http://www.archive.org/details/boyscoutthe davirich the boy scout by richard harding davis [illustration: jimmie dropped the valise, forced his cramped fingers into straight lines, and saluted. [page ]] new york charles scribner's sons copyright, , by charles scribner's sons published may, [illustration] the boy scout a rule of the boy scouts is every day to do some one a good turn. not because the copy-books tell you it deserves another, but in spite of that pleasing possibility. if you are a true scout, until you have performed your act of kindness your day is dark. you are as unhappy as is the grown-up who has begun his day without shaving or reading the new york _sun_. but as soon as you have proved yourself you may, with a clear conscience, look the world in the face and untie the knot in your kerchief. jimmie reeder untied the accusing knot in his scarf at just ten minutes past eight on a hot august morning after he had given one dime to his sister sadie. with that she could either witness the first-run films at the palace, or by dividing her fortune patronize two of the nickel shows on lenox avenue. the choice jimmie left to her. he was setting out for the annual encampment of the boy scouts at hunter's island, and in the excitement of that adventure even the movies ceased to thrill. but sadie also could be unselfish. with a heroism of a camp-fire maiden she made a gesture which might have been interpreted to mean she was returning the money. "i can't, jimmie!" she gasped. "i can't take it off you. you saved it, and you ought to get the fun of it." "i haven't saved it yet," said jimmie. "i'm going to cut it out of the railroad fare. i'm going to get off at city island instead of at pelham manor and walk the difference. that's ten cents cheaper." sadie exclaimed with admiration: "an' you carryin' that heavy grip!" "aw, that's nothin'," said the man of the family. "good-by, mother. so long, sadie." to ward off further expressions of gratitude he hurriedly advised sadie to take in "the curse of cain" rather than "the mohawks' last stand," and fled down the front steps. he wore his khaki uniform. on his shoulders was his knapsack, from his hands swung his suitcase and between his heavy stockings and his "shorts" his kneecaps, unkissed by the sun, as yet unscathed by blackberry vines, showed as white and fragile as the wrists of a girl. as he moved toward the "l" station at the corner, sadie and his mother waved to him; in the street, boys too small to be scouts hailed him enviously; even the policeman glancing over the newspapers on the news-stand nodded approval. "you a scout, jimmie?" he asked. "no," retorted jimmie, for was not he also in uniform? "i'm santa claus out filling christmas stockings." the patrolman also possessed a ready wit. "then get yourself a pair," he advised. "if a dog was to see your legs----" jimmie escaped the insult by fleeing up the steps of the elevated. * * * * * an hour later, with his valise in one hand and staff in the other, he was tramping up the boston post road and breathing heavily. the day was cruelly hot. before his eyes, over an interminable stretch of asphalt, the heat waves danced and flickered. already the knapsack on his shoulders pressed upon him like an old man of the sea; the linen in the valise had turned to pig iron, his pipe-stem legs were wabbling, his eyes smarted with salt sweat, and the fingers supporting the valise belonged to some other boy, and were giving that boy much pain. but as the motor-cars flashed past with raucous warnings, or, that those who rode might better see the boy with bare knees, passed at "half speed," jimmie stiffened his shoulders and stepped jauntily forward. even when the joy-riders mocked with "oh, you scout!" he smiled at them. he was willing to admit to those who rode that the laugh was on the one who walked. and he regretted--oh, so bitterly--having left the train. he was indignant that for his "one good turn a day" he had not selected one less strenuous. that, for instance, he had not assisted a frightened old lady through the traffic. to refuse the dime she might have offered, as all true scouts refuse all tips, would have been easier than to earn it by walking five miles, with the sun at ninety-nine degrees, and carrying excess baggage. twenty times james shifted the valise to the other hand, twenty times he let it drop and sat upon it. and then, as again he took up his burden, the good samaritan drew near. he drew near in a low gray racing-car at the rate of forty miles an hour, and within a hundred feet of jimmie suddenly stopped and backed toward him. the good samaritan was a young man with white hair. he wore a suit of blue, a golf cap; the hands that held the wheel were disguised in large yellow gloves. he brought the car to a halt and surveyed the dripping figure in the road with tired and uncurious eyes. "you a boy scout?" he asked. with alacrity for the twenty-first time jimmie dropped the valise, forced his cramped fingers into straight lines, and saluted. the young man in the car nodded toward the seat beside him. "get in," he commanded. when james sat panting happily at his elbow the old young man, to jimmie's disappointment, did not continue to shatter the speed limit. instead, he seemed inclined for conversation, and the car, growling indignantly, crawled. "i never saw a boy scout before," announced the old young man. "tell me about it. first, tell me what you do when you're not scouting." jimmie explained volubly. when not in uniform he was an office-boy and from pedlers and beggars guarded the gates of carroll and hastings, stockbrokers. he spoke the names of his employers with awe. it was a firm distinguished, conservative, and long-established. the white-haired young man seemed to nod in assent. "do you know them?" demanded jimmie suspiciously. "are you a customer of ours?" "i know them," said the young man. "they are customers of mine." jimmie wondered in what way carroll and hastings were customers of the white-haired young man. judging him by his outer garments, jimmie guessed he was a fifth avenue tailor; he might be even a haberdasher. jimmie continued. he lived, he explained, with his mother at one hundred and forty-sixth street; sadie, his sister, attended the public school; he helped support them both, and he now was about to enjoy a well-earned vacation camping out on hunter's island, where he would cook his own meals and, if the mosquitoes permitted, sleep in a tent. "and you like that?" demanded the young man. "you call that fun?" "sure!" protested jimmie. "don't _you_ go camping out?" "i go camping out," said the good samaritan, "whenever i leave new york." jimmie had not for three years lived in wall street not to understand that the young man spoke in metaphor. "you don't look," objected the young man critically, "as though you were built for the strenuous life." jimmie glanced guiltily at his white knees. "you ought ter see me two weeks from now," he protested. "i get all sunburnt and hard--hard as anything!" the young man was incredulous. "you were near getting sunstroke when i picked you up," he laughed. "if you're going to hunter's island why didn't you take the third avenue to pelham manor?" "that's right!" assented jimmie eagerly. "but i wanted to save the ten cents so's to send sadie to the movies. so i walked." the young man looked his embarrassment. "i beg your pardon," he murmured. but jimmie did not hear him. from the back of the car he was dragging excitedly at the hated suitcase. "stop!" he commanded. "i got ter get out. i got ter _walk_." the young man showed his surprise. "walk!" he exclaimed. "what is it--a bet?" jimmie dropped the valise and followed it into the roadway. it took some time to explain to the young man. first, he had to be told about the scout law and the one good turn a day, and that it must involve some personal sacrifice. and, as jimmie pointed out, changing from a slow suburban train to a racing-car could not be listed as a sacrifice. he had not earned the money, jimmie argued; he had only avoided paying it to the railroad. if he did not walk he would be obtaining the gratitude of sadie by a falsehood. therefore, he must walk. "not at all," protested the young man. "you've got it wrong. what good will it do your sister to have you sunstruck? i think you _are_ sunstruck. you're crazy with the heat. you get in here, and we'll talk it over as we go along." hastily jimmie backed away. "i'd rather walk," he said. the young man shifted his legs irritably. "then how'll this suit you?" he called. "we'll declare that first 'one good turn' a failure and start afresh. do _me_ a good turn." jimmie halted in his tracks and looked back suspiciously. "i'm going to hunter's island inn," called the young man, "and i've lost my way. you get in here and guide me. that'll be doing me a good turn." on either side of the road, blotting out the landscape, giant hands picked out in electric-light bulbs pointed the way to hunter's island inn. jimmie grinned and nodded toward them. "much obliged," he called, "i got ter walk." turning his back upon temptation, he wabbled forward into the flickering heat waves. * * * * * the young man did not attempt to pursue. at the side of the road, under the shade of a giant elm, he had brought the car to a halt and with his arms crossed upon the wheel sat motionless, following with frowning eyes the retreating figure of jimmie. but the narrow-chested and knock-kneed boy staggering over the sun-baked asphalt no longer concerned him. it was not jimmie, but the code preached by jimmie, and not only preached but before his eyes put into practice, that interested him. the young man with white hair had been running away from temptation. at forty miles an hour he had been running away from the temptation to do a fellow mortal "a good turn." that morning, to the appeal of a drowning cæsar to "help me, cassius, or i sink," he had answered, "sink!" that answer he had no wish to reconsider. that he might not reconsider he had sought to escape. it was his experience that a sixty-horsepower racing-machine is a jealous mistress. for retrospective, sentimental, or philanthropic thoughts she grants no leave of absence. but he had not escaped. jimmie had halted him, tripped him by the heels and set him again to thinking. within the half-hour that followed those who rolled past saw at the side of the road a car with her engine running, and leaning upon the wheel, as unconscious of his surroundings as though he sat at his own fireplace, a young man who frowned and stared at nothing. the half-hour passed and the young man swung his car back toward the city. but at the first roadhouse that showed a blue-and-white telephone sign he left it, and into the iron box at the end of the bar dropped a nickel. he wished to communicate with mr. carroll, of carroll and hastings; and when he learned mr. carroll had just issued orders that he must not be disturbed, the young man gave his name. the effect upon the barkeeper was instantaneous. with the aggrieved air of one who feels he is the victim of a jest he laughed scornfully. "what are you putting over?" he demanded. the young man smiled reassuringly. he had begun to speak and, though apparently engaged with the beer-glass he was polishing, the barkeeper listened. down in wall street the senior member of carroll and hastings also listened. he was alone in the most private of all his private offices, and when interrupted had been engaged in what, of all undertakings, is the most momentous. on the desk before him lay letters to his lawyer, to the coroner, to his wife; and hidden by a mass of papers, but within reach of his hand, an automatic pistol. the promise it offered of swift release had made the writing of the letters simple, had given him a feeling of complete detachment, had released him, at least in thought, from all responsibilities. and when at his elbow the telephone coughed discreetly, it was as though some one had called him from a world from which already he had made his exit. mechanically, through mere habit, he lifted the receiver. the voice over the telephone came in brisk staccato sentences. "that letter i sent this morning? forget it. tear it up. i've been thinking and i'm going to take a chance. i've decided to back you boys, and i know you'll make good. i'm speaking from a roadhouse in the bronx; going straight from here to the bank. so you can begin to draw against us within an hour. and--hello!--will three millions see you through?" from wall street there came no answer, but from the hands of the barkeeper a glass crashed to the floor. the young man regarded the barkeeper with puzzled eyes. "he doesn't answer," he exclaimed. "he must have hung up." "he must have fainted!" said the barkeeper. the white-haired one pushed a bill across the counter. "to pay for breakage," he said, and disappeared down pelham parkway. throughout the day, with the bill, for evidence, pasted against the mirror, the barkeeper told and retold the wondrous tale. "he stood just where you're standing now," he related, "blowing in million-dollar bills like you'd blow suds off a beer. if i'd knowed it was _him_, i'd have hit him once, and hid him in the cellar for the reward. who'd i think he was? i thought he was a wire-tapper, working a con game!" mr. carroll had not "hung up," but when in the bronx the beer-glass crashed, in wall street the receiver had slipped from the hand of the man who held it, and the man himself had fallen forward. his desk hit him in the face and woke him--woke him to the wonderful fact that he still lived; that at forty he had been born again; that before him stretched many more years in which, as the young man with the white hair had pointed out, he still could make good. the afternoon was far advanced when the staff of carroll and hastings were allowed to depart, and, even late as was the hour, two of them were asked to remain. into the most private of the private offices carroll invited gaskell, the head clerk; in the main office hastings had asked young thorne, the bond clerk, to be seated. until the senior partner has finished with gaskell young thorne must remain seated. "gaskell," said mr. carroll, "if we had listened to you, if we'd run this place as it was when father was alive, this never would have happened. it _hasn't_ happened, but we've had our lesson. and after this we're going slow and going straight. and we don't need you to tell us how to do that. we want you to go away--on a month's vacation. when i thought we were going under i planned to send the children on a sea-voyage with the governess--so they wouldn't see the newspapers. but now that i can look them in the eye again, i need them, i can't let them go. so, if you'd like to take your wife on an ocean trip to nova scotia and quebec, here are the cabins i reserved for the kids. they call it the royal suite--whatever that is--and the trip lasts a month. the boat sails to-morrow morning. don't sleep too late or you may miss her." * * * * * the head clerk was secreting the tickets in the inside pocket of his waistcoat. his fingers trembled, and when he laughed his voice trembled. "miss the boat!" the head clerk exclaimed. "if she gets away from millie and me she's got to start now. we'll go on board to-night!" a half-hour later millie was on her knees packing a trunk, and her husband was telephoning to the drug-store for a sponge bag and a cure for seasickness. owing to the joy in her heart and to the fact that she was on her knees, millie was alternately weeping into the trunk-tray and offering up incoherent prayers of thanksgiving. suddenly she sank back upon the floor. "john!" she cried, "doesn't it seem sinful to sail away in a 'royal suite' and leave this beautiful flat empty?" over the telephone john was having trouble with the drug clerk. "no!" he explained, "i'm not seasick _now_. the medicine i want is to be taken later. i _know_ i'm speaking from the pavonia; but the pavonia isn't a ship; it's an apartment-house." he turned to millie. "we can't be in two places at the same time," he suggested. "but, think," insisted millie, "of all the poor people stifling to-night in this heat, trying to sleep on the roofs and fire-escapes; and our flat so cool and big and pretty--and no one in it." john nodded his head proudly. "i know it's big," he said, "but it isn't big enough to hold all the people who are sleeping to-night on the roofs and in the parks." "i was thinking of your brother--and grace," said millie. "they've been married only two weeks now, and they're in a stuffy hall bedroom and eating with all the other boarders. think what our flat would mean to them; to be by themselves, with eight rooms and their own kitchen and bath, and our new refrigerator and the gramophone! it would be heaven! it would be a real honeymoon!" abandoning the drug clerk, john lifted millie in his arms and kissed her, for next to his wife nearest his heart was the younger brother. * * * * * the younger brother and grace were sitting on the stoop of the boardinghouse. on the upper steps, in their shirt-sleeves, were the other boarders; so the bride and bridegroom spoke in whispers. the air of the cross street was stale and stagnant; from it rose exhalations of rotting fruit, the gases of an open subway, the smoke of passing taxicabs. but between the street and the hall bedroom, with its odors of a gas-stove and a kitchen, the choice was difficult. "we've got to cool off somehow," the young husband was saying, "or you won't sleep. shall we treat ourselves to ice-cream sodas or a trip on the weehawken ferry-boat?" "the ferry-boat!" begged the girl, "where we can get away from all these people." a taxicab with a trunk in front whirled into the street, kicked itself to a stop, and the head clerk and millie spilled out upon the pavement. they talked so fast, and the younger brother and grace talked so fast, that the boarders, although they listened intently, could make nothing of it. they distinguished only the concluding sentences: "why don't you drive down to the wharf with us," they heard the elder brother ask, "and see our royal suite?" but the younger brother laughed him to scorn. "what's your royal suite," he mocked, "to our royal palace?" an hour later, had the boarders listened outside the flat of the head clerk, they would have heard issuing from his bathroom the cooling murmur of running water and from his gramophone the jubilant notes of "alexander's ragtime band." when in his private office carroll was making a present of the royal suite to the head clerk, in the main office hastings, the junior partner, was addressing "champ" thorne, the bond clerk. he addressed him familiarly and affectionately as "champ." this was due partly to the fact that twenty-six years before thorne had been christened champneys and to the coincidence that he had captained the football eleven of one of the big three to the championship. "champ," said mr. hastings, "last month, when you asked me to raise your salary, the reason i didn't do it was not because you didn't deserve it, but because i believed if we gave you a raise you'd immediately get married." the shoulders of the ex-football captain rose aggressively; he snorted with indignation. "and why should i _not_ get married?" he demanded. "you're a fine one to talk! you're the most offensively happy married man i ever met." "perhaps i know i am happy better than you do," reproved the junior partner; "but i know also that it takes money to support a wife." "you raise me to a hundred a week," urged champ, "and i'll make it support a wife whether it supports me or not." "a month ago," continued hastings, "we could have _promised_ you a hundred, but we didn't know how long we could pay it. we didn't want you to rush off and marry some fine girl----" "some fine girl!" muttered mr. thorne. "the finest girl!" "the finer the girl," hastings pointed out, "the harder it would have been for you if we had failed and you had lost your job." the eyes of the young man opened with sympathy and concern. "is it as bad as that?" he murmured. hastings sighed happily. "it _was_," he said, "but this morning the young man of wall street did us a good turn--saved us--saved our creditors, saved our homes, saved our honor. we're going to start fresh and pay our debts, and we agreed the first debt we paid would be the small one we owe you. you've brought us more than we've given, and if you'll stay with us we're going to 'see' your fifty and raise it a hundred. what do you say?" young mr. thorne leaped to his feet. what he said was: "where'n hell's my hat?" but by the time he had found the hat and the door he mended his manners. "i say, 'thank you a thousand times,'" he shouted over his shoulder. "excuse me, but i've got to go. i've got to break the news to----" he did not explain to whom he was going to break the news; but hastings must have guessed, for again he sighed happily and then, a little hysterically, laughed aloud. several months had passed since he had laughed aloud. in his anxiety to break the news champ thorne almost broke his neck. in his excitement he could not remember whether the red flash meant the elevator was going down or coming up, and sooner than wait to find out he started to race down eighteen flights of stairs when fortunately the elevator-door swung open. "you get five dollars," he announced to the elevator man, "if you drop to the street without a stop. beat the speed limit! act like the building is on fire and you're trying to save me before the roof falls." senator barnes and his entire family, which was his daughter barbara, were at the ritz-carlton. they were in town in august because there was a meeting of the directors of the brazil and cuyaba rubber company, of which company senator barnes was president. it was a secret meeting. those directors who were keeping cool at the edge of the ocean had been summoned by telegraph; those who were steaming across the ocean, by wireless. up from the equator had drifted the threat of a scandal, sickening, grim, terrible. as yet it burned beneath the surface, giving out only an odor, but an odor as rank as burning rubber itself. at any moment it might break into flame. for the directors, was it the better wisdom to let the scandal smoulder, and take a chance, or to be the first to give the alarm, the first to lead the way to the horror and stamp it out? it was to decide this that, in the heat of august, the directors and the president had foregathered. champ thorne knew nothing of this; he knew only that by a miracle barbara barnes was in town; that at last he was in a position to ask her to marry him; that she would certainly say she would. that was all he cared to know. a year before he had issued his declaration of independence. before he could marry, he told her, he must be able to support a wife on what he earned, without her having to accept money from her father, and until he received "a minimum wage" of five thousand dollars they must wait. "what is the matter with my father's money?" barbara had demanded. thorne had evaded the direct question. "there is too much of it," he said. "do you object to the way he makes it?" insisted barbara. "because rubber is most useful. you put it in golf balls and auto tires and galoches. there is nothing so perfectly respectable as galoches. and what is there 'tainted' about a raincoat." thorne shook his head unhappily. "it's not the finished product to which i refer," he stammered; "it's the way they get the raw material." "they get it out of trees," said barbara. then she exclaimed with enlightenment--"oh!" she cried, "you are thinking of the congo. there it is terrible! _that_ is slavery. but there are no slaves on the amazon. the natives are free and the work is easy. they just tap the trees the way the farmers gather sugar in vermont. father has told me about it often." thorne had made no comment. he could abuse a friend, if the friend were among those present, but denouncing any one he disliked as heartily as he disliked senator barnes was a public service he preferred to leave to others. and he knew besides that, if the father she loved and the man she loved distrusted each other, barbara would not rest until she learned the reason why. one day, in a newspaper, barbara read of the puju mayo atrocities, of the indian slaves in the jungles and back waters of the amazon, who are offered up as sacrifices to "red rubber." she carried the paper to her father. what it said, her father told her, was untrue, and if it were true it was the first he had heard of it. senator barnes loved the good things of life, but the thing he loved most was his daughter; the thing he valued the highest was her good opinion. so when for the first time she looked at him in doubt, he assured her he at once would order an investigation. "but, of course," he added, "it will be many months before our agents can report. on the amazon news travels very slowly." in the eyes of his daughter the doubt still lingered. "i am afraid," she said, "that that is true." that was six months before the directors of the brazil and cuyaba rubber company were summoned to meet their president at his rooms in the ritz-carlton. they were due to arrive in half an hour, and while senator barnes awaited their coming barbara came to him. in her eyes was a light that helped to tell the great news. it gave him a sharp, jealous pang. he wanted at once to play a part in her happiness, to make her grateful to him, not alone to this stranger who was taking her away. so fearful was he that she would shut him out of her life that had she asked for half his kingdom he would have parted with it. "and besides giving my consent," said the rubber king, "for which no one seems to have asked, what can i give my little girl to make her remember her old father? some diamonds to put on her head, or pearls to hang around her neck, or does she want a vacant lot on fifth avenue?" the lovely hands of barbara rested upon his shoulders; her lovely face was raised to his; her lovely eyes were appealing, and a little frightened. "what would one of those things cost?" asked barbara. the question was eminently practical. it came within the scope of the senator's understanding. after all, he was not to be cast into outer darkness. his smile was complacent. he answered airily: "anything you like," he said; "a million dollars?" the fingers closed upon his shoulders. the eyes, still frightened, still searched his in appeal. "then for my wedding-present," said the girl, "i want you to take that million dollars and send an expedition to the amazon. and i will choose the men. men unafraid; men not afraid of fever or sudden death; not afraid to tell the truth--even to _you_. and all the world will know. and they--i mean _you_--will set those people free!" senator barnes received the directors with an embarrassment which he concealed under a manner of just indignation. "my mind is made up," he told them. "existing conditions cannot continue. and to that end, at my own expense, i am sending an expedition across south america. it will investigate, punish, and establish reforms. i suggest, on account of this damned heat, we do now adjourn." that night, over on long island, carroll told his wife all, or nearly all. he did not tell her about the automatic pistol. and together on tiptoe they crept to the nursery and looked down at their sleeping children. when she rose from her knees the mother said, "but how can i thank him?" by "him" she meant the young man of wall street. "you never can thank him," said carroll; "that's the worst of it." but after a long silence the mother said: "i will send him a photograph of the children. do you think he will understand?" down at seabright, hastings and his wife walked in the sunken garden. the moon was so bright that the roses still held their color. "i would like to thank him," said the young wife. she meant the young man of wall street. "but for him we would have lost _this_." her eyes caressed the garden, the fruit-trees, the house with wide, hospitable verandas. "to-morrow i will send him some of these roses," said the young wife. "will he understand that they mean our home?" at a scandalously late hour, in a scandalous spirit of independence, champ thorne and barbara were driving around central park in a taxicab. "how strangely the lord moves, his wonders to perform," misquoted barbara. "had not the young man of wall street saved mr. hastings, mr. hastings could not have raised your salary; you would not have asked me to marry you, and had you not asked me to marry you, father would not have given me a wedding-present, and----" "and," said champ, taking up the tale, "thousands of slaves would still be buried in the jungles, hidden away from their wives and children, and the light of the sun and their fellow men. they still would be dying of fever, starvation, tortures." he took her hand in both of his and held her finger-tips against his lips. "and they will never know," he whispered, "when their freedom comes, that they owe it all to _you_." * * * * * on hunter's island jimmie reeder and his bunkie, sam sturges, each on his canvas cot, tossed and twisted. the heat, the moonlight, and the mosquitoes would not let them even think of sleep. "that was bully," said jimmie, "what you did to-day about saving that dog. if it hadn't been for you he'd ha' drownded." "he would _not_!" said sammy with punctilious regard for the truth; "it wasn't deep enough." "well, the scout-master ought to know," argued jimmie; "he said it was the best 'one good turn' of the day!" modestly sam shifted the limelight so that it fell upon his bunkie. "i'll bet," he declared loyally, "_your_ 'one good turn' was a better one!" jimmie yawned, and then laughed scornfully. "me," he scoffed, "i didn't do nothing. i sent my sister to the movies." * * * * * +-------------------------------------------------------------+ |transcriber's note: | | | |unusual spellings appearing in the original text have been | |retained. | +-------------------------------------------------------------+ boy scouts on a long hike or to the rescue in the black water swamps by archibald lee fletcher chicago m. a. donohue & company ------------------------------------------------------------------------ copyright m. a. donohue & co. chicago ------------------------------------------------------------------------ contents chapter page i--the boys of the beaver patrol ii--helping noodles iii--the gentle cow iv--in alabama camp v--a helping hand vi--the home-coming of jo davies vii--innocent or guilty? viii--"well, of all things!" ix--the runaway balloon x--duty above all things xi--the trail in the swamp xii--where no foot has ever trod xiii--the oasis in the swamp xiv--just in the nick of time xv--on the home-stretch xvi--"well done, beaver patrol!" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ boy scouts on a long hike or, to the rescue in the black water swamps chapter i the boys of the beaver patrol "they all think, fellows, that the beaver patrol can't do it!" "we'll show 'em how we've climbed up out of the tenderfoot class; hey, boys?" "just watch our smoke, that's all. why, it's only a measly little twenty-five miles per day, and what d'ye think?" "sure seth, and what's that to a husky lot of boy scouts, who've been through the mill, and wear merit badges all around? huh! consider it as good as done right now!" half a dozen boys who wore khaki uniforms, were chattering like so many magpies as they stood in a little group on an elevation overlooking the bustling indiana town of beverly. apparently they must have been practicing some of the many clever things boy scouts delight to learn, for several of the number carried signal flags; two had pieces of a broken looking-glass in their possession; while the tall lad, seth carpenter, had a rather sadly stained blanket coiled soldier fashion about his person, that gave off a scent of smoke, proving that he must have used it in communicating with distant comrades, by means of the smoke code of signals. besides seth there were in the group jotham hale, eben newcomb, andy mullane, fritz hendricks, and a merry, red-faced boy who, because of his german extraction, went by the name of "noodles krafft." the reader who has not made the acquaintance of these wide-awake scouts in previous volumes of this series will naturally want to know something about them, and hence it might be wise to introduce the members of the beaver patrol right here. eben was the official bugler of beverly troop. he had been made to take this office much against his will, and for a long time had the greatest difficulty in getting the "hang" of his instrument, so that his comrades guyed him most unmercifully over the strange medleys he used to bring forth when meaning to sound the various "calls." but of late eben seemed to have mastered his silver-plated bugle, and was really doing very well, with an occasional lapse excepted. andy was a kentucky boy, but outside of a little extra touch of pride, and a very keen sense of his own honor, you would never know it. seth was the champion signal sender, and delighted to study up everything he could discover concerning this fascinating subject. fritz, on his part, chose to make an especial study of woodcraft, and was forever hunting for "signs," and talking of the amazing things which the old-time indians used to accomplish along this line. as for good-natured noodles, if he had any specialty at all, it lay in the art of cooking. when the boys were in camp they looked to him to supply all sorts of meals that fairly made their mouths water with eagerness to begin operations long before the bugle of eben sounded the "assembly." last of all the group, was jotham hale, a rather quiet boy, with an engaging face, and clear eyes. jotham's mother was a quaker, or at least she came from the peace-loving friends stock; and the lad had been early taught that he must never engage in fights except as a very last resort, and then to save some smaller fellow from being bullied. on one occasion, which no one in beverly would ever forget, jotham had proven that deep down in his heart he possessed true courage, and grit. he had faced a big mad dog, with only a baseball bat in his hands, and wound up the beast's career right on the main street of the town, while everybody was fleeing in abject terror from contact with the animal. because in so doing jotham had really saved an old and nearly blind veteran soldier from being bitten by the terrible brute, he had been adjudged worthy to wear the beautiful silver merit badge which is sent occasionally from boy scout headquarters to those members of the organization who have saved life at great peril to themselves. but jotham was not the only one who proudly sported a badge. in fact, every one of the eight members of the beaver patrol wore a bronze medal on the left side of his khaki jacket. this had come to them because of certain services which the patrol had rendered at the time a child had been carried away by a crazy woman, and was found, later on, through the medium of their knowledge of woodcraft. of course there were two more boys connected with the patrol, who did not happen to be present at the time we find them resting on their way home after a rather strenuous afternoon in the open. these were paul prentice, the patrol leader, and who served as acting scout master when mr. alexander was unable to accompany them; and "babe" adams, the newest recruit, a tenderfoot who was bent on learning everything connected with the game. they had gone home a little earlier than the rest, for reasons that had no connection with the afternoon's sport, each of them having a pressing engagement that could not be broken. "babe" had been nick-named in the spirit of contrariness that often marks the ways of boys; for he was an unusually tall, thin fellow; and so far as any one knew, had never shirked trouble, so that he could not be called timid in the least. "no use hurrying, fellows," declared seth, as he flung himself down on a log that happened to be lying near the edge of a little precipice, marking the abrupt end of the shelf which they had been following, so that to descend further the scouts must pass around, and pick their way down the hillside. "that's so," added jotham, following suit, and taking great care not to knock his precious bugle in the least when making the shift; "for one, i'm dead tired after such a hard afternoon. but all the same, i want you to know that i'm in apple-pie condition for that long hike, or will be, after a night's rest." "what d'ye suppose made mr. sargeant offer a prize if the beaver patrol could walk to warwick by one road, and back along another, a distance of just an even hundred miles, between sunrise of four days?" and fritz looked around at his five comrades as though inviting suggestions. "because he's fond of boys, i reckon," remarked andy. "they tell me he lost two splendid little fellows, one by drowning, and the other through being lost in the forest; and when he learned what sort of things the scouts practice, he said he was in favor of encouraging them to the limit." "well, we want to get busy, and show mr. sargeant that we're going to give him a run for his money," said seth. "we've all seen the cup in the window of the jewelers in town, and it sure is a beauty, and no mistake," added jotham. "don't anybody allow himself to think we can't cover that hundred miles inside the time limit. you know how paul keeps telling us that confidence is more'n half the battle," fritz went on to say. "you pet we want dot gup, undt we're yust bound to get der same," observed noodles, who could talk quite as well as any of his mates, but who liked to pretend every now and then, that he could only express himself in "broken english," partly because it pleased him and at the same time amused his mates. "we're right glad to hear you say that, noodles," declared seth, with a wink in the direction of the others; "because some of us have been afraid the hike might be too much for you, and eben." "now, there you go again, seth," complained the bugler, "always imagining that because i seldom blow my own horn----" but he got no further than this, for there broke out a shout, from the rest of the boys. "that's where you struck it right, eben!" cried seth, "because in the old days you seldom did blow your own horn; but i notice that you're improving right along now, and we have hopes of making a champion bugler out of you yet." "of course that was just a slip; but let it pass," remarked eben, grinning in spite of the fact that the joke was on him. "what i meant to say was that because i don't go around boasting about the great things i'm going to do, please look back on my record, and see if i haven't got there every time." "sure you have," admitted seth, "and we give you credit for bull-dog stubbornness, to beat the band. other fellows would have thrown the bugle into the bushes, and called quits; but you kept right along splitting our ears with all them awful sounds you called music. and say, if you can show the same kind of grit on this long hike we're going to try, there ain't any doubt but what we'll win out." "thank you, seth; you're a queer fish sometimes, but your heart's all right, underneath the trash," observed eben, sweetly; and when he talked like that he always put a stop to the other's teasing. "how about you, noodles; d'ye think you're good for such a tough walk?" asked fritz, turning suddenly on the red-faced, stout boy, who was moving uneasily about, as though restless. "meppy you don't know dot me, i haf peen practice on der quiet dis long time, so as to surbrize you all," came the proud reply. "feel dot muscle, seth, undt tell me if you think idt could pe peat. gymnastics i haf take, py shiminy, till all der while i dream of chinning mineself, hanging py one toe, undt all der rest. meppy you vill surbrised pe yet. holdt on, don't say nuttings, put wait!" he put on such a mysterious air that some of the boys laughed; but noodles only smiled broadly, nodded his head, and made a gesture with his hand that gave them to understand he was ready and willing to let time vindicate his reputation. "hadn't we better be moving on?" remarked andy. "yes, the sun's getting pretty low in the west, and that means it must be near supper time," said fritz, who was the possessor of a pretty brisk appetite all the time. "oh! what's the use of hurrying?" seth went on to say, shifting his position on the log, and acting as though quite content to remain an unlimited length of time. "it won't take us ten minutes to get there, once we start; fifteen at the most. and i like to walk in just when the stuff is being put on the table. it saves a heap of waiting, you know." "that's what it does," eben echoed. "because, if there's anything i hate to do, it's hanging around while they're finishing getting grub ready." "here, quit walking all over me, noodles!" called out fritz, who had coiled his rather long legs under him as well as he could, while squatting there on the ground. "i haf nodt der time to do all dot," remarked the german-american boy, calmly, "idt would pe too pig a chob. oh! excuse me off you blease, fritz; dot was an accident, i gif you my word." "well, don't stumble across me again, that's all," grumbled the other, watching noodles suspiciously, and ready to catch him at his tricks by suddenly thrusting out a foot, and tripping him up--for noodles was so fat and clumsy that when he took a "header" he always afforded more or less amusement for the crowd. it was not often that noodles displayed a desire to play tricks or joke, which fact made his present activity all the more remarkable; in fact he was developing a number of new traits that kept his chums guessing; and was far from being the dull-witted lad they had formerly looked upon as the butt of all manner of practical pranks. while the scouts continued to chat, and exchange laughing remarks upon a variety of subjects, noodles kept moving restlessly about. fritz felt pretty sure that the other was only waiting for a good chance to pretend to stumble over his legs again, and while he pretended to be entering heartily into the rattling fire of conversation, he was secretly keeping an eye on the stout scout. just as he anticipated, noodles, as though discovering his chance, lurched heavily toward him. fritz, boylike, instantly threw out a foot, intending to simply trip him up, and give the other a taste of his own medicine. well, noodles tripped handsomely, and went sprawling headlong in a ludicrous manner; but being so round and clumsy he rather overdid the matter; for instead of simply rolling there on the ground, he kept on scrambling, hands and legs shooting out every-which-way; and to the astonishment and dismay of his comrades, noodles vanished over the edge of the little precipice, close to which the scouts had made their temporary halt while on the way home! chapter ii helping noodles "oh! he fell over!" shouted eben, appalled by what had happened. "poor old noodles! what if he's gone and broke his neck?" gasped jotham, turning a reproachful look upon fritz. "i didn't mean to go as far as that, fellows, give you my word for it!" fritz in turn was muttering, for he had been dreadfully alarmed when he saw poor noodles vanish from view in such a hasty fashion. "listen!" cried andy. "hellup!" came a faint voice just then. "it's noodles!" exclaimed fritz, scrambling over in the direction of the spot where they had seen the last of their unfortunate chum. "oh! perhaps he's gone and fractured his leg, and our family doctor, meaning paul, ain't along!" groaned eben. all of them hastened to follow after the eager fritz, and on hands and knees made for the edge of the shelf of rock, from which in times past they had sent many a flag signal to some scout mounted on the roof of his house in town. fritz had more of an interest in discovering what had happened to the vanished scout than any of his comrades. possibly his uneasy conscience reproached him for having thrust out his foot in the way he did, and sending poor noodles headlong to his fate. at any rate he reached the brink of the descent before any of the rest. they unconsciously kept their eyes on fritz. he would serve as a barometer, and from his actions they could tell pretty well the conditions existing down below. if fritz exhibited any symptoms of horror, then it would afford them a chance to steel their nerves against the sight, before they reached his side. fritz was observed to crane his neck, and peer over the edge of the shelf. further he leaned, as though hardly able to believe his eyes. then, when some of the rest were holding their breath in expectation of seeing him turn a white face toward them, fritz gave vent to a hoarse laugh. it was as though the relief he felt just had to find a vent somehow. astounded by this unexpected outcome of the near-tragedy the others hastened to crawl forward still further, until they too were able to thrust out their heads, and see for themselves what it was fritz seemed to be amused at. then they, too, chuckled and shook with amusement; nor could they be blamed for giving way to this feeling, since the spectacle that met their gaze was comical enough to excite laughter on the part of any one. noodles was there all right; indeed, he was pretty much in evidence, as they could all see. in falling it happened that he had become caught by the seat of his stout khaki trousers; a friendly stump of a broken branch connected with a stunted tree that grew out of the face of the little precipice had taken a firm grip upon the loose cloth; and since the boy in struggling had turned around several times, there was no such thing as his becoming detached, unless the branch broke. "hellup! why don't you gif me a handt?" he was shouting as he clawed at the unyielding face of the rock, while vainly endeavoring to keep his head higher than his flying heels. while it was very funny to the boys who peered over the edge of the shelf, as noodles would have an ugly tumble should things give way, andy and seth quickly realized that they had better get busy without any more delay, and do the gallant rescue act. had paul been there he would have gone about it in a business-like way, for he was quick to grapple with a problem, and solve it in short order. as it was a case of too many cooks spoiling the broth, one boy suggested a certain plan, only to have a second advanced as a better method of getting noodles out of his unpleasant predicament. meantime the poor fellow was kicking, and turning, and pleading with them not to go back on an old chum, and leave him to such a terrible fate. "der rope--get quick der rope, undt pull me oop!" he wailed. "that's so, boys, noodles has struck the right nail on the head!" cried seth. "here, who's carrying that rope right now?" "noodles has got it himself, that's what!" exclaimed eben. "did you ever hear of such rotten luck, now?" demanded seth. "hold on!" interrupted andy, "seems to me i remember seeing him lay something down over here. let me look and find out. whoop! here she is, boys! that's what i call great luck. seth, suppose you see if you can drop the loop over his head." "pe sure as you don't shoke me, poys!" called out the dangling object below, in a manner to prove that he heard all they said. "get it over his feet, seth; then we can yank him up. he won't mind it for a short time. some of his brains will have a chance to run back into his head that way," suggested eben. "make quick, blease!" wailed the unhappy scout, who was growing dizzy with all this dangling and turning around. "i hears me der cloth gifing away; or else dot dree, it pe going to preak py der roots. hurry oop! get a moof on you, somepody. subbose i want to make some squash pie down on der rocks?" but seth was already hard at work trying to coax that noose at the end of the dangling rope to fall over the uptilted legs of the unfortunate scout. "keep still, you!" he shouted, when for the third time his angling operations were upset by some unexpected movement on the part of the struggling boy. "think i c'n lasso a bucking broncho? hold your feet up, and together, if you want me to get you! there, that's the way. whoop-la!" his last shout announced sudden success. indeed, the loop of the handy rope had dropped over the feet of noodles, and was speedily drawn tight by a quick movement on the part of the operator. the balance of the boys laid hold on the rope and every one felt that the tension was relieved--that is, every one but noodles, and when he found himself being drawn upward, with his head down, he probably thought things had tightened considerably. as the obliging branch saw fit to let go its tenacious grip about that time, of course noodles was soon drawn in triumph over the edge of the shale, protesting more or less because he was scratched in several places by sharp edges of the rock. "hurrah for scout tactics; they count every time!" exclaimed eben. fritz was unusually solicitous, and asked noodles several times whether he had received any serious hurt as a result of his strange experience. the german boy felt himself all over, grunting several times while so doing. but in the end he announced that he believed he was all there, and beyond a few minor bruises none the worse for his adventure. "put you pet me i haf a narrow escape," he added, seriously. "how far must i haf dropped if dot pully oldt khaki cloth gives vay?" "all of twenty feet, noodles," declared andy. "dwenty feets! ach, petter say dree dimes dot," asserted noodles. "i gives you my word, poys, dot it seemed i was on der top of a mountain, mit a fine chance my pones to preak on der rocks pelow. pelieve me, i am glad to pe here." "i hope you don't think i did that on purpose, noodles?" asked fritz, contritely. the other turned a quizzical look upon him. "tid for tad, fritz," he remarked, "iff i had nodt peen drying to choke mit you meepy i might nodt haf met with sooch a shock. petter luck nexdt time, hey?" "i don't know just what you mean, noodles, blest if i do," remarked fritz, with a puzzled look on his face, "but i agree with all you say. this practical joke business sometimes turns out different from what you expect. i'm sure done with it." but then, all boys say that, especially after they have had a little fright; only to go back to their old way of doing things when the shock has worn off. and the chances were that fritz was far from being cured of his habits. "how lucky we had the rope along," ventured jotham, who was coiling up the article in question at the time he spoke. "i always said it would come in handy," remarked eben, quickly and proudly, "and if you stop to think of the many uses we've put that same rope to, from yanking a fellow out of a quicksand, to tying up a bad man who had escaped from the penitentiary, you'll all agree with me that it's been one of the best investments we ever made." "that's right," echoed seth, always willing to give credit where such was due. "ketch me ever going into the woods without my rope," declared eben. "well, do we make that start for home and mother and supper right now; or are we going to stay here till she gets plumb dark?" asked fritz, impatiently, moving his feet out of the way every time anyone approached too closely, as though possessed by a fear lest he be tempted to repeat his recent act. "come on, everybody," said eben, making a start, "i refuse to hang out a minute longer. seems like i c'n just get a whiff of the steak a sizzling on the gridiron at our house; and say, when i think of it, i get wild. i'm as hungry as that bear that came to our camp, and sent us all up in trees like a covey of partridges." "if you're as hungry as that after just an afternoon's signal practice, think what'll happen when we've been hiking all day, and covered our little forty or fifty miles?" suggested andy, chuckling. "oh! come off, andy, you don't really mean that, do you?" called out eben over his shoulder. "i'm good for twenty-five miles, i think; but you give me a cold feeling when you talk about fifty. and poor old noodles here will melt away to just a grease spot, if the weather keeps on as warm as it is now." "don't let him worry you, eben," sang out seth. "i heard paul telling how at the most we might try for thirty the second day, so as to get ahead a bit. but what is going to count in this test is regularity--keeping up an even pace each day of the four. and chances are we'll own that fine trophy by the time we get back to beverly again." "didn't i hear something about our having to register at a lot of places along the way?" asked jotham. "yes, i believe that's a part of the game," replied seth. "it's only right, just to prove that we haven't cut across lots, and shirked any. mr. sargeant and the two members of the committee mean to wait up for us at each station, and kind of keep an eye on us. i guess they want to encourage us some, too, when we come in, dusty and tired and feeling pretty near fagged out. "some of the other fellows, steve slimmons, arty beecher, and two more, who expect to start our second patrol in the fall, wanted to go along with us; but mr. sargeant preferred to limit it to just the beavers. he said we were seasoned scouts by this time, while the other fellows might be called tenderfeet; and it would be a pity to run chances of losing the prize, just because one of them softies fell down." fritz offered this explanation, and somehow at mention of steve slimmons' name a slight smile could be seen flitting across more than one face. for well did the scouts remember when this same boy had been accounted one of the toughest lads in all milltown, as that part of beverly across the railroad tracks was called. at that time he had been called "slick" slimmons, and in many ways he deserved the name, for he was a smooth customer. but circumstances had arisen, as told in a previous volume of this series, whereby steve had gone through a rather serious experience, and had his eyes opened to the fact that in leading such a wild life he was carrying the heavy end of the log. he had broken with the tough crowd of which he had been a member up to then, and now was hand in glove with paul prentice and his scouts, in fact considered himself a member of beverly troop. the active lads found little trouble in negotiating the descent leading down to level ground. even noodles had become many times more agile than before he donned the magical khaki of the scouts; for the various duties that had to be performed from time to time by every member of the patrol had done wonders for the slow moving german-american boy. with their goal now in sight, the six scouts started off at a lively pace. if any of them felt in the least bit tired he was evidently determined not to show it to his comrades, or any one they might happen to meet on the road leading to beverly. pride is a great thing at certain times, and helps ride over many difficulties. so, in due time they separated, each fellow heading toward his own home. and the last words they called back to each other were in connection with the great hike upon which they expected to start on the following morning, which would be tuesday. many anxious looks were cast upward toward the blinking stars that night, and speculations indulged in as to the probable kind of weather that would be doled out to them while on the road. and more than one scout lay awake long after he went to bed, trying to lift the curtain that hid the future, just a little way, so as to get a peep of what was waiting for the beaver patrol, but of course without the least success. chapter iii the gentle cow "paul, how do we hold out for the third day on the hike?" "yes, and paul, please let us know just how much further you expect to coax the leg weary bunch on today? not to say that i'm tired; but then i know noodles, and another scout not far away right now, are grunting like fun every little rise in the road we come to," and seth gave his head a flirt in the quarter where eben was anxiously gripping his bugle, as if in momentary expectation of getting a signal from the patrol leader to blow the call that would signify a halt. "it's only four o'clock, fellows," began the acting scoutmaster. dismal groans sounded; but with a smile paul went on to add: "we've already made our twenty-five miles since sun-up, just this side of warwick; but it's a fine day, and i did hope we might hang on a little while further, so as to cut down our last day's hike a few miles. it's always the hardest part of the whole thing, the finishing spurt. but of course, if any of you feel played out we can call it off right now." eben and noodles braced themselves up at this, and tried to look as though they had no calling acquaintance with such a thing as fatigue. "oh! i'm good for a couple more miles, i guess," declared the former. "make idt tree, undt you will see how i holdt oudt!" proudly boasted the stout boy, who spent half his time mopping his red face; for the day had been a pretty warm one, so noodles, who had to carry a third again as much weight as any of his companions, thought. "bully boy!" exclaimed impulsive seth, "didn't i say they had the sand to do all we tried. you never would have believed noodles here could have covered the ground he has. scouting has been the making of him, as it will of any feller that cares to set his teeth together, and just try real hard." "i suggest then," went on paul, his face beaming with pleasure, "that we take a little rest right here, say of half an hour; and then march along again for three miles, as near as we can guess. and if we do that, fellows, it leaves only twenty more for the last day." "i reckon that silver trophy is as good as won," remarked andy mullane. "barring accidents; and you never can tell when something may happen," added wise seth. "then i hope it will be to you, and not to me," said eben, who was rubbing his shin at a place where he had bruised it earlier in the day. "have we got enough grub along to last out?" queried fritz. all eyes were turned toward noodles, who generally looked after this part of the business when they were abroad, either camping or tramping. "i wouldn't say yes, if fritz he puts der crimp in dot appetites off his," was what the cook announced, gravely. "then we'll see to it that he gets no more than his regular ration after this," paul declared, pretending to look severe. "huh! that makes me feel real bad right away, let me tell you, fellers," fritz remarked, touching his belt line with a rueful face. "however do you think i can fill up all this space here with just one ration? it's different with some of the rest of the bunch; take noodles for example, he hasn't got room for more'n half a ration. i speak for what he can't make way with." "say, there's a chance right now for you to fill up ahead of time!" exclaimed eben, as he pointed through the fence; and looking, the scouts saw a cow standing there, placidly chewing, her cud, and evidently watching them curiously as she attended strictly to business. "sure," fritz went on to say, quickly, getting to his feet, "she's got plenty of rations, quarts and quarts of fine rich milk. i've got half a notion to step in there, and see how it tastes. see here, if i tied a nickel or a dime in a piece of paper, and attached it to her horn, wouldn't that be all right, paul? ain't scouts got a right to live off the country as they hike through, 'specially if they pay for what they take?" "well, if it was a case of necessity, now----" began the scoutmaster. "it is," broke in eben, who for some reason seemed to want to egg fritz on, "our comrade's plumb near starved, you know, and we're talking of cutting his grub allowance down to half. but i don't think he's got the nerve to fill up on nice rich fresh milk, that's what. some people talk pretty loud, but when you pin 'em down, they say they didn't mean it." of course that finished fritz. if he had been joking before, he now took the matter in a serious light. "huh! that remark don't hit me, eben," he said, disdainfully, "if it was a ferocious old bull i might hesitate about trespassing on his field, but a gentle cow, whoever knew one to act ugly? here goes, after i've tied up this nickel in a piece of paper, with a string to it, to fix it on sukey's horn. anybody else feel milk thirsty? don't all speak at once now, because i'm first." apparently no one else was hankering after fresh milk just then; at least none of the scouts gave any indication of meaning to accompany the bold invader. "if you're really intending to go over the fence and try the milk supply," suggested paul. "i'd advise you to leave that red neck scarf that you're so proud of wearing, behind you, fritz." "yes, that's so," broke in seth, "cows, as well as bulls, don't fancy anything red, i've been told. better leave it with me, fritz." "huh, think i ain't on to your little game, seth carpenter," declared the other, making no move to take off the necktie in question, "don't i know that you've always wanted that scarf? ain't you tried to buy it off me more'n a few times? not much will i let you hold it. that tie stays by me. if the poor old cow don't like it, she can do the next best thing. now, watch me get my fill, fellers. milk is the staff of life, more'n bread; and i always did like it fresh. here goes." he clambered up on the top of the fence, while all the other scouts watched to see how the operation turned out. "take care, fritz," warned eben, solemnly, "she's got her eye on you, all right, and she's stopped chewing her cud too. p'raps she may turn out to be a hooker; you never can tell about cows. and chances are, she's got a calf up in the barn. you see, a cow is always ugly when she thinks they're agoin' to steal her calf away, like they did lots of other times." "oh! rats!" sneered the valiant fritz, drawing his staff over with him, so as to get a purchase on the ground within the field, and ease his intended jump. "listen, fritz," added jotham, "see that little enclosure just back of where she stands? looks like it might have been fenced off to protect some fruit trees or something. well, if i was in your boots now, and she made a jump for me, i'd tumble over that same fence in a hurry. a cow's got horns the same as a bull, and you'll be sorry if ever she tosses you." but fritz had evidently made up his mind, and would not allow anything to deter him. the more the other scouts threw out these hints the stronger became his determination to carry his clever scheme to completion. and when he said he was fond of fresh milk fritz only told the truth; though the chances were he would never have accepted such a risk only for the badgering of eben and seth. using his long staff in a dexterous way he dropped lightly to the ground, and immediately started to walk toward the spot where the cow stood. she had raised her head a little, and appeared to be observing his coming with certain suspicious signs. "go slow, fritz; she don't like your looks any too much!" warned paul, who had climbed to the top of the rail fence, the better to see what happened. perhaps fritz himself may have felt a little qualm just about that time, for the actions of the cow were far from reassuring; but he was too proud to show anything that seemed to savor of the "white feather" before his chums, especially after making all the boasts he had. and so he kept grimly on, even if his knees did begin to knock together a little, when he actually saw the cow suddenly lower her head, and throw up the dirt with those ugly looking short horns, to one of which he had so recently declared he meant to secure the coin he would leave, to pay for all the milk he expected to consume. paul had called out once or twice, words of warning. he also suggested that it would be wise for the adventurous one to turn back; because, if appearance went for anything the animal had a bad temper, and would be apt to give him more or less trouble. but that had no effect on fritz, who, having embarked on the venture, did not mean to back down until absolutely forced to do so. and so the other five scouts, ranged along the fence, watched to see what would happen. perhaps their hearts were beating just a little faster than ordinary; but if so, that was not a circumstance to the way fritz felt his throbbing like a trip hammer, even while he kept steadily moving ahead. he started to utter what he meant to be soothing words, as he approached the gentle bovine. he had heard farmers talking to their cows when starting to do the milking act, and thought it the proper caper. but bossy must have finally made up her mind that this trespasser had a suspicious look, and meant to carry off the little calf that could now be heard calling away off beyond a rise where a farm house and stable evidently lay. suddenly she lowered her head, and started toward fritz. frenzied shouts arose from those who were watching the proceedings from a safe distance. "run, fritz! she's coming!" bawled one. "remember the fence over there, fritz, and what i told you!" cried jotham. fritz did not take the trouble to reply. he could hardly have done so even had he so desired, for just then he was most actively employed. at the time the cow made her abrupt plunge toward him the scout could not have been more than thirty feet away. he was wise enough to realize that should he attempt to make a wild dash for the fence surrounding the field, the active four legged animal would be able to overtake him before he could get half way there. and as the one way left to him fritz jumped to one side, in order to avoid contact with those cruel-looking black horns. his first act was one of impulse rather than anything else; he just sprang to one side, and allowed the animal to go surging past, so close that he could have easily reached out his hand, and touched her flank, had he chosen to do so. of course she would quickly realize that her attack had been a failure, and recovering, turn again to renew it. he must not be on the same spot when that time came. and as there was no better opening offered than the enclosure mentioned by jotham, he started for the same, with the cow in full pursuit, and his chums shrieking all sorts of weird advice. so close was the angry animal behind him that at first fritz could not take the time to mount that fence. he chased around it, and as if accepting the challenge, bossy did the same, kicking her heels high in the air, and with tail flying far in the rear. fritz managed to keep a pretty good distance ahead of his pursuer, and as there did not seem to be any particular danger just then, some of the boys allowed their feelings of hilarity to have full swing, so that peals of riotous laughter floated to the indignant ears of the fugitive. indeed, eben laughed so much that he lost his hold, and fell into the meadow; but it was ludicrous to see how nimbly he clambered up again, as though fearful lest the cow take a sudden notion to dash that way, changing her tactics. meanwhile fritz was laying his plans looking to what he would call a coup. when he had gained a certain distance on the circling cow, so that he would have time to scramble over the fence, he hastened to put this scheme into operation. fritz had dropped upon the ground, and was evidently panting for breath. at any rate, the boys, perched like a lot of crows on the distant fence, could see him waving his campaign hat rapidly to and fro, as though trying to cool off after his recent lively experience. "look at the old cow, would you?" burst out eben, "she sees him now, i tell you! say, watch her try and jump that fence, to get closer acquainted with our chum. oh! my stars! what d'ye think of that now; ain't she gone and done it though?" while the bugler of beverly troop was speaking, the angry cow made a furious dash forward. eben had naturally imagined she meant to try and follow fritz over the fence but he was wrong. there was a terrific crash as the head of the charging beast came in contact with the frail fence; and the next thing they knew the cow had thrown down an entire section, so that no longer did any barrier separate her from the object of her increasing fury. chapter iv in alabama camp fritz was no longer sitting there taking things comfortably, and cooling himself off by using his hat as a fan. with the terrific crash the scout was on his feet, ready for further flight, as he saw the head of the cow not ten feet away from where he stood. this time he made straight for another section of the fence, and passed over it "like a bird," as seth declared. but evidently fences had little terror for the aroused cow, since she immediately proceeded to knock down another section in about the space of time it would take to read the shortest riot act ever known. this prompt act again placed her on the same side as the fleeing fritz. the loud shouts of his chums warned him of her coming on the scene again, even if that suspicious crash had failed to do so. fritz was becoming used to clambering over fences by now; in fact it seemed to be something like a settled habit. the cow saw his lead, and went him one better, for a third crash told how the poorly constructed fence had gone down before her rush, like a pack of cards in the wind. all the while fritz was changing his location. he calculated that if only he could hold out for say three more "climbs," he would be in a position to make a run for the border fence, which was made much more stoutly then the division one, and would probably turn back even a swooping bull. after it was all over, fritz would demand that his comrades give him full credit for his cunning lead. meanwhile he was kept as busy as any real beaver; getting first on one side of the crumpling fence, and then on the other; while the cow kept on making kindling wood of the barrier. paul took advantage of the animal's attention being wholly centred upon fritz, to run out upon the field, and pick up the cast-off staff of the busy scout. his intention at the time was to render all the assistance in his power; but discovering that fritz was rapidly approaching a point where he could work out his own salvation, the scoutmaster thought discretion on his part warranted a hasty departure, unless he wished to take the place his comrade vacated. the boys on the fence were shouting, and waving their hats, and doing all manner of things calculated to attract the attention of the "gentle cow," and cause her to ease up in her attack; but apparently she was not to be bought off so cheaply, and meant to pursue her advantage to the bitter end. then came the chance for which the artful fritz had been so industriously working, when he made one more fling over the remnant of the enclosure fence, and upon reaching the outside, galloped away toward the road as fast as his legs could carry him. of course the cow chased after him again as soon as she had knocked down another section of fence; but fritz seemed to have pretty good wind, considering all he had been through; and he showed excellent sprinting powers that promised to put him among the leaders at the next high school field sports exhibition. and the other five scouts gave him a hearty cheer when they saw him nimbly take the high fence on the bound, with those wicked horns not more than five feet in his rear. they soon joined the panting one, who greeted his mates with a cheery grin, as though conscious of having done very well, under such distracting conditions. "but you've yet to know whether that milk is as rich as you hoped?" remarked paul, smilingly, as he handed fritz his staff. "and chances are, you went and lost that blessed nickel you meant to tie to one of gentle bossy's horns; what a shame, and a waste of good coin!" said seth, pretending to be very much disappointed. "huh! getting off pretty cheap at that!" grunted fritz. "ketch me tryin' to milk any cow that's got a calf up in the barn. i'd rather face two bulls than one like her. don't ever mention milk to me again; i know i'll just despise the looks of it from now on. whew! but didn't she mean business; and if ever those sharp horns had got attached to me, it would have been a hard job to break away." "if you feel rested, and have changed your mind about that same splendid milk," remarked paul, "perhaps we'd better be getting along now. three miles--why, fritz, i wouldn't be much surprised if you covered all of that in the little chase you put up. all you needed to beat the record for flying was a pair of wings." fritz was wonderfully good-natured, and they could not make him angry. when other boys were apt to scowl and feel "grouchy," fritz would come up smilingly after each and every round, ready to take punishment without limit. and so they continued to walk along the road, chatting among themselves as cheerily as footsore and weary scouts might be expected to do when trying to encourage each other to further exertions. every step really meant a good deal to their success, for in the course of ten minutes paul declared that another mile had been duly covered. when they saw another cow inside a fenced enclosure the boys tried by every argument they could devise to tempt fritz to try his hand once more, but he steadfastly declined to accept the dare. "say what you like, fellers," he remarked firmly, "me and cows are on the outs, for this trip anyway. it's somebody else's turn to afford amusement for the bunch. i've sure done my duty by the crowd. let me be, won't you? tackle seth there, or babe adams. i happen to know that they like milk just every bit as much as i do. water's good enough for me, right now; and here's the spring i've been looking for a long while." at that they all hastened to discover some spots where it was possible to lap up a sufficient supply of the clear fluid. this cooling drink seemed to invigorate the boys, so that when they started off again it was with a somewhat quicker step, and heads that were held up straighter than of late. it enabled them to reel off another mile without any great effort. "only one more, and then we've just got to let up on this thing," said paul. "i really believe you're getting tired of it yourself, mr. scoutmaster?" ventured one of the boys, eagerly; for if paul would only confess to this, they felt that they could stand their own weaknesses better. "and that is no joke," laughed paul, frankly. "you see, i haven't been hardening my muscles as much lately as when the baseball season was in full swing. but with two miles placed to our account, we shouldn't be much worried about how things are coming out. will we try for that last mile, boys? it's for you to say!" he received a unanimous shout of approval, which announced that the others were of a united mind. and so they kept along the road though some steps lagged painfully, and it was mainly through the exertions of the mind that the body was whipped into obeying. finally paul turned to eben, and made a quick gesture that the bugler was waiting for, since he immediately raised the shining instrument to his lips, puffed out his cheeks, took in a tremendous breath, and gave the call that was next to the "fall in for supper" signal, the most popular known to the scouts. "alabama! here we rest!" cried seth, turning aside into the woods after paul, who evidently had his eye on a certain location, where he meant to pitch the third night's camp. "that's a good idea," remarked andy, always quick to seize upon anything that gave a hint concerning his beloved south, "let's call this alabama camp!" "put it to a vote," called out fritz, "all in favor of the same say aye; contrary no. the ayes have it unanimously. hurrah for alabama camp. seems like that's a good restful name; and i hope we sleep right good here; for most of us are pretty well used up." "don't mention that same above a whisper," warned seth, "because we've got two awfully touchy chums along, who're always carrying chips on their shoulders when it comes to the subject of being knocked out. say, paul, did you know about this camp site before; because it's the dandiest place we've struck on the big hike?" "just dumb luck," replied the other, shaking his head in the negative. "i thought it looked good this way, when i called for a halt. and you're just about right, seth; it does fill the bill great. here's our spring of clear cold water; and there you have a splendid place to start your fire, jotham. now, let's throw ourselves down for a little while, and then when we feel rested, we'll get busy doing things." all of them were only too glad to do as paul suggested. and when another ten minutes had slipped past, jotham struggled to his feet to wearily but determinedly gather together some material with which to start a blaze. when he had it going noodles realized that it was now up to him to start getting some supper cooking. they had come in very light marching order, since paul realized that if they hoped to win that lovely prize he must not load any of the boys down with superfluous burdens. as a rule they depended on the farmers to supply them with such things as they needed, chiefly eggs and milk. the former they had along with them, several dozen eggs in fact, purchased from an obliging farmer earlier in the afternoon, and fortunately carried in other knapsacks than that of fritz, who would have smashed the entire supply, had he been in charge of the same at the time of his exciting adventure with the cow. upon putting it to a vote they decided that they could just as well do without any milk for one night; especially after fritz had shown them how difficult it sometimes was to accumulate a supply. of course a coffee pot had been brought along, for somehow a camp must always seem like a dreary desert without the delicious smell of boiling coffee at each and every meal that is prepared. so noodles made a grand big omelette, using sixteen eggs for the same, and the two frying pans that had been strapped, one to each pack of a couple of scouts. besides this they had some cheese and crackers, which would help fill the vacuum that seemed to exist an hour after each and every meal. several potatoes for each scout were duly placed in the red ashes of the fire, and jealously watched, in order that they might not scorch too badly before being thoroughly roasted. on the whole, there was no reason for being ashamed of that camp supper. everything tasted just "prime," as several of the boys took pains to say; for they were artful enough to know that by showering words of praise upon the cook, they might secure his valuable services for all time to come, because noodles was open to flattery. and what was better still, there was an abundant supply for all of them, regardless of the difference in appetites; fritz was not stinted in the least, for he actually declined a further helping, and had to be urged to clean out the pan just to keep "that little bit of omelet from being wasted." having no tent along, and only a couple of dingy old blankets which they expected to use for sending smoke signals, should the occasion arise, the scouts were compelled to resort to more primitive ways of spending the night than usual. but then paul had shown them how to sleep with their heads away from the fire; and he also arranged to keep the small blaze going during the entire night, since it was apt to get pretty chilly along about two in the morning. all these things had been arranged on the first night out, so that by this time the boys were pretty well accustomed to the novel way of sleeping. and on the whole they had taken to it fairly well, no one complaining save when the mosquitoes annoyed them in one camp near the water. an hour after supper had been disposed of some of the boys were already beginning to nod drowsily. and when fellows are just dead tired it seems a sin to try and keep them awake, especially when there is no need of it. so paul announced that those who wanted to could turn in, while the rest were enjoined to keep quiet, doing their talking in whispers, so as not to disturb the sleepers; just as if the discharge of a six pound cannon close by would bother those weary scouts, once they lost themselves in the dreamland of nod. babe adams had just stepped over to get a last drink at the near-by spring, when the others were surprised to see him come tearing back again, evidently in great excitement. "paul, come over here with me, and you can see it!" he called out. "see what?" demanded the scoutmaster, at the same time climbing to his feet. "looks like some farmhouse might be afire; because you c'n see the red flames jumping up like fun!" was the thrilling announcement made by the tenderfoot scout. chapter v a helping hand "it's a fire, all right!" announced paul, after he had taken a good look. "no question about that," declared seth, who was right on the heels of the others, for you could never keep him quiet when there was anything going on, because he always wanted to be "in the swim." "yes, either a house, or a barn ablaze," remarked eben, sagely. "might be only a hay stack, you know," suggested jotham. "don't burn like that to me; i seem to see something of a building every now and then, when the flames shoot up," paul went on to remark, for he was always discovering things upon which to found a reasonable theory. "how far away does it lie, dy'e think, paul?" asked andy. "not more than half a mile, i should say," came the reply. "just my idea to a dot," jotham admitted. "why, you c'n even hear the crackle of the flames, whenever the night wind happens to blow this way," babe adams asserted; and they all agreed with him, for the same sound had come to their ears also. "we might help the poor old farmer, if we only happened to be closer," eben said, in the goodness of his heart. "and if we didn't feel so bunged-up tired," added andy. somehow the scouts began to show signs of nervousness. those might seem like pretty good excuses to some fellows; but when a boy becomes a scout he somehow looks at things in a different way from in the old days. no matter how tired he may be, he eagerly seizes on a chance to be useful to others; to do some good deed, so as to experience the delightful glow that always follows a helpful act. "say, how about it?" began jotham. "could we be useful if we did manage to trot over there, paul?" andy demanded. "i'm sure we might," answered the scoutmaster, firmly; "and if we're going, why, the sooner we make a start the better. seconds count when a house or barn is on fire. i feel pretty well rested, speaking for myself; and half a mile each way oughtn't to do us up. we're scouts on a long hike, and able to do lots of things that other fellows wouldn't dare attempt." "take me along, paul!" cried jotham. "and me!" "hope you won't forget that i'm ready to be in the bunch," seth exclaimed. in fact, there was not one out of paul's seven companions who did not vociferously inform the leader of the patrol that he was a subject for the draft. "you can't all go," decided paul, quick to decide; "and as two fellows ought to stay and look after camp while the rest are off, i'll appoint noodles and eben to that duty." groans followed the announcement. "oh! all right, paul; just as you say," remarked the bugler, after giving vent to his disappointment in this manner; "we'll keep guard while the rest of you are having a bully good time. "perhaps something will happen along here to let us enjoy ourselves." "if you need help let us know it," paul called back, for he was already moving off in the direction of the fire, followed by the five lucky scouts. "how?" bellowed noodles; "do we whoop her up, paul?" "sound the assembly, and we'll hurry back," came the answer, as the pack of boys disappeared in the darkness of the night. they kept pretty well together, so that none might stray. consequently, when one happened to trip over some log or other obstacle that lay in the path he would sing out to warn his comrades, so as to save them from the same trouble. with such a bright beacon ahead there was no trouble about keeping on a direct line for the fire. and all the while it seemed to be getting more furious. indeed, what with the shouts that came to their ears, the bellowing of cattle, and whinnying of horses, things began to get pretty lively as they approached the farmyard. presently they seemed to break out from the woods, and reach an open field. beyond this they could plainly see the fire. "it's a barn, all right!" gasped jotham, immediately. "yes, and they seem to be afraid that the farmhouse will go, too," added andy. "they're throwing buckets of water on it, sure enough," sang out babe adams. now some of the boys could easily have outrun their mates, being possessed of longer legs, or the ability to sprint on occasion; but they had the good sense to accommodate themselves to the rest, so that they were still in a squad when drawing near the scene of the excitement. a man and a woman seemed to be about the sole persons visible, and they were laboring like trojans to keep the fire from communicating to the low farmhouse that was situated close to the burning barn. the six scouts must have dawned upon the vision of the sorely pressed farmer and his wife almost like angels, for the pair were nearly exhausted, what with the labor and the excitement. "buckets--water--let us help you!" was what paul exclaimed as they came up. cows were running this way and that, bellowing like mad, as though half crazed. what with frightened chickens cackling, and hogs grunting in their near-by pen, the scene was one that those boys would not forget in a hurry. "in the kitchen--help yourselves!" the farmer said, pointing as he spoke; and without waiting for any further invitation the scouts rushed pellmell into the rear part of the house, where they seized upon all sorts of utensils, from a big dishpan, to buckets, and even a small tin foot bath tub. a brook ran close to the barn, as paul had learned with his first comprehensive glance around. this promised to be a most fortunate thing for the would be fire-fighters. led by the scoutmaster, the boys dashed in that direction, filled whatever vessel they happened to be carrying, and then hurried back to the house. here the water was dashed over the side of the building that seemed to be already scorching under the fierce heat of the blazing barn. "get us a ladder; that roof will be on fire if we don't throw water over it!" paul shouted to the farmer, as he came in contact with the man. "this way--there's a ladder here by the hen house!" was what he replied. several of the boys seized upon it, and before you could think twice they were rushing the ladder toward the side of the house. paul climbed up, carrying with him a full bucket of water; and having dashed the contents of this in such a way as to wet a considerable portion of the shingle roof, he threw the bucket down to one of the boys below. another was quickly placed in his hands. everybody was working like a beaver now, even the farmer's wife, carrying water from the creek, and getting it up to the boy on the ladder. it was pretty warm work, for the heat of the burning barn seemed terrific; but then boys can stand a good deal, especially when excited, and bent on accomplishing things; and paul stuck it out, though he afterwards found several little holes had been burned in his outing shirt by flying sparks. the barn, of course, was beyond saving, and all their energies must be expended on the house. by slow degrees the fire was burning itself out. already paul felt that the worst was past, and that if they could only keep this up for another ten minutes all would be well. a couple of neighbors had come along by this time, to help as best they could. when a fire takes place in the country everybody is ready and willing to lend a hand at carrying out things, or fighting the flames in a primitive fashion; for neighbors have to depend more or less upon each other in case of necessity. "i reckon the house ain't liable to go this time," andy remarked, when paul came down the ladder finally, trembling from his continued exertions, which had been considerable of a strain on the lad, wearied as he was with three days' tramping. "that's a fact," remarked the farmer, who came hustling forward about this time, "and i owe you boys a heap for what you done this night. i guess now, only for you comin' to help, i'd a lost my house as well as my barn. as it is i've got a lot to be thankful for. just put insurance on the barn, and the new crop of hay last week. i call that being pretty lucky for once." he shook hands with each of the scouts, and asked after their names. "i want to let your folks know what you done for us this night, boys," he said, "and p'raps you might accept some little present later on, just as a sort of remembrance, you know." "how did the fire start, sir?" asked paul. "that's what bothers me a heap," replied the farmer. "then you don't know?" continued the scoutmaster, who felt a reasonable curiosity to learn what he could of the matter while on the spot. "it's all a blank mystery to me, for a fact," continued the farmer, whose name the boys had learned was mr. rollins. "my barn and stable was all one, you see. my man has been away all day, and i had to look after the stock myself, but i finished just as dark set in, before supper, in fact, so there ain't been so much as a lighted lantern around here tonight." "perhaps, when you lighted your pipe you may have thrown the match away, and it fell in the hay?" suggested paul. "if it had, the fire'd started long ago; fact is, i'd a seen it right away. and to settle that right in the start let me say i don't smoke at all, and didn't have any occasion to strike a single match while out here." of course this statement of the farmer seemed to settle all idea of his having been in any way responsible for the burning of the barn. "it looks like a big black mystery, all right," declared fritz, who always liked to come upon some knotty problem that needed solving. "have you any idea that the fire could have been the work of tramps?" paul went on to ask. "we are never troubled that way up here," replied the farmer. "you see, it's away from the railroad, and hoboes generally follow the ties when they tramp across country." "that makes it all the more queer how the fire could have started," paul went on to remark, thoughtfully. "couldn't a been one of the cows taken to smoking, i suppose?" ventured seth, in a humorous vein. "one thing sure," continued the farmer, a little uneasily, "that fire must have been caused by what they call spontaneous combustion; or else somebody set it on purpose." "do you know of anybody who would do such a terrible thing; that is, have you any enemy that you know of, sir?" questioned paul. "none that i would ever suspect of such a mean thing as that," was the farmer's ready reply. "we're human around here, you know, and may have our little differences now and then, but they ain't none of 'em serious enough to tempt a man to burn a neighbor's barn. no, that's a dead sure thing." "well, i'm glad to hear it," the scoutmaster went on. "and i don't suppose now, you've missed any valuables, have you, sir?" the farmer turned a shade whiter, and paul could see that a shiver went through his frame. "gosh! i hadn't thought about that. wait here a minute, will you, please?" with that he dashed into the house, as though a sudden terrible suspicion had assailed him. the six scouts stood there awaiting his return. mrs. rollins was talking with the neighbors, as they watched the last of the barn disappearing in a bed of red cinders. hardly had a full minute passed before the boys saw the farmer come leaping out of the building again. no need for any one to ask a question, because his whole appearance told the story of new excitement and mystery. if ever a man looked worried and nearly heart broken the farmer did then. "it's sure enough gone, every cent of it!" he groaned, as he reached the scouts. "your money, i suppose you mean?" paul asked, sympathetically; while fritz and seth pricked up their ears eagerly at the prospect of another chapter being added to the little excitement of the evening. "yes, three thousand dollars that was to pay off my mortgage next week. i had it hid away where i thought no thief could even find it; but the little tin box, and everything has been carried off. and now i know why the barn was fired--so as to keep the missus and me out there, while the rascal made a sneak into the house, and laid hands on my savings. all gone, and the mortgage due next week!" chapter vi the home-coming of jo davies "whew! that's tough!" observed seth. one or two of the other scouts whistled, to indicate the strained condition of their nerves; and all of them pressed up a little closer, so as not to lose a single word of what was passing. "but if as you say, sir, that you had this money securely hidden, it doesn't seem possible that an ordinary tramp would know the place where you kept it, so that he could dodge right into the house, and in a minute be off with it; isn't that so?" paul was the greatest hand you ever heard of to dip deeply into a thing. where most other boys of his age would be satisfied to simply listen, and wonder, he always persisted in asking questions, in order to get at the facts. and he was not born in missouri either, as seth often laughingly declared. the farmer looked at him. there was a frown beginning to gather on his forehead as though sudden and serious doubts had commenced to take a grip on his mind. "if he took my money i'll have the law on him, as sure as my name is sile rollins," paul heard him mutter, half to himself. "then you've thought of some one who might have known that you had three thousand dollars under your roof, is that it, sir?" he asked. "y-yes, but it's hard to suspect jo, when i've done so much for him these years he's been with me," admitted the owner of the farm; though at the same time his face took on a hard expression, and he ground his teeth together furiously, while he went on to say, "but if so be he has robbed me, i ain't called upon to have any mercy on him, just because his old mother once nursed my wife, and i guess saved her life. jo has got to hand my money back, or take the consequences." "is jo your hired man?" paul asked. the farmer nodded his head moodily; he was evidently a prey to mingled feelings, and close upon the border of a dazed condition. these calamities following so swiftly upon each other's heels had taken his breath away. but presently he would recover, and be eager to do something. "you said just a bit ago that he was away today, and that you had to do the chores this evening, looking after the stock, and such things; wasn't that it, sir?" continued the scoutmaster. "he asked to have this afternoon off; wouldn't say why he wanted to get away, either. and by ginger! now that i think of it, jo did look kind of excited when he was asking me for leave. i can see why that should be so. he was figuring on this nasty little game right then and there. he wanted to be able to prove an _alibi_ in case he was ever accused. and this evening he must have put a match to the hay in the barn, and then watched his chance to creep into the house when both of us was busy trying to save the stock. oh! it makes my blood boil just to think of it. and i never would have believed jo davies could have been so cold blooded as to take the chances of burnin' the animals he seemed to be so fond of." "did he stay here over night with you?" paul asked. "not as a rule, jo didn't. you see, he's got an old mother, and they live in a little cottage about a mile away from here toward town. so jo, he always made it a point to sleep there. i had no fault to find, because he was on hand bright and early every morning. but this will kill his old mother; however could he do it? chances are, he fell in with some racing men when we had the county fair, and has got to gambling. but i'll be ruined if i don't get that money back again." "could we help you in any way, mr. rollins? you know, boy scouts are always bound to be of assistance whenever they find a chance. we're on a great hike just now, and a little leg weary; but if we can stand by you further, please let us know. how about that, boys?" and paul turned toward his chums as he spoke. "that's the ticket, paul!" replied andy, promptly. "our sentiments, every time," said seth. and the others gave vigorous nods, to indicate that they were all of the same mind; which unanimity of opinion must have been a great satisfaction to the leader. "then let's go right away, boys!" remarked the farmer, eagerly. "p'raps now we might come up with jo on the way, and ketch him with the goods on. if he'll only give me back my money i'll agree not to prosecute, on account of his poor old mother, if nothing else. but i'm as bad off as a beggar if i lose all that hard earned cash." without saying anything to mrs. rollins or the neighbors, they hurried away, the boys keeping in a cluster around the farmer. if any of the scouts began to feel twinges in the muscles of their legs, already hard pushed, they valiantly fought against betraying the weakness. besides, the excitement acted as a tonic upon them, and seemed to lend them additional powers of endurance, just as it does in foot races where the strain is terrific. "it looks bad for jo davies, i should think, paul," andy managed to say, as they pushed resolutely along. "well, he is the one fellow who may have known about the money," admitted the scout master, "and if the temptation ever came to him, he could easily watch his employer, and learn where he hid the cash. how about that, mr. rollins?" the farmer had heard what was being said, and immediately replied: "if jo was bent on robbery, p'raps he could have watched me some time, and seen where i hid that little tin box away in the attic. i used to go there once a week to add some money to the savings that i'd foolishly drawn out of bank long before i needed 'em, just to see how it felt to be rich for a little while." "when was the last time you went up there to look at it?" paul asked. "let me see, when web sterry paid me for the heifer i sold him i put the money away; and that was just ten days back." "and it was all there then, you say?" questioned paul. "surely," replied the farmer. "was jo working near the house then, can you remember, sir?" mr. rollins appeared to reflect. "when was the day we did some carpenter work on that extension--as sure as anything it was the day webb paid me! yes, i remember, now, that jo came around from his work on the plane, and told me webb was there." the farmer's excitement was increasing. things, under the clever questioning of the young scoutmaster, seemed to be fitting in with each other, just as a carpenter dovetails the ends of a box together. "it looks as though jo might have spied on you when you went up to the attic to put that new money away with the rest. if he suspected that you were keeping a large sum in the house that's what he would most likely do when he knew you had just taken in some more cash. now, i don't know jo davies, and i don't like to accuse him of such a terrible crime; but circumstantial evidence all points in his direction, mr. rollins." paul measured his words. he never liked to think ill of any one; but really in this case it seemed as though there could be hardly any doubt at all; jo davies must be the guilty party. "are we gettin' near where jo lives?" asked jotham, trying to speak lightly, although there was a plain vein of anxiety in his voice; for when a fellow has covered nearly thirty miles since sun-up, every rod counts after that; and following each little rest the muscles seem to stiffen wonderfully. "more'n two-thirds the way there," replied the farmer. "we'll see a light, like as not, when we get around this turn in the woods road. that'll come from the little cabin where he lives with his old mother. oh! but i'm sorry for mrs. davies; and the boy, he always seemed to think so much of his maw, too. you never can tell, once these fast fliers get to running with racing men. but i only hope i get my own back again. that's the main thing with me just now, you know. and if jo, he seems sorry, i might try and forget what he's done. it all depends on how things turn out. see, just as i told you, there's the light ahead." all of them saw it; and as they continued to walk hastily forward through the darkness paul was thinking how human mr. rollins was, after all; for it was only natural that his first thought should be in connection with the safe recovery of his hard earned money. they rapidly drew near the cottage, and all of the boys were beginning to wonder what was fated to happen next on the programme. doubtless they were some of them fairly quivering with eagerness, and hoping that the thief might be caught examining the stolen cash box. "hush! there's somebody coming along over there; stand still, everybody!" paul gave warning, suddenly, and the whole party remained motionless, watching a lighted lantern that was moving rapidly toward the cottage from the opposite direction, being evidently carried by an approaching man. it continued to advance straight toward the cottage. then the unknown opened the door, and went in. "that was jo," muttered mr. rollins, "i seen his face plain as anything; but why would he be coming from the direction of town, instead of my place?" "oh! that might be only a clever little trick, sir," seth made haste to say, as though to indicate in this way that scouts were able to see back of all such sly dodges. "say, he sure had something under his arm," broke in jotham just then. "yes, i saw that, too," added paul. "it was a small package, not much larger than a cigar box, i should say, and wrapped up in brown paper." "p'raps my tin cash box?" suggested mr. rollins, in trembling tones. "it might be, though i hardly think any one smart enough to play such a game as setting fire to a barn in order to draw all attention away from the house he wanted to rob, would be silly enough to carry home a tin box that would convict him, if ever it was found there." paul made this remark. they had once more started to advance, though by no means as rapidly as before. the fact that jo davies had arrived just before them, and not only carrying a lighted lantern, but with a suspicious packet under his arm, seemed to necessitate a change of pace, as well as a new line of action. "let's sneak up to the window, and peek in?" suggested fritz, and somehow the idea appealed to the others, for without any argument they proceeded to carry out the plan of campaign. it promised to be easy work. the shade seemed to be all the way up, as though the old lady who lived in the humble cottage had left a light near the window purposely in order to cheer her boy when he turned the bend below, and came in sight of home. as noiselessly as possible, therefore, the six scouts, accompanied by the farmer, crept toward this window. the sill was not over four feet from the ground, and could be easily reached; indeed, in order not to expose themselves, they were compelled to stoop rather low when approaching the spot. some sort of flower garden lay under the window. paul remembered stepping upon unseen plants, and somehow felt a pang of regret at thus injuring what had probably taken much of the old lady's time and attention to nurse along to the flowering stage. but this was an occasion when all minor scruples must be laid aside. when a man has been basely robbed, and by an employee in whom he has put the utmost confidence, one cannot stand on ceremony, even if pet flowerbeds are rudely demolished. and if the farmer's suspicions turned out to be real facts, jo davies' old mother was apt to presently have worries besides which the breaking of her flowers would not be a circumstance. now they had reached a point where, by raising their heads, they could peep into the room where the lamp gave such illumination. as scouts the boys had long ago learned to be cautious in whatever they attempted; and hence they did not immediately thrust their heads upward, at the risk of attracting the attention of whoever might be within the room. on the contrary each fellow slowly and carefully raised himself, inch by inch, until his eyes, having passed the lower sill he could see, first the low ceiling, then the upper part of the opposite wall, and last of all the occupants themselves. they were two in number, one an old woman with a sweet face and snow-white hair; the other a tall, boyish-looking chap, undoubtedly the jo who had been farmhand to mr. rollins, and was now under the dreadful ban of suspicion. when paul first caught sight of these two they were bending over the table, on which something evidently lay that had been holding their attention. jo was talking excitedly. every minute he would pause in whatever he was saying, to throw his arms around the little old lady, who in turn would clasp her arms about his neck; and in this way they seemed to be exchanging mutual congratulations. but when they moved aside while thus embracing, paul felt a cold chill run up and down his spine because _there upon the table were several piles of bank bills_! chapter vii innocent or guilty? paul could feel the farmer trembling as he happened to come in contact with his person; and from this he guessed that mr. rollins had also discovered the pile of money on the table. was jo davies, then, such a silly fellow as this? it did not seem possible that anyone not a fool would rob his employer, and immediately hurry home, to throw the stolen money before his dear old mother, with some wonderful story of how he had found it on the road, perhaps, or had it given to him by a millionaire whose horse he stopped on the highway, when it was running away with a lady in the vehicle. and somehow, from the few little glimpses paul had caught of the young fellow's face he rather liked jo davies. if, as seemed very likely, the young man had been tempted to steal this money, it would cause paul a feeling of regret, even though he had not known there was such a being as jo davies in the world half an hour before. "whoo! see the long green!" he heard seth whisper. "reckon he's gone and done it, worse luck!" and from the words and the manner of his saying them, paul guessed that the speaker must have taken a fancy to jo, as well as himself. the window happened to be shut, and so this whisper attracted no attention on the part of those within the cottage. indeed, they were so given over to excitement themselves that they were hardly apt to notice anything out of the common. paul could feel the farmer beginning to slip down, and it was easy to understand that the sight of all that money made him want to rush inside, to claim it, before the bold thief had a chance to hide his plunder somewhere. and this was the only possible thing that should be done. while mr. rollins in the kindness of his heart might wish to spare the dear old lady all he could, he dared not take any chances of losing sight of his property. "come on, boys!" that was quite enough, for when the other scouts heard paul say these three simple words they knew that there was going to be something doing. and quickly did they proceed to fall in behind their leader and the farmer. under ordinary conditions, perhaps, it might have occurred to the patrol leader to throw some sort of guard around the cabin, so as to prevent the escape of the desperate thief. he did not think of doing such a thing now, for various reasons. in the first place, one of the scouts could hardly hope to cope with such a husky young fellow as the farmhand, if once he wanted to break through the line. then again, it hardly seemed likely that jo davies would attempt to flee, when his old mother was there to witness his confusion; in fact, the chances appeared to be that he would brazen it out, and try to claim that the money belonged to him. the door was close at hand, so that it took only part of a minute for the eager farmer to reach the means of ingress. he did not hesitate a second, after having set eyes on all that alluring pile of bank notes on the table, under the glow of the lamp. and when he suddenly opened the door, to burst into the room, paul and the other scouts were close upon his heels, every fellow anxious to see what was about to happen. of course the noise caused by their entrance in such a mass, was heard by those in the room. jo davies sprang to his feet, and assumed an attitude of defiance, one arm extended, as though to defend the little fortune that lay there exposed so recklessly upon the table. possibly this was the very first time in all his life that he had experienced such a sensation as fear of robbery. when a man has never possessed anything worth stealing, he can hardly know what the feeling is. so it must have been sheer instinct that caused jo to thus stand on guard, ready apparently to fight, in order to protect his property, however recently it may have come into his possession. no wonder that he felt this sudden alarm, to have the door of his home rudely thrown open, and a horde of fellows fairly tumbling over each other, in their eagerness to enter. then, the look of alarm seemed to pass away from the face of the young fellow; as though he had recognized his employer. paul wondered whether this was real or cleverly assumed. he saw jo actually smile, and advancing a step, half hold out his hand toward mr. rollins. but the farmer was looking very stern just then. he either did not see the extended hand, or else meant to ignore it purposely, for he certainly made no move toward taking it. "i've got back, mr. rollins," jo said, his voice rather shaky, either from excitement, or some other reason; and he stared hard at paul and the other khaki-garbed scouts, as though puzzled to account for their being there. "so i see," replied the farmer, grimly. "i hope you didn't hev too much trouble with the stock, mr. rollins," jo went on to say, in a half hesitating sort of way. "well, if i did, they are all safe and sound; perhaps you'd like to know that now," the farmer went on to remark, a little bitterly. jo looked at him queerly. "he either doesn't understand what that means, or else is trying to seem ignorant," was what paul thought, seeing this expression of wonderment. "i'm glad to hear that, sure i am, mr. rollins," the other remarked, slowly, "an' seein' as how you're dropped in on us unexpected like, p'raps i ought to tell you what i meant to say in the mornin.'" "what's that?" demanded mr. rollins, unconsciously edging a little closer to the table where that tempting display of greenbacks could be seen; just as though he began to fear that it might suddenly take wings and fly away before he could put in a claim for his property. "i've come in for a little windfall, sir," began jo, proudly it appeared. "looks like you had," grumbled the farmer, as he flashed his eyes again toward the display so near at hand. "and if so be you're of the same mind about that thatcher farm, p'raps we might come to terms about the same, sir. i guess you'd just as lief sell it to _me_ as anybody else, wouldn't you, mr. rollins?" "you seem to have a lot of money all of a sudden, jo?" suggested the farmer, in a hoarse tone, so that he had to clear his throat twice while speaking. "yes, sir, that's so," declared the young farm hand, eagerly. "i never dreamed of such grand good fortune as an old aunt of mine dying up in indianapolis, and leaving me all she had in bank. that's why i asked to get off this afternoon, mr. rollins, so i could run over, and get what was comin' to me." the farmer was grinding his teeth a little; but so long as he believed he saw all his stolen hoard before him, within reach of his hand, he seemed able to control himself; he even waxed a trifle sarcastic, paul thought, when, looking straight at his hired man, he went on to say: "perhaps now, jo, i might give a pretty good guess about the size of this wonderful fortune you've come into so sudden-like. how would three thousand sound to you, jo? is that about the figure now, tell me?" jo turned a wondering face toward his old mother. "well, did you ever hear the beat of that, maw?" he cried, "mr. rollins has just guessed the size of my pile to a dollar, because it was just three thousand old aunt libby left me--a few dollars over p'raps. however did you know it, sir?" and he once more faced the sneering farmer. "i'll tell you, jo," continued mr. rollins, coldly, "i happen to have just had three thousand dollars in bills stolen from my house this very night, by some rascal who first of all set fire to my stable and barn, so that the missus and me'd be so taken up with saving our pet stock we'd leave the farmhouse unguarded. yes, and there _was_ a few dollars more'n three thousand dollars, jo. queer coincidence i'd call it now, wouldn't you?" jo turned deathly white, and stared at his employer. his eyes were round with real, or assumed horror. if he was "putting on," as seth would term it, then this farm hand must be a pretty clever actor for a crude country bumpkin, paul thought. "oh! jo, my boy, my boy, what does he mean by saying that?" the little old lady had arisen from her chair, though she trembled so that she seemed in danger of falling; but paul unconsciously moved a pace closer, ready to catch her in his arms if she swooned. but jo, quick as a flash, hearing her voice, whirled around, and threw a protecting arm about her. "it's all right, maw; don't you go and be afraid. i ain't done nawthing you need to be fearful about. this money's mine! set down again, deary. don't you worrit about jo. he ain't agoin' to make your dear old heart bleed, sure he ain't." and somehow, when paul saw the tender way in which the rough farm boy forced the little old lady back into her chair, and caught the positive tone in which he gave her this assurance, he seemed almost ready to believe jo _must_ be innocent; although when he glanced at the money his heart misgave him again. "now, mr. rollins, please tell me what it all means?" asked jo, turning and facing his employer again, with a bold, self-confident manner that must have astonished the farmer not a little. "i just come up from town as fast as i could hurry, because, you see, i knew i was bringin' the greatest of news to maw here. i did see a sorter light in the sky when i was leavin' town, and thinks i to myself, that old swamp back of the ten acre patch must be burnin' again; but i never dreamed it was the stable and hay barn, sure i didn't sir." the farmer hardly seemed to know what to say to this, he was so taken aback by the utter absence of guilt in the face and manner of jo. before he could frame any sort of reply the young fellow had spoken again. "you said as how you'd got all the stock out safe, didn't you, mr. rollins? i'd just hate to think of polly and sue and the hosses bein' burned up. whatever d'ye think could a set the fire agoin'? mebbe that last hay we put in wa'n't as well cured as it might a been, an' it's been heatin' right along. i meant to look into it more'n once, but somethin' always came along an' i plumb forgot it." mr. rollins looked at him, and frowned. he did not know how to answer such a lead as this. he was growing impatient, almost angry again. "give me my money, jo, and let me be going; i can't breathe proper in here, you've upset me so bad," he said, holding out his hand with an imperative gesture. "but i ain't got no money of yours, mr. rollins," expostulated the other, stubbornly. "i'm awful sorry if you've gone and lost your roll, and i'd do most anything to help you find it again; but that money belongs to me, and i don't mean to turn it over to nobody. it's goin' to buy a home for me and maw, understand that, sir--your little thatcher place, if so be you'll come to terms; but some other if you won't. that's plain, sir, ain't it?" "what, do you have the nerve to stick to that silly story, after admitting that this wonderfully gotten fortune of yours tallies to the dollar with what has been taken from my house?" demanded mr. rollins, acting as though half tempted to immediately pounce upon the treasure, and take possession, depending on paul and his scouts to back him up if jo showed fight. "i sure do; and i know what i know, mr. rollins!" declared the farmhand, with flashing eyes, as he pushed between the table and the irate farmer; while his little mother wrung her clasped hands, and moaned pitifully to see the strange thing that was happening there under her own roof. it looked for a moment as though there might be some sort of a rumpus; and seth even began to clench his hands as if ready to take a prominent part in the same; but as had happened more than a few times before when the storm clouds gathered over the scouts, paul's wise counsel intervened to prevent actual hostilities. "wait a minute, mr. rollins," he called out. "this thing ought to be easily settled, one way or another. you understand that queer things may happen sometimes, and there is a chance that two sums of money may be almost exactly alike. now, if jo here has inherited a nice little fortune, he ought to be able to prove that to us by showing letters, or some sort of documents. how about that, jo?" to the surprise, and pleasure as well, of the scoutmaster, jo's face immediately expanded into a wide grin, and he nodded his head eagerly. "say, maw, what did you do with that letter we had from the law firm over in indianapolis, tellin' me to come and claim my property, and to bring along something to prove that i was the said jo albion davies mentioned in aunt selina's last will and testament? in the drawer, you mean? all right, i'll get it; and let these gentlemen read the same. and there's squire mcgregor as went up with me to identify me to the lawyers, he'll tell you he saw me get this money from the bank, just before they closed this arternoon. there she is; now read her out loud, young feller." chapter viii "well, of all things!" "all right; i'll be only too glad to do the same," said paul, as he accepted what appeared to be a well thumbed letter from jo. one glance he gave at the same, and then a load seemed to have been lifted somehow from his boyish heart; because, after he had seen how jo davies loved that dear little white-haired mother, he would have felt it keenly did the circumstances make it appear that the young farmhand were guilty of robbing the man who trusted him so fully. so paul read out the letter. there is no need of giving it here, because it was rather long, and written in a very legal-like way, each sentence being enveloped in a ponderous atmosphere. but it was upon the letter-head of a big law firm in indianapolis, and in so many words informed the said jo albion davies that his respected aunt, selina lee davies, had passed out of this life, leaving him her sole heir; and that if he were interested, it would be to his advantage to come to the city as speedily as possible, to claim the little sum that was waiting for him in bank; and to be sure and bring some one along with him who would be able to vouch for his being the party in question. luckily jo had taken squire mcgregor along, who happened to know one of the members of the big law firm; for otherwise the heir might have had some trouble in proving his identity, since he had forgotten to carry even the letter in his pocket, it seemed. but of course after that mr. rollins could not say a word about claiming the tempting display of greenbacks that lay exposed upon the table. jo was already engaged in tenderly gathering them up, as though meaning to secrete his little fortune either on his person, or somewhere else. "looks like i'm clean busted, don't it?" the farmer said, with a sigh, turning toward paul, upon whom he had somehow come to rely in the strangest way possible. "it does seem as though your money has gone in a queer way, sir," replied the young scoutmaster, "but honestly now, i find it hard to believe that a common hobo would be able to find it so quick, if you had it hidden away up in a corner of the garret, and hadn't been there for ten days." jo stopped gathering his fortune together; he had snapped several heavy rubber bands around it, evidently supplied at the city bank when he drew the money. "i wonder, now, could that have anything to do with it," they heard him mutter, as he looked curiously at the farmer. the words were heard by mr. rollins, who, ready to grasp at a floating straw, in his extremity, even as might a drowning man, quickly observed: "what do you mean by saying that, jo? i hope you can give me some sort of hint that will help me find my money again; because i meant to pay off my mortgage with it, and will be hard pushed to make good, if it stays lost." "i'll tell you, sir," said jo, readily. "it was just about a week ago that i'd been to town, you remember, and getting home along about midnight i was worried about one of the hosses that had been actin' sick like. so i walked over here, not wantin' to wait till mornin'. just when i was agoin' back i seen a light movin' around over at the house, and i stopped a minute to watch the same." "yes, go on; a week ago, you say?" the farmer remarked, as jo paused to catch his breath again. "on thursday night it was, mr. rollins," the other went on. "well, just then i saw the back door open, and somebody stepped out. i seen it was you, and about the queerest part of it all was that it looked to me as if you might be walkin' around in your pajamas! do you remember comin' outdoors on that night for anything, sir?" "i don't even remember walking around that way," replied mr. rollins, hastily, and looking as though he did not know whether jo were trying to play some sort of joke on him, or not, "but go on and tell the rest. what did i do? did you stop long enough to see?" "well," continued the farm hand, "i saw you go over to the old dutch oven that hasn't been used this twenty years, and move around there a bit; but it wasn't none of my business, mr. rollins, and so i went along home. i guess any gentleman's got the right to go wanderin' around his own premises in the middle of the night, if he wants to, and nobody ain't got any right to complain because he don't make the trouble to put on his day clothes." the farmer looked helplessly at paul. plainly his wits were in a stupor, and he could not make head or tail of what jo was telling him. "can you get a pointer on to what it all means?" he asked, almost piteously. paul had conceived a wonderful idea that seemed to give great promise of solving the dark puzzle. "you just as much as said that you could not remember having come out of your house that night; and that you never knew yourself to walk around out of doors in your pajamas; is that so, sir?" he asked. "that's what i meant; and if i was put on the stand right now, i could lift my right hand, and take my solemn affidavit that i didn't do any such thing--unless by george! i was walking in my sleep!" "that's just the point i'm trying to get at, mr. rollins," said paul, quietly. "jo, here, says he _saw_ you as plain as anything, and yet you don't recollect doing it. see here, sir, can you ever remember walking in your sleep?" "why, not for a great many years," answered the farmer, somewhat confused, and yet with a new gleam of hope appearing in his expectant eyes. "but you admit then that you _have_ done such a thing?" pursued the scoutmaster. "yes, as a boy i did a heap of queer stunts when asleep. they had to lock my door for a time, and fasten my windows. why, one night they found me sitting on top of the chimney, and had to wait till i took the notion to come down; because, if they woke me, it might mean a nasty tumble that would like as not break my neck. but i haven't done anything in that line for thirty years." "until one night a week ago, mr. rollins," continued paul, convincingly, "when dreaming that your money was in danger, you got out of your bed, went up and took it from the garret where you had it hidden, walked downstairs, passed outside, and stowed it nicely away inside the big old dutch oven. and chances are you'll find it right there this minute." "oh! do you really think so, my boy?" exclaimed the delighted farmer, "then i'm going off right away and find out. if you'll go with me i'll promise to hitch up, and carry the lot of you back to your camp, no matter where that may be." "what say, shall we go, fellows?" asked the patrol leader, turning to the others. there was not one dissenting voice. every boy was just wild to ascertain how this strange mystery would turn out. and as it would be just about as long a walk to alabama camp as going to the farmer's place, they decided the matter without any argument. "and you just bet i'm going along, after what i've heard about this thing," declared jo davies, "maw, you ain't afraid to stay alone a little while longer, be you? you c'n sit on this blessed windfall while i'm gone, but don't go to fingerin' the same, because walls often have eyes as well as ears, remember." when the six scouts started off in company with mr. rollins, jo davies tagged along with them. in his own good fortune the farm hand was only hoping that the money which his employer had missed might be found in the old dutch oven, just like this smart boy scout had suggested. they covered the distance in short order. you would never have believed that those agile lads had been walking for nearly twelve hours that day, if you could see how they got over the ground, even with two of them limping. it can be easily understood that there was more or less speculation among the scouts as they hurried along. would the farmer find his missing wad snugly secreted in the old dutch oven, as paul so confidently suggested? and if such turned out to be the case, wouldn't it prove that the scoutmaster was a wonder at guessing things that were a blank puzzle to everybody else? so they presently came again to the farm. the ashes were still glowing where the big barn had so recently stood. here and there a cow or a horse could be seen, nosing around in the half light, picking at the grass in forbidden corners, and evidently about done with their recent fright. straight toward the back of the house the farmer led the way, and up to the old dutch oven that had been built on to the foundation, for the baking of bread, and all family purposes, many years back; but which had fallen into disuse ever since the new coal range had been placed in the kitchen. everybody fairly held their breath as mr. rollins dropped down on his hands and knees, struck a match, and half disappeared within the huge receptacle. he came backing out almost immediately; and before his head and shoulders appeared in view paul knew that he had made a glorious find, because they could hear him laughing almost hysterically. "just like you said, my boy, it was there!" he cried, holding up what proved to be the missing tin box that held his hoard. "and to think that i stole my own cash while i was asleep! i guess my wife'll have to tie my feet together every night after this, for a while; or perhaps i'll be running away with everything we've got. say, jo, i hope you ain't going to hold it against me that i suspected you'd been and had your morals corrupted by some of them horse jockeys you met at the county fair this summer? and about that thatcher place, jo, we'll easy make terms, because nobody ain't going to have it but you and your maw, hear that?" "well, of all things," exclaimed the delighted seth. jo evidently did not hold the slightest ill feeling against his old friend and employer, for he only too gladly took the hand mr. rollins held out. "turns out just like the fairy story, with everybody happy; only we don't see the princess this time," said seth, after the scouts had given three cheers for jo, and then three more for mr. rollins. "oh!" remarked jo, with a huge grin, "she's comin' along purty soon now; and my gettin' this windfall'll hurry up the weddin' a heap. drop past the thatcher farm along about thanksgivin' time, boys, and i'll be glad to introduce you to her." "say, perhaps we will," seth declared, with boyish enthusiasm, "because, you see, we all live at beverly, which ain't more'n twenty miles away as the crow flies. how about it, fellows?" "we'll come along with you, seth, never fear. and now, the sooner we get over to camp the better, because some of us are feeling pretty well used up," andy went on to admit with charming candor. "all right, boys, just give me a minute to run indoors, and put this package away, and i'll be with you. it won't take long to hitch up, because we managed to save the harness and wagons, me and the missus." true to his word mr. rollins was back in a very brief space of time, and catching the two horses he wanted, he attached them to a big wagon. "tumble in, boys," he called out, as he swung himself up on the driver's seat, after attaching the lighted lantern to the front, so that he could see the road as they went along. the scouts waited for no second invitation, but speedily secured places in the body of the vehicle. as there was half a foot of straw in it, they found things so much to their liking that on the way, at least three of the boys went sound asleep, and had to be aroused when the camp was finally reached. eben and noodles were poor sentinels, it seemed, for both were lying on the ground asleep, nor did they know when the other returned until told about it in the morning. but fortune had been kind to the "babes in the wood," as seth called them in derision, for nothing had happened while the main body of the patrol chanced to be away on duty. and so it was another little adventure had come along, with wonderful results, and the happiest of endings. really, some of the boys were beginning to believe that the strangest of happenings were always lying in wait, as if desirous of ambushing the members of the beaver patrol. why, they could even not start off on a hike, it seemed, without being drawn into a series of events, the like of which seldom if ever befell ordinary lads. during the hours of darkness that followed all of them slept soundly, nor was there any alarm given to disturb them. and as nothing in the wide world brings such satisfaction and contentment as good sleep, when at dawn they awoke to find the last day of the great hike at hand, every fellow declared that he was feeling especially fit to make that concluding dash with a vim. breakfast was hastily eaten; indeed, their stock of provisions had by this time gotten to a low ebb, and would not allow of much variety; though they managed to scrape enough together to satisfy everybody but fritz, who growled a little, and wanted to know however a scout could do his best when on short rations? then to the inspiring notes of eben's silver-plated bugle the boys of the beaver patrol left alabama camp, and started on the last lap for their home goal. chapter ix the runaway balloon "hey! look at all the crows flying over, would you?" seth called this out as he pointed upwards, and the rest of the patrol naturally turned their heads in order to gape. "whew! did you ever see such a flock of the old caw-caws?" burst out eben. "give 'em a toot from your bugle, and see what they think?" suggested jotham. "for goodness sake, be careful," broke in fritz, "because they might be so knocked in a heap at eben's fine playing, they'd take a tumble, and nearly smother the lot of us. we'd think it was raining crow, all right." "are they good to eat?" demanded babe, who was pretty green as yet to a great many things connected with outdoor life, "because, if we have time to stop at noon to cook a meal, we might--" he was interrupted by a shout from several of the other and wiser scouts. "say, hold on there, babe, we haven't got that near being starved as to want to eat crow," declared andy. "can they be eaten at all, paul?" persisted babe, as usual turning to the scoutmaster for information; "seems to me i've heard something like that." "yes, and people who have tried say they're not near as bad a dish as the papers always make out," paul replied. "i don't see myself why they should be, when most of the time they live on the farmer's corn." "but can you tell where that bunch is coming from, and where bound?" continued babe. "they all come out of that same place, and keep chattering as they soar on the wind, which must be some high up there." "well, i've heard it said that there's a big crow rookery somewhere back in the gloomy old black water swamps; but i never met anybody that had ever set eyes on the same. every day, winter and summer, that big flock comes out, and scatters to a lot of feeding grounds; some going down the river, where they pick up food that's been cast ashore; others bound for a meal in the corn fields." "and they come back again in the night to roost there; is that it, paul?" "yes, i guess if we stood right here half an hour before dark we'd see squads of the noisy things heading over yonder from all sorts of quarters. d'ye know, i've sometimes had a notion i'd like to explore the heart of that queer old swamp," and the young patrol leader cast a thoughtful glance toward the quarter from whence that seemingly endless stream of crows flowed continually. "hurrah! that's the ticket!" exclaimed seth. "i've heard a heap about that same spooky old place myself. they say nobody ever has been able to get to the heart of it. and i heard one man, who traps quite a lot of muskrats every winter, tell how he got lost in a part of the swamp once, and spent a couple of pretty tough days and nights wandering around, before he found his way out again. he said it'd take a heap to tempt him to try and poke into the awful center of black water swamps." "but what's that to us, fellers?" ejaculated fritz. "the boys of the beaver patrol ain't the kind to get scared at such a little thing as a swamp. just because it's a tough proposition ought to make us want to take up the game, and win out. we fairly eat hard jobs! and looking back we have a right to feel a little proud of the record we've made, eh, fellers?" of course every scout stood up a little straighter at these words, and smiled with the consciousness that they had, as fritz so aptly put it, a right to feel satisfied with certain things that had happened in the past, and from which they had emerged acknowledged victors. "just put a pin in that, to remember it, paul, won't you?" said andy. "why, sure i will, since a lot of you seem to think it worth while," replied the obliging scoutmaster, with a smile, "and if we haven't anything ahead that seems to be more worth while, we might turn out here later on, prepared to survey a trail right through the swamp. i admit that i'm curious myself to see what lies hidden away in a place where, up to now, no man has ever set a foot." "hurrah for the young explorers!" cried eben, who seemed strangely thrilled at the tempting prospect. they say the boy is father to the man; and among a bunch of six or eight lads it is almost a certainty that you will find one or two who fairly yearn to grow up, and be second livingstones, or stanleys, or dr. kanes. eben had read many books concerning the amazing doings of these pathfinders of civilisation, and doubtless even dreamed his boyish dreams that some fine day he too might make the name of newcomb famous on the pages of history by discovering some hitherto unknown tribe of black dwarfs; or charting out a land that had always been unexplored territory. they looked back many times at the stream of flying crows that continued to issue from that one point beyond the thick woods. and somehow the very prospect of later on trying to accomplish a task that had until then defied all who had attempted it, gave the scouts a pleasing thrill of anticipation. for such is boy nature. strange how things often come about. just at that moment not one of the scouts even dreamed of what was in store for them. how many times the curtain obscures our sight, even when we are on the very threshold of discovery! they tramped along sturdily, until they had covered perhaps two miles since departing from the place where the third night had been spent, and which would go down in the record of the big hike as camp alabama. a couple of the scouts limped perceptibly, but even they declared that as they went on the "kinks" were getting out of their legs, and presently all would be well. the sun shone from a fair sky, though now and then a cloud would pass over his smiling face; but as the day promised to be rather hot none of them were sorry for this. "hope it don't bring a storm along, though," remarked babe, when the matter was under discussion. "well, it's got to be some storm to keep the boys of the beaver patrol from finishing their hike on time," declared seth, grimly. "that's so, seth, you never spoke truer words," added fritz. "i reckon, now, half of beverly will turn out on the green this after noon to see the conquering heroes come home. there's been the biggest crowds around that jeweler's window all week, staring at that handsome cup, and wishing they would have a chance to help win it." "and we'd hate the worst kind to disappoint our friends and folks, wouldn't we, fellers?" eben remarked. somehow both limpers forgot to give way to their weakness, and from that minute on the very thought of the great crowd that would send up a tremendous cheer when the boys in khaki came in sight, was enough to make them walk as though they did not know such a thing as getting tired. "look!" cried fritz, a couple of minutes afterwards, "oh! my stars! what's that big thing rising up behind the tops of the trees over there?" "somebody's barn is blowing away, i guess!" exclaimed eben, in tones that shook with sudden alarm. "mebbe's it's a cyclone acomin', boys. paul, what had we ought to do? it ain't safe to be under trees at such a time, i've heard!" "cyclone, your granny!" jeered seth carpenter, who had very sharp eyes, and was less apt to get "rattled" at the prospect of sudden danger, than the bugler of beverly troop, "why, as sure as you live, i believe it's a balloon, paul!" "what! a real and true balloon?" almost shrieked eben, somewhat relieved at the improved prospect. "you're right, seth," declared the scoutmaster, "it _is_ a balloon, and it looks to me right now as though there's been trouble for the aeronaut. that gas-bag has a tough look to me, just as if it had lost about half of the stuff that keeps it floating! see how it wabbles, will you, fellows, and how low down over the trees it hangs. there, it just grazed that bunch of oaks on the little rise. the next time it'll get caught, and be ripped to pieces!" "paul, do you think that can be a man hanging there?" cried seth. "sometimes it looks to me like it was; and then again the balloon tilts over so much i just can't be sure." "we'll know soon enough," remarked the patrol leader, quietly, "because, as you can see, the runaway balloon is heading this way, full tilt. i wouldn't be surprised if it passed right over our heads." "say, perhaps we might grab hold of some trailing rope, and bring the old thing down?" suggested fritz, looking hastily around him while speaking, as if desirous of being prepared, as a true scout should always make it a point to be, and have his tree picked out, about which he would hastily wind a rope, should he be fortunate enough to get hold of such. "whew! i wouldn't want to be in that feller's shoes," observed eben, as they all stood there in the road, watching the rapidly approaching balloon. "solid ground for me, every time, except when i'm in swimming, or skimming along over the ice in winter!" andy interjected, without once removing his eager eyes from the object that had so suddenly caught their attention. it was a sight calculated to hold the attention of any one, with that badly battered balloon sweeping swiftly along on the wind, and approaching so rapidly. all of them could see that there was a man clinging to the ropes that marked the place where the customary basket should have been; evidently this latter must have been torn away during a collision with the rocks or trees on the top of a ridge with which the ungovernable gas-bag had previously been in contact; and it was a marvel how the aeronaut had been able to cling there. "will it land near here, d'ye think, paul?" asked jotham, round-eyed with wonder, and feeling very sorry for the wretched traveler of the upper air currents, who seemed to be in deadly peril of his life. "i hardly think so," replied the scoutmaster, rapidly measuring distances with his ready eye, and calculating upon the drop of the half collapsed balloon. "but see where the bally old thing's heading, will you?" cried seth, "straight at the place where them crows came out of. say, wouldn't it be awful tough now, if it dropped right down in the heart of black water swamps, where up to now never a human being has set foot, unless some indian did long ago, when the shawnees and sacs and pottawattomies and all that crowd rampaged through this region flat-footed." the scouts stood there, and watched with tense nerves as the drifting balloon drew rapidly closer. now they could plainly see the man. he had secured himself in some way among the broken ropes that had doubtless held the basket in place. yes, and he must have discovered the presence of the little khaki-clad band of boys on the road, for surely he was waving his hand to them wildly now. perhaps he understood that it was a safe thing to appeal to any boy who wore that well known suit; because every one has learned by this time that when a lad takes upon himself the duties and obligations of scoutcraft, he solemnly promises to always help a fellow in distress, when the opportunity comes along; and with most scouts the habit has become so strong that they always keep both eyes open, looking for just such openings. closer and closer came the wrecked air monster. just as one of the boys had said, it seemed about to pass very nearly overhead; and as the man would not be more than sixty or seventy feet above them, possibly he might be able to shout out a message. "keep still! he's calling something down to us!" cried seth, when several of the others had started to chatter at a lively rate. now the balloon was whipping past, going at a pretty good clip. apparently, then, it did not mean to get quite low enough to let them clutch any trailing rope, and endeavor to effect the rescue of the aeronaut. fritz did make an upward leap, and try to lay hold of the only rope that came anywhere near them; but missed it by more than a foot. "accident--badly wrenched leg--follow up, and bring help--anderson, from st. louis--balloon _great republic_--report me as down--will drop in few minutes!" they caught every word, although the man's voice seemed husky, and weak, as if he might have been long exposed and suffering. and as they stood and watched the balloon drift steadily away, lowering all the time, every one of those eight scouts felt moved by a great feeling of pity for the valiant man who had risked his life and was now in such a desperate situation. "there she goes down, fellers!" cried eben, excitedly. "and what d'ye know, the bally old balloon has taken a crazy notion to drop right in the worst part of the black water swamps, where we were just saying nobody had ever been before!" chapter x duty above all things "gee! whiz! that's tough!" fritz gave vent to his overwrought feelings after this boyish fashion; and his words doubtless echoed the thought that was in the mind of every fellow in that little bunch of staring scouts. true enough, the badly damaged balloon had taken a sudden dip downward, as though unable to longer remain afloat, with such a scanty supply of gas aboard; and as seth said, it certainly looked as though it had chosen the very worst place possible to drop--about in the heart of the swamp. "now, why couldn't the old thing have dipped low enough right here for us to grab that trailing rope?" demanded jotham, dejectedly; for he immediately began to feel that all manner of terrible things were in store for the aeronaut, if, as seemed likely, he would be marooned in the unknown morass, with no means of finding his way out, and an injured leg in the bargain to contend with. "hope he didn't come down hard enough to hurt much," remarked andy. "huh! if half we've heard about that place is true, little danger of that," declared seth. "chances are he dropped with a splash into a bed of muck. i only hope he don't get drowned before help comes along!" "help! what sort of help can reach him there?" observed fritz, solemnly; and then once again did those eight scouts exchange uneasy glances. "as soon as we let them know in beverly, why, sure they'll organize some sort of relief expedition. i know a dozen men who'd be only too glad to lend a helping hand to a lost aeronaut," andy went on to say. "wherever do you suppose he came from, paul?" asked eben. "say, didn't you hear him say st. louis?" demanded seth. "better take some of that wax out of your ears, eben." "whee! that's a pretty good ways off, seems to me," the bugler remarked, shaking his head, as though he found the story hard to believe. "why, that's nothing to brag of," seth assured him. "they have big balloon races from st. louis every year, nearly, and the gas-bags drift hundreds of miles across the country. i read about several that landed in new jersey, and one away up in canada won the prize. this one met with trouble before it got many miles on its journey. and he wants us to report that the _great republic_ is down; anderson, he said his name was, didn't he, paul?" "yes, that was it," replied the scoutmaster. paul seemed to be looking unusually grave, and the others realized that he must have something of more than usual importance on his mind. "how about that, paul," broke out fritz, who had been watching the face of the patrol leader, "we're about eighteen miles away from home; and must we wait till we get there to start help out for that poor chap?" "he might die before then," remarked jotham seriously. again a strange silence seemed to brood over the whole patrol. every fellow no doubt was thinking the same thing just then, and yet each boy hated to be the one to put it into words. they had taken so much pride in the big hike that to even suggest giving it up, and just in the supreme moment of victory, as it were, seemed next door to sacrilege, and yet they could not get around the fact that it seemed right up to them to try and save that forlorn aeronaut. his life was imperiled, and scouts are always taught to make sacrifices when they can stretch out a hand to help any one in jeopardy. paul heaved a great sigh. "fellows," he said, solemnly, "i'm going to put it up to you this time, because i feel that the responsibility ought to be shared; and remember majority rules whenever the scoutmaster thinks best to let the troop decide." "all right, paul," muttered seth, dejectedly. "it's only fair that you should saddle some of the responsibility on the rest of the bunch," admitted jotham, hardly a bit more happy looking than seth; for of course every one of them knew what was coming; and could give a pretty good guess as to the consequences. "that's a fact," added fritz, "so out with it, paul. when i've got a bitter dose to swallow i want to hurry, and get it over." "it hurts none of you more than it does me," went on the scoutmaster, firmly, "because i had set my heart on winning that fine trophy; and there'll be a lot of people disappointed this afternoon when we fail to show up, if we do." "sure thing," grunted seth, "i c'n see our friend, freddy rossiter, going around with that sickly grin on his face, telling everybody that he always knew we were a lot of fakirs, and greatly overrated; and that, like as not, even if we did show up we'd a been carried many a mile on some hay-wagon. but go on, paul; let's have the funeral quick, so a feller c'n breathe free again." "i'm going to put a motion, and every scout has a right to vote just as he thinks best. only before you decide, stop and think what it all means, to that poor man as well as ourselves," paul continued. "ready for the motion," mumbled fritz, who looked as though he had lost his very last friend, or was beginning to feel the advance symptoms of sea sickness. "all in favor of changing our plans, and trying to rescue the lost balloonist right now, say yes," the scoutmaster demanded, in as firm a tone as he could muster. a chorus of affirmatives rang out; some of the boys were a little weak in the reply they made, for it came with an awful wrench; but so far as paul could decide the response was unanimous. he smiled then. "i'm proud of you, fellows, yes i am," he declared heartily. "i think i know just what each and every one of you feels, and when you give up a thing you've been setting your minds on so long, and just when it looks as if we had an easy walk-over, i'm sure it does you credit. some of the beverly people may laugh, and make fun when we fail to turn up this afternoon; but believe me, when we do come in, and they learn what's happened, those for whose opinion we care will think all the more of us for doing what we mean to." "hope so," sighed seth, who could not coax any sort of a smile to his forlorn looking face, "but because i talk this way, paul, don't you go and get the notion in your head that if the whole thing depended on me i'd do anything different from what we expect to. there's such a thing as duty that faces every scout who's worthy of the name. for that he must expect to give up a whole lot of things he'd like to do. and you'll find that i can stand it as well as the next feller." "p'raps when they know what happened, the committee'll be willing to give us a chance to make another try next week?" suggested jotham. "good boy, jotham, and a clever idea," cried fritz. somehow the suggestion seemed to give every one a sensation of relief. "i think myself that we'll be given another chance to show what we can do," was what paul remarked. "we can prove that we had the victory about as good as clinched when this unexpected thing came along. and i know mr. sargeant will be pleased to hear that we gave up our chances of winning that trophy because a sudden serious duty confronted us." "then we're going to start right away to try and find the middle of black water swamps--is that the idea, paul?" inquired seth. "that's what it amounts to, it looks like, to me," replied the scoutmaster, as he stood there in the open road, looking long and steadily at the very spot where they had seen the last of the dropping balloon; just as though he might be fixing the locality on his mind for future use. "do we all have to go, paul, or are you going to let several of us tramp along to beverly?" some one asked just then. "that depends on how you feel about it," was the answer the scoutmaster gave. "it won't do any good for a part of the patrol to arrive on time, because, you remember one of the rules of the game is that every member must fulfill the conditions, and make the full hundred miles hike. do you want to go to town, while the rest of us are searching the swamps for the aeronaut, eben?" "i should say not," hastily replied the bugler. "how about you, noodles?" continued paul. "nixey doing; me for der swamps, undt you can put dot in your pipe undt smoke idt," the one addressed replied, for there were times when the scouts, being off duty, could forget that paul was anything other than a chum. "well," the patrol leader went on to say, laughingly, "i'm not going to ask any other fellow, for i see by the looks on your faces that you'd take it as an insult. so, the next thing to settle is where we'd better strike into the place." seth came to the front again. "well, you see, i talked a lot with that feller that got lost in there; and he told a heap of interesting things about the blooming old swamp, also where he always started into the same when trapping. you see, somehow i got a hazy idea in this silly head of mine that some time or other i might want to get a couple of chums to go with me, and try and see what there was in the middle of the black water swamps." "that's good, seth," declared one of his mates, encouragingly. "the smartest thing you ever did, barring none," added jotham. "it's apt to be of more or less use to us right now, and that's a fact," was the way paul put it. "i reckon," andy remarked, looking thoughtfully at seth, "that you could tell right now whether we happened to be near that same place. it would be a great piece of good luck if we could run across the entrance, and the trail your trapper friend made, without going far away from here." "let's see," continued seth, screwing his forehead up into a series of funny wrinkles, as he usually did when trying to look serious or thoughtful, "he told me the path he used lay right under a big sycamore tree that must have been struck by a stray bolt of lightning, some time or other, for all the limbs on the north side had been shaven clean off." "well, i declare!" ejaculated jotham. "then you've noticed such a tree, have you?" asked paul, instantly, recognizing the symptoms, for he had long made a study of each and every scout in the troop, and knew their peculiarities. "look over yonder, will you?" demanded jotham, pointing. immediately various exclamations arose. "that's the same old blasted sycamore he told me about, sure as you're born," declared seth, with a wide grin of satisfaction. "the beaver patrol luck right in the start; didn't i say nothing could hold out against that?" remarked fritz. "come along, paul; let's be heading that way," suggested jotham. in fact, all the scouts seemed anxious to get busy. the first pang of regret over giving up their cherished plan had by this time worn away, and just like boys, they were now fairly wild to be doing the next best thing. they entered heart and soul into things as they came along, whether it happened to be a baseball match; a football scrimmage on the gridiron; the searching for a lost trail in the woods, or answering the call to dinner. and so the whole eight hurried along over the back road, meaning to branch off at the point nearest to the tall sycamore that had been visited by a freak bolt from the thunder clouds, during some storm in years gone by. paul was not joining in the chatter that kept pace with their movements. he realized that he had a serious proposition on his hands just then. if so experienced a man as that muskrat trapper could get lost in black water swamps and stay lost for two whole days, it behooved a party of boys, unfamiliar with such surroundings to be very careful in all they did. but paul had ever been known as a cautious fellow. he seldom acted from impulse except when it became actually necessary, in order to meet some sudden emergency; and then there were few who could do things more quickly than the patrol leader. in a case of this kind, the chances were that they must take unusual precaution against losing their bearings; that is, they must feel that they had a back trail to follow in case forward progress became impossible, or inexpedient. paul had his theory as to the best way to accomplish such a thing; and of course it had to do with "blazing" trees as they went along. in this fashion all chances of making mistakes would be obviated; and if they failed to effect the rescue of the man who had dropped in the heart of the dismal morass at least the eight boys need not share his sad fate. leaving the road they now headed straight for the sycamore that stood as a land mark, and a specimen of the freaks of lightning. no sooner had they reached it than paul's eyes were on the ground. the others heard him give a pleased exclamation, and then say: "it's all right, fellows; because here is a well beaten trail that seems to lead straight in to the place. and now, follow me in single file!" chapter xi the trail in the swamp when the eight scouts found that they were leaving solid ground, and actually getting to where little bogs surrounded them on almost every side, they had a queer feeling. up to now none of them had ever had much experience in passing through a real swamp, because there were no such places nearer to beverly than this one, and eighteen miles is quite too far for boys to walk on ordinary occasions, when seeking fun. they looked around time and again, though none of them dared loiter, and paul, as the leader, was setting a pretty good pace. just behind paul came seth. the scoutmaster had asked him to keep close at his heels, for since seth had acquired more or less of a fund of swamp lore from the man who trapped muskrats for their pelts, in the fall and winter, if any knotty problems came up to be solved the chances were seth would be of more use than any one of the other fellows. evidently they were in for some new and perhaps novel experiences. and there is nothing that pleases the average boy more than to look upon unfamiliar scenes, unless it is to run up against a bit of an adventure. one thing paul had made sure to fetch along with him when taking this big hike, and that was his little camp hatchet. fritz had begged to be allowed to carry his old marlin shotgun, under the plea that they might run across some ferocious animal like a wildcat, or a skunk, and would find a good use for the reliable firearm; but the scoutmaster had set his foot down firmly there. but they would have to make numerous fires while on the way, and a little hatchet was apt to come in very handy. and the feel of it in his belt had given paul his idea about "blazing" the trees just as soon as they no longer had the trapper's path to serve them as a guide against their return. it is a very easy thing to make a trail in this way; only care must always be taken to make the slices, showing the white wood underneath the bark, on that side of the tree most likely to be seen by the returning pilgrim. great loss of time must result if one always had to go behind every tree in order to find the blaze that had been so carefully given, not to mention the chances of becoming confused, and eventually completely turned around. that path twisted and turned in the most amazing and perplexing manner possible. although paul had purposely warned the boys to try and keep tabs of the points of the compass as they passed along, in less than ten minutes after striking the swamp proper it is doubtful whether one of them could have told correctly just where the north lay, if asked suddenly; though by figuring it out, looking at the sun, and all that, they might have replied with a certain amount of accuracy after a while. but then they felt sure paul knew; and somehow or other they had always been in the habit of relying on the scoutmaster to do some of their thinking for them--a bad habit it is, too, for any boys to let themselves fall into, and one that paul often took them to task for. they would cheerfully admit the folly of such a course, and promise to reform, yet on the next occasion it would be the same old story of depending on paul. "path seems to be petering out a heap, paul," remarked seth, when another little time had crept along, and they had penetrated still deeper into the swamp, with a very desolate scene all around them, water surrounding many of the trees that grew there with swollen boles, such as always seems to be the case where they exist in swampy regions. "yes, i was thinking that myself," replied the other; "and it's about time for me to begin using my little hatchet, even if i don't happen to be george washington." "let's stop for a breath, and listen," suggested eben; "who knows now but what we might be nearer where the balloon dropped than we thought. p'raps we could even get an answer if we whooped her up a bit." "how about that, paul?" demanded fritz, who could shout louder perhaps than any other boy in beverly, and often led the hosts as a cheer captain, when exciting games were on with other school teams. "not a bad idea, i should say," was the reply, as the patrol leader nodded his head in approval. "suppose you lead off, fritz, and let it be a concerted yell." accordingly fritz marshaled them all in a line, and gave the word. such an outbreak as followed awoke the sleeping echoes in the swamp, and sent a number of startled birds flying madly away. indeed, jotham noticed a rabbit bounding off among the hummocks of higher ground; and noodles afterwards declared that he had seen the "cutest little pussycat" ambling away; though the others vowed it must have been a skunk, and gave noodles fair warning that if ever he tried to catch such a cunning "pussycat" he would be buried up to the neck until his clothes were fumigated. "don't hear any answer, do you, fellers?" remarked seth, after the echoes had finally died away again. everybody admitted that there seemed to have been no reply to the shout they had sent booming along. "hope we didn't scare him by making such a blooming row," seth went on to say. "i'm bothered more by thinking that he may have been killed, or very badly hurt when the balloon fell down," paul ventured to say. the thought made them all serious again. in imagination they pictured that valiant fellow who had taken his life in his hands in the interest of sport, possibly lying there on the ground senseless, or buried in the slimy mud, which could be seen in so many places all around them. and it was far from a pleasing prospect that confronted those eight scouts, though none of them gave any sign of wanting to back out. "mebbe a blast from my horn would reach him?" suggested eben. "suppose you try it, eh? paul?" fritz remarked. "no harm can come of it, so pitch in eben," the other told the troop bugler. "and put in all the wind you c'n scrape together," added seth. accordingly eben blew a blast that could have been heard fully a mile away. he grew red in the face as he sent out his call; and doubtless such a sweet medley of sounds had never before been heard in that desolate looking place since the time of the ice period. "no use; he don't answer; or if he does, we don't get it," seth observed, in a disappointed tone. "then the only thing for us to do is to go ahead," andy proposed. "paul's getting his bearings again," remarked eben. "i wanted to make dead sure," the scoutmaster observed, with a glow of determination in his eyes. "you see, we tried to note just about where the balloon seemed to fall; and it takes a lot of figuring to keep that spot in your mind all the while you're turning and twisting along this queer trail. but i feel pretty sure of my ground." "huh! wish i did the same," said seth, holding up one of his feet, and showing that he had been in black mud half way to his knee, when he made some sort of bad guess about the footing under him. apparently paul was now ready to once more start out. but they saw him give a quick hack at a tree, and upon looking as they passed they discovered that he had taken quite a slice off the bark, leaving a white space as big as his two hands, and which could easily be seen at some distance off in the direction whither they were bound. that was called a "blaze." if seth thought he was having his troubles, they were slight compared with those that attacked one other member of the little band of would-be rescuers. noodles, besides being a good-natured chap, was more or less awkward. being so very stout had more or less to do with this; and besides, he had a habit of just ambling along in any sort of happy-go-lucky way. now, while this might not be so very bad under ordinary conditions, when there was a decent and level road to be traveled over, it brought about all sorts of unexpected and unwelcome difficulties when they were trying to keep to a narrow and crooked path. twice already had noodles made a slip, and gone in knee-deep, to be dragged out by some of his comrades. and he was glancing around at the gloomy aspect with a look approaching _fear_ in his eyes, just as though he began to think that they were invading a haunted region where respectable scouts had no business to go, even on an errand of mercy. such was the wrought-up condition of his nerves, that when a branch which some one had held back, and then let slip, came in contact with the shins of noodles, he gave out a screech, and began dancing around like mad. "snakes! and as big as your wrist too! i saw 'em!" he called out, forgetting to talk in his usual broken english way, because of his excitement. they had some difficulty in convincing him that it was only a branch that had caressed his ankle, and not a venomous serpent; for noodles confessed that if he dreaded anything on the face of the earth it was just snakes, any kind of crawling varmints, from the common everyday garter species to the big boa constrictor to be seen in the menagerie that came with the annual circus visiting beverly. again and again was paul making good use of his handy little camp hatchet, and seth took note of the manner in which the blazed trail was thus fashioned. it may be all very fine to do things in theory, but there is nothing like a little practical demonstration. and in all likelihood not one of these seven boys but would be fully able to make just such a plain trail, should the necessity ever arise. when one has _seen_ a thing done he can easily remember the manner of doing it; but it is so easy to get directions confused, and make blunders. paul was not hurrying now. a mistake would be apt to cost them dear, and he believed that an ounce of prevention is always better than a pound of cure. if they could avoid going wrong, it did not matter a great deal that they made slow progress. "be sure you're right and then go ahead" was the motto of the famous frontiersman, davy crockett, and paul had long ago taken it as his pattern too. besides, it paid, for any one could see that they were steadily getting in deeper and deeper. the swamp was becoming much wilder now; and it was not hard to realize that a man getting lost here, and losing his head, might, after his bearings were gone, go wandering at haphazard for days, possibly crossing his own trail more than a few times. it seemed a lonesome place. animals they saw none. perhaps there might be deer in the outer portions, but they never came in here. although the scouts saw no evidences that wild-cats lived in the swamp, they could easily picture some such fierce animal crouching in this clump of matted trees or back of that heavy bush, watching their passage with fiery eyes. the scouts found their long staves of considerable use from time to time. had noodles for instance been more adept in the use of the one he carried he might have been saved from a whole lot of trouble. perhaps this might prove to be a valuable lesson to the boy. he could not help but see how smartly the others kept themselves from slipping off the narrow ridge of ground by planting their staves against some convenient stump, or the butt of a tree, anywhere but in the oozy mud. "wait up for me!" noodles would call out every little while, when he fell behind, for he seemed to have a horror lest he might slip into that horrible bed of mud, and be sucked down before his chums could reach him. "it iss nodt fair to leave me so far behindt der rest. how wouldt you feel if you rescued der argonaut, and lose your chump; dell me dot? give eferypody a chance, and--mine gootness, i mighty near proke my pack dot time," for he had come down with a tremendous thump, when his feet slipped out from under him. but as a rule boys are not apt to give a clumsy comrade much sympathy, and hence only rude laughter greeted this fresh mishap on the part of noodles. "nature looked out for you when she saw what an awkward chap you were going to be, noodles," called back fritz. "you're safely padded all right, and don't need to feel worried when you sit down, sudden-like. if it was me, now, there might be some talking, because i'm built more on the jack-knife plan." "oh! what is that?" cried eben, as a strange, blood-curdling sound came from a point ahead of them; just as though some unlucky fellow was being sucked down in the embrace of that slimy mud, and was giving his last shriek for help. as the other scouts had of course heard the same thing, all of the detachment came to a sudden halt, and looking rather apprehensively at one another, they waited to learn if the weird gurgling sound would be repeated, but all was deathly still. chapter xii where no foot has ever trod "now whatever do you suppose made that racket?" demanded seth. "sounded just like a feller getting drowned, and with his mouth half full of water. but i don't believe it could have been a human being, do you, paul?" and eben turned to the one in command of the troop. "no, i don't," returned the scoutmaster, promptly. "more than likely it was some sort of a bird." "a bird make a screechy sound like that?" echoed the doubting eben. "some sort of heron or crane. they make queer noises when they fight, or carry on in a sort of dance. i've read lots of things about cranes that are hard to believe, yet the naturalists stand for the truth of the accounts." paul started off again, as though not dismayed in the slightest by the strange squawk, half human in its way. and his example spurred the others on to follow in his wake, so that once more they were making steady progress. "i wouldn't care so much," grumbled fritz, as he trailed along, "if only i had a gun along. but it's tough luck to be smooching through a place like this, where a sly old cat may be watching you from the branch overhead, and your trusty marlin hanging on the nails at home." "they say you always see plenty of game when you haven't got a gun; and so i guess we'll run across all sorts of things, from bobcats to alligators!" paul went on to remark, whimsically, but there was one scout who chose to take his words seriously, and this was noodles. "what's that about alligators?" he called out from his place at the rear of the little procession. "blease don't dell me now as we shall some reptiles meet up mit pefore we finish dis exblorations. if dere iss one thing i don't like, worser as snakes, dose pe alligators. i would go across der street to avoid dem. you moost some fun pe making when you say dot, paul?" "sure i am, noodles," replied the scoutmaster quickly, "because there are no alligators or crocodiles native to the state of indiana. i believe they have a few lobsters over in indianapolis, but they don't count. but the chances are we will run across some queer things before we get out of this place." "what gets me," remarked jotham, "is the way the thing came on us. why, we'd just about said that we'd like to explore the old swamp, from curiosity if nothing else, when that balloon hove in sight, and settled down where we'd have to push right into the center of the place to find the man who was hanging to the wreck." "well, we had our wish answered on the spot, didn't we?" questioned the patrol leader, "and it came in such a way that we couldn't well back out. so here we are, up to our necks in business." "i only hopes as how we won't pe up to our necks in somedings else pefore long," came a whine from the rear, that made more than one fellow chuckle. a number of times paul stopped, for one reason or another. now it was some little imprint of animal feet that had attracted his attention in the harder mud at the side of the narrow ridge he was following; then again he wanted to listen, and renew his observations. seth was watching him closely. somehow he was reminded of that grizzled old carpenter whom he had observed, when the addition was being put to their house, and who, after measuring a board three blessed times, and picking up his saw, made ready to cut it in twain, when, possessed of an idea that he must not make a miscalculation, laid down his saw, and went to work to measure it for the fourth time! paul was not quite so bad as all that, but he did like to make sure he was right before taking a step that could not be recovered, once it was gone. "there's one thing sure," seth could not help remarking, after he had watched paul for some time, and noted how confident the other seemed with every forward step that was taken. "what might that be, seth?" demanded babe adams, when the other paused. "if that feller i talked with, the one that hunts muskrats around here in the season, had been just half as smart as paul, he never would a lost hisself in the swamps, and come near starving to death." "so say we all of us!" added jotham. "that's as neat a compliment as i ever had paid me, boys; though i hardly think i deserve it, yet. wait and see if we get lost, or not. the proof of the pudding's in the eating of it, you know. talk is cheap and butters no parsnips, they say. i like to _do_ things. but honestly speaking, i believe we're getting through this place pretty smartly." "but she keeps agettin' darker right along, paul?" complained noodles, taking advantage of a brief halt to pick up a stick and start to wiping the dark ooze from the bottom of his trousers. "that only means we're pushing steadily in toward the center; and i'm beginning to lose my fear about getting there. perhaps, after all, it may be an easy thing to put our feet where those of no other white man has ever trod." paul spoke with an assurance that carried the rest along with him. that had ever been one of his strongest points at school in the leadership of the class athletic and outdoor sports team. it was getting more and more difficult for several of the scouts to follow their leader. the narrow ledge had been bad enough, but when it came to passing along slippery logs, with the water all around, and a bath sure to follow the slightest mishap, eben's nerve gave way. "if it's going to keep up like this, paul, you'll have to drop me out, because i just can't do it, and that's a fact!" he wailed, as he clung with both hands and knees to an unusually slippery place, having lost his stick in making a miscalculation when trying to brace himself. one of the other fellows recovered the staff, and then eben was assisted across. paul had been expecting something like this, and was not very much surprised. he felt pretty sure there was another who would welcome an order to stay there on that little patch of firm ground, and wait for the return of the rest. "well, i was just thinking of leaving a rear guard, to protect our line of communications," he proceeded to say, gravely, but with a wink toward seth and fritz, "and as it will be necessary for two to fill the position, i appoint seth and noodles to the honorable post. you will take up your position here, and if anybody tries to pass you by without giving the proper countersign, arrest him on the spot." "which spot, paul?" asked noodles, solemnly. "well, it doesn't matter, so long as you stay here and guard our line of retreat. and boys, keep your eyes on the watch for signals. perhaps we may have to talk with you by smoke signs. so you can amuse yourselves by picking up some wood, and getting ready to start a smoky fire, only don't put a match to it unless we call you." "all right, paul," returned eben, taking it all in deadly earnest, although the other fellows were secretly chuckling among themselves. "and then again, i've got my bully old bugle, in case i want to give you a call. don't worry about noodles; i'll be here to look after him." "the blind leading the blind," muttered seth as he turned his face away. "there, you see now," broke in fritz, "if we only had my gun along, eben here could be a real sentry, and hold a feller up in the right way. watch this second slippery log here, boys. you c'n easy enough push anybody into the slush if he gets gay, and refuses to give the password." then he in turn also followed after paul, leaving the bugler and noodles there, congratulating themselves that they could be doing their full duty by the enterprise without taking any more desperate risks. and then when the six scouts had gone about fifty feet eben was heard wildly shouting after them. "paul, o! paul!" he was bellowing at the top of his voice. "well, what is it?" asked the scoutmaster. "you forgot something," came the answer. "what?" "you didn't give us the password, you know; and how c'n we tell whether any fellers has it right, when we don't even know." paul just turned and walked on, laughing to himself; and those who followed in his footsteps were shaking with inward amusement. either eben had taken the bait, and gorged the hook, or else he was having a little fun with them, no one knew which. however, all of them soon realized that paul had done a clever thing when he thus coaxed the two clumsy members of the patrol to drop out of line, and allow those better fitted for coping with the difficulties of the slippery path to go forward; because it steadily grew worse instead of better, and neither eben nor noodles could have long continued. why, even fritz began to feel timid about pursuing such a treacherous course, and presently he sought information. "don't you think we must be nearly in the heart of the old bog, paul? seems to me we've come a long ways, and when you think that we've got to go back over the same nasty track again, perhaps carrying a wounded man, whew! however we are going to do it, beats me." paul stopped long enough to give a tree a couple of quick upward and downward strokes with that handy little tool of his, and then glance at the resulting gash, as though he wanted to make sure that it could be seen a decent distance off. "well, that's a pretty hard question to answer," he replied, slowly. "in the first place, we don't know whether the man fell into the heart of the black water, or over by the other side. fact is, we haven't come on anything up to now to settle the matter whether he fell at all." "great governor! that _would_ be a joke on us now, wouldn't it, if we made our way all over this beastly place, when there wasn't any aeronaut to help? we'd feel like a bunch of sillies, that's right!" burst out fritz. "but we acted in good faith," paul went on to say, positively. "we weighed the matter, and arrived at the conclusion that he had fallen somewhere in here; and we agreed, _all of us_, mind you, fritz, that it was our duty to make a hunt for mr. anderson. and we're here on the ground, doing our level best." "ain't got another word to say, paul," fritz observed, hastily, "you know best; only i sure hope it don't get any worse than we find it right now. i never did like soft slimy mud. nearly got smothered in it once, when i was only a kid, and somehow it seems to give me the creeps every time i duck my leg in. but go right along; only if you hear me sing out, stop long enough to give me a pull." "we're all bound to help each other, don't forget that, fritz," said seth. "it might just as well be me that'll take a slide, and go squash into that awful mess on the right, or on the left. don't know whether to swim, or wade, if that happens; but see there, you can't find any bottom to the stuff." he thrust his long alpine staff into the mire as far as it could go; and the other scouts shuddered when they saw that so far as appearances went, the soft muck bed really had no bottom. any one so unfortunate as to fall in would surely gradually sink far over his head, unless he were rescued in time, or else had the smartness to effect his own release by seizing hold of a low-hanging branch and gradually drawing his limbs out of the clinging stuff. then they all looked ahead, as though wondering what the prospect might be for a continuance of this perilous trip which had broken up their great hike. "i guess it's about time to make another try with a shout or so, fritz," said paul, instead of giving the order for an advance. "all right, just as you say," returned the other, "we've come quite some distance since we made the last big noise; and if he's weak and wounded, yet able to answer at all, p'raps we might hear him this time. line up here, fellers, and watch my hands now, so's all to break loose together." it was a tremendous volume of sound that welled forth, as fritz waved his hands upward after a fashion that every high school fellow understood; why, seth declared that it could have been heard a mile or more away, and from that part of the swamp half way out in either direction. then they strained their ears to listen for any possible answer. the seconds began to creep past, and disappointment had already commenced to grip hold of their hearts when they started, and looked quickly, eagerly, at one another. "did you hear it?" asked fritz, gasping for breath after his exertions at holding on to that long-drawn school yell. "we sure did--something!" replied jotham, instantly, "but whether that was the balloonist answering, eben or noodles calling out to us, or some wild animal giving tongue, blest if i know." and then, why, of course five pair of eyes were turned on paul for the answer. chapter xiii the oasis in the swamp "was that another fish-eating bird like a crane, paul?" asked seth. "sounded more like a human voice," jotham put in. "and that's what it was, or else we're all pretty much mistaken," was the verdict of the scoutmaster. they turned their eyes toward the quarter from whence the sound had appeared to come; and while some thought it had welled up just in a line with this bunch of bushes, or it might be a leaning tree, still others believed it had come straight up against the breeze. although there might be a few points difference in their guesses, still it was noticeable that on the whole they were pretty uniform, and pointed almost due east from the spot where they stood. "how about the prospect of getting through there?" queried jotham, anxiously. "huh! couldn't be tougher, in my opinion," grumbled seth. "but if you look far enough, boys," remarked paul, "you can see that there seems to be some firmer ground over there." "well, now, you're right about that, paul," interjected fritz, "i was just going to say the same myself. made me think of what an oasis in a desert might look like, though to be sure i never saw one in my life." "solid ground, you mean, eh?" said babe adams, gleefully, "maybe, now, we won't be just tickled to death to feel the same under our trilbies again. this thing of picking your way along a slippery ledge about three inches wide, makes me feel like i'm walking on eggs all the while. once you lose your grip, and souse you go up to your knees, or p'raps your neck, in the nasty dip. solid ground will feel mighty welcome to me." "do we make a bee line for that quarter, paul?" asked andy. "i'd like to see you try it, that's what," jeered seth. "in three shakes of a lamb's tail you'd be swimming in the mud. guess we have to follow one of these crazy little hummocks that run criss-cross through the place, eh, frank?" "yes, you're right about that, seth; but i'm glad to say i think one runs over toward that spot; anyway, here goes to find out." the young scoutmaster made a start while speaking, and the balance of the boys lined out after him. "keep close together, so as to help each other if any trouble comes," was what paul called out over his shoulder. "yes, and for goodness sake don't all get in at once, or we'll be drowned. think what an awful time there'd be in old beverly, if six of her shining lights went and got snuffed out all at once. hey, quit your pushin' there, jotham, you nearly had me overboard that time." "well, i just _had_ to grab something, because one of my legs was in up to the knee. oh! dear, what a fine time we'll have getting all this mud off us," jotham complained, from just behind. but they were making pretty fair progress, all the same; and whenever any of the boys could venture to take their eyes off the faintly marked path they were following, long enough to send a quick look ahead, they saw that the anticipated haven of temporary refuge loomed up closer all the time. at least this was encouraging, and it served to put fresh zeal in those who had begun to almost despair of ever getting across the acre of mud that lay between the spot where they had last shouted, and the promised land. they were a cheery lot, taken as a whole; and what was even better, they believed in passing their enthusiasm along. so one, and then another, called out some encouraging words as the humor seized them. foot by foot, and yard by yard they moved along, paul always cautious about venturing upon unknown ground; but finding a way to gain his end. "here's a little patch of solid ground, and we can rest up for a minute or so," was the welcome announcement that came along the line of toiling scouts, and of course brought out various exclamations of delight. it was indeed a great relief to be able to actually stand upright once more, so as to stretch the cramped muscles in their legs. some of the boys even started to dancing, though seth scorned to do anything like this, and pretended to make all manner of fun of their contortions. "talk about them cranes doing funny stunts when they get together and dance," he remarked, "i guess, now, they haven't got anything on you fellers. why, if anybody happened to see you carryin' on that way he'd sure believe the whole bunch had broke loose from some lunatic asylum. when i dance i like to have some style about it, and not just hop around any old way." so seth took it out in stretching his arms, and rubbing the tired muscles of his legs. it was jotham who made a discovery. in jumping around he had by chance wandered a dozen yards away from the rest, when he was heard to give vent to a cry; and the other boys saw him dart forward, as if to pick something up from the ground. "what is it, jotham?" several cried in an eager chorus; for their nerves had been wrought up to a high tension by all they had gone through, and they felt, as seth aptly expressed it, "like fiddle strings keyed to next door to the snapping point." for answer jotham turned and came toward the rest. he was carrying some object in his hand, and seemed to regard it with considerable interest, as though he felt that he had made an important discovery. as he reached the others he held it up before the scoutmaster; and of course all could see what it was. "a piece of old yellow cloth!" exclaimed seth, in disgust, "say, you made all of us believe that you'd run across something worth while." "how about it, paul?" appealed jotham, turning to the one whom he fancied would be more apt to understand, "don't this tell a story; and ain't it a pretty good clue to run across?" "i should say, yes," replied paul, as he took the article in question in his own hands, and felt of it eagerly, "because, you see, seth, this is really silk, the queer kind they always make balloons out of. and that ought to tell us we're on the right track. so you see it was an important pick-up, and ought to count one point for jotham." "gee whittaker! you don't say?" ejaculated seth, staring with considerable more respect at the foot of dingy yellow stuff which the scoutmaster was holding in his hands. "well, if that's so, then i pass along the honors to jotham. but if a piece of the bally old balloon fell right here, paul, don't that tell us the wreck must a passed over where we're standing now?" "not the least doubt about that," asserted the confident paul, "and i was just looking up to see if i could make out the course it took. because it must have struck the top of a tree, to tear this piece loose." "how about that one over yonder?" suggested fritz, pointing as he spoke. "looks to me like the top was broke some, and i just bet you now that's where the big gas-bag did strike first, when it started to drop in a hurry." "then following the course of the wind, which hasn't changed this last hour, it would be carried on straight east," paul continued, logically. "sure thing," declared seth, "and if you look close now, you'll glimpse where it struck that smaller bunch of trees just ahead, where we're going to land soon. and paul, hadn't we better be trying our luck some more now? guess all the boys must be rested, and if we've just _got_ to do the grand wading act, the sooner we get started the better." "first let's call out again, and see if we get any answer. it would cheer the poor fellow up some, if he happens to be lying there badly hurt; and if he does answer, we'll get our bearings better. hit it up, fritz!" they always turned to fritz when they wanted volume of sound. that appeared to be his specialty, the one thing in which he certainly excelled. of course there was little need of any great noise, now that they had reason to believe the object of their solicitude must be close at hand; but then boys generally have plenty of spare enthusiasm, and when fritz gave the required signal they let out a roar, as usual. "there, that was certainly an answering call!" declared jotham, proudly. "sounded like he said just two words--'help--hurry!'" spoke up babe. somehow the rest seemed to be of about the same opinion, and the thought gave the scouts a strange thrill. was the unfortunate aeronaut slowly bleeding to death, lying there amidst the bushes on that tongue of land? they had given up their dearly cherished plan in order to rescue him, and had undergone considerable in the line of strenuous work, so as to arrive in time, and now that they were so close to the scene of his disaster it would be too bad if they were held back until it was too late to do him any good. "can't we hit it up a little faster, paul?" begged andy, who was rather inclined to be impulsive, because of the warm southern blood that flowed in his veins. they had once more started on, and were really making pretty good progress; but when one gives way to impatience, it may seem that a fair amount of speed is next door to standing still. paul understood the generous impulse that caused the kentucky boy to speak in this strain and while he knew that it was dangerous to attempt any swifter pace than they were then making, still, for once, he bowed to the will of the majority, and began to increase his speed. all went well, for beyond a few minor mishaps they managed to get along. what if one of the scouts did occasionally slip off the wretched footing, and splash into the mud; a helping hand was always ready to do the needful, and the delay could hardly be noticed. "there's the beginning of the firm ground just ahead!" paul presently remarked, thinking to cheer his comrades with the good news. "oh! joy!" breathed jotham, who often used queer expressions, that is, rather odd to hear from a boy. seth was the more natural one of the two when he gave vent to his delight by using the one expressive word: "bully!" in a couple of minutes at this rate they would have reached the place where the slippery trail merged into the more solid ground. perhaps some of the others may not as yet have noticed strange sounds welling up out of the bushes beyond, but paul certainly did, and he was greatly puzzled to account for the same. that singular growling could not be the wind passing through the upper branches of the trees, for one thing. it seemed to paul more like the snarling of an angry domestic cat, several times magnified. for the life of him he could not imagine what a cat would be doing here in the heart of the dreaded black water swamps. surely no hermit could be living in such a dismal and inaccessible place; even a crazy man would never dream of passing over such a terribly slippery ledge in order to get to and from his lonely habitation. but if not a cat, what was making that angry snarling? paul knew next to nothing about balloons, but he felt pretty sure that even the escaping of gas could hardly produce such a sound--it might pass through a rent in the silk with a sharp hiss, but he could plainly catch something more than that. and then his foot struck solid ground; with a sigh of relief he drew himself up, and turned to give a hand to seth, next in line, if it was needed. so they all came ashore, so to speak, and delighted to feel able to stand in a comfortable position once more. no time now for stretching or dancing, with that ugly snarling growing constantly deeper, and more angry in volume. forward was the word, and paul somehow felt glad that they gripped those handy staves, tried and true, with which every scout in course of time becomes quite adept. they would come in good play should there be any necessity for prompt action. "follow me, everybody," said paul, as he started off. "count on us to back you up!" seth declared, from which remark the scoutmaster understood that by now the others must have caught those suspicious sounds, and were trying to figure out what they stood for. it seemed as if with every forward step he took, paul could catch them more and more plainly. nor was the snarling sound alone; now he believed he caught a rustling of dead leaves, and something that might be likened to low muttered words, as though the speaker were being hard pressed, and had little breath to spare. then, as he pushed through the last fringe of bushes that interfered with his view, paul found himself looking upon the cause of all these queer noises. chapter xiv just in the nick of time "holy smoke! look at that, would you?" exclaimed seth, who had been so close on the heels of the scoutmaster that he sighted the struggling objects ahead almost as soon as paul did himself. "it's a big wildcat!" echoed jotham, with a suspicious tremor in his voice. indeed, the animal in question was a sight well calculated to give any one more or less reason to feel a touch of alarm. evidently she must be a mother cat, for a couple of partly grown kittens stood there in plain sight, with every hair on their short backs erected, and their whole appearance indicating that they were "chips off the old block," as seth afterwards declared. the wounded aeronaut sat there with a stick in his grasp. this he was wielding as best he could, to keep the angry animal at a distance, although his efforts were growing pitifully weaker, and only for the coming of the scouts he must have been compelled to throw up the sponge in a short time. evidently the wildcat had come upon him there after he had been dropped amidst the wreckage of his balloon. whether it was her natural hatred for mankind that tempted the savage beast to attack the balloonist, or the scent of fresh blood from some of his scratches, it would be hard to say, possibly both reasons had to do with her action. just how long the scrimmage had been going on paul could only guess; but he did know that the beast must have ripped the clothes partly off the aeronaut's back, and in turn he could see that one of the animal's eyes was partly closed, from a vigorous whack which the desperate man had given with his cudgel, no doubt. paul instantly made straight for the scene of commotion, never so much as hesitating a second. this was one of those emergencies spoken of before now, when the scoutmaster did not allow himself to pause and consider, but acted from impulse only. the man saw him coming, and gave expression to his satisfaction in a weak hurrah. as for the cat, at first it seemed ready to try conclusions with the whole troop of boy scouts, for it turned on paul with the ugliest glare in its yellow eyes he had ever seen. every fellow was shouting vigorously by now, and the volume of sound must have had more or less to do with settling the question. besides, the pair of kittens seemed to have been frightened off with the coming of the scouts, having slid into the friendly bushes. so the mother cat decided that after all she could yield gracefully to superior numbers--seven to one was pretty heavy odds, and those waving staves had an ugly look she did not exactly fancy. but all the same there was nothing inglorious in her retreat; she retired in perfect good order, keeping her face to the foe, and continuing to spit and snarl and growl so long as she remained in sight. several of the scouts were for following her up, and forcing the issue; but a word from paul restrained them. he saw that the animal was furiously angry, and if hard pushed would undoubtedly make things extremely interesting for any number of fellows; flying into their midst, so that they could not well use their sticks, and using her sharp claws to make criss-cross maps across their faces. scratches from the claws of all carnivorous animals are dangerous. blood poisoning is apt to set in, because of the fact that their claws are contaminated from the flesh of such birds or small game as have served them for a previous meal. and just then paul had nothing along with him to prevent the possibility of such a dreadful happening taking place. seth in particular was exceedingly loth to give over. he looked after the vanishing wild cat, and shook his head in bitter disappointment. only for his pride in obeying all orders that came to him from the scoutmaster, seth very likely would have followed the cat, and probably rued his rashness when he had to call for help a minute or so later. meanwhile paul had hurried to the side of the aeronaut, who raised his hand in greeting, while a smile broke over his anxious face. "welcome, my brave boys!" he exclaimed. "i never dreamed that you could ever get to me here, when i saw what a horrible sort of bog i had dropped into. and then, after that savage beast set on me i about gave myself up as lost. she kept walking around me, and growling for a long time before she made a jump. oh! it was a nightmare of a time, i assure you. i've seen some scrapes before in my ballooning experiences, but never one the equal of this. i'm mighty glad to meet you all. but i'll never understand how you found me. after this i'll believe boy scouts can do about anything there is going." well, that was praise enough to make every fellow glow with satisfaction, and feel glad to know he wore the khaki that had won the sincere respect of this daring voyager of the skies. "i hope you're not very badly hurt, mr. anderson?" paul ventured, as he knelt at the side of the other. "i don't believe it's serious, but all the same i'm pretty much crippled after all i've gone through with on this ill-fated trip. but i'm willing to exert myself to the limit in order to get out of this terrible swamp. you can't make a start any too soon to please me." paul drew a long breath. if it had been so difficult for active boys, used to balancing, and doing all sorts of stunts, to cross on those treacherous little hummock paths, how in the wide world were they ever going to get a wounded man out of this place? he only hoped mr. anderson would prove to be the possessor of tenacious will power, as well as a reserve fund of strength; he would certainly have good need of both before he struck solid ground again, once the return journey was begun. "well, while my chums are getting their breath after our little jaunt, suppose you let me look at any cuts you've got, mr. anderson," he suggested, first of all, in a business-like way that quite charmed the aeronaut. "what, you don't mean to tell me that you are something of a doctor as well as a leader of scouts?" he remarked, with evident pleasure, as he started to roll up one of the legs of his trousers, so as to expose his bruised ankle. "i know just a little about medicine, enough to make the other fellows want me to take charge whenever they get hurt. let me introduce my friends, sir." and accordingly paul mentioned his own name, and then in turn that of andy, babe, jotham, seth and fritz; also stating that there were two more in the patrol whom they had left stranded about half way out of the swamp, to be picked up again on the return journey. the pleased aeronaut shook hands heartily with each boy. he was experiencing a delightful revulsion of feeling, for all of a sudden the darkness had given way to broad daylight. paul on his part, after a superficial examination, was glad to find there was really nothing serious the matter. he had feared lest he might find a broken leg or even a few ribs fractured; but nothing of the kind seemed to be the case. it was true that mr. anderson had a lot of black and blue places upon his person, and would doubtless feel pretty sore for some days to come, but really paul could not see why he should not be able to keep company with his rescuers. he seemed to possess an uncommon share of grit; his determined defense against the savage wildcat proved that plainly enough; and on the whole, with what help the scouts might give on occasion, there was a fair chance of his getting out of the swamp inside of an hour or so. "now i'm ready to make a start, if you say the word," paul observed, when perhaps five minutes had passed. the gentleman had been helped to his feet. trying the injured leg, he declared he believed he would be able to get along; even though he did make a wry face at the very moment of saying this. paul endeavored to explain to him what sort of work lay before them, passing along on such insecure footing. "well, i must get in touch with a doctor, and that as speedily as possible," remarked mr. anderson, "and i'll get out of this horrible place if i have to crawl every foot of the way on my hands and knees. but i don't imagine it's going to come to such a pass as that, yet awhile. i'm ready to take my first lesson, paul, if so be you lead the way." already the aeronaut seemed to have taken a great fancy for the young scoutmaster; but then that was only what might be expected. paul had led the relief expedition; and besides, there was something attractive about the boy that always drew people to him. "then please follow directly after me; and seth, you fall in behind mr. anderson, will you?" paul went on to say. "huh! hope you don't mean that the way you say it," grunted seth, with a wide grin, "because, seems to me i've done nothing else but _fall in_ ever since i got on the go. i've investigated nearly every bog along the line, and found 'em all pretty much alike, and not to my likin' one single bit." but all the same, seth felt proud of the fact that the scoutmaster had selected him for the post of honor; for he knew that, coming just behind the wounded balloonist, he would be expected to lend a helping hand at such times as mr. anderson experienced a slip. just the consciousness of responsibility was apt to make seth much more sure-footed than before. it is always so; and wise teachers watch their chances to make boys feel that they are of some consequence. besides, experiences goes a great way and seth, having tested nearly all the muddy stretches along the way, had in a measure learned how to avoid contact with them again. in another minute the boys and mr. anderson were on the move. no doubt, if that savage mother cat and her charges were secretly watching from a leafy covert near by, they must have been heartily gratified because the menacing enemy had seen fit to quit the oasis in the swamp, leaving the remnants of the wrecked balloon to be pawed over by the frolicsome kittens. "i see that you are true scouts, for you have blazed the way as prettily as i ever saw it done, mr. anderson remarked presently. "that was paul's doing," spoke up seth, not in the least jealous. "oh! it's the easiest thing to do that anybody ever tried," declared the scoutmaster without even looking back over his shoulder, for he needed his eyes in front constantly. "so i understand," continued mr. anderson, "but then, it isn't everybody who can be smart enough to do the right thing at the right time." "how do you make out, sir?" asked paul, wishing to change the conversation, for, strange to say, he never liked to hear himself praised, in which he differed very much from the vast majority of boys. "getting along better than i expected, paul," replied the wounded balloonist. "it's only a question of time, then, before we pass out of the swamp," the other went on to say. "and as we've got our trail all laid out, and seth knows the best places to try the mud, i guess we'll make it." he was already thinking deeply and seriously. a sudden wild hope had flashed into paul's brain, and if all went well he meant to put it up to the other scouts after a while. when he looked at his watch he found that it was now just a quarter after ten; and doing some lightning calculating he believed they could be out of the morass, discounting any serious trouble, by another hour. then, supposing it took them forty-five minutes to get mr. anderson to the nearest farm house, even though they had to make a rude stretcher, and carry him, that brought the time to exactly noon. could they really do it, make the eighteen miles that still lay between themselves and the field at beverly, where they were expected to show up some time that day, if they hoped to win the prize? some how the very possibility of being put upon his mettle gave paul a thrill. he had no doubts concerning his own ability to finish the great hike within the specified space of time, before the sun had vanished behind the western horizon, but it was a grave question whether some of the other scouts could accomplish the task. there was eben for instance, never a wonder when it came to running; and then fat noodles would be apt to give out before two-thirds of those eighteen miles had been placed behind them. but if there was a ghost of a chance paul was determined to take advantage of it, and he believed that even the laggards would be keen to make the attempt, once he mentioned the subject to them. and so they kept pushing steadily along, mr. anderson showing wonderful pluck, considering the pain he must be suffering all the while from his numerous bruises and cuts. chapter xv on the home-stretch perhaps they were becoming experts at the game; or it might be that the going back over familiar ground made the job easier, since they could see each slippery place where an accident had happened on the outward trip, and thus grow additionally cautious. be that as it might, they made very few missteps on the return journey. even mr. anderson managed to do himself great credit, and seth did not have to help him up on the narrow ridge more than three or four times; nor were any of his mishaps of a serious nature. in due time, therefore, they came in sight of the place where eben and noodles had been left. their voices must have warned the pair that they were coming, for they could be seen shading their eyes with their hands to shut out the glare of the sun, as they watched the string of figures slowly picking a path through the sea of mud and water. apparently they must have counted an extra form among the muddy group; and just had to give expression to their satisfaction; for noodles yelped excitedly, while eben sent out a series of blasts from his bugle, which, upon examination, seemed to bear some faint earmarks to "lo, the conquering hero comes!" and when they landed at this half-way stage in their tiresome journey, mr. anderson had to be introduced to the remaining members of the beaver patrol. he also insisted on shaking hands with them, as he had done all the others, and letting them know his now exalted opinion about the ability of boy scouts to do wonders, all of which was sweetest music in the ears of the pair who had been cheated out of their share of the honors in the actual rescue party. when the march was resumed--and paul hastened matters as much as he could in reason--noodles and eben insisted on asking many questions as to just how they had found the balloonist. they grew quite excited when they heard about the mother wildcat and her savage little kittens; and even indulged in speculations as to what a great time they would have had defending themselves, had a trio like that paid them a visit. oh! it was certainly wearisome work, keeping up that strained position of the leg muscles so long. paul began to fear that they would never be able to accomplish the other task beyond, for he heard noodles take his regular plunges every little while, and judged that the stout boy must by this time be a sight calculated to make his mother shed tears, if ever she saw him in such a state. but all things must come to an end, and finally seth gave a shout, like unto the glad whoop a wrecked mariner might set up at sight of land ahead. "there's the place where we started in, paul; yes, and i can see that queer tree at the spot the trapper's path ended, and the fun began!" he exclaimed. "bless you, seth, for those comforting words!" called out eben from close to the rear of the procession. "one last little bulge, and then victory for us!" fritz remarked, and if the gladness expressed in his voice could be taken as an index to the feelings of his heart, then the scout must be a happy fellow just then, when the clouds rolled away, to let the sun shine again. of course they made it without any more trouble than noodles giving a last try at the friendly mud, as though wanting to really find out whether it did have any bottom down below or not. and when they took some sticks, and scraped the worst of the sticky mess off his face, noodles promised to be a sight indeed. but paul assured him that they would stop at the first spring they came across, in order to allow him to wash some of the stuff off. "ain't we a nobby looking bunch of scouts now, though?" remarked fritz, as he glanced ruefully down at his muddy uniform; for as a rule the boy had been quite particular with his clothes, having reformed after joining the organization. "it's too bad you were put to such straits to help me," declared mr. anderson, heartily, "and i mean to do everything in my power to keep you from feeling sorry that you gave up all chances of winning that beautiful trophy today. it was a shame, and i regret having been the unfortunate cause of it more than i can tell you." "oh! perhaps there might be a _little_ bit of a chance left to us yet, sir," said paul; at which every one of the other seven scouts pricked up his ears and crowded around. "what d'ye mean, paul, by sayin' that?" demanded seth, his eyes opening wide as they became glued upon those of the scoutmaster, for knowing paul as he did, he understood that the other must have some clever idea in mind. "yes, tell us what the scheme is?" pleaded jotham, who had been really more disappointed of giving up the hike than any of the others; for he knew his mother, and a certain girl jotham thought a good deal of, would be on the grandstand at the baseball grounds, waiting to cheer him as he passed by with his fellow scouts. "it all depends on how long it takes us to get mr. anderson to the nearest farmhouse," paul went on. "why, i remember seeing a house near the road just below where we left it to head for the swamp!" spoke up fritz, eagerly, "and i guess we could carry him there in less'n half an hour if we had to." at that the aeronaut spoke up. "i protest. please don't take me into consideration at all, boys," he hastened to say, "if there's the remotest chance for you to make your race, leave me right here, and start off. i'll find my way to the road, and then a farmhouse, where they'll take me in, and have me looked after. you've done wonders for me as it is, saved my life, i haven't the least doubt; and i'm going to remember it, you can depend, but i wish you'd let me take care of myself from now on." but paul shook his head. he understood the feeling that prompted the gentleman to speak in this vein; but he did not think mr. anderson was as well able to look out for himself as he would have them believe. "we never do things by halves, sir," the scoutmaster said, steadily. "if you can hobble along with one of us on either side to help, we'll go that way; but if it's too much of an effort then i'll show you how smart we are about making a litter out of some of these saplings here on which we'll carry you." mr. anderson looked pleased to hear paul talk in this confident way; but would not listen to such a thing as treating him like a badly wounded man. "give me a shoulder to lean on, and i'm sure i can make it in decent time, boys," he declared. so paul ranged on his right, with sturdy seth closing up on the left, and in this fashion they started out. the road was no great distance away, it will be remembered; and in less than ten minutes they had reached it. then turning toward distant beverly, they commenced to cover the ground they had previously gone over. there was no mistake about the farmhouse, in due time it was reached. their arrival quite excited the little household, for the men had come in from the fields to their midday meal. paul did not want to stop to explain matters; all that could be left to mr. anderson. the odor of dinner did make more than one of the scouts raise his eyebrows, and exchange a suggestive look with another; but they realized that every minute was precious to them now, and that they just could not stay long enough to sit and partake, though the farmer cordially invited them. they did accept a few things to munch at as they walked along; and promised to send word to a certain address which the aeronaut gave them; and in fact paul was to notify a committee by wire that disaster had overtaken the _great republic_, but that the aeronaut was safe, and wished the news to be communicated to his wife at a certain hotel in st. louis. of course all of the boys knew what the new hope that had come to paul amounted to. he had, with his customary carefulness, shown them in black and white figures just the number of miles that still remained uncovered, about eighteen in all, and then they figured out when the sun would be setting at beverly. "six full hours, and then some," seth had declared, with a look of contempt; as though he could see no reason why they should not come in on time easily. "why, of course we c'n do it, and then not half try. now, you'd think i'd be feeling stiff after that crouching work in the swamp. all a mistake. never fitter in my life. i could start on a run right now, and cover some miles without an effort." "well, don't do it, then," advised paul, "you know what happens to the racer who makes too big an effort in the start. get warmed up to your work, and there's a chance to hold out. better be in prime condition for the gruelling finish. that's the advice one of the greatest all-around athletes gives. so we'll start at a fair pace, and later on, if it becomes necessary we'll be able to run some." of course paul was thinking while he said this of the weak links in the chain, no other than eben and noodles. the latter was a wretched runner at best. he could walk fairly well, after a fashion, as his work of the last three days proved; and by judicious management paul hoped to coax noodles along, mile after mile. as they walked they munched the sandwiches provided at the farm house where mr. anderson had been left. thus they killed two birds with one stone, as paul put it--continued to cover a couple of precious miles while securing strength and comfort from the food. whenever a chance occurred noodles would get to work again scraping some more dirt off his garments. fritz often declared the county would prosecute him for leaving so many piles of swamp mud along the pike; but after each and every operation the stout boy declared that he felt in far better trim to continue the journey, and that at least pleased all hands. "i'm beginning to hope, noodles," remarked jotham, "that by the time we get to beverly you'll look half way decent, and not make the girls ashamed to own us as we march through the town to the music of a band, mebbe." "put i don't want to be owned py any girl as i knows; so what differences does idt make, dell me?" was all the satisfaction he got from the other; who was evidently more concerned about the cost of a new suit, all to be earned by his own individual exertions, than anything else. when the first hour had passed, and they found that they had made four miles as near as could be told, some of the scouts were exultant, and loudly declared it was going to be as easy as falling off a log. "a regular picnic, believe me!" declared seth. "like taking candy from the baby!" fritz affirmed. "a walk-over!" was babe's style of expressing his sentiments. "well, it will be that, if we ever get to beverly green before the sun drops out of sight," laughed paul. he was only concerned about noodles, truth to tell, for he knew that eben, while no great athlete, had a reserve fund in his stubborn qualities, and would shut his teeth hard together toward the end, plodding along with grim determination. noodles must be watched, and coddled most carefully, if they hoped to carry him with them over the line in time to claim the glorious trophy. and that was really why paul asked him to walk along with him, so that he could from time to time cheer the other up by a few words of praise that would make him believe he was showing great improvement in his stride. it could be seen by the way his eye lighted up that noodles appreciated this flattery; he had a real jaunty air as he walked on, and even cast an occasional glance of commiseration back at the fellows less highly favored than himself. besides, paul, as a careful manager, wished to husband a certain portion of the other's strength for the last five miles. he knew that must be the sticking time, when probably noodles would declare he could not go another step, and endeavor to drop down beside the road to rest. now paul knew how far being diplomatic went in an affair of this kind. he remembered hearing a story about two gentlemen on a hunting trip up in maine, carrying a couple of air rubber mattresses for sleeping purposes, and wondering how they could get the two guides, one a native, and the other a penobscot indian, to blow them up every night. so during the supper one of them got to comparing the chests of the two men, and exciting their rivalry as to which had the larger lungs. when he had them fully primed he said he had means of testing the matter, and brought out the twin air mattresses. eagerly then the guides lay flat on their stomachs, and at the word started to blow like two-horse power engines. the first test was declared a _tie_; and after that the guides could hardly wait for night to come to try out their lungs against each other. and with this story in his mind the young scoutmaster determined to play the two weak members of the beaver patrol against each other, having in view the benefit that would result from such keen rivalry. first he talked to noodles about eben's awakening talent in the line of pedestrian feats; and soon had the stout boy affirming that he could beat the best efforts of the bugler without more than half trying. then paul found a chance to arouse the ambition of eben in turn, by hinting at what noodles had boasted. thus paul presently had the two lads jealously watching each other. they did not come to any open rupture, because they were good fellows, and fast friends, but did eben happen to take a notion to go up a little in the line in order to speak to one of the others, noodles clung to him like a leech. indeed, paul had to restrain the eager pair more than once, for they were so determined to excel the record, each of the other, that they gave evidences of even wanting to run. by carefully nursing this spirit of emulation and rivalry the patrol leader believed he was assisting the cause, without doing either of his chums the slightest injury. it was a case of simply bringing out all there was in a couple of lads who, as a rule, were prone to give up too easily. and so they kept tramping along the turnpike leading toward home, jollying each other, and every now and then, when resting for a bit, trying to remove some of the dreadful evidences of black mud from their usually natty uniforms and leggins. "p'raps they'll think it the biggest joke going," remarked seth, "when they get on to it that we've been in the black water swamps, and i guess freddy's crowd'll laugh themselves sick, like a lot of ninnies, but just wait till we tell what took us there, and show the card mr. anderson gave us, with his message for st. louis on the back. then it seems to me the laugh will be on them." they took great consolation in remembering what a gallant piece of work they had been enabled to carry out since leaving camp alabama that morning. it would perhaps be carried far and wide in the papers, when mr. anderson's story was told, and reflect new glory on the uplifting tendency of the boy scout movement. people who did not understand what a wonderful lot of good was coming out of teaching growing lads to be able to take care of themselves under any and all conditions, besides being considerate for others, brave in time of danger, and generous toward even their enemies, would have their eyes opened. and so it was a happy and merry parcel of scouts that plodded along the road leading to beverly town that afternoon, as the sun sank lower and lower toward the west. chapter xvi "well done, beaver patrol!" they had struck along the road leading from scranton, and reached the well-known jerusalem pike, of which mention has been frequently made in previous stories of this series. as they passed the stebbens and the swartz farms the scouts gave a cheer that brought a waving of handkerchiefs from the windows of the houses, which were in plain sight of the road. far down in the west the glowing sun was sinking; but paul had calculated well, and he knew that, barring accidents, they could easily make the town before the king of day passed from sight. once they had halted for a few minutes' rest, the last they expected to enjoy, and paul had taken advantage of the opportunity to start a smoky fire; after which he and seth, the signal sender of the patrol, used the latter's blanket to send a series of dense smoke clouds soaring upward at certain intervals. one of the boys who expected to join the second patrol in the early fall, steve slimmons, would be on the lookout for this signal that would announce the coming of the weary column; and when he caught sight of the smoke waves it would be his duty to announce that, after all, the scouts had not fallen down in their brave attempt to win that glorious trophy; but were coming right along, and hoped to be on hand in due time. well, there would be a good many suppers delayed in and around beverly on that night, some of the scouts told each other. they could easily picture the green swarming with people, all watching up the road for the patrol to turn the bend, and come in sight, with unbroken ranks, having fulfilled the conditions of the hike to the letter. there was no longer any need for paul to excite the slumbering ambitions of either eben or noodles. why, after they passed the crossroads where the ruins of the old blacksmith shop lay, in which they had held their first meetings, but which had been mysteriously burned down, some thought by mischievous and envious town boys--after they had gone by this well-known spot, and sighted the scroggins farm beyond, every fellow had actually forgotten such a thing as fatigue. they held themselves up straight, and walked with a springy step that would go far toward indicating that a hundred miles in four days was only play for such seasoned veterans. and now the outlying houses of the home town began to loom up. why, to several of the boys it really seemed as though they must have been away for weeks. they eagerly pointed out various objects that were familiar in their eyes, just as if they had feared the whole map of the town might have been altered since they marched away on their little four day tramp. seth in particular was greatly amused by hearing this kind of talk. he had been away from home so much that the novelty of the sensation of coming back did not appeal to him, as it may have done to eben and jotham for instance. "you fellers," said seth, chuckling while he spoke, "make me think of the little kid that took a notion to run away from home, and wandered around all day. when night came along he just couldn't stand it any longer, and crept home. his folks knew what was up, and they settled on punishing him by not noticing him, or saying a thing about his being gone. the kid tried to ketch the attention of maw, but she was sewing, and kept right along, just like he'd been around all day. then he tried dad; but he read his paper, and smoked his pipe, and never paid the least attention. that boy just couldn't understand it. there he'd been away from home a whole year it seemed to him, since morning, and yet nobody seemed to bother the least bit, or make a fuss over him. and when he couldn't get a rise from anybody, he saw the family pussy sittin' by the fire. 'oh!' he says, says he, 'i see you've still got the same old cat you had when i went away!'" even eben and noodles laughed at that. they knew the joke was on them; but just at that moment both were feeling too happy to take offense at anything. "there's the church steeple!" cried babe. "yes, you're so tall you c'n see things long before the rest of us do," declared jotham, not maliciously, but with the utmost good humor, for he knew that in a very short time now he would see his dear little mother, proudly watching him march past; and perhaps also discover a tiny web of a handkerchief waving from the pretty hand of a certain little girl he knew; and the thought made jotham very happy. "listen! ain't that boys shouting?" demanded seth. "just what it is now," replied andy. "they've got scouts at the bend of the road, and know we're coming." "we've done what we set out to do, fellers!" cried seth, gloatingly. "and the trophy belongs to us; for right now we're in beverly town, and there's the blessed old sun still half an hour high," fritz observed with pardonable pride in his voice. "and think of us getting that balloon man safe out of the black water swamps; yes, and going to the middle of the patch, something that they say nobody ever did before! that's going to be a big feather in our caps, believe me," seth went on to say, as he took a glance down at his stained khaki trousers and leggins. paul gave his little command one last look over, for they were now at the bend, and in another minute would come under the eyes of the dense crowd which, from all the signs that came to his ears, he felt sure had gathered to welcome the marching patrol home again after their long hike. then the curve in the road was reached; a dozen more steps and they turned it, to see the green fairly black with people, who waved their hats and handkerchiefs, and shouted, until it seemed to the proud scouts that the very foundations of the heavens must tremble under the roaring sound. chief henshall was there, together with several of his men, keeping an avenue open along which the khaki-clad boys were to march, to a spot in front of the grand stand, where the generous donor of the trophy, together with a committee of prominent citizens of beverly, waited to receive them. it was perhaps the proudest moment in the lives of those eight boys when paul, replying to the little speech which accompanied the passing of the silver cup, thanked mr. sargeant and the committee for the great interest taken in the formation of beverly troop; and in a few words explained just why he and his comrades came so near being unable to fulfill the obligations governing the hike. when mr. sargeant read aloud the message which the wrecked balloonist was wiring to st. louis, in which he declared that he owed his very life to the daring of the boy scouts, who had penetrated to the very center of the black water swamps in order to rescue him, such a din of cheering as broke out had never been heard in beverly since that never-to-be-forgotten day when the baseball nine came up from behind in the ninth inning, and clinched the victory that gave them the high school championship of the county for that year. but the boys now began to realize that they were, as seth expressed it, "some tired," and they only too willingly allowed their folks to carry them off home, to get washed up, and partake of a good meal. but no matter what each scout may have secretly thought when he sat down to a white tablecloth, with silver, and china, and polished glass around him, he stoutly avowed that nothing could equal the delight of a camp-fire, tin cups and platters, and simple camp fare, flanked by an appetite that was keener than anything ever known at home. this work of four days was likely to long remain the banner achievement of the beaver patrol lads; but the vacation period still held out a few weeks further enjoyment, and it may be readily understood that such wide-awake fellows would be sure to hatch up more or less excitement before the call came to go back to school duties. that this proved to be the case can be understood from the fact that another volume follows this story, bearing the significant title of "the boy scouts' woodcraft lesson; or, proving their mettle in the field." and the young reader who has become interested in the various doings of the scouts belonging to the beaver patrol can find in the pages of that book further accounts of what acting scoutmaster paul prentice and his seven valorous chums started out to accomplish, in order to prove that the education of a boy scout brings out the best there is in him, under any and all conditions. the end ------------------------------------------------------------------------ boys' copyrighted books the most attractive and highest class list of copyrighted books for boys ever printed. in this list will be found the works of w. bert foster, capt. ralph bonehill, arthur m. winfield, etc. printed from large clear type, illustrated, bound in a superior quality of cloth. the clint webb series by w. bert foster .--swept out to sea; or, clint webb among the whalers. .--the frozen ship; or, clint webb among the sealers. .--from sea to sea; or, clint webb on the windjammer. .--the sea express; or, clint webb and the sea tramp. the young sportsman's series by capt. ralph bonehill rival cyclists; or, fun and adventures on the wheel. young oarsmen of lake view; or, the mystery of hermit island. leo the circus boy; or, life under the great white canvas. sea and land series four boys' books by favorite authors oscar the naval cadet capt. ralph bonehill blue water rovers victor st. clare a royal smuggler william dalton a boy crusoe allen erie adventure and jungle series a large, well printed, attractive edition. guy in the jungle wm. murray grayden casket of diamonds oliver optic the boy railroader matthew white, jr. treasure of south lake farm w. bert foster young hunters series by capt. ralph bonehill gun and sled; or, the young hunters of snow top island. young hunters in porto rico; or, the search for a lost treasure. two young crusoes; by c. w. phillips. through apache land; or, ned in the mountains; by lieut. r. h. jayne. bright and bold series by arthur m. winfield poor but plucky; or, the mystery of a flood. school days of fred harley; or, rivals for all honors. by pluck, not luck; or, dan granbury's struggle to rise. the missing tin box; or, hal carson's remarkable city adventure. college library for boys by archdeacon farrar julian home; or, a tale of college life. st. winifred's; or, the world of school. for sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of $ . m. a. donohue & co. - so. dearborn street, chicago ------------------------------------------------------------------------ famous books in rebound editions heidi a child's story of life in the alps by johanna spyri pages--illustrated. printed from new plates; neatly bound in cloth. pinocchio a tale of a puppet--by c. collodi printed from new plates on a good grade of paper; neatly bound in cloth; illustrated. elsie dinsmore by martha finley beautiful edition of this popular book. printed from new plates, covers stamped in four colors from original design. brownies and other stories illustrated by palmer cox pages and containing an illustration on nearly every page; printed from new plates from large, clear type, substantially bound in cloth. helen's babies by john habberton this amusing and entertaining book, printed from new plates, cloth binding. hans brinker; or, the silver skates by mary mapes dodge a popular edition of this well-known story of life in holland. rainy day diversions by carolyn wells pleasant day diversions by carolyn wells printed on a good grade of paper from new plates, bound in a superior grade book binders' cloth. these volumes have never before been offered for less than $ . ; for sale now at the special price of $ . each. for sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price mentioned. m. a. donohue & co. - so. dearborn street, chicago ------------------------------------------------------------------------ always ask for the donohue complete editions--the best for least money woodcraft for boy scouts and others by owen jones and marcus woodman with a message to boy scouts by sir baden-powell, founder of the boy scouts' movement. one of the essential requirements of the boy scout training is a knowledge of woodcraft. this necessitates a book embracing all the subjects and treating on all the topics that a thorough knowledge of woodcraft implies. this book thoroughly exhausts the subject. it imparts a comprehensive knowledge of woods from fungus growth to the most stately monarch of the forest; it treats of the habits and lairs of all the feathered and furry inhabitants of the woods. shows how to trail wild animals; how to identify birds and beasts by their tracks, calls, etc. tells how to forecast the weather, and in fact treats on every phase of nature with which a boy scout or any woodman or lover of nature should be familiar. the authorship guarantees its authenticity and reliability. indispensable to "boy scouts" and others. printed from large clear type on superior paper. embellished with over thumb nail illustrations taken from life bound in cloth. stamped with unique and appropriate designs in ink. price, c postpaid m. a. donohue & co. - s. dearborn st.--chicago ------------------------------------------------------------------------ always ask for the donohue complete editions--the best for least money donohue's plays, dialogs, readings, recitations, etc. a carefully compiled series of books, which includes everything that is fresh, popular and up-to-date. embracing, humorous, sentimental, patriotic, serious, comic, eloquent, pathetic, character and dialect sketches that are always in demand. model series of speakers and dialogs nos. to , recitations and dialogs for all occasions, price, c each. comic readings and recitations pages all comic and humorous, price, c in paper. c in cloth. patriotic recitations and readings pages for all patriotic occasions, price, c in paper. c in cloth. tommy's first speaker over short, simple pieces for little tots. cloth, c. tommy's second speaker over serious, quaint pieces for older ones. cloth, c. dearborn speaker and dialogs original and selected readings for all purposes with observations for study and practice. cloth, c. young folks dialogs and dramas short, pretty, funny for all occasions, paper c. cloth, c. everybody's speaker and entertainer contains select readings, dialogs and dramas. illustrated. cloth, $ . american star speaker and elocutionist complete text on how to recite. selections, pages. cloth $ . the above books have been carefully prepared for pupils of all ages, and are especially adopted for the use of schools, churches, lyceums, anniversaries, temperance societies, lodges, in fact, they are indispensable when preparing for _any_ public entertainment. for sale by all book and newsdealers, or will be sent to any address in the united states, canada or mexico, postage paid, on receipt of price, in currency, money order or stamps. m. a. donohue & co. - s. dearborn street--chicago ------------------------------------------------------------------------ transcriber's notes: . punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards. . corrections to typographic errors in original: table of contents listed chapter viii on page , corrected to . p. "samee" to "same" ("but all the same, i want") p. "sup-up" to "sun-up" ("since sun-up") p. "fresk" to "fresh" ("hankering after fresh milk") p. "superflous" to "superfluous" ("superfluous burdens") p. "promises" to "promised" ("promised to be a most fortunate thing") p. "mortagge" to "mortgage" ("meant to pay off my mortgage") p. "befel" to "befell" ("seldom if ever befell ordinary lads") p. "alway" to "always" ("as the papers always make out") p. "trememduous" to "tremendous" ("tremendous cheer") p. "or" to "of" ("habit of relying") p. "susprised" to "surprised" ("not very much surprised") p. "commisseration" to "commiseration" ("glance of commiseration") p. "jersualem" to "jerusalem" ("well-known jerusalem pike") p. "price" to "pride" ("with pardonable pride in his voice") first advertising page ("boys copyrighted books"): "tayne" to "jayne" ("lieut. r. h. jayne.") fourth advertising page ("donohue's plays"): "eveything" to "everything" ("everything that is fresh") _boy scout series volume _ the boy scout automobilists or jack danby in the woods by major robert maitland the saalfield publishing company chicago, akron, ohio, new york _copyright, _ _by the saalfield publishing co._ chapter i called to active service "what's this call for a special meeting of the boy scouts, jack?" asked pete stubbs, a first class boy scout, of his chum jack danby, who had just been appointed assistant patrol leader of the crow patrol of the thirty-ninth troop. "well, i guess it isn't a secret any more," said jack. he and pete stubbs worked in the same place, and they were great chums, especially since jack had enlisted his chum in the boy scouts. "the fact is," he continued, "that scout-master durland has been trying for several days to arrange the biggest treat the troop, or any other troop, has ever had. you know the state militia begins maneuvers pretty soon, pete?" "say, jack," cried red-haired pete, dancing up and down in his excitement, "you don't mean to say that there's a chance that we are to go out with the militia?" "i think this call means that there's more than a chance, pete, and that the whole business is settled. you see, some of the fellows work in places where they might find it hard to get off. in the militia it's different. the law makes an employer give a man time off for the militia when it's necessary, but there's no reason why it should be that way for us. but mr. durland has been trying to get permission for all of us." "i'll bet he didn't have any trouble here when he came to see mr. simms," said pete, enthusiastically. "if all the bosses were like him, we'd be all right." "they're not, pete, though i guess most of them try to do what's fair, when they understand just how things are. but, anyhow, mr. simms thought it was a fine idea, and he went around and helped mr. durland with the other people, who weren't so ready to let off the boy scouts who happened to be working for them. and i guess that this call means that it's all fixed up, for if it hadn't been nothing would have been said about it." pete and jack, with the other members of the troop, reported at scout headquarters that night, and gave scout-master durland a noisy welcome when he rose to address them. "now," he said, "i want you to be quiet and listen to me. a great honor has been paid to the troop. we have been invited to take part, as scouts, in the coming maneuvers of the national guard. there is to be a sham war, you know, and the militia of this state and the neighboring state, with some help from the regular army, are to take part in it. a troop of boy scouts has been selected from the other state, and after the militia officers had inspected all the troops in this state they chose the thirty-ninth." he had to stop then for a minute to give the great cheer that greeted his announcement time to die away. "gee, jack, i guess we're all right, what?" asked pete, happily. "be still a minute, pete. mr. durland isn't through yet." "now, i have gone around and got permission for all of you to go on this trip," the scout-master went on. "it's going to be different from anything we've ever done before. it's a great big experiment, and we're going to be watched by boy scouts and army and national guard officers all over the country. it means that the boy scouts are going to be recognized, if we make good, as a sort of reserve supply for the militia. but we are going, if we go, without thinking about that at all. forget the militia, and remember only that you will have a chance to do real scouting, and to make real reports of a real enemy." "look here," cried dick crawford, the assistant scout-master, suddenly, "i want everyone to join in and give three cheers for scout-master durland. i know how hard he's worked to give every one of us a chance to make this trip and get the experience of real scouting. and it's up to every one of us to see that he doesn't have any reason to feel sorry that he did it. he trusts us to make good, and we've certainly got to see to it that we do. come now--three times three for the scout-master!" then came the formal giving of the instructions that were required for preparation for the trip. each scout got word of the equipment that he himself must bring. "and mind, now, no extras," said durland, warningly. "if the weather is at all hot, it's going to be hard work carrying all we must carry, and we don't want any scouts to have to drop out on the march because their knapsacks are too heavy. we will camp by ourselves, and we will keep to ourselves, except when we're on duty. remember that i, as commander of the troop, take rank only as a national guard captain, and that i am subject to the orders of every major and other field officer who may be present. "some of the militiamen and their officers may be inclined to play tricks, and to tease us, but the best way to stop them is to pay no attention to them at all. now, i want every boy to go home and spend the time he can spare before the start studying all the scout rules, and brushing up his memory on scoutcraft and campcraft. polish up your drill manual, too. that may be useful. we want to present a good appearance when we get out there with the soldiers." the start for the camp of the state militia, who were to gather under the command of brigadier-general harkness at a small village near the state line, called guernsey, was to be made on sunday. the scouts would be in camp sunday night, ready at the first notes of the general reveille on monday morning to turn out and do their part in the work of defending their state against the invasion of the blue army, under general bliss, of the rival state. "you see," said jack, explaining matters to pete stubbs and tom binns as they went home together after the meeting, "we are classed as the red army, and we are supposed to be on the defensive. the blue army will try to capture the state capital, and it is our business to defeat them if possible." "how can they tell whether we beat them or not, if we don't do any fighting?" asked tom binns. "in this sort of fighting it's all worked out by theory, just as if it were a game of chess, tom, and there are umpires to decide every point that comes up." "how do they decide things, jack?" "why, they ride over the whole scene of operations, either on horseback, or, if the field is very extensive, in automobiles. if troops are surrounded, they are supposed to be captured, and they are sent to the rear, and required to keep out of all the operations that follow. then the umpires, who are high officers in the regular army, decide according to the positions that are taken which side has the best chance of success. that is, if two brigades, of different sides, line up for action, and get into the best tactical positions possible, the umpires decide which of them would win if they were really engaged in a true war, and the side that gets their decision is supposed to win. the other brigade is beaten, or destroyed, as the case may be." "then how about the whole affair?" "well, each commanding general works out his strategy, and does his best to bring about a winning position, just as they would at chess, as i said. there is a time limit, you see, and when the time is up the umpires get together, inspect the whole theatre of war, and make their decision." "it's a regular game, isn't it, jack?" "yes. the germans call it krug-spiel--which means war-game, and that term has been adopted all over the world. it's played with maps and pins, too, in the war colleges, both for sea and land, and that's how officers get training for war in time of peace. it isn't an easy game to learn, either." "where do we come in, jack? what is it we're supposed to do?" "obey orders, in the first place, absolutely. and i don't know what the orders will be, and neither does anyone else, so i can't tell you just what we'll do. but, generally speaking, we'll just have to do regular scout duty. it will be up to us to detect the movements of the enemy, and report, through scout-master durland, who'll be captain durland, during the maneuvers, to the staff." "general harkness's staff, you mean, jack? just what is a staff, anyhow?" "the headquarters staff during a campaign is a sort of extra supply of arms and legs and eyes for the commanding general. the staff officers carry his orders, and represent him in different parts of the field. they carry orders, and receive reports, and they take just as much routine work as possible off the hands of the general, so that he'll be free to make his plans. you see the general never does any actual fighting. he's too valuable to risk his life that way. he's supposed to stay behind, and be ready to take advantage of any chance he sees." "times have changed, haven't they, jack? in the old histories we used to read about generals who led charges and did all sorts of things like that." "well, it would be pretty wasteful to put a general in danger that way now, pete. he's had plenty of chance to prove his bravery, as a rule, and, when he's a general, and has years of experience behind him, the idea is to use his brain. if he is in the rear, and by his eyes and the reports he gets in all sorts of ways, can get a general view of what is going on, he can tell just what is best to be done. sometimes the only way to win a battle is to sacrifice a whole brigade or a division--to let it be cut to pieces, without a chance to save itself, in order that the rest of the army may have time to change its position, so that the battle can be won. that's the sort of thing the general has got to decide, and if he's in the thick of the fighting in the old-fashioned way, he can't possibly do that." "i think it's going to be great sport, don't you, jack?" asked tom binns. "will there be any real firing?" "yes--with smokeless powder, because they want to test some new kinds. but they'll use blank cartridges, of course. there'll be just as much noise as ever, but there won't be any danger, of course." "i don't like the sound of firing much," said tom binns, a little shamefacedly. "even when i know it's perfectly safe and that there aren't any bullets, it makes me awfully nervous." "this will be good practice for you, then, tom, because it will help you to get used to it. i hope we'll never have another war, but we want to be ready if we ever do. 'be prepared'--that's our scout motto, you know, and it means for the things that we might have to do in war, as well as the regular peaceful things that come up every day." "will there be any aeroplanes?" asked pete stubbs. "i'm crazy to see one of those things flying sometime, jack. i never saw one yet, except that time when the fellow landed here and hurt himself. and i didn't see him in the air, but only after he made his landing. the machine was all busted up then, too." "i think there'll be some aeroplane scouting by the signal corps. several of the men in that are pretty well off, you know, and they have their own flying machines. i guess that's one of the things they'll try to determine in these maneuvers, the actual, practical usefulness of aeroplanes, and whether biplanes or monoplanes are the best." "say, jack, why couldn't we boy scouts build an aeroplane sometime? if we learned something about them this next week, i should think we might be able to do something like that. i know a lot of fellows that have made experiments with toy ones, that wind up with a spring that's made out of rubber bands. they see how far they will fly." "i think that would be great sport, pete. but we won't have any time for that until after we've been through the maneuvers. but i'll tell you what some of us may get a chance to do next week, though it's a good deal of a secret yet." "what's that, jack! we'll promise not to say a word about it, won't we, tom?" "you bet we won't, jack! tell us--do!" pleaded tom binns. "i guess it's all right for me to tell you if you won't let it go any further. well, it's just this. they're going to do a lot of experimenting with a new sort of automobile for scout duty, and i think some of us will get a chance with them." "gee, i wish i knew how to run a car the way you do, jack. i'd love that sort of thing." "i can soon teach you all i know, pete. it isn't much. come on down to the factory garage after work to-morrow morning, and i'll explain the engines to you, instead of eating lunch. are you on?" "you bet i am! will they let us?" "mr. simms will, if i ask him, i'm sure." chapter ii the red army the scouts, under durland and dick crawford, went to guernsey on a special car of a regular train. durland, in making the arrangements for the trip, had told the adjutant-general of the state militia that he wanted to keep his troop separate from the regular militiamen, as far as possible. "i've got an idea, from a few words i've heard dropped," he told that official, "that some of the boys rather resent the idea of the boy scouts being included in the maneuvers. so, for the sake of peace, i think perhaps we'd better keep them as far apart as possible. then, too, i think it will make for better discipline if we stick close together and have our own camp." "i guess you're right," said the adjutant-general. "i'll give you transportation to guernsey for your troop on the noon train on sunday. there'll be a special car hitched to the train for you. report to colonel henry at guernsey station, and he'll assign you to camp quarters. you understand--you'll use a military camp, and not your regular scout camp. the state will provide tents, bedding and utensils, and you will draw rations for your troop from the commissary department during the maneuvers." "i understand, colonel," said durland. "you know i served in the spanish war, and i was able to get pretty familiar with conditions." "i didn't know it, no," said colonel roberts, in some surprise. "what command were you with? i didn't get any further than tampa myself." "i was on general shafter's staff in cuba," said durland, quietly. colonel roberts looked at the scout-master a bit ruefully. "you're a regular," he said, half-believingly. "great scott, you must be a west pointer!" "i was," said durland, with a laugh. "so i guess you'll find that my troop will understand how to behave itself in camp." "i surrender!" said the militia colonel, laughing. "if you don't see anything you want, captain, just ask me for it. you can have anything i've got power to sign orders for. and say--be easy on the boys! they're a bit green, because this active service is something new for most of us. they mean well, but drilling in an armory and actually getting out and getting a taste of field-service conditions are two different things." "i think it's all splendid training," said durland, "and if we'd had more of it before the war with spain there wouldn't have been so many graves filled by the fever. why, colonel, it used to make me sick to go around among the volunteer camps about siboney and see the conditions there, with men who were brave enough to fight the whole spanish army just inviting fever and all sorts of disease by the rankest sort of carelessness. their officers were brave gentleman, but, while they might have been good lawyers and doctors and bankers back home, they had never taken the trouble to read the most elementary books on camp life and sanitation. a day's hard reading would have taught them enough to save hundreds of lives. we lost more men by disease than the spaniards were able to kill at el caney and san juan. and it was all needless." "i'm detached from my regiment for this camp," said colonel roberts, earnestly, "but i'm going to get hold of major jones as soon as i get to guernsey, and ask him to have you inspect the fourteenth and criticize it. don't hesitate, please, captain! just pitch in and tell us what's wrong, and we'll all be eternally grateful to you. and i wish you'd give me a list of those books you were talking about, will you?" "gladly," said durland. "all right, colonel. i'll have the troop on hand for that train." the scouts enjoyed the trip mightily. durland took occasion to impress on them some of the differences between a regular boy scout encampment and the strict military camp of which, for the next week, they were to form a part. "remember to stick close to your own camp," he said. "after taps don't go out of your own company street. there's no need of it, and i don't want any visiting around among the other troops. in a place like this camp, boys and men don't mix very well, and you'd better stick by yourselves. we won't be there very long, anyway, because we'll probably be detached from headquarters monday. the army will break up, too, because this is really only a concentration camp, where the army will be mobilized." "when does the war begin?" asked dick crawford. "war is supposed to be declared at noon to-morrow," said durland. "it is regarded as inevitable already, however, and general harkness can begin throwing out his troops as soon as he has them ready, though not a shot can be fired before noon. neither can a single red or blue soldier cross the state line before that time. however, i suspect that the line will be pretty well patrolled before the actual declaration, so as to prevent general bliss from throwing any considerable force across the line before we are ready to meet it. if he could get between guernsey and the state capital in any force, the chances are that we'd be beaten before we ever began to fight at all." "that wouldn't do," said dick crawford. "will we have any fortifications to defend at all, sir?" "not unless we're driven back pretty well toward the capital. of course there are no real fortifications there, but imaginary lines have been established there. however, if we were forced to take to those the moral victory would be with the blues, even though they couldn't actually compel the surrender of the city within the time limit. if i were general harkness, i think i would try at once to deceive the enemy by presenting a show of strength on his front and carry the war into his own territory by a concealed flanking movement, and if that were properly covered i think we could get between him and his base and cut him off from his supplies." "you mean you'd really take the offensive as the best means of defense?" "that's been the principle upon which the best generals always have worked, from hannibal to kuroki," said durland, his eyes lighting up. "look at the japanese in their war with russia. they didn't wait for the russians to advance through manchuria. they crossed the border at once, though nine critics out of every ten who had studied the situation expected them to wait for the russians to cross the yalu and make korea the great theater of the war. instead of that they advanced themselves, beat a small russian army at the yalu, and pressed on. they met the russians, who were pouring into manchuria over their great trans-siberian railway, and drove them back, from liao yiang to mukden. they'd have kept on, too, if they hadn't been stopped by peace." "could they have kept on, though? i always had an idea that they needed the peace even more than the russians did." "well, you may be right. that's something that no one can tell. they had the confidence of practically unceasing victory from the very beginning of the war. they were safe from invasion, because their fleet absolutely controlled the yellow sea after the battle of tsushima, and there weren't any more russian battleships to bother them. they had bottled up the russian force in port arthur, and they were in the position of having everything to gain and very little to lose. their line of communication was perfectly safe." "they must have weakened themselves greatly, though, in that series of battles." "yes, they did. and, of course, there is the record of russia to be considered. russia has always been beaten at the start of a war. it has taken months of defeat to stiffen the russians to a real fight. napoleon marched to moscow fairly easily, though he did have some hard fights, like the one at borodino, on the way. but he had a dreadful time getting back, and that was what destroyed him. after that leipzic and waterloo were inevitable. it was the russians who really won the fight against napoleon, though it remained for blucher and wellington to strike the death blows." "well, after all, what might have happened doesn't count for so much. it's what did really happen that stands in history, and the japanese won. it was by their daring in taking the offensive and striking quickly that they did that, you think?" "it certainly seems so to me! and look at the germans in the war with france. von moltke decided that the thing to do was to strike at the very heart and soul of france--paris. so he swept on, leaving great, uncaptured fortresses like metz and sedan behind him, which was against every rule of war as it was understood then. of course, metz and sedan were both captured, but it was daring strategy on the part of von moltke. it was supposed then to be suicidal for an army to pass by a strong fortress, even if it were invested." "that was how the boers made so much trouble for the english, too, wasn't it?" "certainly it was. the english expected the boers to sit back and wait to be attacked. instead of that the boers swept down at once on both sides of the continent, and besieged kimberly and ladysmith. that was how they were able to prolong the war. they took the offensive, in spite of being outnumbered, and while they could never have really hoped to win, they put up a wonderful fight." "well, i suppose we'll know in a day or so what general harkness plans to do." "hardly! we're not connected with the staff in any way, and he'll discuss his plans only with his own staff officers. he has an excellent reputation. he commanded a brigade in the porto rico campaign, you know, and did very well, though that campaign was a good deal of a joke. but one reason that it was a joke was that it was so well planned by general miles and the others under him that there was no use, at any stage of it, in a real resistance on the part of the spaniards. they were beaten before a shot was fired, and they had sense enough not to waste lives uselessly." "then they weren't cowardly?" "no, indeed, and don't let anyone tell you they were, either. the spaniards were a brave and determined enemy, but they were so crippled and hampered by orders from home that they were unable to make much of a showing in the field. we'll learn some time, i'm afraid, that we won that war too easily. overconfidence is our worst national fault. just because we never have been beaten, we think we're invincible. i hope the lesson, when it does come, and if it does come, won't be too costly." the run to guernsey was not a very long one. the train arrived there at four o'clock in the afternoon, and the scouts, armed only with their clasp knives, scout axes and sticks, lined up on the platform in excellent order. dick crawford, who ranked as a lieutenant for the encampment, took command, while durland reported the arrival to colonel henry, as he had been ordered to do. half a dozen extra sidings had been laid for the occasion by the railroad, and on these long trains, each carrying militia, had been shunted. clad all in khaki, or, rather, in the substitute adopted by the american army as more serviceable and less easy to distinguish at a distance, a stout cloth of olive drab, thousands of sturdy militiamen were standing at ease, waiting for orders to move. field guns, too, and horses, for the mounted troops, were being unloaded, and the scene was one of the greatest activity. hoarse cries filled the air, but there was only the appearance of confusion, since the citizen soldiers understood their work thoroughly, and each man had his part to play in the spectacle. from one of the trains, too, three great structures with spreading wings had been unloaded, and the eyes of the boy scouts turned constantly toward the spot where mechanics were busily engaged in assembling the aeroplanes which were to serve, to some extent, as the eyes of the army. "glad to see you, captain," colonel henry said to durland when the scout-master reported the arrival of his troop. "i'll send an orderly with you to show you the location of your camp. colonel roberts directed me to give you an isolated location, and i have done so. it's a little way from drinking water, but i guess you won't mind that." "not a bit, sir," said durland, smilingly. "very well, captain. report to general harkness's tent at eight o'clock, sir, for your instructions. i think you will find that the general has enough work planned to keep your troop pretty busy to-morrow. we shall all watch your work with a great deal of interest. we've been hearing a lot about durland's scouts." durland saluted then, and turned with the orderly to rejoin his troop. in two hours the camp was ready. the neat row of tents, making a short but perfectly planned and arranged company street, were all up, bedding was ready, and supper was being cooked from the rations supplied by the commissary department. durland, with active recollections of commissary supplies, had been inclined to bring along extra supplies for his troop, but had decided against doing so, though he knew that many of the militia companies had taken the opposite course to his own, and had brought along enough supplies to set an excellent table. "i want the boys to get a taste of real service," he told dick, "and it won't hurt them a bit to rough it for a week. they get enough to eat, even if there isn't much variety, and the quality isn't of the best. the stuff is wholesome, anyhow--that's what counts." by the time he returned from headquarters, the troop was sound asleep, save for the sentries, tom binns and harry french, who challenged him briskly. chapter iii the scouting auto reveille sounded at five o'clock. there was plenty to be done before the war game actually began. there were plans to be laid, codes to be determined, umpires to be consulted as to vague and indefinite rules, and all sorts of little things that in a real war would have adjusted themselves. but the scouts were well out of the excitement. they struck their tents and handed them over, neatly arranged, with all their bedding, to the men from the commissary department. "sleeping bags for us, after to-day," explained durland. "that is, if we have to sleep in the open. sometimes we'll get a barn or a hayrick, or even a bed in a farmhouse. we won't worry about all that. but we're not going to sit still, and we can't scout and carry tents and dunnage of that sort along. so i said i'd turn it all in." then the troop waited, quietly, for the orders that seemed so slow in coming. but they came at last. a young officer rode up on a horse that was dripping wet. "general harkness's compliments, captain," he said, saluting durland, "and you will take your troop at once to bremerton, on the state line. you will make your headquarters there, where a field telegraph station has been established. please hold your scouts for the stroke of twelve, when they may cross the line. the line for five miles on each side of bremerton is in your territory." "my compliments to general harkness, and we will start at once," replied durland. and a moment later they were on the hike. there was plenty of time, since bremerton was less than three miles away, and it was scarcely seven o'clock, but it was cooler then than it would be later, and durland was glad to get his troop away from the bustle and apparent confusion of the camp where the red army was beginning to move. "where are the divisional headquarters to be to-day?" durland asked a hurrying staff officer who passed just then. "hardport--across the line," the staff man replied, as he paused a moment. a wide grin illuminated his features. "that's nerve for you, eh? the old man's pretty foxy. he's going to start us moving so that we'll begin crossing the state line on the stroke of twelve, and he'll fling a brigade into hardport before two o'clock." durland whistled. "that's fine, if it works," he remarked to dick crawford, later. "but hardport practically is the key to the railroad situation, and it isn't conceivable that the blues will leave it unguarded. i'm inclined to be a wee bit dubious about that." however, as he reflected, it was really none of his business. he was responsible for his own troop, not for the conduct of the campaign, and that let him out. it was a hot, hazy day, when the sun was fully up, and the scouts marched into bremerton, to find it a sleepy, lazy, old-fashioned little town. above a building in the center the national flag was floating, and next to it a red standard. durland turned the troop over to dick crawford, with instructions to make a bivouac near the centre of the little place, and then walked over to the building where the flag was flying. as he surmised, it had become unexpectedly brigade headquarters for the fourth brigade of the red army, which had left guernsey before the breakfast call had been sounded for most of the army, and had arrived too soon. "where is your brigade, tomlinson?" he asked a young officer, who almost ran into him as he came out. "oh, hello, durland!" said the officer, wheeling briskly to shake hands with the scout-master. "why, we're hidden in the woods. old beansy's fuming and fretting because he's here too soon. the men are lying back there, but he's moved up here for brigade headquarters because it's a field telegraph station and he can talk as much as he likes with general harkness." "your brigade commander is beansy, i take it?" said durland, with a grin. "you're right, he is! general beverly bean, bless him! he'll want to see you, too, now that you've blundered into his territory. go on up--third door to the left!" durland stopped to report his arrival to division headquarters and then went on, getting into the presence of general bean after a few minutes' delay. "glad to see you sir," said the testy old officer, who was a real soldier. "suppose you know we're intended to get into hardport just as soon after this war begins as we can get there." "how soon will that be?" asked durland. "about two hours, if we're not cut to pieces on the way. i want your help here, captain. can you send some of your scouts over there to investigate? i've an idea that getting into hardport may be easier than getting out again. if bliss knows his business, he will be regarding that as a pretty important place." "i've orders to cover five miles each side of bremerton," said durland. "i can spare two scouts for any duty you may wish done, general. could they have a car?" "do they know how to run one?" the question was asked in evident surprise, but durland replied confidently. "yes, general," said he. "i've got two scouts, at least, who are perfectly capable of handling an automobile under any conditions. i'd trust myself to them, no matter how hard the road might be." "i'm glad to hear it," said the general, rather dryly. "i've got two of those new-fangled scout duty cars, with an armored hood and those new non-explosive tires, that can't be stopped by a bullet aimed at the wheels. but they didn't send me anyone to run them. there may be some chauffeurs in my brigade, but i'm not too anxious to take any men from their regiments. here--i'll give you an order for one of the cars. let your scouts make the best use they can of it." durland had heard of the new scouting cars, but had never seen one. he went now, since there was plenty of time, to look it over, and found a heavy but high-powered and fast machine of a most unusual type. the hood was armored, so that no stray bullets could reach the engine, as would be easy enough in the ordinary car. similar protection was afforded to the big gasoline tank in the rear of the car, and the seats, intended for two men, were covered by a shield, also of bullet-proof armor, that was so pierced with small holes that the road ahead could be seen. but the most extraordinary feature of the car was the new type of wheel. there were no tires in the ordinary sense at all. instead, there was a tough, but springy steel substitute, and durland spent an hour in looking the queer contrivance over, having first satisfied himself that the car was not sufficiently different from the ordinary automobile to make it impossible for jack danby to operate it. for it was jack danby he had had in mind when he asked for the use of the machine. his friend lieutenant tomlinson came up while he was looking it over. "queer lookin' critter, isn't it?" said tomlinson. he seemed quite enthusiastic. "i tell you what," he went on, "if that thing works out all right, it's going to revolutionize certain things in warfare. and it's perfect, theoretically. tires are the things that have barred automobiles from use in warfare so far. ping!--a bullet hits a tire, and the car is stalled. or suppose the chauffeur wants to leave the road and go 'cross country? his tires again. he's afraid to." "and this has tires that won't be afraid of bullets or rocks, either, eh?" "i should say they wouldn't! bullets wouldn't have a chance against that stuff. and the man who drives it is protected, too. that bullet-proof shield makes him as safe as if he were at home. and the blooming thing is good for sixty miles an hour over a half-way decent road--though it can be slowed down to just about two miles an hour, and still be ready for a quick jump." "they're being used in both armies, aren't they?" "yes. there are about a dozen of them altogether. they're evenly divided, and both armies are under orders to try them out pretty thoroughly. if they make good, there will be a lot of them put in use by the regular army. they're making their own tests, but tests under actual service conditions count for more than any number of trials when all the conditions are made to order for the people who are trying to put the cars over." it was tomlinson's busy day, and he didn't have time to dally long in talk. so he went off, and durland sent tom binns, who was acting as his orderly for the day, to bring jack danby to him. durland carried in his pockets a number of large scale maps of the sections all around the state line, in both of the states. the scale was two inches to the mile, so it took a considerable number of the maps to show at all adequately the theatre of the imaginary war. but so full of detail, thanks to the large scale, were the maps, that they showed every house in the territory they covered, and every grade. he spread three of these maps out, side by side, as he waited for jack, and traced a course over them with a pencil. jack appeared in due time, and saluted--not with the scout salute of thumb and little finger bent, with the three other fingers held straight up, but with the military salute. "danby," said durland, "i'm going to entrust you with a piece of work that is so important that the whole result of the maneuvers may depend upon it. do you think you can run that car?" jack, who had a positive genius for mechanical matters of all sorts, looked the strange looking car over carefully before he answered. "it looks straight enough, sir," he said. "self starter, i guess. and you ought to be able to go anywhere you like with those wheels. what is it that i am to do, sir?" "i can explain better with these maps," said durland. "come close here, and i will show you what i mean." jack bent over the maps with the scout-master, and durland began tracing a line with a sharp pencil. "here we are, in bremerton," he said. "now, about four miles across the state line is hardport. you can see the smoke from its factories, and the railroad yards there, because it's quite an important little city. now, there is a straight road from here that leads there--the continuation of this very road we are on now. what i want you to do is to circle around"--he pointed on the map--"and strike into hardport from the other side. find out, if possible, what troops of the blue army are in the neighborhood, and particularly along this main road. if they occupy it in force, report as quickly as possible. if they advance immediately after war is declared, return, but try to see if there is not some way in which our own troops can get behind them." "am i to go into hardport itself, sir?" "yes. and you need not stop, if challenged. your car is regarded as bullet proof, and the only way in which they can legitimately capture you is by stretching a rope or providing some sort of an obstruction that enables two of them to get a foot on your running board. remember your rights, and don't surrender to a mere challenge from a sentry. and keep your hood well down, so that they won't recognize you." "i understand, sir. what time am i to start from here?" "start as soon as you like. you'd better get off and circle pretty widely, so as to get used to the car. but don't cross the state line, whatever you do, before twelve o'clock. that is strictly against orders." there was a lot of good-natured talk among the scouts when they heard of the great chance to distinguish himself that had come to the assistant patrol leader of the crows. "gee, jack's lucky!" said one member of the whip-poor-will patrol. "he is not!" defended pete stubbs, loyally. "he's a hard worker. he's spent a lot of his own time in the last year learnin' all about an automobile. he knows how to run one, and he knows how to fix it, too, if it goes wrong on a trip. that isn't luck, and don't you call it luck!" "i didn't mean anything against jack when i said he was lucky, pete. no call to get so mad about it!" "i'm not so mad, but it does get my goat to hear people say that everything that happens to jack danby that's good comes because he's lucky. i guess he isn't any luckier than any of the rest of us, but he sticks to the job harder." no amount of coaxing, of course, would have induced jack to tell what his orders were; and as a matter of fact, only one or two of the scouts tried to find out. durland had not even thought it necessary to warn jack to be quiet, for he knew that jack was on his honor as a scout, and that nothing more was necessary to lead him to maintain a resolute silence on the subject of the strange scouting trip into the enemy's country which he was soon to begin. "good luck," cried the scout-master, finally, as jack started off. "you know your orders--now make good!" chapter iv in the enemy's country almost at the last moment scout-master durland, or captain durland, as he was again for this week, had decided not to send jack danby on his trip into the enemy's country alone. seated beside jack, therefore, under the protective hood of the scout car, was little tom binns. "keep your eye on your watch, tom," said jack. "we don't want to make any mistake and cross the line too soon--but we don't want to be late, either. this job is too important to run any risks of bungling it. i'd hate to think that i'd been trusted with something really big for the first time and then fallen down on it." "where will you cross the line, jack?" asked tom. "i should think it would be pretty hard to tell just where the boundary was." jack pointed to a road map, on a slightly smaller scale than the one from which captain durland had given him his course, which was pasted right before his eyes on the metal dashboard of the car. "i can't lose my way with that, tom," he said. "see, there's a road that we're getting pretty near to now. it crosses the state line about six miles east of bremerton, if you'll notice the map, at a little village called mardean. that's all on this side of the line. they may be watching the road there, so what we want to do is to get where we can't be seen, and then, about a minute before noon, go ahead as fast as the car will carry us. that ought to take us through all right, even if they've got a guard on duty. then we can circle around in a big sweep and come down to hardport from behind. the country people ought to be able to tell us part of what we want to know, and we can confirm what they tell us by what we can see ourselves." "they wouldn't lie to us, would they, jack?" "you couldn't call it regular lying if they gave us false information about their own army, tom. remember that this is supposed to be like a real war, and in a war the invading army wouldn't expect to get correct information from the people along the roads. on the contrary, they'd do their best to delay the enemy, and make all the trouble they could, and they'd be patriotic. so we've got to be mighty careful this next week about how we take any information we pick up in that fashion. if the people on the farms take the game seriously, and enter into the spirit of it, they'll do all they can to harass us and bother us." jack drove his car well and carefully, but made no great attempt to get high speed out of it, though it was, as he knew, capable of going three or four times as fast as he was driving it. but there is always a certain danger in driving an automobile at high speed, and jack saw no use in taking any risk that was not necessary. "you can go a lot faster than this, can't you, jack?" asked tom, as they bowled along easily, at little more than fifteen miles an hour. "what's the use, tom? we'll get to mardean before we can cross the line, anyhow. i'll go fast enough then for a spell, if you're anxious for speed. don't be impatient! we'll get all the speed you want before very long." jack was a true prophet, as one ought to be when he has the means of fulfilling the prophecy in his own hands. at mardean, just out of sight of the line, they waited while the minutes dragged slowly by. "one minute more!" cried tom binns, breathless with excitement and suspense. "all right," said jack, quietly. "hold tight now, tom! i'm going to let her out a bit." swiftly the grey car gathered speed. in a rush of dust, with horn blowing and exhaust sputtering behind them, the car shot over the line, and, just as a whistle boomed out the twelve o'clock dinner signal, jack was in hostile territory. the war was on! behind them there was a confused shouting. the car was built so that it was easy to look behind. "there was an outpost there," said tom, as he looked back. "they're kicking up a tremendous fuss, jack. i guess we rather put one over on them that time." "we've got to put another one over on them in a hurry, then," said jack, "or they'll put one over on us. let me know as soon as that outpost is well out of sight, tom. and keep your eyes skinned for any sign that they're after us with a motorcycle or anything like that, will you?" "they're out of sight now--and there's nothing on the road. hey, jack, where are you going?" for jack, after a swift glance at his map, had run deliberately off the road, reducing speed considerably as he did so, but not so much that the car did not rattle around considerably as it left the smooth roadbed and plunged into a field that had not long since been ploughed. "they'll telephone ahead of us, and they'll be waiting," jack explained. "i've got to cut through the fields here, so that we can get on another road where they won't be looking for us. otherwise i'm afraid we wouldn't get very far before we ran into a trap that all our armor and all our speed wouldn't get us out of without capture. you don't want to lose this car on its first trip, do you, tom?" "not by a good deal!" yelled tom, who was beginning to feel the exhilaration of the wild, bumping ride over the furrows of the field. "it was sort of sudden, that's all, jack; i wasn't expecting it, you see." "i meant to tell you we'd do that, but i forgot. i had it all doped out. see, we're coming to another road, now. this is a pretty big field, and it was marked accurately on that map. this whole section was surveyed and mapped especially for this war game." "say, if they do many things like that, it must cost something," said tom. "war's the most expensive thing in the world, tom, and the next most expensive, i guess, is getting ready for it, and having such a strong army and navy that no one will want to fight you. but it pays to be ready for war, no matter how much it costs, for the country that isn't ready is always the one that has to fight when it least expects it. and fighting when you're not ready is the most expensive of all. it costs money and lives." then, with a sickening bump, the car took the road again, and jack was heading straight for hardport. "those wheels worked splendidly," he said. "and the car, too. an ordinary car would have bumped itself to pieces a mile or so back, and this one is running just as easily as when we started. i suppose it cost a lot, but it was certainly worth it." "every time we hit a new furrow i thought we were going to break down," confessed tom. "i was scared at first. but i soon decided that we were all right. but i don't believe, even if i knew how to drive a car, that i'd have the nerve to take it through a ploughed field that way." "yes, you would, tom, if you knew it was the only thing you could do. you couldn't be any worse scared than i was when we left the road--but i knew, you see, that there simply wasn't any other way out of it. when you have to do a thing, you can usually manage it. i've found that out." "what's next?" "the outskirts of hardport. i want to skirt the railroad track. their mobilization was at smithville, back along the railroad about twenty miles, and if they've sent any force to hardport, the railroad will show it. if they haven't, i'm going to mark the railroad cut." "what do you mean, jack?" "in a real war, if people got a chance, this railroad would be cut. a lot of rails would be torn up and burnt. we don't want to interfere with regular traffic, so in this game we build a fire with spare ties, and mark as much rail as we'd have time to tear up, allowing ten minutes for each length of rail. then if a troop train comes along and sees that signal, it is held to be delayed an hour for each torn up rail, as that is the time it would take the sappers to repair the damage." they paused for thirty minutes, therefore, when they reached a spot about three miles and a half from the city line of hardport. "there," said jack, when he had set his marks, "that will hold them up for three hours, and give general bean a chance to occupy hardport and destroy the railroad bridge. that will take a day to rebuild, without interference, and i guess it makes it pretty safe for us. now we'll go on into town." but they didn't go into the town. they did not have to, to discover that hardport was occupied by a blue regiment, which had outposts well scattered around the place, anticipating an attack, just as captain durland had said he thought would be the case. "we'll do some more circling, now," said jack, "and get around their outposts. i know a way we can do that. what they're planning is to let general bean advance and walk into a trap. they've got enough men waiting for him along here to smash him on a frontal attack. what we've got to do is to get word to him in time to prevent him from doing that." twice, as the grey car sped along, now on the road, now in the fields, they saw parties of the enemy, but never were they near enough seriously to threaten the boy scouts with capture. and at last, striking into the main road for bremerton, they saw a cloud of dust approaching, which they recognized as the signal of the coming of general bean's brigade. the soldiers cheered them as they recognized the scout car, and opened up a way for the big car to pass through them to the brigade commander himself. "what's your name, eh?" asked the general, sharply. "danby, eh? excellent work, scout danby! i shall make it a point to report my appreciation to your troop commander. you'd better come along in the rear now, and watch the rest of the operations. thanks to you, i rather think they'll be worth watching." and, touching the spurs to his speedy black horse, he cantered up to the front of the column, chuckling and laughing as he thought of how the enemy had been outwitted by his youthful scout. the direct forward march of the brigade was interrupted immediately. one regiment, indeed, continued along the straight road to hardport, but the rest of the brigade was deployed at once. "what will they do now, jack?" asked tom binns. "well, i wouldn't be able to say for certain," replied jack, with a smile, "but i rather think they'll manage to get behind the town in some fashion, and close in on the blue troops in the garrison while the regiment in front here keeps them busy with a strong feint of an attack." a colonel of regular cavalry, with a white badge on his arm to show he was serving as an umpire, drove past just then in a big white automobile. "see, there's one of the umpires," said jack. "he goes all about, and determines the result. i'm glad he's here--that means there can't be any dispute this time. general bean has probably told him what he plans to do, and he will see how it comes out. of course, he doesn't communicate in any way with the enemy, or tell them what we're planning to do." "of course not! that wouldn't be fair, jack. i'm glad he's here, too. do you suppose he's heard about the way we blocked the railroad?" "i think he may have seen our signs and come this way just to find out what was doing." "listen!" cried jack, suddenly. "there's firing ahead! let's get on and find out what's going on." there was heavy firing ahead of them for a few minutes, and then it became intermittent. "our attack is being repelled, i guess," said jack. "that's the first engagement of the war, too. well, we may seem to be beaten in that, but i guess we can afford to lose a skirmish, if we can capture hardport and a whole blue regiment." again, after the firing had almost ceased, a rattle of shots burst on the quiet air. then, too, came the screaming of a shell, as it burst harmlessly above the city. "hooray!" cried jack. "we've surrounded them! come on!" and this time there was no opposing the entry of the grey car into hardport. the city had been surrounded and captured, just as jack had predicted, and the blue regiment that had been so completely outwitted, thanks to the cleverness of jack danby, was out of the war entirely. it was an important victory, in more ways than one. general bliss could ill afford to lose so many men, and the capture of hardport, moreover, was a crippling blow, since it interfered with the operation of the railroad which he had relied upon for bringing his troops across the state line in large numbers. the umpires lost no time in telling general bean of their decision, and in congratulating him on the strategy he had displayed. "cutting the railroad was a masterly stroke," said one of the umpires. "that's what i say!" said the general, with enthusiasm. "and it was a little tike of a boy scout, in my grey scout car, who did it--and that without orders!" chapter v off to cripple creek jack and tom binns waited only to see the surrender of hardport before jack turned the car about and made for bremerton, taking the direct road this time, since the advance of general bean and his division of the red army had swept aside all danger from the invading blue forces. the outposts, of course, which jack had had to dodge as he scouted in advance of the red advance guard, had all been driven back upon hardport, and they were prisoners of war now, and the way was clear for the day, at least. captain durland listened with scarcely concealed enthusiasm to jack's clear and concise account of what had been accomplished. "you two saved the day," he said, finally. "we would have been in a very tight hole indeed if you hadn't cut the railroad, which was the only thing that made it possible for general bean to effect the capture of hardport as he did." "how is that, sir?" asked jack. "i thought we gave him useful information, and i cut the railroad because there seemed to be a good chance to do it, without thinking very much of the consequences of doing so." "why, if you hadn't cut the railroad," said durland, "general bliss would have thrown a division into hardport as soon as he heard at his headquarters, by telegraph, that the place was threatened. then he could have moved troops over from mardean, where i imagine he had at least a couple of regiments, and general bean's brigade would have been in a trap that would have been absolutely impossible to escape from. now it's all different. we've got hardport. by this time general bean has unquestionably theoretically destroyed the railroad bridge and has artillery mounted so that the guns will have to be captured before general bliss can make an attempt to rebuild it." "i see! if the bridge is covered with guns, the theory is that the enemy couldn't do any work, eh?" "exactly! they've got to work in a narrow place, and they'd be blown to pieces, a squad at a time, while they were trying to work. that was the decisive move of the whole action. what did general bean say to you?" "he said it was good work, sir, and that he was going to speak to you of it." "excellent, jack! i am very pleased that one of my scouts should have played so important a part in the first decisive engagement of the campaign. and general bean is the sort of a man who is sure to see that you get the credit for what you've done." "what shall we do next, sir?" "i'll hold you in reserve until i get further orders from headquarters, i think. general harkness evidently plans an aggressive fight from the very outset. i have heard nothing from his headquarters direct as yet, but i probably shall pretty soon. i shall send in a report of general bean's success at hardport at once, though he has probably done that already." the scouts were working well all along the line. the enemy, as pete stubbs had reported, had crossed the state line in some small force at mardean. two regiments had occupied that village, which was on the red side of the line, and had thrown out skirmishers for a couple of miles in both directions. warner, one of the raccoon patrol, had been captured, but he was the only one of the troop who had not made good his escape in the face of the enemy's advance, and even he had accomplished the purpose for which he had been sent out, since he had managed to wig-wag the news of the advance of a troop of cavalry before they had run him down, and the news had been flashed all along the line, from scout to scout, until it had reached durland. the wireless was not in use here, though experiments were being made with a field wireless installation some miles away, but the scouts did not need it. they were spread out within plain sight of one another, and with their little red and white flags they sent messages by the morse alphabet, and in a special code, as fast as wireless could have done. they also were prepared to use, when there was a bright sun, which was not the case that day, the heliograph system, which sends messages for great distances. in that system of field signalling, extensively employed by the british during the boer war, since wireless had not at that time been at all perfected, a man stands on a slight elevation, and catches the rays of the sun on a great reflector. those flashes are visible for many miles in a clear atmosphere, in a flat country, and the flashes, of course, are practically instantaneous. "we don't need to worry about wireless for communications of a few miles," said durland. "the system of signalling that depends on seeing flashes, smokes, flags and other signals, is as old as warfare, really. the indians, in this country, used to send news an astonishing distance in an amazingly short time. they used smokes, as we know, since we have all worked out those signals ourselves from time to time. and all nations in time of war have employed relays of men with flags, stationed at fixed intervals for scores of miles, for the sending of despatches and important news. napoleon used the system on a great scale, and, until the telegraph was invented and made practicable for field work, that was the only way it could be done." "the telegraph was first used in our civil war, wasn't it, sir?" asked tom binns. "yes. but even then it was done in a very crude way. there was none of the modern elaborate work of field telegraph systems. nowadays, you see, an army builds its telegraph lines as it goes along. then they were dependent upon the lines already built, mostly along the railroad tracks. the first really great war in which such systems were in use was the struggle between russia and japan. the french and the germans didn't have them in their war." a few minutes later an orderly from the building in which the field telegraph station had been established came running up to durland. "despatch from general harkness, captain," he said, saluting, and durland took the slip of paper. he flushed with pleasure as he read it. "concentrate your troop at hardport," he read. "send danby and companion in scout car ahead, to report to me for special duty. congratulations on his splendid work, reported to me fully by general bean." "that is the sort of thing that makes it worth while to do good work," he said. "i think we saved general harkness from an embarrassing position this morning, and it is good to think that he appreciates what we were able to do. get along, now, jack, and report to headquarters just as soon as you can." there was now no need to take the grey car through the fields as jack retraced their course over the straight road from bremerton. they met pickets, but those they met, who had heard something of the deeds jack had already accomplished, cheered his progress now, since this was no longer the enemy's country but a part of red territory, by virtue of bean's swift and successful attack of the morning. the soldiers they saw were a part of their own army, and jack waved his hand in grateful acknowledgment of the cheers that pursued them as they sped by. "those fellows are regulars," he told tom, as they passed one small detachment. "it makes you feel good to think that they regard us as comrades in arms, doesn't it, tom? those fellows know what they're about, and they must regard some of our militia as a good deal of a joke." "i don't think that's a bit fair, jack," said tom. "the militia have their own work to do most of the time, and they do the best they can when they turn soldiers. and if we had a war, the regulars wouldn't be able to go very far without help--they must know that!" "they're not mean about it, tom. they help the militia as much as they can when they're in camp together, and teach them the tricks of the trade. but they're trained men who don't do anything but work at their soldiering, and the trained men always feel a bit superior to the volunteers." "some countries have a much bigger army than we do, don't they, jack?" "indeed they do! why, in europe, in every country except england, every man has to serve in the army, unless he's too weak to do it. you see, they have possible enemies on all sides of them. over here we don't realize how lucky we are to have the sea guarding us from the most dangerous enemies we might have. we haven't any reason to fear trouble with england, and canada, of course, isn't any better off than we when it comes to an army. we could take care of them easily enough with the trained troops we have. and mexico, while they might fight us, couldn't put up any sort of a real fight. the mexicans couldn't invade this country, and if we ever had to invade mexico, we'd have all the time we needed to train an army to go across and fight them, the way we did before. we may have to do that some time, but i hope not, because fighting in the sort of country there is down there would mean an awful loss of life." "you mean that they know the country so well that a small force of them could worry us and make a lot of trouble, even if we won all the big battles?" "yes. the boers couldn't stand up to the british very long in their fight, but they kept under arms and made the english armies work mighty hard to bring about peace." "well, i hope we never do have a war, jack. this is only a game, of course, but it gives you an idea of what the real thing would be like, and it must be dreadful. it makes me realize, somehow, what it might have been like in the civil war, when we were killing one another. somehow reading about those battles doesn't give you as much of an idea of how it must have been as even a single morning of this sham war." they were moving along fast as they talked, and they were in the outskirts of hardport now. the town was full of soldiers. general bean's brigade had been reinforced by the arrival of nearly ten thousand more men, and there were, altogether, about sixteen thousand troops there. general harkness, thanks to jack danby and the quick wit of general bean, who had understood the necessity of altering his plans for the capture of the place when he got jack's report, had made good his boast that he would make the place his divisional headquarters for the night. the place was all astir. small automobiles, painted red, carried bustling officers from place to place, delivering orders, preparing for the next step in the defense of the state capital. general harkness, jack found, after making several fruitless inquiries of officers who seemed to be too busy to bother with a small boy, who, had they known it, was a far more important factor in the campaign than they were at all likely to be, had established his headquarters at the hardport house, the leading hotel of the town, and there jack went. he was kept waiting for some time, after he had stated his name, and that he was under orders to report to the commanding general, but when he reached general harkness he found him a pleasant, courteous man, and very much pleased with the work that he and tom binns had done. "now," said the general, "i've got some more and very important work for you to do. i've got to find out as soon as i can what the enemy's plans are. i don't expect you to do all of that, but you can play a part." he walked over to a great wall map of the whole field of the operations, and pointed out a road on it. "that road is the key to the situation this afternoon," he said. "general bean is pressing forward to reach it as soon as possible, and occupy this bridge here in force. if he can get there in time, the enemy's advance will be checked. it is likely, in fact, that we may be able to force a decisive engagement there before the enemy is at all ready for it. our capture of hardport to-day, you see, has given us a great advantage. before that, the enemy was in a position to choose his fighting ground. he could make us meet him where he liked, and with all the advantage of position in his favor. now that will be no longer possible for him. the ground at cripple creek bridge here is the best we could have, since, if general bean can occupy the position there, general bliss will have no choice but to give battle there, and i think we can turn him back on his own mobilization point." jack saluted. "i am to report on the number and disposition of the enemy's forces about cripple creek, then, sir?" he said. "those are your orders. i shall expect a report within two hours." "yes, general. i will do my best to have one within that time." off in the distance, as jack whirled out of hardport, and beyond the last pickets of the red army, he saw a cloud of dust spreading across the country. "there's general bean," he said to tom. "gee, his fellows must be pretty tired! they've fought a battle and captured a town already, and now they're off on a fifteen-mile march. going some, i think!" cripple creek was fifteen miles by the straight route the troops were forced to take, but by short cuts and taking bad roads, jack could reach it by less than nine miles of traveling. "keep your eyes skinned, tom!" said jack, as he drove along. "i've got to watch the road, and we're in the enemy's country again with a vengeance." chapter vi at the covered bridge there was not a sign of the enemy as they neared the bridge, one of those covered affairs so common a few years ago in country districts. the countryside was serene and undisturbed. "this doesn't look much like war," said jack. "but i guess gettysburg itself looked just as peaceful a few days before the big battle in . you can't always tell by appearances. we'll go pretty easy here, anyhow, until we're certain that it's all right." but the most careful investigation failed to reveal a trace of hostile occupation or passage. at the end of the bridge jack got out of the car, leaving tom binns at the wheel, and ready to start at an instant's notice should there be a sudden attack. "the tracks here don't show anything much," he said, looking up to tom with a puzzled face. "i don't believe anything but a couple of farm wagons have passed this way to-day. if general bliss thought this was his only line of advance, he'd have been certain to have had a few pickets here--or at least one of his scout cars. and i'll swear that nothing of that sort has happened here to-day. they'd have been bound to leave all sorts of traces, that's certain!" "what do you think it means, jack?" "that there's something cooking and on the stove that we don't know about or suspect, even," said jack. "i guess that general bliss gets as good information as we do, and he must have figured out that he wouldn't be able to get here in time. if he went this way, anyhow, he'd have to leave hardport in our possession behind him. and somehow i don't believe he'd do that." "say, jack," called tom binns, suddenly, "i just saw a flash over there behind you--upon that hillock." jack began whistling indifferently. he strolled around, as if he were interested only in the view. gradually he worked over closer to tom and the big car, and then, and only then, he turned so that he could follow tom's eyes with his own. "i don't want anyone that's around here to think i'm looking at them," he said in a low tone to tom. "what does it seem like to you, tom? scouts?" "i think so, jack. i caught just a glimpse, after i called to you, of something that looked like a scout uniform. i think that they're watching us." "that's much better," said jack, greatly relieved. "it didn't seem natural, somehow, to find this place so deserted. say, tom, you can run the car, can't you?" "yes, if i don't have to go too fast." "all right. i'm going to climb in. then pull the hood pretty well over and run her slowly through the bridge. it's covered, you see, and they can't see us after we're on it. then, as soon as we're under cover, i'm going to drop out. they can't see how many of us there are in the car. i'll stay behind, and you run on around the bend, drop out of the car, quietly, and leave it at the side of the road." "will that be safe, jack? couldn't anyone who came along run off with it?" "not if you take the spark plug out and put it in your pocket. that cripples the car absolutely, and you ought always to do that, even if you just leave a car outside a store for a couple of minutes when you go in to buy something. this car is great, too, because you don't have to crank it. it has a self-starting device, so that you can start the motor automatically without leaving your seat." "all right, jack. what am i to do after i leave the car?" "work up quietly into the woods there. when you get up a way, scout down easily, and try to trail them. you'll find traces of them up there on the ridge, i'm sure, if they're really up there. i'll do the same thing from the other side here. i think we've got a good chance to break one of their signalling relays, don't you see?" "i'll take my flags along, shall i, jack?" "good idea! no telling what we'll be able to find out and do here. all right--i'm going to drop out now!" the car slowed down and he dropped off silently, and laughed as he saw tom binns guide the big machine off into the light beyond the covered bridge again. then, the laughter gone from his face, he slipped cautiously back in the opposite direction, and at the entrance to the bridge dropped down to the bed of the creek. the season had been dry, and the water in the creek was very shallow. his plan was definite in his own mind, and he had had enough experience in scouting to know that there was at least a good chance of success in his enterprise, although a difficult one. his destination was the ridge where tom binns had seen the flashing of red and white signal flags. step by step now, climbing slowly and carefully, he made his way up the bank, sure that even if whoever was on the ridge had guessed the ruse of the way in which he had left the automobile, they would not be looking for an attack from the direction in which he was making his stealthy, indian-like advance. another reason for slow and deliberate progress was to give tom binns time to reach the ridge, and take up a position favorable for the playing of his part in the scheme. before him now, as he moved on, he could hear sounds of quiet and stealthy movement, and at last, standing before him, as he peeped through a small opening in the thick undergrowth, he could see a boy scout, standing stiff and straight, and working his signal flags. he had to stand on a high spot and in a clearing to do this, as otherwise, of course, his flags could not have been seen at any distance. jack measured the place with his eyes. his whole plan would collapse if the body of the signalling scout were visible from the next relay stations, but he quickly decided that only the flags would show. from behind the scout with the flags now came the call of a crow--caw, caw, caw! jack grinned as he answered it. for a moment a look of suspicious alertness showed on the face of the blue scout. he whirled around to face the sound behind him, and in the moment that his back was turned jack sprang on him. the blue scout put up a fine struggle, but he was helpless against the combined attack of jack danby and tom binns, who sprang to his comrade's aid as soon as he saw what jack had done. "two to one isn't fair," gasped jack as he sat on his prisoner's chest, "but we had to do it. this is war, you see, and they say all's fair in love and war. who are you?" "canfield, tiger patrol, twenty-first troop, hampton's scouts," said the prisoner. "detailed for scout service with the blue army. you got me fair and square. we caught one of your fellows near mardean, we heard, soon after the war began. sorry--but it's all in the game. "how on earth did you get to me so quietly? i was watching you in the road by the bridge, and i thought you'd gone off in your car. you certainly fooled me to the queen's taste." "fortune of war," said jack. "the car gave us a big advantage. you're not to blame a bit. i guess you'll be exchanged pretty soon, too. we'll give you for warner, you see. he's the one of our troop who was caught. and a fair exchange isn't any robbery." "have we got to tie him up?" asked tom binns. "not if he'll give his parole not to escape or accept a rescue," said jack. "how about that, canfield? will you give me your word of honor? i'm jack danby, assistant patrol leader of the crow patrol of durland's troop, and ranking as a corporal for the maneuvers in the red army." "i'll give you my parole all right," said canfield. he saluted stiffly. "glad to meet you, corporal danby. sorry the tables aren't turned, though. we've got a special dinner for our prisoners to-night--but we haven't caught many prisoners yet, worse luck!" "all right! see if the flags are just the same, tom." tom binns compared the flags captured from canfield with those he himself carried. "they're exactly the same," he said. "we can use either his or ours. it doesn't make any difference." "that's good. stand up there now, tom, and see what's coming. can you see the next stations on both sides?" "sure i can, jack. they're wig-wagging like the very dickens now, asking canfield here why he doesn't answer." "signal that he was watching a grey scout car of the red army, going north," said jack, with a laugh. canfield heard the laugh with a rueful smile. "you're certainly going to mess things up!" he said. "i ought to be court-martialled for letting you break up our signal chain this way." meanwhile tom binns was working his flags frantically. "o. k.," he reported to jack. "message coming!" jack sprang to his side, and together the two red scouts watched the flags flashing in the distance. jack showed a good deal of excitement. "gee," he said, "this is all to the good! that's a message from general bliss himself, i'll bet! see, tom? he's sending orders to general brown, who commands his right wing. they're going to swing around back toward hardport in a big half-circle, of which this place where we are now is pretty nearly the centre. and it's the newville road that's the line of their march, and not this road over the creek at all. that's nerve for you, if you like, because the newville pike is right in our lines, and if we move fast we can turn that right wing right in on their center." for half an hour they stayed there, realizing more and more with every passing minute that the whole blue army was developing a great and sweeping attack on hardport, and in a direction entirely different from that being taken by general bean. the information so far obtained by general harkness obviously was entirely misleading, and in sending general bean to cripple creek, as he had, he had simply deprived himself of a brigade, and, as he would learn in the morning, when the attack would most certainly begin, weakened a vital part of his lines. bean was moving directly away from the spot where the attack would be concentrated, and the enemy would be able, unless something were quickly done, to strike at the unprotected center of the red line, drive right through it, and throw the main portion of his army, like a great wedge, between the two sections of the red forces. jack's face grew grave as message after message confirmed his fears. he looked at his watch. "we've got to get word of this to general harkness," he said. "tom, i'm afraid you'll have to stay here and take chances on being caught. i've got to get back to headquarters and tell general harkness what we've learned here. and if we both go, and leave the relay broken here, they'll smell a rat at once, and investigate. there's enough of a trail here to show a blind man, much less a bunch of scouts who are just as good in their state as we're supposed to be in our own, just what's happened. so you stay here, and i'll take canfield along with me in the car and make my way back to headquarters. you'll be able to leave pretty soon, anyhow, because it will be too dark for effective long-range signalling less than an hour from now. you can do it all right, can't you?" "yes," said tom binns, pluckily. it was plain that he didn't like the prospect of staying there alone, but he could see the necessity as easily as jack himself, and that there was no other way of meeting the circumstance that had arisen. "do your best, of course, to avoid being captured," said jack, as he turned to go, with canfield at his side. "but it will be no reflection on you if you are made a prisoner, and we won't need to feel that they've put one over on us if they catch you. we've got more than a fair return for the loss of even a first class scout in the information that they've unknowingly given us. it may mean the difference between the success and failure of the whole campaign." "you're a wonder, danby," said canfield, as they made their way down to the car. being on parole, of course, and, as a boy scout should always be, honorable and incapable of breaking his given word, canfield made no attempt to escape or hamper jack in any way. "i've heard a lot about you, and i'm glad to see you at work, even if it does make it bad for me. you seem to be able to tell just about what's going on around here. i couldn't do that. i didn't think about the larger meaning of the orders i was passing on." "i may be wrong, you know," said jack, as he waited for canfield to step into the car before climbing into the driver's seat. "i'm really only making a guess, but i think it's a pretty good one. and, anyhow, with the notes i've got for him, general harkness ought to be able to get a pretty good line on what's doing." "he ought to be," admitted canfield, regretfully, but smiling at the same time. "you're certainly one jim-dandy as a scout! i'd hate to be against you in a real war. if you can handle things always the way you've done this time, you'd be a pretty hard proposition in a real honest-to-goodness fight." chapter vii a timely warning jack debated the advisability of meeting general bean and telling him what he had learned, but he decided that since that detour would take up nearly half an hour of time that was now most valuable, he had better hurry right through to headquarters, and carry his news direct to the commander-in-chief. he cared little now for the danger of meeting stray detachments of the enemy. he was not afraid of them, since he knew that they would not, in all probability, be keeping a particularly careful watch for him, and he was confident of the ability of his car to outdistance any pursuit that might be attempted. twice, indeed, as he raced for hardport, he met patrols of the enemy's cavalry, but he was burning up the ground at such a rate that they probably were not able to distinguish the nature of his car, especially as it was nearly dark. "gee, danby, you certainly make this old car go!" said canfield, admiringly. "she's a daisy, too. i never was in a car before that rode as easily as this, and i think you're going twice as fast as i've ever ridden in my life before." going at such speed, it did not take long for jack to reach headquarters. he rushed at once into the hotel, and his earnest, dust-streaked face so impressed the officer on duty outside the general's door that he took jack in at once. "i have the honor to report that i have carried out your instructions, general," said jack. "i have used more than the two hours you allowed me, but i felt that that was necessary." then he explained the capture he and tom binns had effected, and how, by taking the place of their prisoner with the flags, they had been able to discover the enemy's real plans. general harkness wasted no words then for a few minutes. he pressed two or three buttons, and, as staff officers answered, his orders flew like hail. "telegraph general bean to change his route at once," he ordered, "and make newville his objective point, throwing out heavy skirmish lines and advance pickets to prevent a surprise. he will march all night, if necessary--but he must be at newville before five o'clock." the officer who took the order saluted, turned on his heel, and left the room. "direct colonel abbey to bring up his cavalry regiment at once from bremerton," was the next order. "he will march across the line, and then follow it until he reaches the newville pike. thence he will turn to support any movement general bean may find it necessary to make there. colonel abbey will not engage the enemy, however, even to the extent of feeling him out, without direct orders from either general bean or myself. repeat a copy of colonel abbey's orders to general bean." "that's good work, danby, once more," he said, then, turning to jack. "we'd have been in a nice mess if you hadn't discovered that. they masked their turning movement beautifully. if they had got hold of newville and cut general bean off from the main body of this army we would have had to abandon hardport at once. general bean would certainly have been captured, and we would have had to fall back on the capital, with an excellent prospect of being attacked and forced to fight at a great disadvantage on our retreat. as it is, even if general bean is forced to circle around newville, we can concentrate at bremerton and fight on ground of our own choosing, though that would make this place untenable." receiving no further orders, jack remained to listen. he stood at attention, and he enjoyed the experience of being in the room of a general on active service, for the constant stream of orders general harkness was giving was hardly checked at all by his pause to speak to jack and thank him for the good work he had done. "instruct colonel henry to complete preparations for the theoretical destruction of the railroad station, the sidings, and all passenger and freight cars now here," he directed next. "if we are forced to abandon the place, we will leave plenty of evidence behind us that it is no longer of any use to the enemy. rather a dog-in-the-manger policy, i suppose--" this to jack, since the officer had gone to obey the order--"but that's war. if you can't make any use of a town or a lot of supplies yourself, remember always that that is no reason why the enemy should not find them of the utmost service, and see to it that he can get no benefit from them. that was general sherman's way. he left a trail of desolation fifty miles wide wherever he marched with his army, and he was always sure that the enemy, even if he came along after him, would find no chance to live in that country." jack offered no comment at all. he knew his place, as a boy scout, and, while he realized that it was a great compliment for the general to talk to him in that fashion, he had no intention of presuming on the fact. just then an orderly entered. "scout thomas binns, of durland's troop, general," he said, saluting. "he says he has important information." "another of you?" asked the general, smiling as he faced jack. "send him in!" "he was with me in the car, sir," said jack. "i left him behind when i came to make my report." "i have the honor to report, general," said little tom binns, standing at the salute when he appeared, "that the enemy now has reason to believe that general bean is advancing for cripple creek and will camp there to-night." "how do you know that, my boy?" said the general. "the signal station next to me on the side nearest hardport flashed the news that general bean had changed his course, sir," replied tom. "i didn't think they ought to hear that at general bliss's headquarters, so i changed the message in relaying it, and said that it was now positively determined that general bean was heading for cripple creek, and would proceed to occupy the bridge. in fact, i added that his pickets were already in sight." "excellent!" laughed the general. "but how did you get here, my boy? i don't see how you escaped falling into their hands." "that was the last message we got before dark, sir," said tom. "after that we all got orders to report at their scout headquarters, and i decided to try to make my way back here. on the way i ran into one of their outposts, and a man with a motorcycle chased me. but he had a puncture--i think that was because i dropped my knife in the road--and he had to stop to repair that. while he was doing it, i worked up behind him, and i managed to get the motorcycle and came on. i knew he'd have a good chance to catch me, because i didn't know the roads very well." "ha, ha!" laughed general harkness. the incident seemed to amuse him immensely, for he laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks. "i wish i had a whole army of you, my boy. we'd have little trouble with the enemy, then. now you two can go back to bremerton. that is likely to be nearer the scene of battle in the morning than this town, and you have both done a good day's work in any case. i am highly pleased with you. carry my compliments to captain durland, and say to him that i shall be glad to see him in my headquarters in the morning. he will have to find out where they are, for i don't know myself at this moment. i shall probably be up most of the night myself, but do you be off now, and get a good night's rest. you have earned it." so once more jack drove the grey car to bremerton. he was almost reeling with fatigue by this time, for it was nearly nine o'clock, and he had done enough since noon to tire out a full-grown man. "that was mighty clever work of yours with the motorcycle," he said to tom. "how did you ever think of it?" "i didn't want to be caught, jack, that's all. i guess you were right the other day when you said we never knew what we could do until we had to do it. it's certainly true with me, because if anyone had ever told me that i would do a thing like that, i'd have told them they were crazy." "well, whatever the reason was, it was good work. if they'd caught you with your signal flags, they might have smelled a rat, and the best part of our catching canfield was that they didn't know anything about it. that's what made him such a very valuable prisoner for us to have." chapter viii the enemy's trick jack danby was pretty tired after his exertions. captain durland, glad that his troop, except for the one prisoner, poor harry warner, of the raccoons, was still all together under his command in bremerton, found quarters for them in the little village hotel. "we'll turn in early," he said, "and get all the sleep we can. i think there'll be some hard fighting to-morrow, and we can't tell yet what part we'll be called on to play in it when it comes. so we'll get all the sleep we can. i shouldn't wonder if the battle to-morrow began long before dawn. if we can turn the right wing of the blue army, which doesn't seem very likely now, we will want to start the action as soon as possible, because, when you have the enemy trapped, the thing to do is to strike at him just as quickly as you can. every minute of delay you give him gives him just that much more of a chance to get out of the trap." "that means if general bean gets to newville in time, doesn't it, sir?" asked dick crawford. all the scouts had listened with the greatest interest to what jack had told them of his day's adventures. he had been at the very heart of things, and he was able, from the information that he and tom binns had intercepted, to get a complete view of the whole scene of the operations, far superior to that of any of the others, who knew, of course, only what was going on in their own immediate neighborhood. "yes--that's what i mean, of course," said durland. "but it's a forlorn hope. there's a limit to human endurance. even regular troops would call what bean's brigade did before sunset a hard day's work. just think of it--they were in motion before daybreak this morning, ready for their dash across the line. then they marched several miles toward hardport, turned aside for a big flanking movement, and had hardly occupied the city when they were started off for the cripple creek bridge. then they were turned off again from that, and sent to march another twenty miles to newville. that was necessary, of course--they'd have been cut off and captured, to a man, if they'd kept on for the bridge, without even the fun of putting up a fight for their colors. but that doesn't make it any easier work. i know bean--he won't ask his men to do the impossible. and that means that he'll be five miles from newville when morning comes." "then nothing is likely to be decided to-morrow?" said bob hart. "i don't see how it can be. the two armies are playing at cross purposes to-night, you see. unless the blues have corrected their mistake, they will be working on the assumption that bean's brigade is out of it entirely, and that they can eat up the main body of our army, and then turn around and capture bean when they like. while they're working on that idea, general harkness is making a desperate effort to turn the tables on them, and lead them into just the same sort of a trap that jack danby has enabled him to escape. his strategy is perfectly sound, and he can't lose seriously, even if his plan fails. but i think the umpires will call the fight to-morrow a drawn battle." "what will happen then?" "now you're asking a question i can't answer. we've got to wait more or less on the movements of the blue army, you see. after all, we're on the defensive. of course, we've taken the offensive to-day, and on the showing that's been made so far the blues are very much out of it. on the single day the umpires would have to give the decision to general harkness. he's in a better position right now to prevent an attack on the capital itself than he was before the war began." then durland called the order to sound taps, and in a few minutes the troop was sound asleep. bremerton that night was peaceful and quiet. over in the telegraph office watchful soldier operators were at work, but the clicking of their keys did not disturb the scouts in their well-earned rest. for miles all about them there was bustle and activity. troops, exhausted after a day of work that was very real indeed for a good many of the militiamen, clerks and office workers, camped along the roads and took such rest as they could get. this game was proving as much of an imitation of war as many of them wanted to see. they had come out expecting a restful, pleasant vacation, with the thrill of a war game as an additional incentive for them to turn out, but they were finding that it closely resembled hard work--the sort of work they got too little of in their crowded days of office routine. later they would enjoy the recollection of it, but while they were doing it there was a good deal of roughing that wasn't so pleasant. a late moon made the countryside brilliant, and easy to cover with the eye, and when, a couple of hours after midnight, the roll of rifle firing in the distance, coming like light thunder, awoke the scouts, who were sleeping three in a room, many of them rushed to their windows. jack danby shared a room with pete stubbs and tom binns, his particular chums, and he laughed at them. "what are you looking for, powder smoke?" he asked them. "don't you remember that they're using smokeless powder in this war? you couldn't see that firing if it were within a hundred yards." the firing soon became general and jack himself grew interested. "that doesn't sound just like outposts coming together," he said. "it seems to me that it's pretty general firing, as if considerable bodies of men were getting engaged. i'd like to be out there and see what's going on." the distant din increased, and there was no longer a chance for the scouts to sleep. in real warfare tired men, it is said, can sleep with a battle raging all about them, but the scouts weren't inured to such heavy firing yet, and it disturbed and excited them. durland himself wasn't bothered, but he sensed the restlessness of his troop, and he rose and dressed. one by one, too, the scouts followed his example, and gathered on the big veranda of the village inn. "come on over to the telegraph office, dick," said durland. "let's see if we can't find out who's kicking up all this fuss and what it's about." the telegraph wires, which never slept, were clicking busily when the scout-master and his assistant entered the office. "abbey's cavalry running into the enemy on the newville pike," said a tired operator, flicking a cigarette from his mouth as durland spoke to him. "funny, too! we thought he'd join general bean before he saw a sign of the enemy." durland felt himself growing anxious; then laughed at himself for his own anxiety. he turned to find dick crawford at his elbow. "i'm taking this thing too seriously, dick," he said, with a smile. "after all, it's only a game. but i'd certainly like to know the inner meaning of that firing. unless we've been grossly deceived, abbey had no business to bump into any considerable force of the blue army to-night." "i guess we're all taking it pretty seriously, sir," said dick. "isn't that the right way, too? of course, it's only a game--but we might be playing it seriously some time." "you're right, dick," said the scout-master. "we can't take this too seriously. i'm going to horn in here and see if there isn't something we can do." he walked over to the key. "see if you can report my troop to general harkness as ready for any service required," he said. it took some little time for the operator to get the message through. then, however, he sat back with a smile. "i guess they'll be able to use you, all right, captain," he said. "they seem to be a mile up in the air about what colonel abbey's doing. all the colonel can report himself is that he's run into a considerable force, and he's engaging him tentatively. he seems to be afraid of being cut off if he goes on without feeling his way." then followed another delay. "here you are, captain," said the operator, at last. "coming, now!" "take it," said durland. "i can read it as it comes." out of the chatter of the sounding key both durland and dick crawford could make sense. "take your troop up to colonel abbey," came the order. "report to him for any service possible. but detail two scouts, with automobile, to make an attempt to discover the nature of the enemy's operations on the newville road beyond the point where colonel abbey's command has engaged the enemy. general bean is within three miles of newville, waiting for daylight, owing to the firing in that direction. it is most important to apprise him of the actual conditions." "report that orders are received and will be obeyed at once," durland flung back to the operator, and he and crawford hurried from the building to rejoin the scouts, who were waiting eagerly on the porch of the hotel for any news that might come. "get ready to hike," ordered dick crawford, as he reached the scouts. "danby, report to captain durland at once." jack listened to his instructions carefully. "this is a harder job than any you've had yet, jack," said his commander. "but it counts for more, too. are you sure you're not too tired to handle your car?" "not a bit of it, sir!" protested jack. "i've had all the sleep i need. what the general wants to know chiefly is whether there are enough troops of the enemy between colonel abbey and newville to prevent a junction between the cavalry and general bean's brigade, isn't it?" "right! i can't give you any special orders. you'll have to use your own judgment, and do whatever seems best when the time comes. this is the sort of a situation that changes literally from minute to minute, and if i gave you special orders before you started they would probably hamper you more than they helped you." "can i have tom binns again, sir?" "certainly! i'll have crawford tell him to report to you at the garage. overhaul your car carefully--you don't want any little mechanical trouble to come along and spoil your work just as you are on the verge of success." "the car's all right, sir. i went over every bit of it before i turned in. i had an idea i might be called for some sort of emergency work when every minute would count, and she's ready for any sort of a run right now." "good enough! that's the way to be. 'be prepared'--that's a pretty good motto. it has certainly been proved abundantly in the last few hours." it would take the scouts a good three hours to come up with colonel abbey's regiment of cavalry, but jack and tom binns, in the big grey car that moved silently, like a grey ghost, in the moonlight, were well ahead of them as the column swung out of the little town. "well, we're off again!" said jack. "no telling what's going to come up before the night's over, either, tom. we've got a roving commission, with no orders to hold us down, and i'm out to see just as much as the road will show us." "are you going to stick to the main road, jack?" "no. there's a cross road a little way beyond here. if they've blocked colonel abbey's advance on this road, we couldn't get beyond his position, anyhow, and it won't do us any good to get as far as that and no further. it's what they're doing beyond there that general harkness wants to know." "where is the main body of our army now, jack?" "right around hardport. the only troops that are moving to-night are abbey's cavalry regiment, and general bean's brigade. general bean, with the rest of the army closing toward him, is to hold the enemy in check if they occupy newville before we get to the place ourselves. the rest of the army, at hardport, can move to his support, or it can develop a big flanking movement that will bring bremerton into the centre of our line, with the forces toward newville making a sort of a triangular wedge stuck out in front. that wedge, you see, will have the whole army as a reserve. it isn't as favorable a situation as if they had made for cripple creek, for there we would have been in a position to force them back on smithville, where they mobilized." "they'd have gone right into a trap if they had kept on for newville, wouldn't they?" "yes; but that was too much for us to hope for, really. it's good enough as it is. it was general harkness's plan from the first to make a stand at bremerton, unless they gave him the chance to make it an offensive campaign. the mistake we made in sending a brigade to cripple creek more than made up for the capture of hardport, however, and so we lost that chance. if we could have made sure of newville to-night, nothing could have saved the blue army." "who's to blame for that, jack?" "no one. you can't expect the enemy to tell you what he's going to do, and even napoleon couldn't always guess right. i think we'll beat them all right--that is, i don't think they'll get within twenty miles of the capital in the time they've got, even if we get badly beaten in this battle that's starting now." "here we are at the cross roads, jack. which way are you going now?" "toward mardean, at first. i'm going to swing in a great big circle around hardport, and way beyond it. i want to come down on them from behind and see just as much as i can." "if you swing very far around that way it'll take you pretty near smithville, won't it?" "that's just where i want to get, tom. the place to find out what the enemy is going to do is the place where he is doing it, it seems to me." hardport, a patch of light against the sky, held little interest for jack. the road he took swung back toward the state line, so that he passed very near hardport before he reached the road that he and tom had first traveled when they crossed the line at full speed after war had been declared. but mardean wasn't held by the enemy now. the troops that had crossed there had been recalled after the capture of hardport and the wreck of the early blue plans, and some of them probably were in hardport now as prisoners of war, but with none of the rigors commonly attaching to imprisonment to distress them. "this road is safer than it was when we took it before," said jack. "remember how we had to take to the fields a little way along here? that was pretty exciting." "you bet it was, jack! i'm glad we can stick to the roads here." "don't be too glad yet, tom. no telling what we may have to do before the night's over, you know. it's early yet--or late, as you happen to look at it." mile after mile of road, looking like a silver streak in the moonlight, dropped beneath the wheels of the big grey car. they sped around and beyond hardport, and jack, studying his road map, lighted now by a little electric light, began to slow down, since they were in country where it was possible, though not probable, that the enemy's outposts might be encountered. "i've got an idea that they're marching hard and fast to-night," said jack. "somehow, i'm not easy in my mind. i'm afraid they may have had some way of finding out what our army was doing. you know that we're not the only people who can detect concealed and covered movements. and they may be setting a trap for us again, just as they were doing when general bean was drawn off toward cripple creek." "i've lost track of where we're going, jack. where does this road we're on now come from?" "practically straight from mardean. you see, mardean will be about the right of our army to-morrow. a brigade will drop back that way from hardport, if we give up that town in the morning, and the main force will move for bremerton." "then if the enemy should happen to get around this way and break over the state line near mardean, they'd be in a good position to meet us to-morrow, wouldn't they?" "first rate! but that's not the idea, at all. they're all over in the other direction, nearer bremerton, and east of hardport. the trouble colonel abbey encountered seems to indicate that it's their plan to cross in force near bremerton. that's why holding newville would be so important to them." now jack threw in the high speed again. and at once, almost, as the car sped on, something about the song of the throbbing engine bothered jack. in a moment he had shifted his gears, and in another, the car, coughing and rattling, came to a sudden stop. "good thing i heard that," said jack, a few moments later, "or we'd have been stuck properly a few miles further on. won't take me five minutes to fix it now." as he tinkered on the machine, his ears were busy, and he and tom heard the sound of approaching horses in the same instant. at once jack leaped to his driver's seat, and ran the car through an open fence into a field beside the road. "i want to see what's doing here," he said. "that doesn't sound very good to me." the trouble with his engine had been providential, for ten minutes later he realized that had he gone on at full speed he would have encountered the advance guard of at least a full division of the enemy. quietly and steadily the blue troops were marching on. there was purpose in the look of them, and a grim earnestness that made jack whistle. "tom," he whispered, "you certainly hit it! they're setting a trap all right. they're going to cross at mardean and swing around to cut off our troops from bremerton. they've got a nice plan--just to steal our position, and make us fight on our ground--but with positions reversed." chapter ix jack danby's good news hardly daring to breathe lest they be heard, the two scouts waited while the blue troops passed. it took more than two hours for the regiments, marching in close order, to get by them, and it was nearly light when the last stragglers had passed their hiding-place. "gee," cried jack, "that's certainly a surprise to me! say, tom, do you know what they've done? they've buffaloed general bean, and fooled him completely--and our whole army! they've left not more than two regiments there. of course, that was a stronger force than abbey had, but they managed it so cleverly that they're holding up general bean and his whole brigade." "how can that be, jack? i thought the umpires decided on the strength and the probable result of any encounter between the armies--and they surely couldn't decide that two regiments could beat a brigade?" "no--but if the two regiments masked their real weakness so cleverly that they weren't attacked by the brigade, there wouldn't be anything for the umpires to decide--and that's what i'm afraid of. that's clever tactics, you see, and they'd get the credit for it, of course--and they'd deserve it, too. well, here's where we stop loafing. we've got to cut a telegraph wire somewhere and get word of the true state of affairs to general harkness. he can't wait until full daylight to move his troops now." "what good will cutting a wire do, jack?" "lots of good, tom. this car has a regular apparatus for cutting in on a wire, and a set of sending and receiving instruments. if we cut the wire, it goes dead until we connect it with our instruments. then only the section beyond where we cut in is dead. there's a telegraph wire direct from hardport to smithville. cutting the wire is legitimate, even in the war game, because it's necessary to do the actual cutting. it isn't like the railroad, which can be destroyed theoretically, and left actually ready for use." jack had started his car, still running through the fields when the troops had passed, and now, looking carefully at the telegraph poles and wires, he dropped from his seat and, with wire cutters and repair tools, and his pocket set of instruments, he proceeded to put into practice the theory that he had explained to tom. he cut the wire neatly and carefully. then he connected the broken end with his instruments, completing the circuit again, and began calling for general harkness's headquarters in hardport. "see how it's done, tom?" he asked. "easy when you know how, you see." "yes; it's like lots of other things that way, jack. the trouble is you always seem to know just how to do things like that and i never do." "got 'em!" cried jack, enthusiastically, at that moment, and began at once to send his important news. "i want to get permission now to go on and tell general bean what we've learned," he explained to tom as he still waited after sending his message. "then, as soon as i get it, i'll splice this wire and fix it so that the line will be open for regular service again. we don't want to interrupt traffic by telegraph or telephone, if we can help it. but this won't make much difference at this hour of the night. i don't believe that many messages are sent over this wire after midnight as a rule." they had to wait twenty minutes for the reply, but when it came jack was told to use his own best judgment, and that general harkness would rely upon him to get the highly important information he had sent to headquarters to general bean. "i thought we'd be allowed to do that," said jack, after he had put the wire in order again. in the car there was plenty of telegraph wire for repairing lines cut by the enemy, so the task was not at all a difficult one. "gee, jack," said tom, "i've certainly learned one thing lately, and that is that there's nothing you know that isn't likely to come in handy sometime or another. i didn't know you knew as much as this about telegraphy." "i've always been interested in it, tom. it's so fascinating. you can use all sorts of knowledge if you're in the army, too. think of the engineers. they have to be able to build bridges, and destroy them, and erect fortifications without the proper materials. not in this war, of course, but if there was real fighting. these maneuvers are different from the ordinary sort. they're not so cut and dried, and there aren't so many rules. i've read about maneuvers when there were rules to govern every sort of situation that came up--in fact, surprising situations couldn't come up, because everything that was to happen had been worked out ahead of time." "this is better for us, isn't it, jack? i mean, we're really learning how a war would actually be fought." "we're getting a pretty good idea of it, anyhow. it isn't a bit the way i thought it was going to be." "well, we ought to be getting in touch with general bean pretty soon, i should think." "we've got another ten or twelve miles to drive yet. i took a pretty wide swing around, thinking we'd avoid the enemy altogether. instead of that, we bumped right into them. it's surely a good thing we had that little engine trouble. we'd be prisoners right now if we'd been able to go on at full speed, because i don't believe we'd have been able to see them in time to turn around and get away. and we got a much better chance to see what they were up to, too." as they approached general bean's brigade the firing in the direction of bremerton, where colonel abbey had encountered the enemy, began to be audible again. it had died away for a time, and jack had wondered whether abbey had retired. the sound of the heavy rifle fire, however, with an occasional explosion of a shell to make it louder, reassured him. newville was deserted when they entered it, and jack laughed. not a blue soldier was in sight--and yet general bean was waiting for full daylight, convinced that the main body of the blue army was there. "they certainly did make a clever shift," he said to tom. "general bliss has a reputation for moving quickly, and striking like a snake. he covers his movements well, and i'll bet that if we ever do have another war, he'll cut a pretty big figure. captain durland says he's a real fighter, of the sort that was developed in the civil war. some of the best fighters on both sides in that war, you know, were men who never went to west point at all." "the great generals were regulars, though, weren't they?" "most of them, yes. grant, sherman, sheridan, lee--they were all west pointers, and a lot more of them, too. but there were others. they say, in the histories, that a great crisis brings up the men to meet it. it's perfectly true that grant and sherman had been in the regular army, but they had resigned before the war, and they hadn't made good particularly before that, either in the army or afterward, when they went into business. it was the war that made them famous, and a good many others, too." they had turned now toward hardport, and the pickets of general bean's waiting brigade, eagerly looking for the enemy, were in sight. time after time they were challenged and stopped, but jack, despite questions from officers and men, all eager for the news they were sure he was bringing, since his exploits had already won him a considerable reputation in the red army, refused to tell what he knew to anyone save general bean himself. they did not have to go all the way to the rear of the army. general bean himself, small, wiry, active and peppery, met them soon after they had come into the midst of his lines. he was riding his big, black horse, and, although he had had no sleep that night, he looked fresh and ready for another day in the saddle. "hum," he said, pulling his moustache, as he listened to them, "they fooled us, didn't they? captain jenks, you will give my compliments to colonel jones, and instruct him to put his regiment in motion at once. we will occupy newville, and then close in on the enemy, supporting colonel abbey by an attack on the enemy's rear." he rubbed his hands together delightedly as the officer rode off to give the order. "do you know the enemy's position now?" he asked jack. "he's the nut, and abbey and i are the crackers. you've done good work. this is the second time within twenty-four hours that the information you have obtained has rescued us from a situation of a good deal of danger. did you learn what general harkness's plans were?" "he intends moving at once to bremerton, sir," said jack. "the enemy, as nearly as i could guess, was heading for that place, planning to cross the line by the mardean road, and then swing cast to bremerton." "right! that's what they must intend to do. well, i reckon they will find we're ready for them, and that we'll hold a position that the umpires will have to give us credit for." the brigade was already in motion while they spoke. the men had bivouacked in their lines, as they had marched, and the whole section of country was lighted with their fires. in the faint light of dawn, growing stronger every minute now, the twinkling fires had a strange and ghost-like effect. "looks like the real thing, doesn't it?" asked general bean. "i wish i'd had such a chance when i was a boy as you have now. we don't ever want another war--but there's no use acting as if it was beyond the range of possibility, and the next best thing to not fighting at all is knowing how to do it and getting it over quickly when it does become inevitable. if i had my way these maneuvers would take place in a score of different parts of the country every year. it isn't asking much to ask the militia to turn out for one week of the fifty-two, and a week of this sort of thing is worth a year of ordinary drill and theory work in armories. i don't mean that the drill isn't useful; it is. but it isn't everything, as we've seemed inclined to think. this sort of work, and constant practice at the ranges is what makes soldiers. these fellows, if they ever go to a real war, won't have to work any harder than my brigade has had to work in the last few hours. they're so tired now that they haven't got enough energy to know they are tired. they'd just as soon march as rest--and that's the way they ought to be. do 'em good!" jack led the way of colonel jones's regiment into newville, and then turned down the pike. the firing in front was very sharp now. and soon it was redoubled, as the advance of the main body of general bean's brigade came into touch with the blue troops who had so decidedly worried abbey during the night. finally, on the crest of a hill which overlooked the valley beneath, jack stopped the car. "this is a splendid chance to see a battle on a small scale, tom," he said. "there's nothing else for us to do now--we might as well take a look at things." there was light enough now to make it worth while to stop and look on. abbey's men were dismounted. in a field a mile or so back of the line of battle they could see the horses of his regiment, hobbled, and under guard. before them, lower down, was the enemy, doing little of the firing, and with his real strength pretty well masked. and, as they knew, bean's troops were advancing slowly, ready to take them in the rear, and cut them off. "where are the umpires?" asked tom. "they're somewhere around--trust them for that!" said jack. "they're not only supposed to umpire, but they've got to make a detailed report of all the operations to the war department, and criticize everything that both armies do, too. the firing brought them up as soon as it began, you may be sure." slowly but steadily and surely the drama unfolded itself before their fascinated eyes. they could see the slow advance of abbey's dismounted troopers as soon as the firing in the enemy's rear convinced them that the support they had been awaiting had come at last. and before long the enemy was completely surrounded by a chain of red troops, firing steadily. it lasted for nearly twenty minutes and then a bugle blew, over to their right, and in another moment the "cease firing" call had passed from regiment to regiment. the appeal to the umpires had been made, and now the troops that had been seeking all possible cover showed themselves, that the umpires might inspect the position and see whether there was any possible chance for the entrapped regiments of the blue army to extricate themselves. "they hung on too long," said jack. "they ought to have begun their retreat before daylight. then they might have been able to fall back and slip away and around to join the main blue army at mardean. i'm afraid they'll all be written down as captured now." jack was right in his idea, too. the umpires, after a careful inspection of the situation, decided that general bean's tactics had been successful. "you are to be congratulated, general," said a brigadier general of the regular army, the chief umpire, riding up to the militia commander. "a very neat evolution, carefully planned and worked out. we were inclined to think that they had fooled you. abbey was in a bad way until you came up. but you came out very well." chapter x the scouts meet an old friend jack danby's clever scouting had changed the entire situation. the capture of his two regiments made general bliss's situation decidedly precarious. his case was not hopeless yet, by any means, since, as the attacking force, the blue army had been the stronger to begin with, because the war department had so arranged matters that the advantage of position favored the red forces sufficiently to make up for the superior force of general bliss. general bean's quick following up of the information jack had given, however, had enabled the red army to equalize the forces of the contending armies, and general harkness, who threw a cavalry brigade into bremerton within three hours of the timely warning jack sent him, was now in no danger of being forced to fight on ground where his original advantage of position would be transferred to the enemy. now the position was one of open tactics. the lines were drawn, and some sort of a battle would have to be fought, theoretically, before further movements were in order. with bremerton as his centre, general harkness and his army lay directly across the line of the blue advance, already across the border at mardean, and seeking, or intending, rather, to seek the control of the railroad at fessenden junction, a dozen miles back of bremerton. the junction was the key to the situation now, so far as the hopes of the invading forces were concerned. its possession would, theoretically, cut the defenders off from their base of supplies, and, once it was captured, general bliss would force the red army immediately to fall back and occupy the defenses of the capital city itself, since the railroad would enable him to cut off its supplies and advance his troops against it with great speed. that would mean the immediate abandonment of any offensive tactics on the part of general harkness, and would make up for the capture of the two regiments that general bean had sent into bremerton as prisoners of war. but there seemed little chance of an engagement on tuesday. ever since noon the day before, when hostilities had begun, both armies had been constantly on the march. there had been severe fighting, and the plans of the commanders had involved the rapid movement of considerable bodies of troops. as a result, the troops on both sides were nearly exhausted. in the first place, they did not have the stamina that is the portion of regular troops. they were, in the main, militiamen, clerks, lawyers, brokers, and men of that sort, who do not have the chance of regular exercise, and who do not keep such strict hours as do trained soldiers. "there'll be no fighting until to-morrow, in my opinion," said durland, when jack and tom reported to him; "it's a pretty situation as it stands now, but these fellows can't do any more. bean's brigade in particular must be about ready to drop. i never saw troops worked harder. they've done mighty well, and, while there won't be any formal arrangement to that effect, i suppose, i guess that both generals will understand that they can't accomplish any more without some rest. they'd have to recognize that in a war, for the wise general never requires his men to fight when exhausted, except in the case of attack." the scouts retained their headquarters in bremerton, which was now, after the abandonment of hardport, headquarters for the red army, also. but general harkness had his headquarters in tents, despising the chance to use the small hotel of the town. he was exceedingly busy with his plans. general bean had come in from the lines facing the enemy, who had been forced, reluctantly enough, to shift their base of attack, so that newville was the focus of their semi-circular advance. other brigade commanders and other high officers with them had also come in, and for the first time since hostilities had begun, general harkness was able to consult with his subordinate officers. "i guess the strategy of the campaign for the next two days will be pretty well worked out about now," said durland, glancing over toward the tent of general harkness, from which the smoke of the cigars and pipes of the officers was curling. before general harkness's tent two orderlies were waiting. now, suddenly, one of them, evidently hearing a call inside, answered it, and a few seconds later went off. he returned presently with a young officer of militia, and a few minutes later that officer came over to the scout headquarters. "captain durland?" he began, then broke off. "great scott!" he cried, "it's my old friend the scout-master, isn't it? i had no idea it was your troop that was doing so well here." "jim burroughs! is that really you? i'm glad to see you!" exclaimed durland. jack danby, tom binns, pete stubbs and the rest of the scouts, with happy memories of their days at eagle lake, and of the time when they had turned out in the woods at night to search for burroughs and bess benton, crowded around to greet the young militia officer. "i'm a lieutenant in the sixteenth regiment," said burroughs. "captain durland, you're wanted in the general's tent. i went there to make a report, and he asked me to tell you to come to him at once." then the scouts and burroughs, who had nothing else to do for the time, began to exchange reminiscences and talk over old times. "i've been hearing a lot about the good work a scout called danby was doing in one of the new scouting autos," said jim burroughs, "but somehow i didn't have any idea that it was a boy scout they were talking of. but i might have guessed it! if it hadn't been for you when we had the forest fires up at the lake, camp benton would have been wiped out." "oh, i guess you'd have managed all right with the guides," said jack. "you always try to make out that i do more than i do, jim. you must be trying to give me a swelled head." "no danger of that, i guess," said burroughs, laughing. "you're pretty level-headed, young man. by the way, i heard you had some trouble lately with a man called broom. anything in that?" jack's face darkened. jim was bringing up a painful subject. but pete stubbs spoke up for him. "trouble?" he said. "well, i guess yes, mr. burroughs! you heard about how jack broke up the plot to wreck the train and rob it when he and tom binns were on a hike together?" jim nodded. "well, broom was mixed up with that gang in some fashion. then, afterward, we found that he was really after jack. you know all about jack's queer life up at woodleigh--about old dan and all that?" "i know that jack never knew much about himself--his real name and who his mother and father were. you're still trying to find out about all that, aren't you, jack?" "you bet i am!" said jack, his face lighting up at the thought. "and i'm going to do it, too!" "well, this broom," pete stubbs went on, "was trying to find out where jack had gone from woodleigh. he didn't know that our jack was the one he was looking for, or we don't know what he'd have done. so he had a double reason to be after him, though all he knew was that jack might give dangerous evidence against those pals of his who were mixed up with the train business." "i see! he was really playing against himself, without knowing it, wasn't he?" "yes. that was the funny part of it. well, broom and some other crooked people got an old gentleman and his daughter to trust them. the old gentleman, whose name was burton, was looking for a boy, his brother's son, who was kidnaped when he was a baby. we think it may be jack, and we're going to try to find out. broom made the burtons think that he could find the boy they were looking for, and he got a lot of money out of them." "gee, pete, that sounds pretty interesting! was that how the trouble came with broom?" "one of the ways, yes. when we were down at the shore a little while ago they tried to get hold of jack. one night there was a pretty bad storm, and that was the night they picked out. jack and i, with mr. durland and dick crawford, went out to rescue the burtons, who had been left on their yacht, and when we got back some of us caught broom and a friend of his. but they were rescued afterward by the sailors who had quit the yacht, and jack raced into wellbourne, and got most of them arrested. but broom got away, in some fashion, after they had taken him to jail. so we don't know what's become of him." "how about the burtons, pete? have you found out yet whether they're really jack's long-lost relatives or not?" "no, not yet. mr. burton was terribly ill after the wreck of his yacht. he was exposed to the sea and the wind for a long time that night, you see, and as soon as he could be moved, he was sent to europe by his doctor. until they get back we sha'n't be able to tell for certain." "i'm glad they're over there, anyhow," said jack, breaking in. "i think they're safe from broom over there." "i'll tell you someone that isn't glad, though," said red-headed pete stubbs, mischievously. "that's dick crawford!" the assistant scout-master, who hadn't heard the conversation that had preceded pete's mischievous remark, came up just then. "what is it that doesn't make me glad like everyone else?" asked dick, unsuspiciously, and everyone laughed. "discovered, dick!" cried jim burroughs, laughing. "i hear that a certain beautiful young lady has charmed you--the one man i knew that i thought was proof against the ladies!" dick flushed furiously, but he saw that there was no use in attempting to deny the charge. he seized pete stubbs, jestingly, by the neck, however, and shook him hard. "i've a good mind to give you the licking of your young life, you red-headed rascal!" he cried, but there was no malice in his tone, and pete knew that the threat would never be carried out. "i didn't do anything but tell the truth," protested pete. "let go of me, dick! if it wasn't true, you wouldn't be so mad!" "he's right, dick, my boy," said burroughs, much amused. "we've caught you with the goods. it's nothing to be ashamed of--we all do it, sooner or later, you know. you've done well to escape the charms of the other sex so long, it seems to me." then the scouts began to drift away, and dick and jim burroughs were left alone. "did they tell you of the way jack's been pursued by this fellow broom?" asked dick. "they told me enough to worry me, dick. we mustn't let anything happen to that boy." "i'd a good deal rather have something happen to me, jim. but he's shown that he's pretty well able to take care of himself. down at the beach there we all helped, but he was the one who really beat them, after all, when it came to the point. they were mighty determined. i think myself that they know who he is, although jack himself and some of the others don't. but my idea is that there is a very queer secret about him, that they know all about it, and that they think it is to their advantage to keep jack from learning the truth and also to keep those who may be looking for him from finding him." "how about these burtons, dick? do you really think that jack is the boy they're looking for, or is that just one of pete's wild guesses?" "miss burton and i have talked that over two or three times, and while we're not sure, owing to mr. burton's illness, which made it impossible for us to discover certain things which would probably have made matters clear, we both agree that it looks very much as if jack were the one. she thinks so, anyway, and she's quite prepared to acknowledge him as her cousin." "is she pretty, dick, you sly old fox?" "she certainly is, jim! you can't tease me about her. i'm crazy about her, and i don't care who knows it. but she'd never look at me, i know that!" "you can't tell, dick. they're funny that way. you'd never think that bess benton would have any use for me, but we're engaged, and we're going to be married in a few months. never give up hope, old chap! you've got as good a chance as anyone else. what more do you want?" "well, i'm not going to worry about that now, anyhow, jim. she'll be away for some time yet, i'm afraid. and i've got to wait until i'm doing better than i am now before i can even think about getting engaged, much less married." "you can think about it as much as you like, dick, and it will do you good. the more you think about it, the harder you'll work and the better you'll get on. i've found that out, and i guess it's true with most of us." "i guess the council's over, jim. here comes captain durland, and the other officers seem to be leaving, too. i wonder what's doing." "nothing much, probably. but i'll leave you to find out and get back to my regiment." chapter xi an intentional blunder "you're wanted for duty again, jack," said captain durland, when he returned from the council of war in general harkness's tent. "i'm all ready, sir," said jack. "gee, i think i've had it easy, riding around in an automobile, when all the rest of the fellows were scouting on foot." "you'll make up for it, if you have been having it any easier," said the scout-master, with a smile. "this job that you've got on your hands now means a whole lot of work. you're to go to fessenden junction first, and make a detail map of the tracks about the depot there. i don't know just why it's wanted, or why it wasn't done before, but that's none of our business. then when that's done, you're to bring it back here. after that i guess you'll have plenty more to do. but i won't tell you about the rest of it until you've finished that." "am i to go alone?" asked jack. "no. i want it done as quickly as possible, so you'd better take peter stubbs and tom binns along with you. divide the work up and it won't take you very long. that's the easy part of it." the boy scouts had studied map-making from a practical, working point of view, and it was no sort of a job for the three of them to make the required map. "i see why they need this map, all right," said jack. "there are a whole lot of new tracks in here, and the whole yard has been changed around within the last few weeks. that explains it. the old maps wouldn't be of much use for anyone who was depending on them for quick understanding of the railroad situation here." "now," said durland, when they returned, "i've got the most difficult task that's been assigned to you yet, jack. you've got only about one chance in a thousand of succeeding in it, but it's my own plan, and i'll be very pleased and proud if you do accomplish it. i want two of you to take the car, get inside the enemy's lines, with or without the car, as far as you can, and then get yourselves taken prisoners. what we want is for you to be near enough to general bliss's headquarters to get some sort of an inkling of the nature of the attack that will be made. "there is a dangerous weakness of the position here, which could hardly have been foreseen when the campaign was laid out in advance. that is, anyone getting control of tryon creek, which is practically dry in the summer, is in a position to dominate one side of the prospective battlefield. there are two lines of attack open to general bliss. if he chooses tryon creek we must keep him from occupying it at all costs. to do that we would have to uncover the other side--the road from mardean." "i'm to try to find out which line of attack they will follow, then, sir? is that it?" asked jack. "yes. we must know before the actual attack begins, or it will be too late. now i want you to understand my plan. i haven't thought of the details, because they will depend absolutely on conditions as you may find them to be. but here is the outline. three of you will take the car. you, jack, and one other scout will leave that, when there is no longer a chance of continuing to use it, and proceed on foot until you are well within the enemy's lines. then you will manage to get captured, while seeming to make an effort to escape." "are we to give our parole then, sir?" "on no account! but pretend to be frightened and discouraged. that is legitimate. you mustn't give your word not to attempt to escape, because that is an essential part of the plan. i have an idea that they will not keep a very close watch on you, and that you will find it quite possible to make a dash for liberty after dark. but before you do that you must try to discover where the attack is to be made, by keeping your ears open and your eyes as well, for possible movements of guns. then you can try to get away, rejoin the automobile, and get back to our lines. do you understand?" "yes, sir, i do! i think pete stubbs would be a good one to go with me, with tom binns to look after the car, because he knows how to drive it. then if pete and i couldn't both get away, one of us ought to be able to manage it, i should think, anyhow." "that's the reason for sending two of you, of course," said durland. "it's an outside chance, but you've done things almost as difficult. remember that you must exercise the utmost caution. in time of real warfare no enterprise could be more dangerous, and the mere fact that there is no actual danger involved now is no reason for you to grow careless, though i need hardly give you such a warning." "i'll do my best, sir," said jack, enthusiastically. "it would certainly be a great joke on them if we could work it." "well, do the best you can. i don't want you to think that i really expect you to succeed. i think the chances are desperate. but, even if you cannot escape, there will be no difficulty about exchanging you, for we have a great many of their prisoners, including a number of officers, and they will be very glad to get them back. otherwise i am sure general harkness would never have consented to let you make the effort." "if this were real war, and they saw us trying to escape, they would fire at us, wouldn't they?" asked jack. "what i want to know is whether we're assumed to be shot, and have to stop if they see us and get a shot?" "yes, at any range less than a hundred yards. above that range a prisoner escaping is supposed to have a good chance to get away. he has to stop, but need not show himself, and unless he is found he can resume his attempts to escape." then durland explained briefly to pete stubbs and tom binns the parts they were assigned to play in this newest development of the war game, and, thrilling with excitement, they took their seats with jack in the grey scout car. "it won't be dark for a couple of hours yet," said jack. "i think that's a good thing because we couldn't get very far in the enemy's lines with this car in daylight. so i'm going to take a long circle again and come down on them from behind. i'm not sure of where general bliss's quarters are, but i should think they were probably pretty near newville. if we come down the newville pike from the direction of smithville, it will be safe enough. their watch will be closer in this direction, and by going around for about fifty miles we can manage that easily enough." "gee, you talk about driving a car fifty miles the way i would about getting on the trolley car at home," said pete, admiringly. "if you can drive at all, it isn't much harder, if you've got the time, to drive fifty miles than it is to drive five," said jack. "and this time it's a lot safer. it's certainly one time when the longest way around is the shortest cut. we don't want to be caught until about ten o'clock, pete. you understand that." they roared through smithville as it began to get dark, and then down the newville pike. jack slowed down when he was sure that he had plenty of margin in time, and through the growing dusk they saw the campfires of the blue army springing up in all directions before them. "gee, there must be an awful lot of them," said pete. "this is the closest i've been to them since we got started. you know, it makes me feel kind of shivery, even though i know that they won't do anything to us when they do catch us, jack." "that just shows that you really get into the spirit of it," said jack, laughing happily. "if we remembered all the time that this was only a game, we wouldn't be doing things the right way at all. if you feel a little scary, and something like the way you'd feel if it was a real enemy in front of us, it'll only make you a bit more careful, and that's just what we want. we want them to think, when they catch us, that we're surprised and scared, and if we can make ourselves feel that way, so much the better. it's much easier to make other people believe a thing if you half believe it yourself, even if you know down at the bottom of your heart it isn't so at all." a few rods farther on jack swerved the car into a field. "here's a good place to stop, i guess," said jack. "it's pretty quiet here, and we'll get along, pete, and find out as much as we can before we let them catch us. you'll be all right here, tom. turn the car around and keep it right here, no matter what happens. if there seems to be a chance of your being caught, leave the car, but keep the spark plug in your pocket. then they'll find it impossible to do much with it. it's too heavy to do much pushing, and i don't believe you're likely to be seen, anyhow, under the hedge here. we may have to make a mighty quick run for it if we get back here at all." "suppose you don't get away, jack? shall i wait here?" "wait until daylight, no longer. not quite daylight, either. let's see--figure to the sunrise, and wait till half an hour before that. and if you do have to go back alone, don't take any chances at all on being caught. make even a wider circle than we did coming here, and don't go near mardean. the car is a good deal more important than any of us. and don't forget, if you do have to leave the car and take to the woods, to take the spark plug with you. do that, even if you just get out to get a drink at a well, or anything like that. remember that we're right in the heart of the enemy's country, and you can't tell what minute you're likely to be attacked." "all right, jack. i don't believe they'll see me here, either. but i'll do the best i can if they do, and i'll be here, unless they pick me up and carry me away." "that's the right spirit, tom! i think you've got the hardest part of all. pete and i've got something to do, and something pretty exciting, too. but you've just got to wait here in the dark for something to happen." "don't let it get on your nerves, tom," said pete. "it's hard work, but keep your nerve, and you'll be all right. coming, jack? so long, tom!" "so long, pete and jack! good luck! i hope you'll get away from them all right--and get what you're after, too." it was almost pitch dark by this time. the moon would not rise until very late, and the night had the peculiar blackness that sometimes comes before the moon appears. the country was thickly wooded here, which worked to the advantage of jack and his companion. most of the country in which jack had been operating so far had been fairly open, which would have increased the difficulty of their task very much if the scene of operations had not been shifted eastward by the action near newville that morning. "how far are we from their headquarters now, jack?" asked pete. "about a mile and a half, i think, pete. i can't be sure, of course, but i think that's a pretty good guess. i could have run the car a little nearer and probably still been safe, but i didn't want to take chances. if we lose the car we can't get it back. if we're captured, why, they can get someone else to run the car, but we wouldn't be any good if we lost the machine." "we'll want to be pretty careful, though, as we go along, jack." "sure we will! but it won't be any harder than scouting the way we've learned to do, pete. these people aren't looking for us, and we've done a lot of scouting when other fellows who were on the lookout for us knew just about where we were." the lay of the land favored the two scouts decidedly as they made their way onward. they were able to progress through the woods, but they did not have to go so deep into them that they could not observe, as they moved along, the situation in the open country that marched with the woods. in these fields they saw the twinkling of numerous fires, and they judged that the enemy was thick alongside, so to speak. "they ought to watch these woods better than they do," whispered jack. "gee, i can see how their whole camp is laid out! that's one thing they're weak in--and it shows how important it is. they have fine strategy, but they're weak on details, like guarding their camp. if they don't watch these woods better when we start to make our get-away, we'll have it pretty easy." "that looks like headquarters, jack. see, over there?" "you're right, pete. and i'll bet they're planning to move before daylight, too. that's why 'lights out!' was sounded so early. that was the call we heard about three quarters of an hour ago." a light still showed in one of two big, adjoining tents, however, and the sound of voices came distinctly from it. jack waited until they were abreast of the tent. "this will be a good place, pete," he said. "there'll be a guard there. we want to pretend to make a run for it. come on, now--make a little noise!" pete obeyed. the next moment the sharp challenge of a sentry rang out, and a shot followed. jack and pete ran, as if frightened and confused, right out into the midst of the sleeping men, and a moment later they were the prisoners of a group of laughing militiamen. chapter xii a race for freedom "they've got us, pete," said jack, dejectedly. "here, who are you, and where did you come from?" said a sleepy officer, running up. "we've caught a couple of spies, sir," said one of their captors. "we are not spies!" cried pete, indignantly. "can't you see that we're in uniform?" "hello, that's an aggressive young fighter, all right!" said the officer, smiling at pete's red-headed wrath. "no wonder--look at his hair! boy scouts, eh? do you belong to durland's troop?" "yes, sir," said jack. "how did you get here?" "i d--don't know, sir. we hadn't any idea we were right among you till we heard the sentry challenge us." "well, we won't eat you, my boy. no need to be frightened. here, corporal, put them in the guard tent. we haven't many prisoners--i guess we can take them along in the morning and let them see us lick the reds at tryon creek." jack almost betrayed himself by the involuntary gasp he gave as the lieutenant revealed the secret he had taken so much trouble to surprise. here was luck with a vengeance! the very information they wanted was being handed to them on a silver platter. but he managed to restrain his emotions, so that no one should suspect the elation he felt at the discovery. tryon creek! that meant it was doubly important for the news to be carried back to general harkness, for it showed that general bliss had seized upon the weak spot in the red line of defense, the necessity for weakening one spot to strengthen another, and, moreover, that the blue army was far from being out of it as a result of the success of general bean in the minor engagement of tuesday morning. jack nudged pete as they were being led away to the guard tent. and pete nudged back, to show that he understood. that pleased jack, for he knew now that the all-important information had a double chance of being carried to general harkness. if he were baffled in his attempt to escape and pete did manage to get away, the news would go with him. "you two boys can give your parole in the morning," said the young officer. "the guard tent's the only place where there's room for you to-night, and anyhow you'll be just as comfortable there as if you'd given your parole." then he went off, leaving them to the care of the corporal of the guard, who seemed immensely amused. that relieved jack, too. he had feared that they would be offered their parole, and that to refuse to give it would mean an added watchfulness on the part of their captors and jailers, as the blue soldiers had become. now he was relieved from that danger. it was lucky, he thought, that the officer was loose and careless in his methods. in the guard tent they found themselves alone. "guess you can sleep all right in here," said the corporal. "it's a pretty comfortable prison, and there's lots of room. if you get lonely, call the sentry. he'll talk to you." "thanks," said jack. "i'm sure you're very kind." but he was really angry at the condescending way in which the blue corporal spoke. as soon as he was alone with pete he expressed his disgust, too. "gee, pete," said he, "i thought this was going to be hard. it's like taking candy from a kid. they'll catch us if we go up to them and ask them please to do it, just the way we did before. and that corporal was acting as if we were little boys! i hope he finds out some time that we're the ones that spoiled their tryon creek plan for them." "hold on," said pete, laughing. "we haven't done it yet, jack. gee, usually you're the one that keeps me from going off at halfcock. we're not out of the woods yet, old boy." "that's right, too, pete, but he did get my goat. he's so cocky! some of our fellows are a little like that, too, i guess, but i haven't happened to run into any of them yet." "i was just as mad as you were, jack, but we have got a lot to do yet before we get back to tom. how are we going to get out of here?" "cut our way out," he said, shortly. he looked back toward the flap of the tent in disgust. "they didn't even take our knives away from us. i wonder if they thought we were going to stay here like little lambs. and they didn't even ask us for our parole! i'll bet someone will get court-martialed for this--and they ought to, too." still looking his disgust, he began to cut through the stout canvas of the tent. as he had suspected, there was no sentry at all in the rear of the tent, and it was a matter of five minutes to cut a hole big enough to let them get out. "here we go, pete!" he whispered. "we can get away now any time we want to. might as well do it now, too. no use waiting any longer than we have to." they slipped out quietly, within ten minutes of the time when they were put in the guard tent. quietly still, and using every bit of scout craft that they knew, they made their way to the shelter of the woods, wondering every minute why some alarm was not raised. but a dead silence still prevailed behind them when they crept into the sheltering shadow of the trees, and, once there, they straightened up and began to more fast. first they went some distance into the woods, so as to lessen the danger of discovery should their absence from the tent be discovered, and then they struck out boldly in the direction which they had traveled only a short time before, making their way back toward the place where they had left tom and the grey scout car. "gee," said pete, drawing a long breath, "that certainly was easy! you were right, jack. i thought they must be setting some sort of a trap for us. it didn't really seem as if they could be going to leave things fixed so nicely for us. why, they might better have turned us loose at once! then someone with more sense might have picked us up and really held on to us before we could get out." "they ought to be licked for being so careless," said jack. "i'll put everything that happened in the camp into my report. i'll bet the next time they get prisoners, they'll look after them all right! it makes me sore, because they're supposed to be learning how to act in case of a real war just as much as we are, and it shows that there's an awful lot of things they don't know at all." in the east now the first faint stirrings of the light of the coming moon that would soon make the country light began to show. "i'm glad we got through so soon, anyhow," said jack, then. "for tom binns' sake, mostly. it must have been scary work for him, just sitting there in the dark, waiting for us." "he won't have to wait much longer, jack. he's certainly a plucky one! i know that waiting that way scares him half to death, but you never hear a peep out of him. he just does as he's told, and never whimpers at all." "he's got what's really the highest courage of all, though he doesn't know it himself, pete. he's got the pluck to do things when he's deadly afraid of doing them. there are a lot of people like that who are accused of being cowards, when they're really heroes for trying to do things they're afraid of. i've got much more respect for them than i have for people who aren't afraid of things. there's nothing brave about doing a thing you're not afraid of." "there's the car now, jack! we haven't wasted much time coming back, anyhow." jack put his hand to his lips and imitated the cry of a crow. that was the sign of the crow patrol, to which all three of the scouts belonged. "there comes his answer! that means the coast is clear. i was half afraid they might have caught him and the car. it wouldn't have done at all for us to escape as we have and then walk into a trap here--that would make us look pretty foolish, it seems to me." "you're right it would, jack. hello, tom! anything doing here while we were gone?" "not a thing! how on earth did you get back so soon? did you get what you were looking for?" "i guess we did! get the spark plug in, tom, and we'll be off." a few moments saw them on the road again, and moving fast. in the distance now, as they sped along, jack's practiced ear caught a strange sound, and he slowed down so that he might listen the better. "say," he cried, in sudden excitement, "that's another car! and what's an automobile doing here at this time of night?" the same thought came to the three of them at once. "i wonder if it's one of their scout cars," cried tom binns, voicing the thought. "i've been thinking it was funny we hadn't run into them at all, jack." "well, we'll have to look out if it is," said jack. the sound grew louder, and it was soon apparent that the other car was coming toward them. jack slowed down, and kept to a slow pace, keeping his car as much as possible in the shadow of the trees that hung over one side of the road. the other car came on fast, and, as it swept around a bend of the road that had hidden it from them, they were almost blinded by the great ray from the searchlight it carried. jack himself had been running without lights of any sort, for greater safety from detection. as soon as the driver of the other car saw the machine in which the three scouts were riding, he slowed down. it came alongside in a few moments and a man leaned out and hailed jack. "what are you doing here?" he cried, and then, before jack could answer the question: "come on, men, it's one of their cars! we've got to capture them!" as he spoke he slewed his car around, so that it half filled the road, and two men leaped to the ground and made for jack's car. but jack had a different plan. he had no mind to surrender tamely now when victory was within his grasp. in a moment the big grey car shot down the road, and the next moment it was roaring at full speed ahead. behind it, after a stunned moment of surprise and silent inaction, thundered the other car, a scout car of the blue army. "gee, this is going to be a real road race!" yelled jack. "that car is this one's twin. they can go just as fast as we can. and they're stronger than we are, if they ever catch us--three men to three boys. but they'll have to go some to catch us!" for the first time since his dash across the state line when the war began, jack let the grey car do its best for him now. it leaped forward along the road as if it were alive. but behind, going just as fast, keeping the gap between the cars the same, pounded the hostile machine. over roads as empty as if they had been cleared by the police for a race for the vanderbilt cup, the two cars sped, kicking up a tremendous dust, their exhausts roaring and spitting blue flame, and the noise of their passage making a din that jack thought could be heard for miles. only the big metal hood saved them from being cut to ribbons by the wind and the flying dirt and stones that their mad rush threw back from the road before them. but jack had one big advantage, as he guessed. he knew the country better, and he was making baffling turns every few minutes. one thing he dared not do. he stuck to the road, afraid, at the frightful speed, to risk a side trip into the fields, and equally afraid to slow down, since that would mean that the other car, never very far behind, would be able to catch up to them. so fast they went that, by making many corner turns, jack was able to turn completely around without attracting the attention of the pursuing car. he was heading straight for bremerton, finally, and his heart leaped at the thought that this new and unforeseen danger was going to be thrown off. just to lose the car behind would not be enough, he knew. he was playing for high stakes now, and at last he slowed down--not much, but enough to let the other car make a perceptible gain. he felt safe now. he knew that the other car was no faster than his own, though it was just as fast, and if he had even a hundred yards of lead, he was sure he could hold it. other campfires were twinkling near by now. the sentries that guarded them, he knew, would not fail to hear and guess at the reason for the roaring race of the war automobiles. and at last, making the sharpest sort of a turn, he baffled the pursuers. before they realized what they were doing, they were in the midst of colonel abbey's regiment, and a minute later they were forced to stop by a volley of shots, and instead of capturing the red scout car, as they had hoped, were themselves prisoners. "i guess that's going some!" cried pete, as they turned back toward the captured car. "we got the news we were after, and we led one of their scout cars into a trap, too. that's what i call a pretty good night's work. fine business, jack! and that was certainly some ride, too! if you hadn't been able to drive as well as you do, we'd never have got away from them." "we had a lot of luck," said jack. "but it certainly was a great race! i'll be glad to get some sleep, now. that was pretty tiring work." chapter xiii a real enemy jack had led the hostile scout car into the most hopeless sort of a trap. he had twisted and turned and doubled on his course so cleverly that his pursuers had completely lost their sense of direction. in a chase of that sort, with his quarry in front of him, the driver of a racing automobile, making from sixty to seventy miles an hour, has no chance to watch objects about him. there jack's almost uncanny sense of direction and locality had helped him mightily. the speed at which he had driven his car had not at all confused him. he had known exactly what he was doing, and just where he was going, at all times. a few miles had taken him into country over which he had already driven, and his memory for any place he had once seen was phenomenal. so he had been able, by constant turning and doubling, to fool the driver of the enemy's car completely, and lead him, all unknowing the fate in store for him, into the very midst of the red troops. jack had taken his final turn from the road so sharply that it had been impossible for his pursuer to turn quickly enough to follow him. any attempt to do so would have resulted in disaster, and, since this was only a mock war, the driver of the other scout car was not justified in taking the chance of killing himself and his companions in the effort to make the turn. he had gone straight on, therefore, and a few rods had carried him into the midst of abbey's cavalry regiment. a minute was enough to surround his car, and a line of troops in front of him made him see the hopelessness of escape. therefore he stopped and surrendered. jack and his two companions sprang at once from their own car and ran quickly, glad of the chance to loosen their tired and aching muscles, stiff, sore and cramped from the confinement in one position that the wild race had forced, toward the group that was gathered around the captured car. colonel abbey, himself, the type of a true cavalry leader, was questioning the prisoners. "i'm captain beavers, of the regular army," said the man who had driven the car, "detached from my regiment to serve on the staff of general bliss. we were returning from a scouting trip in our car when we ran into this machine, and we chased it. the driver certainly knew his roads better than i did. i haven't had any idea for the last forty minutes of where we were going--i could only see the car ahead, and do all i could to catch it." "how are you, danby?" said colonel abbey, trying to hide a smile. "you'll excuse me, captain, but you remind me a little of the dog that chased the railroad train. you know the old story about the farmer who watched him do it, and, when he got tired, turned around and said: 'what in tarnation do you reckon he'd do with that engine if he caught it?'" beavers laughed a bit ruefully. "something in that, colonel!" he admitted. "i suppose it was a good deal like chasing a bird to put salt on its tail. but it was sheer instinct with us--nothing more. we saw that car start up, and we chased it. a fine lot of trouble it's got us into, too! but i guess we'd do the same thing again, probably." "any of us would, captain," said abbey. "don't feel bad about it. we'll have to impound your car, but if you'll give me your parole, i'll be glad to give you the run of the camp." "thank you," said captain beavers. "i say, i'd like to see the man who led me that chase. i had an idea that i knew something about driving a fast car, but he can show me lots of things i never knew at all." suddenly his eye fell upon jack danby, whose hands gave abundant evidence that he was the chauffeur. the captain's jaw dropped and he stared at the scout in amazement. "you don't mean to tell me that it was you who was driving that car?" he gasped, finally. "permit me," said colonel abbey, smiling. "scout jack danby, of durland's troop, captain, and the operator of our first scout automobile ever since these maneuvers began." "well, i'll be jiggered!" said beavers, speaking slowly. "you're all right, my boy! you drove that car like a lancia. if you entered one of the big road races i believe you'd win it--upon my word i do!" "we had a big lead at the start," said jack; then, flushing a little at this public praise, "you see, the two cars are supposed to be exactly alike, and if one is just as fast as the other, and two of them get into a race, it's only natural for the one that has the start to keep its lead. i don't think i deserve any special credit for that. all i had to do was to keep her at full speed and steer." "yes, but it took more than that to lead us into this little man trap you had ready for us. don't forget that!" "danby," said colonel abbey then, significantly, "you'd better get over to your headquarters and report to captain durland, if you have any information as a result of your trip. he is probably anxious to learn what you have accomplished." jack saluted at once, and turned on his heel. the headquarters of the scouts was a mile or so distant from abbey's camp, so the three scouts got in the car again. "gee," said jack, as he tested his gasoline tank, "we couldn't have gone much farther, that's sure! the juice is pretty low here, and if we had had to go a mile or so farther i don't know what might have happened. i guess he could have put the salt he was talking about on our tails easily enough." "well, he didn't, anyhow," said tom binns. "it isn't what they might have done, but what they did, that counts, jack. i think we came out of it jolly well. gee, but i was scared when that headlight hit us first!" durland was up and waiting for them when they arrived. "tryon creek, eh?" said he, when jack had made his report. "i thought as much. they may have weaknesses of their own in the matter of keeping a close guard, but general bliss doesn't overlook anything in the way of strategy. he is mighty wide-awake on any point of that sort. i think i'll let you drive me over to general harkness's headquarters and go in with you while you make your report in person, jack." general harkness had to be awakened, but he had left orders that he was to be called at once should the boy scouts bring any news, and they had no difficulty in reaching him. "you don't think there can be any mistake about their intention to march by way of tryon creek, do you?" he asked, with a grave face, when jack had finished making his report. "no, general, i do not," said jack, and he explained the manner in which he had obtained his information. "that lieutenant, you see, thought we were pretty well scared, and it never entered his head that we might try to escape," he said. "i've got an idea myself that they haven't found out yet that we've gone, really. there was no hue and cry raised while we were slipping out of their lines and back to the automobile, and i'm sure that we would have heard if there had been any pursuit. it's my idea that they won't discover that we're missing until breakfast. even then, they're not likely to suspect that we know as much as we do, and i don't believe it will occur to that lieutenant to tell anyone that we learned from him where their attack was to be made. he'll probably forget that he said what he did." "i hope so," said general harkness. "in any case we will act on the information. if they knew that you had escaped with that news, i think general bliss would be quite likely to change his plan. but i imagine that you are right about the officer who put you in the guard tent. his every action shows that he is careless and unlikely to think of the really important nature of the disclosure he made so lightly. i think we may assume with a fair amount of safety that they will attack by way of tryon creek, and i shall lay my plans accordingly and mass my troops at that point." jack had referred only incidentally to the race with the other car, but now the bell of the field telephone in the general's tent rang sharply, and an orderly answered it. "colonel abbey, general," he said. "he wishes to know if he may talk to you." jack and durland waited during the conversation that followed. general harkness began laughing in a moment, and, after a conversation of five or six minutes, he hung up the receiver, his eyes wet with the tears his laughter had produced and his sides shaking. "you leave out the most interesting part of your adventures when you think you can, don't you?" said he. "do you know that captain beavers is regarded as the most expert driver of automobiles in the regular army? he invented the type of scout car that is being tried out, and you have beaten him squarely at a game that he should be the absolute master of." "i hadn't heard a word about this," said durland, showing a good deal of interest. "i suppose we never would have from danby," said the general. "that's what abbey said--that was why he called me up." and he proceeded to recount, while jack, embarrassed, stood first on one foot and then on the other, the events that led up to the capture of the enemy's car, as abbey had learned them from captain beavers. far from being sore at his capture, beavers regarded the whole affair as a fine joke on himself, and was only eager to find listeners who would give him a chance to repeat the story. "that was fine work, jack," said the scout-master, his eyes showing how proud he was of the scout who had done his duty so well. "you accomplished something to-night that general harkness and i were agreed was next door to impossible." "it certainly seemed so to me," said the general, nodding his head. "but we needed that information badly, and i was ready to consent to any plan, however desperate the chances of success seemed to be, if it gave us even an outside chance to learn what it was that the enemy intended to do. we couldn't defend tryon creek and the mardean road together, though we could block either one or the other, if we only knew where to look for the attack. as it is, thanks to what you have brought back, i think that we need have no fear of the outcome of the battle." general harkness, once aroused, and understanding what he had to do, stayed up. it was no time for him to sleep, and, as was presently proved, the army had had all the rest that was its due that night. for even as jack and durland made their way back to their own headquarters, the bugles began to blow, and the sleeping ranks began to stir all over the great encampment. the transition from sleep to wakefulness and activity was brief enough. the bugles, blowing in all directions, aroused the sleepers, and soon all was bustle and apparent confusion all over the camp. but it was only apparent. soon ordered ranks appeared, and all around the odor of frying bacon, and the aroma of coffee told of breakfast being cooked under the stars and the late moon, for it was recognized that there might be hard marching and plenty of it before there would be a chance for another meal. two brigades were to start at once on the march to tryon creek, and general harkness had ordered that the men eat their breakfast and receive a field ration before the march began. "i guess we can turn in," said jack to pete and tom, with a sigh of utter weariness. "seems funny to be going to bed when everyone else is getting up--but they got in ahead of us on their sleep, so i guess it's our turn all right." "me for the hay, too!" said pete stubbs, without much thought for elegance of expression, but in such a tone as to convince anyone who heard him that he really needed sleep. as for tom binns, he hadn't been more than half awake since he had tumbled out of the car after the race, and he was leaning against a post, nodding, when the others aroused him to go upstairs. the bustle and din of the army getting underway didn't keep jack and his companions from sleeping. they cared little for all the noise, and even the rumbling of the gun caissons as the artillery went by was not enough to disturb them at all. when jack awoke it was broad daylight. he sprang to the window and looked out, to see that the sun was high, and that it must be after noon. in the distance the sound of firing told him that the troops were finding plenty of action. but the village street of bremerton was deserted. there was no sign, except a litter of papers and scraps, that an army had ever disturbed the peace of the little border line village. "here, pete, wake up!" he cried. "the whole army's gone--and we're left behind! let's get dressed and see if there are any orders down below for us." pete got up, shaking his tousled red head disgustedly. he struggled over to the window, and a moment later a sharp cry from him brought jack to his side. "jack! look! over there--looking up this way, now. see, it's broom!" jack looked. there could be no doubt about it. the man who was lounging across the street was broom, the villain who had escaped after jack had caused his arrest at wellbourne, and who had more than once tried to harm jack and his friends. "you're right, pete," said jack, quietly. "it's broom!" chapter xiv a parley with the enemy even tom binns, sleepy as he was, and hard as it usually was to arouse him, was wide awake as soon as he heard what his companions had seen. "broom!" he cried. "what's he doing here?" "i don't know," said jack, as he dressed hurriedly. "but i guess we'll soon find out, unless he's changed his ways. whenever he appears it's a first-rate sign that there's trouble in the air. he's as good as a storm warning. whenever you see him, look out for squalls, and you're not likely to be disappointed." "he won't try to make any mischief here, with a whole army ready to drop on him if he starts anything," said pete. "i believe he's all sorts of a scoundrel, and he's got plenty of nerve--but not enough for that." "that's what we thought at the seashore, too, pete, didn't we?" said jack. "but he made trouble, all right, and it was only by good luck, really, that we got on to what he had in his dirty mind and stopped him." "yes, that's so, too, jack. gee, i wish i was a little bigger--i'd jump him myself and do all i could to lick him within an inch of his life!" "what do you think we'd better do, jack?" asked tom. "we've got to find out first what orders there are from captain durland. then we can tell better. if broom leaves me alone, i won't do anything about him. we're on active duty now, and we're not supposed to let any of our private affairs interfere with our duty. we're just as much bound to obey orders as if the country were really at war." "i'm not worrying about interfering with him, jack," said pete, with a grin. "i'm perfectly willing to let him alone--in this state. his pull is in good working order here, you know. it wouldn't do any good, even if we did have him arrested. i don't believe he'd ever be taken back to wellbourne for trial, because he and his gang know that there's a good chance that he might be sent to prison if he were ever taken there. but suppose he interferes with us? that's just what he's here to do, i think, if the way he always has acted is any guide to what he's likely to do now." "well," said jack, "all we can do is to mind our own business and pay no attention to him at all, pete, unless he bothers us. if he lets us alone, why, we'll do the same by him." then they went downstairs, and jack found a note left for him by durland. "i have left orders that you are not to be awakened, unless you wake up yourselves, before three o'clock," the scout-master had written; "you three have had plenty of work, and you are entitled to a good rest. the troop will be on scout duty near tryon creek, but your orders are to use the car, and reconnoiter in the direction of mardean. the fighting will swing the blue center over in that direction, unless we are badly beaten, and your orders are to keep a close watch on the roads leading to fessenden junction. it is possible that general bliss may make a raid in that direction, probably with his cavalry brigade. timely warning of any such plan is important, as it is not desirable to detach any considerable number of troops to guard the junction." "what would they want to make a raid toward the junction for?" asked pete, after jack had shown him the note. "why not, pete?" "a cavalry brigade couldn't hold it a day, jack. we would drive them out in no time at all. don't you think so?" "well, even so, a day would be enough to do an awful lot of damage. they could destroy the station,--theoretically, of course,--tear up miles of track, burn all the cars there, and destroy or capture and carry off with them a great many of our reserve stores. that was why our capture of hardport was such a blow to them. we didn't hold it very long, of course, but it wasn't much use to them when they got it back." "i see, jack. yes, they could do a lot of mischief." "you see, pete, as it is now, even if we're beaten, we can fall back on the junction, hold it with a relatively small force, and retreat on the capital and the inner line of defenses. but if our supplies and the railroad cars, and everything of that sort that are massed there were rendered useless by being marked destroyed, we couldn't do anything but make our way back toward the capital as best we could, with a victorious enemy harrying us all the way, which is a bad situation in warfare." "shall we cook breakfast for ourselves, jack?" "no! on account of broom. captain durland will understand. we'll get our breakfast here. i think that's better. if he's waiting for us, we'll give him a good long wait, anyhow." "fine, jack! i think that's a good idea, too. gee, but i hate that man!" "i can't say i exactly love him, myself, pete. i wish i was big enough to have it out with him with my fists. that's certainly one fight that i wouldn't have any regrets for after it was over." they had an excellent breakfast, and then they went out in the street together. broom was still waiting, and save for one or two of the idlers commonly to be seen in a little country town, he was about the only person in sight. he came over toward them at once. "don't shoot, colonel," he said to jack, smiling amiably. "i ain't looking for no more trouble. i've been up against you and your pals often enough now to know that it don't pay to tackle you. you're too much class for me, and i'll give you best." "we don't want to have anything to do with you," said jack. "we know the sort of a man you are, and you'll get your deserts some time. but right now, if you'll let us alone, we'll do the same for you. we've got other things to do beside talk to you. good-day!" jack really was rather relieved at broom's pacific advances. he had not known what to expect from his enemy's appearance, and he knew that if broom had any considerable number of his allies on hand, he and his companions would not be able to make a very effective resistance, try as they would. after all, they were only boys, though in some respects they had proved that they could do as well as men, and broom and his fellows were grown men, without scruples, who had no idea, apparently, of what fair fighting meant. but though he was secretly pleased, he did not intend to let broom see it, and moreover he felt that he must be constantly on the lookout for treachery. "no use bearing malice and hard feelings," said broom. "we never meant to hurt you, my boy. you'd have been safe enough with us, and, as you wouldn't come willing, we tried to get you to come the other way. we didn't do it, so you've got no call to be sore." "i've had plenty of samples of your good intentions," said jack, his lip curling in a sneer. "i'm not afraid of you, but you can't fool me with your soft, friendly talk, either. i know you, and all about you, and i'll thank you to keep away from us. we aren't going to stay here, anyhow, and we haven't got time to talk to you, even if we wanted to." "yes, you have!" said broom, suddenly, coming close to jack and dropping his voice. "suppose i told you that i knew all about you, and could tell you who you were and everything else you want to know? you'd have had a better time at woodleigh if you'd had a name of your own, like all the other fellows, wouldn't you? you know you would! well, that's what i can do for you, if i want to. now will you talk to me?" "if you know all that about me, why don't you tell me?" asked jack. despite himself, he was curious, and he was forced to admit that broom interested him. the secret of his birth, which seemed resolved to elude him, was one that he would never tire of pursuing, and he was ready to make use of broom, villain though he knew him to be, or anyone else who could shed some light on the mysterious beginnings of his life. "i can't tell you now and here," said broom. "but i tell you what i'll do. meet me here to-night at eleven o'clock, if you're off duty, and i'll tell you the whole story. it's worth your while to hear it, too, i'll promise you." "i'm likely to do that," said jack, with a laugh. "do you know that sounds like 'will you walk into my parlor? said the spider to the fly.' you must certainly think i'm an easy mark if you think i'll go into a trap you set as openly as that! not if i know myself!" "you think you're mighty smart, don't you?" asked broom, his face working with disappointment and anger. "i'm not setting any trap for you. if i'd wanted to do that, i couldn't have had a better chance than there was here this morning, when your scouts and all the rest of your people went off and left you behind. if you're scared to come alone, bring anyone you like--durland, crawford, or anyone. bring them all--the whole troop! i don't care! but come yourself, or you'll always be sorry!" jack was impressed, despite himself, by the man's earnestness. he knew that broom had been crooked in many ways, and he knew, also, that captain haskin, the railroad detective, had given him the reputation of being a clever criminal, whose scruples were as rare as his mistakes. but there was some truth in what the fellow said. had he meant to make any attempt on jack's liberty, he had already let the best chance he was likely to have for a long time, slip by. "i'll think it over, and talk to captain durland about it," he said. "i won't promise to be here, but i may decide to come, after all." "that's better," said broom. "you think it over, and you'll see i'm right. if i wanted to hurt you, i'd have done it before this." "one thing more, broom. if i do come, i shall certainly not be alone. and if you try any tricks, it won't be healthy for you. i know you're not afraid of the law in this state, but i've got friends that won't be as easy on you as the police. and i'll have them along with me, too, if i come, to see that you don't forget yourself, and go back to some of your old tricks. if you're ready to take the chance, knowing that, i may come." "you surely won't think of meeting him, will you, jack?" asked pete, in deep anxiety, after this conversation was ended and broom had taken himself off. "i didn't offer to butt in, because i thought you could handle him better by yourself. but you won't let him take you in by just pretending that he's got something to tell you?" "i shan't meet him alone, anyhow, pete. but i don't know whether he's just pretending or not, you see. the trouble is this mystery about me is so hard to untangle that i hate to let even the slightest chance of doing so pass." "i know, jack, but please don't take any chances. you know what he's tried to do to you before, and i'm certain this is only some new trick. he's probably tickled to death to think that you didn't turn him down absolutely." "i'll promise you one thing, anyhow, pete. i won't make a move toward meeting him, nor have anything to do with him, without telling dick crawford and mr. durland about it first. and i won't do anything that they don't thoroughly approve of. will that satisfy you?" "sure it will, jack! thanks! i hate to seem like a coward, but i'm a lot more afraid for you when you're in some danger than i would be if it were myself. that's why i'm so leery of this fellow broom. i'm sure he means some sort of mischief, and i surely do hope that mr. durland and dick crawford will make you feel the same way about it that tom binns and i do." "what, are you in on this, too?" asked jack, with a smile, turning to little tom binns. "i certainly am, jack!" answered tom. "i think pete's quite right." then they got the car, and took the road for mardean, prepared to turn back when they reached the right cross roads, and scout along toward fessenden junction. before them, on the other branch of the mardean road, toward tryon creek, there had been heavy firing. that had gradually died away, however, and presently, as they sped on, they met a single soldier on horseback. it proved to be their friend, jim burroughs. "hello, lieutenant!" called jack, cheerily, as he stopped his car and saluted. "how is the battle going?" "fine and dandy," returned jim burroughs, reigning up his horse. "we got to tryon creek, and we licked them there. they didn't come along for more than two hours after we were in position. the umpires stopped the fighting after a while, and gave us the decision. i don't see how they're going to get through to fessenden junction, and, if we hold them on this line, they'll never get near enough to the capital even to threaten it, that's one sure thing!" "i'm certainly glad we got the true news," said jack, after jim burroughs had ridden on. "it would have been fierce if that fresh lieutenant had been wrong himself, and we had given our own army false information that would have enabled them to beat us. but it's all right, as it turns out, and i guess that they haven't got any chance at all of beating us now." "i'm glad of that, too," said pete. "we certainly took enough trouble to get the right dope, didn't we?" chapter xv a decisive movement pete stubbs was secretly glad that the scouting trip toward fessenden junction had been ordered. he was terribly afraid of the consequences to jack should he accept broom's defiance and meet him that night, and he did not know whether durland and dick crawford would share his views. so he hoped that the work in the scout car would distract jack's mind and lead him to forget his promise to broom to see what the scout-master and his assistant thought of the plan. as the car made its swift way along the roads towards fessenden junction, the sound of firing constantly came to them. "i thought jim burroughs said the fighting had been stopped," said tom binns. "the main bodies were stopped, but that doesn't mean the whole fight is over," explained jack. "bean's brigade, you see, probably hasn't been in action at all yet. his troops were not among those sent to tryon creek, and he has to cover the roads leading in this direction. it's just because general harkness is afraid that some of the blue troops may have been detached to make a raid by a roundabout route that we are coming over here." "suppose we ran into them, jack? would we be able to get word back in time to be of any use?" "why not? this is our own country. we have the telegraph and the telephone wires, and the railroad is within a mile of general harkness's quarters at tryon creek. all he needs to do is to pack troops aboard the trains he undoubtedly has waiting there and send them on to fessenden junction. we have the same advantage here that the enemy had when they held hardport. then we had to move our troops entirely on foot while they could use the railroad, and move ten miles to our one. now that position is reversed--as long as we hold the key of the railroad situation, fessenden junction." the road to fessenden junction was perfectly clear. they rolled into the busy railroad centre without having seen a sign of troops of either army. a single company was stationed at the depot in fessenden junction, impatient at the duty that held it there while the other companies of the same regiment were at the front, getting a chance to take part in all the thrilling moves of the war game. jack told the officers all he knew as they crowded around his car while he stopped to replenish his stock of gasoline. there was little in his narrative that had not come to them already over the wires, but they were interested in him and in the scouting car. "we've heard all about you," said a lieutenant. "you've certainly done yourself proud in this war! they tell me that the car will surely be adopted as a result of your success with it. do you know if that's so?" "i hadn't heard, lieutenant," said jack, his face lighting up. "but i certainly hope it's true. it's a dandy car!" "you didn't expect to see anything of the enemy the way we came, did you, jack?" asked pete stubbs, when they were in motion once more. "no, i didn't, pete. but it was a good chance to study a road we didn't know. we may have considerable work in this section before we get through, and i want to know the roads. that road, of course, is guarded this morning by general bean's brigade. it would take more than a raiding cavalry brigade to break through his line and make for the junction this way, and if general bliss sent troops to fessenden, they wouldn't stop to fight on the way. they would choose a road that was open, if they could, or very weakly defended, at least. otherwise they'd be beaten before they got here. even a couple of regiments would be able to hold up a brigade, no matter how well it was led, long enough for general harkness to find out what was going on and occupy fessenden junction in force." "where are you going now, then?" "east of bremerton, on the way back. i know that isn't exactly orders, but it seems to me it's common sense. general bliss had a long line this morning, and mardean was practically its centre. hardport had become his base again. he's held hardport now for two days, practically, and he's had time to repair all the damage we did. why shouldn't he have thrown his brigade, if he planned a raid on the junction at all, thirty miles east from hardport, to swing across the state line at about freeport, cut the railroad east of fessenden junction, and so approach it from the east, when everyone expects an attack to be made from the west?" "that would be pretty risky, wouldn't it, jack?" "certainly it would--and yet, if he could fool everyone into thinking he was going to do just the opposite, it would be the safest thing he could do. you see, all the fighting to-day has been well west of bremerton and fessenden junction. our orders were to do our scouting on the western side of the junction. i've obeyed those orders, and i haven't found out a thing. now i think i've a right to use my own discretion, and see if there are signs of danger on this side." "gee, that certainly sounds reasonable, jack! they've been doing the thing that wasn't expected ever since the business started. i guess they're just as likely as not to keep on doing it, too." "we ought to know in a little while, anyhow, pete. i'm going to circle around here, strike a road that runs parallel to the railroad as it runs east of the junction, and see what's doing." jack hurried along then for a time, and none of those in the car had anything to say, since, when jack was pushing her, the noise was too great to make conversation pleasant or easy in any sense of the words. they were in the road now that ran along parallel with the railroad that, running east from fessenden junction and away from the state capital, which lay southwest of that important point, approached gradually a junction with the main line of the railroad from hardport at freeport. jack was keeping his eyes open. he hardly knew what he expected to see, but he had an idea that there would be something to repay their trip. and, about fifteen miles from fessenden junction, the soundness of his judgment was proved once more. "look up there!" cried pete, suddenly. the eyes of three scouts were turned upward in a moment, and there, perhaps two miles away, and three hundred feet above them, they saw a biplane hovering. "gee!" cried jack. "that's the first we've seen in the air--a blue biplane! none of our machines would be in this direction." swiftly he looked along the fence until he saw an opening. "here, jump out and let those bars down!" he cried, stopping the car. the others obeyed at once, and in a moment he ran the car gently into the field and stopped beside a hayrick. "sorry to disturb the farmer's hayrick," said he, then, jumping out in his turn, "but this is important!" and a moment later the three scouts, following his example, were as busy as bees, covering the grey automobile with new hay, that hid it effectually from any spying eyes that might be looking down on them from above. "now we'll make ourselves look small," said jack. he looked around the field. "i shouldn't wonder if they picked this out for a landing spot, if they decide to land at all," said he. "we want to see them if they do anything like that, and hear them, too, if we can. we may want to find out something from them." swiftly, then, they burrowed into the hay. they could look out and see anything that went on about them, but unless an enemy came very close, they themselves were entirely safe from detection. "now we'll know what they're up to, i guess," said jack, with a good deal of satisfaction. "it's a good thing i sort of half disobeyed orders and came this way, isn't it?" "you didn't really disobey orders, did you, jack?" asked tom. "no, i didn't, really, tom. i did what i was ordered to do, but i did something more, too, as there was no special time limit set for the job they gave us. but a scout is supposed to use his own judgment a good deal, anyhow. otherwise he wouldn't be any use as a scout, so far as i can see." it was very quiet in the hay. but above them, and sounding all the more clearly and distinctly for the silence that was everywhere else, they could hear the great hum of the motor of the aeroplane. with no muffler, the engine of the flying-machine kicked up a lot of noise, and, as it gradually grew louder, jack was able to tell, even without looking up, that it was coming down. "by george," said he, "i think they are going to land! they're getting more cautious, you see. they scout ahead now, and they're using their war aeroplane the way we have been using this car of ours." "what are our flying-machines doing, jack? i haven't seen them on the job at all." "general harkness is using them in the actual battles. they go up to spot concealed bodies of the enemy, so that our gunners can get the range and drive the enemy, theoretically, out of any cover they have found. that's one of the ways in which flying machines are expected to be most useful in the next war. you see, as it is now, with smokeless powder and practically invisible uniforms, ten thousand men can do a lot of damage before anyone on the other side can locate them at all. but with a flying-machine, they won't be able to hide themselves. a man a thousand feet above them can see them, and direct the fire of artillery by signals so that the troops that were in entire security until he discovered them can be cut to pieces by heavy shell fire." "that's what our men have been doing, eh?" "yes--and theirs, too, mostly. this is the first time i've seen one of their machines scouting. look out now--keep quiet! they're landing, and they're not more than a hundred feet away!" the scraping of the flying-machine, as it came to rest in the field, was plainly audible as the scouts stopped talking and devoted themselves to listening intently. also, by craning their necks a little, though they were in no danger of being seen themselves, they could make out what the two men in the aeroplane were doing. "pretty lucky, bill!" said one of them. "this is a good landing-place, and we can get an idea of the situation and cut the telegraph wire to send back word." "right, harry!" said the other. "i guess the coast is clear. the brigade isn't more than five miles back, and with three train loads, they'll be able to make that fessenden junction look like a desert before night--theoretically." "it's all theory, bill, but it's pretty good fun, at that. i tell you, we would be in a tight place if they'd guarded this approach at all. that brigade of ours would be cut off in a minute. but if we can mess up fessenden junction for them, they'll be so busy trying to cover their line of retreat that they won't have any time to bother about our fellows." "what's the matter with that engine, anyhow?" "nothing much, i guess. but sometimes, if she starts missing, the way she did when we were up there, you can fix things and avoid a lot of trouble by a little timely tinkering. i was up once when my engine began missing that way, and i didn't pay any attention to it. then, about twenty minutes later, she went dead on me while i was over the water, and i had to drop, whether i wanted to or not. the water was cold, too, i don't mind saying." "you hear that?" said jack, in a tense whisper. "now, as soon as they go, we've got to destroy that railroad track, right across the road. we may have half an hour; we may have only a few minutes. and while two of us do that--you and tom, pete--the other will have to cut the telegraph wire and send word to fessenden junction. general bean is in the best position to get over there. i don't think we can hold them up more than an hour or so, but that ought to be enough. at least, if there's nothing else to be done, the fellows at fessenden junction can tear up a lot of track." for five breathless minutes they watched the two aviators tinkering with their engine. then the big bird rose in the air again, and winged its way eastward. in a moment jack was out of the hay and calling to his companions to follow him. "get your tools from the car, now," he said. "mark a rail torn up for every ten minutes you spend there. i'll get busy with the telegraph wire." it took jack twenty minutes to finish his task, which was exceedingly quick work. but he had had practice in it, and he worked feverishly, since he did not know at what minute they would be surprised and forced to abandon the task by the on-coming enemy. ten minutes after he had completed his part of the task, when, theoretically, the others had been able to destroy three lengths of rail, and had left a pile of smouldering brushwood as proof that they had had time to build a fire of the ties, they heard the hum of approaching trains along the rails. "all right!" cried jack. "this is as far as they can go now until they make repairs. it's time for us to be off!" and he led the way swiftly toward the car, still hidden in the field. swiftly he adjusted the spark plug, which he had carried with him, and, just as the first of the trains from the east appeared in sight, the car was ready to move. but jack, instead of returning to the road, and retracing his course toward fessenden junction, headed north across the field, toward the state line. "i'm going to take a short cut to general bean's brigade and get him word of the chance he has to end things right now," he cried. "if he can capture this brigade of the enemy, the war will be as good as over. it's the best chance we've had yet." jack knew the country perfectly, and soon he was on a country road, which, while it would have been hard on the tires of an ordinary car, was easy for the big scouting machine. they made splendid time, and in an hour they were in touch with the outposts of general bean's troops, waiting, since the attack of the enemy in front had ceased, for any news that might come. "i've just heard that the enemy is threatening fessenden junction from the east," the general told jack, when the boy scout made his report. "yes, general," said jack, eagerly. "and the roads are open in this direction. they will not be able to get very far along the railroad. the troops in fessenden junction will undoubtedly cut the tracks, just as we did, somewhere near the village of bridgeton, and that will be a splendid place to make a flank attack. they won't be expecting that at all, and i think you can finish them up." general bean reached at once for a field map. "you've got it!" he cried. "that's just what i'll do!" and in a moment he had given his orders accordingly. ten minutes later the troops were on the march, and jack was scouting ahead, to make sure that no shift of the enemy's plan had made it impossible for his idea to be carried out successfully. bean's troops marched quickly and well, and within two hours they were in touch with the enemy, near bridgeton. jack and his companions, in the rear, heard the sound of firing, which soon became general. and then, unhampered, jack sped for the place where he had already cut the railroad, and, in two hours theoretically destroyed nearly half a mile of track. "they're in a trap, now," he cried. "they'll never get by here!" chapter xvi the peril in the woods it was nearly seven o'clock that evening, and quite dark, when jack and the others rejoined the main body of the troop of scouts at bremerton. durland was full of enthusiasm. "the war is as good as over," he said, happily. "we've licked them utterly! it's just a question now of what they'll be able to save from the wreck. the brigade that made the raid toward fessenden junction was annihilated by bean, cut off, and forced to surrender. general bliss is in full retreat upon hardport from mardean, and the invasion has been repelled. our cavalry is pursuing him, and i think we will be in hardport again to-morrow. whatever fighting remains to be done will be on their side of the line, and the capital is safe." "will there be any more fighting to-night, captain?" asked jack. "only by the cavalry. they are worrying bliss as much as possible in his retreat, and we'll probably pick up a few guns. we outnumber them decidedly now, as we have taken nearly eleven thousand prisoners in the last two days, and there is no chance at all for them to take the offensive again. general bliss will be lucky to escape the capture of his whole army. one of the umpires told me to-day that our success was due entirely to the speed and accuracy with which we got information of the movements of the enemy, which seemed to him to be remarkably well covered." "that's what jack danby's done for us," said dick crawford. "he's certainly proved that the scout car has come to stay. and it was more or less by accident that he got the chance to handle it, too." "that's true," said durland, "but a great many men have opportunities just as good, and can't make use of them. it's not how a man gets a chance to do things that counts, it's the way he uses the chance when he gets it. and that's where jack's skill and courage have helped him. you've covered the troop with glory, jack, and we're all proud of you." "is there anything more for us to do to-night, sir?" "no, indeed! i think everyone feels that the boy scouts have done rather more than their share already in the fighting we've had, and have been very largely responsible for our victory. there may be more work to do to-morrow, but i doubt it. i think myself that the umpires will call the invasion off to-morrow, and devote the rest of the time to field training for both armies, working together. "about all the lessons that the war can teach have been learned by both sides already, and the training is useful, even when the war game itself is over. that's only a guess, of course, but if we are in a position to-morrow that leaves general bliss as small a chance for getting away as seems likely now, i think the umpires will feel that there is no use in going through the form of further fighting. we are masters of the situation now, and our superiority in numbers is so great that there will be very little that is instructive about a further campaign." then jack asked captain durland and dick crawford if he could speak to them apart, and when the scout-master consented, he told them of his interview with broom. "that's a queer shift for him to make," said durland, thoughtfully. "it's true, of course, that he was in a good position to make an attack on you this morning. but it's also possible that he was alone, and didn't have any help handy. i don't think he'd ever try any of his dirty work single-handed. he's a good deal of a coward, and he likes to have a lot of help when he tries anything, so that there is practically no chance for his opponent. his idea is to fight when he is in overwhelming force, and only then. what do you think of it, dick?" "i don't trust him, sir, and yet, if it is at all possible that he has given up his designs against jack and is willing to tell him what we are so anxious to find out, it would be a great pity to let the chance slip." "that's what i think, sir," said jack. "pete stubbs and tom binns heard him, and they think i ought not to meet him. but i'm afraid he's right, and that if i didn't do it, i'd always regret it." "it seems safe enough," said durland. "he didn't insist on your meeting him alone. he probably knew that you wouldn't do that, anyhow, and took the only chance he had of persuading you, but i don't see what harm could come to you if you went to meet him with dick crawford and myself, and perhaps two or three others, to see that there was no foul play." "it's risky to have any dealings with him at all, i think," said dick crawford, "but if it was ever safe, i should say that this was the time. he's an awfully smooth scoundrel, or he wouldn't have been able to fool the burtons the way he did. still, it's hard, as you say, sir, to see what harm could come to jack to-night." "i think it's worth risking, anyhow," said durland. "you and i will go along, dick. and i think i'll have a talk with jim burroughs, too. it might be that he would feel like coming along with us." "can i bring pete stubbs and tom binns with us, sir?" asked jack. "i think they'd like to be along." "by all means," said durland. jack went off then to look for his two chums. but they were nowhere to be seen. he was surprised, for, since they were on active duty, they were supposed to be always in readiness at the headquarters of the troop unless detached with special orders. finally, after hunting for them for half an hour, he asked bob hart about them. bob, who, as patrol leader of the crow patrol, ranked during the maneuvers as a sergeant, seemed surprised. "i gave them permission to be absent from headquarters until eleven o'clock," he said. "didn't you know they were going to ask for it?" "i did not," said jack, decidedly surprised. pete and tom had known of the chance that he might meet broom, and he wondered how it was that they were willing to be absent at a time when he might need them. it was the first time either of them had ever failed him, and he was puzzled and bothered by their absence. "that's certainly mighty queer!" he said to himself. "i wonder if they forgot about broom, or if they thought i would?" but there was no sense in trying to puzzle out the reason for their having gone. they were off--that was plain, and he would have to go without them. while he waited for durland and dick crawford to return, he began to speculate a good deal as to what the reason for broom's new shift might be. he was sure, from the way broom had acted, that the man was as much his enemy as ever. and yet he had seemed to feel that he and jack together might be able to accomplish something that was beyond the power of either of them, alone, to get done. "perhaps he's had trouble of some sort with the people who want to keep me from finding out about myself," thought jack. "in that case, he's simply turned traitor to them, and is trying to use me to get even with them. well, i don't care! they must be a pretty bad lot, and if i can find out about myself i don't see why i should mind helping him to that extent. but i'd certainly like to know the answer!" he waited some time longer before the scout-master and dick crawford returned. "jim burroughs isn't there," said dick, with a puzzled expression on his face. "his captain says that he and several of the men got leave before dinner, because they wanted to see if they couldn't pick up some birds a little way off, in a preserve that belongs to a man who is a friend of jim's. but we went over in that direction, and there wasn't any sign of them." "well, it's no great matter, anyhow," said durland, with a smile. "there are enough of us left to attend to the matter. we'd better be getting along, jack. where are stubbs and binns?" "they got leave for a little while from sergeant hart, sir," said jack. "that seems mighty funny to me, because they knew about broom, and that i might want them along with me to-night." "they've probably forgotten it, jack," said dick. "you've all had a pretty full day and things slip the mind sometimes in such circumstances. no use worrying about them. we'll go ahead, anyhow." at the place where broom had made his appointment a man was waiting for them. "mr. broom said this place was too public," the man whispered. "if you'll come along with me, i'll show you where he is waiting for you now." "we'll come," said durland. "but look here, my man, no tricks!" he drew his hand from his holster, and showed the guide, a sullen, scowling fellow, the big pistol that reposed there. "if i see any sign of treachery, i'm going to use this and see who's to blame afterward," durland went on, grimly. "you'd better play level with us, or you'll have a mighty good reason to regret it. that's a fair warning, now. see that you profit by it. the next will be from my pistol!" "aw, g'wan, what's eatin' youse?" asked the man. but, despite his bluster, he was obviously frightened. "i ain't here to hoit youse," he said, sullenly, after a minute's silence. "just youse come along wid me, and i'll take youse to broom. that's all the job i got, see?" he led them some distance into the woods. once or twice they thought they heard sounds as if others were near them, but they made up their minds that this idea was due to their imaginations. and finally, when they were nearly two miles from the nearest troops, as far as they could tell, their guide stopped in a little clearing in the woods. "wait here," he said. "i'll go tell broom you're ready." he crashed off through the undergrowth, and, with what patience they could, they waited in the darkness. they realized afterward that the waiting was a blind. no one had crept up on them, but they were suddenly seized, each one from behind, so that there was no chance at all for durland and crawford to use the pistols that they held in their hands. their assailants, as they guessed later, had been waiting all the time for them, ready to spring, upon them as soon as they were thoroughly off their guard. and in a moment they saw broom, an electric torch in his hand, which he directed at the faces of the three prisoners in turn. "you walked into the trap all right, didn't you?" he said to jack, with an ugly sneer on his face. "you was mighty smart this morning! glad you brought your friends along. they've bothered us, too. and now we've caught you all together. that's much better, you see! you won't get in my way again, any one of you!" suddenly he gave a curse. "where's the others?" he snarled. "the red-headed one and the little shaver? i want them, too!" "there weren't but the three of them," said the man who had served as their guide. "i don't know where the others are." "well, it can't be helped," said broom, with an oath. "i'll get rid of these, anyhow." "you'll spoil no more games of mine!" he told them. "get the ropes, there, men!" "what are you goin' to do?" asked one of broom's men. "string them up," replied broom, with a brutal laugh. "hanging leaves no evidence behind. no weapons--no wounds to show the sort of a blow that killed. there's good advice for you, my friend. if you want to get rid of an enemy, hang him!" all three of the prisoners had been gagged. they had to stand silent, now, while the rope was placed about their necks. they were all forced to stand under the spreading branch of a big tree, and the ropes were thrown over it. "we'll let them swing all together, now," said broom. "when i give the word! plenty of time, though! we'll let them have a minute or two to think it over." "now!" cried a voice in the woods beyond the small circle of light from broom's electric torch. a second later the click of falling hammers fell on the air. and, even as broom turned, a dozen men stepped into the light, with leveled rifles, covering every one of the gang that broom had gathered to make his trap. "fire if they make a single movement!" ordered jim burroughs. "good work, pete! release them now! you brought us here--it's only fair to let you turn them loose, you and tom binns." "go ahead and shoot!" yelled broom, suddenly, and made a dash for the woods. a dozen rifles spoke out, but he crashed away in the darkness, and one or two of the others ran also. "he got away!" said durland. "pretty bad shooting, jim!" "well, you can't expect much from blank cartridges," said jim burroughs, with a grin. "we didn't have any loaded with ball, you know. it was just a bluff, but it worked pretty well!" "but how did you get here at all?" "pete stubbs and tom binns are responsible for that. they didn't like the idea of this expedition at all, and neither did i, when they told me about it. we stuck pretty close to you. but i wanted to make sure of broom, or i'd have butted in before." the braden books far past the frontier _by_ james a. braden the sub-title "two boy pioneers" indicates the nature of this story--that it has to do with the days when the ohio valley and the northwest country were sparsely settled. such a topic is an unfailing fund of interest to boys, especially when involving a couple of stalwart young men who leave the east to make their fortunes and to incur untold dangers. "strong, vigorous, healthy, manly."--_seattle times._ connecticut boys in the western reserve _by_ james a. braden the author once more sends his heroes toward the setting sun. "in all the glowing enthusiasm of youth, the youngsters seek their fortunes in the great, fertile wilderness of northern ohio, and eventually achieve fair success, though their progress is hindered and sometimes halted by adventures innumerable. it is a lively, wholesome tale, never dull, and absorbing in interest for boys who love the fabled life of the frontier."--_chicago tribune._ the trail of the seneca _by_ james a. braden in which we follow the romantic careers of john jerome and return kingdom a little farther. these two self-reliant boys are living peaceably in their cabin on the cuyahoga when an indian warrior is found dead in the woods nearby. the seneca accuses john of witchcraft. this means death at the stake if he is captured. they decide that the seneca's charge is made to shield himself, and set out to prove it. mad anthony, then on the ohio, comes to their aid, but all their efforts prove futile and the lone cabin is found in ashes on their return. captives three _by_ james a. braden a tale of frontier life, and how three children--two boys and a girl--attempt to reach the settlements in a canoe, but are captured by the indians. a common enough occurrence in the days of our great-grandfathers has been woven into a thrilling story. bound in cloth, each handsomely $ . illustrated, cloth, postpaid _the saalfield publishing co._ akron, ohio fiction for boys little rhody _by_ jean k. baird _illustrated by_ r. g. vosburgh at the hall, a boys' school, there is a set of boys known as the "union of states," to which admittance is gained by excelling in some particular the boys deem worthy of their mettle. rush petriken, a hunchback boy, comes to the hall, and rooms with barnes, the despair of the entire school because of his prowess in athletics. petriken idolizes him, and when trouble comes to him, the poor crippled lad gladly shoulders the blame, and is expelled. but shortly before the end of the term he returns and is hailed as "little rhody," the "capitalest state of all." cloth, mo, illustrated,--$ . bigelow boys _by_ mrs. a. f. ransom _illustrated by_ henry miller four boys, all bubbling over with energy and love of good times, and their mother, an authoress, make this story of a street-car strike in one of our large cities move with leaps and bounds. for it is due to the four boys that a crowded theatre car is saved from being wrecked, and the instigators of the plot captured. mrs. ransom is widely known by her patriotic work among the boys in the navy, and she now proves herself a friend of the lads on land by writing more especially for them. cloth, mo, illustrated,--$ . books sent postpaid on receipt of price. _the saalfield publishing co._ akron, ohio _the boy scout series_ the boy scouts in camp the boy scouts to the rescue the boy scouts on the trail the boy scout fire-fighters the boy scouts afloat the boy scout pathfinders the boy scout automobilists the boy scout aviators the boy scouts' champion recruit the boy scouts' defiance the boy scouts' challenge the boy scouts' victory the boy scouts under king george the boy scouts with the allies the boy scouts under the kaiser the boy scouts at liege the boy scouts with the cossacks the boy scouts before belgrade the boy scouts' test the boy scouts in front of warsaw the boy scouts under the red cross department of the interior bureau of education bulletin, , no. educational work of the boy scouts by lorne w. barclay director of the department of education boy scouts of america * * * * * [advance sheets from the biennial survey of education in the united states, - ] [illustration: department of the interior logo] washington government printing office additional copies of this publication may be procured from the superintendent of documents government printing office washington, d. c. at cents per copy educational work of the boy scouts. by lorne w. barclay. _director of the department of education, boy scouts of america._ * * * * * contents.--scouting and the schools--scouting and citizenship--the pioneer scout--seascouting, a branch of the boy scouts of america--national councils endeavor to discover vital facts in regard to the boyhood of the nation--international aspects of scouting--scout handbooks, organs, and other literature--motion pictures for boys. * * * * * scouting and the schools. scouting continues to enjoy the cordial indorsement of school men everywhere all over the country. more and more those interested are coming to see the enormous possibilities of cooperation between the scout movement and the schools. many schools now give credit for scout work done outside of the schools. many more are in hearty sympathy with the program as an extraschool activity. in there were organized in connection with public schools , troops and in connection with private schools. the records also show that for the same year , scoutmasters were also school-teachers. many troops have their meetings in the school buildings and in turn render good service by taking charge of fire drills, first aid and safety first instruction, yard clean ups, flag drills, etc. scout leaders take the utmost pains to see that scout activities do not in any way interfere with school duties, and troop meetings are regularly held on friday evening for that reason. the best results have been obtained not by formalizing scouting, but by supplementing and vitalizing the book work by the practical activities of the scout program. through scouting many a boy's healthy curiosity to know has been whetted, so that he comes for perhaps the first time in his life to see "sense" in books. as one school man has said, "scouting has done what no other system yet devised has done--made the boy _want to learn_." the national education association, meeting in chicago in , had a special scouting section which was particularly helpful, interesting, and conducive to closer cooperation between the scout movement and the public schools. the department of education of the national council is at present engaged in working out the development of a national policy governing the relations between scouting and the schools, for important and successful as the work has hitherto been, it is believed that only the very outskirts of the possible fields of mutual helpfulness have yet been reached. scouting and citizenship. the making of good citizens is one of the chief aims of the scout movement. everything in its program contributes directly and indirectly to this end. every boy who associates himself with the movement is impressed with a sense of personal responsibility. if he sees a heap of rubbish that might cause a fire or collect disease-carrying germs, he is taught to report these traps to the proper authorities without delay. he is enlisted in every movement for community betterment and good health. scouts are organized for service and have participated in hundreds of city-clean-up and city-beautiful, and "walk-rite" campaigns. they fight flies and mosquitoes and fever-carrying rats. they assist forest wardens and park commissioners in preserving and protecting trees and planting new ones. they help the police in handling traffic in crowded conditions, as in parades, fairs, etc., and work with fire departments in spreading public information as to fire prevention, as well as actively participating in cooperation with fire brigades. all this means the making of an intelligent, alert, responsible citizenry, dedicated to being helpful to all people at all times, to keep themselves physically strong, mentally awake, morally straight, to do their duty to god and country. the pioneer scout. in order that boys who live in remote country districts may enjoy the benefits of the scout training, even though it is not possible for them to join a regular troop, the pioneer division of the boy scouts of america has been established. pioneer scouts follow the same program as other scouts do, taking their tests from a specially appointed local examiner, usually a teacher, pastor, or employer. on january , , there were active pioneer scouts on record at national headquarters. much interest has been manifested in this branch of scouting, which has been found to fill a real need among country boys. the state agricultural departments and colleges have given generous aid and indorsement, as have also the grange, antituberculosis league, and other local institutions. the united states department of agriculture is also lending its hearty support and indorsement to this branch of scout work. the secretary of agriculture, the hon. e. t. meredith, says: "the boy scout program fits in with the work of the rural school, the rural church, the agricultural boys' club, and other rural welfare organizations. they should go hand in hand." scouting and americanization. mr. james e. west, chief scout executive, makes the following statement in his tenth annual report rendered to the national council, boy scouts of america: the tremendous value of the boy scout movement in the americanization problems of this country has been recognized by the division of citizenship training, bureau of naturalization, department of labor, from whom was received a request that boy scouts distribute letters and cards among aliens in the interest of the educational work of the division of citizenship training. a study of the indorsements of the movement by national leaders (selected from the many received) will reveal similar recognition in such quarters. many leaders in the organization, from coast to coast, have long recognized that the boy scouts of america enjoy a high privilege as well as a high responsibility in truly democratizing the boyhood of this country. the foreign-born boy and the son of foreign-born parents sit side by side with native-born boys (as they should) in our schools. they mingle in their play and in their homes. they are one boyhood. but it is a boyhood of marvelously diverse racial characteristics and tendencies. moreover, this boyhood is the future manhood of america. and the boy inside each individual in this , , or so of american youth instinctively responds to the boy scout program. as america is the melting pot of the nations, even so scouting is the melting pot of the boys of the nations. fortunately, the program needs no modifications or special manipulation to "americanize" its followers. it is inherently an americanizing program. in manhattan's crowded east side, since , when the first scout troop was founded there, thousands of boys have taken the scout oath and law and followed its principles and lived its out-of-door life. to-day there are troops in new york city, numbering boys. every scoutmaster and assistant scoutmaster in the district is an ex-scout. these troops have a splendid record of war-service work, and it has been declared of them that they were the greatest single agency in operation rightly to interpret the war to their foreign-born neighbors. the aggressive introduction of scouting into all our industrial sections, the enlistment of the men of those sections (who are eligible) as local council members, troop committeemen, scoutmasters, the fullest possible round of scouting activities for the men and the boys in this country who do not yet know america, but aspire to be her sons, will help to solve all our industrial problems and preserve our national ideals and institutions. sea scouting--a branch of the boy scouts of america. sea scouting is another important branch of scouting which aims to develop water scouting and nautical activities and training of all sorts. chief sea scout james a. wilder says: sea scouting is the way whereby scouting fulfills its obligation to the american boy to prepare him for emergencies on water as well as on land. high officials of the navy and the merchant marine have expressed their unqualified approval of the entire program of seamanship, watermanship, cloud study, sailmaking, boats under oars and sail, shore camping, and the other fascinating activities. our merchant marine languishes for lack of instructed seamen. it is not a far cry to the time when boys who have followed the seascout program will be found in the four quarters of the globe, doing business on great waters because they, as sea scouts, received the same training which helped keep our flag flying on the seven seas. during the year the sea scouting department tripled its membership and had regularly commissioned ships in states. it is essentially an older-boy plan and is not a substitute for scouting but a development of it. only boys over years of age are eligible to join a sea scout ship, though a preliminary rank, that of cabin boy, is open to younger scouts who are able to meet certain tests in "water preparedness" and take the sea promise. the sea promise. on my honor, i will, as a scout and as a cabin boy, do my best to become proficient in scouting. . to learn swimming and always "be prepared" to render aid to those in need in connection with water accidents. . to make it my practice to know the location of the life-saving devices aboard every boat i go on, and to outline mentally any responsibility in maintaining order for myself and shipmates in case of emergency. . to be vigilant and cautious, always guarding against water accidents. . to cooperate with the responsible authorities for the observance of all regulations for the conduct and safety of boats and ever seek to preserve the motto of the sea, "women and children first." like all scouting, sea scouting is both recreation and education. a sea scout has a jolly good time in the water and on it, but at the same time he is acquiring a tremendous amount of practical knowledge and nautical efficiency which will stand him in good stead whether he follows the sea or not. national council's endeavor to discover vital facts in regard to the boyhood of the nation. earnest search reveals the lack of any comprehensive and uniform data as to the youth of the nation, although such data are absolutely essential if we are to reach every boy and assure him the educational and other opportunities to which he is entitled. at the instigation of the chief scout executive, mr. james e. west, the national council of the boy scouts of america is endeavoring to start in motion an aggressive campaign in the ascertaining and collecting of such facts. each local council is charged with the responsibility of studying conditions in its own locality. realizing the importance of making this study of nation-wide extension, the national council, at its last annual meeting (march, ), passed the following resolution: whereas the national council of the boy scouts of america regard it of the utmost importance that there should be available for use by the boy scouts of america and other organizations interested in the welfare of the youth of the nation all possible data relating to this subject; and whereas investigation has proved that practically no uniform data of this sort are at present available as a basis for a thorough study of the situation and further development of their respective programs for service to the youth of our nation: _resolved_, that the national council of the boy scouts of america in tenth annual meeting now assembled requests that the federal government and the various states of the united states shall, at their earliest conveniences, through their various appropriate departments, collate and make available for our use and that of other organizations such data as will provide intelligent, efficient, and economic promotion of the program devoted to making of good citizenship, and _be it further resolved_, that the united states bureau of education, census bureau, and the department of child welfare be especially urged to collate such data as are absolutely necessary for a thorough investigation of the problems involved; and _be it further resolved_, that if sufficient funds are not at the present time available for this absolutely essential purpose, the congress of the united states and the legislatures of the various states of the union be urged to immediately make such appropriation as may be necessary for carrying out this purpose. international aspects of scouting. scouting as a world movement was represented in the summer of by the international scout jamboree held at london, england, at which delegates were present from of the nations in which scouting is definitely established. the boy scouts of america were represented by a group of about scouts and scout leaders representing the whole country. the gathering was most interesting and impressive in every way, and the value of the scout movement in training boys to healthful, useful activities by a program which is both educational and recreational was triumphantly demonstrated. aside from their participation in the jamboree itself, the trip was of immense value to our own boys, as it allowed of extensive visiting of points of interest and historic association both in england and france, and in belgium, where the delegation was reviewed by king albert, of belgium. at the invitation of the american committee for devastated france, the national council loaned its department of education director, mr. lorne w. barclay, to be in charge of the scout camp at compiegne, france, on the bank of the aisne. scout handbooks, organs, and other literature. _handbook for boys._--the handbook for boys continues to be increasingly in demand. two or three printings of the book are required annually, each printing including a , , edition, to supply the demand for what is said to be the most popular boy's book in the world. it is now in its twenty-fourth edition and is the official interpretation of the scout movement. _leaders' handbooks._--the new scoutmaster's handbook contains a wealth of valuable material for scout leaders and other adults interested in the movement. it is prepared by experts and based upon sound pedagogical principles as well as good scouting. the new handbook for executives, called community boy leadership, is now in circulation and is proving valuable. _magazines._--boy's life, the official scout magazine for boys, is a live, wholesome, interesting publication issued monthly, containing stories and articles by well-known authors and specialists. _scouting_, issued monthly, is prepared especially for scout leaders not under council, while the scout executive, another monthly bulletin, is directed chiefly to the field under council. _merit badge pamphlets._--the editorial department of the boy scouts of america has prepared and edited a series of valuable pamphlets in connection with the merit badge subjects, which is filling a long-felt want among scouts and others interested. there are different pamphlets, each written by a recognized authority in the respective subject, and each submitted before printing to a large number of experts, over of whom were consulted for critical suggestion and guidance. no effort has been spared to make these booklets accurate and interesting. they contain over , pages of printed matter and over illustrations, as well as valuable bibliographies and biographical matter. the pamphlets have already attracted considerable favorable notice among school men, and several colleges are placing the whole series in their reference libraries. a classified list of the subjects for which pamphlets have been issued follows: i. _subjects that have to do with outdoor activities._ . angling. . archery. . camping. . cooking. . cycling. . hiking. . horsemanship. . marksmanship. . pathfinding. . photography. . pioneering. . seamanship. . stalking. . swimming. ii. _subjects that have to do with outdoor activities of a vocational nature._ . agriculture. . beekeeping. . bird study. . botany. . conservation. . dairying. . forestry. . gardening. . poultry keeping. . taxidermy. iii. _subjects which have to do with modern application of mechanics._ . automobiling. . aviation. . electricity. . machinery. . signaling. . wireless. iv. _subjects which have to do with the preservation of health and the saving of life._ . athletics. . first aid. . first aid to animals. . firemanship. . life saving. . personal health. . physical development. . public health. . safety first. v. _subjects which have to do with so-called "trades."_ . blacksmithing. . carpentry. . craftsmanship, including craftswork in metal, leather, basketry, pottery, cement, book-binding, wood carving. ( separate pamphlets.) . handicraft. . leather working. . masonry. . mining. . plumbing. . printing. . surveying. vi. _subjects which have to do with knowledge gained mainly from books and laboratories, under instructors._ . astronomy. . chemistry. . business. . civics. . interpreting. . scholarship. vii. _subjects which have to do with some form of art._ . architecture. . art. . music (including bugling). . painting. . sculpture. _other literature._--the national council also issues a large number of other informational and interpretative publications, such as the manual of customs and drills, the seascout manual, what every scoutmaster wants to know, scouting and the public schools, your boy and scouting, what scouts do, membership in the boy scouts of america, the boy scout movement (as approved by the religious education association), etc. _cooperation with publishers._--the department during the year has maintained through its director constant contact with publishers and authors. more than new books published for boys in have been carefully examined (a good many in manuscript form) for review in boys' life or inclusion in some one of our book lists and, of these, of the few really good books for boys published in , it is a joy to report that more than half of these were first published serially in boys' life, a record that stands alone. _new books edited._--the director has edited as usual the boy scouts' year book, compiled from last year's issues of boys' life, the sales of which have been more than a third larger than in previous years. more notable still has been the success of the boy scouts' book of stories, a compilation of stories of interest to boys selected, one each, from the writings of our best american and english short-story writers. the purpose of the director in editing such a book was to interest boys in stories that have the quality of fine writing, and so help to develop in them a taste for literature that will make them lovers of the great and good books of all ages. the very nature of the book warranted the conclusion that it would take considerable time to make it a good seller. once again the unexpected has happened in that the first year's sales of the boy scouts' book of stories has equaled the first year's sale of the boy scouts' year book, and the present promise is that for years to come this book will more than hold its own. in the coming year material is being gathered for a companion volume to be published under the title the boy scouts' book of stories in verse. _motion pictures for scouts._--the director of the library department of the national council, mr. franklin k. matthews, has served as a literary adviser to a motion-picture company. as a result of this collaboration a large number of educational and scout films have been put into circulation, including the popular "knights of the square table," by chief seascout james a. wilder. it is believed that these films offer splendid opportunities not only to show the educational possibilities of the scout movement but also to interest and instruct the public in the joys and benefits of outdoor life, the necessity for safety first and fire-prevention measures, and other features which are accentuated by the scout program. the films can also be admirably used in connection with the americanization movement. * * * * * transcriber's notes: this book uses both "seascouting" and "sea scouting" in their various forms. page , "pracically" changed to "practically" (that practically no uniform) proofreaders note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustration. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) the banner boy scouts on a tour or the mystery of rattlesnake mountain by george a. warren author of "the banner boy scouts," "the musket boys of old boston," "the musket boys under washington," etc. illustrated [illustration: "come on, fellows; us to the attack!" called bobolink. _banner boy scouts on a tour_ _page _] the saalfield publishing co. akron, ohio new york made in u. s. a. copyright, , by cupples & leon company contents chapter page i the open door ii the mystery of the tin box iii breaking up the scouts' meeting iv catching a tartar v getting ready for the great "hike" vi on guard vii "be prepared!" viii repulsing the enemy ix returning good for evil x off on the long tour xi the coming of the circus caravan xii a camp by the roadside xiii when the moon went down xiv the chase xv left in the lurch xvi at the foot of rattlesnake mountain xvii joe declines to tell xviii a close call xix indian picture writing xx camp surprise xxi the light of the mountain xxii the night alarm xxiii what the eyes of a scout may see xxiv the strangest fishing ever known xxv paul lays down his burden xxvi the sucker-hole xxvii gathering clouds xxviii the great storm xxix a panic-stricken crowd xxx the underground refuge xxxi the boy scouts as explorers xxxii the tin box again xxxiii what paul found--conclusion preface dear boys: while this volume is complete in itself, it forms a second link in the chain of books issued under the general title, "the banner boy scouts series." you will, no doubt, be glad to find most of the old favorites on parade once more; and perhaps make the acquaintance of several new characters who figure in these pages. in the preceding volume, "the banner boy scouts; or, the struggle for leadership," i endeavored to interest my readers in an account of the numerous trials and adventures that befell paul and his chums when forming the first red fox patrol. you will remember how the mystery of the disappearing coins continued to puzzle paul and jack almost up to the very conclusion of the story. and doubtless you were also ready to admit that, hard pressed by jealous rivals at home, as well as forced to compete with two neighboring troops who longed to possess the prize banner, the stanhope scouts certainly did have a warm time of it, right up to the close of the tournament. the wonderful way in which they carried off first honors at that same competition certainly ought to inspire all boy scouts to emulate their example, and never be satisfied with half-hearted efforts. i sincerely hope and trust the stirring happenings that fall to the lot of paul and his chums, as related between the covers of the present volume, may give every reader the same amount of pleasure that i have experienced in writing them. cordially yours, george a. warren. the banner boy scouts on a tour chapter i the open door "here we are at your father's feed store, joe!" "yes, but there isn't a glimmer of a light. didn't you say he was going to stay here till you came from the meeting?" "shucks! he just got tired waiting, and went home long ago; you can trot along now by your lonesome, joe." "listen! didn't you hear it, fellows? what was that sound?" the four boys stood, as joe asked this question, almost holding their breath with awe, while no doubt their hearts pounded away like so many trip-hammers. it was after ten o'clock at night, and the town of stanhope, nestling on the bank of the bushkill, usually closed its business doors by nine, save on saturdays. this being the case, it was naturally very quiet on anderson street, even though electric lights and people abounded on broad street, the main thoroughfare, just around the corner. these lads belonged to a troop of boy scouts that had been organized the preceding summer. they wore the regular khaki suits that always distinguish members of the far-reaching organization, and one of them even carried a bugle at his side. the first speaker was paul morrison, the scout leader, to whom much of the labor of getting the troop started had fallen. paul was the son of the leading doctor in stanhope. his comrades were the bugler, known as bobolink, because he chanced to answer to the name of robert oliver link; jack stormways, paul's particular chum; and joe clausin, the one who had asked his friends to stroll around in his company, to the feed store, where he expected to find his father waiting for him. the lads had been attending a regular weekly meeting of the troop at one of the churches that offered them the free use of a gymnasium. "there's no light inside," said bobolink, in a husky voice, "but the door's half open, boys!" this announcement sent another thrill through the group. anyone unacquainted with the wearers of the scout uniforms might even imagine that they had been attacked by a spasm of fear; but at least two members of the group had within recent times proven their valor in a fashion that the people of stanhope would never forget. in the preceding volume of this series, issued under the name of "the banner boy scouts; or, the struggle for leadership," i related how the boys got together and organized their patrol and troop. of course, there was considerable opposition, from jealous rivals; but in the end the boys of stanhope won their right to a prize banner by excelling the troops from the neighboring towns in many of the things a true scout should know and practice. hence, no one who has perused the first book of this series will imagine for an instant that any of these lads were timid, simply because they clustered together, and felt their pulses quiver with excitement. "do you hear that sound again, joe?" demanded paul, presently, as all listened. "i thought i did just then," answered joe clausin, drawing a long breath; "but perhaps it was only imagination. dad's been doing more work than he ought, lately. mebbe he's been taken with one of his old fainting spells." "say, that's just what it is, i reckon," observed bobolink, quickly; "or else he forgot to shut the door when he went home." "he never could have done that, boys," declared joe; "you know how careful he always is about everything. i was just thinkin' about the skarff robbery, and wonderin' if those fellows had come back to town. the police never caught 'em, you remember." joe's voice had once more dropped to a whisper. what he said seemed to make considerable impression on his comrades, for the heads drew even closer together. "but why would they want to break open a feed store?" ventured jack stormways, dubiously; "it isn't like the skarff place, which was a jewelry shop." "'sh!" went on joe, nervously; "i happen to know that dad keeps quite some money in his safe about the first of the month, when people pay their bills. mother has often told him he ought to put it in the bank; but he only laughs at her, and says he'd like to see the thief who could open his safe. paul, what should we do?" "go in, i reckon. wait till i find my matches," returned the scout leader, without the least hesitation. "oh! what if we should run up against a man hiding there?" suggested joe. "well, there are four of us, you know, boys. but what are you doing, jack?" paul continued, seeing that his warmest chum was bending down, as though he might be tugging at something. "look here what i've got, fellows! and there's a lot more to be had for the taking," with which jack stormways held up a stout stick of wood, which, coming with some of the hay or feed that reached the store during the day, had been cast aside. immediately the three others made haste to possess themselves of similar weapons. "ready?" asked paul, as he prepared to advance boldly into the dense darkness. "sure! we're going to back you up, old fellow. say the word!" shrilled bobolink, close to the other's shoulder. "come on, then!" the lads had hardly advanced five steps when every one caught the dread sound that joe claimed to have heard. and paul, perhaps because he was the son of a doctor, somehow guessed its true import sooner than any one of his chums. he knew it was a groan, and that some human being must be suffering! there was a slight crackling sound, which was caused by the sudden drawing of a match along paul's trousers. instantly a tiny flame sprang into existence; and every eye was strained to discover the cause of the groan. as the match burned, and the light grew stronger, the boys discovered that some one lay upon the floor inside the glass enclosed office, and close to the desk where mr. clausin usually sat. paul, looking further, had seen that there was a lamp on the stand, and knowing the need of some better means of illumination than a succession of matches, instantly moved forward, and started to remove the chimney of this. it was still a trifle warm, showing that the light must have been blown out not more than a couple of minutes previously. meanwhile, joe had thrown himself on the floor beside the prostrate form, which he had already recognized as that of his father. he was chafing his hands, and calling out in boyish agony, while jack and bobolink looked on with troubled faces. paul saw immediately that either mr. clausin must have had a fit while alone, possibly just after he had blown out the lamp, or else some one had attacked him. his collar and necktie were disarranged, and there was a nasty bruise on the side of his head; though this might have come when he fell to the floor. "if we had some water we might bring him to," observed paul, when the man on the floor groaned again, more dismally than before. "back of the safe there is a bucket, with a dipper!" said joe, eagerly. fortunately some water remained in the pail, and paul was able to fill the dipper. it was just then he noticed the door of the little safe, and saw that it was open. this was strange, if the owner of the store had been about to leave when he was seized. and supposing he had fallen in a fit, who had put out the lamp? no sooner had he applied the cold water than it seemed to have a magical effect on the unconscious man. he gasped two or three times, while a tremor ran through his whole frame. then his eyes suddenly opened. "father!" almost shrieked poor joe, who had begun to believe that he was never again to be blessed by communion with his parent. "joe! what has happened? where am i?" and as he muttered these words mr. clausin managed to sit up, staring around him in a way that at another time might have seemed almost comical, so great was his surprise. "you told me to come here, and that you would wait for me," declared his son; "when we got to the store it was all dark, and the door stood half open. then we heard you groan, father. oh! what was it? did you have another of those awful spells?" joe still kept on rubbing his hand affectionately down the sleeve of his parent's coat. "yes, it must have been that, my boy," the dazed storekeeper answered. "i seem to remember starting to get up to put a little box in the safe, for it was about the time you said you would be along. then it all grew dark around me. i think i fell, for i seem to remember hearing a crash. and my head feels very sore. yes, i have bruised it badly. perhaps it was a mighty good thing you boys came along when you did." "oh! that was terrible, father," cried joe; "but at first we thought some one had been in here to rob you. that door being open worried me. i never knew you to leave it that way when you stayed here at night." "what's that you say, my boy?" asked mr. clausin, hastily; "the door was open when you came? but i distinctly remember that it was not only shut, but latched on the inside! i expected you to knock, and let me know when you came along." he still seemed half in a daze, as though the blow he had received in falling might have affected him. while speaking, however, mr. clausin managed to regain his feet, partly supported by his son's arm. "wait until i close my safe, and then i'll go home with you, joe," he said; "the doctor told me i ought to take a little rest, and that i was working too hard. it looks as if he must have been right. but i'm glad you came along when you did, for----" he was bending down, and staring into the safe. paul watched him uneasily, for that open door worried the boy. "what is it, father?" exclaimed joe, as he saw the gentleman begin hastily to open several compartments in the metal receptacle, and paul noticed that his hand shook as though with palsy. "look on the floor, boys, please. tell me if you can see a small tin box anywhere. of course i must have dropped it when i fell in that faint," mr. clausin was saying; but paul fancied it was more to bolster up his own courage, than because he really believed what he observed. the boys immediately set to work examining the floor of the office thoroughly. but none of them met with any success. "how large a tin box was it, father?" continued joe, presently. "some eight inches long, by half as many wide. could i have misplaced it in any way?" and mr. clausin began to feel in his pockets. once more he looked into the yawning safe. "we don't seem to see it anywhere, sir," said paul, who suspected what was coming. the feed merchant stood up before them, with a very grave face. he was clasping both hands together in a nervous fashion. "then there is only one thing that can have happened, boys! i have been robbed while i lay here unconscious!" he said, solemnly, at which bobolink gasped. "do you miss any money from your safe, sir?" questioned paul, who seemed to be able to keep his head in this crisis. "fortunately i took my wife's advice this time," returned the owner of the feed store, "and deposited all i had in the bank this afternoon. still, possibly the thief believed i would keep it here. seeing that tin box, and suspecting that it might hold valuables, he has carried it off." "do you remember blowing out the lamp at all, sir?" asked paul. "i certainly did not," came the answer; "i can recollect seeing it as i arose. then all grew dark!" "that settles it. there must have been a thief here, then!" remarked jack, with more or less awe, as he looked around the big storeroom beyond the glass enclosed office. chapter ii the mystery of the tin box "give the assembly call, number three!" presently, in answer to paul's order, the clear, sweet notes of a bugle sounded through the big gymnasium under the church. more than a score of lads of all sizes began to pass in from the outside, where they had been chattering like so many magpies; for it was now summer, with vacation at hand. after telling the bugler to sound the call for the meeting, paul, who often had charge in place of the regular scoutmaster, mr. gordon, watched the coming of the boys through the open basement door. "everybody on hand to-night, i guess, paul," observed his chum jack, as he laid his hand on the shoulder of the leader of the red fox patrol. thus far there were three patrols in stanhope troop. as the first to organize had chosen to be known as the red fox, it pleased the others simply to call their patrols by the names of gray and black fox. in one corner of the room reposed a splendid banner of silk, upon which had been sewn a wonderfully life-like representation of a fox's head done in colors. strangely enough, to some it seemed red, while others were just as fully of the opinion that it could be called gray or black, so cleverly had the silken threads been arranged. this banner was the one offered by the old quaker, mr. westervelt, in the preceding autumn, to be given to the troop that excelled in various scout tactics and knowledge. the contest had been confined to the three troops along the bushkill river; and while both aldine and manchester carried off some honors, the boys of stanhope had counted as many as both combined. when the banner was presented to the winners their totem had been ingeniously fashioned upon its shimmering folds. every member of stanhope troop felt a thrill of pardonable pride whenever his eyes fell upon the proof of their efficiency. "what makes you say that, jack?" asked the young scout leader, smilingly, when he heard his chum comment on the full attendance. "oh! well," laughed the other, "you know the boys understand that we're going to discuss where we expect to spend our vacation this year. every fellow is just wild to hear what the committee has settled on." "i sent a communication i received from our absent scoutmaster over to where the committee sat the other night," remarked paul. "he recommended a certain place for a hike and camp; but i'm just as much in the dark as the rest about what was decided. william does a lot of mysterious winking every time anybody asks him, and only says, 'wait'." paul did not seem to be at all concerned. he evidently had full confidence in the wisdom of the committee that had been appointed by himself at the last meeting. "why, yes," jack went on, "and jud elderkin, as the scout leader of the gray foxes, tried to get andy flinn to leak a little; but it was no use. andy would joke him, and tell all sorts of funny stories about what we _might_ do; but it was just joshing. i'm a bit curious myself to know." "have you heard anything more about mr. clausin?" asked paul, seriously. "i guess nobody has found out much about what was in that tin box," replied his chum. "even joe says he only knows there were valuable papers of some sort, which his father is broken-hearted over losing. you know mr. clausin has been just about sick ever since it happened." "yes," paul went on, "and three times now i've heard that the chief of police has been out there to confer with him. that makes me think joe's father must have some sort of idea about who robbed him." "oh! well, the fellow will never be caught if it depends on chief billings," declared jack, somewhat derisively; "i've known him to kick up a big row more than a few times, after something strange happened; but when did he get his man? tell me that, will you, paul?" "still, the chief is a good police head. he can look mighty fierce, and generally scares little boys into being good," laughed the scout leader. "but some others i know snap their fingers at him," jack went on; "for instance, you understand as well as i do, that ted slavin and his crowd ride rough-shod over the police force of stanhope. they have been threatened with all sorts of horrible punishments; but did you ever know of one of that bunch to be haled up before the justice?" "well, of course you know why," remarked paul, drily, making a grimace at the same time to indicate his disgust. "sure," responded jack, without the least hesitation; "ward kenwood, ted slavin's crony, stands pat with the chief. his dad happens to be the richest man in stanhope, and something of a politician. ward threatens to get the chief bounced from his job if he makes too much row, and you know it, paul. the result is that there's a whole lot of bluster, and threatening; after which things settle down just as they were, and nobody is pulled in. it makes me tired." "oh! well," laughed the scout leader, "some fine day there will be a rebellion in stanhope. then perhaps we can put in a police head who will do his duty, no matter if the offender happens to be the son of a rich banker, or of a railroad track-tender." "shucks! that day will be a long time coming," said jack, shaking his head in the negative, as if to emphasize his disbelief. "but do you know, i'm all worked up about that little tin box. there's something connected with it that mr. clausin hasn't told everybody. what could those papers have been; and why was he looking at them that night? did the unknown robber come to the feed-store just on purpose to get hold of them? was he especially interested in what that tin box held?" paul looked at his chum in surprise. "you certainly have the fever pretty bad, old fellow," he remarked, "and to tell you the truth, i've been thinking along the same line myself. if half a chance offered i'd like to be the one fortunate enough to recover that box for mr. clausin. but of course there isn't the least bit of hope that way." paul could not lift the curtain of the future just then, and see what strange things were in store for himself and his chum. had he been given only a glimpse of that future he would have been deeply thrilled. "the boys are all assembled, paul," observed jack, presently. accordingly, the scout leader of the first patrol, and acting scoutmaster in the absence of mr. gordon, found that he had duties to perform. paul, in spite of his wishes, had been elected president of the local council, jud being the vice-president, bluff treasurer and nat smith secretary. the meeting was especially called for a certain purpose, and every fellow knew that the committee appointed to recommend what the programme for the vacation campaign should be, was about to make its report. consequently, other business lagged, and there was a buzz of excitement when, with the decks cleared, the chairman of the meeting called upon the spokesman of that committee to stand up. william, the humorous member of the carberry twins, immediately bounced erect; and it happened that he stood just under the framed charter granted by the national committee to stanhope troop. every eye was glued upon his face, for it had been a matter of considerable speculation among the scouts as to where they might "hike" for the summer vacation, so as to have the most fun. william was the exact image of his brother wallace, though their dispositions could hardly have been more unlike. the former was brimming over with a high sense of humor, and dearly loved to play all manner of practical jokes. his greatest delight it seemed, was to pose as the steady-going wallace, and puzzle people who looked to the other carberry twin as an example of what a studious lad should be. still, william as a rule never reached the point of cruelty in his jokes; and in this respect he differed from ted slavin, who seldom counted the cost when carrying out some horse-play that had taken his fancy. the spokesman of the committee looked around at the many eager faces, and then bowed gravely. william could assume the airs of a serene judge when the humor seized him. and yet in his natural condition he was the most rollicking fellow in the troop, being somewhat addicted to present day slang, just as bobolink and some others were. "fellow members of the banner boy scouts," he began, when a roar arose. "cut that all out, william!" "yes, give us the dope straight. where are we going to hike?" "hit it up, old war-horse! we want the facts, and we want 'em bad. get down to business, and whisper it!" william smiled as these and many other cries greeted him. it pleased him to keep his comrades on the anxious-seat a little longer; but when threatening gestures were beginning to prove that the patience of the assembled scouts had about reached its limit, he was wise enough to surrender. so he held up his hand, with the little finger crossed by the thumb--the true scout's salute. instantly the tumult ceased. "gentlemen," the chairman of the selected three went on, "this committee has decided, after much powwowing, and looking into all sorts of propositions, that the country to the north offers the best field for a record hike, and a camp in the wilderness; where the scouts can discover just how much they have learned this past winter of woods lore. so it's back to the tall timber for us next week!" "hear! hear!" "wow! that sounds good to me all right!" "but just what tall timber, mr. chairman? tell us that, won't you?" once more william made the signal for silence, and every scout became mute. at least they had learned the value of obedience, and that is one of the cardinal virtues in a boy scout's ritual. "this committee recommends that we hike away up to rattlesnake mountain," william went on to say, "and explore the country thereabouts, which has not been visited by a boy of stanhope, in this present generation, at least. that is all for me; and now i'll skidoo!" with which the chairman dropped down into his chair again with becoming modesty. then arose a great uproar. cheers rang out in hearty boyish manner, as though the committee had struck a popular fancy when it decided upon the neighborhood of rattlesnake mountain for the summer camp. this elevation could be seen from the town on the bushkill. it had a grim look even on the clearest days; and there were so many stories told about the dangers to be encountered in that enchanted region that boys usually talked in whispers about a prospective trip of exploration there. thus far it was not on record that any of the stanhope lads had ever wandered that far afield, every expedition having given up before the slopes of the lofty mountain were reached. there were claims set forth by some fellows of manchester, to the effect that they had climbed half way up to the crest, and met with many thrilling adventures among strange caves which they found abounding there. but stanhope boys always smiled, and looked very knowing when they heard about this trip. they believed it originated mainly in the imaginations of those rivals from the nearby town. it can be seen, therefore, with what elation the announcement of william was received. all felt that there was a glorious future beckoning them on. boys delight in adventure; and surely the mysterious mountain that had so long been unknown ground to them, offered great possibilities. every one seemed to have some particular way of expressing his satisfaction. "the greatest thing ever!" exclaimed albert cypher, who by reason of his name, was known among his comrades as nuthin. "yes, all to the good! back to the woods for me, and old rattlesnake mountain to be the stamping ground for the banner boy scouts!" chirped bobolink, making his voice seem to come from wallace carberry, who was never known to indulge in the least bit of slang. bobolink was trying hard to be a ventriloquist, and occasionally he succeeded in a way to bring roars of laughter from the crowd. "w-w-whoop her up!" chanted bluff shipley, whose impediment of speech often gave him much trouble, especially when he was at all excited. one by one the assembled scouts were expressing their individual opinions concerning the proposed pilgrimage, when paul put it up to the meeting to ratify. a storm of "ayes" greeted the move that this report of the committee be accepted; and the "hike" to rattlesnake mountain be made the basis of their summer campaign. hardly had the roar of voices that followed this acceptance died away than there was a sudden and startling interruption to the proceedings. a sentinel, who, in accordance with military tactics, had been posted outside the church, came hurrying in, and whispered in the ear of the chairman, who immediately arose. "comrades," said paul, in a low but tense voice, "our sentry reports that he has found a window in the back of the church basement open, and looking in discovered moving figures. our meeting has been spied upon by those who want to learn our secrets." "it's sure that slavin bunch, fellows! come on, and let's get our hooks on the sneaks before they fade away!" shouted bobolink, jumping to his feet excitedly. chapter iii breaking up the scouts' meeting boom! boom! upon the silence of the summer night sounded the startling detonation of the big bell in the square tower of the church. the assembled scouts, arrested by this unexpected peal just as they were in the act of rushing forth to try and capture those who had been spying on the meeting, stared at each other in mute astonishment and indignation. every one seemed to quickly understand just what it meant, nor were they long in finding their voices to denounce the outrage. "it's a punk trick, fellows!" exclaimed jack, his face filled with growing anger. "they want to force the church trustees to chase us out of our quarters here!" "yes," echoed bobolink, trembling with eagerness to do something, he hardly knew just what, "it's a plot to throw us out in the cold, that's what! talk to me about a mean, low-down trick--this takes the cake!" "let's surround the feller at the rope! then we'll have something to show that it wasn't our fault the old bell jangled!" cried another member of the troop. "on the jump, foxes!" shouted william. immediately there was a grand rush. some went through the door, aiming to gain the outer air, in the hope of cutting off any escaping enemy. others rushed towards the stairs, by means of which the vestibule of the old church could be reached, where dangled the rope that moved the bell. paul led this latter group. he was boiling with indignation over the trick that had been played, for it promised to put the orderly scouts in bad odor with the custodian of the building, who had been so kind to them. the sexton, whose name was peter ostertag, usually lighted the gymnasium for them, and then went over to his own cottage near by. it was his usual habit to return at about ten o'clock, when the meeting disbanded, in order to put out the lights, and close the building. perhaps he might even then be on his way across lots. what with the shouts of the excited scouts, rushing hither and thither; together with some derisive laughter and cat calls from dark corners in the immediate vicinity, the scene certainly took on a lively turn. the bell had ceased to toll, though there still came a ringing, metallic hum from up in the tower. paul had snatched up a lamp as he ran, and with this he was able to see when he reached the top of the stairs. but the vestibule seemed to be empty. paul rushed to the door, and to his surprise found it locked. perhaps the sexton had thought to secure this exit after him, when he left the main body of the church, an hour or two before. then again, it might be, the plotters had been wise enough to place a barrier in the way of pursuit by turning the key, previously arranged on the outside of the lock. "hey! this way, paul!" cried bobolink, excitedly. "the door into the church is open! bring the lamp! he's in here, i tell you! listen to that, will you?" there was a sound that drifted to their ears, and it came from inside the body of the church, too. paul could easily imagine that the escaping bell-ringer must have stumbled while making his way across to some open window, and upset a small table that he remembered stood close to the wall. he lost no time in carrying out the suggestion of bobolink, who had already rushed into the dark building, fairly wild to make a capture. outside they could hear the boys calling to each other as they ran to and fro. the sharp, clear bark of a fox told that even in this period of excitement the scouts did not forget that they possessed a signal which could be used to tell friend from foe. as soon as he gained a footing inside the big auditorium paul held the lamp above his head. this was done, partly, better to send its rays around; and at the same time keep his own eyes from being dazzled by the glow. "there he is!" shrilled bobolink, suddenly; "over by the window on the left!" impetuous by nature, he made a dive in the direction indicated, only speedily to come to grief; for he tripped over some hair cushions that may have been purposely thrown into the aisle, and measured his length on the floor. paul had himself discovered a moving figure over in the quarter mentioned. there could not be the slightest doubt about it being a boy, he believed, and in the hope of at least getting near enough to recognize the interloper, he hastened forward as fast as policy would permit. with that lamp in his hand he did not want to follow the sad example of bobolink for such an accident might result in setting fire to the building. now the figure began to put on more speed. evidently the escaping party believed there was considerable danger of his being caught; and could guess what must follow if he fell into the hands of the aroused scouts. just in time did paul discover that a piece of clothes line, probably taken from a yard close by, had been cleverly fastened across the aisle about six inches from the floor. it was undoubtedly intended to trip any who unguardedly came along that way. "'ware the rope, fellows!" he called back over his shoulder; for some of his comrades were pushing hotly after him. the warning came too late, for there was a crash as one scout made a dive; and from the various cries that immediately arose paul judged that the balance of the detail had swarmed upon the fallen leader, just as though they had the pigskin oval down on the football field. by now the escaping figure had reached the open window through which he must have entered some time previously, taking time to lay these various traps by means of which he expected to baffle pursuit. paul believed that such an ingenious artifice could have originated in no brain save that of ted slavin, or possibly his crony, ward kenwood. hence he was trying his best to discover something familiar about the figure now clambering up over the windowsill. the balance of the scouts had managed to scramble to their feet after that jarring tumble; and were even then at his heels, grumbling and limping. "it's ted himself, that's what!" called bobolink, at this exciting juncture. the fellow turned his head while crouching in the window, just ready to drop outside. paul could hardly keep from laughing at what he saw. possibly foreseeing some such predicament as this, and not wishing to have his identity known if it could be avoided, what had the daring bell-ringer done but assumed an old mask that might have been a part of a valentine night's fun, or even a left-over from last hallowe'en frolic. at any rate it was a coal-black face that paul saw, with a broad grin capable of no further expansion. "yah! yah! yah!" laughed the pretended darky, as he waved a hand mockingly in their direction, and then vanished from view. paul thought he recognized something familiar about the voice, though he could not be absolutely certain. and it was not the bully of stanhope, ted slavin, that he had in mind, either. there arose a chorus of bitter cries of disappointment, showing how the scouts felt over the escape of the intruder who had played such a successful practical joke on the troop. "he's skidooed!" exclaimed bobolink, in disgust. "wouldn't that just jar you some, fellows?" "there goes william through the window after him! bully boy, william! hope you get a grip on the sneak!" cried nuthin, who was rubbing his right shin as though it had been barked when he sprawled over the rope. "say, perhaps the boys outside may get him!" gasped another scout, who must have had the breath squeezed out of his lungs when the balance of the eager squad fell over him heavily, making a cushion of his body. "only hope they do," grumbled nuthin. "but say, what's that you've picked up, paul? looks mighty like a hat!" "it is a hat, and fellows, i've got a pretty good notion i've seen it before," responded the scout leader, as he held the object aloft. the others crowded around, every eye fastened on the article picked up by paul just under the window that had afforded the fugitive a chance to escape. "it's ward's lid, as sure as you live!" declared bobolink, immediately. "that's what it is," observed another, with conviction in his tone; "ain't i had it in my hands more'n once at school? that was ward in here, doing these stunts!" "well," added paul, cautiously, "it looks that way; but how do we know? we didn't see his face, you remember. it might be another fellow wearing his hat. this might satisfy the trustees that we didn't have anything to do with the ringing of the bell; but i'd like to have better proof, fellows." "what's all that talking going on out there?" demanded nuthin, who had seated himself, the better to get at his bruised shin, and ease the pain by rubbing. bobolink drew himself up into the window; and as he did so his hat also fell off. "there," declared paul, quickly, "you see just how it happened to the fellow with the black face; and he was in too big a hurry just then to drop down again, so he could get his hat." "what's all the row about, bobolink? have they got the slippery coon?" asked philip towne, a member of the second patrol. "peter grabbed our chum as he was running after the shadow," replied the boy perched on the windowsill. "he's shaking him as if he believed it was william up to some of his old tricks, and that he rang that bell. now the other boys are crowding around trying to pull him off." "but what about ward? has he gotten clean away?" asked a disappointed one, of the lookout. "looks as if they couldn't flag him," came the answer in dejected tones; "anyhow, i don't see any fellows holdin' a prisoner. let's get outside, and help explain to peter, boys." so they went straggling back to the exit, and passed outside, paul leaving the burning lamp in the vestibule as proof of his story. peter was an excitable german, who had been very good to the boys. indignant at what he thought to be an exhibition of base ingratitude on their part, he had shaken william until the lad's teeth rattled. "you vill wake up de goot beoples mit your rackets, hey?" the old sexton was crying, "i knows apout how you does all de times, villiam carberries, ain't it? mebbe you t'ink it fun to ring dot pell like dot, unt pring all de neighbors aroundt mit a rush. hey! vat you poys say? he didn't pull dot rope? who did, den, tell me dot? mebbe i didn't grab mit him as he vas runnin' away! hello! mister scout leader, how vas dot?" paul had come up while william was being shaken like a rat in the clutches of a terrier. "say, paul, tell him, for goodness sake," stammered the innocent victim, as he squirmed in the clutches of the indignant sexton, "ask him to let up on this rough house business. i'm just falling to pieces!" "wait a minute, peter," the scout leader immediately called out, "william was with the rest of us down in the basement at the time the bell began to ring. we all started to try and catch the fellow who pulled the rope; but i'm afraid he got away. he went through the church, and out of an open window. you can see for yourself when you go inside, that he tied a rope to trip any of us when we chased him." peter eased up his hold, and the agile william broke away, as if only too glad to be able to catch his breath again. "yes, and peter, we know who it was, too!" declared nuthin, eagerly. "that is, we think we do," broke in paul, holding up his find. "this hat dropped when he climbed up to the window. and a lot of us have seen it before." "why, it belongs to ward kenwood!" exclaimed jud elderkin, as he bent forward to take a better look at the captured headgear. "how do you know?" asked paul, for a purpose. "well, i've seen it on him lots of times," came the unhesitating reply. "there may be a few hats like it in stanhope, but they're scarce as hen's teeth. besides, i've got my private mark on that hat. look inside, and see if there isn't a circle and two cross bars, made with a pen on the sweat band?" paul stepped over to the street light close by, and examined the inside of the hat. "you're right, jud; here's the mark, sure enough. however did you come to put it there inside of ward's hat?" he asked, smiling. "oh!" answered jud, with a broad grin, "that was my idea of a little joke, fellows. i happened to find his hat one fine day at school, and having a pen in my hand, thought i'd give him something to puzzle his head about. so i made that high sign there. guess he wondered what it all meant, and if he was marked for a black hand victim. but you can roll your hoop, fellows, that this is ward's lid." "if we had only caught him, peter, you would know it was so," observed jack; who had led the crowd that rushed outdoors, and felt rather cheap because their intended game had succeeded in escaping. "look here, what's to hinder us going and collarin' him on his way home?" broke in bobolink, always conjuring up bright ideas. "that's so, paul. what d'ye think?" asked jack, eagerly. "a good idea," declared the one addressed, without stopping an instant; "and peter shall go along to be a witness, if we find that ward is minus his hat. perhaps we might be lucky enough to find that black mask in his pocket, too. and somehow, i've got a notion he had his hands rubbed with charcoal, to match his face. if we found that to be the case i guess the trustees would be ready to admit _we_ didn't have anything to do with this affair." "give the order then, paul. every one will want to go along; but that would be sure to queer the job. pick out several likely chaps, won't you?" asked jack. "sure i will. to begin with, jack, you stay to see about closing up shop. bobolink, you and bluff come with us; yes, and nuthin can trot along, too. that ought to be enough, with peter here to help." the german sexton was not so very dull of comprehension after all. and besides, he believed in paul morrison. he agreed to accompany the group of scouts on their strange errand, since jack promised to close all the windows, and remain in the basement until his return. accordingly the five walked away, vanishing in the darkness. paul suspected that one or more of the enemy might be concealed close by, hoping to learn what they meant to do; and so he had lowered his voice when speaking. he led the way, passing through several side streets until finally they found themselves close to the fine residence of mr. kenwood, the banker. "say, i happen to know that ward always uses the back gate when he goes out nights," ventured nuthin, in a whisper, close to paul's ear. this was important news, and the scout leader was not slow to take advantage of it. so they found a place close to the rear gate, and crouched low, waiting. slowly the minutes passed. the town clock struck the half hour, though it seemed to some of the watchers that they must have been on duty for ages. "that's him coming," said nuthin at length, in the lowest of voices; "i know his whistle all right. he's feelin' right merry over givin' us the ha! ha!" "'sh!" warned paul, just then; and as the whistler drew rapidly closer the five crouching figures prepared to spring out upon him. chapter iv catching a tartar "now!" exclaimed paul, suddenly. at the word a number of dark figures sprang erect, coming out of the denser shadows alongside the gate in the high fence back of the kenwood grounds. ward was of course startled. the whistle came to an abrupt termination. perhaps he may even have recognized the voice that called out this one word in such a tone of authority; for while he did not make any outcry he turned as if to flee. it was already too late, for bobolink, as if forseeing some such clever move on the part of the slippery customer, had so placed himself that he was able to cut off all retreat. then many hands were clutching the garments of the banker's son, and despite his vigorous struggles he found himself held. while it was far from light back there, he seemed to be able to divine who his captors were, judging from the way he immediately broke out in a tirade of abuse. "better keep your hands off me, paul morrison," was the way he ranted; "and you too, bobolink and jud! what d'ye mean holding me up like this, right at our own gate too? i'll tell chief billings about it, and perhaps you'll find yourselves pulled in. let go of me, i tell you! how dare you grab me this way?" it need hardly be said that not one of the boys addressed showed the least intention of carrying out the wishes of the speaker. in fact, to tell the truth, each one of the scouts seemed to tighten his grip. one thing paul noticed, and this was the fact that ward did not raise his voice above an ordinary tone. he was angry, possibly alarmed, too; but somehow he did not seem to care about shouting so as to arouse his folks. from this it was easy for paul to guess that ward must have been ordered to remain indoors on this night; and did not wish his father to know he had been roaming the streets with ted slavin and his cronies. of late ted had been getting into unusually bad odor with the town people, and perhaps mr. kenwood was trying to break off the intimacy known to exist between his son and the prime prank player of stanhope. "see, his hat's gone, paul!" exclaimed nuthin. "huh! what of that?" echoed the ever ready ward, "guess i loaned it to another fellow who lost his, and had the toothache." it may have seemed an ingenious excuse to him, and one calculated to cast doubts on any accusation that might be made, with the idea of connecting him with the boy who rang the big bell. paul, however, believed he could afford to laugh at such a clumsy effort to crawl out of the responsibility. "peter," he said, briskly, "you look him over, and see if you can find a black mask in any of his pockets. you know i told you the fellow who ran out through the church after dropping the bell rope had his face hidden back of such a disguise." ward gave utterance to an exclamation of surprise. evidently this was the very first that he knew about the presence of the sexton. "don't you dare do it, peter," he said, struggling violently to break the hold of his captors, but without success; "don't you put a hand in my pocket, you old fool, or i'll get you bounced from your job so quick you won't know what struck you! leave me alone, i tell you!" that was the customary cowardly threat ward made when he found himself caught in any of his madcap pranks. his rich father was a man of considerable influence in stanhope, and many a man dared not treat the banker's son to the whipping he so richly deserved simply because it might be that his bread and butter depended in a measure on the good will or the whim of the magnate. but the sexton did not seem to be disturbed. perhaps he had little reason to believe mr. kenwood could influence the trustees of the church to dispose of his services. then again, it might be that he received so small a sum for taking charge of the property, that he cared little whether he kept his job or not. at any rate, be that as it might, peter lost no time in starting to search the pockets of the squirming prisoner. ward tried in every way he could devise to render this task difficult; but then peter had half a dozen lads of his own over in the little white cottage near the church, and was doubtless accustomed to handling obstreperous boys. "vat is dis, poys?" he asked, as he drew something into view. there was an immediate craning of necks, and then from several came the significant cry: "it is the black mask, all right! he's the guilty bell-ringer, peter!" "what's all this you're talking about, you sillies? i never saw that thing before. somebody must have stuck it in my pocket for a joke!" and ward stopped struggling, as if he knew it would no longer be to his advantage. when caught in a hole he could whip around like a flash, and change his tactics almost in an instant. "oh! is that so?" remarked paul, with a laugh; "well, i happened to remember just now i saw a mask that looked very much like this, down in the corner of chromo's news-store a few days ago. now, i'm going to ask peter to take it to him, in my company, and find out who bought it. at this time of year there isn't such a sale for these things but what mr. chromo will remember." "huh! think you're smart, don't you, morrison? even supposing i did buy it, you can't prove i ever wore it. i defy you to," ward gritted his teeth; and somehow his manner reminded paul of a wolf at bay. "snap!" the match which paul struck flared up. ward was staring at his captor, a sneer on his handsome face. "hold up his hands, fellows," said the young scout leader, suddenly; and almost before the prisoner realized what this move might mean, the burning match hovered over his blackened hands. peter uttered a snort of delight. "dot fix it mit you, mine friendt," he said, nodding his grizzled head as if pleased to find that paul's prediction had come true. "dey dells me dot poy vat rings de pell undt runs drough de church, he have his hand placked like he vas a negro. dot pe you, misder ward kenvood. i schnaps mine fingers at your vader's influenza. i shall dell de drustees of de church who rings dot pell. den it pe up to dem to say vat shall pe done. let him go, poys!" of course bobolink, jud and nuthin immediately released their hold on ward. the last flicker of the expiring match showed that the recent prisoner was scowling most hatefully, as if angry at the way he had been trapped. "this isn't the last of this, you fellows!" he said, trying to keep up his customary threatening tactics, even in defeat. "perhaps you think it smart to set up a game on me, just because you're afraid i'll organize a hike of my friends that'll walk all around that punk expedition of yours! but just wait; i'll show you that you're barking up the wrong tree. bah!" he turned his back on them with this last exclamation, intended to show his utter contempt. passing through the gate he vanished from their sight. but paul, who knew the fellow so well, felt quite sure that he would never venture to complain to his father, as he had threatened, for that course would disclose the fact that he was out, and bring trouble down on his own head. "back to your meeting place, fellows," said paul; "and you keep that mask, peter. to-morrow i'll drop in on you, and we'll see mr. chromo. i don't suppose anything will ever be done to ward about it; but anyhow we can convince the trustees who were so kind as to let us use the gymnasium once a week, that we didn't abuse their confidence. and that's worth while." accordingly the scouts trooped back to the place from which they had started, where they found that jack had carefully carried out the orders given by his superior. peter was taken inside to notice the rope fastened across the aisle; together with half a dozen seat cushions distributed around, doubtless intended to trip any pursuers who might not be wise enough to follow in the footsteps of the fleeing culprit. after that the boys scattered, heading toward their homes in groups. as they went they divided their chatter between the recent happening, and the important news concerning the summer "hike" that had been announced that night. paul and his closest chum, jack stormways, walked together, as they usually did. they had much to confer about, and jack now and then laughed as he listened to what the other was saying about the hold-up of ward. "i tell you that was mighty bright of you, showing old peter the smudge of black on the bell rope, which proved that ward was the fellow who jerked it," he said, giving his chum a whack of genuine boyish approval on his back. "well," chuckled paul, himself pleased over his little method of proving the guilt of his rival, "peter got the charcoal all over his hands when he ran them up and down the rope, so he knows there could be no mistake. i gave him ward's hat to keep for the present too. but it's too much to hope that anything will be done. even if mr. kenwood doesn't attend this church, some of the trustees are connected with him in business, either in his bank, or the real estate end." "oh! the same old story," groaned jack. "that fellow makes me tired! when ward gets caught, instead of putting up a bold face, he just crawls, and threatens every one with the power of his governor. i'd just like to see him get his, some day!" "hold on. don't forget you are a scout, and that you've got to look for the good that is in every fellow, they say," laughed his companion. "all right," admitted jack, slowly, "but i just guess you'd need a magnifying glass to find the speck of good in that cur. he's a sure enough slick one. all i want him to do is to keep away from me. his room is better than his company, any day." "i'm ready to back you up in that last remark, jack," said paul, "for if any fellow in stanhope has reason to despise ward kenwood and his sneaky ways, i ought. you know he's been my rival in most things ever since we were knee high to grasshoppers." "but in nearly every case he's come out of the little end of the horn," declared jack, warmly; "i'm ready to count on my chum getting there!" "oh! well," said paul, hastily, "that's because he's nearly always in the wrong, you know. if ward would only turn over a new leaf, and act decently, i'm sure he'd make a rival to be respected, if not feared." but his chum only scoffed at such a thing, exclaiming: "oh! splash! you know the bushkill will be running uphill before either ward or ted act on the square. hasn't slavin promised to reform more than a few times; and look at what he's doing still! get that idea out of your head, paul." "well, they did give us a run for our money to-night, to be sure," laughed his team-mate, as in fancy he once more saw the struggling heap of boys sprawling in the aisle of the church, when they struck the rope that had been slily stretched to trip unwary feet. "you're right there," returned jack, warmly, "and i can take a joke as well as the next one; only these fellows have no respect for anything. think of that big bell booming out at such an hour of the night, will you? why, it must have startled some sleepers almost out of their seven senses." "let's forget it then," continued the scout leader; "for we'll have our hands full in getting ready for that great hike up to rattlesnake mountain. every time i think of it i seem to have a thrill. you see i've had a sneaking notion i'd like to prowl around that lonesome district, and learn for myself what it looks like; and now we've made up our minds to do it, i just can't hardly realize it." "a bully good plan, and i know we're going to have the time of our lives. look, who's coming over there, paul?" and jack allowed his voice to sink as he spoke, just as though he wished to avoid being heard by the party he indicated. "why, that was mr. clausin," said paul, in a shocked voice, as the other walked past them, giving both a keen glance as he did so, while his face took on an expression of disappointment. "yes," murmured jack, in a disturbed tone, "and how changed he looks! there must have been something about those stolen papers more than any of us know. he's been to the feed store again to make another search. perhaps he can't get it out of his head that he didn't hide them somewhere. poor man, i wish we could help him get them back. joe's a good fellow, and a true scout. i'd be mighty glad to see him look happy again." "so would i," said paul, earnestly; "but hold on--don't show that you're interested, only step aside into this shadow. there's some one following mr. clausin, and when he passes that electric light over there i just must get a peep at his face. whoever he is, jack, i believe the fellow is a stranger in stanhope! 'sh!" "oh!" gurgled jack, clutching his chum's arm convulsively. chapter v getting ready for the great hike "can you see him yet, paul?" whispered jack, presently; for he had dropped behind his companion, and his view was slightly hindered. "yes, he seems to be following mr. clausin," returned the patrol leader, in an awed tone. "whatever ought we to do?" demanded jack. "perhaps he may be one of the same crowd that robbed the feed store. and now he is following joe's father home! oh! paul, do you think he means to hold him up, or find out where he lives, so he can steal something more?" "i don't know," returned paul, dubiously; "but we can't stay here and let this thing go on." "that's what i say, too," jack hastened to say, as he once more reached his feet. "shall we call, and bring some of the fellows around? you know how to bark like a fox better than any other scout in the troop. give the distress signal, paul. if there's any fellow within a block of us he's bound to hurry this way." but paul hesitated. "that might do the job all right; but at the first sign of danger don't you expect this fellow would disappear? how could we prove anything, then, jack; tell me that?" "but if you won't do what i say, i'm sure it's because you've got something else on tap that is better. put me wise to it, paul," begged jack. "come on then; we mustn't lose sight of that fellow. walk fast, because we ought to pass him by," observed the scout leader, starting out. "but paul, you don't mean to tackle him, do you?" asked his chum, thrilled by the prospect of an encounter with the unknown. "why, not if i know it! he isn't likely to say or do anything when we hurry past him, you see," came paul's low reply. "oh! i get on now;" whispered jack, as he clung to the arm of his mate; "you expect to warn mr. clausin! that's a good idea. he'd know what to do, of course." involuntarily paul caressed the left sleeve of his khaki coat, where the red silk badge that indicated his right to the exalted office of assistant scoutmaster was fastened, just above the silver one telling that he was also a second class scout patrol leader. "why should it," he said in reply; "when our motto is always 'be prepared'? but don't say anything more, jack, just now." his companion saw the wisdom of what he said, for they had been rapidly overtaking the figure that was trailing after mr. clausin. the man looked back over his shoulder several times, as though he had caught the sound of their footsteps, and was interested. paul noticed, however, that he did not show any intention of slinking away, and he wondered at this. when the boys passed him the man simply lowered his head, so that the brim of his hat would shield his face. he gave no sign that he felt any annoyance, and paul could hear his chum breathe a sigh of relief. evidently jack was keyed up to a point close to an explosion. mr. clausin was now only a short distance ahead, and they hurried faster, so as to overtake him quickly. "why, is that you, paul?" he asked, as, hearing the patter of steps close behind, he turned hastily. "yes, sir," replied the scout leader, somewhat out of breath from his exertions, "we wanted to catch you before you left the town limits, sir." "to catch me," returned the gentleman, showing signs of interest. "and why, may i ask, paul?" "oh! mr. clausin," broke in jack at this juncture, "somebody is following you--a man who seems to be a stranger in town! after what happened last night we thought you ought to know it. there he is, standing in the shadow of that big elm back there." to the utter astonishment of the two boys the gentleman, instead of showing any alarm, such as they expected, seemed amused. he even chuckled, as though something bordering on the humorous took the place of fear. "it was very kind of you, boys, to follow after me to give me warning," he said, laying a hand on each of them. "but this time i rather suspect it's going to turn out to be a flash in the pan. because, you see, my lads, i just said good-night to that same stranger at the door of my place of business, where we have been holding a consultation. possibly he took a notion to see me safely home, not knowing but what i might be held up a second time." "oh!" exclaimed jack, in a disappointed tone, "then he's a friend of yours, sir? how silly we have been! we thought we might be doing you a service in warning you. come along, paul; let's fade away!" "not just yet, boys, please," said mr. clausin. "your intentions were all right, and for that i'm a thousand times obliged. besides, you did me a great favor last night, one i'm not likely to forget. i want you to meet my friend. he's expressed himself as one who believes in the great movement you lads represent in this town." then raising his voice he called out: "mr. norris, step this way, please!" immediately the shadowy figure started toward them. it was evident that the mysterious gentleman must have partly guessed the mission of the boys, for he was chuckling softly to himself as he came up. "this is something of a joke on me, mr. clausin," he remarked, as if amused. "to think of one in my line of business being outwitted by a couple of lads. but then even lawyers will have to look to their laurels when they run up against boys who have been trained in the clever tactics of this scout movement. am i right in believing one of these chaps must be paul?" "yes, this one, mr. norris; and the other is his friend, jack stormways, of whom i was also speaking to you," replied the merchant. "glad to meet you, boys, and shake hands with you both," observed mr. norris warmly. "i've got a couple of my own boys down in the city, who are just as wild over this scouting business as you fellows up here seem to be. and my friend clausin here, has been telling me a few interesting things in connection with a runaway horse, and a burning house. such evidences make me feel more positive than ever that only good can come out of the organization you belong to." of course the boys hardly knew what to say in connection with such a handsome compliment; but they returned the warm pressure of the gentleman's hand. "i ought to tell you, paul," remarked mr. clausin just then, "that this gentleman is my lawyer. i wired him to come up here and see me, as i wished to consult him about those papers which are so strangely missing. you see, i have a pretty good idea who may have taken them, and their loss complicates matters very much. so i was in need of advice. besides, i was in hopes mr. norris, who is a smart man in his class, might be able to suggest some way in which i could recover the papers." paul was more than ever interested now in those missing documents. he could not help wondering what their nature could be to give their late owner so much distress of mind. and besides, he was puzzled to understand just how mr. clausin hoped to ever set eyes on them again. would the thief open up communications with him, and demand a ransom for their return? these things kept cropping up in his mind long after he had said good-night to the two gentlemen, and even separated from his chum. they came back to him when he woke up in the middle of the night, and lay there in his own snug little room at home, where he was surrounded by shelves of books, trophies of contests on the athletic field, and such other things as the heart of a healthy lad loves. there was something very singular in the manner of mr. clausin when he referred to the contents of the little tin box. paul disliked very much to give anything up; but it was only groping in the dark to try and solve the puzzle without more of a clue than he possessed. besides, the regular scoutmaster being off on one of his periodical business trips, much of the duty of preparing for the long trip into the wilderness devolved on paul. school was just over for the summer, and every member of the troop seemed to be bubbling with enthusiasm in connection with the contemplated outing. nothing like it had ever been attempted before; and scores of things must be looked after. by the time the scouts got in camp they expected mr. gordon, the scoutmaster, to join them, and take charge. but it would be upon paul to make all necessary preparations, secure the supplies, look after the tents, packing of knapsacks, blankets, and such food as they would need. no one could have been found better equipped for such a task. paul loved all outdoors, and for some years had spent every bit of time he could during his vacations away from town. he was a good swimmer, knew all about the best way to revive a person who had been in the water a perilous length of time, and besides, had studied the habits of both game fishes and the inhabitants of the woods, fur, fin and feather. it can be readily understood then, how he threw himself heart and soul into the task of getting stanhope troop in readiness for the long trip. some of the boys' parents were worried about letting their boys go so far away; in fact three were sent to visit distant relatives just to keep them from temptation; but this move made discontented boys during the entire summer; for they had set their hearts on being with their fellow scouts, and felt that they were missing the time of their lives. when only one more day remained before the time arranged for the departure of the troop, paul, on "counting noses," found that he might expect just twenty-two besides himself to make the grand march. "it's going to be a success!" ventured jack, as he and his chum went over the roster on that preceding night, checking off all those who had solemnly agreed to be on hand in the morning. "i hope so," replied paul, seriously; "but i'd feel better if i knew what we were going to buck against up there at rattlesnake mountain, and that's a fact." that was a boy's way of putting it; but perhaps had he been granted that privilege paul might have been appalled at the array of adventures in store for them. chapter vi on guard just after he had finished his supper that evening, jack stormways was called to the telephone in his house. "hello! jack, this is paul," came a voice. "do you suppose your folks would let you camp out to-night down at the church, along with me?" "what's that?" exclaimed jack, more than a little surprised; for it had been decided, as the boys would be needing a good rest before starting off on their long and tiresome journey, there was to be no meeting on this night. "bobolink just had me on the wire," went on paul, quietly; "and what d'ye suppose he told me? he got a hint that our friends, the enemy, mean to be at it again. this time they are thinking of doing something that will upset all our calculations about starting out to-morrow." "but how--i don't just get hold of that, paul? every fellow has pledged himself to be on hand, rain or shine. how can they hold us back?" asked jack, who had been partly stunned by the sudden shock of hearing such news. "oh they won't try to," remarked the scout leader; "but then you see what would be the use of our tramping away up there in the rattlesnake mountain country if we had no tents to sleep under, and nothing to eat?" "but we have tents, and you bought enough bacon and supplies to last the whole outfit for two weeks anyhow! oh! paul, do you mean--would they dare try to dump all that fine grub in the creek, and perhaps ruin our new tents?" jack's voice trembled with indignation as he said this; for the real meaning of what his comrade was hinting at had suddenly burst upon him. "don't forget that ted slavin and ward kenwood lead that other crowd," remarked paul, soberly; "and that times without number in the past they've shown how little they cared for other people's rights when they wanted to do anything mean. bobolink had it on pretty good authority. i rather guess one of the enemy got cold feet, and thought it was going too far; so he threw out a hint." "bully for him, then, whoever he was! but what are you going to do about it, paul?" demanded the boy at the other end of the wire. "just what i said--get a few fellows to camp out to-night in the gymnasium under the church where all our things are heaped up. bobolink says he can come. i'll ask william if either he or wallace could join us. four should be enough to hold the fort, don't you think, jack?" "sure! we know they're a punk crowd anyhow, when it comes to trouble; ready to run at the drop of the hat," observed jack, contempt in his tone. "will you be there, then?" continued paul, eagerly. "after all, it will only be beginning our camping experience one day in advance, for to-morrow night we expect to sleep under canvas, you know. ask your father, jack?" "oh!" exclaimed his chum, "he'll say yes, right off the reel. he never forgets the time he was a boy, and often says he envies me the good times we have. when will you drop in for me?" "about half an hour from now. got some things to do first," came the reply. "do you want me to take my gun along?" queried jack, anxiously. "oh! no, it isn't that bad a case," laughed paul, amused. "we ought to be able to handle things without going to such extremes. besides, you know, i carried a number of those stout sticks into the gym the other day, and william amused himself fastening a lot of cloth around them, so that they look like the stuffed club we used in the minstrel show last winter. william is just itching to use one on some poor wretch. perhaps he might get the chance to-night. so-long, jack." "i'll look for you in half an hour then!" called his chum. "about that," replied paul. "i'll have these little medicine cases finished by then. mother has been helping me with them. she used to belong to the red cross society at one time; and besides, a doctor's wife has need of knowing about stuff that's good for stomach-aches, colds, snake bites and such things." that half hour seemed next door to an eternity to the impatient jack. every time he allowed himself to think of the vandals throwing all their carefully gathered stores around, and perhaps cutting great holes in those lovely khaki-colored tents, warranted waterproof by the maker, jack nearly "threw a fit," as he expressed it, in his boyish way. finally there was a ring at the door, and the young scout flew to let his chum in. "oh! i hope you haven't overdone it, paul, and waited too long," he said, as he snatched up his cap, and prepared to hurry out of the door. "why," replied paul coolly, "it was hardly a half hour; and i told the boys to meet us down at the campus of the high school about eight. there, you can hear the clock striking now. you're nervous, that's all, jack." "i reckon i am, for it seemed to me you were hours coming. i hope they don't try any of their games before we get on deck," observed the anxious scout. "not much danger of that, because, you see it's too early in the night. when fellows are up to any mean dodge they like to wait till all honest people are abed. the thief shuns a light, you know; and even ted slavin hunts up a dark place when he tries to play one of his tricks." paul spoke as though he had made a study of the town bully, and knew his weak points, which was the actual truth. "why can't they let us alone?" grunted jack, falling into step with his comrade, as they walked down the street. "we never think of bothering them; it's always the other way. they just like to act ugly about things; and it's worse since we won that banner for our troop. but you know they're intending to hike out up in the same quarter we've selected? that was done with a purpose too, paul, mark me!" "i'm afraid so," returned his comrade, slowly; "and just as like as not they expect to give us trouble while we're in camp. well," and his voice took on a vein of determination that told how he was aroused at the thought of what might happen; "there must be a limit to even the forbearance of a scout, you know; and if they push us too far, we will have to teach them a lesson!" "that's the ticket, paul. i can stand just so much of this being meek and forgiving; but it ain't in boy nature to keep it up everlastingly. some fellows think it a big joke. and a sound licking will open their eyes better than soft soap. ask william if that isn't so!" "it's all to the good, i'm telling you, and that's no lie," observed the party in question, whom they found sitting on the fence adjoining the green fronting the handsome high school, and whom jack had discovered at the time he was venting his views. "where's bobolink?" demanded the leader. "oh! he was here a bit ago," returned william, who had always been considered ready to fight in the old days before the scout movement struck stanhope; and who was loth to forsake his former ways, even while endeavoring to remain a member in good standing in the troop. "but why didn't he stop with you? i told him to wait here," returned paul. "you see, we talked it over," explained william, "and got the notion that, as we didn't know how long you might be getting around, one of us had better begin to scratch gravel. so he drew the prize, and hiked around to the church to stand guard." "oh!" observed paul, relieved that it was no worse, "in that case perhaps we'd better be moving along. now, it may be that the slavin crowd have a picket out so as to watch the gym, and see if any of us come around. we must be careful how we crawl up to the door. come on, both of you." they talked in whispers as they made a long detour, so as to approach the church from the rear. "got the key to the gym door, haven't you, paul?" asked william. "sure i have," replied the other, readily enough, "i asked old peter for it this afternoon. thought that perhaps i might want to get in to look over the stuff for the last time." "that's good. d'ye suppose they would break a window if they found the door locked?" continued william, who always wanted to know all particulars. "huh!" grunted jack, at this remark; "such a little thing as breaking a pane of glass wouldn't stand in their way long, if they had a big job to tackle. i wouldn't put it past such reckless fellows to set fire to the church if hard pushed. if they stopped at that it would only be from fear of being found out, and punished by the law, not anything else. huh! don't i know that ted, though?" "'sh!" came from paul at this juncture, and all of them lapsed into absolute silence; for they were now drawing near the old stone building that had sheltered the leading congregation of stanhope since before the civil war. paul had been observing things as he came along. first of all he noted that it was not as dark a night as when the bell of the church had been suddenly tolled. a young moon hung tremblingly in the western sky, promising to increase steadily in size, and give them more than one brilliant night while on their big excursion. besides, an electric street light was in full force that had been out of business the other night. he also noted the lay of the land near the church. this was familiar to him, as he had played around this spot, off and on, for years. paul knew just where every tree reared its leafy branches, and could easily in his mind plan a mode of approaching the rear of the building without once leaving the shelter of the shadows. so they stalked along, and were soon hugging the stone walls. thus far all seemed quiet and peaceful. if any of the slavin crowd were in the near vicinity they must be keeping under cover. a pinch on his arm told paul that jack, with his keen eyes, had discovered something he deemed suspicious. "where?" he managed faintly to whisper in the ear of his chum. "ahead, by the sun dial," came in reply. paul remembered that something had happened to the old fashioned sun-dial that used to stand in the cemetery connected with the church; and that it had been placed up against the wall of the building. he knew, because he had once fallen over it in the darkness. looking closely he could just make out some object seemingly perched on the stone that offered a seat to the weary one. it might be bobolink, and then again there was always a possibility that the figure would prove to be that of an enemy on the watch. paul had instituted a system of signals whereby two scouts of the stanhope troop could communicate, should they happen to draw near one another in the dark, and wish to unite forces. accordingly he now took a little piece of wood out of his pocket, also a steel nail, and with the latter tapped several times upon the bit of veneering. immediately they saw the sitting boy begin to fumble, as though he might be getting something out of his pocket. then came an answering series of staccato taps, soft yet clear. "o. k." "number three," whispered paul, gently. "i'm your candy!" came the reply, as the figure stood up at attention. "anything doing around here?" asked jack, cautiously as they joined forces. "haven't seen a blessed thing but a young rabbit, that came nosing around. guess that swift bunch hasn't showed up yet," returned the sentry. "it's just as well," remarked paul; "and please talk in whispers. here's the door, so just wait till i unlock it." a minute later and they found themselves inside the basement of the church, which was used as a gymnasium for the boys; there being no y. m. c. a. in the town. "do we get a light?" asked bobolink, as he stared into the darkness. "better not," advised paul, "for that would give the whole thing away. the whole stack of things is piled up in the center, so we needn't tumble over it. and william, you know where to put your hand on those clubs, don't you?" "that's a cinch," chuckled the other, quickly. "you fellows just hang out here, and let me get busy. oh! what a chance it looks like to try my little game of tag. talk to me about baseball! why, it won't be in the same class with what we'll do to the other fellows, if they give us half a chance! oh! me, oh! my! yum, yum!" william came back presently, and handed each of his mates one of the padded clubs he had worked on so industriously, in the expectation that some fine day they might come in useful. perhaps that hour had arrived; at least william had high hopes. paul, meanwhile, had secured some blankets from the pile, and each of them made as comfortable a bed as was possible in the darkness. "nothing like getting used to bunking on the hard floor?" grunted bobolink, after he had fussed around for fully ten minutes, complaining that the boards hurt his bones when he lay on his side. "now silence!" came from paul, in a tone of authority; and after that no one dared to utter a single word in the way of conversation. chapter vii "be prepared" "paul!" jack's groping hand gripped the arm of his chum as he gave vent to this whisper. "yes," came the low reply close at hand, showing that paul was awake, and alert. "did you hear it?" asked jack, eagerly. bobolink was breathing heavily on his blankets, and it seemed as though he must have been the first one to get to sleep, after all his complaining about the hardness of his bed. "yes. some one shook the door," answered the patrol leader, still whispering. "that was what i thought. shall i wake bobolink and william?" asked jack. "let me do it. if one of them gave a shout it would tell that we had a guard in here." paul, while saying this, started to crawl to where number three was enjoying a nap. he shook him gently, and when that failed to arouse bobolink, the motion was increased. "hey! what are you----" but further sound was instantly cut off by paul's clapping his hand over bobolink's mouth. "keep still! they're at the door right now!" he breathed into the ear of the struggling one. that seemed to tell bobolink what it all meant. no doubt his first impression had been that the enemy had stolen a march on them, and meant to make them prisoners in their own quarters. he ceased to squirm, and encouraged by this paul by degrees removed his muffling hand, so that bobolink could breathe freely again. the sounds had commenced once more. william was also sitting up by now, and fairly quivering with eagerness, as he fondled the extra large club he had selected for his individual use. voices, too, reached their ears, as though the unknown parties without, finding themselves balked by the fact that the door was locked, were conferring as to how they might gain entrance. "maybe they've gone and made a duplicate key," suggested william, as he and the other three scouts put their heads close together. no one thought it at all out of the question. they had run up against these energetic plotters so often in the past, that they were well acquainted with their ways; and nothing surprised them in connection with ted slavin's crowd. "perhaps we'd better move closer to the door, so as to be ready in case they do push in," paul said, leading the way. creeping across the floor of the gymnasium, they hovered close to the entrance. all of them gripped their novel weapons of offense and defense with a grim determination to give a good account of themselves when the chance arrived. as for william, he was fairly shivering with impatience. several times he swished his club through the air, as though eager to test its qualities on an unlucky intruder; so that paul had finally to warn him against such indiscreet action. the voices without came more plainly now. evidently the plotters were disputing as to their best course under the circumstances, some being for one thing, and the balance for another. "oh! rats!" came a voice that paul easily recognized as belonging to ted slavin himself; "who's afraid? go get the old gravestone, boys, and we'll ram her through the door like soup. it's only a weak door anyhow." "yes," came in ward's cautious tones, "but that would be destroying church property, and we could be punished for it. better try and open a window, fellows. bud here knows where there's a weak catch, don't you, bud?" "huh! i unscrewed the catch myself," came in still another voice; "that's how it's weak. but we can get in that way easy, boys. if you say the word, ted, i'll creep in and open the door in the back, where old peter chases his ashes out in winter time." "you're the candy-boy, bud. do it right away. and we'll be awaitin' there at the ash door, ready to push in when you open up. get a move on you, now." when ted spoke in that strain he meant business, and few among his cronies ever dared hesitate. he ruled his camp followers through sheer force of brutal instincts; and many a head had ached in consequence of that bony fist coming in contact with it, when a dispute had to be settled. paul gave a tug at the sleeve of jack, who, recognizing the signal, passed it on to william; and in turn he notified the remaining member of the quartette. thus they were presently all in motion, making a careful detour around the pile of camping material that occupied the middle of the floor. some boys seem to be gifted with the remarkable faculty of seeing in the dark, that a cat enjoys. jack was of the opinion that his chum must surely be favored in this way, judging from his success in moving about through that darkness without tumbling over obstacles. the furnace room was off the gymnasium. gaining the door paul passed through, and presently came to a number of metal receptacles in which old peter stored the ashes until such time as he thought fit to get a wagon around to take the refuse away. most of them were still full and running over, for peter had kept putting off his last cleaning up, owing to an attack of rheumatism. "every fellow pick out his can and hide behind it," whispered paul. when he understood that this had been done he himself slipped back to the connecting door, intending to watch for the coming of bud. presently sounds proceeded from a window near by, one of the small ones that in the daytime gave light to the gymnasium. looking intently in that quarter, paul was soon able to make out a moving object; for he had the sky with its stars and young moon as a background. then came a series of grunts, announcing that bud was pushing his way in through the little opening, after having gently forced the catch of the swinging window. paul could hear the sound of his heels striking on the boards of the gymnasium floor. and just as he had anticipated, the intruder was supplied with matches, for he immediately struck a light, in order to look around, and get his bearings. paul thought it time to beat a silent retreat in the direction of the ashcan he had selected as his cover. when settling down he managed to give the signal that the other three would recognize as denoting caution, and that they must remain on the alert every second of the time. now bud was coming. paul could hear him stumbling along, grumbling when he banged into the open door, simply because his sense of observation had not been so highly developed as had that of the young scout leader. but by striking another match bud managed to locate the cause of his trouble. he was glimpsed by paul, spying around the edge of his screen, and seemed to be rubbing his forehead vigorously, as though he might have raised a lump there in his contact with the door. some one pounded from without. "hi! there, bud, what's keeping you?" demanded ted, gruffly, unable to control his impatience. "all right, i'm here. but you'll have to wait a little, fellers," said bud, who had struck a third match in order to size up the situation around the neighborhood of the exit. it was rather strange that in looking about him he failed to discover some sign of the presence of those four forms cowering behind as many tall ashcans; but perhaps this was because they managed to keep well out of sight. "what's the matter in there? why don't you open up?" called ted, again rapping his knuckles on the wooden barrier. "hold on! there's a lot of cans heaped up with ashes in the way. i'll have to move a bunch of 'em first, before i kin open the door," declared bud; and to himself he muttered: "and i just don't like the looks of this hole any too much, tell yuh that, now. reckon theys a hull heap of rats ahangin' around here. ugh! what a fool i was to come in here anyhow. gee! listen, would you?" a sudden squealing sounded somewhere close to the feet of bud. it was exactly like the angry cry of a fighting rat. but paul understood instantly that bobolink must be the cause of all this racket; for he had known his friend on numerous occasions to make good use of his gift as an amateur ventriloquist. bud was in a terrible state of mind. being very much afraid of rats he would have fled from the spot could he have known which way to go. twice he tried to strike a match, but each attempt proved a failure, on account of his extreme nervousness. and now he had no more matches with him, so that it was impossible to see the connecting door, through which his retreat must be conducted. ted was growing more and more angry outside. he used his knuckles on the door again, to emphasize his demand. "open up here, you lazybones! what ails you?" he roared, discretion giving way to rage at the delay, when his fingers were fairly itching to lay hold of those tents, and the balance of the camp stuff belonging to the boys he detested so much. "oh! i'm trying to do it, ted;" answered his tool within, "but you see the place is alive with great big rats. they're all around me in here, and wanting to take a nip out of my legs. oh! get out of that, hang you! one got me then! i bet he took a piece out of me as big as a baseball. they'll eat me alive! help! help!" but bud was mistaken. it was bobolink who had pinched him on the sly. still, since the other did not know this, his terror was just as much in evidence. "hurry up there, unless you want us to break the old door in!" called ted. "ah! go roll your hoop!" called out a voice just like the sharp twanging tones belonging to bud. "what's that you say?" shouted the astonished and enraged ted, who believed his slave was rising up in rebellion. "go chase yourself! i'm openin' as fast as i kin, an' if you talk till you're blind i aint agoin' to hurry any faster!" bobolink made bud appear to say. "aint, hey? just wait till i get hold of you, bud jones; if i don't make you eat them words, my name is mud!" exclaimed the furious leader, outside. "oh! i never said a word, ted, sure i didn't!" cried bud, still wrestling with the ashcans in the darkness, and kicking right and left at imaginary rats which he believed were advancing in a drove to snap at his shins. "oh! yes, tell that to the ducks, will you? every feller here heard what you said, too. i'm goin' to make you eat it just as soon as i get hold of you!" declared the furious leader, still bruising his knuckles in useless attacks on the boards of the door. bud jones was in the most terrible predicament of his whole life. beset by innumerable fierce foes as he believed within, there was that big bully outside, only waiting for a chance to give him a thrashing he would never forget. and the mysterious voice that sounded exactly like his own, startled him; for, not being a friend of bobolink's he probably never heard him give those strange imitations when making his voice appear to come from some other person. "i've got hold of the last can, ted!" he wailed, presently, after much tugging and another series of wild kicks into space; though he sometimes bruised his toe by striking it against one of the ash receptacles near by; "and i'm going to open up now; but please don't touch me. i never said a word against you, ted; it must have been the rats, i guess!" bobolink could hardly keep from bursting into a shout at this, for he knew that poor bud must be very near a complete breakdown through fright. "here it goes, fellers. now i'm startin' to tackle the door, if the varmints will give me half a chance," the intruder called out once more. he could be heard working away with all his energy at the heavy bar that secured the door, now and then giving a dismal little squeal, as in imagination he felt the sharp teeth of a rodent nipping him again cruelly. "oh! there it goes, ted!" he cried suddenly, as the bar fell on his feet. the door swung open, knocking poor bud over; for there was an immediate rush of many eager figures. so ted slavin led his backers into the furnace room of the church, where paul lay secreted behind an ashcan, flanked by three of his trusty and loyal scouts. chapter viii repulsing the enemy "wow! go slow, fellers!" called the first boy who pushed into the basement, urged on by the pressure of his comrades in the rear. "it's as black as a bag of cats, that's what!" exclaimed another, as he floundered among the ashcans. "oh! i'm nearly smothered! help me out, somebody!" wailed poor bud, who managed to receive a full peck of ashes over his head as he scrambled on the floor. "a light! hold up till we get the glim goin'!" called ted slavin, who had after all managed to twist around at the end, so that when the door finally opened he could push others ahead of him into the unknown depths of the gloom. that was often ted's way. he liked to bluster and rage, but frequently came out of a scrimmage in far better physical condition than those who had said less. some boys can always keep an eye out for the main chance; and ted seemed to belong to the number. now, the church was usually lighted by electricity. of late there had occurred some serious trouble with the insulation, and the main part of the structure had to go back to ancient lamp illumination, when any occasion arose. as this was summer, the night services had been discontinued until repairs could be made. paul, however, chanced to know that the little circuit in this rear basement had escaped the general slaughter. he had even tried turning on the light at one time when poking about curiously. and when he had taken up his location just now, it was close to the button which governed the two electric lights in the furnace room. paul thought that the time was about ripe to give these intruders the surprise of their lives. up to this moment they had been having things their own way; but why should he wait until some one managed to draw a match out of his pocket, and faintly illuminate the apartment? while the followers of ted were groping about among the scattered cans, and bud was sneezing violently as he tried to gain his feet there was suddenly a flash of dazzling light that almost blinded every one. at exactly the same instant there sounded the eager barking of what, to the alarmed intruders, seemed to be a small dog. but it was the signal of the fox patrol, and possessed a positive significance for every member of stanhope troop. "oh! look!" almost shrieked bud, as, having managed to recover his balance, he saw the figures of four active boys shoot up into view from behind as many tall ash receivers. the boy scouts never halted to count their foes. it was an occasion calling for speedy action. indeed, if they wished to take full advantage of the surprise, and complete the demoralization of the intruders, they must follow up their appearance on the scene with prompt measures. "at 'em, fellows!" cried paul, suiting the action to the word by smiting the nearest of the slavin crowd with the padded club he wielded. scissors dempsey promptly bowled over among the ashes, surprised, if not seriously hurt. "sweep 'em out!" exclaimed jack, whirling his instrument of torture around his head, and sending at least two of the intruders reeling. immediately a regular pandemonium ensued. ted saw that he had run into a hornet's nest, and like the wise general that he was, concluded that it was no place for a fellow who had any self respect. their little game was spoiled, that seemed evident, and it would be the height of folly to think of conducting a fight in the church basement, especially since punishment of a worse nature must follow when their parents learned about the disgraceful proceedings. accordingly ted gave the order to retreat. "skip out, every duck of you, tigers!" he called, hoarsely; "hey! get a move on you, scissors, bud,--everybody run!" the spirit was willing with his followers; but the flesh proved weak. the trouble was, they found themselves kept so busy dodging the descending padded clubs of paul and his friends, that they had little time for maneuvring toward the lone exit. william was in his glory. long had he been deprived of his favorite amusement; and he meant to take full advantage of this glorious opportunity to let the red blood in his veins have free swing. the way he whacked at the ducking followers of ted was certainly marvellous, and every time he made a hit he let out a series of gratified barks such as must have astonished any real red fox of the timber. one by one, however, the badly-used intruders sped out of the rear door, pursued by a parting volley of vigorous strokes, and breathing threats as they ran off. from the interior of the gymnasium came a series of noises that could mean only one thing--despairing of escaping in the same manner as his companions, who were lucky enough to be nearer the exit, scissors had darted through the connecting door, and that was him banging headlong into posts, or tripping over the various stacks of camping material on the floor. the furnace room was hazy with dust, occasioned by the tilting over of several ashcans; but paul could see that the enemy had been almost wholly expelled. among scouts a peculiar custom often prevails. each boy makes up his mind to do some sort of good turn to somebody during the day. in order to remind himself of this he frequently turns his badge upside-down until he has found an occasion to even the score. no matter how small the service, it must be something that brings a little pleasure or profit to another. well, paul grimly thought, as he drew out his handkerchief to wipe the perspiration from his face, if any of his chums had failed to find a chance during the day just past, to perform a service entitling them to a sense of self satisfaction, after this little excitement they could go to bed with clear consciences. for had they not shown several boys the truth of the old proverb, that the "way of the transgressor is hard," and would not this lesson be valuable in after life? "oh! shucks!" lamented william, as he leaned on his war-club, and looked as forlorn as one of his merry disposition ever could, "whatever did they run away for? i wasn't half through, yet. why, i don't believe i got in more than three decent licks at all! it's a shame, that's what!" paul was shutting and fastening the door again. he did not wish to have a volley of stones hurled through the opening by the vindictive boys they had put to flight. past experiences served to warn him as to what measures of retribution ted slavin and his kind usually undertook. "whew! what a mess! we'll have to get brooms, and a sprinkler busy here, so peter won't complain," he said, laughing as he looked around. "hello! look there! get next to the ghost, will you?" cried william, pointing to a wretched and forlorn figure that was emerging from the midst of the assembled ashes. it was the fore-runner of the slavin clan, the miserable bud jones. he had been tumbled over so many times during the excitement, by both friends and foes, that he must have lost all count. "oh! what a guy!" shrieked bobolink, holding his sides with laughter, as the disconsolate bud trailed out from his place of concealment. covered from head to feet with ashes, and minus his hat, he certainly presented a most comical appearance. but it was serious enough to bud. he judged others by what he knew of ted slavin's ways; and consequently fully expected that paul and his crowd would surely proceed to vent their ill humor on his poor head. "oh! please let me go, paul!" he whined, addressing himself to the one he recognized as the leader of the opposition; "i've got all i deserve, you see, and the worst is yet to come; for when my dad looks at this new suit i'm in for the most dreadful lickin' you ever heard about. don't kick a feller when he's down, will you, paul? please open that door again, an' let me scoot!" he knew what he was doing in addressing himself to paul morrison. perhaps another, like william or bobolink for instance, might think he deserved even more severe handling, to pay him for his share in the mean prank that had been nipped in the bud. but paul had a reputation for being fair, and was also known not to allow such a thing as a desire for revenge to take root in his heart. when paul surveyed the forlorn figure before him, with a thought as to what might await bud at home, for he had a stern father, he agreed with the other that apparently he had been already well punished. so he stepped over to unfasten the door again. "i hope this will be a lesson to you, bud," he remarked, while so doing. "oh! it sure will," bud responded, eagerly, "i'll know better than to crawl in a window, and let other fellers have the snap of waitin' till the door's swung open. i'll be mighty careful about that, after this, give you my word, paul." and that was all bud had learned from his experience. after this he would let ted snatch his own chestnuts out of the fire. small use trying to show such a chap the real significance of his wrong-doing. paul did not try, but opened the basement door. william and bobolink hastened to line up on either side. from the threatening manner in which they swung those terrible looking instruments of torture over their right shoulders, it seemed as though they wished to get in one last whack at the enemy before the incident was called closed. bud saw these dread preparations with renewed terror. he had already experienced several painful connections with those padded clubs, and was not sighing to renew his acquaintance. "please, paul, call 'em off! don't let 'em get a chance at me again! i'm all black an' blue now from tumbling around on the floor, with the fellers stampin' on me. boys, have a little mercy, won't you, now?" william looked at bobolink. then they exchanged winks, for it had really never been their intention to turn loose upon bud again. "well," said bobolink, "seeing that you've made up your mind to reform after this, p'raps we might let you off easy, bud. but the next time you get caught, oh! but you're going to get it. better quit that crowd, and try another tack. ted and ward have all the fun, and you fellows take the drubbings. think it over, bud!" it was not often bobolink talked like this. it happened, however, that once upon a time he and bud had been good friends. that was, of course, before they reached the parting of the ways, the latter choosing to throw in his fortunes with the slavin crowd, because he thought they had the most fun. "i'm going to, bobolink," responded the wretched fellow, a grain of thankfulness in his voice, "i'm beginning to get my eyes open. p'raps my dad'll make me promise never to go with ted again." but paul did not believe that bud had reached the point of seeing the full evil of his ways. had he done so he would never have made that remark about simply being tired of proving the scapegoat; and that the lesson he had learned would only make him wiser about acting as ted's scout. so bud hastened to leave the scene of his recent humiliation; and no sooner was he gone than paul again secured the door against intrusion. "are we going to get busy now?" asked william, as he fondly caressed the novel weapon with which he had recently harassed the would-be destroyers of the camp equipment, as though loth to lay it down for a broom. "wait a bit," remarked paul; "for unless i'm mistaken there's another tiger loose in the den of the fox!" as if to emphasize the truth of his words there came, just at that moment, a tremendous crash from the dark gymnasium near by. groans, and angry words testified to the fact that scissors dempsey was having his troubles of his own in trying to navigate that abyss of gloom, seeking to find the door, and escape by that means. "wow!" exclaimed william, once more tightening his grip on that war-club, while the light of battle glowed in his eyes; "i clean forgot that pilgrim in there. oh! for one last good belt at a slavin tiger. paul, get a lamp, won't you, and turn us loose in there. oh my! oh me, what luck!" "i suppose he's just got to be chased out of the place; and the sooner we do it the better," paul responded, advancing toward the connecting door. he knew just where to find the nearest lamp. it was close beside the door, and paul had stamped its location in his mind. accordingly, he struck a match and passed the portal. jack was at his heels, trying to hold the impetuous william and the equally belligerent bobolink in check; but unable to wholly do so. when the match was applied to the wall lamp it gave a dim light. the presence of electricity in the furnace room only made the contrast more positive. still, those eager boys possessed sharp vision, and almost instantly both william and his fellow scout discovered a moving figure at the other side of the gymnasium crawling out from under a wilderness of blankets and tents that had fallen upon him. chapter ix returning good for evil if paul could have had his own way just then he would have been in favor of allowing scissors a chance to make his escape. but he had a pair of impetuous comrades along; and aroused by the excitement of the occasion neither william nor bobolink thought of consulting his wishes. no sooner was the lamp lighted than they sprang forward toward the heaving heap of blankets and folded tents, where the alarmed intruder was trying to emerge from the avalanche he had brought down upon himself. some of the good brethren of the congregation might have felt inclined to hold up their hands in dismay could they have looked in there just at that moment, and seen all the weird goings-on that were taking place. still, an investigation would have proven that the scouts were not responsible for the scrimmage; since they had a perfect right to protect their possessions against attack. no sooner had scissors managed to emerge from the great heap of camp things than he was set upon by a couple of energetic scouts. he dodged most of the blows, aimed with such good will, though a few landed, and forced groans from the unhappy recipient. to tell the truth, the expression of terror was so strong on the face of the caged tiger that neither of his assailants could get much force in their strokes, so full of laughter had they become. paul himself walked over to unlock the door, wishing to end the ridiculous and unequal performance as soon as possible. and in so doing he happened to leave that single lighted lamp unguarded for just a minute. it proved doubly unfortunate, though no one could have possibly foreseen the catastrophe which came upon them so suddenly. scissors, in trying to avoid further punishment, had taken to running back and forth. he ducked whenever he believed one of those threatening clubs was about to descend upon his head, whirling to the right, and then to the left, almost wild at the prospect of being at the mercy of such seemingly savage enemies. he was too excited to understand that if he had only thrown up his hands, and called out that he surrendered not another blow would have fallen. nor could he guess that the ferocious aspect of these assailants was but a mask assumed to hide the huge grins that struggled for mastery on their faces. in making a last desperate plunge to escape william the fugitive happened to collide with a pair of oars that stood up against the wall in what was believed to be a secure place. one thing followed another, just as a line of bricks standing on end will bow to the fall of the leading one. scissors struck the oars and they in turn crashed against that single lighted lamp, knocking it from its cup! "oh!" exclaimed william, pausing in sudden horror, as he saw the lamp go down. there was a crash, and a shriek from scissors, who had tripped, and plunged headlong. paul saw a blaze of light; and he knew that the lamp had broken, depositing its dangerous fluid all around. kerosene in these days is not the same deadly explosive it used to be in other times; still, it will catch fire under certain conditions; and he saw that unless prompt measures were taken the church was doomed! "be prepared!" that scout motto never had a better chance of being lived up to than just at that critical moment, when the oil from the broken lamp began to take fire in various places. paul jumped like a flash toward the pile of blankets, and snatched up several in his hands. nor was jack an instant behind him, only he happened to seize upon a tent in the excitement of the moment, when there was certainly no time to change. regardless of any injury to the articles they were wielding, both lads swung at the flames, and beat them furiously. such prompt action was sure to meet with its reward, for it would have to be a pretty hot little conflagration that could stand against such energetic work. but scissors was calling out, and beating frantically at his garments, which seemed to be afire in half a dozen places. it was then that william, who had just a brief time before been pursuing the imperiled lad with seeming vindictiveness, proved that there was little of venom in his heart. he had dropped his club at the very instant of the accident, and seeing what paul and jack were doing, had hurried over also to possess himself of a blanket. instead of whipping this at the creeping flames which the others promised to take good care of, william turned his attention to the excited scissors, who was losing in his fight against the hungry fire that had seized upon his oil-soaked garments. and right then and there did the lessons taught to these scouts come home to william. not for nothing had he learned what to do in case of a sudden emergency, whether by water or fire. over the head of scissors he threw that blanket, and then seized the other in a bear-like hug. "keep still!" william was calling, as he hung on grimly; "quit your kicking, you silly! it's all right, and no great damage done!" but as scissors, being blinded by the blanket, could not see that paul and his chum had beaten the fire out, and in imagination he felt it still eating into his tender skin, he continued to struggle and try to shout, although his voice sounded very faint in the compress. paul found another lamp as soon as darkness had fallen on the gymnasium, and with trembling hands managed to light it. then the four friends looked at each other, and tried to smile; but it was a poor job. their faces were as white as parchment, and yet each one at that moment was probably uttering sincere thanks deep down in his heart that the accident had been no worse. william had removed the blanket from around scissors by this time, and the prisoner was sitting down on the floor, examining several sore spots on his hands and legs, where the fire had touched the cuticle. "say, did you ever see such a hot time?" gasped bobolink, presently, as he recovered his lost breath in part; for he had been kicking at the fire just as vigorously as the others slapped at it with the blanket or tent. paul shook his head. he could hardly realize what a fearfully narrow escape the fine old church had had. a very little delay in attacking the flames would have allowed them to get such headway that no effort on their part could have won out. and perhaps that would have dealt a crushing blow to the boy scouts in stanhope. "is it going to look bad?" asked william, possibly with something of this idea surging through his head just then. "that's what i'm anxious about. who'd ever dream that that lamp could be knocked down and broken. good it wasn't gasoline, or nothing could have saved the building," and paul got down on his hands and knees, the better to see. "well, what d'ye make of it?" asked jack, as the scout leader once more arose. "when we clean up around here there won't be much to show for it, except a singed blanket or two, and some marks on that tent. boys, we ought to be mighty thankful it came out so well," replied paul, soberly. in imagination he saw the old church, which was beloved by so many good people of stanhope, a heap of ashes; and the mere thought sent a shiver through him. william pointed to scissors, who was groaning as he sat there on the floor. all feeling of animosity was now driven from even the hearts of william and bobolink. indeed, it must have been sympathy that caused the former to bend down over the grunting lad. "guess you're not burnt badly, scissors," william said softly; "smarts some, of course, but rub the black off, an' it looks only a little red. here, paul, ain't we got something in our medicine chest good for burns? seems to me you carried that, and used it more'n once when a fellow got too near the camp-fire." "why, to be sure we have, and i'll get it right away," declared paul, as he started a search for the article in question. such was the confusion following the upsetting of the heap of material that it proved a serious task finding the medicine chest, which, up to now had contained all their simple remedies. paul had arranged additions, with which he expected to complete the stock in preparation for their big tour. seeing what was in progress both jack and bobolink lent their assistance; and the dismal groans of scissors kept urging them on to greater exertions. "here it is!" called jack, presently, as he overturned some of the blankets once more, and fished out the little case. "hurrah! you're all to the good, jack!" declared bobolink, with his customary vigor of speech. paul quickly opened the case, and produced a little box containing a cooling salve his father had given him. it acted in a magical manner with ordinary burns, and the boys had particularly requested that he be sure and bring another supply for use on the tour; since burns were apt to be the portion of those who had much to do with preparing the food cooked over a camp-fire. paul set to work rubbing some of the salve upon every spot scissors indicated as needing attention. he found a wonderfully large collection, for just then it probably seemed good policy for scissors to act as though seriously injured, lest the others take it into their heads to kick him out of the place. "i guess that ought to do, scissors," said paul, when he had almost used up the entire contents of the box on the other's arms and legs. "feels some better, don't it?" asked jack, anxiously, for once upon a time he and the caged tiger had been next-door neighbors, and were accustomed to going together. "y--es, some; but i reckon i'll be pretty sore to-morrow, boys. aint you going to turn me loose now?" asked scissors, looking up out of the corner of his eye at paul. then as though he feared he saw something hostile in the manner of the other, he commenced grunting dismally again, and writhing as if in pain. "why, of course you can go, scissors," observed paul, "i'm sure you've got your medicine more than bud did his. if you can walk, come right along to the door. i was opening it when you banged into those oars, and upset the lamp. here you are; good-night, scissors!" the boy limped grievously as he headed for the door. he kept one eye on william, and paul really believed that if the carberry twin had made a movement as though about to pick up that padded instrument of torture again the apparently lame tiger would have developed a surprising burst of speed, and fairly shot out of that exit. so they saw him go stumbling up the few steps that led to the level. then paul once more shut and secured the door. the four chums looked at each other, but no one laughed. though there had been plenty of humor about the affair, on their side, still that closing scene in the little drama had sent a thrill of horror through them. they realized that, after all, they had been close to a catastrophe. "first of all let's get this room straightened up, boys," said paul, as he started folding some of the disarranged blankets. four pairs of hands make light work, and after a little there was a new heap of the camp material, on another section of the floor. after that they endeavored to remove all traces of the brief fire, and in this they were fortunate, for having completed their labors it would be difficult to detect any signs of that sudden though terrifying flash in the pan. "now for the ashpit, fellows," sang out william, finally. "me to swing the broom, after some water has been sprinkled. we're going to get there yet, all right; but oh! my, what a time it's been! will i ever forget it?" "this is what i'd call heaping coals of fire on the heads of your enemies!" ventured bobolink; as he, too, hunted for a broom in the furnace room, and prepared to assist in the work of cleaning up the mess. paul sprinkled first, while jack started to place those cans which had not been upset, in a row. for a short time there was an industrious quartette engaged in the labor of reconstruction. when paul finally gave the signal to knock off work the furnace room really looked much better than old peter was in the habit of keeping it. after that the boys sought the faucet where running water could be had; soap and towels were forthcoming from the stores, and they cleaned themselves up. then preparations were made, looking to an all-night vigil, during which by turns one of their number was expected to stand guard at two hour stretches; though none of them had the least fear that the enemy, routed so thoroughly, would return. chapter x off on the long tour "get up, you lazybones!" it seemed to paul that he had just managed to drop into his first real sleep of the night when he heard william say this. the unusual experience of hearing the loud strokes of the big clock up in the steeple above, had done much to keep him wakeful, even when it was not his time to be on guard. he immediately sat up, to find the other fellows yawning, and stretching, as if they, too, had been dragged back from dreamland by william's turning-out call. "oh! rats, it sure can't be five o'clock yet!" grumbled bobolink, showing signs of rolling over again, and taking another spell of sleep. "ain't it?" remarked the sentry, indignantly; "well, you just take a look up at that window, and you'll see the sun, all right. besides, the clock tried to get in the reveille, though i tell you it was mighty hard work, with the lot of you snoring to beat the band. tell 'em to crawl out, paul. we've got heaps to do this morning, all right." "say, is this the day we start on that long hike?" demanded bobolink, with a dismal groan; "oh! my, but i feel punk. who's been kicking me when i was asleep? i'm sore all over, and i guess you'll have to leave me behind, paul, or else fix up that stock wagon into a sort of ambulance." "oh! slush!" exclaimed william, indignantly, "wouldn't that be a nice cinch for you, now, to be reclining at your ease among the tents and blankets, while the rest of us tramped and sweated along the trail? i see you doing it, in my mind's eye." "jump up and stretch, bobolink. you've only got a few kinks in your muscles," remarked jack, who was already working his arms like flails. "i suppose i'll just have to, even if it kills me. oh! what a shooting pain in that left leg. what ails me, anyhow?" grumbled the afflicted one. "i know," quoth william, readily enough. "you put too much steam into those kicks last night. didn't i hear ted give a yelp every time you got near him; and there were others. everything in moderation, my boy. you're just paying the price now on your speed. tone down like i do, and you won't have such aches the next day." by degrees bobolink managed to get rid of his sore feeling, which may have come, after all, from an unaccustomed bed on the floor. despite the blankets which he had tucked under him, at some time during the night he possibly rolled out of his snug nest, and the hard boards left an impression. in a short time the gymnasium was made to look orderly. paul did not wish those kind friends who had been so good to the scouts to find any reason for regretting their courtesy and benevolence. then, after all were out, he locked the door, before making for his own home, in order to finish his preparations, and secure a good breakfast. already stanhope was all astir. boys who usually slept until the call for breakfast disturbed their happy dreams, were up and doing. indeed, many of them had, if the truth were known, stolen out of bed at various times before dawn, anxious not to oversleep. for this was to be one of the greatest days the younger generation of stanhope had ever known. the long roll of bluff shipley's drum could be heard at intervals, and how their pulses thrilled at the sound, knowing that it was meant for them alone! not since away back in ' , when little stanhope, then a village, mustered a company to send to the front to serve their country, had such intense excitement abounded. who could sleep when in some score of homes the hope of the household was rushing up and down stairs, gathering his possessions, buckling on his knapsack half a dozen times, and showing all the symptoms of a soldier going to the wars? every girl in town was on the street, many of them to wave farewell to brother or friend. and besides, there were the envious ones connected with the "outcast troop," as ted and ward called their fragment, because they had been unable to obtain a charter from the national council, being backward in many of the requirements insisted on. these fellows had been delayed in making their start, and were planning to slip out of town some time later in the day. they possibly wanted to make sure that the scouts were actually headed in the direction of rattlesnake mountain; for not a few among them secretly doubted whether paul and his comrades would have the nerve to venture into that wild country. and now, by ones and twos, the young khaki-garbed warriors began to gather in the vicinity of the church. each carried a full knapsack, and all were supplied with a stout, mountain staff, which would assist their movements later in the day, after the muscles of their legs began to grow weary. paul was amused at the stuffy appearance of those same knapsacks. evidently some of the boys' fond mothers or older sisters entertained a healthy fear that their darling might fare badly at meal time; and they had been cooking doughnuts, as well as various other delicacies beloved of youth, to be crammed into the confined space of the shoulder haversack. but that was to be looked for, since this was their first real hike. after one experience every fellow might be expected to know better, and scoff at the idea of a true scout going hungry as long as camp stores abounded, and a fire could be kindled. with each passing minute the tumult grew apace. fathers and mothers gathered to witness the triumphal passing of the troop, in which their own boy must of course appear to be the one particular star. by eight o'clock several hundred people had congregated near the old church. for one morning, business in stanhope was forgotten or stood still, for neither clerks nor proprietors seemed to evince any desire to show up. those boys who did not belong to the troop pretended to scoff at the idea of undertaking such a wearisome march; but this was pretty much make-believe. deep down in their hearts they were bitterly envious of the good fortune that had befallen their comrades; for few boys there are but who yearn to get out _somewhere_, once in a while, and meet with some sort of adventure. bluff was kept busy displaying his skill as a drummer. he always had a group of admirers of both sexes around him. and bluff showed his wisdom by saying never a word. silence with him was golden, because, as he himself was wont to say, he "never opened his mouth, but what he put his foot in it." and there was bobolink gripping that shiny bugle nervously, and keeping one eye on the scout leader the while. when paul gave the signal he would be primed for his part in the proceedings. finally, as far as a careful count went, it seemed as though all who meant to start out on the long tour had arrived. paul made a gesture to the official bugler, and immediately bobolink raised his instrument to his lips. the roll of the drum had become familiar music to those listening hundreds; but when the clear notes of the bugle floated through the morning air there was an instantaneous raising of hats, and hardly had the assembly call died away than a stupendous cheer seemed to make the very church tremble. "fall in! fall in, fellows!" every boy knew his place. at the head of the double line stood the flag bearer, wallace carberry carrying the glorious stars and stripes, while further back, tom betts waved the beautiful prize banner which stanhope troop had fairly won in the preceding autumn, when competing with the other troops of the county. then came bluff with his busy drum, and bobolink holding his bugle ready to give the signal for the start. after that the scouts came, two and two, each in his appointed place, and the leaders of the second and third patrols heading their commands. paul was of course compelled to act in the place of mr. gordon, so that temporarily jack served in paul's stead with the red fox patrol. amid great cheering and waving of hats and handkerchiefs, the troop finally put their best foot forward as one man, and headed away up the road that would, after many miles of weary marching, take them to their distant goal. at the rear came the wagon, upon which were piled the tents, blankets, and provisions for the two weeks' stay in camp. when the worried parents of the boys saw the large amount of eatables they began to lose their fears about hunger attacking the little troop. but then, a score of healthy lads can make way with an astonishing amount of food in that time; yet paul had also counted on securing a supply from some neighboring farmers to help out the regular rations. to the inspiring music of drum and bugle they marched away from stanhope. a bend in the road hid their homes from view, and only the steeple of the church could be seen. perhaps more than one boy felt a queer sensation in his throat as he realized now what it meant to leave home, tramp out into the wilderness. but if this were so they made no sign. the wistful look several cast behind changed into one of manly determination, as they kept pace with their comrades, and faced the future with new hopes. paul soon moderated the pace. he was wise enough to know that at this rate some of the boys would early complain of being tired or footsore, since they were hardly yet in condition to "do stunts" in the way of travel. two miles out of town they came to a cold spring up among the rocks at which many wishful eyes were turned, so the acting scoutmaster gave the order to halt, and break ranks. "we'll stop here for half an hour, and get refreshed," he said, as they clustered around him; "because, now that we've left our base of supplies and cut loose from all our homes we must go carefully. the chain is only as strong as the weakest link, you know, fellows. and several of our number are not used to long tramps." after drinking their fill of the cool and refreshing water the scouts lounged around, each taking a favorite attitude while indulging in animated discussions concerning what might await them far to the north. it was while the troop was taking things in this easy manner that jud elderkin suddenly jumped to his feet. "look what's coming, fellows!" he exclaimed, and everybody of course sprang up. chapter xi the coming of the circus caravan "hey!" cried bobolink, as he rubbed his eyes, "wake me up, somebody, won't you? i've got the nightmare, sure; i'm seein' things i hadn't ought to." "gee whiz! it's sure an elephant, fellows!" ejaculated joe clausin. "and what's that coming along behind the same? get on to his curves, would you, boys? we're the gay defenders of lucknow, for as sure as you live the camels are coming, heigho, heigho!" sang william, striking an attitude. "it's the circus that was billed to show in stanhope this very day," declared jack, with sudden conviction. "that's what it is!" echoed jud, with a grin; "heard they gave a turn over at warren last night. say, i bet they've been on the tramp the rest of the night, and the way that old elephant moves along proves it." "they do look tired for a fact," admitted paul; "i wonder if our horse will get gay when the animals pass so close. most horses are just crazy with fear when they smell a tiger or a lion near by." "huh! i'd just like to see some spirit in old dobbin," laughed philip towns. "he's a plugger at best, and i expect we'll have to help him up many a hill with that big load. there come the people of the show, and three cages of beasts. my! but don't they all look like they'd been drawn through a knot-hole, though?" the night march had indeed fagged both beasts and human performers. horses walked with downcast heads, and some of the men limped painfully. altogether it was not a sight to arouse much enthusiasm in the heart of a boy, accustomed to seeing the outside glitter of a circus, with prancing steeds, gay colors, music, and the humorous antics of the clown. paul pushed to the front just then. "i've got something to propose, fellows," he said; and the announcement was as usual sufficient to rivet the attention of all his comrades; for when paul made a suggestion they knew that as a rule it was worth listening to. "hear! hear!" said several, nudging each other secretly, as they crowded around. "i can see that there are a large number among us that so far to-day have not found a chance to do something to help another. yes, i'm in the same boat myself, for you see my badge is turned upside-down. how many are there who would like to wipe out that debt, and clean the slate for the day?" paul held up his hand as he spoke. immediately every fellow followed suit, even those who had been fortunate enough to ease their conscience so early in the day feeling perfectly willing to repeat the obligation. as i have said before, it is a rule with most scouts to do some little thing of a helpful nature every day. sometimes this takes the form of assisting a poor widow with her firewood, running an errand for a mother, helping a child across the street where horses act as a source of danger--there are a thousand ways in which a boy can prove his right to the name of a true scout, if he only keeps his eyes about him, and the desire to be useful urges him on. but of course some lads are always blind, and they never make good scouts. "now you see how high up this fine spring is, fellows," paul went on; "and then perhaps they don't even know about it, because they are strangers here. the horses can't get up here any more than old dobbin could. you carried two buckets of water down to him, and he thanked you when he drank it. see the point, fellows?" "it's great, and we'll do it!" declared several at once. "once we put out a fire; and now we can quench a big thirst!" shrilled william. "huh! if you expect to fill up that camel and elephant i see our finish. why, my stars! they never could get enough!" lamented bobolink. "but do you like the idea, fellows? every one agreeable say yes!" persisted paul. a thunderous response followed, during which bluff managed to get in a few bangs at his drum, and bobolink tooted his bugle shrilly. immediately there were signs of animation about the caravan. heads of women performers began to protrude from a couple of dingy-covered wagons, and every eye was turned up to the rocky hillside where the flags fluttered in the morning air. "come on then, let's get down to the road, boys," remarked paul, starting to lead the way. "bring on your buckets," said william, gayly, "we're the boys when it comes to running a line of pails. hey! you, mister with the big elephant, don't you want a drink of the coldest spring water on earth? we've got it up yonder, and it won't cost any of you a cent either." the man seated on the neck of the lumbering elephant brought the animal to a halt. then he gave some sort of a signal that the animal understood, for immediately he sank on his knees, and allowed the keeper to slide down from his perch, making stepping places of tusks and uplifted trunk. "fine!" cried the interested william; "a private performance for the benefit of stanhope troop of the boy scouts of america. where can i get a bucket handy, mister? i'm just dying to see that big beast scoop up the water in his trunk." by this time the camel had arrived, and presently some vehicles came to a stop close by, while men began to gather around. apparently every member of the circus company must be exceedingly thirsty, for as soon as it was known that a spring lay among the rough rocks where the flags floated, a number started climbing up, bearing all sorts of drinking cups. "how about your animals, sir?" asked paul. "you see we're looking for a chance to do a good turn to somebody or other, and if you supplied us with buckets we'd be glad to water your stock for you." the big bearded man who seemed to be the proprietor of the traveling show looked at the speaker as though he could hardly believe his ears. no doubt his experience with boys had been along quite a different line. he evidently fancied that they were only made to prove a thorn in the flesh of every circus owner, stealing under the canvas of the big round-top, annoying the animals, and throwing decayed vegetables at the clown when he was trying his best to amuse the audience. "buckets?" he exclaimed, presently, "oh! yes, we've got lots handy; and the animals are certain peeved with thirst. boys, i'm going to snap that offer up, because you see, my canvasmen are pretty nigh done up, having so little sleep. here you are; just take your pick, and thank you!" every boy made haste to comply, so long as the supply of buckets held out; and those who failed to secure one hung on the tracks of another more lucky, waiting to claim it for the second filling. the scene became an animated one indeed, with those khaki-clad lads climbing up the hill, empty buckets in hand; and carefully lowering themselves again when the wooden receptacles had been filled with the clear and cold liquid. of course the official photographer had to snap off several views of the busy scene, and every scout who had carried his camera along followed suit. it was a "dandy" picture, as william declared, and would hardly be equalled during the entire course of their tour. "say, just fancy that old elephant and that camel taken in connection with us scouts!" gurgled bobolink, as he turned his camera loose, and once more looked for a chance to seize some fellow's bucket. "not to mention the cages of _ferocious_ wild beasts yonder, and the ladies of the circus taking cups of water right from our hands as though they were really tamed. it's going to be the biggest card we ever met up with," and william thumped himself proudly on the chest as he spoke. but paul was thinking of other things. that picture would be mute evidence of the new spirit that had taken lodgment in the breasts of those stanhope lads, connected with the scout movement. there they would appear, as busy as beavers, doing a real good turn in quenching the thirst of all those poor animals that had been traveling over the dusty road since the show closed in the other town. it would need no explanation, for paul believed any one could read between the lines, and understand. their half hour was lengthened to a full one, owing to this unexpected delay. when the caravan finally meandered along the road, and the members of the circus gave a cheer for the boys on the hillside, paul believed that the additional time had been well spent. and not one single badge now remained upside-down, since every fellow felt that he had won the right to wear it in its proper position. "give them three cheers!" he called, as the caravan drew near the bend in the road that would shut it from view. there was a lusty response from more than a score of healthy lungs, while both drum and bugle added to the racket. presently, the dust hanging like a cloud at the turn was the only sign left of the passing of the circus. but the memory of the humane deed they had done would remain with the boys a long time. once again they were on the move. dobbin had managed to survive the near presence of those unfamiliar animals, and seemed to put more vigor than formerly into his work. perhaps he was anxious to place as much distance as possible between his own person and the terrifying beasts of the jungle. when noon arrived the young scouts found themselves about five miles away from town. this was really further than a number of the lads had ever been in this direction. still, there had been no rush, and paul knew that his command must be in pretty good shape thus far. most of them appeared to be merry enough, and joked as they walked. william especially seemed light hearted; and since nothing like order was maintained during the steady tramp, he enlivened the way with his songs and squibs. it was different with paul. pretty much all the responsibility weighed upon his young shoulders, since mr. gordon trusted to him to carry the troop to the place selected for the camp, wherever that might be. he had scores of things to think of, and must always be on the alert to keep his finger on the pulse of the entire score of lads. when they made their noon halt they had reached another spring known to paul, though some little distance away from the road. breaking ranks, they followed the directions of their leader and made for the water, each boy eager to get at the contents of his knapsack, wherein loving hands had so carefully stowed such dainties as the son of the house was known to favor. "don't we have a fire, and some cooked grub, paul?" demanded william, eagerly, as he hovered about the wagon, ready to pounce upon the kettles and pans that had been brought along to serve as cooking receptacles. "not here," replied the leader, smiling at the look of disappointment visible on william's face, which he could twist about in the most comical way ever seen outside of a clown's work in the circus. "to-night we'll make our first regular camp, you know, and that will be time enough to break in." "oh! i'm wise now to the idea. you want the boys to get rid of a lot of the sweet stuff they've loaded in their grips. and i reckon you're just about right. the sooner they get down to plain grub, the better. cakes and such are good enough at home, but give me the bacon, the flapjacks, the hominy, the fried fish and camp fare when i'm in the woods." william talked big, but paul happened to know that pretty much all his information with regard to what should be done during an outing of this sort had been gleaned from books, though he could cook quite well. his brother wallace was just the opposite, and knew from actual experience what a camper should, and should not, do. a rest of an hour was taken, during which time the scouts lightened their bulging knapsacks considerably. indeed, paul had high hopes that by the time another day had passed the supply of crullers and similar dainties would have vanished completely. during the afternoon they did not try to hurry. there were several reasons for this. already a number of the boys began to complain of sore feet, and were noticed limping, although paul had tried to make sure that each fellow started out with the right kind of shoes for tramping. it kept him busy giving advice, and showing the wounded fellows just how to alleviate their suffering. andy flinn finally took his shoes off, and trudged along in his bare feet. but then, andy had known many a time in his past when he did not own a pair of shoes, and his soles were calloused to the point where small stones made no impression. it was about four o'clock, and there had begun to arise a complaint of weariness along the whole line, when paul edged up to william. he had been over this part of the road on his wheel lately, just to get an idea as to the lay of the land. hence he knew that the ideal place for the first camp was close by, and presently the cheery sound of the bugle electrified the entire detachment. chapter xii a camp by the roadside "let me have a tent, will you, somebody?" cried jud elderkin. "me for the cooking outfit!" sang out bobolink, though his knowledge of affairs connected with the preparing of food was extremely limited, owing to lack of experience. but then bobolink, as well as all the rest of the troop, would be considerably wiser before they slept again under a roof. many hands made light work, and the contents of the supply wagon were soon distributed to the several patrols. there were two tents for each, four fellows sleeping under each canvas shelter. paul was busy from the minute the procession turned into the woods bordering the road. he had to see that the right situations were selected for putting up the tents, in case a sudden downpour of rain came upon them. a mistake in this particular might result in having a pond around the sleepers, and add a soaking to their blankets and clothes. but paul had figured on this during the previous visit made here. he had even marked off the position he wished every tent to occupy, and this made it easier. many of the scouts were really proficient in erecting the canvas shelters, and in a very brief time the scene began to present quite a martial appearance, such as half a dozen tents in a bunch must always make. each had a waterproof fly over the whole, which was calculated to shed rain _if let alone_. besides there were a couple of other open covers put up, which would be useful in case of rain, one for storing things, the other as a mess tent, where meals could be partaken of in comfort, despite the weather. after that three fires were started, one for each patrol. these were not of the big, roaring kind that usually serve campers as their means of cooking. later on they expected to have one such, around which to gather, and tell yarns, and sing their school songs; but the cooking fires must be built along entirely different lines. a hole was dug in the ground, with a frontage toward the wind. when this was pronounced deep enough a fire was carefully kindled in it, and fed with small stuff until it could take stronger food. so by degrees the depression became filled with red cinders, sending off a tremendous heat, yet not showing more than fifty feet away. an enemy might pass it by twice that distance, without discovering it was there. besides, one could cook over such a fire with comfort, and not scorching both face and hands in the effort. paul had learned the trick from an indian with whom he once camped; and ever since that time he had never made a big, roaring blaze when he wanted to cook. that was only one of dozens of useful things those stanhope boys would pick up while on this wonderful hike into the wilderness. wallace carberry had a lot of information packed away in that big head of his, and there would be plenty of occasions when he could help paul out in accomplishing things in the proper way. so eager were the boys to taste their first meal under canvas that they could hardly be held in check. "why," said paul, laughing when some of them pleaded with him, and declared they were bordering on a state of actual starvation; "if we ate now, a lot of you would be hungry again before we turned in. i figure on three square meals a day; but four would upset all my calculations. half an hour more, boys. suppose you get a few pictures of this first camp? they'll be worth while." in this fashion did he manage to keep them from dissatisfaction. at last he gave the word that allowed the various cooks to set to work. there was no lack of helpers, for every fellow hung around, watching the peeling of the potatoes with hungry eyes; but when a delicious aroma began to arise from the first frying pan set over the hot fire, some of them backed away, unable to stand it longer. william, as the champion flapjack tosser of the entire troop, was of course in big demand at the fire of his patrol. he had brought along a white cook's cap which he insisted on donning as he hovered over his outdoor range, and gave his orders to willing subordinates. that meal was one never to be forgotten by any of the boys. to a number it proved the very first they had ever eaten under similar conditions; and with ravenous appetites, whetted by the long tramp, and the cool air that came with evening, it seemed as though they could devour the entire mess alone. but their eyes proved larger than their capacities, for there was plenty for all, and no one complained of not being satisfied when the meal ended. each patrol had a regularly-organized system whereby the work might be divided up, and every fellow get his share. hence there could be no favors shown, and no chance for disputes. one of the leading rules was that duty came before play. consequently the tin platters, cups, knives, forks and spoons, as well as what utensils had been used in preparing the dinner, were cleaned and laid away before paul allowed the big fire to be started. each patrol cook was allowed to have what he thought would best please those for whom he labored. paul exercised only a general supervision over the whole matter, in order to make sure that there was no unnecessary waste. consequently there would always be more or less rivalry between the three patrols, and much good natured "joshing" with regard to what they had to eat. once that bonfire was started, the scene assumed a different aspect. the glow lighted up the encampment, and filled the banner boy scouts with a feeling of pardonable pride, because each one felt that he had a personal ownership in the camp under the wide spreading oak. after a time they grew merry. william joked, another told a story that sent them into fits of laughter, and then songs were sung. "how different they sound out here in the woods!" declared wallace, as the last notes of a favorite air died away. he was possibly the most satisfied member of the troop, for his love of the open air life had always been profound. "say, fellows, how about settling down to the prosy life after this gay old jaunt; tell me about that?" demanded william. there was a storm of disapproval. "don't make us feel bad, old fellow!" pleaded one. "me for the gay life of a gypsy!" declared another. "why, i'll have to run away, and join that circus, i just guess!" laughed a third. but paul only smiled. he knew a change would come over the spirit of their dreams presently. they were now tasting the joys of outdoor life. everything was delightful around them. the air was fine, the sky filled with stars, plenty of good food near at hand, and the first night on the road yet to be endured. wait until the rain came down in buckets, drenching them to the skin; see what sort of enthusiasm would show up when perhaps their supply of food gave out, and they were hard put to get enough to appease their savage appetites; given a week away from the loved ones at home, and how many of these bold spirits would still be able to declare with all their hearts that the life in the open was the real thing? "of course we put a guard out to-night, paul?" asked jack, as he crept close up to where his chum sat on a blanket, watching the fun going on around the fire. "that is a sure thing. we must never forget that, while a peace organization, we wear uniforms, and are acting under military rules. besides, perhaps it wouldn't be just right for me to say this to the rest, but i can whisper it to you, jack--somehow i seem to have a dim suspicion that we may entertain visitors before morning." jack started and looked at his chum anxiously. "now you sure can't think any of those circus canvasmen would take the trouble to follow us?" he muttered, shaking his head in bewilderment; "because they know mighty well we haven't got a thing they'd want, outside of our grub. oh! that makes me think of something. i begin to smell a rat now, paul. you mean ted and his crowd." paul nodded in response, and smiled mysteriously. "any reason for thinking that?" jack went on, "or are you just saying it on general principles, like?" "i'll tell you," replied paul, readily enough; "but please say nothing to the boys. it may be i'm too suspicious, you see, and i wouldn't like to be called a false alarm. but just think how particular that bunch was to stay back until we had left town. they claimed they weren't ready; but i chance to know that was all a fake." "you mean so they might follow, and give us all the trouble they could?" asked jack, indignantly. "just so," paul went on, in a low voice. "another thing; they expected to make use of their wheels in coming up here. ted laughed at the idea of having a tent. true woodsmen, he claimed, never had any need of such a thing, being able to make a good shelter that would shed rain out of leaves and branches." "but they said they didn't expect to leave until afternoon. that would give us a long lead, paul," jack ventured. "shucks! what would nine miles be to fellows on wheels? they could just eat up that distance, and not half try," answered his chum. "but somebody said they meant to take the other road that winds around so, and joins this one ten miles further on. do you believe that, paul?" "i just think that was said to pull the wool over our eyes. those chaps have started out with the one idea of bothering us all they can," answered the scout leader. "now look here; what's the use of beating about the bush like that, paul? you've got some reason for being so dead sure. you've seen something, haven't you?" and jack pressed still closer to the other as he waited for a reply. "well, yes, i have," came the low response. "please tell me what you saw then!" asked jack, almost holding his breath in suspense. "just before dark a boy on a wheel came around the bend, and then, seeing our tents, dropped off to hide in the brush along the side of the road," replied paul. chapter xiii when the moon went down "did you know who it was, paul?" asked jack, after making sure none of the others were noticing that he and the leader of the troop had engaged in such a serious conversation. "it was getting dusk, and i couldn't see very well on account of the trees, you know; but something about the way he ducked made me think it was ward kenwood." "well," chuckled jack, "you've seen him duck often enough to know the signs. suppose it was ward, then the rest of the bunch must have been only a little way behind. he's got a motorcycle, you know, and would be apt to pace them. but what became of him then?" "i don't know," replied the patrol leader, rising. "perhaps he left his machine in the bushes, and crept away to warn the rest before they exposed themselves. i'm going to find out if my eyes deceive me. want to go with me, jack?" "count me in. shall i get a lantern; and do you want any more along?" asked his chum, preparing to get up from the ground. "two ought to be enough. yes, bring a glim along; we may need it, for that moon isn't very bright to-night, and the trees make considerable shadow." speaking in this fashion paul left his position, and sauntered away. possibly a few of the jolly company noticed his action, but took it for granted that he was only intending to make the rounds, and see that the sentries were on post; for they had already stationed a couple of scouts to serve as guardians of the camp. paul walked over to where dobbin was munching the tender grass, being secured against straying by a long rope. a minute later jack joined him, carrying a lantern. together they walked to the road not far away, and turned back over the ground they had covered late in the afternoon. "there's the bend," whispered jack presently. "i see it," replied his comrade; "and it must have been somewhere close to this spot i saw that wheel appear, and then vanish so suddenly." "which side of the road did he dive into?" queried jack. "on our left. we'll look there first, anyhow, though if we find no signs i'll turn the other way, for i might have been mistaken. watch sharp, now, jack." the light of the lantern soon showed them what paul had expected to find. the plain print of a pneumatic rubber tire was seen, turning abruptly off the road, and running into the scrub alongside. "here, what do you make of that?" he asked, a tinge of triumph in his voice. "the mark of tires as sure as anything," replied jack, bending down the better to examine the imprint. "from the way they show up you can see it was no ordinary bicycle that made the trail, but something heavier. yes, it was ward on his motorcycle. but you didn't hear the popping of the machine, did you?" "for a good reason," returned paul, immediately. "you see the road descends for some distance, and he had just got over a long coast when he turned this bend. the engine was shut off." "but the machine isn't here now?" continued jack. "of course not," paul admitted. "but any one with half an eye can see where he rolled it along here back of the brush, returning to where he came from. if we followed it a little way, we'd be sure to find that he hurried back up the road, pushing his machine, and in time stopped the rest of the bunch as they came along." "well, that proves one thing then; they know where we are in camp," observed jack, with a serious expression on his face; for he understood ted slavin's tactics of old, and could easily guess what might follow. "it proves more than one thing to me," declared paul. "if they didn't mean to badger us in some way why should ward hurry back to tell the rest, and keep them from showing up here?" "then we'll have to get ready for an attack. do you think they would dare stone the camp, and try to smash our tents?" and jack gritted his teeth at the bare idea. "would you put it past them?" paul asked; "haven't they proved themselves ready to do any sort of mean trick in the past? all we can do is to keep constantly ready, and live up to our motto." "but suppose they do jump in on us; must we turn the other cheek, and get it on both sides?" demanded jack, with whom this was always a disputed point. "not by any means," declared his chum, positively. "boys may go a certain distance in forgiving an enemy who is sorry, and asks to be let off; but they never will stand for milk and water stuff like that, and you know it, jack. we seek no quarrel, and will go as far as the next one to avoid it; but," and paul's face took on a look of grim determination while he was speaking, "if they push us too far, why we must just sail in and lick the whole bunch. sometimes peace can only be had after fighting for it." "glad to hear you say so. shall we go back to the camp now, paul?" asked his chum. "might as well, i reckon," came the answer; "because we have no idea of following this trail back to where that crowd has camped. but i'm glad i happened to glimpse that fellow as he came around the bend. it gives us fair warning, and if we're caught napping, why we deserve to get the worst of the argument, that's all." "huh! i'm glad we brought our staves along then," observed jack. they turned to retrace their steps. paul half fancied he had seen a flitting figure among the trees not far away; but the light was so uncertain, he could not say positively that it had not been a passing shadow, cast by one of the boys near by, crossing in front of the big fire. if ted and his followers were in truth hovering around, it would not be advisable for himself and jack to wander any further away, lest they be set upon, overpowered by superior numbers, and kidnapped. that would be a sad beginning to the great tour, which was almost certain to cause it to prove a failure from the start. perhaps those shrewd plotters meant that it should be so; and were laying all their plans to that effect. unconsciously, then, paul quickened his footsteps, and cast more than one glance over his shoulder, not fancying being taken by surprise. even his companion noticed his uneasiness, and commented on it. "oh!" laughed paul, "i imagine the idea must have come to me that they'd like nothing better than to nab both of us, and carry us off. with no head, the boys would soon get sick of staying up here, and scatter for home." "well, then," declared jack, positively, "they mustn't have a chance to get you, if we can help it. but here we are close to the camp. do you mean to tell them now?" "it might be just as well," answered the leader, seriously; "every fellow would be put on his mettle then, knowing what was hanging over his head. and the sentries will hardly dare go to sleep on post. i know they realize the nature of such an offense; but many of these fellows are only tenderfeet when it comes to actual service; and what would you expect of boys anyway?" jud was the first to see that something was wrong. as he jumped up and hurried over to confer, others took the alarm. joking ceased, and a look of real concern might be noticed upon many a face that, but a brief time before, was wreathed in broad smiles. then paul explained. the moment he mentioned the name of ted slavin angry looks were exchanged between numbers of the scouts. they knew only too well, whenever that bully was around, there was apt to be trouble. "they're after our good grub, that's what!" suggested one, immediately. "but they don't get it, if we know it," declared another, positively. "we're for peace first, last and all the time, even if we have to fight for it," observed william, showing his white teeth with one of his famous grins. "that's the ticket. we seek no quarrel with anybody; but we're like paul jones' flag of the revolution, with a rattlesnake coiled, and the motto, 'don't tread on me!' isn't that it, fellows?" exclaimed wallace carberry. "leave it to paul here; he knows what to do," ventured jack. "sure," called out bobolink, lustily; "whatever paul says goes with us. think up a good one, please, paul, and teach those pirates a lesson they'll remember. they've been wanting a good licking this long time back." "after what we did to them only last night?" demanded jack. "if your left leg was sore this morning, what d'ye think the other fellow's felt like?" "thirty cents, i reckon," replied william, promptly. paul soon had his plan of campaign practically arranged. as it was plainly the intention of the marauders to steal a portion or all of their supplies, these were taken from the wagon and stored in the duplicate mess tent. as this happened to be in the middle of the camp the chances of any hostile force being able to reach it without attracting attention from those on guard seemed too remote to cause anxiety. other arrangements were made. fires were laid ready for instant kindling, so that in case of a midnight alarm the woods might be quickly illuminated, and the enemy readily discovered. paul went about certain preparations on his own account, nor did he take any one into his confidence, not even his chum. "when does the moon set to-night, wallace?" he asked, knowing that the sober carberry twin always kept informed concerning such matters. "eleven twenty-seven," came the immediate reply, just as if wallace might be reading it from an almanac; and so he was, only it was figured out in his wise old brain, and not printed upon book paper. "then if there's going to be any sort of row, believe me it will hold off until after that time," remarked the patrol leader, positively. "yes, ted is always copying after the indians in those cheap library stories he buys for his nickels," wallace made reply. "those five-cent redmen never used to attack a camp until the moon had gone down. generally it was just before peep of day, because men, and boys too, seem to sleep sounder then." "all right. you and i will be on deck to receive them. i've fixed it so our turn comes after eleven, for i knew the new moon would be gone by then. that gives us a chance to snatch some sleep beforehand," remarked paul. once more, just before taps was sounded, he made the rounds of the encampment in order to reassure himself that all was well. at that time nothing suspicious caught his eye. if any of their foes were hovering near by they knew well how to conceal themselves so as not to be discovered. dobbin was still munching the sweet grass as far around him as his rope would permit. like most old raw-boned horses he seemed never able to get enough to eat. still, paul thought that the expedition would be reduced to more or less straits if deprived of old dobbins' services; and so he ordered that the animal be led up closer to the camp, being secured to a tree where he could be watched. with the warning call from the bugler there was an immediate dispersal of the merry group around the campfire. these boys had been drilled in the duties that devolve upon organized forces in the field. they understood that without discipline nothing could ever be accomplished; and all were ready to obey orders to the letter. there was a little good-natured scrambling when the rude beds were made up; but as soon as "taps" really sounded all activity ceased. no fellow was anxious to be the first to get bad marks registered against him in the record of the big hike. those selected for doing duty during the first part of the night paced their posts, and exchanged low calls whenever they drew near one another. they were expected to keep a vigilant watch over the entire camp, and if the least suspicious thing caught their attention, a signal had been arranged whereby paul would be notified, even though he were asleep at the time. two hours passed without the slightest alarm. then came the time to change sentries. paul and wallace were among the quartette that now came on duty; for the acting scoutmaster insisted on sharing the duties of his men. he refused to benefit by the circumstances that had conspired to thrust him into the exalted position usually filled by mr. gordon. just as wallace had predicted, the moon faded out of sight before half-past eleven came around. after that it was certainly dark, and perhaps it seemed more so on account of the contrast. believing that if any peril hung over them, now was the time for it to make itself known, paul redoubled his vigilance as he kept back in the shadows among the trees and eagerly watched in the direction of the camp. for half an hour nothing happened. he heard the customary sounds in the woods, with which he was so familiar, and which he so dearly loved. then, while he was gazing at the dying camp fire he suddenly made a discovery that gave him quite a start. some moving object caught his eye, not upon the ground as might have been expected, but up in the branches of a wide-spreading oak tree. chapter xiv the chase paul looked again, and more closely. the light from the fire was becoming fickle. once in a while the flame would start up, and give quite some little illumination. then dying down lower than ever, it allowed a condition of half darkness to prevail. of course it had been during one of these former periods that paul made his startling discovery; and he waited in considerable suspense until the flame took a notion to feed upon another little stock of tinder. could it really be a bear up there in that big oak, the branches of which reached out, and shook hands with those of other trees? paul chuckled at the idea; it was so absurd. save for an occasional traveling italian with a trained bear, no such animal had been known to exist in all this section for many years. a bobcat then? that was very nearly as impossible. still, the hasty glimpse he had secured told him that it was at least larger than a raccoon or a 'possum, animals frequently seen in the vicinity of stanhope. well, what was to hinder a _boy_ from coming into competition with other things, when an explanation of the mystery was sought? some boys can climb like monkeys; and he knew of several who would think little or nothing of making their way from one tree to another, when the great limbs interlocked. there, the flame again began to show up, and dispell the gloom. eagerly did paul make use of his eyes; nor was he disappointed this time. there _was_ a swinging object dangling from the limb on which he had fastened his gaze. even though the light proved so deceptive paul knew that he was looking at a hanging boy, caught in the act of changing his location by the sudden return of the light, and meaning to remain still in the hope of escaping discovery. were there others also in the oak? could it be that the entire slavin crowd had managed to elude their vigilance, and was now hovering over the camp, ready to carry out some dark plot? paul did not believe this possible. only an expert climber might succeed in accomplishing such a clever feat. he considered a minute, and then felt certain that he could give a guess concerning the identity of the one aloft. among the partisans of ted was a fellow named eggleston, who was usually known among his fellows as "monkey." this because of his fondness for doing all manner of wonderful tricks on a trapese or the parallel bars. he could hang by his toes from the limb of a tree, and never seemed alarmed in the slightest degree because twenty or more feet lay between his dangling figure and the earth below. of course, then, this was monkey eggleston. he had received his orders from ted, and was carrying them out with more or less delight. paul calculated that he intended to drop down into the centre of the camp, unseen, his presence unsuspected by the sentries, who would be looking the other way for signs of trouble. then what? a vicious boy let loose in a camp for half an hour, with a good sharp knife in his possession, can do a tremendous amount of destruction. why, he might begin by cutting the bags that held their sugar, so that every bit of it mixed with the soil and was lost. half a dozen other things seemed to flash through paul's mind as he crouched there and watched the dimly seen figure descending slowly from limb to limb. two courses were open to the scout leader. he could shout out, and bring every sleeper dashing from the tents; after which the tree might be surrounded, and the spy compelled to surrender. then again he could wait and watch. his curiosity was aroused to some extent. he really wondered what the game of monkey eggleston could be. and so he determined to simply creep up closer, without giving the alarm. at the proper time he would start things moving. of course, if one of the sentries happened to think that the fire should be looked after, and came forward to throw on more fuel, it might interfere with the plans of the boy in the tree. but wallace would not do this unless paul gave the signal agreed on; and the patrol leader was rather of the opinion the other two fellows might be sound asleep, being unaccustomed to such a vigil. he just caught a fleeting glimpse of something dropping lightly to the ground close beside the mess tent. this he knew must be monkey. he had accomplished the first part of his errand, and now came the question of what he meant to do next. paul pushed in closer, anxious to see what was going on, for the spy was in the midst of the supplies gathered under the canvas cover. just as though his coming might have been discovered, a dark figure made a sudden spring away from the spot. as the intruder bounded past the smouldering fire he seemed to bend over and throw something into it. instantly a bright illumination took place, dazzling in its effect. with the crash of the spy's retreating footsteps echoed the loud cries that arose from the spot where wallace was keeping guard: "fire! fire! turn out here and save your bacon, fellows!" he shouted at the top of his voice. figures came tumbling out of the tents. every scout had been aroused by that dreadful summons, which might mean the wind-up of their jolly expedition before it had been started. of all the disasters that in a camp must be viewed with anxiety, a fire ranks next to a sudden hurricane. paul had spoken about these things so much that every fellow realized the seriousness of the case, even though he might be a tenderfoot, who had up to now never slept under canvas. of course, as is usually the case, many lost their heads in the excitement. it could hardly have been otherwise, since they were new hands at the business. they ran back and forth, trembling with eagerness to do something heroic and grand, yet unable to collect their wits enough to see what ought to be accomplished first. luckily all of them were not built that way. had it been so there must have followed a dire disaster that would have put a damper on their budding hopes. paul saw wallace jumping directly for the sputtering fire that was running so strangely from point to point, and eating its way toward the shelter under which all their precious stores had been heaped up. "whatever it is, he'll get it!" was the thought that flashed through paul's brain at that instant. relieved of this fear, he could turn his full attention toward the escaping spy. monkey eggleston must not get clear, if it could possibly be avoided. he had engaged in some sort of miserable trick, calculated to harm those who were paying attention to their own private business. he must be caught and made to confess. so, with that determination urging him on, paul sprang in swift pursuit of the rapidly-disappearing form. since the moon had gone down, and darkness prevailed, it was not easy to see the figure of the runner; but if paul's eyes failed him his ears did not. the fugitive was making a tremendous amount of noise as he slammed through the woods. he collided with trees, stumbled over trailing vines, and sprawled across more than one half rotten log that chanced to lie in his path. paul did much better. perhaps he happened to possess eyes that were able to see in such semi-darkness; then again it might be his absence from the fire had much to do with his ability to discern obstacles in time to avoid contact with them. at any rate he knew one thing, which was, that slowly but surely he was overtaking the spy sent by the slavin crowd to create havoc in the camp of the scouts. paul also knew that it was perhaps a very unwise move on his part, this chasing so madly after monkey eggleston. of course the fellow had friends not so far away, and the chances were he was even now heading toward the place where monkey knew they would be waiting to hear his report. still paul would not give up. the fact that he was surely overtaking the other fellow acted as a sort of spur, urging him to continued efforts. had the chase seemed hopeless he might have abandoned it after the first spurt; but now he felt that at any moment he was apt to pounce upon the object of his pursuit, who was floundering along just ahead. suddenly the noise stopped. either monkey had been given a jolt in his last tumble that knocked the breath completely out of his body; or else he was "playing 'possum" in order to deceive his pursuer. paul groped his way forward. the trees became more scattered, and what seemed to be a small glade dawned upon his sight. he had carefully noted the spot where the last sound was heard, and as he strained his eyes now he was able to make out a crouching figure within ten feet of him. "ted?" said a quavering voice, "is that you?" evidently monkey was entertaining a little hope that after all it may have been his comrade who had chased after him so persistently. paul did not reply, but moved swiftly forward. he saw the other make a move as though about to try and resume his flight; but the young scout leader of the red fox patrol did not mean to let so fine a chance slip through his fingers. he made a quick spring that landed him on the fugitive. with all his strength paul threw him back to the ground. "got you, monkey!" he exclaimed, triumphantly; "now you'll come back with me to our camp, and explain what sort of meanness you were up to, trying to burn us out!" the boy underneath seemed to be so badly frightened that he could hardly find his tongue to say a word. he had shown spirit enough when climbing through those trees to enter the hostile camp; yet now that he was held a prisoner his natural cowardice returned. but before paul could drag him to his feet there was an unexpected interruption to the little affair. "hey, boys!" called a voice he recognized as belonging to ted slavin, "get a move on you, and surround the wise guy. we've got him in a hole, and it's twenty-three for yours, paul morrison! he aint goin' to crawl out of this pickle, if we know it. jump him, fellers!" chapter xv left in the lurch "you don't say so, ted?" sang out paul. he knew that he was facing trouble, and that in an instant as it were, the conditions had entirely changed. from being the pursuer he now found himself with the shoe on the other foot. all the same, paul was not at all daunted. he had encountered these fellows too many times in the past to fear them now. it was a question whether monkey had intentionally led him into a set trap, or his coming upon the balance of the crowd might be looked on as an accident. paul, remembering how the other had called out, under the impression that the one chasing after him might be his chief, had his own opinion. but this was no time for thinking it over. he could hear sounds as though several fellows were pushing forward, spreading out as if to try and surround him. plainly then, he had better be moving, unless he cared to let the slavin crowd get hold of him. paul sprang away. he knew about how the ground lay. catch as bright a chap as this young scout rushing wildly through the open woods without getting some idea as to the direction in which he was heading. he turned back over the course he had so lately covered. "he's gone, ted!" whooped a voice; but it was not that of monkey eggleston; for that worthy was hardly in possession of enough breath to more than whisper. "after him then, every feller! we oughter get him after such a bully chance. go it for all you're worth, d'ye hear, scissors, bud, and pete!" but as for himself, ted did not do much running. what was the use, when he had followers able and willing to obey the crook of his little finger? besides, ted knew what it meant to bang up against a tree in the dark, and knock the skin off one's nose. as long as the sound of pursuit could be plainly heard he continued to bellow out his orders, as though hoping to spur his followers on to success. paul had little fear. once again his keen sight was apt to play him a good turn; for he could avoid contact with obstacles that caught the others napping. he even laughed more than once when he heard a crash, and accompanying groans, from some point in his rear. "good boy!" paul said to himself, when the voice of scissors was heard, lamenting the fact that a young chestnut seemed to have a harder surface than his forehead boasted; "just keep on some more, and you'll be the worst banged-up bunch stanhope ever knew," and he could not keep from chuckling again as in his imagination he saw the sorry picture of the three pursuers when they returned to hand in their report, with a list of their bruises. evidently the hot pursuit must have come to an end with that last collision on the part of scissors. paul, listening, could hear voices, as though the boys were condoling with one another; but there was no longer the sound of footsteps. after that there was no need of haste, and having figured out just where he was, paul presently found the road. of course all he had to do now was to walk along this, and in another minute he caught sight of a bright light ahead. he knew the boys must have started the several fires that had been laid for an emergency. they were doubtless more or less worried about his continued absence; but did not know which way to start the search. so paul, to relieve their anxiety, sent out a call that would reach their ears and tell them that he was coming. and presently he walked up to the fire, where he was immediately surrounded by the excited scouts, all clamoring to know what he had discovered. "first tell me what monkey eggleston threw into the fire, that made such a flash," paul insisted, turning to wallace. the other held something up. it seemed to be a tin box, with a string attached. "what's all this?" asked paul, and then, as he took it in his hands, he gave a cry of astonishment, adding: "why, i declare, if it doesn't look a little like one of those bombs you read about. and this is supposed to be the fuse, isn't it? well, those fellows are getting along pretty swiftly when they try to blow up our supplies." of course the "bomb" was not such a dreadful affair. true enough, the tin box contained quite a quantity of powder, but it was a question as to whether the explosion would have done very much damage, even had it occurred. no doubt it might have scattered things somewhat, and possibly a fire would have resulted, unless prompt measures were taken to stamp the sparks underfoot. what astonished the young scout leader, however, was the strange method of introducing the fake bomb among the supplies, and leading the end of the slow match to the smouldering fire. "what won't they try next?" said jack, looking serious, as he took the contrivance once more in his hands. "goodness knows," remarked wallace; "but tell us about your adventure, paul. we heard an awful shouting in the woods over yonder, and some of the boys wanted to start out hunting for you, but the racket stopped just then. besides, jack said that he believed you were getting the best of it." "do you know why i said that?" interrupted jack; "well, you see, i knew it was those fellows doing the hollering, and they sounded as if they were mad; so i made up my mind they wouldn't yelp _that_ way if they had their hands on paul." "which was clever reasoning, jack," declared his chum, instantly. "you had your wits about you that time. i'm glad the whole camp didn't take to rushing through the woods, chasing a jack-o'-lantern. what a jolly time we'd have had rounding up the bunch again. now, sit down, and i'll tell you just what happened." it was laughable to see how the eyes of some of the scouts seemed to almost stick out of their heads when they listened to how paul first discovered the moving object up in the big oak. they turned their heads, and looked up eagerly, as though half expecting to see another monkey-like form hanging from a limb. so the story was soon told. many were the exclamations of wonder after the end had been reached. a multitude of questions poured in on paul; but he shook his head, saying: "keep those for to-morrow, fellows. what we want now is to repair our fences, and get some sleep. but you can see how important it is that every scout placed on guard keep his eyes and ears open, ready to give warning in case the enemy try their tricks on us." he did not reproach the two boys who had been on duty at the time he and wallace held forth, though strongly suspecting that they must have been asleep. but what he said caused more than one cheek to flush; and doubtless a number of lads inwardly resolved that from henceforth they would never, never allow themselves to slacken their vigilance when on post. nothing more was heard from the slavin crowd on that night. paul could easily guess why; for in imagination he saw the faces of monkey eggleston, scissors, bud and possibly several others, decorated with strips of court plaster, intended to hide the results of their tree-hugging adventures. he only hoped that the lesson would be taken to heart, and cause those trouble-makers to avoid the camps of the scouts in the future; but knowing the nature of both ted and ward, he did not have much expectation that way. bobolink had them all up at dawn with the reveille call upon his beloved bugle. this never left his side, and some of the boys jokingly declared that he cuddled it in his arms while he slept, for fear lest some prank-loving scout hide it away, just to tease him. the cooks got busy, and presently there was a delicious odor of coffee around that region, together with that of frying bacon. william was master of ceremonies when it came time to start operations looking to a supply of flapjacks. he had willing imitators in the cooks of the other two patrols; and while they may not have met with the same glorious success that attended his own efforts, the results were so pleasing to the still hungry scouts that every scrap of batter prepared was used up. even then there were lamentations because of a shortage in the supply of pancakes. there was no hurry to get off. paul was too wise a commander to spoil the pleasure of his comrades by unseemly haste, with so much time before them. about nine o'clock the command started forth, with bluff's drum beating time, and the inspiring notes of the bugle lending vigor to their eager feet. by noon some of those who had seemed most chipper at the beginning of the day's tramp were limping more or less, though still full of grit, and a determination not to lag behind. the country was getting very wild now. occasionally they began to have glimpses of the upper bushkill, when the forest opened more or less. later on the road was likely to skirt the river, they understood, when conditions would be prime for possibly a swim, or some fishing, which latter, they imagined must be good so far away from town. they were still taking it easy after eating a lunch that possibly cleaned up every scrap of the goodies prepared by fond mothers and sisters; when paul, who was sitting talking to jack, noticed a vehicle coming swiftly along the road. whoever occupied the rig seemed to be in somewhat of a hurry, for he was every now and then whipping the horse, which showed signs of fatigue, as though it had come quite some ways. as the man drove past he raised his head to look with a frown in the direction of the scout encampment. paul did not like his appearance at all. indeed, he was of the opinion that the man might even have stolen the rig somewhere; for he acted as though anxious to get away. but his bewilderment increased when he saw joe clausin suddenly jump to his feet and stare after the departing stranger, his face turning very white. "oh! it's him, it's him!" paul plainly heard him exclaim. chapter xvi at the foot of rattlesnake mountain "who?" demanded william, as he caught the low-spoken words of joe clausin. "yes, tell us about him, joe," went on another of the scouts. "i never saw the man before, and i shouldn't like to meet him on a dark night either. ugh!" but joe turned suddenly red, and shook his head, trying to pass the thing off with a laugh. "thought i knew the duck, fellers, but i reckon i must have been mistaken, 'cause you see, the man i took him for is away off at the other side of the world right now," he said. but paul's keen eyes saw that joe did not believe any such thing. "say, boys, joe's taken to seeing double," jeered william; "the coffee must have gone to his head. we'll have to remember next time, and make him a cup of grandmother tea." paul had something to think over. in connection with the strange robbery of the feed-man's place, and the queer actions of mr. clausin then and since, it was little wonder that the young scout leader connected this new event with the other. he tried to figure it out, but all seemed a blank. no doubt, if he could at some time coax joe to confess who it was he believed this stranger to be, who was in the vehicle, and who looked back so often as he whipped his tired horse, the puzzle might not appear quite so dense. but joe was apparently in no mood just then for any confession. he seemed to have set his teeth firmly together, as though determined that not one of his comrades must learn the slightest thing about his troubles. paul tried to picture the face of the man as he had caught it in that one rapid glimpse. had he ever known him? there _did_ seem to be some little familiar look about his expression; but try as he would he could not seem to place the other just then. but joe knew; joe was not in a maze of doubt; and the knowledge did not seem to have given the clausin boy any great pleasure either; which made the enigma all the more like a tangle to paul. again the banner boy scouts set forth. after the rest, and a little attention paid to their aching feet the cripples were able to keep up with the rest for an hour or so. by degrees they would perhaps become hardened to this sort of work. when a boy has never done much steady walking it comes tough for a time. he may be used to playing all day, but that means a change of action. it is the steady grind, hour after hour, that tells on his lower extremities, until they get hardened to the test. at three they came upon the river, and paul understood that it would be more or less of a companion to their march from that time on. every fellow greeted it with delight. it seemed like an old friend, because they had been accustomed to skating on its frozen surface, and bathing in its pellucid depths, year after year. "don't it look good to meet with a familiar friend, though?" cried bobolink taking off his hat, and making a most respectful bow in the direction of the gurgling water. "listen, would you?" scoffed william, always ready to get in a sly dig at his comrade; "to hear him talk you'd think we'd been away from home a solid month; when it was only yesterday we broke the apron strings, and sauntered forth, bent on adventure. what will he do when a whole long week has crawled along. oh! me, oh! my! i see his finish, poor old bobolink!" but despite his words, even william cast many a fond side look at the noisy stream that was foaming among the rocks; for was it not heading toward stanhope, where the softest of beds lay unused, and all manner of good things to eat were doubtless going to waste during the absence of twenty hungry boys? wilder still grew the country. even paul had had no idea it could be so rough within twenty miles of home. but as a rule the boys of stanhope had confined their tramps and wheeling trips to the other three sides of the town; since the roads were much better, and the country level; so that no one knew anything about this region, save through hearsay. "oh! look, there it is!" ejaculated a. cypher, who happened to be in the lead just as they came out of a woody tract, and turned a bend in the rough road. during the last hour paul had abandoned all idea of holding the scouts in any sort of regular formation, so that it had become, what william called, a "free-for-all," with khaki-clad lads stretched out along fifty yards of space, usually in small squads, and a rear guard to round up stragglers. of course these words from nuthin caused a great craning of necks. those who at the time chanced to be in the rear hastened their steps, eager to discover what it was attracted so much attention on the part of their chums. "why, it's the mountain!" said horace poole, with a trace of wonder in his voice. "sure it is, old rattlesnake, at home," declared william, promptly. "wow! don't it look awful big, fellows?" remarked the awed tom betts. "and d-d-dark as a c-c-cellar!" remarked bluff, solemnly. paul looked with considerable interest at the great pile of rock and brush that loomed up so close at hand. many a time during the past two years he had planned to make a run up here, with the idea of seeing for himself if all the strange stories he had heard about grim old rattlesnake mountain could be true. they had always been broken up, either through his intended companion backing down, or else some family flitting that took one of the boys away from stanhope during the holidays. but now the long anticipated day had come at last. he was looking up at the big mountain, only a short distance away; and while the scouts could hardly expect to climb its rocky side that day, possibly camp might be made at the base. even the cripples seemed to mend under the promise of reaching the foot of the mountain that afternoon. they walked briskly for half an hour at least, and then fell back into the same old limp, though proving game for the finish. "no signs of wheels around here, are there, paul?" asked jack, as he sought the side of his chum at the head of the straggling procession. "now that's queer, but d'ye know i was just thinking about that same thing," the scout leader remarked. "to tell you the truth i was examining the ground as i went along. perhaps you noticed me, and that's why you spoke?" "yes, that gave me an idea," admitted jack, readily enough. "i wondered whether those fellows could have gone past us last night while we were in camp, and are even now perched somewhere on the mountain, watching us crawl along down here." "well, that's just what they've done. see here, you can notice the marks of the bicycle tires in the road. little travel away up here, and along the side where it's smoothest they've gone single file, following the motorcycle of ward, i guess." "why didn't we see that before, then?" demanded jack, frowning as he eyed the tell-tale marks. "i have looked a number of times," paul went on; "but couldn't see anything. so you can understand it gave me something of a shock just now to discover the tracks." "have you reasoned it out?" asked his chum; knowing full well that paul would never allow such a problem to remain unsolved long. "there's only one explanation jack, that i can see. perhaps you remember noticing a little side road that joined with this one about a quarter of a mile back?" "of course, i remember it. then you think----" "they must have come out of that road ahead of us," paul went on. "that's the way they got in their licks. somebody knew about how it turned around, and joined on to the main stem again. what do you say, jack?" "why, of course. and now i remember hearing scissors boast that he had the only map ever made of the rattlesnake mountain country--a logger charted it one winter, hoping to get his governor interested in some timber cutting scheme he had in mind, which fell through though." "that settles it. they're on the ground first; but what do we care about that, if they only leave us alone?" paul remarked, seriously. "there's a call for you, paul, from some of the fellows in the rear," observed jack, just then. "i think they want to snap off a view of old rattlesnake, with the troop stretched out along the road here. the sun is dropping lower all the while, and if we're going to get a picture we'll all want to keep, it ought to be right now." "a good idea, and i'll do everything i can to help out," laughed the leader. the command was ordered to fall in, so as to present an orderly appearance in the picture that was to be taken from the rear. "we don't want to look like a bunch of hoboes trailing along," declared jud. "and every fellow quit limping, or you'll just spoil the whole business," pleaded the one who was delegated to use the camera, he being the best expert the troop boasted in this line, and winner in the competition of the preceding autumn. the picture taken, they once more broke ranks, and pushed forward. at five o'clock they found themselves at what seemed to be the base of the high and forbidding mountain over which the road wound. "oh! please say alabama, here we rest!" called one of the limping pilgrims. paul had been closely observing the ground, and as if in reply he made a gesture that bobolink readily understood. immediately the bugle sounded, and a cheer broke forth, since every member of the troop felt more or less jaded with the long day's walk, and ready to call it off. immediately a scene of bustle ensued. the wagon was emptied of its load, and tents confiscated by the various patrols. good-natured disputes and chaffing accompanied each tent raising; but the boys had by this time become more or less accustomed to the various duties connected with making camp, as well as breaking up, and so in what seemed a very short time all the canvas was in place. after that fireplaces were scooped out, just as on the previous afternoon; only now they called it an old story. every boy was learning things he had never known by actual experience before. reading of such woodcraft in books is very good, but it does not compare with the personal trial. once these things are actually _done_ by an observant lad, and he will never in all his life forget the lesson. long before dusk began to set in, the supper was under way; and hungry fellows walked to and fro trying to stand the intense agony of waiting for the summons. chapter xvii joe declines to tell "joe, i'd like to have you step over here a minute!" supper had been eaten amid the best of feeling. the assembled scouts forgot for the time being all their troubles. lame feet failed to ache, and tired knees had all the buoyancy of youth again. the mysterious mountain towered above them, seeming to invite a further and closer acquaintance. beside the camp ran the brawling stream, and the noise of its rushing water would either lull the tired lads to sleep, or else keep them from doing so. trees overhung the numerous tents; and on the whole the camp was a pretty sight, as many a lad declared in his log of the trip. when joe heard paul say the few words that begin this chapter he gave a sudden start, and looked up quickly. but the patrol leader and acting scoutmaster had already turned away, and was walking beyond the confines of the camp. after hesitating a moment joe scrambled to his feet, and followed his chief. he acted as though he more than half suspected just what it was paul wanted to say to him; for several times joe gritted his teeth, and shook his head in a way he had; for he was known to be very stubborn sometimes. he found paul on the bank of the bushkill. he had seated himself on a convenient rock, and was waiting. the moon drifted in through openings among the trees, and falling on the water made it look like silver; with frosting here and there, where the foam splashed up around the rocks lying in the bed of the stream. "what d'ye want, paul?" asked joe, as he came up. the noise of the moving water was such that he had to elevate his voice more than a little in order to be heard distinctly. "sit down here, joe, please," remarked paul, pleasantly. "i wanted to have a little talk with you on the side, where none of the boys could hear, that's all." "about what?" asked the other, weakly. "well, perhaps it's none of my business; but since i chanced to be one of those with you the night we found your father, and heard about his losing that little tin box with those valuable papers, i thought perhaps you might be willing to take me into your confidence, joe. i want to help you all i can. you believe that, don't you?" joe moved uneasily. he had accepted the invitation to sit down, but his manner was not at all confidential. "why, of course i do, paul," joe presently observed, slowly, "i know you're always ready to help any fellow who gets in trouble. there ain't a better friend in the whole troop than you are to everybody. but what's got you now? have i been a doin' anything i hadn't ought to?" "you know it isn't that, joe. i wanted to speak to you about that tin box your father said was taken from him that night." "oh, was that it?" remarked joe, faintly, and catching his breath. "you believe that i'd like to help get it back for him, don't you?" demanded the young patrol leader. "i remember hearing you say you'd be glad to have a hand in recoverin' it; and i guess you meant it every time, paul," came the reply. "well," paul continued, "perhaps the chance may come to me up here on rattlesnake mountain, joe. it would be queer now, wouldn't it, if, in coming up to this country we just happened to land on the chap who was in your father's store that night, and put out the lamp after he had picked up that little old tin box, eh?" joe seemed to have some difficulty in answering. he appeared to be swallowing a lump in his throat as though it threatened to choke him. "why, yes," he presently managed to mutter, "that would be funny now, for a fact. my dad'd like mighty well to get that stuff back, paul, sure he would." "perhaps then you wouldn't mind telling me who that man was, joe," remarked paul, quietly. "what man?" queried joe, though his voice betrayed the fact that he knew only too well what his friend was driving at. "i chanced to see you when that party drove past our noon camp," said paul, softly. "you recognized him, joe, i am sure you did; and you showed every sign of being both startled and alarmed." "huh! well," joe stammered, "you see it did give me a sorter start, because he looked like somebody i knew was at the other side of the world right then. i reckon you'd feel upset like, paul, if you thought you saw a ghost." "perhaps i would," replied the patrol leader, quickly; "but you immediately knew that it wasn't a ghost. still, it has been bothering you all the afternoon, joe." "say, what makes you think that?" "i've watched you when you didn't think anybody was looking," paul went on. "i've seen you shake your head and talk to yourself as if you might be trying to believe something your common sense told you couldn't be so. how about it, joe?" "oh! i'm willing to admit i've been mixed up about that thing, and bad too," confessed joe, as if brought to bay; "but i ain't goin' to say anything about it, not just yet anyhow. i must see dad first, and get his opinion." "well, i don't want to force you, joe, against your will. if you think it best to keep your little secret, do it; but perhaps later on you may be changing your mind. if we just happened to meet up with that gentleman while we knocked around old rattlesnake mountain, perhaps you'd be glad to get back that tin box again." "sure i would, paul. please don't think i'm not wantin' to trust you, because i hold back. i want to think it all over by myself to-night. perhaps in the mornin' i might tell you about it." "then i won't say anything more now, joe. only believe that i'm ready to do everything i can to help you. that man came all the way up here." "how d'ye know that?" "why, even a tenderfoot could tell that much," observed the patrol leader, calmly; "his horse left marks all the way. if you went out on the road now, and lit a match, you'd see the print of shod hoofs, and the lines made by the wheels. so you see, joe, it wouldn't be so strange if we _did_ happen to run across him some fine day." "oh! i wonder what i ought to do? what would dad say if he knew?" and muttering half to himself in this way, joe wandered back to his seat beside the big fire that was making all outdoors look bright with color and warmth. paul was more mystified than ever. who could that man be, and why should poor joe feel so badly over having set eyes on him? if he were an ordinary person, and suspicion pointed his way, one would think that the son of the feed-man would welcome his detention, which might result in the finding of the stolen property. but on the contrary joe seemed to be dreadfully alarmed over something. "oh! well," paul finally said to himself as he left the rock and turned to go back to the camp; "it may be a family secret of some sort, and i have no business to be poking into it. i'll just keep my hands off, and wait for joe to speak, if he cares to. besides, i've got plenty of other things to keep me hustling." he happened to glance up at the frowning mountain while walking away from the river bank. suddenly there flashed a little light away up yonder. once, twice it seemed to flash up, and then was gone. "now, i wonder what that could be?" said a voice close beside him. "why, hello, wallace, is that you?" laughed paul; "and i guess you must have made the same discovery i did?" "meaning that queer little light up there, eh, paul?" remarked the other, who had been walking about uneasily, and just chanced to face upward at the time the double flash came. "yes. i wonder what it was," paul went on, thoughtfully. "i happen to know that ted and his bunch are ahead of us somewhere, and that might have been a signal to fellows who were left down here to do something to upset our camp." "now, do you know, paul," wallace went on; "i hadn't thought of that. i'll tell you what it looked like to me--some man lighting his pipe. you saw the light go up and down; that was when he puffed. but it was too far away to see any face." paul, remembering the man who had gone up the side of the mountain with that rig, wondered very much whether wallace could be right, and if the unknown was even then looking down upon them from that height. this made him turn his thoughts back to the noon camp, and try to remember whether the man in the buggy had shown that he recognized joe at the time the boy so suddenly sprang to his feet with a cry. at any rate the unknown had whipped up his horse, and seemed in a great hurry to depart from the spot. that night the banner boy scouts were just as merry as before. a banjo had been brought along, and to the plunkety-plunk of its tuneful music they sang every popular song known among stanhope's rising generation. "i just don't exactly like the looks of the sky," remarked wallace, as the time for sounding taps drew near. he had found paul examining the ropes of the various tents as though curious to see how well they had been secured. "that's why i'm overhauling these tent pins and ropes," laughed the other, as he rose up. "the clouds have rolled up, and it feels as if we might have a bit of a summer storm. perhaps it would be a good thing for the boys to have an experience like that, if only our supplies can be kept dry." when they finally retired, the sky seemed to have cleared again. paul set his guards and took his place in his tent, for his turn would not come until later. he was tired and soon fell into a heavy sleep. jack was on duty, and could be depended on to keep a good watch. paul was aroused from slumber by loud cries. sitting hurriedly up he found the tent wabbling to and fro in a violent manner, while the air seemed full of the most alarming sounds. he crawled out without wasting a minute, and shouted aloud to make the balance of the boys get busy before everything was swept away by the violence of the gale. chapter xviii a close call "hold 'em! hold 'em!" whooped william, as he found himself mixed up in the canvas of the tent which had fallen in a heap; for evidently he was of the opinion that all this racket must be caused by those vindictive workers of evil, ted slavin and his crowd. "look to your tent pins, fellows!" shouted paul, lustily, as he hurried around to lend what assistance lay in his power. he had little fear about his own tent, understanding just how it had been put up. but all of the scouts were not so well versed in the little tricks known to those who spend much time under canvas; and there was a chance that others would share the sad fate that had already befallen poor william. then there was a great scurrying to and fro. as the storm broke the boys shuddered and held on to the ropes for dear life, regardless of the fact that they were clad only in pajamas, which were soon rain soaked. "never mind that little thing, fellows," sang out the care-free bobolink; "because you know we can get plenty of dry clothes after she's over; but if you let the tents blow away, where, oh! where do we come in? hold hard, everybody; here comes another bluff at us. wow! get a grip on my legs, will you? i'm agoin' to fly, that's what!" but some of his mates held on doggedly, and bobolink consented to remain on earth a while longer. as long as it lasted it was one of the greatest short storms most of the scouts could remember ever experiencing. but then, up to now, they had been pretty much in the habit of viewing such convulsions of nature from the shelter of a snug harbor in the shape of a home window; and things looked vastly different when the same summer gale was met, with tents threatening to carry away, and the trees groaning in the furious wind. "she's over!" cried jack, at last, when the storm seemed to come to a halt almost as suddenly as it had broken. no one was sorry. repairs were quickly undertaken, after the boys had donned some dry clothes; for the air was chilly after the rain, and being soaked to the skin they found themselves shivering. william had managed to crawl out from under his tent, with the help of others. he had several bumps to prove what a close call it had been. the others could not lose a chance to poke fun at him; for it was not often the opportunity came when the fun-maker of the troop could be caught napping. "next time, get a move on you, old slow poke!" one advised, when william ventured to complain that it was mean in their deserting him to his fate. "yes, mr. tortoise, you'll have to learn how to crawl better than that, if you expect to stay with this fast crowd," declared tom betts. "but every time i started to get out," william declared, ruefully, "somebody would stick his foot in my face, and climb all over me. then the blessed thing dropped flat, and left me swimming all alone. of course i thought it was some more of ted's fine sport, and i hoped you chaps were flagging 'em. after that the water came in on me. ugh!" "what did you think then, old molasses in winter?" asked bobolink; shaking the last of the water out of his precious bugle, and carefully wiping its brass mouthpiece with his handkerchief. "why," said william, grinning, "at first i thought the river had overflowed its banks, and was going to carry me all the way down to stanhope. then i heard the wind and the thunder, when it struck me there was something of a storm. so i just laid still; for i knew you fellows wouldn't want me bothering around while you worked like fun to hold the rest of the tents from going by the board." "listen to him, would you, paul?" exclaimed one of the others. "he knew all along we were hard pushed to hold out, and yet he just snuggled there, and wouldn't give a helping hand. what kind of a scout are you, anyway, william?" "well," returned the accused one, in his drawling way, "i didn't want to cut a hole in the canvas, you see; and i couldn't get out any other way. come to think of it, i don't generally carry my knife around in my pajamas, like some fellows do bugles, and such trash." "rats!" flashed back bobolink, disdainfully, "you're just jealous of my noble calling, that's all." "he's always calling, ain't he, fellows?" asked william. "i expect to see him sit up in his sleep some night, and scare us half out of our lives by tooting away to beat the band. i'm going to get up a petition that the old horn be muzzled every night before we go to our little beds on the hemlock browse." a fire was, after some little trouble, started. paul had been wise enough to keep some fine kindling in his tent for just such an emergency. even had it been otherwise he would have known just how to get at the heart of a dead tree, which would yield the necessary dry wood to make a beginning. such hunter's tricks were well known to paul, likewise to wallace; and before this tour came to an end most of the others would have picked up scores of such bits of knowledge, likely to be of use to them whenever they chanced to be in the great woods. the sky was clear again long before the last boy had concluded that it was safe to crawl into his tent once more, and try to sleep. and whoever happened to be on guard, kept the fire going throughout the remainder of that eventful night. no further adventure broke upon their heads, and in good time dawn appeared in the eastern sky. there was much merriment as the boys went for a morning dip in the waters of the bushkill. many jokes were made about the new order of things in camp that necessitated a shower-bath at midnight. "be careful, fellows," paul admonished, as he saw that most of the scouts were bent on trying the water of the rapid little stream. "there's a bad current here, and if it gets hold of you grab a rock and yell. to be dashed down there wouldn't be the nicest thing going." jack agreed to keep an eye on the clump, for paul had duties in camp just then. he expected to take a dip himself a little later on. hardly had ten minutes passed before he heard a loud series of shouts. "hold hard, tom! make a chain there, you fellows, and get him before he lets go! hurry up, can't you?" it was jack stormways shouting these words. paul knew instantly that some one must have been caught by the current, and was in danger of being dragged along down the stream to where it dashed wildly against the rocks. the young patrol leader lost not an instant. snatching up a rope that happened to lie handy, he rushed for the bank of the river. instinct caused him to head for a point below where jack was standing, trying to reach some object with a long pole he handled awkwardly. even in that thrilling moment paul could think, and was able to understand that the ever flowing current must sweep any helpless swimmer past jack's position in quick order. as he ran paul was trying to fashion a loop in the end of the rope. had he not been perfectly calm he could never have succeeded in doing this difficult feat; but when he reached the bank he had managed to accomplish it. what he saw was a tumble of water, which was almost covered with foam. somewhere in this poor tom betts must be floating, churned back and forth by the suction of the current that was striving to escape from the whirl. jack had evidently lost sight of the drowning lad completely, for he was even then running toward paul, his face as white as chalk. there! paul had just a fleeting glimpse of the boy in the foamy water. he had thrust one arm up rather feebly, as though almost gone. perhaps his head had come in contact with a rock while he was swimming, and this had dazed him; for ordinarily tom betts was a clever swimmer. paul waited for no more. he was down the bank like a flash, and wading into the water, regardless of clothes. what did it matter about his getting wet, when a precious human life was in peril. again he caught a glimpse of the boy's arm amid all that spud and foam. but the first attempt to throw the loop of his rope over it resulted in failure. paul instantly changed his tactics. reversing the coil, he cast the loop over a friendly stump that chanced to be at hand; then, gripping the rope in his hand, he boldly cast himself into the midst of that whirl of froth and spinning water. fortune was kind, for almost immediately he came in contact with the unconscious lad, and was able to throw an arm about him. the fierce stream tried in vain to drag him down into other basins below; but paul had his hand twisted in the coils of that rope, and would not let go. "hold on, paul; we'll pull you in!" shouted jack on the bank, as he clutched the lifeline and began to exert his full strength. "hurrah! paul's got him! it's all right!" whooped others, as they lent a hand. of course paul was quickly dragged into shallow water, where willing hands relieved him of his burden. tom looked dreadful, being deathly white, and very limp. but paul could not believe the boy had been under the water long enough to be drowned. immediately he had the others bring the senseless boy up to the camp, where he was placed on his chest. kneeling down, with one leg on either side, paul placed his palms on tom's back just where the small ribs could be felt. then by leaning forward, and pressing downward, he forced the air and water from the lungs of the patient; relaxing the movement allowed air to creep in a little, when the operation was repeated time and time again. sometimes it may take an hour to make this artificial respiration successful; so that it is not wise to desist until every hope is gone. many a person has been saved after it seemed next to a miracle that life might be restored. with tom it was not a difficult problem. he had been stunned by the blow received in his contact with the rock, and hence little water had entered his lungs. in five minutes he was showing signs of coming to; his arms, extended above his head while this process of pumping air into him was being conducted, twitched and moved; then he groaned, and finally made a move as if he wanted to get up. ten minutes after being taken from the water he was sitting up, and asking what all the fuss was about. tom afterwards confessed to a dim recollection of feeling something hitting him a dull blow in the head; after that he knew nothing more until he opened his eyes to see his mates clustered around, and hear them give lusty cheers. but he heard how paul had acted so wisely, and while tom was a fellow not much given to words, at the first opportunity he thanked his friend with tears in his eyes; for he was thinking of a fond mother at home, and what a blow she must have received had he been drowned. the boys cared little about indulging themselves in any more bathing in that treacherous portion of the fast-running bushkill. down around stanhope they understood its various moods; but up in this rattlesnake mountain district it was quite a different thing. breakfast appealed more to them, and they went at it with a will. tom was exempt from any menial labor on that morning. warmly dressed, and placed close to the roaring fire, he watched his chums work, and thought what a splendid thing it was he had not been alone at the time the accident happened. and paul was more than glad it turned out so well. had a tragedy come to pass, their joyous outing must have met with a sudden halt, and the return journey to stanhope would have been a sad one indeed. "what's the programme for to-day?" asked jack, as they all sat around, eating the fine breakfast the patrol cooks had served. "another hike, and this time up the mountain," returned paul. "it will be our last for a while, at least, for when we get settled in another camp i hope to stay there until our scoutmaster arrives." "and when do you look for mr. gordon, paul?" queried wallace, who seemed to have lost his appetite after seeing how near a companion had come to a terrible death. "any hour after this. he said he would use my wheel in coming up here, so as to make better time. i'll be glad when he comes," and paul gave a sigh as he glanced around at the score of boyish faces turned toward him; to let his gaze rest finally on that of genial tom betts, whom he had known pretty much all his life. nor indeed could paul be blamed for wishing to pass the responsibility on to broader shoulders, more capable of bearing it. he was only a boy, and it seemed to him that since he had been placed in charge of this expedition, with all its attendant cares and trials, his spirit had been almost crushed. but the camp was broken, and with much laughter the scouts began to climb the side of mysterious old rattlesnake mountain, of course paul managed to forget most of his troubles, and his merriment rang out as loud as that of any other. so, boosting and pulling at old dobbin, they made the ascent by slow degrees, and by noon had reached a point that afforded them a grand view of the country away off toward the south, the east and the west; but it was toward the first named region that many a wishful look was given, for did not stanhope lie yonder--and home? chapter xix indian picture writing "we'll never get that old horse any higher up than this, paul," said jud elderkin. the scouts were sitting there with that fine panorama spread out before them, and eating a sort of pick-up lunch. at breakfast time enough food had been prepared to carry them along for another meal. after that paul had promised that they would very likely be in a permanent camp, and might expect to have decent fare right along. "fact of the matter is, jud," replied the leader of the expedition, "we don't need to, fortunately." "what's that, paul; not going to camp right here, i hope?" questioned the scout leader of the second patrol. jud shot a swift look across the country down below, and paul smiled when he saw the direction of the glance. "i understand what you mean," he remarked, immediately. "you imagine that if we stayed here any length of time some of the tenderfeet would be running away." "oh! well," jud went on to say, "what would be the use of tantalizing the poor chaps? hear 'em disputing right now whether that shining thing they see far away in the distance is the brass hand on the top of the church steeple in stanhope, or the wind vane on the court house cupola? anyhow, it stands for stanhope; and if they were where they could stare out yonder by the hour some of 'em would skip before another night, i'm afraid." "and you're just right, old fellow," paul remarked. "i'm glad you noticed that sign, for we'd hate to have any desertions, now that we've made such a great start. but your other guess was away off. i haven't the slightest idea of holding over here." "then the road----" began jud. "makes a bend just beyond," paul broke in with, "and goes no further up that way. this is the last peep any of us are likely to have of far-away stanhope till we come out again on the way home." "that's all right, then. now that you mention it, i can see how the road does take a turn a little way along. what do you suppose we're apt to strike there, paul? i'm more than anxious to get wise." but the acting scoutmaster only shrugged his shoulders. "you really don't know, then?" continued jud. "only what i've heard. some say there's a fine lake back here a few miles. and that's what i'm hoping to strike, for a spot to camp," returned paul. "well, i've heard that same thing," said jud, slowly, "but never more than half believed it. just as like as not we'll find it only a duck pond. but a camp always seems more like the real thing if it's only near water." "i always thought so," paul admitted, "and i've been in a few dandy camps in my time. my people have gone up in maine every summer for a long while, you know. but this year they are going to stay home for a change. father hates to turn over his practice to any one else; and to tell the truth i said i wanted to be right here." "bully for you, paul. we all feel that we owe you a lot for the way you've stuck to us through thick and thin. we'd never have won that banner there if----" but paul would not listen. "stow that sort of talk, jud!" he exclaimed. "i've done my best, but it wasn't any more than lots of the other fellows could do. if we'd gotten hold of mr. gordon in time he'd have made a better troop than we were. he knows a heap along many lines." "yes," remarked jud, with a nod, "by theory, but i just bet you if it came down to practice you could beat him out every time. but what was it i saw you doing at our last camp, just before we pulled up stakes?" "i was leaving a letter for mr. gordon when he came along," replied paul, with a mysterious smile. "what sort of a letter now, i'd like to know? seemed to me you were marking on a piece of birch bark, which you stuck on a stick close to where our fire had been. and paul," with a grin, "i had the curiosity to take a sly look at the same as i passed by." "yes. what did you see?" asked the patrol leader, quietly. "why, it looked to me like you'd gone back some years, and started drawing funny animals, and such things," replied jud. "just what they were, old fellow," said paul, confidentially; "but when our scoutmaster takes one of these slips of bark up, he'll read what i've marked on it just as you would a letter. he and i have become deeply interested in the old method of indian picture writing, you see. signs stand for words with them. a whole story can be made in a dozen characters or groups." "oh! i remember something about that i read once," remarked jud, with a look of deep interest; "and if you don't mind i wish you'd give me a few pointers about that sign business, some time. i'd like to know, the worst kind." "oh! no trouble about that. all you have to do is to use your head a little, and make your signs plain enough so that they can be understood. now, i'm going to leave a letter for mr. gordon right here. watch how i do it," and paul picked up a good-sized bit of clear bark he had evidently prepared for the purpose. "you see," he began, "i use a lead pencil because it's more convenient, that's all. if i didn't have it, i'd just take a black brand from the fire; or even scratch the characters on the smooth bark. and first of all to tell him that twenty-one white soldier boys camped here." he rapidly drew just that number of rude figures, diminutive enough to be crowded around what was plainly a spread out luncheon. they had hats on their heads, and a flag was to be seen in the picture. a wagon and a horse occupied one corner. "now," paul went on, "you see that i've indicated these fellows spent a brief time here. he will understand that it was noon from the round sun i've drawn _directly above the cluster_. to show that they are eating i have made a coffee pot in the hand of one, though that was hardly the truth, for we've had none this time. but i guess it's always allowable to stretch things _just a little_ in these picture stories. they were white because they all wear hats. do you get it, jud?" "easy as falling off a log. why, i could read that myself, if i was lost and happened to fall into this place," replied jud, positively. "sure you could," laughed paul. "that's the object of this picture writing; to make it so clear that anybody would know. we're not trying to puzzle people now. this isn't what you'd call a cryptogram; not much. it's the primer of writing. a kid could tell what it all stood for. and these indians are just like kids, you see." "well, go on," pleaded the leader of the second patrol, "i'm dead stuck on this thing, for i can see what lots of fun we will have with it up in the woods. how are you going to tell mr. gordon that we hiked out of here, and headed due west from this point?" "oh!" answered paul, readily enough, "i might use just the letter w; but you see that wouldn't do for an indian, who doesn't know what it means. to him west means the setting sun, just as east is signified by its rising, and noon by an overhead disc. so suppose i draw a rude hand, with the finger pointing toward a sun that is half down behind a line? wouldn't that be apt to tell him we went west from here?" "why, dead sure. he couldn't mistake that. the level line i take it is meant for the horizon?" jud continued, deeply impressed by the simplicity of this method of communicating between separated friends. "yes. well, now he knows which way we've gone. we don't know ourselves just how far we expect to hike this afternoon. it may be only a mile, and it may be two. but we want to tell him that we mean to go into camp, and that the setting sun will find us with our tents up, and a fire burning." paul, while speaking, started to once more make some marks on the balance of the smooth bark, which he had himself peeled from a nearby birch. "there," he presently declared, holding the pad up, "you see how i've made the camp. the tents are set, supper cooking, and just twenty-one little marks tell that so many soldiers are around the fire, all but three who stand guard. and in beyond, the sun is going down, almost out of sight in fact. no trouble about such a simple story, eh, jud?" "it's as plain as a book, plainer than most i've ever read. no getting mixed up in such a story. but i'm wondering what that big circle close to the camp means?" and jud pointed as he spoke. "oh! i'm glad you spoke. mr. gordon himself might well wonder what that was, for i left out the most important part. now watch, and tell me if you can hit it," with which remark paul made several tiny dashes with his pencil. jud gave an exclamation of delight. "boats--real injun bark canoes, as sure as you live!" he observed. "and boats don't run on dry land as a rule, do they, jud?" paul went on. "well, not so you could notice. that circle then, must be our lake, or pond, we ain't so sure which, yet. the story is now complete, paul from start to finish. but sometimes it must be hard to tell things that happened." "that's where the fun comes in," paul continued; "lots of happenings make a fellow sit up and take notice, when he tries to picture them so plainly that the other can read it right off the reel. i had a tough nut to crack this morning." "about that little adventure of tom betts in the river," interrupted jud. "tell me how you did it. a crooked little mark would show the river; but i'm blessed if i can see how you made out the drowning act, and the rescue." "i'll tell you how i did it," paul went on; "and when mr. gordon comes we'll find out if he understood my letter, or thought it meant something else. i'm only a beginner in this business, you know, and expect to improve, for i see where we can have lots of fun out of it." "but the letter?" said jud, impatiently. "in the river i had several of the boy scouts bathing. all had their hands down but one, whose arms were up over his head. that told of his being in danger. then on the bank i showed a ring around two, one on the ground. just beyond these, two were moving off, arm in arm. that ought to tell him that the drowned boy recovered. and when the company formed to go on the road i was _very_ particular to have the exact twenty-one in line. how's that?" "great," cried jud, excitedly; "you've got me head over ears in this picture writing business, and i'm going to study it up. there's a book home that has a lot about it. me to swallow the same when we get back. and while we're up here i'm going to get you and our scoutmaster to teach me what you know." "all right," laughed paul, getting up. "now notice that i stick this where he will be sure to see it. and perhaps we'd better be on the hike once more, because we don't know what we've got ahead of us. number three, give the call to break camp!" chapter xx camp surprise on the march the scouts had more than a few times amused themselves by practicing some of the many maneuvres they had learned. for instance, a detail was left with signal flags on a prominent knoll; and later on, when the main company had arrived at a certain point half a mile further along the road, a series of communications would be exchanged between the two detachments. as a record of all such wigwagging was kept, it would be easy to learn just how proficient they had become in manipulating the various colored flags, or in making the many different arm gestures that conveyed the meaning of the intended message. among their supplies they also carried a complete telegraph equipment. after they were finally located in a definite camp it was intended to have one or more stations, and both send and receive messages from time to time. thus, in these and many more genuinely interesting as well as instructive ways, they expected to make their tour a most profitable one. some of the boys became quite sober as they saw the grand view of the plateau and valley blotted out after leaving the noon camp. they brightened up after a while, however, since there were dozens of things to draw their attention, and arouse their boyish interest. dobbin had all he could do to pull the wagon over the rough road, so full of stones, and so overgrown had it become. still, paul noticed as he went along, that those marks of the wheels, and the prints of a horse's hoofs showed, telling that the vehicle occupied by the stranger, whom joe clausin seemed to have recognized, must have kept on this way. they were now surrounded by the very wildest kind of scenery. it looked as though a tremendous convulsion of nature must have occurred at some remote age; for giant rocks were piled up in great heaps on every hand, many of them covered with creeping vines. trees grew in crevices, and wherever they could lodge. "whew! ain't this the toughest place ever, though?" remarked william, as he gaped around him at the frowning heights, and the little precipices that the road skirted. "it's just what they told us, though, even if we wouldn't believe what we heard," declared wallace, who was deeply interested in the big ferns that cropped up, and dozens of other things most boys would never have noticed. several were kept busy snapping off photographs. "better go slow with that, fellows," warned paul; "because we expect to be here ten days or so, and you'll find lots of chances to get action in your pictures, with this grand scenery for a background. and the one whose films run out will wish he'd been more careful. i'd advise that you don't take too many duplicates; because, you see, good pictures can be passed around to all, and the greater variety we have the better." after that the camera brigade, taking warning, got together, and formed a set of rules that would prevent waste. it was a point worth noting. when they had been moving in and out along this rough and winding road for some time, anxious glances began to be taken ahead. "where's that fine old lake, i wonder?" grumbled one. "perhaps there ain't anything doing," observed another lame one, as he limped heroically along in the midst of the trailing band, and tried to forget the sore feeling in his feet. "well," quoth william, with one of his famous grins, "it wouldn't be the first time we'd been stung; and i guess it won't be the last. but don't holler before you're hurt, fellows; because there's water ahead i reckon, if the signs don't lie." "how d'ye know, old wiseacre?" demanded bob tice, of the second patrol; for at the time they were marching without the least semblance of order. william struck one of his amusing attitudes, and slapped himself on the chest, as much as to say: "look at me, and take pattern, because i'm the one who knows this game from alpha to omega, the beginning and the end!" "hark! and i'll give you a pointer, fellows. a true scout must always keep his eyes wide open. no sleepy fellow can ever make a howling success of this business. i leave it to paul here, if that ain't the truth?" and william turned to the other, who was smiling as though he suspected what had happened to meet the eyes of the speaker. "that," said paul, "is one of our beliefs, sure enough. a scout must always be on the alert, or else he may miss many things that would give him valuable information. william, suppose you go on and spin your yarn in your own way. i saw what you did; but i'm glad i didn't cut in. strike up, now, and then we'll move on again, for dobbin is coming yonder." "yes," remarked the party addressed, "and if you notice the old duffer you can see that he's showing more animation than he's exhibited this hour back. it ain't that curley's been using the whip either, for that don't hurt dobbin any, his hide is so thick. he smells water in the air, fellows, that's what!" "was that what you noticed?" demanded tom betts, who seemed to have fully recovered from his accident of the morning. "not much. it's only what my dad would call corroborative evidence, or proof," remarked william; whose father, although a blacksmith, was considered one of the best read men in stanhope, and able to argue with judge holt on legal matters. "what did you see, then? don't bait us so, william. did you get a squint of the pond through the trees? funny nobody else saw it then," grumbled jud. "y-y-yes, for g-g-goodness sake t-t-tell us before we d-d-drop dead!" cried bluff, who always stuttered worse when excited. "i just happened to be looking up over the tops of that big clump of trees ahead when i saw a bird; and he told me there was water below," remarked william, calmly. "i didn't hear a single squawk," remarked andy flinn, warmly; "and even if i had, d'ye expect me to belave that ye understand the birrd language. oh! come off. be aisy with us, and roll your hoop, william!" "oh!" william blazed up, "you doubt my word, but that bird told me just as plain as words could there was water below. he was circling up, so as to get above the trees, and put for his nest. and, fellows, when i tell you it was a fish-hawk, with his dinner in his claws, you can understand what i guessed right then and there." "hurrah! for william! he's our keen-eyes! nothing escapes his eagle vision. he's all to the good!" came the shouts, amid more or less laughter. and after that there was no holding the eager scouts in. it seemed as though they could themselves scent the water, just as the wise old dobbin had; for helter-skelter the entire troop started to make a wild dash ahead. even the cripples forgot to limp, and stifled their groans; for they surprised themselves by their ability to sprint with the rest. the first to round the clump of rocks and scrub gave a shout that echoed from the adjacent mountain side; while, he waved his hat above his head to indicate his delight. as the others skirted the obstruction they too gave way to enthusiasm, and the cheers that rolled forth must have startled the hawks, and wearers of fur in this remote region, since they could never before have heard a genuine boyish whoop. there was a lake before them, as wild looking a body of clear water as any one could ever expect to find, even in the adirondacks. indeed, paul, and several others, who had been around more or less, declared that they had never before looked on so desolate a picture. nowhere was there the slightest sign of human habitation. and upon the lonely sheet of water not a solitary craft of any description could be discovered. so far as they could see the banner boy scouts owned the whole region! "alabama! here we rest!" chorused the whole troop, gleefully, as they started on a run for the near shore of the lake. "don't go far away, any fellow," warned paul, knowing the weakness of boys when new and novel scenes beckon them on. he had good reason to speak in this manner; for judging from the appearance of the country by which the lake was surrounded, any fellow who was unlucky enough to get lost, before he secured his bearings, might have a serious time of it. of course the boys had been taught various ways of telling the four points of the compass. sun, moon and stars could be depended on when visible. on a cloudy day or night the bark of the trees would serve as a guide; since the green, mossy side was almost invariably toward the north. besides, paul knew how to make a compass out of his watch, though he generally carried a real magnetic needle in his pocket for emergencies. he and wallace, accompanied by jack, set to work looking the ground over, with the idea of picking out the best place suitable for a camp. "it must be not far from the lake, because we want this nice view," said paul. "then it ought to slope just a little, so as to drain, in case of a heavy rain storm. we don't want to be under any of those big trees either; and you can see why, if you notice what happened to one of them long ago." "yes, that's so," declared jack; "for a bolt of lightning did knock that one down, sure as you're born. how's this place, paul?" a selection was presently made that answered the purpose. paul was of the opinion that it would be open to the sweep of the western wind in case of a violent wind storm; but then they hoped nothing of the sort would visit them while up here in camp. once the word was given, and every boy got busy. tents were pitched with rapidity, and having had one rude experience every fellow made sure that his pins were driven deep into the ground. in some places where this was not possible they made use of obliging rocks to hold the canvas snugly down. the flag pole was cut, and planted under paul's directions; and soon old glory floated proudly in the breeze, with their prize banner just below it. "what shall we call the camp?" went up the cry. "we had camp misery and camp rescue; what's the objection to calling this camp surprise?" asked wallace, quickly. "that's a good name! camp surprise it is!" shouted several in chorus; and as such the permanent camp went down in the log book of every scout. chapter xxi the light on the mountain "paul, we're not alone up here after all!" it was jack who made this remark. he had been skirmishing around later in the afternoon; and came upon the other as paul was standing at the edge of the lake, looking out upon its surface, to where some ducks floated. "well, i never believed we did own the place," returned the patrol leader, with a smile. "but what's happened to give you that idea, jack?" "just by chance," his chum went on, "i saw something moving away up on the side of the mountain. at first i thought it might be some sort of animal; but as i watched i made sure it was human, either a boy or man. and whoever he was he kept track on what we were doing down here. i could see him crane his neck to look, lots of times." "but you couldn't recognize him?" asked paul. "it was pretty far, and there's a sort of haze around us just now. sometimes i thought i knew him, and then i made up my mind i didn't," came the reply. "is he still there, jack?" "yes, but don't look up," said his chum, quickly. "we are in too plain sight here. i thought perhaps you might step into the tent and get our field glasses. then we could slip away, and take a good look on the sly. how's that suit you?" "all right. meet me at the place where you saw him. where was that, jack?" "see that bunch of hemlocks over yonder? i happened to be partly sheltered back of that when i looked up. i'll wait for you there," and jack moved off. two minutes later paul joined him. he had the field glasses tucked under his khaki coat, not wishing to attract the attention of the others, lest they might express a wish to trail along, and so spoil things. "now, tell me where to look," he observed, as he suited the glasses to his eyes, knowing just how far they should be opened to give the best results. jack pointed carefully upward. "he's there yet, because i saw him move while i waited for you, paul," he said, in an eager tone. "i've got him," answered the scout leader, as his hands became rigid. after a brief look he lowered the glasses. "well, who is it?" demanded jack. for answer his chum offered him the glasses; and presently jack had his eyes glued to the smaller end. when he lowered them a short time later his eyes met those of his chum. both of them laughed, as though they had exchanged their views in that glance. "ted slavin?" said paul. "just as sure as fate," went on jack; "and much interested in our doings. that of course means trouble for us at any time. i believe all those fellows have come up here for is to pick quarrels with us. but mr. gordon will know how to handle them when he gets here." "meanwhile," said paul, seriously, "we must be on our guard against a sudden attack. we don't want the name of our camp to mean that we were taken unawares. we'll have things fixed so the boot will be on the other foot, if they try to surprise us." when they looked again, the figure had vanished from that point high up among the rocks. evidently ted, having seen all he wished, had gone to tell his cronies the story. "where d'ye think they've located; because never a tent did they bring along?" jack was asking as they returned to camp. "oh! up here that wouldn't matter much. looks like there might be hundreds of caves of all sizes among these piled-up rocks. and a cave is a pretty good hide-out sometimes. i've spent lots of nights in one." the afternoon sun had vanished behind another elevation that lay to the west; but night was slow in coming, since these were some of the longest days of the year. paul could not help noticing that joe clausin seemed worried once more. he kept by himself a good bit of the time, and his brow was clouded. then again, he had taken to looking suspiciously about, here and there, up the steep mountainside, and even along the dimly-defined road that skirted the lake. it was no mystery to paul, so far as understanding what joe might be worrying about went. "that man with the rig who passed our noon camp on the road--joe knows he's up here somewhere, and perhaps he wants to meet up with him--i wonder why?" was the way the young scoutmaster ran the thing over in his active mind. in one way it did not concern him, because joe had not asked for his assistance; but then again it certainly interested paul. he believed that there was some odd connection between the loss of those papers contained in the tin box, and the presence of that stranger in the region of rattlesnake mountain. again, as before, the pressure of many other things caused him to push all concern about the mysterious stranger from his thoughts. when supper had been cooked and the scouts sat around enjoying its delights, the shadows of coming night told that another period of sentry duty was at hand. "no mr. gordon to-night, i reckon," ventured jud elderkin, as he sat with his tin plate upon his knees, and scooped up the luscious boston baked beans with his fork; while a steaming tin cup of mild coffee stood beside him. most of the boys were not used to this appetizing drink for supper; and a few of them did not take it, being satisfied with cold water; but paul had considered the matter, and was of the opinion that a little change from the regular programme of home life would not hurt these hardy chaps, especially as they were so tired that nothing could keep them awake, once they lay down. "i guess you're right, jud," remarked paul, "and i'm sorry too." "oh! well, we're not worrying," declared jud, looking around at the ring of bright faces, and nodding, "are we, fellows?" "mr. gordon's all right, and a mighty fine gentleman; but we don't really need him," declared one, promptly. "not so you could notice it, while we've got such smart guides as paul and wallace along," declared tom betts. "d-d-don't you g-g-go to forgetting w-w-william here; he's t-t-turned out just a w-w-wonder, you know!" burst out bluff, vigorously waving his knife and fork. "it's william the discoverer after this, fellows; for you know he proved that this bully old lake was here, long before any of us had set eyes on it!" argued another scout. "joking aside, boys," remarked paul, earnestly, "i hope a few more of you will take a pattern from the way william learned that fact. if you only keep your eyes about you all the time, there are dozens of things just as interesting that you can read in the plain signs. and the deeper you dig into the indian way of knowing things the better you'll like it. please fill up my platter again, william, if there's enough to go around a second time. you're getting better as a cook every day you live." as always, the utmost good cheer existed around the rude mess table which had been constructed by several amateur carpenters, while the rest were doing other necessary things. it was meant to go under the big "round-top," as the scouts came to call one of the extra canvas spreads; and could be moved to the open at pleasure, during good weather. "oh! i think he's a bum chef, and ought to get bounced!" every one stared at joe clausin as these words appeared to proceed from his mouth, and no one looked more surprised than joe himself. "if i've just got to eat his messes, you'll have to carry me back to good old stanhope, and mother's cookin', that's what!" joe persisted in saying, though no one saw his lips move. "hey, what d'ye think of that, fellows?" exclaimed william, trying to look indignant. "here i've been breaking my back trying to get up the right kind of grub for the patrol, and this ungrateful member kicks me when i ain't looking!" "but i never----" started joe, when he was cut short again. "now don't you go to saying you didn't mean anything, because the boys heard you speak right out in meetin'!" exclaimed william, getting up, and throwing his hands out as though he meant to wash them of the whole business. "but william," the accused boy went on, eagerly, "didn't i eat more'n any one else? i declare i never said your cooking was off color. it's really decent, and i'm ready to tackle anything you try. somebody's joshing us--somebody's putting the words in my mouth." "it's bobolink changing his voice," called out paul, laughingly. "sure it is!" cried william; "look at his grinning there, for all he makes out to be so innocent. he's up to his old tricks again, fellows; he's practicing that game of ventriloquism on us, that's what." whereupon joe made a dash for the author of his humiliation; but bobolink had been expecting such a move, and was prepared to sprint out of the danger zone. it was in this spirit of merriment that they finished their supper. if any of the scouts began to feel a homesick sensation creeping over them, they were manly enough to hide it from the eyes of their comrades. and later on, when the dishes had been washed systematically, and everything arranged for the night, paul and jack sat together watching the stirring scene. the campfire glowed and snapped, boyish laughter and small talk abounded, and beyond the confines of the camp the sentries walked their beats. "looks good to me, eh, jack?" remarked the weary acting scoutmaster. "same here," declared his chum, warmly; "though i guess you'll be right glad when mr. gordon comes. to-morrow you said we would have some tests of endurance, whether he is on hand or not. i think that is a good idea. but look yonder, paul. isn't that a moving light away up on the side of rattlesnake mountain?" and paul, turning quickly in the direction indicated, was thrilled to discover once more the phantom jack-o-lantern flickering light that had mystified him on that other occasion. this time wallace could not have said it seemed to be made by a man lighting his pipe, for it was too steady. it moved to and fro, now clear, and again dim. then even while the two boys stared, it suddenly vanished from sight. chapter xxii the night alarm "it's gone!" exclaimed jack, drawing a long breath. "seems like it," remarked paul, with a trace of excitement in his usually steady voice; for that strange moving light mystified him. "what do you suppose it could be?" asked his chum, relying as always upon the ability of paul to solve the puzzles. "oh! well, that isn't hard to guess," returned the scout leader. "somebody was moving about with a lantern, as sure as you live. the question that bothers me is to say who the fellow can be." "there's ted and his squad; we happen to know they're roaming around these regions somewhere," suggested jack, quickly. "that's true," said paul, thoughtfully; "and it may be one of that crowd; but somehow i doubt it. in the first place i don't believe they were smart enough to fetch even a lantern along. you know they brag about how they can go into the woods with only a hatchet and a few cooking things, and enjoy life. but we didn't come up here to endure things." "not much," declared jack; "we want all the comforts of a well managed camp. and in the line of fun we've got a string of things laid out that will keep us doing stunts every hour of the time. but if not ted's toadies, then who could be wandering about up there? can you give a guess, paul?" paul could; but then he debated with himself whether he ought to take jack fully into his confidence. he decided that as they had been chums so long, and shared each other's confidences, he ought to speak. besides, joe had shown no intention of confiding anything in him. so in low tones he told about the queer actions of joe clausin when that man in the vehicle had gone by; and the few words he had heard the boy scout mutter. after that he related the incident of his interview with joe. "say, that is mighty funny," observed jack, after he had listened to the whole story. "don't you think the same as i do, and that joe recognized that man?" "it looks that way to me. and he seemed to guess something that was anything but pleasant to him," replied his chum. "speak plainly, jack," said paul, eagerly, catching the other's eye, "you mean that he must have connected the presence of that man here with the robbery of his father the other night? is that it?" "i reckon that was what flashed into joe's mind," remarked jack; "he thought this man was at the other side of the world, he said, did he? well, the very fact that he had turned up here at such a time looks mighty suspicious. paul, what if we happened to run across him while we were in camp here; wouldn't it be a great thing if we found that old tin box for mr. clausin?" "i was thinking about something. did you happen to get a good look at the face of that man as he drove past?" asked the scout leader, gravely. "well, no, i didn't, to tell the truth. i happened to be doing something just then, and when i looked up i only saw his back. but what of it?" asked jack, knowing that his comrade would not speak in this way without a motive. "i did, and it's been bothering me ever since," came the reply. "how was that? did you know him?" demanded jack. "i seemed to see something familiar about him, and yet i couldn't just get hold of it. and jack, just while we were talking it over, and i was telling you about what joe said to me in his confusion, it flashed over me who he made me think of." "who was that?" demanded his chum. "joe!" answered paul, quietly. of course jack was stirred deeply when he heard that. "oh! i wonder what it can mean?" he exclaimed. "i've known joe for more than five years now, and so far i've never heard that he had a brother. you know they came to stanhope from down in jersey somewhere. do you really think it might be so? this fellow, who was, as he believed at the other side of the world, in china or the philippines perhaps, may have come home to rob his father!" "hold on," laughed paul; "you're getting too far ahead, old hoss! don't jump at things that way. this man looked too old to be any brother of joe's. he might be an uncle, though. uncles sometimes go bad, i guess, and do things that make their relatives ashamed of them. suppose we leave it at that, and wait to see if we happen to learn anything more." "but joe knows," persisted jack, doggedly. "that's right," replied paul, seriously; "but don't forget that it's his secret, and as true scouts we've no business to go prying into his affairs unless he asks our help. forget it all for a while, and let's talk about what we have laid out for to-morrow. i do hope mr. gordon shows up. i wonder if he can read the indian talk i left in each place we stopped." they were soon deep in the various interesting features of the programme as mapped out for the next day. having now settled into what they expected would be the permanent camp of the tour, the boys were wild to get down to business, and show their efficiency in the various lines which they favored. "listen to 'em gabble like a pack of old women," laughed jack, as the friendly argument about the crackling fire grew more heated. "bob tice is demanding why they didn't think to bring a portable dark room along, so he could develop his films in the daytime," said paul, after listening a minute; "and jud is explaining to the novice that with his new film tank there's no need of any such thing, for he can do all that work right in the tent at noon." many other subjects were discussed about that blazing fire, and much information passed around. strict discipline was maintained in camp, just as though the scoutmaster himself were present to enforce it. at the hour appointed, bobolink tooted his bugle, and immediate preparations for retiring commenced. twenty minutes later taps sounded, and every light had to go out save the one fire that occupied the centre of the camp. three sentries paced to and fro, and they had been given to understand that any failure to keep constant watch would meet with prompt punishment. they knew that paul meant to enforce his orders; and suspecting that he might creep out under the rear of his tent to make a secret rounds, they were one and all determined that nothing should cause them to fail in their duties. paul was asleep in his tent with two of his mates, when something suddenly awoke him. he sat up to listen, and again heard the sound. it was a dull thud, as of a hard object falling to the ground. then came a distinct splash in the nearby lake. "what in goodness can it be?" he thought, as he listened for a repetition of the strange sounds. "hello! what's going on, paul?" jack asked at that moment, raising his head as if he too had been awakened by the several thumps, and wondered what his chum was doing sitting up. "that's what i'm trying to guess," replied paul, quietly. "sounds as if it was hailing to beat the band!" exclaimed jack, as a series of continuous thumps came. just then some one burst in at the open flap of the tent. it proved to be bluff shipley, who had been appointed sentry from the red fox patrol. "paul, c-c-come out here, q-q-quick!" he cried, in considerable excitement; and as this condition was always bad for the poor fellow's twisted tongue, he began to "fall all over himself," as jack expressed it, when he attempted to go on and explain what had happened. in the jumble, however, paul caught something that gave him the clue he wanted--"ted slavin" and "rocks!" he quickly got inside some clothes, not even waiting in his hurry to remove his pajamas. when he crawled out of the tent he found a number of the scouts had been aroused. their angry shouts were heard on every hand; for a shower of stones was descending upon the camp from some point further up the abrupt side of the mountain. "it's that slavin crowd, as usual!" cried jud, furiously, rubbing his arm where he had been struck. "we've just _got_ to get after them with a hot stick!" exclaimed wallace, who was usually the warmest advocate of peace in the troop; but this constant and vicious annoyance on the part of their rivals was proving too much for even his temper. "come on, fellows; us to the attack!" called bobolink, with his accustomed vim; "this is the limit, and we've just got to flag 'em!" all discipline was forgotten in the excitement of the moment. nor did paul try to show his authority. he was very nearly as indignant as any of them; and had they been able to locate the enemy, possibly there might have ensued a scramble that would hardly have been to the credit of the well known peaceful principles of the scouts. but the stone throwing seemed to cease about the time the scouts began to climb the side of the rocky elevation. doubtless ted and his allies knew that it would be dangerous for them to remain longer; and having stirred up a hornets' nest below, they probably crept away over a path they had mapped out, which would lead to their cave camp. the boys came back in bunches of twos and threes presently, heated with their useless search, and breathing out all sorts of threats against the disturbers of their peace. on the next night paul meant to have a vidette posted on the mountain side, whose one particular duty would be to look out for prowlers. there was no further alarm that night. possibly ted and his crowd believed that it would not be wise to go in too strongly for these things. and so another day dawned, that was fated to be full of strenuous doings between sunrise and sunset. chapter xxiii what the eyes of a scout may see "what damage was done last night?" asked jack, as he and paul walked around the camp, while the cooks of the several patrols were engaged in getting breakfast over fires built after that clever fashion, partly in holes in the ground. "well," replied his chum, "outside of jud's bruised arm that will handicap him a bit in his work; and one hole through the fly that serves as our mess tent; i haven't been able to find anything. but i picked up several stones that must have come down, and they were big enough to hurt if they had hit any of us." "what ought we to do?" asked jack. "for one i think we've just got to change our way of handling those fellows. the more we try to argue, and hold out the olive branch, the worse they get. i hate to tell the boys we've reached the end of the rope; but what else is left?" and paul, as he spoke, shook his head, and drew a long breath. "oh! nothing but give tit for tat," returned jack, without a pause, as if his mind had long been made up. "why, even a quaker will fight if forced to defend his honor; or some bully attacks his family. they say a worm will turn; which you mustn't take to mean that we are grubs." "well," declared paul, "to-night we'll have a watch set, and if they try that sort of thing again, perhaps they'll find two can play at a bombardment." the welcome call to breakfast broke in on their dialogue; and being possessed of the ordinary boy's appetite, both paul and his chum were not at all backward about dropping into their places around the rude table. of course pretty much all the talk during the meal was about the unprovoked and cowardly attack of the preceding night. every time a boy cast his eyes upward, and saw the sky through the ragged hole in the canvas cover, he was noticed to grit his teeth, and look angry. but paul assured them that he had a plan ready whereby they could put a stop to this rough treatment. knowing him as they did, the scouts felt sure he had been driven to the limit of his forbearance. having gone as far as their code called for in the effort to keep the peace, they would certainly be justified in taking the law into their own hands from this time forth. "forget it all until night comes, fellows," said paul, finally, when they had talked the subject threadbare. "meanwhile don't think you're going to get any sort of a nap to-day. there will be something doing every minute of the time from now up to supper call. and to begin with, let the dishwashers get busy right away, so as to clear the decks for action." as every one had satisfied his appetite, and just then cared little whether there was ever such a thing as eating again, they were not sorry to leave the mess tent. the camp was quickly a scene of animation. some fellows were busy with cameras, seeking enticing subjects for views that would do them credit when the results of the great hike were examined by a committee later on. others set about making preparations for the various duties to which they had been assigned. paul kept his finger on the pulse of everything that took place. he sent one squad along the shore of the lake to try the fishing. another was engaged in forming a rude raft so that they could have something on which to paddle around from time to time. still another group followed paul and wallace to hunt for signs of the raccoons they had heard during the preceding night. each boy of the bunch was expected to jot down in his note-book the various interesting things they came across as they tramped. paul gave a few hints; but he wanted them to think it out for themselves. the most observing would make mention of dozens of things that might never attract the eye of the novice in woodcraft. he would state the species of trees he noticed on either hand; the formation of the rocks, the result perhaps of a former hurricane that leveled many old trees, and the direction which it must have passed along over this country; he would find a multitude of things to mention in the sap-sucker that tapped the dead limb of a tree; the wise crow that cawed at them from a distance; the flashing bluejay that kept just ahead of them; the red squirrel and the little chipmunks that scurried over the ground, to watch with bright eyes from the shelter of some tree, or hummock of up-tilted stones. there was absolutely no limit to the list of interesting subjects that an observing lad could find to fill pages upon pages in his memorandum book. after he had returned home again how pleasant it would be to read anew these notes, and realize that he could not be termed blind when he passed along the trail. and then the tracks of the little woods animals, how interesting it was to hunt for them close to the border of the water, where they could be plainly seen in the soft mud. at first one seemed pretty much like another to the greenhorns; but either paul or wallace, who had studied these things before, pointed out the difference; and after that lesson the other fellows could easily tell the tracks of a raccoon from those of a mink or a 'possum, for they found them all. after that paul took pains to explain just how differently the imprint of a dog's or a cat's foot looked when compared with those of the wild woods folks. these two were so much alike that bobolink remarked upon the fact. "how can you tell them apart, paul?" he asked, looking at the prints made by the scout leader in the mud. "that's easy," replied paul, "if you notice that the dog leaves the track of his nails every time; while puss, well, she sheathes her claws while she walks, keeping them sharp for business when she sights a sparrow or a young rabbit." "but look here, what's this funny track here? some baby must have put its hand down in the mud; but that's silly, of course. whatever made these, paul?" asked philip towne, pointing ahead to a spot they had as yet not visited. paul took one look, and smiled. he turned to wallace, who nodded instantly. "a muskrat made those tracks, boys," observed paul; "you see he leaves marks entirely unlike any others we've seen. and here is where our friend, mr. crow, came down from his perch where he's been scolding us so long. he wanted a drink perhaps; or expected to pick up a breakfast along the edge of the water, from insects that have been washed ashore." all these things were very attractive to the boys. "this thing gets better and better the deeper you climb into it," declared bobolink, as he wrote away for dear life, jotting down all he could remember of what he had heard. some of the boys even made rude but effective diagrams of the various tracks, so that they would have the proof to show if ever a dispute arose concerning the difference between the several species. many other things did paul and wallace bring to their attention. why, it seemed as though one had only to turn around up on the side of rattlesnake mountain to discover new and wonderful facts that these boys never dreamed of before. "where do you suppose this old pile of rocks ever got its name, paul?" asked one of the scouts, as he looked up at the frowning crest far above. "i really don't know," replied paul; "i took the trouble to ask a number of people too, who have lived around stanhope for scores of years, and they couldn't tell me; they said it had always gone by that name, and supposed that once it was a regular rattlesnake den." "why, yes," interrupted jud elderkin; "one man told me he remembered when there was a queer chap lived up here, a cripple too, who in those days used to put in all his time hunting rattlesnakes for their skins, which were used to make pocketbooks and slippers and belts out of; and he sold the oil, too." "oil?" exclaimed bobolink, "now, what do you mean by that? do they use it for lamps, or watches, like they do porpoise oil?" "how about that, wallace?" asked paul, seeing that the reader of the carberry twins gave evidence of possessing knowledge along those lines. "good for rheumatism, they say," observed wallace; "athletes also use it to limber up their limbs. it has a commercial value. some men make a business of hunting rattlesnakes pretty much all the year." "excuse me from the job then," said bobolink, making a wry face. "ugh! i hate the sight of a snake! say, you don't think there might be a little bunch of the nasty scaly monsters left over from the old cripple's hunt, do you, paul?" "i hope we won't run across any," returned the patrol leader, soberly; "for it's no fun getting struck by the fangs of a rattlesnake. i've never had that bad luck, and i give you my word i'm not hankering after an experience, either." "but then it might happen to one of us," retorted bobolink; "and as a wise general i hope you've thought of bringing a gallon or two of strong drink along. that seems to be the only thing that can save a poor fellow when he's been jabbed by one of these twisters; anyhow, that's what i've read about it." "you're away off then, bobolink," laughed paul; "for we haven't a drop of liquor in camp. there's a better way to counteract a snake bite; and i intend telling the whole troop when we gather at lunch to-day, as well as distribute some little packets i made up, under my father's directions." "but go on," demanded jud, "now that you've said so much. if a rattlesnake jumped out of those bushes there, and gave me a jab on the leg, how ought i go about it to keep from keeling over? i want to know, and i ain't from missouri, either!" "well," paul started to say, "in the first place you ought to know that no rattlesnake ever jumps out at anybody. at the slightest sign of danger he coils up, and sounds his policeman's rattle, which is just as near like the buzzing of a big locust as you can get it." "say, that's why they call a policeman's club his locust, ain't it?" interrupted bobolink; at which paul smiled and nodded. "if you should get excited on hearing this warning, and rush straight at the snake, not seeing him, why he'd get you. the first thing to do is to free your leg from all clothing, if he struck you, and tie a bandage tight above the mark where his fangs hit. then get down yourself, or if you have a chum along, and you always will up here, according to the orders to hunt in pairs, have him suck the wound as hard as he can, spitting out the poison." "good gracious!" cried bobolink, "but won't he get the dope instead of you, then?" "it would never hurt him," answered paul, quickly, "unless he happens to have a cut about his mouth. if that is the case he must never try to suck a snake bite. hot water will help nearly as well as sucking. then use some of the strong ammonia that is in a little bottle, to burn the wound. never mind the pain, for your life is in danger. another bottle holds some aromatic spirits of ammonia, which can be taken inwardly, as it is useful to keep up the strength and nerve of the wounded fellow." "is that all?" asked the interested jud. "pretty much all," paul went on. "don't keep on the tight cord or bandage more than an hour, for it stops circulation, and might bring on mortification, father says. ease up on it for a bit. the arm will sting like fun, but stand it. if the patient shows signs of collapse, tighten the cord again for a time. do this several times until you can take the cord off for good." "oh! i see," said bobolink; "by that time the poor chap will either be recovered or else have kicked the bucket. but i do hope none of us get mixed up with one of that old cripple hunter's left-overs. i'm going to keep my eyes about all the while." "that's a good idea," declared paul, laughing; "and every fellow ought to follow suit. but let's go back to the camp now, boys. we've had about as much as anybody can cram into their head at one time." "here, paul, please take a look at these marks, and tell me what sort of an animal made 'em!" called out jud, who had been bending over, half on his knees, as if deeply interested in what he had found. all of them hurried to the spot. "perhaps he's found the spoor of a runaway elephant!" suggested bobolink, wickedly, with that passing circus in mind. "more'n likely," observed philip towne; "it's a wildcat that's been prowling around the camp. once, when i crawled out to take my watch, i thought i saw a pair of yellow eyes staring at me over the edge of that little cliff back of the tents." paul made no remark. he was himself bending over now, and looking at the ground just where jud pointed. those who were watching him saw paul start, and look closer. "it must be a lynx; or perhaps a regular old panther has come down here from the north woods," said bobolink, really beginning to believe such a thing might be so. "hardly," remarked paul; "but all the same it may mean trouble for us. you can see that these tracks were made by a man, for he had a foot much longer than any of the scouts; and boys, i'm afraid he's been hanging around our camp for some purpose!" chapter xxiv the strangest fishing ever known "a man!" echoed wallace, also looking grave; and even while speaking he turned his head to stare upward toward that grim cap of old rattlesnake mountain that hung so high above them. perhaps wallace had seen that will-o'-the-wisp light far up the side of the rocky steep on the preceding night, as well as paul and jack. he may have been pondering over it since, though neglecting to speak to the patrol leader. "well," said bobolink, with a relieved look, "i'd rather have a two-legged man wandering around our camp than a four-legged tiger-cat, any day." "of course you would," observed jack, drily, "but think how awful it would be if a four-legged man was spying on us!" bobolink only snorted at this thrust. it was not often the other fellows had a chance to give him a sly dig; and that was why jack could not resist the temptation, even while paul was looking so worried. "i think we had better run this trail out a bit, fellows," remarked the patrol leader; "and see what he was after. it seems to have come from along the shore of the lake, and struck up the rise about here. what say, wallace?" "i'm with you all right," came the immediate reply from the one addressed; "it will give us some exercise, and experience; because once he strikes the rocks we'll have to be pretty smart not to lose him." accordingly they all bent their heads low over the spot where that plain print of the boot was to be seen. "say, do you know what this makes me think of?" demanded bobolink. "not elephants, panthers, or two-legged men, of course!" chuckled jack. "oh! rats!" expostulated his fellow scout. "come off your perch, jack, and talk sense. you make me think of an old polly, just able to repeat things over and over. but to see us all down on our knees staring at that trail made me remember the alarm of poor old robinson crusoe when he found the footprint of the cannibal on his island." "well, the comparison isn't so bad--for you, bobolink," observed jack; "because while we haven't got an island that we can call our own, we seemed to be the only campers on this lake; and to discover that there is another fellow on the spot ready to dispute our claim makes us feel that we've been taken in and done for. but there goes paul." the scout leader was indeed moving off. still bending low, and making positive of every step, he kept advancing slowly but steadily. when there was the least doubt he asked wallace for his opinion; for two heads sometimes prove better than one. presently they came to where the rocks began to stand out. here the difficulties increased at a surprising rate, for the impressions were very faint indeed. still paul eagerly continued his labor, because there was a fascination about it for him. he dearly loved to solve any puzzle, no matter how bewildering; and in these dimly defined traces of a man's upward progress he found that he had a problem worthy of his very best efforts. sometimes the trail seemed utterly to have vanished. indeed, jud and bobolink again and again declared that it was useless trying to pursue it any further. but paul would not give up, and he had a good backer in wallace. this time they would find a broken twig that had given way under pressure. then again it would be a stone overturned that caught their eye. and a little later the proof of their reasoning was shown in a clear imprint of the foot in a soft patch of earth. then the others would exchange glances of wonder, almost awe, and shake their heads, as though they were of the opinion that such work was bordering on magic. but paul only used common-sense in his trailing, calling to his aid all that he had ever read, heard or seen of the art. "hey, we're right above the camp, fellows!" exclaimed bobolink presently. raising his head paul saw that what his companion said was true. but he did not look surprised; for all along he had felt convinced that the unknown must be making for some spot where he could obtain a good survey of the little encampment without being observed by the sentries while walking their beats. two minutes later the quartet found themselves on the brink of the little shelf where philip towne, who had given up the pursuit some time back, had, as he declared, seen a pair of yellow eyes during the night. all of them peered over. the tents were not more than twenty-five feet below. indeed, that one which contained their supplies lay almost directly under them. the patrol leader seemed to be possessed of an idea. perhaps it originated in certain marks which he had discovered in the thin layer of earth along the edge of the shelf. "i think i know why this party hung about the camp so long last night," paul remarked, when he looked up; and the others hardly knew whether the expression on his face stood for amusement or chagrin. "if it was daytime when he came, i'd think he wanted to get a great picture of the outfit; but in the night, nixy," remarked bobolink, who always had an opinion, one way or the other. wallace himself looked puzzled. "don't keep us strung up any longer, paul," he pleaded. "what's your idea?" "put out your hand, then, just back of that bush, and see what you find," and paul pointed while speaking to a particular little scrubby plant that had evidently been partly broken down by the passage of some heavy object over it. "a string!" exclaimed wallace, as he held it up. "somebody been flying a kite!" ejaculated the ever resourceful bobolink. "suppose you pull it in," continued paul. when wallace had drawn about eight yards of the stout cord he gave a grunt. "well, what did you strike?" asked paul, smiling with confidence. "why, hang it, if it isn't a fish hook!" cried wallace. "oh! the looney has been fishing here; now, what d'ye think of that?" exclaimed bobolink, in apparent glee. wallace, however, understood at once. he again looked over the edge. "but paul, how could he ever get his line in under that canvas, and secure any of our grub?" he protested. "it happened unfortunately that he didn't have to. i can show you marks here on the ground that plainly outline one of our fine hams," said paul, pointing to where he had been so closely examining the ground. "a ham! oh! my, oh! me, don't tell me that!" cried bobolink, making a gesture of despair; "for we're half through the other one, and it was _so_ good. how could the villain ever clap hands on our prize; tell me that, won't you paul?" "i know, all right," said wallace in disgust, "and i guess it was my fault too. i remember suggesting that it would be a good idea to hang the second ham from the pole william drove into the face of this little cliff about seven feet up; and they did it too, the worse luck!" "yes," remarked paul, drily, "and it caught the eye of this fellow, whoever he was. the temptation must have been too strong for him. perhaps he enjoys a joke. anyhow, he got it, after some little use of his fishline. we're out a ham, that's plain, fellows." "think of snapping a porker's hind leg off a pole," groaned bobolink, "and playing it, inch by inch, up here; while our gay guards walked back and forth on post, as innocent as the babes in the woods. it gets me, all right!" none of the banner boy scouts looked very happy. like many other things, a ham is never so much appreciated as when it has disappeared. "say, you don't think, now, it could have been one of that slavin bunch, do you?" demanded bobolink, presently; "because i happen to know scissors dempsey is mighty fond of pork, every way you can fix it." "i've thought of that," said paul, without hesitation; "but you can see the foot is an extra long one. no boy's shoe ever made that. and it's had a home-made patch on it, too. no, some man has been here, and made way with our ham." "oh! won't it be bad for him if ever we meet the wretch!" threatened bobolink. "just you see what the fellows say, when they know. only enough ham for one more meal! that's what i call tough." there was a howl indeed, when the other campers learned what had happened. all sorts of theories were advanced, and paul laughed at some of these. "that old humpback rattlesnake oil man must have come to life again, just like rip van winkle," declared nuthin, who seemed to have heard the story somewhere; "and could you blame him for wanting ham, after sniffing the _delicious_ smells that went up from this camp last night, while william was busy?" william thereupon made his lowest bow, with his hand on his heart. "oh! thank you!" he exclaimed, simpering; "this is too, too sudden; and i've really left the speech i prepared, at home." but while the rest were both growling and making fun over the secret visit of the unknown, paul noticed that there was one in the party who said never a word. that was joe clausin. he listened to everything, without comment; but there was a puzzled look on his face, as though he could not quite understand certain facts. paul realized that he was thinking about the man who looked like the party he knew; but who was supposed to be at the other side of the world just then. joe believed it might have been this person who stole the ham; and yet something seemed to upset such a theory. possibly the mention of that extra long foot, and the patched shoe, hardly agreed with his ideas. and while they were standing around, still engaged in disputing and advancing new theories, some one gave a shout. "i saw a man on a wheel just flash past that open spot back along the trail!" he cried; and immediately every eye was focussed on the spot indicated; for coming at just such a moment the news electrified the scouts. chapter xxv paul lays down his burden "there! i just caught a squint of him, back of the trees!" whooped william. "and he's coming lickety-split, to beat the band, too. oh! i hope it isn't a messenger from stanhope to bring us any bad news!" cried tom betts; who had left a sick mother when he came on the trip, and whose conscience, perhaps, caused him to have a sudden fear. more than one pair of cheeks lost some of their color, in that quick spasm of alarm, following this suggestion on the part of tom. "listen, fellows; he's tooting his auto horn like fun! it gives me a scare for keeps!" ejaculated philip towne. but paul laughed aloud. "don't get frightened, fellows," he exclaimed, "i sure ought to know the sound of that old siren. that's my wheel; and who do you think's on it but our good scoutmaster, mr. gordon!" "hurrah!" came from a dozen pairs of lips, as the boys swung their hats aloft. and this was the exciting picture that met the eyes of the scoutmaster when he burst into view around a bend, and sighted the camp on the lake shore. mr. gordon was a very bright young fellow, with considerable experience in training boys. he had a fair grasp of the grand possibilities of this boy scouts' movement, and never lost an opportunity to pick up additional information. nor did he disdain to ask some of his scouts concerning matters they had studied, but along which lines he did not happen to be well informed. there was a grand "pow-wow," as william called it, after he came. he had to hear all that had happened since his leaving stanhope on that unfortunate business trip. the adventures at the church on both nights were recounted by those who had taken part; and it was plain that the story lost none of its comical features in the telling. after that he heard about the grand march, the meeting with the circus, and what the scouts had done to clear up their record for the day. then came the various things that had occurred; until at last the dismal truth about the missing ham made mr. gordon laugh heartily. "how did you manage with the indian sign letters i left with you, sir?" paul asked, when he found a chance. "pretty well," replied the scoutmaster; "though once or twice your meaning was not quite clear. i had to use a lot of commonsense to understand whether a boy was pulled from the river, and brought around all right; or if a poor fellow had been taken with the colic, and you used a stomach pump on him. but then, as i said, my good sense told me the former must have been the case. who was it, and is he all right again?" "i'm the victim," declared tom betts, promptly; "and i guess the whole show would have been broke up if paul here hadn't yanked me out like he did." mr. gordon turned a look of sincere affection on paul. he had studied the boy often, and always found something new to admire about him. still, he knew it was not always wise to praise a lad to his face; and so he only squeezed paul's hand. paul was a happy fellow just then. it seemed to him that the load of responsibility had slipped from his shoulders like magic with the coming of mr. gordon. now they could undertake all manner of interesting stunts; and each day would be taken up with dozens of events in which they wished to shine. presently the fishermen made their appearance. a shout went up at sight of the glorious strings of fine trout they carried. although they had heard the cheers of their mates, and understood that mr. gordon must have arrived, really they did not have the heart to break away, while the fish were feeding so savagely. "welcome the coming, speed the parting guest!" cried bobolink; "good-bye ham, and how d'ye do mr. trout. i really don't know which i like best. when i'm eating trout my thoughts go out to ham; and when i'm sitting down to a rasher of bacon i do long so for a mess of trout. but they're all to the good, fellows. do it some more, will you?" and when william and the other cooks served the fish at noon the boys were loud in their praises. some had suggestions to offer about the ways of cooking them; but it was noticed that half the inmates of the camp busied themselves immediately after lunch in hunting fishing tackle; and the prospect for peace among the finny tribes in that lake was small. there was no little rivalry between the trio of cooks. usually this took the form of good-natured chaffing, and trying new dishes, in order to arouse the envy of other patrols. bobolink always hung around to hear these discussions; but william made a great mistake when, thinking to bolster up his cause at one time, he demanded to know what the member of the red fox patrol thought about it. "huh!" grunted the wise bobolink, "i'll tell you, if you promise not to hold it against me, and give me the poorest grub in the bunch for spite." "all right, go on," said william slowly, as though he already began to doubt the wisdom of asking his comrade's opinion; "i don't know as you c'n settle this important question at all; but i promise not to hold anything against you. give us a straight yarn, now, bobolink, hear!" "well," said bobolink, with a grin, "when i hear you learned cooks disputing about how to do this, and that, i just have to think about the blind men and the elephant, you see." "what about 'em?" demanded nat smith, who belonged to the third patrol, and had carried his mother's big cook book along into camp, thinking to surprise his rivals by the vast extent of his knowledge concerning cookery terms. "oh! shucks, d'ye mean to say you never heard that story?" said bobolink. "well, a lot of blind men in the far east disputed about what an elephant looked like, though nary one had ever seen the critter. so they went, one at a time, to find out. now what d'ye think happened?" "how under the sun do we know? get along with the yarn!" exclaimed william. "each feller came back with a different story," went on bobolink gravely; "the one that grabbed the tail of the elephant vowed the wonderful animal was mighty like a rope. another says a snake, because, you see, he got hold of the swinging trunk. a third vows the elephant was like a wall, just because he slammed up against his side. and a fourth hugged his leg, and was ready to take his affidavy the famous beast was made just like a tree! get the idea, boys?" apparently they did, for a minute later bobolink was seen flying for his life through the woods, with three mad cooks in full pursuit, shaking their fists after him, and threatening all sorts of vengeance. paul and mr. gordon concluded to push out from shore on the big raft, and try the fishing in that style. fortunately there was little air stirring, so that the clumsy contrivance could be readily managed. mr. gordon was not an expert fisherman; while paul had had considerable experience in the art during his several summers in maine. he cast his flies with such skill that the scoutmaster expressed admiration, and took lessons in sending out the oiled silk line, so that the imitation flies dropped on the water softly. they cast in toward the shore, of course, and near the spot where a creek sent its waters into the lake, each of them had a strike. paul succeeded in landing his fish, which proved to be a fair-sized specimen. then mr. gordon tried again. in a short time he had a strike, and with a quick motion of the wrist succeeded in fastening the barb of the hook in the jaw of the fish. "it's a dandy too, sir!" exclaimed paul, as he saw a flash of rainbow colors, when the big trout jumped wildly into the air, trying to break loose by falling on the line; "keep a tight pull on him, sir, and if he drags too hard let him have just a little more line. oh! but he's a beauty." so coaching mr. gordon by degrees, he finally got the landing net ready; and after the prize had been played until almost exhausted it was lifted upon the raft with one swift and accurate movement. after that the fishing seemed to slacken. though the lake was undoubtedly just teeming with fish, still they had their times for feeding, and between these nothing could induce them to take hold. later in the day there were swimming tests started, and mr. gordon, who was at home in this sport, showed the boys many tricks whereby their prowess in the water might be doubled. paul had dressed, having cut his foot a trifle while walking on the rocks. he and the scoutmaster, were standing there talking, mr. gordon still had on his swimming trunks. "i was just thinking, paul," he remarked, "what a queer lake this is. have you noticed that it seems to have no visible outlet? possibly some of its waters manage to get to the bushkill because there are several streams running in; but where does it flow out?" "why, yes," returned paul, "i did notice that. i suppose there must be an outlet in the bottom of the lake somewhere." "just what i had concluded; and it would stand to reason that such a hole might be somewhere near here. i'm a little anxious, because i've had an experience myself with such a sucker-hole, and came near losing my life in one. i managed to get hold of rocks on the bottom, and clawed my way outside the terrible suction that was drawing me steadily in toward the centre." "why, i noticed a peculiar swirl down just below where the boys are swimming now. there, andy flinn has dived right into the spot! oh! i hope nothing will happen to andy, sir. perhaps you'd better call them out, right away!" mr. gordon uttered an exclamation of alarm. he turned his head and seemed to be looking for something. then paul saw him snatch up a rope that was coiled, and hanging from the stump of a tree close to the camp. mr. gordon had placed it there himself, and for a purpose. "come with me, paul!" he called over his shoulder; but there was little need of his saying this, for the young patrol leader was already hurrying after him, his face white with sudden fear. chapter xxvi the sucker-hole the swimmers were astonished to see mr. gordon coming on the run toward them, with paul at his heels. but by that time the two who had been actively playing conquer with andy flinn began to notice something queer. "he don't come up at all, sir; andy's got us all beat to a frazzle staying under!" one of them declared, as if surprised that the irish lad could hold his breath so long. the words thrilled paul, for he realized that his worst fears were likely to be realized. and how glad he felt that there was some one else there now, capable of assuming the responsibility. had the duty devolved on him, not knowing the terrible peril of a sucker-hole, he might have plunged straight in, to try and find andy; when there would have been two victims, perhaps many more! mr. gordon was quickly flinging one end of the rope toward paul. he had slipped the noose over his own body, securing it under his arms. "if you feel any quick jerks pull hard!" he shouted. the next instant, he had leaped from the bank. they saw him take a graceful header into the agitated water, where the boys were gathering. then he vanished from their sight. paul clutched the rope and gathered in the slack. his heart was pounding like mad with the anxiety, while he waited for results. if no signal came after a certain lapse of time he meant to pull in anyway; determined that mr. gordon must not be sacrificed too. "get a grip here, some of you fellows!" he called, fearing lest he might not be able to manage alone. willing hands seized hold, and half a dozen hung to the rope. every eye was fastened on the surface of the water; but since the boys had trooped ashore it was no longer agitated. paul could see that wide circle forming a distinct swirl. he shuddered as he looked at it. never again would he ever watch a sweeping ring in the water without feeling a coldness in the region of his heart. the terrible seconds passed. some of the boys were as white as ghosts; and they shivered while standing there scantily clad. "oh! let's drag him back!" exclaimed william, who had hold next to paul. "not yet. it isn't hardly half a minute, and mr. gordon can hold out longer than that," paul replied, firmly; though himself anxiously counting the seconds, because he knew he could never trust to a haphazard guess. "there! wasn't that a jerk?" asked jud elderkin; but the wish was father to the thought; and again paul refused to be swerved from his plan of action. sighs were heard, and more than one groan. it required considerable firmness on the part of the patrol leader to refrain, when every nerve in his body seemed crying out in protest. but the time he had set as a limit had not yet expired. just as he was about to give in, he felt a sudden quick pull, followed by another. "now!" he called, in his excitement, and it was like the letting off steam from an overcharged boiler. how those fellows did pull upon that line! paul had to caution them to be careful, such was their eagerness to get the scoutmaster safely above water. and when presently his figure arose, and they saw that he was carrying poor andy in his arms, such a shout as went up! two fellows who had been in camp all this while, resting in ignorance as to the thrilling event that was transpiring, came galloping along the shore to see what was up. mr. gordon knew just how to get to work in order to revive andy, providing he had not been under the water too long. his system was the same as that used by paul; indeed, it had been the scoutmaster who had taught paul much of what he knew in the science of life saving. after half an hour of hard work, during which the boys were greatly depressed, success greeted their efforts. andy was revived; but he had had even a closer call than tom betts. it was a very useful lesson to every boy in camp, and one that they could profit by in future years. "what did it feel like, andy?" asked mr. gordon, after the rescued boy had recovered enough to talk. "sure and i thought a great big giant had holt of me," andy remarked, slowly and thoughtfully. "i tried me best to break away; but the harder i swum the tighter he grabbed me. i remimber trying to shout out for help, and swallowin' a quart of wather. thin i didn't know anything at all till i opened me peepers right here, and saw yees all dancin' around me. but i don't go swimmin' in that old lake agin. it's enchanted, that's what it is." when the secret of the unseen outlet of the lake was explained to andy, he just smiled and shook his head. he had been down there, and ought to know if there was a giant waiting to make a meal of plump boys. nor could they ever convince andy to the contrary; and it was noticed that he did not go in bathing again during their stay. after that, while swimming tests as well as those of diving, were expected to be indulged in every day during their stay in camp surprise, the boys would keep well away from the place where that steady swirl in the water told of the treacherous sucker-hole. mr. gordon's chief forte lay in water athletics. he was like a duck himself, and never tired of teaching those boys who showed an inclination to learn. it was of vast importance to know just what ought to be done should a swimmer be suddenly seized with a cramp while in deep water, and with no one near to help him. then he took pains to show them just how it was possible to break the frenzied grip of a drowning person, that has so many times drawn a would-be rescuer down to a watery grave. whether the grasp was upon the wrists, the neck, or around the body from the back, there was a simple method of shaking off the terrified one in order to clutch him unawares. talk or entreaty being impossible under such circumstances, immediate action is the only way of accomplishing results. in the wrist hold the swimmer must suddenly raise his arms and sink, eluding the other's clutch as he goes down. when clasped about the neck it is necessary to raise the knees and give a sudden and powerful thrust forward that forces the other away. "that grip on the back has always been the most difficult to manage, for me at least," the instructor continued, while explaining the various methods by actual demonstration, in the water; "sometimes you can take hold of the wrists that are clasped around you, and by pushing with all your force backward, find a chance to slip out from the threatening embrace." "but suppose that fails?" observed jack, who, as a good swimmer, was eagerly listening to all that was said, and endeavoring to profit by the advice. the scoutmaster shrugged his shoulders at this question. "well," he said gravely, "under such conditions there remains but one method. it sounds cruel, but remember that two lives are at stake. heroic measures alone can save one, and give the other a chance. throw back your head suddenly with considerable force. you will come in contact with his nose, and give him a shock that is likely to so unsettle him that you can break away, and turn around." he even showed the boys how this could be done, without, of course, bringing into play the roughest part of the rescue act. if every boy scout only learned these simple rules for rescuing a comrade without running much risk himself, dozens and scores of precious lives might be saved every summer. as evening came on, and preparations were being made to have a rousing supper, in order to celebrate the arrival of the scoutmaster, mr. gordon and paul separated themselves from the rest of the campers to talk matters over. "one thing is sure, paul," remarked mr. gordon, with a look of grim determination; "we must make certain that there is no repetition of last night's bombardment." "you mean the slavin crowd, sir, i take it?" observed the patrol leader. "yes," went on mr. gordon; "and i commend your plan for nipping such a thing in the bud. of course it's a shame that we are not allowed to camp up here in peace. but those fellows need a good lesson before they'll call quits, and go back home. i've made up my mind just what ought to be done in the matter." "you know," said paul, "i suggested having several of our scouts located up on the side of the mountain, with plenty of ammunition handy; and when the first stone is thrown, they could send a volley right at the spot where they discover the others at work." "a good idea, too," commented the scoutmaster, readily, "and one we will put into operation; but even that does not strike at the root of the matter. if we are disturbed to-night, or at any other time by those unruly boys, i shall organize an expedition on the very next morning, to search the side of the mountain back of us, in the hope of finding where they have their headquarters." "we have made up our minds that it must be in a cave. i understand the mountain is fairly honeycombed with them in parts, mr. gordon." "i have no doubt that will prove to be the case," continued the leader of the troop; "since you say they brought no tents along, and not very much to eat. and should we find out where they are located i am going to manage in some way to make them lose what few provisions they have. that is the quickest way in the world to subdue a hostile army; capture their base of supplies." "you mean they will have to go back home, or stay hungry?" laughed paul; "well, i never thought of that, and must say it is fine. i don't think you'll have any trouble about getting recruits for that expedition. the fact is, every fellow will want to be in the party." "then we'll choose those we want," said mr. gordon, "and make the rest guard the camp, which might be raided by the angry slavin crowd, when they learned what was on the carpet. but paul, that odor in the air smells very appetizing. i imagine our cooks must be doing themselves proud to-night. it will be hard to wait for the assembly call. look at our william putting on airs with that chef's white cap cocked over his ears. oh! this is certainly worth while coming for. what's that, bobolink picking up his bugle? i really believe supper is ready. how glad i am to be here to-night. come, paul, and let us see what sort of fare the stanhope troop can offer us." chapter xxvii gathering clouds pop! pop! pop! "listen to that, will you?" shouted william, as he jumped to his feet, and waved his arms above his head to attract attention. it was the following day. the night had passed without any alarm, and the squad of scouts posted on the side of the mountain with instructions to shower stones on ted and his allies should any attack be made on the camp, had their labor for their pains, since nothing happened out of the ordinary. during the middle of the morning, while many of the scouts were at work developing plates, and printing pictures that had already been taken, suddenly there came on the breeze that quick pulsating sound, so unlike anything one might expect to hear up in this vast solitude. "it's ward's motorcycle!" cried jud elderkin, almost upsetting the daylight film-tank in his eagerness to gain his feet. "yes, and he's coming down the old road like fun," remarked another of the boys with a laugh; "reckon a wildcat or something is after him!" "there he is!" called philip towne, pointing to an opening among the trees; and immediately adding, "no he's gone past. look what's that chasing him?" "oh! that's the rest of the lot, whooping it up on their wheels," remarked william, himself interested, and ready to snap his camera at the procession as soon as it got within open range; "and they look like they've had a bad scare, as sure as you live. oh! there goes scissors head over heels in the bushes. what a cropper he took, and how his head will sing to-morrow." "but he's up again, and mounted," broke in jack. "as sure as you live, boys, they do look like they wanted to get back home in a hurry. what d'ye suppose has scared them?" by this time ward on his motorcycle was abreast of the camp. he was not putting up any great speed, for the road would not allow of it. on this account the fellows on ordinary bicycles were able to hang closely to his rear. it was not in human nature to hold back that cheer which went up from the camp of the boy scouts. possibly there was considerable of irony in it too, the kind that smarts with all lads. those who were in full flight seemed to consider that they were being held up to derision, for they sent back answering cries of scorn, accompanied by not a few gestures. "hurrah, i've got the whole kit!" shouted william, as he lowered his camera, "ward, scissors, bud jones, monkey eggleston and nat green. we've got all the evidence we want, to show they were up here. but i missed that dandy header scissors took! what wouldn't i give to get that?" "i might spare you a copy, if my exposure turns out all right, william," remarked jack, smiling; "for i just happened to be pressing the button when he showed us what an acrobat he had become." "they're gone now," said tom betts, as the last of the group, being poor scissors himself, with one hand trying to staunch the blood that flowed from his nose, wobbled among the stones that so plentifully strewed the unused road. paul and jack exchanged glances as they approached each other. "what do you suppose has happened to give them that bad scare?" asked the latter. "i might give a guess, but perhaps we'll never know," replied paul. "i suppose," ventured his chum, "you're thinking of that man, the fellow who stole our ham, and who came up here in that light rig?" "yes," said the patrol leader, seriously, "but when i was out on the mountain this morning after breakfast i thought i'd take a chance to follow that trail further. what do you think i found only a few hundred feet away from our camp?" "i really don't know, paul." "the tracks of two other men!" came the reply, in paul's most impressive manner. "oh! then the thief wasn't alone; he has friends up here!" ejaculated jack. "that's a point i'm not decided on," paul went on. "these tracks were not made at the same time as his. they always cut across the long footprint, marked by the patch on the shoe. that told me they were _following_ the thief. then i figured out that, as it was impossible to do this in the night, they must have come across his trail early this morning, and taken it up." "h'm! that sounds as if they might want to meet the thief. then they can't be very dear friends of his, paul!" exclaimed jack. "my idea is that they want to find the man who made those footprints. just as soon as they discovered his tracks they started following him. and that was so close to our camp they must have smelled the bacon frying, and the coffee." paul had evidently been thinking seriously over the matter, and had arrived at some conclusion. "i guess they didn't want to see us very bad. look here, paul, do you think the man who drove along in that rig is one of these two men?" demanded jack, suddenly. "now you're getting close to what i mapped out myself," smiled paul. "perhaps ted and his crowd had an ugly experience with those men?" suggested jack, following up his train of thought. "i can't imagine what else could have given them such a scare," returned the patrol leader. "when they came in sight they looked rattled for keeps. i noticed too, that ted seemed to hold his left arm half dangling at his side, as if it had been hurt." "well, anyhow, if they've scared the slavin crowd out of this region we'll have to take off our lids to the unknown gentlemen," laughed his chum. the balance of that day passed off pleasantly. many things occupied the attention of the campers; and all the while they were learning more about the secrets which a bountiful nature hides in her solitudes away from the haunts of men. "thank goodness," declared nuthin, as he rubbed his side with considerable feeling, "no more of that guard duty up on the side of the mountain after this. since ted and his bad lot have skipped out, there's no need of expecting a shower of rocks at any time during the night. i'll sleep like a brick to-night, boys, you bet!" "but all the same we'll keep guard, and don't you forget it, nuthin," declared william, who chanced to overhear the remark; "because you see, the same thief who grabbed our fine ham might take a notion to get his fingers on more grub, and first thing you know we'd have to cut and run for town just like those fellows on wheels did, starved out." "yes," interposed bobolink, as he joined the group, and lowered his voice mysteriously; "i just heard paul and mr. gordon talking about two more men that seem to be wandering at large up here. that makes three, you see, and none of 'em care to step into our dandy camp in the daytime. boys, don't you see what an ugly look that has?" the three scouts exchanged glances, and nodded their heads. like all boys they loved a touch of excitement, and the fact that there was a mystery hanging about rattlesnake mountain just pleased them. "now, what d'ye think these prowlers might be?" asked nuthin, in awed tones. "huh! why d'ye suppose men'd hang out in such a place as this, and shun their fellows, if they ain't been doin' something against the law?" demanded william, with lofty scorn. "my! then you mean they're escaped convicts, or something like that?" gasped the deeply absorbed nuthin, his eyes round with wonder, and perhaps a touch of fear. "i wouldn't be surprised," replied william, indifferently, as became a valiant scout; "and it's my opinion that the feller who passed us in that rig when we were resting on the road that day, looked like _he_ was a bad egg. if ever i saw what my dad calls a hang-dog look on a man's face, he was all to the good. i hope i don't meet the same when i'm doing my lone stunt through the woods, that's all." joe clausin had been hovering near while they talked in this way. at first he had shown just the natural curiosity a boy might under the circumstances; but as william began to declare his belief in the rascality of the lone traveler, his face turned rosy red, and then pale. he walked quickly away, perhaps afraid that one of his companions might notice his confusion. a guard was set that night as usual, and their supply of food was placed in such a position that none of it might be stolen by any clever method of using a fishhook and line. again morning came without any alarm. the scouts by this time had begun to hope that their troubles were over. during the day they penetrated further into the wilderness of rocks and trees that surrounded them, and mr. gordon was kept busy explaining the innumerable matters that caught the attention of the eager lads in every quarter. the weather had grown much warmer. indeed, several of the boys complained of the heat; and as clouds covered the heavens at nightfall, the scoutmaster warned them to be prepared for a storm before morning. once more tent pins were examined, and everything made as secure as possible. at the same time paul surveyed the black sky with secret misgivings, wondering what they would have to do should a tornado sweep down upon them there on the side of the mountains, and demolish their tents. the scouts turned in earlier than usual that night, for mr. gordon thought it well to get what sleep they could. he went the rounds last of all, to make sure the provisions could not be wholly ruined by water, no matter what befell. by nine o'clock the camp was wrapped in silence, even the fire dying out. the moan of the wind through the pines further up the mountain helped to sing most of the scouts to sleep. two hours later the guard was changed; and again silence fell upon the scene. it must have been midnight and past when paul was awakened by what he thought was the rush and roar of a railroad train. alarmed he sat up to listen. chapter xxviii the great storm "oh! listen to that, will you!" came a loud voice from a nearby tent, as one of the other sleepers, aroused by the racket, started up in wild alarm. shrill cries arose in every quarter. not a single scout now but who was wide-awake, and endeavoring to pull on his clothes in haste. that former experience had at least taught them a lesson; and much confusion was avoided at the start. already were the tents wabbling furiously. some of the more timid boys kept calling the name of mr. gordon, just as if the scoutmaster, however willing, could be of any avail against the aroused forces of nature. "wow! look at that, will you!" shouted nuthin, as the tent under which he and his three companions cowered, threatened to sail away before the increasing gale. the storm was no ordinary one. paul knew something of the signs, and even his stout heart quailed a bit as he heard the terrible sound of trees crashing to the earth somewhere near by. perhaps this was to be a duplicate of the hurricane that had toppled over so many of the big forest monarchs years before! already were the boys outside, hanging on to the tents for dear life, regardless of the fact that they were being slowly but surely drenched. "we can't seem to beat it out!" gasped william, almost out of breath with his tremendous exertions. "she's going to carry off, fellows!" shrieked another scout. "don't anybody let go yet!" commanded paul; equal to the occasion. he darted into the wildly agitated tent, and with all his strength tore the central pole from its hold. the tent instantly collapsed, amid the howls of the upset boys, who really thought it was tearing away from their grasp. "now pile some rocks on top!" ordered paul, as he crept out from under. they seemed to grasp his idea, and immediately set about carrying it out. in this way the wind could not get at the tent; and the consequence was, that later on it would be found safely held under the press. paul darted to the next tent, where another lot of scared boys were holding on for dear life; while the thundering of the storm beat in their ears, and almost demoralized the entire troop. it was his intention to assist them in the same way he had his immediate chums; but just as he reached the spot there arose a combined shout. "look out! there she goes!" with a ripping sound the tent was torn from the grasp of the four scouts, and went sailing off into the pitchy darkness. paul could only hope that it might become fast in some friendly tree, and be found again when daylight arrived. not satisfied with stopping there he darted to the next bunch who were apparently still able to hold to their canvas. they did not know what he meant to do, and when the tent suddenly collapsed loud were their cries of distress. but paul was quickly among them, shouting orders in their ears similar to those he had given in the other case. so he kept on. a third and a fourth tent he treated in the same way, and by now many of the scouts began themselves to grapple with the solution of the problem, so that he was able to call upon these for assistance. when he made for the big round top that covered the provisions paul was agreeably surprised to find that it was already down, and snugly gripped by half a dozen heavy stones, at the corners and elsewhere. from this he knew that mr. gordon, who had spoken to him about this relief measure in case of sore necessity, must have been there. all these things took place in really less time than it requires to tell them. perhaps it seemed hours to some of the alarmed boys; but only a few minutes had actually passed between the arousing of the camp, and the final scene where the last tent was thrown down and secured. so far as paul knew only two had blown away. considering the fearful violence of the wind that howled along the plateau, crossing the lake, and throwing the water high in the air, this was doing very well indeed. and what a sight the camp presented when that moment arrived! paul could hardly keep from laughing at the picture that he saw when the lightning flashed; even though his heart was still beating like a trip-hammer with excitement. it certainly looked as though a cyclone had struck camp surprise. ruin and desolation surrounded them on all sides. trees had been blown down in many instances, and everywhere were signs of a tempest such as none of these lads had even known in all their lives. paul managed to find the scoutmaster after a bit. "looks like a bad job, sir!" he shouted in mr. gordon's ear. "it certainly does, paul," came the reply, also in a loud tone; "but bad as this seems i'm afraid from the signs that we'll get even worse before morning!" "what ought we do then?" asked paul, his anxiety aroused once more by these words. "we ought to get out of this as soon as we can. those trees up there look as if they might fall down on us any time," replied mr. gordon quickly. "but where can we go, sir," cried paul. "i've heard lots of trees go over, down the side of the mountain. besides, there's no shelter there for us." "we will have to make our way along the side of the mountain up here," answered mr. gordon, "and trust to luck to run across one of those caves you were speaking about. shelter we must find as soon as possible. it would be hard on some of the boys to remain exposed to this wind and pouring rain all the night." "shall i try to get them together, sir?" asked the patrol leader. "yes, round them up near the mess tent, paul." they separated, and began to grope around, for it was fearfully dark, save when a flash of lightning came to show the terrors surrounding them. paul, as soon as he came upon a cowering figure, shouted the directions of the scoutmaster in his ear, and then went on. he was himself more awed than he would care to admit by the nature of this awful storm. nothing in all his limited experience had ever approached it in violence. "oh! that lucky slavin crowd, to get home before this came along!" shouted envious william, when paul came upon him trying to crawl under a rock that offered a little shelter from the fury of the blast. when he could find no more boys to summon, paul himself made his way toward the fallen mess tent. here he found about a score of excited boys clustered, trying to bolster up each others' spirits by making out that they were not a bit afraid. "are all here?" mr. gordon first of all demanded, in such a way that every fellow was able to hear what he said. paul started to count, pulling each scout behind him. a flash from above was of considerable assistance to him in carrying out his plan. "not one missing but nuthin, sir!" he announced, presently. "who saw him last?" demanded mr. gordon. "i did, sir," replied one of the scouts, promptly; "he was hangin' on to our tent when it blew away into the air!" "oh! then he must have been carried up into the tree, for the tent stuck there," announced another voice, with a thrill of horror in it. "come and show me which tree; paul, i may want your help. the rest of you stay right here, and don't move under any circumstances," and so saying mr. gordon caught the boy who "knew" by the shoulder, and dragged him along. paul staggered after them. the wind was very strong, and it was impossible to walk in places without bending down almost to the earth. besides, there seemed to be many branches torn from the trees flying through the air, so that it was perilous to life and limb to be abroad. but the scoutmaster was one who could command, and he forced the tentmate of the missing nuthin to find the spot where the canvas had stood at the time it was torn out of their hands. "that's the tree, sir!" cried the boy, trying to point in the darkness. "i can see something white up in the branches, sir; it must be the tent!" paul himself shouted just then. they made their way forward, and the lightning, happening just then to dart in zigzag lines across the inky heavens as if to assist them, they saw that sure enough the missing tent was caught in the tree, about fifteen feet from the ground. "can you see anything of him, paul?" called mr. gordon, as the three of them cowered under the tree, that was bending and groaning before the blast. "i didn't that time, sir; but wait for another flash; perhaps we'll have better luck," replied the patrol leader, eagerly. it was a long time coming. paul could feel the other scout shivering furiously as his hand touched him, probably more through fright than excessive cold; though the experience of being soaked to the skin was far from comforting. then came a dazzling flood of electric light that almost blinded them. "there he is, sir, hanging onto the tent! i think he must be twisted up in one of the ropes. shall i go up and find out?" called paul. "i think you'll have to, my boy," answered the scoutmaster; and if ever he felt pride in one of his troop it must have been then, when paul, forgetting what chances there were of that tree falling, offered to climb into the branches, in order to rescue a comrade in peril. without losing a second the patrol leader sought the lowest limb, and drew himself up. he could feel the trunk of the bending tree straining as it was twisted by the violence of each terrible blast; but undaunted by this impending calamity paul's only desire was to reach the side of poor nuthin before worse things happened to him than being carried away with the balloon-like tent. chapter xxix a panic-stricken crowd "oh! help! help!" the cry reached paul's ears between blasts of the howling wind; but he never could have caught it had he not been so close to the wretched boy who gave utterance to the appeal. with every nerve strained to the utmost, the young patrol leader continued to climb upward. he could see the tent flattened out like a great pancake against the branches of the tree. it had opened as it swept along, and the force of the gale had for the time being turned it into a sort of balloon. this accounted for the carrying away of nuthin, who was a slender lad at best. paul found more or less difficulty in reaching a point where he could come in contact with his comrade. branches were in the way, and swayed back and forth in a furious fashion as fresh gusts of wind caught them. "i'm coming, albert; hold out a little!" paul shouted as he strained; and it was perhaps strange that in such a period of excitement he unconsciously used the real name of cypher, something few people save his parents and teachers did, when a. cypher stood so handsomely for nuthin. one more desperate effort, and paul, by stretching out his hand, found he could touch the other. doubtless the contact sent a thrill of hope through the hanging scout. "how are you caught?" paul called, as he managed to force himself still nearer by hanging on to the branches with his other hand, and twisting both legs around the same. "i think a piece of rope is wrapped around my body. anyway it hurts like fun, and my arms seem all numb," he heard nuthin reply. this sort of an explanation just fitted in with what paul had conjectured. he had found it hard to believe that nuthin would be so frightened as to cling desperately to the flying tent, when he knew that it was being carried off by the gale. he must have been an involuntary passenger of the airship that quickly ended its short flight in a neighboring tree. fortunately paul had his stout pocket knife with him. he never went without it; and furthermore, it was his habit to keep all of the blades very sharp. if a knife is going to be worth a grain of salt it should be sharp. many a fellow has realized this with dismay when some situation has confronted him calling for a keen blade, and has found his knife almost worthless to solve the difficulty. perhaps had he been asked later just how he managed to get that knife out of his pocket, and the largest blade opened, paul might have some trouble in telling. the first thing he knew, he was again pushing himself inch by inch closer to the boy who was hung up in the tree, and feeling for the rope that held nuthin fast. when, after a little, he had found it, paul prepared to press the edge of his knife against the same. "oh! please hurry, paul; i'm awfully afraid the tree will go down!" he heard nuthin cry. but paul had another problem to face. if he cut suddenly there would be nothing to support the other, and nuthin might have an ugly fall through small branches that would scratch his face still more than it had been already cut. "can you feel anything under your feet?" he asked, almost in the other's ear. "yes, i've been standing on a small limb; but sometimes i slip off when that wind swings the tree so. i'm deathly sick, paul, and dizzy. but one of my hands is loose now. tell me what to do, please," came back instantly, as loud as nuthin could speak. "that's good," declared paul. "feel around just above you. can't you get hold of a branch or two, and hang on when i cut the rope? i want to keep you from falling when the support goes." "why, yes, i've got hold of one, paul," answered nuthin, who seemed to catch a trifle of the other's coolness; "and my feet are on the one below, now." paul dared not wait another second. he pressed the blade against the rope, and with a determined movement severed the strands. then, dropping his handy knife, he immediately threw his arm around the body of nuthin. possibly the other might have managed to keep from falling; but still he was in a state of panic, and his muscles were weakened by their recent confinement. "it's all right!" paul shouted, when nuthin gave utterance to a shriek: "i've got you safe! now, try to work your way over here. take it easy, and you'll make it, never fear." and nuthin did. by degrees he seemed to gather courage, and was able to help himself. in times of stress there is nothing like confidence. it carries nearly everything before it, and brings victory where otherwise defeat must have won the day. presently nuthin had reached the body of the tree, and was descending. there was really no need to urge him to haste, for he could not get down to the ground a second too soon to satisfy his anxiety. they found the others awaiting them below, and mr. gordon caught nuthin in his arms as if to express delight at his almost marvelous escape. what if no one had noticed the absence of albert, and they had hurried away from the ruined camp, leaving him fast in the tree? he would have been in for a terrible experience, and in the end it might have resulted seriously for the boy. "are you badly injured, albert?" asked the instructor, as he drew the other on toward the point where the balance of the disrupted troop crouched, trying to get out of the way of those furious bursts of wind. "pretty sore, sir, but nothing serious, i reckon," came the reassuring answer, which proved that nuthin did, after all, possess a fair amount of pluck. when they arrived in the vicinity of the spot where the mess tent had stood, the rest of the troop greeted their coming with a faint cheer. it takes a good deal to utterly discourage a bunch of healthy boys; and while things looked pretty bleak, still they made out to consider the adventure in the light of a joke. no one wished his companions to know just how badly frightened he really was. "now we must get out of this," said mr. gordon, "and as we make our way along, try and keep together as much as you can. pair off, and hold on, each to his mate. ready?" in this manner, leaving dobbin, the horse to his fate, they deserted the late joyous camp, now lying a seeming wreck. yet things were not as bad as they might have been, thanks to their wisdom in cutting down the tents before more of them blew away. the crash of falling trees could still be heard with every renewed furious blast. but just as mr. gordon had said, these sounds proceeded almost wholly from the lower region. that was the reason he declined to seek safety in that quarter, preferring to push in the teeth of the blow, because the rocky shelters were to be found there. they made but slow progress, but as time passed on they managed to gain some distance from the open space of the late camp, where the little hurricane had so free a sweep. as yet they had not been successful in discovering any sort of a refuge worthy of the name. the rocks were piled up all around them, and they had to do a great deal of clambering over obstacles in order to get along; but so far as a cave went none had been found. mr. gordon knew that some of his charges must be perilously near the point of exhaustion. all the boys were not as robust and hardy as paul and several others. he was becoming genuinely alarmed concerning them, knowing that unless shelter were quickly found they would be apt to fall. "we must change our tactics," he called out, finally; "and instead of going on in a trailing line, spread out and cover more ground. if any one finds a cave let him give the scout's shout of discovery!" after that they advanced more slowly, since it was really every one for himself. paul saw that the scoutmaster must have been right when he declared that they had not yet experienced the worst of the terrible summer storm. it seemed to be getting slowly but surely more violent, and he wondered what amount of damage it would carry along the farms of the bushkill, and the various towns and villages bordering its banks. stumbling blindly at times, it was no wonder the boys had many a tumble. hands were bruised and scratched, yet in the excitement little attention was paid to such trifling things. several times paul fancied that one of his mates had called out, and hope began to surge afresh through his heart. in every case, however, it proved to be a mistake, since no succeeding calls announced the glad fact that shelter had been discovered. he was forced to believe that the sounds he heard were only new exultant shrieks of the wind, as it swept along the side of old rattlesnake mountain. jack was close at the side of his chum, and when the darkness prevented them from actually seeing each other, they frequently caught hands, so that they might not be separated. whenever a little lull came in the storm the cheery voice of the scoutmaster was heard, encouraging his followers to hold out "just a little longer." in this time of gloom mr. gordon endeared himself to the hearts of those soaked boys as he had never before done while the sun was shining, and all seemed well. paul realized that they were now plodding along over ground that was totally unfamiliar to him. it gave him new hope that shortly one of the extended line might discover what they sought. and it was just when he was bolstering up his courage in this fashion that he heard a sudden sharp cry from his chum. the lightning flashed out at that second and paul looked eagerly toward the spot where he knew jack had been but a brief interval before. to his astonishment his chum had utterly disappeared from view, as though the rocks had opened and swallowed him! chapter xxx the underground refuge "jack! oh! jack!" called the patrol leader, filled with dismay over the mysterious disappearance of his best friend. "hello! paul!" that was surely jack answering him, but where could he be? the sound seemed to come from underground, which fact gave paul a suspicion regarding the truth. "where are you?" he shouted, as he flattened himself out close to the ground. "down in a hole! look out, or you'll come in too. tell mr. gordon i've found a cave!" came back to his ears. so, after all, it was paul who sent forth the signal agreed on, announcing the welcome fact that a refuge had been discovered. the rest of the boys came crawling to the spot by twos, eager and curious. "take care!" paul cried out, as he heard them arriving on either side, "jack fell down a hole right about here. we must find where it is, or else some more of us may follow suit!" paul believed that his chum could not have been seriously injured by his sudden and unexpected descent. had this been the case he would not have called quite so cheerily as he did. searching in the quarter where he last remembered seeing jack, he presently discovered that the trailing vines hid the mouth of a cave. it was not more than four feet across, but would answer their purpose, no doubt. and even as he looked he saw a match flame out below, and caught sight of jack on his knees, peering eagerly upward. luckily he, as well as every other scout, had learned to always carry matches in a waterproof case while in camp, since there could be no telling when they might need such valuable little articles. paul quickly found a way to clamber down the side of the opening, and join his chum. "well, this is something like," he observed, relieved to find that he could now speak without shouting, as the sound of the gale was deadened underground. "were you hurt by that tumble, jack?" "oh! not worth mentioning," replied the one addressed, as he rubbed his knee, and then struck another match, so that the others might see how to get down. some were fortunate enough to make the descent safely. a few came sprawling, and sat there rubbing their bruises and grunting. presently mr. gordon, counting noses, announced that the entire troop had been safely housed. wallace being one of the first to arrive, had busied himself looking around while the balance of his comrades were making the descent. finding some bits of dry wood handy he started a little blaze. this served two purposes, for while it dissipated the dense darkness that surrounded them, at the same time it seemed to give the drenched and shivering lads a trifle of new courage. "see if you can find more wood, fellows," wallace observed, knowing that if thus employed the scouts were less apt to grow despondent over their discouraging condition. as the boy scouts began to feel more comfortable, their spirits commenced to go upward again, just as the mercury in a thermometer rises with the coming of heat. "we're a lucky lot, i tell you, fellows, to stumble on such a fine snug hole in the nick of time!" declared tom betts, as he rubbed his hands together, before giving his place in the front rank to another scout less favored, and still shivering. some of the scouts were so utterly exhausted that presently, when they began to feel more comfortable, as their clothes dried in a measure, they gave evidence of drowsiness. mr. gordon made these fellows lie down in a heap, and try to sleep. they would secure a certain degree of warmth by contact with their mates. but there were others of just a contrary mind, who had never been more wideawake in their lives than just then. sleep was the last thing they thought about. "i wonder where this cave leads to?" remarked bobolink, after more than an hour had elapsed. paul was interested, of course. anything that bordered on mystery at all, always had a peculiar fascination for him. and jack was pretty much of the same mind. "if we could only get a few torches together," the former observed in answer to bobolink's remark, "i'd just like to take a little trip around, and see what lies back there. some of us have gone fifty feet and more, looking for more wood; and there was no back wall to the place. perhaps it might have another entrance; and i'd just like to know whether any other fellows ever did camp in here. if we found the ashes of a fire we'd know for certain." "let's go!" suggested bobolink, ready for any lark. "but how about the torches?" continued the cautious jack; "i wouldn't like to get lost in such a twisting hole in the ground. that might turn out to be worse than lying out there in the storm." "oh! we can get enough wood to keep us going," replied bobolink; "and besides, it seems to be lying all along the passage, as if some feller had dropped pieces every time he went in with a load. come on, say yes, paul." "all right, then," said the patrol leader, ready to give way to argument; "but we must be careful. i've got a scheme boys, to keep from getting lost in this place." "tell us how, then!" demanded both the others; and joe clausin, who had been hovering near by, came closer to catch what was being said. "i've got a piece of red chalk in my pocket; and we can mark the way as we go," paul continued; "and when we get tired of prowling around so that we want to come back here, all we have to do is to follow the red marks of the arrows." "that's what i call a bully scheme, paul. now come along," cried bobolink. "count me in too, fellows," said a voice just then. "why, hello! joe, is that you?" exclaimed paul, turning to look into the eager face of the clausin boy. "why sure, if you want to go along, and feel able to keep on your feet. start up one of your torches, bobolink; and every one keep his eyes on the lookout for more tinder as we go along." paul could not help noticing that joe had an unusually eager look on his face at the time he asked to accompany them. he could read between the lines, and guessed what was in the other's mind. perhaps joe allowed himself to imagine, or even hope, that luck might enable them to run across the man who had passed up into this region, and who looked so like some one he believed must be at the other side of the world. paul took the lead as the four boys moved away. mr. gordon looked after them; but having the utmost confidence in the young patrol leader, he did not ask them what their intentions were. and none of them imagined they would be gone any great length of time. presently they had passed the line that marked the boundary of any former search for fuel. and paul noticed as he walked on, holding the rude torch above his head, that the winding passage seemed to be constantly getting larger. this gave him the idea that they must have fallen into one of its extreme branches; and that perhaps, after all, their exploration might reveal wonders of which none of them had so much as dreamed. chapter xxxi the boy scouts as explorers "oh! shucks! there she goes again!" exclaimed bobolink, when the torch suddenly whiffed out, to leave them in the dark. bobolink sometimes carried the light when the splinter of wood paul had held burned to its finish. he was not as careful as he might be, and consequently twice already had they been compelled to stop and use a precious match in order to renew the illumination. "you want to be more careful, bobolink," remarked paul, as he applied a match to the still smouldering torch his companion carried. "i was trying to keep from trouble," grumbled the one who had been at fault; "but something just seemed to snuff it out. did anybody hear a sound like a dog growling right then?" "oh! my, what do you mean, bobolink?" asked joe; "you're just trying to scare us, and you know it. 'taint fair either. i felt a draught of air, and that was what puffed your light out. there ain't any wild animals in here, are there, paul?" "i don't think so," replied paul, smiling at joe's alarm; "because you can nearly always smell the den of a fox or a wildcat. now, what are you staring at, bobolink?" "look there, what d'ye call that, fellows?" demanded the torchbearer, pointing ahead to where the little light just managed to win out against the gloom. "been a fire in here, that's sure," observed jack, eagerly advancing. in another minute all of them were bending over a flattened heap of ashes, undoubtedly the remains of some fire made by unknown people who had occupied the cave. "wonder whether they were tramps, or thieves?" bobolink was saying. "perhaps neither," remarked paul, who was looking closely about him, with the intention of allowing nothing of moment to escape his gaze. "huh! then you think perhaps that ted slavin and his crowd might have made this fire; is that it, paul?" asked bobolink, quite satisfied to have another do his thinking for him. "well, hardly, because these ashes have been here a long time, perhaps several years, for all we know," remarked paul. "go back a little further, paul, and say the mound builders left 'em," chuckled the doubting bobolink, who always had to be shown. "look for yourselves. you know what fresh ashes are like. these have settled down a long time. if it was outdoors now, the rains would have washed them away; but sheltered in this cave they've just blown about by the current of air. and see here why i know no boy sat beside this fire," and while speaking paul walked over to pick up several things his quick eye had discovered. "an old shoe, and a big one at that!" said jack, nodding his head, as if agreeing with his chum's version. "and a tomato can with the top cut away," broke in bobolink, as he looked, "and a stick in the hole of the cover. say, paul, i guess you're right, because i've seen tramps heating coffee in that style. it wasn't ted and his crowd after all; and i guess the old mound builders didn't have tomato cans to use." "or coffee to put in them," laughed paul, turning the can upside down, and allowing some dark grains to fall on his palm; at which bobolink sniffed, and then threw up both hands as though giving in. "shall we go on further?" asked paul. "i'm ready to leave it to the rest." "sure," declared jack, without hesitation. "count me in on that, paul," came from joe, stoutly. "i'm all to the good," remarked bobolink; "because, you see, we want to know what sort of a joint we've got here; and if there's any front door to the same. we just sort of fell in at the back entrance; which i take it was hardly the proper thing for decent fellers to do. skidoo, paul; we're on your track!" for some little time after that they found nothing of interest. the passage kept winding in and out, in a way that was "some confusing," as bobolink said. and since there were other passages branching off the main stem paul thought it wise to bring his red chalk into play. accordingly, he marked an arrow that always pointed along the right channel, and was calculated to lead them back to where the balance of the troop was quartered. "that's a cinch!" was the way bobolink greeted this action; and indeed it seemed that no one could possibly miss the route with such a guide at hand. but they had forgotten that light was absolutely necessary in order to tell the way these arrows pointed. pretty soon jack awoke to the fact that they no longer seemed able to pick up small pieces of wood which could be used as torches. "and our supply has nearly run out, too," he added, holding up only one more piece. "that looks serious," said paul; "and perhaps after all our smartness we're going to get lost in the dark. how many matches in the crowd?" a hasty search revealed the act that all told they could only muster nine; for they had been using quite a number. "that isn't much to count on, if we have to depend on them till we get back to where we can find wood again," remarked paul, thoughtfully. "what shall we do, boys?" "i'm willing to leave it to you," replied jack; who suspected that his chum had an idea of some sort, which he was ready to spring on them. both the others agreed with jack; for they knew that paul was better able to grapple with such an emergency than either of them claimed to be. and besides, it is so nice to have another fellow do all the thinking at such times. "then listen," said the patrol leader; "the fact that we can feel a draught of air plainly here tells me there must be another opening to the cave not very far off. if that is the case perhaps we could reach it easier than go back over all the ground we've covered. what say, fellows?" every boy declared himself in favor of pushing on into the unknown region that lay before, rather than to take chances trying to retrace their steps. perhaps the spirit of adventure lured them on more or less, for it appeals to almost every lad with red blood in his veins. "that settles it, then; and we'd better get off at once," remarked paul, satisfied that it was all for the best. the last torch was speedily used. then they crept along in the dark for a time, after which one of the matches was struck very carefully, in order that they might see their surroundings. "wow!" exclaimed bobolink as he found himself looking into what seemed to be a very deep and black hole; "wasn't it lucky we got the glim going when we did? i guess i'd dropped into that pit if we'd held off any longer. my good little angel must have warned me to light up." after that they were even more careful. none of them felt like taking a header into such a gulf, since a fall might break limbs, or do even worse. "that was my last match!" announced bobolink, after a while. "i've got just one more," said jack, dolefully. paul had another, and joe was completely out. still there did not seem to be any end to the passage; and paul, for the first time, began to suspect that they had made a serious mistake in deciding to go ahead, instead of retreating. "i'm just getting played out, and that's no yarn," announced bobolink, who had been limping for some little time, and grunting, as he would himself have said, "to beat the band." "suppose then, you three wait here for me," proposed paul; "i'll make my way along further, and try to find out if there is any hope of finding an opening. i promise to keep one hand on the wall here, so i can get back again." they were loth to have him go; but joe was almost "all in" too, and jack thought he ought to stay with the cripples. so paul crawled away, with but one match in his possession, and feeling in anything but a cheerful mood, although he would not discourage his chums by saying a word that would add to the gloom. he moved cautiously as he advanced, remembering how ugly that pit had looked when bobolink struck his match; and not wishing to find himself tumbling into such a sink. just how long he was creeping along in this way after leaving his chums paul hardly knew, but he must have covered quite some distance. and thus far the current of air did not seem to warrant a belief that an opening was very close by. he was feeling discouraged, and on the point of giving it up as a bad job when he tripped over some object that, of course, he had not seen in the pitch dark. in trying to save himself from falling he upset something that made quite a clatter as it struck the rocks; when to paul's amazement he heard a voice call out: "who's that?" and accompanying the words came the scratching of a match. chapter xxxii the tin box again paul stared, and well he might; as the match flamed up he found himself confronting a man who had evidently been sleeping on the floor of the cavern, for he had just thrown a blanket aside. and paul recognized him instantly as the party who had passed them on that noon, in the rig which he imagined must have been stolen--the man he had reason to believe joe suspected to be connected with the robbery of his father. feeling that he would be apt to receive a hostile reception here, paul turned to run. he hoped that, as the match went out, the other would not know just where to look for him, and thus he might escape. but to his surprise, as he turned he found that another man faced him, who must have been located at a point he had passed while creeping along close to the wall. before paul could dodge, this fellow had clasped his arms about him. the other was hastily lighting some sort of lantern, with which he seemed to be provided. although paul struggled sturdily he was hardly a match for a full grown man. "keep still, you!" the fellow growled in his ear; "or i'll give yer somethin' you won't like. bring the light here, hank. let's see what sort o' a critter we've bagged, anyhow." of course they knew the instant they saw paul's suit of khaki, discolored even though it was from the rain and dirt. "huh! another o' them boy scouts you was tellin' me about, eh, hank?" grumbled the man who held paul in his embrace. "what under the sun d'ye suppose he's doin' in here? come to look us up, d'ye s'pose, pardner?" paul had already seen that the second fellow was even worse looking than the man named hank, which he took to be a corruption of henry. in fact, if ever there was a tramp who might be sentenced on his looks alone, this fellow could fill the bill. "i don't know," remarked hank, slowly, and scowling at paul; "it doesn't hardly seem possible, though if i thought so, i'd be tempted to choke the young cub. look here, what brought you up here, and who are you?" "yes," roared the second man, shaking paul vigorously, "pipe up and tell us that, 'less you want us to do somethin' you wouldn't like. what d'ye want with us? how'd you ever git in here; and who's along with you? say, hank, didn't i tell you i seen that chief of police down on the road that comes up here from tatum? i bet he sneaked around, thinkin' we'd try to cut out that way, 'stead of in the direction of stanhope. reckon you don't ever wanter go there agin, eh?" "shut up, pim!" snapped the taller man, cutting the other short, much to paul's regret; for somehow he just felt that the conversation was reaching an interesting point, and that if the tramp kept on he might have mentioned something worth while. thinking that he had better be frank with his captors paul started in to tell of the terrible storm, and the destruction of the camp, followed by the flight of the banner boy scouts along the mountainside in search of a safe refuge in the shape of a cave. when he told of how they had found such a place through mere accident the two men exchanged looks as though they believed paul were inventing his yarn as he went along. "what you say may be true, and again perhaps it ain't," declared the tall man called hank; "and i reckon we'll just have to tie you neck and crop, so's to keep you from going back, and bringing a bunch of your tribe down on us. we're in possession here, and we don't want any more unwelcome guests. pim, get a cord, and do him up!" "oh! please don't. what i told you was the truth, every word. i only wanted to find out if there was another opening to this cave. don't make me a prisoner, mister! please let me go!" paul shouted these words, and for a purpose. he wished to let his friends know of his predicament, believing that jack would lead a rescue party instantly; and when three boys start to shouting in such a confined space as a cavern they can make enough racket to cause one to believe a whole army is coming. the two men were still struggling with their prisoner, and using more or less violence in forcing their wishes upon him, when there broke out a sudden series of whoops that rang through the place. half a dozen wildcats engaged in a mix-up could hardly have created more of a racket than did those three lads as they hurried toward the spot where the lighted lantern showed them their chum in the hands of two hard looking customers. hank took the alarm immediately. he seemed to be more timid than his companion, who showed signs of being willing to turn and face the advancing enemy until he noted that he had been left in the lurch. then, growling, and showing signs of temper, he waddled after hank, who bore the lantern. "paul!" called jack, as they drew near. "here!" came the answer; and then the last match that jack possessed was sacrificed in order that he might find his chum. the first thing that paul noticed was another lantern on the floor of the cavern. "here, light this, jack, with that precious match!" he cried, after shaking the lantern to find out whether it contained any oil. "what under the sun does it all mean?" gasped the breathless bobolink. joe seemed to be just as anxious as either of the others to know, although he did not say a single word. "i happened on two men who were sleeping here," said paul. "notice the blankets and the things for cooking, will you? they must have had a hold-out here. perhaps they chased ted and his crowd out of the cave, because, if you look, you can see that aluminum frying pan ward kenwood used to carry around with him, and which he must have forgotten in his hurry to leave." "did you know them, paul?" asked jack. paul turned so that he could watch joe while he replied. "i never saw the fellow called pim before. he was a tough customer, too; either a regular tramp or a yeggman; and i guess from his looks he must have been ready for any game, from robbing a bank to stealing a farmer's chickens." "how about the other?" jack kept on. "well," said paul, slowly, "you remember the man who drove past when we were at the side of the road that day, and whose wheel marks we saw all the way up here? that was the fellow. i had a good look at him. his companion called him hank!" "oh! my, then it is really true!" ejaculated joe clausin, apparently taken quite off his guard by this declaration on the part of the patrol leader. paul turned upon him then and there, and looked serious. "joe," he said, firmly yet kindly, "once you refused to tell me what you knew or suspected about this man. i hope you won't try to bluff us off again, now that you know he's here, and everything looks as if he might be the one who took your father's valuable papers." as he spoke paul stooped and picked something up that had attracted his eye. it had been lying among quite a quantity of clothing and other things. probably these had been secured in various raids on clotheslines, where the good people of the farming community were airing winter garments before putting them away in camphor in the chest. "look here, joe, what do you call this?" paul went on. joe could hardly speak, he was so excited. "it's the tin box that my dad used to keep those papers in! oh! paul look inside and see if they're there!" he exclaimed, trembling with eagerness as he laid a hand on the arm of the patrol leader. but paul believed that his friend was doomed to disappointment, even before he opened the strange little tin box, which had been stolen from the store of the feed keeper in stanhope. "it's empty, you see, joe," he said, turning it upside-down. "look at it again, so as to make sure it's really the box." "oh! i'd know it anywhere, paul," declared joe, warmly; "and see, here's where father scratched his initials on it. i remember seeing him do that one day, while he was talking to me. yes, this is the box. but where can the papers be?" "in the pocket of that fellow, beyond a doubt. who is he, joe?" when paul put the question straight to him, joe could hold out no longer. besides, a wild hope had probably sprung up in his heart to the effect that this comrade, whom nothing seemed to daunt, might perhaps be able in some wonderful way to help him get the papers back again. "i just guess i'll have to speak up, fellows," he said; "but please don't say anything to the others 'less my dad tells you to. you see, we've always held our heads up in stanhope, and some people might look down on us if they knew one of the clausin family was a convict!" "oh! that is the man who was at the other side of the world. what relation is he to you, joe, and where was he in prison?" asked jack. "he's my uncle henry," answered joe, reluctantly, "a younger brother of my dad's. last we heard from him he was nabbed away out in australia, for doing some bank sneaking, i think. anyhow, he was sent to prison. father told us not to mention his name again; and we never have all the time we've lived in stanhope." "oh! well," advised paul, "i wouldn't feel so bad about it, joe. i suppose he's changed his name now. so that if he gets into a scrape in this country nobody need know he belongs to the clausin family. but joe, how did he know about the value of the papers your father kept in that tin box?" "well, i can tell you that, paul. i've often thought it over; and the only thing that strikes me is this. uncle henry, being in this country after escaping from prison, was coming to see his brother, perhaps to ask him for help. he may have happened in just when dad fainted, with one of his attacks; and found the tin box on the floor. perhaps he did strike dad on the head. no matter, he examined what was in that box, and must have counted it valuable, for he grabbed the whole thing, and lit out for the mountain till the chase blew over. now you know as much as i do. but don't i hope we c'n get them papers back again." chapter xxxiii what paul found--conclusion "what if those men should come back again, and take us prisoners?" suggested bobolink, anxiously. "oh! i don't think they'll do that," replied paul. "but it might pay us to look around, and see what they have here." with the lantern to give them light, the boy scouts began an examination of the piles of material which the tramp called pim, and his companion had accumulated in their snug retreat. food was found, also some bottles of liquor, which latter paul took great pleasure in immediately smashing. "say, look what i've found!" called bobolink. it was a dangerous looking revolver, of the short-nosed, bulldog pattern. perhaps it belonged to pim, for it lay close to where he had been sleeping. and while he did not exactly like the looks of it, paul felt that they would be safer from attack while they had possession of this weapon. "here's a bottle of kerosene for the lanterns!" announced joe, presently; he had been searching feverishly around, possibly in hopes of finding the papers; though paul felt sure they were snugly reposing in the pocket of hank at that moment, wherever he might be. it was finally decided to stay there for the balance of the night. they could of course have gone back, now that they possessed means for lighting their way; but somehow paul did not feel anxious to leave the spot. paul remembered what pim had said about having seen chief billings on the road between rattlesnake mountain and the village of tatum. could it be possible that mr. morris, the lawyer friend of joe's father, had influenced that official to start out in search of the papers? had mr. clausin found something on the floor of his feed store that told him his wicked brother must have been there? these were things which gave paul much concern as he lay there resting, and making good use of one of the blankets that had been found. he did not mean to sleep at all, for the responsibility of the entire little expedition rested on his shoulders, and he could not take chances. lying thus, paul tried to go over all that had happened since the camp lights went out at the sound of taps. step by steps he advanced until the thrilling moment came when he made that stumble, and immediately heard the voice of hank calling out to ask who it was. he could see just as plainly as though he were living the whole thing over again, how the man sat up, having thrown his blanket from him. why, it was the very blanket that paul had over and under him now, and which felt so comfortable. then, with the match showing hank a strange boy so close at hand, he had jumped to his feet. paul could see him, as he lay there in the darkness; even to the soiled white shirt he wore. "oh!" if hank had been minus his coat at the time he jumped to his feet, he certainly had found no time to snatch it up when he ran away in such haste at the coming of the others. why, possibly this was the very coat which paul had doubled up, to serve him as a rude pillow. investigation revealed the fact that it _was_ a coat. and when he pawed it over to find the inside pocket, he was thrilled to hear the unmistakable rustle of papers somewhere! yes, wonderful as it might seem, there was a good-sized bunch of folded documents in the pocket. could these be the lost papers that had been the cause of so much distress to mr. clausin? even while paul was thinking whether or not he should wait until morning to mention his discovery to the anxious joe, because he did not wish to arouse any false hopes, he thought he heard a slight sound near by. what if hank were returning to search for his coat, remembering how he had left it so carelessly when he fled, and what things of value it held? paul was glad now that he had that revolver. he might not like to make use of it; but believed it would prove very valuable as a gentle persuader. they had found a box of matches among other stores the two men had collected in this retreat; so that there was now no scarcity of such things. something touched him on the arm and sent a quiver through his frame, for he was worked up to a point where he felt as though he could just shout. then he heard the lowest kind of a whisper close to his ear. "paul!" it was of course his chum, who must also have been awake, and heard the same suspicious sound that came to his ears. paul drew jack's head close to his lips as he whispered: "i think it is hank, coming back for his coat. i've been sleeping on it, and just discovered that there are papers in the pocket!" "oh, what can we do?" asked jack, also in that low tone, inaudible five feet away. "get a match ready, jack," said paul, once more in his chum's ear; "and when i nudge you, light the lantern as fast as you can." "all ready!" came back, a short time later. paul waited until he fancied that the unseen prowler must be groping in the dark very close to them. then he thrust his elbow into jack's side, causing him to grunt. but at the same instant a match flamed up, for jack had been ready. "don't you dare move a foot!" called out paul, instantly covering a crouching figure with the weapon he had in his hand. snap! down went the lantern globe, and the cavern was brightly illuminated. it was hank clausin, just as paul had suspected, and in his shirt sleeves too. he had come back for his coat, and walked into a trap. the other three boys were now on their feet, and acting under paul's directions they tied the man's hands. poor joe did not take any part in this ceremony. his heart was too sore, though he also rejoiced because paul told him he had the precious papers on his person. hank pretended to be indignant at first, and claimed that he had done nothing wrong. then he changed his tactics, and threatened the boys. finding that this had no effect he turned to joe, and pleaded with him. but joe only shook his head, after looking beseechingly at paul, and turned away. none of the party obtained any more sleep that night, for they feared that the other man might return to see what had happened to hank. and so all of them sat around, talking in low tones, with the lantern burning, paul keeping the pistol in evidence. of course they could only tell when morning came by paul's watch. both bobolink and joe declared they were fully rested by then, and so the return march was taken up. perhaps paul was a little reckless, or it may have been he did not care very much. but it was suddenly discovered that the prisoner was gone! paul did not say anything, but he could guess that joe, for the honor of the family, had taken advantage of their being a little ahead, to set him free. "and boys," joe said later, when confessing what he had done, "please don't tell anybody that he was my uncle. just say he was a bad man, and that he got away. you see, we've got dad's papers, and that is all he wanted. i hope i never meet uncle henry again." and he never has to this day, for hank and his evil companion, pim, made haste to leave that vicinity, which was growing a bit too warm for their operations. mr. gordon was loud in his praises when he heard the story, though even he was not taken into joe's secret. he declared that the storm had passed over, leaving a track of ruin in its wake, and that they could now leave the cave to return to camp surprise. this the banner boy scouts did that morning. after all, the damage to their belongings did not turn out to be very serious, thanks to their ready wit in cutting down the tents; and before nightfall they were almost as comfortably fixed as before the blow. joe wanted to go home because of the papers; but who should turn up while they were eating supper but his father, accompanied by mr. norris and chief billings, proving that the hobo had not made a mistake when he said he felt sure he had seen the latter on the way to the mountain by another route. of course there was great rejoicing when mr. clausin found his papers returned. joe took him aside and doubtless told him the full particulars; for the gentleman looked very grave, and when he returned, he went around, silently squeezing the hands of paul, jack and bobolink. they knew he was thanking them for their promise not to say a word about his brother even to their home folks. with the neighborhood clear of all troublesome characters, it can easily be understood that the stanhope troop of boy scouts began really to enjoy their outing. each day saw new pleasures and competitions. boys who were backward in any of the various branches of work connected with the useful things a true scout should know, were tutored by mr. gordon, or in many cases by paul and wallace. bad cooks were taught how to succeed by simple processes; and the secrets of the wilderness became as an open book to those who wanted to learn. old dobbin had managed to survive the storm, and when the troop started on the homeward route he pulled the wagon that carried their tents and other things. needless to say, that as it was pretty much all down-hill, and the tremendous amount of food had vanished, the ancient horse found the going much easier than on his previous trip. so successful had their first tour proven that the stanhope boy scouts began to talk of other outings which might be arranged later on; and which will be treated of in the next volume of this series, to be called "the banner boy scouts afloat; or, the secret of cedar island." after all their adventures none of them came back feeling any the worse for the experience, and most of the boys declared they had had the time of their lives. to this day they have never really learned just what it was frightened ted and his cronies out of the neighborhood. still, the fact that pim and hank had possession of ward's fine aluminum frying pan caused paul to believe the boys must have run across the two men, and been chased away. before the camp was finally broken up paul discovered an old hunchback trying to steal more of the food. he was caught in the act, and it only needed a look at the patch on the sole of his boot to tell that he was the guilty one who had carried off their ham. he proved to be the fellow the boys had heard about, who made a living catching rattlesnakes; but as these were now scarce he was in poor circumstances. paul forgave him, and when camp life came to an end they left him all the food that remained, proving their right to the name of boy scouts. the end * * * * * * transcriber's note: several typographical errors in the original edition have been corrected. the following paragraphs are as they originally appeared, with corrections noted in brackets. chapter iv ["]'hold on. don't forget you are a scout, and that you've got to look for the good that is in every fellow, they say," laughed his companion. chapter vi "oh! no, it isn't that bad a case," laughed paul, amused. "we ought to be able to handle things without going to such extremes. besides, you know, i carried a number of those stout sticks into the gym the other day, and william amused himself fastening a lot of cloth around them, so that they look like the stuffed club we used in the ministrel [minstrel] show last winter. william is just itching to use one on some poor wretch. perhaps he might get the chance to-night. so-long, jack." "i'm afraid so," returned his comrade, slowly; "and just as like as not they expect to give us trouble while we're in camp. well," and his voice took on a vein of determination that told how he was aroused at the thought of what might happen; ["]there must be a limit to even the forbearance of a scout, you know; and if they push us too far, we will have to teach them a lesson!" "where's bobolink?" demanded the leader,[.] according [accordingly] he now took a little piece of wood out of his pocket, also a steel nail, and with the latter tapped several times upon the bit of veneering. immediately they saw the sitting boy begin to fumble, as thought [though] he might be getting something out of his pocket. then came an answering series of staccato taps, soft yet clear. "i'm your candy!'["] came the reply, as the figure stood up at attention. chapter vii "what's the matter in there? why don't you open up?["] called ted, again rapping his knuckles on the wooden barrier. bud jones was in the most terrible predicament of his whole life. beset by innumerable fierce foes as he believed within, there was that big bully outside, only waiting for a chance to give him a thrashing he would never forget. and the mysterious voice that sounded exactly like his own, startled him; for, not being a friend of bobolink's he probably never heard him give those strange imitations when making his voice appear to come from some other preson [person]. chapter xi paul pushed to the front just them [then]. chapter xiii "two ought to be enough. yes, bring a glim along; we may need it, for that moon isn't very bright to-night, and the trees make considearble [considerable] shadow." chapter xv "he's gone, ted!" whooped a voice; but it was not that of monkey egleston [eggleston]; for that worthy was hardly in possession of enough breath to more than whisper. chapter xvii "sure i would, paul. please dont [don't] think i'm not wantin' to trust you, because i hold back. i want to think it all over by myself to-night. perhaps in the mornin' i might tell you about it." chapter xx "that," said paul, "is one of our beliefs, sure enough. a scout must always be on the alert, or else he may miss many things that would give him valuable information. william, suppose you go on and spin your yarn in your own way. i saw what you did; but i'm glad i didn't cut in. strike up, now, and then we'll move on again, for dobbin is coming yonder.["] chapter xxii "say, that is mighty funny, "observed [funny," observed] jack, after he had listened to the whole story. chapter xxiv "oh! rats!" exposulated [expostulated] his fellow scout. "come off your perch, jack, and talk sense. you make me think of an old polly, just able to repeat things over and over. but to see us all down on our knees staring at that trail made me remember the alarm of poor old robinson crusoe when he found the footprint of the cannibal on his island." chapter xxvii "yes," interposed bobolink, as he joined the group, and lowered his voice mysteriously; ["]i just heard paul and mr. gordon talking about two more men that seem to be wandering at large up here. that makes three, you see, and none of 'em care to step into our dandy camp in the daytime. boys, don't you see what an ugly look that has?" chapter xxviii paul staggered after them. the wind was very strong, and it was impossible to walk in places without bending down almost to the earth. besides, there seemed to be many braches [branches] torn from the trees flying through the air, so that it was perilous to life and limb to be abroad. chapter xxix this sort of an explanation just fitted in with what paul had conjectured. he had found it hard to believe that nuthin would be so frightened as to cling deperately [desperately] to the flying tent, when he knew that it was being carried off by the gale. he must have been an involuntary passenger of the airship that quickly ended its short flight in a neighboring tree. "that's good," declared paul." "feel [paul. "feel] around just above you. can't you get hold of a branch or two, and hang on when i cut the rope? i want to keep you from falling when the support goes." the crash of falling trese [trees] could still be heard with every renewed furious blast. but just as mr. gordon had said, these sounds proceeded almost wholly from the lower region. that was the reason he declined to seek safety in that quarter, prefering [preferring] to push in the teeth of the blow, because the rocky shelters were to be found there. chapter xxxi "who's that?["] and accompanying the words came the scratching of a match. chapter xxxii "yes," roared the second man, shaking paul vigorously, "pipe up and tell us that, 'less you want us to do somethin' you wouldn't like. what d'ye want with us? how'd you ever git in here; and who's along with you? say, hank, didn't i tell you i seen that chief of police down on the road that comes up here from tatum? i bet he sneaked around, thinkin' we'd try to cut out that way, 'stead of in the direction of stanhope. reckon you don't ever wanter go there agin, eh?'["] "here, light this, jack, with that precious match!'["] he cried, after shaking the lantern to find out whether it contained any oil. rod of the lone patrol by h. a. cody author of "if any man sin," "the chief of the ranges," "the long patrol," "the frontiersman," etc., etc. "_a boy's will is the wind's will, and the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts._" --longfellow. mcclelland and stewart publishers ------ toronto copyright, , george h. doran company made in u. s. a. to my three little boys douglas, kenneth and norman, who are anxious to become boy scouts, this book is affectionately dedicated contents chapter i. a waif of the night ii. giving and receiving iii. the widow's visit iv. rodney develops v. captain josh takes a hand vi. a new friend vii. chums viii. the chums to the rescue ix. whyn x. his first "good turn" xi. miss arabella's "affair" xii. scout work xiii. the visit xiv. unexpected assistance xv. in the city xvi. whyn decides xvii. anna royanna xviii. the way of the heart xix. the surprise xx. the island adventure xxi. the rounding up xxii. a new adventure xxiii. first aid xxiv. the prodigal son xxv. drift-logs xxvi. the best "good-turn" xxvii. jimmy xxviii. excitement at the anchorage xxix. the troops decide xxx. the night run xxxi. better than a fairy tale rod of the lone patrol chapter i a waif of the night parson dan chuckled several times as he sipped his hot cocoa before the fire. it was an open fire, and the flames licked around an old dry root which had been brought with other driftwood up from the shore. this brightly-lighted room was a pleasing contrast to the roughness of the night outside, for a strong late october wind was careening over the land. it swirled about the snug hillcrest rectory, rattling any window which happened to be a little loose, and drawing the forked-tongued flames writhing up the large commodious chimney. when the third chuckle had been emitted, mrs. royal laid aside the paper she had been reading and looked somewhat curiously at her husband. "the missionary meeting must have been very amusing to-night, daniel," she remarked. "it is too bad that i didn't go." "oh, no, it wasn't the meeting which was amusing," was the reply. "but i must say it was the best one i ever attended. that missionary had a great story to tell and he told it well. there was a good attendance, too, especially for such a cold night. but you can't guess, my dear, who was there." "the bishop?" "no, no," and the parson rubbed his hands in glee and gave another boyish chuckle. "give it up, eh?" and his eyes sparkled as he turned them upon his wife's puzzled face. "yes." "i thought so. you could never guess, for you would never think of captain josh." "no, surely not, daniel!" and mrs. royal, now all attention, drew her chair a little closer to the fire. "what in the world took him there to-night? i never knew him to go to church, let alone to a missionary meeting." "oh, that is easily explained, dear. his only son, you know, is in the yukon, and he was anxious to hear about that country. he was certainly the most interested person there, and after the meeting was over, he walked right up to mr. dicer and asked him if he had met his son." "and had he?" mrs. royal inquired. "yes; knew him well. now, the way those two men did talk would have done your heart good. to think of captain josh chatting with a missionary, when for years he has been so much down on missions and missionaries. that is one on the old captain, and i shall not forget it when i see him again, ho, ho," and parson dan leaned back in his comfortable chair and fairly shook with merriment. "i hope that his interest will keep up," was mrs. royal's comment, as she picked up the paper she had laid aside. "perhaps he will learn that missionaries are of some use in the world after all." "i am afraid not, martha," the parson returned, as he reached for his pipe and tobacco lying on a little stand by his side. "it is only his son which made him interested to-night, and that is as far as it goes." "it might be the beginning, though, daniel, who can tell? i always liked jimmy. he and alec got on so well together. do you know what day this is?" "ay, ay, martha," and the clergyman's face grew grave, and a slight mistiness dimmed his eyes. "i haven't forgotten it." "he would have been twenty-five to-day, daniel." "i know it, and it seems only yesterday that i went for old doctor paddock. it was a night something like this, and i was so afraid that we would not get back in time." the fire danced cheerily before them, and the clock on the mantel ticked steadily as the two sat for some time in silence, gazing thoughtfully upon the blazing sticks. "i dreamed last night that i saw him," mrs. royal at length remarked. "he was a baby, and had on his little white dress. he looked up into my face and smiled, just like he used to do. i gave a cry of joy and put out my arms to take him. at that i awoke, and he disappeared. oh, daniel, we didn't value him enough when we had him--and now he's gone." "and do you remember, martha, what plans we made for his future? our hopes have been sadly shattered." "we have only his memory with us now, daniel," was the quiet reply. "i always think of him as a baby, or as a strong manly boy coming home from school. but for that precious recollection i hardly know how i could bear up at all." scarcely had she finished speaking, when a faint knock sounded upon the front door. they both started and listened attentively, thinking that perhaps it was only the wind. but when the knock was repeated, parson dan rose quickly to his feet, crossed the room and entered the outer hall. as he unlocked and opened the front door, a shaving of cold wind whipped into the room, while the inky night rose suddenly before him like a great perpendicular wall. for a few seconds he could see nothing, but as his eyes became accustomed to the blackness, he beheld a dim form standing before him. then a large bundle was thrust suddenly into his arms, and the figure disappeared. he thought he heard a sob borne on the night air as he stood in the door-way clutching the burden imposed upon him. but perhaps it was only the wailing of the wind he heard. he was too dazed to be sure of himself as he stood there peering forth into the night, expecting some one to enter, or at least to speak and explain the meaning of this strange behaviour. but none of these things happened, so, still bewildered, he closed the door with his foot and made his way back into the living-room. "daniel, daniel! what are you standing there in the draught for?" his wife remonstrated. "you will get your death of cold." she ceased abruptly, however, when she saw her husband enter with the strange bundle in his arms. "what is it?" she gasped, rising quickly to her feet. "don't know," was the reply. "it's alive, anyway, whatever it is, for it's beginning to wriggle. here, take it." but mrs. royal shrank back, and raised her hands as if to protect herself. "it won't hurt you, dear. what are you afraid of?" "but it's alive, you say. it might not be safe to have it in the house. where did it come from?" before a reply could be given, the bundle gave a vigorous twist, while a muffled squeal came from beneath the clothes, which almost caused the parson to drop his burden upon the floor. but that sound stirred mrs. royal to immediate action. no longer did she hesitate, but stepping forward relieved her husband of his charge. "it is a baby!" she cried, at the same time drawing aside the shawl and exposing the chubby face of a child nestling within. a pair of bright blue eyes looked up into hers, and a queer little chuckle of delight came from the small rose-bud of a mouth. so pleased was it to have its face uncovered, that it performed the rest of the job itself, and by means of a few strenuous kicks disengaged its feet from their covering and stuck them straight up into the air. "bless its little heart!" was mrs. royal's motherly comment. "it is going to make itself at home, anyway." seating herself before the fire, she laid aside the shawl and straightened out the baby's mussed garments. they were clothes of the plainest, but spotlessly clean. parson dan stood watching his wife with much interest. this little waif of the night appealed to him in a remarkable manner. "who do you suppose left it here?" he at last asked. "it is no child of this parish, i feel quite sure of that." "perhaps it was an angel who did it," mrs. royal replied. "it may be that the good lord has taken compassion upon our loneliness since we lost alec and has given us this in his stead." "no, i cannot believe that, martha. i do not for a moment doubt that such a thing is possible, oh, no. but that old shawl and those plain clothes do not look much like heavenly robes, do they? i think that the hands which made that little white dress were human hands such as ours, and the sob which i heard to-night was not the sob of an angel but of a heart-broken mother." "well, she is the angel, then, whoever she is," mrs. royal insisted, "and perhaps she will come for the baby to-morrow." "oh, do you think so, martha?" and there was a note of anxiety in the parson's voice. "how nice it would be to keep it." "why do you say 'it,' daniel? why don't you say 'her'?" "i never knew before that it was a 'her,'" and the parson chuckled as he stroked his clean-shaven chin with the fingers of his right hand. "you didn't?" and his wife looked her surprise. "why, any one who has the least knowledge of babies can tell a boy from a girl at the first glance. there is always a marked difference in the way they behave." "ah, is that so, dear?" "certainly. a boy as a rule is cranky when he wakes. but do you notice how good natured this baby is? and how she lies so quietly in my lap, looking wonderingly into the fire? and notice how delicately she is formed; how perfect her face; how slight her neck, and how tiny her arms and hands. oh, it is always easy for a woman to tell which is which." "what shall we call her, martha?" and parson dan drew up his chair and sat down. "i have been thinking of that, daniel, but have not decided yet. i always liked deborah; it is such a good strong name." "it is a good old name, anyway," was the somewhat reluctant assent. "but she is sure to get 'debbie,' or 'deb,' which i dislike very much." "oh, that all depends upon what a child is called at home, daniel. if we begin at once to call her deborah, people will do the same." "very well, martha, if you wish to call her deborah, i have no objection. but----" here the parson paused, leaned over and picked up a small piece of white paper lying upon the floor. he glanced carelessly at it at first, but as he read the words written thereon his eyes opened wide. he looked at his wife, who was intently watching the baby, and an amused expression broke over his face. then came the inevitable chuckle. "what is it now, daniel?" his wife questioned. "that is the fourth time you've chuckled already to-night. it seems to take very little to amuse you." "suppose the baby isn't a girl after all, dear?" the parson replied, ignoring his wife's sarcastic remark. "not a girl! what do you mean?" "suppose she should be a boy, after all?" "the idea is ridiculous, daniel. don't you suppose i know a girl from a boy?" "very well, then, read that," and the clergyman handed her the slip of paper. "please take care of rodney. i will come for him some day. the lord will reward you even if i can't. "his mother." as mrs. royal read this brief note, a peculiar expression overspread her face. she uttered no word, but her head drooped lower over the baby and she remained very still. her husband at once realising how she felt, laid his hand upon hers. "there, there, dear," he soothed. "i didn't mean to make you feel badly. it was only a little mistake after all, and i am really glad it is a boy, for if will make us think that we have alec with us again." mrs. royal looked up and brushed away a tear. at that instant the baby gave a vigorous kick, accompanied by a peculiar gurgle of delight, at which the two attendants laughed heartily. "that's right, little man," and the parson nodded his head approvingly. "you're pleased, too, are you, to know that we've found out that you are a boy? you didn't want to be called deborah, debbie, or deb, did you? rodney suits you better, eh? how do you like the name, martha?" "very well, indeed," and mrs. royal gave a sigh of relief. "it removes quite a load from my mind. but, there," she added, "i must put him to bed. it isn't good for a baby to be up so late. come, rodney," and she lifted the little one in her arms, "kiss your----" "grandad," the parson assisted as his wife paused. "we shall teach him to call me that, eh? it will be better than 'daddy.'" "you look after him, daniel, while i make his bed ready. don't let him fall. there, that's good," and mrs. royal stepped back to view the baby lying in her husband's arms. lighting a candle which was standing on tin mantel over the fire-place, she went upstairs and stopped before a door on the left of the hall-way this she opened and softly entered. the room was small, but neat and cosy. every piece of furniture was in its proper place, and the bed looked as if it had been recently made. the walls were adorned with various articles, from a number of shelves, filled with books for boys, to snow-shoes, fishing-rods, a rifle, and college colours. it had been several years since any one had slept in that room, but not a day had passed during that period that mrs. royal had not entered and sat for a while in the big easy chair by the side of the bed. everything was there just as alec had left it, though a few things had been added since. one of these was a crib which had been his. this was standing in a corner of the room with the little pillow and white spread in perfect order. for a few moments mrs. royal stood looking down upon the small cot associated with such sweet memories. then she placed the candle upon a small table and set earnestly to work. first she removed the clothes and mattress and carried the crib into her own room across the hall. going back for the clothes, she carried them downstairs, and spread them upon the backs of several chairs for them to warm before the fire. parson dan watched her intently, but made no comment. he fully realised how risky it was to speak just then. he knew how much it meant for his wife to disturb that little cot and make it ready for a strange child. neither did he wish to say anything, for he himself was deeply stirred as memories of other days rushed upon him. when at last rodney was carefully covered and sound asleep in the crib upstairs, they both stood looking down upon his sweet round face. "poor little waif," mrs. royal remarked. "he is somebody's child, and perhaps his mother is longing for him at this very moment." "there is no doubt about it," her husband replied. "that sob which i heard to-night is still ringing in my ears, and i know it was the sob of a heart-broken mother." chapter ii giving and receiving the baby awoke bright and early the next morning, in fact too early for mr. and mrs. royal. the former, especially, enjoyed the hour from six to seven, when, as he once said, he obtained his "beauty sleep." but the little stranger of the night was no respecter of persons. he lifted up his voice at the unnatural hour of five, and by means of a series of gurgles, whoops, and complaints, drove all sleep from drowsy eyes. he was not in the least abashed in the presence of strangers, but standing in his crib, he rattled the side, and yelled shouts of baby defiance at the other occupants of the room. "i didn't know that he could stand alone," the parson remarked as he first saw rodney scramble to his feet. "how old do you suppose he is?" "about fourteen months, i should judge, daniel," his wife replied. "he may be older, though. one can't always tell." "he's a stirring lad, anyway, martha, and we shall have our hands full. won't you need some help, dear? how would it do to get a woman in occasionally to assist with the work, as the baby will take so much of your time?" "that will not be necessary, daniel. by the look of things now we shall be up earlier each morning, and one hour then is worth two later in the day." after the parson had lighted the fire in the cooking-stove, and also the one in the living-room, he went to the barn to milk. he kept one jersey cow which supplied enough milk for the house. this was a fine animal, and the pride of the neighbourhood, as it had taken the first prize at the large exhibition held that very fall in the city. the rectory was situated upon land known as "the glebe," about fifty acres in extent, which had been granted to the church by the crown in loyalist days. about one-third of this was under cultivation, producing hay and oats for the horse and cow, as well as all the vegetables needed for the table. several acres were given up to pasturage, while the remainder was wooded. the royals were, therefore, most comfortably situated, and quite independent. a small orchard provided them with apples, the taste of which was well known to every person in the parish, especially the children, for parson dan seldom started forth without his pockets filled with russets, pippins, or fameuse. mrs. royal had her hens, and no eggs seemed as large and fresh as the ones she often sent to some sick or aged person, in the parish. while mrs. royal was looking after the baby, the parson fed his horse, "sweepstakes," and milked "brindle," the cow. he then turned the latter loose, and drove her down the lane to the feeding-ground beyond. "there is a stray cow out in the pasture," the clergyman informed his wife as he sipped his coffee. "whose is it?" was the somewhat absent-minded reply, for mrs. royal's attention was upon rodney, who was creeping gaily about the floor, examining every nook, and making himself perfectly at home. "i don't know whose it is," the parson retorted, a little nettled at his wife's question. "i can tell you about every man, woman, and child in this parish; i know all the horses and dogs, and can give you their pedigrees. but i draw a line at cows, pigs, hens, and cats. i am fond enough of them, but there is a limit to the things i can remember. i forget too much as it is. and, by the way, that reminds me that i must go to hazlewood to-day. joe bradley told me last night that his mother is ill, and wishes to see me. he came all the way to the meeting on purpose to tell me, and to think that i nearly forgot all about it! it was that young rascal, though, who did it," and the parson turned his eyes upon the baby. "do you think that you can make out alone with him, martha? i fear that i shall be away all day, as there are several other calls i must make at hazlewood." "oh, i shall make out all right," was the reply. "but there are several things you might bring me from the store on your way home. i will make out a list for you, as you would be sure to forget them." it was almost dusk when parson dan returned from his long journey, tired and hungry. "how is the boy?" he asked as he entered the house, after having stabled sweepstakes. "he's as good as gold, daniel," mrs. royal replied. "but i am worried about brindle. she hasn't come in yet, and i cannot see her anywhere in the pasture." "she's with that strange cow, no doubt, martha, and i shall go after her at once. it will be too dark if i wait until supper is over." parson dan was absent for about an hour, and it was dark when he returned to the rectory. he looked disappointed. "brindle is gone," was the news he imparted to his wife. "i found where the fence was broken down. that strange cow must have done it, for i never knew brindle to do such a thing. i wonder how that cow got in there, anyway. it is a complete mystery to me. i tried to follow the cows through the woods, but it got so dark that i was forced to give up the search. i must be off early in the morning or there will be no milk for the wee lad's breakfast." "and none for our coffee, daniel," was his wife's reminder. "milk will be a very poor substitute for cream, but it will be better than nothing." "that's quite true, martha. it's been a long time since we've been without milk or cream in the house. but we can stand it better than the baby. poor little chap, he must not starve, even if we have to borrow some from our neighbours. i hope rodney has not tired you too much to-day, dear. it has been years since you had the care of a baby." "it has been a great joy, daniel, to have the laddie with me. he slept several hours, and when he woke he was so good and full of fun. at times i imagined he was alec playing on the floor with his blocks. he was very sweet when i put him to bed to-night. he never misses his mother. how soon a baby forgets." "but i venture to say that his mother hasn't forgotten him," and the parson's face grew serious as he recalled that sob of the night before. "i have been thinking of her all through the day, and wondering who she is, and why she left her baby at our door." "and so have i, daniel. i had the idea that she would return, and several times i started at the least noise, expecting to see her at the door." "i do not wish to deprive the mother of her baby," the parson thoughtfully mused, "but how i should like to keep him! he seems to belong to us. in fact, he has made himself perfectly at home already." parson dan was astir unusually early the next morning. he stood before the rectory looking up and down the road, uncertain which course to take in search of the missing brindle. "let me see," he considered, "that fence is down on the upper side, and most likely those cows have made their way up the road. i guess i had better hunt there first." as he stood there his eyes roamed over the scene before him. the rectory was situated upon a gentle elevation, surrounded by tall, graceful elms, and large branching maples. below the road was the parish church, standing where it had stood for almost one hundred years, amid its setting of elms, maples, and oaks. nearby was the cemetery, where the numerous shafts of marble and granite could be plainly seen from the road. to the right and left were pretty cottages, for the most part closed, as they belonged to people from the city, who, like the swallows, having spent their summer in this beautiful spot, had flitted at the approach of winter. beyond stretched the st. john river, one of the finest sheets of water in the province, or even in eastern canada. this morning it appeared like a magic mirror, with not a breath of wind ruffling its placid surface. parson dan's heart filled with pride and peace as he gazed upon the entrancing scene. seldom had it looked so beautiful, and he believed that the early morning hour had much to do with its attractiveness. "glorious, glorious!" he murmured, "and so few abroad to see it. how the spirit of peace is brooding over river and land! marvellous are thy works, o lord, and thy mercies are renewed every morning." he was aroused from his meditation by the sound of foot-steps upon the road. glancing quickly around, he saw a tall, powerfully-built man approaching, carrying in his right hand a large stick, which he brought down upon the ground with a resounding thump. his clothes were rough; a heavy pair of boots encased his feet, while an old soft felt hat covered a head crowned with a wealth of iron-grey hair. he seemed like a veritable patriarch of ancient hebrew days, and this likeness was intensified by his aquiline nose, keen eagle-like eyes, and a long beard sweeping his expansive chest. a smile lightened his face as he approached. "good mornin', parson," was his cheery greeting. "ye're abroad early." "oh, good morning, captain," was the hearty reply. "we seem to be the only persons astir, eh?" "more's the pity, parson. don't see the like of that every day," and the captain waved his stick through the air. "fine sight, that." "it certainly is," the clergyman assented, "and how few are abroad to see it. but say, captain, you haven't seen anything of my cow, have you?" "ho, ho, that's a sudden jump, isn't it, parson?" "a sudden what?" "a sudden jump from the sublime to the ridiculous; from a scene like that to a cow." "not when you have no milk or cream, captain. brindle has broken out of the pasture, and i have no idea where she can be." "did ye pray this mornin' that ye might find her, parson?" "no, i can't say that i did," was the somewhat reluctant reply, for parson dan was well accustomed to captain josh's thrusts. "ah, that's too bad. the missionary said night before last that we must pray if we expect to receive, didn't he?" "yes, captain, he did." "and he told us more'n that, parson. he said that we couldn't expect to receive unless we gave." "yes, he said that also." "and by jingo, he was right, too," and the captain brought his stick down upon the road with a bang. "i've tried it, and it has turned out just as the missionary said it would." "you have!" and the clergyman looked his astonishment. "i am so glad, captain, to know that you have come to view things in a different light. i was pleased to see you at the missionary meeting, and i am so thankful that you were benefited by what you heard. won't you tell me how you proved mr. dicer's words to be true?" "would ye like to know, parson?" and a sly twinkle shone in the captain's eyes as he asked the question. "certainly. go ahead." "and ye won't feel hurt?" "feel hurt! why should i?" "well, ye see, it concerns yer cow, and no matter how a man might feel about the welfare of others, when it comes to himself and his own personal property, it makes a great difference." "i do not understand your meaning, captain," and the clergyman's voice had a note of sharpness. "what has the missionary meeting to do with my cow?" "considerable, parson, considerable. when i went home from that meetin', sez i to my wife, 'betsey, i have learned a new wrinkle to-night, which may be of much use to us.' she asked me what i meant, so i up and told her what the missionary had said about givin' and receivin'. he laid it down very plain that unless a man gave to the lord's work, he couldn't expect to prosper. now, didn't he?" "that's what he said," and the clergyman nodded his assent. "well, then, sez i to betsey, 'betsey, we've never prospered, because we've never given anything.' "'but what have we to give?' sez she. "'nothin' much,' sez i, 'except our old cow bess.' "'oh, we can't give her,' sez she. 'we'll have no milk if we do.' "'but we'll get more in return,' sez i. 'the missionary said so, and i want to prove his words.' well, the long and short of it is, that i took bess early the next mornin' and turned her into your pasture afore you were up. betsey was lookin' pretty glum when i got back home, but i told her to cheer up, fer the lord would prosper us as we had given him our cow." "captain josh britt!" the parson exclaimed. "i am astonished at you! how could you think of doing such a thing?" "why, what's wrong with that?" and the captain tried to look surprised. "isn't it scriptural? i thought by givin' bess to you, i was givin' her to the church, and in that way she could be used fer the lord's work." "oh, i see," and the clergyman stroked his chin in a thoughtful manner. "yes, and i tell ye it succeeded like a charm," the captain continued. "i gave up bess, and, lo and behold, she came back last sight bringin' another cow with her." "my cow, eh?" the parson queried. "sure. but didn't it prove the missionary's words to be true: 'give, and ye'll receive more in return?' we gave up our only cow and now we have two." parson dan made no immediate reply, for he was too deeply grieved to speak. his faint hope that a change had come over captain josh was now dispelled. for years he had mocked at church-going, and all things connected with religion. and so this was but another of his many tricks. but he must not let this scoffer off without a word of rebuke. "captain josh," and the parson's voice was stern, "when you put your cow into my pasture you knew that she would come back, didn't you?" "why, what makes ye think so, parson?" "didn't you know that she would break down almost any fence?" "yes, i suppose i did." "and that she would naturally take my cow with her?" as the captain did not answer, the parson continued. "you did it merely to make a scoff at religion, and have a joke to tell at the store for others to laugh at. oh, i know your tricks well enough. i have striven to live peaceably with all men, but you have sorely tried me on various occasions. whatever good i have done in this parish, you have endeavoured to undo it by your scoffs and actions. i often wonder why you do such things to oppose me." into the captain's face came an expression of surprise mingled with anger. he had never heard the clergyman speak to him so plainly before, and he resented it. "you have had your say, parson, and i have the cow," he retorted, "so we are quits. come and take her out of my yard if ye dare." "i don't intend to try, captain. if you wish to injure your own soul by stealing brindle you may do so. i can get another, only it will be hard on the little chap not to get his milk. i see it is no use for us to continue this conversation any further," and the clergyman turned to go. "hold on, parson," the captain cried, as he took a quick step forward. "d'ye mean the wee lad which was left at yer door t'other night?" "why, yes," the clergyman replied, in surprise, as he turned around. "how did you hear about him?" "h'm, ye can't keep anything in this place a secret fer twenty-four hours. trust the women to find out, especially about a baby, ha, ha!" "well, what of it?" and the parson looked keenly into the captain's eyes. "ob, nothin', except that if the wee chap has to go without his milk because i have brindle, it makes all the difference in the world, see?" "and you will let me have the cow without any fuss?" "sure. i'll bring her right over, and milk her fer ye, too. and, see here, parson, i didn't mean to offend ye. i know that i am a queer cranky cuss, but i never meant to keep brindle. i only wanted to have a little fun, that's all. you've gone up a peg in my estimation since i heard that ye'd taken in that poor little waif. shake on it, and let bygones be bygones." so there in the middle of the road on this peaceful morning, the two neighbours clasped hands, and as parson dan walked slowly back to his house there was a sweet peace in his heart, and his eyes were a little misty as he opened the door. chapter iii the widow's visit parson dan spent most of the day in visiting his people in the parish, and accordingly had little time to give to rodney. but after supper he began to romp with the wee man much to mrs. royal's amusement. there was considerable excitement for a while as the clergyman, on all-fours, carried the baby through the kitchen, into the dining-room, and back again. the boy shivered with delight as he sat perched upon the broad back. forgotten were all parish cares as the venerable man gave himself up to the little waif. he had become a child again, and had entered that kingdom where children are the uncrowned monarchs, and the strong and the aged are willing subjects, yea, even most abject slaves. in the midst of this hilarious frolic, the door of the dining-room, leading into the hall, was suddenly opened, and a woman entered. she was dressed all in black which costume was well in keeping with her face, which bore the same expression it did the day she buried her husband two years before. her sober face grew a shade more sober as her eyes rested upon the undignified scene before her, and she was about to turn and hurry back out of doors, when the parson caught sight of her. his face, flushed with the excitement of the romp, took a deeper hue when he saw mrs. marden standing before him. he scrambled to his feet, and plunked rodney down upon the floor, much to that young gentleman's disgust. he at once set up a dismal howl, which took mrs. royal some time to silence when she had him alone in the kitchen. "i didn't see you, mrs. marden," the parson gasped, as he tried to recover his breath as well as his composure. "so i observe," was the somewhat sarcastic reply, as the visitor surveyed her rector. "i knocked long and loud, but as there was no response, i took the liberty to enter. i am sorry that i have intruded. perhaps i had better go." "no, no, you must not think of such a thing," the parson replied, as he handed her a chair, and then struggled quickly into his coat, which he had cast aside at the beginning of the frolic. he was annoyed at mrs. marden's intrusion into the privacy of his family life, especially when he was off guard. he knew that she had come on some important business, as she otherwise never darkened the rectory door. "you've become quite a family man, so i understand," she began. "it's the first time that i've seen the baby. i suppose you'll put him in the orphan home in the city." "no, i shall do nothing of the sort," was the emphatic reply. "he shall stay here until his mother comes for him." "h'm," and the widow tossed her head in a knowing manner, "then you'll have him on your hands for a long time. do you for a moment imagine that a mother who is heartless enough to leave her baby with total strangers, will come for him? not a bit of it. mark my word, she's only too glad to be rid of it, and is off somewhere now having a good time. i should be very careful, if i were you, about bringing up such a child. you can't tell who his parents are, and he may inherit all their bad qualities." the clergyman made no reply. he merely stroked his chin, and thought of the sob he had heard at the door that dark night. "such a child," mrs. marden continued, in her most doleful voice, "is sure to bring trouble upon you sooner or later. but, then, we all have our troubles, and must expect them. ever since poor abner was taken from me my life has been full of trials and tribulations. he was very good to me, and we were so happy." at this point the widow produced her handkerchief, and wiped away the tears which were flowing down her cheeks. parson dan knew, and all the neighbours knew, that if mrs. marden's life was "full of trials and tribulations" after her husband's death, mr. marden had more than his share of them before he died, due directly to his wife's incessant nagging. "yes, i have my troubles," and the widow resumed her tale of woe. "they never cease, for just as soon as one is removed another springs up." "why, what's wrong now?" the parson queried. "what! haven't you heard?" and the visitor looked sharply at the clergyman. "no, i can't say that i have, especially of late." "dear me, and it's the talk of the whole parish. but, then, i suppose you've been so taken up with this new addition to your family that you have had no time to give to the cares of the widow and the fatherless." a perceptible shade of annoyance passed over parson dan's face, and a sharp word of retort sprang to his lips. he repressed this, however, and answered as gently as possible. "you know, mrs. marden," he began, "that often i am the last person to hear what is being said throughout the parish. i try not to listen to all the gossip which takes place, as i have more important things to occupy my mind. so----" "and you don't consider my troubles important enough to listen to, eh?" mrs. marden interrupted. "well, i declare. i never heard the like of that, and you my clergyman, too." "let me explain, please," the parson continued. "as i said, i seldom listen to gossip, because so much of it is of such a frivolous nature. therefore, when anything of real importance is talked about, as a rule i do not hear that, either. in that way i have missed your story, mrs. marden. but when you come yourself to tell me, that makes all the difference, and i am ever ready to listen." while parson dan was thus enduring with considerable patience his wearisome visitor, rodney was creeping about the kitchen floor in a most lively manner. the dining-room door was ajar, and at last when mrs. royal's back was turned, he reached forth a small chubby hand, opened the door and entered. the parson saw him, but paid no attention to his movements. mrs. marden, however, who was sitting with her back to the door, was so occupied with her load of troubles that she neither saw nor heard the baby's entrance. on all-fours rodney glided behind the widow's chair. here against the wall stood a tall, slender cabinet, the lower shelves of which were filled with books, while above were various knick-knacks, all neatly arranged. it took rodney but a second to scramble to his feet, and balance himself by clutching firmly at the cabinet which was not fastened to the wall. then the inevitable happened. the cabinet at first trembled, and then began to fall. parson dan saw it coming, and with a cry he leaped to his feet, and caught it as it was about to crash upon mrs. marden's head. he could not, however, stop the knick-knacks, and so tea-cups, saucers, work-basket, a china dog, and numerous other articles were showered upon the widow, thus adding to her woes. with a startled cry mrs. marden sprang to her feet, certain that the ceiling had fallen upon her. hearing the confusion, mrs. royal rushed into the room, rescued rodney unhurt from the ruins, and carried him back into the kitchen. the clergyman at once turned his attention to his visitor. "i trust that you are not hurt," he remarked. "i am so sorry that this accident happened." "i'm not hurt," was the feeble response, "but i feel very faint," and the widow sank into a chair, and closed her eyes. "there, i feel better now," she continued, breathing heavily. "oh, what a shock that gave me! my troubles never cease. just think, i might have been killed if the good lord had not stopped that thing from falling." the clergyman repressed a smile as he well knew that the lord had nothing to do with it. he kept his thoughts to himself, however, and busied himself with picking up the various articles and broken fragments which strewed the floor. "what an awful baby he is," mrs. marden at length, exclaimed. "if he can do such a terrible thing now, what will he do when he grows up? it is not safe to have such a child in your house." "why, any child would have done the same," the parson replied. "he didn't mean any harm." "he didn't! why, what else did he mean, then? children should be taught to behave themselves. i never allowed a child of mine to climb up and pull things over. poor dear abner often said that i was the one woman in the whole parish who knew how to bring up children. but, there, i must go. my head is aching badly, and i know that i shall get no rest to-night. oh, what troubles we poor mortals are heir to in this mundane sphere." "you must not walk, mrs. marden," parson dan insisted. "i shall drive you home. it will take me only a few minutes to harness sweepstakes." "but i'm afraid it will be too much trouble," was the reply. "not at all, not at all, mrs. marden, i shall be only too glad to do it." in fact the rector was most anxious to get his visitor out of the house before she began to pour forth her tale of woe, which he believed she had forgotten. but in this he was doomed to disappointment. "just a minute, parson," the widow began. "i haven't told you yet the object of my visit here to-night." "doesn't your head trouble you too much to bother with it now?" the clergyman asked, trying to look as sympathetic as possible. "suppose you wait until you feel better." "no, i can't do that, for it might be too late. just think what might become of me and my poor fatherless children if i put it off until to-morrow." "oh, is it as serious as that, mrs. marden?" "indeed it is, and it is but another example of how the widow is oppressed. if poor abner was only alive! but now that he is gone, people think that they can do what they like with a lonely widow." "what, has any one been trying to injure you, mrs. marden?" "yes, that's just it. tom dunker is the one, and he's trying to get the lighthouse from me." "ah, so that's it?" and the parson gave a deep sigh. "yes. he's had the promise of it, so i understand. i've looked after that lighthouse ever since abner died, and i have never failed in my duty once. but tom dunker, the sneak, wants it. he's a government supporter, and thinks he ought to have it for what he did at the last election. abner voted opposition, and though they let me keep it ever since he died, the dunkers have been making such a fuss about it that something has to be done to pacify them." "i am very sorry to hear this, mrs. marden," and parson dan placed his hand to his forehead. this news troubled him, for he saw breakers ahead. "i knew that you would be sorry," the widow replied, "and so i have come to ask you to write to headquarters. a letter from you explaining the whole matter will have much effect." the bunkers were members of his flock, and parson dan was well aware how troublesome they could become if things did not go their way. but when his duty was clear he never hesitated, and as this was a case where it was necessary to protect the weak against the strong, he promised the widow that he would write at once on her behalf. so at last the clergyman was free from the woman of many troubles, and with a deep sigh of relief he sought the kitchen where mrs. royal had rodney all ready for bed. chapter iv rodney develops the entire parish of hillcrest soon took much interest in rodney the waif. tongues became loosened and people freely expressed their opinion about parson dan's action in taking the child into his house. some were most harsh in their criticism, especially tom dunker, who had been defeated in the lighthouse affair owing to the letter the parson had written on behalf of widow marden. he was very angry, and nursed his wrath against the day when he could get even with the clergyman. "we don't want a boy like that at the rectory," he complained. "he should have been sent to the orphanage or the poor house. we pay the parson's salary, an' we have a right to say who is to live by means of the money we give." now, tom dunker contributed only one dollar a year to the support of the church, and he always gave that in a most begrudging manner. he even refused to give this small amount after the parson sided with the widow. there were others, however, who stood loyally by their rector. they praised him for what he had done, and did all they could to assist him. thus this discussion was general throughout the parish for several weeks. some were sure that they saw the woman who had left the child at the rectory. she had taken the early steamer the next morning for the city, so they said. though the stories were somewhat different yet all agreed that the woman was beautiful, though her face was very sad, as if she had been weeping bitterly, and had not slept at all during the night. although the royals heard faint rumours at times of what was being said, they went on their way undisturbed, happy in the feeling that they had done their duty, and pouring out their affection upon the little lad who had become so dear to their lonely hearts. at christmas they were greatly surprised when a letter from boston reached them, with a post-office order enclosed for one dollar. "i am hungry for news of my baby," so the letter ran, "and will you please drop me a line to let me know how he is. i hope to send more money when i can. the above address will find me. "anna layor." parson dan held the post-office order in his hand for some time after he had read the letter. his eyes stared straight before him into the fire, though he saw nothing there. "that money goes into the bank, martha," he at length remarked. "i shall open an account in rodney's name. i could not use that money as it would weigh too heavily upon my conscience. a sacrifice has been made, there is no doubt of that. it is the price of blood, as truly as was the water brought to david from the well of bethlehem." "you are quite right, daniel," his wife replied. "something tells me that she is a good true woman, and that rodney need never be ashamed of her. but do you notice her name, 'anna layor'?" "don't let that worry you, dear. i have the feeling that it is not her real name. anyway, until we are sure let the boy keep ours." that night parson dan wrote a long letter in answer to the brief one he had received that day. it was all about rodney--in fact, a complete life history of the lad from the cold night he had been left at the rectory. far away in the big american city a few days later, in a scantily furnished room, it was read by a woman whose tears fell upon the pages as she eagerly drank in every word which told her of the welfare of her darling child. the next year rodney's mother wrote every month, enclosing one dollar each time. this amount was duly deposited in the bank to the child's account. this was kept up with great regularity for several years, and during that time numerous letters were exchanged. the ones from the mother were always very brief, and never once did she mention anything about herself. it was all of rodney she wrote, for her heart seemed full of love and longing for the child. "your letters are all too short," she once wrote. "i read them over and over again, and as you describe my little darling, how i long to see him and clasp him in my arms. god grant i may ere long have that blessed privilege. he is enshrined in my heart, and his sweet face is ever before me. i console myself with the thought that he is safe and well provided for. some day, i feel sure, i shall to a certain extent repay you for all that you have done for him and me." when rodney was five years old, the money from his mother began to increase. at first it was two dollars a month, then three, and at last five. this somewhat worried the royals, for they believed that rodney's mother was in better circumstances, and would soon return for her boy. their faces always grew very grave and their hearts heavy as they discussed this with each other. they dreaded the thought of parting with the little lad who had so completely won their affection. rodney was rapidly developing into a strong sturdy lad. he was the joy of the house, and though of a most loveable disposition, he was like a will-o'-the-wisp, full of fun and life. he spent most of the time out of doors in summer among the birds and flowers. there was hardly a creature in the vicinity of the rectory which he did not know. he found birds' nests in the most unlikely places, and he often caused parson dan many a tramp, as he eagerly pointed out his numerous treasures in tree, field, or vine-covered fence. it was often hard for the clergyman to keep up with his young guide, who sped on before, his bare, curly hair gleaming like gold in the sun. then, when he had parted several small bushes and exposed the nest of a grey-bird or a robin, his cheeks would glow with animation, and his eyes sparkle with delight. parson dan found more pleasure in watching this joy-thrilled lad than in the tiny eggs which were exhibited for his benefit. this was an almost daily occurrence through the summer. then at night, when tired with his day's rambles, rodney would rest his head upon the soft pillow while mrs. royal read him to sleep. stories he loved, and never wearied of them. one by one the books were brought from the room of sacred memories until the boy knew them all. "did you read all of those books when you were little, grandma?" rodney once asked. "not when i was little, dear," was the quiet reply. "but i read them to a little boy, though, who was as fond of them then as you are now." "whose little boy was he, grandma?" "he was my little boy, rodney." "was he? isn't that funny? i didn't know that. what was his name?" "it was alec." "and where is he now?" "he grew to be a big man, and one day he went away from home, and--and i never saw him again." "what are you crying for, grandma?" the boy, asked, suddenly noticing that tears were streaming down mrs. royal's cheeks. "i was thinking of my boy alec, dear. he went away and never came back." "why didn't he?" "because he was killed." "oh!" and rodney clasped his hands together, "how was he killed, grandma?" "he was on a train which ran off the track. many people were killed, and alec was one of them." "and that was his room, was it?" rodney asked. "and those were his books which he had when he was a little boy?" "yes, dear. but go to sleep now, and i shall tell you more about alec some other time." so free was the life which rodney led, that some of the neighbours often shook their heads, and prophesied trouble. "if that boy rod royal isn't looked after more'n he is he will come to a bad end, mark my word," tom dunker ponderously remarked to his wife one evening. "he's runnin' wild, that's what he is." "well, what can you expect of a pauper child?" his wife replied. "oh, i know that, jane. i'm not blamin' him; he can't help it. but them who has the bringin' up of him are at fault. what do the royals know about the trainin' of a child? didn't the only chick they ever had go wild, an' him a parson's son, too? i went to school with alec, an' i tell ye they kept a tight rein on him. i was sure that he'd be a parson like his dad. but, no, sirree, jist as soon as he got his freedom, he kicked over the traces like a young colt, an' went away." rodney gave the neighbours numerous causes for criticism. unconsciously and boy-like, he did things which were often misconstrued as downright badness, whereas the boy had not the slightest intention of doing anything wrong. he was simply natural, while many of his critical elders were most unnatural. they had their own hide-bound rules of what was proper, so they found it impossible to enter into the child's world, and look at things from his point of view. one sunday rodney took a kitten with him to church. the little pet was smuggled in beneath his coat. so dearly did he love it that he could not bear to be parted with it during church time for fear that something would happen to it. and, besides, he liked to have it with him, that he might cuddle it during the service, which to him was long and uninteresting. there would have been no trouble if the kitten had been content to remain beneath its master's coat. but, alas, when the organ struck up for the first hymn, it began to wriggle vehemently in an effort to get its head out to see where the peculiar noise came from. rodney tried to keep it back and soothe its fears. but all in vain, for the kitten suddenly slipped from his grasp, and sprang out into the aisle. rodney instantly darted after his pet, and seized it just as it was about to disappear beneath the pulpit steps. triumphantly he carried it back to the seat where mrs. royal was sitting. to the latter it was only an amusing incident, as she understood the spirit in which it was done. but to many in the church it was a most disgraceful thing, and formed a choice topic of conversation for the rest of the day in various households. they could not, and in truth did not wish to remember the excellent sermon parson dan delivered that morning. the picture of a little curly-headed boy speeding up the aisle after the kitten obscured everything else. it was that very week when rodney made his next break, which branded him as a red-handed criminal to several in the parish. the ladies' aid society was meeting at the rectory on a beautiful afternoon. there was a good attendance, and the members freely discussed many questions of vital interest. the conversation at last drifted off to the training of children. this was brought about most deftly by mrs. harmon, solely for mrs. royal's benefit. mrs. harmon had no children, and, as is generally the case, she considered herself a great authority as to how children should be managed. there was no half-way measure in her system of training. she knew, and that ended it. mrs. harmon was ably supported by miss arabella simpkins, a woman of uncertain age, exceedingly precise, and subject to severe attacks of "nerves." her thin lips remained tightly compressed as she listened for some time to the conversation. as mothers who had brought up children told how difficult a problem it was, miss arabella's eyes gleamed with a scornful pity, and her nose tilted higher in the air than ever. then when at last she did open her lips, she uttered words laden with great wisdom. it was disgraceful, so she said, the way children were indulged at the present day. it was seldom that you could find parents who had any real control over their offspring. oh, yes, she knew. scarcely had she finished speaking ere rodney appeared at the door, barefooted, hatless, his blouse dirty, his cheeks aglow, and his eyes blazing with excitement. in his grimy hands he clasped some precious treasure. he hesitated for an instant when he saw so many women in the room. but nothing could restrain him. he had made a marvellous discovery, and wished to show it to others. miss arabella was right before him, a few feet away. for her he darted, and dropped suddenly into her lap a big-eyed, hump-back toad. instantly there followed a wild shriek of terror, as the spinster leaped from her chair, sending the innocent toad sprawling upon the floor. the strain was too much for miss arabella, and she properly collapsed, much to the consternation of the assembled women. by the time she was revived, rodney, the culprit, was nowhere in sight. he had rescued his precious toad, and had fled from the house, greatly puzzled over the confusion which had been made over his simple action. little did he know, much less care, that for years to come he would be considered a "bad boy" by many of the leading people of hillcrest, and totally unfit to associate with other children of the parish. but parson dan and mrs. royal understood, and as they kissed him that night as he stood before them in his little nightgown, they knew that there was nothing bad about him. in truth they were somewhat pleased that miss arabella had at last been jarred out of her rigid self-complacency. chapter v captain josh takes a hand rodney did not attend the country school until he was over seven years of age. it was more than a mile away, and the royals could not bear the thought of the little lad walking the whole of that distance when he was but six. he had lost nothing, however, by not attending before. in fact he had gained much, for both parson dan and mrs. royal had carefully instructed him so that when he did go to school he was far ahead of boys and girls of his own age. rodney got on well with all the scholars except sammie dunker, who was eight years old, and a bully to all younger children. when boys of his own age and older were around, sammie was very quiet. but when they were not present he tyrannised over the little ones to such an extent that existence, especially during the dinner hour, became almost unbearable. he had knocked out several boys younger and smaller than himself, until at last there was no one left to dispute his authority. rodney royal, accordingly, was a new and choice victim. sammie knew all about him, as he had been freely and severely discussed at his home almost every day as far back as he could remember. here, then, was a lawful prey, and he gloated over the stories he would have to tell to his father of what he had done to the waif. at noon-hour, the first day, sammie made himself very objectionable. he centred his attention upon rod, for thus his name had now become shortened by every one except the royals. rod bore these attacks and insulting remarks as well as he could, and refrained from open hostility. but what sammie had done and said rankled in his heart and mind for the rest of the day, causing him to lie awake for some time that night thinking it all over. he confided his thoughts to no one, however, but the next morning as he left for school, there was a new look of determination in his eyes, and he trudged along the road with head held high, and his shoulders thrown back, while occasionally his hands clenched hard together. for the first half of the noon-hour nothing happened. whether sammie divined rod's purpose is hard to say. anyway, he devoted his attention to others, especially the little girls, whom he teased unmercifully. rod watched this performance with interest, mingled with indignation. twice he was tempted to interfere, but each time he hesitated and went on with his play. but when at length one little girl began to scream with pain, he could control himself no longer. with flashing eyes he sprang toward the tormentor, and demanded that he should leave nancy alone. for an instant only sammie stared, amazed to think that any one would dare to be so bold with him. he then gave a laugh of contempt, and hit rod full in the face. "that's what ye git fer meddlin'," he cried. "want some more, eh?" rod staggered back at the blow, but immediately regaining himself, he sprang swiftly upon his antagonist. so unexpected was the attack, that sammie was caught off guard, and ere he could raise a hand he received two black eyes, while his nose began to bleed profusely. with a howl of pain and rage, he tried to defend himself, but he could do nothing against that whirlwind of fists which was swirling against him. he endeavoured to dodge and run away, but, catching his foot in the leg of a desk, he fell sprawling to the floor. by this time some of the older boys had arrived, who cheered lustily as they saw sammie go down before his young opponent. they looked upon rod with much interest, and worthy of their attention. in fact, he became quite a hero for the remainder of the day, while the defeated bully, with black eyes, and swollen nose, sat sullenly in his seat, keeping his head bent over his desk, and not daring to look any one in the face. when school was out he did not wait for his usual pranks, but hurried away home as speedily as possible. rod said nothing at home about the incident at the school. he was afraid that parson dan and mrs. royal would be angry if they learned that he had been fighting, especially with sammie dunker. and, besides, if he told he would have to explain what had led him into the affray, and he did not wish to tell that he had taken nancy's part. it would seem too much like boasting, and he had always disliked boasters who figured in some stories mrs. royal had read to him. next morning as he walked along the road to school carrying his lunch-basket, he was in a different mood from the previous day. then he had the feeling of a soldier, with nerves high strung going into battle; now he was the victor, with the danger past and trouble over. he believed that sammie would not bother him again, and that the little girls would look up to him as their natural protector. he was thinking of these things as he drew near the store. behind him lumbered a large wagon, drawn by two horses. tom dunker, big and burly, held the reins, and as he caught sight of the little boy ahead, a scowl overspread his heavy face. sammie had given his version of the fight in which rod was entirely in the wrong. this his parents believed, and, accordingly, were very angry. so as tom now beheld rod, he thought it would be a smart thing to give him a great scare. rod was walking at one side of the road, and just as the horses' heads were abreast of him, tom drew them sharply to the left, at the same time yelling at the boy to get out of the way. taken by surprise, rod sprang into the ditch for safety, dropping his basket in his fright, which rolled beneath the horses' feet. this so startled the nervous animals that they leaped quickly forward, and swerved to the right, thus bringing the hind wheel of the wagon against the sharp ends of a pile of cordwood near the road. there was a crash as two of the spokes were ripped from the hub by the impact, while the wood came tumbling down into the road. with much difficulty tom checked the horses, and then wild with rage, he turned upon the innocent lad, charging him with having frightened his team. "i didn't," rod sturdily replied, coming close to the wagon, his eyes flaming with indignation. "you tried to drive over me, that's what you did." "how dare ye answer me!" tom cried, white with wrath. "ye young villain, ye're nothin' but a pauper, an' should be in the poor house, instead of livin' with decent people. ye don't know who yer father an' mother are, do ye? an' no one else does, fer that matter. ye wouldn't own 'em if ye did." rod stood for an instant as if turned to stone. the flush left his cheeks, and his face grew very white. then his small brown hands clenched hard, and he took a step closer to the wagon. "you lie!" he shouted. "how dare you say that!" with a roar tom clutched the handle of his whip, and the lash suddenly cut the air with a swish. it circled rod's shoulders, sharply flicking his face, leaving a crimson streak upon the white left cheek. the lash had scarcely fallen ere a big form hurled itself from the store platform, and bounded along the road. it was captain josh who had been an interested spectator of all that had taken place. his eyes gleamed with a dangerous light, and the heavy stick in his right hand struck the ground harder than usual as he strode up to the wagon. "ye coward!" he roared, coming between rod and the irate teamster. "how dare ye strike a little lad like that!" "he scared me horses on purpose, an' then sassed me," was the surly answer. "none of yer lyin', tom dunker," said the captain laid his left hand upon the top of the side-board, and shook it vehemently. "i saw the whole affair, and don't ye try any of yer lies on me." "what business is it of yourn, anyway, josh britt? it ain't your funeral, is it? you git out of this, an' leave me alone!" "not my funeral, eh? it might have been one fer the lad here, though, if you had yer way. i saw ye pull yer horses over to scare him, and when he spoke up to ye like a man, ye slashed him with yer whip. he didn't sass ye, not a bit of it." "well, you'll git the same, then, ye old fool," and once more tom raised his whip to strike. he was not dealing with a boy now, however, but with the strongest man in hillcrest. tom knew this, but in his rage he had thrown reason to the wind. with lightning rapidity captain josh reached up, caught tom by the arm, and in a twinkling brought him sprawling upon the side of the road. with an ugly oath, the teamster tried to regain his feet, but he was helpless in the grip of the captain's powerful arm. he writhed and cursed, but all in vain, and at length was forced to give up the struggle, and sat panting upon the road completely cowed. by this time several men from the store surrounded the contestants, who watched with much interest the subjection of tom dunker. to them captain josh paid no heed, but stood glowering over his victim. when he saw that he was subdued he let go his grip, and stepped back a couple of paces. "now, git up!" he demanded. as tom made no effort to obey, the captain leaned forward, caught him once more in his mighty grip, and lifted him to his feet. "stand there, ye wobbly-kneed cur!" he cried. "i'll have the law of ye," tom wailed. "if there's b-b-british justice, you'll git it!" "h'm," the captain snorted. "ye talk about british justice. ye may thank yer stars at this very minute that the law hasn't its grip upon ye fer tryin' to kill a harmless boy. but i'll do it instead. i'll be the british justice, judge, lawyers, jury, and the whole dang concern combined. now, look here, tom bunker, you apologise to that youngster fer what ye did to him this mornin'." tom's face, livid with rage, took a darker tinge at this command. more on-lookers had now arrived, who jeered and hooted the unfortunate man. it was a great joke to see the boaster at length brought low by quaint old captain josh. such a thing didn't happen every day, and they could well afford to lose any amount of time to see the fun. but it was far from fun for the victim of their sport. he made one more effort to assert himself, and turned furiously upon his captor with words and fists. but two hands gripped him now instead of one, and he was brought down upon the road with such a bang that he yelled with pain, and pleaded for mercy. "mercy, d'ye ask?" the captain growled. "there'll be no mercy shown to the like of you till ye do what i say. yer son got settled yesterday fer actin' the bully, and you'll git far worse to-day if ye don't hurry and do as i tell ye." "what d'ye want me to say?" tom moaned. "say? say what ye like, only let it be a decent apology. tell the boy that ye're sorry, and that sich a thing won't happen again, that's all." rod had been a silent and interested spectator of all that had taken place. at first he could not understand the meaning of the captain's words. but when it suddenly dawned upon his mind, he sprang quickly forward. "i don't want him to do it!" he cried. "don't want him to do what?" exclaimed the astonished captain. "'pologise. i don't want him to say he's sorry." "why not, lad?" "'cause he isn't." "how d'ye know that?" "his face and eyes say he isn't. if i was sorry for anything, you wouldn't have to make me 'pologise. i'd be only too glad to do it." there was a dead silence when rod finished speaking, for all were now anxiously waiting to see what would follow. even captain josh, always so ready with his tongue, was at a loss for words. he stared first at rod and then at tom. "well, i never!" he at length ejaculated. "what d'ye want me to do with him, then?" and he pointed to the man upon the ground. "let him go," rod quickly replied, "he doesn't want to 'pologise, and i don't want him to do it, so there." "all right, then," the captain assented, "i'll do as ye say. git up, tom bunker, and git out of this. when ye say yer prayers to-night--that is, if ye say them, which i doubt--thank the lord that ye got out of this scrape without any bones broken." with that, captain josh picked up his stick, and started for home, while the on-lookers went back to the store to discuss tom bunker's defeat. chapter vi a new friend rod was late for school, and received a tardy mark. the teacher also spoke quite sharply, and told him that school opened at nine instead of a quarter after. at any other time rod would have felt keenly this reprimand. but now it did not trouble him, as he had other things to think about. he was very quiet during the morning, and joined in none of the games. sammie dunker left him alone, and for once the small girls and boys had peace. rod gave hardly a thought to tom dunker's action in frightening him. it was what he had said about the poor house, and his father and mother which worried him. "what did he mean?" he asked himself over and over again. why did he say that i should go to the poor house instead of living with decent people, and that i wouldn't own my parents if i knew them? his brain grew hot as he brooded over these words. other children had their fathers and mothers with them, and why was it that he had never seen his, and knew nothing about them? mrs. royal had told him that his mother was living, and several times she had read her letters to him. but she was a vague person, one he had never seen, and in whom he had no special interest. the royals, and the people he knew in hillcrest were of more importance to him than his own mother. but now a desire entered his soul to know something about his parents. were they bad people? he asked himself. why did they not come to see him? were they ashamed to do so? he wondered, and was that what tom meant? as noon approached, rod began to feel hungry. he had eaten very little breakfast, as he had been too much interested in a new family of kittens which had been discovered in the barn. the other scholars who had come some distance would have their dinner, and he could not bear the thought of seeing them eating when he was so hungry. he, therefore, planned to spend the hour by himself down by the river. as the children flocked out of school, rod moved with them. but the teacher stopped him, and handed to him a small parcel, neatly tied. "what's that?" rod asked, much surprised. "i do not know," was the reply. "some one left it here this morning." then rod remembered that he had heard a knock, and the teacher had gone to the door, returning shortly with something in her hand. he had not seen the visitor, and so had soon forgotten all about the incident. going back to his scat, he untied the string, and unwrapped the brown paper. then great was his surprise to find a dainty lunch lying within. there were several slices of choice home-made bread, two pieces of cake, a large wedge of pumpkin-pie, and a fine rosy apple. for a few moments rod sat staring at the feast before him. who could have sent it? he wondered, then all at once he remembered. it was the apple which solved the problem, and he knew that there was only one tree in the neighbourhood which produced such fruit as that. he had often seen the tree from the road, but had never dared to venture near, as it was too close to captain josh's house. he knew now where the lunch had come from, and it made him so excited that for awhile he forgot to eat as he sat there thinking it all over. when rod went home from school, mrs. royal noticed the crimson mark upon his cheek where the whip had struck him. she asked no questions, however, for she wanted rod to tell of his own free will how it happened. it was after he was in bed, that the boy looked up inquiringly into mrs. royal's face, as she stood by his side before bidding him good-night. "grandma," he began, "what is a pauper?" "oh, it is a person who has no home, and no money, and has to live upon others," was the reply. "am i a pauper, grandma?" and the boy's face flushed. "you a pauper!" mrs. royal exclaimed, as she sat down upon a chair by the side of the bed. "what makes you ask such a question, dear? whoever put such an idea into your head?" "tom dunker said that i am a pauper." "he did! when did he tell you that?" "to-day, just before he hit me with his whip and made the mark upon my cheek." "oh!" it was all that mrs. royal could say. she had become suddenly aroused, feeling sure that something of a serious nature had happened that day. "why did he call you a pauper, dear?" she at length asked as calmly as possible. "'cause i told him i didn't scare his horses, and make them jump. he got mad, and said i was a pauper, and should be in the poor house instead of living with decent people. and he said that i didn't know who my father and mother are, and that i would be ashamed of them if i did, that's what he said." into mrs. royal's eyes came an expression of deep concern, mingled with indignation. "you poor boy," she soothed, taking his little left hand in hers. "you have had great troubles to-day, have you not?" "but am i a pauper, grandma?" the boy insisted. "no, you certainly are not, dear." "and i shouldn't be in the poor house?" "no, no. you are just where you should be, with grandad and me." "and my father and mother are not bad, and i wouldn't be ashamed of them if i saw them?" "no, not at all. i never heard of your father, so i think he must be dead. but i believe that your mother is a good, noble woman." "why doesn't she come to see me, then?" "i do not know, dear. but she says that she will come some day. she longs to see you, and in every letter she writes she asks so many questions about you. i have read some of them to you. she wrote many when you were very little, and i have kept every one." "have you, grandma? i am so glad. will you read them to me sometimes?" "yes, dear, i shall read you one or two every night." "oh, that will be so nice. and i am glad that tom dunker was wrong. he didn't know about my mother, did he?" "no, dear." "do you think captain josh knows, grandma?" "why, what makes you think that, rodney?" "'cause he was so kind to me to-day. he took my part, and then brought me such a nice lunch." "brought you a lunch!" mrs. royal exclaimed, in surprise. "what do you mean?" "well, you see, when the horses ran over the dinner you gave me this morning it was all knocked out in the road, and i had nothing to eat, so captain josh brought me such a nice lunch." "did you see him?" "no, i didn't. but there was a big rosy apple, and i know where it came from. it grew on that tree right by the captain's house." mrs. royal sat very still for some time. she was thinking over what rod had just told her. tom dunker's action troubled her, and she thought how mean it was for him to take revenge on a little child for what her husband had done. but there was compensation, for captain josh's kindness interested her greatly. no one had been able to understand the old man, and every one dreaded him. that he had defended rodney, and then had taken a lunch for him all the way to the schoolhouse was something unusual. for some time she sat there, and when she at last rose to go downstairs to meet her husband, who had just returned home, rod was fast asleep. his cares for the present were over, and as mrs. royal watched the little curly head lying upon the pillow, she gave a deep sigh as she bent over and kissed him. must he go through life handicapped? she asked herself, for no fault of his own? would he always be looked upon as a waif, an ill-starred child, and in the eyes of the world, a pauper? parson dan had come in from a long drive from the outmost portion of his large parish. he was tired and hungry, and enjoyed the supper which was awaiting him. it was then that his wife told him about rod's experience during the day. the clergyman was deeply interested, and when supper was over, he rose from the table, and instead of taking his pipe, as was his usual habit, he reached for his coat and hat. "why, where are you going, daniel?" his wife asked, in surprise. "i must see captain josh," was the reply. "i want to hear the whole story of to-day's transactions, and to thank him for what he did for our boy. i have never known rodney to deceive us. but this is such a serious affair, that i must hear the story from some one else who knows." he was about to open the door when a loud knock sounded on the outside. when it was opened, great was his astonishment to see the very person they had been talking about standing before him. "captain josh! this is a surprise," and the clergyman held out his hand. "evenin', parson," was the gruff reply. "thought i'd make a little call on you and the missus," and he thumped his stick heavily upon the floor as he entered. mrs. royal came quickly forward, shook hands, and offered the visitor a big comfortable chair. "my, that feels good," the captain exclaimed. "i ain't as young as i used to be, and that walk has puffed me a good deal." "how would a smoke suit you?" the parson suggested, knowing the captain's fondness for his pipe. "i have some good tobacco here, sent from the city by an old friend of mine." "he certainly is a good judge of baccy," the captain remarked, after he had filled and lighted his pipe. "a friend like that is worth knowin', eh?" and he slyly winked at mrs. royal. "we have many such friends, i am thankful to say," mrs. royal replied, "and we don't have to go to the city for them, either." "no? well, i'm real glad to hear that," and the captain blew a big cloud of smoke into the air. "i never made many friends in my life. guess i was too cranky; at any rate, that's what betsey says, and i guess she must understand me by this time, ha, ha!" "you must not judge yourself too harshly, captain," parson dan replied. "anyway, if you don't make many friends, you are able at times to be a friend to others. i wish to thank you for what you did for our little boy to-day." "so ye've heard all about it, eh?" and the captain fixed his keen eyes upon the parson's face. "only partly, captain. rodney told mrs. royal some of the story this evening, and i was just going over to hear it all from you as you entered." "it was a mean trick that tom dunker tried on him to-day," the visitor returned, "and i'm sorry that i didn't give the coward a bigger dose than i did. oh, how he did squawk when i got both of my hands upon his measly carcass. i guess him and that boy sammie of his will learn to leave decent people alone after this." "why, what about sammie?" the royals asked. "what! haven't ye heard?" "no, not a word." "well, if that doesn't beat all! and rod never told ye?" "he said nothing to us about sammie." captain josh looked first at the clergyman and then at mrs. royal with an expression of doubt in his eyes. "and so ye say he didn't tell ye anything?" he finally blurted out, while his stick came down with a bang upon the carpet. "if any one else had said that i wouldn't believe him. to think of a boy doin' what he did and not rushin' home all excited, and blattin' out his yarn. but, then, i always knew there was extra stuff in that lad. i have had my eyes on him ever since the mornin' i gave him a cow, ho, ho!" and the captain leaned back and laughed heartily as the recollection of the "cow incident" came back to him. "that was my first present," he continued, "but it isn't my last, not by a long jugful, no, sir-ree." "but what did rodney do, captain?" the parson enquired. "we are very anxious to hear." "do! what did he do, eh? why, he walked right over sammie dunker, that's what he did. oh, i heard all about it at the store that very night. sammie has been a regular chip of the old dunker block ever since he started fer school. he bullied all the little chaps, and had them all scared to a shadder. but when he butted up aginst rod it was a different proposition, ho, ho! i'd like to have been there." "do you mean that rodney was fighting sammie dunker?" the clergyman asked, with a note of severity in his voice. "i am astonished." "oh, no, there was no fightin', parson. sammie didn't fight; that's not the dunker way. but he hurt little nancy garvan, and when rod told him to stop, he slapped him in the face. rod then walked into him and gave him two black eyes, a bloody nose, and left him sprawlin' upon the floor. that was all there was about it. oh, no, there was no fightin'." "h'm, i see," parson dan quietly remarked, while a slight gleam of pride shone in his eyes. he glanced toward his wife, but her head was bent over some sewing she had picked up from the table. "i've been watchin' that boy of yours fer some time," the captain continued, "and he's the right stuff. i know more about him than ye think. i'd 'a' given my cow to have seen him put that toad into bella simpkins' lap, ho, ho, ho! that was the best thing i ever heard, ha, ha, ha!" "but some of the neighbours think it was sheer badness which made him do it," mrs. royal replied. "i know they do, confound their skins!" the captain roared, springing to his feet in his excitement. "haven't i heard it on all sides? they twist every blessed thing he does into badness, and then account fer it all by sayin' that he is a pauper. but, by jinks! there isn't an ounce of badness about that boy. i've taken an interest in him simply because--well, mebbe i'm a cranky cuss--and when i see people down on a lad, i like to take his part. and look here, parson, i'm givin' warnin'." "what warning?" questioned the clergyman, shrinking back from the huge fist which was suddenly thrust toward his face. "warnin' to you, parson, not to bury any one i knock out who interferes with that lad of yours. it'll be sich a clear case of suicide that ye won't dare to read the burial service over him. everybody knows now that i've taken that boy under my care, and if any one runs aginst my fists it won't be an accident, but a clear case of self-destruction, and it won't be necessary to hold an inquest." both mr. and mrs. royal smiled at the captain's quaint expression of loyalty to rodney. "i trust there'll be no more trouble," the clergyman replied. "come, fill up your pipe again. my city friend would be delighted to know that rodney's able champion enjoyed the tobacco he sent." "well, i don't care if i do," and the captain knocked the cold ashes out of his pipe. "i'll fill up, and then git home. but there is one thing i want to ask ye, and that's what brought me over here to-night. me and betsey are pretty lonely at times. we never see a child around the house, and we'd both consider it a special favour if ye'd let yer boy come to see us once in awhile." "why, certainly," the parson replied. "i give my consent, and i feel sure that you will, won't you?" and he turned to his wife. "yes, captain, i am quite willing for rodney to go, and it is very thoughtful of you to want him. i hope that he will behave himself." "no fear of that," the captain eagerly returned. "i've got some fine apples jist waitin' fer him, and several other things to surprise him when he comes. so, good-night, i must be gittin' along." chapter vii chums it was a beautiful saturday morning, and captain josh was busy in his little work-shop at the side of his house. he was in a hurry, and his big hands moved swiftly and deftly as he cut the cotton or tied a piece of string. once or twice he stepped back to view his work, and then a pleased expression appeared upon his face. occasionally his eyes turned toward the little window above the work-bench until they rested upon the road, leading from the main highway to his house. the captain was expecting company, and this was something remarkable at "the anchorage," the name of the snug cottage by the riverside. within the house mrs. britt, too, was busy, and as she moved about the kitchen, her step was lighter than it had been for years. she had just finished making a batch of doughnuts, not the lean kind, mostly holes, but big fat ones, coated with sugar, like thick frost upon the window pane in winter. she was now making apple pies, the kind where the juice runs out into the oven, and some of it sticks to the plate. mrs. britt was known throughout the parish as an excellent cook, though of late years few people were ever allowed the privilege of tasting her dainties. this was her husband's fault, and not hers. she was naturally of a sociable disposition, and fond of company. but captain josh's crankiness had antagonised every person in hillcrest, and it was mrs. britt who suffered the most. but she was loyal to her husband, and if people would not come to her home, she would not go to theirs. at one time captain josh had been the most agreeable of companions, and his return from a voyage was always a red-letter day in the parish. his ringing laugh was heard at the store, and every evening his house was filled with neighbours, who dropped in to have a smoke, and listen to the yarns of the old seaman. but two events coming close together produced a great change in the captain. one was the absence of his only son, jimmy, who had gone far away to the northland, and never wrote home to his parents. the other, was the loss of his vessel, the _flying queen_, a three-masted schooner, which, loaded with a valuable cargo, lost her bearings, and went ashore in a heavy fog. owing to captain josh's excellent past record, the shipping company was most lenient. he was permitted to retire with a moderate allowance. this amount, together with what he obtained from his few acres of land, and the fish and the fur he took, was quite sufficient to keep him and his wife in moderate comfort. the loss of his vessel, followed by his retirement, was a severe blow to the captain. he was too old to take command of another ship for new owners, and he chafed at his enforced stay on land. he longed for the sea, for nowhere else did he feel so much at home. his pride was hurt as well. he felt keenly the humiliation, and he believed that his neighbours laughed at him behind his back. thus for years he brooded over his troubles until they became a vital part of his very being, and soured his former jolly disposition. there was one redeeming feature, however, to captain josh, and that was his intense sympathy for any unfortunate creature, whether man or beast. let any dumb brute be abused, and it aroused the captain to intense indignation. and so when he found that most of the people in hillcrest were turned against parson dan's lad, simply because he was a waif, he naturally took an interest in the boy, which increased the more people talked. the climax to his interest was reached the day he took rod's part against tom dunker. on this saturday morning captain josh had tied the last string, and cut off the ends close to the knot. he then glanced once more through the window, and his eyes brightened as he saw the little lad he was expecting not far from the house. rod was not walking very fast, for he was on new, and hitherto forbidden ground, and, notwithstanding the invitation, he was not altogether sure of the reception he would receive. he was a trim, looking lad in his well-fitting suit, as clean and neat as mrs. royal's hands could make it, while a large straw hat covered his curly hair. he wore neither shoes nor stockings, and his feet and legs were as brown as the sun could make them. captain josh was at the shop door to receive him. "ye're late, lad," was his only greeting. "i'm sorry, captain," was the reply, "but i had to go to the store for grandma. oh!" and he stopped short as his eyes rested upon the fine full-rigged schooner sitting upon the work-bench. "how d'ye like it?" the captain asked, delighted at rod's interest. "great!" and the boy stepped cautiously forward, as if afraid that the white sails were wings; to bear the wonderful thing away. "who made it?" he whispered. "oh, some fool." "you?" "what! d'ye call me a fool?" the captain roared, looking so fierce that rod shrank back a step. "no, no, no. i didn't mean that. i only, i only----" "i know, lad, i know," and the captain laughed heartily. "ye didn't mean any harm. yes, i made her years ago fer another boy. she's been lyin' here a long time, and so t'other day i got her down, cleaned her up, and put on new sails, thinkin' that perhaps ye might like her." "what! for me?" rod asked in surprise. "sure, if ye'd like to have her." would rod like to have her? his eyes sparkled, and his hands trembled with excitement as he examined his treasure. what a wonder it was. "what's her name?" he asked. "the _flyin' queen_, after the schooner i lost." "will she sail?" "y'bet. let's launch her." from the window mrs. britt watched the two as they walked down to the shore. she recalled the day, over twenty years ago, when another little lad had trotted as eagerly as rod by the captain's side, and it was to sail a small boat, too. her eyes grew misty as her thoughts went back to that scene. but mingled with this sadness was a feeling of thankfulness that her husband had taken such a strong liking to rod. not since jimmy left had he done such a thing, and she was hopeful that this child would unconsciously change him back to the genial big-hearted man he was when she married him. rod was delighted with the _flying queen_, and wading in the water to his knees, he sailed her along the shore. the captain had a pickerel net to look after, which kept him busy for some time. but he missed scarcely anything that rod was doing, and he was greatly pleased at the boy's delight. "pull her ashore now, lad," he at length ordered, "and let's go fer a sail." "what, in the _roaring bess_?" rod eagerly asked, as he glanced toward the yacht fretting gently at her anchor a short distance away. "sure thing. dinner won't be ready fer an hour, so we'll take a spin around fer awhile." rod could hardly believe his senses. how often he had looked upon the _roaring bess_ from the respectable distance of the main road. to have a sail in her had been his one great ambition. while lying in bed he had often imagined himself skimming over the water, with the sail, big and white, bending above him. now his dream had really come true, and here he was at last sitting by captain josh's side, watching him as he headed the boat upstream. a gentle breeze was drifting in from westward, sufficient to fill the sail and send the _roaring bess_ speeding over the water. a deep sigh escaped rod's lips. "hey, what's wrong?" the captain cried. "gittin' tired, and want to go home?" "oh, no, no," was the emphatic reply. "i sighed because i am so happy." "h'm. that's it, eh? i thought people generally whistled or laughed when they are happy." "is that what you do, captain josh, when you're happy?" "me? i'm never happy." "why, i'd be happy all the time if i had a boat like this." "ye would? well, take the tiller, then, while i fill me pipe." a new thrill of joy swept through rod's entire being as he clutched the wooden handle and moved it to left or right as the captain ordered. never did any commander in charge of the largest vessel feel greater pride than did the young helmsman. his face glowed, and his eyes sparkled with excitement, while the breeze tossed his wavy hair. captain josh watched him out of the corner of his eye as he puffed away at his short-stemmed pipe. "ye'll make a good sailor some day, lad," he remarked. "ye've got the eye fer sich business." "that's what i'm going to be," was the reply. "i'll be a captain, and have a big ship of my own. i'm going to call her the _roaring bess_, and i'll take you along with me." "i'd like to go well enough," and the old man's gaze wandered off into space, "but i guess my sailin' days'll be over by that time. but here we are back home again. betsey'll be waitin' dinner fer us." and what a dinner that was! rod remembered it long afterwards, and how mrs. britt sat there smiling upon him, and urging him to have "just one more piece of pie, and another cruller." never before had he felt so important. he was the guest being treated with such respect. when holding the tiller that morning he had longed for sammie dunker and the rest of the boys to see him. so now, sitting near the bluff old captain and his wife, he desired the same thing. he felt quite sure that no other boy in the whole parish had been so honoured, and if his schoolmates ever heard of it, they would be sure to look upon him as a person of great importance. when dinner was over, captain josh pushed back his chair, filled and lighted his pipe. rod was surprised that he did not return thanks when they were through, as was the custom at the rectory. "i'm very thankful for that dinner, mrs. josh," he remarked. "i'm glad you enjoyed it, dear," was the reply. "yes, i did. it was so good that i want to thank god for it. do you mind?" "no, certainly not," and mrs. britt glanced anxiously toward her husband. but when she saw the captain take his pipe out of his mouth, and bow his shaggy head while the boy repeated the few words of thanks he had been taught, a feeling of gratitude came into her heart, and her eyes became moist. there was silence for a few minutes when rod finished. the captain puffed at his pipe, while mrs. britt began to clear away the dishes. "kin ye swim, lad?" captain josh suddenly asked, in his deep gruff voice. "no, i can't," was the somewhat nervous reply. "ever been in the water?" "oh, yes. lots of times." "and ye can't swim. well, ye'll have to git over that if ye're round where i am." "can you swim, captain josh?" rod asked. "ho, ho," and the old man leaned back in his chair and shook with laughter. "kin i swim? why, boy, i could swim before i was as old as you. when i was fifteen i could swim across the river." "you could!" and rod's eyes shone with admiration. "did you ever swim across the ocean, captain?" "not quite, lad. not quite that far." "well, then, i will some day, captain josh," rod cried, as he rose to his feet, and stood erect. "when i'm a man, i'll swim across the ocean and back again before breakfast, see if i don't." "that'll be quite an undertakin', lad," and the captain's eyes twinkled. "i hope i'll be standin' on the shore when ye git back. i guess ye'll have more cause fer thankfulness then than ye did after eatin' yer dinner to-day. but come," and he rose suddenly to his feet; "i want ye to help me put out my net. ye must take a nice fresh pickerel home with ye when ye go." what a wonderful afternoon that was to rod! most of the time was spent upon the water, and he received his first real instructions about the handling of the _roaring bess_, the ropes, sail, port and starboard, to say nothing of his lesson in splicing. there was also the swim in the little secluded cove, with the captain as an excellent teacher. rod little realised that he was being thoroughly sounded as to his qualities and capabilities. "ye'll do, lad," was the captain's comment, when at last they came ashore. "ye're worth botherin' with, i kin see that all right. if ye don't know more'n yer master in a few months, i'll be much surprised. so, there now, take this pickerel to yer grandma, and tell her that ye took it out of the net yerself, and don't ferget to give her my compliments." chapter viii the chums to the rescue parson dan and mrs. royal were greatly interested in the story rod had to tell them that evening of his experiences during the day. it seemed hardly possible that cranky captain josh could become such an interesting companion to a little boy. they discussed it for some time after rod had gone to bed. "it is quite evident that the captain has taken a great fancy to rodney," mrs. royal remarked, as she bent her head over some needlework she had in her hands. "but are you not a little anxious, daniel?" "anxious! about what?" the parson inquired, as he took his pipe from his mouth and looked questioningly at his wife. "oh, about the influence he might exert upon our boy. will it be for his good, do you think?" "umph!" and the clergyman blew a cloud of smoke into the air. "don't let that worry you, martha. no harm will come to rodney from this friendship. it will be just the opposite, i believe, and he will influence the captain for good." "but captain josh never comes to church, daniel, so what will people say?" "let them say, martha. they will talk, anyway, and they might as well have something to talk about. it will create a little diversion. no doubt miss arabella simpkins will consider it her bounden duty to come right here, and express her views. and suppose the captain doesn't come to church, is that any reason why a little boy should shun him? it may be the means of making captain josh see things in a different light. perhaps the lord has a hand in this, and who am i to interfere with his plans? he has often used children to lead men back to him, and it may be that he is using rodney now." as the weeks and months passed, captain josh and rod became firmer friends than ever, and scarcely a day passed that they were not together for a while. there were so many things for the boy to see and learn that his interest never waned. he was so happy when out on the river in the _roaring bess_, and ere long he knew all about the boat, and could steer her almost as well as the captain himself. when the fall settled in, and the weather became cold, the water was abandoned, and so the yacht was pulled out upon the stocks by means of a rude windlass. here, covered with a large canvas, she remained during the long winter months, safe from the driving storms which often raged over the land. then it was that the captain turned his attention to trapping, which he had followed for several years. there were several big brooks flowing into the river, draining a large area of country, principally wooded, and these abounded with mink, raccoon, and other fur-bearing animals. the captain was an expert, and knew the most likely places where game could be best taken. rod at times went with him on his regular rounds to visit the traps, and it was always a great joy to the boy when he was allowed to carry back some furry prize which had been secured. next to these trips, rod's chief delight was to sit before the big open fire on a cold or stormy saturday afternoon, and listen to the captain as he told stories of his sea life, while he worked fixing up his traps, making stretchers for the pelts, or doing other odd jobs. how the boy's heart would thrill, and his eyes sparkle with animation as captain josh told of furious seas he had encountered, the dangers he had escaped, and the races he had made with other sailing-vessels. sometimes he would tell an amusing tale, at which the boy would laugh in high glee. often rod would ask questions about the sailors, the sea-monsters, and the various ports the captain had visited. sometimes they would pore over an old geography, while the captain pointed out with his big fore-finger the countries he had visited, and the routes he had taken. rod was thus so well acquainted with certain countries that his teacher was much surprised at his knowledge. it was only natural that people should talk about this strange friendship between the rough old sea-captain and the little boy. how their tongues did wag, and many were the visits of protest paid to the rectory. the principal discussion, however, always took place at the regular meetings of the ladies' aid society. this was done most of all for mrs. royal's benefit. she knew this, and with much self-restraint she resisted making any reply for some time. but at one meeting, when the criticism became extremely severe, she could stand it no longer. mrs. harmon had just been indulging in one of her long dissertations, and finished by asking the rector's wife if she did not consider it very unbecoming for a small boy, and a waif at that, with no doubt bad blood in his veins, to be so much in the company of a rough creature like captain josh. he should be at home, studying his lessons and learning the catechism. "mrs. harmon," mrs. royal replied as calmly as possible, "i have listened for some time to the criticisms which you and others have made about our allowing rodney to associate with captain josh, and i think it is about time for me to say a word. mr. royal and i have talked over the matter very carefully, and we can see no harm in what is taking place. the captain has taken a remarkable fancy to the boy, and i know for certain that rodney has received no harm from him. on the contrary, he has been benefited, for the captain has taught him many useful things. "as for his lessons, i wish to inform you all that rodney has never neglected them, and you know as well as i do that he stands at the head of his class. he studies his catechism, as well, which is more than i can say of most of the boys in this parish. i ought to know, as i have taught a class in the sunday school for years. we had one boy of our own, remember," here her voice became low, "and in our mistaken zeal for his welfare we intended to make him a model of perfection. instead of studying him, we studied ourselves. we never considered the nature of the child at all. we looked upon him as mere clay in our hands, and we tried to mould him in our own way. when, alas, it was too late we found that he had a will of his own, and when he became old enough he rebelled at our restrictions, and, oh, well, you know the rest. now, we do not intend to make the same mistake with rodney. he is a boy, with all the strange impulses of a boy's restless nature. what you have called evil in him, is merely childish enthusiasm. he is bubbling over with energy. it is our earnest desire to guide him along right channels, and not to break his will. whether we shall do that or not, remains to be seen. most of you women here are mothers, and know the responsibility of bringing up children. i do not interfere with you, and i now ask you to be as considerate toward us. i trust that henceforth all criticism will cease, especially at these meetings, where we are gathered together to carry on the lord's work." when mrs. royal finished there was intense silence, and for once garrulous tongues were still. all felt that the rebuke was just, though it made them very angry. they were greatly surprised at mrs. royal's boldness, as they had never heard her speak in such a decided way before. when at last they did find their voices, they talked of other things, and during the rest of the afternoon they never alluded to what the rector's wife had said. but when once away from the meeting some of the women gave their tongues free scope, especially mrs. harmon, who felt keenly what mrs. royal had said. "i was never so mortified and offended in all my life," she confided to miss arabella, as they walked along the road together. "just think of her talking that way, and she a clergyman's wife, too." "umph!" and miss arabella tilted her nose higher than ever, "she talked mighty big to-day, but she'll find out her mistake sooner than she expects. just think what she said about that horrid old captain, who can't speak a civil word to any one. why, he swears awful. i heard him say 'dang hang it' one time, and a man who uses such language as that is not a fit companion for a little boy." little did captain josh and rod care what people said. though months had now passed into years, their friendship was as firm as ever. happy were they in each other's company, and many were the trips they made up and down the river in the _roaring bess_. the captain had sturgeon nets in a cove five miles away from his own shore. twice a day he visited these, and when rod was on hand he went with him. the boy was always interested in the big fish which were often caught, and when they were sometimes tethered in the shallow water near the anchorage he felt sorry for the poor creatures. "i wonder if they mind it," he once remarked to the captain. "do you suppose they think of their little baby sturgeons, and how they are getting along?" "guess they don't bother much about it, lad," was the reply. "they haven't enough sense fer that. they are like a lot of people who are willin' to be led around by the nose jist like that big feller out there. he is always swimmin' around, but he gits nowhere. he soon comes to the end of his rope, and yet he keeps on swimmin' the same as before." the day this conversation took place, the wind was blowing in strong from the northwest, and the captain was making ready for a trip to his nets. soon the boat was speeding up the river, with her sail full spread to the stiff breeze. having reached the cove and taken a number of fish from the nets, they began to beat homeward. by this time the wind had increased in strength, and as they ran backwards and forwards across the river, they were continually washed by the waves which raced to meet them. "isn't this great!" rod exclaimed, as he nestled in the cock-pit, and held on firmly lest he should be swept overboard. "i was never out in such a breeze as this before." the captain made no reply, though he gave a quick glance at the boy's animated face. if rod had been frightened, the old seaman would have been terribly disappointed. as for himself he was in his element, and he was reminded of the many times he had faced rough weather out on the mighty deep. the howling of the wind, and the dashing waves made the sweetest of music in his ears, and he was delighted that the boy, on whom he had set his affections, should feel as he did. they had just tacked and begun beating to the left, when the captain, glancing down the river, gave a start of surprise, and pointed with his finger to a small yacht in mid-stream, which was having a hard time in the wind. "she's got too much sail fer a breeze like this," he remarked. "if she isn't well managed, she'll go over. now, look at that!" he cried, grasping the tiller with a firmer grip, so as to be ready for any sudden emergency. "my, that was a close call. a little more and she'd a been on her beam ends." hardly had he finished speaking, when a furious squall struck the staggering yacht, and like a wounded eagle she reeled, and flopped her big sail into the rough water. with a roar which might have been heard a long distance off, the captain brought the _roaring bess_ almost up to the teeth of the wind, and headed her for the wreck. how her sharp prow did tear through the waves, and at times she was almost smothered by the leaping water. but this course would not bring them to the overturned boat. it was necessary for them to tack once more, and as they drew near they could see people clinging frantically to the half-submerged yacht. the captain gave a loud shout of encouragement when he came within speaking distance. with much skill he handled his boat, and told rod to be ready to give a hand when needed. with the _roaring bess_ brought right up to the wind, she soon drifted alongside of the overturned yacht. there were five persons in the water, three men and two women. with much difficulty the latter were dragged on board, and then the men followed. this accomplished, without a word the captain headed his boat for the shore, while the drenched persons huddled in the cock-pit close to rod. the latter had not been idle during this exciting rescue. he had taken a prominent part in helping the women on board, as the captain had been busy managing the yacht. but now he crouched back in his corner, somewhat abashed in the presence of the strangers. he watched them, nevertheless, especially the younger of the two women, a girl with a very beautiful face. her long golden hair was tossed wildly about, and at times a shiver shook her body. but her eyes attracted him more than anything else. they were dark eyes, filled with an expression of tenderness and sympathy. when she turned them upon rod his heart gave a bound such as he had never experienced before. at that moment there was nothing he would not have done for her sake. he longed for something to happen that he might show her how brave he was, and that he might seem a hero in her eyes. nothing unusual happened, however, for captain josh steered the boat through all dangers, and drew up at last near the shore in front of his own house. then to rod's surprise the strange men lifted the girl carefully out of the yacht into the tender, and when they had reached the shore, one of the men carried her in his arms up to the anchorage. "too bad she got hurt," rod mused, as he walked home, for it was getting late. "i wonder what happened to her." that evening he told parson dan and mrs. royal all about his experience that afternoon, the wreck, and the girl who had been carried into the house. "i must go over in the morning and learn all about it," the clergyman remarked when he had heard the story. "there may be something that i can do to help." rod lay awake for a long time that night. he could not get the girl with the golden hair and wonderful eyes out of his mind. when at last he did go to sleep, he dreamed that she was struggling in the water, and that he had jumped off the _roaring bess_ to save her. chapter ix whyn next morning parson dan and rod started for the anchorage. rod was more quiet than usual, and walked along the road without any of his ordinary capers. his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes shone with excitement. his steps, too, were quick, and his companion found it difficult to keep pace with him. it was quite evident that he was in a hurry to see the girl who had been rescued from the river the previous day. nearing the house, they heard some one hammering in the workshop. there they found the captain busily engaged upon something which looked like a chair. "good morning, captain," was the parson's cheery greeting. "you've turned carpenter, so i see." "poof!" and the captain, gave a vigorous rap upon a nail he was driving into place, "it's necessary to be every dang thing these days, with the world so full of idiots. it's good there's somebody who kin turn his hand to anything. it's the fools who make so much work fer honest folks." "why, what's up now?" the parson queried. "ye'd better ask 'what's down?' it's that little lass in yon, down in bed, because some numb-skulls thought they could sail a boat. i told 'em this mornin' what i thought of 'em fer takin' a gal like that out on the water, an' they went off in a huff." "how is she this morning, captain? rodney told me all about the accident, and so we have come to make inquiries." "oh, she's all right, considerin' what she went through. she's all clewed down now and ridin' easy. guess she'll be there fer some time. want to see her?" "yes, if she's able to be seen." "able! why, she's the fittest one of the bunch as fer as her mind is concerned. i want to git this chair fixed up fer her as soon as possible. go right in. i guess ye'll find betsey in the kitchen." mrs. britt pleasantly received her visitors, and introduced the clergyman to mrs. sinclair. the latter was a woman of striking appearance. her face, of considerable strength and refinement, was marked by lines of care. but it was her eyes which attracted parson dan's special attention as he shook hands with her, and inquired after her daughter. "oh, whyn came out of the affair the best of all," and a smile illumined mrs. sinclair's face. "i was greatly worried about her last night, but she seems none the worse for her experience. would you like to see her? i am afraid you will find her a regular little chatter-box." mrs. sinclair said not a word to rod, in fact she had hardly noticed him. he remained standing in the middle of the room after the others had left, twirling his cap in his nervous hands. he wanted to see the girl, too, but he had not been invited, and he felt indignant. he had the first right to go, so he told himself, for he had helped to rescue her. he thought of going out to the workshop and talking it all over with the captain. he dismissed the idea, however, and perching himself upon a chair, waited to see what would happen. it seemed a long time to him before the others came out of the girl's room, but in reality it was only a few minutes. there was a smile upon the clergyman's face as he turned to the boy. "you're the favoured one this morning, rodney," he said. "the princess wants to see you. she hasn't much use for us older people." this was astonishing news to rod, and his knees felt weak as he walked across the floor, and entered the room. he paused when just inside, and stared in amazement at the vision before him. there, lying upon a little cot, was the most wonderful person he had ever beheld. could it be possible that this was the same girl he had seen all drenched with water the day before? her hair was flowing over the white pillow like a shining stream of gold. at this moment it was touched by the sun from the southeast window, which added much to the entrancing effect. and then those eyes! they seemed to read him through and through. but they were laughing eyes now, sparkling with interest and amusement. rod stood very still, uncertain what to do. so this wonderful girl was a princess, he said to himself. he never dreamed of such a thing when he first saw her the day before. he knew something about princes and princesses, for mrs. royal had often read to him stories about such people. so this girl was one of them. he had no doubt about it, for parson dan had called her a princess. what should he do? the books told how people got down on their knees to princesses, and kissed their hands. ah, that was the right thing for him to do now. stepping quickly forward, he knelt by the side of the bed, and seizing the girl's right hand which was lying upon the counterpane, he pressed it to his lips. a merry ringing laugh followed this action, which caused rod to start and lift his head. was the princess laughing at him? perhaps he had made some foolish blunder, and she was making fun of him. "oh, you queer boy, what did you do that for?" and again the girl laughed. "didn't i do it right?" rod asked, as he sprang to his feet and stood straight before her. "do what right?" and the girl looked her surprise. "kneel, and kiss your hand. they all do that." "all who?" "the people in the stories. they always kiss the hand of a princess when they meet her." "but i'm not a princess." "you're not! grandad said you are, and i guess he knows." "ho, ho, isn't that funny?" and the girl's hearty laugh again rang out. "i'm no princess; i'm just plain whyn sinclair. your grandfather must have been joking. it must be nice to have a grandfather like that. his eyes are just full of fun. sit down, and tell me about him." "he isn't my grandfather," rod replied, as he took his position upon the edge of a chair close to the bed. he was feeling more at home now in the presence of this beautiful girl, since she was not a princess. "he isn't your grandfather!" "no. i haven't any real grandfather, and i never saw my father or mother." "you didn't! oh, you poor boy." "no. i'm only a waif, that's what they call me. i was left at the door of the rectory one night a long time ago when i was a little baby, and mr. and mrs. royal have taken care of me ever since." "how lovely!" and whyn clasped her thin white hands together. "lovely! what do you mean?" "oh, it's so romantic." "what's that?" "just like you read about in stories. maybe your father and mother are a real prince and princess, or some other great persons, and you were stolen away from them when you were a baby by cruel people. what a story that will make. i shall write about it at once." "a story!" and rod's eyes opened wide in surprise. "what are you going to write?" "you see, i'm an authoress, or rather, i'm going to be one some day. i lie in bed and think out such lovely stories. but this is something real, not a bit like the others. i am going to make so much money, that i shall be able to help mamma, and she won't have to worry as she does." "what makes her worry?" rod queried. "she worries about me. i can't walk, and have to lie in bed all the time. it costs so much for doctors' bills, and though mamma never says a word to me, i can tell what's troubling her. now, i have a secret, and i am going to tell it to you, if you promise that you won't say a word to any one about it." "what is it?" "you won't tell?" "don't know until i hear what it is." "oh, well, i'll have to keep it to myself, then," and the girl gave a sigh of disappointment. "i was hoping that you would promise, for it would be so nice to relieve my mind by telling some one." "maybe i'll promise afterwards," rod replied. "that might do," whyn mused, as she lay very still and looked far off through the window. "yes, i guess that will do. you see, i once heard the doctor in the city say that i must go to a specialist, and maybe he could cure me." "what's a specialist?" rod questioned. "i never heard of it before." "it's a doctor in some big city like new york, who knows so much. he might be able to make me better, if i could only go to see him." "why don't you go, then?" "i can't," and a slight shade passed over the girl's sunny face. "it takes a lot of money, and we are poor. mamma plays the organ in st. barnabas church on sundays, and gives music lessons through the week. but it takes so much to pay doctor bills." "where's your father?" rod asked. "he's dead. he died when i was a little baby." "oh!" rod was all sympathy now. so this girl was an orphan, something like himself, with a mother but no father. "i have one brother," whyn explained. "he is older than i am. he is at ottawa now, working for the government. he helps us all he can, but he has been there such a short time that he can't do much yet. he will after awhile, though, for douglas is so good." "is that your brother's name?" "yes. i miss him so much, for we always played together, and he used to read to me, and wheel me about the house." "have you told him your secret?" rod inquired. "not yet. i want to surprise him. you see," here she lowered her voice, and glanced toward the door, "i am going to write a story." "oh!" rod's eyes grew suddenly big. "yes, a real story, which has been in my mind for some time. i am going to change it now and bring you into it. there were some parts i could not work out, but now i know. i shall make you a boy scout, a patrol leader, who rescues a cripple girl from the river." "what's a boy scout?" rod queried. "didn't you ever hear of the scouts?" and whyn looked her surprise. "no. never heard of them before." "well, isn't that funny, and you a boy, too." "guess they can't be much," rod replied, somewhat nettled. "grandad and captain josh know about most everything, and if they haven't heard of them they can't be of much account." "but they are," whyn insisted. "douglas was a patrol leader, and he told me what they did. they met in the school-room of our church, and had such a great time. they had a supper, too; every month, and when that was over they sang songs and played games." "is that all they did?" "oh, no. they had to work hard, for they had to learn so many things. to get the tenderfoot badge, they had to know the scout law, how to tie knots, and a whole lot about the flag." "h'm, i guess i know about knots," and rod gave his head a superior toss. "captain josh taught me about them." "but did he teach you how to help people who cut themselves, or break their arms, or if some one falls into the water, how to bring him back to life?" "why, no! can the scouts do that?" "sure they can. i know of a scout who jumped off a wharf, and rescued a little girl. when he had her out of the water he brought her back to life, when everybody else thought that she was dead." "gee!" it was all that rod could say, for he was becoming deeply interested now. "and they learn more than that," whyn continued. "they talk with flags." "talk with flags! i never heard of flags talking, and i don't believe it." "oh, i don't mean that flags talk," and whyn laughed outright. "the scouts use flags for talking to one another when they are some distance apart; it is called 'signalling.'" "how do they do it?" "well, one boy will stand, say on a hill, while another is somewhere else, and each has two little flags. they wave these and whichever way a flag is waved it means a letter. i did know all the letters myself once, for douglas taught me. in that way the scouts can talk with one another as far as they can see. soldiers send messages that way, so i understand, and they can warn one another when an enemy is near." "my, i would like to know that," and rod gave a deep sigh. "i wonder if captain josh knows anything about it. i am going to ask him, anyway." "there are many other things the scouts have to learn," whyn explained, "and they are very important." "what are they?" "i don't exactly know. but there is a book which tells all about them. douglas told me that a scout must do a good turn every day." "what's that?" "it is to do a kind act of some kind. i know of one boy who looked after the baby so that his mother could go out for awhile. another rescued a poor little kitten from some cruel boys who were teasing it. when i write my story with you in it, your good turn will be the rescuing a girl from the water just like you did yesterday. i hope to sell the story and make so much money that i shall be able to go to the specialist in new york." "what are you going to call the boy?" rod asked. "i haven't decided yet. maybe i shall call him rod; wouldn't that be nice?" "how did you know that was my name?" "mrs. britt told me this morning before you came." "did you ask her?" "yes." rod's heart gave a little flutter of pleasure. so this beautiful girl had been thinking of him, and had even asked about his name. it made him feel happy all over. just then parson dan appeared in the doorway. "my, what a great talking time you young people have had," he exclaimed. "here i have been waiting for you, sir, ever so long," and he laid his hand affectionately upon the boy's shoulder. "i hope he hasn't tired you, dear," he continued, turning toward whyn. "oh, no," was the eager reply. "we have had such a lovely time. may be come again soon?" "certainly. i know it will give him great pleasure." as they were leaving, rod went close to whyn and whispered: "i'm going to be a scout, and get captain josh to help." "how nice," and the girl's smile of encouragement followed him as he left the room. chapter x his first "good turn" rod was greatly excited over what whyn had told him about the boy scouts, and on the way home he plied parson dan with numerous questions. "didn't you ever hear of them before, grandad?" he asked. "yes, rodney, i did," was the reply. "but there are so many things taking place in the cities these days that it is hard for an old man like me to keep run of them all. if i were younger i might be able to do something. but in the country where the boys are so scattered, i am afraid that it would be a difficult undertaking to form a band of scouts." "well, i am going to be a scout, anyway," rod declared. "i want to learn how to bring a drowned man back to life, and to talk with flags. oh, it must be great to do that! how can i learn, grandad?" "there must be books which explain such things," the clergyman replied. "shall i write to the city to find out?" "oh, will you, grandad?" and rod fairly danced with joy, and his eyes sparkled with excitement. "will you write at once?" "yes, dear. i shall write the letter this evening, and it will go down on monday." "when will the book come?" "it should be here by wednesday." "oh!" "but, remember, rodney, you must not let this scout idea interfere with your school lessons." "no, grandad, i won't. i will study hard and fast so that i can read my scout book." parson dan smiled as he watched the lad's enthusiasm. he thought, too, of another boy, who also had been full of life and fun, but who had been unnaturally checked when he should have been directed and led aright. he now realised only too well what a mistake had been made with alec, and he was determined that the same should not be the case with rodney. the following days were very long ones to rod. it seemed as if wednesday would never come. he thought over everything whyn had told him about the scouts, and wearied mrs. royal by telling her over and over again what he intended to do when the book arrived. he had not seen whyn since saturday, but was looking eagerly forward to seeing her as soon as he had his precious book. rod hurried home from school on wednesday, certain that his treasure would be awaiting him. he did not dally along the road looking for birds' nests as was his usual custom. neither did the butterflies interest him. he had something more important on hand, which absorbed all of his attention. he had almost reached the rectory gate, when an automobile whizzed past, half-smothering him in a cloud of dust. this was a common occurrence during the summer months, and he paid little attention to the annoyance. the car had gone but a short distance, however, when a horse, driven by miss arabella simpkins, took fright, reared, wheeled, upset the carriage, and threw the driver into the ditch. the terrified animal then bolted down the road dragging the overturned carriage after it. the men in the car were greatly concerned over the accident. they picked up the apparently unconscious woman, and found that blood was streaming from her nose. seeing rod standing near, they asked him who the woman was, and where she lived. "she's miss arabella," was the reply. "guess her nose is hurt. captain josh said if ever she got into an accident it would be the first thing that would get smashed, 'cos it's so long, and is always poking into other people's affairs." the three men looked keenly at the boy, and then at one another, while the faint semblance of a smile lurked about the corners of their mouths. "we must get her home at once," one of them remarked. "is there a doctor anywhere near, boy?" "the doctor lives five miles down the road," rod replied. "but i guess we don't need him. just wait a minute. i know what will stop that bleeding." with that, he sprang across the ditch, hurried through the garden, and entered the rectory. presently he reappeared, carrying something in his hand, which proved to be a key. going at once to the prostrate woman, who was lying upon the grass, he told the men to lift her up. when this was done, he quickly slipped the key down the back of her neck. "there, i guess that'll stop the bleeding," he panted. hardly were the words out of his mouth, when miss arabella leaped to her feet. "a snake! a snake!" she yelled. "it's gone down my neck!" with much difficulty the men soothed her excitement, telling her that there was nothing the matter. at last they induced her to enter the auto, and soon she was being borne rapidly to her home. rod remained for a few seconds staring after them, while an amused twinkle shone in his eyes. "she thought it was a snake, ho, ho. won't captain josh laugh when i tell him that? i didn't mean any harm, though. i just wanted to do a good turn. guess that was something that a scout would do." about half an hour after this incident, parson dan arrived home, stabled his horse, and went into the rectory. he found mrs. royal in her little sewing-room on the north side of the house, busily engaged upon some of the ladies' aid work. she smiled as her husband entered. "i was afraid you would be late, daniel," she remarked. "i drove hard," was the reply, "for i never like to keep a wedding waiting. i believe that i have ten minutes to spare, so i shall take a glance at the marriage service. it is so seldom we have a wedding that i am a little rusty." "won't you have a cup of tea, daniel?" his wife asked. "it might freshen you up a bit." "no, dear, not now. just as soon as i look over the service, i shall go into the church to have everything ready." he was gone but a few minutes when he returned, with an anxious expression upon his face. "have you seen the key of the church, martha?" he asked. "i cannot find it anywhere." "it must be in its usual place, daniel. it always hangs there, and no one ever thinks of touching it but yourself." "well, it's not there now, and i have hunted all through the study." mrs. royal at once arose, and began to assist her husband in his search for the missing key. all their efforts were in vain, however, and before they were through the wedding party arrived. this was most embarrassing, for the ones who had come to be married were very particular, and would resent any delay. if they could not get into the church they were sure to be angry, for it would make them the laughing-stock of the entire parish. "what shall we do!" mrs. royal gasped, as she glanced out of the window at the teams drawn up before the church. "can't you force the door, daniel?" "no. it would take a blacksmith to do that. and, besides, i wouldn't allow it for any consideration. it would be terrible." "why not hold the wedding in the rectory, then?" mrs. royal suggested. "perhaps they wouldn't mind under the circumstances." "wouldn't mind! don't you know the sanders well enough to realise what they would do and say? haven't they been planning for a 'church wedding' for months? here come more teams. what in the world shall we do!" and the parson drew forth his handkerchief, and mopped his perspiring brow. "there must be only one person who knows where that key is," mrs. royal thoughtfully remarked. "and who is that?" "rodney. if you didn't remove it, he must have done so." "where is he?" and the clergyman looked around as if expecting to see him appear. "i do not know, daniel. he always comes to see me when he returns from school, but i have not seen him this afternoon. that scout book came this morning, and he may be lost in that." "but he is not in the house, martha. i have boon all over the place and have not seen him." "is the book there?" his wife asked. "i left it on the dining-room table." "i didn't see any book. but, hark, there is some one at the door. they're after me to attend the wedding, and what shall i say! how can i explain!" and the parson started to go to the door. "wait, daniel," his wife called. "if the book is gone, rodney must have taken it over to show it to captain josh, for he said he was going to do that just as soon as it came." "but why should he take the key, martha?" and the parson turned his despairing face upon hers. "i do not know, daniel. but you had better send some one after him at once. he may know something about it." in the meantime the doorbell had been ringing furiously, and when parson dan at last opened it, he was confronted by several excited men, among whom was the bridegroom. "what's wrong, parson?" ned percher cried. "we've been waitin' out here fer some time. the church is locked, and the people are gettin' impatient." "i can't find the key, ned, that's what's the trouble," the parson explained. "can't find the key!" came in a chorus from all. "no. it's gone, and the only person who must know about it is rodney, and i believe he's over at captain josh's." the groom, a thick-set, red-faced man, now stepped forward. "d'ye think this is the right way to treat me, parson?" he demanded. "haven't i been always one of your best church members, and now when i'm to be married, ye lock the church against me, and say that the key is lost. what will susie think? i'd like to know. she'll never get over the disgrace." "you are not half as sorry as i am," parson dan replied as calmly as possible. "i am deeply mortified that such a thing should have happened. but talking will not mend matters now. the key must be found, so if one of you will hurry over to the anchorage, and bring rodney back, i shall be greatly obliged." ned percher at once volunteered to go, and soon he was speeding for the captain's house by a short-cut through the field. there was nothing else for the rest to do but to wait in front of the rectory until the messenger should return with the boy. the bride was greatly disturbed over the delay. so overcome was she with the excitement that she had to be carried into the house, where she lay upon the sitting-room sofa, quite hysterical. the women who gathered around her by no means restrained their tongues, thus making the young bride feel as badly as possible. several expressed their opinion of the clergyman for allowing such a thing to happen. it was another example, so they said, of the mistake he had made in bringing up a child of whose parents he knew nothing. they had said so before, and were now more firmly convinced than ever. others told what it meant for a wedding to be delayed right at the church door, and related a number of cases where ill luck had followed such weddings. thus, by the time ned percher arrived, with rod close at his heels, the bride was almost in a state of nervous collapse. during this time of waiting parson dan spoke to no one. he knew that the less he now said the better it would be. his face had lost its usual genial expression, and his eyes no longer twinkled with humour. he was feeling very keenly the whole unfortunate affair. never before during the whole course of his entire ministry had such a thing occurred. he had often boasted that he had never once been late for a service, nor had he kept people waiting at either a funeral or a wedding. he stood with his face turned up the road, and a sigh of relief at last escaped his lips when he saw rod coming toward him. the boy was greatly surprised to see so many teams and people in front of the rectory, for ned would tell him nothing of what was taking place. he was astonished, as well, when he observed the worried look upon the parson's face. but he had no time for questions just then, for the clergyman laid a heavy hand upon the lad's shoulder, and demanded if he knew what had become of the key of the church. instantly the cause of the excitement flashed upon rod's mind. his face became pale, and he glanced nervously around upon the men who had gathered near. "do you hear me?" the parson again demanded. "do you know anything about that key?" "yes, grandad, i do," was the trembling reply. "where is it, then?" "it's down miss arabella's neck." "down miss arabella's neck!" the clergyman repeated in profound astonishment. "what do you mean?" "she got hurt, grandad, and her nose was bleeding, so i dropped the key down her neck. captain josh said that was the best thing to stop a bleeding nose." for an instant parson dan glared at the little lad before him. then his face softened, and as amused light shone in his eyes as the humorous side of the situation dawned upon him. he longed to laugh outright, and give the culprit before him a big hug. but he had to control his feelings in the presence of all the people, who saw nothing funny about the matter. "look here, rodney," he said, "you go after that key as fast as your legs will carry you." "yes, grandad, i will," and rod was off like a shot, glad to be free from the staring crowd. so once more the wedding was delayed, and the murmurs of the waiting people increased. chapter xi miss arabella's "affair" it was the lot of miss arabella simpkins to have lived for over forty years without one real affair of the heart. there were reasons for this, well known to all the people of hillcrest. not only had her father, a lumberman of considerable repute in his day, been very particular as to the young men who visited the house, but miss arabella herself was the chief objection. she was by no means handsome, and in addition she was possessed of a sharp tongue, and, as captain josh truly said, "a long nose which was always prying into other people's business." these frailties naturally increased as she grew older until she became a dread not only to her brother, tom, but to all her neighbours, especially the children. she had two redeeming features, however: a generous heart for those she liked, and considerable money. this latter had its influence, and made her tolerated in the company of others, where she was indulged with a certain amount of good humour. but a real romance had never come into miss arabella's life, and this was her great trial. no suitor had ever sought her out, and with languishing eyes had watched her as she moved among the other maidens of the parish. friends of her girlhood days had been more fortunate. they were married, and had families around them, while she alone had been left "like the last rose of summer," as she often told herself. but miss arabella never let people know about her trial. on the contrary, she wished them to believe that her heart had once been won by a handsome and gallant young man. just what had become of him, or what had occurred to cause the separation, she would never tell, and only hinted mysteriously with a deep sigh whenever the subject of matrimony was discussed. people knowing her, always smiled, and among themselves often spoke of miss arabella's "affair." the simpkins' house was close to the river, and about a quarter of a mile from the rectory by means of a short-cut through the field, though much longer by the main highway. rod took the short route, and in a few minutes reached the place. his heart beat fast as he drew near, for he dreaded meeting miss arabella, whose sharp tongue he had good reason to fear. tom simpkins met him at the door, and ushered him into the sitting-room where miss arabella was lying upon a sofa near the window. she was somewhat paler than usual, and very weak. a look of disappointment appeared upon her face as the door opened and rod entered. "oh, it's only you," she complained. "what brought you here?" "i came for the key, miss arabella," rod pantingly explained, keeping as close to the door as possible. "h'm, i should think you would not only be afraid but ashamed to come near me after doing such a mean thing as you did this afternoon," and the invalid fixed her piercing eyes upon the boy. "w-what did i do?" rod stammered. "do! didn't you put that key down my neck, which gave me such a terrible shock?" "but it brought you back to life, miss arabella, and it stopped your nose bleeding. captain josh said that was the best thing to do, and i guess he was right." "oh, that was what you did it for, was it?" "sure. i never thought of scaring you. i only wanted to do a good turn, that's all." "but what did you say such things about my nose for, tell me that?" "why, did you hear me? i thought you didn't know anything." "then you were mistaken. i heard and knew more than you imagined." "the men thought that you were almost dead, miss arabella, and they felt very bad." "did they?" the woman questioned, and her voice was softer than usual. then she remained silent for a few seconds, looking absently before her. "see here, rod," and she smiled upon the boy for the first time in her life, "i will forgive you for what you said about my nose if you will tell me something." "what is it?" "you remember that fine looking man, with the blue eyes, and hair streaked with grey." "can't say that i do, miss arabella." "he was the one who held me in his arms while you dropped that horrid key down my neck." "oh, yes, i know now." "well, rod, do you think he cared much that i was hurt?" "yes, i think he did." "are you sure?" "yes. he looked awful scared when you tumbled into the ditch." "ah, i knew it," and the invalid closed her eyes, while a smile overspread her face. "i felt from the first that he cared," she murmured. then she lay so perfectly still that rod thought she had fainted. he stepped to her side, and touched her hand. "miss arabella," he began, "have you fainted?" "oh, i thought that he was standing by my side," she simpered. "i must have been dreaming." "no, it's only me, and i would like to have the key. they can't have the wedding till i get back." "what wedding?" and the invalid sat suddenly bolt upright. "why, bill stebbins and susie sanders want to get married, and they can't get into the church 'cos you have the key down your neck." "a wedding! what thoughts of bliss come to my mind at that word," and miss arabella clasped her hands, while her eyes rolled up to the ceiling. rod was now becoming very impatient. he thought of the crowd waiting before the rectory, and parson dan's anxiety. "the key, miss arabella," he insisted. "will you please----" "and you think he cared?" the woman interrupted. "yes. but, miss----" "and did he look at me much with those splendid blue eyes?" "i think he did, miss arabella. but will you please give me the key. they are waiting----" "and do you think he will come back, rod? he said that he would return soon. but men are so fickle." a new idea suddenly shot into rod's mind. "give me the key, miss arabella, and i will go after that man. it will be my good turn." "oh, will you?" and the woman's face lighted up with joy. "don't tell him that i sent you." "no, i won't. but the key, where is it? if it's down your neck, i'll go out of the room until you find it." "and you will hurry, rod?" "yes, yes, but----" "and you think you can find him?" "i'll try if you'll give me the key, miss arabella. but if you keep me waiting any longer i won't go one step." "well, it's on that shelf over there. take it, and hurry." rod wasted no time. he sprang for the key, seized it, and darted out of the room. over the field he sped as fast as his nimble feet would carry him, and never paused until he had handed it to the anxiously waiting clergyman. having performed this task, rod turned his attention to miss arabella's "man." the wedding was of little interest to him, so he strolled down the road with not the least idea how he was going to bring back that man with the "splendid blue eyes." with hands thrust deep into his pockets he walked along whistling a merry tune. his mind was really upon whyn, and the book he had left at the anchorage. he would much rather have gone back there, but he knew that he must do his duty to the love-sick woman first. he had not gone very far ere he saw a man coming toward him, leading a horse, which he knew to be the one which had run away. he recognised the man, and he was overjoyed at seeing him. "hello! have you come to give a hand?" the man accosted as he drew near. "yes, sir. i was looking for you," rod replied, as he walked along by the man's side. "thought i had run away with the horse, did you? well, we had a hard chase, but found her at last, with the wagon all smashed to bits. we tried to lead the horse behind the car, but couldn't get her anywhere near it, so i had to foot it the whole way." "miss arabella will be glad to see you, sir." "will she, eh? i suppose there'll be the old harry to pay. you said something about her tongue, didn't you? i expect to know more of it shortly." "oh, she won't scold you, sir. she thinks a lot of you." "of me?" "yes, sir. she thinks you are great. i really believe she is in love with you, that's all." "whew!" and the man whistled softly, while an amused light shone in his eyes. "did she send you after me?" he inquired. "i promised, sir, that i wouldn't tell." "oh, i see," and the man relapsed into silence. a picture of miss arabella's angular figure, thin face, and long sharp nose rose before him. and to think that she was in love with him! it was almost too good to be true, and he longed to laugh outright. what a story he would have to relate when he got home. miss arabella was lying just where rod had left her when john markham and the boy entered. she gave a little squeak of joy when the stranger stepped to her side. "i knew you would come back," she murmured. "i was certain that you would not forsake me." "not until i had found the horse, madam," was the reply. "i regret very much that the wagon is broken, but i shall make good your loss." "don't mention such a thing," and the invalid feebly waved her thin hands. "such material matters don't count for anything to a heart over-flowing with gratitude." "yes, you were most fortunate to escape as you did, madam. you might have been seriously injured, nay, you might have been killed, and so i can understand how grateful you must feel." "oh, i don't mean that," and miss arabella raised her soulful eyes to the man's face. "i am so thankful that you have come back." "you didn't imagine that i would run away with your horse, did you, madam? she is certainly a fine beast, and it is lucky that she did not receive any serious damage. i am much pleased that i have been able to deliver her to you with so few scratches upon her. a little treatment will make her all right. you will find bickmore's gall cure very good." "it's not that, not that, i assure you," and again miss arabella flapped her hands in agony of soul. "what does a horse amount to when the heart is affected?" "oh, is that what's the matter?" and mr. markham assumed an expression of great solicitude. "it was the fall, no doubt, which did it. have you had trouble there before?" "it wasn't the fall that caused it," and miss arabella covered her face with her hand. "it goes deeper than that." "dear me, madam, you must certainly see the doctor. it is very serious, and you must not delay any longer. i believe the doctor lives down the road. shall i call on him on my way home, and tell him to come at once?" before miss arabella could reply, a raucous honk outside arrested their attention. "it's merely the car," mr. markham explained. "i must be going now." "what, so soon? must you leave me again?" and the invalid raised her eyes appealingly to the man's face. "yes, i must be off. my wife will be wondering what----" "your wife!" miss arabella shrieked, sitting bolt upright. "do you tell me that you have a wife!" "certainly. she is waiting for me with some friends down the road. several of us men took a spin this afternoon so that the women could have a little chat together. it is getting late now, and we must hurry back to the city. this accident has delayed us. so, good-bye, madam. i trust you soon will be well. i shall see about the carriage at once." with that, he left the house, closely followed by rod, leaving miss arabella speechless upon the sofa. chapter xii scout work two weeks after the scout book arrived the hillcrest troop of boy scouts was formed, with captain josh as scoutmaster, and rod as patrol leader. whyn had much to do with this, and her enthusiasm inspired and encouraged the others. news soon spread among the rest of the boys in the parish of what was taking place, and it was not long before several more asked to become members. the scout commissioner and the secretary of the province visited hillcrest, explained many things, and started the work along proper lines. deep in his heart captain josh was delighted with the boys. they no longer feared him, though he was as gruff as ever. but they soon found that this gruffness was only on the surface, and that in reality he was deeply interested in their welfare. he studied the scout book thoroughly until he knew it from cover to cover. he was determined that his troop, even though it was known as the "lone patrol," was to be well trained, and a credit to the parish. he did not wish to have too many boys at first, but to drill the ones he had chosen until they were proficient in every part of the scout work. whenever the captain was in doubt as to what he should do, he always consulted with whyn, for he found that she had excellent ideas, and remembered so much of what her brother douglas had told her. her joy was even greater than the captain's when she learned that a troop was to be formed, and she planned all sorts of things for the boys to do. just as the work was well under way, mrs. sinclair informed the britts that she and whyn must leave for the city. she had her work to do there without which they could not live. then it was that the captain showed his hand. he had been thinking over this very matter for some time, and had discussed it with his wife. "let whyn stay with us, mrs. sinclair," he suggested. "i do not see how we can get along without her." "but i cannot afford that, captain," the widow replied. "can't afford what?" "to pay her board." "who said anything about paying?" the captain demanded. "she's worth more than her board any day. we don't want any money. if ye'll let her stay with us we'll be quite willin' to pay you something fer her. we need her, and so do the scouts. it'll be a shame to take her back to that stuffy city at this time of the year." "but what shall i do without her?" mrs. sinclair asked. "she is all i have near me, and i shall miss her so much if she remains with you." "you can come and see her as often as you like," mrs. britt replied. "we shall be so glad to have you." and so it was arranged that whyn was to stay for several weeks at least, and the girl was delighted when she heard the news. "you are the dearest and best people in the world, excepting mamma," she told the captain and mrs. britt. "it is so nice to be here, and when i know that mamma can come to see me often i do not mind staying." "but ye'll have to behave yerself, young woman," the captain replied. "no more lyin' awake at night, remember, worryin' about the scouts. and ye've got to eat more than ye have in the past." "oh, no fear of that," and whyn laughed merrily. "i am going to eat so much that you will be glad to send me away." it did not take the captain long to get the scouts down to steady work. as the holidays were now on they often met during the afternoons, when the captain drilled them in marching, instructed them about the flag, and taught them how to tie a number of knots. it was necessary for them to know such things before they could obtain the tenderfoot badges. they had to learn the scout law as well. it was not all work, however, for the captain often took the boys for delightful spins upon the river in the _roaring bess_, and soon all the scouts were able to handle the yacht in a creditable manner. it soon became evident that they must have a building of their own where they could meet on wet days. the commissioner had told them that there was nothing like a club-room for their meetings. the captain had been thinking this over for some time, and at last offered the use of an old rafting shanty near the shore, and which could be easily seen from whyn's window. this building was fairly large, made of boards, and the roof covered with tarred paper. it was well lighted by four windows, which showed up the dirty condition of the room in an alarming manner when the captain and the boys first inspected the place. there were remnants of old bunks, tables and chairs, while broken boxes were scattered about. but after two days of steady work a great change took place. the boys were willing and eager, and inspired by the captain they toiled until their backs ached. holes in the roof were patched, the broken door mended, several chairs were brought from the boys' homes, and when all was done they were delighted at what they had accomplished. they now no longer dreaded wet days, for they had a place to meet where they could carry on their work to their hearts' content. the captain had two good flags, which he placed upon the wall, and the boys brought magazine pictures, and tacked them around the room. in this way the place was made very cosy. whyn was delighted with the progress which the scouts made upon their club-room, which she called "headquarters." she could see it from her window, and often she would sit and watch as the boys worked around the building, cutting down some of the underbrush, and cleaning up the ground. when their work was done they always came to her room, and talked over everything with her. at first some of the boys had been quite shy and diffident in whyn's presence. but this soon wore away, and they all became the firmest of friends. there was nothing the scouts would not do for the invalid girl, and when they were in doubt about anything it was always to her they turned to help them out of their difficulty. she knew more about the scout work than they did, and many were the helpful suggestions she made. "you must have scout suits," she told them one day, "and each of you must earn the money to buy his own. all the scouts do it, and it is really expected of them. douglas sold newspapers to buy his, and i remember the day he brought his suit home. he looked so fine when he wore it, and we were proud of him." the scouts liked this idea, and they spent over an hour discussing it, and how they were to earn the money. whyn was able to tell the price of the entire suit, and where it could be bought in the city. rod listened to this conversation, but said little. he walked home in a very thoughtful mood, and the royals noticed that he was more silent than usual as he ate his supper. generally he was bubbling over with news about the scouts. but now he had nothing to say of what had taken place that afternoon. rod was worried over the suit question, as he had not the slightest idea how he was going to earn the money to buy his. he could not think of any way out of his difficulty. the other scouts had plans which would not do for him, as they were farmers' sons, and could earn money right at home. he thought of this the last thing before he went to sleep that night, and the moment he awoke it came into his mind. "i want you to take something for me over for miss arabella this morning," mrs. royal told him after breakfast. "the poor soul has not been well for some time, and i heard last night that she is worse. i have made up a few dainties for her as her appetite is almost gone, so i understand." rod did not fancy this errand, for he remembered only too well the last time he had seen miss arabella lying so still upon the sofa after her affair of the heart. it was, therefore, with lagging steps that he made his way across the field, carrying in his hand the little basket filled with the good things mrs. royal had sent for the invalid. miss arabella was in bed looking paler than ever, so rod thought her nose seemed longer than he had ever seen it. she was propped up with several pillows, and her hair was done up in papers. she looked to the boy like pictures he had seen of natives with funny head-dresses out in the islands of the pacific ocean. "so mrs. royal sent those things, did she!" she whined. "she might have come herself. she has been here only three times this week, while you haven't been near me for a long time. i might die here, and no one would care. this is what people call a christian land, is it?" "what's the matter with you, miss arabella?"' rod asked in surprise. "i didn't know you were sick. i have been so busy with the scouts that i haven't had time for anything else." "who are the scouts?" the invalid questioned. there was evidently something taking place in the parish of which she had heard nothing, and her curiosity was aroused. then rod told her about the troop which had been formed, the club-room, and the wonderful girl, to all of which miss arabella listened with much interest. "and do you mean to tell me that cranky old captain josh is looking after the scouts?" she demanded. "sure. he's great," was the reply. "well, i declare!" and miss arabella leaned back against the pillow as if exhausted by the idea. "i wish you could see whyn," and rod gave a little sigh. "she'd do you a whole lot of good." "do me good! in what way, i'd like to know? i guess it would take more than her to make me better." "but she is so jolly," rod explained. "her eyes are laughing all the time, and she is never cross." "humph!" and the invalid gave her head a toss. "if she had to put up with what i have to she would not feel that way." "oh, but she does, miss arabella. she has pains all the time, and she can't walk a step. she hasn't walked for a long time." "she hasn't! well, how can she laugh and not be cross?" "i don't know for sure. but i guess she is trying to be a scout." "what has that to do with it?" "quite a bit. you see, a scout has to smile and whistle no matter what happens. if he jams his finger or stubs his toe, he must smile and go on whistling just as if nothing had happened. it's hard at first, but after you learn how to do it you feel good all the time." "and so you think i should do the same, eh?" and the woman fixed her eyes upon the boy's face. "not exactly, miss arabella," and rod gave a little chuckle. "you might smile more than you do, but i don't think you could whistle. but maybe you can. did you ever try?" "no, i never did," was the snapping reply, "and i detest girls and women who can." "but whyn whistles," rod explained, "and i'm sure you'd like her if you saw her. you ought to see her, miss arabella. i believe she'd make you better. and, besides, you'd do a good turn if you went to the anchorage. whyn doesn't see many women and she'd be so pleased to see you." "what do you mean by a 'good turn'?" the invalid asked. "is it something else the scouts have to do?" "sure. you see, a scout is supposed to do a good turn each day. that is, he must try to help somebody or something. when i put that key down your neck, miss arabella, it was only my good turn which i was doing. captain josh said it was the best thing to do to stop nose bleeding. now, if you'd go to see whyn that would be your good turn, see?" "h'm, i guess i've got all i can do to look after myself without trying to do good turns to others," the woman sniffed. nevertheless, when rod had gone she thought over everything he had said, and for once forgot all about her own troubles. chapter xiii the visit the morning after rod's visit to miss arabella's, mrs. britt was busy in the kitchen making doughnuts. the scouts were coming that afternoon, and once a week, at least, she had some treat for them, and she knew what they liked. mrs. britt's interest in the boys was as keen as her husband's, and it gave her great pleasure to have them about the house. her home life had been very lonely since jimmy went away, so the shouting of the scouts and their merry laughter brought back other days. she had just completed frosting a number of doughnuts, and had them all heaped upon a large plate, when the kitchen door was suddenly thrust open, and miss arabella burst into the room. though the morning was very warm, a thick shawl enwrapped her shoulders, and she wore a heavy winter dress. her eyes were wide with fright, and she was trembling so violently that she was forced to sink into the nearest chair. "why, miss arabella!" mrs. britt exclaimed, "are you sick? you must lie down at once." "no, no, i'm not sick," and the visitor flapped her hands in despair. "but your husband, mrs. britt, your husband, oh, oh!" "what's the matter with him?" mrs. britt enquired, while her face turned suddenly pale. "has anything happened to him? tell me quick." "yes, i'm afraid so. it's awful. i didn't know he was that way. has he been troubled long? you should take him away at once. i always knew he was queer, but i had no idea he was so bad." "will you please tell me what is the matter?" mrs. britt demanded. "i don't understand you. joshua was all right a few minutes ago." "was he?" and miss arabella looked her surprise. "but you should see him now. he's out there in front of the house waving his arms up and down just like this," and the visitor, forgetting her weakness, leaped to her feet and imitated what she had seen the captain doing. "he was looking up at the window," she continued, "and saying things i could not understand. it sounded as if he was going over his letters, and every once in awhile he would clasp his hands before him like this, and cry 'brute.' oh, it is terrible!" mrs. britt gave a deep sigh of relief, while an amused twinkle shone in her eyes. "sit down, miss arabella," she ordered. "there is nothing wrong with joshua. he is practising signalling, that's all. whyn is helping him from her window. he has to teach the scouts this afternoon, and is brushing up a little. you see, every time he moves his arms he makes a letter. the alphabet is divided into groups, and at the end of each group he stops swinging his arms, and clasps his hands before him before making the next group. that is what joshua must have been doing which frightened you so much." "oh, dear me!" and miss arabella began to fan herself with an old newspaper she picked up from off the table. "i never got such a shock in all my life. i don't know what people are coming to these days when an old man like your husband will act in such a way. i came over on purpose to see that girl you have here, and it has nearly cost me my life." "have one of these doughnuts, dear," mrs. britt soothed. "i shall get you some of my home-made wine, which will make you feel better." and the good woman bustled off to the pantry, from which she shortly emerged with a well-filled glass. "that does make me feel better," miss arabella remarked, after she had drunk the wine and eaten two doughnuts. "that walk has certainly given me an appetite." "and i guess you'll feel better still when you see whyn," mrs. britt replied, as she led her visitor into the front bedroom. the invalid girl was sitting by the open window in the big chair the captain had fitted up for her. her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and her eyes were sparkling with animation. she was holding a small signalling chart in her hands, at the same time giving instructions to the captain outside. "try that again," she was saying. "don't hold your arms so stiff. there, that's better." hearing the sound of footsteps, she turned suddenly and her eyes fell upon miss arabella's lank form and thin face. for an instant only she hesitated before reaching out her delicate white hand. "oh, you're miss arabella," she exclaimed. "i'm very glad to see you, and it's so good of you to come. sit down, please." "for pity's sake, how do you know who i am?" was the astonished reply. "a little bird told me," and whyn gave a merry laugh. "h'm. i guess it was a bird without any feathers, and a little red head." "yes, that's who it was. you see, i know most of the people in this place, though i have met only a few. rod told me that you were sick, and what you look like." "he did, did he? and i suppose he told you that i had a long nose which was always poking into other people's business." "why, no!" and whyn's face grew suddenly sober. "he never told me anything like that. he only said that you were thin, with a sad face, and that you were very lonely, with no one to love you." "so he said that, did he?" and a softer expression came into the woman's grey eyes. "but i suppose he told you a whole lot more, though?" "only about how he put the key down your neck," and again whyn smiled. "wasn't it a funny way to do a good turn?" "not very funny for me, miss," and the visitor tossed her head. "but tell me, how old are you?" "just sixteen," was the reply. "what's wrong with you, anyway? you don't look very sick." "it's my back. i am not able to walk, and can sit up only for a little while each day." "my, it must be hard for you to be that way. i know something about it myself," and miss arabella gave a deep sigh. "i try to forget my troubles, though, by thinking of bright things," whyn explained. "and now that i have so much to do with the scouts i have scarcely any time left to think about myself. every night my back aches so much that i cannot sleep for several hours. but last night i was thinking about rod, and didn't mind the pain hardly at all." "why, what's wrong with rod?" the visitor inquired. "i don't see why you should lie awake thinking about him." "no, perhaps you don't, and maybe it was foolish of me, but i couldn't help it. you see, it had to do with his scout suit. each boy must earn the money to buy his own suit, and when the scouts were talking about it, they all told how they were going to raise the money except rod. he didn't say anything, and i knew by the look on his face that he hadn't the least idea where he was going to get the money for his suit. i felt so sorry for him. when rod is thinking hard he is very quiet. he was just like that yesterday, and he didn't even say a word to me when he left. oh, i wish that i could think of some way to help him." "who are the other scouts?" miss arabella asked. "well, there's jimmy perkins. he's corporal, and----" "old ezry perkins' son, eh? i guess i know his pa, a mean old skinflint, if ever there was one. but he dotes on that boy of his, and he'll get him the suit all right. who else?" "then, there's tommy bunker, the boy with a face like the full moon." "yes, i know the bunkers only too well. stuck up people, they are, who think they own the whole parish. you ought to see mrs. bunker come into church. she holds her head so high, and steps so big and mighty, that she thinks she's doing the lord a great service by coming. tommy'll get his suit, never fear. mrs. bunker will see to that." "billy potter comes next," whyn hastened to explain, "and joe martin, and phil dexter, and----" "there, that will do," and miss arabella sniffed in a most significant manner. "i know the whole tribe. nothing but trash, every one of them. queer scouts, i call them. yes, they'll all have suits, and my, how they'll strut around." "i'm afraid rod will not get his for some time," and whyn sighed. "he's patrol leader, too, and i am sure he will feel very badly." "no doubt he will. but, there, i must be off," and miss arabella rose suddenly to her feet. "good-bye. i'll be over to see you again soon," and with that, she whisked out of the room. chapter xiv unexpected assistance when miss arabella left the anchorage she seemed like a different person from the one who had entered it but a short time before. her step was quick and decisive, as if she had something important on hand. "it was wonderful," mrs. britt told her husband, "the way miss arabella went out of that door. she had hardly time to say 'good-bye.' i wonder what has come over her." "h'm," the captain grunted contemptuously, "most likely the hawk has been worryin' that poor little bird in there, and it was that which made her so happy. i don't know of anything on earth that would please that skinny creature as much as naggin' at some poor little innocent thing like whyn, fer instance. her long nose is gettin' more hooked every day." "hush, hush, joshua," his wife remonstrated, "you mustn't say such things about a woman. remember, miss arabella was greatly concerned about you this morning. she thought you had gone out of your mind when she saw you signalling in front of the house." "she did, eh? ho, ho! and i suppose she wished that i was crazy enough to be sent to the 'sylum. that's a good one, and i must go and tell whyn." miss arabella had almost reached her house when she met rod walking slowly along, with his eyes fixed upon the ground. he was thinking deeply, and wondering how he was to earn the money to buy his scout suit. so far he could see no way out of his difficulty. he knew that if he spoke to parson dan and mrs. royal they would gladly give him the money. but he must earn it himself, for that was the scout rule. "well, what are you after now?" was miss arabella's sharp greeting. "grandmother sent me after the basket," rod explained. "i couldn't get into the house, and so i thought maybe you were dead." "do i look like a dead person?" the woman asked, while a grim smile lurked about the corners of her mouth. "no, not now, miss arabella. but yesterday you looked as if you might die at any moment." "well, yesterday is not to-day," she snapped. "i'm much better, so if you'll come back, i'll give you the basket you left here." when they had reached the house and entered the kitchen, miss arabella, instead of getting the basket, sat down upon a splint-bottom chair, and began to take off her wraps. rod stood in the middle of the room and watched her without saying a word. when the hat and shawl had been removed and laid carefully upon the table, the woman turned to the boy. "you told me yesterday," she began, "that you are a scout. is that so?" "yes, miss arabella." "but where is your scout suit?" "i haven't it yet, and i can't get it until i have the money." "well, that's just what i want to speak about. look here, rod, you're not such a bad boy after all, even though you did put a toad in my lap, and drop that key down my neck. now, i've made up my mind to help you. i'm going to give you your suit, see?" rod started, while, an expression of joy leaped into his eyes. he was about to speak, when he suddenly hesitated, and his face grew grave. "what's the matter?" miss arabella demanded, noticing his embarrassed manner. "i--i can't take it," he stammered. "and why not? i'd like to know." "'cos i have to earn the money myself, and if you give me the suit it won't be fair." "oh, rubbish! what's the difference?" was the disgusted reply. "the other scouts will have their suits given to them, and why shouldn't you? i don't want them to get ahead of you." "but they've got to earn their own money, miss arabella, and they'll have to tell how they earned it, too. captain josh won't let them wear their suits unless they do." "h'm, is that so? well, i call it a queer arrangement. how do you expect to earn yours?" and the woman looked keenly at the boy. "i don't know. i've been thinking over it a lot. if i only knew some way, i would work so hard. haven't you anything for me to do, miss arabella? i would run errands, carry in wood and water, or do anything else." "no, there's nothing like that you could do around here. tom is supposed to look after such things, and i don't want to take his jobs from him. he does little enough as it is, dear knows. he spends so much of his time at the store that he won't look after the garden. the strawberries are getting ripe, and i expect they'll rot before he'll touch them. i never saw such a man. i wish to goodness he had to work for his living instead, of depending upon what his father left him." "let me pick the berries, miss arabella," and rod stepped quickly forward. "i'll do it for a cent a box, or less if you want me to. i know a boy who did that and he earned three dollars." miss arabella did not at once reply, and rod was afraid that she did not agree to his proposal. she remained silent for a while, plucking at her dress in a thoughtful manner. "rod," she at last began, and her voice was softer than he had ever heard it, "i am going to give you that patch of berries. it will be your very own, and you can do what you like with it." "oh, miss arabella! surely----" "there, that will do, now," she snapped. "none of your thanks for me. you'd better go and get ready to go to work. i saw a good many ripe berries out there this morning, and you can't afford to waste any time." rod didn't walk across the field. there was no slow sauntering home when he was once out of the house. he burst into the rectory like a whirlwind, just as the royals were sitting down to dinner. breathless and excited, he blurted out his story, and when he was through mrs. royal told him to get ready for dinner. rod could eat but little, as his mind was so taken up with the good fortune which had come his way. he was anxious to be off to the store to get some berry-boxes. "where are you going to send your berries, rodney?" parson dan inquired when they were through with their dinner. "to the city, i suppose," was the reply. "i can't sell them here very well. nearly all of the summer people raise their own." "you should have some one place in the city to send them, rodney. i have heard that peter mcduff gives good prices. you might try him." "will you write him a letter, grandad?" "i think you had better do it yourself. this is your business, and you must carry it through from beginning to the end." it took rod some time to write that letter. it was the first business one he had ever written, and he did not know just what to say. at last, after numerous efforts, he decided that this would be satisfactory: hillcrest, n. b. july th, . "mr. peter mcduff, st. john. "dear sir: i have some strawberries which i am going to pick myself. i want to buy a scout suit, and miss arabella has given me her berries. what will you give me for them? i will send them down on the boat when i hear from you. "yours very truly, "rod royal." rod carried this letter to the office, mailed it, and brought back a number of berry-boxes from the store in his little hand-waggon. the rest of the afternoon he spent in making a crate to hold the boxes. long and patiently he toiled, and at times mrs. royal went into the workshop to see how he was getting along. when supper time came it was a queer ramshackle affair he had constructed, which would hardly hold together long enough to reach the wharf, let alone the rough handling it would receive on the steamer. that evening after rod was in bed, parson dan took a lamp and went out to the workshop. his heart was strangely moved as he looked upon the pathetic efforts of the little lad. casting aside his coat, he started to work, and in about half an hour he had fashioned a neat strong crate, capable of standing the strain of travel. into this he put the berry-boxes, placed upon it a good strong cover, and went back into the house. rod was surprised and delighted next morning when he went into the workshop. he had his misgivings, however, and asked the parson whether it was right for him to receive any help. "that's all right, rodney," the clergyman explained. "you can hardly be expected to make the berry-boxes any more than you can make the large crate. there are some things others must do for us. you will need two or three more crates, so the one i made last night will show you just how the work is to be done. you did remarkably well yesterday with nothing to guide you, but to-day i expect you to do better." thus encouraged, rod once more set to work, and by night he had finished two crates which greatly pleased mr. and mrs. royal. they were overjoyed at the boy's enthusiasm, his skill and his work, as well as his willingness to be taught. the next day a reply was received from peter mcduff. rod was greatly excited as he tore open the envelope. "mr. rod royal," so the letter began, "dear sir: your favor of the th received, and its contents noted. i shall be pleased to receive as many berries as you can send, and will give you market prices for the same. "yours respectfully, "peter mcduff." this was the first business letter rod had ever received and he was delighted. after showing it to mr. and mrs. royal, he rushed over to tell the good news to captain josh and whyn. the latter was much pleased, and she gave him some sound advice. "you must keep that letter," she told him, "for you cannot always trust people. i have heard some queer stories of mean tricks which have been done. then, you had better read the market prices every day in the paper, and cut the piece out, so you will know just exactly how much your berries are bringing. how i wish i could help you pick them." monday morning rod began to pick his first berries. the patch was not a large one, but it seemed big to him. hour after hour he worked, and at times his back ached. the day was hot, and the perspiration poured down his face. but he kept faithfully at his task, stopping only long enough to eat his dinner. when supper time came he had twenty boxes of nice ripe berries lying side by side upon the kitchen table. he could not eat a bite until all had been placed safely in the crate, and then he stood back and gazed upon them with admiration. in fact, he had to come out several times before he went to bed to view his treasures. but at last the cover was placed on, nailed down, and the ticket tacked upon the top. early the next morning parson dan and rod took the berries to the wharf in the carriage, in time to catch the first steamer of the day. thus at last his precious berries were off on their way to the city, and as rod watched the _heather bell_ as she glided away from the wharf he tried to catch a glimpse of his box where it was lying among the rest of the freight. he pictured mr. mcduff's delight when he saw what fine berries he had received. that day rod picked twenty more boxes, fifteen in the morning, and five during the afternoon. they were becoming scarcer now, and it would be necessary for him to let them ripen for a day before he could expect to fill a third crate. the rest of the afternoon he spent with the scouts. it was their regular meeting, at which they were to tell how they were getting along with the raising of money for their suits. the reports were by no means encouraging from most of the boys, as they had accomplished nothing. rod alone told what he had done, and how much he hoped to make out of his berries. "i am going to earn every cent myself," he said in conclusion, "and i am not going to get my suit until i can pay for it." "good fer you!" the captain exclaimed. "that's the kind of talk i like to hear. and look here, you fellows," he continued, turning to the rest of the scouts, "if ye want to remain in this troop ye've got to git a hustle on. i've got letters in my pocket from several boys who want to join. some are willin' to walk quite a distance, and if ye don't want to obey orders, out ye go. a troop can't be run right, any more than a ship, unless orders are obeyed. i'll let yez off this time, but, remember, a week from to-day ye'll report again, and then i'll give my decision. that'll do now, so let's go fer a sail." every day rod studied the price of berries in the newspaper, and cut out the list. he also kept his account in his little note-book. at the end of the first week he had made the following entries: "july th-- boxes at cents . . . . $ . july th-- boxes at cents . . . . . july th-- boxes at cents . . . . . july st-- boxes at cents . . . . . ----- "$ . " the next week he sent off several more boxes which amounted to three dollars according to his reckoning. he knew that the freight would have to come out of this, which he believed would not be over one dollar at the most. thus he would have about seven dollars to spend upon his suit, billy-can, axe, haversack, knife, and several other things he saw in the scout list which had been sent from the store in the city where the supplies were kept. rod showed his account to captain josh, and the latter believed that the figures were about right, as he had each day found out from the farmers what they had received for their berries. he was somewhat surprised that peter mcduff had sent no regular statements to rod. he, accordingly, made careful inquiries from several people who knew mcduff, and what he learned gave him considerable uneasiness. chapter xv in the city rod was now very anxious to buy his scout suit. he thought of the money waiting for him in the city, and he spoke about it to captain josh. "i want to examine all the boys in the tenderfoot tests," the captain replied. "the ones who are able to pass, and have earned the money for their suits will go with me to the city. the rest will have to stay at home." the very next day the captain examined each scout separately. rod was the only one who was able to pass all the tests, and had earned the money. the others felt somewhat sore because they could not ask their parents for the money, and thus go to the city with the captain. several, in fact, were quite sulky. "yez needn't look like that," the captain told them. "ye've got only yerselves to blame that ye're not ready. ye're like too many people today who expect to get things without workin' for them. but this troop is not run on sich lines. some day ye'll come bang up aginst another troop, and how'll ye feel if ye git licked. why, when i asked some of you boys to tie a clove-hitch ye handed me out a reef-knot, which is nothin' more than a 'granny' knot, which any one could tie. i want yez to do more than other people kin, or what's the use of havin' a troop? so git away home now, fer we'll have no more fun until yez git through with yer work." rod was delighted at the idea of going to the city with the captain. "i'll look after the boy," the latter told mr. and mrs. royal, "and i'll see that he gits fair play, too. ye'll certainly be proud of him when he comes back wearin' his scout suit." the royals were most thankful at the change which had come over the bluff old captain. it seemed almost incredible that such a transformation should take place in him in such a short time. it was the influence of their little boy, they were well aware, which had done it, and they often talked about the way they had been criticised for having taken the lad into their home and hearts. they thought, too, of his mother, and the mystery concerning her instead of lessening, deepened as the months rolled by. she never failed to send her weekly letter, and the money each month. rod's bank account was steadily growing, for the royals had not spent one cent of it, even though at times they felt the need of some of it when the money due from the parish was much in arrears. they were greatly puzzled that rod's mother did not come to see him. in every letter she wrote of her longing for her boy, and how she hoped to come some day. she had said the same thing for years until it had become an old story now. to rod his real mother was a visionary person, who wrote to him every week and sent him money. but apart from these things she was of little interest to him. his world was in hillcrest, and not far away in some big city. the next day captain josh and his charge reached the city, when they went at once to peter mcduff's store. they were kept waiting for some time, as the owner was not in. when he returned the captain stated the object of their visit, and how the boy wished to get his money in order to buy his scout suit. going into his little office, mcduff remained there for about ten minutes, which seemed much longer to those waiting outside. when he did come out he handed the captain the account he had made up, and then proceeded to thumb over several bills. captain josh examined the paper carefully, and then handed it to rod without a word of comment. the latter gave one quick glance, and his face became pale, while his eyes grew big with astonishment. "what is it, lad?" the captain queried. "find somethin' queer there, eh?" "yes, sir," was the reply; "i don't understand it at all. i sent down one hundred boxes, and this paper gives only eighty. and, oh, look, he pays only six cents a box," and rod held up the account for the captain to see. "what's the meaning of this?" and captain josh turned suddenly upon mcduff, who was keenly watching the two. "this boy sent you down one hundred boxes of strawberries. i was at the wharf myself when each crate was shipped, and i counted them, though rod didn't know it. then you give him here only six cents a box when they were bringing from seven to nine. surely there has been some mistake." "there has been no mistake," mcduff angrily returned. "i never make mistakes. only eighty boxes were sent to me, and six cents is all they were worth. you can take that or nothing. i am too busy to waste all the morning talking. here's your money," and he held out four dollars and eighty cents to rod. "don't take it, lad," and the captain reached out a restraining hand. "the full amount or nothin'. is that all ye'll give?" he asked, turning to mcduff. "not a cent more. it's all i got, and it's all they were worth." for an instant the captain looked the storekeeper full in the face. then glancing quickly around the store, and seeing a telephone, he moved toward it. "you can't use my phone," mcduff cried, feeling sure that the captain had some special object in view. "i can't, eh? well, if you say so, that settles it. i kin git one next door. i only want to call up my lawyer, that's all. he knows me pretty well. i'd like to use other means to settle this matter, but i guess lawyer allen's advice might be the better way." "what! you don't mean to go to law over this little matter, do you?" mcduff anxiously enquired. "certainly i do. it isn't the amount so much as the principle. ye're tryin' to cheat a little boy, and i'm goin' to stand by him, i don't care how much it costs. i'm scoutmaster, and he's patrol leader of the hillcrest troop, and if ye think ye kin do him a mean trick, then ye're mighty much mistaken." "but look here," mcduff angrily replied. "you seem to be making a big fuss over nothing. and, besides, you've charged me with cheating that boy, and i'll make you take back your words. two can play at this game." "no doubt they kin," the captain reflectively answered as he moved toward the door. "but look, peter mcduff, it makes a great difference who's in the right, and who kin back up his statements. it's no use fer us to argue any longer. come on, rod." "wait a minute," the storekeeper called out, when he saw that the captain meant business, "maybe we can arrange this affair without going to law. i'm willing to come to some reasonable terms. what will you take to settle? split the difference, eh?" "no. not one cent less than what's comin' to the boy. that or nothin'. i'll give ye five minutes to think it over," and the captain, coming back into the store, seated himself upon a barrel of flour. mcduff was angry, there was no doubt about that. customers who came into the store, and were waited upon by the clerk, were astonished at the conversation which was going on between the two men. but mcduff paid no heed to them. he wanted to get clear of this troublesome countryman. he little realised that a few boxes of berries less would cause such a fuss. he had done the same thing before, and had bluffed out of paying. but now it was different. he stood in the centre of the floor for a few seconds, frowning, and longing to express himself in violent words. presently he turned and went again into his office. when he came out he handed the captain a new account. "there, will that suit you?" he demanded. "rather than have you say that i cheated the boy, i am willing to pay him for more berries than he ever sent me, and to give a higher price than they were bringing at the time." captain josh took the account and studied it carefully. "that looks better," he remarked. "eight dollars in all, and with the freight deducted leaves just seven dollars. yes, that will do, i guess. now fer the money." when several crisp bills had been handed over, and the account receipted, captain josh turned to the storekeeper. "jist a word before we go, peter mcduff," he began. "it is well fer you that ye've settled up this business at once. i advise ye not to try any more of yer tricks upon people after this, especially upon a boy scout. if ye'd held out, and had not paid that money, i'd a fixed ye so ye'd been no longer in a position to cheat any one. i have enough evidence to knock ye sky-high. ye may thank yer stars that ye have a little sense left, even if ye haven't any honour." the storekeeper made no reply, but turning on his heel, left them. after captain josh and rod had eaten their dinner at a restaurant, they started off to buy the scout suit. the boy was greatly excited over this, and his eyes bulged with astonishment when he saw so many suits and other supplies for the scouts. "ye must do a big business here," the captain remarked to the clerk. "we certainly do," was the reply. "there are over six hundred scouts in the city, and most of them get their outfits here. i suppose you'll be at the big parade this evening?" "what parade?" "the scouts are to turn out in a body, when they will be inspected by the lieutenant-governor. he is to give them an address, so i understand, on the y. m. c. a. grounds. it will be a big affair, and well worth attending." this was too good an opportunity to miss, so the captain and rod went early to the place of meeting. the former wished to see what other scouts did, and he had planned to come to the city on purpose to visit several of the troops in their own rooms. but now he could view them all together, which would be far better. at half past seven the mayor, with several of the city officials, accompanied the lieutenant-governor as he rode up in a big auto. they all dismounted and took their seats upon the temporary grand-stand which had been erected. they had not long to wait ere the sound of music was heard, and presently down the street the head of the big procession appeared in view. as the scouts swung up, rod's heart beat fast, and even the captain stood straighter than usual. there was something inspiring about the way those boys, six hundred strong, advanced, in full uniform, with sloping staves. they marched well, with bodies erect, and as they moved by the stand they gave the full salute. then they swung around and lined up before the lieutenant-governor. by this time a large crowd had gathered, and a cheer went up at the splendid conduct of the scouts. when this had died down, the mayor spoke a few words of encouragement, and then introduced the chief official of the province. captain josh and rod were quite near and could hear every word the lieutenant-governor uttered. he was proud of them, so he said, and his heart had been greatly stirred by what he had witnessed. he was glad to know that there were so many scouts in the city, and he wished that all the scouts in the province were present on this occasion. after speaking for awhile, and giving them some words of advice, he outlined a plan over which he said he had given considerable thought. he wanted the scouts to be thrifty, and to open up bank accounts. he hoped to meet them again in a year's time, and that troop, whether in the city or any other part of the province, showing the biggest bank account in proportion to its size, would receive a prize. a friend of his, who wished to remain unknown, had made this suggestion, and offered to present a bugle-band to the winning troop. each bank-book had to be handed in to the provincial secretary, together with a detailed account as to how the money had been raised, and signed by the scoutmaster. further instructions would be given later. all other troops which had competed would each receive a troop-flag. when he was through the scouts gave him three rousing cheers and a "tiger." after the national anthem had been sung, the band once more struck up, the scouts formed into line, and were soon swinging on their way back to their various headquarters. captain josh and rod said very little as they walked along the street toward the hotel where they were to spend the night. but when once within the room which had been assigned to them, the captain laid his right hand upon his companion's shoulder. "hillcrest troop must win that prize, lad," he remarked. "can we do it, captain?" was the reply. "do it? sure we kin. we may be the smallest troop in the province, but we'll show them a thing or two." in his dreams that night rod saw once again the six hundred scouts. but they seemed different now, for among them was the hillcrest troop receiving from the lieutenant-governor the coveted bugle-band, amidst the wild cheers of the other troops. chapter xvi whyn decides there was considerable excitement among the hillcrest troop when captain josh and rod returned home. the rest of the scouts were at the wharf to meet them, and marched with them at once to whyn's room. the new scout suit was greatly admired, and the jealous ones had enough sense to keep quiet. in fact, they were too much ashamed to say anything, so they sat and listened to what was going on. whyn was delighted, and made rod stand before her while she examined him with critical eyes. "my, i wish you all had suits like that," she sighed, "then you would look something like a troop. soldiers never seem of much account until they get their uniforms on." captain josh then told of the trouble they had had with peter mcduff, and how at last he had been compelled to pay what was right. "good for you!" whyn exclaimed. "you're the right kind of a scoutmaster to have. i shall tell that to douglas when i write again." when the captain told about the parade of the six hundred scouts, and what the lieutenant-governor had said, the enthusiasm became very keen. the scouts' eyes sparkled with interest, and all began to talk at once. yes, they would win the prize, they declared, and they would buy a motorboat with the money they earned. though they had spoken about such a boat before, the captain had scoffed at the idea, saying that the _roaring bess_ was good enough for him. but deep in his heart he longed for a motor-boat even more than the boys. the yacht was all right for pleasure, but it was hardly suited for business, such as fishing, and carrying passengers over the river. if the scouts could earn enough money to buy a motor-boat he could have the use of it. how to earn the money was the important question, and many were the ideas suggested. one boy thought they might catch rabbits next winter; another wished to go over to the big island and dig for gold which captain kidd was supposed to have buried there. all expressed their views except rod. he waited until the rest were through before speaking. "let us leave it to whyn," he at last suggested. "she always has some plan, and will know what we might do first." "that's good," the captain agreed. "we can't do better than that." "oh, i don't know," the girl laughingly replied. "you might make a mistake if you let me choose." "no, no," came in chorus. "you'll do all right." "very well, then, i'll do the best i can, though you'll have to give until to-morrow to decide. i want to sleep on it to-night." "but no lyin' awake, remember," the captain warned. "ye're not to stay awake thinkin' it all over. if ye do, i'll wash my hands of the whole affair." "no fear of that, captain," and whyn smiled up into his face. such a smile as that was worth a great deal to the old man, though he never spoke of it to any one. "there is one thing, however," the girl continued, "which must be done before we begin to earn that money." "and what's that?" the captain inquired. "all the scouts must have their suits. it will be necessary if the plan which has just come into my mind can be worked out." "hey, d'ye hear that?" the captain roared, as if he were giving orders to a rebellious crew. "ye must have yer suits, and then we'll git down to work in dead earnest." rod was anxious to get home to show mr. and mrs. royal his new suit. they had been waiting for him for some time, and were quite anxious, as the steamer had been up for over an hour. when he entered the dining-room they thought that they had never beheld such a fine-looking boy. their hearts swelled with pride, and mrs. royal secretly brushed away a tear with the corner of her apron. rod told them all about what they had done in the city, about peter mcduff, the parade, and how the hillcrest troop was going to enter the contest for the prize. this was of much interest to the royals, and they sat at the table later than usual discussing the whole matter. "i have important news for you this evening, rodney," parson dan after a while informed him. "i had a letter from your mother to-day, and she says that she hopes to pay us a visit sometime this summer." "oh!" it was all that the boy could say, but several anxious thoughts surged through his mind. was his mother coming to take him away? he wondered. he did not wish to go, as all of his interests were centred in hillcrest. mr. and mrs. royal, too, looked grave. they had thought of the same idea. would rod's mother ask them to give up the boy? how could they part with him? they asked themselves. "when is she coming, grandad?" rod at last asked. "she doesn't say, so we may expect her at almost anytime." "i don't want to see her," the boy cried, while tears started in his eyes. "don't want to see your mother, rodney!" the clergyman exclaimed in surprise. "yes, in a way i want to see her," was the faltering reply. "but if she wants to take me away, i don't want her to come. oh, don't let her take me, grandad," and rod sprang to his feet, and stood beseechingly before the parson. "why should she come for me now? if she wanted me very much, why didn't she come before?" "there, there, dear, don't worry," mrs. royal soothed. "it is hardly likely that your mother will wish to take you away from us. it is only natural that she should long to see you. there must be some good reason why she could not come before. you had better go to bed now, for you must be tired after your busy day." the scouts were anxious to know what plan whyn would suggest for raising money, and so they were earlier than usual at her room on the following afternoon. it was a beautiful day, and through the open window drifted the scent of flowers, and new-mown hay. it was a cool refreshing spot, this little room, where the bright-faced girl received her visitors. captain josh was not present, as he had work to do in his garden. whyn greeted the boys with a smile, and after they had seated themselves upon chairs and the floor, she plunged at once into the subject of special interest. "let's give a concert," she abruptly began. "a what?" the boys exclaimed. "a concert and a tea. don't you understand? i have been talking it over with the captain and mrs. britt, and they think it a good idea. the plan is this: we shall invite all the people in the place to come early before it gets dark. they can gather in front of the house so i can see what is going on. we will ask parson dan to give a speech, and then you scouts will show what you can do. you will give a talk on the flag, tie the knots, say the scout law, and do some signalling. after that the captain will march you up and down before the people, and you will do the staff-drill which he is going to teach you. then you will sell ice-cream and candy. each scout is to bring something, and mrs. britt will make the candy. perhaps other people will assist, too. oh, it will be grand!" "how much do you think we will make, whyn?" one of the boys asked. "can't we have something bigger than that? it will take a long time to earn much money that way." "it will be a beginning, though," was the quiet reply. "we must not expect to raise all the money at once. after we are through with this we can try something else. we might get fifty people to come, and if we sell tickets at ten cents each that will bring us in five dollars. i am sure the summer people will come, and we may have more than fifty. then, we should make five dollars from the refreshments, and that will be ten dollars in all, which will not be too bad for a start." the scouts finally agreed to what whyn said, and they spent considerable time talking over the whole affair, and arranging their plans. the interest now became very keen, and when the tickets had been made each boy undertook to sell as many as he could. in a week's time all the tickets were sold, and more had to be made by mrs. britt and whyn. the scouts practised hard for the important event, and captain josh spared no pains in his efforts to drill them as thoroughly as possible. each one had now passed the tenderfoot tests, and were ready for their badges. they had also earned the money for their suits, and it was a great day when all appeared before whyn dressed in their complete uniforms. the girl was delighted, and her eyes sparkled with joy as the captain marched them up and down outside her window. the big affair was to take place thursday evening, and when the scouts visited whyn on monday afternoon they were in fine spirits. everything had been arranged, many tickets had been sold, and it looked as if the concert would be a great success. they found the invalid girl quieter than they had ever seen her before, though she greeted them with her usual smile and listened to them for several minutes as they talked about scout matters. "there is something which troubles me," whyn at length remarked. "every concert should have singing, or music of some kind. now, we have not arranged for one song, and i am sure the people who come will be disappointed. i am so fond of singing myself that i know how much it will be missed. but i suppose it can't be helped. i wish you boys could sing." "maybe some of the choir members would come," rod suggested. "oh, do you think they would?" whyn eagerly asked. "i am not quite sure that they will. but i will speak to grandad about it. i know he will do all he can to help." "i hope they will come," and whyn gave a tired sigh. "i haven't heard any singing for such a long time, that i am hungry for it. i had such a wonderful letter from douglas to-day," she continued, after a slight pause. "he says that anna royanna, the great new american singer, has been in ottawa, and he heard her one night. she is quite young, so he writes, very beautiful, and with such a sad sweet face. the people went fairly wild over her voice, and she had to sing one piece twice before they would let her stop. and do you know, she is coming to st. john, and will be at the opera house on wednesday night. just think of it!" and whyn's eyes glowed with enthusiasm, while she clasped her thin white hands together. "she will be there, so near, and yet i won't be able to hear her. but mamma will tell me about it, and that will be something." the scouts did not remain long in whyn's room that afternoon. they knew that she was tired, and so when they left her they made their way to the shore, and sat down upon the sand under the shade of a large willow tree. they were unusually silent now, for all were thinking of what whyn had told them about the wonderful singer. "isn't it too bad," rod suddenly began, "that whyn can't hear her sing?" "she can't go to the city, that's sure," phil dexter replied, giving the stick he was holding a savage thrust into the yielding sand. "maybe she'd come here," billy potter suggested. this was a brilliant idea, and the scouts looked at one another, while the light of hope brightened their faces. "would she come?" that was the question each asked himself. these boys knew nothing about the ways of the great world beyond their own parish. if they did they would have known how utterly ridiculous was the thought of a famous singer coming all the way to such an unknown place as hillcrest to sing to an invalid girl. but to them their little circle was everything, and the idea of such a noted person coming was nothing out of the ordinary. "how much do you think she'd want?" tommy bunker queried. "let's give her half what we make," rod suggested. "and look," he continued, "we mustn't say a word to captain josh or whyn, or to anybody else. let it be a big surprise to all. if she comes we can keep her hid until the very last, and then she can come out and sing just like people do in story-books. wouldn't whyn be surprised and delighted?" "but who's going to ask her?" phil enquired. "father's going to the city on wednesday, for i heard him say so this morning. maybe he would see her." "but we mustn't let him know anything about it," rod warned. "why couldn't you go with him, phil?" "i wouldn't like to go alone," was the reply. "she'd scare me, and i wouldn't know what to say. i'll go, for one, if dad'll let me, and i guess he will. then, if you'll come, too, rod, i'll go with you to see her. you can do the talking, and i'll back you up." "mighty poor backing, i should say," joe martin retorted, with a grin. "better take some one with more spunk, rod. i think you should go, though, as patrol-leader." "i guess phil will do all right," rod replied. "we could go to hear her sing, that's if i can go. i will find out about it and let you know." chapter xvii anna royanna rod had no opportunity that evening of speaking to parson dan or mrs. royal about the wonderful singer. there were visitors at the rectory for tea, and he was in bed before they left. he thought very much about it, nevertheless, and in his sleep he dreamed that he was listening to miss royanna. he could see her quite plainly, just as whyn had described her, and he was so disappointed when he awoke and found himself in his own little room, and not in the opera house with the singer before him. "i was reading in the paper last night," parson dan remarked, just after they had sat down to breakfast, "that a famous singer is coming to the city. her name is anna royanna, and she will be at the opera house wednesday night. wouldn't you like to go, dear?" and he looked across the table at his wife. "i'm afraid not," was the reply. "the ladies' aid will meet here on that day, and so i could not possibly leave. why don't you go, daniel? you are fond of good singing, and it is so seldom that you get away from the parish." "it is utterly out of the question, martha," the clergyman sadly returned. "i have to bury old mrs. fisk at stony creek to-morrow afternoon." "oh, i had forgotten about that, daniel. isn't it always the way when anything of special importance comes to the city? you have never been able to attend." "it seems so. but never mind, dear, we are going to take a long holiday next summer, and that will make up for much we have lost." "may i go, grandad?" rod suddenly asked. "go where, rodney? with us next summer?" "no, but to hear miss royanna." "you!" and the parson straightened himself up. "why, i didn't know that you would care to go." "but i do, grandad. phil dexter is going with his father to the city to-morrow, and why couldn't i go along with them? phil and i could go to hear miss royanna ourselves if mr. dexter doesn't want to go. oh, may i?" "well, we shall think it over," the parson replied, "and let you know later." that afternoon mrs. royal told rod that he could go to the city. it might do him good, so she said, to hear such a famous singer. she knew that she could trust him to behave himself, no matter where he was. rod was delighted, and hurried over at once to inform the rest of the scouts, who were already gathered at headquarters. in the paper which came that day from the city there was a long piece about anna royanna, and parson dan read it aloud that evening. it told how this wonderful singer had sprung suddenly into fame during the last year. she had been singing before but had attracted little attention until one night a noted foreign singer heard her voice at a party given in a private house. it was through him that such success had come to her. rod and phil were fortunate in obtaining seats in the opera house, the only two which were left. as they looked around upon the crowded place they were for a time somewhat bewildered. they were not accustomed to seeing so many people together, and they felt very small and insignificant. several people watched with interest the two boys who stared at everything and everybody in such undisguised wonder. but rod and phil did not care. they wanted to see and hear miss royanna and it did not matter to them what people thought. the curtain at last slowly rose, and a deep hush passed throughout the building. then a woman moved quietly to the centre of the stage. rod sat bolt upright when he saw her. he paid no attention to the storm of applause which greeted her appearance. he saw her bend her head slightly in acknowledgment of the reception she received. never before had he seen such a beautiful woman, and his heart went out to her at once. what would whyn say when she saw her? he asked himself. then a doubt flashed into his mind. would this marvellous woman listen to him? would she be willing to go all the way to hillcrest to sing to a helpless girl? he felt his courage slowly oozing away and he almost wished that he did not have to speak to her. would she have anything to say to him? he wondered. he noted her dress; how beautiful it was! and her face, he could see it quite plainly, was sweet, and yet sad, just as whyn had described it from her brother's letter. rod was presently aroused from his meditation by the sweetest sound he ever heard. he thought there must be a bird singing somewhere on the stage. he rubbed his eyes, thinking he was dreaming. but, no, it was only the woman standing before him, and she was singing. as he listened to her he could not help thinking of the fields in hillcrest, of the birds and flowers, which he knew and loved. and thus his thoughts would wander every time she sang. it was so strange that he could not account for it, and he wondered if phil felt the same way. now he was tucked in his little bed at home, with the wind sobbing around the house, and the rain beating against the window. then, he saw soldiers marching, and horses galloping, such as he had seen in pictures. once he was sure that he was lying on the grass beneath the shade of an old tree with the bees humming around him, and the grasshoppers playing upon their funny musical saws. he felt angry whenever the people made a noise, and drove the pictures away. he didn't think of the singer now, of how she was dressed, or what she looked like, and he didn't remember even one word she had uttered. he hardly realised that he was in the big opera house with the crowd of people about him. but there was one piece, and the last, which he did remember. it was the way the woman sang it which had such an effect. he was sure that there were tears in her eyes. his own were misty, anyway. she said that she always closed with it, and it was called, "my little lad, god bless him." that appealed to rod. so this woman, then, had a little boy, and he wanted to hear what she had to say about him. the very first words arrested his attention. "there's a little lad, god bless him! and he's all the world to me; guide him, lord, through life's long journey, guard him, keep him safe to thee. refrain: "you're my only little laddie, golden hair, and eyes of blue; god, who made the birds and flowers, chose the best when he made you. "streams may ripple, birds may carol, twinkling-stars may dance and shine, but life's sweetest joy and rapture is to know that you are mine. refrain: "you're my only little laddie, etc. "parted, though, by time and distance, hearts can never sundered be. love divine, oh, still unite us, strong to each, and strong in thee. refrain: "you're my only little laddie, golden hair, and eyes of blue; god, who made the birds and flowers, chose the best when he made you." rod paid little heed to the storm of applause which greeted this song, and when it was repeated he did not follow the words as closely as before. he was thinking about that boy, and wondering where he was. he was sure that the woman was almost crying when she got through. what made her feel so badly? was her boy away from her somewhere, and if she wanted him so much, why didn't she go to see him? at last the curtain dropped, and the concert was over. as the people began to go out, rod overheard what those nearest to him were saying. they were loud in their praise of the singer. "it was that last piece which caught me," he heard one man say. "it wasn't the words so much as the way she sang it." "i was crying when she got through," his companion, a woman, replied. "i just couldn't help it. she's had trouble in her life, mark my word." rod and phil now were uncertain what to do. they remained where they were until the people in front of them had all passed out. they felt very helpless and forlorn there in that big place. the curtain was down, and the singer had disappeared. but they must find her, and she was somewhere on the stage in the background. they knew nothing about the regular way of entrance, and, so, after a moment's consultation, they hurried forward down the long central aisle. coming to the stage, they clambered upon this, made their way along the edge, and slipped quickly about the left-hand corner of the curtain. behind this no one was to be seen, but observing a door to the right, they made straight toward it. they had scarcely reached it, when they were met by a pompous little man, who demanded what they were doing there. "we want to see miss royanna," rod replied, shrinking back somewhat from the man's fierce look. "see miss royanna!" the man shouted in surprise. "if that isn't the limit! well, she can't be seen, that's all there is about it." "but we have come all the way to see her," rod insisted. "all the way from where?" "from hillcrest." "ho, ho! that's a good one. d'ye think she'd gee such bushies as you? get out of this, or i'll chuck you." "but we must see her," and rod stepped boldly forward. "it's very important." "get out of this, i say," and the man caught him roughly by the shoulders, wheeled him around, and was about to send him headlong out upon the stage, when a stern voice arrested him. "what's all this about, ben?" "i'm kicking these two bushies out, sir, for their impudence in coming here," the little man replied, letting go of his grip upon the boy. as rod turned, his heart gave a great leap, for there before him stood the very man with "the splendid eyes and grey hair," who had so won miss arabella's heart. for a few seconds john markham eyed the two boys. rod's face looked familiar, but he could not recall where he had seen it before. he was always meeting so many people that it was hard for him to remember them all. perhaps this was one of the newsboys, and that was the reason why he recognised his face. "what do you want, my lad?" he kindly enquired. "we want to see miss royanna," was the reply. a smile passed over the manager's face at the idea of the famous singer entertaining such company. "i am afraid that miss royanna is too tired to see you to-night," he replied. "she gave strict instructions that no one was to be admitted." "but we have come all the way from hillcrest to see her," and rod lilted his blue eyes appealingly to the man's face. "it's very important, sir." "from hillcrest, did you say," and light now began to dawn upon mr. markham's mind. "and how is miss arabella?" he asked, while an amused twinkle shone in his eyes. "oh, she's well, i guess. but may we see miss royanna? it's so important, and we won't tire her very much." john markham remained silent for a while. he did not wish to turn these little lads away now, but he wondered whether the singer would mind if he should take them in. he had a great respect for miss royanna, for it was seldom that he was able to obtain such a notable person, and from the time that she had accepted his invitation to come he had been greatly puzzled. why should she have been so willing to come to st. john, when cities four to five times the size were clamouring for her? but she had written, accepting at once, and had seemed really glad to come. "wait here," he at last ordered, as he turned on his heel, "and i shall see what i can do with miss royanna." chapter xviii the way of the heart anna royanna was very tired, and she was sitting in an old easy chair waiting for the manager to come to take her to the hotel. she leaned back in a listless manner, with her inclined head leaning upon her right hand. it was a small hand, and very white. her dark hair partly shrouded her face of singular beauty and sweetness. but lines of care were plainly visible, and as she waited there this night those lines deepened. she was much depressed, notwithstanding the reception she had received from the crowded house. she had been told that she was expected to sing at the matinee on the morrow, and this was not at all to her liking. she had been planning something of a far different nature. she had engagements for weeks ahead, and she had only come to st. john when asked to do so that she might carry out an idea which had long been in her mind. but now this must be abandoned for the present if she consented to sing at the matinee, as she must leave the city early the next morning. while she was thinking over these things, the door softly opened, and john markham entered. "are you ready to go?" she enquired. "you are very tired," was the reply, "and it is no wonder. but you made a great hit to-night, and i have been almost swamped with requests from visitors who wish to see you. some were determined to enter, especially women, and i had to be very firm, in fact almost rude." "you were quite right, mr. markham," and the woman lifted her eyes to his face. "i have no desire to see such people. i know them only too well. they are quite willing to fawn upon me now when i have met with some success. but one time when i was poor and struggling they treated me like a dog. i suppose mrs. featson, mrs. juatty, mrs. merden, and other women of their set were there." "oh, yes, and they were most insistent. but how do you know of them?" and the manager looked astonished. "i thought that you were an entire stranger here." "so i am, in a way," and a slight smile overspread the woman's face. "but i know those women to my sorrow. some day, perhaps, i may be able to tell you more, but not to-night. are you ready to go now?" "just a moment, miss royanna," and the manager motioned her not to rise. "there are two little boys outside, who are very anxious to see you." "boys! to see me?" "yes. they came from the country, and will not leave, so they say, until they see you." "what do they want?" "i do not know. but i am acquainted with one of the little chaps, as i met him this summer. i have a good story to tell you when you get rested. shall i bring them in? they will not keep you long." "yes, let them come," was the reply. "i love boys; there is no pretence about them." rod's heart beat fast as he followed mr. markham into the presence of the great singer. what should he say? he asked himself. would the woman be willing to go? phil crept close at his heels, of no more use than a kitten. as rod approached, miss royanna held out her hand. "so you want to see me?" she began. "i am not very often favoured with a visit from boys." rod felt more at home now. these words had put him at ease. he looked keenly into the woman's eyes, and what he saw there gave him great encouragement. in truth, miss royanna was much impressed with his manly bearing. he stood so erect, with his blue eyes looking straight into hers. for an instant there flashed into her mind the idea that she had seen those eyes before. some chord of memory was stirred, which affected her in a remarkable manner. she tried to recall something, but in vain. "you wish to speak to me, so i understand," she encouraged, noting rod's embarrassment. "yes, please, if i may. but i'm afraid now that you won't do it." "do what?" "come to our concert." "your concert! where is it to be held?" "at captain josh's, and whyn would like to hear you sing so much. you see, the scouts are getting up a concert to raise money, and we want some one to sing. whyn is sick, and can't walk. she heard about you from her brother, douglas. she couldn't come herself to hear you, so we have come to ask you to help us out, and sing for whyn. it would be a great surprise for whyn, as she knows nothing about what we are doing. we will give you half what we make at the concert." john markham turned suddenly around, so that the boys could not see the amusement upon his face. he wanted to laugh outright, so funny did it all seem. he longed to rush out and tell some of his friends the whole story. the thought of the famous woman being asked to go to sing in an out-of-the-way country place, and to receive half the proceeds, tickled him immensely. miss royanna was also amused, and her eyes twinkled as rod blurted out his request. and yet there was something about his straightforward manner which appealed to her. she thought, too, of the sick girl, and the spirit of true chivalry which had caused these two boys to come all the way to the city for her sake. how disappointed they would be when she told them how utterly impossible it would be for her to go. "where is this concert to take place?" she at length enquired. "at headquarters, just in front of whyn's window, so she can see and hear," was the reply. "yes, but where? how far is it from the city?" "oh, i forgot that," and rod smiled. "i thought everybody knew that captain josh lived at hillcrest." "hillcrest, did you say?" the woman demanded, while a new interest shone in her eyes. "yes. it's on the river, about twenty-five miles from here. you could go up in the afternoon boat, and get there in plenty of time." the woman sat up suddenly in her chair now, for an idea had stabbed her mind with a startling intensity. could it be possible, she asked herself, that this is he? those eyes recalled one whose memory was very dear, and that erect poise of the head, crowned with such golden curls, could belong to no one else. and he was from hillcrest as well, the very place. "tell me," she said in a low voice, controlling herself as much as possible, "your name, my little man." "rod royal," was the reply. there was no doubt about it now, and involuntarily the woman reached out her arms toward him. she drew them back, however, and placed her hand to her forehead. "are you ill, miss royanna?" mr. markham enquired. "i am afraid that these boys are tiring you. they must leave at once." "yes, i do feel tired, and wish to get back to the hotel." "and you won't go to the concert?" rod questioned anxiously. "whyn will be so disappointed." the woman's eyes were now fixed full upon the boy's face. she saw his lips quiver, and her heart went out to him with one mighty rush. how she longed to clasp him in her arms, shower kisses upon his little tanned face, and tell him all. but, no, she must not do it yet. there was a reason why she should delay. with an effort, therefore, she restrained herself. "will you come with me to the hotel?" she asked. "we can talk it over there." "but, miss royanna," the manager warned, who saw that she was much drawn toward the boys, "you must not make any rash promises, you are in great demand, and it will be a bitter disappointment to many if you do not sing tomorrow afternoon." "leave that to me, mr. markham. i shall not disappoint any one, not even these boys." "and so you intend to go to the concert," the manager remarked, as they were being bowled swiftly along in the car to the hotel. "yes. why should i not? there will be plenty of time after the matinee. i can hire a car to take me there, and bring me back in the evening. i shall enjoy the trip out into the country, for i am so tired of cities." "but what will people think of your going to such a place to sing for a few country people?" "i don't care what they think," and the woman's voice was severer than usual. "i know that i shall not be able to meet a number of society lights, for which i shall be most thankful." rod and phil had never been in a large hotel before, and they gazed with wonder upon everything they saw. the elevator, which moved so easily upwards, was a great mystery. then the large carpeted hallway through which they passed, where their footsteps could not be heard, and last of all the spacious room into which they were admitted, caused their eyes to bulge with astonishment. when they were comfortably seated in big chairs, with the singer sitting close to rod, so she could watch his every movement, the talk naturally drifted off to hillcrest. rod told about the scouts, whyn, the britts, miss arabella, and his own life at the rectory. miss royanna led him deftly along to tell about these various people, especially mr. and mrs. royal. soon she learned much about rod's daily work, what he was fond of most of all, and numerous other things concerning his life. "have you lived long with your grandparents?" she asked. "ever since i was a baby. i was left there one dark, wild night by my mother." "and so you have never seen her?" "no. but i have had letters from her, though. she's coming to see me sometime this summer." "how nice that will be. won't you be glad to see her?" "in a way i will," was the slow, doubtful reply. "but i'm afraid that she'll want to take me away." "wouldn't you like to go with your mother? she must long for you so much." "but i don't know her, you see. she's a stranger to me. i know that i ought to love my mother, but somehow i can't." "oh!" the exclamation came suddenly from the woman's lips. she clasped her hands before her, and stared hard into space. so this was the outcome of it all? she said to herself. this was all that she had gained by her years of struggle and self-denial. she had won fame and money, but what did they amount to when her only boy was a stranger to her, and knew not what it was to love his mother? "you write to her, i suppose," she at last remarked. "oh, yes. every week i get a letter, and i always answer it. she sends me money, too." "does she? isn't that nice. you must have plenty of spending money, then." "no," and rod shook his head. "grandad puts it all into the bank for me. it is to stay there, so he says, until i grow up, and it will be enough then to send me to college." "and your grandfather never used any of the money your mother sent to pay for your board and clothing?" "not a cent of it. he said it wouldn't be right, because he loves me so much." the woman remained silent for some time, and rod thought that her face seemed very sad. perhaps she was tired. "guess we'd better go now, phil," and he turned to his companion who had not opened his lips once. "what, so soon?" the singer enquired, rousing from her reverie. "yes. mr. dexter, he's phil's father, will be waiting for us, and he'll think we are lost." "just a minute, rod," and the woman laid her hand lightly on his shoulder, "how would you like to go with me in the car to hillcrest tomorrow?" rod's eyes sparkled for an instant with pleasure. how he had often longed to ride along the road in a big car such as he had seen buzzing by. suddenly his face grew grave. "i'm afraid i can't," he slowly replied. "it will be late when you get there, and i must be at the concert to take my part. captain josh and the boys couldn't get along very well without me. i'm patrol leader, you know, and so must be there." the woman noted the brief struggle between pleasure and duty, and the decision pleased her. she was disappointed, nevertheless, as she was hoping to have his company next day. she concealed her feelings, however, and smiled upon the boys as she bade them good night as they stepped out of the elevator. then she turned back to the silence and solitude of her own room. chapter xix the surprise it was somewhat late as rod and phil hurried along the street toward the hotel where they and mr. dexter were to spend the night. this place was near the steamer, and it would not be far for them to catch the early boat next morning. it was a comfortable house, where countrymen generally stayed. only a few people did the boys meet as they moved on their way. presently they encountered a policeman, who looked at them very closely, and enquired where they were going. rod informed him, so with a warning that they should not be out so late, the official passed on. this was a new experience for the boys, and they were now fearful lest they should meet other policemen who might not be so lenient. they had just reached a dark place when they heard some one walking with a heavy tread on the opposite side of the street. thinking that it might be another policeman, the boys kept close together, and glided on as swiftly as possible. they did not run lest they should be heard. their hearts beat fast, and they glanced nervously from side to side. the ways of the city, especially at night, were strange and mysterious to them, and all kinds of dangers seemed to be lurking around. had they been on a country road they would have felt perfectly at ease. but here it was different. they had almost gained a part of the street where an electric light flooded the pavement, when they heard a cry behind them, and then a thud as of some one falling. they stopped and looked back, but all was shrouded in darkness. on the opposite side of the street they could hear sounds of struggling, while an occasional gasping cry fell upon their ears. "there's something wrong," rod whispered to his companion. "w-what d'ye s'pose it is?" was the frightened reply. "somebody is hurt, i guess. maybe that man we heard has been knocked down. it often happens in cities." "let's run," phil suggested, now trembling violently. "run where?" rod enquired. "to the hotel." "and leave that man to be killed! scouts don't do that," and rod straightened himself up with a jerk. "but what are we going to do?" "go after that policeman, see? he can't be far away. come!" the next instant the boys were bounding along the street after the policeman they had met but a few minutes before. fortunately they ran across him sooner than they had expected, for hearing the sound of hurrying footsteps, the official blocked the way, caught the lads by the shoulders, and demanded what they were running for. rod pantingly explained, and soon the three were hastening back to where the struggle had taken place. at first the policeman had been doubtful as to the truth of the story, but when he flashed his light upon the prostrate form of a man lying in the gutter, he gave vent to an exclamation of astonishment. the man was unconscious, and he was bleeding from a wound in the head. rod never forgot the look of that face lying there so white beneath the light of the lantern. it was the face of a man about thirty years of age, with a dark moustache, and a slight scar upon the right cheek. the policeman felt the man's pulse, and found that he was alive. he then placed a whistle to his lips and gave several long shrill blasts. he next enquired the names of the two boys, where they were from, and what they were doing out at that time of the night. to these questions rod answered in such a straightforward manner that the policeman was satisfied. "you had better get on now," he ordered, "but, remember, we'll want you in the morning to give evidence. don't leave the city until you get permission." though both the boys would like to have stayed to see what would be done with the unconscious man, they did not dare to disobey the policeman, so they hurried off, and at last reached the hotel. they found mr. dexter anxiously waiting their return, and to him they related what had happened on the street. "this is what comes of your galavanting around at such hours of the night," he growled. "you should have been in your beds long ago. and so we've got to wait, have we? this is a pretty state of affairs. i can't afford to stay here all day to-morrow. get away to bed now. you've done enough mischief for one night." rod went to bed, but he found it hard to sleep. his thoughts turned not only to the wounded man, but to the concert to be held the next day. suppose he could not get home in time to take his part, what would whyn and captain josh think, and how could they get along without him? early the next morning a message came summoning rod and phil to appear at the court room at ten o'clock. mr. dexter went with them, which was a great relief. everything was strange to the boys, and they were very nervous as they were examined and cross-questioned. but they both told what they knew in such a manner as to give much satisfaction. at last the police magistrate told them that they could go home, but must appear before him whenever they were needed. the newspapers that morning gave considerable space to the assault of the previous night. they told of the cowardly attack, and the assistance the two country boys had given, mentioning their names, and where they were from. the injured man was unknown, and though careful search was made, there was nothing found upon his person to identify him. he had no money, and it was believed that his pockets had been gone through by his assailants. he was taken to the hospital where he was lying unconscious, and in a serious condition. mr. dexter bought copies of both morning papers, which was a great extravagance for him. he was quite proud of the part his son had taken in the affair, and the notoriety which had come to his family. rod and phil read every word on their trip up the river that afternoon. it was the first time they had ever seen their names in print, and they felt very important. this was increased when they saw people looking at them, and pointing them out as the boys who had figured in the affair of the night before. parson dan's eyes opened wide with astonishment when he opened his paper, which arrived just before dinner, and read to his wife the story of the assault in the city. "well done for the boys!" he exclaimed, as he laid the paper aside, and began his meal. "i wish they had caught the rascals who did that deed." "the boys might have got badly hurt," mrs. royal replied. "i am very thankful that they escaped without any harm. what terrible things take place in cities. we live such quiet lives here that we little realise what is going on elsewhere." "i do hope that the police will get those fellows," the parson mused. "the paper says that there have been several hold-ups lately, and it is believed that they have been done by the same ones who made the assault last night. i am anxious to see rod to hear what he has to say." "perhaps the boys will have to stay as witnesses, daniel." "sure enough!" and the clergyman put down his cup he was about to raise to his lips. "i never thought of that. and this is the night of the concert, too. what will captain josh do without the boys? i must go over and tell him the news. it will certainly upset his plans, for he depended so much upon rod." that same morning anna royanna, while at breakfast, read the description of herself and her singing in the opera house. this did not greatly interest her, for she was beginning to weigh such articles at their true value. it was the custom now for papers to say pleasant things about her. it was the same wherever she went. she recalled the time, several years before, when the same newspapers had so begrudgingly given her a few lines concerning a certain performance of hers. she had to plead with the editors then. she was not famous, and how a sympathetic article would not only have encouraged but assisted her as well. now she was anna royanna, the noted singer, and a slight smile of contempt hovered about the corners of her mouth as she began to fold up the paper. just then something caught her eye, which caused her to pause, and look more closely. "rod royal" were the words she first saw, but they were enough to make her devour eagerly the whole story of the adventure of the previous night. she studied the two words which had first arrested her attention, paying no heed to her breakfast which was getting cold. neither did she notice the number of eyes turned upon her by various people in the room, for all were greatly interested in the famous singer, who had made such a remarkable hit the night before. there came to her again the picture of a sturdy little lad standing before her, with tousled auburn hair, pleading on behalf of an invalid girl away up in the country. then her mind went back to that terrible night when she had carried him to the door of the rectory, and left him to the mercy of those within. and now she was looking upon his name in the paper. he was hers, and yet he did not know her. it seemed to rod that the steamer would never reach hillcrest wharf. there were so many stops to make for passengers to disembark, and freight to be unloaded, that the boat was later than usual. he was almost certain that the concert would be over before they arrived. at last they were there, and the steamer's guard had scarcely touched the wharf, as he and phil leaped ashore. then they scurried down the road, leaving mr. dexter far behind. they were well aware that they had no time to go home for their scout suits, and this was a great disappointment. as they came in sight of the anchorage they saw many people moving about the grounds. rod waited to speak to no one, but hurried at once into whyn's room. the girl greeted him with a cry of joy. "oh, rod!" she exclaimed; "i am so glad you are back. captain josh is in a terrible state of worry." she was sitting by the open window where she could see all that was going on outside. it was a beautiful evening, and the sun of the long summer day was still high above the horizon. "how is everything going, whyn?" rod breathlessly enquired, as he wiped his hot face with his small handkerchief. "great," was the reply. "that is, so far. and only think, rod, miss arabella has been here all day helping mrs. britt. she is a wonder. she is selling refreshments now." "is grandad here?" rod asked. "yes, and everybody else, i guess. the summer people have turned out splendidly. there are several autos here, and so many strange people. i don't know any of them." as whyn mentioned the autos an expression of anxiety came into rod's eyes. he wondered if miss royanna had arrived. perhaps she was waiting for him. he must go and find out at once. left once more alone, whyn sat and watched all that was going on. her face was flushed with excitement, and her eyes sparkled with animation. but she was disappointed, nevertheless. the choir could not come, and so there would be no singing. several of the members were away, so parson dan had told her, and the others would not come without them. the people will think it so strange, she said to herself, and the scouts will feel badly. whoever heard of a concert without singing and music of some kind. ere long the crowd began to gather about the large platform which captain josh and the scouts had built in front of their club-room. then it was that the performance began. first came a staff-drill by all the boys. they did it well, and were called upon to repeat it. this was followed by signalling. the scouts were lined up, each holding two small flags in his hands. the captain in a deep voice called out the letters from a to z, and not one boy made a mistake. he next picked out letters at random, and closed by an exhibition of sending and receiving a short message. one boy stood about fifty yards away, and sent words which were received by another at headquarters. this won the hearty approval of the spectators, which rejoiced the hearts of the scouts. after this came military drill, and here the captain was in his element. one would have thought that he was on board of the _roaring bess_, giving orders to his crew. he paced up and down, shouting out in a tremendous voice, "right--turn!" "form--fours!" "quick--march!" "mark--time!" and so on. it was really excellent the way the boys rose to the occasion, showing to all what training and discipline could accomplish. they had barely finished their marching ere rod darted suddenly away toward the front of the anchorage, and as whyn followed him with her eyes she saw that he was hurrying to meet a large auto which had just arrived. several people were in the car, and soon they were accompanying rod to headquarters, which they entered. the watching girl was puzzled over this, and wondered who they could be. they must be people rod knew, and was expecting, she reasoned. but why did they go into the club-house instead of staying outside? presently she saw rod reappear and go straight to parson dan, who was sitting near a large willow tree. a short whispered conversation ensued, and then the clergyman followed the boy into the building. it seemed a long time to whyn before the former came out again, and when he did, he at once mounted the platform, and motioned the people to be quiet. this latter was hardly necessary, as all on the grounds had noticed the arrival of the strangers, and were naturally curious about them, especially as rod seemed so excited and delighted. "i have a great announcement to make," the clergyman began, "and i myself can hardly believe it is true. it seems that the scouts have sprung a complete surprise upon us of a most enjoyable nature, and i am almost overcome by their audacity. in order to make this affair an unbounded success, they invited the noted singer, miss anna royanna, to come here and sing. she complied with the request, and is now here." what more the clergyman said whyn did not know. with a half-smothered cry of delight, she leaned as far as she could toward the window in order to catch the first glimpse of the wonderful woman. tears came suddenly into her eyes as the meaning of what the scouts had done flashed into her mind. it was for her sake, she very well knew, that they had asked miss royanna to come. that was the reason why rod and phil had gone to the city. she understood it all just as plainly as if they had told her. and so she was to hear anna royanna after all! it seemed too good to be true. surely it must be only a beautiful dream. but, no, it was real, for there were the people before her, and the singer, too, now standing upon the platform by the clergyman's side. she heard the loud and excited cheers of the people, and saw the woman bowing in acknowledgment of the reception. what was that she was saying? that she was delighted to come to the entertainment; that she was very fond of boys, and when they had asked her to come she had not the heart to refuse. how soft and pleasing was her voice, so whyn thought. how nice she must be, and she longed to speak to her, and to look into her eyes. and to think that such a person had come all the way to hillcrest to sing for her benefit! but when miss royanna began to sing, whyn forgot everything else. there were various kinds of songs, both humorous and pathetic, but all simple and familiar, which appealed to the hearts of the listeners. last of all she sang "my little lad, god bless him!" and then went back into the building, followed by the clapping and cheering of the assembled people. whyn paid little attention to the excitement outside. she leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and listened once again to the sweet singer. how distinctly she could hear that voice, and the words of the last song. what a treat this would be to her for months to come. she must write at once to her mother and douglas and tell them of the great joy which had come into her life. she was aroused by voices outside the door. opening her eyes, great was her surprise to see the famous singer standing before her. parson dan was there, too, as well as mr. and mrs. markham, while rod brought up in the rear as bodyguard. but whyn had eyes only for one person, and her glad look of welcome went at once to miss royanna's heart. stepping quickly forward, she stooped and kissed the invalid girl. "we do not need any introduction," she said. "we are old friends, are we not? rod has told me about you." for once in her life whyn found it impossible to reply. her eyes were moist as she lifted them to the singer's face in mute admiration. "what a lovely room," the woman continued, noting whyn's embarrassment. "and you were able to see everything from the window. how nice." "and i heard you sing, too," whyn replied. "oh, it was great, and so good of you to come. i can never thank you enough." "don't try," and the woman smiled. "the enjoyment has been all on my side. it is the best time i have had in years." for about half an hour miss royanna stayed, but it seemed only a few minutes to the invalid girl. the rest went out and left them alone. it appeared to whyn as if heaven had suddenly opened, and an angel in the form of this singer had come down. she felt perfectly at ease now, and talked freely, telling about herself and her mother. it was only natural, however, that rod should form the principal object of conversation. in fact, miss royanna led the girl on to talk about him, and the mother's heart was made happy as whyn told how kind rod was to her, and what a fine boy he really was. "will you write to me, dear?" the singer asked, as she bade the girl good-bye. "oh, may i?" and whyn's face glowed with pleasure. "but you will not care to hear about our uninteresting affairs in hillcrest." "indeed i shall. tell me everything, and especially about rod. you see, i know him better than the rest." "will you come to see me again?" whyn enquired. "yes, just as soon as i can. i want to spend several weeks here in this lovely place. then i shall be right near you, and find out all about the scouts." "oh, how nice!" and whyn clasped her hands together. "i shall look forward to your coming. it will be something more to live for now." all the people on the grounds crowded around the car as the singer stepped on board. rod was standing right by the door, watching her face with great interest. how she longed to stoop, fold him in her arms, kiss mm, and proclaim that he was her own boy. but, no, not now. she must wait. waving her hand to the crowd, she was borne swiftly away, leaving the people with a great and new topic of conversation, which would last them for many a day. chapter xx the island adventure next morning the scouts met at the anchorage to find out how much money they had made. great was their delight to learn that they had taken in fifty dollars and seventy cents. it seemed too good to be true, and the only way they could account for the large sum was the money contributed by several men who had come in autos. they had paid a dollar apiece for their tickets, and had spent money liberally upon ice-cream, cake, and candy. no refreshments were left over, and but for the timely assistance of miss arabella there would not have been enough. it was in whyn's room where this meeting took place. captain josh said very little at first, for he was satisfied to let the rest do the talking. he was happy at the way the affair had turned out, and he wished to do something to celebrate the occasion. "boys," he at last began, after they had thoroughly discussed the entertainment and the singer, "we've had a great success, more than we ever expected, i feel now like doin' something desperate jist to relieve my feelings. suppose we make a trip to the island, and camp there all night. we've been talkin' about this fer some time, and as i have to go over to look after some nets i left there, it might as well be now as at any time. you boys have never spent a night in the open, and it'll do yez good to learn how to camp and cook. all scouts must know something about sich things." "shall we go to-day?" rod eagerly enquired. the big island had always been a fascinating place to him, and he longed to go there. he had heard many stories about it, and how much treasure had been buried there long ago by captain kidd. "yes, this afternoon," the captain replied. "we'll go in the _roarin' bess_, and tow the tender to take us ashore. you boys had better hustle away home now, and find out if yer parents will let yez go. ye must bring along a blanket or two each, and enough grub to last yez fer supper and breakfast. i'll look out fer the tea, milk, and the cookin' utensils. the ones who are goin' must be here by three o'clock sharp." rod hurried home and found parson dan reading the morning paper which had just arrived. "look here, rodney," and the clergyman pointed to the headlines of an article a column long. "see what the newspaper says about miss royanna, and how she came all the way to hillcrest to sing for the scouts." "what, is it all there, grandad?" and the boy eagerly scanned the page. "read it, please," and he perched himself upon a chair nearby. to him it was wonderful that the paper should make so much of what the singer had done. it told about the scouts, their entertainment, and how two of the boys had gone all the way to the city to ask miss royanna to go to hillcrest. "isn't it great!" and rod gave a deep sigh when the clergyman had finished. "how i wish miss royanna could live here all the time." "she took a great fancy to you, rodney," and the parson smiled upon the boy. "i like her," was the brief comment. during dinner rod asked permission to go to the island with captain josh and the rest of the scouts. after some discussion he was told that he could go, and when the meal was over mrs. royal began to prepare some food for him to take with him. "it will do the boy good," the parson told her. "the captain is most trustworthy, and camping out in the open for one night will do the boy no harm." parson dan had thought much about anna royanna's visit to hillcrest. he and mrs. royal had talked long and earnestly about the whole affair the night before. they tried to discover some reason why she should come all the way from the city to sing for a few country people, when she was in such great demand elsewhere. that it was for whyn's sake did not altogether satisfy them. they recalled the special interest she had taken in rod, and they felt proud that their boy should have received so much attention from such a woman. while driving along the road that afternoon, a new idea suddenly flashed into the parson's mind. "can it be possible?" he asked himself. so foolish did the notion seem that he tried to banish it from his thoughts. but this he found to be most difficult. why should she come all the way to hillcrest? and what about her great interest in rod, and that closing piece which she had sung in such a pathetic manner? stranger things had happened before, he mused. but they generally occurred in stories, and not in real life. anyway, it was interesting, though he decided to keep the idea to himself for awhile, to see if anything else would take place. captain josh and the boys had a great time that afternoon. the island was about one hundred acres in size, and for the most part wooded. they tramped all over it, and their excitement was intense when they saw the holes which had been dug there by gold-seekers. the boys longed for picks and shovels, that they, too, might dig. but the captain laughed at them. "there's no gold here, lads," he told them, "and ye'd be only fooled like others." "but did anybody ever find gold here, captain?" rod enquired. "not that i know of. but there have been some good jokes played upon people here, though," and the captain chuckled as some funny incident came into his mind. after supper was over that night, the scouts gathered around the bright camp-fire, and asked captain josh to tell them a story about gold-seeking on the island. the boys were stretched upon the ground, watching the fiery-tongued flames and the countless sparks as they soared up into the darkness. this was a new experience for them, and they were delighted. "what kind of a story d'yez want?" the captain asked. "a funny one," was the reply from all. "a funny one, eh?" and the old man scratched his head. "yes, the one which made you chuckle this afternoon," rod suggested. "oh, that one, ha, ha! sure i know all about it, fer i was there myself. i was younger then than i am now, and fond of an occasional joke. i heard that two men were goin' to hunt fer gold right over there by the shore near that big rock i showed yez to-day. they had been stuffed about buried gold, and so they were goin' to hunt fer it. i saw jim gibson, and asked him to join me in a little fun. we came over ahead, got things fixed up, and then waited jist behind that rock. it was dark as pitch when the men came, and from where we were hidden we could see them with their lanterns diggin' fer all they were worth right near that rock. we let them work away fer a spell, as we didn't want to spoil their fun too soon. but at last we began to groan and make queer noises. say, ye should have seen them men. they were almost scared out of their boots, fer they thought sure that ghosts were around. then, when they were shakin' all over, i pulled a string, and off came a black cloth we had put over a word which we had printed on the face of that rock." "what was the word?" rod eagerly enquired, as the captain paused for an instant. "it was the word 'death,' in big letters. i tell yez it must have glared out pretty ghastly in the night, fer the way them men yelled, and made fer their boat was something wonderful. ho, ho' i kin never think of them fellers, and the scare they got, without havin' a good laugh." "did they ever find out who did the trick?" phil asked. "not that i know of. but, somehow, word got around, and the lives of them men were made miserable by the questions they were asked about the gold on the island, and when they intended to go over and dig fer it." for some time the captain told other stories to the boys. most of these were about his experiences at sea, the gales he had encountered, and his numerous narrow escapes from death. it was a novel experience for the scouts to be lying there listening to these yarns, with the stars twinkling overhead. at last, however, their eyes became heavy and, wrapped in their blankets, they were soon sound asleep upon the hard ground. the captain sat for awhile before the dying embers, smoking his clay pipe. at length, knocking the ashes out of the bowl, he, too, stretched himself out full length near the scouts. rod was the last of the boys to go to sleep. his mind was busy with the joke the captain had told, and his experiences at sea. he thought, too, of the sweet singer, and wondered if he should ever see her again. when he did go to sleep he had a dream of a great crowd of men landing on the island, attacking the scouts, and carrying off a large chest of gold. from this dream he woke with a start, and sat up. for a moment he was dazed, and could not imagine where he was. then he remembered, and he was about to lie down again when the sound of a motor-boat fell upon his ears. he listened intently, wondering what people could be doing on the water at that time of the night. he could hear the regular breathing of his companions, and as his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he could make out the form of the captain lying not far off. the sound of the boat was more distinct now, and it appeared to be approaching the island. was his dream really coming true? rising, he groped his way to the captain's side, and touched his arm. light though it was, the captain suddenly woke, and asked who was there. in a few whispered words rod told him what he had heard. at this, the captain sat up, and listened. "sure enough," he remarked. "somebody's astir at a queer hour. guess we might as well look into this. come on, let's go and find out. but we must be very careful, and not talk out loud." together they made their way cautiously along the shore, keeping as close as possible to the edge of the forest. they had not gone far, however, before the motor-boat drew into the island on their right. then the engine slowed down and at last stopped, showing that those on board were about to land. "quick, let's get behind this rock," captain josh whispered. "they must not know that anybody is here." thus safely concealed, the two watchers waited and listened to find out what would take place. they soon heard the boat grate upon the gravel, then a lantern flashed, and two men were seen walking up the beach. "we might as well stay here," one of them said. "i'm dead beat. let's build a fire and get warm." "where's the stuff?" the other asked. "that'll warm ye better'n anything else. we can't afford to light a fire. it will be seen from the mainland, and we can't tell who might be prowlin' around." with an oath, the first speaker brought forth a bottle, and took a long deep drink, and then handed it to his companion. after this, they both went to the boat, got several blankets, carried them a short distance from the water, and spread them out upon the sand. "my, this is a better place than we spent last night," one of the men remarked. "should say so," replied the other. "but didn't we give the cops a slip, though? i thought fer sure they had us one time, when they were pokin' around that old ware-house. lucky fer us we were able to swipe that boat. suppose we divvy up now. you've got all the swag." with the lantern between them, the two men bent their heads, while one of them brought forth a pocket-book, and began to count out a number of bills. his voice was so low that the concealed watchers could not hear the amount. "there, that's better," the other at length ejaculated, thrusting the money into his pocket. "didn't we do that chap up fine? he put up quite a fight, though. but we landed him and his wad all right. i'd like to have got a rap at them kids at the same time. they nearly queered our job. now fer another drink, and then fer a good sleep. we must be out of this before daylight." for a few moments there was silence, as each man took his turn at the bottle. when they again spoke their voices were thick, which plainly told that the whiskey was having its effect. it was impossible to understand what they were saying. for awhile they conversed in a maudlin, complaining manner, and then knocked over their lantern, which went out. waiting for awhile, to be sure that the men were asleep, captain josh and rod slipped quietly away, and went back to their companions. it was with considerable difficulty that the boys were aroused and ordered not to make the least noise. captain josh explained what had taken place, and the conversation of the two men. "i believe they are the very ones who knocked that man down in the city, and stole his money," he said in a low voice. "now, they must not leave this island until the police take them away, and it's up to us to keep them here." "but what are we to do?" phil dexter enquired, his teeth chattering with fear. "leave that to me, lads," was the reply. "all i want yez to do is to get on board the _roarin' bess_ as quickly as possible. there mustn't be any talkin' or noise if we're goin' to carry this thing through, see?" chapter xxi the rounding up quietly and as speedily as possible the scouts boarded the tender, and soon reached the _roaring bess_. they shivered as they stood upon the yacht, and longed to be home in their own warm beds. a heavy fog was drifting up the river, which made the air very chilly. to most of the boys this meant greater discomfort, but to the captain it brought considerable satisfaction. it was just what he needed to aid him in his undertaking. in a few low words he outlined his plan to the scouts, and told those who remained behind to be perfectly still. there were several blankets he had stored away in a locker, which they could use to make them comfortable. taking with him only rod and phil, as they were the oldest boys, the captain entered the tender, seized the oars, and began to pull away straight for the motor-boat. the fact that this latter had been run ashore made him certain that it was a small boat, and could, therefore, be easily drawn off the beach. the tide had risen somewhat since the robbers had landed, which would make the task much easier. the fog was now thicker than ever, which made it necessary to advance very cautiously. rod crouched in the bow, with his eyes fixed intently ahead. for a time he could see nothing, as everything was blotted out by the fog. the heavy moisture dampened his clothes, and drifted into his face. phil was seated astern, shivering with cold and fear. he had no liking for this adventure, and would rather be back on the yacht. presently rod caught sight of the motor-boat, and whispered to the captain to go slow. soon they were near the shore, and as they drew up close to the strange craft they found that she was floating on the rising tide, and was almost adrift. with difficulty the captain suppressed a chuckle of satisfaction, as he quickly made a rope fast to the motor-boat, gave it to rod, seized once more his oars, and swung the tender about, and drew away from the shore. when at a safe distance from land he fastened the rope to the bow of the motor-boat, tied it to the seat of the tender, and then with a sigh of relief settled down to long steady strokes. not a word was spoken now, but the three night adventurers thrilled with excitement. the boys felt no longer cold, as they were so excited over what they had accomplished. after some hard pulling, the captain drew up alongside of the yacht. the rest of the scouts were eagerly awaiting his return. "there's no wind," the captain remarked, "so that thing's got to tow us out of this. i guess i know enough about an engine to handle that one all right. rod, you steer the yacht, while i manage that old tub." though the fog was still thick, the light of early morn was making itself felt which was of much assistance as the captain scrambled on board the motor-boat. it took him but a few moments to examine the engine, start it, and head the boat out into the middle of the river, with the _roaring bess_ and tender trailing behind. when everything was going to his complete satisfaction, he leaned back and fairly shook with suppressed laughter. he knew now that he had those rascals prisoners for a few hours at least, and in that time much could be done. the engine was of six horse-power, and the craft an ordinary rafting-boat, built especially for towing. it accordingly made good progress up the river, and in about an hour's time the captain was able to pull up at hillcrest wharf. he came here instead of going to his own shore on purpose to send a telephone message to the city. he had thought all this out, and knew that there was no time to be lost. near the wharf lived the storekeeper, who had charge of the telephone, and with some difficulty he was awakened by heavy thumps upon the door of his house. he was astonished to see captain josh standing outside, and it was several minutes before he realised what was wanted. "want to telephone, eh?" he at last queried. "sure. haven't i been tryin' to tell ye that fer the last five minutes?" "very important?" "should say so. d'ye s'pose i'd be prowlin' around at this time of the mornin' if it wasn't?" it took the storekeeper some time to get central in the city, and to become connected with the police station. then the captain stepped to the 'phone and gave his message. "they're on the island now," he said in conclusion, "and i'll keep a good watch out. ye'd better send some men up at once. "they're a stupid lot of blockheads down there," he growled, as he hung up the receiver. "they didn't know where kidd's island is--jist think of that. and they wanted to know how long it would take a motor-boat to reach the place." "i guess they'll get a hustle on, though," the storekeeper replied. "i see there's a reward of one hundred dollars offered for the capture of those robbers." "there is!" the captain exclaimed. "how did ye hear that?" "why, it was in yesterday morning's paper. here it is; you can read it for yourself." "well, i declare!" and the captain scratched his head. "i didn't see that. h'm, 'for the capture of the men who assaulted and robbed an unknown man at sheer's alley,'" he read. "guess we'll come in fer that money, or i'm much mistaken." "but you haven't captured them yet," the store-keeper reminded him. "we've got them over there, though," the captain retorted. "but they're not captured yet, remember. you haven't got your hands on them. i don't believe you can claim that money unless you give those chaps up to the police." the captain went back to the boat in a very thoughtful mood. the offer of the reward placed the whole affair in a new light now. one hundred dollars! it was just what the scouts needed to help them, and it would be money well earned, at that. what a pity to let others win the reward after what he and the boys had done. all the scouts except rod had gone home, and this was for the best. the captain did not want too many around lest they should spoil the plan he had in his mind. making the _roaring bess_ fast to the wharf, he and rod boarded the motorboat and started for home. it took them only a few minutes to reach the shore, and they surprised mrs. britt as she was lighting the kitchen fire. "stay and have breakfast with us, rodney," was her friendly invitation, after the captain had briefly related their experience on the island. "you must be hungry after such an adventure." rod was only too willing to remain, and during the meal they discussed all that had taken place during the night. "we must take those rascals ourselves," the captain remarked. "it would never do to allow the police to come here and land them after we have done the rounding up." "but how will we do it?" rod enquired. "maybe they carry revolvers. won't they shoot us down if we go near them?" "leave that to me, lad," and the captain smiled as his eyes roved to a rifle standing in a corner of the room. "but come, we haven't any time to lose. i imagine the police are on their way now. it will take them from one and a half to two hours to run up from the city. it all depends upon what kind of a boat they've got. i expect it will be a fast one, though, fer they can't afford to dilly-dally." with nothing to tow now, it did not take them long to reach the island. they landed near where the scouts had camped during the night, and pulling the boat well up on the shore, they made their way to the place where they had left the robbers. the captain went ahead, while rod followed close at his heels. the boy's heart was beating fast now, for he knew that a great adventure was soon to take place. he felt proud that the captain had chosen him for this important undertaking, and he was determined not to show the least sign of fear no matter what happened. as they approached the place they advanced most cautiously, bending low, and stepping softly so as not to make the slightest noise. reaching the big rock, they crouched behind it for a few seconds, and listened. hearing nothing, the captain peered carefully over the edge. drawing quickly back, he motioned to rod not to make the least sound. "they're jist wakin' up," he whispered, "and there's bound to be trouble when they find their boat gone." this was exactly what happened. soon the voices of the men were heard in an excited conversation. the captain again looked upon them from his concealed position and saw them straining their eyes in an effort to locate their boat. "she's gone adrift," one of them exclaimed. "why didn't ye tie her?" and he turned angrily upon his companion. "it was as much your business as mine," was the retort. "ye always blame me fer everything. but it's no use wranglin' over it now. we've overslept ourselves, and a pretty mess we're in. if we don't get that boat we're stuck on this island." "maybe she's drifted along the shore somewhere," the other suggested. "there's been no wind, so she can't be far away." "there's a tide, though, which is just as bad. this is a mess, sure." "well, talkin' won't do any good," his companion replied. "i'm goin' to hunt along the shore." he had taken but a step when a deep voice from above startled him, causing him to pause and look quickly up. as he did so, his face underwent a marvellous change of fear and rage, for there was the captain, looking calmly along the barrel of his rifle. "stay jist where ye are," was the imperative order. "if one of yez move, i'll shoot quicker'n blazes. yer boat's all right, so don't worry about her." a stream of angry oaths now leaped from the robbers' lips, as they realised the helplessness of their position. they did not dare to move, as they were too close to the frowning muzzle of the over-shadowing rifle. "it's no use to talk that way," the captain warned, "so jist shet yer dirty mouths. i've heard sich gab before, and it doesn't jar me in the least." "who are you, anyway?" one of the men demanded, "and how dare ye hold us up? ye'll pay dear fer this." "is that so? it doesn't matter who i am; ye'll find that out soon enough." "what d'ye mean?" was the reply. "never mind. i'm not here to argue with the like of you. there'll be others who kin do that better. all that i want yez to do now is to behave yerselves, and do as i order." "well, what d'ye want us to do? spit it out, and don't be long about it either." "don't git on yer high-horse," the captain warned. "i'm not used to be talked to in that manner. i never allowed it when i was aboard the _flyin' queen_, and i guess i'm too old to change now. what i want yez to do is to strip off yer duds, that is, yer pants and jackets." "do what?" "didn't ye hear me? git out of yer duds, but keep yer faces this way. don't lower yer eyes, or i'll shoot." at this strange order the foiled men stared in amazement, and for once their tongues were silent. "d'ye hear me?" the captain roared. "strip at once, or i'll blow yer measly carcasses to pieces. never mind the reason; i'll keep that to myself." seeing that their captor was not to be fooled with any longer, the prisoners did as they were commanded, and soon they were standing in nothing but their underclothes. they suspected now the purpose of this move, and their hearts filled with rage. "there, that's better," the captain commented. "i'm glad to see that ye're so obedient. it has saved yez from a great deal of trouble at present. but before we go on with our interestin' proceedin's, i want yez to go down there by the water. git along with yez," he continued, as the men hesitated. "don't worry about yer clothes; they'll be all right. my, yez do look fine. too bad there isn't a picnic of some kind here this mornin'. but, then, i guess that'll come later." when the men had obeyed his orders, and were standing close to the edge of the water, the captain moved about the edge of the rock, closely followed by rod. he kept his eyes fixed upon the robbers, and then ordered the boy to gather up the clothes and carry them up among the trees. seeing what was being done, the cornered men once more gave vent to their feelings. "talk all yez like now," the captain remarked, as he sat down upon a drift-log. "it'd be a pity to spoil yer enjoyment, seein' that soon ye won't be able to talk so free." by this time rod had placed the clothes in a safe place and, coming back, sat down by the captain's side. "did ye bring the guns with ye?" the latter asked. "yes, here they are," and rod held up two revolvers. "i found them in the pockets, and thought it best to bring them with me." "ye did right, lad," and the captain took one in his hand. "fine weapon, that, and loaded up to the muzzle. wouldn't yez like to have it, eh?" and he held it out to the captives. "too bad, isn't it, that i've got to keep it? but this toy isn't safe fer every one to handle, so i'll look after both myself." by this time the fog had begun to lift from the face of the water, and in the distance the outline of the shore of the mainland could be faintly discerned. then houses and hills came into view. the sun had already started forth on its daily course, and was now swinging over the tops of the pointed pines which lined the upper end of the island. the fog gradually disappeared, fading away in soft filmy wreaths. not a breath of wind stirred the surface of the water. the captain often turned his eyes down stream for some sign of the boat from the city. why were the police so long in coming? he asked himself. he had expected them at the island in two hours at the most, and still they were nowhere in sight. he was getting very impatient sitting there, keeping the captives under such strict guard. he determined to have something to say later about the slowness of the police. he would write an article for the paper, that was what he would do. if that was the way they always acted, was it any wonder that crimes were so frequent? another hour passed, and when the captain's patience was strained to the utmost, a large motor-boat suddenly rounded the lower end of the island, and slowed up right in front of where the capture had taken place. a number of men were on board, who looked curiously upon the strange scene before them. an officer, with several of his men, came ashore, when the two robbers were at once hand-cuffed, and hustled on board the boat. rod now brought down their clothes, which were thoroughly searched, and everything taken from the pockets. "it took yez a mighty long time to come from the city," captain josh at length blurted out. "it was the fog which delayed us," the officer explained. "we couldn't see a foot ahead of us." "h'm, so that was the trouble," and the captain gave a grunt of disgust. "why didn't ye bring some one along who knows the river? i've been holdin' them chaps down fer three solid hours. i guess the lad here and me have earned our money this time all right." "what money?" the officer sharply asked. "the reward, of course; the hundred dollars offered fer the capture of them chaps." "oh, we'll look after that," was the nettled reply. "ye will, will ye? i guess ye'll git up earlier than ye did this mornin' if ye do. i'll stand by my scouts, and don't let me catch ye tryin' any tricks on me. there, ye'd better git off now, fer i want to go home. take good care that them chaps don't git away. come, rod, let's be off." chapter xxii a new adventure there was considerable excitement in hillcrest over the capture of the two robbers. never before had such a thing happened in their quiet community, and it formed a choice subject of conversation for many weeks. the city papers made much of it, and commended captain josh and the scouts upon what they had done. one morning paper which was very favourable to the scout movement, had a special editorial on the subject, under the heading of "the lone patrol." it pointed out how much good a few boys in outlying districts could accomplish when properly organised and trained. it told also of the visit of anna royanna to this patrol, and how she had sung at their entertainment. all this was very pleasant reading to the people of hillcrest, and the ones who had looked with disfavour upon the movement were now anxious to assist. a number of parents who had formerly refused to allow their boys to join came to the captain, and asked him to undertake the training of their sons. "not jist now," the captain told them. "i have all that i kin handle at present. i must git the ones i have licked into shape before tryin' my hand upon any more." these requests were most gratifying to captain josh, and he smiled grimly at the thought of the change which had come over the people. it was sweet revenge, as well, to be able to refuse the very ones who had talked most against the scouts when they were first organised. but this had nothing to do with his not taking the boys, for the captain was too big a man for that. he really desired first of all to train the few scouts he had to the best of his ability. it was not quantity he wanted, but quality, and he was determined that his one patrol should be looked upon with pride by all in hillcrest, and to belong to it would be considered a great honour by any boy. parson dan and mrs. royal were much pleased at the part rod had taken in the capture of the robbers. they talked it all over with the captain when he came over to see them the very next day. "the boys did fine," the old man proudly remarked. "they know how to hold their tongues and obey orders, which is more than many older people kin do." rod fairly walked on air, and held his head very high. the thrill of adventure now filled his soul, and he longed for something more to happen. it was a long quaint letter he wrote to anna royanna in reply to the one she had sent him. he told all about the adventure on the island, the capture of the robbers, and how he and phil had gone to the city with the captain as witnesses. he mentioned, also, that they had received the one hundred dollars' reward, and had put it in the bank with the rest of the scout money. it seemed so easy and natural for him to write to this woman. he was sure that she was interested in everything that went on at hillcrest. "i hope you will come to see us again," he wrote in conclusion. "whyn speaks about you every day, and so do all the rest of the scouts." mrs. royal smiled at these words when rod showed her the letter he had written. it was true in a way that whyn was really a scout, in fact, a very vital part of the patrol. the letter which rod wrote to his mother was very different from that to the singer. it was brief, and not bubbling over with information as was the other. he found it hard to tell her about the things which interested him, and he did not ask her to come soon. he was too much afraid that she would arrive and take him away. a woman far away smiled sadly as she read these two letters, with different addresses on the envelopes. she could see at a glance the boy's interest in the singer, and what a pleasure it was for him to write that letter. but the other, to his mother, was a task, a mere duty, the sooner done, the better. but then, she knew that it was only natural, and she longed for the time to come when letters would not be needed, and rod would know the truth. no one in the whole parish of hillcrest was more interested in what had taken place than whyn. she was never tired of talking about the capture, and the winning the reward. it was a great letter which she wrote to douglas, telling him all that had recently happened in the little hillcrest world. whenever the scouts gathered in her room, she discussed plans with them, and listened to their various experiences. these latter were now confined to drill, studying for the new badges, and sailing with the captain on the river. by this time the scouts had one hundred and fifty dollars in the bank, which to them seemed a great sum. several were quite satisfied with the amount. but whyn was of a different opinion. "we must make it two hundred, at least," she told them. "it is time to get to work and raise that other fifty, for it will not do to stop when we have made such a good start." summer passed, and fall came in with the long evenings, and still the scouts had not hit upon any plan of increasing their bank account. they had all kinds of suggestions, but after they had been thoroughly discussed, they were found to be of little value. some were too foolish, while others were beyond their power. it was whyn who at last solved the problem. in reality, it was her mother who made the suggestion to her during her recent visit. the invalid was delighted, and could hardly wait for the scouts to come to see her. "i know what you can do," she told them, when they had settled themselves about the room in their usual manner. "you can make wreaths for the churches in the city. they will need them for christmas decorations." "make wreaths!" was the surprised exclamation of all. "yes. don't you understand? you have them in the church here every christmas, don't you?" "certainly," rod replied. "we make them out of hemlock, and club-moss. but i didn't know you could sell them." "you can in the city," whyn explained, "for mamma told me so. they will bring from four to five cents a yard. wouldn't it be great for us to make up a whole lot, say five hundred yards? let me see, that would be twenty or twenty-five dollars. just think of that!" and the girl's eyes danced with excitement. then followed an animated discussion as to the kind of wreaths they should make, and the best time to do the work. all this was settled by the entrance of captain josh. he entered heartily into the plan, much pleased at the interest of the scouts in raising more money. "guess we'd better begin upon the club-moss first," was his decision. "the snow'll be here soon, so while the ground is bare we kin gather as much as we'll need. we kin git the hemlock any old time. we kin work at nights, and on saturday afternoons, and betsey'll be glad to give a hand. i'm afraid i don't know much about sich things. if there is any splicin' to do, or special knots to tie, jist call on me. if it had anything to do with sailin' vessels i could help considerable. but riggin' up churches is not in my line. howsomever, i'll help all i kin." the very next saturday captain josh led his scouts into the woods to gather their first supply of club-moss. he carried his rifle with him. there was a black fox in the neighbourhood, which had been seen by several, and the captain longed to get sight on it "jist fer one little instant," as he had remarked. phil had his small dog with him, which annoyed the captain. "i wish ye'd left that critter home," he growled. "it'll scare away everything fer miles around. what's the use of bringin' my gun when that thing's along?" "gyp wouldn't stay," phil explained. "i tied him up, but he chewed through the rope." "h'm," the captain grunted, "i guess he'd eat through a chain by the looks of him. he's about the toughest brute i ever set my eyes on. does he ever eat people?" a hearty laugh from the boys was the only reply to the captain's sarcastic remark. they were in great spirits, and the tramp through the woods filled them with joy. it was merely a winter-road they followed, used by farmers for bringing out their logs and fire-wood. it was very crooked, too, and rough, but in a short time the deep snow would cover up the latter defect, and the jingle of bells would echo among the trees. now it was the talk and laughter of the boys which alone disturbed the peaceful silence. after having walked a little over half an hour, they came to a place, somewhat open, and here they found club-moss in abundance lining the ground. to their left, the rippling of the brook could be heard flowing on its way to the river. ahead of them stood the thick forest of pine, fir, and spruce. it was a cool november day, and when the boys started from home their warm mittens had felt good. but the brisk tramp had set their blood in rapid circulation, and with bare hands they now gathered the moss and stuffed it into bags which they had brought with them. they worked with a hearty good-will, vying with one another, each striving to have his bag full first. their task was almost finished, when gyp's savage barking up among the thick trees arrested their attention. "let's go and see what he's got," rod suggested. "oh, it's only a squirrel he's treed," the captain contemptuously replied, straightening himself up for an instant from his bent position. "it's all that critter's good fer. if he'd something big it'd be worth while." for a few moments longer the boys worked in silence. but they could not keep their attention away from gyp, whose barks were now becoming more savage and insistent than ever. that he was in a great state of excitement was quite evident. even the captain was at last forced to take notice. "it does seem that he has something more'n a squirrel," he remarked. "maybe it's a coon he's got up a tree. they're thick over there along that bank. guess we might as well go and see what's up, anyway." at this the boys were delighted. they wanted to explore the deep recesses of that forest, and now that there was some excitement there made the longing all the greater. they followed in indian fashion after the captain, who strode rapidly forward, with his rifle in his right hand. gyp's barking sounded louder the nearer they approached. the boys as well as the captain strained their eyes ahead, anxious to find out what was the matter with the dog. for awhile they could see nothing through the net-work of trees and branches. but as they came close to the high steep bank overhanging the brook, they peered forward and caught their first glimpse of the excited dog. in front of him was a huge fallen spruce tree, with its roots projecting outward, like spokes in a great wheel. this tree had been lying there for years, and across it had fallen numerous small saplings and dead branches, until from a distance it assumed the appearance of a native african hut. the roots of this tree were only a few feet from the edge of the steep gravelly bank, and this, together with a furious gale, had been the cause of the spruce's fall. between two of the perpendicular roots, which were partly embedded in the ground, was a large hole, before which gyp was making all the fuss. the stiff hairs on his back stood straight on end, and he kept leaping constantly forward and backward, wild with excitement. with considerable difficulty the captain thrust the dog aside, and with the rifle firmly clutched in his hands, he stooped in order to obtain a view of what was within. scarcely had he done so, ere a deep growl and roar startled him, while at the same time a large black bear hurled itself like a catapult from among the roots. taken by complete surprise, the captain reeled backward, dropping the rifle as he did so in an effort to maintain his balance. before he could do this, however, he had gone over the edge of the bank, and after him went the bear. down that steep incline man and beast rapidly ploughed their way, taking with them a small avalanche of stones and gravel. at the bottom of the bank was a pool of water about two feet deep, and into this they plunged, the captain in a sitting position, and the bear upon its back. then followed a wild scramble as each endeavoured to get out first. the bear succeeded better than the man, for the captain had injured his knee, which made it difficult for him to move quickly. had this been a young bear he would have taken to his heels at once, and disappeared among the trees. but being an old-timer, and not a bit cowardly, he had no intention of running away. he was very angry at being disturbed when he had his house all ready for his long winter sleep. then that tumble down the bank into the water was more than his bearish nature could stand, and he was ready for fight. he scrambled out of the water, and rushed toward the captain. the latter had no chance at all with his injured knee, and with nothing to defend himself. it was a critical moment, but he braced himself up, fumbled in his pocket for his clasp-knife, and then faced bruin, who was now standing, on his hind legs ready for the attack. when captain josh and the bear disappeared over the bank the boys stared in amazement, which soon changed to fear when they saw what the animal really was. they crowded together, and it needed but a word to cause most of them to rush panic-stricken from the place. it was rod who saved the situation. no sooner had the captain and the bear reached the water, than he sprang forward, seized the rifle, and leaped down the bank. he had much difficulty in keeping his feet, and several times he thought that he would lose his balance and tumble head-long into the pool below. he managed, however, to keep from falling by digging his feet into the gravel, and thus step by step moved quickly downward. rod knew something about the captain's rifle, as on several occasions he had been shown how it worked, and once, which was a red-letter day to him, he had been allowed to fire it off. it was quite fortunate that the boy had this slight knowledge, which now served him in good stead. rod saw the bear rise on its hind legs, and he knew from stories he had read that this was the ordinary method of attack. he could not afford to lose a moment, he was well aware, if the captain was to be saved. creeping close to where the bear was standing, he drew back the hammer, took steady aim at the brute's body, and pulled the trigger. at once there was a loud report, and rod was sent reeling backward as if hit on the shoulder by a huge rock. for an instant he imagined that the bear had struck him with its paw, but a shout from the captain caused him to scramble to his feet. then his eyes rested upon the black form of the bear lying upon the ground but a short distance away. "is it dead?" he asked, hurrying over to where the captain was standing. "dead! doesn't he look like it?" was the reply, as the old man laid a heavy hand affectionately upon the boy's shoulder. "that was a great shot, lad, and jist in the nick of time. my! i was sure he was goin' to have me fer dinner. that would have been a slower and more painful death fer the brute, ha, ha!" chapter xxiii first aid by this time the rest of the scouts had scrambled down the bank, much ashamed of themselves for their recent fear. they were now most anxious to do all they could to assist the captain. they soon learned that he was unable to walk, for in addition to his injured knee he had sprained his ankle. he tried to take a few steps in order to show the boys that he was not much hurt. but this was more than he could endure, and he gave a deep groan of pain as he sank down upon the ground. "it's nothin', lads," he growled, somewhat annoyed at the accident. "yez better go home and git a team to take the bear out. i'll stay and keep him company till yez come back. he might be jist fooling and will sneak off into the woods. we can't afford to run any risk." "we'll not leave you, captain," rod stoutly protested. "you're soaked with water, and you'll get a bad cold if you stay here. we'll carry you home." "carry me!" the captain exclaimed in surprise. "yez couldn't tote a heavy log like me all that distance." "we're going to try, anyway. we're scouts, remember, and you have often told us what to do in a case like this. i guess the bear will be all right. he looks quiet enough now." there was nothing for the captain to do but to submit, and though he growled somewhat at what he called their foolishness, yet he was pleased at their interest on his behalf. the boys at once set to work to prepare a stretcher for their wounded scoutmaster. with a scout axe, rod cut down several small maples, trimmed off the leaves, and cut them the necessary length. he then asked the captain for his coat, as it was the largest they could get. through the sleeves of this they ran two of the poles, which thus formed one end of the stretcher. then taking off their own coats they did the same to the other end. it took five of theirs to equal the captain's, and even then they were afraid that all combined would not bear the man's weight. in addition to the coats, the scouts fastened their leather belts together, and stretched these between the poles for greater support. the captain was greatly pleased at the speedy way in which the boys did this work. but he had his doubts about their being able to carry him home. he weighed about one hundred and seventy pounds, which would mean over forty pounds to each of the four scouts who would take their turn at the stretcher. rod thought of this and a new idea came suddenly into his mind. picking up two of the other maple saplings he had cut, he placed them crosswise beneath the stretcher, and stationed a scout at each end. when all was ready, the captain rolled himself upon the rude contrivance which had been made, and told the boys to go ahead. at once the eight scouts stooped and without any difficulty lifted him from the ground. they were delighted to find that not a sleeve ripped, and not a belt gave way. it was decided that they should follow the brook down-stream for a distance until they came to the old winter-road. by doing this they would escape the thick woods, as well as the climb up the steep bank. it was a rough trip, and the captain was jolted a great deal. "don't make me sea-sick," he warned, when he swayed more than usual. "ugh!" he groaned, as one of the boys slipped upon a rock, and dropped the end of his pole. "i've been over many rough seas in my life, but nothin' to equal this. steady, there," he cried, as the swaying motion increased. "ah, that's better," he encouraged, when they at length reached the winter-road. the scouts enjoyed the captain's remarks. he cheered them when they did well, and made them rest occasionally. but it was a heavy load they were bearing, and right glad were they when at last they reached the anchorage, and handed over their charge to mrs. britt. that afternoon phil's father took his horses and went with the scouts to bring in the bear. several able-bodied men accompanied them, for news had spread from house to house of what had taken place up the brook. it was almost sundown, when they returned, and quite a crowd of neighbours were gathered around the captain's house to see the bear which rod had shot. the scouts were delighted with their adventure, and each considered himself a hero when he met other boys in the parish. whyn was greatly excited over the whole affair, and had to hear every detail from the captain himself. her eyes sparkled with pleasure when she learned of the brave part rod had taken. she was wise enough, however, not to praise rod when the rest of the scouts were present, for she knew that they would be jealous. but when he was alone with her one afternoon, she told him just what she thought. "i think you did great," she exclaimed, after they had talked for awhile about the bear. "oh, i didn't do much," was the reply. "yes, you did. if it hadn't been for you, the bear would have killed the captain. he told me so himself." "well, i'm glad i was there to save him. it was my good turn, that's all, and one must never expect praise for that. but, say, whyn, have you seen the bear's skin? it's a beauty. the neighbours skinned it, and phil's father is going to take it to the city. he thinks that he can sell the meat as well, for some people like it to eat." "what a letter i shall write to douglas," the girl replied, as she clasped her hands together. "isn't it great, the many wonderful things i have to write about!" "and i shall write to miss royanna," rod declared. "i know she will like to hear about that bear, though she will be so sorry that the captain got hurt." "and will you write to your mother?" whyn asked. "yes, i suppose so. but i don't know whether she's interested in bears or not. but i know that miss royanna is, for she's interested in everything. say, whyn," and rod lowered his voice, "i wish she was my mother; wouldn't it be great?" "oh, rod!" and the girl looked her astonishment. "there, i knew you'd say that. but i can't help it. i don't know my mother, and how can i love some one i have never seen? i suppose she'll land here some day and take me away. she said that she was coming last summer, but she put it off, lucky for me." after the excitement over the bear had somewhat subsided, the scouts settled down to the work of making wreaths. for awhile this was carried on in the kitchen of the anchorage, as the captain wished to be on hand, and to give what assistance he could. it was several weeks before he was able to bear his foot to the ground, and this was a most trying time to him. such an active life had he always led that to be confined to the house was hard for him to endure. whyn was also able to be present, and sat in the big chair the captain had made, and watched with interest all that took place. she made a few wreaths herself, though she was not able to do much, as she tired very quickly. the scouts liked to have her with them, and she was often able to instruct them, and to pass judgment upon their work. another valuable helper was miss arabella. it was quite remarkable the way she "happened along," as she expressed it, whenever the boys met for wreath-making. in fact, she and the captain became quite friendly, which was a great surprise to all. "guess ye'll have to be scoutmaster, miss bella," he told her one evening. "goodness me!" was the startled reply. "i couldn't handle a bunch of boys." "and why not, miss bella?" "they're too much like men; always wanting something, and never satisfied when they get it." "so that's the reason ye never got a man, eh? ho, ho!" and the captain gave a gruff laugh. "yes," miss arabella snapped. "i was afraid he might be just like you, captain josh," at which retort the boys shouted with delight, while the captain, too, was highly amused at the fun which had been caused at his own expense. thus on the nights when the work of making the wreaths was carried on an excellent spirit of friendship prevailed. neighbours, hearing of the good times at the anchorage, often dropped in to assist the scouts. on several occasions they brought refreshments, such as sandwiches, cakes, and doughnuts, which added very much to the enjoyment of the evenings. the neighbours were so pleased with these social gatherings that they were very sorry when the wreaths were all made and sent to the city. they had experienced the pleasure of meeting together during the long winter evenings, and there was now a serious blank in their lives. they accordingly decided that something must be done, with the result that a small club was formed, which met once a week at the scouts' headquarters. the women brought their knitting or sewing, while the men were allowed their pipes. there was a programme arranged for each night, consisting of songs, recitations, and at times a debate on some familiar subject. the scouts were only too glad that their elders were so interested in thus gathering together, and they did all they could to keep the room clean, and make it as bright as possible. they themselves met twice a week, and when the captain was able to get around, the regular scout work was continued. captain josh had studied hard to keep ahead of the boys, and in this he did remarkably well. but when it came to giving addresses on first aid to the injured, he candidly confessed his ignorance. "give me a broken rope," he said, "and i'll splice it in no time. but a broken bone is too much fer me. as fer veins, arteries, bandaging, and sich things, ye can't expect an old man like me to understand about them. no, we've got to leave that to some one else." and that some one proved to be doctor travis, a young man who had recently settled in the parish. he was much interested in the scouts, and hearing of their need through parson dan, he offered his services free, which were gratefully accepted by the scouts. it was a raw winter night when the doctor gave his first lecture to the boys. a stiff wind was swinging in from the northeast, plainly telling that a heavy storm was near at hand. but safe within their warm room, the scouts gave no heed to what was taking place outside. they listened with intense interest as the doctor explained to them what a wonderful machine the human body really is, the difference between veins and arteries, the various kinds of fractures, and other things necessary for a second-class scout to know. the lecture was as interesting as a story, and the doctor was delighted at the attention of the scouts. the large chart made everything so clear, and impressed firmly upon the minds of the boys the things they had heard. it was half-past nine when they were through, and when the door was opened, all were surprised to find such a furious storm raging over the land. it had been snowing for some time, and drifts were already piling up around headquarters. "ye must stay with me to-night," captain josh told the doctor. "we kin put ye up all right, and in the mornin' ye'll have a chance to see whyn. i want ye to have a look at her, anyway, fer she's not been up to the mark of late." thus the doctor made up his mind to remain, and he bade good night to the boys as they left the room, and plunged out into the storm. "take care of yerselves, boys," the captain shouted, "and don't git lost." such a warning was needed, for no sooner had the scouts left the building than the storm struck them in all its fury. the night was so dark that they could not see a yard ahead of them. but the road to the main highway was fenced in, and so they were kept from going astray. rod led, and with bent heads the rest followed. step by step they pressed onward, with the snow driving full into their faces. it was cold, too, and the wind, piercing their clothes, chilled them. it was fortunate that they had not far to go, else they would have found it almost impossible to reach their homes on such a night. they had gained the highway, and rod had just turned to leave his companions, who lived in the opposite direction, when he stumbled and fell over something lying in the snow. his cry of surprise soon brought the rest of the scouts to his side. regaining his feet, rod felt with his hands to see what the object was over which he had tumbled. "it's a man!" he shouted, straightening himself suddenly up. "maybe he's frozen. come and let's carry him back to the house." chapter xxiv the prodigal son captain josh and the doctor were enjoying the tea which mrs. britt had ready for them, when the scouts arrived bringing the man they had found in the snow. he was a heavy load, and the boys were almost exhausted by the time they reached the house. in a few brief words rod explained how they had discovered him, and then the doctor at once examined the unfortunate man. soon all was in a bustle about the place, and not until the unconscious man was attended to and in bed, did the boys leave to begin once more their battle against the storm. the stranger was a man of about thirty years of age, heavily bearded. his face had the appearance of one who had experienced much suffering, and his staring eyes were deep-sunken in their sockets. mrs. britt had given him only a brief glance, but that was sufficient to remind her of one who was constantly in her mind. when the captain and the doctor were again back in the kitchen discussing the stranger, she stole to his side, and looked intently upon his face. she held the light close, and as she did so she trembled so violently that she almost let the lamp fall from her hand. recovering herself, she went immediately to her husband's side and touched his shoulder. "it's jimmy!" she cried, clasping her hands before her. "it's our own boy!" with a startled exclamation, the captain sprang to his feet, and looked questioningly at his wife. "jimmy, did you say? in there?" "yes, i am sure of it. come, see for yourself," and mrs. britt led her half-dazed husband into the little bed-room. the doctor remained behind in the kitchen. his thoughts, however, were not upon his pipe, which was sending wreaths of blue smoke into the air. he was thinking of far deeper things. his brief career as a medical man had already brought him into close touch with many strange circumstances. he liked to ponder them over very carefully. but this was altogether different, and as he sat there, he endeavoured to imagine the life of the son who had gone from home years before, and had returned in such a sad condition. he was aroused by the captain's hand laid heavily upon his shoulder. "it's him, doc! my god, it's jimmy!" it was all the old man could say. he shook like a leaf, and sitting suddenly down upon a splint-bottom chair, he buried his face in his hands. "are you sure?" the doctor asked, not knowing what else to say. "sure," was the low reply. "strange i didn't know him at first. but it's him all right. and, say, doc, ye'll bring him around, won't ye?" and the captain raised his eyes appealingly to his companion's face. "i shall do all i can, captain, never fear." "may the lord bless ye, doc, fer them words. isn't it lucky that ye're here to-night? jist think what the scouts have done. but fer them my jimmy would be lyin' out there in the storm. and, say, d'ye believe in god?" "y-yes, i suppose so," was the somewhat doubtful response. "but ye'll be sure now, dead certain, won't ye, doc?" "why? i don't catch the drift of your meaning." "ye don't? why, that's queer, after what he's done fer my jimmy. who else sent them scouts out there to bring my boy in but him? and to think that all of these years i've been scoffin' at him and religion, and then fer him to do so much fer me and my jimmy!" the doctor knew not how to reply, and so continued his smoke, while the captain sat nearby with bent head, deep in thought. the storm still raged without, but there was silence in the kitchen, save for the kettle which sang upon the stove. but a more intense silence reigned within the little bed-room adjoining, where a mother knelt by the side of her only child, holding his cold right hand in hers, and offering up wordless prayers that he might be spared. news of jimmy britt's return soon spread throughout the parish, and everywhere there was the buzz of gossip as to the strange way he had come home. some thought he must have been drunk, which caused him to fall upon the road. others believed that he was so poor that he could not afford to be driven from the train. but all were of one mind that his not writing to his parents for years was most mysterious. while all this talking was going on, jimmy was being slowly restored to life through the doctor's skill, and the mother's careful nursing. mrs. britt now found the work of looking after two patients almost beyond her power of endurance. it was then that miss arabella offered her assistance, and proved a veritable angel of mercy in her attention to whyn, and doing what she could about the house. during the weeks which followed the night of the great storm the scouts did not meet at headquarters. they knew that the captain had little or no heart for anything now but the care of his son. they accordingly met from house to house, but most often at the rectory, where mrs. royal always made them welcome. they were all greatly interested in the captain's son, of whom they had heard so much, and they longed to see him. nearly every day rod went to the anchorage to see whyn, and they talked very much about jimmy. the latter, however, he never saw, as no visitor was allowed in his room. to the scouts the winter seemed very long, and delighted were they when spring at last set in. the days lengthened rapidly, the snow disappeared, and the ice was fast weakening in the river. it was a fine afternoon when rod was making his regular visit to whyn that he saw jimmy. he was sitting in a sunny spot right in front of the house. his thick beard had been removed, and his face was very pale after his illness. rod recognised him in an instant, and it was with difficulty that he kept back a cry of astonishment. with fast-beating heart he rushed into whyn's room, much to the girl's surprise, for he was in the habit of entering quietly. "why, rod, what's the matter?" she inquired. "you look half frightened to death." "it's him, whyn!" he exclaimed. "i'm sure of it." "who is it? what do you mean?" the girl asked. "sit down, and be sensible." "he's the very man who was knocked down and robbed in the city, whyn." "what man?" "jimmy. he's out there. his whiskers are all off, and i knew him the instant i got my eyes on him." "does the captain know that?" whyn questioned, after a moment's thought. "isn't it strange that jimmy should have been helped twice by our troop? how delighted captain josh will be." "you tell him, whyn," rod suggested. "he ought to know, but if i say anything it will seem like boasting. it was only our good turn, and we are not supposed to say anything about what we do." whyn had no scruples, however, and that very afternoon she spoke to the captain. she told him all that rod had said, how that he was sure that jimmy was the very man who had been attacked and robbed. the captain said very little, but later he had a long talk with his son, who, up to the present, had been very reticent about the past few years of his life. jimmy was sitting on a log near the shore when the captain spoke to him about the matter. for a few moments the younger man remained very silent, as he whittled a piece of cedar wood with his sharp knife. "what's wrong with ye, lad?" the captain asked. "why can't ye answer a straight question?" "sit down, dad, and don't get excited," was the reply. "there, that's better. there's something i want to tell you, and it's been on my mind for weeks past, so it might as well be now as any other time. when i left home i wrote to you quite often. but when i got away north, and mixed up with a rough crowd, i somehow got out of the way of writing. i was a long way from the post-office, and mails were very irregular, which perhaps had something to do with my neglect. i struck it rich there, dad, and made my pile, which, thank god, is now safe in the bank. when i came 'outside,' it was to have, as i thought, a good time. i did several of the big cities on the pacific coast, and then drifted to new york. i need not tell you of my life there, as it wouldn't do any good. i had the money, and so there was no trouble about seeing the seamy side of life. but one night, i don't know yet how it happened, i drifted into a place to hear a famous singer. she was great, and her voice, oh, dad, i wish you could have heard it. but what got me was the closing piece. it was called, 'my little lad, god bless him.' i can't begin to tell how that song affected me. it seemed like the cry of a broken-hearted mother for her only boy, who was away from her. in an instant i thought of mother and you, and when i left the place that night i was all broken up. i tried to shake the feeling off, but every night it came upon me stronger than ever. "as the weeks went by i became very wretched. i saw what a brute i had been, and how you at home must have suffered. the upshot of it was, that i left new york, landed in st. john, got waylaid, was in the hospital unconscious for a long time, unknown to all. when i got out, i took the evening train, intending to hire a team at greenside to drive me home. i couldn't get any one to bring me at that time of the night, and so i began to foot it. when the storm overtook me i fought hard, but i was very weak, and--oh, well, you know the rest." when jimmy was through, the captain sat for some time without saying a word. he looked straight before him, as if watching the ice, and wondering when it would go out. but he saw nothing there, for his mind was upon more important things. "jimmy," he at last remarked, "this is all his doin's. i kin see that now. he has protected you, and brought ye back to us." "who?" jimmy asked in surprise. "it was that song which did it." "ah, yes, jimmy. but back of that was another, the very one i've been neglectin' fer years. it's wonderful, lad! it's wonderful, and don't ye fergit it." the very next sunday morning, parson dan, and all those at church, were astonished to see the scouts march in, accompanied by their scout-master. it was the first time in years that the captain had been there, and all noted how thoughtful and reverent he was. he had ordered the scouts to attend headquarters that morning, without telling them of his plans. from there he had marched them straight to church, with orders to behave themselves, and do credit to the troop. that day there was no one in all the parish as pleased as parson dan at the great change which had come over the careless and indifferent captain. chapter xxv drift-logs the following week was very stormy. the rain drove up from the south, and the river rose rapidly. the ice, now greatly weakened, slowly stirred before its final rush to the sea. then the moment arrived when it started forward, impelled by the gathering mass up-stream. all day long it surged onward, and far on into the night, carrying along trees, and stones, ripping and grinding, demolishing a wharf here, or up-rooting a tree there. no power of man could stop it. people stood on the shore watching the sight, familiar, and yet always new. the last sign of winter had now departed, and all knew that in a few hours the first steamer of the season would be on her way up-river. with the ice, and following it, came the drift-logs. in a number of cases booms had been broken, and the work of months ruined in an instant. for a hundred miles or more these logs were scattered along the river, drifting with the tide, caught in coves, and mouths of creeks, or stranded upon the shore. to collect as many of these as possible was a big task. yet it was important, for these logs represented much money, and their entire loss would spell ruin to some lumbermen. in less than two days after the ice had gone out, a notice was posted at the store. it told of the offer of ten cents for each drift-log. there were men who made a regular business of this every spring. they bought all the logs which had been collected by the inhabitants along the river, took them to the city, where they were sorted out according to private marks, and sold to their respective owners at an excellent profit. formerly, captain josh had paid no attention to such posted notices. the work of gathering drift-logs he considered beneath the dignity of an old sea-captain. "i'm not a scavenger," he had often told people, when they had asked him why he didn't collect the logs which always floated near his shore, and into the little cove just below his house. "if i can't make a livin' without doin' sich work, then i'll give up." but this spring the captain studied the notice most carefully, and he walked back to the anchorage in a very thoughtful mood. he was thinking of the scouts. he was anxious that they should make more money, and here was a fine opportunity. they had already two hundred dollars in the bank, for the bear and the wreaths had added another fifty to the account. but the captain was not satisfied. he longed to have three hundred dollars there, for with that amount there was hardly a possible chance of the hillcrest troop being beaten in the struggle for the prize. he disliked the idea of now turning scavenger after he had talked so much against the work. but he was not thinking of himself, so that made a vast difference. he found the scouts at headquarters, for school was out, and this was their regular afternoon of meeting. they were awaiting his coming with eagerness, as they, too, had seen the notice in the store. but they knew the captain's views on the matter, and, therefore, had serious doubts about speaking to him in reference to the drift-logs. "hello, boys," was his cheery greeting, as he seated himself upon a block of wood before the door. "how's business?" "not very good," rod replied. "but we have a plan for making more money." "yez have, eh? well, that's interestin'. what is it?" "but we're afraid you won't like it," rod declared. "h'm, is that so? must be pretty bad, then. not goin' to steal chickens, are yez? i can't agree to that." the boys gave a hearty laugh, and the captain smiled grimly. he was quite certain what the plan was which the scouts had in view. "oh, no, we wouldn't steal anything," rod hastened to explain. "we want only honest money. this will be honest, but you don't like the way of earning it." "how d'ye know that, young man? what makes ye wise so mighty sudden?" "you have often said so yourself, sir. haven't you told us that you didn't like collecting drift-logs? you always said it was beneath your dignity, didn't you?" "ho, ho, that's it," the captain roared. "suppose i did say that, what's wrong about it?" "nothing, sir, nothing, only----" "only what?" "that you wouldn't care for us to gather drift-logs, and sell them." "did i ever say anything about you?" the captain demanded. "no, sir. but we thought----" "oh, so yez thought, eh? well, then stop sich thinking and git to work. it's beneath my dignity to be pokin' around after logs, because i'm a sea-captain. but that has nothin' to do with you. it's beneath my dignity to go bare-footed, but it's all right fer you. it's beneath my dignity to go to school, but not fer you, see?" "and you're quite willing to let us collect the logs?" rod enquired. he was all alert now and excited, as were also the rest of the scouts. "sure. go ahead, and i'll keep an eye over yez." "and may we have the tender?" "certainly. yez couldn't do much without that. but be very careful, and don't git a duckin'. i don't want any accidents. yer parents look to me to take care of yez, and i don't want to have any bad news to carry to yer homes." thus it came about that the boys began to gather logs that very afternoon. the captain sat upon the shore watching and giving advice. four of the scouts manned the tender. two rowed, while rod and phil herded the logs together, which were then towed to the little cove and fastened to the shore. the rest of the boys rolled the stranded logs into the water, and then by means of poles floated them also into the cove. it was very exciting work, and the time came all too soon for them to go home. but before they left they counted how many they had, and found that there were one hundred and forty-five safely rounded up. this was most encouraging, and their hearts were filled with joy at the success of their undertaking. the captain had watched the boys with great interest. he was proud of the speedy and skilful manner in which they had performed the work. he knew that if he had assisted there would now be many more logs in the cove. but he could not afford to lose his dignity, oh, no, and he chuckled as he sat there for a few minutes after the scouts had gone home. that evening when supper was over, the captain started out alone in the tender. he told his wife that it might be late before he got home, and for her not to worry. he knew where many logs were lying in coves and creeks unknown to the scouts. hour after hour he patiently toiled, collecting these, and lashing them together with timber-dogs and ropes he had brought with him. it was long after dark when he at last took his raft in tow, and began to row for his own shore. the tide was favourable, so after a pull of over an hour he had the satisfaction of making them fast to a tree in front of the anchorage. next morning the captain was in great spirits, and he chuckled so often over his breakfast that his wife's curiosity was aroused. "what is it, joshua?" she asked. "you seem to be greatly amused over something." "oh, it's only a little surprise fer the scouts," was the reply. "don't say a word, and i'll tell ye." "but what about your dignity, joshua?" mrs. britt laughingly enquired, when she had heard the story. "may i tell whyn? she would be so pleased, poor girl." "sure, betsey. but how is she this mornin'?" "no better, i'm afraid. she is failing fast. she hasn't been able to see the scouts for some time, and you know what that means. she just lies there all day without saying hardly anything. she is so different from what she was when she first came here." "but she still takes an interest in what the scouts are doin', does she not?" "oh, yes, in a way. but she cannot get up her old enthusiasm. the least excitement tires her. she is an angel, if ever there was one. mrs. sinclair is coming this morning, so she wrote. she will be terribly disappointed in whyn." often during the day the captain went to see if the logs he had gathered during the night were safe. then before school was out, he took off all the tacklings, and scattered the logs along the shore, so that they had the appearance of having drifted there in the night. he kept a strict watch over them now lest they should get too far from the shore, and very glad was he when at last the scouts arrived. they were surprised and delighted to find so many logs near at hand, and never for a moment did they suspect what the captain had done. it took them the rest of the afternoon getting the logs into the cove, and when this was accomplished, they stood upon the shore and gazed proudly upon their haul, as the captain termed it. "ye've done well, lads," he remarked, "fer ye must have nigh onto three hundred now. but yez should have a boom around them. if a gale springs up, there'll be trouble." acting upon this suggestion, and directed by the captain, the scouts spent another hour in encircling their logs with a stout boom, which they made secure to the shore. "there, that's better," was the captain's comment, when this had been completed. "yez'd better hurry home now, fer it's gittin' rather late." as the boys were about to leave, a small tug came up the river, and swerved somewhat to the left. a man was standing in the wheel-house, watching those on shore. no word was spoken as the boat sped by, but a thoughtful expression appeared in captain josh's eyes as he stood and studied the tug for several minutes. "i wonder what she's after," he mused, half aloud. "perhaps she's going up-river for logs," rod suggested. "maybe she is, lad. but i was jist wondering whose logs she's after, that's all. i know that craft, so that's what makes me uneasy. if it's your logs she's after it'll be well to keep a sharp lookout to-night. last spring quite a number of logs disappeared, and i know yez don't want to run any risk with yours." the scouts were much excited now, and the idea of keeping watch appealed to their fancy. they all wanted to stay, but the captain told them to go home first and get permission from their parents. "i'll keep a eye out," he told them, "until some of yez come back. ye'd better bring yer blankets along, so that the ones who are not on duty kin sleep. i guess ye'll find the floor of headquarters quite soft before mornin'." by the time the scouts returned it was nine o'clock. they found the captain on guard near the shore. "nothin' doin' yit," was his greeting. "but, then, it's too early. the best thing fer yez to do is to take an hour each on watch. put the youngest on first, and the older ones kin take from midnight. if anything of special interest turns up, let me know. i'll sleep with one ear open." and thus the watch began. it was a novel experience for the scouts, and all were anxious for their turn to arrive. every time the door opened and guard was relieved, all awoke, for they slept lightly, as the floor was not as soft as their own beds at home. phil had taken from twelve to one, and he was followed by rod. it was a beautiful night, with the stars twinkling overhead. not a ripple disturbed the surface of the river. frogs croaked in the distance, and peculiar night sounds fell upon his ears. he sincerely hoped that something would happen during his watch, and as he sat upon a log among the bushes his eyes and ears were keenly alert. never before did an hour appear so tedious to rod. when it seemed that he had been there long enough he pulled out the watch the captain had let the boys have for the night and, striking a match, saw that he had been on guard only half an hour. at times a drowsy feeling came over him, and he was forced to move about to keep from going to sleep at his post. he wondered if the other scouts had felt the same way. he had just seated himself after a short walk, when a sound out on the river arrested his attention. at first he thought that he must be mistaken. but, no, he was sure now that he could hear the noise of a boat cutting through the water. this brought him to his feet, and he strained his eyes in an effort to see what it could be. and as he looked he beheld a dim object in the distance, which was growing more distinct. it was moving when he first saw it. then it slowed down and seemed to be drifting. there was hardly a sound made now, and the watcher on the shore could tell that the boat was drawing closer to where the logs were lying. this looked serious, and he believed that it was there for no good purpose. he waited a few moments, however, to be sure. he did not wish to give a false alarm, and thus bring upon himself the ridicule of the other scouts. the boat was now near enough for him to discern it quite plainly. presently it stopped and a small boat put off, and made straight for the logs. rod hesitated no longer, but turning, sped swiftly along the shore and then up the path leading to the anchorage. reaching the house, he pounded upon the door, which was opened almost immediately by the captain. "they're there!" rod gasped. "after the logs?" the captain enquired. "are you sure?" "yes. come quick, or it will be too late!" stepping to one corner of the kitchen, the captain picked up his rifle, and swiftly followed rod to the shore. there they paused and listened. "ye're right, by gum!" the captain whispered. "the skunks! but i'll stop their fun. into the tender now, and make no noise." with rod seated astern, and the captain at the oars, it took but a few minutes to come close to the tug. a long line had already been made fast to the raft, and the small boat with two men on board was returning from fastening the warp. captain josh ceased rowing and waited. then he caught up his rifle, and held it in readiness. "hold on there!" he roared. "what's the meanin' of all this?" "none of your business," was the gruff and somewhat startled reply. "get out of the way or we'll run ye down!" "is that so?" and the captain drew back the hammer of his rifle. "bluff all ye like, but i've something here which does more'n bluff. stop rowin', i tell ye, or i'll blow yer heads off!" it was remarkable what an effect these words had upon the night-prowlers. they could see, as well, the levelled rifle, and they believed that the man holding it meant business. they stopped rowing, but the boat still glided onward. "back water, and keep away from the tug!" the captain commanded. the men obeyed, and soon the boat was lying but a few yards off. "there, that's better," the captain commented. "now, what have yez to say about yer actions here?" "we're only obeyin' orders," was the surly reply. "we were told to come fer these logs." "who told ye?" "nick taftie. we're workin' fer him." "h'm, i thought so. worked fer him last year at the same job, eh?" "yes." "how many of yez are there?" the captain enquired. "three. pete simons, the engineer, is on board." "well, then, ye jist tell pete to drop anchor, and tumble in there with yez. if yez try any foolin', i'll shoot." "but what are ye going to do?" one of the men demanded. "we can't stay here." "never mind what i'm goin' to do; ye'll find that out in plenty of time. it's not a bad place to stay, after all. yez won't starve, and i shan't shoot so long as yez behave yerselves. hurry up, and give pete his orders!" the engineer had heard every word which had been spoken. at first he was tempted to steam away, and leave his companions to their fate. but he knew that he could not very well steer the tug and handle the engine at the same time. he, therefore, decided to remain. it took him only a few minutes to run out the anchor, and join his companions, as they backed their boat to the stern of the tug. "now pull fer the shore," the captain ordered. "don't try to git away from me. at the first sign i'll shoot." rod rowed the tender, while the captain with his rifle across his knees kept his eyes fixed upon the three men in the other boat. when a short distance from the shore, the captain commanded them to stop, and hand over their oars. this they reluctantly did, and waited to see what would happen next. "got an anchor on board?" the captain asked. "yes, a small one," was the reply. "well, out with it then, and don't pull it up till yez receive orders." chapter xxvi the best "good turn" there was great excitement throughout hillcrest over the capture of the log-stealers. in a short time everybody knew how the scouts had kept watch during the night, and how the three tug-boatmen were forced to remain in their anchored boat, with the captain guarding them while the scouts went for the magistrate and constable. there was a feeling of satisfaction that this had been so successfully accomplished, as it would no doubt put an end to such contemptible business in the future. it was only natural that the trial should arouse unusual interest. it was held in the large public hall, and the building was packed with eager and curious spectators. nick taftie, the unscrupulous business man, was present. he had tried to get away across the border into the united states, but had been caught and forced to attend the trial. everything was against him. the three boatmen told of the many logs they had stolen for him during other years. taftie's lawyer fought hard and long, but all in vain. the evidence was too strong against him, and he was convicted. he was condemned to a term in dorchester penitentiary, and in addition, he had to settle for all the logs he had stolen from people along the river. the three boatmen were let off with a fine and a warning. the city papers made the most of this affair, and the day after the arrest they had long columns telling of what the hillcrest troop had done. they mentioned, also, how these same scouts had captured the robbers on kidd's island, and how the famous singer, anna royanna, had visited the troop and had sung at their entertainment. great credit was given to the scouts for having rounded up the gang of river-thieves. it was explained further that the boys had collected drift-logs for the purpose of earning money to win the lieutenant-governor's prize. all this so impressed three lumber-merchants in the city that they united, and sent a cheque of one hundred and fifty dollars to the hillcrest troop. this caused intense excitement among the scouts when they met at headquarters, and the captain read to them the letter he had received. with whoops, worthy of a band of painted indians on the warpath, the boys charged upon their scoutmaster in order to see the wonderful cheque. then a babel of voices ensued as they discussed how much money they had, and what kind of a motor-boat they should buy. it was their opinion that they must get it at once. but the captain shook his head. "don't be in too big a hurry, lads," was his reminder. "that money must stay in the bank till the governor gives his judgment. he'll want to see the bank-book, and he'll have to receive a full report as to how the money was raised. we must capture that prize, remember." "how much money will we have when the logs are sold?" rod enquired. "let me see," and the captain scratched his head. "we have two hundred in the bank. this cheque will make three hundred and fifty, and them logs should bring us twenty-five more. that's quite a sum, boys, and i think we're pretty lucky. i doubt if any other troop'll have that much." in their excitement the scouts longed to rush into whyn's room, and tell her the great news. but this they could not do, and the thought that she could not share their joy somewhat dampened their enthusiasm. the captain told them that two doctors were to hold a consultation over her that very day. his voice was lower and softer than the scouts had ever heard it as he mentioned this, and they knew that he was deeply grieved over the girl's condition. their interest at winning so much money was now lessened. their hearts were touched at the news about whyn, and they left headquarters in a quieter manner than they had done in many a day. rod was more deeply moved than the rest of the scouts. that whyn could not get better had never before entered his mind. but for two doctors to hold a consultation over her brought a great sinking feeling to his heart. would she never be able to see the scouts again? he asked himself, as he walked slowly homeward. he had no appetite for his supper, and went to bed earlier than usual. but he found it hard to get to sleep. whyn was ever before him, and he thought of her lying there in her little room. why should she die? he reasoned. the scouts wanted her, and so did her mother. he tossed for a long time upon his pillow, and when he did at last fall into a fitful slumber, he dreamed of whyn, and the money the scouts had earned. they seemed to be mixed up in some funny way. he saw the girl holding out her hands to the scouts while they were counting over a large roll of crisp bills. he could not get clear of this dream when he awoke in the morning, and he thought much of it during breakfast. both mr. and mrs. royal had noticed something unusual about rod's manner. at first they thought that he was not well, and they watched him carefully as they now sat at the table. they were naturally proud of the part he had taken in the capturing of the river-thieves, as well as the way he was developing into such a strong manly boy. "i saw doctor travis last night," the clergyman at length began. "he and doctor sturgis from the city held a consultation over whyn yesterday afternoon. i am afraid that her case is very serious." "i expected as much," mrs. royal replied, with a deep sigh. "the poor girl has been failing rapidly of late, so i understand." rod laid down the knife with which he was spreading his bread, and fixed his eyes full upon the clergyman's face. his heart beat fast, and he was very pale. "she has one chance, however, so the doctor said," the parson continued, "but i fear that is almost out of the question." "and what is that?" mrs. royal enquired, as her husband paused, and began to toy thoughtfully with his napkin-ring. "to send her to some great specialist in new york. an operation of a most serious nature is necessary, but it will take so much money that it seems almost ridiculous even to think of such a thing. it is about all that mrs. sinclair can do to make a living as it is." "but surely there is some one who would be willing to advance the money," mrs. royal replied. "is it right that the girl should die without an effort being made to save her life?" "it would take a large sum, martha, and i am afraid that there is no one sufficiently interested in the girl who is able to do much. the specialist's fees alone would be great, to say nothing of other expenses. i know where some of the money could be obtained, but i should be most loath to use it." as rod sat and listened, with flushed face and sparkling eyes, the dream of the past night once more came into his mind. he saw whyn holding out her hands to the scouts while they were busy counting over their money. then an idea came to him which caused him to give vent to a slight expression of delight. "what is it, dear?" mrs. royal enquired. "you seem to be amused over something." "i was only thinking, grandma, and could not help it." he wished to unburden his mind, but thought it best to wait until he had seen either captain josh or the rest of the scouts. rod could hardly wait now until breakfast was over, so anxious was he to rush over before school to speak to the captain about his new plan. he finished the few chores he was in the habit of doing, and then sped across the field as fast as his legs would carry him. the captain was in his shop near the house, but he was not working as rod opened the door and entered. he was sitting on a bench, with his face buried in his hands. he looked quickly up as the boy walked in, as if ashamed to fee caught in such a manner. "what's up now?" was his gruff greeting. "ye needn't startle one out of his senses. why can't ye knock in a proper manner?" "oh, captain," rod panted, paying no attention to the rebuke, "i want to talk to you about something." "go ahead, then. it must be mighty important to bring ye here this mornin' in sich a hurry." "it is, captain, and it's about whyn." "about whyn, eh? what d'ye want to tell me about her?" "that she can't get better, unless she goes to a specialist. doctor travis told grandad all about it last night." for an instant the old man looked keenly into the clear eyes of the boy standing before him, and a deep love for this manly chap entered his heart. "sit down," he ordered, and his voice was husky. "so ye're interested in whyn, eh?" "oh, yes. i don't want her to die." "neither do i, lad. neither do i. but what are we goin' to do? tell me that." "help her, captain. the scouts can do it. we've got money, and why shouldn't we give it for whyn's sake?" "what, take the money we've earned?" "yes. we've nearly four hundred dollars." "but what about the prize, rod?" "oh, we can get along without that, but we can't do without whyn." "ye're right there, lad," and a mistiness came into the captain's eyes. "but it'll take a lot of money to send her to that specialist. four hundred dollars won't go very far." "but it will help," rod urged. "it will be our good turn, anyway. and say, captain, wouldn't you do a great deal for whyn?" "sure, lad, indeed i would. do almost anything, in fact." "well, then, suppose you sell the _roaring bess_." "sell my boat!" this was almost too much for the captain. "yes, why not? you can get another, can't you?" "i suppose so," was the slow response. "and if that isn't enough, you can sell your place. you would do it for whyn's sake, wouldn't you?" this was more than the captain had expected. he crushed back a naughty exclamation, and rose slowly to his feet. "look here, rod, what d'ye think i am? a saint? git away to school now, or ye'll be late. i'll think over what ye've said, and discuss it with the troop this afternoon. ye'll see the boys at school, so tell them to meet here as soon as they git out. ye'd better not tell them anything about yer plan until i've had time to think it over fer awhile." rod found it very hard to keep his mind down to his lessons that day. he was too much excited over the idea of helping whyn. he wanted to speak to the other scouts about it, and thus relieve his feelings. but he had received the captain's order, and so must obey. the rest of the scouts were most anxious to know what the special summons meant, so it did not take them long to reach headquarters as soon as school was out. their scoutmaster was there before them, who explained in a few words why he had called them together. "i want yez to decide this matter fer yerselves," he told them in closing, "and i'll tell yez what i think about it when yez have made up yer minds." "certainly we must give the money," rod cried, as soon as the captain was through. "it's for whyn, and who wouldn't do anything for her? he has no right to belong to this troop if he wouldn't." "let's give it," the rest shouted in unison; "every cent of it." "but what about the prize?" the captain asked. "let it go," was the general response. "and the motor-boat?" "we can do without that, eh, boys?" this from rod. "yes, yes. hurrah for whyn!" and the scouts in their loyal enthusiasm threw their caps into the air, and shouted at the top of their voices. into the captain's eyes gleamed a light of joy and triumph. he felt at that moment like a general whose men had consented to make a mighty sacrifice for a great cause. he tried to say something, but the words would not come. instead, he stepped up to each scout, and reached out his big right hand. this action on the part of their leader had more effect in filling their hearts with pride than an outburst of eloquence. they understood something of what the captain felt, and how pleased he was at their decision. "but remember, lads," he reminded them, "our money'll go only a little way, and we mustn't git too excited jist yit." "how much will it take?" one of the boys asked. "i can't say fer sure. but i wouldn't be a bit surprised if it should take two thousand dollars." "oh!" was the astonished exclamation from all. "why will it take that much?" they enquired. "specialists are expensive people," the captain explained. "i knew a man years ago who went to one, and it cost him more'n that." "but maybe he won't charge as much for a girl, especially when it's whyn?" rod suggested. "h'm, i guess that won't make any difference. anyway, we must be prepared, as our motto says. we've got to git more money, that's certain, and how are we to do it?" there was silence for a few minutes, as the scouts well knew from past experience how hard it was to think of any plan to raise money quickly. they realised that they could not expect to have such good fortune as they had during the past year. it was rod who broke the silence. "i know what we can do," he began. "we can go through the parish, and ask every person to give something. that's what the ladies' aid did when they wanted to build that shed for the horses near the church." "but how would whyn like that?" the captain asked. "wouldn't, it seem too, much like beggin'?" "it would be better, though, than letting her die," rod insisted. "sure, sure," the captain agreed. "but i don't like the idea, fer all that. let's go home now and think of some other plan. if it comes to the worst, we might have to beg, but not if we kin help it." chapter xxvii jimmy it took jimmy britt many weeks to regain his strength after his serious illness. for a long time he manifested very little interest in what was going on around him. his father and mother wore greatly disappointed and discouraged. he only spoke when spoken to, and spent hours wandering alone along the shore or out in the woods. the scouts annoyed him, and they kept as far from him as possible and he from them. the only conversation he had with his father concerning his past life was the day he spoke about anna royanna, and the influence her song had upon him. the captain and mrs. britt were afraid that the blow he had received upon his head had somewhat affected his brain, and this caused them considerable worry. the neighbours had already whispered this among themselves, for they had been quick to notice the change which had come over the returned son. "look here, jimmy," his father said that evening after the scouts had left, "i want ye to write a letter fer me. my old hand is so cramped that i kin hardly hold a pen. ye used to be good at sich work." "all right," jimmy replied, rising slowly and bringing down the writing materials from an upper shelf. "now, fire away; i'm ready." but the captain hesitated, and was at a loss how to begin. he scratched his head in perplexity. "dang it all!" he muttered. "oh, jist tell him that we have a little sick girl here, who will die if she doesn't git to a specialist in new york, and that i'd like fer him to help out with the expense." "what are you talking about, dad?" jimmy asked. "i can't write the letter until you give me the name of the person you want it sent to." "oh, didn't i tell ye? well, that's queer. it's fer my old master, benjamin dodge, in the city. he's got the money, and he told me that if i ever needed any help to go to him. i have never bothered him before, and never intended to do so, but this is different. whyn's life's at stake, and that's reason enough. the scouts are to give all the money they earned fer that prize, but it won't go very far. we need a great deal more, and at once." "and did the scouts give that money of their own free will?" jimmy asked. "did you suggest it to them?" "no. i never thought about it until rod came over this mornin' and put the notion into my head." for some time jimmy sat toying with the pen he was holding in his hand. "why don't ye write that letter?" his father demanded. "so you say that the girl can't get better unless she goes to a specialist?" his son enquired. "it's what the doctors say; that's all i know about it. but git on with that letter, will ye?" "look here, dad," and jimmy laid aside the pen. "i'm going to the city in the morning, and suppose i see old dodge about the matter. it will be much better than writing a letter. i can explain things which i couldn't write." "maybe that would be the best way," the captain agreed. "but put it up to him straight, jimmy. he's a gruff cur at times, but he's got a big heart." "i'll attend to that, dad. just leave it to me." the captain was very restless the next day. he thought that the time for the arrival of the evening boat would never come. jimmy was to return on her, and suppose dodge was unwilling to assist! what would he do? his eyes often turned toward the _roaring bess_ riding at anchor before the house. several times he stood in front of the door and looked out over his few acres of land. what his thoughts were he kept to himself, but the expression, of determination in his eyes told of a man who would not easily be balked in the object upon which he had set his heart and mind. captain josh met jimmy at the wharf, and the two walked down the road together. "well, did ye see dodge?" the captain eagerly enquired. "no," was the brief reply. "no?" the old man repeated, while his heart sank low. "i didn't see him, and i didn't intend to." "but what about whyn, jimmy? didn't ye promise me that----" "oh, that's all right," and the son gave a short laugh. "i have the money, and isn't that enough?" "ye've got the money, ye say?" the captain asked in astonishment, stopping abruptly, and looking keenly into the young man's face. "where did ye git it?" "don't worry about that, dad. it's honest money, and i'm glad it's to be spent for a good purpose. but for that little song i heard in new york, it would have been all blown in by this time." "jimmy, d'ye tell me that it's yer own money?" the captain demanded. "or are ye only foolin' me?" "it was mine, dad, but now it's yours, so here it is," and the son brought forth a big roll of bills from his pocket, and handed it to his father. "sit down, dad, and see how much is there." seating himself upon a stone, the captain spread out the bills upon his knee, by fifties and hundreds. "a thousand dollars!" he gasped, when he had finished. his hands trembled, and his body shook from the vehemence of his emotion. "jimmy----" it was all he could say. "there, there, dad, that will do," and the son laid his right hand affectionately upon his father's shoulder. "when you want any more, let me know. but don't give that girl a hint where that money came from. tell her a friend gave it, see? come, now, let's get home. mother will be waiting tea for us." the captain said very little during supper, and when the meal was over, he sat smoking for some time in deep thought. then he laid aside his pipe, and went to whyn's room. he knocked gently upon the door before entering. the girl gave him a wan smile of greeting, and reached out her thin hand. the captain held it for awhile, and whyn was content to let it remain there. "how are ye feelin', little one?" he asked. "tired," was the reply. "but mamma is coming to-morrow, and i must be better when she is here." "sure, sure. but we're goin' to have ye better all the time soon, so keep up courage." "i'm afraid not," and whyn gazed sadly and thoughtfully toward the window where the westering sun was casting its beams. "i shall never be better, captain." "tut, tut. don't say sich a thing." "but i know it, so what's the use of pretending? didn't the doctors say that i can't get better unless i go to a specialist?" "well, why can't ye go?" the captain queried. "what's to hinder ye?" "it's the want of money," was the slow reply. "it would cost so much, and we are poor. i know that douglas would help if he could, but he can't do much now." "but suppose ye had the money, and could go, would it make ye happy?" "don't tease me, captain," and the girl gave the hard hand which was holding hers an affectionate little squeeze. "i'm not, whyn, really i'm not. the scouts are goin' to send ye." "captain josh!" "there now, never mind any of yer exclaimin'. i knew it would surprise ye. yes, the scouts have decided to send ye to a specialist. everything is all arranged." "but i can't allow it, captain," whyn protested. "do they mean to take their money and use it upon me?" "yes, that's jist what they're goin' to do." "but what about the prize, and the motorboat?" "don't ye worry about sich things. that matter is all settled. the boys love ye so much that they're willin' to do anything." whyn lay very still for awhile, her eyes moist with tears. the captain, sitting by her side, watched her in silence. "it is too much for them to do," the girl at last murmured. "oh, not at all," the captain replied. "they are only lendin' ye the money, and ye kin pay them back when ye git well and write that book of yours." "how lovely that will be!" and whyn clasped her hands before her in delight, something like her old manner. "it will take some time, though. but i shall do it, and the first money i get shall go to the scouts." suddenly an expression of anxiety came into her eyes as she fixed them full upon the captain's face. "what is it, little one?" he asked. "but the scouts won't have enough money, will they?" she enquired. "hardly enough, whyn. but a kind friend has given some to help out. he doesn't want ye to know his name, and will it worry ye much if i don't tell ye?" "no, not at all. you have been so good to me that i have no right to ask. oh, i am so happy, and won't mamma be delighted when she hears the news." the day after mrs. sinclair's arrival, preparations were made for the removal of the invalid girl. all knew that the trip would be a serious undertaking, but they said nothing about this to whyn. her mother was going with her, and captain josh and mrs. britt were to go as far as st. john. but before leaving, whyn had one special request to make. she wanted to see the scouts, to thank them and to bid them good-bye. they came the evening before she left, and filed silently into her room. it had been months since they had seen her, and all were shocked to see how she had failed. whyn greeted them with a bright smile, and held out her hand to each one in turn. "i can't talk much, boys," she began, "for i am very tired now. but i want to thank you all for what you have done for me. be sure and keep the troop together. i want each one of you to write to me, and tell me all the news." how the scouts got out of her room they could hardly remember, but at last they found themselves standing before the house looking out over the river. all wanted to say or do something to hide their real feelings. it was rod who rose to the occasion. "come, boys," and his voice was low as he spoke, "let's have a swim. the water's fine." chapter xxviii excitement at the anchorage a deep gloom settled suddenly over the scouts after whyn left. the enthusiasm and excitement of the last few days had departed, leaving them much depressed. they had little to work for now, as all hope of winning the prize was gone. their logs had been sold, and the money placed in the bank where it would remain until needed for the sick girl. the boys never for a moment regretted the step they had fallen. there was something lacking, however, and they found it difficult to take up their regular scout work where they had left it off. they met at headquarters as usual, and spent much time with the captain out on the water, but whenever they came ashore and looked up at the window where whyn had so often greeted them, their hearts became heavy. they wrote long letters to her and upon the arrival of the mail each day they expected letters from her. but none came. only to the captain did mrs. sinclair write, telling him of their safe arrival in new york. mrs. britt received a letter about the same time, which caused her to set to work house-cleaning in a most energetic manner. every room was turned upside down, swept, and dusted, while the captain beat carpets and mats until his back and arms ached. miss arabella was taken into the secret, and she came to the anchorage every day to give a helping hand. it was whyn's room which received special attention. a carpet was ordered from the city to take the place of the old hooked-mat, and new curtains were put up to the window. "my, that looks fine," miss arabella exclaimed, when the last finishing touches had been given to the room. "it will certainly be a surprise." the captain chuckled when he was brought in to give his opinion. in fact, he had been chuckling ever since mrs. britt had received the letter which started her upon the special cleaning of her already neat house. the scouts felt that something out of the ordinary was pleasing the captain by his jolly manner. they often discussed it among themselves, but the more they talked, the more puzzled they became. they all knew about the house-cleaning, the new carpet, and curtains for whyn's room, and that miss arabella was at the anchorage most of the time. "i guess i know what it's all about," tommy bunker confided one afternoon, when the scouts were discussing the matter. "what do you know?" rod asked. "jimmy's going to get married." "married!" was the surprised shout from all. "yes. he's going to marry miss arabella. pa said last night that she's been looking for a man ever since he knew her, and if it wasn't to be her wedding, he was mighty sure she wouldn't be so mighty chummy with the captain and his wife." "but they wouldn't live at the anchorage," phil replied. "miss arabella's got a home of her own, hasn't she?" "pa says that jimmy and tom simpkins don't agree, and so they couldn't live in the same house," tommy explained. the scouts no longer scoffed at this idea. it did seem to them that something like a wedding was about to take place. the captain was so mysterious and full of fun, while miss arabella beamed upon the boys whenever she met them. it must surely be her wedding, they agreed. at the close of the second week of all this excitement, the scouts received orders from the captain to meet him at the wharf in full uniform upon the arrival of the evening boat. they were all there half an hour ahead of time, wondering what was going to happen. maybe jimmy and miss arabella had gone to the city that day, had been married, and were coming up on the steamer. what else could it be? when at last the steamer did arrive, and the gang-planks had been run out, the scouts strained their eyes in an effort to find out who were coming ashore. several landed, and then to their astonishment, who should step out but anna royanna! when rod first saw her he could hardly believe his eyes. instantly the meaning of all the excitement of the past few days flashed upon his mind. it was for her that the britts had been getting ready. he seemed almost dazed as he stood there watching the wonderful woman coming forward. he joined the others in the cheer of welcome which the captain ordered to be given; he felt her hand grasping his, and saw the smile of pleasure upon her face. but it all appeared like a marvellous dream, too good to be true. he walked by her side with the rest of the scouts, and listened to her conversation with the captain. but he said nothing, unless directly spoken to. he was too happy for speech, and he preferred to remain silent that he might think over the joy which had so suddenly come into his life. the singer held his hand that evening as he was about to leave the anchorage. he promised that he would come to see her every day, and then sped home to impart the great news to parson dan and mrs. royal. there was considerable excitement throughout hillcrest when it was learned that the famous anna royanna had come to the anchorage to stay for several weeks. it caused the greatest stir among the people from the city, especially the ones of the fashionable set. they could not understand why such a woman should wish to take up her abode at the anchorage, of all places. to them, the britts were very inferior people. they knew the captain by sight and reputation, but his wife they had never met. after a week's hesitation and consideration, several women called upon miss royanna one fine afternoon. but she was not in. she spent most of her time with the scouts, so mrs. britt informed them. she lived out of doors during the day, and in the evening was generally at the rectory. the royals were charmed with the singer. she was so quiet and gentle, and made herself perfectly at home. how her presence brightened up the house. at times she played on the little piano, and sang several of her sweetest songs. one evening when she was about to return to the anchorage, a furious thunder-storm burst upon the land, accompanied by a torrent of rain. it continued so long that the royals were able to induce their visitor to remain all night. "i am afraid that i shall give you too much trouble," miss royanna told them. "oh, no," mrs. royal hastened to assure her. "it will be a great pleasure to have you. there is one room which is always ready, and," here her voice became low, "no one has slept in it for over thirteen years. it was my son's room," she explained, seeing the look of surprise in her guest's eyes. as mrs. royal uttered these words, she turned and lighted a lamp, and, therefore, did not notice the strange expression which overspread miss royanna's face. together the two went upstairs and entered the sacred chamber. "it was alec's room," mrs. royal remarked, as she placed the lamp upon the dressing-table. "he was fond of all those things," and she motioned to the walls lined with books, fishing-rods, rifle, banners, snow-shoes, and pictures. "i have aired the bed, and made it up every week since he went away. i know it will seem childish and foolish to you. but, oh----" she suddenly paused and sat down upon a chair by the side of the bed. "you little realise how much he meant to us. he was our only child, and his memory is very dear." "i know it," miss royanna replied, dropping upon her knees, and throwing her arms around mrs. royal's neck. "i think i understand how much you have suffered during all of these years. but is it right for a stranger to occupy this room? could i not sleep on the sofa downstairs? i would be quite comfortable there." "no, no. you must stay here. i could never before bear the thought of any one sleeping in this room. but with you it is so different. you seem to me like my own daughter, and that you have a right here which no one else ever had. i cannot understand the feeling." "may i be your daughter, then?" the younger woman eagerly asked, as she caught mrs. royal's hands in her own hot ones. "it will make my heart so happy to be able to call you mother, and to feel that this is my home." in reply, mrs. royal kissed the fair face so close to hers, and gave a loving pressure to the firm white hands. for some time they remained in this position, unheeding the storm which was still raging outside. tears were in their eyes, but a new-found joy had entered their hearts, which made that chamber of sacred memories a more hallowed spot than ever. when at last alone, and with the door closed, the singer stood as if spellbound. could it be possible, she asked herself, that this was his room, just as he had left it years before? the memory of the past rose suddenly and vividly to her mind. she saw again his straight manly figure, with the light of love in his eyes, as he kissed her and bade her good-bye on the morning of that fateful day years ago. she recalled his words of cheer and comfort as he told her how he would win in the battle of life, and make a home for her and their little one. then came the terrible news, followed by the fearful days and weeks of struggle in her effort to earn a living as she carried her boy from place to place. the memory was more than she could endure. sinking upon a chair, she buried her face in her hands and wept as she had not wept in years. outside the storm rolled away, and the moon rose big and bright. the house was very still, but within her room anna royanna sat alone through the long watches of the night. how could she sleep in such a place, with so many conflicting emotions agitating her heart and mind? mr. and mrs. royal both noticed that their guest was very pale when she came down to breakfast. "i am afraid you did not sleep well last night, dear," mrs. royal remarked, as she gave her an affectionate kiss. "it must have been the storm which disturbed you." "i did not mind it," was the reply. "i have restless nights sometimes, and last night was one of them. but i shall be all right presently." parson dan said nothing to any one about the idea which had come to him concerning the noted singer. but the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that his suspicion was well grounded. he watched her very carefully, and noted her special interest in rod. another thing which confirmed his belief was the stopping of all letters from rod's mother as soon as miss royanna arrived at hillcrest. in her last one she had stated that she expected to be away for a number of weeks, and would be unable to write until her return. the parson's mind was greatly puzzled over the whole matter. if the famous singer was really the boy's mother, why did she not say so? was there something which she wished to keep hidden? he also watched the two when they were together, and as he studied their faces, he was sure that he could see a remarkable resemblance. no one else noticed it, so he believed, and not likely he would have done so but for the idea which had come to him that day he was driving along the road. several times he was tempted to discuss the whole affair with his wife in order to find out if she had suspected anything. he always delayed, however, hoping that something of a more definite nature would turn up to set his doubts at rest. chapter xxix the troops decide a few days after the big thunder-storm, captain josh received an official letter from the provincial secretary of the boy scouts. it was so important that he at once called his own scouts to headquarters that he might place the whole matter before them. the boys were naturally curious to know why they had been so hurriedly summoned, and they accordingly lost no time in getting together. the captain, seated at a little table, with the open letter before him, seemed much puzzled, and all waited anxiously for him to speak. "boys," he began, looking keenly into their faces, "i've got a strange letter here from the provincial secretary. he tells me that in two weeks' time the lieutenant-governor wants to meet all the troops in the province, review them, and give the prize which was offered last year. now, we all know about that, and so are not surprised. but the governor wants to come to hillcrest to hold the review, and so the secretary asks me to make arrangements, that is, if i agree to the plan. they will all come from the city on the mornin' boat, bring their lunches with them, and, hold the review near the wharf. now, what d'yez think about that?" this was certainly astonishing news to the scouts. several weeks ago they would have given shouts of delight at the suggestion. but it was different then. at that time they were almost sure of winning the prize, and had often thought of the day when it would be presented to them amid the cheers of the other scouts. but now such a thing was impossible. every cent of their savings had already been withdrawn from the bank to help whyn, and they had nothing to show at the review for all their efforts. they were, therefore, silent when the captain finished speaking. the latter noted this, and surmised the reason. "i know jist what ye're thinkin' about, lads," he continued. "we'll go to that meetin' empty-handed, so to speak. but that needn't matter. we know that we've done right, and i think we should fall in line with the governor's idea, and try to give the visitin' troops a good time." "so do i," rod replied. "though we can't get the prize, it will be nice to meet the other scouts, see how they march, and what they look like. i think it will be great to have them come to hillcrest." "i wonder what made them think of coming here," phil remarked. "they never did it before." "it is to give the scouts an outin', so the letter says," the captain replied. "it is the governor's treat, and he thought it would be so nice to visit a place on the river where there is a troop. the secretary wants to know why we have sent no account of what we have done during the past year in connection with the prize-contest. he says that all the other troops have done so, and he is surprised that we have done nothin'." "i guess there won't be anything to report now," rod replied. "don't say anything about what we have done, captain, when you write." "i don't intend to," and the old man glared upon the boys as if he had been charged with some serious offence. "de' yez think that i'm goin' to blab all about our good-turn? not a bit of it. let's git down to business now, and arrange about that review." the following days passed very quickly. there were many things the scouts had to do for the great event. the large field below the wharf was obtained, and here boards were brought for the grand-stand, which the captain was bound to have erected for the noted men who were coming. stately elm, beech, and birch trees stood at the back and along the edge of the field, which would afford excellent shade should the day be hot. flags, too, were gathered, and these were to be hung upon the grand-stand, while one big union jack was to surmount a pole from the top of the tallest tree. there was other work for the boys as well. they were not yet second-class scouts, and the captain was most anxious that all should pass the examination before the review took place. he accordingly kept the troop busy, and doctor travis was most helpful in his lectures and in examining the boys. it was the day before the meeting when the captain proudly presented each scout with his second-class badge. "there, i'm thankful that's over," and he gave a deep sigh of relief. "yez kin hold up yer heads now among the rest. i wish it was the first-class badge, though. yez should have it by this time, and i guess ye would if we hadn't spent so much time in earnin' money." the morning of the review was clear and warm, and the scouts in full uniform were early on the grounds. the flags were all arranged, and everything was in readiness for the meeting. word had passed throughout the parish that the lieutenant-governor was to be present, and all during the morning people kept coming, some by motor-boats, and others by teams. they brought their dinners with them, intending to make a holiday of it. even tom dunker was there with his family. he had no use for captain josh or the scouts, but he did want to see the lieutenant-governor, and hear what he had to say. when the _river queen_ at last appeared in sight, the wharf was black with people. as the steamer drew near and gave forth two raucous blasts, a band on board began to play the national anthem. when this was ended, the scouts, crowding the bow, gave three cheers and a "tiger." flags were flying fore and aft, and as the river was like a mirror, the _river queen_ presented a perfect picture of majestic gracefulness as if proud of the load she was carrying. captain josh with his scouts kept guard at the outer edge of the wharf, and stood at attention as the various troops filed ashore. when at last the lieutenant-governor and several noted men came out, the boys gave the full salute, and then preceded them to the main highway where the other scouts were already lined up. then down the road they all marched, the band going before, playing a lively air, the governor, and others in carriages, followed by a long line of scouts, with the hillcrest troop leading. it was a proud moment for captain josh, as he marched ahead of the procession. drawn to his full height, and with his long beard sweeping his breast, he might have been taken for a great warrior of olden days leading his men into action. after the troops had reached the grounds they disbanded, and then various games were begun. baseball came first between two crack teams. those not interested in this made for the shore, where, protected by thick trees, they were able to enjoy a good swim. when the baseball match was over it was time for dinner. soon the smoke of numerous fires rose above the trees near the shore where the scouts boiled water, cooked eggs and meat like old veterans. it was a scene of gay festivity, mingled with much laughter and fun. all kinds of mistakes were made, due to ignorance of cooking or the excitement of the moment. one patrol put their tea into their can with the cold water, and boiled all together. some boys mixed their coffee with salt instead of sugar. but all mistakes and the bantering which followed, were taken in good part, for no one felt like getting angry, no matter what happened. the hillcrest troop took no part in the games. they were content to stand by and watch. they knew nothing about baseball such as is played in the city, and were accordingly greatly interested, noting everything, and determined that they, too, would learn to play in the proper manner. but when it came to making a fire and preparing dinner, they easily led all the rest. here they felt more at home, and were able to give considerable assistance to the less fortunate. during the morning the lieutenant-governor, and the three who accompanied him, enjoyed themselves in their own way. they viewed the baseball game with much interest in the cool shade of a large tree, and then strolled to the shore to watch the scouts as they prepared their dinners. as they were seated upon a log, thinking it about time to go back to the steamer lying at the wharf where they were to have dinner, captain josh approached, and lifted his hat. he had disappeared shortly after the steamer's arrival, and no one knew what had become of him. the governor at once rose to his feet, and held out his hand. "you are captain britt, i believe," he began. "i have heard of you, and am very glad to meet you. we have been enquiring for you." "had other business on hand, sir," the captain replied, giving the governor's hand a vigorous shake. "but i'm mighty glad to meet you." "allow me to introduce my friends," and the governor turned to his three companions, "senator knobbs, judge sterling, and our provincial secretary, mr. laird." "glad to meet yez all," the captain exclaimed, as he gave the hand of each a hearty grip. "it isn't every day our parish is so honoured. now, what about dinner? yez must be hungry by this time." "we are about to go back to the steamer," the secretary replied. "they have made ready for us there." "dinner on the steamer!" the captain cried in surprise. "whoever heard of sich a thing at an outin' like this. now, look here, i want yez to be my guests to-day, at a real out-of-doors meal. yez kin eat on a steamer at any time. will yez come? everything is ready." "but what about the dinner on the boat?" the governor enquired. "oh, i'll send one of the scouts to tell them that ye're invited elsewhere. will that do?" "i shall be delighted to go with you, and i know that my friends will, too. it is very kind of you to ask us." calling to rod, who was not far off, the captain sent him at once to the steamer. then bidding the men to follow him, he left the shore, crossed the field, and entered the forest at the back of the grand-stand. here a trail led off to the left, and after a few minutes' walk they came to a little brook gurgling down through the forest. tall trees formed an arch over the water, birds twittered and sang, while a squirrel high up on a branch scolded noisily at the intruders. a few rods along the brook brought into view a grassy spot under the shade of a large maple tree. as the three strangers looked, their eyes opened wide with surprise, for there before them was a tempting repast spread upon a fair white linen cloth. "sit down, gentlemen," the captain ordered, "while i make tea." "this is great!" the governor exclaimed, as he seated himself upon the ground, and leaned back against the bole of the tree. "it certainly is," the judge assented. "it reminds me of my boyhood days. this is good of you," and he turned to the captain, "to take all this trouble for us." "it's only a pleasure, i assure yez," the captain returned. "much nicer than the steamer, eh? fall to, now. ye'll find them trout rather good. caught them myself in the brook. betsey'll be right pleased if ye'll try her biscuit and pie. she was afraid they wouldn't be good. have some tea, sir?" and he held the tea-pot over the governor's cup. "not too strong, eh? that's good. ye'll find cream and sugar right there. help yerselves, now, and don't be backward." "well, that's the best meal i've had in a long time," the senator remarked, as he finished, and drew forth his cigar case and passed it around. "you didn't do all this yourself, did you, captain?" "should say not," was the reply. "betsey, that's my woman, did the cookin', but miss royanna helped me fix things up here. it was her idea, not mine." "miss royanna, did you say?" the governor queried. "it seems to me i've heard that name before." "sure ye have. she's the great singer. anna royanna, she's generally called. she's livin' with us fer awhile. greatest woman out." "strange," the governor mused. then he shot a swift glance toward the secretary, but that young man was staring hard at the captain. "there is certainly some tone to all this," and the judge gave a hearty laugh. "we little expected to have our dinner served by such a noted person, and to be waited upon by a worthy sea-captain, did we, sir?" and he turned toward the governor. but the latter had risen to his feet, as if suddenly aroused by some pressing engagement. "come," he ordered, "let's get back. it's time for the review to begin. the scouts will be getting impatient." it took them but a few minutes to return to the grand-stand where parson dan was waiting to receive them. he and the governor were old friends, and hearty was the greeting between the two. then the call was sounded, summoning the scouts. soon they were lined up according to troops before the stand, where the officials were already seated, with the clergyman by their side. they invited captain josh to a seat on the platform, but he refused, saying that he preferred to remain with his boys. after the band had played a couple of inspiring national airs, the speeches began. they were not long, but full of interest, dealing with the scout movement. the senator spoke first, and was followed by the judge. parson dan was asked to say a few words, but he declined, saying that the boys wanted to hear the governor, and not a prosy old parson. when the governor at last arose, he was greeted with great cheers. all the people had crowded as close as possible, so as not to miss a word of the address of the prominent man who had come into their midst. near the platform stood anna royanna. the speeches mattered very little to her, for it was rod's face she was watching. she noted the eager interested look in his eyes, and his erect bearing as he stood at attention at the head of his patrol. how few the hillcrest scouts were compared with the others, and a slight smile lightened the woman's face as she thought of the surprise which perhaps was in store for them. the governor at first complimented the scouts upon their neat smart appearance, and what an excellent thing the movement was. he then referred to the prize which had been offered a year before, and that the time had at last arrived when it was to be awarded. at these words the assembled troops stood straighter than ever, eager and intense to hear the name of the successful troop. "i have the list before me," the governor continued, as he arranged his eye-glasses, "and i consider it a very creditable one indeed, showing most plainly how active the scouts have been. the committee has gone most carefully over the reports received, and has examined the bank-books accompanying them. i wish that i had time to read to you the many and ingenious ways in which the different troops have raised their money, and i sincerely wish that all could win the prize. according to this list there is one troop which leads all the others, having earned the sum of two hundred and fifty dollars. the account of how this was raised is splendid, and by the rules laid down, that troop has won the prize." here the governor paused, and a breathless stillness reigned as all waited to hear the name of the fortunate troop. "i understand, however," the speaker slowly continued, "that there is only one troop present which did not send in a report of its doings during the last year. this, perhaps, seems strange to you, and i have good reason to ask the scout-master of that troop to step forward and give some explanation. i would really do so if i did not have the full information myself, and before presenting the prize, i am going to tell you something about that troop." then in a few words he told what the delinquent troop had done; how they had raised almost four hundred dollars, and how they had done it. he next told about the sick girl, and that the scouts of this troop had freely given every cent of the money they had earned to send her to a specialist in new york. there was a strong note of pathos in the governor's voice as he mentioned the sick girl and the act of loving sacrifice on the part of the troop. he was a master of speech, and his words thrilled the hearts of his listeners. "you now know," he said in conclusion, "why that troop has made no report. the prize was within their grasp. they had to decide between it and the life of a sick girl. they chose the nobler course, and so they are not the winners to-day. i wanted you to know this before we go any further. i shall now proceed to present the flag, and i ask troop number seven to step forward." at once thirty scouts advanced, gave the full salute, and stood at attention. when the governor stepped to the front of the platform and held forth the written order for the bugle band, the scoutmaster refused to take it. "we cannot accept it, sir," he simply said. "it doesn't belong to us, but to that troop which did so much for the sick girl." the governor was about to reply, when he was checked by an outburst of wild enthusiastic cheers. the scouts could restrain themselves no longer. with the greatest difficulty they had remained silent as the governor told about what had been done for an invalid girl. but now this generous act on the part of troop seven following immediately after, was more than they could stand. they cheered at the top of their voices, and threw their hats high into the air. it was some time before order could be restored, for all were talking at once, notwithstanding the frantic efforts of the scoutmasters to restrain them. "do you really wish to give up all claim to the prize?" the governor asked troop seven, as soon as he could get a hearing. "we do," came as one from the thirty boys. "we cannot accept it." "is that the wish of the other troops?" the governor asked. the only answer was another outburst of cheering, if anything, more vehement than before. scarcely had they finished, when captain josh strode rapidly forward, and confronted the governor. "we can't allow it," he shouted. "it's not right." he could say no more, for another deafening uproar forbade further speech. "it is no use for you to refuse, captain," the governor told him, when peace was once more restored. "the troops won't let you speak. bring your scouts up here." for a few seconds the captain hesitated. then he wheeled, and ordered his troop to advance. reaching the platform, the men there shook hands with each one of them. no one could say a word, for again the troops had let loose. the band struck up the air of "for they are jolly good fellows," and soon the assembled troops were singing the words for all they were worth. to rod the whole thing seemed like some wonderful dream. he could not remember anything the governor said after that. he only heard the captain giving the order for them to leave the stand. when they were dismissed, they were surrounded by such a crowd anxious to shake hands with them that the boys, and even the captain, were more bewildered than ever. rod was finally rescued by anna royanna, who placed her arm about his shoulder and led him away. this loving act, and the look of pride in her eyes, spoke louder than many words. that she was pleased was to him a greater reward than all the wild cheering of the scouts. chapter xxx the night run it took the hillcrest troop a long time to get settled down after the excitement of the review. whenever they met at headquarters they could do nothing but discuss everything that had taken place. for awhile they were greatly puzzled as to how the lieutenant-governor had learned so much about them. at last it leaked out that anna royanna had supplied the information. "i hope you do not mind," she said to the captain, when he asked her point blank if the rumour was true. "no, not at all," was the reply. "but i wish to goodness ye'd given us a little warnin'. it was as great a surprise as when that bear charged me up the brook. i wasn't expectin' it." "oh, i hope it was not as bad as that," was the laughing response, for the singer had heard all about the adventure with the bear. "not hardly as bad, miss. but the scouts are all upset. when not playin' baseball, they are talkin' about what happened at the review, till i'm almost discouraged." "it's only natural, captain. they'll get over their excitement in time. i could not resist the temptation of writing to the lieutenant-governor. it would have been a shame for your boys not to have received credit for what they did, and i feel sure that all the other scouts present at the review were helped by the story of their noble deed. i have just had a nice long letter from whyn, and she is delighted with what the scouts have accomplished. she sends her good wishes to the boys, and thanks them over and over again for their kindness to her." "how's she gittin' along?" the captain enquired. "it's been a week since we've had a letter from her." "she is doing nicely, so she says, and the doctor thinks she will be able to come home for christmas." "will she be well then?" "it seems so. the operation was pronounced a decided success, though it will take some time yet for her to get strong." "she's the finest girl that ever drew breath," and the captain turned away his face so as not to show the mistiness which had suddenly dimmed his eyes. "she's a plucky one, sure." three weeks after the review anna royanna left hillcrest. this was a great grief not only to the scouts but to the royals as well. but the promise that she would visit them at christmas if she could possibly arrange it, gave them some comfort. this bright sympathetic woman had entered so much into their lives, and had shared their joys and sorrows as one of themselves, that when she was gone they felt depressed for days. with the passing of summer came the fall, with long cold nights, and heavy winds. the scouts found it pleasant to meet in their snug room around the genial fire. gradually they began to settle down to the work for the first-class tests, and also to review what they had already learned. "yez must never imagine that ye know a thing thoroughly," the captain reminded them. "fer instance, there is yer signallin'. ye should be able to make each letter without thinkin' how it is to be made. and i want yez to practise up the morse system, as well as the semaphore. it'll come in mighty handy at night, when ye can't use the flags. yez kin never know too much." the scouts found great pleasure in carrying out the captain's suggestion. by means of bull's-eye lanterns they were soon able to send and receive messages at night in a most creditable manner. for a while the neighbours were startled by this performance until they learned the cause of the flashes through the darkness. the scouts had been at their room one bleak raw night, and had just left, except rod, who had gone with the captain into the anchorage for a parcel mrs. britt wished to send to the rectory. he had been there only a few minutes when several loud thumps sounded upon the door. quickly opening it, the captain was surprised to see tom dunker standing before him. this was something most unusual, for since his defeat several years ago tom had shunned both the captain and the anchorage as if they were plague-infested. stepping quickly into the kitchen, the visitor stood there with face white and haggard, and his whole body trembling. "what's wrong, tom?" the captain asked. "ye look most scared to death." "s-s-sammy's hurt," was the gasping reply. "he f-fell and broke his l-leg, and i'm afraid his n-neck, too." "why don't ye go fer the doctor, then?" the captain queried. "i c-can't. he's over the r-river, down at marshal's. he was sent fer to-day. oh, my poor sammy!" and the distressed man gave a loud wail of despair. "what d'ye want me to do, man?" the captain demanded. "go fer the doctor. i c-can't git anybody else." "h'm, is that so? i thought it must be something pretty desperate which would send ye to me." "so ye won't go?" and tom raised his eyes appealingly to the captain's face. "fer god's sake, do, or my sammy'll die." "certainly i'll go, tom, jist as soon as i git ready. you call at the rectory on yer way back, and tell the royals that rod won't be home to-night, fer i must have him with me. it'll take two to handle the _roarin' bess_. i know they won't mind so long's the boy's with me." "it's good of ye, and i shan't soon----" "there, keep that fer some other time, tom dunker," the captain interrupted. "i can't be bothered with sich nonsense now. where's my oil-skins, betsey?" and he turned to his wife. "better let rod have that old suit of mine; he might need it before we git back." rod was delighted with the idea of a run on the river on such a night. he had often imagined what it would be like to be out there in the _roaring bess_ with a strong wind blowing. to him, fear was unknown when on the water, especially when the captain was along. and so as the yacht left her mooring, and headed down-stream, he sat in the cock-pit and peered ahead into the darkness, pleased that he was on watch to give warning of any approaching vessel. a strong wind was racing in from the east, giving the captain a busy time in handling the boat. this was still more difficult when they reached the channel, and the _roaring bess_ drove into the rougher water which is always found there. the white-caps leaped high, and drenched both man and boy. "lucky we brought our oil-skins," the captain remarked. "we'll have to beat back, and then there'll be some fun. i wonder if the doctor is a good sailor. my, that was a whopper!" he exclaimed, as a larger wave than usual struck the yacht. "guess it'll be rougher before mornin'." "this is great!" rod cried, as another wave leaped upon them. "tut, that's nothin'," the captain replied. "if ye'd been with me aboard the _flyin' queen_ when we struck a gale, ye'd know something about big seas then. why, this is only a mill-pond." "i'm going to see a gale some day, captain. i want to go out on the ocean in a storm." "ye do, eh? if ye go, i guess it'll be aboard a liner, where ye'll be penned up like a rat in a trap. that's the way people travel these days, 'in luxury,' they call it. but give me my old _flyin' queen_, a strong breeze abeam, and ye kin have all yer iron or steel tubs as fer as i'm concerned." the _roaring bess_ had made good time down the river, lifting and swinging forward with long plunging leaps as if glad of the freedom she was enjoying. ere long the wharf was reached for which the captain had been heading, and in a few moments she was lying in smooth water on the lower side, safe from the wind. "you stay here, lad," the captain ordered, as he sprang ashore, and made a line fast to the nearest post. "i'll run up fer the doctor." it took him but a short time to cross the field to marshall house. here he found doctor travis, and briefly stated the object of his visit. "it's a terrible night, isn't it?" the doctor enquired. "oh, no. jist a gentle breeze." "but look at your oil-skins. you've been drenched from head to foot." "well, what of it? a little water won't hurt anybody. the more the better, is my motto." "very well, then, i'll go," and the doctor reached for his big coat and hat. then he seized his grip, and followed the captain down to the wharf. "you sit there in the middle," the captain ordered, as they reached the boat, "and keep yer head low in case the boom should take a sudden yank over. ye won't git so wet there, either." the wind on the homeward run was almost dead ahead, and it was necessary to beat from side to side of the channel. but the captain knew every inch of the way, and he was almost as much at home here at night as in the day. up and up they steadily crept, while the _roaring bess_ raced from side to side, tossing volumes of water at every plunge. rod was alert and active as a cat now, crouching close to the captain, ready to obey his slightest command. how the boy did enjoy it, and his whole body thrilled with the excitement of the wild run. the more the yacht reeled, the greater his pleasure. but the doctor had far different feelings. he liked the water, but not on such a night as this. he was sure that the boat was going over every time a furious gust struck her close-hauled sail, and he always gave a sigh of relief when she righted herself again, with no more damage than some extra water tossed on board. they were opposite the head of the island now, and had just tacked for their "short-leg" run, when, without the slightest sign of warning, something struck the mast a terrific blow. the yacht reeled wildly, the mast snapped like a pipe-stem, and fell with a splash into the water, carrying sail and all with it. the instant the blow came rod sprang to his feet, and as he did so a part of the rigging caught him, and swept him overboard. with a wild cry for help, he tried to grasp something, but he could find nothing upon which to place his fingers. the cold waters closed around him. he tried to swim, to keep afloat, but the oil-skin suit hindered him. he battled with the desperation of despair. it was a terrible fight he made for life there in that inky blackness, with the water surging about him, and trying to win him for its victim. it seemed that he had been struggling for a long time, and could resist no longer. his strength was going, and he had little power for any further effort. just at this critical moment a firm strong hand clutched him like a vise, and he knew that the captain had come to his rescue. this roused him to new hope and energy. "keep cool, now," the captain cried. "i've got hold of the riggin' here." all this had happened so suddenly that for a few seconds the doctor was dazed. he could see nothing, but he knew by the cry of the boy, and the startled roar from the captain, that something was seriously wrong. then he heard the splash as the latter went over the side. in dismay, he waited, peering through the darkness in an effort to find out what had become of his companions. it seemed like an age that he stood there until he heard the captain's voice bidding him to give a hand, and pull him in. he sprang at once to the side of the yacht, leaned far over, and stretched out his right arm. but he could touch nothing. "where are you?" he shouted. "i can't reach you." "out here," was the reply. "try ag'in." leaning farther out now upon the overturned mast, he tried once more, and had the satisfaction of feeling the sudden grip of the captain's fingers as they closed upon his own. carefully and with much difficulty, for the strain was heavy, he was able to draw the submerged man toward him. "here, take the boy," the captain gasped. "never mind me." with his left hand the doctor clutched rod's oil-skins, and was soon able to drag him into the yacht. this had scarcely been accomplished before the captain pulled himself aboard, and stood by his side. forgotten was everything else as the old seaman bent over rod as he lay in the bottom of the cock-pit. "i believe he's unconscious, doc," he cried. "is there anything ye kin do fer him?" "we must get his wet clothes off at once," was the reply. "i'll wrap him up in my great-coat." "i've a couple of blankets in the locker there," and the captain turned around, and began to fumble with his hands for the latch of the little door. "ye'd better strip him, doc." it took the latter only a few minutes to get the soaked clothes off the unconscious boy. he then wrapped him up securely in the two blankets, and laid him in a sheltered place in the cock-pit. "good lord, what will the royals say!" the captain groaned. "here we are adrift and can't lift a hand to help ourselves. i wonder what struck us, anyway." "it was something big," the doctor replied. "i heard the water striking against it as we drifted off. it is over in that direction," and he pointed to the right. "listen, you can hear it now. it's adrift, and following us." "i wonder what it kin be," the captain mused. "i can't imagine what would rip away the mast before strikin' the yacht. it is certainly very queer." "is there any chance of our drifting ashore, do you think?" the doctor asked. "it will be hard on that boy if we are forced to stay here all night." "there's a strong current runnin'," the captain returned, "and it's likely to hold us in its clutch fer some time. the tide won't change fer over an hour, and it's hard to tell where we'll be by that time. hello, what light's that up yonder?" as the doctor looked he saw a bright glare in the distance, which was becoming brighter every minute. "it's coming toward us, anyway," was his comment. "what can it be!" the captain made no reply for awhile, but stood very still, with his eyes fixed upon the approaching light. "i've got it!" he exclaimed. "it's that big tug which went up this afternoon. she's lost one of her scows in this gale, and is now lookin' fer it with her search-light out. it was the scow we struck. i understand it all now. we ran right in front of it, and its big flare of a bow caught our mast. confound bill tobin! why didn't he take care of his scow?" tide, wind, and steam soon brought the tug near. her search-light swept the water in every direction, at times dazzling the eyes of the two men in the yacht. at last it remained fixed full upon them, showing that they were observed. in a few minutes the tug was alongside. "hello, what's wrong?" came a deep gruff voice from the wheel-house. "what's wrong with you, bill tobin?" captain josh asked in reply. "ye've got us in a nice fix to-night. why didn't ye take care of yer old scow? she's smashed us, that's what's wrong." "oh, is that you, josh britt?" and captain tobin's voice suddenly changed. "climb on board, and we'll try to straighten matters out." without more words, captain josh lifted rod tenderly in his arms and scrambled up into the tug. "for heaven's sake! what have ye got there?" captain tobin exclaimed. "parson dan's son, that's who it is. got a bed ready?" "bring him here," and captain tobin turned to his right. "put him in my bed; he'll be all right there." by this time the tug-boatmen had made fast to the _roaring bess_ with a long rope, and kept her in tow as the tug was swung around and headed for the drifting scow. "we'll just run that confounded scow into the lee of the island," captain tobin told the ship-wrecked men, "and then we'll put you ashore as fast as this old tub can travel. will that do?" "i s'pose so," captain josh replied. "but git a big hustle on. ye've got something more important than a scow to save to-night." chapter xxxi better than a fairy tale news of the accident on the river soon spread throughout the parish. for a time various kinds of reports were in circulation, until it was learned that rod was the only one who had received any injury. it was told how captain josh had carried him up to the rectory, while the doctor went ahead to tell the royals what had happened. while the neighbours talked, rod was lying in his little bed in the grip of a raging fever. he knew nothing of what was going on around him, nor how anxious ones watched him night and day. it was miss arabella who came to mrs. royal's assistance in this time of need to help with the household affairs. her tongue had lost none of its sharpness for those she disliked, but for her friends she was most loyal. she would have done almost anything for rod, and she was not slow in expressing her opinion of tom dunker and "his whole tribe" for causing so much trouble. captain josh almost camped in the rectory kitchen. when not there, he was wandering about the door-yard right in front of rod's window. he ate and slept at the anchorage, but that was about all. "it's my fault that the boy is sick," he told his wife, "and it's up to me to be on hand in case of need. jimmy kin look after things around here while i'm away." numerous were the visitors who came to the rectory to enquire about the sick boy. tom dunker was one of them, and he found the captain on guard at the back-door. "how's rod to-day, cap'n?" he asked. "no better," was the gruff reply. "had a bad night." "i'm real sorry, cap'n, i surely am," tom blubbered. "to think that he did it all fer my sammy." "how is yer kid?" the captain questioned. "he's better, thank the lord. the doctor got there jist in time. but fer you and rod he'd be dead now." "cut that out, tom. i'm not used to sich stuff." "but i can't help it, cap'n," the visitor sniffled. "i can't sleep at nights fer thinkin' of it all. i shan't fergit it in a hurry, oh, no." "big fool," the captain muttered to himself as he watched tom shuffle away. "it takes a mighty hard blow to knock any sense into a head sich as his." as the days passed, rod became more restless, and kept calling for anna royanna. it was hard for the anxious watchers to listen to his piteous pleadings. the doctor's face grew grave during one of his frequent visits as he watched the raving boy. "do you suppose she'd come?" he asked parson dan, who had followed him into the room. "would it do any good, doctor?" "it might. one can never tell. anyway, i think that miss royanna should be told how sick he is. she is very fond of the boy. you should send word to his mother as well." "you're right, doctor," the clergyman replied. "i shall send two messages at once." in less than two days anna royanna entered the room where rod was lying. she had been driven from the station by a fast team. her face was pale and worn, clearly showing that little or no sleep had come to her eyes the night before. in fact, she had not slept since she had received parson dan's message. everything else was forgotten. only one thing mattered to her, and that was the boy lying sick unto death in far-off hillcrest. rod had been more restless than ever during the night, and the fever was at its highest. all realised that this was the crisis, and that a short time would decide everything. he was still calling and raving as the singer entered the room. stepping quickly to his side, she placed her hand upon his hot forehead. "hush," she soothed. "i am here. it is anna royanna." that touch, more than the words, seemed to have a magic effect. the parched burning lips ceased to move, the staring eyes closed, and with a deep sigh rod turned his head on the pillow, and sank into a peaceful sleep. lovingly, and with eyes brimming with tears, the woman stood for some time and watched the boy. then a light step aroused her. it was the doctor. "the turn has come," he whispered. "you were just in time." rod rapidly recovered, and there was joy not only at the rectory but throughout the entire parish. captain josh was almost beside himself with joy, while the scouts plucked up sufficient courage to meet at headquarters to talk about the accident, and their patrol-leader's illness. it was a great day for rod when he was able to sit up and receive visitors. captain josh had been often in the room, but so far the scouts had not been allowed to come. when at last they were given permission to visit the invalid, they could not get to the rectory fast enough. they were surprised to see rod so thin and white, and when they left after their brief visit, they hurried back to headquarters for another long talk. rod was never so happy as when anna royanna was with him. many were the stories she told, and she would often read to him. she seemed to be in no hurry about going away, and this pleased the boy, as he wanted her to stay until after christmas. they were to have a big time on christmas day, so he told her. captain josh and the scouts were coming for dinner, and perhaps whyn would be home. one day rod noticed that mr. and mrs. royal seemed happier than usual when they came into his room. though no parents could have been kinder than they ever were to him, yet now there appeared a marked difference. he could not explain what it was, but at times he found them both watching him with a new expression in their eyes. he even caught mrs. royal brushing away a tear, which surprised him. "what makes you cry, grandma?" he asked. "oh, several things, dear," was the reply. "people sometimes cry when they are very happy, you know." "i understand, grandma. you are happy because i am getting well." that evening after rod was snugly tucked in bed, miss royanna came and sat down by his side. she had a book in her hand and she was going to read to him as was her custom now. "tell me a story, please," rod begged. "i like that better, and your stories are so interesting." "what kind do you want to-night?" the woman asked, as she looked into the bright eyes before her. "oh, anything. you always know best." for awhile anna royanna remained silent, to all outward appearance very calm. but she was greatly agitated. she knew that the moment had arrived of which she had dreamed for years. would it make any change in him? she wondered. would he feel the same toward her? "what are you thinking about?" rod questioned. "about what i am going to tell you," and the woman gave a slight laugh. "it's the most wonderful story you ever heard." "better than a fairy tale?" "you can judge that for yourself when you hear it." "all right, then. go ahead." "the beginning of this story goes back quite a number of years," the woman began. "there was a young man who went away from home, and left his father and mother alone. they missed him very much, for he was their only child. he was a handsome man, and all who saw him admired him. after awhile he met a woman who loved him dearly. they were married, and lived so happily together in a little cottage with trees all around it. they didn't have much money, but they had each other, and that meant so much to them. at last a little stranger came to their home, a dear baby boy, and then their cup of joy was full. he was so sweet and cunning, and they were never tired of watching him grow. then something terrible happened. the father of the baby was suddenly killed." "oh!" it was all rod could say, as with eyes full of sorrow he fixed them upon the face of the story-teller. "yes, he was killed," the woman continued in a low voice, while with a great effort she restrained her feelings. "it was in a railway accident. his wife was thus left alone. she was a stranger and without money, and for days she wandered about trying to get work. but no one wanted a woman with a baby. she was told to put it either in the poor-house, or the orphan home, or let somebody adopt it. if she did this, she knew that she would have to give up her darling forever, and this she could not do. "at last, in despair, she worked her way back to her husband's old home. it was a dark cold night when she reached the house, and there she left the baby, and hurried away as fast as she could." "why didn't she stay there?" rod enquired. "wouldn't they have been glad to take her in? i know i should." "yes, dear, they certainly would. but this woman did not know them then, and she was very independent. she made up her mind that she would work hard, and when she had enough money she would go to see her boy." "and did she?" was the eager enquiry. "not for years did she see him again. she worked so hard, and at times people treated her most cruelly. but her little boy was ever in her mind. for him she toiled, and for his sake she was willing to put up with almost anything. she sent what money she could for his support, but that was very little at first. then one night she saw her boy! it was in a city, and she knew who he was, though he didn't know her. oh, how she wanted to put her arms around him, and kiss him." "why didn't she do it?" rod asked. "what stopped her?" "she was afraid that he wouldn't love her as a boy should love his mother. so she made up her mind that she would win his love first, and when she was certain, then she would tell him who she was." "and did she?" "not for some time. you see, she went under a name different from her real one. she saw her husband's father and mother, and became well acquainted with them. but she did not tell them who she was, as she wanted them to love her too. then, there was something else which kept her from telling people who she really was. she made her living----" here she paused, as if uncertain how to proceed. "how?" rod enquired. "by going on the stage." "oh, she was an actress, then," the boy exclaimed. "i have read about such people." "no, not exactly that. but she sang on the stage." "oh!" "what's the matter, dear?" the woman enquired. "nothing much. only something funny came into my mind. that's all." "yes, she sang in public," the story-teller continued, "and she had made an agreement to sing for three years. she was afraid that if people knew that she was going under a wrong name it might make trouble. anyway, she was sure it would make a whole lot of talk, and she didn't want that to happen for awhile. it was one night after she was through singing that she met her little boy. he came with another boy to see her, and asked her to go and sing for a sick girl at hillcrest." with a startled cry of joy, rod sat up suddenly in bed. his eyes fairly blazed with excitement, and his body trembled. "are you the woman?" he cried. "am i the boy? are you my mother? oh, tell me quick. is it really true?" "yes, dear," and the woman caught both of his hands in hers, "every word is true. you are my own boy, and i am your mother. are you glad?" the expression upon rod's face, as with a deep sigh of relief he lay back once more upon the pillow, was answer enough. all the old dread that the other mother would come back and carry him off suddenly disappeared. and yet he wondered about the letters she used to write. a puzzled look came into his eyes. "what is it?" his mother asked. "are you sorry?" "oh, no. but i was wondering about that other woman who used to write to me, who said she was my mother." "it was i who wrote those letters, dear. i had to, you see." "and you are not anna royanna, after all?" "no. my real name is anna royal. i only changed part of the last name to royanna." "why, it's just like a fairy tale," rod exclaimed. "but, no, it isn't, either," he mused. "a fairy tale is only a make-believe, while this is really true. it's better than a fairy tale. isn't it great!" and his eyes sparkled. "but, say, do grandad and grandma know about it?" "yes, dear. i told them last night." "and i bet they were pleased." "indeed they were. i wish you could have seen their faces when i told them that you are alec's boy, and their own real grandson." for a few minutes there was silence, rod thinking of all that he had heard, and his mother recalling the night before, when she had revealed to mr. and mrs. royal the story of her life. never should she forget the look of intense joy which came into their eyes, nor the sweet peace which possessed her heart as they enfolded her in their arms, kissed her, and called her "daughter." it had seemed almost too good to be true. she was roused by rod's voice. "may i tell captain josh?" he asked. "it would be great for him to know." "we talked that over last night, dear," was the reply. "christmas will soon be here, and you are to have a party on that day. how would it do to wait until then?" "oh, that'll be great! captain josh, and the scouts will be here." "yes, and whyn will be back by that time, so i understand, and we can arrange for her and her mother to come up from the city. will that do?" "won't it be great!" and rod fairly shook with delight. "it certainly will. we shall all go to the service on christmas morning, and your grandfather wants to offer up special thanks for all the blessings we have received. we shall then come home for dinner, and have all the afternoon and evening for games." when captain josh came to see rod the next day, he noticed the happy expression upon the boy's face. "what's up, lad?" he asked. "what do you mean, captain?" "oh, i hardly know," and the old man scratched his head in perplexity. "but everybody in this house seems about ready to explode with excitement. i never saw sich a happy bunch in all my life. ye'd think that summer had been suddenly dumped down here, with all the birds singin', the bees hummin', and the flowers bloomin'. that's the only way i kin describe it." "i guess you're about right, captain," was rod's brief reply, for he was determined not to give away the wonderful secret. [illustration: cover art] boy scout series volume the boy scout fire fighters or jack danby's bravest deed by major robert maitland the saalfield publishing company chicago ---- akron, ohio ---- new york copyright, by the saalfield publishing co. contents chapter i at the edge of the fire ii fighting the fire iii what the spy saw iv the double header v tom binns' bad luck vi the attack on the station vii jack danby's peril viii the rescue ix a swimming party x the burning launch xi the mystery deepens xii an ungrateful parent xiii the moving pictures xiv a foolish strike xv the dynamiters xvi off on a long hike xvii a timely warning [transcriber's notes: two chapters in the source book were misnumbered. chapters in this ebook have been renumbered. the last numbered page in the source book was page , but damage to the book indicates that a number of pages were missing after that point. since the original book did not have a table of contents, it is unknown what may be missing.] the boy scout fire fighters chapter i at the edge of the fire a pall of smoke, dark, ugly, threatening, hung over a wood in which the thirty-ninth troop of the boy scouts had been spending a saturday afternoon in camp. they had been hard at work at signal practice, semaphoring, and acquiring speed in morse signaling with flags, which makes wireless unnecessary when there are enough signalers, covering enough ground. the scout camp was near the edge of the woods. beyond its site stretched level fields, sloping gradually upward from them toward a wooded mountain. the smoke came from the mountain, and in the growing blackness over the mountain a circular ring proclaimed the spreading fire. "gee, that looks like some fire, jack," said pete stubbs, a tenderfoot scout, to his chum, jack danby, head office-boy in the place where he and pete both worked. "i'm afraid it is," said jack, looking anxiously toward it. "i never saw one as big as that before," said pete. "i've heard about them, but we never had one like that anywhere around here." "we used to have pretty bad ones up at woodleigh," returned jack. "i don't like the looks of that fire a bit. it's burning slowly enough now, but if they don't look out, it'll get away from them and come sweeping down over the fields here." "say, jack, that's right, too! i should think they'd want to be more careful there in the farmhouses. there's some of them pretty close to the edge of the woods over there." scout-master thomas durland, who was in charge of the troop, came up to them just then. "danby," he said, "take your signaling flags, and go over toward that fire. i want you to examine the situation and report if there seems to be any danger of the fire spreading to the lowlands and endangering anything there." "yes, sir," said jack at once, raising his hand in the scout salute and standing at attention as the scout-master, the highest officer of the troop of scouts, spoke to him. his hand was at his forehead, three middle fingers raised, and thumb bent over little finger. "take scout stubbs with you," said the scout-master. "you may need help in examining the country over there. i don't know much about it. what we want to find out is whether the ground is bare, and so likely to resist the fire, or if it is covered with stubble and short, dry growth that will burn quickly." "yes, sir!" "look out for water, too. there may be some brooks so small that we can't see them from here. but i'm afraid not. every brook around here seems to be dried up. the drought has been so bad that there is almost no water left. a great many springs, even, that have never failed in the memory of the oldest inhabitants, have run dry in the last month or so. the wind is blowing this way, and the fire seems to be running over from the other side of bald mountain there. from the looks of the smoke, there must be a lot of fire on the other side." no more orders were needed. the two scouts, hurrying off, went across the clear space at the scout pace, fifty steps running, then fifty steps walking. that is a better pace for fast travelling, except very short distances, than a steady run, for it can be kept up much longer without tiring, and boy scouts everywhere have learned to use it. "why do they call that bald mountain, i wonder?" said pete, as they went along. "it isn't bald any more'n i am. there are trees all over the top." "i don't know, pete. places get funny names, sometimes, just the same way that people do. it doesn't make much difference, though, in the case of a mountain." "nor people, either, jack," said pete stubbs, stoutly. he had noticed a queer look on his chum's face, and he remembered something that he always had to be reminded of--the strange mystery of jack's name. he was called jack danby, but he himself, and a few of his best friends, knew, that he had no real right to that name. what his own real name was was something that was known to only one man, as far as his knowledge went, and that one a man who was his bitter enemy, and far more bent on harming him than doing him the favor of clearing up the mystery of his birth and his strange boyhood at woodleigh. there jack had lived in a cabin in the woods with a quaint old character called dan. he had always been known as jack, and people had spoken of him as dan's boy. by an easy corruption that had been transformed into danby, and the name had stuck. he had come to the city through the very troop of boy scouts to which he now belonged. they had been in camp near woodleigh, and jack had played various pranks on them before he had struck up a great friendship with one of them, little tom binns, and so had been allowed by durland to join the scouts. more than that, durland had persuaded him to come to the city, and had found a job for him, in which jack had covered himself with glory, and done credit both himself and durland, who had recommended him. "gee, it's getting smoky," said pete, as they reached the first gentle rise at the foot of the mountain, though it had seemed to rise abruptly when viewed from a distance. "a woods fire always makes this sort of a thick, choking smoke. there's a lot of damp stuff that burns with the dry wood. leaves that lie on the ground and rot make a good deal of the smoke, and then there's a lot of moisture in the trees even in the driest weather." "sure there is, jack! they take all the water there is when the rain falls and keep it for the dry weather, don't they, like a camel?" "that's a funny idea, pete, comparing a tree to a camel, but i don't know that it's so bad, at that. it is rather on the same principle, when you come to think of it." men were working in the fields as they approached the fire. they seemed indifferent to the danger that durland feared. one boy not much older than themselves stared at the carroty head of pete stubbs, and laughed aloud. "hey, carrots," he cried, "ain't you afraid of settin' yourself on fire?" "you ain't so good lookin' yourself!" pete flamed back, but jack put a hand on his arm. "easy there, pete!" he said. "we're on scout duty now. don't mind him." a little further on they met an older man, who seemed to be the farmer. "aren't you afraid the fire may spread this way?" asked jack, stopping to speak to him. "naw! ain't never come here yet. reckon it won't now, neither." "there always has to be a first time for everything, you know," said jack, secretly annoyed at the stolid indifference of the farmer, who seemed interested in nothing but the tobacco he was chewing. "tain't no consarn of your'n, be it?" asked the farmer, looking at them as if he had small use for boys who were not working. he forgot that pete and jack, coming from the city, might work almost as hard there through the week as he did on his farm, without the healthful outdoor life to lessen the weariness. "sure it ain't!" said pete, goaded into replying. "we thought maybe you'd like to know there was a good chance that your place might be burnt up. if you don't care, we don't. that's a lead pipe cinch!" "come on, pete," said jack. "they'll be looking for a signal pretty soon. if we don't hurry, it'll be too dark for them to see our flags when we really have something to report." the fields nearest the mountain and the fire were full of stubble that would burn like tinder, as jack knew. the corn had been cut, and the dry stalks, that would carry the flames and give them fresh fuel to feed on, remained. not far beyond, too, were several great haystacks, and in other fields the hay had been cut and was piled ready for carrying into the barns the next day. if the fire, with a good start, ever did leap across the cleared space from the woods it would be hard, if not impossible, to prevent it from spreading thus right up to the outhouses, the barns, and the farmhouses themselves. moreover, there was no water here. there were the courses of two little brooks that in rainy weather had watered the land, but now these were dried up, and there was no hope of succor from that side. as they approached the woods, too, jack looked gravely at what he saw. timber had been cut here the previous winter, and badly and wastefully cut, too, in a way that was now a serious menace. the stumps, high above ground, much higher than they should have been, offered fresh fuel for the fire, dead and dry as they were, and over the ground were scattered numerous rotting branches that should have been gathered up and carried in for firewood. "looks bad, doesn't it?" jack said to pete. "it certainly does," rejoined his companion. "now we've got to find a place where we can do the signaling." "i see a place," said jack, "and i think i can reach it pretty easily, too. see that rock up there, that sticks out from the side of the mountain? i bet you can see that a long way off. you go on up to where the fire's burning. get as near as you can, and see how fast it's coming. then work your way back to the rock and tell me what you've seen." "right, oh!" said pete. "i'm off, jack!" though the smoke was thick, now, and oppressive, so that he coughed a good deal, and his eyes ran and smarted from the acrid smell, jack made his way steadfastly toward the rock, which he reached without great difficulty. he was perhaps a mile from the scout camp, and there, he knew, they were looking anxiously for the first flashing of his red and white flags to announce that he was ready to report. he stood out on the rock, and, after a minute of hard waving of his flags, he caught the answer. thus communication was established, and he began to make his report. he had no fear of being misunderstood, for it was dick crawford, the assistant scout-master and his good friend, who was holding the flags at the other end, and not some novice who was getting practice in signaling, one of the pieces of scout lore in which jack had speedily become an adept. "bad fire," he wig-wagged back. "seems to be spreading fast. ground very bad. likely to spread, i think. fields full of stubble. no water at all. brooks and springs all dried up." "mr. durland says have you warned men working in the fields?" "not yet," was the answer from jack. "but they think it's all right, and seem to think we're playing a game." then jack dropped his flags in token of his desire to stop for a minute, and turned to pete stubbs, who had come up. "it's burning mighty fast," said pete. "the woods are awfully dry up there. there's no green stuff at all to hold it in check. if those people on the farm down there don't look out, they'll be in a lot of trouble." jack sent that information, too, and then came orders from dick crawford. "return to camp," the assistant scout-master flashed. "warn farmer and men of danger. suggest a back fire in their fields, to give clear space fire cannot jump. then report, verbally, result of warning." the warning was a waste of breath and effort. "think you can learn me my business?" asked the farmer, indignantly. "i don't need no boy scouts to tell me how to look after my property. be off with you, now, and don't bother us! we're busy here, working for a living. haven't got time to run around playing the way you do." jack felt that it was useless to argue. this farmer was one who believed that all boys were full of mischief. he didn't know anything about the boy scout movement and the new sort of boy that it has produced and is producing, in ever growing numbers. so jack and pete went on to camp, and there jack made his report to durland. "it would serve him right to have his place burned," said durland, "but we can't work on that theory. and there are others who would suffer, too, and that wouldn't be right. so we'll just go over there and stop that fire ourselves." there was a chorus of cheers in reply to that. the idea of having a chance to fight a really big fire like this awoke all the enthusiasm of the scouts of the three patrols, the whip-poor-wills, the raccoons and the crows, this last the one to which jack and pete belonged. so off they went, with durland in the lead. chapter ii fighting the fire the three patrols of the troop had been nearly at full strength when the hike to the camping ground began, and durland had at his disposal, therefore, when he led them across the open fields toward the burning mountain, about twenty quick, disciplined and thoroughly enthusiastic scouts, ready to do anything that was ordered, and to do it with a will. "what's it like over there, jack?" asked tom binns, who was jack danby's particular chum among the scouts, and the one who had really induced him to join the crows. "it's going to be pretty hot work, tom," said jack. "there's no water at all, and the only chance to stop that fire is by back firing." "that's pretty dangerous, isn't it?" "yes, unless the man who's doing it knows exactly what he wants to do and exactly how to do it. but i guess mr. durland and dick crawford won't make any mistakes." "it's lucky for these farmers that mr. durland knows a fire when he sees it, isn't it, jack? if they let that fire alone, bob hart said it would sweep over the whole place and burn up the farmhouses." "sure it would! the trouble is they never believe anything until they see it. they think that just because there never was a really bad fire here before, there never will be." "there have been fires on bald mountain before, though, jack. i've seen them myself." "that's true enough--and that's just the trouble. this is the trouble. there's been scarcely any rain here for the last two months, and everything is fearfully dry. if the brooks were full the fire wouldn't be so likely to jump them. but, as it is, any old thing may happen. that's the danger--and they can't see it." each scout was carrying his scout axe and stick, a stout pole that was useful in a hundred different ways on every hike. the axes were out now, and the sharp knives that each scout carried were also ready for instant use. durland, at the head of the little column in which the scouts had formed, was casting his keen eye over the whole landscape. now he gave the order to halt. the scouts had reached the edge of the fertile land. the course of the little stream was directly before them, and on the other side was the land that had been partially cleared of timber the year before, filled with stumps and dry brush. "go over and borrow a few shovels from the farmhouse over there," directed durland. "crawford, take a couple of scouts and get them. i want those shovels, whether they want to lend them to you or not. it's for their own sake--we can't stand on ceremony if they won't or can't understand the danger." "come on, danby and binns," said dick crawford, a happy smile on his lips, and the light of battle in his eyes. "we'll get those shovels if they're to be found there, believe me!" the farmer and most of the men, of course, were in the fields, still at work. if they had seen the advance of the scouts they had paid no attention whatever, and seemed to have no curiosity, even when three of the scouts left the main body, and went over to the farmhouse. there dick and the others found a woman, hatchet faced and determined, with a bulldog and a hulking, overgrown boy for company. she sat on the back porch, peeling potatoes, and there was no welcome in the look she gave them. "be off with you!" she shrilled at them. "you'll get no hand-outs here! you're worse'n tramps, you boys be, running over honest people's land, and stealing fruit. be off now, or i'll set the dog onto ye!" "we only want to borrow some shovels, ma'am," explained dick crawford, politely, trying to hide a smile at her vehement way of expressing herself. "what next?" she cried. "shovels, is it? and a fine chance we'd have of ever seeing them ag'in if we let you have them, wouldn't we? here, tige! sic 'em, boy, sic 'em!" the dog's hair rose on his back, and he growled menacingly as he advanced toward them. but there jack danby was in his own element. there had never been an animal yet, wild or tame, that he had ever seen, with which he could not make friends. he dropped to one knee now, while the others watched him, and spoke to the dog. in a moment the savagery went out of the bulldog, who, as it seemed, was really little more than a puppy, and he came playfully up to jack, anxious to be friendly. "the dog knows, you see," said dick. "a dog will never make friends with anyone who is unworthy, ma'am. don't you think you could follow his example, and trust us?" "you'll get no shovels here," said the woman, with a surly look. "oh, i don't know!" said little tom binns, under his breath. his eyes had been busy, darting all around, and he had seen a number of shovels, scattered with other farm implements, under a pile of brushwood. he leaped over to this pile now, suddenly, before the loutish boy who was helping with the potatoes could make a move to stop him, and in a moment he was dancing off, his arms full of shovels. dick crawford saw what had happened, and could not help approving. "thank you," he said to the enraged woman, who rose and seemed about to take a hand herself, physically. "i'm sorry we had to help ourselves, but it's necessary to save your home, though your own men don't seem to think so." they were off then, with the woman shouting after them, and trying to induce the dog, who stood wagging his tail, to give chase. "i don't like to take things that way," said dick, "but if ever the end justified the means, this was the time. we had to have those shovels, and it's just as i told her--it's for their sake that we took them, not for ours at all." "what will we do with these shovels when we get them?" asked tom binns, who had distributed his load so that each of the others had some shovels to carry. they made a heavy load, even so, and tom couldn't have carried them all for more than a few steps without dropping from their weight. "i guess mr. durland intends to dig a trench, and then start a back fire," said crawford. "you see, the wind is so strong that if we started a back fire without precaution like that it would be simply hastening destruction of the property we are trying to save, and it would be better not to interfere at all than to do that. with the trench, you see, the fire we start will be quickly stopped, and the other fire won't have anything to feed on when it once reaches the part that we've burned over." crawford had guessed aright the reason for getting the shovels, for durland, as soon as the three scouts reached the stream with their precious burden of shovels, picked out the strongest scouts and set them to work digging the trench. he took a shovel himself, and set the best of examples by the way he made the dirt fly. they were working on a sort of a ridge. on each side there was a natural barrier to the advance of the fire, fortunately, in the form of rock quarries, where there was absolutely nothing that the fire could feed on. therefore, if it hadn't been checked, it would have swept over the place where they had dug their trench, as through the mouth of a funnel, and mushroomed out again beyond the quarries. the trench was dug in an amazingly short time. it was rough work, but effective, the ditch, about two feet deep and seven or eight feet wide, extending for nearly two hundred feet. on the side of this furthest from the fire durland now lined up the scouts, each armed with a branch covered with leaves at one end. "i'm going to start a back fire now," he said. "i don't think it will be big enough to leap the trench, but to make sure, you will all stay lined up on your side of the ditch, and beat out every spark that comes across and catches the dry grass on your side. then we'll be absolutely safe." he and crawford, skilled in the ways of the woods, soon had the brush on the other side burning. the rate at which the little fire they set spread, showed beyond a doubt how quickly the great fire that was sweeping down the mountain would have crossed the supposed clearing. "gee, see how it licks around those stumps!" said tom binns. "it's just as if they'd started a fire in a furnace or a big open fireplace." "that's the wind," said jack. "it's blowing pretty hard. i think the danger will be pretty well over by tonight, for the time being, at least. unless i'm very much mistaken, there's rain coming behind that wind." "it's hard to tell," said bob hart, patrol leader of the crows, waiting with his branch for the time to beat out sparks. "the smoke darkens the sky so that all weather signs fail. the sun glows red through it, and you can't really tell, here, whether there are any rain clouds or not. but it's a wet wind, certainly, and i guess you're right, jack." "i don't see how you can tell about the weather as well as you do, jack," said pete stubbs. "you never seem to be wrong, and since i've known you, you've guessed better than the papers two or three times." "i've lived in the woods nearly all my life, pete. that's why i can sometimes tell. i'm not always right, by a good deal, but the sky and the trees and the birds are pretty good weather prophets as a rule. in the country you have to be able to tell about the weather." "that's right," said bob hart. "i've known farmers, when there was a moon, to keep men working until after midnight to get the hay in, just because they were sure there'd be a storm the next day. and they were right, too, though everyone else laughed at them." "it means an awful lot to a farmer to get his hay in before the rain comes," said jack. "it means the difference between a good year and a bad year, often. many a farm has been lost just because a crop like that failed and the farmer couldn't pay a mortgage when he had expected to." "well, if they're all as stupid as this fellow, they deserve to lose their farms," said bob hart. "here he comes now, and he looks mad enough to shoot us!" it was true. the irate farmer was coming, pitchfork in hand, with his two sturdy sons and a couple of farm hands, who grinned as if they neither knew nor cared what would happen, but were glad of a chance for a little excitement. "who gave you leave to dig your ditch here?" he shouted. "this is my land, i reckon. be off with you now! and look at the fire you started!" indignantly he made for bob hart with his pitchfork. he was worked up to a regular fury, and it might have fared ill with the patrol leader had it not been for jack danby's quick leap to the rescue. "you don't want to use that pitchfork," shouted jack, springing forward. and, before the astonished farmer realized what the scout was up to, the pitchfork had been seized from his hand. "what's the trouble here?" cried durland, rushing up just then. "shame on you, my man! can't you see that we've saved your farm?" he seized the farmer by the shoulders and spun him around to face the sea of fire that was billowing down the slopes from the blazing mountain, that was now a real torch. the fire had passed beyond the stage of the slow burning circle that is so characteristic of wood fires. it was rushing relentlessly forward, and even now it was at the edge of the clearing. "there!" cried durland. "you can see now how it would have eaten that cleared timber lot of yours. see?" the back fire had been started half way in the timber lot. it had traveled fast, and before the onrushing big fire was a space a hundred yards wide of blackened ground, where the saving flames durland had lighted had had their will. as far as that space came the big fire. then, because there was nothing left to feed it and the gap was too wide for it to leap, it stopped, and there was an open space, already burnt over, where only sparks and glowing embers remained. "jumping wildcats!" exclaimed the farmer, in awe. "that was a purty sizable fire! i say, stranger, i guess i was a leetle mite hasty just now. you've saved us from a bad fire, all right, though i swum i don't see how you thought to do it." "this is exceptional for this part of the country," said durland, with a smile. "but i have lived in countries where whole towns have been swept away by a sudden shift of the wind just because the people thought they were safe, and i have learned that the only way to fight fire is with more fire. also, that you never can tell what a big fire is going to do, and that the only way to be on the safe side is to figure that the fire is going after you just as if it was human. it wants to destroy you, as it seems, and it keeps on looking for the weak spot that you haven't guarded." "you come right back to the house, all of you," said the farmer, "and the wife will give you a supper that you don't see the like of in town very often, i'll warrant ye!" durland was glad to accept the invitation for the whole troop, for the scouts had had no time to cook their own supper. he felt, too, that his troop had won a sturdy friend, and that pleased him. chapter iii what the spy saw the boys who had fought the fire and saved the farm were so tired the next day that most of them, including jack danby and pete stubbs, were glad to spend the whole day in rest. the work had been more exhausting than they had been able thoroughly to understand in the heat and rush of getting it done. the next day saw them with aching muscles, sore feet, and eyes that still smarted from the acrid wood smoke. it was sunday, so, of course, there was no reason why they should not rest as much as they liked. "we sure want to rest up today, jack," said pete stubbs, in the afternoon, when they had gone to grant park to lie on the grass and watch a game of baseball that was being played by two teams of young men who had no other day for games of any sort. "tomorrow's field day, you know." "i know it is, pete. i've been practicing long enough to remember that!" monday of that week was a holiday in that state, and all the scouts had the day to themselves. durland, always trying to think of things to make life in his troop interesting and happy, had devised the plan of a field day, in which there should be games of all sorts. there was to be a baseball tournament between the three patrols for the championship of the troop, and a set of athletic games, including running, jumping, and all sorts of sports. there were eight scouts in each patrol, and, to make up a full nine, each had been allowed to select one boy from its waiting list so that the roster might be complete. jack danby was the hope of the crow patrol in these sports. he was a wonderfully fine athlete for a boy of his age, and was proficient in many games. there had been no other real candidate for the post of pitcher on the crow baseball team, and he was expected to make a new record in strike-outs the next day. "how's your arm, jack?" asked pete stubbs, anxiously. "you didn't strain it yesterday, did you, digging that ditch?" "not a bit," said jack, with a laugh. "it did it good, i think. i'm not much of a pitcher, but if we get licked tomorrow the work i did yesterday won't be any excuse. i'm as fit as any of the others, and i won't mind admitting that anyone who pitches better than i do tomorrow deserves to win." "gee, jack, i hope i do some hitting! i'm crazy to make a home run!" "don't worry about it, pete. that's the worst way you can do if you really want to bat well. and remember that while it's fine to knock out a home run and have everyone yelling and cheering you, the fellow that sacrifices is often the one that wins the game." "it seems hard, though, jack, just to bunt and know you're going to be thrown out when you really might be able to make a hit." "it's the team that counts, though, pete. always remember that. and a scout ought to be able to obey his captain's orders just as well in a baseball game as any other time. just remember that there's a reason for everything, even if you can't always understand it yourself, and you won't mind making a sacrifice hit when what you want to do is to knock the cover off the ball." "i'm going to play short stop tomorrow, jack. bob hart brought me in from the outfield and put jack binns out there. he says tom can play better with the sun in his eyes than anyone on the team. i missed a catch the last game we had because i couldn't see the ball." "it's a mighty hard thing to do, to play the sun field well," said jack. "i wonder how that new pitcher the raccoons have will do?" "he's their extra pitcher, and i guess he's a good one, jack. he pitched for the bliss school team last spring, and they say his pitching was what won the county championship for them." "don't you believe it, pete! he had a good team behind him. that won the championship. no one man ever won a championship for a team, or ever will. he's a good pitcher, and he probably helped them a lot, but it's the team that does the work, every time." "well, i don't know, jack. in their big game, with the high school, he struck out fourteen men and the other side didn't get a run. his team only made one run off the high school pitcher, so he had to do it pretty nearly by himself. i hope you beat him, anyhow. he's got an awful swelled head. they say the only reason he wants to join the scouts is so that he can get a chance to show he's a better pitcher than you are. that's homer lawrence all over!" "oh, i guess he's all right. i think he's a pretty nice fellow. i was talking to him the other day." "his father's one of the richest men in this town, jack. he has all the money he wants, and he's been taking lessons in pitching from one of the state league players. that's why he's so good, i guess. the other fellows don't have a chance to learn things that way." "it isn't always the fellows who had the most lessons who are the best players, pete. ty cobb never had any lessons in baseball but he's a pretty good player. and there are lots of others." "i don't think it's fair, anyhow, jack. the raccoons oughtn't to have picked him out. he's a long way off from the top of their list, and i don't believe he'll get in this year." "that's the rule we made, pete. each patrol needed an extra player, and they were allowed to pick anyone at all they liked from their waiting lists. so it's perfectly fair, and we haven't any kick coming." jack was willing to rest for quite a while after that, but presently he began to feel more energetic. "come on, pete," he said, "i'll pitch a few balls to you somewhere, if we can get a bat and a ball, and perhaps that'll help you in your batting tomorrow." so they left the park, and went back toward their homes. at jack's room they got a bat and ball, and then wondered where they should go for their practice. "i know!" cried pete. "down by the river there. there's nothing doing there on sundays--it's quiet as can be. and maybe we'll find some little kid around to chase balls for us." "any place you like, pete; it's all the same to me. i'll be glad to limber my arm up a little, too. it feels a tiny bit stiff, and a good work-out will be fine for it." because it was sunday they tried to keep their bat out of sight. "i don't think it's wrong for us to practice this way," said jack. "we have to work all week, and i think we need exercise. if we can't get it except on sunday afternoons, it's all right to practice a little, though i wouldn't play in a regular game, because i do get a chance for playing on saturdays now. they don't give you saturday afternoon off in every office, though, i can tell you." first of all pete, highly elated at the chance to further his secret ambition of developing into a catcher, put on a big mitt and jack pitched all sorts of curves to him. then he took his bat and tried to straighten out the elusive, deceptive balls that jack pitched. "gee, i can hardly see the ball, much less hit it!" exclaimed pete, after whiffing ingloriously at the air two or three times and barely tapping the sphere on several other occasions. "keep on trying, pete. those aren't really bard to hit. the trouble is you don't watch the ball." "it never goes where i think it will, jack." "that's the whole idea of pitching, pete. keep your eyes on the ball after i pitch it, not on me. then you can see just what it does. now you think i'm going to pitch one sort of a ball, and if i pitch anything else, you're up in the air right away." at last, in huge disgust, pete hurled his bat away from him, after making a mighty swing at a slow floater. he seemed to be furious. "easy there, pete!" said jack, amused at this display of temper, as he picked up the bat and advanced toward pete to return it to him. "i wasn't mad," said pete, in a low whisper. "i just wanted to talk to you without anyone knowing that i wanted to. say, jack, there's someone watching us." "watching us, pete? why should anyone do that?" "it's lawrence,--that chap that's going to pitch for the raccoons, jack. i'm sure of it! he and harry norman are behind that fence over there--the sneaks!" jack dropped back to his position without saying anything more. he was careful for a minute or two not to look in the direction of the fence that pete had referred to. but when he did look, his keen eyes were not long in finding out that pete had been right. there were spies behind the fence, and they were studying every ball he pitched. a few moments later he found, or made, another chance to speak to pete. "you were right, pete," he said. "they are watching us from there." "let's chase them out of there, jack!" "not a bit of it, pete. i don't want them to know we've found out they're there--not now, at any rate. if they're mean enough to try to find something out by spying that way, i'll be mean enough to give them something to look at that won't do them much good!" "say, jack, that's the stuff! that's better than giving them a licking, too. what'll you do?" "just wait and see! and hit these balls just as hard as you can." the ball looked as big as a house now to pete as it came sailing up to him. mysteriously all the "stuff" that jack had been "putting on" the ball was gone and done with. the balls jack pitched now were either straight or broke so widely that almost anyone could have batted home runs galore off him. and pete, who saw the point, swung wildly at every one of them, hitting them easily. "that's a fine joke," said pete. "they won't find out very much about what you can do as a pitcher from that--that's a sure thing! if lawrence thinks that's the best thing you can do when you get in the box i'm afraid he'll get an awful jolt tomorrow." "i hope so, pete. the sneak--you were quite right. if he'd come right out to me and told me he wanted to watch me pitch, i wouldn't have minded. but that's a mean trick!" "it won't do him much good, that's one good thing. say, i don't believe he's as good himself as they make out, or he wouldn't have played such a trick. i bet he's got a big yellow streak in him." "we'll find that out tomorrow, pete. i hope not, because he certainly knows how to pitch. if he does a thing like that, though, he'd be apt to try to cheat in the game, or do something like that, i'm afraid. i don't care, though. if he wants to win in any such fashion as that, he's welcome to the victory. he must want to win worse than i do." "i didn't think harry norman would play a dirty trick on you after the way you saved his life, jack. i was surprised to see him there." "he doesn't like me. i've always been willing to be friendly with him, even when i had to fight him up at woodleigh. he forced me into that." "he isn't a scout, is he?" "no, he doesn't like the scouts. i guess he'll never join, either." "he's no great loss, i guess. we can get along better without him than with him if he's going to do things like that. i bet lawrence won't join either, when this game's over." chapter iv the double header pete stubbs had wanted to tell everyone of the trick that lawrence had tried to play on jack, and of jack danby's clever way of turning the tables on him, but jack dissuaded him. "that won't do any good," he said. "after all, he may not have meant to do anything wrong, and we'd better give him the benefit of the doubt." "aw, sure he meant to be mean, jack! i ain't got no use for him. if we told the others he'd get a ragging he wouldn't forget in a hurry, i'll bet." "i guess you can stand it if i can, pete. keep quiet about it, because i want you to." "all right, jack, if you want me to, i will. say, there's one thing i hadn't thought of. if he takes all that trouble to find out how you pitch, he must be afraid of you!" "i hope he is, pete. that's half the battle, you know, making the other fellow think you're better than he is, whether you are or not--and thinking so yourself. often it makes it come out right." full grown men would have been appalled by the program that had been mapped out for the boy scout field day. baseball filled the morning and early afternoon. there were to be three games in all. first the crows were to play the whip-poor-wills. then the whip-poor-wills were to play the raccoons, and finally the crows and raccoons were to meet. there was to be an hour of rest for the baseball players between the games, and during that time there were to be running races and jumping contests, and also a race for small sailing boats on the lake, with crews from the three patrols for three catboats. durland owned one, dick crawford another, and the third, the one to be used by the crows, was lent by mr. simms, the president of the company that employed jack danby and pete stubbs. the first event of all on the program was the baseball game between crows and whip-poor-wills. the whip-poor-wills, or the willies, as they were called for short, by the rooters, were not as strong as the crows and the raccoons, and were expected to lose both their games, leaving the championship to be fought out between the crows arid the raccoons in the afternoon. bob hart, captain of the crows, came up to jack danby in the early morning at the campfire. "we'll let tom binns pitch the first game, jack," he said, "and save you for the raccoons. they're saving lawrence, too, and he'll pitch against you. so you want to be fresh and ready for him. you play left field. that'll give you some exercise, and won't tire your arm out." "i think i could pitch the two games, if you wanted me to," said jack, "but i'll be glad to see tom get a chance to pitch. he's a good pitcher, and he ought to beat them easily." so the teams lined up with jack in left field, and the game began. "gee," said pete, in the fourth inning, as he and jack waited their turn to bat, "we can't seem to hit their pitcher at all. tom's pitching an elegant game, but i thought we'd have eight or nine runs by this time, and the score's really two to one in their favor." "there's plenty of time to begin hitting later, pete. no need to worry about that yet. there's nine innings in a ball game, and a run in the ninth counts for just as much as one we make now." pete stubbs made a home run and tied the score in the sixth inning, and after that, until the ninth there was no more scoring. the despised willies were playing better than they knew how, as pete stubbs said, and the raccoons, who stood around to watch the game, began to look anxious, for they had expected to see the crows walk away with the game. but in the ninth inning there was quite a break in the game. bob hart, who batted first, led off with a screaming two bagger, and went to third, when tom binns was thrown out. pete stubbs batted next, and was so anxious to make a hit that he popped up a little fly to the first baseman. but jack danby, with a rousing drive to center field, put his team ahead, for he ran so fast that he beat the throw to the plate, and made a home run, as pete had done before him. "that's great, jack!" cried tom binns. "gee, i thought we'd never get a lead on them! they can't hit much, but they've certainly got a good pitcher." jack trotted contentedly out to his position for the last half of the ninth inning. the crows seemed certain to win now, because tom binns' pitching had been getting better every inning, and in the last two times they had been at bat the whip-poor-wills hadn't been able to get a man to first base, much less get anywhere near making a run. the first man up now made a little tap, and the ball rolled toward the third baseman, who muffed it. the next got a base on balls, and the third was hit. the whole game was changed in a second. tom binns seemed to be rattled. try as he would, he couldn't get the ball over the plate, despite bob hart's efforts to steady him, and in a moment he passed the fourth batter, forcing in a run, and leaving the whip-poor-wills only one run behind, with the bases full and none out. two or three of the crow fielders looked anxiously at jack, and pete stubbs called from his position at shortstop. "i say, bob," he cried, "better change pitchers. tom's wild and can't see the plate." jack himself was more than anxious. he felt desperately sorry for poor little tom binns, who had been tremendously proud of being chosen to pitch for his team, and he was afraid, as were the others, that the sudden rally was more than tom could check. "he's going to leave him in," cried the center fielder to jack as hart shook his head at pete's suggestion that he take tom out of the box. and tom began pitching again to the fifth whip-poor-will who stood at the plate brandishing his bat. jack danby knew a lot about baseball that was planted in him by sheer instinct. and now he did something that was against orders and entirely different from what any other amateur outfielder would have thought of doing. it smacked more of big league baseball, where thinking is quick. he crept in, inch by inch, almost, while tom binns pitched two balls and a strike, until he was not more than thirty feet behind the third baseman. "if they hit a long fly one run will come in," he reasoned to himself. "a good single, even, will score two runs and win the game. the only chance is to make a double play. that's why the infielders are all drawn in close, so that they can throw to the plate. and that batter will try his hardest to push the ball over their heads." "crack!" the sound of the bat meeting the ball fairly came to him, and in a moment he saw the sphere sailing for the outfield, and about to pass squarely over the place the shortstop had just left. it looked like a sure hit, and the base runners started at once with the ball. the center fielder, running in desperately, was too far out to have a chance to catch the ball. but suddenly there was a shout. jack danby, who had crept far in without being noticed, sprinted over, and, by a wonderful jumping dive, caught the ball. like a flash he threw it to third base, and the runner who had started thence for the plate was doubled easily. he had reached home, and there was no chance for him to turn back. the runner from second, too, had turned third base, and, as soon as the third baseman had stepped on his bag he turned and threw to second base, completing as pretty a triple play as was ever made, and winning the game for the crows. "that was a wonderful play, jack!" said scout-master durland, who served as umpire. "i never saw a better one, even in a big league game. you were out of position, but if you hadn't been, that ball would have fallen fair, and tom binns would have lost his game. really, though, you're the one that deserves the credit for winning it, for your batting put your team ahead, and your fielding kept the whip-poor-wills from nosing you out in the finish." the whip-poor-wills, disappointed by losing when victory seemed to be within their grasp after such a gallant up-hill fight, seemed to have shot their bolt. their pitcher had outdone himself against the hard hitters of the crows, in holding them down so well, and when, after an hour's rest, they lined up against the raccoons, it seemed that they were a different team. the raccoons simply toyed with them. they piled up runs in almost every inning, and won with ridiculous ease, by a score of twenty to three. harry norman, who had come out with his friend lawrence to watch the sport, came up to jack after the raccoons had given this impressive exhibition of their strength. "gee," he said, "you might as well forfeit this game, danby! you haven't got a chance against the raccoons, especially when homer lawrence begins pitching for them. look at the way they beat the whip-poor-wills, and the trouble you had with them. you only beat them four to three, and you wouldn't have done that if you hadn't made that lucky catch in the ninth inning." "that wasn't a lucky catch," protested pete stubbs. "jack knew that the ball might be hit that way, and he took a chance, because if the ball had been hit to his regular position it would have meant a run anyhow. that isn't luck--that's baseball strategy!" "there wasn't any luck about the twenty runs the raccoons made anyhow," said norman, with a sneer. "and i'll bet you five dollars they beat you. money talks--there you are!" "we can't afford to bet," said jack, quietly, while pete stubbs looked angry enough to cry, almost. "we only get small salaries, norman, and we have to use all the money we make to live on. we support ourselves, you know." "oh, i suppose that's right," said norman, contemptuously. like many other boys who are fortunate enough to have wealthy parents and to be relieved from the need of starting out when they are little more than children to earn their own way in the world, norman had an idea that he was, for that reason, superior to boys like jack and pete, when, as a matter of fact, it is just the other way around. "scouts don't bet, anyway," said dick crawford, who had overheard the conversation, and showed, by his manner, that he had little use for norman, of whom he had heard many things that were far from pleasant. "we don't want to win money from one another, and betting on friendly games leads to hard feelings and all sorts of trouble. it's a good thing to let alone. come on to lunch, now, fellows. it's all ready." the members of the crow patrol and two or three volunteers who were trying to prove that they were really qualified to be scouts, though they had to wait for vacancies before they could join, had prepared lunch while the second baseball game was being played. "guess i won't eat much today," said pete stubbs, sorrowfully. "i like eating, but if i eat too much i'm never able to play a good game of ball afterward." "satisfy your hunger, pete, and don't eat too much," advised jack. "then you'll be all right. the trouble with you is that when you get hold of something you like, you always feel that you have to eat all you can hold of it. don't starve yourself now--just eat a good meal, and stop before you get so full that you feel as if you couldn't eat another mouthful." "i guess he never gets enough to eat except when he's out this way," said harry norman, beneath his breath. jack danby heard him and was furious, but he restrained himself, although an attack on his friend angered him more than a similar remark aimed at himself would have done. "i don't want any more trouble with you, norman," he said very quietly, taking the rich boy aside. "but don't say that sort of thing around here. remember that you're a guest, and that pete is one of your hosts and helped to pay for the spread that you're going to enjoy." "mind your own business!" said norman, rudely. "i didn't say anything about you. i will if you don't look out--i'll tell them you haven't got any right to your name, and that you don't know who your father and mother were!" jack bit his lips and clenched his fists for a moment, but he controlled himself, and managed to let the insult pass by without giving norman the thrashing he deserved. after lunch, when the mess had been cleared away, the dishes had been washed and everything had been made neat and orderly, the championship game between the raccoons and the crows was called. there was quite a crowd out to see this game. boys from the neighborhood, attracted by the prowess of the rival pitchers, turned out in good numbers. many of lawrence's school friends were also on hand, and practically every boy employed in the office with pete and jack was on hand, ready to yell his head off for the success of the crows. the defeated whip-poor-wills were anxious for the crows to win, for the raccoons had taunted them unmercifully on the poor showing they had made in their second game, and they wanted to see the team that had beaten them so badly humiliated in its turn. so the crowd of crow rooters was a little the larger, and if jack danby could win this game, his victory was certain to be a popular one, at least. but few thought that he would have a chance against the clever and experienced lawrence. "i've got an idea that the best way to beat lawrence is to let him beat himself," said jack danby to bob hart before the game. "he knows how to pitch two good curves, and he's been striking out ten and twelve fellows in every game he played just because they've swiped at those curve balls." "that's just what i'm afraid our fellows will do," said bob. "that's what's been worrying me." "well," said jack, "about every one of those curves breaks outside the plate. that is, if the batter didn't swing at them, the umpire would have to call them balls. just watch him in practice and you'll see what i mean. why not wait him out and make him pitch over the plate?" "say, that's a good idea, jack! i'll call the fellows together, and we'll see how that works. i think that's a good way to save the game--hanged if i don't!" and bob hart gave his orders accordingly. but it was harder to get the crows to do it than to tell them. time after time they struck at tempting balls, that looked as if they were going to split the plate, only to have them break away out of reach of the swinging bats. so, in the early stages of the game, lawrence looked just as formidable as he had in the school games in which his reputation had been made. bob hart himself, and jack, and pete stubbs, who could and would always obey orders, made him pitch to them, and, because they waited and refused to bite at his tempting curves, they put the star pitcher in the hole each time. he was a good pitcher as far as he went, but his equipment was not as large as it should have been. he knew how to pitch a few balls very well, but if they failed him, he was in trouble. he had nothing but his wide curves--no straight, fast ball with a jump, no drop, no change of pace. the first time jack danby came up, in the second inning, he let the first three balls that lawrence pitched go by, and durland called every one a ball. then, when lawrence had to put his ball straight over or give him a pass, jack smashed it to right for two bases. but he was left on second, for the two who followed him were over anxious, and were victims on strikes. but jack himself was pitching high class ball. he didn't try to strike out every man who faced him, but made it next to impossible for the raccoons to make long hits off him, and he did have some fun with lawrence, striking him out three times in the first six innings. in the seventh inning bob hart waited and got a base on balls. by that time the crows had begun to understand, and they waited now while lawrence's best curves went to waste, never offering to hit at any ball that didn't come straight for the plate. three passes in quick succession filled the bases, and then jack danby was up again. lawrence was no poor player. he had a head as well as a good pitching arm, and he set a trap for jack. his first three balls were curves--and called balls. jack waited. twice before, in the same situation, lawrence had had to pitch him a ball he could hit and he had swung at it. and now lawrence expected him to do the same thing, and sent up a floater that looked good for a home run. but jack only smiled, and the ball broke away from the plate. it was the fourth ball, and it forced in the first run of the game. moreover, lawrence, fooled and outguessed, went up in the air, and the crows made six runs in that one inning, and five more for good measure in the eighth, while jack shut out the raccoons. the crows, thanks to jack, also won in the races and jumping contests, so it was a great day for them. chapter v tom binns' bad luck jack danby and tom binns, second class scouts, were ready now to become first class scouts, and so to earn the right to wear the full scout badge, and compete for all the medals and special badges of merit for which scouts are eligible. they had passed all the tests save one. they had proved their efficiency in signaling, in scout and camp craft, in the tying of knots, had given evidence of their ability to save those who were drowning and give first aid to the injured, and they had only to make a hike of seven miles, alone or together, to receive the coveted promotion. they determined, with scout-master durland's permission, to make this hike together the saturday afternoon following the field day that had brought so much glory to jack danby and his patrol, the crows. although tom binns had been a scout longer than jack, jack had been a tenderfoot scout for only thirty days, the shortest time in which a scout can pass out of the tenderfoot class, and he was fully as good a scout now as many of the older ones who had had the right to wear the first class scout's badge for a long time. "gee, jack, i wonder if we'll ever get to be patrol leaders and scout-masters?" asked tom binns, as they met after work that saturday, and prepared to start on their hike. "why not, tom? everyone has to make a start. and mr. durland wasn't a scout when he was our age, because there weren't any boy scouts then." "i suppose it's a lot of responsibility, but then that's a good thing, too." "you bet it is! that's one of the things i like best about being a scout. it teaches you to be responsible, and to understand that you've got to do things just because you are responsible for seeing that they're done, and not just because someone keeps standing over you and telling you what to do." "where shall we go, jack?" "the camp for the troop hike today is out at beaver dam. i thought we might start from the other side of the lake there, go to haskell crossing, and get back to camp in time for supper. then we could get our badges from mr. durland, i guess." "that's a fine idea, jack. i don't know that country very well, though. do you?" "no. that's one reason for going that way. we know that we'll find a place where we can make a fire and cook our supper, though. we don't need to eat it unless we're particularly hungry, but we've got to cook it." "say, jack, if fellows make that hike alone, who's going to tell whether they really did it or not? if a fellow wasn't straight, he could go off somewhere; and then report that he'd hiked the fourteen miles, and there wouldn't be anyone to prove that he hadn't." "i know, but we're all on our honor, pete, and a chap who had got to be a second glass scout wouldn't ever play a trick like that. it wouldn't pay." "i guess that's true, too, jack. that's another fine thing about being a scout. when you see a fellow give you the scout sign in a strange place, you know he's all right, just because he is a scout, even if you never saw him before." "yes. that's why we've all got to be so careful to keep up the honor of the scouts, and not do anything ourselves, nor let any other scout do anything that would give outsiders a chance to say that we preached one thing and did another." they took the trolley to their starting point, on the side of lake whitney away from beaver dam, where their fellow scouts were to gather later in the afternoon for a practice camp, such as durland and crawford arranged for nearly every half holiday. "how will we know when we've gone seven miles?" asked tom. "it's just about seven miles--perhaps a little more--to haskell crossing, so we can tell without any trouble. that's one reason i picked out the place. the trail through these woods is pretty rough, but we can follow it all right." "whose land is this, jack?" "no one knows, exactly. it's a sort of a no man's land. or, at least, two sets of heirs to an old estate are fighting about it in the courts. they've been trying for years to get it settled between them, but the courts haven't decided yet, and they may not for a long time." "and meantime no one can use it?" "that's it. it seems silly, doesn't it? if the courts take so long to decide it must mean, i should think, that both sides were partly right, and i should think they'd want to settle it between themselves, and so each get some use out of the land. there's an old house, more than a hundred and fifty years old, in the woods, too." "doesn't anyone live in it?" "no one now. tramps go there sometimes, i've heard, because it is so lonely. some people say it's haunted, but i guess the tramps played ghost, just so that people would stay away and let them alone." "gee, if there's a ghost around, i hope he stays in when we're passing. i'm afraid of them!" "why, how could a ghost hurt you, tom? anyhow, you don't need to worry about ghosts in the daytime. they only come out at night." "it's pretty dark in here, jack. the woods are mighty thick." "i believe you _are_ scared, tom," said jack, laughing. "well, don't you worry! i'm pretty sure that if anyone ever did see a real thing here that he thought was a ghost it was a tramp in disguise. and i don't believe you're afraid of a tramp--though i'd rather meet a ghost, myself, than a vicious tramp." "gee, that railroad train's whistle sounds good," said tom, a few minutes later. "that must be at the crossing." "yes. it isn't much further now. and the house is near the crossing, too. i believe the people who lived in it made a great fuss when the railroad went through, and that was about the time when the quarrel started. they said it would spoil their property to have the station so near them--instead of which, if they could only see it, it's made it a whole lot more valuable." suddenly tom, who was walking as fast as he could and was ahead of jack, stumbled and fell against a root. when jack got beside him he was white with pain. "i guess i must have twisted my foot pretty badly," he said. "i don't believe i can stand on it for a while." he put a hand on jack's shoulder and tried to walk, but found the pain too great. "here, let me see it," cried jack. "i may be able to do something to make it better." tenderly he removed tom's shoe, and turning the stocking back from the injured ankle, rubbed and examined it thoroughly. "i may hurt you when i rub it around, tom," he said, "but it won't hurt your ankle for more than a minute." for two or three minutes, while tom, with set teeth, endured the pain without even a whimper, jack rubbed and massaged the ankle, already slightly swollen. "it's just a strain, i think, tom," he said. "i'll find a spring or a brook, if they're not all dried up around here, and make a cold compress for it. next to blazing hot water, that's the best thing to do for it, and i think you'll be able to get to haskell crossing pretty soon, with a little help from me. then we can get a train or a trolley back." "gee, i never thought, jack! you can't do that! if you go back with me, you won't be able to get your first class scout badge." "what of it, tom? i guess i can wait a week or two for that without suffering very much. and you didn't think i'd leave you alone here, or to go home alone, did you? you can't walk back on that foot--that's one sure thing." tom protested that all jack should do was to get him to the station, whence he said he could manage to get home all right, but jack wouldn't hear of such an idea, and, after he had put the cold water bandage on tom's ankle, he helped his comrade the short distance that remained to the track, and the little flag station at haskell crossing. the sun was low on the horizon when they got there. in the little shanty that served as a station, loafing and wishing for something to do, was a red-headed, gawky youth whose business it was to set signals and listen at a telegraph key for the orders that went flashing up and down the line. "there's no train back to town for four hours," he told them, when they asked how soon they could get a train. "one went a few minutes ago--you must have heard it whistle. hurt, there, sonny?" "twisted my ankle a bit," said tom binns, with a plucky smile. "sho, that's too bad," said the red-headed one. "here, come into the station and set down! there's a place in the freight daypo where you can be more comfortable like." the shanty was divided into two parts. one was for the sale of tickets, though jack guessed that there were few purchasers, the other held a few empty milk cans, which showed pretty well what made up the bulk of the freight handled there. but there was a pile of sacks in one corner, also, and on those, arranged and spread out like a bed, tom was made fairly comfortable. rest was what his ankle needed, and he could rest there as well as anywhere else. "i ain't got but a little lunch here," said the red-headed telegrapher, station agent and baggage man rolled into one, regretfully. "but you're welcome to share it with me." "no need of that, thanks," said jack, heartily. "we were going to cook our supper in the woods, and if you'll show me a place where i can build a fire, i'll cook it now. we've got plenty for you, too, and i'll give you some bacon and eggs and coffee if you like them." "say, you're all right! my name's hank hudson, and if there's anything i sure do hanker after, it's bacon and eggs. i can't get a hot supper on this job--i have to tote everything along with me from home, and it's all cold victuals i get." "well, we'll have a treat for you tonight, then, and i'm glad we will. it's mighty nice of you to let tom binns lie in the depot." jack was as good as his word. hudson showed him a place where a natural fireplace, as it seemed, was all ready and waiting for the fire to be made, and jack, in a comparatively short time, sent up a fragrant odor of frying bacon and eggs, and of rich, steaming coffee that would have given a wooden indian an appetite. he carried the meal to the station, too, and the three of them ate it together, while hudson's cold lunch, despised now, and not to be compared with the fine fare jack provided, was cast aside in a corner of the station. "do many trains pass here that don't stop?" asked tom. "sure they do!" said hudson. "this last hour is about the quietest one of the whole day. i have to watch them all, too, and report when they pass here, so that the despatchers can keep track of them." "what would happen if you didn't?" "can't tell! but there might easily be a bad wreck. if the despatcher thought he would get a flash from here as soon as the thunderbolt passed, for instance, and i was asleep when she went by, he might let something into the track ahead of her, and then there'd be a fine lot of trouble. you can see that!" "i should say so! you've a pretty responsible place here, i should think. do you like it?" "sure! i think the work's great! i'd rather work on a railroad than anything i can think of. but it gets awful lonely here sometimes. that's the worst part of it. the work's easy enough, but it's not having anyone to talk to, except the fellows and the girls on the wire, that makes it a hard job." "you talk to all of them, i guess, don't you?" "sure." hudson walked over to the telegraph instrument by the window and threw his switch. "there's a girl at beaver dam calls me about this time every evening. things are slack, you know. they send her in a hot supper from the restaurant there, and she calls every evening and tells me what she had and how good it was, so that i'll be jealous. i'll have something to surprise her with tonight though--hullo! there she is now!" both boys knew the morse code, from their signal work with the boy scouts, and jack, indeed, had experimented a little with wireless, so that he could read the code of dots and dashes, if it was not sent too fast. "h-k--h-k--h-k--" he heard now, and, in a minute more, he was trying to interpret the swift interchange of chaffing messages between the two operators. "that's the only break in the loneliness," said hudson, "unless someone comes in for a visit the way you have. i wish there were more of them--except for those tramps back there in the woods. they hang around a lot, and they get my goat!" "in the big house in the woods there, you mean?" asked jack. "the one they say is haunted?" hudson laughed. "that's the one. they say it's haunted, but it's willies and tired toms that haunt it, believe me! they come over here and look up the place, and they'd have stolen everything in it long ago if there'd been anything to steal. they let me alone because they're pretty sure i haven't got any money, and they know i've got a gun, too." chapter vi the attack on the station "what time does the thunderbolt go through?" asked jack. "eight thirty-four she's due, but she's sometimes a few minutes late. then, at eight forty-two there's the second section of the thunderbolt, when there's one running--and there is to-night, and your train for town gets in here at eight fifty-seven." "what's the next station below this?" "conway. that's about eleven miles down the line, and away from the city. 'tisn't much more of a station than this. just an operator who doubles up on all the other jobs same way i do." "i've got to go wash dishes and make up our packs," said jack. "it's eight o'clock now, and that doesn't leave so very much more time than we need. i've got to put out the fire, too." he went off with the dishes on which they had eaten their simple but delicious supper, and left hank hudson to talk to tom binns and watch his key, which might at any moment click out some important order that would make the difference between safety and disaster for a train laden with passengers. the fire on which he had cooked their supper was still glowing in the woods about a hundred yards from the railway tracks, and he hurried toward it to extinguish it, in accordance with the strictest of all scout rules for camping. fires left carelessly burning after a picnic have caused many a terrible and disastrous forest fire, and it is the duty of every scout to make sure that he gives no chance for such a result to follow any encampment in which he has had a part. as he made his way toward the fire he thought once or twice that he heard the sounds of a man or an animal moving through the woods, and once, too, he thought he heard a hoarse and raucous laugh. but he decided, after stopping to listen once or twice, that he had been mistaken, and he laughed at himself when he was startled as he got near the dancing shadows east by the dying fire, by what looked like the shadows of three men. there was no danger in the fire he had built as long as the wind held steady, and he might have left it to burn itself out with little fear of any adverse happening as a result. but that was not thorough, nor was it the way of a scout. a wind may shift at any moment, and a fire that is perfectly safe with a northwest wind may be the means of starting a conflagration no one can hope to check if the wind shifts even a point or two. so jack put his fire out thoroughly, and made certain that no live embers remained to start it up anew. then he washed his dishes, and made his way back toward hank hudson's cabin. inside the cabin, as he approached, he could hear slight sounds, and then, insistent, compelling, the clatter of the telegraph key. he stopped to listen a moment to its clicking, and then found, to his surprise, that it was "h-k," the call for haskell crossing, that was sounding. "why doesn't hudson answer?" he asked himself. still the call sounded. there was a continued noise within the station--someone was there, and it must, surely, be hudson. he could not fail to hear the chatter of his sounder, and yet he was ignoring the steady call from his instrument--a call more than likely to be of the last importance. jack, sure now that something must be wrong, did not rush hastily and impulsively for the door of the cabin. instead, he crept up quietly toward the side, where there was a window, that would give him a chance to look in without being seen himself. and, when he got there, he saw what was wrong. hudson, his face livid, a red handkerchief stuffed into his mouth, was tied in a chair, his arms, legs and body being securely tied up, so that there was no chance for him to work himself free. he could hear what went on, but he could do nothing, and there was no chance for him to reach that key and answer the insistent urging of the wire, though jack could see, from the look in his eyes, that he knew an attempt was being made to raise his office. "they'll think he's deserted his key," said jack to himself. "that's what's worrying him." apparently hudson was alone in the station, and jack was just on the point of rushing in to free the operator when the door into the freight station opened, and three burly men, dressed like tramps, appeared, dragging poor little tom binns with them, despite his twisted ankle. tom was trying to cry out and give the alarm, as jack could see, but in vain, for one of the ruffians had his hand over his mouth, and there was no chance for tom's cries to be heard. jack, horror struck, but, knowing that aid was far away, watched the scene that followed with distended eyes. he was powerless against three such men as the tramps that had attacked hudson and tom binns, and the nearest station, as he knew, was eleven miles distant. but he felt that he must try to find out, at least, what the attack meant. hudson, as the assailants must know, had no money to make such an attack worth while, and, even if they could blow or otherwise open the little safe it was unlikely that more than a few dollars would be there--a poor reward for such a desperate business. suddenly, however, a thought came to him that terrified him a thousand times more than what he had already seen. "the key!" he thought, almost shouting the words aloud and betraying himself in his excitement. that was it! these men were train robbers--or, worse, possibly, train wreckers. they would endanger every life on the onrushing thunderbolt to gain their ends. that was why they had put hank hudson out of business, why they were guarding tom binns with such care, crippled as he seemed to be. men in their desperate business could take no chances. it was all or nothing for them--success, and the chance to rifle the registered mail and the valuable express pouches, or failure and death on the gallows or a life in prison. for a moment jack had the impulse to seek safety in flight. if they caught him spying on them they were likely to have little mercy for him, and well he knew it. but the impulse lasted scarcely a second. "i guess if i'm ever to make good as a scout, this is one of my chances," he said to himself, grimly. "i'm going to stay right by this window and try to hear what they say to one another. they may give away their plans and give me some sort of a chance to foil them." jack was frightened, and he was brave enough to admit that to himself. even the river pirates that he and pete stubbs had helped to thwart when they tried to steal the fittings from mr. simms' yacht were mild mannered criminals compared to these. each of them wore a black mask that hid his eyes and the upper part of his face, but jack, trying desperately to discover something that would enable him to identify them should he ever have the chance, picked out lines about the lower parts of their faces that would, he thought, make it impossible for him to mistake them should he ever have the chance to see them again. one had a prominent, undershot jaw. another bore a furrow across his chin, the mark of a bullet, as jack guessed, that was white against the stubble of his beard. and another had lost part of his right ear, which was not hidden by his mask. "i'm really more certain of knowing them again now than if they hadn't worn those masks," said jack, to himself. "the masks made me look more attentively at the part of each one's face that i could see." "hey, tom," said one of the men, gruffly, looking at his watch, "got them tied? i thought there was another one of the young rips." "if there was, he ain't a comin' back here, or he'd have been here long ago," said tom, scowling fiercely at his two captives. "what's the time, bo?" "time enough. she ain't due for ten or twelve minutes yet, even if she's on time. wish't i could tell what that key was saying." "don't make no difference. it'll be saying a lot more when we get through tonight," said the other. all the time the monotonous calling of the key had kept up--"h-k--h-k." now suddenly there was a change. "b-d--b-d--" clicked the instrument, and jack knew that the sender had given up haskell crossing and was trying now to raise beaver dam, the next station up toward the city. beaver dam answered at once, and jack listened intently to the wire conversation that followed and was sounded by hudson's open key. "hello, b-d," it called. "what's the matter with hudson? i've been trying to raise him for half an hour." "i heard you. he must be asleep or sick--sick most likely." "that's what i thought. there's a hand car with another operator ordered down. but it'll have to run behind the thunderbolt. she's an hour late and trying to make up time." "that's bad! it'll tie up the whole line." "so long!" "so long! i'll pass on word." jack's heart leaped within him. the train the robbers were waiting for was an hour late. all sorts of things might happen in an hour. he could only wait. but there was more chance now, at least. the robbers waited patiently until the limited was twenty minutes overdue. then they began to get nervous. "sure the tie will throw her off the rails?" asked one. "go out and see for yourself if you're nervous." and the first speaker followed the suggestion. the others fidgeted about for a few minutes. "let's get out, then," said one of those who remained. "those kids are tied up safe enough. no need to stay here. let's get some fresh air and look to see if she's coming." and in a moment the station was empty, save for the two prisoners. jack acted on the instant. in a second he was at the key, pounding away, and calling b-d, b-d, in frantic efforts to get an answer and have the limited stopped and help rushed. "o-k--" came the answer at last, and in a frenzied rush, but with the hand of an inexperienced operator, jack sent the story over the wire. he had won! he was in time, he was sure. the train had not yet passed the last telegraph station before haskell crossing, and it would be stopped before it could rush on to destruction. then, swiftly, he rushed over to the chair in which hudson was strapped, and quickly cut the ropes that held the operator. as quickly he snatched the gag from his mouth. "gee, that was great!" cried hudson. "i didn't know you knew how to handle a key. you did fine!" "i guess they got the message in time to stop the train. don't you think so?" "listen to it now." the key was clicking away furiously. the sounds were so fast that jack, who was only an amateur and a beginner as a telegrapher, after all, could not understand. "beaver dam's sending the word along the line," said hudson. "the warning's been acknowledged and the train will be held up. they're going to send help, too. i hope those fellows don't come back here too soon. if they'll hold off a few minutes we'll be all right, thanks to you." "haven't you got a gun, hank?" asked jack. "gee, what a fool i am! of course i have! a peach, too. they gave us new automatic revolvers--only they don't revolve--a few weeks ago. i'll get it." he was not a moment too soon. the steps of the train wreckers, as they returned, were heard outside, and in a moment jack disappeared again. "i'll be outside," he called to hudson, from the window. "pretend to be tied up still, and get them covered. then try to hold them in there with your pistol. don't shoot unless you have to, but remember that they're bad men, and don't hesitate to shoot if that's the only thing you can do." in another minute the three tramps were inside the little station again. hudson had thrown the ropes about his body again, and had stuffed the handkerchief in his mouth. they gave him a hasty glance. "there's something wrong, tom," said one of them, anxiously. "that train ought to have been here a good hour ago. wonder if that clicking key means that there's anything loose that we ought to know about. we ought to have had someone along that knows how to read that thing." "throw up your hands!" jack exulted as he heard hudson, in a firm, ringing voice, give the order. the operator had nerve--they would catch the robbers in the neatest sort of a trap. he slipped around to the door. there was a snarl of rage from one of the men, while the others stood in helpless surprise. the one who had cried out rushed at hudson, and a bullet whizzed by his ear. "stop!" cried hudson, savagely. "i'll shoot to hit you next time." "he's got us--better keep quiet," exclaimed another of the men, with a savage curse. "that's what we got for leaving them alone here." jack stepped into the station. "keep them covered, hank," he said. "you forgot me, too, you see," he said to the men. "now, keep your hands up and you won't get hurt. you won't need your pistols where you're going, so i'll just take them away from you now." he was as good as his word, searching them for their concealed weapons, and putting all three of the pistols that he found in a heap beside hudson. then he released tom binns, and in the same moment there was the sound of a distant whistle. a few minutes later an engineer drew up outside, drawing a single car, and from it a dozen armed men streamed into the station, sent post haste from beaver dam. "good work, indeed!" said one man, who was the chief of the railroad detective bureau, captain haskins, famed in a dozen states. "this is a fine haul. omaha pete, tom galway, and 'frisco sammy. glad to see you, boys! there are rewards of about eleven thousand dollars for the three of you. you'll be as welcome as the flowers that bloom in the spring when the police get hold of you." he was curious to know how the three boys, for hank hudson himself was little more than a boy, had effected such a capture, and he was unstinting in his praise when he heard the story. hudson insisted on giving jack danby most of the credit, but jack wouldn't have it that way. "you did the trick with your gun," he said. "i may have given you the chance and helped to save the train, but you were the one that caught them." "there's credit enough for both of you," said haskins, kindly. "and i'm here to see that you get what's coming to you, too, rewards and all. the road can afford to be grateful to a boy who saved the thunderbolt from being wrecked." chapter vii jack danby's peril tom binns was in no condition to go to the scout camp opposite beaver dam, and he was taken back to the city by one of the railway detectives. jack danby was going home with him, but tom wouldn't hear of it. "they'll be wondering why we didn't turn up after our hike, and maybe they'll think there's something wrong with us," he said. "you go on to the camp, jack, and explain. i'll be all right, sure, tomorrow." so jack, reluctantly enough, for he felt, in a way, that he was deserting his plucky little comrade, got off the train at beaver dam, and rowed across the lake to the twinkling fire that showed where the rest of the scouts were gathered. he was welcomed with a shout. "but where's tom binns?" cried pete stubbs finally, when they realized, suddenly, that the little fellow wasn't with them. then jack explained. he told of the accident that had turned out, in the end, to be so fortunate a happening, since, had it not been for tom's twisted ankle, they would never have reached the station, and the train might have been wrecked, with a terrible loss of life. "so we couldn't finish our hike tonight, of course," said jack. "we'll do it the next time, though. and a week or so doesn't make much difference." a tall, bearded man, with a slouch hat, was sitting with scout-master durland at the fire, and at jack's last words he turned to the scout-master with a smile. "i think you can afford to waive the strict letter of the rule this time, durland," he said. "these boys of yours have certainly proved their right to be regarded as first class scouts. i don't know that there's any special badge of merit or honor, except the one for lifesaving, that they are entitled to, but i shall make it my business to see that the scout council takes some action on the heroism of scout danby." then jack learned that the stranger was a member of the national scout council, one of the highest officers of the organization, and a man famous all over the world as a pioneer and a worker for the things that the boy scouts stand for. "you think that scout danby is entitled to his badge, then?" said durland, unsmiling, and, at the other's quick nod, he called jack up to the center of the group around the fire, and pinned the full scout badge, of which jack had thus far been wearing only the bar, to his breast. "you have earned this badge by close attention to duty, and by being always prepared," said the scout-master, while the scouts of the three patrols cheered the reward. "we are all proud of you, danby, and we know that you will never do anything to bring discredit upon your badge, nor do anything that is not strictly in accordance with the scout oath that you took when you were first enrolled as a tenderfoot scout." there was another burst of cheering at that, and all of the scouts who were present crowded up to shake hands with jack and congratulate him. dick crawford was one of the first, and gripped jack's hand heartily. "i guess you'll get a big reward out of the railroad," he said. "that's a splendid thing for you, jack. you can use it to go to college, if you want to. they ought to be generous." "the detective did say something about a reward, dick, but i'd forgotten all about it for the moment. it will be divided up among tom binns, hudson and myself, of course, if there is one. but i wasn't thinking about that." "i know you weren't, jack, but that's no reason why you shouldn't have it. it wouldn't be right to do a fine thing just because there was a reward, but that's no reason why you shouldn't take it. you helped to capture those fellows, and the chances are that they are well-known thieves, who are wanted for more than one crime." "the detective recognized them, i think, dick. he called them by name, and seemed to know all about them. i suppose men who would dare to try to do a thing like that must be old stagers. no man who was committing his first crime would try anything so fiendish as wrecking a train and taking the chance of killing a lot of innocent people, do you think?" "i should say not! and there wasn't any chance about it, either. if the train had been wrecked, going at sixty miles an hour or so, as it would have been, if it was late, and trying to make up lost time, there couldn't have been any result but a terrible wreck." "i wonder if there were only three of them?" said jack, thoughtfully. "i've been thinking since that there may have been others in the gang that weren't caught. there must have been someone to set the blockade for the train, and i don't believe those fellows we caught had time to do everything. they had to put hudson out of the way, you see, and keep him from using the telegraph to give warning. i've got an idea there was at least one other man in it, and maybe more than that, who didn't show up in the station at all." "well, if that's so, you'd better look out for yourself, jack, in case they try to get even with you for spoiling their little game. they'd be apt to try to take that out of you." "perhaps they won't know i had anything to do with it. and, anyhow, i'm not sure there was anyone else mixed up in it. that's only a guess anyhow." "i'd be careful, just the same. don't go around alone at night--though you'll be safe enough in the city, i guess, unless some of those people that were mixed up in that kidnapping case get after you." "they haven't anything more against me, or any more reason to be sore at me, than at anyone else that was concerned in the whole job, anyhow. but i'll keep my eyes open. i'll be glad to turn in pretty soon. i'm pretty tired." "i should think you would be. i am myself, and i haven't done as much as you." soon after that sentries were posted, and the scouts, wrapped in their blankets, were all asleep in their lean-tos. jack's sleeping partner, tom binns, was not there, so he slept alone, on the edge of the camp, and some distance from the campfire. tired as he was, he did not get to sleep at once. out on the lake puffing motor boats, running back and forth from the big summer hotel at the head of the lake to the cottages that were clustered near the dam, made the night noisy. those people were late risers and they went to bed late as well. there was a dance at the hotel, and it was well attended. so the sharp beat of the engines of the little boats disturbed those who were trying to sleep. jack was so tired, too, that it was hard for him to get to sleep. he kept thinking of everything that had happened at haskell crossing, and of the desperate minutes in which, while he knew the fate that was in store for the onrushing train, he had been powerless to prevent the catastrophe that threatened. and then suddenly, while he was half asleep and half awake, he remembered something that had escaped him before, something he had seen and that had been recorded in his brain, although it was only now that the picture stood out vividly and with meaning. there had been three men in the room with hank hudson and tom binns while he had waited at the window and spied upon them. and three men had returned, after he had seized the chance to give the warning that had saved the train. but they were not the same three. he remembered now, with a sudden flash of clear understanding that one of the three had been a stranger--that of the three who were caught, one was a man he had not seen before. he started up in his blanket. "then there _were_ four of them!" he cried, half aloud. "and one of them is free, and able to plan new deviltries. i wish they'd caught them all!" but even that thought, disturbing as it was, did not keep him awake much longer. as he lay there, his tired body resting with the very act of lying down, he grew gradually more drowsy, and he drifted off asleep at last with the humming of a power boat on the lake beating against his ears. he slept a long time. the camp was quiet. in the distance an owl hooted now and then, and until long after midnight the sounds of activity persisted on the lake. the moon had risen early, and was setting soon after midnight, so that it was very dark under the trees, though out on the lake, once the shadow of the trees around the shore was passed, the stars gave abundant light. and, because he was so tired, and trusted so entirely to the sentries, jack had no thought of watchfulness when he fell asleep, and slept more heavily than was usual with him when he was in camp with the scouts. the sentries were posted on all sides of the camp, as a rule, but no one had foreseen the need of any watch on the side of the camp nearest the lake. yet it was from that spot that danger came, in the end. it was two o'clock when a launch, with silenced engine, glided up to the beach near the camp, as silently as a rowboat might have done, and grated softly on the shelving beach. one man, slight and delicate in appearance, was at her wheel, and from the bow, as she touched bottom, another stepped out into the water and made his way cautiously, and in roundabout fashion, toward the sleepers. he was big, strong, and massive. his face was concealed, or nearly concealed, by a black mask that hid his eyes and his nose and he walked with the stealthy footsteps of one long used to avoiding detection as he moved about his business. he seemed to know what he was doing, and where to go, and one might have guessed that he had been spying on the camp, to learn the way in which the sleepers were disposed. he avoided the lean-tos near the fire, and, sneaking back and around through the woods, he approached jack danby's lean-to from behind. for a moment, silent and ominous in the darkness, he stood there, studying the situation, as it seemed, and making up his mind just how to accomplish his purpose. then, drawing a handkerchief from his pocket, he took the cork from a small bottle and poured its contents on the handkerchief. at once a strong, sickly, sweetish smell arose, unhealthy, and unpleasant, in contrast to the strong, fresh smells of the sleeping woods. holding this handkerchief in his hand, the newcomer, a savage grin of ugly satisfaction on his lips, approached jack danby, and, with a motion so swift as to be hardly visible, flung his hand, with the handkerchief flat on his palm, over jack danby's face. jack awoke at once and struggled for a second. but he could not cry out, and in a moment the handkerchief, soaked with chloroform, had done its work, and he lay unconscious. jack was entirely helpless, drugged as he was, and, with a triumphant leer, the man who had drugged him picked him up, and, moving as cautiously as ever, carried him to the motor boat. but he had underestimated the watchfulness of the scout sentries. at the sudden, sharp explosions of the engine as it was started, and the launch backed off the beach, there was a sudden cry from one of the watchers, and in a moment his shrill whistle aroused the camp, so that a dozen scouts, turning out hastily, saw the motor boat back out and turn, as if to race for the outlet at the foot of the lake, nearly ten miles away. for a moment all was confusion in the camp. awakened suddenly from a sound sleep, the scouts could not at first tell what had happened. the sentry who gave the alarm had seen only the one thing--the motor boat backing out from the beach. "it's nothing," said bob hart, sleepily. "someone mistook this for their own landing, and, when they found out their mistake, backed out and went for their own cottage." but dick crawford thought suddenly of jack danby. "jack!" he shouted. "jack danby!" there was no answer, and a swift rush to his lean-to proved that it was empty. durland and dick crawford ran there together, and durland recognized the smell of the chloroform at once. "there's been foul play here!" he cried, furiously. "someone has drugged jack and carried him away." he called for crawford then, but the assistant scout-master was already gone to the rescue. "get to the outlet as soon as you can!" he shouted, and they heard him breaking through the woods to the road that was near by. "i'm going there on my wheel!" dick had ridden to the camp on his motorcycle, and now they heard the sharp clatter of its engine as he started it. "if they're making for the outlet, he'll head them off," said durland. "hart, take your patrol and go up to the dam there, in case they went that way. the rest of you follow me. we'll take crawford's route, and see if we can't get there in time to help him. i'm afraid danby is in the gravest sort of danger." they followed him with a shout, half dressed as most of them were. jack danby didn't lack friends, at least, even if he did have powerful and determined enemies. chapter viii the rescue needless to say, it was some time after he was roughly thrown into the bottom of the motor boat before jack came to his senses. the chloroform had taken effect quickly, and the soaked handkerchief had not remained very long over his mouth and nostrils, or jack might have ended his career then and there. as it was, however, the rush of the cool night air as the swift motor boat sped along the quiet waters of the lake did a good deal to revive him, and it was, comparatively speaking, only a short time before he realized where he was--or, rather, realized that he had been snatched from his blanket, and was being carried off somewhere, probably by those who had anything but good-will toward him. his first impulse was to cry out, but he checked himself, for he realized that his best chance just then was to feign an ignorance of his surroundings that would throw his abductors off their guard. if he made them think that he was still senseless, he might find some way of escape opening before him, and he might, too, overhear something that he could turn to his own advantage. it was pitch dark in the bottom of the boat, and his eyes, moreover, were aching. his whole head throbbed as he came out of the effects of the deadly drug that had been used to make him helpless, and he decided that the first thing he should do was to give nature and the healing air a chance to restore him to his senses and some semblance of a better physical condition. he was in no state now to do anything to help himself, and he had no idea of whether or not any of his comrades had taken the alarm when he was carried off. he was senseless when the men who had caught him were making their escape, and he had no way of telling what had happened. he guessed, even before he saw the evil face of the man who sat up in the bow, stripped now of his black mask, and gloating over his success, that it was one of the trapped and disappointed train wreckers who now had him in his power, and he shivered a little at the thought of what his fate might be. a man who had planned such a fiendish crime was not likely to be anything but brutal in his treatment of one of those who had helped to foil him, and jack understood that perfectly well. if he had needed anything more to make him realize his position it was supplied in a moment. "i wonder if that young whelp's shammin', or if we really knocked him out with the dope?" asked the man who had worn the mask. and, by way of finding out, he lurched back, and kicked jack brutally in the ribs. jack expected the blow, and managed to relax so that no bones were broken by the kick, though he was sore for hours. moreover he fortified himself so that, although the pain of the kick was far from trifling, he did not cry out. satisfied, the man made his way to the bow. "dead to the world!" he said. "that's all right! we'll get him through the lock. that's better. i don't want to knock him on the head and throw him overboard here--his body would turn up too soon. once we're through the lock we can get down the river all right, and they'll never know what happened to him. i hope dick don't make any mistake about meeting us with the big boat. this is a tidy little craft, but she's not meant for deep water sailing." "how about the others?" asked the man at the wheel, in a nervous, timid tone that made jack grin. only one of his captors was formidable, anyhow, and that was something to be thankful for. "i don't care about the others," replied the other, with a vile oath. "they'll have to save themselves. and they'll be in jail for the next ten years, sure. more fools they for gettin' caught! an' it was only kids as did them up. if they'd taken my advice, it wouldn't never have happened." "you oughtn't to have stopped for this kid. it was too risky." "risk? my eye! ain't everythin' we do risky? an' it's the only chance the others have got, anyhow. he's the biggest witness against them. he saw their mugs--no one else did. they'll have trouble getting off, anyhow, even if he ain't there. but he'd finish them, sure. an' he cost me twenty thousand dollars with his infernal buttin' in, too. i ain't overlookin' a chance to get hunk with him, the little rip!" he was almost shouting in his rage. "easy there!" said the timid one, in a low tone. "we're getting near the lock. look out, or you'll have everyone on to us." "right, oh! i'll shut up. time enough to attend to him later, anyhow." the boat slowed down, now, and jack guessed that they were near the lock that formed the outlet of the lake into the river that ran through the city, the same river on which he had his exciting experience with the river pirates. late as it was, the lock was quickly opened at the insistent, shrill call of the power boat's whistle, and in a moment it was in the narrow channel that led from river to lake. it was jack's chance. here, where the banks were close on either side, if he could slip overboard, there was a chance to swim to the safety of the shore. he was still weak and dizzy from the effects of the drug, but he had an idea that if he could get into the water it would complete the work of reviving him, and he determined to make the effort. both of the men who made up the crew of the little craft were busy as they passed through the lock, and, thinking him unconscious, they paid no attention to him. silently he slipped to the side. and, a second later, he dropped overboard. silent as he was, he made a splash as he struck the water, and, at the sudden curse from the robber in front, and his quick leap around, jack determined on the boldest and the riskiest move he could have made. but it was also the safest. instead of striking out at once for the shore, he slipped around behind the motor boat, and clung to the stern as it swept along, clear of the propeller, but hidden by the shadow from the overhanging stern. at the same moment there was a sudden outburst of shouts from the shore, and where all had been silence and darkness lights sprang out and the forms of excited, running men and boys appeared. the headlight of an automobile was suddenly thrown on the scene, and jack, guessing who was there, called out that he was safe and in the water. "swim ashore, jack," shouted dick crawford's welcome voice, and a moment later, all fear of his captors gone now, jack was helped up the steep bank. "we got them in a trap," cried dick crawford. "i figured they'd have to come this way. they can't turn around, and the gate of the lock is closed against them at the river end. they're bottled in here, and they can't escape, no matter which way they turn." in the power boat the big man who had carried jack off was standing up now, cursing volubly, and trying to see what lay ahead of him. but it did not take him long to see and realize that all hope of escape in that direction was cut off. the boat had come to a full stop, and he looked about him in desperation, his mask on his face again. he held a revolver in his hand, but, for some reason, he did not fire. "careful, fellows!" cried dick crawford. "he's got a gun there, and you can't tell how soon he'll begin shooting." "not very soon, dick," said jack danby, with a laugh. "he left his gun within reach of me, thinking i was still senseless, and i took all the cartridges out. there was a box half full of cartridges and i dropped that overboard, too, so i guess his teeth are drawn unless one of them has another gun." "good work, jack! he'd find it hard to hit any of us, but it's good to think he can't even try, anyhow. you surely had your nerve with you to think of that." "i had to, dick. i was going to make a break for it here in the lock, anyhow, and i didn't want him to be able to take a shot at me from behind while i was trying to climb up to the shore. it would have been too easy for him to hit me, and from the way he talked there's nothing he'd like better than to use me as a target." suddenly the roar of the boat's engine broke put again. "what's he trying to do now?" shouted dick, racing for the opening of the lock. the gate that barred the boat was in place. but suddenly dick understood. the desperado in the launch intended to be true to his nature. he saw just one chance of escape in a thousand, and he meant to take it, perilous as it was. straight for the gate he drove the boat. the man at the wheel was crying out in piteous fear and the burly ruffian stepped back from the bow, crushed his friend to the deck of the boat with a brutal blow, and took the wheel himself. "they'll both be killed," cried dick. "he can't mean to drive against the gate." but that was just what was in the desperate robber's mind. he saw and weighed the chances that were against him, but he was ready to risk life itself for liberty, and, in that desperate moment even dick and jack, debased as they knew the man to be, could not but admire his daredevil courage. at top speed the launch crushed into the barrier. there was a terrific crash, and those, including durland, who stood on the gate, leaped back precipitately. for an instant the timbers shivered. then, with a crash, they gave way, and the launch hurled through and dropped to the surface of the river. there, for a moment, it spun around. but the boat was well built. it stood the shock, and the next second, swaying from side to side, it was dashing away, past the possibility of pursuit. jack was saved, but the villain had escaped--for the time at least. chapter ix a swimming party though jack danby, partly through his own courage and determination, and partly by reason of dick crawford's quick thinking, had escaped from the hands of the desperado who had so evidently determined to murder him, scout-master durland was anything but easy in his mind regarding his friend, as he was proud to call the young scout who had done so well whenever he had been put to the test. he did not want to alarm jack himself without cause, but to dick crawford he spoke without hesitation. "i'm worried about jack, dick," he said. "these villains are quite capable of making another attack on him, and that would never do." "i should say not, sir! he might not get off so lightly another time." "that's just what i'm afraid of. if they strike against him once more they are more than likely to realize that to have a chance against him, they must strike quickly. if that scoundrel had had the slightest idea that the alarm had been given, or that poor jack was conscious, i am afraid danby would have had very little chance of his life." "it makes me sick to think of what they might have done. that was what i was thinking of all along as i rode for the lock." "you made good time getting there, dick." "i felt as if i had to! i was helpless as long as they were out on the lake, where it was broad. even a boat would have been useless. if they had seen a boat making for them, they would have known at once that they were in danger, and would have either gotten rid of jack or made a desperate stand, with a good chance of beating off any attack. the lock was the only place to reach them--and that meant fast moving, or i would have been too late." "well, what i meant to say was that we ought, if it is at all possible, to take steps to see that jack does not again expose himself to any such risk. he is too valuable a scout to have him take chances that are not necessary." "especially since he doesn't seem to know what fear is. he never stops to think of the effect of anything he does upon himself. he goes ahead and trusts to luck, if he thinks that it is his duty to do anything, if there seems to be danger. so, when there is no need of his being in peril, it is only right to do all we can to guard him." "tom binns and pete stubbs are devoted to him, aren't they, dick?" "i think either one of them would go through fire or water for him if there was need." "well, then, suppose you get hold of them quietly, without letting jack learn anything about what you are planning, and have them keep a close watch on his movements. they can do it without arousing his suspicion, and, if he seems likely to do anything that would give these fellows a chance to get at him, we will interfere, if possible, and spoil their little plan." "that's the idea, sir! those two boys will be trustworthy, and they've got a lot of good horse sense, too." "this may prove a very important commission for the two of them, though i hope, of course, that we are afraid of a shadow, and that jack has nothing more to fear from these men." tom binns and pete stubbs were delighted when dick crawford told them what he wanted them to do. "gee, dick," said pete, "that makes us like a couple of sure enough detectives, don't it?" "yes--except that you're supposed to prevent anything crooked from being done, and not simply to find out how it was done afterward, and who did it. we don't want any work for detectives that jack danby is the centre of." "i understand," said tom binns. "pete and i are just to keep our eyes open, and if we think jack is running into any danger, we're to let you know, so that you can help to keep him out of it." "i think there's more than one person would like to see jack out of the way," said pete stubbs, thoughtfully. "you know, he's told me something lately about this queer business of his name. it looks mighty funny to me. there are people, he says, who know who his father and mother were, and who are mighty angry and sorry that he's left woodleigh and dropped out of their sight." "is that so, pete?" asked dick, surprised, since he had heard nothing of all this. "yes, indeed! there was a man who has been up at woodleigh, trying to find out exactly where jack had gone, and what he was doing. jack seemed to think that this man was satisfied to have him up at woodleigh, where people wouldn't see much of him and weren't likely to be curious about who he was." "and where anyone who wanted to could keep tabs on him pretty well, eh? that's easier to do in a little country place like that, where everyone knows the business of everyone else, than it would be in a big city like this, isn't it?" dick was very thoughtful. "i've heard funny stories about jack danby and his name," he went on. "in fact, jack's told me himself that danby really isn't his name at all, and that he has no idea of what his real name is. as he gets older, naturally, it means a great deal to him that he isn't like all the rest of us, and doesn't know all about himself. it doesn't make any difference to his real friends, but it bothers him, naturally. i think we'll have to see if we can't help him solve that mystery, don't you?" "i'd give anything if i could make jack happy by telling him all about himself!" cried little tom binns, full of love and loyalty for the friend who had always done so much for him. "well, we'll see," said dick. "meantime, if jack has the best name in the world, it wouldn't do him much good if it had to be carved on a tombstone before he's had a chance to use it at all, and if that fellow that carried him off from our camp ever gets another chance at him, that's what he'll be needing." it wasn't like dick crawford to be alarmed by anything as a rule, and the two scouts were mightily impressed by his solemn tone and the warning he gave, as he meant them to be. he didn't want them to go into the work of guarding jack as if he were simply a figure in a new and fascinating game. he wanted them to take the task very seriously, and give their best efforts to it. and, after such a speech, he had no doubt that they would carry out his intentions, and that if there were any way of making jack safe from future attacks they would find it. jack himself suffered no ill effects worth mentioning from his rough experience, unpleasant as it had been. "gee, jack," said pete stubbs, when he saw his chum the morning after his rescue, "one would think, just to look at you, that you liked having a chap chloroform you and kick you around a little bit of a boat. you look great!" "i had a good night's sleep, pete. that's why. look at the time--it's the middle of the afternoon, isn't it? i felt a lot more tired the day after that baseball double header than i do right now. they didn't really hurt me, you see. and that swim in the cold water was just what i needed to make me feel fine after it, too. that chased the headache the drug gave me, and set me up in fine shape." "i tell you why, jack. it's because you always take a lot of exercise and look after yourself all the time, that things like that don't upset you." "say, pete, tom binns is coming around here again, later. i feel so good that i think i'd like to go and do something this afternoon. what do you say? i think it would be fine to go down to the lake and have a great old swim. summer don't last so long that i want to miss any of the swimming while it's as good as it is now." "i'll go you!" said pete, never thinking that it might be just such expeditions that dick crawford was afraid of. "say, wouldn't it be fine to live in a place where you can go swimming all the year round, like florida, or california, or some place like that?" "i don't know that it would, pete. i think all the seasons are good, in their own time. you wouldn't like never to see the snow, or to be in a place where it never froze and made ice for skating, would you?" "say, jack, i never thought of that! that's a funny thing about you. you never go off the way the rest of us do, without thinking about things. you think of all sides of anything. i wish i was like that. i wouldn't make so many fool breaks!" "old dan used to catch me up every time i said anything in a hurry," explained jack, with a smile. "i guess that's the reason i'm that way, if i really am, pete. it isn't that i'm any more likely to think of things than you, but that i've been trained that way. whenever i said anything reckless, or quick, old dan used to ask me why i said it, and make me try to prove it. so i got to thinking about everything i said before i let myself say it, and i've sort of kept up the habit." "i'm going to try to be like that, too, jack. i think it's a good way to be." "well, here's tom binns! want to go swimming with us, tom?" "you bet i do, jack! sure you feel well enough, though? you don't want to take any chances on being sick after what you were up against last night, you know." "no. i'll be all right. come on." so they went off. the day was warm, but overcast, and there was a threat of a thunderstorm in the sultriness of it. but they cared little for that. "if we're going to get wet," said pete, "we might as well do it comfortably. we won't be any wetter for a thunderstorm than if the sun were shining if we're in swimming." they changed their clothes in a little hut at the camping place, and went in from the little sandy beach there, the presence of which was one of the reasons the scouts had favored it for a camping ground. they had not been in the water very long before great drops of water, began to fall, and then, with a howling of wind, the threatened storm came down. they laughed and enjoyed the novelty of being in the water in such weather, since they were in a sheltered cove. presently the wind died down and furious thunder and lightning came to take its place, but that didn't bother them, either. it was not until, after a vivid flash and an immediate roar of thunder, cries of distress came from the lake, that they were aroused. they looked out, and saw a burning launch. "gee," cried pete stubbs, his face white, "the lightning must have fired their gasolene tank! let's get out there and see if we can't help." at once they swam to the rescue. chapter x the burning launch the launch fortunately was not very far out. had it been more than a hundred feet or so from shore no one could have done much for the unfortunate party on board, since beyond the shelter of the cove the lake was like a stormy sea, with white-capped waves defying swimmers, and giving even the stoutest of the craft that had been caught in the squall all they could do to make headway against the wind. the three scouts, swimming strong and fast, saw as soon as they were within plain sight of the launch that she was doomed. the fire had spread with a rapidity that would have been astonishing had it been anything but gasolene that supplied fuel for the flames over the after portion of the boat, where the tank had been. up in the bow, huddled together, and shrieking for help, were two men and two women. they seemed to be terrified, and none of them had thought to seek safety by dropping overboard. they seemed, indeed, to prefer to stay and wait for the fire to reach them, which it threatened to do at any moment. it was no time to waste breath on words, but jack, who had taken command of the situation, as he always seemed to do, held his head well out of the water to see what lay in front of them and then turned to his companions. "they can't swim," he said. "we'll have to make them jump overboard, though, and take a chance in the water. then, if they don't get troublesome, we'll probably be able to keep them up until help comes. you know how to choke them if they try to drag you down. and don't hesitate, even if it's a woman. it's better to be rough with them than to let them drown." even in the water the heat from the blazing launch was terrific as the three scouts approached the burning boat. for those on board it was even worse. the flames were almost touching them as jack and the others got within a boat length of the burning boat, and jack cupped his hands and shouted through them, so that those on board could hear him above the roar of the flames and their own cries of terror and distress. "jump into the water!" he cried. "don't struggle, and we'll be able to hold you up all right. but jump quick--it's your only chance!" one of the women--she was a girl, not more than twenty, jack thought--jumped at once. sparks had set her hair on fire, but the water put that out as soon as she was in it, and pete stubbs, who was nearest to her, swam to her at once, and supported her in the water. she was plucky, and made no attempt to interfere with him. he told her to put her hand on his shoulder and keep perfectly still, and she obeyed without question. "good work!" cried jack. "swim ashore with her, pete, and then come back here. we need all the help we can get if these others are scared to jump." but whether they were scared or not, the fire left them no choice after a moment more. one after another the three of them jumped. the two men, who were both fairly young, seemed to be plucky enough. they waited quietly enough for tom binns to swim to them, and, by treading water, he was able to let each one of them put a hand on his shoulder, so that they could keep their own heads out of water. he couldn't swim with them, but he could, at least, keep them from sinking until help came. that could not be very long, since the blazing launch was a signal of danger and the need of help for everyone who could see it. but jack's task was more difficult and dangerous by far, both for himself and for the woman he was trying to save. she had been mad with terror when she jumped, and, as soon as she felt jack's arm about her, after she had struck the water, she fastened both her arms about him convulsively, and began dragging him down with her. her strength was greater than jack's, since she was a big, powerful woman, and jack had no chance to break her hold on him by ordinary methods. "let go!" he cried. "i'll save you if you'll leave me alone and just put your hand on my shoulder. you'll drag us both down if you keep this up!" but she only shrieked the louder, when her lungs were not so full of water as to silence her, and jack felt his strength going, and knew, that in order to save either of them, he must be brutal. so, without a moment's hesitation he seized her hair, which had come down about her shoulders, and pulled until he wondered why it did not come out by the roots. she continued to shriek, but it was with pain now instead of fright, and in a moment her arms relaxed their desperate grip about jack's arms and shoulders, so that he was free. she continued to struggle like a madwoman, however, and, since there was nothing else to do, jack hit her again and again, until she was afraid of him, and ready to do what he told her. it had taken him some time, and as he turned with the woman he had saved, limp and helpless now, to swim for the shore, pete stubbs passed him. "want any help, jack?" cried pete. "no, thanks! we're all right now. go on out and help tom and the two he's got, pete. you two can get them ashore all right, i guess." only the woman that jack had saved was in need of attention when they were all finally ashore. she was half drowned, thanks to the struggle she had put up after she had jumped into the water, but it was not much of a task to revive her, and when she had regained her senses she, like the others, was grateful. jack himself was tired and pretty well exhausted by his exertions, but he cared little for that, since he had been successful. a few minutes' rest, and he was all right. "our launch--it's burned up, i guess!" cried the girl who had been so sensible and plucky, the one who had let pete stubbs tow her ashore without making a single movement to hamper him in any way. "look, the fire seems to be out, but i don't believe there's much left of the poor little boat." the driving rain and the lake water had, indeed, put the fire out, and the blackened hull of the launch, which had drifted slightly toward the shore, was floating quietly now. "i'll swim out and see what sort of shape she's in," said jack. "perhaps she's worth saving yet. the engine may be all right, with a little repair work, and i think i can tow her in without much trouble. she's drifted pretty close in already." he plunged in at once, without heeding the protests from the rescued ones, who said he had already done more than enough for them. a minute of fast swimming took him out to the launch, and he climbed aboard, cautiously, to see what damage had been done. the boat smelled most unpleasantly of the fire, and he found that the engine would need a good deal of attention before it would be of service again. but the forward part of the boat had suffered comparatively slight damage, as jack saw with pleasure. then, suddenly, as he looked around him, he saw something that made him jump. "it can't be!" he exclaimed to himself. but a few moments of examination convinced him that he had made no mistake. he searched the boat then from stem to stern, and, when he had satisfied himself, he dropped overboard again, after making a rope he had carried with him from the shore fast to the launch, and towed her leisurely in, until her keel grated on the beach, and the men who had been on board pulled her up beyond high water mark. as soon as he could then jack drew pete stubbs aside. "say, pete," he said, in a low tone, and tremendously excited, "here's a queer business! that launch is the one that was used to carry me off last night. i'm absolutely certain! i stayed on board long enough to make sure. do you suppose these people can be mixed up with that scoundrel? it's the same boat--and if you'll notice, when you get a chance, she's been patched up in front, right where she must have been smashed up in going through that lock. what do you make of that?" pete looked frightened as he realized what it might mean. "i know one thing we ought to do," he said. "that is let tom binns get hold of dick crawford right away and tell him about this. there's something mighty funny doing, and i don't think we can get at the bottom of it by ourselves." "that's a good idea, pete! tom's the fastest runner. you get him off by himself and tell him to get dick crawford. they'll have to stay around here until their clothes dry off, anyhow, so i guess we can manage to hold them here until he comes back." tom had already put on his clothes, and he was able to slip off quietly, so as not to arouse the suspicions of the shivering castaways, who, muffled in blankets that were kept by the boy scouts in the hut near the beach, were waiting while their clothes dried out. when he had gone off jack and pete busied themselves with making a fire. it was still raining, but not very hard, but if the clothes of those from the burned boat were to be dried that night a fire was necessary. and, as they worked, jack got a chance to examine the party more closely. the men didn't please him very much as he looked them over. they looked like cheap, flashy fellows, who might be fond of drinking and smoking because they thought it made them look like men. indeed, one of them, as soon as the fire was made, and he had seated himself as close to it as possible, asked jack if he had a cigarette or the makings of one, and seemed scornful when jack told him that he never smoked. the woman who had given jack so much trouble, too, was hard of face and unpleasant in her speech. she scowled at jack as if she resented the rough way he had handled her, and seemed entirely forgetful now of the fact that he had had to treat her in just that way to save his life--to say nothing of her own. but the younger girl, whose hair had been on fire when she jumped, was sweet of face, and had been trying to show how grateful she was ever since she had been brought ashore. she looked sadly out of place when compared to her companions, and jack wondered mightily how she came to be with them. he couldn't say anything about it, however, and he and pete busied themselves with trying to make those they had rescued comfortable. after all, jack thought, these people had been in the gravest sort of peril, and it made no difference whether they were pleasant or not. to go to the rescue had been no more than their duty as scouts, and no scout is ever supposed to stop and think about personal likes or dislikes when he has a chance to be of service to anyone in trouble or danger and needs help a scout can give. jack, looking around for pete stubbs after he had been off to bring up a fresh supply of dry firewood, since the wood all about the fire itself was damp and too wet to burn with the bright heat that was needed to dry the clothes of the victims of the fire, found that his red-headed chum was missing. the two women, in fact, were the only ones about. he looked in surprise for the men of the party, and then spoke. "your friends haven't gone off without their clothes?" he said. "no," replied the older woman. "they've just gone off to have a look at the launch, and they look like red indians. i'm sure our clothes are taking long enough to dry--and when we get them, i suppose we'll have to walk miles and miles to get anywhere!" "we're lucky to be able to walk at all," said the girl, interrupting, then. "i think we ought to be very grateful, mrs. broom, instead of complaining so much about what's a very little discomfort, anyhow." jack liked her for that speech, as he had already liked her for the pluck she had shown. but before he could answer her, he was seized suddenly from behind, and a cloth was thrown over his head, so that he could not cry out. he heard the girl scream, and one of the men shout roughly to her to keep out and not interfere. then he was carried away swiftly. but his captivity did not last very long. before he had been carried more than a hundred paces the man who was carrying his head stumbled suddenly, and, cursing, went down in a heap. the one behind, who had jack's feet, fell over him, and jack, active as a cat, worked himself free in a second, and twisted the bag from his head. "soak 'em, jack!" cried a cheery voice, and he realized that pete stubbs, alarmed in some way, had been ready to rescue him, and had seized the exact moment to do it. now pete, with a cry of exultation, snatched the blankets from the two men, who were struggling with one another on the ground, and ran off with them. "get their clothes, jack!" he shouted. "they were carrying them in a bundle. they can't go very far that way." jack laughed as he saw the dark bundle of clothes and picked it up. then he ran swiftly after pete, chuckling at the savage threats and exclamations from the two men, who, without a stitch of clothing, would certainly not dare to pursue them very far, for fear of being seen in that state of nature, as well as for the brambles and thorns that would scratch them if they attempted to make their way through the woods without the protection of clothes and, more especially, shoes. at the camp they found dick crawford, who had returned with tom binns. the two women, their clothes dry by this time, had taken possession of the hut to make themselves presentable, and dick in silent astonishment heard jack's story. "there's something queer behind all this," said he. "the attack those fellows made on jack shows that they are pretty hard characters. why, he'd just saved their lives for them!" chapter xi the mystery deepens they stood together for a moment, puzzled and silent, trying to figure out what it could mean. the two women were quiet. so far they had had nothing to do with the attack on jack. in the distance, perhaps a hundred feet or so away, they could hear the men, whose clothes jack and pete had taken, cursing and demanding that their property be returned. "keep quiet, you!" dick crawford called to them. "you'll get your things when you've given some account of yourselves and we're ready to give them to you. if you make any more disturbance around here, you won't get them at all. remember that!" a deep silence followed, and pete laughed. "guess that scared them some, dick," he said. "i don't think they'd fancy the idea of going back to the city that way. in funny papers, if a man loses his clothes, he always fetches up with a barrel. but i always did wonder where he found the barrel!" dick looked doubtfully at the little heap of clothing. "i don't suppose we ought to leave them out there without any clothes at all," said he. "but i do think, after the way they've acted, that we've got a right to look and see if there are any weapons. they would be useless, in any case, after the wetting they've had, but--" he picked up the coats of the two men and shook out the pockets. sure enough, a pistol fell from each, and from one there also dropped a black mask. "that doesn't look very well for them," he said. "i think, tom, you'd better go to a telephone and see if you can get captain haskin to meet us here. he or some of his railroad detectives may know something about these people." tom hurried off at once to obey the order, for such it was, though dick, as he almost always did, had put the order in the form of a simple request. then dick looked more carefully at the things that had fallen from the pockets. "hello!" he cried, suddenly. "say, jack, look here! here's a letter postmarked from woodleigh. that's where you came from, isn't it?" "yes, it is!" cried jack, on the alert, as always, at a sign of any sort from the town where he had spent his boyhood. "i think we've got a right to open this," said dick, "though looking at letters that aren't addressed to one is pretty small business, as a rule. however, when people do the sort of thing that these fellows so nearly got away with tonight they don't have a right to expect decent treatment from others." he looked grave when he had finished reading. "this letter seems to concern you, jack," he said. "it's from a lawyer up there, and it's addressed to a man called silas broom, at the general delivery window of the post office in the city here. it says that the boy jack danby, about whom mr. broom was making inquiries, left woodleigh some months ago, and has since, it is supposed, been working near here. now why does anyone want to know about you? and why does this fellow broom, if that is really his name, have to hear this? he is a great scoundrel, whatever his name is." "you quit callin' my husband names. who are you, i'd like to know?" the older woman emerged suddenly from the hut, in time to hear dick's last words, and she faced him now like a fury, her arms akimbo, and her eyes snapping. she looked around suspiciously, too. "where's silas?" she asked, angrily. "what have you done with him? ain't those his clothes there?" she snatched the clothes up in an instant. before dick, who was astonished by her appearance, could check her she had torn the coat from his hands. "silas!" she yelled. "where are you, honey?" "here i am--out in the woods," cried her husband, frantically. "they've stolen my clothes, carrie. get 'em, and bring 'em here, will you?" "comin'!" she called, and darted off with surprising speed, considering her weight and the terrible exhaustion that had seemed to afflict her when she was being brought ashore from the launch. dick and the two scouts were laughing, although a bit ruefully, as she vanished. "i can't touch a woman," said dick, sadly. "i'm afraid i'll have to admit that i'd like to--but i guess she could lick me at that, if she was put to it. is that the one you dragged ashore, jack?" "that's the one!" said jack. "it's a wonder she didn't drown the two of us. but she certainly seems to have recovered pretty completely." "it's bad business," said dick, frowning. "those fellows will get away now. the only hold we had on them was that they didn't have any clothes. now they'll make tracks, and all ye can do is to tell captain haskin what they looked like and what they did. i think we look pretty foolish, myself." just then the girl, who had won jack's admiration by her courage when she was in real danger and by her reproof of the others when they had shown their ingratitude, stepped into the firelight, fully dressed. she did not look at all as if she belonged with the others. she was more refined, gentler, and sweeter in every way. dick crawford stared at her in astonishment. jack had told him about her, but, since seeing the others, he had thought that jack had made a mistake in praising her. "i beg your pardon," he said, speaking to her as she stopped and looked about her, evidently puzzled by the absence of her companions. "but i'm afraid we'll have to ask you to tell us what you can of the people you were with. you are not related to them, are you?" "no," she said. "no, indeed! i came with them because they promised to show me how to reach a certain person for whom my father has been searching for a long time. then, of course, there was the fire on the launch. but even before that they had kept putting me off, and i didn't like the way they were acting at all. where are they now?" "i wish i knew!" said dick. "however, we can talk more about them later. i think that now the best thing we can do is to get you back to the city. your father will meet you there, i suppose, won't he?" "yes," she said. "my father is not at all well, and he is quite an old man. we are staying at the hotel lincoln. i came with them alone, though father didn't want me to, because they were so very positive that our chase was nearly over." "i think it's my duty to tell you," said dick, "that these people who were with you seem to be a very bad lot. they made an attempt to kidnap this boy, who helped to save the lives of your whole party, and we have every reason to suppose that they are associated with a gang of thieves who have a grudge against him. i think you had better let us take you back to your father. and if you will follow my advice, you will have nothing more to do with any of them. they will only lead you into danger and trouble." dick was anxious to question the girl further, but she was much shaken, and in no condition to tell him anything more. so they all went back to town together, and dick himself acted as miss burton's escort to her hotel. "i will follow your advice," she promised him. "if any of those people try to see me again, i will refuse to have anything to do with them. but won't you come to see us, and perhaps you will be able to help us in our search?" "i'll be glad to do that," said dick. "but if those people approach you again, it might be better to pretend that you still trust them. don't put yourself in their hands in any way, but try to get them to talk to you. in that way you may be able to get valuable information that would otherwise not be available at all." captain haskin, the head of the detective service of the railroad on which jack danby's bravery had averted a terrible wreck, was much concerned when he heard the story of the rescue and the ungrateful conduct of those whose lives had been saved. "we've got to look after danby," he said. "he's an important witness for us, and if he turns up missing, it's going to be more difficult to get a conviction, though perhaps not impossible. but i think there's more than that in their attempt to get rid of him." "what do you mean, captain?" asked dick crawford. "why, i don't know, my boy. but these people are not loyal enough to one another as a rule to lead them to run such risks as these villains have encountered just to get rid of a witness who may be damaging to some of them who have been captured. when one or two of them are caught, those who escape are usually so glad to get off free themselves that they disappear and make no effort to help those who were not so fortunate. the fact that they have kept after danby this way is very suspicious." "well, i happen to know," said dick, "that there are people who seem to have a grudge against jack, or at least who have an interest in maintaining a mystery that exists as to his birth. i don't like to talk about that as a rule, because it's his own-business, but i'd better tell you. he does not know his real name, or who his parents were, and it is the ambition of his life to discover them. since he came away from woodleigh, attempts have been made to find out what has become of him, and a man who was concerned in an attempt to rob me of a considerable sum of money that i was carrying for my employer is one of those who seems most anxious to find out all about jack. he knows the secret of his birth." "that would explain," said the detective, "the whole business at once. now, you see, you've given me something to work on. the railroad can't feel at ease until all the men concerned in that plot that so nearly wrecked the limited the other night are safely in jail. it isn't that we're vindictive, but when men are ready to imperil the lives of the passengers on the trains we run, it isn't safe for us to let them be at large. they may make another attempt, and there is no way of being sure that the next time we shall be able to stop them. it was all a matter of luck that blocked their plan before--and we can't trust to luck in such matters. it might cost a hundred lives to do so." "well, if we can help you in any way, you can depend on us to do anything in our power, captain. i think any of our boys in the scouts would do anything for jack danby, and, of course, we want to do anything we can to help the railroad safeguard its trains, for the sake of all the people who have to ride on them." "the most important thing right now is to see that nothing happens to danby. they have been so bold and so determined in their efforts to put him out of the way already that i am afraid they are not likely to stop at the two attempts. one thing seems very curious to me. the man who carried him off from the camp was entirely willing to kill him--planned to do so, didn't he?" "so jack says. and he is not the sort to be scared by idle threats." "just so! but now here is a queer thing. these people that tried to carry him off to-day used the same boat as the man who took him from the camp. presumably they would have served him the same way as the other scoundrel would have done. and yet they seem also to want to get in touch with jack himself--and not for the purpose of killing him.. it looks as if they were working at cross purposes--as if they did not know that the boy who foiled the train-wrecking plot and the one they have lost are one and the same. don't you see?" "i certainly do! say, this is a confused affair, isn't it?" "it's like a chinese puzzle. but we'll work it out somehow." chapter xii an ungrateful parent when his work was done the next day, jack danby found dick crawford waiting for him. "jack," said the assistant scout-master, "i don't want to raise any false hopes in you, but i think we're on the verge of finding out something about you--about who you really are, and all that." "how, dick? i'd give anything if that were true!" "we were awfully stupid not to think of it last night, jack. you know that pretty girl, that miss burton, who was on the burning launch? she wasn't like the others--we all saw that. she wasn't their sort at all! well, she said she was with them because she believed that they were going to be able to lead her to someone that her father had been searching for." "you mean i might be the one they were looking for, dick?" "i don't know, jack, but it looks possible. not that she might not be looking for someone else. but she was with these people, and one of those men had a letter about you from the lawyer up at woodleigh. i don't believe they really meant to lead her to you at all. i think that there are people who are spending their time in making it impossible for those who are really interested in you to get any trace of you." "then why should they have told her they could find me, if it really is i she's looking for?" "they might think it better to fool her, jack, than to let her deal with people who would treat her honestly. if she thought they were helping her, and trying to earn a reward, if there is one, she and her father would be unlikely to go to anyone else. and as long as they could convince her that they were doing their best they would be in complete control of the situation, you see." "that certainly sounds as if it might be right, dick. what do you think we'd better do?" "go and see mr. burton and his daughter right away. i'm certain of one thing: that girl is all right. she's true and honest, no matter what sort of people may have deceived her and have induced her to fall into their plans and ways. she thinks she's doing the right thing. depend on that!" "i think you're right about her, dick. i thought she was different from the others at once. she was so plucky and so cool, and she helped pete all she could when he swam ashore with her, instead of getting frightened and making it harder, as the old woman did. she was all right." "well, we'll go there right away. they're at the hotel lincoln. that's the best hotel in town, you know, so i guess they're people who are pretty well to do." they had not long to wait at the hotel before they were asked to go up to the suite of rooms occupied by mr. burton and his daughter. the girl, who looked much better, naturally, since she had had a good rest, and a change of clothing, greeted them with a good deal of friendly interest, but her father, who walked with a stick, seemed to be querulous and inclined to distrust them. "a fine lot of people we've run into since we've come here!" he said. "molly, who are these people?" "mr. crawford warned me against broom and his wife, father," she said. "i told you of that. and this is jack danby, who helped to save us all from the launch." "well, what do you want? what do you want?" asked mr. burton, peevishly. "money? i'll give you some--but don't come bothering me!" "i don't want any of your money, sir, and neither does danby," said dick, indignant and surprised by this reception. he looked at the girl. she seemed to be as angry as he was himself, and had flushed until her face was a bright pink. he thought she looked even prettier than before, but she also looked frightened, as if, while angry, she dared not provoke her father further by seeming to resent what he said. "we came here," said dick, facing the old man, "because we have an idea that we can help you in your search. you are looking for a boy, are you not?" "yes, yes!" said the old man. "it's a wild goose chase--we'll never find him! it's a cousin of molly's--my daughter--and my nephew. a worthless young scamp, probably, even if he's alive. no use looking for him--let him stay lost, i say! he's less trouble that way." "the reason i say that i think we may be able to help you, sir, is that we think the gang that had your daughter with them yesterday are on the trail of the boy you are looking for. can you not tell us what you know of his movements?" "i don't see why i should! you're probably just another of the blackmailing crowd that's been after my money since i was fool enough to allow myself to be persuaded to look for the boy. he was stolen from my brother's house when he was a very small boy. we had reason to suspect a man who had a grudge against my brother. that's the only clue we have." "that's not worth very much by itself, sir. but it happens that i know of a boy who was mysteriously brought up by an old man. he knows nothing of his parentage. but he does know, and his friends know, also, that there are people who know all about him, and that these people are very anxious to keep him from learning the truth about himself. and these people who have been trying to locate this boy lately are connected with the ones who were with your daughter last night--people with whom no young woman ought ever to be trusted by her father!" dick was furious by this time at the way in which mr. burton treated him, and he forgot, for the moment, the respect due to age and infirmity. he regarded burton as a careless father, who should be made to understand that he had been criminally careless in allowing so beautiful a girl to be left in the power of wretches like those who had been on the boat when it took fire, and he had no mind to be polite and diplomatic. "get out of my room, you impudent young rascal!" shouted mr. burton when he realized what dick was saying. "don't you think i can see through your game, eh?" he shook his stick threateningly at dick. "i'm not afraid of you, sir," said dick. "i told the truth, and i think you know it. we're not going to stay here--but i warn you that you may be sorry before this business is cleared up. you'll trust a scoundrel like broom, and yet, when we come to you with an offer to help you in your search, you insult us!" molly burton, frightened and distressed by the turn matters had taken, tried to make peace, but her efforts were of no avail. her father ordered the two of them out of his rooms, and they could do nothing but go. "well, we didn't gain much by going there," said dick. "i'm sorry i lost my temper, jack, but it would have been pretty hard not to, when he was talking and acting that way." "i wonder if he can really be my uncle, though, dick. i don't know that i'd be so crazy to have him for a relative, but i would like to think that pretty girl was my cousin!" "she's all right, isn't she, jack? but we have gained something, at any rate. we've got some sort of a starting point. now, if we can get captain haskin to help us, we may be able to start with the time when you turned up at woodleigh, and trace some of old dan's movements. in that way, you see, it may be possible to get at the truth. it's a little more than we knew before we went to see them, at any rate." "i think if we could see miss burton alone, dick, she would treat us better, and tell us anything she knew." "i'm sure of that, jack. i'll try to see her, too. it seems wrong to try to do anything of that sort without letting her father know, but we haven't any choice. he certainly wouldn't allow her to see me if he knew that she was planning anything of that sort. i'll try that in the morning." but in the morning when dick went to the hotel, he was told that mr. burton and his daughter were gone, and that they had left no address. no one at the hotel could give him any idea of where they might be found, and they had left no orders, it was said, about the forwarding of any letters that might come for them. dick, resourceful as he was, felt that he was facing a blind wall. there was nothing more for him to do. he could only wait, and trust that chance, or the detective abilities of captain haskin, would enable him to pick up the trail again. jack danby, needless to say, was bitterly disappointed when he heard what dick had to tell him the next evening, after his fruitless effort to see the burtons again. jack had never wavered in his belief that some time he would settle the mystery of his birth, that had worried him ever since he had been able to understand that he was set apart from others. to see a chance now and then just as he felt that he was about to read the secret have that chance vanish, was doubly hard. it was worse than if he had never had the hope of success. but he tried hard not to let dick crawford see how badly the incident made him feel. dick had done what he had for the best, and he had honestly thought that there was a chance for jack's great ambition to be realized. he felt as disappointed as did jack himself. "gee, jack," he said, "who'd ever guess that a sweet girl like that would have such an old curmudgeon of a father? he's the limit! but there's nothing we can do right away. i think captain haskin will be able to find out where they came from, and where they've gone to without any trouble--that's the sort of thing detectives are supposed to be able to do." "but if the old gentleman won't help us at all it's going to be pretty hard to get anything done. i've seen crusty old fellows like that before. when they've been deceived in a person it takes a long time before they're willing to trust anyone else--and, of course, you can't blame them so very much, at that. "i'm not going to give up, dick, anyhow. i'm surer than ever now that the secret of who i am is worth a lot of trouble, and i'll find out what it is if i never do anything else!" "at that rate you're bound to win, jack. keep on trying." chapter xiii the moving pictures captain haskin, though he took no one into his confidence as to just what he was doing, impressed dick and jack alike as a man who, once started, would never drop any undertaking until he was successful. he might not always succeed, but failure in his case would never be due to lack of effort. so they were not surprised when he came to them a day or two after the burtons had left town and told them that he had what might be a valuable clue. "i want you to come to the theatre with me," he said. he smiled as he said it. "that may seem like a frivolous thing to do when we are at work on a mystery of this sort, but you'll see what i mean when we get there." dick and jack, who liked the railroad detective and trusted him implicitly, were certainly surprised, but they made no bones about accompanying him. he had called for them at dick's house, where jack was spending the evening, and he said he wanted tom binns and pete stubbs to be along, too. so they rode with him in the automobile which he was using, and picked up the other scouts. "i don't believe you ever saw the particular theatre i'm going to take you to," he said, when he had all four of them in the car. "it isn't much of a theatre, even for a moving picture place. it's a little place over near the river, and the films are cheap and not very good. but you'll see why i picked it out later." it was a long ride, after they had picked up tom binns, even in the detective's big car. as they rode, haskin kept looking around behind him. "i've had a queer feeling two or three times to-day," he said, "that i was being followed. i've shadowed so many people in my time that i'm pretty well acquainted with the ways of doing it, and i must say i don't like the look of things. those fellows are desperate enough to do anything at all, but if they're actually shadowing the detective who's in charge of the efforts to run them down and catch them they've got even more nerve than i thought was possible." two or three times, now, as they made their way along, at a slow pace by haskin's direction, those in the car got a glimpse of a smaller automobile that seemed to hang pretty persistently on their track. they were evidently never out of sight of the occupants of the other car for very long. "i suppose they know what they're doing," said haskin, finally, "but what their game is, is beyond me. i'm not trying to hide from them or anyone else. i don't see why they should want to track me down this way. go ahead, full speed, now! we'll give them a chase for it, if they're looking for that." it was not long before the car pulled up in a dirty, tumbledown street near the water front, before a shop that had been turned into a moving picture theatre. haskin paid their way in, and they found themselves in a darkened hall and the pictures were being thrown on to the screen as they entered. "one of the things these people do to attract people to their theatre," explained haskin, as they took their seats, "is to have a film made every week right here in the district where it is to be shown. for instance, this week they are showing a picture that was made on the river front a few days ago. people come and think that perhaps they'll see themselves or their friends in the 'movies.' it's lots of fun for them, you see, and it's a good idea for the company that invented it." jack and dick suddenly began to understand. "is there anyone we know in the pictures, captain?" asked jack. "that's what i hope, jack. what i do know is that there is a section of the film that shows three of the men who tried to wreck the train the other night. they are talking with some other men, and it is because i think that one of these others may be this man broom that i want you to see it and identify him, if you can. then, you see, we can send out his picture and have a much better chance of catching him." haskin had looked around carefully before he spoke. he had no idea that there would be anyone around who would be able to make head or tail out of what he was saying, but he was trained to take chances only when he had to. but there seemed to be no one near except a sleepy, slouchy sailor in a seat immediately behind him. the man had been drinking, and his heavy breathing convinced haskin that he was harmlessly asleep. but the next time he looked around the sailor was gone. he must have moved very quietly to escape the notice of haskin, and he was just passing out through the door when the detective saw him. "that's bad business!" he said to himself. "it was mighty careless of me. i ought to have known better, certainly, than to talk that way, even if there didn't seem to be anyone around to hear me. i only hope he didn't understand, or that he really is what he seems to be--just a sailor on a spree." they had a long and tedious wait for the time to come when the all-important film should be begun. what was reeled off first had little interest for any of them. the three scouts all liked the moving picture shows well enough, but they preferred the other kind, the sort shown in the better houses uptown, and they could not get up much interest in the pictures that seemed to delight those who were seated all about them. the place grew constantly more and more crowded. it was evidently a popular diversion near the river, and the attraction of the local scenes film, with the chance that any spectator might suddenly find himself a part of the performance, was what pleased them the most and attracted the greatest attention. at last it was time for that particular film to be begun. it was quite a long one, as it turned out, and it was not until a number of pictures had been shown that haskin suddenly leaned forward and pointed to a little pier, beside which a motor boat was bobbing up and down. jack, with a gasp, and a queer little thrill running up and down his back, recognized three men who stood by the boat. they were quarreling about something, and were by no means still, but there was no mistaking them. they were three of the men that he had seen in the little station on the night that the attempt to wreck the limited had failed. and, from the edge of the screen, another man was walking toward them. "there," said haskin, "that's the fellow i want you to watch. is that broom? if it is--" he couldn't finish. there was a sudden sputtering by the film. the lights went out--only to give place to a dark, red glare near the film. and, at the same moment, there was a wild shriek from the back of the hall--"fire!" the lights winked on again in a moment, and then went out and on again, alternating for two or three minutes, so that at one moment the little, crowded theatre was black as ink and the next as light as day. most of those in the audience were women and children, and they were in a panic in a moment. "come on, scouts!" roared dick crawford. "if they don't stop crowding and pushing, not one of these people will get out of this place alive." the three scouts knew what to do and how to do it. they were prepared for this as well as for any other emergency. they were, perhaps, the only cool-headed ones in the place. adding their voices to dick's, and with haskin to help them, they managed somehow to restore some sort of order. they fought their way through the packed aisles, and, though the fire was gaining, back by the film, they made the people pass out in good order. great as was the peril, not one of them flinched. jack danby, in the center aisle, had to bear the brunt of the wild rush for the door, but he managed to keep the people from piling up against the door, and so making a human dam that would have kept everyone from safety. one or two men, and the braver of the women, inspired by the actions of the scouts, pulled themselves together, and helped them, and before the flames had made much headway, everyone, it seemed, was out. but jack danby remembered seeing a child fall just before the last group had gone through the door. he did not see it outside, and, despite protests from all who saw him, he made his way back. the lights had gone out for good now, but there was plenty of chance to see even in that grimy, smoke-filled place, by the fitful glare of the flames that were reaching out and licking up the seats and the tawdry decorations now. and he had not very far to go before he found what he was looking for--the body of a little girl who had fallen and been overcome by the smoke. he picked her up and with little difficulty carried her out to the street, where a fireman took her from him. the firemen made short work of the blaze, and haskin, with the four scouts, walked away and reached the automobile, which had been forced to move several blocks on account of the fire. "that fire wasn't any accident," said haskin, gravely. "now i know why those fellows were following me. they were afraid of something of this sort. my heavens, what cold-blooded scoundrels they are! they were willing to wreck that train--now they took the chance of killing everyone in that little theatre to keep me from seeing that film--and, i suppose, with the idea that they could get rid of me and the most dangerous witness against them at the same time, and by a single blow." "do you really think they did that?" cried dick, shocked by the idea. "i think so, yes. but it's one thing to think so, and to say that i think so, and it's quite another to prove it. that's the trouble! but i'm going to try pretty hard, and i'll fix the blame on them and see that they go to jail for it if there's any human way of doing it. it's a pity they succeeded as well as they did. they've destroyed that film, and it would have been mighty useful as evidence against them, let me tell you!" "is there no duplicate?" "i'm afraid not. but we'll try, anyway. there's no harm in that." chapter xiv a foolish strike the next morning jack danby, arriving at the factory, found pete stubbs already there, for it was his duty that week to arrive a little in advance of the rest of the boys, and open up. he was wearing a glum face. "gee, jack, here's a peck of trouble," he said. "i got down here and found that mr. simms, the big boss, and mr. carew, the manager, had been here since five o'clock." "what's wrong, pete?" "i dunno, for sure, jack, but i heard somethin' bein' said about a strike. and there ain't a man here yet!" "well, we're not on strike, pete. i guess we'd better get busy and do our work just as if there wasn't anything wrong. then _we'll_ be all right, anyhow." they were busy for a few minutes, as the other office boys and the clerks began to appear. "keep quiet about anything you know or suspect, pete," said jack, warningly, as the rooms began to fill up. "it's all right to tell me, but you'd better let the others hear anything there is to be known from mr. carew. he'll tell us all, probably, when he gets ready." but the morning was well advanced before the conference in mr. carew's room was over. there was an unusual silence about the big factory. none of the machinery was running, which was sufficiently out of the ordinary to excite a lot of talk and gossip, although pete gave out none of the information with which he was almost bursting. finally, however, mr. carew came out. "this company," he said, when everyone had turned in silence to face him, "has done business for a good many years and has never had any sort of trouble, until now, with any of the people who have worked for it. now, unfortunately, some malcontents among the hands here have spread their ideas, and a strike has been called. we have tried to reason with the men, but they have quit work, and this factory will be closed for at least a week, beginning to-day." "gee, jack, that's just what i was afraid of," said pete, his face falling. "that means a week's wages gone!" murmurs arose from all over the room. but carew, a smile on his face, held up his hand for silence, and went on. "the company has no intention of making you suffer," he said. "your wages will go on just the same, and we will simply consider this week's lay-off as a sort of a vacation. that will be all for now. you will get notice when it is time for you to return to work." there was a wild cheer then. a week's wages meant a great deal to most of the boys and clerks employed in and about the factory, and the revulsion of feeling when they learned that they were not to lose their pay was enough to justify even a louder cheer than they gave. "danby and stubbs," said mr. carew next, "i wish you'd wait when the others go, and come into my office. i want to talk to you." they waited accordingly, and when they went into mr. carew's room they found mr. simms, the president of the company, waiting there with the manager. "this is very serious business, boys," said mr. simms, gravely. "a strike is one thing, and if the men stopped at a strike they would be entirely within their rights. unfortunately, some of them, bad workers, who had been threatened with dismissal, and others who were discontented, for one reason or another, have succeeded in stirring up a lot of hard feeling. and there is no telling what may happen." "do you think they'll try to put the place on the bum, sir?" cried pete, the irrepressible, his eyes flashing. both the men laughed, though their faces showed that they were too worried to do much laughing. "i certainly hope they won't attempt anything of the sort, for their sake, as well as ours, pete," said mr. simms. "if they were let alone, our old men, even if they were to go on strike, wouldn't make a move against the company's property. but these rascals who are leading them want to make it impossible for them to back down and come back to work. and i am afraid that there are no lengths at which they would stop in the effort to injure us." "here is the point, boys," said mr. carew. "we know, from past experience with you, that you are trustworthy, and loyal to us. now, what we want to do is to get through this strike with as little trouble as possible. we don't want any shooting, as there might be if we brought in armed men to guard the property. what we want is to prevent any attempt to destroy the place by getting ample warning of anything that is tried." "and you're going to let us look out for them?" cried pete. "gee, that's great, jack! we can do it, too, can't we?" "the idea we had," said carew, "was that you boys, and perhaps some of your companions in the boy scouts, being used to tracking and trailing in the woods, could keep a better watch than our regular watchmen. they are faithful enough, and would mean well, but what we are afraid of is that a lot of clever scoundrels could get inside and set the place on fire before they knew it. they wouldn't expect boys to be on the lookout, and we can arrange to have the place protected amply if we can have a few minutes warning. in that way the plans of the violent ones among the men would be blocked, and at the same time there would be no danger of bloodshed, or of anyone being hurt. i would rather lose a year's pay than have a man of them all injured." "and i a year's profits, or a good deal more," said mr. simms. "understand me, boys, we want you to do this in a way that will not get you yourselves into any danger. simply stay here tonight, after, the place is closed up. mr. carew and i and a few other men will be inside, but we don't want to show ourselves. i am having telephones put in all over the factory, with instruments out in the courtyards, so that you can get word to us without delay if you see anything suspicious. now suppose you run home and get your scout uniforms. we will have plenty to eat here, and we will have cots rigged up for you, too, so that you can sleep in the day time." "this is almost as good as being in the militia, isn't it, jack?" said pete, as they hurried out. "i think it's a lot better, pete. in the militia, if there's a strike, the men sometimes have to fire into a crowd, and a lot of foolish people who don't mean any harm may get hurt or killed. i'd hate to have to do anything like that. i suppose it's necessary, but i'd feel like a murderer if i'd ever fired into a crowd that way, i know." "well, this is going to be a great lark, anyhow, jack. i'd rather do this than work, any day!" "it may be pretty hard work before we're through, pete. look over there!" they were leaving the factory then, and across the street was a crowd of men, in their working clothes, sullen and unhappy in appearance. two or three men, dressed more like brokers than workmen, were passing to and fro among them, and leaving a wake of scowls and curses wherever they passed. "strikers!" said pete. "gosh, but they don't look like the crowd that we see coming to work every morning, do they, jack? they look different--like wild men, almost." "it's too bad," said jack. "i'm mighty sorry to see them go out, because i know that they're treated as well here as they would be anywhere in the state, and a lot better than at most places. it's men like big ed willis, who never wants to work at all, who make the trouble." "just listen here, young feller," said a big man, who appeared suddenly from behind them, "keep a quiet tongue in yer head about me. i'm big ed, i am, and i'll smash your ugly face in for ye, if ye don't look out! there's a strike on for higher wages and shorter hours here, see, and we don't want no scabs, man or boy, goin' into that factory." "we're not in the union, ed willis," said jack, unafraid. "we make our own rules about working or not working, and don't you forget it! you can beat me up easily enough, if you want to, but you won't be much of a man if you try it." "for two cents i'd smash you in the jaw, so i would!" said willis, blustering, like the true bully he was. "let the kid alone, ed," cried another man, coming across the street. "he ain't in the union. i think we're fools to strike ourselves. don't go to making no more trouble without you need to." "i'll let you off this time," said big ed, a little abashed. "but see to it that you keep away from the factory over there." "you mind your business and we'll mind ours!" said jack. "that'll keep you plenty busy enough, ed willis!" "gee, i thought he was going to hit you that time, jack," said pete stubbs. "i'm pretty small, and if i hit him he'd never know it unless someone told him, but i was going to smash him behind the ear with a stone if he tried that." "he's all bluff and talk," said jack, disgustedly. "if he does any fighting, it'll be by letting someone else strike the blows while he looks on from a place where he knows he won't be hit. there's lots of fighters like that." they hurried on home then, and changed from the clothes they wore every day to work in to their boy scout uniforms. each of them took, too, his axe and scout knife, in case of emergencies, though it was hard to imagine any use they were likely to have for them. "look here, pete," said jack, when they had changed their clothes and were ready to start back to the factory, "if we go in the way we came out they'll see us, and they're likely to watch for us to come out again. that wouldn't be much use, so i think we'd better try to get back without being seen." "how can we do that, jack?" "i know a good way. we'll go down to the freight yard and find a car that is going to be shunted onto the private track. there's a car-load of wagon wheels due to-day, i know, and the chances are that we can find that and hide in it. the men at the freight yard would never know, and when we got inside we could get out and the strikers wouldn't know we were inside at all." "that's a fine idea, jack. we'll do that. say, that'll be a great joke on ed willis and those other toughs he's got on his side, won't it?" "i'll bet they'll never guess we're inside at all, pete!" both boys knew their way around the freight yards very well indeed. both had been sent there a good many times by mr. carew to look up delayed shipments, that were needed in the factory, and, as a consequence, the men at work in the yards, knowing that they worked in the factory, were not suspicious when jack began asking about the wagon wheels. they found the car with little difficulty, and, once they had discovered that it was to be shunted into the private spur of track leading into the factory within an hour or two, they did not hesitate to get inside and hide themselves in one dark corner of the car. there was plenty of room for them, and they crouched behind a case of wheels, and told one another stories. it was good fun, they thought, and they only wished that it was time for their ride to begin. "listen!" whispered pete, suddenly. "that sounds like someone fumbling for the catch of the car door, jack." it was dark in the car, and suddenly, there was a stream of light as the door was pushed cautiously open. "right, oh, ed," said a hoarse voice, trying to be quiet. "we can shove the stuff right in here. then, about midnight, we can get in and let it off. they'll never open this car up tonight, and they won't know the stuff's in here." "not unless it goes off as she bumps over the frogs going into the spur," said big ed willis, chuckling. "but if she lets go then there'll be a pretty big explosion, just the same. may leave a bit of the factory standing, but it'll take them a long time to make repairs. it would blow number four shop and this car to smithereens, anyhow." horrified, but unable to make a move, the two scouts saw three heavy boxes being loaded gingerly onto the car and hidden under some sacking. "there!" said big ed. "that's a good job, well done! and it looks mighty neat. no one'd ever guess, just to look at that sacking, that there was enough dynamite underneath it to blow half the town up if it was set properly." scarcely had the two men closed the door when the scouts made a simultaneous leap for it. but, as they moved, they felt the bump of the freight engine against the car and a moment later it began to move. it was too late for them to get off, and they could only sit and watch that pile of sacking, with its deadly secret beneath it, wondering if every moment was not to be their last. every time the car jolted over a frog in the rail they jumped, wondering why the deadly stuff did not explode, and jack was not ashamed to admit afterward that he was sick with fear during the whole terrible ride. but it ended at last, with the dynamite still safe and undisturbed, and they breathed great sighs of relief as they realized that the first and probably the worst of their perils was really over. mr. simms was incredulous when they reached him and told him of what they had discovered, but the dynamite was a witness not to be discredited, and he had to believe when he saw that. with the utmost care it was removed and placed in water, and then they began to make fresh plans. chapter xv the dynamiters "well," said mr. simms, "that is a providential discovery, certainly! if they had been allowed to reach that car of dynamite and set off all that stuff there would have been precious little left of us or the factories tomorrow morning. now the question is what to do to prevent them from doing anything else?" "i think we'd better leave the car just as it is, and even fix something under that sacking to look like the dynamite," said jack. "if they get to it at all they will be in a terrible hurry, certainly, and they won't stop to look to see if it's the right stuff. then, if we are watching them we can catch them red-handed, and it will be just the ones that are making all the trouble that will be caught. big ed willis and his gang are perfectly willing to sneak up in the night and set some dynamite to blow up innocent people, but they'll leave others to bear the brunt of their crimes, every time." "that's a good idea," said carew. "i think we'd better fix that up right away, mr. simms. now, how about you, boys? do you think you can keep a sharp enough lookout to be able to spot those fellows when they come in?" "yes, sir, i do! they'll be careful to dodge the places that would ordinarily be watched. i think they'll try to come in by the fence near the railroad spur. they'll know that the main gates would be closely guarded, and the spur itself. but the fence near the spur is easy to climb, and i think that's where they'll try to get in." "and i'll tell you how to catch, them, too, mr. carew," said pete stubbs. "they'll have to get inside the car to fix that dynamite, you know, and get it ready to set off, and if jack and i are right behind them, i don't see why we can't lock them inside the car. then, if the gate is open, we can start the car rolling down the grade, and it will run right outside of the yard and down toward the freight yard. if we really catch them we'll have plenty of time to give the alarm, and they can be taken right out of the car. if they made a racket here they might make trouble." "that's so," said jack. "i think pete's got the right idea, mr. carew. you see, those strikers, if they have an inkling of what's going to happen, are likely to be pretty close by, watching for the chance to rush in after the explosion, if i know anything about the way big ed manages things." "you mean they might make an attempt at a rescue?" "that's just the danger i should guess, sir. big ed and his precious friends probably plan to set a time fuse, and then disappear, and get as far as possible away before the explosion, so that they can have witnesses to prove that they were a long way off when the explosion took place." they spent the afternoon not in sleep, as jack and pete had planned to do, but in going all over the ground outside the shops of the big factory, trying to determine the places most likely to be selected by willis and his gang in their effort to reach the dynamite. then, when they were satisfied that they had inspected the whole place, and that they could find their way even if they were blindfolded, jack and pete rested. after supper mr. simms insisted that they should have some sleep. he told them they would have a hard night's work ahead of them, and that, as there was no telling at what time the attempt to reach the dynamite would be made, they must guard against the danger of getting sleepy. "we're still depending a good deal on you two," he said, "although you have, of course, already made the complete success of this plot impossible. but if they got to that car without being seen, and discovered that their dynamite had been taken away, they might still make an effort to set the whole place on fire, and, if they succeeded in that, and had a mob outside to hamper the firemen, there might be terrible damage, that would cripple the company for a long time." it was about ten o'clock when pete and jack, in their scout uniforms, hard to detect at any distance, even in broad daylight, and making them almost invisible at night, took up their vigil. the place seemed to be as silent and deserted as a tomb. lights were few and far between, but each of them carried an electric torch supplied by mr. carew. these they did not intend to use except in an emergency, since to use them would mean betraying their position to the enemy, and it was their chief opportunity to succeed that they were not known to willis and the others to be in the place at all. the strikers would be on the lookout for regular watchmen, not for keen-eyed boys. there was a high wall around the greater portion of the grounds, topped with broken glass, so that the place was really well fortified against the attack of a mob. but the danger tonight was even greater than it would have been from a mob, more insidious, and harder to guard against. the two scouts, to make sure, if that were possible, that there should be no surprise, agreed to patrol the whole wall, and thus have the best possible chance of seeing anyone who tried to climb over. they could do this, meeting in the center of the trip, and leaving no spot unwatched for more than two or three minutes. "if i hear anyone, pete, or see anything wrong," said jack, "i'll give the patrol call--the cry of a crow." "sure! i'll understand, if i hear it, and i'll give the same call if i'm the one that sees something." "right! if we hear that call the one who hears it will stop patrolling at once and go for the sound." "they can't see us if we keep in the shadow, can they, jack?" "i don't believe so, pete. it is a pretty heavy shadow, and anyone coming over the wall is likely to have his eyes more or less dazzled by the arc lights on the other side." "don't call unless you have to, pete. remember that they're not fools, these fellows, and they're apt to know that such a call means danger, even if they don't know who's here. we don't want just to scare them off--they might come back if we did that. we want to catch the ring-leaders." they started from the railroad spur, so they would meet there each time as they completed a round of the walls, since that was where they felt the enemy was most likely to appear. "sleepy, pete?" asked jack, when they had been at it nearly an hour. "i would be, i think, if i wasn't walking around, jack. that's fine, though. it helps to keep me awake." "same here! i've heard of being so tired that you can go to sleep standing up, or even when you're walking about, but it doesn't seem possible to me." for a long time they kept up the patrol. all sorts of strange noises startled them, but, with their training as boy scouts, which had accustomed them to the night noises of the woods, and to keeping their heads, they did not give the alarm. at last, however, after jack had met pete and passed on, he heard the sound of a crow's call. gently and silently he slipped back. as he came near the spur he saw two dark figures climbing over the wall. and a moment later pete, moving with the stealth of an indian, touched his hand. "i guess they're here, jack," he whispered, tense with excitement and delighted that the long vigil was over at last. big ed willis was easy to recognize. the other man was a stranger to them, and, since both wore handkerchiefs over the upper part of their faces, it was impossible to tell what he looked like. the strikers, full of their murderous intention, moved quietly and cautiously along toward the car, which stood by itself. it was on a sharp grade, but a billet of wood held it in place. the two scouts, hardly daring to breathe, lest they be heard, followed the men not more than twenty paces behind them. they wore moccasins instead of their stout scout shoes, so that their movements were without noise, and they could see and hear everything the two men did. "we'll both have to get in the car," they heard big ed whisper. "the stuff's heavy, and we want to fix the fuses in there, so that we'll have less time to spend out in the open, where someone might see us." "right!" said the other man. "come on, then!" "as soon as they get inside, pete," whispered jack, now, with a little thrill of exultation at the way the strikers were walking into the trap set for them, "kick that bit of wood that holds the car out of the way. i don't believe it will start moving right away. then rush around and help me with the door, if i need you." "all right, jack! be ready to slam it shut as soon as you hear me coming, will you?" in a moment, as jack crouched outside the door, with the heavy hasp in his hand, he heard the slight jar that showed that pete had done his part. at once he slid the door close, and pushed the hasp in. with pete to help him, they had it securely locked in a moment, so that no one inside could hope to get out. then, while a yell of rage and surprise, mingled with terror, came from inside the car, the two boys leaned all their weight against it. so slight was the resistance it could offer, owing to the grade, that it started to roll at once. "come on, pete," cried jack. "get aboard the car--swing up the way the brakemen do." yelling in triumph, to let carew and the others know that they had succeeded, the two scouts leaped to the top of the car. a man had been stationed in a nearby building, and, as he saw the car begin to move, he leaped to the gates and opened them. then he swung aboard and joined the two boys on the top of the car. carew had telephoned to the freight yard as soon as he knew the men were locked in the car, and by the time it rolled into the freight yard and came to a stop on the level section of track there a score of men stood ready to capture the strikers as they emerged. the regular police were not on hand, but captain haskin, and some of his railroad detectives, well armed, were ready and waiting, and they were so strong that there was no chance for ed willis and his chum to make a successful rush. "surrender, you two!" cried haskin, as the door was opened. "don't attempt to escape or make any trouble, or you'll be riddled with bullets. we've got you covered!" "don't shoot, boss! we'll come down!" big ed willis, all the bluff stripped from him, so that his real cowardice was exposed, was the speaker. his tone trembled and terror filled him. he crawled out abjectly, and held up his hands for the handcuffs which haskin at once fitted on. "you're a fine sort of a low hound!" exclaimed the other. "i thought you were a man, willis, when you proposed this game. i'd never have gone in with you if i'd thought you were going to quit cold this way." but he saw that he could do nothing, single-handed, against such a show of force as haskin and his men made, and he, too, came out of the car and surrendered. haskin whipped the handkerchief from his face, and jack, with a cry of surprise, saw that he knew him. it was silas broom--the man of the burning launch. "that's broom, captain haskin--the man that escaped!" "i thought so," said haskin, grimly. "he has some other names, but that will do for the present. you see it didn't do you any good to have that film destroyed, broom!" "i didn't do that," cried broom. "so help me, i didn't!" "i never said you did, did i?" asked haskin, with a smile that wasn't pleasant to see. "better wait until you're accused of a crime next time before you're so ready to deny it. the cap seemed to fit you when i threw it." broom, snarling, turned on jack then. "it's you, is it, you young whelp?" he gritted. "i might have guessed it. it's a pity i didn't smash your brains out the other day when i had you in my power. you're the one that's been in the way every time we've turned a trick for the last two weeks. but we'll get you yet--be sure of that!" "never mind him, jack," said pete. "he talks mighty big, but he can't do anything to you. every time they've tried it, they've got into pretty serious trouble. i guess they'll learn to let you alone before long. if they don't, they'll all be in jail anyhow, won't they, captain haskin?" "it looks that way, my boy," said the detective. "take these fellows off, men. turn them over to the police at headquarters. tell them that mr. simms and the railroad will both make a complaint. the federal marshal will be after them, too, for trying to transport dynamite on a railroad car. that's a very serious offense nowadays, under the interstate commerce law." chapter xvi off on a long hike jack and pete, with a week's vacation on their hands, were puzzled as to what they should do. but dick crawford, anxious to get jack away from the city for a time, until things should blow over, suggested a plan. "i heard from jim burroughs the other day," he said. "you remember jim, the fellow that is engaged to miss benton, up at eagle lake?" "sure--she's chris benton's sister," said pete stubbs. dick smiled. "you'll get over thinking about girls as some fellows' sisters when you get a little older, pete," he said. "then you'll remember that the fellows you know are girls' brothers. anyhow, jim says they're all up in camp there again, and they were asking me if some of the scouts couldn't go up there to see them. why don't you make a long hike and go up there? you could tramp it in two days, easily enough, and the weather's just right for a hike like that." "say, i think that would be fine!" cried pete. "let's do it, jack, shall we?" "i'd like to, if i thought we wouldn't be in the way," said jack, his eyes lighting. "you won't be in the way," said dick. "i know they'd be glad to see you. come on over to scout headquarters and we'll see what we've got in the way of equipment for your hike." at headquarters they found everything they needed. they made up a couple of packs for each them to carry, with a frying-pan, a coffee pot, and the other cooking utensils necessary for their two days in the open, since they would cook their own meals and travel exactly as if they were in a hostile country, where they could expect no aid from those whose houses they passed. "let's take sleeping bags instead of a tent," said jack. "i think it's much better fun to sleep that way. the weather seems likely to be good, and, anyhow, if it gets very bad, we can find some sort of shelter. they're a lot easier to carry, too." scout-master durland, when he heard of the plan, approved it heartily. they planned to ride for the first twenty miles of their journey by trolley, since that would take them out into the real country and beyond the suburbs, where there were many paved streets, which were anything but ideal for tramping. "now we're really off, jack," cried pete, as they stepped off the car the next morning. they had taken the car on its first trip, and it was but little after seven o'clock when they finally reached the open road and started off at a good round pace. "it's fine to travel on a regular schedule," said pete. "now we don't have to hurry. we know just when we ought to reach every place we're coming to, and how long we can stay. that's much better than just going off for a long walk." "sure it is! it's systematic, and it pays just as well to be systematic when you're starting out to have a good time as it does when you're at work. i've found that out." "i never used to think so. when i first went to work i hated having to do everything according to rules. but now i know that it's the only way to get things done on time. the work's been much easier at the office since we began doing everything that way." "look at our scout camps, pete. if we didn't do things according to a system we'd never get through with the work. as it is, we all know just what to do, and just how to do it. so it takes only about half as long to cook meals and clean up after them, and we have lots more time for games and trailing and swimming and things like that. it surely does pay." "gee, i hope it doesn't rain, jack. it would be too bad if we had to run into a storm after having good weather all this time when we were at work." "i don't believe it's going to rain. but it ought to, really, and it seems selfish to wish for dry weather when the country needs rain so badly." "it's been a mighty dry summer, hasn't it, jack?" "yes. these fires in the forests around here show that. they started much earlier than they usually do. as a rule october is the time for the worst fires." "they seem to be pretty well out around here, though." "that's because there are so many people to keep them under. but up in the big woods, where we're going, they're likely to have bad ones, when they start. you see a fire can get going pretty well up there before anyone discovers it, and then it's the hardest sort of work to stop it before it's done an awful lot of damage." "how do those fires in the woods start, jack?" "that's pretty hard to say, pete. careless campers start a whole lot of them. they build fires, and just leave them going when they get through. then the sparks begin to fly, and the fire spreads." "they ought to be arrested!" "they are, if anyone can prove that they really did start the fire. but that's pretty hard to do." "don't the fires start other ways, too?" "you bet they do! sometimes the sparks from an engine will set the dry leaves on the ground on fire, and, if there happens to be a wind, that will start the biggest sort of a fire." "isn't there any way to prevent that?" "yes--but it's expensive and difficult. but gradually they're giving up the coal engines in the woods, and use oil burners instead. there are no sparks and hot cinders to drop from an oil burning engine, you see, and it makes it much safer and cleaner, as well." "how about when a fire just starts? that happens sometimes, doesn't it?" "yes, and that's the hardest sort of a fire of all to control or to find. sometimes, when the leaves and branches get all wet, they will get terribly hot when the sun blazes down on them. then, because they're wet, some sort of a gas develops, and the fire starts with what they call spontaneous combustion." "they have a fire patrol in some places, don't they?" "yes, and they ought to have one wherever there are woods. out west the government forest service keeps men who do nothing all day long but keep on the lookout for fires. up on the high peaks they have signal stations, with semaphores and telephone wires, and men with telescopes who look out all day long for the first sign of smoke." "i think that must be a great life. they call them forest rangers, don't they?" "yes. and it is a great job. those fellows have to know all the different trees by sight. they have to be able to plant new trees, and cut down others when the trees need to be thinned out. forestry is a science now, and they're teaching it in the colleges. an awful lot of our forests have been wasted altogether." "they'll grow again, won't they, jack?" "y-e-s. they will if the work is done properly. but you see those great big mills, that use up thousands of feet of timber every season--even millions--don't stop to cut with an idea of reforestation. they just chop and chop and chop, and when they've cut all the timber they can, they move on to another section, where they start in and do it all over again. i'm working to get a conservation badge, you know. that's how i've happened to read about all these things." "i'm going to try to get a conservation badge, too, jack. i can start working for it as soon as i'm a first-class scout, can't i?" "yes. and this hike will be one of your tests for your first-class badge, too. you're only supposed to have to go seven miles, and we'll make a whole lot more than that. how about your other qualifications? coming along all right with them?" "yes, indeed. i think i can qualify in a couple of weeks." "that's fine, pete! you know i enlisted you, and a scout is judged partly by the sort of recruits he brings into the troop. they'll never have a chance to blame me for enlisting you if you keep on the way you've begun." they were going along at a good pace all this time, not too fast, but swinging steadily along. the road did not seem long, because their hard, young bodies were used to exercise, and they took the walking as a matter of course. "they'll be expecting us up at the bentons, won't they, jack?" "dick crawford said he would write and let jim burroughs know we were coming, pete. so i guess they'll be on the lookout all right." "do you remember the night we got to the lake, and jim burroughs and miss benton were lost in the woods?" "i certainly do! they would have had a bad night of it if we hadn't found them, i'm afraid. but all's well that ends well. it didn't hurt them at all, as it turned out, and i guess it taught them both to be more careful about going out in woods when they weren't sure of the trail." "gee, jack, i could have got lost myself then. i didn't know how to travel by the stars, and i wasn't any too sure how to use a compass." they had traveled more than half the distance when they picked out a sleeping place that night. they went to a farmer's house, and when he found that all they wanted was permission to camp in his wood lot, and to make a fire there, he told them they could do as they liked. he invited them to spend the night in the house, too, but they told him they preferred to sleep out-of-doors, and, laughing at them, he consented. they were off at five in the morning, and at noon, when they built a fire and cooked their dinner, they could see the wooded crests of the hills that were their destination rising before them. "look at that haze, jack," said pete. "that isn't a storm, is it, coming along?" "i don't think so, pete. i don't like the looks of it. it looks to me more like smoke, from a woods fire. i've been thinking i smelled smoke for some time, too." "could you smell it as far as this?" "smoke from a big forest fire sometimes travels for two or three hundred miles, if the wind's right, pete. in the city, even, in the fall, there will be smoky days, though there isn't a forest fire of any sort for a good many miles." "i suppose that's because the wood smoke is so thick." the further they traveled, the thicker grew the smoke. there could no longer be any mistake about it. the woods in front of them were well alight. "i only hope the fire doesn't reach eagle lake," said jack. chapter xvi a timely warning it was nearly dark when they finally arrived at the lake. chris benton and jim burroughs were waiting for them at the landing with a couple of canoes, and they were soon skimming over the placid waters of the lake to the benton camp. "this smoke's pretty thick here," said jack. "the woods are on fire all around us," said chris. "that's the trouble," said jim burroughs. "the summer's been mighty dry. see how low the lake is. a lot of the streams around here have dried up. this lake is partly spring fed, and it doesn't depend altogether on the little brooks that flow into it. otherwise i'm afraid this wouldn't be much of a place just now." "is there any danger of the fire coming this way, jim?" asked jack. "not a bit, jack. the wind's the other way, and if it shifts it's certain to bring rain with it and put the fire out, anyhow. it would take a good, strong, east wind to blow the fire over this way, and that would mean a regular rain storm, sure. so we're safe enough here. fires never have reached eagle lake." "i'm glad of that. it would be a shame to have any fire here. it might burn up the camps, you know, and that would be a pity." "it sure would! but i guess we're safe enough here. the guides all say so, and they ought to know, certainly. they've lived in the woods most of their lives, from what they say, and they don't seem to think that there's any danger at all." "they certainly ought to know," agreed jack. "they know more than we do, anyhow. that's a sure thing." the two scouts were pretty well tired out from their long hike, and they enjoyed their comfortable beds that night. it was warm, and even though the air was full of smoke, it was strong and bracing. so they awoke in the morning refreshed and full of life, and, when chris hailed them, they joined him with a will in a plunge into the chilly water of the lake. "how far away is the fire, jim?" jack asked, after breakfast. "two or three miles to the west, i guess," said jim, carelessly. "it won't come any nearer, either, jack." "i think i'll go take a look at it," said jack. "coming, pete and chris?" "sure we are!" they cried. their eyes smarted, and their throats were parched as they made their way toward the burning timber, but they didn't mind such small discomforts, and soon jack had a chance to see a real woods fire burning at its height. "this is the real thing, pete," he said, when they got a good look at the fire from the ridge where they had found bess benton on the first night they had been at eagle lake, some weeks earlier. "gee," said pete, "i thought that fire we helped to stop near the city was big enough, but this beats it all hollow, doesn't it, jack?" "come on!" said jack, with sudden determination. "this isn't safe, no matter what the guides say. if the wind changes this fire would sweep right down to the edge of the lake. a little rain wouldn't make any impression on it at all." jack, once his mind was made up, wasn't afraid of ridicule or anything else. he went back to camp, and sought out mr. benton. "i think that fire's mighty dangerous, mr. benton," he said. "i know the guides say you're perfectly safe here, but i've lived in a place where they had big woods fires nearly every year, and this is the biggest fire i ever saw. it would take a week's soaking rain to stop it, and if the wind turns to the east, even if it does bring some rain, it will turn that fire straight for the lake here, and burn up everything it meets on the way." "what would you advise, jack?" asked mr. benton. there was a twinkle in his eye, for he thought the guides knew more than jack, but he wanted to humor the scout, who stood very high in his estimation. "i'd dig a deep, broad ditch, and fill it with water. i'd make it at least five feet deep, and ten or twelve feet broad, mr. benton. that would give us a chance to keep the fire from reaching the buildings here. there's still some water in that brook that runs down from the ridge, though there won't be very long, and you could divert that into the ditch, and then dam the ditch at the lake, so that you'd have quite a little pond behind the houses on the side nearest the fire. if you could get half a dozen men they could dig a ditch like that, roughly, in a day. and i'd certainly do it, sir!" mr. benton was impressed, despite himself, by jack's earnestness. his camp had cost him nearly ten thousand dollars, and practically nothing would survive the fire if it should sweep over it. so, after a little thought, and not heeding the laughter of jim burroughs and the guides, he decided to take jack's advice. the guides, pressed into service for the digging of the ditch, thought that the task was foolish. they grumbled at having to do it, but they had no choice but to obey, once mr. benton had given the order. and before they were half done, the wind, which had died away completely, began to come again in short puffs from the east. "that means rain," said jim. "jack, you young rascal, i believe you started this scare just to see us all work!" "i've known the wind to blow from the northeast for a whole day before the rain came," said jack, "especially at this time of the year." the fire was a mile nearer the camp when the ditch was finished. it wasn't much of a ditch, and it wouldn't last very long, but looking it over, jack decided that it was much better than nothing. and it held the water, at least, which was the most important thing. as the wind continued to come from the east, without a sign of the hoped for rain, mr. benton looked very grave. "i think you've saved us from a real disaster by your insistence, jack," he said. "i'm certainly glad that we took your advice." the roaring of the fire could be plainly heard now. the smoke was so thick that all of them went around with wet cloths tied over their mouths, and smoked glasses to protect their eyes. even the guides looked serious, and seemed to have a new and greater respect for jack danby and the precaution he had forced them to take. "never saw nothin' like this," said one of them. "never in all the years i've been in the woods. the youngster sure do know a fire when he sees it." "i'm sorry i laughed at you, jack, old man," said jim burroughs, choking as he spoke. "you certainly had the right dope on this fire. gosh, listen to it roaring back there!" the ditch was in the form of a rough half circle, and went completely around the benton clearing. it was dug so that the brook from the ridge ran into it and filled it, and a space of a foot or so was left untouched at each end of it where it reached the lake. this made a natural dam, and held the water in, so that, as the brook continued to flow in, a small pond was formed behind the clearing, just as dick had suggested. that made a wide space for the fire to leap, and jack felt that, even if the fire swept completely around his ditch, the men in the clearing, by constant vigilance, would be able to beat out any sparks and flying embers that might otherwise have set fire to the buildings. but, as a further precaution, the boats of the camp, with water and provisions, were kept ready, so that the family might take to the lake if the need arose. "gee," said pete, suddenly after nightfall, "we forgot the stuff at camp simms, jack!" "so we did!" cried jack. "well, there's time enough yet. the fire will burn right over the camp site there, but it's better cleared than this, and there won't be much damage if we take the stuff from the shack and bring it all over here. we can't save the shack, but that can be built up again in a hurry after the fire's all over. come on!" they told the others what they planned to do, and jim burroughs volunteered to go with them and help them. in an hour they had brought everything portable from camp simms to the benton camp, which was not very far away, and then they felt that they had taken every possible precaution. there was nothing more to do after that but wait on the fire. it could not be hurried, and, so great had it become, it could not be delayed or checked by any human agency. there was no question in the mind of any of them now of the wisdom of jack's fears. had it not been for the ditch, they admitted, they could not have done anything to save the camp. "there'll be no sleep for any of us to-night," said mr. benton. "we'll have to be ready when it gets near enough to keep it from jumping the ditch and the pond. there's nothing else to stop it, certainly." the guides were on watch, beyond the water, like pickets, and before long they were driven in by the advancing fire. the heat was terrific, and, under mr. benton's direction, lines of hose were laid to the lake, and with the windmill that pumped fresh water to give pressure, the hose was played constantly on the roofs and walls of the buildings of the camp, to make it harder for flying sparks to set them afire. there was plenty of hose, and as the fire advanced jack was thankful for that. water was better than branches and sticks for beating out any fire that leaped the water wall, and the hose was easier to handle, too. soon after eleven great drops of water began to fall, and then there was a steady downpour of rain. "there's your rain, at last, jim," said jack. "you can see how much effect it has. it's like pouring water from a flower pot down a volcano and hoping to put it out. the fire doesn't even know it's raining!" "i guess you're right, jack," said jim. "don't rub it in, though. i'll admit that you saved the situation by making us do what you wanted." now began the real fight with the fire. roaring, bellowing, furious in its onslaught, it swept all about the ditch that held it from its prey. it seemed maddened with rage at the obstacle that man had opposed to its conquering rush, and, raging, it flung sparks and flaming embers at the defenders of the camp. for two hours they worked, looking, through the light of the lurid flames, like fiends. their faces were blackened by the smoke, but they never ceased their efforts. buckets of water were placed all about the clearing, and into these they plunged the cloths that they kept over their faces. other buckets of barley water, with dippers, were also there, and when there was a chance for a moment's pause, they drank deep draughts of the most cooling and refreshing drink that man has yet devised. barley water with a little lemon juice did more to moisten parched throats and mouths than the most elaborate drink could have done. it was food and drink alike. the rain came down to help them all this time, pouring a great volume of water on the fire. and, after about two hours of fighting, the fire was beaten. it had burned over the whole section near the camp. the lake stopped it, and the fire, growling and angry, died away because there was nothing else for it to burn. but the vigil lasted all night. morning saw camp benton standing like an oasis in a desert of blackened trees and stumps. the whole side of the lake was a wilderness. but the camp, thanks to the boy scout fire fighters, was saved. "you're certainly welcome guests!" said mr. benton. "thanks to you, we still have the camp. the trees will grow again. and now i think we can all go to sleep for about twenty-four hours." _the braden books_ far past the frontier. by james a. braden the sub-title "two boy pioneers" indicates the nature of this story--that it has to do with the days when the ohio valley and the northwest country were sparsely settled. such a topic is an unfailing fund of interest to boys, especially when involving a couple of stalwart young men who leave the east to make their fortunes and to incur untold dangers. "strong, vigorous, healthy, manly."--_seattle times_. connecticut boys in the western reserve by james a. braden the author once more sends his heroes toward the setting sun. "in all the glowing enthusiasm of youth, the youngsters seek their fortunes in the great, fertile wilderness of northern ohio, and eventually achieve fair success, though their progress is hindered and sometimes halted by adventures innumerable. it is a lively, wholesome tale, never dull, and absorbing in interest for boys who love the fabled life of the frontier."--chicago tribune. the trail of the seneca by james a. braden in which we follow the romantic careers of john jerome and return kingdom a little farther. these two self-reliant boys are living peaceably in their cabin on the cuyahoga when an indian warrior is found dead in the woods nearby. the seneca accuses john of witchcraft. this means death at the stake if he is captured. they decide that the seneca's charge is made to shield himself, and set out to prove it. mad anthony, then on the ohio, comes to their aid, but all their efforts prove futile and the lone cabin is found in ashes on their return. captives three by james a. braden a tale of frontier life, and how three children--two boys and a girl--attempt to reach the settlements in a canoe, but are captured by the indians. a common enough occurrence in the days of our great-grandfathers has been woven into a thrilling story. the saalfield publishing co, akron, ohio the boy scout series the boy scouts in camp the boy scouts to the rescue the boy scouts on the trail the boy scout fire-fighters the boy scouts afloat the boy scout pathfinders the boy scout automobilists the boy scout aviators the boy scouts' champion recruit the boy scouts' defiance the boy scouts' challenge the boy scouts' victory transcriber's note: page numbers in this book are indicated by numbers enclosed in curly braces, e.g. { }. they have been located where page breaks occurred in the original book. descriptions of illustrations are indented to distinguish them from the running text. the "next" page immediately preceding or following a group of illustrations may jump to account for the pages occupied by the illustrations. italic are enclosed in underscores: _this is italicized_. some suggestions that have serious consequences are noted (e.g., use lead acetate to waterproof a tent). numerous untitled or otherwise ambiguous illustrations are described and annotated with (tr)--transcriber. end transcriber's note. boy scouts handbook _the first edition, _ [illustration: boy scouts at camp. (tr)] boy scouts of america boy scouts of america official national out sigmund eisner new york salesrooms fifth avenue red bank. n. j. [illustration: two boy scouts in full uniform. (tr)] each part of the uniform is stamped with the official seal of the boy scouts of america. if there is no agency for the official uniform in your city write for samples. sigmund eisner manufacturer of u. s. army and national guard uniform the best food for the boy scouts is [illustration: cereal bowl. (tr)] shredded wheat because it has all the muscle-building, bone-making material in the whole wheat grain prepared in a digestible form, supplying all the strength needed for work or play. it is ready-cooked and ready-to-eat. it has the greatest amount of body-building nutriment in smallest bulk. its crispness compels thorough mastication, and the more you chew it the better you like it. shredded wheat is the favorite food of athletes. it is on the training table of nearly every college and university in this country. the records show that the winners of many brilliant rowing and track events have been trained on shredded wheat. _the biscuit is in little loaf form. it is baked a crisp, golden brown. it is eaten with milk or cream, or fruit, or is delicious when eaten as a toast with butter. triscuit is the shredded wheat wafer---the ideal food for the camp or the long tramp_. _building buster boys is bully business--that's the reason we want to help the boy scout movement_. the shredded wheat company niagara falls, n. y. [illustration: getting the final word before hiking.] boy scouts of america the official handbook for boys [illustration: first class scout emblem. (tr)] _published for_ the boy scouts of america fifth avenue new york garden city, new york doubleday, page & company copyright by boy scouts of america boy scout certificate this is to certify that _________ of ___________ state of _________ street and city or town address age_____ height_____ weigh_____ is a member of ________ patrol, of troop no. _____ ________________ scout master scout history qualified as tenderfoot ________ _ second class scout _________ _ first class scout _______ _ qualified for merit badges subject date ________________ ________________ ________________ ________________ ________________ ________________ ________________ ________________ ________________ ________________ qualified as life scout ________________ qualified as star scout ________________ qualified as eagle scout ________________ awarded honor medal ________________ {v} preface the boy scout movement has become almost universal, and wherever organized its leaders are glad, as we are, to acknowledge the debt we all owe to lieut.-gen. sir robert s. s. baden-powell, who has done so much to make the movement of interest to boys of all nations. the boy scouts of america is a corporation formed by a group of men who are anxious that the boys of america should come under the influence of this movement and be built up in all that goes to make character and good citizenship. the affairs of the organization are managed by a national council, composed of some of the most prominent men of our country, who gladly and freely give their time and money that this purpose may be accomplished. in the various cities, towns, and villages, the welfare of the boy scouts is cared for by local councils, and these councils, like the national council are composed of men who are seeking for the boys of the community the very best things. in order that the work of the boy scouts throughout america may be uniform and intelligent, the national council has prepared its "official handbook," the purpose of which is to furnish to the patrols of the boy scouts advice in practical methods, as well as inspiring information. the work of preparing this handbook has enlisted the services of men eminently fitted for such work, for each is an expert in his own department, and the editorial board feels that the organization is to be congratulated in that such men have been found willing to give their time and ripe experience to this movement. it would be impossible adequately to thank all who by advice and friendly criticism have helped in the preparation of the book, or even to mention their names, but to the authors whose names are attached to the various chapters, we acknowledge an especial obligation. without their friendly help this book could not be. we wish especially to express our appreciation of the helpful suggestions made by daniel carter beard. we have carefully examined and approved all the material which goes to make up {vi} the manual, and have tried to make it as complete as possible; nevertheless, no one can be more conscious than we are of the difficulty of providing a book which will meet all the demands of such widely scattered patrols with such varied interests. we have constantly kept in mind the evils that confront the boys of our country and have struck at them by fostering better things. our hope is that the information needed for successful work with boy scouts will be found within the pages of this book. in these pages and throughout our organization we have made it obligatory upon our scouts that they cultivate courage, loyalty, patriotism, brotherliness, self-control, courtesy, kindness to animals, usefulness, cheerfulness, cleanliness, thrift, purity and honor. no one can doubt that with such training added to his native gifts, the american boy will in the near future, as a man, be an efficient leader in the paths of civilization and peace. it has been deemed wise to publish all material especially for the aid of scout masters in a separate volume to be known as "the scout masters' manual." we send out our "official handbook," therefore, with the earnest wish that many boys may find in it new methods for the proper use of their leisure time and fresh inspiration in their efforts to make their hours of recreation contribute to strong, noble manhood in the days to come. the boy scouts of america editorial board. william d. murray george d. pratt, a. a. jameson, {vii} officers and members of the national council boy scouts of america the fifth avenue building, fifth avenue new york city honorary president the hon. william h. taft honorary vice-president colonel theodore roosevelt president colin h. livingstone, washington, d. c. st vice-president b. l. dulaney, bristol, tenn. d vice-president milton a. mcrae, detroit, mich. d vice-president david starr jordan, stanford, ca. chief scout ernest thompson seton, cos cob, conn. national scout commissioner daniel carter beard, flushing, l. i., n.y. national scout commissioner adj.-gen. william verbeck, albany, n.y. national scout commissioner colonel peter s. bomus, new york city treasurer george d. pratt, brooklyn, n. y. members of the executive board colin h. livingstone, chairman daniel carter beard milton a. mcrae mortimer l. schiff col. peter s. bomus william d. murray ernest thompson seton b. l. dulaney george d. pratt seth sprague terry lee f. hanmer frank presbrey adj.-gen. william verbeck george w. hinckley edgar m. robinson james e. west, executive secretary members of national council charles conrad abbott arthur adams dr. felix adler harry a. allison henry morrell atkinson b. n. baker ray stannard baker evelyn briggs baldwin clifford w. barnes daniel carter beard henry m. beardsley martin behrman august belmont ernest p. bicknell {viii} edward bok colonel peter s. bomus hon. charles j. bonaparte william d. boyce h. s. braucher roeliff brinkerhoff dr. elmer e. brown luther burbank dr. richard c. cabot rev. s. parkes cadman arthur a. carey e. c. carter richard b. carter w. d. champlin thomas chew winston churchill g. a. clark p. p. claxton randall j. condon c. m. connolly ernest k. coulter dr. c. ward crampton george h. dalrymple dr. george s. davis e. b. degroot judge william h. de lacy william c. demorest dr. edward t. devine admiral george dewey gov. john a. diz myron e. douglas benjamin l. dulaney hon. t. c. du pont dr. george w. ehler griffith ogden ellis robert erskine ely henry p. emerson hon. john j. esch j. w. everman eberhard faber dr. george j. fisher horace fletcher homer folks dr. william byron forbush dr. lee k. frankel robert ives gammell hon. james r. garfield hamlin garland robert garrett william h. gay bishop david h. greer jesse a. gregg george b. grinnell s. r. guggenheim luther halsey gulick, m. d. dr. g. stanley hall dr. winfield scott hall lee f. hanmer dr. hastings h. hart hon. w. m. hays prof. c. r. henderson clark w. hetherington george w. hinckley allen hoben hon. r. p. hobson rev. r. w. hogue john sherman hoyt c. r. h. jackson prof. jeremiah w. jenks g. e. johnson dr. david starr jordan mayor william s. jordan otto herman kahn dr. william j. kerby charles h. kip dr. j. h. kirkland judge henry e. klamroth rev. walter laidlow charles r. lamb joseph lee samuel mcc. lindsay judge ben b. lindsey colin h. livingstone col. frank l. locke hon. nicholas longworth hon. frank o. lowden hon. lee mcclung william mccormick {ix} hon. henry b. f. macfarland j. horace mcfarland c. w. mckee hon. william b. mckinley j. s. mclain francis h. mclean milton a. mcrae charles g. maphis george w. manton edgar s. martin frank s. mason frank lincoln masseck dr. william h. maxwell lieut.-gen. nelson a. miles john f. moore arthur c. moses william d. murray dr. cyrus northrop frank w. ober hon. c. s. page dr. c. h. parkhurst hon. herbert parsons hon. gifford pinchot david r. porter george d. porter perry edwards powell frederic b. pratt george d. pratt frank presbrey g. barrett rich, jr. jacob a. riis clarence c. robinson edgar m. robinson colonel theodore roosevelt lincoln e. rowley oliver j. sands dr. d. a. sargent henry b. sawyer mortimer l. schiff charles scribner george l. sehon rear admiral thomas oliver selfridge jefferson seligman jesse seligman ernest thompson seton samuel shuman rear admiral charles dwight sigsbee william f. slocum fred. b. smith hon. george otis smith lorillard spencer lorillard spencer, jr. judge william h. staake hon. adlai stevenson andrew stevenson a. e. stilwell c. h. stoddard rev. john timothy stone, d.d. isidor straus hon. oscar s. straus josiah strong hon. william h. taft edward k. taylor graham romeyn taylor judge harry l. taylor william l. terhune seth sprague terry john e. thayer rev. james i. vance dr. henry van dyke adj. gen. william verbeck john wanamaker henry l. ward lucien t. warner richard benedict watrous rear admiral j. c. watson w. d. weatherford dr. benjamin ide wheeler eli whitney mornay williams gen. george w. wingate a. e. winship henry rogers winthrop major-gen. leonard wood surgeon-gen. walter wyman major andrew c. zabriskie {x} a message from the chief scout to the boy scouts of america: there was once a boy who lived in a region of rough farms. he was wild with the love of the green outdoors--the trees, the tree-top singers, the wood-herbs and the live things that left their nightly tracks in the mud by his spring well. he wished so much to know them and learn about them, he would have given almost any price in his gift to know the name of this or that wonderful bird, or brilliant flower; he used to tremble with excitement and intensity of interest when some new bird was seen, or when some strange song came from the trees to thrill him with its power or vex him with its mystery, and he had a sad sense of lost opportunity when it flew away leaving him dark as ever. but he was alone and helpless, he had neither book nor friend to guide him, and he grew up with a kind of knowledge hunger in his heart that gnawed without ceasing. but this also it did: it inspired him with the hope that some day he might be the means of saving others from this sort of torment--he would aim to furnish to them what had been denied to himself. there were other things in the green and living world that had a binding charm for him. he wanted to learn to camp out, to live again the life of his hunter grandfather who knew all the tricks of winning comfort from the relentless wilderness the foster-mother so rude to those who fear her, so kind to the stout of heart. and he had yet another hankering--he loved the touch of romance. when he first found fenimore cooper's books, he drank them in as one parched might drink at a spring. he reveled in the tales of courage and heroic deeds, he gloated over records of their trailing and scouting by red man and white; he gloried in their woodcraft, and lived it all in imagination, secretly blaming the writer, a little, for praising without describing it so it could be followed. "some day," he said, "i shall put it all down for other boys to learn." as years went by he found that there were books about most of the things he wished to know, the stars, the birds, the {xi} quadrupeds, the fish, the insects, the plants, telling their names; their hidden power or curious ways, about the camper's life the language of signs and even some of the secrets of the trail. but they were very expensive and a whole library would be needed to cover the ground. what he wanted--what every boy wants--is a handbook giving the broad facts as one sees them in the week-end hike, the open-air life. he did not want to know the trees as a botanist, but as a forester; nor the stars as an astronomer, but as a traveler. his interest in the animals was less that of anatomist than of a hunter and camper, and his craving for light on the insects was one to be met by a popular book on bugs, rather than by a learned treatise on entomology. so knowing the want he made many attempts to gather the simple facts together exactly to meet the need of other boys of like ideas, and finding it a mighty task he gladly enlisted the help of men who had lived and felt as he did. young scouts of america that boy is writing to you now. he thought himself peculiar in those days. he knows now he was simply a normal boy with the interests and desires of all normal boys, some of them a little deeper rooted and more lasting perhaps--and all the things that he loved and wished to learn have now part in the big broad work we call scouting. "scout" used to mean the one on watch for the rest. we have widened the word a little. we have made it fit the town as well as the wilderness and suited it to peace time instead of war. we have made the scout an expert in life-craft as well as wood-craft, for he is trained in the things of the heart as well as head and hand. scouting we have made to cover riding, swimming, tramping, trailing, photography, first aid, camping, handicraft, loyalty, obedience, courtesy, thrift, courage, and kindness. do these things appeal to you? do you love the woods? do you wish to learn the trees as the forester knows them? and the stars not as an astronomer, but as a traveler? do you wish to have all-round, well-developed muscles, not those of a great athlete, but those of a sound body that will not fail you? would you like to be an expert camper who can always make himself comfortable out of doors, and a swimmer that fears no waters? do you desire the knowledge to help the wounded quickly, and to make yourself cool and self-reliant in an emergency? do you believe in loyalty, courage, and kindness? would {xii} you like to form habits that will surely make your success in life? then, whether you be farm boy or shoe clerk, newsboy or millionaire's son, your place is in our ranks, for these are the thoughts in scouting; it will help you to do better work with your pigs, your shoes, your papers, or your dollars; it will give you new pleasures in life; it will teach you so much of the outdoor world that you wish to know; and this handbook, the work of many men, each a leader in his field, is their best effort to show you the way. this is, indeed, the book that i so longed for, in those far-off days when i wandered, heart hungry in the woods. ernest thompson seton, chief scout. headquarters boy scouts of america, fifth avenue, new york city. june , . {xiii} contents page boy scout certificate iii preface v officers and members of the national council vii chapter i. scoutcraft aim of scout movement john l. alexander what scouting means john l. alexander scout virtues john l. alexander the boy scout organization special committee scout oath special committee scout law special committee tenderfoot, second class, and first class scout requirements special committee badges, awards and equipment special committee knots every scout should know. samuel a. moffat chapter ii. woodcraft woodlore ernest thompson seton birdcraft national association audubon societies shells and shellfish dr. wm. healey dall reptiles dr. leonhard stejneger insects and butterflies united states bureau of entomology fishes and angling dr. hugh m. smith aquarium dr. wm. leland stowell rocks and pebbles united states geological survey flowers, ferns and grasses dr. l. c. corbett mushrooms, fungi or toadstools ernest thompson seton common north american trees ernest thompson seton native wild animals ernest thompson seton chapter iii. campcraft hiking and over-night camps h. w. gibson tent making made easy h. j. holden an open outing tent warren h. miller canoeing, rowing, and sailing special committee {xiv} chapter iv. tracks, trailing, and signaling ernest thompson seton chapter v. health and endurance george j. fisher, m.d. chapter vi. chivalry john l. alexander chapter vii. first aid and life saving major charles lynch water accidents wilbert e. longfellow chapter viii. games and athletic standards indoor and outdoor games ernest thompson seton athletic standards special committee chapter ix. patriotism and citizenship waldo h. sherman practical citizenship col. theodore roosevelt appendix. equipment books for reference index advertisements handbook for boys { } chapter i scoutcraft _this chapter is the result of the work of the committee on scout oath, scout law, tenderfoot, second-class and first-class requirements; the committee on badges, awards, and equipment; the committee on permanent organization and field supervision, and john l. alexander and samuel a. moffat_. aim of the scout movement _by john l. alexander, boy scouts of america_ the aim of the boy scouts is to supplement the various existing educational agencies, and to promote the ability in boys to do things for themselves and others. it is not the aim to set up a new organization to parallel in its purposes others already established. the opportunity is afforded these organizations, however, to introduce into their programs unique features appealing to interests which are universal among boys. the method is summed up in the term scoutcraft, and is a combination of observation, deduction, and handiness, or the ability to do things. scoutcraft includes instruction in first aid, life saving, tracking, signaling, cycling, nature study, seamanship, campcraft, woodcraft, chivalry, patriotism, and other subjects. this is accomplished in games and team play, and is pleasure, not work, for the boy. all that is needed is the out-of-doors, a group of boys, and a competent leader. what scouting means in all ages there have been scouts, the place of the scout being on the danger line of the army or at the outposts, protecting those of his company who confide in his care. the army scout was the soldier who was chosen out of all the army to go out on the skirmish line. the pioneer, who was out on the edge of the wilderness, { } guarding the men, women, and children in the stockade, was also a scout. should he fall asleep, or lose control of his faculties, or fail on his watch, then the lives of the men, women, and children paid the forfeit, and the scout lost his honor. but there have been other kinds of scouts besides war scouts and frontier scouts. they have been the men of all ages, who have gone out on new and strange adventures, and through their work have benefited the people of the earth. thus, columbus discovered america, the pilgrim fathers founded new england, the early english settlers colonized jamestown, and the dutch built up new york. in the same way the hardy scotch-irish pushed west and made a new home for the american people beyond the alleghanies and the rockies. these peace scouts had to be as well prepared as any war scouts. they had to know scoutcraft. they had to know how to live in the woods, and be able to find their way anywhere, without other chart or compass than the sun and stars, besides being able to interpret the meaning of the slightest signs of the forest and the foot tracks of animals and men. they had to know how to live so as to keep healthy and strong, to face any danger that came their way, and to help one another. these scouts of old were accustomed to take chances with death and they did not hesitate to give up their lives in helping their comrades or country. in fact, they left everything behind them, comfort and peace, in order to push forward into the wilderness beyond. and much of this they did because they felt it to be their duty. these little-known scouts could be multiplied indefinitely by going back into the past ages and reading the histories and stories of the knights of king arthur, of the crusaders, and of the great explorers and navigators of the world. wherever there have been heroes, there have been scouts, and to be a scout means to be prepared to do the right thing at the right moment, no matter what the consequences may be. the way for achievement in big things is the preparing of one's self for doing the big things--by going into training and doing the little things well. it was this characteristic of livingstone, the great explorer, that made him what he was, and that has marked the career of all good scouts. to be a good scout one should know something about the woods and the animals that inhabit them, and how to care for one's self when camping. { } the habits of animals can be studied by stalking them and watching them in their native haunts. the scout should never kill an animal or other living creature needlessly. there is more sport in stalking animals to photograph them, and in coming to know their habits than in hunting to kill. but woodcraft means more than this. it means not only the following of tracks and other signs, but it means to be able to read them. to tell how fast the animal which made the tracks was going; to tell whether he was frightened, suspicious, or otherwise. woodcraft also enables the scout to find his way, no matter where he is. it teaches him the various kinds of wild fruit, roots, nuts, etc., which are good for food, or are the favorite food of animals. [illustration: scout stalking.] by woodcraft a scout may learn a great number of things. he may be able to tell whether the tracks were made by an animal or by man, bicycle, automobile or other vehicle. by having his power of observation trained he can tell by very slight signs, such as the sudden flying of birds, that someone is moving very near him though he may not be able to see the person. { } through woodcraft then, a boy may train his eye, and be able to observe things that otherwise would pass unnoticed. in this way he may be able to save animals from pain, as a horse from an ill-fitting harness. he may also be able to see little things which may give him the clew to great things and so be able to prevent harm and crime. [illustration: horse with head pulled back. (tr)] torture (note the check or bearing-rein) [illustration: horse with head relaxed. (tr)] comfort besides woodcraft one must know something of camp life. one of the chief characteristics of the scout is to be able to live in the open, know how to put up tents, build huts, throw up a lean-to for shelter, or make a dugout in the ground, how to build a fire, how to procure and cook food, how to bind logs together so as to construct bridges and rafts, and how to find his way by night as well as by day in a strange country. living in the open in this way, and making friends of the trees, the streams, the mountains, and the stars, gives a scout a great deal of confidence and makes him love the natural life around him. [illustration: camp loom, for making mats and mattresses.] to be able to tell the difference between the trees by their bark and leaves is a source of pleasure; to be able to make a { } bed out of rough timber, or weave a mattress or mat out of grass to sleep on is a joy. and all of these things a good scout should know. then too, a good scout must be chivalrous. that is, he should be as manly as the knights or pioneers of old. he should be unselfish. he should show courage. he must do his duty. he should show benevolence and thrift. he should be loyal to his country. he should be obedient to his parents, and show respect to those who are his superiors. he should be very courteous to women. one of his obligations is to do a good turn every day to some one. he should be cheerful and seek self-improvement, and should make a career for himself. all these things were characteristics of the old-time american scouts and of the king arthur knights. their honor was sacred. they were courteous and polite to women and children, especially to the aged, protected the weak, and helped others to live better. they taught themselves to be strong, so as to be able to protect their country against enemies. they kept themselves strong and healthy, so that they might be prepared to do all of these things at a moment's notice, and do them well. so the boy scout of to-day must be chivalrous, manly, and gentlemanly. when he gets up in the morning he may tie a knot in his necktie, and leave the necktie outside his vest until he has done a good turn. another way to remind himself is to wear his scout badge reversed until he has done his good turn. the good turn may not be a very big thing--help an old lady across the street; remove a banana skin from the pavement so that people may not fall; remove from streets or roads broken glass, dangerous to automobile or bicycle tires; give water to a thirsty horse; or deeds similar to these. the scout also ought to know how to save life. he ought to be able to make a stretcher; to throw a rope to a drowning person; to drag an unconscious person from a burning building, and to resuscitate a person overcome by gas fumes. he ought also to know the method of stopping runaway horses, and he should have the presence of mind and the skill to calm a panic and deal with street and other accidents. this means also that a boy scout must always be in the pink of condition. a boy cannot do things like these unless he is healthy and strong. therefore, he must be systematically taking exercise, playing games, running, and walking. it means that he must sleep enough hours to give him the necessary strength, and if possible to sleep very much in the open, or at least { } with the windows of his bedroom open both summer and winter. it means also that he should take a cold bath often, rubbing dry with a rough towel. he should breathe through the nose and not through the mouth. he should at all times train himself to endure hardships. in addition to these the scout should be a lover of his country. he should know his country. how many states there are in it, what are its natural resources, scope, and boundaries. he ought to know something of its history, its early settlers, and of the great deeds that won his land. how they settled along the banks of the james river. how philadelphia, new york, and other great cities were founded. how the pilgrim fathers established new england and laid the foundation for our national life. how the scouts of the middle west saved all that great section of the country for the republic. he ought to know how texas became part of the united states, and how our national heroes stretched out their hands, north and south, east and west, to make one great united country. he ought to know the history of the important wars. he ought to know about our army and navy flags and the insignia of rank of our officers. he ought to know the kind of government he lives under, and what it means to live in a republic. he ought to know what is expected of him as a citizen of his state and nation, and what to do to help the people among whom he lives. in short, to be a good scout is to be a well-developed, well-informed boy. scout virtues there are other things which a scout ought to know and which should be characteristic of him, if he is going to be the kind of scout for which the boy scouts of america stand. one of these is obedience. to be a good scout a boy must learn to obey the orders of his patrol leader, scout master, and scout commissioner. he must learn to obey, before he is able to command. he should so learn to discipline and control himself that he will have no thought but to obey the orders of his officers. he should keep such a strong grip on his own life that he will not allow himself to do anything which is ignoble, or which will harm his life or weaken his powers of endurance. another virtue of a scout is that of courtesy. a boy scout { } ought to have a command of polite language. he ought to show that he is a true gentleman by doing little things for others. loyalty is also a scout virtue. a scout ought to be loyal to all to whom he has obligations. he ought to stand up courageously for the truth, for his parents and friends. another scout virtue is self-respect. he ought to refuse to accept gratuities from anyone, unless absolutely necessary. he ought to work for the money he gets. for this same reason he should never look down upon anyone who may be poorer than himself, or envy anyone richer than himself. a scout's self-respect will cause him to value his own standing and make him sympathetic toward others who may be, on the one hand, worse off, or, on the other hand, better off as far as wealth is concerned. scouts know neither a lower nor a higher class, for a scout is one who is a comrade to all and who is ready to share that which he has with others. the most important scout virtue is that of honor. indeed, this is the basis of all scout virtues and is closely allied to that of self-respect. when a scout promises to do a thing on his honor, he is bound to do it. the honor of a scout will not permit of anything but the highest and the best and the manliest. the honor of a scout is a sacred thing, and cannot be lightly set aside or trampled on. faithfulness to duty is another one of the scout virtues. when it is a scout's duty to do something, he dare not shirk. a scout is faithful to his own interest and the interests of others. he is true to his country and his god. another scout virtue is cheerfulness. as the scout law intimates, he must never go about with a sulky air. he must always be bright and smiling, and as the humorist says, "must always see the doughnut and not the hole." a bright face and a cheery word spread like sunshine from one to another. it is the scout's duty to be a sunshine-maker in the world. another scout virtue is that of thoughtfulness, especially to animals; not merely the thoughtfulness that eases a horse from the pain of a badly fitting harness or gives food and drink to an animal that is in need, but also that which keeps a boy from throwing a stone at a cat or tying a tin can on a dog's tail. if a boy scout does not prove his thoughtfulness and friendship for animals, it is quite certain that he never will be really helpful to his comrades or to the men, women, and children who may need his care. { } and then the final and chief test of the scout is the doing of a good turn to somebody every day, quietly and without boasting. this is the proof of the scout. it is practical religion, and a boy honors god best when he helps others most. a boy may wear all the scout uniforms made, all the scout badges ever manufactured, know all the woodcraft, campcraft, scoutcraft and other activities of boy scouts, and yet never be a real boy scout. to be a real boy scout means the doing of a good turn every day with the proper motive and if this be done, the boy has a right to be classed with the great scouts that have been of such service to their country. to accomplish this a scout should observe the scout law. every boy ought to commit to memory the following abbreviated form of the scout law. the twelve points of the scout law . a scout is trustworthy. . a scout is loyal. . a scout is helpful. . a scout is friendly. . a scout is courteous. . a scout is kind. . a scout is obedient. . a scout is cheerful. . a scout is thrifty. . a scout is brave. . a scout is clean. . a scout is reverent. the boy scout organization (result of work of committee on permanent organization and field supervision:--h. s. braucher, chairman. lorillard spencer. jr., colin h. livingstone. richard c. morse. mortimer schiff, dr. george w. ehler, c. m. connolly, e. b. degroot, lee f. hamner.) to do good scouting a boy must understand the organization of which he is a part. the boy scouts of america is promoted and governed by a group of men called the national council. this national council is made up of leading men of the country and it is their desire that every american boy shall have the opportunity of becoming a good scout. the national council holds one meeting annually at which it elects the officers and the members of the executive board. it copyrights badges and other scout designs, arranges for their manufacture and distribution, selects designs for uniforms and scout equipment, issues scout commissioners' and scout masters' certificates, and grants charters for local councils. { } a local council through its officers--president, vice-president, secretary, treasurer, and scout commissioner, its executive committee, court of honor, and other committees--deals with all local matters that relate to scouting. the scout commissioner is the ranking scout master of the local council and presides at all scout masters' meetings as well as at all scout field meets. it is also the duty of the scout commissioner to report to and advise with the chief scout through the executive secretary concerning the scouts in his district. the scout commissioner's certificate is issued from national headquarters upon the recommendation of a local council after this council has been granted a charter. the scout master is the adult leader of a troop, and must be at least twenty-one years of age. he should have a deep interest in boys, be genuine in his own life, have the ability to lead, and command the boys' respect and obedience. he need not be an expert at scoutcraft; a good scout master will discover experts for the various activities. his certificate is granted upon the recommendation of the local council. an assistant scout master should be eighteen years of age or over. his certificate is granted by the national council upon the recommendation of the scout master of his troop and the local council. chief scout and staff the chief scout is elected annually by the national council and has a staff of deputies each of whom is chairman of a committee of scoutcraft. these deputies are as follows: chief scout surgeon. chief scout director of health. chief scout woodsman. chief scout athletic director. chief scout stalker. chief scout citizen. chief scout master. chief scout director of chivalry. chief scout camp master. scouts are graded as follows: chief scout and staff. scout commissioner. scout master. assistant scout master. patrol leader. assistant patrol leader. eagle scout. star scout. life scout. first-class scout. second-class scout. tenderfoot. how to become a boy scout the easiest way to become a boy scout is to join a patrol that has already been started. this patrol may be in { } a sunday school, boys' brigade, boys' club, young men's christian association, young men's hebrew association, young men's catholic association, or any other organization to which you may belong. if there is no patrol near you, get some man interested enough to start one by giving him all the information. a patrol consists of eight boys, one of whom becomes the patrol leader and another the assistant patrol leader. a troop consists of three or more patrols, and the leader of the troop is called a scout master. there can be no patrols or troops of boy scouts without this scout master. the scout motto the motto of the boy scouts is be prepared, and the badge of the boy scouts is a copyrighted design with this motto, "be prepared," on a scroll at its base. the motto, "be prepared," means that the scout is always in a state of readiness in mind and body to do his duty. to be prepared in mind, by having disciplined himself to be obedient, and also by having thought out beforehand any accident or situation that may occur, so that he may know the right thing to do at the right moment, and be willing to do it. to be prepared in body, by making himself strong and active and able to do the right thing at the right moment, and then to do it. the scout badge the scout badge is not intended to represent the fleur-de-lis, or an arrowhead. it is a modified form of the sign of the north on the mariner's compass, which is as old as the history of navigation. the chinese claim its use among them as early as b. c., and we have definite information that it was used at sea by them as early as a. d. marco polo brought the compass to europe on his return from cathay. the sign of the north on the compass gradually came to represent the north, and pioneers, trappers, woodsmen, and scouts, because of this, adopted it as their emblem. through centuries of use it has undergone modification until it has now assumed the shape of our badge. this trefoil badge of the scouts is now used, with slight local variations, in almost every civilized country as the mark of brotherhood, for good citizenship, and friendliness. its scroll is turned up at the ends like a scout's mouth, because he does his duty with a smile and willingly. the knot is to remind the scout to do a good turn to someone daily. { } the arrowhead part is worn by the tenderfoot. the scroll part only is worn by the second-class scout. the badge worn by the first-class scout is the whole badge. the official badges of the boy scouts of america are issued by the national council and may be secured only from the national headquarters. these badges are protected by the u. s. patent laws (letters of patent numbers and ) and anyone infringing these patents is liable to prosecution at law. in order to protect the boy scout movement and those who have qualified to receive badges designating the various degrees in scoutcraft, it is desired that all interested cooperate with the national headquarters in safeguarding the sale and distribution of these badges. this may be done by observing the following rules: . badges should not be ordered until after boys have actually complied with the requirements prescribed by the national council and are entitled to receive them. . all orders for badges should be sent in by the scout master with a certificate from the local council that these requirements have been complied with. blanks for this purpose may be secured on application to the national headquarters. where no local council has been formed, application for badges should be sent direct to headquarters, signed by the registered scout master of the troop, giving his official number. scout commissioners', scout masters', and assistant scout masters' badges can be issued only to those who are registered as such at national headquarters. _tenderfoot badge_--gilt metal. _patrol leader's tenderfoot badge_--oxidized silver finish. these badges are seven eighths of an inch wide and are made either for the button-hole or with safety-pin clasp. price cents. _second-class scout badge_--gilt metal. _patrol leader's second-class scout badge_--oxidized silver. these badges--safety-pin style--to be worn upon the sleeve. price cents. _first-class scout badge_--gilt metal. _patrol leader's first-class scout badge_--oxidized silver. both badges safety-pin style--to be worn upon the sleeve. price cents. _scout commissioner's, scout master's, and assistant scout master's arm badges_. these badges are woven in blue, green, and red silk, and are to be worn on the sleeve of coat or shirt. price cents. { } _buttons_--the official buttons worn on the scout uniforms sell for cents per set for shirt and cents per set for coat. _merit badges_--price cents each. _boy scout certificates_--a handsome certificate in two colors, x inches, has been prepared for boy scouts who wish to have a record of their enrolment. the certificate has the scout oath and law and the official seal upon it, with place for the signature of the scout master. the price is cents. directions for ordering important! when ordering supplies send exact remittance with order, if check is used add new york exchange. make checks and money orders payable to boy scouts of america. all orders received without the proper remittance will be shipped c. o. d., or held until remittance arrives. the scout oath before he becomes a scout a boy must promise: on my honor i will do my best: . to do my duty to god and my country, and to obey the scout law; . to help other people at all times; . to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight. [illustration: hand position. (tr)] when taking this oath the scout will stand, holding up his right hand, palm to the front, thumb resting on the nail of the little finger and the other three fingers upright and together. the scout sign this is the scout sign. the three fingers held up remind him of his three promises in the scout oath. the scout salute when the three fingers thus held are raised to the forehead, it is the scout salute. the scout always salutes an officer. the scout law (result of work of committee on scout oath, scout law, tenderfoot, second-class and first-class scout requirements:--prof. jeremiah w. jenks, chairman. dr. lee k. frankel, george d. porter, e. m. robinson, g. w. hinckley, b. e. johnson, clark w. hetherington, arthur a. carey.) there have always been certain written and unwritten laws regulating the conduct and directing the activities of men. { } we have such unwritten laws coming down from past ages. in japan, the japanese have their bushido or laws of the old samurai warriors. during the middle ages, the chivalry and rules of the knights of king arthur, the knights templar and the crusaders were in force. in aboriginal america, the red indians had their laws of honor: likewise the zulus, hindus, and the later european nations have their ancient codes. the following laws which relate to the boy scouts of america, are the latest and most up to date. these laws a boy promises to obey when he takes his scout oath. . a scout is trustworthy. a scout's honor is to be trusted. if he were to violate his honor by telling a lie, or by cheating, or by not doing exactly a given task, when trusted on his honor, he may be directed to hand over his scout badge. . a scout is loyal. he is loyal to all to whom loyalty is due: his scout leader, his home, and parents and country. . a scout is helpful. he must be prepared at any time to save life, help injured persons, and share the home duties. he must do at least one good turn to somebody every day. . a scout is friendly. he is a friend to all and a brother to every other scout. . a scout is courteous. he is polite to all, especially to women, children, old people, and the weak and helpless. he must not take pay for being helpful or courteous. . a scout is kind. he is a friend to animals. he will not kill nor hurt any living creature needlessly, but will strive to save and protect all harmless life. . a scout is obedient. he obeys his parents, scout master, patrol leader, and all other duly constituted authorities. . a scout is cheerful. he smiles whenever he can. his obedience to orders is prompt and cheery. he never shirks nor grumbles at hardships. . a scout is thrifty. he does not wantonly destroy property. he works faithfully, wastes nothing, and makes the best use of his { } opportunities. he saves his money so that he may pay his own way, be generous to those in need, and helpful to worthy objects. _he may work for pay but must not receive tips for courtesies or good turns_. . a scout is brave. he has the courage to face danger in spite of fear and has to stand up for the right against the coaxings of friends or the jeers or threats of enemies, and defeat does not down him. . a scout is clean. he keeps clean in body and thought, stands for clean speech, clean sport, clean habits, and travels with a clean crowd. . a scout is reverent. he is reverent toward god. he is faithful in his religious duties and respects the convictions of others in matters of custom and religion. the three classes of scouts there are three classes of scouts among the boy scouts of america, the tenderfoot, second-class scout, and first-class scout. before a boy can become a tenderfoot he must qualify for same. a tenderfoot, therefore, is superior to the ordinary boy because of his training. to be a tenderfoot means to occupy the lowest grade in scouting. a tenderfoot on meeting certain requirements may become a second-class scout, and a second-class scout upon meeting another set of requirements may become a first-class scout. the first-class scout may then qualify for the various merit badges which are offered in another part of this chapter for proficiency in scouting. the requirements of the tenderfoot, second-class scout, and first-class scout, are as follows: _tenderfoot_ to become a scout a boy must be at least twelve years of age and must pass a test in the following: . know the scout law, sign, salute, and significance of the badge. . know the composition and history of the national flag and the customary forms of respect due to it. . tie four out of the following knots: square or reef, sheet-bend, bowline, fisherman's, sheepshank, halter, clove hitch, timber hitch, or two half hitches. [illustration: tenderfoot badge. (tr)] tenderfoot { } he then takes the scout oath, is enrolled as a tenderfoot, and is entitled to wear the tenderfoot badge. [illustration: second-class scout badge. (tr)] second-class scout _second-class scout_ to become a second-class scout, a tenderfoot must pass, to the satisfaction of the recognized local scout authorities, the following tests: . at least one month's service as a tenderfoot. . elementary first aid and bandaging; know the general directions for first aid for injuries; know treatment for fainting, shock, fractures, bruises, sprains, injuries in which the skin is broken, burns, and scalds; demonstrate how to carry injured, and the use of the triangular and roller bandages and tourniquet. . elementary signaling: know the semaphore, or american morse, or myer alphabet. . track half a mile in twenty-five minutes; or, if in town, describe satisfactorily the contents of one store window out of four observed for one minute each. . go a mile in twelve minutes at scout's pace--about fifty steps running and fifty walking, alternately. . use properly knife or hatchet. . prove ability to build a fire in the open, using not more than two matches. . cook a quarter of a pound of meat and two potatoes in the open without the ordinary kitchen cooking utensils. . earn and deposit at least one dollar in a public bank. . know the sixteen principal points of the compass. _first-class scout_ to become a first-class scout, the second-class scout must pass the following tests: . swim fifty yards. . earn and deposit at least two dollars in a public bank. . send and receive a message by semaphore, or american morse, or myer alphabet, sixteen letters per minute. . make a round trip alone (or with another scout) to a point { } at least seven miles away, going on foot or rowing boat, and write a satisfactory account of the trip and things observed. . advanced first aid: know the methods for panic prevention; what to do in case of fire and ice, electric and gas accidents; how to help in case of runaway horse, mad dog, or snake bite; treatment for dislocations, unconsciousness, poisoning, fainting, apoplexy, sunstroke, heat exhaustion, and freezing; know treatment for sunburn, ivy poisoning, bites and stings, nosebleed, earache, toothache, inflammation or grit in eye, cramp or stomach ache and chills; demonstrate artificial respiration. . prepare and cook satisfactorily, in the open, without regular kitchen utensils, two of the following articles as may be directed. eggs, bacon, hunter's stew, fish, fowl, game, pancakes, hoe-cake, biscuit, hardtack or a "twist," baked on a stick; explain to another boy the methods followed. . read a map correctly, and draw, from field notes made on the spot, an intelligible rough sketch map, indicating by their proper marks important buildings, roads, trolley lines, main landmarks, principal elevations, etc. point out a compass direction without the help of the compass. . use properly an axe for felling or trimming light timber; or produce an article of carpentry or cabinet-making or metal work made by himself. explain the method followed. . judge distance, size, number, height and weight within per cent. . describe fully from observation ten species of trees or plants, including poison ivy, by their bark, leaves, flowers, fruit, or scent; or six species of wild birds by their plumage, notes, tracks, or habits; or six species of native wild animals by their form, color, call, tracks, or habits; find the north star, and name and describe at least three constellations of stars. . furnish satisfactory evidence that he has put into practice in his daily life the principles of the scout oath and law. . enlist a boy trained by himself in the requirements of a tenderfoot. _note.--no deviation from above requirements will be permitted unless in extraordinary cases, such as physical inability, and the written consent of the national headquarters has been obtained by the recognized local scout authority_. [illustration: first-class scout badge. (tr)] first-class scout { } patrol signs each troop of boy scouts is named after the place to which it belongs. for example, it is troop no. , , , , etc., of new york or chicago. each patrol of the troop is named after an animal or bird, but may be given another kind of name if there is a valid reason. in this way, the twenty-seventh new york troop, for instance, may have several patrols, which may be respectively the ox, wolf, jackal, raven, buffalo, fox, panther, and rattlesnake. [illustration: boy scout in uniform. (tr)] positions of various badges each scout in a patrol has a number, the patrol leader being no. , the assistant patrol leader no. , and the other scouts the remaining consecutive numbers. scouts in this way should { } work in pairs, nos. and together; and together; and. together. { } [illustration: outline of animals. (tr)] mongoose squeak--"cheep" brown and orange hawk cry (same as eagle)--"kreeee" pink wolf howl-"how-oooo" yellow and black peewit whistle-"tewitt" green and white hound bark "bawow-wow" orange cat cry--"meeaow" gray and brown jackal laughing cry-"wahwah-wah-wah-wah." gray and black raven cry-"kar-kaw" black buffalo lowing (same as bull) "um-maouw" red and white peacock cry-"bee-oik" green and blue bull lowing-"um-maouw" red seal call-"hark" red and black owl whistle "koot-koot-koo" blue tiger purr-"grrrao" violet lion roar-"eu-ugh" yellow and red kangaroo call-"coo-ee" red and gray horse whinney-"hee-e-e-e" black and white { } fox bark-"ha-ha" yellow and green bear growl-"boorrr" brown and red stag call-"baow" violet and black stork cry-"korrr" blue and white panther tongue in side of mouth--"keeook" yellow curlew whistle--"curley" green hyena laughing cry-"ooowah-oowah-wah" yellow and brown ram bleat--"ba-a-a" brown wood pigeon call--"book-hooroo" blue and gray eagle very shrill cry--"kreeee" green and black hippo hiss-"brrussssh" pink and black rattlesnake rattle a pebble in a small potted meat tin. wild boar grunt--"broof-broof" gray and pink cobra hiss--"pssst" orange and black cuckoo call--"cook-koo" gray otter cry--"hoi-oi-oick" brown and white beaver slap made by clapping bands blue and yellow { continued} each scout in a patrol should be able to imitate the call of his patrol animal. that is, the scouts of the wolf patrol should be able to imitate a wolf. in this way scouts of the same patrol can communicate with each other when in hiding, or in the dark of night. it is not honorable for a scout to use the call of any other patrol except his own. the patrol leader calls up his patrol at will by sounding his whistle and by giving the call of the patrol. when the scout makes signs anywhere for others to read he also draws the head of his animal. that is to say, if he were out scouting and wanted to show that a certain road should not be followed by others, he would draw the sign, "not to be followed," across it and add the name of his patrol animal, in order to show which patrol discovered that the road was bad, and by adding his own number at the left of the head to show which scout had discovered it. [illustration: outline of animals. (tr)] blue buffalo on white ground flying eagles "yeh-yeh-yeh" black and white on red blue herons "hrrrr" blue and green horned kingbirds sinawa black on red blackbears black on red ahmeeks silver foxes red trailers moon band yellow on blue owneokes blazing arrow each patrol leader carries a small flag on the end of his staff { } or stave with the head of his patrol animal shown on both sides. thus the tigers of the twenty-seventh new york troop should have the flag shown below. [illustration: banner with tiger and " n.y." (tr)] the merit badges (result of work of committee on badges, awards and equipment: dr. george j. fisher, chairman, gen. george w. wingate, dr. c. ward crampton, daniel carter beard. c. m. connolly, a. a. jameson. ernest thompson seton.) when a boy has become a first-class scout he may qualify for the merit badges. _the examination for these badges should be given by the court of honor of the local council. this examination must not be given any boy who is not qualified as a first-class scout. after the boy has passed the examination, the local council may secure the merit badge for him by presenting the facts to the national council. these badges are intended to stimulate the boy's interest in the life about him and are given for general knowledge. the wearing of these badges does not signify that a scout is qualified to make his living by the knowledge gained in securing the award_. scouts winning any of the following badges are entitled to place after their names the insignia of the badges won. for instance, if he has successfully passed the signaling and seamanship tests, he signs his name in this manner-- [illustration: signature of "james e. ward" with insignia. (tr)] { } agriculture [illustration: plow insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for agriculture a scout must . state different tests with grains. . grow at least an acre of corn which produces per cent. better than the general average. . be able to identify and describe common weeds of the community and tell how best to eliminate them. . be able to identify the common insects and tell how best to handle them. . have a practical knowledge of plowing, cultivating, drilling, hedging, and draining. . have a working knowledge of farm machinery, haymaking, reaping, loading, and stacking. . have a general acquaintance of the routine seasonal work on the farm, including the care of cattle, horses, sheep, and pigs. . have a knowledge of campbell's soil culture principle, and a knowledge of dry farming and of irrigation farming. angling [illustration: fish insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for angling a scout must . catch and name ten different species of fish: salmon or trout to be taken with flies; bass, pickerel, or pike to be caught with rod or reel, muskallonge to be caught by trolling. . make a bait rod of three joints, straight and sound, oz. or less in weight, feet or less in length, to stand a strain of - / lbs. at the tip, lbs. at the grip. . make a jointed fly-rod - feet long, - ozs. in weight, capable of casting a fly sixty feet. . name and describe twenty-five different species of fish found in north american waters and give a complete list of the fishes ascertained by himself to inhabit a given body of water. . give the history of the young of any species of wild fish from the time of hatching until the adult stage is reached. archery [illustration: bow and arrow insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for archery a scout must . make a bow and arrow which will shoot a distance of one hundred feet with fair precision. . make a total score of with shots in one or { } two meets, using standard four-foot target at forty yards or three-foot target at thirty yards. . make a total score of with arrows, using standard target at a distance of fifty yards. . shoot so far and fast as to have six arrows in the air at once. architecture [illustration: column and lintel insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for architecture a scout must . present a satisfactory free-hand drawing. . write an essay on the history of architecture and describe the five orders. . submit an original design for a two-story house and tell what material is necessary for its construction, giving detailed specifications. art [illustration: brushes and pallet insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for art a scout must . draw in outline two simple objects, one composed of straight lines, and one of curved lines, the two subjects to be grouped together a little below the eye. . draw in outline two books a little below the eye, one book to be open; also a table or chair. . make in outline an egyptian ornament. . make in outline a greek or renaissance ornament from a cast or copy. . make an original arrangement or design using some detail of ornament. . make a drawing from a group of two objects placed a little below the eye and show light and shade. . draw a cylindrical object and a rectangular object, grouped together a little below the eye, and show light and shade. . present a camp scene in color. astronomy [illustration: star insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for astronomy a scout must . have a general knowledge of the nature and movements of stars. { } . point out and name six principal constellations; find the north by means of other stars than the pole-star in case of that star being obscured by clouds, and tell the hour of the night by the stars and moon. . have a general knowledge of the positions and movements of the earth, sun and moon, and of tides, eclipses, meteors, comets, sun-spots, and planets. athletics [illustration: winged foot insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for athletics a scout must . write an acceptable article of not less than five hundred words on how to train for an athletic event. . give the rules for one track and one field event. . make the required athletic standard according to his weight, classifications and conditions as stated in chapter eight. automobiling [illustration: wheel insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for automobiling a scout must . demonstrate how to start a motor, explaining what precautions should be taken. . take off and put on pneumatic tires. . know the functions of the clutch, carburetor, valves, magneto, spark plug, differential cam shaft, and different speed gears, and be able to explain difference between a two and four-cycle motor. . know how to put out burning gasoline or oil. . have satisfactorily passed the requirements to receive a license to operate an automobile in the community in which he lives. aviation [illustration: biplane insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for aviation a scout must . have a knowledge of the theory of aeroplanes, balloons, and dirigibles. . have made a working model of an { } aeroplane or dirigible that will fly at least twenty-five yards; and have built a box kite that will fly. . have a knowledge of the engines used for aeroplanes and dirigibles, and be able to describe the various types of aeroplanes and their records. bee farming [illustration: bee insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for bee farming a scout must . have a practical knowledge of swarming, hiving, hives and general apiculture, including a knowledge of the use of artificial combs. . describe different kinds of honey and tell from what sources gathered. blacksmithing [illustration: anvil insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for blacksmithing a scout must . upset and weld a one-inch iron rod. . make a horseshoe. . know how to tire a wheel, use a sledge-hammer and forge, shoe a horse correctly and roughshoe a horse. . be able to temper iron and steel. bugling [illustration: bugle insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for bugling a scout must . be able to sound properly on the bugle the customary united states army calls. business [illustration: quill pen insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for business a scout must . write a satisfactory business, and a personal letter. . state fundamental principles of buying and selling. . know simple bookkeeping. . keep a complete and actual account of personal receipts and expenditures for six months. { } . state how much money would need to be invested at per cent. to earn his weekly allowance of spending money for a year. camping [illustration: tent insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for camping a scout must . have slept in the open or under canvas at different times fifty nights. . have put up a tent alone and ditched it. . have made a bed of wild material and a fire without matches. . state how to choose a camp site and how to prepare for rain; how to build a latrine (toilet) and how to dispose of the camp garbage and refuse. . know how to construct a raft. carpentry [illustration: wood plane insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for carpentry a scout must . know the proper way to drive, set and clinch a nail. . know the different kinds of chisels, planes and saws, and how to sharpen and use them. . know the use of the rule, square, level, plumb-line and mitre. . know how to use compasses for scribing both regular and irregular lines. . make an article of furniture with three different standard joints or splices, with at least one surface of highly polished hard or decorative wood. all work to be done without assistance. chemistry [illustration: chemical retort insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for chemistry a scout must be able to pass the following test: . define physical and chemical change. which occurs when salt is dissolved in water, milk sours, iron rusts, water boils, iron is magnetized and mercuric oxide is heated above the boiling point of mercury? . give correct tests for oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, chlorine, and carbon dioxide gases. . could you use the above gases to extinguish fire? how? . why can baking soda be used to put out a small fire? { } . give tests for a chloride, sulphide, sulphate, nitrate, and carbonate. . give the names of three commercial forms of carbon. tell how each is made and the purpose for which it is used. . what compound is formed when carbon is burned in air? . tell process of making lime and mortar from limestone. . why will fresh plaster harden quicker by burning charcoal in an open vessel near it? civics [illustration: ax insignia (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for civics a scout must . state the principal citizenship requirements of an elector in his state. . know the principal features of the naturalization laws of the united states. . know how president, vice-president, senators, and congressmen of the united states are elected and their terms of office. . know the number of judges of the supreme court of the united states, how appointed, and their term of office. . know the various administrative departments of government, as represented in the president's cabinet. . know how the governor, lieutenant-governor, senators, representatives, or assemblymen of his state are elected, and their terms of office. . know whether the judges of the principal courts in his state are appointed or elected, and the length of their terms. . know how the principal officers in his town or city are elected and for what terms. . know the duties of the various city departments, such as fire, police, board of health, etc. . draw a map of the town or city in which he lives, giving location of the principal public buildings and points of special interest. . give satisfactory evidence that he is familiar with the { } provisions and history of the declaration of independence, and the constitution of the united states. conservation [illustration: sunset over forest insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for conservation a scout must . be able to recognize in the forest all important commercial trees in his neighborhood; distinguish the lumber from each and tell for what purpose each is best suited; tell the age of old blazes on trees which mark a boundary or trail; recognize the difference in the forest between good and bad logging, giving reasons why one is good and another bad; tell whether a tree is dying from injury by fire, by insects, by disease or by a combination of these causes; know what tools to use, and how to fight fires in hilly or in flat country. collect the seeds of two commercial trees, clean and store them, and know how and when to plant them. . know the effect upon stream-flow of the destruction of forests at head waters; know what are the four great uses of water in streams; what causes the pollution of streams, and how it can best be stopped; and how, in general, water power is developed. . be able to tell, for a given piece of farm land, whether it is best suited for use as farm or forest, and why; point out examples of erosion, and tell how to stop it; give the reasons why a growing crop pointed out to him is successful or why not; and tell what crops should be grown in his neighborhood and why. . know where the great coal fields are situated and whether the use of coal is increasing, and if so at what rate. tell what are the great sources of waste of coal, in the mines, and in its use, and how they can be reduced. . know the principal game birds and animals in his neighborhood, the seasons during which they are protected, the methods of protection, and the results. recognize the track of any two of the following: rabbit, fox, deer, squirrel, wild turkey, ruffed grouse and quail. cooking [illustration: cooking pot insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for cooking a scout must . prove his ability to build a fireplace out of stone or sod { } or logs, light a fire, and cook in the open the following dishes in addition to those required for a first-class scout: camp stew, two vegetables, omelet, rice pudding; know how to mix dough, and bake bread in an oven; be able to make tea, coffee, and cocoa, carve properly and serve correctly to people at the table. craftsmanship [illustration: drafting compass insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for craftsmanship a scout must . build and finish unassisted one of the following articles: a round, square or octagonal tabouret; round or square den or library table; hall or piano bench; rustic arm chair or swing to be hung with chains; or rustic table. . he must also make plans or intelligent rough sketch drawing of the piece selected. cycling [illustration: wheel insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for cycling a scout must . be able to ride a bicycle fifty miles in ten hours. . repair a puncture. . take apart and clean bicycle and put together again properly. . know how to make reports if sent out scouting on a road. . be able to read a map and report correctly verbal messages. dairying [illustration: butter churn insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for dairying a scout must . understand the management of dairy cattle. . be able to milk. . understand the sterilization of milk, and care of dairy utensils and appliances. { } . test at least five cows for ten days each, with the babcock test, and make proper reports. electricity [illustration: fist holding lightening insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for electricity a scout must . illustrate the experiment by which the laws of electrical attraction and repulsion are shown. . name three uses of the direct current, and tell how it differs from the alternating current. . make a simple electro-magnet. . have an elementary knowledge of the action of simple battery cells and of the working of electric bells and telephones. . be able to remedy fused wire, and to repair broken electric connections. . construct a machine to make static electricity or a wireless apparatus. . have a knowledge of the method of resuscitation and rescue of a person insensible from shock. firemanship [illustration: fire hose nozzle insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for firemanship, a scout must . know how to turn in an alarm for fire. . know how to enter burning buildings. . know how to prevent panics and the spread of fire. . understand the use of hose; unrolling, joining up, connecting two hydrants, use of nozzle, etc. . understand the use of escapes, ladders, and chutes, and know the location of exits in buildings which he frequents. . know how to improvise ropes and nets. . know what to do in case of panic, understand the fireman's lift and drag, and how to work in fumes. . understand the use of fire extinguishers; how to rescue animals; how to save property; how to organize a bucket brigade, and how to aid the police in keeping back crowds. first aid [illustration: large "x" insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for first aid a scout must . be able to demonstrate the sylvester and schaefer methods of resuscitation. { } . carry a person down a ladder. . bandage head and ankle. . demonstrate treatment of wound of the neck with severe arterial hemorrhage. . treat mangling injury of the leg without severe hemorrhage. . demonstrate treatment for rupture of varicose veins of the leg with severe hemorrhage. . show treatment for bite of finger by mad dog. . demonstrate rescue of person in contact with electric wire. . apply tourniquet to a principal artery. . state chief differences between carbolic poisoning and intoxication. . explain what to do for snake bite. . pass first aid test of american red cross society. first aid to animals [illustration: bandaged dog insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for first aid to animals a scout must . have a general knowledge of domestic and farm animals. . be able to treat a horse for colic. . describe symptoms and give treatment for the following: wounds, fractures and sprains, exhaustion, choking, lameness. . understand horseshoeing. forestry [illustration: pine cone insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for forestry a scout must . be able to identify twenty-five kinds of trees when in leaf, or fifteen kinds of deciduous (broad leaf) trees in winter, and tell some of the uses of each. . identify twelve kinds of shrubs. . collect and identify samples of ten kinds of wood and be able to tell some of their uses. . determine the height, and estimate the amount of timber, approximately, in five trees of different sizes. { } . state laws for transplanting, grafting, spraying, and protecting trees. gardening [illustration: corn cob insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for gardening, a scout must . dig and care for during the season a piece of ground containing not less than square feet. . know the names of a dozen plants pointed out in an ordinary garden. . understand what is meant by pruning, grafting, and manuring. . plant and grow successfully six kinds of vegetables or flowers from seeds or cuttings. . cut grass with scythe under supervision. handicraft [illustration: hammer and screwdriver insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for handicraft a scout must . be able to paint a door. . whitewash a ceiling. . repair gas fittings, sash lines, window and door fastenings. . replace gas mantles, washers, and electric light bulbs. . solder. . hang pictures and curtains. . repair blinds. . fix curtains, portiere rods, blind fixtures. . lay carpets and mend clothing and upholstery. . repair furniture and china. . sharpen knives. . repair gates. . fix screens on windows and doors. horsemanship [illustration: horseshoe insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for horsemanship a scout must . demonstrate riding at a walk, trot, and gallop. . know how to saddle and bridle a horse correctly. . know how to water and feed and to what amount, and how to groom a horse properly. { } . know how to harness a horse correctly in single or double harness and to drive. . have a knowledge of the power of endurance of horses at work and know the local regulations concerning driving. . know the management and care of horses. . be able to identify unsoundness and blemishes. . know the evils of bearing or check reins and of ill-fitting harness or saddlery. . know two common causes of, and proper remedies for, lameness, and know to whom he should refer cases of cruelty and abuse. . be able to judge as to the weight, height, and age of horses; know three breeds and their general characteristics. interpreting [illustration: handshake insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for interpreting, a scout must . be able to carry on a simple conversation. . write a simple letter on subject given by examiners. . read and translate a passage from a book or newspaper, in french, german, english, italian, or any language that is not of his own country. invention [illustration: gear insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for invention a scout must . invent and patent some useful article; . show a working drawing or model of the same. leather working [illustration: awl insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for leather working a scout must . have a knowledge of tanning and curing. { } . be able to sole and heel a pair of boots, sewed or nailed, and generally repair boots and shoes. . be able to dress a saddle, repair traces, stirrup leathers, etc., and know the various parts of harness. life saving [illustration: lifesaving buoy insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for life saving a scout must . be able to dive into from seven to ten feet of water and bring from bottom to surface a loose bag of sand weighing five pounds. . be able to swim two hundred yards, one hundred yards on back without using the hands, and one hundred yards any other stroke. . swim fifty yards with clothes on (shirt, long trousers, and shoes as minimum). . demonstrate (a) on land--five methods of release; (b) in the water--two methods of release; (c) the schaefer method of resuscitation (prone pressure). machinery [illustration: pipewrench insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for machinery a scout must . state the principles underlying the use and construction of the lathe, steam boiler and engine, drill press and planer. . make a small wood or metal model illustrating the principles of either levers, gears, belted pulleys, or block and fall. marksmanship [illustration: target insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for marksmanship a scout must . qualify as a marksman in accordance with the regulations of the national rifle association. masonry [illustration: trowel insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for masonry a scout must . lay a straight wall with a corner. { } . make mortar and describe process. . use intelligently a plumb-line, level, and trowel. . build a stone oven. . demonstrate a knowledge of various uses for cement. . build a dry wall. mining [illustration: shovel insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for mining a scout must . know and name fifty minerals. . know, name and describe the fourteen great divisions of the earth's crust (according to geikie). . define watershed, delta, drift, fault, glacier, terrace, stratum, dip; and identify ten different kinds of rock. . describe methods for mine ventilation and safety devices. music [illustration: lyre insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for music a. scout must . be able to play a standard musical instrument satisfactorily. . read simple music. . write a satisfactory essay of not less than five hundred words on the history of american music. ornithology [illustration: bird insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for ornithology a scout must . have a list of one hundred different kinds of birds personally observed on exploration in the field. . have identified beyond question, by appearance or by note, forty-five different kinds of birds in one day. . have made a good clear photograph of some wild bird, the bird image to be over one half inch in length on the negative. . have secured at least two tenants in bird boxes erected by himself. { } . have daily notes on the nesting of a pair of wild birds from the time the first egg is laid until the young have left the nest. . have attracted at least three kinds of birds, exclusive of the english sparrow, to a "lunch counter" which he has supplied. painting [illustration: paintbrush insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for painting a scout must . have knowledge of how to combine pigments in order to produce paints in shades and tints of color. . know how to add positive colors to a base of white lead or of white zinc. . understand the mixing of oils; turpentine, etc., to the proper consistency. . paint a porch floor or other surface evenly and without laps. . know how and when to putty up nail holes and uneven surfaces. . present for inspection a panel covered with three coats of paint, which panel must contain a border of molding, the body of the panel to be painted in one color and the molding in another. pathfinding [illustration: indianhead insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for pathfinding a scout must . know every lane, by-path, and short cut for a distance of at least two miles in every direction around the local scouts' headquarters in the country. . have a general knowledge of the district within a five mile radius of his local headquarters, so as to be able to guide people at any time, by day or night. . know the general direction and population of the five principal neighboring towns and be able to give strangers correct directions how to reach them. . know in the country in the two mile radius, approximately, the number of horses, cattle, sheep, and pigs owned on the five neighboring farms: or in a town must know in a half-mile radius what livery stables, garages and blacksmiths there are. . know the location of the nearest meat markets, bakeries, groceries, and drug stores. { } . know where the nearest police station, hospital, doctor, fire alarm, fire hydrant, telegraph and telephone offices, and railroad stations are. . know something of the history of the place, its principal public buildings, such as town or city hall, post-office, schools, and churches. . as much as possible of the above information should be entered on a large scale map. personal health [illustration: heart insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for personal health a scout must . write a statement on the care of the teeth. . state a principle to govern in eating, and state in the order of their importance, five rules to govern the care of his health. . be able to tell the difference in effect of a cold and hot bath. . describe the effect of alcohol and tobacco on the growing boy. . tell how to care for the feet on a march. . describe a good healthful game and state its merit. . describe the effects of walking as an exercise. . tell how athletics may be overdone. photography [illustration: camera and tripod insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for photography a scout must . have a knowledge of the theory and use of lenses, of the construction of cameras, and the action of developers. . take, develop, and print twelve separate subjects: three interiors, three portraits, three landscapes, and three instantaneous "action photos." . make a recognizable photograph of any wild bird larger than a robin, while on its nest; or a wild animal in its native haunts; or a fish in the water. pioneering [illustration: pickaxe and hatchet insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for pioneering a scout must . fell a nine-inch tree or pole in a prescribed direction neatly and quickly. { } . tie six knots of knots quickly. . lash spars properly together for scaffolding. . build a modern bridge or derrick. . make a camp kitchen. . build a shack of one kind or another suitable for three occupants. plumbing [illustration: faucet insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for plumbing a scout must . be able to make wiped and brazed joints. . repair a burst pipe. . mend a ball or faucet tap. . understand the ordinary hot and cold water system of a house. poultry farming [illustration: chicken insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for poultry farming a scout must . have a knowledge of incubators, foster-mothers, sanitary fowl houses, and coops and runs. . understand rearing, feeding, killing, and dressing birds for market. . be able to pack birds and eggs for market. . raise a brood of not less than ten chickens. . report his observation and study of the hen, turkey, duck, and goose. printing [illustration: ink roller insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for printing a scout must . know the names of ten different kinds of type and ten sizes of paper. . be able to compose by hand or machines. . understand the use of hand or power printing machines. . print a handbill set up by himself. . be able to read and mark proof correctly. public health [illustration: torch insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for public health a scout must . state what the chief causes of each of the following disease are: tuberculosis, typhoid, malaria. { } . draw a diagram showing how the house-fly carries disease. . tell what should be done to a house which has been occupied by a person who has had a contagious disease. . tell how a scout may cooperate with the board of health in preventing disease. . describe the method used in his community in disposing of garbage. . tell how a city should protect its foods; milk, meat, and exposed foods. . tell how to plan the sanitary care of a camp. . state the reason why school children should undergo a medical examination. scholarship note: the requirements for the merit badge for scholarship had not been decided upon when this book was published. information about same may be secured upon application to national headquarters. sculpture [illustration: bust insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for sculpture a scout must . make a clay model from an antique design. . make a drawing and a model from nature, these models to be faithful to the original and of artistic design. seamanship [illustration: anchor insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for seamanship . be able to tie rapidly six different knots. . splice ropes. . use a palm and needle. . fling a rope coil. . be able to row, pole, scull, and steer a boat; also bring a boat properly alongside and make fast. . know how to box the compass, read a chart, and show use of parallel rules and dividers. . be able to state direction by the stars and sun. . swim fifty yards with shoes and clothes on. { } . understand the general working of steam and hydraulic winches, and have a knowledge of weather wisdom and of tides. signaling [illustration: signal flags insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for signaling a scout must . send and receive a message in two of the following systems of signaling: semaphore, morse, or myer, not fewer than twenty-four letters per minute. . be able to give and read signals by sound. . make correct smoke and fire signals. stalking [illustration: leaf insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for stalking a scout must . take a series of twenty photographs of wild animals or birds from life, and develop and print them. . make a group of sixty species of wild flowers, ferns, or grasses, dried and mounted in a book and correctly named. . make colored drawings of twenty flowers, ferns, or grasses, or twelve sketches from life of animals or birds, original sketches as well as the finished pictures to be submitted. surveying [illustration: theodolite insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for surveying a scout must . map correctly from the country itself the main features of half a mile of road, with yards each side to a scale of two feet to the mile, and afterward draw same map from memory. . be able to measure the height of a tree, telegraph pole, and church steeple, describing method adopted. . measure width of a river. . estimate distance apart of two objects a known distance away and unapproachable. . be able to measure a gradient. swimming [illustration: swimmer insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for swimming a scout must . be able to swim one hundred yards. { } . dive properly from the surface of the water. . demonstrate breast, crawl, and side stroke. . swim on the back fifty feet. taxidermy [illustration: talon insignia. (tr)] to obtain a merit badge for taxidermy a scout must . have a knowledge of the game laws of the state in which he lives. . preserve and mount the skin of a game bird, or animal, killed in season. . mount for a rug the pelt of some fur animal. life scout [illustration: life scout insignia. (tr)] the life scout badge will be given to all first-class scouts who have qualified for the following five-merit badges: first aid, athletics, life-saving, personal health, and public health. star scout [illustration: star scout insignia. (tr)] the star scout badge will be given to the first-class scout who has qualified for ten merit badges. the ten include the list of badges under life scout. eagle scout [illustration: eagle scout insignia. (tr)] any first-class scout qualifying for twenty-one merit badges will be entitled to wear the highest scout merit badge. this is an eagle's head in silver, and represents the all-round perfect scout. { } honor medals [illustration: honor medal insignia. (tr)] a scout who is awarded any one of the following medals is entitled to wear the same on the left breast: bronze medal. cross in bronze with first-class scout badge superimposed upon it and suspended from a bar by a red ribbon. this is awarded to a scout who has saved life. silver medal. silver cross with first-class scout badge superimposed upon it and suspended from bar by blue ribbon. this medal is awarded to a scout who saves life with considerable risk to himself. gold medal. gold cross with first-class scout badge superimposed upon it and suspended from bar by white ribbon. this medal is the highest possible award for service and heroism. it may be granted to a scout who has saved life at the greatest possible risk to his own life, and also to anyone who has rendered service of peculiar merit to the boy scouts of america. the honor medal is a national honor and is awarded only by the national council. to make application for one of these badges the facts must first be investigated by the court of honor of the local council and presented by that body to the court of honor of the national council. _the local court of honor may at any time invite experts to share in their examinations and recommendations_. when the national court of honor has passed upon the application, the proper medal will be awarded. badges of rank the following devices are used to distinguish the various ranks of scouts: patrol leader [illustration: patrol leader insignia. (tr)] patrol leader: the patrol leader's arm badge consists of two bars, - / -inches long and / -inch wide, of white braid worn on the sleeve below the left shoulder. in addition he may { } wear all oxidized silver tenderfoot, second-class or first-class scout badge according to his rank. the assistant patrol leader wears one bar. [illustration: service stripe insignia. (tr)] service stripes: for each year of service as a boy scout, he will be entitled to wear a stripe of white braid around the sleeve above the wrist, three stripes being changed for one red one. five years of scouting would be indicated by one red stripe and two white stripes. the star indicates the position for wearing merit badges. [illustration: scoutmaster insignia. (tr)] scout master: the badge of the scout commissioner, scout master, and assistant scout master is the first-class scout's badge reproduced in blue, green, and red, respectively, and are worn on the sleeve below the left shoulder. [illustration: star insignia. (tr)] chief scout: the badge of the chief scout is the first-class scout badge with a five-pointed star above it embroidered in silver. [illustration: caduceus (snakes on pole) insignia. (tr)] chief scout surgeon: the badge of the chief scout surgeon is the first-class scout badge with a caduceus above it embroidered in green. (the chief scout's staff wear the badge of rank in the same manner as the chief scout.) [illustration: crossed hatchets insignia. (tr)] chief scout woodsman: the badge of the chief scout woodsman is the first-class scout badge with two crossed axes above it embroidered in green. [illustration: leaf insignia. (tr)] chief scout stalker: the badge of the chief scout stalker is the first-class scout badge with an oak leaf above it embroidered in blue. [illustration: tongues of fire insignia. (tr)] chief scout director of health: the badge of the chief scout director of health is the first-class scout badge with { } tongues of fire above it embroidered in red. [illustration: moccasin insignia. (tr)] chief scout camp master: the badge of the chief scout camp master is the first-class scout badge with a moccasin above it embroidered in green: [illustration: winged foot insignia. (tr)] chief scout of athletics: the badge of the chief scout director of athletics is the first-class scout badge with a winged mercury foot above it embroidered in green. chief scout director of chivalry: the badge of the chief scout director of chivalry is the first-class scout badge with the scout sign above it embroidered in gold. [illustration: american flag insignia. (tr)] chief scout citizen: the badge of the chief scout citizen is the first-class scout badge with the united states flag above it in silver. appropriate badges for national and local councilmen may be secured from the national headquarters. equipment _it should be clearly understood by all interested in the scout movement that it is not necessary for a boy to have a uniform or any other special equipment to carry out the scout program. there are a great many troops in the country which have made successful progress without any equipment whatever_. however, for the convenience of boys who wish to secure a uniform or other equipment, the national council has made arrangements with certain manufacturers to furnish such parts of the equipment as may be desired by the boys. such arrangements have been made with these manufacturers only after a great number of representative firms have been given an opportunity to submit samples and prices; the prices quoted to be uniform throughout the country. these manufacturers { } are given the privilege of using for a limited period an imprint of the official badge as an indication that the committee on equipment is willing to recommend the use of that particular article. the official badge is fully protected by the u. s. patent laws and anyone using it without expressed authority from national headquarters is subject to prosecution at law. considerable difficulty has been experienced in the selection of the material used in making coats, breeches, and shirts. the material used in the boy scout coat, breeches, and shirt has been submitted to a thirty-day sun test, the acid and strength test and is guaranteed to be a fast color and durable. to show the result of the selection made, the manufacturer of these articles has been given the privilege of using the imprint of the official seal and the right to use the official buttons. we recommend the purchase of the articles having this imprint through any local dealer or through national headquarters. however, where a local council exists, buttons will be supplied on order of the executive committee for use on such uniforms as the committee may desire to have made locally. in communities where no local council has been formed, they may be supplied on order of a registered scout master. prices of the buttons per set for coat is cents and per set for shirt cents. every effort is made to have all parts of the uniform and equipment available to scouts through local dealers. if such arrangements have not been made in a community, the national headquarters will be glad to help in making such an arrangement. many scout masters prefer to order uniforms and other supplies direct from national headquarters. in order to cover the expense involved in handling these supplies, the manufacturers have agreed to allow national headquarters the same trade discount allowed to local dealers. trade through national headquarters if sufficiently large will help to meet a part of the current expenses of the national organization. any combination desired may be made from this list. a fairly complete equipment may be secured at the very nominal sum of $ . . for instance, the summer equipment which consists of: hat, cents; shirt, cents; shorts, cents; belt, cents. where it is desired to equip the members of the troop with a standard uniform the following equipment is suggested: hat, shirt, coat, breeches or knickerbockers, belt, leggings or stockings, shoes, haversack. { } other combinations may be made according to the resources of the boys forming the troop. however, it is recommended that each troop decide upon a definite combination to be worn by its members so that all of the scouts in the troop may dress alike. each boy should pay for his own supplies and equipment. soliciting donations for this purpose should be prohibited. a complete list of all supplies and equipment with full information about places where same can be secured is given in the appendix of this book. knots every scout should know _by samuel a. moffat, boy scouts of america_ every scout knows what rope is. from the earliest moment of his play life he has used it in connection with most of his games. in camp life and on hikes he will be called upon to use it again and again. it is therefore not essential to describe here the formation of rope; its various sizes and strength. the important thing to know is how to use it to the best advantage. to do this an intelligent understanding of the different knots and how to tie them is essential. every day sailors, explorers, mechanics, and mountain-climbers risk their lives on the knots that they tie. thousands of lives have been sacrificed to ill-made knots. the scout therefore should be prepared in an emergency, or when necessity demands, to tie the right knot in the right way. there are three qualities to a good knot: . rapidity with which it can be tied. . its ability to hold fast when pulled tight, and . the readiness with which it can be undone. the following knots, recommended to scouts, are the most serviceable because they meet the above requirements and will be of great help in scoutcraft. if the tenderfoot will follow closely the various steps indicated in the diagrams, he will have little difficulty in reproducing them at pleasure. in practising knot-tying a short piece of hemp rope may be used. to protect the ends from fraying a scout should know how to "whip" them. the commonest method of "whipping" is as follows: [illustration: whipping.] lay the end of a piece of twine along the end of the rope. { } hold it to the rope with the thumb of your left hand while you wind the standing part around it and the rope until the end of the twine has been covered. then with the other end of the twine lay a loop back on the end of the rope and continue winding the twine upon this second end until all is taken up. the end is then pulled back tight and cut off close to the rope. for the sake of clearness a scout must constantly keep in mind these three principal parts of the rope: [illustration: rope loop. (tr)] . _the standing part_--the long unused portion of the rope on which he works; . _the bight_--the loop formed whenever the rope is turned back upon itself; and, . _the end_--the part he uses in leading. before proceeding with the tenderfoot requirements, a scout should first learn the two primary knots: the overhand and figure-of-eight knots. [illustration: overhand knot.] _the overhand knot_. start with the position shown in the preceding diagram. back the end around the standing part and up through the bight and draw tight. [illustration: figure eight knot.] _the figure of eight knot_. make a bight as before. then lead the end around back of the standing part and down through the bight. after these preliminary steps, the prospective tenderfoot may proceed to learn the required knots. { } [illustration: reef knot.] _square or reef knot_. the commonest knot for tying two ropes together. frequently used in first-aid bandaging. never slips or jams; easy to untie. [illustration: false reef knot.] _false reef or granny_. if the ends are not crossed correctly when making the reef knot, the false reef or granny is the result. this knot is always bad. [illustration: sheet bend knot.] _sheet bend or weaver's knot_. this knot is used in bending the sheet to the clew of a sail and in tying two rope-ends together. make a bight with one rope a, b, then pass end c, of other rope up through and around the entire bight and bend it under its own standing part. [illustration: bowline knot.] _the bowline_. a noose that neither jams nor slips. used in lowering a person from a burning building, etc. form a small loop on the standing part leaving the end long enough for the size of the noose required. pass the end up through the bight around the standing part and down through the bight again. to tighten, hold noose in position and pull standing part. [illustration: halter knot.] _halter, slip, or running knot_. a bight is first formed and an overhand knot made with the end around the standing part. [illustration: sheepshank knot.] _sheepshank_. used for shortening ropes. gather up the amount to be shortened, then make a half hitch round each of the bends as shown in the diagram. { } [illustration: clove hitch knot.] _clove hitch_. used to fasten one pole to another in fitting up scaffolding; this knot holds snugly; is not liable to slip laterally. hold the standing part in left hand, then pass the rope around the pole; cross the standing part, making a second turn around the pole, and pass the end under the last turn. [illustration: fisherman's bend knot.] _the fisherman's bend_. used aboard yachts for bending on the gaff topsail halliards. it consists of two turns around a spar or ring, then a half hitch around the standing part and through the turns on the spar, and another half hitch above it around the standing part. [illustration: timber hitch knot.] _timber hitch_. used in hauling timber. pass the end of the rope around the timber. then lead it around its standing part and bring it back to make two or more turns on its own part. the strain will hold it securely. [illustration: two half hitches knot.] _two half hitches_. useful because they are easily made and will not slip under any strain. their formation is sufficiently indicated by the diagram. [illustration: blackwall hitch knot.] _blackwall hitch_. used to secure a rope to a hook. the standing part when hauled tight holds the end firmly. [illustration: becket hitch knot.] _becket hitch_. for joining a cord to a rope. may be easily made from diagram. { } [illustration: fisherman's knot.] _the fisherman's knot_. used for tying silk-worm gut for fishing purposes. it never slips; is easily unloosed by pulling the two short ends. the two ropes are laid alongside one another, then with each end an overhand knot is made around the standing part of the other. pull the standing parts to tighten. [illustration: carrick bend knot.] _carrick bend_. used in uniting hawsers for towing. is easily untied by pushing the loops inwards. turn the end of one rope a over its standing part b to form a loop. pass the end of the other rope across the bight thus formed, back of the standing part b over the end a, then under the bight at c, passing it over its own standing part and under the bight again at d. [illustration: mariner's compass.] the mariner's compass boxing the compass consists in enumerating the points, beginning with north and working around the circle as follows: north north by east north, north-east north-east by north north-east north-east by east east, north-east east by north east east by south east, south-east south-east by east south-east south-east by south { } south, south-east south by east south south by west south, south-west south-west by south south-west south-west by west west, south-west west by south west west by north west, north-west north-west by west north-west north-west by north north, north-west north by west north notes { } notes { } notes { } notes { } chapter ii woodcraft woodlore _by ernest thompson seton, chief scout_ the watch for a compass (from "boy scouts of america," by ernest thompson seton. copyright, , by doubleday, page & company ) the watch is often used to give the compass point exactly. thus: point the hour-hand to the sun; then, in the morning, half-way between the hour-hand and noon is due south. if afternoon, one must reckon half-way backward. thus: at a. m., point the hour-hand to the sun and reckon forward half-way to noon; the south is at . if at p. m., point the hour-hand at the sun and reckon back half-way. the south is at two o'clock. the "half-way" is because the sun makes a course of twenty-four hours and the clock of but twelve. if we had a rational timepiece of twenty-four hours, it would fit in much better with all nature, and with the hour-hand pointed to the sun would make o'clock, noon, always south. if you cannot see the sun, get into a clear, open space, hold your knife point upright on your watch dial, and it will cast a faint shadow, showing where the sun really is, unless the clouds are very heavy. finding your latitude by the stars the use of the stars to the scout is chiefly to guide him by showing the north, but the white man has carried the use a step farther: he makes the pole-star tell him not only where the north is, but where he himself is. from the pole-star, he can learn his latitude. it is reckoned an exploit to take one's latitude from the north star with a cart-wheel, or with two sticks and a bucket of water. { } the first attempt i made was with two sticks and a bucket of water. i arranged the bucket in the daytime, so that it could be filled from rim to rim; that is, it was level, and that gave me the horizon line; next, i fastened my two sticks together at an adjustable angle. then, laying one stick across the bucket as a base, i raised the other till the two sight notches on its upper edge were in straight line for the pole-star. the sticks were now fastened at this angle and put away till the morning. on a smooth board--the board is allowable because it can be found either far on the plains when you have your wagon, or on the ship at sea--i mapped out, first a right angle, by the old plan of measuring off a triangle, whose sides were six, eight, and ten inches, and applied the star angle to this. by a process of equal subdivision i got degrees, - / degrees, finally degrees, which seemed to be the latitude of my camp; subsequent looking-up showed it to be degrees minutes. [illustration: bucket and sticks. (tr)] of course, it is hard to imagine that the boys will ever be so placed that it is important for them to take their latitude with home-made implements; but it is also hard to imagine circumstances under which it would be necessary to know that the sun is , , miles away. it is very sure, however, that a boy who has once done this has a larger idea of the world and its geography, and it is likely to help him in realizing that there is some meaning to the lines and figures on the border of his school maps, and that they are not put there merely to add to his perplexities. [illustration: sundial, or hunter's clock.] { } to make a scout's sundial, prepare a smooth board about fifteen inches across, with a circle divided into twenty-four equal parts, and a temporarily hinged pointer, whose upper edge is in the middle of the dial. place on some dead level, solid post or stump in the open. at night fix the dial so that the twelve o'clock line points exactly to north, as determined by the polestar. then, using two temporary sighting sticks of exactly the same height (so as to permit sighting clear above the edge of the board) set the pointer exactly pointing to the pole-star; that is, the same angle as the latitude of the place, and fix it there immovably. then remove the two sighting sticks. as a timepiece, this dial will be found roughly correct for that latitude. the angle of the pointer, or style, must be changed for each latitude. building a log cabin (from country life in america. may, ) there are as many different kinds of log cabins as of any other architecture. it is best to begin with the simplest. the tools needed are a sharp ax, a crosscut saw, an inch auger, and a spade. it is possible to get along with nothing but an ax (many settlers had no other tool), but the spade, saw, and auger save much work. for the site select a high, dry place, in or near the woods, and close to the drinking-water. it should be a sunny place, and with a view, preferably one facing south or east. clear off and level the ground. then bring your logs. these are more picturesque with the bark left on, but last longer peeled. eight feet by twelve feet outside makes a good cabin for three or four boys. cut and carry about twelve logs, each ten feet long; and twelve more, each fourteen feet long. the logs should be at least six inches through. soft wood is preferable, as it is easier to handle; the four ground logs or sills, at least, should be of cedar, chestnut, or other wood that does not rot. lay two of the fourteen-foot logs on the ground, at the places for the long sides, and seven feet apart. then across them, at the end, lay two short ones, eleven feet apart. this leaves about a foot projecting from each log. roll the last two into their resting places, and flatten them till they sit firmly. it is of prime importance that each log rest immovably on the one below. now cut the upper part of each end log, to an edge over each corner. (fig. .) { } [illustration: log cabin, figures to .] next put on two long logs, roll them onto the middle, taking care to change off, so the big end at a given comer may be followed next time by the small end and insure the corner rising evenly. roll one of these large logs close to where it is to be placed, then cut on its upper surface at each end a notch corresponding with the ridge on the log it is to ride on. when ready, half a roll drops it into place. the log should be one to three inches above the one under it, and should not touch except at { } the ends. repeat the process now with the other sides, then the two ends, etc., always keeping the line of the corner plumb. as the walls rise, it will be found necessary to skid the larger logs; that is, roll them up on two long logs, or skids, leaning against the wall. (fig. .) when the logs are in place to the height of four and a half feet from the ground, it is time to decide where the door and window are to be; and at that place, while the next long log is lying on top, bottom up, cut out a piece four feet long and four inches deep. roll this log into place. (fig. .) one more log above this, or certainly two, will make your shanty high enough for boys. put on final end logs, then two others across the shanty. (fig. .) roll up the biggest, strongest log of all for the ridge (sometimes two are used side by side); it should lie along the middle of the four cross pieces shown in fig. . the two cross logs, b and c, and the ridge log should be very strong, as the roof is heavy. now we are ready to cut the doorway and window. first, drive in blocks of wood between each of the logs, all the way down from a to the ground, and from b down to d, and c to e. (fig. .) saw down now from a half-way through the ground log f. then from b down to half-way through the log d; now continue from g, cutting down to half through the ground log. use the ax to split out the upper half of the ground log, between the saw-cuts and also the upper half of the log d. hew a flat piece of soft wood, five or six inches wide, about two inches thick, and as long as the height of this doorway. set it up against the ends of the logs a to f. bore an auger hole through it into the end of each log (these holes must not be in line lest they split the jamb), including the top and bottom ones, and drive into each a pin of oak. this holds all safely. do the same on the other side, h to e, and put a small one down b, d, which is the side of the window. now we are ready to finish the roof. use the ax to bevel off the corners of the four cross-logs, a and b. (fig. .) then get a lot of strong poles, about five feet long, and lay them close together along the two sides of the roof till it is covered with poles; putting a very heavy one, or small log, on the outer edge of each, and fastening it down with a pin into the ridge log. cut two long poles and lay one on each of the lower ends of the roof poles, as at a, b, and c (fig. ), pinning them to the side logs. cover this roof with a foot of hay or straw or grass, and cover { } that again evenly with about four inches of stiff clay. pack this down. it will soon squeeze all that foot of straw down to little more than one inch, and will make a warm and water-tight roof. as the clay is very heavy, it is wise, before going inside, to test the roof by jumping on it. if it gives too much, it will be well to add a centre prop. now for the door: hew out planks; two should be enough. fasten these together with two cross-pieces and one angle-piece, using oak pegs instead of nails, if you wish to be truly primitive. for these the holes should be bored part way with a gimlet, and a peg used larger than the hole. the lower end of the back plank is left projecting in a point. (fig. .) this point fits into a hole pecked with a point or bored with an auger into the door-sill. bore another hole near the top of the door (a), and a corresponding one through the door-jamb between two logs. set the door in place. a strip of rawhide leather, a limber willow branch, or a strip of hickory put through the auger hole of the door and wedged into the hole in the jamb, makes a truly wild-wood hinge. a peg in the front jamb prevents the door going too far out, and a string and peg inside answer for a latch. the window opening may be closed with a glass sash, with a piece of muslin, or with the rawhide of an animal, scraped clear of hair and stretched on a frame. it now remains to chink and plaster the place. chinking is best done from the inside. long triangular strips and blocks of wood are driven in between the logs and fastened there with oak pins driven into the lower log till nothing but small crannies remain. some cabins are finished with moss plugged into all the crannies, but mud worked into plaster does better. it should be put on the outside first, and afterward finished form the inside. it is best done really with two plasterers working together, one inside and one out. this completes the shanty, but a bunk and fireplace are usually added. the fireplace may be in one corner, or in the middle of the end. it is easiest to make in the former. across the corner, peg three angle braces, each about three feet long. these are to prevent the chimney falling forward. now begin to build with stone, using mud as mortar, a fireplace this shape. (fig. .) make the opening about eighteen inches across; carry it up two feet high, drawing it in a little, then lay a long stone across the front, after which build up { } the flue behind the corner braces right up to the roof. the top corner-piece carries the rafter that may be cut off to let the flue out. build the chimney up outside as high as the highest part of the ridge. but the ideal fireplace is made with the chimney on the outside of the cabin, at the middle of the end farthest from the door. for this you must cut a hole in the end log, like a big, low window, pegging a jamb on the ends as before. with stones and mud you now build a fireplace inside the shanty, with the big chimney carried up outside, always taking care that there are several inches of mud or stone between the fire and any of the logs. in country where stone cannot be found, the fireplace is often built of mud, sustained by an outside cribbing of logs. if the flue is fair size, that is, say one quarter the size of the fireplace opening, it will be sure to draw. the bunk should be made before the chinks are plastered, as the hammering is apt to loosen the mud. cut eight or ten poles a foot longer than you need the bunk; cut the end of each into a flat board and drive these between the long logs at the right height and place for the bunk, supporting the other end on a crosspiece from a post to the wall. put a very big pole on the outer side, and all is ready for the bed; most woodsmen make this of small fir boughs. there are two other well-known ways of cornering the logs--one is simply flattening the logs where they touch. this, as well as the first one, is known in the backwoods of canada as hog-pen finish. the really skilful woodsmen of the north always dovetail the comers and saw them flush: (fig. ) sometimes it is desirable to make a higher gable than that which one ridge log can make. then it is made thus: (fig. .) this is as much slope as a clay roof should have; with any more, the clay would wash off. this is the simplest way to build a log-cabin, but it illustrates all the main principles of log building. shingle roofs and gables, broad piazzas outside, and modern fitting inside, are often added nowadays in summer camps, but it must be clear that the more towny you make the cabin, the less woodsy it is, and less likely to be the complete rest and change that is desired. for fuller instructions, see "log-cabins and cottages." by. wm. s. wicks, . (pub. forest and stream, n. y.) { } also, "the jack of all trades." by dan c. beard, scribner's; and "field and forest handy book." measuring distances (see "two little savages," .) the height of a tree is easily measured when on a level, open place, by measuring the length of its shadow, then comparing that with your own shadow, or that of a ten-foot pole. thus, the ten-foot pole is casting a fifteen-foot shadow, and the tree's shadow is one hundred and fifty feet long, apply the simple rule of three. : :: : x = but it is seldom so easy, and the good old rule of the triangle can be safely counted on: get a hundred or more feet from your tree, on open ground, as nearly as possible on the level of its base. set up a ten-foot pole (a b, page ). then mark the spot where the exact line from the top of the tree over the top of the pole touches the ground (c). now measure the distance from that spot (c) to the foot of the ten-foot pole (b); suppose it is twenty feet. measure also the distance from that spot (c) to the base of the tree (d); suppose it is one hundred and twenty feet, then your problem is: : :: : x = i.e., if at that angle twenty feet from the eye gives ten feet elevation, one hundred and twenty feet must give sixty. _to make a right angle_, make a triangle whose sides are exactly six, eight, and ten feet or inches each (or multiples of these). the angle opposite the ten must be a true right angle. [illustration: to make a right angle.] there are many ways of measuring distance across rivers, etc., without crossing. the simplest, perhaps, is by the equilateral triangle. cut three poles of exactly equal length; peg them together into a triangle. lay { } this on the bank of the river so one side points to some point on the opposite bank. drive in three pegs to mark the exact points of this triangle (a,b,c). then move it along the bank until you find a place (f,e,g) where its base is on line with the two pegs, where the base used to be, and one side in line with the point across the river (d). the width of the river is seven eighths of the base of this great triangle. [illustration: measuring the width of a river by sighting with a triangle. (tr)] another method is by the isosceles triangle. make a right-angled triangle as above, with sides six, eight, and ten feet (a,b,c); then, after firmly fixing the right angle, cut down the eight-foot side to six feet and saw off the ten-foot side to fit. place this with the side d b on the river bank in line with the sight object (x) across. put three pegs to mark the three { } corner places. then take the triangle along the bank in the direction of c until c' d' are in line with the sight object, while b' c' is in line with the pegs b c. then the length of the long base b c' will equal the distance from b to x. [illustration: measuring height of tree.] [illustration: measuring the distance between two distant objects.] to measure the space between two distant objects, d and e. line a b on one, then move this right-angled triangle until f g is lined on the other, with b g in line with g h. b g equals the space between d and e then. if the distance is considerable, it may be measured sometimes by sound. thus, when a gun is fired, a man is chopping, or a dog barking, count the seconds between the sight and the hearing of the sound, and multiply by eleven hundred feet, which is the distance sound travels in a second. [illustration: to climb a tree that is too thick--place small tree against it.] { } occasionally, the distance of an upright bank, cliff, or building can be measured by the echo. half the seconds between shout and echo, multiplied by eleven hundred gives the distance in feet. the usual way to estimate long distances is by the time they take to cover. thus, a good canoe on dead water goes four to five miles an hour. a man afoot walks three and a half miles an hour on good roads. a packtrain goes two and a half miles an hour, or perhaps one and a half on the mountain trails. a man's thumb is an inch wide. span of thumb and longest finger, nine inches. brisk walking pace is one yard for men. what to do when lost in the woods (ladies' home journal, october, .) "did you ever get lost in the woods?" i once asked a company of twenty campers. some answered, "yes; once or twice." others said, "many a time." only two said, "no, never." then i said, turning to the two, "i know that all the others here have had plenty of experience, and that you two are the tenderfeet, and never lived in the woods." it is quite certain to come sooner or later; if you go camping, you will get lost in the woods. hunters, indians, yes, birds and beasts, get lost at times. you can avoid it for long by always taking your bearings and noting the landscape before leaving the camp, and this you should always do; but still you will get lost some time, and it is well to be ready for it by carrying matches, knife, and compass. when you do miss your way, the first thing to remember is, like the indian, "you are not lost; it is the teepee that is lost." it isn't serious. it cannot be so unless you do something foolish. the first and most natural thing to do is to get on a hill, up a tree, or other high lookout, and seek for some landmark near camp. you may be sure of this much: you are not nearly so far from camp as you think you are. your friends will soon find you. you can help them best by signaling. the worst thing you can do is to get frightened. the truly dangerous enemy is not the cold or the hunger so much as the fear. it is fear that robs the wanderer of his judgment and of his limb power; it is fear that turns the passing experience into a final tragedy. only keep cool and all will be well. { } if there is snow on the ground, you can follow your back track. if you see no landmark, look for the smoke of the fire. shout from time to time, and wait; for though you have been away for hours it is quite possible you are within earshot of your friends. if you happen to have a gun, fire it off twice in quick succession on your high lookout; then wait and listen. do this several times and wait plenty long enough--perhaps an hour. if this brings no help, send up a distress signal--that is, make two smoke fires by smothering two bright fires with green leaves and rotten wood, and keep them at least fifty feet apart, or the wind will confuse them. two shots or two smokes are usually understood to mean "i am in trouble." those in camp on seeing this should send up one smoke, which means, "camp is here." if you have a dog or a horse with you, you may depend upon it he can bring you out all right; but usually you will have to rely on yourself. the simplest plan, when there is fresh snow and no wind, is to follow your own track back. no matter how far around or how crooked it may be, it will certainly bring you out safely. if you are sure of the general direction to the camp and determined to keep moving, leave a note pinned on a tree if you have paper; if not, write with charcoal on a piece of wood, and also make a good smoke, so that you can come back to this spot if you choose. but make certain that the fire cannot run, by clearing the ground around it and by banking it around with sods. and mark your course by breaking or cutting a twig every fifty feet. you can keep straight by the sun, the moon, or the stars, but when they are unseen you must be guided by the compass. i do not believe much in guidance by what are called nature's compass signs. it is usual to say, for example, that the north side of the tree has the most moss or the south side the most limbs, etc. while these are true in general, there are so many exceptions that when alarmed and in doubt as to which is north, one is not in a frame of mind to decide with certainty on such fine points. if a strong west wind, for example, was blowing when you left camp, and has blown ever since, you can be pretty sure it is still a west wind; but the only safe and certain natural compass guides are the sun, moon, and stars. the pole or north star, and the great bear (also called the dipper and the pointers), should be known to every boy as they are to every indian. the pointers always point out the { } pole-star. of course, they go around it once in twenty-four hours, so this makes a kind of clock. the stars, then, will enable you to keep straight if you travel. but thick woods, fog, or clouds are apt to come up, and without something to guide you are sure to go around in a circle. old woodsmen commonly follow down the streams. these are certain to bring you out somewhere; but the very worst traveling is along the edges of the streams, and they take you a long way around. all things considered, it is usually best to stay right where you are, especially if in a wild country where there is no chance of finding a farm house. make yourself comfortable for the night by gathering plenty of good wood while it is daylight, and building a wind screen on three sides, with the fire in front, and something to keep you off the ground. do not worry but keep up a good fire; and when day comes renew your two smokes and wait. a good fire is the best friend of a lost man. i have been lost a number of times, but always got out without serious trouble, because i kept cool. the worst losing i ever got was after i had been so long in the west that i qualified to act as a professional guide, and was engaged by a lot of eastern farmers looking for land locations. this was in the october of on the upper assiniboin. the main body of the farmers had remained behind. i had gone ahead with two of them. i took them over hundreds of miles of wild country. as we went northward the country improved. we were traveling with oxen, and it was our custom to let them graze for two hours at noon. one warm day, while the oxen were feeding, we went in our shirt sleeves to a distant butte that promised a lookout. we forgot about the lateness till the sun got low. even then i could have got back to camp, but clouds came up and darkness fell quickly. knowing the general direction i kept on, and after half an hour's tramp we came to a canyon i had never seen before. i got out my compass and a match and found that i had been circling, as one is sure to do in the dark. i corrected the course and led off again. after another brief turn i struck another match and learned from the compass that i was again circling. this was discouraging, but with corrected course we again tramped. i was leading, and suddenly the dark ground ten feet ahead of me turned gray. i could not make it out, so went cautiously nearer. i lay down, reached forth, and then slowly made sure that we were on the edge of a steep precipice. i backed off, { } and frankly told the men i did not know where we were. i got out my match box and compass and found i had but one match left. "any of you got any matches?" i asked. "no; left 'em all in our coats," was their answer. "well," said i, "i have one. shall i use it to get a new course from the compass, or shall we make a fire and stay here till morning?" all voted to camp for the night. there was now a cold rain. we groped into a hollow where we got some dead wood, and by using our knives got some dry chips from the inside of a log. when all was ready we gathered close around, and i got out the one match. i was about to strike it when the younger of the men said: "say, seton, you are not a smoker; jack is. hadn't you better give him that match?" there was sense in this. i have never in my life smoked. jack was an old stager and an adept with matches. i handed it to him. "rrrp-fizz"--and in a minute we had a fire. with the help of the firelight we now found plenty of dead wood; we made three blazing fires side by side, and after an hour we removed the centre one, then raked away all the hot ashes, and all lay down together on the warm ground. when the morning came the rain ceased. we stretched our stiffened limbs and made for camp. yes, there it was in plain view two miles away across a fearful canyon. three steps more on that gloomy night and we should have been over the edge of that canyon and dashed to the bottom. how to make fire by rubbing sticks "how do the indians make a fire without matches?" asked a boy who loved to "play indian." most of us have heard the answer to this. "the indians use a flint and steel, as our own fathers and mothers did one hundred years ago, and before they had flint and steel they used rubbing-sticks." we have all read about bringing fire out of two sticks by rubbing them together. i tried it once for an hour, and i know now i never would have got it in a thousand years as i was doing it. others have had the same experience; consequently, most persons look upon this as a sort of fairy tale, or, if they believe it to be true, they think it so difficult as to be worth no second thought. all scouts, i find, are surprised and greatly interested to learn that not only is it possible, it is easy, to make a friction { } fire, if you know how; and hopeless, if you don't. i have taught many boys and men (including some indians) to do it, and some have grown so expert that they make it nearly as quickly as with an old-fashioned sulphur match. when i first learned from walter hough, who learned from the indians, it took me from five to ten minutes to get a blazing fire--not half an hour, as some books have it. but later i got it down to a minute, then to thirty-one seconds from the time of taking up the rubbing-sticks to having a fine blaze, the time in getting the first spark being about six seconds. my early efforts were inspired by book accounts of indian methods, but, unfortunately, i have never yet seen a book account that was accurate enough to guide anyone successfully in the art of fire-making. all omit one or other of the absolute essentials, or dwell on some triviality. the impression they leave on those who know is that the writers did not. the surest and easiest method of making a friction fire is by use of the bow-drill. two sticks, two tools, and some tinder are needed. the two sticks are the drill and the fire-board, or fire-block. the books generally tell us that these must be of different kinds of wood. this is a mistake. i have uniformly gotten the best results with two pieces of the same kind--all the better, indeed, if they are parts of the same stick. what kind of wood this is a very important question, as woods that are too hard, too soft, too wet, too oily, too gummy, or too resinous will not produce fire. the wood should be soft enough to wear away, else it produces no punk, and hard enough to wear slowly, or the heat is not enough to light the punk, and, of course, it should be highly inflammable. those that i have had the best luck with are balsam fir, cottonwood roots, tamarack, european larch, red cedar, white cedar, oregon cedar, basswood, cypress, and sometimes second-growth white pine. it should always be a dry, sound stick, brash, but not in the least punky. in each part of the country there seems to be a kind of wood well suited for fire-making. the eastern indians used cedar; the northern indians, cedar or balsam fir; the plains indians used cottonwood or sage-brush roots. perhaps the most reliable of all is dry and seasoned balsam fir; either the species in the north woods or in the rockies will do. it gives a fine big spark or coal in about seven seconds. { } when in the grinding the dust that runs out of the notch is coarse and brown, it means that the wood is too soft; when it is very fine and scanty it means that the wood is too hard. [illustration: the rubbing-sticks for fire-making.] . the simplest kind of bow; a bent stick with a stout leather thong fastened at each end. it is about inches long and / inch thick. . a more elaborate bow with a hole at each end for the thong. at the handle end it goes through a disc of wood. this is to tighten the thong by pressure of the hand against the disc while using. . simplest kind of drill-socket; a pine or hemlock knot with a shallow hole or pit in it. a is under view of same. it is about - / inches long. . a more elaborate drill-socket; a pebble cemented with gum in a wooden holder. a is under view of same. . a very elaborate drill-socket; it is made of tulip wood, carved to represent the thunderbird. it has eyes of green felspar cemented in with resin. on the under side ( a) is seen, in the middle, a soapstone socket let into the wood and fastened with pine gum, and on the head a hole kept filled with grease, to grease the top of the drill before use. . the drill; to inches long and about / inch thick; it is roughly eight-sided so the thong will not slip, and pointed at each end. the best wood for the drill is old, dry brash, but not punky, balsam fir or cottonwood roots; but basswood, white cedar, red cedar, tamarack, and sometimes even white pine, will do. . fire-board or block; about / inch thick and any length handy; a is notch with pit just begun, b shows the pit after once using and in good trim for second time, c shows the pit bored through and now useless; the notch is / inch wide and / inch deep. . shows the way of using the sticks. the block (a) is held down with one foot, the end of the drill (b) is put in the pit, the drill-socket (c) is held on top in left hand, one end of the bow (d) is held in the right hand, while the bow is drawn back and forth. . is a little wooden fire-pan, not essential but convenient; its thin edge is put under the notch to catch the powder that falls. { } i have made many experiments to determine whether there is anything in the idea that it is better to have the block and the drill of different woods. but no hybrid combination was so successful as "two of a kind." the drill and the bow and socket are fully described in the illustration. the preparing of the fire-board is one of the most important things. at the edge cut a notch half an inch wide and about three fourths of an inch deep; at the top of this notch make a pit or shallow hole, and the board is ready. the importance of this notch is such that it is useless to try fire-making without it. while these are the essentials, it is well to get ready, also, some tinder. i have tried a great many different kinds of lint and punk, including a number that were artificially prepared, soaked with saltpetre or other combustibles. but these are not really fair play. the true woodcrafter limits himself to the things that he can get in the woods, and in all my recent fire-making i have contented myself with the tinder used for ages by the red men: that is, cedar wood finely shredded between two stones. some use the fringes that grow on birch, improving it by rubbing in powdered charcoal. now that he has the tools and material ready, it will be an easy matter for the matchless castaway to produce a fire. pass the leather thong once around the drill--and this should make the thong taut; put the lower point of the drill in the pit at the top of the notch in the fire-board, and hold the socket with the left hand on top of the drill. the notch of the fire-board should be resting on a chip or thin wooden tray. hold the bow by the handle end in the right hand, steady the board under the left foot, and the left arm against the left knee. now draw the bow back and forth with steady, even strokes, its full length. this causes the drill to turn in the pit and bore into the wood; ground-up wood runs out of the side of the notch, falling on the chip or tray. at first it is brown; in two or three seconds it turns black, and then smokes; in five or six seconds it is giving off a cloud of smoke. a few more vigorous strokes of the bow, and now it will be found that smoke still comes from the pile of black wood-dust on the chip. fan this gently with the hand; the smoke increases, and in a few seconds you see a glowing coal in the middle of the dust. (there are never any visible flying sparks.) now take a liberal pinch of the cedar tinder--about a teaspoonful; wrap this in some bark fibre or shredded rope to { } keep it from blowing away. hold it down on the coal, and, lifting tray and all, blow or fan it until in a few seconds it blazes. carefully pile over it the shreds of birch bark or splinters of fat pine prepared beforehand, and the fire is made. if you have the right wood and still cannot get the fire, it is likely because you do not hold the drill steady, or have not cut the side notch quite into the middle point of the little fire pit. the advantages of learning this method are threefold: first: fire-making by friction is an interesting experiment in woodcraft. second: a boy is better equipped having learned it. he can never afterward freeze to death for lack of matches if he has wood and an old shoe lace. third: for the very reason that it is difficult, compared with matches, it tends to prevent the boys making unnecessary fires, and thus reduces the danger of their setting the woods ablaze or of smoking the forbidden cigarette. there is such a fascination in making the rubbing-stick fire that one of my western cooks, becoming an expert, gave up the use of matches for a time and lit his morning fire with the fire-drill, and, indeed, he did not find it much slower than the usual way. walter hough told me a story of an apache indian who scoffed at the matches of white men, and claimed that he could light a fire with rubbing-sticks faster than hough could with matches. so each made ready. they were waiting for the word "go" when the indian said: "wait. i see if him right." he gave a few strokes with the drill, and called--"stop--stop him no good." he rearranged the sticks, and tried a few more strokes. just as mr. hough was going to strike the match, he said: "stop--stop him no good." he did this three times before he called "ready." then the word "go" was given. the white man struck the slow, sizzling match. the indian gave half a dozen twirls to the drill--the smoke burst forth. he covered it with the tinder, fanned a few seconds, then a bright flame arose, just before the white man got his twigs ablaze. so the indian won, but it was by an indian trick; for the three times when he pretended to be trying it, he was really warming up the wood--that is, doing a large part of the work. i am afraid that, deft as he was, he would have lost in a fair race. yet this incident shows at least that, in point of speed, the old rubbing-sticks are not very far behind the matches, as one might have supposed. { } it is, indeed, a wonder that the soldiers at west point are not taught this simple trick, when it is so easily learned, and might some day be the one thing to save the lives of many of them. archery no woodcraft education is complete without a knowledge of archery. it is a pity that this noble sport has fallen into disuse. we shall find it essential to some of our best games. the modern hunting gun is an irresistible weapon of wholesale murder, and is just as deadly no matter who pulls the trigger. it spreads terror as well as death by its loud discharge, and it leaves little clew as to who is responsible for the shot. its deadly range is so fearfully great as to put all game at the mercy of the clumsiest tyro. woodcraft, the oldest of all sciences and one of the best, has steadily declined since the coming of the gun, and it is entirely due to this same unbridled power that america has lost so many of her fine game animals. the bow is a far less destructive weapon, and to succeed at all in the chase the bowman must be a double-read forester. the bow is silent and it sends the arrow with exactly the same power that the bowman's arm puts into it--no more, no less--so it is really his own power that speeds the arrow. there is no question as to which hunter has the right to the game or is responsible for the shot when the arrow is there to tell. the gun stands for little skill, irresistible force supplied from an outside source, overwhelming unfair odds, and sure death to the victim. the bow, on the other hand, stands for all that is clever and fine in woodcraft; so, no guns or fire-arms of any kind are allowed in our boy scout camp. the indian's bow was short, because, though less efficient, it was easier to carry than a long one. yet it did not lack power. it is said that the arrow head sometimes appeared on the far side of the buffalo it was fired into, and there is a tradition that wah-na-tah, a sioux chief, once shot his arrow through a cow buffalo and killed her calf that was running at the other side. but the long bow is more effective than the short one. the old english bowmen, the best the world has ever seen, always shot with the long bow. the finest bows and arrows are those made by the professional makers, but there is no reason why each boy should not make his own. according to several authorities the best bow woods are mulberry, osage-orange, sassafras, southern cedar, black locust, { } apple, black walnut, slippery elm, ironwood, mountain ash, hickory, california yew, and hemlock. take a perfectly sound, straight, well-seasoned stick five or six feet long (your bow should be about as long as yourself); mark off a five-inch space in the middle for the handle; leave this round and a full inch thick; shave down the rest, flat on one side for the front and round on the other for the back, until it is about one inch wide and three fourths of an inch thick next the handle, tapering to about one half that at the ends, which are then "nocked," nicked, or notched as shown in cut i. these notches are for the string, which is to be put on early. draw the bow now, flat side out, not more than the proper distance, and note carefully which end bends the most; then shave down the other side until it bends evenly. the middle scarcely bends at all. the perfect shape, when bent, is shown in cut ii. trim the bow down to your strength and finish smoothly with sandpaper and glass. it should be straight when unstrung, and unstrung when not in use. fancy curved bows are weak affairs. the bow for our boy should require a power of fifteen or twenty pounds (shown on a spring balance) to draw the string twenty-three inches from the bow; not more. the best string is of hemp or linen; it should be about five inches from the middle of the bow when strung (cut ii). the notches for the string should be two-thirds the depth of the string. if you have not a bought string make one of strong, unbleached linen thread twisted together. at one end the string, which is heaviest at the ends, should be fast knotted to the bow notch (cut v); at the other it should have a loop as shown in cut iv. in the middle it should be lashed with fine silk and wax for five inches, and the exact place marked where the arrow fits it. the arrow is more important than the bow. anyone can make a bow; few can make an arrow, for, as a seminole indian expressed it to maurice thompson, "any stick do for bow; good arrow much heap work, ugh." hiawatha went all the way to dakota to see the famous arrow maker. in england when the bow was the gun of the country, the bow maker was called a "bowyer," and the arrow maker a "fletcher" (from the norman fleche, an arrow). so when men began to use surnames those who excelled in arrow making were proud to be called the "fletchers "; but to make a good bow was not a notable achievement, hence few took "bowyer" as their name. the first thing about an arrow is that it must be perfectly straight. "straight as an arrow" refers to the arrow itself, not to its flight; that is always curved. { } [illustration: the archery outfit (not all on scale.)] i. the five-foot bow as finished, with sections at the point shown. ii. the bow "braced" or strung. iii. the bow unstrung, showing the loop slipped down. iv. the loop that is used on the upper end of the bow. v. the timber hitch always used on the lower end or notch of the bow. vi. a turkey feather with split midrib, all ready to lash on. vii. end view of arrow, showing notch and arrangement of three feathers. viii. part of arrow, showing feathering and lashing. ix. sanger hunting arrow with wooden point; inches long. x. sanger war arrow with nail point and extra long feathers; it also is inches long. xi. quiver with indian design; inches long. xii. the "bracer" or arm guard of heavy leather for left arm with two laces to tie it on. it is six inches long. { } the indians made arrows of reeds and of straight shoots of viburnum or arrow-wood, and of elder, but we make better arrows out of the solid heartwood of hard pine for target use, and of hickory or ash for hunting. the arrow should be twenty-five inches long, round, and three eighths of an inch thick, and have three feathers set as shown in cut vi, about an inch from the notch. the feather b, that stands out at right angles to notch a, should always be away from the bow in shooting. this is called the cock-feather, and it is usually marked or colored in some way to be quickly distinguished. [illustration: correct form in shooting. the diagram at bottom is to show the centres of heels in line with target.] turkey and goose wing feathers are the best that grow in our country for arrow feathers. the indians mostly use turkey. with a sharp knife cut a strip of the midrib on which is the vane of the feather; make three pieces, each two to three inches long. white men glue these on to the arrow. the indians leave the midrib projecting at each end and by these lash the { } feathers without gluing. the lashed feathers stand the weather better than those glued, but do not fly so well. the indians use sharp flint arrow heads for war and for big game, but for birds and small game they make arrow heads with a knob of hard wood or the knuckle bone of some small animal. the best arrow heads for our purpose are like the ferrule of an umbrella top; they receive the end of the shaft into them and keep it from splitting. one of the best arrows i ever shot with was twenty-eight inches long, five sixteenths of an inch thick, had a ferrule head and very small feathers. the finishing touch of an arrow is "painting" it. this is done for several purposes: first, to preserve it from damp which would twist the arrow and soften the glue that holds the feathers; second, each hunter paints all his arrows with his mark so as to know them; third, they are thus made bright-colored to help in finding them when lost. there are four other things required by our archer: a smooth, hard arm-guard, or bracer, usually of hard leather. the indians who use one make it of wood, grass, or rawhide. in photographs of famous indians you may often see this on the left wrist, and will remember that it was there as a protection from the blow of the bow cord. some archers can shoot with the wrist bent so as to need no guard. the three middle fingers of the right hand also need protection. an old leather glove, with thumb and little finger cut away, will do very well for this, though the ready-made tips at the archery stores are more convenient. some archers who practise all their lives can shoot without protecting the fingers. the bow case and quiver are important. any kind of a cover that will keep them from the rain, and hang on your back, will do, but there are many little things that help to make them handy. when the cover is off the arrows should project three or four inches so that they may be more easily drawn out. the indians often carried very beautiful quivers of buckskin ornamented with quills and beads. one day out west i saw an omaha brave with a bow case and quiver covered with very odd material--a piece of common red and white cotton print. when allowed to examine it, i felt some other material underneath the print. after a little dickering he sold me bow, arrows, quiver, and all for a couple of dollars. i then ripped open the print and found my first suspicions confirmed; for, underneath, the quiver was of buckskin, beautifully embroidered with red feathers and porcupine { } quills of deep red and turquoise blue. the indian was as much puzzled by my preference for the quill work as i was by his for the cotton print. the standard target for men is four feet across with a nine-inch bull's-eye, and around that four rings, each four and three quarter inches wide. the bull's-eye counts nine, the other rings seven, five, three, one. the bought targets are made of straw, but a good target may be made of a box filled with sods, or a bank covered with sacking on which are painted the usual rings. now comes the most important point of all--how to shoot. there are several ways of holding an arrow, but only one good one. most boys know the ordinary finger and thumb pinch, or grip. this is all very well for a toy bow, but a hunter's bow cannot be drawn that way. no one has strength enough in his fingers for it. the true archer's grip of the arrow is shown in the cut. the thumb and little finger have nothing to do with it. [illustration: the archer's grip.] as in golf and all such things, there is a right "form." you attend to your end of the arrow's flight and the other will take care of itself: stand perfectly straight. plant your feet with the centres of the two heels in line with the target. (cut page .) grasp the bow in the middle with the left hand and place the arrow on the string at the left side of the bow. hold the bow plumb, and draw as above till the notch of the arrow is right under your eye, and the head of the arrow back to the bow. the right elbow must be in the same line with the arrow. let go the arrow by straightening the fingers a little, turning the hand outward at the bottom and drawing it back one inch. always do this in exactly the same way and your shooting will be even. your left hand should not move a hair's breadth until the arrow strikes the target. to begin shooting put the target very near, within fifteen or twenty yards; but the proper shooting distance when the archer is in good practice is forty yards for a four-foot target and thirty yards for a three-foot target. a good shot, shooting twelve arrows at this, should score fifty. { } the indians generally used their bows at short range, so that it was easy to hit the mark. rapid firing was important. in their archery competitions, therefore, the prize was given to the one who could have the most arrows in the air at once. their record, according to catlin, was eight. the stars as seen with the naked eye the chief works referred to in this are c. flammarion's "popular astronomy" (gore's translation), and garrett p. serviss's "astronomy with an opera glass." (those who wish to go farther a-sky are referred to these books.) whether he expects to use them as guides or not, every boy should learn the principal constellations and the important stars. a non-scientific friend said to me once: "i am always glad that i learned the principal star groups when i was young. i have never forgotten them, and, no matter in what strange country i find myself, i can always look up at night, and see the old familiar stars that shone on me in my home in my own country." all american boys know the dipper or great bear. this is, perhaps, the most important star group in our sky, because of its size, peculiar form, and the fact that it never sets in our latitude, and last, that it always points out the pole-star, and, for this reason, it is sometimes known as the pointers. it is called the dipper because it is shaped like a dipper with a long, bent handle. why it is called the great bear is not so easy to explain. the classical legend has it that the nymph calisto, having violated her vow, was changed by diana into a bear, which, after death, was immortalized in the sky by zeus. another suggestion is that the earliest astronomers, the chaldeans, called these stars "the shining ones," and their word happened to be very like the greek arktos (a bear). another explanation (i do not know who is authority for either) is that vessels in olden days were named for animals, etc. they bore at the prow the carved effigy of the namesake, and if the great bear, for example, made several very happy voyages by setting out when a certain constellation was in the ascendant, that constellation might become known as the great bear's constellation. certainly, there is nothing in its shape to justify the name. very few of the constellations, indeed, are like the thing they are { } called after. their names were usually given for some fanciful association with the namesake, rather than for resemblance to it. the pole-star is really the most important of the stars in our sky; it marks the north at all times; it alone is fixed in the heavens: all the other stars seem to swing around it once in twenty-four hours. it is in the end of the little bear's tail. but the pole-star, or polaris, is not a very bright one, and it would be hard to identify but for the help of the dipper, or pointers. the outside (alpha and beta) of the dipper points nearly to polaris, at a distance equal to three and one half times the space that separates these two stars of the dipper's outer side. various indians call the pole-star the "home star," and "the star that never moves," and the dipper they call the "broken back." the last star but one in the dipper, away from the pole--that is, the star at the bend of the handle,--is known to astronomers as mizar, one of the horses; just above it, and tucked close in, is a smaller star known to astronomers as alcor, or the rider. the indians call these two the "old squaw and the pappoose on her back." in the old world, from very ancient times, these have been used as tests of eyesight. to be able to see alcor with the naked eye means that one has excellent eyesight. so also on the plains, the old folks would ask the children at night, "can you see the pappoose on the old squaw's back?" and when the youngster saw it, and proved that he did by a right description, they rejoiced that he had the eyesight which is the first requisite of a good hunter. the great bear is also to be remembered as the pointers for another reason. it is the hour-hand of the woodman's clock. it goes once around the north star in about twenty-four hours, the same way as the sun, and for the same reason--that it is the earth that is going and leaving them behind. the time in going around is not exactly twenty-four hours, so that the position of the pointers varies with the seasons, but, as a rule, this for woodcraft purposes is near enough. the bowl of the dipper swings one and one half times the width of the opening (i.e., fifteen degrees) in one hour. if it went a quarter of the circle, that would mean you had slept a quarter of a day, or six hours. { } each fifteen days the stars seem to be an hour earlier; in three months they gain one fourth of the circle, and in a year gain the whole circle. according to flammarion, there are about seven thousand stars visible to the naked eye, and of those but nineteen are stars of the first magnitude. thirteen of them are visible in the latitude of new york, the other six belong to the south polar region of the sky. here is flammarion's arrangement of them in order of seeming brightness. those that can be seen in the southern hemisphere only, are in brackets: . sirius, the dog-star. . [canopus, of argo.] . [alpha, of the centaur.] . arcturus, of bootes. . vega, of the lyre. . rigel, of orion's foot. . capella, of auriga. . procyon, or the little dog-star. . betelguese, of orion's right shoulder. . [beta, of the centaur.] . [achernar, of eridanus.] . aldebaran, of taurus, the bull's right eye. . antares, of scorpio. . [alpha, of the southern cross.] . altair, of the eagle. . spica, of virgo. . fomalhaut, of the southern fish. . [beta, of the southern cross.] . regulus, of the lion. orion orion (o-ri-on), with its striking array of brilliant stars, betelguese, rigel, the three kings, etc., is generally admitted to be the finest constellation in the heavens. orion was the hunter giant who went to heaven when he died, and now marches around the great dome, but is seen only in the winter, because, during the summer, he passes over during daytime. thus he is still the hunter's constellation. the three stars of his belt are called the "three kings." sirius, the great dog-star, is in the head of orion's hound, and following farther back is the little dog-star, procyon. in old charts of the stars, orion is shown with his hound, hunting the bull, taurus. { } [illustration: taurus. orion, sirius and procyon. (tr)] pleiades pleiades (ply-a-des) can be seen in winter as a cluster of small stars between aldebaran and algol, or, a line drawn from the back bottom, through the front rim of the dipper, about two dipper lengths, touches this little group. they are not far from aldebaran, being on the shoulder of the bull, of which aldebaran is the right eye. they may be considered the seven arrow wounds made by orion. they are nearer the pole-star than aldebaran is, and on the side away from the dipper; also, they are nearly on a line between beta of the dipper (front bottom) and capella. serviss tells us that the pleiades have a supposed connection with the great pyramid, because "about b. c., when the beginning of spring coincided with the culmination of the pleiades at midnight; that wonderful group of stars was visible { } just at midnight, through the mysterious southward-pointing passage of the pyramid." the moon the moon is one fifth the diameter of the earth, about one fiftieth of the bulk, and is about a quarter million miles away. its course, while very irregular, is nearly the same as the apparent course of the sun. but "in winter the full moon is at an altitude in the sky near the limit attained by the sun in summer, . . . and even, at certain times, five degrees higher. it is the contrary in summer, a season when the moon remains very low" (f.). the moon goes around the earth in - / days. it loses nearly three fourths of an hour each night; that is, it rises that much later. birdcraft _by the national association of audubon societies_ any boy who cares enough for out-doors to be a scout is sure to want a good acquaintance with the birds. even dull people cannot help taking notice of our "little brothers of the air," on account of their beauty, their songs, and their wondrous flight. but most folks never take the trouble to try and learn the names of any except a few common birds. scouts whose eyes are sharp and ears are keen will find the study of birds a fascinating sport, which may prove to be the best fun that the woods provide. knowing the birds it is no easy matter, this trying to get to know the birds; but scouts are not looking for the easiest jobs, and it is great sport for them to follow some shy songster through the briery thicket until a really good look can be had, to sit stock still for half an hour to watch some unknown bird come home to her nest, or to wriggle on all fours through the grass to have a glimpse over the top of the knoll at the ducks in the pool beyond. the only equipment necessary for bird study is an opera or field glass, a note-book and a good bird reference book. as soon as you get a good look at a strange bird, notice its colors and markings, and then, if it moves, follow it up until you have seen practically all of its most prominent features. it will be impossible to carry these facts in your head, and unless some definite memorandum is made at the time you will probably { } be hopelessly perplexed when you go to consult the bird book later. as it is hard to jot down satisfactory notes in the field, while catching fleeting glances of some timid bird, a handy little booklet has been prepared in which observations can be recorded very rapidly. these can be procured for fifteen cents apiece from the national association of audubon societies, broadway, new york city. location _______________________ _______________________ date _______________________hour _______________________ weather ___________________wind _______________________ [illustration: a bird. (tr)] size: smaller than wren between wren and sparrow between sparrow and robin between robin and crow larger than crow seen near ground or high up in heavy woods bushy places orchard garden swamp open country near water name ______________________ order ______________________ family _______________________ genus_______________________ species ______________________ { } each booklet contains outline figures of the five leading types of birds: ( ) small perching birds, ( ) hawks, ( ) snipes, ( ) herons, ( ) ducks. on the page opposite is a list of numbers corresponding to colors. you can quickly mark on the outline the proper numbers, and note with your pencil any marks on the bird. then check the other data on the page, add any additional memoranda, and you have your "bird in the hand," ready to take back and look up at your leisure. careful observation notice particularly the "range" of the birds in your reference book, and eliminate all those not stated as occurring in your territory. notice too, dates of the birds' coming and going, and do not expect to find species at any other time of year than within the dates mentioned. by thus narrowing down the possibilities the task is much simplified. as a final resort, the national association of audubon societies stands ready to help all scouts who are positively "stumped," and if the descriptive slips are mailed with return envelopes to the secretary of the association, broadway, new york city, an identification will be made, if the information furnished renders it in any way possible. the next time you see a bird that you have once identified, you will probably remember its name, and in this way you will be surprised to find how rapidly your bird acquaintance will grow. after a time even the flight of a bird or its song will be enough to reveal an old acquaintance, just as you can often recognize a boy friend by his walk or the sound of his voice, without seeing his face. and what a new joy in life there is for anybody that really knows the birds about him. he can pick from the medley of bird songs the notes of the individual singers; he knows when to look for old friends of the year before; no countryside is ever lonely for him, for he finds birds everywhere and knows that any moment he may make some rare discovery or see a bird before unknown to him. bird lists a scout should make a list of all the birds he has positively identified. this is his "life list" and is added to year by year. in addition he will keep daily lists of the birds seen on special trips in the field. two or more patrols can enjoy a friendly rivalry by covering different regions and seeing which can observe the largest variety of birds. hundreds of well-known { } ornithologists often have the fun of this kind of competition, sending in their lists to a central bureau. as many as one hundred and twenty different kinds of birds have been counted in a single day by one energetic band of bird-lovers. such a list is, however, attainable only under exceptionally favorable circumstances and by skilled observers who know their country thoroughly. for most scouts, thirty to forty species on a summer day, and fifty to sixty during the spring migration, would be regarded as a good list. boy scouts [illustration: bob-white at feeding station.] nesting season undoubtedly the most interesting season to study birds is during the nesting period which is at its height in june. it takes a pair of sharp eyes to find most birds' nests in the first place, and once found, there are dozens of interesting little incidents which it is a delight to watch. only a foolish scout would rob himself of his chance to observe the secrets of nest life by stealing the contents, or would take any delight in piling up a collection of egg shells whose value at its best is almost nothing, and whose acquisition is necessarily accompanied by { } genuine heart pangs on the part of the rightful owners. it is more exciting to try to hide yourself near the nest so skilfully that the birds will carry on their domestic duties as though you were not near. a blind made of green cloth and set up near the nest like a little tent will often give opportunity for very close observation. it is surprising how near many birds will allow one to come in this way. even though the blind looks very strange and out of place, the birds soon seem to get used to it, so long as it is motionless and the inmate cannot be seen. a simple type of blind can be constructed by sewing the edges of long pieces of green cloth together, drawing in the top with a cord, and then draping it over an open umbrella. [illustration: bird blind.] how to photograph from such a hiding place, photographs can often be secured of timid birds at their nests. in attempting to take photographs it must be remembered that cameras of the pocket variety or fixed box type are almost useless. most of them cannot be worked without special attachments at closer range than six feet, and, even if the focus is correctly guessed, the image is apt to be very small. in this work it is far better to invest in a cheap camera (second-hand if need be) with which one can obtain a definite image on the ground glass where the plate or film is to be. focus the camera on some spot where it is expected the bird will come; usually this is on the nest or young, sometimes it is the food, a favorite perch, or some form of decoy. the next requisite is patience. if the coveted opportunity arrives, set off the shutter by hand in the { } blind, or, where this is not possible, by means of a long thread, after carefully hiding the camera with boughs, leaves, sods, etc. how to know an idea of the details of a bird's life which a scout may come to know, may be had from the following table: . description. (size, form, color, and markings.) . haunts. (upland, lowland, lakes, rivers, woods, fields. etc.) . movements. (slow or active, hops, walks, creeps, swims, tail wagged, etc.) . appearance. (alert, listless, crest erect, tail drooped, etc.) . disposition. (solitary, flocking, wary, unsuspicious, etc.) . flight. (slow, rapid, direct, undulating, soaring, sailing, flapping, etc.) . song. (pleasing, unattractive, long, short, loud, faint, sung from the ground, from a perch, in the air, etc. season of song.) . call notes. (of surprise, alarm, protest, warning, signaling, etc.) . season. (spring, fall, summer, winter, with times of arrival and departure and variations in numbers.) . food. (berries, insects, seeds, etc.; how secured.) . mating. (habits during courtship.) . nesting. (choice of site, material, construction, eggs, incubation, etc.) . the young. (food and care of, time in the nest, notes, actions, flight, etc.) so varied is a bird's life that there is still plenty to be learned about even our common birds. it is quite possible for a scout to discover some facts that have never yet been published in books. [illustration: red-breasted nuthatch.] what one boy did a boy once originated the idea of varying the usual "bird's nesting" craze into a systematic study of the breeding of our common birds. in one spring he found within the limits of a single village one hundred and seventy robins' nests. "one hundred were in suitable situations on private places, forty-one were in woods, swamps and orchards, eight were placed under bridges (two being under the iron girders of the railroad bridge), four were { } in quarries, sixteen were in barns, sheds, under piazzas, etc., and one was on the ground at the foot of a bush." in addition to searching out the birds in their natural haunts, there is a great fascination in trying to attract them to our homes. during winter evenings boy scouts can busy themselves making nesting boxes. even an old cigar box or a tomato can with a hole in it the size of a quarter will satisfy a house wren. other boxes which are suitable for bluebirds, chickadees, tree swallows, purple martins, and starlings, will, if set up in march, often have tenants the very first season. in many cases it is feasible to have hinged doors or sides on the nesting boxes, so that they may occasionally be opened and the progress of events within observed. it is needless to add, however, that great caution must be exercised to prevent desertion of the nest, or other disturbance of the birds' home life. under favorable circumstances, even some of the shyer inhabitants of the woods, such as woodpeckers, owls, and ducks can be induced to patronize artificial cavities, if they are made right and erected right. [illustration: downy woodpecker.] [illustration: observation box, open.] caring for birds another way of attracting birds in summer is by providing drinking and bathing places. a little artificial pool protected from cats, will be a source of joy to the birds and of delight to the observer from morning to night. apply to the { } national association of audubon societies for information as to where ready-made nest boxes and fountains can be procured, also books on this subject, as well as on the subject of making friends of the birds through feeding. [illustration: house wren and tomato-can house] [illustration: birch-bark house] the bird lunch counter how best to feed the birds is almost an art in itself. a winter lunch counter spread with suet, nuts, hemp seed, meat, and crumbs will attract nuthatches, chickadees, downy and hairy woodpeckers, creepers, blue jays, etc. canary seed, buckwheat, oats and hay-chaff scattered on the ground beneath will provide an irresistible banquet for other feathered boarders. a feeding place of this sort can be arranged for convenient observation from a window, and afford no end of diversion and instruction. but whether close to home or far afield, the great secret of success in such work is regularity. begin to put the food out early in november, and let the birds get to know that they are always sure to find a supply of dainties in a certain spot, and the news will soon spread among them. in wintry weather, especially, it is amazing what can be accomplished by feeding the birds regularly, and at least the following birds have been induced to feed from the human hand: chickadee, white-breasted nuthatch, red-breasted nuthatch, brown creeper, carolina wren, cardinal, evening grosbeak, tufted titmouse, canada jay, florida jay, oregon jay, and redpoll. even in spring untiring patience has resulted in the gratification of this supreme ambition of the bird-lover, and bluebird, robin, cat-bird: chipping sparrow, oven-bird, brown thrasher and yellow-throated vireo have been known to feed from the hand of a trusted friend, even with plenty of food all around. what scout can add to this list? protecting the birds many a boy thinks that just because a bird is alive and moves it is a proper target for his air rifle or his sling shot. { } let us be thankful that there has now arisen a new class of boys, the scouts, who, like the knights of old, are champions of the defenceless, even the birds. scouts are the birds' police, and wo betide the lad who is caught with a nest and eggs, or the limp corpse of some feathered songster that he has slaughtered. scouts know that there is no value in birds that are shot, except a few scientific specimens collected by trained museum experts. scouts will not commend a farmer for shooting a hawk or an owl as a harmful bird, even though it were seen to capture a young chicken. they will post themselves on the subject and find that most hawks and owls feed chiefly on field mice and large insects injurious to the farmer's crops, and that thus, in spite of an occasional toll on the poultry, they are as a whole of tremendous value. the way the birds help mankind is little short of a marvel. a band of nuthatches worked all winter in a pear orchard near rochester and rid the trees of a certain insect that had entirely destroyed the crop of the previous summer. a pair of rose-breasted grosbeaks were seen to feed their nest of youngsters four hundred and twenty-six times in a day, each time with a billful of potato-bugs or other insects. a professor in washington counted two hundred and fifty tent caterpillars in the stomach of a dead yellow-billed cuckoo, and, what appeals to us even more, five hundred bloodthirsty mosquitoes inside of one night-hawk. [illustration: white-breasted nuthatch] [illustration: bluebird at entrance of nesting-box] it must not be forgotten that large city parks are among the best places for observing birds. as an example of what can be accomplished, even with limited opportunities, there was a boy who happened to know where some owls roosted. { } now all owls swallow their prey whole, and in digesting this food they disgorge the skulls, bones, fur, and feathers in the form of hard dry pellets. this boy used to go out on saturday or sunday afternoon and bring home his pockets full of pellets, and then in the evening he would break them apart. in this way he learned exactly what the owls had been eating (without killing them) and he even discovered the skulls of certain field mice that naturalists had never known existed in that region. he let the owl be his collector. patrol work it is a good idea to keep at patrol headquarters a large sheet on the wall, where a list of the year's bird observations can be tabulated. each time a new bird is seen, its name is added, together with the initial of the observer, and after that its various occurrences are noted opposite its name. the keenest eyed scouts are those whose initials appear most frequently in the table. in addition, the tables will show the appearance and relative abundance of birds in a given locality. for patrols of young boys, a plan of tacking up a colored picture of each bird, as soon as it is thoroughly known, has been found very successful, and the result provides a way to decorate the headquarters. such pictures can be obtained very cheaply from the perry pictures co., boston, mass., or the national association of audubon societies, broadway, new york city. mollusca--shells and shellfish _by dr. william healey dall, of the united states geological survey_ [illustration: fig. ; white lipped snail (polygyra albolabris)] among the shy and retiring animals which inhabit our woods and waters, or the borders of the sea, without making themselves conspicuous to man except when he seeks the larger ones for food, are the mollusca, usually confounded with crabs and crayfish under the popular name of "shellfish," except the few which have no external shell, which are generally called slugs. hardly any part of the world (except deserts) is without them, but, shy as they are, it takes pretty sharp eyes to find them. some come out of their hiding places { } only at night, and nearly all our american kinds live under cover of some sort. the mollusks can be conveniently divided into three groups: those which inhabit fresh water, those which breathe air and live on dry land, and lastly those which are confined to the sea. the land shells, or snails, have generally thin shells of spiral form and live upon vegetable matter, many of them laying small eggs which look like minute pearls. their hiding places are under leaves in shady or moist places, under the bark of dead trees or stumps, or under loose stone. they creep slowly and are most active after rain. some of our larger kinds are an inch or two in diameter, (see fig. ., the white-lipped) but from this size there are others diminishing in size to the smallest, which are hardly larger than the head of a pin, in collecting them the little ones may be allowed to dry up. the big ones must be killed in boiling water, when the animal can be pulled out with a hook made of a crooked pin, leaving the shell clean and perfect. the slugs are not attractive on account of the slime which they throw out and can only be kept in spirits. some of the species found in california are as large as a small cigar, but those of the states east of the rocky mountains are smaller and have mostly been introduced from europe, where they do a lot of mischief by eating such garden plants as lettuce. many of the fresh-water snails are abundant in brooks and ponds, and their relations, the fresh-water mussels, are often very numerous in shallow rivers. they have a shell frequently beautifully pearly, white or purple, and sometimes have the brown outer skin prettily streaked with bright green. [illustration: fig. whelk (buccinum umatum)] [illustration: fig. pond snail (lymnaea palustris)] the principal fresh-water snails are the pond snail (_lymnaea_; see fig. ); the _physa_ (see fig. ), which is remarkable for having the coil turned to the left instead of the right; and the orb-snail, (_planorbis_: see fig. ) which has its coil flat. all of { } these lay minute eggs in a mass of transparent jelly, and are to be found on lily pads and other water plants, or crawling on the bottom, while the mussels bury themselves more or less in the mud or lie on the gravelly bottom of streams. there is also a very numerous tribe of small bivalve shells, varying from half an inch to very minute in size, which are also mud lovers and are known as sphaerium or pisidium, having no "common" english names, since only those who hunt for them know of their existence. on the seashore everybody knows the mussel (mytilus: see fig. ), the soft clam, the round clam, and the oyster, as these are sought for food; but there is a multitude of smaller bivalves which are not so well known. the sea-snails best known on the coast north of chesapeake bay are the whelk (buccinum: see fig. ), the sand snail or natica, which bores the round holes often found in clam shells on the beach, in order to suck the juices of its neighbors, and the various kinds of periwinkles (rock snails or littorina) found by the millions on the rocks between tides. these, as well as the limpets, small boat-shaped or slipper-shaped conical shells found in similar places, are vegetable feeders. altogether, there are several hundred kinds found on the seashore and the water near the shore, and a collection of them will not only contain many curious, pretty, and interesting things, but will have the advantage of requiring no preservative to keep them in good condition after the animal has been taken out. [illustration: fig. orb-shell (planorbis trivolvis)] [illustration: fig. black mussel (mytilus)] [illustration: fig. bubble snail (physa heterostropha)] the squids, cuttle-fishes, octopus, and their allies are also mollusks, but not so accessible to the ordinary collector, and can only be kept in spirits. books which may help the collector to identify the shells he may find are: for the land and fresh-water shells: { } "mollusks of the chicago area" and "the lymnaeidae of north america." by f. c. baker. published by the chicago academy of sciences. for the american marine shells: bulletin no. . published by the united states national museum, at washington. for shells in general: "the shell book." published by doubleday, page & co., garden city, n.y. on the pacific coast the "west coast shells," by prof. josiah keep of mills college, will be found very useful. reptiles _by dr. leonhard stejneger, curator national museum_ by reptiles we understand properly a certain class of vertebrate or backboned animals, which, on the whole, may be described as possessing scales or horny shields since most of them may be distinguished by this outer covering, as the mammals by their hair and the birds by their feathers. such animals as thousand-legs, scorpions, tarantulas, etc., though often erroneously referred to as reptiles, do not concern us in this connection. among the living reptiles we distinguish four separate groups, the crocodiles, the turtles, the lizards, and the snakes. the crocodiles resemble lizards in shape, but are very much larger and live only in the tropics and the adjacent regions of the temperate zone. to this order belongs our north american alligator, which inhabits the states bordering the gulf of mexico and the coast country along the atlantic ocean as far north as north carolina. they are hunted for their skin, which furnishes an excellent leather for traveling bags, purses, etc., and because of the incessant pursuit are now becoming quite rare in many localities where formerly they were numerous. the american crocodile, very much like the one occurring in the river nile, is also found at the extreme southern end of florida. the turtles are easily recognized by the bony covering which encases their body, and into which most species can withdraw their heads and legs for protection. this bony box is usually covered with horny plates, but in a large group, the so-called soft-shell turtles, the outer covering is a soft skin, thus forming a { } notable exception to the rule that reptiles are characterized by being covered with scales or plates. while most of the turtles live in fresh water or on land, a few species pass their lives in the open ocean, only coming ashore during the breeding season to deposit their eggs. some of these marine turtles grow to an enormous size, sometimes reaching a weight of over eight hundred pounds. one of them is much sought for on account of the delicacy of its flesh; another because of the thickness and beauty of its horny plates which furnish the so-called tortoise-shell, an important article of commerce. turtles appear to reach a very old age, specimens having been known to have lived several hundred years. the box tortoise of our woods, the musk turtles, the snapping turtles are familiar examples of this order, while the terrapin, which lives in brackish ponds and swamps along our sea-coasts, is famous as a table delicacy. [illustration: harlequin snake] the lizards are four-legged reptiles, usually of small size, living on the ground or in the trees, out very rarely voluntarily entering water. the so-called water lizards are not lizards at all, but belong to the salamanders and are distinguished by having a naked body not covered with scales. most of the true lizards are of very graceful form, exceedingly quick at running; others display the most gorgeous coloration which, in many of them, such as the chameleons, changes according to the light, or the temperature, or the mood of the animal. not all of them have four legs, however, there being a strong tendency to develop legless species which then externally become so much like snakes that they are told apart with some difficulty. thus our so-called glass-snake, common in the southern states, is not a snake at all, but a lizard, as we may easily see by observing the ear openings on each side of the head, as no snake has ears. this beautiful animal is also known as the joint-snake, and both names have reference to the exceeding brittleness of its long tail, which often breaks in many pieces in the hands of the enemy trying to capture the lizard. that these pieces ever join and heal together is of course a silly fable. as a matter of fact, the body in a comparatively short time grows a new tail, which, however, is much shorter and stumpier than the old one. the new piece is often of a different color from the rest of the body and { } greatly resembles a "horn," being conical and pointed, and has thus given rise to another equally silly fable, viz., that of the horn snake, or hoop snake, which is said to have a sting in its tail and to be deadly poisonous. the lizards are all perfectly harmless, except the sluggish gila monster (pronounced heela, named from the gila river in arizona) which lives in the deserts of arizona and mexico, and whose bite may be fatal to man. the poison glands are situated at the point of the lower jaw, and the venom is taken up by the wound while the animal hangs on to its victim with the tenacity of a bulldog. all the other lizards are harmless in spite of the dreadful stories told about the deadly quality of some of the species in various parts of the country. [illustration: rattlesnake palate] the snakes form the last group of the reptiles. universally legless, though some of the boas and pythons have distinct outer rudiments of hind limbs, they are not easily mistaken. and it is perhaps well so, for unless one is an expert at distinguishing between the poisonous and the harmless kind it is just as well to keep at a respectful distance from them. it is safest not to interfere with them, especially as those that are not poisonous are usually very useful in destroying rats and mice and other vermin, except perhaps those living in trees and feeding on eggs and young birds, which certainly do not deserve our protection. of course the rattlesnake is not to be mistaken. the horny appendix to its tail, with which it sounds the warning of its presence, is enough to distinguish it. it should here be explained that both lizards and snakes at various intervals shed the outer layer of their skin, the so-called epidermis. this transparent layer, after a certain length of time, loosens and is usually stripped off whole by the animal crawling out of it and turning it inside out, as a tight glove is turned. now, at the end of a rattlesnake's tail there is a horny cap which is { } called the button, and being narrowed at the base and more strongly built than the rest of the epidermis it is not shed with the rest of the skin, but remains attached. thus for each shedding a new joint or ring is added to the rattle. how often the shedding takes place depends on various circumstances and may occur an uncertain number of times each year. such a rattle, loose-jointed as it is, is rather brittle and the tip of the sounding instrument is easily broken and lost. it will therefore be easily understood that the common notion that a rattlesnake's age can be told by the number of the rings in its rattle is absolutely erroneous. another equally common and equally erroneous notion relates to the tongue of the snake, which the ignorant often term its "sting" and which they believe to be the death-dealing instrument. of course, the soft, forked tongue which constantly darts out and in of the snake's mouth is perfectly harmless. it serves rather as a "feeler" than as a taste organ. the wound is inflicted by a pair of large, curved, teeth or fangs, in the upper jaw. these fangs are hollow and connected by a duct with the gland on the side of the head, in which the poison is formed. pressure on this gland at the time of the strike--for our poisonous snakes strike rather than bite--squirts the poison into the wound like a hypodermic syringe. the fangs when shed or damaged are replaced within a short time with new ones, so that a poisonous snake can only be made harmless for a short period by breaking them off. only in exceptional cases need snake bites prove fatal. it is estimated that in north america only about two persons in a hundred bitten are killed by the poison, though many more die from carelessness or bad treatment, the worst of which is the filling up with whiskey, which aids the poison rather than counteracts it. the essential things in case of snake bite are: ( ) keeping one's wits; ( ) tying a string, or the like, tightly around the wounded limb between the wound and the heart, and loosening it about once in fifteen minutes, so as to admit the poison slowly into the circulation; ( ) making the wound bleed freely by enlarging it with a knife or otherwise; ( ) if permanganate of potash be handy it should at once be applied to the { } wound; ( ) treat the wound as antiseptically as it is possible with the means at hand and hurry to a doctor. [illustration: copperhead] the danger depends greatly on the amount of the poison injected, hence upon the size of the snake. it is for this reason that the big florida rattlesnakes which grow to six feet and over are more to be feared than are other poisonous snakes. of these, we have in our country, besides the rattlesnakes, the water moccasin, or cotton mouth, the copperhead, and the coral snake. the latter is a bright-colored snake of red, yellow, and black rings found in the south, but it is usually small, and not aggressive, so that but few cases of poisoning are known. the other two are common enough, the former from norfolk, va., south, the other all over the eastern country from texas to massachusetts. they are usually confounded, however, with two perfectly harmless snakes, the cotton mouth with the common water snake, the copperhead with the so-called spreading adder, but as their differences have to be learned from actual inspection and are very hard to express in a description which would help to identify living specimens, it is wisest to keep away from all of them. see "the poisonous snakes of north america." by leonard stejneger, published by government printing office, washington. [illustration: water moccasin] [illustration: chrysalis] insects and butterflies _united states bureau of entomology_ (illustrations are copies from comstock's "how to know the butterflies," through courtesy of d. appleton & company.) there is an advantage in the study of insects over most other branches of nature, excepting perhaps plants, in that there is plenty of material. you may have to tramp miles to see a certain bird or wild animal, but if you will sit down on the first patch of grass you are sure to see something going on in the insect world. butterflies nearly all insects go through several different stages. the young bird is very much like its parent, so is the young squirrel or a young snake or a { } young fish or a young snail; but with most of the insects the young is very different from its parents. all butterflies and moths lay eggs, and these hatch into caterpillars which when full grown transform to what are called pupae or chrysalids--nearly motionless objects with all of the parts soldered together under an enveloping sheath. with some of the moths, the pupae are surrounded by silk cocoons spun by the caterpillars just before finally transforming to pupae. with all butterflies the chrysalids are naked, except with one species which occurs in central america in which there is a common silk cocoon. with the moths, the larger part spin cocoons, but some of them, like the owlet moths whose larvae are the cutworms, have naked pupre, usually under the surface of the ground. it is not difficult to study the transformations of the butterflies and moths, and it is always very interesting to feed a caterpillar until it transforms, in order to see what kind of a butterfly or moth comes out of the chrysalis. take the monarch butterfly, for example: this is a large, reddish-brown butterfly, a strong flier, which is seen often flying about in the spring and again in the late summer and autumn. this is one of the most remarkable butterflies in america. it is found all over the united states. it is one of the strongest fliers that we know. it passes the winter in the southern states as an adult butterfly, probably hidden away in cracks under the bark of trees or elsewhere. when spring comes the butterflies come out and begin to fly toward the north. wherever they find the milk-weed plant they stop and lay some eggs on the leaves. the caterpillars issue from the eggs, feed on the milkweed, transform to chrysalids; then the butterflies issue and continue the northward flight, stopping to lay eggs farther north on other milkweeds. by the end of june or july some of these southern butterflies have found their way north into canada and begin the return flight southward. along in early august they will be seen at the summer resorts in the catskill mountains, and by the end of october they will have traveled far down into the southern states where they pass the winter. [illustration: empty chrysalis and butterfly] the caterpillar of the monarch or milkweed butterfly is a very striking creature. it is nearly two inches long when full grown. its head is yellow striped with black; its body is white with narrow black and yellow cross-stripes on each { } segment. on the back of the second segment of the thorax there is a pair of black, whiplash-like filaments, and on the eighth joint there is a similar shorter pair. when this caterpillar gets ready to transform to chrysalis, it hangs itself up by its tail end, the skin splits and gradually draws back, and the chrysalis itself is revealed--pale pea-green in color with golden spots. anyone by hunting over a patch of milkweed anywhere in the united states during the summer is quite apt to find these caterpillars feeding. it will be easy to watch them and to see them transform, and eventually to get the butterfly. the same thing may be done with anyone of the six hundred and fifty-two different kinds of butterflies in the united states. [illustration: larva getting ready to transform] [illustration: full grown larva] moths when it comes to moths, there is a much greater variety. instead of six hundred and fifty-two, there are fifty-nine hundred and seventy in doctor dyar's big catalogue. perhaps the most interesting of these caterpillars are the big native silk-worms, like those of the cecropia moth, the luna moth, the polyphemus moth, or the promethia moth. these caterpillars are very large and are to be found feeding upon the leaves of different trees, and all spin strong silken cocoons. people have tried to reel these cocoons, thinking that they might be able to use the silk to make silk cloth as with the domestic silk-worm of commerce, but they have been unable to reel them properly. the polyphemus moth, for example, has been experimented with a great deal. it is found over a greater part of the united states, and its caterpillar feeds upon a great variety of trees and shrubs such as oak, butternut, hickory, basswood, elm, maple, birch, chestnut, sycamore, and many others. the caterpillar is light green and has raised lines of silvery white on the side. it grows to a very large size and spins a dense, hard cocoon, usually attached to leaves. there { } are two generations in the southern states, and one in the northern states. the moth which comes out of the cocoon has a wing spread of fully five inches. it is reddish-gray or somewhat buff in color with darker bands near the edge of the wings, which themselves are pinkish on the outside, and with a large clear spot near the centre of the forewing and a regular eyespot (clear in part and blue in the rest) in the centre of the hind wing. one wishing to know about butterflies and moths should consult a book entitled, "how to know the butterflies," by prof. j. h. comstock of cornell university and his wife, mrs. comstock, published by d. appleton & co., of new york, or, "the butterfly book," by dr. w. j. holland of pittsburg, published by doubleday, page & co., of new york, and "the moth book," also by doctor holland, and published by the same firm. [illustration: caterpillar to chrysalis] other insects there are many more different kinds of insects than there are of flowering plants, and if we were to add together all of the different kinds of birds, mammals, reptiles, fishes, crabs, mollusks, and all of the lower forms of animal life, they would not all together amount to so many different kinds as there are insects. this makes the classification of insects quite complicated. there are eighteen or nineteen main orders, and each one is subdivided almost indefinitely. there is not one of these that is not full of interest. the habits of ants, for example, living in communities by themselves, afford a tremendous opportunity for interesting observation. a good book about them has been recently written by dr. w. m. wheeler, of harvard, entitled "ants, their structure, development, and behavior," published by the columbia university press, new york. { } many insects live in the water, and to follow their life histories in small home-made aquaria is one of the most interesting occupations one could have, and there is a lot to be learned about these insects. go to any stagnant pool and you will find it swarming with animal life: larvae or "wigglers" of mosquitoes, and a number of other aquatic insects will be found, feeding upon these wigglers. water bugs of different kinds will be found and the life histories of most of these were until quite recently almost unknown. beetles and wasps the order _coleoptera_, comprising what we know as beetles, has thousands of species, each one with its own distinctive mode of life; some of them feeding upon other insects, others boring into wood, others feeding upon flowers, others upon leaves, and so on in endless variety. the wasps also will bear study. here, too, there is a great variety, some of them building the paper nests known to every one, others burrowing into the surface of the ground and storing up in these burrows grasshoppers and other insects for food for their young which are grub-like in form; others still burrowing into the twigs of bushes, and others making mud nests attached to the trunks of trees or to the clapboards of houses or outbuildings. this is just a hint at the endless variety of habits of insects. the united states national museum publishes a bulletin, by mr. nathan banks, entitled "directions for collecting and preserving insects," which gives a general outline of the classification, and should be possessed by everyone who wishes to take up the study from the beginning. fishes _by dr. hugh m. smith, deputy commissioner united states fisheries_ there is no more fascinating and profitable study than the fish life of the lakes, ponds, rivers, brooks, bays, estuaries, and coasts of the united states; and no more important service can be rendered our american boys than to teach them to become familiar with our native food and game fishes, to realize their needs, and by example and precept to { } endeavor to secure for the fishes fair consideration and treatment. [illustration: _esox lucius_--common pike pickerel] [illustration: _oncorhynchus tschawytscha_--chinook salmon] [illustration: _coregonus clupeiformis_--common whitefish] [illustration: _salvelinus fontinalis_--brook trout: speckled trout] [illustration: _ictalurus punctatus_--the speckled catfish] classes of fish fishes may be roughly classified as ( ) fresh water, ( ) migratory between fresh and salt water, and ( ) marine. among the families of american fresh-water fishes that are conspicuous on account of their size, abundance, or economic importance, or all of these, there may be mentioned the sturgeons, the catfishes, the suckers, the minnows or carps, the pikes, the killifishes, the trouts, salmons, and whitefishes, the perches, and the basses, and sun fishes. migratory fish the migratory fishes fall into two groups, the anadromous and the catadtomous. the anadromous fishes pass most of their lives in the sea, run up stream only for the purpose of spawning, and constitute the most valuable of our river fishes. in this group are the shads and the alewives or river herrings, the white perch, the striped bass or rock fish, some { } of the sturgeons, and the atlantic salmon, all of which go back to sea after spawning, and the pacific salmons (five species), all of which die after spawning. of the catadromous fishes there is a single example in our waters--the common eel. it spends most of its life in the fresh waters and sometimes becomes permanently landlocked there, and runs down to the sea to spawn, laying its eggs off shore in deep water. marine fish the marine fishes that are found in the coastal waters of the united states number many hundred species, some of them of great value as food. among the most important are cod, haddock, hake, halibut, flounder, herring, bluefish, mackeral, weakfish or squeteague, mullet, snapper, drum, and rock fishes. [illustration: _perea flavescens_--yellow perch] [illustration: _pomolobus altivalis_--the alewife or river herring] [illustration: _micropterus salmoides_--large-mouth black bass] [illustration: _notropis hudsonius_--minnow or shiner] [illustration: _acipenser oxyrhynchus_--the atlantic sturgeon] studying fish the study of living fishes is most entertaining and is rendered somewhat difficult by the medium in which they live, by their { } shyness, and by the necessity of approaching closely in order to obtain any accurate view. the spawning, feeding, swimming and other habits of very few of our fishes are so well known that further information thereon is not needed; and the boy scout's patience, skill, and powers of observation will be reflected in the records that may be and should be kept about the different fishes met with. fishes may be studied from a bank, wharf, or boat, or by wading; and the view of the bottom and the fishes on or adjacent thereto may be greatly improved by the use of a "water bucket"--an ordinary wooden pail whose bottom is replaced by a piece of window glass. a more elaborate arrangement for observation is to provide at the bow of a row-boat a glass bottom box over which may be thrown a hood so that the student is invisible to the fishes. [illustration: _fundulus diaphanus_--killifish: top minnow] [illustration: _catostomus commersonii_--common sucker: white sucker] identification of specimens while many of the fishes in a given section are easily recognizable, there are in every water fishes which, on account of their small size, rarity, retiring habits, or close similarity to other fishes, are unknown to the average boy. these latter fishes often afford the most interesting subjects for study; and in all parts of the country it is possible for energetic observers and collectors to add to the list of fishes already recorded from particular districts. when fishes cannot be identified in the field, the larger ones may be sketched and notes taken on their color, while the smaller ones may be preserved with salt, formalin, or any kind of spirits. specimens and drawings may be forwarded for identification to the zoological department of the local state university, to the state fish commission, to the bureau of fisheries, washington, d. c., or to the united states national museum in the same city. { } angling this most delightful of outdoor pastimes requires for its enjoyment no elaborate or expensive paraphernalia: a rod cut on the spot, a cork float, an ordinary hook baited with angleworm, grasshopper, grub, may-fly, or any of a dozen other handy lures, will answer for most occasions. at the same time, the joys of fishing will often be increased if one possesses and learns how to use a light, jointed rod, with reel, fine line, and artificial baits. the necessary equipment for scientific angling is so light and compact that it should form a part of the outfit of every one who spends much time in the open air. it should be the invariable practice of anglers to return to the water all uninjured fish that are not needed for food or study. "it is not all of fishing to fish," and no thoughtful boy who has the interests of the country at heart, and no lover of nature, will go fishing merely for the purpose of catching the longest possible string of fish, thus placing himself in the class of anglers properly known as "fish hogs." special service by boy scouts valuable service may be rendered by boy scouts in all parts of the country by bringing to the attention of the proper state, county, or municipal authorities matters affecting the welfare of the fishes. among the subjects that should be reported to fish commissioners, fish wardens, or local legal officers are: ( ) all cases noticed where fish are being killed by dynamite, poisons, or other illegal and improper means. ( ) threatened destruction of fish by the drying of streams or ponds. ( ) the existence of obstructions to the passage of fish on their way to their spawning grounds. all dams in streams in which are migratory fish should have fish-ways or fish-ladders. aquarium _william leland stowell, m. d._ every boy should have an aquarium. the aquarium will give ten times as much pleasure as annoyance, and the longer time you have one undisturbed the greater will be its revelations. a simple tank can be made from a large water bottle or demijohn. file a line around the top and carefully break it off. for the back yard, cut a paint barrel in two or coat a tub inside with spar varnish. anything that will hold a few gallons of water, two inches of clean sand, and some water plants will be a suitable home for fish and other creatures. a boy handy with tools can make a frame, and with plate glass and proper cement construct a large tank. { } starting the aquarium you can balance your aquarium by plenty of plants. as they grow they give off oxygen which purifies the water and is breathed by the fish. the water need not be changed for years. the swamps and slow streams afford great numbers of plants. if you know the plants get pond weeds, canadian water weed, ludwigia, willow moss, or tape grass. (look in the dictionary for official names of the plants or get special books from the library.) take some tape grass (vallisneria) to your teacher or doctor and ask him to show you under his microscope how the sap flows and the green coloring matter is deposited. the simplest form of vegetation is algae which grows on the sides of the tank. lest this grow too thick, put in a few snails. watch the snails' eggs develop in clusters. buy if you cannot find banded swamp snails that give birth to their young instead of laying eggs. any pond or stream will furnish fish that are beautiful or interesting to watch, e.g., killies, sunfish, cat-fish, carp, shiners, blacknosed dace, minnows--the mud minnow that seems to stand on his tail--darters, etc. if you get your supply from dealers, buy gold fish, of which there are several varieties, fan-tailed, comets, fringe tails and telescope eyed. mirror carp are lively. paradise fish are as beautiful as butterflies. [illustration: a balanced aquarium] fish nests every one knows something of birds' nests. did you ever watch sticklebacks build their barrel-like nest, or the paradise fish his floating nest, and the father fish take all the care of the young? did you ever see the newt roll her eggs in small leaves, or the caddis fly make a case of bits of stick, leaves, and sand? for a real marvel watch a pair of diving spiders weave their balloon-like nest under water and actually carry air down to fill it, so that the young may be dry though submerged. { } put in a few fresh-water clams and insects in variety, water boatmen, diving spiders, and whirligigs. a tank of beetles will be full of interest. always add two or three tadpoles as scavengers, and watch their legs grow out as the tail grows short and they become frogs. you can find or buy a variety of turtles which will soon be tame and eat from your fingers. do not keep turtles with fish. on every hike or tramp carry a wide-mouthed bottle for specimens and a piece of rubber cloth in which to bring home water plants. fish can be carried wrapped in damp moss for hours and will be found well and lively when put in the aquarium. fish food fish require very little food other than the minute creatures that develop in the water. the dealers supply proper foods for aquaria, or you can prepare your own. fine vermicelli is good for gold fish, scraped lean beef is just what the sunfish and paradise fish want. ant eggs suit many fish, and powdered dog biscuit will fill many mouths. it is evident that an article so brief as this is only suggestive. the libraries contain many books of which two are recommended: "home aquarium and how to care for it." by eugene smith, . published by dutton, new york. "book of aquaria." by bateman and bennett, . published by l. upcott gill, strand, w. c., london. rocks and pebbles _united states geological survey_ geologists study the materials of the earth's crust, the processes continually changing its surface, and the forms and structures thus produced. in a day's tramp one may see much under each of these heads. the earth's crust is made up chiefly of the hard rocks, which outcrop in many places, but are largely covered by thin, loose, surface materials. rocks may be igneous, which have cooled from a melted condition; or sedimentary, which are made of layers spread one upon another by water currents or waves, or by winds. igneous rocks, while still molten, have been forced into other rocks from below, or poured out on the surface from volcanoes. they are chiefly made of crystals of various minerals, such as quartz, felspar, mica, and pyrite. granite often contains large crystals of felspar or mica. some igneous rocks, especially lavas, are glassy; others are so fine grained that the crystals cannot be seen. in places one may find veins filling cracks in the rocks, and { } made of material deposited from solution in water. many valuable minerals and ores occur in such veins, and fine specimens can sometimes be obtained from them. { } [illustration: fold in stratified rock] [illustration: wearing the soft and hard beds by rain and wind] [illustration: quartz vein in rock] { continued} sedimentary rock are formed of material usually derived from the breaking up and wearing away of older rocks. when first deposited, the materials are loose, but later, when covered by other beds, they become hardened into solid rock. if the layers were of sand, the rock is sandstone; if of clay, it is shale. rocks made of layers of pebbles are called conglomerate or pudding-stone; those of limy material, derived perhaps from shells, are limestone. many sedimentary rocks contain fossils, which are the shells or bones of animals or the stems and leaves of plants living in former times, and buried by successive beds of sand or mud spread over them. much of the land is covered by a thin surface deposit of clay, sand, or gravel, which is yet loose material and which shows the mode of formation of sedimentary rocks. some rocks have undergone, since their formation, great pressure or heat and have been much changed. they are called metamorphic rocks. some are now made of crystals though at first they were not; in others the minerals have become arranged { } in layers closely resembling the beds of sedimentary rocks; still others, like slate, tend to split into thin plates. the earth's surface is continually being changed; the outcropping hard rock is worn away by wind and rain, and is broken up by frost, by solution of some minerals, etc. the loose material formed is blown away or washed away by rain and deposited elsewhere by streams in gravel bars, sand beds, and mud flats. the streams cut away their beds, aided by the sand and pebbles washed along. thus the hills are being worn down and the valleys deepened and widened, and the materials of the land are slowly being moved toward the sea, again to be deposited in beds. [illustration: wave-cut cliff with beach and spit built by waves and currents] along the coast the waves, with the pebbles washed about, are wearing away the land and spreading out its materials in new beds elsewhere. the shore is being cut back in some places and built out in others. rivers bring down sand and mud and build deltas or bars at their mouths. volcanoes pour out melted rock on the surface, and much fine material is blown out in eruptions. swamps are filled { } by dead vegetable matter and by sand and mud washed in. these materials form new rocks and build up the surface. thus the two processes, the wearing down in some places and the building up in others, are tending to bring the surface to a uniform level. another process, so slow that it can be observed only through long periods of time, tends to deform the earth's crust and to make the surface more irregular. in times past, layers of rock once horizontal have been bent and folded into great arches and troughs, and large areas of the earth's surface have been raised high above sea-level. [illustration: rock ledge rounded smooth and scratched by ice] [illustration: sand-dune with wind-rippled surface] at almost any rock outcrop the result of { } the breaking-up process may be seen; the outer portion is softer, more easily broken, and of different color from the fresh rock, as shown by breaking open a large piece. the wearing away of the land surface is well shown in rain gullies, and the carrying along and depositing of sand and gravel may be seen in almost any stream. in the northern states and canada, which at one time were covered by a great sheet of ice, moving southward and grinding off the surface over which it passed, most of the rock outcrops are smoothly rounded and many show scratches made by pebbles dragged along by the ice. the hills too have { } smoother and rounder outlines, as compared with those farther south where the land has been carved only by rain and streams. along the coast the wearing away of the land by waves is shown at cliffs, found where the coast is high, and by the abundant pebbles on the beaches, which are built of material torn from the land by the waves. sand bars and tidal flats show the deposition of material brought by streams and spread out by currents. sand dunes and barrens illustrate the carrying and spreading out of fine material by the wind. [illustration: slab containing fossil shells] [illustration: conglomerate or pudding-stone] in many regions the beds of sedimentary rocks, which must have been nearly horizontal when formed, are now found sloping at various angles or standing on edge, the result of slow deforming of these beds at an earlier time. as some beds are more easily worn away than others, the hills and valleys in such regions owe their form and position largely to the different extent to which the harder and softer beds have been worn down by weather and by streams. the irregular line of many coasts is likewise due to the different hardness of the rocks along the shore. it is by the study of the rocks and of the remains of life found in them, by observing the way in which the surface of the earth is being changed and examining the results of those changes and by concluding that similar results were produced in former times in the same way, that geologists are able to read much of the past history of the earth, uncounted years before there were men upon it. plants, ferns, and grasses _by dr. l. c. corbett, horticulturist, united states bureau of plant industry_ the appearance of the blossoms and fruits of the fields and forests in any locality note the advent and progress of the seasons more accurately than does the calendar. plants and seeds which have lain asleep during the winter are awakened not by the birth of a month, but by the return of heat and moisture in proper proportions. this may be early one year and late another, but, no matter what the calendar says, the plants respond to the call and give evidence of spring, summer, or autumn as the case may be. the surface of the earth is not flat. we have valleys and we have mountains; we have torrid and we have temperate zones. the plant life of the world has been adjusted to these varied conditions, and as a result we have plants with certain characteristics growing in the tropics at sea-level, but a very different class of plants with { } different habits and characteristics inhabiting the elevated regions of this same zone. it must be remembered that even under the tropics some of the highest mountains carry a perpetual snow-cap. there is therefore all possible gradations of climate from sea-level to the top of such mountains, even at the equator, and plant life is as a result as varied as is climate. each zone, whether determined by latitude or by altitude, possesses a distinctive flora. but altitude and latitude are not the only factors which have been instrumental in determining the plants found in any particular locality. this old earth of ours has not always been as we see her to-day. the nature we know and observe is quite different from that which existed in earlier ages of the earth's history. the plants, the trees, and the flowers that existed upon the earth during the age when our coal was being deposited were very different from those we now have. there has been a change, but, strange as it may seem, there are in some places upon the earth to-day some of the same species of plants which were abundant during the coal-forming periods. these are among the oldest representatives of the plant world now extant. then we are told that there was a period when the north temperate zone was covered with a great ice field which crowded down as far as southern pennsylvania and central ohio. this naturally brought about a profound change in the location and character of the plants of this region. there are in the black hills of dakota species of plants which have no relatives anywhere in the prairie region, and no means is known by which these representatives of a rocky mountain family could find their way into the black hills, save that, previous to the ice age, this species was generally scattered over the territory, and that, during the ice age, the species was perpetuated in the hills, but was killed out between there and the rocky mountains where it is found in abundance. these are some of the natural reasons for the existence of varied plants in different localities. they are sufficient to explain the reason for the existence of local floras. but nature has provided untold ways for the perpetuation as well as the dispersal of plants for the purpose of, so far as possible, enabling the plants of the world to take possession of all parts of the earth's surface. if this adjustment were complete, the plants would be practically alike all over the surface of the earth, but we have already explained why this cannot be and why we have a different flora in each zone, whether it be marked by lines of latitude or height of { } the mountains. plants are perpetuated by seeds, by bulbs, and by woody parts. some seeds are highly perishable and must be sown as soon as ripe; others remain years without losing their power to produce plants. some grow as soon as they come in contact with the soil; others must fall, be buried and frozen before they will germinate. some plants are perpetuated by bulbs, tubers, or roots in which a supply of food material is stored away to carry the plant over a period when its above-ground parts cannot thrive owing to frost or drought. upon the return of favorable conditions, these resting parts throw out shoots and again make the round of growth, usually producing both seeds and underground parts for the preservation of the species. there are both wild and cultivated plants in nearly all sections which illustrate these methods of preservation. besides plants which have bulbs, tubers, or perennial roots, we have the large, woody plants which live many years and so perpetuate themselves, not only as individuals the same as plants with perennial roots; but they, too, as a rule, produce seed for the multiplication of their kind. { } [illustration: _pinkster flower_--it shows its pink flowers in rocky woods and thickets during spring.] [illustration: _white pine_--common evergreen tree of the northeastern states. needle-like leaves in bundles of five.] [illustration: _butterfly weed_--the bright, orange colored flowers are conspicuous in dry meadows from june to september.] [illustration: _poison ivy_--can be distinguished from the harmless woodbine by its three-lobed leaves.] { continued} the agencies which serve to spread plants about over the earth's surface are very varied and interesting. nature has provided seeds with many appendages which assist in their dispersal. some seeds have wings, and some parachutes to take advantage of the wind. some seeds are provided with hooks and stickers by which they become attached to the fur of animals and are in this way enabled to steal a free ride. other seeds are provided with edible coverings which attract birds, but the seeds themselves are hard and not digestible; the fruit is eaten and the seeds rejected and so plants are scattered. besides these methods of perpetuation and dispersal, some plants are perpetuated as well as dispersed by vegetative reproduction, i. e., by cuttings as in the case of willows; by runners as in the case of the strawberry; and by stolons as with the black raspberry. (for further information on this point see bailey's "lessons with plants.") some plant characteristics, however, of greatest interest to the scout may be enumerated. plants not only mark zones, but they indicate soils with certain characteristics, and the crop wise say that the soil on which chestnut abounds is suitable for buckwheat or peaches. plants also indicate the influence of local conditions such as lakes, ponds, or even variations in contour. a knowledge of the local flora of a region will at once tell one whether he is upon a northern or a southern hillside by the plants of the area. the creek bottom will { } abound with species not to be found on the hillsides, but species common to both plain and mountain will mark the progress of the season up the slope. in the north temperate zone the moss if any will be found growing upon the north side of the tree trunk. each hundred feet of elevation in a given latitude makes from one to two days difference in time of blooming of plants. the character of the vegetation of a region is an index to its climate. certain plants are adapted to frigid regions, others to temperate, and still others to tropical areas. some plants are adapted to humid sections, while others are admirably adjusted to desert conditions. a knowledge of these differences in plants will be of the greatest value to the scout, and if this is supplemented by information about the value and uses of the various plant products many hardships can be avoided. many plants produce valuable juices, gums, and resins, while others yield us valuable timber for building and cabinet uses. while it is impossible to even suggest the great variety of plants found within the confines of the united states, the following books on botany will be found helpful in each of the different sections for which they are designed. bibliography for the botany of the northeastern united states use: "new manual of botany," th ed. asa gray. "illustrated flora of the united states and canada." n. l. britton and hon. addison brown. for the botany of the southern united states use: "flora of the southern united states." a. w. chapman. "southern wild flowers and trees." alice lounsberry. for the botany of the rocky mountain region use: "new manual of botany of the central rocky mountains." john m. coulter; revised by aven nelson. "rocky mountain wild flower studies." burton o. longyear. "the trees of california." willis linn jepson. for general information regarding the shrubby plants of the united states use: "our shrubs of the united states." austin c. apgar. "our northern shrubs." harriet louise keeler. for the wild flowers outside of those already mentioned for the southern united states and the rocky mountain region use: "our garden flowers." harriet louise keeler. "how to know the wild flowers." frances theodora parsons. "field book of american wild flowers." f. schuyler mathews. { } for the ferns and grasses it will be found worth while to consult: "how to know the ferns." frances theodora parsons. "the fern collector's guide." willard nelson clute. "new england ferns and their common allies." helen eastman. "the grasses, sedges, and rushes of the north united states." edward knobel. for the study of the monarchs of our forests the following books will all be found exceedingly useful: "manual of the trees of north america." charles sprague sargent. "trees of the northern united states." austin c. apgar. "handbook of the trees of the northern united states and canada." romeyn beck hough. "north american trees." n. l. britton. "familiar trees and their leaves." . f. schuyler mathews. besides these, several states have issued through their state experiment stations bulletins dealing with the local plant inhabitants. in some instances these publications cover forest trees, grasses, and shrubs, either native or introduced. several of the educational institutions, as well as the experiment stations, now regularly issue nature study leaflets or bulletins which treat of popular subjects of interest in connection with outdoor things. it would be well to write the state experiment station in your state for literature of this nature. mushrooms, fungi, or toadstools _by ernest thompson seton, chief scout revised by dr. c. c. curtis_ there are thousands of different kinds of toadstools or mushrooms in the world; most of them are good to eat, yet all have a bad reputation, because some are deadly poisonous. false tests. first of all let us dispose of some ancient false tests that have led many into disaster. cooking or otherwise trying with silver proves absolutely nothing. it is believed by many that the poisonous mushrooms turn silver black. some do; some do not; and some eatable ones do. there is nothing in it. bright colors on the cap also mean nothing; many gorgeous toadstools are wholesome food. but the color of the pores { } means a great deal, and this is determined by laying the fungus cap gills down on gray paper for six or eight hours under a glass. [illustration: moose horn clavaria.] [illustration: spindle clavaria.] [illustration: club clavaria.] [illustration: golden clavaria.] poisonous toadstools of all the poisonous kinds the deadliest are the amanitas. not only are they widespread and abundant, but they are unhappily much like the ordinary table mushrooms. they have however one or two strong marks: their stalk always grows out of a "poison cup" which shows either as a cup or as a bulb; they have white or yellow gills, and white spores. the worst of these are: deathcup, destroying angel, sure-death, or deadly amanita (_amanita phalloides_) one and one half to five inches across the cup; three to seven inches high; white, green, yellowish olive, or grayish brown; { } smooth but sticky when moist; gills white; spores white; on the stem is an annulus or ring just below the cap. fly amanita (_amanita muscaria_) about the same size; mostly yellow, but ranging from orange red to or almost white; usually with raised white spots or scales on the top; gills white or tinged yellow; spores white; flesh white. hated amanita (_amanita spreta_) four to six inches high; cap three to five inches across; white, tinged with brown in places especially in the middle of the cap, where it has sometimes a bump. [illustration: deadly amanita] [illustration: fly amanita] [illustration: hated amanita] there are over a score more of amanitas varying in size and color, but all have the general style of mushrooms, and the label marks of poison, viz., white or yellow gills, a poison cup, and white spores. emetic russula (_russula emetica_) in a less degree this russula is poisonous. it is a short-stemmed mushroom, two to four inches high, about the size of the fly amanita; its cap is rosy red, pinkish when young, dark red when older, fading to straw color in age; its gills and spores white. its peppery taste when raw is a fair notice of danger. _symptoms of poisoning_: vomiting and purging, "the discharge from the bowels being watery with small flakes suspended { } and sometimes containing blood," cramps in the extremities. the pulse is very slow and strong at first but later weak and rapid, sometimes sweat and saliva pour out. dizziness, faintness, and blindness, the skin clammy, cold, and bluish, or livid; temperature low with dreadful tetanic convulsions, and finally stupor. _remedy_: "take an emetic at once, and send for a physician with instructions to bring hypodermic syringe and atropine sulphate. the dose is / of a grain, and doses should be continued heroically until / of a grain is administered, or until, in the physician's opinion, a proper quantity has been injected. where the victim is critically ill, the / of a grain may be administered." (mcillvaine & macadam.) [illustration: emetic russula: russula emetica (after marshall)] [illustration: mushrooms] wholesome toadstools important note.--experimenting with mushrooms is dangerous; it is better not to eat them unless gathered under expert direction. the common mushroom (_agaricus campestris_) known at once by its general shape and smell, its pink or brown gills, white flesh, brown spores and solid stem. coprinus also belonging to the gilled or true mushroom family are the ink-caps of the genus. they grow on dung piles and rich ground. they spring up over night and perish in a day. in the last stage the gills turn as black as ink. inky coprinus (_coprinus atramentarius_) this is the species illustrated. the example was from the woods; often it is less tall and graceful. the cap is one inch { } to three inches in diameter, grayish or grayish brown, sometimes tinged lead color. wash and stew: stew or bake from twenty to thirty minutes after thorough washing, being the recognized mode. all the clavarias or coral mushrooms are good except clavaria dichotoma which is white, and has its branches divided in pairs at each fork. it grows on the ground under beeches and is slightly poisonous; it is rare. the delicious morel (_morchella deliciosa_) one and a half to three inches high; greenish with brown hollows. there are several kindred species of various colors. this is known by the cylindrical shape of its cap. wash, slice, and stew. [illustration: inky coprinus] [illustration: morel] puffballs (_lycoperdaceae_) the next important and safe group are the puffballs before they begin to puff. all our puffballs when young and solid white inside are good, wholesome food. some of them, like the brain puffball or the giant puffball, are occasionally a foot in diameter, and yield flesh enough to feed a dozen persons. [illustration: brain puffball] [illustration: pear puffball] [illustration: cup puffball] they are well known to all who live in the country, their smooth rounded exterior, without special features except the { } roots, and their solid white interior are easily remembered. peel, slice, and fry. bibliography the following are standard and beautifully illustrated works on mushrooms and toadstools. they have been freely used for guidance and illustrations in the preparation of the above: "edible fungi of new york." by charles h. peck. published by new york state museum, albany, . "the mushroom book." by nina l. marshall. published at new york by doubleday, page & co. $ . . "one thousand american fungi." by mcillvaine and macadam. published by the bobbs-merrill company of indianapolis, . $ . . add cents express. "mushrooms." g. f. atkinson. holt & co. "the mushroom." m. e. hard. the ohio library co., columbus, ohio. common north american trees white pine (_pinus strobus_) a noble evergreen tree, up to feet high. this is the famous pine of new england, the lumberman's prize. its leaves are in bunches of five, and are to inches long; cones to inches long. wood pale, soft, straight-grained, easily split. newfoundland to manitoba and south to illinois. [illustration: white pine] [illustration: hemlock] [illustration: red cedar] { } there are many different kinds of pines. they are best distinguished by their cones. hemlock (_tsuga canadensis_) evergreen. sixty to seventy feet high. wood pale, soft, coarse, splintery, not durable. bark full of tannin. leaves / to / inches long; cones about the same. its knots are so hard that they quickly turn the edge of an axe or gap it as a stone might; these are probably the hardest vegetable growth in our woods. its topmost twig usually points easterly. nova scotia to minnesota, south to delaware and michigan. [illustration: cottonwood] [illustration: shagbark] [illustration: walnut] red cedar (_juniperus virginiana_) evergreen. any height up to feet. wood, heart a beautiful bright red; sap wood nearly white; soft, weak, but extremely durable as posts, etc. makes a good bow. the tiny scale-like leaves are to to the inch; the berry-like cones are light blue and / of an inch in diameter. it is found in dry places from nova scotia to florida and west to british columbia. cottonwood (_populus deltoides_) small and rare in the northeast, but abundant and large { } in west; even feet high. leaves to inches long. found from quebec to florida and west to the mountains. shagbark or white hickory (_hicoria ovata_) a tall forest tree up to feet high. known at once by the great angular slabs of bark hanging partly detached from its main trunk, forced off by the growth of wood, but too tough to fall. its leaves are to inches long, with to broad leaflets. black walnut (_juglans nigra_) a magnificent forest tree up to feet high. wood, a dark purplish-brown or gray; hard, close-grained, strong, very durable in weather or ground work, and heavy; fruit round, - / inches through. leaflets to , and to inches long. found from canada to the gulf. white walnut or butternut (_juglans cinerea_) a much smaller tree than the last, rarely feet high, with much smoother bark, leaves similar but larger and coarser, compound of fewer leaflets, but the leaflet stalks and the new twigs are covered with sticky down. leaves to inches long, leaflets to in number and to inches long; fruit oblong, to inches long. new brunswick and dakota and south to mississippi. common birch or aspen-leaved birch (_betula populifolia_) a small tree on dry and poor soil, rarely feet high. wood soft, close-grained, not strong, splits in drying, useless for weather or ground work. a cubic foot weighs pounds. leaves to inches long. it has a black triangular scar at each armpit. the canoe birch is without these black marks. new brunswick to ontario to pennsylvania and delaware. black birch, sweet birch, or mahogany birch (_betula lenta_) the largest of the birches; a great tree, in northern forests up to feet high. the bark is scarcely birchy, rather like that of { } cherry, very dark, and aromatic. leaves - / to inches long. newfoundland to western ontario and south to tennessee. [illustration: ashen-leaved birch] [illustration: black birch] [illustration: beech] beech (_fagus americana_) in all north america there is but one species of beech. it is a noble forest tree, to and occasionally feet high, readily distinguished by its smooth, ashy-gray bark. leaves to inches long. it shares with hickory and sugar maple the honor of being a perfect firewood. nova scotia to wisconsin, south to florida and texas. chestnut (_castanea dentata_) a noble tree, to or even feet high. the most delicious of nuts. leaves to inches long. maine to michigan and south to tennessee. red oak (_quercus rubra_) a fine forest tree, to or even feet high. hard, strong, coarse-grained, heavy. it checks, warps, and does not stand for weather or ground work. the acorn takes two { } seasons to ripen. leaves to inches long. nova scotia to minnesota, south to texas and florida. white oak (_quercus alba_) a grand forest tree, over up to feet high. wood pale, strong, tough, fine-grained, durable and heavy, valuable timber. called white from pale color of bark and wood. leaves to inches long. acorns ripen in one season. maine to minnesota, florida and texas. [illustration: chestnut] [illustration: red oak] [illustration: white oak] white elm or swamp elm (_ulmus americana_) a tall, splendid forest tree, commonly , occasionally feet high. wood reddish-brown, hard, strong, tough, very hard to split, coarse, heavy. soon rots near the ground. leaves to inches long. flowers in early spring before leafing. abundant, newfoundland and manitoba to texas. sycamore, plane tree, buttonball or buttonwood (_platanus occidentalis_) one of the largest of our trees; up to feet high; commonly hollow. little use for weather work. famous for shedding { } its bark as well as its leaves; leaves to inches long. canada to gulf. black or yellow locust, silver chain (_robinia pseudacacia_) a tall forest tree up to feet high; leaves to inches long; leaflets to , to inches long, pods to inches long, to seeded. this is the common locust so often seen about old lawns. [illustration: white elm] [illustration: sycamore] [illustration: black locust] red, scarlet, water, or swamp maple (_acer rubrum_) a fine, tall tree, often over feet high. noted for its flaming crimson foliage in fall, as well as its red leaf stalks, flowers, and fruit, earlier. leaves to inches long. like all the maples it produces sugar, though in this case not much. western north america. the sugar maple is a larger, finer tree. [illustration: red maple] [illustration: white ash] white ash (_fraxinus americana_) a fine tree on moist soil. seventy to or even feet high. yellow in autumn; noted for being last to leaf and first { } to shed in the forest. called white for the silvery under sides of the leaves; these are to inches long, each leaflet to inches long. nova scotia to texas. for a full unbotanical account of one hundred and twenty of our finest trees with their uses as wood, their properties, and the curious and interesting things about them see: "the forester's manual: or forest trees that every scout should know." by ernest thompson seton. native wild animals every scout ought to know the principal wild animals that are found in north america. he need not know them as a naturalist, but as a hunter, as a camper. here is a brief account of twenty-four of them, and those who wish to know more will find the fullest possible account in "life histories of north america," by e. t. seton. (scribners, .) these two volumes are found in all large libraries. [illustration: elk] elk or wapiti (_cervus canadensis_) this is smaller than the moose. it stands four to five feet at the shoulder and weighs four hundred to eight hundred pounds. it is known by its rounded horns and the patch of yellowish-white on the rump and tail. at one time this splendid animal was found throughout temperate america from the atlantic to the pacific, north to massachusetts, the ottawa river, the peace river, and british columbia; and south to georgia, texas, and southern california. it is now exterminated except in manitoba, saskatchewan, alberta; vancouver island, washington, wyoming and a few localities in the mountain states and in parks where it has been reintroduced. { } the elk of washington is very dark in color; that of the southwest is very pale and small. white-tailed deer (_odocoileus virginianus_) this is the best known of the common deer of america. it is distinguished by the forward bend of the horns, with the snags pointing backward, and by its long tail which is brown or blackish above and pure white below. its face is gray, its throat white. a fair sized buck weighs two hundred pounds, live weight. a few have been taken of over three hundred and fifty pounds weight. in the southern states they run much smaller. several varieties have been described. it was found formerly in all of the timber states east of the rockies; also in ontario south of lake nipissing, in south quebec and south new brunswick. at present it is exterminated in the highly cultivated states of the middle west, but has spread into northern ontario, new brunswick, and manitoba. [illustration: white-tailed deer] [illustration: mule deer] [illustration: moose] mule deer (_odocoileus hemionus_) this is the commonest deer of the hill country in the centre of the continent. it is found in the mountains from mexico to british columbia and northeasterly saskatchewan and the lake of the woods. it is known by its { } double-forked horns, its large ears, the dark patch on the forehead, the rest of the face being whitish. also by its tail which is white with a black bunch on the end. this is a larger deer than the white-tail. there are several varieties of it in the south and west. moose (_alces americanus_) this is the largest of the deer tribe. it stands five and a half to six and a half feet at the withers and weighs eight hundred to one thousand pounds. it is readily distinguished by its flat horns and pendulous, hairy muzzle. it is found in all the heavily timbered regions of canada and alaska and enters the united states in maine, adirondacks, minnesota, montana, idaho, and northwestern wyoming. those from alaska are of gigantic stature. in all our deer the antlers are grown and shed each year, reaching perfection in autumn for the mating season. they are found in the males only, except in the caribou, in which species the females also have small horns. [illustration: antelope] antelope (_antilocapra americana_) the antelope is famous as the swiftest quadruped native in america. it is a small creature, less than a common deer; a fair-sized buck weighs about one hundred pounds. it is known by its rich buff color with pure white patches, by having only two hoofs on each foot, and by the horns which are of true horn, like those of a goat, but have a snag or branch and are shed each year. in the female the horns are little points about an inch long. formerly the antelope abounded on all the high plains from manitoba to mexico and west to oregon and california. it is now reduced to a few straggling bands in the central and wildest parts of the region. mountain goat (_oreamnos montanus_) the mountain goat is known at once by its pure white coat of wool and hair, its black horns, and peculiar shape. it is { } above the size of a common deer; that is, a full grown male weighs two hundred and fifty to three hundred pounds; the female a third less. it is famous for its wonderful power as a rock climber and mountaineer. it is found in the higher rockies, chiefly above timber lines, from central idaho to alaska. [illustration: goat] [illustration: woodchuck] [illustration: beaver] woodchuck (_marmota monax_) the common woodchuck is a grizzly brown on the back, chestnut on the breast, blackish on the crown and paws, and whitish on the cheeks. its short ears and bushy tail are important characteristics. it measures about twenty-four inches of which the tail is five and a half inches and weighs five to ten pounds. it is found in all the wooded parts of canada from the rockies to the atlantic and south in the eastern states to about degrees latitude. beaver (_castor canadensis_) the beaver is known by its great size--weighing from twenty-five to fifty pounds--its chestnut color, darker on the crown, its webbed feet, and its broad, flat, naked, scaly tail. the pelt of this animal is a valuable fur. the creature is famous for building dams and digging canals. it was found wherever there was water and timber in north america north of mexico, but is now exterminated in most highly settled regions. muskrat (_fiber zibethicus_) the muskrat is about the size of a cat; that is, it is twenty-one inches long, of which the tail is ten inches. in color it somewhat resembles the beaver, but its feet are not conspicuously webbed, its tail is long and flattened vertically, not { } horizontally. this abundant animal is found throughout north america within the limit of trees wherever there is fresh water. it is the most abundant fur on the market. [illustration: muskrat] [illustration: black-tailed jack rabbit] jack rabbit (_lepus californicus_) the jack-rabbit, famous for its speed and its ears, is known by its size, which about doubles that of a common rabbit and the jet black stripe running from its back into its tail. it is found on the plains from nebraska to oregon and south to mexico. there are several different varieties. cottontail (_sylvilagus floridanus_) the common eastern cottontail is known from the snowshoe by its smaller feet and its much larger, longer tail, which is gray above, and snow-white underneath. sometimes the common tame rabbit resembles the cottontail in general color, but the latter has the top of its tail black. the cottontails do not turn white in winter. they are found in most parts of the united states, entering canada only in the ontario peninsula and southern saskatchewan. [illustration: cottontail] cougar or panther (_felis couguar_) the cougar has been called the american lion; it is the largest cat in the western world except the jaguar or american { } tiger. it is known by its unspotted brown coat, its long, heavy tail, and its size. a male cougar weighs one hundred and fifty to two hundred pounds; a few have been taken over that. the females are a third smaller. the young in first coat have black spots. the cougar never attacks man but preys on deer, horses, calves, etc. there are several different forms; one or other of these is (or was) found from ottawa, minnesota, and vancouver island to patagonia. [illustration: cougar] [illustration: lynx] [illustration: wild cat or bob cat] wild cat or bob cat (_lynx rufus_) this is somewhat like the canada lynx but is more spotted, has smaller feet, and the tail has several dark bars above and is pure white on the under side of the tip. there are several species of bob cats; they cover the timbered states and enter canada in ontario, going north to lake simcoe. fox (_vulpes fulvus_) the fox is about four feet from snout to tail tip; of this the tail is sixteen inches or more; it stands about fifteen inches at the shoulder. it rarely weighs over fifteen pounds and sometimes barely ten. the fox is known by its bright, sandy-red coat, black ears and paws, its white throat, and the white tip at the end of the tail. at a distance the fox's ears and tail look very large. the silver or black fox is a mere color freak with black coat and white tail tip. red foxes are found throughout the heavily timbered parts of north america north of latitude thirty-five degrees. gray wolf (_canis occidentalis_) the wolf is simply a big wild dog with exceptionally strong jaws and general gray color, becoming dirty white on the under part. the wolf is found in all parts of north america, except where settlement has driven it out, and varies in color with locality. the florida wolves are black, texan wolves are reddish, and arctic wolves are white. wolves weigh from { } seventy-five to one hundred and twenty pounds and are distinguishable from coyotes by the heavy muzzle and jaws, greater size, and comparatively small tail, which is often held aloft. wolves nowadays rarely molest man. coyote (_canis latrans_) the common coyote is like a small and delicate edition of the gray wolf. it is much smaller, weighing only twenty to thirty pounds, and is distinguished by its sharp, fox-like muzzle and large bushy tail, which is rarely raised to the level. in color it is much like the ordinary gray wolf but usually more tinged with yellow. it is found in all the interior country from wisconsin to oregon and from mexico to great slave lake. there are several different varieties. it never attacks man. otter (_lutra canadensis_) the otter is a large water weasel with close, dense, shiny fur and webbed feet. it is known by its color--dark brown above shaded into dark gray below and white on the cheeks without any markings--and by its size. it is about forty inches long and weighs about twenty pounds. it is found throughout north america within the limit of trees. its fur is very valuable. it feeds on fish. [illustration: otter] [illustration: weasel] weasel (_putorius noveboracensis_) the common weasel of new england is about the size of a big rat; that is, it is sixteen inches long and all brown with the exception of white chin, throat, breast, and paws, and black tip to the tail. in winter it turns white except the tail tip; that does not change. the whole continent is inhabited by weasels of one kind or another. to the north there is a smaller kind with shorter tail; on the prairies a large kind with a very long tail; but all are of the same general style and habits. a very small one, { } the least weasel, is only six inches long. it is found chiefly in canada. mink (_putorius vison_) the mink is simply a water weasel. it is known by its size, larger than that of a common weasel, as it is twenty-four inches long of which the tail is seven inches; also by its deep brown color all over except the throat and chin which are pure white. its fur is brown, harder and glossier than that of the marten, and worth about a quarter as much. it does not turn white in the winter. one form or another of mink is found over all the unarid parts of north america from the north limit of trees to the gulf of mexico. [illustration: mink] [illustration: skunk] [illustration: badger] skunk (_mephitis mephitica_) the skunk is known at once by its black coat with white stripes, its immense bushy tail tipped with white, and its size, nearly that of a cat. it weighs three to seven pounds. it ranges from virginia to hudson bay. in the northwest is a larger kind weighing twice as much and with black tip to tail. various kinds range over the continent south of latitude degrees. it is harmless and beautiful. the smell gun for which it is famous is a liquid musk; this is never used except in the extreme of self-defence. badger (_taxidea taxus_) the common badger is known by its general whitish-gray color, the black and white markings on the head, the black paws, and the strong claws for digging. it weighs from twelve to twenty-two pounds. that is, it is about the size of a 'coon. { } it is found in all the prairie and plains country from the saskatchewan valley to mexico and from wisconsin to the pacific. raccoon (_procyon lotor_) the 'coon looks like a small gray bear with a bushy ringed tail and a large black patch on each eye. its paws look like hands, and it has the full number of five fingers or toes on each extremity. it is found in all wooded regions from manitoba south to mexico and from atlantic to pacific, except the desert and rocky mountain region. [illustration: racoon] [illustration: opossum] [illustration: gray squirrel] opossum (_didelphis marsupialis_) the opossum is famous for carrying its young in a pouch in front of the body. it may be known by its dirty-white woolly fur, its long, naked, prehensile tail, its hand-like paws, its white face and sharp muzzle, and the naked pink and blue ears. in size it resembles a cat. the 'possum is found from connecticut to florida and westerly to california. gray-squirrel (_sciurus carolinensis_) america is particularly rich in squirrels. not counting ground-squirrels or chipmunks, we have over seventy-five different forms on this continent. the widest spread is probably the red-squirrel; but the best known in the united states is the common gray-squirrel. its gray coat white breast, and immense { } bushy tail are familiar to all eastern children. it is found in most of the hardwood timber east of the mississippi and south of the ottawa river and the state of maine. most of the nut trees in the woods of this region were planted by the gray-squirrel. black bear (_ursus americanus_) this is the common bear of america. it is known at once by its jet black color and brown nose. its claws are short, rarely over an inch long, and curved, serving better as climbers than do the long claws of the grizzly. two hundred pounds would be a good sized female, three hundred a male; but florida black bears have been taken weighing five hundred pounds. sometimes freaks with cinnamon-brown coats are found. this bear is found throughout north america wherever there is timber. notes { } notes { } notes { } chapter iii campcraft (in treating of camping there has been an intentional omission of the long-term camp. this is treated extensively in the books of reference given at the close of this chapter.) hiking and over-night camp _by h. w. gibson, boys' work secretary, young men's christian association massachusetts and rhode island_ several things should be remembered when going on a hike: first, avoid long distances. a foot-weary, muscle-tired and temper-tried, hungry group of boys is surely not desirable. there are a lot of false notions about courage and bravery and grit that read well in print, but fail miserably in practice, and long hikes for boys is one of the most glaring of these notions. second, have a leader who will set a good easy pace, say two or three miles an hour, prevent the boys from excessive water drinking, and assign the duties of pitching camp, etc. third, observe these two rules given by an old woodsman: ( ) never walk over anything you can walk around; ( ) never step on anything that you can step over. every time you step on anything you lift the weight of your body. why lift extra weight when tramping? fourth, carry with you only the things absolutely needed, rolled in blankets, poncho army style. before starting on a hike, study carefully the road maps, and take them with you on the walk for frequent reference. the best maps are those of the united states geological survey, costing five cents each. the map is published in atlas sheets, each sheet representing a small, quadrangular district. send to the superintendent of documents at washington, d. c., for a list. for tramping the boy needs the right kind of a shoe, or the trip will be a miserable failure. a light-soled or a light-built shoe is not suited for mountain work or even for an ordinary hike. the feet will blister and become "road weary." the shoe must be neither too big, too small, nor too heavy, and be amply broad to give the toes plenty of room. the shoe should be water-tight. a medium weight, high-topped lace shoe is about right. bathing the feet at the springs and streams along the road will be refreshing, if not indulged in too frequently. { } see chapter on "health and endurance" for care of the feet and proper way of walking. it is well to carry a spare shirt hanging down the back with the sleeves tied around the neck. change when the shirt you are wearing becomes too wet with perspiration. the most practical and inexpensive pack is the one made for the boy scouts of america. (price cents.) it is about x inches square, and inches thick, made of water-proof canvas with shoulder-straps, and will easily hold everything needed for a tramping trip. a few simple remedies for bruises, cuts, etc., should be taken along by the leader. you may not need them and some may poke fun at them, but, as the old lady said, "you can't always sometimes tell." the amount and kind of provisions must be determined by the locality and habitation. the lean-to [illustration: fig. . frame of lean-to] reach the place where you are going to spend the night in plenty of time to build your lean-to, and make your bed for { } the night. select your camping spot with reference to water, wood, drainage, and material for your lean-to. choose a dry, level place, the ground just sloping enough to insure the water running away from your lean-to in case of rain. in building your lean-to look for a couple of good trees standing from eight to ten feet apart with branches from six to eight feet above the ground. by studying the illustration (no. ) you will be able to build a very serviceable shack, affording protection from the dews and rain. while two or more boys are building the shack, another should be gathering firewood and preparing the meal, while another should be cutting and bringing in as many soft, thick tips of trees as possible, for the roof of the shack and the beds. how to thatch the lean-to is shown in illustration no. . if the camp site is to be used for several days, two lean-tos may be built facing each other, about six feet apart. this will make a very comfortable camp, as a small fire can be built between the two thus giving warmth and light. [illustration: fig. . method of thatching] the bed on the floor of your lean-to lay a thick layer of the fans or branches of a balsam or hemlock, with the convex side up, and the butts of the stems toward the foot of the bed. now thatch this over with more fans by thrusting the butt ends through the first layer at a slight angle toward the head of the bed, so that the soft tips will curve toward the foot of the bed, and be sure to make the head of your bed away from the opening of the lean-to and the foot toward the opening. over this bed spread your rubber blankets or ponchos with rubber side down, your sleeping blanket on top, and you will be surprised how soft, springy, and fragrant a bed you have, upon which to rest your "weary frame" and sing with the poet: "then the pine boughs croon me a lullaby, and trickle the white moonbeams to my face on the balsam where i lie while the owl hoots at my dreams." --_j. george frederick_. { } hot-stone wrinkle if the night bids fair to be cold, place a number of stones about six or eight inches in diameter near the fire, so that they will get hot. these can then be placed at the feet, back, etc., as needed, and will be found good "bed warmers." when a stone loses its heat, it is replaced near the fire and a hot one taken. if too hot, wrap the stone in a shirt or sweater or wait for it to cool off. boys desire adventure. this desire may be gratified by the establishment of night watchers in relays of two boys each, every two hours. their imaginations will be stirred by the resistless attraction of the camp-fire and the sound of the creatures that creep at night. observation practice many boys have excellent eyes, but see not, and good ears but hear not, all because they have not been trained to observe or to hear quickly. a good method of teaching observation while on a hike or tramp is to have each boy jot down in a small note-book or diary of the trip, the different kinds of trees, birds, animals, tracks, nature of roads, fences, peculiar rock formation, smells of plants, etc., and thus be able to tell what he saw or heard to the boys upon his return to the permanent camp or to his home. camera snap shots one of the party should take a small folding camera. photographs of the trip are always of great pleasure and memory revivers. a practical and convenient method of carrying small folding cameras represents an ordinary belt to which a strap with a buckle has been attached, which is run through the loops at the back of the camera case. the camera may be pushed around the belt to the point where it will be least in the way. camp lamp a very convenient lamp to use on a hike is the baldwin camp lamp made by john simmons co., franklin street, new york city. it weighs only five ounces when full; is charged with carbide and is but - / inches high. it projects a strong light feet through the woods. a stiff wind will not blow it out. it can be worn comfortably in your hat or belt. handy articles a boy of ingenuity can make a number of convenient things. a good drinking cup may be made from a piece of bark cut { } in parallelogram shape twisted into pyramid form and fastened with a split stick. a flat piece of bark may serve as a plate. a pot lifter may be made from a green stick about inches long, allowing a few inches of a stout branch to remain. by reversing the same kind of stick and driving a small nail near the other end or cutting a notch in it, it may be used to suspend a kettle over a fire. a novel candlestick is made by opening the blade of a knife and jabbing it into a tree; upon the other upturned blade put a candle. a green stick having a split which will hold a piece of bread or meat makes an excellent broiler. don't pierce the bread or meat. driving a good-sized stake into the ground at an angle of degrees and cutting a notch on which may be suspended a kettle over a fire will provide a way of boiling water quickly. building the fireplace take two or three stones and build a fireplace, a stick first shaved and then whittled for shavings, a lighted match, a little blaze, some bark and dry twigs added, a few small sticks, place the griddle over the fire and you are ready to cook the most appetizing griddle-cakes. after the cakes are cooked, fry slices of bacon upon the griddle; in the surplus fat fry slices of bread, then some thinly sliced raw potatoes done to a delicious brown. here is a breakfast capable of making the mouth of a camper water. another way: place the green logs side by side, closer together at one end than the other. build the fire between. on the logs over the fire you can rest a frying-pan, kettle, etc. to start the fire have some light, dry wood split up fine. when sticks begin to blaze, add a few more of larger size and continue until you have a good fire. to prevent the re-kindling of the fire after it is apparently out, pour water over it and soak the earth for the space of two or three feet around it. this is very important, for many forest fires have started through failure to observe this caution. cooking receipts cooking for hikes and over-night camps the following tested receipts are given for those who go on hikes and over-night camps: griddle-cakes beat one egg, tablespoonful of sugar, one cup diluted condensed milk or new milk. mix enough self-raising flour to { } make a thick cream batter. grease the griddle with rind or slices of bacon for each batch of cakes. be sure to have the griddle hot. bacon slice bacon quite thin; remove the rind, which makes slices curl up. fry on griddle or put on a sharp end of a stick and hold over the hot coals, or better yet remove the griddle, and put on a clean, flat rock in its place. when hot lay the slices of bacon on the rock and broil. keep turning so as to brown on both sides. canned salmon on toast dip slices of stale bread into smoking hot lard. they will brown at once. drain them. heat a pint of salmon, picked into flakes, season with salt and pepper and turn in a tablespoonful of melted butter. heat in a pan. stir in one egg, beaten light, with three tablespoonfuls evaporated milk not thinned. pour the mixture on the fried bread. roast potatoes wash and dry potatoes thoroughly, bury them deep in a good bed of coals, cover them with hot coals until well done. it will take about forty minutes for them to bake. then pass a sharpened hard-wood sliver through them from end to end, and let the steam escape and use immediately as a roast potato soon becomes soggy and bitter. baked fresh fish clean well. small fish should be fried whole with the back bone severed to prevent curling up; large fish should be cut into pieces, and ribs loosened from back bone so as to lie flat in pan. rub the pieces in corn meal or powdered crumbs, thinly and evenly (that browns them), fry in plenty of hot fat to a golden brown, sprinkling lightly with salt just as the color turns. if fish has not been wiped dry it will absorb too much grease. if the frying fat is not very hot when fish are put in, they will be soggy with it. frogs' legs first, after skinning, soak them an hour in cold water to which vinegar has been added, or put them for two minutes into scalding water that has vinegar in it. drain, wipe dry, and cook. { } to fry: roll in flour, season with salt and pepper, and fry not too rapidly, preferably in butter or oil. water-cress is a good relish with them. to griddle: prepare three tablespoonsful melted butter, one half tablespoonful salt, and a pinch or two of pepper, into which dip the frogs' legs, then roll in fresh bread crumbs and broil for three minutes on each side. eggs boiled: have water to boiling point. place eggs in carefully. boil steadily for three minutes if you wish them soft. if wanted hard boiled, put them in cold water, bring to a boil, and keep it up for twenty minutes. the yolk will then be mealy and wholesome. fried: melt some butter or fat in frying-pan; when it hisses drop in eggs carefully. fry them three minutes. scrambled: first stir the eggs up and after putting some butter in the frying-pan, stir the eggs in it after adding a little condensed milk. poached: first put in the frying-pan sufficient diluted condensed milk which has been thinned with enough water to float the eggs in, and let them simmer three or four minutes. serve the eggs on slices of buttered toast, pouring on enough of the milk to moisten the toast. coffee for every cup of water allow a tablespoonful of ground coffee, then add one extra. have water come to boiling point first, add coffee, hold it just below boiling point for five minutes, and settle with one fourth of a cup of cold water. serve. some prefer to put the coffee in a small muslin bag loosely tied. cocoa allow a teaspoonful of cocoa for every cup of boiling water. mix the powdered cocoa with water or boiled milk, with sugar to taste. boil two or three minutes. these receipts have been tried out. biscuit and bread making have been purposely omitted. take bread and crackers with you from camp. "amateur" biscuits are not conducive to good digestion or happiness. pack butter in small jar: cocoa, sugar, and coffee in small cans or heavy paper; also salt and pepper. wrap bread in a moist cloth to prevent drying up; { } bacon and dried or chipped beef in wax paper. pickles can be purchased put up in small bottles. use the empty bottle as candle-stick. sample menu for an over-night camp and a day hike or tramp breakfast griddle-cakes, fried bacon and potatoes, bread, coffee, preserves dinner creamed salmon on toast, baked potatoes, bread, pickles, fruit supper fried eggs, creamed or chipped beef, cheese, bread, cocoa ration list for six boys, three meals pounds bacon (sliced thin) pound butter dozen eggs / pound cocoa / pound coffee pound sugar cans salmon potatoes cans condensed milk small package of self-raising flour salt and pepper _utensils_ small griddle small stew pan small coffee-pot large spoon plate and cup matches and candle. dish washing first fill the frying-pan with water, place over the fire, and let it boil. pour out water and you will find the pan has practically cleaned itself. clean the griddle with sand and water. greasy knives and forks may be cleaned by jabbing { } them into the ground. after all grease is gotten rid of, wash in hot water and dry with cloth. don't use the cloth first and get it greasy. leadership the most important thing about a camping party is that it should always have the best of leadership. no group of boys should go camping by themselves. the first thing a patrol of scouts should do when it has determined to camp is to insist upon the scout master accompanying the members of the patrol. the reason for this is that there is less likely to be accidents of the kind that will break up your camp and drive you home to the town or city. when the scout master is one of the party, all of the boys can go in swimming when the proper time comes for such exercise, and the scout master can stay upon the bank or sit in the boat for the purpose of preventing accidents by drowning. there are also a hundred and one things which will occur in camp when the need of a man's help will show itself. a scout ought to insist on his scout master going to camp. the scout master and patrol leader should be present, in order to settle the many questions which must of necessity arise, so that there may be no need of differences or quarrels over disputed points, which would be sure to spoil the outing. scout camp program in a scout camp there will be a regular daily program, something similar to the following: : a.m. turn out, bathe, etc. : a.m. breakfast : a.m. air bedding in sun, if possible, and clean camp ground : a.m. scouting games and practice : a.m. swimming : p.m. dinner : p.m. talk by leader : p.m. water games, etc. : p.m. supper : p.m. evening council around camp fire. _order of business_ . opening council . roll-call . record of last council . reports of scouts . left over business . complaints . honors . new scouts . new business . challenges . social doings, songs, dances, stories . closing council (devotional services when desired) : lights out { } water supply dr. charles e. a. winslow, the noted biologist, is authority for the following statement: "the source of danger in water is always human or animal pollution. occasionally we find water which is bad to drink on account of passage through the ground or on account of passage through lead pipes, but the danger is never from ordinary decomposing vegetable matter. if you have to choose between a bright clear stream which may be polluted at some point above and a pond full of dead leaves and peaty matter, but which you can inspect all around and find free from contamination, choose the pond. even in the woods it is not easy to find surface waters that are surely protected and streams particularly are dangerous sources of water supply. we have not got rid of the idea that running water purifies itself. it is standing water which purifies itself, if anything does, for in stagnation there is much more chance for the disease germs to die out. better than either a pond or stream, unless you can carry out a rather careful exploration of their surroundings, is ground water from a well or spring; though that again is not necessarily safe. if the well is in good, sandy soil, with no cracks or fissures, even water that has been polluted may be well purified and safe to drink. in a clayey or rocky region, on the other hand, contaminating material may travel for a considerable distance under the ground. even if the well is protected below, a very important point to look after is the pollution from the surface. i believe more cases of typhoid fever from wells are due to surface pollution than to the character of the water itself. there is danger which can, of course, be done away with by protection of the well from surface drainage, by seeing that the surface wash is not allowed to drain toward it, and that it is protected by a tight covering from the entrance of its own waste water. if good water cannot be secured in any of these ways, it must in some way be purified. ... boiling will surely destroy all disease germs." the indians had a way of purifying water from a pond or swamp by digging a hole about one foot across and down about six inches below the water level, a few feet from the pond. after it was filled with water, they bailed it out quickly, repeating the bailing process about three times. after the third bailing the hole would fill with filtered water. try it. sanitation a most important matter when in camp, and away from modern conveniences is that of sanitation. this includes not { } only care as to personal cleanliness, but also as to the water supply and the proper disposal of all refuse through burial or burning. carelessness in these matters has been the cause of serious illness to entire camps and brought about many deaths. in many instances the loss of life in the armies has been greater through disease in the camp than on the battlefields. typhoid fever is one of the greatest dangers in camping and is caused by unclean habits, polluted water, and contaminated milk, and food. the armies of the world have given this disease the most careful study with the result that flies have been found to be its greatest spreaders. not only should all sources of water supply be carefully examined, an analysis obtained if possible before use, but great care should also be taken when in the vicinity of such a supply, not to pollute it in any way. in districts where typhoid is at all prevalent it is advisable for each scout to be immunized before going to camp. a scout's honor will not permit him to disobey in the slightest particular the sanitary rules of his camp. he will do his part well. he will do everything in his power to make his camp clean, sanitary, and healthful from every standpoint. general hints two flannel shirts are better than two overcoats. don't wring out flannels or woolens. wash in cold water, very soapy, hang them up dripping wet, and they will not shrink. if you keep your head from getting hot and your feet dry there will be little danger of sickness. if your head gets too hot put green leaves inside of your hat. if your throat is parched, and you cannot get water, put a pebble in your mouth. this will start the saliva and quench the thirst. water hints if you work your hands like paddles and kick your feet, you can stay above water for some time even with your clothes on. it requires a little courage and enough strength not to lose your head. [illustration: ready for the hike.] { } many boy swimmers make the mistake of going into the water too soon after eating. the stomach and digestive organs are busy preparing the food for the blood and body. suddenly they are called upon to care for the work of the swimmer. the change is too quick for the organs, the process of digestion stops, congestion is apt to follow, and then paralyzing cramps. indian bathing precaution the indians have a method of protecting themselves from cramps. coming to a bathing pool, an indian swimmer, after stripping off, and before entering the water, vigorously rubs the pit of the stomach with the dry palm of his hands. this rubbing probably takes a minute, then he dashes cold water all over his stomach and continues the rubbing for another minute, and after that he is ready for his plunge. if the water in which you are going to swim is cold, try this method before plunging into the water. good bathing rule the rule in most camps regarding entering the water is as follows: "no one of the party shall enter the water for swimming or bathing except at the time and place designated, and in the presence of a leader." laxity in the observance of this rule will result disastrously. clouds every cloud is a weather sign: low clouds, swiftly moving, indicate coolness and rain; hard-edged clouds, wind; rolled or jagged clouds, strong wind; "mackerel" sky, twelve hours day. look out for rain when a slack rope tightens. smoke beats downward. sun is red in the morning. there is a pale yellow or greenish sunset. rains rain with east wind is lengthy. a sudden shower is soon over. a slow rain lasts long. rain before seven, clear before eleven. a circle round the moon means "storm." "the evening red, the morning gray sets the traveler on his way; the evening gray, the morning red brings down showers upon his head." { } "when the grass is dry at night look for rain before the light." "when the grass is dry at morning light look for rain before the night." clear "when the dew is on the grass rain will never come to pass." a heavy morning fog generally indicates a clear day. east wind brings rain. west wind brings clear, bright, and cool weather. north wind brings cold. south wind brings heat. direction of the wind the way to find which way the wind is blowing is to throw up little bits of dry grass, or to hold up a handful of light dust and let it fall, or to suck your thumb, wet it all around and let the wind blow over it, and the cold side of it will then tell you which way the wind is blowing. weather flags the united states weather bureau publishes a "classification of clouds" in colors, which may be had for the asking. if you are near one of the weather signal stations, daily bulletins will be sent to camp upon request; also the weather map. a set of flag signals run up each day will create interest. the flags are easily made or may be purchased. keep a daily record of temperature. a boy in charge of the "weather bureau" will find it to be full of interest as well as offering an opportunity to render the camp a real service. he will make a weather vane, post a daily bulletin, keep a record of temperature, measure velocity of wind, and rainfall. how to get your bearings if you have lost your bearings, and it is a cloudy day, put the point of your knife blade on your thumb nail, and turn the blade around until the full shadow of the blade is on the nail. this will tell you where the sun is, and decide in which direction the camp is. face the sun in the morning, spread out your arms straight { } from body. before you is the east; behind you is the west; to your right is the south; the left hand is the north. grass turns with the sun. remember this when finding your way at night. building a camp fire there are ways and ways of building a camp fire. an old indian saying runs, "white man heap fool, make um big fire--can't git near! injun make um little fire--git close! ugh! good!" make it a service privilege for a tent of boys to gather wood and build the fire. this should be done during the afternoon. two things are essential in the building of a fire--kindling and air. a fire must be built systematically. first, get dry, small, dead branches, twigs, fir branches, and other inflammable material. place these on the ground. be sure that air can draw under it and upward through it. next place some heavier sticks and so on until you have built the camp fire the required size. an interesting account of "how to build a fire by rubbing sticks," by ernest thompson seton, will be found in chapter . in many camps it is considered an honor to light the fire. never build a large camp fire too near the tent or inflammable pine trees. better build it in the open. be sure and use every precaution to prevent the spreading of fire. this may be done by building a circle of stones around the fire, or by digging up the earth, or by wetting a space around the fire. always have the buckets of water near at hand. to prevent the re-kindling of the fire after it is apparently out, pour water over it and soak the earth for a space of two or three feet around it. this is very important, for many forest fires have started through failure to observe this caution. things to remember: first, it is criminal to leave a burning fire; second, always put out the fire with water or earth. "a fire is never out," says chief forester h. s. graves, "until the last spark is extinguished. often a log or snag will smolder unnoticed after the flames have apparently been conquered only to break out afresh with a rising wind." be sure to get a copy of the laws of your state regarding forest fires, and if a permit is necessary to build a fire, secure it, before building the fire. kephart, in his book on "camping and woodcraft" (p. ), says: "when there is nothing dry to strike it on, jerk the head { } of the match forward through the teeth. or, face the wind. cup your hands back toward the wind, remove the right hand just long enough to strike the match on something very close by, then instantly resume former position. flame of match will run up stick instead of blowing away from it." ---------------------------------------------------------------- { } forest fires! the great annual destruction of forests by fire is an injury to all persons and industries. the welfare of every community is dependent upon a cheap and plentiful supply of timber, and a forest cover is the most effective means of preventing floods and maintaining a regular flow of streams used for irrigation and other useful purposes. to prevent forest fires congress passed the law approved may , , which-- forbids setting fire to the woods, and forbids leaving any fires unextinguished. this law, for offenses against which officers of the forest service can arrest without warrant, provides as maximum punishment-- a fine of $ , or imprisonment for two years, or both, if a fire is set maliciously, and a fine of $ , or imprisonment for one years, or both, if a fire is set carelessly, it also provides that the money from such fines shall be paid to the school fund of the county in which the offense is committed. the exercise of care with small fires is the best preventive of large ones. therefore all persons are requested-- . not to drop matches or burning tobacco where there is inflammable material. . not to build larger camp fires than are necessary. . not to build fires in leaves, rotten wood, or other places where they are likely to spread. . in windy weather and in dangerous places, to dig holes or clear the ground to confine camp fires. . to extinguish all fires completely before leaving them, even for a short absence. . not to build fires against large or hollow logs, where it is difficult to extinguish them. . not to build fires to clear land without informing the nearest officer of the forest service, so that he may assist in controlling them. this notice is posted for your benefit and the good of every resident of the region. you are requested to cooperate in preventing the removal or defacement, which acts are punishable by law. james wilson, secretary of agriculture ---------------------------------------------------------------- _the above is a copy of one of a series of notices posted in forests by the u. s. department of agriculture, directing attention to u. s. laws on this important subject_. { continued} [illustration: around the camp fire.] the camp fire "i cannot conceive of a camp that does not have a big fire. our city houses do not have it, not even a fireplace. the fireplace is one of the greatest schools the imagination has ever had or can ever have. it is moral, and it always has a tremendous stimulus to the imagination, and that is why stories and fire go together. you cannot tell a good story unless you tell it before a fire. you cannot have a complete fire unless you have a good story-teller along! "there is an impalpable, invisible, softly stepping delight in the camp fire which escapes analysis. enumerate all its charms and still there is something missing in your catalogue. "anyone who has witnessed a real camp fire and participated in its fun as well as seriousness will never forget it. the huge fire shooting up its tongue of flame into the darkness of the night, the perfect shower of golden rain, the company of happy { } boys, and the great dark background of piny woods, the weird light over all, the singing, the yells, the stories, the fun, and then the serious word at the close, is a happy experience long to be remembered." camp-fire stunts the camp fire is a golden opportunity for the telling of stories--good stories told well. indian legends, war stories, ghost stories, detective stories, stories of heroism, the history of life, a talk about the stars. don't draw out the telling of a story. make the story life-like. college songs always appeal to boys. let some leader start up a song in a natural way, and soon you will have a chorus of unexpected melody and harmony. as the fire dies down, let the songs be of a more quiet type like "my old kentucky home," and ballads of similar nature. when the embers are glowing is the time for toasting marshmallows. get a long stick sharpened to a point, fasten a marshmallow on the end, hold it over the embers, not in the blaze, until the marsh-mallow expands. oh, the deliciousness of it! ever tasted one? before roasting corn on the cob, tie the end of the husk firmly with string or cord; soak in water for about an hour; then put into the hot embers. the water prevents the corn from burning and the firmly tied husks enable the corn to be steamed and the real corn flavor is thus retained. in about twenty minutes the corn may be taken from the fire and eaten. have a bowl of melted butter and salt at hand. also a pastry brush to spread the melted butter upon the corn. try it. story telling for an example of a good story to be told around the camp fire this excellent tale by prof. f. m. burr is printed by permission: how men found the great spirit in the olden time, when the woods covered all the earth except the deserts and the river bottoms, and men lived on the fruits and berries they found and the wild animals which they could shoot or snare, when they dressed in skins and lived in caves, there was little time for thought. but as men grew stronger and more cunning and learned how to live together, they had more time to think and more mind to think with. men had learned many things. they had learned that cold weather followed hot; and spring, winter; and that the sun got up in the morning and went to bed at night. they said that the great water was kindly when the sun shone, but when the sun hid its face and the wind blew upon it, it grew black and angry and upset their canoes. they found that knocking flints together or rubbing dry sticks would light the dry moss and that the { } flames which would bring back summer in the midst of winter and day in the midst of night were hungry and must be fed, and when they escaped devoured the woods and only the water could stop them. these and many other things men learned, but no one knew why it all was or how it came to be. man began to wonder, and that was the beginning of the path which led to the great spirit. in the ages when men began to wonder there was born a boy whose name was wo, which meant in the language of his time, "whence." as he lay in his mother's arms she loved him and wondered: "his body is of my body, but from whence comes the life--the spirit which is like mine and yet not like it?" and his father seeing the wonder in the mother's eyes, said, "whence came he from?" and there was no one to answer, and so they called him wo to remind them that they knew not from whence he came. as wo grew up, he was stronger and swifter of foot than any of his tribe. he became a mighty hunter. he knew the ways of all the wild things and could read the signs of the seasons. as he grew older they made him a chief and listened while he spoke at the council board, but wo was not satisfied. his name was a question and questioning filled his mind. "whence did he come? whither was he going? why did the sun rise and set? why did life burst into leaf and flower with the coming of spring? why did the child become a man and the man grow old and die?" the mystery grew upon him as he pondered. in the morning he stood on a mountain top and stretching out his hands cried, "whence?" at night he cried to the moon "whither?" he listened to the soughing of the trees and the song of the brook and tried to learn their language. he peered eagerly into the eyes of little children and tried to read the mystery of life. he listened at the still lips of the dead, waiting for them to tell him whither they had gone. he went out among his fellows silent and absorbed, always looking for the unseen and listening for the unspoken. he sat so long silent at the council board that the elders questioned him. to their questioning he replied like one awakening from a dream: "our fathers since the beginning have trailed the beasts of the woods. there is none so cunning as the fox, but we can trail him to his lair. though we are weaker than the great bear and buffalo, yet by our wisdom we overcome them. the deer is more swift of foot, but by craft we overtake him. we cannot fly like a bird, but we snare the winged one with a hair. we have made ourselves many cunning inventions by which the beasts, the trees, the wind, the water and the fire become our servants. "then we speak great swelling words: 'how great and wise we are! there is none like us in the air, in the wood, or in the water!' "but the words are false. our pride is like that of a partridge drumming on his log in the wood before the fox leaps upon him. our sight is like that of the mole burrowing under the ground. our wisdom is like a drop of dew upon the grass. our ignorance is like the great water which no eye can measure. "our life is like a bird coming out of the dark, fluttering for a heart-beat in the tepee and then going forth into the dark again. no one can tell whence it comes or whither it goes. i have asked the wise men and they cannot answer. i have listened to the voice of the trees and wind and water, but i do not know their tongue; i have questioned the sun and the moon and the stars, but they are silent. "but to-day in the silence before the darkness gives place to light, i seemed to hear a still small voice within my breast, saying to me, 'wo, the { } questioner, rise up like the stag from his lair; away, alone, to the mountain of the sun. there thou shalt find that which thou seekest.' i go, but if i fail by the trail another will take it up. if i find the answer i will return." waiting for none, wo left the council of his tribe and went his way toward the mountain of the sun. for six days he made his way through the trackless woods, guided by the sun by day and the stars by night. on the seventh day he came to the great mountain--the mountain of the sun, on whose top, according to the tradition of his tribe, the sun rested each night. all day long he climbed saying to himself, "i will sleep tonight in the teepee of the sun, and he will tell me whence i come and whither i go." but as he climbed the sun seemed to climb higher and higher; and, as he neared the top, a cold cloud settled like a night bird on the mountain. chilled and faint with hunger and fatigue, wo struggled on. just at sunset he reached the top of the mountain, but it was not the mountain of the sun, for many days' journey to the west the sun was sinking in the great water. a bitter cry broke from wo's parched lips. his long trail was useless. there was no answer to his questions. the sun journeyed farther and faster than men dreamed, and of wood and waste and water there was no end. overcome with misery and weakness he fell upon a bed of moss with his back toward the sunset and the unknown. and wo slept, although it was unlike any sleep he had ever known before, and as he slept he dreamed. he was alone upon the mountain waiting for the answer. a cloud covered the mountain but all was silent. a mighty wind rent the cloud and rushed roaring through the crags, but there was no voice in the wind. thunder pealed, lightning flashed, but he whom wo sought was not there. in the hush that followed up the storm wo heard a voice, low and quiet, but in it all the sounds of earth and sky seemed to mingle--the song of the bird, the whispering of the trees, and the murmuring of the brook. "wo, i am he whom thou seekest, i am the great spirit. i am the all father. ever since i made man of the dust of the earth, and so child of the earth and brother to all living, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, thus making him my son, i have waited for a seeker who should find me. in the fullness of time thou hast come, wo the questioner, to the answerer. "thy body is of the earth and to earth returns; thy spirit is mine; it is given thee for a space to make according to thy will; then it returns to me better or worse for thy making. "thou hast found me because thy heart was pure, and thy search for me tireless. go back to thy tribe and be to them the voice of the great spirit. from henceforth i will speak to thee, and the seekers that come after thee in a thousand voices and appear in a thousand shapes. i will speak in the voices of the woods and streams and of those you love. i will appear to you in the sun by day and the stars by night. when thy people and mine are in need and wish for the will of the great spirit, then shall my spirit brood over thine and the words that thou shalt speak shall be my words." and wo awoke, facing the east and the rising sun. his body was warmed by its rays. a great gladness filled his soul. he had sought and found and prayer came to him like the song to the bird. "o great spirit, father of my spirit, the sun is thy messenger, but thou art brighter than the sun. drive thou the darkness before me. be thou the light of my spirit." as wo went down the mountain and took the journey back to the home of his people, his face shone, and the light never seemed to leave it, so that men called him "he of the shining face." { } when wo came back to his tribe, all who saw his face knew that he had found the answer, and they gathered again about the council fire to hear. as wo stood up and looked into the eager faces in the circle of the fire, he remembered that the great spirit had given him no message and for a moment he was dumb. then the words of the great spirit came to him again. "when thy people and mine shall need to know my will, my spirit shall brood over thine and the words that thou shalt speak shall be my words." looking into the eager faces of longing and questioning, his spirit moved within him and he spoke: "i went, i sought, i found the great spirit who dwells in the earth as your spirits dwell in your bodies. it is from him the spirit comes. we are his children. he cares for us more than a mother for the child on her breast, or the father for the son that is his pride. his love is like the air we breathe: it is about us; it is within us. "the sun is the sign of his brightness, the sky of his greatness and mother-love and father-love, and the love of man and woman are the signs of his love. we are but his children; we cannot enter into the council of the great chief until we have been proved, but this is his will, that we love one another as he loves us; that we bury forever the hatchet of hate, that no man shall take what is not his own and the strong shall help the weak." the chiefs did not wholly understand the words of wo, but they took a hatchet and buried it by the fire saying, "thus bury we hate between man and his brother," and they took an acorn and put it in the earth saying, "thus plant we the love of the strong for the weak." and it became the custom of the tribe that the great council in the spring should bury the hatchet and plant the acorn. every morning the tribe gathered to greet the rising sun, and with right hand raised and left upon their hearts prayed: "great spirit hear us; guide us to-day; make our wills thy will, our ways thy way." and the tribe grew stronger and greater and wiser than all the other tribes--but that is another story. tent making made easy _by h. j. holden_ (reprinted from recreation. apr. , . by permission of the editor.) the accompanying sketches show a few of the many different tents which may be made from any available piece of cloth or canvas. the material need not be cut, nor its usefulness for other purposes impaired, except that rings or tapes are attached at various points as indicated. for each tent the sketches show a front elevation, with a ground plan, or a side view; also a view of the material laid flat, with dotted lines to indicate where creases or folds will occur. models may be made from stiff paper and will prove as interesting to the kindergartner in geometry as to the old campaigner in camping. in most of the tents a ring for suspension is fastened at the centre of one side. this may be supported by a pole or hung by means { } of a rope from any convenient fastening; both methods are shown in the sketches. guy ropes are required for a few of the different models, but most of them are pegged down to the ground. after making paper models, find a stack cover, a tarpaulin, a tent fly, an awning, or buy some wide cotton cloth, say -inch. all the shapes may be repeatedly made from the same piece of material, if the rings for changes are left attached. in nos. , , , , , , , a portion of the canvas is not used and may be turned under to serve as sod-cloth, or rolled up out of the way. if your material is a large piece, more pegs and guy lines will be required than is indicated in the sketches. the suspension ring, - / inches or inches in diameter, should be well fastened, with sufficient reinforcement to prevent tearing out; -inch rings fastened with liberal lengths of tape are large enough for the pegs and guy lines. also reinforce along the lines of the strain from peg to pole. -------------------------------------------------------------------- fig. .--a square of material hung by one corner, from any convenient support, in a manner to make a comfortable shelter; it will shed rain and reflect heat. this square makes a good fly or a good ground cloth for any of the tents. [illustration: fig. . tent from a square of canvas. a x sheet is ample for a one-man shelter; x will house two.] -------------------------------------------------------------------- fig. .--a rectangle equal to two squares. a shelter roomy and warm, with part of one side open toward the fire. [illustration: fig. . rectangle tent.] -------------------------------------------------------------------- { } fig. .--here the rectangle is folded to make a "lean-to" shelter, with the roof front suspended from a rope or from a horizontal pole by means of cords. the two corners not in use are folded under, making a partial ground cloth. a square open front is presented toward the camp fire. [illustration: fig. . baker, or lean-to.] -------------------------------------------------------------------- fig. .--same in plan as no. , but has a triangular front and only one point of suspension. [illustration: fig. . same plan as no. .] -------------------------------------------------------------------- { } fig .--uses all the cloth, has a triangular ground plan, a square front opening, plenty of head room at the back and requires two or more guy lines. this shelter resembles a "toque." [illustration: fig. . the toque tent.] -------------------------------------------------------------------- fig. .--square or "miner's" tent. two corners are turned under. this tent is enclosed on all sides, with a door in front. [illustration: fig. . miner's tent.] -------------------------------------------------------------------- fig. .--conical tent or "wigwam," entirely enclosed, with door in front. two corners of the canvas are turned under. [illustration: fig. . conical tent, or wigwam/] -------------------------------------------------------------------- fig. .--has a wall on one side and is called a "canoe tent" in some catalogues. it requires two or more guy lines and is shown with a pole support. the front has a triangular opening. [illustration: fig. . so-called canoe tent. requires three guy lines, and can be supported by a rope instead of a pole.] -------------------------------------------------------------------- fig. .--a combination of no. , with no. in use as an awning or fly. this sketch shows both tent and fly suspended by means of a rope. the "awning" may be swung around to any angle. [illustration: fig. . canoe tent with fly.] { } fig. .--combination of nos. and ; they may be fastened together by a coarse seam or tied with tapes. the ground plan is an equal-sided triangle, with a door opening on one side, as shown. there is no waste cloth. [illustration: fig. . combination of nos. and .] -------------------------------------------------------------------- fig. .--no. changed to a conical shape and suspended as a canopy. the circular shape is secured by the use of small-size gas pipe or limber poles bent into a large hoop. of course guy lines may be used, but would probably be in the way. notice that a little more material for making a wall would transform the canopy into a "sibley" tent. [illustration: fig. . sibley awning.] -------------------------------------------------------------------- there are other shapes and combinations, but perhaps these sketches are enough in the line of suggestion. the diagram fig. shows a method for laying out, on your cloth, the location of all the rings to make the tents and shelters. no dimensions are given and none is required. the diagram is good for any size. most of the fastenings are found on radial lines, which are spaced to divide a semi-circle into eight equal { } angles, - / degrees each; these intersect other construction lines and locate the necessary loops and rings. figures are given at each ring which refer back to the sketch numbers. [illustration: fig. . showing how ten different tents can be made with but one piece of canvas.] suppose the material at hand is the widest unbleached cotton cloth, inches wide, yards long, or - / feet by feet. the accompanying table will give the dimensions for the various shapes from fig. to fig. . if in doubt about the location of rings on your canvas, suspend the tent by the centre ring and fasten the loops temporarily by means of safety pins, draw the tent into shape and shift the fastenings as required. the guy lines should have hooks or snaps at one end for ready attachment and removal; the other end should be provided with the usual slides for "take up." the edge of the cloth where the large ring for suspension is fastened should be bound with tape or have a double hem, for it is the edge of the door in most of the tents shown. table of dimensions, in. material size area, height remarks sq. ft. ft. - / ft. triangle - / one side open - / x ft. - / one side open x - / ft. - / one side open - / x ft. - / one side open - / ft. triangle - / one side open - / x - / ft. enclosed - / ft. diam. - / enclosed x - / ft. - / - / - / ft. wall - / x ft. - / no. , with fly ft. triangle - / enclosed - / ft. circle canopy, no sides { } waterproofing a tent dissolve half a pound of alum in two quarts of boiling water; then add two gallons of pure cold water. in this solution place the material and let it remain for a day. dissolve a quarter of a pound of sugar of lead in two quarts boiling water, then add two gallons of cold water. take the material from the alum solution, wring it lightly, place in the second solution and leave for five or six hours; then wring out again lightly and allow it to dry. [transcriber's note: sugar of lead (lead acetate) is toxic.] if you want to avoid trouble with a leaky tent, the following solution is a "sure cure;" take a gallon or two gallons of turpentine and one or two cakes of paraffin, drug store size. chip the paraffin fairly fine; dump it into the turpentine. place the turpentine in a pail and set same in a larger pail or a tub of hot water. the hot water will heat the turpentine, and the turpentine will melt the paraffin. stir thoroughly, and renew your supply of hot water if necessary. then pile your tent into a tub and pour in the turpentine and paraffin mixture. work the tent all over thoroughly with your hands, so that every fiber gets well saturated. you must work fast, however, as the paraffin begins to thicken as it cools; and work out of doors, in a breeze if possible, as the fumes of the turpentine will surely make you sick if you try it indoors. when you have the tent thoroughly saturated, hang it up to dry. it is not necessary to wring the tent out when you hang it up. just let it drip. if you use too much paraffin the tent may look a little dirty after it dries, but it will be all right after you have used it once or twice. an open outing tent _by warren h. miller, editor "field and stream."_ to make an open outing tent, get thirteen yards of oz. duck canvas, which can be bought at any department store or dry goods store for seventeen or eighteen cents a yard. this makes your total expense $ . for your tent. layout the strip of canvas on the floor and cut one end square; measure up inches along the edge and draw a line to the other corner. { } from this corner layoff ft. in. along the edge and on the opposite side, layoff ft. in. beginning at the end of your -in. measurement. now take a ruler and draw another diagonal across the canvas at the ends of these measurements and you have the first gore of your tent. cut it across, turn the gore over, lay it down on the strip so as to measure off another one exactly like it. this is the corresponding gore for the other side of the tent. to make the second pair of gores, layoff ft. in. along one side of the remaining strip of canvas beginning at the pointed end, and ft. in. on the other side. join these points with a diagonal and you have a second gore, a duplicate of which is then cut by using it as a pattern, reversing and laying it down on the strip of canvas. to make the third gore, layoff ft. in, on one edge of your strip beginning at the point, and ft. in. on the other side. draw a diagonal across and you have the third gore. [illustration: how to cut up your strip of canvas.] [illustration: forester tent pattern.] [illustration: forester tent with hood.] you have now used up all but two yards of your canvas, plus a little left-over piece of about two feet long. out of this little left-over piece make a triangle ft. in. on the side, which will form the back triangle of your tent. now pin your three gores together to make the side of your tent, just as in the illustrations, and pin the two sides together along the ridge. then sew this tent up. sew in the little back triangle and hem all around the edges. leave a hole at the peak of the little triangle through which the ridge pole must go. { } to set it up, cut three small saplings, one of which should be twelve feet long and the other two, ten feet long. tie these two together at the ends making what the sailors call a "shears." take the twelve-foot pole and run it down the ridge inside the tent, and out through the hole in the back. now raise the ridge pole with one end stuck in the ground and the front end resting on the two shear poles and tie all three of them together. at the end of each seam along the hem you must work in a little eyelet hole for a short piece of twine to tie to the tent pegs. stretch out the back triangle, pegging it down at the two corners on the ground, and then peg out each hole along the foot until the entire tent stretches out taut as in our illustrations. three feet from the peak along the front edge you must have another eyelet hole with a little piece of twine and you tie this out to the shear pole on each side which gives the tent the peculiar gambrel roof which it has, and which has the advantage of giving you lots more room inside than the straight tent would. you now have what is known as the "open" forester tent. [illustration: forester tent with hood.] if a thunder storm comes up with a driving rain it will surely rain in at the front unless you turn the tent around by moving the poles one at a time. if you don't want to do this you can make a hood for the front out of the two yards of canvas you have left. simply draw a diagonal from one corner to the other of this { } two-yard piece of duck and cut it down the diagonal, making two thin triangles which are sewed to the front edges of the open forester tent, making a hood of the shape shown in our picture. this prevents the rain beating in the opening of your tent but still lets the heat of your fire strike in and at the same time it keeps the heat in the tent as it will not flow out along the ridge pole as it does in the open type. this tent weighs six pounds and packs into a little package fourteen inches long by seven inches wide by six: inches thick, and can be carried as a shoulder strap or put in a back pack or any way you wish to take it. it will sleep three boys, or two men and a boy, very comfortably indeed. while it really does not need to be water-proofed, as it immediately shrinks tight after the first rain, you can water-proof it if you wish by making a solution of ten ounces of quick lime with four ounces of alum in ten quarts of water. stir occasionally until the lime has slackened. put the tent in another pail and pour the solution over it, letting it stand twelve hours. take out and hang it on the clothes-line to dry. it will then be entirely waterproof. to make a good night fire in front of the tent, drive two stout stakes three feet long in the ground about three feet from the mouth of the tent; pile four logs one on top of the other against these stakes or take a large flat stone and rest it against it. make two log andirons for each side of the fire and build your fire in the space between them. it will give you a fine cheerful fire and all the heat will be reflected by the back logs into the tent, making it warm and cheerful. inside you can put your browse bags stuffed with balsam browse; or pile up a mountain of dry leaves over which you can stretch your blankets. pile all the duffle way back in the peak against the little back triangle where it will surely keep dry and will form a sort of back for your pillows. you will find the forester tent lighter and warmer than the ordinary lean-to, as it reflects the heat better. after a couple of weeks in it you will come home with your lungs so full of ozone that it will be impossible to sleep in an ordinary room without feeling smothered. canoeing, rowing and sailing (prepared with the cooperation of mr. arthur a. carey, scout master, boy scout ship pioneer; mr. carleton e. sholl, captain lakanoo boat club crew; mr. frederick k. vreeland, camp-fire club of america. and mr. r. f. tims, vice-commodore, american canoe association.) the birch-bark canoe is the boat of the north american indians, and our modern canvas canoes are made, with some { } variations, on the indian model. with the possible exception of the venetian gondola, the motion of a canoe is more graceful than that of any other boat propelled by hand; it should be continuous and gliding, and so silent that it may be brought up in the night to an animal or enemy, indian fashion, without making any sound, and so take them by surprise. [illustration: canoeing stroke (a)] campcraft many accidents happen in canoes--not because they are unsafe when properly handled, but because they are unsafe when improperly handled--and many people do not take the trouble even to find out the proper way of managing a canoe. many canoes have seats almost on a level with the gunwale, whereas, properly speaking, the only place to sit in a canoe is on the bottom; for a seat raises the body too high above the centre of gravity and makes the canoe unsteady and likely to upset. it is, however, difficult to paddle while sitting in the bottom of a canoe, and the best position for paddling is that of kneeling and at the same time resting back against one of the thwarts. the size of the single-blade paddle should be in proportion to the size of the boy who uses it--long enough to reach from the ground to the tip of his nose. the bow paddle may be a little shorter. the canoeman should learn to paddle equally well on either side of a canoe. when paddling on the { } left side the top of the paddle should be held by the right hand, and the left hand should be placed a few inches above the beginning of the blade. the old indian stroke, which is the most approved modern method for all-round canoeing, whether racing or cruising, is made with the arms almost straight--but not stiff--the arm at the top of the paddle bending only slightly at the elbow. this stroke is really a swing from the shoulder, in which there is little or no push or pull with the arm. when paddling on the left side of the canoe the right shoulder swings forward and the whole force of the body is used to push the blade of the paddle through the water, the left hand acting as a fulcrum. while the right shoulder is swung forward, the right hand is at the same time twisted at the wrist so that the thumb goes down; this motion of the wrist has the effect of turning the paddle around in the left hand--the left wrist being allowed to bend freely--so that, at the end of the stroke, the blade slides out of the water almost horizontally. if you should twist the paddle in the opposite direction it would force the head of the canoe around so that it would travel in a circle. at the recovery of the stroke the right shoulder swings back and the paddle is brought forward in a horizontal position, with the blade almost parallel to the water. it is swung forward until the paddle is at right angles across the canoe, then the blade is dipped edgewise with a slicing motion and a new stroke begins. in paddling on the right side of the canoe the position of the two hands and the motion of the two shoulders are reversed. [illustration: canoeing stroke (b)] something should also be said about double paddles--that is, paddles with two blades--one at each end--as their use is becoming more general every year. with the double paddle a novice can handle a canoe, head on to a stiff wind, a feat which { } requires skill and experience with a single blade. the doubles give greater safety and more speed and they develop chest, arm and shoulder muscles not brought into play with a single blade. the double paddle is not to be recommended to the exclusion of the single blade, but there are many times when there is an advantage in its use. [illustration: canoeing stroke (c)] in getting in or out of a canoe it is especially necessary to step in the very centre of the boat; and be careful never to lean on any object--such as the edge of a wharf--outside of the boat, for this disturbs your balance and may capsize the canoe. especially in getting out, put down your paddle first, and then, grasping the gunwale firmly in each hand, rise by putting your weight equally on both sides of the canoe. if your canoe should drift away sideways from the landing-place, when you are trying to land, place the blade of your paddle flat upon the water in the direction of the wharf and gently draw the canoe up to the landing-place with a slight sculling motion. when it is necessary to cross the waves in rough water, always try to cross them "quartering," i. e. at an oblique angle, but not at right angles. crossing big waves at right angles { } is difficult and apt to strain a canoe, and getting lengthwise between the waves is dangerous. always have more weight aft than in the bow; but, when there is only one person in the canoe, it may be convenient to place a weight forward as a balance; but it should always be lighter than the weight aft. a skillful canoeman will paddle a light canoe even in a strong wind by kneeling at a point about one third of the length from the stern. for the purpose of sailing in a canoe the lateen rig is the safest, most easily handled, and the best all-round sailing outfit. for a seventeen-foot canoe a sail having forty square feet of surface is to be recommended, and, in all except very high winds, this can be handled by one man. [illustration: canoe with sail.] the lateen sail is made in the form of an equilateral triangle, and two sides are fastened to spars which are connected at one end by a hinge or jaw. the mast--which should be set well forward--should be so long that, when the sail is spread and the slanting upper spar is swung from the top of the mast, the lower spar will swing level about six to eight inches above the gunwale and hang clear above all parts of the boat in going about. the sail is hoisted by a halyard attached at, or a little above, the centre of the upper spar, then drawn through a block attached to the brace which holds the mast in position, { } and thus to the cleats--within easy reach of the sailor. the sheet line is fastened to the lower spar, about two feet from the outer end; and, when not held in the hand, may be fastened to another cleat. both halyard and sheet should at all times be kept clear, so as to run easily, and with knots about the cleats that can be instantly slipped. the leeboard is a necessary attachment to the sailing outfit. it is made with two blades--about three feet long and ten inches wide would furnish a good-sized surface in the water--one dropping on each side of the canoe and firmly supported by a bar fastened to the gunwale. the blades should be so rigged that, when striking an object in the water, they will quickly release, causing no strain on the canoe. the leeboard, like a centre board, is of course intended to keep the canoe from sliding off when trying to beat up into the wind. when running free before the wind the board should be raised. the general rules for sailing larger craft apply to the canoe. the paddle is used as a rudder and may be held by the sailor, but a better plan is to have two paddles, one over each side, made fast to the gunwale or the brace. the sailor can then grasp either one as he goes about and there is no danger of losing the paddles overboard. in sailing, the sailor sits on the bottom, on the opposite side from the sail, except in a high wind, when he sits on the gunwale where he can the better balance the sail with his weight. the combination of sail, leeboards, and the balancing weight of the sailor, will render the canoe stiff and safe, with proper care, in any wind less than a gale. a crew may consist of two or three in a seventeen foot canoe. the spars and mast of a sailing outfit should be of spruce or some other light but strong wood, while cedar or some non-splitting wood is best for the leeboards. young canoeists will enjoy making their own sailing outfits; or a complete lateen rig as made by various canoe manufacturers can be purchased either directly from them or through almost any dealer. in case of an upset the greatest mistake is to leave the boat. a capsized canoe will support at least four persons as long as they have strength to cling to it. a single man or boy, in case of upsetting beyond swimming distance to land, should stretch himself flat upon the bottom of the canoe, with arms and legs spread down over the tumblehome toward the submerged gunwales. he can thus lie in safety for hours till help arrives. when two persons are upset, they should range themselves one { } on each side of the overturned boat; and, with one hand grasping each other's wrists across the boat, use the other hand to cling to the keel or the gunwale. if the canoe should swamp, { } fill with water, and begin to sink, it should be turned over in the water. it is the air remaining under the inverted hull that gives the craft sufficient buoyancy to support weight. never overload a canoe. in one of the ordinary size--about seventeen feet in length--three persons should be the maximum number at anytime, and remember never to change seats in a canoe when out of your depth. { } [illustration: this diagram illustrates some of the angles formed by the boom and the keel line of the boat in different positions.] running free, or before the wind wind abeam port tack wind abeam starboard tack pointing into the wind port tack pointing into the wind starboard tack. { continued} row-boats there is a certain caution in the use of boats which you will always find among sailors and fishermen and all persons who are using them constantly. such a person instinctively steps into the middle of the boat when getting in, and always sits in the middle of the thwart or seat. this is a matter of instinct with seafaring people, and so is the habit of never fooling in a boat. only landlubbers will try to stand up in a small boat while in motion; and, as for the man who rocks a boat "for fun," he is like the man "who didn't know the gun was loaded." rowing row-boats are propelled either by rowing or by sculling; and rowing is either "pulling" or "backing water." the usual way of rowing is to "pull" and to do so, you sit with your back to the bow and propel the boat by pulling the handles toward your body and so pressing the blades of the oars against the water toward the stern, while pushing with your feet against a brace. in backing water you reverse the action of the oars, pushing the handles away from your body and pressing the blades of the oars against the water toward the bow. turning to turn your boat to the right, when pulling, you row only with the left oar; or, if you wish to make a sharp turn "pull" with the left oar and "back water" with the right. to turn your boat to the left the action of the oars is reversed. feathering to prevent the momentum of the boat from being checked by the wind blowing on the blades of the oars, the blades must be turned into a horizontal position as they leave the water. in "pulling" this is done by turning the hands backward at { } the wrist, and in backing water it is done by turning the hands forward at the wrist. sculling to scull is to propel a boat by a single oar at the stern. the boat must be provided with rowlock or a semicircular scoop in the stern, and the boat is propelled by working the oar at the stem, obliquely from side to side. this is a convenient way of doing when you are working among boats in the water, and have to go short distances without the necessity of speed. steering when rowing a boat without the use of a rudder, instead of constantly turning the head around to see where you are going, it is convenient to fix upon some object in the landscape on an imaginary line with the middle of the stern and the middle of the bow; you can then keep your boat approximately in the right position, without the trouble of turning your head, by keeping the object selected on a line with the middle of the stern board. coming alongside when coming alongside of a boat or wharf always approach on the leeward side or that opposite from which the wind is blowing, and come up so that the boat will be headed into the wind and waves. stop rowing at a convenient distance from the landing-place and come up with gentle headway; then take in the oar nearest the landing, and, if necessary, back water with the other oar. keeping stroke when two or more are rowing together the length and speed of the stroke are set by the man sitting nearest the stern. rough weather always try to row as nearly as possible into the waves at right angles. in this way you are likely to ship less water and to avoid capsizing. going ashore when going ashore always leave your oars lying flat on the thwarts on either side of your boat. the salute to salute a passing vessel or boat, hold the oars up at right angles with the water. { } every row-boat should be provided with a rough sponge and a tin dipper to be used in bailing out the water. always bail out the water after a rain and keep your boat clean and tidy. sailing in small boats the most convenient kind of a boat to learn to sail in is a cat-boat, which is a boat with a single fore and aft sail held in place by a boom at the bottom and a gaff at the top. to understand the principle of sailing we must realize that a sail-boat, without the use of a rudder, acts in the water and wind very much the way a weather vane acts in the air. the bow of the boat naturally turns toward the wind, thus relieving the sail of all pressure and keeping it shaking. but if by keeping the main sheet in your hand you hold the sail in a fixed position, and, at the same time, draw the tiller away from the sail, it will gradually fill with air beginning at the hoist or mast end of the sail and impel the boat in the direction in which you are steering. given a certain direction in which you want to travel, the problem is, by letting out or hauling in your main-sheet, to keep the sail as nearly as possible at right angles with the direction of the wind. we must remember, also, that, while the sail must be kept full, it should not be kept more than full; that is, its position must be such that, by the least push of the tiller toward the sail, the sail will begin to shake at the hoist. it is even desirable in a strong wind, and especially for beginners, to always let the sail, close to the mast, shake a little without losing too much pressure. when you are sailing with the wind coming over the boat from its port side you are sailing on the port tack, and when you are sailing with the wind coming across the boat on its starboard side you are sailing on the starboard tack. the port side of the boat is the left hand side as you face the bow while standing on board, and the starboard side is the right hand side. an easy way of remembering this is by recalling the sentence, "jack left port." direction of wind of course, you will see that, if you should forget which way the wind is blowing, you could not possibly know the right position for your sail; and this is one of the first requirements for a beginner. it is quite easy to become confused with regard to the direction of the wind, and therefore every boat should be provided with a small flag or fly at its mast-head and you should keep watching it at every turn of the boat until the habit { } has become instinctive. it is convenient to remember that the fly should always point as nearly as possible to the end of the gaff, except when you are sailing free or before the wind. close to wind sailing with the boat pointing as nearly as possible against the wind is called sailing close to the wind; when you have turned your bow to the right or left so that the wind strikes both boat and sail at right angles you are sailing with the wind abeam; as you let out your sheet so that the boom makes a larger angle with an imaginary line running from the mast to the middle of the stern you are sailing off the wind; and, when your sail stands at right angles to this same line, you are sailing free or before the wind. before the wind sailing free, or before the wind, is the extreme opposite of sailing close hauled or on the wind, and the wind is blowing behind your back instead of approaching the sail from the direction of the mast. if you are sailing free on the port tack, with the boom at right angles to the mast on the starboard side, and you should steer your boat sufficiently to starboard, the wind would strike the sail at its outer edge or leech and throw the sail and boom violently over to the port side of the mast. this is called jibing and is a very dangerous thing; it should be carefully guarded against whenever sailing before the wind. reefing if you find that the wind is too strong for your boat, and that you are carrying too much sail, you can let her come up into the wind and take in one or two reefs. this is done by letting out both the throat and peak halliards enough to give sufficient slack of sail, then by hauling the sail out toward the end of the boom, and afterward by rolling the sail up and tying the points under and around it, but not around the boom. always use a square or reef knot in tying your reef points. in case of a squall or a strong puff of wind, remember that you can always ease the pressure on your sail by turning the bow into the wind, and if for any reason you wish to shorten suddenly you can drop your peak by loosening the peak halliards. ready about before "going about," or turning your bow so that the wind will strike the other side of the sail at its mast end, the man { } at the helm should always give warning by singing out the words, "ready about." "going about" is just the opposite of jibbing. right of way when two boats approach each other in opposite directions, close hauled, the boat on the starboard tack has the right of way and should continue her course. the responsibility of avoiding a collision rests with the boat sailing on the port tack. but a boat running before the wind must always give way to a boat close hauled. when sailing through high waves, always try as far as possible to head into them directly at right angles. always steer as steadily as possible. if you are careful to keep the boat on her course and do not let your mind wander, only a slight motion of the tiller from side to side will be necessary. flying the flag while the "fly" or "pennant" is carried at the top of the mast, the flag is carried at the peak or upper corner of the sail at the end of the gaff. the salute consists of tipping or slightly lowering the flag and raising it again into position. { } notes { } notes { } chapter iv tracks, trailing and signaling _by ernest thompson seton, chief scout_ "i wish i could go west and join the indians so that i should have no lessons to learn," said an unhappy small boy who could discover no atom of sense or purpose in any one of the three r's. "you never made a greater mistake," said the scribe. "for the young indians have many hard lessons from their earliest day--hard lessons and hard punishments. with them the dread penalty of failure is 'go hungry till you win,' and no harder task have they than their reading lesson. not twenty-six characters are to be learned in this exercise, but one thousand; not clear straight print are they, but dim, washed-out, crooked traces; not in-doors on comfortable chairs, with a patient teacher always near, but out in the forest, often alone and in every kind of weather, they slowly decipher their letters and read sentences of the oldest writing on earth--a style so old that the hieroglyphs of egypt, the cylinders of nippur, and the drawings of the cave men are as things of to-day in comparison--the one universal script--the tracks in the dust, mud, or snow. "these are the inscriptions that every hunter must learn to read infallibly, and be they strong or faint, straight or crooked, simple or overwritten with many a puzzling, diverse phrase, he must decipher and follow them swiftly, unerringly if there is to be a successful ending to the hunt which provides his daily food. "this is the reading lesson of the young indians, and it is a style that will never become out of date. the naturalist also must acquire some measure of proficiency in the ancient art. its usefulness is unending to the student of wild life; without it he would know little of the people of the wood." there are still many wild animals it is a remarkable fact that there are always more wild animals about than any but the expert has an idea of. for { } example, there are, within twenty miles of new york city, fully fifty different kinds--not counting birds, reptiles, or fishes--one quarter of which at least are abundant. or more particularly within the limits of greater new york there are at least a dozen species of wild beasts, half of which are quite common. "then how is it that we never see any?" is the first question of the incredulous. the answer is: long ago the beasts learned the dire lesson--man is our worst enemy; shun him at any price. and the simplest way to do this is to come out only at night. man is a daytime creature; he is blind in the soft half-light that most beasts prefer. while many animals have always limited their activity to the hours of twilight and gloom, there are not a few that moved about in daytime, but have given up that portion of their working day in order to avoid the arch enemy. thus they can flourish under our noses and eat at our tables, without our knowledge or consent. they come and go at will, and the world knows nothing of them; their presence might long go unsuspected but for one thing, well known to the hunter, the trapper, and the naturalist: wherever the wild four-foot goes, it leaves behind a record of its visit, its name, the direction whence it came, the time, the thing it did or tried to do, with the time and direction of departure. these it puts down in the ancient script. each of these dotted lines, called the trail, is a wonderful, unfinished record of the creature's life during the time it made the same, and it needs only the patient work of the naturalist to decipher that record and from it learn much about the animal that made it, without that animal ever having been seen. savages are more skilful at it than civilized folk, because tracking is their serious life-long pursuit and they do not injure their eyes with books. intelligence is important here as elsewhere, yet it is a remarkable fact that the lowest race of mankind, the australian blacks, are reputed to be by far the best trackers; not only are their eyes and attention developed and disciplined, but they have retained much of the scent power that civilized man has lost, and can follow a fresh track, partly at least by smell. it is hard to over-value the powers of the clever tracker. to him the trail of each animal is not a mere series of similar footprints; it is an accurate account of the creature's life, habit, changing whims, and emotions during the portion of life whose record is in view. these are indeed autobiographical chapters, { } and differ from other autobiographies in this--they cannot tell a lie. we may get wrong information from them, but it is our fault if we do; we misread the document that cannot falsify. { } [illustration: animal tracks; deer, sheep, mink, cottontail, hawk, owl, meadow mouse.] { continued} when to learn tracking the ideal time for tracking, and almost the only time for most folk, is when the ground is white. after the first snow the student walks forth and begins at once to realize the wonders of the trail. a score of creatures of whose existence, maybe, he did not know, are now revealed about him, and the reading of their autographs becomes easy. it is when the snow is on the ground, indeed, that we take our four-foot census of the woods. how often we learn with surprise from the telltale white that a fox was around our hen house last night, a mink is living even now under the wood pile, and a deer--yes! there is no mistaking its sharp-pointed un-sheep-like footprint--has wandered into our woods from the farther wilds. never lose the chance of the first snow if you wish to become a trailer. nevertheless, remember that the first morning after a night's snow fall is not so good as the second. most creatures "lie up" during the storm; the snow hides the tracks of those that do go forth; and some actually go into a "cold sleep" for a day or two after a heavy downfall. but a calm, mild night following a storm is sure to offer abundant and ideal opportunity for beginning the study of the trail. how to learn here are some of the important facts to keep in view, when you set forth to master the rudiments: _first_.--no two animals leave the same trail; not only each kind but each individual, and each individual at each stage of its life, leaves a trail as distinctive as the creature's appearance, and it is obvious that in that they differ among themselves just as we do, because the young know their mothers, the mothers know their young, and the old ones know their mates, when scent is clearly out of the question. another simple evidence of this is the well known fact that no two human beings have the same thumb mark; all living creatures have corresponding peculiarities, and all use these parts in making the trail. _second_.--the trail was begun at the birthplace of that creature and ends only at its death place; it may be recorded in visible track or perceptible odor. it may last but a few { } hours, and may be too faint even for an expert with present equipment to follow, but evidently the trail is made, wherever the creature journeys afoot. _third_.--it varies with every important change of impulse, action, or emotion. _fourth_--when we find a trail we may rest assured that, if living, the creature that made it is at the other end. and if one can follow, it is only a question of time before coming up with that animal. and be sure of its direction before setting out; many a novice has lost much time by going backward on the trail. _fifth_.--in studying trails one must always keep probabilities in mind. sometimes one kind of track looks much like another; then the question is, "which is the likeliest in this place." if i saw a jaguar track in india, i should know it was made by a leopard. if i found a leopard in colorado, i should be sure i had found the mark of a cougar or mountain lion. a wolf track on broadway would doubtless be the doing of a very large dog, and a st. bernard's footmark in the rockies, twenty miles from anywhere, would most likely turn out to be the happen-so imprint of a gray wolf's foot. to be sure of the marks, then, one should know all the animals that belong to the neighborhood. these facts are well known to every hunter. most savages are hunters, and one of the early lessons of the indian boy is to know the tracks of the different beasts about him. these are the letters of the old, old writing. a first try let us go forth into the woods in one of the north-eastern states when there is a good tracking snow, and learn a few of these letters of the wood alphabet. two at least are sure to be seen--the track of the blarina and of the deer mouse. they are shown on the same scale in figs. and , page . in fig. is the track of the meadow mouse. this is not unlike that of the blarina, because it walks, being a ground animal, while the deer mouse more often bounds. the delicate lace traceries of the masked shrew, shown in fig. , are almost invisible unless the sun be low; they are difficult to draw, and impossible to photograph or cast satisfactorily but the sketch gives enough to recognize them by. the meadow mouse belongs to the rank grass in the lowland { } near the brook, and passing it toward the open, running, water we may see the curious track of the muskrat; its five-toed hind foot, its four-toed front foot, and its long keeled tail, are plainly on record. when he goes slowly the tail mark is nearly straight; when he goes fast it is wavy in proportion to his pace. page . the muskrat is a valiant beast; he never dies without fighting to the last, but he is in dread of another brookland creature whose trail is here--the mink. individual tracks of this animal are shown in no. , page . here he was bounding; the forefeet are together, the hindfeet track ahead, and tail mark shows, and but four toes in each track, though the creature has five on each foot. he is a dreaded enemy of poor molly cottontail, and more than once i have seen the records of his relentless pursuit. one of these fits in admirably as an illustration of our present study. a story of the trail it was in the winter of , i was standing with my brother, a business man, on goat island, niagara, when he remarked, "how is it? you and i have been in the same parts of america for twenty years, yet i never see any of the curious sides of animal life that you are continually coming across." "largely because you do not study tracks," was the reply. "look at your feet now. there is a whole history to be read." "i see some marks," he replied, "that might have been made by some animal." "that is the track of a cottontail," was the answer. "now, let us read the chapter of his life. see, he went in a general straight course as though making some well-known haunt, his easy pace, with eight or ten inches between each set of tracks, shows unalarm. but see here, joining on, is something else." "so there is. another cottontail." "not at all, this new track is smaller, the forefeet are more or less paired, showing that the creature can climb a tree; there is a suggestion of toe pads and there is a mark telling evidently of a long tail; these things combined with the size and the place identify it clearly. this is the trail of a mink. see! he has also found the rabbit track, and finding it fresh, he followed it. his bounds are lengthened now, but the rabbit's are not, showing that the latter was unconscious of the pursuit." after one hundred yards the double trail led us to a great pile of wood, and into this both went. having followed his { } game into dense cover, the trailer's first business was to make sure that it did not go out the other side. we went carefully around the pile; there were no tracks leading out. "now," i said, "if you will take the trouble to move that wood pile you will find in it the remains of the rabbit half devoured and the mink himself. at this moment he is no doubt curled up asleep." as the pile was large and the conclusion more or less self-evident, my brother was content to accept my reading of the episode. [illustration: tracks.] dog tracks, front and back ( / life-size) cat tracks, front and bad ( / life-size) uppermost, well-developed human foot middle, a foot always cramped by boots bottom, a bare foot, never in boots muskrat tracks, ( / life-size) what about winter sleepers although so much is to be read in the wintry white, we cannot now make a full account of all the woodland four-foots, for there are some kinds that do not come out on the snow; they sleep more or less all winter. { } thus, one rarely sees the track of a chipmunk or woodchuck in truly wintry weather; and never, so far as i know, have the trails of jumping mouse or mud turtle been seen in the snow. these we can track only in the mud or dust. such trails cannot be followed as far as those in the snow, simply because the mud and dust do not cover the whole country, but they are usually as clear and in some respects more easy of record. how to make pictures of tracks it is a most fascinating amusement to learn some creature's way of life by following its fresh track for hours in good snow. i never miss such a chance. if i cannot find a fresh track, i take a stale one, knowing that, theoretically, it is fresher at every step, and from practical experience that it always brings one to some track that is fresh. how often i have wished for a perfect means of transferring these wild life tales to paper or otherwise making a permanent collection. my earliest attempts were in free-hand drawing, which answers, but has this great disadvantage--it is a translation, a record discolored by an intervening personality, and the value of the result is likely to be limited by one's own knowledge at the time. casting in plaster was another means attempted; but not one track in ten thousand is fit to cast. nearly all are blemished and imperfect in some way, and the most abundant--those in snow--cannot be cast at all. then i tried spreading plastic wax where the beasts would walk on it, in pathways or before dens. how they did scoff! the simplest ground squirrel knew too much to venture on my waxen snare; around 'it, or if hemmed in, over it, with a mighty bound they went; but never a track did i so secure. photography naturally suggested itself, but the difficulties proved as great as unexpected, almost as great as in casting. not one track in one thousand is fit to photograph; the essential details are almost always left out. you must have open sunlight, and even when the weather is perfect there are practically but two times each day when it is possible--in mid-morning and mid-afternoon, when the sun is high enough for clear photographs and low enough to cast a shadow in the faint track. the coon that showed me how then a new method was suggested in an unexpected way. a friend of mine had a pet coon which he kept in a cage in his bachelor quarters up town. one day, during my friend's { } absence the coon got loose and set about a series of long-deferred exploring expeditions, beginning with the bachelor's bedroom. the first promising object was a writing desk. mounting by a chair the coon examined several uninteresting books and papers, and then noticed higher up a large stone bottle. he had several times found pleasurable stuff in bottles, so he went for it. the cork was lightly in and easily disposed of, but the smell was far from inviting, for it was merely a quart of ink. determined to leave no stone unturned, however, the coon upset the ink to taste and try. alas! it tasted even worse than it smelt; it was an utter failure as a beverage. and the coon, pushing it contemptuously away, turned to a pile of fine hand-made, deckle-edge, heraldry note-paper--the pride of my friend's heart--and when he raised his inky little paws there were left on the paper some beautiful black prints. this was a new idea: the coon tried it again and again. but the ink held out longer than the paper, so that the fur-clad painter worked over sundry books, and the adjoining walls, while the ink, dribbling over everything, formed a great pool below the desk. something attracted the artist's attention, causing him to jump down. he landed in the pool of ink, making it splash in all directions; some of the black splotches reached the white counterpane of the bachelor's bed. another happy idea: the coon now leaped on the bed, racing around as long as the ink on his feet gave results. as he paused to rest, or perhaps to see if any places had been neglected, the door opened, and in came the landlady. the scene which followed was too painful for description; no one present enjoyed it. my friend was sent for to come and take his coon out of there forever. he came and took him away, i suppose "forever." he had only one other place for him--his office and there it was i made the animal's acquaintance and heard of his exploit--an ink and paper, if not a literary affair. this gave me the hint at the zoo i needed, a plan to make an authentic record of animal tracks. armed with printer's ink and paper rolls i set about gathering a dictionary collection of imprints. after many failures and much experiment, better methods were devised. a number of improvements were made by my wife; one was the substitution of black paint for printer's ink, as the latter dries too quickly; another was the padding of the paper, which should be light and soft for very light animals, and stronger and harder for the heavy. printing from a mouse, for example, is much like printing a delicate { } etching; ink, paper, dampness, etc., must be exactly right, and furthermore, you have this handicap--you cannot regulate the pressure. this is, of course, strictly a zoo method. all attempts to secure black prints from wild animals have been total failures. the paper, the smell of paint, etc., are enough to keep the wild things away. in the zoo we spread the black pad and the white paper in a narrow, temporary lane, and one by one drove, or tried to drive, the captives over them, securing a series of tracks that are life-size, properly spaced, absolutely authentic, and capable of yielding more facts as the observer learns more about the subject. as related here, all this sounds quite easy. but no one has any idea how cross, crooked, and contrary a creature can be, until he wishes it to repeat for him some ordinary things that it has hitherto done hourly. some of them balked at the paint, some at the paper, some made a leap to clear all, and thereby wrecked the entire apparatus. some would begin very well, but rush back when half-way over, so as to destroy the print already made, and in most cases the calmest, steadiest, tamest of beasts became utterly wild, erratic, and unmanageable when approached with tracklogical intent. trying it on the cat even domestic animals are difficult. a tame cat that was highly trained to do anything a cat could do, was selected as promising for a black track study, and her owner's two boys volunteered to get all the cat tracks i needed. they put down a long roll of paper in a hall, painted pussy's feet black, and proceeded to chase her up and down. her docility banished under the strain. she raced madly about, leaving long, useless splashes of black; then, leaping to a fanlight, she escaped up stairs to take refuge among the snowy draperies. after which the boys' troubles began. drawing is mostly used these, however, are mere by-accidents and illustrate the many practical difficulties. after these had been conquered with patience and ingenuity, there could be no doubt of the value of the prints. they are the best of records for size, spacing, and detail, but fail in giving incidents of wild life, or the landscape surroundings. the drawings, as already seen, are best for a long series and for faint features; in fact, the { } drawings alone can give everything you can perceive; but they fail in authentic size and detail. photography has this great advantage--it gives the surroundings, the essential landscape and setting, and, therefore, the local reason for any changes of action on the part of the animal; also the aesthetic beauties of its records are unique, and will help to keep the method in a high place. thus each of the three means may be successful in a different way, and the best, most nearly perfect alphabet of the woods, would include all three, and consist of a drawing, a pedoscript and a photograph of each track, and a trail; i.e., a single footprint, and the long series of each animal. my practice has been to use all whenever i could, but still i find free-hand drawing is the one of the most practical application. when i get a photograph i treasure it as an adjunct to the sketch. a story of the trail to illustrate the relative value as records, of sketch and photograph, i give a track that i drew from nature, but which could not at any place have been photographed. this was made in february , , near toronto. it is really a condensation of the facts, as the trail is shortened where uninteresting. page , no. . at a, i found a round place about x inches, where a cottontail had crouched during the light snowfall. at b he had leaped out and sat looking around; the small prints in front were made by his forefeet, the two long ones by his hind feet, and farther back is a little dimple made by the tail, showing that he was sitting on it. something alarmed him, causing him to dart out at full speed toward c and d, and now a remarkable change is to be seen: the marks made by the front feet are behind the large marks made by the hind feet, because the rabbit overreaches each time; the hind feet track ahead of the front feet; the faster he goes, the farther ahead those hind feet get; and what would happen if he multiplied his speed by ten i really cannot imagine. this overreach of the hind feet takes place in most bounding animals. now the cottontail began a series of the most extraordinary leaps and dodgings (d,e,f.) as though trying to escape from some enemy. but what enemy? there were no other tracks. i began to think the rabbit was crazy--was flying from an imaginary foe--that possibly i was on the trail of a march hare. but at g i found for the first time some spots of blood. { } this told me that the rabbit was in real danger but gave no due to its source. i wondered if a weasel were clinging to its neck. a few yards farther, at h, i found more blood. twenty yards more, at i, for the first time on each side of the rabbit trail, were the obvious marks of a pair of broad, strong wings. oho! now i knew the mystery of the cottontail running from a foe that left no track. he was pursued by an eagle, a hawk, or an owl. a few yards farther and i found the remains (j) of the cottontail partly devoured. this put the eagle out of the question; an eagle would have carried the rabbit off boldly. a hawk or an owl then was the assassin. i looked for something to decide which, and close by the remains found the peculiar two-paired track of an owl. a hawk's track would have been as k, while the owl nearly always sets its feet in the ground { } with two toes forward and two toes back. but which owl? there were at least three in the valley that might be blamed. i looked for more proof and got it on the near-by sapling--one small feather, downy, as are all owl feathers, and bearing three broad bars, telling me plainly that a barred owl had been there lately, and that, therefore, he was almost certainly the slayer of the cottontail. as i busied myself making notes, what should come flying up the valley but the owl himself--back to the very place of the crime, intent on completing his meal no doubt. he alighted on a branch ten feet above my head and just over the rabbit remains, and sat there muttering in his throat. the proof in this case was purely circumstantial, but i think that we can come to only one conclusion; that the evidence of the track in the snow was complete and convincing. { } [illustration: tracks; . blarina in snow; . deermouse; . meadow mouse; . masked shrew.] { continued} meadow mouse the meadow mouse autograph (page ) illustrates the black-track method. at first these dots look inconsequent and fortuitous, but a careful examination shows that the creature had four toes with claws on the forefeet, and five on the hind, which is evidence, though not conclusive, that it was a rodent; the absence of tail marks shows that the tail was short or wanting; the tubercules on each palm show to what group of mice the creature belongs. the alternation of the track shows that it was a ground-animal, not a tree-climber; the spacing shows the shortness of the legs; their size determines the size of the creature. thus we come near to reconstructing the animal from its tracks, and see how by the help of these studies, we can get much light on the by-gone animals whose only monuments are tracks in the sedimentary rocks about us--rocks that, when they received these imprints, were the muddy margin of these long-gone creatures' haunts. what the trail gives--the secrets of the woods there is yet another feature of trail study that gives it exceptional value--it is an account of the creature pursuing its ordinary life. if you succeeded in getting a glimpse of a fox or a hare in the woods, the chances are a hundred to one that it was aware of your presence first. they are much cleverer than we are at this sort of thing, and if they do not actually sight or sense you, they observe, and are warned by the action of some other creature that did sense us, and so cease their occupations to steal away or hide. but the snow story will { } tell of the life that the animal ordinarily leads--its method of searching for food, its kind of food, the help it gets from its friends, or sometimes from its rivals--and thus offers an insight into its home ways that is scarcely to be attained in any other way. the trailer has the key to a new storehouse of nature's secrets, another of the sybilline books is opened to his view; his fairy godmother has, indeed, conferred on him a wonderful { } gift in opening his eyes to the foot-writing of the trail. it is like giving sight to the blind man, like the rolling away of fogs from a mountain view, and the trailer comes closer than others to the heart of the woods. dowered with a precious power is he, he drinks where others sipped, and wild things write their lives for him in endless manuscript. { } [illustration: tracks: wild turkey, toad, crow, . jackrabbit . cottontail . gray squirrel . coon . ground bird, such as quail . tree-bird . a bird living partly in tree, partly on ground] { } horses' track _n.b.--the large tracks represent the hind feet_. [illustration: tracks; walking, trotting, canter, galloping, lame horse walking: which leg is the lame in?] these are the tracks of two birds on the ground. one lives generally on the ground, the other in bushes and trees. which track belongs to which bird? (_from sir robert baden powell's book_) { continued} the american morse telegraph alphabet [illustration: morse codes. (tr)] signals . start me. . have you anything for me? . train order (or important military message)--give away. . do you understand? { } . busy. . circuit closed (or closed station). . accept compliments. . deliver (ed). abbreviations ahr--another. ans--answer. ck--check. col--collect. d h--dead head. g a--go ahead. g e--good evening. g m--good morning. g n--good night. g r--government rate. n m--no more. min--wait a moment o b--official business. o k--all right opr--operator. pd--paid. qk--quick. sig--signature. rememberable morse or re-morse alphabet [illustration: rememberable morse or re-morse alphabet.] by this method it is possible to learn the morse alphabet in less than an hour. { } [illustration: scouts using signal flags. (tr)] from a to b in both figures, illustrates method of making a dot. a complete swing from a to c in both figures indicates method of making a dash. wig-wag or myer code _instructions for using the system_ the whole number opposite each letter or numeral stands for that letter or numeral. a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z tion numerals conventional signals end of word wait a moment end of sentence repeat after (word) (word) end of message x x numerals follow (or) numerals end. repeat last word repeat last message sig signature follows. error move a little to right acknowledgment, or "i understand" move a little to left cease signaling signal faster { } abbreviations a after b before c can h have n not r are t the u you ur your w word wi with y yes rememberable myer code the elements--a thick and a thin, i. e. and [illustration: rememberable myer code.] to signal with flag or torch wig-wag there is but one position and three motions. the first position is with the flag or other appliance held vertically, the signalman facing squarely toward the station with which it is desired to communicate. { } the first motion ("one" or " ") is to the right of the sender and will embrace an arc of degrees, starting with the vertical and returning to it, and will be made in a plane at right angle to the line connecting the two stations. the second motion ("two" or " ") is a similar motion to the left of the sender. the third motion ("front," "three" or " ") is downward, directly in front of the sender, and instantly returned upward to the first position. numbers which occur in the body of a message must be spelled out in full. numerals may be used in signaling between stations having naval books, using the code calls. to break or stop the signals from the sending station, make with the flag or other signal continuously. to send a message to call a station signal its letter until acknowledged; if the call letter be not known, signal "e" until acknowledged. to acknowledge a call, signal " understand," followed by the call letter of the acknowledging station. make a slight pause after each letter and also after "front." if the sender discovers that he has made an error he should make followed by , after which he begins the word in which the error occurred. the semaphore signal code the scout may learn the correct angles at which to hold the flags from the diagram. the easiest method of learning the alphabet is by grouping the various letters together as follows: for all letters from a to g, one arm only is used, making a quarter of a circle for each letter in succession. the letters from h to n (except j)--the right arm stands at a while the left moves round the circle for the other letters. for o to s, the right arm stands at b--the left arm moves round as before. for t, u, y and the "annul," the right arm stands at c, the left moving to the next point of the circle successively. the numerical sign j (or alphabetical sign) and v--the right arm stands at position for letter d the left arm only being moved. { } w and x--the left arm stands at position for letter e, the right in this case moving down degrees to show letter x. for the letter z, the left arm stands at the position g--the right arm crosses the breast taking the position f. [illustration: semaphore code. (tr)] { } the letters a to i also stand for the figures to (k standing for ), if you make the numerical sign to show that you are going to send numbers followed by the alphabetical sign (j) when the figures are finished. they will be checked by being repeated back by the receiving station. should figures be wrongly repeated by the receiving station the sending station will send the "annul" sign (which is answered by the same sign) and then send the group of figures again. the sender must always face the station to which he is sending. on a word failing to make sense, the writer down will say, "no," when the reader will at once stop the sending station by raising both arms horizontally to their full extent (letter r). this demand for repetition the sending station will acknowledge by making j. the signaller receiving the message will then send the last word he has read correctly, upon which the sender will continue the message from that word. whistle signs . one long blast means "silence," "alert," "look out for my next signal." also approaching a station. . two short blasts means "all right." . a succession of long, slow blasts means "go out," "get farther away," or "advance," "extend," "scatter." . a succession of short, sharp blasts means "rally," "close in," "come together," "fall in," "danger," "alarm." . three short blasts followed by one long one from scout master calls up the patrol leaders--i.e., "leaders, come here." any whistle signal must be instantly obeyed at the double--as fast as you can run--no matter what other job you may be doing at the time. hand or flag signals hand signals, which can also be made by patrol leaders with their patrol flags when necessary: hand waved several times across the face from side to side or flag waved horizontally, from side to side opposite the face, means "no," "never mind," "as you were." hand or flag held high, and waved as though pushing forward, at full extent of arm, or whistle a succession of slow blasts means "extend," "go farther out," "scatter." hand or flag held high, and waved rapidly from side to side, at full extent of arm, or a succession of short, quick blasts on the whistle, means "close in," "rally," "come here," "danger," "cattle on track." { } hand or flag pointing in any direction means "go in that direction." clenched hand or flag jumped rapidly up and down several times means, "hurry," "run." the movement, pushing or beckoning, indicates whether "hurry here" or "hurry there." hand (or flag) held straight up over head, palm forward, means "stop," "halt." when a leader is shouting an order or message to a scout who is some way off, the scout, if he hears what is being said, should hold up his hand level with his head all the time. if he cannot hear, he should stand still, making no sign. the leader will then repeat louder, or beckon to the scout to come in nearer. the following signals are made by a scout with his staff when he is sent out to reconnoitre within sight of his patrol, and they have the following meaning: staff held up horizontally, that is, level, with both hands above the head, means, "i have found." the same, out with staff moved up and down slowly, means, "i have found, but a long way off." the same, staff moved up and down rapidly, means, "i have found, and close by." the staff held straight up over the head means, "nothing in sight." indian signs and blazes shaking a blanket: i want to talk to you. hold up a tree-branch: i want to make peace. hold up a weapon, means war: i am ready to fight. hold up a pole horizontally, with hands on it: i have found something. [illustration: indian signs and blazes. this is good water. good water not far in this direction. a long way to good water, go in direction of arrow. we camped here because one of us was sick.] { } [illustration: indian signs and blazes. war or trouble about. peace. road to be followed. letter hidden three paces from here in the direction of arrow. this path not to be followed. "i have gone home."] wireless telegraphy _the boy scout wireless club y. m. c. a., newark, n.j._ the following directions are given for an up-to-date wireless apparatus for stationary use in the home or at the meeting place of each patrol. we will consider the receiving apparatus first: [illustration: diagram of wireless transmitter and receiver. (tr)] the first thing to do is to build an aerial. first find out how long your location will allow you to build it, and how high. it ought to be at least to feet high and about to feet long. the main point in building an aerial is to have it { } well insulated from the ground, and all connections in wire perfectly solid. it is advisable to solder every connection and to make your aerial strong as it has a great deal to do with the working qualities of the station. after this is completed, the inside work on instruments should begin. . a pair of watch-case receivers having a resistance of , ohms each, manufactured by a reliable firm. . a loose coupler tuning coil of about meters. . one of mordock's metal detectors or one of similar design. . a variable condenser of about - plates. . a fixed condenser so arranged that its capacity can be changed if desired. with these instruments the receiving set is complete, so we next take up the sending apparatus. . a two-inch induction coil. . a heavy spark gap (zinc preferable). . one wireless key with heavy contacts. . a plate condenser which can be easily made by any scout. good glass is the main point. . a triple pole, double throw aerial switch. (can be made by scouts.) now you have everything necessary to go ahead and assemble your station. the next thing is to connect them up. above is a diagram which will make a good station for a scout. this station, if the aero is of the proper height, is capable of sending messages from to miles. the receiving set perhaps the most fundamentally important part of a wireless telegraph station is the aerial. its construction varies with each station, but a few general suggestions may be of use. the builder should aim to get as high and as long an aerial as possible, height being the more important factor. in a stationary set the aerial may be fastened to a tree or pole or high building while in a field set a tree or an easily portable pole must be used. the aerial itself should be made of copper wire and should be hung between spreaders as long as convenient and insulated from them by two cleat insulators in series at each end. the experimenter should see that his leading-in wire is placed conveniently and comes in contact with the walls, etc., { } as little as possible. all points of contact must be well insulated with glass, porcelain, or hard rubber. the tuning coil is very simple in construction. a cardboard tube, about three inches in diameter, is mounted between two square heads. this tube is wound with no. insulated copper wire and very well shellaced to avoid loosening of the wire. two pieces of one quarter inch square brass rod, to be fastened between the heads, are secured, and a slider, as shown in drawing, is made. the rods are fastened on the heads and the insulation in the path of the slides is then well scraped off. binding posts are then fastened to rods and coil ends. [illustration: details of instruments for field use.] { } the detector, although the most important of the instruments, is perhaps the simplest. it is constructed of a hardwood base with a small brass plate fastened on by means of a binding post. on the other end of the base is fastened a double binding post which holds a brass spring, as in the drawing. on the end of this spring is fastened a copper point made by winding a few inches of no. or wire on it and allowing about three sixteenths of an inch to project. this completes the detector but, for use in this instrument, lead sulphide or galena crystals must be secured. the condenser is made of two pieces of tin-foil, four by ten, and three pieces of waxed paper a little larger than the foil. a piece of wire is twisted into the end of each piece of foil, and then one sheet of foil is laid on a sheet of paper. this is then covered by another sheet of paper upon which is laid the second sheet of foil. on top of this is laid the third sheet of paper and the whole is folded into a convenient bundle. the sheets of foil must be well insulated from each other and the wires must project from the condenser. the ground connection is made by soldering a wire to a cold water pipe. in the case of a portable set the ground may be made by driving a metal rod into the ground or sinking metal netting into a body of water. the telephone receivers cannot well be made and must therefore be bought. the type of phones used will therefore depend entirely on the builder's purse. the sending set the same aerial and ground are used for sending as were used for receiving, and for the experimenter, it will be far cheaper to buy a spark coil for his sending set than to attempt to make one. for a field set there will be very little need of a sending helix, as close tuning will be hardly possible; but for the stationary set this is very useful. the helix is made by building a drum with square heads fastened together by six or eight uprights, arranged on the circumference of a circle. on this then are wound ten or twelve turns of no. or , brass or copper wire. binding posts are fastened to the ends of the wire and variable contact made on the turns by means of metal spring clips. the spark gap is made of a hard-wood base with two uprights to which are fastened strips of brass. under these strips are { } placed two pieces of battery zincs so as to make the gap between their ends variable. binding posts are fastened to the strips for contact. the sending condenser is the same as the receiving in construction, but different in material. the dielectric is glass while the conducting surfaces are tin-foil, arranged in a pile of alternate sheets of glass and foil. the foil is shaped as in drawing and alternate sheets have their lugs projecting on opposite sides, all lugs on same side being connected together. for a one-inch coil but a few of these plates are needed, but for higher power a greater number are necessary. [illustration: wireless telegraph set designed for boy scouts of america by l. horle.] all that now remains is the setting up of the instruments. they are arranged as in the drawing, a double-point, { } double-throw switch being used to switch from sending to receiving. after having connected up the receiving instruments, the receiver is placed at the ear and the point of the detector placed on the various parts of the mineral until the signals are heard clearly. then the tuning coil is adjusted until the signals are loudest. the sending apparatus is set up, the key and batteries having been bought or made, and used to call some other station. the clip is put on various twins of the helix until the other station signals that the signals are loudest. the station is then ready for actual operation. notes { } notes { } notes { } notes { } chapter v health and endurance _george j. fisher, m. d. secretary, physical department international committee young men's christian association_ fitness two things greatly affect the conditions under which a boy lives in these days. one is that he lives in-doors for the greater part of the time, and the other is that he must attend school, which is pretty largely a matter of sitting still. two things therefore are needs of every boy: out-door experience and physical activity. to secure endurance, physical power, physical courage, and skill, the first thing needful is to take stock of one's physical make-up, put the body in the best possible condition for doing its work and then keep it in good order. proper carriage head up, chin in, chest out, and shoulders back is a good slogan for a boy scout who desires an erect figure. one can scarcely think of a round-shouldered scout. yet there are such among the boys who desire to be scouts. there is no particular exercise that a boy can take to cure round shoulders. the thing to remember is that all exercise that is taken should be done in the erect position, then the muscles will hold the body there. an erect body means a deeper chest, room for the important organs to work and thus affords them the best chance to act. a few setting-up exercises each day in the erect position will help greatly to get this result. { } [illustration: exercise ] position: heels together, arms down and at sides, palms in. movement: swing arms, sideways, upward to vertical, and return. [illustration: exercise ] same as exercise i, except that arms are swung forward, upward to vertical. [illustration: exercise .] position: arms extended to side horizontal. movement: swing forward and return. (emphasis upon backward movement.) [illustration: exercise .] position: arms at side, horizontal, back slightly arched. movement: circle arms backward. setting-up exercises { } [illustration: exercise .] position: forearms flexed at side of chest. movement: thrust arms forward and return. [illustration: exercise .] position: arms at front, horizontal, forearms flexed, fingers on shoulders. movement: swing backward to side, horizontal in position. [illustration: exercise .] position: same as exercise . movement: swing downward, forward, bringing arms beyond sides of body. rise on toes with end of backward swing. [illustration: exercise a.] position: arms at vertical, thumbs locked, head fixed between arms. [illustration: exercise b.] movement: bend forward as far as possible, without bending knees, and return. setting-up exercises { } [illustration: exercise .] position: arms at vertical. repeat exercise b [illustration: exercise b.] movement: arm circles, downward, inward, across chest. reverse the movement. [illustration: exercise .] position: arms on hips. movement: forward bend. [illustration: exercise .] position: same as exercise . movement: backward bend. [illustration: exercise .] position: same as exercise . movement: sideward bend, right and left. setting-up exercises { } [illustration: exercise .] position: same as exercise . movement: rotate body of waist. [illustration: exercise .] position: same as exercise . movement: raise high on toes. (hold shoulders back firmly) [illustration: exercise .] position: same as exercise . movement: full knee bend. setting-up exercises growth the chief business of a boy is to grow. he may have other affairs, but this is his chief concern. he should, therefore, have a few simple rules for living and make them a part of his daily life. out-door exercises each day should have its out-door exercises. walking is a splendid form of exercise. walk to school or business; don't ride unless absolutely necessary because of unusual distance. walk with a good, swinging stride with chest well up and spine fairly straight. slow running across country is great; it lacks strain and yet affords splendid stimulation to heart and lungs. cross-country running and hiking should be favorite sport for scout patrols and troops. a boy ought to have at least two hours of sport daily in some good, vigorous game, such as baseball or tennis, and, if he can possibly afford it, at least two periods a week, of an hour each, in a gymnasium, where he can receive guidance in body building. boys under sixteen should avoid exercise of strain, such as weight lifting, or sprint running over one hundred yards, or long distance racing. they should have careful guidance in all gymnastic work. work on apparatus may prove harmful unless of the right sort. the horse { } and parallel bars should be used largely to jump over rather than perform upon. exercises demanding a sustained support of the body with the arms are not helpful, but may be harmful. the chief activity should be of the legs, to strengthen heart and lungs. a boy should be careful not to overdo. in his excitement to win in a contest he is likely to do this unless cautioned. a boy should never try to reduce his weight. now that there are weight classes in sports for boys there is a temptation to do this and it may prove very serious. severe training for athletics should be avoided. all training should be in moderation. medical examinations every boy ought to have, as he takes up his boy-scout work, a thorough medical examination. some physician who is interested in boys will be willing to act as examiner for a patrol or troop. a boy should know the condition of his heart and lungs before entering any contest. if he has any defects in his breathing apparatus--nose, throat, or lungs, these should be attended to or they will seriously interfere with his endurance tests. baths beside exercises a boy should have simple, workable rules for living. a boy ought to take a good soap bath at least twice a week and always after he has played a hard game or performed work of a nature that has caused him to perspire freely. each morning a quick sponge bath should be the first order of the day, in water as cool as he can stand it, followed by a good rub with a coarse towel. if there is a feeling of warmth after the bath, it is helpful, if not, the water should be slightly warm or only a portion of the body should be bathed at a time. pain one thing that should be regarded seriously is pain in any form in any part of the body. if there is a dull headache frequently, find out what causes it. pain in the knee, the arch of the foot, or at any point, should be taken seriously. pain means something wrong. it may be brave to bear it, but it { } is not wise. it may mean something serious. remember that pain felt in one part of the body may be the result of something wrong in another part. see a wise doctor about it. eating and now in reference to what one shall eat. the average boy ought to have and usually does have an appetite like an ostrich. three points to remember are; don't eat too much, most healthy boys do; don't eat meat more than once a day; and, third, don't eat anything that you always taste for several hours after you have eaten it, even though you like it. digestion the fact that you taste it is an indication that your stomach is having a wresting match with the food. some people can't digest onions, others thrive upon them. some can't eat cucumbers, others can do so readily. the one must give them up; the other can continue to eat them. each person has some peculiarity of diet and must observe it to be happy. many a race has been lost through failure to obey this rule. a simple diet is best. most boys eat too much of a mixed nature. they mix pickles, soda water, frankfurters, and chocolate without fear or favor. no wonder there is so much stomach ache. in boys' camps the chief trouble is indigestion caused by this riot of eating. such boys are laying up for themselves for the future some beautiful headaches and bilious attacks, which, when they become chronic later, will cry out against them and seriously impair their value. don't eat when very tired; lie down a while and get rested. don't eat heavily before exercising, or, better, put it the other way around, don't exercise immediately after eating. never eat when excited or angry and very lightly when worried or when expecting to study hard. we should learn to eat slowly and chew the food thoroughly remembering that all food before it can be taken up in the blood must be as thin as pea soup. chewing well will help the digestive organs greatly. always wash the hands before eating. be careful about eating food that has been exposed to the dust unless it has been washed. drink freely of clean water between meals. never use a public drinking cup without thoroughly rinsing it. don't touch your lips to the rim of the cup. boys who cook their own meals when in camp should be { } careful to have their food well done. half-baked and soggy food proves indigestible. coffee and tea should a boy drink coffee or tea? this is a question often asked by boys. coffee and tea are the greatest stimulants known. but does a strong boy need a stimulant? what is a stimulant and what does it do? a stimulant is a whip, making the body do more at a given time than it ordinarily would. it doesn't add any fibre to the tissues, doesn't add any strength, isn't a food, but merely gets more out of the tissues or nervous system than they would ordinarily yield. of course there is a reaction, because the tissues have had nothing to feed on. herbert fisher says that peary's men, who drank lots of tea on their voyage north, during the most trying time of their trip showed it in their haggard faces and loss of tissue. their own tissues had turned cannibal and fed on their own material. stimulants are not foods. they add no strength to the body. they exact of the body what ought not to be exacted of it. there is always a reaction and one is always worse off as a result. growing boys especially should have nothing to do with tea, coffee, or any stimulant. alcohol and tobacco alcohol is not a stimulant, but is really a narcotic that is very depressing. it dulls rather than stimulates. the same is true of nicotine in tobacco. no growing boy should use either. the first athletes to drop out of a race are usually drinkers and all trainers know that smoking is bad for the wind. constipation those boys who find their digestion sluggish and are troubled with constipation may find the following plan helpful in overcoming the condition: drink a cool, copious draught of water upon arising. then take some body-bending exercises. follow this with the sponge bath. then, if possible, take a walk around the block before breakfast. after school, play some favorite game for at least an hour. in the absence of this, take a good hike of three or four miles or a longer bicycle ride. at least twice a week, if possible, enter a gymnasium class and make special emphasis of body-bending exercises. { } have a regular time for going to stool. a good plan is to go just before retiring and immediately upon arising. go even though you feel no desire to do so. a regular habit may be established by this method. always respond quickly to any call of nature. toasted bread and graham bread and the coarser foods and fruit will be found helpful. the teeth closely related to the matter of eating is the proper care of the teeth. perhaps--without care--the mouth is the filthiest cavity of the body. we spend a great deal of energy trying to keep food clean and water pure, but what is the use if we place them in a dirty cavity as they enter the body. full per cent. of the children examined in our schools have decayed and dirty teeth. these decayed teeth provide cavities in which food particles decay and germs grow, and through which poisons are absorbed. these conditions need not exist. now just a few suggestions about the care of the teeth. every boy should own his own tooth brush. the teeth should be scrubbed at least twice a day. at night they should receive most careful cleansing, using a good tooth paste or powder. then again in the morning they should be rinsed at which time simply clean water is sufficient. time should be taken in the cleansing of the teeth. the gums should be included in the scrubbing, as this acts as a good stimulant to the circulation of the blood to the teeth. not only should the teeth be brushed with a backward and forward stroke, as we ordinarily do, but also upward and downward the length of the teeth. in addition to the scrubbing, particles of food which are lodged between the teeth should be removed after meals, or at least after the last meal of the day. this is most safely done by the use of a thread of a fair degree of thickness. dentists and druggists furnish this thread in spools. hard toothpicks often cause bleeding and detach fillings. a dentist should be visited once every six months so as to detect decay immediately. never have a tooth pulled unless absolutely necessary. care of the eyes most troubles with the eyes come from eye strain. styes and red lids are usually due to this cause. see how foolish, therefore, it is to treat these conditions as causes, when really { } they are only the result of something else. of course there are exceptions. sometimes wild hairs and skin disease affect the eyes. eye strain should be removed by wearing well-fitting glasses and then these other conditions will disappear. if constant headache is experienced or the eyes itch or become tired easily, there is possibly eye strain. one way to test the eye is for vision. place the following letters fifteen feet from you. if you cannot read them clearly with both eyes and with each eye separately, consult a first-class oculist. c l v f o t e a c f d l o t d v c l a e o t f never buy eye-glasses unless fitted by an expert. such glasses should be worn in proper relation to the eyes. they should not be permitted to slide forward on the nose or tilt. they may need to be changed often as the eyes grow better. for reading, a good, steady light is needed. never sit in front of a window facing it to read. always have the light come from the rear and over the left shoulder preferably. the book should be held on a level with the face and not too close. sit { } erect. reading when lying down or from the light of a fireplace is unwise. care of the ears affections of the ears are exceedingly serious and may lead to grave results. any trouble with them should be given very prompt attention and a good specialist consulted. pain in the ear, or ringing or hissing sounds, and particularly any discharge from the ear, should not be neglected. any sign of deafness must be heeded. sometimes deafness occurs in reference to some particular sounds while hearing is normal to others. no matter what the degree of deafness may be do not neglect to see a physician about it. ordinarily the tick of a watch can be heard at a distance of thirty inches. if you cannot hear it at that distance and can hear it say at fifteen inches then you are just one half from the normal in your hearing. the test should be made with one ear closed. ear troubles are often caused by sticking foreign objects in the ear, such as hair pins, pins, matches, toothpicks and lead pencils. never pick the ear with anything. often the ear drum is pierced in this way. the normal ear does not require anything more than the usual cleansing with the wash rag over the end of the finger. if wax to any extent accumulates in the ear it should be removed by syringing, but ought to be done by a physician. in camp an insect might crawl into the ear and if alive cause pain. putting oil or other fluids in the ear to drown it is unwise. if a foreign body should get in the ear it should not cause great alarm unless attended with severe pain. if a physician is not available at once such objects may remain for a day or two without serious results. syringing usually removes them, but it should be remembered that some objects like peas or beans swell if made wet. in swimming water is apt to get into the ear and cause annoyance. a rubber ear stop can be secured and placed in the ear at the time of swimming, thus keeping the water out. cotton should not be stuffed into the ear to keep water out, as it may get inside. one thing to keep in mind is that catarrh of the nose and throat often extends into the ear passages through a tube which reaches from the throat to the ear and that syringing of the nose and throat frequently causes trouble in the ear. care of nose and throat always breathe through the nose. air passing through the nose is warmed and moistened and cleansed; thus it gets to { } the lungs in a better condition. if you cannot breathe clearly through the nose, have it examined. there may be a growth present which needs to be removed. to become a good runner this is important. adenoids, which are growths far back in the mouth, often interfere with nose breathing and are serious in other ways. don't stick anything in the nose; and nose picking is not cleanly. if crusts form in the nose, use a little vaseline to soften them. don't blow the nose too vigorously. it may cause trouble. frequent sore throat may be due to enlarged tonsils which either need treatment or removal. to one who has frequent colds in the head, the out-of-door life and morning sponge bath and moderate eating will be of help. care of the feet this is an important matter with scouts, as they will make frequent hikes and tramps. the first thing to do is to walk right. the straight foot is the normal foot. the normal foot is broad at the ball with space between the toes. how different from the awful feet we see with toes twisted upon each other and crowded together. walk with feet pointing straight forward. the feet that turn outward are weak feet. shoes therefore should be straight on the inner border, broad across the ball, and have a low, broad heel. the shoe adopted by the scout movement is a good design. when a foot is normal, the inner border does not touch the floor. by wetting the foot one can see readily whether he is flat-footed by the imprint made. the following exercises are good to strengthen the arches of the foot if there is a tendency to flat feet: ( ) turn toes in, raise the heels, and come down slowly on the outer borders of the feet; ( ) walk with heels raised and toes pointing inward, or walk on the outer borders of the foot, inner borders turned up. shoes should fit the feet comfortably. tight shoes, or shoes that fit loosely, will cause callouses or corns. the way to get rid of these is to remove the cause--namely, the badly-fitting shoes. soft corns are due to pressure between the toes. the toes in such cases should be kept apart with cotton. pointed shoes should be avoided. patent-leather shoes are non-porous and hot. ingrown toe nails are exceedingly painful. the pain comes from the nail piercing the soft parts. allowing the nail to grow long and beyond the point of the tender spot will help; { } and on the side of the nail and under it cotton should be inserted to protect the soft parts. hot foot baths will generally relieve tired feet. boys should be very careful in trimming corns for fear of blood poisoning. never buy plates at a store for flat feet. they may not be adapted to your needs. always consult a foot specialist for treatment and buy plates if needed on his order. only severe cases need plates. many boys are troubled with perspiring feet and are frequently annoyed by the odor resulting. those who are thus troubled should wash the feet often and carefully, especially, between the toes. by dusting the feet with boric acid the odor will disappear. at first it may be necessary to change the stockings daily. in severe cases two pairs of shoes should be used, changing alternately. care of the finger nails the chief thing in the care of the finger nails is to keep them clean. each boy should possess and use a nail brush. always wash the hands thoroughly before eating, and use the end of a nail file to remove the accumulation still remaining under the nails. keep the nails properly trimmed. they should not be too long nor too short. if long they are liable to break and if short to be sensitive. biting the nails is a filthy practice and mutilates the fingers dreadfully and makes them unsightly. it is a very hard habit to overcome ofttimes and will require persistent effort in order to succeed. by keeping the nails smooth the tendency to bite them will to some extent be overcome. a bitter application to the nails will often remind one of the habit, as often the biting is done unconsciously. the nails should never be pared with a knife; a curved pair of scissors is better as the cutting should be done in a curved direction; but the best method is to use a file. the skin overhanging the nails should be pressed back once a week to keep them shapely. rubbing the nails with a nail buffer or cloth will keep them polished. sleep one thing a growing boy wants to be long on is sleep, and yet he is most apt to be careless about it. it is during sleep that a boy grows most and catches up. during his waking hours he tears down and burns up more tissue than he builds. good, sound and sufficient sleep is essential to growth, strength, { } and endurance. a boy scout should have at least nine or ten hours sleep out of every twenty-four. if you lose out on this amount on one day, make it up the next. whenever unusually tired, or when you feel out of trim, stay in bed a few hours more if it is possible. a boy should wake up each morning feeling like a fighting cock. when he doesn't he ought to get to bed earlier that night. sleep is a wonderful restorative and tonic. it helps to store up energy and conserve strength. sleeping out of doors the conditions under which one sleeps are as important as the length of time one sleeps. many people are finding it wonderfully helpful and invigorating to sleep out of doors. often a back porch can be arranged, or, in summer, a tent can be pitched in the yard. but, by all means, the sleeping room should be well ventilated. windows should be thrown wide open. avoid drafts. if the bed is in such relation to the windows as to cause the wind to blow directly on it, a screen can be used to divert it or a sheet hung up as protection. good, fresh, cool air is a splendid tonic. in winter open windows are a splendid preparation for camping out in summer. conservation in this chapter much has been said of the active measures which a boy should take in order to become strong and well. we should be equally concerned in saving and storing up natural forces we already have. in the body of every boy, who has reached his teens, the creator of the universe has sown a very important fluid. this fluid is the most wonderful material in all the physical world. some parts of it find their way into the blood, and through the blood give tone to the muscles, power to the brain, and strength to the nerves. this fluid is the sex fluid. when this fluid appears in a boy's body, it works a wonderful change in him. his chest deepens, his shoulders broaden, his voice changes, his ideals are changed and enlarged. it gives him the capacity for deep feeling, for rich emotion. pity the boy, therefore, who has wrong ideas of this important function, because they will lower his ideals of life. these organs actually secrete into the blood material that makes a boy manly, strong, and noble. any habit which a boy has that causes this fluid to be discharged from the body tends to weaken his strength, to make him less able to resist disease, and often unfortunately fastens upon him habits which later in life he { } cannot break. even several years before this fluid appears in the body such habits are harmful to a growing boy. to become strong, therefore, one must be pure in thought and clean in habit. this power which i have spoken of must be conserved, because this sex function is so deep and strong that there will come times when temptation to wrong habits will be very powerful. but remember that to yield means to sacrifice strength and power and manliness. for boys who desire to know more of this subject we would suggest a splendid book by dr. winfield s. hall, entitled, "from youth into manhood." every boy in his teens who wants to know the secret of strength, power, and endurance should read this book. notes { } notes { } notes { } notes { } chapter vi chivalry _by john l. alexander, boy scouts of america_ ancient knighthood a little over fifteen hundred years ago the great order of knighthood and chivalry was founded. the reason for this was the feeling on the part of the best men of that day that it was the duty of the stronger to help the weak. these were the days when might was right, and the man with the strongest arm did as he pleased, often oppressing the poor and riding rough shod without any regard over the feelings and affections of others. in revolt against this, there sprang up all over europe a noble and useful order of men who called themselves knights. among these great-hearted men were arthur, gareth, lancelot, bedivere, and alfred the great. the desire of these men was "to live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the king." of course in these days there also lived men who called themselves knights, but who had none of the desire for service that inspired arthur and the others. these false knights, who cared for no one but themselves and their own pleasure, often brought great sorrow to the common people. chivalry then was a revolt against their brutal acts and ignorance and a protest against the continuation of the idea that might was right. nowhere in all the stories that have come down to us have the acts of chivalry been so well told as in the tales of the round table. here it was that king arthur gathered about him men like sir bors, sir gawaine, sir pellias, sir geraint, sir tristram, sir lancelot, and sir galahad. these men moved by the desire of giving themselves in service, cleared the forests of wild animals, suppressed the robber barons, { } punished the outlaws, bullies, and thieves of their day, and enforced wherever they went a proper respect for women. it was for this great service that they trained themselves, passing through the degrees of page, esquire, and knight with all the hard work that each of these meant in order that they might the better do their duty to their god and country. [illustration: ancient knight.] struggle for freedom of course this struggle of right against wrong was not confined to the days in which chivalry was born. the founding of the order of knighthood was merely the beginning of the age-long struggle to make right the ruling thought of life. long after knighthood had passed away, the struggle continued. in the birth of the modern nations, england, germany, france, and others, there was the distinct feeling on the part of the best men of these nations that might should and must give way to right, and that tyranny must yield to the spirit of freedom. the great struggle of the english barons under king john and the wresting from the king of the magna charta, which became the basis of english liberty, was merely another development of the idea for which chivalry stood. the protest of the french revolution, and the terrible doings of the common people in these days, although wicked and brutal in method, were symptoms of the same revolt against oppression. [illustration: pilgrim father.] the pilgrim fathers when the pilgrim fathers founded the american colonies, the work of arthur and alfred and the other great men of ancient days was renewed and extended and fitted to the new conditions and times. with the english settlements of raleigh and captain john smith we might almost say that a new race of men was born and a new kind of knight was developed. all over america an idea made itself felt that in the eyes of the law every man should be considered just as good as every other man, and that every man ought to have a fair and square chance { } at all the good things that were to be had in a land of plenty. it was this spirit that compelled the colonists to seek their independence and that found its way into our declaration of independence as follows: we hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. the fight of the colonists was the old-time fight of the knights against the oppression and injustice and the might that dared to call itself right. [illustration: pioneer.] american pioneers no set of men, however, showed this spirit of chivalry more than our pioneers beyond the alleghanies. in their work and service they paralleled very closely the knights of the round table, but whereas arthur's knights were dressed in suits of armor, the american pioneers were dressed in buckskin. they did, however, the very same things which ancient chivalry had done, clearing the forests of wild animals, suppressing the outlaws and bullies and thieves of their day and enforcing a proper respect for women. like the old knights they often were compelled to do their work amid scenes of great bloodshed, although they loved to live in peace. these american knights and pioneers were generally termed backwoods men and scouts, and were men of distinguished appearance, of athletic build, of high moral character and frequently of firm religious convictions. such men as "apple-seed johnny," daniel boone, george rogers clark, simon kenton and john james audubon, are the types of men these pioneers were. they were noted for their staunch qualities of character. they hated dishonesty and were truthful and brave. they were polite to women and old people, ever ready to rescue a companion when in danger, and equally ready to risk their lives for a stranger. they were very hospitable, dividing their last crust with one another, or with the stranger whom they happened to meet. they were ever ready to do an act of kindness. { } they were exceedingly simple in their dress and habits. they fought the indians, not because they wished to, but because it was necessary to protect their wives and children from the raids of the savages. they knew all the things that scouts ought to know. they were acquainted with the woods and the fields; knew where the best fish were to be caught; understood the trees, the signs and blazes, the haunts of animals and how to track them; how to find their way by the stars; how to make themselves comfortable in the heart of the primeval forest; and such other things as are classed under the general term of woodcraft. and, with all this, they inherited the splendid ideas of chivalry that had been developed in the thousand years preceding them, and fitted these ideas to the conditions of their own day, standing solidly against evil and falsehood whenever they lifted their head among them. they were not perfect, but they did their best to be of service to those who came within their reach and worked conscientiously for their country. [illustration: modern knight.] modern knighthood a hundred years have passed since then, and the conditions of life which existed west of the alleghanies are no more. just as the life of the pioneers was different from that of the knights of the round table, and as they each practised chivalry in keeping with their own sur-roundings, so the life of to-day is different from both, but the need of chivalry is very much the same. might still tries to make right, and while there are now no robber barons or outlaws with swords and spears, their spirit is not unknown in business and commercial life. vice and dishonesty lift their heads just as strongly to-day as in the past and there is just as much need of respect for women and girls as there ever was. so to-day there is a demand for a modern type of chivalry. it is for this reason that the boy scouts of america have come into being; for there is need of service in these days, and that is represented by the good turn done to somebody every day. doing the good turn daily will help to form the habit of useful service. a boy scout, then, while living in modern times, must consider himself the heir of ancient chivalry { } and of the pioneers, and he must for this reason give himself to ever renewed efforts to be true to the traditions which have been handed down to him by these great and good leaders of men. the boy-scout movement is a call to american boys to-day to become in spirit members of the order of chivalry, and a challenge to them to make their lives count in the communities in which they live--for clean lives, clean speech, clean sport, clean habits, and clean relationships with others. it is also a challenge for them to stand for the right against the wrong, for truth against falsehood, to help the weak and oppressed, and to love and seek the best things of life. abraham lincoln [illustration: portrait of abraham lincoln. (tr)] perhaps there is no better example of chivalry than the life and experience of abraham lincoln, the greatest of all our american men. every boy ought to read the story of his life and come to understand and appreciate what it means. lincoln was born in the backwoods of kentucky. he was a tall, spare man of awkward build, and knew very little of the school room as a boy. he fought for his education. he borrowed books wherever he could. many long nights were spent by him before the flickering lights of the log cabin, gleaning from his borrowed treasures the knowledge he longed to possess. he passed through all the experiences of life that other scouts and pioneers have experienced. he split rails for a livelihood, and fought his way upward by hard work, finally achieving for himself an education in the law, becoming an advocate in the courts of illinois. wherever he went, he made a profound impression on the lives and minds of the people and won over his political opponents by his strength, sympathy, { } and breadth of mind. at the period when storms threatened to engulf our ship of state, he became president of our country. although lincoln was an untried pilot, he stood by the helm like a veteran master. a man of earnest and intense conviction, he strove to maintain the glory of our flag and to keep the union un-broken. hundreds of stories are told of his great heart and almost boundless sympathy for others. the generals of the civil war were deeply attached to him, and the rank and file of the sold-iers who fought under these generals loved and revered him. he was familiarly known as "honest abe." he could always be relied upon to give help and encouragement. his smile cheered the defenders of the union, and his wise counsel gave heart to the men who were helping him to shape the destinies of the nation. at the close of the war which saw the union more firmly established than ever, he fell by the hand of the assassin, mourned deeply both by his own country and by the world at large. the further we get from the scene of his life and work the more firmly are we, his countrymen, convinced of his sincerity, strength, wisdom, and bigness of heart. the two men who stand out preeminently in history among great americans are washington and lincoln, the former as the founder of the union and the latter as the man who gave it unbreakable continuity and preserved it, as we hope and believe, for all time. [illustration: using every opportunity.] lincoln's life and career should be the study and inspiration of every boy scout. he became familiar with all of the things for which the boy scouts of america stand. he was a lover of the wild things in the woods, and loved and lived the life of the out-of-doors. he had a high sense of honor and was intensely chivalrous, as the many hundred stories told about { } him testify. he did many times more than one good turn a day; he sincerely loved his country; he lived, fought, and worked for it; and finally he sealed his loyalty by giving his life. the path that he travelled from the log cabin to the white house clearly shows that an american boy who has well defined ideas of truth and right, and then dares to stand by them, can become great in the councils of the nation. the life, then, of abraham lincoln should be a steady inspiration to every boy who wishes to call himself a scout. challenge of the present thus we see that chivalry is not a virtue that had its beginning long ago and merely lived a short time, becoming a mere story. chivalry began in the far-distant past out of the desire to help others, and the knights of the olden days did this as best they could. later the new race of men in america took up the burden of chivalry, and did the best they could. now the privilege and responsibility comes to the boys of to-day, and the voices of the knight of the olden time and of the hardy pioneers of our own country are urging the boys of to-day to do the right thing, in a gentlemanly way, for the sake of those about them. all of those men, whether knights or pioneers, had an unwritten code, somewhat like our scout law, and their motto was very much like the motto of the boy scouts, "be prepared." [illustration: politeness.] good manners the same thing that entered into the training of these men, knights, pioneers, and lincoln, then, must enter into the training of the boy scouts of to-day. just as they respected women and served them, so the tenderfoot and the scout must be polite and kind to women, not merely to well-dressed women, but to poorly-dressed women; not merely to young women, but to old women: to women wherever they may be found-- { } wherever they may be. to these a scout must always be courteous and helpful. when a scout is walking with a lady or a child, he should always walk on the outside of the sidewalk, so that he can better protect them against the jostling crowds. this rule is only altered when crossing the street, when the scout should get between the lady and the traffic, so as to shield her from accident or mud. also in meeting a woman or child, a scout, as a matter of course, should always make way for them even if he himself has to step off the sidewalk into the mud. when riding in a street car or train a scout should never allow a woman, an elderly person, or a child to stand, but will offer his seat; and when he does it he should do it cheerfully and with a smile. when on the street, be continually on a quest, on the lookout to help others, and always refuse any reward for the effort. this kind of courtesy and good manners is essential to success. it was this unselfish desire to protect and help that made these men of olden time such splendid fellows. good manners attract and please, and should be cultivated by every boy who expects to win success and make his life interesting to others. in the home, on the street, in the school, in the workshop or the office, or wherever one may be, his relationship to others should be characterized as gentle, courteous, polite, considerate and thoughtful. these are virtues and graces that make life easier and pleasanter for all. cheerfulness as has been said, whatever a scout does should be done with cheerfulness, and the duty of always being cheerful cannot be emphasized too much. why don't you laugh, and make us all laugh too, and keep us mortals all from getting blue? a laugh will always win. if you can't laugh--just grin. go on! let's all join in! why don't you laugh? benjamin franklin said: "money never yet made a man happy, and there is nothing in its nature to produce happiness, one's personal enjoyment is a very small thing, but one's personal usefulness is a very important thing." those only are happy who have their minds fixed upon some object other and higher than their own happiness. doctor raffles once said, { } "i have made it a rule never to be with a person ten minutes without trying to make him happier." a boy once said to his mother, "i couldn't make little sister happy, nohow i could fix it, but i made myself happy trying to make her happy." there was once a king who had a tall, handsome son whom he loved with his whole heart, so he gave him everything that his heart desired--a pony to ride, beautiful rooms to live in, picture books, stories, and everything that money could buy. and yet, in spite of this, the young prince was unhappy and wore a wry face and a frown wherever he went, and was always wishing for something he did not have. by and by, a magician came to the court, and seeing a frown on the prince's face, said to the king, "i can make your boy happy and turn his frown into a smile, but you must pay me a very large price for the secret." "all right," said the king, "whatever you ask, i will do." so the magician took the boy into a private room, and with white liquid wrote something on a piece of paper; then he gave the boy a candle and told him to warm the paper and read what was written. the prince did as he was told. the white letters turned into letters of blue, and he read these words; "do a kindness to some one every day." so the prince followed the magician's advice and became the happiest boy in all the king's realm. to be a good scout one must remain cheerful under every circumstance, bearing both fortune and misfortune with a smile. [illustration: cheer up.] character if a scout is cheerful, follows the advice of the magician to the king's son, and does a good turn to some one every day, he will come into possession of a strong character such as the knights of the round table had; for, after all, character is the thing that distinguishes a good scout from a bad one. character is not what men say about you. a great writer { } once said, "i can't hear what you say for what you are," and another one said, "your life speaks louder than your words." it was not the words of the knights of old that told what they were. it was their strong life and fine character that gave power to their words and the thrust to their spears. it is necessary that a boy should live right and possess such a character as will help him to do the hardest things of life. every boy should remember that he is in reality just what he is when alone in the dark. the great quests of the knights were most often done singly and alone. will another thing that entered into the make-up of a knight was an iron will. he had staying powers because he willed to stick; and the way he trained his will to do the hard things was to keep himself doing the small things. not long ago, there was a lad whom the boys nicknamed "blockey" and "wooden man." when they played ball in the school play ground, blockey never caught the ball. when they worked together in the gymnasium, blockey was always left out of the game because he couldn't do things, and was slow and unwieldy in his motions. but one day, a great change came over blockey and he began to train his will. he worked hard in the gymnasium: he learned to catch the ball, and, by sticking to it, was not only able to catch the ball but became proficient. then there came a time when the first one chosen upon the team was blockey; and it all came about because he had trained his will so that when he made up his mind to do a thing, he did it. thrift another thing which entered into the training of a knight was his readiness to seize his opportunities. the motto of the scout is "be prepared." he should be prepared for whatever opportunity presents itself. an interesting story is told by orison swett marden. he says that a lad, who later became one of the millionaires of one of our great western cities, began his earning career by taking advantage of an opportunity that came to him as he was passing an auction shop. he saw several boxes of a kind of soap which his mother was accustomed to buy from the family grocer. hastening to the grocery store he asked the price of the soap. "twelve cents a pound" was the reply. on being pressed for a lower figure the shopkeeper remarked in a bantering tone that he would buy all that the boy could bring to his store at { } nine cents a pound. the boy hurried back to the auction and bought the soap at six cents a pound. it was in this way that he made his first money in trade and laid the foundation of his fortune. the knight never waited for opportunity to come to him. he went out looking for it, and wore his armor in order that he might be ready for it when it came. there is a story of a greek god who had only one lock of hair upon his forehead. the remainder of his head was shining bald. in order to get this ancient god's attention, it was necessary to grip him by his forelock, for when he had passed, nothing could check his speed. so it is with opportunity, and the hour of opportunity. a good scout is ready for both and always grips "time by the forelock." individuality if the foregoing qualities enter into a scout's training, an individuality will be developed in him, which will make itself known and felt. every scout should read over the following list of scout virtues, and should strive at all times to keep them before him in his training, thus making them a part of his life: unselfishness: the art of thinking of others first and one's self afterward. self sacrifice: the giving up of one's comfort, desires, and pleasures for the benefit of some one else. kindness: the habit of thinking well of others and doing good to them. friendliness: the disposition to make everyone you meet feel at ease, and to be of service to him if possible. honesty: the desire to give to every one a square deal and the same fair chance that you yourself wish to enjoy. it means also respect for the property and rights of others, the ability to face the truth, and to call your own faults by their right name. fair play: scorning to take unfair advantage of a rival and readiness even to give up an advantage to him. loyalty: the quality of remaining true and faithful not only to your principles but also to your parents and friends. obedience: compliance with the wishes of parents or those in places of authority. discipline: that self-restraint and self-control that keep a boy steady, and help him in team work. endurance: a manly moderation which keeps a boy fit and strong and in good condition. { } self improvement: the ambition to get on in life by all fair means. humility: that fine quality which keeps a scout from boasting, and which generally reveals a boy of courage and achievement. honor: that great thing which is more sacred than anything else to scouts and gentlemen; the disdain of telling or implying an untruth; absolute trustworthiness and faithfulness. duty to god: that greatest of all things, which keeps a boy faithful to his principles and true to his friends and comrades; that gives him a belief in things that are high and noble, and which makes him prove his belief by doing his good turn to some one every day. this list of virtues a scout must have, and if there are any that standout more prominently than the others, they are the following: [illustration: scout protecting child from mad dog.] courage it is horrible to be a coward. it is weak to yield to fear and heroic to face danger without flinching. the old indian who had been mortally wounded faced death with a grim smile on his lips and sang his own death song. the soldier of the { } roman legions laughed in the face of death, and died often with a "hail, imperator!" for the roman caesar upon his lips. one of the stories connected with the battle of agincourt tells us that four fair ladies had sent their knightly lovers into battle. one of these was killed. another was made prisoner. the third was lost in the battle and never heard of afterward. the fourth was safe, but owed his safety to shameful flight. "ah! woe is me," said the lady of this base knight, "for having placed my affections on a coward. he would have been dear to me dead. but alive he is my reproach." a scout must be as courageous as any knight of old or any roman soldier or any dying indian. loyalty loyalty is another scout virtue which must stand out prominently, because it is that which makes him true to his home, his parents, and his country. charles viii, at the battle of foronovo, picked out nine of his bravest officers and gave to each of them a complete suit of armor, which was a counterpart of his own. by this device he outwitted a group of his enemies who had leagued themselves to kill him during the fight. they sought him through all the ranks, and every time they met one of these officers they thought they had come face to face with the king. the fact that these officers hailed such a dangerous honor with delight and devotion is a striking illustration of their loyalty. the scout should be no less loyal to his parents, home, and country. duty to god no scout can ever hope to amount to much until he has learned a reverence for religion. the scout should believe in god and god's word. in the olden days, knighthood, when it was bestowed, was a religious ceremony, and a knight not only considered himself a servant of the king, but also a servant of god. the entire night preceding the day upon which the young esquire was made knight was spent by him on his knees in prayer, in a fast and vigil. there are many kinds of religion in the world. one important point, however, about them is that they all involve the worship of the same god. there is but one leader, although many ways of following him. if a scout meets one of another religion, he should remember that he, too, is striving for the best. { } a scout should respect the convictions of others in matters of custom and religion. [illustration: scout helping old lady across street.] a boy scout's religion the boy scouts of america maintain that no boy can grow into the best kind of citizenship without recognizing his obligation to god. the first part of the boy scout's oath or pledge is therefore: "i promise on my honor to do my best to honor my god and my country." the recognition of god as the ruling and leading power in the universe, and the grateful acknowledgement of his favors and blessings is necessary to the best type of citizenship and is a wholesome thing in the education of the growing boy. no matter what the boy may be--catholic, or protestant, or jew--this fundamental need of good citizenship should be kept before him. the boy scouts of america therefore recognize the religious element in the training of a boy, but it is absolutely non-sectarian in its attitude toward that religious training. its policy is that the organization or institution with which the boy scout is connected shall give definite attention to his religious life. if he be a catholic boy scout, the catholic church of which he is a member is the best channel for his training. if he be a hebrew boy, then the synagogue will train him in the faith of his fathers. if he be a protestant, no matter to what denomination of protestantism he may belong, the church of which he is an adherent or a member should be the proper organization to give him an education in the things that pertain to his allegiance to god. the boy scouts of america, then, while recognizing the fact that the boy should be taught the things that pertain to religion, insists upon the boy's religious life being stimulated and fostered by the institution with which he is connected. of course, it is a fundamental principle of the boy scouts of america to insist on { } clean, capable leadership in its scout masters, and the influence of the leader on the boy scout should be of a distinctly helpful character. work, not luck life, after all, is just this: some go through life trusting to luck. they are not worthy to be scouts. others go through life trusting to hard work and clear thinking. these are they who have cleared the wilderness and planted wheat where forests once grew, who have driven back the savage, and have fostered civilization in the uncultivated places of the earth. the good scout is always at work--working to improve himself and to improve the daily lot of others. the thing that is to be noticed in all of these men, those of the round table, and those of american pioneer days, is the fact that they were ever ready to do a good turn to some one. the knights of the round table did theirs by clash of arms, by the jousts and the tourney, and by the fierce hand-to-hand fights that were their delight in open battle. the old scouts, our own pioneers, very often had to use the rifle and the hatchet and the implements of war. however, those days have passed, and we are living in a non-military and peace-loving age; and the glory of it is that, whereas these men took their lives in their hands and by dint of rifle and sword did their part in helping others, our modern civilization gives the boy scouts of america an opportunity to go out and do their good turn daily for others in the thousand ways that will benefit our american life the most. sometimes they will have to risk their lives, but it will be in case of fire or accident or catastrophe. at other times they will be given the privilege of showing simple deeds of chivalry by their courteous treatment of their elders, cripples, and children, by giving up their seats in street cars, or by carrying the bundles of those who are not as physically strong as themselves. and in it all will come the satisfying feeling that they are doing just as much and perhaps a great deal more than the iron-clad men or the buckskin clothed scouts in making their country a little safer and a little better place to live in. chivalry and courtesy and being a gentleman mean just as much now as they ever did, and there is a greater demand in these days to live pure, to speak true, and to help others by a good turn daily than ever before in the world's history. { } notes { } notes { } notes { } chapter vii first aid and life saving _major charles lynch, medical corps, u. s. a. acting for the american red cross_ prevention of accidents general considerably over a million persons are seriously injured in the united states each year. the enormous loss of life and the great suffering involved certainly demand that every boy scout do what he can to improve conditions in this respect. some accidents happen under all circumstances, but, on the other hand a great many accidents are avoidable and probably quite one half of the injuries which occur in the united states yearly could be prevented if common care were exercised. panics and their prevention in case of a panic, at an in-door assembly, scouts, if they live up to their motto, "be prepared," will be able to save hundreds of lives. there is usually plenty of time for people to get out of a building if the exits are not blocked by too many crowding them at once. one should, if possible, try to arrange to have the performance go on, and the others could reassure the people and get them to go out quietly through the exits provided. almost all scouts know how quickly and safely our school buildings are cleared by means of the fire drill. fires fires constitute a danger as great as panics, and scouts should be equally well informed what to do in case of fire. it is the duty of a scout to know how to prevent fires. many fires are caused by carelessness. never throw away a lighted match, for it may fall on inflammable material and start a fire. reading in bed by the light of a lamp or candle is dangerous, for if the reader goes to sleep the bed clothing is likely to catch fire. { } a scout may often have to dry his clothes before a fire and if so, they should be carefully watched. hot ashes in wooden boxes, or in barrels, are responsible for many fires. in camp, dry grass should be cut away from the locality of the camp fire; and not to put out a camp fire on leaving a camp is criminal. many of the great fires in our forests have been due to carelessness in this respect. fires also result frequently from explosions of gas or gunpowder. a room in which the odor of gas is apparent should never be entered with a light, and in handling gunpowder a scout should have no matches loose in his pockets. how to put out burning clothing if your own clothing should catch fire do not run for help as this will fan the flames. lie down and roll up as tightly as possible in an overcoat, blanket, or rug. if nothing can be obtained in which to wrap up, lie down and roll over slowly at the same time beating out the fire with the hands. if another person's clothing catches fire, throw him to the ground and smother the fire with a coat, blanket, or rug. what to do in case of fire a fire can usually be put out very easily when it starts, and here is an occasion when a scout can show his presence of mind and coolness. at first a few buckets of water or blankets or woollen clothing thrown upon a fire will smother it. sand, ashes, or dirt, or even flour, will have the same effect. [transcriber's note: flour dust suspended in air is explosive.] if a scout discovers a building to be on fire, he should sound the alarm for the fire department at once. if possible he should send some one else, as the scout will probably know better what to do before the fire-engine arrives. all doors should be kept closed so as to prevent draughts. if you enter the burning building, close the window or door after you, if possible, and leave some responsible person to guard it so it will not be opened and cause a draught. in searching for people, go to the top floor and walk down, examining each room as carefully as possible. if necessary to get air while making the search, close the door of the room, open a window, and stick the head out until a few breaths can be obtained. afterward close the window to prevent a draught. if doors are found locked and you suspect people are asleep inside, knock and pound on doors to arouse them. if this produces no results, you will have to try to break down the door. while searching through a burning building it will be best to tie a wet handkerchief or cloth { } over the nose and mouth. you will get a little air from the water. remember the air within six inches of the floor is free from smoke, so when you have difficulty in breathing, crawl along the floor, with the head low, dragging anyone you have rescued behind you. if you tie the hands of an insensible person together with a handkerchief and put them over your head, you will find it fairly easy to crawl along the floor dragging him with you. [illustration: learning by doing.] never jump from a window unless the flames are so close to you that this is the only means of escape. if you are outside a building, put bedding in a pile to break the jumper's fall, or get a strong carpet or rug to catch him, and have it firmly held by as many men and boys as can secure hand holds. in country districts, scouts should organize a bucket brigade which consists of two lines from the nearest water supply to the fire. scouts in one line pass buckets, pitchers, or anything else that will hold water from one to another till the last scout { } throws the water on the fire. the buckets are returned by the other line. drowning drowning accidents are very common. every scout should know how to swim and to swim well, but this is not all that is necessary. he should also know how to prevent accidents that may result in drowning. in summer, boating and bathing accidents are common. remember a light boat is not intended for heavy seas; do not change seats except in a wide and steady boat; and above all things do not put yourself in the class of idiots who rock a boat. at the sea-shore, unless you are a strong swimmer, do not go outside the life line, and if the undertow is strong be careful not to walk out where the water is so deep it will carry you off your feet. very cold water and very long swims are likely to exhaust even a strong swimmer and are therefore hazardous unless a boat accompanies the swimmer. rescue of the drowning (_see pages to _) ice rescue to rescue a person who has broken through the ice you should first tie a rope around your body and have the other end tied, or held, on shore. then secure a long board or a ladder or limb of a tree, crawl out on this, or push it out, so that the person in the water may reach it. if nothing can be found on which you can support your weight do not attempt to walk out toward the person to be rescued, but lie down flat on your face and crawl out, as by doing this much less weight bears at anyone point on the ice than in walking. if you yourself break through the ice remember that if you try to crawl up on the broken edge it will very likely break again with you. if rescuers are near, it would be much better to support yourself on the edge of the ice and wait for them to come to you. restoring the drowning and artificial respiration (_see pages to _) electric accidents for his own benefit and that of his comrades, the scout should know how to avoid accidents from electricity. the third rail is always dangerous, so do not touch { } it. swinging wires of any kind may somewhere in their course be in contact with live wires, so they should not be touched. a person in contact with a wire or rail carrying an electric current will transfer the current to the rescuer. therefore he must not touch the unfortunate victim unless his own body is thoroughly insulated. the rescuer must act very promptly, for the danger to the person in contact is much increased the longer the electric current is allowed to pass through his body. if possible, the rescuer should insulate himself by covering his hands with a mackintosh, rubber sheeting, several thicknesses of silk, or even dry cloth. in addition he should, if possible, complete his insulation by standing on a dry board, a thick piece of paper, or even on a dry coat. rubber gloves and rubber shoes or boots are still safer, but they cannot usually be procured quickly. if a live wire is under a person and the ground is dry, it will be perfectly safe to stand on the ground and pull him off the wire with the bare hands, care being taken to touch only his clothing, and this must not be wet. a live wire lying on a patient may be flipped off with safety with a dry board or stick. in removing the live wire from the person, or the person from the wire, do this, with one motion, as rocking him to and fro on the wire will increase shock and burn. a live wire may be safely cut by an axe or hatchet with dry, wooden handle. the electric current may be short circuited by dropping a crow-bar or poker on the wire. these must be dropped on the side from which the current is coming and not on the farther side, as the latter will not short circuit the current before it is passed through the body of the person in contact. drop the metal bar; do not place it on the wire or you will then be made a part of the short circuit and receive the current of electricity through your body. what to do for electric shocks always send for a doctor, but do not wait for him. treatment should be given even if the man appears to be dead. loosen the clothing around neck and body. proceed to restore breathing by artificial respiration as in drowning. (see pages , .) gas accidents the commonest gas encountered is the ordinary illuminating gas. to prevent such gas from escaping in dangerous { } quantities, leaks in gas pipes should be promptly repaired. be careful in turning off gas to make sure that gas is actually shut off. it is dangerous to leave a gas jet burning faintly when you go to sleep: as it may go out if pressure in the gas pipe becomes less, and if pressure is afterward increased gas may escape into the room. coal gas will escape through red-hot cast-iron, and very big fires in such stoves are dangerous, especially in sleeping rooms. charcoal burned in open vessels in tight rooms is especially dangerous. in underground sewers and wells other dangerous gases are found. if a lighted candle or torch will not burn in such a place, it is very certain the air will be deadly for any person who enters. to rescue an unconscious person in a place filled with gas, move quickly and carry him out without breathing yourself. take a few deep breaths before entering and if possible hold breath while in the place. frequently less gas will be found near the floor of a building, so one may be able to crawl where it would be dangerous to walk. what to do for gas poisoning proceed to restore breathing by artificial respiration as in drowning. (see pages , .) runaway horses the method for checking a horse running away is not to run out and wave your arm in front of him, as this will only cause him to dodge to one side and to run faster, but to try to run alongside the vehicle with one hand on the shaft to prevent yourself from falling, seizing the reins with the other hand and dragging the horse's head toward you. if when he has somewhat slowed down by this method, you can turn him toward a wall or a house he will probably stop. mad dog the first thing to do is to kill the mad dog at once. wrap a handkerchief around the hand to prevent the dog's teeth from entering the flesh and grasp a club of some kind. if you can stop the dog with a stick you should hit him hard over the head with it, or kick him under the jaw. a handkerchief held in front of you in your outstretched hands will generally cause the dog to stop to paw it before he attempts to bite you. this will give you an opportunity to kick him under the lower jaw. { } another way suggested is to wrap a coat around the left arm and let the dog bite it; then with the other hand seize the dog's throat and choke him. first aid for injuries general directions keep cool. there is no cause for excitement or hurry. in not one case in a thousand are the few moments necessary to find out what is the matter with an injured man going to result in any harm to him, and of course in order to treat him intelligently you must first know what is the matter. commonsense will tell the scout that he must waste no time, however, when there is severe bleeding, or in case of poisoning. if possible, always send for a doctor, unless the injury is a trivial one. don't wait until he arrives, however, to do something for the injured person. a crowd should always be kept back and tight clothing should be loosened. if the patient's face is pale, place him on his back with his head low. if his face is flushed, fold your coat and put it under his head so as to raise it slightly. in case of vomiting, place the patient on his side. do not give an unconscious person a stimulant, as he cannot swallow, and it will run down his windpipe and choke him. if the injury is covered by clothing, remove it by cutting or tearing, but never remove more clothing than necessary, as one of the results of injury is for a person to feel cold. shoes and boots should be cut in severe injuries about the feet. shock for example, a scout is riding on a trolley-car. the car runs into a loaded wagon. the wagon is overturned and the driver thrown to the pavement. part of the load falls upon his body and when you reach him he is unconscious. so far as you can find out, nothing else is the matter with him. this is called shock. it accompanies all serious injuries and is itself serious, as a person may die without ever recovering from shock. of course, there are different degrees of shock. in severe shock the person is completely unconscious or he may be only slightly confused and feel weak and uncertain of what has happened. in shock always send for a doctor when you can. before he comes, warm and stimulate the patient in every possible way. place him on his back with his head low and cover him with { } your coat or a blanket. rub his arms and legs toward his body but do not uncover him to do this. if you have ammonia or smelling salts, place them before the patient's nose so he may breathe them. this is all you can do when unconsciousness is complete. when the patient begins to recover a little, however, and as soon as he can swallow, give him hot tea or coffee, or a half teaspoonful of aromatic spirits of ammonia in a quarter glass of water. warning: remember always that a person with shock may have some other serious injuries. these you should always look for and treat if necessary. injuries in which the skin is not broken--fractures a fracture is the same thing as a broken bone. when the bone pierces or breaks through the skin, it is called a compound fracture, and when it does not, a simple fracture. [illustration: splints for broken thigh.] a scout is in the country with a comrade. the latter mounts a stone wall to cross it. the wall falls with him and he calls out for help. when the other scout reaches him, he finds the injured scout lying flat on the ground with both legs stretched out. one of these does not look quite natural, and the scout complains of a great deal of pain at the middle of the thigh and thinks he felt something break when he fell. he cannot raise the injured leg. carefully rip the trousers and the underclothing at the seam to above the painful point. when you have done this the deformity will indicate the location of the fracture. you must be very gentle now or you will do harm, but if one hand is put above where you think the { } break occurred and the other below it and it is lifted gently you will find that there is movement at the broken point. [illustration: splints for broken leg.] send for a doctor first, if you can, and, if you expect him to arrive very soon, let your comrade lie where he is, putting his injured leg in the same position as the sound one and holding it there by coats or other articles piled around the leg. but if the doctor cannot be expected for some time, draw the injured limb into position like the sound one and hold it there by splints. splints can be made of anything that is stiff and rigid. something flat like a board is better than a pole or staff; limbs broken off a tree will do if nothing else can be found. shingles make excellent splints. in applying splints remember that they should extend beyond the next joint above and the next joint below; otherwise, movements of the joint will cause movement at the broken point. with a fracture of the thigh, such as that described, the outer splint should be a very long one, extending below the feet from the arm pit. a short one extending just below the knee will do for the inner splint. splints may be tied on with handkerchiefs, pieces of cloth torn from the clothing, or the like. tie firmly but not tight enough to cause severe pain. in a fracture of the thigh it will also be well to bind the injured leg to the sound one by two or three pieces of cloth around both. the clothing put back in place will serve as padding under the splint, but with thin summer clothing it is better to use straw, hay, or leaves in addition. fractures of the lower leg and of the upper and lower arm are treated in the same way with a splint on the inner and outer sides of the broken bone. a sling will be required for a fracture of the arm. this may be made of the triangular bandage, or of a triangular piece of cloth, torn from your shirt. { } the red cross first aid outfit is very convenient to use in fractures as well as in other injuries. the gauze bandage may be used for the strips to tie on the splints and the triangular bandage for an arm sling; or, if a sling is not needed, for strips to fix the splints firmly in place. compound fractures the edges of a broken bone are very sharp and may cut through the skin at the time of an injury, but more often afterward, if the injured person moves about or if the splints are not well applied so as to prevent movement at the point where the bone is broken. if a compound fracture has occurred, the wound produced by the sharp bone must always be treated first. the treatment is the same for any other wound. _warning_: you will not always be able to tell whether or not a fracture has occurred. in this case do not pull and haul the limb about to make sure, but treat as a fracture. there will always be a considerable amount of shock with fracture and this must also be treated. [illustration: splints and sling for fracture of upper arm.] bruises everybody has suffered from a bruise at some time in his life and knows just what it is. a slight bruise needs no treatment. for a severe one, apply very hot or very cold water to prevent pain and swelling. sprains a scout slips and twists his ankle and immediately suffers severe pain, and in a little while the ankle begins to swell. { } the sprained joint should be put in an elevated position and cloths wrung out in very hot or very cold water should be wrapped around it and changed very frequently. movement of any sprained joint is likely to increase the injury, so this ought not to be permitted. walking with a sprained ankle is not only exceedingly painful but it generally increases the hurt. [illustration: triangular sling for arm.] dislocation a dislocation is an injury where the head of a bone has slipped out of its socket at a joint. a scout is playing foot-ball. he suddenly feels as though his shoulder has been twisted out of place. comparison with the other side will show that the injured shoulder does not look like the other one, being longer, or shorter, and contrary to the case with fracture there will not be increased movement at the point of injury but a lessened movement. do not attempt to get a dislocated joint back in place. cover the joint with cloths wrung out in very hot or very cold water, and get the patient into the hands of a doctor as soon as possible. injuries in which the skin is broken such injuries are called wounds. there is one very important fact which must be remembered in connection with such injuries. any injury in which the skin is unbroken is much less dangerous, as the skin prevents germs from reaching the injured part. the principle to be followed in treating a wound is to apply something to prevent germs from reaching the injury. { } all wounds unless protected from germs are very liable to become infected with matter, or pus. blood poisoning and even death may result from infection. to prevent infection of wounds, the scout should cover them promptly with what is called a sterilized dressing. this is a surgical dressing which has been so treated that it is free from germs. a number of dressings are on the market and can be procured in drug stores. in using them, be very careful not to touch the surface of the dressing which is to be placed in contact with the wound. the red cross first aid dressing is so made that this accident is almost impossible. in taking care of a wound, do not handle it or do anything else to it. every one's hands, though they may appear to be perfectly clean, are not so in the sense of being free from germs; nor is water, so a wound should never be washed. [illustration: head bandage.] it will be a good thing for a scout always to carry a red cross first aid outfit, or some similar outfit, for with this he is ready to take care of almost any injury; without it he will find it very difficult to improvise anything to cover a wound with safety to the injured person. if no prepared dressing is procurable, boil a towel if possible for fifteen minutes, squeeze the water out of it without touching the inner surface, and apply that to the wound. the next best dressing, if you cannot prepare this, will be a towel or handkerchief which has been recently washed and has not been used. these should be held in place on the wound with a bandage. do not be afraid to leave a wound exposed to the air; germs do not float around in the air and such exposure is much safer than water or any dressing which is not free from germs. of course you can bind up a { } wound with a towel not boiled or piece of cotton torn from your shirt, but you cannot do so without the liability of a great deal of harm to the injured person. snake bites while snake bites are wounds, the wounds caused by venomous snakes are not important as such but because the venom is quickly absorbed and by its action on the brain may cause speedy death. the rattlesnake and the moccasin are the most dangerous snakes in the united states. in order to prevent absorption of the poison, immediately tie a string, handkerchief, or bandage above the bite. this can only be done in the extremities, but nearly all bites are received on the arms or legs. then soak the wound in hot water and squeeze or suck it to extract the poison. sucking a wound is not dangerous unless one has cuts or scrapes in the mouth. then burn the wound with strong ammonia. this is not aromatic spirits of ammonia, but what is commonly known as strong ammonia in any drug store. aromatic spirits of ammonia should also be given as a stimulant. if you have nothing but a string to tie off the wound, be sure to do that and to get out as much poison as you can by squeezing or sucking the wound. a doctor should of course always be sent for when practicable in any injury as severe as a snake bite. leave your string or bandage in place for an hour. a longer period is unsafe, as cutting off the circulation may cause mortification. loosen the string or bandage after an hour's time, so that a little poison escapes into the body. if the bitten person does not seem to be much affected, repeat at the end of a few moments, and keep this up until the band has been entirely removed. if, however, the bitten person seems to be seriously affected by the poison you have allowed to escape into his body, you must not loosen the bandage again, but leave it in place and take the chance of mortification. wounds without severe bleeding these constitute the majority of all wounds. use the red cross outfit as described in the slip contained in the outfit. the pressure of a bandage will stop ordinary bleeding if firmly bound into place. wounds with severe bleeding a scout must be prepared to check severe bleeding at once, and he should then dress the wound. bleeding from an { } artery is by far the most dangerous. blood coming from a cut artery is bright red in color and flows rapidly in spurts or jets. as the course of the blood in an artery is away from the heart, pressure must be applied on the heart side just as a rubber pipe which is cut must be compressed on the side from which the water is coming in order to prevent leakage at a cut beyond. the scout must also know the course of the larger arteries in order that he may know where to press on them. in the arm the course of the large artery is down the inner side of the big muscle in the upper arm about in line with the seam of the coat. the artery in the leg runs down from the centre of a line from the point of the hip to the middle of the crotch, and is about in line with the inseam of the trousers. pressure should be applied about three inches below the crotch. in making pressure on either of these arteries, use the fingers and press back against the bone. you can often feel the artery beat under your fingers, and the bleeding below will stop when you have your pressure properly made. of course you cannot keep up the pressure with your fingers indefinitely in this way as they will soon become tired and cramped. therefore, while you are doing this have some other scout prepare a tourniquet. the simplest form of tourniquet is a handkerchief tied loosely about the limb. in this handkerchief a smooth stone or a cork should be placed just above your fingers on the artery. when this is in place put a stick about a foot long under the handkerchief at the outer side of the limb and twist around till the stone makes pressure on the artery in the same way that your { } fingers have. tie the stick in position so it will not untwist. [illustration: how to apply first aid dressing.] _warning_: when using a tourniquet remember that cutting off the circulation for a long time is dangerous. it is much safer not to keep on a tourniquet more than an hour. loosen it, but be ready to tighten it again quickly if bleeding re-commences. another method to stop bleeding from an artery when the wound is below the knee or elbow is to place a pad in the bend of the joint and double the limb back over it holding the pad in tightly. tie the arm or leg in this position. if these means do not check the bleeding put a pad into the wound and press on it there. if you have no dressing and blood is being lost very rapidly, make pressure in the wound with your fingers. remember, however, that this should only be resorted to in the case of absolute necessity as it will infect the wound. blood from veins flows in a steady stream back toward the heart and is dark in color. from most veins a pad firmly bandaged on the bleeding point will stop the bleeding. if a vein in the neck is wounded, blood will be lost so rapidly that the injured person is in danger of immediate death, so you must disregard the danger of infection and jam your hand tightly against the bleeding point. keep the patent quiet in all cases of severe bleeding, for even if it is checked it may start up again. do not give any stimulants until the bleeding has been checked unless the patient is very weak. the best stimulant is aromatic spirits of ammonia, one teaspoonful in half a glass of water. [illustration: how to apply tourniquet to upper arm.] { } unconsciousness and poisoning unconsciousness, of course, means lack of consciousness, or, in other words; one who is unconscious knows nothing of his surroundings or of what is happening. a person may, however, be partially, as well as wholly, unconscious. unconsciousness may be due to so many causes that, in order to give the best treatment, the scout should first know the cause. always try to find this out if you can. if you cannot do this, however, you should at least determine whether unconsciousness is due to poison, to bleeding, to sunstroke, or to freezing; for each of these demand immediate, special treatment. if it is not due to one of these causes, and the patient is pale and weak, have him placed with his head low, and warm and stimulate him in every possible way. if the face is red and the pulse is bounding and strong, that patient should have his head raised on a folded coat. no stimulants should be given him and cold water should be sprinkled on his face and chest. the common causes of unconsciousness are shock, electric shock, fainting, apoplexy and injury to the brain, sunstroke and heat exhaustion, freezing, suffocation, and poisoning. the first two have already been described and the treatment of any form of suffocation in artificial respiration. fainting fainting usually occurs in overheated, crowded places. the patient is very pale and partially or completely unconscious. the pupils of the eye are natural, the pulse is weak and rapid. the patient should be placed in a lying-down position with the head lower than the rest of the body so that the brain will receive more blood. loosen the clothing, especially about the neck. keep the crowd back and open the windows if in-doors so that the patient may get plenty of fresh air. sprinkle the face and chest with cold water. apply smelling salts or ammonia to the nose, rub the limbs toward the body. a stimulant may be given when the patient is so far recovered that he is able to swallow. apoplexy and injury to the brain apoplexy and unconsciousness from injury to the brain are due to the pressure of blood on the brain so that they { } may be described together. apoplexy is of course much harder to distinguish than injury to the brain as in the latter the scout can always see that the head has been hurt. with both, unconsciousness will usually be complete. pupils are large and frequently unequal in size, breathing is snoring, and the pulse is usually full and slow. one side of the body will be paralyzed. test this by raising arm or leg; if paralyzed, it will drop absolutely helpless. send for a doctor at once. keep patient quiet and in a dark room if possible. put in lying-down position with head raised by pillows. apply ice or cold cloths to head. no stimulants. drunkenness is sometimes mistaken for apoplexy. if there is any doubt on this point always treat for apoplexy. sunstroke and heat exhaustion anyone is liable to sunstroke or heat exhaustion if exposed to excessive heat. a scout should remember not to expose himself too much to the sun nor should he wear too heavy clothing in the summer. leaves in the hat will do much to prevent sunstroke. if the scout becomes dizzy and exhausted through exposure to the sun he should find a cool place, lie down, and bathe the face, hands, and chest in cold water and drink freely of cold water. sunstroke and heat exhaustion, though due to the same cause, are quite different and require different treatment. in sunstroke unconsciousness is complete. the face is red, pupils large, the skin is very hot and dry with no perspiration. the patient sighs and the pulse is full and slow. the treatment for sunstroke consists in reducing the temperature of the body. a doctor should be summoned whenever possible. the patient should be removed to a cool place and his clothing loosened, or better the greater part of it removed. cold water, or ice, should be rubbed over the face, neck, chest, and in arm pits. when consciousness returns give cold water freely. heat exhaustion is simply exhaustion or collapse due to heat. the patient is greatly depressed and weak but not usually unconscious. face is pale and covered with clammy sweat, breathing and pulse are weak and rigid. while this condition is not nearly as dangerous as sunstroke, a doctor should be summoned if possible. remove the patient to a cool place and have him lie down with his clothing loosened. don't use anything cold { } externally, but permit him to take small sips of cold water. stimulants should be given just as in fainting. freezing the patient should be taken into a cold room and the body should be rubbed with rough cloths wet in cold water. the temperature of the room should be increased if possible. this should be done gradually and the cloths should be wet in warmer and warmer water. as soon as the patient can swallow give him stimulants. it will be dangerous to place him before an open fire or in a hot bath until he begins to recover. you will know this by his skin becoming warmer, by his better color, and by his generally improved appearance. frost-bite remember that you are in danger of frost-bite if you do not wear sufficient clothing in cold weather, and that rubbing any part of the body which becomes very cold helps to prevent frostbite, because it brings more warm blood to the surface. the danger is when, after being cold, the part suddenly has no feeling. the object of the treatment is gradually to restore warmth to the frozen part. to do this the part should be rubbed first with snow or cold water; the water should be warmed gradually. the use of hot water at once would be likely to cause mortification of the frozen part. poisoning for all poisons give an emetic. send for a doctor at once and if possible have the messenger tell what poison has been taken so that the doctor may bring the proper antidote. do not wait for him to arrive, but give an emetic to rid the stomach of the poison. good emetics are mustard and water, salt water, or lukewarm water alone in large quantities. never mind the exact dose and if vomiting is not profuse repeat the dose. fits a person in a fit first has convulsive movements of the body, then he usually becomes unconscious. a scout should have no difficulty in making out what is the matter with a person in a fit. put the sufferer on the floor or the ground where he can not hurt himself by striking anything. loosen tight clothing and do not try to restrain the convulsive movements. a wad of { } cloth thrust in the mouth will prevent biting the tongue. when he becomes quiet do not disturb him. injuries due to heat and cold burns and scalds for slight burns in order to relieve the pain some dressing to exclude the air is needed. very good substances of this character are pastes made with water and baking soda, starch, or flour. carbolized vaseline, olive or castor oil, and fresh lard or cream are all good. one of these substances should be smeared over a thin piece of cloth and placed on the burned part. a bandage should be put on over this to hold the dressing in place and for additional protection. severe burns and scalds are very serious injuries which require treatment from a physician. pending his arrival the scout should remember to treat the sufferer for shock as well as to dress the wound. burns from electricity should be treated exactly like other burns. do not attempt to remove clothing which sticks to a burn; cut the cloth around the part which sticks and leave it on the burn. first aid for emergencies besides the accidents which have been mentioned, certain emergencies may demand treatment by a scout. the commonest of these are described here. something in the eye no little thing causes more pain and discomfort than something in the eye. do not rub to remove a foreign body from the eye, as this is likely to injure the delicate covering of the eyeball. first, close the eye so the tears will accumulate, these may wash the foreign body into plain view so that it may be easily removed. if this fails, pull the upper lid over the lower two or three times, close the nostril on the opposite side and have the patient blow his nose hard. if the foreign body still remains in the eye, examine first under the lower and then the upper lid. for the former have the patient look up, press lower lid down, and if the foreign body is seen lift it out gently with the corner of a clean handkerchief. it is not so easy { } to see the upper lid. seat the patient in a chair with his head bent backward. stand behind him and place a match or thin pencil across the upper lid one half an inch from its edge, turn the upper lid back over the match, and lift the foreign body off as before. a drop of castor oil in the eye after removing the foreign body will soothe it. [illustration: eye bandage.] sunburn this is simply an inflammation of the skin due to action of the sun. it may be prevented by hardening the skin gradually. any toilet powder or boracic acid will protect the skin to a considerable extent. the treatment consists of soothing applications such as ordinary or carbolized vaseline. ivy poisoning poison ivy causes a very intense inflammation of the skin. better avoid, even though it has not harmed you before. baking soda made in a thick paste with water or carbolized vaseline are good remedies. in severe cases a doctor should be consulted. bites and stings ammonia should be immediately applied. wet salt and wet earth are also good applications. nosebleed slight nosebleed does not require treatment as no harm will result from it. when more severe the collar should be { } loosened. do not blow the nose. apply cold to the back of the neck by means of a key or cloth wrung out in cold water. a roll of paper under the upper lip, between it and the gum, will also help. when the bleeding still continues shove a cotton or gauze plug into the nostrils, leaving it there until the bleeding stops. [illustration: position of hands.] [illustration: chair carry.] earache this is likely to result seriously and a doctor should be consulted in order to prevent bad results with possible loss of hearing. hot cloths, a bag of heated salt, or a hot bottle applied to the ear will often cure earache. a few drops of alcohol on a hot cloth so placed that the alcohol fumes enter the ear will often succeed. if neither is effective, heat a few drops of sweet oil as hot as you can stand, put a few drops in the ear and plug with cotton. be careful that it is not too hot. toothache remember that toothache indicates something seriously wrong with the teeth which can only be permanently corrected { } by a dentist. in toothache if you can find a cavity, clean it out with a small piece of cotton or a toothpick. then plug it with cotton, on which a drop of oil of cloves has been put if you have it. if no cavity is found, soak a piece of cotton in camphor and apply it to the outside of the gum. hot cloths and hot bottles or bags will help in toothache, just as they do in earache. inflammation of the eye cover with a cloth wrung out in cold water and change cloths from time to time when they get warm. see a doctor in order to safeguard your sight. cramp or stomachache this is usually due to the irritation produced by undigested food. a hot bottle applied to the stomach or rubbing will often give relief. a little peppermint in hot water and ginger tea are both excellent remedies. the undigested matter should be gotten rid of by vomiting or a cathartic. remember this kind of pain is sometimes due to something serious and if it is very severe or continues for some time, it is much safer to send for a doctor. hiccough this is due to indigestion. holding the breath will often cure, as will also drinking a full glass of water in small sips without taking a breath. if these fail vomiting is an almost certain remedy. [illustration: arm carry.] { } chills in order to stop a chill drink hot milk or hot lemonade and get into bed. plenty of covers should be used, and hot water bottles or hot milk or lemonade help to warm one quickly. [illustration: improvised stretcher.] carrying injured a severely injured person is always best carried on a stretcher. the easiest stretcher for a scout to improvise is the coat stretcher. for this two coats and a pair of poles are needed. the sleeves of the coat are first turned inside out. the coats are then placed on the ground with their lower sides touching each other. the poles are passed through the sleeves on each side, the coats are buttoned up with the button side down. a piece of carpet, a blanket, or sacking can be used in much the same way as the coat, rolling in a portion at each side. shutters and doors make fair stretchers. in order not to jounce the patient in carrying him the bearers should break step. the bearer in front steps off with the left foot and the one in the rear with the right. a number of different methods for carrying a patient by two bearers are practiced. the four-handed { } seat is a very good one. to make this each bearer grasps his left wrist in his right hand, and the other bearer's right wrist in his left hand with the backs of the hands uppermost. the { } bearers then stoop and place the chair under the sitting patient who steadies himself by placing his arms around their necks. [illustration: first position.] [illustration: fireman's lift.] it will sometimes be necessary for one scout to carry an injured comrade. the scout should first turn the patient on his face; he then steps astride his body, facing toward the patient's head, and, with hands under his arm-pits, lifts him to his knees; then, clasping hands over the abdomen, lifts him to his feet; he then, with his left hand, seizes the patient by the left wrist and draws his left arm around his (the bearer's) neck and holds it against his left chest, the patient's left side resting against his body, and supports him with his right arm about the waist. the scout, with his left hand, seizes the right wrist of the patient and draws the arm over his head and down upon his shoulder, then, shifting himself in front, stoops and clasps the right thigh with his right arm passed between the legs, his right hand seizing the patient's right wrist; lastly, the scout, with his left hand, grasps the patient's left hand, and steadies it against his side when he arises. water accidents _wilbert e. longfellow, united states volunteer life saving corps_ the scout's motto, "be prepared," is more than usually applicable to the work of caring for accidents which happen in the water. to save lives, the scout must know first how to swim, to care for himself, and then to learn to carry another and to break the clutch, the "death grip," which we read so much about in the newspaper accounts of drowning accidents. by constant training, a boy, even though not a good swimmer, can be perfectly at home in the water, fully dressed, undressed, or carrying a boy of his own size or larger. in fact two boys of twelve or fourteen years can save a man. swimming for physical development the breast stroke is useful, for it is one that is used in carrying a tired swimmer and is used to go to the bottom for lost articles and to search for a person who has sunk before help has reached him. it is possible, you know, to go to the bottom and bring a body to the surface and swim with it to shore before life is extinct and to restore consciousness by well-directed efforts. the body of an unconscious person weighs little when wholly or partially submerged and { } in salt water weighs less than in fresh water, and is consequently more readily carried. training makes a small boy the equal or superior of an untrained boy much larger and of greater strength, and the way to learn to carry a drowning person is to carry a boy who is not drowning to get used to handling the weights. a little struggle now and then lends realism to the work and increases the skill of the scout candidate for a life saver's rating. speed swimming for itself alone is a very selfish sport so that the scout should develop his ability to make it generally useful to others. [illustration: breast stroke for tired swimmer.] [illustration: under-arm carry.] floating after the breast stroke is learned, floating on the back for rest and swimming on the back, using feet only for propulsion, leaving the hands free to hold a drowning person, should be learned. this can be readily acquired with a little practice, carrying the hands on the surface of the water, arms half bent, with the elbows close to the sides at the waist line. to carry a man this way the hands are placed at either side of the { } drowning man's head and he is towed floating on his back, the rescuer swimming on his back, keeping the other away. it is well to remember to go with the tide or current, and do not wear your strength away opposing it. other ways of carrying are to place the hands beneath the arms of the drowning man, or to grasp him firmly by the biceps from beneath, at the same time using the knee in the middle of his back to get him into a floating position, the feet acting as propellers. methods which enable the rescuer's use of one arm in addition to the feet are known as the "german army" and the "cross shoulder." in the first, the swimmer approaches the drowning person from the back, passes the left arm under the other's left arm, across in front of the chest, and firmly grasps the right arm, either by the biceps or below the elbow, giving him control. this leaves the right arm to swim with. the other one-arm hold mentioned is one in which the rescuer passes an arm over { } the shoulder of the one to be carried, approaching from the back as before, and getting a hold under the other's arm, which makes the drowning man helpless. the breast stroke carry previously mentioned is used only for helping a tired swimmer, and one in possession of his faculties who will not try to grasp the rescuer. the tired swimmer lies on the back and, extending his arms fully in front, rests a hand on either shoulder of the swimmer who rests facing him in the regular breast position allowing the feet of the other to drop between his own. quite good speed can be made in this way, and all of these methods are practical as a trial will show. a little practice will enable the beginner to see which he can do most readily and then he can perfect himself in it for instant use. { } [illustration: swimming on back without hands.] [illustration: head carry-swim on back.] [illustration: break for wrist hold.] [illustration: breaking back strangle hold.] { continue} breaking "death grips" if one uses care in approaching a frightened or drowning person in the water, there will be no use for the release methods; but the best of swimmers get careless at times and all swimmers need to know how to get clear when gripped. wrist grip of these the simplest is the one where the wrists of the swimmer have been grasped by the drowning man in his { } struggles. the swimmer throws both hands above his head which forces both low in the water and then turns the leverage of his arms against the other's thumbs, breaking the hold easily. it should be borne in mind that a drowning man grasps what he can see above the surface of the water, so he will not attempt to grasp his rescuer below the points of the shoulders. remember also that a tall man and a short man would have about the same amount of their body projecting above the surface of the water. [illustration: break for front strangle hold.] neck grip for the grip around the swimmer's neck from the front, for both arms around the shoulders, and for a grip in which the drowning man had the other over one shoulder and under the other arm, the break is much the same. as soon as the rescuer feels the hold, he covers the other's mouth with the palm of his hand, clasping the nostrils tightly between his first two fingers, at the same time pulling the drowning man to him with the left hand in the small of the back, treading water in the meantime. then, taking a full breath, he applies his knee { } in the other's stomach, forcing him to expel the air in his lungs and at the same time preventing him from getting more by pressure on the nostrils and mouth. should the pressure of the grip around the body be too great to allow freedom of the arms, the preliminary move in that case would be to bring both arms to the level of the shoulder, thus sliding the other's arms to the neck, leaving the rescuer's arms to cover the nose. back strangle the back strangle hold is an awkward one to break and one which must be broken without an instant's delay, or the would-be rescuer himself will be in great need of help. in practice it will be found that, by grasping the encircling arms at the wrists and pushing back with the buttocks against the other's abdomen, room to slip out can be obtained. in a life and death struggle, sharper measures are needed, and if the rescuer throws his head suddenly back against the nose of the drowning man, he will secure his freedom very readily and have him under control by the time he has recovered from his dazed condition. rescue from shore or boat it is not always necessary to go into the water to attempt a rescue, and in many cases, when some one has fallen off a bridge or dock, a line or buoy or boat can be used to advantage without placing more lives in danger than the one in the water. discretion in such matters is worthy of recognition rather than too much recklessness in swimming out. use a boat when possible. practice in throwing a life buoy should be indulged in where possible, and a good scout should always leave the line coiled over pegs and the buoy hanging on top to bind it in place for instant use in an emergency. diving from the surface when a bather or victim from a boating accident sinks to the bottom of a river or pond of from seven to twenty feet in depth, prompt rescue methods may bring him to the surface, and resuscitation methods, promptly applied, will restore breath. if there is no current in the pond or lake, bubbles from the body will indicate its whereabouts directly beneath the place where it sank. should there be tide or currents, the bubbles are carried at an angle with the streams and the searcher must go from the spot where the person disappeared and look along { } the bottom going with the current. when a drowning man gives up his struggle and goes down, his body sinks a little way and is brought up again by the buoyancy within it and the air is expelled. it sinks again and next rises less high and air is again expelled. this happens several times until enough water is taken into the stomach and air passages to offset the floating capacity. the floating capacity is barely overcome, so the body weighs but little. it is very simple, as almost any youthful swimmer knows, to go to the bottom if one can dive from a float, pier, or boat, but to be able to dive down ten feet from the surface requires practice. in most cases to go deeper would require a weight after the manner of the southern sponge and pearl fishers. grasp a ten or fifteen pound stone and dive in; to come up the swimmer lets go and rises to the top. [illustration: throwing feet for dive from surface.] diving for lost objects in covering a considerable area in search for bodies or lost objects, several ropes can be anchored with grapnels or rocks in squares and a systematic search thus maintained by divers. going down from the surface is not so simple and the knack is attained by practice, especially by athletic lads. the secret is to swim to a point where a sounding is to be made, and to plunge the head and shoulders under, elevating the hips above the surface to drive the shoulders deep and give chance for a few strokes--breast stroke preferred--until the whole body in a vertical position is headed for the bottom. the elevation of the feet and lower legs in the air gives the body additional { } impetus downward, and when the object is attained a push-off from the bottom with both feet sends the swimmer to the surface in quick order. to carry any weight ashore, it is necessary to carry it low on the body, hugged close to the waist line, allowing one hand and both feet for swimming, or if on the back, hold by both hands using the feet as propellers. [illustration: artificial respiration (a)] [illustration: artificial respiration (b)] restoring breathing knowledge of resuscitation of the apparently drowned is an important part of the equipment of a first-class scout, and a great many lives could have been saved had it been more general. to be effective no time must be lost in getting the apparently drowned person out of the water and getting the { } water out of him. the schaefer or prone method requires but one operator at a time and no waste of time in preliminaries. when taken from the water the patient is laid on the ground face downward, arms extended above the head, face a little to one side, so as not to prevent the free passage of air. the operator kneels astride or beside the prone figure and lets his hands fall into the spaces between the short ribs. by letting the weight of the upper body fall upon his hands resting on the prone man, the air is forced out of the lungs; by relaxing the pressure, the chest cavity enlarges and air is drawn in to take the place of that forced out. by effecting this change of air--pressing and relaxing, twelve to fifteen times a minute (time it by watch at first, and then count) artificial breathing is performed. sometimes it is necessary to work an hour or two before the flicker of an eyelid or a gasp from the patient rewards the life saver's efforts, and then he must carefully "piece in" the breathing until natural breathing is resumed. when breathing starts, then promote circulation by rubbing the legs and body toward the heart. do not attempt to stimulate by the throat until the patient can swallow. give a teaspoonful of aromatic spirits of ammonia, in half a glass of water. _remember that by laying the patient face downward fluids in the air passages will run or be forced out and the tongue will drop forward, and require no holding, always an awkward task_. treatment after respiration begins the after treatment is important. put the patient to bed, keep quiet and warm. always get the services of a physician as soon as possible, but do not wait for him to come. start work instantly. the patient needs oxygen, so keep spectators away. they are robbing the man of the life-giving properties of the air. for this reason, in all but the most severe weather, it is well to work on the patient in the open. life buoys if one is to place a life buoy for instant use in emergencies it should be hung upon four pegs driven into holes in two pieces of wood nailed together in the form of the diameter of a two-foot square or three pegs in strips of wood arranged in the form of a t, about eighteen or twenty inches high, the two pegs at either side of the top bar of the t and the other one on the upright near the bottom. most life buoys used on shore have fifty or seventy-five feet of light line attached to draw the { } rescued person ashore or to recover the buoy after a faulty throw. commencing at the free end of the line, where a small wooden float is often attached, the rope should first be coiled on the pegs, hanging the buoy outside the coil to bind it in place so wind or jars will not loosen it. then, when the buoy is needed, the ring is grasped by the throwing hand which clasps the buoy itself, and the coil is clasped in the free hand, the end of the rope being secured ashore by standing upon it with one foot. after each use or practice the buoy line should be restored to its pegs for instant use. [illustration: life buoy and ice ball/] { } notes { } notes { } chapter viii games and athletic standards the games _by ernest thompson seton, chief scout_ deer hunting the deer hunt has proved one of our most successful games. the deer is a dummy, best made with a wire frame, on which soft hay is wrapped till it is of proper size and shape, then all is covered with open burlap. a few touches of white and black make it very realistic. if time does not admit of a well-finished deer, one can be made of a sack stuffed with hay, decorated at one end with a smaller sack for head and neck, and set on four thin sticks. the side of the deer is marked with a large oval, and over the heart is a smaller one. bows and arrows only are used to shoot this deer. [illustration: wooden legged deer.] a pocketful of corn, peas, or other large grain is now needed for scent. the boy who is the deer for the first hunt takes the dummy under his arm and runs off, getting ten minutes' start, or until he comes back and shouts "ready!" he leaves a trail of corn, dropping two or three grains for every yard and making the trail as crooked as he likes, playing such tricks as a deer would do to baffle his pursuers. then he hides the deer in any place he fancies, but not among rocks or on the top of a ridge, because in one case many arrows would be broken, and in the other, lost. the hunters now hunt for this deer just as for a real deer, either following the trail or watching the woods ahead; the { } best hunters combine the two. if at any time the trail is quite lost the one in charge shouts: "lost trail!" after that the one who finds the trail scores two. anyone giving a false alarm by shouting "deer" is fined five. [illustration: burlap deer, ft. high.] thus they go till some one finds the deer. he shouts: "_deer!_" and scores ten for finding it. the others shout: "_second_," "_third_," etc., in order of seeing it, but they do not score. the finder must shoot at the deer with his bow and arrow from the very spot whence he saw it. if he misses, the second hunter may step up five paces, and have his shot. if he misses, the third one goes five, and so on till some one hits the deer, or until the ten-yard limit is reached. if the finder is within ten yards on sighting the deer, and misses his shot, the other hunters go back to the ten-yard limit. once the deer is hit, all the shooting must be from the exact spot whence the successful shot was fired. a shot in the big oval is a body wound; that scores five. a shot outside that is a scratch; that scores two. a shot in the small oval or heart is a heart wound; it scores ten, and ends the hunt. arrows which do not stick do not count, unless it can be proved that they passed right through, in which case they take the highest score that they pierced. if all the arrows are used, and none in the heart, the deer escapes, and the boy who was deer scores twenty-five. the one who found the dummy is deer for the next hunt. a clever deer can add greatly to the excitement of the game. originally we used paper for scent, but found it bad. it littered the woods; yesterday's trail was confused with that of { } to-day, etc. corn proved better, because the birds and the squirrels kept it cleaned up from day to day, and thus the ground was always ready for a fresh start. but the best of all is the hoof mark for the shoe. these iron hoof marks are fast to a pair of shoes, and leave a trail much like a real deer. this has several advantages. it gives the hunter a chance to tell where the trail doubled, and which way the deer was going, it is more realistic, and the boy who can follow this skillfully can follow a living deer. in actual practice it is found well to use a little corn with this on the hard places, a plan quite consistent with realism, as every hunter will recall. [illustration: shoe with iron hoof. (tr)] it is strictly forbidden to any hunter to stand in front of the firing line; all must be back of the line on which the shooter stands. there is no limit to the situations and curious combinations in this hunt. the deer may be left standing or lying. there is no law why it should not be hidden behind a solid tree trunk. the game develops as one follows it. after it has been played for some time with the iron hoof mark as above, the boys grow so skilful on the trail that we can dispense with even the corn. the iron mark like a deer hoof leaves a very realistic "slot" or track, which the more skilful boys readily follow through the woods. a hunt is usually for three, five, or more deer, according to agreement and the result is reckoned by points on the whole chase. the bear hunt this is played by half a dozen or more boys. each has a club about the size and shape of a baseball club, but made of straw { } tied around two or three switches and tightly sewn up in burlap.--one big fellow is selected for the bear. he has a school bag tightly strapped on his back, and in that a toy balloon fully blown up. this is his heart. on his neck is a bear-claw necklace of wooden beads and claws. (see cut.) [illustration: bear-claw necklace, claw and bead.] he has three dens about one hundred yards apart in a triangle. while in his den the bear is safe. if the den is a tree or rock, he is safe while touching it. he is obliged to come out when the chief hunter counts one hundred, and must go the rounds of the three till the hunt is settled. the object of the hunters is to break the balloon or heart; that is, to kill the bear. he must drop dead when the heart bursts. the hunter who kills him claims the necklace. but the bear also has a club for defence. each hunter must wear a hat, and once the bear knocks a hunter's hat off, that one is dead and out of this hunt. he must drop where his hat falls. [illustration: straw club.] tackling of any kind is forbidden. the bear wins by killing or putting to flight all the hunters. in this case he keeps the necklace. the savageness of these big bears is indescribable. many lives are lost in each hunt, and it has several times happened that the whole party of hunters has been exterminated by some monster of unusual ferocity. this game has also been developed into a play. { } spearing the great sturgeon this water game is exceedingly popular and is especially good for public exhibition, being spectacular and full of amusement and excitement. [illustration: wooden sturgeon.] the outfit needed is: ( ) a sturgeon roughly formed of soft wood; it should be about three feet long and nearly a foot thick at the head. it may be made realistic, or a small log pointed at both ends will serve. ( ) two spears with six-inch steel heads and wooden handles (about three feet long). the points should be sharp, but not the barbs. sometimes the barbs are omitted altogether. each head should have an eye to which is attached twenty feet of one-quarter inch rope. on each rope, six feet from the spearhead, is a fathom mark made by tying on a rag or cord. ( ) two boats with crews. each crew consists of a spearman, who is captain, and one or two oarsmen or paddlers, of whom the after one is the pilot. all should be expert swimmers or else wear life-belts during the game. [illustration: spearhead.] the game.--each boat has a base or harbor; this is usually part of the shore opposite that of the enemy; or it obviates all danger of collision if the boats start from the same side. the sturgeon is left by the referee's canoe at a point midway between the bases. at the word "go!" each boat leaves its base and, making for the sturgeon, tries to spear it, then drag it by the line to his base. when both get their spears into it the contest becomes a tug of war until one of the spears pulls out. { } the sturgeon is landed when the prow of the boat that has it in tow touches its proper base, even though the spear of the enemy is then in the fish: or it is landed when the fish itself touches base. the boats change bases after each heat. matches are usually for one, three, or five sturgeon. points are counted only for the landing of the fish, but the referee may give the decision on a foul or a succession of fouls, or the delinquent may be set back one or more boat lengths. sometimes the game is played in canoes or boats, with one man as spearman and crew. _rules_.--it is _not allowable_ to push the sturgeon into a new position with the spear or paddle before striking. it is _allowable_ to pull the sturgeon under the boat or pass it around by using the line after spearing. it is _allowable_ to lay hands on the other boat to prevent a collision, but otherwise it is forbidden to touch the other boat or crew or paddle or spear or line, or to lay hands on the fish, or to touch it with the paddle or oar, or touch your own spear while it is in the fish, or to tie the line around the fish except so far as this may be accidentally done in spearing. it is _allowable_ to dislodge the enemy's spear by throwing your own over it. the purpose of the barbs is to assist in this. it is _allowable_ to run on to the sturgeon with the boat. _it is absolutely forbidden to throw the spear over the other boat or over the heads of your crew_. in towing the sturgeon the fathom mark must be over the gunwale--at least six feet of line should be out when the fish is in tow. it is not a foul to have less, but the spearman must at once let it out if the umpire or the other crew cries "fathom!" the spearman is allowed to drop the spear and use the paddle or oar at will, but not to resign his spear to another of the crew. the spearman must be in his boat when the spear is thrown. if the boat is upset the referee's canoe helps them to right. each crew must accept the backset of its accidents. tilting in the water for this we usually have two boats or war canoes manned by four men each. these are a spearman, who is also a captain, a pilot, and two oarsmen. the spearman is armed with a light pole or bamboo eight or ten feet long, with a soft pad on the end. sometimes this is { } further provided with a hook. this is a forked branch with limbs a foot long; one is lashed to the bamboo, the other projecting out a foot, and slightly backward. the end of the spear and the fork are now thoroughly padded with burlap to the shape of a duck's head and bill. and it must be cased in waterproof, to keep it from getting wet and heavy. the object of the hook is to change suddenly from pushing, and to pull the enemy by hooking round his neck. each boat should have a quarter-deck or raised platform at one end, on which the spearman stands. [illustration: tilting spear.] the battle is fought in rounds and by points. to put your opponent back into the canoe with one foot counts you five; two feet, ten. if he loses his spear you count five (excepting when he is put overboard). if you put him down on one knee on the fighting deck, you count five; two knees, ten. if you put him overboard it counts twenty-five. one hundred points is a round. a battle is for one or more rounds, as agreed on. it is forbidden to hook or strike below the belt. the umpire may dock for fouls. canoe tag any number of canoes or boats may engage in this. a rubber cushion, a hot-water bag full of air, any rubber football, { } or a cotton bag with a lot of corks in it is needed. the game is to tag the other canoe by throwing this into it. the rules are as in ordinary cross-tag. scouting scouts are sent out in pairs or singly. a number of points are marked on the map at equal distances from camp, and the scouts draw straws to see where each goes. if one place is obviously hard, the scout is allowed a fair number of points as handicap. all set out at same time, go direct, and return as soon as possible. points are thus allowed: last back, zero for travelling. the others count one for each minute they are ahead of the last. points up to one hundred are allowed for their story on return. sometimes we allow ten points for each turtle they have seen; ten for each owl seen and properly named; five for each hawk, and one each for other wild birds; also two for a cat one for a dog. no information is given the scout; he is told to go to such a point and do so and so, but is fined points if he hesitates or asks how or why, etc. [illustration: quicksight game.] the game of quicksight make two boards about a foot square, divide each into twenty-five squares; get ten nuts and ten pebbles. give to one player one board, five nuts, and five pebbles. he places { } these on the squares in any pattern he fancies, and when ready the other player is allowed to see it for five seconds. then it is covered up, and from the memory of what he saw the second player must reproduce the pattern on his own board. he counts one for each that was right, and takes off one for each that was wrong. they take turn and turn about. this game is a wonderful developer of the power to see and memorize quickly. [illustration: farsight game.] farsight, or spot the rabbit take two six-inch squares of stiff white pasteboard or whitened wood. on each of these draw an outline rabbit, one an exact duplicate of the other. make twenty round black wafers or spots, each half an inch across. let one player stick a few of these on one rabbit-board and set it up in full light. the other, beginning at one hundred yards, draws near till he can see the spots well enough to reproduce the pattern on the other which he carries. if he can do it at seventy-five yards he has wonderful eyes. down even to seventy (done three times out of five), he counts high honor; from seventy to sixty counts honor. below that does not count at all. pole-star each competitor is given a long straight stick in daytime, and told to lay it due north and south. in doing this he may guide himself by sun, moss, or anything he can find in nature--anything, indeed, except a compass. { } the direction is checked by a good compass corrected for the locality. the one who comes nearest wins. it is optional with the judges whether the use of a timepiece is to be allowed. rabbit hunt the game of rabbit hunting is suited for two hunters in limited grounds. three little sacks of brown burlap, each about eight inches by twelve, are stuffed with hay. at any given place in the woods the two hunters stand in a ten-foot circle with their bows and arrows. one boy is blindfolded; the other, without leaving the circle, throws the rabbits into good hiding places on the ground. then the second hunter has to find the rabbits and shoot them without leaving the circle. the lowest number of points wins, as in golf. if the hunter has to leave the circle he gets one point for every step he takes outside. after he sees the rabbit he must keep to that spot and shoot till it is hit once. one shot kills it, no matter where struck. for every shot he misses he gets five points. after his first shot at each rabbit the hider takes alternate shots with him. if it is the hider who kills the rabbit, the hunter adds ten points to his score. if the hunter hits it, he takes ten off his score. if the hunter fails to find all the rabbits, he scores twenty-five for each one he gives up. the hider cannot score at all. he can only help his friend into trouble. next time the two change places. a match is usually for two brace of rabbits. hostile spy hanging from the totem pole is a red or yellow horse-tail. this is the grand medicine scalp of the band. the hostile spy has to steal it. the leader goes around on the morning of the day and whispers to the various braves, "look out--there's a spy in camp." at length he gets secretly near the one he has selected for spy and whispers, "look out, there's a spy in camp, and you are it." he gives him at the same time some bright-coloured badge, that he must wear as soon as he has secured the medicine scalp. he must not hide the scalp on his person, but keep it in view. he has all day till sunset { } to get away with it. if he gets across the river or other limit, with warriors in close pursuit, they give him ten arrow heads (two and one half cents each), or other ransom agreed on. if he gets away safely and hides it, he can come back and claim fifteen arrow heads from the council as ransom for the scalp. if he is caught, he pays his captor ten arrow heads ransom for his life. the man-hunt this is played with a scout and ten or more hostiles, or hounds, according to the country, more when it is rough or wooded. the scout is given a letter addressed to the "military commandant" (usually the lady of the house that he gets to) of any given place a mile or two away. he is told to take the letter to anyone of three given houses, and get it endorsed, with the hour when he arrived, then return to the starting-point within a certain time. the hostiles are sent to a point half-way, and let go by a starter at the same time as the scout leaves the camp. they are to intercept him. if they catch him before he delivers the letter he must ransom his life by paying each two arrow heads (or other forfeit) and his captor keeps the letter as a trophy. if he gets through, but is caught on the road back, he pays half as much for his life. if he gets through, but is over time, it is a draw. if he gets through successfully on time he claims three arrow heads from each hostile and keeps the letter as a trophy. they may not follow him into the house (that is, the fort), but may surround it at one hundred yards distance. they do not know which three houses he is free to enter, but they do know that these are within certain limits. the scout should wear a conspicuous badge (hat, shirt, coat, or feather), and may ride a wheel or go in a wagon, etc., as long as his badge is clearly visible. to "tag" the scout is not to capture. "the blockade to be binding must be effectual." hunt the coon this is an in-door game, founded on the familiar "hunt the thimble." we use a little dummy coon; either make it or turn a ready-made toy rabbit into one by adding tail and black mask, and cropping the ears. { } all the players but one go out of the room. that one places the coon anywhere in sight, high or low, but in plain view; all come in and seek. the first to find it, sits down silently, and scores one. each sits down, on seeing it, giving no clue to the others. the first to score three coons is winner, usually. sometimes we play till everyone but one has a coon; that one is the booby. the others are first, second, etc. sometimes each is given his number in order of finding it. then, after seven or eight coons, these numbers are added up, and the lowest is winner. if no coon is available use a thimble. spear fights this is an in-door game with out-door weapons. the soft-headed, eight foot spears of the tilting-match are used. the contestants stand on barrels eight feet apart. each tries to put the other off his barrel. it is well to have a catcher behind each player to save him if he falls. games are for seven, eleven, or thirteen points. navajo feather dance an eagle feather hung on a horse-hair, so as to stand upright, is worked by a hidden operator, so as to dance and caper. the dancer has to imitate all its motions. a marionette may be used. it is a great fun-maker. feather football or feather blow this is an in-door, wet-weather game. the players hold a blanket on the knees or on the table. a soft feather is put in the middle. as many may play as can get near. they may be in sides, two or four or each for himself. at the signal, "go!" each tries to blow the feather off the blanket at the enemy's side, and so count one for himself. a game is usually best out of seven, eleven, or thirteen. cock-fighting get two stout sticks, each two feet long (broomsticks will do). pad each of these on the end with a ball of rag. these are the spurs. make an eight-foot ring. the two rivals are on their hunkers, each with a stick through behind his knees, his hands clasped in front of the knees, and the arms under the ends of the spurs. { } now they close; each aiming to upset the other, to make him lose his spurs, or to put him out of the ring, any of which ends that round and scores one for the victor. if both fall, or lose a spur, or go out together, it is a draw. battle is for seven, eleven, or thirteen rounds. hand-wrestling this is a jiujitsu game, introduced by dr. l. h. gulick. the two contestants stand right toe to right toe, each right hand clasped, left feet braced, left hand free. at the word, "go!" each tries to unbalance the other: that is, make him lift or move one of his feet. a lift or a shift ends the round. battles are for best out of five, seven, eleven, or thirteen rounds. badger-pulling the two contestants, on hands and knees, face each other. a strong belt or strap is buckled into one great loop that passes round the head of each: that is, crosses his nape. half-way between them is a dead line. the one who pulls the other over this line is winner. the contestant can at any time end the bout by lowering his head so the strap slips off; but this counts one against him. game is best out of five, seven, eleven, or thirteen points. poison this is an ancient game. a circle about three feet across is drawn on the ground. the players, holding hands, make a ring around this, and try to make one of the number step into the poison circle. he can evade it by side-stepping, by jumping over, or by dragging another fellow into it. first to make the misstep is "it" for the time or for next game. hat-ball when i was among the chepewyan indians of great slave lake, in , i made myself popular with the young men, as well as boys, by teaching them the old game of hat-ball. the players (about a dozen) put their hats in a row near a house, fence, or log (hollows up). a dead line is drawn ten feet from the hats; all must stand outside of that. the one who is "it" begins by throwing a soft ball into one of the hats. if he misses the hat, a chip is put into his own, and he tries over. as soon as he drops the ball into a hat, the owner runs { } to get the ball; all the rest run away. the owner must not follow beyond the dead line, but must throw the ball at some one. if he hits him, a chip goes into that person's hat; if not, a chip goes into his own. as soon as some one has five chips, he wins the booby prize: that is, he must hold his hand out steady against the wall, and each player has five shots at it with the ball, as he stands on the dead line. duck-on-a-rock this is a good old grandfather game. each player has a large, smooth, roundish stone, about five or six inches through. this is his duck. he keeps it permanently. toe rock is any low bowlder, block, stump, bump, or hillock on level ground. a dead line is drawn through the rock, and another parallel, fifteen feet away, for a firing line. the fellow who is "it," or "keeper," perches his duck on the rock. the others stand at the firing line and throw their ducks at his. they must not pick them up or touch them with their hands when they are beyond the dead line. if one does, then the keeper can tag him (unless he reaches the firing line), and send him to do duty as keeper at the rock. but they can coax their ducks with their feet, up to the dead line, not beyond, then watch for a chance to dodge back to the firing line, where they are safe at all times. if the duck is knocked off by anyone in fair firing, the keeper is powerless till he has replaced it. meantime, most of the players have secured their ducks and got back safely to the firing line. road-side cribbage this is a game we often play in the train, to pass the time pleasantly. sometimes one party takes the right side of the road, with the windows there, and the other the left. sometimes all players sit on the same side. the game is, whoever is first to see certain things agreed on scores so many points. thus: a crow or a cow counts a cat a hawk an owl a sheep a goat a horse { } the winner is the one who first gets twenty-five or fifty points, as agreed. when afoot, one naturally takes other things for points, as certain trees, flowers, etc. lion hunting (the games from lion hunting to hare and hounds are from general baden-powell.) a lion is represented by one scout, who goes out with tracking irons on his feet, and a pocketful of corn or peas, and six lawn-tennis balls or rag balls. he is allowed half an hour's start, and then the patrol go after him, following his spoor, each armed with one tennis ball with which to shoot him when they find him. the lion may hide or creep about or run, just as he feels inclined, but whenever the ground is hard or very greasy he must drop a few grains of corn every few yards to show the trail. if the hunters fail to come up to him neither wins the game. when they come near to his lair the lion fires at them with his tennis balls, and the moment a hunter is hit he must fall out dead and cannot throw his tennis ball. if the lion gets hit by a hunter's tennis ball he is wounded, and if he gets wounded three times he is killed. tennis balls may only be fired once; they cannot be picked up and fired again in the same fight. each scout must collect and hand in his tennis balls after the game. in winter, if there is snow, this game can be played without tracking irons, and using snowballs instead of tennis balls. plant race start off your scouts, either cycling or on foot, to go in any direction they like, to get a specimen of any ordered plant, say a sprig of yew, a shoot of ilex, a horseshoe mark from a chestnut tree, a briar rose, or something of that kind, whichever you may order, such as will tax their knowledge of plants and will test their memory as to where they noticed one of the kind required and will also make them quick in getting there and back. throwing the assegai target, a thin sack, lightly stuffed with straw, or a sheet of card-board, or canvas stretched on a frame. assegais to be made of wands, with weighted ends sharpened or with iron arrow heads on them. { } flag raiding two or more patrols on each side. each side will form an outpost within a given tract of country to protect three flags (or at night three lanterns two feet above ground), planted not less than two hundred yards (one hundred yards at night) from it. the protecting outpost will be posted in concealment either all together or spread out in pairs. it will then send out scouts to discover the enemy's position. when these have found out where the outpost is, they try to creep round out of sight till they can get to the flags and bring them away to their own line. one scout may not take away more than one flag. this is the general position of a patrol on such an outpost: pair of scouts pair of scouts pair of scouts patrol leader p. p. p. flags any scout coming within fifty yards of a stronger party will be put out of action if seen by the enemy; if he can creep by without being seen it is all right. scouts posted to watch as outposts cannot move from their ground, but their strength counts as double, and they may send single messages to their neighbors or to their own scouting party. an umpire should be with each outpost and with each scouting patrol. at a given hour operations will cease, and all will assemble at the given spot to hand in their reports. the following points might be awarded: for each flag or lamp captured and brought in-- for each report or sketch of the position of the enemy's outposts up to five-- for each report of movement of enemy's scouting patrols-- the side which makes the biggest total wins. the same game may be played to test the scouts in stepping lightly--the umpire being blindfolded. the practice should preferably be carried out where there are dry twigs lying about, and gravel, etc. the scout may start to stalk the blind enemy at one hundred yards' distance, and he must do it fairly fast--say, in one minute and a half--to touch the blind man before he hears him. { } stalking and reporting the umpire places himself out in the open and sends each scout or pair of scouts away in different directions about half a mile off. when he waves a flag, which is the signal to begin, they all hide, and then proceed to stalk him, creeping up and watching all he does. when he waves the flag again, they rise, come in, and report each in turn all that he did, either by handing in a written report or verbally, as may be ordered. the umpire meantime has kept a lookout in each direction, and, every time he sees a scout he takes two points off that scout's score. he, on his part, performs small actions, such as sitting down, kneeling, looking through glasses, using handkerchief, taking hat off for a bit, walking round in a circle a few times, to give scouts something to note and report about him. scouts are given three points for each act reported correctly. it saves time if the umpire makes out a scoring card beforehand, giving the name of each scout, and a number of columns showing each act of his, and what mark that scout wins, also a column of deducted marks for exposing themselves. spider and fly a bit of country or section of the town about a mile square is selected as the web, and its boundaries described, and an hour fixed at which operations are to cease. one patrol (or half-patrol) is the "spider," which goes out and selects a place to hide itself. the other patrol (or half-patrol) go a quarter of an hour later as the "fly" to look for the "spider." they can spread themselves about as they like, but must tell their leader anything that they discover. an umpire goes with each party. if within the given time (say, about two hours) the fly has not discovered the spider, the spider wins. the spiders write down the names of any of the fly patrol that they may see. stalking instructor acts as a deer--not hiding, but standing, moving a little now and then if he likes. scouts go out to find, and each in his own way tries to get up to him unseen. directly the instructor sees a scout, he directs him to stand up as having failed. after a certain time the instructor calls { } "time," all stand up at the spot which they have reached, and the nearest wins. _demonstrate the value of adapting color of clothes to background by sending out one boy about five hundred yards to stand against different backgrounds in turn, till he gets one similar in color to his own clothes._ _the rest of the patrol to watch and to notice how invisible he becomes when he gets a suitable background. e. g., a boy in a gray suit standing in front of dark bushes, etc., is quite visible but becomes less so if he stands in front of a gray rock or house; a boy in a dark suit is very visible in a green field, but not when lie stands in an open door-way against dark interior shadow_. scout hunting one scout is given time to go out and hide himself, the remainder then start to find him; he wins if he is not found, or if he can get back to the starting point within a given time without being touched. relay race one patrol pitted against another to see who can get a message sent a long distance in shortest time by means of relays of runners (or cyclists). the patrol is ordered out to send in three successive notes or tokens (such as sprigs of certain plants), from a point, say, two miles distant or more. the leader in taking his patrol out to the spot drops scouts at convenient distances, who will then act as runners from one post to the next and back. if relays are posted in pairs, messages can be passed both ways. track memory make a patrol sit with their feet up, so that other scouts can study them. give the scouts, say, three minutes to study the boots. then leaving the scouts in a room or out of sight, let one of the patrol make some footmarks in a good bit of ground. call up the scouts one by one and let them see the track and say who made it. spot the thief get a stranger to make a track unseen by the scouts. the scouts study his track so as to know it again. then put the stranger among eight or ten others and let them all make their tracks for the boys to see, going by in rotation. each scout then in turn whispers to the umpire which man, { } made the original track--describing him by his number in filing past. the scout who answers correctly wins; if more than one answers correctly, the one who then draws the best diagram, from memory, of the footprint wins. smugglers over the border the "border" is a certain line of country about four hundred yards long, preferably a road or wide path or bit of sand, on which foot tracks can easily be seen. one patrol watches the border with sentries posted along this road, with a reserve posted farther inland. this latter about half-way between the "border" and the "town"; the "town" would be a base marked by a tree, building, or flags, etc., about half a mile distant from the border. a hostile patrol of smugglers assemble about half a mile on the other side of the border. they will all cross the border, in any formation they please, either singly or together or scattered, and make for the town, either walking or running, or at scouts' pace. only one among them is supposed to be smuggling, and he wears tracking irons, so that the sentries walk up and down their beat (they may not run till after the "alarm"), waiting for the tracks of the smuggler. directly a sentry sees the track, he gives the alarm signal to the reserve and starts himself to follow up the track as fast as he can. the reserves thereupon cooperate with him and try to catch the smuggler before he can reach the town. once within the boundary of the town he is safe and wins the game. shop window out-doors in town umpire takes a patrol down a street past six shops, gives them half a minute at each shop, then, after moving them off to some distance, he gives each boy a pencil and card, and tells him to write from memory, or himself takes down, what they noticed in, say, the third and fifth shops. the one who sets down most articles correctly wins. it is useful practice to match one boy against another in heats--the loser competing again, till you arrive at the worst. this gives the worst scouts the most practice. similar game in-doors send each scout in turn into a room for half a minute; when he comes out take down a list of furniture and articles which he notices. the boy who notices most wins. { } the simplest way of scoring is to make a list of the articles in the room on your scoring paper with a column for marks for each scout against them, which can then easily be totalled up at foot. follow the trail send out a "hare," either walking or cycling, with a pocketful of corn, nutshells, confetti paper, or buttons, etc., and drop a few here and there to give a trail for the patrol to follow. or go out with a piece of chalk and draw the patrol sign on walls, gate posts, pavements, lamp posts, trees, etc., every here and there, and let the patrol hunt you by these marks. patrols should wipe out all these marks as they pass them for tidiness, and so as not to mislead them for another day's practice. the other road signs should also be used, such as closing up certain roads as not used, and hiding a letter at some point, giving directions as to the next turn. scout's nose in-doors prepare a number of paper bags, all alike, and put in each a different smelling article, such as chopped onion in one, tan in another, rose leaves, leather, anise-seed, violet powder, orange peel, etc. put these packets in a row a couple of feet apart, and let each competitor walk down the line and have five seconds sniff at each. at the end he has one minute in which to write down or to state to the umpire the names of the different objects smelled, from memory, in their correct order. scout meets scout in town or country single scouts, or complete patrols or pairs of scouts, to be taken out about two miles apart, and made to work toward each other, either alongside a road, or by giving each side a landmark to work to, such as a steep hill or big tree, which is directly behind the other party, and will thus insure their coming together. the patrol which first sees the other wins. this is signified by the patrol leader holding up his patrol flag for the umpire to see, and sounding his whistle. a patrol need not keep together, but that patrol wins which first holds out its flag, so it is well for the scouts to be in touch with their patrol leaders by signal, voice, or message. scouts may employ any ruse they like, such as climbing into trees, hiding in carts, etc., but they must not dress up in disguise. this may also be practised at night. { } shoot out two patrols compete. targets: bottles or bricks set up on end to represent the opposing patrol. both patrols are drawn up in line at about twenty to twenty-five yards from the targets. at the word "fire," they throw stones at the targets. directly a target falls, the umpire directs the corresponding man of the other patrol to sit down--killed. the game goes on, if there are plenty of stones, till the whole of one patrol is killed. or a certain number of stones can be given to each patrol, or a certain time limit, say one minute. kim's game place about twenty or thirty small articles on a tray, or on the table or floor, such as two or three different kinds of buttons, pencils, corks, rags, nuts, stones, knives, string, photos--anything you can find--and cover them over with a cloth or coat. make a list of these, and make a column opposite the list for each boy's replies. then uncover the articles for one minute by your watch, or while you count sixty at the rate of "quick march." then cover them over again. take each boy separately and let him whisper to you each of the articles that he can remember, and mark it off on your scoring sheet. the boy who remembers the greatest number wins the game. morgan's game scouts are ordered to run to a certain boarding, where an umpire is already posted to time them. they are each allowed to look at this for one minute, and then to run back to headquarters and report to the instructor all that was on the boarding in the way of advertisements. snow fort the snow fort may be built by one patrol according to their own ideas of fortification, with loopholes, etc., for looking out. when finished, it will be attacked by hostile patrols, using snowballs as ammunition. every scout struck by a snowball is counted dead. the attackers should, as a rule, number at least twice the strength of the defenders. { } siberian man hunt one scout as fugitive runs away across the snow in any direction he may please until he finds a good hiding place, and there conceals himself. the remainder, after giving him twenty minutes' start or more, proceed to follow him by his tracks. as they approach his hiding place, he shoots at them with snowballs, and every one that is struck must fall out dead. the fugitive must be struck three times before he is counted dead. hare and hounds two or more persons representing the hares, and provided with a large quantity of corn, are given a start of several minutes and run a certain length of time, then return by another route to the starting point, all the time scattering corn in their path. after the lapse of the number of minutes' handicap given the hares, those representing the hounds start in pursuit, following by the corn and trying to catch the hares before they reach the starting-point in returning. the handicap given the hares should be small, depending on the running abilities of the hares and hounds. the fastest runners are usually picked for the hounds. chalk the arrow this is usually played in the city streets, one player running and trying to keep out of sight of the others who follow. the runner is given time to disappear around the first corner before the others start after him, and at every corner he turns he marks (with chalk) an arrow pointing in the direction he takes. those pursuing follow by the arrow, the first one seeing him being the runner for the next time. this may also be played by having any number run and only one follow, the first becoming "it" for the next time. dodge ball of any number of players, half of that number form a circle, while the other half stand inside of the ring (centre) facing outward. now, the game for those in the centre is to dodge the ball which is thrown by any of those forming the circle with the intention of striking the centre ones { } out. every time a member is struck he is dead, and takes his place among those of the circle. now he has a chance to throw at those remaining in the centre. this arrangement keeps all taking part busy. only one is out at a time. this being kept up until finally only one is left. he is hailed the king. for next round, players exchange places, i. e., those who were in the centre now form the circle. note: if the touch is preceded by a bound of the ball it does not count. prisoner's base goals are marked off at both ends of the playground, the players divided into two equal divisions, occupying the two goals. about ten paces to the right of each goal is a prison. a player advances toward the opposite goal, when one from that goal starts out to catch him. he retreats, and one from his side runs to his rescue by trying to catch the pursuer--who in turn is succored by one from his side, and so on. every player may catch anyone from the opposite side who has been out of goal longer than he has. any player caught is conducted to the prison by his captor and must remain there until rescued by some one from his side, who touches him with the hand. the one who does this is subject to being caught like any other player. throwing the spear the game is an old greek and persian pastime. "throw the spear and speak the truth," was a national maxim of the persians that we may copy with advantage. the apparatus required is some light spears and an archery target. the spears should vary from five to six feet in length; the point should be shod with a steel tip, having a socket into which the wooden handle is fitted, and made fast by small screws passing through holes in the sides of the metal, and then into the wood itself. the wood, for about a foot above the barb, should be about three quarters of an inch in diameter, and from thence gradually taper to about a quarter of an inch in thickness until the end of the spear is reached. some spears are fitted with feathers, like an arrow, but these are not necessary to obtain a good throw, and soon get dismantled in continually falling upon the ground. any ordinary target will serve. it may be an archery target, a sack full of straw, or a sod bank. { } the object of the contest is to hit the target from a given mark, the firing line. whoever throws nearest to the centre of the target the greatest number of times out of six shots is hailed the winner. the best form for throwing is with the left foot forward, the leg perfectly straight, body well back, its weight resting on the right leg. now extend the left arm forward, in a line with the shoulder, and over the left leg; poise the spear horizontally in the right hand, holding at the centre of gravity by the forefinger and thumb. bring the right arm backward until the hand is behind the right shoulder. now, inclining the point of the spear slightly upward, make your cast, bringing the right arm forward, followed by the right side of the body, the right leg forward and the left arm backward. count yourself fortunate if you even hit the target in the first few attempts, but practice will make a wonderful difference. the distance should be mutually agreed upon, but fifty feet for a boy of fifteen and one hundred feet for an adult will be found about right. to "throw the javelin" is another phase of this pastime. the javelin is four to five feet in length, three quarters of an inch in thickness, and fitted with a barbed end, slightly heavier than the spear end. the "object of the game" is to throw the javelin as far as possible but not at a target; instead, the javelin must stick into the ground. in throwing the javelin, hold it in the right hand, the left leg and hand being advanced; the barb and arm at this point should be at the rear. then, describing a semicircle with the arm over the right shoulder, and leaning well to the rear, hurl the weapon as far as possible forward. arctic expedition each patrol make a bob sleigh with ropes, harness, for two of their number to pull or for dogs if they have them and can train them to do the work. two scouts or so go a mile or two ahead, the remainder with the sleigh follow, finding the way by means of the spoor, and by such signs as the leading scouts may draw in the snow. all other drawings seen on the way are to be examined, noted, and their meaning read. the sleigh carries rations and cooking pots, etc. build snow huts. these must be made narrow, according to the length of the sticks available for forming the roof, which can be made with brushwood and covered with snow. { } dragging race a line of patients from one patrol is laid out fifty feet distant from the start. another patrol, each carrying a rope, run out, tie ropes to the patients, and drag them in. time taken of last in. patrols change places. the one which completes in the shortest time wins. knots must be carefully tied, and patients' coats laid out under their heads. far and near umpire goes along a given road or line of country with a patrol in patrol formation. he carries a scoring card with the name of each scout on it. each scout looks out for the details required, and directly he notices one he runs to the umpire and informs him or hands in the article, if it is an article he finds. the umpire enters a mark accordingly against his name. the scout who gains the most marks in the walk wins. details like the following should be chosen to develop the scout's observation and to encourage him to look far and near, up and down, etc. the details should be varied every time the game is played; and about eight or ten should be given at a time. every match found point every button found point bird tracks points patch noticed on stranger's clothing or boots points gray horse seen points pigeon flying points sparrow sitting points ash tree points broken chimney-pot points broken window point fire-lighting race to collect material, build, and light a fire till the log given by umpire is alight. follow my leader with a large number of boys this can be made a very effective display, and is easy to do at a jog trot, and occasional "knee-up" with musical accompaniment. it also can be done at night, { } each boy carrying a chinese lantern on top of his staff. if in a building all lights, of course, would be turned down. a usual fault is that the exercise is kept on too long, till it wearies both audience and performers. games in path-finding instructor takes a patrol in patrolling formation into a strange town or into an intricate piece of strange country, with a cycling map. he then gives instructions as to where he wants to go, makes each scout in turn lead the patrol, say, for seven minutes if cycling, fifteen minutes if walking. this scout is to find the way entirely by the map, and points are given for ability in reading. mountain scouting this has been played by tourists' clubs in the lake district, and is very similar to the "spider and fly" game. three hares are sent out at daybreak to hide themselves about in the mountains: after breakfast a party of hounds go out to find them before a certain hour, say o'clock p.m. if they find them even with field-glasses, it counts, provided that the finder can say definitely who it was he spotted. certain limits of ground must be given, beyond which anyone would be out of bounds, and therefore disqualified. knight errantry scouts go out singly, or in pairs, or as a patrol. if in a town, to find women or children in want of help, and to return and report, on their honor, what they have done. if in the country, call at any farms or cottages and ask to do odd jobs--for nothing. the same can be made into a race called a "good turn" race. unprepared plays give the plot of a short, simple, play and assign to each player his part, with an outline of what he has to do and say, and then let them act it, making up the required conversation as they go along. this develops the power of imagination and expression on points kept in the mind, and is a valuable means of education. it is well before starting to act a play in this way to be a little less ambitious, and to make two or three players merely { } carry out a conversation on given topics leading up to a given point, using their own words and imaginations in doing so. the treasure hunt the treasure hunt needs observation and skill in tracking, and practically any number can take part in it. several ways of playing the game are given below. . the treasure is hidden and the scouts know what the treasure is; they are given the first clew, and from this all the others can be traced. such clews might be (a) written on a gate post: "go west and examine third gate on north side of stream"; (b) on that gate, scout's sign pointing to notice board on which is written, "strike south by south-east telegraph post, no. ," and so on. the clews should be so worded as to need some skill to understand, and the various points should be difficult of access from one another. this method might be used as a patrol competition, starting off patrols at ten-minute intervals, and at one particular clew there might be different orders for each patrol, to prevent the patrols behind from following the first. . the clews may be bits of colored wood tied to gates, hedges, etc., at about three-yard intervals, leading in a certain direction, and when these clews come to the end it should be known that the treasure is hidden within so many feet. to prevent this degenerating into a mere game of follow my leader, several tracks might be laid working up to the same point, and false tracks could be laid, which only lead back again to the original. . each competitor or patrol might be given a description of the way--each perhaps of a slightly different way; the description should make it necessary to go to each spot in turn; and prevent any "cutting" in the following way: "go to the tallest tree in a certain field, from there go one hundred yards north, and then walk straight toward a church tower which will be on your left," etc. all the descriptions should lead by an equal journey to a certain spot where the treasure is hidden. the first to arrive at that spot should not let the others know it is the spot, but should search for the treasure in as casual a manner as possible. will-o'-the-wisp this game should take place across country at night. two scouts set off in a given direction with a lighted bull's-eye { } lantern. after two minutes have passed the patrol or troop starts in pursuit. the lantern bearer must show his light at least every minute concealing it for the rest of the time. the two scouts take turns in carrying the light, and so may relieve each other in difficulties, but either may be captured. the scout without the light can often mingle with the pursuers without being recognized and relieve his friend when he is being hard pressed. they should arrange certain calls or signals between themselves. treasure island a treasure is known to be hidden upon a certain island or bit of shore marked off, and the man who hid it leaves a map with clews for finding it (compass, directions, tide marks, etc.). this map is hidden somewhere near the landing-place; the patrols come in turn to look for it--they have to row from a certain distance, land, find the map, and finally discover the treasure. they should be careful to leave no foot tracks, etc., near the treasure, because then the patrols that follow them will easily find it. the map and treasure are to be hidden afresh for the next patrol when they have been found. the patrol wins which returns to the starting place with the treasure in the shortest time. (this can be played on the river, the patrols having to row across the river to find the treasure.) horse and rider tourney in playing this game it is necessary to have a soft, velvety piece of grass, or if in doors, in the gymnasium, cover the floor with regular gymnasium mats. it requires four boys to play the game, two being horses and the other two riders. the riders mount their horses and dash at each other with great caution, striving to get a good hold of each other in such a way as to compel the opponent to dismount. this can be done either by dragging him from his mount or by making the horse and rider lose their balance so as to throw them off their feet. a great deal of sport can be gotten out of this game, and boys become very skilful after a little practice. mumbly peg (from daniel carter beard, national scout commissioner) first: hold the right fist with the back to the ground and with the jack-knife, with blade pointing to the right, resting { } on top of the closed fingers. the hand is swung to the right, up and over, describing a semicircle, so that the knife falls point downward and sticks, or should stick, upright in the ground. if there is room to slip two fingers, one above the other, beneath the handle of the knife, and if the point of the knife is hidden in the ground, it counts as a fair stick or throw. second: the next motion is the same as the one just described, but is performed with the left. third: take the point of the blade between the first and second fingers of the right hand, and fillip it with a jerk so that the knife turns once around in the air and strikes the point into the ground. fourth: do the same with the left hand. fifth: hold the knife as in the third and fourth positions, and bring the arm across the chest so that the knife handle touches the left ear. take hold of the right ear with the left hand and fillip the knife so that it turns once or twice in the air and strikes on its point in the earth. sixth: do the same with the left hand. seventh: still holding the knife in the same manner, bring the handle up to the nose and fillip it over through the air, so that it will stick in the ground. eighth: do the same with the handle at the right eye. ninth: repeat with the handle at the left eye. tenth: place the point of the blade on the top of the head. hold it in place with the forefinger, and with a downward push send it whirling down to earth, where it must stick with the point of blade in the earth. eleventh to fifteenth: hold the left hand with the fingers pointing upward and, beginning with the thumb, place the point of the knife on each finger as described above, and the forefinger of the right hand on the end of the knife handle. by a downward motion, throw the knife revolving through the air, so that it will alight with the point of the blade in the sod. sixteenth to twentieth: repeat, with the right hand up and the forefinger of the left hand on the knife handle. twenty-first, twenty-second: do the same from each knee. twenty-third: hold the point of the blade between the first and second fingers, and, placing the hand on the forehead, fillip the knife back over the head, so that it will stick in the ground behind the person ready for the next motion. twenty-fourth: after twenty-three the knife is left in the ground. then with the palm of the hand strike the knife handle a smart blow that will send it revolving over the ground { } for a yard, more or less, and cause it to stick in the ground where it stops. this is called "ploughing the field." when a miss is made the next player takes his turn, and when the first player's turn comes again he must try the feat over that he failed to perform last. a good player will sometimes go through almost all the twenty-four motions without failing to make a "two finger," that is, a fair stick, each time; but it is very unusual for anyone to run the game out in one inning. this is the game in twenty-four motions; many boys play it double that number. outdoor athletic standards the athletic standards given below are those which most boys ought to be able to attain. they are the result of the experience of several physical directors who have made a special study of athletics and physical work among boys. the rules governing the events are found in the official handbook of the athletic league of north america. these rules must be strictly adhered to. events under under under under over lbs. lbs. lbs. lbs. lbs. ( ) running broad jump ' ' ' ' ' ( ) running high jump ' " ' " ' " ' " ' " ( ) standing broad jump ' " ' ' " ' ' " ( ) standing high jump ' " ' " ' " ' " ' " ( ) pull-up (times) ( ) -yard swim sec. sec. sec. sec. sec. ( ) -yard swim sec. sec. sec. sec. sec. ( ) -yard dash . sec. . sec. sec. . sec. . sec. ( ) eight-potato race sec. sec. sec. sec. sec. ( ) lb.-shot put * ' ' ' ' ( ) push-up from floor * ( ) rope climb * sec. sec. sec. sec. ( ) -yard dash * * sec. . sec. . sec. * should not attempt this event for merit badge a boy under ninety pounds must qualify in seven of the first nine events; a boy under one hundred and ten pounds must qualify in ten of the first twelve events; all others must qualify in their proper class in eleven of the thirteen events. { } notes { } notes { } chapter ix patriotism and citizenship _by waldo h. sherman, author of "civics--studies in american citizenship"_ our country america is the home of social, religious, and political liberty--"the land of the free and the home of the brave." as a nation, we have always been rich in land, and for this reason millions of people have sought our shores. we have come into possession of our territory through treaty, purchase, and annexation. in speaking of our territorial area we usually speak of the "original territory" and "additions" to same. when we speak of "original territory" we mean that part of the united states which was ceded to us by great britain in the peace treaty of , at the close of the war of the revolution. this territory, in brief, is described as follows: east to the atlantic ocean, west to the mississippi river, north to the great lakes and canada, and as far south as the northern line of florida. we sometimes hear it spoken of as the territory of the "thirteen original states," meaning the states that formed the government of the constitution in . however if we look at the map we shall see that the original territory includes not only the territory of the thirteen original states, but comprises also land out of which twelve other states have been formed. looking at this area to-day, however, it seems a small part of our country compared with our present limits. additions _louisiana purchase_: what is known as the louisiana purchase we bought from france in . it consisted of , square miles, for which we paid $ , , . it is described as follows: west of the mississippi river to the rocky mountains, north to canada, and south to the gulf of mexico, exclusive of texas. this is a territory greater than the present combined areas of spain, portugal, italy, hungary, and the balkan states. { } _florida purchase_: in , we purchased florida from spain at a cost of over $ , , , and this single state is larger in territorial area than the combined territory of denmark, netherlands, belgium, and switzerland. _texas_: in , texas came to us by annexation, but the outcome of this annexation later on was our war with mexico. in territorial area this is an empire in itself--larger than the whole german empire. _oregon territory_: in , by treaty with great britain, we acquired what is known as the oregon territory. this includes the states of oregon, washington, and idaho. _mexican cession and purchase from texas_: as an outcome of the mexican war, we obtained from mexico, in , the territory of california, nevada, utah, arizona, and a part of new mexico at a cost of $ , , ; and in , we purchased from texas the remaining part of new mexico and that part of colorado not included in the louisiana purchase, at a cost of $ , , . _gadsden purchase_: in , we made what is known as the gadsden purchase, acquiring thus from mexico a needed tract of land on the boundary between mexico, arizona, and new mexico, paying for this tract $ , , . _alaska_: in , we paid russia $ , , , and added alaska to our possessions. this purchase is spoken of in history as "seward's folly," because the transaction, made while he was secretary of state, was not generally considered a good bargain. nevertheless it has proved one of our most valuable possessions. _hawaii_: in , we reached out into the pacific waters and annexed the beautiful hawaiian or sandwich islands. _porto rico, pine islands, guam, philippine islands_: in , the island of porto rico with an area of square miles came into our possession as an outcome of the spanish-american war; likewise the pine islands with their square miles; guam with square miles; and the philippine islands with a territorial area of , square miles. but for these latter in settlement of a number of private claims, and to gain peaceable possession of various public lands, we paid spain $ , , . _samoan islands_: in , we acquired the samoan islands, with an area of square miles; and, in , some additional islands in the philippines. { } land settlements the first permanent english settlements in america were made at jamestown, va., in , and at plymouth, mass., in ; and from these two settlements we may trace in large part the growth, character, and development of our national life. the story of the "pilgrim fathers" in massachusetts has been told for generations in literature and in song, and can never cease to be of romantic and thrilling interest. the story of the settlement and dispersal of other nationalities in america--the swedes in delaware, the dutch in new york, the spanish and french in florida and along the banks of the mississippi and ohio rivers--all this is summed up in what is known as "colonial history." in , at the close of the french and indian wars, england had come into possession of practically all the territory east of the mississippi--that territory which was ceded in as the original territory of the united states. you will sometimes hear it said that thirteen is an unlucky number. indeed you may have known people so superstitious that they refuse to sit down at a table when the number is thirteen. again you may know it to be a fact that some hotels do not have a room numbered thirteen, and that many steamboats likewise follow the same custom in state-room arrangement. strange superstition for americans! it took thirteen states to make our union; we have made thirteen additions to our territory; when george washington was inaugurated as president, a salute of thirteen guns was fired; and, finally, the foundation of the flag of our country bears thirteen stripes. the american revolution the story of the american revolution ( - )--declaration of independence ( ), the adoption of the articles of confederation ( ), and, finally, the making and adoption of the constitution of the united states in --all is summed up in a period of fourteen years, and may be told and written in the life of george washington, who was indeed the "father of his country." the cause of the american revolution was england's oppression of her american colonists; and the injustice of taxation without representation, with other injustices, finally brought about rebellion. the war began in massachusetts with the battles of lexington and concord, april , , and ended at yorktown, va., october , . the treaty of peace was { } signed at paris, france, september , , and november of that year, known in history as "evacuation day," the british took their departure down the bay of new york harbor and america was free. now do we find ourselves at the fireside of american patriotism. here is washington. he is a virginian, and the american people know him at this time as colonel washington. it is the th day of june, , and the second continental congress is in session at philadelphia. john adams of massachusetts has the floor. he is to show himself at this time the master statesman. justly has he been called the "colossus of the revolution." on his way to independence hall this morning he meets his cousin, samuel adams, and tells him what he is going to do. "we must," he says; "act on this matter at once. we must make congress declare for or against something. i'll tell you what i am going to do. i am determined this very morning to make a direct motion that congress shall adopt the army before boston, and appoint the virginian, colonel washington, commander of it." adams is now stating to the congress the gravity of the situation; he points out the necessity of immediate action the colonies must be united, the army must be brought together, disciplined, and trained for service, and, under congress, a fitting commander appointed. "such a gentleman," he said, "i have in mind. i mention no names, but every gentleman here knows him at once as a brave soldier and a man of affairs. he is a gentleman from virginia, one of this body, and well known to all of us. he is a gentleman of skill and excellent universal character and would command the approbation of all the colonies better than any other person in the union." george washington is in the hall. the eyes of all congress have turned toward him. he is surprised, confused, and embarrassed, leaves his seat and hurries into the library. congress spent two days considering adams's motion, for there were other men who had hoped for the appointment; but finally, on the th of june, , a ballot was taken, and washington was unanimously elected commander-in-chief of the continental army. on july , , he took command of the army at cambridge, mass., and march , , the british were expelled from boston. { } we now come to the declaration of independence, july , . it was written by thomas jefferson, at that time a young man of thirty-three. the committee of the general congress appointed to draft it, consisted of the following: thomas jefferson, john adams, benjamin franklin, roger sherman, and robert r. livingston. the strong feeling of thomas jefferson as he wrote the declaration is indicated by his statement that, "rather than submit to the right of legislating for us assumed by the british parliament, i would lend my hand to sink the whole island in the ocean." here also we get a glimpse of one of the most interesting and delightful characters in the history of this period--benjamin franklin. history records that while thomas jefferson wrote the declaration of independence, a few verbal suggestions were made by doctor franklin, as the following conversation reported to have taken place between them would indicate: "well, brother jefferson," said franklin, "is the fair copy made?" "all ready, doctor," replied jefferson. "will you hear it through once more?" "as many times as you wish," responded the smiling doctor, with a merry twinkle in his eyes. "one can't get too much of a good thing, you know." jefferson then read to franklin the declaration of independence, which has been pronounced one of the world's greatest papers. "that's good, thomas! that's right to the point! that will make king george wince. i wish i had done it myself." it is said franklin would "have put a joke into the declaration of independence, if it had fallen to his lot to write that immortal document." the declaration of independence went forth to the world signed by one man, john hancock--which explains the expression you sometimes hear, "put your john hancock there." it was, however, signed later by all the members of that congress--fifty-four in number. this immortal document has been carefully preserved and the original may be seen at washington. the declaration was a notice to great britain and to all the world that the american colonists would no longer be subject to great britain; that henceforth they were to be a free and independent people, holding great britain as they held the rest of mankind, "enemies in war--in peace friends." this declaration marks the birth of our nation. our government fathers fully realized the step they were taking. they knew it meant a final breaking with the home government of england, but--"with a firm reliance on the protection of divine providence," in support of this { } declaration, they pledged to each other "their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor." following the expulsion of the british from boston, the battle field of the revolution changes to new york, moving to harlem heights and white plains; then to new jersey; trenton, and princeton; then to pennsylvania; brandywine, westchester, germantown, valley forge, and on to monmouth. but here let us pause. it has been a terrible winter at valley forge. while the british at philadelphia, twenty miles away, have been living in luxury, our washington and his men have suffered bitterly with hunger and cold; and out of a list of eleven thousand men, three thousand at valley forge lay sick at one time. but at last the spring has come and washington has now been nearly three years in service. listen! the order has gone forth! at : o'clock comes the signal, and the firing of a cannon sees all men under arms! at : o'clock the second signal is given and the march begins. it is may , , and washington is assembling his men. great news has come and it is fitting to return thanks to divine providence--so reads his proclamation. now comes the third signal, the firing of thirteen cannon! another signal! and the whole army breaks into a loud huzza "long live the king of france!" followed by a running fire of guns. on this same day in the afternoon, washington gives a banquet to his officers, aides, and guests, to which they march arm-in-arm, thirteen abreast. what does it mean? it means that benjamin franklin has been heard from, and that an alliance with france, england's bitterest enemy, has been made. some day when you are in washington, you may see directly in front of the white house, lafayette park, and, knowing the story of the revolution, you understand why it is there. you also understand why washington's army on that may morning shouted, "long live the king of france." but it is not our purpose here to tell the whole story: we can only touch the high points. again the army moves to white plains and on to middlebrook and new windsor; and washington spends the winter ( ) at morristown, n. j. the end is approaching. he joins lafayette at yorktown, va., and on october th, cornwallis, the british general, surrenders to george washington, commander-in-chief of the american army. thus the conflict begun in one english settlement is ended in the other. massachusetts marks the beginning and virginia the ending of the war of the revolution. { } the war of - the war of was a naval war. it was a battle for rights--the rights of our sailors, the rights of our commerce. american ships and cargoes were being confiscated. france and england and the barbary pirates were engaged in a profitable war on our commerce, and last but not least twenty thousand american seamen had been pressed into service and were slaves on ships that were foreign, england especially claiming the right to search american ships and press into service all men found on board who were english by birth, though american by choice and adoption. "once a subject always a subject," said great britain, but our answer in was as it is now: any foreigner after five years' residence within our territory, who has complied with our naturalization laws and taken the oath of allegiance to our flag, becomes one of our citizens as completely as if he were native born. this war is sometimes spoken of as a "leaderless war," but great leaders came out of it. the names of hull, perry, and lawrence are memorable in its history; it was the war which made andrew jackson, known as "old hickory," president of the united states in . you will read the story of his great victory in the battle of new orleans. some day you will read the life story of david glasgow farragut of whom it is said that, with the exception of nelson, the great english admiral, "he was as great an admiral as ever sailed the broad or narrow seas." although the great work of farragut was in the civil war, the story of his life began in the war of when he was but ten years old. admiral farragut is reported as giving this explanation, in the late years of his life, of his success in the service of his country "it was all owing to a resolution that i formed when i was ten years old. my father was sent to new orleans with the little navy we had, to look after the treason of burr. i accompanied him as cabin-boy. i had some qualities that i thought made a man of me. i could swear like an old salt, could drink as stiff a glass of grog as if i had doubled cape horn, and could smoke like a locomotive. i was great at cards, and was fond of gambling in every shape. at the close of dinner one day, my father turned everybody out of the cabin, locked the door, and said to me: "david, what do you mean to be?" "'i mean to follow the sea,' i said." { } "'follow the sea!' exclaimed my father; 'yes, be a poor, miserable, drunken sailor before the mast, kicked and cuffed about the world, and die in some fever hospital in a foreign clime?' "'no, father,' i replied, 'i will tread the quarter-deck, and command as you do!' "'no, david; no boy ever trod the quarter-deck with such principles as you have, and such habits as you exhibit. you will have to change your whole course of life if you ever become a man.' "my father left me and went on deck. i was stunned by the rebuke, and overwhelmed with mortification. 'a poor, miserable, drunken sailor before the mast, kicked and cuffed about the world, and die in some fever hospital!' that's my fate is it? i'll change my life, and i will change it at once. i will never utter another oath, never drink another drop of intoxicating liquor, never gamble, and as god is my witness i have kept these three vows to this hour." the star spangled banner the sun is slowly sinking in the west. the men of the army and navy are drawn up at attention. at every fort, army post, and navy yard, and on every american battle-ship at home or abroad, the flag of our country is flying at full mast. the sunset gun will soon be fired, and night will follow the day as darkness follows the light. all is ready, the signal is given, the men salute, and the flag to the band's accompaniment of "the star spangled banner" slowly descends for the night to be folded and kept for the morning's hoisting. "and the star spangled banner in triumph shall wave while the land of the free is the home of the brave." in the cemetery of mt. olivet, near frederick, md., there is a spot where the flag of our country is never lowered. it is keeping watch by night as by day over the grave of francis scott key, author of "the star spangled banner." he was born in frederick county, md., august , , and died in baltimore, january , . the congress of the united states has never formally adopted "the star spangled banner" as a national anthem, but it has become such through the recognition { } given to it by the army and navy. it is played on all state occasions at home or abroad and is the response of our bands at all international gatherings. in the theatre, at a public meeting, or at a banquet--whenever it is played, the people rise and remain standing to the end as a tribute to the flag of our country. the poem itself is descriptive of what the author saw and felt on the night of september , , as he watched the bombardment of fort mchenry by the british during the war of . the city of washington had been sacked, bombarded, and burned by the british, and now in their march of destruction, they were bombarding the fort to gain entrance to baltimore's harbor, in which city they had purposed to spend the winter. we can well imagine the joy of key's heart, the son of a revolutionary patriot, held in custody on a british battle-ship, to see in the morning "that our flag was still there," and to know, therefore, that there was still hope for our country. "then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, and this be our motto, 'in god is our trust'." the birth of new states the history of the fifty-six years between and is marked by the development of new states formed out of the territorial settlement of the wilderness. the people of our country have always been pioneering, going ahead of civilization, so to speak, but always taking it with them. scouts they have been in every sense of the word. following the rivers, clearing the forests, fording the streams, braving the dangers, living the wild life--brave men and women! the first state to come into the union of the thirteen original states was vermont, the "green mountain" state ( ); next came kentucky ( ), the "blue grass" state, the home of daniel boone, the great hunter and pioneer. four years later, ( ) came tennessee, the "volunteer" state, receiving this name because of its large number of volunteer soldiers for the seminole war and the war of ; next comes ohio ( ), the "buckeye," so called because of the large number of buckeye trees, the nut of which bears some resemblance to a buck's eye. this is the first state to be formed out of the public domain, known at this time as the "northwest territory." the land ordinance bill of and the homestead act of { } relate to the development and settlement of the public domain, the first being a plan of survey applied to all public lands owned by the united states government; the other being a law by which the possession of these lands was made possible to settlers. following ohio into the union came louisiana ( ), the "creole" state whose people were descendants of the original french and spanish settlers. this was the first state to be formed west of the mississippi, and new orleans, its chief city, known as the "crescent city," is one of the oldest in our country and full of historic interest. after the war of the new states began to come in rapidly. the admission of indiana ( ), "the hoosier"; mississippi ( ), the "bayou"; illinois, the "prairie" ( ); alabama ( ), the "cotton," show that the pioneer settlements of our people had been closing in along the banks of the ohio and the mississippi rivers. we now go back to the far east, for the state of maine, our "pine tree" state, has now been developed, and its admission ( ) completes the coast line of states as far south as georgia. the next state admitted is missouri ( ), the "iron," followed by arkansas, the "bear" ( ), to be followed in turn by michigan ( ), the "lake" or "wolverine" state, the thirteenth state to be admitted; and the stars in our flag are now doubled. the first census of the united states was taken in , and the constitution provided that it must be taken every ten years thereafter. in that year, the order of states in rank of population was as follows: virginia first, pennsylvania second, north carolina third, massachusetts fourth, and new york fifth. the census of makes a decided change, we find, in the order of population, and new york comes first, virginia second, pennsylvania third, north carolina fourth, ohio fifth, kentucky sixth, and massachusetts seventh. the states of florida and texas came into the union in the same year--the one march and the other december , ; and thereby hangs a tale. it had been claimed by our government that texas was included in the louisiana purchase of ; but the mexicans claimed it also, and, in , in order to close the deal for the purchase of florida, our government was obliged to relinquish its claim to texas. at this time the possession of florida was more desirable and necessary to the peace of our country than the { } possession of texas; it was under spanish rule, overrun with outlaws and a most undesirable neighbor, besides being very necessary to the rounding out of our coast territory. the mexican war the annexation and admission of texas into the union in came about through the pioneering and settlement of our people in her territory; where at first welcomed and encouraged by the mexicans, they were later deluged in blood. the spirit of americanism grew rampant under the barbaric and military despotism of the mexican government, and in there was an uprising of the settlers led by a pioneer, an ex-governor of tennessee, gen. samuel houston, the man for whom the city of houston, texas, was named. at this time there were about ten thousand americans in texas, and on march , , through their representatives in convention assembled, these americans in true revolutionary spirit declared texas an independent republic. the mexican government tried to put down this rebellion, but met with a crushing defeat, and texas, the "lone star" state, remained an independent republic up to the time of her annexation and admission as a state of the union. the cause of the war with mexico, then, was her resentment because texas began to move for annexation to the united states. the fact that texas had been for many years an independent republic and been so recognized by the united states, great britain, france, and some smaller countries, gave texas the right on her part to ask for annexation, and the united states the right to annex her. but in order to bring texas into the union and save her people from the mexicans, the united states was obliged to declare war against mexico. this she did may , , although texas was not admitted as a state until december th of that year. the war lasted nearly three years, peace being declared february , . as an outcome of the war the peaceful possession of texas was secured, and also possession of the territory of california, nevada, utah, arizona, and a part of colorado and new mexico, for which territory, however, our government in final settlement paid mexico, $ , , . new states-- - during the mexican war, iowa ( ), the "hawkeye" state, came into the union, followed by the state of wisconsin ( ), { } the "badger." next comes the story of the "forty-niners," and california ( ), the "golden state," enters the union; and then comes minnesota ( ), the "north star" state, and the great lakes are walled in, this state completing the circuit. oregon, ( ), the "beaver" follows, then the "garden of the west," kansas ( ), and the civil war is upon us. of course, we do not mean to say that kansas was the cause of the civil war, although it had much to do with it. the civil war-- - the civil war was a war between states, in the government of the united states between states that were slave and states that were free. the rights of property ownership are involved in state rights, and slaves held as property in slave-holding states were not recognized as such in states that were free. therefore, the principle of slavery became involved not alone in the individual ownership of slaves, but also in the rights of a state, and the relationship of states to each other in the government of the united states. at the close of the revolutionary war, one of the first things to be settled was the boundaries as between states of the land comprising the thirteen original states; and as an outcome of this settlement, there came into possession of the united states all of that territory ceded by great britain in , which was not included in the boundaries of those states. this territory, in brief, may be described as the territory east of the mississippi, and north and south of the ohio river; and out of this territory and that west of the mississippi added later ( ) through the louisiana purchase, most of the new states were formed that came into the union before the civil war. and this was the beginning of what is known as the "public domain"--that is, land owned by the federal government. in , congress passed a law which has become general in its application to all public lands of the united states. it is a law for the uniform survey of public lands into townships six miles square, subdivided into sections containing acres, and quarter sections containing acres. the purpose of the government in making this survey was to make public lands in the territories of the government easy of settlement, and as the townships became settled, to develop in them the local township form of government. { } the territory north of the ohio river was designated the "northwest territory." as soon as the public lands in this territory were thrown open to settlers, they began to pour in. indeed, in many instances, they went ahead of the survey. the next step taken by congress was to pass a law, in , for the government and protection of those settlers in this northwest territory, and in this law congress made provision that slavery should be prohibited. therefore, states formed in this territory had to come into the union as free states. this was a restriction of slavery, however, which did not apply to the territory south of the ohio, nor west of the mississippi; so that when a new state came into the union, formed out of either one of these territories, it became a great political factor in our government either for or against slavery. in the passing of the years, many changes were taking place in our government, but there came a time when the people began to realize that slavery was spreading and that our government was politically divided between states that were slave and states that were free--or, in other words, that in the principle of slavery the peace and preservation of the union were involved. and thus it happened that the slave-holding states, not being able to live at peace in the union, decided to go out of it, and live by themselves. the right of a state to leave the union was called "the right of secession"--a right which the north held did not exist under the constitution. nevertheless, one by one, under the leadership of south carolina, december , , the slave-holding states announced their secession, either by act of state legislature or in convention assembled; and on february , , there had been formed in our government a southern confederacy. at this time the whole number of states in the union was thirty-two, and of this number eleven entered the southern confederacy. the first shot was fired by the southern confederacy on april , , against fort sumter, a fortification of the federal government over which floated the stars and stripes. the war lasted four years, ending on april , , when robert e. lee, commander-in-chief of the army of the southern confederacy, surrendered to ulysses s. grant, commander-in-chief of the federal army. abraham lincoln the central figure in the civil war is abraham lincoln--in heart, brain, and character, not only one of our greatest americans, but one of the world's greatest men. { } lincoln was born february , , in hardin county, kentucky. his parents had come to this then pioneer state from virginia, and his grandfather, whose christian name he bore, moved there as early as , where, a few years later, he was killed by the indians while trying to make a home in the forest. when lincoln was eight years old, his people moved to the new state of indiana about the time it came into the union, and there he lived until he was twenty-one, when he went to illinois, from which state, eventually, he was elected president. in , when he was beginning to gain some recognition as a national figure, he was asked to write a little sketch of his life, and in the letter enclosing it he said: "there is not much of it, for the reason, i suppose, there is not much of me." in this sketch, which is indeed brief, he tells us he was raised to farm work until he was twenty-two; that up to that time he had had little education; and when he became of age he did not know much beyond reading, writing, and ciphering to the "rule of three." he clerked for one year in a store and was elected and served as captain of the volunteers in the black hawk war; later on he ran for the state legislature ( ) and was defeated, though successful in the three succeeding elections. while in the state legislature, he studied law and later went to springfield to practise it. the only other public office he makes note of is his election to the lower house of congress for one term ( ). he returned to springfield and took up more earnestly the study and practice of law; he entered with spirit into the political campaigns, and constantly was growing in public esteem. his public debates with douglas ( ) made him a familiar figure throughout the state of illinois, and his profound knowledge and masterful handling of questions debated, his convincing and unanswerable arguments, his clear grasp of the political situation, began to gain the attention of eastern politicians, convincing them and the country at large that they had a mighty force to reckon with in the prairie state of illinois. although he lost the election to the united states senate, and douglas won, the campaign had pushed him to the front as a national figure, and paved the way for his presidential nomination. in , at the republican convention assembled in chicago, abraham lincoln was nominated for president. in november he was elected and march , , he was inaugurated. his address at this time was an earnest plea for peace and friendship { } between the north and the south: "we are not enemies but friends. we must not be enemies. though passion may have strained, it must not break our bond of affection." but the war tide was rising and could not be stemmed; four years of bitter conflict ensued. lincoln's emancipation of the slaves was made only after he had convinced himself it could not be longer deferred and preserve the union. "my paramount duty," he said, "is to save the union, and not either to destroy or save slavery. what i do about slavery and the colored race, i do because i believe it helps to save the union; and what i forbear, i forbear because i do not believe it would save the union." his emancipation proclamation, officially freeing the slaves, was finally issued in september, , to take effect jan, st of the following year. lincoln was elected to the presidency for the second term and inaugurated march , , while the war was still on. his second inaugural address closes with these words with which every boy should be familiar, voicing as they do the exalted spirit of a great and good man: with malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as god gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and for his orphan; to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves, and with all nations. the war ended on april th of this same year, and on april th, the president, weary with the cares of state, but with the burden of the war clouds lifted, had gone to ford's theatre in washington for an evening's entertainment and pleasure, accompanied by mrs. lincoln. the box which the president occupied had been most elaborately decorated with the flag of the country. his coming had been heralded abroad and the audience that had assembled in his honor was large, brilliant, and joyously happy over the assured preservation of the union. in the midst of the play, the assassin, j. wilkes booth, entered the box and fired the fatal shot. the body of the bleeding president was taken to a house across the street where the next morning at : o'clock he died. thus the emancipator of the slave, the friend of the whole people and the savior of our country died, a martyr to the cause of freedom. washington has been called "the aristocrat," and lincoln "the man of the people." the one had culture, wealth, and social position; the other lacked all of these in his early years. lincoln's early life was cradled in the woods, and all of life out of doors had been his in the new and pioneer states of the { } wilderness. he grew up not knowing many people, but somehow in his up-coming there was developed in his life a great heart full of tenderness and kindly feeling. doubtless it was the very hardships of life that made him what he was. at any rate, he was one of the greatest and noblest figures in all history. he was called "honest abe" by those who knew him because always, even in little things, he wanted to see perfect justice done; and thus it was, when he came to things of large importance, that the man was only a boy grown tall, not only in stature but in the things that make for righteousness in a nation. the spanish-american war-- the war with spain was not of this country's seeking. the island of cuba, whose distress had aroused the sympathy of the whole world, was our near neighbor, and to sit idly by and witness the inhuman treatment practised by the spanish soldiery upon the helpless islanders would hardly be a part creditable to any people. it was not our intention at first to do other than to relieve the suffering and distress of cuba, near at hand, and this we tried to do peaceably in the supplying of food and other necessities of life. as the next step, the united states sent a remonstrance to spain telling her she should send a more humane governor to the island. but as matters grew worse instead of better, even under a change of governors, the sympathy of the united states became daily more deeply enlisted in the freedom of the cubans. the battleship maine was sent to havana harbor to protect, if need be, the americans and american interests in cuba. on the night of february th, , an explosion occurred, sinking the ship almost immediately. with the destruction of the maine--whether by accident or intent--with the appalling loss of two hundred and fifty-six men, including two officers, relations with spain became more and more strained, until war seemed inevitable. on april , , president mckinley in a special message to congress, said: "in the name of humanity and civilization, the war in cuba must stop." war indeed was formally declared april th, and in the brief space of one hundred and fourteen days history had added to its annals: the blockading of cuban ports whereby the spanish fleet was trapped; the invasion and siege of the island by united states regulars, volunteers, and rough riders; the { } destruction of the pacific spanish fleet in manila bay by admiral dewey; and, finally, the destruction of the remainder of the spanish fleet under command of admiral cervera, sunday morning, july d. the final outcome of this war was the freedom of cuba and the possession by the united states of porto rico, guam, and the philippine islands. peace there is no country in the world less warlike than ours, and no country in the world that more potently argues for universal peace. we have never departed from the spirit of our declaration of independence, "that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." we put it into our constitution when we said, "in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquillity, provide for the common defence, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity" we "do ordain and establish this constitution for the united states of america." such has been, then, and always must be, our programme--the chart and compass of all our ways. the american flag "_a star for every state and a state for every star_." the flag of one's country is its dearest possession--emblem of home, and country, and native land. this is what one thinks and feels when he sees the flag, and this is what it means. our flag is the emblem of liberty--the emblem of hope--the emblem of peace and good-will toward men. there is a story, quite generally believed, that the first flag was planned and made in by betsy ross, who kept an upholstery shop on arch street, philadelphia, and that this, a year later, was adopted by congress. the special committee appointed to design a national flag consisted of george washington, robert morris, and col. george ross, uncle of the late husband of betsy ross. the star that the committee decided upon had six points, but mrs. ross advised the five-pointed star, which has ever since been used in the united states flag. the flag thus designed was colored by a local artist, and from this colored copy betsy ross made the first american flag. when washington was in command at cambridge, in january, , the flag used by him consisted of a banner of { } thirteen red and white stripes with the british union jack in the upper left-hand comer. the betsy ross house has been purchased by the american flag house and betsy ross memorial association, and is pointed out as one of the interesting historical places in philadelphia. the official history of our flag begins on june , , when the american congress adopted the following resolution proposed by john adams: resolved: that the flag of the thirteen united states be thirteen stripes, alternate red and white: that the union be thirteen stars, white on a blue field, representing a new constellation. "we take," said washington, "the star from heaven, the red from our mother country, separating it by white stripes, thus showing that we have separated from her, and the white stripes shall go down to posterity representing liberty." in designing the flag there was much discussion as to the arrangement of the stars in the field of blue. it was thought at one time that a new stripe as well as a new star should be added for each new state admitted to the union. indeed, in , congress passed an act to the effect that on and after may , , "the flag of the united states be fifteen stripes, alternate red and white; and that the union be fifteen stars, white in a field of blue." these additional stars and stripes were for the states of vermont and kentucky. the impracticability of adding a stripe for each state was apparent as other states began to be admitted. moreover, the flag of fifteen stripes, it was thought, did not properly represent the union; therefore, on april , , after a period of twenty-one years in which the flag of fifteen stripes had been used, congress passed an act which finally fixed the general flag of our country, which reads as follows: an act to establish the flag of the united states. sec. . be it enacted, etc.. that from and after the fourth day of july next, the flag of the united states be thirteen horizontal stripes, alternate red and white; that the union have twenty stars, white in a blue field. sec. . be it further enacted, that, on the admission of every new state into the union, one star be added to the union of the flag; and that such addition shall take effect on the fourth day of july succeeding such admission. patriotism and citizenship flag day june th, the anniversary of the adoption of the flag, is celebrated as flag day in many of our states. { } in order to show proper respect for the flag, the following rules should be observed: it should not be hoisted before sunrise nor allowed to remain up after sunset. at "retreat," sunset, civilian spectators should stand at attention and give the military salute. when the national colors are passing on parade or review, the spectators should, if walking, halt, and if sitting, rise and stand at attention and uncover. when the flag is flown at half staff as a sign of mourning it should be hoisted to full staff at the conclusion of the funeral. in placing the flag at half mast, it should first be hoisted to the top of the staff and then lowered to position, and preliminary to lowering from half staff it should first be raised to top. on memorial day, may th, the flag should fly at half mast from sunrise until noon, and full staff from noon to sunset. (taken from the "sons of the revolution," state of new york.) the scout's pledge to the flag "i pledge allegiance to my flag and to the republic for which it stands; one nation indivisible, with liberty and justice for all." congress the congress of the united states is its law-making body, and is composed of the senate and house of representatives. senators are elected for six years, two from each state; representatives for two years, each state being represented in proportion to its population. the vice-president of the united states is the president of the senate, and the presiding officer of the house of representatives is chosen by the members from their number; he is called the speaker. the salary of the senators and representatives is $ , a year and cents per mile is allowed for traveling to and from washington. the speaker's salary is $ , a year. the president the president is elected for a term of four years. he lives during his term of office at the white house, where presidential receptions and social affairs of state are held. the president's offices are connected with the white house. here he receives his callers and here the meetings of his cabinet are held. the salary of the president is $ , , a year. the cabinet the members of the cabinet are the officers and heads of the several departments of the administrative government. { } they are appointed by the president with the advice and consent of the senate. the members of the cabinet are as follows: secretary of state, secretary of the treasury, secretary of war, attorney general, postmaster general, secretary of the navy, secretary of the interior, secretary of agriculture, secretary of commerce and labor. the members of the cabinet are such men as the president believes are qualified to serve during his administration of office, and are usually members of the same political party as the president. united states courts the supreme court of the united states is at washington, d. c., but there are other courts of the united states held in the several states, called district courts. washington, d. c. the capitol at washington is the home of congress, and the supreme court. the library of congress, the treasury, army and navy, pension, post-office, and many other buildings of public character are located in washington. these during certain hours are open to visitors. the army the president, in accordance with the constitution, is commander-in-chief of the army and navy of the united states and of the militia of the several states when called to the actual service of the united states. the law provides that the total strength of the army shall not exceed at any one time , . as now organized ( ) the total strength of the staff and line is , not including the provisional force and the hospital corps. these figures include the porto rico regiment of infantry, the service school detachments, the military academy (officers, soldiers and cadets), the indian scouts, , native scouts in the philippine islands, first lieutenants of the medical reserve corps on active duty, and , recruits, etc. they do not include the veterinary surgeons, the officers of the medical reserve corps not on active duty, nor the retired officers and enlisted men of the army. the appropriation for the maintenance of the army for the year - was $ , , . militia the law of our country states that in time of war every able-bodied male citizen, between the ages of eighteen and forty-five, { } shall be counted a member of the state militia. the state militia is divided into two classes: one, the organized, known as the national guard; and the other the unorganized, known as the reserve militia. the membership of the national guard is voluntary. one may join or not, as he chooses, except that in some states the law requires that students at the state university shall receive military training for at least a part of their university course, and during that time they are accounted a part of the national guard of the state. the governor of each state holds the same relationship to the state militia as the president to the army and navy: he is commander-in-chief. military academy the united states military academy is at west point, n. y., on the hudson river. the number of students is limited to , and appointments to the academy are made in accordance with the rule which permits each united states senator and each congressman to have one representative, and also gives the president the right to make forty appointments at large. candidates for appointment must be between the ages of seventeen and twenty-two; must pass the required physical examination; also an examination in english grammar, composition and literature, algebra and geometry, geography and history. the course of instruction is four years; the discipline very strict. only one leave of absence is granted during the entire four years, and this comes at the close of the second year. the pay is $ . per year, and on graduation a cadet is commissioned a second lieutenant. to receive an appointment to west point, one must apply to his united states senator or to a congressman in the state in which he lives, or to the president. the navy the enlisted strength of the navy, as in the army, is limited. the law allows , men and apprenticed seamen. the number of officers and enlisted men at the present time is , , and the annual expenditure for the support of the navy at this date ( ) is about $ , , . naval enlistment the enlistment of men in the united states navy, as in the army, is voluntary. the term is four years. to be eligible for enlistment one must be between the ages of eighteen and { } twenty-two. he must be of good moral character, must pass the physical examination, must be able to write english, and take the oath of allegiance. naval militia in the district of columbia and in twenty of the states we have what is known as the naval militia. the assistant secretary of the navy stands in a special relation to the naval militia through the governor and the adjutant-general of the several states. the naval militia holds the same relationship to the navy that the national guard does to the united states army. naval academy the united states naval academy is at annapolis, md. the students are called midshipmen, and candidates for appointment must be between the ages of sixteen and twenty. the appointment of candidates is made as at west point--through senators and congressmen and the president, the only difference being in the number of appointments that may be made: each senator and representative may be represented by two midshipmen at annapolis, while at west point he is represented by but one cadet. the president has the appointment of seven men to the naval academy--two from the district of columbia and five from the united states at large. he may also appoint one from porto rico, who must be a native. the midshipmen's course is six years--four at annapolis, and two at sea. the pay is $ per year. civil service in the administration of the government of the united states, thousands of men and women are employed in the various offices at washington, and are sometimes termed the great "peace army." in one period of our country's history, it was believed that each president, when he came into office, had the right to turn out of office every person employed by the government in any of its civil departments, should it please him to do so, and to put into office his own friends or the friends of his party. this right was claimed on the ground that "to the victor belong the spoils"--a theory of government administration that has been severely dealt with and reformed through what is known as the "civil service act." the civil service act was passed { } by congress january , , and by this act a civil service commission was brought into existence. the three members of this commission are appointed by the president with consent of the senate, not more than two of whom may be members of the same party. thus, by this civil service act, positions in the government service are now obtained for the most part through competitive examinations, and such positions are not affected in any way by the incoming of a new president or the appointment of a new head of a department. in some states and in most of the large cities civil service appointments are now made through competitive examinations. anyone interested in learning what positions may be secured in the service of the government, may apply to the civil service commission at washington, d. c., or make inquiry at the local post-office. foreign service the foreign service of our government is carried on through the diplomatic corps and the consular service. in the diplomatic corps, we have ambassadors, envoys, ministers, diplomatic agents, and secretaries; in the consular service, consuls general, consuls, and consular agents. our diplomatic representatives abroad look after our interests as a nation in the family of nations. they represent us socially as well as politically in the great foreign capitals of the world. they are received as our representatives of state, and it is their duty to sustain and promote good-will and friendly feeling between us and other nations. the consular service is more directly responsible for our trade relationships in the great centres of the world. through our foreign service, also, americans abroad, whether as tourists, or residents, are protected in person and in property interests. appointments to the foreign service are made by the president with the advice of the senate. as we send our representatives abroad, so the countries to which our representatives go in turn send their representatives to us. in the city of washington, one may see representatives of all the principal nations of the earth living there as ambassadors, for the purpose of promoting friendly commercial and political relationships. the secretary of state is the representative of our government through whose office the great work of the foreign service is directly carried on, and upon him devolves therefore the great affairs of state relationships with other countries. when our independence as a nation was declared in , it { } was important to gain as quickly as possible from other nations a recognition of our independence and of our entrance into the family of nations. france was the first to give us recognition, and the first to enter into a treaty relationship. some of the most thrilling and interesting stories of our national life are to be found in the adventurous determination of our representatives to gain the recognition of our independence as a nation from the great powers of the earth. the name of benjamin franklin, sent to the court of france, stands at the head of our diplomatic service; and we may read with interest of the first appearance of our diplomatic representative, john adams, at the court of great britain. when we speak of court in this sense, we mean, of course, the king's court--the place of meeting--usually the throne room. in our country, foreign representatives are received by the president at the white house, or by the secretary of state in his office apartments. some foreign countries have built for their representatives in washington palatial and beautiful residences, over which floats the flag of the country to which the palace or residence belongs. our own country has already begun to make this residential provision for her representatives abroad, and in time will undoubtedly own residences in all of the principal foreign capitals. state government the states of the united states are not all alike either in constitution or government, although there is a likeness at many points. for instance, each state has about the same officers, a governor, lieutenant-governor, secretary of state, treasurer, auditor, adjutant general, superintendent of schools, etc. each state has its own state legislature: a senate to which state senators are elected, and a house of representatives sometimes called the assembly, to which state representatives or assemblymen are elected. each state legislature makes laws only for its own state; therefore not all state laws are alike. indeed, there is a great deal of individuality to each state, and rightly so. as each person has his own individuality, and as each family has its own characteristics, so each state has an individuality and characteristics peculiar to itself. the history of each state reveals its character, so also the climate, the hills, the valleys, the mountains, the plains, the lakes, the rivers, the harbors, the schools, the colleges, the towns, the villages, and the cities within its borders, all help in forming the character of a state. { } towns, villages, and cities the government of the town, or the village, or the city is called local government. it is government close at hand--home government. and out of the home government of each town, village, and city in a state must come, by the votes of the people at the ballot-box, the men whom they choose as their representatives, in the government of the state and the nation--for the people rule through representatives of their own choosing. politics in every presidential election, the people, through the rule of the majority, as determined by the constitution, elect their chief magistrate, the president, who becomes the "first citizen" of the nation and is entitled "mr. president." the people of a state by the same rule elect their chief magistrate and entitle him "his excellency, the governor"; he is the state's chief or leading citizen. the people of the city by the same rule elect their chief magistrate and entitle him "his honor, the mayor," the city's leading citizen. the people of the town, in the new england states, elect their chief officers three to five men--and entitle them the "selectmen"; although in towns of the middle and western states, they are called "supervisors." so, likewise, the people in town, village, and city by the same "rule of the majority" elect aldermen, councilmen, state senators, representatives or assemblymen, and congressmen. and the state legislatures in turn elect, according to the constitution of the united states, the state's united states senators, two in number. thus, by the rule of the majority, are all officers of town, village, and city, county and state elected, except such few as are appointed by law to offices by superior officers, heads of departments, bureaus, or districts of supervision or administration. property the ownership of property, both real and personal, and the protection of that ownership, is made possible in the organization of society--termed the government--and in the power of that government to make and enforce its laws. real property is the kind of property which pertains to land, the ownership of which is transferred from one person to another, either by a deed recorded in the office of the register of deeds in the county court house, or else transferred by descent, or by will through the { } administration of the county court, usually called the probate court. this latter proceeding is in the case of the owner's death when his property is divided by the court and distributed to the heirs--the family or other relatives according to his will; or in case no will is left the law provides for the manner of its distribution. the register of deeds: county court house the record title, therefore, of all real property is to be found in the office of the register of deeds in the county court house. it makes no difference what kind of real property it is, acre property or city property, here the title of ownership is always to be found, the books of record being always open to the public. thus when one buys a piece of real property, a home for instance, he should receive from the owner a deed and an abstract of title, which is a paper showing the title as it appears on the records, and this title when not vouched for as perfect by an abstract title company, should be passed upon by a lawyer in order that any flaw or defect therein may be made right before the deed is passed from one owner to another. in some states, however, the law does not require the owner to furnish an abstract. when the title is proved or pronounced good, the deed should at once be placed on record. personal property personal property is that form of property which in general terms is stated as movable, such as animals, furniture, clothing, tools, implements, money, stocks, bonds, mortgages, etc., the transfer of which from one owner to another is not as a rule a matter of public record, although in the case of a bill of sale--sometimes made of some forms of personal property--the county record may give evidence thereof. therefore it is, that in the matter of taxation, the tax record or assessment comes under two general heads--a tax on real property and a tax on personal property. property and government it is desirable to be a property owner so long as the government under which one lives protects one in his property ownership. the government must do two things: it must protect the person and his personal rights as a citizen, and it must also protect property and the rights of property ownership from enemies within, as from without. in order that this may { } be done and done in all fairness and justice, we elect some citizens to make laws and term them legislators. we elect others to enforce or administer the laws, and term them executives--the president, the governor, and the mayor coming under this head. we elect other citizens to enforce and interpret the laws, and we term them judges and officers of the court. in fact, it is a principle in our government that no man or set of men shall have authority in all departments of government, legislative, executive, and judicial. you will see that the constitution of the united states is divided into these three departments of government, and the state constitutions and city charters are, as a rule, likewise divided. you will understand that any property you may obtain will be valuable to you only in proportion as you are protected in your rights of ownership by the government, and that the government not only protects your property, it also protects your life and its interest as well as the life and interests of all other citizens. the building and maintenance of schools and colleges, libraries, art and natural history museums, parks, playgrounds, hospitals, etc., are carried on at the expense of the government by means of taxation, inasmuch as these things are in the interests of mankind and for its upbuilding. in the city the protection of life and property is found in one or the other of these different departments: police, fire, health, street cleaning, parks, water supply, etc.; and every good citizen should lend his hand to help in every way possible the enforcement of law in each department. citizenship in any form of government, problems are continually arising as to the rights of property and the rights of persons, and it is well for us to remember this distinction: that the end of society (and by that term we mean government) is not the protection of property, but rather the upbuilding of mankind. if we bear this in mind and act upon it as a principle in life, we shall find ourselves standing and voting on the right side of public questions. we shall also be able to mark the man in private or public life who shows by his talk or his actions that he thinks more of property rights than he does of the rights of individuals. any business that does not benefit society, but on the other hand degrades it, whether run by an individual or individuals in a firm, company, or corporation, is a business that ought by the law to be put out of existence. this is why { } the business of gambling, for instance, is made unlawful; also why the government had the right to make lotteries unlawful; also why some states (for instance new york) have passed laws making book-making at race tracks unlawful. for all of these things degrade and do not upbuild mankind. it is for every one then, to apply this principle to the town, village or city in which he lives, and determine just what stand he will take as to endorsing and protecting such business interests in his community. one is likely to find in any community men who seem to care nothing for any interests other than their own. they stand for property rights because it is for their interest to do so; but for the rights of mankind, the rights of society, apparently they care nothing. here is the distinction then between the good citizen, and the bad citizen, the desirable and "the undesirable" citizen. practical citizenship in nearly every town, village, and city of any size or importance, there is at least one individual, and usually groups of individuals, working for the "betterment of society." they are people who take an interest in the people about them and do what they can to improve the conditions of life in the community. if one were to take a survey of the whole country and make a study of the social workers--the men and the women who give freely of their time and of their money to make the world a better and happier place to live in--he would come to see that such service is a kind of service that grows out of the heart, and is the fruit of the kindly spirit which prompts the "good turn daily." in doing the "good turn daily," then, one has abundant opportunity to do his part toward the social betterment of the community in which he lives. there are so many ways that one hardly knows what to write down as the most important, because all are important. it is not alone in big things, but in the little things as well, that the really great work is done. the community--the town, the village, or the city in which one lives--has many problems to solve. the streets in the community are always interesting and one can do much in the streets to help keep them clean, attractive, and pleasing, as well as safe for the people and horses passing through. in a city where there is a large population the lives of the people are in greater danger at all times than in the country, and that is the reason why the city has to be so organized in its government that it can make special laws, or ordinances as they are { } called, for its own special protection against the dangers of city life. the policemen of a city, wherever stationed in the daytime or in the night time, are there to protect the lives and property of individuals, at street crossings, at public buildings, at theatres, in the parks, and on playgrounds; and it is the privilege as well as the duty of all citizens to help them in every way possible to do their work well. in the "good turn daily," one may be able to help in more ways than one if he is on the lookout. "a scout's honor is to be trusted" to obey the laws and to see that they are not disobeyed by others. "a scout's duty is to be useful and to help others. he must be prepared at any time to save life or to help injured persons." there are often accidents in the streets--many avoidable ones--due simply to carelessness. for instance, some boys were careless and threw broken glass bottles into the street, and a passing automobile came to a standstill because of a punctured tire. the man who owned the automobile and was driving it got out and called one of the boys on the street to come over to him. he did not call this particular boy because he thought he had thrown the glass, but because he thought he was a boy who would appreciate what he wanted to say to him. he told the boy that he had just had a new tire put on his machine and appealed to him as to whether or not he thought he had been treated right through the carelessness of the one who threw that glass into the street. the boy said no, he didn't think he had been, and, after a little more talk, added that he would do all in his power in that neighborhood to see that such things were kept out of the street in the future. that boy was in line for the making of a first-class scout, and the man to whom he had been talking, being a good scout commissioner, had won the boy, because instead of being angry, he had been kind, courteous, and friendly--all qualifications of a good scout. "a scout is a friend to animals." "yes," said a stable keeper, "i have two good horses laid up, each injured by stepping on a nail in a board in the street. you know people are awfully careless about such things." there are some people who never go out of their way to do helpful things, just as some people never go out of their way to know people, and for that reason are often alone and lonesome. it is the little things that count, just such little things as picking up from the street a board with a nail in it, and putting it aside--even that is a good turn. lincoln once said in speaking of a man whom he thought lacking in sympathy: "he is so put up by nature that a { } lash upon his back would hurt him, but a lash upon anybody's else back does not hurt him." there are many people in the world who seem to be like that man--not so many who feel that way towards mankind, possibly, but many who thoughtlessly feel and act that way toward animals. the lash on the back of an animal--the horse, the cow, the dog--hurts, and the good scout always takes the animal's part. he is kind to animals. in the city, people often become careless as to the necessary precautions against fire and for this reason many lives are lost. in all well-regulated school systems, each school building is properly provided with fire escapes and the children regularly disciplined in fire drills. proper fire precautions are not yet generally required by law as they should be in great buildings, factories, or workshops where men and women are employed in large numbers. if a scout should be employed in such a place, he might make himself very serviceable in case of a fire, because having thought of it beforehand, he would know what to do--his motto being, "be prepared." one very important thing in city life is the protection of one's health: it is essential to have good food, pure water, plenty of good, fresh air--things not always easily obtainable, but always most necessary. the scout learns through the many activities of scouting something of the market places and sources of supply for food; he has some idea as to the cost of living in his own home, and should become a good marketer himself, making himself competent to judge of the quality and prices of food. if he is wide-awake and intelligent, he knows the products of his own county as well as those of the state. he knows what food products are shipped in and sometimes finds that it would be cheaper, and more profitable as well, to produce them in his own community. an industrious scout may often make his own pocket money in this way or provide funds towards his own education. in the constitution of the united states is written this law: "no title of nobility shall be granted by the united states." the purpose of this law is to defeat any attempt to elevate one citizen above another in rank of social or political preferment. ours is a country free from the entanglements of social distinction such as mark one man or family from another by way of title or patent of nobility; and yet, in our country of uncrowned kings and unknighted men, we would not forget the real deeds of valor, the services rendered, or the victories won. for it was the purpose { } in the mind and in the heart of our fathers who framed the constitution that each succeeding generation should rise to the duties and responsibilities of the state; that the virtues of the state should not descend or be lodged in one family, or any selected number of families, but rather should be in the keeping of all the families, in the care and keeping of all the people. thus do we remember our washington and our lincoln. they served the generation to which they belonged; they lived and passed out of their generation having served the state: and all the virtues, cares, and responsibilities of the state--the government that is--they left to the generations that should come after them. and, therefore, each generation as it comes and goes must rise or fall in proportion as it raises or lowers the citizenship standard, for each generation must prove its own worth as must each individual his own virtues. practical citizenship as set forth in a letter from colonel theodore roosevelt, honorary vice-president, boy scouts of america: the outlook fourth avenue, new york office of theodore roosevelt july th, . my dear sir: i quite agree with judge lindsey that the boy scout movement is of peculiar importance to the whole country. it has already done much good, and it will do far more, for it is in its essence a practical scheme through which to impart a proper standard of ethical conduct, proper standards of fair play and consideration for others, and courage and decency, to boys who have never been reached and never will be reached by the ordinary type of preaching, lay or clerical. i have been particularly interested in that extract of a letter from a scout master in the philippines, which runs as follows: "it might interest you to know that at a recent fire in manila which devastated acres of ground and rendered , people homeless, that two patrols of the manila scouts reached the fire almost with the fire companies, reported to the proper authorities and worked for hours under very trying conditions { } helping frightened natives into places of safety, removing valuables and other articles from houses that apparently were in the path of the flames, and performing cheerfully and efficiently all the tasks given to them by the firemen and scout master. they were complimented in the public press, and in a kind editorial about their work." "during the recent carnival the services of the boys were requested by the carnival officers, and for a period of ten days they were on duty performing all manner of service in the carnival grounds, directing strangers to hotels, and acting as guides and helpers in a hundred ways." what these boy scouts of the philippines have just done, i think our boy scouts in every town and country district should train themselves to be able to do. the movement is one for efficiency and patriotism. it does not try to make soldiers of boy scouts, but to make boys who will turn out as men to be fine citizens, and who will, if their country needs them, make better soldiers for having been scouts. no one can be a good american unless he is a good citizen, and every boy ought to train himself so that as a man he will be able to do his full duty to the community. i want to see the boy scouts not merely utter fine sentiments, but act on them; not merely sing, "my country 'tis of thee," but act in a way that will give them a country to be proud of. no man is a good citizen unless he so acts as to show that he actually uses the ten commandments, and translates the golden rule into his life conduct--and i don't mean by this in exceptional cases under spectacular circumstances, but i mean applying the ten commandments and the golden rule in the ordinary affairs of every-day life. i hope the boy scouts will practise truth and square dealing, and courage and honesty, so that when as young men they begin to take a part not only in earning their own livelihood, but in governing the community, they may be able to show in practical fashion their insistence upon the great truth that the eighth and ninth commandments are directly related to every-day life, not only between men as such in their private relations, but between men and the government of which they are part. indeed the boys even while only boys can have a very real effect upon the conduct of the grown up members of the community, for decency and square dealing are just as contagious as vice and corruption. every healthy boy ought to feel and will feel that in order to amount to anything, it is necessary to have a constructive, { } and not merely a destructive, nature; and if he can keep this feeling as he grows up he has taken his first step toward good citizenship. the man who tears down and criticises and scolds may be a good citizen, but only in a negative sense; and if he never does anything else he is apt not to be a good citizen at all. the man who counts, and the boy who counts, are the man and boy who steadily endeavor to build up, to improve, to better living conditions everywhere and all about them. but the boy can do an immense amount right in the present, entirely aside from training himself to be a good citizen in the future; and he can only do this if he associates himself with other boys. let the boy scouts see to it that the best use is made of the parks and playgrounds in their villages and home towns. a gang of toughs may make a playground impossible; and if the boy scouts in the neighborhood of that particular playground are fit for their work, they will show that they won't permit any such gang of toughs to have its way. moreover, let the boy scouts take the lead in seeing that the parks and playgrounds are turned to a really good account. i hope, by the way, that one of the prime teachings among the boy scouts will be the teaching against vandalism. let it be a point of honor to protect birds, trees and flowers, and so to make our country more beautiful and not more ugly, because we have lived in it. the same qualities that mean success or failure to the nation as a whole, mean success or failure in men and boys individually. the boy scouts must war against the same foes and vices that most hurt the nation; and they must try to develop the same virtues that the nation most needs. to be helpless, self-indulgent, or wasteful, will turn the boy into a mighty poor kind of a man, just as the indulgence in such vices by the men of a nation means the ruin of the nation. let the boy stand stoutly against his enemies both from without and from within, let him show courage in confronting fearlessly one set of enemies, and in controlling and mastering the others. any boy is worth nothing if he has not got courage, courage to stand up against the forces of evil, and courage to stand up in the right path. let him be unselfish and gentle, as well as strong and brave. it should be a matter of pride to him that he is not afraid of anyone, and that he scorns not to be gentle and considerate to everyone, and especially to those who are weaker than he is. if he doesn't treat his mother and sisters well, then he is a poor creature no matter what else he does; just as a man who { } doesn't treat his wife well is a poor kind of citizen no matter what his other qualities may be. and, by the way, don't ever forget to let the boy know that courtesy, politeness, and good manners must not be neglected. they are not little things, because they are used at every turn in daily life. let the boy remember also that in addition to courage, unselfishness, and fair dealing, he must have efficiency, he must have knowledge, he must cultivate a sound body and a good mind, and train himself so that he can act with quick decision in any crisis that may arise. mind, eye, muscle, all must be trained so that the boy can master himself, and thereby learn to master his fate. i heartily wish all good luck to the movement. very sincerely yours, theodore roosevelt. mr. james e. west, executive secretary boy scouts of america, new york city. { } america my country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee i sing; land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrims' pride, from every mountain side let freedom ring. my native country, thee land of the noble free, thy name i love; i love thy rocks and rills, thy woods and templed hills; my heart with rapture thrills like that above. let music swell the breeze, and ring from all the trees sweet freedom's song; let mortal tongues awake, let all that breathe partake, let rocks their silence break, the sound prolong! our father's god, to thee, author of liberty, to thee we sing: long may our land be bright with freedom's holy light; protect us by thy might, great god, our king. --samuel f. smith, . { } the star-spangled banner o say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, what so proudly we hail'd at the twilight's last gleaming? whose broad stripes and bright stars, thro' the perilous fight, o'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming; and the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there! o say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? on the shore, dimly seen thro' the mists of the deep, where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes. what is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, as it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses? now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, in full glory reflected, now shines on the stream-- 'tis the star-spangled banner. o long may it wave o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. and where is that band who so vauntingly swore, 'mid the havoc of war and the battle's confusion, a home and a country they'd leave us no more? their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. no refuge could save the hireling and slave from the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave-- and the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave, o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. o thus be it ever when freemen shall stand between their loved homes and foul war's desolation, blest with vict'ry and peace, may the heav'n-rescued land praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation. then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, and this be our motto, "in god is our trust" and the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave, while the land of the free is the home of the brave. --francis scott key, . { } appendix boy scout equipment as stated in the chapter on "scoutcraft," for the convenience of boys who wish to secure uniforms or other equipment, the national council has made arrangements with certain manufacturers to furnish such parts of the equipment as are most needed by boys. a number of these manufacturers have taken advertising space in this book and it is desired that in case goods are ordered as a result of their advertisement they be informed of the fact. some of them have made arrangements for the distribution of material through mr. sigmund eisner, of red bank, new jersey, who has the contract for making the official uniforms. it should be remembered at all times that the sole purpose of the national council in entering into any arrangement whatever with manufacturers is to secure a low price on the very best material possible. the manufacturers have agreed to sell all the material listed in this book at a uniform price in all parts of the country. in case local dealers or agents for the national outfitter ask a price different from that given in the price list herewith, national headquarters should be notified. every effort is made to have all parts of the uniform and equipment available to scouts through local dealers. if such arrangements have not been made in your community, the national headquarters will be glad to help in making such an arrangement. many scout masters prefer to order uniforms and other supplies direct from national headquarters. in order to cover the expense involved in handling these supplies, the manufacturers in some cases have agreed to allow national headquarters the same trade discount allowed to local dealers. trade through national headquarters, if sufficiently large, will help to meet a part of the current expenses of the national organization. in this suggested list of equipment all articles marked with a star (*) may be secured either through a local dealer or by { } ordering direct through national headquarters in new york city. directions for ordering _important_: when ordering supplies care should be taken to see that the exact amount of remittance is included with the order. if check is used add new york exchange. make checks and money orders payable to boy scouts of america. all orders received without the proper remittance will be shipped c. o. d., or held until remittance arrives. [illustration: axe] * _axe_: any local hardware dealer can suggest quite a variety of good axes which may be used by the scout, but because of quality and price, the boy scout axe is suggested. weight without handle, oz. made of one piece of solid steel--special temper, axe pattern hickory handle, missionized hand forged--non-rusting finish. price cents. axe scabbard or shield, cents extra. _bandanna or neckerchief_: these are so common that every boy will recognize at once what is mean by a bandanna. the members of each patrol wear bandanas made in the colors of their patrol. these can be purchased at any local dry goods store at ten or fifteen cents each. [illustration: belts] * _belts_: any good belt will meet the scout's needs. but for his convenience the belt illustrated herewith is suggested. price cents. [illustration: breeches] * _breeches_: standard material--belt guides--pockets--full pattern-legs laced below the knee, the lacing to be covered by stockings or leggings. order by age according to following table: boys' sizes: price $ . . age-size waist seat inseam calf ankle - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / { } extra sizes: breeches above eighteen-year size will be made to order and will cost twenty-five cents more per garment. waist seat inseam calf ankle - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / [illustration: bugle] _bugle_: it is recommended that the standard bugle used in an army or drum corps be used. each patrol should purchase these from a local music store. [illustration: camp knives, forks and spoons] _camp knives, forks and spoons_: ordinary table-knives, forks and spoons may be used. an inexpensive knife, fork and spoon for use in camps, like set illustrated herewith, may be secured for about eight cents per dozen through almost any local hardware store. [illustration: canteen] _canteen_: a canteen of this design may be carried by each scout on hikes and long tramps. many army supply houses carry these in stock, where they may be secured if desired. [illustration: coat] * _coats_: standard material--four bellows pockets--standing collar-- dull metal buttons with boy scout emblem. order by age according/to following table: boys' sizes: price $ . . age breast waist length sleeve collar - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / { } extra sizes: coats above eighteen-year size will be made as extra size and will cost twenty-five cents more per garment than boys' sizes. breast waist length sleeve length collar finish - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / [illustration: norfolk coat] * _norfolk coat for scout masters_: made of standard olive drab cotton cloth, two pleats, back and front, with belt. price, $ . . _compass_: every scout should learn how to use his watch as a compass. however, should he desire to own a compass, he will find no difficulty in securing one at any local jeweler's. [illustration: drinking cup] * _drinking cup_: a drinking cup for individual use is recommended. the folding cup shown in the illustration is made of brass and is nickel plated. price cents. _drum_: the selection of this is left to each local troop desiring this piece of equipment. place your order with local music dealer. [illustration: first aid kit] _first aid kit_: this kit for the use of the individual scout can be secured through this office or the red cross society in washington, new york and san francisco. price cents. * _hats_: four hats are suggested as follows: . _boy scout hat_. olive drab felt--standard quality--detachable ties. price $ . . [illustration: boy scout hats] no. no. nos. and { } . _boy scout summer hat_. olive drab drill, inside seams reinforced with leather, eyelets in crown for ventilation, detachable ties. price cents. . _boy scout hat_. extra fine, fur felt, made for hard service. price $ . . . _scout master's hat_. quality same as above, but larger dimensions. price $ . . be sure to indicate size desired when ordering. [illustration: haversack] * _haversack_: waterproof canvas, leather straps--buckles and separate pockets--scout emblem on flap. price cents. [illustration: hospital corps pouch] _hospital corps pouch_: this pouch has been made up specially by the american red cross society and contains the following: shears tweezers carbolized vaseline pkg. safety pins wire gauze splints -oz. bottle aromatic spirits of ammonia a.r.c. first aid outfit (cardboard) -yd. packages sterilized gauze. -inch bandages. - / inch bandages triangular bandages (cartons) u. s. a. tourniquet arrange with the american red cross society for purchase of these. price $. . . [illustration: knickerbockers] * _knickerbockers_: boy scout olive drab drill, belt guides, pockets, knee buckles, full pattern. price cents. age-size waist - / [illustration: knives] * _knives_: no. , price $ . . a stag handle, brass lining, german silver bolsters and shield. large polished cutting blade, screw driver, can-opener and leather boring tool (u. s. pat. - - .) number , price cents. genuine ebony handle, brass lining, german silver bolsters and shield. large cutting blade can be opened without using the fingernail. shackle for hanging to belt. { } [illustration: lanyard] _lanyard_: this piece of equipment is so simple in construction that every scout ought to make his own lanyard. these are used for carrying the scout whistle or knife. [illustration: leggings] * _leggings_: (puttees). the style of leggings is the same as united states army puttee legging. made of best waterproof army duck. price cents. [illustration: mess kits] * _mess kits_: number . price cents. coffee or tea can, cup, stew or fry pan, with cover, one broiler two handles. number . price cents. coffee or tea can, cup, stew or fry pan, one handle. [illustration: patrol flag] _patrol flags_: the patrol flags are made from a good quality muslin or wool bunting in the colors of the local patrol. scouts make their own patrol flags. material may be purchased at a local dry goods store. the size of the flag is in. by in. emblems can be secured from national headquarters. * _ponchos_: a good poncho is almost an absolute necessity for the scout when on a march or in camp. ponchos suitable for scout purposes can be secured from local dealers at prices from $ . upward. _shelter tents_: scouts should make their own tents. directions for making tents are given in the text of this book. [illustration: shirts] * _shirts_: boy scout shirt, standard material--two bellows pockets-- open front, coat style--standard button same as coat. order by size. price $ . _summer shirts_: same as above, light weight. price cents. { } [illustration: shorts] * _shorts_: standard material--belt guides. full running pant pattern-- especially desirable for summer use. order according to age and waist measurement. price cents. [illustration: shoes] * _shoes_: any good shoe that is made up for the purpose of ease, and comfort in tramping will serve the boy scout's needs. the boy scout shoe is convenient, inexpensive and especially designed for scouting. price $ . . [illustration: signal flags] _signal flags_: these can be made from muslin or bunting which may be secured at local stores. it is recommended that each scout make his own flags. regulation sizes of the semaphore in. by in. and the morse or myer flag in. by in. as shown in illustration. [illustration: staff] _staff_: ash or bamboo, two metres, ( ft. - / in.), in length and about one and one-half inches in diameter; marked off on one side in centimetres up to one-half metre, and the balance in metres. on the other side it should be marked off in inches up to one foot and the balance in feet. the staff should have a blunt end. scouts should make their own staffs whenever it is possible for them to secure the lumber. hoe or rake handles make excellent staffs. these can be procured through any local dealer at a nominal sum. the scout staff and its uses many boys, upon taking up the scout movement, are dubious about the value of the scout staff and many friends of the movement ask "why does a boy scout carry a staff?" experience has proven it to be one of the most helpful articles of equipment. in order to show this we are reproducing, through the courtesy of lieut-gen. sir robert s. s. { } baden-powell, illustrations from printed matter used by the english boy scouts. these illustrations show a number of different ways in which the staff will prove a handy and valuable article; in fact, essential to the scout outfit. [illustration: uses of the staff.] the staff is very useful for beating out brush fires and outbreaks which occur on open heaths. wading a stream. two or three scouts grasp the staff like this. both patrol tents and tepees can be made with the aid of the staff. an improvised stretcher of coats and staves. a line of scouts linked together on a night march. when anyone falls through some ice, throw him your staff so that he can grasp it like this until you can get a rope and pull him out. when climbing gates you can give yourself a push up with your staff. for erecting a flagstaff and forming a fence, the staff is very useful. a clear view can be had by looking through a small hole drilled in the staff. measuring distances. self-defence. making splints. jumping ditches. making rafts. bridge building. climbing a mountain.--carry the staff cross-wise, and if you slip, lean inwards upon it, against the side of the mountain. the weight of your body will then drive the end of the staff into the earth, and so anchor you. levering up logs and stones. rope ladders, feeling the way over marshy ground. recovering objects floating in the water-- first tie a line to the centre of the staff. then tie a piece of string to each end of the staff, and the other ends of these strings being tied to the centre. that will keep the staff at right angles to the line that is in your hand. by swinging the staff out over the water, beyond the floating article, you will be able to draw the latter in close to shore. * _stockings_: to match uniforms, made of heavy material and suitable for scouting. price cents in cotton, $ . in wool. _sweaters_: any local clothing store will be able to secure for the scout the kind and quality of sweater needed. * _telegraph instruments_: beginners' telegraph { } instruments, to be used in learning the morse code, may be secured through any electrical supply house. the instrument illustrated, five ohms, price, $ . . _tracking irons_: excellent tracking irons can be made of / -inch heavy band iron, using the design presented here. any local blacksmith will gladly assist the boys in making their irons. * _troop colors_: made of superior wool bunting upper half, red; lower half, white. reproduction of the official badge super-imposed in green and gold. sufficient space left for troop number and name of city. size of flag, in. by in. letters to be attached by the local troop. price without letters $ . . * _trousers_: full length for scout masters: made of standard olive drab cotton cloth, belt loop. price $ . . if breeches are preferred, they may be had at same price. better quality of boy scout suits--made of u. s. army standard olive drab cloth. coat $ . , breeches $ . . _watch_: every scout should possess a good watch. no particular make of watch is recommended. the choice of this article is left entirely with the boy and may be bought through a local jeweler. _water bottle_: in some cases where the individual scout is not furnished with a canteen, the patrol may desire to carry a supply of water on the march. for this purpose water bottles capable of carrying a large quantity of water may be secured. these should be purchased through some army supply house. * _whistles_: scout standard whistle, for use in signaling by whistle. made of brass, gun metal finish, ring at end to attach to lanyard. price cents. { } suggestions for measuring name street city coat measure l--all around at breast under coat m--all around at waist under coat sleeve c to d--from centre of collar seam to shoulder seam then e--to elbow. f--to full length breeches m--all around at waist under coat leggings g--size of calf h--size of instep [illustration: scout's clothing. (tr)] { } hat size of hat size of linen collar worn answer following questions plainly: age? height? weight? books for reference this list of reference books has been prepared for the use of scouts, to supplement information given in the handbook prepared for their use. it has been the aim to give as wide a selection as possible, in order that the boy scout might not fail to find in the local public library, some book on any subject in which he may have particular interest. the list includes literature directly or indirectly related to scouting, as well as some appropriate books of fiction. for convenience the books have been listed in accordance with the subject headings of the various chapters of the handbook. some of the most experienced librarians of the country have submitted material which has aided in the preparation of this list. for this kindly cooperation, sincere thanks is given. many of the books have been carefully reviewed by someone connected with the boy scouts, and in many cases through the courtesy of the publishers copies of these books are available for reference purposes at the office of the national headquarters. suggestions for additions or improvements upon this list will be gladly received at any time. communications should be addressed to the executive secretary, fifth avenue, new york city. [transcriber's note: in the following list of books the first line is the title, the second the author, the third the publisher. the author and/or publisher may be omitted.] scoutcraft notes on scouting and reconnaissance jas. f. m. livingston london, clowes pioneering and mapmaking for boy scouts c. r. enock london, pearson scouting for boys lieut.-gen. robert baden-powell c. arthur pearson, ltd. henrietta st., london three amateur scouts jadberns lippincott the boy scouts chipman burt co. yarns for boy scouts lieut.-gen. robert baden-powell c. arthur pearson, ltd. henrietta st., london woodcraft animals american natural history hornaday animal artisans c. j. cornish longmans, green & co. animals at home lillian bartlett american book co. { } animal heroes seton century co. a wilderness dog biography of a grizzly seton scribners biography of a silver fox seton scribners claws and hoofs james johonnot american book co. dan beard's animal book and campfire stories d. c. beard scribners familiar animals and their wild kindred john monteith american book co. four-footed americans and their kin m. c. wright good hunting theodore roosevelt harper bros. habits of animals e. ingersoll half-hours with the lower animals c. g. holder american book co. haunter of pine gloom c. g. d. roberts haunters of the silences c. g. d. roberts grosset & dunlap homes, haunts and habits of wild animals i. t. johnson house in the water c. g. d. roberts jock of the bushvold sir. p. fitzpatrick longmans, green & co. jungle book kipling second jungle book kipling kindred of the wild c. g. d. roberts king of the mamozekel c. g. d. roberts krag and johny bear seton scribners life histories of north america seton scribners little beasts of field and wood cram little brother to the bear w. j. long ginn & co. lives of the fur folk m.d.haviland longmans green & co. living animals of the world, vol. i, ii, iii the university society lobo, rag and vixen seton scribners lives of the hunted seton scribners mooswa w. a. fraser my dogs in the northland e. r. young revell co. monarch, the big bear of tallac seton scribners red fox c. g. d. roberts shaggycoat c. hawkes shovelhorns, biography of a moose c. hawkes some curious flyers, creepers and swimmers j. johonnot american book co. some useful animals and what they do for us j. c. monteith american book co. { } squirrel and other fur bearers john burroughs stories of animal life c. f. holder american book co. stories of humble friends katharine pyle american book co. story of the trapper a. c. laut the romance of animal arts and crafts h. coupin and john lea lippincott the romance of the animal world edmund selous seeley & co. the wolf patrol john finnemore trapper jim edwin sandys ways of wood folk w. j. long wild animals at play seton doubleday page & co. wild animals i have known seton scribners wilderness ways w. j. long wild life in the rockies enos a. mills houghton mifflin co. wild life of orchard and field ingersoll wolf, the storm leader frank caldwell dodd, mead & co. wood folk at school w. j. long ginn & co. astronomy a field book of the stars w. f. olcutt putnam astronomy julia mcnair wright penn pub. co. astronomy by observation eliza a. bowen american book co. astronomy for everybody simon newcomb doubleday, page & co. astronomy with an opera glass g. p. serviss a study of the sky h. a. howe scribners astronomy with the naked eye p. serviss g harper bros. children's book of the stars milton macmillan co. earth and sky every child should know j. e. rogers how to identify the stars w. j. milham how to locate the stars hinds, noble & co. popular astronomy g. flammarion round the year with the stars g. p. serviss starland ball ginn & co. steele's popular astronomy j. d. steele american book co. the friendly stars m. e. martin the romance of modern astronomy mcpherson lippincott { } birds bird guide--part water birds chester a. reed doubleday, page & co. bird guide--part land birds neltje blanchan doubleday, page & co. bird homes a. e. dugmore doubleday, page & co. birds in their relation to men weed & beerborn lippincott bird life frank chapman appleton bird neighbours neltje blanchan doubleday, page & co. bird neighbors john burroughs doubleday, page & co. birds of eastern north america chapman appleton birds that every child should know neltje blanchan doubleday, page & co. birds that hunt and are hunted neltje blanchan doubleday, page & co. birds through the year a. f. gilmore american book co. citizen bird m. o. wright elo the eagle and other stories floyd brallian pacific pub. co. everyday birds bradford torrey field book of wild birds and their music f. s. mathews putnam's sons first book of birds h. m. miller second book of birds h. m. miller flamingo feather munroe how to attract the birds neltje blanchan doubleday, page & co. how to attract the birds trafton how to know the birds h. & e. parkhurst scribners how to know the wild birds of ohio dietrich lange how to study birds in birdland leander s. kyser mcclurg co. land birds east of the rockies c. a. reed lord of the air c. g. d. roberts nestlings of forest and marsh irene g. wheelock mcclurg co. our birds and hew to know them j. b. grant scribners our own birds wm. l. baily lippincott tenants of the trees c. hawkes the blue goose chase h. k. job the romance of bird life john lea lippincott short stories of our shy neighbors mrs. m. a. b. keely american book co. the sport of bird study job outing pub. co. wild birds of city parks { } fish and fishing book of aquaria bateman & bennett l. upcott gill boy's own guide to fishing j. h. keene denizens of the deep frank t. bullen revell co. familiar fish eugene mccarthy favorite fish and fishing j. a. henshall outing pub. co. fine art of fishing s. g. camp outing pub. co. fishing and shooting sketches grover cleveland outing pub. co. fishing kits and equipment g. s. camp n. y. outing co. fish stories holder and jordan half hours with fishes reptiles, and birds holder american book co. home aquarium and how to care for it eugene smith dutton the angler's guide wainwright randall the book of fish and fishing louis rhead scribners the little water folks hawkes crowell co. tricks and knacks of fishing (horton mfg. co.) water wonders every child should know j. m. thompson flowers, ferns and grasses botany julia mcnair wright penn pub. co. botany for children harriet c. cooper crowell co. common plants george o. goodall d. c. heath & co. elementary botany with spring flora w. a. kellerman hinds, noble & co. field book of american wild flowers p. schuyler mathews flora of the southern united states a. w. chapman flower guide c. a. & c. k. reed gardening for profit. p. henderson grasses, sedges and rushes of the north united states edward knoble how to collect and preserve plants and sea-weeds hinds, noble & co. how to know the ferns frances theodora parsons how to know the wild flowers parsons illustrated flora of the united states and canada n. l. britton and addison brown { } lessons with plants bailey manual of gardening l. h. bailey nature's garden neltje blanchan doubleday, page & co. new england ferns and their common allies helen eastman new manual of botany asa gray new manual of botany of the central rocky mountains john m. coulter, revised by aven nelson our garden flowers harriet louise keeler plants and their children wm. starr dana american book co. rocky mountain wild flower studies burton o. longyear southern wild flowers and trees alice lounsbery the fern collector's guide willard nelson clute the garden yard b. hall young folk's nature field book j. alden loring dana estes co. fungi edible fungi of new york charles h. peck n. y. state museum flowerless plants: ferns, mushrooms, mosses, lichens and sea weeds. e. h. hale mushrooms atkinson holt & co. one thousand american fungi mcillvain & macadam bobbs, merrill & co. studies of american fungi atkinson the mushroom m. e. hard ohio library co. the mushroom book nina l. marshall doubleday, page & co. handicraft clay modelling paul n. hasluck david mckay dynamos and electric motors paul n. hasluck david mckay electric bells paul n. hasluck david mckay electro-plating paul n. hasluck david mckay glass writing, embossing and facia work paul n. hasluck david mckay how to make baskets. mary white doubleday, page & co. leather working paul n. hasluck david mckay photography paul n. hasluck david mckay photographic cameras paul n. hasluck david mckay photographic chemistry paul n. hasluck david mckay photographic studies paul n. hasluck david mckay upholstery paul n. hasluck david mckay { } insects and butterflies ants, their structure, development and behavior w. m. wheeler columbia univ. press beehives and appliances paul hasluck david mckay directions for collecting and preserving insects nathan banks u. s. national museum bulletin everyday butterflies how to keep bees anna b. comstock doubleday, page co. how to know the butterflies j. h. and mrs. comstock d. appleton & co. insect life comstock little busy bodies marks moody harper bros. manual for the study of insects j. h. and a. b. comstock moths and butterflies julia p. ballard putnam's sons our insect friends and enemies j. b. smith lippincott our insect friends and foes b. s. cragin putnam's sons the butterfly book w. j. holland doubleday, page & co. the house-fly--disease carrier l. o. howard stokes co. the moth book w. j. holland doubleday, page & co. the romance of insect life edmund selous seeley & co. the way of the six-footed rocks and pebbles about pebbles alpheus hyatt d. c. heath & co. boy mineral collectors j. g. kelley common minerals and rocks wm. o. crosby d. c. heath & co. stories of rocks and minerals h. w. fairbanks the boy geologist at school and in camp e. g. houston the earth and its story a. heilprin the romance of modern geology grew lippincott reptiles poisonous snakes of north america leonard stejneger gov. printing office the reptile book ditmar doubleday, page & co. shells and shellfish american marine shells. bulletin no. u. s. national museum, washington { } mollusks of the chicago area f. c. baker chicago academy the little water folk c. hawkes crowell co. the lymnaedae of north america f. c. baker chicago academy of sciences the shell book julia e. rogers doubleday, page & co. west coast shells josiah keep worms and crustacea hyatt d. c. heath & co. trees and shrubs a guide to the trees alice lounsbery familiar trees and their leaves mathews field and forest handy book dan c. beard first book of forestry roth forest trees and forest scenery schwartz grafton press handbook of trees of new england dame and brooks ginn & co. handbook of the trees of the northern united states and canada hough how to tell the trees hinds, noble & co. how to know wild fruits maude c. peterson manual of the trees of north america charles sprague sargent north american trees britton north american forests and forestry bruncken putnam our native trees keeler scribners our northern shrubs harriet l. keeler our shrubs of the united states apgar practical forestry for beginners in forestry j. c. gifford school of the woods w. j. long studies of trees in winter huntington sargent ten common trees susan stokes american book co. the forest s. e. white the forester's manual or forest trees that every scout should know seton doubleday, page & co. the magic forest white grosset & dunlap the tree book julia e. rogers doubleday, page & co. the way of the woods. breck putnam's sons trees of the northern united states austin c. apgar { } the trees of california jepson the woodsman's handbook united states department of agriculture bulletin no. trees that every child should know j. e. rogers miscellaneous--woodcraft adventures in the great forests h. w. hyrst lippincott adventures of buffalo bill cody adventures of four-footed folk belle m. brain fleming h. revell a journey to nature j. p. mowbray grosset & dunlap american boys' handy book beard amateur taxidermist scorso a watcher in the woods d. l. sharp century co. bent iron work hasluck david mckay birch bark roll seton boots and saddles custer boy craftsman a. w. hall boy pioneers dan beard scribners boy's book of airships h. delacomb boy's workshop craigin boy with the united states foresters robert wheeler box furniture louise brigham century co. diomed sargent grosset & dunlap chats on photography wallington lippincott electricity fowler penn pub. co. electric instrument making for amateurs bottome electricity for boys adams electricity for everybody atkinson electricity for young people jencks electricity made easy e. j. houston and a. e. kennelly excursions thoreau houghton mifflin co. famous indian chiefs johnston field and forest handy book beard scribners four afoot barbour frank, the young naturalist castleman hurst co. frontiersman's pocketbook pocock harper's how to understand electricity onken and baker { } harper's indoor book for boys adams harper bros. harper's outdoor book for boys adams home mechanics for amateurs g. m. hopkins how two boys made their own electrical apparatus t. m. st. john in american fields and forests h. d. thoreau, et al. indoor and outdoor handicraft beard scribners jack of all trades dan beard scribners lakerim athletic club hughes last of the mohicans cooper houghton mifflin co. log cabins and cottages wicks forest & stream long trail garland making wireless outfits harrison nature study f. l. holtz scribners on horseback in virginia c. d. warner houghton mifflin co. our national parks john muir houghton mifflin co. outdoor handy book dan beard scribners outdoors, indoors and up the chimney c. mcillvain sunday school times out-of-doors m. ellsworth olson pacific pub. co. romance of modern photography gibson lippincott scholar's abc of electricity meadowcraft hinds, noble & co. scientific american boy (www.gutenberg.org/etext/ ) bond munn & co. scientific american boy at school bond scientific american reference book bond munn & co. secret of the woods wm. j. long ginn & co sportsman joe sandys taxidermy hasluck mckay the boy electrician huston lippincott the boy's book of conservation small maynard & co. the boy's book of inventions bacon doubleday, page & co. the boy's second book of inventions baker doubleday, page & co. the boy's book of model aeroplanes collins century co. the boy's book of steamships howden the camp at willow [clump] island (www.gutenberg.org/etext/ ) bond the frog book dickerman doubleday, page & co. { } the complete photographer bailey doubleday, page & co. the mountains s. e. white the open window grosset & dunlap the young electrician h. hall macmillan co. the young mechanic putnam's sons things a boy should know about electricity t. m. st. john things a boy should know about wireless st. john trapper jim sandys two little savages seton vehicles of the air longheed reilly & britton co. walden, or life in the woods thoreau houghton mifflin co. ways of nature burroughs houghton mifflin co. wilderness homes kemp outing pub. co. wild neighbors ingersoll wireless telegraphy a. f. collins woodcraft sears century co. woodmyth and fable seton century co. wonders of man and nature r. whiting woodcraft nessmuk forest & strean woodworking for beginners wheeler young folk's nature field book j. a. loring dana estes co. campcraft around the campfire c. g. d. roberts an old fashioned sugar camp p. g. huston revell co. at home in the water corson association press billy in camp carr mcclurg co. boat building and boating for beginners. dan beard scribners boat sailing kensaly outing co. building model boats hasluck david mckay camp and trail. isabel hornabrook camp and trail s. e. white outing pub. co. camp and trail methods kephart camp cookery horace kephart outing pub. co. camp fire and wigwam ellis winston co. camp fire musings w. c. gray revell camping and camp cooking bates camping and camp outfits g. o. shields camping for boys gibson association press camping out stephens hurst & co. camp kits and camp life hanks scribners { } camp life in the woods gibson campmates c. k. munroe canoemates kirk munroe canoe and boat building stephens forest and stream canoe and camp cookery seneca forest and stream canoe boys and camp fires graydon grosset and dunlap captain thomas a. scott, master diver f. h. smith comrades in camp victor chatterton co. economical cook book mrs. sarah paul john c. winston & co. every boy his own cook atkinson rice guns, ammunition and tackle money, et al. harper's camping and scouting grinnell & swan how to swim dalton knotting and splicing ropes and cordage hasluck plates accompanying canoe and boat building for amateurs forest & stream pub. co. practical rowing, with scull and sweep stevens ropes: their knots and splices kunardt swimming brewster houghton mifflin co. swimming sinclair the art of swimming nelligan the boat sailor's manual qualtrough scribners the book of camping and woodcraft kephart outing pub. co. the kidnapped campers canfield watchers of the camp fires c. g. d. roberts tracks, trailing, and signaling along four footed trails ruth a. cook james pott & co. black bear wright comrades of the trails roberts first to cross the continent brooks footprints in the forest ellis winston co. graphology howard penn pub. co. grizzly bear wright international code of signals u. s. government printing office { } northern trails (books and ) wm. j. long ginn & co. our country's flag . e. s. holden phrenology olin penn. pub. co. physiognomy lomlax penn. pub. co. return to the trails c. g. d. roberts sign language seton doubleday, page & co. the trail of the badger hamp the trail to the woods. hawkes american book co. tracks and tracking brunner outing pub. co. trail of the sand hill stag seton watchers of the trails c. g. d. roberts young trailers altsheler health and endurance body and its defences jewett confidential talks with young men sperry revell control of body and mind jewett ginn & co. daily training benson & miles from youth into manhood hall good health jewett ginn & co. health walter c. wood penn pub. co. health, strength and power sargent home treatment and care of the sick lovering otis clapp & son how to keep well wilson crowell japanese physical training hancock my system muller rural hygiene brewer lippincott chivalry adaptability ellen e. kenyon warner hinds, noble & co. adventure among red indians hyrst lippincott age of chivalry bullfinch an iron will orison swett marden crowell a skilled workman w. a. bodell revell co. aspiration and achievement frederick a. atkins revell co. aspirations and influence h. clay trumbull sunday school times book of famous verse agnes repplier boy's king arthur lanier boy's life of captain john smith johnson careers of danger and daring cleveland mofett { } character shaping and character working h. clay trumbull sunday school times character the grandest thing orison swett marden crowell co. cheerfulness as a life power orison swett marden crowell co. daniel boone, backwoodsman forbes lindsay lippincott duty ellen e. kenyon warner hinds, noble & co. duty knowing and duty doing h. clay trumbull sunday school times economy orison swett marden crowell co. every man a king orison swett marden crowell co. famous scouts johnston fidelity ellen e. kenyon warner hinds noble & co. first battles frederick a. atkins revell co. four american pioneers perry and beebe getting one's bearings alexander mckenzie revell co. good manners and success orison swett marden crowell co. he can who thinks he can orison swett marden crowell co. heroes every child should know h. w. mabie houghton mifflin co. heroes of chivalry louise maitland heroes of pioneering sanderson lippincott heroes of the storm o'connor houghton hero myths and legends of the british race m. o. erbutt crowell co. john james audubon audubon putnam john smith, gentleman and adventurer. lindsay lippincott knight errant davidson lippincott knighthood in germ and flower cox last of the great scouts wetmore lessons on manners julia m. dewey hinds, noble & co. levels of living henry f. cope revell life of kit carson ellis grosset & dunlap little jarvis seawell loyalty mcclure revell co. making the most of ourselves calvin dill wilson mcclurg co. men of iron pyle moral muscle frederick a. atkins revell co. my young man louis albert banks funk & wagnalls co. ourselves and others h. clay trumbull sunday school times page, esquire and knight. lansing peace, power and plenty orison swett marden crowell co. possibilities mcclure revell co. rising in the world or architects h. clay trumbull sunday school times practical paradoxes orison swett marden crowell co. royal manhood james i. vance revell co. { } rushing to the front orison swett marden crowell co. seeing and being h. clay trumbull sunday school times self control and its kingship and majesty wm. coe jordan revell co. self reliance ellen e. kenyon warner hinds, noble & co. stories of charlemagne church stories of king arthur waldo cutler crowell co. stories of king arthur and his knights pyle stories of king arthur and the round table beatrice clay stories of the great west roosevelt story of the cowboy hough successful men of to-day wilbur f. crafts funk & wagnalls success in life emil reich duffield co. successward edward bok revell co. talks with great workers orison swett marden crowell co. tendency james i. vance revell co. the book of king arthur and his noble knights mary macleod fred'k a. stokes the boys gughulain eleanor hull crowell co. the christian gentleman louis albert banks funk & wagnalls the crown of individuality wm. george jordan revell co. the hour of opportunity orison swett marden crowell co. the kingship of self control wm. george jordan revell co. the majesty of calmness wm. george jordan revell co. the making of a man robert elliot speer revell co. the marks of a man robert elliot speer revell co. the optimistic life orison swett marden crowell co. the oregon trail parkman lippincott the power of personality orison swett marden crowell co. the romance of early exploration williams lippincott the secret of achievement orison swett marden crowell co. the story of hereward douglas c. stedman crowell co. the vision of sir launfal james russell lowell barse & hopkins the young man entering business orison swett marden crowell co. thoroughness davidson revell co. true manhood james, cardinal gibbons mcclurg co. twentieth century knighthood banks funk & wagnalls what shall our boys do for a living charles f. wingate doubleday, page & co. { } winning their way faris with spurs of gold f. w. green and d. v. kirk young men who overcame robert e. speer revell co. first aid to the injured american red cross abridged text-book and first aid major chas. lynch backwoods surgery and medicine moody boys coastwise rideing emergencies c. v. gulick exercise in education and medicine r. t. mckenzie fighting a fire c. t. hill first aid in illness and injury pilcher first aid to the injured f. j. warwick penn pub. co. health, strength and power d. a. sargent heroes of the life-boat and rocket ballantyne heroes of the storm douglas life boat and its work lewis nursing s. virginia leves penn pub. co. our seacoast heroes daunt stories of the life-boat. mundell the beach patrol drysdale the life-boat ballantyne games book of athletic and out-door sports bingham book of college sports walter camp boy's book of sports fannie thompson century co. boys' drill regulations games for everybody may c. hofman dodge pub. co. games for all occasions mary e. blain barse & hopkins games and songs of american children newell harper bros. education by play and games g. e. johnson ginn & co. money making entertainments rook & goodfellow penn pub. co. play emmett d. angell little, brown & co. practical track and field athletics graham and clark duffield co. social activities for men and boys a. m. chesley association press outdoor games for all seasons beard scribners { } patriotism and citizenship abraham lincoln baldwin american book co. abraham lincoln--boy and man morgan american hero stories eva m. tappan houghton american leaders and heroes w. f. gordy scribners a message to garcia hubbard an american book of golden deeds james baldwin american book co. battles for the union prescott holmes henry altemus co. battle of the war for independence prescott holmes henry altemus co. boy's life of abraham lincoln nicolay century co. boy's life of ulysses s. grant. nicolay century co. civics--studies in american citizenship. sherman macmillan co. discovery of the old northwest j. baldwin essentials in civil government s. e. formyn american book co famous american statesmen sarah k. bolton crowell co. famous voyages and explorers sarah k. bolton crowell co. four american explorers kingsley american book co. four american indians edson l. whitney and frances m. perry american book co. four great americans james baldwin american book co. good citizenship julia richman good citizenship grover cleveland henry altemus co. great words from great americans g. p. putnam's son guide to united states history henry w. elson baker, taylor co. heroes of the army in america charles morris lippincott heroes of discovery in america charles morris lippincott heroes of the navy in america charles morris lippincott heroes of progress in america charles morris lippincott heroes of the united states navy hartwell jones henry altemus co. hero tales from american history lodge and roosevelt history of new york city chas. e. todd american book co. historic americans e. s. brooks crowell co. { } home life in colonial days alice morse earle grosset & dunlap how the people rule hoxie lessons for junior citizens mabel hill lewis and clark lighton houghton mifflin co. life at west point hancock putnam life of lincoln for boys sparhawk crowell & co. lyra heroica wm. ernest henley scribners makers and defenders of america anna e. foote & a. w. skinner american book co. man without a country e. e. hale crowell & co. new century history of the united states. edward eggleston american book co. north america frank g. carpenter american book co. our country's flag and the flags of foreign countries holden our country's story eva m. tappan houghton mifflin co. pathfinders of the west laut grosset & dunlap patriotic citizenship poor boys who became famous sarah k. bolton crowell poems of american citizenship brander matthews scribners politics for young americans charles nordhoff american book co. poor richard's almanac. benjamin franklin duffield co. popular patriotic poems explained murphy hinds, noble & co. potter's advanced geography eliza h. horton hinds, noble & co. stories of heroic deeds james johonnot american book co. stories of our country james johonnot american book co. story of the american merchant marine j. r. spears macmillan co. story of the great republic h. a. guerber american book co. ten boys from history sweetser, duffield co. ten great events in history james johonnot american book co. the true citizen and how to become one w. f. marwick & w. a. smith american book co. the century book for young americans brooks the citizen shaler the community and the citizen arthur dunn d. c. heath & co. the good neighbor in the modern city mary richmond lippincott the ship of state youth's companion ginn & co. the pilgrims f. s. noble pilgrim press { } the story of our navy for young americans abbott dodd, mead & co. the story of our great lakes e. channing & m. f. lansing macmillan co. the story of the thirteen colonies guerber american book co. the young alaskans hough the young citizen dole heath training for citizenship smith longmans, green co. uncle sam's business marriott u. s townsend lothrop washington and his generals headley hurst & co. washington's farewell address duffield co. when america became a nation jenks crowell co. when america was new tudor jenks crowell co. when america won liberty tudor jenks crowell co. young americans judson young continentals at bunker hill mcintyre penn pub. co. young continentals at lexington mcintyre penn pub. co. young people's history of the war with spain prescott holmes henry altemus co. miscellaneous a guide to biography burton e. stevenson baker, taylor co. american indians yonge a vagabond journey around the world franck century co. book of golden deeds catlin boy's life of captain john smith eleanor johnson crowell co. "boy wanted" w. waterman childhood of jishib, the ojibwa jenks choosing a life work l. r. fiske eaton & mains co. choosing a vocation parsons christopher carson, known as kit carson j. s. c. abbott courage charles wagner david crockett: his life and adventures j. s. c. abbott dashing paul jones frank sheridan david mckay david crockett, scout allen famous indian chiefs o. w. howard century co. first across the continent n. brooks handy parliamentary rules craig hinds, noble & co. { } heroes of the polar seas j. k. maclean lippincott how george rogers clark won the northwest r. g. thwaites incentives for life j. w. ludlow revell co. indian boyhood eastman indian fights and fighters brady indian story and song fletcher letters to american boys carruth life of david crockett e. s. ellis life of john gutenberg emily c. pearson hurst & co. life questions of high school boys jenks association press living races of mankind, vol iv and v the university society. loyalty j. g. r. mccleeve revell co. lure of the labrador wild wallace northland heroes florence holbrook houghton mifflin co. old santa fe trail h. inman pony tracks f. remington punishment of the stingy grinnell pushing to the front marden romance of early exploration williams seeley co. self-help smiles some merry adventures of robin hood. pyle scribners story of a scout finnemore starting in life fowler story of the indian grinnell success o. s. marden successful careers thaye crowell co. the american shotgun askins outing pub. co. the children's life of lincoln m. louise putnam mcclurg co. the blazed trail white the boy general mrs. e. b. custer the boy on a farm at work and at play jacob abbott american book co. the heart of the ancient wood c. g. d. roberts wessels co. the romance of polar exploration g. f. scott seeley & co. the seven ages of washington owen wister grosset & dunlap the way of an indian f. remington stories for scouts adrift on an icepan w. t. grenfell american life and adventure eggleston american book co. { } arizona nights s. e. white around the world with the battleships miller mcclurg co. backwoodsmen d. roberts black rock gordon (ralph connor, pseud) bob burton horatio alger, jr winston co. bar b. boys or the young cow punchers. edwin s. sabin crowell co. battling for atlanta byron a. dunn mcclurg co. boys of other countries taylor putnam's sons boy trappers harry castleman hurst & co. camping on the st. lawrence e. t. tomlinson cattle brands a. adams cattle ranch to college russell doubleday chilhowee boys morrison crowell co. chilhowee boys in harness sarah e. morrison crowell co. chilhowee boys in war times sarah e. morrison crowell co. cast up by the sea sir samuel w. baker hurst & co. cruise of the canoe club w. l. alden cruise of the ghost w. l. alden dale and fraser, sheep-men s. f. hamp dashing paul jones sheridan david mckay dare boys of stephen angus co a. l. chatterton co. dorymates c. r. monroe forest runners altsheler for freedom's cause t. c. harbauch david mckay fox hunting c. a. stephens hurst & co. frank in the woods castleman hurst & co. freckles porter grosset & dunlap from atlanta to the sea byron a. dunn a. c. mcclurg co. frontier boys on the overland trail. wyn. roosevelt chatterton co. general nelson's scout byron a. dunn a. c. mcclurg huckleberry finn twain hans brinker of the silver skates mary mapes dodge grosset & dunlap in the clouds for uncle sam ashton lamar reilly & britton ivanhoe scott jack among the indians. g: b. grinnell kim kipling kidnapped stevenson knights who fought the dragon edwin leslie sunday school times co. larry deeter's great search howard r. garis grosset & dunlap little metacomet hezekiah butterworth crowell co. { } little smoke w. o. stoddard log of a cowboy a. adams luke walton horatio alger, jr winston co. marching against the iroquois everett t. tomlinson marion and his men john de morgan david mckay master of the strong hearts e. s. brooks off the rocks grenfell s. s. tirnes on the indian trail egerton r. young revell co. on the old kearsarge cyrus townsend brady scribners on general thomas's staff byron a. dunn mcclurg paul revere john de morgan david mckay peggy owen lucy foster madison penn pub. co. raiding with morgan byron a. dunn mcclurg range and trail or the bar b's great drive edwin l. sabin t. y. crowell co. rip van winkle washington irving burse & hopkins robinson crusoe defoe houghton mifflin co. silent places s. e. white stories of the good green wood c. hawkes crowell co. story of sonny sahib s. j. duncan sheridan's troopers on the borders de b. randolph keirn david mckay sir raul james m. ludlow revell co. stories from life orison swett marden american book co. struggling upward alger, jr winsted co. swiss family robinson j. d. wyss talking leaves w. o. stoddard tan and freckles c. l. bryson revell co. ten years before the mast. dana, jr houghton mifflin co the air ship boys sayler reilly & britton the boy aviators in nicaragua wilbur lawton hurst & co. the boy aviators in africa wilbur lawton hurst & co. the boy aviators' polar dash wilbur lawton hurst & co. the boy aviators in record flight wilbur lawton hurst & co. the boy aviators in secret service wilbur lawton hurst & co. the boy aviators' treasure quest wilbur lawton hurst & co. the boy fortune hunters in alaska f. akes reilly & britton the boy fortune hunters in panama f. akes reilly & britton the hill horace a. vachell dodd, mead & co. the pilot cooper the pioneers cooper the spy cooper { } washington's young spy t. c. harbauch david mckay waste not want not stories clifton johnson american book co. with fighting jack berry john t. mcintyre lippincott with flintlock and fife everett t. tomlinson grosset & dunlap with sully into the sioux land joseph mills hansen mcclurg wolf hunters joseph oliver curwood bobbs, merrill co. work and win edward s. ellis a. l. burt co. { } { } { } index { } index page accidents, prevention of additions to territory of the united states a first try in tracking aim of the scout movement alaska purchase ( ) alcohol ambassadors america (hymn) american morse telegraph alphabet american morse telegraph abbreviations american morse telegraph numerals american morse telegraph punctuations american morse telegraph signal american revolution. the ( - ) - angling animals, native, wild antelope badger bear, black beaver cottontail cougar or panther coyote deer, mule deer, white tailed elk or wapiti fox goat, mountain mink moose muskrat opossum otter panther or cougar rabbit, cottontail rabbit, jack or black tailed raccoon squirrel, gray skunk weasel wild cat or bob cat wolf. gray woodchuck annapolis, md., naval academy apoplexy and injury to brain aquarium, home aquarium fish food aquarium fish nets aquarium, starting the archery arm carry , army of the united states articles of confederation ( ) a story of the trail - athletic standards, outdoor axes badges of rank chief scout chief scout camp master chief scout citizen chief scout director of athletics chief scout director of chivalry chief scout director of health chief scout stalker chief scout surgeon chief scout surveyor chief scout woodsman scout master service stripes back strangle bandanna bathing rules baths battleship maine ( ) bed. the camp beetles and wasps belts bird box bird craft - bird blind bird lists bird lunch counter bird patrol man birds, caring for birds, how to photograph birds, knowing the - birds, nesting season birds, protecting the birth of new states. the bites and stings books for reference - boy scout equipment - boy scout organization, the breeches bruises bugle building a lot cabin burns and scalds butterflies butterfly weed cabinet, president's campcraft - camera snap shots camp fire, the camp fire building camp fire fireplace camp fire story telling camp fire stunts camp lamp camp site { } page canoeing, rowing and sailing - clear weather signs clouds as weather signs cooking receipts - bacon cocoa coffee eggs--boiled, fried, scrambled, poached fish, baked frog legs griddle cakes potatoes, roast salmon on toast camp knives carrying injured canteen census of united states ( - ) taken every ten years chair carry challenge of the present character cheerfulness chief scout and staff chills chivalry - citizenship civil service, united stales. state and city civil war, the ( - ) clothing on fire--how to put out coats coffee compass confederacy, southern ( ) congress conservation constipation constitution of the united states ( ) consuls county court house courage courts of the united states cramps or stomach ache cuba ( ) "death grips"--how to break declaration of independence ( ) digestion directions for ordering dish washing dislocation diving for lost objects diving from the surface drawing tracks drinking cup drowning drum dutch in new york duty to god ear ache ears, care of eating electric accidents electric shocks, what to do emancipation proclamation ( ) emergencies, first aid for english settlements (t ) ( ) equipment - evacuation day ( ) exercise, setting-up - exercises. outdoor eye bandage eyes--care of eye--inflammation of eye--something in the fainting farragut, admiral--life story feet, care of ferns finding your latitude by the stars finger nails, care of fire by rubbing sticks. how to make fire, building the fireman's lift fires fires. how to put out--what to do first aid and life saving - first aid first aid kit first class scout fitness fits fishes - classes of identification of specimens bass, black--large mouth catfish, speckled herring, river or alewife killifish. tip minnow perch, yellow pickerel, common pike salmon, chinook sturgeon, the atlantic sucker, common white trout, brook or speckled whitefish, common marine migratory studying flag day--june th flag. the history of american ( ) flag rules observed floating florida and texas florida purchase ( ) foreign service forest fires forks fort sumter ( ) fractures, compound franklin. benjamin freezing french and indian wars, ( ) frost bite gadsend purchase ( ) games arctic expedition badger pulling bear hunt canoe tag chalk the arrow cock fighting deer hunting dodge ball dragging race { } page duck-on-a-rock far and near far sight feather football or feather blow fire lighting race flag raiding follow my leader follow the trail hand wrestling hare and hound hat ball horse and rider tourney hostile spy hunt the coon kim's game knight errantry lion hunting man-hunt, the morgan's game mountain scouting mumbly peg navajo feather dance pathfinding, games in plant race poison pole-star prisoner's base quick sight, the game of rabbit hunt relay race roadside cribbage scouting scout hunting scout meets scout scout's nose (indoors) shop window (indoors in town) shop window (outdoors in town) shoot out siberian man hunt smugglers on the border snow fort spear fights spearing the great sturgeon spider and fly spot the rabbit or far sight spot the thief stalking stalking and reporting throwing the assegai throwing the spear tilting in the water track memory treasure hunt, the treasure island unprepared plays will-o-the-wisp gas accidents gas poisoning, what to do general hints grant, ulysses s. grasses growth guam acquired ( ) hancock, john hand or flag signals handy articles in camp hats haversack hawaii annexed ( ) head bandage health and endurance - hiccough hiking and over night camps honor medals hospital corps pouch hot stone wrinkle how the great spirit was found how to become a boy scout how to get your bearings how to make pictures of tracks ice rescue indian bathing precaution indian signs and blazes individuality injuries due to heat or cold injuries when skin is broken injuries when skin is not broken insects and butterflies - insects, other ivy poisoning key. francis scott, author knickerbockers knighthood, ancient knighthood, modern knives knots every scout should know - becket hitch blackwall hitch bowline carrick bend clove hitch fisherman's bend fisherman's knot false reef or granny figure of eight knot halter, slip or running knot overhand knot. the sheet bend or weaver's knot square or reef knot sheepshank timber hitch two half hitches whipping a rope land ordinances ( ) ( ) land settlements lanyard leadership lean-to, the lee, robert e leggings letter from col. theodore roosevelt lexington and concord ( ) life buoys lincoln, abraham , louisiana purchase ( ) mad dog manners, good mariner's compass, the meadow mouse measurement, hand measuring distances medical examinations memorial day--may th menu for camp and hike mess-kits { } page mexican cession and purchase from texas ( ) military academy west point militia, naval militia, state molusca--shells and shellfish - moon, the moths mushrooms, fungi or toadstools mushrooms, common mushrooms, coprinus mushrooms, delicious morel mushrooms, inky coprinus mushrooms, puff balls merit badges agriculture angling archery architecture art astronomy athletics automobiling aviation bee farming blacksmithing bugling business camping carpentry chemistry civics conservation cooking craftsmanship cycling dairying eagle scout electricity firemanship first aid first aid to animals forestry gardening handicraft horsemanship interpreting invention leather working life saving life scout machinery marksmanship masonry mining music ornithology painting pathfinding personal health photography pioneering plumbing poultry farming printing public health scholarship sculpture seamanship signalling stalking star scout surveying swimming taxidermy naval enlistment naval academy navy of united states neckerchief neck grip new states ( - ) norfolk coat "northwest territory" nose bleed nose, care of observation, practice open outing tent - order of business--camp oregon territory acquired ( ) original territory ( ) orion pain panics, prevention of patriotism and citizenship - patrol flags patrol signs patrol work peace peace treaty ( ) - philippine islands acquired ( ) pilgrim fathers , pine island acquired ( ) pioneers. american plants, ferns and grasses - pleiades poisoning poison ivy politics ponchos porto rico acquired ( ) practical citizenship president--term of office, salary, etc. program, scout camp proper carriage property-- real. personal--relationship to government public domain purchase from texas ( ) puttees rains, signs of ration list register of deeds religion, boy scouts rememberable morse or re-morse alphabet reptiles - rescue from shore or boat restoring breathing rocks and pebbles - rocks, stratified rocks, quartz vein fossill, shells pudding-stone row boats coming alongside feathering going ashore keeping ashore { } rowing sculling steering salute, the turning. the runaway horse page sailing small boats sailing before wind sailing close to wind sailing, direction of wind sailing--flying the flag sailing--reefing sailing--right of way samoan islands acquired ( ) sanitation scout badge, the scout law, the scout motto, the scout oath, the scout salute, the scout sign, the scout virtues scout master, the scouts pledged to the flag scout staff and its uses secession of states second class scout secrets of the woods semaphore signal code shells and shell fish - shelter tents shirts shock--what to do in case of shoes signal flags signalling by flag or torch slavery sleep sleeping out of doors snake bites snakes, water moccasin southern confederacy formed ( ) spanish american war, the ( ) spanish and french speaker, house of representatives special service by boy scouts splints and sling for arm splints for broken leg splints for broken thigh spoons sports sprains staff star spangled banner, the ( ) star spangled banner, hymn stars, the state government stockings stomach ache stretcher improvised struggle for freedom sunburn sun dial or hunter's clock sun stroke and heat exhaustion sweaters swedes in delaware taxes tea teeth telegraph instruments tenderfoot tent making made easy - texas annexed three classes of scouts, the thrift throat toadstools toadstools, deadly cup toadstools, deadly amanita toadstools, destroying angel toadstools, fly amanita toadstools, hated amanita toadstools, poisonous toadstools, sure death toadstools, wholesome tobacco toothache torniquet to upper arm towns, villages and cities tracking irons tracks, tracking and signaling - the coon that showed how tracking tracking, how to learn tracking, when to learn trying it on the cat treatment after respiration begins trees. common north american - ash, white beech birch, black. sweet or mahogany birch, common or aspen leaved butternut or white walnut cedar, red chestnut cottonwood elm, white or swamp hemlock hickory, white locust, black or yellow maple, red, scarlet. water or swamp oak, red oak, white pine, white shagbark, or white hickory sycamore, plane tree, buttonball or buttonwood walnut, black walnut, white or butternut troop colors trousers twelve points of the scout law, the unconsciousness valley forge vice-president--president of senate war of washington, d. c washington, george wasps watch watch for a compass water accidents - water bottle water hints { } page waterproofing a tent water supply waves weather flags west point military academy what one boy did what scouting means what to do when lost in the woods whistles whistle signs white house white pine wig-wag or myer code will wind, how to tell direction of wireless telegraphy wireless abbreviations wireless signs wireless numbers wireless. receiving set wireless sending set woodcraft - woodlore - work not luck wounds without severe bleeding wounds with severe bleeding wrist grip yorktown, va. ( ) the country life press. garden city. n. y. [transcriber's note: the following pages are advertisements.] { } do you know this manual from cover to cover? well, here is another rule for you to memorize: "whenever hungry eat peter's chocolate" alpine climbers, hunters, campers, and woodsmen of all descriptions consider peter's chocolate the regulation food for camp or trail. it is absolutely the most sustaining; has the most delicious taste that always makes you want more, and does not create thirst. don't you go camping this summer without a liberal supply. you can get the nut chocolate or the plain chocolate as you prefer, but be sure to ask for peter's, the original milk chocolate. peter's comes in several varieties: peter's milk chocolate peter's milk chocolate croquettes peter's almond milk chocolate peter's milk chocolate with roasted hazelnuts peter's bon-bons ----------------------------------------------------------- { } world famous "scouts" now on sale! now's your chance to get the "boy scout" shoe, boys--that world famous shoe about which you have read so much in the magazines. it's making just as big a hit in this town as it has made in the big cities. boys are "wild" about them--say they never saw anything like them for baseball, running, jumping, and all outdoor sports. the "boy scout" shoe toughest, lightest, most sensible, everyday shoe made. uppers are soft as gloves. soles wear two to three times as long as ordinary soles. no linings. coolest and most healthful boy's shoe ever invented. colors olive, tan and black tell your pa that "boy scouts" outwear two to three pairs of ordinary shoes. good-luck charm free with each pair of genuine boy scout shoes write us direct if your dealer does not handle them and we will forward booklet immediately. the excelsior shoe co., portsmouth, ohio little boys', size to - / ; $ . boys', size to - / , $ . big boys' and men's, size - , $ . ----------------------------------------------------------- { } in conjunction with the boy scouts of america we have published a book called "boy scouts." the text of the book is written by mr. j. l. alexander and the illustrations are by gordon grant. it is the only illustrated book of the boy scouts. we have made arrangements with the national headquarters of the boy scouts of america to allow a commission of two cents to any patrol on each book sold for ten cents by the members of that patrol. we will send express collect, to the scoutmaster any number of these books which he thinks can be disposed of within thirty days by the boys under him. at the end of that time he is to send us eight cents for each book sold and return the remaining books. if a local organization is in need of funds to purchase pictures, furniture, uniforms or anything else needful for its rooms or activities, this affords an excellent opportunity for the boys to earn part or all of the necessary amount. this book, "boy scouts," will be sent anywhere for ten cents in stamps or coin by minute tapioca co., orange, mass. ----------------------------------------------------------- { } the soft, sure silent step of the indian, the trapper and the guide is yours in the city as well as on the trail, if you will simply attach o'sullivan's heels of new live rubber to your ordinary shoes. as you carry home with you the high, wholesome ideas of the woods, so also retain the noiseless tread of the true scout by always wearing o'sullivan heels. the best known men today are wearing these heels. they give that quiet, springy tread which shows the strong, self-reliant man. put o'sullivan's on all your shoes. cents per pair attached. we have a free booklet especially for you on the subject. o'sullivan rubber company hudson street new york ----------------------------------------------------------- { } scout's axe the official axe of the boy scout furnished with a sheath of chrome tanned leather to carryon the belt. manufactured by the makers of the famous plumb "anchor brand" tools. solid steel of special analysis, from head to cutting edge. double tempered, making a good keen edge, hard--yet tough. highest grade hickory handles, with special forest finish, which blends with the colors of the woods. the best axe that money can buy or skill produce. for use in forest or camp it is the handiest tool in a woodsman's kit. fayette r. plumb, inc. philadelphia u. s. a. st. louis. ----------------------------------------------------------- { } scout masters' manual a handbook especially prepared to aid the scout master in his work with boys. it is full of suggestions! programs for scout meetings; indoors and out, summer and winter; long term camp, scout games, etc. price cent. postpaid national headquarters fifth avenue new york, n. y. ----------------------------------------------------------- give a flood of light this -candle-power lamp projects a bright, white light feet and fulfils every lighting requirement for the camper, hunter and angler. the baldwin camp light is only - / inches high and weighs but ounces. cents worth of carbide gives fifty hours' light. can be hung up in the tent, fastened to bow of boat or worn on cap or belt, leaving both hands free. sold by leading hardware and sporting goods dealers, or sent prepaid upon receipt of regular price, $ . john simmons company franklin street new york write for this interesting booklet, sent free if you mention your dealer's name and address ----------------------------------------------------------- the official boys scout whistle loud tone heavy metal gun metal finish secure from your dealer, or mailed on receipt of price and c extra for postage. behrend & rothschild price cents broadway new york city strauss bros. & co., sole selling agents ----------------------------------------------------------- { } boy scouts and scoutmasters the hill & loper co., danbury, conn., are making a special hat for you--a hat that's built for scouting--one that will hold its shape and color and all the snap and dash that are put into it, in spite of "wind and weather." it's made to supply the increasing demand for a better boy scout hat. it's made from fine fur felt--from the same stock and by the same skilled workmen that produce the hill & loper co.'s famous "hi-lo" felt hats which are sold to the most particular trade all over the country. it's "scout" style, through and through, and built on the thorough, thoroughly honest principles that your great organization stands for. it is approved by your national council, and you'll approve it as soon as you see it and try it on. you can get one of these boy scout or scout master hats from your local dealer or from national headquarters, boy scouts of america. be sure to look for the scout seal, stamped on the sweat leather. none genuine without this seal. if there is no dealer in your locality send your size and the regular price--$ . for "boy scout" or $ . for "scout master" hat, direct to national outfitter sigmund eisner red bank, new jersey ----------------------------------------------------------- { } boy scout shoes joseph m. herman & co., of boston, the world famous manufacturers of herman's u. s. army shoes, the kind the soldiers, sailors, marines and militia wear, have created the moat comfortable and best wearing shoe for boys that ever was known. it is made on the sensible orthopedic last designed by army surgeons. the regular army stamp is on these shoes and so is the official boy scout seal. look for these marks when buying. the genuine u. s. army--boy scout shoe is made of shrewsbury leather with double sole of solid oak leather reinforced so that it cannot break away. the upper has a cool lining and is soft and pliable. this is not only the best shoe for wear that a boy can put on but is handsome and snappy--one that any boy will be proud to show to his friends. be sure to mention your size when ordering. price $ . official seal bottom stamp herman's us army shoe for boy scouts of america t. e. o'donnell inspector ----------------------------------------------------------- { } bailey's boy scout underwear consisting of knit shirts drawers and union suits made in plain and open mesh effect cloth, in olive drab regulation color, also in egyptian and white. shirts made athletic style as shown in cut. drawers finished with strong ribbed cuffs that reach just below the knee which insures comfort to wearer. union suits also made in athletic finish. sizes from to . prices athletic shirts $. athletic drawers . union suits . if you cannot get these goods from your dealer, advise us and we will mail or express them to you prepaid on receipt of price. the bailey knitting mills fort plain. n. y. n. b. boy scout underwear suggested by master charles s. bailey of troop , boy scouts of america, fort plain, n. y. showing use of shirt as a jersey ideal for use in camp. color, olive drab, matching uniform ----------------------------------------------------------- { } official equipments 'tabloid' first-aid no. , for patrol leaders and scout masters $ . no. , for scouts $ . special discount on orders for / doz. or more when ordered through the local organization. burroughs, wellcome & co. west d street new york city no. . 'tabloid' first-aid ----------------------------------------------------------- outfitters for explorers, campers, prospectors, hunters and boy scouts light weight water and rot proof tents. ask about our green tents abercrombie's camp trade mark outing clothes, camp outfits, footwear canoes, fishing tackle, guns and ammunition david t. abercrombie co., broadway, new york american agents. newland, tarlton & co., safari outfitters. nairobi, b.e. africa send for illustrated catalogue. please note name and address ----------------------------------------------------------- { } knives recommended by committee on equipment of boy scouts of america ask your hardware dealer for these knives made to cut and stay sharp two blades, ebony handle, "easy opener," brass lined, and german silver bolsters price cents made to cut and stay sharp. stag handle, large blade, screwdriver, leather punch, can opener, brass lining, german silver bolsters price $ . new york knife co. fifth ave., new york works walden, n. y. ----------------------------------------------------------- { } "it's time you owned a waltham" the watch for the boy scout as well as for the veteran. the boy of today doesn't want a clock watch bought in a notion store at the price of a toy. he wants an accurate watch bought from a jeweler--one he can take pride in and one that teaches him to respect time. an accurate time-piece, like scouting, cultivates habits of precision and punctuality. waltham watches are noted time-keepers in every grade. there are moderate priced waltham watches that keep perfect time. even low priced walthams maintain wonderful records for accuracy. the pride of owning a watch of the world-wide reputation of waltham, adds immensely to any boy's happiness. send for descriptive booklet of waltham movements or ask your jeweler. waltham watch co.--waltham, mass. ----------------------------------------------------------- { } boy scout knit union suits a new kind of underwear slip into the suit, fasten it on the shoulders--and there you are! that is the whole idea in a nutshell. a simple, sensible undergarment, easy to get into, comfortable to wear, and very serviceable. there is no "pull" or strain on any part, the suit fits smoothly and comfortably and allows free action of the whole body. only four buttons on the whole garment, and they are so well sewn that not even the most strenuous boy is apt to pull them off. boy scout union suit this label on every garment--none other genuine. made in sizes to fit every boy and youth patent applied for price. c per suit ask your store-keeper for them, if he hasn't, them, we'll supply you direct. h. l nelke & co. manufactures nelke building philadelphia ----------------------------------------------------------- { } [illustration: photograph of two scouts.] made with a brownie camera. the camera for field service: brownie easy to carry on the march; simple to operate. loads in daylight with kodak film cartridges. ideal for the equipment of every detachment of boy scouts. negatives can be easily developed in the field--no dark-room required. write for the book of brownies. eastman kodak co., rochester, n. y. ----------------------------------------------------------- { } attention scouts! dan beard one of the national scout commissioner. has written a library of scout books--books you must have for they tell all about the life in fields and forests and on rivers and streams--the things you want to know in your business. read this list the boy pioneer sons of daniel boone. illustrated by the author. $ . net "the reader is told how to take part in all the old pioneer games." --phila. press. the field and forest handy book. illustrated by the author. $ . "a book to be coveted by every active-minded boy capable of handling tools."--chicago news, the jack of all trades. illustrated by the author. $ . "any boy who is handy with tools of any sort will enjoy this book." --youths' companion, the out door handy book. illustrated by the author. $ . "it makes a man of a boy and a boy of a man."--charles dana gibson, the american boy's handy book. illustrated by the author. $ . "it tells how to make all kinds of things--boats, traps, toys, fishing tackle, balloons, rear wild birds, train dogs, etc."--indianapolis journal. charles scribner's sons new york city ----------------------------------------------------------- the national conservation association offers to boy scouts an immediate opportunity to earn good returns from useful work in a great cause by acting as subscription agents for american conservation the new illustrated monthly magazine published by the association. handsomely printed, magnificently illustrated; every article written by a recognized authority; full of interest, each month, for every thoughtful man and boy in america. write for full details of our plan for enabling boys to earn money by helping to put into more american homes a magazine in which every thinking american is interested at sight. american conservation colorado building washington, d. c. ----------------------------------------------------------- { } "be prepared" when you get your camp supplies don't forget to buy a box of "steero" bouillon cubes reg. u. s. pat. off made by american kitchen products co., new york add them to the list of supplies on page of your handbook. a box of steero cubes is the right size for six boys for a week. steero cubes will save a lot of cooking in camp. all you have to do is to put a steero cube in a cup and pour boiling water on it. you can make dandy soup for dinner, supper, or any time you're hungry. you can't help getting it just right every time, and there isn't any waste because "a cube makes a cup" send for free samples and try them at home, so you'll know just what they are. if the grocer, druggist, or sporting goods dealer doesn't have steero cubes, send c for a box of cubes, prepaid, enough to make cups. we also put them up in boxes of and cubes--they are cheaper this way. distributed and guaranteed by schleffelin & co. william st., new york under pure food law, serial no. ----------------------------------------------------------- { } scouts! chief scout ernest thompson seton has written books without which no scout library is first-rate. here is a list of them: animal heroes illustrated by the author $ . "the histories of a dog, a cat, a lynx, a rabbit, two wolves and a reindeer * * * written in a vein of fiction. yet the general habits and mode of living of the animals are accurately described."--philia. press monarch, the big bear of tallac. illustrated by the author. $ . $ net "a fascinating account of a bear family."--providence journal. lives of the hunted. illustrated by the author. $ . "there is nothing in kipling's "jungle books" more intensely dramatic and absorbing than the story of krag, the kookney ram, scotty's long hunt and its ending."--brooklyn eagle. wild animals i have known. illustrated by the author. tells the histories of such wild creatures as a wolf, a fox, a molly cottontail and others. the trail of the sand hill stag. illustrated by the author. $ . "ought to make any boy happy and will furnish him some delightful hours." --detroit free press. krag and johnny bear. illustrated by the author. cents net tobo rag and vixen. illustrated by the author. cents net charles scribner's sons new york city ----------------------------------------------------------- american red cross abridged text-book on first aid general edition by major charles lynch medical corps, united states army the attention of all boy scouts is invited to this small textbook on first aid. it is now in use by a great number of boy scout organizations throughout the country. in no respect can the boy scout better fit himself for helping others than by learning first aid and this text-book will enable him to do so in a thoroughly satisfactory manner and in the shortest space of time. the book contains everything on the subject of first aid which the boy scout ought to know and is free from technical details which serve no useful purpose and only result in confusing the student. with illustrations. xii + pages. paper cover. c postpaid can be purchased through any bookseller, american red cross society. or national headquarters, boy scouts of america p. blakiston's son &: co., publishers walnut street, philadelphia ----------------------------------------------------------- { } camping for boys h. w. gibson illustrated, cloth, $ a knapsack full of outdoor wisdom the author has put into this book his experience of twenty-two summers of actual camping with boys. the twenty-three chapters are filled with information such as this: where to go; what to take; how to layout a camp, pitch tent, build a camp fire; what to cook and how to cook it, how to get well if you eat too much of it; directions for long trips, short trips, any trip at all; something to do every hour of the day, from reveille to taps; first aid, games, nature study and that's not half. pages. pictures. ----------------------------------------------------------- at home in the water swimming, diving. water sports, life-saving. george h. corsan, swimming instructor, university of toronto. cloth, cents; paper, cents. the author has started thousands of men and boys on the way to mastery of the various strokes--under arm, over arm, crawl, etc. over one hundred practical illustrations are shown. more value for less money than can be found in any other book of the kind. "the methods of illustrating are the best that can be devised, and the pictures convey an extremely clear idea of what is meant. mr corsan's book stands with the best, of which there are few, as a most complete work."--charles m. daniels, champion swimmer of the united states, in the playground. ----------------------------------------------------------- from youth into manhood. winfield s. hall. m. d., professor of physiology. northwestern university medical school. cloth. cents, postpaid. the standard book on sexual hygiene. "it is the only book of this order which i should care to recommend. it compactly puts the physical facts of male life; adds a very valuable chapter of practical advice on personal hygiene; then stops, and lets the boy do his own thinking." --professor g. walter fiske, oberlin. ----------------------------------------------------------- life questions of high school boys j. w. jenks. cloth, cents; paper, cent. the distinguished cornell professor has given here brief discussions of habit, cheating, societies, etc., in a way that starts the boy thinking in the right direction. the boy has the brain and the will, he doesn't need anybody to think for him or to decide for him. he needs to be guided into right ways of thinking and deciding for himself. this book is such a guide. it simply says, here are two ways--which do you think is right. very well, do that. ----------------------------------------------------------- social activities for men and boys a. m. chesley, editor. illustrated, cloth, $ . a book of nearly plans and programs for cheerful occasions, gathered from all available sources. all the material has been successfully used. the book tells how to carry on receptions of different sorts; how to play interesting and original games, indoors and outdoors, in the water, as well as on land; how to promote an amateur circus or a dramatic entertainment as well as a summer campaign or outing. considerable attention is given to the organization of clubs of all kinds, civic, educational, and athletic. ----------------------------------------------------------- complete catalog sent on request association press east th street, new york the five books bound in cloth, postpaid $ . ----------------------------------------------------------- { } more ponies for boys two blooded shetlands, each with cart and harness made especially to fit the pony, will be given each month to boys who sell the saturday evening post country and city boys no matter whether your town is a large one or a small one, you have as good a chance to earn a pony outfit as has a boy in any other town or city. the ways of scoring equalize the opportunities of country and city boys. thus, harry royster, yazoo city, mississippi, earned our last pony outfit by selling only copies within two months. start now to earn your pony. your pony, guaranteed to be well-broken and safe for you to drive, will yet be full of life and a good traveler. the complete outfit is worth $ . . (you can have cash if you prefer.) if you want a pony, write at once for details and for copies of the weekly. these you can sell at five cents each. full information will be sent you with the weekly. write today. gold watches and other premiums for boys who do good work. the curtis publishing company, arch st., philadelphia, pa. ----------------------------------------------------------- { } the new boy's leather-stocking by ernest thompson seton rolf in the woods chief scout ernest thompson seton being the adventure of a boy scout with indian quonab and little dog skookum in the war of . when rolf kittering crawled out of the window of his little attic room that night to escape his infuriated and brutal uncle, there was no refuge for him to seek except the camp of his chance friend, old quonab the indian. the story of his life outdoors, of the fight with the monster snapping turtle, of the journey to the great north woods, and how the boy came to know the intimate life of the wild creatures, will make any boy's, or man's, heart beat faster with admiring envy. the most exciting portion of all is where rolf comes to put his new knowledge into practice as a daring scout during the war of . profusely illustrated and with marginal decorations by the author. fixed price, $ . by the same author two little savages. net $ . (postage c.) foresters manual. cloth. net, $ . (postage c.) paper, net, c. (postage c.) manual of signs and sign language (in preparation.) cloth, net, $ . (postage c.) paper. net. c. (postage c.) by stewart edward white the rule of the game. fixed price, $ . (postage c.) the cabin the forest. illustrated. net, $ . (postage c.) the mountains. illustrated. net, $ . (upstage c.) the pass. illustrated. net, $ . (postage c.) camp and trail. illustrated. net, $ . (postage c.) garden city doubleday, page & co. new york ----------------------------------------------------------- { } you can't be a scout unless you learn how to use your hands in useful work: carpentry, electrical work and so on. you need a guide to show you the way, for all these mechanical matters are easy when you know how, but terribly difficult to puzzle out by yourself. there's only one set of books ever published which really does this, so simply and clearly that anybody can understand it. it's called "the library of work and play" and its ten volumes tell you all most people ever need to learn about carpentry mechanics electricity outdoor work metal work gardening and farming home decoration games and sports housekeeping needlecraft cut off this coupon to-day and mail it to us and we'll send you full information of this most useful and interesting set of books. doubleday, page & co. garden city, n. y. ------------------------------------------- doubleday, page & co. garden city, n. y. sent me the booklet descriptive of the library of work and play, and containing colored plates, illustrations, etc. name _____________________________ address _____________________________ ------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------- { } the boys' magazine is unquestionably the finest magazine in the world for boys. each issue is filled with fascinating stories and absorbing articles all of intense interest to every live boy. also each issue contains departments devoted to electricity, mechanics, photography, carpentry, stamps and coins. a big athletic department, edited by walter camp is a regular feature. every one knows that mr. camp is the highest authority on this subject in the country. this department is of great value to every boy who wishes to excel in athletic sports. it will be of interest to our boy scout friends to know that we have recently inaugurated a special department devoted entirely to the boy scouts of america. the manuscript and illustrations for this department are specially prepared for us and forwarded each month direct from national headquarters. a new handsome cover in colors each month. beautifully illustrated throughout. a big bargain for only fifty cents we will send you the boys' magazine for six months and a copy of the cleverest little book you ever read, entitled, "fifty ways for boys to make money" and a "reach" base ball fielder's glove, (this glove is made of fine brown tan leather, felt padded and leather lined, patent wide hump, web thumb and deep pocket.) think of it! all the above for only fifty cents don't put this off but send in your subscription to-day. we will refund your money promptly if you are not more than pleased with your investment. (references as to our responsibility, hamlin bank & trust co., smethport. pa., or dun or bradstreet's mercantile agencies.) address the scott f. redfield co. main street smethport, pa. (the boys' magazine is on sale for c a copy at practically every news stand in america. should you prefer to purchase copies each month rather than subscribe, then your newsdealer will be glad to get our magazine for you in case, of course, he does not already handle it.) ----------------------------------------------------------- { } all boy scouts should subscribe for this best boys' magazine in the world! the american boy pages are given to the boy scout movement. its editor is a member of the national council. ernest thompson seton, the chief scout, contributes a page for each issue. and listen to this! you're a bright, up-to-date fellow, you know what's good, and you like the best of everything. but so far, you've missed the best reading--the liveliest, truest, most fascinating reading you ever set eyes on. , boys now read it. you're probably used to reading the ordinary magazines that come to the house, or newspapers or books. they are all good, but why not have a magazine all your own, that comes every month to you, addressed in your own name, and that is filled from cover to cover with stories and anecdotes, and illustrated talks and latest news on sports, and--oh, hundreds of things you want to know about--all written by the biggest boys' authors in the country. and pictures! say there are hundreds of them! beats sensational trash all hollow! subscribe today! subscription price $ . a year. address: the sprague publishing co. no. majestic building, detroit, mich. ----------------------------------------------------------- { } for the boy scouts of america remington umc . rifles repeater, single shot quickness of eye, steady judgment, self confidence--these are the characteristics of men and boys who shoot. buy a remington-umc . single shot or repeater. it is as keen a rifle for its size as the most highly developed military arm. remington-umc--single shot rifles list at $ . and up, and the boys' scout special at $ . --as shown in the illustration. it is especially built for drill use. remington-umc--repeating rifles list at $ . and up. these rifles are built in the same factory by the same experts as the famous remington-u.m.c. big game rifles. send c in stamps for a beautifully bound and illustrated history of the development of fire arms and ammunition from sling shot to present day high power repeating rifles. this book contains many intensely interesting stories of adventure. address boy scout department remington arms--union metallic cartridge co. broadway, new york * * * * * the hickory ridge boy scouts a series of books for boys which, in addition to the interesting boy scout stem by captain alan douglas, scoutmaster, contain articles on nature lore, native animals and a fund of other information pertaining to out-of-door life, that will appeal to the boy's love of the open. i. the campfires of the wolf patrol their first camping experience affords the scouts splendid opportunities to use their recently acquired knowledge in a practical way. elmer chenowith, a lad from the northwest woods, astonishes everyone by his familiarity with camp life. a clean, wholesome story every boy should read. ii. woodcraft; or, how a patrol leader made good this tale presents many stirring situations in which some of the boys are called upon to exercise all their ingenuity and unselfishness. a story filled with healthful excitement. iii. pathfinder; or, the musing tenderfoot some mysteries are cleared up in a most unexpected way, greatly to the credit of our young friends. a variety of incidents follow fast, one after the other. iv. fast nine; or, a challenge from fairfield they show the same team-work here as when in camp. the description of the final game with the team of a rival town, and the outcome thereof, form a stirring narrative. one of the best baseball stories of recent years. v. great hike; or, the pride of the khaki troop after weeks of preparation the scouts start out on their greatest undertaking. their march takes them far from home, and the good-natured rivalry of the different patrols furnishes many interesting and amusing situations. vi. endurance test; or, how clear grit won the day few stories "get" us more than illustrations of pluck in the face of apparent failure. our heroes show the stuff they are made of and surprise their most ardent admirers. one of the best stories captain douglas has written. boy scout nature lore to be found in the hickory ridge boy scout series wild animals of the united states--tracking--in number i. trees and wild flowers of the united states in number ii. reptiles of the united states in number iii. fishes of the united states in number iv. insects of the united states in number v. birds of the united states in number vi. _cloth binding_ _cover illustrations in four colors_ _ c. post volume_ the new york book company fourth avenue (near th st) new york fast nine or a challenge from fairfield complete roster, when the patrols were filled, of the hickory ridge troop of boy scouts mr. roderic garrabrant, scout master the wolf patrol elmer chenowith, patrol leader, and also assistant scout master mark cummings ted (theodore) burgoyne toby (tobias) ellsworth jones "lil artha" (arthur) stansbury chatz (charles) maxfield phil (philip) dale george bobbins the beaver patrol matty (matthew) eggleston, patrol leader "red" (oscar) huggins ty (tyrus) collins jasper merriweather tom cropsey larry (lawrence) billings hen (henry) condit landy (philander) smith the eagle patrol jack armitage, patrol leader nat (nathan) scott (others to be enlisted until this patrol has reached its legitimate number) [illustration: it was now up to matt tubbs.] the hickory ridge boy scouts fast nine or a challenge from fairfield by captain alan douglas scout master [illustration] the new york book company new york copyright, , by the new york book company contents chapter page i.--on the way home from the fishing hole ii.--a startling accusation iii.--when the challenge came iv.--the practice game with the scrub team v.--between earth and sky vi.--a question of a scout's duty vii.--more work on the diamond viii.--the punctured tire ix.--faithful to his friend x.--giving him another chance xi.--ready for the battle of the bats xii.--stealing the signals xiii.--ready for the great game xiv.--how the fight went on xv.--lil artha plants his garden in deep center xvi.--the mystery solved fast nine or a challenge from fairfield _the hickory ridge boy scouts_ fast nine; or, a challenge from fairfield. chapter i. on the way home from the fishing hole. a party of five boys, ranging in age around fifteen or sixteen, trudged rather wearily along the bank of a small stream known as the sunflower river. some miles beyond this point it merged its clear waters with those of the broader sweetwater, which river has figured before now in these stories of the hickory ridge boys. as they carried several strings of pretty good-looking fish, the chances were the straggling group must have been over at the larger stream trying their luck. and as black bass have a failing for beginning to bite just when fellows ought to be starting for home this would account for evening finding them still some distance from hickory ridge and a jolly supper. "another long mile, and then we'll be there, fellows," sighed the stoutest one of the bunch, who was panting every little while, because of the warm pace set by his more agile chums. "hey, just listen to landy puff, will you, boys!" laughed chatz maxfield, whose accent betrayed his southern birth. "he keeps getting fatter every day, i do believe," joked mark cummings, a clean-cut young chap with a clear eye and resolute bearing. "now, that ain't exactly fair, mark," complained the object of this mirth, in a reproachful tone, "and you know it. don't i take exercise every day just to reduce my flesh? why, i'm making a regular martyr of myself, my mom says, ever since i joined the boy scouts, so that i can keep my own with the rest of you. she says if i keep it up i'll soon be skin and bones, that's what!" a shout arose from the entire bunch at this. the idea of that fat boy ever reaching a point where such a term could be applied to him was simply ridiculous. "what time is it, chatz; since you seem to be the only one in the lot who had the good sense and also the decency to fetch a watch along?" the southern boy readily pulled out a little nickel timepiece, and consulted it, but the dusk was coming fast, so that he had to bend low in order to make sure of the right figures. "half past seven, fellows," he announced. "wow, won't my folks just be worried about me, though!" exclaimed a very tall boy, whose build would indicate that he was something of a sprinter; and whose name being arthur stansbury, his mates, after the usual perversity of boys in general, had promptly nicknamed him "lil artha." "i don't think they'll be alarmed, because they know a bad penny is sure to turn up," laughed mark, immediately dodging a friendly blow from the lengthy arm of his comrade. "hold on, i've lost my cap," declared the one who had dodged, but the others made no move toward stopping; supper was a mile away, and they felt hungry enough to eat a houseful. three minutes later mark came running after them, still bareheaded. "hello!" exclaimed the lad who had asked chatz for the time, and who seemed to bear the earmarks of a leader among them, as elmer chenowith really was, being at the head of the wolf patrol, and accredited as an assistant scout master in the hickory ridge boy scout troop--"how about this, mark; where's your cap?" "couldn't find it, that's all," laughed the other, good naturedly; "perhaps it went into the river. anyhow, it's getting that dark i couldn't see the thing, and as you fellows were in such a raging hurry i just gave it up." "oh, say, that's too bad," declared chatz; "i'll turn back with you, mark, if you give the word." "oh, shucks! it isn't worth it, chatz, though i'm just as much obliged to you as if we went. it's an old cap, anyhow, and even if it went sailing down the sunflower it wouldn't matter much. i've got another besides my campaign hat. and if it doesn't rain in the morning i may take a run over here on my wheel. move along, fellows; i can just imagine i smell that bully good supper that's being kept for me at our house." "yum, yum, that strikes me," exclaimed landy, whose one weakness was a love for eating, despite his declaration to the effect that he was daily cutting down his rations in order to reduce his girth. "and i happen to know they're having fried eggplant to-night. if there's one thing i just like above every other dish it's fried eggplant, and plenty of it. aw!" and he sighed to think that a whole mile still lay between himself and that beloved delicacy. "all i can say is, that it's mighty lucky we don't have a meeting to-night, that's what," remarked chatz; "because we'd never be able to get there after this long hike. but, honest, fellows, i think it paid. i never had more fun pulling out black bass than to-day. and whew, how they do fight up here! why, down in the warmer waters of my state, south carolina, we have the big-mouth bass, which the natives call green trout, and he comes in as logy as an old piece of tree stump, after about one little tussle." "but i reckon there are heaps of game fighters up in that old pond at munsey's mill," remarked lil artha. "there may be, if those fish pirates left any," declared mark. "you know the game and fish warden found and destroyed a lot of nets, even if he didn't get the italian poachers. but that's too far away from home, anyway; and i think we'll have to leave the bass that live in that pond to the ghost of the haunted mill." a general laugh followed this declaration. the scouts had recently been on a long tramp to the mill in question, an abandoned place which was shunned by all the country people for certain causes. but while they had met with sundry adventures of considerable importance while there, none of them could claim to have run across the ghost said to be in charge of the old rookery. this had been a subject of great disappointment to chatz maxfield in particular, for he secretly cherished more or less of a belief in ghosts, having probably been inoculated with the weakness as a very small boy, when he had for playmates ignorant and superstitious blacks, on the south carolina rice plantation that had been his home until recently. "hey! what did matt tubbs have to say to you, elmer?" suddenly asked lil artha. "i saw him talking like a dutch uncle when i was waiting for you to come along this noon." the boy in question was known as a bully. he lived in the neighboring town of fairfield, which adjoined cramertown, so that the two might be reckoned one continuous settlement. and strangely enough, matt's house was said to be half in one place and half in the other. matt tubbs had given the boys of hickory ridge more or less trouble in years past. he was a natural leader, and rather a tough character as well, ruling the fellows in fairfield and cramertown with a rod of iron. frequently the hickory ridge boys had been influenced to engage in friendly rivalry with those of the neighboring place, but it happened that as a rule these contests broke up in a row, and more than one pitched battle had resulted. for more than a year, now, elmer and his chums had positively refused to have anything to do with the fairfield boys. they had even turned down several invitations to bridge the chasm and start on a new deal, because they believed that so long as matt tubbs was in control, just so long would rough-house tactics be brought into play whenever the game went against the fairfield players. but lately matt tubbs had seen a new light. the organizing of the hickory ridge troop of boy scouts had inspired him with a desire to follow suit. but while he could find plenty of material in the two towns, the great difficulty seemed to be in subscribing to the twelve cardinal principles which every candidate has to profess before he can become even a tenderfoot scout. matt had in secret hovered around the meeting places of the hickory ridge fellows. in this way he had heard things that simply amazed him, and set him to thinking deeply. then he had chanced to have an experience with elmer and his followers at a time when the scouts were called on to find a little boy who had been kidnapped by his step-father, an ignorant and drink-crazed rascal. matt tubbs had been fascinated by the many things he had seen elmer do in the line of woodcraft, and then and there he had declared that he was going to subscribe to the entire list of regulations as set forth in the manual of the scouts. and elmer had given him his hand at the time, promising to do all he could to assist him get his troop started. the leader of the wolf patrol laughed softly when lil artha put this question at him so directly. "i really meant to tell you all about it," he said, "but somehow it just seemed to slip my mind, we've been having such a jolly afternoon. fact is, matt being over in the ridge on some business for his father, jumped off his wheel at seeing me, because he had some important news." "has he got his troop organized, then?" asked lil artha. "that's just what he has; seventeen fellows have already signed the roll, with a promise of several more. that makes two complete patrols, and then some. matt says they're wild over it in his town. the people are going to let them have a room in the old baptist church, and everybody promises to help along. i reckon the good people of fairfield understand that the coming of the boy scouts will mean a moral awakening in their place." "and they need it, all right," declared chatz, positively. "why, suh, i'm told that during the last seven yeahs fairfield, that used to be a model town, has become the toughest place in this part of the state. and the way matt tubbs led his gang has been the main cause. it was a rule or ruin policy. if they couldn't win a baseball game squarely they'd start a little riot, and have the umpire give it to 'em, nine to nothing." "well, i rather think that's all in the past," said elmer. "if matt does half he declares he means to do, it's going to be the biggest thing that ever happened for the boys of fairfield and cramertown. and something more, fellows. i just rather guess we'd better be brushing up all we know of the great american national game of baseball. for matt says he and his team are going to challenge the hickory ridge scouts to a big game." "hear, hear!" shouted lil artha, executing a regular hoedown to prove how joyful the news made him. "why, fellows, d'ye know i'm just wild to get in the game again against a club that really counts. all we've done this summer has been to mow down the little chaps around the ridge, and it was too easy. matt will put a team in the field worth beating, and we all know what a player he is himself when he wants to do the right thing. so i say bully, bully all around!" "do you think his turning over a new leaf will hold good," asked chatz; "or is he apt to drop back into his old ways if we happen to get a good lead, and bully the umpire into giving his side all the chances?" "well, of course i couldn't say for sure," replied elmer, "but matt seems dead set on cutting a straight swathe from now on, and there's the best chance of his doing it that ever happened, because he has simply got to choose between doing the square thing to others or getting out of the scout movement. no crooked work will go when a fellow has faithfully promised to be trustworthy, loyal, helpful to others, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient to his superiors, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent." "you're right, it won't, elmer," assented mark, positively. "and yet if matt has changed right-about face, so that he can live up to that agreement i'm ready to believe the world is coming to an end." "me, too!" echoed lil artha, who had had several personal conflicts with the bully of fairfield, and distrusted him exceedingly. "just wait and see," said elmer; and the subject was dropped as they hurried on toward the lights of hickory ridge that began to appear near by. chapter ii. a startling accusation. "now, what d'ye suppose that fellow in the carriage is beckoning to us for, elmer?" asked mark cummings, as he and his particular chum were walking along the main street of hickory ridge on the morning after the fishing trip. they had been looking up a few things in one of the stores, for mark chanced to be the grandson of a noted artist, and had himself developed a touch of genius along the line of caricature work. often when he and his chums were together, he would pull out pencil and paper and dash off some telling and humorous drawing. if a pencil were not handy mark could use a crayon, a bit of chalk or charcoal, and even a piece of fresh birch bark in case paper were lacking. and so he had been picking up a few things in his line, while elmer interested himself advising lil artha, who was selecting some plates for his new camera, as well as developing fluid, prepared paper, and several other necessities required by the amateur photographer devoted to his work. the two boys had started home together, and were in the midst of an animated conversation connected with the chances for that baseball game before the summer vacation ended, when mark chanced to hear some one calling. "why, it looks to me like colonel hitchins's rig," remarked elmer, who possibly knew the vehicle in question better than his chum. "yes, i know it is now, and the negro driver is sam white, his coachman. he seems to be beckoning to us, as sure as anything. i wonder what he wants, and if it has anything to do with diablo, the educated monkey we had all that fun with when we were in camp up on jupiter lake?" "that's so, elmer; will i ever forget what happened there, and how glad colonel hitchins was to get his tricky pet back, after he had robbed us of a lot of our good grub. but sam white has started his horses this way. let's wait here and see what he's got to say." colonel hitchins was an eccentric and wealthy man who lived beyond the environments of hickory ridge. he had once been a great traveler, and his big house was filled with trophies from every land. it was a treat for elmer to examine some of the almost numberless things the collector had gathered around him. and as a rule the colonel was favorably disposed toward the boys of hickory ridge, though there were times when some of the more malicious chaps annoyed him greatly in various ways. presently sam white pulled the two prancing horses in close to the sidewalk. "whoa, dar, youse high falutin' thoroughbr'ds from kentucky! i reckons you dun gits too much oats, dat's what; an' hit makes yuh too frisky. you am de boy belongin' tuh de cummings fambly, ain't yuh, an' yuh name am mark, i spect?" was the way the colored driver proclaimed his advent on the scene. "sure, i'm mark cummings, and you know it as well as you do your own name, sam. what's doing now?" remarked the boy, smiling. "why, yuh see, de kunnel he sez tuh me, sez he: 'sam, ef so be yuh sot yuh eyes on dat mark cummings, i'd like yuh tuh ask him tuh come up hyah right away, 'case i wants tuh see him!' dat's wat de kunnel say tuh me," the driver explained. mark glanced at his chum with raised eyebrows. "what d'ye suppose it means, elmer?" he asked, in bewilderment. the other shook his head in the negative, as though unable to hazard a guess. "it might stand for any one of a dozen things," he observed. "you know the colonel takes a heap of interest in the boys of the ridge. perhaps he wants to make some offer to them that will be to their interest. perhaps he may even intend to ask the scouts over to his house some night, and give them a great time. it would be just like him, you know." "yes," replied mark, smiling, "but in that case why send for me? you're the assistant scout master, and mr. garrabrant is in town right now, so he ought to be the one consulted. but i suppose i'd better jump in and go along. say, what's to hinder you coming with me, elmer?" "nothing that i know of," replied his chum. "and i don't suppose sam here would have any objections to my taking a ride with you. he knows i've been to see the colonel heaps of times." sam scratched his woolly pate, as if bewildered, and looked dubious. "de kunnel he sez dat mark cummings boy, sah, but seein' as it's you, i reckon it'd be all right. so jes' step in kindly, as de hosses am a bit peeved dis yar mawnin', an' wants tuh run dey haids off." accordingly the two chums entered the big open carriage, mark laying his several packages down beside him. and in another minute they were being carried at a spanking pace toward the fine estate of colonel hitchins. on the way they speculated along other lines as to what the gentleman wished to see mark about, but without being able to come to any conclusion. but never suspecting that it could be anything serious they presently allowed the subject to drop. turning in at the entrance to the grounds they passed along a drive where one could see the fancy fruit trees of which the owner was so proud. "looks like they were picking those splendid peaches, from the way the leaves lie on the ground," remarked elmer, as he pointed to a couple of trees on which there still remained a few splendidly colored and wonderfully large specimens of the delicious fruit. "um! makes a fellow's mouth water just to see 'em," declared mark. "and there's bruno chained up to his kennel back by the barns. what a big dog he is--a siberian wolf hound the colonel calls him. i don't believe i'd like to meet bruno on a dark night, and running loose." "oh, he isn't a bad kind at all," remarked elmer. "i've patted him on the head often, of course when the colonel was along. he gets loose once in a while, too, but was never known to attack anybody, though if a thief tried to enter, and he was free at the time, he might jump on him and hold him. that happened once, so the colonel told me, when he lived outside of new york city." "well, here we are at the house," observed mark. "come along with me, elmer." "think i'd better, when he only wanted to see you?" asked his chum, dubiously. "yes, come along," mark insisted. "i don't know how it is, but i've just got a hunch that i'd like to have you with me. and the colonel is so fond of you he'll be glad you've come." thus urged elmer also jumped from the vehicle. "jes' leab dem packages dar, 'case i 'spect tuh dribe yuh bofe back tuh town agin arter yuh done seein' de kunnel," said sam. "an' sense de door am open, p'raps yuh bettah jes' go long tuh de library, whar de kunnel am asittin'." "that's the ticket; come along, elmer." in this spirit, then, the two boys quickly reached the door of the library, a room which elmer knew very well, as he had spent many a pleasant evening there. mark knocked lightly on the door. "enter!" said a voice, which they knew belonged to the master of the mansion. at seeing two lads the colonel's eyebrows went up, and he glanced sharply from one to the other in a questioning way. so elmer thought it only right that he should explain. "we were walking home together when sam gave your message, colonel," he said, "and so i took the liberty of coming with my chum mark." the elderly gentleman smiled. elmer was a favorite of his, and he had taken a great interest in many of the lad's schemes and plans that had to do with the affairs of the troop of boy scouts of hickory ridge. "say nothing more about it, elmer; i'm always glad to see you"; and yet elmer noticed to his surprise that the colonel did not offer him his hand as usual. he asked them to be seated, and all the while his keen eyes seemed to be roving uneasily toward mark; and several times elmer saw him shake his head slightly. for a few minutes they talked of various things. elmer asked how the monkey was getting on, and the gentleman told them that diablo had grown so vicious that he had been compelled to send him away to the central park collection of animals in new york city. "i hated to part from the brute very much, too, but it seemed as though all the bad in his nature was coming to the surface, and he lost much of the charm he used to have for me." then to the surprise of the boys the colonel leaned forward, adding: "let me take your caps, boys." "but we can only stay a short time, sir; i promised my mother to be home at eleven, because she wants me to go somewhere with her," mark said, although he could not very well refuse to let the persistent gentleman take his cap. elmer stared when he saw the colonel actually examine the head gear of his chum. nor was his astonishment at all lessened when he heard what he said. "oh, i will not detain you more than five or ten minutes at the most, i promise you, boys. by the way, i see that both of you have the habit of fastening your initials inside your caps. i suppose most boys do that because they are apt to get their head gear mixed when they wrestle and knock around; isn't that so, mark?" "why, yes, sir, i guess that's the main reason they put the initials there," replied the one addressed, his eyes opening wide with surprise at the peculiar turn given to the conversation by the colonel. "i suppose, now, you've always done it, mark?" continued the gentleman, watching the boy's face. "for several years, yes, sir. i've had as many as five sets of initials in that time. and the habit has saved me a lot of caps, too. if a fellow claims mine, all i have to do is to point at the three initials inside, and he gives up." "h'm! like this, for instance," remarked the colonel, picking something up from behind a pile of books on his table and holding it out. it was a fairly well-worn cap, and had evidently belonged to a boy. elmer immediately sat up and began to take notice. he realized that the colonel must indeed have an object in asking mark to drop in and see him. for unless he was very much mistaken elmer had seen that same cap before, many times, and on the head of his chum! as for mark, his eyes had opened very wide as they fastened on the article the gentleman was holding out before him. "will you kindly take this cap in your hands, my boy?" said the colonel, and almost mechanically mark did so, for as yet he could not find his voice to express his mingled feelings. "please examine it, now, and tell me if you have ever seen it before," continued the colonel, whose heavy brows were lowered, as though under their shelter he were trying to analyze the emotions that chased each other across the face of the boy. mark made a pretense of looking inside and out, but it was not necessary, for the fellow who cannot instantly recognize a cap he has worn for some months must be pretty dense indeed. "well?" said the gentleman, with an interrogation point in the one word. "i know it is mine, sir, because--well, every little mark about it is familiar, even to this little triangular tear. besides, here are my initials inside--just as they are in this other cap i own--m. a. c., which stand for mark anthony cummings." the gentleman moved uneasily. it seemed as though he might be both surprised and annoyed because of this frank acceptance of the ownership of the cap. "you're quite positive there can be no mistake--that some other boy may not have the same initials?" he asked. "i don't know of a single one, do you, elmer?" replied mark, steadily. "not that i can recall just now; and besides, mark, i ought to know that cap as well as you, and i'm ready to declare it's your property. i'm only wondering how it happens to be in the possession of colonel hitchins after you lost it," elmer remarked, watching the face of the gentleman and wondering why he looked so downcast over such a little thing. "i'm sorry to hear you say it belongs to you, mark, because you are one of the last boys i'd dream of accusing of such a thing as robbery." "robbery!" gasped mark, his face turning a trifle white with the shock. "it is just that, for my premises were invaded last night by some bold thieves, who raided my choice peach trees, and almost cleaned them of the prize fruit that i would not have taken its weight in silver for. and i regret to say that this morning i found this self-same cap under those trees, where it would appear it had been accidentally dropped by one of the fruit thieves." chapter iii. when the challenge came. a silence so dense that, as elmer afterward said, it could almost be felt gripped that library when the colonel made his astonishing declaration. the two boys stared at each other in dismay. then mark once more looked down at the cap he held in his hand, as though he expected it to be given speech in order to indignantly deny the accusation. twice he opened his mouth to say something, but no sound followed. "please remember, mark, that i am not accusing you of having done this miserable thing," continued the gentleman in a softer tone; "i cannot find it in my heart to believe that you would be guilty of doing an old friend such an unkindness. but i found the cap just where i stated; it bore those initials, and i sent for you to see if you claimed it. and now, could you tell me how it chanced to come there under my prize peach trees that were robbed last night?" mark shook his head slowly. "i'm sure i can't do that, sir, because i don't know," he said. elmer opened his mouth to explain under what circumstances the cap had been lost at twilight on the preceding evening, then he thought better of it and held his tongue. it might be as well for the gentleman to conduct the examination after his own fashion. the truth was bound to come out shortly, at any rate. "since you admit that the cap is yours, mark, will you please tell me when you saw it last, for if i am right in judging what elmer just said, you claim to have lost it?" colonel hitchins continued. "why, yes, sir, i wore it yesterday afternoon when a party of us went fishing away over to the old hole where the sunflower runs into the sweetwater," mark began. "don't i know it as well as any lad," remarked the old gentleman, with a faint smile. "i was brought up here, and came back home after many years' wandering, partly on account of those recollections of my boyhood days. well, you did your fishing in the afternoon, you say. and if those bass act just the same now as they used to many years ago, they began biting just when you thought of starting back home--how about that, mark?" "just what they did, sir; and we caught nearly all we had, a good string apiece, from that time up to after six. then we couldn't stay any longer and started home. on the road, when we were about a mile or so away, and just going to leave the little sunflower stream, lil artha got to cutting up with me, and i lost my cap." "just so, as i have done many a time in the long ago. that sunflower river has memories for me i can never forget," declared the colonel, sighing. "i stopped to hunt for it, sir," mark continued, "but the evening was on, and there were more or less bushes around. besides, the fellows were drawing farther away all the time, and i didn't care much for the cap after all. so i began to think it might have just fallen into the river, and i gave it up, chasing after the rest of the bunch." "was that the last you thought of the cap?" "why, no, sir," mark went on. "this morning i ran over there on my wheel and gave another hunt, but it was no use. that made me all the more sure it must have gone sailing down the river. and you can imagine my surprise when you hauled it out just now." "strange how it came to be under my peach tree, isn't it?" asked colonel hitchins. "perhaps some fellow found it, sir, and wore it last night," suggested elmer. "ah, i had quite forgotten about you, elmer," remarked the other. "i suppose, now, you were along with your friend last evening, and knew about him losing his cap?" "i was, sir, and besides there were three others--landy smith, arthur stansbury, and chatz maxfield. and more than that, colonel, i went over to mark's house after supper, and we sat up till nearly eleven o'clock, arranging things about our scouts' baseball club; for you see we expect a challenge from fairfield troop any day now." the look of distress left the bearded face of the colonel. he thrust out a hand in his customary hearty manner. "i want you each to shake hands with me," he said; "and mark, i hope you will not feel badly because with suspicion pointing so strongly toward you, i wanted to ask you a few questions about this cap. as elmer said, no doubt some boy picked it up and left it under the tree, either accidentally or in the hope of turning suspicion toward you." "oh, i hope not that!" said mark, who could not believe in his heart that any boy in all hickory ridge could be so mean and tricky as to want to get one of his schoolmates in trouble. "no matter, i am now absolutely sure it could not have been you, and i shall not give the matter another thought. i would advise you to forget it also, if you can, my boy," and he laid a hand caressingly on mark's shoulder. "i'll certainly try to, sir," returned the boy, looking up with a smile and meeting the eyes of the gentleman squarely, as was always his wont, "but sometimes it's hard to forget things like this. i suppose i'll just bother my head about how my cap got under your tree when i lost it a mile away, up to the end of the chapter. and i reckon it will never be cleared up." "as your ten minutes are about up, mark, i won't detain you any longer," said the old traveler, "but promise me that you will come over with elmer next saturday night, and look over some of my curios. i like to have boys around me, and there's an interesting story connected with some of the strange things i've rounded up in various unfrequented quarters of this old world. you'll come, won't you, mark?" "i sure will, colonel, and be mighty glad of the chance. shall i take my old cap away with me, or do you want to place it among your curios as an unsolved mystery?" and mark laughed as he said this. "i think you had better carry it off, mark," replied the gentleman. "but unless i am lucky enough to catch the rascals who robbed me of my prize peaches last night, i'm afraid the truth will never be known. what puzzles me most of all is the fact that bruno was loose last night and never gave the alarm. he must have been off roaming, as he does whenever he manages to slip his collar and chain." he shook hands with both of them again, and when mark felt the pressure of the old gentleman's fingers, as well as saw the kindly look on his face, he felt positive that colonel hitchins had eradicated all suspicion of his guilt from his mind. sam was waiting for them, scolding his restless horses the while. and no sooner did the two boys jump into the carriage before the driver gave the word, and they were being carried out of the grounds in great style. on the way they met lil artha returning home. the tall fellow stared at seeing his two chums seated so delightfully in the elegant carriage which he, of course, recognized as belonging to colonel hitchins. he shouted something after them, but elmer only waved his hand out of the vehicle as they went on. "how about it, mark?" he asked; "lil artha will never rest until he tries to pump it all out of you. will you tell him about the cap, and how it was found?" "why not?" demanded mark, instantly. "i haven't anything i want to hide that i know of. and perhaps, if all the fellows learn about it some one may be able to give me a pointer about who could have taken this cap that i lost on the bank of the sunflower last night, and left it where the colonel found it this morning." "i see by the way you talk that there's small danger of you not bothering your brain about that mystery," laughed elmer. "well, who wouldn't, just tell me that? i'll never feel easy till i'm able to patch up some sort of an explanation, elmer. if some fellow picked my cap up, did he leave it there on purpose to get me in trouble, or was it only an accident? that's the point, you see." "oh, well, i hope you find out sooner or later," remarked elmer, who knew from previous experience how such little things worried his chum, and would have liked very well to have influenced mark to cross it off entirely. "now, let's talk about other things--that coming great game with fairfield, for instance, and what chances we have with our poor pitching staff." "rats!" cried mark. "when everyone believes that you're stronger than ever this year, and that break of yours works like a charm. i tell you fairfield will have her hands full trying to hit some of those christy matthewson slow floaters you can waft up to the rubber. they'll nearly break their necks trying, and it's going to be the greatest fun watching 'em." talking in this vein they were soon dropped in front of elmer's home. as mark lived close by he chose to leave the vehicle at the same time. "why, whatever do you suppose my folks would think?" he declared, "if they saw the cummings hope and heir driving up with a carriage and pair? not that i don't expect to tell all about this cap racket, for i've always been in the habit of letting my mother know all i do, and many the time she's advised me as no other person could." elmer sighed. he had no mother himself, and always envied this chum who was lucky enough to be possessed of such an adviser. and fortunate indeed is the boy who can go to his mother, or father, either, for that matter, to seek advice in some of the puzzling little problems that are apt to arise in the life of a lad. so the two chums separated for the time being. "see you this afternoon, then, mark?" called elmer, as the other started to hurry away, for it was very near the time he had promised to be home; and one of mark's strong points was a scrupulous regard for his word, no matter to whom given. "that's right, elmer; call for me, and we'll go down for a practice game. most of the fellows are going to come out, and perhaps we can get a scrub team to bat against us," and waving his hand once more mark hurried off. elmer looked after him. there was the light of a sincere affection in his eyes, as he shook his head while muttering to himself: "no wonder colonel hitchins knew that cap was no indication of guilt, once he looked in the face of my chum. there isn't the faintest streak of double dealing about mark cummings, and his face shows it. even if things looked ten times blacker than they do, and he said he didn't do it, everybody would just have to believe his simple word. i'd sooner take it than lots of people's bond, that's what"; and with this eloquent tribute to the honesty and fair-play qualities of his friend, elmer turned into his own place. about two o'clock elmer dropped in at mark's home. he always liked being there, for mrs. cummings was very fond of the motherless boy and made much of him. indeed, she never ceased being thankful that mark had found a chum with such high principles; for while elmer was a boy all over, full of fun and ready to take a joke with the rest, he had drawn a line for himself, beyond which nothing could ever tempt him to pass. "ready?" he asked, upon bursting into mark's den, where he found the other engaged in some sort of sketching. he immediately threw everything aside. with the call of the diamond in the air what boy, who loved baseball, could resist or allow any other pursuit to hold him in check? so together they presently went out, mark having hastily donned his baseball suit. it was the regulation hickory ridge uniform, and had been carried by the players of the town for years past, long before such a thing as boy scouts had ever been thought of. possibly the only real mark that distinguished the members of the troop when on the diamond was, first their badge with the significant words: "be prepared," such as all scouts in good standing are entitled to wear; and second the little totem telling that they were members of the wolf, the eagle, or the beaver patrol. once they reached the field where the games were held they found fully fifty of the town fellows on hand, some tossing the ball, others batting flies for a host of catchers. it was soon arranged. among the fellows who did not, for various reasons, belong to the scouts there happened to be some pretty good timber for the several positions on the field. and johnny kline was the one to act as captain. johnny was a good player, but addicted so much to strong slang that he despaired of ever being able to make good in the troop, and kept putting off the day when his application for membership would go in. "now we're all ready, elmer," said mark, who caught for the regular team. "yes, let's get down to business," remarked lil artha, who, besides being a cracking good first baseman, was also a field captain. "just wait a minute, please," said little jasper merriweather, "for here comes mr. garrabrant, and he looks like he might be bringing us some great news." "hey! bet you that old challenge has arrived!" shouted red huggins. "and you win, hands down, red," declared the fine-looking young man who gave more or less of his time to the affairs of the troop, on account of the deep interest he had in boys in general, "because you see that is just what i am holding in my hand. so close in and listen while i read it to you!" "hurrah! now will you be good, fairfield?" shouted lil artha, waving his cap. chapter iv. the practice game with the scrub team. "i received this by special messenger not more than half an hour ago," remarked the scout master of the hickory ridge troop. "was it felix wagner, the second baseman of fairfield, who brought it?" asked lil artha; "because i saw him on his wheel pass our house just before i came out." "i believe he did say that was his name," replied mr. garrabrant, "though i didn't bother asking him, and might not even have remembered it only for your mentioning the same. hurry along, landy, if you want to hear the challenge read." "well, i do now, the worst kind, even if i ain't on the regular team," replied the fat boy. "something might happen to one of our fellows, and then perhaps they'd give me a show. i know i'm a little clumsy, but i'm improving all the time and can run half a mile now without breathing _very_ hard." "hold your horses, landy, and give mr. garrabrant a show!" called one. "yes, we want to hear about the challenge; we can listen to your talk any old time, landy. you'll be with us some time yet," added another. the scout master held up his finger, and instantly every sound ceased. even the boys present who did not belong to the regular scouts understood that mr. garrabrant enforced obedience, and were ready to yield it with the rest. besides, even if they did not play on the team, they belonged in good old hickory ridge, and the interests of the town were dear to their boyish hearts. "mr. roderic garrabrant, scout master, "boy scouts troop of hickory ridge. "we, the newly organized boy scouts of fairfield and cramertown, having made up a team composed wholly of the members of our organization, do hereby challenge you to a game of ball on the afternoon of monday the twentieth of august, to settle the question of championship on the diamond between our different organizations. no one not a scout in good standing to participate in this match game. please settle this matter at your earliest convenience, and send us a reply, so that the game may be advertised. it will be played at three o'clock upon the neutral field of basking ridge, the home nine there having disbanded. "signed by the committee, "felix wagner, "adrian cook, "john bastian, "matthew tubbs, _chairman_." no sooner had mr. garrabrant finished reading this communication than a great uproar broke out. two dozen tongues wagged at the same time. everybody seemed to have something to say on the subject, and while most of them applauded the tone of the challenge, there were numerous suggestions in the air. again did the scout master hold up his hand. "silence!" hissed lil artha, with both hands motioning at the same time. "mr. garrabrant says be still, fellows!" called another. when it was so quiet they could almost have heard a pin drop, the scout master once more addressed the fifty-odd boys around him. "please remember," he said, pointedly, "this is a matter that concerns only the boy scouts. i expect every other fellow to keep the utmost silence while we talk it over. you are being handsomely treated in being allowed the privilege of staying here and listening to what we have to say. now, scouts, what is your pleasure about this courteous challenge?" "i move that it be immediately accepted, and the time be set as monday next at three in the afternoon, and the game to come off on the basking ridge diamond," suggested mark. "second the motion!" followed lil artha, quickly. "any remarks before the motion is put?" asked mr. garrabrant, smiling as he looked at the eager faces by which he was surrounded. "are we to take it for granted that the basking ridge people would allow us to come over and use their diamond, sir?" asked elmer. "that is a point well taken," replied mr. garrabrant, "and i will say for the general information that i asked the messenger about that very thing. he assured me that the fairfield people have the written consent of the owner of the ground at basking ridge. and the people of the town are just wild for the game to come off there. they are starved for good baseball, since their club broke up early in the season. so that point is disposed of. any other question, boys?" "there is only to be this one game, i understand it, suh?" queried chatz. "only this one game," replied the gentleman. "and the club that wins will be known as the champion team of the boy scouts league in this part of the state--is that it, suh?" the southern boy went on. "i so understand it," mr. garrabrant answered. "there isn't anything said about umpires, suh; and we've found in the past that if we want to have a square deal the umpire should never come from either of the towns playing in the game," chatz declared, positively. "i took the pains to ask the messenger about that," said mr. garrabrant, smiling, "for i realized that half of our trouble in the past has come from having a partisan umpire. but the messenger who carried the challenge said that home-run joe mallon, who belongs to the tri-state league, is home in basking ridge, waiting for a broken arm to heal, and that he'd gladly do the umpiring. you know he used to be an umpire long before he got to playing ball. so that question is fixed, too. any more?" "question! question!" shouted a number of the scouts, eagerly. when the motion, to the effect that the challenge of the fairfield nine be unanimously accepted, was put, it met with not a single dissenting vote, and mr. garrabrant called it settled. "the committee will go with me immediately following the game to-day, and after we have drafted our answer we'll get it over to fairfield to-night, if i have to borrow somebody's car to do it," declared the scout master. then the cheers broke out in earnest. every boy in all hickory ridge would be circulating the great news before night. little need there would be to go to any expense in getting out posters when there was such a splendid circulating medium close at hand. "now let's start play!" called chatz, impatient to see whether elmer would put in that tantalizing slow ball such as always proved such a tempting bait to the ordinary batter, causing him to swipe the air fiercely, besides losing confidence in himself meanwhile. in a short time the scrub game began. johnny kline was on the firing line for the scrub, and he certainly had some speed along with him that day, for he sent them in "scorching hot," as lil artha declared. however, it seemed as though elmer and his chums just lived on speed, for they nearly every one fattened their average of batted balls that eluded the vigilant fielders. of course, with everything favoring the regular team, they soon began to pile up runs, while sensational fielding on their part cut the hard-working scrub team out of several tallies. after the game had run through seven innings it was called because the hour was getting on toward six. "and we have a meeting to-night at which the committee will report," said mr. garrabrant. "how does the score stand now?" asked an outsider who had been away most of the time after the fourth inning, and only just returned when they came in off the field. "seven to one, in favor of the scouts," some one replied. "it would have been a shut out only for ty collins out in center letting that swift fly pass him, that johnny kline made his home run on," replied another. "all the same it was a hard-fought game, fellows," remarked the genial scout master, who knew the outsiders felt very sore over their inability to hit elmer, and whose nature it was to soften hard blows for the under dog. "if it had been any other pitcher we'd have knocked the stuffing out of him, and that's no lie," asserted the captain of the scrub nine, defiantly. "my team had their batting eyes along, but that balloon ball fooled us every time. it's sure the finest ever, and i see poor old fairfield's finish if ever she gets up against elmer this year." "i see you found your old mouse-colored cap again, mark," remarked lil artha. "glad you went back after it this morning. was beginning to be afraid you might put in a claim against me for a new lid, because i was the cause of your losing that one." several others heard what was said, and, of course, boy-like demanded to know what lil artha meant; so he simply said mark lost his cap while scuffling near the bank of the sunflower river, while they were on their way home from fishing on the preceding evening at dusk. both mark and elmer had arranged it between them to keep on the watch and see if anyone appeared to be any ways surprised at mark wearing the familiar gray cap. but so far as they were able to notice the matter caused only a slight passing ripple, and was then apparently forgotten. if the party who had found the cap, and later on deliberately left it under the prize peach trees of colonel hitchins, in order to get mark in bad odor with that gentleman, were present, he had the shrewdness to avoid showing any feeling of astonishment that would naturally come to him on seeing the owner of the cap wearing it again, with the utmost indifference. "nothing doing, elmer," whispered mark to his chum, in rather a disgusted tone, when they found themselves apart from the rest of the homeward-bound players and spectators. "if you mean with regard to finding out who had your cap, i guess you hit the nail on the head," chuckled the other. "either the fellow wasn't there, or else he was smart enough to keep a straight face, and take no interest in your old cap." "then i don't wear it again, i tell you," remarked the other. "it's pretty punk anyhow, and whoever had it, started to tear the lining out. just see how it's torn, would you?" elmer took the cap and glanced at the badly used interior. "it is, for a fact," he remarked, as a look of intelligence flashed across his face, only to vanish again. "looks like it had been through the war. are you sure the lining wasn't torn that way when you lost it, mark?" "not one bit, i give you my word. but enough of that. the thing haunts me if i happen to wake up in the night. d'ye know i just see before me that one question: 'who found mark cummings's cap?' but never an answer comes, and i keep groping in the dark. perhaps some day i may happen on the answer, elmer, or you may, for you're always so smart at solving riddles." "perhaps i may, mark, and if i do you can just bank on it i'll be telling you the first thing," laughed the other. "well, i should guess you would," declared mark. then others joined them, and the conversation became general; of course, pretty much all of the talk being in connection with the coming battle with the strong fairfield team that had given them so hard a tussle two years ago. "but we're twice as strong now as then, boys," said mark. "we didn't have our prize pitcher then, and some of us have improved a heap in that time." "so has matt tubbs and several of his nine," declared ty collins, who played center. "they beat the rochesters early in the season, when the regulars were practicing. don't you believe for one minute we're going to have a walkover. the fairfield team's a hustling lot, they tell me, and always working for runs. they're bigger than our men every way." "they can be as tall as the housetops," chuckled lil artha, "and that won't help one bit to meet up against elmer's benders, or engage that balloon ball he has learned to throw just as good as christy matthewson ever did." "oh, what rotten stuff!" mocked elmer, though of course he could not help feeling satisfied with the confidence which his teammates seemed to repose in him. a short time later they reached the borders of the town, where they divided up in smaller groups, according to where their homes chanced to lie. "remember the meeting to-night, boys!" had been the last words of mr. garrabrant, and a number who did not belong to the scouts wished they had the nerve to put in an application right away, for they did seem to have such glorious times. when elmer parted from his chum, and walked on to his own home, he was nodding and muttering to himself somewhat in this style: "yes, perhaps i _may_ have some news for mark about that blessed old cap before a great while goes by, because i've got my suspicions. but now it's mum as an oyster for me." chapter v. between earth and sky. on the following morning about ten o'clock elmer was passing along the road a short distance from his house, carrying quite a good-sized package, when he heard his name called from the rear. turning around, he discovered the tall, angular form of lil artha hurrying after him and making motions as though he wanted to overtake him. "hello! were you looking for anyone?" laughed elmer, as the long-legged chap covered the intervening ground at a great rate and joined him. "well, i was just on my way to your house to ask you something when i glimpsed you turning the bend. so i put on a little steam, and here i am," replied the one who was considered by all odds the best walker among the scouts, barring none. "why, yes, i'm on my way over to mr. bailey's with something he wants, and which my father has just run across. thought i'd take the short cut through his patch of woods, as it cuts down the distance a third. if you haven't anything else on hand just now, what's to hinder you going along, lil artha?" "nothing that i can see," replied the party who received the invitation, falling into step at elmer's side. "and if you feel tired carrying that big package just heave it over to me; i'll spell you." "oh, it looks heavier than it really is, but i'll take you at your word if i feel that way. now, what was it you wanted to see me about?" it proved that the long-legged first baseman had been doing considerable thinking in connection with the coming game of baseball. he believed he had discovered a way where a few little changes in the batting order and such things would add materially to the strength of the team. this was a subject very close to elmer's own heart, and he was ready and willing to talk about it in and out of season. so the two boys walked along the road debating the matter seriously. lil artha had prepared himself to back up his claims with all the shrewdness of a lawyer advancing his ease before a jury, and knowing how enthusiastic the other was when he had a subject in his mind elmer was very careful not to allow himself to be carried off his feet by such eloquence. such a little thing as the arrangement of the batting order has won and lost innumerable games of baseball. some fellows, once they manage to reach first base, are almost certain to get around, if one or two sure pinch hitters follow. and since lil artha knew the peculiarities of the hickory ridge fellows much better than elmer did, because the latter was a comparative newcomer, he was in a position to give advice. of course, as field captain, lil artha had the right to make changes himself, but he wanted advice from the pitcher, with whom he worked in common for the good of the team. when they came to the spot where the short cut through the woods began elmer turned into the path. lil artha had insisted on taking over the package that was going to mr. bailey, and as the trail was exceedingly narrow in places elmer was compelled to step ahead. he kept turning his head as he listened to the arguments advanced by his comrade, and occasionally made a reply. they were now in the midst of the bailey woods, known all over the region as the finest and most extensive grove within some miles of town. on this warm august morning it was cool under those big trees, and one of elmer's reasons for taking the short cut now became apparent, since the dusty road promised a hot walk as well as a much longer one. squirrels barked as they played among the branches above; birds whistled, crows flapped their wings and cawed solemnly at being disturbed in their caucus; a timid rabbit darted out of a patch of brush, stopped to observe the intruders, and then bounded away as though not very much frightened; for this being close season the report of a gun was as yet an unheard thing in bailey's woods. all at once elmer came to a sudden stop, so that lil artha, intent on the point he happened to be arguing at the time, almost ran into his comrade. "what's the matter--stub your toe, or get a bug in your eye?" he asked, as he clutched the package tighter to prevent its dropping to the ground. "not a bit of it," replied elmer; "but what in the world do you suppose that queer sound can be?" now that his attention was called to it, lil artha also detected the noise which had attracted his chum's notice. "what d'ye think it could be, now?" he asked, turning a look of wonder on elmer. the other shook his head as though puzzled. "i thought i knew every animal you could find in these woods, and the sound of his grunt or squeal, but that's a new one on me," he remarked. "i tell you," said lil artha, after listening again intently; "it must be a pig, that's what. there, didn't that sound just like a big grunt, and wasn't it followed by a squeal? one of bailey's hogs had sneaked out of its pen and is rooting around. perhaps it's got into trouble. we'd better investigate this thing a little, don't you think, elmer?" "i think so a heap," replied the young scout leader; "because that last grunt didn't have a piggy sound at all to me, and i give it to you straight." "then what do you reckon it was?" demanded lil artha, with added interest. "more like a groan," remarked elmer, starting on again. "a groan--you mean a real human groan?" exclaimed the tall boy. "say, now, that would mean somebody might be hurt over there." "then the sooner we find out the better." elmer answered over his shoulder. they had little difficulty in tracing the course of the sounds. and the further they advanced to the left of the path the louder the singular combination of sighs, groans, and grunts became. "i know this place, all right," whispered lil artha, presently. "i've been here more'n a few times, elmer. there's the queerest hill just beyond you ever saw. it's got one face shaved off just like it had been split, and half of it carried away. us boys call it echo cliff. i've been up on it lots of times. gee, it's sure a jump down to the tree tops below!" "yes," elmer remarked, "i remember hearing about it now, though i've never been up on it, perhaps some poor fellow has tumbled over the edge, and is lying with broken bones among the trees." "ugh, you give me a cold shiver!" lil artha said. "but p'raps he didn't fall all the way down, elmer, because, seems to me those awful sounds come right out of the air up yonder." "that's just what they do," muttered the other boy, in a puzzled tone; "but come on, and we'll soon find out the worst." resolutely he led the way and lil artha followed. no matter what dreadful thing might suddenly meet their sight, elmer would not be deterred now. "listen!" whispered lil artha, as he gripped the shoulder of his comrade; "he's talking to himself, elmer. where under the sun d'ye suppose he can be? it don't stand to reason that he's up on the top of echo cliff, because that's farther off." elmer gave a chuckle, and when he turned his face around his companion saw that he seemed to be shaking with laughter. "i think i've got on to it, all right!" said elmer. "well, let me in, won't you?" pleaded lil artha. "you look like you wanted to burst out laughing, and just didn't dare. if a human life is in danger i don't see what there is funny about it." "tell me first, is there an open place just below this echo cliff you talk about?" asked the other, in the same low, cautious voice. "that's just what there is," lil artha replied, readily enough. "many a time i've dropped chunks of rock down, just to see 'em smash on the ground below." "that settles it, then; he was trying it out," remarked elmer, nodding. "hey, what d'ye mean?" demanded lil artha. "trying what out? and who d'ye think it is? tell me that, elmer." "come here with me; i believe i see him, all right," remarked the other. "follow my finger now; notice that thing moving up yonder in that little old tree? now it kicks like all get out. you'd think a fellow had gone up there to take lessons in swimming. well, that's _him_!" "who?" demanded the other, imperatively. "a fellow by the name of tobias ellsworth jones, known among the boys by the more familiar name of just plain toby," chuckled elmer. "wow, now i'm beginning to get on, elmer!" exclaimed the tall boy, excitedly. "you remember toby is just crazy to fly like the wrights and all the other bird men who sail through the air in their aeroplanes?" "sure he is," commented lil artha; "haven't i heard him tell about what wonderful things he was goin' to do some day, to make the name of jones famous? say, honest, now, i believe you've hit her right, elmer. toby _has_ been trying it out! and that big flapping thing up yonder in the tree top must be his wonderful parachute he's been talking about this long while. say, i believe the silly must have dropped off echo cliff!" "that's what he did," remarked elmer, "and instead of lighting in that nice little open place, as he meant to, the wind just carried him into the top of a tree!" "and he's caught up there right now--caught by his trousers seat mebbe, and kicking to beat the band. i don't wonder he grunts and groans and talks to himself. now what d'ye think of that for a loon? why, he might have broken his leg if he had fallen on those stones! what're we going to do about it, elmer?" as usual lil artha was only too willing to have his companion take the lead in suggesting action. some boys seem to be just fitted to occupy the position of guide, and their mates soon come to rely on them exclusively. elmer occupied that position, and so lil artha looked to him in this emergency. "why, we've got to get him down out of there, that's flat," returned elmer. "he's our comrade; and scouts must always help their fellows, or anybody else, for that matter, when in distress. let's move on a little farther and give him the high sign." all this talking had been carried on in such low tones that the sound of their voices could hardly have reached the ears of the ambitious aviator, who was caught in the tree, fully thirty feet from the ground, unable to break away, and confronted by a nasty drop if he did succeed in separating his garments from the branch that had gripped him. they could now see that what elmer had suggested was indeed the truth. a boy was flapping at a great rate, his arms and legs going at the same time, as he tried his best to squirm around so as to get at the seat of the trouble, but apparently without success. after each tiresome struggle he would give vent to a new series of those queer grunts and sighs, and then do some more talking to himself. above him, and just barely caught on the tree top, was a strange affair that had somewhat the appearance of a big umbrella, made out of canvas or muslin. a number of holes had been punched through the parachute by its descent through the branches, so that taken altogether, the brave would-be aviator and his apparatus seemed just then to be in a state of collapse. elmer waited until the squirming had ceased, with one last groan as of despair. then he gave the signal of the wolf patrol, as only one who had actually heard the long-drawn howl of the timber wolf in the darkness of a canadian northwest night could imitate it. evidently the sound stirred toby to new life, for his movements began again. he tried to make an answering signal, but the sound was more like the bleat of a lost calf than anything else. however, it answered its purpose, which was to let the comrade below, who had come to the rescue, understand that his presence was known. "hello! up there, what are you doing to that tree?" called lil artha, who could not keep from trying to extract some fun out of the situation for all its gravity. "better ask the tree what it's adoin' to me!" wailed toby, who had managed to whip himself around so that he could now catch a glimpse of the boys below. "hey, elmer, and you, lil artha, get me down out of this first and have your fun afterward! i'm as dizzy as an owl in daytime, and if my pants give way i'm going to squash flat! come up here and grab me, can't you? tell you all about it later on. what i want now is sympathy and brotherly kindness, don't you see?" chapter vi. a question of a scout's duty. "he's right," said elmer, energetically, as he prepared to climb the particular tree that bore such strange fruit. "toby's hung there so long that all the blood's just going to his head. come along, lil artha; drop that pack and follow me up there. we can rescue him, all right, if we're smart." they went up among the branches like a couple of monkeys, both being good climbers. and presently they were close to where poor toby was dangling, watching their movements feverishly. his face was very red, and he did not look very comfortable as he swung there, without any hold above or below. lil artha was immediately reminded of the stirring piece which he had himself recited in school more than once--about the captain's little boy on board a ship in a harbor, who daringly climbed to the very top of the mainmast and stood up on the main truck--"no hold had he above, below; no aid could reach him there!" in that case the captain had shouted to the boy to jump far out, so that he might strike the water, and they would pick him up, which in the end the little fellow did, and was saved; but the same advice would not apply with regard to poor toby, for he could not jump no matter how much he wished to, and it was hard ground below and not soft water. but elmer sized the situation up as soon as he arrived. he saw that by good luck the branch that held toby up was a solid one, and would bear considerable weight, so that it was safe to crawl out on it. "i'll go and get within reach of him," he said, quickly. "you brace yourself, and be ready to pull him in when he drops. and toby, make a grab for that branch just below when you feel yourself going, understand?" "yes," groaned the other, "i guess i can make it all right, elmer. but say, what you goin' to do now?" as he saw the other taking out his pocket knife, opening the largest blade, and then gripping the tool between his teeth so that he might have the free use of both hands. "i've got to cut you loose, you know; don't worry, toby," replied the other, with such assurance in his steady voice that he unconsciously gave the dangling boy new courage. "we're going to bring you down; only try to help yourself by getting hold of that branch, see?" "i will, elmer, you just bet i will!" toby answered. a minute later and elmer was bending down above toby. he had to brace himself against a sudden shock, for he knew what the result must be, once toby's weight was cast loose so that the limb could spring back. "ready everybody?" elmer sang out. "sure!" answered lil artha, taking a new clutch on the garments of toby, with one of his legs twined about the tree trunk so as to better hold his own when the shock came. "ready, elmer; let her go!" said toby, weakly but gamely. fortunately that knife blade was as keen as a razor. elmer always made it a point to keep his knife in the best condition possible at all times, and this was one of the occasions where he felt amply repaid for his foresight. one circular sweep, and the thing was done. toby dropped like a plummet. his hands were outstretched and, as he had planned, he gripped the branch just below; but had it depended wholly on toby's ability to maintain his hold, he must have gone plunging down, banging against the various projections until he finally brought up on the ground, lucky if he escaped broken ribs or collar bone. but lil artha was there like a young gibraltar. he could not be moved, since his left leg was twined around the tree trunk. so he swung toby inward and gave him a chance to get his breath, while elmer was hurrying down to assist. between them they managed to right toby, who was soon panting as he squatted in a friendly fork of the tree. "now let's get down to the ground," said elmer, who did not seem to think that he had done anything very much out of the common in rescuing the ambitious would-be aviator. "oh, elmer, just wait a minute!" exclaimed toby, entreatingly. "what ails you now?" demanded lil artha. "can't you get your nerve back yet? say, we'll give you a hand down, toby, all right. just depend on your fellow scouts." "it ain't that, lil artha," declared toby; "but while you're about it, why won't you make a clean sweep of the thing, a double rescue so to speak?" "well, now, did you ever hear the beat of that?" laughed the tall boy. "he wants us to risk our precious lives cutting his old umbrella machine loose above there, so he can just take chances again. that's nervy, all right." "but lil artha," continued the other, persuasively, laying a hand on the sleeve of the tall scout, "don't you see that it's only held slightly? if you could cut that rope, and break that small branch off, i believe the whole outfit would have to fall to the ground. elmer, ain't that so?" of course elmer was compelled to admit the fact, for the parachute was only lightly held, after its adventurous passage through the tree tops. so lil artha, grumbling somewhat, though obliging, proceeded forthwith to climb farther aloft until he could use his knife on the cord that seemed to be helping to retard the downward progress of the parachute. "now break that branch, and she's just bound to drop, lil artha!" cried toby, who was keenly alive to the fate of his beloved airship. "there she goes, fellows! what did i tell you? whoop! sailed down as soft as a thistle ball! that's the ticket. bully boy, lil artha! i will never forget this of both of you. some day mebbe i'll have a chance to take you up with me in my balloon!" "nixy, never, not me!" declared the tall boy, as he came scrambling down from his elevated perch. "the ground's good enough for this chicken. if i ever dropped from this height, whatever would happen to my bones, tell me that? now, let's see if you can climb down, toby." toby proved to be all right again, now that he had regained an upright position, and the blood ceased to gather in his head. he made a decent job of it, dropping down the tree. lil artha kept close beside him, to guard against any accident, for, as he said, he "didn't want to have his work all for nothing, and let toby get a broken leg after he had once been safely rescued." they all arrived on the ground under the tree about the same time. toby's first thought seemed to be in connection with his beloved parachute, and, of course, he started for the spot where the broken umbrella-like apparatus lay, upside down; as lil artha declared, "for all the world like a duck that, being shot in the air, had fallen on its back." hardly had the unfortunate toby taken half a dozen steps away than lil artha suddenly burst out into shrieks of laughter that caused the other to whirl around in his tracks and look at him in astonishment. "what ails you, now, i'd just like to know, lil artha?" he demanded. "you sure act like you'd gone bug-house. say, elmer, is he crazy, or can it be the reaction set in after his daring feat in grabbing me?" "turn around!" yelled lil artha. "let elmer see the air hole he made. oh, my! oh, me! but don't you feel cold? ain't you afraid of a draught, toby?" toby apparently suddenly began to understand, and as his hand went back of him a grin broke over his face. "oh, murder!" he ejaculated, "he cut out the whole seat, and these are my newest trousers, too! won't i get it, though, when mom sees what's happened? and i don't dare tell her how it was done, because she wouldn't let me keep on studying about aeroplanes and such. whatever am i going to do now!" "i'd advise you to get an awning before you show yourself in town," jeered lil artha. "if any of the scouts see you, toby, they'll sure think you're flying a flag of truce. but don't you blame elmer for your troubles, hear? he did the only thing there was open to him. and if he hadn't happened to have that sharp knife along, you might be hanging up there yet and for some time to come; get that?" "sure, and i'm making no kick," replied toby, with a grimace. "reckon i pulled out of a bad scrape lucky enough. wow! thought at one time my goose was cooked! but it's all right now, it's all right, boys!" "yes," sang lil artha, "everything is lovely, and the goose hangs high, or he did up to the time his chums happened along and yanked him down. but it was a good thing for you, toby, elmer here happened to be sent over to mr. bailey's house, and concluded to take the short cut through the woods." "well," remarked toby, philosophically, and boy fashion, "i always heard it was better to be born lucky than rich, and now i believe it." "come along, lil artha," said elmer; "we've got business on hand, you remember, and can't waste any more time here. but i hope toby won't think of trying to drop down from the top of echo cliff again." "not if he knows it," returned the other, whose face was scratched in several places from contact with twigs during his crash into the tree. "next time i try out any of my inventions i'll make sure to pick a place where there ain't any plagued trees. perhaps i might try a jump from the old church tower some fine day. that would make the people of sleepy old hickory ridge stare some, hey?" "i sure think it would," returned lil artha, as he stepped off after elmer; "and your folks in particular. i see you're in for a heap of trouble, toby, with these fool notions of yours. it'll be a good thing if you get cured before you're killed." "that's a fact," called out toby, with one of his grins; "because it wouldn't be much use after that same thing happened, hey?" elmer was chuckling as he walked along. "never will forget how toby looked as he kicked, and pawed, and tried to get hold of something," he remarked to his companion. "same here, elmer," replied the other, shaking with merriment. "but all the same it was a ticklish thing for toby, and what you might call a close shave," declared elmer, thoughtfully. "whew, i wouldn't like to take the chances of a thirty-foot drop like that, if the branch broke or his trousers tore!" lil artha remarked. "and after all toby ought to be thankful that they were new goods and not rotten stuff." "think of his nerve in jumping off that high cliff," said elmer, shaking his head, as though the idea appalled him. "that fellow is getting too daring. i wouldn't be much surprised if he did try to drop down from the church tower some fine day if this thing isn't nipped in the bud." "then perhaps we ought to tell, elmer?" suggested lil artha. "you mean, let his folks know about the narrow call he had here to-day?" "yep. seems to me it's kind of our duty to inform his dad. another time, perhaps, toby won't be just so lucky. and elmer, if he got smashed or had his legs broken, you and me would feel like we was guilty, ain't that so?" "i'll think it over, lil artha," replied the other. "i hate to tell on a chum, but this is something out of the ordinary. it may mean toby's life, for all we can tell. and on the whole i think his folks ought to know." "he won't blab on himself, that's dead sure," remarked the tall scout. "sounded like he didn't mean to, for a fact," elmer continued. "tell you what, i'd have given a heap to have been around just then, elmer." "you mean when he took the jump? it must have been a bit thrilling for a fellow to deliberately drop off such a high place. but toby's got the nerve, only sometimes it seems to me he's reckless. and that's a bad thing in anyone who wants to sail around through the air regions." they went on exchanging opinions, and in due time arrived at the bailey house, where elmer delivered his charge to the owner of the big woods. on the way back they neither saw nor heard anything of toby, though they could easily imagine him hard at work trying to get his broken parachute in shape, so that it might be transported back to town, and fixed up for another exploit. it would not be in boy nature to keep such a remarkable story secret, and before night it had likely traveled from one end of hickory ridge to the other in about a dozen different shapes. some even had it that toby had flown a mile before being caught in a tree, while others had him a wreck, with all the doctors in town trying to patch him up. but elmer went straight to mr. jones, and gave him the true version, so that he might not be alarmed at anything he heard. chapter vii. more work on the diamond. when lil artha showed up on the field that afternoon, clad in his old baseball suit that showed the wear and tear of many a battle, he had his camera slung over his shoulder with a strap. "want to take the nine in action?" asked elmer, as he noted this fact, and paused in his delivery of the ball to the catcher, mark cummings. "oh, i might, if the signs were right, and they showed that they deserved all that sort of attention," replied the tall scout, "but i've made up my mind about one thing, elmer." "what might that be?" asked the other, smiling at his friend's seriousness. "i'm going to carry this little box around with me day and night, that's what. just the time you want it most you haven't got it along," declared lil artha, with a look of sheer disgust. "well, i always heard that a fellow could see all sorts of game when he didn't happen to have a gun," laughed elmer; "and i suppose the same thing goes with a camera. but i can guess what's ailing you now, my boy." "of course you can," grinned the other. "say, just think what it would mean to you and me if we only had a picture of toby jones kicking the air up in that old tree, and learning to swim! wow, no chance of us ever getting the blues while we had that to look at! it would have been the funniest ever. and to think it's all lost to us, just because i was silly enough to leave my box at home. shucks!" "don't suppose toby would pose it over again, do you?" suggested larry billings, who was passing a ball with matty eggleston, the leader of the beaver patrol, and one of the reliables in the nine. "well, hardly," lil artha replied. "i reckon toby got enough of hanging that time to last him right along. is he here this afternoon?" "sure he is, and as chipper as ever. only grins when anybody tries to josh him about flying. nothing ever feases that feller. he comes up again after every knockdown, as fresh as a daisy. says he's going to give the old town a sensation some day before long. and he means it, too," remarked one of the other boys near by. elmer and lil artha exchanged meaning glances, and presently the latter managed to whisper to his companion of the morning: "did you do it, elmer?" "i asked my father what i ought to do, and he sent me over to tell mr. jones the whole story, because all sorts of yarns were going around, and he said toby's mother might hear something awful had happened, and be frightened." "and what did mr. jones say?" continued lil artha. "he laughed a little," replied elmer, then looked serious like. "i rather expect he'll put a crimp in toby's flying business after this, though up to now he's rather encouraged the boy, thinking it was smart in him. now he sees the danger. but get out in the field, and throw in a few from first, old fellow." the scene was an animated one, with boys in uniform and without, banging out high flies, passing balls, and exercising generally. it really seemed as though every one in the town who could get off must be there that afternoon to see how the hickory ridge team gave promise of playing when up against the strong fairfield nine. girls had come down in flocks, and not a few men were present, among whom elmer noticed his old friend, colonel hitchins. this fact caused him to remember something, and the sight of his catcher, mark cummings, fitted right in with his thoughts. apparently mark had also noticed the presence of the colonel, for after throwing up his hand as a signal that he had had enough of practice for the time being, he advanced toward elmer, and was presently speaking in a low tone to him. "see who's here, elmer?" he asked. "well, i notice a lot of mighty pretty girls for one thing," smiled the other. "you know i don't mean them, or any particular girl," replied the catcher, who was a singularly modest lad as well as a handsome one. "over yonder in that bunch--the old colonel!" "oh, yes, i noticed him a bit ago," remarked elmer. "but that isn't surprising. he's always taken a heap of interest in boys' sports, and used to play baseball many years ago, he says, when it was a new game. he told me he was in a nine that played the old cincinnati reds the first year they ever had a league. and that was a long time ago, mark." "you're right, it was, elmer; but when i saw the colonel it reminded me that so far i haven't done anything about finding out how that lost cap of mine happened to be picked up under his peach trees, when i dropped it a mile away, over on the bank of the sunflower." "i heard that two men had been arrested, charged with stealing those peaches," elmer remarked. "yes, that's so, for they were silly enough to sell the fruit to phil dongari, the man who keeps the biggest fruit store in town. colonel hitchins could tell his prize peaches anywhere, so he went and bought them back again; and getting a line on the men, had them put in the town cooler, where they are yet." "just so, mark; that's ancient history," smiled elmer; "but as you say it doesn't do the first thing along the line of explaining how your cap got under those same trees, does it?" "but, elmer, i'm relying on you to get a move on and find out something before the trail gets cold," argued mark. "that sounds pretty fine, my boy," observed elmer; "but what makes you believe i can do anything to help out? you've got all the advantages i have." "that's so," admitted mark; "only i'm a greenhorn about following a trail, and you know heaps. besides, something in your manner seems to tell me you've already got a hunch on about this thing." "oh, that's the way you look at it, eh?" mocked elmer. "yes, i haven't been going with you all this time not to know how to read your face and actions," replied mark, boldly. "and it's my honest opinion right now that if you chose you could put your finger on the culprit." "thank you for your confidence, my boy; but i'm not quite so dead sure as you make out," returned elmer. "but you _think_ you know?" protested mark. "i believe i've got a good clew; i admit that, mark." "were you over there again?" demanded the other. "now you're referring to where you lost your old cap, i take it?" elmer said in a noncommittal way. "that's just what i mean--over on the bank of the sunflower, where lil artha began kidding me, and in consequence my cap fell off. you rode over on your wheel, didn't you, elmer?" "well, yes, i did," the other admitted; "but not like you, to look for the cap, because at the time i went i happened to know it had been found, and you had it at home." "then why should you bother going all that way over a rough path? hold on, let me change that question, because i see why you wanted to look over the ground. did you find anything there to tell you who picked that cap up?" and mark looked directly in the face of his chum. "if i did you needn't expect that i'm going to tell you about it till i'm good and ready," laughed elmer. "and that will be inside of twenty-four hours, perhaps. this is saturday, and by monday night i hope i'll be in a position to show you something interesting. just bottle up till then, my boy. and now there's the scrub team going out, so we have lost the toss and must take our first turn at bat." mark knew that it would be useless trying to urge his chum to relent. elmer no doubt had some good reason for holding off longer. so, although he was very anxious to learn the solution of the mystery connected with his cap, mark put the matter out of his mind for the time being and prepared to play ball. the game was, as before, hotly contested. johnny kline, as captain of the scrub, bent every energy to beating the regulars, and pitched as he had never done before. but elmer was also in fine fettle on this bright saturday afternoon. his speed was better than ever; and when in pinches he floated the ball up in one of those tantalizing drops, he had the heaviest slugger guessing and beating the air in a vain attempt to connect. the crowd numbered several hundreds, and they were as ready to applaud any clever work on the part of the scrub players as lil artha's team. and with such a host of pretty high-school girls present every fellow strove to do his best in order to merit the hand clapping that followed every bit of fine play. for five innings the score stood at nothing to nothing. elmer was equal to each and every crisis, and somehow the boys back of him did not seem able to solve the puzzling delivery of johnny kline any better than the scrub team did that of the scout pitcher. in the sixth there came a break. lil artha led off with a rousing two bagger, and the next man up, who happened to be chatz maxfield, sent him to third with a clever sacrifice, for which he was noted. then along came red, who was equal to the emergency, and whipped out a tremendous fly which the fielder caught handsomely, but tumbled all over himself in so doing; and of course the long-legged first baseman had no difficulty in getting home before the ball could be returned to the diamond. indeed, lil artha was such a remarkable runner that once he got his base his club counted on a tally three times out of four. that broke the ice, and in the innings that followed the boys took sweet revenge on johnny's benders, smashing them to all parts of the field until the spectators were roaring with laughter and a halt had to be called to let the overworked fellow in center come in to get a reviving drink of water. the result of the game was a score of eleven to two, and neither of these runs for the scrub were earned, but presented to them on errors in the field. "it looks good to me," remarked red huggins, as he and several others of the scouts plodded homeward after the conclusion of the game. "if we can do as clever work on monday as we did this afternoon, those fairfield giants won't have a show for their money." "and that's what we're going to do, just you make your mind up to it," declared lil artha. "and to think what a great catch our toby made when he had to run and jump into the air for that liner. shows he's all to the good, no matter if he did get such a bounce this morning. we'd miss him if he took a notion to fly away between now and monday p.m.," and the speaker cast a side glance toward the right fielder, who was limping along, talking over the game with ty collins. "oh, there are several good fellows just waiting for a chance to break in!" declared red; "larry billings, for instance, who can hit 'em some; jack armitage, who is nearly as swift as lil artha on the bases; and george robbins, who knows how to rattle a pitcher to beat the band. i guess we don't need to worry, since we've got plenty of good material handy in case of accidents." "but toby isn't going to fail us," asserted elmer. "he's too good a scout not to know his duty in this crisis. for we've just got to beat that fairfield crowd this time, or we'll never hear the end of it." "don't worry, fellows; if we play like we did to-day we'll have their number, all right. wait till you see how elmer teases their heavy batters with that drop of his! there'll be need of a lot of dope after the game, for the arms that swing nearly out of joint swiping the air. wow, don't i wish to-morrow was monday, though!" and lil artha gave further emphasis to his wrought-up feelings by a certain gesture that was one of his peculiarities. "i've heard lots of people say hickory ridge never had so fast a nine before," remarked matty. "thspare our blushes, pleath!" laughed ted burgoyne, who could never conquer that hissing habit that caused him to lisp, though no one ever heard him admit the fact, which he always vigorously denied. it was a jolly and well-satisfied party of athletes that journeyed back to town from the field where the game was played. even the members of the badly beaten scrub could not but feel a certain pride in the work of the regulars, and declared that if the boys could only do as well in the game with fairfield there need be no fear of the result. and luckily sunday would come as a day of rest before the match game at basking ridge was to take place. chapter viii. the punctured tire. it was saturday night. elmer chenowith had put in rather a strenuous day, all told, what with that morning walk, the rescue of poor toby from the tree top, and then nine full innings of warm work pitching during the afternoon hours. but he fancied he did not feel half so used up as toby, for instance, after his fall into the branches and vain struggles for release. it was about eight o'clock when the telephone bell rang, and as he was alone in the library at the time, elmer answered the call. to his surprise he recognized the voice at the other end of the wire as belonging to colonel hitchins, for once heard those smooth, even tones could never be mistaken. "is elmer at home?" asked the gentleman. "yes, sir, this is elmer talking with you," replied the boy, wondering immediately what could be wanted. "oh, is that so? how do you feel, elmer, after your hard afternoon's work? i was much pleased with your pitching, and meant to tell you so, only i found myself called to town by a message from the head of the police; for it seems that by some bad management they let those two rascals slip through their fingers--the fellows who took my fruit, i mean. are you dead tired, my boy?" "oh, not at all, sir. i took a bath as soon as i got home, and feel first-rate right now. did you want me for anything in particular, colonel?" "well, i'm afraid you'll think me as impatient as any boy," laughed the gentleman, "but the fact is, that box i mentioned to you as coming from india has just arrived this evening, and i'm going to unpack it. i had an idea that if you weren't too tired, possibly you might like to jump on your wheel and come over to give me a little help." "of course i will, sir, and only too glad!" declared elmer, for he knew about what that marvelous box was supposed to hold, and fairly itched to be on hand when its contents were exposed. "but are you sure you are not worn out after that hard game?" persisted the old gentleman. "well, i could ride twenty miles without much trouble if i had an object back of it; and i certainly do want to see what you told me was in that box of curios, colonel. my father will be in at any minute now. i'll tell him where i'm going, and i'm sure he won't object, for he likes me to be with you. then i'll jump on my wheel and run across. i've got a good lantern, you know, and there's a fairly decent road most all the way." "good! i shall expect to see you soon, then, elmer," said the gentleman, who had taken a deep interest in the boy. "i ought to be there inside of twenty minutes, i expect, sir"; and elmer cut off communication, because he heard his father's step in the hall. when he communicated the message of colonel hitchins to mr. chenowith there was not the slightest objection raised to his going. well did that father know he could trust his boy anywhere, and at any hour, without feeling anxiety as to what sort of company he was in. and the father who has this confidence in his son is to be envied indeed. so elmer got his wheel from the back hall where he usually kept it and, passing out, was quickly on the way. his lantern lighted the road in front of him fairly well, and since he was not apt to meet with many vehicles at this hour he could make pretty good time. just as he arrived close to the gate leading into the large property belonging to colonel hitchins, he heard the well-known hiss of escaping air that told of a puncture. "well, now, wouldn't that just jar you!" he exclaimed in disgust, never dreaming at the time what a tremendous influence that very same incident was destined to have upon his fortunes. "now i've either got to ask the colonel to give me a lift home, which i certainly won't do, or else trudge all the way back on foot, trundling my old wheel, for of course i couldn't expect to put a plug in without daylight to work by. oh, well, it's all in the game. let it go at that." in this manner, then, free from care and ready to take the hard with the easy, elmer pushed his useless machine ahead of him as he walked along the drive leading to the house, far removed from the country road. as he passed the peach trees that had been shorn of their prize contents elmer was, of course, reminded of the lost cap; but whatever he thought, he said nothing aloud to indicate that he had solved the mystery. "there's old bruno giving tongue," he presently remarked. "what a deep bark he has! wonder what he would do if he broke loose right now? but he ought to know me well enough. still, i hope the chain holds him. and here i am at the house." once again did he enter and pass along to the library where the colonel spent most of his time when at home. elmer remembered that the last occasion of his entering that room was when he accompanied mark there, as the other was responding to the request of the colonel that he would call and see him. "glad to see you, elmer; and this is nice of you, humoring a cranky old fellow like me when you deserved your rest to-night," was the way the gentleman met him as he entered. "i rather guess, sir, that i'm the one to feel grateful, because of your letting me be with you when you open that big box"; and he eyed the case with the foreign markings, knowing that it held many almost priceless objects, which the other had secured when last in india and left there until he chose to send for them. a servant came in with a pitcher of iced grape juice and some cake. "before we get to work, suppose we sample this, my son," remarked the gentleman, smilingly; for colonel hitchins knew boys from the ground up, even though he had never had any of his own. a little later the lid of the case, which had been loosened previously by one of the servants probably, was lifted off, and the colonel began to take out the costly little articles that were so snugly packed in nests of paper and cloth. these he placed upon the table as he brought them forth. they were of ebony, copper, brass, and ivory. elmer had never before looked upon such a queer assortment of curios. and the best of it was that nearly every one represented some sort of adventure in which the present owner had taken part. he related the story of each as he placed it there on the table and fingered it, while allowing memory to once more recall the lively incidents. elmer never passed a more enjoyable evening in all his life. why, it seemed to him that colonel hitchins must be one of those wonderful story-tellers he had read about in the _arabian nights entertainment_. and yet, strange though many of these narratives might be, he knew they were absolutely true, which made them seem all the more remarkable. so deeply interested had the boy become that he hardly noted the flight of time. when a clock struck eleven he drew a long breath. "i'm afraid i must be going, sir," he said, rising regretfully. "i promised my father not to stay longer than eleven, but i was surprised when i counted the cuckoo notes, for i thought it was only ten o'clock!" "thank you, elmer," said the other, as though greatly pleased. "that was as delicate and yet positive a compliment for my powers of entertainment as i have ever received. i will not try to detain you, because i appreciate the confidence your father puts in you. give him my best regards. i expect to have him over next week with a couple of other friends, for a hand of whist, and they will then see what you have helped me unpack to-night." true to his resolve, elmer had not mentioned the fact that his tire being flat, he would either have to push his wheel all the way home or leave it there and come on monday, when in daylight he could render it serviceable again. for he knew the genial colonel would insist on getting the colored driver out, have him hitch up the horses, and take his guest home; something elmer did not care to have happen. having shaken hands with the old gentleman again, elmer made his way to the front door and passed out. by this time he knew more or less about the arrangements of both house and grounds, and when the idea came to stow his wheel away until he chose to return for it, he remembered that there was an outhouse where some garden tools were kept, just around the main building. "i guess i'll see if it's unfastened, and if so i'll leave my old wheel there. it'll be safe in case of rain, too. wonder if bruno will act half crazy when he hears me moving around." while thinking after this strain, elmer was softly trundling his wheel around to that side of the mansion where he remembered seeing the tool house he spoke of. not wishing to make any noise that might excite the chained hound, or be heard in the house, he kept to the turf as he walked. "now that's queer," he said to himself, as he stopped to listen. "just when i expected to hear bruno carry on wild, he's as still as a clam. and yet a while ago he was barking fiercely, too. must have tired himself out and gone to sleep; or else he's broken loose again, and is taking a run over the country, as the colonel says he always does when he slips his collar." however, he was not at all sorry for this silence. had the hound, hearing his suspicious and stealthy movements, started to baying and yelping, he might have drawn the attention of some servant, who would be apt to give him trouble. and so elmer presently discovered some dark object looming up alongside him; which on closer inspection proved to be the very tool house of which he was in search. and better still, the door turned out to be unfastened by any lock, a staple and a wooden pin doing the holding act. groping around until he found a way to open the door, elmer carefully pushed his useless wheel inside. then he as quietly closed the door again. "i suppose somebody will be surprised to find a bicycle inside of a tool house," he chuckled, as he began to fasten the door again just as he had found it; "but if the fact is brought to the colonel's attention, trust him for understanding how it got there, and why." turning once more, he started to retrace his steps, intending to pass around the house and out at the gate that lay some distance away. a mile was not so very far to go, even for a tired boy. and as he had said, that cold bath had worked wonders for his muscles. elmer had gone possibly one half of the distance to the gate, when he believed he detected something moving ahead of him. the first thought that flashed across his mind was that it must be bruno, who was in the act of returning home after a little run about the country. he hoped the big dog would recognize him as a friend before attempting to jump at him; for elmer knew that siberian wolf hounds are not the easiest animals in the world to handle when met in the dark. so the boy prepared to speak, in the hope that bruno would recognize his voice. better after all to arouse the house, than have the dog attack him under the impression that he was a thief. again he detected that movement as he stood perfectly still alongside the bush. this time, however, it struck him that it did not seem so much like a dog; and while he was trying to figure this out, another sound came faintly to his ears. whispers! that meant human beings, and at least two, or they would not be exchanging remarks! could it be any of the servants belonging to the house? their actions would not warrant such an idea, for elmer could now see that the two dusky figures were creeping along, bending low, and behaving in the most suspicious manner possible. a sudden thought struck him so forcibly that it sent a shiver through his whole body. what was that the colonel had said over the wire about the two men whom he had had arrested on a charge of stealing his prize fruit, getting away from the poorly guarded lock up in town? could it be possible that these shadowy figures were those same rascals; and had they come to the home of colonel hitchins, determined after their lawless way, to get even with him for having caused them to suffer a short time in the jail? elmer could feel his heart beating like mad as he watched them drawing nearer and nearer. chapter ix. faithful to his friend. now they had stopped again, and seemed to be conferring in whispers. if elmer had had the least doubt before concerning their evil intentions, it was no longer in evidence. honest men do not creep around the house of a rich man at such an hour of the night, and put their heads close together. he flattened himself out on the ground, having dropped like a stone, though without the least noise. "how lucky that i happened to come along this way!" was the thought that seemed uppermost in the mind of the scout as he crouched there, waiting. "if my wheel had stayed all right i would have been far away right now, and never known a thing about this. and it was that tool house that made me go around to the back." he even grew bolder, and began to speculate as to how he might creep closer to the pair. if he could only overhear what they were saying, it might help more than a little. and, somehow, his desire to be of some assistance to his good friend the colonel, urged him to make the attempt. to an ordinary lad it might have seemed an impossible task, for in his clumsiness he must certainly have made some sort of sounds calculated to arouse the suspicions of the men. elmer's experiences in the canadian northwest had proven of great value to him ever since he joined the boy scouts. and when he started to creep forward, it was with some of the stealth of the cat gliding toward a coveted dinner in the shape of a feeding sparrow. as he covered several yards of territory, elmer noticed that he quickly began to catch the sound of conversation. the men were talking low, but one of them had a harsh voice, and while this had come to elmer at first as an indistinct murmur, presently he began to catch distinct words. having attained a place behind another bush, where he could have tossed a pebble and touched the two fellows, had he been of a mind, he strained his ears to catch the tenor of their earnest talk. the man with the husky voice seemed to be scolding his companion, and accusing him of being either timid or over-particular. "but ye was jest as dead set on doin' it as i was, con stebbins; an' now that we got the chanct ye show signs o' the white feather. brace up, an' lets git busy!" he was growling. "aw! what's eatin' ye, phil?" the other remarked, with a whine. "i'd like tuh do the job jest as much as yerself; but what if we got ketched? it'd mean a long time in the pen, phil." "i tell you we ain't agoin' to be caught," declared the heavier of the two, in an angry tone. "ain't i aknowin' the ropes here; didn't i uster work for the kunnel as a gardener? that's what made me so crazy mad when he had me locked up, jest because we went and took some o' his ole peaches, an' sold 'em so's to get the hard stuff." "but how d'ye know the dorg ain't goin' tuh git back an' tackle us while we're adoin' the job?" demanded the whining con. "didn't i tell ye that bruno knows me, an' that when i kim hyar an hour back i let him loose?" declared the heavy-set man, warmly. "but he might come back any ole time," protested the other. "he ain't goin' tuh," declared phil. "i orter know his ways right well. every time he breaks loose he stays away the hull blessed night. it's a picnic fur the dorg. reckon he's got some friends he visits, an' has a few scraps. jest ye forgit there is sech a thing as a dorg, and leave it tuh me to fix the game like we wants it." "huh! ye sed as how ye knowed jest how the game cud be worked, didn't ye, phil?" went on the taller man, nervously. "sure i did. all ye got tuh do is to foller me. i'm willin' tuh take the lead. yuh sed as how yuh had matches along, didn't yuh, con?" "plenty of 'em, phil," mumbled the other. "that's good. all yuh has tuh do is to strike a match, _and then drop it_! i wants tuh make sure both of us has a hand in it, that's all. now, are yuh ready to move along, con?" asked the shorter scoundrel. the other seemed to want to take one more nervous look around before consenting. undoubtedly his nerve had failed him in the critical test, and he was now being actually dragged into the thing by his more determined and vindictive partner. elmer had been thrilled by what he heard. when he caught the significant word "matches" the terrible truth flashed upon him, and he realized that these rascals, bent on revenge on the colonel because of their recent arrest, meant to set fire to either the stables or the mansion itself. in either event it was a dreadful thing. no wonder the boy grew cold, and then hot alternately. but he did not flinch. elmer was made of good stuff, and such an emergency as this called it out. he shut his teeth so hard together that he could hear the gritting sound, and so excited was he at the moment, that he wondered whether either of the men could have sharp enough hearing to have detected the noise which to his aroused fancy appeared like the creaking of a seldom-used door. but they gave no sign of any suspicion. con seemed to have recovered a little of his lost grit, and was allowing the ex-employee of colonel hitchins to draw him along again. they made progress slowly, stealthily keeping in the densest shadows, and at times almost creeping on their knees. "what shall i do?" that was the thought that flashed through the mind of the boy as he watched the pair of intended incendiaries moving off. he could shout, and thus arouse the house; or after they had gone it was within his power to hasten back to the door, and demand admittance. doubtless the colonel would still be in his library, for he seldom retired before midnight, elmer knew. and once he found a chance to communicate the terrible news to the owner of the place, prompt means could easily be taken for preventing the incendiary fire. then, while he was trying to decide which of these courses might prove best, a sudden inspiration assailed the boy. it was, of course, born of his former experiences among the "men who do things" on the broad plains. another lad would never had dreamed of such a bold course; or even had it appealed to him, he must have quickly decided against undertaking so hazardous an attempt to balk the wicked designs of these rascals. but to elmer it appealed irresistibly. he believed he could do it, given half a chance. and, unable to resist the temptation, he began to creep after the two shadowy figures, now almost beyond range of his vision. he noticed that they were passing around the house. this would indicate that they expected making their attack from the rear. phil had worked on these grounds, and apparently knew every foot of the estate. possibly he may, as he said, have been a gardener to colonel hitchins; elmer faintly remembered some man of about his squatty figure, whom he had seen trimming hedges, and working among the flowers early in the spring. all at once the boy had a new thrill. they were certainly headed straight for the very tool house where he had left his wheel! doubtless there must be some particular object in this action on the part of phil. did he wish to secure some sort of tool to be used in furthering his evil designs? "oh!" this exclamation was forced from elmer's lips when he suddenly remembered something; but fortunately it was hushed to a whisper. "that was kerosene i smelled when i was putting my wheel away," he said to himself. "perhaps there is a barrel of it kept in that place for use about the house, or making an emulsion to kill insects on the trees and rose bushes! and phil knows all about it if he used to be the gardener here. he also knows that the door of the tool house is never locked, but just fastened by a staple, a hasp, and that big nail held by a cord." if, as seemed probable, the two men were bent on starting a fire that would, according to their evil way of thinking, pay the colonel back for their recent arrest, one of the first agencies for making a fierce blaze that phil would be apt to think of must be that kerosene. it seems to appeal to every rogue who means to become an incendiary. elmer did not halt his footsteps. the terrible truth had thrilled, but not dismayed him. he was, in fact, more determined than ever to balk these villains in their intended work; though just why he kept on after them, when by rights he should have made direct for the front door of the house, elmer was never able to explain to his own satisfaction. some subtle power seemed to just pull him along as though he were being drawn by a powerful magnet which he could not successfully resist. yes, there could not be the slightest doubt now but that his guess was the true one; for just ahead he could see looming up the dark outlines of a building which he knew full well must be the tool house. again the men were whispering together, and the harsher tones of phil seemed to breathe threatenings of some sort. evidently the more timid con was weakening once more, and had to be pulled on. his desire for revenge was doubtless quite as strong as that of his companion; but he lacked the bull-dog courage to put his evil designs into execution. "oh! if they would only _both_ go inside that tool house!" elmer was saying to himself exultantly, as a wonderful possibility flashed before his mind. phil evidently wanted to fully incriminate his companion. it was his desire to make the weaker rascal appear equally guilty with himself. his expressed intention of having the taller fellow strike the match that was to start things going, was ample proof of this. would he himself enter the tool house to secure the kerosene? that would leave the timid one outside; and possibly he might seize upon such a golden opportunity to flee. if phil suspected him of harboring such an intention, then it was hardly likely that he would allow the other a chance to remain alone. on the contrary, his plan would be to insist upon con accompanying him in. and that was just what elmer was hoping would occur; for he had a little plan of his own, which had come into his active mind almost like an inspiration, and which he would then be able to put into practice. now they were at the door of the tool house. elmer was trying to remember just what it looked like. it had a small window, to be sure, but, unless he was mistaken, this had been protected by several stout iron bars, apparently with a view of preventing thieves from entering at some time in the past, when valuable things may have been kept there by the gentleman owning the estate before its purchase by the present occupant. yes, elmer decided in his mind, it was worth a trial. at the worst a failure might only mean the escape of the rascals; and their vicious plot would have been frustrated at least. he crept closer, still snaking his way along the ground in a fashion that some of his former cowboy friends on the ranch farm three thousand miles away might have recognized as familiar, since they had taught him how to do it. con was trying to beg off about entering the tool house, but phil had overruled his scruples, meeting every objection that was raised. "yuh jest _got_ tuh do it, i tell yuh, con," he finished, angrily. "the thing's in our hands right now, an' yuh promised tuh stick by me. so quit yer hangin' back, an' come along in. i know jest where tuh lay hands on the five-gallon can, an' we kin be out agin in a jiffy. yuh ain't skeered, be yuh, con?" "aw! course i ain't," whimpered the other, trying to steady his quivering voice, and probably bracing himself up under this accusation which stirred his last drop of courage into life. "lead off, phil, an' i'm with ye." "i'm agoin' tuh make dead sure o' that, con; that's why i got this grip on your arm. come right along, the door's open, and nawthin' tuh hinder, see!" the two shadows passed from elmer's range of vision. instantly the boy arose, and darted silently forward. a dozen, yes hardly more than half as many steps, carried him to the tool house. then, quick as a flash, he prepared to close the heavy door, and fasten it with what means were at hand! chapter x. giving him another chance. "hey! what was that, con!" elmer heard the shorter man say, inside the place. "oh, we're found out! it's all over, phil!" gasped the other fellow, in a sudden panic. "shut up, yuh fool! reckon as how 'twar only the night wind. here's the can; take hold and we'll kerry her out! i jest gotter do it, now!" that was enough for the boy outside. he understood that they must be at the farther end of the little house, and evidently bending over the object of their solicitude. his chance had come! elmer had already taken hold of the door, and laid out his plan of campaign. he expected every act to dovetail with the others, so as to form a complete whole. and not more than two seconds must elapse after he once started to move, before he finished his work. slam went the door shut. a low cry from within told how the nervous con had given expression to his alarm. utterly regardless of consequences, now that he had made a start, elmer slapped the hasp over the stout staple, and then feeling for the hanging nail proceeded to drop it into its place. things worked like a charm. the nail was shot into place in even less time than elmer had anticipated. he only hoped that the staples at either end of the hasp were clinched. then, if the imprisoned men threw their weight against the door, it was not so apt to give. elmer did not wait to hear what happened after he had shot his bolt. he expected a great commotion would begin immediately, and the determined phil start to using any tool upon which his groping hands might alight in the endeavor to batter his way to freedom. "now for the house and the colonel!" was what elmer thought, as, turning, he made a bee line for the front door, out of which he had passed not more than fifteen minutes before. the first thing he knew he was pounding at the panel, after having pressed the electric button. on either side of the door were long panes of stained glass; and while the boy could not have recognized anyone coming in answer to his summons, he did discover that there was a light within the broad hall. this would tend to prove that the colonel could not have gone up to his room. yes, now he could see some one issue from the library, and advance toward the door. oh, if he would only hurry! from the direction of the tool house came sounds of heavy pounding. doubtless the imprisoned rascals, fearing that they had been caught in a trap, were trying to smash their way out. what if they should strike a light, and that oil catch on fire! perhaps there was gasoline stored in the place as well as kerosene! now the colonel was unlocking the door. it was something unusual to have such a loud summons beaten upon the panels of his front door; but while some men might have shown signs of timidity, this old traveler, seasoned to adventure, was opening up without the first symptom of alarm. as the door flew open he looked keenly at the figure before him. "what, you, elmer, my boy!" he exclaimed. "why, what has happened? i hope you did not take a nasty header off your wheel?" "no, no, sir, it wasn't that!" cried the scout, hardly knowing what to say first, so as to impress the gentleman with the seriousness of the occasion. "some men--they mean to burn your house--the two who escaped from the lock-up, phil lally and con!" "what's that?" exclaimed the colonel, stiffening up instantly and showing all the signs that mark the conduct of an old war horse at scenting battle smoke. "how do you know this, my boy?" "i heard them talking--my wheel was punctured, and i put it in the tool house. then i followed them. they were going to get kerosene to use. they stepped into the tool house, and i slammed the door shut on them, and fastened it! listen, sir, that pounding you hear is them trying to get out!" "well, well, did i ever!" ejaculated the astonished gentleman. "wait here just a minute till i can get something." he turned and ran into his library as though he were nearer thirty years of age than seventy. in the excitement of the moment he had forgotten that time had silvered his head and given him twitches of rheumatism. the colonel was young again, and ready to respond to the call of duty. elmer listened. he could hear that terrible pounding keeping up from the back of the house, and understood what it meant. oh, how he hoped that in the darkness phil could not see to wield his ax effectively, and might thus fail to cut a way out! for it seemed as though part of the victory would be lost if those two rascals secured their freedom. perhaps the colonel was gone a full minute. it seemed ten to the waiting boy, who was wrongly figuring time by the rapid pulsations of his heart. then he became aware of the fact that once more the gentleman had joined him, and that he was busily engaged pushing some cartridges into a shotgun he carried. "here, elmer, take this!" he exclaimed, thrusting the weapon into the hands of the scout. "i know you are used to handling firearms, or i wouldn't ask you to do it. now, come with me, please, and we'll see if we can't influence those two fire-makers to be good!" down the steps he ran, so that elmer was even put to it to keep at his heels. at least the prisoners of the tool house could not have as yet managed to effect their escape, for the battering sounds still continued, accompanied by loud excited cries. quickly the two hurried along, until they arrived on the scene of action. "look, sir, there's another of them coming!" cried elmer, pointing to a skulking figure among the bushes, indistinctly seen. "here, you, come out of that; we've got you covered, and you can't escape!" exclaimed the colonel, who was gripping something that shone like steel in his right hand, and which elmer guessed must be a pistol of some sort. "don't shoot, kunnel!" cried a quivering voice; "'deed, an' i surrenders, suh! i reckon i's pow'ful glad yuh kim. i's sam, suh, yuh man sam! please don' pull de triggah ob dat gun, mars kunnel!" it was the coachman who had driven elmer and mark on the occasion of the latter's being summoned to an interview with the old traveler. "here, go and get a lantern at once, sam, and run for all you're worth!" called the old gentleman. "meanwhile, the rest of us will surround the tool house, and be ready to give them a volley if they succeed in breaking out!" sam had already turned and hurried away toward the stables, where he must have been sitting in his room at the time the row broke out, that drew him toward the scene of the disturbance. of course, the last remark of the colonel's had been made with the intention of its being overheard by the men who were fastened inside the outhouse. the sounds of pounding had suddenly ceased as the colored man started to answer the command of the colonel, and those within could easily hear every word uttered. a silence followed that was only broken by low groans within. doubtless the more timid rascal was repenting of having been led into this dangerous game of seeking revenge. the dreadful penalty meted out to house burners loomed up before his horrified eyes. the only pity was that he had not allowed himself to see this earlier, and resisted temptation. "hello!" that was phil calling. his heavy voice seemed to express all the signs of acknowledged defeat. elmer waited to see what the colonel would do, nor was he kept long in suspense. "this time you're caught in a trap like a rat, phil lally," remarked the old gentleman. "i'm sorry for you, more than sorry for your poor old mother; but since you took to drink this was bound to be your end. it came quicker than i thought, i admit, but you've got nobody to blame save yourself." an intense silence followed, broken only by occasional low whines from the weaker rascal. then phil called out again. "well, i reckon yuh speaks only the truth, kunnel. i allers had a job up tuh the time i took tuh drinkin'. sense then hard luck has follered clost tuh my heels. an' now i sure knows it's got me. i'd like one more chanct tuh try an' do better; but i reckon it's too late, an' i'll have tuh grin an' bear it." elmer heard him give a big sigh. somehow the sound affected the boy more than he would have believed possible. he had supposed that phil must be just naturally a bad man, wicked all the way through. now he realized that it all came through his one weakness, a love for strong drink. the colonel moved up a step closer to the door. elmer wondered whether he meant to throw open the barrier and hold the two scoundrels up as they came forth. but he mistook the action of the old gentleman. "phil!" he said, quietly. "yes, sir," answered the gruff tones from within, but no longer filled with a savage brutality, for elmer could detect a quaver as of strong emotion. perhaps it may have been the mention of that old mother whose heart would be broken when her boy was sent to prison for a long term. and somehow elmer found himself hanging on the next words of the gentleman with an eagerness which he could hardly understand--for it seemed to him that a human soul was trembling in the balance. "listen to me, phil," continued the colonel. "what if i gave you one more chance to make good; do you think you could keep your pledge, if you gave it to me, never to take a single drop again as long as you live? are you strong enough to do this for the sake of that old mother of yours?" there was an inarticulate sound from within. it might have been phil talking to himself; but elmer was more inclined to believe something else--that the strong man was almost overwhelmed by the magnanimity of the gentleman whom he had once served, and whose kindness of the past he had returned so meanly. "how about it, phil?" continued the colonel. "shall i 'phone in to town and have the police come out here to take you into custody, or are you ready to put your signature to a pledge for me to hold?" "i'll do it, kunnel, i'll do it, and thank yuh a thousand times for the chanct!" broke out the man. "oh, what a crazy fool i was to go agin the best friend i ever had! i'll sign anything yuh arsks me tuh, an' i'll keep it, too, or die atryin'!" "i'm glad to hear you say that, phil," went on the colonel, with a low laugh. "you were a good gardener up to the time you began to booze and neglect your work my new man proved a failure, and i've let him go. the job's open, phil!" "for me?" cried the man, as though utterly unable to believe his ears. "d'ye mean, kunnel, yu'd dar take me back agin, arter the way i been actin'?" "oh, we'll try and forget all that, phil. it wasn't you, but the devil you took inside, that made you act that way. and since you're never going to give way to the tempter again i guess i'll risk the chances." he raised his hand and removed the big nail, just as sam came running up, bearing a lighted lantern in his ebony grip. as the door opened a figure issued forth. it was the short man, and his head was bowed on his chest, which seemed to be heaving convulsively, either because of his recent exertions with the ax, or through some emotion. "is that straight, kunnel, an' do yuh mean to fergive me?" he asked, humbly, as he stood there before the old gentleman. "for the sake of your old mother, yes, i'm going to give you another chance, phil. and let's hope you can make good. i'm not one bit afraid, if only you stick to your word. and to prove it, here's my hand!" the man seized it eagerly. he was shaking with emotion now, and somehow elmer felt his own eyes grow moist; for he realized that he was looking on one of the tragedies of life right then and there; and the thought that he had had a hand in bringing this finish about, and making the repentance of phil possible, thrilled the boy scout strangely. no one paid any attention to the skulking figure that slipped out from the open door of the tool house, and ran hastily off. of course it was phil's confederate, the timid con stebbins, who, seeing an opening for escape, had hastened to avail himself of it. chapter xi. ready for the battle of the bats. "good night again, colonel," said elmer, thinking to start for home once more. "ah, are you there, my boy?" said the old gentleman, turning around. "well, perhaps you wouldn't mind waiting over a little, and acting as witness at a little business ceremony that phil and myself want to carry through?" "certainly not, sir," replied the boy; "only i was thinking that, since my wheel is out of the running, i will be very late in getting home, and i promised father to leave at eleven, you know." "oh, that's easily fixed, elmer! i'll just call him on the phone, if you think he's up still, and explain matters. and sam here, will hitch up the team, and take you home presently. now, please don't object, for you know i like to have my way. both of you come with me into the house." once in the library, elmer saw that the man phil was not such a desperate looking scoundrel as he had imagined from hearing him mutter and threaten. indeed, he had a very decent face, which was now red with the confusion and shame that overwhelmed him because of his recent miserable action. readily he put his signature to a paper the gentleman wrote out, and elmer signed his name as a witness. he knew that it all depended upon the ability of the repentant man to make good. if he could show himself worthy of trust, his future was safe in the hands of that fine old gentleman. "i'll never forget this, kunnel," he said, brokenly, as he stood there and looked his employer in the face firmly. "you're goin' tuh make a man uh me. i don't deserve it a bit, either; for if i got what i deserved----" "there, that will do, phil," interrupted the colonel. "if we all got what we deserved there'd be few of us walking down the street to-morrow, i'm afraid. but, see here, don't you think you owe some thanks to this bright young chap for what happened? if he hadn't just happened to overhear you talking to your friend, and crept after you, to shut you in the tool house, possibly you might have found a chance to carry out your harebrained scheme, and then there could be no turning back. in my mind you owe a great deal to elmer chenowith here." "i jest reckons i do, sir. it was mighty plucky for him tuh foller us, and tuh do that clever trick. i'd like to shake hands with the boy, and thank him, if so be he's your friend, kunnel," said the former gardener. the old gentleman had before this succeeded in catching mr. chenowith over the wire, and assured him that circumstances had arisen to keep elmer beyond the time he had promised; but that he would send him home presently in his vehicle. "and you've reason to be proud of that lad of yours, chenowith," he had added. "to-morrow i hope to see you, and tell you something that's happened here, in which he bore a part manfully. good night, now!" he chuckled as he turned away from the phone, knowing that elmer's father would now be eager to ask questions when the boy reached home. as the carriage lights could be seen just below on the drive showing that sam had hitched up as he was ordered, and there was really no cause for further delay, elmer shook hands with the colonel again and went out. "i'll be after my wheel on monday morning, sir," he said at parting; "when i can see to put a plug in that tire. i hope phil didn't smash the whole thing when he got working with that ax." "if he did i'll see that you have a new wheel, my boy; and, indeed, i think that i'm deeply in your debt as it is," replied the gentleman, smiling. "just think what a big difference it would have made, to myself and phil lally here, if you hadn't had that puncture. i'm not the man to forget, elmer. good night, and god bless you!" as elmer lay back in the comfortable carriage, and was drawn homeward by the spirited bays, he chuckled more than once at the idea of a healthy lad like himself being thus treated, as though he were an invalid. "only that the colonel seemed determined, and he does not like anyone to oppose him, i sure would have declined this lift," he said to himself. but on the whole, he could not say that he would have had anything different from the way events had come to pass, even though he had the making of the chart. and he was inclined to agree with the colonel in declaring that if any misfortune could ever be looked upon in the light of a lucky accident, that puncture which he had given his tire just as he reached the place he was heading for was such. when he arrived home he found his father waiting for him. and since the gentleman's curiosity had been stirred by those words of the colonel, he was bent on asking questions until he learned the whole facts. elmer was not a boaster, and he made no attempt to show himself up in the light of a hero. but reading between the lines of his story, his father saw that there might be still more to hear when he met the colonel in the morning, as he was now fully determined to do. perhaps, after such an exciting experience, the boy did not sleep as soundly as he might have done under ordinary conditions. but the event had made a powerful impression on his mind, and the generous conduct of his old friend toward his erring servant had served to teach elmer one more lesson that might at some future day bring forth good fruit. he did not mention the matter save to his best chum, mark; and even he was placed under bonds never to reveal it. the colonel had asked this as a favor, for he did not want the story to get to the ears of phil lally's old mother. of course, it would soon be known that he had taken phil back again as his head gardener, and that all matters against the young man had been quashed; but that was nobody's business save the two involved. monday came, and about every boy in and around hickory ridge, upon getting out of bed that morning, made a bee line for the window and consulted the signs of the weather. for it was certainly going to be a famous day for those who were fond of the great national game, since the boy scouts of the neighboring town of fairfield were due to meet their nine in a struggle for victory. and not only hickory ridge and fairfield, but basking ridge, where the game was to be played on neutral territory, seemed baseball mad. elmer himself had hardly gotten downstairs before he heard the phone bell ring, and, as no one else was around, he answered it. just as he surmised, it proved to be one of his chums, red huggins, after him for information. "how about this weather business, elmer?" demanded the other, as soon as he learned that he was in touch with the patrol leader. "well, what about it?" returned elmer, chuckling. "i hope none of you think to hold me responsible for whatever comes." "oh, shucks! you know better than that," retorted red, eagerly; "but we've heard you explain just how they know what sort of a day it's going to be, away up there in the canadian wilderness, and we want your opinion right now. ted and toby are over at my house and i'm commissioned to hold you up and get an answer, so's to know what to expect. see?" "but see here, why d'ye want to know how the weather away up in the northwest is going to be to-day? have you got any wheat planted; or do you mean to put the steam plow into that quarter section, if the signs are favorable?" demanded elmer. "aw, let up on a feller, elmer, can't you?" went on the other, in what was meant to be a wheedling tone. "we want you to make use of the knowledge you picked up away off yonder, to tell us what sort of afternoon it's going to be. get that, now? is there any rain storm in sight? will it be as hot as the dickens; or are we in for a cold wave? we want to know, and we depend on you to tell us. open up now, won't you, and be good?" "oh, is that all you want?" laughed elmer. "why, if i could tell you what's sure going to happen eight hours ahead i'd hire out to the government as old probs." "but you can hit it pretty fair, elmer," persisted red. "come on, now, and tell us. we've seen you do it lots of times, and nearly every shot came true. now, some of us think we're due for a rain, because the sky was a little red this morning. and you know that old saying, 'red in the morning is the sailor's warning.' what do you think? give us a drive now. elmer." "well, i took a squint around from my window, and so far as i could see----" "yes, sir; but go on, elmer," broke in the impatient red, nervously. "it was a beautiful morning." "oh, rats! we all know that much, elmer; but the signs, what do they say? if it pours down rain the game's all off, and that means bad luck to our fellows," red went on, being addicted to a belief in all sorts of signs and tokens; just as the boy from south carolina, chatz maxfield, was a believer in ghosts, and charms, and the hind foot of a rabbit killed in a graveyard at midnight by the light of the full moon. "don't worry, red," elmer went on, purposely holding back the desired information, since he owed this comrade more than one long-standing debt because of tricks practiced by the prank-loving red. "then the signs _are_ favorable; do you mean that, elmer?" begged the other. "the sky looks good to me. the little color you saw was only the rosy flush of a summer dawn. and the breeze seems to be coming from the right quarter, red. i don't think it's going to be a roasting day for august." "that sounds all right to me, elmer. on the whole, then, you predict that we'll have a decent afternoon; just the kind to spur every fellow on to doing his best licks?" continued the boy at the other end of the wire, with joy permeating his tones. "i never predict, and you know it," laughed elmer. "all i can say is that just now things look good. if the clouds don't come up, and it stays as clear as it is right now, the chances are we'll not get wet." "oh, rats! but you've said enough to tell me what you think, and that's the main thing. do we practice any this morning, elmer?" asked red. "the last thing i heard from captain lil artha, he said he didn't want a stale team on his hands this afternoon, so there'll be no regular practice this a.m. i expect to toss a few over with mark, just to make sure i've got control; but as the game promises to be a pretty warm affair, it's best everybody keeps rested up until we get in practice half an hour before the umpire calls on us to play. anything more, red?" "no, nothing; only the boys here want me to ask you how your arm feels." "fine and dandy," laughed elmer. "couldn't be in better shape. if those swatters from fairfield straighten out my curves this afternoon, it'll only be my own fault. you won't hear me complaining i wasn't in condition, for i am." "bully boy! we all know what that means when you're feeling right. i'm sorry for matt tubbs and his crowd, that's all," red said over the wire; whereupon elmer, unable to stand for any more of this palaver, cut him short by hooking up the receiver. when later on he went out with mark to do a little preliminary pitching, every boy they met seemed to fall in behind, until there was quite an imposing procession heading for the field where hickory ridge athletic contests were always pulled off. they understood that everything depended on the ability of the pitcher of the hickory ridge boy scout nine to baffle these heavy hitters from fairfield; and hence, everyone wanted to see for himself just what elmer could do on the eve of the great and important battle with the bats. elmer would much rather have found a chance to do his practicing in secret; but at the same time he sympathized with these kids who were baseball mad. so for half an hour he and mark worked their many little games, and exchanged signals that were supposed to be known only to themselves, while groups of fellows lounged under the neighboring trees and kept tabs on their actions, commenting favorably on every play that struck them as cleverly done. later on elmer, having donned his sweater because of his heated condition, was waiting for mark to join him, the latter having gone off to speak to a girl who was passing in a little pony cart, when he was suddenly startled to have a hand laid on his arm and hear little jasper merriweather say in a thrilling tone: "it's all off, elmer; they've got you marked for the slaughter. if you pitch this afternoon, those sluggers from fairfield are going to just knock you out of the box. it's a mean shame, that's what it is, now!" chapter xii. stealing the signals. "what's that you're talking about, jasper?" demanded the pitcher, whirling on the smallest of the scouts, whose father kept a tailoring establishment in town and made the khaki suits worn by the hickory ridge troop. jasper was a very timid fellow as a rule. his chums were often joking him about the truth of the old saying, to the effect that it took nine tailors to make a man, and that in consequence he had a heap to pick up. but jasper took these things in good part, because he knew his failings even though trying the best he could to overcome them. he was looking very much worried when elmer turned on him. the hand that had been gripping the sleeve of the pitcher's sweater fell to his side again. elmer noticed that the boy shot a quick glance toward a group of fellows who, seeing practice was over for the day, seemed to be getting their wheels out, as if intending to ride away. "why, i'm afraid it's all over but the shouting for fairfield, elmer!" replied the small scout, in answer to the question elmer fired straight at him. "you don't say?" retorted the other, laughing. "well, my work must be pretty bad, if even jasper merriweather calls it rotten. whew! the boys had better be trotting out their other pitcher, if i'm going to be sent to the stable so easy." "oh, it ain't that, elmer, sure it ain't, because don't i believe you're the best pitcher in the whole world?" pleaded jasper, looking pained that his fidelity was being doubted in the least. "then whatever ails you, jasper?" continued the other, realizing all of a sudden that perhaps there _might_ be something worth noticing in this strange conduct of the scout belonging to the beaver patrol. "it's the signals, elmer; the signals you and mark have been practicing, don't you see?" jasper cried. "hello! so that's what troubles you, is it?" remarked elmer, seriously. "what's wrong with my signals, tell me, jasper? i don't suppose you could understand what we were doing most of the time; and even if you did, a hickory ridge scout would never think of betraying a secret belonging to his troop. what about my signals?" "didn't you see him?" asked jasper, eagerly. "well, now, i have seen a few dozen fellows this same morning, so i don't know which one you mean," replied elmer, shaking his head in the negative. "lon braddock!" almost whispered jasper, looking after the group of fellows just starting away on their wheels. elmer shook his head and smiled. "you've got me this time, jasper," he remarked; "because, you see, i don't know that i ever heard that name before. is he a new boy in hickory ridge; and does he say my work is off color?" "but--he don't live in hickory ridge at all, elmer," expostulated the other; "that's the trouble, you see." "oh, is it? well, i don't see, and you'll sure have to explain what you mean. if he doesn't live in our town, perhaps he's visiting here"; and elmer waited to see how jasper took this. "i think he came over to see bob harris, because they were together pretty much all the time," jasper went on, nodding his head with almost every word in his eagerness to be emphatic. "you see, he is a fairfield fellow, elmer!" "what?" exclaimed the other, suddenly stiffening up, as a consciousness of what tremendous possibilities there might be in this morning visit of a fairfield boy dawned upon his mind. "and when i was over there a few days ago i heard felix wagner, the second baseman of the fairfield team, say that they had made a good find in lon braddock, who promised to be an even better pitcher than matt himself." elmer was showing considerable eagerness now. "hold on there, jasper," he said, in his quiet, but impressive, way; "go slow, boy, and let me understand just what you mean. this fellow is named lon braddock, you tell me; and he's a newcomer at fairfield. that accounts for the fact that none of our fellows recognized him as he sat there watching me. and now, more than that, you say he's an extra pitcher of the fairfield scout team. have i got that all o. k., jasper?" "yes, that's all to the good, elmer," declared the smaller lad, earnestly. "and honest, now, i believe that fellow came over here this morning just on purpose to get some points about your pitching. he knows what signal work does in a game, and he wants to knock you out. why, elmer, i tell you, before three hours every fellow on the fairfield team will know that code of signals you and mark have been practicing." "now you're not just guessing, are you, jasper? because i'm the last one in the wide world to want to condemn a fellow on general principles. he might have had a genuine errand over here, and just dropped around to take my size." "perhaps he did, elmer, perhaps he did; but was there any need for him to put it all down in a little notebook he carried, and waiting till he thought nobody was watching him?" demanded jasper. "say, did you see him do that?" asked the other, sternly. "at least three times, elmer," came the quick reply. "and every time after he had made some note he'd nod his head and grin like he was just tickled to death over something." elmer whistled, and mark, turning, saw him wave a hand. apparently the catcher must have said a hasty good-by to the pretty little miss in the pony cart, for she whipped up her steed and mark started toward his chum. "oh, what can you do, elmer?" exclaimed jasper. "he's gone off now with bob harris, and pretty soon it'll be too late." "too late for what, jasper?" asked the pitcher. "why, i thought, you see, that perhaps a lot of us might get hold of him and make him give up that notebook," explained jasper. "you don't say!" laughed elmer. "what particular good would that do us, tell me, when he's sure got everything down pat in his mind, just the same? and we can't lock a fairfield fellow up, even for stealing signs." "then he'll get away with it!" burst forth jasper, with almost a wail. "i reckon he will, my boy; but that isn't saying the knowledge he's stolen will do him, or any of his mates, any good," chuckled elmer. "but how can you help it?" demanded the smaller boy, dubiously observing the face of his comrade and wondering why he did not seem to detect any uneasiness there. "how? oh, by switching the signals, i suppose. i'll put it up to mark, here. we can mix things around so that every sign stands for something different than it did just now. and if the fairfield fellows expect to gain anything from thinking they're onto our signals, they're going to be badly surprised. you'll see some bally old batting until they understand that fact." "what's all this row about?" asked mark, coming up just then in time to overhear elmer's last few words, which, of course, mystified him considerably. "why, we've just learned that all the time you and i were practicing our signals a spy from fairfield was watching us," said elmer. "is that straight, or are you just kidding me?" demanded the catcher of the nine. "which his name is lon braddock; and he's a newcomer, who can pitch as well as matt tubbs himself. of course, he must be a scout, or else he couldn't play in this match game; but how a fellow can be a scout and do such a ratty thing as that, beats me all hollow," elmer went on. "tell me the whole story, that's a good fellow," remarked the other. "where did you get it--from jasper, here?" "yes, i've been watching him," replied the smallest scout, nodding. "i heard of him over in fairfield, and he was pointed out to me as the man matt depended on to fool the hickory ridge nine in case he got knocked out of the box himself. besides, i saw him write something down in a notebook as many as three or four times, and always chuckling to himself to beat the band." "well, that's a nice surprise to have thrown at your head just after we were saying we had those signs all down pat. this means another turn at it"; and mark threw his coat on the grass with an expression of disgust. "hold on till that bunch of fellows gets out of sight, mark, which will be in a few minutes," remarked elmer, who failed to look at the thing with the same shade of annoyance that marked the countenance of his friend; "but in the end this may turn out to be in our favor, you know." "perhaps it may," replied the catcher; "but it's a nuisance, all the same. now we've just got to go and unlearn all we fixed up." "easy job, mark; just push 'em ahead one point and everything's altered. makes me laugh to think how those fellows will tumble into the trap. why, i can see one or two strike-outs every inning till they get wise. and say, perhaps our new pitcher, lon braddock, will feel like kicking himself because he was such a fool as to believe all he saw." "now they're around the bend of the road, elmer, with that strange boy alongside bob harris, plying him with questions by the dozen, i reckon. luckily, bob doesn't know very much about our nine, for his application to be a scout was turned down, you remember, elmer." "so it was," mused the pitcher; "which makes me suspect that perhaps bob knew why the man from fairfield was over here. it's pretty hard to find that there are traitors in your own camp. but let them keep it up; we're going to take their number to-day, as sure as you're born, mark. i just feel it in my bones. i only hope matt tubbs didn't know about this trick. i'd hate to think he had a hand in it; and after seeing what a change has come over the former bully of fairfield and cramertown i won't believe it, either." so they once more started in, passing the ball. a few of the small boys had remained to continue their scrub ball game. they wondered what the battery of the regular nine could be doing and stopped playing to watch; but as jasper had been particularly cautioned not to breathe a word of the valuable discovery he had made, they were none the wiser for their survey and soon went back to their happy-go-lucky game. it did not take the two boys long to get familiar with the new version of the sign code. even mark allowed that he had it down just as pat as the older style. "and just as you said, elmer," he admitted, "if those fellows over at fairfield believe they're onto our signs, they're going to make a heap of trouble for themselves, believe me. i can see a fellow whacking away at a wide bender that he expects is going to be a swift one over the rubber. the only trouble will be for me to keep a straight face through the circus." "oh, it won't last long," replied the other. "when a few of them have made a show of themselves they'll talk it over and conclude the spy got the signals mixed. but by that time the mischief may have been done. remember, mark, we owe a lot to little wide-awake jasper, here. he's always on the watch for chances to build up the credit of hickory ridge troop." each of them gravely shook hands with jasper, who turned very rosy in the face at hearing himself spoken of in terms of praise, for there had been times when the boy had begun to despair of ever accomplishing anything worth while in the organization, his size seeming to be so much of a handicap against him. but now hope was taking on new life within him, for he had found that size really counts for little in many of the things a scout may do to bring credit on himself and honor to his troop. it was nearly noon when elmer and mark turned their faces homeward. earlier in the day the former had walked over to colonel hitchins's to get his wheel and ride it home, after putting a plug in the puncture. he was considerably surprised, and pleased as well, to see phil lally working in the garden as he passed. the man looked up and waved a hand cheerily, and it gave elmer a queer little sensation, altogether pleasant, in the region of his boyish heart to realize that that young fellow was laboring honorably there that bright morning, instead of languishing in jail with a forlorn outlook before him, thanks to the kind heart and generous impulse of the man who owned the estate. and it also pleased elmer to feel that he, too, had had something of a share in what seemed like the reformation of phil lally. and when noon came around the skies still smiled, guiltless of clouds; while a delightful breeze gave promise of a grand afternoon for the great game. chapter xiii. ready for the great game. "what's the matter with this for a corker?" lil artha, the long-legged first baseman of the hickory ridge nine, put this question to his mates as the big carry-all containing the team, with several substitutes, came in view of the fine field at basking ridge on the afternoon when the great game was to be decided. no one tried to answer. the reason was plain, for they were utterly overwhelmed by the magnitude of the immense crowd that had assembled to see the anticipated spirited contest between the rival teams of boy scouts. in every direction were great masses of people, all decked out in their holiday attire. girls in white and every color of the rainbow waved parasols, gay handkerchiefs, and little flags on which the name of their favorite team had been emblazoned. "why," gasped ted, when he could catch his breath, which had been actually snatched away from him by his amazement, "there must be a thousand of them here!" "better say millions and be done with it," laughed red, eager for the fray. "the whole county has turned out to do us honor, it seems," remarked matty. "and because of that, fellows," put in elmer, "every hickory ridge scout ought to shut his teeth hard and make up his mind to win out; never to give up; and if he makes an error, do something right afterward to atone for it." "right you are, my boy," remarked mr. garrabrant, the efficient scout master, who fortunately was enabled to accompany the boys on this trip. "i was just going to say something along those same lines myself when you took the words out of my mouth. hickory ridge is watching you to-day, fellows; and hickory ridge expects every one of her sons to do his duty. nobody can do more." "well, here we are, safe and sound," remarked ty, as the vehicles came to a stop in the midst of the tremendous throng. "wow! listen to that, would you?" said toby, as cheers started that seemed to rock the very earth. the team from fairfield had arrived some time before. they were busily engaged in building up their batting abilities by sending out hot ones that a number of local baseball enthusiasts caught in the field. "say, they're a lot of hustlers, now, let me tell you," declared red, as he stood for a minute watching the actions of the others. "oh, they're big enough," remarked lil artha, indifferently; "but since when did size count for everything in baseball? you'll see the smallest fellow step up and knock out a homer, where a big stiff like me swings at three wide ones and sits down on the mourners' bench." "like anything you will," said red, disdainfully. "the pitcher who strikes you out has got to get up early in the morning, that's what"; since the gaunt first baseman was noted for his keen batting eye and could pick out a "good one" as well as any in the business. "come on, fellows, let's get busy," called elmer, as he passed a ball to one of the others, and in almost a twinkling the whole bunch was tossing back and forth, gradually widening out. then a few of them fraternized with their opponents, as they happened to know most of the fairfield fellows, and in this way a number of elmer's team found a chance to take a turn at bat. it was a sight that would not soon be forgotten in basking ridge. they certainly did have a splendid field for the sport; and the grand stand was a little gem in its way, but on such an occasion it did not begin to hold one fifth of the spectators who would have been glad of a chance to use it. "ground rules to-day, that's sure, elmer," remarked the field captain of the hickory ridge team, as he stood alongside the pitcher, receiving the ball at intervals and returning it. "that goes, without a doubt," replied elmer, as he surveyed the mass of people packed around the diamond and the field. "and if i were you, i'd look up matt tubbs right away, so as to have that matter settled." "sure," said lil artha. "and i reckon that a hit into the crowd will stand for two bases and no more." "as near as i can see, there's only _one place_ anybody can hit to-day for a homer," declared elmer, again surveying the field. "tell me where that is," remarked lil artha, "because i want to know. as field captain, it's my business to know; and as an humble batter, i might want to look that way before the game grows cold." "you'll notice that none of the crowd seem to want to pack upon the right of the center field," elmer went on in a low tone. "if a batter could send one out there like hot shot, that managed to escape the fielder, it would never stop on that little down grade till he'd made the rounds." "aw, thanks!" replied lil artha, dryly. "i'm sorry that my specialty happens to lie off there in left; but i'm going to twist around a little and keep that down grade in mind. perhaps, who knows?" and he winked at elmer in his comical way as he hurried off to confer with matt tubbs. home run joe mallon, the professional ball player who was home at basking ridge nursing a broken arm, was on the spot, ready to serve as umpire. he had been well known in this capacity before he broke into the big league, and people used to say that he seldom erred in his decisions. they called him "honest joe" at the time he umpired, and few ever disputed his decisions. he might make a slight slip, but everyone knew he decided plays just as he saw them and the rabble of the bleachers never had any weight with him. elmer and mark found a chance to get together and confer where they could speak their minds without others hearing. later on they expected to warm up for business, but it was too soon, as yet. after the rest of the team had started in on their fifteen minutes of practice it would be time enough for elmer to try out a few of his curves and drops. "i had jasper merriweather show me the fellow," elmer remarked. "meaning our slick friend, lon braddock?" questioned the catcher. "yes. that's lon talking to henry cobb, who plays third base for the fairfield nine. and mark, between you and me, i don't just like his face or manner." "same here, elmer," declared the other quickly. "he's got a tricky way about him, and i warrant you that fellow is going to give matt tubbs more trouble than all the rest of his team combined. look at him chuckling now. ten to one he's telling cobb how he's got the injun sign on our signals, and what great stunts the fairfield batters are going to do with your curves and slants." "well, you know the old saying to the effect that the fellow laughs hardest who laughs last; and mark, believe me, we're going to have that privilege. but i hope you won't give it away by jeering the unlucky batter when he nearly kills the air swiping at one that is away beyond the end of his stick." "i'll try and keep a straight face, elmer," chuckled mark. "got a piece of alum in my pocket right now, and before the game begins i mean to rub it over the side of my mouth, so as not to be able to crack a smile. there go our boys out in the field for practice." "well, perhaps we'd better get a move on, then, and pass a few, though after our morning work i don't feel much in need of it, mark." as fairfield had already taken the field, and there was now only fifteen minutes left before game would be called, the battery of the rival team was also hard at work when elmer and mark started in. of course, neither pitcher tried his best in that preliminary bout. well did they know that eager eyes were watching them for points connected with their delivery, and that these would be quickly seized upon for an advantage. hence they contented themselves, as a rule, in sending in swift, straight balls simply to warm up. hickory ridge had batted against matt tubbs for several seasons, and yet never had a game been actually finished. up to the present they had always broken up in a beautiful row, in which both sides claimed victory. elmer had pitched part of a game the preceding summer. at the time he had proven so much of a mystery to his opponents that, seeing prospective defeat staring his team in the face, matt tubbs had found some pretext for disputing a decision of the umpire to end the battle. but since that time the fairfield team had been greatly strengthened, and in all their games thus far this season they had beaten their opponents easily. on a neutral field, with a firm umpire directing matters and with all the participants members of the boy scouts, it was believed that for once a game between these old rivals might be threshed out to a conclusion. many shook their heads, remembering the matt tubbs of old and prophesying all manner of evil things that might spring from this bitterly contested game. others, who knew something of the principles governing true scouts, tried to take heart of hope and believe that there must have been a great awakening in the former bully. but even they admitted that "the proof of the pudding lay in the eating of it," and that they would be better satisfied when the end came without a riotous demonstration on the part of fairfield and cramertown. the hickory ridge boys seemed to acquit themselves very well in practice. numerous dazzling pick-ups were made by the infield that brought out roars of applause from the big crowd; while those tending the outer gardens had to make rapid speed and do some air-jumping in order to drag down the flies that were sent out in their direction. having seen both teams at work, the crowd hardly knew which looked the better. and, as in most cases, it ended in a strictly partisan division, each town standing loyally by its athletes, with basking ridge about equally divided. finally the hickory ridge fellows were called in from the field. the time for practice had expired, and presently, when a few little details were gone through with, real business would begin. the two teams lined up for the fray in this order: hickory ridge scouts. ted burgoyne third base toby jones right lil artha first base chatz maxfield left red huggins short stop ty collins center matty eggleston second base elmer chenowith pitcher mark cummings catcher fairfield scouts. felix wagner second base adrian cook left john bastian right henry cobb third base christy poole first base angus mcdowd center john mulligan short stop tom ballinger catcher matt tubbs pitcher there was a wave of talk passing over the throng as the two captains conferred. it was understood that they were deciding finally on the ground rules that must prevail, on account of the mass of spectators pushing in on the lines. all basking ridge's local police force was on the spot, but half a dozen good-natured officers are next to useless when up against thousands; in contests of this sort dependence must be placed on the spirit of fair play that is generally a part of baseball crowds, especially in smaller towns, where the players are known. "the game is called; now for it!" yelled the nearest spectators, as they saw the umpire pick up his mask and step forward to announce the batteries, while the hickory ridge players started for their positions. "and we have the last look-in, as we take the field first!" howled an enthusiastic follower of the team that looked to elmer as the keystone of their arch. chapter xiv. how the fight went on. "the batteries for to-day's game will be: chenowith and cummings for hickory' ridge; tubbs and ballinger for fairfield!" the last word of the umpire was drowned in a roar, and the air seemed filled with waving hats, parasols of gaudy hues, handkerchiefs, and anything else that could be utilized for the occasion. then came a dead silence. every eye, doubtless, was at that moment riveted on the young pitcher of the nine in the field as he sent in a few straight ones to his catcher, just to find the plate. "they say he's got speed to burn," remarked one basking ridge spectator who had never before seen elmer pitch. "but the best thing he's got is a nasty little slow drop that's running christy matthewson a close race," commented a second one. "oh, shucks!" laughed a fairfield boy close by; "wait till you see how our fellows fatten their averages on those nice little drop balloons. we've heard a heap about 'em, and have been practicing at hitting all such. why, mark my words, before the end of the fifth inning this wonderful elmer will be so tame he'll be eating out of the fairfield players' hands." "wait and see. the game is young," called another fellow. "i should say it was, when the first ball hasn't been sent over the rubber yet," declared still a fourth spectator. "play ball!" shouted the umpire, as he settled himself back of the pitcher. again came silence as elmer, receiving the ball from first base, rubbed it on the leg of his trousers preparatory to shooting the first one over. a shout went up. wagner, the stout second baseman, had failed to judge correctly and "one strike" was recorded against him. "but did you hear the swish of his bat?" demanded the fairfield enthusiast. "say, if ever he leans up against one of those curves, good-by to the ball, that's all." "sure! only let him lean; that's what we say. he just can't do it on elmer," answered a devoted hickory ridge lad near by. then came a second strike, followed by a foul. wagner looked puzzled. evidently he was watching the pitcher closely and going by his signals to the catcher, but as these had been turned almost completely about, he mistook every one of them and was letting himself out at what would easily have been called balls. when for the third time he had a strike called on him the batter retired amid a storm of mingled cheers and catcalls. he had allowed a good ball to pass by him without making an effort to strike, believing from the gestures of elmer that it was meant to be a wide one. wagner went off, shaking his head. he was evidently mystified, and the fairfield crowd began to sit up and take notice. "that's a funny thing for felix to do," they commented. "he's the most reliable batter in our bunch, and yet he acts as though he didn't know a good one from a wide curve a foot from the plate. say, that pitcher must have him locoed." next came adrian cook. he, too, was known as a hitter, and when he stepped to the batter's line the fielders were accustomed to backing off, ready for a terrific drive. but it began to look as though adrian must have forgotten to bring his batting clothes along with him, judging by the way he swiped at the empty air twice, and then managed to pop up a measly little foul that mark easily smothered in his big catcher's mitt. "what are we up against?" the fairfield crowd began to say. "oh, that's nothing," others put in, more confident. "the boys will wake up after a little. you wait and see them take his number. once they begin, the air will be full of balls and those fielders' tongues will hang out of their mouths from chasing them!" so they talked, as all partisan crowds do, while bastian toed the mark. he looked particularly dangerous as he half crouched there watching elmer like a cat might a mouse he expected to devour. but bastian was no better than the others who had preceded him. he had two strikes called on him by the umpire without having even made a motion. "hey, wake up! get out of that trance. jack! he's feeding you good ones and you don't know it! now, altogether, and send one out in center for a homer!" jack did his best, just as elmer knew he was bound to. he believed he saw the pitcher signal that he meant to cut the middle of the plate with the next; when in reality it was intended to be a wide one. and so he too perished, amid the cheers of hickory ridge, and the groans of fairfield. by the time another chance at bat came for matt tubbs's band, there would be excited conferences going on. these heavy batters would soon awaken to the fact that the signals given to them by lon braddock were all wrong; and that by trying to take a mean advantage of elmer they were only digging their own graves. matt tubbs was certainly at his best that day; and he had always been known as a clever pitcher. ted followed the fate of the three fairfield batters, and along the same road, for he struck out. toby lifted a great fly that soared away up in the air. he was making for second under full steam, believing that mcdowd out in center field could never get under the ball, when the cheers that broke forth announced a clever catch. and toby was compelled to walk back to the bench, resolving that another time he would try to put it far over mcdowd's head. lil artha succeeded in placing a corking one that landed him on first, to the accompaniment of riotous cheers; but he died there; for chatz was able only to connect with the ball after he had had two strikes called on him, and put up one of those miserable pop fouls that make a batter rave. so the second inning began. when cobb had also fanned at most unreasonable balls, that could never have been hit, his comrades stared at each other. there was a hasty conference. then matt tubbs was observed to say something to the next batter, poole. elmer smiled broadly at mark, and nodded. it was just as though he had remarked the words: "it's all off, mark, they've finally caught on to the fact that we've switched our signals. and now to play a different brand of ball!" that was exactly what the fairfield players had decided. when such batters made guys of themselves trying to meet balls that never came where they expected to find them, the truth could not long remain hidden. and now tubbs had told his players to forget entirely everything they had learned from lon braddock. they must depend on their own judgment of balls, and nothing else. poole struck a vicious one, but it fell foul clearly enough, so that there was no chance for any disputing the umpire's decision. "see that!" exclaimed a spectator; "they're getting his size already. if that had only landed fair it would have been a two-bagger." elmer realized that the time had already come to play the game. the next one he sent in was with exactly the same movement that he used to shoot a cannon-ball express over the rubber; yet it hung there in the air in the most exasperating manner, passing over the plate long after poole had struck. then arose a tremendous shout as the crowd became aware of the fact that elmer had disclosed his long suit--that tantalizing floating drop by which matthewson long ago won his fame on the diamond. "get that, did you, partner!" laughed the hickory ridge backer, turning to the adherent of the rival nine. "now you'll see who's going to do the eating out of hand business. before the ninth inning comes he'll have your fellows breaking their poor old backs trying to connect with that dead one. just wait, and see the fun!" poole did not get on base, but perished on a feeble little infield hit that lil artha gobbled close to the bag, prancing back with ease. "gee, look at that daddy-long-legs, will you!" shouted an amazed fairfield rooter, as he stared at the way lil artha got over the ground. "hey, if he ever gets his base he c'n just _step_ down to second! no cutting him off by a throw." mcdowd, the center fielder, generally a reliable batter, did succeed in making a hit, the ball just eluding the fingers of red at short, as he jumped up in the air, hoping to make a dazzling stop. but it did him no good. elmer just toyed with mulligan, and after feeding him two swift curves with which he could not connect, he gave him one of those lovely slow balls. now mulligan was a crafty chap, and he saw what was coming. thinking to have the laugh on elmer, he declined to strike; and was already grinning with joy over his smartness, when the ball seemed to receive a new impetus somehow, and went jumping by. "batter's out!" declared the umpire; at which mulligan dashed his bat down, and walked away, also shaking his head. the crowd yelled like mad. this was work well worth coming miles to see. "he's got them all guessing," shouted larry billings, who was also in uniform as a substitute. "if they strike at it, they fan the air; and if they hold off the umpire says 'get out!' it's a cold, cruel world, fairfield!" red was first to face tubbs in their half of the second. he waited until he had two strikes and three balls called; and then, knowing that the pitcher in nine cases out of ten tries to put one straight over, red lined it out for a single. ty stepped up with a firm manner, and gripped his bat as though he meant business. he spoiled several good ones by knocking long fouls, and finally walked. as two were now on bases with nobody out, the chances for a tally looked good to the hickory ridge fellows. amid a chorus of shouts matty stepped up and, hitting the first ball a tremendous swipe, sent it speeding through the air. everybody jumped up to see where it went. they saw the agile felix wagner near second make a leap upward. as he came down he whirled, and sent the ball into second; and mulligan, who had darted thither was just like lightning in getting it down to first. red and ty were thus caught between bases and a most brilliant triple play had been accomplished. "why, he caught it!" gasped the hickory ridge enthusiast, as though unable to believe the evidence of his eyes. "you just bet he did," mocked the other fellow. "and the whole side's out in two shakes of the lamb's tail. zip, bang, splash; and it's all over! that's the way we do it." the crowd went fairly wild, even the people from hickory ridge joining in the applause that greeted this clever play. and so the game went on, both sides struggling like giants for an opening; yet the third, fourth and fifth innings passed with no one getting past that fatal second. the first half of the sixth opened with fairfield looking dangerous. elmer had passed wagner, it being the first time he had given anyone transportation on four balls. cook went out on three strikes, being led to bite at a slow one in the critical moment. bastian hit for a single, and by clever running wagner managed to reach third. the crowd sat up and began to figure on a run, as there was only one man out, and almost any kind of a fly would allow wagner to come in. but they counted without their host. cobb failed to do anything, also going out on the three-strike route. and poole shot one straight for red at short, who gathered it up in fine shape, getting the ball to first ahead of the runner. a sigh went up from the great crowd. with the fairfield rooters it signified despair; while those who were backing the other team expressed their relief that elmer had managed to get out of a hole successfully. "now, fellows, it's time we did something," remarked lil artha, as the boys settled down on the ground, and toby was selecting his bat, it being his turn to toe the rubber. "right you are, old hoss," remarked that worthy, grimly. "we've tried matt tubbs out, and got his wrinkles down pat. just keep your eyes on me, and see if i don't flatten out one of his benders for keeps!" "more power to your elbow, toby," said lil artha. "just get your base somehow, and depend on me to chase you in." "and he can do it, toby," declared chatz, as the batter passed him. "yes, i've just got to, boys," chuckled the tall captain, as his eye roved out toward that particular place where elmer had told him to aim; just as though he might be picking a good spot to land his ball. chapter xv. lil artha plants his garden in deep center. "crack!" "he did it!" yelled the hickory ridge fellows, as toby started on a run for the first sack, while bastian was chasing the ball in short right. "bully boy, toby! you're it!" shrieked an excited rooter, jumping up and down as he swung his hat, and ending by dancing a hornpipe, to the amusement of some of the crowd, though a disgusted cramertown fellow loudly advised him to "hire a hall." "now lil artha, you know what to do!" called a fellow near by. "does he!" echoed larry billings, waving his hand at the speaker. "well, just keep your eye on him, that's all. oh, it's good-by to that ball. it's going over into the next county!" the tall captain of the hickory ridge nine stood at the plate in what some people considered a careless attitude. "why, he doesn't seem to care whether he hits the ball or not," they declared. "i think matt tubbs ought to have a snap with that bean pole!" but every batter has his favorite way of waiting for the ball. some swing their bats nervously, and often fail to recover in time; others stand there like statues, with every nerve contracted, and their eyes fixed on the pitcher. lil artha did neither. he chopped at the tuft of short grass near the rubber, nodded at tubbs, and then slouched there in his ungainly attitude. but matt tubbs was not deceived in the least. he knew that in lil artha he had the most dangerous batter in the entire nine to contend with. his movements were like lightning, once he started. one, two, three balls followed in rapid succession. "hey, he's afraid of lil artha! he's goin' to give him his base!" arose the shout. it looked very much that way, and lil artha himself feared that he was about to be cheated out of his chance for that little garden beyond right center. those agile fairfield fellows must be thinking that triple plays grow on bushes; and the pitcher was hoping to have another pulled off. "smash!" "oh, what a hit!" "he leaned way out, and took a wide curve right on the nose!" "look at her go, would you!" "a home run hit, fellows; bully for lil artha! he's all to the good!" "what would he do if he was twice as tall, hey, tell me that?" demanded a disgusted fairfield backer, as he watched the two figures careering around the circuit. "watch him run, boys! why, he could get home ahead of toby. there they come in, neck and neck!" "but where's the ball?" demanded one fellow. "mcdowd is chasing it yet. he'll get it after a while. there never was such a long hit made on these grounds, that's dead sure. it was a peach!" two runs looked pretty big in such a bitterly contested game. "even if we don't get another, that ought to win, if elmer can keep up his fine work," mr. garrabrant declared, as he sat in the midst of his boys, and shook hands with the tall panting first baseman as he dropped down. "then we've just got to work to hold them, see?" said red, who was picking out a hat, as chatz had stepped cut to the rubber. "oh, don't got that notion in your heads, boys," laughed elmer. "perhaps we can add a few more for good measure. matt may be rattled after those two screamers. try and hit her out, red." but matt tubbs instead of being upset by his misfortunes seemed better than ever. he easily disposed of chatz; and while red did get on first through an error of the shortstop, who threw wide, he died there. ty shot up a zigzag foul that ballinger managed to just grasp, after staggering back and forth like a drunken man in the effort to judge its eccentric motions; and matty's offering was taken by cook in left field. so the seventh began. the fairfield rooters, faithful to their team, began to call out encouraging words, such as the "lucky seventh." mcdowd started out well. he drew a pass by refusing to try to take the slow one that just failed to cross over the rubber. then he stole second, though mark got the ball down to red in good style; but a great slide saved the runner, according to the umpire, who was on the spot. there was no protest against the decision, even though most of the hickory ridge players thought the man was fairly out. they were much too game to show that they could not take their medicine when the decision went against their side. elmer put on a little more speed. "hey!" called out mulligan as he stood there and heard a strike called: "what're ye thryin' to do wid me, elmer? sure that wan had whiskers on it: i heard 'em brush past me leg. thry it again, me honey, and see what i do." he tried to bunt the next one, but made a failure of the job; for elmer had readily guessed that such must be his orders, with that man on second. so mulligan passed away, being fed one of the teasers that he tried to meet by stepping forward, but without the slightest success. next came ballinger, the catcher. like most men behind the bat, accustomed to seeing all manner of balls coming toward men throughout the whole game, ballinger was a fairly good man with the stick. he believed he could pick out a good one, and do something worth while. his best was a high fly that ty gathered in away out in deep center; but after the ball settled in his hands mcdowd managed to make third, again by a slide, at which he seemed particularly clever. it was now up to matt tubbs. adopting the tactics of his rival when lil artha was at bat, elmer sought to pass the hard-hitting pitcher of the fairfields. he had given two balls when matt reached out, and took one that was intended as a wide curve. it shot past matty near second, and went buzzing out into the field. even then it was tagged with so much speed that before it could be sent in home mcdowd had scored, and tubbs was nestled on the second bag. then arose a fearful roar. if only wagner had found his batting eye he would surely send his captain home with the tying run. "lucky seven, felix! you know what we want! everybody holler!" such a terrible racket as ensued. of course part of this came from excitement; but there was also a desire to put heart in the fairfield players, as well as to rattle elmer. he showed no sign of going to pieces. his manner would indicate that he was as cool as a cucumber. wagner was dancing around the home plate, trying to tantalize the opposing pitcher. "strike one!" called the umpire, as a good one whizzed past. "get up against it, felix. quit your kiddin', and do business. it only takes one to bring matt in!" shouted a player. wagner now toed the mark, and prepared to strike. the shouts died away as quickly as they had sprung into existence. all eyes were on the pitcher, and the lad who stood there, lazily swinging his bat forward and back in regular rhythm, as he endeavored to gauge the coming delivery of the ball. judgment at such a critical time has to come with the rapidity of lightning. in the flash of an eye the batter has to decide whether it is a drop, an out curve, an inward shoot, a straight, swift one over the rubber, or a teaser that will apparently start out well, only to hold up in mid-air, and leave him to strike long before the ball gets within reaching distance. wagner waited and struck at a slow drop. what was more, he hit it, too, a vicious tap that electrified the entire crowd. again those who were sitting down jumped up to see what had happened. they evidently expected to see one of the fielders running like mad after the ball. nothing of the sort. red simply threw out, and touched matt tubbs as he tried to get back to second in great haste, after realizing that the ball had been shot straight into the hands of short. it was, of course, a double play, unassisted. and tumultuous cheers followed as the hickory ridge boys came trotting in from the field. nothing would do but that red must take off his cap, and thus acknowledge the fact that the fickle populace wished to do him honor. in their half of the seventh the hickory ridge fellows made another hard bid for a run. elmer, the first man up, drove the first ball pitched out in right for a single. mark duplicated the performance, only he seemed rather to fancy the left garden for his planting. two on bases, and none out! catcalls and groans marked the disgust of the rooters who wanted to see fairfield win, while loud cheers told the club at bat that their friends expected them to add to the score this inning. but that wizard tubbs was at it again. he mowed ted down without mercy. the batter afterward declared that the ball went past him with wings on it; and that he couldn't make sure whether it passed over the rubber or two feet outside. toby had been fairly lucky in meeting the offerings of matt; but he, too, fell a victim. meanwhile the fellows on bases, much as they wanted to engineer a double steal, found not the slightest chance to do so, with this clockwork going on between the pitcher and catcher. lil artha was up again. would he duplicate his previous performance, and send out a homer? mcdowd evidently feared as much, to judge from the way he went back. but lil artha fooled them all, for he dropped a little one between first and second, and while nobody got home on the hit, he managed to gain first through the fumble. chatz had a glorious opportunity presented to him. a hit would mean two more tallies. chatz tried his best, and connected with a good one. with the crack of the bat the crowd uttered a thrilling shout. then they saw poole, playing just off first, gather the ball in with astonishing cleverness, and leap for his bag. in the eighth it was just one, two, three for fairfield. elmer bad them guessing all the time with his curves, his change to a swift one, and then that terrible teaser that only one fellow had as yet managed to connect with, and that to his side's undoing. nor were the hickory ridge boys able to add more runs in their half, four batters only facing tubbs. the ninth opened. unless fairfield could score one run to tie, the game would end then and there, the hickory ridge fellows having no need to go in again. it was a tense situation when, with one man on second, and but a single fellow out, elmer stood up to his work, smiling, cool and satisfied that he could do it, with the fine assistance he was receiving from his backing. in vain did the next batter try to connect. one little foul was the best he was able to do. that brought it to the last one, who chanced to be the hard-hitting catcher, ballinger. a dead silence fell upon the crowd as elmer began to feed him slow ones. once ballinger struck, and was greeted by a whoop from the excited hickory ridge rooters, anxiously watching every move. the next one he declined to touch; and lo, it went over the plate for a second strike. rendered desperate finally, and seeing still a third floater coming sailing wabblingly along, ballinger stepped forward and made a vicious swing for it, only to have his bat pass through thin air. then arose a tumultuous whoop. the game was over, and the score stood two to one in favor of hickory ridge. while the shouts of the multitude were still ringing out, elmer made straight for the rival pitcher, and thrust out his hand. "bully for you, matt," he said. "it was so even that one little thing settled it--that home run hit. and if you haven't won this game, matt, it's plain to be seen you've won another that counts for much more. i say good luck to the scouts of fairfield. they're going to make things hum around here, i guess." "that's nice of you, elmer," returned matt, quietly, yet with a gleam of satisfaction in his eye. "somebody's got to lose, and next time it may be you fellers. but i reckon as how fairfield people knows by now that things has changed some since these here games used to break up in a row. never again. we're in this scout business for keeps now, and you got to look out, elmer, if you don't want us to beat you when the two troops get together for tests." chapter xvi. the mystery solved. "i want you to go over with me to colonel hitchins, mark," said elmer, on the morning after the great victory over the fairfield scout nine. "oh, see here, has it anything to do with that mystery connected with my cap being found under those peach trees that were robbed?" demanded mark, jumping up; for his chum had found him in his den, busily engaged. "perhaps," smiled the other. "and oh, by the way, mark, perhaps you'd better be sure and wear the very cap that was found. i might want to show it to the colonel again for a purpose." he declined to say anything more, even though mark teased him as he got his own wheel out, and the two started forth. "just you hold your horses," he said, shaking his head stubbornly. "sometimes it seems like a long night, but daylight always comes in the end." "i take that to mean you've made some sort of discovery, then," declared mark; "and honest, now, elmer, i'll be mighty glad to know the truth. that thing has puzzled me a heap, i admit. perhaps phil lally has confessed that he found my cap, and left it there when he robbed the trees, meaning to have me looked on as the thief." "shucks, phil lally never saw your cap; and even if he did he wouldn't know it from mine or some other fellow's. "wait, and don't get so impatient. unless i miss my guess, it'll soon be old history," and elmer led the way along the road at a hot pace. they soon arrived at the place of colonel hitchins. "there's phil lally working in the garden, and he looks satisfied with the way things have come out," remarked elmer, as they passed toward the mansion. "why shouldn't he be?" argued mark. "if phil had his deserts, he'd be on the way to a ten-year sentence at the penitentiary right now. but the old gentleman knew what he was doing when he gave him this last chance; and i really believe the fellow will make good now." "i'm dead sure of it," elmer added. "he's had his eyes opened, and the thought of his old and fond mother is going to keep him on the narrow path. but say, turn aside here, and let's take a peep at the tool house, where i had that little rumpus saturday night." "i'd like to see it," remarked the other, eagerly; for by this time he knew all the particulars of his chum's exciting adventure, and was deeply interested in everything that pertained to it. so they walked around the tool house, and even stepped inside, while elmer proceeded to once more relate how he had managed to fasten the two men in, after they had entered in search of kerosene. "hello!" remarked elmer, finally, "there's bruno wagging his tail at us; he knows me by now, and we are pretty good friends; but, all the same, i don't mean to get too close to him when his master isn't around." "he's a fine looking dog, as sure as anything," observed mark. "he sure is," elmer went on, and then added: "see him shake that old shoe he has in his mouth! just imagine it to be some other dog that bruno is fighting with. i'd hate to have those teeth set in my leg, wouldn't you, mark?" "well, rather," came the ready reply. "but look there, do they give him old shoes and such things to play with; i can count three close by his kennel right now? perhaps it's the right thing for a dog's teeth, to chew on old leather." elmer laughed out loud at the suggestion. "that's a new one on me," he declared; "but here comes phil lally from the garden. let's put it up to him. he's been with the colonel some time, and ought to be on to some of the tricks of bruno." phil lally smiled at seeing elmer. he had taken a great liking to the boy; and no doubt had heard some things in connection with him from his employer at the time they talked matters over. "glad to see yuh here this fine morning, elmer," he remarked. "and they tell me yuh knocked the fairfield team out yesterday, good and hard. the kunnel says it was the best game he ever saw, barring none, and he's an old hand, yuh know." "we all thought it a dandy," laughed elmer; "and every fellow deserved a share of the glory. i pitched my best; but where would we have been if it hadn't happened that lil artha drove out that homer, fetching a run in ahead of him? but mark here was wondering if you fed bruno on old shoes; or gave them to him to keep his teeth in good condition, because there are just three around here. we don't happen to be from missouri, phil, but we want to know." the man laughed loudly. "well, after all, it looks that ways, elmer," he said. "but the fact is, nobody wants to make bruno mad by takin' away his playthings. i tried it once, and would yuh believe it, the critter made a jump for me, and growled so ugly that after that i jest vowed he could keep piling 'em up, for all of me." "oh, i see; then you don't toss them to him?" said mark, while his chum smiled, as though fairly well satisfied with the way the conversation had turned. "who, me, give bruno them old shoes?" ejaculated phil lally. "well, i guess not. he gets 'em all hisself. it's an old trick of bruno's. there have been times when he's had as much as seven old shoes layin' around here at one time. when i gets a chanct i sneaks 'em away an' buries the same. got a regular cemetery fur old shoes back o' the stable." "but where does he get them, if he's chained up here all the time?" asked mark. "what, him?" echoed the gardener. "oh, nobody don't seem able to keep that slick customer chained up no great time at a stretch. sometimes i've knowed him to slip his collar as many as four nights a week." "you mean he gets away?" asked elmer, helping things along; for he began to see mark casting eyes at him suspiciously. "always that. bruno, he's a wanderer. he's got the habit bad; and as soon as he gets loose it's hike for him. but i will say he always knows when to come home, and in the morning we find him in his kennel, tuckered out mebbe, but happy." "but do you mean he brings one of those old shoes home with him every time?" demanded mark. "he jest wont come home without _something_ like that in his mouth," continued the gardener. "i've seen him adoin' of the same, and had to laugh at the critter. once it was a lady's hat. we reckoned that it must a' blew off when she was goin' past in a car at a fast clip, and they couldn't find it. but bruno lighted on it, easy like." "a lady's hat!" muttered mark, and then he faced his chum, adding: "look here now, elmer, you didn't come back to see bruno just by accident. you had a reason for doing it? own up now!" elmer nodded his head and snickered. "let me take that cap of yours, mark," he said, and the article in question was eagerly handed over to him. "look here, phil, this cap was found under those peach trees you've heard about, and on the morning the colonel discovered they had been raided. luckily my chum was able to prove that he couldn't have been here; and a lot of us knew that he had lost this cap a mile away on the bank of the sunflower, just as evening set in. but it's been a dark mystery how it got here." phil had turned red at mention of the peach trees. then his glance went past elmer to the big siberian wolf hound. "i reckon it must be up to bruno, then," he remarked. "let's see--yes, he was off that night, else i'd never dared do what i did." "and if you examine the inside of the cap," elmer went on, steadily, "you'll find the lining all torn, as if he had been shaking it like he did that old shoe just now. the marks look to me like teeth had torn the lining. and when the colonel handed it to me, i could feel that it seemed to be more or less wet inside." "proven beyond the least doubt!" cried mark, smiling broadly. "bruno came on my cap while he was scouring the country. he fetched it home, as he does other things that have belonged to people. and when he was going past those peach trees he got scent of the fact that some one had been there during his absence. so perhaps he laid the cap down, to nose all around, and forgot to pick it up again!" "that's just my theory to a dot," laughed elmer; "so on the whole, i guess, mark, you'd better call it solved, and let the matter drop." "i'm only too willing," replied the other, nodding. "but don't you think we owe it to the colonel to take him into the secret?" "i sure do," replied elmer; "because he was puzzled as much as we were. still, you remember he was ready to own up that he couldn't believe you guilty; no matter if a dozen caps bearing your initials were found under his trees." "that shows what it means tuh have a good reputation," remarked phil lally between his set teeth. "but, boys, never again for me. i've seen what a fool road i was trampin' with that habit of mine, and i've changed my course. i'm goin' tuh make good this time, or bust a b'iler tryin'." "you'll make it, never fear, phil, with such a good friend to help you as the gentleman you work for. i believe in you," said elmer, thrusting out his hand; for something told him that the young fellow needed all the encouragement possible at this critical stage in his uplifting. so they did go in to see the colonel, who was deeply interested in the theory. elmer had to explain how his chum's cap chanced to be found that morning under the raided trees, when it was lost the evening previous away over on the bank of the little sunflower river. "no doubt of it, elmer," he declared immediately. "you've proved it beyond the shadow of a doubt. if bruno had put his visiting card inside the lining he couldn't have done more when he made these tears with his sharp teeth. seems to me as if i can see where every tooth went in. but let's forget all about that matter now, and talk about your magnificent victory of yesterday." "we may have beaten the fairfield team by the narrow margin of one run, sir," remarked elmer, "but there was one fellow against us who did a heap more than that, i give it to you straight." "who was that, elmer, and what did he do that was so great? i'm sure, after seeing the game i fail to catch your meaning," remarked the gentleman. "it was matt tubbs, sir; and he won a victory over himself which i take it counts for more than just a single little tally in a baseball game. if that had been the same old matt tubbs of old, we'd never have finished that game, for he'd have ended it in a row. as it was, he shook hands with every hickory ridge player, and complimented them on the fierce fight they put up. it was just fine! and they used to say matt tubbs was a rowdy who could never be made to see how he was wronging his family, all fairfield, and himself worst of all, by his ugly ways. don't tell me, anybody, that this boy scout movement isn't working wonders in lots of cases." "i believe you, elmer," replied the colonel, softly. "i have been pretty much a gruff old soldier myself, and often scorned such an idea as gaining anything worth while without a fight for it; but i'm beginning to look at things in another light, boys, another light. peace has its victories as well as war; and they count most in the long run, i reckon. i'm going to take more interest in these boys than ever i did before, because i'm learning something in my old age." but the great victory over fairfield was not the only event that marked the closing days of that summer vacation, and in another volume we shall have something to say about an occurrence which the hickory ridge boy scouts were inclined to set down in their troop log-book as a matter of history never to be forgotten. the end. addenda boy scout nature lore boy scout nature lore to be found in the hickory ridge boy scout series. wild animals of the united states } tracking } in number i. the campfires of the wolf patrol. trees and wild flowers of the united states in number ii. woodcraft, or how a patrol leader made good. reptiles of the united states in number iii. pathfinder, or the missing tenderfoot. fishes of the united states in number iv. fast nine, or a challenge from fairfield. insects of the united states in number v. great hike, or the pride of the khaki troop. birds of the united states in number vi. endurance test, or how clear grit won the day. fishes of the united states fish are vertebrate animals living in water and having, instead of legs, fins which are adapted to rapid movement in the water. they breathe through gills instead of lungs. the principal order of fish is known as the teleostei or bony fishes. other orders are the elasmobranchii or fishes without a bony skeleton, ganoidei, and a small order called the holocephali. fishing since the earliest recorded times has always been an industry as well as a sport with mankind. great commercial seaports have developed from beginnings as small fishing towns, and fishing privileges are often incorporated in international treaties. the most important of the american fisheries are the cod, herring, mackerel, menhaden, halibut, salmon and whitefish fisheries. the elasmobranchii. these are fishes which have no bony skeleton. in place of bone they have an elastic tissue or gristle. there are two sub-orders--those having round bodies, like the sharks and dog-fish, and those having flat bodies, like the rays and skates. sharks. shark is a general name applied to all the larger round-bodied elasmobranchii. they are powerful and rapid swimmers and many of the larger forms are found in mid-ocean. the smaller ones keep closer to the shore. although a few are found in arctic regions, they do not attain the great size there that they do in warmer waters. they are carnivorous, that is, they feed on animal matter, and most of them have strong teeth. the chinese consider shark fins a great delicacy and many are exported from california to the east. the fins are also a source of gelatine. the tope is a small shark found in tropical and temperate seas. it averages about six feet in length. its habit of making away with bait and scaring off other fish makes it unpopular with fishermen. the color of the tope is gray above and whitish gray beneath. it swims along the bottom of the water, feeding upon fish, crustaceans, etc. this fish is not common in american waters. the hammer-head shark. the characteristic peculiarity of this shark is its broad, flat head, which accounts for its name. its eyes are set on projections from the side of the head. they have been known to reach a length of fifteen feet. sometimes they are seen in the north atlantic. they are formidable and greedy. the topes and hammerheads belong to the same shark family. the porbeagle is a shark that is found in the north atlantic and is known to fishermen as the mackerel shark. it feeds principally upon fish. a length of ten feet is attained. it bolts its food, the teeth being adapted to hold its slippery prey. [illustration: hammer-head shark.] the thresher, thrasher or fox shark is a cousin of the porbeagle. its peculiar characteristic is its long tail. both the atlantic and pacific contain these fish. a length of fifteen feet is often reached. it will not attack man, but preys on small fishes. swimming suddenly into schools of these, it flaps its tail rapidly, killing and devouring them in large numbers. these sharks are often found in companies attacking large whales. the basking shark derives its name from its habit of lying at the top of the water with its upper back above the water line. this is the largest shark found in the atlantic. it reaches a length of over thirty feet. the oil which its liver yields is valued and it is hunted on this account. it will not attack man. dog-fish is the general name for sharks of the families scyllidæ and spinacidæ. dog-fish are the smaller types of sharks. they are sometimes eaten by fishermen on the orkney islands, a group of islands off the northern coast of scotland, where they are dried for winter use. their rough skins are used for polishing wood and is called shagreen. the dog-fishes reach a length of three or four feet. they frequently carry off the fishermen's captures from the lines. skates and rays. these are flat-bodied elasmobranchii. skate is the common name applied to any one of the numerous species of flat elasmobranchii whose large, broad fins give it a somewhat diamond-shaped form. the commonest and smallest skate of the eastern coast of the united states is the "tobacco box." the "barn door" skate sometimes reaches a length of four feet, and the great pacific coast skate is sometimes six feet long. the sting ray bears on its tail a toothed spine some eight inches long and capable of inflicting a painful wound. its tail is long and slim. as a rule they are confined to warm seas, but at least one species extends throughout the atlantic and pacific. the devil-fish or eagle ray is a member of the family of millstone rays, so called because of their peculiar teeth, which are adapted to crush the shells of the mollusks on which they prey. the tail is long and slim. some devil-fish occasionally measure from fifteen to eighteen feet across. pearl and sponge divers greatly fear these ugly creatures. the name devil-fish is also given to the octopus and to the goosefish or angler. the torpedo or electric ray is a name given to any one of the numerous rays having the power of giving electrical shocks. they thus stun the fish upon which they feed. they also use this power in self-defense. the large torpedoes can stun a man. [illustration: sawfish--from below.] the sawfish is a ray in which the snout is elongated and edged with strong teeth. these sawlike edges have given the fish its name. it strikes with this weapon and slashes open the bodies of its prey. the holocephali. this is not a large order. the name is made up of two greek words, meaning "all head." a few peculiar forms belong here, principally the chimera, popularly known as the sea cat. these fish resemble sharks. they are found in the colder sea water. their tail is long and thread like. the head is large and the fish's remarkable appearance has given it the name chimera, after the legendary animal that homer describes as shaped like a lion in the fore part, a dragon in the hind part and a goat in the middle. the ganoids. there are seven living kinds of ganoid fish and all are found in fresh water. only six of these are found in waters of the united states. all of them have skin with bony scales which shine as though enameled. the sturgeon inhabit waters of the temperate zone of the northern hemisphere. they reach a length of over ten feet and feed upon worms and shell fish, which they pry out of the sandy or muddy bottoms with their sharp snout. they have five rows of bony scales. their eggs form an article of commerce, caviar being prepared from them. the material known as isinglass is made from the air bladders of the sturgeon. they are found in the great lakes and the larger rivers. the type most commonly found in the mississippi is called the shovel-nose sturgeon. the columbian sturgeon of the pacific coast states is a large species. the bow-fin or mud-fish is a fish found in the still waters of the united states. it is known by many names. the flesh, while eatable, is not good. in length it does not exceed a couple of feet. the gar-pike, bony-pike, or bill-fish. the body of this fish is covered with bony scales. it has a peculiar snout containing sharp teeth. in the lower mississippi occurs a large type known as the alligator gar or manjuari. [illustration: sturgeon.] the paddle-fish is peculiarly characterized by its broad, thin, oarlike snout. many popular names have been given to it, such as spadebill, spoonbill, duckbill. it is found in the rivers of the mississippi valley and reaches a length of about five feet. the shovel-nose sturgeon, or white sturgeon, is confined to the mississippi and its tributaries, and is quite common in certain localities. it has a slender body, especially so behind the fins, and its peculiarly shaped snout has given it the name it bears. the bony fishes or teleosteans. by far the largest and the most important order of fishes, containing the large majority of living types. they differ from the ganoid fishes by having soft scales and a complete bony skeleton. the yellow perch. the yellow perch is found in all the waters of the atlantic slope. it does not occur in the lower mississippi valley. it frequents quiet pools of meadow brooks, creeks, etc., preferring the stream's sides or the sandy, pebbly bottom. the larger specimens come from rivers and creeks. perch seldom weigh more than one or two pounds. they feed on grubs, worms, insects, and small fishes. they are graceful in movement and the coloration is beautiful. the sides are streaked with dusky bands and the fins are ruddy. one way to catch perch is with a pole, stout line, large float, and heavy sinker, using a worm or minnow for bait. this will do when the water is muddied and the fish are hungry. in clear water, use a finer line and reel, a small float and a sinker only heavy enough to keep the float steady. the bait should be suspended about a foot from the bottom. the striped bass. [illustration: striped bass.] the striped bass in the south is known as the rock fish, or the rock. this fish is particularly common in the open stretches of large rivers. it is a popular food fish and it is estimated that over , pounds of striped bass are eaten each year in the united states. they are voracious feeders and when in the rivers they prey upon small fishes. they frequent the surf of ocean beaches and rocky shores. the fisherman holds this fish in deservedly high esteem. they are caught in creeks, using shrimps or clams for bait. when fishing for these in the swift tideways, menhaden bait is used. scott, in his "fishing in american waters," says: "casting menhaden bait for striped bass from the rocky shores of the bays, estuaries, and islands along the atlantic coasts constitutes the highest branch of american angling. it is, indeed, questionable--when considering all the elements which contribute to the sum-total of sport in angling--whether this method of striped bass fishing is not superior to fly-fishing for salmon, and if so, it outranks any angling in the world." the rod to use in this style of fishing should not be longer than nine feet and should be very light, the lines about two or three hundred yards long. the bass are attracted by casting chopped menhaden upon the water. an oil gathers upon the surface of the water and the fish swim toward the fishermen. the white bass. the white bass, or striped lake bass, is often mistaken for the striped bass. it is common in the great lakes region and especially the ohio. it is found chiefly in lakes, ponds, and deeper parts of rivers. it feeds upon small fish. as food it is highly prized. the yellow bass. the yellow bass is sometimes called the bar-fish. it frequents the lower mississippi, where the water is deep and sluggish. the color is yellow and the black stripes are prominent. the white perch. the white perch is found in the waters at the mouths of rivers. its average length is eight or nine inches. fish for them off a deep-sunk pier or a bridge, baiting with a live minnow. the sea bass. the sea bass exists in a great many varieties and has been given many names, such as black-fish, rock bass, black will, black bass, etc. the favorite haunts of sea bass are the rocky bays and sounds of the atlantic coasts. it feeds at the bottom and rarely comes to the surface, being fond of lying under loose stones and in rock cavities. its food is made up of crabs, squids, small fish, etc. on account of the toughness of its mouth this fish, when once hooked, is not easily lost. the best time to catch them is between tides. in new england they average about a pound and a half. the flesh of the sea bass is firm and sweet. the fishing banks off sandy hook and long branch yield thousands of these fish annually. the bait most often used is clams. the groupers. the red grouper, or groper, is a large fish, reaching an occasional weight of forty or fifty pounds, but is not common on our coasts, except in the far south. it is voracious in feeding. in the gulf of mexico it is abundant. it feeds on crustaceans and small fish, and even large crabs. as a food fish it is considered excellent. the black grouper is called the "jew-fish." it is a common fish along the gulf coast. the jew-fish attains a large size and will swallow a hooked fish, hooks, lead, line and all. the pacific jew-fish is sometimes called the black sea bass and is the largest food fish of this coast, reaching a weight of five hundred pounds. black bass. black bass are found widely distributed over the atlantic slope. they are not particular in their diet, eating many kinds of food--fish, crawfish, moths, flies, frogs, and even rats and snakes. they can leap powerfully. it is said that the best time to take them is at night, or when rivers are high and muddy. there are two types, the large-mouth and the small-mouth. bass may be caught by using artificial flies or minnows, or live minnows, small frogs, grasshoppers, or by the use of trolling spoon. the sun-fish. the sun-fish is the "sunny" or "pumpkin-seed" of new york and new england brooks. it is common, too, in the great lakes region and the coast streams as far south as georgia. it prefers clear, still water. the red breast is a sun-fish which is known also by such names as the "brim," "pearch," "red-headed bream," "sun perch," "red-bellied bream," and "red-bellied pearch." the blue sun-fish is the most widely distributed of the sun-fishes. it is also called "the blue bream," "copper-nosed bream," and "dollardee." the strawberry bass. the strawberry bass is another fish abounding in names. it is called "the strawberry perch," "grass bass," "bitter head perch," "lamplighter," "razor back," "chinquapin perch," "silver bass," "big fin bass," "calico bass," "goggle eye." it resorts to deep, sluggish waters. as a pan fish it is surpassed by few other fresh-water fishes. the crappie or croppie is closely related to the strawberry bass. the snappers and grunts. the snappers and grunts are the brightly colored fishes of the coral reefs. the red snapper is bright crimson and is abundant in the gulf of mexico and about the florida reefs, living in holes and gullies. it feeds upon small fish, crabs, and prawns. snappers are always boiled or cooked in a chowder. they are caught with a bottom bait of fish. the gray snapper lacks the brilliant color of the red snapper. it is also known as the black snapper and sea lawyer. the red mouths or grunts are small fish found in the inshore waters of the gulf and south atlantic states. they resemble the snappers and are characterized by the red color of the inside of mouth and throat. on account of this peculiarity they are sometimes called flannel-mouths. when taken they utter a peculiar sound, hence the name "grunts," "pig-fish," and "squirrel-fish." the black grunt is brownish in color. it is found as far north as charleston. the norfolk hog-fish is brown, spotted with orange and yellow. the sheepheads have large heads, strong jaws and teeth. they are sluggish in movement, feeding among the rocks close to the bottom. they derive their name from their resemblance in profile to the sheep. they are known by this name wherever found. in new york harbor, jersey, and long island coasts they are common. barnacles and crustaceans form an important part of their diet and frequent old wrecks to which their food adhered. their teeth are fitted to crush their food. they are shy and will take the bait more confidently if it is allowed to lie at the bottom. when they bite, give a short, quick, but not too violent jerk. the average weight of this fish is about six pounds. they are one of the finest food fish. the porgy. the scuppaug, or mishcuppauog, is a name of indian origin. in some parts it is abbreviated into the "scup," and in others the second syllable is used, paugy or porgy, notwithstanding that the true porgy is an english fish of an entirely different kind. the southern scup is called the "fair maid." the food of these fishes consists of worms, mollusks, etc. it is largely used as a pan fish. the weak-fish. the weak-fish about the cape cod section are called "drummers." further south they are known as "yellow fins" and "sea trout." along the shore from norfolk to nantucket they are abundant, arriving in late may and departing early in the autumn. august is the best month for weak-fish. they feed on small fish. catching the weak-fish is considered great sport because so many can be taken in a short time. they swim near the surface and require a line little leaded. clams, soft crabs, or pieces of fish may be used as bait, which they snap at. on account of the tenderness of their mouths, care must be taken in hauling them in. at flood tide they will be found in the channel, but at ebb they seek some deep hole. the indian name for this fish was the squeteague. the hake. the hake, known also as the king-fish, barb, tom cod, black mullet, sea mink, and whiting. mr. a. n. cheney tells us that in fishing for this fish, "a light rod and multiplying reel, a strong and very light line, a swivel sinker, and two rather small hooks are what is required in the way of tackle, much the same rig as is used in weak-fishing. the bait is either shredded crab or sand-worm. the king-fish is thoroughly game; he seizes the bait eagerly and then goes to the bottom, following up this movement with long runs from right to left; it is really remarkable what a determined resistance the little king-fish will make. in size he varies from one to six pounds, the average being two or three pounds. the time to fish for them is when the tide is running in. king-fish can be caught along the south side of long island, off the jersey coast at atlantic city, long branch, and barnegat inlet, and further south they are very common." the whitings. the whitings are food fishes of the southern coast. they are abundant in the spring and summer near charleston, taking the bait readily. the bait which seems best is pieces of drum. deep running water is their favorite haunt. the drum. the drum is another large food fish. it is found most abundantly in the gulf of mexico and southern atlantic states. the name is derived from the noise it is capable of making, which is similar to drumming. it swims slowly along the bottom, where it feeds on shell-fish. the fresh-water drum is called "sheepshead" in the great lakes. in other places the "white perch," "gray perch," "crocus," "thunder-pumper." the cobia. the cobia prefers clear, deep water. one writer says of this fish that "he looks as if harnessed with a pair of traces and his behavior on a fly-rod is that of a wild horse." this appearance is due to the straight stripes of brown and gray on its sides which has given it the name "sergeant-fish" in certain districts. the blue-fish. the blue-fish is known in different localities as the "horse-mackerel," "skipjack," "green-fish." it is a widely distributed fish, but its favorite haunts in the summer are the waters of the middle atlantic states. it feeds entirely upon other fish. professor baird says: "there is no parallel in point of destructiveness to the blue-fish among the marine species on our coast, whatever may be the case among some of the carnivorous fish of the south american waters. the blue-fish has been well likened to an animated chopping machine, the business of which is to cut to pieces and otherwise destroy as many fish as possible in a given space of time. going in large schools in pursuit of fish not much inferior to themselves in size, they move along like a pack of hungry wolves, destroying everything before them. their trail is marked by fragments of fish and by the stain of blood in the sea." the mackerel. the common mackerel is found in the north atlantic. they swim near the surface and often at a great distance from land. their movements can be easily followed. they are great wanderers and are abundant sometimes in one section, sometimes in another. the food of these fishes consists largely of small crustaceans. the different kinds of invertebrates upon which the mackerel feed are known as "cayenne" and "red-seed." when full-grown they average about eighteen inches in length. sea birds will gather over a school of mackerel and indicate its presence. porpoises, sharks, blue-fish, and cod also prey upon them. the spanish mackerel is a midsummer fish, disappearing in the autumn. in habit they are very much like the blue-fish, and fond of leaping from the water, living mostly at the surface. the pompano. the pompano is highly esteemed as a food fish. it is widely distributed through the warmer atlantic. it feeds upon mollusks, crustaceans, and young fish. it is caught in nets; quantities are caught in the gulf of mexico. the bonito. the bonito is in habits similar to the blue-fish. it preys, as do the latter, upon menhaden and mackerel. the tail is crescent-shaped and is a great aid to it in swimming. it is capable of very swift motion, hunting in schools, which are accompanied by flocks of sea gulls and other sea birds. the sword-fish. the sword-fish derives its name from its long, sword-like snout. they are most abundant on shoals and banks near the shore. they are very pugnacious in their habits, using their sword as a weapon of offense and defense, and do not hesitate to attack sharks and whales. the rose-fish. this fish on the pacific coast is known as the rock-cod or rock-fish. they are found in great abundance on the southern coast of california. the tree-fish. the tree-fish is also found on the coast of california and is beautifully colored and marked. the pike and muskellunge. the pike is a fish of the north; it is abundant, however, as far south as ohio. the muskellunge is found in the great lakes region and st. lawrence river. it is similar to the pike. the pickerel. the pickerels, another group of this family, are much smaller fishes. the chain pickerel, so called on account of the peculiar chain-like markings on its sides, is found in streams along the atlantic coast. the brook pickerel is of a similar variety. this variety of fish are not particular as to their diet; they will eat nearly all other kinds of fish, frogs, rats, mice, and even young ducks. they lay in wait for their prey and take it with a spring. [illustration: muskellunge.] the sea robins. the sea robins are a nuisance to fishermen, stealing their bait. they are also known as sculpins, grub, bullhead, seatoad, pig-fish. they feed upon the animal life at the bottom of the water. owing to their ugly appearance their spines are rumored to give a poisonous wound. they are capable of inflicting a painful injury, but not a poisonous one. the halibut. the halibut is a cold-water fish. these fish at times reach an enormous size and there are traditions of fish having been caught that weigh over pounds. they lie upon the bottom, and because of their flat body, which is similar in color to that of the sand, they are able to ambush their prey. the flounder. the plaise, summer flounder, or turbot flounder. this is a fish abundant upon the eastern coast of the united states. they feed upon small fish, crabs, squids, sand-eels, etc. large quantities of these fish are sold in the markets of new york. [illustration: flounder.] the cod-fish. the cod-fish; the waters off the coast of new england formerly abounded in this fish, but now only stragglers are to be caught. from the stomachs of cod-fish shells of all kinds have been taken, as well as many miscellaneous objects, such as rings, scissors, corn-cobs, oil cans, and other incongruous things of this kind. the tom-cod is a small cod-fish seldom a foot in length. [illustration: cod-fish.] the haddock. the haddock also has a habit of feeding on shells. both the haddock and the cod will take stale clams as food, these seeming to be more attractive than fresh ones. as food fish the scotch smoke haddock, and they are then known as "finnan haddies." the mullets. the mullets are widely distributed; it is a very popular fish in the southern sea-coast states. it prefers still, shoal water with sandy and grassy bottom. it does not take the hook well, but is sometimes caught with bait manufactured from cotton and flour or banana. the cat-fish. the cat-fish is very popular with the colored people in the south. "don't talk to me o' bacon and fat, o' taters, 'coon or 'possum, fo' when i'se hooked a yellar cat i'se got a meal to boss 'em." its spines are capable of inflicting painful wounds. salt mackerel, worms, or live minnows are good bait. another thing it is well to remember is that the cat-fish never bite when an east wind is blowing. professor jordan, of indianapolis university, says: "cat-fishes are vivacious and indiscriminate feeders, any of the animal substances, living or dead, being greedily swallowed by them. they are also extremely tenacious of life, living for a long time out of water and being able to resist impurities in the water better than any other of our food fishes." the herrings. the herring is an important food fish. hundreds of millions of pounds of these fish are taken yearly, and yet their numbers do not seem to be in any wise lessened. herrings are smoked, dried, and salted. the menhaden. the menhaden make their appearance in the spring with the arrival of the shad, alewife, blue-fish, and weak-fish. they swim in schools close to the surface and crowd together, but if alarmed sink to the bottom. they are phosphorescent at night, fond of inlets and bays and shoal waters protected from wind. their food seems to consist of organic matter and vegetation contained in stagnant water. they have many enemies; whales, sharks, sword-fish, bass, cod, weak-fish, blue-fish, bonito, dolphins destroy them in vast quantities. they are largely used as fertilizers by the coast farmers. they are also a source of fish oil. the alewife. the alewife is an abundant river fish throughout the south. they are also found where shad run. the shad. shad is found along the atlantic coast of the united states. the larger part of the shad's life is spent in salt water, coming into the rivers in the spring. the tarpon. tarpon, tarpum, silverfish, or grande ecaille, is common on the gulf coast. it will take a baited hook, but is difficult to handle, and is seldom landed. persons have been known to be killed or injured severely by its leaping against them from the net in which it had been caught. its scales are prized and are sold in the florida shops. [illustration: salmon.] the salmon. the salmon--one remarkable characteristic is its marvelous leaping ability. one writer, describing from observation this feat, says: "i watched the fish with a race-glass for some ten minutes before disturbing them. there is a very deep pool at the point where the waterfall joins the lower level of the water. the fish come out of this pool with the velocity of an arrow. they give no warning of their intentions, but up they come and dart out of the surface of the water with a sudden rush, like rockets let loose from the darkness of the night into the space above. when they first appeared their tails were going with the velocity of a watch spring just broken, and the whole body sparkling as though they had been enameled, quivering so with the exertion." the trout. the rainbow trout, also known as brook trout, mountain trout, speckled trout, golden trout, is found in the streams west of the sierra nevada; it feeds on worms, grubs, etc. the black spotted trout is found throughout the rocky mountain region. the above are salmon trout and are considered inferior as game fishes to the red spotted trout. the lake trout reaches a large size. the lake superior trout are caught usually in the fall months in nets. the brook trouts belong to the salmon family. they show marked variations in color. the speckled trout is found in the lakes and streams of the eastern part of the united states. in midsummer they haunt the bottoms of lakes, deep pools, among rocks and roots. as the cold weather comes on in the autumn they frequent the clear water of streams. they seldom exceed two or three pounds in weight. they feed daintily, taking their prey from the surface--flies, water bugs, and little fishes. they are favorites with the fishermen; the most successful angler is the one who baits his hook with the prey, or imitation thereof, which at that time particularly hits their fancy. [illustration: brook trout.] the malma trout is known as the lake trout, bull trout, red spotted trout, and in some places the dolly varden. smelts. the smelts are remarkable for an odor which they emit and which accounts for their name. they are a small fish and are sold in large quantities in all fish markets. eels. eels: there is a much larger demand for the eel as a food in europe than in america, many in this country being prejudiced against it because of its snake-like form. [illustration: eels.] the moray. two species of these eels are found along the coast of the united states, the spotted moray in florida and the reticulated moray off the coast of south carolina. index. page alewife, angler-fish, barb, barn door, basking shark, bass, big-fin, black, , black sea, calico, grass, lake, lake striped, rock, sea, silver, strawberry, striped, striped lake, white, yellow, big-fin bass, bill-fish, black bass, , grouper, grunt, mullet, sea bass, snapper, will, black-fish, blue bream, sun-fish, blue-fish, bonito, bony pike, bow-fin, bream, blue, copper nose, red-bellied, red-headed, brook pickerel, trout, , bull trout, calico bass, cat-fish, chain pickerel, chimera, chinquapin perch, cobia, cod-fish, , cod, rock, tom, , columbian sturgeon, common mackerel, copper-nose bream, crappie, crocus, croppie, devil-fish, dog-fish, dollardee, dolly varden, drum, duckbill, eagle ray, eels, moray, spotted moray, elasmobranchii, electric ray, fair maid, finnan haddie, flannel mouth, flounder, , summer, turbot, fox shark, ganoidei, , gar pike, goggle-eye, golden trout, goosefish, grande ecaille, grass bass, gray perch, gray snapper, green-fish, groper (see grouper), grouper, black, red, grunt, black, haddock, hake, halibut, hammer-head shark, , herring, hog-fish, norfolk, holocephali, , horse mackerel, jew-fish, pacific, king-fish, lake bass, superior trout, trout, lamplighter, mackerel, common, horse, spanish, mackerel shark, malma trout, manjuari, menhaden, millstone ray, mishcuppauog, moray eels, reticulated, spotted, mountain trout, mud-fish, mullets, , muskellunge, , norfolk hog-fish, octopus, pacific jew-fish, paddle-fish, paugy, perch, bitterhead, chinquapin, gray, strawberry, white, , yellow, pickerel, brook, chain, pig-fish, , pike, , bony, gar, plaise, pompano, porbeagle, porgy, rainbow trout, rays, eagle, electric, millstone, sting, torpedo, red-bellied bream, breast, grouper, headed bream, mouths, snapper, spotted trout, reticulated moray, rock bass, rock cod, fish, rose-fish, salmon, , trout, sawfish, sculpin, scup, scuppaug, scyllidæ, sea bass, cat, lawyer, mink, robin, toad, trout, sergeant-fish, shad, shark, basking, fox, hammer-head, , mackerel, thrasher, thresher, sheepshead, , shovel-nose sturgeon, , silver bass, fish, skates, skipjack, smelts, snapper, black, gray, red, spadebill, spanish mackerel, speckled trout, spinacidæ, spoonbill, squeteague, squirrel-fish, sting ray, strawberry bass, perch, striped bass, lake bass, sturgeon, , columbian, shovel-nose, , white, summer flounder, sun-fish, blue, sun perch, sunny, sword-fish, tarpon, teleostei, , thrasher shark, thresher shark, thunder-pumper, tobacco box, tom cod, , tope, torpedo, tree-fish, trout, black-spotted, brook, , golden, lake, lake superior, malma, mountain, rainbow, red-spotted, salmon, sea, speckled, turbot flounder, weak-fish, white bass, perch, , sturgeon, whiting, yellow bass, fins, perch, the campfire and trail series . in camp on the big sunflower. . the rivals of the trail. . the strange cabin on catamount island. . lost in the great dismal swamp. . with trapper jim in the north woods. . caught in a forest fire. by lawrence j. leslie a series of wholesome stories for boys told in an interesting way and appealing to their love of the open. _each, mo._ _cloth._ _ cents per volume_ the new york book company fourth avenue new york the "how-to-do-it" books carpentry for boys a book which treats, in a most practical and fascinating manner all subjects pertaining to the "king of trades"; showing the care and use of tools; drawing; designing, and the laying out of work; the principles involved in the building of various kinds of structures, and the rudiments of architecture. it contains over two hundred and fifty illustrations made especially for this work, and includes also a complete glossary of the technical terms used in the art. the most comprehensive volume on this subject ever published for boys. electricity for boys the author has adopted the unique plan of setting forth the fundamental principles in each phase of the science, and practically applying the work in the successive stages. it shows how the knowledge has been developed, and the reasons for the various phenomena, without using technical words so as to bring it within the compass of every boy. it has a complete glossary of terms, and is illustrated with two hundred original drawings. practical mechanics for boys this book takes the beginner through a comprehensive series of practical shop work, in which the uses of tools, and the structure and handling of shop machinery are set forth; how they are utilized to perform the work, and the manner in which all dimensional work is carried out. every subject is illustrated, and model building explained. it contains a glossary which comprises a new system of cross references, a feature that will prove a welcome departure in explaining subjects. fully illustrated. _price cents per volume_ the new york book company fourth avenue new york the wonder island boys by roger t. finlay thrilling adventures by sea and land of two boys and an aged professor who are cast away on an island with absolutely nothing but their clothing. by gradual and natural stages they succeed in constructing all forms of devices used in the mechanical arts and learn the scientific theories involved in every walk of life. these subjects are all treated in an incidental and natural way in the progress of events, from the most fundamental standpoint without technicalities, and include every department of knowledge. numerous illustrations accompany the text. two thousand things every boy ought to know. every page a romance. every line a fact. _six titles-- cents per volume_ the wonder island boys the castaways the wonder island boys exploring the island the wonder island boys the mysteries of the caverns the wonder island boys the tribesmen the wonder island boys the capture and pursuit the wonder island boys the conquest of the savages published by the new york book company fourth avenue new york christy mathewson's book [illustration] _a ripping good baseball story by one who knows the game_ this book has attained a larger sale than any baseball story ever published. the narrative deals with the students of a large university and their baseball team, the members of which have names which enable the reader to recognize them as some of the foremost baseball stars of the day before their entrance into the major leagues. one gains a very clear idea of "inside baseball" stripped of wearisome technicalities. the book is profusely illustrated throughout and contains also a number of plates showing the manner in which mathewson throws his deceptive curves, together with brief description of each. _cloth bound - / Ã� - / _ _price c. per volume_ the new york book company fourth avenue new york mrs. meade's books for girls primrose edition printed on fine quality book paper. separate cover designs in colors. daddy's girl. a girl from america. sue, a little heroine. the school queens. wild kitty. a sweet girl graduate. a world of girls. polly--a new-fashioned girl. _each, mo._ _cloth._ _ cents per volume_ mrs. meade's girls' books never lose their popularity. the new york book company fourth avenue new york _economical cooking_ _primrose edition_ _planned for two or more persons_ by miss winifred s. gibbs dietitian and teacher of cooking of the new york association for improving the condition of the poor _printed on fine quality book paper. cover design in colors._ many cook books have been published, from time to time, to meet various requirements, or to elucidate certain theories, but very few have been written to meet the needs of the large proportion of our population who are acutely affected by the constantly increasing cost of food products. notwithstanding that by its valuable suggestions this book helps to reduce the expense of supplying the table, the recipes are so planned that the economies effected thereby are not offset by any lessening in the attractiveness, variety or palatability of the dishes. of equal importance are the sections of this work which deal with food values, the treatment of infants and invalids and the proper service of various dishes. the recipes are planned for two persons, but may readily be adapted for a larger number. the book is replete with illustrations and tables of food compositions--the latter taken from the latest government statistics. _cloth binding_ _illustrated_ _ c. per volume, postpaid_ the new york book company fourth avenue (near th st.) new york cut-out and paint books [illustration] an original line of art studies printed in full rich colors on high grade paper. this series introduces many novel features of interest, and as the subject matters have been selected with unusual care, the books make a strong appeal not only to the little ones but even to those of riper years. post cards _painting book_ dolls of all nations _scissors book_ our army _scissors book_ children's pets _puzzle book_ _size - / Ã� - / inches_ price c. per copy send for sample and trade discount the new york book company fourth avenue new york * * * * * transcriber's notes: obvious punctuation errors repaired. first advertising page, "chenoweth" changed to "chenowith" to match actual book usage (elmer chenowith, a lad from) page , "kidnaped" changed to "kidnapped" (who had been kidnapped) page , "remarkd" changed to "remarked" (on the ground," remarked) page , "us" changed to "is" (than it really is) page , "shouler" changed to "shoulder" (over his shoulder) page , "he" changed to "be" (it might be transported) page , "whole" changed to "hole" (out of a hole) produced from images made available by the hathitrust digital library.) [illustration: frontispiece] boy scouts in the northwest or fighting forest fires by scout master, g. harvey ralphson author of "boy scouts in mexico; or on guard with uncle sam." "boy scouts in the canal zone; or the plot against uncle sam." "boy scouts in the philippines; or the key to the treaty box." _embellished with full page and other illustrations._ m. a. donohue & company, chicago copyright . m. a. donohue & company. all rights reserved. electrotyped, printed and bound by m. a. donohue & co. contents chapter page i. a mountain mystery ii. the signal in the sky iii. just a typewriter ribbon iv. the aeroplane in danger v. the revelation of a tragedy vi. above the clouds at night vii. a key with a broken stem viii. fate of the steak a la brigand ix. the chaos of a burning world x. chasing the milky way xi. the luck of a bowery boy xii. a member of the owl patrol xiii. off in a desperate mission xiv. the battle in the air xv. told by the forest ranger xvi. how a cat treed a wolf xvii. the time for the round-up xviii. two inanimate witnesses xix. the man behind the scenes boy scouts series every boy and girl in the land will want to read these interesting and instructive books written by that great nature authority and eminent scout master g. harvey ralphson of the black bear patrol the eight following great titles are now ready, printed from large, clear type on a superior quality of paper, embellished with original illustrations by eminent artists, and bound in a superior quality of binder's cloth, ornamented with illustrative covers stamped in two colors of foil and ink from unique and appropriate dies: boy scouts in mexico; or, on guard with uncle sam boy scouts in the canal zone; or, the plot against uncle sam boy scouts in the philippines; or, the key to the treaty boy scouts in the northwest; or, fighting forest fires boy scouts in a motor boat; or, adventures on the columbia river boy scouts in an airship; or, the warning from the sky boy scouts in a submarine; or, searching an ocean floor boy scouts on motor cycles; or, with the flying squadron the above books are for sale by all booksellers, or will be sent prepaid to any address, upon receipt of c each, or any three for $ . , or four for $ . , or seven for $ . , by the publishers m. a. donohue & co. - s. dearborn street, chicago boy scouts in the northwest or fighting forest fires chapter i.--a mountain mystery. on a sizzling hot afternoon near the middle of august, in the year nineteen eleven, three boys dressed in the khaki uniform of the boy scouts of america stood on a lofty plateau near the british frontier, watching with anxious eyes the broken country to the south and west. "nothing stirring yet!" jack bosworth said, turning to pat mack and frank shaw, his companions. "ned and jimmie may be in trouble somewhere. i wish we had waited and traveled with them." "traveled with them!" repeated frank shaw. "we couldn't travel with them. we were fired--given the grand bounce--twenty-three sign. ned seemed to want the space in the atmosphere we occupied at missoula. serve them good and right if they do get distributed over the scenery." "never you mind about ned nestor and jimmie mcgraw," pat mack put in. "they can get along all right if someone isn't leading them by the hand. suppose we fix up the camp and get ready for our eats?" the boys turned away from the lip of the cañon upon which they had been standing and busied themselves putting up shelter tents and unpacking provisions and camping tools, as they called their blankets and cooking vessels. they had passed the previous night in a sheltered valley lower down, sleeping on the ground, under the stars, and had breakfasted from the scanty stock of eatables carried in their haversacks. early that morning a train of burros had landed their outfit at the end of a rough trail some distance below, and the boys, with long labor and patience, had carried it up to the plateau. the men in charge of the burros had of course volunteered to assist in the work of carrying the goods to the place selected for the camp, but their offers had been declined with thanks, for the boy scouts were determined that for the present no outsider should know the exact location of their temporary mountain home. those who have read the previous books of this series[ ] will not be at a loss to understand why the location of the camp in the northwest was for a time to remain a secret, so far as possible. ned nestor, for whom those on the plateau were now waiting, had, some months before that hot august afternoon, enlisted in the secret service of the united states government. accompanied by frank shaw, jack bosworth, jimmie mcgraw and others, he had seen active diplomatic service during the mexican revolution, had unearthed a plot against the government in the panana canal zone, and had rendered signal service in the philippines, where he had assisted in preventing an armed revolt against the supremacy of the united states government. at the close of his service in the philippines, he had been commissioned to investigate forest fire conditions in the great northwest. the boy had a wonderful native talent for detective work, and, besides, it was thought by the officials in charge of the matter that a party of boy scouts, camping and roving about in northern idaho and montana and in the southern sections of british columbia, would be better able to size up the forest fire situation than a party of foresters or government secret service men. so ned and his four chums had sailed away from manila, reached san francisco in due season, and, after receiving further instructions and arranging for supplies, had headed for the frontier. at missoula, montana, he had sent frank, jack and pat on ahead, after giving them the exact location of the future encampment and arranging for the transportation of supplies. from the first there had been some mystery in the minds of the three concerning ned's strange halt at missoula. they could not understand why he had sent them on ahead of him, for he usually directed every detail of their journeyings. when questioned concerning this innovation, ned had only laughed and told the boys to keep out of the jaws of wild animals and not get lost. "i'll be in camp almost as soon as you are," he had said, "and will take the first mountain meal with you." yet the boys had reached the vicinity of the chosen location on the previous day, and ned had not made his appearance. naturally the boys were more than anxious about the safety of their leader. "did ned say anything to you while at missoula, about an aeroplane?" jack asked of frank as they unpacked bacon and corn meal. "you know, before we left the philippines," he went on, slicing the bacon for the coming repast, "the officials said we were to have a government aeroplane. i was just wondering if the thing would get here after we have no use for it." "he said nothing to me about the arrival of the aeroplane," frank replied, "but i presume he knows when the government air machine will be on hand. it may be packed up at missoula, for all we know," he added, "and ned may have waited there for the purpose of getting it ready for flight." "what the dickens can we do with an aeroplane in this wilderness?" demanded pat, wiping the sweat from his face. "we can't run around among the trees with it, can we? nor yet we can't get gasoline up here to run it with. anyway, i'm no friend to these airships." "when they travel with upholstered dining coaches in connection, and sleeping cars on behind," laughed jack, "you'll think they're all to the good. if we can't chase around among the trees in an aeroplane," he continued, "we can sail over the forests and high peaks, can't we? without something of the sort, it would take us about a thousand years to get a look-in at this wild country." "well," pat grumbled, "i only hope we won't get our necks broken falling out of the contraption. it may be all right to go up in one of the foolish things, but i think i'd rather take chances on going over niagara falls in a rain-water barrel." "i half believe he will come in the aeroplane," frank said, shading his eyes with his hand and looking out to the south. "he wants to surprise us, i take it, and that is why he acted so mysteriously about the matter." "what about jimmie?" demanded pat, who would take almost any risk on water, but who was filled with horror the moment his feet left the solid earth. "he can't bring jimmie along in his pocket, can he? and even if he managed to get the little scamp up on the thing, some trick would be turned that would land the 'plane on top of a high tree." "two can ride an aeroplane, all right," frank insisted. "anyway, quit your knocking. ned knows what he is about, and we'll wait here for him if we have to remain until the rocky mountains wash down into the pacific ocean." "suppose we climb up on the shelf above," jack suggested, "and see if we can find anything in the sky that looks like an aeroplane. i really think ned and jimmie will travel here on the air line." pat fished a field-glass out of his haversack and passed it over to jack. "you boys go on up," he said, "and see what there is to be seen. i'll stay here and cook this bacon. i could eat a hog on foot right this minute. where did you put those canned beans?" "never you mind the canned beans," laughed jack. "it will be time enough to open them when you get the bacon fried to a crisp. i see our finish if you got one of the bean cans opened. say, but i could eat a peak off the divide!" "well, the divide is up there, all right," pat grinned, "go on up and take a bite off it. on this side that ridge away up there the rivers run into the pacific ocean. on the other side they run into the atlantic ocean. split a drop when you get on top and send your best wishes to both oceans. and don't you remain away too long, either, for this bacon is going to be cooked in record-breaking time." leaving pat to prepare the supper, frank and jack turned their faces upward toward the main divide of the rocky mountains, , feet above their heads. it was a splendid scene, and they enjoyed it to the full. to the north the green forests of british columbia stood crinkling under the almost direct rays of the august sun, to the east, almost over their heads, stood the backbone of the continent of north america, to the south stretched the broken land of montana, while to the west lay the valleys and ridges of idaho, montana, and washington beyond which pulsed the mighty swells of the pacific. immediately to the north of the position occupied by the camp, and within a mile of the international boundary line, kintla lake lay like a mirror in the lap of the mountains, reflecting peaks and silent groves in its clear waters. from the lake, ten miles in length by half that in width, an outlet flowed westward into the north branch of the flathead river. the level plateau where the camp had been pitched was not far from two acres in extent, with the bulk of the mountain to the east, a drop of a thousand feet to the south, and steep but negotiable inclines to the west and north. the lake was feet below the level of the plateau, which was about , feet above the sea level and , feet below the summit of the divide at that point in the long range of mountains. there were peaks to the north and south which showed eternal snow and ice, but there was a lowering of the shoulder of the great chain directly to the east, so there was no snow in sight there. there were forest trees low down in the cañon to the south, and on the slopes to the west and north, but the plateau and the sharp rise toward the summit were bare. while pat sliced his bacon and mixed corn-meal, soda, salt and water to make hoecakes, to be fried in bacon grease, frank and jack wormed their way up the face of the mountain, toward a shelf of rock some hundred feet above the plateau. it was hard climbing, but the lads persisted, and soon gained the elevation they sought, from which it was hoped to gain a fine view of the country toward missoula. "good thing we don't want to go any farther," frank exclaimed, throwing himself down on the ledge and wiping his streaming face. "we couldn't scale the wall ahead with a ladder. now," he went on, "look out there to the south and see if there's an aeroplane in sight." jack brought out the field-glass and looked long and anxiously, but there was no sign of a man-made bird in the clear sky. "i don't believe, after all, that he'll come in an aeroplane," the boy said, directly. "suppose he took a notion to get a motor boat and run up the north branch of the flathead river, and so on into kintla lake, down there? how long would it take him to make the trip?" "about ten thousand years," was frank's reply. "he never could get up the north branch. there's too many waterfalls. why, man, the stream descends several thousand feet before it gets to sea level." "anyway," jack replied, "if you'll get out of my way i'll take a look at the lake through the glass." "you'll probably see him come sailing up the slope in a battleship," frank said, in a sarcastic tone. jack, without speaking, turned his glass to the north and gazed long and anxiously over the lake. presently frank saw him give a start of surprise and lean forward, as if to get a closer view of some object which had come into the field of the lens. "what is it?" he asked. jack passed him the glass with no word of explanation, and the boy hastily swept the shores of the mountain lake. "i don't see any motor boat," he said, directly. "well, what do you see?" jack asked, expectantly. "for one thing," frank replied, "the smoke of a campfire." "i saw that, too," jack said, "and didn't know what to make of it. also, i saw a rowboat sneaking around that green point to the east." "that is what is puzzling me," frank replied. "years ago there was a blackfoot reservation just over the divide, and a flathead indian reservation down by flathead lake, to the south, but i had no idea the indians were still about. still, the people you saw were probably indians. suppose we go down there and look the matter up. we've got to have some sort of a yarn to tell pat when we get back to camp." the two boys scrambled down almost vertical surfaces, edged along narrow ledges, slid down easier inclines, and finally came to the rim of beach about the lake. there, at the eastern end of the pretty body of water, they came upon the still glowing embers of a fire. close to the spot where the remains of the fire glimmered in the hot air, they saw the mouth of a cavern which seemed to tunnel under the body of the mountain to the east. there were numerous tracks about the fire, and some of them led to the entrance to the cavern. "whoever built this fire," jack exclaimed, "wore big shoes, so it wasn't indians. no, wait!" he added, in a moment, "there are tracks here which show no heel marks. what do you make of that?" "must be moccasins," frank said. "the indians may still be in the woods about here." "i'm going into the cavern to see what's stirring there," jack said, "and before i go i'll have a look at my artillery." the boy looked his revolver over, and before frank could utter a warning, he darted away into the gloom of the cave. frank did not follow him, but turned in the direction of the point where the boat had disappeared. a dozen yards on his way he stopped and listened. a voice, sounding like that of a person in a deep well, reached his ears, and he turned back. he gained the mouth of the cavern in half a minute and plunged inside. it was dark a dozen feet from the entrance, but he struck a match and moved on, finally coming to a smooth wall which appeared to shut off farther progress. when he turned about and faced the opening every object between where he stood and the mouth stood revealed against the bright sunshine outside. there were a few loose rocks, a rude bench, a small goods box, and nothing else. jack was nowhere in eight. he examined the walls of the cavern but discovered no lateral passages. he called out to his chum, but received no response. where was jack? if he had left the cavern he would have been seen. it was a perplexing mystery, and the boy sat down on the box and listened for a repetition of the sounds he had heard. for a moment no sounds came, then a voice, seemingly coming out of the solid wall behind him reached his ears. he could distinguish no words for a time, and then it seemed that he was being called by name. he called to jack again and again, but received no answer. jack was evidently there somewhere, but where? the smooth walls gave no indication of any hidden openings, and there was in view no crevice through which a voice behind the walls might penetrate. it seemed either a silly joke or an impenetrable mystery. ----- [ ] "boy scouts in mexico; or, on guard with uncle sam," "boy scouts in the canal zone; or, the plot against uncle sam," and "boy scouts in the philippines; or, the key to the treaty box." chicago: m. a. donohue & company, publishers. chapter ii.--the signal in the sky. frank left the cavern in a moment and walked along the beach toward the campfire. his thought was to gather embers and fresh fuel and build up a blaze at the end of the cave which would reveal every inch of the interior. he was certain that jack had not left the place, and decided that he had fallen into some hidden opening which had escaped his own investigation. as he bent over the remains of the fire he heard a rattle of small stones, and, looking up, saw pat coming down the declivity from the plateau where the tents had been set up. the incline was steep, and at times pat was rolling rather than walking. he was in his shirt sleeves and bareheaded. at last his red head pitched toward the lake like a meteor in downward flight. frank rushed forward and caught him as he struck the beach, thus saving him from an impromptu bath. pat struggled to his feet in an instant, rubbed his legs and arms to see if any bones had been broken, and then turned his head and looked up the incline. "talk about shooting the chutes!" he exclaimed. "i wonder what time i made coming down?" "sure you're not hurt?" asked frank anxiously. "every inch of my body has three bruises, one on top of the other," pat replied, "but i guess i'm able to walk. say, but that was a roller-coaster glide!" "why did you try such a foolish caper?" asked frank. "why, i saw you boys here," was the reply, "and started down. you know the rest, as the yellow-covered books say. what you boys doing here, wasting your time, with the bacon burning to a crisp?" "we came here to investigate," was the reply, "and jack went into the cavern, and vanished--just vapored into thin air. i'm going to build a fire in there and see if i can't condense him!" "well," pat said, listening, "he may have vanished physically, but his voice appears to be on deck yet." three sharp calls came from the cavern, and both boys dashed inside. there was no doubt now that jack's voice, at least, had condensed, for the shouts coming from the back of the cavern were both hearty and imperative. "hi, there!" jack called. "pry this stone out of the doorway!" "where are you?" demanded pat. "which one of the walls do you want us to push in? you're a nice chump, getting in a scrape like this!" he added, with a laugh which must have been exasperating to the unseen boy. "you'll find a crevice where the back of the cave joins the south wall," jack said, his voice coming faintly to the ears of his chums. "put your fingers in and pull. the blooming door opens outward. hurry! it's stifling in here!" after burning nearly all the matches they had in their pockets, and scorching their fingers on the short sticks, pat and frank discovered the crevice spoken of and inserted the ends of their fingers. "pull!" yelled jack. "pull, you loafers! it is moving!" in a moment the south half of the back wall swung out so suddenly that both boys were thrown from their feet and jack, who had been pushing with his whole strength, came tumbling on top of them as they lay on the floor of the cavern. "what sort of a combination is this, anyway?" demanded pat, struggling to his feet. "if i get any more bumps to-day i'll be taking something that belongs to some one else. i've had my share." frank sprang to the opening as soon as he could disentangle himself from the collection of arms and legs and looked in. all was dark and still inside, and a gust of dead air struck him in the face. pat, leaning over his shoulder, laid a hand on the rock which had opened so strangely, and the next instant it closed softly, sliding into the opening like a door operated by well-oiled machinery. "now you've done it!" frank exclaimed, disgustedly, as pat threw himself against the stone in a vain effort to force it open again. "no harm done," jack exclaimed. "there's only a stinking cavern in there. wow! i can feel snakes and lizzards crawling on me now! come! let us get into the open air. stifles like a grave in here." the boys hastened outside and stood meditatively before the shining waters of the lake, each one trying to think clearly concerning what had taken place. they believed themselves--or had believed, rather--miles away from any trace of civilization, and yet here was a practical door of rock at the end of a cave almost under the great divide. "we've found something," frank said, at length. "that thing in there never happened. human hands fashioned that door for some secret purpose. and it wasn't indians, either." "i guess we've run up against a band of train robbers," suggested jack, with a grin. "probably the entrance to some deserted mine," pat put in. "this region has been searched for gold for fifty years. i've heard of mines being concealed by moving stones." "well," frank said, after a short silence, during which all listened for some indication of the immediate presence of the men who had been seen to row around the green point a short time before, "whatever the game is, we've got to remove every trace of our visit. when they come back they probably won't notice the tracks we have made, for there were plenty about before we came here, but we must gather up all the match-ends we left in there and leave the door as we found it." "i found it open and walked in," jack said, "and then it closed. whew! i felt like i was being shut up in a tomb!" "how large a place is it in there?" asked pat. "don't know," was the reply. "i had no matches with me, and so could not see a thing." "then we won't have to open the door again to clean up any muss," frank said, moving toward the entrance to the cavern. "i wouldn't go in again for a thousand dollars," jack cried. "if you leave it to me, the place is haunted. i heard groans in there." frank paused at the entrance and turned back. his matches were about gone, and so he took a burning stick from the fire, added two dry faggots to it, waited until the three burst into flame, and then entered the cave. to gather up the half-burned matches which had been scattered over the floor was the work of only a moment. "now you'll have to open the door, if you leave it as i found it," jack said, looking in from the mouth. "pat will help you." "come on in, both of you," frank directed. "not me!" cried jack. "i hear bones rattling!" the boys thought he was joking at first, but it soon appeared that he was in sober earnest, so pat and frank, by exerting their entire strength, managed to open the door without his assistance. "you're afraid of the dark!" pat taunted, as the boys gathered around the fire again. "i'm not half as afraid of the dark as you are of an aeroplane," jack replied. "if i ever see you going up in a 'plane, i'll go in there alone." "don't you ever forget that," pat grinned. "oh, i'll be game, all right," was the reply. before leaving the beach for the camp the boys walked to the point around which the boat had gone and scanned the lake and its shores through the field-glass. there was no sign of life anywhere, except where the birds swung from forest limbs back from the rim of the lake and called each other through the sultry air. reaching the camp after a weary climb, they did full justice to the meal which pat had prepared, though the bacon and the hoecakes were stone cold, or at least as cold as anything could be in that glare of sunlight. then, the dishes washed and the beds prepared for the night, they sat down to watch the lake and the sky to the south, for it was now the general belief that ned would make his appearance with the aeroplane which had been promised by the government officials. the point they had last visited, as well as the location of the fire, was in full view of the plateau, so the boys made no efforts to conceal their presence there. the men who had been observed in the boat must have noted their presence on the plateau before taking their leave. perhaps, they reasoned, they had taken their departure because of this invasion. the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, turning the plateau and the smooth waters of the lake to gold, still there were no signs of ned, no indications of the return of the boat to the place from which it had been launched. half an hour after dark, frank, who was looking through the field-glass, caught sight of light in the south which did not appear to come from any star. "here he comes!" he cried. "that's an aeroplane, all right!" as the light drew nearer, traveling rapidly, the sharp explosions of the gasoline engine became audible. then a light flickered over the upper plane, passed off, and swept the white surface again. "how does he make that?" demanded pat. "looks like a great question mark." "that's what it is," frank exclaimed. "now, what does he mean by it?" chapter iii.--just a typewriter ribbon. "i don't understand what question he is asking," jack said, "but i know how he makes the signal. he has an electric flashlight, and he tips the plane--the upper plane--forward, like he was plunging to the earth, and writes the interrogation mark on the under side with the flame of the flashlight. see? then it shines through the canvas and we read it! great idea!" "that must be the way of it," frank said, "but what does he want? and how does he expect us to answer?" "if i was up there in the dark on a contraption like that," pat said, "i'd be asking how i was going to find a landing place." "sure!" frank cried. "ned wants to know where we are, and whether it is safe for him to make a landing. dunderheads! why didn't we think of that before? he is passing now, and may not come back again." the light flashed by at swift speed, whirled, ascended several hundred feet, and came over the plateau, repeating the signal. then it settled down into a steady circling of the camp. "he knows where we are, all right," pat said. "what he wants to know is if it is safe for him to make a landing. if i ever go up in one of those things i'll drag a rope so i can climb down it." "i'll tell him what he wants to know," frank said, "if you'll get me a long stick on fire most of its length." "wigwag?" asked jack. "sure!" was the reply. "now," frank continued, "build four fires, one on each edge of the plateau. that will show him how large the place is. then i'll take the flaming stick and wigwag o.k. ned'll understand that." pat watched the wigwag signal with interest. "i saw foolish signs like those in the philippines," he said, with a grin. "the natives use them to talk treason to each other. i've heard that the same method is used by the east indians who talk from one mountain top to another faster than words on a wire. how does he make the o.k. signal?" "o is one left, followed by one right," jack replied, "and k is left, right, left, right. you won't think the signs are foolish when you see how quickly ned reads them. see! he's shooting away now." "perhaps he thinks the signals are being made by savages," pat said. the aeroplane darted off to the west for half a minute, then whirled and came back. the boys could not see the great 'plane distinctly, but the lights which burned on the front were bright and clear, so they saw that the 'plane was sweeping toward the earth as it advanced in their direction. "i don't believe many professionals would care to make a landing like this," frank said, as the machine dipped and slid to the ground, exactly in the center of the plateau. "hello, ned!" he yelled, as the aeroplane rolled over the smooth surface for an instant and stopped. in a second the three boys were gathered about the machine, pulling at the hands and feet of the daring riders. jimmie mcgraw bounded to the ground as soon as he could cast off the lines which had held him to his quivering seat. "say," he cried, "you got a fire here? i'm most froze." indeed the little fellow's teeth were chattering. "cold?" echoed pat. "we're melting down here. you're scared, that's what's the matter with you. you're scared stiff." jimmie made a run for the speaker but brought up at the fire where the supper had been cooked. "here's comfort!" he cried, extending his hands out over what was left of the small blaze. "the next time you get me up in the air i don't go! i've been freezing for an hour." in the meantime ned nestor was caring for the aeroplane, looking after the delicate machinery and covering it carefully with a huge oil-cloth. pat stood watching the work with a grin on his face. "are you thinking of giving me a ride in that thing?" he asked. "not to-night!" laughed ned. "well, when you get ready for me to ride the air," pat said, "just tell me the night before, and i'll shoo myself into the hills. if i'm going to fall off anything, i'll take the drop from something solid, like a mountain top." "no danger at all, when you know how to operate the machine," ned replied. "there's danger in running anything if you don't know how, even a sewing machine." "where did you pick it up?" asked frank. "he didn't pick it up at all," interposed pat. "it picked him up." "i found it at missoula," was the reply, "all packed and stored away in a freight warehouse. i had to get it out at night, and so lost time. the people would have kept me there until now giving exhibitions if i had shown up during the day." "but you did leave there in the daytime," urged jack. "you were never in the air since last night." "we left early this morning," was the reply, "and i was well up in the sky before many of the people saw me." "i never knew you could run one," frank said. "oh, i had some instructions from the wrights," was the modest reply, "and, besides, there was an expert at missoula who helped me get the machine together and contributed a few parting instructions." "then you've been in the air all day?" asked pat. "no, we stopped several times, of course, once on the right of way of the great northern railroad and filled our gasoline tanks," was the reply, "and rested there a few hours. jimmie had to eat there, of course!" "eat!" came the boy's voice from the fire. "if i ever get a bite at food again it will drop down into the toes of me shoes! here!" he shouted, as pat produced a can of pork and beans and started to open it. "you needn't mind opening that! i'll just swallow it as it is." "bright boy!" laughed pat, handing him a liberal supply of beans and fried bacon. "now fill up on that and then loosen up on your impressions of the sky." "i thought i'd make an impression on the earth before i got through," jimmie mumbled, his mouth full of beans. "we went up so far that the mountains looked like ant hills, didn't we, ned?" "about , feet," was the reply. "you see," he added, turning to frank, "i wanted to size up the situation before i landed. if there is anybody in this upturned country at all, our presence here is known. the aeroplane's chatter took good care of that. and, besides, our landing in the night, with the lights going, gave unmistakable evidence of something stirring." "i should say so," frank agreed. "and so," ned went on, "i wanted to learn if there were people about here, so i might visit them in the morning and put up the bluff of boy scouts playing with an aeroplane in the woods. we can't attempt anything in the mysterious line," he went on. "we've got to be entirely frank about everything except the business we are here on." "well," frank said, "we found people here to-day and called on them." "what sort of people?" "well, they seemed to have good broad backs," laughed frank. "they ran away from you?" asked ned, in surprise. "i should think they would have proved inquisitive. where were they?" "down by kintla lake." "indians?" asked ned. then frank told the story of the visit to the shore of the lake and the cavern, taking good care to describe the surroundings as closely as possible. ned laughed when the boy came to jack's adventure in the hidden chamber. "i say it is some deserted mine," pat declared, when frank had concluded the recital. "what else could it be?" "robber's nest!" suggested jack. ned remained silent for a moment and then abruptly asked: "what kind of footwear made those heelless prints?" "you may search me!" jack cut in. "must have been indian moccasins," frank observed. jimmie, who had been standing by the small fire, listening to the talk, now advanced to the little circle about the machine and uttered one word: "chinks!" "it is always chinks with jimmie," grinned frank. "when there is a cyclone in new york the chinks are to blame for it, if you leave it to him." "what would chinks be doing up here?" demanded pat. "don't they get gold by washing it out?" asked jack, with a nudge at jimmie's side. "perhaps they're going to start a laundry!" while this chaff was in progress ned stood looking thoughtfully in the direction of the lake. not a word did he say regarding the sudden and brief communication jimmie had presented. "any forest fires in sight?" asked pat, finally breaking the silence. "not one," jimmie answered. "i would have dropped into one if it had come my way. it was fierce up there!" "it is rather cool when you get up a couple of miles," ned laughed, "and jimmie wouldn't listen to reason regarding his clothes. to-morrow i'll give one of you boys a ride, and you may see for yourself." "not me!" pat exclaimed. "i'll stay below and help pick up the pieces." "i should like to go," frank said. "we may find the people we saw in the rowboat. when we become acquainted with them we may be able to learn something about that cavern." "i would advise remaining silent about the cavern," ned said. "it may be used for some criminal purpose, and we must not admit that we know of its existence. we are just carefree lads, here for an outing, remember," he added, with a laugh, "and we are due to make friends with everybody we come across." "but you made us lug all this camping outfit up here," complained jack, "so the men who steered the burros up the hills wouldn't know where we camped. what about that?" "i thought it best to cut off all communication with the people below," explained ned. "it may be that the purpose of our visit here is suspected. in that case some one from below might want to find us--for no good purpose. so we'll keep out of sight of the people in the towns, unless they see our aeroplane, and cultivate the acquaintance of the natives--if there are any." "how about gasoline and provisions?" asked pat. "i have plenty of gasoline stored on the right of way of the great northern railroad," ned replied, "enough to last us a month. it was piped into a hidden tank from an oil car by a train crew now out of the state. we are to get provisions at the same place, if we need more, for uncle sam fixed all the details for us. all we have to do is to find the fellows who are setting forest fires and bring them to punishment." "we ought to locate every little smudge, with that aeroplane," frank suggested. "that is my idea," ned replied. "have you been keeping a good lookout on the lake since you left it?" he added, turning to pat. "some one of us has had eyes on it every minute," was the satisfactory reply. "no one has returned, i'm sure." "you're not thinking of going there to-night, are you?" asked jack, with a slight shiver. "i wouldn't go in there again, even in broad daylight, for a million dollars!" "pat is afraid of the sky, and jack is afraid of the bowels of the earth!" laughed frank. "we'll have to tuck them both in bed before we can accomplish anything." "you may all go to bed but one," ned said, looking about the group, his eyes finally resting with a significant look on frank's excited face. "i want to look through that cavern before anything is taken out of it." frank, knowing the meaning of the look he had received, went to his little tent for his revolver and his electric searchlight and was soon ready for the expedition. jimmie looked sulky for a moment at being left out of the game, then his face brightened and he crawled into the tent that had been prepared for nestor and himself and burst into a fit of laughter. "i'll show 'em!" he said, stuffing the blanket into his mouth to suppress the sound of his merriment. "i'll teach 'em to put me in the discard." "any wild animals up here?" asked ned, as the two started away down the steep declivity. "two black bears and three wolves!" called jimmie, from his tent. this was a reference to the boy scout patrols to which the boys belonged. frank and jack were members of the famous black bear patrol of new york city, while ned, pat and jimmie were members of the wolf patrol. as the lad spoke frank and jack broke into growls which might well have come from the throat of the grizzliest grizzly in the rocky mountains, while pat sent forth a wolf howl, which might well have been a signal to the pack. "you may meet the real thing out here," warned ned, turning back to look over the plateau, now shining in the light of a half-moon. "there are both bears and wolves in this region. when you meet them, don't wait for boy scout signs!" "oh, we'll initiate 'em, all right," jimmie called from the tent, and ned and frank moved on down the declivity toward the lake. it was still early evening, and the moon was low down in the east, so the valley where the lake lay was not touched by its light. indeed, the plateau where the boys were would have been in the shadow of the mountain only for the dropping of the shoulder of the divide. in half an hour the two boys, after several slides which were anything but pleasant, gained the beach. the campfire was now dead, and the locality was still save for the voice of a night bird and the occasional splash of a leaping fish. the mouth of the cavern loomed like a dark patch on the lower bulk of the mountain. making as little noise as possible, ned and frank crept into the cavern, advancing by the sense of feeling until they came to the very end before turning on one of the electric flashlights. the round eye of the flame showed a long, narrow, tunnel-like tube running directly east, under the mountain. the door of rock was as the boys had left it earlier in the day. ned examined that portion of the rock which had swung out into the first chamber with considerable care, as the story of the swinging stone had interested him greatly. all along the top, up to the center, he found the checks of a stone-chisel. exactly in the middle an elevation of an inch fitted into a round cavity in the upper rock. at the bottom the same conditions were discovered. "rather a clever job," ned said, "but i don't see how it was ever done." "this door," frank said, "is not exactly like the remainder of the wall in grain, so it must have been brought here from some other locality. of course there was a hole between these two chambers, or the second one would never have been found. it would be easy enough to fit the stone door in by grooving out from the lower cavity and sliding the under pivot in." "sure," ned replied, getting down to examine the lower part of the door more closely, "and that is just what was done. then the groove was filled with concrete. pretty classy work here!" "and now the question is this," frank went on, "what was the door fitted for? why did the men who found the cave desire privacy? is there gold in there? have the men who have been setting fire to the forests established a home here? is this the hiding place of a band of outlaws? you see there are lots of questions to ask about the two caverns," frank added, with an uneasy laugh. ned closed the stone door and turned on both electric flashlights, making the place light as day where they stood. the inner cavern was as bare as the outer one save for dead leaves and grass which lay in heaps on the stone floor, and for half a dozen rough benches which were piled in one corner. at the farther end hung a gaudy curtain, once handsome, but now sadly spotted with mildew because of dampness. "here's the inner chamber," laughed frank, drawing the curtain aside. "and it looks like it was the private office of the bunch, too," he added, as he turned the light about the walls. there was a desk in the third cavern, a swivel chair, a small case of books, and a rusty safe, which looked as though it had not been opened for years. a current of fresh air came from the rear, and a small opening was soon discovered. "that doubtless leads to some cañon not far away," ned said. "makes a pretty decent place of it, eh?" "good enough for any person to hide in," replied frank. "now," he added, "tell me what you think of it. who cut this cavern, and who brought the furniture here? i'll admit that my thinker is not working." "nature made the caverns," ned replied. "there is what geologists call a fault in the rock here. owing to volcanic action, doubtless, the strata shifted, probably thousands of years ago, and when the seam appeared the broken pieces fell apart. these chambers show the width of the seam. there undoubtedly was a great earthquake at the time, and the lake below might have been dredged out at that time." "of course," frank said, "i might have known that! now, here's another question: how far does this seam extend under the rocky mountains? if it passes beyond these three chambers, why not make a fourth room for ourselves so as to be on the spot when the men who make headquarters of the place come back?" "that may be a good thing to do," ned admitted, "but, still, i would not like to be the one to lie in wait here. suppose we try to learn something of the character of the people who come here? they seem to sleep on dry leaves and eat off benches. rather tough bunch, i take it. perhaps we have struck uncle sam's enemies the first thing!" keeping their lights on, and working as silently as possible, always with an eye to the outer cavern, the boys made a careful search of the inner chamber. the desk was not fastened, and a cupboard afterward discovered in a niche was open also. there were dishes in the cupboard and writing materials in the desk. at the very bottom of the desk drawer ned came upon a surprise. "not so tough as i supposed," he said, turning to frank. "here's a typewriter ribbon. the sort of people who set fire to forests and hold up trains are hardly in the typewriter class. what do you make of it?" "well," frank said, with a chuckle, "if you'll tell me what the inhabitants of this place want of typewriter ribbons i'll tell you why they bring great tins of opium here. it seems that we have struck something more important than forest fires." chapter iv.--the aeroplane in danger. a strong wind came out of the western sea at ten o'clock that night and swept the lofty plateau as a woman might have swept it with a new broom. ned and frank, pursuing their investigations in the cavern, knew nothing of what was going on at the camp, but jack and pat were not long in ignorance of the danger of the situation. with the first strong rush of wind the boys were on their feet, steadying the aeroplane, driving stakes wherever the nature of the ground permitted, and running bracing cords. the shelter tents went down instantly and were blown against the rocks of the east, where they waved canvas arms in the tearing breeze like sheeted ghosts. the black clouds which swarmed up from the valley brought no rain, but fitful flashes of lightning and deep-toned thunder made a threatening sky. the roaring of the swirling trees in the cañon and on the slopes came up to the ears of the boys like the boom of a strong surf. after persistent efforts the boys succeeded in bracing the aeroplane so that there was little danger of its being swept away, though they still remained with their backs to the wind, holding on. as time passed, they crept close together in order that the situation might be discussed. "lucky thing we remained here," pat said, tugging with all his might to steady the monster machine against a particularly vicious dash of wind. "it would have gone sure, if we hadn't," jack screamed back. "i wish ned and frank would come and help. my back is creaking like a shaft that needs oiling with the strain on it." "a little help wouldn't go amiss," pat admitted, shouting at the top of his lungs in order that he might be heard above the whistling of the storm. "i wonder if we'll ever be able to put the tents up again?" jack shouted. "they are flapping and snapping like musketry out there on the rocks. i hope they won't blow away entirely." pat gazed anxiously in the direction indicated, but could only see pieces of canvas bellying up in the wind, mounting upward like balloons at times, then falling back to earth when a short lull came in the storm. "why," he cried, in a moment, "where's jimmie? i thought i saw him here a moment ago. have you seen him?" "not since the storm," panted jack. "he may have been smothered in his tent," pat shouted. "you hold on here while i go and look him up." "be sure that you keep close to the ground," warned jack. "if you don't you'll be blown away." it was not at all difficult for the lad to reach the flapping tents, for the wind generously assisted him in the journey. only that he crept on his hands and knees he would have been tossed against the wall where the tents lay. struggling with the tearing canvas, bracing himself against the face of the cliff, the boy looked over the ruined tents but found no indication of the presence of the boy he sought, either dead or alive. then he felt along the angle of the foot of the rise with no better success. "he's not there," he reported, crawling back to jack, now braced tenaciously with his toes and elbows digging into the soil above the rock. "did you find his clothes?" asked jack. "not a thing belonging to his outfit," was the reply. "well, he went to bed, didn't he?" asked jack, a sudden suspicion entering his mind. "he went into his tent," was the reply, "but i did not see him undress." then pat, much to his astonishment, heard jack laughing as if mightily pleased over something that had taken place. "you've got your nerve!" he exclaimed. "laughing at a time like this. i'll bet the kid has been blown off the plateau." there was now a little lull in the drive of the wind and jack nudged his companion with his elbow, turning an amused face as he did so. "blown off nothing!" he said. "you saw how he acted when ned went off without him--how sulky he was?" "i noticed something of the sort." "well, jimmie ducked after him!" "why, he was told to remain here." "he has been told that before," jack said, "and he's never obeyed orders. he followed ned from manila to yokohama, not long ago, and made a hit in doing it, too. oh, it is a sure thing that jimmie is not far from ned at this minute." "the little scamp!" grinned pat. "he seems to think that ned can't get along without his constant presence and his pranks," jack continued. "he generally stirs something up in his immediate vicinity, but he's a pretty good scout at that." "i hope he is with ned," pat said. the wind now died down a bit, so that it was no longer necessary to hold the aeroplane, and the boys, after seeing that the rope still held, began the work of repairing the tents. the clouds drifted away and the moon looked down as bravely as if it had not just hidden its face from sight at the threats of the wind! the electric flashlights with which the boys were well provided seemed inadequate and pat started in to build a fire. "i don't know about that," jack said. "if there had been a fire here when that wind came up it would have been roaring in the cañon now. the storm would have swept it down on the trees there, and the whole gully would soon have become a roaring furnace. better cut out the fire." "i guess you are right," pat said, reluctantly laying his dry faggots aside. while the boys worked, trying to restore the shelter tents to something like form, the wind came up once more and reached out for the aeroplane. pat and jack renewed their holding efforts, and thanked their stars that no fire had been built on the plateau, for the forest about was dry as tinder. presently a voice which neither recognized came out of the shadows cast by a mass of clouds just then occupying the sky where the moon should have been. "hello!" the voice said. the boys looked at each other in perplexity for a moment and then jack answered back. "hello!" he said. "are you all safe up here, safe and sound?" the voice asked, and then the figure of a tall man, roughly dressed, but bearing the manner, as faintly observed in the darkness, of a gentleman, advanced toward the aeroplane, to which the lads were still devoting their whole attention. "safe and sound!" repeated pat. the stranger sat down by jack's side and laid hold of the aeroplane. "pulls hard, doesn't it?" he asked, as the machine, forced by the wind, drew stoutly on the ropes and the muscles of the boys. [illustration: illustration no. ] "pulls like a horse," jack replied. "i'm greer, of the forest service," the stranger said, in a moment. "i saw a fire up here this afternoon, and i was afraid harm might come from it during the gale. one blazing brand down in that cañon, and millions of feet of timber would be destroyed." "as you see," jack said, "we have no fire." "this, i presume," greer said, still pulling at the machine, "is the aeroplane your friends came in this evening?" "the same," replied pat shortly. the lad was annoyed to think that the forester, as he called himself, had been watching them. if he had taken so much interest in their movements, pat thought, why hadn't he shown himself before? jack's thoughts seemed to be running in the same direction. in fact, both boys were suspicious of this soft-spoken stranger who had come to them out of the storm with questions on his lips. "where are your friends?" greer asked, in a moment. "i hope they are not out in the forest thinking of starting a fire?" "they've gone to the lake after fish," jack said, accounting for the absence of the others with the first words that came to his lips. greer gave a quick start and leaned over to look into jack's face. "down at the lake?" he repeated. "not out in a boat in a storm like this?" "no," replied jack, gruffly, so gruffly, in fact, that the stranger caught the hostile note and turned away. "i'm always afraid of fire on a night like this," greer continued in a moment, "and rarely sleep until morning. my cabin is back on the mountain a short distance, some distance above this plateau. that's how i happened to see what was going on here." "rather a lonely life," pat said, resolved to keep the fellow talking if he could. "because," he reasoned, "you can tell what's in a man's head if he keeps his mouth open and his tongue moving, but no one can tell the secret locked up behind closed lips." "yes, it is rather lonely," greer replied. "i'm glad you boys are here. going to remain long?" "only a few weeks--just to hunt and fish," was jack's reply. "if you don't mind," greer went on, "i'll come down and visit you now and then." the statement almost took the form of a question, and jack gave a grudging answer that the visits would be a pleasure, though he believed that the man was arranging a way of watching their movements. "i wish this wind would go down," greer said, presently. "as i said before, i'm always afraid of fire on nights like this. see! the wind blows straight off the distant ocean strong and steady, and a fire started out there to the west would run over this plateau and over the mountain like a wash of tide." "there's nothing to burn on the plateau," jack said, glad of an opportunity to contradict the stranger. "nothing to burn!" greer repeated. "i reckon you don't know much about forest fires, young man! why, it would burn the soil down to bed rock, even evaporate the water in the rock itself and crumble it down to ashes. a forest fire is no joking matter." the boys remained silent, looking cautiously into each other's faces and both wondering how a forester, a man marooned in a great wilderness should be so exact in his speech, should wear such a shirt--actually a dress shirt--as they saw under his rough coat when the wind blew it aside. "i rather think there's more company coming," greer continued, seeing that the boys were not inclined to comment on his warnings. "a moment ago i saw a flash of light at the foot of the rise to the west." the wind was still blowing fiercely, but both boys turned and looked down the incline. there was a faint light there now, glimmering among the trees. "it looks like a lantern," greer said. "and the fellow seems about to climb the hill. good luck to him, in this gale." "it seems to me," pat said, "that the light we see is running along on the ground. if that should be a forest fire, there would be the dickens to pay to-night--and nothing to pay with!" "that is not the way forest fires start," greer said, turning indolently in the direction of the divide. "that is a man with a lantern." the boys watched the glimmer below with interest. the man with the lantern, if there was a man and a lantern, seemed to be moving with the wind. then, again, he seemed to divide himself, as the lower orders of life at the bottom of the seas divide themselves, appearing on both sides of a dark space at the same moment. they were satisfied that something unusual was going on, but were for the moment lulled into a half-sense of security by the positive assertions of the alleged forester. presently they turned away from the scene below and fixed their eyes on the stranger. he was standing straight up, his tall figure braced against the wind, peering down into the cañon. notwithstanding the steady wind, the sky was now comparatively free of clouds, and they saw him lift a hand with something bright shining in it. it appeared to the lads that he was signaling to some one in the cañon. they turned away instantly so that greer did not note their observation of him, and again fixed their gaze on the slope to the west. the lantern, if there was a lantern, was growing larger! it was showing itself in half a dozen places now, and was tracing lights far up in the crotches of dead trees. then the penetrating odor of burning wood and grass came up the slope. filled with a fear which could hardly be expressed in words, the boys faced greer again. he still stood facing the cañon to the south, but his hands were not lifted now. there was no need for that, the boys thought, for the previous signal seemed to have sufficed. among the dry faggots on the ground at the bottom of the cañon there was another man with a lantern. he, too, if there was such a man, was moving about among the trees and dividing himself into sections, as the rudimental creatures of the world multiply themselves. pat sprang to greer's side and shook him roughly by the arm. "there's a fire down there!" he cried. in the uncertain moonlight the boy saw the stranger's face harden. "you are mistaken," he said, turning away toward the lake. "smell the smoke!" jack shouted. "i tell you the forest is on fire on two sides of us." "then your friends have set the fires!" greer shouted, against the wind. "i have been suspicious of you all along--ever since you failed to satisfactorily account for the absence of your friends. it is all very well for you to come here in an aeroplane and start a conflagration! but how do you think that we, who are not so well provided with means of getting away, are to escape death?" pat drew back his hand, as if to strike the fellow, but jack restrained him. "you set the fires!" pat shouted, then. "you set it through your fellow conspirators! i saw you signaling to the cañon!" "you're no more a forester than i am!" jack added. "you're a scoundrel, and ought to be sent to prison for life." there was no more talk for a time. greer stood defiantly against the wall of rock to the east, as if fearful of an attack from behind, his right hand in his bulging pocket. the boys knew that he had a weapon there, and their own hands were not empty. the aeroplane drew and shivered in the rising gale, but now little attention was paid to it. pat and jack were listening for some indication of the return of ned and frank. no farther fable of a man with a lantern was necessary, for fire was racing up the western slope, heading directly for the plateau and the priceless aeroplane. down in the cañon the flames were leaping from tree to tree. a stifling smoke filled the air, always in swift motion, but stifling still. chapter v.--the revelation of a tragedy. "smugglers!" frank exclaimed, dropping an armful of unopened opium tins on the floor of the cavern. "smugglers, all right, all right!" ned looked the tins over carefully. they were well covered with chinese characters, and were dirty, as if they had been hidden away in the earth for a long time. "who would have suspected it?" frank continued. "we are close to the british frontier, but, all the same, this seems to me to be an awkward place to land and store the dope stuff." "where did you find it?" asked ned. "there is a false back to that cupboard in the north wall," frank replied. "when i knocked on the boards they gave forth a hollow sound, and so i tore one away. hence the opium. and there are pipes there, too--just such pipes as one sees in the joints on pell street, in little old new york." "you remember what jimmie said?" asked ned. "i remember a good many things the little rascal has said," was the laughing reply. "he's always saying something." "well," ned continued, "the boy was right when he expressed his opinion of the heelless footprints in one word." "chinks!" grinned frank. "of course!" the boys now went over to the cupboard in the niche and began tearing away the boards. after a few had been displaced ned stopped and began experimenting in fitting them in position again. "what's doing now?" demanded frank. "we must remove them so as to be able to return them as we found them before we leave," ned replied. "it is important that the inhabitants of this robber den do not know that we have discovered it." "don't you ever think they don't know it right now," frank said. "we haven't seen any of them since they rowed around the point, but they're stirring about, just the same. we may see more of them before we get out of this cavern." "well," ned said, "we must take all the precautions needful, and if they are of no avail we shall not be to blame for what takes place. even if they know that we have found the cavern, they need not know that we have penetrated into the office chamber. now, draw that last board away carefully, and we'll see what there is behind the false bottom." frank drew the board away and was confronted by a long, low tunnel--an uncanny, narrow tunnel which had evidently been enlarged from a fault in the rock, and which appeared to penetrate far into the bulk of the mountain. "see!" he cried. "the cupboard was built at the mouth of a cross fault in the rock, and there is no knowing what is behind it. hold your flashlight higher and i'll crawl in and look about." "be careful," ned warned. "i have seen great holes at the bottom of tunnels like that. don't break your neck, or tumble down so far that i can't fish you out." frank grinned and crept through the opening made by the removal of the back of the closet. the place was not high enough for him to stand upright, and so he proceeded on hands and knees. "this is a bedroom," he shouted back to ned. "there's lots of ticks and blankets here." there was silence for a moment, and then the boy's voice came from farther in the tunnel. "and here's kegs of whisky," he cried. "it smells like a bowery saloon. come on in!" "i think one of us would better remain outside," ned replied. "i wouldn't like to be surprised while in there and fastened in with rocks." frank went on down the tunnel for some distance, calling back, now and then, to report his discoveries. there were weapons stored there, barrels of gasoline, packages of dynamite. then, for several long minutes, there came no voice from the interior, and ned put his head inside and called out softly: "frank!" there was no reply, and ned was about to advance into the opening when the sound of a footstep came on the rocky floor of the chamber just behind him. the footstep was a stealthy one, halting, as if some person were listening between the steps. ned's first act was to shut the light off from his electric candle. then he moved away from the niche in the wall where the cupboard had been built in and waited. his greatest fear was that frank would turn about and show his light, and so expose them both to danger. while he listened, almost holding his breath, the steps came nearer to the cupboard and halted. but the halt was only for an instant, for the unseen figure moved on again, this time back toward the entrance. directly the footsteps were heard no more, and then the crash of falling rocks reached the boy's ears. he did not have to think long in order to understand what that sound portended. he knew that they had been observed by some of the outlaws who made the cavern their home and their storehouse as well, had been followed into the inner chamber, and were now to be fastened into the cavern, probably left there to starve, with tons of rock bulking before the entrance to the third chamber. it was not a pleasant situation. while he studied the peril over in as optimistic a mood as was possible under the circumstances, he heard frank calling to him from the narrow tunnel behind the cupboard. the boy was evidently excited, for his voice rang high. "ned!" he cried. "come on in!" the noise of falling, rolling rocks stopped at the sound of frank's voice, and ned thought he heard a half-suppressed chuckle in the darkness. "hurry!" came frank's voice once more. "there's something in here that takes the nerve out of me." there was a low exclamation of rage at the entrance, where the stones were piling up, and then the grind of falling rocks was continued. ned had, of course, no idea as to how many persons were engaged in building up the wall which threatened to shut him in until life was extinct, or exactly how it was being done, but he knew that the correct thing for him to do was to prevent the completion of the work. if only one man had arrived at the cavern he might be frightened and driven away by a little shooting. with bullets whizzing through what was left of the opening, the man who was building the crude wall would not be likely to present his body before the space still uncovered. this reasoning brought the boy to a consideration of the matter of ammunition, but he decided that, with the cartridges carried by frank, they could defend the place for a long time. but another question intervened. the rocks which, though unseen, he knew to be blocking the space where the rug had hung were undoubtedly falling from a distance. they might have been stored above the natural doorway for the very purpose to which they were now being put. if this were true, then the building of the trap would continue, regardless of his bullets. while he studied over this problem, slowly making up his mind to put it to the test, frank's voice came from the tunnel again. "what's doing out there?" the boy asked. "why don't you come in here?" "shut off your light!" ordered ned, as a glimmer showed inside. "not me," replied frank. "i need all the light i can get in here!" "what have you found?" asked ned anxiously. frank did not reply instantly, and ned heard the rattle of stones while he waited for his answer. the task of piling up the wall was progressing rapidly, and it seemed to the boy that the stones were all falling from a distance. "shut off your light and come out," ned said, impatient at the hesitation. "i wouldn't stay here in the dark for a thousand dollars a second," frank replied, "but i'll come out. why don't you show a light?" "i'm not looking for any chance bullets," ned replied, coolly. "we're caught, my boy, and it is up to us to move cautiously. why don't you turn off your light?" he added, half angrily. "oh," frank replied, "you're getting it out there, too, are you? well, i was trying to save you a shock. there's a dead man in here, and i'm going to keep my light going until i'm out of the hole. i did shut it off once, and felt the grasp of a hand on my neck--and there wasn't any hand there either." "a dead man?" repeated ned. "sure," frank replied. "and he's not been dead very long, at that." again the boy heard that vicious chuckle at the entrance. then a voice came out of the mouldy darkness: "how are you getting on in the secret service, ned nestor?" the voice asked. "finely!" ned called back, but it seemed to him that his voice shook with the peril of the situation. he was known, his mission there was no secret, the enemies of the government were already on the ground, ready to combat him in his work. just how far their hostility would extend was evidenced by the fall of rocks outside. it seemed to the boy that the struggle would be to the death. "who are you talking to?" frank asked. ned did not reply to the question, for there came the sound of a scuffle outside, then a shot, a cry of pain, and the cavern was still as a grave. in the silence frank's movements were heard, and ned knew that he was backing out of the tunnel, with his light still burning. entirely at a loss to account for the fracas outside, ned awaited his approach with a fast-beating heart. when at last he shut off his electric searchlight and dropped from the tunnel through the old cupboard ned seized his hand and drew him away. "did you fire that shot?" frank whispered. "no," was the reply. "there's fighting outside, and the shot was fired there. now, i had a notion of sending a stream of bullets through the doorway, but the persons who are fighting the man who came upon us here may be our friends, so we must be careful what we do. here. take my flashlight. open the two at the same instant and turn the rays on the doorway. i'll be ready with my gun." but before this movement could be carried out a voice the boys knew came out of the darkness. "wonder you wouldn't give a fellow a lift," jimmie said, in a panting tone. "i've got to the limit with this big stiff." the lights were on instantly, with ned and frank bounding toward the opening. the way was narrow, for many rocks had been dropped down from a broad ledge just above, but they managed to crawl through. but before ned could reach the struggling pair on the floor the under figure wiggled away, staggered for an instant, and then made for the outer air at good speed. jimmie sat upon the stone floor with a disgusted look on his freckled face. "now see what you've been an' gone an' done!" he cried. "you've let me pirate get away! but he took a bullet with him," he added. "how many were here?" asked ned, shutting off his light and telling frank to do the same. "how many men did you see?" "just that one," jimmie replied, sorrowfully, "an' he got away!" ned advanced to the entrance and listened. at first he heard the sound of limping footsteps, then the sweep of oars. he ran down to the beach and swept his light over the waters of the lake. a slender boat was speeding far to the north, and a solitary rower was bending to his work. now, for the first time, ned noted that a fierce gale was blowing from the west, and his thoughts went back to the plateau where the aeroplane lay exposed to the storm. he ran back to the cavern, barely escaping being blown off his feet on the way, and called to the boys. "there's a stiff wind blowing," he said, "and i'm afraid for the aeroplane. we must get back to the camp immediately." "the wind was on when i came in," jimmie said, "an' it near blew me into the lake, even if i did hold on to the trees. we can never make the hill in the storm." "we've got to," ned insisted. "besides," jimmie continued, "we want to find out about the dead man frank has been telling me about. we can't take him with us, an' he will not be here when we come back. whatever we learn about him, an' the cause of his death, must be learned now." "sometimes, jimmie," frank burst out, "you exhibit signs of almost human intelligence!" "the boy is right," ned observed. "i'm so rattled that i hardly know what i'm about. we ought to be in pursuit of that rascal who is rowing on the lake, we ought to be on the plateau, looking after the aeroplane, and we ought to be here, finding out if a murder has been committed." "it is a murder, all right," frank said, "for the floor in the tunnel is sticky with blood." "i'm goin' in there!" jimmie exclaimed. "go if you want to," frank grunted. ned laid a hand on jimmie's arm as he started away. "if you don't mind," he said, "i'd much rather you remained on guard. you have keen eyes, and may be of great service here." "all right!" the boy said. "i'll do anything you ask me to if you don't leave me out of the game." "no danger of your getting into the dust heap," frank laughed. "how long have you been prowling about here?" "just a short time," was the reply. "i remained in the tent until i thought pat an' jack were asleep an' then cut my lucky. say, but the wind was blowin' when i slid down the slope toward the lake." "it must be fierce up on the plateau," frank admitted. "say," he added, turning to ned, "if you don't mind, i'll go on up the hill and help the boys with the aeroplane. it would be a tragedy if it should be destroyed now." "all right," ned said. "get up there as soon as possible. the boys may be having trouble with the 'plane. and jimmie," he added, "suppose you keep an eye on the plateau? the lads may signal." "too dark for that," the boy replied, "but i'll keep a sharp lookout, just the same. go on and look over the man frank found under the mountain." frank moved on up the hill, clinging to trees as he advanced, and stooping low, even then, to escape the force of the wind, while jimmie stationed himself in the opening and looked out on the lake. ned disappeared in the cavern, and the boy saw his torch grow fainter as he climbed through the narrow opening left in the rock which had been thrown over the natural doorway. it was getting late and the boy was sleepy, but he struggled manfully to keep his eyes open. directly, however, he had no trouble in this regard, for he started up with a strange, acrid odor in his nostrils. the low-lying sky was aflame. chapter vi.--above the clouds at night. the wind gained strength as the heat of the forest fires increased. the roaring of the gale and the heavy undertone of the racing flames effectually drowned the voice of the forester, and it was only by the motion of his lips that the boys knew that he was trying to talk to them. presently he threw his hands high above his head, weaponless, then lowered one and beckoned to them. still keeping grasp on their revolvers, the boys approached him. his face was deadly pale, save for the glow of the fire which shone unnaturally on the wall behind him. "this is no time for accusations," he shouted. "we must do something to check the fire." "what is to be done?" jack demanded, half won over by the apparent distress of the fellow. "the blaze will burn itself out against the mountains," was the reply, shouted at the top of the speaker's lungs, "but the fire in the cañon must be checked by going on ahead and felling trees." "won't it burn itself out there, too?" asked pat. "i'm afraid not," was the shrill reply. "there is an opening from the top of the cañon to a valley in a fold of the hills. the fire will do incalculable damage if it passes through that." "what do you suppose we can do against a fire like that?" demanded pat. "an army could not stop the blaze now." "you are mistaken!" shrilled the other. "three choppers can clear a space which the fire will not cross." "we'll get our axes and try," jack said, reluctantly. "then make haste!" greer shouted. "at all events we must leave this place, for the fire will soon be here. come!" when the boys turned to verify this statement they saw that the planes of the aeroplane were red with the reflection of the blaze below, and that the creeping fire was already showing at the lip of the plateau. "the aeroplane is doomed, i guess," wailed jack, and pat thought he saw a look of satisfaction in greer's face as the words reached his ears. the smoke was now rolling over the plateau in great clouds, but through it pat thought he saw figures moving from the south slope toward the aeroplane. calling out to jack, he sprang toward the machine, the suspicion in his mind that these were confederates of the alleged forester, and that the machine was, after all, the main point of attack. greer saw the movement and darted toward the boy as if to block his way, but pat struck out viciously and turned him back. then a bit of flame sprang up in the cloud of smoke which was sweeping over the plateau. it seemed to pat that an attempt to burn the machine in advance of the arrival of the forest fire was being made. when he darted forward again greer caught him by the shoulder and hurled him away. "get your axes!" he shouted. "there is no time to waste here." then the smoke lifted for an instant and pat saw three figures rise above the rim of the northern slope and hasten toward the aeroplane. their arrival there was followed by shots and calls for assistance. then the smoke shut down again, and the roaring of the flames drowned all other sounds. greer stood for an instant, braced against the wind, shielding his face from the hot blasts scorching the grass of the plateau, then turned and ran. then both boys heard a call from the direction of the machine. "the way is clear to the cavern!" were the words they heard. "remain there until we return!" "that's ned," shouted pat. "just in time to save the aeroplane." almost before the words were out of his mouth there came a lull in the wind and the great machine ran forward a few yards, then swung into the air. at that moment frank came running toward the two astonished boys. "we've got to leg it!" frank shouted, his mouth close to jack's ear. "drop low on the ground so as to get fresh air and run!" jack, although he had heard ned's voice giving directions, and although he knew that frank was by his side, could hardly sense the situation, or all that had taken place. the action had been so swift that he could not yet realize that ned had snatched the aeroplane away from certain destruction and lifted it into the stormy sky in so short a time. however, he did not stop then to place the events in neat order in his mind, for the fire was working across the scant vegetation of the plateau and the air was hot and stifling. it was all like a page out of the arabian nights, but he put the wonder of it away, grasped frank's hand, and, crouching, ran toward the incline leading to the lake. there was safety there, at least. now and then, in their swift flight, the boys stopped and looked upward, hoping to learn something of the fate of the aeroplane, but the great machine was not in sight. "ned never can make it live in this gale!" jack almost sobbed, when, at last, they all came to a halt at the margin of the lake. "the whole shebang will go to pieces and the boys will be killed." "aw, forget it!" grunted pat. "i'm not in love with airships, but i know that ned wouldn't have gone up unless he knew that he could handle the machine. he'll lift above the divide and drive straight before the wind. the good lord only knows how far the gale will take him, but i'm betting my head against turnips that he'll come back by morning, asking why breakfast isn't ready!" "how did you get wise to the trouble up here?" jack asked of frank. "why, i don't exactly know," the boy replied. "ned sent me on ahead to look out for the aeroplane. he said he wanted to remain in the cavern and investigate. i was making slow progress up the hill when ned and jimmie came running after me. i had noticed long before that the sky looked like fires were burning somewhere." "i should say so," pat cut in. "the clouds looked like they had been soaked in red paint." "when ned came up to me, running like a racehorse," frank went on, "he said he was going to take the aeroplane out, wind or no wind. i didn't have much chance to talk with him, but i understood that he was going to do just what pat has suggested--run before the wind and swing back whenever he could." "i presume jimmie is good and scared by this time!" jack commented. "when we got to the machine," frank went on, "we found two men there with some sort of torches in their hands, trying to set the machine on fire. we caught them unawares and left them lying there. i hope they didn't get burned to death." there was a short cessation of speech while the boys listened to the roaring of the flames and watched the fire mounting into the sky. it was a wild scene--one calculated to bring terror to the breast of any human being. the wind was dying down a little, but the clouds were still driving fast before it, their edges tinged with flame so that they resembled golden masses floating across an eternity of space clothed in smoke. while the boys watched the great display frank pointed to a wall of flame rounding the corner of the plateau. "the fire will burn this slope," he said, "and we've either got to get into the cave or out on the lake. which shall it be?" "the cave for mine!" jack cried. "and mine," echoed pat. "who knows what the fire will do to the lake?" but frank had had previous experience in the cavern. he was thinking of the still figure he had found lying there, and of the dark stains on the floor. "if we could find a boat," he said, without mentioning his real reason for objecting to the cave, "we might get along very well on the lake. we don't know what stifling air we shall find in the cave, and, besides, the men we have just had a fracas with may return at any time. it wouldn't be nice to be locked up in that hole in the ground." the wind was dying down to a steady breeze, and the fires seemed to burn lower. the clouds above were dark and threatening, save where gilded by the reflection from below, and seemed to be massing. frank held up a hand and shouted. "rain!" he cried. "rain!" it was no gentle spring shower that opened upon the earth then. the fountains of the great deep seemed to have opened wide. the water fell in sheets, and in an instant the boys were wet to the skin. "better than fire!" jack suggested. the rain pelted down upon the forest fires viciously, and the hissing protests of the angry embers rose in the air. through the thick veil of the rain clouds of steam could be seen rolling over the lake and along the threatened incline. in ten minutes water was pouring down the steep hill in sheets and the fires were leaping no more. pleased as the boys were at the opportune arrival of the rain-bearing clouds, they could not help wondering if the freak of chance which had preserved the forests of northern montana had not brought ned and jimmie sudden death. "they never can handle the machine in such an air-ocean," jack declared, but the more optimistic pat asserted that ned must have been a mile above the rain clouds before a drop of water fell. "i guess the fire brought this rain on," frank said, wiggling about in his wet garments, "but it's just as wet as if brought about by some other means. what are we going to do now?" "why not go to the cave until the rain stops?" asked pat. "it is colder in there than it is here," frank said, still thinking of the silent figure in the narrow tunnel back of the cupboard. "we can't get any more water in our clothes and hides than we have now," jack observed, "so we may as well stay outside and watch for ned and the aeroplane. i don't believe any other person ever took an aeroplane up in such a storm. i'm afraid ned was smashed against the divide." "ned's all right," insisted frank. "suppose we go back to the plateau and see if there's anything left of our tents." "i'm game for that," pat said, "but," he added, turning a keen gaze on frank, "i'd like to know why you object to going to the cave. jack and i would like to see it." "well," frank replied, not without some hesitation at bringing the scene in the tunnel back to his mind in form for expression in words, "there's a crime been committed in the cave, and it's uncanny." "a crime!" repeated pat, all excitement at the suggestion of another adventure, "what kind of a crime?" "a murder," replied frank, with a shiver. "let's go in and see," pat said. "frank's afraid," jack put in. "of course i'm afraid," frank admitted. "you go in there, and crawl on your knees through the thick air of a narrow tunnel, and put your hand on a dead man's face, and feel your other hand slipping in the blood on the floor, and you'll be afraid, too. i'm not going back there." "we can stand here in the rain all night, if you want to," pat said, with scorn in his voice. "rainwater is said to be good for the complexion." the wind was slowing down and the rainfall was not so heavy as before. the boys, pat and jack, joking frank about his terror for the cave, and frank just a little angry, began the ascent of the slope leading to the plateau. "the rain saved the trees next to the mountain," pat said, presently, "and if it checked the fire on the plateau at the same line our tents are all right. say," he added, "who ever heard of such a downpour as that. i reckon the rain swept in from the ocean in heavy clouds which were broken open by the mountains." "much you know about it!" laughed jack. "you talk as if you could cut a cloud with a knife." "anyway," persisted pat, "the water tumbled out and checked the fires. wonder what became of the man who said his name was greer? he was standing in with the men who were trying to burn the aeroplane, all right enough, and i believe the whole circus was started just to destroy the airship and bring ned's investigations to a close." "we always do get into the thick of it at the first jump," frank said, remembering the bomb under the cottage in the canal zone and the raid on the nipa hut in the philippines. "whenever we've got anything coming to us, we get it by lightning express." "you bet we do!" jack exclaimed. "now we're getting a clear sky," he added, pointing upward, "and we're getting it short order time, too!" the heavy clouds were gone, the moon was smiling down on the drenched earth, the stars were winking significantly toward a spot on the plateau where two unrecognizable figures, half burned away, were lying. when the boys reached the top of the climb and advanced to the spot where the aeroplane had stood they turned sick with the horror of the thing. "i almost wish we had let them destroy the aeroplane," sighed frank. "i don't like to think that these men came to their death through us. it is awful!" "did you shoot them?" asked pat. frank shook his head. "they shot at us," he said. "they fired as soon as we got to the rim of the dip, but missed because of the smoke and the wind. then we rushed them, and they went down--to escape punishment, i thought--and so ned got the aeroplane away." "then you had nothing to do with their death," consoled pat. "they came here to commit a crime and were overcome by the smoke and heat." frank would gladly have accepted this version of what had taken place, but he could not bring his mind to do so at once. the horror of what he had found in the cave was still upon him. leaving the spot where what remained of the outlaws lay, the boys hastened to the wall of rock which terminated the plateau on the east. the rain had indeed saved the tents from destruction. the canvas was huddled against the wall, stained with smoke and heavy with rain, but in fairly good condition. "we'll have to remain here, or about here, until ned comes," pat said, "so we may as well put the tents up. i wonder if it isn't most morning?" "does that mean that you are getting hungry?" grinned jack. "you bet it does!" was the reply. "anyway, i'm going to see if i can find dry wood enough for a fire. if i can i'll make some hot coffee. ned will see the fire, and know we are not in the cave." then an exclamation from frank called the speaker's attention to the clear sky over the divide. the upper strata of clouds were drifting westward on a high current of air--what few clouds there were--and far up in the blue, the moonlight trimming the planes with silver, rode the aeroplane, seemingly intact, and working back on the high current toward the pacific coast. chapter vii.--a key with a broken stem. the lights were burning low in a bachelor flat on a noisy street corner in the city of san francisco, and a man of perhaps thirty lay on a couch with his eyes closed. there were in this sitting room, which faced one of the noisy streets, a grand piano, a costly music cabinet, a walnut bookcase filled with expensively bound volumes, numerous lazy chairs of leather, and the rug on the polished floor was rich and soft. the occupant of the flat evidently enjoyed luxurious things and had the money to pay for them. when a clock in a distant steeple struck midnight there came a knock at the locked door in the main corridor which connected with the private hallway on which the flat opened. a japanese servant, small, obsequious, keen-eyed, opened the door, after the hesitation of a moment, and peeked out. he would have closed it again instantly, seeing a stranger there, only ned nestor, who had anticipated some action of the kind, thrust a shoe into the opening, and, reaching in, unfastened the chain. "i wish to see mr. albert lemon," he said. the jap tried to force the door back and lock it, but was unsuccessful. "no savvy!" he cried, as ned brushed past him and stood in the private hall. ned paid no further attention to him, but entered the sitting room and at once advanced to the couch where the man lay. the figure on the couch did not move, but the jap forced himself in the boy's way with his cry of "no savvy!" "opium?" ned asked, pointing down to the man. "no savvy!" "hit the pipe?" he asked, putting the question in a new way. "no savvy! no savvy!" "dope, then?" ned went on. "tell me if this man has been doping himself into unconsciousness. dope, eh?" ned lifted his voice, half hoping that the man on the couch would show some signs of life, but there was no movement of the eyelids. "no savvy!" grunted the jap. ned took the servant by his shoulders, pushed him gently out of the room, and closed and locked the door, the key being in the lock on the inside. "no savvy! no savvy!" the words came through the thin panel of the door in quick succession for a minute and then silence. again ned advanced to the side of the couch and looked down upon the semi-unconscious man. it was clear to the boy that the fellow sensed what was taking place, but was too well satisfied with the drugged condition in which he lay to disturb his poise of mind by taking note of anything whatever. the figure of the fellow was dressed in expensive clothes of latest cut, but they were soiled, and even torn in places. the disreputable condition of the garments reminded ned of a suit in which he had once been hauled through a briar patch and pulled into a pond at the hands, or horns, rather, of a village cow, assisted by a rope. his clothes, it is true, had not been expensive ones at the time of the occurrence, but the looks of the clothes the drugged man wore reminded him of the damage his cheaper ones had sustained. the face of the man on the couch was deadly pale, with the drawn look about the skin which comes of much familiarity with the drug made of the poppy. it was still an attractive face, even in its degradation, and the forehead was that of a capable man. ned drew a chair to the side of the couch and sat down. even if he should at that time succeed in attracting the attention of the man, the fellow was in no condition to answer the important questions he was there to ask. presently the jap, or some one else, came and rapped lightly on the door, and ned opened it a trifle and looked out. "no savvy!" cried the jap, repeating the words like a parrot, standing in the hall with many signs of fright on his yellow face. "all right!" ned said, shutting the door in his face, "you don't have to." "i can't blame him for thinking this a cheeky invasion," ned smiled, as he returned to his chair at the side of the couch. "it isn't exactly the thing to walk into a man's private room in this manner." ned had decided to sit by the side of the half conscious man until he returned to his full mentality. questions now might produce only pipe dreams, for the imagination is rather too active under such circumstances. five days before ned had left the boys in a cup on the western slope of the rocky mountains, not far from the summit, after explaining to them that he was going to the city to investigate a clue connected with the murder of the man who had been found in the cavern. leaving the aeroplane safely hidden at missoula, he had traveled by rail to san francisco. in his handbag on this trip were two seemingly unimportant articles--a piece of tape cut from the inner side of the collar of the dead man's coat, and a small, odd-shaped key with the stem broken off so that it was only about an inch in length. the key had been the only article found in the dead man's pockets. the strip of tape bore the name of a san francisco tailor. the directory had assisted him in finding the tailor, and the tailor had informed him that the coat had been made for one albert lemon, whose address he gave. so here he was, in lemon's apartment, seeking information concerning the dead man, while lemon, supposedly lemon, lay in an opium daze on the couch. but ned's time, waiting for the man to come back to consciousness, was not all wasted. moving carefully about the room, he found that the broken key fitted a writing desk which stood between two windows. the lock which it fitted, however, was not in good condition, for the bolt had been pried back, damaging the polished edge of the casing which held the socket. the desk contained nothing of importance, and ned left it as he found it. sitting there in the soft light of the room, he did not know whether the man on the couch was albert lemon or whether the man who had died in the cavern was albert lemon. he believed, however, that the outlaws he had encountered in the mountains, had murdered the man, and felt that the surest way to trace the crime to them was to find out why the man had joined them--why he was there in the tunnel back of the cupboard. this would be likely to bring out a motive for the deed. he did not, of course, know whether the dead man had stood as an enemy to the outlaws, or whether he had stood as a friend. but that could make no difference with the quest he was on. he believed that the outlaws were the men he had been instructed to hunt down, and knew that proof could be obtained only by an intimate knowledge of their associations, their ways, their motives. the friends of the dead man he thought, would know something about them, perhaps be able to place them in the circle in which they lived when not in the hills. in work of this kind it is the first task of an investigator to "place" the man he is pursuing. the burglar is as good as taken when he is traced back to those he associates with in his hours of leisure. in the absence of a clue pointing to a person, the investigator busies himself in finding a motive. ned believed that he now had the personal clue. the motive would place the proof in his hands. so his secret service work for the government was leading him into the investigation of a murder mystery. he smiled as he held up the key and wondered if the facts when discovered would bear out the suspicions in his mind. again he asked himself the question: "is this albert lemon, or was the dead man albert lemon?" after a long time the man on the couch opened his eyes and looked about the room. his glance rested for an instant on the figure in the chair at his side, but the fact of its being there did not appear to surprise him in the least. "jap!" he called faintly. there was a sound at the door, but it was still locked, and the servant was unable to obey the summons. "bring me a pipe!" were the next words. the jap clamored at the door, but did not gain admission. the racket seemed to disturb the man not at all. "i think," ned said, "that you have had all the dope you need to-night. besides, i want you to answer a few questions." "perhaps i have," the man said, "but, supposing that to be the case, where do you come in? you are a new one on me, and i hope you won't flop out of a window or go up through the roof, as some of the others have done. i want to have congenial company to-night. who are you?" "ned nestor," was the quiet reply. "so," said the man on the couch. "i've heard of you--read about you and the canal zone in the newspapers. but you're only a kid. what about that?" "i can't help being young," laughed ned. "anyway, that is a fault i'll soon get over. we all have it at first." "and get over it too quickly," said the other, with a sigh. "well, what do you want here?" "are you albert lemon?" asked ned abruptly. "yes," was the reply, "i'm albert lemon. what about it?" the man was gaining mental strength every moment now, and seemed to sense the strange situation. "stiles is your tailor?" the boy went on. "look here," said the other, rising to a sitting position and passing a shaking hand across his brow, as if to brush away the fancies of the poppy, "when you convince me that you have a laudable interest in my personal affairs i'll be glad to answer your questions." ned took the strip of tape from his pocket and held it out to the man on the couch. "do you recognize that?" he asked. lemon nodded coolly, but a look of wonder and alarm was growing in his bloodshot eyes, and his jaw dropped a trifle. "i still lack the proof of laudable interest," he said, with a twisting of the face intended for a smile. "answer the question," ned replied, "and i'll inform you of my interest in this article--and in you." "yes, i recognize it as the private mark of stiles, my tailor," lemon answered, in a moment. "where did you get it? if you insist on asking personal questions i must insist on the right to do the same thing." "i cut this private mark," ned said, "from the collar of a coat found on the back of a dead man in montana, somewhere near the main divide of the rocky mountains. do you know how it came there?" "yes and no," was the reply. "kindly answer the affirmative proposition first," ned said, with a smile. "well," said the other, "about three months ago an old college friend of mine, one felix emory, came to me from boston. he was in bad with his people, and was out of money. i took him in here and tried to brace him up. i couldn't do it. his moral stamina was gone." lemon paused a moment, and, with a deprecatory smile, pointed to an opium pipe which lay on the rug near the couch. "i understand," ned said. "i fed him, and clothed him, and introduced him at the club, and gave him every chance in the world to get a brace, but he fought me off. all he cared for was a pipe and a pill and a place to sleep it off." "and so you gave him up as a bad proposition?" asked ned. "not exactly. he wanted to go to the mountains on a hunting trip. well, i thought it would benefit his health, so i rigged up an outfit for his use and let him go. you say the man was dead?" "quite dead," ned replied. "too much poppy, i presume?" lemon asked with an ashamed smile. "too much steel," ned answered, sharply. lemon stared at the boy for an instant, his eyes more anxious than ever, and arose shakingly to his feet. "do you mean that he was murdered?" he asked. ned nodded. "where?" was the next question. "i found the body in a cavern on the western slope of the rockies," was the reply. "he had been dead only a few hours." albert lemon maintained a thoughtful silence for a time, during which ned eyed his changing expression keenly. "and what do you wish me to do about it?" he then asked. "a crime has been committed," ned replied, "and it seems to me that you ought to do all in your power to assist in bringing the criminal to punishment." "granted, sir. tell me what to do." "first, tell me about the men your friend went away with." "that brings me to the negative proposition," the other answered. "i have told you how felix came by my coat, but i can't tell you whether the man the coat was found on was felix. you must see that for yourself. he might have given the garment away, or he might have sold it in the city to get money for opium. in short, the coat might have been on the body of a man i never saw." "then you can't tell me who emory went away with?" asked ned. "certainly not," was the reply. "i don't know whether he went away at all or not." this was disappointing, but ned had one more lever with which the man's indifference might be lifted, he thought. before speaking again lemon arose and turned the key in the lock of the door, against which the servant was still pounding. the jap entered and stood by the door, looking intently at ned. "when you gave him the suit of clothes he went away in," the boy went on, shifting his position so that both men would be under his eyes, "what articles, if any, remained in the pockets?" "not a thing," was the reply. "i looked out for that." "then anything discovered in the pockets of the dead man," ned said, taking the key from his pocket and toying carelessly with it, "must have belonged to him?" ned saw lemon give a quick start at sight of the key. the jap advanced a step as if to get a closer view of it. then both men turned their eyes for an instant to the broken lock of the writing desk. ned had gained his point. the men recognized the key. "where is the body you speak of?" lemon asked, presently. "buried near the cavern in the mountains," was the reply. "perhaps you can give me a description of the body," lemon said. "i might be able to say, then, whether the man was felix." "look in the mirror," ned replied, "and you will see there a fairly good representation of the dead man. about the same in height, in size, and, yes, in feature." "then it must have been felix," the other said. "his remarkable resemblance to myself has often been remarked. poor fellow! i'm sorry that his end should come in so ghastly a form." there was a short silence, during which lemon's eyes flitted from the key in ned's fingers to the writing desk. "i said a moment ago," he observed then, "that i searched the pockets of the clothes before i gave them to him, or words to that effect. i remember now that i ordered jap to do it. did you obey orders?" he asked, turning to the servant. ned saw the jap give a quick start, then regain control of himself. lemon, too, looked crestfallen for a moment, then addressed the jap in another tongue. "i was talking in english," he said, "and forgot for the moment that he would not understand me." there followed a short conversation between the two, and then lemon announced that the jap had forgotten to look in the pockets of the clothes. ned ignored the explanation and put the key in his pocket. he knew now that the jap could understand english, and also that the key belonged to albert lemon, alive or dead. [illustration: illustration no. ] lemon arose and, going to a table, secured a tobacco pouch and a book of cigaret papers. as he rolled a cigaret ned observed that the middle finger of his left hand carried, just below the nail, a blue spot, as if he had been using a typewriter since cleaning his hands. ned noticed it particularly, as he himself used a double keyboard machine and usually smutted that finger on the ribbon when he rolled the platen. "well," lemon said, "i'll have to ask you to excuse me now. i've been off on a long country tramp. you see how mussed up i am. i think i crawled through briar patches and wire fences and fell into cow ponds." ned turned away without a word, with plenty of food for thought in his mind. chapter viii.--fate of the steak a la brigand. jimmie lay stretched at full length under one of the discolored shelter tents in a little cup in the heart of the rocky mountains. frank and pat and jack were moving restlessly about, looking up at the blue sky expectantly. ned had not returned from his trip to san francisco, and the boys were anxious as to his safety. "he should have taken me with him," jimmie drawled, presently, when frank threw himself down by the tent. "then he'd have been all right." "it is a wonder that he got along in the world at all before he fell under your protecting care," frank replied, with a grin. "oh, he managed in some way," jimmie answered, "but he never got up in the world until he took me into partnership," with a wink at his chum. "he's been up in the world since then, all right," frank said, suggestively. "too high up," jimmie grinned. "too high up for me, anyway. i thought i'd die up there, on the night of the fire." "in all the history of air navigation," frank observed, soberly, "there was never a trip like that. when i think of the quick start, and the wind and the rain, the whole thing seems like a dream. how did he ever do it?" "i don't know," jimmie replied. "he boosted me into the seat, and the next i knew we were off, an' the fire was dropping away from us, an' the mountains were growing smaller, an' the peaks looked like warts on the world. i felt like i was fallin' over the edge of somethin'." "and the wind?" questioned frank. "didn't it take your breath away?" "wind, nothin'," the boy said, scornfully. "there wasn't any wind where we were. we went along with it. it was like sailin' on a swift stream. ned tuned the engine up to keep steerway, an' shut his teeth. then, in half a minute, we were above the clouds, an' the moon an' stars were askin' what we were doin' up there." "you're saying it well," pat said, joining the little group. "if you were going so merrily before the wind, why did he want steerway?" "you don't know much about the atmosphere," laughed frank, answering for jimmie. "if you did, you'd know that the air blanket of the earth is a good deal like a river. it has eddies, and currents, and ripples, and holes, too." "you're good, too!" exclaimed pat. "holes in the air is about the best i ever heard!" "of course there are holes in the air," frank replied, with the air of one imparting valuable information, "especially when there are fires beneath. and, let me tell you this, you old red-head," he added, with an exasperating grin, "when the air, driven swiftly by the wind, or what we call the wind, comes to mountain peaks, and tall trees, and sky-scrapers, it just backs up, just the same as water does when it comes to a dam, or any obstruction." "go it!" pat cried. "make it a good one! where does this air go when it backs up?" "it just hunches up," frank replied, gravely, "and checks the flow back of it, and then eddies and swirls away, fit to twist an aeroplane into kindling wood." "of course," broke in jimmie. "i've often read of aeroplanes dropping a thousand feet into holes in the air, and of their being swept against tall trees and buildings by eddies. it takes a cool head to run an air machine in a storm of wind, and that is where ned won out." "if he hadn't kept the aeroplane going with the wind at full speed," frank added, "he would have been in a wreck the first half mile." "the more i learn about the atmosphere," pat said, "the less i like it. when you get me up in an aeroplane, just send word to the folks that i'm tired of life." "ned ought to have a carnegie medal for what he did that night," jack remarked, "and i'm going to speak to father about it when i get home." "there is no doubt that he ought to have one," frank said, "but the men who really deserve carnegie medals never get them." "you're an anarchist!" roared pat. "all right," was the sober reply, "but if i had the giving out of the medals i'd present them to men who work twelve hours a day and provide for families of eight on nine dollars a week--the men who never get rested, and who never have enough to eat. they are the ones who ought to have the medals." "most of them would sell the medals," jack said, cynically. "well," frank replied, "i shouldn't blame them if they did. i'd rather have a porterhouse steak in the interior than a piece of bronze on the outside." "don't talk about porterhouse steak!" pleaded jimmie. "hungry, little man?" asked pat. "hungry! i'm like one of the men frank has been telling about. i never get rested, never have enough to eat." the boys fell upon jimmie and rolled him out of the tent. "you get busy with fuel," pat said, after they had given him plenty of "movements," "and i'll cook a steak à la brigand." "we ain't got no steak," complained jimmie. "we've got potatoes, and bacon, and onions," pat said, "and canned beefsteak. you just watch me. i used to cook steak à la brigand in the philippines." "get busy, then," jimmie said, "and jack will help get the green wood." "if you bring green wood here for me to cook with, i'll roast you over it," pat said. "you get a lot of good dry wood that will make coals, and i'll show you how to broil a steak à la brigand." "why do you call it a brigand steak?" asked jimmie. "because it takes a red-headed brigand to cook it," suggested jack, dodging out of pat's reach. "never you mind the name," pat replied. "get the dry wood and i'll broil a steak that will melt in the mouth." "that old canned stuff?" asked frank. "get the wood," ordered pat, "and i'll show you." there were a few dead trees--the sole reminders of a former forest fire in that green valley--close at hand, and the wood was soon gathered and placed in a great pile near two rocks which pat had rolled to within a yard of each other. "here!" jack called out, as pat transferred the whole supply to the space between the stones, "there's enough fuel there for a week's cooking. quit it!" "my son," pat replied, with a provoking air of patronage, "what you don't know about broiling a steak à la brigand would make a congressional library." while the wood was burning down to coals, pat cut a green slip about an inch in diameter at the bottom and peeled and smoothed it nicely. "is that to be used to enforce the eating of the steak?" asked frank, winking at the others. "to keep you from gorging yourselves," pat replied, going on with his work. in a short time he had the potatoes cut into half-inch slices. jack had peeled them and, following directions with many grins, had also cut a round hole an inch in size in the middle of each slice. "he's going to wear 'em around his neck, like beads," jimmie suggested, looking carefully over the heaped-up dish. the bacon was now sliced thin, as were the onions, and in the center of each slice a round hole was made. then pat opened a couple of tins of beefsteak--so called by the packers--and cut a hole in the middle of each slice. then he strung a slice of potato on the spit, then a slice of bacon, then a slice of onion, then a slice of beef, until there was nearly a yard of provisions. "i begin to feel hungrier than ever!" jimmie was dancing around the fire as pat turned the spit. there were only coals now, and pat kept the toothsome collection turning slowly, so as to broil without scorching. the smell of the cooking bacon and onions set the boys to getting out the tin plates and making the coffee. the sun, which had been shining fiercely all day, now seemed to be working his way through a mist. the atmosphere appeared to be tinted with the yellow haze one sees in the northern states in autumn. as the boys were keeping watch for ned and the aeroplane, they noticed the change in atmospheric conditions, but attributed it to the rising vapor brought out by the heat of the sun. "say," jimmie said, presently, "i smell smoke. i wonder if there's goin' to be another forest blaze here?" "of course you smell smoke," jack said, watching the broiling supper. "we're cooking a steak à la brigand, ain't we?" "smells like burnin' leaves," jimmie insisted. "more like onions," pat observed. the boys crouched about the fire for some moments longer and then jimmie arose and began to climb the wall of the cup to the west. "i'm goin' to see about this," he said. frank laid a hand on his arm. "you wait a minute," he said. "you can't climb that slope in less than half an hour, and ned will be here before that. look! he's coming now, like the wind!" the aeroplane, high up in the hazy sky, was indeed making good progress toward the little cup in the mountain side. while the boys looked they saw it shift away to the west, whirl back to the east, dart off to the north and back again. "he's huntin' for us," jimmie said. "he's investigating!" frank cut in. "investigating what?" pat demanded. "he's smelling of this steak à la brigand and is hunting for it. let be. he'll find us." the sky was growing more uncertain every minute, and puffs of smoke were seen out in the west, over the rim of the cup. "the world is on fire, i tell you!" jimmie cried, presently. "that's what ned is shiftin' about for. if the blaze wasn't high up on the mountains we couldn't see the columns of smoke over the rim of the valley." "well," pat observed, "the fire can't get in here. nothing to burn." "it can fill the cup with hot air and scorch us to death," frank said, uneasily. "i think we'd better be looking about for a place to crawl into." "wait until ned comes," jimmie suggested. "he'll know what to do." the aeroplane acted badly in the currents caused by the burning forest, but ned finally managed to bring it down in the valley. the boys gathered about him, all excitement, and the steak à la brigand was for the moment forgotten in the joy at the return of the patrol leader and the anxiety to learn something of conditions out in the woods. "it's going to be a great conflagration," ned said, "but i think the aeroplane will be safe here. the whole slope is on fire." "i wouldn't take chances on leaving it here," frank advised. "i'd jump over the divide with it." "i have been in the air three hours now," ned replied, "and must have a rest. besides, we must remain where we can, if necessary, help head off the flames. that is what we are here for, remember." "not to fight fires," corrected frank, "but to find out who sets them." "anyhow," ned replied, "we must fight the fire, if it gives us a chance, now that we are here. now, what do you think that is?" he added, as a chorus of howls and cries came up from the slope on the west. "sounds like a country circus!" jimmie laughed. "that is just what it is!" ned exclaimed. "here! help me roll the aeroplane into that nook, where it won't be trampled into splinters. now you boys get behind it, and i'll get in front. whatever you see or hear, don't shoot unless you are actually attacked." the boys obeyed the commands without a word of comment, well knowing what was coming next. a breeze was sliding up the slope, bringing with it flying masses of smoke. presently birds began to stagger through the heavy atmosphere, flying low, almost within reaching distance, as they had fled long before the mounting flames and were exhausted. "i wish this would let up a moment," pat said, "long enough for us to reach that steak à la brigand. it must be about done by this time." "i'll go an' get it," volunteered jimmie. "an' eat most of it on the way back." "then bring the coffee," cried jack. "why can't we all go out there and eat?" asked frank. the boys were about starting with a rush when ned caught two of them by the arm and stopped the others by a quick call. through the smoke and the hot air on the rim of the cup, a great head, a head neither white nor black, but grizzly, was seen. then a deer bounded over and crouched down in the valley. next two mountain lions raced over the lip of the valley and halted growling, within a few yards of the boys. "there goes our steak à la brigand!" jimmie cried, as the rush of frightened animals showed under the smoke. "i'll eat one of them deer to pay for this," he added. "you'll be lucky if one of these wild animals doesn't eat you," jack said. "how would you like to be back in little old washington square just now?" "forget it!" was the boy's only reply. "will the fire get here?" frank asked of ned, as the wild creatures of the forest poured into the valley, regardless of the presence of the boys, unmindful of the proximity of each other. "i don't think the flames will come into the cup," ned replied, "but if the smoke settles here we shall have a hot time of it." "huh!" jimmie cried. "the whole valley is full of mountain lions, an' bears, an' deer, an' snakes, an' rabbits. there ain't no room for any smoke!" then the smoke rolled away for an instant, showing a sun as red as a piece of molten iron; showing, too, a huddle of forest animals crowding together in the center of the valley. in their terror of the fire they had forgotten to be afraid of mankind--of each other! chapter ix.--the chaos of a burning world. that was a day long to be remembered in the great northwest. it is true that the destruction of life and property at that time by no means equaled the ruin wrought by the forest fires of august, , but the conflagration was serious in its final results for all that. in august of the previous year half a hundred persons lost their lives in the fierce fires which swept over portions of idaho and montana, and more than six billion feet of lumber were destroyed. at that time wild animals raced into the log houses of settlers in order to escape the flames. in one instance, placed on record by a forester, a mountain lion actually sought shelter under a bed. in that case, too, the fire virtually held its ruthless way until it burned itself out, as there were no trails, no telephones, no provisions for the fire fighters. the men of the forest patrol were each guarding a hundred thousand acres. in the more civilized countries of europe, a thousand acres is considered a large district for one man. it was hot and close in the odd little valley on the mountain side. there seemed a premonition of greater danger in the very air--the lifeless air which seemed to dry the lungs beyond power of action. the wind, coming over the blazing forests, struck hot upon the face and scorched the lips, while the acrid smoke filled the eyes, the ears, the nostrils. it seemed to ned that everything east of the kootenai river must be on fire. now and then, drawn by some wayward current of air, the thick smoke lifted in the little cup-like valley, and the cowering wild animals could be seen, huddling together in the terror of the time, deer no longer afraid of lion or bear, lion and bear forgetting to mark their prey. finally, anxious to know the extent of the disaster, so far as it might be judged by a personal view of the country west of the valley, ned left the boys in charge of the aeroplane and crept toward the rim of the cup. jimmie saw him leaving and started on after him, but jack drew him back. "let him go alone, for once," jack said, "he's only going to find out where this menagerie of wild animals comes from." jimmie settled sullenly back by jack's side, resolved to break away at the first opportunity and follow the patrol leader. when ned gained the elevation he sought, the procession of wild animals had come to an end, although birds, frightened and singed by the flames, were calling from the sky. everywhere rolled billows of smoke, blown on ahead of the line of fire and in a measure concealing its fatal advance. now and then, however, a spurt of hot wind came over the burned waste and lifted the curtain for an instant. then the boy saw that the fire was crawling up the slope, not racing as it had earlier in the day, but moving steadily, sweeping the earth of the undergrowth, but leaving many large trees. the danger was decreasing there, but lower down the flames were consuming everything in their path, eating down great trees and leaving fiery, straggling columns to consume them to ashes. ned thanked his stars that the growths on the slope were not dense enough to foster such a blaze as that which burned below. it has been stated by those who know that ordinary care would have prevented most of the devastating forest fires which have raged in the northwest. experts claim that forests should be burned over under careful supervision, every three or four years. this, they say, will prevent the accumulation of inflammable material such as caused the terrible losses of august, . ned saw at once the expediency of the proposed remedy. he knew that resinous spines, steeped in the drippings of pitch and turp from the overhead branches, had lain many inches deep around the trunks of the trees, beneath fallen boles, and at the roots of the undergrowth. this accumulation made the extinguishing of forest fires impossible. he understood that the government had virtually provided for what followed by permitting this material to accumulate year after year. it is declared by foresters and others who strove to check that wall of fire that it advanced at the rate of a mile a minute between the kootenai river and the foothills. below where ned lay was a burning furnace. it was so hot that he dare not lift his face a second time, and so he moved back to the aeroplane, which he found still safe from the flames, and the wild creatures crouching in the center of the valley. "what are the prospects?" frank asked, speaking with his lips close to the ear of the patrol leader, for the roaring of the flames rendered ordinary conversation difficult. "there is safety here," ned replied, "but everything to the west seems to be burning." "gee!" jimmie cried, looking ned in the face, "how would you like to meet a friend with a basket of ice?" "ice wouldn't last long here," frank said. "not if i got hold of it!" jimmie grunted. as the line of fire came nearer to the top of the slope the air grew hotter, the smoke denser and more stifling. pat remembered that a pail of water from a spring had been brought to the vicinity of the aeroplane soon after ned landed, and the boys wet their handkerchiefs and bound them over their eyes and mouths. as the heat increased the wild creatures crowding together ominously. when a feeble beast was trampled by a stronger one, or when a rattler struck at the leg of a bear or deer, there was a cry of pain and a quick milling of the pack. "if this doesn't end soon," frank shouted to ned through his handkerchief, "there will be a stampede here. then it will be all off for us." ned looked around the little circle before replying. the boys certainly looked like "white caps" with their sheeted faces. "we'll have to wait and hope for the best," he said. "if the animals come this way, we must stop them, so far as we are able, with our guns and electric flashlights." presently night fell, and the wind quieted a little at the setting of the sun. in a short time the clouds rolled away in sullen, threatening groups, and the stars looked down on the forest tragedy. later, there would be moonlight. "i wonder if all the world is burned, except just this mountain?" jimmie asked, taking the handkerchief from his face and wiping the smoke out of his inflamed eyes. "it looks that way." "there seems to be enough left to hold a lot of heat," jack said. "i don't believe it will ever be cool again." "if we'd only saved that brigand steak!" wailed jimmie. with the half light and the cooler air there came a commotion in the mass of forest creatures in the center of the valley. it was night now, and they seemed to feel the mounting of their wild instincts to be up and away on the hunt. under the stars, one by one, they slunk away, bears and mountain lions turning sullenly toward the lesser beasts, but still too terrified by what they had passed through to feel the pangs of hunger. in half an hour the menagerie had vanished, some to the mountain, some over the slopes to the north and south. the boys drew long breaths of relief when the shambling figure of the last bear disappeared. once jack drew his gun on a fat old buck who seemed desirous of investigating the aeroplane, but ned saw the action and checked the slaughter. "let him alone," he said. "he's lived through this hell on earth, so give him one more chance." the boys now began gathering up their scattered utensils, restaking the tents, and preparing supper. jimmie proposed another brigand steak, but pat insisted that he never wanted to get near enough to a fire to cook again, so they made an indifferent meal of biscuit and tinned pork and beans, not even going to the trouble to boil coffee. while they were eating a gunshot came from the east, followed by the challenge of a chanticleer. "what do you know about that?" demanded jimmie. "i suppose," jack complained, "that we've been eating a picked-up supper within a few rods of a farmhouse, or cattle ranch!" "you might pry open some of the rocks back there," pat observed, with sarcasm, "and see if you can find the house you speak of. it was a human throat that crow came from." "sure it was!" cried jimmie. "it was a boy scout call. now just see me get him to talking." "what's a rooster patrol chap doing here!" asked jack. "i guess we are all having bad dreams." jimmie did not reply. instead he put his hands to his throat and in a second a long snarling wolf cry came forth, rising into a shrill call, as if summoning a pack at a distance. "we'll see what he knows about that," the boy said. as they listened the challenge of the chanticleer came once more. this time jack answered it with the growl of a black bear, which seemed to frank to be a great improvement on his practice stunts in the black bear patrol club rooms in new york. this odd exchange of greetings kept up for some moments, and then the figure of a boy of perhaps seventeen was seen in the uncertain light, making slow progress down the mountain, a short distance to the north. he carried a haversack on his shoulders and was dressed in the khaki uniform of the boy scouts of america. "he must be used to mountain work," jack remarked, as the boy leaped lightly from ledge to ledge and finally dropped into the valley. "i couldn't do that, even in broad daylight, to save my life!" the stranger now advanced to the group of boys and gave them the half salute of the boy scouts, standing with right arm straight out from the shoulder, palm outward, three fingers standing vertical, the thumb crossing the palm to rest on the bent-in little finger. ned replied with the full salute, which is made with the hand in the same attitude, only at the forehead. "what does the badge say?" demanded jimmie. "be prepared!" was the quick reply. "for what?" was the next question. "to assist those in distress." "you're all right," jimmie shouted. "what patrol?" "chanticleer, denver," was the reply. "that accounts for the way you lighted down from the mountain," laughed ned. "i've got used to climbing in walking the streets of my home town," smiled the other. "is ned nestor here?" he added. "my name is ernest whipple; i'm looking for mr. ned nestor." "here he is, the only good-looker in the bunch," jack laughed, pushing ned forward. "what do you want of him?" "my father is connected with the secret service at washington," was the reply, "and he posted me as to what was going on here. said i might come out and join the party, if mr. nestor would permit it. what do you say?" of course the son of a man connected with the secret service at washington--a man who undoubtedly knew all the plans of the men who had sent ned into the northwest--was not to be ignored, but at the same time ernest would have been received into the party on the strength of his own engaging personality, his own frank manner. from the very first moment he was a favorite with all the boys. "you're as welcome as the flowers of may!" frank cried. "been to supper?" "last night!" grinned ernest. "my haversack is empty--also my stomach. i had to take to the mountain in order to keep out of the fire, and couldn't connect with a grub stake." "then there are fires east of the divide?" asked ned. "sure," was the reply, "although they are nothing like the ones over here. the foresters are watching them, and there is little danger of their getting a big start." "where did you find foresters?" asked ned, wondering if the men who had sneaked away from the cavern were not posing as foresters waiting to do further mischief. "they are in camp beyond the summit," was the reply. "they told me they had patrols all through the lower levels." jack gave a description of the man who had visited the camp on the plateau, and was not at all surprised when ernest identified the fellow as the apparent leader of the band of foresters he had passed on his way west. "i see that you don't believe the men are foresters," ernest said, looking into ned's anxious face. "well, to tell the truth, i doubt it myself. i heard some talk there that set me thinking, after i got away. there was a man there who had just arrived from san francisco, they said, and he was doing a good deal of kicking about something that had been done, or hadn't been done. i don't know which." "can you describe the fellow?" asked ned, a quick suspicion coming to his mind. "of course i can," was the reply, and the remainder of the answer gave an accurate word photograph of one albert lemon. ned was thinking fast. how had lemon reached the eastern side of the divide so quickly. he, himself, had traveled swiftly from san francisco, leaving soon after his exit from the bachelor apartment where the strange and not entirely satisfactory interview had taken place. he had left the man who claimed to be albert lemon half dazed and weakened from the effects of opium--still weary from a long and exhausting journey, as shown by his clothing, and yet the fellow had beaten him out in the race to the mountains. why? certainly not to take charge of the body of his unfortunate friend, for the grave was not there, but in a little hollow away to the north and near the lake. his business seemed to lie with the outlaws who had, apparently, committed the crime. why? had the man been killed as the result of a conspiracy between the two interests? this point was worth looking into, for the motive for the deed might also prove to be the motive for other crimes--among them the burning of forests. chapter x.--chasing the milky way. while the boys were exchanging experiences with ernest whipple, talking over boy scout matters and arranging for a sleeping place for the stranger, ned was busy with his aeroplane. it had not suffered in the least from the heat and wind, and there was plenty of gasoline on hand for a journey which he was thinking of taking. "where are we goin' to-night?" jimmie asked, finally, strolling over to the spot where the great bird lay. "as the wind is right," ned laughed, "i thought i'd take a sail over the divide and see what the alleged foresters are up to." "all right," the boy said, "just wait until i get a big blanket to wrap up in and i'll go with you." ned smiled at the determination of the lad to keep close to his side. he knew that jimmie dreaded the very idea of leaving the solid earth that night, still he found him willing to make the ascent merely for the sake of being in his company. "all right, kid," he said. "you may go if you want to, but it may be morning before we get back to camp." "you can't remain in the air all that time," jimmie said. "i am fully aware of that," ned replied, "but i can drop down over on the other side and rest and tinker with the machine--if she doesn't work just right." "you haven't got gasoline enough," urged jimmie, who would have argued ned out of the notion of the night flight if possible, but who was determined to go with him if he went. "the first thing i do," ned replied, "will be to fly over the great northern right of way and fill up with gasoline. besides filling the tanks, i shall carry a lot away in an aluminum keg i have provided for that purpose." "well," jimmie said, with a tired sigh, "i should think you'd been through enough to-day and to-night, without goin' off in the dark, but i'm goin' if you do." after talking with the others regarding his intentions, and warning them to keep a sharp lookout during his absence, ned assisted jimmie to his seat and the two were away. there was scant room for a rise between the spot where the machine lay and the foot of the range, but ned had little difficulty in getting into the sky and swinging along in the breeze. it was now after ten o'clock, and the moon was high in the heavens. to the east the dark passes of the mountains showed green and misty in the moonlight. to the west the burned spaces looked dark and forbidding, with smoke half hiding the ruin that had been wrought. jimmie clung to the machine and insisted that ned was chasing the milky way when he lifted the aeroplane up the level of the divide. before crossing the divide, however, ned flew to the great northern right of way and filled his tanks with gasoline, also filling the extra keg. the machine, which was an improved wright, was then turned to the north-east. so perfect have aeroplanes now become that even inexperienced drivers may sometimes venture into the air with them with impunity, still it is well known that it is more the man than the machine that decides whether there shall be a tumble or a successful flight. the aeroplane is a wonderful invention, yet the point which really makes it so serviceable is a very simple one. for years inventors studied ways of making a heavier-than-air machine sail through the sky like a bird. then the gasoline engine came, and all the rest seemed easy. but no one could keep control of the aeroplane. it moved about according to its own whims, and tipped drivers out at its own sweet will. then the wrights thought of lifting and lowering the planes to represent the wings and feathers of a bird. the secret had been found and required only experience and practice. here was a machine light enough to fly, yet strong enough to carry with safety its powerful engine and two or more passengers, if there is room provided for them. it is so stout that a man may walk over it while it lies on the ground, and yet so delicate in control when in the air that a slight pull on a lever will dip one wing, lift the other, and at the same time turn a vertical tail-rudder about to give the necessary balancing pull with almost the instinctive adaptability of a bird's wings and feathers. and this wonderful machine, while speeding through the air with the velocity of an express train, can be halted almost instantly and whirled about on its tail. it will be seen that it is the man at the levers who makes or breaks a journey in the air. one man may do almost anything with a machine, while another may send himself to eternity with the same one. it was ned's good fortune that he was naturally ingenious and quick to make his hands follow the impulses of his brain. when a person is thundering through the air, a thousand feet above the earth, he must remain perfectly calm, even with the engine thundering behind his ears, tears running in streams down his face, and the wind fluttering his clothes into rags and ravelings, as he wishes he was back on land. besides, there are no level plains in the air, as there are on earth. every bird-man knows that he is liable to come up against a fierce current or tumble into a hole in the atmosphere at any moment. while traveling in water one can see what is ahead and on both sides, but this is not so in the air. the currents, swirls, eddies, holes, do not show at all. when ned left the caché where the gasoline and provisions had been hidden away, he put on half speed, swinging steadily skyward on a broad spiral. his purpose was to pass over the summit and have a look at the forests on the east side. the passenger's seat in the wright machine is in the middle. the engine is at his right and the driver at his left, so that the balance is the same whether an extra person is carried or not. jimmie was glad of this, for it placed him close to ned. in that half light, with the earth far below, with the pounding of the engine and the whistling of the wind, the boy felt the need of close human companionship. he sat in a wooden seat with his back against the rest, holding to one of the uprights with both hands, and resting his tingling feet on a cross-bar. a guy-wire passed across in front, close to his chest, so he was now fastened in. he wanted to talk with ned, to hear the sound of his voice, but the clamor of the engine prevented that, so he just sat still and looked down on the flying forest below. it seemed to him, at least, that the forest was moving, while he was standing still in the starlight. up the aeroplane went, and still higher up. jimmie saw the great divide below, and saw little red specks in the forests of the eastern slope which denoted forest fires not yet grown to maturity. after passing the summit ned saw the campfire of the men ernest had spoken of. he passed them, swung around a circle lower down, selected a spot where he thought he could land with safety, and dropped down. jimmie declared afterwards that he felt as if he had been thrown out of the window of a twenty-story building--and the highest window at that. when the aeroplane came into the shadows of the high trees where the landing was being made he knew that a wind was blowing at the surface and feared that the machine would be carried along on the ground and dumped over into a cañon. the machine sank gracefully into a glade rather high up on the slope, and the boys alighted to stretch their legs. ned's first move was to see if there was plenty of room for him to get out. what he found was an incline to the east, an incline ending at a great cañon, into which he would have been hurled had the aeroplane run fifty feet farther on the ground. "i think i can make it," he said, "but it is risky. it wouldn't be nice to take a header a thousand feet down." after the inspection of the locality ned extinguished all the lights and sat down to map out his plans for the remainder of the night. there were the usual noises of the forest, as found at night, but no human sounds intruded. ned knew that the clamor of the engine must have been heard by the men in the camp he had flown over, and he had no doubt that the outlaws would make a quick excursion to his landing place, if they could determine where it was. so he put out the lights and listened for some indication of the approach of the others. "they won't find us in a thousand years," jimmie volunteered, as the two sat close together under a great tree. "i hope not," ned replied, "for then we shall have a better chance to find them." "what do you want to find 'em for?" questioned the boy. "you can't pinch 'em, 'cause you haven't got the proof, an' you couldn't if you had the proof, 'cause there ain't enough of us. they'd eat us up like spinach." "you are right as far as you have gone," ned replied, "but you have not gone far enough. what i want now is to find out what they are doing here. and, also, i want to find out about that fellow from san francisco. if the description is any good, he was in the city when i left it, and i don't see how he ever got here so soon. i came part way on an aeroplane, but it seems that he traveled farther and beat me out." "what's he got to do with it?" asked jimmie. "what did you find out in the city? you won't have no luck if you don't tell me all about it." so, while they waited, ned told him "all about it," while the boy sat in the dusk with his eyes and mouth both opened wide at the mystery of the thing. "i don't believe albert lemon ever got out here so soon," the lad said, when the story was told. "he couldn't." "then who is the man from san francisco?" asked ned. "it can't be the dead man?" questioned jimmie. "you saw him buried," ned answered. "then i give it up!" jimmie said. the two sat there in silence a long time, then jimmie gave ned's arm a pull and pointed to a flickering light in the forest just above the glade where the aeroplane rested. "they think you've landed somewhere here," the boy said, "an' have set fire to the woods." "i think you have guessed it," ned said. "however, the blaze won't run very fast up there, for the undergrowth is scanty, so we've got plenty of time to get out of the way." jimmie scrambled up the slope, clinging to rocks and roots with both fingers and feet, and ran toward the blaze. ned watched the little fellow dashing along with no little anxiety, for the outlaws might be there in the thickets, watching for some attempt to be made to lift the aeroplane. he saw jimmie recklessly climb to the top of a great rock which jutted out from the side of the mountain and saw his figure outlined against the growing blaze on the slope above. then the fire died down, as if for want of material, and the top of the rock could no longer be seen. ned listened, but jimmie did not return. the effort to create a general conflagration on the mountain side had evidently failed, for there was little to burn save the green boles of trees, that section having been swept by fire a year before. not daring to leave the aeroplane for even an instant, ned awaited the return of the boy with premonitions of trouble in his mind. presently he heard a shot, then a cry, and after that a brutal laugh. the outlaws were nearer than he thought. there was only one thing for ned to do, and that was to get the aeroplane into the sky immediately, and so once more place it beyond the reach of the outlaws. there was nothing he could do to aid jimmie, he reflected, sadly, by remaining there. it was no task at all to start the rollers down the incline, but the cañon threatened if he did not get it off the ground in quick time. he knocked the stones out from under the wheels and sprang into his seat. the machine, gaining momentum, moved on sedately. it had acquired a fair rate of speed when he came within a few feet of the cañon. then, after letting it get all the headway possible in that confined space without coming too close to the cañon, ned pulled the lever which tilted the front rudder planes. trifling as the deflection was the man-made bird felt its influence and rose from the slope as if endowed with life. it reached the edge of the descent some distance in the air, and the boy was congratulating himself on the success of his unaided rise when the big machine began to sag as if dropping to the ground, five hundred feet below. the west wall of the cañon ran straight down, and it seemed to ned that he was following it, like an iron spike thrown off the ledge. he knew very well what had occurred. he had fallen into one of the down-tipping currents so frequent in mountain districts. the air, he knew, was sliding down the precipice just as water tumbles over a dam. if it turned, as it might, when it struck the lower strata of air, he might secure control of his machine and manage to lift it out of the cañon. if it did not, he would doubtless fall to the rocky floor of the cañon, and lie there until some chance hunter or forester came upon a heap of bleaching bones and the wreck of an aeroplane. but even at that swift pace downward, and at that exciting moment, ned found himself puzzling over the strange sight he saw in a break in the wall of the cañon. it was a large opening he looked into, and strange figures were gathered about a cooking fire. chapter xi.--the luck of a bowery boy. jimmie opened his eyes and looked about. it was a gloomy niche in a perpendicular wall that he looked out of. rock to right and left and rear. in front a velvet summer sky, with stars winking over a vast stretch of broken country. there was a ledge a foot in width outside the entrance to the niche, but the boy could not see how long it was, or where it led to. his head ached and there was a drawing sensation to the skin of his forehead and right cheek, as if some sticky substance had congealed there. when he reached a hand up to see what the trouble was he found that his head was tied up in a cloth. there was no one in sight to ask questions of, so he arose to a sitting position and leaned forward. the action brought on a whirl of dizziness, and he dropped back against the wall for support. he knew then that he had received a hard blow on the head, and that he had lost considerable blood. once before in his life he had felt that dizzy weakness, and that was after an artery had been cut in his leg and he had nearly bled to death before reaching a hospital. when he lay back trying to get something like a balance in his brain, he saw that it was near midnight. he knew that by the stars, for he had watched them many a hot night, lying on his back on a dray backed up some alley down near the east river, in new york. there were certain stars which always occupied just such a position at midnight in new york. he did not know their names, but he knew that at midnight in montana they would not be so far advanced across the sky. therefore he looked for the stars as they appeared at nine o'clock on the atlantic. when he found them he knew from their location that it had been something over an hour since he had left ned and the aeroplane. the three hours difference in time between new york and montana--three hours in round numbers--would make the midnight stars three hours late, of course. anyway, the boy was pretty certain of the time. then his mind went back to ned and the aeroplane, and the cañon in front of the landing place. he recalled the stop, and remembered leaving ned to see what was doing in the way of forest fires. he remembered, too, getting up on a high rock to look over at the creeping flames. but strange to say he did not remember getting down again. the next thing on the record of his mind was that niche in the wall and the stars shining down out of a summer sky, the same stars he had looked at in old new york. of course he had been struck the blow he had received while mounting the rock, otherwise he would know something of the attack. his mind did not have to travel along the records of the past very far to convince him that he had made a mistake in leaving ned. of course he had been "geezled" by the outlaws, as he expressed it, and of course the boys would delay the business they were on in order to look him up--which, he reluctantly admitted to himself, would be a waste of time, as any boy capable of doing such foolish stunts certainly was not worth the trouble of looking up. presently the pain in his head became less violent and the dizziness in a measure passed away. then he pushed out to the edge of the ledge and sat with his feet hanging over. it was a straight drop down. below he could see a stream of water running along the bottom of the cañon. out, perhaps two hundred yards from his resting place, he saw a slope half covered with trees. he looked down into the gulf in the hope of seeing the aeroplane, but it was not in sight. ned must have taken it away. or he might have been overpowered and the machine broken up. of course the outlaws would break up the machine if they secured possession of it. they would not dare use it in that region, and it was about as handy a thing to ship away secretly as a white elephant. there were no lights in sight anywhere, save a slight glow of coals away down at the bottom of the cañon. that might be the remains of the aeroplane, or it might be a bit of forest fire which had not burned itself out. very much disgusted with himself, the boy leaned farther out wondering if there wasn't a ledge which wound its way to the bottom of the cañon, or to the summit above. so intently was he studying on this proposition that he did not hear footsteps approaching, nor did he realize that there was any human being near him until he felt a hand laid lightly on his shoulder. "be careful, young man," the voice said, "or you'll get another tumble. how do you feel by this time?" "fine!" cried the boy, turning a pair of astonished eyes toward the south, where a bulky personage stood blocking the ledge to the extent of obscuration. "well, don't take any more chances, then," said the bulky person, and jimmie was forced, not ungently, back into the niche. the man entered after the boy and threw himself down on the stone floor of the cut in the wall of the cañon. he was short and stout, with a double chin and a pointed forehead which gave his face the appearance of being engraved on a lemon. he was quite bald, and his hair, that which remained, was turning gray. his eyes were steel blue, and his mouth one long, thin-lipped slit between fat cheeks. jimmie did not like his looks at all, and he resented the patronizing voice and manner. so he leaned sullenly against the wall and waited for the other to open the conversation. he had not long to wait, for the man was busy in a moment. "how did you get that fall?" he asked. so, jimmie thought, they were going to claim that he had a fall, and that they had found him, and cared for him gently, and were now ready to do anything in the world for his comfort. the boy decided that the correct course for him to pursue was to follow the lead of the other. "guess i slipped off a rock," he said, knowing very well that he had been knocked off his feet so suddenly that he had instantly lost consciousness. "what were you doing there?" was the next question. "why, i had been out in the aeroplane, and i got out to see if the forest fire i saw was going to be anything serious, and then i tumbled." "where is the boy who was with you in the aeroplane?" asked the other. jimmie replied that he had no idea, which was, of course, the answer expected of him. his questioner remained silent a moment, looking out over the rugged land to the east. when he spoke again it was to ask: "what are you doing in the rocky mountains?" jimmie thought that was a cheeky question, and a useless one, for he had no doubt that the fellow knew nearly as much about his business as he did about his own. "we're on a vacation," he replied. "five of us have a camp over on the other side of the divide. we're just playing prospectors." "very nice vacation for you all," the other said, "but you ought to be more careful with your fires. you started a large conflagration yesterday." so the boy scouts were to be accused of that! jimmie wished at that moment that the other boys were there. he wanted to tell this fat hypocrite what he thought of him and stand a fair show in the fracas which might follow. "i don't think we set any fires," he said. "the fires started a long way from our camp." "i know what i'm talking about," the other said. jimmie did not reply. he was wondering what would be the next move of the fat party, and whether ned or the boys left in camp would be out to look him up before the morning. "i am in charge of this district," the other went on. "i'm captain slocum of the forestry force." jimmie did not believe it, but did not say so. he only stared at the other in a manner which nettled his dignity. "i have been watching you boys ever since you have been here," captain slocum went on. "i didn't know what you were up to, and so i watched." "yes, sir," said jimmie, quite humbly, though angry enough to fight the man single-handed. "it seems that you have left forest fires wherever you have camped," slocum went on, with an all-knowing air. "to-night i sent a party of foresters over to the camp to arrest you all." "yes, sir," replied jimmie again, shutting his lips hard in order to prevent saying a great deal more. "do you think they will find this ned nestor there?" slocum asked, then. "i don't know whether he could get his machine back to the camp," jimmie replied. "well, wouldn't he go without it?" "no, sir; i don't think he would, unless it was certain that he could not take it with him." "we'll find him, anyway," slocum continued. "where are you goin' to take us for trial?" jimmie asked. "we'll have to consider that part of the matter later on," was the reply. "the first thing for us to do is to lock you up good and tight and stop the setting of forest fires." "yes, sir," replied jimmie, still humbly, but still thinking what he would do to this fat falsifier if he ever got a chance. "i'm glad you confess," slocum said. "i didn't," said jimmie. "why, yes, you did," insisted the other. "you admitted setting the fires." jimmie made no reply. far down in the cañon he saw a glint of flame. it was not a forest fire. it was not even the red light of a campfire or a lantern. the light was white, and the boy knew it for what it was--an electric searchlight, such as ned always carried on his aeroplane trips. slocum did not seem to see the light. his eyes were fixed on the face of the boy he was talking with, although the features did not show very distinctly in the dim light of the night. "well, to tell you the truth, we've already captured this ned nestor," slocum added, maliciously, jimmie thought, "and no doubt my men have also captured those at the camp. nestor broke a leg in trying to get away, but when he was fairly cornered he confessed everything." "yes, sir," answered jimmie. there was nothing else the boy could say without putting himself in the way of a beating. if he had expressed his opinion of this story no doubt he would have been given physical punishment for his frankness. "and so," slocum smiled, "you may as well continue the confession you began." jimmie recognized this as clumsy work in the third degree, but he did not say so. he was watching the light below. now it disappeared behind a great rock or tree. now it came out in the opening again and moved about in a circle. "ned is examining his 'plane, preparatory to going back to camp," the boy thought. "wonder if he's been all this time lookin' for me?" the boy paid little attention to what slocum said after this. most of the time he was looking into the sky, or anywhere rather than where his thoughts were fixed. he had no intention of directing the gaze of the alleged forester to what was going on in the cañon. directly he saw the flashlight flutter over the white planes then become stationary. ned, he knew, was getting ready to make a flight. he could imagine what the boy's feelings were, for he knew ned's affection for him. indeed, it was with a heavy heart that the patrol leader left the place without jimmie. "and there is also a suspicion that you boys are interested in getting opium over the border without settling with uncle sam," jimmie heard slocum saying, as he watched the aeroplane move forward, lift for a moment, and then drop down out of sight. he knew of the precipice just ahead of the machine, and trembled for fear that ned had not been able to lift the aeroplane, but had tumbled into the cañon with it. "anyway," slocum continued, "we shall place you under arrest for setting fire to the woods and also for smuggling." just at that moment jimmie was not at all interested in what slocum was saying to him. he took no interest whatever in any threat made by the fellow. he was watching the cañon for some sign of the reappearance of the aeroplane. after what seemed an eternity to the lad he saw the light again, this time higher up than before. it was lifting slowly, turning round and round in a spiral, and jimmie knew that there was no room to mount into the sky in a straight line. ned's control of the machine was wonderful, and it lifted gradually until it was above the line of the hills on the other side and shot away to the west. then slocum saw it. jimmie blamed himself for calling his attention to it by lifting his head to follow the flight across the sky. "there is another aeroplane," slocum said. jimmie could not restrain a laugh, which intruded oddly enough on the tense silence of the moment. "you don't think it is nestor, do you?" slocum asked. "yes, sir," replied jimmie, still humbly. "but he must have taken a drop down the cañon," urged slocum. "yes, sir," replied jimmie, "but you said you had captured him!" slocum eyed the boy with rage in his eyes. he knew very well that while he had been telling of ned's capture and confession, jimmie had been watching his chum get his aeroplane out of the cañon. "you haven't even thanked me for getting you out of the mess i found you in, and doctoring up your wound," he said, presently, resolved to keep on good terms with the boy for a short time longer, if it was possible to do so. "thank you, sir!" jimmie said, very modestly. "i think i must have received a good bump on the head." "indeed you did," smiled the other. after a little further talk slocum led the boy away to a cavern in the wall of the cañon which seemed to the weary lad to have no end. he saw several people lounging about as he passed through a large chamber, but paid little attention to them. at last slocum halted in a little alcove opening from a second chamber, in which were assembled at least a score of chinamen. "these people won't harm you," he said to the boy, swinging his arm about to include the group. "uncle sam is trying them out in the forest service, i don't think much of the idea myself, but i'm not the boss." then slocum went away and jimmie lay down and watched the chinamen. listening, he heard one of them speaking in english, then in chinese. he knew that he had heard that peculiar voice and dialect before and devoted his whole attention to the fellow. "well," he muttered, in a moment, with a grin, "i'm havin' the luck of a bowery boy in this deal, an' that is the greatest luck in the world." then he fell to wondering what chang chee, the keeper of one of the worst chinese restaurants on doyers street was doing there, in the heart of the rocky mountains, mixed up with alleged foresters. "just wait until i see ned!" the boy mused. "i'll put him next to somethin'. he'll be glad he brought me with him!" then the boy's thoughts went back to the camp in the valley of the wild beasts, as he called it. slocum might have told the truth about the attack on the boys, and they might be in trouble at that moment. he wondered, too, if, in case they were taken prisoners, they would be brought to the cavern. "anyhow," the lad mused, "they never intend to let me get out of this. if they did, they wouldn't have permitted me a sight of the chinks. unless i sneak away, there'll be an accident some day, an' then there'll be no more jimmie mcgraw!" the boy was tired and weak, so that even such serious thoughts as these could not keep him awake. wondering what conditions ned had found at the camp, after soaring out of the cañon, he dropped his head against the stone wall of the alcove and was soon in a deep sleep. the fumes of opium with which the cavern was filled might in a measure have contributed to this, but, anyway, nature was exhausted, and the boy's slumber was heavy and dreamless. chapter xii.--a member of the owl patrol. when jimmie awoke the fire which had burned in the cavern had gone out, and those who remained in the chamber seemed to be fast asleep. he tumbled out of his alcove, still feeling weak and dizzy, and moved toward a hanging rug which closed the entrance to the place. he drew one side of the rug back and saw the white light of day. the sun seemed to be high up in the sky, for the ledge at the front of the cavern showed a streak of gold. two chinamen sat at the entrance to the outer cave, and when he advanced toward them they waved him back. instead of retreating he stood regarding them with a puzzled look on his face. one was chang chee, the keeper of the disreputable chinese dive on doyers street, whom jimmie had noticed the night before, and the other was a much younger man--a boy, in fact. when chang ordered jimmie back the youngster turned toward him a face showing both curiosity and interest. "what's doin' here?" jimmie demanded, in a moment. he thought best not to show that he recognized chang, for he knew that the identification of the chinaman would only add to his peril, if that were possible. it was certain that chang would never permit the information that he had been seen there to get out to the government officers. jimmie's idea at that time was that he had blundered on a gang of opium smugglers, although he could not understand why so many chinamen were, apparently, engaged in the illegal traffic. chang finally turned his face away, with a frown, and jimmie advanced a step toward the boy, who threw himself carelessly down on his back and extended his right arm straight up from the shoulder. jimmie's eyes opened wider, and his breath almost stopped, when he saw the thumb and little finger thrown diagonally across the palm of the hand, the tip of the thumb covering the nail of the little finger, the three remaining fingers pointing upward. in the excitement of the moment, in the amazement caused by his recognition of the boy scout challenge, jimmie lost all caution. "say!" he began, but chang turned a repulsive face and ordered him into the rear chamber. the boy, thankful for the interruption, moved back a few paces, believing that the chinese boy who had given him the sign would communicate with him as soon as opportunity offered. this was the greatest puzzle the lad had ever been called upon to solve. some of the questions he asked himself were: "how did that chinese boy become a boy scout?" "is there a chinese patrol?" "was he permitted to become a member of an american patrol?" "why is he mixed up with that disreputable old chink?" "will he help me out of this hole, or will he ignore me?" of course there was not one of the questions the boy could answer, so he went back to his alcove and sat down, half believing that he had imagined the challenge. as the day wore on the men who had been asleep in the inner chamber arose, staggeringly, as if still under the stupefying influence of opium, and made their trembling way outside. when they had all disappeared chang pushed the rug aside so as to bring more light and air into the place and came and stood looking down on the boy. jimmie did not look up. he saw the shrunken figure up as far as the knees only. he was resolved not to open any conversation with the chink. if he wanted to talk, jimmie thought, let him choose his own subject and introduce it in his own way. the yellow face of the chinaman seemed to take on a more mask-like expression--or want of expression, rather--as the silence continued. when he spoke it was with a snarl which boded no good to the boy. "hungly?" he demanded. "hungry?" repeated jimmie. "you know it! if you've got any rat sandwiches or puppy potpies, just introduce me!" "flesh!" growled chang. "flesh?" repeated jimmie. "oh, yes, you mean fresh? well, you'd be just as fresh as i am if you were as hungry." "cheek!" cried chang. "kid allels have cheek--an' tummy!" "sure," said jimmie. "go on an' get me a porterhouse steak with french potatoes. i could eat a car of raw onions." chang turned away and walked out to the ledge, where the chinese boy stood, looking out into the sunshine. it was a glorious morning, with the air clear and just a little sharp, owing to the altitude. here and there little swirls of smoke showed that fires were burning in the forest, though none seemed to be close to the range. reaching the boy's side chang addressed a few words to him in chinese and left the cave, turning back, after a few paces, to observe the boy, now standing with a long, keen-bladed clasp-knife in his hand. as chang looked the boy ran his finger over the edge of the blade, as if to make sure that it was suitable for some purpose he had in view. with an exclamation of rage chang charged back at him and snatched the knife from his hand. "you fool!" he cried. "you let me alone!" shouted the other. "i tell you, i'm going to kill him!" jimmie heard the words and rose unsteadily to his feet. he recognized the voice as that of the boy who had given him the boy scout challenge. at least it was not that of chang, and there were only two figures outlined against the sky when he looked out beyond the rug, still pushed aside. "fool! fool! fool!" chang gritted out the words as he took the chinese boy by the back of the neck and hustled him into the cave. then he spoke for a minute in chinese and turned away again. jimmie stepped back into his alcove and felt around for a stone, or anything in the shape of a weapon, as the boy advanced toward him. "what does the badge say?" jimmie opened his eyes wider than ever, if possible, and stood facing the boy, half hiding the stone he had found. "be prepared," he replied. "then drop that rock!" jimmie dropped it and stepped forward. "liu, owl patrol, san francisco," the chinese boy said. "mcgraw, wolf patrol, new york," replied jimmie. "you don't look very comfortable in here," liu said. "nixy," replied jimmie, wondering if the boy really was preparing to carry out the threat he had made to chang. "you heard what i just said to chang?" liu asked. jimmie nodded his bandaged head. "bluff!" said liu. "he's watching now to see that i don't make an attempt on your life. had to do it!" "i see," jimmie replied, wondering if it wasn't pretty near time to wake up. "why don't he want me killed?" jimmie asked in a moment. "he thinks you have information he needs," was the answer. "are you hungry?" "that's what chang asked," jimmie said, "but he didn't bring me any grub." "he told me to," grinned liu, "and i told him that i'd kill you if i got near enough to do so. he'll hang around until he sees me bring you something to eat." "you ain't so very slow yourself," grinned jimmie. "where did you learn to speak united states so well?" "born in frisco," was the reply. "the boy scouts take me out on their hunting trips to do the cooking. that's why i'm here now. i know the mountains, and chang hired me to go along with him." "an' they took you into the patrol, did they?" asked jimmie. "sure they did," was the reply. "why not? i'm an american citizen, or will be in four years." "have they captured any of the others?" asked jimmie. the chinese boy shook his head. "have they heard from the men they sent out to capture them?" was the next question. another shake of the head, then liu drew closer and whispered. "do you see chang poking his head around that rock in the opening? he's watching to see that i don't knife you!" jimmie saw the parchment-like face of the old reprobate peering around the rock and wanted to heave a stone at it, but knew that this would not be good policy. instead he threw it at liu, and missed, of course. "you seem to be wide awake yourself," liu said. "why don't you go and get me some grub?" demanded jimmie. "i'm near starved to death." "all right!" said liu, and turned away. jimmie was now in a deeper puzzle than before. he had no means of knowing whether liu was telling him the truth. he might be trying to get into his confidence in order to gain the information sought, whatever it was. however, in a short time liu returned with a generous supply of food, fried fish, fresh biscuit--the boy wondered how liu had managed to bake them there--coffee, and plenty of tinned goods. "what's this bunch doin' here?" the boy asked, as he made heavy inroads on the fresh fish, coffee and biscuits. "i don't know," was the hesitating reply. "i know," jimmie went on. "they're smuggling opium an' setting fire to the woods. they'll all get pinched!" "i hope so," was the reply. "it sounds odd to hear a chinese boy talk straight united states," jimmie said, after a short silence. liu made no reply for a moment. he was watching the ledge outside the entrance to the cave. the occasional rattle of pebbles told him that some one was standing there, probably just out of sight. "what is chang doin' here?" jimmie asked, presently. "he's in some scheme with the foresters," was the reply. "they ain't no foresters!" jimmie said. "they're timber thieves an' smugglers, an' firebugs, an' murderers!" liu shuddered but remained silent. after listening a second he went to the entrance and looked out. there was no one in sight at first, then a roughly dressed fellow came around the angle of the cliff to the north and approached him. the fellow was rather short for a man of his width of shoulder, and his step was remarkably light and quick for one of his apparent weight. his face was sun and wind-tanned, with plenty of mountain soil on top of that. a cartridge-belt encircled the loose jacket he wore and a revolver handle protruded from the pistol pocket of his trousers. "what's the word?" he asked, gruffly, as he came up to liu. "go on in," replied liu. jimmie saw evidences of treachery in the hostile attitude of the newcomer and retreated farther into the cavern. then he saw liu doubling up with laughter and stopped. it didn't look very amusing to him, especially as the stranger was advancing toward him with swift strides. then something remotely familiar in the set of the shoulders, the carriage of the head, attracted his closer attention to the figure and he moved forward a step. "you're a nice little boy to get into a trap like this!" there was no mistaking that voice. just how ned nestor had secured that disguise and found his way to that spot jimmie did not stop to think. he knew that it was his chum, and that was enough. while the two boys clasped hands liu stood regarding them smilingly, at the same time watching the entrance. "how did you ever find this hole?" jimmie asked, his wonder at the thing which had happened mastering all else. "i saw this cave when my machine dropped into a hole in the air in the cañon," was the reply. "the shelf where we landed is just above this cavern. there was a fire in the outer room, and numerous chinamen were moving about." "they're opium smugglers," jimmie said. "man smugglers!" laughed ned. "do you mean that they bring chinks over the border here, an' so run them down into civilization whenever they get a chance?" demanded jimmie. "that is just it," ned answered. "we seem to have come upon a lot of the articles to be smuggled," he added. "how did you come across liu?" jimmie asked. "oh, i met him while i was prowling about not far from the cave, at daylight," was the reply. "he helped me get this disguise." liu was still watching at the mouth of the cavern, so the boys talked freely, with little fear of being disturbed. ned told of his return to the camp, and of the all-night hunt for the missing boy. it took ned and frank a long time to find the opening the former had seen in his swift drop down the cañon, but about daylight it was located. they had, however, found many chinamen loitering about, and frank had gone back to camp to reassure the others, while ned remained on the eastern side on the chance of getting into communication with jimmie. while loitering about liu had come up the slope. it was quite a long story, that of his getting a perfect understanding with liu, and ned cut it as short as possible, merely saying that liu had recognized his name, having heard his associates mention it frequently. then the chinese boy had procured the disguise and ned had stuffed out the shoulders of the coat to give it a better fit. "i was observed by a half a dozen men, some americans, some chinamen, while getting in here," ned said, then, "but the disguise misled them. now, the question is this: how are we going to get out?" "we'll have to fight our way out?" asked jimmie. "it won't answer," ned replied. "they are too many for us." liu now came into the second cave and held up his hand for silence. "you'll have to hide in the back chamber," he said. "chang is coming in." "i thought this was the back chamber," jimmie said. "i suspect," liu said, "that there's a chain of caves running through the divide. come on!" liu passed back to the west, removed a great box which stood against the rear wall, and disclosed an opening through which the patrol leader crawled. when the box was replaced ned stopped and listened. what he heard was the click of a typewriter. chapter xiii.--off on a desperate mission. what business calling for the use of a typewriter was being transacted under the main divide of the rocky mountains? ned stood perfectly still in the darkness and listened. he could hear the click of the keys and nothing else. at length he moved stealthily forward over an even surface, feeling his way in order that he might not trip over some unseen obstruction and raise a racket in a tumble. presently he came to a rug hanging at the end of the chamber in which he was. from the other side of the rug came a faint light. the noise of the keys was more distinct here, and the boy knew that he had at least located the operator. while he stood listening and undecided as to what course to pursue, the noise of the machine ceased and the operator--a young, well-dressed american--came toward him carrying a lighted candle in his hand. ned crouched down in an angle of the wall and waited for him to pass. the boy was not quite so anxious now to leave the strange rendezvous in which he found himself. some mischief greater than smuggling opium and chinamen over the border might be carried on there. his work seemed to be growing on his hands! he had been sent to that district to investigate the cause of the frequent forest fires, and given an aeroplane in order that he might fly over the forests in making his observations. it seemed to him now, as he lay on his side against a wall of rock, waiting for the typist to pass with his light, that he was spending more time under the ground than in the air! the main range of the rocky mountains in the northern part of montana is noted for its rugged and irregular formation. it is declared by some that the home of the original cave dwellers was here. many of the great cañons are known to be honeycombed with openings almost large enough to hide a small city in. the typist moved straight ahead and his light disappeared from view. then ned advanced beyond the rug, which appeared to be of fine material, and flashed on his light. there was a table in the room, a couple of chairs, a row of pigeon-holes attached to the wall. on the table was a typewriter, in the pigeon-holes were folded papers, neatly ticketed and enclosed in rubber bands. aside from the underground smell the place was tolerably comfortable. the air was damp and chilly, but ned was well clothed and did not mind that. as has been said, the boy was now in no haste to leave the place. he believed that the mystery he had been sent out to solve would be solved there. for an hour or more he searched over the place, opening the folded papers and making a close examination of the typewriter and the stock of unused paper in the drawer of the table. at length, his examination completed, he passed back into the chamber behind the rug and listened at the opening through which he had entered. a sound of the steady beat of blows reached his ears at first, then a low whistle. that was jimmie, he knew. the lad had a habit of whistling softly to himself, usually without time or tune. waiting for a lull in the blows, he rapped softly on the box which backed up against the opening. instantly the whistling ceased, and jimmie's voice was heard. "come on out," the boy said. "i've been kicking my heels against this box for an hour, waitin' for you to signal back." "be sure there is no one watching," ned cautioned. he heard jimmie walking away, then heard him coming back. in a moment the box was drawn away from the opening. "you've been in there long enough to dig through to china," jimmie said, as ned stood by his side. "what did you find in there?" "a double keyboard typewriter," grinned ned. "quit your kiddin'," answered jimmie. "you'll be claimin' next that you found a brass band in there." ned did not stop to explain to the boy all that he had discovered in the inner chamber. his work there seemed to be finished now, and he was anxious to get back to camp. there was no knowing what had been going on there during his absence. "where is liu?" he asked. "watchin' outside," was the reply. "he's my guard. goin' to shoot me if i try to get away." "and the others?" asked ned. "don't know," replied jimmie. "they herded a lot of chinks an' went off down the valley." liu now appeared in the entrance, bowed gravely to the boys, and stepped out on the ledge, with a boy scout challenge in the wave of his hand. "he's all right!" jimmie said. "you ought to see the breakfast he got up for me. that feller can cook--an' then some!" "call him," ned suggested, "and we'll see if it is safe for me to go out." "for you to go out!" repeated jimmie. "for us to go out." "i think you'd better remain here," ned replied. jimmie looked at his chum in amazement. the light back there was not good, but ned saw several questions in the boy's eyes. "liu can protect you, can't he?" ned asked. "that's what i don't know," was the reply. "he will do his best, of course, but his best might not be good enough." ned was thinking fast. if he permitted the boy to leave, the fact of his escape would be likely to scatter the outlaws--and he very much wished to keep them together for a short time. "i think," he said, "that we have found the men we want--with the goods. if you leave now they will make a quick getaway. you see that, don't you?" "of course," was the reply. "an' i see, too, that if i remain i'm the one that's likely to make a quick getaway--to a country no one comes back from." "there may be some other way," ned said, thoughtfully. "give me a chance to think it over." "oh, i'll stay, all right," jimmie went on, "if it will do any good. i guess they won't eat me alive." as he spoke the boy put his hand to his eyes and gave them a long rub. "there's smoke in here," he said. "don't you smell it?" "i was thinking of that," ned replied, anxiously. "there may be a fire in the cañon." regardless of consequences, jimmie rushed to the ledge and looked out. the sun was no longer in sight, for a mist of smoke hung over the cañon and over the slope to the east. "there's goin' to be the biggest blaze ever!" jimmie cried. liu came to the side of the boys and pointed to the south. "the fire came through a gully over there," he said. "i was watching it from here. it was not put out yesterday, and worked its way over the divide. when it gets to going strong here no one can live in this cavern. i'm going to get out." "that's the idea!" jimmie cried. the cañon was a veritable fire trap. for years the boughs and the turp of the trees had been dropping down. ned knew that the blaze would mount to the cavern and be drawn into it. the atmosphere of the place indicated openings at the rear which would serve as chimneys. "oh, the devils!" jimmie cried. "to set a fire like that!" "they didn't set it, i tell you," insisted liu, speaking as if in the defense of his employers. "who did, then?" demanded jimmie, half angrily. "it came through from the other side, just as i told you," replied liu, with the utmost good nature. "there'll be a pass through the range some day where the fire found its way through." "but they set the fire on the other side," jimmie urged. "they set it for the purpose of burning our aeroplane an' driving us out of the district. when we go out of the district they'll go with us, wearin' steel bracelets!" he added. "i rather think," liu said, "that they set the fires over there to draw the foresters, away from this section, and so protect their business. that is what they have been doing right along." "yes," ned said, "there has been a forest fire for every cargo of opium, for every gang of chinamen, that has been brought in over the border." "so that is the real trouble?" asked jimmie. "how do you know so much about it?" ned smiled and pointed to the slope to the east, where columns of fire were cutting their way through the timber. "it strikes me," he said, "that now is a pretty good time for us to get out of this. the outlaws won't come back so long as this danger exists, and we shall not be missed for a long time--or rather, liu and jimmie will not be missed." "they'll think we ran out to escape the heat and lost our lives in the fire," liu said. ned stood hesitatingly at the mouth of the cavern while liu gathered a few articles he wanted to take with him. "if i thought the fire would reach the cave when the big trees in the cañon get to going," he mused, "i'd go back and get the papers--or more of them." "it surely will get into the cave," liu said. "you see, the summit scoops down here quite a lot, and the timber line is almost to the top. the gulch below is quite high up on this elevation, still it is not so very high as compared with some of the summits to the north and south. so, you see, the timber line here is capable of getting up a good deal of a blaze, especially where the cañons are full of trees. the fire will come up here, all right." ned darted away, was gone a minute or so, and returned with hands full of folded papers. "what you got?" demanded jimmie. ned laughed but made no satisfactory reply. after stowing the papers away in the numerous pockets of his borrowed suit, he led the way down the ledge, away from the cave he had first seen in his fall down the cañon, and which had proved so profitable to his search. the air was now filled with smoke. the cañon below was not yet in full flame, but a column of destruction was creeping upon it from the south. it seemed to ned that there were numerous small fires, though how this could be true he could not understand. the boys made their way along the ledge without coming upon any of the men who had occupied the cavern. it was evident that the few left after the departure of the men with the chinamen had fled before the clouds of smoke. the ledge wound up on the plateau from which ned had dropped the night before, and here they paused to decide on some course of action. the light breeze was from the west, so the fires below were in a measure protected from it by the bulk of the summit, but ned knew that the heat would in time bring the air into the burning spaces with a rush, merging the little blazes into one gigantic one which might repeat the disasters of august, . now and then, from far to the east, there came a signal in the shape of a gunshot. the faithful foresters were at work there, trying to head off the advancing flames before they passed beyond control. the place to combat a forest fire, of course, is ahead of it, and not where the red line is running through the sputtering timber. "if i could get the aeroplane," ned said, as he looked over the country from the plateau, "i might get to the fighting line and do some good." "where is it?" asked liu. "at the camp." "the others won't dare bring it out, of course?" asked liu. "doubtful," ned replied. "frank has always taken a great interest in the machine, and was studying its mechanism when i left, but i don't think he will attempt to operate it. he ought not to, anyway." "if the men who left here to pinch the boys," jimmie said, "showed up at the camp, an' frank got a chance to mount the aeroplane, you bet your life he's shootin' through the air with it this minute, or hidin' in some valley." "but there were three of them," ned urged, "and all couldn't ride." "they'd try!" gritted jimmie, "unless pat got cold feet an' run away." ned glanced up at the sky, now very thick with smoke, as the boy spoke. he looked with indifference at first, then with interest, then with anxiety. there was a shape moving up there, coming slowly toward the plateau. "there they are!" shouted jimmie, whose attention had been attracted to the sky by ned's fixed gaze. "frank's runnin' the machine. i'll bet dollars to apples that he'll dump her into the cañon when he tries to land here." the aeroplane, indeed, looked as if there were an uncertain hand at the helm. she wavered, tipped in the air currents, dipped wickedly, circled staggeringly, but finally swooped down on the plateau and, more by good luck than good handling, settled down within a dozen feet of the lip of the cañon. frank and jack were aboard. pat, they said, had taken to his heels at the first suggestion of his joining the others in the ride. ned examined the machine carefully and found it in excellent shape, although the gasoline was getting low. "better go an' get some," jimmie suggested. ned looked toward the line of smoke off to the east. "we can reach the firing line with what we have," he said, in a moment, "and that may be sufficient for the present." "what you goin' to do?" demanded the boy. "going to see if i can't help fight this fire," was the reply. "from here?" laughed jack. ned indicated a distant line of hills where the forest still stood green on the slopes. "we'll fight the fire from there," he said. "we can see the location well enough now, but the smoke will soon shut it out from here." "what can we do when we get there?" asked jack. "we are safe enough here. the smoke and heat may scorch us a little, but we'll live through it, and that is more than we can say about the safety of the place you point out." "pat will be making his way here," ned said, "and you may as well remain here and meet him. i'll take frank and go over to the place where the foresters are fighting the blaze." jimmie was on his feet in an instant. "me for the ride with you!" he shouted. "some one may have to run the machine back," ned said. "you can't do that, my little man, and frank can, so frank goes." "i don't see what you can do over there that the foresters can't do," liu said. "there is no knowing how useful the aeroplane may be," ned said. then the machine was rolled back as far up the plateau as possible, the boys took their seats, and then they were lost in the dense clouds of smoke in the sky. [illustration: illustration no. ] chapter xiv.--the battle in the air. the smoke was driving fiercely through the green trees on the slope, and the line of fire was not far in the rear. every moment the wind gained force, every minute the flames leaped higher and faster. the foresters felling trees and clearing a space at an advantageous point some distance in advance of the flames were working blindly, mechanically. the heat was intense, the smoke suffocating, irritating, blinding. the shirts of the workers were open at the throat, their coats had long ago been lost as they had been beaten back from one stand to another. now and then a worker dropped senseless in his tracks, his lips cracked with the heat, his face blistered, his tongue lolling from his smarting mouth like that of an overworked horse. then the men who were able to move and understand would carry him back to a spot of supposed safety and return to re-engage in the almost hopeless fight, the battle which the flames were winning in every charge and sally. the aeroplane, after a narrow escape from destruction, landed on a little rise of ground back of the working line when the wind lulled for an instant, and hope shone in the faces of the astonished men who gathered about to greet the unexpected arrivals. "we can master it," green, the leader, said, after many questions had been asked and answered, "if we can be supplied with water. we wasted our supply wetting our clothes a long time ago, and are suffering." "get us water," shouted another, "and we'll win yet." "there's a spring three miles away," green went on, speaking in ned's ear, for the roaring of the flames drowned all ordinary conversation. "if you can take our water bottles there and fill them we can beat this blaze. if you can't we've got to retreat and let the whole district burn over." "i have very little gasoline," ned replied, "but i'll try." "we sent two men out not long ago," green continued, thrusting his scorched face close to the boy's. "we sent them out with water bags, but there are no trails, and it will take them hours to make the spring and return. with your aeroplane you ought to do it within half an hour." "fire fighters marooned without a supply of water, or a trail cut to a spring!" shouted frank, scornfully. "great head some one in authority has!" "there are no trails, no telephones, no horses!" cried green. "it looks as if the government sent us here to die. hurry up with that water." "if the gasoline holds out," ned said, loading a dozen water bags on the machine, "i'll be back here in less than half an hour, bar accidents." "there is plenty of gasoline back there in the shanty," cried green. "we have been using it lately in starting back fires, but the wind is now too strong for that. get a move on, and take all you want." in a short space of time, but not without great risk, the tanks of the aeroplane were filled, and then ned took in the general situation in the sky. the wind was blowing in puffs, but it was certain that a miniature tornado was at hand. he thought he could reach the spring, which had been described as lying to the southeast, but was not certain that he could make his way back. he believed, however, that by flying either very low or very high up, so as to get all the protection possible from the mountain, or escape the sweep of wind just above the fire, he might be able to bring in one load of water before the worst of the wind storm came. he knew that it was an almost unheard of thing to even try to navigate the air in such a gale, but human lives were at stake, and he decided to try. "you'll have to help me up against this wind," ned said to green. "if i start with the air current i'll be carried too far to the east before my power begins to become effective. if i can hold my own against the wind until i get above the smoke i think i can win the game." it was a desperate expedient, but it appeared to be the only possible one. if the men had water they might succeed in stopping the fire and saving millions of dollars worth of timber. if the fire gained the upper hand they might lose their lives. the men cleared and smoothed a path for the run of the wheels, by great exertion sent the machine along at good speed, and then stood and watched it with anxiety depicted in their faces. the great white bird quivered in the face of the wind, but the motors were true to their duty and the rudder held. to turn about in the face of that rush would be impossible, so ned worked his levers guardedly and kept the wings as level as he could. now and then a swirl of heated air would shake the hopes of those watching below, but in the end the aeroplane drifted slowly ahead, up, higher up, and was lost in the smoke. "the lad is worth his weight in gold!" shouted green. "he'll do it! i know he'll do it!" "powerful motor," one of the foresters said. "when we saw the machine last she was actually holding her own against the wind." this was, indeed, the fact, but the wind was not as strong in the higher levels as at the upper limit of the heat from the fires. a great fire usually brings a great wind, as those who witnessed the burning of chicago and san francisco well know. the hot air rises, forming a partial vacuum, and the colder air rushes in. ned and frank gained the spring, filled their water bags and started back. it was no easy task to land near the spring in that whirl of wind, nor yet an easy task to get the aeroplane into the air again, but the feats were accomplished. often after that exciting day the boys declared that they had no idea how they ever did it. "we were excited," frank would say, "and took chances, everything worked in our favor, and we loaded the water. we knew that lives were at stake, and it seemed that we had the strength of a score of men, and the cool heads of men far beyond all excitement. i never saw anything like the way ned handled the levers. the wings and the rudders seemed to me to work on a brain suggestion rather than on a movement of the levers." but the most difficult part of the journey still remained to be accomplished after the water had been secured. the 'plane was much heavier and did not respond so readily to the hand of the driver, and the return course was quartering against the wind. ned, however, did not attempt to move directly toward the destination he sought. instead he sailed off to the south, working west as much as possible. he tacked as a yacht tacks in the wind and came near upsetting several times. he found it impossible to sail low on account of the eddies and currents created by the heat, and so lifted the machine far up into the air. it was better sailing there, and he managed to get as far west as he thought necessary. but he could not see the landing place. below was an ocean of smoke, the waves heaving in the touch of the wind, the edges now and then tipped with flame. above the sun smiled at him, and the birds flew excitedly about, peering down at the threatening roll of clouds. "i'm afraid," frank said, grasping an upright and clinging to the water bags. "i never was so frightened in my life," ned called back, lifting his voice so that it might be heard above the snapping of the motors. "i didn't finish," frank called back, his heart thumping loudly. "i wanted to say that i was afraid we'd sweep past the workers when we descended into the smoke and the swifter breeze near the earth." "i said just what i wanted to say," ned answered. "i never was half so scared in all my life." yet his hand on the lever was steady, his brain was as cool as if he had been sitting in the wolf patrol club room in new york. he knew that the dip of a wing a foot lower than he intended might send them both into the blazing forest below. he was afraid, but not with a shrinking, physical fear, but afraid because he understood the peril he was in--because he knew that upon his efforts depended the lives of the heroes in the heated hell below. "we've got to go into that mess of smoke, i suppose?" shouted frank. "there is no other way," ned called back. "we've got to dip down low enough to see the line of fire and take our chances on landing where the fighters are. you understand that they are farther to the east than when we left them?" "of course they have been driven back," frank said. "i never thought of that. we may not be able to find them at all." ned shut his teeth and settled his jaw. "we've got to find them," he said. a long, sullen roaring, like the beating of waves on a beach in a storm, now reached the boys' ears, even shutting out the chattering of the motors. it came from the west, and passed along, as it seemed, below the level held by the aeroplane, now high up in the air. "if we don't get down there pretty soon," ned said, shouting, "we will be too late. that wind will join the different fires and make one roaring mass of the whole northwest. i wish i knew just how far the foresters have been driven back." "do you know where to look for them, north or south?" asked frank. "there is a peak to the west and one to the east," was the reply. "they are on a line with the two. but the trouble is that we can't see the peaks after we drop down into the smoke." "there appears to be a little lull in the wind now," frank said, shutting his lips tight, as a man does when about to make a sudden plunge into unknown waters. the remark was suggestive. ned knew by it that his chum had braced himself for the dash. "here we go, then," ned replied. "remember that we'll go about eighty miles an hour when i turn the motor on full head, and that we can't be more than five miles from the spot where we left them, so keep your eyes out." the aeroplane dipped gracefully as ned touched the lever. in a minute the boys were surrounded by smoke. it was hot smoke, too, and made breathing difficult. their eyes smarted until their faces were wet with nature's protest against such irritation of the organs of sight. the chuck-chuck, snap-snap of the motors was in their ears, the seats they occupied--frail rests between life and death--shivered under the pulsations of the machine. now and then the aeroplane dipped frightfully, but the wings and the rudders brought it back again. "can you see the earth yet?" asked frank, in an awed tone, which sounded like a whisper in that clatter. "we seem to be over the fire," ned returned. and that was all. there was no need of conversation. in all their lives they would never be so near to a frightful death as they were then. first they caught sight of a rocky ridge. ned knew where that was, and realized that he was still in the direct line of the workers. beyond this ridge, he knew, was a valley, so he must drop down. the workers were on a level beyond the valley, a great plain of fir and pine between gigantic ranges of the rocky mountains. the aeroplane trembled as she dropped, swiftly, apparently straight down. frank grasped his upright and prepared to spring out of the wreckage when it fell, if there was anything to fall from after the trees had had their way with the frail machine. the smoke was blinding. nothing could be seen but smoke for a time. then the dark gray clouds turned red, and ned knew that he was nearing the advance line of the fire, and that it was mounting to the very tops of the giant trees on the plain--or elevated plateau, rather, for, though comparatively smooth of surface and heavily timbered, it was far above sea level. if you look on an enlarged map of northern montana you will see that the rocky mountains do not consist of one great, massive range. there are ridges and valleys, and plateaus extending for hundreds of miles along the british frontier. there are peaks from which the snow never disappears, and there are timber lines which crawl almost to the summit of other peaks. there are fertile valleys where cattle grow fat, and great gorges where beasts of prey await their victims in thickets. it is the timber on this great stretch of country that the united states government is trying to save. the heat was blistering now, and ned feared for the safety of his gasoline tanks. at a motion from him frank removed his coat, carefully, for a slight movement in the air is sometimes productive of disastrous results, placed it over the tanks, after a great effort, and managed to saturate it with water from one of the bags. through the smoke a line of tree tops now came into view, low down, and the boys knew that they had passed the fire line. ned tried to slow down, but found that he must keep the motors going in order to retain control of the machine. "there's a clear space ahead!" frank shouted, and ned dropped. then a giant trunk obtruded itself, and the boy tried to dip and whirl so as to dodge it, but the pressure of the wind was too strong. the machine headed straight for the tree, which seemed to frank to be about a thousand feet high. "hang on to the first thing that comes to your hands if she strikes!" ned shouted. "but stick to the 'plane as long as she is clear. there may be a current of air which will sweep us away from that tree." "here's hoping!" frank gasped back, and then the smoke shut out the view, making the situation doubly dangerous. chapter xv.--told by the forest ranger. the rangers, almost exhausted, were fighting the fire desperately, hoping against hope, when the cyclone--it amounted at times almost to that--struck the forest. then they knew that the fight was lost for the time being. it was now a question of escaping from the flames they had been battling with. the chief foresters knew very well that there was a way to safety, but they had under their command many rangers who had joined the service merely for the adventures they anticipated meeting, and these, they understood, would be hard to manage. when the order came to drop everything and fall back some of the new men accused those in authority of cowardice and kept on in the course mapped out for them under entirely different conditions. two of them even insisted on starting back to the rough shanty and preparing dinner. they lost their way in the blazing inferno, and their bones were found two weeks later, at the foot of a tree which had been burned into a stub, but which had not fallen. when the danger became apparent to green who was in charge of the company found by nestor, he ordered his men into a "burn" of half a dozen acres in extent. by "burn" is meant a patch of forest which has been cleared by fire the previous year. this "burn" was entirely stripped of trees. the fire had done its work well, but had been checked before spreading. the men could hear trees falling as they dashed along. the fire was screaming, the wind whistling and roaring. coals of fire, driven like arrows by the wind, hit the men in the back as they rushed toward safety. at last the "burn" was gained, and the men threw themselves face down on the ground. at the eastern edge there were large logs which had not been entirely consumed, and some of the men lay down behind them. the air was so hot that it cut the lungs like acid. above, across the old "burn," streamed a river of flame, now racing like a mountain torrent, now dropping sullenly back to the west, like a fiery ceiling which had been rolled away. on such occasions the fainting foresters below could catch a breath of fresh air and a hazy view of the sky. some of the men, half crazed by their sufferings, arose to their feet and shook clenched hands at the blazing forests, at the brassy sky, and the green hills away to the east. green crept from one to another and whispered that the only hope of life lay in keeping on the ground. once when he was creeping toward a man who was moaning in anguish and despair he turned his eyes upward to the sky, clear for an instant, for the wind was wayward after a time, and saw a speck sweeping out of the west, dropping lower and lower, whirling in the wind, racing like an express train. "dan," he whispered to the man he was trying to comfort, "get a brace! there's no use of giving up now. why, man, the fight is won, and nestor is coming back with water!" "impossible!" grunted the other. "impossible--in this wind!" "then look," green said. a sheet of flame swept over the "burn," lay upon it for an instant like a red-hot roof, and then warped and twisted itself away. "i see," dan said, looking into the sky again, "but he can't land. impossible--in this storm!" "wait and see!" green said, and sank back to the earth. the aeroplane circled, high up, like a bird seeking its prey in the burning forest. the wind was tolerably steady at that height, but ned knew that when he came into the lower current he would meet conditions which he could not understand. "there's a place to drop!" frank shouted to him, pointing ahead to the "burn," which seemed only a few yards away. the aeroplane had missed the tree which had threatened it by an inch, and had turned upward again, for there were other trees in the way of a descent there. the "burn" was the first free spot that had been observed, and, besides, it lay inside the line ned had figured as leading to the foresters. "hang on!" ned cried. the aeroplane plunged down, almost vertically, and frank felt as if he was standing on his head. "don't jump when it strikes the ground," ned commanded. watched by a score of anxious eyes--for the foresters under green had all been told of the coming relief--the aeroplane shot down, struck the ground at the center of the "burn," rolled swiftly for a few yards, and stopped. at that moment the space above filled with flame. both boys threw themselves on the ground and waited. when the fierce gust was over the men gathered about them eagerly. "did you make it?" asked green. "yes," ned replied. "get the bags out and distribute the water. don't let the men waste it." "i'll see to that," cried green. without the water, without the cooling sips, without the wet cloths held over nose and mouth, without the saturated sponges laid on scorched heads, the men would have died there in the forest. presently, when the consumption of the timber to the west reduced the heat, when the wind quieted down in a measure, they were ready for another fight with the flames, and it was owing largely to their exertions that the fire was extinguished before millions of acres had been burned over. "it is a dream!" green exclaimed, that afternoon, as he stood by ned and the aeroplane. "i don't believe yet that you did it." "i don't see how i did," laughed ned. "anyhow, i'm sure i couldn't do it again. i guess providence took the matter into his own hands. honestly, i do not believe any human strength or skill could do what was done with the aeroplane to-day. it was a miracle." "i know of a nervy boy who had something to do with the miracle," said green. ned was naturally anxious regarding pat, jack and jimmie, but believed they would show up in good form whenever he got back to the vicinity of the place where they had been left. when the boys were in camp with the rangers that night, ned asked frank about pat's idea of safety after refusing to go up in the aeroplane. "he said he would stay about the valley," frank replied. "there is plenty of provisions there, you know, and pat is quite long on the eats," he added, with a laugh. "and jack and jimmie will be sure to hang about the neighborhood of the caves," ned said. "the chinese boy, liu, will be able to care for them. if there is enough gasoline in the tanks, i may go back to the valley to-night." "you'd better get some sleep to-night," frank advised. "i don't know how long it has been since you settled down for a night of it. if you keep your brain working right you've got to sleep." "i really ought to go to san francisco," was the astonishing reply to this advice. "i have work to do there." "what work?" demanded frank. "you see," ned answered, "we have done nothing yet, except discover a crime with which we are supposed to have nothing to do. we have brought a little water for the fire-fighters, but we came here for a certain purpose, and we have not made good as yet. perhaps, when i get to frisco, i can hunch my wits, as the baseball fans say, and report good progress." "i don't understand what you mean," frank said. "i am not sufficiently sure of my ground to attempt an explanation now," ned replied. "of course," frank said, thoughtfully, "there's the murder case you went to frisco about before. you might look that up again, but i can't see where that has any bearing on this forest fire business." "you may be surprised," ned said, "when the end comes. somehow, i have an idea that the two crimes dovetail into each other." "nothing stirring!" laughed frank. "they don't seem to me to match. still, you may have information i do not possess." an hour later, after the not very elaborate supper had been eaten, green came to the little tent which had been set aside for ned and frank. he had not wholly escaped the dangers of the day unscathed. there were burns on his hands and face, and one of his feet was bandaged. "shoe burned through," he said, shortly. "i shall have to walk with a crutch for several days." "you won't like that," ned suggested. "no, indeed," was the reply, "especially as i would like to be moving about in order to see what has happened to the other boys." "have you heard from any of the other groups?" asked ned. "howard came in from the north," was the reply. "three men killed up there. the fire caught them unawares. one of my men has gone south, but it will be some hours before i hear from him." "i am afraid there were several lives lost," ned said. "in the morning i'll fly about and see what i can learn." "what i came here to talk about," green said, after a pause, "is this. i want to know what you think of the chinks?" "the chinese fire-fighters?" asked ned. green laughed quietly for a moment before replying. then: "they told you that, did they?" ned nodded. he wanted to jump into the subject without waiting for green to have his say, for he was greatly interested, but prudence told him to listen to the forester first. "yes," he said. "they told me that." "also that they were foresters--the men who told the story about the chinks, i mean?" "yes, one of them claimed to be in charge of this district." "well, you know better than that now, so there is no use in talking about that. you saw some of the chinks?" "certainly. i even had the honor of visiting their residence." frank laughed, wondering what sort of a story ned would have to tell him when they were alone again. "it is a wonder you ever got out again," green said. "i left under the excitement of the fire," ned said. "it was easy enough." "do you know where the chinks have gone?" asked green. "i think i do," was the reply. "to san francisco?" "yes, some of them. others to portland, i think." "smuggled in?" "of course, though it seems odd that they should want to cross the border so far away from civilization. it must be expensive getting them in over such a route." "the men at the bottom of the game are watched," green said. "watched so closely that they are obliged to keep out of the actual work and do their business through unsuspected channels. after this place has been raided they will try some other point." "you know what has been going on then?" asked ned, surprised that the matter, as understood by the forester, had not been reported to him by the secret service man in san francisco. "yes," was the reply. "and you have reported to your superior officers?" green nodded, and ned began to feel provoked at the strange attitude taken by the government in the matter. surely he should have been posted as to conditions in the district before being sent on. "why wasn't i informed of this new element in the case?" he asked. "well," green replied, "the officials have an idea that the men who are running the chinks and the opium in are the men who are responsible for the forest fires. in fact, i have so reported to them for a long time." "go on," the puzzled boy requested. "you see," green continued, "i might go and pick up a couple of dozen chinks almost any month, and capture a lot of opium, and arrest a few men caught with the goods on, but, don't you see, that wouldn't end the game?" "i see that," ned answered. "there is a man at the head of this game who is working from behind the scenes somewhere," green hastened to say. "i don't know who he is. the officials at san francisco don't know who he is, or where he is. the big guns at washington know just about as much regarding the head center of the game as we do. well, that is what you were sent here for--to get down to cases, as i used to say on south clark street, chicago." "it was thoughtful of them not to interrupt the game until i got here," ned said. "yes, i thought so," green went on. "i thought that any man, or boy, coming here to get to the bottom of this thing would want us to leave a few ropes hanging out for him to climb down. you found 'em." "yes, i found them," ned replied. "i found the counterfeit foresters and the chinks, as you call them, and i found something else." "that is what we expected you would do," green said, after a moment's hesitation. "we wanted you to begin without pointers, with a brain free of all the unsuccessful schemes which have been worked. you see, i know a great deal about it, my boy," he added with a laugh. "i knew, days ago, that you would be here. when i saw the aeroplane in the sky i knew who was in charge of it." "what is the next move?" asked the boy. "that is for you to say," was the reply. "i am under orders to follow any reasonable instructions from you. it is for you to suggest something." "well," ned said, "that brings me to a point i was studying over when you came in. i was wondering if you would detail men to do certain things for me." "sure i will. if washington has confidence enough in you to put you in charge of the blindest case in history, why shouldn't i have equal confidence in you? you bet i'll be there with the oxen when you give the word." "i thank you," ned replied. "what i want now is men enough to guard two points. one is a cave near lake kintla, and the other is the cavern where the chinese have been hiding." "how many men?" asked green. "two to each place. if there is need of more, others should be ready to assist." "i wish you all success," green said, after the details of the surveillance had been arranged. "we have located the tools, and now it is for you to let down to bed rock. the government wants the headpiece of this game, and believes that you can put your finger on him. half a dozen inspectors have failed, but i have faith in you, boy." "well," ned replied, "i am glad of your confidence, and thankful for the help you promise, and will only say that the man behind the scenes will soon be brought out. i think i know his 'cue'!" he added, with a laugh. "already?" asked green. "i am only expressing confidence in the clues i now hold," ned said in reply. "it may be that the next clues i find will point the other way." green shook hands with the boys and went to his tent. it was a clear night up above the mountain tops, but down where the boys were the smoke of consumed forests lay on the ground like the gray ghost of fallen trees. off to the west the summit of the rocky mountains--or one of the summits--lifted itself above the smudge, standing like a giant up to his neck in gray dust. "over there," frank said, "is pat--hungry, if you want to know, and nearer are jack and jimmie. i wish we could hear from them." "if the ground wasn't still red hot back there," ned said, "jimmie would be sure to find us." "by the way," frank said, presently, "what did you mean when you told green that you had a 'cue' which would bring out the man behind the scenes?" "i meant that i have blundered on a clue which promises well," was the reply. "and now," he said, yawning, "i'm going to bed. rather warm, but i think i'll sleep, all right." in five minutes ned was sound asleep and frank was about to lie down by his side when green made his appearance. the forester noted the sleeping boy and laid a finger on his lips. "let him sleep," he said. "and come out here and see if you know anything about the fellow that is tampering with the aeroplane." "what is he doing to it?" whispered frank. "acts like he was preparing to take a trip in it," was the reply. the words were followed by the rattle of the motors. chapter xvi.--how a cat treed a wolf. smoke still hung over the "burn." now and then it was swept aside by a gust of wind which seemed now to blow out of the east, and so did not come sizzling with the heat of burned forests. the general effect, however, was that of a heavy, stifling fog, and green and frank crept along toward the aeroplane with their hands held out before their faces. the clatter of the motors had ceased, but the tap-tap of steel on steel was faintly heard as they neared the machine. occasionally the worker, whoever he was, ceased his tapping, as if listening. "he's got his nerve with him," frank whispered, as they moved along. "how did he get here?" asked green. "that is the question that is troubling me." presently the two came up so that the figure of the man could be discerned, standing before the bulk of the planes. green sprang forward and seized him by the arm. for an instant it seemed as if the capture would be made without a struggle, then a shot was fired and a crouching figure leaped away. frank saw the forester fall and leaped toward the retreating figure. the race in the darkness, caused by the pall of smoke which followed, was short, for frank was a noted runner and soon overhauled the fugitive. he did not attempt to take hold of the man as he came up. he knew that such a course might mean an unequal contest, for he was only a boy. instead, he dropped to the ground and caught one of the runner's ankles in both hands. naturally the fellow plunged to the ground head-first. he turned quickly and leveled a revolver. there was no warning. the shot came instantly, the bullet passing over the boy's head as he dropped upon the prostrate figure. with the hand which held the weapon held closely to the ground, frank struggled with the fellow for an instant, filling the heavy air with his cries for assistance. the first shot had been heard by the sleepers, and help was at hand immediately. the captive was neatly tied by the light of frank's flashlight, and the foresters gathered about, still rubbing their eyes. the "burn" was not all in darkness all the time, for the glare of the smouldering embers to the west lighted the place fairly well. only for the smoke the ruddy light would have made a pretty good illumination. when the fellow was lifted to his feet an exclamation of astonishment came from the group about him. "sawyer!" some one cried. the prisoner dropped his chin for a moment, as if studying out some difficult proposition, then faced the others sheepishly. "i thought i could get away with it," he said. a cry now came from the men who had hastened to green's assistance. "he's dead, i guess," the voice said. "i didn't shoot to kill," sawyer exclaimed. "he can't be dead." "why did you shoot at all?" demanded one of the rangers, approaching sawyer with threatening fists. "he was in my way," was the sullen reply. "i have always wanted an aeroplane, and i thought this a good time to get one." "did you injure the machine in any way?" asked frank, as sawyer stood gazing furtively from face to face, his black eyes showing fear. "when i found i couldn't get it off," was the reply, "i loosened some of the burrs. it can be repaired easily enough." "that is more than can be said for you, if you have killed green," one of the men declared, shaking a fist at the prisoner. "if he's dead you'll be hauled up on one of these trees." "you wouldn't dare do that!" sawyer cried. "wouldn't we?" cried the other. "you'll see when we know whether he will live or not. how is it, boys?" he continued, stepping toward the spot where green lay. the man bending over green was about to reply when nestor laid a hand on his arm. the boy had been awakened at the first shot and had slipped out of his tent and over to the side of the wounded man, being the first to arrive there. "wait," he said, as the ranger looked up in surprise. "green is not seriously injured," ned went on, "but i want to make that rascal think he is." "what's the idea?" asked the other, glancing from face to face about him. "when he stands under a tree with a rope about his neck," ned said, "he'll tell us the truth about this affair." "he was trying to steal the machine," the other said. "green has a bullet hole through his shoulder," ned said, "but i want you to treat the prisoner as if the shot had been fatal. kindly carry him to his tent." the command was instantly obeyed, for the foresters all knew why ned was there, and understood that he was the personal representative of the secret service chief at washington. ned then called frank aside and spoke a few words in a whisper. the boy grinned and hastened back to the group about sawyer. "nestor wants to talk with sawyer," he explained, "and wants me to take him to his tent." "we'll take him to nestor's tent after we get done with him," declared a burly forester whose face bore many evidences of the hard fight he had made during the fire. "it won't take us long to settle with him." frank spoke a few words to the man and he was one of the first to push the prisoner toward nestor's tent. "if you'll keep those men off me," were sawyer's first words, "i'll tell you what you want to know. they mean to kill me." "i think there is little doubt about that," was ned's reply. "why did you want the aeroplane?" "if you must know," was the reply, "i was sent here to get it, or to wreck it so you couldn't use it." this looked promising, and ned waved a hand at frank. "throw him out here!" came a gruff voice from the crowd. "i won't tell," sawyer went on, "unless you promise to keep them away from me. i didn't mean to kill green, and no court will convict me." "when did you come here?" asked ned. "a month ago," was the reply. "the day you landed in san francisco a man came to my boarding house and employed me." "he mentioned the aeroplane?" "yes, he knew all about it." "treachery in the secret service, eh?" asked ned. "i don't know how he gained his information," was the reply. "he told me that he had secured a job for me in the forest service, and that i was to join the crew in this district." "and steal the aeroplane?" "steal it or wreck it. there are men with the other crews. you would have found an enemy wherever you landed." this was all very amazing, and ned wondered how many pitfalls had been set for him in san francisco. he had no doubt that sawyer was telling the truth. the question was as to whether he would tell the story as it was from that point on. "who was it that engaged you--gave you your instructions?" he asked. "i don't know," was the reply. ned swung his hand again, and a fierce demand that the prisoner should be thrown out arose from the group outside. sawyer shivered and crept out of his camp-chair to nestor's side. his face was deadly pale, being sheltered from the ruddy glow of the fires. just where the men stood outside lay a red lance of light, giving a demon-like look to their rugged faces. "if you don't tell me the truth," ned said, "i can't protect you." "i tell you i don't know," wailed the frightened man. "i had never seen him before. i wanted a job and took what he offered. i didn't think it would be so great a crime to steal or wreck an aeroplane." "what were you to receive for the job?" "one thousand dollars." "hurry up! throw that sneak out!" sawyer, like the coward he was, threw himself down on the floor of the tent and groveled at ned's feet. "you would know the man again?" asked ned. "yes; i can pick him out of a score of men." "you will do this willingly?" "yes; i'm sick of the whole game. i didn't mean to hurt green. i wanted to scare him away so i could get back to my tent without being recognized. that is all i wanted, and i did not mean to hit him at all." there was a great deal more talk between the two. ned soon became convinced that sawyer was a weak man, morally and intellectually, who would be apt to follow the lead of one stronger than himself. after ned had left a guard over the man and visited green--who was doing very well, and laughing over the trick the boy had played on sawyer--he went back to his rough bed, well satisfied with the events of the night. "by the way," frank said, crawling into the tent after assisting in caring for the wounded man, "i don't understand what you mean by saying that you've got a clue which you think will force the man behind the scenes out on the stage, in full view of the audience. if there is such a clue hovering about i haven't become acquainted with it." "the clue is hardly well enough advanced to talk about," ned replied. "but if you've got a line on the leader of this bunch you've won the case," suggested frank. "that is what the government sent me here for," ned replied. "the chief of the secret service expects me to round up the man responsible for the frequent forest fires. i think now that he should have told me that smuggling was going on up here, but he may have had a good reason for not doing so." "you know what mr. green said," frank interrupted. "he said the government officers wanted you to take the case and find out everything for yourself. perhaps they feared that you would pay too much attention to these smugglers, and let the forest fires issue go with scant investigation. they might have arrested the smugglers at any time, you know." "perhaps so," ned replied, "but that wouldn't have brought the manager of the unlawful enterprises into the hands of the law. after all, the secret service men may have been right in sending me up here without instructions or special information. what a laugh they would have had if i had failed to discover the chinamen and the opium." "perhaps they wanted to see if you would discover them," laughed frank. "have you any idea," he added, "that the secret service men knew that you would be followed in here--that the plans of the government regarding your work were known to the outlaws? do you think they knew of the employment of sawyer and the others by the men at the head of the conspiracy?" "no; i hardly think the man who gave me final orders at san francisco knew that all he did was known to the men he was fighting," ned replied. "the head of the bunch put a good one over on him there." "and came near putting one over on you, also," grinned frank. "the aeroplane has been attacked twice already, and others are doubtless waiting to get a crack at it." "they will have to hurry up if they do," ned said, with a chuckle, "and you will have to look out for yourself if they succeed, for i'm going to have you take me to missoula in the morning and then go back and collect the boys." "and not come back here again?" asked frank. "not unless we come back for a pleasure trip," was the reply. "well," frank said, "that pleasure trip idea looks pretty good to me. why not?" "i may have time," ned replied. frank threw himself on the blankets which had been provided by mr. green and closed his eyes, which were still smarting from the effects of the smoke. "if you go away to-morrow," he said, presently, "what is to become of the clues we found in the cavern by the lake?" "all provided for," ned answered. "and all the chinks, and everything you discovered while visiting them in the caves almost under the divide?" "everything provided for," ned said, sleepily. "and you think you can close this case by going to san francisco?" demanded frank, a touch of sarcasm in his tone. "go to sleep, little boy," said ned, in a tantalizing tone. "but do you?" insisted the boy. "of course i do," was the muttered reply. "go to sleep, little man!" and frank tried to obey, but sleep would not come. the fire still smouldered over in the west. the ruddy light of the embers was still touching the camp with its red fingers. the smoke was still asserting itself in the air. the puzzle was still there! after the boy had rolled over at least fifty times, and arose to consult a water bag at least a dozen times, he seated himself under the flap of the tent and looked out. there was a moon now, and the smoke only half hid it. far off in the woods wild creatures were expressing their opinion of the fire and the wanton destruction of their homes. there was a faint rustle in the foliage of the trees east of the "burn." "gee!" the boy muttered. "i'd like to come back here for a month!" then his attention was attracted to the savage growl of some animal in the thicket beyond the fire limit of the "burn." it seemed to the boy as if some man-eating creature had cornered a bit of animate supper, but couldn't reach it. the language used by the forest resident seemed to be in the tongue of the panther. while he listened a cry which was not that of a hungry beast came out of the gloom. that was a cry for help, surely. frank put his revolver and his searchlight into convenient pockets and set out for the scene of the disturbance, without awakening any of the sleepers. it was slow work pushing through the bushes, and the boy wondered if a fire there, well guarded on a quiet day, wouldn't be a good thing. he kept his searchlight ahead and looked about for the source of the noises as he advanced in the darkness. in a short time he heard a voice he knew, but hardly expected to hear there. "hurry up!" the voice said. "i'm goin' to tumble out of this tree in about a minute! i'm that hungry! i thought you might meet me with a pie under one arm." "well, why don't you come down, then?" frank asked. "if you'll turn your honorable attention to that tree to the east," jimmie said, "your excellency will observe a panther waiting for his supper. he's been tracking me all day, getting bolder every minute. now, if i turn this searchlight away for an instant, he'll jump on me, and there you are. no more jimmie mcgraw than a rabbit!" "i didn't see your light at first," frank said, "for it was hidden by the foliage of the trees. i suppose you want me to shoot the cat?" chapter xvii.--the time for the round-up. "sure," jimmie answered. "shoot the cat!" "well, keep your light on him, and wait until i can get where i can see him. the cat frequently resents being wounded." "cripes!" cried jimmie. "don't shoot unless you kill him, for he'll jump at me then for sure. he's angry now--hear him pound with his tail? i fired all my loads at him an' he dodged the bullets." "you couldn't shoot craps!" scorned frank. the panther, a great brute made ferocious by the excitement of the fire, and probably scorched a little, could now be heard moving in the branches of a tree not far from that in which jimmie was perched. in a moment frank reached a point from which the beast's face could be seen. he thought to himself that it looked like a tiger head fastened against a gray cloud with unseen pins. jimmie's searchlight brought the evil face, the cruel eyes, the back-sloping ears, the faintly-moving jaws, out into strong relief, as the circle of flame was only large enough to cover the face. the beast heard frank moving in the bushes below and turned its head to look, at the same time crouching low, as if to spring. the first bullet struck him fair in the throat, the second entered the head just above the eyes, the third, coming so rapidly on the others that the three reports seemed to merge into one, entered the body over the heart. the great beast was dead when the body struck the ground. jimmie was not long in getting down to frank's side and grasping him by the shoulders in a hug which threatened to end in a scuffle. "get away!" frank said. "suppose there's another cat here? if there is he'll get one of us through your foolishness." "there were two," jimmie said, coolly, "but i killed one." "how did you get here?" was the next question, asked as the boys turned toward the camp. "how do you think i got here?" returned jimmie. "walked!" laughed frank. "yes, i walked." jimmie stopped and rubbed his legs with careful hands. "i'm all wore out!" he said. "i can't walk any farther to-night." "all right," frank said, with a grin. "i'll leave you both lights to keep the cats off with, and my gun, and come out after you in the morning after breakfast." "oh, my eats!" jimmie cried. "lead me to something that will sustain life! i'm starving, i tell you." "you walked all the way?" asked frank. "sure! forty miles at least." "where are the others?" "pat, jack and the chink scout? pat came up just before i started, riding on a burro, an' in the custody of a small party of rangers, who thought he had been setting fires. the rangers went into camp over there, all tired out, an' jack an' pat settled down with them. i run away." "they don't know where you are?" asked frank. "nix know!" replied the boy. "but how did you ever get through the burning forest?" asked frank, hardly believing the boy's story of his long walk. "this 'burn' is only a mile wide," jimmie said. "i walked on the south edge of it. say, there are plenty of lives lost! bears, an' cats, an' all that. i guess this will be an agreeable place to live in about a week--not!" the boy was indeed "all in," as he expressed it. he had walked since early morning through a tangled forest black with smoke, through an atmosphere burned and smoked out of its life-giving qualities. and all this exertion in order that he might be near his chum, nestor. fortune had favored the lad, and he had at last blundered on the camp where ned had taken refuge, otherwise he might have died in the forest from hunger and exhaustion, or been devoured by some of the savage beasts which had followed him all day. "where's ned?" jimmie asked, as they stood before the little row of tents. "asleep," was the reply, "and you let him alone for to-night. he's been having a lively time. but how in the name of all that's wonderful did you ever find your way here?" the boy added. "i don't know," was the reply. "i knew that ned would be wherever the fire was, and so started east. not so very long ago i heard a couple of shots, and that directed me toward the camp. who was hurt?" frank explained, briefly, what had taken place, hunted up a liberal meal for the boy, and then saw him settled for the night. ned's astonishment at seeing the boy in the morning may well be imagined. "huh!" jimmie said. "you thought you would fool me out of all the fun!" ned laughed and asked about the others, finally informing jimmie that he was leaving that morning for san francisco by the aeroplane route. "then i'm goin'!" declared the boy. "i'm not goin' to be chucked into the discard again." "you'll have to sit in frank's lap," grinned ned, "and the machine may tip over with such a load, at that." "i guess it didn't tip over when frank and jack an' yours truly run it," jimmie replied. "anyway, i'm goin' with you." before leaving for missoula, where he was to surrender the aeroplane to frank, ned had another long talk with mr. green, whose wound was not so serious as it had been considered the night before. the forester told him what he knew of the men under the leadership of greer, saying that he might have arrested greer at any time during the month, and, what is more, convicted him of smuggling both chinamen and opium over the border. "but what good would it have done?" green went on. "the conspirators in washington, or new york, or san francisco would have chosen another leader, and the game would have gone on as before." "that is very true," ned admitted, "and still, it seems to me that the time to round the fellows up has come!" "do you give that as an order?" asked the other, a flash of excitement showing in his face. "yes," was the reply. "but some of them have gone to portland with the chinks--some to frisco, i think. what about that?" "if you can spare men," ned said, "follow them." "you're on!" laughed green. "i've been waiting for some such orders for a long time. you're on!" "and follow on to frisco as soon as you can," ned continued. "address me, or look for me, if you are able to be about after you get there, at the federal building." "i'll be there in a week," green said, his eyes showing the joy of the coming fight with the outlaws, "and i'll have a bunch of prisoners with me." the forester hesitated a moment, as the importance of the proposed move came to him, then faced ned with a hesitating look. it was plain to the boy that green wanted to ask a question which he believed to be either personal or impertinent. "is there something else?" ned asked. green still hesitated, his eyes on the ground. "are you sure of your clues?" he asked, then. "i think so," was the reply. "because, you see," green went on, "the government doesn't want any trap sprung until the whole bilin' is within reaching distance. after the good work you have done here, i wouldn't like to have you order the round-up and then find that the men you wanted were still out on the range." "thank you for your frankness," ned replied. "i just want to be sure that you are sure," smiled green. "it would mix things for me to make these arrests and have the big ones get away, now, wouldn't it?" "indeed it would," ned admitted, "but i think it is safe to go ahead as we planned a moment ago." "all right!" green said, but there was still doubt in his eyes. "and i'll accept all the responsibility," ned added. "i have a suggestion to make," green said, then. "why not go on to frisco in the aeroplane and ask for instructions? you can make the trip in the airship in no time, but it is a long ride by rail." "i think," ned replied, with a laugh, "that the game will be ripe just about the time i get to frisco by rail. besides, i don't want the outlaws to know that i'm going to the city. they would know it if they saw the aeroplane making for the coast. well, if i leave frank navigating it in this district they will think i am still here. don't you see?" "go it!" laughed green. "i reckon you know what you're about." "anyway," ned said, "i've got to play the game in my own way if i play it at all." "i see," observed green, and the two parted. the aeroplane had not been damaged at all by the fire, but ned went over it carefully before attempting a start. sawyer, trembling with fright, was brought out to show where he had meddled with the machinery. "i didn't harm it any," the prisoner said. "there are some burrs missing," ned said. sawyer brought half a dozen out of a pocket and passed them to ned with a reluctant hand. "i neglected to tell you that i had them in my pocket," he said. "what did green say to you this morning?" asked ned, screwing the burrs on where they were needed. "he says he won't be hard on me, if i tell all i know about the men who are doing these tricks," was the reply. "you told me all you know?" asked ned. "yes, there is nothing else to tell. i'm so glad to think that green is not going to die from the wound i gave him that i'll do everything in my power to bring the men who put me up to this to punishment." "sure you can identify the man who hired you?" "dead certain," was the reply. "then i'll have one of the men bring you to frisco," ned said. "you will be wanted there." "all right; anything the government wants goes!" in half an hour the three boys, ned, frank and jimmie, were on the aeroplane, sailing through the clear air of a splendid summer morning. below they could see the long, narrow strip of land which had been swept by the fires. off to the north was the british frontier, with lake kintla glimmering in the sunshine. "aren't we going back to that lake cavern again?" asked frank. "not just now," ned replied. "i didn't know that you got all you wanted in there," frank went on. "i had an idea that you were trying to identify the man we found dead there." "i think i learned all there was to learn there," ned replied. "he spent a lot of time in there before he went to frisco," jimmie said. "he made me go in there with him, and i didn't like it." "and so no one will ever know who the dead man was?" asked frank. "i have been given a name," ned said, "a name to call him by, but i don't exactly like to accept the information, considering the source from which it came." the aeroplane drifted to the west and north easily under the steady pulse of the motors, and the plateau where jimmie had left the boys and the foresters was soon in sight. "i wonder if they're all alive?" said jimmie. "what could happen to them?" demanded frank. "oh," jimmie replied, with biting sarcasm, "there is nothing here to harm 'em! this is a pink tea, this is! this is a church fair, where you get ices made out of the cream they skim off the cistern!" "you're getting nutty!" frank said, with a grin. "when i left 'em," jimmie went on, "the boys an' the foresters were wondering if the outlaws would come back an' kill 'em one by one or just blow up the caves underneath the plateau an' send 'em up in the air without any good means of gettin' down." "then we'll look them up," ned said. the great divide lay down below, and the plateau was in plain sight, with the early sunshine streaming over it. when the aeroplane circled about it a shout came up to ned's ears, then a shot, and the powder smoke drifted lazily upward in the clear air. "somethin' doin'!" jimmie cried. "suppose we go down an' see." chapter xviii.--two inanimate witnesses. it was very still in the bachelor apartment, and, as on the occasion of his previous visit, nestor saw, as he slipped through the doorway leading from the private hall, that the lights were burning low. on this night there was no opium-drugged victim lying on the couch. there was a movement in the room beyond, and ned could hear the soft tread of slippered feet and occasionally the rattle of dishes. it was evident that midnight luncheon was being prepared, and that the master of the habitation would soon be on hand. closing the door softly--the same having been opened with a skeleton key--ned stepped across the room to the writing desk which he had examined on that other night. after searching the half-open drawer for an instant, he took out a number of papers and examined them. he also took a check-book out and put it into a pocket. the papers he returned to the desk. the check-book was an old one, there being few blank checks in the binding, but plenty of stubs. then ned looked at the lock of the desk. it had been out of repair at his previous visit, but was in excellent shape now. he removed the new key and inserted the one with the broken stem which had so excited the interest of albert lemon and jap on occasion of his previous visit. the key with the broken stem did not fit. a new lock had been put on. next ned went to a mantel over a gas grate and lifted the cover from a little ivory box which stood there. at the very bottom of the box, under buttons, pins, needles, and odds and ends, he found a key. this one was whole, and it was an exact duplicate of the one with the broken stem. ned had been in san francisco three days, and jimmie was not far away. on bringing the aeroplane to the plateau on the day of his return to missoula he had found ernest whipple, jack, pat, liu, and a small party of rangers anxiously awaiting him. also "several tough ones waitin' for an introduction," as jimmie put it. it seems that the fake foresters had returned to the cave after the fire in the cañon had burned itself out and had at once discovered that the prisoner had vanished, also that liu, the chinese boy, had disappeared with him. there had been a long search for the missing boys, as the outlaws knew very well that the escape meant the bringing of officers to the caves, but they had not been discovered until a short time before the arrival of the aeroplane. when ned reached the plateau--in fact, before he reached it--he heard the whistling of bullets aimed at the big bird. the outlaws were trying to cripple the aeroplane and so give the riders a tumble. the boys landed in safety, however, and joined the others. seeing the boys thus reinforced, the outlaws had withdrawn, and the rangers had conducted them to a pass which led over the divide. so it was that ned had left them, making their way down toward the valley of the wild animals, where a large number of rangers were encamped, and where frank was to come for them with the aeroplane as soon as ned landed at missoula. there were numerous shots fired at the aeroplane as it mounted into the sky again, but no harm was done. "if they had been shootin' at that cat last night," jimmie said, in derision, "they would 'a' been eaten alive." "they are nervous," frank said, "and don't dare come out of their hiding places so as to get a good sight at us. they are afraid of the rangers, and afraid that we'll drop a bomb or something of that sort down on them." this explanation of the bad marksmanship, as well as the failure of the outlaws to rush the aeroplane, was accepted by the boys, who had anticipated a fight with the fellows. it was afterwards learned, too, that there were only half a dozen outlaws in the group, and that they had been sent back to guard the caves and not to fight rangers unless they were attacked. ned had been very busy since his return to the city, having made many inquiries concerning albert lemon and his servant, the japanese attendant who had given the boy such a chilly reception on the night of the first visit. lemon, he had been informed, was a millionaire of eccentric habits. according to ned's source of information, he would absent himself from his usual haunts for days at a time, and would then return to shut himself up in his rooms, at home to no one, and attended only by jap. after a time the clatter of dishes grew louder in the adjoining room, giving notice, doubtless, that the luncheon being prepared was nearly ready to serve. then the boy seated himself behind a screen which cut off a corner of the room and waited. he had occupied his retreat only a short time when a key turned in the door and the man he had talked with on his first visit entered. it was not the old, half-dazed, disreputable lemon who stepped into the room, but a young man handsomely dressed and evidently very wide awake and in the best of spirits. after seeing that the window shades were closely drawn he turned on the lights and dropped into a chair at the writing desk. ned saw him rummage the pigeon-holes for a moment, extract a folded paper, and fall to checking off the items. the boy had examined this sheet while at the desk, and so knew what it contained. after checking the items the man drew out a long pocket-book and placed its contents on the writing board. the boy gave a quick start when he saw what the book had contained, for a large package of yellow-back bank notes lay exposed to view. the man counted them carefully, compared the total with the figures he had marked on the sheet, and then sat back in his chair with a satisfied smile on his face. "everything correct!" he said. then he lighted a cigar and turned to the door opening into the inner room. "jap!" he called softly. "oh, jap!" the door opened and the servant looked in. "come here!" lemon commanded. "what have you been doing?" he added, as the jap stood before him. "nothing," was the reply. "you are not telling the truth," lemon said. "you have been seen about the city, in tea houses, talking with strangers." "i have not been out of the rooms," the other insisted, stubbornly. "let it pass," lemon said, in a moment. "there may be some mistake. any one been here?" "no one." the servant appeared to have a perfect knowledge of english. he looked into his master's face with a bland smile, but now and then his eyes sought the screen behind which ned was hidden. "well, some of the boys will be up here to-night," lemon said. "see that there is plenty to eat. go, now." the servant turned to the door opening into the private hall, stood with his hand on the knob for an instant, and then, apparently changing his mind, went out through the doorway by which he had entered. if lemon had been listening intently he would have heard a quick movement in the back room as jap closed the door. in a moment there was another movement in the private hall, and then ned heard the corridor door open. he pushed the screen aside and stepped out before the astonished occupant of the rooms. "what does this mean?" lemon demanded, a quiver of excitement--or it might have been consternation--in his voice. while he spoke he moved toward a table where a revolver lay in full view. "never mind that," ned said, coolly. "we can arbitrate our differences without its assistance. besides, it is not loaded." "what are you doing here?" lemon almost shouted, his face growing white, either with rage or fear. "leave the room immediately." ned dropped into a chair and motioned toward another. "sit down!" he ordered. "your impudence is amazing," lemon said, but he took the chair. in a moment, however, he turned to the door. "jap!" he called. again the door opened and the servant looked in. "are you armed?" lemon asked. the servant nodded, fixing a pair of inscrutable eyes on ned's face as he did so. "very well," was the reply. "stand there by the door. how did this man gain entrance here?" the only reply was a shrug of the shoulders. "let it pass for the present," lemon said, with a smile of triumph. "stand there and shoot when i give the word." the servant nodded again. ned remained seated, his eyes fixed coolly on the face of the master. "now, what do you want?" demanded lemon. "you don't look exactly like a common sneak thief." "you doubtless remember," ned began, in a level voice, "that i did myself the honor of calling at these rooms not long ago in quest of information of one--of one felix emory?" lemon started at the name, but gained confidence as he glanced toward the servant at the door. "yes, i remember," he said. "what about it?" there was a sharp ring at the corridor door before ned spoke again. the jap looked inquiringly at his master. "company may prove of value just now," lemon said. "will you see who is there?" it was clear to ned that lemon expected some of the associates he had mentioned as "the boys" when giving instructions about the luncheon, and there was a smile of welcome on his face when a bustle in the hall told of an arrival. there was only one man, however, and lemon at first seemed disappointed, but in a moment he had his face under perfect control again. "father!" he cried, springing to his feet. "it is good to see you here!" the newcomer, a man of perhaps sixty, well dressed and with the air of a man to whom marked attention was due, stood looking into lemon's face for an instant and then grasped his hand. "you have changed little, my son," he said. lemon smiled and indicated ned with a slight motion of the hand. "permit me to present to you my father, mr. leon lemon," he said, "and this, father, is a boy burglar who broke into my rooms in quest of plunder a short time ago," he added. "we were having quite a cheerful talk when you came. i don't know his name, unfortunately." the old gentleman gave a start and attempted to rise from his chair. "don't distress yourself," lemon said. "he is quite harmless. besides, jap has him covered with the cannon he delights to carry." "this is a strange situation," the other said, wiping the sweat of excitement from his face. "one of the incidents which add to the joy of life," lemon said. "you remember felix emory?" he added. "well, his pretense for this call is that he came to ask about him. go ahead, mr. burglar." "perhaps you will also remember," ned went on, "that on my former visit here i exhibited a key with a broken stem--the key to that writing desk?" lemon's face hardened and he glanced furtively at the servant, but said not a word. "this key," ned said, producing the one mentioned, "was found in the pocket of the man who was found dead in the rocky mountains. you think you left it in the suit of clothes you gave emory?" "possibly," was the strained reply. "but we have had enough of this," lemon added. "call the police, jap." "just a moment," ned went on, when the jap moved toward the door. "when you could not find the key, mr. lemon, why didn't you use the duplicate. the duplicate you kept in the box on the shelf? why did you think it necessary to break the lock?" "the servant did that," was the angry reply. "i see," ned replied, coolly, "perhaps that was done while you were up in the mountains with emory--before he was killed?" "possibly," lemon gritted out. "now, since talking with you," ned continued, "i have been up in the mountains. there i found a man using a typewriter. by the way, have you a machine here?" "certainly not," was the angry reply. "but you formerly used one here?" "never!" was the reply. "that is strange," ned said, "for when i came in here not long ago i took the liberty of looking through some papers in your desk, for which i ask your pardon. well, i discovered that the machine you used here carried a defective letter 'c.' it looked in the writing like an 'o.' the machine the man was using under the divide had the same defect. if you will observe the sheet you were examining a few moments ago, you will note the imperfect letter." lemon's teeth clinked together sharply, but he did not speak. "when i came here last," ned continued, "you lay in an opium stupor on that couch. you had recently returned from a trip to lake kintla, where emory was found dead. while in that section you visited a cavern on the eastern slope of the divide. there is where you used the typewriter taken from these rooms." "my son never learned the keyboard," said the old gentleman, an angry snap in his eyes. "he has never found it necessary to earn money." lemon turned to the old man and bowed, gratefully. "when you lay on the couch that night," ned continued, "there was the smear of the typewriter on the middle finger of your left hand, close to the nail. i use a double keyboard machine myself, and sometimes smut my finger on the ribbon when i turn the platen. some papers i chanced upon in the mountains bear the mark of a smudged hand. you are careless in using the machine. you even left a blue record ribbon in the cave headquarters where the dead man was found. that was my first valuable clue!" "what papers did you steal while in the mountains?" demanded lemon, springing to his feet, his face deadly white, his fists swinging aimlessly in the air. "lists," ned replied. "lists of chinamen brought from over the border, and lists of opium cases smuggled in. i have the papers in my possession now. they match with the statement you examined just before i made my appearance in the room--just before you counted the money you received from this illegal traffic." the old man leaped at ned, but the boy moved away and stood by the door. the jap stepped closer. there came a sound of whispering, a noise of footsteps, from the hall outside. then the door was opened and greer, slocum, chang chee and two others entered, glancing keenly at ned as they passed him, still standing by the door. "do you mean to accuse my son of crime?" shouted the old man, not noticing the new-comers in his rage and excitement. "you scoundrel!" "how do you know," ned asked, with a smile at the others, "that this man is albert lemon, your son?" chapter xix.--the man behind the scenes. "not my son!" shouted the old man. "this has gone quite far enough! jap, call the police, and order this mad youngster taken away." the younger man broke into a harsh laugh and turned to those who had just entered. slocum and chang chee were whispering together, and a dangerous looking knife showed in the hand of the false ranger. "you hear what father says, boys," lemon said. "remember that." "what is this kid doing here, anyway?" demanded slocum. "he came here, evidently, for the purpose of blackmailing me," lemon said. "he has papers stolen from the mountains--lists, he says they are--and they should be taken from him by force." slocum and chang chee started toward the boy, but he waved them back with his hand. "i will lay the papers on the table," he said. "you are quite welcome to them for the present." "i'll take him down to the police station," said chang. "he ought not to be at large. come, youngster." "you seem to be able to talk pretty good english now," laughed ned. "much better than the slang you gave out in the mountains." "come!" shouted the chinaman. "you are here alone, so there is no need of a fight. come along!" "we'll see about my being here alone presently," ned said. "anyhow, i'd better be here alone than with any one of you in the dark streets. i should be murdered before a block was passed. that is what you came to frisco for, to murder me--just as the man in the lake cavern was murdered." those in the room looked at each other and remained silent. there was a tense moment, when every person there seemed gathering for a spring, when the lust of blood seemed in every glaring eye, but it passed. "where are the chinamen you brought away from the british border?" asked ned of chang chee. "are they in this city? oh," he continued, as chang glared at him, "we knew that you were about to bring in a batch. you usually light forest fires in order to attract the attention of the rangers when you get ready to unload a band of chinese on uncle sam. that is doyers street cunning, chang!" "you see," he went on, "we have had the good luck to discover why the forests in northern idaho and montana have been set on fire so frequently. i don't care to say what i think of the wisdom of your course in so attempting to hide your movements, except that it attracted attention instead of diverting it. you firebugs might have been arrested long ago," he continued, turning to slocum, "but it was thought best to wait until the head center of the whole conspiracy was in the hands of the law. now that this has been accomplished, i may speak." the people standing around the boy looked into each other's faces, and there was a movement as if to draw weapons. "permit me to congratulate you on the discovery of the leader of the outlaws," the old man said with a snarl. "perhaps you will be kind enough to give us his name?" "there are no objections that i know of," was the reply. "his name is felix emory. you may have heard of him." "an old acquaintance of my son albert," the old man said. "that is the name of the man who was so mysteriously murdered in the kintla lake cave," slocum observed. "why do you place the crime on the dead?" "felix emory," ned said, "is not dead. he is alive at this moment--alive and in this room!" the young man broke into a jarring laugh and turned to the old man. "you remember the strange resemblance between felix and myself," he said. "well, it seems to have deceived this clever young man. by the way, slocum, why don't you take the lad to the police station? we have no more time for him here." slocum and another sprang forward, but ned opened the door with a quick motion and stood beyond their reach. "the man found dead in the cave," the boy said, facing the old man, "had met with an accident in his youth. the first joint of the little finger of the right hand was missing. also, there was a scar over his left eye--a trifling scar, made with a knife in the hands of a playmate. do you recall these marks of identification, mr. lemon?" he added. the old man threw his hands to his face and stood silent for a moment while the others looked on in perplexed silence. when he uncovered his face again he stepped forward to the man he had called his son on entering the room. "let me see your hands, albert," he said, kindly. "bend down so i can see the scar on your forehead!" "step aside, you old fool!" the young man cried, pushing the old man back rudely. "we have had enough of this, boys," he continued, turning to the others. "the game is up unless we get rid of this dotard and this boy. why don't you get busy?" the old man dropped into a chair and lifted his face to ned's. "you found my son murdered?" he asked. "then this man felix emory stands in his shoes! even i was deceived by him! why, he has been calling upon me for large sums of money during the past month. he has taken possession of my boy's rooms. was it this man emory who killed him?" "we believe so," was the reply. "the proof is within reaching distance." "out with them both!" shouted emory. "your son albert took this man in and tried to do something for him," ned went on, "and was robbed and murdered for his pains. this man emory was the leader of this choice band of smugglers and firebugs when he came to your son. the band was on the point of scattering because the officers were close on their track. they needed a man well up in the world--a man against whom the breath of suspicion had never been blown--to represent them in the opium market and the smuggled chinamen market. they sent this man emory to your son with a proposition, and he turned him down. then they parted. but albert knew too much and so he was lured to the woods and killed, and emory stood before the world as your son. it was a devilish plot, great wealth being the object. if you will look at the stubs in this check-book you will see the difference in the hand-writing." "i rather admire your nerve, boy," slocum said to ned. "you've got the right kind of courage to stand up here and tell all this to us. you know very well that we can never let you go out of this place alive? that even this old man must suffer for your bit of foolish daring?" "i'd like to have the training of that kid for a few years," chang said. "i could beat the world with him!" "well, you all know what we've got to do," emory said, angrily. "we've got to get rid of the boy and this old man. if we do not, there is an end of a rather profitable business. besides, with albert lemon dead, i become his heir, with no possible chance of being identified as felix emory." "you devil!" shouted the old man. "you murderer!" enraged by the exclamation, emory made a rush for the old man, but was stopped by a voice from the doorway opening into the rear room. "that'll be all for you!" the voice said. it was jimmie who stood in the doorway, smiling, and making about the worst bow a boy scout ever made. "don't wiggle about so, gentlemen," he added, "for the men behind this partition have you all covered with repeating rifles, and some of them are nervous. stand still while a friend of mine presents you with wristlets." jap turned and faced the frightened group and then pointed to the wall, near the ceiling, where a line of two-inch holes were seen, at each hole a shining eye. "you see," he said, "i cut those holes there to-night, so the boys wouldn't have to lie hidden under the furniture. there's a gun behind every one of them. and now, with your permission--" jimmie passed out a bunch of clattering, ringing handcuffs, and jap slipped them on the wrists of the prisoners. as he did so frank came dashing into the room, swinging his cap aloft. ernest, jack, pat and liu were there, too, overjoyed at the great victory. "wow!" he cried. "here's a wire saying that the bunch was captured at portland to-night, and another from missoula says the men left in the caverns were caught yesterday. i have the honor to report, mr. sherlock holmes nestor," he added, with a low bow, "that the round-up is complete." "our day will come directly," emory shouted. "you haven't a word of proof against any of us. your story sounds all right here, but wait until you get into court. our lawyers will pick your yarn apart like a rag doll. and you, jap," he went on, turning to the servant, "when did you turn against me?" "there have been two instances of false personation in this case," ned said. "you, emory, personated albert lemon, whom you murdered, and you, jap, personated the servant emory brought here after he had seen you carried out of the rooms for dead." "then that isn't my servant at all?" asked emory. "i was in the employ of albert lemon," answered the jap, "when you took him away and killed him. when you came back from the mountains you caused me to be drugged and killed, as you supposed. but your servant hesitated in the work. he finally turned against you, and permitted me to come here in his stead. it was he who disclosed the hiding place of the duplicate key. he told me, and i told mr. nestor." "it is all a blackmailing conspiracy!" cried emory. "when mr. nestor came back to the city, three days ago," the servant went on, "i was told by the man i was personating in these rooms that the whole plot was known. he said that mr. nestor knew that you were not albert lemon, also that i, albert lemon's servant, still lived. i didn't have much to tell him when he came to me, but i told him all i knew." "and you let him search my rooms?" cried emory. "of course," was the cool reply. "he has everything required to send you to the gallows for the murder of albert lemon, and everything necessary in the case against the smugglers and firebugs, too. he found emory's servant," he added, facing the father, "in a japanese tea house, and brought him here to me after the closing scene was set for to-night. you may talk with him if you want to. he can tell you how the murder of your son was planned, also how the plot to kill mr. nestor in the mountains was laid--here in these rooms." again the old man sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. it was a severe blow to him. he had arrived in san francisco that day, anticipating a pleasant month with his son. and now to find him dead! "it would be interesting," said slocum, speaking for the first time since the arrests, "to know just how this remarkable boy discovered the connection between this flat and the mountain caves." "the murder brought the clue," ned replied. "from the first the clue led here. and then the key without a stem, the smudge on emory's finger, the typewritten sheets, the machine in the mountains--oh, it was all easy enough after the discovery that this man emory did not know where albert lemon kept his duplicate key to that desk! "the case is ended," ned continued, "and all the parties wanted by the law are under arrest, so, if you don't mind, gentlemen, i'll go to bed!" jack, pat, ernest and liu now advanced into the room and looked smilingly at their leader. "you can't lose us," jack said. "if you don't mind, we'll take you back to the rocky mountains for a little fun with the aeroplane. i guess there won't be any bold bad smugglers up there to distract our attention for a few weeks." "and then," jimmie cut in, "i hope you'll all go back to little old new york. i'm hungry and thirsty, and sleepy for a walk down the good old bowery and the wise old white way!" the case against felix emory was so complete that he pleaded guilty on being arraigned in court and was sentenced to the gallows. chang received a long sentence for his connection with the murder, and the smugglers and firebugs were sent to prison for ten years each. the clean-up was so complete that ned was requested to visit washington and confer with the secret service chief regarding other cases. "but, after all," he said, on leaving jimmie and the other boys, including ernest and liu, in new york, "i don't think i want any more fighting forest fires assignments in the secret service. we'll go back some day and look over the ground, but i don't think i'll ever be able to get some of those rides in the air out of my mind." the end. best books--now ready oliver optic series for a full generation the youth of america has been reading and re-reading "oliver optic." no genuine boy ever tires of this famous author who knew just what boys wanted and was always able to supply his wants. books are attractively bound in art shades of english vellum cloth, three designs stamped in three colors. printed from large type on an extra quality of clean flexible paper. each book in glazed paper wrapper. mo cloth. all aboard brave old salt boat club, the fighting joe haste and waste hope and have in school and out little by little now or never outward bound poor and proud rich and humble sailor boy, the soldier boy, the try again watch and wait work and win the yankee middy the young lieutenant always ask for the donohue complete editions and you will get the best for the least money all of the above books may be had at the store where this book was bought, or will be sent postpaid at c per copy by the publishers m. a. donohue & co. - s. dearborn st., chicago always ask for the donohue complete editions and you will get the best for the least money thrilling, interesting, instructive books by harry castlemon no boy's library is complete unless it contains all of the books by that charming, delightful writer of boys' stories of adventure, harry castlemon. the following are the titles, uniform in size, style and binding: boy trapper, the frank the young naturalist frank in the woods frank on the lower mississippi frank on a gunboat frank before vicksburg frank on the prairie frank at don carlos ranch the first capture struggle for a fortune, a winged arrows medicine all of the above books may be had at the store where this book was bought, or will be sent postage prepaid at c each, by the publishers. m. a. donohue & co., - s. dearborn street, chicago ask your bookseller for the donohue complete editions and you will get the best for the least money always ask for the donohue complete editions--the best for least money woodcraft for boy scouts and others by owen jones and marcus woodman with a message to boy scouts by sir baden-powell, founder of the boy scouts' movement. one of the essential requirements of the boy scout training is a knowledge of woodcraft. this necessitates a book embracing all the subjects and treating on all the topics that a thorough knowledge of woodcraft implies. this book thoroughly exhausts the subject. it imparts a comprehensive knowledge of woods from fungus growth to the most stately monarch of the forest; it treats of the habits and lairs of all the feathered and furry inhabitants of the woods. shows how to trail wild animals; how to identify birds and beasts by their tracks, calls, etc. tells how to forecast the weather, and in fact treats on every phase of nature with which a boy scout or any woodman or lover of nature should be familiar. the authorship guarantees its authenticity and reliability. indispensable to "boy scouts" and others. printed from large clear type on superior paper. embellished with over thumb nail illustrations taken from life. bound in cloth. stamped with unique and appropriate designs in ink. price, c postpaid m. a. donohue & co. - s. dearborn st., chicago the boy scouts of the air on lost island by gordon stuart contents i over the dam ii a hopeless search iii lost island iv more thrills v a startling clew vi to the rescue! vii the flying eagle scouts viii a voyage in the dark ix a rescue that failed x "to-morrow is the day!" xi a mid-air miracle xii an empty rifle shell xiii the game begins xiv patching the "skyrocket" xv a wild night xvi tricked again! xvii the big play xviii a close finish the boy scouts of the air on lost island chapter i over the dam three boys stood impatiently kicking the dew off the tall grass in ring's back yard, only pausing from their scanning of the beclouded, dawn-hinting sky to peer through the lightening dusk toward the clump of cedars that hid the fulton house. "he's not up yet, or there'd be a light showing," grumbled the short, stocky one of the three. "humph--it's so late now he wouldn't be needing a light. tod never failed us yet, frank, and he told me last night that he'd be right on deck." "we'd ought to have gone down right off, jerry, when we saw he wasn't here. frank and i would have stopped off for him, only we was so sure he'd be the first one here--especially when you two were elected to dig the worms." "we dug the worms last night--a lard pail half full--down back of his cabbage patch. and while we were sitting on the porch along comes his father--you know how absent-minded he is--and reaches down into the bucket and says, 'guess i'll help myself to some of your berries, boys.'" "bet you that's why tod isn't here, then." "why, frank ellery, seventh son of a seventh son? coming so early in the morning, your short-circuit brain shockers make us ordinary folks dizzy. this double-action----" "double-action nothing, dave thomas! i heard mr. fulton tell tod yesterday he was to pick four quarts of blackberries and take them over to your aunt jen. tod forgot, and so his dad wouldn't let him go fishing, that's all." "sun's up," announced jerry ring. "so's tod!" exclaimed dave thomas, who had climbed to the first high limbs of a near-by elm and now slid suddenly down into the midst of the piled-up fishing paraphernalia. "i just saw him coming in from the berry patch--here he comes now." a lanky, good-natured looking sixteen-year-old boy, in loose-fitting overalls and pale blue shirt open at the throat, came loping down the path. "gee, fellows," he panted, "i expect you're cussing mad--but i _had_ to pick those berries before i went, and it took me so long to grouch out the green ones after it got light." "i see you brought the very greenest one of all along," observed dave dryly. "oh, you here, too, little one?" as if seeing him for the first time. "i didn't know kindergarten was closed for the day. i make one guess who tipped over the bait can." "ask frank," suggested dave with pretended weariness; "he's got second sight." "don't need second sight to see that worm crawling up your pants leg. we going to stand here all day! i move we get a hike on down to the boat. maybe we can hitch on behind steve porter's launch--he's going up past dead tree point--and that'll save us the long pull through the slough." the boys picked up the great load of luggage, which was not so big when divided among four boys, and hustled out of the ring yard and down the dusty road. they were four of a size; that is, tod fulton was tall and somewhat flattened out, while frank ellery was more or less all in a bunch, as jerry said, who was himself sturdily put together. dave thomas was neither as tall as tod nor as stocky as frank; he looked undersized, in fact. but his "red hair and readier tongue," his friends declared, more than made up for any lack of size. at any rate, no one ever offered a second time to carry the heaviest end of the load. now, as they walked along through the back streets of watertown, rightly named as it was in the midst of lakes, creeks and rivers, they began a discussion that never grew old with them. tod began it. "we've got plenty of worms, for once." "good!" cried dave. "i've thought of a dandy scheme, but it'd take a pile of bait." "what's that?" asked jerry, suspecting mischief. "you know, you can stretch out a worm to about three inches. tie about a hundred together--allow an inch apiece for the knot--that would make two hundred inches, or say seventeen feet. put the back end of the line about a foot up on the bank and the other end out in the water. along comes a carp--the only fish that eats _worms_--and starts eating. he gets so excited following up his links of worm-weenies, that he doesn't notice he's up on shore, when suddenly tod fulton, mighty fisherman, grabs him by the tail and flips him----" "yes--where does he flip him?" tod had dropped his share of the luggage and now had dave by the back of the neck. "back into the water and makes him eat another string of worms as punishment for being a carp." "you with your old dead minnows!" exclaimed tod, giving dave a push that sent him staggering. "last time we went, all you caught was a dogfish and one starved bullhead. there's more real fish that'll bite on worms than on any other bait. i've taken trout and even black bass. early in the morning i can land pickerel and croppies where a minnow or a frog could sleep on the end of a six pounder's nose. don't tell me." "yes," put in jerry, "and i can sit right between the two of you and with my number two skinner and a frog or a bacon rind pull 'em out while you fellows go to sleep between nibbles." "bully!" exclaimed frank. "every time we go home after a trip, you hang a sign on your back: 'fish for sale,' with both s's turned backwards. i'm too modest to mention the name of the boy who caught the largest black bass ever hooked in plum run, but i can tell you the kind of fly the old boy took, all the same." "testimony's all in," laughed tod, good-humoredly. "and here we are at the dock of the 'big four.'" "yes, and there goes porter up around the bend. we row our boat to-day. we ought to get up a show or something and raise enough money to buy a motor." "i move we change our plans and leave round lake for another trip." it was lazy frank who made the proposal. "what difference does it make to you? you never row anyway. plum run's too high for anything but still fishing----" "i saw hunky doran coming back from parry's dam day before yesterday and he had a dandy string." "sure. he always does. bet you he dopes his bait," declared tod. "well, you spit on the worm yourself. the dam isn't half as far as dead tree, and, besides, we can always walk across to grass lake. jerry votes for the dam, don't you, jerry?" but jerry only shrugged his shoulders. frank and tod always disagreed on fishing places, largely because their styles of angling were different and consequently a good place for one was the poorest place in the world for the other. so jerry, who usually was the peacemaker, said nothing but unlocked the padlock which secured the boat, tossed the key-ring to dave with, "open the boathouse and get two pair of oars. tod, take a squint at the sun--five-thirty, isn't it? an hour and a half to the dead tree, and an hour more to round lake. what kind of fish can you take in old roundy after eight o'clock?" "oh, i knew we were going to the dam, all right. i give in. but if i've got to go where i don't want to, i'm going to have the boat to fish from." "as if you didn't always have it!" snorted frank. "the only one who fishes in one place all day, but he's got to have the boat--and forgets himself and walks right off it the minute he gets a real bite. huh!" tod paid no attention to this insult. he and jerry settled in their places at the oars, with frank at the stern for ballast, and dave up ahead to watch the channel, for plum run, unbelievably deep in places, had a trick of shallowing at unlikely spots. more than once had the _big four_ had her paint scraped off by a jagged shelf of rock or shoal. they were all in their places, the luggage stowed away, and frank was ready to push away from the dock, when he raised his hand and said instead: "understand me, boys, i'm the last one in the world to kick--you know me. but there's one request i have to make of you before the push of my fingers cuts us off from the last trace of civilization." "'sw'at?" cried the three. "when we have embarked upon this perilous voyage, let no mournful note swell out upon the breeze, to frighten beasts and men--and fish--into believing that dave thomas is once more _trying_ to sing!" immediately a mournful yowling began in the bow of the boat, growing louder as they drew away from shore. and then, amid the laughter of his three companions, dave ended his wail and instead broke into a lively boating song, the others joining in at the chorus. for dave's singing was a source of pride to his friends. so, dave singing lustily and tod and jerry tugging at the oars in time with the music, they swung away from the dock and out in the center channel of plum run, a good hundred yards from shore. once in the current, they swung straight ahead down stream. before long the last house of watertown, where people were fast beginning to stir, had faded from view. they passed safely through the ripples of the shoals above barren island, a great place for channel cat when the water was lower. through the west branch they steered, holding close to the island shore, for while the current was slower, at least the water was deeper and safer. a mile-long stretch of smooth rowing lay ahead of them now, after which they entered goose slough, narrow and twisty, with half-hidden snags, and sudden whirlpools. more than one fishing party had been capsized in its treacherous quarter mile of boiling length. then came a so-called lake, old grass, with the real grass lake barely visible through its circle of trees. a crystal-clear creek was its outlet to plum run, a thousand gleaming sunfish and tiny bass flashing through its purling rapids or sulking in deep, dark pools. there was good fishing in grass lake, but waist-high marsh grass, saw-edged, barred the way for nearly half a mile. but just ahead of them plum run had widened out once more to real river size, its waters penned back by concrete, rock and timber dam, with parry's mill on the east bank. "land me on the other side, above the big cottonwood," decided frank. "there's a weedy little bight up there where i predict a two-pound bass in twenty minutes." "i'll try the stretch just below, working toward the dam, i guess. how about you, jerry!" asked dave. "i'll stay with the boat awhile, i reckon. where away, boatman?" "dam," grunted tod. "not swearing, i take it?" inquired jerry. "no--fishing there." dave and frank were dropped out at the cottonwood, where they were soon exchanging much sage advice concerning likely spots and proper bait. jerry and tod chuckled as they rowed away. tod himself was keen on still fishing with worms or grubs; he liked to sit and dream while the bait did the work; but his quarreling with dave and frank was mostly make-believe. jerry, the best fisherman of the four, believed, as he said, in "making the bait fit the fish's mouth." his tackle-box held every kind of hook and lure; his steel rod and multiple reel were the best timkin's sporting goods store in town could furnish; they had cost him a whole summer's savings. tod rather laughed at jerry's equipment. his own cheap brass reel and jointed cane pole, with heavy linen line, was only an excuse. throw-lines with a half dozen hooks were his favorites, and a big catfish his highest aim. as soon as the boat hit the dam he began getting out his lines. jerry jumped lightly over the bow. "shall i tie you up?" he called over his shoulder. "never mind, jerry. i think i'll work in toward the shore a bit first, and, anyway, she can't drift upstream." so jerry went on his way out toward the middle of the dam. it was really a monstrous affair, that dam. the old part was built on and from solid rock, being really a jutting out of a lime stone cliff which had stood high and dry before the water had been dammed up by the heavy timber cribs cutting across the original stream. concrete abutments secured these timbers and linked the walls of stone with the huge gates opening into the millrace that fed the water to the ponderous undershot millwheel. just now the gates were open and the water rushed through with deafening force. jerry made his way across the stonework section, having a hard time in the water-worn crevices, slimed over with recent overflows, for when the millgates were closed, plum run thundered over this part of the dam in a spectacular waterfall. he had hardly reached the flat concrete before he noticed that the roar from the millrace had ceased; the gates had been closed. all the better; this part of the river was shallow; when the water rose, big fish would be coming in to scour over the fresh feeding grounds. so he moved a little nearer shore and quickly trimmed his lines. he heard a hail from the bank as he made his first cast. it was from dave. "mind if i come out and try my luck beside you?" "not at all. water's coming up fast. best try some grubs or worms, though. no good for minnows here now." "sure," agreed dave, settling comfortably beside him. "water sure is filling up, isn't she? guess the miller of the dee dropped a cogwheel into his wheat." "not wishing anybody any bad luck, but i hope they don't start up again all day. this'll be a backwater as soon as the current starts going over the dam. another six inches--say! look at tod. if he isn't fishing right above the flume. wonder if he's noticed." "noticed? he's got a bite, that's what! look at him bending to it. it's a big one, you bet. golly, did you see that!" "i see more than that," exclaimed jerry grimly, dropping his precious pole and starting across the slippery rocks on the run. "if he doesn't get out of there in about thirty seconds, he's going over the dam!" but just as jerry mounted the last clump of rocks, just as dave's desperate shouts had aroused tod to a realization of his danger,--something happened. you have watched a big soap bubble swelling the one last impossible breath; you have seen a camp coffee kettle boiling higher and higher till _splush!_ the steaming brown mass heaves itself into the fire--the bending, crowding mile-wide surface of plum creek found a sudden outlet. and right in the center of that outlet was a plunging tiny boat. "help!" rang out one choked-off cry, as in a great rush of suddenly foaming flood, over the dam plunged a boat and a terrorized boy. chapter ii a hopeless search in the brief instant that jerry stood on the slippery point of rock he had the queer feeling that it was all a horrible dream, or at least only an impossible scene from a motion picture. where a boat had been a second before was now only a seething, tossing down-tumbling wall of brownish foam. but his stunned inaction was quickly gone. down to the very edge of the flood he raced, almost losing his balance and toppling in. at a dangerous angle he leaned over and peered into the churning water-pit below. dave had come hurrying to his side, to miss his footing at the last and plunge waist-deep into the current. a precious moment was lost in rescuing him. when, both safe on the rocky ledge, they turned to scan the depths of the fall, it was to see a dark object suddenly pop up full fifty feet downstream. it was the boat--but no tod. "did you see it!" cried jerry excitedly. "didn't it look like something blackish in the bottom of the boat?" "she's full of water, that's all. tod's down there under the fall. he's drowned, i tell you! what shall we do? what shall we do!" excitable dave was fast losing his head. "come on!" shouted jerry, aroused by the helplessness of his companion. "we've got to get to the mill and have them turn the water through the race. then we've got to get a boat out there--quick!" but he had not waited for dave. across the river just below the dam was a house. if there was a telephone there--jerry knew there was one at the mill--something might yet be done in time. there was of course no way of reaching the mill itself across that raging torrent. there _was_ a telephone at the house, but it seemed hours after jerry reached it before he finally got a gruff "hello" from the mill manager, mr. aikens. but, fortunately, aikens was not slow to grasp the situation. in the midst of his explanations jerry realized that there was no one at the other end of the wire. out of the house he dashed and down to where in his wild race he had seen a boat moored below the dam. the oars were still in place. barely waiting for the panting dave to tumble in, he pushed off, exultingly noting as he strained at the oars that already the volume of water pouring over the falls had lessened. before he reached the main channel it had dwindled to a bare trickle. "take the oars!" he directed the helpless dave, at the same time stumbling to the bow of the boat and jerking off shoes, shirt and trousers. diving seemed a hopeless undertaking, but there was little else to do. again and again he plunged under, coming up each time nearly spent but desperately determined to try again. two boats put out from the mill side of the river, capable mr. aikens in one of them. a grappling hook trailing from the stern of the boat told that such accidents as this were not unusual in treacherous plum run. then began a search that exhausted their every resource. the ill word had speedily gone around among the nearer houses, and in the course of an hour a great crowd of men appeared from watertown itself. the water was black with boats and alive with diving bodies. hastily constructed grappling hooks raked the narrow stream from side to side. a big seine was even commandeered from a houseboat up the river and dragged back and forth across the rough river bed till the men were worn out. but all to no avail. every now and then a shout of discovery went up, but the booty of the grappling hooks invariably proved to be only watersoaked logs or mud-filled wreckage. once they were all electrified at a black-haired body dislodged by a clam-rake, that came heavily to the surface and then sank, to be the subject of ten minutes frantic dragging, only to be finally revealed as the body of an unfortunate dog. it was heart-breaking work, and the tension was not lessened with the appearance on the scene of mr. fulton, tod's father. he said nothing, but his hopeless silence was more depressing than any words of grief could have been. jerry and dave and frank, feeling in some queer way guilty of their friend's death, could not meet his eyes as he asked dully how it had happened. the dreary day dragged to a weary close, and the sun sank behind heavy clouds black with more than one rumbling promise of storm. the boys toiled doggedly on, weak from hunger, for their lunches had gone over with the boat, and, anyway, they would not have had the heart to swallow a bite. lanky, good-natured tod fulton--drowned! it simply couldn't be. but the fast darkening water, looking cruel now, and menacing, where it had laughed and rippled only that morning, gave the lie to their hopes. hopes? the last one had gone when mr. aikens had said: "never heard of anybody's being brought to after more than two hours under water. only thing we can hope for is to find the body. i'm going to telephone to town and tell 'em to send out some dynamite." it was already dusk when this decision was made, and it was after nine o'clock before an automobile brought a supply of dynamite sticks and detonating caps. in the meanwhile a powerful electric searchlight had been brought over from the interurban tracks a scant mile west of the river line, and the millwheel had been shafted to the big dynamo and was generating current to flash dazzling rays of light across the water. mayor humphreys, from watertown, and mr. aikens were chosen to set off the dynamite, while watchers lined the shores, sharp-eyed in the hope of catching sight of the body when it should come to the muddied surface of plum run after the dynamite had done its work. charge after charge was set off, and countless hundreds of fish were stunned or killed by the terrific force of the explosive, but no body of a hapless sixteen-year-old boy rewarded the anxious searchers. up and down the river combed the dynamiters, and glare and crash rent the night for a mile down the stream. it began to look as if other means would have to be resorted to--the saddest of all, perhaps--time. sometime, somewhere, after days or even weeks, ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred miles down the river, a sodden, unrecognizable body would be washed up on sand-bar or mud-bank. it was a sickening thought. "have all the river towns been telegraphed?" asked a bystander, of the mayor. a nod of the head was his only answer. "we may as well go home," was the final reluctant verdict. "we can come back in the morning." mr. fulton alone refused to abandon the search, and mr. aikens kindly offered to bear him company till daybreak brought others to take his place. when all had gone save these two and the three boys, jerry approached and tried to draw mr. aikens aside. "do you suppose," he began with a kind of despairing eagerness, "that he could have stayed in the boat?" aikens shook his head. "not a chance in the world," he declared. "but i thought----" began jerry, to be interrupted by mr. aikens, who finally contented himself with merely repeating: "not a chance in the world." they were silent until at last mr. aikens, moved by some impulse of kindliness, for he could hardly help guessing how miserable the boy's thoughts must be, added: "you thought what, lad?" "the boat was full of water, of course, but when she popped up, it looked like there was something black in the bottom----" "you saw the boat go over, didn't you! it must have turned over and over a dozen times down there in that whirlpool, even if he had stayed in till she lit. but he couldn't have. and even if----" "yes" urged jerry, but without enthusiasm. "if he _was_ in the bottom of the boat he would have been drowned just the same, knocked senseless as he probably was by the terrific force of the fall and the tons of water plunging on top of him. mind you, i don't think there was one chance in a million but that he was dashed out long before the boat hit bottom." "but where's the--the body, then?" objected jerry miserably. "if grappling hooks and seines and dynamite couldn't answer that question, don't expect me to. look here, lad, i know you feel all cut up over it, but think of how his poor father feels----" "i am--that's what makes me feel as if it was partly my fault." "now--now--don't take it like that. man and boy i've lived on this and other rivers a good many years over forty, and a drowning i've known for every one of those years. the water's a treacherous dame--she smiles at you in the sunshine, and the little waves kiss each other and play around your boat, but the shadows lurk deep and they're waiting, waiting, i tell you. the old river takes her toll. it happened to be _your_ friend, that's all. but it wasn't anybody's fault. mr. fulton would be the last one in the world to think so." jerry looked over at mr. fulton, who had finally ended his mute pacing up and down, and now sat, chin in hand, staring out across the water. a sudden impulse made the boy go over and stand for awhile, silent, beside the grief-stricken man. he wanted to say something, but the words would not come. so, after a little, he walked upstream to where dave and frank huddled against an overturned boat; the night was growing a bit chill. "moon's coming up," remarked frank as jerry settled down beside them. no one answered. "it's awful to sit around and not move a finger to find him," shivered dave at last. "seems as if there ought to be something we could do." "do you know what i think?" replied jerry, almost eagerly. "i think i was right about that boat. i've been trying to remember what we left in the boat that could have looked like--like what i saw when she came up. there wasn't a thing in the boat--not a thing. it was tod i saw--i know it was!" "but he never could have stayed in," objected frank. "that's what mr. aikens said--and everybody else. but tell me what else it could have been i saw. i saw _some_thing, _that_ i know." "we ought to have gone after the boat," admitted dave, slowly. "we didn't do a bit of good here, that's sure." "but we didn't know that at the time," frank argued. "everybody'd have blamed us if we'd gone on a wild goose chase down the river after an empty boat----" "but nobody would have said a word if we'd found him in the bottom of a boat everybody else thought was empty. if the moon was only higher----" "you don't catch me drilling off down plum bun at night, moon or no moon. there's a rattlesnake or copperhead for every hundred yards!" it was frank who took up jerry's thought. "besides, it would be different if we hadn't waited so long. tod--tod's--he's dead now," voicing at last the feeling they had never before put into words. there was a gruffness in jerry's voice as he answered, a gruffness that tried hard to mask the trembling of his tones. "i know it, but--but--i want to do something for mr. fulton. won't you fellows go along with me? i guess i--i'll go." "down river?" asked both boys, but without eagerness. "till we find the boat." "it's no use," said frank. "our folks'll cane us now when we get home. going along, dave--with me?" "how far do you s'pose the boat's drifted by now, jerry?" asked dave instead of answering frank. "can't tell. she's probably stuck on a sandbar or a snag, anywhere from five to twenty-five miles down. don't go along, dave, unless you want to." "better come home with me," urged frank. "do you _need_ me along, jerry?" queried dave uncertainly. "no--" shortly--"no _i_ don't. mr. fulton does--tod does." jerry rose stiffly to his feet and started slowly off in the faint moonlight, without so much as a look behind. "so long, jerry," called frank. "come on, dave." but dave slowly shook his head and reluctantly followed the footsteps of his chum. "hold on a minute, old man; i'll stick with you." chapter iii lost island it was only a thin edge of a moon that now stood barely above the low line of tree-covered hills beyond the east bank of the river. the light it gave was a misty, watery sort of ray that was a doubtful help in walking over the broken shore line. the two boys were too occupied in watching their footing to do much talking. jerry led the way, bearing to the water's edge, finally stopping where a light rowboat had been pulled well up on the rocky beach. "we'll have to divide forces, i guess. in this uncertain light we never could be sure of seeing the boat if she was on the other side. i'll cut across while you go down this bank." "why not take the boat and go down the middle?" "too hard work getting through the shallows, and, besides, this way we're closest to the place where the boat would most likely have been snagged. we can go lots faster on foot. we'll keep about opposite each other; we can yell across once in a while and it won't be quite so lonesome. you go ahead till you get below the riffles, and wait there till i catch up with you." jerry stepped into the boat and took up the oars. dave gave the boat a mighty shove that almost put the stern under the water. "hey! what you kids doing?" bellowed a gruff voice that the boys hardly recognized as being that of mr. aikens. "just duck and say nothing," called jerry guardedly to dave. "he might try to stop us." so dave scurried into the shadows of near-by trees, while jerry bent low over his oars and noiselessly shot the boat out into safe waters. it was the work of only a few minutes to push the nose of his boat high and dry on the sand of the opposite shore. he was in the heavy shadow of a big cottonwood and felt safe from peering eyes, so without wasting time to mask his movements he jumped out and scurried along the bank. a level stretch of a hundred yards carried him around a bend; he stopped for a brief rest and a glance toward the other side, where a great crashing of bushes told him that dave was safely out of sight and well on his way toward the riffles. a chuckle almost escaped jerry as he listened to the thrashing about, but remembrance of their errand killed the laughter. in fact, the chuckle turned to a genuine sob, for tod fulton was his closest chum. so, without an instant's pause, he made his way to the foot of the riffles, where their search would really begin. how soon it would end, there was no telling; it might be one mile; it might be twenty. but jerry grimly determined that he would carry the undertaking through to the end. the riffles was really a succession of pools of treacherous depths, joined by foaming, rock-broken rapids. the bank was lined with great boulders through which a day-time path wound a difficult way. jerry wasted no time in trying to follow it, but skirted far around through a waist-high cornfield. a barb-wire fence held him prisoner long enough to allow dave to break cover first on the opposite shore and send a vigorous but quavery "hello" across the water. "i'm stuck on the fence!" shouted jerry in return. "go ahead. i'll be along directly." but he noticed that dave stood waiting on the shore when he finally managed to release himself and broke through the thin fringe of willows. "all right, dave," he urged. "let's not be losing any time." for a while the going was much easier. on jerry's side a wide reach of sand lay smooth and firm in the pale moonlight. on dave's side a few yards of sand lay between a steep bank and the water's edge, but every few hundred feet a shallow creek broke through and forced wading. there was no chance for the boat to have stranded here, and the boys hurried along. within a mile the character of the ground changed. now the water lapped along under high, steep banks, with tiny, willow-covered islands alternating with bass-haunted snags of dislodged trees barricaded with driftwood. the moon cast queer shadows and more than once jerry's heart felt a wild thrill as he fancied he saw a boat hull outlined against the silvered current. every few hundred yards the two boys stopped and sent encouraging shouts across the widening water. it was a lonesome, disheartening task, with every step making the task all the harder. deep bays cut into the shore line; the feeder creeks grew wider and deeper. the night air was chill on their dripping shoulders. plum run was no longer a run--it was a real river, and dave's voice sounded far off when he came out on some bare point to shout his constant: "nothing doing--yet." they were now on a part of the river that was comparatively strange to them. jerry had more than once followed the plum this far south, but it had always been by boat, or at best on the west bank, dave's territory, where a chain of lakes followed the course of the river. each new twist and turn sent a shiver of nervous dread through him. many the story of rattlers and copperheads he had heard from fishermen and campers--and the night was filled with unexpected and disturbing noises, overhead and underfoot. of course he knew that snakes are not abroad at night, but the knowledge did not help his nerves. moreover, they were drawing near lost island, and no boy of watertown had ever been known to cast a line within half a mile of that dreaded spot. for lost island was the "haunted castle" of the neighborhood. it was nothing more than a large, weed-and-willow-covered five acres, a wrecked dam jutting out from the east bank, and a great gaunt pile of foundation masonry standing high and dry on a bare knoll at the north end. it had a history--never twice told the same. the dam had been dynamited, that much was sure. by whom, no one knew. the house, if ever a house had been built over those rain-bleached rocks, had been struck by lightning, hurricane, blown up by giant powder, rotted away--a dozen other tragic ends, as the whim of the story-teller dictated. the owner had been murdered, lynched, had committed suicide--no one knew, but everyone was positive that there was something fearfully, terribly wrong with lost island. it was one of the few islands in plum run which was not flooded over by the spring freshets, and the land was fertile, yet no one had ever been known to live there through a season; this in spite of the fact that lost island was known as "squatter's land," open to settlement by anyone who desired it. and lost island lay barely half a mile farther down the river. jerry fervently hoped that their search would be ended before they were in the shadow of that forsaken territory. his nerves were not calmed any by the tremble in dave's voice as he shouted across: "lost island's just below us, jerry. shall we go on?" "sure thing, dave!" called jerry with a confidence he did not feel. "it can't be any worse than what we've already gone through--and we've gone through _that_ all right." "supposing," hesitated dave, "supposing the boat's grounded on lost island itself----" "it's the boat we're looking for, isn't it?" but jerry knew as he spoke, that, hard as the going was, he would be well satisfied to discover the boat five weary miles farther on. once more they plodded along, the dark, forbidding hulk of lost island looming nearer and nearer. just before passing behind the northern point jerry came out to the water's edge and had cupped his hands about his mouth for a final reassuring shout, when a sudden discovery made him pause. a shout, that seemed to split in mid-air, convinced him that dave too had just then caught sight of the astounding object. it was a gleaming, flickering, ruddy light, and it came from the very center of lost island! jerry's first thought was fright. but that soon gave way to the wildest of conjectures. suppose tod had been in the boat. suppose he had come to in time, but too weak to do more than remain in the boat till it grounded here on lost island. a waterproof match-safe easily accounted for the fire. jerry refused to allow himself to reason any further. there might be a dozen reasons why tod had not swum the scant hundred yards to shore. "do you see it!" finally came a shout from the other side. "it's a camp fire," called jerry. "do you suppose it could possibly be----" "it couldn't be tod, _could_ it!" came the answer, showing the same wild hope that had surged through jerry. "oh--_tod!_" rang out from two trembly throats on both sides of the river. there was no reply. at least there came no answering shout. but the next instant jerry rubbed his eyes in bewilderment. the camp fire had been blotted out as if by magic. only the deep gloom of thick-set willows lay before him. "the fire's gone!" came in alarmed tones from dave. "_tod--oh, tod!_" rang out once more through the still night air. this time there was an answer, but not the one the boys expected. a gruff voice demanded angrily: "say, you idiots--what in the thunder you want!" "we're looking for a boy who was drowned up at----" began jerry, who was closest to the high point where a man was presently seen stalking through the fringe of bushes. "boy who was drowned? _calling_ for him! ye crazy loons!" interrupted the man. "we don't know whether he was drowned or not," answered jerry hotly. "well i'll never tell you," was the surly response. with a disgusted shrug of the shoulders the great hulk of a man slouched back toward the center of the island, pausing just before he disappeared once more in the wilderness to warn: "any more of that howling's going to bring a charge of buckshot, and i don't care which of you i hit." "do you care if we come over and look along the shore of the island?" shouted dave at the retreating figure. the answer, which was more like a growl than a human response, left no doubt of the man's meaning. neither boy felt the slightest desire to swim across to lost island. instead jerry waved his arms over his head and then pointed downstream. so once more they trudged along, disheartened more than ever, for somehow the actions of that weird figure on lost island had made their search look more of a wild goose chase than ever. the island was soon passed, but jerry found himself peering hopelessly across a sluggish, muddy-bottomed slough that promised many a weary minute of wading before he could hope to establish communication with his companion again. so it was with a great feeling of relief that, once more on solid ground, he heard dave's call. "say, jerry, we're pretty near down to tomlinson's wagon bridge. what you say that we hustle on down and meet halfway across--and wait there for daylight. i'm about woozified." "good!" agreed jerry, pleased that the suggestion had come from dave. "even the thought of it rests my old legs till they feel like new. i'll just race you to it!" but it was a slow sort of race, for neither boy was willing to take a chance in passing the most innocent shadow--which always turned out to be a water-soaked log or a back-eddied swirl of foam. nevertheless, it was a spent dave who sank gasping to the rough plank floor of the middle span of the wagon bridge a scant second ahead of another puffing boy. a good ten minutes they lay there, breathing hard. then both rose and walked over to the edge and leaned heavily against the girders as they looked gloomily down the river. "looks almost hopeless, doesn't it!" admitted jerry, finally. "worst of it is we don't really know whether she's down below yet or if we've passed it. she was riding pretty low." "wonder what that man was doing on lost island?" speculated jerry, crossing wearily to the north edge of the bridge and peering through the gray dawn-mist toward the island, barely visible now. a mere twinkle of light showed among the trees, and he stood there for a long minute. dave come to his side, and the two waited in silence for the dawn. jerry had almost fallen asleep standing up, when a sudden clutch at his arm nearly overbalanced him and sent him tumbling off the dizzy height. "look!" gasped dave. "what is it?" exclaimed jerry, turning to his companion, all sleep gone. "i'll swear it's the boat--right under us!" chapter iv more thrills it was only a bare few seconds before the floating object had passed within the shadow of the bridge, but there could be no doubt about it; it was a boat, riding so low that only her outline showed. jerry rubbed his eyes in disbelief, but for only an instant. then he sprang to the other side of the bridge, shedding hat, coat, trousers, shirt and shoes, on the way. so, at least, it seemed to dave, who caught his chum's arm, as jerry poised himself, his body white and gleaming in the moonlight, on the high rail that ran along the edge. "what you going to do, jerry? it's a good thirty feet to the water--and you don't know how deep it is down there." "i'm diving shallow, dave; two feet is all i ask below. we can't take any chances of losing her. carry my clothes along the bank, will you? i'll try to make the east side--it looks a little closer." in the few seconds they had talked, the boat had drifted under the bridge and now cut through the silver-edged shadow of the last timbers. there was a quiver of the flimsy railing, a slender body cut through the moonlight, parted the water with a clean _sush!_ and bobbed up almost immediately, within three feet of the boat. jerry ring did not have the reputation of being the best diver in watertown for nothing. now ensued a great kicking and churning as jerry's legs transformed themselves into propellers for the salvaged "_big four_." progress was slow; the waterlogged craft lay in the river like so much cordwood. more than once jerry had to stop for a few minutes' rest. but little by little he neared shore, encouraged by dave, who impatiently awaited the landing, wading out finally waist-deep to help. neither one said a word as the boat was at last beached. no more than the barest glance was needed to tell that there was nothing in the boat but water. theirs had been a fruitless chase. "well," said dave, slowly, after a long silence, "i guess that ends our last hope." "i'm afraid you're right," agreed jerry dejectedly. "but there's one thing that puzzles me--do you notice how much water there is in the boat? it's a good ten inches from the top--how full would it have been when she popped up from under the falls at the dam?" "she'd have been right up to the top, i suppose. why?" "well, what i want to know is: how did it get out? and, what's more, i'd like to know how it would have taken the boat all these hours to float those few miles. plum run's got a six mile an hour current up above, and it's at least four here. there's something mighty funny about it all to me." "but mightn't it just have been snagged or shoaled up above, and finally worked loose?" "sure, i know that. but i know the boat was drifting about as fast as we were walking, and that being the case, she must have cleared lost island just about three minutes after we talked with that man!" "you're getting excited, jerry--over nothing." "nothing! you call the water that was _baled_ out of the boat nothing. it _was_ baled out, i tell you. and look at that rope--it was _cut_ loose. somebody was in too big a hurry to untie knots, that's my guess." "but, jerry, what in the world are you driving at, anyway!" "i don't know. something about the way that man back there on lost island acted set me thinking away in the back of my head. i didn't realize what it was that was going on in my cranium until i noticed this cut rope and say!" jerry's voice rose in high excitement. "_dave!_ dave--do you remember? the _bucket!_" dave only stared at his friend in bewilderment. "wha--what bucket?" he at last managed to gasp. "you remember last week when we were out, and the storm caught us and pretty nearly swamped the boat? tod said he'd bet we'd never be caught without a bailing can again--and he put a lard pail on a snap hook under the back seat. it's gone!" "but what if--why, pshaw, it could easy have worked loose and floated away. i don't see what there is to be so worked up about." "but, dave, don't you see----" jerry was trembling with excitement. "suppose tod _had_ stayed in the boat, and he came to, and he didn't have any oars. first off he'd try to bale her out, wouldn't he? he'd bale out just enough so she'd ride easy, and then he'd try to get to shore. maybe he landed on lost island. suppose he did, and suppose that ruffian we saw didn't want him to get off again. what else would the man do but cut loose the boat when we came along!" "jerry, don't you think we'd better be getting on home?" "what's the matter with you, dave?" "why, nothing, jerry----" "then what you talking about going on home when i'm running down a clew like that?" "it's almost morning, jerry, and you've had a hard day and been up all night--and the lonesome chase through the dark----" "now look here, davie! if you think i'm getting soft in the head, just forget it. i never was more in earnest in my life. don't you understand? i think tod's alive--_back there on lost island!_" "but we don't know he was in the boat----" "look here, dave, if you were falling, what'd be the first thing you'd do? you'd grab at the nearest thing to you, wouldn't you! and if you got hold of that boat-seat, for instance, you'd pretty near hang on, wouldn't you? i saw _something_ in the bottom of the boat when she came up." "yes, but we don't know the boat touched lost island----" "no, of course not. but most always when i see a sign that says 'no fishing allowed,' i know there's fish there." "you certainly talk as if you were out of your head. what's fishing got to do with it?" "the man was not overly anxious to have us come out and make a search of _his_ island. i'm going back up there and i'm going to swim across or _get_ across and i'm going to find out what he has there he doesn't want us to see. are you game to go along?" "but supposing there's nothing there, and the man----" "that island doesn't belong to anybody. we've got as much right there as he has. the worst he can do is to kick us off, and there's only one of him against _two_ of us. come on." before they left, however, they tipped their boat over and emptied out nearly all the water. then, as they had no oars to row her back, they tied her by the short length of rope left, to a stout willow. jerry resumed his clothing, and shivering a bit in the cool morning air, was eager to warm up with a good brisk walk. they were on the east side of the river, and the trail would have been hard enough even in broad daylight, but jerry would waste no time in crossing over when a few minutes later they halted at the bridge. home lay on the other side of the river, and dave, still unconvinced, stubbornly insisted on following the west bank, but jerry soon cut short the argument by striding off in disgust. after a minute of uncertainty dave tagged along behind. neither spoke; to tell the truth, they were both decidedly cold, hungry and cross. the damp, fishy smell of the river somehow set their nerves on edge, and the long drill through swamps and across creeks and sloughs appeared none too enticing. "i say, jerry," called davie finally, "let's stop for a breath of air; i'm about petered out." "can't," replied jerry shortly. "sky's getting gray now. we've got to get _there_ before daylight. if we can catch our friend on the island asleep it'll make things a lot easier. pull your belt up a notch and see if you can't put the notch into your legs." dave grumbled but obediently hastened his gait. in single file they cut across the last stretch of knee-deep mud and halted opposite lost island. there it lay, beyond the narrow stretch of steaming, misty black water, dark and forbidding. there was something shivery about its low-lying-heavy outline, with nothing visible beyond the border of thick willow growth. "looks like some big crouching animal, doesn't it?" remarked dave as they stood an instant peering across. "well, we know it can't spring--and it won't bite, i guess." "i'm not so sure. how are we going to get over?" "swim it, unless--no, i guess we won't swim--not, at least, if there's a pair of oars in that flat-boat i see yonder. funny we didn't stumble over it when we came down." "maybe it wasn't here then. maybe the man came over in it. we better not stand here in the open. we don't know what minute he might be back." "well, if it is his boat, at least we don't need to worry about running onto him over there on the island." "you're going to swim over, aren't you, jerry? if the man came along and found his boat gone, he'd know _we_ were over there and----" "and he'd be stranded on this side until we were so kind as to bring back his boat. you can bet _he_ isn't going to swim over, and i bet you i don't either." the boat proved to be a cumbersome flat-boat of the type used by clam-fishers. in fact the smell that simply swirled up from its oozy bottom left no doubt that the boat had been used for that purpose. a pair of unbelievably heavy oars, cut from a sapling with a hand-axe, trailed in the water from "loose oarlocks." dave gave a gasp of dismay as he "hefted" the rough implements. "let's swim it, jerry," he said disgustedly. "the boat'll never hold up the oars and us too. they weigh a ton." "pile in," answered jerry, with the first laugh since that tragic moment when he had seen a different boat swept over the dam many weary miles up the river. "we'll each take an oar and try some two-handed rowing. this craft was built for ocean-going service. hold tight; we're off." but they weren't. jerry's mighty push ended in a grunt. "come on; get out here and shove." "maybe if we took the oars out we could start her," dave jibed. "i hope you've got a freight-hauling license." "get out and push. your witty remarks are about as light as those young tree-trunks we have for paddles. all together now!" as dave bent over beside him. a lurch, a grinding, thumping slide, and the flat-boat slid free of shore. "it's a mighty good thing if that man isn't on the island," remarked dave as he took up his half of the propelling mechanism. "because when our craft took the water she certainly did 'wake the echoes of yon wooded glen,' as the poet says." "poetry's got nothing to do with this boat. it doesn't rhyme with anything but blisters. let's see if we can move her." thanks to some tremendous tugging, the flat-boat moved slowly out from shore. inch by inch, it seemed, they gained on the current. "the old tub's got speed in her," grunted jerry, between sweeps of his oar. "ought to have it _in_ her," returned dave. "i'll bet you nobody ever got it _out_ of her. ugh!" "always grunt out toward the back of the boat--keep your head turned. it helps us along." "i've only got one grunt left; i'm saving it. how far have we gone?" "all of ten feet. i'll tell you when we hit the island. lift your oar out of water when you bring it back. the idea is to move the boat, not merely to stir up the water." so they joked each other, but their hearts were heavy enough, for always in the back of their minds was the thought of their friend, who, in spite of the wild hope that jerry had built up, might--_must_, dave was sure--be lying at the bottom of treacherous plum run somewhere, drowned. at last they seemed to be nearly halfway across, and they rested a brief spell, for every inch of their progress had to be fought for. "all right," said jerry, taking up his oar, "let's give her another tussle." but dave did not move, although he still hunched over his oar. "come on, dave," urged his friend. "we don't want to lose any time. the sun ought to be up almost any minute now." "look behind you, old man. right where we're headed, and tell me what you see." jerry turned in his seat. he took one quick glance toward lost island, now less than a hundred feet away, and then gave a low cry of dismay. chapter v a startling clew there was a streak of light in the western sky, whether caused by the low-hanging, mist-hidden moon or a freak reflection of the coming dawn. against that patch of brightness the northern headland of lost island loomed up high and barren save for its one tall tree. but it was neither headland nor tree that caught jerry's attention and caused the gasp of dismay. standing there, bold and menacing, looking like a giant against the queer light, was a man. whether it was the same one who had hailed them earlier in the morning, the boys could not of course know. but there was no doubt about the equal unfriendliness of his attitude, for through the crook of one elbow he carried a shotgun, while even as jerry turned in his seat, the other arm was raised and a big fist shaken. the next instant they were assured that this was the same man as had warned them away before. there was no mistaking the voice that bellowed across the water. neither was there any mistaking the meaning of the brief sentence: "get to thunder out o' here!" jerry stood up in the boat and waved a friendly hand in the general direction of the angry man, and called pleasantly: "we were just coming over to see about a boy we think landed on _your_ island last night or early this morning. we found his boat down at the bridge and we figured that he must have----" as jerry talked, dave had been slyly urging the boat closer to shore, but at a sudden interruption from the island, both he and jerry paused. "you come another foot closer, you young idiots, and i'll fill you full of rock salt. i loaded up especial for you when you raised that rumpus last night; i knew durned well you'd be coming back." "have you seen anything of our friend?" cried dave anxiously, trying to smooth things over by being civil. "if he's anything like you two, i hope i never do." "you've got no right to keep us off lost island," began jerry hotly. "i don't need any right; i've got a shotgun. you two just pick up your paddles and blow back to shore--and be sure you tie up that boat good and tight or i'll have the law on you. git, now!" there didn't seem to be anything else to do. the two boys muttered to each other, and neither one was willing to admit believing that the man would really shoot, but somehow they were unwilling to put it to the test. reluctantly they took up the oars again and turned the nose of the boat back toward the east bank. facing the man now, jerry sent one last appeal across the slowly widening space. "we didn't mean any harm. a friend of ours was drowned yesterday, we think. we're looking for him--or his body. all we want is to know if you've seen anything of him." "i told you this morning i hadn't." "but why don't you let us look on the island? we're almost sure our boat was stranded there a long while. he _might_ have been in it. if you'd just let us look, we'd be satisfied." "i guess you'll be satisfied anyway, youngster. just keep on rowing. where was young fulton drowned, anyway?" jerry made no answer. when dave undertook to shout a reply, jerry silenced him with a savage look. then he stood up on his seat. making a megaphone of his hands he yelled derisively: "yah! he _wasn't drowned!_" then he sat down again and caught up his oar and began lunging desperately at the water. "hurry, dave, hurry!" he commanded excitedly. "what's got into you?" exclaimed dave impatiently. "you've been flying off on about forty different angles lately. what new bug has bitten you?" "bug! dave, do you mean to tell me you didn't hear what the man said?" "course i did--but we're going, aren't we? he didn't say he'd shoot unless we kept on coming ahead." "oh--_that!_ well, you've been up all night, so no wonder you're half asleep. didn't you hear him say: 'where was young fulton drowned?'" "sure." "well?" "well what? what in thunder's got into you? why shouldn't he ask that?" "he should have. he should have asked it the first time we talked to him. but, gee whiz, dave, he shouldn't have known it was _young fulton_ unless--unless it was young fulton himself who told him. dave--dave! don't you see? we never mentioned his name." "great guns!" gasped dave. that was all he said, and for that matter, all that either one said. the man stood on the point of lost island till he was satisfied that the boys had tied the boat safely and did not mean to loiter in the neighborhood. then he disappeared among the trees of the lower part of the island. but the boys did not pay much attention to their late antagonist, save for a bare glance as they topped the high ridge that followed the river course. miles to the north they could see a big square white building that they knew as carter's mills, really only a grain storage elevator. almost due west of that was the milldam, which was about the only place they could hope to be able to cross plum run--and watertown lay on the other side. of course, they might follow the river bank on the chance of meeting some good-hearted fisherman or camper who would row them across. but the chance was too slim. they decided to cut across country till they reached the mill. it was a long, hard drill on an empty stomach. up hill and down dale, and every step kept time to by a pang from the inner man. "do you think it's a sin to steal?" this from dave. "certainly." "apples!" "apples? a sin? not if you know where there are any. lead me to them." "oh, i don't know where any are. i just wondered what you thought of it." "do you think it's wrong to punish criminals?" this from jerry. "put 'em in jail you mean?" "well, whatever way seems best." "no, i can't say as i do. why, jerry?" "i'm going to thump you good and plenty for fooling me about those apples, that's why." "catching comes before thumping!" and dave was off with all the speed his weary legs could muster. fortunately jerry's legs were in no better shape, so the race, while exciting enough, was a long, slow one. before jerry was able to overhaul his chum, he was so tired out that anything so strenuous as thumping was quite out of the question. "if you'd just kept running straight ahead, instead of ducking and dodging, we'd be home by now," he complained as he released the puffing dave. but at that they had made good time through their chase and within a very few minutes the last bend of the river showed them the milldam. the place was deserted. "i guess mr. aikens persuaded tod's father to go back home and get breakfast and rest up a bit," remarked dave. "if there doesn't happen to be a boat on this side of the river we may have to wait some time for that breakfast you've been promising me the last ninety-eight miles. we sure can't get across the dam, with all that water rushing over." "i'll swim it before i wait," grimly declared jerry. "do you suppose mr. aikens took the mill boat?" "most likely. where'll you try it, below or above? swimming, i mean." "no chance below, with that current. but i guess we won't need to. i see pete galpin's clam-boat down at his dock. it leaks like sin, but if one bails while the other rows i guess we can make it." no one was astir at galpin's shanty, a houseboat pulled high and dry on shore, and almost hidden by great piles of driftwood snagged upon the bank to serve as winter fuel. old pete galpin lived there all alone, fishing and clamming and occasionally taking a wood-cutting contract to help out through the scant winter months. once he had been known to work with an ice-cutting gang, but quit because he was afraid he'd make so much money that it would tempt somebody to rob him. the flat-boat that was moored down at galpin's "dock"--four railroad ties roped together--was none too substantial looking, having been built by galpin himself from odds and ends picked up from scrap heaps and driftage. as galpin himself said, the only whole part about the boat was the name, which had been painted in red on a single thin board sticking a full two feet past the stern--"upanatum." but the boys did not waste a great deal of time in admiring the beautiful lines of their borrowed craft. jerry made at once for the oar seat, leaving dave to untie and push off. for all the tremendous leak which at once developed, the boat responded easily to the strenuous tugs of jerry's muscular arms and back. they beached the boat and made their way up the bank and across a field where oats had just been cut, the bundles lying yellow as gold in the early morning sunlight. just beyond was a narrow, plum-thicket bordered lane, which in turn led into the newly graveled "county" road. the boys found the walking much easier in a path that twisted along next to the fence. however, within a mile, along came a farmer, hauling a load of early potatoes to town, and the boys gladly accepted his invitation to "hop on." within a quarter of a mile both were sound asleep, nor did they waken until the springless wagon rattled over the interurban tracks less than two blocks from dave's home. rubbing their eyes in a vain attempt to drive out the sleep, they stumbled along the quiet street. "where will i find you after breakfast?" asked jerry, as dave turned in at his gate. "in bed. i'll be lucky if i stay awake till after breakfast." "but we've got to tell mr. fulton." "you tell him, jerry. i just know he won't pay any attention to what we say--i don't more'n half believe it now myself----" dave had to stop for a tremendous yawn. "if that's the case, you might just as well sleep." jerry was out of patience, but dave was too sleepy to care very much. "i'll see you--see you--later, jerry," he said drowsily as he turned and staggered up the walk. jerry, after an undecided second or two, faced about and began to retrace his steps. he cut through the ellery back yard and came out on the cross street at whose corner the fultons lived. the house was a big ramshackle affair of a dozen rooms or so, far too large a place for the fultons, since there had been only the two of them, tod's mother having died when he was only a little tad. indeed, as tod said, they only used three rooms, the kitchen and two bedrooms. but that was hardly true; there was a big basement under all the house, the most of it used as a workroom, and here it was that the two of them spent the better part of their waking hours. mr. fulton was an odd sort of man, a bit inclined to think his business his own business. but it was no secret among his neighbors that all sorts of queer contrivances were planned and made in that combination machine shop, carpenter shop, forge and foundry below stairs. mr. fulton was an inventor. true, for the most part he invented useless things; he had inherited money and did not need to make any more. but the boys, who were allowed to roam through the workshop at will, were wildly enthusiastic over the ingenious devices schemed out by father and son, for tod was a chip off the old block. now, jerry did not go up to the front door, even though it was standing ajar. instead he hurried to the little side porch and reached high up under the eaves, where an electric button was concealed. he pushed it, hard, well knowing that if mr. fulton were anywhere in the house he would hear that bell. that was why it had been so well hidden. but there was no response. again jerry rang; he could hear the shrill br-r-r-r of the bell. after a long time he heard footsteps, but something told him they were not those of mr. fulton. the door swung open. there stood mr. aikens. "is mr. fulton here," demanded jerry. "asleep," nodded mr. aikens. "i've got to see him." "all right--if you don't wake him up." "i've got to talk to him--i've got big news." "big news? of--of tod?" big mr. aikens was not the kind of man to become easily excited, but his manner was eager enough. "of tod--yes!" cried jerry. "what is it? have you found his--his body?" "better than that, mr. aikens--oh, i'm almost dead sure!" jerry was so excited himself that his voice shook. as for mr. aikens, he leaped over and caught jerry's arm and was shaking it wildly up and down. neither one noticed that a white-faced man stood in the opposite doorway, and that his eyes were simply blazing with expectancy. "what do you mean? what _can_ you mean!" demanded mr. aikens. "i believe that tod fulton is----" "not alive?" almost screamed a voice from across the room. "not alive!" "alive and on lost island!" chapter vi to the rescue! this much of the interview was perfectly clear to jerry afterwards, but what followed he could not quite understand at the time or later. for a moment it was almost laughable. there stood aikens fiercely clutching one arm and waving it up and down as if to pump further information from him. mr. fulton, after the first dazed instant, darted across the room and grabbed jerry's other arm. "_where_ is he? tell me--quick!" he demanded. then it was that jerry could not understand, for the look that came over mr. fulton's face at his reply was neither belief nor doubt. his eyebrows almost met in a frown as he repeated mechanically: "on lost island, you say? but--but--how do you know? you weren't _on_ lost island, were you?" "no--o," answered jerry slowly. a look of relief, quickly hidden, came to mr. fulton's face, but jerry saw it, and wondered. "did someone tell you he was there, then?" "someone told me he _wasn't_ there----" began jerry, when the ting-a-ling of a telephone bell cut him short. "oh!" exclaimed mr. fulton and hurried from the room. his muffled voice could be heard in a lengthy conversation. jerry impatiently awaited his return, anxious to tell the rest of his story. imagine then his surprise when tod's father delayed his return unreasonably, and his only response to jerry's eager sentences was, "yes, yes, i know." jerry's heart sank unaccountably--he sensed the fact that mr. fulton was not listening, was only waiting, in fact, till the boy should finish and he could decently get rid of jerry. the story was consequently hurried through. disappointed beyond description, jerry left the house, not even noticing that mr. fulton had left the room even before jerry had reached the door. something was wrong somewhere; jerry had expected that his story would be literally snatched out of his mouth; instead it had been smothered under the dampest kind of wet blanket. feeling not a little sore over his failure to impress the two men with the importance of his discoveries, jerry plodded along home, determined that as soon as he had gulped down a little breakfast he would hike back to lost island alone and make one more attempt to gain the cover of its wooded banks. even that plan was doomed to disappointment. jerry's mother had saved a goodly breakfast for him, and bustled about making him comfortable. contrary to jerry's expectations, she had no word of blame for his having remained away overnight without asking consent, and even listened with sympathetic ear to the story of his adventures. but just at the moment when jerry was about to announce his intention to return, mrs. ring was called to the back door, to return a few minutes later with the announcement that it had been mr. aikens, and that jerry was not to worry any more about lost island. "but i've simply got to go back, ma," sputtered jerry, his mouth uncomfortably full of pancake. "mr. fulton isn't going to--well, he didn't show much interest in my theories---" "but mr. aikens seemed to think he did. you just rest easy, son. if two grown men can't take care of your lost islander--and your theories, too, why, well--you just get ready to pile into bed, that's all." "but, ma--there's the boat." "it'll take care of itself till you get there." "but, ma----" "hush up, now. into bed with you." "but can i go after the boat when i----" mrs. ring caught up a flat piece of wood from the back of the kitchen range, and laughingly but firmly put an end to the coaxing, jerry retreating hastily to the shelter of his bedroom. both jerry and his father stood in awe of tiny mrs. ring, who barely reached to overgrown jerry's shoulder. "wake me up at twelve, will you, ma?" called jerry, in his most wheedling voice. his mother only laughed, but jerry felt sure she would. besides, there was his dollar alarm clock. jerry repented his request when sharp at twelve o'clock he was called for noonday dinner. he was sleepy and cross and not a bit hungry. his muscles were sore, and the drill to lost island did not have quite the romance by broad daylight that it had had a few hours before. jerry watched his father put on his hat and hurry back to work, with a great deal of relief. his mother was much easier to handle in a case of this sort. "you won't mind if i don't get back till late?" he asked, hoping she would give her unqualified consent to his remaining away as long as he saw fit. "you promised me i could go camping this summer--let me take it now, _please_, ma." "will you promise me to come back and let me pick the birdshot out of you after you've made a landing on lost island?" she asked in mock anxiety. as a matter of fact, mrs. ring was about as proud of her big boy as a mother well could be without making herself a nuisance to the neighbors. from his earliest boyhood she had cultivated the independence of spirit he showed with his first pair of real trousers, and now she often strained a point to let him exercise it. to be sure, she sometimes wondered how much was genuine self-confidence and how much was a reckless love of adventure. now she raised her eyebrows in denial, but at the eager look on the boy's face she relented. "trot along, jerry," she agreed, with a quick pat at his shoulder--the rings were not much at kissing each other. "if you can't take care of yourself by now, you never will be able to. i know you're as anxious as you can be about tod--i do hope it turns out that you are right about him." with a muttered, "i've got to be right," jerry set about making himself a couple of substantial sandwiches and stuffing them in the pocket of his canvas hunting coat, which he took along for emergencies. "good-bye, ma," he called over his shoulder. "i'll be back as soon as i can bring tod with me." once outside, he wasted no time but struck off at once cross-lots to rout out dave thomas and frank ellery. fortunately frank came first, otherwise jerry might not have been equal to the task of waking up dave. they tried everything they had ever heard of. they tickled his feet; they set off a brass-lunged alarm clock under his very nose; they dumped him roughly out of his bed, but even on the bare floor he slumbered peacefully on. cold water brought only temporary success. they were in despair. it was frank who finally solved the problem. seating himself on the foot of the bed, he raised his head much in the fashion of a hound baying at the moon--the sound that issued from his throat would put to shame the most ambitious hound that ever howled. jerry caught up a pillow and would have shied it at the head of the offender, but the perfectly serious look on frank's face withheld his arm. gradually it dawned on him that the boy was trying to sing--and, more than that, it was one of dave's favorite songs he was murdering. then it was that jerry understood frank's strategy. the bed-clothes began to heave; they had piled them all atop dave as he lay on the floor. frank began on the chorus. a wriggling leg emerged from beneath the comforts. jerry joined in, his voice a villainous imitation of frank's discords. another leg came to view. they began to repeat the chorus, further off key than before. one line was all they were suffered to torture. a catapult of boy, bedclothes and pillows bounded from the floor and sent frank spinning into the bed, while jerry barely saved himself from a spill on the floor. "you will yowl like a lot of bob-tailed tomcats, will yuh!" yelled dave, dancing up and down on one foot--he had stubbed his toe against one of his shoes in his charge across the room. "you will snore away like six buzz-saws on circus day, huh?" snorted frank, neatly catching dave in the pit of the stomach with a pillow caught up from the floor. for a second it looked like a free-for-all, but jerry had no time to waste. "get your clothes on--hustle. we're going back to lost island." "suppose my mother won't let me?" "suppose you tell her we've got to go and get our boat? she'll let you go all right. you just want to get back to bed, that's all that's worrying you. hustle, dave. we can't lose a minute." "but didn't you tell tod's dad about what we--found out?" dave hesitated over the last. it was plain to be seen that he was none too sure in his own mind of the importance of their discovery. "i did, and he--well, he acted so queer about it that i don't know what to think. i wouldn't be a bit surprised if they--he and mr. aikens, you know--never went near lost island. they think we're just kids." "but we don't really _know_ anything, jerry; we're only just guessing." "guessing, huh? well, i'm only just guessing that you're wasting a lot of time about getting your clothes on, but in about half a minute i'm going to climb all over you." at that dave bristled up a bit, but his fingers became spryer with buttons and hooks and very shortly he stood fully dressed and ready to go downstairs. jerry had already made peace with mrs. thomas, so little time was lost in waiting for dave to snatch a bite to eat and be on his way. "i've got four bits loose in my pocket," announced jerry, once they were out on the street. "if we don't let any grass grow on the side streets while we're moving we can make the two-five express on the dellwood interurban. we can drop off when they slow down at downers crossing; that must be almost opposite lost island. it's hard going through the swamps to get to plum run, but i guess we're good for it." they made the two-five--with about three seconds to spare. their car was empty, so each dropped into a seat and sprawled out comfortably. jerry smiled grimly to himself as he looked back perhaps five minutes later and saw how the two had slumped down in their seats. it did not need a throaty gurgle from dave to convince him that the pair were sound asleep. "a fine pair of adventurers," he muttered to himself, not entirely without some feeling of resentment. it was well enough to be the leader, but--well, he wouldn't have minded a little snooze himself. he did not feel quite so critical, however, when, perhaps a half hour later, at a terrific jolt of the train, he was roused from the doze into which he too had fallen. a hasty glance out the window told him that they were at downers crossing. with a yell that would have done credit to a whole war-party of comanches, he pounced upon the two sleepers and dragged and pushed and pommeled them out onto the platform of the car. the train was beginning to move, so their descent was none too dignified. "why in thunder didn't you wake us in time so i could have got a drink?" complained frank. jerry said nothing; he felt too guilty to risk any answer. after they had cut across to the wagon road that led in the general direction of the river, he consoled his chum with: "downer's farm is only about half a mile in, and we can get all the buttermilk we want there----" adding mischievously: "----on wednesdays, when they churn." both dave and frank promised instant murder for that, so he had to admit that they would reach the best spring in winthrop county within three minutes. "saved your hide by just twenty-nine seconds," declared dave as he plunged his face into the bubbling surface of the clearest, coldest kind of a hillside spring. their gait was much livelier after that, and in less than ten minutes plum run was sighted, but they did not come out as close to lost island as jerry had predicted. in fact, they were not certain in which direction it lay, for to the north lay a cluster of trees apparently surrounded by water, and which might well be the place they sought. to the south lay another green spot away from shore. "it's north of here," declared both dave and frank, but jerry exclaimed triumphantly, after the first tangle of argument: "it must be south. if lost island was north the wagon bridge'd be between us and it." so south they went; and as they drew nearer they saw that the patch of green was indeed lost island. once they were within close sight of it, they went forward with all caution. the last hundred yards or so they made on hands and knees, finding cover in every clump of bushes or willows on the way. but finally they were ready to break through the last fringe of willow and spy out the prospect. jerry, who was ahead, waited for his two companions to catch up with him. "not a sound, now," he cautioned as they crouched beside him. stealthily they pushed aside the leaves that obscured their view. suddenly, from behind them a yell, blood-curdling, absolutely hair-raising, rang out through the stillness. the three turned. but it was too late. breaking cover at the same instant, a half-dozen husky young chaps charged on the surprised trio. "up and at them, fellows!" came a roar. "they're part of the gang!" chapter vii the flying eagle scouts for a minute or two it was hard for the three boys to understand just what had happened. they were pounced upon and hurled roughly to the ground, in spite of their violent struggles, and there they were pommeled unmercifully. they fought back, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. it was no adventure-story fight where the lone hero engages a dozen husky brutes and by superior science and strength lays his assailants out one by one. too bewildered to be really angry, the three found themselves pinned to the ground. then they were able to take stock of their attackers. six boys they were, of about the same size and age as dave, jerry and frank, they were dressed in some odd sort of uniform, like brownish canvas. just now their faces wore triumphant grins. "here comes phil," remarked one of the three who were standing, coming over to sit on jerry's legs, jerry having seized a favorable opportunity to attempt escape. "what's the idea?" inquired the newcomer, a tall but well-knit chap with a broad, sunburned face and a mop of black hair showing under the forward brim of his wide hat. "we caught them trying to sneak up on us, so we fooled them and jumped on them instead. it's part of that lost island gang," volunteered dave's captor. "we're not either," exploded dave. "shut up!" exclaimed the one astride his stomach. "didn't we see you slinking along through the bushes?" "well, so were you. but we didn't try any wild indian game on you just on that account." "good reason why. you didn't see us," crowed the one on top, giving dave a vigorous poke in the ribs to emphasize the point. that was too much for dave. his usual good nature had been oozing out with every passing second. now he gave a sudden twist, heaved, turned, heaved again, and in less time than it was told, was on his feet and presenting a pair of promising looking fists to the two others who had quickly come to their comrade's assistance. "hold on a minute," suggested the one they had called phil. "let's get the straight of this thing first and fight afterwards. you say you don't belong on the island?" he asked, turning to dave. "we certainly don't. we were trying to get onto it without being seen. that's why we were skulking along that way." "trying to get onto it? you haven't any boat." "we could swim, couldn't we?" "but what do you want to get onto the island for? where are you from, anyhow?" "none of your particular business," snapped dave, but jerry answered as well as he could with his shortness of breath--he too was "stomached" by a stout boy of his own size: "watertown." "know anybody there by the name of tod fulton? he's a cousin of mine--why, what's the matter?" for the three boys had cried out in dismay. "why--why--he's the boy we're after. he's our chum," stammered jerry at last. "then what you after him for--if he's your chum?" "well, he's--he's----" began jerry, and dave blurted out: "drowned!" "what!" cried the whole crew at that. "tod fulton drowned!" "we don't know for sure. that's why we're trying to get onto lost island." then the story came out, piecemeal, for all three insisted on telling it. phil stood as if stunned. at the end he said simply: "he's my cousin. i'm phil fulton. we live at chester. that's about ten miles south of here. we're the flying eagle patrol of boy scouts--maybe you noticed our suits." "thought you were some kind of bushwhackers the way you dropped on us," complained frank. "but what was the idea in thumping us because you thought we were from the island?" "we had good reasons enough," declared phil. "we left town at midnight last night, hiked all the way to our boat-landing two miles up the river, and made the long pull up the plum in the dark just for the sake of getting an early morning chance at the best bass rock you ever heard of--just to get chased out at the point of a shotgun after we'd landed the first one--a three pounder too. can you blame us for being sore?" "on lost island?" asked jerry eagerly. "no, _off_ lost island. a big burly ruffian blew down on us, cussing a streak, and wouldn't hardly let us get into our boat. chucked stones at us all the way across and promised us a mess of birdshot if we came back. do you blame us for wanting to lay you out?" it was dave's conqueror who spoke. "if that's what you do on suspicion, i don't want to be around when you're sure of yourself. my ribs'll be sore for a week." the boys had been talking excitedly; each one was wrought up over the fate of poor tod and this was the only way they were willing to show their feelings. it was phil who brought them back to earth. "well, fellows," he suggested, "let's get acquainted first, and then let's see if we can't frame up some way of getting across and going over that island from end to end. line up, scouts, and be presented." the scouts lined up in two columns. "this is sid walmsly, nicknamed 'the worm,' partly because that's the way we pronounce his name, but mostly because it's a long worm that has no turn, and sid says he's always the one to be left out. you can remember him by the wart on his left knuckle. next is dick garrett; he's assistant patrol leader. this thin, long-drawn-out morsel of sweet temper is fred nelson. we tried to nickname him "angel" but he licked everyone that tried it on him. now comes our joker, we'd call him trixie if we dared. his ma calls him algy brown. frank willis stands first in the behind row. he goes by the name of "budge," chiefly because he _won't_ unless he wants to. barney knowles, the littlest giant in the world--the one in the red sweater. he wears a sweater in july and shirt-sleeves in december. and last of all, but not least--far from it--ted lewis, the only grouchy fat man in captivity. smile for us, teddy." teddy growled. jerry introduced himself and his two chums, and then turned anxiously to phil. "got any plan?" "why not just get into our boat and row over? we can tell that chump over there----" "thought you told us good scouts were always respectful to our elders?" interrupted ted, he of the "grouch." "respectful where respect is _due_," came the quick response. "we can tell the gentleman that we have sent the rest of the gang back for the sheriff----" "and good scouts never tell lies----" this from ted again. "be still or i'll make it the truth by sending you back after him. we ought to make the try, anyway, because that makes our next move easier. if we can't get on the island in the open, we've got to use a little strategy. if we just could get our boat around to the other side of the island----" "i've got it!" cried dave. "our boat's down the river. while the bunch of us keep up a demonstration along the shore here, two of us could slip down and get the boat and sneak in at the lower end." "good. we'd best waste no time about it because it's going to be coming on dark before we know it. who's going along with me?" "to the island? i'll go. the man knows _me_," agreed jerry. "where's your boat?" the rest waited in the cover of the bushes while phil and jerry quietly made their way down the river bank to where the scout boat was moored. they sprang in at once, phil pushing off and hopping lightly to the oars. there was only one pair, but he sent the boat skimming across the ripples. no one was in sight on the island, and they were in hopes of making a landing unobserved, but just as their boat touched shore the willows parted and the man stepped out on the high bank. "back again?" he demanded gruffly. "oh, yes," replied phil easily. "we came back to see if you'd let us look for a box of tackle one of the boys thinks he left down where we were fishing this morning." "oh! and you," said the man sarcastically, turning to jerry. "i suppose you came to look for a lock of hair from your drowned friend's head?" the man's tone was so unfeeling that jerry simply gasped, but phil boiled over at once. "i'll have you know that that boy was my cousin. we have good reason for believing that he's on this island and _we're going to search it_!" "oh, indeed!" and jerry could have sworn that there was a twinkle in the man's eye for all there was no mistaking the threat in his voice. "well, i can promise you a full-sized spanking unless you make yourselves scarce in just about one half minute. this makes the third time i've had to chase you off--and third time's the charm, you know." "but why don't you want us to look for our friend? surely you've got nothing against him--or us." "not a thing. not a thing, sonny. only i live on this place, and i can't have a troop of youngsters tracking mud in at my front door. that friend of yours couldn't very well be on my island without my knowing it, could he?" "but you've never said out and out that he wasn't on the island," asserted jerry boldly. "and you've acted so suspicious that--that we wouldn't believe you now if you did say it." the man laughed at that, for jerry had started out by trying to be diplomatic, but his feelings got the better of him before the end. "i'll be careful not to say it then. as for the tackle box--here it is." jerry opened his eyes wide; he had thought the box a pure invention on the part of phil. "now back water and keep backing." "you think you've got us beat," shouted jerry at his retreating back. "never you worry--i've told mr. fulton, and he and mr. aikens will be coming down here with a posse. they won't be asking your permission if they can investigate an island that doesn't belong to you any more than it does to me." "it belongs to mr. fulton, i suppose?" challenged the man, and turning around for a last laugh. neither boy answered. "you tell your mr. fulton that i said he was welcome to come any time." "now what?" asked jerry, as phil turned the boat about and headed for the other shore. "what next? night, mostly. then i think we'll show your mr. billings a few scout tricks he doesn't know about." "i didn't say his name was billings----" "i know--but _i_ did. i've seen him before. that may be the reason he's so touchy about having us land on the island. the last time i saw him it was down at dad's office. uncle ed--that's mr. fulton, you know--was there, and when i opened the door on them suddenly, he and this billings were having the hottest kind of an argument. dad hustled me out of there in a hurry, but not before uncle ed'd called him billings--and a lot of other things." "you think then that billings is still sore at mr. fulton, and that he's holding tod there----" "nothing more likely. we'll know to-night. at least we'll know whether tod is there--and i guess we'll make a good strong try at getting him loose." "how can we do it? what's your plan?" "leave it to the flying eagle scouts. i'm not bragging, but we're one live crew!" chapter viii a voyage in the dark still, it was some time after the return of phil and jerry from their unsuccessful sortie into the enemy's country, before a practical plan occurred to the ten-brain-power plotters. but the scheme, once its details had been worked out, struck them all as having a fair chance for success. briefly, it was this: two of the boys--jerry and phil were again chosen--were to go down the river to the bridge and cross over and get the _big four_. they were to come back up the river as quietly as possible, hugging the opposite shore to a point about two hundred yards below the island, where the east bank spurred off into a fairly high hill. here one of the boys was to leave the boat, as near nine o'clock as possible--it was now seven--and climb the hill, where he was to signal across to dick garrett, who would be watching directly opposite. then jerry and phil were to make all speed to lost island, landing at the lower end. the boy scouts, and dave and frank, were to gather as conspicuously as possible--a flaring camp fire would show their intentions--and pretend that _they_ were about to embark for the island. that _ought_ to leave the lower end of the island unguarded for the safe landing of jerry and phil. once they were ashore, the dense bushes and the darkness ought to be sufficient cover for their search. little time had been lost, really, in making the plan, for the scouts had been bustling back and forth, building a camp fire and preparing supper. four of them had set up the tents, finishing the task begun by all of them when jerry and phil set out on their first trip to the island. it was not a very fancy meal the boys sat down to. the food was served on paper lunch plates, so there would be no dish-washing. each scout carried knife, fork, spoon and tincup. there was no extra "silverware" save the cook's big utensils. so the three outsiders ate with fingers and pocketknives. a nice mess of perch had been caught in a near-by creek, and frank willis, whose turn it was to act as chef, had browned them most artistically. there were some ash-baked potatoes, and a farmhouse close by had provided a generous supply of buttermilk. the last of the meal was eaten by the light of the camp fire, for the sky had clouded over and night seemed to drop suddenly from above. licking the last morsel of the delicious fish from his greasy finger-ends, and wiping his greasier mouth on his sleeve, jerry jumped to his feet and announced: "i'm ready, phil, if you are." "i've been ready for a quarter of an hour--just waiting for the skillet to be empty, because i knew you'd never stir so long as there was a crumb left. where do you put it all?" "i've got to stow away a lot to balance my brains. i notice you're a light eater," retorted jerry, but phil only chuckled. "all right, you two--be on your merry way," put in dick garrett. "this is no picnic excursion you're starting off on. and don't forget your oars, unless you expect to row your boat with your wits." the two made no reply; a half minute later there were only eight boys in camp. something like a quarter of a mile inland was the gravel road that followed the windings of plum run, to cut across at the wagon bridge. two stealthy figures hurried through the woods and across the fields, to emerge on the other side of a barbed wire fence and trudge off down the dusty road. "some woodsman, you are!" snorted phil in purposely exaggerated disgust. "when you skulked through the brush the limbs could be heard popping for a mile. how many times did you fall down?" "fall down? what you mean, fall down? every time you stumbled over your shadow i thought you were ducking for cover, so i simply crouched to keep out of sight." phil snorted, and quickened his pace. jerry put an extra few inches on his own stride and easily kept up. they passed a farmhouse--at good speed, for a dog came out and after a few suspicious sniffs proceeded to satisfy his appetite on phil's leg. a loud ripping noise told that he at least kept a souvenir of the visit. the dog's excited barking kept them company to the next farmhouse, which they passed as silently as possible, not particularly desiring to repeat the experience. "it was your whistling back there that scared up that dog--see if you can whistle a patch onto my leggins," phil suggested when they were once more surrounded by open fields. jerry did not answer, for just ahead of them the road forked and he was trying to remember which turn it was one took to get to the bridge. he had never gone this way, but he had once heard a farmer giving directions to a party of automobilists. however, phil unhesitatingly took the branch that cut in toward the river, so he said nothing for some time. "ever been over this road before?" he ventured to ask when the road suddenly became so rough that they stumbled at every step. "no--never been up this way. we always fish on the other side of the plum." "how do you know then that this is the right road?" "it turned in toward the river, didn't it? and the other road angled off toward tarryville." "but the bridge road is graveled all the way, and if this isn't blue clay i'll eat my hat. it might just be a private road to some farm, and the other road might have swung around after a bit. this muck-hole doesn't look good to me." "all the same, through those trees yonder i can see water. it's the old plum all right. shake a leg." "i think we'll gain time by shaking two legs--back to the fork. that's the plum, all right enough, but you'll walk through marsh all the way to the bridge if you try to follow the bank. i remember now: this is the old wood road. it hasn't been used since they cut timber on the jameson tract." jerry did not wait to finish his argument but had already gone back a good fifty feet of the way to the other road, when he noticed that phil was not following him. "what's the matter, phil?" "don't you think we've wasted enough time, without losing some more by going back?" "we'll lose more by going ahead. and we're losing now by standing still chewing the rag about it. come on." "i'm going ahead. you followed my lead this far; i guess it won't hurt you to follow it a little farther. i'm patrol leader, you know." jerry sensed a little resentment in phil's tone, and remembered that once or twice he had spoken to the scout leader just as he did to his chums--and his chums always looked to him for commands. "i'm not trying to boss you, phil, don't think that. but i _know_ that the other way is the best way, and i've _got_ to follow it. so you go ahead, and i'll wait for you at this end of the bridge." without further word he strode off on the back road. it was so dark that he might have done so safely, but he did not look back. nevertheless, a pleased grin spread over his face, for he was soon aware that phil was tagging along not many paces behind. that had always been the way. jerry was a born leader; the other boys followed him willingly because they never found any cause to lose confidence in his judgment. "phil, you're a genuine sport," was all he said as the other boy fell into step beside him as once more they reached the gravel roadway and turned into the right-hand branch. sooner than they expected they saw the gaunt skeleton of the upper bridgework against the dark sky. jerry did not permit himself an "i told you so," but he said instead: "we'll be in a pretty pickle if we get on the other side and find our boat gone." phil made no answer and in silence they walked across the hollow-echoing bridge. a series of giant stone steps led down to the river bank, and as soon as they reached bottom they saw that their fears were groundless, for there lay the _big four_ as jerry and dave had left her eighteen hours before. deep footprints in the mud bank, dimly visible in the dusk, told that someone had stopped to look the boat over. perhaps had the oars been handy, the boat might not have remained so safely. the boys were glad to relieve their shoulders of the pair they had taken turns in carrying, and without pausing to rest, they stepped into the boat, phil finding some difficulty in making the scout boat's oars fit the _big four's_ oarlocks. but at last they were off and jerry bent to his task. the _big four_ had been built for speed, and the craft was trimmed just right for getting the most with the least effort. the current was fairly swift here, but jerry hugged the east bank and took advantage of every eddy. it was not long before lost island swung into sight. "let me spell you off," suggested phil, but jerry shook his head. "after we land at the hill you can take her the rest of the way. i think i'll pull in at that little cove just ahead. it makes a little longer walk, but it's well out of sight of the island. who'll climb the hill!" "leave that to me. i kind of want to try out a little signaling stunt that dick and i have been figuring on. here's a good sandy stretch; let's beach her here." the boat grated on the pebbly shore; phil sprang lightly out, and jerry was left alone. he could hear phil scrunching over the rocks and through the brush; then all was still. jerry strained his eyes to see if he could make out the figure of dick, who must be almost directly opposite, but only the dense black of the wood met his gaze. he waited patiently for the gleam of the flashlight, but minute after minute slipped by, and no signal appeared. so he was somewhat surprised when after perhaps fifteen minutes he heard a footstep on the beach and he realized that phil was returning. "our scheme worked fine," announced the scout leader. "bet you never even saw dick's signal." "no, i didn't," confessed jerry. "good reason why. you see, i figured out that if you shoot a flash straight out in front of you very long everybody can see it. a quick flash--well, anyone who saw it might think it was just lightning or the interurban. so i just snapped about a dozen straight up into the air, until i got a return flash from dick. then i used this." he pulled out a little pocket mirror. "i pointed my light straight at the ground, and gave him a dot and dash message by holding the mirror in the light. some scheme, eh?" jerry merely grunted, but way down in his heart a deep respect was forming for these boy scouts and their resourcefulness. "just flash a few signals to those oars," he advised, taking his place in the stern. "and be careful with that left oar--she squeaks if you pull her too hard." but phil soon showed that he needed no advice about handling a boat. without a sound--without a ripple, almost--they moved away from shore and cut out into the current. "safe to get out into line with the island, i guess. if they're watching, it's the shore they'll be most suspicious of." "they? we've only seen one out there." "maybe. but i'm betting on a pair of them at least. it's about time for the boys to--listen to those indians, would you? i'm afraid they're overdoing it a bit." from the far shore, out of sight behind lost island, rose a hubbub of cries that sounded as if the island were about to be attacked by a war party of sioux. a boy scout yell sounded out, the voices of dave and frank heard above the rest. "guess your two must have deserted your banner and joined the eagles," teased phil. the island lay dead ahead of them, dark and still. both boys had a shivery feeling of being watched, but no sign was apparent as they floated in behind the point of the island and noiselessly beached the boat. "we'd best stay close together," suggested jerry in a whisper. "and by all means don't whisper--talk in an undertone. a whisper carries twice as far," countered phil. jerry marked down one more to the score of the boy scouts. but there was little need for talk. the brush was heavy, broken by thickets of plum trees and an occasional sapling of hickory; the ground was boggy in spots, and once jerry sank almost to his knees in oozy mud. a screech owl hooted in a tree close by, and cold shivers ran up and down their backbones. unbroken by path or opening, the island wilderness lay before them. they walked hours it seemed, trying their best not to advertise their coming in breaking limbs and rustling leaves, for the night was uncannily still. it was a great relief, therefore, when the underbrush suddenly gave way to a few low trees and after that open ground. jerry was for plunging right ahead, relying on the darkness, but phil caught his arm. "circle it," he commanded, and jerry, little used to obeying orders as he was, at once saw the wisdom of the idea and agreed. they were nearly halfway around the open plot when they struck a path, evidently leading to the river. but the other end must go somewhere, and they strained their eyes into the darkness. "a house, i do believe," mumbled phil. "shall we risk going closer?" "got to. not a sound now. let's take off our shoes." in their stocking feet they stealthily drew nearer the dark blot against the background. when they were within twenty feet they saw it was not a cabin, but one end of a long, narrow, shed-like structure, perhaps twenty feet wide and running far back into the darkness. they approached it cautiously and began feeling carefully along the higher side for some sort of door or opening. they had gone a good thirty feet, their nerves tingling with the hope of next-instant discovery, when phil broke the silence with a low-toned sentence. "there's a house or cabin of some kind less than twenty feet away." jerry did not look. his groping fingers had found something that felt like a door-edge. his hand closed over a knob. "here's the door!" he exclaimed eagerly, and then felt his heart almost stop beating. the knob had been turned in his hand! but before he could say a word, a sudden "sh!" sounded from his companion. "did you hear it?" gasped phil. "what?" asked jerry, his voice trembling in spite of him. but phil did not answer--there was no need. from the cabin came a sound that set every nerve on edge. it was a groan--the groan of someone in great agony. chapter ix a rescue that failed in the excitement of hearing that groan, jerry forgot every other thought. both boys jumped at once to the same conclusion: tod was in that cabin! perhaps he had been hurt, or perhaps, even, that ruffian was mistreating him. with one accord they broke for the cabin, making for where a thin pencil of light hinted at a door. they wasted no time fumbling for the knob, but put all the strength of their shoulders against the opening. the door gave, suddenly, and they tumbled over each other into a dimly lighted room. it was fortunate for them that there was no one there, for in falling phil overturned a chair, which in turn managed to become entangled in jerry's legs, who came to the floor with a suddenness that did not give phil time to get out of the way. half stunned, they lay there panting, till a renewal of the moaning aroused them to quick action. phil jumped to his feet and caught up a leg of the chair, that had been broken loose in the triple fall. it was well to have some sort of weapon. the sounds seemed to have come from above, where a trap door indicated a loft or attic of some sort. the boys looked wildly about for some means of getting up to the trap door, but the light of the smoky kerosene lamp revealed nothing. the chair might have helped them, but it was wrecked beyond hope. "perhaps if we called to him, he might answer," ventured jerry huskily. "first see if you can reach the trap door if you stand on my shoulders." phil made a stirrup of his hands and gave jerry a leg up. wabbling uncertainly, but managing to straighten himself, jerry caught at the edge of the opening. "nailed!" he exclaimed disappointedly as he jumped to the floor. "shall we call?" phil nodded. "tod. oh, tod!" only silence. again they called. "tod--tod fulton." there was an answer this time, but not of the sort nor from the direction the boys expected. it was more like a whine than a groan this time, and it came from the far side of the room. for the first time the boys noticed that there was a door there, partly open. they made a rush for it, jerry in the lead. but he got no farther than the threshold. as he reached it, the door was flung open in his face. in the doorway stood a sixteen-year-old girl, a slim, black-haired slip of a thing, her black eyes snapping. one hand was doubled up into a fist that would have made any boy laugh, but there was no laughter in the other hand. it brandished a wicked looking hand-axe, and it was evident from the way she handled it that there was strength in those scrawny arms. "you get out of here!" she commanded, advancing a step. jerry backed away hastily, but phil only laughed, trying to balance himself on the two and a half legs of the wrecked chair. "i've seen you before, lizzie, and you don't scare me a bit with that meat axe." "it's no meat axe; it's a wood axe--look out for your heads," she retorted scornfully. "clear out of here or i'll make kindling of both of you." "put down that cleaver, lizzie, and let's talk sense. we came here to get tod fulton--he's my cousin, you know----" but that was as far as he got. the girl, her face showing a determination that made nonchalant phil jump up from his chair and beat a quick retreat, walked up on them, the axe flashing viciously back and forth before her. "you're going to get off this island," she exclaimed, "and you're going to do it quick. no tricks now! the first one who makes a break gets this axe in the back--and i can throw straight. about face, now. march!" there was nothing to do but obey. sheepishly enough the boys turned and meekly let her drive them out into the dark. as she passed the lamp she caught it down from the bracket on the wall with one hand. thus they marched across the open ground, along the narrow path and out on the waterfront. "our boat is down at the other end of the island" remarked phil, turning his head ever so slightly. "i'll have my father bring it over to you in the morning," answered the girl relentlessly. "i see your friends waiting for you over on the other side, so it wouldn't be fair to keep them in suspense." "you're surely not going to make us try to swim it?" pleaded phil, pretending great consternation, hoping that he might delay their departure till something might happen to give them the advantage. "that's not all i am going to do." setting down her lamp on a convenient rock, and changing her axe to her left hand, she stooped over and picked up a pebble. with a quick jerk she drew back her arm and then shot it out, boy-fashion the boys heard the stone hum as it sailed through the air. an instant, and then a howl of pain arose from one of the scouts dancing about the blazing camp fire on the other shore. it was a good hundred yards away. "i just did that to show you what'd happen to you if you didn't head straight for that gang of pirates over there," she said grimly. "you're _some_--tomboy!" exclaimed phil, admiringly, jerry thought, but the girl only laughed sarcastically. "you first," she demanded. "you're just watching for a chance to catch me off my guard. i'm onto you." phil had no choice, so without more ado, he plunged in and began cutting the water neatly in the direction of the camp fire. "he swims well, doesn't he?" remarked the girl, so easily that jerry could have sworn she was about ready to laugh. "he sure does!" he agreed. "he's got me beat a mile. say," he coaxed, "we didn't mean any harm. we were just looking for a boy who was supposed to have got drowned up the river a piece but we believe landed here on lost island. just tell me whether he's alive or not, and we won't bother you any more." "oh, you're no bother. in fact, i rather enjoyed your little visit--though i will admit you scared me a bit when you held the knob of the door to the hangar----" "hangar? what's that?" "it's--it's french for--woodshed," the girl stammered. "it's your turn now," motioning toward the water. "but won't you tell me about tod?" "did you ask my father about him?" "if it _was_ your father, yes." "and he didn't tell you!" "no, and he wouldn't let us search the island." "well, i'm my father's daughter. so into the briny deep with you. i hope the fish don't bite you." "but, look here," began jerry, then fell silent and moved toward the waters edge, for the girl had picked up a handful of large pebbles and stood plumping them meaningly into the river. the water was warm, and aside from his clothes, jerry did not mind the swim. after he had stroked along perhaps a third of the way, he turned on his back. the light had disappeared from shore. he had a moment's impulse to turn back, but was afraid she might be waiting in the darkness to greet him with a laugh and an invitation to take to the water again. he turned once more and swam steadily across the current. but after a little, once more he turned on his back, only kicking occasionally to keep himself afloat. he fancied he had heard some noise that did not belong with the night. there it was again, that regular beat as of wood striking against wood. he listened intently, trying to place the sound. finally, it dawned on him that it was a boat, rowed by means of a pair of loose oars. his mind worked quickly. it could not be the boy scout boat, for the sound was not right for that. it could only be the man of the island, "lizzie's" father--she had as much as said he was away. at any rate, jerry decided, he would wait there and find out. if the worst came to the worst he could always dive out of sight. nearer and nearer came the boat. jerry lay in the water with only his nose showing. he was too heavy-boned to be very good at floating, but the barest movement of hands or feet kept him from going under. at first he could make out nothing, but as his eyes focused more sharply he distinguished a slow-moving shape against the gray of the sky. it was barely twenty feet away, headed almost directly at him. a few noiseless strokes put him inside the boat's path, but when he stopped paddling he realized to his horror that the boat had changed direction and was cutting in toward the island. it was almost upon him when he dived. he was not quick enough. the landward oar caught him a flat blow across his eyes. blinded, dazed, his mouth full of water, he flung up his arms. he had a vague sense of having caught hold of something, and he held on. through a sort of mist he heard a voice saying laughingly: "hit a snag, john. better be careful or you'll wreck the ship in sight of harbor." little by little jerry's head cleared and he realized that he had caught hold of the stern of the boat. he could not see over the edge, but he could tell that there were two people in the boat, both men. they talked fitfully, but for the most part their voices came to jerry only as meaningless mumbles. once more the dark outline of lost island lay before him, and in jerry's heart arose a new hope that perhaps this time he would not come away empty-handed. the boat grounded on the beach where he and phil had stood only a few minutes before. the man who had been at the oars jumped out and pulled the boat well up on shore. jerry, finding that he could touch bottom, had let go and now stood well hidden in the water. "you might as well wait here in the boat," said the one who had gone ashore. "i won't be gone but a minute." he moved up the bank. it was the same man jerry had encountered twice before on his island visits. but who was the man in the boat? jerry wished he dared come closer. the minutes passed slowly, and the water did not feel as warm as it had at first. he was greatly relieved when once more he heard the rustle of someone coming through the tall grass. but though the sound came nearer and nearer, jerry, his nerves literally on end, found the wait a long one. would the man never get there? but the delay was quickly explained. there were two instead of one crunching across the beach, and the other stumbled as he walked and would have fallen more than once had it not been for the supporting arm of his companion. jerry could have shouted from joy had he dared, for some instinct told him that that swaying form belonged to no one but his chum, tod fulton. and then, in an instant, the mystery was all made clear--at least for the instant. the man in the boat rose and struck a match so that the other could see to help wobbly tod to a seat. as the light flared up full, jerry had a good sight of the face of the man who stood waiting. it was mr. fulton! chapter x "to-morrow is the day!" and then it was that jerry saw that the temporary clearing of the mystery only made things darker than ever. for, why should tod be rescued in this weird fashion? why had the man refused to let tod's friends come on the island? and why, why had mr. fulton laughed at jerry's story--and yet followed his clue in this stealthy way? jerry, up to his nose in the water, and deeper than that in perplexity, saw that the whole affair was really no longer the mystery of tod fulton's disappearance, but the mystery of lost island. so, although he now felt safe from bodily harm, because of mr. fulton's presence, he made no sign, but waited there a scant dozen feet beyond the stern of the boat. he heard tod answer a few low-toned questions of his father, but could not make out either question or answer. he saw mr. fulton pick up the oars and poise them for a sweep, dropping the blades into the water to exchange a last sentence with the shadow who stood waiting on the bank. "everything all right, then, billings!" "varnish on the left plane cracked pretty badly, mr. fulton. i had to scrape it off and refinish it. it really ought to have another day to dry." jerry repeated, puzzled, to himself: "left plane--what in thunder's that?" billings went on: "you won't forget to bring the timer. elizabeth will get it at the usual place if you can leave it by noon." "it'll be there, billings." not a word more was said as the boat was swung about and headed out into the stream, save that mr. fulton chuckled: "old billings rather had you worried, eh, son, until he gave you my message?" tod laughed, so heartily that jerry, who had watched his chance to cut out into the wake of the boat and hold on behind with one hand, could not himself forbear a little happy ripple. "what was that?" exclaimed mr. fulton, a full minute after. "i don't know," answered tod. "i was waiting for it to come again. sounded like--only _he_ couldn't be here." "who couldn't?" "it sounded like a laugh--and there's only one person, outside of a billygoat, who's got a gurgle like that." "your wetting didn't tame you down any, did it? who's the goat you had in mind?" "jerry king--_well_, what in the world!" over the back of the boat clambered a dripping, wrathful figure. "i'll be switched if i'm going to be dragged along at the tail of this scow and be insulted any longer. i laugh like a billygoat, do i? for two cents i'd scuttle the ship!" but jerry's anger was more put on than real, and under mr. fulton's banter and tod's grateful appreciation of the attempted rescue, he soon calmed down. "what was the matter with you back there on the island? we heard you groaning as if you'd green-appled yourself double." "groaning? me groaning? huh! say, next time you go bearding damsels in distress and rescuing castaway fishermen, you learn how to tell the difference between a bulldog who's whining to get out and get at you, and a wounded hero. it's a good thing you didn't have a chance to follow up that 'groan'--you'd have _groan_ wiser." "one more like that, tod," suggested mr. fulton wearily, "and i think i'll take a hand myself." "but why," jerry wanted to know, "didn't you come back home right away--if you weren't hurt?" "oh, but i was. you try going over that dam once and see if your insides-out don't get pretty well mixed up. i got a terrific thump on the back of the head when the boat turned turtle, and if i hadn't had a leg under the seat, i'd be in davy jones' locker right now. when i came to i didn't know whether i was me or the boat. i had gallons of water in me and--and i think i swallowed a worm or two; the bait can got tipped over--and all the worms were gone--somewhere." "but why did you stay----" jerry began, feeling vaguely that tod was talking so much to keep him from asking questions. but he was not allowed even to ask this one, for mr. fulton interrupted with: "i got busy right away after you had told me about your lost island clue, and soon got a message through to--to mr. billings there. when he told me tod was safe and sound, i thought i'd wait until i had finished some important business i just couldn't leave. that's how it was so late before i got here." "mr. billings came and got you, didn't he?" remarked jerry, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice. if they had a secret that was none of his business, _he_ wouldn't pry. "yes," said mr. fulton, and made no further explanation. "but there were two of you on the island after me, weren't there? who was the other hero?" tod wanted to know. "where were you, that you knew there were two of us?" "i was all doubled up in that little anteroom where the dog was--doubled up laughing." then he added hastily, thinking he had teased poor jerry far enough: "but i was locked in." "why locked in, if mr. billings had gone to bring your father? afraid you'd up and rescue yourself?" jerry's tone was downright sarcastic. "no, jerry--you see, the island--that is," looking toward mr. fulton as if for permission to go on, "that is, there's something going on on lost island that mr. billings figures isn't anybody else's business, and he didn't want to take chances of my nosing around." "i see," said jerry dryly. "so of course rather than row you across to dry land himself he brought your father here to get you. it's all as plain as the wart on a pumpkinhead's nose!" "now, jerry, you're getting way up in the air without any cause. i'll tell you this much, because i think you've got a right to know: mr. billing's secret really is mine. just as soon as i dare i'll tell you all about it. but what became of your friend--if there _were_ two of you?" "i was so peeved that i forgot all about phil. it's phil fulton----" "what!" cried tod. "cousin phil. where is he?" "standing on the bank just opposite lost island and figuring out how soon he ought to give me up for drowned or hand-axed by a savage female. he may have gone for the sheriff by this time--or the coroner. better take me to shore here and i'll go back." mr. fulton began pulling the boat toward shore. "how did he happen to get into this?" he asked. jerry told him the whole story of the encounter with the boy scouts. "they've pitched camp there, so i guess i'll see if they can dry me out and put me up for the night," he finished. as the boat neared shore tod began to show signs of suppressed excitement. finally, as jerry was about to jump out into the shallow water, being already soaked through, tod began coaxingly: "why couldn't i go on with jerry, dad? you told me you'd let me go camping with the bunch, don't you remember? and i promised phil i'd show him the best bass lake in the country----" "i ought to take you back to town and let doc burgess look you over. maybe the bones are pressing on your brain where you bumped your head. you act like it. but the fact is i _didn't_ want to go back to watertown--i ought to chase right down to chester for that timer. it was promised for to-morrow, and there isn't a minute to be lost. there aren't any falls down this way, are there?" he asked with mock seriousness. "come on, dad, say i can go!" begged tod. "we-l-l," hesitated mr. fulton, "suppose we say i'll let you stay till morning--or night, rather. then we'll see." jerry jumped out at this point and splashed his way to shore. he had a feeling that the two might want to talk without being overheard. apparently he was right, as for a good five minutes the two conversed in low tones. jerry tried his best not to hear what was said, but every now and then a sentence reached his ears. but it was so much greek as far as he was concerned. he had walked inland a bit, finally striking the narrow path that fishermen had cut along the top of the high bank. it swung back toward the edge, cut off from view by a rank growth of willows. he noticed that the boat had drifted downstream until it now stood almost opposite him, and only a few feet from shore. thus it was that, as mr. fulton backed water with his left-hand oar and rammed the nose of the boat toward the shelving beach, he heard one complete sentence, distinct and understandable. "it's up to you, tod, to get them away. we can't afford any complications at this stage of the game. to-morrow is the day!" "trust me, dad!" exclaimed tod, going up and giving his father's shoulder a squeeze. jerry waited for no more. bending low, he scurried far down the path, so that tod could have no suspicion that his chum had overheard. "are you coming?" he shouted when he felt that he had gone far enough. "hold up a second and i'll be with you. good night, dad." "good night, mr. fulton," shouted jerry in turn, then waited for tod. the journey to the boy scout camp was made in silence, for jerry did not feel that he dared ask any more questions, and tod volunteered no further explanation. just outside the ring of light cast by the deserted camp fire, however, jerry halted and asked: "thought what you'll tell _them?_" "why, no. just what i told you, jerry." "you can't--unless you tell them more. they'd never be satisfied with _that_." "i'm sorry, jerry. i'd like to tell you the whole yarn, but--but you see how it is." "i don't but i guess i can wait. only i do think you ought to have something cooked up that would stop their questions. will you leave it to me?" "surest thing you know. what'll you say?" "that's my secret. you play up to my leads, that's all you've got to do. _hello_, bunch!" he shouted. "wow! hooray! there he is!" came cries of delight from the darkness in the direction of the river, and a moment later the boys, who had been almost frantic with worry over the non-appearance of jerry, came trooping up. when they found tod with him, their joy was unbounded. their excited questions and exclamations of surprise gave jerry a much-needed instant in which to collect his story-inventing wits. at last phil quieted down his dancing mob and put the question jerry had been awaiting: "how did you do it?" "that's the funny part of it. i didn't. tod's dad came along and did it for me." "i hope he beat up that old grouch----" "huh, you got another guess coming. they're old friends----yes," as a cry of unbelief went up, "that's why tod was in no hurry to be rescued. his name's billings, and mr. fulton used to be in business with him. is yet, isn't he, tod?" "uhuh--i think so." "well, you may know there's fish around lost island. billings is what i call a fish hog. he don't want anybody to know about the place--wants it all for himself. tod drifts onto the island and the man can't very well throw _him_ off, half drowned as he is. then, when he gets the water out of tod, all but his brain, he finds it's the son of his partner, and he can't very well throw him off _then_. there's a girl on that mound out there, and she comes in with a string of the biggest fish you ever saw. you couldn't drive tod off with a club after that. after the fish, i mean, not the girl. he gets a message to his father, and makes his plans to stay there all summer, but dad comes down to-night and spoils his plans by dragging him off. he kind of thinks he doesn't want all the fish dragged out by the tails--he likes to hook a few big ones himself. i'd got out into the middle of the plum when i heard the sound of prodigious weeping--it was tod, saying a last farewell to the big fishes--and the little girl. "so i swam back. and here he is and here i am, and we're both pledged not to go back on lost island." "righto!" cried tod, in great relief, jerry could plainly see. "and dad asked me to coax you chaps to keep away from old billings--he's a regular bear, anyway. but to make up for that, to-morrow i'm going to take you to the swellest pickerel lake you ever laid eyes on." "you mean _bass_ lake, don't you?" asked jerry maliciously. "pickerel and bass," agreed tod without an instant's hesitation. "let's turn in; we want to make an early start." it was late, however, before the camp was finally quiet, for someone started a story, and that brought on another and another, till half of the scouts fell asleep sitting bolt upright. but as one lone boy, the last awake, rolled near the fire in his borrowed blanket, he chuckled knowingly to himself and said: "foxy old tod! dad sure can 'trust' him. but i'm just going to be curious enough to block his little game so far as i'm concerned. _i'm_ going to stick around!" chapter xi a mid-air miracle jerry had a hard time next morning explaining just why he couldn't go along on the proposed fishing trip. tod was inclined to accept his excuses at face value, but dave and frank could not understand why jerry should so suddenly about-face in his notions. just the day before he had talked as if he was prepared to stay a week. but his promise of a speedy return--with his own fishing tackle--finally silenced their grumblings, especially when he agreed to make their peace with two mothers who would be asking some pretty hard questions on their own return. but jerry was not to get away without taking part in an incident that almost provided a disagreeable end for the adventure. it was while they were all at breakfast. tod had been giving a glorious account of the thrilling sport he had enjoyed on his last trip to the bass lake he promised to guide them to. suddenly, in the midst of a sentence, he stopped dead. his jaw dropped. he positively gasped. "_there she is!_" then his face became blank. after a hasty glance about the circle of astonished faces, he went on with his fish story. but he was not allowed to go far. it was phil, taking a cousin's rights, who put the sharp question. "is your mind wandering, or what? 'there she is!' who is _she_--and where? we don't want to hear your old fish yarn anyway." "i guess he's still thinking of that island girl," suggested jerry, realizing that tod had put himself into some kind of a hole, and wishing to help his chum out. but phil was not to be so easily satisfied. "there's something mighty queer about this whole proposition. that yarn of yours last night, jerry, didn't sit very easy on my pillow, and it doesn't rest very easy on my breakfast, either. what's the idea? what you trying to hide, you two?" "nothing," said tod, and jerry repeated the word. "nothing! you make me tired. now, out with it. i swam across that creek last night in my clothes on account of you, and i figure you've got a right to tell me why." "and i figure you've got a right to believe me when i told you why last night." "you didn't. you left it to jerry to cook up a story that would keep us from asking questions. and now you yell out, 'there she is!' and sit there gaping at the sky, with your mouth wide open as if you expected a crow to lay an egg on your tongue. what does it all mean?" "it means i'm still capable of taking care of my own business!" snapped tod. "oh--very well. after this i'll let you." it was an uncomfortable group that sat about the rest of the breakfast, even after tod had begged his cousin's pardon for ungrateful loss of temper, and phil had said that it was "all right." jerry was afraid for awhile that the fishing trip would be called off, but in the boisterous horseplay that went with the washing of the scanty dishes, all differences were forgotten, especially when phil, scuffling in friendly fashion, put tod down on his back and pulled that squirming wrestler's nose till he shouted "enough!" it was with feelings of mingled amusement and relief that jerry watched the noisy crowd pile into the two boats, the scout boat and the _big four_, and paddle downstream, soon to be lost sight of behind lost island. his satisfaction was somewhat lessened by the fact that phil had felt it necessary that one of their number remain behind to stand guard over the camp, but jerry was sure that he would have no great trouble in keeping away from frank willis, trusting that "budge" would live up to his reputation. he began well, for hardly was the camp deserted before he went back to his blankets. "now some folks like fishing," he yawned, "and i do too when the fish don't bite too fast; but i like sleep. it's good for what ails you, and it's good if nothing ails you. take it in regular doses or between meals--it always straightens you out." jerry did not argue with him. a few minutes later his regular breathing told the world at large and jerry in particular that so far as one budge was concerned the coast was clear. as a matter of fact, jerry did not feel that there would be anything to see until late in the afternoon at best. the conversation between mr. fulton and the man billings had seemed to indicate that nothing out of the ordinary was to happen that day, but mr. fulton's parting words to tod gave jerry hope. "this is the day!" he had said. at any rate, he slipped out of camp and scouted about for a comfortable spot in which to keep an eye on lost island. but after he had sat there a half hour, he began to have twinges of the same disease that afflicted budge and he saw that it would be necessary for him to move about a bit in order to stay awake. he regretted having left the camp without a fishing pole; that would at least give him something to do to pass the time away. with something like that in mind he started back toward the shady place where he had left budge snoozing. but as the walk started his blood circulating again, and his brain became active once more, he had a new idea. "old tod's a sly fox," he said to himself. "he's not going to be among the missing when the fun is on. he's going to take them down to his bass lake, and then he's going to slip away. he'll have to come back by land, so he'll probably take them to last shot lake. it'll take them an hour to get there, but he can come back afoot in half that time if he's in a hurry--and i guess he is. he most likely will hang around half an hour before he thinks it's safe to make his getaway. that's two hours all told. in some fifteen or twenty minutes he ought to come skulking along through the woods. "there's that hill yonder--it ought to make a good spy-post. little jerry bids these parts a fond adieu." something like a strong quarter of a mile down the river, and perhaps that much inland, stood a lonesome hill, almost bare of trees save a clump of perhaps a dozen on the very summit. it was an ideal hiding place. leaving the road after cutting through the river timber and following it a few hundred yards, he plunged into a dense growth of scrub oak and hazel brush that extended almost to the base of his hill. he came to one bare spot, perhaps an acre in extent, and was about to leave the shelter of the brush for the comparatively easy going of the weedy grass, when, almost opposite him, he saw a figure emerge from the trees. at first he thought it was tod, and he chuckled to himself as he thought how quickly his guess had been proved true. but when a second stepped out close behind the first, jerry realized that neither one was his friend, even before he noticed that both were carrying rifles. a pair of hunters, no doubt, jerry surmised, although he wondered idly what they would be hunting at this season of the year. rabbits were "wormy" and the law prohibited the shooting of almost everything else. but "city hunters," jerry derided, "from their clothes. they think bluejays and crows are good sport." that the hunters were looking for birds was evident, for they kept their eyes turned toward the tree-tops. thus it was that they did not see jerry crouching in the brush a scant dozen feet from where they broke into the woods again. he was near enough to overhear them perfectly, but not a word could he understand, for they were talking very earnestly together in some outlandish tongue that, as jerry said, made him seasick to try to follow. but as they talked they pointed excitedly, first toward the sky and then straight ahead, and that part of their conversation was perfectly understandable to the boy. a sudden wild thought entered his mind. here were two hunters out in the woods at a time when no real sportsmen carried anything but rods and landing nets. the mystery of their purpose reminded him of another mystery, and immediately his mind connected the two, even before he noticed the constant recurrence of a word that sounded much as a foreigner would pronounce "lost island." jerry realized, even as the thought passed through his mind, that it was the wildest kind of guess, but it was enough to set him stealthily picking his way through the brush in the wake of the two. he saw, just in time to avoid running smack into them, that just before they reached the road, although now out of the heavier woods, they had stopped and were talking together more excitedly than ever. something had happened, jerry realized at once, but he could not puzzle out what it was, although he looked and listened as intently as they seemed to be doing. he was about to give it up in disgust, when he became conscious of a queer droning noise, as of a swarm of bees, or a distant threshing machine. strangely, the sound did not seem to be coming from the woods or fields about him, but from the blank sky itself. then he remembered how tod had acted at breakfast--how he too, like these men, had been apparently staring into space. jerry read the newspapers; he was an eager student of one of the scientific magazines; he had sat in mr. fulton's basement workshop and listened to many a discussion of the latest wonders of invention. but even then he did not at once realize that the sound he had been hearing really came from the sky, and that the purring noise was the whir of the propellers of an aeroplane. he looked for a full minute at the soaring speck against the blue sky before he exclaimed aloud. "i'll be darned--an airship!" fortunately, the two men were too engaged to pay any attention to sounds right beside them. but jerry glanced hastily in their direction as he dropped back into the shelter of a big clump of elderberry. then he looked again. there could be no doubt the two were following the flight of the aeroplane. they stepped off a few feet to the right and jerry could see only their shoulders and heads above the bushes. he was curious to see better what they were doing, but he dared not cross the open ground between. so instead he turned his attention again to the soaring man-bird. it was coming closer. it swung down lower and circled in over lost island, barely a hundred feet above the tree-tops. a sudden cry from the two men drew his eager eyes away from the approaching aircraft, but he looked back just in time to witness a wonderful sight. motionless, poised like a soaring hawk, the aeroplane, its propeller flashing in the sunlight, hung over lost island. for fully six seconds it remained there, not moving an inch. suddenly it lurched, dropped half the distance to the trees, the yellow planes snapping like gun-shots. it looked as if it would be wrecked, and jerry started forward as if to go to the rescue. in the half instant he had looked away, the machine had righted and purring like an elephant-size pussy, was darting out over the water. a cheer sounded faintly from lost island; jerry wanted to cheer himself. now he heard another kind of sound, but this time there was no doubt in his mind as to its source. there could be no mistaking the put-put-put of a single cylinder motor boat. it was coming up plum run, probably from the "city"--chester. he could see it swinging around into the channel from behind lost island. it crept close along shore, and with a final "put!" came to a stop just where the boat had landed the night before with mr. fulton. three men crowded forward and jumped to shore; one of them, jerry could have sworn, was mr. fulton himself. as if the pilot of the aeroplane had been waiting for their coming he circled back toward the island. he had climbed far into the blue, but came down a steep slant that brought him within two hundred feet of earth almost before one could gather his wits to measure the terrific drop. out across plum run he swept in a wide circle, and jerry saw that the aeroplane would pass almost directly overhead. he had forgotten all about the two men by this time, so keen was his interest in the daring aviator. he certainly had nerve, to go on with his flight after the accident that had so nearly ended his career only a minute back. and then jerry was treated to a sight that made him rub his eyes in amazement. the accident was repeated--it had been no accident. now only a hundred feet up, directly above him, the big machine seemed to quiver with a sudden increase or change of power. a rasping, ear-racking sound--a spurt of blue vapor--and the aeroplane did what no other flying machine had ever done before; it stopped stock-still in mid-air. jerry could see every detail of the big machine, its glistening canvas, its polished aluminum motor and taut wires and braces. he could even see the pilot, leaning far over to one side, a smile of satisfaction on his face. jerry could hardly resist shouting a word of greeting to the bold aeronaut. he did shout, but it was a cry of horror, for all in a moment, a streak of flame seemed to leap out of the motor, there was a fearful hiss of escaping gas, a report that fairly shook the tree-tops, and with planes crumpling under the tremendous pressure of the air rushing past as it fell, the aeroplane plunged to earth. yet, even in his intense excitement, jerry, as he raced to where the flaming machine had fallen, caught at a fleeting impression: there had been two explosions, and the first seemed to come from close beside him. the aeroplane had come to earth a good hundred yards away, and jerry made all speed in that direction. he passed the spot where the two men had been standing--they were still there, and seemed in no hurry to go to the rescue. one of them, jerry noticed as he rushed by, shouting "quick!" had just thrown his gun under his arm, but the action did not impress the boy at the time as having any significance. he raced on, the flaming wreck now in sight. he fairly flew through the last dense thicket and jumped out, just in time to collide with another hurrying figure. when the two picked themselves up, jerry saw that it was tod. "hurry, jerry," he cried. "i'm afraid that poor billings is killed!" chapter xii an empty rifle shell in that few steps till they reached the smoking mass of wreckage, many things became clear to jerry. he realized that lost island had been merely a building ground for mr. fulton's experiments in aeronautics, that this sorry looking ruin was his invention. he remembered the long, low shed on the island--that was the workshop. then they were at the verge of the twisted and wrecked machine, frantically tugging at rods and splintered wood in an effort to get at the unconscious form covered by the debris. fortunately there was no great weight to lift, and there was really no fire once the smoke of the explosion had cleared away. in a very few seconds they had dragged the man clear and laid him out flat on his back in a grassy spot, where tod remained to fan the man's face while jerry hurried toward camp for water. blackened and bleeding as the man was, jerry readily recognized him as billings. he found budge startled by the explosion and hesitating about leaving the camp unguarded to go to the rescue. jerry's shouted command brought him galloping across the field with a pail of water, and the two boys made good speed on the way back. they found the man still unconscious but beginning to writhe about in pain. "i think his leg's broken," cried tod, his face white with the strain of helpless waiting. "from the way he doubles up every little bit i think he must be hurt inside. the cuts that are bleeding don't seem to be very bad. let me have the water." "do you suppose we really ought to----" began jerry, but paused, for budge had answered his question effectually. without a word he stooped over the moaning man. outer clothes were taken off in a trice. without jarring the man about, almost without moving him, garment by garment budge gradually removed, replaced, examined, until every part of the man's anatomy had been looked over. finally he straightened up, and for the first time the other two, who had stood helplessly by, saw how set and white the young scout's face was. "leg's broken all right," he said slowly. "so's his arm--and at least two ribs. maybe more. side's pretty badly torn and i think he's bleeding internally. we've got to get a doctor without a second's loss of time. tod, you chase along like a good fellow and see how quick you can get to a telephone. jerry, lend a hand here and we'll fix a splint for his leg--lucky it's fractured below the knee or we'd have a time. i don't know whether i can do anything for his ribs or not. hustle up, tod--what you standing there gaping for?" "where--where'd you learn to do things like that?" blurted tod, as he started away. "what? this?" in surprise. "every scout knows how to do simple things like this." and he turned back to his bandaging, for he had brought along the camp kit, with its gauze and cotton. out came his big jackknife and he cut a thumb-sized willow wand, which he split and trimmed. in less than no time he had snapped the bone back into place and wound a professional looking bandage about the home-made splint. he was just about to turn his attention to the injured side when a great crackling in the brush caused both boys to turn. three men came bounding across the open space, the foremost, mr. fulton. "is he alive?" he exclaimed before he recognized the two boys. "yes," answered jerry, "but he's hurt pretty bad--inside, budge says. tod just----" "tod! he here? did he go after a doctor?" "here he comes now. did you get the doctor?" shouted budge and jerry together. "i got his office. it's our own doctor burgess. i got mrs. burgess and she says the doctor is out this way, and she'll get him by telephone--she can locate him better than i could. he ought to be here most any minute. i'm to watch for him along the road." tod darted back toward the line of bushes that marked the highway. but it was a good half hour before a shout proclaimed the coming of the doctor, and in that time budge had had a chance to show more evidences of his scout training. after a hurried trip back to camp he fashioned bandages that held the broken ribs in place; he bound the scalp wound neatly, and stopped the flow of blood from an ugly scratch on the man's thigh. the others stood about, helping only as he directed. it was with a wholesome respect that they eyed him when the job was finished. but it took the doctor to sum their admiration up in one crisp "bully--couldn't have done it better myself." he felt about gently and at last straightened up and remarked: "he's good enough to move, but not very far. where's the nearest farmhouse?" "half a mile, nearly," answered tod. "i think he'd want to be taken--home," mr. fulton said hesitatingly. "if we could move him to the river bank i guess we could get him across all right--to lost island, you know. his daughter's there to nurse him." "lost island?" questioned the doctor, raising his eyebrows. "we-l-l--son, can you make a stretcher?" turning to budge. "come on, jerry. back in a minute," called budge over his shoulder to the doctor. jerry followed to the scout camp, where budge caught up a pair of stout saplings that had been cut for tent poles but had not been needed. "grab up a couple blankets," he directed, setting off again through the brush on a run. jerry was well out of breath, having contrived to trip himself twice over the trailing blankets, when he finally rejoined the group. budge reached out for the blankets and soon had a practical stretcher made, onto which the injured man was gently lifted. mr. fulton and one of the strangers took hold each of an end and they set out directly for the bank of plum run. for the first time jerry had a chance to observe the two who had come with tod's father. heavy-set, rather stolid chaps they were, just beginning to show a paunch, and gray about the temples. they looked good-natured enough but gave the impression of being set in their ways, a judgment jerry had no occasion to change later. they spoke with an odd sort of accent but were evidently used to conversing in english, although the first glance told that they were not americans. they were plainly but expensively dressed; they looked like men of wealth rather than like business men. they had come to see mr. fulton's invention tried out, jerry surmised, and, if it proved successful, perhaps to buy it. those two men he had seen with the rifles were foreigners too, but of a different station in life and, jerry was sure, belonging under a different flag. they were soon down to the water's edge, where was moored the launch jerry had heard chugging over to the island not long before. blankets were brought from the scout camp and piled on the launch floor to make a comfortable bed, and poor billings was carefully lifted from the stretcher and laid in the boat. the doctor and mr. fulton got in. the two men remained on the bank. mr. fulton looked at them questioningly, but their heavy faces gave no sign. so he asked: "you will wait for me, i trust! i don't want you to feel that this--accident----" he hesitated over the word--"makes the scheme a failure. there is something about it all that i can't understand, but a close examination may reveal----" "ah, yes," answered the shorter of the two, "we will want to be just as sure of the failure as we insisted on being of the success. but you understand of course that we feel--ah--feel considerably--ah--disappointed in the trial flight. oh, yes, we will wait for you. you will not be long?" "just long enough for the doctor to find out what needs to be done. that slim youngster there is my son tod. he knows almost as much about my--about _it_ as i do. tod, you take care of mr. lewis and mr. harris till i come back. you'd best stay close to the _skyrocket_; we don't want to take any chances, you know." all the time he had been talking he had been tinkering with the motor, which was having a little balky spell. at his last words jerry spoke up hastily: "i'll chase over and keep an eye on the _skyrocket_ while the rest of you take your time," and he hurried off, adding to himself: "_skyrocket's_ a good name, 'cause it sure went up in a blaze of glory, and came down like the burnt stick." but he had other things in mind besides the mere watching of the wreck. at mr. fulton's hesitation over the word "accident" a picture had popped into his mind--two men carrying rifles and peering up over the tree-tops. he was destined to see them again, for as he crossed the road he heard a crackling in the underbrush of someone in hasty retreat. he blamed his thoughtlessness in whistling as he ran along; perhaps he might have caught them red-handed if he had been careful. as it was, he saw the two scurrying toward the south, whereas before they had been going northward. he did not go directly to the fallen aeroplane. instead he picked his way carefully over the route the men had followed just after the explosion, stooping low and examining every spear of grass. his search was quickly rewarded. just where the trampled turf showed that the two men had stood for some time he pounced upon a powder-blackened cartridge, bigger than any rifle shell he had ever seen before, even in his uncle's old springfield. that was all, but it was enough to confirm his suspicions. he walked over to the charred and twisted remains of the _skyrocket_, fighting down his strong impulse to pry into the thing and see if he could discover the secret of its astounding exploits before the crash came. it did not take more than the most fleeting glance to see, even with his limited knowledge of flying machines, that this one was very much different from the others. he was glad when the others came up to save him from yielding to his curiosity. tod and the two men were deep in a discussion of mr. fulton's invention, but jerry gained little by that, as most of the technical terms were so much greek to him. tod talked like a young mechanical genius--or a first-class parrot. the two men listened to his glowing praises in no little amusement, venturing a word now and then just to egg the boy on--though he needed none. jerry waited for a chance to break in forcibly. "i say, tod." he interrupted a wild explanation of the theory of the differential, "i expect i'd better chase along back home. i can just catch the interurban if i cut loose now. i--i want to hike back and spread the good news that you aren't decorating a watery grave." "i s'pose i'll have to stay here and help the scouts mount guard over the relics here--when will you be back?" "to-morrow, maybe." "you can come back with dad. he'll probably come back to watertown to-night, after he takes these two gentlemen to chester in the launch. he'll probably want you to help him bring down some repairs." "you think he'll try to patch up the _skyrocket?_" asked jerry. "doesn't look hardly worth while." "worth while!" exploded tod. "is a half million dollars worth while?" then he repented having spoken out so freely, reminded by the sharp glances of the two men. "oh, jerry's all right," he apologized. "dad thinks as much of him as he does of me." "well, i'll be off," said jerry hurriedly. "tell your father i'll see him either to-night or early in the morning--and that i've got something important to tell him." "about the _skyrocket?_" demanded tod eagerly, but jerry only shook his head teasingly and began to hurry across the fields and woods to the interurban tracks. he was lucky, for hardly had he reached the road crossing before the familiar whistle sounded down the track. the motorman toot-tooted for him to get off the rails, as this was not a regular stop, but jerry stood his ground and finally the man relented at the last minute and threw on the brakes. watertown reached, jerry could not hold his good news till he got home, but to every one he met he shouted the glad word that tod fulton had been found, alive and uninjured. the open disbelief with which his announcement was met gave him a lot of secret satisfaction. in fact, he could hardly restrain an occasional, "i told you so." his mother was the only one to whom he allowed himself to use that phrase, but then, he _had_ told her. he could hardly wait until mr. fulton should return from chester, so eager was he to tell of his discovery there in the woods, but the slow day passed, and bedtime came without any sign of a light in the big house down the street. reluctantly he finally went up to his room, but for a long time he sat with his nose flattened out on the window pane, watching patiently. at last he was rewarded. out of the gloom of the fulton house he saw a tiny point of light spring, followed by a flood of radiance across the lawn. "what are you doing, son?" came a deep masculine voice from the sitting room. "thought you had gone to bed hours ago." "mr. fulton just came home, pa, and tod told me to tell him----" "guess it'll keep till morning, won't it? besides, i expect tod saw his father later than you did." "i'll be right back, dad----" this from just outside the kitchen door. "it's just awfully important----" the door banged to just then. mr. ring chuckled. he believed in letting boys alone. jerry sped down the dark walk and jabbed vigorously at the special doorbell, hurried a little bit by the fact that as he came through the wide gate he had a feeling that the big gateposts did not cause all the shadow he passed through. "i'm getting nervous since i saw those two men to-day," he reminded himself. "i'll soon be afraid of my own shadow--but i hope it doesn't take to whispering too." mr. fulton came hurrying to the door, a big look of relief on his face when he saw who it was. "i couldn't wait till morning, mr. fulton. i just had to tell you i knew the _skyrocket_ didn't fall of its own free will. i saw two men skulking in the woods. they both carried big rifles. i was sure i heard one of them go off just before the explosion came, and on the ground where they stood i found _this!_" he handed mr. fulton the rifle shell. "good boy!" exclaimed the man, almost as excited as the youngster. "i'm beginning to see daylight. you keep all this under your hat, sonny, and come over as early in the morning as you can. we'll talk it over then, after i've had a chance to sleep on _this_." he indicated the cartridge. "tell me, though--was one of the men a tall, lean chap with a sabre scar on his jaw----" "they were both heavy-set, scowly looking----" "hm. that makes it all tangled again. well, it may look clearer in the morning. chase along, jerry; i've got a busy night's work ahead of me. no," he added as jerry began to speak, "you couldn't help me any. not to-night. to-morrow you can." jerry wanted to tell him about the whispering shadows, but hesitated because it sounded so foolish. his heart skipped a beat or two as he drew near the tall posts, but this time the gateway was as silent as the night about him. "some little imaginer i am," he laughed to himself as he skipped back into the house. chapter xiii the game begins the sun was not up earlier next morning than jerry ring. however, he waited till after breakfast before going over to rouse mr. fulton, who would, he knew, sleep later after his strenuous night's work. he spent the time in an impatient arrangement and rearrangement of his fishing tackle, for he had a feeling in his bones that this visit to lost island might be more than a one-day affair. mrs. ring finally appeared on the scene, to tease him over his early rising. "i don't need to look for the fishing tackle when you get up ahead of me; i know it's there." but jerry only grinned. his mother was a good pal, who never spoiled any of his fun without having a mighty good reason. now he saw her setting about fixing up a substantial lunch, and he knew that there would be no coaxing necessary to gain her consent to his trip. he slipped up behind her unawares and kissed her smackingly on the back of the neck--perhaps that was one reason she was such a good pal. breakfast over, jerry caught up his pole and tackle box and hustled down the street. the fulton house looked silent and deserted, he thought, as he reached up to push the secret button. the loud b-r-r-r echoed hollowly through the big house; jerry sat down on the step to await the opening of the door, for he figured mr. fulton would be slow in waking up. but the minute he had allowed stretched into two, so he reached up and gave the button another vigorous dig. still there was no response. puzzled, he held the button down for fully a minute, the bell making enough racket to wake the dead. vaguely alarmed, jerry waited. no one came. putting his mouth to the keyhole, he shouted: "mr. fulton--wake up--it's jerry!" then he put his ear against the door and listened for the footsteps he was sure would respond to his call. silence profound. again he shouted and listened. and then came a response that set him frantically tugging at the door--his name called, faintly, as if from a great distance. but the door did not yield. jerry bethought himself of a lockless window off the back porch roof, which he and tod had used more than once in time of need. he quickly shinned up the post and swung himself up by means of the tin gutter. in through the window, through the long hall and down the stairway he plunged, instinct taking him toward mr. fulton's bedroom-study. the door stood ajar. he pushed it open and looked in. a fearful sight met his eyes. on the bed, where he lay half undressed on top of the covers, was mr. fulton, blood streaming down his battered face. "what has happened?" gasped jerry, seeing that the man's eyes were open. but there was no answer, and he saw that mr. fulton was too dazed to give any account of the events that had left him so befuddled. jerry got water and bathed and dressed the deep cuts and bruises as best he could. the shock of the cold water restored the man's faculties in some measure and he finally managed a coherent statement. "it was your two friends, i guess. they broke in on me while i was working downstairs. one stood guard over me while the other ransacked the house. then, when they couldn't find anything, they tried to force me to tell where my papers were hid. that was when i rebelled, and they pretty near did for me. i put up a pretty good scrap for a while, until one of them got a nasty twist on my arm. i guess the shoulder's dislocated; i can't move it. but i guess i left a few marks myself--that's why they were so rough. but all they got was the satisfaction of beating me up." "i wish i knew what it was all about," remarked jerry. "i feel like a fellow at a moving picture show who came in about the middle of the reel. and there's nobody to tell me what happened before." "i guess there's no harm in telling _you_--now. you see, jerry, the big outstanding feature of the war across the water has been the work done by two recent inventions, the submarine and the aeroplane. that set me thinking. the water isn't deep enough around here to do much experimenting with submarines, but there's dead oodles of air. so aeroplanes it had to be. now, the aircraft have been a distinct disappointment, except as scouting helps, because the high speed of the aeroplanes makes accurate bomb-dropping almost impossible. "that was my starter. if i could perfect some means of stopping a machine in mid-flight, just long enough to drop a hundred pounds of destruction overboard with a ninety per cent chance of hitting the mark, i had it. well, i got it. the _skyrocket_ is the first aeroplane that can stop dead still--or was. i showed my model to the proper government officials, but even after i had cut my way through endless red tape i found only a cold ear and no welcome at all. i think the official i talked to had a pet invention of his own. "at any rate i was plumb disgusted. i finally took my idea to the business agent of a foreign power--and the reception i got almost took me off my feet. meet me halfway! they pretty near hounded me to death till i finally consented to give them an option on the thing, but then my troubles began. the man who had made the deal with me had to step aside for a couple of old fogies who can't grasp anything they can't see or handle. i was about disgusted, when a friend introduced me to a friend of his, who hinted that there were other markets where the pay was better. the upshot of it was that i gave this man--as agent of course for _his_ government--a second option on the invention to hold good if no deal was made with the first party before august first, when option number one expires. "mr. lewis and mr. harris represent--well, the name of the country doesn't make any difference, but they hold the first option. they are cautious; they won't buy unless they can see a complete machine that works perfectly. the others are willing to buy the idea outright, just as it stands. "of course i have no proof that the two men you saw--and they are the same i am sure as the two who burglarized me--have anything to do with my invention, but i'd venture a guess that their aim is to prevent my being able to demonstrate my machine before august first. what do you think?" "i think we'd better be getting busy." "there's nothing to do. of course, i don't lose any money by it--i gain some. but i hate to sell my idea to a gang of cutthroats and thieves. i resent being black-handed into a thing like that. but with billings laid out, the _skyrocket_ wrecked and myself all binged up, there's little chance. i suppose i could get a lot of mechanics and turn out a new plane in time, but i don't know where i could get men i could trust. like as not those two villains, or their employer, would manage to get at least one of their crew into the camp, and there'd be a real tragedy before we got through." "i tell you what," suggested jerry. "if you feel strong enough to manage it, you come over to the house and let ma get you some breakfast. then you'll feel a little more hopeful--ma's breakfasts always work that way," he said loyally. "there is bound to be a way out of this mix-up, and we'll find it or know the reason why." over a savory pile of pancakes mr. fulton did grow more hopeful, especially when jerry began to outline a scheme that had been growing in his mind. he began by asking questions. "do you have to have such skilled mechanics to make those repairs?" "well, no, not as long as i have skilled eyes to oversee the job. a good deal of it is just dub work. most anybody could do it if he was told how. i could do the directing easy enough; but i'm not left-handed. however, i'll chase downtown and let doc burgess look me over; maybe my shoulder isn't as bad as it feels. but i'm afraid my right arm is out of the fight for at least a couple of weeks--and there's just two weeks between now and august first. i'd not be much good except as a boss, and a boss isn't much good without somebody to stand over. so there you are, right back where we started." "not on your life! we're a mile ahead, and almost out of the woods. if you can boss dubs, and get anything out of them, why i know where you can get at least nine of them, and they're all to be trusted--absolutely." "tod could help a lot, and i suppose you are one of the dubs, but where are the rest?" "phil fulton and his boy scouts----" "my nephew, you mean, from chester? i suppose i could get him, but just what are these boy scouts?" "you've been so interested in your experiments that you don't know what the rest of the world is doing. never heard of the boy scouts?" jerry, secure in his own recent knowledge, was openly scornful. "oh, yes, now that you remind me, i do remember of reading about some red-blooded boy organization--a little too vigorous for chaps like you and tod, eh?" he teased. "you'll see what happens before the summer is ended. but that isn't helping _us_ out any, now. phil's patrol is down there with tod right this minute, and i bet you they know a thing or two about mechanics. that seems to be their specialty--knowing something about most everything. i'm mighty sure that if you tell us what to do, we can do it. we may not know a lot about the why of it, but we're strong on following instructions." "i'd be willing to take a chance on you fellows if it wasn't for the time. the _skyrocket's_ a complete wreck. it took billings a good many times two weeks to build her up in the first place----" "but you're not losing anything. the boys would be tickled to death to tackle it, and if we do lose out finally, why we've lost nothing but the time. it's like a big game----" "yes," observed mr. fulton dryly. "a big game, with the handicaps all against us. if we win, we lose money, and we have the pleasant chance of getting knocked over the head most any night." "but that isn't the idea. a set of foreigners are trying to force some free-born americans to do something we don't want to do. are we going to let them?" "not by a jugfull!" exclaimed mr. fulton, getting up painfully from his chair. "i'll go on down to the doctor--i expect i should have first thing, before i started to stiffen up. you go ahead to lost island, and see what can be done toward picking up the pieces and taking the _skyrocket_ over to the island. if there are enough unbroken pieces we may have a chance. i'll be along by noon." he hobbled down the street and jerry, after telling his mother what had happened, and getting reluctant consent to his extended absence, gathered together a few necessaries and made all speed for the interurban. there was no temptation to go to sleep this time, for his thoughts were racing madly ahead to the exciting plan to beat the schemers who had wrecked the _skyrocket_. at the same time he was conscious of a disappointed feeling in his heart; why could it not have been the united states that had bought the invention? that would have made the fight really worth while. for, to tell the truth, the two unenthusiastic owners of the first option did not appeal to him much more than did the others. he found the whole boy scout crew gathered about the _skyrocket_, having given up a perfectly wonderful fishing trip to guard the airship. jerry quickly told the story of the morning's events to phil, interrupted at every other sentence by the rest of the excited scouts. the whole affair appealed to their imaginations, and when he came to the proposition he had made mr. fulton, there was no doubt of their backing up his offer. "let's get busy!" shouted dick garrett, assistant patrol leader. "we ought to be all ready to move across by the time mr. fulton gets here." and he started toward the wreck as if to tear the thing apart with his bare hands and carry it piecemeal to the banks of the plum. "we won't get far, that way, dick," observed phil. "first of all we want a plan of action. and before that, we need to investigate, to see just how much damage has been done and how big the pieces are going to be that we'll have to carry." "but we don't know the first thing about how the contraption works," objected dick, somewhat to jerry's satisfaction, for there was a little jealous thought in his heart that phil would naturally try to take away from him the leadership in the plan. but phil soon set his mind at rest. "we don't need to know how it works. all we need to know is whether we have to break it apart or if we can carry it down mostly in one piece. first, though, we've got to organize ourselves. jerry's the boss of this gang, and as patrol leader i propose to be straw-boss. anybody got any objections? no? well, then, boss jerry, what's orders?" much pleased, jerry thought over plans. a workable one quickly came to him. "first of all we'll follow out your idea, phil. let's all get around it and see if we can lift it all together. dave, you catch hold of that rod sticking out in front of you--it won't bite. give him a hand, budge. all right, everybody! raise her easy--_so_." to their unbounded relief, nearly all the aeroplane rose together. one plane, it is true, gave one final c-c-r-rack! as the last whole rod on that side gave way; but the rest, twisted all out of shape and creaking and groaning, held together in one distorted mass. "all right," commanded jerry; "let her down again--easy, now. that's the ticket. now, frank--the two franks--you scout ahead and pick us out a clear trail to the water. you'll have to figure on a good twenty-foot clearance. "i guess we might as well finish the work you young sandows started. i see that the right plane--or wing or whatever you call it--is just as good as gone. we'll cut her away and that'll give us a better carrying chance." "why not take her all apart while we're at it, jerry?" suggested phil. "we'll have to anyway to get her over to the island." "just leave it to me and we won't. i've got a little scheme. who's got a heavy knife with a sharp big blade in it?" "that's part of our scout equipment," answered phil proudly. "come on, scouts, the boss says whack away the right wing." "wing?" grunted fred nelson, hacking vainly at the tough wood. "feels more like a drumstick to me!" although the rods were splintered badly they did not yield readily to the knives. the two trail scouts returned long before the task of clearing away the plane was finished. "there's a fairly easy way if we go around that hazel thicket and make for the road about a hundred yards south of here, then come back along the road to that cut-over piece by the little creek, go in through there to the river trail, and along that, south again, till we come just about straight across from here," reported the two. "all right. now one of you stay here and mount guard over the left-behinds, while the other goes ahead and shows us the way. how's the knife brigade coming on?" "ready any time you are. what's next?" "line up on each side the stick of the _skyrocket_, and we'll pick her up and tote her to the beach. back here, dave, you and barney; we need more around the motor--it weighs sixteen ounces to the pound. all set now? right-o--pick her up. lead ahead, frank." the unwieldy load swayed and threatened to buckle, and more than once they had to set it down and find new holds, but the winding road picked out by frank ellery was followed without any serious mishap, until at last they stood on the high bank overlooking the wide stretch of sandy beach beyond which plum run rippled along in the sunshine. "set her down--gently, now," ordered jerry. "we'll let her rest here while we bring up our reinforcements--and the rest of our baggage. phil, you take three scouts and go back and bring in the wings. leave frank there until you've gathered up every last scrap. the rest of us will stay here to figure out some way of getting our plunder shipped safely across to lost island." "go to it!" urged phil mockingly. "you've got some job ahead of you. you figure out how a rowboat's going to float that load across--and let me know about it." "yes," challenged a new voice, "you do that, and let me know about it too." mr. fulton had stepped unobserved through the border of trees and brush lining the river path. "huh!" bragged jerry. "if that was the hardest thing we had to do, we could use the _skyrocket_ for a fireworks celebration to-night!" chapter xiv patching the "skyrocket" but jerry gave no explanation of the method he intended to use in transporting the unwieldy bulk across the narrow stretch of water. while phil and his helpers disappeared, to bring up the rest of the aeroplane framework, he set his crew to work. the scout camp, which was something like a hundred feet north, yielded a couple of trappers' axes; with these he soon had two stout saplings cut and trimmed to an even length of thirty feet. in the larger end of each he cut a deep notch, while to the smaller ends he nailed a good-sized block, the nails found in an emergency locker on the _big four,_ both it and the boy scout boat having been brought down and hauled up on the beach. the two boats were now laid side by side, twenty odd feet apart. across the bows he laid the one sapling, across the sterns, the other, so that blocks and notches fitted down over the far edges of the boats. mr. fulton at once caught jerry's idea and nodded his head approvingly. "all right," he said, "if the saplings will hold up the weight." "they don't need to," explained jerry. "the _skyrocket_ will reach over to the inner edges of the boats; i measured the distance with my eye. all the sticks do is to hold the two ships together." phil's crew made two trips, on the second one bringing in frank, who had wrapped up a weird collection of broken-off parts in a piece of varnish-stiffened silk torn from one of the planes. it did not take long to load the "body" of the _skyrocket_ onto the saplings, the boats being still on shore. then, all pushing steadily, the strange double craft was slowly forced across the sand and into the shallow shore-water of plum bun. both boats settled dangerously near to the point of shipping water, so it was fortunate that the river was as calm as a millpond. at that, there was no hope that anyone could get in to row the boats. "strip for action!" shouted phil. "the boss says we're to swim across. likewise, the last one in's a rotten egg." the splashing that ensued, as ten youngsters plunged in, almost in a body, nearly swamped the boats. after his first shout of alarm, mr. fulton waved his hand gayly and shouted: "go to it, fellows. if the doctor didn't have my arm in a splint i'd be right with you." "all right, scouts," assented jerry, "but go mighty easy." they were all good swimmers, and with hardly a ripple they propelled the _skyrocket_ slowly but steadily toward the shore of lost island. as they drew near they saw that they had spectators on both sides, for awaiting them was the girl phil and jerry had seen not so long before, but under different circumstances. now she waved her hand encouragingly. "oh, liz-z-i-e!" shouted phil, "where's the meat-axe?" for answer she caught up a pebble and sent it skimming in his direction, so close that phil felt no shame in ducking, even if it did bring a great shout of laughter from his companions. but it was evident that "lizzie" or elizabeth billings, as they soon came to call her, bore no ill will as she came down to the water's edge and awaited their coming. but the boys had no intention of making a landing so long as she was there, and jerry was turning over in his mind just how to ask her to withdraw, when she apparently came to the conclusion that her presence was neither needed nor desired. at any rate, she left the beach abruptly and disappeared along the island path, only stopping to send a hearty peal of laughter in their direction. "next time across i guess well wear our clothes," snickered budge. "the young lady isn't used to welcoming savages to her lonely isle." "try a little of your savage strength on that rod you're leaning on; nobody suggested that this affair was a lawn party," phil reminded him. "come on, fellows, let's get the old _skyrocket_ up out of the damp." after some maneuvering they decided to unload from the water, as the beach shelved gradually. within five minutes they were ready to make for the other shore, being compelled to swim the boats back again, as no one had remembered to throw in the oars. this time their load was hardly worth calling one so far as weight was concerned, and four of the boys piled in, to row the boats across, nearly capsizing the whole arrangement in their efforts to outspeed each other. this time they were fully dressed. one of the boys brought the two boats back, and now all the party crossed over, with the exception of poor budge, who again was the one slated to stay behind and guard camp. perhaps his disappointment was only half genuine, however, as he was none too keen about the heavy job of freighting the wreckage to the center of lost island. tod was awaiting them when the last boatload beached on the island. it was easy to see that he had been greatly worried over the nonappearance of his father, and the bandages in which mr. fulton was literally swathed were not calculated to set his mind at ease. but mr. fulton's laughing version of the "accident," as he called it, soon relieved tod's fears. they made short work of the trip to the long, low shed phil and jerry had seen on their exploration of the island, and which they now learned was a "hangar," a place specially fitted for taking care of the aeroplane. when the big sliding door was thrown open the boys saw that inside was a complete machine shop, with lathes, benches, drills and punches, the whole being operated by power from the gasoline engine in the corner. "the first thing to do," announced mr. fulton, "is to understand just what we're driving at. so i'll explain, as briefly as possible, just what this contraption of mine is. it's simply a device that enables me to reverse the propellers instantly at high speed. but that isn't all. the same lever throws in another set of propellers--lifters, we call them--just above where the pilot sits. they act as a kind of counterbalance. now these planes, or wings, act in the same manner as the surfaces of a box kite, and aside from this device of mine, which has some details you won't need to know about, and a slight improvement i've made in the motor itself, the _skyrocket_ isn't any different from the ordinary biplane, which you all know about, of course." "of course we don't," blurted jerry. "of course we do," exclaimed phil. "there isn't one of the flying eagles who hasn't made half a dozen model flying machines, and barney here won a prize with a glider he made last spring in the manual training department of the high school. but we've all studied up about aeroplanes--that's why we call ourselves the _flying_ eagles." "another reason," chuckled mr. fulton, "why there ought to be a bunch of boy scouts in watertown. how about it, jerry?" "leave it to us. we'll challenge you eagles to a tournament next summer, and you'd better brush up your scouting if you don't want to come off second best. is that a go, tod?" "that's two go's--one for each of us." "well," suggested mr. fulton, "those of you who don't know the first principles of flying go into the second squad. you go to the office--that's the railed off space yonder--where you'll find plenty of books for your instruction. as soon as i get gang number one properly started i'll come back and give you a course of sprouts." jerry and dave and frank went to the "office," from where they heard mr. fulton putting tod in charge of one group, while he took the rest under his personal direction. "first off," he advised, "we'll take the _skyrocket_ all apart. all the broken or strained parts we'll throw over here in this box. anything that's too big we'll pile neatly on the floor. i want to know as soon as possible just what i'll have to get from the city. i can call on the blacksmith shop at watertown for some of the hardest welding, and job western did most of the carpentering in the first place, so i know where to go for my trusses and girders. examine every bolt and nut--nothing is to be used that shows the slightest strain or defect. "phil, you and i will tackle the motor. if she isn't smashed, half the battle's won." jerry sat back in the corner awhile, trying his best to get something definite out of the great array of books he found on a low shelf. looking up and seeing mr. fulton's eyes on him, a twinkle in their depths, he threw down the latest collection of algebraic formulas and walked over. "i guess i know enough about aeroplanes to unscrew nuts and nip wires. you can explain the theory of it to us after working hours." so, with monkey wrench, pliers, hammers and screwdriver, he set about making himself as busy as any of the others--and as greasy. dark came on them before they had made enough headway to be noticeable. the boys were glad to see the shadows creeping along, for, truth to tell, they were all thoroughly tired and not a little hungry. not a bite had any of them eaten since breakfast. "hope budge has taken it upon himself to hash together a few eats," sighed phil. "i feel hungry enough to tackle my boots." "eats?" exclaimed mr. fulton in surprise. "you don't mean to tell me that you're hungry?" "oh, no, not hungry. just plain starved," clamored the whole outfit. "good. one of you go over and get your guard, and we'll see what those mysterious signals mean that miss elizabeth has been making this past half hour. she told me she'd cook us a dinner--if we could stand domestic science grub. this is the first time she ever kept real house. let's wash up." the supper that elizabeth brought, smoking hot, to the long, board-made table the boys quickly set up in the hangar, did not smack very much of inexperience. even budge declared it was well worth the trip across the river. the boys were inclined to linger over the meal, and dave started in to tell a long story about a hunting trip in which he and his uncle had been the heroes of a bear adventure, but mr. fulton stopped him, even if the yawns of his listeners had not warned him to cut the tale short. "we're in for some good hard licks, men," said mr. fulton, "and it's going to mean early to bed and early to rise. that is," he amended, "if you want to go through with it." "we'll stick to the bitter end," they cried. "what's the program?" "two weeks of the hardest kind of work. breakfast at six; work at six-thirty, till twelve; half hour for lunch; work till seven; dinner; bed. that may not sound like much fun--it isn't." "suits us," declared phil for the rest. "do we get a front seat at the circus when the man puts his head in the lion's mouth--and a ride on the elephant?" he joked, pointing at the dismembered _skyrocket_. "i'll give you something better than that, just leave it to me," promised mr. fulton. "where you going to turn in?" "we go over to camp. you'll blow the factory whistle when it's time to get up, won't you?" "no," teased elizabeth, coming in just then, "i'll drop a couple o' nice smooth pebbles into camp as a gentle reminder." it was a jolly party that crowded into the two boats and sang and shouted their way across plum run some ten minutes later, but within the half-hour the night was still, for tired muscles could not long resist the call of sleep. but bright and early next morning they were all astir long before the hour of six and the promised pebbles. a swim in plum bun put them in good trim for a hearty breakfast, and that in turn put them in shape for a hard day's work. and a hard day it turned out to be, for mr. fulton parceled out the work and kept everyone on the jump. jerry and tod were put at the motor, which had refused to respond to its owner's coaxing. they twisted, tightened, adjusted, tested, till their fingers were cramped and eyes and backs ached. lunch gave a most welcome rest, but the half hour was all too short. every one of them welcomed mr. fulton's decision when he said: "we've got along so nicely that i think i will call this a six-o'clock day. wash up, everybody, and let's see what elizabeth has for us." chapter xv a wild night that was merely the first of a whole week of days that seemed amazingly alike. mr. fulton tried to make the work as interesting as possible by letting them change off jobs as often as he could. but even then there was little that under ordinary circumstances would interest a regular out-of-doors boy. what helped was that the circumstances were not ordinary. it was all a big game to them--a fight against odds. perhaps at times the screwing of greasy nuts on greasier bolts did not look much like a game, nor did the tedious pushing of a plane or twisting a brace and bit look like a fight, but every one of the boys sensed the tense something that was back of all mr. fulton's cheery hustle. they knew that his arm and shoulder hurt fearfully at times, but never a complaint did they hear from him, although he was all sympathy over the blood-blisters and cut hands of their own mishaps. but the second week made up for any lack of excitement that the boys had felt. the week was up wednesday night. on thursday morning mr. fulton met them with a white face that somehow showed the light of battle. "guess you'd better arrange, boss jerry, to leave a couple of your scouts on guard here nights," was all he said, but the boys felt that something disturbing had happened the night before. they questioned elizabeth when she brought their lunch, which they ate from benches and boxes to save time, but she would give them no satisfaction. tod seemed to know something, but he too was strangely mum. jerry decided to remain over that night himself, and phil, who had dropped a steel wrench across his toes and so had to remain for medical attention anyway, offered to share the watch with him. after mr. fulton had left them at about ten o'clock, they talked for awhile together, but finally they both began to yawn. "what'll it be?" asked phil. "two hours at a stretch, turn and turn about?" "suits me," said jerry. "ill take the first trick." phil's snoring something like fifty-nine seconds later was sufficient answer. all was still, and jerry set about to await midnight, when he could hope for a brief snooze. after a while the silence began to wear on his nerves and in every night noise he fancied he heard steps. he sat still and watchful, hardly breathing at times, his finger poised above a push button that would ring a bell where mr. fulton lay stretched out on a pallet on the floor of the tiny cabin. but midnight came and nothing had happened. he roused phil and then hunted himself out a soft spot in which to curl up. but he had grown so used to listening that now he found he could not stop. he tried counting, only it was fish he was catching instead of sheep going through the gap in the hedge. it was no use. at last he got up and stretched himself. "guess i'll take a turn around in the cool air; i can't seem to sleep." "gee," grumbled phil, "and here _i_ can't seem to stay awake. just as well have let me slumber on in peace." "well, don't slumber while i'm gone, sleepyhead." jerry walked across the open ground and after an undecided halt, broke through the bushes, heavy now with dew, and made for the shore. he stood for a long time on the bank, looking across to where the scout camp lay quiet in the darkness, and then turned and was about to go back to phil. but he paused; a steady creaking sound had broken the night. it was drawing slowly nearer. it was a rowboat. "great conspirators, they are!" sniffed jerry. "they might at least grease their oars." he heard the mumble of low voices, the _sush_ of a boat keel on the sand. reaching down, he caught up a big handful of pebbles; with a hard overhand swing he let them fly. he heard a muttered "ouch!" and then, after a moment's silence, once more the _creak-crook_ of oars. "batter out" chuckled jerry to himself as he scurried back to the hangar. after that he slept. the boys were all excitement when he told his story next morning, but that was nothing to compare with the exclamation that arose that same evening when they returned to camp to find that dave, who had been left in charge, had disappeared, and that the place had been rifled and then torn all to pieces. poor dave was found not far off, tied to a tree. his story was somewhat lacking in detail. he had sat dozing over a book on aeronautics, when suddenly an earthquake came up and hit him over the head. that was all he knew till he woke up tied securely to a tree. "that settles it," declared phil. "we ought to have done it in the first place, but the boss didn't think it was worth while." "what's that?" demanded jerry, a bit sharply. "well, what's the idea of our coming over here every night to sleep, when there's oodles of room there on lost island, where we're needed? huh?" "what's that 'huh'? boy scout for sir?" cried jerry hotly. phil jumped to his feet, but to the surprise of jerry, who had put up his fists, the scout leader brought his heels together with a click and his right hand went to the salute. "i stand convicted," he said simply. "you're the boss of this expedition. what's orders?" "orders are to break camp--it's already pretty well broken--and take ship for lost island. patrol leader fulton will take charge of the job while boss ring goes off and kicks himself quietly but firmly." they all laughed and good feeling was restored. the scouts made short work of getting their traps together, even in the dark, and it was not many minutes before the first load was on the way to lost island. jerry, phil and dave followed silently afterwards in the _big four_ with the rest of the dunnage. "you think _they_ did it?" asked dave of no one in particular. no one asked who _they_ were, nor did anyone answer, but each knew what the others were thinking. mr. fulton showed no surprise when told of their decision to camp henceforth on the island. "good idea," was his only comment. they were not disturbed that night, and the next day passed without incident, save that budge had the bad luck to break a truss he had been all day in making. "good!" said mr. fulton. "that wood might have caused a serious accident if it had got into the _skyrocket_." budge, knowing his awkwardness and not the timber was to blame, felt grateful that he had been spared the reproof that would have been natural. they had been making good progress, in spite of their greenness; next day mr. fulton was planning to stretch the silk over the planes; it had already been given a preliminary coat of a kind of flexible varnish which was also a part of mr. fulton's invention. the carpenter had done his part handsomely. the launch had come down the day before with all of the heavier framework and trusses. a few rods were still to come from the blacksmith, and the rear elevator control was still awaited, but enough of the material had been mended and put in place to make the aeroplane look less like a wreck. jerry and mr. fulton had finally managed to master the secret of the motor; that is, they finally made it run as smoothly as a top, but neither one was ever able to tell why it had not done so from the start. oiled and polished, it stood on the bench till a final brace should be forthcoming. camp had been pitched on the river side of the open ground, close beside the path. the second night of their new location mr. fulton and elizabeth came over, dick guarding the _skyrocket_ and tod remaining at the cabin to look after poor billings, who, thanks to the doctor's daily visits and his daughter's patient nursing, was growing steadily stronger. elizabeth brought along a guitar, which she played daintily, singing the choruses of all the popular songs the boys could ask for by name. after a little bashful hesitation, dave chimed in, while the rest of the boys lay back and listened in undisguised delight. into this peaceful scene burst tod, frightened out of his wits. it was a full minute before he finally managed to gasp: "they've come--they've been here! i didn't see them!" "what in the world do you mean?" cried mr. fulton, shaking the excited boy with his left hand. "if you didn't see them, how do you----" "i didn't. but it's gone--the motor's gone.----" "what!" yelled the whole crew at once. "dick and i sat outside the doorway, listening to you folks having a good time, and i went in to see what time it was--and there was the hole in the side of the hang--hang--the shed, and the motor had disappeared. at least that was all we noticed was gone." the last of this was delivered on the run, for all had set out for the machine shop, mr. fulton having promptly vetoed phil's plan to put a circle of scouts around the shore. sure enough, a big gap showed in the side of the hangar, where two boards had been pried loose. "lucky you were outside," grunted phil disgustedly, "or they'd have pulled the whole place down over your head." "we've got to work fast," urged mr. fulton. "if they get away with the motor the stuff's all off. they're desperate men--i don't want any of you trying to tackle them. scout ahead, and when you sight them, this is the signal:" he whistled the three short notes of the whippoor-will's call. "i've got my automatic, and i guess i can take care of them." as they hurried out into the night they spread out, working toward the east side of the island. jerry found himself next to phil, and after a few yards he moved over closer to the scout leader. "i say, phil," he called guardedly; "you ready to listen to the wildest kind of a notion?" "shoot," came the answer. "i don't believe our visitors came on the island for that motor at all. what good would it do them?" "it'd stop our launching the _skyrocket_, for one thing." "but there are lots of lighter things that would do that. i don't trust those two ruffians--or their boss, either." "well, who does?" "that's not the point. mr. fulton figures that they merely want to keep those others from buying his idea, so that when the first option expires, _they_ can. but if they could steal the plans in the meanwhile--get me?" "i get you. then you think that stealing the motor was just a blind, and that they are----" "getting us out of the road so they can take their time going through the workshop. if we're wrong, there's plenty of scouts out trailing them--it'd be too late anyway, as it's only a few hundred feet to where they would have left their boat. what say we sneak back, see if there's a gun at the cabin, and take them by surprise when they start burglarizing the hangar?" phil turned about by way of answer, and stealthily they approached the cabin. a light showed dim in the invalid's room, and through the curtained window they could see elizabeth's long braids bent over a book. she merely looked up when they stopped at the window, and at once came out the back door to where they stood. "is there a gun in the house?" questioned phil. "a thirty-two colts," she replied. "want it?" "quick as we can have it. _they_ are on the island." but she did not wait to hear the rest of his explanation. in a jiffy she had brought them an ugly looking revolver. "be careful," she said as she handed it to phil; "it shoots when you pull the trigger." the boys stole across the narrow space between the cabin and the hangar, and flattened themselves against the log walls as they wound their way toward the little "night door" near the other end. as they passed the big sliding doors they paused an instant and pressed their ears close against the planks, but all was still. both had an instant of disappointment, for they were counting strongly on being able to crow over the rest. but when they came to the crack where the two doors came together, and looked within, their spirits jumped up till they hardly knew whether they were pleased or frightened. for just an instant a flash lamp had lighted up the darkness! not quite so cautiously now, and a good deal faster, they made their way to the little door, guided by their sense of feeling, for the night was black as the pitch in the old saying. jerry turned the catch firmly but slowly, and the door swung open without a creak. they stepped inside. they were now in a walled off ante-room used for small supplies. it opened into the main workshop by means of a narrow doorway. standing in the middle of the tiny room they had a full view of the whole place. like two monstrous fireflies a pair of dark figures darted about, ransacking mr. fulton's desk, tearing open the lockers and cupboards, searching out every likely nook and cranny where papers might be hid, their flashlights throwing dazzling light on each object of their suspicion. the two boys realized suddenly that the attention of the two had been focused in their direction, and jerry jumped back behind the shelter of the door-edge just in time to escape the blinding rays of the flashlights. phil evidently realized that their time of grace was over and there was nothing to be gained in further delay. with raised pistol he stepped out into the light. "hands up!" he ordered gruffly. "your little game is ended for to-night." but he had miscalculated somewhat. with startling suddenness darkness closed in about them, there was a quick rush across the littered floor, a thud as a heavy body dashed against the shed wall and crashed through the inch boards. phil's gun roared out twice. as the two boys hastened to the gap in the wall they could hear the crash of the pair as they tore madly through the brush. then all was still again. but not for long. panting from the run, mr. fulton and three of the scouts came chasing like mad through the darkness. "what's happened?" he cried when he saw it was jerry and phil. he listened as patiently as possible to their disconnected story, laughing grimly at the end. "well, they'll swim it to shore, because we found their boat, and we sunk it under about a ton of stones." "yes, but----" began jerry, a premonition of further disaster in his mind and on the tip of his tongue, when from the east shore of lost island came wild cries of rage and chagrin. "just what i thought!" exclaimed jerry, by way of finishing out his sentence. "what's that?" demanded mr. fulton and phil in a breath. but jerry did not answer. there was no need. down the path came an excited group, shouting: "somebody's made off with the _big four!_" chapter xvi tricked again! nothing else happened that night, but the boys had already had enough excitement to keep them awake long past their usual time for turning in. some of them, indeed, were for starting out in pursuit of the _big four_, but mr. fulton promptly squelched the plan. there was little hope of finding the boat in the dense darkness. next morning, before breakfast, sid walmaly and dave were sent out on a scouting expedition, but they were not gone long. the _big four_ had been found, barely half a mile down, stranded on a sand-bar. a jagged hole in the side showed where the kidnappers had tried to scuttle the craft. after this event, the boys settled to their work in high spirits, undeterred by the fact that the motor was still missing, although mr. fulton felt sure it could not have been taken from the island. phil ventured to advance a theory, which the boys were inclined to scout but which mr. fulton finally decided was at least worth the time and effort it would take to try it out. the men had had no time to carry the motor far, argued phil. they had not gone to their boat, else they could hardly have made their way back to the hangar. they might of course have picked it up after they had been frightened away, but there had been hardly time for that. they had undoubtedly hidden it in the first place. the easiest place to hide the thing was in the river, and the closest trail to the river hit the extreme north end, where there was a steep-sided bay. "who's the best swimmer in the crowd?" asked mr. fulton. "i don't dare take very many away from the job, but we've got to have the motor." "jerry ring's the best swimmer and diver in watertown," announced dave without hesitation. mr. fulton turned inquiringly to the boy scouts, but no one answered his questioning look until phil at last spoke up quietly: "i'll go along if you need another one." "i do. you two take the scout boat and bring her around the point. i'll go through the woods--be there in half an hour or so, when i get things running smoothly here. be careful you don't find the gas-eater before i get there," he jested. but it was more than half an hour before mr. fulton came upon the two boys, stripped to their b-v-d's and at that instant resting on the bank. he came up just in time to hear jerry say: "i used to think i could dive! where'd you get onto it?" "just scout stuff," laughed phil, modestly. "every scout in the patrol's got swimming and diving honors." "good!" broke in mr. fulton. "dive me up that motor and i'll get you a special honor as a substitute submarine." "we've worked down from the point, scraping bottom for twenty feet out--that's about as far as they could heave it, we figured. we've just got to the place where i'd have dived first-off if i had only one chance at it. here goes for that leather medal," as phil rose and poised himself for the plunge. it was as pretty a dive as one could want to see. he split the water with a clean slash, with hardly a bubble. a minute, another, and another passed, the two on shore watching the surface expectantly. they began to grow worried. "he's been beating me right along" confessed jerry. "i can't come within a full minute of his ordinary dives. this one is a pippin--there he blows!" spouting like a young whale, phil broke the water and came ashore in long reaching strokes. "i tried my best!" he gasped as he pushed back his hair and rubbed the water from his eyes. "but i couldn't make it!" "better luck next time," encouraged mr. fulton. "if you don't find her in two more dives like that, why she isn't in plum run, that's all!" "find her? i was talking about _lifting_ her. guess we'll have to get a rope on her--she's pretty well down in the mud." "hurray!" shouted jerry, giving his chum a sounding smack on the wet back. "man the lifeboats! i chucked a rope in the bow of the boat." mr. fulton stood on the bank to mark the line, while the boys pushed the boat out to where phil had come up, some twenty feet from shore. jerry slipped over the side, one end of the rope in his hand. he did not remain long below. clambering in at the stern, he shouted: "hoist away--she's hooked!" and there was the motor, clogged with mud, to be sure, but undamaged. mr. fulton stepped into the boat and they rowed quickly back to the "dock." while the two boys put on their clothes over their wet underwear, he hurried back to the workshop to see how things were going. a few minutes later they followed with the motor. they felt, after this fortunate end of the adventure, that mr. fulton ought once more to be his own cheery self, but a look of gloom seemed to have settled down over his face, and his face looked haggard except when he was talking to one of the boys. jerry finally decided to try to cheer him up. "luck was sure breaking our way this morning, wasn't it?" he exclaimed cheerfully as the man came up to where jerry sat, removing the mud from their prize. "fine--fine," agreed mr. fulton, but without spirit. "what's the trouble?" demanded jerry, sympathetically. "anything else gone wrong?" "no--oh, no." "you look like the ghost of mike clancy's goat. remember how you always used to be telling tod and me to grin hardest when we were getting licked worst?" "i sure ought to grin now, then." "we're not licked--not by a long shot!" "yes we are--by about twenty-four hours. while you were gone i got word from the blacksmith. he says he can't possibly have that propeller shaft we found was snapped, welded before to-morrow afternoon late. not if we're to have the other things he promised. he's lost his helper--quit him cold." "no!" exclaimed jerry, his heart sinking at least two feet. then, with sudden suspicion, "do you suppose----" "i _know_ it," interrupted mr. fulton. "our two friends are working every scheme they know. blocking our blacksmithing was one of their easiest weapons. i'm only surprised they didn't do it before." "what can we do?" "submit gracefully. but i just can't face those two doubters. first they were so enthusiastic and then so suspicious, that i can't be satisfied unless i convince them. but the stuff's all off--and i told lewis and harris to come out to-morrow afternoon at three-thirty to see the _skyrocket_ make good all my claims!" "can't you beg off and get a little more time?" "they'd be willing enough, i suppose. they don't seem to be in the slightest hurry. but there's that second option that begins operations after to-morrow. no, there's no loophole. all we can do is just peg ahead, and if the blacksmith comes through sooner than he expects, we may have a bare chance. i just sent tod in to lend a hand." the blacksmith did do better than his word, for tod came back late in the afternoon bearing the mended shaft and two smaller parts that were urgently needed. it took all the rest of that afternoon to lay the shaft in its ball-bearings and true it up. the propeller was still to be attached, but mr. fulton declared he would take no chances with that or with the final adjustments in the half light of the growing dusk. the boys were glad to knock off. they had been working at high tension for a long while now and were beginning to feel the strain. they were all frankly sleepy, too, after the excitement of the night before. as a final precaution against a repetition of the surprise attack they all slept in the hangar, finding the hard floor an unwelcome change from their leafy beds in camp. but the night passed quietly. with daybreak they were all astir, but the time before breakfast was spent in an invigorating swim in the plum. elizabeth had done herself proud in the way of pancakes this last morning, and the boys did full justice. it was almost eight o'clock before anyone returned to the hangar with any intention of working. after barely half an hour there, chiefly spent in polishing and tightening up nuts and draw-buckles, mr. fulton drove them all outdoors. "chase off and play," he insisted. "tod and i will give her the finishing touches; then you can all come back and help us push her out into the sunlight for the final inspection." but elizabeth called them before mr. fulton was ready for their services. heaping platters of beautifully browned perch testified both to her skill and that of the boys. "lunch time already?" exclaimed mr. fulton in surprise. "where's the morning gone to?" but he showed that if he hadn't noted the passage of time, his stomach had. as he watched the brown pile diminish under mr. fulton's vigorous attack, phil threatened to go back to the river and start fishing again. "you oughtn't to be eating fish," he joked. "birds are more your style. better let me go out and shoot you a duck--or a sparrow; they're more in season." but mr. fulton was at last satisfied, as were all the boys. he sauntered back at once to the hangar. "guess you chaps can give me a shoulder now, and we'll take her out to daylight. after that you keep out of the way till the show starts--about four o'clock. all but two of you, that is. there's a bearing to grind on the lathe, and a couple of sets of threads to recut." tod could not have been driven away, so jerry volunteered to be the other helper. the whole troop made easy work of running out the _skyrocket_. after standing about admiringly a while, they all scattered, some of them, jerry learned from their conversation, to try to teach elizabeth how to catch bass. jerry grinned to himself at this; he had heard tod tell of the exploits of this slip of a girl, and no boy in camp could do more with a four-ounce bass rod than she could. tod and jerry went at once at their grinding, and by two o'clock all was in readiness. every rod and strut and bolt and screw was in place, tight as a drum. the nickel and brass of the bearings flashed in the sun; the _skyrocket_ looked fit as a fiddle. there was still a little gasoline in the gallon can that they had been using for testing the motor, and tod let it gurgle into the gasoline tank that curved back on the framework just above the pilot's seat. "try her out, dad," he urged. "i'll try the motor," agreed mr. fulton, "but i'm not going up until there's somebody around to watch her go through her paces. i've got my shoulder out of splints to-day, but i don't dare use it when there's any danger of strain. think you're going to have the nerve to go up with me, son?" jerry opened his eyes wide. this was the first he had heard of any such plan as _that_. "think i'm going to let you go up alone, with a twisted wing that might give out?" demanded tod scornfully. "huh! i'll take her up alone if you'll let me." "i'll let you fill her up with gas, if you're so ambitious as all that. i see an automobile throwing up the dust on the last hill of the town road. i expect it's our friends. i'll let one of the boys row me across to meet them. ask billings, if you can't find the wrench to unscrew the cap of the gasoline reservoir." billings proved to be sound asleep, napping off the effects of over-indulgence in browned perch, so the boys decided to await the return of mr. fulton, a search of the workshop having failed to reveal the wrench, and none of the stillsons being big enough to take the big nut that capped the fifty-gallon tank sunk in the ground on the shady north side of the hangar. so they sat down beside it and waited for mr. fulton to come back with his visitors. they finally appeared, lewis and harris standing about and listening in unenthusiastic silence as mr. fulton glowingly explained the whyness of the various devices and improvements that made the _skyrocket_ a real invention. they did not even venture an occasional question, although it was easy to see that they were impressed. "what are they made of? wood?" exclaimed jerry in fierce impatience. "do you know--if it wasn't that we've simply got to beat out those other fellows, i'd almost like to see these two sleepies get left. i don't like them a little bit!" "huh! ask me if i do. they give me the willies. never did like them, and ever since they acted so nasty about that accident i just plumb hate 'em. you'd think dad was trying to sandbag them or something like that. just listen to them grouching around. i'd hate to be a woman and married to one of them and have dinner late." jerry had seated himself on the top of the reservoir, the cap between his legs. he caught hold of it with his two hands. "it's too blamed bad your dad couldn't hitch up with uncle sam!" he exclaimed. "yes, and if you believe what the papers say, we're going to need it, too. we might be mixed up in the big war any day." "well, i expect we'd better not sit here gassing any longer. tod, chase over and ask your dad where that wrench is--unless you've got a notion i can twist this thing off with my hands." he gave a playful tug as if to carry out his boast. "say!" he cried, "what do you know about this!" "about what?" asked tod lazily, a dozen feet away on the way to his father. "this," answered jerry, giving the big cap a twirl with his forefinger. "some careful of your gasoline you people are!" the cap was loose. "something funny about that," declared tod, coming back. "i saw billings screw that on last time myself--with the wrench." there _was_ something decidedly funny about it, as it turned out. at tod's alarmed call mr. fulton came on the run. "it's been tampered with," was his immediate decision. "screw on the pump, boys, and force up a gallon or so, if there isn't water in that gas we're the luckiest folks alive. i might have known those crooks had a final shot in their locker!" "what's the idea?" asked mr. harris, with the first interest he had showed. "somebody's trying to block the game, that's what!" sputtered mr. fulton. "here, boys, take the canfull in and put it in the shop engine. if she can take it i guess we're worrying for nothing." for a moment or so it looked as if that were the case; the engine chugged away in its usual steady manner. but once the gasoline was gone that the boys had been unable to empty out of its tank, it began to kick a little. within another minute it had stopped dead. "show's over," announced mr. fulton grimly. "it's way after three o'clock now, and we can't hope to get a new supply from town this side of dark. if we just hadn't sent your auto back!" "you mean to tell us that you cannot go up--that there will be no flight!" cried mr. lewis, making up for all his previous lack of excitement in one burst of protest. "but, man--it's the last day of the option." "it's worse than that," countered mr. fulton. "it's the day before the beginning of a new option, held by the people who watered that gas--and at least a dozen other sneaking tricks." "but you told us that you would--why, you guaranteed us a trial flight." "i said you didn't have to buy till you'd seen it work, yes. i'm in your hands, gentlemen. after midnight to-night i'm in other hands--and you're going to lose the chance of your lifetime to secure for your government something that may prove the deciding factor in that terrific war you're carrying on over there. i'm sure you don't doubt my good faith." "faith! it's performances we want." "give me gas and i'll give you a demonstration that can't help but convince you. i can't use my motor on water. i was willing to risk my neck--and my boy's--by going up and trying this contraption with my left hand--but i can't accomplish the impossible." "but surely you don't expect us to buy a pig in a poke----" "this is no pig--it's a hawk. will you do this? will you buy the machine and the idea on approval? i'm pledged. if it isn't sold by night to you, to-morrow those other people will come with cash in hand----" "harris, you know," drawled mr. lewis, "i half believe the fellow's trying to flimflam us, you know. how do we know?" "how do you know!" mr. fulton's eyes flashed fire. "i'll have you know i'm a man of honor." "sure--sure," agreed mr. harris conciliatingly. "but that's not the idea, old chap. we don't buy this for ourselves, you understand. we're merely agents, and responsible to our chief. what'd we say if we came back with a bag of pot metal for our money?" "what will you say to your conscience when your enemy drops destruction onto your brave countrymen in the trenches from the fulton aeroplane? that's what you'd better be asking yourselves." "but we've got to be cautious." "cautious! if you saw the goose that laid the golden egg getting off the nest, you'd hold the egg up to a candle to see if it was fresh!" "well, now, mr. fulton----" began mr. harris, when he was interrupted by jerry, who had been holding himself in as long as was humanly possible. "don't let's waste any more time talking, mr. fulton. tod and i have got a scheme that will pull us out on top yet--even if it does mean helping these doubters against their will!" chapter xvii the big play "look here, mr. fulton," began jerry, almost stammering in his eagerness. "it wouldn't be any trick at all to get over to the interurban tracks in time to catch the four o'clock northbound. that gets to watertown at four twenty-five--say half-past. we ought to be able to get the gas and rout out a machine to haul it in inside another half hour. that's five o'clock. then an hour certainly would see us back here, with a good hour and more of daylight left." "i've gone over all that in my mind a dozen times. but i've also spent a little time figuring what these men would be doing in the meanwhile. there's just one place in watertown that keeps any quantity of gasoline--the rest buy of him. and he'd die of fright if he should be caught with more than a hundred gallons at one time." "but we don't need more than five!" exploded tod. "sure, son, sure. but suppose somebody just ahead of you made it his business to buy the hundred--how about that?" "but there's a chance," objected jerry, returning to the attack. "we might be able to get away without their seeing us." "don't worry; they're watching every move we make." "then i've got another scheme. see if you can pick it full of holes too." there was more than a touch of impatience in jerry's voice. "they're watching this side, that's sure; and they know we're bound to figure on either watertown or chester. we'll fool them. i'll swim across to the other side, reach a telephone, get my dad, who's at corliss these days on business. there's a standard oil tank at corliss. dad'll start the gas out inside of twenty minutes----" "corliss is a good two hours' trip by auto, my boy. it would take at least half an hour to get the message through, and another to get the gas here from the road. that means at least seven o'clock, and it would be dark before we were ready to go up." "all right," agreed jerry, refusing to give up. "suppose it does get dark: there's such a thing as flying by night, isn't there? all we've got to do is to build a dozen flaring bonfires to see by----" "now you're talking!" exclaimed mr. fulton with sudden enthusiasm. "you've hit it. not brush--that would smoke us out. but there are ten or a dozen open air torches here like those they use at street shows, and there's not enough water in the gasoline to hurt it for that purpose. moreover, we can switch our engine onto that dynamo in the shop, and we'll string incandescent lights all through the trees; we've got plenty of them. there's at least a mile of bare copper wire about the place--what you two standing with your mouths wide open for? thought you were going to get that gas! where in thunder are all those boys?" "here they come--tired of waiting out there in the sun, i guess. so long, dad; i'm going with jerry." "you are _not_. you're going to be chief electrician. if jerry can't put through his part of the job alone he doesn't deserve credit for having thought of the whole scheme." the first part of jerry's task proved easy enough. it took him well over the half hour mr. fulton had predicted, to find a farmhouse with a telephone, and central seemed an unusually long time in ringing through to the office jerry's father had been making his headquarters for the past weeks. then it developed that mr. ring was out at a conference of business men. jerry took the telephone number the girl gave him, and repeated it to central, who again took her time in giving the connection. jerry was about ready to drop with nervousness before he finally heard his father's gruff voice at the other end of the line. the words simply tumbled over themselves as jerry told his story; fortunately, mr. ring was shrewd enough to guess the half that jerry jumbled in his eagerness. "where are you--so i can call you back?" was mr. ring's only reply. fifteen minutes later the telephone rang. jerry answered, to hear: "ten gallons of gasoline, double strained, left here five minutes ago on a fast delivery truck. it ought to reach the road opposite lost island inside of two hours. you be there to tell them what to do. good luck, jerry--i'm going back to that conference. this skylark may cost me a five hundred dollar profit." "it isn't a skylark--it's a sky_rocket_, and mr. fulton will pay you double over!" but it was into a dead transmitter he shouted it, for mr. ring had not waited. jerry did not wait long either, but raced across fields and through woods to the river road. he found a shady spot, which he established as his headquarters, but he was too restless to wait there long. they seemed a mighty long two hours. the sun sank lower and lower; jerry heard a bell ringing far off, calling the farm hands to supper--he was getting hungry himself. shadows began to darken, the clouds flared up in a sudden crimson, first low down on the horizon, then high up in the sky. the sun dropped out of sight behind the trees. away down the road sounded a faint drumming noise that grew nearer and louder until around the bend whirred a dust-raising black monster that came to a halt a few feet away from the boy who had sprung out, shouting and waving his arms. "you waiting for gasoline?" a grouchy voice demanded. "are you mr. ring?" "i sure am!" "well, come on back here and help h'ist it out. we're in a hurry to get back to town--why it's only a kid!" as jerry came up. "who's going to help you handle it? it's in two five-gallon cans." "i guess i can manage it all right. i've got some friends waiting down on the river bank." "all right; it's your funeral. there you are, sealed, signed and delivered." the motor roared out, then settled to a steady hum; the man backed and turned and soon was swallowed up in the dust and the growing dark. jerry braced his shoulders for the stiff carry to the plum, a five-gallon can in each hand. he was willing to stop now and then for a breathing spell, but at last he set the load down on the narrow fringe of sandy beach. cupping his hands about his mouth, he sent a lusty shout ringing across the water; he was too weary to swim it, and there did not seem to be much need for further concealment. there was an instant answer, showing that the boys had been awaiting his signal. the splash of oars told him that the boat was on the way, and he felt suddenly glad that he could now think of a few minutes' rest. it proved to be dave and tod and phil in the scout boat. they made quick work of loading in the two cans, and then they all piled in, dave and tod at the oars. they were perhaps halfway across when jerry asked, anxiously, it seemed: "can't you get any more speed out of her, fellows?" "what's eating you? it's as dark now as it's going to get," answered dave, at the same time letting his oars float idly up against the side of the boat. "i'm worried, that's why," exclaimed jerry, slipping over and pushing dave out of his seat. "do you hear anything?" they all listened, tod holding his oars out of the water. sure enough, a purring, deeply muffled sound came faintly across the water. it was unmistakably a motorboat. "some camper," suggested dave. "it sounds more like--trouble," declared phil, a significant accent on the word. "the enemy, i bet, and trying to cut us off." "well, we've got a big start on them. they're a long way off" again dave volunteered. "you mean you're a long way off. they've got her tuned down--she isn't over two hundred yards away and coming like blue blazes. they mean mischief--they aren't showing a single light. what's our plan?" "keep cool," advised jerry. "they'll probably try to bump us. we'll row along easy-like, with a big burst of speed at the last second. before they can turn and come at us again, we can make shore. steady now!" the drone of the motor was almost upon them. the dusk lay heavy over the water; they could see nothing. louder and louder sounded the explosions, but now they had slowed up. a dim shape showed through the gloom. "all set!" came the low command from jerry, just as the boat, muffler cut out, the engine at top speed, and volleying revolutions and deafening explosions, seemed to leap through the water. "down hard!" cried jerry, lunging with his oars. tod grunted as he put all his strength into the pull. the scout boat seemed to lift itself bodily out of the water as it plunged forward--only inches to spare as a slim hull slipped by the stern. "yah!" yelled phil, jumping to his feet and shaking his fist wildly. "you're beat!" the scout boat hit shore just then, and phil, caught off his guard, took a header and landed astride one of the gasoline cans. "i wonder if that was a torpedo," he grunted as he picked himself up. "no," chuckled tod. "just a reminder not to crow while your head is still on the block." the boys wasted no time in getting the gasoline out of the boat and up through the bushes, sending a lusty shout ahead of them to tell the waiting islanders that they were coming. "over on the far side of the clearing," directed tod, who was carrying one side of a can with jerry. "we hauled the _skyrocket_ over there as the ground is more level and free from stumps." they found the whole crew waiting about the airship, their eager faces lighted up by the flaring flames of one of the gasoline torches. "hooray for jerry, the gasoline scout!" they shouted as the boys dropped their loads at the first convenient spot. "bully for you!" exclaimed mr. fulton, coming over and clapping jerry on the shoulder. "have any trouble?" "you better guess we did," broke in dave. "a motorboat tried its best to run us down." mr. fulton looked grave as he listened to the tale of their adventure. as dave finished a spirited account of their narrow escape, the man turned to tod with: "guess you'd better look after filling the tank, son, while i chase over to the house and get my goggles and my harness," referring to a leather brace the doctor had brought him a few days before to use until his shoulder grew stronger. unfortunately, the thing was not properly made and it held the arm too stiffly, so mr. fulton used it only when he absolutely had to. the boys all wanted to have a hand in this final operation and consequently it took twice as long as was necessary to fill the tank. enough was spilled, as tod said, to run the _skyrocket_ ten miles. in the meanwhile, one of the boys took the small can and went the rounds and filled all the torches with gasoline, while another came close behind him and started them going. tod finally left the rest to finish the job of filling the _skyrocket_, and disappeared in the direction of the workshop. within five minutes the boys heard the steady chugging of "old faithful" as they had named the shop motor. an instant later the whole field was suddenly lighted up as the twenty incandescent lights flashed up brightly. "_some_ illumination!" cried jerry, delightedly, turning to mr. harris, who happened to be nearest him. "yes," agreed the man coldly, "but it's all on the ground." "sure. because there's nothing up in the air to see. wait till the old _skyrocket_ shoots up," and jerry walked over to where the boys were standing. "old grouch," he said to himself. "you'd think he didn't want to see us win out." tod came hurrying back from the hangar. "where's dad?" he asked. "hasn't got back yet." "that's funny. i saw him leave the cabin as i went in to start up the dynamo. he called something to me about hurrying so as not to give those fellows any time to think up new tricks. who's that over there with mr. harris?" "phil, i guess. your dad hasn't come out yet or we'd have seen him--it's light as day." "what's the cause of the delay now?" came from behind them. mr. lewis had approached the group unobserved. "waiting for my father," answered tod. "guess he's having a hard time with his harness. i'd have stopped for him only i thought he'd have come back ahead of me. i'll chase over now and see if he needs any help with his straps." tod ambled off across the torch-lighted open. it was a weird sight, that flaring line of torches, the paler gleam of the electric lights hung high in the trees, the animated faces of the excited boys, the two stolid men, and the adventurous looking _skyrocket_, its engines throbbing, the tiny searchlight ahead of the pilot's seat sending a fan-shaped road of white light into the trees. it was like a scene on the stage--just before the grand climax. tod furnished the climax for this scene. hardly had he disappeared within the door of the cabin, before he came running out again, shouting at the top of his voice: "fellows! quick!" there was a note in his cry that went through the boys like an electric shock. it was anger and fear and a dozen other emotions at once. they fairly flew across the hundred yards or so to the cabin, crowding in till the main room was filled. "what is it, tod?" cried phil, as his cousin flung open the door to the tiny lean-to bedroom. tod's face was pasty white and his eyes bulged out. "they've--_got_ dad! i'm afraid he's--killed!" "no!" exclaimed jerry, pushing past. but the first look made him believe the worst. on the floor, toppled over in the chair to which he had been bound, lay mr. fulton, his injured shoulder twisted way out of place, his distorted face the color of old ivory. gagged and tightly laced to the bed lay mr. billings, his features working in wildest rage. but mr. fulton was not dead. he came to under the deft handling of phil and his fellow scouts, but it was mr. billings who told the story of the attack. while mr. fulton had been struggling with the strap that held his shoulder-brace in place, two burly men had burst through the doorway and quickly overpowered him, handicapped as he was by his useless arm. they had bound him to the chair, and then, after gagging and tying billings, had calmly proceeded to ransack the room, one holding a pistol at fulton's head while the other searched. papers scattered about on the floor, wrecked furniture and broken boxes, testified to the thoroughness of the hunt. but they had found nothing until they had thought to go through the bed on which billings lay. under the mattress was a portfolio packed with blueprints and plans. that was when mr. fulton had fallen; he had tried to free himself from his bonds and get at the two, no matter how hopeless the fight. as mr. billings finished the story, mr. fulton opened his eyes weakly. "tod----" he gasped--"where's tod?" "here, dad," coming close beside him where he lay on a big pile of blankets. "look quick and see if they found the little flat book--you know." tod rummaged hastily through the disordered mess of drawings littered over the bed and floor. "not here," he confessed finally. the man gave a deep groan. "we're done for, then. it had the contract folded up in it. and it had the combination to the safe at the house, and there was the list of the specifications mr. billings made out for me when we packed away the first draft of the _skyrocket_." "what difference does that make, if they've already got the blueprints'?" asked jerry. "oh-h!" cried mr. fulton, despair in his voice, "don't you see? the aeroplane itself was made here; billings did all the work on it. but tod and i did all the experimental work at home. all the data concerning the invention is back there in the safe!" "and they're already halfway there in their motorboat!" groaned phil. but mr. fulton made no answer. his eyes were closed; he had fainted dead away. tod jumped up from where he had been kneeling beside his father. "look after him, phil," he directed briskly. "jerry, you come with me. those villains have got the contract and they will soon have dad's secret--it means that we're cleaned out. there's only one thing to do in a tight place like this, and you and i are going to do it--if you've got the nerve!" "i've got it," responded jerry quickly. "what is it?" "we're going after those crooks in the _skyrocket_!" chapter xviii a close finish the incidents of the next hour or so would be hard to picture from the standpoint of jerry's emotions. as they half ran over to where the _skyrocket_ stood ready, snorting like an impatient racehorse, his heart was filled with a kind of frightened determination. once he was strapped into his seat, his pulses stopped galloping so fast, but as tod began an endless fumbling with levers, plainly as nervous as his chum, jerry's nerve oozed out at his fingertips; he might have climbed out had it not been for the straps--and the two men, who now came forward and insisted that the boys give up their hair-brained plan. jerry would have been killed by inches rather than give in to them. a sudden terrifying lurch, a dizzy parting company with solid earth that almost made jerry part company with his stomach. he yelled, but it might easily have been through excitement rather than fear. he hoped the two and tod would think so. he dared not look down--all he could do was grip the rod before him with a death-defying clutch. faster and faster, higher and higher they mounted, the air whistling by them like mad. "can't you slow her down a little?" he yelled in tod's ear, but tod gave no answer. he could hardly have heard above the roar of the motor and the sickening whine of the propellers--not to intention a steady drumming of taut wires and tightly stretched silk. "can't you tune her down?" jerry yelled, louder this time, "and get her level?" "can't!" shouted tod. "i've forgotten which handle to pull, even if i knew which way to pull it!" he tried first one and then another, but although they lurched dangerously, first this way and then that, they kept mounting into the sky. finally there was but one chance left--tod cautiously drew the lever toward him, then with an "ah!" heard above all the noise, brought it all the way. the _skyrocket_ quivered, dropped to an even keel, and then turned her nose earthward. but tod was ready for that. halfway back he shoved, the lever and once more the _skyrocket_ rode level. they had left lost island far behind, but in which direction they could not be sure. a long streak of flame to the left told them that a railroad lay there, and it could be none other than the belt line that ran into watertown. through a rift in the clouds a cluster of stars showed briefly--the big dipper. "see!" shouted tod. "we're headed north, all right." they were going much slower now, and the noise was not so deafening; they could talk without splitting their throats. dimly they made out plum run directly beneath them, while a haze of lights indicated watertown, the goal. even as they watched it seemed to be drawing nearer. "were you scared?" asked tod. "stiff," confessed jerry. "you?" "should say. bet my hair's turned white. where'll we land?" "where can you?" "don't know. river, most likely. say, we're lucky we're alive. i thought i knew how to run it until we got off the ground. then i found i'd forgotten more than i ever learned." "did you ever run it before?" "with dad watching, yes. once, that is. but i've faked running it a hundred times there in the hangar. suppose we could come down in your back lot? it's level--and big enough, maybe." "we might hit a horse. dad's got daisy in there nights." "we'll have to chance it, i guess. but you hold on good and tight, because i'll probably pull the wrong strings at the last minute. where are we now?" "that's the mill yonder, i think. we want to swing west a little now. suppose _they_ are at the house by now?" "most likely. they had a good start. shall we get your dad?" "uhuh. and several others--with guns. better have old bignold." mr. bignold was the only night policeman in watertown. "there's the city limits, that switch-tower on the belt line. hadn't we better come down a bit. i don't like the idea of falling so far." tod obediently let the _skyrocket_ slide down a few hundred feet, till they were just above the tree-tops. they could see that their arrival was causing a commotion below. they could even hear the cries of alarm. "bet they think we're a comet," chuckled tod. now he began to circle a bit, for it was hard to identify houses and streets in the dark and from this unfamiliar view. at last jerry gave a shout of joy. "there's our house--and i bet that's dad coming out to see what's up. hey, dad!" he yelled, but the running figure below made no answer. "well, here goes for daisy!" chuckled tod, at the same time pointing the _skyrocket_ earthward so sharply that it made jerry gasp. down, down they shot, the black underneath seeming to be rushing up to crush them. at the last tod managed to lessen their slant, but even then they struck the ground with a force that almost overturned the machine. over the rough ground the landing wheels jolted, but slower and slower. a final disrupting jar, and they stopped dead. not so the object they had struck. with a wild squeal of fear poor daisy struggled to her feet and went tearing out of sight and hearing at better speed than she had shown for years. "that'll bring dad on the jump," declared jerry, climbing painfully from his seat. "say, to-morrow i'm going to take a good look at this rod i've been holding to; i'll bet it shows fingermarks." "what's the meaning of that rumpus out there?" demanded a stern voice. "oh, dad--we need you the worst way." "that you, jerry? what in tarnation you up to anyhow?" "we're not up any longer--we're glad to get back to earth." "eh?" said mr. ring, perplexed, as he came up to them. "what ye driving at? what was that thing that just sailed over the house? did you see it? i heard daisy going on out here like the devil before day--or was it you two who were pestering her? what's that contraption you're sitting on?" "the same thing that just sailed over, dad," laughed jerry, then, unable to hold in any longer: "we came from lost island in mr. fulton's aeroplane that he's just invented, and there's robbers in mr. fulton's house, and we want you to get a gun and mr. bignold and all the neighbors, and go down and get them!" jerry stopped, but only because he was out of breath. "get them? who are _them?_ and what in thunder you two doing in an aero----" "oh, dad," jerry almost screamed in his fear that delay might make them too late, "don't stop to ask questions. let's get to the house and tod can be telephoning while i tell you what it's all about." he caught hold of his father's arm to hurry him along. "there are two men breaking into mr. fulton's safe this minute, most likely, and we mustn't let them get away." "well, what in thunder's fulton got in a safe that any robber would want?" grumbled mr. ring, but stepping briskly along nevertheless. "two men, you say? guess bignold and i can handle them. i've got my old horse-pistol--if it doesn't blow out backwards." they had reached the house, and tod went in to telephone, while mr. ring went upstairs to get his revolver, which, instead of being a horse pistol, was an automatic of the latest type. jerry stopped him for a moment at the stair door. "i'm going ahead. i'll be just outside the gate over yonder, keeping an eye on the place to see they don't get away." he was gone before mr. ring could object. but the house was dark and silent. not a sign of unwelcome visitors was to be seen. all the windows were tightly closed; both doors were shut. jerry felt uncomfortable. suppose there was no one there--had been no one there? the two men would roast him and tod unmercifully. he heard a light step on the walk behind him and turned, expecting his father. his words of greeting died in his throat. two men, looking unbelievably big and threatening in the darkness, were almost upon him. he tried to shout for help. his tongue seemed paralyzed and his throat refused to give out a sound. jerry was scared stiff. he knew at once that these two were the men they had come to capture, and somehow he had a feeling that they knew _that_, too. not a word was said. jerry had backed up against the gatepost, his fists doubled up at his sides. the two pressed in close against him. he felt powerful hands reaching out to crush the life out of him, but still he made no outcry. then one of them spoke. "you came in the airship?" jerry started, for the man's english was perfect, though heavy and foreign sounding in an unexplainable way. he repeated his question when the boy did not answer at once. "yes--yes," stammered jerry, hoping that perhaps he might gain time. "you came alone?" insinuated the same speaker as before, but now an ominous note of threat in his voice. jerry was in a quandary. he realized that if he told them that he had come alone, that they would kill him. on the other hand, if he told them the truth, they would get away. "answer!" commanded the man, catching jerry by the throat and shaking him till the back of jerry's eyeballs seemed to be red, searing flames. a sudden rage came over him, numbed as he was by the pressure on his windpipe. with a mighty wrench he freed himself. kicking out with all his might, he caught the farther man full in the pit of the stomach. he fell, all doubled up. but the man who had choked jerry, laughed scornfully as lie caught the boy's arms and gave the one a twist that almost tore it from its socket. "more spirit than brains," he laughed derisively. "i'll break you in two over my knee if you make another break like that." "you'll kindly put up your hands in the meanwhile," suggested a pleasant but firm voice which jerry could hardly recognize as that of his father. "i think i'll take a little hand in this game myself." "look out, dad--there's one on the ground!" warned jerry. "i kicked him in the stomach." "pleasant way to treat visitors. why didn't you invite them into the house, son? oblige me, gentlemen." he waved his automatic in the general direction of the fulton front porch. "i'd ask you to my own house, but, you know, womenfolks----" jerry stepped out of the way. his assailant passed him and turned to go in the gateway. then something happened, just what, jerry was not sure. afterwards it developed that he had been picked up bodily and hurled full at his father. mr. ring went down like a tenpin when the ball hits dead-center. as he fell, his finger pressed the trigger and six roaring shots flashed into the air. when father and son regained their feet, they had a last dim glimpse of two forms in rapid flight. then the darkness swallowed them up. "we bungled it," said mr. ring, ruefully feeling of a certain soft spot in his body where jerry's weight had landed. "and here come tod--and chief bignold, just a minute too late." "hi there, mr. ring," called the burly constable. "what is it--a riot?" "a massacre, but all the victims escaped. two blooming foreigners trying to steal an airship out of mr. fulton's safe down there in his cellar--wasn't that what you said, boys?" the boys tried to explain, but both men seemed to insist on taking the whole affair as a joke, though they talked it over seriously enough when the youngsters were out of hearing. tod opened the door and let them inside the house, but did not go in himself, motioning to jerry to stay beside him. "you two youngsters chase along over to the house and tell mrs. ring to give you your nursing bottles and put you to bed." "huh," snorted tod, "we daren't leave the _skyrocket_ unguarded." "why it's fulton's kid," exclaimed bignold, for the first time recognizing him. "say, you tell your dad that he's been stirring up this town till it's wild with excitement. three telegrams this day, not to mention a special delivery letter that they've been hunting all over the country for him with. and on top of that, an important little man with brass buttons and shoulder-straps, struttin' all over the place and askin' everybody if he's mr. fulton, the inventor. when'd your dad get to be an inventor?" "well, he had to be born sometime," answered tod dryly. "eh? well, you'd best tell that same little busy-bee where your father can be found. and the telegrams; don't forget them." "i won't," answered tod, starting off toward town on the run. "watch the old _skyrocket_ till i get back, will you, jerry?" and he was gone. * * * * * * * two stiff, sleepy, disgusted boys sat up in their nest of blankets and looked at each other through the framework of the _skyrocket_ next morning at something like seven o'clock. "and you said you wouldn't go to sleep," each said slowly and accusingly to the other, then both grinned sheepishly. "oh, well, the machine's still here, so why grouch over a couple hours' sleep?" tod defended. "huh--i suppose not. but i'll bet dad had a good laugh over us when he came down here about breakfast time. what's that pinned to your blanket?" tod crawled out of his nest and pulled loose the scrap of paper that had been pinned in the region of his big toe. "it's a note. want to hear it? it says, 'mother ring tells me pancakes are ready for you when you've finished your guard-mount. signed--a burglar.' that's sure one on us." it was scant justice that the two did to breakfast that morning. four telegrams were burning holes in tod's pockets; he could hardly keep from tearing them open, so curious was he to know their contents. even the newspaper that mrs. king brought in and laid beside their plates, could not entirely hold their attention, in spite of the startling news headlined on the front page. "break with germany--u. s. on verge of being drawn into world war." "we'll take it with us and read it after we get there. no--not another cake, mrs. ring. excuse us, please--we've got to go." "it seems a shame----" began tod, when they were once more outside, then asked abruptly: "willing to take a licking, jerry?" "and go back on the _skyrocket_? did you think we were going any other way? and leave the machine here for anybody to come along and study out--or steal? not much! i'll take a dozen lickings!" but he didn't. when the _skyrocket_ finally circled about lost island and settled down over the narrow landing field as easily as a homing pigeon, to come to a stop with hardly a jar, it was bringing news to mr. fulton that was bound to soften the heart of any dad. tod's father was out in front of the little cabin, a bit pale and shaky, but cheerful. his face lighted up wonderfully when he saw the _skyrocket_ aground and the two boys safe. he tried to rise to greet them, but had to be satisfied to wave his hand instead. the two boys came running over to where he sat, eager to tell their story. "what's happened?" mr. fulton asked excitedly before they could begin. he was pointing at the newspaper jerry had been waving wildly as they raced across the open. "war--maybe--with germany! but we've more important news than that--for us just now, at least. telegrams--four of them--look. and an officer's been looking for you----" "police?" asked mr. fulton gravely. "army!" exploded tod and jerry together. "bet it's about the----" they paused, for mr. fulton was not listening to them. he had torn one of the telegraph envelopes open and was reading the brief message, his face going first red and then white. "what's all the excitement?" demanded a slow voice in which there was a trace of resentment. it was mr. harris, who had appeared in the doorway of the cabin. "nothing much," answered mr. fulton. "nothing at all. in fact, the excitement's all over. i'm certainly very glad that you balked yesterday on buying that 'pig in a poke,' my dear baronet. it seems," flapping the opened telegram against his other hand, "it seems, my very dear sir, that the american government, being confronted by a situation which bears more than a promise of war, has offered to buy the ideas which are embodied in the _skyrocket_." "hooray for uncle sammy!" shouted tod. all the boys had come crowding around, slapping tod and jerry wildly on the back and cheering till their throats were hoarse. it was fully five minutes before anyone could make himself heard above the din. finally mr. fulton raised his hand for a chance to be heard, and after one rousing shout of "three cheers for the scouts of the air!" the noisy crew quieted down. "phil asked me one day if i'd promise you all a front seat at the circus and a ride on the elephant. well, i'm going to keep my word, i've got a piece of timber about forty miles up the river from here, and on it there's a log cabin and one of the greatest little old fishing lakes in the country. i'm going to take you all up there for a month of the best sport you ever had." "bully for you, dad!" shouted tod, then turned to jerry with: "and while we're there, what say we learn the first principles of boy scouting, so that when we get back to watertown we can organize a patrol of----" "the boy scouts of the air!" finished dave and frank and jerry in a breath. the banner boy scouts afloat or the secret of cedar island by george a. warren contents chapter i the mysterious boxes ii glorious news iii for cedar island--ghost or no ghost iv laying in the stores v just after the clock struck ten vi the great cruise of the scouts begun vii stuck fast in the mud viii what the water gauge showed ix on the swift radway x dodging the snags and the snares xi the camp on cedar island xii was it a bursting meteor? xiii the footprints in the sand xiv trying to figure it all out xv ordered off xvi under cover of darkness xvii pitching tents in the "sink" xviii what lay in the brush xix laying plans xx the exploring party xxi a mystery of the open glade xxii the wigwag message xxiii still floundering in the mire xxiv the discovery xxv time to go back xxvi honorable scars xxvii another threatening peril xxviii prepared for the worst xxix lifting the lid xxx good-bye to cedar island xxxi a scout's duty xxxii conclusion preface dear boys:-- it is with the greatest pleasure that i present you with the third volume of the "banner boy scouts series." this is a complete story in itself; and yet most of the leading characters you, who have already read the first and second volumes, will easily remember. i trust you will heartily welcome the appearance once more on the stage of paul, jack, bobolink and all the other good fellows belonging to stanhope troop of boy scouts. those of you who are old friends will recollect that while the red fox patrol was forming, the boys had a most strenuous time, what with a deep mystery in their midst, and the bitter strife resulting from their competition with rival troops belonging to neighboring towns. how the beautiful banner was cleverly won by stanhope, i related in the first volume, called: "the banner boy scouts." in the succeeding story the stanhope scouts went on their first long hike, to camp in the open. the remarkable adventures they met with while enjoying this experience; as well as the stirring account of how they recovered a box of valuable papers that had been stolen from the office of joe clausin's father, form the main theme of "the banner boy scouts on a tour." and now, in this third book, i have endeavored to interest you in another series of happenings that befell these wide-awake boys before their summer vacation was over. i hope you will, after reading this story through to the last line, agree with me that what the young assistant scout master, paul morrison, and his chums of stanhope troop endured while afloat all went to make them better and truer scouts in every sense of the word. cordially yours george a. warren. chapter i the mysterious boxes "what are you limping for, bobolink?" "oh! shucks! i see there's no use trying to hide anything from your sharp eyes, jack stormways. guess i just about walked my feet off today, goin' fishin' with our patrol leader, away over to the radway river, and about six miles up." "have any luck, bobolink?" instantly demanded the third member of the group of three half-grown boys, who were passing after nightfall through some of the partly deserted streets on the outskirts of the thriving town of stanhope; and whose name it might be stated was tom betts. "well, i should say, yes. between us we got seven fine bass, and a pickerel. by the way, i caught that pickerel; paul, he looked after the bass end of the string, and like the bully chap he is divided with me;" and the boy who limped chuckled as he said this, showing that he could appreciate a joke, even when it was on himself. about everybody in town called him bobolink; and what boy could do otherwise, seeing that his real name was robert o. link? as the trio of lads were all dressed in the khaki suits known all over the world nowadays as typifying boy scouts, it could be readily taken for granted that they belonged to the stanhope troop. already were there three full patrols enlisted, and wearing uniforms; while a fourth was in process of forming. the ones already in the field were known as, first, the red fox, to which these three lads belonged; then the gray fox, and finally the black fox. but as they had about exhausted the color roster of the fox family, the chances were that the next patrol would have to start on a new line when casting about for a name that would stamp their identity, and serve as a totem. an efficient scout master had been secured in the person of a young man by the name of mr. gordon, who cheerfully accompanied the lads on their outings, and attended many of their meetings. but being a traveling salesman, mr. gordon often had to be away from home for weeks at a time. when these lapses occurred, his duties fell upon the shoulders of paul morrison, who not only filled the position of leader to the red fox patrol, but being a first-class scout, had received his commission from headquarters that entitled him to act as assistant scout master to the whole troop during the absence of mr. gordon. "how did you like it up on the radway?" continued the one who had made the first inquiry, jack stormways, whose father owned a lumber yard and planing mill just outside the limits of the town, which was really the goal of their present after-supper walk. "great place, all right," replied bobolink. "paul kept calling my attention to all the things worth seeing. he seems to think a heap of the old radway. for my part, i rather fancy our own tight little river, the bushkill." "well, d'ye know, that's one reason i asked how you liked it," jack went on. "paul seemed so much taken with that region over there, i've begun to get a notion in my head he's fixing a big surprise, and that perhaps at the meeting to-night he may spring it on us." "tell me about that, will you?" exclaimed bobolink, who was given to certain harmless slang ways whenever he became in the least excited, as at present. "now that you've been and gone and given me a pointer, i c'n just begin to get a line on a few of the questions he asked me. well, i'm willing to leave it to paul. he always thinks of the whole shooting match when trying to give the troop a bully good time. just remember what we went through with when we camped out up on rattlesnake mountain, will you?" "that's right," declared tom betts, eagerly; "say, didn't we have the time of our lives, though?" "and yet paul said only today that as we had so long a time before vacation ends this year, a chance might pop up for another trip," bobolink remarked, significantly. "did, eh? well, don't that go to prove what i said; and you just wait till we get back to the meeting room in the church. paul's just bursting with some sort of secret, and i reckon he'll just have to tell us to-night," and jack laughed good-naturedly as he still led his two comrades on toward the retired lane, where his father's big mill adjoined the storage place for lumber; convenient to the river, and at the same time near the railroad, so that a spur track could enter the yard. besides these three boys five others constituted the red fox patrol of stanhope troop. in the first story of this series, which appeared under the name of "the banner boy scouts; or, the struggle for leadership," the reader was told about the formation of the red fox patrol, and how some of the boys learned a lesson in scout methods of returning good for evil; also how a cross old farmer was taught that he owed a duty to the community in which he lived, as well as to himself. in that story it was also disclosed how a resident of the town offered a beautiful banner to that troop which excelled in an open tournament also participated in by two other troops of boy scouts from the towns of aldine and manchester; the former on the east bank of the bushkill, about six miles up-stream, and the latter a bustling manufacturing place about seven miles down, and also on the same bank as aldine. in this competition, after a lively duel between the three wide awake troops, stanhope won handsomely; and had therefore been given the banner, which wallace carberry proudly carried at the head of the procession whenever they paraded. the second book, "the banner boy scouts on a tour; or, the mystery of rattlesnake mountain," was given over almost exclusively to descriptions of the wonderful things that came to pass when stanhope troop spent a part of their vacation camping out in order that those who were backward in their knowledge of how to take care of themselves when in the open should have a good chance to learn many of the secrets of nature. so many strange things happened to the boys when up on rattlesnake mountain that it would be utterly impossible to even mention them here; but if you wish to know all about the mystery they solved, and the numerous other exciting events that befell them, you must get the second volume. there was to be a special meeting, which the acting scout master had called for this evening; and bobolink, jack, and tom betts expected to be back from their errand in time to answer to their names when the roll was called. it was only to oblige jack that the other two had left home half an hour earlier than was really necessary. jack had asked them, over the telephone, to drop around, as he had to go out to his father's mill before he could attend the meeting in the church, where a room in the basement had been kindly loaned to them by the trustees. "what's all this mean about you going to the mill at this queer old hour?" bobolink was saying, as the three boys continued to walk on abreast, the speaker carrying the silver-plated bugle which he knew how to manipulate so well when the occasion allowed its use. "why, you see it's this way," jack went on to explain. "my father knows a man of the name of professor hackett, though what he's a professor of you needn't ask me, because i don't know. but he's a bright little gentleman, all right; and somehow or other he looks like he's just cram full of some secret that's trying to break out all over him." bobolink laughed aloud. "well, that's a funny description you give of the gentleman, i must say, jack; but go on--what's he got to do with our making this trip to the big mill tonight?" "i just guess it's got everything to do with it," replied the other. "you see, the professor had a number of big cases sent up here on the train, and they came today, and were taken to the mill; for my father promised to keep them there a couple of days until the owner could take them away. what under the sun's in those big boxes i couldn't tell you from adam; all i know is that he seems to be mighty much afraid somebody's going to steal them." "wow! and are we going there to stand guard over the blooming old things?" exclaimed bobolink in dismay; for he would not want to miss that special meeting for anything. "oh! not quite so bad as that," answered jack, with a laugh. "but you see, that professor wrote my father that he wanted him to hire a trusty man who would stay in the mill over night until he could get up here from new york and take the boxes away, somewhere or other." "oh, that's it, eh? and where do we find the guardian of the treasure? is he going to bob up on the road to the mill?" tom betts demanded. "he promised father to be on deck at seven-thirty, and it'll be close on that by the time we get there, i reckon," jack continued. "and what have you got to do about it?" asked bobolink. "let him in, and lock the door after he's on duty," replied jack, promptly. "you see, ever since that attempt was made to burn the mill, when those hoboes, or yeggs, thought they'd find money in the safe, and had their trouble for their pains, my father has been mighty careful how he leaves the office unfastened. he couldn't see this man, hans waggoner, who used to work for us, but talked with him over the 'phone, and told him i'd be there to meet him, and let him in. that's all there is to it, boys, believe me." "only, you don't know what's in those boxes, and you'd give a cookie to find out?" suggested bobolink. "it isn't so bad as that," replied the other. "of course i'm a little curious about what they might hold, that they have to be specially guarded; but i guess it's none of my business, and i'm not going to monkey around, trying to find out." "say, d'ye suppose your dad knows?" asked tom. "sure he must," came from jack, instantly. "he'd be silly to let anybody store a lot of cases that might hold dynamite, or any other old explosive, in his planing mill, without knowing all about 'em; wouldn't he? but my father don't think it's any of my affair, you see. and besides, i wouldn't be surprised if that funny little professor had bound him not to tell anybody about it. they got the boxes in on the sly, and that's a fact, boys." "oh! splash! now you've got me worked up with guessing, and i'll never be able to sleep till i know all about it," grumbled bobolink. "you're just as curious as any old woman i ever heard of," declared jack. "he always was," said tom betts, with a chuckle, "and i could string off more'n a few times when that same curiosity hauled bobolink into a peck of trouble. but p'raps your father might let out the secret to you, after the old boxes have been taken away, and then you can ease his mind. because it's just like he says, and he'll keep on dreamin' the most wonderful things about those cases you ever heard tell about. that imagination of bobolink is something awful." "huh!" grunted the one under discussion, "not much worse than some others i know about right now; only they c'n keep a tight grip on theirs, and i'm that simple i just have to blurt everything out. both of you fellers'd like to know nearly as much as i would, what that mysterious little old man has got hid away in those big cases. of course you would. but you jump on the lid, and hold it down. it gets away with me; that's all." "all the same, it's mighty good of you fellows, coming all the way out here with me tonight; and even when bobolink's got a stone bruise on his heel, or something like that," jack went on to say, with a vein of sincere affection in his voice; for the boys making up the red fox patrol of stanhope troop were very fond of each other. "oh! rats! what's the good of being a scout if you can't do a comrade a little favor once in a while?" asked bobolink, impetuously. "but there's the mill looming up ahead, jack, in the dark. half a moon don't give a whole lot of light, now, does it; and especially when it's a cloudy night in the bargain?" "well, i declare!" exclaimed jack. "what is it; did you see anything?" demanded tom betts, hastily. "i'm not dead sure," admitted jack; "you see, just as bobolink said, the light's mighty poor, and a fellow could easily be mistaken; but i thought i saw something that looked like a tall man scuttle away around that corner of the mill, and dodge behind that pile of lumber!" "whew!" ejaculated bobolink, showing the utmost interest, for excitement appealed to him. "say, perhaps hans has arrived ahead of the half hour," suggested tom betts. "no, it wasn't hans, because i know him well, and he's a little runt of a dutchman, but a fighter from the word go; and my father knows nobody's going to get away with those boxes of the professor while hans and his musket, that was used in the civil war, are on guard. that was a tall man, and he ran like he'd just heard us coming, and wanted to hide. i guess somebody else is curious about those boxes, besides bobolink." chapter ii glorious news "look! there he goes scooting away over past that other pile of lumber!" said tom betts, pointing as he spoke; and both the others caught a glimpse of a dim figure that was bending over while hurrying away, as if anxious not to be seen. "well, what d'ye think of the nerve of that?" ejaculated bobolink, making a move as though in his impetuous way he was sorely tempted to chase after the disappearing figure of the unknown; only that the more cautious jack threw out a hand, and caught hold of his sleeve. "never mind him, boys," remarked the son of the lumber man. "perhaps it was only a tramp from the railroad, after all, meaning to find a place to sleep among the lumber piles. but i'm going to tell my father about it, all the same. seems to me he ought to have some one like hans stay here every night. some of those hoboes will set fire to things, either by accident, or because they are mad at the town for not handing enough good things out to suit their appetites." they walked on, and in another minute were at the office door. there they sat down on the stoop to rest and talk; but only a few minutes had passed when they heard the sound of approaching footsteps; and a small but very erect figure appeared, carrying an old-fashioned musket of the vintage of ' over his shoulder. "hello! hans, on time all right, i see!" called out jack. "dot is me, i dells you, every time. i am punctuality idself. i sets me der clock, undt figure dot all oudt, so i haf yust der time to valk here. der sooner you obens der door, misder jack, der sooner i pe on der chob," was the reply of the little man who had been hired to watch the mill, and those strange boxes, during the night. evidently hans was "strictly business." he had been hired to watch, and he wanted to be earning his wages as quickly as possible. so jack used his key, and the four entered the office. it was quite a good-sized room. the windows were covered with heavy wire netting, and it seemed strong enough to resist any ordinary degree of force. after that attempt to rob his safe, mr. stormways had taken precautions against a similar raid. the watchman also carried a lantern, which he now lighted. no sooner had this been done than bobolink uttered an exclamation. "i reckon now, jack, that these three big boxes are the ones the professor wants watched?" he observed, pointing as he spoke to several cumbersome cases that stood in a group, occupying considerable space. tom betts, also looking, saw that they were unusually well fastened. in addition to the ordinary nailing, they were bound along the edges with heavy twisted wire, through which frequent nails had been driven. when they came to be opened, the job would prove no easy one. "yes, those are the ones; and hans is to spend most all his time right here in the office," jack went on to say. "i'm going to ask my father if he ought not to hire you to be night watchman right along, hans. this plant of ours is getting too big a thing to leave unguarded, with so many tramps coming along the road in the good old summer time. i suppose you'd like the job, all right?" "sure," replied the bustling little man, his eyes sparkling. "i always did enchoy vorkin' for misder stormways. undt it habbens dot yust now i am oudt off a chob. dot vill pe allright. i hopes me idt turns out so. undt now, off you like, you could lock der door some. i stay me here till somepody gomes der mornin' py." "oh! you keep the key, hans," replied jack. "you might want to chase out after some one; but father told me to warn you not to be tempted to go far away. you see, he's storing these cases for a friend, and it seems that somebody wants to either get at 'em, or steal them. they're what you're hired to protect, hans. and now let us out, and lock the door after we're gone." anxious to get to the church before the meeting could be called to order, the three scouts did not linger, although hans was such an amusing little man that they would have liked nothing better than to spend an hour in his society, listening to stories about his adventures--for the dutchman had roamed pretty much all over the world since his boyhood. "shucks! i forgot to examine those boxes," lamented bobolink, when they were on the way past the end of the lumber yard. jack was glancing sharply about, wondering whether that tall, skulking figure they had glimpsed could be some one who had a peculiar interest in the boxes stored in the office of the mill until professor hackett called for them; or just an ordinary "weary willie," looking for a soft board to sleep on, before he continued his hike along the railroad track. but look as he would, he could see no further sign of a trespasser. of course that was no sign the unknown might not be within twenty feet of them, right then. the tall piles of lumber offered splendid hiding-places if any one was disposed to take advantages of the nooks; jack had explored many a snug hole, when roaming through the yard at various times, and ought to know about it. "oh! i took care of that part," chuckled tom betts. "i saw you were talking with jack and old hans, so i just stepped up, and walked around the boxes. there isn't a thing on 'em but the name of the professor, and jack's dad's address in stanhope." "and they didn't look much like animal cages to me," muttered bobolink; upon which both of the others emitted exclamations of surprise, whereupon the speaker seemed to think he ought to make some sort of explanation, so he went on hastily: "you see, jack, i somehow got a silly idea in my mind that p'raps this little professor was some sort of an animal trainer, and meant to come up here, just to have things quiet while he did his little stunts. but that was a punk notion for me, all right; there ain't any smell of animals about those boxes, not a whiff." "but what in the wide world gave you that queer notion?" asked tom. "don't know," replied bobolink, "'less it was what jack said about the professor writing up from coney island near new york city; that's the place where all the freaks show every summer. i've been down there myself." "listen to him, would you, jack, owning up that he's a sure enough freak? well, some of us had a little idea that way, bobolink, but we never thought you'd admit it so coolly," remarked tom betts, laughingly. "and the wild animal show down there is just immense," the other went on, not heeding the slur cast upon his reputation; for like many boys, bobolink had a pretty tough skin, and was not easily offended; "and i guess i've thought about what i saw done there heaps of times. so coney stands for wild animal trainin' to me. but that guess was away wide of the mark. forget it, fellows. only whenever jack here learns what was in those boxes, he must let his chums know. it's little enough to pay for draggin' a lame scout all the way out here tonight; think so, jack?" "i sure do, and you'll have it, if ever i find out," was the reply. "perhaps, after they've been taken away by the professor, my father mightn't mind telling me what was in them. and we'll let it rest at that, now." "but you mark me, if bobolink gets any peace of mind till he learns," warned tom. chatting on various matters connected more or less with the doings of the boy scout movement, and what a fine thing it was proving for the youth of the whole land, jack and his chums presently brought up at the church which had the bell tower; and where a splendid meeting room had been given over for their occupancy in the basement, in which a gymnasium was fitted up for use in the fall and winter. in that tower hung a big bell, whose brazen tongue had once upon a time alarmed the good people of stanhope by ding-donging at a most unusual hour. it had come through a prank played upon the scouts by several tough boys of the town whose enmity paul morrison and his chums had been unfortunate enough to incur. but for the details of that exciting episode the reader will have to be referred back to the preceding volume. jack stormways never glanced up at that tower but that he was forcibly reminded of that startling adventure; and a smile would creep over his face as he remembered some of the most striking features connected with the event. in the big room the three scouts found quite a crowd awaiting their coming. indeed, it seemed as though nearly every member of the troop had made it an especial point to attend this meeting just as though they knew there was something unusual about to come before them for consideration. as many of these lads will be apt to figure in the pages of this story, it might be just as well to listen to the secretary, as he calls the roster of the stanhope troop. once this duty had devolved upon one of the original red fox patrol; but with the idea of sharing the responsibilities in a more general way, it had been transferred to the shoulders of phil towns, who belonged to the second patrol. red fox patrol --paul morrison, patrol leader, and also assistant scout master. --jack stormways. --bobolink, the official bugler. --bluff shipley, the drummer. --nuthin, whose real name was albert cypher. --william carberry, one of the twins. --wallace carberry, the other. --tom betts. gray fox patrol --jud elderkin, patrol leader. --joe clausin. --andy flinn. --phil towns. --horace poole. --bob tice. --curly baxter. --cliff jones, whose entire name was clifford ellsworth fairfax jones. black fox patrol --frank savage, patrol leader. --billie little, a very tall lad, and of course always called little billie. --nat smith. --sandy griggs. --old dan tucker. --"red" conklin. --"spider" sexton. --"gusty" bellows. unattached, but to belong to a fourth patrol, later on: george hurst. "lub" ketcham. thus it will be seen that there were now twenty-six lads connected with the wide awake stanhope troop, and more coming. after the roll call, they proceeded to the regular business, with paul morrison in the chair, he being the president of the association. it was surprising how well many of these boyish meetings were conducted; paul and some of his comrades knew considerable about parliamentary law, and long ago the hilarious members of the troop had learned that when once the meeting was called to order they must put all joking aside. many a good debate had been heard within those same walls since the scouts received permission to meet there; and yet in camp, when the rigid discipline was relaxed, these same fellows could be as full of fun and frolic as any lads going. tonight it had been whispered around that paul had some sort of important communication to make. no one could give a guess as to what it might be, although all sorts of hazards were attempted, only to be jeered at as absurd. and so, while the meeting progressed, they were growing more and more excited, until finally it was as much as some of them could do to repress a cheer when paul, having made sure that there was no other business to be transacted, arose with a smile, and announced that he had a certain communication to lay before them. "are you ready to hear it?" he asked; "every fellow who is raise his hand." needless to say, not a single hand remained unraised. paul deliberately counted them to the bitter end. "just twenty-four; and as that is the total number present, we'll call it unanimous," he said, just to tantalize them a little; and then, with an air of business he went on: "two splendid gentlemen of this town, by name mr. everett and colonel bliss, happen to own motorboats. as they have gone to europe, to be away until late in the fall, they thought it would show how they appreciated the work of the stanhope troop of boy scouts if they offered the free use of their two boats to us, to make a cruise wherever we thought best during the balance of vacation time. now, all in favor of accepting this magnificent offer from our fellow townsmen signify by saying 'aye!'" hardly had the words fallen from the speaker's lips when a thunderous "aye" made the stout walls of the building tremble. chapter iii for cedar island--ghost or no ghost "three cheers for colonel bliss and mr. everett!" called out bobolink, almost too excited to speak plainly. paul himself led the cheering, because he knew those delighted boys just had to find some sort of outlet for the enthusiasm that was bubbling up within them. and doubtless the walls of that sacred building had seldom heard such cheers since away back in the time when a meeting was held there at news of the civil war breaking out in and the patriotic citizens had formed a company on the spot, to volunteer their services to the president. "where will we go?" called out one scout, after the cheering had died down, and they found time to consider ways and means of employing the motorboats that had been so generously given into their keeping. "down the bushkill to the sea!" suggested one. "i suppose you think these motorboats can jump like broncos?" declared jud elderkin, with a look of disgust; "else how would they ever get around that big dam down at seely's mills? we could crawl a few miles _up_ the bushkill, but to go down would mean only a short cruise." "let paul say!" cried bobolink, shrewdly reading the smile on the face of the assistant scout master, as he listened to all sorts of wild plans, none of which would hold together when the rest of the scouts started to pick flaws. "yes, paul's got a scheme that'll knock all these wildcat ones just to flinders, see if it don't," remarked tom betts, waving his hands to enforce silence. "go on and tell us, paul; and i reckon i c'n give a right smart guess that it's about that radway river country," declared bobolink. "just what it is," said paul. "listen, then, and tell me what you think of my plan. i've figured it all out, and believe we could make it a go. if we did, we'd surely have the time of our lives, and find out something that i've wanted myself to know a long while back. it's about a trip up the radway river, too, just as our smart chum guessed." "but, say, the boats are right here at stanhope, and have been used in running up and down the bushkill; then how in the name of wonder can we carry them over to the radway, which is some miles away, i take it?" asked william carberry, soberly. "wait and see; paul's got all that arranged," declared the confident tom betts. "have 'em hauled over on one of his father's big lumber wagons, mebbe," suggested nuthin, who was rather a small chap, though not of quite so little importance as his name would seem to indicate. "oh, you make me tired, nuthin," declared bobolink; "why, those motorboats weigh a ton or two apiece. think of gettin' a wagon strong enough to carry one; and all the slow trips it'd have to take to get 'em there and back. i reckon the whole of our vacation'd see us on the dry land part of the cruise. now, let paul tell us what plan he's been thinking about to get over to the radway with 'em." "well, it's just this way," the chairman of the meeting went on to say, calmly, with the air of one who had studied the matter carefully, and grasped every little detail; "most of you know that there was a stream known as jackson creek that ran into the bushkill a mile below manchester. that was once dredged out, and made to form a regular canal connecting the two rivers. for years, my father says, it was used regularly by all sorts of boats that wanted to cross over from one river to the other. but changes came, and by degrees the old canal has been about forgotten. still, it's there; and i went through it in my canoe just yesterday, to sound, and see if it could be used by the motorboats now." "and could it?" asked bobolink, eagerly. "i think there's a fair chance that we'd pull through, though it might sometimes be a close shave. there's a lot of nasty mud in the canal, because, you see, it hasn't been cleaned out for years. if we had a good rain now, and both rivers raised, we wouldn't have any trouble, but could run through easy enough." "well, supposing we did get through, how far up the radway would we push?" asked bobolink, determined to get the entire proposition out of paul at once, now that they had him going. "all the way to lake tokala," replied paul, promptly. "some of you happen to know that there's a jolly island in that big lake, known as cedar island, because right on top of a small hill in the middle, a splendid cedar stands. well, we could take our tents along, and make camp on that island, fishing, swimming, and having one of the best times ever heard of. what do you say, fellows?" immediately there was a clamor of tongues. some seemed to be for accepting paul's suggestion with a whoop, and declared that it took them by storm. a few, however, seemed to raise objections; and such was the racket that nobody was able to make himself understood. so the chairman called for order; and with the whack of his gavel on the table every voice was stilled. "let's conduct this meeting in a parliamentary way," said paul. "some of you must have thought it stood adjourned. now, whoever wants to speak, get up, and let's hear what you've got to say." "i move that we take up the plan offered, and make our headquarters on cedar island," said wallace carberry, rising. "not on your life!" declared curly baxter, bobbing up like a jack-in-the-box; "i've heard lots about that same place. it's troubled with a _mystery_, and only last week i heard paddy reilly say he'd never go there fishin' again if he was paid for it. he's dreadfully afraid of ghosts, paddy is." "ghosts!" almost shouted william carberry; "i vote to go to cedar island then. i've always wanted to see a genuine ghost, and never yet had a chance." "now, i heard that it was a wild man that lived somewhere on that same island," remarked frank savage. "they say he's a terror, too, all covered with hair; and one man who'd been looking for pearl mussels in the river up that way told my father he beat any wild man of borneo he'd ever set eyes on in a freak show or circus." "oh, that's a fine place for honest scouts to pitch their tents, ain't it--i don't think!" observed joe clausin, with a sneer. "h-h-huh! ain't there j-j-just twenty-six of us s-s-scouts; and ought we b-b-be afraid of one l-l-little g-g-ghost, or even a w-w-wild man?" demanded bluff shipley, who stuttered once in a while, when unduly excited, though he was by degrees overcoming the nervous habit. "put it to a vote, mr. chairman!" called out bobolink. "yes, and majority rules, remember," warned william carberry. "but that don't mean a feller just _has_ to go along, does it?" asked nuthin, looking somewhat aghast at the thought. "of course it don't;" bobolink told him; "all the same you'll be on deck, my boy. i just know you can't resist having such a jolly good time, ghost or not. question, mr. chairman!" "vote! vote!" "all in favor of trying to go through the old canal that used to connect the bushkill with the radway, and cruising up to cedar island, camping there for a week or ten days, say 'aye,'" paul went on to remark. a thunderous response cheered his heart; for somehow paul seemed very much set upon following out the scheme he himself had devised. "contrary, no!" he continued. there were just three who boldly allowed themselves to be set down as not being in favor of the daring plan--nuthin, curly baxter and joe clausin; and yet, just as the wise, far-seeing bobolink had declared, when it came to a question of staying at home while the rest of the troop were off enjoying their vacation, or swallowing their fear of ghosts and wild men, these three boys would be along when the motorboats started on their adventurous cruise. "the ayes have it; and the meeting stands adjourned, according to the motion i can see jack stormways's just about to put," and with a laugh paul stepped down from the platform. for fully half an hour they talked the thing over. it was viewed from every possible angle. many objections raised by the doubters were promptly met by the ready paul; and in the end it was definitely decided that they would give just one day to making all needed preparations. they had tents for the three patrols now, and all sorts of cooking utensils; for frequently the scouts were divided into messes, there being a cook appointed in each patrol. what was needed most of all were the supplies for an extended stay; and when it was taken into consideration that a score of boys, with ravenous appetites, would want three big meals each and every day, the question of figuring out enough provisions to see them through was no light matter. but then they had considerable money in the treasury, and a numbers of the boys said they would bring loaves of bread, and all sorts of eatables from home; so paul saw his way clear toward providing the given quantity. "don't forget that the gasoline is going to eat a big hole into our little pile of the long green," remarked curly baxter, still engaged in trying to throw cold water on the scheme. "oh, that makes me think of something i forgot to tell you, fellows," declared paul, his face filled with good humor. "one of the stipulations connected with the lending of these two motor-boats by the kind gentlemen who own them was that they insisted on supplying all the liquid fuel needed to run the craft. the tanks are to be filled, and each boat carries in addition another drum, with extra gasoline. we'll likely have enough for all our needs that way, and without costing us a red cent, either. so, you see how easy most of your objections melt away, curly. chances are, you'll fall into line, and be with us when we start the day after tomorrow." several of the boys were feeling pretty blue. they wanted to accompany the rest of the troop the worst way; but it happened that their folks had planned to go down to the sea-shore for a month, until school began again; and the chances were they would have to go along, though every one of them declared they would choose the cruise up the radway in the two motorboats, if given their way. but it looked as though there was going to be a pretty fair crowd on each boat. paul counted noses of those he believed would be along, and found that they seemed to number eighteen. if two of the three timid ones concluded to throw their fears to the winds, and come along, it would make an even twenty. "of course, it will be hard to sleep so many aboard, because the boats are small affairs, taken altogether," paul observed; "but we hope to make the journey in a full day, and be on cedar island by nightfall." "whew! night on cedar island--excuse _me_ if you please!" faltered curly baxter, holding up both hands, as though the idea suggested all sorts of terrible things to his mind; but much as he seemed desirous of causing others to back out, paul saw no signs of any one doing so. "meet here at noon tomorrow, boys, and i'll report what i've done. then we can figure on what else we have to lay in store, so as to be comfortable. we must get everything down to the boats before evening, because we start early on wednesday, you hear. at eight a. m., bobolink, here, will sound his bugle; and ten minutes later we weigh anchor, or cut loose our hawsers, as you choose to say it, for it means letting go a rope after all." they started home in bunches, as usual, those who happened to live near together naturally waiting for each other. paul, jack, and bobolink walked together. "and just as it happens so many times," paul was saying, as they sauntered on in the direction of home. "mr. gordon is away on the road somewhere, selling goods; so we have to go without having our fine scoutmaster along to look after us." "guess nobody will miss him very much, although mr. gordon is a mighty nice man and we all think a heap of him; but you are able to fill his shoes all right, paul; and, somehow, it seems to feel better not to have any grown-up along. the responsibility makes most of the fellers behave, and think for themselves, you see," jack went on to say. paul heaved a little sigh, for he knew who shouldered most of that same responsibility. "but," remarked bobolink, as he was about to separate from jack and paul on a certain corner, where their ways divided; "i'd give something right now to just know what's in those queer old boxes professor hackett has stored in your mill, jack; and why they have to be watched, just like they held money or something that has to be guarded against an unknown enemy! but i guess i'll have to take it out in wantin', because you don't know, and wouldn't tell till you got the consent of your dad, even if you did. goodnight, fellows; and here's hoping we're going to have the time of our lives up and around cedar island!" chapter iv laying in the stores well, it was a busy day for the scouts of stanhope troop. there was the greatest running back and forth, and consultations among the lads, ever known. where a parent seemed doubtful about giving permission for a boy to take part in the intended cruise, influence was brought to bear on coaxing neighbors to drop in, and tell how glad they were their boys were independent, as it was the finest thing that could ever come to them; and also what slight chances there seemed to be of any accident happening that might not occur when the lads stayed at home, where they would go in swimming anyhow. and owing to the masterly way in which the objections of certain parents were met and overcome, long before noon every boy who had a ghost of a chance of sailing on the two motor-boats reported that he had gained consent; even curly baxter admitted that his folks had been won over, and that he "could go along, if so he he chose to shut his eyes to facts, and just trust to luck," which, be it said, he finally did, just as paul had believed would be the case. meanwhile paul and jack were making their purchases of provisions, using a list that had been found useful on their other camping trip; although several little inaccuracies were corrected. for instance, they had taken too much rice on that other occasion; and not enough ham, and salt pork, and breakfast bacon. eggs they hoped to buy from some farmer over on the mainland; and possibly milk as well. jack even hinted that they might feel disposed, if the money held out, to get a few chickens, and have one grand feed before breaking camp. "and this time we'll try and make sure that none of our grub is hooked, like it was when we camped up on old rattlesnake mountain," jack had declared, with emphasis, for the memory of certain mysterious things that had happened to them on that occasion often arose to disturb some of the scouts. "oh! it ought to be easy to look out for that part of the job," paul had made answer; "because, you see, we'll have the two boats to store things in, and they can be anchored out in the lake, if we want, each with a guard aboard." by noon the whole town knew all about the expected cruise. boys who did not have the good luck to belong to stanhope troop became greatly excited over it; and by their actions and looks showed how envious they were of their schoolmates. just about then, if the assistant scout master had called for volunteers, he could have filled two complete additional patrols with candidates; for the fellows began to realize that the scouts were having three times as much fun as any one else. but paul was too wise for that. he believed in selecting the right sort of boys, and not taking every one who offered his name, just because he wanted to have a good time. these fellows would not be able to live up to the iron-clad rules that scouts have got to subscribe to, and which are pretty much covered in the twelve cardinal principles which, each boy declares in the beginning, he will try and govern his life by--"to be trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent." some of the scouts were at headquarters, as the room under the church was called, getting the supplies there in order, to take down to the boats later on, when they were surprised to have a visitor in the shape of old peleg growdy. this man lived just outside the town limits, on the main road. he had once kept his wagon yard in a very disgraceful condition, much to the disgust of the women folks of stanhope. the boys, too, looked upon peleg as a crusty old fellow, who hated their kind. he had done something to offend one of the scouts, and it was proposed that they play some sort of trick on the old fellow in order to pay him back; but paul ventured to say that if the scouts went in a body to his place, when he was asleep, and cleaned up his wagon yard so that it looked neat, he would have his eyes opened to the debt he owed the community. paul, it seemed, had learned the main cause of the old man's holding aloof from his neighbors. it came from the fact that some years back he had lost his wife and children in the burning of his house; and ever since had looked upon boys as especially created to worry lone widowers who wanted only to be let alone. well, the scouts certainly made a great friend of peleg growdy. he had even tried to induce them to let him purchase their suits to show that he was a changed man; but of course they could not allow that, because each true scout must earn every cent of the money with which his outfit in the beginning is bought. but in many ways had old peleg shown them that he was now going to be one of the best friends the boys of stanhope troop had ever possessed. he had heard about their intended trip, when he came to town with some produce; and rather than go back home with some things for which there did not seem to be any sale at the price he wanted, he had come around with his wagon to ask his boy friends to please him by accepting them as his contribution to the cause. they could not disappoint the generous-hearted old man by refusing; and besides the half-bushel of onions, and double the quantity of new potatoes, looked mighty fine to the lads. about two o'clock, when it seemed that their list was about complete, even though they would doubtless think of a lot of things after it was too late to get them, paul decided to send for the wagon that was to haul the tents and other things, including blankets for the crowd, brought from various homes to the meeting place, down to the waiting boats. "i wanted to get ezra sexton, but he was busy," jack explained, when he had carried out the errand given into his charge; "fact is, i hear, bobolink, that ezra came early this morning with an order from the professor, and took all those big cases away in his two wagons." "well, that was quick work now, wasn't it?" grumbled bobolink; "reckon i won't ever have a chance to see what was inside those boxes. say, see here, d'ye happen to know where ezra hauled 'em? not to the railroad, i should think, because they only came that way yesterday." but jack shook his head. "some distance off, i reckon, because the trucks don't seem to be back yet, so i couldn't get to see ezra," he remarked; "but when we come home again, i'll ask my father about it, and relieve that curiosity of yours, bobolink." "huh! that means mebbe two weeks or so i'm to go on guessing, i s'pose," the other remarked, in a disconsolate way that made jack laugh. "funny how you do get a notion in that coco of yours; and it'd take a crowbar to work it loose," he observed, at which the other only grinned, saying: "born that way; must 'a made a mistake and left the wrong article at our house for the new baby; thought it was a girl; always wantin' to know everything, and never happy till i get it. but jack, i'll try and keep this matter out of my mind. don't pay any attention to me, if i look cross once in a while. that'll be when it's got me gripped fast, and i'm tryin' to guess." "i've known you to do the same when you had one of those puzzles, trying to work it," chuckled jack stormways. "fact is, i remember that once you told me you sat up till two o'clock in the morning over that ring business." "but i got her, jack--remember that; won't you? if i hadn't i'd been burning the midnight oil yet, i reckon. 'taint safe to make _me_ a present of a puzzle, because i'm just dead sure to nearly split my poor weak brain trying to figger it out. and jack, i'll never be happy till i know what was in those boxes; and why did that sly little professor believe someone wanted to steal his thunder and lightning?" it took several loads to carry all their traps down to the boats. but finally, as the groceries had also been delivered, the scouts took count of their stock, and it was believed they had about everything, save what the boys might bring in the morning from home. paul advised them to go slow with regard to what they carried along, as they did not expect to be gone six months. if any garments gave out, why, there would be plenty of soap and water handy; and the fellow who did not know how to wash a pair of socks, or some handkerchiefs, had better take a few lessons on how to play laundry woman in an emergency. "if things keep on multiplying much more," the scout master remarked, as he looked around at the tremendous amount of stuff which the boys were now beginning to stow away systematically; "why we won't be able to navigate the boats through that shallow canal at all. they'll just stick fast, because they'll be so low down in the water; and chances are we'll have to spend all our vacation slobbering around in that mud trying to coax them along. go slow, fellows; bring just as little as you possibly can in the morning. if there's any doubt about it being a real necessity, why leave it at home. we're all scouts and true comrades, ready to share and share alike; so, no matter what happens, no one will go without." of course there were many persons who came down to watch the loading of the supplies, for half of stanhope was interested in the expedition; and groups of envious boys could be seen in various nooks, taking note of all that went on, while they wished they had such good luck. no one was allowed on board who had no business there. of course when any of the fathers or mothers of the boys who were going happened along, they were only too proudly shown through both boats, and had everything explained by half a dozen eager scouts. but a couple of guards stood at the gangplank, and no boy was allowed aboard unless accompanied by his parents; and even then a strict watch was kept, because there were some pretty mean fellows in town, who believed in the motto of "rule or ruin." when they were not allowed to play, they always tried their best to see to it that no one else played, either. "there's ted slavin and ward kenwood sitting up on the bank over there, paul," remarked jack, about half an hour before the time when the scouts would have to be going home to their suppers. "i've been watching them," replied the scout master; "and from the way they carry on, laughing when they put their heads together, i had just about made up my mind that they were hatching up some mischief." "mischief!" echoed bobolink, who was close by at the moment, and heard what was being said; "say, that's too nice a word to use when talking about the pranks of that combination. ward, he supplies some of the brains, and all of the hard plunks; while that bully, ted slavin, does the work, or gets some of his cronies to do it for him. now, i wonder if they'll try to come aboard here, and play hob with our stuff, like they did once before when we were all ready to hike off on a jaunt?" "don't bother yourself about that, bobolink," said paul, quietly. "i had decided, even before i noticed ward and ted, that we must have a guard stay on board all night. i'm going to see right now what fellows can be spared. they can go home to supper, and some of us will wait for them to come back." "let me be one, paul; won't you?" pleaded bobolink. "but you are so quick to act, and it might bring on trouble," objected the other. "oh! i'll promise to think five times before i act once; and besides, there'll be some fellow along, like jack here, who can keep me quiet. of course, though, if you believe i'm not fit to do the work, why--" "that'll do for you, bobolink," paul broke in, "if your folks say you can stay, come back ready to camp on board. i'll find you one or two mates--four if possible--so you can sleep in relays of twos. and i'll also try to fix up some dodge that will cool those fellows off, in case they try to jump aboard between sunset and daylight." "huh! i'd rather _warm_ their jackets for 'em," growled bobolink; who, having suffered before at the hands of the meanest boy in stanhope, ted slavin, had only the poorest opinion of him, and of those who trained in his company. "when i come back tonight, after supper," continued paul, "i'm going to fetch my shotgun along. it might come in handy on the cruise in case we ran up against a wildcat, or something like that. and i've known such a thing as a double-barrel to be mighty useful, when fired in the air, to make sneaking boys nearly jump out of their skins with alarm--but always in the air, remember, bobolink." "oh! don't worry about me; my bite is not half as bad as my bark. i like to make out i'm just fierce, when all the while, if you could look inside, you'd find me chuckling to beat the band. i wouldn't shoot a gun at anybody, unless it was to save another fellow's life; and then i'd try to pepper his legs. fetch the gun, paul; it'll come in real handy." so, when paul did come back after dark, he carried the weapon under his arm in true hunter style; for paul had been several times up in maine, and knew a good deal of woodcraft, having had actual experience, which is better than theory, any day. these four scouts were left in charge of the two boats, when finally paul went back home to get some sleep before the eventful day that was to witness the sailing of the motorboat expedition: bobolink; tom betts; spider sexton, of the black fox patrol and andy flinn, who belonged to the gray foxes; and firmly did they promise paul to keep a bright lookout to make sure that no harm came to the boats during the long night. chapter v just after the clock struck ten "here we are, monarchs of all we survey," remarked bobolink, as the last of the other scouts went off, leaving the four guards to their task of taking care of those two fine motorboats for the night. it was nine o'clock. the well-known sounds from the church steeple had told them that; and somehow every fellow counted the strokes aloud, as though on this night in particular they meant far more than at other times. stanhope, not being a manufacturing town, like manchester, was, as a rule, rather quiet of nights; except when the glorious fourth was being celebrated; or some other holiday kept the younger element on the move. bobolink had been given the post of "captain of the guards;" while tom betts was to be considered the second in command. they were to divide the duties in such fashion that there would be two of them on deck at a time. "i'll take andy for my mate; and you can have spider to help out," bobolink had told tom, when they were arranging the programme. "and how long will the watches be?" demanded spider, who liked to sleep about as much as any fellow in the troop; he had gained that odd name not because he was artful and cruel; but on account of his slender legs, which long ago some smart boy had likened to those of a spider; and it only requires a hint like that to establish a nick-name. "two hours each, divided into four," replied the chief, feeling the responsibility of his position; for this was really the first time bobolink could remember being placed over any of his fellow scouts--paul wished to "try him out," and discover what sort of reliance could be placed in the lad. "that's an awful short time to get a snooze," complained spider, yawning. "why, you'd hardly get asleep before you'd have to wake up." "then what's the use going to sleep at all, at all?" remarked andy flinn, with a broad smile. "let's draw lots to say who'll stand guard the whole night" "well, i guess not," objected spider, vigorously. "half a loaf is some better'n no bread, they always say; and four hours ought to make a fellow feel as though he hadn't been shut out altogether from his needed rest." "needed rest is good for you, spider; the only trouble is you need too much," bobolink remarked. "but here's the way we'll fix it: andy and me, why, we'll be the pioneers on the job, starting in right now, while you others curl up somewhere, and get busy taking your forty winks. at eleven-ten we'll give you the foot, and take your places. jack left me his little watch, so we could tell how time goes; but sure, you can hear the clock in the church steeple knock off the hours. and for the last time, listen to me; not one wink must any sentry take while on duty. sleeping on post is the most terrible thing you can do. they shoot soldiers in war time who betray their trust that way. get your instructions, fellows?" "i'm on to what you mean, all right," said spider; "and i guess i know my weakness, as well as anybody. to prove that i want to do the right thing, i'm going to fix it up with my mate to give me a jab with this pin, every time he gets a notion in his head that i'm drowsing." "say, that sounds heroic all right," remarked bobolink, doubtfully; "but you don't want to get too gay with that same pin, tom. it'd be a shame to wake andy and me up every ten minutes, making spider give a yelp. better just shake him if he acts sleepy. and above everything else, keep a bright watch along the shore." "think they'll be apt to come from that direction, do you?" asked spider. "just as like as not," the other returned; "but that isn't saying you ought not to keep an eye on the other side, and all around. i wouldn't put it past that ted slavin to swim down this way from some place above, thinking he could do his little trick by fooling us, and coming aboard on the water side." "whew! do you really think, then, he'd dare board these boats, knowing that they belong to two of the richest and most prominent citizens of stanhope?" asked spider, who occasionally liked to air his command of fine language. "well, you ought to be on to the curves of that ted slavin; and if you just look back to things he's been known to do in the past, why, lots of times he's played his pranks on people that had a pull. why, didn't he even sneak into the loft over police headquarters once, and rig up a scare that came near breaking up the force. ted fixed it so the wind'd work through a knot-hole in the dark, whenever he chose to pull a string over the fence back of the house, and make the awfullest groaning noise anybody ever did hear. it got on the nerves of chief billings and his men. they hunted that loft over and over, but of course the groans didn't come when they were up there. why, he had 'em so badly rattled that they all just about camped out on the pavement the rest of that night." "sure, i remember that," declared andy flinn, laughing. "three nights did he play the same joke, and then they got on to him. wan officer do be sneakin' up to the loft, while the rist pretended to be huntin' around downstairs. he discovered the sthring, cript downstairs again, wint out on the sly, and, be the powers, followed it to the fince. then he wint around, and jumped on tid while the bhoy was a pullin' his sthring like smoke, makin' worse groanings than any time yit. sure they thried to hush the joke up, the police was that ashamed; but it cript out some way." "well, get off to bed, spider and tom;" said bobolink, "we'll wake you up when it's time to change the watch. and remember what a nice little surprise we've got ready for anybody who thinks he can meddle with things that don't belong to him. skip out now, both of you." the two motorboats had been lashed side by side. they were about of a size, and something like twenty-four feet in length, with a rather generous beam, because their owners went in for pleasure and comfort, rather than racing. still, one of the boats, the _speedwell_, was said to be capable of doing a mile in seven minutes, if pushed, on flat water; while the other, called the _comfort_, being broader, could not do anything like that. it was easy to pass from one boat to the other, as they lay there. each had a canopy top, and curtains that could be dropped, and buttoned, during a wet spell, or if the owner chose to sleep aboard; but on this occasion paul had believed it best that these latter should remain up, so as to allow of free observation all around. a stout hawser secured the boat nearest the shore to a big stake that had been driven deeply into the earth. thus the boats lay close beside a short dock that was called a landing stage. as the current of the bushkill was always pretty strong there must be more or less of a strain on that hawser; but since it was comparatively new, the boys felt that there could not be the slightest danger of its breaking, unless some outside influence were brought to bear on it, such as a keen-edged knife blade. in that case, as it was very taut, it would naturally part readily; and with consequences disastrous to the safety of the two boats, which must be carried off down-stream in the darkness, possibly to be driven ashore on some rocks below. and so bobolink, having been duly warned with regard to possible trouble in connection with that same hawser, had mentally called the rope his "dead line;" and he watched the shore above that point three times as much as any other place. he and andy had planned not to talk while on duty. if they found it necessary to say anything at all, which was hardly likely, the communication would be in the lowest whisper. bobolink was not greedy, but he really hoped that if any sort of trouble did come it would come along while he and andy were holding the post of guards. he had a little fear that spider sexton might not be depended on, no matter what his good intentions, while tom betts was an unknown quantity. in case andy happened to be sitting in one boat, while bobolink was occupying the other, they had fixed it up so that by taking a lead pencil, the "commander" could give a few little light taps on the side of the craft, using his knowledge of the morse code to send the message, and in this way ask whether his assistant were wide awake, and on the job, when andy would send back a reply along the same order; for he aspired to be a signal man of the troop, and was daily practicing with the wigwag flags, as well as smoke and fire signals. the town clock boomed out the hour of ten. bobolink had himself begun to feel rather sleepy, and more to arouse his dormant faculties than anything else, he sent a message along the wooden telegraph line. the reply was a bit slow in coming, which made him think andy might also be inclined to fall into a doze. so bobolink decided that he must bestir himself, and give the signal more frequently. he would not have this, his first important commission, turn out poorly, for a good deal. perhaps his whole future usefulness as a scout who could be depended on in emergencies rested on the way he accounted for the safety of the motorboats this night. when he found himself letting his eyes shut, even for a minute, he would immediately try to picture the consternation that would ensue should a fire suddenly envelope the boats that had been placed in the hands of the scouts, and for which they would be held responsible. he knew ted slavin of old, and felt that the town bully would not hesitate at even such a thing as that. then there was such a thing as cutting the hawser, and letting the boats drift down-stream, to bring up against some rocks that might stave a hole in the delicate planking. who could tell but what the rope had parted under a strain? sometimes a break may look like the work of a sharp knife; and anyway, as darkness lay upon the scene, with a cloudy sky overhead to hide the young moon, the identity of the vandal could never be absolutely known. all these things bobolink was turning over and over in his mind as he sat there trying to keep awake. it is one of the hardest things to do, and especially when the subject is only a half-grown lad, with but a dim idea of the responsibility depending on the faithful discharge of his duty. hello! what was that? bobolink thought he surely heard a sound like muttered conversation. but then, even in steady old stanhope, there were a number of happy-go-lucky chaps who tarried late in the saloons; and when they finally started homeward, used to talk to themselves along the way. perhaps it was only one of these convivial fellows trying to find the way home, and getting off his course, coming to the open place along the river bank, intending to lie down and sleep his confusion off. bobolink was thrilled, however, a minute later, when he felt sure he could again hear the low mutter of voices. it struck him that several persons might be urging each other on, as though inclined to feel the need of backing. it came from up-river, too, the point he meant to watch more than any other; and this fact increased the suspicious look of the case. "oh! it's coming," whispered the eager boy to himself; "and i only hope the water will be hot enough, that's all." his words were mysterious enough to suit any one; and even while he was speaking in this manner bobolink started to crawl under the canopy that sheltered him from the dew of the night. he allowed the end of his pencil to throb against the side of the boat, giving the one significant word: "come!" an immediate answer assured him that andy heard, and understood. another minute, and the irish boy came shuffling over from the other boat, trying to keep from making any more noise than was necessary. "take hold," bobolink whispered in his ear, pulling the other's head down close to his lips; "they're coming! be ready to go at it licketty-split when i say the word. get that?" "sure!" came in the faintest tone from the other; whereupon bobolink, feeling that his hour had arrived, started once more to crawl back to his former position. but now he had something in his hands that looked very like a snake; or since bobolink was known to fairly detest all crawling creatures, it might be a rope, although there are still other things that have that same willowy appearance--a garden hose, for example. chapter vi the great cruise of the scouts begun when bobolink again reached the bow of the _comfort_, and peered above the side, he glued his eyes to the spot where he knew the rope lay that held the boats moored to the shore. and as the half moon condescended to peep from behind the dark clouds that had until now hidden her bright face, the scout could make out a flattened figure, that seemed to be hugging the earth, while creeping slowly forward. not only one, but three more, did he see, all in a line, as though in this way the conspirators had arranged to keep their courage up to the sticking point. each fellow might watch his mates, and see that no one lagged behind. bobolink was quivering with eagerness and excitement. he figured that these night crawlers had only five more feet to cover before they would be as close to his "dead line" as prudence would dictate that he allow, since it might require only a single sweep of the knife to cut that rope. they kept on advancing as though anxious to get the job over with, now that they had keyed their courage up to the proper pitch. another foot was all that bobolink meant to allow, and then his time would come to act. those last few seconds seemed fairly to crawl, so wrought-up was the waiting scout; but finally he concluded that it was no use holding off any longer. so he suddenly called out the one word: "now!" instantly a new sound broke the silence. bobolink elevated the object he was hold in his hands. there came a queer, whizzing noise, like water squirting from the end of a nozzle; which was exactly what it was, and _hot_ water in the bargain, not actually scalding, but of such a temperature to make a fellow wince, if it happened to sprinkle over-his face. it was all bobolink's idea. he had brought a little garden pump aboard during the afternoon, with the hose that went with it. there was a kerosene cookstove aboard each boat, used when going ashore might be unwise on account of rainy weather; and on this the artful schemer had heated his water. every time he went back to that quarter he tested its temperature, to see whether it kept up to the pitch he meant it should be. and andy's part of the job was to manipulate the handle of the little pump with all his vim and power. imagine the consternation of four plotters, who, when just about to carry out their pleasant little scheme, suddenly and without warning, found a spray of hot water touching every exposed part of their skin! do you wonder that they immediately let out a few yelps, and scrambling to their feet, rushed headlong away, followed by the laughter and jeers of bobolink and his hard-working assistant. "go it, you tigers! my! what sprinters you can be, when you only half try! come again, when you cool off a bit! plenty more of the same kind on tap! don't be bashful, teddy; let's hear from you again, and often. whee! just listen to 'em howl, would you?" perhaps some of those who were with ted slavin in his little game were more frightened than hurt by the hot water, but they certainly did chatter as they kept on up the river bank. little danger of them making another try to injure the boats again that night! of course spider and tom bates had jumped up at the first outbreak, ready to help repel boarders. their assistance was not needed; but they enjoyed the joke as much as their chums and for the next half hour all sat around, talking, and comparing notes. but finally silence again rested over the scene; spider and tom condescended to crawl under their blankets again for another "cat-nap," as the former dubbed it, while bobolink and his able assistant resumed their duties as sentries. the night, however, was disturbed no more by any outbreak. those would-be jokers seemed to know when they had taken hold of what bobolink termed the "business end of a buzz-saw;" at any rate they were only conspicuous during the remainder of the night by their absence. of course every one of the boys on board the two motorboats was glad when the first peep of dawn came. it had seemed about "forty-eleven hours long," spider admitted; though he also triumphantly asked tom betts whether the other had had occasion to jab that pin into him even once, which the second scout laughingly admitted he had not. "see there," spider had declared, "can't i keep awake when duty calls me? you needn't be afraid to trust a sexton, when you need a faithful watcher." before the sun appeared paul and jack were on hand, to make sure that everything was in shape for an early start, for they hoped to get away by nine o'clock. others of the scouts began to drop around, and from the appearance of their eyes paul was of the opinion that a full night's sleep had not been enjoyed by many of the members of the troop. of course, it was the excitement of starting out on such a glorious cruise that kept them awake; for it is not given to scouts very often to enjoy such a prospect, afloat, with staunch motorboats given over into their keeping. since so many things had been looked after on the preceding afternoon, there was really little to be done that morning. every fellow was supposed to be on hand at a certain time, ready with his little blanket, and his haversack, in which he would carry a towel, some soap, a brush, an extra shirt, some socks and handkerchiefs; and if he could find a spare bit of room, why, he was entitled to cram in all the crullers or other dainties he could manage; for after that supply was gone there would be only plain camp fare until they got home again. paul was kept busy seeing that everything was stored away in the right place. of course the supplies of food and the tents, as well as the numerous blankets, had to be divided as equally as possible, so that each boat would have its fair cargo. when the roster of those who could go was taken, just before the time came to start, and the others were ordered ashore, it was found that all told there were just eighteen fellows lucky enough to be in the lot. some of the boys who could not go looked pretty doleful as they watched the preparations. there were the twins, william and wallace carberry, whose parents insisted on their going to the sea-shore; and horace poole, as well as cliff jones, of the second patrol, also compelled to obey the parental injunction; when, if given their choice, they would ten times sooner have remained at home, and had the chance of starting out on this wonderful cruise with their chums. sandy griggs, the butcher's son, was laid up with a lame leg; while george hurst happened to develop a touch of malaria, and his parents would not hear of him going on the water at such a time. as for red conklin and lub ketcham, for some reason or other which they did not care to explain, they had been positively refused permission to go along; perhaps they were being punished for some misdemeanor; and if so, to judge from the long faces they showed, the like would not be apt to happen again very soon; for it pained them dreadfully to think that they were to be debarred from all that glorious fun which the fortunate eighteen had ahead of them. with nine to a boat there was considerable crowding; but this came mostly on account of the tremendous amount of material carried. why, one would almost be inclined to think those boys were going off for a whole three months, instead of not more than two weeks at most, to judge from the stuff they carried. it takes boys a long time to learn to plan such trips as this in light marching order, doing without everything save absolute necessities. why, there was bobolink, who ought to have known better, actually trying to get paul to allow him to take along that little garden pump, with its line of hose. just because it had come in so happily when those jokers meant to cut the hawser, and set the two boats adrift, bobolink declared there could be no telling how many times it would prove a blessing; but paul utterly refused to carry such a burden; and so in the end it was put ashore, and given in charge of the twins to return in safety to the link garden. when nine o'clock struck, everything seemed to be ready. "i can't think of anything else; can you. jack?" paul asked his second in command, and who was to take charge of the _speedwell_, while paul himself ran the other craft. "i see you've got the extra gas aboard, and that was one thing i had on my mind," replied jack. "there's nothing else that i know. look at william carberry, will you? i honestly believe he's figuring in his mind right now whether he dares go, against his home order, and jump aboard, to sail with us." "i wouldn't let him, now that i know he couldn't get permission," remarked paul, promptly. "we want to make a start with a clean record. no fellow is going without the full permission of his folks. i'd hate to think that any scout sneaked off, and came anyhow. he wouldn't have a good time, because all the while he'd be thinking of what was coming when he got back." "bobolink is rubbing his chin every time he looks at that little garden pump," jack went on, chuckling mightily, as though he enjoyed watching the faces of his comrades, and reading all sorts of things there. "he just can't see why you wouldn't let him carry it along. i heard him tell how it would be good for giving us all a clean-off shower bath, when we went in swimming; and all that sort of thing. when he can't have what he wants, bobolink is a hard loser; isn't he, paul?" "well, he beats any one else in hanging on," replied the other. "now take those boxes that little old professor stored one night in your father's mill--bobolink just can't get them out of his mind; and he never will be happy till you find out what was in them. after that he'll forget all about the things. but if everything is ready, i guess we might as well start." when the _speedwell_, being on the outside, started to "popping," and then moved off, there was a cheer from fully five score of throats; and counting the girls who had also come down to see the beginning of the motorboat cruise, there must have been nearly double that number on the bank. then the roomier _comfort_ also made a start, and following in the wake of the pilot boat, turned until her nose pointed down-stream. flags were flying from fore and aft of both boats; and the boys waved their campaign hats, while they sent back hearty cheers in answer to the many good wishes shouted after them by the crowd ashore, while bobolink blew cheery blasts on his bugle, and bluff shipley would have beaten a lively tattoo on his drum, only it had been decided best to leave that instrument at home. and with all this noisy send-off, the two boats began to chug-chug down the bushkill, bound for that far-away island in lake tokala, about which so many strange stories had from time to time been told. "well, we're off at last, bobolink," said jack, who had that individual aboard with him. "that's right, and everything seems lovely, with the goose hanging high," replied the other. "but seems to me the troop owes us guards a vote of thanks for serving as we did. just think what a lot of grunters we'd have been this fine morning, if our boats had been set adrift, and brought up on the rocks down below, with chances of holes being knocked in the sides! say, we've got a whole lot to be thankful for, jack; and my old garden pump stood up to the racket first-rate, too." "that's true, bobolink; and as soon as we're settled in camp i'm going to make sure that the troop acknowledges its indebtedness to you four fellows by a vote of thanks, see if i don't." "oh say, now, i didn't mean to hint that way," objected the other, turning a little red in the face with confusion. "we only did our duty, after all, if we did lose a lot of sleep. but then, i guess we got as much as a lot of the fellows that went to bed at home. yes, we're off at last, and things look great. i'm as happy as a lark, and that free from care--well, i would be, that is, if only somebody could up and give me just a hint what those boxes had in 'em. it was so funny to have that queer professor store 'em with your father in his mill; and then to have somebody sneakin' around, wantin' to steal them. needn't grin at me that way, jack; you know i'm a little weak in that quarter. i sure _do_ want to know! don't suppose you've heard anything new since i talked with you last about it?" and as jack shook his head in the negative, bobolink looked disappointed, and turned away. chapter vii stuck fast in the mud "about three mile's below stanhope now; aren't we, paul?" asked jud elderkin, the leader of the second patrol, who, with bluff, nuthin, joe clausin, gusty bellows, old dan tucker, phil towns and little billie, constituted the crew of the _comfort_, commanded by the scout master himself. jack had been given charge of the other boat, because frank savage was not feeling any too well, though probably he had not let his folks know about it, lest he be kept at home. "more than that, jud," answered the other; "and in the most ticklish part of the river, too. i ought to signal the other boat to slow up some more. you see, while there are no rocks around here, the eddies form sandbars that keep changing, just as i understand they do away out in the big mississippi, so that a pilot on his way up-river finds a new channel cut out, and bars that were never there when he went down a week before." "and notice, too, that jack's given over the wheel to bobolink, while he is back looking after the motor. now, bobolink is a cracker-jack of a fellow to get up all sorts of clever schemes for sprinkling creepers in the night; but he's a little apt to be flighty when it comes to running a boat. there! what did i tell you, paul; they've run aground, as sure as you live!" "you're right, jud; and it looks like the _speedwell_ might go over on her beam-ends, the way she's tilted now. good for jack; he's ordering them all over on the upper side! that may keep her from toppling over!" paul exclaimed, as he gave the wheel a little turn, and headed straight for the boat in peril. "wow! that was a right smart trick of jack's!" cried jud, in admiration. "if he'd lost his head, like some fellows i know might have done, nothing'd ever kept that boat on her keel. and just to think what a nasty job we'd have on our hands, trying to right her again, and before our great trip had hardly started." "yes," added old dan tucker, who happened to be close to them, "that ain't the worst of it. you know the main part of the grub's aboard the other boat think of those juicy hams floatin' off down the bushkill, with not a single tooth ever bein' put in 'em; and all that bread and stuff soaked. oh! it gives me a cold shiver to even think of it," for dan loved the bugle call that announced dining time better than any other music. the greatest excitement prevailed aboard both boats. jack seemed to be keeping his crew perched along the upper rail, where their weight had the effect of holding the boat with the narrower beam from toppling over on her side. it looked like a close shave, as jud elderkin said, with that swift current rushing past on the port quarter, and almost lapping the rim of the cockpit. of course, as soon as she struck jack had shut off power, so that the boat was now lying like a stranded little whale. paul brought up alongside, looking out that he did not strike the same unseen sandbar. "take this rope, some of you, and make fast to that cleat at the stern," paul called out, giving a whirl that sent it aboard the tilted motorboat. "what are you meaning to do, paul; give us a pull back?" asked jack, who did not seem to be one-half so "rattled" by the mishap as some of the other fellows; simply because he had the faculty of keeping his wits about him in an emergency. "that's the only way i can see," came the reply. "and as the stern is under water, jack, what's the matter with backing when we start to pulling?" "not a thing, that i can see," answered the skipper of the _speedwell_; "but i hope she slides off all right." "have your crew get as far aft as they can," continued paul. "that will lighten the bow, more or less. and keep them all on the side they're on; only as soon as she drops back on an even keel, they must get over, so she won't swing to starboard too much. all ready, now?" "yes, the rope's tied fast to the cleat, and unless you yank that out by the roots, the boat's just _got_ to move! say when, paul," with which jack again bent over the three horse-power motor with which the faster boat was equipped. paul took one look around before giving the word. he wanted to make sure that everything was in readiness, so there might be no hitch. a mistake at that critical stage might result in bringing about the very accident they were striving to avoid, and as a consequence it was wise to make haste slowly. that is always a rule good scout masters lay down to the boys under their charge. "slow but sure" is a motto that many a boy would be wise to take to himself through life. and when paul had made certain that everything was in readiness he started the motor of the _comfort_, reversing his lever; so that every ounce of force was exerted to drag the companion boat off its sandy bed. jack complied with the requirements of the situation by also starting his motor the same way; and with the happiest results. "hurrah! she's moving!" cried little nuthin, who was not in danger, but just as much excited as though the reverse had been the case. "there she comes!" yelled several of the anxious scouts, as the _speedwell_ was seen to start backward. "one good pull deserves another; eh, fellows?" cried the delighted bobolink, who was wondering whether jack would ever entrust the wheel to his care again, after that accident; but he need not have worried, for somehow the skipper did not seem to feel that it was his fault. and bobolink, when he was again placed in charge of the wheel, felt that he had had a lesson that would last him some time. in this sort of work there could be no telling what was going to happen; hence, each scout would be wise to remember the rule by which they were supposed to always be guided, and "be prepared." that meant being watchful, wakeful, earnest, and looking for signs to indicate trouble, so that should it come they would not be caught napping. after a little while they came in sight of manchester, with its smoking stacks, and its busy mills. possibly the news of the expedition of the stanhope troop had been carried to the boys down here. at any rate, there was a group of several fellows wearing the well known khaki-uniform, who waved to them from the bank and acted as though wishing the expedition success. they were pretty good fellows, those manchester scouts, and the stanhope boys liked them much more than they did the members of the aldine troop up the river. everybody knows there is a vast difference in boys; and sometimes even the fellows in various towns will seem, to be built along certain lines, having pretty much the same leading characteristics. the manchester lads had proven a straight-forward set in what competitions the several troops had had so far. and hence every fellow aboard the two boats swung his hat, and sent back hearty cheers. "what's the matter with manchester? she's all right!" they called, in unison, as gusty bellows took upon himself the duties which, on the ball field, made him invaluable as the "cheer captain." his name was really gustavus bellows; but that was easily corrupted into gusty when the fellows learned on his first coming to stanhope what a tremendous voice he had. about a mile or so below manchester, paul had said, the mouth of what had once been jackson creek, might be found. several of the boys could remember having heard more or less about that abandoned canal; perhaps the manchester lads knew about it, since it was closer to their home town. everybody, then, was anxiously scanning the shore on the left, because they knew it must lie somewhere along there. "i see the mouth!" exclaimed phil towns, who had very keen eyesight. "just look on the other side of that crooked tree, and you'll glimpse a little bar that juts out. that must be on the upper side of the creek's mouth; because paul said bars nearly always form there. how about that, paul?" "go up head, phil; you've struck the bull's eye," replied the other, with a laugh, as he began to head in toward the crooked tree mentioned, and which doubtless he took for his landmark when in search of the creek. the _comfort_ was in the lead now. jack was content to play "second fiddle," as he called it. as paul had gone through the disused canal in his canoe, exploring it pretty thoroughly, he must act as pilot. once they had pushed past the mouth of the creek they found a rather disheartening prospect. the water seemed very low, so that they could see bottom everywhere. even paul frowned, and shook his head. "it surely must have lowered several inches since i was here yesterday," he declared, in dismay. "think we'll get through safely?" queried jud elderkin, anxiously. "i hope we may," replied the scout master; "but we've just got to creep along, and be mighty careful. you see, most of the bed of this canal is mud, and not sand. once the sharp bow starts to rooting in that, there's no telling how far we'll explore before letting up. and it's surprising how that same mud clings. i could hardly work my light canoe loose two or three times. just seemed like ten pair of hands had hold of her, and were gripping tight. easy there, jack, take another notch in your speed, old fellow! crawl along, if you can. and have the poles ready to fend off, if we get into any bad hole." the boys were strung along the sides of the slowly moving motorboats. every fellow came near holding his breath with nervousness. "excuse me from getting stuck here in this nasty mess," remarked nat smith, on board the roomier boat with jack, bobolink, tom betts, andy flinn, curly baxter, spider sexton, frank savage and bob tice. "why, we might stay here a week," observed the last mentioned, in a voice that told plainly how little he would relish such a mishap, when they had planned such splendid times ahead. "all summer, if it didn't rain, because the creek would get lower all the time." paul himself observed, with emphasis, wishing to make every scout resolve to avoid this catastrophe, if it were at all possible. "who'd ever think," remarked jud, "that there was such a queer old place as this not more'n seven miles away from home? and not one of us ever poked a boat's nose up this same creek before paul came down, to spy out things." "oh! well, there's a reason for that," replied phil towns, who knew all about everything that had ever happened in and around stanhope. "until lately, when the scouts organized in these three towns, the boys of stanhope and those of manchester never had much to do with each other. many's the stone fight i've been in with those big mill chaps. sometimes we whipped them; and then again they chased us right home. so no stanhope boy ever dared go far down the river in the old days. that's the reason, i guess, why none of us ever tried to explore this place. say, we seem to be getting in worse and worse, paul. it isn't more'n a foot deep over there on the right, and less'n ten inches here on the left." "i know it, phil, and i'm beginning to be afraid we'll have to back out of this the best way we can," replied the scout master, reluctantly; for his heart had been set on carrying out this plan, and he hated to be compelled to give it up. hardly had he spoken than the boat brought up with a jolt that came near throwing several of the scouts into the water and mud. they had run aground after all! paul turned the motor to the reverse, and the little propeller fairly sizzled in its mad efforts to drag the craft back into clear water, but it was just as paul had said--there seemed to be innumerable hands clinging fore and aft that refused to let go. and in spite of all the work of the motor they did not move an inch. "rotten luck!" exploded jud elderkin, as he looked helplessly around, as if to see whether a fellow could at least jump ashore; but since ten feet of that ooze lay on either side, he failed to get much encouragement. "ahoy, _speedwell_, you'll have to give us a lift!" called paul, making a megaphone out of his hands. "y-y-yes, t-t-turn about's f-f-fair p-p-play," added bluff, waving his bugle. "we p-p-pulled you off, and n-n-now you g-g-got to return the f-f-favor." "listen!" said paul, sharply; "jack's calling something." and as they all lined up along the side of the _comfort_ they heard jack's voice come across the forty feet of water and mud, saying: "only wish we could, commodore; but sad to say, we're stuck about as fast in this lovely mess as you are, and can't budge her an inch!" chapter viii what the water gauge showed "well, here is a pretty kettle of fish!" grunted the disgusted jud. "we seem to take to sandbars and mud flats today to beat the band." paul had stopped the motor, since it seemed useless. but of course he did not mean to give up trying to get the boat off. "one thing's sure," he said, positively, when the others gathered around him, as if in this emergency they looked to the scout master to invent some method of beating the sticky mud at its own game; "every minute we stay here makes it all the worse for us." "yes, because our weight is sure to make the boat sink deeper in her nest!" declared little billie, leaning far over the side, as if to see how far down in her muddy bed the boat lay. "yes, that's one thing," added paul; "but another is the fact that the creek is falling all the time. unless it rains, there'll soon be nothing but mud around us. now, every fellow crowd back here, and leave the bow as free as we can. that might loosen the grip of the mud; and when i turn on the motor at full speed again, let's hope she'll move." it was a sensible suggestion; and indeed, about the only thing possible, since the other boat, being in the same fix, could not come near, either to give a friendly tug, or take off the _comfort's_ crew. when he had them all as far in the stern as they could get, with a warning not to allow themselves to be shaken loose, unless they wanted a mud bath, the skipper started his motor working. when it was going at full speed the boat quivered and strained, but did not move, so far as any one could see; and they were all eager to detect the first sign of motion. "no good!" sighed jud. "might as well look the thing in the face, fellows. here we stay, and eat up all our grub, day after day. ain't it fierce, though? how d'ye suppose we'll ever stand it? if anybody had a pair of wings now, and could fly ashore, we might get help to pull us out. but we couldn't use our wigwag flags, even if we tried, because who'd see 'em? oh! what tough luck!" paul may have felt somewhat discouraged himself, but he was not the fellow to betray the fact--so early in the game, at least. "well, jud," he said, soberly, "perhaps we may have to stick it out here for a while, but i hope it won't be as bad as you say. and make up your mind that if we do, it'll be a mighty strange thing, with eighteen wide awake scouts to think up all sorts of schemes and dodges that we can try." "that's the stuff, paul!" exclaimed phil towns. "every fellow ought to get right down to hard pan, and try to think up some way of beating this old sticky mud. what's the use of being scouts, if we let a little thing like this get the better of us? if i could only wade ashore, i'd fix a hawser to a tree back there, and then by workin' the engine p'raps we might pull the boat off. i've seen 'em do that with a steamboat, away down on indian river, when i was with my folks in florida last winter. and it worked, too." "well, try the wading; it looks fine!" laughed joe clausin. "don't think of it," called out gusty bellows at that moment. "i stuck this pole down in the soft slush, and my stars! it goes right through to china, i reckon. anyhow, i couldn't reach bottom. and if you jumped over, phil, you'd be up to your neck at the start. let's tie a rope under your arms first, anyhow." but paul quickly put an end to all this sort of talk. "there's no use trying anything like that," he said. "even if you did reach the shore, we haven't got a rope long and strong enough to do the business. besides, we may have help soon." with that all the boys began craning their necks, as if they expected to see some kind of a queer craft that could pass over mud as easily as other boats did water, bearing down on them, with the design of dragging them from the bank, "say, what does he mean? for the life of me i can't glimpse anything worth shucks; and the blooming old _speedwell_ seems to be sticking tight and fast, just the same way we are. loosen up, paul, and put us wise; won't you?" pleaded phil. "i didn't mean that any living thing was going to hold out a hand to us," remarked the smiling scout master; "but look aloft, boys, and see what's coming." with that they followed his instructions. a general shout went up. "whee! rain a-comin' down on us! get the curtains ready to button fast, boys, or we'll have all our fine stuff soaked through and through." little billie called, himself setting things in motion by seizing one of the rolled curtains, and letting it come down, to be fastened around the cockpit by means of gummets and screws. "but paul meant something else," declared jud elderkin, wisely. "you see, if only that rain does come, and it's heavy enough, there's going to be a lot more water in this old canal than we need to pull through with. you know how quick the bushkill river rises; and i guess it's the same way with the radway." "oh! don't we wish that there'll just be a little old cloud-burst!" cried gusty bellows. "i could stand anything but staying here seven or ten days, doin' nothing, only eat, and stare at this mud, and wish i was back home. come on, little clouds; get a move on you, and let's hear you growl like thunder." they had by now called the attention of the others to the prospects for rain. indeed, as soon as the first curtain fell, some of jack's crew took note of the significant fact, and they could be seen looking up at the blackening heavens. there had been very few times in the past when those boys had hoped it would rain. perhaps, when they were kept home from a picnic--for reasons--some of them may have secretly wished the clouds would let down a little flood, so that those who had been lucky enough to go, might not have such a laugh on them after all. but certainly they never felt just as they did now, while watching the play of those gathering storm clouds. "and the best of the joke is," commented jud, with a grin, "that lots of the good folks at home right now are looking up at those same black clouds, and pitying us boys. they don't realize how we're just praying that the rain won't turn out a fizzle, after all. wasn't that a drop i felt?" [transcriber's note: beginning of sentence missing from original text] till that gray gets nearly overhead," remarked paul, pointing up at a line marked across the heavens about half-way toward the horizon, and in the direction of the wind. "it's getting dark, anyway," remarked nuthin, rather timidly; for truth to tell, the small boy had never ceased to remember how, earlier in the season, when in camp up near rattlesnake mountain, a terrible storm had struck them and as he clung desperately to the tent they were trying to hold down, he had actually been carried up into the branches of a tree, from which position only the prompt work of his fellow scouts had finally rescued him. "and look at that flash of lightning, would you?" echoed joe clausin. "wow! that was a heavy bang; wasn't it? tell you now, that bolt must 'a struck somethin'! always does, they say, when it comes quick like that." "how's the cover; just as snug as you can make it, boys?" demanded paul; "because we'll likely get a bit of a blow first, before the rain comes, and it'd be a bad job if we lost this whole business. stand by to grab hold wherever you can. after that, if we weather it all right, there'll be no trouble." "and say, she's coming licketty-split, believe me," called jud. "i c'n hear it hummin' through the trees over there like the mischief. take hold, everybody; and don't let it get away from you!" "we'll all go up together this time, then!" muttered little nuthin; but with the grit that seemed a part of his nature, once he started in to do anything, he also seized the canvas covering at the bottom, and set his teeth hard. with a roar the wind struck them. had it come from the right quarter paul believed it might have helped work them loose; but it happened unfortunately that just the reverse was the case. if anything, they were driven on the mud-bank all the harder. but at any rate the tarpaulin canopy did not break loose, and that was something to be satisfied with. the wind whooped and howled for perhaps three minutes. then it died down, as if giving up the attempt to tear the boat's top out of the hands of the determined boys. "the worst's over, fellows!" called paul, breathing hard. "hurrah! that's better'n saying it is yet to come. how'd the _speedwell_ make out?" jud asked, sinking back on a thwart, the better to find some place to peep out. "seems to be all there," replied nuthin, who had been quicker to look than the more clumsy jud. "she's got her cover on, and i guess that means they're safe and sound; but she don't seem to be floatin' worth a cent. "no more are we; but listen, there comes the rain. now for it," observed paul, as with a rush the water began to descend, rattling on the roof of the canopy cover. "fine! keep right along that way for a while, and something's bound to get a move on it, which i hope will be our two boats!" cried gusty bellows. "did you ever hear it come down heavier than that?" demanded old dan tucker, as he looked anxiously around to see that none of the cargo was exposed to the flood. "wonder if this old thing sheds water?" suggested jud, looking up at the heavy canopy as though he fancied that he felt a stream trickling down the back of his neck. "you can bank on it," declared joe clausin. "anything mr. everett owns has got to be gilt-edged. and he'd never stand for a leaky canopy. what're you lookin' at out there, paul?" for the scout master was leaning a little out on the side away from their companion boat in misery. "why, you see," replied the scout master, drawing his head back, "i fixed a little contrivance here, just before the storm broke, and i'm looking now to see whether it shows the least gain in water. i marked this pole with inches, and rammed it just so far in the mud. if the water starts to rising any, i can tell as soon as i look." "and is she going up yet?" asked jud, eagerly, "well, it wouldn't be fair to expect that for some time yet," replied paul. "at the best i expect we'll have to stay here an hour or so, until the water up-stream has a chance to come down. i hope it may surprise me, and get here quicker than that. and boys, if we have to spend all that time doing nothing, why we might try that little oil stove mr. everett has, and see how it can get us a pot of coffee, with our cold lunch." "what time is it now?" asked jud; while old dan tucker pricked up his ears, at the prospect of "something doing" along his favorite line. "going on eleven; and i had my breakfast awful early!" remarked little billie. "and i had hardly a bite--reckon i was too much excited to eat--so i'm mighty near starved right now," declared dan tucker; but then the boys had known him to put up that same sort of a plea only an hour after devouring the biggest meal possible, so they did not expect to see him collapse yet awhile from weakness through lack of food. all the same, paul agreed that it might serve to distract their minds if they did have lunch. he also asked jud to get in communication with those on the other boat, if the rain had let up enough for them to exchange signals, and by means of the flag, tell them what those on the _comfort_ meant to do. just as bobolink, who answered, had informed them that those under jack were about to follow the same course, paul took another glance at his rude water gauge. when he drew in his head, jud, who had been waiting to tell what the others reported, saw that paul was smiling as though pleased. "what's doing, commodore?" he asked. "the water has risen half an inch, and is still going up," replied paul. at that there was a roar of delight--only old dan tucker was so busy watching the lunch being got ready, he did not seem to hear the joyous news. chapter ix on the swift radway "let me work my flags a little, and tell the other boat the news!" suggested jud; and as no one objected he got busy. it was good practice, and he had something worth while to communicate, so jud enjoyed the task. by the time he was through, lunch was ready, the coffee having boiled enough to please the most critical among the boys. "rain seems to be letting up some," remarked gusty bellows, as they gathered around to discuss what was to be their first meal of the trip. "oh! i hope it isn't going to tantalize us, and raise our hopes only to dash 'em down again," said gusty. "from the signs i don't think we're through with it all yet," paul observed; and as they had considerable faith in the acting scout master as a weather prophet, there arose a sigh of satisfaction at this remark. "take a look, and see if she's still moving up the scale, paul," begged the anxious phil towns. when this had been done, there was a look of eager expectancy on every face. "over a full inch since the start," paul reported. "and that's nearly half an hour back," complained gusty. "gee! if it goes up as slow as that, we'll be camping here at sun-down, sure, fellers." "oh! i don't know," paul put in, confidently; "you must remember that the rain has fallen all over the watershed that supplies both these rivers; and this canal now serves as a link between the two. if either one rises a good deal, we're just bound to get the benefit of that little flood. even at an inch an hour we could be moving out of this before a great while. and i expect that the rise will do better than that, presently. just eat away, and wait. nothing like keeping cool when you just have to." "yes, when you tumble overboard, like i did once on a time," chuckled jud. "i kept perfectly cool; in fact, none of you ever saw a cooler feller; because it was an ice-boat i dropped out of; and took a header into an open place on the good old bushkill. oh! i can be as cool as a cucumber--when i have to." an hour later paul announced that the rise had not only kept up as he predicted, but was increasing. "here's good news for you, fellows," he remarked, after examining his post, "if it keeps on rising like it's doing right now, we'll be starting in less than another hour!" "whoopee! that suits me!" cried gusty, enthusiastically. "ditto here," echoed jud. "i never was born for inaction; like to be doing something all the time." "so do i," paul observed, quietly; "but when i find myself blocked in one direction i just turn in another, and take up some other work. in that way i manage not only to keep busy, but to shunt off trouble as well. try it some time, jud, and i give you my word you'll feel better." but that next hour seemed very long to many of the impatient boys. they even accused the owner of the watch of having failed to wind it on the preceding night, just because it did not seem inclined to keep pace with their imagination. the water was rising steadily, if slowly, and some of them declared that there was now a perceptible motion to the boat whenever they moved about. urged on by an almost unanimous call, paul finally agreed to start the motor again, and see what the result would be. so jud sent the order to the second boat by means of his signal flags. when the cheerful popping of the _comfort's_ exhaust made itself heard, there was an almost simultaneous cheer from the scouts. "we're off!" they shouted, in great glee. "goodbye, old mud bank!" cried gusty, waving his hand in mock adieu to the unlucky spot where so much precious time had been wasted. "see you later!" "not much we will!" echoed joe clausin. "i've got that spot marked with a red cross in my mind, and if this boat ever gets close to it again, you'll hear this chicken cackle right smart. it's been photographed on my brain so that i'll see it lots of times when i wake up in the night." "how about the other boat?" asked paul, who was stooping down to fix something connected with the motor at the time, and could not stop to look for himself, although he could hear the throbbing of the _speedwell's_ machinery. "oh! she slid off easier than we did, i reckon," remarked old dan tucker, now snuggled down comfortably, and apparently in a mood to take things easy, since it would be a long time between "eats." "tell them to go slow, all the same, jud," paul remarked. "you don't seem to trust this creek as much as you might, paul?" chuckled gusty, who was handling the wheel, during the minute that paul was busy. "well, after that experience i confess that i'm a little suspicious of all kinds of mud banks. they're the easiest things to strike up an acquaintance with, and a little the hardest to say goodbye to, of anything i ever met. give her a little twist to the left, gusty. that place dead ahead don't strike me as the channel. that's the ticket. i guess we missed another slam into a waiting mud bank. now i'll take the wheel again, if you don't mind." "rain's over!" announced little billie. "looks like it, with that break up yonder," jud remarked, glancing aloft. "hope so, anyhow. we've had all the water we needed, and if it kept on coming we'd be apt to find things kind of damp up there at the island." the mention of that word caused several of the boys to glance quickly at each other. it was as though a shiver had chased up and down their spinal columns. for joe and little billie, and perhaps gusty bellows, were not quite as easy in their minds about that "ghost-ridden" island as they might have been; although, if taken to task, all would doubtless have stoutly denied any belief in things supernatural. the _comfort_ acted as the pilot boat, and led the way, slowly but surely, with the _speedwell_ not far behind. the latter had one or two little adventures with flirting mud banks, but nothing serious, although on each occasion the cries of dismay from the crew could be plainly heard aboard the leading craft. and so they came in sight of a river that had a decided current, after the smart shower had added considerably to its flow. by now the sun was shining, and the rain clouds had about vanished, being "hull-down" in the distance, as jud expressed it; for since they were now on a voyage, he said that they might as well make use of such nautical terms as they could remember. "that's the roaring radway, i take it," observed gusty, as all of them caught glimpses of the river through the trees ahead. "just what it is," replied paul; "and as it has quite a strong current, we're going to have our hands full, pushing up the miles that lie between here and our camping place." "but we c'n do it before dark; can't we, paul?" asked phil towns. "sure we can, if nothing happens to knock us out," said gusty, before the other could reply. "why, we've got several hours yet, if we did have such tough luck in the blooming old canal." "we ought to be mighty glad we got off as as easy as we did, that's what!" declared old dan tucker, who was something of a philosopher in his way, and could look at the bright side as well as the next one, always providing the food supply held out. ten minutes later the _comfort_ was in radway river, headed up-stream. just as paul had said, the current proved very swift, and while the little motor worked faithfully and well, their progress was not very rapid. besides, it kept them always on the watch. no one was acquainted with the channel, and the presence of rocks might not always be detected from surface indications. some of the treacherous snags were apt to lie out of sight, but ready to give them a hard knock, and perhaps smash a hole in the bow. and so paul stationed two boys in positions where they could watch for every suspicious eddy, which was to be brought to his attention immediately it was discovered. an hour passed, and they were still moving steadily up the river. paul, in reply to many questions by his impatient comrades, announced that to the best of his knowledge they ought to arrive at their destination an hour and more before dark; which pacified the croakers, who had been saying the chances were they would have to spend their first night on the bank, short of the island by a mile or more. "that's all right," old dan tucker had remarked; "just so long as we get ashore in time to build our cooking fire, it suits me." everything seemed to be moving along with clock-like regularity, the boat breasting the current and throwing the spray in fine style, when jud gave a cry. "something's happened to the _speedwell_!" he announced. of course every eye was instantly turned back, and they were just in time to see something that announced the truth of jud's assertion. andy flinn stood up in the bow of the second boat, which no longer chugged away as before, and he threw something out that splashed in the water. "it's their anchor!" cried jud. "either somebody's overboard, or else their motor's broken down!" "it's the motor, i guess," paul observed. "get out our anchor, and follow suit." chapter x dodging the snags and the snares a minute later both motorboats lay anchored in the middle of the swift-flowing radway, and about sixty feet apart. "what's the matter?" shouted jud, taking it upon himself to learn the facts in the quickest possible time, so that signal flags were not used. "something's happened to our motor; but jack thinks he can fix her up, given a little time," came in the voice of bobolink. "well, call on us if we can help out any," paul shouted; for the slapping of the water against the sides of the boat, as well as over the stones on either hand, made it hard to hear plainly. "what if they can't fix the motor up?" remarked phil towns; "i hope that won't mean we've got to spend the whole night out here in the middle of the river." "oh i if it comes to the worst, we can tow her ashore; and then it's camp on the river bank for ours," announced paul, cheerfully. he always seemed to have plans made up in advance, as though anticipating every trouble that could arise, and getting ready for it. "huh! that mightn't be so bad, after all," grunted joe clausin; and even gusty bellows and little billie nodded their heads, as if agreeing that there were things less desirable than camping on the bank. the minutes dragged along, until half an hour had gone. even paul began to show signs of restlessness. he finally made a megaphone of his hands, and called to bobolink: "tell jack to step up; i'd like to ask him a question or two." "ay, ay, sir," replied the other, touching his forelock in true man-o'-war style, and immediately the head of jack appeared. "what's the good word, jack?" asked the commodore of the expedition. "can you make the mend, d'ye think; and just about how long is it going to take you?" "between five and ten minutes, not more," came the reply; "i've got the hang of it now, and the end's in sight." "whoopee! that sounds good to me!" shouted gusty bellows, waving his hat. five minutes had hardly passed before they heard the familiar pop-pop-pop of the _speedwell's_ motor exhaust. "how is it?" called paul once more. "fine and dandy," answered bobolink, waving his bugle; and giving a few vigorous blasts to indicate that victory was nigh. "they're hauling in the anchor, which is a good sign," declared nuthin. presently both boats were again breasting the stream. apparently no serious result had come from the accident, save that more than a good half-hour had been wasted. but still paul declared that he had hopes of making their destination before darkness set in. the sun was getting very low, and the river looked desolate indeed. it was bordered by swampy land; and where the ground showed, there seemed to be such a vast number of rocks that farming had never been attempted. "what d'y'e suppose is in those marshes?" gusty asked, after they had passed about the fifth. "i understand that a lot of cranberries are gathered here every fall, and sent down to the cities for the market," jud elderkin replied. "and seems to me a bear was killed last year somewhere up here," nuthin' put in, rather timidly. "so i'm glad you brought that gun along, paul. we are not lookin' for a bear, because we never lost one; but if he _did_ come to camp it'd be nice to feel that we could give the old chap a warm reception." "huh! i can see the warm reception he'd get," chuckled jud. "seventeen trees would each one have a scout sitting up in the branches as quick as hot cakes. guess paul would have to be the reception committee all alone." "don't you believe it," remarked gusty bellows; "you'd see me making for the axe in a _big_ hurry, i believe in an axe. it makes one of the greatest weapons for defence you ever saw. i've practiced swinging it around, and i know just how to strike." "well, we'll remember that; won't we, fellows?" remarked jud, with a laugh. "plenty of axe exercise gusty needs, to keep him in trim for bears; and i can see now how our firewood is going to be attended to." they kept pushing on all the while; and there was never a time that the lookout did not have to keep his eyes on the alert, because of the traps and snares that lay in wait for the voyagers up the rough radway. "great river, i don't think!" joe clausin ventured to remark, after they had done considerable dodging, to avoid a mass of rocks that blocked the way in a direct line. "still, you'll notice that there's always a passage around," said paul. "it's that way with nearly everything. lots of times we don't see the opening till we get right on it, and then all of a sudden, there's the path out." "i guess you're right, paul," observed joe. "things do happen to a fellow sometimes, in a funny way, and just when he feels like giving up, he sees the light. you remember a lot of trouble i had once, and how it turned out splendidly? and so i learned my lesson, i sure did. i look at things different now. it showed me how silly it is to worry over things that you can't help." "but all the same," remarked gusty, "i wish we had a squint at that same old lake ahead. it's getting sunset, and beyond, paul." "i know it, and we must be pretty near the place now," replied the scout master. "unless we see it inside of ten minutes i'll have to give the word to turn in to the shore at the next half-way decent landing, where there seems to be enough water to float our boats." "there's a good place right now," declared joe, pointing; "and we mightn't run across as fine a landing again." "ten minutes, i said," repeated paul, positively; because he believed that there were certain signs to tell him they would come in sight of the big lake, from which the radway flowed, after they had turned the next bend. somehow the others seemed to guess what he had in mind, and all were anxiously watching as they drew near the bend. as the trees ceased to shut out their view, they gave a shout of delight, for the lake was there, just as paul had anticipated. "whew! she's a big place, all right!" declared jud, as they looked toward the distant shore, where the trees seemed lost in the shadows. "i never dreamed there was a lake like this so near stanhope," declared joe, as he stared. "that one up by rattlesnake mountain could be put in a corner of tokala, and wouldn't be missed. and say, that must be the island over yonder; don't you think so, paul?" "look and see if you can sight a cedar growing on the top of the hill that they say stands in the middle of the island," suggested the scout master, still busy at the wheel; for the danger was not yet all over, as they had not entered the lake itself, though very near. "it's there, all to the good!" announced jud. "anybody could see that" added gusty, who was a little jealous of the superior eyesight of several of his comrades, he being a trifle near-sighted. "well, if we are going to make a job of it, the sooner it's over the better," was the queer remark joe made; but no one paid any particular attention to his words, they were so taken up with watching the island. and so the leading motorboat left the noisy waters of the radway, and glided into the smoother lake, much to the satisfaction of the crew; for the boys had grown tired of the constant need of watchfulness in avoiding reefs and snags. paul shut off power, and waited to see whether the companion boat succeeded in reaching the calm waters of the big lake as successfully as they had done. as it was now pretty close to dark, in spite of the half-moon that hung overhead, seeing the partly hidden rocks was not an easy task. and so he watched with not a little concern the progress of the _speedwell_ during those last few minutes. but jack was alive to the situation; and managed to bring his boat safely through, being greeted with a cheer from those on board the waiting _comfort_. "now it's straight for the island!" called out bobolink, as the boats drew together, and the motors started as cheerfully as if they had not undergone a hard day's work from the time the voyagers left stanhope. "we'll have to make camp by firelight, that's plain," grumbled gusty. "what's the odds, so long as we get fairly comfortable for the night?" bobolink retorted, being one of the kind who can make the best of a bad bargain when necessary. "all we want to do is to get the tents up and a fire going, so we can cook something. then in the morning we'll do all the fancy fixing you can shake a stick at, and try out all the new wrinkles every fellow's had in mind since our last camp. this is what i like. a lake for me, with an island in it that nobody lives on, but p'raps an old wildcat or a she bear with cubs." "but they say something _does_ live on it, and that he's a terror too; a real wild man that's got hair all over him like a big baboon--i heard it from a man that saw him once, and he wouldn't lie about it either," joe clausin called out. although the rest of the scouts mocked him, and pretended to jeer at the idea of such a thing as a wild man existing so near stanhope, nevertheless, as the two motorboats gradually shortened the distance separating them from the mysterious island, they gazed long at the dark mass lying on the still water of the big lake and its gloomy appearance affected them. just as joe clausin had said, it had a real "spooky" air, that, at the time, with night at hand, did not impress them very favorably. chapter xi the camp on cedar island it was with extreme caution that the two motor-boats crept along the shore of the island, with numerous eyes on the lookout for a good landing place. "seems to be plenty of water right here," remarked jud, who was sounding with one of the poles. "eight feet, if an inch, paul." paul shut off the power immediately. "and this looks like the best sort of place to make our landing," he said. "if we don't like it, or find a better for a permanent camp in the morning, we can change. get busy with the poles, fellows, and shove the boat alongside that bank there." this was readily done, and jud was the first to jump ashore. he wanted to be able to say that of the whole troop he had landed before any one else, ghost or no ghost. soon the others followed suit, even if joe and little billie--and yes, gusty bellows also looked timidly around. there was nuthin, always reckoned a rather timorous chap, showing himself indifferent to spirits, and all such things. what bothered nuthin concerned material things, like cats, and dogs, and wandering bears; he snapped his fingers at spooks, because he had never seen one, and did not believe in "fairy stories," as he called them, anyway. as the second boat came alongside, and her crew swarmed over the side, there were plenty of hands to do things, though they naturally looked to paul for orders. "a fire, first, fellows!" called out the scout master; "so we can see what we're doing. because it's getting pretty dark around here, with these trees overhead. jud, you take charge of that part, and the rest gather wood." many hands make light work, and in what bobolink called a "jiffy" there came plenty of wood of all kinds, from dead branches to small-sized logs. jud, like every true scout, knew just how to go about starting a fire. true, the recent rain had wet pretty much all of the wood, so that a tenderfoot would have had a difficult task getting the blaze started, though after that trouble had been surmounted it would not be so bad. but jud knew just how to split open a log, and find the dry heart that would take fire easily; and in a brief time he had his blaze springing up. then others began to bring some of the things ashore, particularly the tents, in which they expected to sleep during their stay. most of the boys were deeply impressed by the size of both the lake and the island; since they had not dreamed that things would be upon such a large scale. then there was that strange silence, broken only by the constant murmur of the water passing out, where the radway river had its source; and perhaps, when a dry spell lowered the water of the lake, even this might not be heard. it seemed to some of the scouts as though they were isolated from all the rest of the world, marooned in a desolate region, and with many miles between themselves and other human beings. however, when the white tents began to go up, as the several squads of workers took hold in earnest, things began to look more cheerful. there is nothing that chases away the "blues" quicker than a cheerful fire, and the sight of "homey" tents. "in the morning, if we feel like it, we can put up a flagstaff in front, and fly not only our banner, but old glory as well," paul observed. "and now, suppose some of you fellows give me a hand here." "what you going to do, paul?" asked old dan tucker, eagerly. "begin to get supper," came the answer. "i'll give you a hand there," said the other. "me too," said nat smith, who was a clever cook. and when the odor of coffee began to steal through the camp, the boys felt amply repaid for all they had undergone in the rough trip from stanhope. they sniffed the air, and smiled, and seemed ready to declare the expedition a great success. more than that, the cooks being blessed with healthy appetites themselves, had cut generous slices from one of the fine hams, and these were also on the fire, sizzling away at a great rate, and throwing off the most tempting odors imaginable. it was a happy sight about that time, and showed the best side of camp life. all of the boys belonging to the red fox patrol at least, had been through the mill before, and knew that there was another side to the picture; when the rain descended, and the wind blew with hurricane force, possibly tearing the canvas out of their hands, and leaving them exposed to the storm, to be soaked through. but of course they hoped nothing of that sort was going to happen to them on this trip. once a year ought to be enough. if the season of preparation was delightful, what shall be said of that time when the eighteen boys sat around in favorite attitudes, each with a cup of steaming coffee beside him, to which he could add sugar and condensed milk to suit his taste; while on his knees he held a generous-sized tin pannikin, upon which was heaped a mess of friend potatoes and ham, besides all the bread he could dispose of? "this is the stuff; it's what i call living!" bobolink remarked. "you never said truer words." mumbled old dan tucker, who was about as busy as a beaver, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "one thing sure!" declared spider; "when dan stops eating, he'll quit living." "huh! guess all of us will," added curly baxter. they were in no hurry to finish the feast; and when the end did arrive, it would take a microscope to discover any crumbs left over. "the worst is yet to come," announced jud, "and that's washing up." but all these things had been arranged for beforehand, so that in due course of time every fellow would have his share of camp duties. today he might have to assist in the cooking; tomorrow help wash dishes; the next day be one of the wood-getters; and then perhaps on the fourth blissful day, he would be at liberty to just loaf! and no doubt that last day was the one most of them would be apt to enjoy above all else; for otherwise they would hardly have been flesh and blood boys. while those whose duty lay in cleaning up after the meal were engaged, some of the others joined paul in bringing the blankets ashore, and distributing them to the various tents. there were three of the latter, which would allow of six boys to each, perhaps a rather "full house"--but then they could curl up and not take much room. "aren't we going to keep any watch, paul?" asked joe clausin, when later on some of the more tired talked of turning in. "watch for what?" demanded bobolink. "guess joe thinks ted slavin and his crowd might get over here, and throw stones at our tents, like they did once before," suggested nuthin. "well, they do say there's a wild man around here," declared joe, in a half hesitating way; for he was actually ashamed to expose his belief in supernatural things for fear of being laughed at. "let mr. wild man come around; who cares?" sang out bobolink. "why, the circuses are always wantin' wild men, you know; and i guess we'd get a pretty hefty sum now, if we could capture this wonderful critter that's been living here so long covered with the skins of wild beasts he's ate up. it's me to hit the rubber pillow i fetched along. and joe, if you want to watch, nobody is going to keep you from doing it" and with these words bobolink dodged into the tent that he knew his mess belonged to; in which action he was followed by numerous other scouts. joe, finding himself left in the lurch, cast a fearful glance around at the heavy growth of timber on one side the camp, the lake being on the other; after which he shook his head as though the prospect of sitting there by the dying fire did not appeal very much to him--and crawled under the flap, too. perhaps it could hardly be said that silence rested on the scene; for with a dozen and a half boys trying to get to sleep there is always more or less horseplay. but an hour later, something like quiet settled down. the fire was dying out, too, since they had no reason for keeping it going, the night air being balmy. midnight came and went, and it must have been toward two o'clock in the morning when every boy suddenly sat upright, as though a galvanic shock had passed in and out of every tent. so it had, for the very earth trembled under them, as a terrific detonation sounded, just as though a bolt of lightning had struck a nearby tree. and some of the scouts were ready to declare that the shock had been accompanied by a brilliant electric flash, that almost blinded them. immediately there began to be an upheaval, as blankets were tossed aside and the scouts crawled or scrambled from under, uttering all sorts of exclamations, and apparently too dazed to account for the phenomenon. they began to swarm out of the tents, and loud were the outcries of astonishment when they discovered not a cloud as big as a hand in the starry heavens. chapter xii was it a bursting meteor? "who hit me?" exclaimed bobolink, rubbing his eyes as he gained his feet and looked around at the dimly-seen forms of the other scouts; for the moon had by now sunk behind the horizon. "what busted?" demanded nuthin. "i bet it was that bottle of raspberry vinegar my sister put in my knapsack. it's gone sour, and exploded, sure as anything." strange to say, none of the others even bothered laughing at such a foolish remark as this. they stared at the clear sky overhead, and the twinkling stars looking down upon them, just as though winking to each other, and enjoying the confusion of the valiant scouts. even paul, who generally knew everything, seemed mystified. "i declare if i can tell what it was," he said upon being appealed to by some of the others in the group. "i was sound asleep, like the rest of you, when all of a sudden it seemed as if the end of the world had come. i felt the ground shake under me and as i opened my eyes it seemed as if i was nearly blinded. the flash came and went just like lightning, and that bang was what would pass for thunder in a storm; but for the life of me i can't see any sign of trouble up there." "and we don't hear anything more; do we?" demanded jud. "sounded like a big cannon to me," remarked jack. "couldn't be that the state troops are out, and having manoeuvres, with a sham battle, could it?" questioned gusty bellows. "well, hardly, without somebody knowing about it. and they generally take up that sort of thing later in the year. there's only one explanation that sounds a bit reasonable to me," paul went on. "tell us what that is, then?" asked bobolink. "i've heard about meteors falling, and exploding when they hit the earth," the scout master went on to say. "that's right!" echoed jack; "and say, they're always accompanied by a dazzling light, as they shoot through space, burning the air along with them. yes, siree, that must have been a big meteor stone." "then it struck the earth right close to our camp, mark me," vowed jud. "ain't i glad it didn't pick out this spot to drop on," crowed nuthin. "whew! guess we'd have been squashed flatter than that pancake you hear about." "what are meteors made up of--they drop from stars; don't they?" asked bob tice. "oh! there's just millions and billions of 'em flying around loose," said phil towns, who liked to read of astronomy at times. "lots of 'em happen to get caught in the envelope of air that surrounds the earth. then they fall victims to the force of gravitation, and come plunging down at such speed that they do really burn the air, just like jack said. you see, they're made up for the most part of metals, and our old earth draws 'em like a monster magnet." "is that what shooting stars are?" bob went on to ask. "why, yes, they're really small meteors. we often pass through a mess of 'em. i've counted hundreds in a single night," phil continued, always willing to give any information he could along his favorite study. "well, they say lightning don't strike in the same place twice; and that goes with your old buzzing meteors too, i reckon; so what's the use in our staying up any longer?" remarked bobolink, who seemed quite satisfied with the explanation paul had given of the queer noise, and the flash of brilliant light. so they crawled back into their snug nests, and tried to compose themselves for sleep. but it is extremely doubtful whether a single one of those eighteen boys secured so much as a decent cat-nap between that hour and dawn. despite their apparent belief in the explanation of the phenomenon advanced by paul, the boys could not get rid of the notion that that tremendous crash had something to do with the strange things told about the haunted island, and which helped to give it its bad name. they were up pretty early, too. the first birds were beginning to chirp in the brush when figures came crawling out of the tents, with a great stretching of arms, and long yawns. then the lake tempted many of the boys, and a great splashing announced that those who could swim were enjoying a morning dip while others were taking a lesson in learning the first rudiments in the art; for paul wanted every scout in stanhope troop to be able to swim and dive before the fall came on. the scout master himself watched the proceedings, hardly able to get his own dip because of his anxiety concerning those who, for the time being, had been placed in his charge. this thing of being responsible for seventeen lively boys is not all that it may be cracked up to be; especially if the acting scout master is a conscientious chap, alive to his duties. paul felt the weight of the load; but he did not shrink. breakfast was presently under way, and nobody found any fault when bobolink announced that he meant to instruct nat smith and another boy just how to go about making those delicious flapjacks for which he himself had become famous. in the cooking contests, at the time the stanhope troop carried off their banner in competition with the troops of manchester and aldine, bobolink had easily outclassed all rivals when it came to the science of camp cookery, and his flapjacks were admitted without a peer, so that ever since, when the boys had an outing, there was always a shout when it was found that bobolink was willing to get a mess of cakes ready for their attention. although most of the boys had looked a bit peaked, and even haggard, when they first issued from the tents, this had long since vanished. the frolic in the cool water, and now this feast in the open, proved the finest tonics possible. they were now filled with new energy and pluck. nobody dreamed of being frightened away from camp by such a little thing as a meteor bursting near by, or any other strange happening. perhaps, when night came around again, this buoyant feeling might take wings, and fly away; but then, there would be fourteen and more hours before darkness again assailed them, and what was the use fretting over things so far removed? all had made up their minds to do a lot of things while up at camp, according to their various tastes. one began to look around for subjects he could take snapshots of, having a liking for photography. another got a companion to take up a station along the shore, so that they could exchange messages, using the flags and the code. then there were several who evinced a decided interest in finding the tracks of wild animals, like a raccoon, or a rabbit, or even a squirrel, when nothing better presented itself. these they minutely examined, and applied all sorts of theories in forming the story of the trail. in many cases these proved very entertaining indeed, and paul was always pleased, with jack's assistance, to pass on such things, being adapted through practical experience to correct errors, and set the beginner straight on certain facts that he had mixed. there were numerous other things to do also. one boy loved to hunt wild flowers, and as soon as he could coax a mate to accompany him, since paul would not allow the scouts to go off alone, he busied himself in the undergrowth, looking in mossy spots for some of the shy blossoms that appealed to his collecting taste. another seemed to have a love for geology. he wanted to find specimens of every sort of stone, and hinted of certain stories of mining having been carried on in these regions a century or two ago. but as he did not find any ore that contained precious minerals in paying quantities, during their stay on cedar island, the chances are that his father will still have to go right along paying his bills, even after he gets into college later in life. the morning was slipping away fast, and they had not found any better place to settle on for a camp. it seemed that, by the merest chance, they had hit upon the best spot for a short stay on the island. three of the boys wandered along the shore, fishing. paul had seen them pull in several good-sized bass, and began to make up his mind that after all they were going to have a fish dinner, if the luck held. he was even debating whether he dared leave camp for a while, and taking his jointed rod, joined the trio who had wandered around the bend of the eastern shore of the island; for paul certainly did love to feel a lively fish at the end of his line, and could not think of leaving lake tokala without giving its finny inhabitants a chance to get acquainted with him. just as he had about decided that he could be spared for the hour that still remained until noon, paul thought he heard a shout. now, the scouts had more than a few times given tongue during the morning, when engaged in some boisterous game; but it struck paul, whose nerves were always on the alert for such things, while this responsibility rested on his shoulders, that there was certainly a note, as of alarm, about this particular outcry. it seemed to come from around that bend, too, where he had seen the three boys disappear. even as he looked in that direction, he saw something come in sight among the rocks that lay so thickly around. it was gusty bellows, one of the anglers; yes, and there was little billie just behind him, taking great leaps that promised to speedily leave the other far in the lurch. paul's heart seemed to stand still. where was jud, who had been in the company of the two? what could have happened? the scout master dropped his rod, which he had been in the act of jointing, and started on a run to meet the two fishermen; for he could hear them shouting, though unable to distinguish just what they were saying. chapter xiii the footprints in the sand then paul felt a sensation of sudden relief pass over him. he had discovered a third figure running, some distance in the rear of the other scouts; and when he recognized this as jud elderkin, he knew that whatever might have happened to frighten the fishermen, at least none of them seemed to be in any immediate danger. of course, by this time scouts were springing up all around, and all heading toward the common centre, which would be where paul and the fishermen must meet. little billie was the first one to arrive, for, being possessed of long legs, in spite of his name, he could get over ground at a prodigious rate, given cause. and judging from his ashen face, he had plenty of that right now. "what is it?" demanded paul, as the other came panting along. "wild man!" gasped little billie. "whee!" exclaimed bobolink, who had managed to get near enough to catch what was said. "'fraid he nabbed poor jud!" said gusty, now reaching the spot, and just about at his last gasp. "not much he didn't, because there he comes now!" ejaculated bobolink. "oh! mercy!" exclaimed little billie, evidently thinking he meant the wild man. "it's jud, and all to the good; but even he looks white around the gills, too, paul. they must have seen _something_, to give 'em all such a scare," bobolink went on to say. "you just bet we did; ask jud!" declared gusty, just as though he imagined the others might question their veracity, but would believe the patrol leader, who was now coming along with great leaps and bounds. and presently jud elderkin halted at the group. he looked first at gusty, and then at little billie. there was a question in his eye. "sure, we saw it, too, jud!" declared gusty, holding up his quivering hand just as though he were in the witness box; but then, as his father was a lawyer, possibly gusty often experimented on himself, since he meant to either take up the same pursuit in life, or give his magnificent voice a chance to earn him a living in the role of an auctioneer. "me too; and say, wasn't it a terror, though?" the tall scout declared. "well, i didn't wait long enough to have any words with the thing," admitted jud. "you see, i happened to be further away from home than the other fellows, and i knew i'd have more space to cover. so, after letting out a yell to sort of warn 'em, why i just put for cover. never ran faster even between bases. thought he'd get me sure before i rounded that bend; but when i looked back, blessed if he wasn't grabbin' up our strings of fish like fun, and making off with 'em. i don't know right now whether i'm just scared, or only boiling mad. tell me, somebody!" "a little of both, i guess!" declared bobolink, grinning. "say, then, it wasn't just a big yarn about that wild man, after all; was it?" said tom betts. "how about that, little billie; did you see him?" demanded jud. "did i? think i was runnin' for my health? why, he looked all of seven feet high to me, and covered with long hair. talk about your robinson crusoe making him a coat of an old nanny goat, that feller was in the same class; eh, gusty?" loudly asserted the tall boy. "i saw him, all right, don't you forget it," declared the one addressed. "and i certain sure thought he was after _me_. but if jud says he took our nice string of bass, why that changes the thing, and makes me mad as hops. think of us workin' all that time, only to fill up a crazy crank. next time i go fishin' i'm meanin' to sit home, and do it off the door step." paul was revolving many things in his mind and trying to understand. "i want several of you to go back with me," he said, presently; "the rest head for camp or go about whatever you were doing." "want to take a squint at his tracks; eh, paul?" asked jud. "no harm done if we do," remarked bobolink, thus declaring his intention of being one of those who were to accompany the leader. jack also went along, and jud, making four in all; but the last mentioned refused to budge a foot until he had obtained a healthy-looking club, which he tucked under his arm. "now, i want to warn that same critter to keep his distance from me," jud said, as he led off with long strides. "he gave me one scare, and i promise you that if he tries that game again there's going to be a warm time around these regions. but i reckon he's satisfied with all our nice fish, and we won't see anything of him until he gets good and hungry again. wonder if he eats 'em raw, chinese fashion, or has some way of making a fire?" "what's that over yonder?" asked paul. "where?" gasped jud, brandishing his club. "looks like a string of fish; and so, you see, the wild man didn't get _all_ you fellows caught. we'll just pick that lot up, and trot along," observed paul. "he got mine, all right; these must have been what one of the other fellows had. you see, they were so badly rattled they just cut and run, and held on to their rods only. yep, there's a second string of fish, and that accounts for both; but you needn't think mine'll be laying around, for he got 'em. "well, show me just about where he was when you saw him last," paul demanded. jud could easily do this. they found the print of human feet in the earth. it must have been an unusually large foot that made the marks; and this tallied with what had been said about the height of the wild man. "you're not goin' to try and follow him, i hope, paul?" asked jud, uneasily, as if he drew the line at certain things, ready and willing as he might be to back the scout master in most ventures. "oh! it wouldn't pay us," retorted paul. "as one of the boys said, we haven't lost any wild man; and so far as i know there's no one missing around stanhope, so it can't be some man from there. i think we'd do well to mind our own business in this affair; don't you, fellows?" "yes, i do," replied jack, "but i was wondering whether this thing will crop up to give us a heap of bother while we're camping up here." "how's that?" asked bobolink. "there's only one thing that gives me any carking care, and you know what that is, jack, old boy. if i only knew about those boxes, i'd be so much easier in my mind." "well," said paul, "if this crazy man would steal our fish, he'd just as lief take anything else we've got that's good to eat. when he smells our coffee cooking it'll call up some long-forgotten craving for the java bean; and first thing you know he'll be invading our camp every night, hunting around for any old thing he can steal." "now, i like that," said bobolink, satirically. "nice prospect, ain't it, not to be able to step out of the tent of nights, without bumping noses with that awful man friday in wild animal shows? p'raps in self-defense we may have to do that grand capture act after all, paul." "well, there's nothing more to learn here, so we might as well turn back again. as i don't see anything of your string of fish, jud, i calculate that he must have gotten away with 'em. we can add a few more to these, and have enough for a regular feast. come on, boys, back to camp for us." some way or other it was noticed that during the early afternoon most of the boys hung around the camp. it seemed to have an especial attraction for them all. one busied himself sorting over the collection of the morning in the way of plants. a second was polishing up certain specimens of quartz he had found, after cracking some of the round stones that had washed on the island during a flood, possibly many years back. a third developed his pictures, having brought along his daylight tank. and so it went, until paul smiled to observe what a busy colony he had in his charge. on his part, he took a rod and line, with some bait, and went off with jack to add to the number of fish, so that there would be enough for all at supper time. and as the others had fished in one direction, paul and his chum decided to move in the other. they put in an hour with very fair success, considering that it was not the best part of the day for fishing. of course, as they walked along, keeping close to one another, occasionally paul and jack would chat on various subjects. they also kept their eyes open, not wishing to be taken by surprise, should that hairy individual, who seemed to have a craving for fish, rush out at them. and more than that, paul had copied the example set by jud. it was fashionable about that time not to walk forth without a nice little irish shillelah under one's arm, with which a head could be made to sing unmercifully, in case of necessity. paul had just had a pretty lively time with a good fish, and had succeeded in bringing his prize to land, when he happened to look down at the beach on which he was standing. bobolink and tom betts were coming along, as though curious to see how fast the stock of provisions for supper was increasing. so paul bent down to examine something that had caught his attention. the other three coming up, jack having joined bobolink and tom, found the scout master still on his hands and knees. "hello! found something, have you?" asked bobolink. "mebbe the footprints of the ghost!" chuckled tom, meaning to be humorous. but jack saw that his chum was very serious; and as he dropped down beside paul, he let his eyes fall upon the sand. "what's this, paul?" he remarked, immediately. "looks like the prow of a rowboat had been pulled up here--why, that's a dead certainty, because look at the plain prints of boots here, and several different kinds, too. shows that somebody landed here on the island; and paul, it must have been _after_ that rain storm, for these marks don't seem to be washed, as they would be if the rain had beat down on them. what in the world d'ye suppose it means? are there people on this queer old cedar island? if there are, who can they be, and why should they hide from everybody like this?" as jack said this he looked up. bobolink and tom were staring at the plain marks in the sand, with wonderment written on their faces; and even paul shook his head. chapter xiv trying to figure it all out "we'll have to look into this thing," said paul, finally, seeing that his three chums were waiting for an opinion from the one they looked up to as their leader. "but what i said was pretty close to the truth; wasn't it, paul?" jack asked. "every word of it" came the ready response, for paul was always willing to give every fellow his meed of praise. "the only trouble is, it stops right where you left off. none of us can say a word after that." "how many men were there in the crowd?" asked tom betts. "i could make out four," replied jack; "you take another look, paul, and see if that's correct." "i know it is," remarked the scout master, nodding, "because i counted them before i called you. and they seemed to lift something heavy from the boat, which they carried away into the bushes here." "whee! something heavy, eh?" burst out the impetuous bobolink; "and they carried it between them, two and two; was it, paul?" "why, yes, two on each side; if you look close, you can see where they stepped into each other's footprints," assented the patrol leader. "that's so," agreed bobolink, after bending down hastily; "just like--er--you've seen the pall-bearers at a funeral!" "oh!" exclaimed tom, turning a little white at the idea. "of course, that isn't saying it _was_ a funeral," remarked bobolink, hastily, as he noticed that paul glanced at jack, and the two shook their heads a trifle, as though the idea failed to impress them favorably. "but whatever it was, they seemed to find it heavy, the way their toes dug into the sand here." "yes, it was heavy, all right," admitted paul. "i think, from the way the rear men stepped into the prints of the one up head, that whatever they were carrying could not have been very lengthy; in fact, it must have been short, but rather broad." "well, that's a smart idea of yours, paul, and i c'n see how you hit on it," bobolink was quick to say, with a look of sincere admiration. "but whatever do you reckon would bring four men up here to this lonely island, carrying some heavy object in a rowboat?" tom betts went on. "that's where we have to do our guessing," paul replied. "we don't know; and as they haven't been obliging enough to write it out, and fasten the card to a tree, why, we've just got to put on our thinking caps, as my mother would say." "well, we've had some experience in the past with hoboes; think they could be a batch of weary willies, paul?" remarked tom betts. "i'm not ready to say off-hand that they're not," replied the other, slowly; "but it hardly seems likely. in the first place, every one of them seemed to be wearing sound shoes. did you ever know four tramps to do that?" "well, i should say not," replied bobolink, scornfully. "it'd be a wonder if one out of four had shoes that'd hold on without a lot of rope. you clinched that idea the first thing, paul." "then what'd you say they were?" demanded tom. bobolink rubbed his chin reflectively. "a heap of difference between plain tramps, and the kind they call yeggs; isn't there, paul?" he asked, presently. "everybody says so," came the answer. "yegg-men are supposed to be the toughest members of the tramp tribe. they're really burglars or safe-blowers, who pretend to be hoboes so they can prowl around country towns, looking up easy snaps about the banks and stores that ought to be good picking. and so you think these four men might belong to that crowd, do you, bobolink?" "it's barely possible, anyhow," the one addressed went on, doggedly. "and i was just trying to remember if i'd heard of any robbery lately. there was a store broke into over at marshall two weeks ago, and the thieves carried off a lot of stuff. but seems to me, the men got nabbed later on. i'm a little hazy about it, though. but supposin' now, that these four men had made a rich haul somewhere, and wanted to hide their stuff in a good place, could they find a better one than up here on cedar island?" the other three exchanged glances. "i guess that's about right," admitted tom. "it's certainly quiet enough to suit anybody; and chances are they wouldn't be disturbed in a coon's age," declared jack. "our coming here was a freak. it mightn't happen again in many years." "and this old island's already got a bad name; hasn't it?" bobolink went on. "that would help keep people away," admitted paul. "i've heard of men coming up in this region winters, trapping the muskrats that swarm in the marshes; but up to cranberry picking time it's almost deserted." "jack, you must have had an idea, too?" remarked bobolink. "well, i did; but perhaps the rest of you'll only give me the laugh if i mention it," replied jack. "all the same, it isn't fair to keep anything back," tom declared. "my guess didn't pan out much, and you couldn't have worse luck than that. so tell us." "yes, go on, jack, and give us the benefit of your think-box. i've known you to get away up head more'n a few times, when it came to a live race. and mebbe some of the rest of us mightn't think so badly of your idea as you do yourself," and as he said this bobolink sat down on the sand to listen, all the while eyeing those mysterious tracks as though he half expected them to give tongue, and tell the true story of their origin. "oh! well, that seems only fair, so here goes," jack began. "somehow i happened to remember that once on a time i read about some counterfeiters who had their nest in an old haunted mill, away up in the country." "whee!" bobolink said, sitting bolt upright. "none of the country people would ever go near the place, you see; and when a light happened to be seen in it at night time, they talked about the ghost walking, and all that," jack continued. "huh! that must have been when the boss was paying off his hands," chuckled bobolink. "i always heard that was the time the ghost walked." "in this case the truth was only found out by some accident," jack went on to say, without paying any heed to the interruption. "i think a hunter was overtaken by darkness, having lost himself in the woods. he was a stranger, and had never heard about the haunted mill. so, seeing a light, he went up to ask his way, or if he could get a chance of a bed that night, i forget which. he saw enough to give him a suspicion; and when he did get back to the tavern he was stopping at, he sent word to the government authorities. a raid resulted, and they caught four counterfeiters hard at work." "_four,_ you said, jack!" echoed tom. "yes, just the same number there seems to be here; but then that's only a coincidence, because those others are serving ten-year sentences in the penitentiary. now, you see, i guess the fact of cedar island being said to have a real ghost got me into the idea of thinking about that story i read in the paper. of course it's a silly idea all around." "well, i don't know," said paul, slowly. "you don't mean to say you think it might happen that way here?" demanded jack, seeming to be the only one desirous of "shooting holes" in the proposition he had himself advanced, as bobolink expressed it later on. "it's possible," paul said, simply. "huh! for my part," spoke up bobolink, "i think it's more than that, even. if you asked me straight now, i'd be inclined to say it's probable." "same here," remarked tom betts, eagerly. jack laughed as if pleased. "i declare, i really expected to hear you knock my idea all to flinders," he remarked. "but what under the sun could they be carrying in that big box?" asked tom betts. "box!" muttered bobolink, frowning, as though the word recalled to his mind a matter that had been puzzling him greatly of late; but he did not think to say anything further on that subject. "well, sometimes machinery comes that way," suggested paul. "if these strange men did turn out to be what jack said, they might be getting a press of some kind up here, to do their printing with. i never saw an outfit, but seems to me they must have such a thing, to make the bogus bills." "that's right," added tom. "i read all about it not long ago. wallace carberry's so interested in everything about books and printing, that he clips all sorts of articles. and this one described a kind of press that had been taken in a raid on some bogus money-makers. yep, it must have been machinery they were lugging off here. whew! just to think of us bein' mixed up in such a business. i wonder, now, if the government ever pays a reward for information about such things." "oh! rats! that's the last thing a scout should bother his head about," said bobolink, scornfully. "he ought to see his duty, and do it. though, of course, if a nice little present happens along afterwards, why, i guess there's no law against a scout acceptin' it; eh, paul?" "certainly not," replied the other, "you've got the idea down pretty fine, bobolink. but let's see if we can guess anything else. then we'd better go back to camp, and start the rest of the fellows thinking about it. perhaps jud or andy or nuthin might dig up something that never occurred to any of us." but although they talked it over for some little time they did not seem able to conjure up any new idea; everything advanced proved to hinge upon one of the explanations already spoken of. and in the end they were forced to admit that they had apparently exhausted the subject. "let's pick up our fish, and stroll back, fellows," proposed paul, finally. "lucky to have any fish, with that hog around," remarked bobolink. "now you're meaning the wild man, i take it?" said jack. "no other; the fellow that drops in on you when you ain't expectin' company, and just swipes your string of fish like he did jud's. i might 'a thought jud was giving us a yarn to explain why he didn't have anything to show for his morning's work; but both little billie and gusty saw the same thing. say, that's another link we got to straighten out. what's a crazy man doing up here; and is he in the same bunch that made these tracks?" "that's something we don't know," admitted paul. "but we mean to find out," asserted bobolink, with a determined snapping of his jaws. "perhaps so--anyhow, we'll make a brave try for it," paul declared. "he wasn't one of these four, that's flat," said tom betts. "we all saw what a big foot the wild man had; and besides, he goes without shoes." "glad to see you noticed all that," commented paul, who always felt pleased when any of the troop exhibited powers of observation, since it proved that the lessons he was endeavoring to impress upon their minds had taken root. they turned their faces toward the camp, and paul made sure to pick up the fish he and jack had caught. "with what we'e already cleaned, they'll make a fine mess for the crowd," he remarked, pointing out an unusually big fellow that had given him all the fun he wanted, before consenting to be dragged ashore. "i notice that you both kill your fish as you get 'em," remarked tom. "i wouldn't think of doing anything else," replied jack. "it only takes a smart rap with a club on the head to end their sufferings. i'd hate to think of even a fish dying by inches, and flapping all over the boat or the ground, as it gasps its life away. that's one of the things scouts are taught--to be humane sportsmen, giving the game a chance, whether fish, flesh or fowl, and not inflicting any unnecessary suffering." "wonder if anything's happened in camp since we came away; because bobolink and i have been gone nearly an hour," remarked tom betts, to change the subject; for his conscience reproved him with regard to the matter jack was speaking about. "what makes you think that?" asked paul, suspiciously. "oh! nothing; only things seem to be on the jump with us right now; and a fellow can't turn around without bumping into a wild man, or some bogus money-makers, it seems. p'raps the ghost'll show up next. listen! wasn't that somebody trying to blow your bugle, bobolink, that you left hung up in the tent?" "it sure was, for a fact. let's start on a run, fellows. mebbe they've gone and grabbed that wild man! p'raps he was bent on carryin' off the whole outfit this time. you never can tell what a crazy man'll do next; that's the hard part of being a keeper in a queer house, where they keep a lot of that kind; anyhow a man told me that once who'd been there. but listen to that scout trying to sound the recall, would you? whoop her up, boys; there's _something_ happened, as sure as you live!" chapter xv ordered off it was about four o'clock in the afternoon of this, the first day of their intended stay on cedar island, when paul and his three comrades came running around the bend of the shore above the camp, and saw some of the scouts beckoning wildly to them. "they've gone and grabbed him, sure as shooting!" gasped bobolink, exultantly. but jack and paul noted that while there teemed to be a cluster of the boys no strange form could be seen among them. in fact, they appeared to be greatly excited over something jud elderkin was holding. and in this manner then did the quartette reach the camp. "where is he; got him tied up good and hard?" demanded bobolink, speaking with difficulty, from lack of breath. nobody paid the slightest attention to what he was saying; and so bobolink, happening to notice that it was curly baxter who had been taking liberties with his precious bugle, quietly possessed himself of it, and examined it carefully, to make sure that it had not been dented. "take a look at this, paul," said jud, as he held out the fluttering piece of paper that had evidently caused all the excitement. written upon this the scout master saw only a few words, but they possessed considerable significance, when viewed in the light of the strange happenings of the recent past. "_leave this island at once_!" just five words in all. whoever wrote that order must be a man who did not believe in wasting anything. there was no penalty attached, and they were at liberty to believe anything they chose; just the plain command to get out, and somehow it seemed more impressive because of its brevity. paul looked at jack, and then around at the anxious faces of the other scouts. he saw only blank ignorance there. nobody could imagine what this strange order meant. the island might have an owner, but at the best it was only a worthless bit of property, and their camping on its shore for a week could not be considered in the light of trespass. "where did you get this, jud?" asked the scout master. "why, old dan tucker brought it to me," replied the leader of the gray fox patrol, promptly. "and where did _you_ find it, dan?" continued paul, turning on the scout in question, who seemed only too willing to tell all he knew--which, it turned out, was precious little at best. "why, you see, i had a dispute with nuthin about the number of hams fetched on the trip. he vowed there was two, and i said three, countin' the one we'd cut into last night. so to prove it, i just happened to step into the tent where we've got some of the grub piled up. it was three, all right, just as i said. but i found this paper pinned to one of the whole hams, which, you know, are sewed up in covers right from the packers. i couldn't make out what it meant. first i thought nuthin was playin' a joke on me; but he denied it. so i took the paper to jud, seein' that you were away, paul." "it was pinned to one of the hams, was it?" asked the scout master, frowning. "sure, and the pin's still stickin' in it," answered dan, positively. paul looked around. "i want to settle one thing right at the start, before we bother any more about this matter," he remarked. "did any one of you write this, or have you ever seen it before dan brought it to jud?" "he showed it to me," exclaimed nuthin; "but it was the first time i ever glimpsed that paper or writin', paul, i give you my word." "if anybody else has seen it before, i want him to hold up his hand," continued the scout master, knowing how prone boys are to play pranks. the boys glanced at each other; but not a single hand went up. "well, that settles one thing, then," declared paul. "this note came from some one not belonging to our camp. he must have crawled into the tent from the rear, taking advantage of our being busy. yes, there's a bunch of scrub close enough to give him more or less shelter, if he crawled on all fours. let's see if one or two of the tent pins haven't been drawn up." followed by the rest, paul strode over to the tent where a quantity of the provisions were kept. entering this, he quickly saw that it was exactly as he had suggested. three of the tent pins, which the boys had pounded down with the camp axe, had been pulled up, and this slack allowed the intruder to crawl under the now loose canvas. "i can see the place he shuffled along, and where his toes dug into the earth," declared jack, as he bent over. "we'll try and follow it up presently, and see where he got on his feet to move off," paul remarked. "i'd like to find out whether his shoes make a mark anything like some of those we were looking at up the shore, jack." "whew!" exclaimed bobolink, who was again deeply interested in what was going on, since he had found his precious bugle unharmed. "let's look at that paper again," resumed paul. "the writing was done with a fountain pen, i should say. that seems to tell that the owner was no common hobo. and the writing is as clear as the print in our copybooks at school. the man who did that was a penman, believe me. 'leave this island at once!' just like that, short and crisp. not a threat about what will happen if we don't, you see; we're expected to just imagine all sorts of terrible things, unless we skip out right away. one thing sure, jud, your wild man never wrote that note, or even pinned it on our ham, because the crawler wore shoes." "that's right," muttered jud, his face betraying the admiration he felt for the scout master who knew so well how to patch things together, so that they seemed to be almost as plain as print. "now, the rest of you just stay around while i take jack and bobolink with me along this trail. we want to settle one thing, and that'll come when we hit the place where this party got up on his feet to move off." so saying, paul himself got down and deliberately crawled under the canvas the same way the trespasser had. jack and bobolink hastened to follow his example, only too well pleased to be selected to accompany the leader. it was no great task to follow the marks made by the crawling man. his toes had dug into the soil, going and coming, for apparently he had used the same trail both ways. "here we are, boys; now, take a look!" said paul, presently. they were by this time in the midst of the timber with which this end of the island was covered. glimpses of the tents could be seen between the trees; but any intruder might feel himself reasonably justified in rising to his full height when he had made a point so well screened from inquisitive eyes. this man had done so, at any rate. the plain print of his shoes was visible in a number of places. both jack and bobolink gave utterance to exclamations as soon as they saw these. "one of the four, that's dead sure!" the former declared, positively. "i'll be badgered if it ain't!" muttered bobolink, staring at the tracks. "so you see, we've settled one thing right at the start," said paul. "that's what we have," observed bobolink. "it's those fellows who carried the heavy load from the rowboat, after landin' on the island, after the rain storm, that want our room more'n our company. the nerve of that bunch to tell us to clear out, when chances are we've got just as much right here as they have--p'raps a heap sight more." "that doesn't sound much like you wanted to make a change of base, bobolink?" remarked paul, smiling. "no more do i," quickly replied the other. "i'm not used to bein' ordered around as if i was a slave. what if there are four of them, aren't eighteen husky scouts equal to such a crowd? no, siree, if you left it to me, i'd say stick it out till the last horn blows. give 'em the defi right from the shoulder. tell 'em to go hang, for all we care. we c'n take care of ourselves, mebbe; and mind our own business in the bargain." "but it's something else that makes you want to stay?" paul suggested. "how well you know my cut, paul," declared the other. "you reckon i never can stand a mystery. it gets on my nerves, keeps me awake nights, and plays hob with my think-box all the time. now, there was those boxes--but i guess i'll try and forget all about that matter now, because we've got a sure enough puzzle to solve right on our hands. who are these four men; what are they hiding on cedar island for; why should they want to chase us away if they weren't afraid we'd find out _somethin_' they're a-doin' here, that ain't just accordin' to the law?" "you've got it pretty straight, bobolink," admitted paul. "but since we've learned all we wanted to find out, suppose we go back to the rest of the boys. we must talk this thing over, and decide what's to be done." "do you mean about skipping out, paul?" bobolink exclaimed. "oh! i hope now, you won't do anything like that. i'd feel dreadfully mean to sneak away. always did hate to see a cur dog do that, with his tail between his legs." "still, it might seem best to leave here by dark," said paul. something in his manner gave jack a clue as to the meaning back of these words. he knew the scout master better than did any other fellow in the troop, and was accustomed to reading his motives in his look or manner. "i take it that means we might _pretend_ to clear out, and come back under cover of the night, to make another camp; eh, paul?" jack now remarked, insinuatingly. "that was what i had in mind," admitted the other; "but of course it'll be up to the boys to settle such a question. i believe in every fellow having a voice in things that have to do with the general business of the camp. but majority rules when once the vote is taken--stay, or go for good." "glad to hear you say so," ventured bobolink. "because here's three votes that will be cast for sticking it out; and if i know anything about jud and nuthin and bluff, together with several more, the majority will want to stick. but i mean to give them a hint that we think that way. several weak-kneed brothers are always ready to vote the way the leaders do. when the scout master takes snuff they start to sneezing right away." "and for that very reason, bobolink, i don't want you to say a word in advance to any of the fellows. when we have a vote, it should be the free opinion of every scout, without his being influenced by another. but what do you think of the idea, jack?" "i think it's just great," answered his chum. "and by the way, if we should conclude to come back to the island again in the night, i know the finest kind of a place where we could hide the motorboats." "where is that?" asked the scout master, quickly. "you haven't been around on the side of the island where the shore curves into a little bay, like. the trees grow so close that their branches overhang the water. if the boats were left in there, and some green stuff drawn around them, i don't believe they'd ever be noticed, unless some one was hunting every foot of the island over for them." "yes, i think i know where you mean," said paul. "i wasn't down by the little inlet you speak of; but back on the shore there's a dandy place among the rocks and trees, where we could pitch a new camp, and keep pretty well hidden, unless we happened to make a lot of noise, which we won't do if we can help it but everything depends on how the boys look at it." "anyhow," said bobolink, resolutely; "i feel that we ought to put it up to them that way; tell 'em how easy it will be to screen the boats, and have a hidden camp. you'll let me tell about that, paul, i hope, even if i mustn't say you mean to vote to come back?" "i suppose that would be fair enough, because we ought to hold up our side of the question," the scout master replied, as they drew near the place where the three tents stood, and several groups of chattering scouts could be seen, doubtless earnestly discussing this mysterious thing that had come about; for, of course, tom betts had already told all about the suspicious tracks of the four men who had carried a heavy burden into the brush. they looked eagerly toward the advancing three, as though expecting that paul would now take them fully into his confidence. this he proceeded to do without further delay; and it was worth while observing the various shades of emotion that flitted across the faces of the listeners while the scout master was talking. some seemed alarmed, others disposed to be provoked, while not a few, bobolink noted with secret glee, allowed a frown to mark their foreheads, as though they were growing angry at being so summarily ordered off the island by these unknown men, who did not even have the decency to present their command of dismissal in person. he knew these fellows could be counted on to vote the right way when the question came up as to what they should do. when the entire thing had been explained, so that they all understood it, paul asked for a vote as to whether they clear out altogether, or appear to do so, only to come back again. and, just as the sanguine bobolink had expected, it resulted in thirteen declaring it to be their idea that they should come back, and try to find out what all these queer goings-on meant. when the result of the vote was made known, even the five who had voted to go moved that it be made unanimous. perhaps they came to the conclusion that since a return was decided on it would be safer to be with the rest on the haunted island, than off by themselves in a lone tent on the distant shore, where no assistance could reach them. "well, we'd better have an early supper, then, and get away; or since it is getting dark now, perhaps we'll have to put off the eating part until later," paul suggested. "any old time will do for that," declared bobolink, carelessly, whereupon old dan tucker gave him a look of dismay, and sadly shook his head, as though he did not indorse such a foolish theory at all. so, when the others were carrying things to the boats, and showing considerable nervousness while doing it, old dan managed to fill his pockets with crackers, which he hoped might stave off starvation for a little while at least. acting on the suggestion of jack, the scouts gave all sorts of exhibitions of alarm as they busied themselves taking down the tents, and loading their traps aboard the two motorboats. every now and then one of them would point somewhere up or down the shore, as though he thought he saw signs of the enemy coming, whereupon a knot of the boys would gather, and stare, and then scatter, to work more feverishly than ever. they really enjoyed acting the part, too. it seemed to appeal to their fondness for a joke. and the best of it was, they always fancied that somewhere or other at least one pair of hostile eyes must be observing these signs of panic with satisfaction. just as darkness began to creep over water and island, clouds shutting out the moonlight again, all was pronounced ready. and then the cheery "chug" of the motors sounded, for the boys purposely made all the noise they could, under the impression that it might seem to add to the appearance of a hasty flight. in this manner did the troop of scouts break camp before they had been on cedar island more than twenty-four hours; and, so far as appearances went, deserted the place of the evil name for good and all. chapter xvi under cover of darkness paul had settled it all in his mind as to what their course should be. he drew a mental map of the island, and its surroundings; and also remembered certain conclusions he had previously entertained connected with the depth of water on all sides, between their late camp and the mainland. so the _comfort_ set the pace, which was not very fast; for they wanted darkness to settle fully over the lake, in order that they might move around without being seen from the island. "tell me when the island is out of sight, jud," remarked paul; for some of the time the two boats were side by side, and nothing interfered with a clear view in the rear. "why, it's swallowed up already in the night mist; i can just make out that old cedar that stands on top of the little hill," came jud's reply. "good. then we'll have an easy time slipping back, i reckon," said paul. "going all the way over to the shore; are you?" asked the other. "might as well; though we'll have to feel our way. pretty shallow; ain't it, jud?" for the scout master had set the other to work sounding with one of the setting poles, by dropping it over every little while. "touch bottom every time but seems to be plenty of water. guess this lake ain't near so deep as that other one up by rattlesnake mountain," jud remarked. "oh! it's many times deeper on the other side of the island," observed paul. "i picked out this way across for a good reason." "i suppose you did," jud said, with a sublime confidence that was refreshing. "because, you see," added paul, "when we start back again, we'll have to do without the help of our motors, for, muffle them as we might, they'd make enough noise to betray us." "oh! i see now," declared jud, chuckling. "in place of the motor business we'll use good hard muscle with these setting poles. and so long as we can touch bottom right along, it ain't going to be a very hard job getting back to the island. you don't think it's more'n half a mile; do you, paul?" "not much more, and we can take our time, jud. the one thing above all others we've got to keep in mind is silence. nobody ought to knock a pole against the side of a boat under penalty of being given black marks. and as for talking, it'll have to be in whispers, when at all." "s-s-sounds g-g-good to m-m-me," said bluff, who somehow seemed to have gone back to his old stuttering ways; though it might be the excitement that caused the lapse. nothing more was said on the way over, though doubtless the boys kept up considerable thinking. they were tremendously worked up over the situation. this scheme proposed by the scout leader seemed to appeal to the spirit of adventure which nearly every boy who has red blood in his veins feels to be a part of his nature. there was one among them, however, who was silent because of another reason; for old dan tucker always declared it a very bad and injurious plan to try and converse when one's mouth was crammed full; and crackers, too, being apt to get in the wind-pipe, may do all manner of choking stunts. so he said never a word. they presently could see the other shore looming up, though it was getting very dark, just as though a storm might be threatening to again demoralize them. "getting more shoal, paul," warned the pole heaver. "how much water have you now?" demanded the leader, ready to give the signal for bringing both motorboats to a stop, when it seemed necessary. "eight feet, last time; now it's about seven, short," announced jud. "keep on sounding, and when it gets down to three, let me know," ordered paul. they were creeping along at a snail's pace now, so even should either boat strike mud bottom, which jud had declared it to be, no particular damage would result. the shore was very close, and still jud admitted that there was plenty of water. "keeps up in great shape, commodore," he remarked, "reckon we could go ashore here if we felt that way." "which we don't," declared gusty bellows, in a low tone. and not a single voice was raised in favor of such a proceeding; if there were any timid souls present, they failed to exhibit their weakness, either through fear of boyish ridicule, or some other reason. then paul shut off power, and when he no longer heard the sound of the _comfort's_ exhaust, jack followed suit. "we'll hang out here for half an hour, and then head back," explained paul. "the outlet isn't far away from here; is it?" joe clausin asked. "not very far--on the right," paul replied. "i had that in mind when choosing to come this way. you see, if we were intending to only go ashore, they'd expect to see a fire burning somewhere. as it is, they'll be sure to think we've dropped down into the radway, preferring to risk all sorts of danger from the rocks and snags there, rather than stay here another night." "makes me think of napoleon's retreat from moscow," remarked nat smith in the other motorboat. "oh! come off, will you?" ridiculed bobolink. "napoleon was a good one, but not in the same class with _us_. he never came back, like we're going to do. this retreat is only a fine piece of strategy, remember, while his was in deadly earnest." they talked in low tones that were cousins to whispers, and certainly could not be heard half way over to the mysterious island, even though water does make the finest conductor of sound possible, as every boy knows. finally, when about half an hour had gone, paul said it was time to make a fresh start. he had thought it all out, and while taking one pole himself, asked the expert, jud, to handle the other in their boat. jack and tom betts were to look after those in the _speedwell_; for the scout master knew that tom could be very careful, given a job that required caution. they took their time, and by degrees paul led the way across the shallow part of the lake. bobolink had aptly described their movement, when he said it reminded him of the words in the song: "he came right in, and turned around and walked right out again." now it was so dark that most of the scouts found themselves confused as to their bearings, the minute they lost sight of the trees along the shore. some wondered how paul was going to go straight back over their recent course, when he did not have even the stars to guide him. but then, there were many other things he did have, one of which was the slight breeze that blew in his face, and which had been directly behind them at the time they left the island. slowly and laboriously, in comparison with their other trip, the scouts crossed the stretch of water. and when finally those who were so eagerly watching out for that cedar on the top of the little elevation in the middle of the island whispered to paul that it was dead ahead, they realized with wonder that the pilot had led them in a direct line back over their course. now they altered the line of advance a little. this was in order to approach the island about the place where the little bay extended into its side, as described by jack. and paul allowed the other to take the lead, since jack would be more familiar with the locality than he himself might feel. noiselessly did the two boats enter that miniature bay, and glide along until close to the bank, where the overhanging trees afforded the protection they wanted, in order to conceal the craft. landing was next in order, and then all their things must again be taken ashore, from tents and blankets, to cooking kettles and eatables. by now the scouts had reduced many of these things to a system. every boy knew just what was expected of him; and presently there was a procession of burden bearers carrying things into the brush along a certain trail, once in a while perhaps stumbling a little, but keeping strict silence. they seemed to enjoy it hugely, too. their nerves tingled while carrying out this part of the programme--at least, bobolink said he had such a feeling, and doubtless several more were in the same condition. of course there were those who trembled with anticipation of some sudden alarm. and then again, others might be beginning to think they would soon nearly "cave away" with the empty feeling they had; that was what old dan tucker confided in a whisper to joe clausin, resting firm in the belief that none of the others knew about the pocket full of crackers, that he called "life preservers"--which, alas, were all gone now, to the last crumb. paul led the line and picked out the easiest method of reaching the place he had selected for the new camp among the rocks and trees. it was in a depression, too, the others noticed, when he told them to drop their bundles. that would enable them to have a little fire, since it could not be seen as it would be if they were on a level, or an elevation. and really, a fire was necessary, if paul meant they should have any supper at all. "as we brought about all we need, there's no use of making another trip to the boats," paul remarked in a low tone; from which the others judged that conversation was not going to be entirely cut out, only they must not elevate their voices above a certain pitch, so long as things were as quiet as at present. now began the task of getting the three tents in position again. and well had the scouts learned their lesson in this particular; some of them even going so far as to declare that they could do the job with their eyes blindfolded, so familiar were they with every part of the operation. "like learning type-writin' by touch in school," bobolink had said. after all the tents had been raised, and the blankets placed inside, paul gave permission for a small cooking fire to be made. to some boys a fire is always a fire, no matter what its intended use; but the scout who has camped out soon gets to know that there is a vast difference between a camp fire, for instance, and one meant only for getting meals over. the former may be composed of great logs and branches that send up a cheery and brilliant blaze; but which is next to useless when the cook wants to get close in, and attend to his various kettles and frying pans. sometimes a hole is scooped out of the ground, and the fire for cooking made in that, especially when on level ground, and danger exists of hostile eyes discovering the blaze, however small. as a rule, however, such a fire is made about after this fashion: two logs may be used, if they have flat surfaces, having been more or less squared off; but when stones can be procured they are to be preferred. two sides are fashioned out of flat stones, somewhat in the shape of the letter v, only not having the line quite so pronounced. thus a coffeepot will rest snugly over the smaller end, while the big frying pan cozily covers the larger. the fire need only be small, but when the cooking commences, there should be for the most part red embers in the fireplace, capable of sending up great heat, with but a minimum of blaze. and there a cook can work in comfort, without dodging back every time a fierce blaze darts toward him, threatening to singe his eyebrows, and shorten his crop of hair. jud knew just how to make such a fire, and as they would need several, in order to cook for such a host, some of the other boys busied themselves in copying what he did. they had seen him make such a stone fireplace before, any way, and some of them had practiced the art in private, being desirous of knowing how to do many of the things the leaders were so proficient in. soon they had more light, when jud got his fire started; and it was then that the boys realized just how fitting that spot was for a hidden camp. their tents could not be seen thirty feet away; and as for the small amount of light made by the three cooking fires, little danger of it being noticed, unless some one were close by, and actually stumbled on the spot. in fact, the greatest chance they had of being discovered, as paul well knew, did not come from any sense of sight or hearing, but that of smell. should the odors from their supper chance to be carried across the island, and in the direction of where these men were staying, they might begin to suspect something was wrong, and start an investigation that would lead to the discovery of the new camp. but paul had also noticed that the night breeze was doing them another good service; it had helped him find his way back to the island through the darkness resting on the big lake; and now, blowing toward the distant shore, the odors of cooking coffee, and frying bass would be taken entirely away. and anyhow, there were eighteen half-starved scouts who had to be fed, come what might. so the cooking went on apace, and in due time supper was announced as ready. at which more than a few of the waiting lads heaved sighs of satisfaction, and old dan tucker, as usual, managed to be the first to sit down. chapter xvii pitching tents in the "sink" "this thing is giving us lots of good practice at making camp, and that's something," bobolink remarked while he ate, always taking care to keep his voice down to a low pitch, so it would not carry far on the night air; though for that matter the wind had increased by now and was making quite some noise through the tops of the trees around them. "i'd like to see anybody put up tents faster and better than we did right here," declared frank savage; who had by now about recovered from the feeling of sickness which came so near keeping him at home, when the expedition was formed. "and as for fires, these couldn't be beat," observed spider sexton, as he began to catch glimpses of the bottom of his tin platter, after making away with some of the food that had been piled high on it by the cook of his mess. "and talk about the grub--it just takes the cake," admitted old dan tucker; though no one seemed to pay the least attention to what he thought, for they knew him of old, and that the present meal was always the "best he had ever eaten, barring none." of course it was only natural that while the scouts were enjoying their meal in this fashion, many looks betrayed an uneasiness on the part of some among their number. possibly they were wondering whether it could be that hostile eyes were fixed upon them then and there, and if so, what those strange, unknown men, who seemed to want to rule the island, would do when they discovered that the scouts had disobeyed their order to leave. would they resort to violence? it would not be an easy task to banish a dozen and a half lively boys, they were thinking. paul had made up his mind with regard to certain things that must be done. first of all, they ought to get their heads together, and decide on a plan. should they make any sort of attempt that night to explore the island? he owned a splendid little hand electric torch, into which he had slipped a fresh battery before starting out on the voyage along the two rivers; and this might prove very useful in searching dark and gloomy parts of the island. but on the whole, it seemed so foolish to think of such a thing, paul wanted the rest to settle the matter. so, still cautioning them to speak only in whispers at the most, he placed the whole matter before them; much as might the chairman of a meeting, after which he asked in so many words: "you've heard all i know about it; now, what is your pleasure, fellows?" "so far as i'm concerned," said bobolink, always the first to speak; "i'm willing to do anything the rest say, or go wherever they want to head; but to be honest, boys, i'd think we were off our base if we went prowling around this queer old island at night time. there are a heap of things about it that some people don't want us to know, it seems; and we ought to take daylight to spear such facts." others were of the same opinion; and when paul put the vote, it was overwhelmingly the sentiment of the meeting that they simply take things as easy as they could until dawn came, and then, with fourteen hours of light ahead, do all the exploring they liked. that settled it, since there could be no going behind the returns when a majority favored any move. accordingly, they made preparations for passing the night as the conditions best allowed. "of course, we must have sentries posted to keep watch?" remarked jack. "all through the livelong night. they will have to be changed every hour; and four can be on guard at a time. that'll give about two turns to every scout, with a chance to get four hours sleep between times on duty." and having said his, paul, as the acting scout master, proceeded to assign each one to his post number. there was no confusion. they had practiced this same movement many a time, and now that it was to be carried out, the boys profited by their experience. it could be seen that there was a condition of almost feverish excitement under the surface, try as they might to conceal the fact by an appearance of coolness. a real peril seemed to be hovering over them, since they had chosen to disobey the mandate of the unknown who seemed to claim the island as his private property. and if they were discovered during the night, there would be no telling what might happen. at the same time the boys were enjoying the novel experience. it seemed to give them a peculiar thrill, not unlike that of a daring skater who shoots boldly over thin, new ice, that crackles under him, and bends in a dreadful way, but does not break, because his passage has been too swift. in the morning paul would pick out several of them, as he thought best; and with this exploring party set out to learn what the island contained. meanwhile they would rest quietly in that rocky retreat, in the hope that their return had not been noted by any observing eye, and that their presence on the island was utterly unknown. the sentries had been selected, and every boy knew just when his turn to take a post would come around. those who were ready to lie down and get some rest were expected to arouse their successors, so that the thing was calculated to run along as smoothly as though on a greased track. if anything out of the ordinary came to pass, and there was time to arouse the scout master, paul wanted it done. he could not remain awake himself more than any one of the others, much as he might wish to be on the job all the time; but that need not prevent his keeping in touch with whatever happened. paul still had his shotgun, and had of course made sure to bring it from the motorboat when he led his column of burden-bearers trailing through the timber and rocks to that little sink in which the new camp had been pitched. it had served him often and well, and he was accustomed to placing the utmost confidence in the trusty little weapon. but he hoped he would find no occasion to use it now, and against human beings. only as the very last resort would he turn to this. still, there are times when the presence of an empty gun has done wonders; since imagination invests it with all the attributes of a loaded weapon. and that was one of the many reasons why paul kept the double-barreled gun close to him, even when he crept into the tent to which he was assigned, and lay down on his blanket to try and get a little sleep. some of the other boys whispered for a while, as they lay with their heads close together; but they were too sleepy to keep this up for long; so that one by one they dropped off, until from their regular breathing it was easy to guess that all had surrendered to the heavy hand of sleep. those on guard duty were not supposed to move about very much. they had been posted at what might be called the four corners of the camp. here they could, between them, about cover all the space around the sink, for their positions were on the more elevated ground. and as the clouds were breaking at the time paul crawled under the tent, he felt pretty sure that before long they would have the assistance of the moon, now more than half full, and which would not set until after midnight. those who were the first on duty fulfilled their part of the programme faithfully. after standing out their "spell," they proceeded to quietly awaken those who were scheduled to follow after them. each fellow knew who his successor was, and it had been made a part of his duty to see that this scout was not only awakened, but on the job; after which he himself could crawl in under his blanket, and take it easy until his second turn came, hours later. thus bobolink was one of the second watch. in turn he would have the pleasure of arousing the commander, and seeing that paul took up his duty; for in laying out the schedule paul had not spared himself in the least. bobolink was an imaginative boy. he could see many things that others were apt to pass by without discovering anything out of the ordinary. it was a weakness which bobolink had to guard against; lest he discover things that had no foundation in fact. he sat there, listening and looking, for a long time. the music of the breeze in the tree-tops made him a little nervous at first; but presently he seemed to get more accustomed to the sounds, and then they made him drowsy, so that he had to take himself sharply to task more than once because his eyes found it so easy to shut. wishing to have something to think about, so as to keep his wits aroused, bobolink began to try and figure out just where his fellow sentinels were located and imagine what they were doing. could they be struggling, as he was, to keep awake, one of the hardest things a boy can battle with? what was that? surely something moved out yonder among the scrub! bobolink sat straight up. he was no longer sleepy. this thing seemed to have made his eyes fly wide open; and with his heart pumping at a tremendous rate, sending the hot blood bounding through his veins, surely he was now in no danger of sleeping on his post. he watched the spot from which the sound had seemingly come. the moon penetrated the bushes only faintly, because it was now nearing the western horizon, its journey for the night almost done. strive as bobolink might to see whether any one was crawling along there, he could not for a time make sure. then he detected a movement that must mean something. and at the same time he discovered what seemed to be twin glowworms in the darkness. bobolink had had some little experience in such things, and had read a good deal on the subject. he knew that in the night time the eyes of many wild animals, particularly of the cat tribe, can appear luminous, so that, seen in a certain kind of gloom, they seem to be like yellow globes. and that was what these were. "huh!" said bobolink to himself, after he had watched these queer glowing balls of fire move several times, that proved in his mind they must be the eyes of an animal: "guess i better give paul the high sign, and let him figure out what it is." and with that he started to creep into the camp, leaving his post for the time being unguarded; for with three other sentries on duty bobolink did not imagine there could be any danger in his withdrawing from the line. chapter xviii what lay in the brush "wake up, paul!" bobolink accompanied these whispered words by a gentle shake. he seemed to know instinctively just where the scout master was lying; or else it must have been, that all this had been systematically laid out beforehand; and every fellow had a particular place where he was to curl up in his blanket when not on duty. paul was awake instantly, even though he had been far gone in sleep at the moment that hand touched his arm. "all right, bobolink," he said, in a low tone, so as not to arouse any of the others. "i'm with you. time up?" "not quite, paul; but there's some sort of beast creeping around the camp; and i thought you ought to know." paul sat up at once. "you did the right thing, bobolink," he remarked, quietly. the sentry could hear him groping around, as if for something. presently paul seemed to have found what he sought. of course it was his shotgun. wildcats were to be found in some of the woods not many miles from stanhope. the scouts knew this, because they had experience with these bold pests, who had been attracted by the smell of food in their camp. besides, there were sometimes packs of wild dogs roaming the woods that might need to be taught a lesson, in case they gave the campers any trouble. so paul had been wise to bring that double-barreled gun along. in a pinch it would prove a handy thing to have with them. and no doubt it gave bobolink considerable satisfaction to realize that paul had such a weapon handy. immediately the sentry started to crawl out of the tent again, with paul close at his heels. a head was raised, and one of the supposed sleepers watched the dim figures retreating. it was nuthin, who had chanced to be restless, and was awake at the time bobolink came in to arouse the scout master. he had heard all that passed between them, and of course felt a thrill at the idea of some ferocious wild beast prowling around the tents. hardly had the other pair withdrawn before nuthin started after them. he might be a rather timid boy by nature; but when there was anything going on nuthin could not rest content unless he placed himself in a position where he could see or hear--perhaps both. bobolink led the way back to the post he had been occupying at the time he made his discovery. he hoped those luminous eyes would still be there, because it might not look just right should he be able to show no proof of his story; and boys will take occasion to make all sorts of jeering remarks about a fellow falling asleep on his post, and dreaming wonderful things. so it was with considerable anxiety that the sentry crept along to the very spot which he remembered he had been occupying at the time. considerably to his dismay he could see nothing. there was the patch of brush in which he had discovered those gleaming orbs, and from which had arisen a low, threatening growl when he first moved off; but look as he might bobolink was unable to detect the first sign of a hostile presence. he felt disgusted with himself. luck seemed to be playing him all manner of tricks of late, and nothing went right. there was that affair of the queer boxes which had been bothering him so long; then the mystery of the unknown men who had ordered the scouts to leave the island in such a peremptory fashion, without giving the least reason for their churlishness. and now, here, even this little matter could not work straight. "it's gone, paul!" he felt compelled to mutter, after striving several times to detect some sign, however faint, of those terrible yellow eyes. "just where did you see it, bobolink?" asked the scout master, knowing from his chum's manner how disappointed the sentry must feel that he was thus unable to prove his assertion. "right in that brush yonder; you c'n see it looks darker than anything else," replied bobolink, eagerly; as if hoping that after all paul's eyes might prove better than his own, and pick up the lost glow. "well, it seems to have gone away, then," said the scout master. "i'm afraid so," grumbled bobolink, for all the world as though his whole reputation for veracity depended on his showing the other that he had not been imagining things when he gave his alarm. "what did you see?" continued paul. "two yellow eyes, and say, weren't they just awful, though? but seems like the varmint has side-stepped, and vamoosed. just my luck, hang it! i wanted you to see 'em the worst kind, paul." "a pair of shining eyes, eh? when you moved, did you hear anything, bobolink?" "sure i did. it growled just like our dog does at home, when he's got a bone, and anybody gets too near him," the sentry hastened to explain. "made you think of a dog, did it, and not a cat?" asked paul, quickly. "why, yes, i reckon it did," replied bobolink; "leastways, that's what came into my mind. but then a big cat, a regular bobcat, i take it, could growl that way, if it felt a notion to." "you came straight in to wake me up, of course?" continued paul, wishing to figure on the time that might have elapsed since bobolink left his post. "crawled right in, and we got back here in a jiffy; but you see it was no use when that jinx is on my trail, meanin' to loco everything i do. now, i reckon if it'd been any other feller in the bunch, the critter'd just stood its ground, and i'd be vindicated. but me--i'm hoodooed of late, and can't do a thing straight." "listen!" said paul, a little sharply, as though he had no sympathy with such talk. they strained their hearing for possibly a full minute. then bobolink, who liked to talk, could no longer hold in. "what'd you think you heard, paul?" he whispered. "a little rustling sound just alongside the brush you pointed out," the scout master replied. "but you didn't get it again; did you?" urged the other. "no. but that needn't be proof that something isn't there, and watching us, even if we don't glimpse his eyes," replied paul. "oh!" ejaculated bobolink, with a sudden sense of relief in his voice. "you heard the rustling then; didn't you?" paul demanded. "i sure did, and right over back of the brush it seemed to be. p'raps he's givin' the camp the shake, paul; mebbe he's made up his mind it ain't as healthy a place as he thought, after all." "it couldn't be one of the other sentries moving around, i suppose?" ventured paul, at which his companion gave a low chuckle. "with those glaring yellow eyes? well, hardly, paul. my stars! but if you'd only seen 'em, you'd never say that. and besides, the boys were ordered not to leave their posts, only to wake up the fellow that came after 'em. oh! put it down for me that isn't any of our bunch stirring around." "then i must find out what it is!" said paul, with a ring of determination in his voice. "wow! d'ye mean to rush the beast, paul, and try to knock him over with a charge of number sevens?" demanded bobolink. "i've got something better than that to scare him off," replied paul. "you know we don't want to shoot a gun, if we can help it; because the report would tell the men that we'd come back, and might bring trouble. i've got my little electric hand torch with me, and if i flash that into the face of any wild animal the chances are it'll give him a scare that'll send him off about his business." "oh! i forgot all about that," said bobolink. "it's just the thing, too. how lucky you brought it along, paul." bobolink looked on a good many things as "luck," one way or the other, when of a truth they were really planned ahead. the scout master had realized that such a useful little contrivance would be apt to come in handy on many occasions, when camping out, and had made it a particular point to put the torch in his pack before leaving home. he had it beside him as he slept, but did not consider it wise to press the button when awakened, lest the flash arouse the others who were sleeping in the same tent. bobolink could feel him moving away, and not meaning to be left behind, he started after. bobolink possessed courage, even if he lacked discretion. the possibility of an encounter with this doubtless savage animal did not deter him from following his leader. again they heard that suspicious rustling in the bushes ahead, this time louder than before. and quickly on the heels of this sound came a low, threatening growl that, strangely enough, made bobolink chuckle softly, he was so pleased over having his announcement proven true to the commodore of the motorboat fleet. "look out, paul," he whispered; "he's laying for you in those bushes. better keep your gun handy, and be ready to give him hail columbia!" paul did not answer. he had his gun held in such a way that it could be fired with a second's warning. at the same time his left hand was gripping the little electric torch, with his thumb pressed against the trigger that would connect the battery, and send an intense ray of light wherever he pointed. when he heard another rustle, and a growl even more vicious than before, he judged about the position of the sounds, and pointing the end of the torch straight ahead, pressed the button. as the vivid flash followed paul saw something that looked like a crouching panther staring at the dazzling glow of his torch--a hairy beast that had rather a square head, and a tail that was lashing to and fro, just as he had seen that of a domestic cat move with jerks, when a hostile dog approached too close to suit her ideas of safety. chapter xix laying plans "whee!" that, of course, was bobolink giving expression to his feelings when he too saw the crouching figure of the ugly beast in the pile of brush. he fully expected that paul would now feel it necessary to raise his gun to his shoulder, and fire, on the spur of the moment. contrary to his belief, he found that the scout master did nothing of the sort. instead, paul took a deliberate step forward, straight toward the animal that lay there, staring at the blinding light. "oh i my stars! he's going to scare him off with only that light!" said bobolink, talking to himself; and yet, strange to say, he followed close at the heels of the advancing scout master, clutching his club tightly, and doubtless fully determined that if they were attacked, he would make the stout weapon give a good account of itself. for a brief space it seemed an open question whether the animal would turn tail and slink away, or openly attack the advancing boys. but there was evidently something in that approaching dazzling light, and the presence of human beings behind it, that proved too much for the beast. he gave a sudden turn, and bounded off, vanishing in the denser scrub beyond; and for a short time the listening bobolink could hear the sound of his retreat. "whew i that was the stuff, paul!" cried bobolink. "he just couldn't look you in the eye; could he? that fierce little staring orb was too much for him. but what was it, paul, a panther?" some one laughed back of them, and turning, light in hand, paul saw nuthin. "what ails you, and how did you get here?" demanded bobolink. "heard what you said to paul in the tent, and wanted to see what was up, so i just crawled out," answered the smaller scout, still grinning, as though he had discovered something comical in the adventure. "well, what ails you?" bobolink demanded again, feeling irritated somehow. "panther! well, i guess he hasn't got that wild, yet!" ejaculated nuthin. paul began to understand something about it. "see here, nuthin," he said, sternly; "you know that was a dog, as well as i do; have you ever seen him before? do you know him?" nuthin laughed softly. "guess you fellows must have forgot that old mongrel dog, lion, we used to have," he went on. "well, he disappeared a long time ago, and we never knew what did become of him. there always was a sorter wild streak in the critter. and now it seems that he's found, it nicer to live like a wolf in the woods, than stay at home and be tied to a kennel. because that was lion, i give you my word for it!" "mebbe he smelled you here, and wanted to make up again?" suggested bobolink. "don't you believe it," retorted nuthin. "he never did like me, and my dad wouldn't let me go near his kennel. when he skipped out we all felt glad of it. and to think he'd show up here, of all places! what d'ye reckon he's doin' over here on this island, paul?" "listen. when he got away from you did he have a rope around his neck, with six feet of it trailing on the ground?" paul asked. "did he? not any that i know about. we always kept him fastened with a chain; and when he broke away, it was his collar that busted. i've got it home yet," was the response. "well, that dog had the rope, just as i described. he's been tied up, of late, and broke away," the scout master observed, with conviction in his voice. "then he must have been in the keep of these men who're doin' somethin' queer over here on cedar island, and don't want a parcel of peepin' scouts around; looks that way, don't it, paul?" nuthin inquired. "i was wondering whether it could be that crowd, or the other," paul replied, musingly. "d'ye mean the wild man?" asked bobolink. "it might be," replied paul. "if your old dog, nuthin, has taken to the free life of the woods--gone back to the type of his ancestors, as i've heard of dogs doing many a time--why, you see, he'd just seem to fit in with a wild man who lived about like the savages used to away back." "wonder if he'll come again to bother us?" queried bobolink. "honestly now, i don't think he will," paul made answer. "that little evil eye of the torch threw a scare into him he won't forget in a hurry. i suppose he must have been roaming around, and got a sniff of our cooking. that made him feel hungry, and he was creeping in closer and closer, in hopes of stealing something, when we broke up his game. and now, if it isn't time for me to go on duty, i'll crawl in again, and get a few more winks of sleep." "say, paul, don't you think it'd be about right to leave that little flashlight with me, in case the dog comes around again?" asked bobolink. "i was going to say that very same thing; and when my turn comes you can hand it over again. here you are, bobolink; and don't go to fooling with it, unless you really hear something." "i won't, paul," replied the other. "but chances are, i'd better make the rounds and tell the other fellers about what happened; because they must have seen the flash, and heard us talkin' over here; which will throw 'em into a cold fit, wantin' to know all about it." "a good idea, bobolink," observed the other, as he and nuthin moved toward the tents again. the balance of the night passed without any further alarm. if the wild dog came prowling around again, attracted by the presence of good things to eat, which may have reminded him of other days when he was content to remain chained up in the cypher back yard, and take the leavings from his master's table, he certainly did not betray his presence nor could he muster up enough courage to crawl into the camp, when it was guarded by such a terrible flashing eye. morning arrived in good time, and the boys were on the alert. this novel experience was having its effect on them all. they showed that their sleep could not have been as sound as appearances might indicate, for many had red eyes, which were the cause of considerable comment, and not a little good-natured chaff on the part of those who betrayed no such telltale signs of wakefulness. breakfast was prepared about in the same fashion as the supper had been on the preceding night. fires were carefully lighted, and such fuel chosen, which, in the opinion of the best judges, would be least apt to send up heavy smoke, such as might betray their presence on the island. all these little things were supposed to be a part of their education as scouts and woodsmen. they aroused considerable interest among the boys, many of whom had never bothered their heads before to discover that kinds of wood burned in various ways; that one might give out only a light brown smoke, hard to discern, while another would send up a dense smudge that could not fail to attract the eye of any watcher. paul showed them that when they wanted to signal with smoke, as all scouts are taught to do when learning the wigwag code, they must be careful to select only this latter kind of wood, since the other would not answer the purpose. he had been thinking deeply over the matter, and had about made up his mind as to what course they should pursue. like most of his comrades, paul was averse to being driven away from cedar island by unknown parties, without at least another effort to explore the mysterious place, and making an attempt to discover what sort of business these men were engaged in. that it was something unlawful he was convinced, as much as any of his chums. indeed, everything would seem to point that way. men do not often hide themselves in an unfrequented section of the country, unless they are engaged in some pursuit that will not stand the light of day. at one time paul had even suspected that these men might be some species of game poachers, who wishing to defy the law that protected partridges, and all feather and fur-bearing creatures in the woods, during the summer season, had taken up their dwelling on lonely cedar island. this was in the beginning. on thinking it over, however, he came to the conclusion that there was hardly enough game of all kinds within fifty miles of stanhope to pay several men to spend their time snaring it; and so on this account he had thrown that theory overboard. as they ate their breakfast the boys talked of nothing else but the mystery of the island, and many were the expressions of opinion that they must not think of leaving without doing everything in their power to lift the curtain. they wanted to know who the strange men were who had brought some bulky object across from the mainland in a rowboat; what business they were engaged in there; who the wild man might be, and last of all whether he had any connection with the others. "you see," declared bobolink, in his customary impressive way of talking, "it looks to me as if they had him here to scare meddlers off. who wants to rub up against a wild man? everybody would feel like giving the hairy old fellow a wide berth, believe me. but paul, if you make up a bunch to explore this bally old island, please let me go along." there were others just as anxious and then again some gave no expression to indicate how they felt about it. so the wise scout master, not wishing to have any half-hearted recruits with him on such an errand, observed these signs, and made sure to pick only such as had pleaded for recognition. "you can go along, bobolink," he said, presently; "and i shall need five others in addition. jack, you're one; then there's bluff, tom betts, phil, and andy. jud elderkin will be left in full charge here, and every scout is expected to look to him as the chief while i'm gone. is that all understood, fellows?" everybody looked satisfied--those who had been selected because they wanted to be with the party of exploration and the scouts who would remain behind because they had no particular desire to prowl through that dense undergrowth, looking for what might prove to be a jack-o'-lantern. and as they continued to devour the food that had been cooked over the little fires they exchanged confidences, all sorts of queer theories and plans being suggested. for when eighteen wide awake scouts put their heads together, it can be set down as positive that little remains unsaid after they have debated any subject pro and con. chapter xx the exploring party soon after breakfast was over, paul began to make his arrangements. like a wise general he wanted to have all the details arranged beforehand, so far as he could do so. "i hope you'll take the gun along, paul," remarked bobolink, when those who had been selected to accompany the leader were stowing some crackers and cheese in sundry pockets, so that they might have a little lunch, in case they were delayed longer than seemed probable. "yes, because we're more apt to find need for it than those who stay in camp," the scout master had replied; which fact seemed to give bobolink considerable satisfaction. he had not liked the looks of that big fellow which nuthin claimed to have recognized as his old lion. if they chanced to run across the beast again, it might feel disposed to attack them; and nothing would please bobolink more than to have paul bowl the creature over with a single shot. any dog that did not have the sense to stay at home, and feed at the hands of a kind master, deserved to get the limit, he thought. "it isn't that alone," bobolink had protested, when paul took him to task for showing such a bloodthirsty spirit; "i've been hearing lately that some of the farmers up this way are complainin' about dogs killin' their lambs this last spring. and chances are, this same lion's been one of the pack that did the mischief. once they start in that way, nothin' can cure 'em but cold lead. my father said that right out at table. so you see, when dogs take to runnin' loose, they're just like boys, an' get into bad ways." paul thought this was a pretty good argument. he had himself made up his mind that should they ever meet that animal again, and he showed a disposition to attack any of the scouts, there was only one thing to do. "how about getting into communication with you while you're gone?" asked jud, who was naturally feeling the new responsibilities of his position more or less, and wished to be posted. "it might be found a good thing," replied the scoutmaster; "and we could do it easy enough by flags, if we managed to get to the top of that hill where the lone cedar grows. so all the time we're away, jud, be sure and have a scout posted in a tree, where he can watch that cedar, keeping his flag handy to answer, if he gets the signal. "guess that can be fixed, all right," declared jud. "have him keep his eye out for smoke at the same time," continued paul. "we might want to tell you something, even without getting up to that cedar tree. and in case you felt like sending back an answer, you'd better have the boys collect a lot of that wood i showed you, that makes a black smoke. you know our smoke code, jud; no danger of our failing to make good while you're handling the other end of the line." that made jud smile, and feel like doing everything in his power to satisfy the scout master. a few drops of oil prevents a vast amount of friction. paul knew there are few boys who do not like to be appreciated; and they will do double the amount of work if they feel that they possess the full confidence of the one who has been placed in command over them. when the word was finally given for the little expedition to leave camp, and start into the unknown depths of the island, those who were to remain behind insisted on shaking hands all around, and wishing them the best of luck. bobolink pretended to make light of it, and to laugh at the fellows. "great scott! you'd think we were going away off to hudson's bay, not to come back again for many moons, if ever!" he scoffed. "talk about stanley's farewell to livingstone in the african jungle, why it wasn't in the same class as this. don't you dare try to embrace me, dan tucker. what d'ye think i am, the pretty new girl that's come to town, and who danced with you at our class spread? hands off, now! and don't any of you cry when we're gone. i declare if you aren't turnin' into a lot of old women." so the seven scouts strode away from the hidden camp in the sink, plunging into the heavy growth of timber that covered most of the island. once only did they turn, to wave a goodbye to their watching companions, who flourished their hats in response, but dared not give the cheer that was in their hearts, because paul had enjoined the strictest silence. paul and jack had more than once tried to figure out what cedar island must look like; but at the best it was only guess work. none of them had ever been here before, and so far they had only roamed over a small portion of one end of the island, so that they could not tell even its general shape. that was one of the reasons why paul wanted to climb the little hill on which grew the cedar from which the island must have taken its name. once they gained this point, he fancied they might be able to see all parts of the place, and in this manner get a comprehensive idea as what it was like. they kept pretty well together as they pushed through the brush and timber. paul instructed them to watch constantly on all sides, so that nothing might escape their scrutiny; and as the little band of scouts pushed deeper into the unknown depths of the mysterious island, they felt more than ever a sense of the responsibility that rested upon their shoulders. as one of the boys had remarked before, this was good training. they could look back to other occasions when they had roamed the woods, once in search of a little chap who had been lost; but somehow these incidents lacked the flavor of mystery that surrounded them now. if these men should turn out to be what they already suspected, lawless counterfeiters, would they not be apt to show a revengeful spirit if the persistent boys interfered with their business to any extent? just how far he would be justified in leading his companions on, when there was this element of danger in the affair, was a serious question, which paul had as yet not settled in his mind. he was waiting until something more definite turned up, and when that occurred he expected to be governed by circumstances to a great extent. of course they had frequent little shocks. these came when some small animals rustled the bushes in fleeing before them, or a bird started out of the thick branches of a tree. the boys were keyed up to such a pitch that their nerves were on edge. when a crow, that had been watching their coming with suspicious eye, gave a series of harsh caws, and flapping his wings, took flight, andy caught hold of bluff's sleeve, and gave it a tug. "q-q-quit t-t-that!" exclaimed bluff, in a shrill whisper. "g-g-guess i'm k-k-keyed up enough, without m-m-akin' me j-j-jump out of my s-s-skin!" "arrah but i thought it was that ould dog a-goin' to lape at us, so i did!" muttered the irish lad, shaking his head, and grasping his cudgel more firmly. all of them had been wise enough to arm themselves in some way before starting out. and when seven fairly muscular boys wield that many clubs, that have been tried and found true, they ought to be capable of doing considerable execution. but in truth there were but six of the cudgels, for paul carried his gun only. they had by now cleared quite considerable ground, even though their progress was in anything but a direct line. on account of dense patches of thorn bushes paul found it necessary to make various detours; but then this did not matter to any great extent; for while it added to the length of their journey, at the same time it promised to reveal more of the island to their search. one thing surprised paul. they found the trees so dense that most of the time it was possible to obtain only glimpses of the sky above. fortunately the sun continued to shine. he thought it must be pretty dingy here on a cloudy day. and the more he saw of cedar island the less he wondered that some of the ignorant country people believed it to be haunted. bobolink must have been allowing his mind to run in a similar groove, for presently pushing up alongside paul, he remarked in a whisper: "gee! did you ever see a more spooky place than this is, paul? now, if a fellow _did_ believe in ghosts, which of course i don't, here's where he'd expect to run across some of them. look at that hollow over yonder, would you? there goes a woodchuck dodging back into his hole in the bank. ain't it queer how all these animals ever got across from the mainland to this island? why, seemed like all of half a mile to me." "wait till we get on top of that hill, and perhaps the thing won't seem so queer, after all," replied paul. "i was thinking the same way; and then it struck me that the land might be a whole lot closer to the island on the northern side. why, how do we know but what it's only a narrow strait there?" "i wonder, now," mused bobolink, who always found much food for thought in what information he extracted from the scout master. they kept on for some five minutes longer, under about the same conditions. paul, however, began to believe that they must by now be drawing somewhere near the foot of the little hill that arose near the center of the island, as closely as they could figure from their camp at the southern end. the result of their watchfulness was made apparent when tom betts suddenly declared that he had seen something that looked like a blacksmith's forge just beyond a screen of bushes ahead of them. cautiously advancing, the seven scouts presently found themselves looking upon the exact object tom had mentioned, which proved that his powers of observation were good. it was a forge of some sort, with a bellows attached, and a wind screen, but no shelter over the top; which fact would seem to indicate that it must be in the nature of a field smithy, used for certain purposes to heat or melt metal. there being no sign of life around, paul and his six followers swarmed out of the brush, and surrounded the forge, which was about as unlikely a thing to be run across, away in this forsaken quarter of the country, as anything they could imagine. and as paul examined the portable forge closer he made an interesting discovery. chapter xxi a mystery of the open glade "this has been used since we had that hard rain, fellows," paul observed. some of the others had noticed him handling the ashes that marked where the fire had been. "say, they are not warm, now, are they?" asked phil, looking uneasily around, as if half expecting to see some rough men come swarming out of the bushes. "oh! i didn't mean that," replied the scout master. "but you can see for yourselves that when it rains there's nothing to keep the water from running down over this forge. in that case the ashes would be soaked. if you look again you'll see these are perfectly dry, and have never been wet." several of the scouts picked up some of the ashes, and found that it was exactly as paul stated. they were as dry as powder; and could certainly never have been rained upon. "that means the forge has been used since the storm that helped us get through that muddy canal of jackson's creek; is that what you mean, paul?" asked bobolink. "nothing else," replied the other, still continuing his investigations, as if he hoped to make some further discovery, that might tell them what the field forge was intended for, when these unknown men carried it to this secluded island. "great governor, paul!" bobolink had stooped, and picked something from the ground. this he was now holding in his hand, and staring at it, as though he could hardly believe his eyes. the other scouts crowded around him, and their eyes, too, widened when they discovered what it was. "a quarter of a dollar!" exclaimed jack. "and a shining new one in the bargain," declared tom betts. "what d'ye think of that, now?" said phil. paul reached over, and took possession of the coin. "did you find that, bobolink?" he asked, for sometimes the other was known to play tricks. "i sure did, paul, right like this," and stooping over, bobolink was about to pretend to pick up something when he uttered a gasp. "another one!" he was holding a second coin in his hand, the exact duplicate, so far as they could see, of the first one. "must grow here in flocks!" exclaimed phil; "let's see if we can dig up a whole bunch of 'em, boys!" but although they all started digging with the toes of their shoes, no more shining coins came to light; and it began to look as if bobolink had been fortunate enough to pick up all there were. paul closely examined the two bright quarters. "if those are queer ones then they'd fool me all right, let me tell you!" declared bobolink. "i never saw better in my life," paul admitted. the boys were looking pretty serious by now. it began to seem as though that guess made by one of their number could not have been so wide of the mark as at the time some of them believed. here was pretty strong evidence that these men were engaged in manufacturing spurious coins. ought they to consider they had gone far enough, and give up the exploration of the island, returning home to sound the alarm, and send word to the authorities, so that these men might be trapped as they worked? paul was tempted to consider that his duty lay that way. still, there were some things that puzzled him, and made him hesitate before concluding to follow that idea. why should they keep the forge out here in the open, when some shelter would seem to be the proper thing, if, as the scouts now believed, they were using the fire to smelt metals, and blend them to the proper consistency for the bad coins? that was something that puzzled paul greatly. it caused him to look around in the neighborhood of the forge, in the hope that he might pick up some other clue. the ground was pretty well trampled over, as though a number of men had been walking back and forth many times in their occupation, whatever it could have been. paul also saw a number of indentations in the earth, which made him think some heavy object had rested in that open space. "whatever they brought here," remarked jack, presently, "it looks like they must have used some sort of vehicle to carry it; because these tracks have the appearance of ruts made by wheels." "rubber tires, too," added phil. "i've seen too many of 'em not to know; for my father has a garage." "is that so?" exclaimed bobolink, shaking his head, as if to say that with each discovery the mystery, instead of getting lighter, only grew more dense. "and look how close together they seem to be, would you; a pretty narrow bed for a wagon, don't it seem?" asked tom betts. "but they run off that way," observed bobolink, "and there are so many of the tracks you can hardly tell which are mates. there's paul followin' 'em up; reckon we'd better keep with him, boys. we don't want to get separated." paul soon came to a stop, and was joined by the others. "queer how the marks all seem to knock off about here," he remarked, pointing to the ground. "you can't find one further on. and it isn't that the ground suddenly gets hard, either. this looks the queerest thing of them all. what do they run that thing with wheels up and down here for? anybody know?" but silence was the only answer he received, since every one of the six other scouts seemed to be scratching his head, and wrinkling his forehead, as though deep in thought, yet unable to see light. so they went back to the field forge, to look around again, though their labor was all they had for their pains. "not even another lovely quarter to be picked up where it got spilled when they made 'em here, p'raps by the bushel," grumbled bobolink, scratching the earth with his toe in vain. he had recovered the coins from paul, and jingled them in his pocket; though the envious bluff warned him that they might get him into a peck of trouble, should he be caught by secret service men. "huh! guess you think you c'n scare me into droppin' them," declared bobolink, thrusting out his chin at bluff. "let me know if you see me doin' it; will you? i c'n just see you falling all over yourself, tryin' to grab these dandy coins, if i let 'em slip by me. shoot a ball up another alley, bluff. go hunt a fortune for yourself, and don't want to grab mine. hands off, see?" "do we go back now, paul; or had we better keep on to the hill?" jack asked, as though he knew the other must have been settling this important matter in his mind. "i think as we've come this far, with the hill just ahead of us, it would be a disappointment not to get up to that cedar tree," paul replied; at which every one of the other scouts nodded his head. "w-w-want to s-s-see what the old p-p-place l-l-looks like," remarked bluff, in his positive way. "and there's no use in our staying around here any longer, either, i should think," ventured phil. "how do we know but what some of the men may just happen to butt in on us, while we're looking their old forge over? and if they did, i just guess they'd make things hum for us. so i say, into the woods again for me--the sooner the better." "i hope we're doing the right thing by keeping on," paul observed, looking at his companions in a way they took as an invitation to back him up. "who's got a better right to go where we feel like?" demanded bobolink. "honest men wouldn't have any kick coming, just because a troop of boy scouts happened to camp on their island; and it only goes to show they're doing something shady, that's what. i say go on," phil gave as his opinion. jack, andy, bluff and tom were quick to declare themselves opposed to any change of plan, at least, until after they had reached their goal, which was the foot of the cedar on top of the hill. this decision seemed to give paul more heart, and when they left the open space he cast a last glance back at it, as though still puzzled. the trees grew even more dense as they drew nearer the foot of that peculiar rise in the ground which went to make up what they called a hill. indeed, the boys were astonished to find such an almost impenetrable jungle. "isn't that some sort of shack you can see over yonder?" asked phil, presently. as the rest looked, they agreed that it looked like a rude shelter, made out of branches, and some boards fastened together in a crude way. there was no sign of life about the place, and after making sure of this the scouts grew bold enough to advance upon it from what seemed to be the rear, though this could be settled only by the fact that the entrance to the rustic hut appeared to be on the other side. creeping noiselessly up until they were alongside the shelter, the scouts set about finding loopholes through which they might obtain a glimpse of what lay on the other side of those frail walls. then one by one they drew back, and the looks they cast at each other indicated that what they had seen was not a pleasant sight. chapter xxii the wigwag message the other side of the rough shack was partly open, so that considerable light managed to gain admittance. this had enabled the scouts to see a figure lying on some old blankets, together with the skins of several animals. it was without doubt the wild man who had given some of their troop such a bad scare when he turned up near the camp soon after their arrival on the island. he seemed to be sound asleep, and none of them were at all anxious to make any sound calculated to arouse him. indeed, more than one put a finger to his lips to indicate that they were sealed, as he turned and looked anxiously at his comrades. paul made motions to let them know it would be just as well if they quit the vicinity of that queer shack, where the crazy man, as they now deemed him, had his home. a few minutes later, when they had put enough distance between themselves and the rude shelter to permit conversation, bobolink could no longer keep his opinions to himself. "he was a jim-dandy, all right, and a genuine wild man of the woods!" he remarked. "what are the circus fellows thinkin' of, to let such a fine chance slip by to get a real 'what-is-it,' fresh from the jungles of borneo, half man, and the rest gorilla?" "and he had nuthin's dog, after all," observed paul, quietly. "what makes you say that, paul?" asked jack. "because, in the first place, i saw a lot of bones, picked as clean as a whistle, lying on the ground over in a corner. then there was a lair that looked as if an animal slept in it. and if that wasn't enough, i noticed a piece of broken rope fastened to a stake, close by that corner. you remember i said the dog was dragging a piece of rope around with him, when he came creeping up near our camp last night? he broke away, all right; and i guess the wild man will be minus his dog after this." "well, that's one thing settled," asserted phil "we know now, for sure, there _is_ a wild man up here; and some of the officers will have to come and capture him. my father is one of the county freeholders, and he's overseer of the poor in the bargain; so i suppose it'll be up to him to carry out the job. they can't afford to have people say there's a crazy wild man at large, in our district, you see." "did any of you notice that there was a rude sort of table in the shack?" asked paul, as they kept on moving forward, wondering if a third discovery might be made at any minute. "well, now, that's a fact," replied bobolink. "i did see that, but somehow didn't think it queer at the time, not enough to mention it, anyhow. but come to think of it, it was kind of out of the way in the shack of a wild man, eh?" "there was something on the table that would seem stranger, if you'd noticed it. i saw a battered old coffeepot there!" observed paul, smiling grimly. "what?" ejaculated bobolink. "a wild man liking coffee! where d'ye suppose he gets the roasted bean? it don't grow on the bushes up here; and he sure don't look as if he had the cash to buy it. oh! p'raps they use him to pass some of this bogus coin they make! mebbe he goes to towns, and buys their supplies, all the time they're workin' like beavers up here, makin' the stuff." "i don't just agree with you there, bobolink," said paul. "in the first place, as phil will tell you, if such a scarecrow ever came into stanhope, or any other town in the country, the officers would be sure to arrest him, and examine him to see if he oughtn't to be shut up in the asylum. if he got the old pot and the coffee to go with it from these men, then it was in the nature of a bribe not to interfere with their business, as they wanted to stay here on his island." "great brain, paul; you seem to hit the right idea every time. and chances are, that's just what happened," bobolink remarked. "that dog didn't come back," observed tom betts. "and therefore he's still loose," added phil, uneasily. "hope we don't run across the beggar again; but if we should, remember paul, the country expects you to do your duty. you must bag him, no matter what noise you have to make doing it" "leave that to me," remarked the scout master. "now that we know pretty well how the land lies, and whose dog it is, perhaps i won't be so squeamish about shooting the beast if the chance comes along." "here's the foot of the rise," jack broke in. "and the trees grow more thin as the ground ascends, you notice," paul went on. he called their attention to all such things, because he was acting as scout master of the troop, and it seemed to him that he should not allow any chance to pass whereby he might enlarge the horizon of scout lore of the lads under him. "then it strikes me that we ought to be a bit careful not to show ourselves too plain, as we go up," jack suggested. "you're right," added bobolink. "for all we know, these fellows may have a lookout in a tree, as well as we have, and he'd see us if we got careless. that means we must dodge along, taking advantage of every sort of shelter that crops up. great fun, boys, and for one i'm just tickled to death over the chance to prove that we learned our little lesson o. k." all were presently stooping at one moment, where the bushes grew sparse; crawling in among some sheltering rocks at another, and even getting down to wriggle along like so many snakes, when not even so much as a bush offered a means of hiding from observation, in case hostile eyes happened to be turned upwards toward the hilltop at the foot of the lone cedar. it was not a great distance to cover, and before long they found themselves close to their goal. already could they see over the southern side of the island; and after they gained the cedar it would probably be easy to also survey the northern half, the part which doubtless held more of interest to them than any other, since they had reason to believe that the mysterious dwellers on the isle were somewhere there. "five more minutes will do it," remarked paul, when they had gathered in a shallow depression which afforded shelter until they caught their breath again for another climb. paul was looking hard at something far beyond the lake. bobolink, of course, being attracted by his scrutiny, also allowed his gaze to wander in that quarter; but all he saw was what he took to be a buzzard, almost out of sight--a dim speck in the heavens, and about to pass out of sight altogether where clouds hovered above the southern horizon. "i c'n see about where our camp is," phil was saying, "and i think i know which tree the signal corps is stationed in. anyhow, i seem to glimpse something white moving among the green leaves, which, i take it, is a flag being held ready to wave at us." "i reckon paul will soon let 'em know we're still on the map," observed bobolink. "but won't they be s'prised when they learn that we saw the terrible wild man in his own den; and ran across the plant where those rascals make their bogus coin, that looks as bright and good as any uncle sam stamps out?" just then the leader gave the signal for another advance, and the six scouts who followed set about completing the last leg of the climb. they finally found themselves at the roots of the cedar tree that crowned the elevation, and which proved of a size far beyond what any of the scouts had imagined. "well, here we are at last," said phil, breathing hard after his exertions. "and," added bobolink, also badly winded, though he would chatter; "now to see paul get one of the other fellows on the line, to wig his wag at us, or do something that sounds that way. there he goes at it. and looky there, they've been watching us climb, i reckon, because almost before paul made the first sign, that other fellow began sendin'." they watched the fluttering red flag with the white centre. some of them had taken more or less interest in sending and receiving messages; but the boy in the tree proved too fast for any of them to follow. they suspected that it was jud elderkin himself; for outside of paul and jack, he was the best hand at that sort of thing. "my stars! he keeps right along doing it; don't he?" muttered bobolink. "must be some message, too, believe me," added phil. "n-n-now, what d'ye s-s-suppose has happened at c-c-camp since we q-q-quit?" remarked bluff, anxiously waiting for the message to be translated. not once did paul break in on the sending of the message. he sat there, close to the base of the big cedar which sheltered his back from the north side of the island; and seemed to be wholly engrossed in transcribing the various signs of the flag code. they could not see the boy in the branches of the tree; but from their elevated position the white and red flag was in plain view. up and down, and crosswise, it continued to write its message, that was doubtless like printed letters to paul and jack, while unintelligible to those who had never taken lessons in wigwagging. finally came the well known sign that the message was done; and that the sender awaited the wishes of the party with whom he was in communication. paul turned upon his comrades. they saw that the frown had come back again to his usually smooth forehead, as though he had learned something to add to the perplexities of the problem they were trying so diligently to solve. "it's jud," he said, simply, "and he's just sent an astonishing message. this is the way it ran, boys: 'presence here known. man in aeroplane passed over camp. went down lake half hour ago. out of sight now. answer!'" no wonder bobolink fairly held his breath, and the other five scouts looked at each other, as though they could hardly believe their ears. for a full minute they sat there and stared; while bobolink remembered the far-away black object that, at the time, he had thought to be a buzzard. chapter xxiii still floundering in the mire "whee!" it was, of course, bobolink who gave utterance to this characteristic exclamation. like most of the others, he had been so stunned by the message read by paul, that for the moment he failed to find words to express his feelings. an aeroplane had passed over the camp! and heading south, which would take it toward the quarter where stanhope lay! here they had thought themselves so far removed from civilization that the only persons within a range of miles might be set down as a wild man and some lawless counterfeiters, who had chosen this region because of its inaccessibility. and now they had learned that one of the latest inventions of the day had been moving above the island, with the pilot actually looking down on the camp, and so discovering the fact of the boy scouts having returned after their banishment from the place. no wonder they all stared at each other, and that speech was denied them for a time. jack was the first to speak. he had read the message, being nearly as good a signalman as paul or jud. "things seem to be picking up at a pretty lively clip for us; eh, fellows?" was the way he put it. "picking up?" gasped bobolink; "seems to me they're getting to the red hot stage about as fast as they can. an aeroplane! and up here on our desert island at that, which folks said was given over to spooks and wild men! that _is_ the limit, sure! hold me, somebody; i think i'm going to faint!" but as nobody made any movement in that direction, bobolink changed his mind. "let's look into this thing a little closer, fellows," said paul, always prompt to set an investigation going. "that's what!" echoed bluff, surprising himself by not stammering a particle, even though he was still quivering with excitement. "jud says an aeroplane passed over the camp; but he didn't tell whether it rose from the island or not, though the chances are that it did," paul continued. "why do you say that as if you felt sure?" demanded tom betts. "yes," put in phil, eagerly, "you've got on to something, paul; give us a chance to grab it, too, please." "sure i will," complied the scout master, cheerfully. "and i'm only surprised that one of you, always so quick to see such things, hasn't jumped on to this little game as soon as i have. look back a short time, and you'll remember how we were scratching our heads over the tracks of wheels down in that big opening!" "wheels!" exclaimed bobolink, with fresh excitement. "well, i should say yes; and looks to me like we had 'em in our heads too, where the brains ought to be. wheels, yes, and rubber-tired wheels too! remember how they seemed to run up and down a regular track, and just went so far, when they gave out? whoop! why, it's as easy as two and two make four. anybody ought to have guessed that." "huh!" remarked tom betts, scornfully; "that's what they said, you recollect, when columbus discovered america. after you know, everything looks easy. in my mind paul goes up head. he's in a class by himself." "and that forge might have been used, among other things, for doing all sorts of mending metal pieces connected with an aeroplane," paul went on, smiling at tom's tribute of praise. "not forgetting these sort of things," bobolink observed, positively, as he took out a pair of bright new quarters, and jingled them musically in his hand. "well, we haven't had any reason to change our minds about that thing,--yet," said paul. "but what strikes me as the queerest of all is the fact that while we must have been pretty close by when that aeroplane went up, how was it none of us heard the throbbing of the engine?" they looked at each other in bewilderment. paul's query had opened up a vast field of conjecture. one and all shook their heads. "i pass," declared tom. "me too," added phil. "must 'a got some new kind of motor aboard that is silent," suggested jack. "j-j-just a-goin' to s-s-say that, when jack t-t-took the w-w-words out of m-m-my m-m-mouth," bluff exploded. "no trouble doin' that, bluff," laughed bobolink. "if that aeroplane did climb up out of that field, while we pushed through the heavy timber, and none of us heard a thing, let me tell you, boys, they've got a cracker-jack of a motor, that's what!" "but arrah! would ye be thinkin' that a lot of bog-trottin' counterfeiters'd be havin' a rale aeroplane?" burst out andy flinn, who had up to now been unable to give any expression to his feelings. "i'd say these fellers must be a pretty tony lot, that's all," bobolink declared. "whatever do you suppose they use such a machine for?" asked tom. again all eyes were turned upon paul, as the oracle of the group of wondering scouts. he shrugged his shoulders, as if he thought he had as much right as any of the others to admit that he was puzzled. "well, we'd have to make a stab at guessing that," he observed. "any one thing of half a dozen might be the truth. an aeroplane could be used for carrying the stuff they make up here to a distant market. then again, it might be only a sort of plaything, or hobby, of the chief money-maker; something he amuses himself with, to take his mind off business. all men have hobbies--fishing, hunting, horse racing, golf--why couldn't this chap take to flying for his fun?" "that sounds good to me," declared bobolink; "anyhow, we know he must be a kind of high-flier." "seems like our mystery bulges bigger than ever," remarked phil, frowning. "it does, for a fact," admitted tom; "instead of finding out things, we're getting deeper in the mud all the time." "oh! i don't know," paul said, musingly; and although the rest instantly turned upon him, fully expecting that the scout master would have some sort of communication to make, he did not think it worth while, at that time, to explain what he meant. "say, i wonder, now, if we could see anything of those fellows from up here?" remarked bobolink, suddenly. "that's so," echoed phil, perceiving what the other intended to convey; "we can see the whole of the island now; and if they're camped somewhere on the north end, perhaps we might get a glimpse of canvas." "what makes you think these men have their headquarters on the north end, rather than anywhere else?" asked paul, quickly. "why, when we got up here, i noticed that smoke was climbing up over there; and smoke means a fire; which also tells that some person must be around to look after it," replied phil, promptly. "pretty good reasoning," said paul, nodding his head toward phil; for if anything gave him pleasure as scout master of the troop, it was to see a boy using his head. all now looked over the crown of the hill, toward the upper end of the island. the first thing they saw, of course, was the thin column of smoke which phil had mentioned. then bobolink burst out with: "and you were right, paul, when you said that the chances were the island was close to the north side of the lake, so animals could swim across. why, only a narrow streak of water separates 'em there, sure enough." "oh! that was only a guess on my part," paul confessed. "i saw about how far away the mainland trended up there, and supposed that our island must run near it in places. i'm pleased to see that i hit the mark, for once at least, in this mixed-up mess." paul was evidently more or less provoked because he had been unable to understand many of the strange things that had happened since their arrival on cedar island. and the others knew that he was taking himself to task because of his dullness; but what of them, if the scout master needed to be wakened up--where did they come in? "i can't be sure about it," observed phil, who had been looking intently at one particular spot; "but it seems as if i could make out the roof of a shed of some kind, over yonder, close to where the smoke rises." this set them all to looking again. andy, who had very good eyes, declared he could make it out, and that it was a roof of some kind; one or two of the others, after their attention had been called to the spot, also admitted that it did look a little that way, though they could not say for a certainty. "anyhow, i reckon that's where these men live," paul declared; "and now the question is, are we going to turn back here; or keep right on exploring this queer old cedar island?" bobolink, who was busy cutting his initials in the bark of the big cedar that topped the squatty hill, spoke first of all; for being an impetuous fellow, he seldom thought twice before airing his opinions. "me to push right on," he said. "what difference does it make to us that some other fellows chance to be camping on the same island? it's free to all. we aren't going to bother them one whit, if only they leave us alone. but they began wrong, you see, when they told us to get off the earth. that riled me. i never did like to be sat on by anybody. it just seems like something inside gets to workin' overtime, and all my badness begins to rise up, like mom's yeast in a batch of dough. count my vote to go on ahead, paul." "well, who's next?" asked the scout master "and remember, that when it comes to a matter like this, i always try and do what the majority wants." "i'm willing to do what the rest say," came from jack. "go right on, and make a clean job of it," said tom betts, grimly. "s-s-same here!" jerked out bluff. "that spakes my mind to a dot, so it do," andy followed. paul threw up his hand. "enough said; that makes four in favor already, and settles the matter. i won't tell you which way i would have voted, because the thing's been taken from my hands. and besides, i would only have considered your welfare in making my decision, and not my own desire." "which manes he would have said yis for himsilf, and no for the rist of us," declared the irish boy, exultantly; "so it's glad i am we've made up our minds to go on. whin do we shtart, paul, darlint?" "right away," replied the one addressed. "there's no use staying any longer up here, unless you think i'd better get jud again, and wigwag him all that we've learned up to now." "it'll keep," said phil, hastily, for he wanted to see the faces of those other scouts when the several astonishing pieces of news were told; especially about the finding of the real wild man asleep, the discovery of the field forge in the open glade and the picking up of the two silver quarters, which last he felt sure would give them all a surprise. "a right!" the scout master announced, "i think pretty much the same way; and besides, it would take a long while sending all that news. but perhaps i ought to let the boys know we're going on further; and that they needn't expect us much before the middle of the afternoon. that'll give us plenty of time to roam around, and perhaps come back another way." so he started once more to catch the attention of jud, perched high up in that tree above the sink near the lower end of the island, where he could have an uninterrupted view of the cedar on the top of the hill. then there was a fluttering of the signal flag and briefly the scout master informed the other as to what their intentions were. "that job's done," paul remarked, presently, when jud replied with a gesture that implied his understanding the message; "and now to move down-hill again. we're taking some big chances in what we're expecting to do, fellows, and i only hope it won't prove a mistake. come along!" chapter xxiv the discovery "there's one thing that i think we haven't bothered our heads much about, paul," remarked jack, just before they quitted the vicinity of the big cedar on top of the hill. "what?" asked bobolink, cocking his head on one side to see how well his initials looked in the bark of the tree from which cedar island took its name; and which would tell later explorers that others had been there ahead of them. "why, it seems to me those clouds down there on the southern horizon have a look that spells storm," jack continued. "wow! wonder if we will strike another rainy spell?" said bobolink, so quickly that none of the others had a chance to get a word in; "that last one helped us get out of the mud in the canal; if another comes will it be as accommodatin', or turn on us, and whoop things up, carrying our tents away over the island, and losing 'em in the swamps beyond there?" "oh! say, don't imagine so much, bobolink," interrupted phil. "you're the greatest fellow i ever saw for figuring all sorts of bad things out long before they ever get a chance to start. what jack means is, will we be apt to get caught in the rain, and be soaked?" "that's the main thing," added tom betts, who was rather particular about how his khaki suit looked on him, for tom was a bit of a "dresser," as some of the others, less careful with regard to their looks, called it. "i've noticed that it's grown pretty close and muggy," paul went on. "i should say it had," added bobolink. "i kept moppin' my face most of the way up the rise. thought we'd sure get a fine breeze after reachin' the top; but nixey, nothing doing. it's as dead as a door nail; or julius caesar ever was. yes, that spells rain before night, i'd like to risk my reputation as a weather prophet in saying." "still, we go on?" paul asked. "well, we'd be a fine lot of scouts," blurted out bobolink, "if the chance of getting our backs wet made us give up a plan we'd decided on." "lead the way, paul; they're bent on finding out something more about these men. and feeling that way, as bobolink says, a little rain storm wouldn't make them change their minds," and jack, while speaking, started after the scout master, who had commenced to descend the hill. they did not immediately turn toward the north side. there seemed no use in deliberately making their presence known to any one stationed over at the north end of the island, providing the mysterious men were not already aware of it. paul, when doing his wigwag act, had been careful to keep the crest of the hill between his flag and that suspicious quarter where the smoke column was lazily creeping up, as smoke has a habit of doing just before rain comes. of course it might be possible that the man in the aeroplane, after discovering the tents in the sink, may have made some sort of signal that would tell his comrades the fact of the scouts having returned in the night. paul wished, now that it was too late, he had thought to ask jud about that point. it might be of some benefit to them to know whether the men were aware of their presence; or rested serene in the belief that they were the only occupants of the island, besides the wild man. after the scouts had gone down a little way, paul began to change his course. he was now turning toward the north. the trees grew much more thickly here, and would surely screen them from observation. the boys had resumed their former habit of observing everything that came in their way, as true scouts always should. they turned their heads from right to left and bobolink even looked back of him more than a few times. perhaps he remembered that there was a wild man at large who might take a notion to awake from his sleep, and, discovering the scout patrol, think it his business to follow them. and then, to be sure, they ought to keep in mind the fact concerning that wild dog that had gone back to the habits of its ancestors, preferring to live by hunting, rather than take food from the hand of man. it would be far from pleasant to have old lion suddenly sneak up on them, and give them a scare. but everything seemed peaceful around them. now and then a bird would fly out of a thicket, or give a little burst of song from the branch of some tree. a red-headed woodpecker tapped boisterously on the dead top of a beech near by, trying hard to arouse the curiosity of the worms that lived there, so as to cause them to poke out their heads to see who was so noisy at their front doors; when of course the feathered hammerer stood ready to gobble them up. "oh!" gasped bobolink, when there was a sudden whirring sound of wings, and they had a furtive glimpse of something flashing through the undergrowth near by. "it's only a partridge; don't be worried!" remarked phil. "sure it was," muttered bobolink, with scorn; "any fellow with only one eye'd know that _now_; but all the same, the thing gave me a bad turn, i'm that keyed up." "and that's a cotton-tail looking at us over yonder, so don't throw another fit when he takes a notion to skip out," phil continued, pointing with his cudgel to where a rabbit sat, observing the intruders, as though wondering what business any human beings had coming to the island that had been left alone so long. presently the little animal skipped off a few paces and then stopped again. as the scouts advanced, it repeated these tactics; indeed, so tame did it seem that any of them could have easily hit the rabbit with a stone, had they felt so inclined, which, as scouts, they could not think of doing. "looks like she's got a litter of young ones close by here," said bobolink; "and is playing lame just to lead us away from the bunch. i've seen rabbits do that before now. the cuteness of the thing! look at her, would you, just beggin' us to run after, and try to capture her?" "i've seen a partridge act as if she had a broken wing," jack remarked, quietly; "and flutter along the ground in a way that couldn't help but make one try to catch her; but if you chased after her, it would be to see the old bird take wing pretty soon, and go off like a rocket." "same here," declared paul; "and going back, i flushed a whole covey of the prettiest little birds you ever saw. they'd been crouching under a bush while the old one played lame; just as if she'd told them all about it. but i heard her calling in the brush later on, and of course she got them all together again." "there goes your lame rabbit now, bobolink; and say, look at the way she jumps over the ground," remarked phil, chuckling. "not so loud, boys," cautioned the scout master. "these things are all mighty interesting; but we mustn't forget what we're here for nor yet the fact that we've got a pretty good hunch there are some men close by who would be just as mad as hops if they knew we meant to stalk their camp and spy on them. if you have to say anything, whisper it softly, remember." at that they all fell silent. it was true that they had forgotten for the moment that they were doing scouting work; and under such conditions talking was not allowed, especially above the lowest tone. all of them noticed that it was getting very close now, for they had to use the red bandanna handkerchiefs they carried, and quite frequently at that, to wipe away the perspiration that oozed from their foreheads. "lucky we left our coats in camp; isn't it?" remarked phil. "looks that way now, but if that rain does strike us, we may wish we had 'em on," tom betts replied; showing that he at least had not been able to put out of his head the possibility of a storm. "seems to me we must be getting somewhere," phil observed. "it can't be very much further," paul answered, feeling that the remark was addressed to him as the pilot of the expedition." "i should say not," came from bluff, as chipper as a bird's song, and without the least sign of halt or break; "if we go on much more, we'll walk off the end of the island." bobolink patted him on the back, as if to encourage him in well doing. "that's the stuff, bluff; you c'n do it when you try," he whispered; "but as to steppin' into the lake, i guess we aren't that near the north end yet, by a good sight." paul nodded his head, but said nothing; from that bobolink knew the scout master agreed with him. they could go considerably longer without being halted by coming to the water's edge. jack called the attention of his chums just then to something ahead. "seems to me i smell smoke," he said, "and if you bend down here, so you can look under the branches of the trees, you'll see something that's got the shape of a shed, or cabin, off yonder." the others, upon making a try, agreed with jack that it did seem that way. "oh! we're right on top of the nest, all right" chattered bobolink, but showing his wisdom by keeping his voice down to its lowest note; "and now, if we c'n duplicate that little dodge we played at the shack of the wild man, it's goin' to be as easy as turning over off a spring-board, with a ten foot drop." "but if we're caught we might get shot at," suggested phil, as if the idea had struck him for the first time that they were really playing with fire, in thus bearding desperate lawbreakers in their den. "we aren't going to get caught," said bobolink; "who's afraid? not i. lead along, paul. i want to get this thing out of my system, so i c'n have a little rest up here," and he placed a hand on his brow. although himself doubtful as to the wisdom of the move, paul could not back down now, after allowing the boys to vote on the matter. perhaps he was more or less sorry that at the time he had not exercised his privilege as scout master to put his foot down on their taking any more chances, just to satisfy such curiosity as reckless fellows like bobolink might feel, with regard to the unknown men. it was too late now. until some of the boys themselves manifested a desire to call the retreat, he must go on; although it began to seem more than ever audacious--this creeping up on a den of men who were hiding from the eye of the law in order to carry on their nefarious trade. and so they started to creep forward, now dodging behind trees, and crawling back of friendly patches of bushes whenever the chance presented itself. it was all exciting enough, to be sure, and doubtless gave the boys many a delightful little thrill. in this fashion they came upon a larger clump of trees and bushes, which, instead of trying to round, they concluded to pass through. it was just as they gained a point inside this clump that they were brought up with a round turn by discovering a couple of objects standing there, as though they had been left behind when the valuable contents which they formerly encased had been taken out. these were two large packing cases, of unusual shape, and made of heavy planed boards! some of the scouts looked at them carelessly, for to them these objects did not carry any particular meaning. not so jack, tom betts and bobolink. those three boys had received a shock, as severe as it was unexpected. they recognized those cases as being the identical ones which had only lately reposed snugly in the planing mill of jack's father in stanhope, and to guard which one hans waggoner had been hired by the man who owned them, professor hackett! and as they stood there and gaped, doubtless among the many things that flashed into the minds of those three lads was the fact that _somebody_ had been trying to get to see what the contents of those mysterious cases might be; which person they now knew must have been a government secret service man, a detective from washington, on the track of the bold counterfeiting gang! all these things, and much more, flashed through the minds of jack and his chums, as they stood there in that thicket, and stared hard at the two big cases bound around with twisted wire, but which had now been relieved of their unknown contents, for they stood empty. and the others, realizing that something had occurred out of the regular channel, waited for them to speak, and explain what they had discovered. chapter xxv time to go back "what is it, bobolink--jack?" asked the scout master. "the boxes yonder!" bobolink managed to exclaim. "you evidently have seen them before; tell me, jack, are they the ones you said your father stored for that man?" continued paul. "they certainly look mighty like them," replied the other; "and you know, they were taken away that morning early. they must have been carried across country to the shore of the lake, and then ferried over in a rowboat. that was what we saw the marks of, and the four men walked off with these between them." "whee! did you ever?" gasped the still bewildered bobolink. "yes, here you c'n see the markin' on the lid they threw away when they opened this one--'professor hackett, in care of john stormways, stanhope,' all as plain as anything. and to think how after all my worryin' the old boxes have bobbed up here. don't it beat the dutch how things turn out?" that seemed to be the one thing that gripped bobolink's attention--the strange way in which those two heavy boxes with the twisted wire binding had happened to cross his path again. but paul was thinking of other things, that might have a more serious bearing on the case. he turned to jack again. "what do you know about this so-called professor?" he asked. "me? why, next to nothing, only that he comes from down near new york city at a place called coney island, where lots of fakirs hold out; and plenty of men too, in the summer season, who would want to circulate a little money that did not bear the government stamp." "but your father seems to have known him; or at any rate believed he was a law-abiding citizen," pursued paul; "otherwise he would hardly have given him the privilege of storing his cases in his mill over night." "oh! my father is that easy-going, nearly anybody could pull the wool over his eyes. he believed the yarn this pretended professor told him, i've no doubt, and thought it next door to nothing to let him keep the boxes in the mill for a short time. you know, my father is the best-hearted man in stanhope, barring none. but i agree with the rest of you that this time he must have got stung. the professor is sure a bad egg. i must put my dad wise as soon as i get half a chance." "perhaps it's already too late to save him from getting stuck with a lot of the stuff they manufacture?" suggested tom betts. "oh! that could hardly be so," jack replied, cheerfully. "when these bogus money-makers want to get rid of some of their stock they always have go-betweens do the job for them. it would be too easy tracing things if they passed the stuff themselves. so i guess my dad hasn't taken in any great amount of the counterfeits." bobolink was down on his knees. he even crawled into one of the overturned boxes, as though trying hard to ascertain from sundry marks what could have been contained under that wooden cover. he came out, shaking his head, as though his efforts had not been attended by success. "looks like machinery of some kind, that's all i c'n tell," he admitted. "but of course, they'd need a press of some sort to work off the paper money on. now, chances are, it's bein' put up right in that long shed yonder, that we c'n see. question is, how're we goin' to get close enough to peek through a crack, and find out what's goin' on in there?" again did most of the boys look uneasily at each other. paul believed that, now the great test had arrived, they were beginning to weaken a little. no doubt it did not seem so glorious a thing when you got close up, this spying on a band of lawless men, who would be apt to deal harshly with eavesdroppers, if caught in the act. still, he would not give the order to retreat unless they asked for it. they had been allowed to settle that matter when they voted; it was up to bobolink, tom, bluff or andy to start the ball rolling, if they began to reconsider their hasty conclusion of a while back. bobolink looked toward the low, long shed, now plainly seen, in something of a rocky opening, with glimpses of water beyond which told how close to the shore it had been built. but he did not act as though as anxious to rush matters as before. "why d'ye believe they ever landed those boxes where they did, and toted 'em all the way up here, heavy as they were, when there's the water close by?" asked jack. "i was thinking about that a minute ago," replied paul; "and the only explanation i can find is this: perhaps the water is mighty shallow all around up at the north end of the island. i can see that the shore is rocky, and if that's so, then no boat with a heavy load could get close enough in to land the stuff. and so they had to get busy, and carry the boxes, one at a time." "sounds reasonable, and we'll let her go at that," commented bobolink, who, as a rule, was contented to take paul's opinion. paul himself stooped down to take a look into the cases. he did not make any remark as he straightened up again, nor did any of the others think to ask his opinion; which possibly may have been lucky, for perhaps paul would not have liked to commit himself just then. if he had found anything that gave him a new clue, he was evidently keeping it to himself until he could get more proof. "s'pose we ought to make a fresh start," suggested bobolink, but with a lack of eagerness that was plainly noticeable; it was as though the discovery of those two mysterious boxes under such strange conditions had rather cooled his ardor. "that's so," remarked tom. "we've g-g-got so n-n-near now, we ought to f-f-finish!" bluff declared. and yet none of them made the slightest movement looking to an advance, a fact that paul could not help but notice, and which warned him they were close to the point of a change of policy. a suggestion that they give up the spy business at this stage, and retreat in good order to their camp, would doubtless have met with favor, and been sure of a unanimous vote. but still paul, having his own notions of such matters, when dealing with boys, declined to say anything. if one of the four who were mainly responsible for their being there should take it upon himself to offer such a motion, he would only too gladly put it to a vote. until such time came he must continue to remain silent. "just as you say, boys; i'm carrying out your plans," he remarked, quietly, wishing to let them know that they had it in their own power to alter conditions at any time they so desired. they all finally moved after the scout master, even if some feet did lag a little. bluff and phil particularly were conscious of a strange sinking sensation in the region of their hearts, which they mistrusted signified fear; and rather than have any of their comrades suspect that they had a cold hand pressing there, they shut their teeth hard together, and determined that under no circumstances would they show the white feather. so paul led them on. again they tried to conceal themselves as best they might in devious ways. here the wide and generous trunk of a friendly tree afforded them a certain amount of shelter; a little further on a small pile of rocks answered the same benevolent purpose; but always the main idea was to hide from any curious eyes that might be on the lookout in the vicinity of that queer looking shed--newly made, if the fresh boards signified anything. "looky here! there's a man!" suddenly exclaimed bobolink. the others had discovered the man at about the same time. they all lay flat and hardly dared breathe, lest in some manner they attract the attention of the stranger, who seemed to be not only a big man, but rather a fierce-looking fellow in the bargain. he was glancing all around at the heavens, as though wondering whether the aeroplane was not coming back, whatever its mission in flying away south could have been. standing there, he shaded his eyes with his hands and continued to look toward the south for several minutes. then he made a gesture as of disappointment, and vanished around the corner of the shed. "never looked down this way once!" bobolink said triumphantly, as though their escape had caused his spirits to rise a little. "that leaves the coast clear again, anyhow," said tom betts, as if he now had a rather disagreeable duty to perform, which, since it had to be done, had better be gotten through with as speedily as possible. when leaving camp these brave scouts had never dreamed but that spying upon the enemy would prove the most delightful task imaginable. even later on, when they had voted to keep moving forward, with so much assurance, the picture had not begun to fade; but now it did not seem the same. as the shelter grew less and less, however, it became evident that presently, if they continued to advance in this fashion, they must reach a point where, in order to make progress, they must expose themselves to hostile eyes, should any be on the watch. would even this cause one of the four scouts to "take water," as bobolink called it, and make the sign that he had had enough? paul knew them all pretty well, and he also realized the fact that every fellow possessed a nature bordering on the stubborn. it was the dread of being thought cowardly that kept them from taking the cue from paul, and ending this foolish advance. they had gone over fifty feet since the last stop, and passed the last large tree which could be looked on to give them any shelter. it was just at this moment that once again the big man was seen coming hastily around the corner of the shed. at sight of him the boys stood still. there was no use trying to hide now. perhaps some faint hope took possession of them that they might be unnoticed if they did not move; just as the still hunter, stalking a feeding deer, will watch its short tail, and whenever he sees it twitch he stands perfectly motionless; for he knows that the animal is about to raise his head, and that he will probably be taken for a stump if he does not move hand or foot. but evidently the man had sighted the seven khaki-clad scouts. he seemed almost petrified with amazement at first, and stood staring at them. as if awaking from his trance, he began to make frantic motions with his arms, and at the same time shouted hoarsely at them: "go back! get out of that! you're crazy staying there! run, i tell you, while you have the chance! get away! get away, you fools!" the scouts looked at each other in astonishment. what could it all mean? were all the men on this queer island stark, staring crazy? he called them that, but it is always a rule for mad people to believe every one else crazy but themselves. "say, what does the guy mean?" cried bobolink, who seemed to be utterly unable to understand a thing; "mebbe it's a small-pox hospital we've run on, fellows!" but paul was beginning to see a light. possibly the excited gestures, as well as the urgent words of the big man, may have assisted him to arrive at a conclusion. he no longer felt so decided about not speaking the word that would cause his little detachment to turn and retreat. there must be danger hovering over them, danger in some terrible form, to make that unknown man so urgent. "let's get out of this, boys!" he called, "every fellow turn, and streak it as fast as he can. and get behind trees as quick as you can, because--" they had already started to obey the scout master, and possibly had covered a few jumps when it seemed that the very earth shook and quivered under them, as a fearful roar almost deafened every boy. just as you have seen a pack of cards, made into tent shape in a curving row, go falling down when the first one is touched, so those seven scouts were knocked flat by some concussion of the air. they had hardly fallen than one and all scrambled to their feet, and fled madly from the scene, as if fearful lest the whole end of the island might be blown up behind them, and catch them in a trap from which there could be no escape. chapter xxvi honorable scars so it turned out after all that the scout master did not have to change his mind, and give the order for retreat. when that dreadful panic overwhelmed the scouts, it was really a case of "every one for himself." either by rare good luck, or some sort of instinct, the seven lads managed to keep pretty well together as they ran. not a single fellow dreamed of allowing himself to get separated from his comrades. it seemed to be a case of "united we stand, divided we fall," or "in union there is strength." if in their mad rush some of the boys collided with trees, or stumbled over obstacles that they failed to discover in time, they were not of a mind to let such trifles interfere with their making record time. in such cases it was only necessary to scramble erect again, and put on a little extra spurt in order to overhaul their comrades. what had taken them half an hour to cover when they were "scouting" in such approved fashion, was passed over in about five minutes. it was paul who came to his senses first. he realized that there was no one chasing them and that, to tell the truth, not one of the boys could have been seriously hurt by what had befallen. so he began to laugh, and the sound reaching the ears of the others, appeared to act on their excited minds like soothing balm. gradually the whole lot slackened their pace until they were going at a jog trot; which in turn settled down to a walk. finally bobolink came to a full stop. "whee! let's get a few decent breaths, fellows!" he managed to gasp. the others were apparently nothing loth, and so they all drew up in a bunch. a sorry lot they looked just then, to tell the truth. it seemed as though nearly every fellow had some distinguishing mark. phil's rather aristocratic face had a long scratch that extended down the right side, and gave him a queer look; jack was caressing a lump on his forehead, which he may have received from a tree, or else when he was knocked down without warning by that singular explosion; andy was trying to quench a nose-bleed, and needed his face washed the worst way; bluff's left eye seemed partly closed, as if he had been too close to the business end of an angry bee; while bobolink had two or three small cuts about his face that made him look as if he had been trying to tattoo himself--with wretched success. so they looked at one another, and each thought the balance of the crowd had the appearance of a set of lunatics on the rampage. hardly had they stared at each other than they set to laughing. "oh! my stars! but aren't you a screamer though, andy, with all that blood smeared over your face; and bluff, why he looks as if he'd been in a prize fight!" was the way bobolink expressed his feelings, bending over as he laughed. "huh! you're not so very pretty yourself!" replied bluff, with not the slightest sign of an impediment in his speech--evidently it had been frightened out of his system for the time being. "anybody'd think you were a south sea islander on the warpath. and wouldn't they cross over to the other side of the road in a hurry if they met you! say, if mazie kenwood or laura carson could only see you now, they'd give you the cut straight." "look at jack's bump, would you?" tom betts exclaimed. "don't call attention to me any more than you can help," jack remarked, making a wry face, as he caressed the protuberance on his forehead; "it feels as big as a walnut, let me tell you, and hurts like fun. the sooner i'm back in camp, so i can slap some witch hazel on that lump, the better it'll please me, boys." after a little more laughing and grumbling, paul, who had escaped without any visible hurts, though he walked a little lame, remarked: "well, do we start right back again, and take a look-in on those men? don't everybody speak at once, now!" all the same they did, and the burden of the united protest was that circumstances alter cases; that they had arrived at the conclusion that what those men were doing on the island could be no affair of honest, law-abiding scouts; and that as for them, the camp in the sink offered more attractions at that particular moment than anything else they could think of. of course that settled it. the scouting was over for that occasion. they had done themselves credit, as far as it went; but then, who would ever dream that they would come within an ace of being blown sky-high with the whole upper end of the island? as if by common consent, they started to move forward again, and every fellow seemed to know, as if by instinct, which was south, and whereabouts the camp was, for they needed no pilot now. and as they journeyed they talked it all over. every boy seemed to have an opinion of his own with regard to what had happened, and they differed radically. "tell you what," said tom betts, who had also escaped with only a few minor injuries, because he was as quick as a cat, and must have fallen on a soft piece of ground besides; "tell you what, i thought that old hill had turned into a volcano, and just bust all to flinders." "well, now," phil admitted, "i somehow had an idea that storm had chased up when we didn't chance to be watching, and lightning had struck a tree close to the place where we happened to be standing looking at that crazy man wave his arms." "me?" bobolink remarked; "why, i was dead sure what we guessed about a war game bein' played up here between two pretended hostile armies was right; and that one of 'em had blown up the fort of the other. you see, that aeroplane had a sorter military air about it, even if i didn't see it. and i'm not sure yet it isn't that." "one thing sure," remarked paul; "the man was trying to warn us to keep back, for he knew some sort of mine was going to explode, and that we might be killed. as it was, we got off pretty lucky, i think. this sprain will heal in a day or two; but if a rock weighing a ton or two had dropped down on me, i guess the chances of my ever seeing stanhope again would have been mighty slim." "but tell me," bobolink asked, "what in the world would counterfeiters want with exploding mines, and doin' all that sort of thing? just remember that big bang we had the other night, that woke everybody up. shows it's a habit with 'em, and that this wasn't some freak accident. gee! my head's buzzing around so i can't think straight. somebody do my guessin' for me; won't you, please?" "that's right," said tom betts, suddenly; "who are these men, anyway? p'raps we didn't size 'em up straight when we made up our minds they were bogus money-makers. mebbe they happen to be a different sort of crowd altogether. how about that, paul; am i off my trolley when i say that?" "i've been beginning to believe something was crooked in our guess for a little while, tom," replied the scout master; "but all the same, you've got me up in the air when you ask who and what they are. i'm rattled more than i've been in many a day, to be honest with you all." bobolink took out something from his pocket. he stared hard at the two shining quarters, and jingled them in his hand. "look good to me," he was heard to say; "i'd pass 'em any time for genuine. but what silly chump'd be throwing good money around like that, tell me?" "or bad money either, bobolink," remarked paul; "so you see, it was an accident in any case. you've lost money many a time out of your pocket; well, this man was in the same boat. chances are, that's straight goods." bobolink grinned. "if that's so," he remarked calmly, "i'm in a half dollar, and that's some satisfaction. but say, what a time we'll have tellin' the boys. wow! i can see the eyes of little billie, and curly, and nuthin just stickin' out of their heads when they hear all we've run up against." "and we'd better move along a little faster while about it," observed paul. "why? hope you don't think any of those men are chasin' after us; or that we'll run up against that wild man, or the big yellow dog again?" bobolink inquired, glancing fearfully about him. "no, i was considering the feelings of the boys," replied the scout master. "that's a fact," jack went on, "they'll be worried about us, after hearing that terrible report, and think something has happened to our crowd. but we're not a great way from camp now, paul." "no, and if the distance was greater, i'd stop long enough to send up a smoke signal that would tell jud we were all right. but that'd take time, and perhaps we'd better hurry along," and the scout master set a new pace, even though limping slightly. "got hurt some yourself; did you, paul?" jack asked, solicitously. "oh! only a little sprain, but it happens to be on a muscle that i have to use when i walk, and you know a fellow favors such a pain. but i can see where the sink lies now; we'll be there in ten minutes, perhaps half that." they continued to push on. for the time being most of them forgot about their personal troubles, in their anxiety to join their comrades. and bobolink, as he walked beside jack, spoke what was on his mind: "it was a grand old scare, all right, and one we won't ever forget, believe me; but there's one thing that tickles me half to death, jack. we know _now_ where the queer old boxes went to, even if we are up in the air about what was in them. and the chances are we may find that out before we're done with this business; because those men ought to come down and ask if anybody got hurt by their silly fourth of july fireworks display. there's the camp, boys. whoopee!" chapter xxvii another threatening peril loud cheers greeted the appearance of the seven scouts, as they hurried forward into the camp. and when those who had remained with the tents saw the various scratches, contusions and bumps that adorned most of the returned boys' faces, they were burning with eagerness to hear the details of the adventure. such a clatter of tongues as ensued, as every fellow tried to tell his version of the happening. if half that was said were written down, it would require many more chapters to give the details. gradually, however, each stay-at-home scout began to get a pretty clear idea of the series of adventures that had befallen their mates in trying to explore the mysteries of the island. they understood all about the wild man, and what the consensus among the seven explorers seemed to be concerning the strangers who occupied the island, and were conducting such an amazing series of experiments, even making use of an aeroplane to accomplish their ends. the guesses that followed were legion, yet paul, who listened patiently to the most astounding theories, shook his head in the end. "i don't believe any of us have hit on the right thing yet, fellows," he said. "but there's meat in a number of the guesses you've made, and perhaps we'll get the story after a while. but how about grub; we're as hungry as bears?" "never expected to join you at lunch, for a fact," grinned bobolink; "but then, we made better time than we ever thought we could on the return journey. talk to me about a prize spurrin' a fellow on to do his level best--the whip that does it is to put a first-class scare in him. then you're goin' to see some runnin' that takes the cake. wheel didn't we sprint, though? bet you i jumped clear over a log that stood six feet high from the ground--more or less." it happened that the stay-at-home scouts had just prepared their noon meal at the time the explosion occurred that made the whole island tremble. that had startled them so much that they had not had the heart to think of sitting down because of anxiety about the fate of their chums. and so the dinner had remained untouched up to the time they heard the "cooee" of the returning warriors; and then caught the bark of the fox, that told them that paul and his posse had returned. there was enough for all, because the cooks were very liberal in making up their messes. and over the dinner more suggestions were made as to what their future course ought to be. by now even the fire-eating bobolink was ready to cry quits, and back down; nor did he seem at all ashamed to admit the fact that he was afraid. "if those sillies mean to blow up the whole island, some way or other, why, what's the use of us stayin' here, an' goin' up with it, i'd like to know?" he said. "tell you what, i've got another guess comin', and it's this: p'raps they're meanin' to get rid of this island and lake, and have started to do the job. mebbe some big railroad wants a short line across country, and this thing is right in their way. i've heard of 'em doin' bigger things than just blowing up a little island; haven't you, paul?" he always appealed to the scout master when one of his brilliant thoughts came along. paul nodded his head. "that sounds more reasonable than a whole lot of things i've been listening to, bobolink, for a fact," paul admitted. "still, we don't know, and there's no way to find out the true story, right now. listen, fellows!" "thunder, away off, paul; guess we've all got explosions on the brain, because it gave me a start, too," said jack, laughing. "and if a storm's coming along," observed jud elderkin, who seemed vastly pleased when he heard that his signalling had been so easily understood, "why, i reckon we ought not to think of pulling down our good tents, and getting out of here, till she's over." it was plain from this that the scouts had determined to abandon their dangerous island, and spend the balance of the outing by making a camp on the mainland, where at least there was a reasonable expectation of not being blown sky-high by some explosion. "and since we're done eating perhaps we'd better take another look at the tent pins, to make sure they'll hold when the wind strikes us. some of these summer storms have a lively advance breeze, you know, boys," paul suggested. "little billie and i'll go over to the boats, and see that the curtains are buttoned down snug. some of us can stay inside while its rainin' and that'll give more room in the tents," bobolink remarked, jumping to his feet, with a return of his customary lively way. "and in this sink we'll be protected from any wind coming from the south, don't you think, paul?" jack ventured. "couldn't be better," was the reply. "those trees and bushes, as well as the rise in the ground, will help a lot. but get busy, fellows, with those tent pins. i'll take the axe, and go the rounds myself, to make doubly sure. it's not the nicest thing in the world to have your canvas blow away--eh, nuthin?" "you're right, it isn't," replied the little scout, "'specially when it lifts you right up with it into a tree, and has you tied up there in the snarls of a clothes line. i know all about that, and none of the rest of you ever tried it. excuse me from another balloon ride like that." in a short time everything was done that could be thought of to render things storm-proof. then the boys went over to the edge of the water to watch the advance of the black clouds, which those at the boats in the little cove declared was a sight worth seeing. and it certainly was, all the scouts admitted. some of them were filled with a certain awe, as they saw how inky the clouds looked. but what boy, or man either, for that matter, is there who has not felt this sensation when watching scurrying clouds that tell of an approaching storm? by degrees the boys began to drift back to the camp. every sort of excuse was given for leaving the beach. one fellow suddenly remembered that he had left his coat hanging on a bush, another had forgotten to fasten his knapsack, while a third wished to tie his blanket in a roll, in case the water did find a way to get into the sink. paul, jack, bobolink and jud remained until they saw the rough water away down near the southern shore of the lake, and understood that the first squall must be swooping upon them. then they too gave up the vigil, for the chances were the rain would come with the first breeze. with a howl and a roar the storm broke upon them. cowering in the tents, about four in each, as the others had taken to the boats, they waited with more or less suspense what might happen. the wind made the canvas shake at a lively clip, and the fastenings on the southern side were sorely tried; but they had been well taken care of and paul called out that he believed they were going to hold. for half an hour the rain beat down in torrents. none of them remembered ever hearing such a deluge descend, but perhaps their imaginations were excited on account of the peculiar conditions that surrounded them. all the same it rained, and then rained some more, until a very large quantity of water must have fallen, all of them decided. with paul and jack in the tent that was nearest to the lake were bobolink, tom betts and nuthin. "seems to me it's gettin' kind of damp in here," remarked bobolink, when the clamor outside had died down somewhat, and they could hear each other talk. "that's a fact," declared paul; "and after all it's just as well that we made sure our blankets and other things were tied up and hung away from the ground. but seems to me i hear one of the fellows in the boat shouting to us." when he opened the flap he found that the rain had almost stopped, as well as the wind to a great extent. perhaps the storm was over. "hello!" paul called out. "hey! that you, paul?" came in a voice he recognized as belonging to jud, who had been one of those in charge of the nearby boats. "yes, what's wrong?" asked the scout master. "can't you come over here? going to be the dickens to pay, i reckon. the bally old lake's rising like fun. looks like the outlet must have got stopped up somehow. you're sure going to have to move your tents mighty quick. coming, paul?" "all right," answered the other, as he crawled out, and started under the dripping trees for the spot where the two motorboats lay in the cove, sheltered from the waves that had been dashing against the shore elsewhere. when he reached the spot he found that all of the boys who had been sheltered in the boats were lined up on the shore, where they could see down the lake. jud himself seemed to be watching the water steal up a stick he had thrust into the sand. "gee! she's mounting like fun!" he exclaimed. "water must be pouring into the old lake from every side, and little gettin' out. say, if this keeps on, the whole island, except that hill up yonder, will be under water before night. it sets rather low, you understand, paul." the scout master was naturally thrilled by these words. he knew that the leader of the gray fox patrol was no alarmist, and that he seldom lost his head in times of excitement. and so it was with considerable apprehension that paul stooped down so he might see just how fast the lake was rising. and when he noticed that it actually crept up the stick before his very eyes, he knew that what jud had said about the whole island being covered might not be such a silly assertion after all. it began to look as though the adventures of the scouts had not yet reached an end, and that they were in for another thrilling experience. chapter xxviii prepared for the worst "she's just walking up hand over fist; eh, paul?" asked jud. "no question about it, jud," came the reply as the scout master cast an apprehensive look across the half-mile of water that separated them from the outlet of the lake. "i'd give something to know what's happened down there, to dam this water up, and just how far it's going to rise on us." "tell you what," said bobolink, who had followed paul when he left the tent, as had also the rest of the occupants, "i wouldn't be a bit surprised if that awful explosion shook the shoulder of earth and rock down, that we saw hanging above the mouth of the radway river where she leaves the lake." "you've hit it, i do believe!" cried paul, exultantly; "and that's just what did happen, chances are, fellows." "but if the outlet is filled up," said jud, "and this water keeps pouring in on four sides, it's dead sure the blooming lake will fill up in short order. what had we better do, paul?" "that's just what i'm trying to figure on, jud," answered the other; "it's one of two things--either hike out for the hill, where we'll be safe until the water goes down; or else get our things aboard the boats, and stay here." "that last strikes me as the best of all!" declared jack. "besides," broke in nuthin, "we don't want to lose those boats, you know. they were loaned to us and if we let 'em go to smash, wouldn't it take us a long time to pay the bill, though? besides, we'll need 'em to get away from here." "that isn't the worst of it," remarked paul, who was very serious. "why, what is there besides?" demanded bobolink. "suppose the water does get up so as to cover the island, all but the hill," the scout master went on deliberately, as though making sure of his ground as he talked; "and then, all of a sudden the weight of it broke through the dam; don't you see the suction, as the water rushed out, would be something _terrific_. no rope ever made, i reckon, could hold these boats back. they'd sure be drawn through the gap, and carried on the flood, any old way, even upside-down, maybe." "whew!" whistled bobolink; and as for some of the other fellows, they began to lose their usual color as they realized what paul was saying. "now, that's just an idea that came into my mind," paul went on, seeing that he had alarmed some of the scouts. "it may never happen, you understand. but you know the motto we believe in is 'be prepared!' that means never to take things for granted. keep your eyes and ears always on guard, and see lots of things, even before they swoop down on you. so, it's up to us, fellows, to get our tents and other fixings loaded up as soon as we can. after that we'll go aboard ourselves, and try to prepare against a sudden break in the dam." "and lookin' at that water creeping up," remarked jud, "the sooner we get busy, the better." accordingly, they all hastened back to the camp. it was found that already the water seemed to be creeping into the sink. those in the other two tents were talking it over, and wondering what was about to happen. when they heard the latest news, their faces indicated both astonishment and not a little alarm. but under the direction of the scout master, they started to convey all their belongings to the boats. first the blankets and clothes bags were taken over; then the food and cooking utensils; and finally the tents came down in a hurry, for the boys were working in water almost up to their knees when this last part of the job was concluded. once out of the sink, they found plenty of high ground to walk on, while carrying the wet tents to the landing where the boats were lying. after they were all aboard, the scouts packed the stuff as best they could, so that it would take up as little space as possible. meanwhile paul and jack, with both the other patrol leaders, were trying to figure out just what would be the best course for them to pursue. "makes me think of old noah, when he went aboard the ark, and the animals they followed two by two," said bobolink, with a chuckle. "huh, call yourself a kangaroo, or a monkey, if you like," spoke up old dan tucker, "but as for me i'd rather play the part of ham, or one of the other sons." "sure thing!" assented bobolink, cheerfully; "never saw the time yet when you raised any kick about takin' the part of ham. sounds good, don't it, dan?" it was pretty hard to keep the spirits of bobolink from sizzling and gushing forth like a fountain when the water is turned on. he could joke, even while the several leaders of the expedition were consulting gravely about their chances of holding the boats against the frightful suction of the current, when the obstructions in the outlet of the lake gave way, which they hoped would not be suddenly, but by degrees. it was certainly a condition that confronted them, and not a theory. paul was really more worried than he showed; for he kept his feelings under control, knowing that if some of the others realized how much he was concerned, the fact might create a panic. "if i really thought the worst would come," paul said, in a low tone, to jack, after it had been concluded that they would stay by the boats, and do the best they could, "why i'd be tempted to give the order to just cut for the hill, and leave everything but some food behind. once up there, we would be safe, and that's what we can't say is the case now." "but even if the water goes out with a rush, it can't tear a tree like this one up by the roots; can it?" asked jack, pointing to where the cables of the boats had been secured as strongly as possible. "that's so," replied the scout master; "but then, think of the ropes, and what a terrible strain would come on them. i'm afraid both would snap like pipe-stems. to hold tight, we'd need a big chain; or a hawser like that one the switching engine on the railroad uses to drag cars on a parallel track. but then, the water may be nearly as high, right now, as it will get we'll hope so, anyhow." that was paul's way of trying to look on the bright side, although he never failed to prepare for the worst, even while expecting the best. "if we could only think up some way to help ease the strain, it would be a good thing," observed jack, thoughtfully. "i wish you could. it would ease my mind more than i care to tell you," was paul's answer. "one thing, the storm is over," called out jud, just then; "see, there's a break in the clouds, and i reckon the sun will be peepin' out soon." "but the water will keep on rushing down the sides of the hills away off yonder," paul remarked, "and filling up this cup until it runs over. they say that the radway river drains three times the amount of country that our own bushkill does. and by the way the water comes in here, i believe it. look out there on the lake, will you; it shows that it's getting wider right now." "why, in another half hour, if it keeps on the same way, it's going to lap over pretty much all the lower part of the island," jack declared. everything else was neglected now, and the scouts gathered along the side of each boat, watching the lake. it was as if they half expected to see the water suddenly take to rushing toward the spot where they knew the peculiar outlet lay, not more than twenty feet across, and with abrupt sides, one of which had been partly overhanging the water at the time they entered. it was, of course, this section which must have been dislodged by the blast which shook the surrounding territory, filling the bed of the stream, and causing the rapidly accumulating waters of the lake to back up, since they could find no place to discharge, as usual. it was while they were moodily watching the waste of waters that one of the scouts, who had wandered across to the other side of the _comfortt_ suddenly sounded a fresh alarm, that sent another thrill to the hearts of the already excited boys. "hey! here's a lot of men comin' down on us, fellows i they're meanin' to capture our boats, just like pirates. boarders ahoy! get busy everybody. clubs are trumps!" as they rushed to the other side, some having to clamber over the heaps of duffle that took up so much room aboard, the scouts saw that it was no false alarm. a number of men were hurrying toward them, splashing through water that was in places almost knee deep, even when they took the upper levels. should they make a blunder, and stray off the ridges, it was likely they would speedily have to swim for it. paul was considerably aroused at first. they did not know very much about these mysterious people of the island; and after their recent rough experience, most of the boys were decidedly averse to knowing anything more of them. and yet, here they were hurrying toward the two motor-boats, as though they might indeed have some desperate idea in view. perhaps they meant to capture the boats, so as to insure their escape from the rising waters. and then again, it seemed at least possible that they might want to keep the scouts from telling what strange things they had seen. so the first thing paul did when he had that glimpse of the oncoming men, was to hasten to possess himself of his double-barreled shotgun. not that he expected that there would be any necessity for firing it, but it was apt to inspire a certain amount of respect. and the balance of the scouts had made haste to arm themselves with whatever they could find that would help hold the enemy at bay. some had brought their clubs aboard, others seized upon the push poles, while one grabbed up the camp axe, and another seized upon the hatchet. when eighteen husky and determined lads line the sides of two boats, prepared to give a good account of themselves, it must needs be brave men who would dare try to clamber aboard. and it was about this time, when things were looking rather squally around the floating homes of the scouts, that paul noticed something singular. chapter xxix lifting the lid three men could be seen splashing desperately through the water; and they seemed to be carrying a fourth, who was lying on a rude sort of litter, as though he might either be sick, or badly hurt. and so it flashed through paul's mind that perhaps after all their mission was not one of conquest, or even hostility, but that they were seeking help. "hold up, fellows," he hastened to say; "we'll have to let them come aboard now, because they never could get back to the hill again, with the water rising so fast. besides, i think they've got a wounded man along, and need help. don't forget we're scouts, and always ready to hold out a helping hand." "that's the ticket!" declared the impulsive bobolink, forgetting his warlike disposition when he saw the man on the litter. so paul beckoned to the men to approach. he had already made the discovery that one of those who bore the litter was the big man who had waved them away with such violent gestures, just before the terrible explosion, when they happened to get too near the mine that was being fired for some strange purpose. two minutes later, and still splashing through water that came almost up to their hips, those who bore the injured man arrived close to the boats. "why, it's professor hackett who's being carried!" exclaimed jack. the small man on the litter, who looked very white, lifted his head with an effort, and tried to wave his hand. "yes, that's who it is; and you're jack stormways; aren't you? oh! i hope that chum of yours can do something to stop this bleeding; i made them carry me down here as a last chance. my man who was sent for a doctor in our aeroplane, has not come back, and we're afraid he had an accident. can some of you boys help lift me aboard? i'm very weak from loss of blood, and nearly gone." his voice was as faint as a whisper; and indeed, it was a wonder that he managed to speak at all. the scouts had quite forgotten everything but that there was some one in trouble. tender hands immediately were forthcoming to assist in raising litter and man over the side of the boat. then the three attendants climbed aboard, and strange to say the scouts seemed to have forgotten all their fear of the men they had believed to be lawbreakers. for now they saw that they were an intelligent lot of men, who bore little resemblance to such criminals as they had seemed to be. paul had long been interested in surgery. his father was the leading doctor of stanhope, and had always encouraged this fancy in the boy. it seemed that the professor chanced to remember that he had been told about the ability of jack stormways' chum; and when matters began to look desperate, since none of his assistants could seem to stop the flow of blood that followed his accident, as a last resort he had forced them to put him on a litter, and make for the spot where they knew the scouts had their camp, the man in the aeroplane having signaled the fact back to them, just as paul suspected. of course they had not dreamed of such a thing as the lake rising, until they had gone too far to retreat; and then they took desperate chances of finding the boys still there, where they had boats with which they could go to the mainland. paul busied himself immediately. it was a pretty bad wound that the little man had received, and his left arm would be practically useless the balance of time; but he cared not for this, if only his life might be spared. jack and jud assisted whenever their services were needed and in the end paul had not only stopped the flow of blood, but had the injured arm neatly bandaged--as well, the professor weakly declared, as any surgeon could have done. "and now," said paul, turning on the big man, who had hovered around anxiously, watching what was being done, as though he thought a great deal of the professor; "in return for what we've done, won't you please tell us who and what you are, and why you're doing all these queer stunts away up here on this lonely island, where nobody can see you? we're all mixed up, and don't know what to think. at first we believed you must be a lot of counterfeiters hiding from the government agents; but what with these explosions, and such things as aeroplanes, i'm getting it in my head that it means you're trying out some big sensations that are going to be sprung on the coney island public next season." "and that's where you made a pretty clever guess, my boy," said the big man, as he settled down to take it a bit more easily after his recent hard work; "professor hackett has invented most of the biggest sensations seen at seaside resorts these last ten years. he expects to excel his record next season, and then retire; and i tell you, now, i began to think he'd retire another way, if he lost much more blood from that wound, which he got by accident this morning." the scouts looked at each other, and a broad smile appeared on many a face that only a short time before had been pale with apprehension. when a thing that has seemed a dark mystery is finally explained, it often looks so easy and simple that all of us wonder how we ever could have bothered our heads over such a puzzle. and so it was in this case. why did it come that no one had guessed the true explanation before, when it was so easy? they began to tell the big man all about their experiences, and how so many things seemed to make it appear that the strangers were hiding from officers. "how about that fellow who was hanging around my father's mill that night you had your two big boxes stored there?" jack asked. "he represented a rival inventor, who has always been jealous of professor hackett, and is forever trying to find out what he has on the stocks," replied the big man, whose name they learned was mr. jameson, an able assistant to the inventor of aerial bombs, brilliant exploding mines, and a dozen other wonders that thrill audiences at the seashore each season. "but wouldn't he be likely to follow the wagon when it took the boxes away in the morning?" the boy continued to ask. "oh! we put him on a false scent, by shipping two other boxes away on a train," was the reply. "he must have gone two hundred miles before he discovered his mistake; and i doubt very much if he knows yet, but is watching those cases to see what we do with them, away out in western new york state." "er, how about these?" asked bobolink, jingling the two shining quarters in his hand. "i picked 'em up close to that field smithy you have on the island. we thought they were the best counterfeits we ever saw. i guess they are." "i lost a bunch of small change through a hole in my pocket," laughed the man, "and so i judge those are a part of it. but keep them as souvenirs of your wonderful adventures on cedar island. every time you look at them you'll remember that narrow escape you and your friends had when you came near stepping on a mine, the fuse of which had been lighted; for professor hackett, even while he was wounded, would not hear of us stopping our work." "thanks," replied the gratified bobolink, again pocketing the quarters that had been the cause of so much speculation among the seven scouts; "i'll be glad to accept your kind offer. but there's another thing we'd like to know." "speak up, then, and i'll be pleased to accommodate you, if the knowledge is in my power to bestow. this flood bids fair to bring our experiments to an end for the time being, even if the professor's weakness hadn't made it necessary that we get to some place where he can receive the right kind of care, to build up his strength. what's bothering you now, my boy?" "how about the wild man?" asked bobolink. "oh! he was here when we came, and we made friends with him," the other replied, promptly. "you see, some of us have been up here for a month. we had some new stuff shipped in those big cases; but it'll all be rusted now by this water. the poor fellow is harmless, for all he looks so fierce. why, at the smell of coffee the tears trickled down his dirty cheeks like rain; it seemed to be just one last link that bound his flitting memory to something in the far-away past. we gave him an old saucepan to cook it in, and showed him how. ever since he's visited us often, and we supplied him with food, because it seemed as though he was the one who had first right to this island." "i hope the poor old chap has the good sense to climb that hill, and get away from the rising water," remarked jack, with some feeling. "have you any idea who he can be, or where he came from?" "we made up our minds that he had been out of his head a long time, and perhaps had escaped from some institution. he mentioned the name of john pennington once, and we think it must have been his. the professor intended to make inquiries, later on, and if possible have him returned to his home, wherever it might be." "did he have a big yellow dog tied up at his shack?" asked nuthin, eagerly, as though he wished to settle that point, because the animal in question had once belonged to the cypher family. "yes," answered mr. jameson, "but it got away from him one night, by breaking the rope, and he's been making a great fuss about it ever since. but from the ugly looks of the beast, i'd sooner put a bullet in him than try to make friends." "well, that about finishes the list of questions we've been nearly dying to ask somebody," remarked bobolink, "and seems like everything's been explained. what we want to know now, and there isn't a livin' soul c'n tell the answer to that, i reckon, is, how high is this old lake goin' to get before she commences to fall again? and how in sam hill are we expectin' to ride those motor-boats over that pile of rocks and mud, that lies in the outlet? anybody know the answer? i'd like to hear it." but they shook their heads. nobody could say, although all sorts of guesses ran the rounds, for the scouts were good hands at that sort of thing. the water was still rising, and apparently just as fast as ever. already it had encroached upon the main part of the island; and mr. jameson declared that he was sure it must be all around the shed where they kept their machinery, that had been brought secretly to this isolated spot, where they hoped to complete the greatest marvel in the way of sensations ever known to curious crowds at watering places. "it'll be badly hurt, unless the water goes down soon," remarked the big man; "but that doesn't seem to be the worst thing that can happen, if what your doctor paul here, says, turns out to be true, and the water goes out of the lake in a raging torrent that may drag boats and all with it." chapter xxx good-bye to cedar island they passed a most anxious hour, after the coming of the professor and his assistants. the lake kept on rising until pretty much all of the island except the hill was under water. of course the trees stood out, but most of their roots were under ten feet or more of water. it would not last much longer, that they knew, for the supply must be falling short, and besides there was always a chance that the fearful force exerted by such a mass of pent-up water would break away the obstruction that clogged the outlet. paul had done everything he could think of to add to their security in case the worst came. some of the scouts were even perched in the neighboring trees. these were the more timid, who paul knew were shivering from anxiety, and watching the spot where the lake water ordinarily escaped, as though dreading lest at any second they should see a sudden heave that would mean the beginning of the end. "good news, paul!" sang out jud elderkin, to whom had been delegated the duty of keeping watch on the rise of the flood. "she's stationary at last never rose a bit the last ten minutes. and believe me, i honestly think she's begun to go down just a little." the other boys let out a cheer at this news. that was what they were all hoping for--that the water would go down gradually, so as not to endanger the motorboats. just how the craft were to get out of the lake, if the exit remained closed, no one could say; but then they might look to paul to open a way somehow. he could make use of some dynamite to blow up the obstructions, so mr. jameson had suggested, and it sounded all right. five minutes later jud was quite positive that the tide was on the ebb. "two inches lower than she was at the highest point. paul!" he called out, jubilantly. "hurrah! that sounds good to me!" exclaimed bobolink, swinging his campaign hat vigorously about his head, as he sat in the bow of the _comfort_, it being a part of his task to watch the cable, and if the worst came to ease up on it so that there would be less likelihood of a sudden snap. "but we're not out of danger yet, remember," cautioned the scout master. presently the water was lowering at a still faster rate. "looks like the opening might be getting larger," said jack, when this fact was made clear beyond any doubt. "watch over there," said paul, "and see if there's any sudden rush, though already the water is escaping so fast that i begin to believe we might hold on here, even if the whole pile of earth and rocks were washed away, leaving the channel clear." five, ten, fifteen minutes crept along, and all the while the water kept going steadily down until much of the island could be seen again under the trees. "oh! look, there she goes!" cried bobolink, without warning, and thereby causing some of the fellows who had descended from the trees to wish they were aloft again. over in the vicinity of the outlet they could see something of a commotion. the water seemed to be running down hill, as it struggled to pour out through the now cleared passage. immediately the boats felt the suction, which must have been very strong indeed. they strained at their ropes, and those who had the cables in charge obeyed the instructions given to them, allowing a certain length of line to slip, thus easing the fearful drag. "whoop! they're going to hold!" exclaimed bobolink, in great glee. paul believed so himself, and a smile came to his face that up to now had looked careworn and anxious; for a dreadful catastrophe had been hovering over them, he felt certain. and the ropes did make good, holding in spite of that fierce drag. the water soon got down to about its normal level, when the pull upon the hawsers ceased, and everything seemed to settle back into the old rut. but the boys had had quite enough of cedar island. it was water-soaked now, and offered little attraction to them for camping. paul suggested that they leave the cove and head for a certain section of the main shore which, on account of being much higher than the island, had not been overflowed. there was not a single voice raised in opposition, and so they started the motors and with a series of derisive sounds that seemed almost like chuckles the boats said goodbye to cedar island. landing they found a splendid spot for the erection of the tents, and before the coming of night the scouts were as snugly fixed as though nothing had happened to disturb them. the injured professor declared that he meant to stick by paul until his messenger arrived with a carriage and a doctor by way of the road, which ran only a half mile away from the lake. he expressed himself satisfied with the work paul had done on his arm, and believed it to be the right thing. they hoped to spend a quiet night. there would be no bomb explosions in the heavens to disturb them, at least. mr. jameson had already explained to the boys that, if they had happened to be awake at the time of that first tremendous shock, they must have seen by the glare in the heavens that it was a new kind of aerial bomb that had been fired; and possibly under such conditions some one of the scouts would have guessed the truth. but when they crept out of the tents there was nothing to be seen aloft. luckily, these wide-awake boys could accommodate themselves to their surroundings. their former experiences had made most of them quickwitted, resolute and cheerful under difficulties that might have daunted most lads. although they had received a tremendous shock because of the numerous remarkable occurrences that had taken place since their landing on cedar island, now that their troubles seemed to have departed, most of the scouts were just as full of life and good-natured "chaff" as ever. bluff seemed to never tire of entertaining those who had not been fortunate enough to be among the valiant band of explorers with wonderful accounts of all they had seen. he had them holding their very breath with awe, as he described, in his own way, how they first of all crept up to the shack in the thicket and looked in upon the wild man asleep. but when bluff told of how he and his comrades had been warned off in such a dramatic manner by the unknown man, and immediately afterwards found themselves knocked down by that tremendous concussion, as the explosion took place, he had them hanging on his every sentence. but words failed bluff when he tried to picture the wild scene that had followed. that furious scamper through the wooded part of the island must remain pretty much in the nature of a nightmare with the boys. phil and bobolink and andy all eagerly chimed in, trying to do the subject justice, but after all it seemed beyond their powers. they could only end by holding up both hands, rolling their eyes, shrugging their shoulders, and then mutely pointing to the various cuts, scratches and contusions that decorated their faces. the rest had to be left to the imagination. fortunately there was an abundance of witch hazel ointment along, so that every sufferer was able to anoint his hurts. the whole bunch seemed to fairly _glisten_ from the time of their arrival at the boats. indeed, there never had been such a wholesale raid made upon the medical department since the stanhope troup of banner boy scouts was organized. but after all was said and done they had come out of the whole affair at least with honor. and now that the peril was a thing of the past they could well afford to laugh at their adventures on cedar island. chapter xxxi a scout's duty "seems like a dream; don't it, paul?" jack dropped down beside the acting scout master as he made this remark. he had just stepped out from the new camp on the mainland, and found paul sitting upon a log, looking across the water in the direction they had come. the sun was just setting, and a rosy flush filled the western heavens. it seemed to fall softly upon mysterious cedar island, nestling there in the midst of the now tranquil waters. paul looked up with a smile, as he made room on the log for his chum, who had always been so willing to stand by him through thick and thin. "well, do you know, jack," he spoke, "that was just exactly what seemed to strike me. i was staring hard at the island, and wondering if i had been asleep and dreamed all those queer happenings. fact is, just before you spoke i even pinched my leg to see if i was really wide awake." the other laughed at this. "oh! you're awake, all right, paul," he remarked. "you seemed to get off without any show of damage to your good-looking face. as for the rest of us, if ever we begin to think we've been and dreamed it, we've got a remedy better than pinching. all we have to do is to bend down over a still pool of water and take a look at our faces. that'll convince us in a hurry we _did_ have a lively time of it." paul pointed across the lake to where the island lay bathed in that wonderful afterglow that shone from the painted heavens. "did you ever see a prettier sight?" he asked. "it looks as peaceful as any picture could be. you wouldn't think a bunch of fellows could run up against such a lot of trouble over on such a fine little place as cedar island; would you, now?" "i feel the same way you do, paul; and i'd say we never ought to have left it, only after the flood it'd be a muddy place, and we wouldn't take any pleasure getting around." "oh! well," paul rejoined cheerfully, "after all, perhaps it isn't our last visit up this way. who knows but what we may have another chance to come over here and look around. it was a good scheme, i'm thinking, jack, and we'll never be sorry we came." "i should say not," remarked the other, quickly; "just turn around and take a look back into our camp. see where professor hackett is lying propped up with pillows from the boats. well, suppose we'd never come over this way, what d'ye think would have happened to him? he says he owes his life to your skill, paul, and that, try as they would, mr. jameson and the other assistants couldn't seem to stop the bleeding. that alone pays us for all we've gone through, paul." "i guess it does," paul admitted, readily, "because he's a smart man, and has done a lot to entertain the crowds that go to the seashore to rest and forget their troubles. but i'm glad none of the boys seem to have suffered any serious damage from the effect of the explosion or that mad chase afterwards." "yes, we ought to call ourselves lucky, and let it go at that," jack remarked. "when you think about all that might have happened, i tell you we've got lots of reason to be thankful," paul went on, with considerable feeling. "sure we have," added jack. "instead of that stick taking me in the cheek, it might have struck my eye and injured my sight for life." "and where i got only a wrench that may make me limp a little for a few days, i could have broken a leg," said paul. "that's one of the rules scouts have to keep in mind, you know," jack continued; "always be cheerful and look on the bright side of things. i reckon there never comes a time when you can't find a rainbow of promise if you look far enough. things are never as bad as they might be." "the boys seem to have settled down here just as if they meant to enjoy the rest of the stay," paul observed, as he turned his head again, so as to look at the bustling camp close by. "yes, and even the very air seems to tell of peace and plenty," said jack, with a little laugh, as he sniffed the appetizing odors that were beginning to announce that preparations for the evening meal had started. "you're right," agreed paul, "i guess there's nothing more 'homey' than the smell of onions frying. i never get a whiff of it on the street of a winter evening but what i seem to see some of the camps i've been in. and then, just think how it gets your appetite on edge, till you can hardly wait for the cook to call out that supper's ready. but i was thinking of some other things when you came up." "i reckon i could mention one of them," said jack. "let's hear, then," the other demanded. jack swept his hand down the lake in the direction of the outlet. "you're worrying about that," he said. "well, that's just about the size of it, jack. we know the lake's gone down to about what it was before the storm hit us; but what if a great big rock blocks the passage?" "you know what mr. jameson said you could do?" jack remarked. "about the dynamite, to blast an opening big enough for our boats to get through? yes, jack, i suppose that could be done." "and he says he'll stand by to see that it _is_ done," the other continued. "as mr. jameson is an expert at all sorts of explosives, you can just make up your mind we'll have no trouble getting away. besides, paul, i've got a feeling that when we go down in the morning to take a survey, we'll be more than pleased with the way things look." "which all sounds good to me," paul hastened to declare. "anyhow, i'm going to believe it's bound to turn out as you say. in spite of our troubles we've been a pretty lucky lot." "but you talked as though the getting away part of the business was only a part of what you had on your mind," jack went on. "there was something else," the other scout admitted. "suppose you open up and tell me, paul; because somehow i don't seem to be able to get what you mean." "it seems to me," the patrol leader remarked, seriously, "that while all of us scouts, and the professor's party in the bargain, have been shaking hands with each other over the lucky escape we had, we've pretty near forgotten one poor chap." jack gave a start, and then whistled softly. "that's right, paul," he said, "for i take it you mean the crazy islander." "how do we know what happened to him?" paul continued. "but mr. jameson seemed to feel sure he would take to the hill when the flood came," jack replied. "and he also told us, you remember, that some of their food was at a higher point than the water could have reached. so, if the crazy man wanders about that camp, there's no need of his going hungry long." "i guess that's about so," paul agreed, as though these words from his chum took away some of his anxiety. "from what they say, it seems as if he has come to look on them as friends. so, chances are ten to one he'd go to their different camps after the flood went down." "queer how he came to be here," jack remarked. "oh, i don't know," the other observed; "there's no telling what a crazy person will do. his coming to this island must have been with the hazy notion that any one searching for him couldn't find him here." "searching for him, paul?" "well, you remember mr. jameson said he had an idea the poor fellow must have escaped from some institution," jack continued. "yes, he did say that; and for all he looks so big and fierce, with his long hair and beard, he's harmless. but, jack, between us now, do you think we could go back home when our little vacation trip is over and feel that we'd done _all_ our duty as true scouts, when that poor chap had been left up here--perhaps to starve on cedar island?" "whew! you're the greatest boy i ever saw, paul, to get a grip on a situation and remember things." "but--answer my question," persisted the other. "well, what you said must be so," jack acknowledged; "and it makes me feel pretty small to remember that, while we've all been feeling so merry over our wonderful escape, i'd forgotten all about _him_." "jack, it's too late to do anything tonight, you know." "i reckon it is, paul," replied the other, looking a bit anxiously across the water to where the glow was commencing to give way to shadows along the wooded shore of cedar island; "but if you thought best, i'd be willing to take the lantern and cross over with you." paul thrust out his hand impulsively. "shake on that, old chum," he exclaimed. "your heart's as big as a bushel basket, and in the right place every time. but on the whole, jack, i don't believe it would be the wise thing for us to do." "just as you say, paul; only i wanted you to know i was ready to back you up in anything." "we're both tired, and sore in the bargain," continued the scout master, steadily. "yes," jack admitted, unconsciously caressing his painful bruises. "the island is in a bad state just now, after being flooded," paul continued. "that's right, i can jolly well believe it," his chum agreed. "and if the wild man hasn't been drowned, he'll surely be able to look out for himself a while longer. mr. jameson felt sure he wouldn't starve, with all the food they left behind." "then it won't hurt to let it go till tomorrow, eh, paul?" "i had made up my mind that we'd organize another party, this time taking some of the fellows who have been kept in camp, and comb cedar island from end to end to find that man." "a good plan, paul," said the other scout; "but do you think he'll make friends with us, even when we find him?" "mr. jameson says he understands the peace sign," the scout master continued, "and must really have had a bright mind at some time. he told me he had an idea the man may have met with some injury that had unsettled his reason. he seemed to be greatly interested in all they were doing, and several times even made suggestions that startled the professor." "i remember that much, too," said jack, "and mr. jameson also said he meant to try and learn if anybody knew about a john pennington. that was the name the man spoke once in his rambling talk." "well, perhaps we may be able in some way to do the poor fellow a good turn, jack. i hope so, anyhow. my! how those boys are trying to beat the record at getting up a grand supper. seems to me my appetite is growing at the rate of a mile a minute." "if it keeps on that way, good-bye to our stock of provisions," laughed jack; "but, to tell the truth, i feel pretty much the same. the most welcome sound i could hear right now would be bluff calling everybody to get a share of that fine mess." "then you won't have to wait long, i guess," his chum declared, "because from all the signs of dishing out i imagine they're about ready right now." paul proved a true prophet, for immediately bluff began to ding-dong upon a sheet iron frying pan, using a big spoon to produce a discord that, in the ears of the hungry boys, was the sweetest music in the world. gathering around, the scouts made a merry group as they proceeded to demolish the stacks of savory food that had been heaped upon their tin plates; and drink to each other's health in the fragrant coffee that steamed in the generous cups, also of tin, belonging to their mess chest. after supper the scouts sat around, and while some of them worked at various things in which they were particularly interested, such as developing the films that would give a dozen views of the great flood, others sang songs or listened to mr. jameson tell strange stories. the man had been to the corners of the world during a busy lifetime, often with scientific parties sent out by societies interested in geography, natural history or astronomy. and hence it had fallen to the lot of mr. jameson to experience some remarkable adventures. the boys felt that he was the most interesting talker they had ever met. after several hours had slipped by, some of the scouts, notably those who had been among the bold explorers band, were discovered to be nodding drowsily. indeed, andy and tom betts had gone sound asleep, just as they lay curled up before the fire. the warmth of the blaze, together with the unusual exertions of the day, had been too much for the boys. and so the bugler was told to sound "taps" to signify that it was time they crawled under their blankets. a few chose to sleep aboard the motor boats, which, of course, relieved the tents from overcrowding. professor hackett and his assistants had been lodged in one of the tents, which fact had something to do with the lack of room. but presently all these things had been arranged. paul himself intended to pass the night in the open. he declared he would really enjoy the experience; and two others insisted on keeping him company--little nuthin and bobolink. so paul, who knew a lot about these things, showed them just how to wrap themselves up like mummies in their blankets, and then lie with their feet to the fire. he said old hunters and cowboys always slept that way when camping in the open. chapter xxxii conclusion paul was awakened by feeling something nudging him in the ribs. it was bobolink's elbow; and, thinking at first that it might be an accident, the scout master made no move. but again he received a severe jolt. and at the same time came a whisper close in his ear: "paul! are you awake?" bobolink was saying, so low that any one six feet away could not have heard his voice. "what ails you?" asked paul. he might have imagined that the other had been taken ill, from over feeding, perhaps, and wanted paul, as the doctor of the troop, to give him some medicine. but on second thought paul realized that there was too much mystery about the action of bobolink to admit of such an explanation. "listen, paul," the other went on, still whispering, "there's some sort of wild beast goin' to raid the camp!" "what's that?" asked the scout master, a little sternly, for, knowing the weakness of bobolink in the line of practical joking, he suspected that the other might be up to some of his old tricks. and bobolink must have detected an air of doubt in the manner in which paul spoke those two words, for he immediately resumed: "honest injun, paul, i ain't foolin'! say, do they have panthers around here? because that's what i think it must be." "where'd you see it?" as paul put this question he was working his arms free from the folds of his blanket. when he lay down, more through force of habit than because he thought there would be any need of such a thing, paul had placed his shotgun on the ground beside him. and no sooner was his right hand at liberty than, groping around, he took possession of it. "up in that big oak tree," bobolink went on. "you watch where that limb hangs out over the camp and you'll see somethin' move; or i've been dreamin', that's all." paul did not have to twist his head very far around in order to see the spot in question. he watched it as the seconds began to troop along, until almost a fell minute had gone. and paul was just about to believe bobolink must have been dreaming, when he, too, saw the bunch of leaves violently agitated. undoubtedly some tree-climbing animal was up there. paul felt a thrill pass through him. unconsciously, perhaps, his fingers tightened their grip upon the shotgun, which was apt to prove a tower of strength in case the worst that could happen came to pass. straining his eyes, as he partly lifted his head, paul believed he could just make out a shadowy form stretched upon the large oak limb. he was more than puzzled. wild animals were not altogether unknown within the twenty-mile limit around stanhope. a bear might be seen occasionally--or at least the tracks of one, for the timid beast knew enough to hide in the daytime in one of the numerous swamps. but this did not seem large enough for a bear, which would have surely made a more bulky object clinging to the limb. moreover, bears were not reckoned bold, and no hunter had ever known one to come spying around a camp. as soon as the trail of human beings is run across by a bear, the animal always takes the alarm and hastens to its den, to lie low until the danger has passed. but bobolink had mentioned the magic word "panther," and this caused the other aroused scout to look more closely at the dimly seen object sure enough it did seem to be flattened out on the limb, much as paul imagined a big cat might lie. "what'd we better do about it, paul--give a yell and jump up?" bobolink asked, his voice quivering, perhaps with excitement, or it might be under stress of alarm; for it was not the nicest thing in the world to be lying there helpless with a hungry panther crouching above. "wait, and let's make sure," replied the careful paul. some impetuous boys would have thought, the very first thing, of bringing that double-barrelled gun to bear on the dark, shadowy figure, and cutting loose, perhaps even firing both charges at once. at such close range, less than thirty feet, a shell containing even bird shot is apt to be projected with all the destructive qualities of a large bullet. paul knew all about this, and also had faith in the hard-hitting qualities of his long tested gun; but he was not the one to be tempted into any rash action. "be sure you're right; then go ahead," was a motto which paul always tried to practice. he had certainly found it worth while on more than one occasion in the past, and it was likely to serve him well now. and so he waited, ready for a sudden emergency, but not allowing himself to be hurried. he soon had reason to feel very thankful that his good sense had prevailed, for presently the leaves were again set to shaking and, as they parted, paul saw something that gave him a shock. "oh! what d'ye think of that, now? it's the wild man of cedar island!" gasped bobolink, actually sitting up in his excitement. and paul had already made certain of this fact as soon as his eyes fell upon the hairy face seen among the branches. the shudder that passed through his frame had nothing to do with fear. paul was only horrified to realize what might have happened had he taken bobolink's suggestion for the truth, and fully believed the figure in the oak to be a savage panther. "we'd better let mr. jameson know," paul remarked, as he also sat up and cleared his legs of the blanket. "yes, he'll know how to get him down. i bet you, paul, the feller went and swam across from the island. but how would he guess we were here?" "oh! he could see the boats in the day time; and don't forget we've had a fire burning all night, so far," said the scout master. when mr. jameson came out of the tent, in answer to paul's low summons, and learned what had happened, he readily agreed to influence the wild man to come down. the poor fellow had learned to look on mr. jameson as a friend, and, realizing that he had abandoned the island, doubtless it was his desire to see him again that had induced this visit. he proved to be harmless, and upon being given food ate ravenously. later on it was discovered that he had launched a log and made his way to the mainland by means of this crude craft, with a branch for a paddle. mr. jameson declared that he would take the stranger to stanhope when the vehicle came for the professor, and do all in his power to learn just who he was, as well as get him safely back among his friends. to dispose of the wild man of cedar island once and for all, it might be said right here that mr. jameson kept his word. the name john pennington served as a clue, and in the end he learned that was his name. he had lost his mind through an accident and, though his case was deemed hopeless, occasionally he was apt to have little flashes of his former cleverness. he was returned to the sanitarium from which he had escaped, and the boys never heard of him again. but the memory of the wild man would always be associated with cedar island. on the following day paul and jack managed to get around to the outlet, for the scout master was anxious to learn what the chances of their leaving the lake, when they were ready, might be. they found that, just as had been believed that shoulder of rock and earth had been shaken loose by the tremor of the earth at the time of the big shock, when the professor was experimenting with some new explosive. in falling, it had indeed dammed the outlet, and the storm coming so soon after, of course the water in the lake had risen at a frightful rate. in the end the obstruction had commenced to disappear; but luckily for all concerned, it had held fairly well until much of the water had escaped, when finally it had given way. the channel was as good as ever; indeed, paul seemed to think that it offered fewer impediments to a passage now than before all this had happened. that eased the minds of the scouts, and they could go back again to their camp with good news for the others. a carriage came that day for the professor, and his assistants managed to carry him across country to the road; just as they had undoubtedly done the two big boxes of material that came from mr. stormways' mill that other day. he shook hands with each and every scout before leaving, and promised to remember them always for what they had done. when he came to paul, he clung to his hand, and there were tears in the eyes of the little professor as he, said: "i honestly believe that you saved my life, my boy, and i trust that through your ability i may be spared a few more years. and depend on it, i'm never going to let you get out of touch with me, paul morrison. i hope to live to see you a great surgeon, some day." the scouts filled out the balance of their vacation at the lake, and considered that they had had some of the strangest experiences that could happen to a group of boys; but although at the time they could not suspect it, there were still more interesting things in store for paul and his comrades of stanhope troop of boy scouts. what these were, you will find related in the next volume of this series, to be called, "the banner boy scouts snowbound; or, a tour on skates and iceboats." when the time came for them to start back, it was with more or less anxiety that they came to the canal connecting the waters of the two rivers flowing parallel for a few miles, and only a short distance apart. but they need not have borrowed trouble, for the bushkill was still higher than usual at this season of the year and all through the disused canal they found plenty of water, so that neither of the boats stuck in the mud. in good time, then, the banner boy scouts arrived home, to thrill the lads who had not been fortunate enough to accompany them on their trip afloat, with wonderful accounts of all the remarkable things which had happened to them while in camp on cedar island. produced from images made available by the hathitrust digital library.) boy scouts in glacier park books by walter p. eaton the boy scouts of berkshire--a story of how the chipmunk patrol was started, what they did and how they did it. _colored frontispiece._ _pages_. boy scouts in the dismal swamp--a story of boy scouting in the dismal swamp. _colored frontispiece._ _pages_. boy scouts in the white mountains--a story of a hike over the franconia and presidential ranges. _colored frontispiece._ _pages_. boy scouts of the wildcat patrol.--a story of boy scouting. _colored frontispiece._ _pages_. peanut--cub reporter--a boy scout's life and adventures on a newspaper. _colored frontispiece._ _pages_. boy scouts in glacier park. _pages_. _cloth bound. price_, $ . _net each_ [illustration: the great continental divide and the game trail along the top] boy scouts in glacier park the adventures of two young easterners in the heart of the high rockies by walter prichard eaton illustrated with photographs by fred h. kiser w. a. wilde company boston chicago copyrighted, , by w. a. wilde company all rights reserved boy scouts in glacier park to fred h. kiser who photographs mountains so well because he loves them so much best of companions on the high trails and around the evening camp-fire foreword glacier park is one of the newest, as well as one of the most beautiful, of our national parks. it is peculiarly fitted to be a summer playground, both for men and women who prefer to travel on horseback and "rough it" by putting up at a hotel at night, and for the true mountain lovers, who delight to use their own legs in climbing, and to sleep under the stars. this book has been written primarily to show young america just how interesting, exciting, full of outdoor adventure, and full, too, of real education, life in this national park can be. we can promise our boy readers, and their parents, too, that there isn't any "faking" in this story. the trips we tell about are all real trips, and if you go to glacier park you can take them all--all, that is, except, perhaps, the climb up the head wall of iceberg lake. you have to have a real mountaineer as a guide, with a real alpine rope, in order to make that trip. it was fortunate for tom that one came along. then, too, unless you stay in the park over the winter, you haven't much chance of riding down a mountain on a snowslide. possibly you wouldn't want to. i never knew anybody who took that trip intentionally! tom and joe and the ranger were unlucky enough to take it, and lucky enough to live to tell the tale. this book isn't written just to use the rocky mountains as a background for adventures which never really could happen to ordinary boys. it is written, on the contrary, to show what fine adventures can happen to ordinary boys, in one of the finest and most healthful and beautiful spots in this great country of ours, if only the boys have pluck, and have been good scouts enough to learn how to take care of themselves in the open. and it is written, too, in order to tell about glacier park, to make you want to go there and see it for yourself, to make you glad and proud that the united states has set aside for the use of all the public such a splendid playground, and to make you, if possible, more determined than ever to protect this, and all our other parks and state and national forests, from the attacks of the men who are always trying to get laws passed to let them spoil the meadows and the wildflowers with their sheep, or cut the forests for timber, putting their selfish gain above the welfare of the whole people. w. p. e. twin fires sheffield, massachusetts contents chapter page i. joe gets bad news about his lungs--his "pipes," as spider called them ii. joe learns how many friends he has, and achieves a tent to sleep in iii. spider finds a way to get to the rocky mountains, to "pump joe's pipes full of ozone" iv. tom and joe cross the continent with their faces glued to the car window and reach the rocky mountains v. the scouts learn why the rocky mountains have no foot-hills and arrive at many glacier vi. tom becomes boss of the tepee camp, and the scouts pitch their tents in the evergreens vii. joe gets acquainted with porcupines, the diamond hitch, and switchback trails viii. joe gets a chance at last to go out on a trip as camp cook ix. over piegan pass to st. mary lake, underneath the precipices x. the ranger tells a grizzly bear story before the camp-fire xi. to gunsight lake, and joe falls into a crevasse on blackfeet glacier xii. over gunsight to lake mcdonald, and joe and bob see a grizzly at close range xiii. in avalanche basin, where bob learns that the story of the englishman's walk before breakfast was no joke xiv. up the divide in a rain, with a lost horse on the way, and a howling snow-storm at the top xv. tom's chance for adventure comes unexpectedly, wearing hobnail shoes and carrying a rope xvi. tom goes up a two thousand foot wall, with an alpine rope, and learns the proper way to climb xvii. tom sees both mountain sheep and goats do their wild leaps down dizzy ledges xviii. joe gets good news from the doctor, and the scouts name their camp, "camp kent" xix. the indian pow-wow--tom and joe get into the squaw dance xx. the scouts start on a trip together at last, to climb chief mountain xxi. the climb up the tower of chief mountain, the indian relic on the summit and an eagle's nest xxii. a blizzard on flat top--the camp is christened "valley forge" xxiii. up to chaney glacier and the discovery of a three thousand foot precipice xxiv. the boys prepare for winter in the park, and learn why the timber-line trees are only three feet tall xxv. protecting the deer yards--the scouts wait in the moonlight and bag a mountain lion xxvi. a hundred miles in four days, over the snow, which is a long trip to get your mail xxvii. the ranger and the boys get a ride down the mountain on a snow avalanche, and don't look for another xxviii. tom starts on a long hike in the deep snow, over the divide, risking snow-slides, to save the ranger's life xxix. tom tramps down mcdonald creek in a chinook wind, and reaches shelter almost exhausted xxx. tom gets back with the doctor, and mills pulls through--then the scouts have to leave for home xxxi. home again--joe's christmas present to his mother is sound health again, and tom rejoices chapter i--joe gets bad news about his lungs--his "pipes," as spider called them "what's the matter, joe, lost all your pep?" asked tom seymour, as he slowed his pace down so that his tired companion could keep up with him. it was a saturday morning in may, and the two boys, in their scout suits, with heavy shoes on, were tramping through the woods, where the spring flowers were beginning to appear and the little leaf buds were bursting out on the trees. both tom seymour and his chum, joe clark, loved the woods, and especially in early spring they got into them whenever they could, to see how the birds and animals had come through the winter, and then a little later to watch for the flowers and see the foliage come. but this day joe seemed to be getting tired. they were tramping up a hillside, through mould softened by a recent rain, that made the footing difficult, and though joe was trying to keep up, tom realized that something was the matter. "say, joe, old scout, what ails you, anyhow?" he asked again. "oh, it's nothing," joe answered. "i've had a cold for a month, you know, and it's pulled me down, that's all. ma's giving me some tonic. i'll be all right. but i do get awful tired lately." he stopped just then and began to cough. "i wish you'd shake that old cold," tom said. "i'm getting sick of hearing you bark in school--you always tune up just as pap forbes is calling on me to translate cæsar. and if you don't shake it, you'll be no good for the team, and how's the southmead high school going to trim mercerville without you on second bag?" joe stopped coughing as soon as he could, and demanded, "well, you don't think i keep the old thing around because i like it, do you? i'll give it to anybody who'll cart it off. come on--let's forget it!" they started up the hill again, which grew steeper as they advanced, and presently tom realized once more that joe couldn't keep up. as he had to breathe harder with the increased steepness, too, he began to cough again. "say, have you been to see a doctor?" tom demanded. "oh, sure," said joe, sitting down on a rock to rest "ma had old doc jones in first week i was sick, and he gave me some stuff--tasted like a mixture of kerosene and skunk cabbage, too." "doc jones is no good," tom declared. "my father says he wouldn't have him for a sick cat. he doesn't even know there are germs. mr. rogers told me the doc thought it was foolish to make us scouts boil the water from strange brooks before we drank it. haven't you been to anybody else since, when you didn't get better?" "say, what do you think i am, a millionaire?" said joe. "i can't be spending money on fancy doctors, and get through high school, too. ma's got all she can handle now, with food and everything costing so much." "i know all that, old scout," tom answered, putting his hand on joe's shoulder. "but i guess it would cost your mother more if you were laid up, wouldn't it? now, i've got a hunch you need some good doc to give you the once over. are you tired all the time like this?" "oh, no," joe replied. "or only at night, mostly," he added. "i get kind of hot and tired at night, and i can't do much work. that's why i've been flunking cæsar. old pap thinks i'm lying down on the job, but i really ain't. i try every evening, but the words get all mixed together on the page." tom sprang to his feet with the quick, almost catlike agility which, in combination with his thin, rather tall and very wiry frame, had earned for him the nickname of spider. "you come along with me," he said. "depends on where you're going," joe laughed. "say, i'm patrol leader, ain't i?" "you are, but this isn't the patrol. we aren't under scout discipline to-day." "_you_ are," laughed tom. "you're going to do just what i tell you. come on, now!" he grabbed joe by the wrist and brought him to his feet. joe didn't resist, either, though tom expected a scrap. he came along meekly down the hill, through the wet, fragrant woods. once on the village street, spider led the way directly to mr. rogers' house, and 'round the house to the studio, and knocked on the door. the scout master opened it. he was wearing his long artist's apron, and had his big palette, covered with all the colors of the rainbow, thrust over the thumb of his left hand. "hello, spider; hello, joe," he said. "what's the trouble? has the tenderfoot patrol mutinied?" the boys came in. "no, sir, but joe's windpipes have," said tom. he quickly told about his chum's cold, and how he got tired now all the time. "now, cough for the gentleman, joe," he added with a laugh. joe laughed, too, which actually did set him to coughing. but mr. rogers didn't laugh. he looked very grave, and began to take off his apron. he washed his hands, put on his coat, and with a short, "come, boys," started down the path. there was a famous doctor in southmead who didn't practice in the town at all. his patients came from various parts of the country, to be treated for special diseases, and they lived while there in a sort of hotel-sanitorium. it was said that this doctor, whose name was meyer, charged twenty dollars a visit. the boys soon realized that mr. rogers was headed for his house. "say, who does he think i am, john d. rockefeller?" joe whispered to tom. "don't you worry," tom whispered back. "he's a friend of old doc meyer's, all right. he'll fix it. you trot along." they had to wait in the doctor's anteroom some time, as he had a patient in the office. finally he came out and greeted mr. rogers warmly. he was not a native of southmead, but had come there only two or three years ago from new york, to have his sanitorium in the country, and he had always been so busy that most of the townspeople scarcely knew him. tom and joe, while they had seen him, had never spoken with him before. he was a middle-aged jew, with gold spectacles on his big nose, and large, kindly brown eyes, which grew very keen as he looked at the boys, and seemed to pierce right through them. the scout master spoke to him a moment, in a low voice, and then he led all three into his office. it wasn't like any doctor's office the scouts had ever been in. it looked more like some sort of a mysterious laboratory, except for the flat-top office desk in the middle, and the strange chair, with wheels and joints, which could evidently be tipped at any angle, or made into a flat surface like an elevated sofa. there was a great x-ray machine, and many other strange devices, and rows of test tubes on a white enameled table, and sinks and sterilizers. the doctor patted joe on the head as if he'd been a little boy instead of a first class scout sixteen years old, going on seventeen, and large for his age. he sat joe down in a chair and asked him a lot of questions first, making some notes on a card which he took out of a small filing cabinet that was like a library catalogue case. then he told him to undress. joe stripped to the waist, and stood up while the doctor tapped his shoulders, his chest, his back, and then listened with his ear down both on his chest and back, and finally he took a stethoscope and went over every square inch of surface, front and back, covering his lungs, while he made the patient cough, say "ah," draw in a deep breath, and expel it slowly. finally he took his temperature, and a sample of sputum. meanwhile tom looked on with a rapidly increasing alarm. he knew a little something about tuberculosis, and realized it was for that he was examining his chum. he knew what a deadly disease it is, too, if it is not caught in time, and he began to feel sick in the pit of his stomach. he wanted to cry out to the doctor and demand that he tell him at once that old joe did not have this terrible disease--that he was all right, that it was nothing but a cold. but, of course, he said not a word. the doctor was putting joe on the scales now, and weighing him. "a hundred and fifteen," he said. "how's that? about your regular weight?" "guess there's something wrong with your scales," joe answered, looking at the marker. "i ought to be a hundred and thirty. 'course, i had more clothes on in the winter, last time i was weighed." "yes, and you ought to have grown some since," said the doctor. "well, you will yet. you go home and rest now--sit in the sun this afternoon, and go to bed early, with your window open. come back here to-morrow morning at ten o'clock, and i'll know more about you." "but i can't sit in the sun to-day," joe cried. "why, we've got a game this after', and i _got_ to play second." the doctor looked at him with his kindly, fatherly smile, but his voice was like a general's giving a command. "no more baseball for you for the present, my boy," he said. "you've got to keep quiet and rest, if you want to get well quickly." "how soon can he play?" tom put in, excitedly. after he had said it, he thought it sounded as if he were more interested in the team than in joe, and he was going to explain, but the doctor replied before he had a chance. "that will all depend on how quiet you make him keep," said he. "you can come back with him to-morrow if you want, and i'll tell you some more." the doctor spoke softly to mr. rogers while joe was dressing, and then the three went out. "say, he doesn't leave much of you unexplored, does he?" said joe. "what's the damage, mr. rogers? gee, i never thought i'd be swell enough to go to doc meyer!" "i guess he doesn't charge for scouts, when they really need him," mr. rogers answered. "now, joe, you go home and do what he told you. i'll be over to see your mother later, and tell her to keep an eye on you." tom went with the scout master in the opposite direction, his face very grave. "is--is--has old joey got consumption?" he managed to ask, his lips dry and a lump coming up in his chest. the scout master looked at his young patrol leader, and then put a hand over his shoulder. "the doctor won't say for certain till he's examined the sputum," mr. rogers replied, "but i'm afraid he's got the beginnings of it. now, don't take it hard, and don't say a word to joe or his mother or anybody else. he's young, and it's just beginning, and we'll pull him through in good shape, and make a well man of him again. but you must make him do just what the doctor says, and stand by him." "stand by him!" cried tom, two tears coming into his eyes in spite of himself. "say, he's my best friend, isn't he? what do you take me for?" "i take you for a good scout," said mr. rogers. chapter ii--joe learns how many friends he has, and achieves a tent to sleep in tom could hardly sleep that night, for thinking about his friend. the doctor would probably tell him he'd got to go to the adirondacks to live, or maybe to colorado or new mexico; tom knew that people with bad lungs were sent to those places. but how was joe going to get there, and how was he going to live when he got there? joe's mother was a widow, with two other, younger children, and it was hard enough for her to send joe through high school, in spite of what he earned in summer driving a mowing machine on the golf links. if he had consumption, the doctor wouldn't let him work--he would make him keep quiet. how was it going to be managed? tom kept turning over this problem in his head, till he finally fell asleep for very weariness. the next day he and mr. rogers again went with joe to dr. meyer's. on the road tom was silent and serious. "say, what's the matter with you, spider? you look as if you were going to my funeral," said joe. "yes, what's the matter with you?" mr. rogers added, giving him a sharp look which joe didn't see. "scouts are supposed to be cheerful, aren't they?" "yes, sir," tom answered, trying to grin. but he made rather a poor job of it, he was so worried and anxious. dr. meyer sat them all down in his office. "well," he said, turning to joe, "how do you feel this morning? did you keep still as i told you to?" "you bet he did!" tom put in. "we'll see, we'll see," the doctor smiled, putting a thermometer into joe's mouth, and picking up his left wrist to feel his pulse. "now, that's better than yesterday," he added, after examining the thermometer. "you see what resting does. i guess you'll have to do some more of it." "you mean i can't play second next week, either?" joe cried. "i mean you can't play second for a long time," said the doctor, gravely. "is--is there something the matter with me?" joe cried, growing a little pale. "there isn't much yet, but there will be, if you don't do what i tell you," the doctor answered. "you have a case of incipient tuberculosis, that hasn't developed enough yet so we can't cure it, and make you weigh a hundred and eighty pounds by the time you are twenty, or even nineteen. you ought to be a big man, you know. but it will all depend on you." tom was leaning half out of his chair to listen. "what must he do, doctor?" he asked, unable to keep silent. "are you going to make him do it?" the doctor smiled. "i am, or--or bust his old head," tom replied, with such heartfelt affection that both the men laughed. "do you sleep with your windows wide open at night?" the doctor asked joe. "why--i--i can't in winter, 'cause ma won't let me; it makes the room too cold for the kid, she says." "what!" dr. meyer exclaimed. "do you sleep with a small brother?" "yes, sir." "well, the first thing you do is to stop that! you must sleep in a room by yourself. it's not safe for your brother. you must sleep with the windows wide open." "couldn't he have my tent, and sleep outdoors?" tom put in. "better still," the doctor replied. "now, i'm going to make up a list of what you are to eat and drink, and a schedule of how you are to rest, and how much you can walk around." "walk around?" joe said, bewildered. "i _have_ to walk to school, and back." "no you don't. no more school for you this term," the doctor answered. joe's jaw dropped. "why--i--i--i'll not get promoted into the senior class, then!" he gasped. "oh, please, i _must_ go to school!" "good gracious, here's a boy that _wants_ to go to school!" laughed dr. meyer. "it does you credit, my son, but it can't be." "but it's been so hard for mother----" "it would be harder for her if you couldn't go to school at all--ever, wouldn't it?" said the doctor, leaning forward and laying a kindly hand on joe's knee. "yes--yes, sir," said joe, who was now pretty white and scared. "dr. meyer," tom put in, "oughtn't joe to go away somewhere to the mountains--the adirondacks, or colorado, or--or some place?" "well, he'd undoubtedly mend quicker in the rockies, if he could be looked after," the doctor replied. "i wouldn't say it's absolutely necessary in his case, but if he knows somebody out there to look after him, and can afford it----" "'course i can't afford it, spider," joe put in. "quit pipe dreamin'." "i'm not pipe dreaming," tom replied. "if you'll get well quicker in the rockies, you're going to the rockies, and i'm going along to take care of you." "how are you going to manage it, tom?" said mr. rogers. "i--i dunno, but i'm _going_ to, somehow. old joe's got to get well and finish high school, and room with me in college, and then we're going to be civil engineers or foresters, and----" "but the first thing is to get well," the doctor interrupted. "you can plan for the rockies later. right now we must see about joe's diet and daily schedule." after he had drawn these up--and it seemed to joe he'd got to live on raw eggs and milk and cod liver oil, and spend most of his life in a chair on the porch--the two boys and the scout master departed. it was now joe who was depressed and glum, and tom who needed no prompting to be cheerful. the minute he saw his chum in the dumps, he set about restoring his spirits. "buck up, old scout," he cried. "the doc told you it would be all right. gee, what's just sitting on the porch for a few weeks? you won't have to translate any old cæsar, and i'll come every day to see you swallowing cod liver oil, and then as soon as i can get it doped out, we'll hit the trail for the rocky mountains. don't you want to see the rocky mountains?" "oh, quit your kidding," poor joe answered. "the only way i'll ever see the rocky mountains is in the movies." "don't you fool yourself. mr. rogers and i'll dope out something yet, won't we, mr. rogers?" "we'll put our heads together hard, anyhow," the scout master answered. "but first, tom, we must get the scouts together and find a way in which we can all help joe's mother, now joe can't haul wood and do heavy work." "that's easy, sir. and we must teach all the scouts to stop sleeping with their windows shut, too, mustn't we?" "alas!" said mr. rogers. "i thought i had. i guess we've got to teach the mothers and fathers to let them open the windows. and that's not easy, tom." "i s'pose not. funny how afraid some folks are of fresh air. well, old joe's going to get plenty. i'm going to set up my tent in his yard this afternoon." "not your new tent, spider, it might spoil it," said joe. "spoil your grandmother," tom retorted. "i guess it's my tent and i can do what i please with it, can't i? you go home and drink a tumbler of cod liver oil." "i'm going with him, and have a talk with his mother," said mr. rogers. "you can bring the tent after dinner, and if you need a cot bed for it, stop at my house and get my folding camp cot. that'll be my contribution." "sure, we'll fix him up so he'll never want to move into the house again," cried tom, hurrying off toward his house. his tent, a christmas present from his father and mother, was tom's proudest possession. it was made of balloon silk, very thin and light, but water-proof. it could "sleep" two occupants comfortably, and had mosquito netting screens for the flaps, and a little screen curtain for the rear window. it could be erected either on poles or on a rope strung between two trees. yet the whole tent could be rolled up into a bundle which you could tuck under your arm, and it weighed but fifteen pounds. it cost a considerable sum of money, for tom's parents, while not rich, wanted to make tom a good present that last christmas as a reward for his improvement in his school work. we might as well tell the truth about it, for a story that doesn't tell the truth is sure to get found out. tom, in his sophomore year in the high school, had been a pretty poor student. he was "bright enough," as his teachers said, but he would not study. he had got interested in so many things that seemed more worth while to him than books--trapping, building a cabin in the woods, football and baseball, and especially the scouts. but after his sophomore year was over, and the summer vacation, too, was nearly done, mr. rogers called him into the studio one day and had a long talk with him. the result of that talk was that he came out pretty well ashamed of himself. here he was a patrol leader in the scouts, mr. rogers pointed out, and right end on the high school team, with the prospect of being captain his senior year--in other words, one of the leaders among the boys. it was up to him, then, to set the rest a good example. besides, he wanted to go to college, did he not, or to a forestry school? did he not know that there were examinations to be passed? and what good was a surveyor or an engineer or a forester who did not know his business? did tom think you could know your business without studying? and that did not mean beginning to study some time in the future--it meant beginning now! mr. rogers ended up by telling him he was a bad scout, a bit of a slacker, which got to him more than anything else that was said. he went out of the studio very sober, and he began to work that fall term as he had never worked in school before. of course, he soon found out that if he got his lessons every day, it was really very much easier to keep along than it had been when he used to let them slide for two or three days at a time, and then try to catch up. in fact, it was really no trouble at all, and from almost the tail end of the class, he suddenly moved up to number four. his father and mother were so delighted that they gave him the balloon silk tent for christmas. as soon as dinner was over, he got this tent out of his closet, wrapped in its canvas bag, took his scout axe and some sticks from the wood-shed to make pegs with, and started for joe's house. on the way he stopped for mr. rogers' folding cot bed. he found joe sitting on the back porch, in the sun, and he made him stay there, though poor joe wanted to come down and help set the tent up. there were two trees in the back yard, and between them tom strung a double strand of clothesline, through the rings on the top of the tent. then he carefully raked the ground below, and with a shovel filled in a little hollow so that the rain water would drain away and not come in under. then he stretched the tent, cut his pieces of wood into pegs, and pegged it down. after that, he unfolded and set up the cot bed, and with the help of joe's mother made up the bed with blankets, put an old rug on the ground beside it, brought out an old chair, a small table, a candlestick and candle, and a washbowl and pitcher. "there!" he cried. "that's good enough for anybody. now, old cod liver, you can sleep outdoors, rain or shine." joe insisted on coming down to see his "new room," and while they were inspecting it three of the moose patrol came into the yard. they had heard the news about joe--"by wireless, i guess," tom said, for he had not told anybody except his own father and mother--and had come to see what they could do to help. "say, that's some swell bedroom, joe," said bob sawtelle. "wish i had one like it. ma wouldn't always be callin' me down for spillin' water on the wall paper." "what do you mean, spillin' water on the wall paper?" joe demanded. "what do you do, throw it around the room?" "aw, no, but a feller splashes around washin' his face, and dumpin' the bowl into the slop basin, don't he?" "i guess you do," tom laughed. "do you fellows really want to help old joey?" "that's what we're here for," said all three. "all right, we'll get the kindlings split for the next week, and the coal brought up for mrs. clark. where's the axe, joe?" joe showed them, and the four boys went at the wood-pile and the coal bin. they split enough kindlings to last at least a week, filled up the wood-box by the kitchen stove and piled more wood behind it and carried up three hods of coal besides a big basket full. "you're awful good to do this for joe and me," said mrs. clark. "oh, that's what scouts are for," tom declared. "some of us are going to come around every day and 'tend to things, so old joey can mind the doctor, aren't we, fellows?" "sure thing." "ra-_ther_." "you bet." "say, spider," walter howard suggested, "you ought to call a scout meeting and get everybody in on this--divide it up so one scout comes every day for a week on his way home from school. why, old joe'll be well again before we've all had a turn!" "that's what i'm going to do, walt, tuesday night. pass the word along." "i know what my old man's goin' to say," bob remarked. "well, what's he goin' to say? spring it." "he's goin' to say, 'if you boys were asked to split kindlings for your own mothers every day, you'd put up an awful holler.'" "oh, sure, mine too," laughed walt. "they always say that. seems as if they thought we were splitting kindlings because we liked to split kindlings, instead of because we like old joey." "that's the dope," said tom. "funny how folks don't see things sometimes." "ain't it?" said bob. "well, so long, joe, old scout. hope you sleep well in the tent." "so long, bob." "so long"--from the others. "so long, fellows--much obliged." only tom was left. "it's pretty nice to have so many friends," said joe, "even if you have to get sick to find it out." "now you've found out, you get well again," spider laughed. "i'll stop on my way to school in the morning and see you, and find out what books you want brought home. so long, old top." "so long, spider." tom went out of the gate, or, rather, over it, vaulting it with one hand. joe's mother came out on the porch and put one arm around the boy's neck, and with the other hand felt his forehead. "i don't think you've got so much fever to-night," she said. "it's 'cause the fellers have cut all the wood and hauled the coal, that used to make me so tired. gee, they're good scouts, aren't they, ma--'specially old spider." "yes, joe," said she, "there are a lot of good people in the world." "you bet," said joe. chapter iii--spider finds a way to get to the rocky mountains, to "pump joe's pipes full of ozone" there are no doubt a lot of good people in the world, as mrs. clark said, but there is no doubt that a great many of them are forgetful. tom seymour found this out in the next few weeks. the scouts meant well, but every two or three days the one whose turn it was to look after the clark wood and coal and do whatever heavy work there was to be done,--work too heavy for joe's little brother and sister--would forget the duty. tom, however, never forgot, for he went there every day, to study his lessons with joe so joe could keep up in his school work, and when the kindlings had not been split or the coal brought up, he did it. "i don't know what i should do without you, tom," said mrs. clark. "i feel guilty, too, because i feel as if you ought to be at home doing it for your own mother." tom laughed. "it's a funny thing," he said, "but having this on my mind has stopped my forgetting at home. i used to forget all the time, but now, when i go home, ma's wood-box is the first thing i think of. i kind of got the habit, i guess!" meanwhile tom was turning over and over in his mind plans for getting joe out into the high, dry air of the rocky mountains as soon as school was over. the first thing to think about was how to raise the money to get there. in his own case, it would be easy, because he had over a hundred dollars in the savings bank, which he had earned in the past five years, or which had been given to him at christmas, and which he had saved up. but joe had never been able to save his earnings--he had needed them all for his clothes and to help his mother out. it was bob sawtelle who solved that problem. "let's us scouts give a dance and a strawberry festival for old joey," he said. "we can all of us pick some strawberries, enough for the feed, an' get our mothers to make cake, an' bill andrus's father'll give us the cream from his dairy, an' the girls'll help us serve, an' everybody'll come when they know it's for old joey, an' there'll be two hundred people there, an' we'll soak 'em fifty cents, and that'll clear 'most a hundred bones, an'----" "and you'd better take in some breath," laughed tom, "while i tell you that's a fine idea. it's as good as settled now." tom was so sure of the success of the strawberry festival, in fact, that he began at once to consider what they were going to do when they got out west. here he had to have mr. rogers' help. the scout master wrote some letters, and a week later called tom into the studio. "i think i've got it," he said, "that is, if you are willing to work, and don't care what you do." "that's me, when it's for old joey," spider declared. "well, here's the proposition. ever hear of glacier national park?" "i've seen some pictures of it in a magazine," said tom. "looked good to me, too!" "i guess it's a pretty fine place, though i was never there. it is up in the northwestern part of montana, on the great northern railroad, and there are two big hotels in the park, right under the mountains, and some smaller hotels they call chalets, because they are built like swiss chalets. a friend of mine who is connected with the railroad tells me these hotels, which open late in june, always need bell-boys. they are so far from any cities, or even any towns of any sort, that it's hard to get labor out there. now, i guess you could get a job as bellhop all right, though i don't know whether joe's strong enough to work yet. we'd have to ask the doctor first. if he isn't, my plan would be for you to take your tent along, and two folding cot beds, and get permission to pitch it out in the woods near the hotel. you wouldn't have any other use for your money out there, so you could probably support joe all right, and he could do the cooking. he's a good cook, isn't he?" "sure--the best in the patrol. he's got a merit badge for cooking, you know." "of course, they might object to having a tuberculous person in the hotel, but if he kept out in the woods, there wouldn't be any trouble, my friend says. besides, joe isn't a bad case. he's plainly getting better all the time. i think we can fix it, if you are willing to take the job, and look after him. being a bellhop isn't just the job i'd pick out for you, or any boy, if i had the choosing. you have to be a bit of a bootlick, and people will give you tips, which is against all scout rules." "but the tips won't be for me, they'll be for old joey," said tom. "exactly. and they will be given to you for work you do. they will really be your pay, for you won't get much other pay. it all depends on how you take them. if you serve people who don't give you tips as well and as cheerfully as you serve the others, it will be all right. we've got to get joe well, and we can't pick and choose. so i'll put it up to you. i guess i can trust you not to become a tip hog. and if you find any better way to earn joe's keep out there, where you won't have to take tips to get your living, you take it, won't you?" "you bet i will!" cried tom. "maybe i can become a--a cowboy, or something." mr. rogers smiled. "you'll have to learn to ride a horse first." "oh, i can ride a horse." "you may think you can, but after you've seen a real cowboy ride, you'll know you're only in the kindergarten class," the scout master laughed. now that it seemed reasonably sure that he could get joe to the rockies, and find a way to live after they got there, tom went at the task of arranging the strawberry festival. of course, he made bob sawtelle chairman of the "festival committee," because it was bob's idea to start with. all the scouts whose fathers or mothers had strawberry beds were "rounded up," and a list made of how many baskets could be expected. little tim sawyer, who was clever with a pencil or brush, made several posters to hang in the post-office and the stores. spider himself wrote some notices for the weekly paper. mr. martin, who owned martin's block, where the festival was to be held, promised them the hall rent free, and as the cream was promised to them, also, and the cakes were made by the mothers, about all they had to buy was the sugar. "oh, we're forgetting the drinks!" bob suddenly cried, "and the music! we can't have a dance without music." some of the high school girls, joe's classmates, promised to furnish the fruit punch, and serve it, too, so that was easily settled. the music--a pianist and two violins--the boys hired from a near-by town, at a cost of fifteen dollars. with the sugar and a few other little expenses, their total outlay was about twenty dollars. the affair was so well advertised, however, and all the scouts went around selling tickets for so many days in advance, that when the evening came (it was a fine night, too, in june), there were two hundred and fifty people in the hall, and the scouts who took tickets at the door were kept busy till their fingers ached. the strawberries were all used up, and bob and tom had to rush out to the drug store to buy ice-cream for some of the late comers. that cut into part of their profits, but of course they could not refuse to give something to eat to the people who had paid for it. when the hard work of serving all these people was over, and the dancing had begun, bob and tom took all the money into a back room, and counted it up. with the musicians and the sugar paid for, and the ice-cream from the druggist's, there was left a little over ninety dollars clear profit. "hooray!" cried tom, "that'll get old joey to glacier park easy! now, if i could only hear from my application for a job, we'd start next monday. school is over. gosh, there's no sense hanging 'round here." "bet you hear to-morrow," said bob. "i wish i was going, too, spider." "come along," cried tom. "it's going to be great. i'm going to get a job as a guide, or something, when i get out there and learn the ropes, and climb all over the mountains and maybe see a goat or a grizzly bear!" "well, you bring me a bearskin for a rug, and we'll call it quits," bob answered. "i guess next year i'll get up a strawberry festival for myself. maybe i can get sick, or something, this winter." "a lot you can, you old fatty," tom laughed. "you look about as sick as--as a pig before killing." bob nearly upset the pile of money, trying to reach for tom's head, to punch it. sure enough, the very next day tom did hear from his application. he rushed over to mr. rogers' studio. "look," he cried. "i get a job all right, but i don't know just what it means. it says i'm to be in charge of the many glacier tepee camp, if i turn out to be big enough, and suit the boss. otherwise, i'll be a bellhop in the many glacier hotel. i'll get forty dollars a month and board at the camp. what's a tepee camp?" "you know as much about it as i do," the scout master said. "i suppose it's a camp composed of indian tepees, which the hotel rents to people who'd rather camp out than stay inside. anyhow, i hope you get that job, for i don't like to think of one of my scouts taking tips all the time, the way a bellhop gets to do. it's un-american. probably joe could help you 'round the tepee camp, anyway with the cooking. and speaking of joe, the first thing we must do is to take him 'round to dr. meyer's again, and find out just what he can and can't do, and what you've got to feed him, and so forth. suppose we go right now." the doctor gave joe another thorough examination, from head to foot, and then put him on the scales. he smiled as the weight had to be pushed twelve pounds beyond where it hung in may. "you see what rest, food and minding the doctor does," said he. "well, my boy, you're on the mend. as a matter of fact, there isn't very much the matter with you now except a weakened condition and, of course, a tendency to relapse without proper care. a year in the rocky mountains ought to make a well man of you." "a year!" joe exclaimed. "we're only going for the summer." "well, the summer will help," said the doctor. "keep on eating your milk and eggs, if you can get 'em, but probably after you've been in the woods a while you won't worry much about your food--you'll gobble what you can get, and so long as you feel right, go ahead. i'll give your friend a clinical thermometer to take your temperature, and you must get weighed once in so often. it wouldn't be a bad idea to have a doctor look you over now and then, too, if one comes into the park. the things you must look out for are over-exertion and exposure. i wouldn't do anything but light work for a month yet, at least, and no climbing or long walks. if you must go somewhere, go on horseback, at a slow pace. and keep warm and dry." "well, joe, that's a fine, encouraging report!" the scout master declared as they left. "you keep on minding the doc, and you'll be a well man." "he'll keep on minding him, all right, all right," said tom, putting his arm around joe's shoulder, and then tightening it around his neck till joe's head was forced over where he could give it a friendly punch. joe started to duck and punch back, but spider cried, "here--cut that out! no over-exertion!"--and then the three laughed and hurried on, to make arrangements for the departure of the boys. clothing, of course, was the most important thing, and the boys got out their trunks and selected what they would need, with the aid of a folder describing conditions in the park. they took their scout suits, of course, with leggins, and their heaviest high boots. tom also added a box of steel spikes and a key to screw them in with. they also took their sweaters, and mackinaws, though it seemed foolish to be taking mackinaws for a summer trip. then they packed two suits of winter underwear, several pairs of heavy wool socks for tramping, two flannel outing shirts, and rubber ponchos, which both boys had bought the year before when the scouts took a five day hike. then, of course, they took their knapsacks, and both boys sent for dunnage bags of stout canvas. they took their scout axes and cooking kits, knives, tom's camera, compasses, and notebooks to keep diaries in. tom had a folding camp lantern for which they got a box of candles. for bedding, each packed two pairs of heavy double blankets, and joe's mother insisted on making a separate bundle of a winter bed puff, which, as it turned out later, he was glad enough to have. they also put in their winter pajamas, their scout hats, and some old leather gloves. finally, they got some packages of dehydrated vegetables, soup sticks, powdered egg, army rations, and tabloid tea, to use on walking trips if joe got strong enough to tramp. such condensed and light weight rations, mr. rogers thought, probably could not be purchased in the park. it was a lovely day, almost at the end of june, when the two boys finally started. there had been a scout meeting the night before, at which bob sawtelle, who was to act as patrol leader in spider's absence, had made a speech for the rest and presented joe with a pocket camera, the gift of the entire troop. it was a short speech, but to the point. "old joey's pipes have gone on the blink," he said, "and he's got to beat it out west to pump 'em full of ozone. we other fellers thought we'd like to see what he's seen, when he gets back, so we all chipped in and got a camera. here it is, joe, and don't try to snap spider with it, or you'll bust the lens." joe tried to make a speech in reply, but he couldn't do it. he just took the camera, and said, "gee, fellows, you're--you're all to the good." "and don't you worry about your mother's coal, either," bob added. "we're going to keep right on fillin' the hods, and if anybody forgets when it's his turn, i'm goin' to beat him on the bean." "that's a good one," cried little sam cowan. "you forgot yourself yesterday!" "well, i ain't goin' to forget any more, or let you, either," bob answered. bob and several more scouts, as well as mr. rogers, joe's mother and little brother and sister, and tom's family, were all down at the depot to see the boys off in the morning. there were kisses and some tears from the women, and a scout cheer from the boys, and cries of "have you got your axe, spider?" and "joe, dear, are you sure you put in your comb and brush?" and "tom, dear, now don't forget to send mother a postcard just as soon as you get there," and "say, joey, bring home a rocky mountain sheep's head for the clubroom," and "hi, spider, don't forget a grizzly bear rug for me, so my little tootsies won't be cold when i hop out of bed." the train came, the boys got aboard, it pulled out, and looking back they saw their friends and parents on the platform, waving good-bye, and the church spires and housetops of their village vanishing into the june green of the tree tops. "well," said tom, "we're off for the rocky mountains!" joe rubbed his eyes. "sure we are!" he answered. "i kind of hate to leave ma, though, and the kids." tom slapped him on the shoulder. "sure you do," he said. "but it's so you can come back a husky, well man, to look out for 'em better than ever. don't you forget that, old scout!" chapter iv--tom and joe cross the continent with their faces glued to the car window and reach the rocky mountains neither tom nor joe had ever been west before, even as far as chicago. as soon as they had changed cars to the through train, not far from their home town, each armed with a ticket about a yard and a half long, and got settled in their seats in the sleeping car, they glued themselves to the windows, and watched the country. there was something new to see every minute--the berkshire hills, the hudson river at albany, the great factories at schenectady, the mohawk river and the erie canal, utica, syracuse, rochester, buffalo. they slept soundly that night, and woke up as they were passing along the southern shore of lake michigan. in chicago they had to change cars again, to another station, and they had time, after seeing that their baggage was transferred, to walk around a little, among the high buildings, and out to the lake front. "it's an awful dirty place, strikes me," said joe. "all the buildings look as if somebody had spilled soot over 'em." "i guess somebody has," tom answered. "i guess they burn soft coal here. the air's full of it. wait till we get to the rockies, though; there's the air!" the trip from chicago to st. paul was even more interesting than the first stage, because after a while the train followed the bank of the mississippi river (the scouts had a railroad folder with a map spread out in their seat, to see where they were every minute), and there was something thrilling to both of them about the first sight of the great river, which they had heard about all their lives. "say, it's yellow, all right," joe exclaimed. "i'd rather go swimming in our old hole back home, i guess. it ain't so awful big, either." "not way up here. we're a thousand miles from the mouth. but you'd better not try to jump it, even here--not till you get well," tom laughed. at st. paul they changed once more, for the final train, the trans-continental limited which would take them right through to the park. "golly, we won't see any of minnesota," tom complained. "it'll be dark while we go through that. and look at all those lakes we pass." he pointed to the map. "well, there has to be night as well as day out here, just like home. i guess we can't do anything about it," said joe. "i'm kind o' glad to sleep, at that." "poor old joe, i forget you get tired," tom cried, penitently. "seems to me i _never_ want to go to sleep, with so much to see!" "oh, i'm not tired any more,--just sleepy," joe said, bravely. but tom saw he was tired, and called the porter to make up the berths. they woke up in the prairie country of north dakota--or, rather, spider did. he was sleeping in the upper berth, of course, so joe could have all the air possible, and he climbed down as quietly as he could and went into the observation car to see where they were. it was bright sunlight, almost as it would be at home at eight o'clock, yet his watch told him it was only a little after four. he looked out of the window on a strange land--on the prairies about which he had read all his life and never seen before. he had been disappointed in the mississippi river, but there was no disappointment here. they were more wonderful than he had ever dreamed--just one endless green sea of growing wheat stretching to the horizon, without a hill or a valley, as flat as the floor of the ocean. indeed, they looked like a green ocean, with the small houses, the big red barns and silos, the little groves of trees behind the barns for a windbreak, rising like islands every mile or so. the whole world here seemed to be grain. everything was under cultivation, there were no trees at all except the groves planted beside the farmhouses, mile after mile as far as the eye could see to the far horizon rolled the sea of young wheat, or else the golden stubble where the winter crop had been harvested. for the first time, tom understood what men mean when they speak of "the great wheat fields of the west," for the first time he realized the bigness of america. he wanted to go wake joe at once, and if joe hadn't been sick, he certainly would have done so. as it was, he let him sleep till six, and then he couldn't stand it any longer, and shook him awake. "joe! we're on the prairie!" he cried. all that day, mile after mile, they traveled through the wheat, with never a break in the vast monotony of the level land, the endless procession of houses and barns far off, like islands in the green sea. the sun did not set till late, and even at nine o'clock they could read on the back platform of the observation car, as the prairie turned dusky, and in the west the lingering sunset was like a sunset over the sea. "my, it's been a wonderful day!" joe sighed, as they went to bed. "i feel as if i'd just been soaked in _bigness_. i guess the rockies aren't any bigger than these prairies. but what gets me, though, is how the kids here go sliding in winter." a man on the platform beside them laughed. "say, i never saw a toboggan till i went east after i was twenty-one years old," he said. "but i've seen some drifts that were twenty feet high, and that's quite a hill for us." the next morning tom again was the first awake, and he hurried out to see the prairie once more--but there was no prairie. the world looked exactly as if there had come a great wind or earthquake in the night and kicked the calm prairie sea up into waves. there were still no trees, only a great expanse of grayish grass and wild flowers, but you couldn't see far from the train in any direction, because the land was so cut up with the billows, little rounded hills and earth waves maybe fifty feet high. this was the cattle country now, and every little while a rough log cabin and log stables, half dug out of the side of a bank, would appear beside the track, and there would be cattle and horses grazing over the slopes. again spider waked joe, and they watched for a cowboy, but none appeared. as they were eating an early breakfast, the train seemed to be running into more level prairie country again, though it never settled back into the really flat prairies. presently they stopped at a little town, with a single street of low wooden and brick stores and houses, and no trees, and the two scouts got out to stretch their legs. the first thing they saw as they alighted was a cowboy! clad in a flannel shirt, with big black fur chaps down his legs and a wide-brimmed felt hat mysteriously sticking on his head, he came dashing up about a mile a minute, kicking up a tremendous dust, and pulling his horse down with a quick sweep that stopped him exactly against the platform. the boys were so interested in him that it was not till they were getting aboard again, at the conductor's shout, that joe looked to the west, and cried, "spider, quick! look there!" tom followed his finger, and, lo! there they were, the rocky mountains! as far to the north, as far to the south, as the eye could see stretched the great, blue procession of towering peaks, dazzling white with great patches of snow on summits and shoulders, and seemingly only a few miles away. "and we could have seen 'em _hours_ ago, if we'd only been looking ahead," joe complained, as they took their seats on the observation platform. "they can't be more'n ten miles off now." a big, heavy man who was sitting there laughed loudly. "guess you ain't never been out here before, have you?" he asked. "no, we never have." "well, this train's making thirty miles an hour, and we got three hours to go yet before we get to them hills," he went on. "you chaps remind me of a story, about a friend o' mine who was prospectin' up here before the government made a park out o' glacier. an englishman came along one day, and he started out to walk to the base o' one o' them mountains before breakfast, so my friend, bein' just naturally curious, allowed he'd go along too. fust, though, he sneaked out and got a bite o' grub. well, they walked and walked till along about ten o'clock, and the mountain not gettin' any nearer. by'mby they come to a brook a baby could have jumped, and the englishman started to peel off his clothes. "'what in blazes be you goin' to do?' asked my friend. "'well,' said the bally britisher, 'that _looks_ like a brook, but i ain't taking no chances.'" tom and joe laughed. "i've always heard you could see awfully plain out here," said tom. "it must bother you at first sighting a gun." "i reckon it does bother a stranger. i seen fellers sight for a goat at four hundred yards, when he was a clean eight hundred, and kick up the dust on the rocks twenty feet below him." "have you hunted goats?" the boys demanded. "what i've not hunted, _ain't_," said the man. "i don't know what folks want goats for, though. they're the hardest work to get, and no good when you get 'em. a bighorn, now!" "what's a bighorn?" asked joe. the man looked at him in profound surprise. "by glory, don't you know what a bighorn is?" he demanded. "where do you come from, anyhow? a bighorn's a rocky mountain sheep, the old ram of the flock, with horns fifty inches long that curl around in a circle, and he's the handsomest, finest, proudest lookin' critter god almighty ever made. wait till you see one!" "do you think we can see one in the park this summer?" the boys asked. "if you climb up a cliff about seven thousand feet and make a noise like a bunch o' grass, i reckon maybe you can," said the stranger. the next three hours were about the longest the boys had ever spent. they went back into the sleeper as soon as the berths were moved out of the way and they could sit at the window, and with their faces glued to the pane strained their eyes ahead to see the mountains. whenever the road made a curve, they could see them plainly, a vast, sawtooth range of blue peaks, some of them sharp like pyramids, some of them rounded into domes, marching down out of the north and stretching away to the south as far as the eye could see. not only were they bigger mountains than the scouts had ever seen, even on a trip the year before to the white mountains in new hampshire, but all over them, on their summits, in great patches on their sides, sometimes quite covering an entire peak, were great fields of snow. here it was about the th of july, with flowers blooming in the grass beside the track and a blazing hot sun in the heavens--and the mountains just out there covered with vast fields of snow! "gee, i wish the old engineer'd put on some steam!" sighed joe. "i wish he would," tom answered. "but i guess that snow ain't all going to melt before we get there. say, joe, why do you suppose that range goes right up out of the prairie without any foot-hills? remember, when we went to the white mountains we got into smaller mountains long before we reached washington? they went up like steps. but here the rockies just jump right up out of the plain." "i don't know--wish i'd studied geology. maybe the guy who had the friend who walked with the englishman can tell us." tom shook his head. "i have a hunch he knows more about goats than geology," said he. "maybe we can get a book at the park." the mountains were now getting perceptibly nearer. they were becoming less blue, the snow showed more plainly on their sharp peaks and great shoulders, and the boys began to pack up their handbags and get ready to disembark. their rear-platform friend, coming through the car, stopped and laughed. "don't go trying to jump no brooks, now," he said. "sure--we'll throw a stone first," spider answered. "can you tell us why the rocky mountains haven't any foot-hills?" the stranger seemed to take this very seriously. "they did have once," said he, "but they was all dug away for the gold and copper." then he passed on, still laughing. "he's a good scout," laughed joe. "but i'd hate to have him for a geology teacher," tom answered. the mountains didn't seem much nearer than they had looked for half an hour when the train finally rolled up to the glacier park station and stopped. the boys, together with several tourists, got off, and the minute they stepped on the platform they felt how much cooler it was than back in st. paul, and how much purer the air. "take a big lungful, joey," tom cried. "this is the real old ozone!" the station is at the gate of the mountains, where the railroad enters the pass which takes it through the range. the mountains here do not look very high, for you are so close under that you do not see much of them. the boys looked up at a ragged wall to the north, covered first with fir timber and then with snow patches on the reddish rocks. behind them to the east, they looked out over the rolling plains. close by the station was a big hotel, several stories high, but built entirely of huge fir logs. even the tall columns in front were single logs. "i suppose i go up there and report," said tom. "let's see if our baggage is all here, first" they found the baggage on the platform, and set out for the hotel, passing on the way an indian tepee, with pictures painted on the outside, and smoke ascending from the peak. this was the home of old chief three bears, the boys learned, a blackfeet indian who lives here by the hotel in summer, and welcomes arriving guests. he was coming down the path, in fact, as the boys walked up, a tall indian, over six feet, and looking taller still because of his great feathered head-dress. he was very old, but still erect, though his face was covered all over with tiny wrinkles. the two scouts stopped and saluted him. old three bears smiled at them, and grunted, "okeea" (with the accent on the first syllable, and the _ee_ and _a_ sounds slid together). then he held his blanket around him with his left hand, and putting out his right, solemnly shook both boys by their hands. "say, the old chief's got a big fist, all right," said joe, as they went on. "i'll bet he was strong once." "he must 'a' been good looking, too," said tom. "i didn't know indians were so big and--and sort of noble looking." they now entered the great lobby of the hotel, which, like the outside, was all made of fir logs, with tremendous trunks, bark and all, used as the columns clear to the fourth story. hunting out the manager, they learned that they were to take the motor bus for many glacier hotel in fifteen minutes, and they just had time to go to the news stand and secure a government map of the park and a government report about its geology, before turning in their baggage checks and climbing aboard the bus, a four-seated motor something like a "seeing new york" automobile. this bus was full, three on a seat, and a moment later the driver cranked his engine, gave a toot on his horn, and they were off. chapter v--the scouts learn why the rocky mountains have no foot-hills and arrive at many glacier they had about fifty miles to go, northward, straight away from the railroad. it was a clear, lovely day, the air so transparent that you could apparently walk to the top of one of those mountains in an hour or two. "gee, i know now how that englishman felt," joe laughed. the road was not what would be called a good road, or even a decent road, in the east, as it was only a track in the grass, full of sand and sharp little stones; it did not lead into the mountains at all; it ran along just to the east of the great range, over the bare, rolling hills of the prairie, so that from the motor bus you could see the entire mountain wall, mile after mile. what a wonderful wall it was, too! it sprang right up out of this rolling green prairie, a great procession of peaks, and now they were so near the boys could see they were not blue at all, but every color of the rainbow, with red predominating. up their sides for a way stretched timber--all evergreen, and not very big--and then came the rocks--red rocks, yellow rocks, gray rocks, white rocks, in long horizontal strata, and in the ravines and hollows on the slopes great patches of snow stretching down from the snow caps on the summits like vast white fingers. as they sped along, every eye in the motor fixed on the mountains, a man in the front seat pointed ahead to a huge red mountain which stood out eastward from the range, a noble mountain shaped like a tremendous dome. "that's old rising wolf," he said. "rising wolf!" said tom. "that's a good name. it's indian, i suppose?" "it's indian, but it was the name of a white man," the first speaker replied. "it was the name the indians gave to hugh monroe. he's buried almost under the shadow of that mountain. pretty good monument, eh?" "i don't believe anybody'll move it," joe laughed. "who was hugh monroe?" "hugh monroe," said the man on the front seat, who evidently knew a lot about the park, "was probably the first white man who ever saw those mountains. he was born in montreal in . he entered the hudson bay company when he was only seventeen, about as old as you boys, i guess, and was sent way out into the blackfeet indian country on the saskatchewan river. monroe was assigned to live with the indians, and learn their language, and the next winter-- --he went southward with them, following along near the base of the range, crossed what's now the boundary line, and came here. he even went on farther, to the yellowstone. monroe stayed with the blackfeet all the rest of his life. he married a squaw, and got an indian name--makwiipowaksin--or rising wolf----" "i guess i'll always say it in english," spider laughed. "after a while," the man went on, laughing too, "the blackfeet came down here to live. we are going through part of their reservation now, and the whole park was bought from them by the government. this was all their hunting ground, and right here, in two medicine valley that you see leading in beside rising wolf mountain, and in the cut bank and st. mary's valley we'll soon come to, hugh monroe hunted moose and elk and buffalo and silver tips, and he killed sheep and goats up on the slopes. he used to tell me how he had a cabin by st. mary lake (we get there in an hour) once, and had to stand off a raid of hostile indians for two days--he and his wife and children. he's often told me, too, how he and the blackfeet used to drive the buffalo over the cut bank river cliffs. the buffalo would stampede, and not seeing the cliffs ahead, would all go crashing over." "_he_ told you?" cried joe, incredulous. "say, how old are you, anyhow? i thought you said he came here in --that's a hundred years ago." again the man laughed. "rising wolf was buried in ," he answered. "he was ninety-eight years old. we folks out in the montana mountains" [he pronounced montana with the first _a_ short, as in _cat_] "live a good while, son. it's the air. i can remember him well, and a fine old figure he was, a real pioneer, like daniel boone and the chaps you've read about in school. yes sir, he's got a good monument." and the man looked up again at the great red dome of rising wolf mountain, towering over them. "ask him about there being no foot-hills," joe whispered, nudging tom. "can you tell us why there aren't any foot-hills to this range?" tom asked. "of course, all this prairie here is rolling and high, but it's not really little mountains. the main range just jumps right up without any warning." "yes, i've been wondering about that, too," put in a man on the seat behind the boys. "i wish you would explain it." the man on the front seat laughed. "i seem to be the park encyclopædia," said he. "well, i hunted in these mountains before the government ever thought of making a park of 'em, and i'm glad to tell you all i can. i'll tell you just as it was told to me by one of the government chaps that came out here--a scientist. he was looking for prehistoric animal fossils up in the belly river cañon, and he sure knew a lot. it was this way--all the prairies, he said, and all the land west of here, was once the bottom of the sea, or a lake, or something, and finally it pushed up and became land, and then, as the earth crust went on contracting, it cracked." the man now put his hands together, spread flat side by side, and pushed them one against the other. "the crack formed from north to south," he said, "and as the contraction went on something had to give, just as something has to give if i push my hands hard enough. see----" he pushed harder yet, and his left hand slid up over the back of his right. "that's what happened here. one edge of the earth crust, thousands of feet thick, rose right up and slid east a dozen miles or more, and then stopped. i believe the scientific fellers call that a fault. they call the eastern edge of this range the lewis overthrust, because that's where the overlapping stopped. look--you can see all along here the precipices where the crust stuck out over the prairie, and all those parallel lines of different colored rocks are the different layers in the old crust. they find the skeletons and fossils exposed in 'em, which would be buried two or three thousand feet if you had to dig down." "but what i don't see," joe said, "is why the top isn't just level? why are there any peaks and valleys?" "it happened a few million years ago, son," the man laughed. "i suppose things were some broken up at the first crack, and since then glaciers have come grinding down, and rains have fallen, and snows melted, and frosts cracked, and the ice and water have washed out cañons and carved the peaks. the high point was right where the undercrust stopped, back a dozen miles or more from the edge of the overthrust, so that became the divide. that's pretty near level in places even to-day. but east and west the running water has carved out long valleys and left harder rock sticking up as peaks. up farther north old chief mountain sticks right out into the prairie, a tower of limestone, with everything else around it carved right away." "i get you," said joe. "i bet i'd have studied geography harder if i'd had these mountains to look at while i was doing it!" the man in the seat behind laughed. "there must have been some shake up when the crack formed, and these six thousand feet of crust came up over." "i'd rather been some place else than standin' right on 'em," said the man in front. the motor presently rolled through rather thick pine timber, up over a high ridge, and down into a valley. "that's divide mountain to the left," said their guide. "behind it is triple divide peak. from the peak, the water flows to three oceans--west to the pacific, east to the missouri river, the mississippi and the gulf of mexico, northeast to canada and hudson bay. from here on all the brooks we cross are bound for hudson bay and the arctic ocean." in a short time they came to the foot of a lovely lake, and stopped at a group of buildings, built like swiss chalets, on the shore. "st. mary lake," their impromptu guide said. "a lot of people think it's the most beautiful lake in the world, but you have to get to the upper end to see its full beauty. it runs twelve miles, right up to the foot of the great divide. that's going-to-the-sun mountain you can just see the peak of on the right." the scouts looked far up the dancing, wonderfully green-blue waters of the lake, to the tip of a vast pyramid of rock, blue with distance. "is that an indian name? it's pretty," said joe. "no," the man answered. "a french missionary priest, who came here with hugh monroe back in the 's named the lake st. mary lake, and then he went on up it, and over the pass to the west, into the setting sun. so monroe named the mountain going-to-the-sun mountain. but, of course, it was really indian in a way, because if monroe hadn't lived with the indians he wouldn't have thought of such a poetic name." the boys were still only half-way to their destination, and the bus soon started off again, still keeping on the prairie, along the eastern edge of the range, and passing along the shore of lower st. mary lake for many miles. at last the road turned sharp west, and began to climb. it climbed into a deep, narrow valley which led right up into the tumbled mass of red and gray and green peaks and rock precipices. "this is the last stage," said the man. "we are going up the swift current valley." the road was very narrow, and it swung around ledges where there was a massive wall above them on one side and a sheer drop, without protection, on the other. the bus had a siren horn, which the driver set going three hundred yards before he reached one of these curves. as they climbed, the great mountainsides seemed to come nearer and nearer, and at last they towered over their heads, some of them almost perpendicular, and composed of layers of jagged red rock. it was not long before they crossed the tumbling green water of swift current river on a bridge close to a foaming waterfall, and brought up in front of a large hotel on the shore of a small green lake. this was the end of their journey. the scouts got out, and went around to the lake in front of the hotel. here the full view was spread before them, and tom whistled, while joe gasped. right in front of them lay lake mcdermott, perhaps a mile long and half a mile wide, the water a beautiful green, for all the lakes in the park are fed from glaciers, and glacier water is green in color. this lake was surrounded by a fringe of pines. out of the farther side sprung up a cone-shaped mountain, almost out of the water. to the left and right of this peak, called sharp's peak, and only two or three miles behind it, rose the abrupt head wall of the continental divide itself, a vast gray precipice, with great peaks thrusting up from it, and gleaming white snow-fields lying like gigantic sheets spread out to dry wherever there was a place for them to cling. behind the hotel, on both sides, nearer mountains went up precipitously. "it's some big!" joe exclaimed. "say--it--it kind of scares me! think of climbing one of those cliffs!" "we'll get used to it," tom declared. "and we're going to climb 'em! we're going to get photographs of a goat, and see this old park, top and bottom." "gosh, it looks all top to me," poor joe replied. "come on--we'll find our boss, and get our tent pitched, and some grub into us--and we'll feel better," tom cried cheerfully. chapter vi--tom becomes boss of the tepee camp, and the scouts pitch their tent in the evergreens just around the lower end of the lake from the great many glacier hotel, perched up on a little slope, were two or three chalets, like those at st. mary lake, where tourists could stay at less expense than at the hotel. a little farther along, directly on the shore of the lake, the boys saw a group of tall white tepees. "there's our home, i guess--if i get the job," said tom. "we won't have far to haul the water, anyhow." tom led joe into the big lobby of the hotel, which was supported to the roof by huge tree trunks for pillars, and found that he ought to report to the manager of the chalet camp, so he and joe walked back over the bridge by the falls, and climbed to the office of the chalets. "so you are seymour, eh?" the manager said. he was a big, merry looking man, with a high, squeaky voice, and was always bustling about. but the boys liked him at once. "i don't know whether you're old enough to manage the tepee camp or not. can you cut wood?" "yes, sir," said tom. "can you make a bed?" "yes, sir." "can you count change?" "when i've got any." the man laughed, his large shoulders shaking up and down. "well, i'll try you a week--i've got nobody else. what's your friend going to do?" "i brought a tent of my own," tom explained, "and i thought i could pitch it just into the woods somewhere, out of sight, and we'd live in that, and joe's going to get our meals, so's i can give all my time to looking after the tepees--couldn't we do that?" the man turned to joe. "are you a good cook?" he asked. "i can cook camp stuff all right, and make bread, and things like that," said joe. "can you throw a diamond hitch?" "i don't know--i never tried," joe replied. the man tipped back his head and squeaked with mirth again. "that's like the man who said he didn't know whether he could play the violin or not--he'd never tried," said he. "my boy, it takes years and years of patient practice to learn to throw a diamond hitch. but if you only could throw one, you could probably help us out this summer as a camp cook on lots of expeditions. we are going to be hard up for cooks this year." "i bet i can learn!" cried joe. "i can tie all kinds of knots,--the becket hitch, and the bowline, and the false reef and the fisherman's bend, and the sheep-shank and the timber hitch----" "whoa!" the man laughed. "well, we'll see. come on now, and get your tent and stuff, and we'll go over and look at the camp. i suppose, though, you'd like some grub first, wouldn't you?" "i could eat a couple of prunes," said tom. "i got space for an olive and an oyster cracker, myself," said joe. "well, pile in there and get a bite," the man said, pointing to a small room where the few helpers he needed in the chalets were eating. the scouts needed no second invitation, after their fifty mile motor ride, and they fell on the food hungrily. "say, big bertha's all to the good," joe whispered to tom, "if he does talk like a lady." "sure he is--he can't help havin' a squeaky voice," tom answered. "he's treating us white, all right." as soon as they were partially filled up--(they ate until they dared not ask for more)--the scouts went back to the hotel, with two borrowed wheelbarrows, and got their trunks and luggage. then big bertha joined them, and they all three continued to the tepee camp, which was pitched between the trail and the shore of the lake. there were six or eight tepees, of stout white canvas stretched on a frame of lodge pole pines. each tepee had a wooden floor and one of them contained a few cooking implements and a small cook-stove. the rest were for sleeping, and contained a couple of cots apiece. "now, this camp is used mostly by tourists who are going through the park on foot," big bertha explained. "you are to charge them fifty cents a night per bed. they get the use of the range and cooking utensils free, and they're supposed to wash 'em, but they probably won't. your job is to keep the camp clean, have wood always cut up for fires, make the beds, change the linen (you get that from me), collect the fees, attend to the latrine carefully, and--oh, just run the place as if it was the waldorf-astoria! the store where they buy grub, and you get yours, is up at the chalets." "i get you," said tom. "doesn't look as if it had been used much this year." "it hasn't. there's still so much snow on the passes that not many hikers have been over. but they'll be along in a week or so, though. you go ahead and pitch your own tent now, for joe--somewhere out there in the woods. i guess if you boys are scouts you know how to do it right." "is the lake good to swim in?" joe asked. big bertha looked at him with a funny expression. "sure," he said. "try it, after you've got your tent up! oh, and say, look out for porcupines at night, boys." only a few feet beyond the tepees the heavy woods began, not high woods, but a thick stand of fir about thirty or forty feet tall. the scouts took the tent and baggage in far enough to be out of sight of the camp, and screened from the view of the hotel across the lake, but still close to the shore. they found a dry, well-drained, level spot, threw a rope over it from tree to tree, and slung the tent. then they cut pegs, fastened it down, set up their cots inside, and while joe was making the beds, spider hauled a lot of rocks up from the edge of the lake and built a fire pit. "i s'pose it's going to rain sometimes," he said. "we ought to have a shelter over the kitchen." "don't look now as if it ever rained here," joe answered, from the tent. "i'll build a lean-to over the kitchen while you're running the camp. gosh, i'm goin' to feel like an awful grafter, just doing nothing, while you're working all the time." "aw, cut it out," tom answered. "you'll be cooking for me, won't you? you're my housekeeper. i'm going to call you wifey." "if you do, i'll put chestnut burrs in your bed," joe laughed. "where are you going to get the chestnuts?" asked tom. "i don't see anything around here but evergreen. come to think of it, i've not seen a single hardwood all day." "golly, that's so," joe answered. "i don't believe i have. it's going to be hard cooking with nothing but pine. how's a feller going to get a bed of coals?" "i guess he isn't. but i'll see what can be done." tom went into the woods with one of the axes, while joe busied himself about camp, making a shelf on a tree for the provisions, getting the trunks stowed away under the cots, rigging up a rough table out of two pieces of board he went back to the tepee camp and hunted up, and planning for a lean-to to be built later as a shelter while cooking. tom came back presently, his arms loaded with dry wood. "all soft," he said, stacking it near the fire-pot. "there's not a hardwood in the forest anywhere. come on, now, we've got to get a supply cut for the camp, in case anybody comes. if they don't come, we can cook on the stove there, i guess. it'll be easier than here." "and not so much fun," said joe. the two boys worked industriously for the next hour, tom doing the heavy chopping, and got a good pile of wood stacked up beside the stove in the camp. it was nearly five o'clock now, and still no one had appeared, so they went back to their tent, being hot and tired, put on a set of summer underclothes for bathing suits, and ran down to the lake. the bottom dropped away rather gradually, over rough stones, so they could not dive. tom was the first in. he went in up to his knees, and emitted a yell that echoed from the wall of pines across the water. "wow!" he cried, "sufferin' snakes!" "is it cold?" said joe, still standing on the shore. "oh, no, it ain't cold! oh, no, it's warm as a hot potato!" spider took another step forward and slipped into a hole nearly up to his waist, lost his balance, and went under. he came up spitting water, and made a wild leap for the shore. "you keep out o' this, joe," he spluttered. "it's too cold for you to go in. talk about glacier water--not for me!" "i want to try it," pleaded joe. "no, you don't!"--and spider grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back. as tom peeled off his suit and reached for a towel, joe ran for their little camp mirror. "look at yourself," he said. tom looked. he was as red as a boiled lobster from head to foot. "it's a wonder there ain't icicles on my elbows," he laughed. "you heat yourself some water on the fire, joe, if you want a bath!" which was exactly what joe did. they were hardly dressed again, and beginning to prepare supper, when they heard a great clatter of hoofs and shouting coming down the trail. they ran through their fringe of woods, coming out on the trail a little way above the camp, and galloping toward them they saw a procession on horseback, shouting, laughing, screaming. at the head rode a cowboy, well in the lead, and holding his horse back. it was a big, bay horse, with a white star in its forehead, and full of ginger. the cowboy wore white fur chaps on his legs, and spurs, and a broad-brimmed felt hat. behind him came another guide, also in cowboy costume, and then almost a dozen men and women, evidently tourists. some of them knew how to ride, but more of them evidently did not. the women were bouncing around in their saddles and screaming, but nobody stopped. the race for home had begun, and the horses intended to finish at a gallop. as the leader thundered past the two boys, they saw with admiration how firmly he sat in his saddle, like a part of the horse, and looked calmly back over his shoulder with a laugh. then they saw him touch the horse with his spurs, and it sprang forward with a bound, while the rest came tearing on behind. as one woman passed the scouts, her last hairpin flew out, and her hair came tumbling down in a braid, which began bobbing up and down on her back. "gee, that's the life!" tom cried. "we simply _got_ to learn to ride horseback, joe. i bet they've been over a pass, or something, to-day." "i bet some of 'em are going to eat off the mantelpiece to-morrow," joe replied. they went back by way of the camp, to see if any hikers had arrived, and then got their supper, a rather smoky job, with only soft wood to cook by. but they were too hungry to mind the smoke. after supper they walked around to the great hotel, which was not yet lighted up, for though it was now seven o'clock, it was still broad daylight, and bought souvenir postcards to send home to their parents and the other scouts. as yet the hotel had few guests, for the season had hardly begun, the snow had lain so late on the passes that year, but there was music and bustle about the place, just the same, and another party on horseback was just galloping in, so the boys could watch the tired riders dismount, and the cowboy guides drive the horses away, down the road to their night feeding on the lower meadows. joe longed to ask one of those cowboys to show him what that mysterious thing, a diamond hitch, was, but he did not have the nerve. it was still quite light enough to read a newspaper when they returned to camp. nobody had come, and as it had been a hard day, and tom saw joe was tired, he gave orders to turn in, though the lights in the great hotel across the lake, under the vast wall of allen mountain, were just twinkling on. "seems foolish to go to bed by daylight," he said, "but it's nine o'clock, and you're a sick little wifey." "you'll be a sick little hubby, in about a minute and a quarter," joe retorted, swinging at him. "still, i feel as if i could sleep, daylight or not." "come here," tom went on, "and let's see how your old temperature is. if you've got a fever to-night it means you got to stay still for the next week, and rest up." he shook down the little clinical thermometer dr. meyer had given him, and put it under joe's tongue. "smoke that a while," he laughed. after a couple of minutes he took it out again and inspected it. "ninety-eight," said he. "that's normal, ain't it? hooray, old joey, no temperature even after this day! i guess you're getting better, all right." "sure i am," joe laughed. "i'm going to climb to the top of the great divide to-morrow!" the night came on as they were getting ready to bunk, and with it came a sudden coolness. "i guess we're going to be glad of these blankets, after all," tom said, "and you won't be sorry your mother put in that puff." "you bet i won't," joe answered, climbing into his cot, and pulling the puff up about him. tom took a last look at the fire, at the still woods, at the lake glimmering down through the trees, picked up his sweater, which he had dropped on the ground, and hung it idly over a log by the fire, pulled the tent flap together, blew out the candle in the camp lantern, and also crawled in. "well, joe," he said, "we've begun our life five thousand feet up, at the feet of the glaciers." joe's answer was a snore. chapter vii--joe gets acquainted with porcupines, the diamond hitch, and switchback trails some hours later the boys were awakened by a tremendous clatter just outside the tent. they both sprang up and rushed out. it was pitch dark, the last ember of the fire had died, and they could see nothing. but they could hear something scampering away in the underbrush. "is it a bear?" joe whispered. "gee, i wish they'd let you have a gun in the park!" tom jumped into the tent and lit the lantern. by its dim rays, they saw what had made the clatter. half their little stock of canned goods and other provisions had been knocked down off the shelf joe had built. "i know--porcupines!" spider cried. "remember, big bertha told us to look out for 'em." they carried their provisions back into the tent, and went to sleep again. tom was the first up. joe heard him muttering and exclaiming outside the tent, and crawled out to see what was the matter. "matter? matter?" spider shouted. "look at this--and this!" he held up his sweater in one hand, and one of the scout axes in the other. one entire sleeve of the sweater was gone, and the handle of the axe was so chewed up that it was practically useless. "holy smoke, what did that?" before tom could answer, there was a movement in the undergrowth, and both boys sprang toward it. there, sure enough, was the culprit--a fat porcupine, surprised by their quick descent, and backing away from them with every quill rigid and ready for business. tom grabbed a heavy stick, and was about to hit it, when joe stopped him. "wait a minute--i want to see it work," he said. "i want to see if they really throw their quills. you keep him here." joe quickly hunted up a rotten stick, and gingerly poked it at the porcupine, which bit at the end viciously, and filled it full of quills, but he certainly didn't "shoot" them. the stick had to touch them first before they came out. "there, now you see the story's a fake," tom cried, "so good-night, pork,--you'll pay for my sweater, you beast, you!" he brought his club down on the poor animal's head, and laid it out. "i kind of hate to see him killed," said joe. "i hate to kill animals myself, but we got to keep our sweaters and axes," tom answered. "we'll make an indian belt, or something, of the quills, and send it home to the kids." they were still talking about the porcupine as they got breakfast. "don't seem as though a woollen sweater sleeve and a wooden axe handle were exactly what you'd call nourishing," said joe. "i'd rather have bacon," tom laughed. "he looks fat, too." as they were speaking, they heard steps in the woods, and a second later a tall, thin, tanned man in a khaki-colored uniform, with leather riding gaiters and a wide-brimmed felt hat, appeared in their little clearing. the two scouts rose quickly, in surprise. "hello, boys," the man said, as his blue eyes took in them and every detail of the camp at a single piercing glance, "goin' to have porcupine for breakfast?" "he'll never have my sweater for breakfast again!" tom replied. the man laughed--or, rather, he smiled. it was really a kind of inside laugh, noiseless. even his voice was low, so you had to listen sharply to hear what he was saying. "they'll eat the clothes off your back if you let 'em," said he. "but why do they eat such--such dry stuff? it's worse than patent breakfast food without cream," said joe. "salt," the man replied. "they'll eat anything a man or a horse has touched, to get it salty with perspiration--an axe handle, for instance. i knew a lumber jack once who had a grudge against a feller, so he put salt on his cabin roof, and the porcs came in the night and ate the roof most off. there come a rain the next day, too." the boys laughed. they wanted to ask their visitor who he was, but didn't see quite how to bring it about. finally tom said, "won't--won't you have some breakfast?" "had mine," the man answered. "might take a cup of coffee, though. yours smells good." he sat down on the log which was serving the boys as a chair, first easing his belt holster, which held a -calibre automatic. "he must be a park ranger," tom whispered to joe. "nobody else can carry arms in the park, they say." joe brought him a cup of coffee, and as he took it, he said, "well, boys, i hear you're goin' to look after the tepee camp. thought i'd come down to inspect you. i'm the ranger for this district. mills is my name. my cabin's just up the trail a piece toward swift current. let me know if i can do anything for you." "thank you, sir," said joe. "some time, if you--you'd----" he hesitated, turning red at the boldness of his demand. the ranger waited in silence, only keeping a pale blue eye on his face, but a kindly eye. "----if you'd show me how to throw a diamond hitch." "is that all?" said the ranger, with one of his silent laughs. "i thought you were goin' to ask me for a thousand dollars. i can show you the diamond hitch 'most any time. i'm packing off to-day, about ten. come around and get a lesson. ride a horse, either of you?" "well, we ride just a little--farm horses out to plowing, and things like that," spider replied. "i have an extra horse. maybe one of you'll come along with me some day when you both ain't needed in the camp. if you can always make coffee like this i'd like you along." "joe's the cook," tom said. "he can go any time. it's i who am running the camp. he's just loafing and getting well. he's been sick." "well, joe, you come out to my cabin at ten, and you can see me throw a hitch," the ranger said, getting up, "and ride up the trail with me a spell, if you want." joe's eyes grew big with excitement. "i'll be there!" he cried. the ranger went back again, and the two scouts looked at each other. "say, he's some prince!" joe exclaimed. "but i don't like to be getting the first ride ahead of you. i wouldn't do it, only if i learn to ride, and tie a pack on, maybe i can get a job as cook." "go to it, old scout," tom answered. "that's what we came here for." after breakfast tom went over to the chalets to report and to do some work around the camp, and before ten o'clock joe was at the ranger's log cabin. mills, the ranger, had three horses out of the little stable behind, and was putting a saddle on the largest horse. "go get the other saddle from the stable, and let's see you put it on your horse," he said. joe brought the saddle, a regular western saddle, with the high back and the horn in front, and did his best to get it on. the ranger watched him a minute, and then showed him how to cinch it properly and tight. "don't be afraid to pull it hard," he said. "the old nag'll lose some of his belly before he gets home, and if you've not cinched it tight your saddle will slip." mills now put a saddle blanket on the third horse, and then a pack saddle, which is a framework of wood, arranged like a saddle underneath with a cinch belt under the belly and a broad canvas belt extending around the back and under the tail. after this is put on the horse the wooden frame of the saddle makes a kind of platform on each side to rest the pack upon. the ranger now brought out his stuff--dunnage bags, an axe, blankets, a canvas covering, and a long rope. "you hold his head," said he to joe, "and talk to him real kind, while i hang the bags on." one bag was hung on one side, one on the other, to balance the pack, and then, while the horse tried to do a one-step on joe's toes with his front legs, and kick mills in the stomach with his hind legs, the ranger threw the blankets on top, done up in a flat roll, over the whole saddle, and covered them with the tarpaulin. finally, he took the long rope, which joe saw had a canvas band and strap on one end, and fastened this strap, like a cinch, around the horse's belly. "now," said he, "we are ready to throw a hitch. come here and help. we'll throw a double one, because that's stronger." joe soon saw that the process consists of weaving the rope back and forth under the sides of the saddle and then crossways over the top, in such a way that when it is done the strands of rope, from above, would be seen to make a diamond. each time the rope was passed over to mills, he took the end, braced one foot against the horse, and pulled it taut. joe did the same on his side. "won't i hurt the horse?" he asked. the ranger laughed. "i give you leave, if you can," he said. when the rope was all used, mills fastened the end, went over the whole thing with his hand, testing it to see if it was tight, and then finished by giving the horse a resounding slap. "that's the way you have to finish," he said, "or the horse wouldn't think you were through." "i wouldn't think the horse would like to be packed much," joe suggested. "never knew one that did," mills replied. "lots o' times, while you're throwing the hitch, that canvas band under the tail works up and sort o' tickles the horse, and then, oh, boy, look out! your plug'll buck, and a packhorse don't reckon he's done a real good job o' buckin' till he's covered about three square acres of ground, and deposited canned beef, tea, syrup, blankets, axes, coffee-pots and a few other things entirely over said area. then, when you cinch him tight before you start, too, he's likely to feel that's goin' to interfere with his digestion, and start buckin'. a packhorse is an ornery critter." but this horse, now he was packed, was quiet as a kitten, waiting for the party to start. the ranger called to joe's horse, which had wandered away. "now mount," said mills. joe, on the right side of his horse, started to put his right foot into the stirrup, and the horse shied away from him, almost spilling him on the ground. "first lesson," said the ranger. "never get on a horse from the right. some of 'em don't mind, but most of 'em do. no use tempting providence." joe came around to the left side, and grasping the horse by the mane and the saddle horn, swung himself up. "now, just stand up as straight-legged as you can, and see how many fingers you can put between your saddle and the crotch of your legs." "two," said joe. "oughtn't my stirrups to be shorter?" "if you want to ride like a bally british monkey, or a jockey, yes," mills answered. "if you want to ride like a regular human bein', they're just right. let's see you trot." joe tightened the reins and gave his horse a jab with his heels, and the animal started off with abrupt suddenness, at a sharp trot. poor joe began to bob up and down, and bang the base of his spine against the saddle. he tried to rise on his toes with the motion of the horse, but that, he felt, only made him the more awkward. the ranger came up alongside, and passed him. "watch me," he said. "just barely stand in your stirrups, comfortable like, bend forward from your hips, and let your body, not your legs, keep the gait." he trotted ahead, and joe saw with admiration that his shoulders hardly bobbed up and down at all. he did his best to imitate him, and after a while felt as if he were getting on to the hang of it. but they couldn't trot far, because the packhorse was following them, all by himself, and if he trotted it shook up his pack too much. so they pulled down to a walk, and climbed the trail, first the ranger, then joe, then the patient packhorse, through woods at first, and across a roaring, racing little green river, which foamed up against the horses' legs and made joe hold up his feet under him to keep them dry. "i'm going over swift current pass," the ranger said, "and on up the mineral creek cañon on the other side, and then down into the little kootenai river country, to open the trail a bit. you can come with me to the top of the pass, and pick up some party to bring you back." "i wish i could come all the way!" joe exclaimed. mills laughed another of his silent laughs. "you're ambitious for a sick boy and a tenderfoot," he said. "you'll be sore enough, with fourteen miles, to-night." they were getting out of high timber now, into stunted limber pines, which were covered all over with bright reddish-pink cone buds, like flowers, and everywhere in the grass and trees around them joe saw more beautiful wild flowers, and more kinds of wild flowers, than he had ever seen in his life before. it was like riding through a garden, with tremendous red mountain precipices for walls. beside the trail was the swift current river, every now and then widening out into a lovely little green lake, and directly ahead of them, at the head of the cañon, rose an almost perpendicular wall of rock for two thousand feet, to a lofty shelf, on which swift current glacier, snow-covered now, hung like a gigantic white napkin. to the right was the egyptian pyramid of mount wilbur. from the glacier, down over the precipice, were falling half a dozen white streams of waterfalls, like great silver ribbons. as they got nearer and nearer to this head wall, and it seemed to rise higher and higher over them, while the walls on each side of them, the one across the cañon bright red, also grew higher and higher, joe began to get nervous. "say," he finally asked, "are we going to _climb_ that?" mills looked back at him with a grin. "sure," he said. "well, i don't see how," joe answered. "i'm no goat." [illustration: switchback trail up swift current pass] mills laughed again, but said no more. instead, he plodded steadily on, till the great cliff wall seemed about to hit them in the face, and joe could hear the thunder of the white waterfalls as they leaped and plunged down from the melting glacier two thousand feet over his head. just as he had decided the ranger was playing a joke on him, for surely nobody could get up those walls, the trail turned sharp to the right, and began to go up. then joe learned what a rocky mountain switchback is. a switchback trail can be put up almost any slope that is not actually perpendicular, and the slope they were climbing now was not quite that, though to joe it seemed pretty near it. the trail was about four or five feet wide, and was dug right out of the side of the hill. it went up at an angle of about twenty degrees, for perhaps two hundred feet to the right, then it swung sharp left on a steep hairpin turn and ran another two hundred or three hundred feet, took another sharp hairpin turn, and so on up, and up. when joe had made one of these turns, he could look right down on the top of the blankets on the packhorse below him. "say," he called up to the ranger, "what happens to you if your horse falls off here?" "your horse never falls off," mills answered. "if he did, you'd probably take to harp playing. but he won't." they climbed up these switchbacks for two thousand feet or so, and then worked around a shoulder of the mountain so that they couldn't see the glacier any more, but looking back down the cañon joe could see a great, narrow hole, with the green lakes like a string of jewels at the bottom, and at the far end, as blue and level as the ocean, the vast prairie. "the prairie looks just like the ocean," he said. "does it?" said the ranger. "i never saw the ocean. must be fine." in a minute or two they reached the first snow-field. joe did not want to appear too green and excited, but he was almost trembling with excitement, just the same. he had reached the level of summer snow! he was above timber-line, or almost above, and here in a great northern hollow was a vast drift, four hundred feet wide and thirty feet deep in the middle, which mills said would not melt all summer! little streams of water were gushing out from the lower side, and the snow was very soft and coarse, like rock salt. the trail went right across it, the horses picking their way carefully over the treacherous footing. they climbed but a little way more, and they were on the top of the pass. when you think of a mountain pass, probably, you think of a deep valley or cañon between the hills, but a pass is not like that at all in the high rockies. in order to get over the continental divide (which the indians called "the backbone of the world"), you have to climb, and the pass is simply a point on this spine which is not quite so high as other points, and can be reached, moreover, from the base. joe found himself in a little meadow which was full of stunted pine trees, the last of the timber, with snowdrifts, and with bright gold dog-tooth violets, some of them coming right up and blossoming through two inches of snow. on either side of him, the divide rose up perhaps another five hundred or a thousand feet, in pyramids of naked rock. ahead, to the west, he could see a great hole, where the divide dropped down on the other side, and ten miles away across this hole a wonderful sharp-peaked mountain all covered with snow, and looking like the pictures of the alps in his old geography. "what's that mountain?" he asked. "heaven's peak," said the ranger. "good name for it, eh?" "it sure is!" said joe. mills stopped the horses in a little grassy glade, sheltered from the wind by a group of stunted pines, and unslung the packs. "you're going to make me some more of that coffee," he laughed, opening one of his dunnage bags. while joe was building the fire, mills pointed up the great slope of naked, tumbled rocks to the south. "climb up there some day," said he, "and down the other side, and you'll get on top of the divide above swift current glacier. it's narrow--just a knife blade, and all along the centre of it you'll see a game trail." while they were eating lunch, joe was amused to see the ground squirrels--hundreds of them, it seemed--come up out of their holes in the grass and look at the intruders. they sat up on their hind legs, pressed their front paws against their stomachs, and made a _cheeping_ noise, almost like birds. "looks as if they were mechanical toys," joe laughed, "and had to squeeze their middles to get a sound." he put a piece of bread down side of him, to fill his cup again, and when he went to pick it up, it wasn't there--it was vanishing into a hole! "mechanical toy, eh?" the ranger grinned. "pretty smart mechanism!" before they were through lunch, another party appeared from the west, coming up into the pass, and dismounting. this was a regular tourist party of men and women, with two cowboy guides. "i thought they'd be along," said mills. "i'm going to send you back with them. and now here's what i really brought you for--i'll be gone three or four days, and somebody's got to look after popgun (that's the horse you're riding). how'd you like to feed him every day, and give him some water, and a bit o' exercise, just around the lake, mind you. i don't want you riding off alone on the trails." joe gasped with surprise and delight. "you--you mean it?" he asked. "sure i mean it. don't take me long to size folks up. i like you boys, and maybe we can help each other. pretty lonely in my cabin, you know." mills gave him directions about the feed, and then went over and spoke to one of the guides. when he came back, he said to joe, "now, let's see you throw a diamond hitch." joe did his best, but he had to have help. "i could get it with two or three more tries, i bet!" he cried. "then i could get a job as cook with a party, maybe." "there's a rope in the barn. you can be practicing," the ranger laughed. "so long." "good-bye, sir," joe answered, as the lean ranger swung into his saddle, called to his packhorse as if it were a dog, and disappeared down the trail to the west, the faithful packhorse plodding on behind. the other party were a long time about their meal, and joe climbed part way up the peak to the south, getting above the last timber, which consisted of tiny, twisted trees not over two feet high, and some of them growing along the very ground. up here he found beautiful, tiny alpine flowers in the rock crannies, he started up what looked like a big black and gray woodchuck, and which he later learned was a whistling marmot, and he came upon a bird, something like a partridge, but the same gray color as the rocks. this bird was followed by six little fluffy chicks, which went scuttering away with shrill little peeps into the maze of stones, and ten feet away couldn't be seen, so like the stones were they. "that's protective coloring," joe thought. "wonder why they are colored that way?" he was later to learn that this was a ptarmigan hen and her chicks, the largest bird which lives above timber in these mountains. no doubt it is colored like the rocks to protect it from the eye of foxes, eagles, and other foes. joe didn't dare climb any higher, though he longed to get to the top, which now rose steep above him. he felt perfectly well, too, and the climbing didn't make him cough. but he saw the party was packing up again, so he hurried down and cinched up another notch in his saddle to make sure it did not slip on the descent. he mounted and fell in behind the procession, which immediately began winding its way down the steep switchbacks. joe, from the rear, could look almost directly down on the head of the leader, a hundred feet below him. one or two of the women were screaming, and now and then a stone, loosened by a house's hoof, would go bounding down the slope with a terrifying rattle. but the horses, carefully putting one foot ahead of the other, were as calm and sure as if they were on level going, and nothing at all happened, of course. once on the comparatively level trail below, the leading guide broke into a trot, and the whole cavalcade came bouncing on behind. joe bounced at first as much as anybody, but by dint of much trial, he got into the swing a little, and began to ride more comfortably. when they were on the level trail in the woods at last, a mile from the lake, the leader gave a yell, touched his spurs, and leaped out at a gallop. all the other horses, without waiting for any command, started in to gallop also, including popgun. joe yelled with the rest, jammed his cap on hard, hung to the horn of his saddle to keep aboard, and felt the wind rush against his face. still galloping and shouting, the cavalcade dashed past the ranger's cabin, and on toward the tepee camp. joe hoped spider would be around to see. he wanted to stop his horse at the tepees, but whether he could or not was another question. popgun didn't appear to have any intention of stopping till the rest did. as they dashed in sight of the camp, he saw spider standing by the trail. joe yelled, "hi--tom!" and began to tug at the reins. popgun came down to a trot obediently--and also suddenly, very nearly sending joe out over his head. another tug, and a "whoa!" brought him up short, though his ears were pricked up, and his eyes were following the galloping cavalcade now disappearing toward the hotel. "well--_what_ are you doing?" exclaimed the astonished tom. "i'm a regular cowboy now, eh, what? allow me to introduce popgun, my gallant broncho. we've been on top of the great divide, we have, and seen the water going toward the pacific, and, gee i know where there's a game trail we can climb to, and i'm goin' to have this horse to ride for three or four days, and feed him, and--and all." "i bet you're sore to-night," said tom. "i bet i am, too. you try him. gee, he's a fine old horse. you ought to see him come down a trail--just as careful. wow! and some trail, too!" joe dismounted, stiffly, with an "ouch!" and tom climbed into the saddle. popgun looked mildly around, to see what the change meant, and then trotted obediently off. joe watched, laughing. there was no doubt that tom bounced. he bounced as much as the women. the harder he tried not to, the more he bounced. "see, you got to do it this way," said joe, as the other scout came back. he started to mount again, with a leap, but his legs were so stiff they'd hardly work. "very graceful, _very_ graceful indeed!" tom taunted. "why don't you get a job in the movies, you're so graceful?" "maybe i will," joe answered, finally getting into his saddle. "now look--here's the way." he hit popgun with his heels, and started up the trail, but before he was out of sight a second cavalcade, with a cowboy at the head, came thundering past. popgun turned, and in spite of joe's cries and tugs at the rein, insisted on galloping with it. hanging helpless to his saddle horn, tom saw joe tearing past, in the middle of the crowd, and disappearing toward the hotel. five minutes later he returned, looking very sheepish. "i see just how to do it," tom taunted. "joe, you've got speed, but no control!" "you wait! i'll have old popgun eating out of my hand yet," joe answered. "guess i'll put him up now, and feed him." "yes, and then you come back and rest. you've been doing too much to-day," said tom. when joe got back, he found tom busy at the camp. the first party of hikers had arrived--ten of them, men about thirty-five years old from chicago, who were taking their vacation tramping through the park. they all wore high, heavy boots with hobnails, flannel shirts, khaki trousers, and carried knapsacks on their backs. tom was hustling around buying provisions for them at the chalet store, fixing their bunks, getting fresh water, making a fire in the stove, and so on, while two of the men, who acted as cooks, were getting ready to cook the supper. "can i help?" joe asked. "no, you go back to our tent and rest," said tom. "you can get our supper, after you've thought a while about how graceful you are." joe went limping off, and was only too glad to lie down in the tent. he lay on his side presently. he began to realize acutely, and locally, that he had been riding horseback, fourteen miles, for the first time. but he had supper ready when tom came at six-thirty. "how do you feel?" tom demanded. "i bet you've been doing too much. tired? got a fever?" he got out the thermometer. "i'm sore, all right, but i'm not very tired, not half as tired as i used to get at home, just walking back from school." tom answered by putting the thermometer in his mouth. "no fever at all--and you're all sweaty," he said a minute later. "you really feeling better, old joey?" "sure i am." but tom wouldn't let him help after supper in getting more wood for the camp. tom did it all, while joe sat at first outside the tepees and tried to hear the talk of the hikers about their trip, and later, when tom was through, moved closer to the "council fire," built in a ring of stones, at the invitation of the men, and heard them tell of their twenty-two mile hike that day over piegan pass from upper st. mary lake. it was fine to sit there, by the warm fire, as the darkness gathered over the great, solemn wall of the divide, as the lights in the hotel across the lake twinkled on, as the night wind whispered in the pines, and hear the talk of glaciers, and snow-fields, and ten-thousand-foot climbs. it made joe and tom long for the day when they could get out, with blanket and knapsack, over the high trails. they went back to their tent at last reluctantly, while the hikers bade them a cheerful good-night. "seems as if everybody in the park was good-natured," joe remarked, as he crawled into bed. "guess it's the air." "i like everybody but the porcupines," tom answered, carefully folding what was left of his sweater under his pillow! "i wrote home for a new one to-day, but i'll hang on to what i've got." chapter viii--joe gets a chance at last to go out on a trip as camp cook the next few days were busy ones for both boys. tom had hikers to take care of now every day, sometimes only two or three at a time, sometimes much larger parties, so that he had to wheel down more cots from the chalets. there was much to do, cutting wood, hauling water, making beds, raking and burning the litter after each party, for tom had learned as a scout that one of the worst things a camper can do is to leave any litter behind him, and one of the best ways to collect flies around a camp is to leave scraps and garbage unburned or unburied. he even went over to the hotel and begged a can of stove polish from the kitchen, and each day, after the crowd had gone, polished up the camp stove. big bertha, coming down to look things over, found him busy at this job. "well, well," said he, in his funny, high voice, "i'd know you came from new england. must have a clean kitchen! the camp looks well, tom, and nobody's made a kick yet. i guess we can keep you another week." then he laughed in such a way that tom knew his job was safe. meanwhile joe divided his day between cooking the meals for tom and himself, building a lean-to kitchen and dining-room for rainy weather, rigging up a porcupine-proof pantry with some old chicken wire he found behind the hotel chicken yards, and feeding and riding the ranger's horse. twice a day he took popgun out for a spin, going down below the hotel to the level meadows where the packhorses and saddle-horses rented to the tourists were pastured at night, and there he galloped, trotted, and jumped logs till he felt sure of himself, and all his saddle soreness wore off. sometimes, after the guests at the camp were gone, and no new party had yet arrived, tom took a try in the saddle, too, and both of them, with packs made of their blankets and an old mattress, practiced throwing a diamond hitch, while popgun, who was being used for the experiment, stood still, but looked around at them with a comical, grieved expression, as much as to say, "what do you think i am, just an old packhorse?" the ranger did not return for five days, and joe was sorely tempted to ride popgun up one of the trails again, to the high places which lured him--to iceberg lake, for instance, only six miles away, which everybody talked about as being so beautiful. but he remembered what the ranger had said, and he never went more than a mile or two from camp. it was certainly hard, with a good horse under you, and a bright sky overhead, and the great towering red mountains all around, not to ride on and on, higher and higher, into those wonderful upland meadows, and then on some more to the sky-flung bridge of the great divide! on the sixth morning, as joe drew near the ranger's cabin to feed and water popgun, he saw smoke coming out of the chimney. the door was open, and inside he saw mills just getting breakfast. "hello," he called. "oh, it's you," mills answered, looking out. "come make me some coffee, will you?" joe entered, and mills shook hands. "glad to see you," he said. "i'd be glad to see _anybody_, so don't get flattered. i've been five days alone in the woods, cuttin' out fallen trees from the trail. last winter was a bad one." "i s'pose there's a lot of snow here in winter," said joe, as he set about making the coffee. "last winter there was ten feet on the level in the woods, and the drift piled up against many glacier hotel out there till all you could see was the peak of the roof." "what!" joe cried. "why, that's five stories high!" "so was the drift," said mills "what a chance for skiing!" joe sighed. "say, i'd like to spend a winter here." "don't let's talk about it," mills suddenly said. "makes me blue. the winters are too darn lonely. i see popgun looks fat, and you've been groomin' him, too. where'd you get the curry comb? _i_ don't own one." "made it," joe answered, "by punching holes with a nail through a tin box cover." "can you ride yet?" "well, i can get around, without having to eat off the mantelpiece at night." "want a job?" "sure, if it's something i can do. you know, i'm a regular grafter now, just living off spider. what is it?" "cooking mostly. tastes to me as if you could do that," the ranger said, as he took a sip of joe's coffee, and a bite of the fried eggs and bacon joe had also cooked for him, as they talked. "i can cook all right--i learned that in the boy scouts," joe answered, eagerly. "is it for a party?" "yes, it's a special party--a couple o' congressmen and their wives and families. the park superintendent wants me to show 'em around the circuit a bit--have to be nice to congressmen, because congress appropriates what little money we get to build trails with. all the camp cooks are out on trips now, and i'm up against it unless you'll go along." "i'm your man!" joe cried, eagerly. "well, you're as good as a man when it comes to coffee," mills grinned. "i'll get a guide to help out with the packing and the heavy work. we start to-morrow morning, early. be up here at seven." "o.k.," cried joe, with a salute, and hurried back to tell tom the news. spider looked grave. "i dunno about it," said he. "you know what the doc said about overworking. i dunno whether i'll let you go." "but it won't be overworking," joe cried. "gee, i feel great now, anyhow, and it's just cooking, and the ranger's going to get a guide to do the heavy packing, and i'll be on horseback all the time, and out in the air, and, gosh, but it's a great chance to see the park, and earn some money to pay you back----" "oh, forget that!" said tom. "what's your pay going to be?" "don't know--didn't stop to ask," joe laughed. "you're a great little business man, you are," tom said. "well, you can try it this trip, if you'll come over now to the hotel and get weighed, and have your temperature taken." the hikers had gone for the day, and the camp was vacant, so the two scouts went around to the hotel at once, and joe climbed on the scales. tom set them at a hundred and thirty, but the weight did not drop. he moved the indicator weight pound by pound till he reached a hundred and thirty-nine, before he reached a balance. "gosh," cried joe, "that's almost ten pounds i've put on since i left little old southmead!" "yes, and you haven't coughed for a week," tom added. "you're on the mend, all right, all right. but you got to stay so, and i dunno about letting you go on this trip--it'll be hard work cooking for a whole lot o' people." "aw, please!" joe pleaded. "i feel great now, honest i do. besides, it's all out in the open air." "well, you can try it this once," tom finally said. "but if you have any fever, or have lost any weight, or are fagged, when you get back, or have any signs of a cold, or cough, no more trips for you!" "yes, doctor," joe answered, meekly. they went back to the camp, and joe spent the afternoon studying the government topographical survey map of the park he had bought at the hotel, overhauling his personal equipment, and then, at the supply depot of the glacier park saddle company, which furnishes the horses, tents, guides, blankets, etc., for camping and horseback parties in the park, selecting what he wanted in the way of cooking utensils and provisions for his party. mills said they would be out five days, and there were to be two men, two women, two girls and a boy in the party, besides mills, joe and two guides, for mills had decided they'd need two. that made eleven people in all, or a hundred and sixty-five individual meals. joe began to think, when he came to figure it out, that it was more of a job than it looked at first, especially when all the stuff had to be packed on horseback. he planned for canned soups, for coffee, tea and cocoa, served with condensed milk, of course; for plenty of bacon; for two or three meals of eggs, packed in a small crate; for two meals of beef (which, of course, would not keep, and would have to be served the first two days out); for pancakes and "saddle blankets" (a kind of pan-fried cake served with syrup, the syrup coming in cans); for bread, of course, if he had time to make any; and, finally, beans, sardines, crackers, some canned vegetables, and jam, marmalade and canned peaches. all these things could be carried easily, as they came in tins or jars. all that was needed were the horses. he got everything ready to be packed in the morning, and hurried back to camp to get tom's supper. tom was busy with a big crowd of hikers, who had just arrived over piegan pass, and it was late before the two boys sat down to their meal. "i sort of hate to go now," joe said. "i'll be seeing all the park, and you having to stick around here and make beds for the hikers. when i get back, i'm going to ask big bertha to let me run the camp, while you have a trip." "_yes_ you are!" spider laughed. "you're going to rest a whole week after you get back. you look tired already. guess i won't let you go, after all." "i'd like to see you stop me!" joe answered, as he took a third helping of pancakes. "well, you eat like a well man, i must admit," said spider, reaching for what was left. chapter ix--over piegan pass to st. mary lake, underneath the precipices promptly at seven, joe was at the ranger's cabin. he had already cooked tom's breakfast, and tom was over at the camp, helping the hikers to get theirs. the sun had long been up, and the day was clear and perfect. in fact, there hadn't yet been a rainy day since the scouts reached the park. but mills had told joe to bring his rubber poncho, so he had it with him. he was to ride popgun, of course, and the ranger and he put their personal equipment of blankets, tent, extra clothing, ponchos, axes, and the like, on the ranger's packhorse, and started for the big hotel. "i've got hold of a good extra man," mills said. "with so many skirts in the party, we'll have a big pack-train, for they insist on sleeping out instead of going to the chalets. i was over last night to see 'em." "where are we going to-day?" joe asked. "piegan pass," mills answered, "and make camp to-night by the lake. that's twenty-two miles. to-morrow we'll go to gunsight lake--that's only seven, and it'll be all they'll want after to-day--and rest up, and let 'em climb blackfeet glacier if they want to." at the hotel the two cowboy guides, one of them not very much older than joe, were already on hand with the horses and joe's equipment of stores, and the cooking kit, and three tents, and innumerable blankets. it made such a pile of stuff that you'd have thought it would need a regiment of horses to carry it, but mills and the two guides went about the task of packing it on to the backs of five horses, and so well did they stow it away, properly balanced on either side and made fast with ropes in diamond hitches, that the horses didn't seem to mind it in the least, though they looked more like camels than horses. it was eight o'clock before this work was done, and by that time the tourists appeared, with their dunnage bags, which had to be packed on two more horses. joe had never seen a congressman before, except once when he went to a political rally and he could not help staring at the two men as they approached, and wanting to laugh. beside mills and the two cowboys, they looked so unfitted for this job of riding a horse over the high trails! they looked about as unfit as the cowboys would have looked in congress. both of them still wore long trousers and ordinary boots, though they had bought themselves flannel shirts and soft hats at the hotel store, and sweaters. their wives were not very much better equipped, though both of them had bought khaki divided riding skirts (for nobody is allowed to ride a side saddle in the park). beside the two congressmen and their wives, there were two girls about twenty, and a boy about joe's age. one of the girls was the daughter of congressman elkins of new jersey, the other two of congressman jones of pennsylvania. all three of the young people, joe noted, were better equipped. the girls had regular riding breeches and leather leggins, like a man's, and the boy had khaki riding breeches and high boots. as soon as their dunnage bags had been packed on two more horses, the job of getting the women into their saddles began, and then getting the stirrups adjusted right. the girls and young jones were up and ready long before their mothers were, and making uncomplimentary remarks. "say, ma," called young jones, "if your horse bucks, grab his tail. that always stops 'em." "father looks as scared as when he made his first speech in the house," laughed miss elkins. "nonsense!" said that statesman. "i rode a horse many a time when i was a boy." "that was a long time ago, papa dear," his daughter said. "and pray when did you learn to ride?" her father asked, trying to get comfortable in his saddle. "oh, it's just going to come natural to me," she answered, with one of her rippling laughs that joe liked to hear. mills walked through the little group of mounted riders, gave a testing pull to all the saddle girths, looked at the stirrups, and vaulted into his own saddle. "you keep the two horses with the dunnage bags, and our own packhorse, in front of you, just behind the last rider," he said to joe. then he touched his horse with his heel, and the animal jumped up the trail. the rest followed--first the party of tourists, behind mills, then one of the guides to keep an eye on them, then three packhorses, then joe to keep an eye on these three, then the five other packhorses, and finally the second guide to watch them. in all, then, there were nineteen horses strung out along the trail in single file, which made a considerable procession, as joe looked forward and then back upon it. the trail they were on did not go past the tepee camp, so joe had no chance to call good-bye to tom. it went along the other shore of lake mcdermott, sometimes on the little rocky beach, sometimes almost in the water, heading directly up the valley toward the great gray fortress of gould mountain and grinnell glacier, which joe could see glistening like a huge white and green silk mantle flung along a high ledge just under the spine of the continental divide. mills broke into a trot as soon as the party was well started, and ahead joe could see the two congressmen and their wives bounding up and down, and noticed that congressman elkins, who said he rode when he was a boy, bounded quite as much as any one. of course, the packhorses wanted to trot, too, and joe saw the guide in front turning back and gesticulating to him. he gave popgun a jab in the ribs, and rode past his three charges, getting in front of them, and then pulled popgun down to a walk. if he had not, of course, the packs might soon have been shaken off. the tourists were soon out of sight up the trail, in the woods, and joe and val, the young cowboy, were left alone, with the eight pack animals. it looked like an easy job they had, too, but joe soon found it was not so easy as it looked. some one of the eight was always wanting to fall out of line and eat a particularly tempting bunch of grass, or else took it into his silly head to make a détour into the woods, and then he had to be yelled at, or chased and driven into line again. joe found himself fairly busy most of the first four miles of the trail, till they reached grinnell meadow, where the rest of the party had halted and were waiting for them. grinnell meadow, joe thought, was the most beautiful place he had ever been in. it was a grassy glade of twenty acres, at the foot of grinnell lake, and was studded with little fir trees and carpeted with great white chalice cups, which are a kind of big anemone. the lake itself was green in color, and maybe half a mile across. the far side lay right under a two thousand foot precipice which sprang up to the glacier, and down this precipice, from under the lip of the glacier, were pouring half a dozen very slender waterfalls, like long white ribbons let down the rocks. just to the left the vast cliff wall of mount gould shot straight up to the almost ten thousand foot summit. (of course, the meadow being five or six thousand feet above sea level, this wall of gould wasn't ten thousand feet high, but only about four thousand.) as soon as mills saw the packhorses appear, however, he gave the signal to proceed, so joe did not have time to look about much. the trail crossed the meadow, the ground squirrels peeking out of their holes and chattering angrily at the disturbance, and then turned left, and began at once to climb, alongside of the great cliff of gould mountain. they climbed beside a roaring brook, and joe soon realized that they weren't going up gould at all, but up the side cañon to the east. they hadn't gone a mile before this brook was far below them, and they looked across the deep hole it had made to the towering cliffs of gould. gould is a part of the great divide, and joe could now see more plainly than ever before the strata of the earth crust--layer on layer of different colored stone, like the layers in a gigantic cake. all down the precipices were coming waterfalls, from the snow-fields above, and joe and val reckoned that one fall took a clean jump of twenty-five hundred feet. they could hear the thunder of it, across the cañon, though it was not nearly so loud as you might think, because most of the water turned to mist before it reached the bottom. now the trail began to get into the region of switchbacks, and joe could see the horses of all the party strung out far ahead, and then suddenly doubling on their tracks so mills would pass almost over his head, and speak to him as he went by. before long, he saw mills halt, where the trail went close to a beautiful waterfall, and as he came up, he heard the ranger telling the party that it was morning eagle falls. "what a pretty name--it must be indian, of course?" miss elkins said. "named for some blackfeet chief, i suppose," mills answered. "say, dad, what's the matter with you?" laughed the jones boy. "why don't you christen it congressman peter w. jones falls? what's the use of being in the house of representatives if you can't name a dinky little waterfall after yourself?" "my boy, he's waiting till he reaches the biggest mountain in the park, to name that after himself," the other congressman said, while every one laughed, and the procession started up again. they were climbing an ever steeper trail, now, and the trees began to grow smaller and smaller, while, looking back, joe could see grinnell meadow far below him and the great cliff of gould shooting up out of it. ahead, they began to get into snow-fields, and then they crossed timber-line, where the trees were twisted and bent and even laid over flat by the wind, and sometimes an evergreen a foot thick would be only eighteen inches tall, and then, for twenty feet, bend over and lie along the ground like a vine, sheared by the wind. beyond timber-line they came into a wild, naked, desolate region of broken shale stone, with tiny alpine flowers growing in the crannies, snow-fields lying all about, and to their right, quite near, the southern end of gould mountain where it dropped down a little to the continental divide level, to their left the bare stone pile summit of mount siyeh, which is over ten thousand feet high. a few more steps, and they stood on top of the pass, and looked over the rim, on the tumbled mountains to the south, with the great blue and white pyramid of jackson (ten thousand feet) rising a dozen miles away or more, over what looked like a vast hole in the earth. "this is piegan pass," said mills. "why piegan--and why a pass?" one of the congressmen asked. "i thought a pass was a place where you went between things, not up over their backs." the ranger laughed. "you're only seven thousand feet up here," he said. "that mountain to the east, siyeh, is ten thousand." "why, it looks as if i could just walk across these stones and get to the top of it in twenty minutes!" cried bob jones. "try it," said mills, laconically. "we'll be having lunch down in the pines below." joe thought of the story of the englishman, and hoped bob would try it. "you haven't explained the piegan," miss elkins said. "why, the indians that owned this reservation were the piegan tribe of the blackfeet," said mills. "dear, dear, another lost opportunity for dad!" sighed the irrepressible bob. the cavalcade now began the descent on the south side of the pass, with the divide on their right, across a cañon, and the trail itself dug out of the vast shale slide which was the south wall of siyeh. it was a steep, narrow trail, nothing but loose shale, and the horses had to pick their way slowly and carefully, while the riders had to lean well back and brace in their stirrups to keep from sliding forward on the horse. "say, mr. mills," joe heard bob call, "has this horse of mine got strong ears?" "why?" asked mills. "nothing, only if he hasn't, i'm going to take a toboggan slide down his nose." "try walking," mills called back. joe saw bob dismount, and as he was feeling saddle stiff, he got off his horse, too, and led him down by the bridle. the poor packhorses had to tread on the very outside edge of the trail, because if they didn't, their packs would knock the wall on the inner side, and what kept them from slipping off was hard to see. the trail down seemed endless. far below, joe saw a party coming up, looking about a quarter of a mile away. "i suppose we'll meet 'em day after to-morrow," bob said. [illustration: trail up piegan pass showing continental divide and mt. gould] as a matter of fact, it was half an hour before the two parties met. they had to pass on this narrow path, and mills, the two guides, and joe held the horses of their party while the ascending riders squeezed past, and then led the packhorses, one by one, to a spot where they could make room for another horse to get by. it seemed ticklish work to joe, but the horses were as calm about it as if they had been on level ground. it was long after one o'clock when the nineteen horses of the procession finally stepped off the last of the shale upon the green grass of a little meadow, and then into a level strip of woods. with a yell, mills hit his horse, and went forward at a smart trot, everybody following, even the weary packhorses. out of the woods on the other side they trotted into the most beautiful spot joe had ever seen in all his life, and when miss elkins cried, "oh, is this heaven?" he felt like saying, "me too!"--but remembered that, after all, he was only the cook, and kept silent. "this is piegan pines," said the ranger. "all off for lunch." he sprang from his saddle, and he and the forward guide helped the two older women to dismount--and they certainly needed help. "i can _never_ get back there again," wailed poor mrs. jones, as she flopped down on the grass. while the party were dismounting, joe had just time for a quick look about him. they were in a little meadow, maybe half a mile wide, with towering rock walls on both sides, hung with snow-fields and a glacier or two, and, behind, the great shale slide down which they had just come. only one side, to the south, was open--and there the meadow just dropped off into space. across the hole, far off and blue, was the great blue mass of mount jackson, covered with snow, and the great white and green slopes of blackfeet glacier, the largest in the park. the meadow was full of little limber pines, golden with millions of dog-tooth violet bells, and criss-crossed with tiny ice-water brooks, running in channels over the grass--made, of course, by melting snow on the cliffs above. "golly," thought joe, "if old spider and i could only come and camp here!" but now mills was telling him to get a quick, cold lunch, and he and the other guide sprang for the packhorses, and got out what was needed, while mills made a camp-fire beside one of the brooks. as joe was making his preparations, he felt miss elkins standing beside him, and looked up. "are you the cook?" she asked. "i--i believe so," joe stammered, getting red. "you don't look very old to be a cook," said she. "have you got lots and lots to eat? i could devour a whole butcher shop, i think." "cold lunch," said joe, grinning. "ranger's orders." "oh, not a cold lunch! mr. mills--mr. mills--cook says you say a cold lunch. you didn't say that, did you?" "sure, ice water and a cracker," the ranger grinned. "can't stop to cook." "oh, please, just coffee--mother will _never_ get back on her horse without a cup of coffee." "i'll never get back without _two_ cups," groaned mrs. jones. "well, joe, make 'em coffee," said mills, with a wink at joe, who had been intending to make coffee all the time. he filled his kettle at the little brook, and while the coffee was boiling, opened a small can of sardines apiece, some boxes of crackers, a can of beans, and two or three jars of jam. for the jam, he carefully whittled some dead pine limbs into rough spoons, to save dish washing, and sweetened the coffee, when ready, in the pot, for the same purpose. by the time he had this very simple lunch spread out on a bit of level ground, with no plates or spoons except for the beans, which he had heated while the coffee was boiling, the party had scattered, all but val, the young cowboy. "ready?" val asked. "all ready." val picked up a piece of wood and a frying-pan, which lay on the opened pack. pounding the pan with the stick like a drum, he yelled, "come and get it!" "that's the word that brings 'em in these parts," he added to joe. it did. "that's the most eloquent speech i ever heard!" exclaimed mr. jones. in about one minute, they were all gathered around the fire. val passed the food and joe poured the coffee. "say, what do you take these sardines out with?" demanded mrs. jones. "fingers were made before forks, mother darling," said bob. "see--watch your little son." he picked up a sardine by the tail, and dropped the whole of it into his mouth. "well, i must say, i'd like a fork----" she began, and joe turned red, for he had forgotten the forks for the sardines. but miss elkins spoke up before mrs. jones could finish. "cook hasn't time to wash dishes this noon," she said. "we've got to make camp before dark. besides, we're roughing it. i think it's great!" and she, too, picked a sardine out of her tin by the tail, and dropped it upon a cracker. joe cast her a grateful glance, and she smiled at him sweetly. he decided then and there, as he put it to himself, that she was "all to the good." meantime mrs. elkins, her mother, was watching val, with fascinated eyes. "what _are_ you looking at, mother?" her daughter demanded. bob's eyes followed hers, and he gave a hoot of glee. "a charlie chaplin sandwich!" he cried. then everybody looked at val, who was grinning amiably, as he sat on a fallen log, making himself a sandwich, between two crackers, of the entire bill of fare--sardines, jam, and baked beans. this he consumed in exactly three bites, and proceeded to concoct another one. "well," he said, as he made this second, "you mix 'em all inside, don't you? why not first? saves time." "ugh!" said mrs. jones. "i'm afraid i wasn't born to rough it." "efficiency, i call it," said her husband. "why not, as he says. think i'll try it." "me, too," said bob. "me, too." "me, too," from each of the girls. they all did try it--once--much to mrs. jones' disgust. it did not take long to clean out the sardine tins and the jam jars. then joe produced a piece of sweet chocolate apiece, while the girls called him "a darling thing," and the congressmen lit their cigars and lay back on the grass, while joe and val packed up again. "you go along right away, with the pack-train," said mills to them, "and when you reach the lake, turn toward sun camp, till you come to the point of land. start making camp by that. we'll come slower." so joe had to climb back on popgun--reluctantly, for he hated to leave this beautiful upland meadow, and led the way down the trail, with the eight packhorses behind him, and val bringing up the rear. of course, he and val were thus so far apart they could not talk, and with nothing in front of him, it seemed almost as if he were alone, plunging into the unknown wilderness. the trail immediately fell over the edge of the meadow, into timber, and began to descend steeply, the woods growing more dense and the trees much larger as the trail dropped down, till, after a mile or two, they were in a heavy forest of big fir trees. as they neared the bottom land, the footing got heavy, too, and finally the trail was mostly black mud. they plodded through this for a mile or more, and then, through the great tree trunks, joe began to see light, and, high up, the red and white and gray tops of mountains, and finally, after they had turned to the left by a rushing stream, and followed down it a ways, he saw the dancing waters of a green lake. a short distance now, and they were beside this lake. it was, joe knew, st. mary lake, the upper end of the same lake he had seen on the trip in from the railroad on the motor bus. as he came out on an open headland on the shore, he could not help pulling up his horse, and looking at it. val trotted up beside him. "some pond, eh?" said the cowboy. "i like this puddle. good fish in it, too." but joe was not thinking of fish then. he was thinking--well, he could not have told you what he was thinking; maybe he was just feeling. it was all so huge, and awe-inspiring, and yet so beautiful! the lake was two miles wide, he fancied, and went out of sight around a headland to the east. to the west, it seemed to run right up into a big cañon that ended bang against blackfeet glacier, mount jackson, and the sawtooth peaks of the great divide. directly opposite, two huge rock pyramids came sheer down into the water. "those are red eagle and little chief mountains," said val. "see that house over on the one little island? that's where the president of the great northern railroad lives in summer. come on, though, we can't look at the pretty pictures. we've got to get tents up for the others. she doesn't like to rough it, mrs. jones don't. say, i bet she asks you to heat her curling irons to-night." joe laughed. "why didn't you remind me of the forks?" said he. "i'm green, you know, and get rattled." "forks, what for? let her use her pickers. it'll do her good," said val. joe laughed again. val was just what he wanted a cowboy to be--jolly, reckless, without any reverence for any one or anything. he liked him especially because when it came to doing any job, he went right at it cheerfully and did it. they now trotted east, along the border of the lake, directly in front of them towering up the huge and beautifully shaped pinkish-gray pyramid of going-to-the-sun mountain. after a mile or so, val called out for joe to turn off the trail, and he obeyed, going down through the woods to a long spit of rocks and earth and little trees which had been pushed out into the lake by a roaring brook, which now flowed through the middle of it. here they dismounted and unloaded the horses, which val led back to the trail, and then took somewhere up the slopes to their night feeding. meanwhile joe set about making camp. he first picked out a good place for the fire pit, and built that. he got out what he was going to need for supper, and then set about collecting dead wood for his fire. he did not have to go far, either, for the whole rocky beach of the lake was lined with driftwood, and he cut up a good supply, made a fire, and put on two kettles of water to boil, one with some of the beef in it for a stew, one for soup. then he went at the task of setting up the tent the ranger had packed, in which he and mills would sleep, and in which he would keep his provisions. he had hardly finished, and had the stuff stowed into it, when up the trail he heard voices, and a moment later the party came in sight. they were mostly silent now--only bob and the girls were doing any talking. their mothers were hanging forward over the horns of their saddles, thoroughly tired out, and the two congressmen looked nearly as fagged as the women. "can i help?" joe asked the ranger, after the party had dismounted, and the older people had flopped on the ground. "no, get supper as soon as you can, that's all. dick and i will pitch the tents. where's val?" "he took the horses somewhere." "good. he can take these, too, when he gets back. that'll please him a whole lot! why didn't he wait till he had the whole bunch?" joe looked quickly at mills' face, for he had never seen the ranger cross before. mills managed a grin, when he saw the look. "yes, i got a grouch," he said, in a low tone. "it's that jones woman. you'd think she wanted a twin-six limousine to bring her over piegan pass! what'll you take to throw her in the lake?" "wait for val. he'll do it for nothing," joe laughed. "she'll feel better soon. i'm goin' to give her two forks." joe went back to his preparations for supper, keeping the fire roaring under his stew to hasten the cooking, and mixing up a batter of flour, condensed milk, one of his precious eggs, and some baking powder, for cakes. the ranger and dick, the other guide, were busy with the tents, one for the three men, and two smaller ones for the four women. the women's tents had little folding cot beds, but the men's did not, and mills, with a wink at joe, gave bob and the two congressmen axes, and told them to go cut themselves boughs to sleep on, from a big evergreen which had blown over. meanwhile, the two girls came over to joe's fire, and watched him work. they sniffed at the kettle of stew. "are we going to have _meat_, really, truly meat, for dinner, cookie?" asked miss jones. "alice, if you call him cookie, he'll poison you, won't you--joe?" said miss elkins. joe looked up and met her twinkling eyes. "sure," he said. "i'll put a charlie chaplin sandwich in it." "mercy, mr. cook, sir cook, my lord cook, reverend cook!" cried alice. "all right, s'long as you don't call me dr. cook," said joe, peeping in the stew kettle to see how it was coming along. "here, no flirting with the cook," mills called out. "you girls have got to make the beds." "all right," laughed lucy elkins. (joe thought to himself that lucy was a nice name.) "where are the sheets and pillow-cases?" "you'll find 'em in the linen closet, next door beyond the bathroom," mills grinned. then she and alice grabbed armfuls of blankets from the packs, and disappeared into the tents. meantime val arrived, and the ranger asked him why he didn't wait and drive all the horses up together. "'cause i'm a natural born mut, and didn't think of it," said val. the ranger growled, and turned away. "because he'd rather do that than pitch tents," he muttered. "all cowboys are lazy." the two weary congressmen and bob now reappeared, with armfuls of evergreen boughs, and the ranger went to show them how to lay their beds. the sun was getting well down toward the tops of the peaks on the great divide to the west. already it was getting colder, and the women had put on their sweaters. the green waters of the lake were lap-lapping against the shore, and the smell of joe's stew was rising with the smoke of the fire. when he saw it was about done, he made a big pot of coffee, then opened his cans of soup, and poured them into the other kettle of boiling water, and mixed it to the right consistency. as soon as this was ready, and val appeared down from the woods above, he pounded a frying-pan and yelled, "come and get it!" in a second he was surrounded. sitting on large stones, or logs washed down by the spring floods in the brook, with their laps or other stones as tables, every one except joe ate the piping hot soup. then they had stew, on tin plates, with bread and coffee and jam, and while the stew was being eaten joe tossed over the "saddle blankets" in his frying-pan. "why don't you go into vaudeville with that act?" bob called to him, as he flapped a cake up with the pan, and caught it neatly, other side down. these they ate with butter from a jar and syrup from a tin can, which joe had stocked at the many glacier store. finally, he gave them preserved peaches for dessert. "poor joe," said lucy, as he passed her dessert to her. "i don't believe we've left a thing for you." "don't you worry about me," joe answered. "i have the supplies in my tent!" she laughed, but he saw that she was watching to see if there really was any supper left for him, and it seemed very good to have some one thinking that way about you. as a matter of fact, there was a little soup left, and a good big plate of stew, and all the jam he wanted, so joe had no complaint. he sat behind his fire and devoured his supper hungrily, before he tackled the final job of cleaning up all the dishes. it would have been quite dark at home by this time, for it was eight o'clock, or more, but up here it was still light enough to read, and as joe took the dishes down to the brook to scour them with clean sand before he poured boiling water over them, he looked up into the west, and saw the great, towering pyramids of the mountains, blue against the sunset sky, with their snow patches and glaciers all rosy pink. the two girls were standing near him, and when they saw him looking, they said, "isn't it lovely?" "i never saw anything so beautiful," joe answered, simply. "i like mountains, but these are such big ones, and there are so many colors in 'em!" "joe, i believe you're a poet," lucy said. "well, if your poetry is as good as your coffee, shakespeare will have to watch out," alice laughed. joe turned red again, and nearly dropped his stack of plates. when he had the dishes washed and the fire-wood ready for morning, he found that the ranger had built a big camp-fire in front of the tents, and placed some logs about it, to lean against, while sitting on the ground. everybody was sitting in a ring, glad of the warmth now that the cold night chill was falling from the peaks--all but the two cowboys, who had disappeared. "they've gone to the sun camp chalets, half a mile down the trail," said mills, when somebody asked where they were. "and where's joe?" said lucy. "oh, there he is. come on in the house, joe, where it's warm. mr. mills is going to tell us a bedtime story." she made room for joe to sit beside her, and he sank down, weary and sore, for they had ridden twenty-two miles that day, and he had cooked for eleven hungry people. "now mr. mills--begin!" she commanded. the poor ranger turned red in his turn. "gosh," he said, "i couldn't tell a story. i don't know any stories." "oh, yes you do--you must." "tell us a bear story." cried bob. "and tell it quick, or dad'll be telling one of those he gets off in after dinner speeches, and we'll all be asleep." "bob, i'm too sore and tired to thrash you," laughed the congressman. "but you're never too tired to tell a story, dad. hurry, mr. mills, i can see one coming now!" "if i had a child like that, i'd--i'd----" mr. elkins began. "you'd send him to congress to listen to all the speeches there for punishment," chortled the irrepressible bob. "please, mr. mills, a bear story." "yes, a bear story!"--from the men. "a _grizzly_ bear story!"--from alice. "a _great_, big grizzly bear story!"--from lucy. "and put in the middle-sized bear, and the little weeny bear, too, if you want to." the ranger laughed. "well," he said, "i can tell you a bear and a lion story, if that'll do." he threw another driftwood log on the fire, and began. chapter x--the ranger tells a grizzly bear story before the camp-fire "the first thing you want to remember about old mr. silver tip," said the ranger, "is that he's a good deal like a lot o' big, strong men, he's too powerful to be scrappy. you hear a lot o' stories about grizzlies bein' terrible fighters, and they sure can fight when they're cornered, or when old mother bear thinks her cubs are in danger. but if a silver tip can possibly get away, he gets. that's not because he's afraid, either, of anything on earth except a high power rifle. it's because he ain't lookin' for trouble. mr. silver tip is afraid of a rifle, all right, and he's about the smartest of all animals in keeping away from it, too. but there's nothing else he's afraid of, and before man came into these mountains to shoot him, he just wandered around here, the king pin, and nobody bothered him a bit, no sir." "but don't grizzlies have to fight to kill anything as big as a moose?" asked bob. "they don't kill anything as big as a moose," the ranger said. "oh, once in a blue moon an old bear will go wrong, and take to killing cattle. down in wyoming there was a silver tip used to kill cattle, and two hundred men and dogs hunted him a month, and never did get him. but mostly they live on roots and berries and mice and ground squirrels and dead birds and animal carcases something else has killed. why, i've seen a grizzly digging out a ground squirrel in the early spring, just after he'd come out of his winter nest, not far from my cabin, and a lot of sheep, down there to get the early grass, walking right up close to him to see what he was up to. when they got too close--sheep are kind o' curious, like kids and women--he just _woufed_ at 'em, to drive 'em off. they weren't afraid of him eatin' 'em, though, at all, and he could have cleaned out the flock with about two bites. "well, this is just to show you how little fear mr. silver tip has that anything but a man can do him any harm, or will dare try it. i was hunting once over west of the flathead river, in bear country, and i had a dead horse out in a clearing for bait. up in a tree on the edge of the clearing i'd built myself a kind of blind, where i could watch. you see, most bears can climb trees, but the grizzly can't, so when one comes after you, bob, you just beat it up the nearest trunk." "thanks for the tip--the silver tip, as you might say," the boy laughed. "well," mills went on, "by 'n' by along into the clearing come two lions, long, lean, hungry lookin', sneaky beasts they are, too--i hate 'em--and they fell to on the carcase, and began to eat. thinks i, i'd wait and see what happened, instead of killin' 'em and maybe scarin' off the bear with the shots so's he'd never come back. sure enough, the old boy came galumphing along presently, and went up on his hind legs when he saw the lions at his festal board, as you might say. then he dropped down again, and just walked right up, stuck his big shoulders in between the two lions, shovin' 'em apart, and began to eat." "that's no way to treat a lion," said lucy. "no, specially as one of 'em was a lady lion," mills laughed. "but that's what old silver tip did. the lions naturally didn't like it, and one of 'em snarled, and up with his paw and fetched the bear a nasty swipe. then i expected to see trouble. "but what do you think the old bear did? he just kind of side-cut with one of his big paws and caught that lion a blow that sent him spinning head over tail twenty feet down the slope. then he went right on eating. he didn't look at the other lion, he didn't even look around to see what the first one was goin' to do. 'peared as if he was quite certain what they'd both do, and they done it. they both took a quick sneak into the woods, and left mr. silver tip to his feast. you couldn't have brushed off a mosquito more calmly. i says to myself then that it showed how sure of himself the grizzly is--he's king of the forest, all right." "and did you shoot him after that?" lucy asked. "sure i shot him." "i think you were real horrid," she said. "maybe," mills answered. "but i'm still wearin' his skin in winter." "how many shots did it take?" asked one of the congressmen. "i've always heard you have to pump a grizzly full of lead, and then use a knife to defend yourself, after your last shell is emptied." "the feller that told you that was a bum shot," said the ranger. "'course there are a lot of bum shots come out here huntin'. one bullet, in the brain, the upper part of the heart, or the right place in the spine, will drop a silver tip like a sack o' grain. you've got to know where to hit, and you've got to hit there, naturally. trouble is, green hunters get scared or rattled, and don't aim right, and half the time when they think they're plugging the bear they're really peppering the rocks behind him. i wouldn't want to hunt 'em myself with a single shot rifle, but i could if i had to. a city chap in one of our parties once, over in the blackfeet forest, smashed all four of a bear's legs with bullets, and then the bear, tryin' to get away, fell into a stream and drowned to death. our cook asked the feller why he didn't chuck him in to start with, and save shells." "when you going to show us a bear?" bob demanded. "mercy, i do hope it isn't very soon!" cried bob's mother. "i'm sure _i_ don't want to meet one. i don't suppose there are any in the park any more." "oh, yes, more 'n ever," said the ranger, managing a secret wink to joe. "why, there was two women from boston once, sitting in broad day on the steep cut bank of a stream, and they heard crashings in the bush, and looked back and seen a big grizzly coming right toward 'em, and they yelled like comanches and fell right down the bank into the water, and waded across up to their necks and beat it back to camp." "better stick close to brave little bobbie, ma," laughed her son. "i won't let the naughty big bear bite you. but when are you going to show me one, mr. mills?" "day after to-morrow," said the ranger. joe pricked up his ears. it sounded as if mills meant it. "is that a threat or a promise?" lucy asked. "promise for bob, a threat for mrs. jones, i guess," said the ranger, rising from the ground, and adding, "who's ready for bed?" "better ask who isn't," somebody laughed. joe went as far out on the rocky spit into the lake as he could get; he could see the dying camp-fire gleaming red back under the trees; and all around him, over the dim, starlit water, rose the majestic mountains, great walls of shadow rearing up half-way to the top of the sky. it was a still, solemn scene, and he felt very small as he crouched by the lake and cleaned his teeth in water that was almost as cold as ice. when he got back to camp every one was abed, and he crawled into the tent with mills and wrapped himself up in his blankets, with only his poncho for a mattress, and almost before he had got his body fitted into the unevennesses of the ground he was fast asleep. chapter xi--to gunsight lake, and joe falls into a crevasse on blackfeet glacier the ranger was the first up in the morning. he gave joe a shake by the shoulder, and joe half opened one sleepy eye and said, "aw, ma, it ain't time to get up yet." then he heard mills chuckle, and he realized where he was. he looked at his watch, and saw that it was almost six. outside, it was broad daylight, and the sun was flooding up the lake. joe sat up and threw back the blankets. "golly, i'm sore and stiff," he said, rubbing himself. "been sleeping on a cot, and i'm soft, i guess." "you also did twenty-two miles yesterday," mills remarked. "well, i haven't told 'em yet, but we're going to do only seven to-day, and then have a side trip for the young folks. guess mother jones will want to stay in camp and help you get supper." "she'd better try!" cried joe, springing up at the word "supper," for it reminded him that it was his job to get breakfast. he had a quick wash in the brook which ran past the camp, and set about making some biscuit, bacon and eggs, coffee and flapjacks. his fire was going merrily, and in its heat he had begun to get warm (for the night chill was still in the air, and you could almost see your breath), when he saw congressman elkins poking a sleepy face out of the men's tent flap, with his hair all tousled, and his body bent half double. he spied the fire, and made a hobble for it. "say, joe, let me get some of that heat, will you?" he said. "sure," joe laughed. "didn't you have blankets enough?" "i had five--ought to be enough, in the third week of july, you'd think. but i shivered all night, and every time i shivered a new branch in our wonderful bough bed found a fresh spot on my anatomy to puncture. i'm beginning to think mrs. jones is right about this roughing it stuff." "no, sir, she isn't," joe answered, as he set his batter of biscuit over the fire. "only you have to learn how to do it, and get hardened to it a bit, too. how'd you have the blankets?" "how'd i have 'em? over me, of course." "that's the trouble," said joe. "the secret of sleeping warm is to have 'em _under_ you, too. that's where as much cold comes as from above, even in a bed. you roll yourself up in 'em to-night and see if you're not warm." "where'd you learn all this?" the congressman asked. "you look pretty young to be a camp cook. live around here?" "oh, no, sir, i live in massachusetts. i learned how to camp as a boy scout. my chum--another scout--and i came out here this summer, because i was--i wasn't very well. he's got a job at many glacier tepee camp, and i'm getting so well now mr. mills got me to go as cook, 'cause i'd made coffee and things for him and he knew i could cook." "i suppose you learned cooking as a scout, too, eh?" "yes, sir," joe answered, pouring out the ground coffee into the pot. "i worked to get a merit badge in cooking. you see, i could help mother with it, too, when she was sick, or anything." "well, i'm beginning to have a better opinion of the boy scouts every minute," the man laughed, sniffing the food and warming his hands by the blaze. "i thought it was just a kind of fad." "oh, no, sir!" joe cried. "why, all our little scouts, after a year, are lots better boys, and everybody says it's been a fine thing for the town!" "here, daddy, you stop bribing the cook to give you breakfast in advance!" a laughing voice interrupted them. joe turned, and saw lucy elkins coming from her tent. her hair was down her back, in brown waves, so that she looked almost like a little girl, and she was smiling and bright and gay as the morning sun. "i suppose _you_ slept well," her father said, "weren't cold and no pine boughs in your ribs." "i don't know," she answered. "i slept so hard i can't tell whether i was cold or not. but i know i'm hungry. why don't you wake everybody up, joe, and let's get to business." she went off up the brook with her tooth-brush and towel, and the ranger, taking a pan, beat reveille on it with two sticks. other sleepy heads emerged, mrs. jones last of all, looking very cross and shivery. by the time they had all got fully dressed and washed, and the girls had braided their hair (letting the braids hang down their backs), the two guides appeared. they had spent the night just down the lake at the sun camp chalets, with other guides, friends of theirs. joe set his eggs to cooking last of all, got the dishes ready, poured the coffee, and then gave the now familiar yell, "come and get it!" that is a call in glacier park no one has to hear a second time. even mrs. jones perked up, and stopped complaining about how cold she was, and how she hated to clean her teeth in ice water, and how she missed her morning bath, and silenced her own tongue with a bite of bacon that was more nourishing than ladylike in size. the breakfast disappeared in double quick time, and val went up the hill for the horses, while mills and dick began to strike the tents and arrange the packs, and joe cleaned his dishes and packed his provisions. at half-past eight, the party was in the saddle again, mills at the head, and started up the trail, along the lake shore, toward the gleaming white field of blackfeet glacier and the red, snow-spangled cone of mount jackson. "where are we bound to-day?" some one asked. "only seven miles, to gunsight lake," the ranger answered. "i thought maybe you'd like an easy stage to-day, and this afternoon those that wanted to could go up on the glacier." "the man is almost intelligent!" mrs. jones exclaimed. "only seven miles--that sounds more reasonable to me." they were seven easy miles, too, up a streamside by an easy grade, a good deal of the way through tall timber, and past a beaver dam, the first one joe had ever seen. it was made of small logs, twigs and grasses, all matted together, and plastered neatly and tightly with mud, and must have been a hundred feet long and perhaps three feet high, so that a considerable little pond had backed up behind it, in which, rising above the water, were the huts, which looked like larger and better built muskrat huts. joe pulled down his horse to a slow walk as he passed, and saw the little canals the beavers had made, leading from the bed of the stream back into the willow and aspen swamp. he figured out that the chief reason the beavers build dams is so they can flood such a grove of young willows, aspens, etc., and float out the tiny logs they cut (the young shoots, with tender bark), to their houses, where they store them for winter food. later he asked mills, and found he was right. when the beavers can find deep water, with food trees right on the bank, they will not bother to make dams. joe lingered till val yelled at him to "get a move on," hoping he might see one of the little animals at work, but the beaver works mostly at night when he has to be above water, and not one was now to be seen. it was a short, easy trip to gunsight lake, and they reached the open meadow at its foot by eleven o'clock. the lake, a smallish one, lay at the bottom of a great horseshoe amphitheatre. if you will imagine the harvard stadium two or three miles long instead of two or three hundred yards, with sides almost precipitous and three thousand feet high, and a green lake where the football gridiron is, you have a picture of gunsight. the closed end of the horseshoe was the divide, and that was where the gunsight pass lay, over which they would climb to-morrow. the north side was fusillade mountain, the south side was the great shoulder of mount jackson (the summit being invisible from this point). the meadow where they were to camp was just out at the open end, where they could see around the shoulder of jackson to the glittering field of blackfeet glacier, the largest in the park, hung on the upper slopes of the divide, to the southwest, and where, behind them, rose the huge cliffs of citadel mountain, which is exactly like old fort sumter or the old fort on governor's island, enlarged to the "_nth_" power. (if you don't know what "enlarged to the _nth_ power" means, it's either because you have not studied your algebra, or have not reached algebra yet.) the floor of the meadow was full of wild flowers, especially the great, tall white spikes of the indian basket grass, and full, too, of low balsams and pines. close to the shore of the lake lay a big pile of lumber, old, twisted iron beds, half a cook-stove, and the like. "what on earth happened here?" asked mrs. elkins. "avalanche," said the ranger. "was a chalet here--gunsight chalet. in the winter of - a snowslide started down jackson, and this is what's left." "oh, heavens!" mrs. jones cried, looking up the red precipices of jackson to the snow-fields far above, "do you suppose there'll be another one?" "we don't often have 'em in july, marm," said mills briefly, "but you never can tell," and he winked at joe. they now pitched tents near the lake, and joe set about cooking a hot lunch, for he had plenty of time. while the water was heating, he got some boards from the pile of wreckage, and made a rough table and benches. then he started out to gather some flowers. lucy and alice saw him, and came to help. the three of them, in ten minutes, found thirty different kinds of flowers, all in a space of two or three hundred feet, and made three bunches, which they stood in tin cans on the table, and then put little pine boughs around the cans "to camouflage them," as joe said. "i told you joe was a poet," lucy said to alice. "i'll bet he'll produce a table-cloth in a minute." "can't do that," joe laughed, "unless you'll climb up and get me one of those up there----" and he gestured toward the white snow-fields far up the cliffs, which did, indeed, look like huge sheets, or table-cloths, flung on the rocky ledges to dry. as soon as the tents were pitched, and lunch was over, mills said: "well, who wants to go up to blackfeet glacier?" "i do!" from bob. "i do!" from lucy. "i do!" from alice. "i do, if i can go on horseback," from mr. elkins. "same as elkins," from mr. jones. "i want to sit still," from mrs. jones. "i couldn't leave mrs. jones all alone," from mrs. elkins. "you haven't spoken, joe," said lucy. poor joe--how he wanted to climb up and see a real glacier! but he smiled bravely and cheerfully. "i shall have to stay and get dinner," he answered. "oh, that's too bad! i just _know_ you're dying to see the glacier. mr. mills, wouldn't we be back in time for joe to get dinner, if he went?" "well, we might be, if dinner was a bit late, and you didn't have a roast turkey," the ranger said. "well, i move we have late dinner, and take joe along. all in favor, say aye." bob and alice yelled "aye!" and mr. elkins said, "jones and i are paired, so it's a vote." joe tried to say some word of thanks to lucy, but he couldn't manage it. besides, he had no time, for mrs. jones broke in: "well, i'd like to know if you expect mrs. elkins and me to stay here all alone?" "you might be getting the dinner, martha," her husband grinned. "val will stay in camp," mills said. "he's fed up on glaciers, anyhow, ain't you, val?" the young cowboy nodded. "you can have 'em all," he said, "and welcome." so joe found himself in the small party headed for blackfeet glacier, as soon as he had put his stew to simmer over a small fire, which val promised to keep going. mills took three of the strongest ropes from the packs, and they set off up the steep, rough trail climbing the shoulder of jackson. they soon had a superb view below them, first of the meadow, with their own tents like white dots in it, and then back down the cañon to st. mary lake, and the great pink and gray pyramid of going-to-the-sun mountain. but it was not long before every one stopped looking at the view, and paid entire attention to the trail. this was a side trail, not one of the regular tourist highways, and it was not built for comfort. it was tremendously steep, and very rough, more like a flight of high, irregular stone steps than a path. "oh, i think this is terrible on the poor horses!" lucy said, as her horse scrambled up a rock, and she had to cling to his mane to stick on the saddle. "get out and walk, then," mills called back. "grab hold of your horse's tail, and let him pull you up." "say, what you giving us?" said bob. "think i want to go down the hill again backwards?" mills laughed. "think these horses are mules?" he answered. "see, this is the way." he got off his horse, grabbed it by the tail, and to everybody's surprised amusement, the horse started up, with the ranger scrambling behind him, half climbing, half being pulled along. every one else got off, too, and in single file, each person clinging to his horse's tail, they began the ascent again. the horses, being considerably longer legged than men, climbed faster up the high steps than a man could do alone, but with the horse's tail to hang on to, you could manage to keep up. everybody laughed at first, yelling at one another, but in three minutes the yells had ceased, and in five, the laughter. no one had any breath left for that. if joe had thought, he probably would have been frightened, for he was certainly disobeying the doctor, but he was having too good a time to remember doctors, and as even the lack of breath did not make him cough, he had nothing to remind him. panting, covered with perspiration, the two congressmen were about ready to quit. they presently reached a more level place, a high upland meadow covered with flowers, and mounting again rode up and across this, and came at last near the lower edge of a great snow-field, which stretched away southward for three miles, broken here and there by peninsulas and islands of rock, and stretched upward clear to the summit of the divide over their heads, at an angle of about forty-five degrees at first, but much steeper near the top. "the biggest glacier in the park," said mills. "where?" said mr. elkins. "all i see is snow." "i know it--too bad, but we had so much snow last winter it's not melted off yet. but take my word for it, that's all ice underneath." "hooray, let's climb out on it!" bob shouted. "not for me--i've climbed enough to-day," his father said, still puffing. it ended with the two congressmen resting in the meadow, while mills, dick the guide, joe, the girls, and bob, climbed up some way over the rocks without any trail, and reached at length a place where the vast snow-field seemed to be sliding down past them, like a huge, silent river. of course, it did not move, but it gave that illusion. "what a place to ski!" said joe. "wow!" yelled bob, "you bet! you'd get some jump at the bottom, too." mills grinned. "about as far as whichever place you're going to when you die," he said, as he began to uncoil his three ropes, fastening them together. "what's the big idea?" asked bob. "that snow's soft; you wouldn't slip in that." and, to prove it, he started down the rocks, and out on to the snow-covered glacier. mills suddenly spoke with a sharp note joe had never heard him use. "come back here!" he said. bob came. "now, joe," he said, "you go first on the rope, because you've got spikes in your shoes. we've got to look out for crevasses. sound your footing when it looks suspicious. we'd need alpine stocks to go far." he fastened one end under joe's arms. "you next, dick, to brace if joe goes under. then the rest of you, and i'll be the rear anchor." he made the rope fast around dick, twenty feet behind joe, then told bob and the girls to hold it fast at equal intervals, and fastened the rear end around his own waist "now, joe, let her go," he said. joe went down the rocks, and out on the great snow-field, tilted like the roof of a house. it was soft, as bob had said, but not like ordinary soft snow. it was more like walking in cold, wet, rock salt, and the footing was anything but sure. joe went cautiously, slowly climbing upward and outward at the same time, and as he looked below him, down that smooth, glistening, white slope, and realized that if he once got started sliding he would probably go half a mile and shoot off the lower edge into space, he felt his heart, for a minute, go down somewhere into his boots. so he looked up, instead of downward, and felt better. everything went well for some hundreds of yards, and the whole party, on their rope, were well out on the great snow-field, when joe saw just ahead of him a very slight depression in the snow. bracing with his right foot, he put his left forward, and hit this depression smartly. it caved in! he tried to spring back, yelling to dick to brace, but his right foot, with nothing but snow for the spikes to hold in, slipped, and he felt himself going down. he had no time to think, only just a terrible flash in his brain of accidents he had read about to alpine climbers, before the rope caught him under the armpits with a cruel yank; he hung for a minute surrounded by the wet, cold snow which was falling down his neck, and then he felt himself being tugged up again by dick. mills had come up, bringing the rope around bob and the girls in a loop, by the time dick had him out. "hurt?" he asked. joe was poking snow out of his neck, and loosening the grip of the rope under his arms. "i--i guess not!" he panted. "gee, that gave me some surprise, though. i thought something was coming, and tested it with one foot, but the other slipped." "we ought to have ice axes," mills said. "the snow's getting too thin. back's the word." joe looked around at the rest of the party, and saw that lucy and alice had turned deadly pale, and even bob was looking sober. "are you sure you aren't hurt, joe?" lucy asked. "i'll get dinner, o.k.," joe answered. meanwhile mills had approached the hole where joe went under, and called the rest to come and look, one by one, while he and dick braced the rope. joe looked, too. his fall had collapsed a snow bridge over a crevasse, and through the hole, which was six feet wide or more, they could see down through a layer of snow into what looked like a bottomless slit between walls of dirty green ice. a cold, damp, chilling breath came up from the hole, and far below they could hear water running. "now you get the big idea, bob, eh?" said mills. "see why we had the rope?" "yes, and i bet old cookie's glad it was a strong one," bob replied. "say, i wish it had been me'd been ahead!" "oh, do you?" the ranger laughed. "want to be lowered down?" "oh, no--mr. mills!" alice cried. "cheer up, he wouldn't let me," mills grinned. "besides, he's too fat and heavy to pull up again." "if a feller fell down there, and they didn't get him up, and he froze into the ice, would he come out some time at the bottom of the glacier?" bob asked. "i guess he would," said mills, "but his widow might get tired waiting and marry again." "mr. mills, you're perfectly awful" said lucy, with a shudder. "take us back from this horrid place." [illustration: crevasse in blackfeet glacier] they went back carefully in their own tracks, and rejoined the congressmen, who, it seemed, had climbed where they could watch, and had seen the whole thing from a distance. there was much excited talk about joe's experience all the way down (on the down trip they led their horses over the steep part, needing no help on the descent), and joe, sore as he was under the arms and rather shaky from the shock, began to feel like quite a hero. in fact, by the time they reached the level meadows at camp, it did not seem terrible at all, and every one had begun to enjoy it. "except me," said lucy. "i shall dream all night of the way poor joe's head went suddenly out of sight, and i saw dick bracing on that rope and wondered if it would hold!" "the moral is," said her father, "have a good rope." "i should say the moral was, don't climb in foolish places," mrs. jones declared, for the two women had of course been told the story at once. "gee, ma," bob declared, "if everybody was like you, we wouldn't know there were any rocky mountains. somebody's got to take a chance!" mills had said nothing. now he spoke, in his brief, quiet way. "it was a sound rope. nobody took a chance," he said. "we don't let 'em in the park." there did not seem to be any reply to this. the girls went into their tent to rest, joe changed his wet boots--which were soaked with the snow--and his wet shirt, and set busily about getting dinner. after all, he was the cook, and there was no further time for being a hero. chapter xii--over gunsight to lake mcdonald, and joe and bob see a grizzly at close range there was no story telling that night. dinner was late, and afterwards the dusk came earlier up here under the shadows of the great cliffs, and every one except the two women was glad enough to crawl in early. joe was gladdest of all. he had to confess that he was tired, as well as sore--and now he realized that he had disobeyed all orders not to climb and take strenuous exercise. but he felt of his head, as his mother used to do, and could detect no fever, and he had not coughed once, so he did not worry enough to keep himself awake more than one minute and a quarter. in the morning, he was awake almost as soon as the ranger, and sat up feeling fine. lucy was the next up, as usual, and once more her cheerful self. she gathered fresh wild flowers--a great bunch of yellow columbine and blue false forget-me-nots, for the "table," while joe was cooking, and asked him how he felt, and sang softly to herself, and then asked him again if the fresh, clear, morning air way up here in these high mountains was not the most wonderful thing in the world. "it's medicine to me, all right," joe answered, looking up and watching the sun come over the rock bastions of citadel and turn to pink and gold the snow-fields on fusillade. "gee, i think mountains--big mountains--are just the best ever!" "the best ever, that's what they are, joe, and you're going back east so big and strong that your own mother won't know you. you must write to me and tell me about it, won't you?" "you bet i will," joe replied, turning red over his fire. it certainly was almost like being home to have some one like lucy elkins be so interested in him, and kindly and sweet. the fire was very smoky, and got into joe's eyes, and he had to wipe them--but lucy did not see, or, if she did, she pretended not to. "well," said mills, after breakfast, "everybody pack. we've got a long day ahead of us, if we stop any time to see the sights." "and where are we going?" somebody asked. "over gunsight pass, and down to lake mcdonald," the ranger answered, pointing up to the great divide at the head of gunsight lake. "do you mean to tell me we are going over that place?" demanded mrs. jones. "why not?" said mills. "why not? well, i'm not one of these rocky mountain goats i hear about." "your horse is," the ranger laughed. as soon as camp was struck, and the horses brought from the upper meadows, where they had wandered in the night, and packed, the party started up the trail. "gunsight pass--i like that name," said bob. "but how did it get the name?" "you'll see when we reach it," mills replied. the trail over gunsight is one of the most interesting in the entire park. the head wall of the horseshoe of rocks which holds the green lake is too steep to climb, so the path gets to the summit by working up the shoulder of jackson, in a long series of inclines, with sharp, steep switchbacks every little way, to boost it a little higher up the steep slope. after climbing for, perhaps, two miles, they reached what appeared to be the level of the divide ahead of them, but they were still around on one side of the horseshoe, and had to make their way along the tremendously steep wall of the mountain till they got to the pass at the centre. between them and this pass lay a huge snow-field, two hundred yards wide, and extending half a mile up the slope, and as far down, and ending at the bottom right on the top of a precipice, which dropped off into the lake. they could hear the melting water from this snow-field falling down far, far below, over the precipice. mills stopped his horse, and studied the ground, while the two women looked at the steep, gleaming, slippery field of snow, steeper than a house roof, at the yawning hole at the bottom, and declared in loud tones that they would _not_ go across. but other parties had been across, and somebody had shoveled out a path, about three feet wide, to make level footing for the horses. still, even so, it was a ticklish place, for if a horse once slid off, there would be no stopping him short of the lake two thousand feet below. "everybody off!" mills ordered. "joe, dick, val," he commanded, "lead all the horses over, one at a time, and then two of you come back." after the horses were across--and they did not have the least fear, even when one of their feet would cut through the soft snow, and they appeared to be in danger of slipping--joe and dick returned, and, with mills, led the two women and the girls over, and helped them back into their saddles. bob and the two congressmen came alone, and in the centre of the slide, bob made a big snowball, and let it roll down. inside of a hundred feet it appeared to be traveling a mile a minute, growing bigger all the time, and finally it hit a rock at the bottom with a loud report, and the broken pieces flew out over the hole below. "say, joe," he called, "great place for skis, eh?" joe laughed, but not very mirthfully. the thought of going down that slope on skis made you sick in the pit of your stomach. it was but a few steps now, around a hanging ledge, to the pass, and as they came out into the small level space on top of the divide, they saw in front of them, forming the northern gate-post of the pass, as it were, a big rock pile shaped exactly like the front sight of a rifle--a sight several hundred feet high. "now you see why it's gunsight pass," said mills to bob. "some gun!" the boy answered. those ahead moved to the western side of the divide, and suddenly joe heard the girls screaming with delight. as soon as he got there, he realized why, for never before had he seen anywhere such a wonderful view. right below them, eight hundred or a thousand feet, lay the loveliest little lake in all the world, oval in shape, a beautiful green in color, possibly half or three-quarters of a mile long. out of one side sprang up the red precipices of mount jackson, from the upper end rose the wall of the divide to their feet, on the other side, sweeping around in a circular curve carved by some ancient glacier as smooth as a drill hole, was the precipice of gunsight mountain. at the farther end of the lake the land just dropped away out of sight, and far off in the distance they could see range after range of purple mountains. right at their feet, almost at the top of the divide, was a pine tree, the only one, the very outmost sentinel of timber-line. it was only eight feet tall, though the trunk was two feet thick, and it was torn and twisted and gnarled by the winds till it looked like a grim old fighter who had left all the rest of his company far below and battled his way on up, almost to the top. [illustration: party crossing near top of gunsight pass] even mrs. jones stopped her horse and admired this view. "it's really worth coming for," she said. "and how she hates to admit it," val whispered in joe's ear, for the whole party was now gathered together on the edge, looking at the prospect. "what's the name of that heavenly little lake?" lucy asked. "lake ellen wilson," mills answered. "oh, dear, it shouldn't be--it ought to have a beautiful indian name, like eye-of-the-morning, or something," said she. "let's name it lake lucy elkins," bob suggested. "seems to suit you." joe thought so, too, but he did not say anything. lucy laughed. "if we only _could_ rename it," she answered, "i certainly would find a pretty indian name. i think it's terrible, the way we take the land away from the indians first, and then give everything new names, in the bargain." the trail now descended in switchbacks to the very shore of the lake, for, although it had to climb up again at the lower, west side, the precipices were so steep in between that the only way to get from one point to the other was to descend to the shore. "and this water is really going to the pacific ocean," said mr. jones, as they reached the lake. "we are over the great divide, bob!" "yes, i feel a change in the climate," the irrepressible bob answered. "that's not such a joke as you think, at that," mills said. "the climate is different over here, as you'll see presently." they had still another pass to go over--lincoln pass (not a part of the divide) before they could begin the final descent to lake mcdonald, and from the lake shore they began to climb again, with the green water between them and the tremendous red walls of jackson, where long, narrow snow-fields clung in the hollows. at the top of lincoln pass was a meadow, on the edge of a precipice, a meadow full of snow-fields, wild flowers, and a few stunted, twisted pines, for it was on the very edge of timber-line. here mills ordered a halt for lunch. "charlie chaplin sandwiches again, joe," he said. "you can make tea if you want to, and can find any wood." joe and bob and the girls between them managed to scrape together enough dead wood to make a small fire, and the water joe got from the little brook flowing out from under a snow-field and starting on its long journey to the pacific ocean. after lunch, everybody wanted to sit around for a bit, and enjoy the view of lake ellen wilson and mount jackson, and joe and lucy got their cameras from their packs, and took pictures of each other on horseback, of the party, of bob and alice climbing down over an edge of the cliff beside a waterfall, and finally of a wonderful, twisted pine. "i love the old trees at timber-line," joe said. "they look so sort of--of heroic." "guess they are, all right," bob laughed. "i'd feel heroic if i stood up here in winter!" almost as soon as they started again, they began to drop down a steep, rocky trail to the sperry camp, a chalet built up on the slopes to accommodate the people who want to climb over the divide just behind it to sperry glacier; and then to drop, by a wide, good trail, past rushing brooks, into the first real forest joe had seen. the climate certainly _was_ different over here--he began to feel it. it seemed warmer, and the air wasn't quite so vividly clear. there was a faint suggestion of haze over the lower blue ranges out to the west. it must be different, he told himself, there must be more rainfall, anyhow, and less severe winter cold, or the trees wouldn't be so much larger. down and down they dropped, through spruces and pines and larches, growing ever taller and larger, till suddenly the trail went into the most wonderful forest joe had ever seen. it was entirely composed of one kind of tree, tall, straight, ghostly gray trees, with a thin bark that shredded in strips on the smaller trunks; and these trees grew so thickly together that their tops made a solid canopy over the ground below, shutting out all sunlight, so that it was almost twilight deep in the heart of the forest. not a living thing grew on the forest floor; it was simply a carpet of brownish, tiny needle-like dead leaves, and of dead sticks and fallen tree trunks. joe heard lucy, ahead of him, saying it reminded her of the woods that hop-o'-my-thumb and his brother got lost in. it reminded him of some great forest he once dreamed about in a nightmare; and yet it was beautiful, because of the ghostly gray of the tall trees, and the utter hush and silence of its dim recesses. "what kind of trees are these?" he called back to val. "they look like some sort of cedar." "you can search me," val answered. "i couldn't tell a tree from a cauliflower. great place for bears, though." the trail here was so wide that joe could trot ahead and ask mills. "yes, they are cedars," mills said. "they call 'em white cedars, i believe. the wood is much softer than your slow-growing cedar in the east. it's a great forest, isn't it?" "makes me sure i want to be a forest ranger," joe answered. "val says it's a great place for bears." "hi, bears, ma!" yelled bob. "val says there's lots of 'em here. say, mr. mills, how soon are you going to show us that bear? you know you promised one to-day." "you'll see it yet--i never break a promise," the ranger answered. they rode on, down through the cedar forest, for a mile more, and suddenly saw light through the trees ahead, trotted into a clearing, and almost immediately found themselves by a good-sized hotel, built out of this very cedar lumber, and on the shore of a big lake. "lake mcdonald," said the ranger. "_and_ a hotel!" cried mrs. jones. "you can all camp where you like, but _i'm_ going to have a room with a bath to-night." "i wouldn't mind one myself," said her husband. "me, too," the other congressman put in. "well, i suppose that means we have to sleep in a stuffy old room to-night, alice," said lucy, "and eat in a dining-room with a lot of people. oh, dear, i prefer joe's cooking!" "looks as if you were going to have a snap to-night, joe," said mills. "you want a room with a bath, too?" "oh, no," said joe. "i'm going to take my blankets up into those cedars and sleep." "you are?" bob cried. "then i'm with you. we won't be quitters, anyhow. us for the rough life--and the bears." "no, bob, you'll come to the hotel with the rest of us," said his mother. "aw, no, ma, let me go with joe! gee whiz, here we come three thousand miles to rough it in the rocky mountains and you go and bunk up in a flossy hotel--roughing it with hot and cold water, and a valet to black your boots!" everybody laughed, and mr. jones said, "let the boy have a good time, mother. i guess he'll fare as well with joe as he would in the hotel. joe's a boy scout, aren't you, joe?" "yes, sir," joe answered. it was finally settled that way, and while the party went into the hotel to get their rooms, joe, the guides and mills unpacked the horses and stabled them, took the dunnage bags of the party to the hotel, and all but joe found their quarters in the annex. joe picked out blankets for two, an axe, some grub and a few cooking utensils, and as soon as bob came back, the two boys carted them back a few hundred yards into the deep woods, in a wild spot well off the trail, made themselves a fire pit against a big stone, which was so covered with green moss they first thought it was a stump, spread joe's poncho for a bed, on a raked up and smoothed heap of the dead needles, and then went back to have a look at the lake before supper. it was still early, and the girls were out on the pier in front. bob spied a canoe for hire, and promptly engaged it. they all four got in, with joe as bow paddle and bob as stern, and paddled straight out into the lake, which was quiet now as the wind died down with the setting sun. as they drew away from the shore, they began to realize what a big lake it is--ten or twelve miles long, with great, dark cedar and evergreen forests coming right down to the water's edge, and by the time they were near the middle, they saw how above these forests here at the upper end rose peak after snow-covered peak, piling up to the great divide. "it looks like a lake in switzerland, doesn't it?" said alice. joe, of course, had never been to switzerland, so he looked all the harder. "only i like it better," lucy answered, "because here, except for the hotel and those few cottages near it, you don't see anything but forest and wilderness. it's so wild and lonely! oh, dear, i'd like to _live_ here!" "i'd like to sail an ice boat here in winter!" said bob. "and i'd like to fish here now," said joe, as a fish jumped half out of the water just ahead of the canoe. "fish! hooray! say, joe," bob called, "if i get a fish early to-morrow, will you cook him for breakfast?" "you bet!" "you horrid things," said alice. "we'll probably be eating breakfast food and canned peaches in the hotel. i hope you don't get your old fish." "ain't that just like a girl!" said bob. they paddled slowly and reluctantly back, as the sunset lit the snow-fields on the great peaks to the east, and turned them pink. the supper gong rang as they landed. "now, bob, be back right after supper, if you want to see that bear," mills called, and joe and bob hurried to their camp to get a quick supper. all they bothered with was soup, some fried ham, and pancakes, with tea. they had large quantities of those things, however, and didn't stop to wash the dishes. "this is no time to be fussy," bob said. "i'll never tell. we gotter see old mr. bear." so they hurried back to the trail, where joe took out a handkerchief, and tied it to a branch. "what's the big idea?" bob demanded. "well, it's so dark here now you can just barely see the trail," joe said. "we could never tell where to turn off by the time we get back. don't want to be hunting all night for our camp." "i get you, sherlocko," bob replied. "now for the bear. hurry up!" the entire party was waiting when they reached the hotel, and mills led the way, back by another road into the cedars, which were now very dark. a lot of other guests were moving in the same direction. after a way, a strong smell began to assault the nose. "smells to me like swill," said bob. "garbage, robert, is a nicer word," said his mother. "well, it doesn't change the smell any," he answered. mills said nothing, but walked on, while the smell grew stronger, and in a moment, by the dim light, they saw that the hotel garbage had been dumped on both sides of the roadway. just ahead a group of people had stopped, and mills led the way up to this group. "there," said he, "i promised you one, but i see five." "where? i don't see anything," said congressman elkins. he was standing on the extreme edge of the road, and just as he spoke something big and dark and mysterious gave a grunt and with a crash of broken sticks reared up not six feet from him. the congressman jumped back and nearly upset mrs. jones, who screamed. at her scream, two other dark forms close to the road moved, and in the dim light the party could see one of these forms go ten feet up the trunk of a half fallen tree. peering into the dark of the woods, joe could at last count, as the ranger said, five bears, two of them huge ones, three smaller (including the one up the tree), and not one of them more than fifty feet away. "the two big ones are silver tips?" he asked. "sure," said mills. "want to pat one?" "no, thanks." "i must say, bears are dirty animals, if this is what they eat," mrs. jones put in, sniffing. "i don't think i like them so near me." "i'm sure _i_ don't," mr. elkins laughed. "of course, i know these are tame, and all that, but--well, it's like the dog the man said wouldn't bite. 'i know it, and you know it,' said the other fellow, 'but does the dog know it?'" just then the big grizzly nearest them, which was standing on his hind legs, gave a low, snarling growl, as if he was mad at being disturbed at supper, and mrs. jones announced determinedly that she was going back. and she went. joe, bob, and the girls wanted to linger, but the older people called them, and they had to go. "well, _that_ wasn't very exciting!" bob complained. "gee, you could have patted 'em, 'most. i wanted to see you shoot one, mr. mills." "i'd as soon shoot a cow as a tame bear," the ranger told him. "you can't shoot anything but lions and coyotes in the park, and only rangers can shoot them. we're protecting game here, not killing it." "wouldn't you kill a bear if it came for you?" mills laughed. "i'd try a tree first," he said. but joe had noted that all the time he stood near the bears, he had his hand on his hip, where his big automatic rested in its holster; and the scout suspected that he wasn't quite so sure about the bears being entirely tame as he pretended. back at the hotel, the first thing they saw was val, in the lobby, with a clean shave, his hair cut and plastered down in a smooth part, a clean shirt and a bright red necktie on, and his best white fur chaps, with silver buckles, on his legs. "oh, look at val, all dressed up like astor's horse!" bob shouted. "where are you going, val?" the girls demanded. "oh, down to the big struggle," said the young cowboy. "the _what_?" they asked. "the big struggle--the dance," said he. "a dance? a dance? where?" "down to the hall. better come." "sure--come, joe, come, bob," lucy cried, and grabbing poor joe by the hand--for joe was scared stiff at a dance, being a poor performer, and besides, he had on his worn scout suit and heavy boots--she led him off, while alice grabbed her equally reluctant brother. the hall was a little annex to the hotel, and when they got there the piano was going, and a lot of people, cowboy guides, waitresses, guests, everybody, was dancing. almost nobody was dressed up for a party as we dress in the east--any kind of rough clothes and stout boots went here, alongside of silk dresses and satin slippers, worn by some of the hotel guests. "gee, i can't dance any more 'n a cow," joe stammered to lucy. "nonsense," she said, "i'll bet you can dance very nicely. anyhow, you've got to try just one with me." so they danced a one-step, and joe managed to get through it without treading on anybody's toe. "there--what did i tell you!" lucy laughed. "of course you can dance. i don't know why it is boys always say they can't." "i got around with you all right," joe answered. "but with most girls i feel 's if i had about twenty pair o' feet." "all you need is practice," said she. "hi," called bob, who had been dancing with his sister, "come over here and pipe the pantalettes!" joe and lucy went into the alcove where he and alice were, and there they saw a stuffed and mounted mountain goat--the first joe had ever seen except in pictures. it stood about three feet high, with long, pure white hair, hanging down in a beard under its chin, and hanging down its legs to a point, as bob said, "just above the tops of its boots, if it wore boots." this hair on its legs did look exactly like the pantalettes you see in pictures of little girls back in the days before the civil war. "there ain't no such animal!" lucy laughed. "i wish we could see one, alive," said bob. "i'm going to hunt one later with a camera--me and spider--he's my chum up at many glacier." at the other end of the dance hall was a mounted sheep--a big old ram, almost six inches taller than the goat, with a magnificent pair of horns which curved up, back, and around till the points touched the base, making a complete circle. even stuffed and mounted, he was a magnificent creature, proud and alert. "oh, i think it's a crime to kill such beautiful animals!" lucy exclaimed. "me, too," said joe. "i'd rather hunt 'em with a camera, get a picture, and leave the animal alive for somebody else to see." "well, _i'd_ like to have a head for my den," said bob. "wish they let you hunt in the park." joe and bob were both so sleepy that they soon left "the big struggle," and started back for the camp. it was almost pitch black now in the cedars, and after they had walked up the trail as far as they thought was right, they had to hunt some minutes before they found the handkerchief. turning off from the path, they stumbled through the woods till they caught the glimmer of red coals from their fire, threw on some fresh wood to get light, and prepared for bed. rolled up tight in their blankets, they were soon fast asleep. it was still pitch dark, and it seemed as if he'd just gone to sleep, when joe was awakened by a noise close by. he felt as much as heard the presence of somebody or something. the fire had again died down to a heap of coals, and only a faint red glow dimly lit the base of the great, ghostly tree trunks close around. joe sat up, straining every nerve of eye and ear. suddenly a dead stick broke with a loud snap not far away, on the side toward the provisions, which had been placed in the fork of a half fallen tree trunk. bob woke up at this, with a jump that brought him, too, into a sitting posture. "wha's 'at?" he exclaimed, in the startled voice of one half awake. the answer was another crash of broken sticks and a deep, guttural growl. at the same instant, by a sudden flicker of flame from the fire, a ray of light shot between the trees and in a flash that was gone almost as quickly as it came, the two boys saw a gigantic shadowy form rear up, it seemed to them ten feet into the air. "it's a grizzly!" bob yelled. "shut up!" joe commanded. he reached over to the bare ground beside him and grabbed a fistful of dry needles and flung them on the fire. the blaze jumped up again brighter, and for just a second they caught a flash of reflection like two sparks, from the bear's eyes, and then the great shadowy bulk dropped down and they heard a crashing through the woods, receding rapidly. joe threw off his blankets and piled wood on the fire till it blazed brightly. then he looked at bob, and laughed. the boy was still sitting up on the poncho, his blankets half off, his mouth half open, and his eyes big with fright. "brace up," joe said. "he was only after our grub. they're tame around here." "tame your grandmother!" bob retorted. "i don't care if they are. do you think i'm goin' to sleep with a grizzly bear 'most under my bed?" he began to get up. "where you going?" said joe. "back to the hotel." "what good'll that do? nobody'll be up to let you in." he looked at his watch. "it's two o'clock," he added. "well, there's a couple of hammocks on the veranda. that's good enough for yours truly." "going to leave me here alone?" "i don't give a hang what you do. you can let the old bear sleep with you if you want to. it's me for the hotel." and he began lacing up his boots. "well, i'm not going to stick around here all alone--besides, you'd never find your way back alone in the dark." "_that's_ a good alibi!" said bob. "guess you don't want to stay much yourself." "as a matter of fact, i don't--not alone," joe admitted. they gathered up their provisions and blankets, poured the water for their morning coffee on the fire, and started back for the trail. it was hard work finding it, in the inky dark, and every time they heard a noise in the blackness around them bob yelled, "beat it, you bear!" with the evident idea that would drive the creature away. they knew when they reached the trail only by the feeling of hard, even ground under their feet, but at the hotel the starlight over the lake was clear and comforting, and sneaking up on the veranda, they spread their blankets in the hammocks, and went to sleep again, with the soft lap, lap, lap of the water on the beach just below as a lullaby. joe woke early and roused bob. "say, if we don't want to be guyed for the rest of the trip, we've got to beat it from here now, 'fore anybody spots us, and get our breakfast up the shore some place." "i know!" bob whispered. "we'll take a fish-pole and a boat from the boat-house and catch a breakfast! we can pay for the boat when the man gets up. what time is it?" "four o'clock." "only four? gee, it's day already, too. come on." they piled their stuff into a boat, took a fish-pole from the eaves of the boat-house, found some bait in a pail, and rowed out as noiselessly as they could, and up along the shore. joe rowed, while bob kept casting from the stern. finally he gave a yell, and joe saw his line go under, and stopped rowing to watch the sport. he had a big one, all right, and it fought well. bob was fifteen minutes in landing him, but had him in the boat finally, and hit him over the head. the fish was as much as eighteen inches long, or more, and must have weighed four pounds. "what's it, anyhow?" bob asked. "cut-throat trout," said joe. "i saw a man catch two or three at lake mcdermott. i'll bet it's good, too. come on--we'll have some breakfast! good job you did landing him, too, without a reel. i thought your old line would bust two or three times." they rowed in to the heavily wooded shore, built a fire right by the lake, cleaned the fish, and joe fried the choicest parts, with a few thin strips of bacon, coffee and biscuits. then they fell to. the grizzly, the restless night, the early rise--they'd really had only four hours of good sleep--were all forgotten while that hot, sizzling, delicious breakfast lasted. "say," bob remarked, as he swallowed his last mouthful, "i feel like licking my chops, the way our old cat does! you sure are some cook. i'm going to learn to cook, too, and go camping every summer. this is the life!" "bears and all," joe laughed. "aw, forget the old bear! don't seem so bad, now it's daylight. say,--not a peep, remember, about that old bear." "i won't say anything if you don't," joe promised. they rowed back now, and found the boat-keeper up. bob explained why they took the boat, and paid the rental for it, and for the fish-pole. the man was good-natured and made no complaint. "guess it's all right," he said. "'course, if you hadn't got a fish i'd had to charge you more." "i suppose if we'd got two fish you'd have given us the boat free," bob laughed. they carried their stuff back to the stable, where the rest of the packs were, and had returned to the hotel lobby and were busily writing souvenir postcards to all their friends back at home when the party came down to breakfast. "hullo, boys!" everybody said. "where's that fish?" bob rubbed his stomach. "did you really get one?" lucy demanded. "and you've eaten it all yourselves? oh, you mean, greedy things!" "well," bob declared, "you folks wouldn't camp with us. go in and eat your old canned peaches and hunks of whisk broom and condensed cream. gee, joe 'n' i have had some night, all right! old big ben woke us up----" "careful!" joe cautioned. "what do you mean--big ben?" asked bob's mother. "oh, just our name for a pet bear we've acquired," bob laughed, ignoring joe's caution. "a dear, pretty, tame old silver tip who came right into camp and tried to kiss old joe, but joe slapped his face and said, 'naughty, naughty,' and he got real cross." "what _do_ you mean? did a bear come into your camp? oh, how lovely!" alice cried. "lovely! well, i must say----" mrs. jones began. "what _really_ happened?" bob's father demanded. "yes, tell the truth, bob, now you've put your foot in it," joe laughed. "oh, gosh, i can't keep an old secret," said the boy. "me and joe--joe and me----" "joe and _i_----" said his mother. "well, joe and i were snoring away like a couple o' buzz saws, when snap went a stick, and woke me up, and joe was sitting up already, and gosh all hemlock, but it was dark! and then the fire flickered, and we saw old big ben on his hind legs not two feet away----" "oh, six feet, make it six!" joe laughed. "well, six, and he was ten feet tall, and growling like anything, or sort of snarling, and i said, 'go 'way, you spoiled my dream'--just like that, and he went, and then joe said he wouldn't stay there any more, 'cause he didn't like to be disturbed that way, so----" "_i_ said it! well, i like that!" joe cried. bob grinned. "well, anyhow, you wouldn't stay after i went, you know you wouldn't," he said. "so we beat it for the hotel, and slept in the hammocks on the porch till four, and then we got a boat and i caught a four pound trout----" "how do you know it was a four pounder?" his father asked. "weighed him by his own scales," bob replied. "and then joe cooked him, and we had _some_ breakfast. thank you all for your kind attention, ladies and gents. this concludes our portion of the entertainment." everybody laughed but mrs. jones. she couldn't get over the idea that her son had really "been exposed to a bear," as she put it. "was bob as gay as this last night?" lucy asked joe, as the party headed toward the dining-room. "he was not!" joe answered. "made me promise not to tell a soul that we'd been scared back to the hotel." "aw, well," bob laughed, "i got more fun out of telling than keeping an old secret. besides, i don't care who knows you were afraid! come on down and see the motor boats, while they're eating their whisk brooms." chapter xiii--in avalanche basin, where bob learns that the story of the englishman's walk before breakfast was no joke when mills arrived after breakfast, he reported that the party was to spend the day going down the lake in a motor launch to the office of the superintendent of the park, on the west shore, near the lower end, where they were to have dinner. "that means a holiday for you, joe," the ranger said. "they'll spend the night here at the hotel again. but you'll get paid just the same. you're your own boss to-day." when the launch had left, joe began the day by visiting the barber shop and getting his hair cut, for he had not been near a barber since he left southmead. then he made himself two or three sandwiches for a lunch, put them in his pocket, and set off back up the trail through the cedar forest. he had never been in such a wood before, a real piece of the primeval forest, where no axe had ever been, except to clear the trail, where the trees had fought for existence in such dense stands that they had to shoot up straight and high for sun, without any lower branches whatever, and where so many had died in the struggle that their trunks lay, right and left, blocking every passage. it had always been joe's ambition to become a forester, and this wood and these trails over the rocky mountains had more than ever made him sure that was the job for him. so now he headed up into the timber, intent on a long day's study of the trees, the way they grew, the effects of soil and water and winter storms. it was a wonderful day he had, too, though he got only about four miles back up the range from the lake. the only part he did not like was being alone. "if only old spider was here!" he kept thinking. "golly, how he'd love these woods!" he ate his lunch on a point of rock above the forest, where he could see, down over the tops, all the twelve green, dancing miles of lake mcdonald. he made a list of all the kinds of trees he knew (for he got up above the cedars), and looked carefully at the kinds he did not know, so he could ask mills about them. he picked forty-six kinds of wild flowers, without half hunting, watched the different birds, especially the clark's crows (a black and white bird, a little smaller than a crow), and just lazily enjoyed himself. not a very exciting day, you say? but wait till you get out in the rocky mountains. you'll find, after you've ridden the high trails for a while, and seen the tremendous precipices, and met up with a bear or two, and otherwise had a lively time, you will suddenly want to loaf for one whole day, too, and not put your foot into a stirrup or do much of anything but lie around in the lovely woods or upland meadows, and do nothing. it's great to loaf once in a while--not too often, nor too long. but joe had one little adventure before he got back. he had sat down at the edge of an open glade in the woods, to put a new film roll in his camera, when he suddenly saw a big buck deer and two does come out of the woods across the clearing. they did not see him for a full minute, and stood feeding, quite unconsciously. then he either made some sound or they spied him, for the buck reared his head, stamped, and all three looked at him with great, startled brown eyes. joe was working with nervous haste to get that precious film roll in before they ran away. he didn't dare move more than his fingers and hands, and it was hard work; but he got it in at last, and turned it to position. but as he raised the camera to sight it, they finally took fright and bolted for the woods. joe pressed the bulb, and got a picture of their three white tails disappearing, but, alas! he didn't get their faces. it was the nearest he had ever come to photographing a wild deer at close range, and he was mad enough that they had come just when he was filling his camera, and was not ready for them. that night mills looked at the sky, sniffed the wind, and announced rain before two days. "we'll beat it with an early start," he said "everybody ready at seven-thirty. where are you going to bunk, joe?" he had been told about the bear, joe saw. "i'm going to bunk where i did last night," joe answered. "in the hammock?" "no, in the cedars." "good-night, nurse!" said bob. "no more big ben for mine." "are you really?" lucy asked. "aren't you foolish?" "maybe," said joe, "though it was probably a tame bear. but if i don't, mr. mills will guy me all summer. i'll stay there this time, if he eats me alive!" "that's the right spirit," said lucy. "if i were a boy, i'd stay with you!" "i bet you would!" joe exclaimed. "anybody who says girls are quitters has got the wrong dope." so he went back alone to the little camp in the woods, and though it was dark and ghostly and every cracking twig gave him a jump, he built up his fire and lay down to sleep. he did not sleep for a long time, for he could not make himself stop listening to noises, but finally he dozed off, and when he finally woke it was daylight. "you poor simp!" he told himself. "nothing has happened. afraid of a tame bear, who's probably twice as afraid of you! glad old spider wasn't here to see!" he fried himself some bacon, and hurried back to the stables, to help pack the horses for the trip. "and now where is it?" the men demanded, as they all mounted. "depends on the weather," mills said. "if it holds off rain, i want to camp to-night in avalanche basin, and maybe show you a goat or two. if it comes on to rain, we'll make for granite park chalet, on swift current pass." "i see--going around the circle, and back to many glacier over swift current," said mr. elkins, who had been studying a map. "well, let's hope it doesn't rain. i don't see any signs now." "i smell it," mills said. this day, with restocked provisions and well rested horses, they headed north, on the west side of the divide, past the head of the lake, and up mcdonald creek, a rushing, turbulent little river which comes pouring down the heavily wooded cañon between the lewis range, which is the range that makes the continental divide, and the livingston range just to the west. it was a pretty ride, up the side of the stream, but the trees were so thick and tall that they could catch only occasional glimpses of the mountain walls on either side of the cañon. after five miles or more, mills halted, by the side of a smaller stream which came in from the east, and took a look at the sky and the peak of a mountain visible in a gap of the trees. "i guess we can risk it," he said, and turned eastward up the bank. this side trail climbed much more steeply, and led them after a couple of miles into a box cañon, like a deep rock ditch, with just the stream and the trail at the bottom, and then into one of the wildest spots you can imagine--a marvelous bowl, almost entirely closed in except for the gap where they had climbed, with a green glacier lake at the bottom, and steeply sloping sides which went up from the shore of the lake for over five thousand feet--cannon mountain to the north, brown to the south, and at the eastern end, high over their heads, the great white field of sperry glacier, pouring down its silver ribbons of waterfalls. they reached this lovely wild spot, called avalanche basin because when the snows come in winter the sides are so steep that avalanches keep pouring down, before noon, and at once made camp, while joe set about the lunch. after lunch, bob said, "well, mr. mills, bring on your goat." mills didn't answer, but lifted his head, and scanned the cliffs. "all right," he finally said, "there are two." and he pointed upward. everybody followed his finger, to a red cliff, across the lake and far up the steep mountain wall. "i don't see anything but some spots of snow," bob said. "wait--wait--one of the spots is moving!" lucy cried. "is that really a goat? my goodness, how does he stick on? why, it's straight up and down!" "that don't trouble a goat," said the ranger. the two specks of snow were certainly moving. the whole party watched till their necks ached, but the goats had either seen them or were not bound for the lower reaches, anyhow, for they did not come down. instead, they walked along the cliff wall, and presently disappeared around a headland. "why, they're just like flies!" one of the congressmen exclaimed. "i suppose they were on a ledge. how wide do you reckon it was?" "might have been two feet, might have been six inches," mills answered. "i've seen sheep and goats go around a ledge on a sheer precipice that wasn't over four inches wide, and stop to scratch themselves on the way!" "i'm going to climb up there and see how steep that place is!" bob cried. "hooray! us, too," said alice and lucy. "come on, joe." mills was smiling, and joe thought once more of the story of the englishman. he told the story now, and mills smiled again. "is it that far, mr. mills--now, honestly?" the girls asked. "go ahead and try it," the ranger said, still smiling. "i'll come along, like joe's friend." the five of them started out, worked around the head of the lake, and began at once to climb the long, steep, rough shale pile at the foot of the first cliff. above this first cliff was another slope, before the cliff began on which they had seen the goats. it was hard going, with thick patches of timber-line scrub spruces which held you like iron and tore like barbed wire, and sharp, irregular rocks of all sizes, and slopes of loose, small stones that gave way underfoot, and even patches of snow. they toiled on, mills in the rear this time, still smiling, until at last they reached the foot of the first cliff, and looked far down at the lake and their tents. they could see the people there, the horses, even joe's fire pit and a tin kettle. "why, i could almost throw a stone down on 'em," said bob, "yet i feel as if we'd come a long way." he looked at his watch. "gee whiz, we've been gone 'most two hours already!" he cried. then he looked up at the cliff above, which was almost perpendicular. the girls looked at it, too. joe looked at it, and longed for spider and a rope to tackle it. but he did not see how any one could safely climb it without a rope. mills looked at the four of them--and still smiled. "well," he said, finally, "going on?" "you win," bob admitted reluctantly. "we're the goats." "no, the trouble is, we're not!" laughed lucy. "if we were, we could keep on." so they started back, sliding down a snow-field by sitting down and "letting her go"--which was rapid, but very damp. "the goats win," said bob, as they reached camp almost three hours later. "and yet we could see you all the way," his father said "now i realize what rocky mountain air is." that night they had a big camp-fire, and a sing--all the songs every one knew, with val playing on a harmonica he fished sheepishly out of his saddle-bag. then they all "turned in" early, to be ready for a long trip the next day. chapter xiv--up the divide in a rain, with a lost horse on the way, and a howling snow-storm at the top joe was still sleepy when the ranger shook him by the shoulder. "get up," said mills. "we're in for a rain before night, sure. i want to get as far as we can before it begins. get breakfast, and put up some stuff handy for lunch, so you can get it without unpacking." joe crawled out into a new, strange world. for the first time since he'd been in the park it was not a clear day. the clouds hung low, way down over the tops and sides of the mountains, gray, dull clouds, with ghostly strings of vapor moving around on the under side. sperry glacier was invisible, and the vapors were half-way down the wall where the goats had been. here, in the deep bowl of avalanche basin, with its towering, precipitous sides, the result was that joe felt exactly as if he were shut in down at the bottom of a huge well, a well with a gray smoke cover over it. even the bright green water of the little lake, without any sunlight, had turned a dull, chalky green, and looked ominous and unreal, as if you would catch dead fish in it. "i don't like this--i feel as if i were in a prison," he said to the ranger, as he kindled his fire. "you may like it less before we get to granite park," mills answered. "put your poncho over your saddle to-day--you're going to need it." then he woke the camp. everybody felt more or less as joe did, and breakfast was curiously quiet. even bob stopped his gay chatter. they got an early start, and were soon down on the main trail beside mcdonald creek, and plugging north through the deep forest of pines, larches and englemann spruce. it was dull, monotonous work, with no view at all, for when there was an opening in the woods, all they could see was a cliff wall going up into the gray cloud overhead, which shut down over them like a roof. mile after mile they went, now and then bob or the girls starting a song, but soon stopping it. the trail was wet and muddy underfoot, and there were some fallen trees to jump. moreover, the packhorses were, for some reason, particularly badly behaved that day, and joe and val nearly lost their tempers a dozen times as they rode into the brush, to head off some packhorse which was trying to get out of line. when they stopped for lunch, it had already begun to drizzle. joe made coffee, and passed out the usual collection of food for a charlie chaplin sandwich. by the time lunch was eaten, the drizzle had settled down into a misty rain, and the trees had begun to drip. then everybody realized why they had been carrying around slickers on their saddles. on went these slickers--long, yellow rubber coats such as are worn by the gloucester fishermen. they fitted the men all right, but poor lucy and alice were completely enveloped, with the sleeves coming down over their hands. joe put his head through the hole in his poncho--and that was all right till he came to mount his horse. then he discovered that a poncho is decidedly not the thing for horseback riding, for his knees and legs kept coming out from under, on either side, and as the trees and bushes were soon dripping wet, and the rain kept falling, he was speedily soaked almost to the waist. it grew colder, too. but there was nothing to do but plod on, through the wet, miry trail. however, very soon after lunch, the trail suddenly left the cañon, and headed east right up the side wall, to swift current pass. "less than three miles to camp," mills called back; "and three thousand feet to climb," he added. "three thousand feet in less than three miles," joe reflected. "let's see, mount lafayette in the white mountains is fifty-two hundred feet high, and the trail starts from the profile house, which is nineteen hundred feet up. that makes only thirty-three hundred feet, and the trail is five miles long." then joe thought of that trail, which he had climbed only two summers before, and how steep it was, and whistled to himself. "we're in for it," he thought. and he was right. ordinarily, this trail, while it is steep and not well graded or maintained, is easy enough for a rocky mountain horse; but now, with the rain pouring down, it was converted into a regular brook in places, and in other places, where the rocks were bare or mossy, it was slippery as ice. "everybody off, and take hold of the tails of your horses," mills finally ordered, after two horses had almost slipped off. "i can't walk up here! what do you think i hired this horse for?" mrs. jones demanded. "well, your horse can't walk up here with you on him," the ranger replied. "i'm not responsible for the weather. you'll have to walk, or break your neck." and joe could see he wanted to add--"i don't care which." bob and the girls grabbed their horses by the tails, and scrambled up rapidly to the next easy stretch, but their fathers and mothers climbed up more slowly, while mills drove up the horses. then dick, val and joe drove up the packhorses, which, of course, couldn't be unloaded, and had a hard time. all of them were up but two, and they were breathing easier, when the next to the last horse, on a slippery ledge, bumped his pack against the upper wall, slipped out toward the edge, pawed madly with his hoofs, got no grip on the skin of wet, slimy moss and mud which covered the rock, and went over backward, with a wild whinny, and staring, frightened eyes. fortunately, it was not straight down here, only a very steep slope, and twenty feet below was a thick tangle of scrub pine and tall huckleberry bushes. the poor horse tipped over on his back, turned a complete double somersault, and landed crash against the pines, where he lay struggling to get on his feet again. joe, val, dick and mills all dashed down to him, and one held his head while the rest got the pack off his back. he got up on his feet, trembling, and the ranger and dick felt him all over. "i guess the pack saved him, at that," mills said. "he fell on the blankets. well, boys, haul the stuff up." they each took part of the load, and carried it to the level above, while the ranger led up the poor, frightened horse. at the top the party was waiting, huddled in the rain. they were a sorry and comical looking lot, and though joe's own feet were soaked, and he was wet to the skin below the hips, and he was cold, he certainly wanted to laugh. water was dripping from the women's hair, mrs. jones' face looked blacker than the clouds which hung in the trees just above her, mrs. elkins looked as if she was about to cry any minute, mr. elkins simply looked wet and cold and mad, and alice and lucy, almost buried in their enormous slickers, were trying to sing to keep up their courage. only bob was still cheerful. he was eating wet huckleberries--wet and half green. it was a nasty, wet job getting the pack on again, and mills sent the party on ahead, with dick to guide them. but the granite park chalet was not far away. they were over the worst of the trail. in another half hour, after crossing a meadow which was now full of running brooks, and climbing up a last steep pitch, joe suddenly saw the chalet emerge from the heavy cloud, as if a picture of switzerland in his old school geography had popped out of a fog right over his head. built partly of stone and partly of rough timber, exactly in the style of a swiss chalet, this building was about the size of an ordinary house. joe knew by the map that it was almost up to the top of swift current pass, just below the great divide, but you could not have told it now. the clouds were swirling all around, and it was already so cold that the rain was beginning to freeze as fast as it hit, making a thin skin of ice on the rocks. unpacking the horses, and getting the packs piled under the shelter of the porch, and then taking the horses to a rough stable near by, was done in a hurry. the three men then dove into the kitchen door, into the warmth of the fire which roared in a red hot stove. in the big front room there was another stove roaring, and around that the party were already huddled, waiting for their dunnage bags, to get out dry clothes. joe and dick brought the bags in, and each one went to a room up-stairs to change. joe himself had dry underclothes, socks, and a pair of shoes, but he had no extra trousers. he and the cowboys and mills changed as much as they could in the kitchen, but joe had to put his wet trousers on again. when lucy came down, in a skirt and dry shoes, she saw this at once. "oh, joe, you _must_ get some dry trousers," she said. "you mustn't run such a risk." joe laughed. "oh, i'm all right," he said. "won't hurt me--i've been exercising." "but you're not exercising now. i'm going to fix you." she went over and spoke to the manager in charge of the chalet; he nodded, and went into the little room where he slept, emerging with a pair of his own trousers. as he was some six inches larger around the middle than joe, everybody laughed, and they laughed more when joe reappeared, with the trousers on. "say, joe, you'll need some supper to fill them!" bob cried. "never mind," said lucy. "they are dry." the chalet now smelled of drying clothes and drying leather. over both stoves hung stockings and trousers and even underclothes, and behind them stood rows of boots. outside, the wind was howling and shaking the entire house with every gust. it was almost as dark as if it had been evening, though it was only five o'clock, and bob, peering through the steamed window pane, suddenly cried, "hi! look quick--snow!" and opened the front door to dash out. as he lifted the latch, the wind caught the door and blew it wide open, a great gust of snow swirling in, half across the room. "say, is this august first or january first?" mr. elkins demanded. "i thought we came to a summer resort, not greenland." "our mountains are just showing off for you a bit," mills smiled, as the young people and joe, in spite of the gale, went out on the porch to see the snow-storm driving past. but they were soon driven in, blowing on their fingers, and brushing the snow off their clothes. "the man who built this old shack right here gets my vote," bob declared. "say, ma, how'd you like to be on your prancing steed right now, up on top of the pass, still seven miles from blighty? eh, wot?" "thanks," said mrs. jones. "i prefer it here." "i know!" lucy said. "let's have afternoon tea." "all those in favor say aye--the ayes have it--it's a vote--joe, go to it," cried bob. "that's the way they put a bill through in dad's old congress--just like that." joe got out the tea and the cups, and with alice and lucy helping, they soon had hot tea on the table, and a big plate of crackers, and a lot of sweet chocolate mr. jones bought at the little counter by the manager's desk. "let the wild winds howl; what do we care for your old august blizzards?" said bob, as he passed his cup to joe for a second helping. when tea was over, joe set about cooking a good, hot dinner, for he had a real stove to work with now, and an oven. he mixed dough for hot biscuit, got out eggs for omelettes, tins of soups, made a batter for griddle cakes, and opened his last can of preserved peaches for dessert. while he was working, with val sitting in a corner, telling him stories about broncho busting, there came a sudden stamping of feet on the porch outside, the door opened, and two men, covered with snow, with heavy packs on their backs, almost fell into the kitchen. val sprang up and caught one of them as he staggered and was about to tumble. mills and the manager of the chalet came hurrying in from the front room. joe jumped to his stove and poured boiling water on some fresh tea leaves. while the others were getting the two men into chairs, and pulling off their soaked clothes, joe steeped his tea, and brought each of them a big tin mug full. they swallowed it eagerly, and brightened up. they changed into dry clothes, supplied partly from their own packs and partly from the manager's wardrobe. "you see," the man said, "i keep old clothes here for just such emergencies." they were from a mid-western city, and had come to glacier for a vacation. being fond of walking, and also wanting to do the park as cheaply as they could, they had decided to hike from point to point. they had already come over piegan pass from the south, and stopped last night at the tepee camp at many glacier. to-day they had first visited iceberg lake, and then, in spite of the threatened rain (it had not rained till long after noon on the east side of the divide, they said), they had climbed swift current pass, headed for this chalet. they had run into the heavy cloud near the top of the pass, but did not expect any trouble in finding their way, because the trail is well marked by countless horses. but in the pass meadow they got the full force of the storm, where the snow hit them, and before they got across, the track was obliterated; the cloud was so dense they could not see fifty feet ahead, and they were almost benumbed with the cold. however, they continued to pick up trail marks here and there, and stumbled down finally till they saw the chalet looming up under the cloud mantle. "we never expected anything like this, in mid-summer," one of them said, "or, of course, we wouldn't have climbed the pass to-day." "you wouldn't get it once in five years," mills answered,--"but there's always a time, you know. that's why the chalet's here." the two men were so tired that joe's party offered to share dinner with them, relieving them of the task of cooking, since the regular cook employed by the chalet had deserted the day before and all guests now had to shift for themselves. it was quite a party that sat down to table, with val as waiter and joe turning the omelettes and tossing the griddle cakes on the stove. they ate by the light of a lamp, though up there, ordinarily, at seven o'clock it would have been bright daylight. outside the wind howled, the snow flew, and the house shook as if hit by a giant fist as each gust struck it but suddenly, as joe was dishing out the canned peaches in the kitchen, he heard a cry from bob. "hi, look--it's getting light--oh, gee, folks--come quick!" when joe came into the room with what dishes val could not carry, he found every one up from the table and crowded at the west windows. the lamplight had paled. into the windows was pouring the last rays of the setting sun, over behind the livingston range, the other side of the cañon. these rays came out of a great, blue hole in the wall of clouds, and seemed to stream like a vast search-light along the under side of the cloud wrack overhead. they pierced right through the falling snow, which turned to a dancing, dazzling veil of golden crystals between the windows and the sun. and, against the hole into the west, stood up the snow-crowned pyramid of trapper's peak, while, to the south, just emerging from the clouds, its great snow-fields tinged with sunset as with blood and gold, rose the beautiful cone of heaven's peak, shining, mysterious, magnificent. "dessert--peaches," said val. "go 'way," said alice. "this is better than any dessert. oh, i'm going out!" peaches were forgotten--everything was forgotten. every one piled out on the west porch and watched the wonderful display. now the low sun was shooting a great rainbow up on the under side of the cloud right over the divide. one end of this rainbow dropped down past the steep cliff of the divide south of the pass, known as the garden wall, and ended in a patch of snow. "hi--joe, let's go down and get the pot o' gold," bob called. "i can see just where it is." "i would, if i had on my own pants," joe laughed. as if to finish off the display with a pretty touch, the snow stopped falling, so they could see plainly all the white slopes around the camp, and suddenly a deer bounded out from behind a pine thicket, circled all around below them, and disappeared at last to the north. the sun dropped, leaving a green and pink hole in the west, enlarging every moment. the clouds were lifting. it was still cold, however, and the wind was howling. the crowd went in reluctantly, blew on their fingers, and finished their dinner. some one proposed games after the dinner was cleared away. some one else proposed a story. but bob proposed bed, and after some debate, his motion prevailed, chiefly, his father declared, because every one on the opposition side was yawning so that he could not argue. "are you all right? you haven't got a cold, have you?" lucy asked joe, as she said good-night. "no, i feel fine," joe answered. he did, too, and went to sleep, rolled in his blankets on the kitchen floor, thinking of the girl--or the woman, he hardly knew which to call her--who was so thoughtful and kind. "this is a pretty good old world, and pretty nice folks in it," was his last reflection, before he dropped asleep, with dick on one side, and val on the other, while the wind was still shaking the chalet. chapter xv--tom's chance for adventure comes unexpectedly, wearing hobnail shoes and carrying a rope the next day's trip was an easy one. each one of the party was tired, and mills let them sleep late. after breakfast they set off up the quarter mile of steep trail to swift current pass, through the powder of fresh snow which was fast melting, and then down on the other side, over the trail joe had taken on his first ride in the park. how different it seemed to him now! he sat his saddle like an old timer. he did not give a thought to the steepness--it didn't even seem steep! in fact, he hung his reins over the horn of his saddle, and unslinging his camera, snapped several pictures of the party as it rounded the turns of the switchbacks, with the girls looking up at him and waving their hands, and bob making horrible faces. at the usual point, mills gave a yell, and started the race to the hotel. but it was joe's job now to get ahead of the packhorses, and hold them back. he could not gallop with the crowd. it was almost ten minutes later that he and val reached the tepee camp, with their eight beasts of burden. spider was standing in front of the tepees, and ran out to grab joe's hand. "hello, old scout!" he cried. "gee, but i'm glad to see you! how are you? all right? maybe i wasn't worried in that rain yesterday. you all right?" "sure i'm all right," joe said. "wow--some good time, too! you'll have to stay up all night hearing about it. i'll be back soon, and get your lunch." "forget that," said tom. "i've got it already. i'm a bum cook, though--haven't had a decent meal since you left. i'll wait for you. nobody in camp just now, but some due to-night." joe rode on to the hotel, helped unpack, and said good-bye to all the party. it was hard, too, for after those seven days on the trail and in camp, even though he was only the camp cook and they were congressmen and congressmen's families, he felt as if they were all old friends. mr. elkins drew him to one side a little. "i know you're working your way out here," said he, "and we'd all like to help you, joe, for you've been a fine cook for us, and we've all been like a jolly family together. i don't suppose you'd let me make you a little present, would you, to show how grateful we are?" joe turned red. "oh, no, sir," he answered. "scouts never take tips, and that would be a tip, wouldn't it, sir, really? i get paid by mr. mills, or the saddle company. why, i've had more fun being with you all than you've had, i guess!" mr. elkins put a hand on joe's shoulder. "that's the talk i like to hear," he said. "you've made me realize what the boy scouts are after, joe, and if you ever come to washington, and want to see how congress works, you let me know, and you and i'll do the town!" every one shook hands with him then, even mrs. jones, who, now the hotel was in sight again, was as cheerful as a cricket. "i just love roughing it--now it's all over," she laughed. but bob was not to be seen. joe looked around for him, and wondered where he could be. he shook hands with lucy last of all. she was sweeter and prettier than ever as she smiled at him. "not good-bye--au revoir," said she. "you're going to swap snap shots with us, and write me how you are, and what you see in the park after we're gone, and some day you'll come to washington, won't you?" "you bet i'd like to," he answered. "gee, you--you--you've been awful nice to me--kind of makes me homesick----" he couldn't finish, and lucy gave his fingers a friendly little pressure, and turned away. joe got on popgun again, still wondering where bob was, and turned to depart, when with a "hi, there--don't go yet!" bob burst from the hotel door. he was bearing in one hand a jointed bamboo fish-pole, in the other a full box of tackle and flies. "this is for you," he said. "'course, you can't get a good, big fish without me to catch it for you, but you can cook what you do get o.k. and don't let any more bears kiss you, and send a feller some snap shots when you have 'em developed, and here's my address." joe took the rod and tackle. "gee, bob, that's white of you," he said. "guess i'll never forget this trip." "me, neither. old pennsylvania's goin' to look like a prairie when i get back. so long, joe." "so long, bob." he waved his hand to alice and lucy, who watched him from the doorway, and rode off behind mills, dropped his dunnage bag at the camp, and took popgun to the ranger's cabin. "if you boys will let me, i'll grub with you this noon. not a thing in my shack," the ranger said. "fine--come on. well, mr. mills, did i make good?" mills gave him a funny look out of his pale, keen blue eyes. "i never pick a man that doesn't," he said. "by the way, here's your money--seven days at three dollars a day. cooks are coming high this year." he handed the astonished joe twenty-one dollars--six of it in cart wheels, which you almost never see in the east. "say, i didn't expect so much. is that on the level?" joe demanded. "regular price this season--labor's awful scarce. i don't see why you shouldn't have all the work you want for the rest of the season." "gee, and it isn't work--it's fun!" "glad you think so," the ranger laughed. "yesterday struck me as work." "sure, but it was fun, too." the two boys and the ranger ate their lunch at the tepee camp, where tom had been experimenting on the stove. poor tom! he wasn't much of a cook--not compared to joe, at any rate, and he got rather sore for a minute when mills suggested that joe remake the coffee. "don't get peeved," mills laughed. "just take one drink of joe's coffee, and you'll feel better." then tom laughed, too. "well, old joe's a professional chef now," he said. "i'm only a janitor. has he been well, honest and true, mr. mills?" "far as i've seen, he's as sound as the best," mills answered. "why don't you take him over and weigh him this afternoon?" "i will," said tom. and he did. they found some scales in the basement of the hotel, and joe got on. he had gained five pounds that week, in spite of the hard work of the trip! spider gave a shout of glee. "hooray!" he cried. "i told you the old ozone would do it! we're giving the bugs the knock out. now, when an m. d. comes along, you're going to get the once over again, and see if you can climb." "i--i----" joe began, looking rather guilty. "well, tom, i did climb a glacier, and fell in, too!" "it would have served you right if they hadn't fished you out--tell me all about it." all that afternoon, after joe had given his money to big bertha, to keep in the office safe for him, the two boys sat by the lake shore, on a little point of rocks, taking turns fishing with the new rod, while joe narrated the story of his trip. they caught only two smallish trout, hardly enough for a good mess, but that didn't matter. it was too much fun telling and hearing about the wonders of the park. "and you've just had to stick around here, old spider, working for me," joe exclaimed, penitently. "to-morrow, i'm going to see big bertha, and get him to let me run the camp for a while, so's you can take a trip." "yes, and who'll go with me?" said tom. "can't go alone. besides, didn't we come out here for you to get well? forget it, wifey." "oh, i don't care what you call me to-day," joe laughed. "i've had too good a time--and i'm going to find a way for you to, now. you wait--something will turn up." something did--and that very night, just after the party tom expected went into the chalets, too tired to camp. yet the turn-up did not look a bit promising when it arrived. it was a small man, with big steel spectacles, enormous hobnail boots, a huge pack, a blanket roll, and a coil of curious, soft rope around his waist. he was a man about forty years old, and didn't look as if he could carry such a load two miles. yet he came down the trail at six o'clock erect and brisk, and said casually he'd come that day from the sun camp, over piegan pass. "that's twenty-two miles!" the boys exclaimed. "is it?" said he. "i should hardly have called it so far. have you a cook here?" "why, yes," said tom. "joe's a cook. folks at camp generally get their own meals. i'd hardly know how to charge." "i hate my own meals," the man said. "that's why i always take a pocket full of raisins for lunch. you get me dinner and breakfast, and i guess we can reckon out a fair payment. am i alone in the camp to-night?" "there was a party coming," tom said, "but they were so tired, they went to the chalets. i don't expect anybody else." "too bad," the man said. "not that i pine for company, but i do want to find somebody to climb with me. here i've brought an alpine rope all the way out here, and i can't find a soul to shin a precipice." he wriggled out of the coils of the soft, braided rope, which was almost as pliable as silk, and laid it on the table. "you don't know of anybody, do you?" he added. "why, no sir, i don't," tom answered, fingering the rope curiously, to feel its soft, strange texture. "i do," joe spoke up. tom and the man both turned toward him. "who is it?" they said. joe simply made a gesture toward tom. "you?" the hiker asked. "you look like a strong, capable boy, but have you had any experience with rock climbing?" "joe's talking through his hat," spider stammered. "i couldn't go. my job's to take care of this camp----" "i can fix that," joe cut in. "i'll look after the camp. besides, here's somebody comes to the park looking for a climb, and it's up to the park to find somebody to go with him." "that seems settled," the man smiled. "but have you had any experience rock climbing?" "no sir, not really, i guess," tom said. "i climbed the head wall of huntington ravine on mount washington once, when we scouts took a hike in the white mountains, and joe and i have climbed some little cliffs around home, with just a common rope, and i got a box of spikes for my shoes, but of course, i've never been in the alps, or anything like that." the man had now laid off his pack, and was inspecting his tepee as he listened. "the head wall of huntington ravine isn't a bad little climb," he said, "though one of the side walls is better. but it hardly qualifies you as an alpine guide. however, if you'd care to come with me, and we could get somebody to tell us where there's an interesting wall, i'd be glad of your company to-morrow." "oh, gee, i'd like to go!" tom cried, "if i can get off." "you can get off," said joe, "and after supper i'll go get the ranger to come and tell mr.--mr.----" "kent is my name," the little man said. "at home i'm dr. kent, but out here i wish to forget it." "----mr. kent where there's a good cliff. would you like an omelette for supper, mr. kent, with some chicken soup and fried potatoes and griddle cakes and coffee?" "that sounds very nice," said he. "but i warn you i sha'n't know what i'm eating. i've had nothing since breakfast but a couple of raisins." joe went busily about getting his supper, while tom set the table, got fresh water, put some extra blankets in his tepee, and ran to the supply store for some jam or canned fruit for dessert. "now, you be sure to explain to big bertha that i'm going to take your place if he'll let you off," joe whispered. "he knows i can do it. if he makes any kick, i'll go up after supper." when tom came back, he reported that it was all right, big bertha had not kicked at all. "he's an old peach," tom added. "asked me why i hadn't suggested such a scheme before." "i knew that would be all right," joe laughed. "after grub, i'll get mr. mills, and he'll go, too, maybe. gee, he's dandy on a trip, and he knows how to use a rope." the two scouts now devoted their entire attention to the single guest at the camp. when joe called, "come and get it!" tom set a camp chair at the table, and brought the steaming food from the stove. while dr. kent was eating the soup, joe made the omelette just right, and kept the fried potatoes sizzling, and with them sent in a pot of piping hot coffee and a plate of rolls. then he made griddle cakes--five helpings of them the man ate, too, four thick cakes to a helping! he topped off with preserved peaches. when he had finished, he drew a cigar case from an inner pocket of his old, worn leather jacket, lit a cigar, came over to a seat by the camp-fire which tom had now lighted, stretched out his short legs, which were clad in great, heavy, square-toed boots, blue woollen stockings that were in wrinkles, and worn woollen knickerbockers of a once rather startling brown and green striped pattern, sighed contentedly, looked at the two scouts, and remarked: "tom and joe--those are your names, eh? well, i never fared so well, boys, in the savoy in london or the waldorf in new york. joe, i knew what i was eating all the time, it was so good. i don't know how you chaps ever got way out here--i can tell you both come from new england. but i'm glad you came. i think maybe the lord sent you for my especial benefit. what do you think about it?" "tom thinks you were sent here for his special benefit," joe laughed. "he's not had a chance to see a bit of the park yet." "why, joe--i do not!" poor tom cried, getting red. "well, it looks mutual," the man admitted. "now, where's this ranger? i like to get to-morrow all settled while it is still to-day." tom went up to the cabin for mills, while joe was getting a bite ready for spider and himself. mills appeared in less than ten minutes. tom introduced the two men, and went into the cook tepee, to eat with joe, while they both strained their ears to hear the plans. "well," the ranger was saying, "there's a mighty nice climb at the head of iceberg lake. i was never up it, but i know where the goat trail starts. might be good sport to follow that trail." "chimney work, or mostly shelf?" the other man asked. "mostly everything, i should reckon. i don't now recall any real chimney, till the top. the goats sort of switchback on ledges. guess you'll need sharp toe-nails, here and there." "any ice work?" "nothing sticks on that wall!" said the ranger. "and the height?" "oh, maybe two thousand." "you mean two thousand, all cliff?" the man demanded. "sure," said mills. "well, maybe you can knock off two hundred for the shale slide at the bottom. it goes right up to the crest of the divide." "well, that sounds like a climb!" dr. kent exclaimed. "suppose this boy tom here can do it?" tom and joe, pretending to eat, stopped their forks half-way to their mouths to listen. tom was almost trembling. "he can if you know your business," mills answered, laconically. "they've got good heads, both those boys--and heads count on a goat trail." the doctor looked at mills rather sharply. evidently he was not used to being spoken to in just that way. "i have climbed the matterhorn," he replied. "we got a different kind o' stone out here," said mills. "it ain't reliable. what's the matter with me going too? i ain't had a good climb since i hunted bighorns last, five years ago. and we can all ride up to the lake on my horses, and i can see how the trail's standing up after the rain." "three on the rope are better than two, of course," the other said. "and i'd be glad of your experience. i have at least climbed enough to know that it is safer to have a guide who knows the cliff." "stranger," mills smiled, in his quiet way, "you seem kind o' sore at me. but i'm the park ranger for this district, and uncle sam don't want no accidents in here. you may be the next thing to a mountain goat, but i've never seen you climb, and it's up to me to be kind o' what you'd call sceptical. now, wouldn't you act so, if you was here for uncle sam?" the doctor put out his hand. "i'm ready to climb anywhere you say we can get," he said. "you're the sort uncle sam needs everywhere. shake, and say we're friends." the boys saw them shake hands, and then they heard dr. kent calling. "tom," he said, "mr. mills is going with us to see that we don't break our necks. we leave to-morrow at five o'clock. is that too early, mills?" "not a bit," said the ranger. "joe, can you have breakfast ready then?" "yes, sir." "mills, will you breakfast with us?" "thanks--i sure will if joe makes the coffee." "then it's settled. now, tom, you can go to bed as early as you like. i'm going to turn in right away." ("sounds like a hint!") joe whispered. tom nodded. he saw that the camp was all right, bade the doctor good-night, and with joe and mills walked up the path toward their camp. "well, joe," mills said, "they're keeping you busy, eh? sorry you can't come along to-morrow--we might find a hole somewhere for you to fall into." "i'll let spider do a few flipflaps now," said joe. "i've had my turn." "if anybody tumbles, i hope it's the m. d.," tom laughed. "he's just a little bit fond of dr. kent,--strikes me." "sh! you forget he's climbed the matterhorn," said mills. he went on to his cabin, and the boys settled down in their own tent. "well, old joey, here you are home!" tom cried, giving him a slap. "gee, wifey, it's been lonely for a whole week without you!" "and it's some nice to get back," said joe. "it sure seems like home, this little old tent, and mr. rogers' little old cot. slept on the floor last night, and on the ground all the other nights. oh, you cot!" he sank luxuriously down, wrapped in his blankets, and let tom blow out the lantern. "home!" he sighed, sleepily. "just a little old tent, but home--with old spider snoring in the other bunk." "i don't snore!" tom retorted. "it's you who snore." "you may if you want to," said joe. "it would take more'n a snore to keep me awake to-night. oh, you cot! 'night, spider." "'night, joe." if either of them snored, no one knew it, except the porcupine that came sniffing around the tent, and then, disappointed, went off through the forest. chapter xvi--tom goes up a two thousand foot wall, with an alpine rope, and learns the proper way to climb the scouts were up again before five, and hurried to the camp, where the doctor was still sound asleep. "sound is right!" spider laughed. but he woke when he heard them getting breakfast, and by the time he was dressed and breakfast was ready, mills came up, followed by popgun and the packhorse, both saddled. as soon as breakfast was over, the two men and tom stowed away in their pockets the sandwiches joe made for them, made sure that all the spikes were in their boots, and swung into the saddle. "good-bye, old joey," tom called. "have some good hot dinner ready when we get back." "yes, and you come back with your neck whole, to eat it," said joe, waving his hand and watching the three riders trot up the trail in the cool, level, early morning sunlight. it was a fine, clear day, a real rocky mountain day, when you could almost see the buttons on a man's coat a quarter of a mile away. and it was tom's first trip away from many glacier, into the high places, though he had walked around the camp as far as he dared, and even climbed a little way up a steep shale pile at the base of the cliff behind the chalets. however, hikers were apt to show up at any time of the day, and he had never been able to venture more than a mile or two. but now he was bound for iceberg lake, and then up the very main precipice of the great divide, the backbone of the continent, with the park ranger and a man who had climbed the matterhorn! it was only a short ride to iceberg lake--about six miles. the trail was a fine one, of easy grade, and for some distance wound through the woods, over tumbling brooks, and through beds of wild flowers. the doctor seemed as much interested in these flowers as he was in the coming climb. "i never saw such a profusion," he kept saying. "so many kinds all together, and such beautiful masses of color. well, well, how little we americans know about our own country. tom, i want you to go back east and tell your schoolmates this is a pretty fine land we live in." "you bet i will--if i go back," said tom. "i like it so much here i may stay forever, and be a ranger, like mr. mills." "after one winter, you won't like it so much," mills said. gradually the trail climbed above the tall timber, and the view opened out. tom could see they were headed for a big semicircular amphitheatre, cut into the towering rock walls of the divide, and before long they entered the open end of this titanic stadium. it was a wild, beautiful spot. at their feet was a meadow, covered with yellow dog-tooth violets like gold patterns in a green carpet, and with little pines in it like people walking about. on three sides of them, sweeping around in a semicircle at the end, was a vast precipice, seemingly perpendicular, except for the big shale piles at the base. the top of this cliff was a "castellated ridge," the term mountaineers give to a summit which is long and level, but broken into little depressions and towers, like the battlements of an ancient castle. at the upper end of the amphitheatre lay a round lake, about half a mile across, and at the upper end of that, right under the shadow of the head wall, was the glacier. this glacier, snow covered on top, showed a thirty foot wall of green ice on the upright edge, and chunks of this ice were constantly breaking off and floating away in the green water. hence the name iceberg lake. they rode right up to the shore, and mills took the horses into a little clump of trees, where there was some grass also, and tethered them. "now," said he, coming back, "to the job. there's the cliff." he led the way, with long easy strides, around the right hand side of the lake, through steep rough going, without any path and amid stubborn timber-line evergreens, till he reached the base of a huge shale and snowslide that stretched right up at an angle of about fifty degrees, tom estimated, to the base of the jagged precipice. looking up this shale slide to the towering cliff above, tom saw the staggering task ahead of them--and his heart went down into his spiked boots for a minute. he could see how they could get up part way, all right, for at first it wasn't quite perpendicular, and it was full of ledges. but then there seemed to be a sheer rise, with not even a toe hold--"and if you fell--good-night!" he whispered to himself. but mills and dr. kent were studying the cliff quite calmly. "i've seen the goats come down to that snow-field at the top of this shale, half a dozen times," the ranger was saying, "and go back the same way. if we can find their trail, i guess we can make it, though they'll use an awful narrow ledge sometimes. they get into one or the other of those two big gullies, too, on the way back." "there seems to be ample footing," the doctor remarked. there did not seem to be any footing to poor tom, but he did not say so. if they were going up, he was! but those two thousand feet of rock didn't look much like the three hundred foot slope the scouts used to climb back in southmead. it was the great divide in a single jump, and tom felt about as small as a fly must feel on the side of the washington monument--and a good deal more helpless, because the fly has suckers on his feet, and wings beside. [illustration: iceberg lake and glacier] mills now led the way up the shale pile, just a smooth, insecure slide of sharp, broken stone, mostly in small, irregular, flat pieces something like rotten slate. it wasn't as slippery as a pile of coal would be, of course, but there was a good deal of tiresome back-slide under one's feet, none the less. close to the top was a snow-field, and mills examined it. "they've been here--within a day," he announced, pointing to fresh hoof tracks, and also pointing to spots where the goats had evidently taken bites out of the snow, probably as a dog does when thirsty. above the snow-field tom could see just the faintest hint of a trail over the shale, which led up to the base of the solid cliff. "there she is--this is the way!" the ranger called. the three of them now halted directly under the tremendous wall, and looked up. again tom's heart sank. it wasn't so nearly perpendicular as it looked from the lake below, but he could see stretch after stretch where a climber's face would be ticklishly close to the spot where he'd got to put his feet next time--and the great, ragged wall, in long, wavy horizontal strata belts, stretched up and up and up and up! did you ever stand in broadway below the woolworth tower, and look up? imagine that tipped over a little from the perpendicular, and four times as high, and you'll have an idea of what tom looked at. "well, now, this is worth coming for!" the doctor cried, cheerfully, as he took off his coil of rope, and made it ready. "mills, will you take number one place for a way? i'll be number two and anchor, of course. tom can dangle off below, like a tail to the kite. how'll you like that, tom?" tom's face must have shown what he was feeling, for the doctor suddenly changed tone. "come, come," he said. "it's not bad--only long. a swiss guide wouldn't even consider this dangerous. all you have to remember is to test all your hand- and foot-holds before you put your weight on them, and watch for falling stones. this shale pile means the rock may crumble easily in places. come on--be a scout!" "i'm game!" tom answered, biting his lip. "i guess i won't be stumped by an old goat!" mills laughed. "wait till you see a goat perform," he said, as he made fast one end of the rope around his waist. as he adjusted it, he added, "this is a better rope than i ever used. where'd you get it?" "switzerland," the doctor answered. "i have several i've brought over from time to time. you can't get soft, flexible, braided rope here in this country. we don't go in for mountain climbing enough to make it." tom was now fastened on the lower end of the rope, and the doctor in the middle, and the ascent began. "you watch me use the rope," the doctor said to tom. "it will show you how to do it, if you ever have to be second man on a climb--and it will keep you from looking down, also!" spider was almost as anxious to learn how to use the rope properly as he was to get up the cliff. he had hoped to climb, when he came to the park, but he never dreamed he would be climbing with a real alpine rope, manipulated by a man who had been up the matterhorn, and with the leader of the party an old goat hunter. for the benefit of the boys who are reading this book, i want to tell just how dr. kent used the rope. no boy, or man, either, should ever try to climb a cliff without a rope, and without proper shoes, with plenty of strong, sharp spikes. the rope must be strong enough to hold the weight of three or four men, at the very least, and it must be soft and pliable. if you cannot get such a soft rope, boil an ordinary one in a wash-boiler till it loses its stiffness. but, even when you have the rope, you must not use it on a cliff until you have learned the proper methods, preferably under the guidance of some man who has climbed in england or the alps or the rockies. now in rope climbing up rocks, the leader has the hardest job because he has to find the way up, and to climb without any rope to help him. but the second man has what is perhaps the most important job, for he is the anchor; it is on him that the life of the leader may depend, as well as the life of the man below. suppose three men are fastened on the rope almost fifty feet apart, as tom, mills and dr. kent were, for the average rope is about a hundred feet long. the first man starts climbing, and when he gets up nearly to the full play of his fifty feet of rope, he finds some ledge where he can rest, or some firm projection where he can throw his end of the rope over, take a half hitch, and thus make a firm line for the second man to climb with. the second man comes up to him, and the leader starts up again. but now he is starting well up from the ground, and if he got any higher and should fall, it would be bad, so the second man, before the leader starts up, takes a half turn around the firm projection with his end of the stretch of rope between himself and number one, or, if it is very steep and dangerous, perhaps giving the leader a play of only fifteen or twenty feet. then if the leader should slip and fall, instead of dragging off the second man with him, he would fall only the distance between himself and the point where the rope was secured to the rock. if the rope was strong, it would bring him up short, dangling against the cliff, and would not yank the second man off with him. of course, after three climbers are well up the face of a cliff, if the leader should fall without the rope being anchored between him and number two, he would drag all three men off with him, probably to death. that is why number two position is so important in rope climbing. and tom was not long in realizing this. he saw mills go up easily to a shelf forty feet above, and both the doctor and he scrambled up after him, without needing the rope at all. the next stage was not difficult, either, though the ranger, as soon as he was well above the shale pile, began to test his hand-holds and foot-holds with the utmost care, keeping in the faintly discernible goat track whenever he could. but when they were up a hundred and seventy-five feet or more, all three of them on a ledge about three feet wide, they found themselves directly against a perpendicular wall at least twenty-five feet high. mills was studying the situation. "coming down, the goats jump it from that shelf above," he said. "you can see their tracks here where they land. but they can't climb it going up. they swing off to the left, by this ledge--and look at it!" tom and the doctor looked. to the left the ledge shrank to a cornice actually not over six inches wide. "do you mean to tell me the goats walk around on that?" the doctor demanded. "sure," said mills. "it probably leads to an easy way around to the shelf over our heads, but we can't make it--at least, i don't want to try, unless i have to." tom looked at the six inch ledge, and the hundred and seventy-five foot drop below it, and said, "amen!" "all right--straight up," said the doctor. he looked for a firm projection of rock, and took a turn with the rope, while mills picked up the slack and tested it. the ranger studied the wall in front of him, and made a try. anchored by the doctor from below, he got up ten feet, but at that point he could not find a single handhold higher up which would bear his weight. after a long try, he descended to the ledge again. "no use, we've got to go around to the right, and climb that big gully," mills said. "if this wall stumps us, we'd find a dozen worse ones before we got to the top." to get to the gully to the east of them, they had to go along the ledge on which they stood. it was wider to the east than six inches, which was its width in the other direction, the direction the goats took at this point, but it wasn't any too wide for comfort, and in places the precipice above actually overhung it, and seemed to be crushing you down. in one place they had to crawl on their hands and knees under this overhang. in another place they came to what the doctor called "a real transverse"--that is, a very narrow shelf leading them around a projection from the ledge they were on to another one, with a sheer drop below it. this transverse ledge was about fifteen feet long before it widened. it may have been eighteen inches wide, but to tom it looked about six. it was level enough, and firm, but it was cut out of the side of an absolute precipice, and the sheer drop, before you hit any ledge or slope below, to break your fall, was at least a hundred feet. "dizzy?" the doctor asked tom, noting the expression that had come over the scout's face. "no," said tom. "but i feel as if i would be if i looked down." the doctor eyed him sharply. "i guess you're all right," he said. "remember, you'll be anchored fast, and look hard at your footing, focus on that, and don't see off at all. all ready, mills." the ranger walked out on the ledge quite calmly, a little sideways, so he could lean back toward the cliff, and tested each step to see that the ledge was firm and his spikes were gripping. then the doctor went, even more coolly than mills. tom swallowed a lump in his throat, called himself a "poor mut," and when he had the signal, followed the others. he kept his eyes on the ledge, as the doctor told him, though there was a horribly fascinating and indescribable temptation to peep from the corners of them down over the edge. he could feel the doctor taking up the slack of the rope as he came, so that with each step his fall would be shorter if he fell. then, suddenly, he was over! he had been cold before he started, with a chill in his back as the wind evaporated the perspiration. now he was suddenly hot again, and the sweat came out on his forehead. the doctor was smiling at him. "that's your real initiation in rock climbing," he said. "you're going good. keep it up!" the new ledge brought them to the big gully (the one you see, filled with snow, in the picture). it still had some snow in places when the party reached it, but for the most part it was clear, though there was a tiny trickle of water at the bottom. it was a great, rough, jagged trough scooped out of the cliff by ages of running snow water, and inclined at an angle not very far off the perpendicular. "not quite a real chimney," the doctor said briefly. "it's too big and open, and you can't stretch from side to side. looks as if we'd have to watch out for stones, too." "you will," said mills. even as he spoke, they heard a noise above them, and the ranger yelled, "jump for shelter!" all three sprang to one side of the gully, below a projecting shelf of rock, and past them, thundering down the chute, went a stone as big as a bucket, just loosened by melting snow above. tom watched it go past, and began to think the last place on the rope was not the softest berth he could imagine. the doctor now turned to him. "you see what you've got to look out for, tom," he said. "for each fresh climb, we'll pick a place where there is shelter for the man waiting below. but you've still got to be on the watch, and dodge quick. this is going to be a regular climb!" it was! for the next three hours tom did the liveliest and the hardest work he had ever put in. he had no chance to get dizzy looking down, for he never even dared to look down. he looked up, never knowing when the next stone or even shower of stones would descend upon him, and prepared every second to spring to right or left to dodge them. they climbed by sending mills out from under a protecting ledge and letting him shin up his fifty feet. then the doctor would follow, and when he was up with mills, tom would emerge from under the shelter, and join them. then they would repeat the process. but even with mills and the doctor standing still above him, tom had to look out for rocks. they were always coming down, loosened by the melting snow above, as well as by the feet of the climbers. and it was hard work, too. not only was the gully tremendously steep, but it was rough, in places wet and slippery, and finally half full of snow. when they reached the snow, their worst troubles came, for they had no ice axes to make steps, and without steps they could not climb on the snow, it was so steep. they had to work up the side of the gully, by whatever toe holds they could find. the gully was steeper than a flight of very steep stairs--in places, indeed, it was almost perpendicular,--and tom's breath began to come hard and his legs tremble with weariness. but mills kept plugging upward, and the towering, upright pinnacles of the summit began to loom nearer and nearer. finally mills, without warning, turned out of the gully, close to its top, and swung out on a wide ledge right under the final two or three hundred feet of the climb. on this ledge, which didn't show from below, was a regular little garden of moss campion and alpine wild flowers. "goat food," said mills, shortly. he had hardly spoken a word since the first bad place, and the doctor had been equally silent they sat down to rest on this wide ledge, and looked off at last upon the great prospect below them, with the lake, like a little green mirror now, far beneath. "wonderful!" the doctor exclaimed. "a magnificent balcony seat we have in this amphitheatre, and no ushers to bother us. mills, you're a good climber--you don't talk." mills smiled. "never knew a safe mountain man who did talk on a cliff or a glacier," said he. "no, you can't watch your footing and gabble at the same time. bah! how i hate a talker on a climb!" "a man came out here once in a big party," said the ranger. "i took 'em up cleveland. when we hit the real climb, he fetched out a sign from his pack, and hung it on his back. it read, 'i'm not very sociable when i'm climbing.'" the doctor and tom laughed, and the former added, "there's a wise man!" the ledge on which they sat, which was like a little secret garden hung up here two thousand feet above the lake, was covered with goat tracks, and mills pointed out several little caves, too, under overhanging rocks, where, he said, the kids were probably born. above them, the last three hundred feet of the cliff went up perfectly straight, and tom didn't see how they were going to get any farther. but mills presently rose and led the way to a "chimney," which is the name given to an open cleft in a rock wall. this chimney was so narrow that a man could brace his back on one side, and his feet on the other, and climb it just as you climb a well. of course, it was rough, with plenty of projections to cling to. mills had the hardest job here, for he had no rope to help him. the doctor spoke in here, breaking his rule. "do the goats use this chimney?" he shouted up. "sure," mills replied. "can't you see the marks of their hoofs? they jump from side to side right up it." "all i can say is, i'd like to see 'em," was the somewhat sceptical answer. the chimney work was great sport, but it was also hard work. tom's back was sore, his hands bruised, his arms weary, before they reached the top. but finally he saw mills disappear over the rim, and then the doctor; and finally he himself crawled out of the cleft, and stood on the very summit of the precipice. and then tom gasped, and forgot he was hot, forgot he was tired, forgot his hands were bruised by the rough rocks, forgot the moments when his heart had been either in his boots or his throat, forgot everything but the bigness of that prospect! he almost forgot to look at his watch; but the doctor didn't. "four hours and a half to go two thousand feet!" the doctor said. "that's the hardest rock climb i ever made. you don't need to go to switzerland for real mountain climbing, mills. you've got it here, right in your back yard." chapter xvii--tom sees both mountain sheep and goats do their wild leaps down dizzy ledges below the great wall up which they had climbed lay the little green lake, and now they could see a horseback party which had come up to the shore, see them with the utmost distinctness, like tiny toys. out beyond the lake stretched the green cañon, back to camp, and all to the south the piled up peaks and white snow-fields. but it was to the north that the view was best. the spot where they stood was not on the divide, but a spur, or spine of rock running east from the divide. this spine was only thirty or forty feet wide in places, and plunged down to the north, not quite so steeply, but quite steeply enough, to another little lake, and beyond that lake shot up the ragged gray and brown and red battlements of mount merritt. merritt also stands just east of the divide, so that they were looking into a second horseshoe amphitheatre, and on the high, steep sides of this amphitheatre, extending almost to the top of mount merritt, were no less than five glaciers. it was a wild, desolate picture, far wilder than the iceberg lake cirque, because there was less verdure, and not a trail or human being in it--only glaciers and precipices and wild, tumbled, jagged mountains. the doctor gazed in silence for several minutes, and then he said, "tom, how do you like it?" "oh, it's wonderful! i never knew anything in the world could be so--so big and lonely and sort of endless." the doctor smiled. "my family and a lot of my friends think i'm crazy to risk my neck climbing," he went on, "but they don't know. they don't know the fun of pitting your human cunning and will power against a precipice, and then, when you've conquered it, reaching a wild spot like this and seeing the whole world spread out at your feet. there's nothing like it. i give my patients pills, but this is the medicine i take myself." they now ate their sandwiches, which were pretty well mashed up in their pockets, and quenched their thirst as best they could by eating snow. then they explored along the ragged ridge a bit, finding in the centre of the spine, winding in and out amid the rough battlements, a distinct game trail, like a foot-path. in spots it was so plain that you would have thought men walked over it every day. mills presently went on ahead, softly, and after a while they saw him beckoning to them, and cautioning silence. he was at the edge of the cliff, peering over. tom and the doctor tiptoed up and looked over, also. there, not a hundred feet below them, on a wide ledge, were five goats! there was an old billy, standing on the edge, looking off and down, evidently inspecting with some suspicion the party which was now lighting a camp-fire for luncheon down on the lake shore. there were two nannies, one eating moss and one scratching herself with her hind leg. and, finally, there were two kids, as playful as kittens, jumping around. now and then one of the kids would give a leap and go up the cliff to a rock projection higher than his head, jump from that to another, and so climb ten or a dozen feet. then he would jump off, head foremost, and land beside the old goats. the three unsuspected human beings watched them for several minutes. it certainly was a pretty sight, and the most wonderful part of it to tom was that these kids were born up here, thousands of feet above the level earth, and perhaps would never get lower in their lives than the shale slide above iceberg lake! "you always have to get at 'em from above," mills whispered. "they don't seem to expect danger from that quarter. it's below that they watch out. want to see 'em dive?" the doctor nodded, and the ranger suddenly gave a loud shout. the old billy did not even look up. he simply went head foremost over the edge of the shelf, where he had been standing, and disappeared. one by one, in exactly the same place, the others followed him, a kid going last. from where the men lay, a hundred feet above, the goats appeared to be dropping off into space, and to certain death. "good gracious!" dr. kent exclaimed. "where'd they go to?" mills didn't answer. his eyes were scanning the cliff wall below. suddenly he pointed to the left, at least two hundred yards away and lower down the slope. there were the five goats, trotting along like three big snowballs and two little ones, on a shelf not a foot wide. they went around a sort of cornice on a shelf so narrow that the men, a quarter of a mile away, actually could not see it at all--the goats seemed to be just moving like flies on a wall--and disappeared. a moment later they came in sight again, farther around on the cliff, climbing rapidly up a gully, or chimney, by sharp, quick leaps from side to side, each leap landing them higher, and at the top they reached a shelf which led to the summit, and disappeared. "they'll go down on the other side, and be over on mount merritt in an hour," said mills. "oh, you get a lot of exercise hunting 'em!" "we could have got a shot at 'em at the very start, before you scared them," said the doctor, "and after that there wasn't a spot they took where a man could follow till they were out of range, or a spot where he could have shot one without its falling so far it would smash the head to bits. if i hunted, that's the sport i'd like! the game has a better chance than you do. but i don't hunt, thank the lord." "you'd better not, in the park," mills laughed. "i wish i could show you a bighorn, now. they beat the goats at diving, though they don't climb up so well, or no better." the men went back to the place where they had left the rope, and decided it was time to begin the descent. but before starting, the ranger made another little trip along the top, in the opposite direction, in the hopes of seeing a sheep, for he said he knew sheep were around there. "if i signal, bring the rope along," he said, "and come softly. we might be able to make one take a good jump." he must have been nearly a quarter of a mile away when he waved his hand, and tom and the doctor hurried toward him. again he was peering over the cliff, this time on the north side, at a point where it was very steep. it dropped straight down about forty feet to a ledge, and on this ledge was a fine old ram, with magnificent curling horns, two ewes, and one lamb. they were all feeding, quite unaware of danger, evidently secure in the knowledge that no prowling mountain lion would drop down those forty feet of precipice from above. the ledge on one side led out to an easy slope. on the other side it narrowed to about four feet, and then ended abruptly. "quick!" mills whispered, taking the rope. softly, without a sound, he hitched it around a rock pile, and held the free end. "now, the instant i throw this over," he whispered again, "you and tom go down it. the sheep will be cut off, and have to jump from the other end of the ledge. they'll go quick, and you'll have to, also, to see 'em." the doctor and tom stood by, mills dropped the rope over the edge, and first dr. kent and then tom slid down it, so fast their hands burned. but the sheep were quicker. before they reached the ledge, the last one was overboard. tom and his companion dashed to the end where they had jumped, lay on their stomachs, and peered down over. it was a drop of twenty feet or so to the first shelf below. on this shelf were the two ewes and the lamb. the old ram had already jumped to the next one, another twenty feet lower. this second shelf was tiny, and would hold only one sheep at a time. more than that, it was not directly under the first, but six or eight feet to the left. as the man and boy reached the edge, they saw the ram leave this shelf head foremost, and go down the cliffside, kicking the wall as he went with his hoofs, and land on a third ledge, seventy-five feet below them. no sooner was he off, than one of the ewes jumped for the shelf he had just deserted. she, too, kicked the wall with her hoofs, striking hard, incredibly rapid blows, and these kicks, very carefully directed, propelled her just far enough to one side as she fell to enable her to reach the shelf. when she landed on it, with all four feet bunched, it looked from above as if her shoulders were coming up through the brown wool on her back. she seemed to bounce as she hit, and with the bounce went right off again, to the ledge below, which the old ram had already left, and was now on a safe, wide shelf far beneath, and trotting off toward the slopes that led around to the wall of the great divide. the second ewe followed her, with exactly the same tactics, and then the lamb went bouncing down, as if it was all a game, landed almost like a rubber ball, bounced off to the next ledge, kicking the cliff wall with his little hoofs faster than a cat can strike with its paw. in much less time than it has taken to tell it, all the sheep were on the slope a hundred feet below, and before the doctor and tom could get up on their feet again, the little flock was out of sight around a shoulder of the cliff! "well! i've seen chamois in the alps, but i never saw anything like that!" the doctor cried. "the cool nerve of that lamb! why, they go right off into space, and their eyes are so accurate and their feet so quick that they kick themselves six feet to one side in falling twenty, and land safely on a shelf not big enough for a boy to stand on!" the two climbed back up the rope to mills. "get a good show?" he asked. "that was the most interesting and thrilling exhibition of animal strength and skill i ever witnessed," dr. kent answered. "and what a handsome creature the old ram is, with those great, curving horns! why, a monkey in a tree isn't so active and daring! besides, the monkey has branches to fall into, and the sheep have only space, with sure death below. aren't they ever killed? don't they ever miss?" "oh, yes," said the ranger. "but in all the years i used to hunt 'em, i never saw one miss badly enough to be killed on a cliff he knew. it's when they get surprised and have to jump on a strange wall, maybe on the way to some new feeding ground, that they hit an impossible dive. on their regular beats, they seem to know every foot of the rocks. sometimes the snowslides catch 'em in winter, though." they were walking back, or, rather, scrambling back, toward the point where their chimney came up, as mills talked. it was getting along in the afternoon now, the tourist party was leaving iceberg lake and winding down the trail like ants, and the three, without further delay, prepared to descend. and now, for the first time, tom learned the use of the doubled rope, in the descent. the doctor's rope, which had seemed clumsily long to him on the way up--a hundred feet for only three men--now was not long enough! they did not fasten themselves to it at all, except on the dangerous transverses. instead, they hung it at the centre around some firm rock, dropped the two ends down the cliff, and then, grasping both strands, slid down them to the farthest ledge below which they could reach. that meant a possible slide of fifty feet, of course, with a hundred foot rope. then, when all three were at the bottom, all they had to do was to pull on one strand, and the other side would go up till the end was freed from the rock above and came tumbling down. by this method they could take straight drops down the very steepest places, when, on the ascent, they had been obliged to work in the gully, with falling rocks threatening them. it amounted to descending by fifty foot jumps, and as soon as tom learned to keep both strands of the rope equally firm in his hands so that there was no play whatever, he felt quite confident. of course, to let go of either strand while you are descending the doubled rope means that all your weight comes on one side, the top will slip, and down you will go. to avoid that, either mills or the doctor came last for several hundred feet, keeping a hand on the rope while tom slid down. but they soon saw he had the hang of it, and let him go first, or last, or in the middle, as it chanced, without any more worry. by this method, their descent was rapid. of course, it took time, for they had a long way to go, and you never hurry on a dangerous cliff. you go cautiously, deliberately, and sometimes you have to hunt three or four minutes to find a strong enough hold for the rope. but it was much faster than the ascent, and even though tom's hands were soon red and burning from sliding down the rope, for he had no leather gloves, he enjoyed this new sport more than anything he had ever done. they reached the top of the shale pile at last, at half-past six, having kept to the goat trail all the way down, out of the gully. they coiled up the rope, and went lunging down over the loose shale and then through the scrub trees and bushes, to the brook which flowed out to the lake. here, as if on a signal, all three of them dropped on their knees on the stones, buried their faces in the ice water, and drank, and drank, and drank. "so much perspiring, and such rapid evaporation in the wind up there, certainly does use up the water in your system," the doctor said, as his face emerged dripping from the brook, and he put on his glasses again. "free ice water, too. look at the chunks of ice floating around in it--and here it is august, and flowers growing on the bank!" mills got the horses, and they mounted. tom could hardly have truthfully said he "vaulted into the saddle," however. he got up with considerable difficulty, for he was stiff and lame, and his arms were trembling from such long, hard strain in going up and then down the rope. but it was certainly good to be in the saddle, once you got there, and find yourself being carried, instead of having to do the work. the ranger at once began to trot. the trail to iceberg lake is such a good one, and the grade is so easy, that you can trot over a good deal of the distance, and mills did not let any grass grow under their feet, especially as the horses were fresh. when they reached the woods near home, and the trail was almost level, he broke into a gallop, and with the doctor (who was not a good rider) wildly hanging to the horn of his saddle, they tore past a party just coming in from swift current, and dashed up to the tepee camp, where joe was waiting for them. the camp was full of hikers--a whole party of men and women, ten or a dozen. they were busily cooking on the stove, and the doctor looked anything but pleased. "where do i come in, joe?" he asked, as he climbed from his horse. "i thought maybe you'd rather come down to our little camp for supper," said joe. "i can't use the stove here till this gang gets through, and tom and i have a rough sort of table at our camp, and i have supper all ready to cook there, and i planned to have mr. mills come, too. tom and i will sort of give a party." "well, now, that's fine!" said the doctor. "mills and i accept. let me wash up in my tepee first, and i'll be with you." he went into his tepee. "i'll take the horses up to the cabin," said the ranger, "and be with you in a jiffy. say, tom," [he added this in a low tone] "we had his number wrong. he knows the climbing game from the bottom up--he's careful, he's got nerve, he can pick a hold every time, and he don't gas. he gets my vote." "mine, too!" tom answered. "everything o.k. here?" tom asked joe. "these people got wood, and cots, and everything?" "sure--beat it, and wash your mug. gee, you're dirty!" joe laughed. "well, i guess you'd be if you'd been kissin' an old precipice all day," tom retorted. "oh, gee, joe--this is the life! some climb! some old goats and sheep! some park!" "yes, and go and wash up if you want some supper." joe made sure the hikers had everything they needed or wanted, and hurried down the path to the scout camp, where he began to cook the supper, while tom was having a wash and getting into dry underclothes and shirt. he had been to the chalet store that afternoon and restocked the larder, and secured a piece of a big, fresh steak which had just come in by motor bus. this he now broiled over as good a bed of coals as he could get from his soft wood fire. he had coffee already boiling, and hot soup, and some nice canned beans, and french fried potatoes, and a surprise for dessert--nothing less than four plates of fresh huckleberries, which he had stumbled upon while taking a walk that noon, and picked into his hat. when mills and the doctor arrived, this supper was all ready, and the two men and two boys sat down on the log seats around the rough table of boards, and ate and talked, and talked and ate, while the evening shadows crossed the lake and the lights of the big hotel could be seen twinkling through the trees. it was a jolly meal, and a good one, and tom had never in his life felt so hungry, and deliciously lame and sore and tired, so that a long draught of hot coffee seemed to go warming and tingling through all his body. after supper, joe would not let him go back to the tepee camp, but went himself to see that everything was fixed for the night. tom just sat by the blazing camp-fire, while mills and dr. kent smoked, and listened to the talk of the two men, who swapped yarns about mountain climbing. the doctor had been up rock crags in the austrian tyrol, thrilling precipices steeper than the wall of iceberg lake, and he had climbed over ice and snow, also, where you had to cut steps with an ice axe. but mills, who had never been east of omaha in his life, had once ridden down a mountain on a snow avalanche, (needless to say, without intending to!) and had seen a mother goat standing over her kid on the ledge of a precipice fighting off a bald eagle. tom listened with ears wide open, and though he was sleepy and tired, he was sorry when the men rose to depart. "i'll come here for breakfast, boys, if you don't mind," the doctor said. "those hikers may be an estimable collection of citizens and citizenesses, but i came out here to get away from folks. good-night, tom. we'll have to have one more climb before i go--day after to-morrow, i guess. to-morrow i'm going back to iceberg lake and look at the flowers more carefully. good-night, joe. good-night, mills. thanks for coming to-day. you rocky mountain goat hunters don't need any course of training in the alps." "good-night," the scouts called, as the two men disappeared in opposite directions. tom told joe all that had happened as they got ready for bed, and ended by declaring he was too excited still to go to sleep. joe laughed. "i thought i was, the first day over piegan," said he. "but the old rockies fooled me. i slept, all right. so'll you." and tom did. in fact, it is doubtful if he heard the tail end of joe's sentence. chapter xviii--joe gets good news from the doctor, and the scouts name their camp, "camp kent" the next morning dr. kent arrived, rather cross, at the boys' camp, for the hikers had waked him up early, and he told joe nothing but a good breakfast would set the world right. joe did his best, and then put up some lunch for him, and he went off presently in better spirits, to spend the day, as he put it, "loafing with the wild flowers and inviting my soul." joe also cooked his dinner when he returned at night. the next day, he said, would be his last, and he insisted that tom go with him up on grinnell glacier. "we'll have a little more practice with the rope," he said, "and you can see if you can tumble into a crevasse the way your friend joe did." so joe, for a second time, took charge of the camp, and tom left with the doctor, bright and early. it wasn't a hard climb up to the glacier, and they crossed it, using tom's scout axe for cutting steps when necessary, and the doctor sent tom ahead a little way up a cliff, and then reversed positions on the rope, and let tom take number two position. they climbed far enough up on the great gray shoulder of gould mountain to look down on the glacier, on the lake far below that, on the green meadow, and then returned leisurely to camp. on the way back tom got up courage to ask dr. kent what he had been longing to ask him ever since he learned of his profession. that was, to examine joe. he told his new friend of joe's condition, and why they were in the park, and how he was responsible for him, and did not want him to go on trips and do hard work if it wasn't safe. "i'll see if i can borrow a stethoscope from the hotel," dr. kent said. "there must be a house physician there. then i'll give him the once over, gladly. anybody who can make coffee like his mustn't be allowed to die! but he doesn't look like a sick boy to me." true to his word, he got the instrument, and before dinner took joe into the scouts' tent, stripped him, and examined him very carefully. "who told you you had tuberculosis?" he finally said. "dr. meyer," joe replied. "what dr. meyer--not julius meyer?" "yes, sir, in southmead." "well, if _he_ said you had, then i suppose you did have," dr. kent replied. "but, frankly, i can't find any trace of it in your lungs now." "but ought he to do hard work?" tom asked. "i wouldn't let him over-strain," the doctor said, "and if he climbs, make him climb rather slowly. but out here in this wonderful land i don't believe he need worry much any more. if you can keep him here for a few months more, living this outdoor life, and then if he is careful when he gets back, i think he'll be a well man by the time he gets his full growth." "but we have to get back to go to school," joe said. "i couldn't let old spider lose out on school, even if i did." "what are you planning to become? what are you studying to be?" the man asked. "we want to go into the forest service," both scouts answered. "oh, fine! that's a coming job, boys, but one that joe can't take, if he isn't cured thoroughly. think of this--your life out here is the best training you could have for the forest service. you can afford to miss six months of school to learn how to live in the big woods and the wild places. if you should camp with mills till christmas, say, you'd really be going to school, and joe would be taking tonic twenty-four hours a day. think it over, boys." that night, after dinner, which he again ate at the scouts' camp, the tepee camp being again filled up with hikers, he paid joe at the regular rate of three dollars a day for cooking his meals, and paid for the food, all except the dinner joe had got ready the night of the first climb, which the scouts declared was their treat. then he picked up his alpine rope and handed it to tom. "how'd you like this for a souvenir?" he asked. tom gasped. "for _me_!" he exclaimed. "oh, dr. kent, i--i--why, what'll you do?" "i'm taking the bus out in the morning," the doctor said. "i've other ropes at home. you boys might like to do a little climbing. but promise me you'll pick easy grades to learn on, unless mills is with you." "thank you!" tom cried. "i--i never guessed i'd own a real alpine rope. feel of it, joe--ain't it soft?" "i move we name this shack of ours camp kent," said joe. "carried!" tom cried. "camp kent it is--and i guess we won't forget whom it's named for in a hurry, either." "thanks, boys," the doctor laughed. "and i won't forget you. i wish i were going to stay here a month, and use the rope with you. but i've got to get back to the sick people who can't come to the park for a tonic. good-bye--and good luck. joe, keep up the good work--live out-of-doors, keep dry, don't worry, and you'll live to be ninety-nine. tom--don't forget to test your anchor stone! i'll be out in the morning early, and get my grub at the hotel. good-bye." "good-bye," the boys said. and when he was gone they looked at each other, at the coil of soft, strong, beautifully braided alpine rope, and tom exclaimed: "well, by gosh! you never can tell. when he blew in, with those funny old blue socks on, and the spectacles, and his talk about the matterhorn, i thought he was a freak or hot air artist, and so did mr. mills. instead of that he's a prince--that's what he is, a prince!" "i never said anything at the time," joe answered. "but i liked him all along. gee, i bet he's a good doc, all right." "i bet he is, too--and he says you're all right now!" tom cried, giving joe a punch and a hug. "we can go climbing with this old rope together pretty soon. by jiminy, we _got_ to carry our cameras up a cliff and get some goat pictures. say, that's the sport! and i'm going to see mr. mills about staying on with him, and write home about school, and we'll just stay here and see the snow come, and get our skis sent on, and, gee, it'll be wonderful!" "if we do that, i got to get busy and earn money," joe replied. "i'm going over to the saddle company offices at the hotel to-morrow and see about another cooking job." "go to it," said spider. "i'm willing, now the doc says it's o.k." but he didn't have to go over to the hotel. that very evening a bell-boy from the hotel came for him, and he set out the next morning with a party on a four day trip. they went over piegan pass again, then up into the red eagle country south of st. mary lake, then up on to the top of the divide over triple divide peak, where the water from the snow-fields flows in three directions--to the pacific, to the missouri river, and so to the gulf of mexico, and to the st. mary river, then the saskatchewan river and so to hudson bay and the arctic ocean. they descended to the headwaters of the cut bank river (so called because of its steep banks) and camped in a lovely cañon. then, for the next stage, they climbed practically over the old war trail of the blackfeet indians, who went across the divide over cut bank pass to attack their foes, the flathead indians, on the west side. then, for their final stage, they took the so-called dry fork trail, to two medicine lake. this was a thrilling trip, over a portion of the divide that truly deserved the indian name of the backbone of the world. at one point the knife-blade ridge was only thirty feet wide, with yawning precipices on either side. the chief guide said, "this is the place where they say you can spit down into the lake three thousand feet on the east, and throw a stone more than that on the west." joe didn't have to get off his horse and try, in order to believe him. and he was glad enough there was not a gale blowing, too! the trail finally led down around the base of old rising wolf mountain to the two medicine chalets, on the lake, where the party spent the night. early the next morning, the party left for the railroad by bus, and joe went with them to glacier park hotel, where he caught the many glacier morning bus back to his own camp. it was a fine trip, with splendid scenery, but he missed mills as the chief guide, and still more he missed the friendly companionship of bob, alice and lucy, who had made his first trip so much like a family party. on this second trip he was just the cook for a group of three men and their wives. but it meant twelve more precious dollars for his fund--or, rather, it meant six dollars for his fund, and six to send home to his mother. when he got back "home," as he called it, he found tom had carved a sign, "camp kent," on a piece of board, and nailed it to a tree by their tent. he also found tom full of an exciting piece of news. "there's going to be a blackfeet indian pow-wow here at many glacier to-morrow," he said, "and it's going to end with a barbecue, which big bertha says is almost as good as a hi-yu-mulligan-potlatch." "as a _what_?" joe demanded. "no, not a _what_, a hi-yu-mulligan-potlatch," tom laughed. "big bertha says out in washington, where he comes from, when they want to give the indians a good time they give 'em a potlatch, which means a free feed, and a mulligan potlatch is one where the free feed is mulligan stew, and a hi-yu-mulligan-potlatch is just a jim-swizzler of a potlatch that makes an indian yell, hi-yu! get it now?" "i get it," joe laughed. "but what's a pow-wow, and why's it being held here?" "i guess a pow-wow is short for an indian good time, and it's being held here to give the folks at the hotel something to look at--as if the mountains weren't enough. the hotel is crammed full, and so are the chalets, and i had three people in every tepee last night. i've been doing nothing since you left but chop wood, and haul water, and air blankets." "poor old tom," said joe. "well, i got twelve cartwheels in my jeans--feels like a ton o' coal, too. that'll help toward the autumn. now i'll help you get the camp ready for the hikers that are coming in to-night." "it's all ready," tom answered. "the crowd last night got away early this morning. the indians are going to get here this afternoon, and set up their tepees down on the flats below the falls. we're going to walk down there now and see 'em come in, so hurry up and get yourself some grub. i've had mine. i was up at five to-day and couldn't wait for your old bus to get in at one-thirty." "i'll be with you in fifteen minutes," said joe, as he put some bacon in a pan. chapter xix--the indian pow-wow--tom and joe get into the squaw dance the indians were arriving when the boys reached the meadows below the falls, and were already beginning to set up their wigwams, or tepees, beside the swift current. the chiefs and braves, in their indian dress, with feathered head-gear and bright blankets, were on horseback, and so were most of the squaws and children; but the tepees were being transported from the reservation out on the prairie in motor buses, and there was even an entire indian family in a touring car, with the brave at the wheel! "gee whiz, times change all right," said spider. "even the indians have automobiles." nearly a hundred blackfeet arrived, all told, fine looking men and women for the most part, although the older squaws were fat and huddled up in their blankets, looking like funny bears. what struck joe and tom first of all, however, was the good nature of these indians. "i always thought indians were silent and sort of grouchy," tom said to mills, who was on hand to help the indians get settled in camp and see that the hotel, which had induced them to come, provided enough for them to eat. "not at all," the ranger answered. "they are always laughing and joking, as you see. they are a very happy people, and they have a mighty hard time of it, too. they don't know how to raise cattle or grain, because they've always been hunters. now the government has taken the park away from them, and won't let 'em hunt here, and they half starve every winter. i tell you, i'm sorry for 'em." the boys moved among them freely, listening to their strange language, and watching the tepees go up. some of these tepees were made of tanned skins, mostly elk skins, but one or two very old ones of buffalo skins. they were stretched around a frame of lodge-pole pines, leaving a hole at the peak where the smoke could rise, as through a chimney. on the outside were painted in various colors bands and designs, and in the case of the chiefs, funny figures of buffalo and men chasing them on horseback, and other men being killed in battle. these pictures, mills said, were painted by the chiefs themselves, and depicted the life history and exploits of each warrior. "good idea," tom laughed. "you sort of paint your autobiography on the outside of your house." "i suppose when you get home, you'll draw a picture of yourself climbing a cliff, over your front door," said joe. "and you can draw yourself falling down the cellar hatchway," tom retorted. by late afternoon, the tepees were all up, smoke was ascending from the peaks, the horses of each brave were tethered near their master's lodge, in the centre of the camp was a large, flat open space, to be used later for the dances, and here the little indian children were now playing. when the flap of a lodge was lifted, you could see women inside, cooking or laying beds of skins and blankets. the funny indian dogs, mongrels of all shapes, sizes and colors, were roaming around. beside the camp flowed the swift current, green and foaming, and behind it rose the towering walls of the cañon sides. except for the tourists who had come down from the hotel to watch, and the one indian automobile parked near by, the camp might have been an indian village of two hundred years ago, before the white men ever came. tom and joe were reluctant to leave, it all seemed so like a picture out of the past, the picture of a life and a race now fast vanishing from the earth. they took many pictures of the camp before they finally went back to their own camp, to see if any hikers had arrived. a party was coming down the trail just as they got there, and tom was soon busy. but when supper was over, he and joe went back, taking the hikers along, to see the camp again. as they drew near, they heard strange noises, the tÚm-_tum_, tÚm-_tum_, of indian drums. the pow-wow had begun. "it won't amount to much, though, till to-morrow," mills said. "they just get worked up a little to-night." there was a big fire going in the central dancing ground, and near it, dressed in all their finery, two of them stripped bare to the waist with their skins covered with yellow paint, were the three makers of music, each holding a shallow skin drum in one hand and beating it with the other, in a regular, monotonous, unvaried rhythm, a two-foot beat, heavily accented on the first foot--tÚm-_tum_, tÚm-_tum_, tÚm-_tum_, over and over, rather slowly. as they pounded out this rhythm, they kept laughing, emitting yells and calls, and sometimes sang. meanwhile some boy or young brave would spring out into the fire-light, in the centre of the ring of braves and squaws and children squatted or standing around, and dance to the music, going through strange gestures, brandishing a decorated spear, stooping, bending, circling around, but always, the boys soon detected, adhering to some formal plan, although they didn't know what this dance might signify, and always surprisingly graceful. "some of those dances are very intricate," mills said to them, as an indian boy, after finishing a hard dance, dropped panting back into the circle, while the older braves applauded and another took his place instantly. "it takes a boy weeks to learn them, and each one has a meaning. it may be the boy's medicine dance, part of the ritual which will keep harm away from him." even after the scouts left, they could hear the tÚm-_tum_ of the drums, till the roar of the falls drowned it. the next day they hurried back, as soon as the camp work was done, and found the indians dancing again, in broad daylight now, of course, with a great crowd of tourists around watching them. they were still at it when the boys came back after luncheon, seemingly untiring. but presently they stopped, and an old chief stepped out and began to make a speech. "what's he talking about?" tom asked mills, edging in close to the circle. "don't ask me--i can't talk the language," the ranger answered. "hi, pete, what's old stabs-by-mistake saying?" this last question was addressed to a half-breed who was standing just in front of them, in the indian circle. pete, who was dressed in cowboy costume, but without any hat, turned with a grin. "he says they are going to take my white man name away from me, and give me a blackfeet name," pete replied. "he says the white men give the mountains foolish white man names, but i'm part indian, and they're going to take my name, pete jones, away from me." stabs-by-mistake (that was really the name of the old chief, and not a joke of mills') now beckoned pete into the middle of the circle. two or three young braves danced around him, while the drums beat and all the indians shouted and sang, and then the braves seized him, pretended to grab something from him with their hands, and ran with this imaginary thing to some bushes outside the camp. they disappeared in these bushes, speedily reappeared holding up their hands to show they were empty, and came back to the circle. "i suppose they dropped his old name in the bushes!" joe laughed. "sure," said mills. now stabs-by-mistake rose to make another speech. pete stood before him, and he talked for two or three minutes right at him, with many gestures, while the indians listened. the boys could see that he had not yet given him a new name, and all the blackfeet were waiting, excited, to see what the new name was going to be. finally, stabs-by-mistake laid his hand on pete's shoulder and spoke very solemnly. then he spoke the new name. as he spoke it, he gave pete a great slap on the back as a sort of period to his oration, and at the same instant the entire circle of indians broke out into shouts of laughter. pete looked sheepish, and came back toward the ranger, red and grinning. "well, what's your name now?" mills asked. "he made a big talk about giving me the name of a great chief, gone to the sand hills long ago, and then he said it was lazy-boy-afraid-to-work. that's why they are all laughing." mills laughed, too. "he's got your number, pete," said he. now another chief was making a speech, and pete grinned at mills. "you're in for it now," he chuckled. "yellow wolf says they're going to give you an indian name." "oh, help!" mills exclaimed. he was led into the circle, looking uncomfortable and shy with so many tourists gazing at him. but the boys knew he would rather have cut off his right hand than hurt the indians' feelings by refusing. for him, the ceremony was much more serious. there was no laughing, and yellow wolf made a grave and evidently impassioned speech to the tribe, who listened and applauded. they did not go through the comic ceremony of taking the ranger's old name out into the bushes, but instead they sat him down in a smaller circle of the chiefs, and passed an indian pipe around. then, standing once more, they danced and sang, and finally yellow wolf gave him his new name, with a slap on the shoulder, while the crowd expressed approval. then a gorgeous feathered head-dress was put on his head, instead of a hat, and when he finally rejoined the boys, he was still wearing this. "what's your name?" tom asked. "what is it, pete?" said mills. "tail-feathers-coming-over-the-hill," said pete. "he was a fine indian, too--medicine man." "i thought so," mills answered. "i thought i recognized it. well, boys, i suppose i'm a blackfoot now! you know" (he added this in a lower tone) "they are grateful to me because in the hard winter last year i didn't prosecute one of 'em for killing a sheep, but got the government to send 'em some food, so they wouldn't have to poach. tail-feathers-coming-over-the-hill was a fine old indian. i'm proud to have his name." "it's some name!" the scouts laughed. now that these ceremonies were over, the indians fell to dancing again, and the beat of the three drums, the calls and songs, rose on the air. seeing the crowd of tourists about, and filled with fun and good spirits, the indians started the squaw dance, the dance in which the women and even the larger children of the tribe take part. the three drummers stood in the middle, pounding their sheepskin drums, and around them, in a ring, holding hands or linking elbows, everybody facing inward, the indians revolved by a curious little side step with a bend to the right knee, in time to the tÚm-_tum_, tÚm-_tum_, of the drums. every moment or two a couple of chiefs or braves would dart out of the circle, seize some white woman or girl, and drag her laughing back into the ring. then the young squaws began to run out and grab white men. two indian maidens seized joe, while tom got his camera hastily into action. "now, look pleasant, joey!" he laughed. "we'll have this picture enlarged for the scout house--joe and the indian maidens!" the girls placed joe in the circle, and he began to revolve with the rest. one of the girls beckoned at tom, as much as to say, "shall we get him?" joe nodded, and the girl spoke to another squaw maid on her left, and the two of them left the line and seized tom, also, keeping fast hold of his hands and dragging him with much laughter into the revolving ring. before long as many as two hundred people, indians and white, old folks and young, men, women and children, were all revolving in a great circle about the three drummers, who were beating violently, singing, shouting. the indian women began to sing, also, a strange tune, with only one phrase, repeated over and over. of course, the boys could not understand the words, or even tell for sure sometimes whether there were any words. but the tune got into their heads. they could never sing it afterwards just as the indians did, for the indian scale, the intervals, are different from ours, but they could come somewhere near it, as they danced around their camp. the squaw dance lasted until the "pale faces" began to get tired and drop out of the ring. then the indians went back to their former solo dances, their other songs, their general jollification and curious games. but the three drummers, without any rest, kept right on pounding and shouting and singing, as if nothing could tire them. they were still at it when the scouts had to return to their duties at the camp, and all that evening, too, they kept it up. the next day the steer was to be roasted, in a fire pit dug and prepared by the indians themselves, but joe did not see that, for he received word that evening to start out early the following morning with a party over swift current pass, and down to lake mcdonald. tom went to see the beginning of the ceremony, but the process of roasting an entire steer isn't very pretty, nor very tempting, and he didn't stay. beside, he had a big party of hikers to look after, and his own meals to cook now joe was away. he returned to camp kent, looked longingly at his coil of alpine rope, took his axe, and went at the task of replenishing the wood supply. chapter xx--the scouts start on a trip together at last, to climb chief mountain joe was gone five days, coming back over gunsight and piegan pass, the reverse of the route he had taken on his first trip. but this time, he was getting so at home in the saddle that he could manage the packhorses without worrying, could throw a diamond hitch as well as the next man, and cook for a crowd without having too much left over, or not enough prepared--not that there is ever much danger of having anything left over in the rocky mountains! everybody eats while there's food in sight. but tom was pretty lonely without him, especially as the ranger was away, too, for the first three days. but on the fourth day big bertha called tom up to the chalet office, and told him something that made him very happy, though it didn't seem to please big bertha at all. "tom," said he, "i've got to fire you." (this isn't what made tom happy. it made his heart drop into his boots for a second, before he realized that the man was trying to get a rise out of him.) "yes," the manager went on, "there's a party of men from washington at the hotel. they came over piegan, and they've been up to iceberg lake to-day, and now they want to climb chief mountain. somebody's told 'em about it, and nothing for it but they must go up there. there's no cook for 'em till joe gets back, and the saddle company is short on guides anyhow, and hasn't anybody who knows chief mountain. mills says he'll lead the party, if he can have you and your rope. he won't go otherwise. now, that puts me in a hole, because i'll have to go short handed and send one of my boys down to look after the tepees. but these washington guys are big bugs of some sort, and i suppose we gotter please 'em. so day after to-morrow you start, if joe gets back." "hooray!" tom shouted. "old joey and i'll be on a trip together!" "yes, and what about me? you don't seem sorry for me at all," said big bertha. "i'm not," tom laughed. "i'll cut up enough wood to-morrow for a week, and clean the stove, and fix everything up. guess you can worry along." "you are a heartless, ungrateful creature," said big bertha, in his funny, high voice. but tom knew that he was really glad to give him this chance to see chief mountain. the next day mills and tom got together and made all the arrangements for the trip, for they knew joe would not get in till late, over the twenty-two mile piegan trail. it was to be a long expedition--probably a week--and needed considerable planning, for they were going north, where there were no chalets, no stores nor camps, and they had to carry everything. fortunately, there were only three men in the party, so mills, joe and tom were the only guides necessary. but it meant tents, provisions, blankets, and that meant packhorses--good ones, too, which were hard to pick, for the season was late, and the horses were all getting thin and tired. joe came in late, as they expected, and though he, too, was tired after the long ride over piegan, he gave a whoop of joy at tom's announcement. tom made him sit down, however, and got the supper himself. "and you're going to bed early," he added. "this is the real thing ahead of us now--chief mountain, maybe the belly river cañon, and mills says maybe cleveland, the highest mountain in the park, if the weather is good. he says, though, it's getting time for a storm again. anyhow, we'll see old cleveland. gee--it'll be great to be on a rope again!" "you talk as if you'd climbed the matterhorn all your life," joe laughed. the next morning at six o'clock the ranger and the two boys were at the hotel, and beginning to pack the horses. for this trip they took but two tents, one for the three men, one for themselves. enough food was the main requirement. they got everything, including blankets, on four horses, saving a fifth horse for the dunnage bags, which the men speedily brought out. of course, joe and tom looked at these men carefully. when you are going to be on the trail and in camp with people for a whole week, you are pretty interested to know what sort of folks they are, and whether you are going to like them. one of these three was young, not over twenty-two or twenty-three, the son of the oldest man in the party. the father, whom mills addressed as mr. crimmins, had gray hair, but he looked hardy and strong, with a quick, sharp way of talking and quick motions. he and his friend, mr. taylor, a man of about forty, were both connected with the state department at washington, mills said. the young man, robert crimmins, was just out of college. "they look good to me," joe whispered to tom. "i ain't saying a word," tom answered. "not after doc kent. wait and see." the fifth horse was now packed, and the expedition started. but instead of turning up any of the trails toward the range, mills led the way straight down the automobile road, toward the prairie. it seemed funny to joe to be setting off on a trip in this direction, right away from the high places, but the horses liked it. they liked the comparatively smooth going, gently down-hill, and swung along at an easy trot. down the road they went, mile after mile, until they emerged from the lower end of the swift current valley, out into the rolling prairies, with the whole range behind them. then, as the road swung up over a knoll, mills paused and pointed north. "there's old chief," he said. everybody looked. about twelve miles to the northwest, thrust out eastward far from the divide and with the wall which rose out of the prairie growing steeper and steeper till the last two thousand feet were sheer precipice, stood a magnificent tower of a mountain, shining whitish in the sun as if it were composed of limestone. at the back, it seemed connected by a spine with the range behind, but to the prairie it presented an unbroken front, like some great gibraltar of a tower, with the prairie grass and forest beating like surf at its feet. all alone it seemed to stand, like a sentinel of the range behind, a lone outpost. "is _that_ what we've got to climb?" the three men exclaimed, in one breath. "well, we won't take you up the east wall," mills laughed. "oh, couldn't we get up it?" tom cried. mills looked at him, and grinned again. "about to-night you won't feel like climbing _anything_," he said. "remember, you're not saddle-broke, the way joe is." they now turned north, away from the motor road, ate some lunch under the shade of an aspen and willow thicket, amid the persian carpet of prairie wild flowers, and then all the afternoon pushed on toward the great limestone tower, with the whole pile of the rocky mountain chain beside them for company. late in the day they reached a rushing stream, which came down from a cañon just south of the big mountain. this was the north fork of kennedy creek, and they turned up it by a trail, the lowering cliffs of chief now rearing up almost over their heads, and went into the mouth of the valley, and up till the main tower of chief was east of them, and they were under the south wall of the spine which connected the peak with the main range behind. here they made camp, in a little meadow beside the stream, with pine woods all about, and while tom and the ranger pitched the tents, with robert crimmins giving enthusiastic help, joe built his fire pit and began to get supper. the two older men, who were pretty sore after the thirty mile ride, hobbled about snipping some boughs for their beds. it was a good supper joe gave them, however, and the camp was in as delightful a post as a man could ask, and around the big fire, when the food had all been eaten, the whole party sat or lay on the grass, in the fine democracy of the open trail, the assistant secretaries of state beside the boy scouts from southmead, and the jokes and stories went around. but mills "sounded taps," as he called his bedtime order, very early, as he planned a six o'clock getaway in the morning, and that meant getting up at half-past four. the next day they were to climb chief. the ranger looked long at the stars before he came into the tent he and the scouts were using. "boys, a good day to-morrow," he said, "but it looks like a storm after that." "well, let her rip, after to-morrow," tom answered. "to-morrow, though, i'm goin' up old chief, even if i have to climb with nothing but my hands, and i feel now's if i _would_ have to!" "poor old tenderfoot!" joe laughed. "gee, it isn't my foot," said tom, so comically that joe and the ranger roared with mirth, as they rolled up in their blankets. chapter xxi--the climb up the tower of chief mountain, the indian relic on the summit and an eagle's nest how mills managed to wake up just at the time he wanted to, without any alarm clock, the scouts never were able to fathom, but he always could. he was awake and shaking them at four-thirty the next day. joe was up on the instant, and putting on his outer clothes, but tom groaned when he tried to move, and fell back into his blankets with an "ouch!" "your sick friend strikes me as better than you are," mills taunted him. "why wouldn't he be? he's been weeks in the saddle now," tom retorted, stung into sitting up. "i'll be all right by to-morrow--you see if i'm not." "well, i'm sorry you're too lame to climb chief to-day," mills said, with a wink at joe. that brought tom out of his blankets entirely, and on to his feet. "too lame, your grandmother!" he cried. "i'd like to see you get my rope without me!" "oh, it's been climbed without a rope, many a time," mills laughed. tom was up now, and thoroughly awake, and began to see the joke. he grinned rather sheepishly, and went out of the tent with his towel. meanwhile, joe beat reveille on a frying-pan, and lit his fire. by six o'clock breakfast was eaten, the horses packed again, and the party on its way. they went up the trail but a short distance, and then turned sharp to the north, and began at once to climb the long spine which connects chief mountain with the main range to the west. it was a little over a mile to the summit of this spine, rising from , feet to , . a horse does not trot up such a grade, but neither does he have to climb like a goat. in an hour, they were at the summit, and could look at last not only eastward, along the ridge, to the limestone tower of chief which was their goal, but down the slope on the north side to the valley of the belly river, and across it to the eastern shoulders of cleveland, the highest mountain in the park, , feet. here, in the open, grassy ridges at timber-line, the horses were unsaddled and unpacked, so if they lay down to roll, they could do no damage, and the party, with tom's rope and the cameras, set out along the ridge due east toward the towering cliff of chief, which looked like a huge castle battlement, or watch-tower. it was not over a two-mile walk to the shale pile at the base of the summit precipice, by an easy grade, though the going was sometimes rough. the topographical map joe carried showed that they rose from , feet to over , , at the top of the shale pile, and as the mountain is , feet high, that left about a thousand feet of cliff for the final ascent. [illustration: chief mt.--the sentinel of the prairies] at the top of the shale they paused, while mills and tom consulted. this great limestone rock was not such a hard proposition as parts of the iceberg lake cliff, and after a careful survey of the ground, they decided the best way to handle six people on the rope was to send a leader up with the end, to anchor where he could find strong anchorage, and then let the rest use it as a rail, rather than fastening it around each person's waist. tom went in number one position, with the ranger as number two, and joe was stationed at the bottom, to brace and throw a loop around anybody who might, by chance, slip. in many places, mills played tom out nearly the whole length of the rope, where the incline was sufficiently off the perpendicular, and the rest had almost a hundred feet of rope rail to climb by. in only a few places was there real vertical climbing, and those as the summit was neared. before noon they were all over the last pitch, on the summit. robert crimmins ran to the outer edge of this summit at once, and looked out over the vast green prairie, stretching mile on endless mile to the east, like waves of the sea, and shouted. "father, come here!" he called. "say, this is just like riding on the bowsprit of a tremendous ship!" everybody hurried over, to feel the same sensation, all except joe. "i tell you what it feels like to me," he said. "it feels as if i was on the front edge of the earth crust when it rode up and over the other edge. this must be the very end of the overthrust." "that's so," mr. crimmins agreed. "i've been reading up on this geological formation. this cliff under us--it must be three thousand feet down to the shale slide--was the front edge of the overthrust. you can see that. the belly river has carved away one side, kennedy creek the other, but this old lump of limestone has resisted all the bombardments of frost and water, glacier and storm, and the weather has carved it into a watch-tower of the prairies, an outpost sentinel of the great divide." ["some speech!" tom whispered to joe.] but joe did not laugh. he felt exactly what mr. crimmins meant, and it was very thrilling. it seemed as if he could see exactly what happened myriads of years ago when the earth cracked, and one edge of the great crust was shoved forward on to the prairie, and as if he could see what had happened since, to carve the crust into peaks and valleys. mills, meanwhile, had been walking about. now he called to them, and they all went over where he stood, and saw him pointing to the bleached skull of a large animal on the ground. "what's that?" the men asked. "buffalo," he answered. "how on earth did it get up here?" said mr. crimmins. "there are only three things, without wings, which can climb this cliff, surely,--goats, mountain sheep, and men. you needn't try to tell me a buffalo could climb up here!" "shan't try," the ranger answered. "a blackfoot brought that up." "what for?" joe asked. "to use for a pillow while he was getting his medicine. you know, when an indian boy gets about the age of you scouts, he has to take a sweat bath (made by putting hot stones in a closed lodge and pouring water on 'em) to purify himself, and then he goes off to some wild, lonely place and just waits there, naked, without any food, till he has a vision. this vision tells him what his special 'medicine' is to be, which will bring him good luck. old yellow wolf told me we'd find the skull up here. he knew the brave that brought it up for a pillow. he said the young indian stayed four days on the summit before he got his 'medicine.'" "say, if i stayed up here four days, naked, i'd need some medicine when i got down!" young crimmins laughed. "let's take the skull for a souvenir." "oh, no!" joe cried, forgetting that he was only a cook and guide for the party. "that would be--be desecration! let it stay here, where the indian left it!" mr. crimmins looked at him sharply but kindly. "joe is right," he said. "let it stay here as a record of a race too fast vanishing. i like to think of that naked indian boy, all alone, climbing this great rock tower and for four whole days sitting up here far above the world, waiting for a vision from his gods. you wouldn't catch one of our american boys doing anything like that. yet we think we are vastly superior to the indians!" "but his vision, after all, probably came because he was dizzy for lack of food, and it was a superstition that it could furnish him a 'medicine' to bring good luck," mr. taylor said. "superstition or not," the other replied, "it represented the instinct to go out alone, and meditate on solemn things. didn't it, joe?" "yes, sir!" joe answered, his own heart full of enthusiasm for this picture of the lone, naked indian on top of the watch-tower of the prairies. but tom and robert crimmins, who had less imagination, had wandered away to an edge of the cliff, to toss stones over into the depths below, and suddenly the rest heard them shouting, and ran to the edge. one of the stones they had thrown over had landed on a ledge some seventy-five feet below, and scared off a golden eagle, which was now sailing away from the cliff face with tremendous beats of his huge wings, each beat taking him up, it seemed, fifty feet, till soon he was soaring in circles out over the prairie, and sweeping back, with wings at rest, far overhead, evidently alarmed but intent on finding out what had disturbed him. crawling to the edge, and looking over, the party could see a big nest on the ledge below, with white things in it, and beside it, like bones. "i'm going to have a photograph of that!" tom cried. "gee, i wish there were some little eagles in it!" "you might be sorry if there were," mills answered briefly, as tom fastened the rope under his arms. "i'm not even sure of the bird now the young are out. here, take my revolver, and if it comes at you, let him have it." tom put his camera in one pocket, the automatic in the other, and the men above lowered him over the edge, where he swung almost free, and had to kick the cliffside with his feet to keep himself from spinning and keep his face outward. the eagle still circled above, now and then swooping nearer till they could hear the wing beats, but it was evidently afraid to attack. tom finally reached the ledge, landing, in fact, with both feet in the nest. it was a huge affair of sticks, lined with dry prairie grass, almost as high as his shoulders, and four feet across. he climbed out, watching the eagle with one eye, and took a couple of snapshots of it, then picked up some of the bones and examined them, grasped the rope just above his face, to ease the strain under his arms, and gave the signal to those above. as he began to rise from the nest, the eagle swooped ever nearer, now lower than the men on the summit, so they could see its vast wing spread, its brown back and rusty colored head and neck. tom let go of the rope with his hands, and got the pistol out of his pocket. to tell the truth, he was beginning to get uncomfortable. as the eagle swooped within fifty feet of him, and he could see its glinting eyes, he lifted the gun and fired. naturally, you cannot shoot a rapidly moving object with a pistol, while you yourself are dangling and spinning on the end of a rope, with any great precision of aim. he did not hit the bird, but he frightened it. with an incredibly quick change of tack, it tilted up on one wing, soared outward and upward, two hundred feet overhead, and far out from the cliff. the men hauled tom back over the edge. "well, i got my picture!" tom exclaimed. "say, but that's a whale of a nest! and side of it is a little skeleton, either of a kid or a baby lamb, and lots of small bones like rabbits and birds, and a fresh, half eaten ground squirrel. that's what the old eagle was eating when we disturbed him, i guess. gee, it's a regular bone yard down there. don't smell very good, either. i don't think i care for eagles much." "i didn't care for that one, when he was coming at you!" joe said, his face still white. "i didn't myself," tom admitted. "wish i'd had the nerve to photograph the old birdie instead of shooting at him." "they don't like to have their pictures taken," said mills, with a short laugh. after this excitement, the descent of the mountain began. half-way down, joe left the rope, at a wide ledge, and went some distance along it, to one side, to get a photograph of the whole party on the cliffside. after he had snapped it, he kept on along the ledge a way, just to see where it went to. after a hundred feet, it turned a sharp corner, and as joe rounded this turn, he suddenly was face to face with a big old ram! he was quite as astonished as the sheep, but he instinctively pointed his camera and snapped the bulb, just as the ram lowered its head as if to butt. joe flattened himself against the wall, not wishing to be knocked off fifty feet to the slope below. but the sheep decided not to butt. instead, he turned tail, dashed a few feet back on the ledge, and went over head first. joe ran to the spot in time to see him land on a little shelf twenty feet lower down, bounce off that to a ledge still lower, and then trot around an easy slope and disappear from sight. not having had time to roll his film, he couldn't take another picture. but he returned to the party in triumph. tom might have a picture of an eagle's nest, but now he had one of a live bighorn! the fact that his camera was focused for a hundred feet, as he had just taken the party on the rope when he met the sheep, and so his close-up of the old ram would be somewhat blurry, did not occur to him till long after, when the film was developed. after a quick lunch, mainly of charlie chaplin sandwiches, the horses were packed again, and they descended the north slope of the ridge, by an easy grade, getting rapidly into timber, and after five miles or so reached the valley of the belly river, turned up that, and presently made camp at the mouth of the glenns lakes, two long, narrow, green lakes reaching in toward the divide, with the towering walls of cleveland, which they had seen clearly from chief, rising right out of these lakes, but now, they saw to their sorrow, going up into clouds. "i thought so," mills said. "bad weather. it don't look to me as if we could tackle cleveland to-morrow. i wanted to try him from this side, too--go up on that long shoulder that comes down south, and then east, toward us. we could get up on that and make a base camp. well, we'll camp here to-night, and if he's still under to-morrow, we can go over ahern pass to flat top, and then try him from the west side. that's the side they usually go up, anyhow." so they pitched their tents in a meadow by the belly river, with the clouds gradually shredding out overhead till they finally wrapped the tower of chief, and hid it from sight, and the cold grew uncomfortable, so that everybody save joe set about chopping a big supply of wood. night came early under the cloud mantle, and with no glimpse of the stars, or the tops of those great walls towering up overhead, it was a lonely spot. as joe was dropping to sleep he heard a coyote barking somewhere out near the horses, a weird, sad sound, like the coughing laugh of an idiot. he shivered at the sound still more, and tried to roll his blanket tighter. "but you've got to get used to it, old scout, if you are going to be a forest ranger," he told himself. certainly it did not trouble mills, who was already sound asleep. chapter xxii--a blizzard on flat top--the camp is christened "valley forge" the next day the mountains were still under. it wasn't raining, but the clouds were a dark, gun metal color, and seemed to rest like heavy smoke on the rocks overhead. "nothing doing," said mills. "they may be over for two days yet, and it will surely rain. we'll keep the trail over ahern pass, and make flat top to-day. all out!" and it was a strange day that followed. the trail was none too good, with much fallen timber to drive the packhorses around for the first two or three miles, and it very soon got up into a wild, desolate, narrow cañon under the southern wall of mount merritt, with the water of lake elizabeth beside the path, looking in this gray light under the lowering clouds a sort of dead, chalky green. beyond lake elizabeth the cañon grew steeper and narrower, the cliffs of mount merritt went sheer up into the clouds, and on the other side of the valley rose the equally steep walls that were the reverse side of the iceberg lake cliffs tom had scaled. but the tops both of merritt and these cliffs were hidden in cloud, that swirled and raised and lowered as the upper wind currents hit it. when they reached lake helen, at the head of the cañon, where the trail began to switchback up the wall of the divide, they could see, just under the clouds, poised, it seemed, almost over their heads, no less than four glaciers, one of them apparently hanging on a shelf and ready to fall off at any moment. in fact, a huge cake as big as a house did fall off, and crashed down with a great roar to the rocks below, even as they watched. "the mountain gnomes are bombarding us!" mr. crimmins laughed. they went steadily and steeply up, on the switchbacks, and reached the top of the divide at noon. but half an hour before they got to the divide they were in the clouds, in a thick, damp, chilling fog, that was not rain and yet covered their clothes with drops of moisture, made their hands wet and cold, and of course obscured every vestige of a view. "well," said the ranger, "here we are on the backbone of the world. over there is heaven's peak. just to the left, only a mile away, tom, is the top of the iceberg lake head wall. if it was clear, you could take joe over and show him where you climbed. but i guess as it is we'll get down as fast as we can, and not even wait for lunch." "anything to get out of this," the men said, blowing on their wet, numb fingers. so they dropped down on the west side of the divide, getting out of the cloud below timber-line, and stopped while joe made hot coffee. then they pushed on down still farther, picked up a better trail in the deep woods in a cañon beside a stream--mineral creek cañon; and turning sharp north, began slowly and gradually to climb again. it was the kind of a day when nobody does much talking, and even the horses seemed to plug dejectedly along. after two or three miles, however, they began to go up more rapidly, out of deep timber, into a region of meadows and low balsams. joe was the first to smell the balsams, and sniffed eagerly. "i'm going to have a real bed to-night," he called to mills, "if you don't look. i know it's against the rules to cut bough beds in the park." "i won't look, if you won't tell," mills called back. "we have to make that rule to protect the trees, but way up here in the wilds uncle sam won't miss a few twigs, i guess." they were now nearly under the clouds again. to their right a steep débris pile rose, and ended in a jagged cliff wall, which disappeared in the vapor. to the left was a wooded slope, and ahead the trail climbed sharply to a ridge which could barely be seen under the clouds. "we're almost at the north end of flat top mountain," the ranger said. "that cliff to the right is the divide, and dead ahead that ridge you see is the divide turning sharp left and running across to the western range. from here on into canada the western range is the watershed. we could climb to the top of that ridge--only half a mile, and camp on the divide, if you want to." "and spend the night in the cloud? excuse me!" mr. crimmins said. "this is bad enough." "all right--all off," the ranger answered. he called to joe and tom, and the three of them pitched the two tents in a sheltered spot, in the centre of a grove of balsams about twenty feet tall. "and peg 'em down hard," he said. "anything may come out of those clouds to-night. now, tom, get a good big supply of wood, and stack it up dry, under a pack cover, while i turn out the horses." while joe was getting supper, the three tourists gathered balsam boughs for beds, following mills' orders to take only a few twigs from any one tree. "it's against the rules," he said, "but we may need to sleep as warm as we can to-night." "i believe you," robert crimmins replied, blowing on his numb fingers. tom, meanwhile, combed the region all around for dead wood. the supply was none too large, for they were perilously close to timber-line; and under the cloud darkness was coming on early, to make the job harder. but he finally found a large dead tree, down in a sheltered hollow by the stream, and got four or five good logs out of that, and a lot of smaller stuff. the two tents were pitched facing each other, with a camp-fire and joe's fire pit between, and with the surrounding evergreens for a windbreak and the tent flaps open to catch the heat, they were pretty comfortable that evening, though every one wore his sweater, and joe and tom, who had brought their mackinaws, were glad enough to put them on, too. nobody undressed that night at all, except to take off his boots and put on an extra pair of socks instead. the wind was rising steadily, the tents shook, the evergreens over them sighed and whistled, and joe lay awake for the first time since he had been in the park, with a curious feeling that something was going to happen. he got to sleep at last, but he woke up presently--it seemed to him that he woke up immediately--and peering through the tent flap saw no sign of a fire. at least, he thought, the embers ought still to be glowing. he slipped out of his blankets as softly as he could, climbed over mills, who was sleeping nearest the entrance, and started to unbuckle the flap. as he did so, a gust of wind hit the tent, half lifting it off its pole, and blew the flap wildly in. as it blew in, something soft and cold and stinging hit joe's face. snow! he stuck out his head for an instant, and all he could see was a kind of swirling, waving, hissing white darkness. it was bitter cold, too, and the fire was out. dimly he could see the outline of the other tent, and the roof of it was white with drift. no use trying to build up the fire in that! he fought the wind to close the flap again. but the swirl of the snow in his face had waked the ranger. "what's the matter?" he said. "a blizzard," joe replied, as another gust of wind strained the canvas and rattled the guy ropes. "i thought something would come out of this," said mills. "hang it, we ought to have camped lower down. i'd rather be drowned than frozen." tom woke up now, and they lighted the camp lantern, to peep out into the night. a voice, half drowned in the roar of the gale, came across from the other tent. "say," it called, "what had we better do?" "keep in your blankets and hang onto your tent!" mills shouted back. "i wonder if he thinks we can call a taxi and drive to a hotel!" he added in a normal tone, that couldn't have been heard two feet beyond the tent flap. nobody slept any more in either tent that night. they were too cold, and too busy bailing out snow that drifted under the tent walls, or trying to peg down the walls or stop up the gaps with the balsam beds. finally, toward morning, there came a perfect hurricane of wind. the tent the scouts were in swayed, tugged, seemed about to leave its moorings, and in the midst of the gust the occupants heard a snapping sound outside, and a smothered yell. mills sprang out into the storm, and a moment later came back with robert and the two men, all wrapped in their blankets, and powdered white by the brief crossing. their tent pole had snapped, and the tent had come down on top of them! there was no chance of getting it up again then, so the six people all huddled in the one tent, and waited for daylight. "anyhow, the more we are, the warmer we can keep," said robert, who was rather enjoying the adventure. "go on, joe, keep your knee in my back, i like it! it's as good as a hot water bottle." the storm began to abate presently, and as the light brightened outside, mills, peering out, reported that the snow had stopped falling. with the diminution of the wind, too, the cold lessened, and the noise, and nearly everybody, in spite of the cramped quarters, fell into a troubled, rather restless sleep. what woke joe up was the bright daylight hitting him in the eye through a crack in the tent flap. he extricated himself from between robert and mr. taylor, and pushed his way out. it was a transformed, a wonderful, a beautiful world he looked on! evidently the sun was up over the prairie, for far down mineral creek cañon he could see the top of cannon mountain, snow covered, pink and rosy with the light, and heaven's peak, a little nearer, was like a great pyramid of gleaming rose crystal. on the ground about him, half covering his fire pit, was almost a foot of snow, which hung on the balsams, was drifted over the fallen tent, covered the rocks, and through which, here and there, rose the stems of wild flowers, their blossoms nodding above the white carpet! he gave a shout. "don't miss this!" he cried. "gee, it's worth a lost night's sleep, and then some!" sleepy, stiff forms emerged from the tent behind him, and gazed at the sunrise over a world that was white with winter, and yet was summer. everybody exclaimed with delight--except the ranger. "this will make cleveland hopeless," was all he said, as he began to pull the fallen tent up out of its drift. "well, i'm going to name this old camp valley forge," robert crimmins laughed, as he stamped his feet and blew on his fingers, before picking a wild flower for his buttonhole! chapter xxiii--up to chaney glacier and the discovery of a three thousand foot precipice it was a hard job digging the camp out of the snow, and only the fact that tom had covered the wood and weighted down the canvas to hold it on gave them dry fuel to cook with. they had no snow shovels, using frying-pans and dippers to clear away the drifts from the fire pit and their packs. "valley forge is the right name," mr. crimmins laughed as he stamped his feet and blew on his fingers, as robert had done. but the sun was now up, the air was rapidly warming, and while joe got the breakfast, mills and tom waded out through the snow in search of the horses. they had to go a long way, too, for the wise beasts had simply wandered down the trail into the woods, and kept on descending until they had got below the snow line into rain, where the grass was not covered and they could feed. it was almost two hours later that the ranger and tom came driving them back, cross, hungry, and with boots soaked by the snow and clothes soaked by the wet bushes. so they got a late start that morning. "we'll go up the little kootenai cañon," said mills, "as far as the old cabin of death-on-the-trail reynolds, and see how the land lies for a try at the west wall of cleveland the next day. if it isn't promising, we can make an afternoon trip up to waterton lake, and then come back the next day. if it does look like a try at the big mountain, we can push up the side a way, and make a base camp." so they mounted, and pushed up through the soft, rapidly melting snow to the top of the ridge where the divide crosses from the eastern to the western range, and after a short trip through the snow-filled, open meadows of flat top, with the little pines and balsams looking like christmas cards, they began to drop down a more than two-thousand foot slope into the cañon of the little kootenai river, which flows due north, with cleveland on the right, and kootenai and citadel peaks on the left. especially citadel peak was superb in its snow mantle, a great, glistening white fortress towering thousands of feet up from the cañon. they reached the old cabin of death-on-the-trail reynolds at one o'clock, and found there the ranger for that district. "how about cleveland?" mills asked. "getting sort of tired of life?" the other ranger inquired. "that's what i thought," mills replied. "any chance to-morrow?" "not much. she'll melt on the lower slopes to-day, but the peak'll not begin cataracting snowslides till to-morrow morning, about ten a.m. day after you might make it." "no use--we can't wait that long," said mr. crimmins. "i'm sorry, but even the state department can't control nature." so, after lunch in the cabin, they left the packhorses behind, and free to travel at a good gait, trotted down the trail to waterton lake, a long, narrow, beautiful sheet of green water which stretched away north ten miles, into canada, and being warm with the ride the two scouts and robert had a swim--or, at least, they went into the water. they came out before they had swum far, their bodies stung red as boiled lobsters by the cold. "this park reminds me of the poem," robert said, "'water, water everywhere, but not a place to swim.'" back at the ranger's cabin, they had a big, leisurely supper, with the ranger as their guest, and after supper he told them tales of death-on-the-trail reynolds, an old mining prospector, who had first built the cabin, and when the park became national property was made a ranger, and true to his name died in the saddle on one of the trails he had followed so long. this old trail from waterton lake south over flat top and down mineral creek to mcdonald creek, and so to lake mcdonald, was a regular smuggler's route in the old days, the ranger said, and many a horse had been driven down it in the dark, before the american rangers on one end and the canadian northwestern mounted police on the other put a stop to that sort of thing. that night they slept in the cabin, and early the next day went back in their tracks--the first time they had repeated a trail--reaching "valley forge" camp at noon. the snow was about all melted here now, and when mills pointed up the cliffs to the east, and said chaney glacier lay just on the other side, it was voted to camp here once more, and spend the afternoon on the glacier, and the peak above. "i've never been up that peak," mills said, "but i have a hunch there'd be some view up there." lunch was eaten quickly, tom got out his rope, and they started. it was an easy climb, and could have been made without the rope, probably, though the rope was a great help in making speed. after a long grade up a shale slide, and across a snow-field, they reached the base of a rough, jagged cliff, and by picking out upward slanting ledges on this cliff, tom led the way rapidly upward, mills keeping the rear of the rope anchored, while tom anchored the upper end, thus making a rope railing on the outer edge of each ledge. in less than an hour they reached the spine of the divide, at a col between two higher peaks. this spine was a knife blade, not over ten feet wide, and directly on the east side, with its upper edge so close you could step off on to it, lay chaney glacier, a vast field of snow now, with little ice showing, a mile in extent, and sloping downward till the lower end disappeared over the rim of a precipice. out beyond this precipice, they saw the belly river cañon, looking straight down it, over the green waters of glenns lakes, to the spot where they had camped, and beyond that to the green ocean of the prairies. from here, too, they got a superb view of cleveland, rearing up, still snow covered, a great pyramid of white. "want to go out on the glacier?" the ranger asked joe. "oh, i don't mind," joe laughed. "the rope's strong." every one did want to go out on the glacier, so mills roped them all, keeping last place himself, and they ventured out over the apparently unbroken field of snow. but this snow was light and rapidly melting, and they had not gone far before tom, in the lead, with a sounding staff he had cut before they left camp, detected a frail snow bridge and sent it crumbling down into the crevasse, disclosing the green ice walls. one look down this well into the ice decided the party not to venture far over the treacherous field, and they returned to the firm rocks of the divide, and climbed on up another eight hundred feet to the top of the peak to the south. the summit of this peak was only about the size of a big table, and to the east it fell away absolutely sheer for three thousand feet to a tiny lake far below, out of which, on the opposite side, shot up the cliff wall of merritt. the wind was strong up here, and the peak so small that all six lay on their stomachs to peer over the precipice. "say, that's a hole in the earth!" mr. crimmins exclaimed. [illustration: mt. cleveland and glenns lakes] robert spit over the edge. "i never spit three thousand feet before," he said. "want to climb up that cliff with your rope, tom?" tom shook his head. "it couldn't be done, not even by a goat," he said, wisely. "as a matter of fact, you're right," mills laughed. "i never even knew that cliff was here, either. this park hasn't been more'n half explored yet." from almost the very top of this peak, a long, very steep shale slope led to the "valley forge" meadow, and down this they descended, by the aid of the rope, sending showers of stones ahead, so that the leader was in constant danger, and wearing down the spikes and soles of their boots rapidly. they camped that night in the old spot, using their former fire pit, but there was no storm, and the next day they had an uneventful passage back down mineral creek, up to swift current by the trail joe had first climbed in the rain, and so on back to many glacier--a long trip of twenty-four miles, but to joe, who by this was as hard as nails, not very tiresome. at many glacier the boys bid the two men and robert good-bye, and as darkness was gathering, once more cooked their supper in camp kent, which by now was like home to them. "well," said tom, "that was some trip, old wifey--let's see, we were six days out, and we didn't meet a soul after we left the road till we got back to granite park, except the ranger up under cleveland. the real wilderness stuff, eh?" "you bet!" said joe. "and eighteen dollars more for me and ma." "you're getting terribly practical," tom laughed. "i'm getting self-supporting," joe replied. "no more grafting off you." "you're getting _well_," tom cried. "that's the real thing. gee, you're harder'n i am now! you never seem to get tired." "bet i can hit the little old cot, though," joe laughed, as he began to make up the beds in the tent. chapter xxiv--the boys prepare for winter in the park, and learn why the timber-line trees are only three feet tall it was now september, and already a rain in the valleys meant fresh snow on the peaks and high passes. the hotel was still full, however, and tom was busy at the tepees, while joe had steady work as a camp cook, once on a fishing trip, when, in three days, he cooked so many trout he said he should be ashamed ever to look a fish in the face again, and sick if he ate one. "i didn't think it was possible to get fed up on trout," he declared. "wait till next april, and you'll be out whipping up roaring brook, all right, all right," tom laughed. of course school had begun back in southmead, but tom did not feel like quitting his job before the season was over, and, besides, after long talks together, and consultations with the ranger, and letters home to their parents and mr. rogers, the boys had decided to stay on with mills, in his cabin (paying for their own food, of course, which would be a very small item), until christmas. it would mean that they'd lose the whole school term instead of a month, but, in return, joe would have that much more outdoor life, they could do a lot of reading evenings, and, above all, they could learn from mills some of the duties of a forest ranger in winter, and learn how to handle themselves in the mountains and big woods after all trails were closed, all tourists departed, and the park had gone back to its primitive wildness. mr. rogers agreed with them, and evidently persuaded their parents. "after all," he wrote, "you'll really be taking a term in practical field forestry, and joe can never hope to get a position as a forester if he hasn't fully recovered his health. the government won't take a sick man on the job. learn all you can, especially how to take care of yourselves." so the boys sent home for their very warmest winter clothes, mittens, pull down hats, ski boots and skis and some school books and stories to read evenings. mills said he could get them real indian snow-shoes in the park, and elk skin sleeping-bags. he was even more delighted at the prospect of having them than they were at staying. it meant he would have company till nearly christmas, and the scouts knew how lonely he usually was in the winter, because that was one thing he had never talked about. the tepee camp closed about mid-september, when it got too cold for many hikers to come over the high passes, and the next two weeks tom worked as a regular guide, with a license badge from the park superintendent. joe also had a couple of jobs with camping parties, but he had had his badge from the start. all the hotels and chalets closed on october first, and then the boys moved into the ranger's cabin. they were glad to move, too. already winter had begun to come, up on the divide. the snow that fell did not melt, and the line of it was creeping down the bare, rocky slopes of gould. the nights were cold, and water froze in a kettle, and ice formed on the edge of the lake on a still night. before the last bus had departed, all three made a trip out to glacier park station and laid in supplies for the winter. "the next trip we make may be on snow-shoes," the ranger said. "that's fifty miles afoot, packing your sleeping-bag on your back." the horses presently were sent down to the prairie to winter, and joe got some of the hens from the hotel, which otherwise would have been killed or taken away, and installed them in the stable. "we'll have fresh eggs for a while, anyhow," he declared. "what you going to feed 'em with?" the ranger asked. "i got two barrels of feed," said joe, "and our table scraps. when the feed gives out, we'll live on fricasseed chicken. anyhow, i'll keep one good one alive till thanksgiving, and we'll have some fresh meat that day." in the weeks that followed, tom and joe lived a hardy, active life afoot, sometimes going with the ranger up the high trails to inspect where the early snows first slid, so that he could get a line on the spots in which the most danger to the trails lay. "my idea is," he said, "that in some places where we have trouble, making us a lot of work in the spring, the government could plant arctic willow or limber pines, to hold the snow from sliding, and save a lot of money. i'm going to study snowslides this winter, and make a report." sometimes, too, the scouts went hunting with him, not for sheep or goats or deer, of course, but for the animals which prey on the sheep, goats, deer, etc. the worst pest, perhaps, is the coyote, which is a sort of cowardly fox-wolf, and as the snow gradually pushed down the slopes and drove many animals with it, the coyotes grew more numerous around the cabin, so the boys could hear them barking at night. now all the tourists were gone, mills gave each boy a gun, making them his assistants, and especially on moonlight nights, when they heard the coyotes barking, they would go out where some bait had been placed and shoot two or three. "every one you bag saves the life of a dozen ptarmigan hens, and probably a lot of lambs and fawns," said mills. it wasn't long before the side of the barn was covered with coyote skins. "but what you really want is a lion's skin," said mills. "what _i_ want is a silver tip skin," said tom. "i want a coat like yours." "nothing doing," mills laughed. "mr. silver tip is protected now." "well, then, bring on your lion!" spider replied. "we'll get one yet," mills answered. until the snow got well down toward the valleys, tom and joe used to go off for a day at a time, also, with the rope, climbing up cliffs for practice and still oftener, with their cameras, seeking out the upland slopes where the wind kept the snow blown off, and lying in wait for sheep, to photograph them. the sheep, they found, came to such places to feed. but it was cold work waiting, so they finally hit on the idea of packing up their sleeping-bags on their backs, and lying in them, under the shelter of some rock or timber-line pine. in this way, they got several photographs at close range. they got something else, too; they got a real idea of why the trees at timber-line are only a few feet high. it was mid-november when they had gone up a shoulder of mount wilbur, early in the morning, to a bare upland pasture where they believed that sheep would come to feed. the sun was shining when they left, and there was no snow to speak of down in the valley. but they took snow-shoes, to keep their feet dry up above, and their sleeping-bags. before they reached the pasture, however, which was at the extreme upper edge of timber-line, the sun was overcast, and the wind was rising to a gale. they kept on, in spite of it, and picking out the lee side of a rock, where a tree grew about three feet tall, till it got above the rock and then turned at a right angle and trailed out parallel to the ground, they got into their bags to wait. no sheep came that morning, but as the wind rose and shrieked and howled, and snow began to fall, they were too interested to go back down. if they raised their faces the least bit above this rock, smash! came the gale to hit them, and the snow particles cut like ice, while in the wind they felt little stinging particles of rock dust that actually hurt when they hit you. "i don't blame this tree for not growing any higher!" joe exclaimed. "it's like us--just cuddles down behind the rock." "sure," said tom. "if a branch does grow up over in summer, a wind like this the next winter just cuts it off like pruning shears." the scouts were now beginning to get covered with snow, and in spite of the fascination of lying up here with the storm howling over them and feeling why it is the trees at timber-line grow only a few feet, or even in some cases a few inches, tall in a hundred years, they realized it was time to be getting down. the instant they stood up, and got the full force of the gale, they were almost knocked off their feet. the snow was coming fast now, and it was all they could do to keep their footing over the treacherous rocks. they had no rope, as they had not supposed they would need it, but when joe was suddenly bowled over, and went nearly fifty feet down a long drift before he could dig in his heels and stop, it began to look grave. as soon as they got off the partially bare shoulder, into a trifle less windy reach, they put on their snow-shoes, and fought along toward the swift current trail, almost blindly in a brief time, for the snow was increasing till it shrouded them like a cloud. "say, i'm getting nervous!" joe cried. "we ought to be at that trail by now." "shut up," tom said. "if you get a funk, it lets down your vitality, and then you'll get cold and freeze your ears or feet or something. we can't miss it; we got the pitch of the slope to go by." "that's so," joe answered. and as he realized that the slope would guide them, so they couldn't go in a circle, he suddenly felt warmer. he realized how important it is to keep your head. once on the swift current trail, which, though snow covered, showed plainly, they descended rapidly on their snow-shoes, which gripped well. there was not yet snow enough here to start a slide, but they weren't sure there might not be, and they kept an anxious eye above them all the way down. once in the woods at the bottom, they hurried on to the cabin, not even stopping to make tea. "say, you poor boobs," mills exclaimed, "i was just coming after you. why don't you pick a wild, windy, stormy day to go climbing wilbur? what are you trying to do, commit suicide?" "no," said tom, "to see why the timber-line trees are so dwarfed." "yes, and we found out," joe added. chapter xxv--protecting the deer yards--the scouts wait in the moonlight and bag a mountain lion that storm lasted two days, and it brought the snow to the valley, laid at least sixteen inches of it on the level in the woods, and swept it across lake mcdermott against the hotel, till the drift reached the top of the first story. as soon as it stopped, the scouts and mills were out on their snow-shoes, tracking through the woods. "i want to find out where the deer yards are going to be this winter," the ranger said. "we'll want to know, so we can keep an eye on them, for lions or wolves, and protect the herds if we can." "what's a deer yard?" the boys asked. "big game, especially in winter, don't travel very much," the ranger answered. "they pick out some place where the feeding is good, and learn to know it well, not only where to get food, but where to turn quick and hide from enemies. when winter and deep snow come, they begin packing down the snow with their hoofs in a sort of yard--moose, deer, and sometimes even sheep do this--and as the snow grows deeper, their packing raises them higher and higher up, so they can feed on taller and taller bushes, and even finally get up to the limbs of trees." mills decided that the protected southwestern slopes of the mountain along which the trail winds to iceberg lake was a likely field, so the party split up, and each one went his own way through the woods and across the open parks, looking for tracks, and following any that he discovered. they were to meet at one o'clock on the shore of the lake. joe was soon out of sight and sound of the others, and as he was lowest down, close to the brook at the bottom of the cañon, he was also in the thickest woods, where the fir-trees, covered with snow like christmas cards, shook their "frosty pepper" into his nose as he pushed through. the brook was partially frozen, and he often found it easiest to walk on the snowy edge. presently he came on deer tracks leading into the open water, and not emerging. the deer had walked up-stream, in the water, evidently--several of them, and recently. he hurried on, beside the brook, and suddenly, rounding a little cover of pines, came full on a herd of five, walking in the water. he had not heard them, because of the gurgle of the brook, nor they him. he stopped dead in his tracks and watched them a second, before they got his scent, or in some other way detected him, and turned to look. he did not quite know what to do, but the deer quickly decided. they stepped out of the brook and into the woods, as if to let him pass. he went on, and looked back. the deer had walked into the brook again, and were slowly coming on, browsing on overhanging shrubs as they came. so joe moved some distance from the bank, and then followed them. after half a mile, they left the stream and entered a thick, small wood where, just outside, was long, dried grass under the snow. he saw that they had been here before, pawing away the snow to eat this hay. he followed into the wood, stampeding them out on the farther side, and found already the signs that they had begun to stamp down paths through their "yard." walking around the grove, he looked for tracks of coyotes or lions, but there was nothing but the track of a snow-shoe rabbit. the deer, so far, were safe. indeed, they even now stood about three hundred yards away, watching him with alert curiosity, their heads raised, a pretty picture over the white snow. he carefully took note of the spot, and hurried on to report. tom and the ranger reached the lake about the time he did. the ranger had found a yard, also, and tom had found a mink track, and seen a snow-shoe rabbit, in his white winter dress. they built a fire on the snow, beside the white snow-field which was the lake (the water was now frozen solid), and as they made their tea, they watched a herd of goats low down on the cliff that tom had climbed, evidently quite content up there, on the ledges too steep for snow to cling, and finding something to eat. "it must be dry picking," tom declared. "why, there was little enough in summer." "and no tin cans," joe laughed. "you might have left 'em a few tin cans, tom, when you climbed the wall." "never thought of it," tom answered, "and now it's too slippery." from then on it became the scouts' almost daily task--or, rather, pleasure--to visit the deer yards to see how the herds were getting on. there were five deer in one yard, and eleven in the other, and before long they got so used to the boys that if they happened to be "at home," as joe put it, they would hardly go a hundred yards away while the scouts inspected their methods of feeding, looked for enemy tracks, and sometimes left bundles of hay on the tramped snow--hay which joe had discovered he could dig out in a sheltered spot near the chalets. it wasn't much, but it served to make the deer tamer. often, now, the scouts came on their skis, for two more storms had put three feet of snow on the ground, and it elevated them above the underbrush. the run home was thrilling, with long, fast slides down open parks and hard, telemark stems at the bottom to keep from crashing into trees or rocks. but they couldn't get the ranger on skis. "no, sir!" he said. "you boys know how, and can keep from breaking your necks. but i'm too old to learn." it was the day after thanksgiving, when joe, true to his word, had killed a hen and cooked the nearest thing he could to a real new england thanksgiving dinner, that he and tom, visiting the first of their yards early in the morning, came upon a tragedy. there were no deer in sight as they approached, and on entering the packed path under the trees they heard no sounds. pushing on, they came suddenly upon all five beautiful creatures, lying dead on the snow! there was blood on the snow, too, and one or two bodies had been somewhat eaten. but three of them had merely been killed wantonly, and not eaten at all. the boys were furious. they cocked their rifles, and began a rapid, angry search for tracks. yes--there they were--big, catlike paw tracks! the lion had crouched in the evergreens, sneaked up in the night when the herd were huddled close for mutual warmth, and laid them all low! they circled the grove till they found the tracks leading away, and followed them as fast as they could. but, being on skis, they were soon baffled, as the lion had made at once for the steep, rocky cliffs. so they rushed to the other yard. here the herd had not been disturbed. they were all browsing on a new path they had packed among some willows. "come," joe cried. "back to see mills and find out what to do! the old lion may get the other herd to-night." that night there was a moon, and the ranger and the boys, clad in all their thickest clothes, with four pairs of woollen socks in their big, easy moccasins, with sweaters, fur coats, fleece-lined mittens and bearskin helmets, advanced on snow-shoes up the valley. "the lion may come back to the carcases, or wolves may scent 'em and come," mills said, "or he may attack the other herd. then, again, he may do nothing, and we'll have to watch every night for a week. you two take the dead herd, and i'll watch the other. approach it up wind--don't get on the windward side at all, and if you can find a good rest in a tree, get up in that, with a clear view of the opening. let the lion get in close before you fire, and let him have it in the heart and head. there ought to be light enough to-night. better have your guns in rest, pointed at the carcases, so you won't have to make any noise lifting 'em." the ranger and the scouts now separated, and joe and tom, making a wide circle to get sharp to leeward of the yard, moved silently over the deep snow, in the cold, clear, almost arctic moonlight, with the great peaks of the divide rising up like silvery ghosts far overhead. there was no noise in all the world, and no living thing except themselves, except once when a startled snow-shoe rabbit leaped across an opening, white as the snow he was half wallowing in. "say, this is spooky!" joe whispered. "you bet," tom whispered back. "the little old electric lights in southmead main street are some way off!" they drew near the wood where the yard was, and crept stealthily into the dark shadows of the pines. the dead deer lay in a tiny opening, five black objects on the moonlit snow. the boys, still keeping down wind, each picked out a tree, and with their rifles carefully locked, climbed up through the scratching, snowy branches till they could work into some kind of a seat, and get their guns pointed out, with an opening along the barrel to sight. "say, i hope the old lion don't take too long," tom whispered. "my seat's about two inches wide, and sharp on top." "gosh, i'd sit on a needle all night to save those other deer," joe answered. "but don't talk. he may be coming any minute." in cold and silence, they waited. there wasn't a sound, except now and then a muffled groan or creak of a tree limb, as one or the other of the boys had to shift his position. it grew later and later. joe's eyes ached with watching the five black objects on the snow, and the patch of white moonlight around them. they ached, and would close. he was bitterly cold, too. he did not know whether he would be able to pull the trigger if the lion came, or pry his lids wide enough apart to see the sights. every time he tried to sight the gun now, it was just a blur of shining blackness. and he knew tom must be feeling the same way. mills certainly had not fired at anything--they could have heard a rifle shot for ten miles in that deadly still arctic hush. then, so suddenly it almost made him fall off his branch, something dark and long and lean came sneaking into the patch of moonlight. it was the lion, its paws sinking down, its body crouched over them, till it seemed to creep like a snake. in this ghostly light, it looked about ten feet long, and joe suddenly felt hot blood go through his half-frozen veins. the lion gave a low, angry snarl, and stopped dead about three feet from the body of a deer, raising its head a little. evidently it had heard joe or tom moving his rifle barrel to sight. but he had no time to retreat. almost as one shot, the two guns blazed, with two flashes of red out of the evergreens, and a report that seemed to shatter the cold night silence. the dark form of the lion gave a leap into the air, and landed kicking in the snow. at the same instant two figures literally fell out of the trees, and rushed toward it, going in up to their waists, for neither waited to put on his snow-shoes again. tom was the first near it. "look out!" joe yelled. "he's not dead! he may come at you!" but tom had his gun up, and at pointblank range, with his sights in full moonlight, he deliberately took aim, and fired again, at the lion's heart. the body gave a last kick, and fell on its side, stone dead, its blood slowly running out on the snow. "_he'll_ never kill any more deer!" tom cried. they turned the lion over, and examined it. one bullet had hit him in the front leg, one in the jaw, shattering it, and entering its throat. but which shot was whose, nobody could say. "i guess it was yours that got his head," tom declared, "'cause i was so sleepy i couldn't see to sight." "my hands were so cold, i almost couldn't pull the trigger, so it must have been yours," joe answered. "after you, my dear alphonse," tom laughed. "anyhow, we both hit him, and that's some shooting at a hundred feet, in the middle of the night, even if it is moonlight. we better get our snow-shoes on, and drag him home. wonder if mr. mills will come, or stick it out at the other yard?" "i bet he comes," said joe. "he must have heard us fire." they made an improvised sledge of a big, broken pine bough, to keep the body up on top of the snow, and were tying it on to this with their handkerchiefs knotted around the feet, when they heard a far call. "he's coming!" said joe, and making his hands into a trumpet, he answered the call. they had the body out of the yard, and were crossing an open park with it, tugging hard, when the ranger's halloo sounded much nearer, and shortly after he appeared in the moonlight, coming fast. "you got him, eh?" he said. "that's good work. i heard your two shots, and then one more. that was to finish him at close range, i bet." "you win," said the boys. "gee, but he's heavy to drag." "that's a bum sled," the ranger laughed. "either of you got your axe on?" "no, we haven't," the boys said. "i'll find a fallen pole, then. drag him along to the next stand." the ranger went ahead, and found a small fallen tree from which he broke the dead branches and made a pole. slipping this between the lion's paws (which were knotted together with handkerchiefs) he picked up one end and tom the other, the lion hanging down between them. joe took the rifles, and they started home. the moon was setting behind the divide and the world growing dark under the frosty stars as they neared the cabin. once inside, the boys got a rule, and ran back to measure their prey. he was exactly eight feet long, with three feet more of tail, and by lantern light they could see his yellowish-brown color, his gray face and dirty white belly. he looked like some gigantic, elongated house cat. "is that what used to be all over the country, and was called a panther?" joe asked. "i suppose it is," the ranger said. "probably this type that lives in the rocky mountains looks a bit different, but it's the same breed o' cat. you don't have panthers out east any more, do you?" "no, they say one hasn't been seen in massachusetts for fifty years or more," tom answered. "don't know that i'm sorry. i like the deer too well." "speaking of deer, to-morrow we'll go up and rescue the good carcases he didn't eat, and have some fresh meat," said mills. "now to bed. do you know it's two o'clock?" "'most time to get up!" the boys laughed, as they cleaned their rifle barrels and made ready for bunk. chapter xxvi--a hundred miles in four days, over the snow, which is a long trip to get your mail the next morning mills was up at the usual time, but he let the boys sleep, and it was the sound of the breakfast dishes that woke joe, who was usually first up to do the cooking and get the stove red hot. joe himself slept in a separate little room partitioned off at the back, so he could have his window wide open without freezing out the whole cabin. he got up now and hurried out, still sleepy. "i had a funny dream last night," he said. "i dreamed we were bringing the lion home on the sledge peary took to the north pole." "not a bad idea!" the ranger exclaimed. "we might make a sledge to get the deer meat home on. suppose we do that to-day, and to-night we'll take turns guarding the yard from possible wolves." in the ranger's cabin was a kit of tools, and outside was plenty of wood. a sled like peary's, however, was impractical in the soft snow, and, moreover, they soon found that without small hard woods to work with it would be impossible to build any kind of an enduring sledge. "why don't we make a toboggan?" said tom. "you need hard wood for that, too, to curl the end--and it takes time to steam the wood and get it bent, anyhow," mills replied. "wait--i have it!" joe cried. "you folks be getting three or four strips of board ten feet long planed down thin, with the under side smooth. i'll come back presently." he put on his skis and vanished down the trail, with a shovel over his shoulder. while he was gone tom and the ranger took two boards left over from the stable, each about six inches wide, and made another by hand-hewing it from a fallen log close to the cabin. before this was done, joe had returned, bearing triumphantly a twenty-five pound butter box. "i saw it behind the hotel, on the trash pile, when i got the hens," he said. "i went down there and dug where i thought it was. had to make three holes and a tunnel before i got it--but it's hard wood, and all curled." when the third board was hewn out, and all three planed smooth and thin, they were laid side by side and connected with light crosspieces. then the bottom was removed from the big butter box, the side drum severed, and one end securely fastened under the front end of the toboggan bottom. thus the butter box curled up and around like the front of a real toboggan. the loose end was secured with thongs, and rings were put on either side of the boards, to run ropes through to hold on a load. finally, a rope to pull it by was made fast. "there!" tom said. "that's a regular toboggan, and she'll ride on top of the softest snow." "i wonder if she'll buck when we throw a diamond hitch?" joe laughed. as soon as supper was over, joe went alone, with his rifle, up to the yard, and watched over the dead deer till eleven o'clock, when tom relieved him. tom watched till three, and then the ranger guarded till daylight. but before daylight joe was up, cooked some breakfast, roused tom, and taking food for mills and pulling the toboggan, they hurried over the snow, now well packed into a trail by their frequent trips to the yard. all that morning they worked skinning the deer, to save the valuable hides for moccasins, thongs, and similar uses, and quartering the carcases which the lion had not molested after killing them. the meat, of course, was frozen now, and would keep indefinitely. it was a great load of skins and meat they finally packed upon the toboggan, piled high and fastened securely on, but a very dirty, bloody, tired lot of people to drag it home, and they were glad enough that the yard was above the cabin, not below it. but that night, after they were washed, they sat down to a fresh venison steak, and forgot their weariness, as only men can who have lived largely on canned goods for many weeks. "m-m, m-m!" said tom. "this is good! somehow i ain't so mad at that old lion as i was!" "what did you kill him for, then?" mills laughed. "you might have had eleven other deer to eat if you'd let him go." "kind o' mixed, isn't it?" tom confessed. "i sure would kill him every time--but i'd rather eat the deer than leave 'em for the wolves, just the same." "if you want something good to eat, get one of your lion friends to kill a sheep for you, and bring us some mutton," said the ranger. "i haven't had a piece of mutton for ten years, i guess. before this was a park, and we used to hunt here, my! the feasts i've had!" "well, i could stand tinned beef all my life, to see the sheep alive," joe declared. "i'm glad it's a park now." the next day the hides were spread to cure, and the meat was all cleaned and hung, and the three then overhauled their equipment and packed up to make a start the next day for glacier park station. no mail had come to anybody since october, they had been able to send no letters to their parents, and the ranger had not even been able to report to the park superintendent, or the boys to send telegrams since the storm before thanksgiving, because the telephone wire between many glacier hotel and the railroad had been broken. as a rule, mills used this wire in winter. one of the objects of their trip was to see about this break. the trip out to the railroad, which was about fifty-five miles by automobile road, could now be reduced to about forty-five, because they could cut cross lots, over the deep snow, shaving the end of flat top mountain (not the flat top of the valley forge camp, but another on the eastern edge of the overthrust), and by good hiking reach glacier park station in two days. they planned to take the toboggan, loading on it their provisions, sleeping-bags, a small tent, axes, and the scouts' snow-shoes. the boys planned to wear skis for a good part of the trip, and to put mills on the toboggan on the down grades, thus saving time. he laughed at the idea, but as the shoes were light made no objection. that night was clear and cold, and the next day promised to be fair. joe and tom sat up late, getting letters ready to send home, and joe spent an hour on a letter to lucy elkins, telling her about his life in the park, and promising to send snow pictures as soon as he could get them developed. but they were up long before the sun in the morning, and set off by starlight, all three on the ropes of the toboggan, down the trail. when they came to the first long, snowy slope, mills said, "let me see one of you go down it on your skis." tom dropped the rope, and ran, gaining speed as he went, the snow flying out from under the prow of his skis, and a moment later was waving his hand from the bottom. "saves time, all right," the ranger agreed, "but what's to become of me?" "get on the back of the toboggan, let one foot hang out and steer with it, and come along," joe laughed. "it's easy." "i never steered one of the blamed things," said mills. "here, you sit on top of the bags, and hold my skis. i'll show you." joe took his skis off, put mills on the front, and pushed the toboggan over. a cloud of snow rose over the curl of the butter box prow, powdering the ranger in the face, and they flew down the hill in tom's tracks, and stopped at his side. "well, i'll be darned--here we be!" was all mills said, as he brushed off the snow. "tom, i believe there's something we can teach mr. mills!" joe laughed. "i believe he was afraid of a toboggan!" mills' blue eyes twinkled a little. "by gosh, i'll go down the next one on your skis, just for that!" they pushed on steadily down the swift current valley, taking the easiest way over the frozen lake, into the sunrise, and then, at the valley's mouth, swinging south and cutting across toward the end of flat top. mills did put on joe's skis at the next favorable slope--and the scouts had to dig him out of the snow half-way down! "take your old skis," he spluttered, grabbing for his snow-shoes again. "i'll stick to what i'm used to--and the toboggan. i don't have to balance the toboggan." after that, he steered the toboggan down the hills, while the scouts ran on skis. for the up grades, the boys put on their snow-shoes, also, because even on a gentle slope you back-slide with skis if you are pulling a load. they reached the ridge over lower st. mary lake at noon, ate lunch, lowered the toboggan down the slope to the lake, and then ran on the white, level snow surface above the ice inshore, due south, till at evening they had passed st. mary chalets at the foot of upper st. mary lake, and went on into a stand of thick woods, where they decided to camp. the tent was pitched in the most sheltered spot, on packed snow, facing a rock, and on logs laid across the snow packed in front of the rock they built a roaring fire. with the heat of this fire, joe was able to cook supper without his mittens on, though he could not go far away from it without them. when supper was over, they built the fire up afresh, laid in a big supply of wood, and crawling into their sleeping-bags, under the shelter of the tent, itself sheltered by the evergreens, with the flap facing the fire left wide open and the rock reflecting the heat in to them, they were surprisingly warm, when you consider that they were sleeping on snow, with the mercury in the thermometer outside playing tag somewhere below the zero mark--or it would have been, if there had been a thermometer outside. it was "anybody's job," if he woke up, to crawl out and throw more wood on the fire, and joe twice did this. both times, however, must have been long before morning, because when he finally woke up there was a faint hint of dawn in the sky, and the fire was practically out--only the logs they had placed on the snow for a fire base were smouldering. he crawled out again, and built a new fire. then he took a kettle and went to see if he could find any brook open, it was such a slow job melting snow. when he got back, the others were up, stretching and warming themselves by the blaze. the coffee certainly tasted good that morning! and how fragrantly the hot bacon sizzled and spluttered in the pan! they made the second stage of their journey chiefly over the prairie, more or less following the motor road, but cutting off all the corners they could to reduce mileage, and getting dozens of wonderful ski runs over the treeless slopes, while mills, who by now had become quite an expert steering the toboggan, came on behind. "when i get back," he kept saying, "i'm going to learn to use those blooming things, too--but on a little hill first!" the early twilight was deepening into night, and the northern lights were playing when they came over the final slope and saw the railroad signal lights--the first sign of other human beings than themselves they'd laid eyes on since october. half an hour later they were at the station, mills was telephoning to park headquarters at lake mcdonald, and the boys were getting their accumulated mail--letters from home, newspapers for two months past, a big box of cakes and sweet chocolate for tom from his mother, and, for joe, a long letter from lucy elkins, enclosing the pictures she had taken on their trip. that evening they slept in beds at the house of the station agent, after they had spent the evening hearing the news from the outside world. the mass of newspapers they kept to read in the long evenings back in the cabin. laying in some additional provisions, and carefully packing their precious papers, they started back in the morning, over their old tracks, which, except in windy places where they were drift covered, afforded now pretty easy sledding for the toboggan. they made camp again in the same spot, and were up before daylight for the last stage, mills looking scowlingly at the sky. "don't like it to-day, boys," he said. "we're in for a storm. let's beat it home, if we can." and that day he gave them little rest, driving on at a fast pace, with the toboggan rope straining over his shoulder. the sun went under before noon. by mid-afternoon, as they entered the swift current valley mouth, the peaks of the divide were lost in a cold, gun metal cloud, and the wind was rising. they faced this wind all up the valley, with no chance now to coast--only a steady, grinding up-hill pull. it was dark long before they got to the cabin, and the snow had begun to fall in fine, stinging flakes. they were a cold, weary lot when finally they tugged their load up the last grade to the level of the lake, passed into the trees at the tepee camp, and a few minutes later tumbled into the cold cabin, and began to pile wood into the stove. "well, joe, get a hunk of that venison out, and let's forget this day!" mills cried. "light up the big lamp, tom. we've got kerosene enough, too. let's be cheerful." the roar of the logs in the stove, the light of the lamp, and presently the smell of food and coffee, acted like magic. they were soon laughing again, while the wind rose outside, and the trees groaned and creaked, and the snow drove with a kind of hissing patter against the windows and the roof. "a hundred miles in four days, over four feet of snow, and pulling a toboggan--gosh, if anybody'd told me old joe could do that last may, i'd have thought he was crazy," said tom. "you couldn't have done it yourself last may," joe replied. "and," said the ranger, stretching out his legs and rubbing them, "by golly, _i_ don't want to do it again!" "ho," said tom, "i feel fine!" but he was the first to propose bed--although it must be admitted nobody quarreled with his suggestion. chapter xxvii--the ranger and the boys get a ride down the mountain on a snow avalanche, and don't look for another the following day the storm was still raging, and it kept it up till night, too. the drifts were piled half-way up the windows, shutting out their light, the rear door, leading to the stable, was completely barricaded by a drift, and they had to make periodic sallies with a shovel out of the front door, which opened on a veranda four feet above ground level, to keep that clear. it was too bitter cold, the wind too penetrating, to invite further expeditions. even clearing the veranda in front of the door was a job they quarreled over, and finally had to assign at intervals of one hour, each person taking his turn while the other two peered out of the window to see if he did a thorough job. but they had plenty of dry wood inside, and the accumulated newspapers of two months to read, so the day didn't drag, after all. "and," said the ranger, "about to-morrow, or next day, the slides will start, the real slides, this time. that'll be something worth coming out here for. there is so much of this snow that the steep places can't hold it all, and the first sun will send it down." that night, toward morning, joe was awakened by a sound like thunder, and sat up in his sleeping-bag, astonished. "what's a thunder-storm doing in december?" he thought. there was no lightning, however, and he could see outside the brilliant starlight. "slides!" he suddenly remembered. and as soon as it was light, he was up, getting breakfast. breakfast over, he and tom lost no time in getting on their snow-shoes and hurrying out, free of the woods, on the white surface of the frozen lake, with no less than eight feet of snow under them. the sun was now up over the prairie, and sending its rays up the swift current valley and hitting the snow-covered peaks till they glistened rosy. and all around, from the steep walls of gould, six miles away, to the upper precipices of the two mountains hemming in the lake over their heads, the snowslides were leaping and booming with a noise like soft thunder. it was a wonderful sight. you had no idea where or when one was going to start. a steep precipice, covered with snow, would suddenly show signs of life, the snow high up would start slipping, and as the mass descended it would grow in volume, sweeping the slope beneath it and sending up a comet's tail of snow-dust, till it ran out with a boom and a roar upon the less steep slopes below. all around the slides were running, and the steep places seemed fairly to smoke with the comet tails of snow-dust. "of course," said mills, when he was ready to set out, "these slides now are just top snow, the latest fall sliding off the very steep places, and doing little or no harm. in spring the bad ones come, when the whole winter mass, and all the ice and rocks it has gathered up, come down. then, once in a great while, a third kind will descend--the accumulated snow and ice and rock dust of maybe half a century or more. that kind always chooses a place where there hasn't been a slide before, wipes out forests as it comes, and sometimes houses and people in the valleys. the slides to-day all follow regular channels. i know where there'll probably be a good one." he led the way up toward the divide, by a side tributary of the swift current. they climbed steadily a long way up toward the steep head wall, leaving the deep brook bed at the danger point, and working on the side slope above it. finally they reached a point where they were almost under the steep wall, and separated from the brook channel by a mass of rock. here they waited. they had not long to wait. suddenly, without any warning, the snow almost above them started slipping, and in a few seconds was coming down the brook bed at a tremendous rate, pushing all the last snowfall and some of the old ahead of it as it came. by the time it reached the point just below mills and the two scouts, it was apparently going thirty miles an hour, with a head about forty feet high, the whole mass maybe fifty or a hundred feet wide and two hundred feet long, and churning, foaming, falling over and over itself with a great, booming roar and sending out a perfect gale of snow-dust. as it rushed past, the noise was so great that no one heard a lesser roar behind him. without any warning, a smaller slide had started just above the three observers, no doubt caused by the jar and shock of the first, and suddenly the snow boiled up under their feet, they were launched downward on this second slide, and found themselves on the tail end of the big one. then followed the wildest ride any of them had ever had, or ever wanted to have. of course, it was only their wide western snow-shoes that saved their lives. in a second, they were on the tail of the big slide, riding on top of fifty feet of boiling, churning, racing snow, that was by this time going down-hill at close to a mile a minute. if you have ever run logs on a river, you know what a slippery job that is. but imagine the logs leaping up and down as well as rolling around, and traveling a mile a minute down-hill into the bargain, and finally casting up a deluge of powdered snow-dust into your face, and you will have some idea of the job that confronted mills and tom and joe. no one dared look at the others. no one could speak, or make himself heard six inches from his mouth if he did open it. each of them looked at his own feet, or tried to through the blinding snow powder, and just trod snow desperately, to keep upright. to fall down meant to be churned in under the boiling mass, and probably suffocated, or crushed to death. after about one minute that seemed like an hour, the slide had descended to less steep ground. here it hit a little pine wood, and joe just could see, through the flying snow, the trees go crashing down in front, and those on either side (their tops level with his feet!) bow and bend in the wind made by the rushing slide. a second later a tree came boiling up out of the snow right under his feet--or a log, rather, for all its branches were stripped off. he jumped madly to avoid it, and it missed him only by a hair's breadth. beyond the wood, the slide ran out into an open park, went up the incline on the further side by its own momentum, and there spread itself out and came to rest. joe wiped the snow-dust from his eyes and looked to see what had become of tom and the ranger. he was still on his feet, but they were not. the final slump of the slide, with the tail end on which they rode telescoping over the centre, had flung them down and half buried them. for some reason joe had been able to keep his feet. he sprang to help them up, crying, "are you hurt?" they both rose, dazed, and wiped their faces. "i--i dunno!" tom said. "i haven't had time to find out!" the ranger was red with rage. "it had no business to start there!" he exclaimed. "we ought to have been in a safe place. teaches me a lesson--you can't bank on slides any time o' year. that drift above where we stood is always anchored till spring." "well, i guess it's lucky we're alive!" joe exclaimed. "wow! that was some ride! i never was kept so busy in my life!" "and i never want to be again," mills said. "boys, had enough slides for to-day? seen how they work?" "i sure have!" both exclaimed, in one breath. "let's go home. what i'd like to see now is a chinook wind, to take some of this snow away. there's too much of it." "do chinook winds come before spring?" joe asked. he had heard of the dry, warm wind which comes over the ranges, from the warm pacific current, raising the temperature sometimes sixty degrees in as many minutes, and evaporating the snow like magic. "sometimes," mills said. "and we need it now, or all the animals will starve." they were all too weary and even a bit shaky after that terrific ride, to do much more that day. mills did go over to try his telephone, which he found the storm had put out of commission again, and then they sat around the cabin and talked over the two minute excitement, which had seemed, while it lasted, nearer two hours. for supper that night joe got out a can of lobster he found in the storeroom. he thought it would be a special treat, and it was to mills, but tom didn't like lobster, and joe himself didn't care much for it, either, when he came to taste it. so mills ate it all. "came near death this morning--might as well risk my life again to-night," he laughed. chapter xxviii--tom starts on a long hike in the deep snow, over the divide, risking snow-slides, to save the ranger's life the ranger spoke in jest, but in the night the boys were awakened by his groans, and they found his words were anything but a joke. he was suffering terrible pain, in his stomach evidently, and they had never seen anybody look so sick. they scrambled into clothes; joe made up the fire and put on water to heat, while tom got out their first aid kit, and made an emetic, which they got down the poor ranger's throat. the results eased his pain a little, but the boys were certainly scared. "we _got_ to get a doctor," tom cried. "we _got_ to--a doctor or somebody who knows what to do. i got to get over swift current, and down to lake mcdonald, to the park superintendent's office. that's all there is to it." "you can't--you can't!" joe exclaimed. "think of that head wall if a slide hit you! besides, it's thirty miles to the hotel at the head of the lake, and you don't know the way. i do. i'll have to go." "a lot i'll let _you_ go! no such over-exertion for you, and you just well. besides, i know the way over the pass and down to mineral creek. then i turn south, through the woods, and just follow the one trail. i couldn't miss it, and if i did, all i'd have to do would be to take the creek bed. i can start before daylight, get to the head wall at sunrise, be over the pass and down the other side before noon, and have five hours of light to make twenty miles." "what if there shouldn't be any caretaker at the hotel at the head of the lake?" said joe. "i'll break in and use the 'phone, and make a fire. anyhow, i'll pack my sleeping-bag on my back, and get to the superintendent's camp the next morning." he flew to make his preparations, putting on all his warmest clothes, with extra socks and mitts stowed in his sleeping-bag, while joe put him up tea, bacon, matches, raisins and sweet chocolate, in the smallest possible space, got his axe and compass, and extra snow-shoe thongs in case of accident, and finally cooked him some bacon and made tea. "i'm coming with you to the foot of the swift current switchbacks," said joe. "i _got_ to know whether you get up to the top safe!" "but the ranger?" "i can't help him much if i stay--and i guess he's in no more danger than you'll be. oh, spider, i _got_ to know if you get up there safe!" poor joe was close to anxious tears as he spoke, and tom grasped his hand. "i'll get there!" he cried. mills was now only half conscious, moaning on his bed, and the two boys slipped out into the starlight and pushed up the swift current trail. it was bitterly cold. joe carried the pack all the way to the foot of the switchbacks, so that tom could be as fresh as possible. then, at the foot, as day was beginning to redden in the east and give light enough to follow the windings of the trail by, for, on this steep slope, even such a deep snow could not quite hide the cuts the trail made in the bank, the two scouts shook hands silently, and tom started up. "it's mills' life, or mine," he said, grimly. joe watched him go up, slowly, carefully, following the trail wherever he could detect it by the contour of the snow. two or three times his snow-shoes started a small slide of loose snow, but as he was above the starting point, it left him secure, rushing down past joe with a whirl and shower of snow powder. but on this slope, steep as it was, the tiny trees and shrubs seemed to anchor the snow, and there were no large slides at all. after an hour, from far above him, joe heard a faint, thin, "hoo-oo!" and knew that tom was beyond danger. his heart seemed to come back into his breast again, and with a great sigh of relief he hurried back in the level sunrise light, to the cabin, to do what he could for the sufferer. there followed for joe a long vigil, almost helpless, with a very sick man. he gave him hot water to drink, and improvised a hot water bag with a hot stone wrapped in flannel, but he had no medicines, and could do little but watch the poor ranger suffer, and wonder, and wonder, how tom was getting on, until a great, dark, ugly cloud suddenly began to come over the top of the divide, from the west, and his wonder changed to fear and then almost to terror. it looked as if the worst blizzard of all was raging already on the west side of the range, where tom was tracking, all alone, miles from any human being, in the deep forests of the cañon! chapter xxix--tom tramps down mcdonald creek in a chinook wind, and reaches shelter almost exhausted meanwhile, tom had been losing no time. an hour after he had yelled to joe from the top of the danger zone on the wall, he had gone over the pass and reached the granite park chalet. here he paused a few moments for breath, and looked across the shadow-filled cañon to the great white pinnacle of heaven's peak, rosy-white with the sunrise. then he plunged down the trail, with little fear of snowslides on this side because of the trees to anchor the drifts, and in another hour reached the lake mcdonald trail at the bottom. without any pause, he plugged steadily along through the tall, silent, lonely forest, over such deep snow that he was elevated far above the underbrush and had difficulty sometimes in spotting the trail, and kept at it till noon. then he paused to build a fire of dead pine limbs on trodden snow and cook himself some bacon, roasting it on a stick. it was not till this lunch was eaten that he noticed the dusking of the sun, and looking up saw a great, ugly, dark cloud coming over the range to the west. his heart, like joe's back in the cabin a little later, went down somewhere into his moccasins. but, he kept telling himself, he had only a dozen or fifteen more miles to go, he was in the protection of woods, and he couldn't get lost because the cañon walls would always show him the way. besides, he had his sleeping-bag. he could crawl into some hollow tree with it, if the blizzard got too bad. but he must not stop if he could help it. "mills' life or mine!" he kept saying. "it's up to me to save the ranger!" and he shouldered his pack once more, and pressed on, with one anxious eye on the trail, one on the cloud above, which was rapidly spreading across to the eastern range and enveloping the divide. every second he expected to see the first white, driving sheets of the blizzard, for the cloud was racing now, the wind up there was blowing hard. yet no snow came. in fact, tom began to get hot. he thought it was the exertion of trying to increase his pace. but when he stopped to rest his weary shoulders a moment, he was still hot. the wind was certainly beginning to come roaring down into the trees above him now. at last it hit his face. it was a hot wind! then, suddenly, he realized what was coming. "the chinook!" he cried aloud. it was the chinook! in half an hour, tom was in a wringing perspiration, and his fur coat had taken its place on his pack. under his feet a miracle was being performed. the level of the snow was steadily sinking--slowly, to be sure, here in the woods, but steadily. it was sticky on his snow-shoes, but not half so sticky as he thought it would be. the wind seemed so dry that it just soaked the snow up, instead of melting it. on and on tom plodded, wearily, almost exhausted now, going on sheer nerve, till close to five o'clock he got a hint of the lake. then he picked up other snow-shoe tracks, and robinson crusoe could not have been more delighted at the sight of a human footprint. "there's somebody at the hotel!" tom cried, again aloud. this sight gave him a second wind, and he plugged on, with clear hints of the lake through the trees now, and what seemed like open water. but the trail kept off to the east of it, and it was getting rapidly dark when he finally came into a clearing and saw the hotel. the hotel was dark, but near by, in a smaller house, there shone a light! tom hurried, with his last ounce of strength, to the door, and pounded. the door was opened, and tom almost fell in. a strong hand caught him, and steadied him while he got off his snow-shoes, and then steadied him to a chair. "well, who be you, and where'd you come from?" a voice asked. tom could see little but the warm lamplight. the room, the face of the man, were all a blur. "many glacier, over swift current," he gasped. "mills ate something last night--he's awful sick--telephone to the superintendent--or somebody--send a doctor." "you mean to tell me you've come over swift current since last night, in that snow, and then through the chinook?" "yes--'phone for a doctor--quick!" "why didn't you 'phone from many glacier?" "wire's on the bum--can't you hurry and 'phone?" tom almost wailed. "easy, son, easy," the voice steadied him. "nobody can start back now till mornin'. i want to get this right. i can hardly believe it." "oh, you _got_ to believe it!" tom cried. the man rose and began to work at the stove. presently he brought tom a big cup of hot coffee, and a plate of food, and stood by while he drank and ate. as the hot coffee and the food began to revive him, tom told the whole story over again, more calmly, and the caretaker listened, his eyes big. "well, son," he said, "you're all to the mustard. now, if you're able, we'll go 'phone." he led the way, and tom repeated his story to the park superintendent's office. "be ready to start back at daylight," a voice said. "if the chinook's cleared open water enough for the launch to get up the lake, we'll pick you up where you are. otherwise, meet us at the fork of the east and west trail at the head of the lake an hour after sunrise--that is, if you are up to going back with us." "i'll be there!" tom said. his new friend now took him back into the warm, lighted room, made him undress and give himself a good rub, and then put him to bed on a couch in the corner. "if you're goin' back over that trail to-morrow," he said, "you'll need all the sleep you can get to-night." "i guess you're right," tom answered, as he fell wearily, helplessly, upon the soft spring, and almost immediately felt his eyelids close of their own accord. that was the last he remembered till a hand on his shoulder was shaking him,--it seemed about five minutes later. chapter xxx--tom gets back with the doctor, and mills pulls through--then the scouts have to leave for home "time to get up," said the voice of the owner of the hand. tom opened his eyes. the room was still lighted by a lamp, but something told him it was morning, perhaps the gray light at the window. he rose stiffly, and helped his host get breakfast. going out, he found the chinook wind had passed, but it had been blowing, apparently, a good while, for the lake was open water all the way inshore now, except for a fringe of ice cakes piled up like ragged surf along the eastern side. "the lake hadn't frozen yet very far out, anyhow," the caretaker said. "but the chinook's sure taken the snow down!" it had. as if by magic, the eight or ten feet of snow that yesterday had covered everything except the trees was reduced to less than two. the air, too, while it had the sting of winter again, was not bitterly cold--just a nice winter temperature. as the sun was beginning to redden the peaks above the lake, tom heard the _put-put_ of a motor boat far off, and in half an hour a launch had worked in through the floating ice to the end of the pier and a ranger accompanied by a young man threw their packs on the pier and climbed out. "_you_ the man that came over swift current yesterday?" the ranger said, looking at tom. "why, you're only a boy!" "well, i did it--and i'd do more'n that for mr. mills!" tom answered. "you were takin' chances on the swift current head wall," the ranger said. "i'm mighty glad the chinook came, before i have to go down that trail." "i got sort of used to slides," tom said, as they all fastened on their packs, and waved farewell to the caretaker. he told the ranger and the doctor about their ride on the snowslide. "say, you've been havin' an excitin' time up there," the ranger laughed. "wonder what's happened since you left?" "if mills has ptomaine poisoning, nothing has happened," the doctor said. "he's simply been wishing it would!" they grew silent as the grind began up the cañon trail through the forest. tom's tracks of yesterday, melted less than the unpacked snow, showed plainly, and often he had been way off the trail, taking short cuts ten feet up where he was clear of underbrush. "didn't intend to," he said. "but the snow was so deep i couldn't always see the trail, and just steamed straight ahead." at noon they paused an hour for lunch and rest, and then picked up their loads again. the low sun was sinking behind heaven's peak when they reached the top of the pass, and took off their snow-shoes, for the chinook had stripped all the snow from the divide, where the wind had previously blown it thin. on the head wall, they found only a few inches, and they were able to slide from one switchback to the next lower, thus cutting off the turns and descending with great rapidity. but even so it was dark before they reached the cabin, and once more tom was traveling on sheer nerve. so was the doctor, for that matter, though the ranger seemed as fresh as when they started. they had been on the trail for twelve hours, with only one hour rest. but tom was the first up the steps and in the door. joe sprang up from a chair to greet him, and by the lamplight he could see mills, on the couch, and heard him say, in a weak voice, "hello, tom." "thank god!" tom cried, and slumped down weary and exhausted on his pack. the doctor went to work at once. "what have you done for him?" he asked joe. "nothing much i could do," joe said. "we gave him an emetic as soon as he was sick, and i gave him physic and hot water. the hot water seemed to ease him a little." "good," the doctor answered. "you couldn't have done better. he'll come around all right now. sick, were you, mills?" mills groaned for reply. "when the chinook came," joe laughed, "i told him i thought a blizzard was going to hit us, and he said he hoped it would blow the cabin into the lake!" joe now hurried about getting supper and making up beds for the tired men, while mills lay feebly on the couch and made tom sit by him and tell about his trip. "you shouldn't 'a' done it, boy," he kept saying. "you shouldn't 'a' risked it for the old ranger." but that night they were roused by hearing poor mills in the throes of another attack. the doctor hurried to him. "it's brought on a sort of acute indigestion," he said to the others. "i didn't realize he was so bad. it's lucky i'm here, for you can't let such attacks go on, or they get you." all that night he and joe sat up with the sick man, and all the next day, and the day after that, he kept the ranger in bed, and doctored him. the third day mills was feeling better, and grew restless. "you stay where you are," the doctor laughed, "and thank young tom who got me, and joe who dosed you till i came, that you're alive at all! i've got to go to-morrow, but jerry will stay with you and feed you according to schedule till you're o.k. again." "i suppose that means the boys are going to-morrow, too," mills answered. "they--they got to be home for christmas. say, doc, can't you make 'em just sick enough so they'll have to stay?" the doctor laid a hand on his shoulder. "maybe i can get you transferred to headquarters till you're all right again," he said. "then you won't miss the boys so much." but if it was hard for the ranger to part with tom and joe, it was scarcely less hard for them to leave him, even if it did mean getting home to their families for christmas, yet they could not put it off a day longer, because already they had just time to make connections at chicago and reach home on christmas morning. the ranger's sickness had delayed them. so tom and joe began to pack. they had long realized they would have to leave some day, and in mid-winter, so they had sent home by express all their summer clothes and their balloon silk tent and their folding cots, in their trunks, by the last bus out in october. but they still had a big load. all the books, except a few school books, they left for mills. most of their clothes they put on. the two sleeping-bags and the snow-shoes, which belonged to the ranger, they were to leave with the station agent. their bearskin caps and coats, which mills had procured for them, he made them keep as a present, and tom, for a present to him, left his skis behind. joe left as his present the warm, soft bed puff he had used ever since he came to the park, and his aluminum coffee-pot, to take the place of the battered old tin one mills used. they packed the toboggan that night, to be ready for an early start, and then sat around the stove for the last time, in the little cabin. the doctor and the other ranger did all the talking. mills, who lay on the couch, and the boys did not feel like saying a word. the next morning joe cooked the last breakfast. poor mills was not allowed to drink any coffee. "i'm goin' to drink tea after this, anyhow, joe," he said. "you've spoiled my taste for my own coffee, confound you." he came to the door to help in the last packing of the toboggan. "if you've left anything, i'll keep it till you come back next summer," he said, trying to laugh. "we'll be back!" the scouts cried. "we'll be rangers, too, some day, with you as our boss!" "i'm goin' to miss you something fierce, boys," mills added, taking each of them by the hand. "tom, i can't never thank you proper for what you did--so we'll let it go at that. you're a regular scout, and you and joe'll make good whatever you do, and joe'll keep as well as he is now, always." he turned his head suddenly away, and the boys felt a lump in their own throats. then they started. when they looked back to wave, however, he was facing them, and they could see his pale, blue eyes--the eyes of a woodsman--looking at them as they went down the trail. opposite the entrance to their old camp, joe dropped the rope, and ran down the path, to the surprise of tom and the doctor. he came back with their rough sign, "camp kent," and stuck it into the load. "gee, if we'd forgotten that for a souvenir!" he cried. tom gave the doctor some wild rides on the toboggan in the next two days, while joe took the hills on skis. they camped that night in the same woods as before, only this time they had no tent, only such protection as they could hastily rig up by making a rough lean-to of evergreen boughs and crawling under it in their sleeping-bags. each one took a watch to keep the fire going during the night, and they managed to come through fairly comfortably, though it was bitterly cold. however, they were up long before the sun, and on their way. the second day the boys knew they were seeing the mountains for the last time, and as they passed by old rising wolf, his red rocks buried under glistening snow, they loitered a little on the trail and walked with their eyes turned upward and toward the west. and that evening they were suddenly landed out of the lonely snow-fields and the wilderness of rocks and cliffs and frozen lakes, of deer and lions and avalanches, into the hot, musty smell of a pullman sleeping car, on the trans-continental limited, bound east! they each took one sniff, and looked at one another. then tom laughed. "we'll get used to it again," he said. "i suppose so," joe answered, "but gosh! it's going to be hard work." chapter xxxi--home again--joe's christmas present to his mother is sound health again, and tom rejoices they got to chicago the day before christmas, and had time to go shopping for presents. tom sneaked off by himself, and returned with a mysterious parcel, which joe imagined was for him. twenty-five hours later, they were getting out of the train at southmead, into the arms of their parents and brothers and sisters, and amid the cheers of the assembled scouts. "well, you are certainly a hard looking pair!" mr. rogers laughed. "and hard feeling, too," he added, poking joe's legs and arms. "what do you weigh, joe?" "i weighed a hundred and fifty-nine in chicago," joe answered. the next two days both boys spent telling everybody the tales of their adventures, and mr. rogers took joe up to dr. meyer again, who thumped him and listened at him as before, weighed him and tested him, and then, with a smile, declared he was as fit as a fiddle. "and mind you live outdoors till you're twenty-one, and keep so!" he added. "and then go on living outdoors if you can, till you're a hundred and one. it's the only way to live, anyhow. i haven't been out for a week, and i know!" "take that news home to your mother as a christmas present, joe," said mr. rogers. then he turned to tom. "and you, tom, gave the present of health to joe. how do you like giving instead of receiving?" "giving? giving nothing!" tom exclaimed. "don't you make any mistake. i received more pleasure seeing old joey get fat and strong than i'll ever give anybody!" "that's what i like to hear a scout say," mr. rogers smiled, putting an arm over each boy's shoulder, and hanging his weight on them, to feel how sturdy they were. neither flinched an inch, but stood up like hickory posts. joe's christmas present from tom--the mysterious bundle he bought in chicago--was a developing tank and all the chemicals. joe also received from lucy elkins, on christmas day, a beautiful enlargement of a view of gunsight lake and mount jackson, to hang in his room. for the next few days he and tom toiled over the tank, developing their endless rolls of film, and then, when these were printed, they gave an exhibition at the scout house. but it was several days before they went into the woods. "gee, it's too much like a prairie 'round here," tom said, casting a contemplative glance at their eighteen-hundred-foot mountain. finally, however, just before school commenced, they put on snow-shoes, and tramped over a mean little eight inches of snow to the top of their highest hill, out on a ledge above the trees. southmead lay below them, with all its roofs and steeples gathered in the snowy fields like a herd of cattle. the woods were still. "it's not the rockies," said tom, "but it's pretty nice at that, and we'll get out the old rope on this baby cliff in the spring." "it's home," said joe, "and i'm well again, and can go to school, and help mother, and study for the forestry service with you, and--and--oh, spider, you're the best friend a fellow ever had!" "no," tom answered, "you've got the wrong dope. i've got the best friend to be a friend to a fellow ever had. anyhow, joey, we've given old man tuberculosis the knock out, and had a grand old time doing it. let's see if we can start a snowslide here." but the snow stuck in a huckleberry bush six feet down. "i guess it's old cæsar and geometry for us," tom sighed, "till we beat it for the rockies for good and all." "geometry's not so exciting," joe laughed, "but i suppose we've got to have it." boy scouts in northern wilds or, the signal from the hills by major archibald lee fletcher author of "boy scout rivals; or, a leader of the tenderfoot patrol," "boy scouts on old superior; or, the tale of the pictured rocks," "boy scouts' signal sender; or when wigwag knowledge paid," "boy scout pathfinders; or, the strange hunt for the beaver patrol" etc., etc. chicago, contents chapter i--a camp on moose river ii--the little brass god iii--the cabin in the swamp iv--lost in the storm v--a boy scout trick vi--the cave of the two bears vii--am empty cavern viii--a trapper's treachery ix--two hungry bears x--boys in a tight place xi--the half-breed xii--a surprise at the cabin xiii--a face at the window xiv--a call prom the darkness xv--a hunting expedition xvi--antoine on the run xvii--"boys up a tree!" xviii--a pillar of fire xix--the signal from the hills xx--a sight of the god xxi--two rifle shots xxii--the twin brass gods chapter i a camp on moose river four boy scouts, of the beaver patrol, chicago, were in camp on moose river. they were all athletic young fellows, not far from seventeen years of age, and were dressed in the khaki uniform adopted by the boy scouts of america. if you take a map of the british northwest territories and look up moose river, you will discover that it runs through nearly three hundred miles of wilderness, from lake missinale to moose bay. the reader will well understand, then, how far "sandy" green, will smith, george benton and tommy gregory had traveled from civilization. the camp of the boy scouts was situated some fifty miles up the river from moose factory, a trading point famous in old indian days for its adventurous spirits and its profits to the factors. those who have read the preceding books of this series will doubtless remember the four boy scouts named above. together they had visited the pictured rocks of old superior, the everglades of florida, and the great continental divide. during all their journeys the boys had shown courage and resourcefulness beyond their years, and because of these qualities they had been chosen, by mr. horton, a noted criminal lawyer of chicago, to undertake a difficult and dangerous mission to the hudson bay country. they had traveled by way of the canadian pacific to missanabie, from which point they had proceeded to lake missinale. here they had purchased a "mackinaw," a great flat-bottomed craft, in which to transport their tents and supplies down moose river to the bay of the same name. they had made most of the journey in native canoes, which they had learned to handle with considerable skill, but now and then they had taken refuge on the big boat, "just to stretch their limbs," as they expressed it. they left chicago late in september and it was now almost the last of october. those who live in the hudson bay country declare that they have three seasons in four months, spring comes in june, summer in july and august, and autumn in september. at the southern extremity of james bay, october may scarcely be called a winter month, although during the latter part of the month ice and snow are not infrequent. the sun was setting on the lads' first day in camp as the boys rested from their labor of dragging in great quantities of both dry and green wood. their tents were of double canvas, specially prepared for cold weather, and their bedding and suits had constituted an important part of their baggage. almost the entire fronts of the tents were composed of fine, strong silk mesh-cloth. the faces of the boys were well anointed with grease, and masks of mesh-cloth hung about the tents ready for use. mosquitos and an insect known as the "bull-dog" had driven many a trapper and hunter out of the swampy regions around hudson bay. during the summer it is almost impossible to live in the swamps of that country at all. by protecting their tents and faces, and keeping great "smudges" going, the boys hoped to be able to live in comparative comfort during their stay in that section. "look here, will," tommy said, as he laid down a great armful of dry wood, "some one ought to invent some kind of a contraption to kill these flying pests off by the billion. here it is almost cold enough to snow, and we're being eaten alive by mosquitos." "i reckon it wouldn't do much good to invent a way of killing the brutes," will suggested, "as long as the swamps and pools of the northwest territories are turning them out at the rate of a billion a minute." "i read a story about how to get rid of mosquitos the other day," sandy said. "it might be a good idea to try it." "you can always read how to do things, in the newspapers," tommy argued. "the only trouble is that the ideas don't work." "this one will work," declared sandy. "the way to kill mosquitos," he continued, "is to throw a great long rope up in the air. you let it stay up in the air; that is, one end of it, and grease it carefully with cold cream and tie a piece of raw beefsteak at the upper end. that will attract the mosquitos. then when you get several millions up the rope, you cut it in two about twenty feet from the ground and pull the lower end down." "it'll be the foolish house for yours!" tommy laughed. "how are you going to throw one end of a rope up in the air and make it stay there?" "i didn't say how to make it stay up in the air," grinned sandy. "i just said you had to make it stay up in the air. then when the mosquitos get tired of staying up in the ambient atmosphere, they'll come crawling down the rope and fall off where you cut it." "i guess your dome needs repacking all right!" laughed tommy. "and then, when they come to the place where the rope has been cut off, they'll take a tumble for themselves, and you stand under the line and beat their heads off with an axe." "poor child!" laughed tommy. "if you leave it to me," george declared with a grin, "that story about how to kill mosquitos came out of noah's ark on crutches." the sun was setting over the great wilderness to the west, and the boys hastened to pile more wood on the fire. the forest was alive with the cries of birds, and the undergrowth showed curious eyes peering out at the intruders. "this beats little old chicago," cried george, bringing out a great skillet of ham. "when we live in the city, we've got to eat in the house and smell dishwater. when you live out doors, you've got a dining room about a thousand miles square." "and when you live in chicago," tommy continued, "you can't get fresh fish right out of the brooks. when you want a fish here, all you've got to do is to run out to the river, grab one in your arms, and bring him in!" "then run out and get one now!" advised will. "perhaps you think i can't!" shouted tommy. seizing a head-net the boy dashed away to the margin of moose river. his chums saw him walking about in quest of a minnow for a moment and then heard the swish of a line. in ten minutes he was back at the camp with a whitefish weighing at least five pounds. there is incessant fishing in the wilderness north of lake superior throughout every month of the year. all through the long winter the ice is cut away in order that the fish may be reached, and there is every sort of fishing between that which engages the labors of sailing vessels and men, down through all the methods of fish-taking, by nets, by spearing, still-fishing and fly-fishing. though the region has been famous, and therefore much visited, for many years, the field is so extensive, so well stocked, and so difficult of access, that even today almost the very largest known specimens of each class of fish are to be had there. "these are the kind of fish the indians live on during the winter," tommy explained as he scraped the scales from his prize. "only," he continued, "the indians don't clean them at all. they simply make a hole in the tail end of each fish and string them up like beads on sticks which they set up in racks." "i never did like cold-storage fish," sandy declared, in a tone of disgust. "they taste like dry corn meal!" while the fish cooked and the boys sat in the protecting smudge of the campfire, the sound of paddles was heard up the river. the swish and splash came on steadily for a moment and then suddenly ceased. "i thought we were going to have company," suggested will. the boys listened for a time but no further sounds were heard. "now what would any one be doing in this wilderness?" sandy asked. "what would any one be sneaking around us for?" "perhaps they don't even know we're here!" argued george. "with that great campfire going?" scoffed tommy. "why, they can see the light of that fire for ten miles or more!" "that's right," replied george. "i guess that fire wouldn't help to hide our presence here any." "suppose i go and see what's doing?" asked tommy. "you know your failings, young man!" will cut in. "if you go out in the wilderness to see who's running that canoe, you're likely to get lost, or come back here after a couple of days with a broken leg or a busted coco! you'd better stay in camp." "but i want to know who's sneaking around our tents!" insisted tommy. "you come along with me, will, if you think i'm not competent to go alone," the boy added with a grin. will hesitated for a moment and then providing himself with an automatic revolver and an electric searchlight, the two boys left the camp and soon disappeared in the darkness. they had been gone scarcely five minutes when a shot came from the thicket. chapter ii the little brass god after a time george and sandy heard some one running through the undergrowth, and the next instant will and tommy burst into view. it was evident that they had been running, for they were panting and their clothing was disarranged and torn in places. the two boys hastened out to meet their chums with question marks in their eyes. will and tommy offered no explanation until the tents had been reached, then tommy burst into a low chuckle. "can you beat it?" he asked. "what are you talking about?" demanded george. "what did you see out there?" asked sandy. "we didn't see a thing!" declared tommy. "you're wrong there!" will cut in. "we saw the flash of a gun!" "some one shoot at you?" questioned george. "perhaps not," will replied, "but i heard a bullet whizzing past my ear! that's not a very warm welcome to this blooming country, i take it." "what's it all about?" asked sandy impatiently. "that's the answer!" tommy declared. "that's all we know about it ourselves. we hear a paddle splash in the water; we go out to see what's doing, and we get a chunk of lead plugged at us. that's the answer so far as i know. now, how about this fish?" "right as a book!" cried sandy. "i've been taking care of this fish while you've been out there facing some boy with an air gun." "yes," laughed tommy, "if you want to find boys with air guns, come out here about three hundred miles north of nowhere!" the incident did not seem to affect the appetites of the boys, for they attacked the fish industriously. when the meal was finished and the dishes cleared away; will turned to his chums with a sober look on his face. when he spoke it was with suppressed excitement. "do you boys know exactly why we are in the hudson bay country?" he asked, "how much did mr. horton tell you?" "nothing at all!" tommy replied. "he just told us to come with you!" george cut in. "when i tried to cross-examine him," laughed sandy, "he said he was afraid we wouldn't go if he told us what sort of a game we were mixing in." "well," will went on in a moment, "he told me to tell you after we got into camp on moose river." "go on and tell us, then," chuckled tommy. "i don't believe it's any great mystery!" sandy interrupted. "we came here," will said, speaking seriously, "to find the little brass god. odd sort of a quest, that, eh?" "what's the little brass god?" demanded sandy. "did you think it was a load of hay?" asked tommy. "the little brass god is the little brass god. didn't you know that?" "what does any one want of a little brass god?" asked george. "the little brass god," will explained, "is believed to be valuable, chiefly for what is contained in his belly." "so this is a stuffed god?" cried tommy. "has he eaten something he can't digest?" cut in sandy. "that just explains it!" will exclaimed. "he has eaten something he can't assimilate, and we've been sent up here to relieve him of it!" "how did the little brass god ever get into the hudson bay country?" asked tommy. "i should think he'd know better." "i reckon the little brass god had nothing to say regarding his journey," replied will. "two months ago the house of mr. frederick tupper, on drexel boulevard, chicago, was burglarized. besides taking considerable money and silver plate, the thief also carried away the little brass god." "i don't think any thief in his right mind would do that!" declared sandy. "what could he do with a little brass god? he couldn't pawn it, or sell it, or trade it, without its being traced back to him!" "well, he took it just the same!" will replied. "how much is he worth?" asked george. "not more than five dollars." "then he isn't one of those east india little brass gods with his legs crossed, and his arms folded, and a grin on his face?" "his legs are crossed, his arms are folded, and there is a grin on his face!" replied will with a smile. "but he's certainly not one of the population of a hindu temple." "he's just a common little brass god, probably made in newark, new jersey," suggested george. "what do they want him for?" "they want to search him!" replied will. "aw, come on, tell us all about it!" urged tommy. "well," will explained with a smile, "the tummy of the little brass god is supposed to contain the last will and testament of simon tupper, father of frederick tupper." "gee!" exclaimed tommy. "can't he get the property until he gets the will? then we'll have to find it, i guess!" "no, he can't get the property unless the will is found." "who stole the little brass god, and also the will?" asked george. "did he know he was stealing the will when he stole the little brass god?" asked sandy without giving will an opportunity to reply to the previous question. "how'd he know the will was there?" "we don't know whether he knew about the will or not," answered the boy. "in fact, we don't know whether the document is still in the tummy of the little brass god. that's what we've got to find out." "you didn't tell me who stole the little brass god and the will," insisted george. "i said it was a burglar!" "but was it a burglar--a real, genuine burglar?" "yes, loosen up!" shouted tommy. "did he go there just to burgle, or did he go there to get that will?" "that's another thing we've got to find out!" will answered. "it's just this way," the boy continued. "we've been sent up here to find this little brass god. when we find it, we'll know whether the man who stole it was a common thief, or whether he was sent by interested parties to do the job. no living person can open the little brass god without first learning the way to do it. in fact, the only way the toy can be opened by one unfamiliar with the secret is to break it open with an axe! and that would hardly be done, as the little fellow is rather a cute plaything." "and so, if the will is there, a burglar stole it. and if the will is not there, some one interested in the disposition of the property walked away with it! is that it?" "that's the way we figure it out!" will answered. "and in the meantime," he continued, "an older will is being offered for probate. if the little brass god fails to disclose the last will, the property will go to a young man who was intensely hated and despised by the man who built up the fortune. simon tupper will turn over in his grave if howard sigsbee, his nephew, has the handling of that money." "i can't see how that's going to get simon anything!" grinned tommy. "now," george asked, "why do they think the little brass god was brought into the hudson bay country?" "we have traced it to an antique shop on lower state street," will answered. "from there to the shabby parlor of a fourth rate boarding house on dearborn avenue, from there into the possession of a french canadian who hunts and fishes in the moose river district." "that's pretty straight!" george agreed. "how do they know this french canadian got this little brass god out of town?" asked sandy. "you take a french canadian of the trapper sort, and get him well tanked, and he'll sell the ears off his head for another drink of brandy. perhaps he hocked the little brass god." "if he did," will answered, "the search must begin all over again!" "who put this will in the tummy of this little brass god?" asked tommy. "the man who made it--simon tupper," answered will. "did he tell anyone where it was?" "on his deathbed, he told frederick tupper, his nephew, where to find it. it's a pity the young man didn't remove the document and file it in probate court. it would have saved a lot of bother." "but he didn't," george suggested, "and that gives us a fine trip to the hudson bay country." "when was the house of this frederick tupper burglarized?" asked sandy. "on the night following the death of the old gentleman." "had the villain of the drama, this howard sigsbee, any knowledge concerning the hiding place of the will?" "he was not believed to have." "do they think he went there and got the will himself?" "huh!" objected tommy. "if he'd gone after the will himself, he'd have taken it out of the little brass god and carried it away with him. and he'd have made a pile of ashes of it in about one minute, at that!" "perhaps he couldn't open up the merry little chap," sandy suggested. "we don't know whether he understood the secret or not," will answered. "all we know is that the little brass god was still intact a week after it had been stolen." "then he knew the combination, or he didn't get the will!" argued george. "anyhow!" tommy laughed, "we've got only about a million or more miles of country to search over for a little brass god about -----" "say, just how big is this little brass god?" asked sandy. "he's about six inches in height, and three inches across his dirty shoulders, and he certainly is about the ugliest specimen of a heathen beast that ever came down the pike." "what would that french canadian buy him for?" asked george. "that's another thing we've got to find out," replied will. tommy was about to ask another question when will held up a hand for silence. the leaping flames were sending long streamers of light into the thicket on either side and over the glistening waters of moose river. the circle of illumination extended for some distance on every side, except at the back of the tents, where the level ground lay in shadows. as the boys listened, the soft sound of a moccasined foot came to their ears. it seemed only a yard away, and yet it was not in sight. george dashed to the back of the tents, followed by a sharp cry of alarm. chapter iii the cabin in the swamp when george reached the rear of the tent he saw a crouching figure there. a hole had been cut in the cloth, and the fellow was gazing into the tent. he was dressed in woodsman's attire, leather jacket and leggins and fur cap. the gold rings in his ears quivered and glistened as the light of the fire struck them. as george rounded the tent the spy turned and ran for the forest. without a thought as to the ultimate result, george followed along behind. for some distance the lad kept pace with the mysterious visitor, but, of course, it was impossible for him to do so for any great length of time, as the fugitive was well versed in woodcraft, while george was not. after a time george lost sight of the fellow entirely, but could still keep track of him by the noise he made in passing through the thicket. it was quite evident that the intruder now believed that pursuit, had entirely ceased, for he made his way more leisurely through the swampy growth, and seemed to pay no attention whatever to the sounds of his passage. using great caution, the boy finally gained the hummock and stood looking at the dark bulk of a log cabin which stood in the center. he listened for a long time but all was silent inside. presently he circled the place and came to a small opening which was more like a loop-hole than a window. there was a glass pane here, and through it he saw that there was a fire on the inside. by this time the lad was shivering with cold, not having taken the time to provide himself with heavy clothing before leaving the camp in pursuit of the spy. as he glanced through the glazed opening he saw a great fire of logs blazing in a rudely made fireplace at one end of the room. he moved on until he found a door. "perhaps the owner of this log mansion will think i'm pretty prompt in returning his call," the lad mused as he knocked softly at the door. "but, all the same, i'm going to give him the pleasure of my company until i can get warm." there was no response to the knock, and so george opened the door and entered. there was no one in front of the fire; no one in any of the rude chairs. the boy stood looking about the room for a moment and then walked back to three bunks fastened against the wall, one above the other. when he reached the front of the sleeping places an exclamation of alarm came from a bundle of furs and blankets on the lower bunk and a boy's frightened face gazed up at him. the boy sat observing the other with evident suspicion for a moment, until his eyes caught sight of the boy scout medals which adorned the sleeve of the lad's coat. then he extended an arm in the full salute of the boy scouts of america, and sat back with a grin on his face to note the result. "beaver patrol; chicago," he said directly. "i know you," george said with an exclamation of surprise. "you're thede carson, and you're about the toughest little wharf rat in chicago!" "that's a nice recommend for a patrol leader to give one of his scouts," grinned the boy. "you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" "the last time i saw you," george said, smiling at the memory, "you were diving into the south branch to keep out of sight of a police boat." "i remember that," grinned thede. "they said i'd been swiping bananas up in gambler's alley, and that wasn't true." "well, how in the name of all the seven wonders of the world did you get into the hudson bay country?" demanded george. "old finklebaum," answered thede. "old finklebaum?" repeated george. "do you mean the old shylock who does business under the three balls down on state street? you can't mean that he had anything to do with your appearance here?" "you bet he did have something to do with my being here!" thede insisted. "you see, it's just this way: old finklebaum says to me one day, 'i'll take the hair off ikey's head for selling that little brass god!'" george gave a quick start of surprise at the mention of the very article the boy scouts had come to the hudson bay country in quest of, but checked himself in a second. "what did he have a--a--what did you say it was?--if he didn't want to sell it?" asked the boy in assumed surprise. "he did want to sell it up to that very day," was the reply, "but no one wanted to buy it. then a man came into the shop and said he'd give a thousand dollars for it on sight. so finklebaum, having the little brass god within a foot of his hawkbill nose, takes the man's address and says he'll let him know if he hears anything about the thing in demand. finklebaum thinks that if the man'll pay one thousand dollars for it, he'll pay five, and that's why he loses out." george's interest was now so intense that the boy ceased speaking and sat regarding him steadily for a moment. "what do you know about the little brass god?" he demanded. "nothing," replied george. "never saw it!" "seems to me you're pretty much interested in it, though," commented the boy, rising from the bunk and taking a seat before the fire. "i was thinking about old finklebaum cheating himself by getting too gay," answered george. "go on, and tell me about it!" "so when this man who offers the thousand dollars leaves the shop," thede continued, "finklebaum chases out to a dealer in antiques to make inquiries about the little brass god. i guess he thinks it's some east india idol, or something of that kind, and that his fortune is made." "supposing it should be an east india idol!" exclaimed george, "it may be, for all i know," thede replied. "anyhow, while old finklebaum was out trying to find out how much his little brass god was worth, little ikey sold it for a ten dollar note." "oh my, oh my, oh my!" laughed george. "i'll bet there was a merry old time when finklebaum returned and found the ten dollar note in the drawer and the little brass god gone." "such a racket as never was!" declared thede, laughing at the recollection of the scene. "i was in the shop," he went on, "getting out some articles mother murphy had been borrowing money on, and heard all that took place." "go on and tell me about it." "old finklebaum said he was just plumb ruined. he said he'd snatch ikey bald-headed, and do a lot of other things to him, if he didn't walk right out into state street and bring back that little brass god. holy moses! you ought to have seen how scared little ikey was!" "could he describe the man who bought the little brass god?" inquired george in a tone intended to be indifferent. "oh, yes!" replied thede. "ikey said the man wore a leather jacket with a red belt around the waist, a fur cap and rings in his ears. so ikey was sent out to find the fellow, and i asked old finklebaum what he'd give me if i'd bring back the little brass god. he says he'll give me a hundred dollars the minute i put it in his hands, and i ducked down state street in search of this gink with the rings in his ears." "and didn't find him?" "if i had you wouldn't find me up here in this beastly country," replied thede. "that is," the boy went on, "if i had found him with the little brass god in his possession." "so you really did find him?" questioned george. "yes, i ran across him in a saloon down near twelfth street, and stuck to him like a bulldog to a cat's back for two days and nights." "why didn't you go and tell finklebaum where he was, and let him do the watching? that's what you should have done!" "not for mine!" answered the other. "old finklebaum would have taken the case out of my hands, and fooled me out of my hundred simoleons. i follows this gink around until he becomes sociable and sort of adopts me. i gets into his furnished room down on eldridge court and searches it during his absence. there ain't no little brass god there!" '"did you ever get your eyes on it?" asked george. "never!" was the reply. "but he acts funny all the time, and i think he's got it hidden. when he gets ready to come back to the hudson bay country he asks me how i'd like to come up north with him and learn to be a trapper, so i says that if there's anything on earth i want to be it's a trapper, and i come up here, making him think i'm after fur, when all the time i'm after the little brass god." "are you sure the man you followed is the man who brought the toy?" asked george, "you might have picked up the wrong man, you know." "no i didn't!" replied thede. "i've heard this man, pierre, muttering and talking in his sleep, and i know he has the little brass god hidden. i'll go back to chicago some day with it in my possession and old finklebaum will pay me a couple of thousand or he'll never get hold of it again! won't it be a great story to tell the boys on state street about the times i'm having up here." the door opened and pierre entered, anger flashing from his eyes. chapter iv lost in the storm "what you do here?" demanded pierre, standing with his back against the door and facing george with a snarl of hate and suspicion. "i got lost!" was the quick reply. "you go 'way!" shouted the trapper. "aw, what's the matter with letting him stay here all night?" asked thede. "these boys are hunting and fishing, and the kid got lost in the swamp. he's all right!" "he follow me!" insisted pierre. "sure, i did!" george replied, trying to give the impression that the matter was rather a good joke on himself. "i heard you smashing through the bushes and i thought you were some kind of a wild animal, and so i followed you up. i got so far away from camp that i couldn't find my way back. then i saw your light and came here." "where your gun?" demanded pierre, pointing suspiciously to the boy's empty hands. "you no shoot without gun!" george drew an automatic from his pocket and held it up in the firelight. pierre eyed it enviously. "we hunt with these things!" the boy said. pierre continued to regard the boy with suspicion, for a long time but he finally seated himself before the fire and began to grumble because thede had not been more active in the preparations for supper. "it's a wonder you wouldn't come home and get supper yourself once in a while!" exclaimed the boy, "you needn't think i came up here in the cold to wait on you, old hoss!" the lad added with a wink at george. "i didn't leave my happy home for any such menial service." pierre grumbled out a few sentences in mongrel french and proceeded to prepare a solitary meal. thede winked at george and began cooking enough supper for both of them. george was thinking fast while the boy was sweating before the scorching heat of the fire. he was wondering whether thede had told him the exact truth concerning his connection with pierre. he was wondering, too, whether the boy had told all he knew of the little brass god. here were two parties in the northern wilderness in quest of the same thing! it occurred to the wondering boy that pierre might have been sent into the hudson bay country in quest of the individual who had purchased the little brass god at the pawnbroker's shop. this, he argued, would be just about what finklebaum would be likely to do. on the discovery of his loss, he would naturally seek some one familiar with the northern country and dispatch them in quest of the lost prize. in case this should prove to be the fact, the boy thede might not have been taken into the confidence of the two men. he might be telling what he believed to be the truth concerning the matter. the advantages to the pawnbroker of this secret arrangement would be many. in the first place, anyone following pierre would naturally suppose him to be the person having possession of the little brass god. this would naturally cause investigators to entirely lose sight of the real possessor in shadowing the man sent out to recover the article. another point which the boy considered was the possibility of the little brass god having been robbed of his treasure before being placed in the pawnshop. this idea, however, he soon rejected for the reason that no one would know better than the man who inspired the larceny whether the will was still retained in the cavity of the toy. had he secured the document, he would be the last one to offer a high reward for the return of the odd casket in which it had been contained. while the boy puzzled over the case, pierre and thede sat down to their evening meal. george was invited to join them in the repast, but declined on the ground that he had eaten supper not long before. after the meal was over, pierre took up his rifle and left the cabin, scowling at george over his shoulder as he took his departure. "he's pretty sore about your being here," grinned thede. "i don't know why he should be." "perhaps he thinks you've come up here to steal this little brass god." the boy was very anxious to get back to his chums in order that the situation might be thoroughly discussed. they were in the hudson bay country in quest of the little brass god, and here was thede on the same mission. it seemed to him that if pierre had really had the toy in his possession, thede would have caught sight of it, at least, the more he thought of this phase of the case, the more he was inclined to believe that pierre was also in search of the little brass god. "pierre will be apt to raise a howl if i leave the cabin alone," the boy finally said. "he's fierce when he gets mad!" "you don't seem to be afraid of him," replied, george. "i'm afraid of him all right," the other replied, "but i don't intend to let him know it. i've got one of these billies inside my coat, all the time, and if he tries any funny business with me i'll knock his block off!" "he could cut you into shoestrings while you are asleep!" "yes, i suppose so, but be won't do anything of the kind!" "well, come on over to camp," urged george. "it isn't so very much of a walk. i guess we can make it in half an hour." thede hesitated, but finally dressed himself for a cold journey, and fixed the fire so that no damage might be done by it during his absence. "how long has pierre lived in this cabin?" asked george, as the boys started out. "it looks like an old building." "i guess he found it standing here deserted and just moved in," was the reply. "i don't think he knows much about this country." "do you think he has any idea that the little brass god is in such great demand?" asked george. "no, i don't think he has." "then, why should he keep it hidden away, even from you, three hundred miles away from civilization? i should think he'd want to have the thing out once in a while, just to take a look at it, anyway." "i should think so," agreed thede. the boys made their way over the morass and entered the thick undergrowth. now and then george flashed his electric, but he did not keep it burning steadily for the reason that he did not care to have pierre trailing them back to the camp. "are you sure you passed this way when you came to the cabin?" asked thede as they walked along. "i don't seem to find any trail here." "it seems to me i came along here," was the reply. "if it wasn't so blasted dark, we could tell whether we were going in the right direction or not, all right!" as the boy spoke, he lifted a hand to his face and raised the net which protected his features from the mosquitos, still flying about, although the night, apparently, was cold enough to freeze their wings stiff. "they won't bother you much more," thede commented. "how do you know that?" "because there's a snow storm coming up!" "then we'd better be getting a move on!" advised george. "if we get caught up here in a snow storm, it'll be 'good-night' for us!" "we're going as fast as we can," replied thede, "but i don't know whether we're going in the right direction or not. it seems like we've walked far enough to be at the camp." in five minutes the searchlight revealed a drift of snow in the air, and ten minutes later the ground was white. a cold wind blew out of the north, shifting at times to the west, and the boys shivered under the chill of it. still no welcome light from the camp. "can you find your way back to the cabin?" asked george after they had walked at least an hour. "we've got to find our way somewhere pretty soon!" the other replied. "if we don't, we'll freeze to death!" the boys walked for what seemed to them two hours more, and then thede, who was in advance, stumbled over a tree bole lying at the foot of a gentle slope. he rose rubbing his elbow and turned the flashlight toward the front. "i know where we are now," he said. "we're about eight miles from the cabin. this place here is called bear ridge, and it's about the only collection of rocks and caverns that i know of in this district." "can't we find a cavern to crawl into?" asked george, his teeth chattering with the cold. "if we find a cavern," advised thede, "we're likely to find a couple of bears packed away in it!" "i don't care if there are a hundred bears!" grumbled george. "i'll freeze to death if i stay out in this snow another minute!" after a long and difficult climb the boys came to a ledge of rock and crawled into a small opening revealed by the searchlight. "the beds are all full tonight, i guess," george said shivering. "i hear bruin kicking about being disturbed." chapter v a boy scout trick "where's that fool boy going now?" asked tommy as george, in pursuit of the spy, dashed into the thicket. "what did he see back here that caused him to let out a yell like that?" asked sandy. "i don't believe he saw anything!" will declared. "he just thought he'd give us a good scare by pretending he'd bumped into a band of indians, or something like that." the boys looked over the ground in the rear of the tent, and finally tommy came to the place where the spy had punctured the canvas. "who made this hole in the tent?" he asked. the boys gathered around the opening through which the spy had inspected the interior of the tent, and looked at each other with wonder expressed on their faces. tommy was first to speak. "george must have caught a man here looking in," he said. "that's why he disappeared so suddenly," will argued. "yes, he was chasing the peeping tom," sandy agreed. "i wish we knew the direction they took," will mused. "the boy may get into serious trouble, chasing off into the forest along in the night. he should have told us of his discovery so one of us could have gone with him! we may be able to find him yet." "aw, he'll come back before long!" tommy argued. "he can't make any headway out there in the underbrush, and the fellow who was here will probably run away from him before he gets three rods from the tent." "i hope so!" answered will. "but what was that gink prowling around the tent for?" asked sandy. "that must have been the same fellow we heard using the paddle a short time ago. if it is, he's mighty liberal with his bullets!" "i'm anxious about that boy," will broke in. "i wish he'd come back!" "yes, this isn't a very desirable country to be lost in in the night!" tommy admitted. "he ought not to have gone away." "what do you make of this gink prowling around our tent?" asked sandy. "do you think he's doing it out of curiosity, or because he has an inkling of what we're up here after?" "huh! how would any one away off up here know anything about the little brass god?" demanded tommy. "look here," will argued. "the little brass god is stolen from this house on drexel boulevard. enclosed in a cavity in the toy is a will disposing of several million dollars worth of property. the little brass god is finally sold to a pawn-broker, who in turn disposes of it to a trapper known to belong in the hudson bay district." "that's a fair statement," answered tommy. "now, mr. horton, attorney for the man who is in quest of the lost will, and sigsbee, the man interested in probating the previous will, both know of the final disposition of the little brass god. at least, frederick tupper knows that it was taken from the pawn shop by a hudson bay trapper, and it is believed that sigsbee possesses the same information." "of course, they both know about it," agreed sandy. "now, why shouldn't they both send people up here in quest of the little brass god?" will continued. "but suppose this man sigsbee doesn't know anything about the will being in the belly of the little brass god?" suggested tommy. "we believe he does know all about it!" said will. "and do you believe, too, that he hired a burglar to go and steal the little brass god?" asked sandy. "as i said before," will answered, "we don't know anything about that. the little brass god may have been taken by a burglar who was simply in quest of plunder. the whole thing resolves itself into this: if the really, truly burglar stole the toy and sold it to the pawn-broker, the will is in the ugly little chap's belly. if sigsbee hired the burglar he took the will out before the trinket was sold at the pawn-shop. in that case, he would be the last one to send an expedition up here to retrieve the toy. and so you see," will continued, "that we don't know anything about it." "well it's funny that gink should come prowling around our tents on the first night of our arrival!" tommy exclaimed. "according to all accounts, he should have come sneaking into camp looking for a drink of brandy. the fact that he ran away when discovered shows that he wasn't here for any honest purpose." "well, what are we going to do?" demanded sandy. "let's give the little brass god a rest long enough to make up our minds about george." "we can't do anything until morning," will interposed. "how do you know we can't?" demanded tommy. "because it's dark, and because we know nothing about the country," replied will. the boys sat before the fire until midnight listening for the return of their chum. when it began to snow they reluctantly decided that george had crawled into some temporary shelter for the night and would not think of trying to make his way home through the storm. "you boys go to bed now," will advised, "and i'll sit up and keep watch. if you hear me firing how and then, don't think the camp's been attacked. george may be lost in the woods, and i'll be doing that to give him the right direction." "we should have done that before," tommy suggested. "well, get to bed," will urged, "and i'll run the camp till morning." tommy and sandy crawled into the tent which stood nearest to the great campfire and cuddled up in the warm blankets. "do you believe will will stay in camp until morning?" asked tommy. "of course i don't," was the reply. "he'll wait until we're asleep, and then he'll go prowling around the camp in search of george." "that's just about what he'll do." "what's your idea, then?" asked sandy. "well," tommy whispered, "george may be out in the snow somewhere, and it won't take us very long to circle about the camp just to make sure." "i got you!" replied sandy. "we'll get out under the back wall, and take a little trip with our searchlights." half an hour later, when will, heavily wrapped, glanced in at the tent preparatory to going out on his quiet search for the missing chum, ho saw that the blankets were empty. "the little scamps?" he chuckled. "they've beaten me to it!" in the meantime, tommy and sandy were making their way through the wilderness traveling in the narrow light provided by the electrics. by this time the snow was quite deep, and the wind appeared to be rising every minute. "we never can get home in this storm if we once lose sight of the campfire," tommy said as the two huddled together in the lee of a big tree. "that's a fact!" sandy admitted. "so i guess we'd better be poking along. which way is the fire?" "why, it ought to be right over there!" replied tommy doubtfully. "over where?" demanded sandy, with a note of alarm in his voice. "blessed if i know!" declared tommy, sitting flat down in the snow. the boys walked round and round the tree and made little excursions in every direction without getting a single trace of the campfire. "i guess we've gone and done it now!" tommy grunted. "aw, we can find our way back all right enough!" sandy declared. "we came north when we left the camp, didn't we?" "guess we did," replied tommy, his teeth rattling with the cold. "then all we've got to do is to follow the wind and we'll strike the tents. that's some boy scout forestry sense, isn't it?" "we'll wait until we see whether it brings us back to camp or not," replied tommy. "if it does, it's all right; if it doesn't, it's all wrong." had the boys proceeded straight north on leaving the camp, they would have doubtless returned to the lighted zone by keeping with the wind, if the wind had not shifted to the west soon after their departure from the camp. they walked for what seemed to them to be hours. in fact, more than once they glanced about hoping to get their direction from a showing of daylight in the sky. "i don't believe it ever will be daylight again," grumbled sandy, "and i move we stop right here and build a big fire." "can we build a fire in all this ruck?" asked tommy. "you bet we can!" was the answer. "what are we boy scouts good for if we can't build a fire in a storm?" they cleared a little space in the snow and tommy brought a handful of dry bark. shielding the flickering blaze as much as possible, the boy applied the match he had struck to the bark. the fire which resulted could have been started in a teacup. about this he built a skeleton tent of bits of dry soft wood from six to nine inches in length. his fire was now as large as an ordinary kettle. next, the boys threw larger boughs on the blaze, and finally succeeded in surrounding it by large logs. "there's one thing about it," tommy declared as they warmed their hands over the blaze, "there won't any wild animals take a bite out of us as long as we keep near this fire!" "i wish george would come poking along in," sandy commented. "i believe i'll go out in the thicket after i get warm and see if he isn't somewhere in this vicinity. i thought i heard a call over there just a moment ago." "listen, then," tommy advised. "if some one called, we're likely to hear a repetition of the sound." sure enough, the call came again as the boys huddled over the fire. it came down with the wind and seemed to be rapidly drawing nearer. "that sounds to me like a boy's voice," sandy suggested. "sounds more like a half-breed to me!" tommy answered. "he's stopped coming on, anyway." sandy exclaimed in a moment. "perhaps he's tumbled down in the snow!" tommy argued. "in that case, we'd better be getting out where he is," said sandy. the boys both left the fire and darted out into the darkness, listening for the call but hearing only the roaring of the wind. chapter vi the cave op the two bears "bears?" exclaimed george, as the lads listened in front of the cave, "do you think there are polar bears up here? i think it's cold enough for the big white variety." "put your head inside the cave," thede suggested, "and you won't be wondering whether there are any bears here." george did as requested, and soon the warm animal odor noticeable in the various zoos of the country attacked his nostrils. "what kind of bears are they?" he asked. "i've heard pierre say there were black and brown bears," replied thede. "you know i haven't been in here only a few days." "i wonder if they'll bite." "stick your arm in there and find out," thede answered. "i don't believe they'll jump on us if we keep our light going," george argued. "anyway," he went on, "we've got to get somewhere out of this wind and snow. if we don't, we'll freeze to death!" very slowly and cautiously the boys made their way into the cavern. it was a small place, not more than six feet in width and twice that in depth, and the electric revealed about all there was inside. two black huddles of fur showed under the finger of light, and as the boys crept on, george with his automatic ready for use, two pair of surly, pig-like eyes became visible. the animals stirred restlessly as the boys advanced and finally began edging toward one side of the cave, as if seeking a way out. "get out of the entrance," advised george as soon as both animals were on their feet, "and we'll give them a chance to escape." this plan was followed, and, much to the delight of the youngsters, the animals sprang outside and for a moment disappeared in the darkness. "it's a shame to turn the poor creatures out in this storm!" george declared. "perhaps they were just entering upon their long winter's sleep." "we didn't order them out!" grinned thede. "it amounts to the same thing," george responded. "they've gone away, and are likely to freeze to death." "if you think they've gone away," thede replied, "just turn your light toward the entrance. they're not going to give up their warm nest without a scrap, and i can't say that i blame them for it." it was considerably warmer in the cave and, out of the tempest, the boys were quite comfortable in their thick clothing. they huddled together at the far end of the cavern, and george kept the light turned, on the two bears, who were now growling savagely. "why don't you shoot?" asked thede. "what's the use of shooting until i have to?" demanded george. "they can come in here if they want to, if they'll only behave themselves." "if they try to come in here," declared thede, "i'll go up in the air about nine hundred feet." although they did not attempt to re-enter the cavern, the bears kept close to the entrance. it was clear that only the light of the electric kept them from attacking the boys. "they'll stay right there till morning," exclaimed thede, "and we'll have to shoot them anyway before we can get out. they are kicking themselves now," he continued with a grin, "because they let us in here without a battle. i wish we understood bear talk so that we could learn what they're saying to each other." "nothing very complimentary to us," george declared. as the night advanced it grew colder and the boys moved about in quest of a more sheltered corner. they could still hear the bears moving about outside, but paid no attention to them. "look here," george said presently, as the search-light rested for a moment on a break in the rock. "i wouldn't wonder at all if we could get further under the hill. there's an opening here which looks wide enough for us to crawl through." "it's a wonder the bears didn't find it then," commented thede. "i'm going to see whether i can get through it or not," george insisted. "it may be a warmer corner. anyway, it'll give us exercise, and that's what we need about this time." throwing the spear of light into the crevice, the boy glanced keenly about. the walls of the opening seemed to be smooth, and to extend only a short distance. just below where the walls broke he could see the brown floor of another cavern." "i guess it's all right," he said to thede. "you take the light and hold it down and i'll scramble in. may as well break my neck as to freeze to death." "let me take your hand, then," advised thede, "so yon can be pulled back if you don't like the looks of the new furnished room." "i'd like to be in a furnished room on washington boulevard just this minute," george broke in. "i wouldn't mind a good box in gamblers' alley," said thede. when all was ready thede gave one hand to george and lowered him down to the full length of both arms. "all right!" george cried in a moment, "i can feel my toes touching the rock. let go! you drop down now, and i'll steady you when you light." both boys were soon in the lower cavern and a moment following their arrival there, they heard the claws of the bears rattling on the rocks above. "i've heard pierre tell about caves in this range of hills," thede said, "but i never knew that they had caves two stories high." as the boy ceased speaking, george suddenly shut off his flash light and laid a hand on the other's arm. "what's that for -----" "keep still!" whispered george. "do you see anything?" "looks to me like a light," the other replied. "looks like a fire, doesn't it?" asked george. "it certainly is a fire and there's a man sitting in front of it." the fire showed at the end of a narrow passage, perhaps ten or twelve yards away. it was blazing vigorously, and the cavern in which it stood was well clouded with smoke. it was evident that the watcher by the fire was as yet unconscious of the approach of the two boys. "i wish we could get to that fire!" george said with a shiver. "and why not?" "i don't think he'd be hiding here if he was keeping open house," replied george. "he may be an outlaw hiding from the police. and in that case he wouldn't relish the idea of his underground retreat being discovered, even by two boys who want to get warm." "anyway," thede insisted, "i'm going to crawl up close and see what i can find out. that fire looks good to me." the boys advanced cautiously, with george a little in advance. the man at the fire sat with his chin on his breast as if in sound sleep. "i don't believe he'd say anything if we walked right in on him," thede declared. "if he does, we can hold a gun on him and invite him to a more friendly mood." the man did not move as the boys came on, and george was about to call out to him when thede caught him by the shoulder. "don't you dare make a motion!" the boy whispered. "stand still where you are and look to the little shelf of rock on the other side of the fire." george looked, and his automatic and his searchlight almost clattered to the floor as his eyes rested on something which glittered like gold in the red light of the fire. he turned to thede, and there was a tremor in his voice as he whispered in his ear. "do you know what that is?" he asked. "i think i know what it is!" was the whispered reply. "it's the little brass god!" whispered george excitedly. "and i'm going to sneak over there and lay my hands on it before that fellow wakes up!" "you never can do it!" advised thede. "i've just got to do it!" "if that is the real little brass god, how did it ever get here?" whispered thede. "strangest thing i ever heard of." "gee whiz!" whispered george. "we mustn't stand around wondering how it got here. the thing for us to do right now is to get possession of it. i believe i can get over there without waking that fellow up." "let me take your gun, then," thede advised, "and if he moves or makes any funny breaks, i'll keep him under cover!" george handed his gun over to the boy without a word and moved on toward the fire. it was clear that the man was asleep, his chin resting on his breast, his shoulders supported by a wall of rock. the thing which glittered on the ledge, now almost within reaching distance, was unquestionably the little brass god, the quest of which had brought the boys into the hudson bay country. george had never set eyes on the toy, but there was no mistaking the crossed legs, the folded arms, the paunchy stomach, and the misshapen, leering face. the boy heard a soft warning whispered from the opposite side of the room and turned his eyes from a greedy contemplation of the little brass god to the figure of the man crouching before the blaze. the fellow had lifted his head, and now sat staring at the boy with a dumb wonder in his eyes. while the boy looked the expression changed from wonder to alarm, from alarm to anger, and then the doubled-up figure straightened and sprang forward. the boy heard a pistol shot, sensed the acrid smell of powder smoke, felt a muscular hand grasp the wrist which was extended toward the shelf of rock, and then a million stars seemed to be falling from the heavens. there was a roar as of an ocean beating against breakers, and then a lull during which he heard another pistol shot. when the boy regained consciousness, daylight was creeping into the cavern through an opening much lower down than the one by which the boys had entered the upper cavern. the earth outside was covered with a thick mat of snow, and the trees and shrubs of the forest were bending beneath burdens of pure white. the fire had burned to ashes and it was miserably cold. the little brass god was gone! chapter vii an empty cavern perhaps a dozen yards from the fire, tommy stumbled at a figure over which the falling snow was fast drifting. he called out to sandy, who was only a short distance away, and the two lifted the unconscious form in their arms and staggered toward the fire. "why, it's nothing but a kid!" sandy exclaimed. "don't you know who it is?" demanded tommy. "never saw him before!" was the reply. "it's thede carson!" "not that little monkey of a thede carson who's always getting the beaver patrol into trouble?" demanded sandy. "what would he be doing up here? i guess you're losing the sense of sight." "sure, it's thede carson," insisted tommy. "well, i guess he's about all in," sandy volunteered. "get busy then, with your first aid," tommy ordered. "get some of his clothes off and get to work with snow, or his fingers and toes will drop off as soon as they thaw out." "i don't believe it's the cold so much as it is exhaustion," sandy ventured. "he seems to have been running a whole lot, for he's still panting, i reckon he just dropped down when he couldn't run any further." "i guess that's about right," tommy admitted. "he doesn't seem to be very cold. it may be that wound on his head," the lad added, pointing to a long gash in the scalp which, judging from the state of the lad's clothing, had bled very freely. "what do you think of coming away up here in the hudson bay country and picking a member of the beaver patrol right out of the woods?" demanded sandy. "we seem to find boy scouts wherever we go." the boys worked over the exhausted lad some moments, and then he opened his eyes. "now for the love of mike!" exclaimed tommy, "don't look around and say 'where am i?' the correct thing to say in these modern days is 'vot iss?' do you get me, thede?" "why, it's tommy!" said the boy. "betcher life!" returned tommy. "did you run all the way up here from clark street? or did you come up in an aeroplane?" thede sat up and looked about for the tents and the boats. "why, this isn't the camp!" he said. "we haven't got any more camp than a rabbit!" declared sandy. "we're lost! we've got to wait till morning to find our way back." "it's a good thing you're lost!" exclaimed thede. "i don't think i could have held out until i reached the camp. you see," he went on with a slight shudder at the recollection of his experiences, "i left george a long distance off." "left george?" repeated tommy. "i couldn't bring him with me," answered thede, with a slow smile, "where did you leave him?" demanded tommy. "why didn't he come with you?" asked sandy. "because," replied thede, "just as he was reaching up to the wall of the cavern to take hold of the little brass god, he got a tunk on the coco that put him out for the count." "what do you know about the little brass god?" asked tommy. "i've seen it!" answered thede. "it sat up on a shelf on the face of the wall, with its legs crossed, and its arms folded, and its wicked face telling me where i could go whether i wanted to or not." "i guess something's gone to your head!" declared sandy. "but i'll tell you we found the little brass god!" declared thede. "george came to the cabin, and we started out to find the camp, and got lost in the storm, and brought up in a cave inhabited by two bears." sandy regarded tommy significantly. "and we found a basement floor to the cavern, and went down the elevator and found a man asleep in front of a fire with the little brass god winking at him. funny fellow, that little brass god!" "you for the foolish house!" cried tommy. "honest, boys!" thede declared. "george came to the cabin and i started home with him after pierre left us alone together. the storm chased us into a cave, just as i told you, and we kept on going until we came to the place where the little brass god sat up on the wall making faces at a man asleep at the fire.'" "go on!" exclaimed tommy, at last understanding that the boy was in his right mind. "tell us about it!" "and george said he would get the little brass god without waking the man up. so he gave me his gun, and i was to shoot in case the man made any trouble. then, just as george was reaching for the little brass god, the man woke up and shot at him, then the man shot at me, and i shot at him, and then he got my gun away from me and i ran out to find you." "and you left george there in the cavern?" asked sandy. "i just had to!" was the reply. "i couldn't do anything with that giant of a half-breed, and i didn't have a gun and so i ducked. "can you take us back to that cavern now?" asked tommy. "sure i can," was the reply. "oughtn't we to let will know where we are?" asked sandy. tommy looked at thede questioningly. "can you tell us how to find the cavern?" he asked in a moment. "what for?" demanded the boy. "i'm going to take you where it is." "you're about all in," declared sandy, "and you ought to go to camp and rest up and tell will where we've gone." "you couldn't find this cave in a thousand years," declared thede. while the boys talked the wind died down, and the snow ceased falling. presently a mist of daylight crept into the forest and then the boys crept out on their journey toward into ridge of hills. "wasn't that a dream about your seeing the little brass god?" asked tommy as they walked along. "sure not," was the reply, "we both saw it, didn't we?" "well, whoever told you anything about the little brass god?" demanded sandy. "how did you know there was a brass god?" "old finklebaum told me. he said he'd give me a hundred dollars if i found it, so i started in to earn that mazuma." in as few words as possible the boy repeated the story he had told george on the previous evening. "i guess you boys came up here looking for the little brass god, too, didn't you?" the boy asked, shrewdly, after a moment's hesitation. "we came up to hunt and fish!" laughed tommy. "to hunt for the little brass god and fish for the man who bought it of the pawnbroker, i guess," laughed thede. "you boys never came clear up here just to chase through the snow after game when there's plenty of shooting three hundred miles to the south." "you say you think that pierre is the man who bought the little brass god of the pawnbroker?" asked sandy, as the boys stopped for a moment to rest. "is that the reason you followed him here?" "that's the reason!" was the reply. "he seemed perfectly willing to have you come?" "he welcomed me like a long lost brother!" "then it's a hundred to one shot pierre never got his hands on the little brass god! don't you see how suspicious he would have been if he had had the little brute in his possession?" "i didn't think of that!" replied thede. "look here," the boy continued, "i'd like to know what all this fuss is about, anyway. why should any one in his right mind give old finklebaum a thousand dollars or five thousand dollars, for that piece of brass? that's what gets me!" tommy and sandy looked at each other significantly but made no immediate reply. in a moment thede went on. "'spose this should be a little brass god stolen from some temple away out in the wilds of india. suppose a delegation of east indians should be sent here to get it. wouldn't they murder a score of men if they had to in order to get possession of it?" "they probably would," was the reply. after an hour's hard walking, the boys came to the foot of the ridge of hills and looked upward. thede pointed to the cavern where the two bears had been discovered. "there's where we went in," he explained, "but the cavern where the fire and the little brass god were is right under that one." "how're we going to get to it?" "if you want to take your chance on meeting the bears, you can drop down through the opening from the floor above." "but isn't there an opening to this lower cavern?" "sure there is! that's the one i ran out of! say," he continued, "that's the one we saw the man by the fire run out of, too. you can see the tracks of his moccasins in the snow. he must have left after the storm ceased. my tracks were filled." "in we go, then!" cried tommy, advancing lip the slight slope to the up of the cavern. "watch out for bears!" cried thede. chapter viii a trapper's treachery when will, watching at the camp, found that tommy and sandy had disappeared, he had no idea that they would remain more than an hour or so. the long night passed, however, and the boys did not return. when daylight came, will built up a roaring fire and began preparing breakfast. it was his idea at that time that the boys had come together in the forest about the time the snow began falling, and had sought in some deserted shack temporary protection from the storm. "they'll be back here in a short time, hungry as bears!" he thought. presently he heard some one advancing through the snow-covered thicket, and turned in that direction with an expectant smile. instead of his chums he saw a half-breed in leather jacket and leggins and a fur cap approaching. when the fellow reached the camp he made a quick and rather impertinent inspection of the tents before approaching the spot where the boy stood awaiting him. "good morning!" will said, not without a challenge in his voice. "where are the boys?" asked the visitor. "who are you?" demanded will. "pierre!" was the short reply. "why do you ask about the boys?" pierre explained in broken english that one of the boys who evidently belonged to the camp had coaxed his companion away. "who is your companion?" asked will, "and why do you come here looking for him? who was it that visited your cabin?" pierre laboriously explained what had taken place on the previous evening, and will listened with an anxious face. "and you left them there together, and when you returned they had disappeared? is that what you mean to say?" pierre nodded. "he coax my boy away," he said sullenly. "is this boy you speak of your son?" asked will. "chicago boy!" was the reply. "why don't you go on and tell me all about the boy and about yourself?" inquired will. "what's the use of standing there grunting and trying to make me understand nods and scowls?" pierre explained that he had been in chicago to see the sights, had fallen in with thede, and agreed to bring him into the forest with him. his explanation was not very clear as he talked more mongrel french than english, so will was not very well informed at the end of the recital. pierre looked suspicious as well as disappointed. "well," will explained to the half-breed after a moment's deliberation, "i suppose you'll turn in now and help me find the boys!" pierre nodded and pointed toward the campfire. "build him big!" he said. "boys come cold." accepting the hint, will piled great logs on the fire while the half-breed looked sullenly on. the boy then dressed himself in his warmest clothing and the two set out together. "have you any idea which way to go?" asked the boy. pierre pointed away to the south. "wind blow that way," he said. "they follow the wind." numerous times, as the two tramped through the snow together, will caught the half-breed looking in his direction with eyes of hate. after proceeding some distance, he fell in behind pierre, and so the two traveled through the wilderness, each suspicious and watchful of the other. after walking an hour or more they came to a place where tommy and sandy had built their fire on the previous night. there the half-breed read the story written upon the snow like a book. pointing here and there, he explained to will that two boys had been caught in the storm and had built a fire. he showed, too, that a third boy had come plunging through the snow, nearly circled the camp, and came back toward the fire from the north. then he showed the tracks of three heading off to the south. "do you think one of those boys was your companion?" asked will. the half-breed answered that he was sure of it. "then that leaves one of the boys still unaccounted for," will mused. "it looks to me," he went on, "as if your friend and george started away together and got lost. then your boy came back and found tommy and sandy and started away with them toward the place where he had left george. is that the way you look at it?" the half-breed grunted some sullen reply, and the two walked on together following the trail which led toward the range of hills. instead of directly following the trail left by the boys, however, pierre turned frequently to left and right, explaining that if enemies were about it was a trail which would be watched. they came to the cavern at last, and stood by the dying embers of the fire. there was no one in sight. will examined the sloping surface of snow in front and found no tracks leading outward. "they must be in here somewhere!" he exclaimed. pierre nodded his fur cap vigorously, and the two began a careful examination of the underground place. they found many little caves opening from the larger one, but no trace of the boys. after a time a shout from pierre drew will to his side. the fellow was peering into a crevice, in the rocky wall which seemed to lead for some distance under the hill. "do you think they are hidden in there?" asked the boy. pierre explained in his barely understandable dialect that he thought the boys might have escaped into the inner cavern and started to make their way out in another direction. "then i'll go in after them," will decided. before entering he called shrilly into the cavern, but only the echoes came back to him. by considerable squeezing, he managed to make his way through the opening. he then found himself in a passage-like place, sloping upward. as he threw his light about the interior, he heard a chuckle in the outer chamber where he had left pierre. he turned in time to see the half-breed rolling great stones against the mouth of the narrow opening by means of which he had entered. "hah!" sneered pierre. "you bring me trouble!" "what are you doing that for?" demanded will. the half-breed peered into the opening with eyes that resembled those of a snake, so full of malice and hatred were they. "you steal my boy!" he said. "so this is a trap, is it?" will demanded. the half-breed answered by a chuckle of laughter." "if you don't take those stones away," will threatened, "i'll fill you full of lead when i do get out!" the half-breed patted his gun stock significantly, but made no reply. the boy heard him rolling rocks along the cavern floor and against the opening, and turned away hoping to find some other means of egress. it was clear to him that the half-breed thoroughly understood the situation in the hills. he had no doubt that he had planned to bring him there for the purpose which had developed. he understood, too, that if there were other openings to the cavern, pierre knew where they were, and would block them as soon as he had effectually blocked the one by which entrance had been effected. it was cold and damp in that underground place, but the perspiration actually broke out on the boy's brow as he considered the fate which might await him in that dreary place of detention. he had, of course, no means of knowing the whereabouts of any of his chums. in fact, it seemed to him possible that they, too, had been inveigled into a trap similar to the one which had been set for himself. the motive for this brutal action on the part of the half-breed was, of course, entirely unknown to the boy. it will be remembered that he knew nothing whatever of thede's suspicions that pierre actually had the little brass god in his possession. it was black as ink in the passage, but the boy's flashlight had recently been supplied with a new battery, and he knew that it would not fail for many hours, so he walked along with confidence. in perhaps a quarter of an hour the boy came to a blank wall. there appeared to be no way in which the journey could be extended under the hills. the nearest lateral passage was some distance back. realizing that no time should be lost, the lad hastened thither and advanced to the south end of the cross passage. here, too, he came upon a blank wall. while he stood listening a heavy, rumbling voice came to his ears. there were either crevices in that rocky bulkhead or the wall was very thin. presently the heavy voice ceased speaking, and then a lighter tone was heard. at first will could not distinguish the words used, but directly his heart almost bounded into his throat as he listened to tommy's voice saying: "i'll break your crust, you old stiff, if you come near me!" so the boys were still in a position to defend themselves! will beat frantically on the wall and threw his light hither and yon in search of some opening through which his voice might be heard. directly there came an answering sound from the other side. chapter ix two hungry bears the little brass god was gone! george, still lying upon the floor of the cavern, stretched his legs and arms, to see if he was all there, as he mentally commented. after a time he arose to his feet, clinging desperately to the wall because of his weakness, and called to thede, who, as the reader knows, had left hours before, in search of the injured lad's chums. there came only echoes in reply to his shouts. there was a pile of wood near at hand and, gathering numerous dry fagots, the boy staggered dizzily toward the heap of ashes in the center of the cave. it seemed to him that the first thing to do was to get warm. he was hungry, too, but warmth was the important thing just then. a few red coals still remained, and a blaze soon grew under the boy's careful hands. in a short time there was a roaring fire. after thawing the chill out of his bones, the boy began looking around for his friend of the night before. he looked at his watch and noted that it was eight o'clock. his revolver was gone but his search-light was still in his pocket. he remembered in a moment that he had handed his revolver to thede before starting to cross the light zone in the center of the cavern. whatever had taken place during his hours of unconsciousness, it was evident that he had not been robbed. it seemed to the boy, as he stood looking through the opening which gave a view of the forest to the north, that he had lain on the hard floor of the cavern for countless aeons. he did not remember what had caused the wound on his head. he only knew that he had been seized with a sudden dizziness and had fallen, after hearing pistol shots. standing before the fire with the cheerful light of the blaze on one side and the dazzling light of the sun on the snow on the other side, the uncanny incidents of the night before seemed like a dream to the boy. he even found himself wondering whether he had actually caught sight of the little brass god, leering down upon the watcher from the wall. then he recollected that thede had first called his attention to the ugly image whose evil eyes seemed to take on malevolent expressions in the light of the dancing flames. "it must be all true, then," he concluded. "the man by the fire, the little brass god on the shelf, the pistol shots, and then a blank." he wondered where thede had gone, and why he had deserted him. "that's the strangest part of it all," the lad mused. "i had an idea that the boy would stand by me if i got into trouble, and here he runs away, leaving me lying unconscious in the freezing atmosphere of this desolate old cavern. i didn't think it of him!" it occurred to george as he studied over the puzzle that thede might not have been as innocent and loyal as he had pretended to be. he might have been merely an instrument in the hands of a cunning man. "at any rate," the boy pondered, "we have found the little brass god!" he had not, of course, secured possession of it, but he had learned definitely that it was in that part of the country. he wondered as to the identity of the man who sat watching the fire. the light had been dim, and it might have been pierre for all he knew. or it might have been an accomplice of the tricky trapper. "now, i wonder how i'm going to get back to camp," the boy mused as he piled on more wood and spread his hands to the cheerful warmth of the fire. "judging from the time it took us to get here, it must be ten or twelve miles back to the camp." "the boys will think i've deserted them, i guess," he added. "if they knew how hungry i am just at this minute, they'd send out a relief expedition!" while the boy warmed himself before the fire a series of growls came from the entrance to the cavern, and two black bears looked in upon him. "now i wonder if you're the same disreputable citizens that tried to make a free lunch counter of me last night?" george mused. "i presume you're hungry, all right, but i'd rather not be the person to do the feeding this morning. you look too fierce for me, both of you." the smell of blood evidently excited the bears to unusual feats of courage, for they entered the mouth of the cavern and stood growling and showing their teeth within a short distance of where george stood. only for the great blaze which now leaped almost to the roof of the cavern, the boy would have been attacked at once. he glanced at the rapidly decreasing pile of wood, and wondered what would take place as soon as the fire had died down. he had no weapon with which to defend himself. for at least a quarter of an hour the bears and the lad gazed at each other through the red light of the fire. the bears were gradually moving forward, and every time the lad laid a stick of wood on the blaze they seemed to understand more fully that his defense was weakening. george thought he had never seen wood burn away so fast. the blaze seemed to melt it as boiling water melts ice. already the blaze was dropping lower, and the pile of wood was almost gone. the bears sniffed at the blood stains where the boy had lain on the floor, and turned fierce eyes on the figure by the fire. george estimated that his wood might last ten minutes longer. then there would be a rush, a crunching of bones and all would be over. a rifle shot sounded from the outside, and one of the bears dropped to the rocky floor, struggled spasmodically for a moment, and then straightened out and lay still. the next instant another shot, equally accurate, came and the second bear was dead in a moment. the boy waited eagerly for the appearance of the man who had done the shooting. he had no idea who the man might be, and was not quite certain that the fellow had not taken from him one danger only to place him in another. still, he looked eagerly forward to his appearance. when the man appeared, a smoking double-barreled rifle in his hand, george saw a tall, ungainly figure with long legs, a long, slim body, very high cheek bones, and rather stern and uncompromising blue eyes. the newcomer was dressed in the leather jacket usually worn by trappers in that district, leather leggins, moccasins, and fur cap. a belt of red leather, probably colored and tanned by some indian process, was drawn tightly about his waist. there were gold rings in his ears which swung an inch down on his brown cheeks. "hello, sonny!" the man said, advancing into the cavern, standing the butt of his rifle on the rock, and leaning on the barrel. "say," the boy almost shouted, springing forward and extending his hand, "that's about the best shooting i've seen in a year!" "the place to hit a bear," the new-comer replied, "is in the neck, right about where the spinal cord starts to crawl under the skull." "it's a good thing you came along just as you did," george stated. "i can't begin to tell you how grateful i am, and so you'll have to take that for granted. you saved my life!" "i'm antoine," the other said, in a moment, after a casual survey of the boy. "i'm a hunter and trapper. i saw the bears looking in, and knew from the smoke coining out that there was a human being in here, too. knowing that bears and humans don't mix remarkably well, i came in, too. that's all there is to it!" "i guess they would have mixed with me all right in about a minute," george said with a smile. "i had about abandoned hope!" "how'd you get here?" asked antoine. george related the story of the adventures of the previous night, omitting, however, any mention of the little brass god. while he talked, there came to his mind an indistinct impression that the face of the man he had seen sitting by the fire was the face of the man who now stood before him. he put the thought away instantly, for he did not believe that the person who had left him on the floor of the cavern to die of cold and exposure, or to be devoured by wild beasts, could be the same who had so opportunely rescued him from death. "you must be hungry, i take it," antoine said, after the boy bad concluded his recital. "boys usually are hungry." "you bet i'm hungry!" george replied. antoine glanced smilingly about at the two bears lying on the floor. "can you cook bear steak?" he asked. "can i?" repeated george. antoine pointed to the boy scout medals on the lad's coat sleeve. "you have the stalker and pioneer medals," he said. "you ought to know something about forestry." "how do you know what they are?" smiled george. "oh," was the hesitating reply, "i know quite a lot about boy scout work and training. fine lot of fellows, those boy scouts!" "right you are!" declared george. antoine now drew forth a hunting knife which seemed to be as keen as a razor and began removing the skins from the dead animals. he worked swiftly and skillfully, and in a short time the making of two fine black bear rugs were laying in the sun outside. "now," the man said, "you get busy with that steak over the coals, and i'll tote in more wood. you don't seem quite up to carrying heavy loads yet. that must be a bad wound." "i think i must have lost considerable blood," george answered. after the steak was nicely broiled, antoine brought water from a nearby stream, and the boy's head was carefully and rather skillfully attended to. "and now," said antoine, "we'll go to my own home, which isn't far away." without a word the boy followed the hunter through the deep snow which lay on the slope until they came to an opening in the rock. entering, the boy found a very comfortable cavern, almost completely lined with fur. there was a chimney-like crevice in the ceiling which permitted the escape of smoke and foul air. both inside and outside the entrance were great stones by which the place might be sealed up from either side. "quite a cozy nest!" george ventured, and antoine nodded. "we'll celebrate your arrival with a cup of good strong tea," he said. the tea was brewed and drank. then the trapper's face began to assume grotesque forms. the boy's head swam dizzily. he caught a cynical smile in antoine's eyes and dropped back into a drugged and dreamless sleep! chapter x boys in a tight place "who's there?" asked tommy's voice, as will beat frantically against the rocky bulkhead against which he stood. "how do i get in there?" asked will. "go around to the entrance and shoot up this half-breed!" advised sandy. "he's got us cornered!" "he's got me cornered, too!" shouted will. "then i guess he's got the high hand," tommy answered back. "say," thede's voice exclaimed, "the rock at the end of that passage isn't more than a foot thick and it's full of cracks, at that. if you had a couple of big whinnicks, you could smash it down." "i can find the whinnicks all right!" answered will. "say!" cried sandy, "you want to hurry with those whinnicks, for pierre is almost standing on his head, threatening to shoot if you try to break through." will collected a number of heavy stones which had fallen from the walls and threw them with all his strength against the partition. the cracks widened, and slivers of brittle rock fell away. his efforts were greeted with cheers from the other side, and he redoubled them, with the result that in a short time, a passage between the two sections of the underground chambers had been made. when will stepped through the opening he saw pierre's fur cap sticking up above a barrier which reached almost to the ceiling. the long barrel of his rifle protruded threateningly into the room. "i guess," will proposed, "that we'd better get out of range of that gun. it doesn't look good to me." the boys crowded back into the chamber which will had recently left and looked at each other with inquiring eyes. pierre's harsh laugh came from the outer room. "you thieves!" he cried. "you die like bear in a trap." "what does the old idiot mean by that?" asked will. "search me!" replied tommy. "how did he ever get you in here?" "that's a pretty question to ask of us!" declared tommy. "how did he ever get you in here?" "he came to camp and volunteered to help find you run-away boys," replied will. "he brought me to the hills and tumbled boulders into the entrance to the cavern." "well, he came to our assistance almost as soon as we reached the hills in search of george," tommy grinned. "he was so mighty careful to get us into safe quarters that he led us into this rotten hole and fixed it so we couldn't get out!" "what's he doing it all for?" will asked, turning to tommy. "perhaps thede carson can tell you better than i can," replied tommy. "you remember thede carson, don't you, will?" "i seem to see a faint, resemblance in this lad to a boy i used to know as thede carson," will laughed. "he looks now, though, as if he had plenty to eat, and a good place to sleep!" "i have been eating regularly," grinned thede, "but there's no knowing whether i'll ever connect with another bear steak." "he came up here with pierre," sandy explained. "perhaps he can tell you what the half-breed is up to." "i don't know any more about it than you do!" replied thede. "he didn't seem to like the idea of my associating with george," the boy added with a wink at will, "and so he bunched us together and locked us up." while pierre gave vent to hoarse shouts of rage, and many entirely unnecessary and insulting taunts, the boys explained the events of the past night. the thing which startled will most was the story thede told about having caught sight of the little brass god. "are you sure?" he asked. "certain sure!" "it wasn't the firelight or anything like that?" "no, it was the little brass god!" "was it pierre who sat before the fire?" thede shook his head doubtfully. "i don't think so," he replied. "did you see the man's face?" "only in the shadows. his chin was on his breast at first, and then, when he looked up, he turned his head the other way." "well," will said, "we have at least located the ugly little beast." "did it look complete and whole?" asked tommy. "that's one question you didn't answer when you told me about having seen it." "just as good as new," replied thede. "if it had been opened at all, the trick was turned by a man who understood the combination." "and now about george?" will asked. "some one carried him away," thede declared. "that's the way i figure it out," tommy cut in. "he didn't walk away," tommy added, "because there were no tracks his size. there were plenty of other tracks, but none which could have been made by george's shoes." "aw, how do you know anything about that?" demanded sandy. "we saw a large moccasin track there, and how do we know that some man didn't walk behind george and step on all his tracks?" "or how do we know that some big chump didn't carry him away in his arms?" tommy admitted. "i never thought about the means that might have been used to conceal the kid's exit. you're the only real live sherlock holmes in this crowd," the boy added with a laugh. "then it's a cinch that some one carried him away," will decided. "of course it is!" sandy answered. "look here!" tommy said after a moment's reflection. "don't you boys remember how mussy that cavern looked. we were all so anxious to chase out and find george that we didn't pay much attention to the room, but i begin to remember now that it looked as if some one had shot wild game there and cooked meat over the fire." "i remember something about that now!" thede said. "and there was more blood on the floor than ever came from the little wound george received, according to the way you describe it," tommy went on. "and i'll bet if we'd hunted around the cavern, we'd have found bear steak and refuse hidden in some of those odd little nooks." "i guess that's right," thede declared. "now, about those moccasin tracks?" asked will. "let's go out and follow 'em up!" grinned sandy. "sure!" replied tommy. "just bite your way through these rocks and go out and follow 'em up." "it's only a question of time when we'll get out," will insisted. "that crazy half-breed can't keep us in here forever!" "if he keeps us in much longer," tommy declared, rubbing the waistband of his trousers affectionately, "he'll have me starved plumb to death!" "me, too!" sandy cut in. "i'm shy a breakfast myself!" "and i'm so hungry that i could eat snowballs!" thede said, with a grin. "i don't think i ever was so hungry!" "why don't you go outside and take a shot at that half-breed?" tommy asked, looking reproachfully at will. "did he get your guns away from you?" asked the boy. "you bet he did!" replied tommy. "how did he do it?" "he asked us to lay them aside while we crawled through a crack in the rock, and then grabbed them. oh, he's a foxy old fellow, that!" "well, we can't get out if we stand here talking all day," sandy ventured. "the longer we stay, the hungrier we'll get!" "what i'd like to know," will suggested, "is this: why did he do it? what spite has he against us?" "if you leave it to me," thede replied, "the little brass god has something to do with it! i don't know whether pierre has possession of the ugly little beast, or whether he is trying to get possession of it, but i believe he has a notion that we're trying to get bold of it." "well, that's a good guess," grinned tommy. during all this conversation the voice of the half-breed had been frequently heard, alternately cursing and coaxing the lads to enter the outer chamber where he could talk with them. "what do you want?" will asked finally. "come here!" was the answer. tommy stepped half-way through the opening and flashed his searchlight into the apartment beyond. "that is better!" shouted pierre, "so that's what you want?" demanded tommy. "you want light to shoot us by!" "send the other boy out!" demanded the half-breed. "send out the one i brought here!" "he wants you, will," tommy said. as the boy was about to step into the opening, thede caught him by the arm and drew him back. "just you wait a minute," he said. the lad placed a sliver of rock in will's hat and held it beyond the opening, at the same time letting the rays of the searchlight fall full upon it. "i know that half-breed better than you do," thede said, as he pushed the hat out further and further. when the hat was about as far out as the boy could send it without risking his own hands, a rifle shot rang through the cavern and the bullet cut its way through the exposed hat. "don't you see?" thede asked. "he knows you have a gun, and he figured that you'd fall into this chamber, and that we wouldn't dare reach over for it. he's a foxy old reprobate!" "what next?" demanded will. "you just wait a minute!" thede advised. "i think i know a way out! if we just could get in behind that half-breed and chuck him into the prison he prepared for us, it would be a mighty fine joke on him!" chapter xi the half-breed but the way out was not to lie through undiscovered passages! it was set by fate that it was to be over the dead body of the half-breed! while the boys discussed the possibility of finding an unguarded exit from the series of caverns, another shot sounded, and then they heard the rattle and crash of rocks falling upon an equally hard surface. "there's something doing, now, sure!" tommy exclaimed. "do you know of any other trappers in this section?" asked will, turning to thede. "it seems to me that that shot came from outside, and i don't believe pierre would be throwing down his own barricade." "i haven't seen anyone else here," replied the boy, "except the one we saw in front of the fire last night." "and that might have been pierre, for all we know!" tommy declared. "you don't know whether it was pierre or some one else," sandy observed, "so we don't know whether there's another hunter roaming around here or not! i hope there is, so far as i'm concerned!" the question was settled in a moment. rocks continued to fall from the barrier, and in a moment a voice called out: "who's there?" "four of us!" was the reply. "why don't you come out?" the boys detected a faint chuckle in the voice. "we're willing!" sandy answered. "well, come on, then!" sandy stuck his head out of the entrance and turned his searchlight on the new-comer. after a moment's inspection of the fellow, he stepped into the outer cavern. "you look pretty good to me," he said. ho was about to say more when he caught sight of the body of the half-breed lying just inside the cave. he turned white and for a moment felt dizzy and faint. he was unfamiliar with death in any form, and this snuffing out of a life seemed to him particularly horrible. in a moment the other boys came out and stood looking down upon the body. they were all deeply affected by what had taken place, particularly thede, who had never received anything but the kindest treatment from the half-breed until the arrival of the boy scouts. "it was my life or his," antoine explained. "did he shoot at you?" asked will, "we heard only one shot, save the one fired by pierre at my hat." "he didn't get an opportunity to fire!" antoine answered. "he had his gun leveled at my head when my bullet ended his life!" "now i wonder," thought will, "whether it was pierre who sat by the fire last night, and whether the secret of the little brass god dies with him! i wish there were some way of knowing." while these thoughts were passing through the brain of the boy, thede stood regarding the new-comer in a puzzled way. slowly the impression was forming in his mind that it was not pierre who had sat before the fire in the chamber where the little brass god had been displayed. "i suppose the next thing on the program," antoine observed, with a smile, "will be breakfast." "that suits me!" shouted tommy and sandy in a breath. "well," antoine answered, "i have plenty of bear meat, and a few canned provisions, and plenty of good, strong tea, so we'll adjourn to the dining room and partake." "have you seen anything of our chum?" asked will. antoine smiled, but made no reply. "look here," sandy said, pointing down to the moccasin tracks, as they emerged from the cavern and found themselves on the snowy slope, "this man has passed along here before this morning." "that's a fact!" will exclaimed. "so he must be the man who carried off george. if he is, why doesn't he say so?" "perhaps he wants to give us a surprise," observed tommy. it was only a short distance from the system of caverns where the boys had been imprisoned to the home of antoine, which has previously been described. when the boys entered, they looked eagerly around in the hope of finding george, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. "i thought sure you had found our chum in the cavern," thede suggested. "why, i thought you boys were all here!" replied antoine, still with that odd smile on his face. "but there is a boy who was wounded in the bear cavern last night," thede explained, "and i left him there while i went after his friends, and when i came back, he was gone. we thought sure you took him away." antoine made no reply. instead, he busied himself with breakfast. in his efforts in this direction tommy and sandy were not slow in joining, and in a short time beautifully broiled bear steaks were smoking on tin plates which antoine had taken from a cupboard fastened to the wall. a pot of tea was steeping over a fire built at one end of the cavern. the boys eyed this with interest. "we really ought to be going out in search of george," will finally said. "he may be suffering in the cold." "that's right!" declared tommy. "i'm going out just as soon as i finish eating! the lad was carried off by some one, all right, and be can't be far away!" "i wonder why we didn't get our revolvers away from that dead man?" asked sandy. "we surely ought to have them!" "i looked for them," will said quietly, "but they were not there!" "then he must have hidden them away somewhere," tommy declared. "we laid them down just before crawling through that hole." "you will doubtless find them in time," antoine suggested. "i should think the half-breed would have kept them pretty close," sandy observed. "you don't find automatics like those every day!" "it strikes me," antoine said, directly, "that you boys would better settle down for a little rest previous to going out after your chum." "aw, we don't need any rest!" declared tommy. "not while george is out in the cold!" sandy cut in. "just as you please," smiled antoine. "and now," he went on, "if you've all had plenty to eat, i'll bring on the tea. tea always tastes better to me when there is no food in my mouth to interfere with the flavor of it. i have a very fine brand here." "we've been waiting for that tea!" laughed tommy. "you can't lose tommy when it comes to anything good to eat or drink!" laughed sandy. "he's always on watch." antoine seemed a long time pouring the tea into the tin cups, which he had placed on the rough board which served as a table. as he bent over the teapot, a familiar sound caught will's ears and he turned his head aside to listen. "slap, slap, slap!" the boy nudged tommy who sat next to him with his elbow and called his attention to the sound. tommy almost sprang to his feet as he listened, but will forced him back with his hand. "slap, slap, slap!" came the signal again. sandy and thede were now sitting with knives and forks suspended in the air, listening wide-eyed to the sound. "that's the beaver call!" declared will in a whisper. "that means george!" tommy whispered back. "sure!" was the reply. "there's no one else to give the beaver call here. i wonder why the boy doesn't show up." in the meantime, antoine had been busy over the teapot and had not noticed what was going on at the table. "i'm fixing this tea up particularly strong," he said, facing the boys with a smile on his lips, "so you mustn't wonder if it tastes just a little bit bitter. there's nothing on earth will do a man who's been exposed to the weather more good than a strong cup of tea!" the man poured the decoction into the tin cups and brought out a couple of cans of condensed milk and plenty of sugar. "you see," he laughed, "that i have all the luxuries of an effete civilization! put in all the sugar you like, if you find the tea too strong. i have plenty of it!" the boys used the sugar and milk liberally, and will was about to lift his cup to his lips when the beaver call came again: "slap, slap, slap!" although the sounds were faint ones, they caught the attention of antoine, who, scowling, turned his face in the direction from which they had proceeded. in a minute, he arose. "what was that noise?" he asked. "did you hear a noise?" questioned will. "i thought i did!" replied the man. "perhaps i'd better take a look about the place. there may be intruders here!" as antoine moved about, his footsteps in a measure muffling the sounds which followed, the boys heard a low whisper. "don't drink! it's drugged!" wondering why the boy did not show himself, and able to understand his strange conduct only on the theory that he had been gagged and bound, will overturned his cup of tea by an awkward movement and sprang to his feet as the burning fluid came in contact with his clothing. simultaneously the boys all sprang from the table, taking care to upset the board upon which they had been eating. an angry exclamation came from antoine's lips as the carefully prepared tea was spilled to the floor. in a moment, however, his face broke into a smile. "too bad!" he said, "but accidents will happen. i'll make you some more! i'll have it ready in a moment." "we really would like some tea, notwithstanding our awkwardness," laughed will, listening as he spoke for some further sound from his chum. "drugged, drugged, drugged." the boys heard the whisper floating through the room. then they heard a gasp as of some one coming out of a sound sleep, and saw antoine springing toward a weapon lying on the floor. chapter xii a surprise at the cabin will got to the weapon first. with an exclamation of rage and anger, antoine drew his hunting knife from its sheath and lifted it threateningly. "keep back!" he said. "keep back, every one of you!" "throw down the knife, then!" tommy demanded. instead of throwing down the knife, antoine seemed preparing for a spring. it was evident that he had not yet abandoned the hope of gaining his revolver. the weapon which will had seized left his hand with a swift whirl, and the next moment the knife crashed from antoine's hand to the floor. the fellow's wrist had been broken. he fell back with a groan, but remained inactive only a second. "i'll come back!" he shouted, and disappeared through the entrance. tommy followed him out after having secured will's automatic, but he was nowhere in sight on the slope. the tracks in the deep snow showed that he had turned in the direction of the cavern which the boys had known to their cost that morning. "he's gone after our revolvers!" shouted tommy. "i'm afraid that's right," sandy answered, sticking his head cautiously out of the opening. "he's the man who hid them, probably!" "he'll be back directly," will prophesied, "so one of you would better remain on guard at the door. if he catches us all inside, we'll be in the same fix we were when he found us!" "i'd rather fight bears than a snake like that!" declared sandy. a faint voice was now heard calling from some unseen recess. "tommy, sandy, will!" george's voice called. leaving tommy at the door, the three boys passed around the chamber pounding on the walls with little rocks and listening eagerly for further words. at last they came to where a bear skin hung against a crevice. they drew it abide and saw george looking up at them. "vot iss?" asked sandy with a grin. "so you heard me in time!" the boy's speech was low and indistinct. "if we hadn't, we wouldn't be here," answered sandy. "that beaver call sounded good to us, too!" will observed. "what about the tea being drugged?" asked sandy. "it put me to sleep in a minute!" declared george. "my head whirled for a second, and then i was out for the count." "i guess he thought he had you laid away for a good long time," suggested sandy. "i reckon i woke up too soon for him," george answered with a faint smile. "i heard you boys talking, though you seemed a long way off, and at first i thought it was all a dream." "we got a feed in that dream, anyway!" laughed sandy. "i tried to cry out but couldn't," george continued. "my lips seemed frozen into numbness. i couldn't move hand or foot for a time, but finally i managed to clap the palms of my hands together in the beaver call, and that seemed to set the blood circulating through my veins." "what do you make of it?" asked sandy. "if you leave it to me," whispered george, still faint from loss of blood and the effects of the drug, "i dope it out that this man who calls himself antoine is in possession of the little brass god, and he has in some way discovered that we are here after it." "that's a fact!" exclaimed will, "you saw the little brass god, too, didn't you?" "i certainly did!" was the reply. "well, was the man who sat before the fire, the same man who gave you the drug?" will went on. "did you see him plainly?" "i've been wondering about that," george replied. "sometimes i think antoine is the man who sat before the fire with the ugly little brass god leering down at him. sometimes, i think it was pierre who sat there. i can't quite make up my mind." "if it was pierre," will said gravely, "the little brass god will probably never be found! the man who gave you the drugged drink shot the half-breed to death this morning." "then i hope it wasn't pierre who sat by the fire," sandy declared. "we've come a long way after that little brass god, and got into many a mix-up over it, so we've just got to take it back to chicago with us!" "now look here," will reasoned, "this antoine had some motive in putting us boys to sleep! we don't know what that motive was, but i think i'm giving a pretty good guess when i say that he wanted to prevent our interfering with the little brass god until he had arranged to make anything we might do in that line absolutely worthless." "that listens good to me, too," declared sandy. "the man wouldn't try to drug us unless he had some strong motive for doing so!" "we're all together once more, anyhow!" will observed, "and i think we'd better stay together. i never did like this idea of one boy sneaking away in the night and leaving the others to guess where he went to. it isn't safe to go wandering off alone in that way!" "yes, i'd talk about that if i were you!" laughed sandy. "you go wandering off by yourself more than any of the bunch!" "i think it's a good thing for you boys that i went wandering off alone this morning," will argued. "you didn't go wandering off alone!" thede cut in. "you had pierre with you? poor pierre!" he continued. "i'm sorry for him! i suppose we'll have to make some kind of a grave and give him decent burial!" "sure, we'll do that!" agreed will. "but what is puzzling me just now is this," the boy went on, "how are we going to get out of this hole with that antoine watching our every move? he'll shoot us down just as quick as he shot pierre if he gets a chance." the boys took short trips out of the cavern in quest of their enemy, but were unable to discover any traces of him other than the tracks in the snow. these led toward the chain of caverns which the boys had such good reason to remember. "i think we'd better make for the camp," will suggested in a moment. "why not move over to the cabin?" asked thede. "it will be much more comfortable there." "that's a good idea, too," will agreed, "except that we'd have to move all our camp equipage and provisions." "well, why not?" asked the boy. "we can rig up a drag and draw the stuff over in two or three loads." "we can if antoine isn't shooting at us every minute!" sandy cut in. "i don't believe antoine will trouble us," thede answered. "if he has the little brass god, he'll probably make off with it. he's got to go somewhere to get his injured wrist tended to, and my opinion is that he'll simply disappear from this neck of the woods until he makes up his mind that we have gone back to chicago." "i hope he won't go very far," will mused. "if he does, we'll lose the little brass god!" sandy argued. "i don't agree with thede," will said directly. "if the man has a secure hiding place in the hills, he'll manage to treat the injured wrist himself and remain hidden until he thinks we have left the country." "it's all a guess, anyway," sandy exclaimed, "and, whatever takes place, i vote for moving our truck over to the cabin and settling down there! we don't want to go back to chicago as soon as we find the little brass god, do we?" "we certainly do not!" shouted tommy, sticking his head into the narrow doorway. "i haven't had a chance to catch all the fish i want yet!" "well, we may as well move over to the cabin if that's the general opinion," agreed will. "i must admit that those tents look pretty thin to me. i didn't expect snow to fall so early." "besides," sandy urged, "if we live in the cabin, we'll be perfectly safe from attack. it would take dynamite to make a hole through those great logs, and the door itself is about a foot thick!" "all right," will replied. "if we find anything left when we get back to our camping place, we'll move it over to the cabin!" "the first thing to move will be george," laughed sandy. "oh, i can walk all right!" the invalid declared. "through this thick snow? i should say not! we've got to make up some kind of a sled and give you the first sleigh-ride of the season!" "and while we're about it, we can make a sled that we can move the tents and provisions on," suggested will. the boys had little to make a sled with, but they finally managed to bind saplings together with such cord as they had in their possession, and so manufacture a "drag" upon which the wounded boy could be carried back to camp. the lads were strongly tempted to help themselves to antoine's provisions before they left, but they finally decided not to do so, especially as they believed that they had plenty of their own. "he'll need them all before he gets rid of that sore wrist," sandy laughed. "he won't be in shape to do much hunting!" "now," thede observed, after wrapping george up in one of the bear robes taken from the wall of the cavern, "i've been thinking that the cabin is a great deal nearer the camp. of course i haven't been to the camp, but i've heard the location described and i'm positive that it is four or five miles further away from us than the cabin." "so you want to take george directly to the cabin, do you?" asked tommy, who still considered himself on guard and kept a constant lookout for antoine. "i don't see why we shouldn't do so," he added. "it isn't far out of the way," urged thede. "then here we go to it!" laughed tommy. "i'll chase on ahead and have a roaring fire built there before you get half way to it!" "oh, you will?" grinned thede. "i'd like to know how you're going to find it! george and i are the only ones in this party who can find the mysterious cabin in the bog!" "well, then," tommy admitted, "perhaps you'd better run on ahead and find it, while we come along with the kid!" it was a long and painful journey to the cabin, but it was finished at last. when the boys came to the edge of the swamp, however, they saw a great column of smoke rising from the chimney on the roof. "now do you suppose antoine beat us to it?" asked thede. chapter xiii a face at the window when the boys came nearer to the cabin, they saw many footprints dotting the level surface of the snow. they peered through the window which gave on the side of their approach, but could see no one moving about on the inside. save for the great fire blazing in the rudely-constructed fire-place, the cabin seemed to be absolutely deserted. "suppose you give me a boost through this window," thede suggested, as the boys at last stood close against the rear wall. "why not go around to the door?" george asked. "i might get a bullet in my coco when i turned the angle of the house!" replied thede. "there's no knowing who's around there." "that's a fact!" will agreed. "we've got one wounded boy on our hands now, and we don't care about having another." "look here," george cut in crossly, "if you think i'm too much trouble, you can just drop me down in the snow anywhere and i'll take care of myself!" "aw, cut it out!" roared tommy. the boys laughed so heartily at the idea of leaving their chum in the snow to care for himself that his mood instantly changed to one of apology. in a moment, he was all smiles again. "now, if you've got that little scrap settled, you can give me a boost through this window!" suggested thede. "sure the door's closed?" asked tommy. "closed and latched!" was the answer. the boys had some difficulty in removing the single sash which protected the opening, but the task was finally accomplished, and then thede crawled through into the cottage. the boys heard him drop lightly to the floor and then followed a long silence. presently sandy clambered up the log wall and peered inside. he saw thede standing close against the wall, gazing down at a great haunch of venison which lay on the floor. "if you want to keep that in good condition for eating, hang it out in the frost," laughed sandy. "we can't afford to lose that!" thede beckoned to him to enter, and the boy dropped down on the floor. "who brought it here?" he asked. "search me!" thede answered. "it might have been antoine." "aw, he couldn't kill a deer and bring in that big haunch with that lame wrist of his!" thede exclaimed. sandy looked out of the window and beckoned to his chums to enter. they gathered around the haunch of venison with amazement depicted on their faces. the fire still burned brightly, and it was evident that it had not been long since new fuel had been laid. "some one made us a present, i take it!" tommy grinned. "but who?" demanded will. "it's one of the mysteries of the british northwest territories!" replied sandy. "suppose," the boy continued, "we open the door and bring george in. he must be getting cold by this time!" "be careful when you open the door, then," thede warned. but there was no one at the door or, at first, within view of it. there were plenty of tracks, however, which appeared to have been recently made. george was carried into the cabin, and then sandy and tommy set out to trace some of the foot-prints to their destination. "i'm going to know where that fellow went," the former declared. "i have an idea he'll come back before long," sandy suggested. "he's built a nice fire and brought in plenty of venison, and won't go away and leave the cosy corner just yet." when the boys came to the edge of the morass, they saw a figure flitting into the underbrush on the other side. "i guess we've frightened him away!" tommy declared. "shall we follow him?" asked sandy. "aw, what's the use?" tommy questioned. "you said yourself, a little while ago, that he'd come back to get a bite of that haunch of venison." "and i believe he will!" answered the boy. george was made comfortable in one of the bunks, additional fuel brought in for the night, and then will, tommy and sandy set out to bring the supplies and tents from the camp. "suppose antoine, or some one else, should bring the little brass god to this cabin," george began. "i wish we knew whether it was antoine who sat before the fire last night," thede puzzled. "if i could just get my hands on that idiotic little plaything, i'd sneak back to old finklebaum and get his hundred dollars so quick it would make his head swim." "his hundred dollars!" repeated george. "i thought i heard you saying last night if you got hold of the little brass god, you'd make him put up a thousand dollars for it!" "so i would, too," declared thede. "and he wouldn't pay the thousand dollars, either, unless he saw a chance to make ten out of it!" during the entire absence of the boys george and thede discussed the mystery of the little brass god. they wondered how it had made such good time into that country, and puzzled over the strange fact that they had blundered upon it on the very night of their arrival. but when at last the boys returned with the tents and a part of the provisions, drawn along on the "drag," they had reached no conclusion whatever. it was all a mystery which time alone could solve! although it was now the middle of the afternoon, will and sandy insisted on making another trip to the old camp. "if we're going to stay in the cabin," will urged, "we've got to do the job some time and we may as well do it now." "i guess you'll have a good load if you get it all!" tommy suggested. the boys insisted that they were able to bring in the remaining stock and set off through the snow. tommy and thede continued to drag in wood until there was a great stack of it piled against the cabin. every time they opened the door, they looked in vain for the appearance of the man they had seen running away through the underbrush on the other side of the swamp, but he was not seen. "i'd like to know what's the matter with that fellow!" tommy observed as darkness settled down and the two boys returned to the cabin. in half an hour sandy and will came in with the provisions which they had brought from the camp, they reported that quite a large share of the tinned stuff had been cached in the snow about half way between the cabin and the site of the old camp. "we couldn't bring it all in," sandy announced. "i hope the man we drove out of the cabin will find it if he needs it," will observed. after a hearty meal they cleared away the dishes and sat around the fire discussing the situation until ten o'clock. then they secured the door and windows of the cabin and crawled into their bunks, which were remarkably well supplied with blankets and tanned bear skins. in the middle of the night the fire died down to embers and will arose to pile on more wood. he moved softly about in order not to disturb the sleep of his chums, and finally sat down by the blaze to enter anew upon a mental discussion of the mystery which surrounded them. will heard the sash rattling, as if in the light wind which was blowing, and glanced toward it. what he saw was not the velvet darkness of the night laying against the glass. the firelight which shone through the glazed sash revealed the outlines of a human face looking in upon him. it was an ugly face, with dusky skin, narrow slits of eyes, and straight black hair which seemed to wind and coil about the repulsive countenance as a collection of serpents might have done. the face disappeared as the boy looked, and will tiptoed softly to the bunk where tommy lay and awoke him with a violent shake. "get up!" he said. "aw, go chase yourself!" answered tommy not very politely. "it's worth seeing," will assured the lad. tommy seized a shoe from the floor, hurled it at the head of his chum, and then rose to sitting position, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "what have you found now?" he demanded. "there's a new one on us!" will declared. tommy opened his eyes wide in wonder. "not a new boy scout?" he asked. "we seem to pick up plenty of new boy scouts," laughed will, "but this isn't a new boy scout. this is the little brass god given the power of expression and the use of his legs!" "so you've gone and got 'em too, have you?" demanded tommy. "when i got up to renew the fire," will answered, "i heard the window sash to the north rattling. thinking that i ought to go and fix it, i glanced that way and saw the little brass god looking down upon me." "was he sitting up in the window with his legs crossed, and his arms folded, and his face making you think of the old nick?" asked tommy. "i could see only the head, but the head looked exactly as i imagine the little brass god looks; with the firelight shining on the yellowish hide, the face gave me the impression of being made out of brass!" "you better read another page out of the dream book and go back to bed!" laughed tommy. "you've been laboring under strong excitement lately and i think you need a long rest." chapter xiv a call from the darkness "perhaps you don't believe i saw anything at the window," replied will, somewhat indignantly. "oh, i don't doubt that you think you saw something at the window." will seized a searchlight, grabbed tommy by the shoulder, and pulled him out of the door and around to the north side of the cabin. the boys were not dressed especially for a midnight excursion in the snow, and their teeth chattered as they made their way against the chilling wind. however, they stuck to their purpose and soon stood under the window which will had pointed out." "there!" the boy exclaimed in a triumphant tone. "now perhaps you'll tell me i didn't see anything through the glass." a light snow had fallen during the late hours of the night, and there, plainly revealed on the undisturbed surface--undisturbed only for what they saw--were clearly outlined the footprints of two people. one had worn moccasins, the other such shoes as might have been purchased at any department store in chicago. "and the tenant came back!" grinned tommy. "then why didn't he come in?" demanded will. "because he's scared of us!" the boys followed the tracks toward the morass some distance and then returned to the cabin. "whoever the fellow is," will argued, "he found it necessary to get a half-breed or indian guide." "how do you know that?" asked tommy. "that may have been antoine in the moccasins." "i give it up!" replied will. "i don't know anything about it." "i shouldn't wonder at all if some faithful hindu had sailed across the pacific ocean, and traveled half across the continent, to rescue a faked brass god from the polluted hands of an unbeliever." "you don't really think there's any of this hindu temple business in this little brass god case, do you?" asked tommy. "well, the face i saw at the window looked like that of an east indian!" declared will. "his skin was brassy, and his eyes had the devil's leer in them just as the eyes of the little brass god are said to have." "well," tommy declared with a yawn, "i'm going back to bed!" "that's what i'm going to do," will agreed. "if we sit up here until we solve this new problem, we'll probably never get any more sleep as long as we live." seeing that the door and windows were securely fastened, the boys, who had been sleeping together, went back to their bunk, and there was only the crackling of the fire and the roaring of the wind to break the silence. tommy was soon sound asleep, but will lay awake listening. again he heard the window sash rattle, but this time he did not move. then he dozed off into slumberland, dreamed that he was on a tropical island where the perfume of the roses was so heavy on the air that breathing almost became a task. he opened his eyes dreamily, saw the fire blazing cheerily, heard the wind roaring around the corners of the cabin, and closed them to dream the same dream over and over. at last he awoke with a start and sensed a peculiar odor in the room. he lay perfectly still for a moment wondering what it could all mean, when a voice as smooth and as evil as the hissing of a snake, cut through the air. he listened but did not move. "you have hidden it!" the voice said. there was a long pause and then the voice broke the silence again. "arise and come to me." the next moment the boy heard thede moving in the bunk above. the lad first threw his legs over the rail, and will heard him drawing away the blankets. then the boy slipped softly to the floor and moved, as one who walks in his sleep, toward the north window. "come to me, come to me, come to me!" the voice repeated insistently. "i'll come to you, all right, in about a minute," will mused, "if you try any of that magic business here." thede continued to move toward the window, walking with his hands outstretched, as the somnambulist frequently walks. when the boy reached the window he staggered back as if from a blow, then moved forward again, as if bent on leaving the cabin by way of the narrow opening. will raised himself in the bunk, drew an automatic from under his pillow, and fired point blank at the glass. there was a crash and the cabin grew cloudy with powder smoke. thede sat down on the floor abruptly and began rubbing his eyes. "i guess i walked in my sleep," he said. "i do sometimes." the shot had awakened tommy and sandy, who came bounding to the floor. "what'd you shoot at?" they asked. "the little brass god!" "i guess you've got the little brass god on the brain!'' grinned sandy. "yes," tommy cut in, "you've gone and busted a perfectly good pane of glass when there isn't another one within a hundred miles." "did you hit any one?" george called feebly from the bunk. "i don't know!" replied will. "i'm going out to see in a minute." but tommy and sandy were out of the door and chasing around the corner of the house before will could disentangle himself from the blanket. instead of passing outside, then, he stepped over to the window and looked out. the boys were there looking over the freshly fallen snow with an electric searchlight. "did i see anything?" asked will with a note of victory in his voice. "somebody saw something!" answered sandy. "there's blood on the snow! some one found a bullet!" "i'm going to dress and find out where these tracks lead to!" tommy declared. "this is too much mischief for me!" "stick your face up in the air," advised will with a grin. "snow!" shouted tommy with a gesture of disgust. "these tracks'll be full of the beautiful before we could walk forty rods!" "that's about the size of it!" agreed will. "so you may as well come back into the house and we'll go back to bed." when the boys entered and closed the door again, it was four o'clock and they decided not to go back to bed again that night. "how'd you know there was some one there?" sandy asked of will. "i heard the window sash rattle, then a strong perfume--something like opium or hasheesh--was forced into the room, then the fellow on the outside began to work his hypnotic spell." "you say it right!" exclaimed tommy. "it's just as simple as anything you ever read in a daily newspaper," declared will. "this little brass god we are tracing up belongs either in a hindu temple in india, or the hindus think it belongs there. at any rate, some dusky old hypnotizer has been sent after it!" "you'd better get a new dream book!" sandy broke in. "whoever came to the window tonight, came there to find out what we were doing in this cabin! that's all there is to that!" "whoever came to the window tonight," will repeated, "came there for the purpose of hypnotizing one of us boys into telling where the little brass god is hidden!" "then he must be about fourteen miles off his trolley," laughed sandy. "we don't know where the little brass god is hidden." "he threw an oriental perfume or narcotic of some, kind into the room and let out his persuasive language," will went on. "if you don't believe he hypnotized thede, just ask him what he heard just before he got out of bed." "i heard some one calling to me," thede answered. "what did he say?" "he told me to come to him." "and you was obeying that command when you started toward the window?" "i guess that's right," answered the boy, "but it's all so hazy that i don't know much about it." "and then i fired at the window and broke the spell and also the pane of glass!" explained will. "if he comes back here again, i'll shoot from the outside! we can't be kept awake nights by any east indian magic." "east indian granny!" declared sandy. "you read about such occurrences in the newspapers every day!" declared will. "we see people hypnotized and forced to obey the commands of others, not only in the private parlor but on the open stage. sometimes, too, the hypnotic influence is assisted by strange oriental perfume. there's nothing extraordinary about it at all! in fact, there is only one word that describes it, and that is the word uncanny." "fix it anyway you want it!" grinned tommy. "there's a broken window, and there's blood on the snow, and we found thede lying on the floor when we sprang out of bed. if that doesn't make a good case of circumstantial evidence, i don't know what does!" "this little brass god is getting on my nerves!" declared sandy after a short pause. "we've been up against smugglers on lake superior; up against rattlers and wreckers in the florida everglades, and up against train robbers on the great divide, but this ghost business gets my goat!" "perhaps you'd like to go back to chicago empty-handed?" asked tommy. "not so you could notice it!" was the reply. "if there's anything i like, it's nice little boy scout excursions like this. all we have to do to get busy is to get a camping outfit together and march off into the wilderness. everything else comes right along as a matter of course. everything else, from magic haunches of venison, which appear when you wave your hand, to little brass gods, which grin down from the wall one second and vanish in smoke the next!" "aw, come on to bed!" cried george. "i'm going to sit up and get breakfast!" declared tommy. "sandy's got a grouch on, and there's nothing on earth so good for a grouch as a slice of broiled venison." tommy dressed himself and chased outdoors in order to bring in the meat supply. he returned without it. the venison was gone! chapter xv a hunting expedition the boys remained at the cabin all the next day stirring out only for wood and game. without going, more than a dozen yards from the habitation, the boys shot three rabbits and half a dozen squirrels. these were taken about noon, and the boys immediately began the preparation of a stew. there were a few potatoes left, and these they pared and sliced into the savory dish when it was nearing completion. they expected, every one of them, to receive another visit from the mysterious persons who had appeared at the cabin on the previous night, yet they did not talk of what was in their thoughts. they discussed the sad plight of antoine, wandering about in the forest with a broken wrist, and wondered if the cached provisions were still intact. the following night was a quiet one. snow fell heavily, and the small streams of that section took on icy blankets. when they awoke the following morning, the sun was shining brightly, and there were many signs of a pleasant week. "after breakfast," tommy declared, as he sent his plate over for the third helping of the rejuvenated stew, i'm going out and get a specimen of every wild animal in the woods. then i'm going to put them all into this stew!" "you might put a wolverine into it!" suggested thede. "are they good to eat?" demanded tommy. "they're good to eat game out of the traps, i understand," replied the boy. "or, just for a change," thede continued, "how'd you like an owl in your stew? i guess that wouldn't put you wise or anything!" "you seem to know quite a lot about this country," will suggested. "poor pierre taught me quite a lot during our rambles," thede answered sorrowfully. "then perhaps you'd better come along with tommy and me and show us where to get these different kinds of animals the kid wants to put into his stew. that will help some." after breakfast the three boys started out with their automatics. they crossed the morass to the higher ground beyond and passed along in the direction of the camp. there might be duck over moose river, thede suggested, and tommy certainly would want a duck for his stew. also there might be wild geese there. when they came to the place where the provisions had been cached, they found the surface of the ground broken and the provisions gone. not a single can remained. "now, we'll have to shoot all the more game," declared tommy. "we haven't got many beans or tomatoes left, so we'll have to forage on the country." the loss was not considered a serious one, for the boys had plenty of provisions at the cabin and game was very plentiful. as they passed through the country signs of the wild creatures of the woods were numerous. there were few spaces of a length of twenty-five feet in which the track of some wild beast or bird did not cross their path. thede read this writing in the snow so understandingly that the boys actually paid more attention to his explanations than to the discovery of the game he was talking about. "what crossed there?" will would ask. "that must have been a red deer!" "and this track, here?" asked tommy. "probably a fox." "well, what do you make of this?" will demanded with a wink at tommy. "that must have been a moose, but he passed here some time before the last fall of snow!" replied thede. "well, what's this wobbly little mark here?" tommy asked. "partridge!" replied thede readily. "well, here's another odd little mark. looks like some one had been dragging a rail fence. what's that?" "you ought to know that!" answered thede. "i ought to know lots of things that i don't know!" commented the boy. "well," thede said with a laugh, "the wild animal that passed along there was a beaver!" "i wonder if he belongs to our patrol!" chuckled tommy. "i should think the little fellow would freeze to death," will objected. "pierre said it was pretty cold for them to be out when he saw tracks two or three days ago!" replied thede. "they're building a dam over on the river some place, and i suppose they think they've got to finish the job before real winter sets in." after a long ramble through the forest, the boys came to the site of the old camp. the snow which covered the ground here had been well trodden down, and many tracks led in the direction of moose river. "i suppose they've been hunting for deserted provisions," will suggested. "i'd like to know who it was that made the search!" "it might have been your hindu friend," suggested tommy. "look here, kid," will said in a moment. "now that this hindu discussion has broken out again, i'd like to know what you think the chances are for locating that little brown man." "well," tommy answered, "i believe you were right when you said that the little brass god meant something more than intrinsic value to at least one of the men who are chasing it up. now," the boy went on, "if this brass-faced fellow has the sacred idol nut in his head, he won't leave this section of the country until he finds it." "that's the way i figure it out!" will answered. "and this adds another interesting feature to the case," tommy continued. "when we started out we were alone in pursuit of the little brass god. then we came upon pierre, and we were just beginning to believe that he also was in search of the merry little jigger when antoine murdered him. now, here comes a third interest, and, if you are anywhere near correct in your conclusions, he comes all the way from india." "you don't know where he comes from!" will interrupted. "the question we want to ask ourselves now is this: "have we any chance of recovering the article we were sent after if we remain in this district? in other words, ought we to settle down here and wait for things to quiet, or ought we to make an effort to discover the whereabouts of the two men who have expressed such decided opinions regarding the value of the little brass god?" "meaning antoine and the alleged hindu?" asked tommy. "exactly," was the reply. "you see," will went on, "there's no use of our remaining in camp here if the person who has the stolen article in his possession has taken it away." "i believe antoine has it!" declared tommy. "if antoine has it, if that was antoine sitting before the fire that night, why did he take the little brass god there instead of concealing it in his own cavern?" "the more we talk about it, the less we know," grinned tommy. "night before last," will began, "the little brass god was in a cave only a few miles from this spot. i don't believe it has been taken out of the district! if you boys leave it to me, we'll stay in the cabin for a few days, and take quiet trips about the country, particularly the hilly country to the south, in search of antoine and the hindu." "that suits me!" tommy declared, "and i know it'll suit george and sandy, too! there'll be a lot of fun in tramping about." "then why not make a trip to the range of hills right now?" asked will. "we can be back long before night." "i don't know about that," replied thede who had been listening to the conversation without speaking. "it's a long way over to the hills and the snow's deep." "then i'll tell you what we'll do!" tommy exclaimed excitedly. "we'll get a lot of game and send you back with it, and you tell the boys that if we don't return tonight, we'll be camping in some of those caverns in the hills." "i thought you'd be ready for another runaway night excursion!" laughed will. "i suppose i don't run away when i'm with you!" commented tommy. will only laughed, and the boys began the collection of rabbits and squirrels and ducks until thede was pretty well loaded down. they all walked along together until they came to where it would be necessary to part company because of the different directions to be taken. there will and tommy turned toward the south while thede kept straight on toward the cottage on the island in the swamp. "there's one thing we forgot," tommy suggested as the boys tramped laboriously through the snow. "we forgot to bring along anything to eat!" "yes, we did!" laughed will. "don't you think i'll ever start out on a tramp with you without plenty of provisions." the boy opened his heavy coat and revealed inside pockets packed with sandwiches made of venison steak and bread, with now and then a sandwich composed of stewed meat and griddle cakes, for variety. "we won't have to go home tonight, now, will we?" laughed tommy. "in chicago," will began, "we had a boy in our office we used to call the-young-man-afraid-of-his-bed. you must be related to him, for i have never known you to go to bed without objecting, or to get up without thinking how much time you had wasted!" "never you mind me!" replied tommy. "you wait till you get into some of those caverns in the hills and build a roaring fire, and i'll show you that you're not the only boy that can provide provisions." "you mustn't do any shooting over there!" warned will. "we might as well go in quest of the little brass god with a band!" "that's a fact!" agreed tommy in a discouraged tone. the boys first visited the cave where george had seen the little brass god grinning down from the wall. there seemed to be no one within miles of them. while they talked, however, a shadow fell on the oblong bit of light which marked the entrance, and a tall figure with one bandaged wrist, leaning on the barrel of a rifle, stood gazing down upon them with hatred flashing from his eyes. "it's antoine!" whispered will. "yes, and he won't do a thing to us now!" whispered tommy. chapter xvi antoine on the run antoine regarded the boys steadily for a moment without moving a muscle. will and tommy believed that the fellow meant mischief, and were wondering if they would be able to get their automatics from their pockets before he could bring his rifle to a shooting level. one question had at least been answered. the boys had been wondering ever since settling at the cabin whether antoine had not taken his departure from that country. his presence there at that time answered this question in the most uncomfortable manner. the man was evidently there on a mission not to be interfered with by so simple a thing as a broken wrist. "well, boys," antoine said in a moment, his face relaxing into a smile which was far more terrifying than the previous look of hatred, "it seems that we have come together again!" "welcome to our midst!" grinned tommy. antoine eyed the lad keenly for an instant and then turned his eyes toward will. "what are you doing in this country?" he asked. "fishing and bunting!" was the reply. "hunting for what?" "do you think we're looking for a forty story skyscraper?" demanded tommy. again antoine glanced sharply at the boy, but seemed determined not to give the slightest attention to his irrelevant observation. "who sent you here?" he asked of will. "gee-whiz!" exclaimed tommy angrily. "is this the third degree?" "how long are you going to remain here?" asked antoine, without paying any attention to the boy's question. "gee!" exclaimed tommy. "you make me think of the stories of little clarence in the newspapers! you're the original little interrogation point." "you'd better answer my questions!" thundered antoine, losing his temper at last. now this was exactly what tommy had been hoping for. antoine angry might prove to be more communicative than antoine in a pleasant temper. "will you answer a few of my questions?" asked will, wondering if it would be possible for him to spring upon the trapper and bring him down before his rifle could be brought into use. "if you'll keep that impertinent little gutter-snipe still," antoine snarled, "i'll answer such questions as seem to me to be worth answering." "are you the man who was seen sitting half-asleep before a fire in a cavern three nights ago?" asked the boy. the man hesitated for a moment, as if in deep thought, and then answered with an exclamation of impatience. "were you in the cave that night?" "no, but my chums were," will replied. "what did they see there?" "a man asleep by the fire!" "perhaps the man wasn't asleep at all. what else did they see?" it was will's turn to hesitate now. he was wondering if he ought to mention the fact of the presence in that cavern of the little brass god. at first it seemed to him that he ought to do so, that he might be able to secure information as to the exact situation from antoine by facing him with the fact of the discovery of the ugly little idol. then he reasoned that an acknowledgment that they knew anything whatever of the little brass god would be likely to get them into deeper trouble, if possible, than that which they now faced. so the boy decided to say nothing whatever of what george and thede had seen shining in the light of the fire. during this brief time of silence antoine brought his rifle into a more menacing position and began stirring about angrily. "are you going to answer my question?" the man finally demanded. "that's about all so far as i know!" replied the boy. of course will was not telling the exact truth, but he believed that, under the circumstances, he was privileged to shade the exact facts a trifle in the interest of his own safety. "what was it you put in the tea you gave george?" asked tommy with a mischievous grin on his freckled face. "i put nothing whatever in it!" replied antoine, "that is, i put nothing in it calculated to do the boy any harm." it seemed to the boys that antoine's manner was becoming more conciliatory every moment. "the lad was worn out, weak from loss of blood, and sadly in need of attention," the man went on, "and so, after caring for his wound and giving him a good breakfast, i gave him a mild sleeping potion, which, as you already know, affected him only a short time." "you say it well!" grinned tommy. antoine threw an angry glance at the provoking youngster, but soon turned to will once more. "i didn't quite understand the sudden attack the boys made on me," he said. "i was astonished when i received the blow which broke my wrist." "who set your wrist?" asked will. "there was only one bone broken, and i set it myself!" was the reply. "perhaps we did wrong in taking it for granted that george had been drugged to get him out of the way, and that we would share the same fate," will admitted after a moment. "but, under the circumstances, i don't see how we could have done any differently." "i'm sorry you were so precipitous," antoine said with what was intended for a suave smile. "you boys, i understand," he went on, "are now occupying the cabin on the island in the marsh." "who told you that?" asked will. "no one!" was the reply. "i have been near the place twice since you took possession. "why didn't you call?" demanded tommy. again the boy's question was ignored. "did you see any one loitering about the cottage when you were there?" asked will. "you were there in the daytime, i suppose." "why do you ask that question?" demanded antoine, giving a quick start. "have you been annoyed by people hanging about the cabin?" will didn't know whether to relate the story of the midnight visit or not. he finally decided that the least he said to antoine the better it would be for him, so he replied that they had passed two very restful nights in the deserted log house on the island. "did you find it deserted?" asked antoine. "it had the appearance of having been recently occupied," replied will. "i understand from one of the boys that pierre formerly lived there." "so i understand!" antoine replied grimly. "the point now is, whether it was occupied by any one after pierre left it." not caring to tell the exact facts. will said nothing whatever, and for a moment there was a rather embarrassed silence. "what do you say about that?" demanded antoine. "why, i think there was a little fire left when we went into the place," will replied, "but that might have been a left-over from the day before. those large fires burn a long time." "and you say that you have not been disturbed at all during your occupancy of the place?" antoine continued. "now i wonder how much this fellow knows," will asked himself while antoine stood gazing curiously down upon him. "i wonder if he knows about the people who came there that night? he seems to have a suspicion that some person is wandering about the country, and keeping pretty well out of sight. i wish i knew how much he knows." "oh, we have slept all right," he finally said, in reply to the man's question. "a mess of healthy boys will sleep under the noise of battle!" "i ask these questions," antoine said directly, "because i have seen strange foot-prints in the snow at different times, and it seems to me that some person or persons are skulking through the woods and, for some reason known only to themselves, keeping out of sight of honest men." "he knows all about that affair at the cabin," will concluded. "now," he went on, "i wonder why he's so very much interested in these strangers, whoever they are?" "oh, come on!" tommy exclaimed. "don't stand here all day! we've got to get back to the cabin before it gets too dark to make our way through the woods." the two boys took a couple of steps forward at a venture, without knowing whether antoine would oppose their leaving the cavern. "well," he said, as he stepped to one side, "if you boys see any strangers loitering about, i wish you'd let me know." the two lads amazed departed without making any promise, but they did not at once turn in the direction of the cabin. instead, they plunged through the snow in a southerly direction, after seeing that antoine had gone the other way. "where are you headed for now?" asked tommy. "just wandering about on general principles," replied will, at the same time turning into one of the eaves belonging to the system of underground passages. "thought i'd look in here first!" the lads entered the cavern as noiselessly as possible and looked guardedly about. a great heap of furs lay on the floor, and two figures rested upon them apparently lost in slumber. tommy pointed to the modern shoes on the feet of one of the sleepers. then he silently called attention to the bloody bandage wrapped about the man's head. he looked at will inquiringly. "do you suppose," he whispered, "that these, fellows are here after the little brass god, too?" the men seemed willing to answer the question for themselves, for they sprang to their feet and glared at the intruders angrily. one of the men was dressed as a trapper, although he did not look the part. he was tall and angular, with sharp features and keen black eyes. his companion was shorter, but equally slender. his eye orbits were small and oval in shape, his face was a dusky brown, and there was, somehow, about the man an atmosphere of the orient. while the four people glared at each other a step was heard in the narrow entrance, and in a moment antoine's face was clearly outlined against the narrow slit of light. the trapper took in the group at one quick glance, and, turning in his tracks, fled precipitately down the slope. without speaking a word, the two men who had been found in the cavern, turned and followed him. "now what do you think of that?" demanded tommy. chapter xvii "boys up a tree!" when thede returned to the cabin with numerous squirrels, rabbits and ducks, sandy greeted him with a shout of joy. "this will seem like living in the north woods!" he cried. "we'll have all kinds of game from this time on!" "you bet we will!" replied thede. "i'm some hungry myself, when it comes to that! i guess i can get a few!" "you never shot all these!" sandy doubted, poking the squirrels and rabbits about with a finger. "you never got them all by yourself!" "how do you know i didn't?" asked thede, with a provoking grin. "because you couldn't," sandy answered. "all right, then," admitted the boy. "we all had a share in the shooting, and will and tommy sent me back with the game." "where have they gone?" asked sandy, a look of indignation over-spreading his face. "they're always running away and leaving me to watch the camp! i wish they'd give me a chance sometime." thede sat down in one of the clumsy chairs which the cabin afforded and laughed until his sides shook. "i don't think any of you boys are famishing for fresh air and adventure," he said in a moment. "you seem to me to be kept pretty busy." "well," sandy exclaimed, "they might let me go with them when they start off on a tour like that. where have they gone, anyway?" "they said they were going out in search of the little brass god!" laughed thede. "honest?" demanded sandy. "that's what they said!" "i hope they don't find it!" sandy exclaimed. the boys cooked a liberal supply of game for dinner and then began restlessly walking to and fro over the cabin floor. "what's the matter with you fellows?" asked george in a moment, speaking from the bunk. "hello, you've woke up, have you?" demanded sandy. "i thought perhaps you'd sleep all day! how's your head feel?" "rotten, thank you!" answered george. sandy took a couple more turns about the room and then sat down by the side of the bunk where george lay. "i know what's the matter with you!" george said, directly. "what's the answer!" asked sandy, rather sourly. "you need exercise!" replied george. "you've been ramming about the cabin all the morning, and i've been wishing for the last three hours that you'd take to the tall timber." "is that so?" shouted sandy springing to his feet. "yes, that's so!" answered george. "i wish you and thede would go out for a ramble. if you don't know what else to do, walk over to the river and catch a fish. that'll go all right for supper." "you're on!" cried sandy. the boys were ready for the trip in a very few moments. it was not necessary now to provide against mosquitoes and "bull-dogs," for the sudden cold spell had effectually silenced them for the winter. "now don't you fellows come home unless you bring about twenty pounds of trout," george directed as the two lads opened the door and disappeared from sight. the boys had proceeded but a short distance when sandy called his companion's attention to a peculiar foot-print in the snow. "i guess we must be approaching the corner of state and madison again!" he laughed. "we come out into the woods to commune with nature, and find some new party butting in every time we turn around." "that's an indian's foot-print!" declared thede. "how do you know that?" demanded sandy. "you haven't seen any indian, have you? how can you tell an indian's foot-print from any one else's? that may be a white man's step, for all we know!" "nay, nay, me son!" laughed thede. "i know by the shape of the moccasin and by the way the fellow walks." "you know a whole lot of things!" laughed sandy. "if you keep on accumulating knowledge, you'll beat tommy out of his job as the sherlock holmes of the party!" "well, if you don't believe he's an indian, you'd better go and ask him!" thede argued. "he's right over there in the thicket!" sandy gave a quick start of alarm and put his hand back to his automatic. thede motioned him to leave his gun where it was. "this is a friendly indian," the boy explained. "i've often heard pierre refer to him. he's called oje, but i don't know whether that's his name or not. he's said to be the champion fisherman of this section, and if you really want to get fish for supper, we'd better get him interested." oje was not a very romantic looking indian, his general appearance being that of a bear fitted out with about three hides. the boys noticed, however, that none of the clothing he wore was fastened closely about his waist or throat. in fact, as he joined them with a grunt, they saw that the roughly-made garments were nearly all open. the indian knows better than to bring his clothing where it will come in contact with either his breath or with perspiration. should he do this in very severe weather, he would soon find everything about him frozen stiff. he is sure, however, to carry enough clothing with him to keep him warm in repose and during the long nights. "how do you know that's oje?" whispered sandy, as the indian stood looking questioningly at the two boys. "because he answers to the description." "howdy!" the indian exclaimed in a moment. the boys returned the greeting, and then followed a conversation which was almost entirely expressed by signs. oje was invited to proceed with the boys on a fishing trip, and, later, to accept of their hospitality at the cabin. the indian gave a grunt of assent, and at once turned toward the river. as they passed the spot where the cache had been, sandy glanced curiously toward the indian, as though wondering whether he had not been the one to dig out the provisions. the indian, however, walked on without appearing to notice either the rifled cache or the suspicious glances of the boy. arrived at the river, the indian, after carefully testing the ice, walked to a small island near the shore. the boys looked on while he began his preparations for fishing. he went about the work quietly, yet seemed to be remarkably exact in all his motions. first he cut about twenty feet of fish-line in two in the middle of the piece and tied one end of each part to one end of a stick which he cut from the shore. the knots he made in the fastening seemed primitive, but it was discovered later that they held very firmly. after a time he tied a bass hook to each fish-line, and on each hook he speared a little cube of fat pork which he drew from his pocket, and which had evidently done service through a long series of fishing expeditions. next he cut two holes in the ice, which was not very thick at that point, and over these the boys were invited to stand, sticks in hand, lines dangling from the poles. hardly had sandy lowered his line which had a bullet flattened around it for a sinker, when he felt it jerk to one side, and almost immediately drew up a three-pound trout. "now, what do you think of that for catching fish?" demanded the boy. oje gave a satisfied grunt at this evident appreciation of his services, and motioned the lads to continue their sport. next thede caught a gray trout somewhat smaller than the fish landed by sandy, and then another three-pound speckled trout was landed. "i guess if some of these fellows with hundred dollar fishing outfits could see us hauling beauties out of the water like this, they'd begin to understand what real fishing means!" sandy exclaimed. it was a glorious day for fishing, although a trifle cold. the sun shone down with a brilliance unequaled in more tropical climates, and there was little wind to send the chill through the clothing. after the boys had caught plenty of fish they started back toward the cabin. oje walked through the wilderness with a different manner from that with which he had accompanied the boys in the journey toward the river. he glanced sharply about, and frequently stopped to examine trifling marks in the snow. after a time he pointed to the track of a rabbit which had apparently departed from the faint trail in extreme terror, judging from the speed which had been made. "strange man!" he said significantly. "find track soon!" "do you mean," asked sandy, "that there's some one chasing us up?" "find track soon," was all the explanation the indian would make. "of course!" sandy declared. "we couldn't think of going back to the cabin without butting into some new combination!" in a short time the indian discovered the footprints he was looking for, and pointed them out to the boys. two persons had passed that way not long before. the tracks in the snow showed that one had worn moccasins and the other ordinary shoes. "i should think that fellow's feet would freeze!" sandy observed. "he don't seem to have any overshoes on!" "how do you know?" asked thede. "he may have a small foot and wear overshoes shaped like a shoe itself." "i wish we could follow the trail and find out where they're going!" sandy observed. "i'm game for it!" declared thede. the two boys pointed to the foot-prints and started to follow them. the indian seemed pleased at the idea, and soon led the way toward the range of hills whither the foot-prints pointed. "the first thing we know," thede suggested, "we'll be running into a nest of black bears. they're thick as bees up in this country, and they'll be hungry, too, with all this snow on the ground." the words were hardly out of his mouth before a succession of low, angry growls came to the ears of the boys, and the next moment they saw oje springing into the lower branches of a great fir tree. "i guess he knows what's good for his health!" shouted sandy. "me for a tree, too!" the boys probably never made quicker motions in their lives. "have you got a searchlight with you?" asked thede. sandy shook his head sadly. "then we can't see to shoot the beasts," wailed thede, "and it looks to me like one of those long, cold nights in a tree!" chapter xviii a pillar of fire "can you build a fire with one match?" asked thede, after a short silence, during which the boys had been trying in vain to get a shot at the bears. "of course i can!" answered sandy. "what's the good of going through all those boy scout examinations, if a fellow can't build a fire with one match? of course i can build a fire with one match!" "can you build a fire with one match up in a tree?" asked thede, with a suspicion of mirth in his voice. "of course i can!" answered sandy. "up in a tree in the darkness, on a windy night?" asked thede. "if this thing is going to your head, you'd better drop down and make a run for the camp!" advised sandy. "honest, now," asked thede, "can you make a fire with one match in a green tree, in a high wind, on a dark night?" "cut it out!" roared sandy. "because if you can," thede explained, "i think i can show you a way out of this mess!" "well, go on and show it, then!" "all you've got to do," thede went on, "is to build a fire and drop the burning brands down on top of the bears. that will bring them out into the light for a second or two, and perhaps we can drop them with our automatics." the boys heard the indian moving softly about in the branches of the tree he had selected as a refuge, but paid little attention to what he was doing. afterwards, they discovered that he had dropped his rifle at the foot of the tree, and was trying to secure it. "why did you say build a fire with one match?" asked sandy. "i always carry a lot of matches," the boy added, feeling in his pocket. "find any?" asked thede. "not a match!" "i knew you wouldn't!" thede said. "how'd you happen to know so much?" grunted sandy. "because," thede replied, "i saw you feeling in your pocket for a match and bring your fingers out empty while at the cabin. then you went to a match box and laid a great heap of 'em on the table. i thought of it while we stood there, but it never occurred to me to tell you to stow them away." "i remember now!" sandy said regretfully. "well," thede responded cheerfully, "i've got just one match. i wonder if you can light a fire with that!" "you just wait a minute and i'll tell you!" replied sandy. thede heard him moving about over the limbs of the tree, his every motion being punctuated by growls from below. then came an exclamation of satisfaction from the darkness, and thede heard the boy declaring that it was a dead tree they were in, and that there was plenty of dry wood. "all right, start your fire, then," suggested thede, "and we'll see if we can't burn the backs off some of those bears!" "perhaps we can break off enough dry limbs to make a rousing old fire that will keep till morning," sandy said in a moment. "if this old tree is really dead to the heart, it'll make quite a blaze." sandy gathered a great handful of twigs not more than a couple of inches in length and placed them in a sheltered position in the lee of the tree. then he added dry boughs of larger size and made ready to use the precious match. "now you know what'll happen if that match goes out!" said thede. "this match," said sandy confidently, "is not the kind of a match that goes out. i'd be a healthy old boy scout if i couldn't build a fire in the top of a tree with one match!" the boy waited until there came a brief lull in the wind, then with the match protected as much as possible by his hat he struck it. the flame spluttered for an instant, died down, crawled around to the windward side of the stick, crawled back again, and then flared up gloriously. at first the dry twigs refused to ignite, but presently one caught the blaze, then another, and directly sandy was obliged to draw his face away from the growing heat. "there!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "didn't i tell you i could do it?" "you said you could," answered thede, "but i didn't believe it!" "look here," tommy said in a minute, sheltering his face from the smoke. "first thing we know, we'll have this whole blooming tree on fire." "if it gets good and hot, we can fry fish after the bears go away," suggested thede. "i'm hungry! by the way," he added with a grin, "where are those fish?" "do you think i brought 'em up in the tree?" demanded sandy. "you never left 'em down there?" asked thede. "didn't i?" exclaimed sandy. "what did you do with the ones you were carrying?" "why," replied thede, "i guess i left 'em in the thicket where we stood when we made a hop-skip-and-jump for the tree." "we certainly are a bright mess!" cried sandy. "say," thede said in a moment, "i'll just bet that's what kept the bears so still while we've been up here building the fire. they've been eating our fish! that's why we couldn't get sight of them!" "can you see the bears now?" asked sandy. "i'm sure i can't!" "they're still back in there eating our trout!' wailed thede. "unless you want a leg burned off," advised sandy, "you'd better work around on another limb!" "aw, this limb is all right!" argued thede. the light from the fire now illuminated quite a little circle around the tree, and the boys saw je sliding cautiously down the trunk of the tree where he had taken refuge. "he's after his gun!" declared sandy. "just watch out and you'll see him get one of those bears!" oje certainly was after his rifle, for he slid down cautiously, keeping the bole of the tree between himself and the bears. much to the surprise of the lads, the indian did not again climb into the shelter of the branches. instead, he stood peering around the trunk of the tree as if waiting for the wild animals to make their appearance. the flame blazed higher and higher and the boys began to feel uncomfortable. "i'll bet there ain't any bears here!" sandy exclaimed after a moment's silence. "i guess we run away from a rabbit!" "i guess we didn't!" insisted thede. the boy's opinion was verified a moment later by the appearance of three shambling figures in the lighted zone. the bear is noted for his curiosity, and the boys realized, too, that the feast of fish must have been devoured. "we might have sneaked away while they were eating that fine supper!" sandy said, in a tone of disgust. "i think we ought to have medals made out of a cow's ear! that would be a good medal, wouldn't it, for boys who showed such courage in the face of the enemy?" "never you mind!" thede answered. "i guess the bears are next to their job. we wouldn't have gone far before they'd been after us." as the bears appeared in the light of the fire, now blazing fiercely and fast climbing from one dry limb to another, the lads saw the indian raise his rifle to his shoulder and fire. instead of taking to their legs, the bears grouped themselves around their fallen mate and snarled savagely up into the tree. "oje will get another one in a minute," thede ventured, overjoyed at the success of the first shot, "and then we can open fire with our automatics." "holy moses!" cried sandy. "here we've been sitting here watching the panorama with our guns in our pockets! i guess we don't know much about hunting bears, when it comes down to cases." "well, it isn't too late to shoot yet," thede declared. "it's getting pretty hot here, anyhow," said sandy, "and we'll have to drop in a minute, whether we shoot or not. this old tree seems to be as dry as tinder!" "yes," thede agreed, "i guess you started something when you made such good use of that one match." the boys moved about on the limb in order to get at their automatics. they noted then, for the first time, that the perch upon which they rested was burning close to the trunk. they called out to each other, almost simultaneously, to shift to the trunk of the tree. but it was too late. they felt themselves swinging through, the air, and the next moment there was such a mixture of boy and bear at the bottom of the tree as has rarely been seen in the british territories. both boys landed squarely on the back of one of the animals. of course, they rolled to the ground instantly and grabbed for their automatics, but their movements were no quicker than those of the astonished bear. "woof!" he said. "woof!" translated into boy-talk, this read "good-night!" and a second later they heard both bears tramping through the forest as if pursued by a pack of hounds. "what do you know about that?" demanded tommy. without replying, thede scrambled to his feet and dashed into the thicket where he had left the fish. he returned in a moment with a woeful face which set his chum into roars of laughter. "they ate our fish!" he said, "what'd you think they'd do with them?" demanded sandy. "did you think they'd put 'em in cold storage and keep 'em for next summer?" "what i'm sobbing about," thede went on, "is that the bears certainly made a monkey of me. they weren't after us. they were after the fish!" "well, they got the fish, didn't they?" asked sandy. "and we might have been on our way while they were devouring them!" wailed thede. the tree was now virtually a pillar of fire, and the boys moved out from under it. they found the indian standing, stolid and indifferent, just out of the circle of light. "just think of all that funny thing happening and he never seeing any humor in it!" exclaimed sandy. the indian lifted his hand for silence, and pointed off toward the hills. then, motioning the boys to follow him, he led the way into a thicket and crouched down. directly the panting and puffing of a man exhausted from a long run, was heard, and the familiar figure of antoine dashed into the circle of light! he glared about for a moment and then dropped down on the snow, evidently completely exhausted. chapter xix the signal from the hills "that's a funny proposition, too!" whispered sandy. "that's the gink who tried to feed us poisoned tea," thede whispered back. "i wonder what he's running for." the indian drew at the boys' sleeves to enforce silence, and all three sat perfectly still for some moments. then antoine lifted himself to his feet and looked cautiously about. they saw him examine the bear tracks and heard him muttering to himself as he followed with trained eyes the trail leading into the thicket where the boys and the indian were hiding. he drew quite close to the bushes where the three lay; so close, indeed, that they could hear him muttering as he lost the trail because of the darkness. presently, he turned back. "i think i understand," he said hoarsely. "two of the boys were treed by bears and oje rescued them. i presume they are half way to the cabin before this." he started along the trail by which the boys had reached the tree but presently turned back. he stood in the light of the fire for a moment and then set off in the direction of the hills. "safer there than here!" they heard him growl as he passed them by. oje waited until the sound of the fellow's footsteps were heard no more, and then arose to his feet, without speaking a word, he, too, faced toward the hills, passing through the snow at a swinging gait. "what's he going to do now?" queried sandy. "i wish i knew!" replied thede. "say, look here!" the boy continued, "hadn't we better make a break for the cabin? i don't see any sustenance in wandering around in the snow all night!" "oje has something on his mind!" sandy declared. "and i think we'd better find out where he's going." "all right!" answered thede. "i'm game, only i'm wondering what george is thinking about all this time." it was cold and dark in the forest, and the snow was deep, but the boys trudged bravely on in the direction of the hills. at least they supposed that they were going in the direction of the hills. they could scarcely see a yard in advance of their noses under the thick foliage and so trusted entirely to the indian, who led them along at a pace which was exhausting to say the least. there would be a moon shortly after eight, but soon after that time they hoped to be snugly tucked in their blankets in the cottage. for a time they could see the dry tree which they had fired blazing in the distance, but at length it dropped out of sight. "how long do you think that blooming savage will keep this up?" asked sandy of thede, as the two boys struggled along through snow nearly up to their knees. "i'm about all in!" "he's capable of keeping it up all night!" thede answered in a dejected tone, "but i hope he'll stop when we come to the hills." "he does seem to be heading for the hills," sandy replied. "if he'll only stop when he gets there, i may be able to catch my breath again!" "cheer up!" laughed thede. "the worst is yet to come!" "doesn't that look like the moon coming up?" asked sandy an hour later as they came to a slope which gradually led up to the hills. "that's the moon, all right!" replied thede. "but it won't do much good if we keep on walking under the trees. we ought to be home now." "does the moon rise in the south?" asked sandy, "there's no knowing what will take place in this part of the country," answered thede. "me for little old chicago right soon!" "i think it's about time we headed for chicago," sandy agreed. "when a couple of boy scouts who are supposed to be in their right minds climb a tree to get away from bears who are so busy eating stolen fish that they don't know there is a boy within a hundred miles, i think it is about time they headed for civilization." "what did you mean about the moon rising in the south?" asked thede. "well," sandy answered, "it looks to me as if there were two moons rising, one in the east and one in the south!" there certainly was a light growing far up on the hills. in a moment the indian came back to the boys and pointed out the strange illumination. "fire there!" he said. "what do you think it means?" asked thede. "heap campfire!" was the reply. oje held up three fingers to indicate that he saw three fires. his eyes were sharper than those of the boys, who at first saw only a blur of light. before long, however, they caught sight of three points of flame lifting above the hills. as the boys looked the blazes seemed to die down, or to be obscured by additional material being thrown upon them. as the moon rose, sending a wintry light over the great slope, three gigantic columns of smoke stood where the flames had shown a minute before. "what do you make of it?" asked thede. "can you read the signal?" asked sandy. "do you really think it is a signal?" "of course it's a signal!" cried sandy. "that's the boy scout signal. do you know what it says?" "three smoke columns mean 'good news!' answered thede. "do you suppose those crazy boys are still in the hills?" asked sandy. "if they are, george will think we've all deserted him." "of course they're still in the hills!" declared thede. "no one but boy scouts would be sending up those signals!" "aw, what good news would they have to communicate?" asked sandy. "perhaps they've found the little brass god!" suggested thede. "found your little brass uncle!" cried sandy. "well, it's good news anyhow!" insisted thede. "if it wasn't the boys wouldn't be taking the pains to build three big fires in order to tell us about it." the indian appeared to be suspicious of the campfires ahead until the boys explained to him, with much difficulty, that the fires had undoubtedly been built by their friends, and that they conveyed the information that agreeable developments awaited them. the slope of the hills was now bathed in moonlight, and the indian hesitated about advancing over the many clear places from which the timber fell away. urged on by the boys, however, he finally proceeded cautiously in the direction of the fires, keeping out of the moonlight as far as possible. "oje's afraid we'll bunt into something," thede said, as they clambered up the slope. "i wonder what he'd think if he should be called out of his bed by a blooming magician from the east indies." the signal coming from the hills was farther to the east than the boys had ventured before. the fires seemed to have been built high up on a shelf of rock facing the north. when the boys came closer they saw two figures moving about in front of the flames. directly they bad no difficulty whatever in recognizing will and tommy, as they heaped great piles of green boughs on the coals in order to create dense smoke. "the kids are in the center of the stage all right!" laughed sandy. "i don't see how they dare build fires out in that exposed place," thede suggested. "there's no knowing who may be prowling around." "perhaps they know where the few enemies we have found in this section are keeping themselves!" "perhaps they've got 'em shut up in some of their own caverns!" thede suggested. "anyway," he went on, "there's something doing, or they wouldn't be talking boy scout to us at this time of night." as the boys drew still closer they heard the labored breathing of some one running, apparently only a short distance away. oje darted away in the direction of the sounds, but soon returned to where the boys waited and headed once more for the boy scout signal. "what did you see, oje?" thede asked. the indian turned and pointed back over the snowy trail they had followed from the burning tree. "man from there!" he said. "antoine?" asked sandy. the indian nodded and continued up the slope as if the matter were unworthy of further attention. "now, what do you suppose antoine came here for?" asked thede. "attracted by the fire, probably," "i don't understand what he's roaming about so much for," thede continued. "what was he doing out at the burning tree?" "from the appearance of things," sandy answered, "i should say that he hot-footed it out there in order to get away from some one who was chasing him, though i can't understand why anyone should be chasing him." "anyway, he seems to be back here now," thede said. "it's dollars to buttons, though, that he doesn't go up to the fire where the boys are." "look here," sandy said in a moment, '"i just believe that antoine has the little brass god in his possession, and that the two men who came to the cabin that night are after it!" "i hope they don't get it!" "of course they won't get it," sandy answered. "didn't we come away up here into this desolate land to get it ourselves?" when a few yards from the blazing fires, sandy paused long enough to give the beaver call and hear the answer given. then the lads trooped up to the circle of light and warmth. "what's the idea?" sandy asked after greetings had been exchanged. "did you build these fires so we could cook supper?" "you're not hungry, i hope!" grinned tommy. "starved to death!" answered sandy. "we've been treed by bears, and dumped down on the back of a great beast about nine feet long, and had our fish devoured, and there's been nothing doing in the eating line since noon!" "never you mind the hardships of life!" grinned will. "we've got great news for you, so get ready to shout!" "what's the great news?" demanded sandy. "we've got the little brass god penned up in the cavern just under this rock! we've got a cinch on him this time!" chapter xx a sight of the god "all quiet at the cabin?" asked tommy. "all quiet when we left," sandy replied. "what time did you leave?" demanded tommy, suspiciously. "shortly after dinner." "and you've gone and left george alone all this time!" exclaimed tommy indignantly. "you're a bright lot!" "we thought you boys would be back to the cabin long before this!" sandy declared. "but what is it about this little brass god?" "when we reached the system of caverns which we visited not long ago, and in which we were held prisoners for a short time," will said, "we found two men, well bundled up in furs, lying asleep, or apparently asleep, in one of the smaller rooms. they sprang up when they saw us and seemed about to engage in conversation with us when antoine made his appearance. antoine seemed to want to talk with us, too, but when he saw the two men who had been asleep in the cavern he hot-footed down the slope, with the two fellows after him. i never saw a man run so fast in my life." "i bet they chased him clear to our tree!" thede cut in. "i guess he never stopped running until be got there anyway!" sandy grinned. "but why should he come right back here after being chased away?" "i don't think he did!" "will replied. "oje saw him out here not long ago!" sandy insisted. "what was he doing?" "i presume he was watching the fire." "the two men who pursued him are back, too!" will continued. "tommy and i found them in a cute little nest in the rocks not more than an hour ago. just before we built these fires, in fact." "i suppose you built the fires to lure us from the cabin!" laughed sandy. "well, we wasn't at the cabin, but we saw the signals just the same!" "we wanted you to come and help capture the men who have the little brass god," will answered. "so you've got the little brass god penned up under the hill!" laughed sandy. "you've got it, and yet you haven't got it!" "i never said we had it!" will replied. "i said we had it penned up under the hill. you didn't give me time to explain that there were two men penned up with it." "all right!" sandy said. "you've come to the right shop for fighting men. i can see those two fellows fading away at my approach!" "then you go in ahead," advised tommy. "they seem to be well armed and may shoot, if you don't scare them into fits with one of your fierce glances! they're bold, bad men!" "how do you know they haven't disappeared while you've been making signals?" asked sandy. "they've had time enough to be five miles away!" "we nailed 'em in with a couple of boulders!" grinned tommy. "you followed pierre's example, did you?" "yes, we just blocked 'em in." "well, i think we'd better be getting them out, then!" sandy urged. "and also be moving toward the cabin. george'll think we've got killed or something." "come on, then," will exclaimed. "i'll show you where they are!" the boy led the way down the slope for some distance and then paused at a boulder which blocked the entrance to what seemed to be a cavern of good size. they listened for a moment, but could hear no sounds coming from the interior. "how're you going to get them out?" asked thede. "we ain't going to get 'em out!" replied will. "what do you think we brought you boys here for? we know they can't get out, so we're just going to sit down here and wait for them to get good and hungry." "all right!" sandy answered. "two can watch and two can go back to the cabin! george will be good and anxious by this time." "i was thinking of asking oje to watch a short time," will said. "it's a good thing the indian came along with you." oje was called down to the barricaded entrance and the situation briefly explained to him. the indian stepped close to the boulder and listened for a long time for sounds from the inside. then he turned to, the boys and shook his head gravely. "don't you ever tell me they've gone and got away!" exclaimed tommy. "why, they couldn't get away unless they walked through forty feet of solid rock! and they couldn't do that!" "i'm going to find out!" declared will. the lads pried the boulder away, blocking it so that it could not crash down the slope and so warn the men inside of the approach of the boys. then will crept cautiously into the dark passage. the others were at his heels in a moment. on the previous visit of will and tommy, there had been the light of a torch in the cavern, but there was no illumination of any kind now. "i guess they've gone, all right!" tommy, whispered. "why didn't you get the little brass god while the getting was good?" demanded sandy. "the guns those fellows carried didn't look good to me!" was the reply. "it's a mystery to me how they ever got out of this cavern," will observed. "perhaps they are still here, waiting to get a shot at us!" suggested thede. "this would be a bad place for an attack." as the boys advanced they heard a whisper of voices farther in, and what seemed to be the rattle of footsteps over the uneven floor. then from some, apparently, distant comer of the cavern came a cry in an unknown tongue. the next instant the place was illuminated by two great torches of resinous wood. they flamed high in the hands of the men who had been discovered in the cavern during the first visit. "look!" cried will, pointing. "look!" the eyes of the boys followed the pointing finger dimly outlined in the light of the torches, and saw the little brass god swinging to and fro in an uplifted hand! "there!" exclaimed tommy. "i told you we'd got the little brass god!" "but you haven't got it yet!" taunted sandy. "we'll have it in a minute!" replied the boy confidently. the ugly little image remained in sight for perhaps half a minute, and then the cavern became dark as pitch again. the boys heard a quick rush of footsteps, apparently passing further into the cavern, and then all was silent. "that isn't the man who had the little brass god the other time i saw it!" thede declared. "i guess these fellows must have got it away from antoine, or whoever it was who had it at that time." "i wish we had a searchlight," suggested sandy. "i've got a little one for a cent," tommy answered. "i never leave the camp without one. no knowing when one may be needed," "strike a light then!" whispered sandy. "that would be a fine way to get a bullet into my coco!" tommy whispered back. "i'll just wait a while and see what's doing." there was nothing doing--nothing whatever! the boys, after waiting some ten minutes, advanced into the cavern which was now perfectly still. directly tommy turned on his electric. the little flame revealed no presence there save that of the boys themselves. they searched every nook and corner of the place, believing it impossible that the two men could have escaped. at last, however, they were forced to the conclusion that once more they had lost track of the object of their search. "but where did they go?" demanded tommy. "i guess that's what no fellow can find out," replied will. the boys continued their search in the hope of finding the passage by which the two men had escaped. at last they came to a small opening in the floor of the cavern which apparently led to a cavity farther down. "they didn't wait for the elevator!" laughed tommy. "shall we go down after them?" asked sandy. "i think we'd better get back to the cabin." will argued. "it must be after ten o'clock now, and george may be in trouble for all we know." "three times and out!" exclaimed sandy. "the next time we catch sight of the little brass god, we'll sure get out fingers on it!" "i'd be happy just now if i could get my fingers on something to eat!" thede declared. "i'm about starved!" "we've got a few sandwiches, if they'll do any good," suggested will. "if they'll do any good!" repeated sandy. "you bring 'em out here and we'll see whether they will or not." "thede ran to the door of the cavern and looked out, calling softly to the indian as he did so. oje was nowhere to be seen! "i wonder where that indian went?" the boy asked. "he probably got busy after some one!" will replied. the boys devoured the sandwiches which remained from the supply provided by will and then started back to the cabin. the moon was now high up in the heavens, and the boys could trace foot tracks in the snow quite distinctly. for a time they saw the prints of oje's moccasins. they seemed to be following another track which was obliterated by his passage. "perhaps he's chasing the two fellows who had the little brass god!" suggested sandy. "if he is, i hope he gets 'em." after a time the tracks swung away to the left and the boys saw them no more. when they came in view of the cabin a bright light was reflected through the broken window pane, but there seemed to be no evidences of motion on the inside. "i presume george has gone to sleep," will said. "i should think he'd be tired of waiting. it must be somewhere about one o'clock!" when the boys came up to the cottage they saw a figure detach itself from the shadows which lay against the west wall and dash precipitously into the thicket. will hastened to throw the door open. the boy started back in alarm, as he noted the condition of the interior. the bunks lay broken on the floor, and it was plain that the whole apartment had been most thoroughly pillaged. chapter xxi two rifle shots as the boys stepped into the room george arose from a heap of blankets near a broken bunk and stood regarding them with a quizzical smile on his face. the boys at once clustered around him with dozens of questions on their lips. "what's been doing here?" demanded tommy. "you missed the biggest sensation of the excursion!" exclaimed george. "where are the fellows who busted up the furniture?" asked sandy. "you ought to know," replied george. "they ran out just before you entered. it's a wonder you didn't meet them." "who are they?" asked will. "you remember the two men who came to the window that night?" asked george. "well, these were the two men!" "did one of 'em have his head in a sling?" asked tommy. "sure he did!" was the reply. "why don't you sit down and tell us all about it?" asked sandy. "that won't take long," replied george. "they came in here something like half an hour ago and began mixing up with the furniture. they searched everything in sight and out of sight, and were about to take up the floor, i reckon, when they heard you coming." "did they say what they were searching for?" asked will. "not directly," was the reply, "but i know from expressions i heard that they were searching for the little brass god." "the little brass god?" repeated will. "why, they've got it now!" "you bet they have!" tommy joined in. "how do you know they have?" "because we saw them have it in the cavern!" answered will. "they were in that cavern not more than five minutes before we left the hills. they must have hustled to beat us to the cabin and make a half hour's search before we arrived." "i think we've all got a lot of guesses coming," sandy observed. "yes, but what i can't get through my head is why those fellows should be searching through the cabin for the little brass god when they have it in their possession," will said. "you're sure they had it?" asked george. "i saw them have it in the cavern earlier in the evening," was the reply. "when we went to try to make them give it up, they vanished as if they had gone up in the air!" the boys began straightening things in the cabin, and sandy busied himself in the corner where the provisions were stored. "i'd like to know where that indian went," thede said, as he assisted sandy in preparing some of the game which had been caught early the morning before. "he won't go far away, i'm thinking." before the words were off the boy's lips the door was pushed gently open and oje looked in. he made a gesture asking for silence and went out again, softly closing the door behind him. "that's a funny proposition!" whispered tommy. "why don't he come in and get some of the supper sandy is getting ready?" the door opened again, then, and antoine staggered inside. his face was bloodless and his eyes seemed starting from their sockets. his clothing was slit in places as if he had been attacked with a knife, and he staggered about while searching for a chair. will sprang forward to the man's assistance, helped him to a chair, and poured a cup of strong coffee, which the roan drank greedily. the man's eyes roved wildly about the room for a second then he turned anxiously to will. "did they get it?" he asked. "did they get what?" asked the boy. "what they came to search for." will turned inquiringly toward george. "did they find anything during their search?" he asked. george shook his head. "they hadn't concluded their search," he replied. "then they failed to find the br----" there was a movement at the window followed by a rifle shot. antoine sitting before the fire by george's side crumpled up and dropped to the floor, a stream of blood oozing from his temple. before the lads could quite comprehend what had taken place, a second shot came from outside. then oje's face appeared in the doorway again, beckoning to those inside. tommy and sandy stepped into the open air and were directed around to the rear of the house. there, face up in the moonlight, lay the man whom will had described as an east indian. the bandage was still around his head, but a new wound was bleeding now. his eyes were already fixed and glassy. the bullet had entered the center of the forehead. "he shoot man inside!" the indian grunted. "and he killed him, too!" answered tommy. entirely unconcerned, the indian would have struck off into the forest, but the boys urged upon him the necessity of partaking of food. with a stoical exclamation of indifference, oje finally followed them into the cabin and seated himself before the open fire. antoine was quite dead. the boys straightened his still figure upon the floor and placed by its side the body of the man who had been his murderer. "we must give them decent burial in the morning," will decided, "and in order to do so, we must keep them away from the wild animals of the wilderness tonight." there was a hushed silence for a long time in the room. the boys involuntarily turned their eyes away from the two inanimate objects which had so recently possessed the power of speech and motion. presently sandy saw something glistening at the breast of the dark man. where his heavy coat of fur dropped back the boy thought he distinguished a gleam of gold. thinking that it might possibly be some trinket calculated to reveal the identity of the man, sandy advanced to the body and threw the coat open. there was the little brass god! "we didn't have to find it," tommy said slowly after a short pause. "the fellow brought it to us!" will took it into his hand and made a careful examination of it. "do you think this is the one we are after?" he asked. "holy moses!" exclaimed sandy. "you don't think there are two little brass gods, do you? one seems to have kept us pretty busy!" "i've heard of their traveling in pairs," thede suggested. "is this the man who made the search of the house?" asked will of george. "that is one of them!" was the reply. "the other seemed to be a man in the employ of this man. he was dressed like a trapper and acted like one. they quarreled over some suggestion made by this man and the one whom i took to be a guide went away in a rage." "you are sure he didn't find what he was looking for?" "dead sure!" "then there are two little brass gods!" insisted tommy. "yes, and i guess the one we want is the one we haven't got!" will said. "i don't see how this fellow could have the one containing the last will of simon tupper," tommy argued. "can you open the tummy of the little brass god, will?" asked sandy. "mr. frederick tupper showed me how to do the trick," will answered. "then why don't you see whether this is the right one or not?" asked sandy. "if you can open it, it's the one; if you can't, it isn't the one!" "wise little boy!" exclaimed will taking the ugly image into his hands again. he pressed here and there on the surface of the little brass god, touching now a shoulder, now a foot, now the top of the head, for all the world like one operating the combination of a safe. "you see," he said, as he continued his strange employment, "the shell of the image is not very thick and when i press on certain parts, certain things take place on the inside." he put his ear to the side of the image and listened intently. "there!" he said. "you can hear a click like the dropping of a tumbler when i press here at the back." "if the combination works, then," shouted tommy, "it must be that we have the little brass god holding the will." "it works all right enough," will replied. with the final pressure on an elbow will turned a foot to the right and the little brass god opened exactly in the center. but no will was found in the cavity. instead a mass of diamonds, emeralds, pearls, rubies, amethysts glittered out upon the floor. the boys stood looking at the shining mass with wide open eyes. "there must be a million dollars there!" tommy said almost in a whisper. "i wasn't thinking of that!" will said. "i was thinking that, after all our labor and pains, we have unearthed the wrong brass god." "but we've just got to find the right brass god," sandy insisted. "yes, and we'll have a sweet old time doing it!" exclaimed george. "the poor fellow who lies dead there searched every bit of space inside the cabin, yet he didn't find it!" "but it may not be anywhere near the cabin!" exclaimed "will. "if we knew whether antoine ever had it in his possession," tommy said, "we'd know better where to look." "of course he had it in his possession!" said sandy. "i'm sure he's the man who took it from the pawnbroker's shop on state street. now let's see," the boy went on, "what were the last words he spoke?" "he started in to say brass!" replied will. "then you see, don't you, that that proves that he knew all about it?" "yes, and he asked if they found what they were looking for," tommy contributed, "and that shows that the little brass god he brought from chicago is some where about this palatial abode." chapter xxii the twin brass gods oje, who had been sitting by the fire, waiting for his supper, long delayed by the rush of events, now arose and took the little brass god into his dusky hands. "have you ever seen one like that before?" asked will. the indian shrugged his shoulders and pointed to the body of antoine. "dead man have one!" he said. "like this?" asked will. the indian grunted an assent. "then i'll tell you what took place, boys," will said. "when antoine shot pierre, he came here and took possession of the cabin and provisioned it, he had had the little brass god in the cavern where george and thede saw it, and he thought a safer place for it would be the cabin." "so he moved in here and hid it!" tommy went on. "and we boys chased along and drove him out into the wide, wide world. now the question is whether he took the little brass god back to the cavern or whether he left it hidden about the cabin." "it's a hundred to one shot," sandy observed, "that this dead east indian knew that the image he sought was in or about this cabin. the first night we came here he prowled about looking for it and tried to get one of us boys into a hypnotic trance. we don't know how many times he has been back here since that night." "but who sent the fellow up here after the little brass god, anyway?" asked george. "how did he come to get on the track of the ugly little devil." "i guess that's something we'll have to find out in chicago," replied will. "all we know is that antoine was scared to death of him, as shown by his sudden flight from the cavern when he looked in and saw the east indian and his guide standing looking out at him." "and they chased him clear up to our burning tree!" thede cut in. "that's a fact," sandy replied. "that dusky faced chap certainly had antoine buffaloed!" "well," will went on, "the east indian kept returning to the cabin and antoine kept returning to the cabin, so it's a pretty safe bet that the little brass god we seek is here. besides, the fact that antoine asked if the east indian found anything proves that it is in or about the cabin." "well, we're going to find it if we tear the cabin to pieces," tommy said. '"as will says, it is a sure thing it is not far away." there was not much sleep in the cabin that night, and it was a dreary supper the boys ate. before daylight the indian lay down upon the floor in a blanket, but the other boys remained awake until morning. then they began the search for the little brass god. they were satisfied now that pierre had never had possession of it, that he had been despatched as one familiar with the woods and the ways of antoine, in the sigsbee interests to secure it from the man who had purchased it at the pawn shop. everything pointed, as has been stated, to antoine's being the man who had taken it out of chicago. the boys searched the cabin for two days until not a sliver of the inside remained uninvestigated. then, after putting up their tents, they began taking the structure down, log by log. on the third day they found what they sought in the heart of a rotten log. antoine had hidden it in a secure place. will had no difficulty in opening the belly of the little image, and there he found the last will of simon tupper, bequeathing his entire property to frederick tupper. "that settles the case, boys, so far as we are concerned," will said, "and i think we'd better be getting back to chicago in order to straighten things out." "you talk about getting back to chicago like we could take the elevated and get there in an hour!" laughed sandy. "i guess that you forget that we've got three hundred miles of wilderness to travel before we reach the railroad station!" "well, we've got our canoes, haven't we?" asked tommy. "yes," will answered, "and if we want to use the canoes, we'll have to wait until the river opens in the spring. we can get out on the ice all right, i guess." at the end of two weeks the boys found themselves at a way station on the canadian pacific road. after that it did not take them long to reach chicago. during the trip down they had rather enjoyed the hunting and fishing. once or twice they had caught sight of a man whom they believed to be the guide the east indian had secured, but after a time the man disappeared entirely and was seen no more. oje accompanied them part of the way and then much to their regret, turned back. the finding of the will, of course, settled the tupper estate for good and all, and the boys were well rewarded for what they had done. "there's one thing i'd like to know," will said, as they sat in mr. horton's office after all the adventures of the trip had been related, "and that is where this second little brass god came from, and how this east indian got into the hudson bay country in quest of the other brass god about as quick as we did." "that has all been explained," the attorney replied. "from your description, antoine is undoubtedly the man who took the little brass god in which we were interested from the pawn shop. the evening papers of that day described the burglary of the tupper home and referred particularly to the taking of the little brass god from the mantle in the library. "the newspapers said at that time that the taking of the image would doubtless result in the discovery of the burglar. in this, the newspapers were wrong. the burglar has never been brought to punishment. "on the other hand, however, the taking of the brass god led to the recovery of two sacred ornaments belonging in a hindu temple in india. it seems that two prominent hindus read the article concerning the little brass god and made inquiries at police headquarters and at all the pawn shops in the city concerning it. the idols had been stolen years before and these men considered it their duty to restore them to the temple if in their power to do so. "they found one of the little brass gods without difficulty, it having been purchased a few months ago by a dealer in antiques. they might have known of the wealth contained in the belly of the idol, but it is certain that the dealer in antiques never did. of course the east indians learned all that any one knew concerning the destination of the image taken from the pawnshop, and so one of them, the man who was killed, went north in quest of it. "so far as pierre is concerned, it is probable that he was picked up here in chicago and sent north by sigsbee. of course we shall never know the truth of that matter, but it is plain that he is not the man who took the idol from the pawnbrokers' shop. "well, that ends the case so far as we're concerned," george replied, "and if you've got any more boy scout excursions in view, mr. horton, i wish you'd suggest a hot climate for the next one. it seems to me like i never would get warm again!" "what do you think of the people who live up in the hudson bay country all the year round?" asked mr. horton. "how would you like to wander around there year after year, as oje does?" "say that oje's a good indian!" tommy exclaimed. "i tried to get him to come on down to chicago with me, but he said he wouldn't live here on a bet." "what are you going to do with the two little brass gods and all the precious stones?" asked sandy. "i would suggest," mr. horton replied, "that the two idols be returned to the hindu still remaining in the city, the companion of the one who was killed, and that the jewels be returned with them." "that's a lot of money to give away," sandy suggested. "there's nothing compulsory about it!" laughed mr. horton. "if you boys want to run the risk of being chased up by those hindus until they finally get their hands on the idols, you may do so." "not for mine!" exclaimed thede. "i don't want any dusky east indians chasing me up!" it was finally decided to restore the two little brass gods with the jewels to the hindu. later the body of the east indian was taken from its grave near james bay and transferred to his own country. "there's one little commission i'd like to have you boys undertake," mr. horton said, after all the details of the tupper case had been settled. "there's quite a bunch of trouble down here in a coal mine that i'd like to have you boys look into." "is it good and warm down there?" asked george. "suppose you walk down a few thousand feet under ground, some day, and make a note of the temperature!" laughed tommy. "of course we want to go!" replied will. after a few days in chicago, the boy scouts were off on their travels again. the story of their adventures will be found in the next volume of this series entitled. "boy scouts in the coal caverns; or, the light in tunnel six." boy scouts on the great divide; or, the ending of the trail by archibald lee fletcher chicago m. a. donohue & company copyright made in u.s.a. contents i--a boy scout ii--the runaway iii--the case is stated iv--a chase in the night v--a detective and a robber vi--the call of the beaver vii--arrested as spies viii--a midnight bear hunt ix--lynching is threatened x--one danger to another xi--a wyoming hold-up xii--an interrupted wig-wag xiii--tommy goes after bear steak xiv--a pair of prisoners xv--an underground channel xvi--cullen loses his star xvii--a meeting under ground xviii--the finding of wagner xix--sheriff pete's wink xx--detectives in trouble xxi--conclusion boy scouts on the great divide; or, the ending of the trail chapter i a boy scout camp on a sunny september afternoon two shelter tents stood in a mountain valley, on the south bank of a creek which, miles and miles below, becomes the sweetwater river. above the flap of each tent lifted a yellow pennant, in the center of which a blue beaver stood in an alert and listening attitude, his flat tail outstretched. a campfire blazed in front of the two tents, and some distance away four bronchos fed noisily on the sweet grass of the valley. tinned provisions and cooking utensils were scattered here and there in front of the blaze, and four boys wearing the khaki uniform of the boy scouts of america were busily engaged in preparing supper. those who have read the previous volumes of this series will require no introduction to will smith, george benton, charley (sandy) green, or tommy gregory. as will be remembered, they were all members of the beaver patrol, chicago. will smith had recently been advanced to the important position of scoutmaster, and george benton had been elected to the position left vacant by the advancement of his chum, that of patrol leader. besides carrying the badges of their offices and their patrol, the boys all wore medals showing that they had qualified in the stalker, ambulance, seaman and pioneer grades. after rather striking adventures on lake superior and in the florida everglades the boys had been persuaded by mr. horton, a well-known criminal lawyer of chicago, to undertake a mission in the interest of a client in whom he had become greatly interested. the lads had already arranged a vacation trip to the great divide, and it necessitated only a slight change in their program in order to make the investigation desired by the attorney, who had shown himself their friend on more than one occasion. in fact, the superior trip had been taken at his expense. mr. horton had presented the request which had changed the lads' vacation plans on the night before they left chicago, and so no details whatever of the case had been given them. they had been asked to proceed to the city of green river, in the state of wyoming, and there secure burros, provisions and tents and travel to the valley lying south and west of altantic peak. the noted attorney had informed them on the morning of their departure that, in case further instructions did not reach them by wire before they came to green river, a messenger would follow them into the mountains with full details, and also a history of the case in which they were to be employed. on this sunny afternoon they were awaiting the arrival of the messenger, no information having been received by telegraph. the tents had been set up on the previous evening, and the boys did not think it possible that the messenger could be more than twenty-four hours behind them. while they waited for the supper to cook they watched the country off to the south anxiously. "last call for supper!" cried sandy, spreading a great white cloth on the fragrant grass of the valley. "we can eat out-doors in this country without any danger of people butting in to see what we've got for supper." "you say it well!" said will, "but you can't prove it! for instance," he added, pointing to the south, "there's some one coming right now to see what we've got for supper!" the figure pointed out was that of a tall and slender man who was climbing the slope to the southeast. he carried a long rifle over his shoulder and a cartridge belt was conspicuously displayed about his waist. while the boys arranged their food on the table cloth, the man approached warily. when he came into the valley in which the camp was situated he turned away to the right as if about to circle the tents and the fire. tommy stood up with a great slice of bread in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other and waved both at the stranger. "come on in!" he shouted. "the eating's fine!" at this invitation the stranger came forward to the fire and stood for a moment without speaking, gazing at the boys with eyes strained to their utmost in an effort to make them look piercing. "thank you very much for the invitation!" replied the stranger, "i've had a long walk today and i'm both hungry and tired! my name is katz--joseph j. katz, and i'm in business in a small way in denver." "i bought a burro at green river," katz went on, "but lost him twenty miles to the south. he got his foot in a prairie dog's hole or something of that kind and broke his leg so i had to shoot him." "and you've been walking ever since?" "indeed i have!" was the reply. "and i'm afraid i'll have to ask you to extend your hospitality until morning. i have a friend who will be along sometime tomorrow with a couple of light tents and a couple of burro loads of provisions." "then you're going to camp in the mountains, i take it?" "yes," was the reply. "we're going farther in and take a rest and look for a good sheep valley while we do so." "you're welcome to remain here until your friend comes in!" answered will. "we have plenty of provisions." "then you are thinking of remaining in the mountains for some time?" asked the stranger. "in that case we may meet often." "i hope so," replied will. "we are boys from detroit having a little vacation from the hills and it will be all the pleasanter if we have congenial company. but sit down and eat. you must be hungry." kata fell to with an appetite and tommy saw that his plate was replenished as soon as it was emptied. while he was eating sandy and will arose from the cloth, excused themselves and passed into one of the tents, where sandy stood regarding his companion with accusing eyes. "say," the boy asked, "are you getting to be such a liar that you just can't tell the truth?" "what's the matter now?" demanded will. "why did you tell that fellow we were from detroit?" "because he lied to me!" was the rather indignant reply. sandy grinned and looked the question he did not ask. "he told me he was from denver," will went on, "and tommy says he's a chicago detective. the kid says he saw a detective badge under the fellow's lapel. and i guess tommy knows a detective badge," the boy continued with a wink. "i should think he would after the fun he's had with chicago detectives, and the times he's been chased by them." "you don't suppose he's come on here to pinch one of us, do you?" asked sandy. "if he has, we'll pitch him into the stream that takes the longest road to cape horn." "of course not!" answered will. "for all i know he may be the messenger sent by mr. horton." "then why should he lie about his home city?" asked sandy. "i don't know," answered will. "he may be the messenger and he may not be. if he is a messenger, he's a fool, because he ought to know without further investigation that we're the boys he set out to find. if he isn't a messenger, he's a charter member of the ananias club or tommy's very much mistaken." "i don't believe he's a messenger," sandy answered and the two went out to the fire together. "i have heard a great many stories of robbery and murder in this country," the boys heard katz saying to tommy, "but up to this time i have seen no unlawful acts committed." "oh, but they have a stage hold-up or some scrape of that kind every week or two!" replied tommy with a wink at will. "we remained over at green river a couple of days and heard a good many stories about highway robbery. there is said to be gold in these mountains," the boy continued, "and there is also said to be a band of brigands who lie in wait for treasure hunters." katz appeared deeply interested in what the boy was saying. in fact he seemed rather excited, too, and the boys noticed that he reached out one hand to stroke the gun, which lay near his side, as he listened. sandy nudged george in the side and whispered: "i'll bet tommy's got him scared half to death!" "i guess that's what the kid's telling him these stories for!" george ventured. "he's always up to tricks like that." while the boys worked about the camp preparing beds for the night and clearing away the remains of the supper tommy remained close to the side of the trench, asking of his experiences on the way in and telling many exciting stories of highwaymen, the most of which had origin in his own brain. "tommy'll have that fellow so scared that he can't sleep!" sandy whispered to george. "then the fellow shouldn't get scared so easy!" "i consider it very fortunate for you boys," they heard katz saying after a time, "that i came along just as i did. if this country is as thoroughly infested with robbers and murderers as you seem to think it is, i may be of service to you before morning." "sure!" agreed tommy. "we may have a battle with outlaws almost any time now! we're glad you're here to protect us!" "of course, one man can't fight a whole regiment," katz went on rather boastfully, "but i'll do what i can to protect you in case the camp is attacked." "i know you will!" answered tommy with a sly wink at sandy. "i knew you were a brave man as soon as i saw you!" during the evening the boys taking the lead made by tommy told numerous stories of train-robberies and murders in the mountains as they sat around the campfire. katz listened attentively to them all and more than once the lads saw him involuntarily reach a hand back to his pistol pocket. on such occasions they nudged each other joyfully. "i wish something would happen tonight," tommy whispered to will as they prepared for bed. "i'd just like to see how this katz would act under fire. i've a good mind to make something happen!" "you'd better cut that out!" replied will. "the messenger we are waiting for may be here at any time now and we may have to move camp at any time. so we want to rest while we can." "all right!" tommy answered reluctantly. "i'm just as anxious to get a good night's sleep as you are." "who's going to stay awake?" asked sandy stepping up to where the boys were talking. "i don't think it's necessary for anyone to stay awake," cried will. "i don't believe we ought to all sleep at once!" sandy observed. "not with this stranger in the camp, anyway," he added. "aw, the stranger's all right!" tommy exclaimed. "he's a bum chicago detective out after some fugitive from justice and he thinks its foxy to lie about his occupation and his residence. don't you think i know the earmarks of a chicago detective?" he added. "you ought to, considering the number of times you've been mixed up with them," laughed sandy. "you certainly ought to know all about chicago detectives." "what makes you go certain this man is a chicago detective?" asked will. "i haven't seen anything that looks like chicago about him!" "why," answered tommy, "he's mentioned harrison street and desplaines street and chicago avenue half a dozen times when talking about the police department of denver! and he's been telling about police boats on the lake and on the north and south branches and giving himself away generally. of course, he doesn't know we're from chicago and so he doesn't think it necessary to be careful in his speech." "all right, time will tell!" exclaimed sandy. it was arranged that will, tommy and george were to sleep together in one of the tents until midnight while tommy stood watch, and from that time on, the other boys were to watch two hours apiece. katz was to have the second tent all to himself. for sometime after the lads and katz went to their tents, tommy sat by the fire listening to coyotes and grey wolves howling off in the mountains. occasionally a coyote came within a few paces of the fire and set up a howl which must have been heard in the dreams of the sleepers. along near midnight the boy heard, very indistinctly, shouts to the west of the ridge which lay to the south of the valley. still more faintly, return shouts were heard. the men, whoever they were, seemed to be advancing toward the camp. while the boy listened a volley of shots came from the west, followed by hoarse shouts and imprecations. it now became plain that two horsemen were speeding toward the valley and that the shots which were being fired were directed at them. there was no moon as yet although there would be one later on, and little could be seen of the horsemen who were doubtless seeking refuge in the canons farther to the north, but the heavy breathing of the horses and the creaking of the saddles could be distinctly heard. "i just went to the tent to wake katz!" tommy chuckled, "and saw him sneaking away making flat-footed for the hills!" chapter ii the runaway the horses came on at a swift gallop, to an accompaniment of rifle shots and the jingling of spurs. directly they were in the circle of light about the fire, their frightened eyes showing red as they ran. the faces of the riders glared viciously down at the boys, but the weapons swinging threateningly from their hands were not discharged as they dashed through the lighted space and were gone. "now what do you know about that?" demanded tommy, as the horses disappeared in the darkness and the gradually receding hoof-beats showed that they were still keeping their course to the north. "looks to me like some one was being chased," observed sandy. "it would seem that way to the unprejudiced mind!" added george. directly the sound of heavy boots scrambling over broken rocks, accompanied by private and personal opinions of that part of wyoming, of rocky surfaces, and of midnight expeditions, came to the ears of the listening boys. as the sounds drew nearer they grouped closer together. "here comes the boys who did the shooting!" exclaimed tommy. "i hope they won't mistake us for the men they're after!" george suggested. "they look like rather tough citizens," he added, as the bearded faces and roughly-clad figures of half a dozen men swept into the firelight. the men were all heavily armed, and it was clear that they were angry from the top of their heads to the soles of their feet. three presented guns at the breasts of the boys while the other three stepped closer and began asking questions. "sure, we saw the ginks go by!" tommy answered in reply to the first question. "i reckon they won't have anything to ride in about an hour if they keep up that gait." "did they stop or say anything to you as they passed?" was asked. "i should say not!" replied tommy. "they went by like mexicans going to a bull-fight! they showed their guns, but they didn't say a word or do any shooting!" "what does it mean?" asked will, approaching the man who appeared to be the leader of the party. "it means," was the reply, "that those two fellows are wanted down in sweetwater county for holding up a train on the union pacific. a party of officers had them safe at green river a couple of days ago, but they broke loose in some way and came north." "it's a wonder they headed straight for our campfire!" will suggested. "that's what puzzles me!" the other said. "until i saw you were only boys, probably out on a vacation, i thought the robbers might be associates of yours." "i hope they won't think so, too," will answered. "we expect to stay here two or three weeks, and we don't want to get into any mixup." "they probably won't trouble you any," the officer remarked, "as they're undoubtedly headed for the bad lands in big horn county. if they get into that country we may as well give up the search." "well," will suggested, "they won't have any horses to ride before morning, and you may be able to overtake them after they slow down." "oh, we're going to keep on in pursuit!" cried the officer, "but we have little hope of overtaking them. they're probably five miles in the lead right now. they've been riding while we've been walking." "why walking?" asked the boy. "because they shot our horses," gritted the officer. after partaking of a midnight supper, including several cups of hot coffee apiece, the man-hunters continued on their way, looking longingly in the direction of the burros as they passed out of the light of the fire. "now that's what i call rotten!" tommy exclaimed as the voices of the men died away in the darkness. "we've just made camp in a place that looks good to me, and here comes a band of train robbers and a delegation of lynchers ready to make us all kinds of trouble." "i don't see why they should make us trouble," sandy objected. "well, they will just the same," will broke in. "they'll hang around the hills to the north, and officers will be chasing in after them, and, between them they'll give us a merry little time! if the messenger doesn't come tomorrow, we'll break camp and get into some other locality." "i should say so!" exclaimed tommy. "we went to lake superior and got into a nest of diamond smugglers, and we went to the florida everglades and got into a bunch of swamp outlaws and wreckers, and i've been counting on a nice quiet vacation this trip." "we surely do have bad luck on our outing trips!" laughed sandy. "but i rather enjoy the excitement after all!" he added, with a grin. "well, you wait until you get a band of train robbers shooting from one side, and a band of cowboys shooting from the other side, and you won't think it's so funny!" exclaimed george. while the boys talked they heard a rustling in the long grass to the north and east, and directly a figure, crouching low and apparently walking with great caution, appeared in view. "that's one now!" whispered tommy. "that's right!" returned sandy. "that's one coward!" "oh, i see," tommy whispered. "that's katz!" the stranger now approached the fire, swinging his rifle jauntily in his hand and throwing his shoulders back until his body swung forward with a decided strut. he looked from one boy to the other as he came closer, apparently seeking to learn from their expressions exactly what was in their minds. the boys' faces remained perfectly grave. "it's no use!" katz said in a moment, putting the butt of his gun down to the ground and leaning on the barrel. "it's no use whatever!" the boys eyed the speaker suspiciously, but said nothing. "i followed on as fast as i could!" katz continued. "but they were on horseback, and i was on foot, so what could i do? besides, it was too dark that i couldn't see to shoot," he went on. "oh, you went out after the robbers, did you?" asked will, not caring to call the fellow's attention to the fact that he ran away to the north before the riders made their appearance. "why, yes!" was the reply. "what else could i do?" the boys suspected that katz had returned to the vicinity of the camp in time to hear the officer explain exactly what was going on. they were satisfied that he had not pursued the horsemen at all after they had passed him, but decided not to enter into any argument with him. "well," will said in a moment. "if you'll all go to bed now, i'll sit up until morning. i don't suppose you boys care to be wakened if we have any more midnight visitors?" he asked tentatively. "you needn't wake me up for any running race!" tommy commented. "if it's all the same to you," katz suggested, "i prefer to sleep the remainder of the night. of course," he went on, "if you need me for your defence, you need have no compunctions in waking me." the boys laughed at the idea of calling upon the fellow to assist in defending the camp should necessity arise, and the object of their mirth glared at them suspiciously as he turned away to his tent. in half an hour the camp was quiet again, with will sitting in front of the fire reading. the coyotes and wolves, which had been frightened away by the shooting and the clatter of hoofs, now came forward again, and will was thinking seriously of taking a shot at a great gray beast when a soft call came from the darkness. "hello!" the voice said. "hello!" "come up and show yourself!" returned will. "will you give me something to eat if i come up?" "sure i will," replied the boy with a grin. "meals at all hours, you know! we usually run a hotel where we stop." "well you've got a customer right now!" came the voice from the darkness, and the next moment the figure of a lad of about fourteen made its appearance in the glow of the fire. will stood regarding the boy with open-eyed amazement for a moment and then swung his hand forward in the full salute of a boy scout. "that's all right!" the strange boy cried. "i'm glad to see that you're a boy scout. i mean to be one some day, but i'm only a tenderfoot now! i haven't had any chance for advancement yet." "what patrol?" asked will. "beaver, chicago!" was the reply. "that's my patrol!" exclaimed will in amazement. "you're the scoutmaster," the boy said, "i've seen you in chicago." "strange i don't remember you!" replied will. "oh, i'm only a tenderfoot," was the answer, "and of course, you don't know all the new boys!" "what are you doing here?" asked will. "i'm running away!" was the reply. "you see," the boy went on, "i got tired of living in chicago, and sleeping in alleys in summer and warm hallways in winter, so i just made up my mind i'd make a break for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." "but how did you come to walk up into this country?" "i started out to get a job herding sheep," was the answer, "and i kept travelling, and travelling, without getting any job, and so here i am, hungry, and ready to go back to chicago on the slightest provocation!" "what's your name?" "chester winslow." "well, chester," will laughed, "it won't take me long to get you something to eat, and then you'd better go to bed. you'll have to double up with another stranger who came along earlier in the evening, but i guess you can sleep two in a bed, especially as the bed is made up on the ground and you can't fall out." the boy ate a very hearty supper, and five minutes later will heard him snoring. when daylight came and the sleepers arose, katz stumbled out of his tent with angry exclamations on his lips. "what's doing here?" he shouted. "have i come into the home of the forty thieves? when i went to bed last night i had a police badge, and a rifle, and a revolver, and quite a lot of money! now i haven't got a thing except the clothes i've got on! what kind of a game do you call this? if it's a joke, it's a mighty poor one!" will went to the tent katz had occupied and looked inside. there was no one there, and he hastened back to the angry man. "where's the strange boy who slept with you last night?" he asked. "strange boy?" repeated katz scornfully. "you can't work that game on me! you boys have taken my property, and you'd better be giving it up! if you don't there'll be trouble!" "we're not afraid of any trouble from you!" tommy said, with an angry snort. "if you go to accusing us of stealing your stuff, you'll get your crust caved in!" then the boy turned to will with an interrogation point in both eyes. will saw the question and answered it. "shortly after midnight," he said, "a boy who gave the name of chester winslow, his age as fourteen, his rank as tenderfoot, came here and told a hard luck story about tramping from chicago. i gave him something to eat and put him to bed with mr. katz." "then the fellow is a little thief! that's all i've got to say about it!" exclaimed katz, not quite so aggressive, now that he saw that the boys were inclined to resent insults, and remembering that he had no revolver with which to enforce his demands! shortly after breakfast the figures of four burros, heavily laden, and two men appeared at the south, heading directly for the camp. "there's my associate bringing in the burros and the provisions!" katz shouted. "and there's our messenger!" whispered tommy to will. chapter iii the case is stated "it may be that your messenger has come in with my associate," katz blustered, as the little caravan came nearer to the camp, "but if i'm not very much mistaken, both men are here to assist me!" "you must need a lot of assistance!" tommy said, with a wrinkling of his freckled nose. "you look the part, too!" "now see here, young man," exclaimed katz, angrily. "i don't want any lip from you boys. i've been robbed in this camp, and as soon as my men come up i'm going to know whether my property is here or not!" "if you try any funny business with us," sandy cut in, "you'll get your block knocked off!" "we'll see about that when my men come up!" retorted katz, defiantly. "i'm not going to submit to being held up by four boys who ought to be spanked and put to bed instead of being permitted to roam about the mountains robbing unwary travellers." tommy was about to make an angry reply, but will motioned for him to remain silent. no more was said until the two men came up with their heavily-loaded burros. katz was first to address the newcomers. "well, cullen," he said, extending a hand to a short, heavily-built man with a dissipated-looking face, "i'm glad you came in on time. i am also glad that you brought a man in with you, and plenty of provisions," he added with a look of challenge at the boys. "why," replied cullen, "i don't know anything about this fellow with me. he came out of green river with his two burros just ahead of me, and so we decided to travel together. i should judge from what he said that he's looking for the camp we have just blundered into." katz stepped back as if annoyed at the statement, and finally drew cullen away to one side, where they engaged in a whispered conversation. in the meantime, the messenger advanced toward will and extended a sealed envelope. he was a well-built young fellow with a clean-shaven face which gave every indication of intelligence and determination. "i guess you're the boys i'm looking for," he said, with a smile, "i'm john johnson, of chicago, special messenger at this time for mr. horton." "we're glad to see you," will answered, shaking the young man's hand heartily. "we have been waiting for instructions, and, besides," he continued, "this cheap skate that you found here is trying to make us trouble over something which took place in the camp last night." "you think he's a cheap skate, do you?" johnson asked, with a significant smile. "well, i don't think anything about it. i know it. that's joe katz, one of the rankest plain-clothes policemen on the chicago force! the fellow who came in with me is ed. cullen, another imitation detective. now tell me what took place last night." will related the story of the arrival of the boy and of the claim made by katz in the morning. he explained how the detective had threatened them all when the loss of his property was discovered. also, how he had renewed his threats when he believed that he would have the backing of both newcomers. johnson smiled at the recital. "now, about this boy," he said, without referring to the two detectives or the threats. "i wish you would describe him to me as accurately as possible. tell me exactly how he looked and how he talked." will gave as complete a description of the boy as possible, and also repeated the account the lad had given of himself. johnson threw back his head and laughed until the echoes came back from the mountains. "well, boys," he said, "you seem to have lighted in a hornet's nest the first jump out of the box. and so the kid stole the detective's badge and weapons and money, did he?" he went on, with another roar of laughter. "that's about the best thing i've heard yet!" "i don't see anything funny about it!" replied will. "you will directly," replied johnson. "read your instructions, and then i'll tell you all about this boy, and all about these two imitation detectives. then you'll see how funny this incident is." will opened the sealed envelope and held up a sheet of paper which was entirely blank, except for eight words and a signature written in the middle of the page. the words were: "introducing mr. john johnson. he'll tell the story." the signature was that of the famous criminal lawyer who had induced the boys to undertake the mission to the great divide. "it won't take very long for me to read the instructions," will laughed, as the other boys gathered around him. "it seems to be up to you to tell us what we want to know!" "yes, that's the idea!" replied johnson. "mr. horton explained to me that he didn't care to put what he had to say to you into writing. but perhaps we'd better get rid of these imitation fly-cops," he added, nodding his head toward the two chicago detectives. "we don't want them hanging around the camp while we are making our plans." katz and cullen saw that they were being regarded with suspicion and at once came forward to where the boys stood. "i've been talking the matter of the robbery over with cullen," katz said, with a smile intended to be conciliating, "and he says that he's heard of this boy before, and that he's a noted thief. and so," the detective continued, "i'm very glad to be able to apologize to you for anything i might have said at a time when i was excited over my loss. i am satisfied now that you boys are friendly to me, and i sincerely hope that we'll often meet while we are in the hills." tommy was about to make some angry reply, as the insincerity of the man was plainly discernible, but will gave him a nudge in the back which caused him to change his mind. "and now," cullen began, "that everything is satisfactorily explained, perhaps we'd better be on our way!" "that's a fact!" exclaimed katz. "i'm very much obliged to the boys for their friendly shelter and their well-cooked meals, and i hope they'll all come and partake of our hospitality as soon as we make permanent camp. we'll take steps to let you know where we are," he added, as the two turned toward their burros and led off to the north. tommy could not give over the thought of landing an irritating observation as the men walked away by the side of their beasts. "remember," he cried, "that the two train robbers and the cowboy viligance committee went, in that direction last night! you fellows would better watch out, or you'll get mixed up with hold-up men!" katz turned an angry face toward the boy, muttered something to his companion, and went on without speaking. "those fellows won't dare to sleep a single night after that!" laughed johnson. "they're scared right now!" "i don't know anything about cullen," tommy answered with a grin, "but i know that the man katz is a false alarm. you should have seen him take to his heels last night, when the train robbers rushed through the camp. i'd like to know what he's in here for, anyway!" "that's the very thing i'm here to explain!" replied johnson. "the story," he continued, "begins with the death of thomas t. fremont, a chicago banker, some weeks ago." "i remember the case," will interrupted. "the police declare that the man was murdered, while his relatives insist that he might have committed suicide." "that's exactly the point," johnson went on. "the police are working on the theory that fremont was murdered at his private room at the bank one hot night in july. the relatives declare that there was no reason whatever for him to have committed suicide, yet they insist that he must have done so. now, understand me," johnson continued, "the relatives are all interested in the defense of a disinherited son of the banker who is charged with the crime of murder. and so, you see, when the police ask them to point to some one fact substantiating the suicide theory they are unable to do so. "the result of this peculiar situation is that the police insist that the relatives are advancing the suicide theory solely for the purpose of securing the acquittal of the son. to the average citizen, it would seem that the police are right. the son was always a thorn in the flesh of his father. he has squandered thousands of dollars in riotous living, and brought no end of disgrace on the family whose name he bears. and still the relatives insist that he is innocent, and are willing to spend a million in order to prevent his dying the death of a murderer. mr. horton represents the relatives." "i begin to see daylight!" will exclaimed. "i guess this case isn't such a little baby affair as we thought it might be!" "indeed it is no baby case!" exclaimed johnson. "the family of the dead banker have a well-defined theory concerning the death of the old man which might help their case with the police if they would only present it to the chief. this, however, they refuse to do, declaring that the police would only take advantage of the confidence and use the information received to the prejudice of the prisoner." "i don't blame them for doubting the honesty of the police!" declared tommy. "the detectives are certainly a bum lot!" "this theory," continued mr. johnson, "insists that there was a second person in the private office of the banker that hot july night. it is claimed that this person went to the office to secure financial help from the banker. it is said, too, that he possesses at this time positive proof, in the form of written documents, showing that fremont committed suicide. the family believes this proof to be perfect." "then why don't they find this fellow and bring him forward?" asked will. "that is just what they are trying to do," replied johnson. "that is just what you boys are expected to do!" he added with a smile. "you are expected to bring this witness forward, and so establish the innocence of the son. that's what you're here for." "that's nice!" exclaimed tommy. "that's an easy little undertaking for four school boys! when other means fail, hire boy scouts!" "that's right!" replied johnson. "and we won't see him if those two imitation detectives get to him first!" the boy went on. "and that's right too," johnson answered. "for my part, i can't understand how the chicago police department got wise to the whereabouts of wagner at this time. when it was arranged to send you boys out here in quest of him, it was understood that the police had no clue whatever as to his whereabouts. in fact, we all believed that the officers had abandoned the search for the escaped convict." "well, they're here all right!" sandy cut in. "and look here," he went on, "we've got something worse than imitation detectives in our midst! we've got a couple of train robbers, and a band of cowboy vigilantes!" "exactly!" johnson agreed. "and you've got something equally dangerous for the purposes of our cause. you've got that fourteen-year-old chester winslow, whose name isn't winslow at all, but chester wagner, son of the escaped convict!" "jerusalem!" exclaimed tommy. "that boy didn't do a thing to will, did he?" he added with a roar of laughter. "he told him a story about coming in on blind baggage, and sized up the camp, and stole the badge and the weapons and money of the detective sent in here to capture his father. just think of the kid coming in here and stealing the detective's badge! he'd have taken his necktie if he'd 'a' thought of it!" "i thought you'd see something humorous in the occurrence as soon as you found out about the boy!" laughed johnson. "the little rascal!" shouted sandy. "the nerve of him! to come in here and steal the badge of the detective sent out to catch his father! say," he went on, "i hope we'll run across that boy and make friends with him. i rather like his grit!" "you won't be apt to find him as long as he thinks it necessary to keep his father in hiding!" johnson suggested. "he's an awful little liar!" exclaimed will. "i guess you'd lie, too," laughed tommy, "if you had the same motive for lying that he had. he's standing by his father like a brick! and i won't lay it up against him if he tells lies enough to fill a book! he drew one friend in me when he stole that policeman's badge." "these detectives," will asked in a moment, "are here to take wagner back to the penitentiary if they can find him, i suppose?" "that's the idea! unless some one of the relatives has leaked, the police do not understand that wagner is a factor in the fremont case. they are here to take him back to the penitentiary if they can find him and that's all they know about it." "well," tommy exclaimed, "let them get him and take him back to the penitentiary! as soon as he gets run in for the remainder of his sentence he'll tell about being in the banker's private office that hot july night, and that will secure the release of the boy who is charged with the murder. it seems to me that the police are helping along this case." "not so you could notice it!" replied johnson. "the fact is," he went on, "wagner is entirely innocent of the crime for which he was convicted. he has had what the officers call a vindictive grouch on ever since the day he was sent to prison. in other words, he is at war with every person in the world except his son, the boy who told you such pretty fairy stories last night. if he is ever retaken and sent back to the penitentiary, he will never open his lips, not even if the accused son dies on the scaffold." "and that's another beautiful little complication!" exclaimed sandy. "the friends of the accused man," continued johnson, "must find wagner and contract to establish his innocence. if the police get him first, we lose our case. i say this positively because there is no doubt that he will kill an officer or two before he is taken. now you boys see exactly what you have undertaken to do." "it's interesting, anyhow!" tommy declared. "reads like a novel!" cried sandy. "think of that little rat coming here and stealing the detective's badge!" laughed george. "it's a sure thing he'll lead those amateur officers a merry dance while they are in the hills! if i could just get hold of him, i wouldn't mind helping him along now and then!" "well, get hold of him then," advised johnson. "but how?" asked will. "why, from this time on, you might as well try to catch a flea in a load of hay as to get your hands on that boy! he can find you, but you can't find him!" "but he was hungry last night!" tommy explained. "and he may become hungry again!" chapter iv a chase in the night shortly after dinner johnson decided to make a start on his return trip at once. it would take him, he said, two days in addition to the half day to reach green river, and he was due in san francisco on the evening of the third day. one of the burros was relieved of his burden of provisions and the young man started away, leaving the boys feeling rather lonely and also rather overloaded with responsibility! "do you really think wagner and the boy are out of provisions?" asked tommy as twilight settled down over the camp. "i don't see how they can procure provisions," will suggested. "we've just got to find out!" exclaimed sandy. "you must remember," he continued, "that this chester wagner is a tenderfoot in the beaver patrol, chicago. he's afraid of us, but we've just got to help him out! we wouldn't be good boy scouts if we didn't! suppose we put up a smoke signal for help and see if he'll come." "oh, yes, he'll come--not!" exclaimed tommy. "we can try it, anyway," insisted sandy. the lad carried embers from the campfire a short distance to the west and built another roaring fire. then he set about gathering green grass in order to make a greater volume of smoke. "you'll have to hurry with your telegraph apparatus," laughed george, "if you want the boy to read your signal by daylight. it'll be so dark in half an hour that he couldn't see a column of smoke fifty feet away! perhaps he isn't near enough to see them, anyway!" "if i do all i can," sandy declared, "i won't be to blame if he doesn't see them. i believe we ought to find some way to help that kid!" the fires were now burning at a great rate, and sandy heaped huge armfuls of green grass on top of the blazing sticks, with the result that two great columns of white smoke lifted to the evening sky. when the grass burned out and the smoke became thinner the boy put on more and sat listening patiently for some sound, watching intently for an answering signal from the hills. "i guess it's no good!" sandy declared, mournfully, as the third supply of grass burned down. "the chances are that the train robbers and the imitation detectives have frightened wagner and the kid out of the hills." "i don't believe he'll come if he does see it," will declared. after a time the boys permitted one of the fires to die out and began preparations for supper. tommy went back to one of the tents for the knives and forks directly, and in a moment came rushing back without any knives or forks but with a folded paper in his hand. "look here," he exclaimed excitedly, "while i was entering the tent something hit me a clip on the back. when i turned around to see what foolishness you fellows were up to, i found a piece of rock lying on the ground at my feet and close beside it, this piece of paper." "do you think the paper was wrapped around the rock?" asked george. "of course it was!" replied tommy. "you can see the folds now, and there's the place where a a corner of the rock cut a hole!" will turned a searchlight on the paper, now held outstretched in tommy's hands, and burst into a laugh as he read the words written there: "nix on the help signal." "the little rascal!" exclaimed tommy, reading the sentence. "he's wise, that boy!" declared sandy. "he thinks we're setting a trap for him," will explained, "and i can't say that i blame him much for sending just that kind of a message." "anyway," tommy went on, "it shows that he isn't far away. if he'll only hover around within reaching distance, we'll soon convince him that we don't mean him or his father any harm." "i wonder if he took any provisions with him when he ran away this time!" laughed george. "i really hope he did. that is, if they haven't got any in their own camp." the boys looked at the provisions which had been taken out for supper, and discovered that two loaves of bread and several tins of preserved meats had been taken. "good for him!" shouted tommy. after supper it was arranged that two of the boys should watch the camp until one o'clock, and then awake the others, who were to stand guard until morning. tommy and sandy were to take the first watch. "i don't think there's much use of anyone standing guard!" exclaimed will. "our lovely burros over there will probably lift up their voices if any stranger comes nosing around in the dark." "anyhow," tommy suggested, "we may be able to get sight of young wagner if we keep watch all night." will and george were in bed by nine o'clock, and then sandy and tommy began planning the excursion into the hills which each one, independent of the other, had determined to make. "now it's just this way," tommy began, "wherever those fellows are, they have a fire. it's september, but the nights are cold here, just the same. now, you remain here and watch the camp and i'll make my way to one of the summits to the north and take a peep over the country. if i see a campfire, and it isn't too far away, i'll sneak down and see whether it belongs to wagner, to the cheap detectives, to the train robbers, or to the cowboy vigilantes." "that's quite a collection of interests to be assembled in one spot on the great divide!" laughed sandy. "oh, we always get into some kind of a mess like this," grumbled tommy. "we could have a nice peaceful time catching wagner if the detectives, and the train robbers, and the cowboys had remained away. i hope the cowboys will catch the robbers and lug them out, anyway!" "i have an idea that the detectives will soon get tired of wandering around in the hills and meeting grizzly bears, and rattlesnakes, and wolverines every half hour." "grizzly bears!" exclaimed tommy. "what are you talking about grizzly bears for?" "there are more grizzly bears in wyoming," declared sandy, "than in all the other western states put together. the bad lands are full of them, and up in the yellowstone national park, they have them trained to eat with a knife and fork!" "all right!" exclaimed tommy. "i'll take your word for it, but i don't believe it! i know there are rattlesnakes, all right, but i don't believe there's a grizzly bear within a hundred miles of this spot!" the words were hardly out of the boy's mouth before a rumbling growl came to the ears of the watchers. "there!" cried tommy. "you've called the roll and that's the first response. but i'll bet he's the only one around here!" the boy added. sandy laid a hand on his friend's shoulder to invoke silence. "listen," he said, "that's no bear!" "perhaps it's a rattlesnake, then!" scorned tommy. "it's a boy!" declared sandy. "that's what it is!" both lads darted into the darkness, waving electric searchlights as they advanced, and calling out in such words as a boy scout would be apt to understand. they ran for some distance, until they fell over a bit of rocky ground, and then stood looking toward a point in the darkness from which a sound of footsteps came. "you go on back to camp," whispered tommy to sandy, "and make all the noise you can going, and talk to yourself, so he'll think we're talking together. i'll put out my light and follow that chump by the noise he makes. i guess i can do it all right!" "aw, let's both go," pleaded sandy. "one's got to go back to camp to put him off his guard!" insisted tommy, "run along, like a good little boy, now," he added with a grin. sandy departed, talking to himself, and trying his best to make noise enough for two boys, while tommy turned off his light and crept forward in the darkness in the direction of the sounds he had heard. for a time he seemed to gain on the person who was making his way some hundred yards or more ahead of him, but at last, try as he might, the sound of footsteps gradually died away, and there were only the sounds of the night in the boy's ears. he paused, after a time, and threw himself down on the rocky slope. the campfire seemed to be a long distance away, now, and the boy had just decided to give over his search at that time and return to the camp. when he started to rise, however, he found a heavy hand pressed down on either shoulder. his amazement was so great that for a moment he sat perfectly still. but there were cowboy vigilantes, train robbers, and detectives somewhere in the hills, so the boy was not quite so sure of the personality of the other as he had been at the first instant of contact. "well?" he said in a moment. "who are you?" came the question, not in the voice of a boy, but in the gruff tones of a man who was taking no pains to make a good impression. "a boy from the camp down yonder," tommy answered. the boy was thinking fast. this might be one of the detectives, or it might be one of the train robbers, or it might be one of the cowboys, or it might be the escaped convict himself. "what are you boys camping there for?" was asked. "vacation!" was the reply. "which way did the cowboys go?" was the next question. tommy needed no further introduction to the man who was clinging to his shoulders with a grip that was positively painful. no one but the train robbers would be apt to be interested in the direction taken by the cowboys. tommy declares to this day that he felt the hair rising straight up on his head when he realized that he was talking with one of the hold-up men. he also says that his teeth chattered with fright. "the last we heard of the cowboys," he answered, "they were going straight north. i thought you went that way, too," he added. "we couldn't get too far away from our base of supplies," replied the other with a cynical laugh. "we were just thinking of going back to your camp for a square meal when we heard you blundering up the slope. you'll have to feed us for a few days, young fellow!" chapter v a detective and a robber half way back to the camp, sandy crouched down at the sound of approaching footsteps. "i'll bet that's tommy trying to give me a scare," was the boy's thought. he listened intently for a moment, without hearing a repetition of the noise, and started on again. "if i thought that really was tommy," he mused, "i'd arrange a neat little surprise for him. he's always up to his tricks." the sound of heavy breathing came to his ears directly, and, not having the least doubt that the approaching figure was that of his chum, he waited for an instant until the labored breathing seemed to be passing the spot where he stood and leaped forward. much to his amazement he struck a pair of broad, muscular shoulders instead of the slender shoulders of his chum and felt himself in the grasp of a pair of powerful hands. "what are you prowling around in the night for?" was asked. sandy pulled away at the hand which was smothering him and taking the hint, his captor released him for a moment. "i can't talk with my mouth and nose all stopped up!" returned the boy. "what did you want to go and do that for?" "what are you prowling about in the night for?" repeated the other. sandy thought he recognized the voice as that of katz, the plain-clothes policeman who had lied on the previous evening regarding his residence and his calling. "i might ask the same of you," replied sandy, mopping his face with his handkerchief. "what are you prowling around for?" "keeping an eye on your camp," replied the other gruffly. "what for?" demanded sandy. "because you're suspicious characters." "you're katz, aren't you?" asked sandy. "who told you that?" snarled the other. "john johnson," was the reply. "i recognized him as one of horton's men," declared katz. "that's what he is!" sandy answered. "what has horton got to do with you?" "that's some more of our business!" replied the boy. "now, look here," the detective said in a moment, "we're here, as you probably know by this time, in search of an escaped convict. we have positive information that he is hiding somewhere in this district. we have brought in plenty of supplies, and intend to remain here until we find him. he's a slippery fellow, but we'll get him yet." "that doesn't interest me any," suggested sandy. "but i'm going to interest you in just about one minute!" declared katz. "the boy who stole my property and left your camp in the night is likely to return there at any time. we want that boy. will you help us get him? if you don't, you're likely to get into trouble yourselves." "i guess there isn't much chance of his coming back to us!" sandy answered. "i guess you know that yourself." "you know who he is?" ask the detective. "we've been told," was the reply, "that he is the son of the man you're hunting for, but we don't believe it." "well, we've made up our minds that he is," katz went on, "and we've also made up our minds to watch your camp until the boy shows up again. i'll teach him to steal my badge of authority!" "when you catch him," sandy requested, "just let us know. we want to see him ourselves. will you do that?" "i guess you'll see him before we do," replied katz, gruffly. "and now, if you don't mind," the detective went on, "i'll just go over to the camp with you and see what the other boys say about him. and while i'm there, you might make me a couple of cups of coffee. i'm a long distance from my camp and quite hungry." notwithstanding the impudence of the request, the boy consented to the arrangement and the two were starting away together when the sound of approaching footsteps was heard. "gee whiz!" exclaimed sandy. "this deserted country seems to me about like the corner of state and madison streets tonight. there's always some one walking around in the dark." "suppose we wait and see who it is," suggested the detective. now, sandy had an idea that one of the persons approaching was tommy and that the other might possibly be chester wagner. he had no notion of assisting the detective to get his hands on the boy, and so hung back when katz would have stepped forward to intercept those who were advancing toward him. thinking this an attempt to break away, katz caught the lad by the arm and held fast to him while the others went by. sandy was certain that he heard tommy's voice as the two passed, but was not certain that he recognized the voice of his companion in the low reply which was made. the boy realized that he must have occupied considerable time in his return to camp, after leaving his chum. "and so, one of your chums was prowling around in the darkness, too," snarled the detective. "who is that person with him?" "i don't know," answered sandy. "yes you do know, too!" gritted katz, "you just came from that direction yourself, and you probably left the two together when you came away." "you're off there," sandy answered. "i'll tell you what i think," the detective went on, "and that is that you boys have been out after that wagner kid. i believe he's going into the camp with your chum right this minute. anyway, i'll take you in and find out about it." as the two advanced toward the campfire they watched in vain for the two figures which had gone on ahead. "you walk in there and see whether that boy thief is there or not," commanded the detective. "and remember," he went on, threateningly, "that i'm waiting here in the darkness with an automatic revolver in my hand, so you'd better not attempt any funny business!" when he reached tommy's side he saw that the boy was frying bacon and eggs and making coffee. the large skillet used by the boys contained at least half a dozen eggs and about half a pound of breakfast bacon. "where's your friend?" sandy asked in a whisper. tommy laid a finger on his lips as a request for low-voiced conversation. all the time he kept busy with the skillet. "he's back there watching us with a loaded automatic in his hand," whispered the boy. "i wish one of the boys would get up and put a bullet through his head. that's what he deserves!" "who is it?" whispered sandy. "one of the train robbers!" was the startling reply. "where'd you get him?" "he geezled me out here on the slope!" "and came in with you and ordered his dinner?" "that's it!" was the reply. sandy sat down on the grass beside the fire and chuckled until he was red in the face. tommy almost permitted the bacon to burn while he watched his chum with wide-open eyes. "if that train robber should send a bullet out this way, you wouldn't think it so funny!" tommy declared. "he's a mighty suspicious fellow. he wouldn't permit me to wake any of the boys to help get supper." "look here," whispered sandy, "i've got that imitation detective out there waiting for me to tell him whether chester wagner is here or not. he says he's hungry, too, and insists that i give him a night lunch. now i'll tell you what we'll do," the boy continued. "i'll go and steer the detective up against the train robber, and we'll see what he'll do." before tommy could reply, sandy was away in the darkness, whistling softly to the detective. "say," he said, when katz came lumbering into the edge of the illumination, "the boy isn't there, but i've got good news for you, just the same. the man who went in with my chum is one of the train robbers the cowboys are in search of. there's ten thousand dollars reward offered for him, and all you've got to do is to walk in there, hold a gun to his head, and march him off to green river. you ought to give me half the reward, though," the boy added, "for you wouldn't have caught him only for me." "all right," whispered the detective in a shaking voice. "i'll creep back into the shadows and come up from behind. when you go back, point with your hand to where he is. i'll be right there with a gun on him in half a minute!" "all right," replied sandy, and the detective disappeared from view. then the boy walked back to tommy's side and explained what sort of circus there would be there in about a minute. chapter vi the call of the beaver "oh, i don't believe there'll be any circus!" whispered tommy. "and why not?" "because katz will get the fellow handcuffed so quick by that there won't be any fun in it! there's a big reward out for that fellow!" "huh!" grinned sandy. "you didn't see how scared the detective was when i told him the train robber was here by our fire. it's a hundred to one that the train robber will give the detective a swift kick in the pants and go back to his own camp." the boys listened and waited for a considerable length of time, but heard no evidence of the approach of the detective. "say," tommy whispered, "this is a pretty nice supper i've been getting for that robber. it looks good enough for me to eat myself!" "we can eat it after katz takes the robber away," suggested sandy. "i don't see anything of katz, do you?" asked tommy with a wink. "je-rusalem!" exclaimed sandy. "you don't think he's run away, do you? he wouldn't do that, i'm sure!" "he wouldn't," laughed tommy. "i'll bet that fellow's running away now with a face so pale it leaves a white streak in the night." "well, it takes him a long time to get here, anyway," admitted sandy. "you just wait a minute," tommy chuckled, "and i'll fix this business all right. you just tend this skillet until i come back." tommy moved away toward where the robber sat on the ground, watching every move that was made, and keeping a particularly keen eye on sandy, whose temporary absence from the camp had attracted his suspicions. "look here," tommy whispered, "we're not anxious to see you boys get into trouble, and so we're going to give you a tip. sandy went out a moment ago to steer away one of the detectives who came in from chicago last night." the hold-up man got softly to his feet and began moving out of the light of the fire. tommy urged him by look and a motion to remain where he was for the present. "i didn't know that there were any detectives from chicago in here," he said. "they must have made a quick jump to get here!" "i guess they did," replied tommy. "one of them was here before you were yesterday. he chased you up the valley, but came back, saying that he couldn't get a shot." "pretty nervy kind of a fellow, eh?" asked the train robber. "he looks to me," declared tommy, "as if he'd fight a rattlesnake and give him the first bite. he may have a swarm of his men in the vicinity of the camp, and if i were you, i'd turn away to the east and get out of sight as soon as possible." "i can't fight a whole army," declared the train robber, as, crouching low, he moved away. "wait a minute," whispered tommy chuckling so that he was afraid the other would discover the merriment in his voice. "why don't you wait and have some of the supper i've been cooking for you?" the train robber did not even pause to hear the conclusion of the boy's remarks, and tommy went back to the fire and lay down and rolled back and forth until sandy threw a cup of water into his face. "what do you think of that!" he exclaimed. "there's a bum chicago detective chasing off to the north at a forty mile gait, because he thinks there's a train robber after him, and there's a a train robber chasing off to the east at a forty-mile gait because he thinks there's a chicago detective after him! some day," the boy added, "i'm going to make a motion picture scenario of that." while the boys were enjoying the joke, will and george came out of the tent where they had been sleeping. both looked grave when the incidents of the night were related to them. "it means," will declared, "that we are suspected by the train robbers of harboring a detective, and suspected by the detective of harboring the convict and his son." "aw, they won't come back here again, any of them!" asserted tommy. "don't you think they won't," replied will. "here," he added, as tommy dipped into the skillet of bacon and eggs. "what are you boys doing with the third or fourth supper?" "i cooked this for the train robber!" grinned tommy, "how'd you like to have a few bites of it?" "i don't mind!" declared will. "of the four parties representing four diverse interests," will said, at the conclusion of the meal, "two have been represented here tonight. before morning we may receive a call from the cowboys and the escaped convict. the visits might not be very agreeable ones but, still, they would complete the roll-call." "you remember that trip to the florida everglades, don't you?" asked tommy, with a most satisfying yawn. "well, if you haven't forgotten all about it, you'll remember that we didn't have any sleep there for a couple of nights, and that i actually began to grow thin because of being kept awake so much." "it was your own fault," insisted sandy. "that may be," replied tommy, "but, all the same, i'm not going to let anything like that happen on this trip. i'm going to bed right now, and there's nothing on the face of the earth that can get me out of bed again until morning." "that's me, too!" declared sandy. the boys entered the tent recently vacated, drew down the flap and were soon in bed, and asleep. will and george, sitting by the fire, discussing the unusual combination of circumstances, heard a succession of sounds which any member of the beaver patrol, boy scouts of america, would have recognized instantly. it was the beaver call which consists in slapping the open palms together violently in imitation of the play of the flat tail of the beaver upon the surface of the water. "slap, slap, slap!" came the challenge from the darkness. "that's a beaver!" exclaimed george. "slap, slap, slap!" went the reply from will's open palms. "why doesn't he come in?" asked george in a moment. "i guess i'll have to go and find out!" declared will. "this, you see," he added with a smile, "is the third interest to be represented here tonight. there is no doubt but that we'll hear from the cowboys before morning. it never rains but it pours." "slap, slap, slap!" came the call from the darkness again. will gave a low whistle in recognition of the signal and stepped forward. an answering whistle directed his steps, and presently he saw the light of the fire shining on the pale face of the lad who had stolen the badge of office from the detective. "why didn't you come on in?" asked will. "why," was the reply, "i wasn't afraid of you boys, but i didn't know who might be watching the camp. i've been loitering around here most of the time since dark and just got the courage to call you out. some one chased me away once." "are you hungry?" asked will. "if you are, now's the time to say so. last call for dinner in the dining car!" "yes, i'm hungry," was the reply, "but i haven't got time to wait for supper. if you'll snatch a loaf of bread and can of something and come along with me, you'll do the greatest favor one boy scout ever did for another. you'll come, won't you?" "sure i will," was the reply, "and i'll bring something more than a loaf of bread and a can of something," he went on. "you can't carry much," replied chester, "for we've got a rocky road to climb, and we'll have to go fast, too!" "you haven't told me what the trouble is, yet!" "it's father!" the boy answered hesitatingly. "i suppose you know now that i didn't tell you the truth when i was at your camp. i saw john johnson there after i stole that bum detective's badge and ran away, and i suppose he told you all about me." "yes, he did," replied will, rejoicing inwardly that the very thing they had been wishing for had taken place. all he had to do now was to win the confidence of the boy, find his way to the father, and so clear up the mystery of the fremont case. "yes," will went on, "he told me all about you and all about your father, and i've been wondering ever since how you, a boy scout, could find the nerve to make up such a mess of lies as you told to me." "i wanted to find out what you were here for, and who you were, and get something to eat," replied the boy, "and so i told you the first thing that came into my head. and now," he continued, "i'm going to tell you something that i wish might be classed as a fairy tale later on." "go ahead," answered will. "two days ago i had no idea that i'd ever become mixed up in the fremont case, but i'll tell you right now that i'm becoming interested in it." "a few days ago," the boy began, "father fell from a ledge of rock near our hiding place and injured his head. i have taken as good care of him as i could, but it was impossible for me to remain with him all the time, because i had to fish and hunt and provide food for both of us." "you're welcome to any provisions we have," said will, feeling genuine sympathy for the boy. "that isn't the point now," chester went on. "while i was in your camp last night waiting, for the chance to steal provisions to take back to father, he left the hiding place. i know he's out of his head, and so i believe him to be wandering about the hills in a demented condition. there's no knowing what will happen to him if he is not found and placed in hiding again. i want you to go and help me find him. the detectives who came in last night, or some time yesterday, are here to take him back to prison, and they're likely to get him at any minute if he continues to wander about while insane from the recent injury to his head. there's no one to help me but you. will you go?" here was the very chance the boy scouts had been waiting for. chapter vii arrested as spies "of course, we'll go with you!" replied will, in answer to the boy's anxious question. "do you think anything can be done tonight?" "i think we ought to begin the search tonight," replied chester. "one of father's hobbies is the campfire. it is my idea that if he has matches he will build himself a rousing fire, if he comes to dry wood. if he doesn't do this, he's likely to make his way to the first campfire he sees. i was in hopes that he'd come here." will called his chums into the tent for a general discussion of the matter, chester remaining just outside the fire line. the boy seemed to have a mortal fear of being watched and followed. before entering fully into the conference, will carried a liberal supper out to the hungry boy. chester said that he had eaten very little since disposing of the provisions taken from the camp. owing to the sudden disappearance of his father, he had not had time to hunt and fish. will thought he had never seen a boy eat so industriously. "why don't he come into the tent," queried tommy, as will returned. "he's afraid some one's watching the camp," was the reply. "what if there is some one watching the camp," tommy insisted, "they'll see something's going on and follow us when we go away with chester. so he might just as well come on in!" "watch us when we go away?" repeated george. "who do you think is going away with the boy in search of his father?" "i'm going, for one!" declared tommy. "not so you could notice it!" will cut in. "you and sandy have been doing all the scouting tonight, and now george and i will take a turn at it!" tommy winked slyly at sandy but said nothing. will, however, caught the look which passed between the two boys, and declared that he meant to tie them both up before he left the camp. "you boys are always running away, and always getting into trouble!" he declared. "you remember what a scrape you got us into down in the everglades. if it hadn't been for the seminole, you'd 'a' had us all under ground before we'd been there two days!" "aw, who said anything about leaving camp?" demanded sandy. "no one said anything about it," returned the other, "but i understand what you boys have in your minds, and i'll tell you right now that i don't think it's right for you to leave the camp until we return." "of course we won't!" declared tommy. "well, i've said all i'm going to say about it!" will went on. "of course, you'll go if the notion comes into your heads, anyway, so what's the use? i hope you'll get into something that'll keep you home for a week if you do go out tonight." "all right," laughed tommy. "we know all about you! if we got into trouble anywhere, you'd be the first one to help get us out." "and now about plans for the search," will went on, without seeming to notice the last remark of the boy, "it is nearly midnight now, and we may not be back by morning, so perhaps we'd better take something to eat with us. we may be miles from camp at sunrise." "and when we find wagner, we may find a hungry man," george added. "that's a fact!" cried tommy darting away to the provision box. in a very short time the boy brought a great package of egg and ham sandwiches to the two lads who were about to start away. "now, don't eat all this truck before sunrise," tommy advised. "as george says, when you find wagner, you'll find a hungry man." after stowing the sandwiches away in their pockets, and seeing that their automatics and searchlights were in good condition, the boys went out to the place where they had left chester and found him sound asleep in the long grass. "the poor fellow is about all in!" exclaimed george. "i wish we could get him to remain in camp while we make the search!" will suggested. "he's in no shape to take a long trip into the mountains." "and still," george began, "we haven't any idea where to look for his father. and the boy may have a very clear notion as to where to look first. i guess, after all, we'll have to take him with us!" "i suppose so," will agreed, "but i tell you what we can do. we can get him to tell us what he knows about his father's habits and inclinations, and then ask him to rest up while we investigate some of the points suggested. perhaps he'll do that." "i guess he'll have to!" smiled george. "he's so sound asleep now that we could carry him bodily into the tent and he'd never know it!" it was quite a difficult task to wake the boy, but at last when he sat up rubbing his eyes he pretended, as all boys will, that he had just dozed off for a minute. "i was pretty tired," he declared, "and i guess the supper i ate made me a little bit sleepy." "well," will said, "we may as well be on our way. i suppose you'll take us first to the place where you and your father have been hiding." "that was my intention." the sky was clearing now, and the light of the stars made it possible for the boys to walk at a swift pace over the level valley and up the easy slope which led to the top of a low and rocky range of hills lying at the western foot of atlantic peak. when the boys finally reached the summit of the ridge, chester led the way down an incline facing the east to a gulch which ran in between the great mountain and the lower range. "here's where we've been stopping," he said, pointing to what is known in that part of the country as a limestone cave. "it's quite comfortable in there if you have a fire near the entrance, and no one can see the blaze from the valley, so it's reasonably safe." the boys stepped into the cavern and looked around. a rude couch had been made of the boughs of spruce and white pine, and saplings had been roughly hewn into a table and two chairs. "you must have been here some time?" asked will, pointing to the skins on the floor. "several long, dreary weeks," was the reply. "did you come here with your father?" "yes, we came together." "were you with him in chicago just before he left for wyoming?" the boy opened his eyes wider. "how did you know we were ever in chicago?" he asked. "we know more about your father and yourself than you think we do." "perhaps," said the boy suspiciously, "i have done wrong in asking you for assistance." "oh, you've come to the right shop for help," george cut in. "you'll find that we'll help you while you're in the hills, and continue to help you after you get out of the hills. you're a beaver, you know." it was on will's lips to tell the boy exactly why they were there, and how glad they were that he had come to them in his trouble, but he refrained from doing so. after half an hour's walk they came to the place where the gulch opened into a small valley. "i think," chester said, as they stepped into one of these openings, "that father may be hiding somewhere in this vicinity." "do you think so," asked will, "because of that light in there?" "i didn't see any light when i spoke," replied the boy, "but i see the reflection of a fire now. it must be some distance from this opening." the boys moved forward softly until they came near a campfire which was in a passage connecting the cave they were in with one to the north. when they came close enough they saw three figures sitting before the fire. chester clutched will fiercely by the arm and declared that one of the men was his father. he was for rushing forward immediately, but the boys held him back. "if the other fellows are the detectives," george suggested to will, "it's all up with us, unless we can get him away." "but they are not the detectives," replied will. "those fellows are the men who are wanted for the union pacific train robbery!" while the boys were advancing the three men at the fire disappeared as if by magic! the next moment the circle of light showed the figures of half a dozen cowboys darting hither and thither in search of the men who had taken themselves off so suddenly. believing that the cowboys might be induced to assist in the search for the missing man, the boys advanced toward the fire. as they did so the cowboys swarmed down upon them. before they could utter a word of protest they were securely bound with ropes and dragged to the opening. "we didn't get the robbers," the man who seemed to be leader of the party said, "but we can amuse ourselves lynching these spies!" chapter viii a midnight bear hunt "i have heard," tommy said with a wink, soon after the departure of the boys, "that the best time to get a grizzly bear rug for a boy scout club room in chicago is at moonrise." "i think i've heard something like that, too," sandy answered, with a grin. "that is," he went on, "if you want to get a grizzly bear rug for a boy scout club room in chicago in the month of september." "yes," tommy admitted, "i think the month of september was mentioned in the information i received on the subject." "and the best place to get a grizzly bear rug for a boy scout club room in chicago," sandy laughed, "is in a range of foot hills built mostly of limestone. you see," the lad continued, "water washes out limestone and leaves caves and holes which the bears occupy. sometimes these caves and holes furnish accommodation for a whole family of baby bears, i have heard, so we may be able to take a pet cub back to chicago with us. that would be pretty poor, i guess!" "well," tommy said, rummaging the provision box, "if we start out to get a couple of grizzly bear rugs for a boy scout club room in chicago, we probably won't get back before sunrise, so we may as well take a little something to eat with us." "trust you for always taking something to eat with you!" laughed sandy. "it's a sure thing you'll never starve to death." the boys provided themselves with plenty of sandwiches and a couple of cans of pork and beans and, after seeing that the fire was safe and not likely to spread to the tents and provisions, and after changing the feeding ground of the burros so that they had plenty of grass, started away toward the foothills. "of course," tommy said as they walked along, "we may find wagner while we are looking for bear, and will and george may find bear while they're looking for wagner. i've heard of such things before now." the boys crossed the valley to the foothills and clambered up the slope not far north of the spot where their chums and chester had gained the summit. they descended into the gulch, too, and turned to the left. "now," tommy said, seating himself on the slope, "the moon ought to be up in half an hour. i've heard that at the time the moon comes up bears leave their beds in search of food. we'll just sit here on the slope and watch the line of foothills." "and i suppose," sandy scoffed, "that you've got a notion in your nut that a couple of grizzly bears will come walking out into the gulch, take off their hides, and make you a present of them in a nice little speech." "now don't get smart, freshy!" exclaimed tommy. "according to all accounts, the walls of many of these foothills are punctured with limestone caves. there's where the bears live. from where we sit we can see a long ways to the north, as soon as the moon rises and we may be able to catch sight of a grizzly coming out for an early lunch." the lads were seated not very far from the entrance to the cavern which had been occupied by wagner and his son, but they had no knowledge of the fact. it was not their purpose to investigate one cavern at a time, but to watch the valley for anything that might come out of any one of them. they could see only a short distance when they halted but presently the moon lifted into the sky and diffused a faint light over the hills. it would be some minutes before the direct rays would, strike into the gulch, and so the boys waited, hiding in the shadows, for that time to come. "i guess we've got one already," tommy observed, whispering the words excitedly in his chum's ear. "i don't see anything that looks like a grizzly." "can't you see that there's a movement in the shadows about a hundred feet, to the north?" asked tommy. "i see something moving but i can't tell what it is." "it's a bear!" shouted tommy, taking no pain now to control his voice. "yes," exclaimed sandy, "and it's two bears, if anybody should ask you, and they're coming this way!" "then we'd better get back a little ways," advised tommy. "i should say so!" cried sandy. "at least we want to get into a position where they can't get in behind us." the boys turned back a few paces and sought a position where their backs would be supported by the almost perpendicular wall of the bluff to the west. then sandy grinned as he pointed to the south. "i guess this is a bear convention," he said. "there's another grizzly old scout coming from the other way." "three bear rugs," chuckled tommy. "say, look here!" sandy exclaimed. "do we stand here and let these brutes come up and smell of our clothes before we do any shooting?" "we don't do any shooting from here," tommy answered moving back to the south. "if we should wound those big brutes without shutting off their motive power, they'd chew us into rags, in about three minutes. we've got to get some place where we can run!" "then what'd you back up against this rock for?" demanded sandy. "i didn't know how many bears there were in the world," grinned tommy. the boys moved a few paces and stopped at the mouth of a cavern. tommy threw his searchlight into the interior and saw only bare walls. on his right as he looked in, appeared to be some sort of connection with the cave beyond. "gee--whiz!" he exclaimed. "there seem to be passages and corridors in this big bear tenement building. i wonder if there isn't an elevator, too." "i wouldn't mind going up a few hundred feet!" suggested sandy. the bears came lumbering along toward the cavern where the boys stood, apparently not much interested in the visitors. when the moon rose they snuffed about the crevices along the slope, and finally fixed their attention on the spot where the boys were standing. both boys, realizing that a mistake had been made, dashed into the cavern and kept firing as the animals came into view, rather sharply outlined now against the growing moonlight. "now you have done it!" cried sandy. "aw, what have i done?" demanded tommy. "we came out to get grizzly rugs for our clubroom in chicago, didn't we?" "yes, and you went and fired without killing them, and now we've been chased into a hole! if they've got the sense to stand there and wait for us to come out, they'll have a feast of boy flesh in a few hours." "huh!" exclaimed tommy, "i didn't see you bringing down any of the bears, and you shot as often as i did." "it sure was bum shooting," admitted sandy. the bears were now out of view, but the boys knew that they were still watching the entrance to the cavern. tommy's searchlight showed the entrance to the connection between the two caverns, and the boys lost no more in changing their position. tommy looked out of the entrance to the hiding place and saw that the brutes had shifted their quarters and were watching from a new position. "i guess we've got into the kind of a mess will predicted," tommy declared. "this looks like we'd have to stand a siege." tommy moved to the side of his chum and fired a couple of shots at the sentinel outside. "look here," sandy advised. "you'd better save your bullets!" "all right!" tommy answered. "i suppose that's what we're here for--to save bullets!" "well, you needn't be throwing them away where there's no chance of hitting anything," grumbled sandy. tommy retreated into the cavern and began investigating the wall with his searchlight. "if we could only find another corridor in this steam-heated old collection of bear traps," he said, "we might get out of sight of the brutes. i wish we could find a hole leading up to the roof!" the boys finally found a small opening which led into the wall on the south. after investigating and finding that it connected only with the cavern they had just left, the boys turned back. tommy, who was in the lead, sprang back when he came to the main cave with a suddenness which almost threw his chum to the floor. "now we've gone and done a fine thing!" he cried. "the bears are out there in the cave we're shut in good and tight!" chapter ix lynching is threatened "spies!" repeated will, indignantly, as the cowboys gathered around. "yes, spies!" exclaimed the leader of the party excitedly. "you thought you pulled the wool over our eyes down at your camp the other night, but you didn't! we have good reason to believe that the robbers have visited your camp every day and that you fed them!" "that isn't true!" declared george angrily. "if you're not in with these bandits, what are you doing here?" demanded another member of the party. "why, we came in search of--" will closed his teeth with a snap as he realized that on no account must he reveal the real motive for this night visit to the cavern. "go on!" shouted the leader. will glanced significantly at george and remained silent. chester seemed about to speak, but george gave him a nudge with his elbow and the boy remained silent. "you said you came here in search of some one!" the leader demanded. "i didn't say anything of the kind," will contradicted. "well, out with it! what did you say?" "i was about to say that we were prowling around just for the fun of the thing." "prowling around in the ante-room of a robbers' den in the middle of the night just for the fun of the thing!" laughed the leader. "that story is so bald that it's funny!" laughed another member of the party. "you ought to make up something better than that!" "it's the truth!" answered george. "look here!" the leader exclaimed. "if you boys'll tell us where those three men went to, we'll take you into green river and see that you have a fair trial. if you don't, we'll string you up right here in the mountains!" "we don't know where they went!" answered will. a member of the party who had been called seth by his companions now stepped forward and began an examination of the boy scout badges which adorned the coats of the two lads. "where did you get them?" he asked. "chicago," was the reply. "the beaver patrol, i see," the man went on. "yes, sir!" replied will. "you look like a young man," george cut in. "were you ever a boy scout?" "hardly," was the reply, "but i have a son who is very much interested in the organization. he belongs to the eagle patrol, at lander, and i hear nothing but boy scout rules, and tactics, and that sort of thing, from morning till night." "well, he must be a good lad if he's a faithful boy scout," will suggested. "he certainly must be all right!" "indeed he is!" seth answered. "he's a good boy, and i hope some day that he'll have the right to wear a badge like that," pointing to the scoutmaster emblem on will's hat. "how many of these medals has he?" asked george, pointing to the ambulance, stalker, seaman and pioneer medals on his sleeve. "oh, i don't know," seth laughed. "he comes home every day or two and says he's going to have a new one! look here, lad," the man added glancing apprehensively back at his companions, "why don't you tell the truth and get out of this scrape in the easiest possible way?" "we have told the truth," was the reply, "except that we didn't come out just for the fun of the thing. we came out for a purpose which we can't disclose at this time. we blundered on the train robbers, and have no more idea of where they went than you have." "look here seth," the leader of the party exclaimed. "if you can't make those boys tell the truth, just cut out this conversation. we've got work to do tonight!" "i think they are telling the truth!" seth answered. "oh, i guess you know better than that!" laughed the leader. "you're interested in them because they claim to be boy scouts, and i suppose you're taking in everything they say." "i think the boys are all right!" insisted seth. "it doesn't make any difference what you think!" replied the other angrily, "if they don't tell the truth, they're going to swing in less than half an hour!" "i can't stand for that, pete," seth answered. "who's sheriff of this county?" demanded the man who had been called pete. "i suppose you think you're boss of this expedition." "i don't think anything of the kind," was the reply, "but i'm not going to see these boy scouts murdered without a hearing, and if you attempt anything of the kind, you'll never be sheriff of this county again! i can tell you that much." the four other members of the party were now whispering together some distance away. as they whispered, they glanced furtively from the boys to the man who was trying to protect them. "look here, pete," one of them said, as they all stepped forward, "we don't see any necessity for this halt in the proceedings just because seth has a lad that belongs to the boy scouts." "that's right," another member of the party declared. "just you say the word and we'll string these boys up in a holy minute!" "not with my consent!" exclaimed seth. "i'm not murdering babies! and if you fellows attempt anything of the kind, there'll be trouble!" "look here," the sheriff said, addressing will. "you boys go off in a corner somewhere and talk this thing over. here's a pretty decent kind of a fellow, a neighbor of mine, getting into trouble on your account. now you go and talk the thing over, and see if you can't decide to tell the truth and help him out as well as yourself." "why can't you tell him the whole story?" asked chester as the boys grouped themselves in a shadowy corner of the cave. "why don't you tell him just why you came out tonight, and how we happened to come into the cavern. i don't believe they'll do us any harm if you tell the truth." "now, look here, kid," will answered, "if we tell the cowboys that we came into the hills hunting for a demented man, they'll want to know who the demented man is, and why he came into the hills without any supplies. can't you understand that?" "if he does," replied chester, "i'll tell him all about it." "if you do," will continued, "the cowboys will join in the search for your father, and when they catch him, they'll turn him over to the two detectives who are now in the hills searching for him." chester turned pale as death and shrank back against the wall of the cave. his voice was piteous as he asked: "so you know all about that, too, do you?" "yes," answered will, "and we don't want the officers to get hold of your father. if they do, it will spoil all our plans, because they'll take him back to the penitentiary, and that would make new trouble for our friend. we want to find him ourselves." "but i don't understand--" "i know that you don't understand," will declared, "and this is no time nor place to give you the information you lack." "but i'll see father taken back to prison before i'll see you two boys lynched!" insisted chester. "you'd better think the matter over carefully," will advised. "the chances are that they won't believe anything we say to them now." "well!" the sheriff called out impatiently. "have you boys reached a conclusion?" "we have already told you everything which can possibly interest you!" will answered. "we have nothing more to say!" "then bring out your rope, boys!" the sheriff shouted. seth threw a hand back to his pistol pocket and faced the sheriff angrily. the sheriff's eyes flashed vengefully. "i protest against this murder!" seth exclaimed. "if you don't want to take a hand in the proceedings, get out!" ordered the sheriff. "we can do the work without you!" "i don't propose to see these boy scouts murdered!" seth declared. every member of the party now held a gun in his hand, and it seemed to the boys that a desperate battle must take place. they drew their own revolvers and stood side by side with their defender. "take those guns away from the kids," shouted the sheriff, addressing two of his men. "we ought to have attended to that before this!" "don't you try it!" seth said calmly. "i'll shoot the first man that lays a hand on one of them!" while the two parties stood facing each other, each ready to begin shooting at the slightest provocation, a volley of shots came from up the gorge. the angry men turned their eyes toward the entrance to the cavern and the sheriff threw up his hand in a command for an armistice. "the train robbers may be out in the gulch shooting up some one now!" he exclaimed. "we ought to see about this!" "yes," seth exclaimed, "there's no use of our coming to blows over this matter. if the robbers' hiding place can be found, we can make them tell whether these boys are mixed up in their affairs or not." "that's right!" exclaimed another member of the party. "if the boys will give up their guns and promise to make no attempt to escape, we'll investigate this shooting and give them the benefit of every doubt there is in the case. will you do that, boys?" the lads handed their weapons to seth and moved out toward the gulch. when the party passed out of the cavern they found no one in sight. while they stood listening and watching more shots came from the south and they all moved up in that direction. the moon was now shining brilliantly and the whole gulch was in view. "strange where that shooting is!" seth exclaimed. "it's in the caverns up to the north, and that means that the train robbers have been brought to bay!" exclaimed the sheriff. as the party started up the gulch, will drew seth aside and whispered a few words into his ear. chapter x one danger to another "how do you know the bears are out there in the cave?" sandy asked, as tommy drew back into the smaller cavity. "just take a peek out, if you don't believe me." sandy did take a peek out, and sprang back with a face which looked as white as a sheet of paper under the rays of tommy's electric searchlight. "one of 'em took a swipe at me!" he said. the boys turned their searchlights on the entrance and waited patiently for some moments for the bears to present themselves in the illuminated circle, but the animals seemed to understand that there was danger under the light, and remained around the angle of the wall. "what are you going to do?" asked tommy, presently. "blessed if i know!" answered sandy. "we might rush out and fill 'em full of lead," suggested tommy. "not for me!" the other answered. "they'd get in one good crack at us before we could pull the trigger, and then it would be 'good-night!'" "how long do you think they'll stay here?" asked tommy. "the bear has the reputation of being a stayer," replied the other. "well, in time," tommy said, "we'll have to make a break. we've got about enough provisions for breakfast, and after that, we'll be on the verge of starvation as long as we remain here. so far as i can see, we may as well make a break right now." "i'm game for it," replied sandy. "we'll dazzle their eyes with our searchlights, and fire a whole clip of bullets without stopping. perhaps that'll bring them down or cause them to run away." "all right!" tommy agreed. "we'll round the corner together with our searchlights held in front and begin shooting." "and don't make any mistake about shooting straight!" advised sandy. "i don't want will and george to know that we ever got into a mess like this. you know what they said about our coming away tonight, anyhow!" "sure, i know!" admitted tommy. "and i'd rather have one of the bears bite off an arm than to have them know we got into a scrape we couldn't get out of without their help." "well, here goes, then!" cried sandy. without waiting for his chum he sprang around the corner or the wall, his electric advanced, his automatic ready for instant use. as he turned the corner one foot caught on a loose rock and he half fell to the ground. as he did so, tommy saw a hairy paw shoot out with vicious force and brush and scrape across the boy's shoulder. tommy heard the boy's coat ripping and tearing under the clutch of the great claws, and heard his chum utter a piercing scream as the wicked claws touched the flesh. it seemed to tommy that the figure of his chum, now lying prostrate on the floor of the cavern with the head extending outward, was being drawn away from him by the claw which still clung to the shoulder. he raised his automatic to fire and pushed his searchlight forward. the bear's eyes closed for an instant under the strong finger of light, and the bullet caught him, exactly in the center of the forehead. he dropped with a savage growl, scrambled, to his feet again and dashed toward tommy, who fired shot after shot at the advancing animal, but apparently without avail. in a moment all three bears, doubtless excited by the smell of blood, sprang before the entrance to the little cave where tommy stood. for the moment the animals paid no attention to sandy, still, lying prostrate on the floor, blood oozing from the wounded shoulder. tommy fired shot alter shot as the bears came on. for the first time in his life tommy realized that the next moment might be his last. he saw sandy lying bleeding on the floor. he saw three savage, pain-maddened animals rushing upon him and worked the trigger of his automatic until the clip was spent. then he hurled the useless weapon at the nearest animal and seizing sandy by the feet, dragged him farther into the cavern. "i guess it's all off now," he mused as the bears stood hesitating and apparently ready for a spring. "i wish we'd left a note for will." he heard the clatter of sharp claws on the rocky floor, saw the pig-like eyes of the animals shining red under the light, heard their spasmodic breathing, and was about to make a desperate rush forward when the outer cavern was flooded with a racing light which grew and grew as tommy looked. then he heard the sound of feet. next came a volley of shots, followed by the shouts of men and the call of a voice that he knew. "tommy!" the voice cried. the boy did not answer instantly, for his eyes were fixed upon the squirming figures of the bears. they had fallen under the shots and were weaving about the floor, snarling and snapping at each other and at themselves in their blind rage. several more shots came, and then the animals lay still. "tommy!" came the voice again. "that's will!" said sandy faintly. "cripes! are you alive?" demanded tommy. "i wouldn't be talking if i was dead, would i?" asked sandy, speaking in a very faint tone of voice. "sandy!" came the voice again. "hello!" called tommy. "come on out!" cried will. "we're coming!" sandy answered. the next moment the flashlights carried by will and george swept into the cavern, revealing the true condition of affairs. the two boys sprang to sandy's side and raised him into a sitting position. sandy smiled weakly but said nothing. "where is he hurt?" asked will, facing tommy. tommy pointed to the boy's bleeding shoulder. "one of the bears swatted him," he said. the cowboys now gathered in front of the little cavern and gazed at the group with excited interest. "what's coming off here?" the sheriff asked. "this kid's coat's coming off, for one thing," answered will, with a slight smile as he drew away at one sleeve. "he's been cut by the bear, and we want to see how badly he's wounded." seth stepped forward to assist in the removal of the coat, but the sheriff laid a hand on his arm and drew him back. "if those two boys have guns," he said, "get them away from them!" "what's that?" demanded tommy, gazing at the sheriff indignantly. "you're all under arrest," thundered the officer, "and i demand that you give up your weapons." "you'll find my gun out there in the cavern somewhere," tommy answered. "i threw it at the bears after the last bullet had been fired." will put his hand into sandy's pocket as if feeling for a gun but found none there. "i dropped it in the cavern," the boy said. "there are no bullets in it, anyway. i shot 'em all at the bear." sandy's wound proved to consist only of several scratches in the flesh of the shoulder, but will explained to the sheriff that it would be necessary to take him out to where water could be obtained in order that the injury might be properly dressed. "come along, then," the sheriff consented. "we've had enough of this underground hole, anyway." tommy looked longingly at the three dead bears as he passed out. "i'm coming back here to get those rugs," he whispered to will. "and i'm coming back here and get some bear steak," george contributed. "what are you boys talking about?" demanded the sheriff. "aw, what's eating you?" demanded tommy, who did not at all understand the situation. "you want to keep your clam closed." the sheriff turned back and eyed the boy with anger and amazement depicted on his rather heavy features. "you're one of these boy scouts, i presume?" he snarled. "yes, sir," answered tommy. "proud of it!" "then perhaps you can tell me where those train robbers are hiding." "i would if i could!" replied the boy. "what are you kids out at this time of night for, anyway?" was the next question. "you ought to be in bed." "we came out to gather a couple of bear rugs for a boy scout clubroom in chicago," answered tommy, with a slight grin in will's direction. "and what did those boys come out for?" the sheriff asked, pointing at will and george and the boy in whose interest they had left camp. tommy had no means of knowing what stories the boys might have told regarding their presence in the mountains, and so he decided to dodge the question. this seemed the only safe way. "ask them!" he said after a short silence. by this time the whole party was out in the gulch, standing full in the moonlight. the men conferred together for some moments, and then the sheriff turned to the other members of the party. "get your ropes, boys," he said. "we haven't got time to fool with these boys any longer." "i protest against this action," shouted seth. "you, pete, are sheriff of this county, and it is your duty to enforce the laws. if you permit this lynching to take place in your presence, you'll be guilty of the crime of murder, and i warn you that you'll be prosecuted." tommy and sandy looked at their chums questioningly. they did not at all understand what was going on. will and george were binding up the wound with bandages which they had long carried for use on just such an occasion as this. "i think i know my duty," answered the sheriff. "wyoming officers are being made the laughing-stock of the whole world because of the frequency of these train robberies. in nearly every instance, lately, the outlaws have escaped, principally because of assistance given them by such people as we have here under arrest." the men removed ropes from under their coat and began to unwind them. seth drew his revolver and waited. chapter xi a wyoming hold-up the four men stepped forward toward the boys with the ropes in their hands. the boys stood facing the crowd with unflinching eyes. "i warn you!" shouted seth. "wait!" chester cried, stepping forward. "if you're doing this because my friends won't tell why they are in the mountains of wyoming, and why they are out in the hills tonight, you may as well hold your hands. i'll give you all the information on the subject you desire." will stepped forward and caught the boy by the arm. "you know what it means to--to some one if you speak," he warned. "but i'm not going to see you boys murdered before my eyes!" "no more fairy tales go!" shouted a member of the sheriff's gang. "we have an unpleasant duty to perform here and we're not going to shirk it. as the sheriff says, outlaws are flocking to wyoming because they are hidden and protected by such people as you." "but i can satisfy you as to the honesty of these boys," pleaded chester, "if you'll listen to me for five minutes." "nothing doing!" shouted the sheriff. again the men advanced with the ropes and again seth lifted his revolver in warning. the situation was a critical one. during the second of silence which followed, a clatter of stones came into the gulch from the rocky summit above, and all eyes were instantly turned in that direction. as they looked the sheriff and his men dropped their weapons to the ground and threw their hands into the air. "that's right!" came a hoarse voice from above. "throw down your weapons and drop your belts at your feet. now line up there in a row, you baby snatchers! never mind that funny business, there, you man with the red whiskers. you'll drop in your tracks if you make another move! you are the cowboy sheriff of the county, i understand, but you ought to be training puppies for a dogshow. that's about your size." in a moment every member of the sheriff's posse, including seth, was unarmed. as they stood meekly in a row the boys were ordered to take their own weapons from the heap on the ground and walk away over the ridge. "can you see who they are?" asked will, as the boys moved slowly along. "i can see only the outlines of their heads and the gleaming barrels of their rifles," george answered. "say," the boy went on, "didn't the cowboys drop their weapons quick when they saw those shining muzzles?" "they knew the other fellows had the drop on them, and i don't blame them," tommy cut in. "do you really think they are the train robbers?" asked sandy, who was being assisted up the slope by will and george. "they're the train robbers, all right!" insisted tommy. "i can't see their faces any more than you can, but i remember that voice! you remember the night he was at our camp, and we were getting something to eat? well, i heard quite a lot of his conversation that night. some of it i liked and some of it i didn't, but i'm sure the man whose conversation i heard that night is the same man who ordered the cowboy officers to throw down their weapons." "but why should they do a thing like that?" demanded will. "i don't know," replied george, "unless it is because train robbers have a continual and perpetual grouch against officers of any kind." "that must be the reason," will admitted. "well, i'm glad they got us away!" said tommy, as the five boys reached the summit and looked down into the little valley, "but they sure put us in bad with the cowboys from this time on. the cowboys, apparently with good cause, were accusing us of standing in with the train robbers, and now the train robbers have proven the point by butting in for our protection." "it's too bad," will answered, "but i don't see how it can be helped. it is particularly unfortunate at this time, because with the cowboys opposing us we won't dare search the mountains for chester's father." "we'll find a way!" insisted tommy. "we'll be sure to find a way." when the boys turned down the slope which led to their camp, not very far away, daylight was growing in the sky. they could see the figures of the men who had rescued them creeping away to the south. shouts and exclamations of rage were coming over the ridge, and the boys understood very well that in a short time the cowboys would be at their camp, with stronger motive than ever for their destruction. "we've got our guns," will said as they walked along, "and we've got to fight. that's all there is to it." when the boys came to the side of the dying campfire they found two men who seemed to be entire strangers sitting calmly in one of the tents, dividing the contents of a great tin of roast beef, and also sharing a huge loaf of bread. the light was still dim in the tent, and so will turned his electric on the rather domestic scene. "what are you men doing in there?" he demanded. "eating!" was the calm reply. "i didn't know but you were getting a hair-cut," grinned tommy. "where'd you come from?" asked george, as the boys all gathered in front of the flap. "look here, kids," one of the men said easily, "we've been traveling two days and two nights, and we're hungry and sleepy. just let us fill up on this chuck and we'll tell you all about it." "we really ought to go to sleep!" the other intruder suggested. "but, as you seem anxious to know why we're consuming your provisions, i'll relieve your minds of anxiety by saying that we met john johnson half way to green river and he sent us in to tell you that he would arrange for reinforcements for you as soon as he reached green river. he said he mentioned the fact to you when he was here, but you didn't seem to like it, and so he said nothing more about it to you." "he sent you in here just to tell us that?" demanded will. "aw, tell him the truth," laughed the other. "well, then, i'll tell him the truth," replied the intruder, his mouth full of bread and meat. "we met johnson while he was on his way out, and he told us to look in on you boys as we passed and see if you were all right. he seemed to have a notion in his head that you'd be apt to get into trouble of some kind." "glad you came in," will said, extending his hand, "i don't know how mr. johnson came to think of it, but your coming here just now is something in the nature of a miracle." "glad to be of any service!" then without explaining the purpose of their night mission into the mountains, the boys explained the situation to the two strangers, dwelling particularly on the fact that the sheriff's cowboys now had good cause for believing that the lads really were associating with the train robbers. "i think the train robbers held the officers up more because they've got a grouch against all policemen than for any other reason," will said. "i don't see why they should cut in order to save our lives. the sheriff will get good and even with them for that!" "just a grouch against all the officers in the world!" laughed one of the strangers. "all brigands feel that way." "but you can see where it leaves us!" exclaimed george. "we can't have any fun in the mountains with those fellows chasing us all the time, and one of our friends is wandering around in the mountains nutty, with a broken head, and we can't even go out and find him if this hostile attitude of the cowboys continues." "you think they'll follow you down to camp, do you?" asked one of the men. "of course the outlaws wouldn't hold them very long." "yes, i think they'll follow us down to camp and they won't lose any time getting here, either," will answered. "did you ever seen anything like it?" asked tommy as, accompanied by george, he started toward the provision box. "like what?" demanded the other. "why, this lone mountain valley becoming the center of population of the united states!" exclaimed tommy. "when we came in here, there wasn't a soul in sight in the valley. and then the robbers came, and the detectives came, and the cowboys came, and johnson came, then we got next to chester, and now these two strangers come butting in. if this isn't the center of population, i'd like to know where it is." "it's a good thing we've got those old burros picketed out on the grass," george observed. "in about two days more, we'll have to set sail for green river and load up with provisions. we've been running a public eating house ever since we struck wyoming. i wonder how long these fellows are going to stay. if they remain more than one day, i'm going to charge 'em for board or send them out fishing." "when you want any fish," tommy exclaimed, "you needn't send any strange guys out to get 'em. i'll bring in all the fish you want!" george chuckled, and tommy threw an empty can at his head. "when you go out fishing," george said in a moment, "just let us know, and we'll send a guard out with you." "oh, just because i had a little trouble up on lake superior and down in florida, you think i can't catch fish!" complained tommy. "you just wait until we get this rumpus with the cowboy officers settled and i'll show you whether i can catch fish or not." "i wish we had some of that bear steak!" george suggested. "we're eating the ham and eggs all up, and we're right in the middle of a game country at that." "look here," tommy suggested, "you go right on cooking ham and warming up those shoestring potatoes, and i'll sneak over the ridge and bring back about fifty pounds of bear." besides, he went on, "i want to get those hides before the wolverines get them, or any one sneaks them off." just as tommy disappeared up the slope the cowboy officers were seen rushing toward the camp, their weapons ready for use. "i guess they think the train robbers are here," commented will. chapter xii an interrupted wig-wag the boys gathered in a little group not far from the fire and awaited, with what excitement and anxiety may well be imagined, the arrival of the officers. their automatics were in their hands. a short distance from the camp the cowboys paused as if for a consultation, although the show of weapons made by the boys may have had something to do with their quick stop. as the boys stood ready to defend themselves if attacked, they noticed that the two strangers who had recently arrived at the camp were creeping farther into the tent, at the flap of which they had been sitting. the lads saw weapons in their hands, but saw no evidence that the fellows intended using them. sandy gave will a nudge on the shoulder. "do you think those fellows are all right?" he asked. "looks funny to see them crawling out of sight as soon as danger shows!" "it does look strange," will admitted, "but look here," he added, pointing to the boy's bandaged shoulder, "you ought to be in one of the tents yourself. you're not fit to be out here if any fighting takes place." "huh, i guess this bum shoulder won't prevent me from shooting straight!" declared sandy. "say," he continued, "i've a great mind to go in where those fellows are and ask what they're hiding away for." "i just believe," george cut in, "that those fellows lied when they said johnson asked them to come here. you remember how they told two stories, don't you? one that they had been told to tell us that reinforcements would be sent in, and the other that they had been asked to stop and see us on their way into the mountains." "we're certainly in a nice box if we've got enemies in our own camp," will grumbled. "in that case, as soon as the shooting begins we'll be between two fires. by the way," he went on, "where's tommy?" "gone after bear meat for breakfast," answered george. "he's always dodging away without any one knowing what's in his mind!"? declared will, rather crossly. "i guess he's got some idea above bear steak for breakfast, right now. anyhow," the boy added, "if tommy is well armed these cowboy fly-cops will also be between two fires when the battle opens. that will help some." "perhaps there won't be any battle," suggested george. "those fellows don't seem to be in any hurry about starting in, anyway." "oh, they'll never swallow the bluff they got from the train robbers," will insisted. "as soon as the story is told outside they'll be roasted by the whole state. just think of it!" the boy went on. "they come in here to capture two train robbers and get held up the first thing. if there's a live editor in the state he'll print a faked-up picture of the six men with their hands up in the air and their guns lying at their feet." "perhaps they saw the two strangers come in," suggested sandy. "in that case they may be doing a little guessing as to whether the newcomers won't help us in case of trouble." "but these two men were here before we returned," suggested george. "well, they may have seen them sitting in the flap of the tent eating our good pork and beans and roast beef," will went on. "if they knew that the two strangers were hiding in the back corner of one of the tents," george commented, "i don't think they'd hesitate much longer. these two visitors may be all right, but they don't look it!" "why don't you go and ask them if they wouldn't like to have us dig a hole to put them in?" demanded sandy. while the boys were puzzling over the situation, seth, the deputy who had defended the boy scouts when they stood in grave danger of being lynched, separated himself from the group of officers and advanced toward the camp. there was a smile on the deputy's face as he approached but the other members of the party were scowling heavily. the boys dropped the muzzles of their automatics as seth came up to the fire. the deputy stood for a moment glancing keenly around at the tents, the burros, and the cooking utensils before speaking. "glad to see you so comfortably situated boys," he said, "and i'm glad, also," he went on pointing to the pennants which showed at the tops of the tents, "to see that you're not ashamed to show your colors." "we're proud of being boy scouts!" will declared. "and we're proud of the beaver patrol!" george cut in. "that's right, boys!" seth said "stick to boy scout laws and teachings and you can't go very far wrong." "what are those fellows going to do now?" asked will, nodding toward the cowboy officers, who had now thrown themselves down upon the long grass of the valley. "they didn't follow us here just for exercise." "if those train robbers really are friends of yours," seth replied, "they have done you, perhaps unintentionally, a great deal of harm. it is an old saying, you know," the deputy went on, "that one fool friend can work a man more mischief than a dozen open enemies." "i suppose you people think now," will said, "that we really do train with that bunch of robbers." "i don't!" declared seth. "i know you to be honest boy scouts, and no counterfeits, and i don't believe such lads mix up with train robbers." "we don't at all events," will answered. "look here," george interrupted, "the train robbers saw a chance to rub it into the officers and they did it. that's all there is to that! they would have protected the detectives who were searching the mountains, or even a band of burglars, just the same as they did us. you know very well that such fellows have a perpetual grouch against officers of the law. the only wonder is they didn't shoot when they had the cowboys unarmed." "even train robbers are averse to committing murder," replied seth. "well, what are they going to do about it?" will insisted. "they want you to come out to lander with me and stand trial." "and if we refuse?" "but you won't do that!" "you are mistaken there," replied will. "if they want us, they've got to come and get us." "that isn't good judgment," declared seth. while the two discussed the situation, the others listening intently, the two visitors came slowly out of the tent and approached the spot where seth and will were standing. seth regarded the two men quizzically for a moment and then extended both hands in greeting. "glad to see you, gilmore!" he said. "how long have you been here?" "only a short time," was the reply. "at the request of a personal friend, an officer from chicago, we dropped in for breakfast and also to see if the boys needed any assistance." "boys," seth said, turning to the astonished group of youngsters, "this is sheriff gilmore of sweetwater county, and this," pointing to the other, "is doyle, one of his deputies. they are both good fellows." "did you say you knew john johnson well?" asked will, after greetings had been exchanged. "was it the truth you said about his asking you to call and help us out if we needed assistance?" "true as gospel!" answered gilmore. "i knew john johnson when he was on a ranch over here in the sweetwater country. i'm taking a little excursion into pete's country in search of the train robbers. i met johnson going out, and he asked me to call on his friends, the boys." "so you can vouch for these lads, can you?" asked seth, a smile of satisfaction coming to his face. "i certainly can!" was the reply. "johnson told me all about them, so i know what they're here for, and all about their movements." before speaking, seth took off his hat and began waving it in the direction of the cowboy officers. sheriff pete and his deputies rose to their feet and walked toward the camp. before reaching the fire, they recognized sheriff gilmore and came forward with extended hands. the situation was soon explained. "now see here, kiddo," sheriff pete said, as he drew will to one side, "we don't know what you're in here for, but we know now that you're all right. we'll stand by you to the bottom of the deck if you'll just forget all about that little hold-up over in the other valley." "that was funny, wasn't it?" will said with a grin. "i can't see anything funny in it!" said the sheriff. "those train robbers looked pretty good to us just then," will commented. "they came just in time!" "you wouldn't have been harmed," said the sheriff, with a smile. "i was only putting in a little third degree work." "all right," will said, "you help us if it comes handy for you to do so, and we won't say a word about the hold-up." the two sheriffs and their deputies discussed the situation thoroughly, and finally decided that the two train robbers were making for the bad lands in big horn county. "if tommy'd only come back now with that bear steak," will suggested, "i could get all you boys a dinner that would put an inch of fat on your ribs! seems to me it's pretty near time for him to be back." "suppose i go and hurry him up?" asked george. "go to it!" will replied, "and i'll get out a lot of spuds and make a gallon of coffee, and we'll have a sunday school picnic right here in the long grass! you've got to feed before you go away!" "everything looks mighty friendly here just now," sandy answered, "but look up on top of the ridge, and see if you can tell what george is trying to say to us. that's boy scout wig-wag, all right!" "yes," replied will, springing to his feet excitedly. "that's the myer code, sure as you live, and he's got a big white pine bough he's using as a flag. can you see what he is saying?" "sure!" replied sandy, "he says he wants--now what do you think of that? he's stopped!" as they looked the boy dropped to the ground chapter xiii tommy goes after bear steak tommy started up the slope whistling gaily. at the summit he turned to look back at the camp. the cowboys were at that time standing some distance away and seth was advancing toward the fire. "that seth is a good indian!" declared the boy, "he'll fix things up all right, so there's no need of my going back. gee!" he went on as he looked up and down the pleasant valley, warm and sweet under the morning sun. "it's a pretty good thing to be a boy scout! here we find a man in the mountains of wyoming ready to fight for us just because we are boy scouts. i should think every boy in the world would want to join!" the lad stood for a moment watching the figures at the distant camp, and then hastened into the valley below. when he struck the rock-strewn gulch which lay to the south of the wide opening in the hills he paused and looked cautiously about. "there may be plenty more bears here!" he mused. but no bears or hostile animals of any kind were in sight, so the boy passed along to the cavern which george and will had visited on the previous night--the cavern where the escaped convict and his son had made their home. tommy glanced curiously into the opening in the rocky wall as he halted in front of it. on the previous night he had passed this cavern in company with sandy without observing it. at this time he was not certain that it was not the cave where he had met the bears, so he stepped inside after a moment's thought and advanced toward the rear wall. a semi-twilight lay over the interior, and the boy brought out his searchlight. by its rays he saw a break in the rock of the north wall and stepped closer. the place was merely an alcove eight or ten feet in size, doubtless carved out by the action of water. in the alcove the boy saw the embers of a fire. then he turned about and inspected the outer cave more carefully. he saw the rude furniture which his chums had observed the night before, and the pitifully small supply of cooking utensils. lying on the table was a generous supply of fresh meat, evidently taken from the carcass of one of the bears. tommy had heard little said concerning the cave which had been occupied by wagner and his son, but quite enough to understand that he had stumbled upon the place. what puzzled him now was the presence of the bear meat. he knew very well that neither wagner nor his son had occupied the place since the disappearance of the father. he understood, too, that if there had been provisions in the cave at the time of the visit of his chums, they would have referred to the fact. besides all this, the bear which had probably supplied the meat had been killed only a few hours before. "i guess some one's moved in!" the boy mused. he went into the alcove and examined the embers of the fire. it had been built of dry pine and spruce boughs and had evidently burned brightly an hour before. "now i wonder," the boy puzzled, "whether wagner isn't hiding some where in the cave. it doesn't seem to me that any one else would take possession of the blooming old flat." resolved to return to the cavern later, the lad hastened outside and moved toward the south. he was not exactly certain of the location of the cavern where the fight with the bears had taken place, but he had no doubt that he could find it by peering into every opening he came to. he had proceeded but a short distance when the face of katz peered out at him from one of the minor caves. cullen, the fellow's associate stood not far away with his cruel mouth stretched into a sardonic grin. "where are you going, boy?" katz asked. tommy hesitated a moment and a twinkle of humor came into his eyes as he answered the gruff question of the detective. "i'm looking after the train robbers you chased up last night." the two men scowled angrily and drew nearer to the lad. "i don't believe you told the truth about that train robber!" katz said. "i was right on the ground and i saw no one." "you beat him to it!" laughed tommy. "you went one way and he went the other! you're both good runners, i guess, for you never came within a mile of each other," he added. "none of your impudence, now!" snarled katz. "i think we ought to take this boy in out of the wet," suggested cullen. "he's too fresh, anyway." "you'd better confine your attentions to the train robbers, or the man you came in here to find," suggested tommy. "i don't believe there are any train robbers here!" declared katz. "perhaps not," answered tommy, "but about half the officers of fremont and sweetwater counties are loafing around these hills! besides," he added, "i got a look at the train robbers last night." the two detectives glanced at each other apprehensively. "was there a train robber at your camp last night?" asked katz. "sure there was!" "is your camp headquarters for outlaws?" "not that i know of," replied tommy, angrily. "don't you know that the boy who stole my property at your camp is connected with an escaped convict?" "i don't know anything about the boy," declared tommy, not telling the truth exactly. "he looks all right to me!" "do you know what i think?" cullen demanded. "i think you boys came in here to set up a base of supplies for outlaws!" "aw, you don't know what you're talking about!" exclaimed tommy. "if you're not mixed up with this escaped convict," katz demanded, "what are you doing here?" "early this morning," cullen went on, "we found the cave where wagner and his son had been living. that's it back there. the one you entered and looked over so carefully. did you expect to find wagner there?" "did you build a fire in there?" asked tommy. the detectives shook their heads. "did you take a big piece of bear meat in there?" "we certainly did not!" here was another puzzler for tommy. who had built the fire in the cavern? who had taken the bear meat there? the cowboys were not in that vicinity at the time the fire must have been built. the detectives declared that they had not built the fire, or carried in the meat. "did you find a fire burning in the cavern?" asked katz. tommy nodded. "and fresh meat there, too?" another nod from the boy. "what do you make of it, cullen?" asked katz, turning to his companion. cullen shook his head, and a thought which brought a smile to his freckled face crept into tommy's mischievous cranium. "i'll tell you what i think," he said. "we were in this gulch last night, and saw the train robbers. they were on the summit, not far from the wagner flat, as we ought to call it. if anybody has been living in that cave this morning, it's the train robbers. say," he went on, with the idea of giving the detectives a good scare, "those train robbers are the fiercest fellows i ever saw. we saw 'em hold up six armed cowboys last night!" the two detectives looked at each other apprehensively. "if they should see you standing here," tommy went on, "and were wise to the fact that you are chicago detectives, they'd pump in the lead until your heads looked like a pound of swiss cheese." "you seem to know quite a lot about those train robbers, lad!" "he knows too much," cullen declared. "we'll just take him along with us and hold him for a few hours!" "if you do, you'll get in trouble!" declared tommy. "no threats, now!" cried katz. "i'm not making any threats," declared tommy who really was rather anxious to have the detectives take him away to their camp. "i think you're a couple of cheap skates, anyway, and i don't believe you're chicago detectives. i live in chicago myself, and i never saw bums like you on the force of plain clothes men." the taunting words did exactly what tommy had expected them to do. katz seized him viciously by the arm and started away down the valley. the boy was perfectly willing to accompany the detective, for he believed that by doing so he might find out what steps they were taking for the capture of the escaped convict, but he pretended to feel great indignation as he was hurried along over the rough ground. as the three moved away george swung up the slope on the other side and came into view on the summit. the boy had cut a white pine climbing staff from which the small boughs had not been trimmed away, and tommy saw that he was using this as a wig-wag flag. it was plain to the boy that george thoroughly understood the situation below. the detectives growled out several vicious oaths as they saw the boy swinging his staff from the summit. they whispered together for a moment, and then katz, leaving tommy threatened by cullen's revolver, moved toward the summit and the signaling boy. when, in a moment, george looked down the slope to the east, he saw the detective creeping stealthily toward him. the officer was some, distance away, yet the boy knew that he was in danger from the gun in his hand. he gave one last swing and dropped his staff. "come down here!" shouted the detective. "i want to see you!" "come up here, then!" answered george. "what are you doing to my chum? you're always butting in on us boys!" "if you don't come down instantly," shouted the angry detective, "i'll fill your hide full of lead! i've got you covered!" seeing by the malicious look on the face of the detective that he was really in earnest, george dropped quickly to the ground. chapter xiv a pair of prisoners tommy saw his chum drop and, supposing that he had been injured in some way, started racing up the slope. directly he found himself hampered by cullen, who was clinging to the tail of his khaki coat. as the boy drew up george rose from the ground and moved down the slope facing the east. tommy saw that he was acting under instructions from katz, who held a revolver in his hand. in five minutes the boys, unarmed now, were walking along by the side of the detectives. a wink from george convinced tommy that his chum had at least succeeded in attracting the attention of the people at the camp below. it might be that help would come before the detectives could lead them to a hiding place in the hills. what the boys appeared to need just at that time was delay, so they asked all sorts of questions as they walked along, hoping that their captors would pause to answer them. however, the fellows plugged steadily along toward the opposite side of the ridge, and finally drew up on a shelf of rock from which the caverns to the west could be plainly seen. here the officials sat down to watch and wait. directly a group of men came dashing over the summit and hastened down into the valley. the boys were certain that they recognized will in the company. it was certain that sheriff pete was there, and the boys were positive that the two men who had been found in the camp on their return from the midnight expedition were also there. the men separated at the foot of the slope and scattered up and down the gulch. it was clear that george's wig-wag signals had been seen, and that the men were in search of the two boys. "those signals of yours must be effective," snarled katz as the members of the party across the gorge began exploring the caverns. "you're right, they are!" answered george. "that's the boy scout wig-wag! you have to learn those things when you join the boy scouts!" "what did you say?" "i explained that we had been captured by the train robbers!" replied george, telling the untruth with a great deal of satisfaction as he saw the effect produced on the detectives. "what'd you do that for?" demanded cullen. "because we want the cowboy officers to get hold of you fellows, and beat you up!" answered george. "they'll do it, too, if they lay hands on you! those fellows are our friends!" "where's that boy who stole my property?" demanded katz. "he was down in the camp when i left," replied george. "do you think he's with that crowd on the other side of the gulch now? or would he stay at the camp?" "he probably would come out in answer to george's signal," tommy cut in. the detectives whispered together for some moments. although the boys could not hear a word they were saying, they understood very well what all the whispering was about. they were discussing the possibility of capturing chester and forcing him to lead them to his father's hiding place. they did not, of course, know that the father was wandering over the mountains in a demented condition. after a time the party passed on down the valley much to the disgust of the two captive lads, and disappeared from sight. then the detectives left the angle of the ledge which had concealed them and motioned the boys down the slope. the lads obeyed wonderingly. arrived at the bottom of the gulch once more, the detectives halted for another long consultation. katz seemed to be in favor of following the party which had gone down the valley in the hope of getting hold of chester, while cullen was of the opinion that they might be able to capture the escaped convict himself by lingering around the cavern where the fire had been so mysteriously kindled. while the two discussed, not without some show of anger, the situation, the two boys kept their eyes fixed on the opposite cavern. george knew positively that it was the one which had been occupied by the escaped convict and his son, and he believed that in time the father would return to it. it seemed to him that cullen was clinging to an opinion which might cause himself and friends serious trouble. "gee!" he whispered to tommy, "i wish we could get these flatties to follow the cowboys! i'm afraid they'll catch wagner if they hang around that cave over there!" "i'm afraid they will!" replied tommy. "there's some one been there this morning, and it wasn't the cowboys or the detectives, either. it was either wagner or the train robbers." "just as sure as you're a foot high," exclaimed george, "there's some one moving about in the entrance to that cavern now! i can see something moving, but i can't see any features." "well, don't look that way too steadily," tommy cried. "if wagner is over there we don't want to put these detectives wise to the fact. he's the man they're in here after, you remember!" "well, there's some one there, all right!" exclaimed george. "while you were talking, i saw a chalk-white face appear for a second at the entrance. i'll bet he's been hiding there ever since last night." "he was with the train robbers last night," suggested tommy. "at least we think he was, for there are only two robbers and we saw three men." "he may be with the train robbers, now for all we know," george put in. "yes, they may be hiding over there," tommy admitted. "if i thought they were, i'd steer these bum detectives up against them!" "we'd better not take any chances!" advised george. "if wagner is over there, he may be alone. in that case, these cheap flatties would geezle him and make for the union pacific railroad without stopping to say good-by to the hills. and once they get to the railroad, it's all off with the young man in chicago who is soon to be tried for murder." while the boys discussed the situation, katz caught sight of the moving figure in the entrance to the cavern. the boys saw him pointing in that direction and about abandoned hope. "there's some one over there," the boys heard katz saying, "and we may as well go and see who it is. have you got a pair of handcuffs with you?" he added, turning to his companion. "of course i have!" was the reply. "then use them on these two boys!" ordered katz. "tie them together so they won't be apt to go chasing off if we get into action." cullen did as requested, and the boys, unable to make resistance at that time, resolved that both officers should pay well for the indignity in the future. when the detectives started forward, they walked as slowly as possible, one of them frequently falling down, in order to give the person in the cavern, whoever he might be, plenty of time to observe the approach of the detectives. "gee!" exclaimed tommy. "these fellows blunder along like a load of hay. if the man over there has any sense, he'll be a mile off before they get to the entrance! i hope the train robbers are there!" "well, i hope wagner isn't there," george said. there were no signs of light as the two detectives scrambled up the little slope which lay between the bottom of the gulch and the entrance to the cavern. the faint smell of burning wood reached their nostrils, but no one was in sight. they stepped inside boldly. following along behind, more as a matter of curiosity than because they felt obliged to do so, the boys saw the detectives standing in the twilight of the place looking about. then they saw them drop their arms to their sides, heard the clatter of revolvers upon the rocky floor and realized that something unexpected was taking place inside. directly the detectives came out to the entrance and sat down on the hard floor, their backs against the south wall. the boys looked them over with pleased eyes, and tommy went so far as to wrinkle his freckled nose at katz, who frowned savagely but said nothing. "look here, you fellows," katz finally blurted out. "i want you to understand that you're getting yourselves into trouble." "is that so?" came a hoarse and scornful voice from the darkness. "i'm detective katz, of the chicago force," continued the officer, "and i command you, in the name of the law, to return our weapons and let us depart in peace!" "and i guess you don't know who we are!" came the voice from inside. "we're red mike of the gulch and daring dan of the devil's dip, and we're out for blood! when we're at home in the bad lands, we feed on rattlesnakes!" "say," tommy whispered to george, "that ain't so bad, is it? those fellows know they've got the detectives buffaloed, and they're piling it on. i'll bet if we sat a little nearer, we could hear the detectives' teeth rattle!" "the robbers certainly have a sense of humor," grinned george. in a moment two muscular, bearded figures came out of the cavern and stood facing the two detectives. the boys at once recognized the men as the ones who had ridden so fiercely by their campfire on the night of their arrival. tommy was certain that one of the men was the person who had been waiting for supper at the camp when informed of the presence of the detectives. "do you belong with this bunch?" one of them asked. the boys held up their handcuffed wrists. "who's got the key?" demanded the outlaw. cullen held out a ring of keys and the robber promptly used one of them on the handcuff. when the manacles dropped from the boys' wrists, he threw the ring of keys into the gulch and tossed the handcuffs in the same direction. "i've claimed all along that you boys belonged with these train robbers," katz gritted as the handcuffs rattled down the slope. "and now we know it!" cullen cut in. the two boys leaned against the north wall of the cavern and shook their sides with laughter. the fright of the two detectives was so absolute that it was pitiful. "you certainly are a bum pair of detectives!" tommy said. chapter xv an underground channel following along behind the two sheriffs and their deputies, will and chester finally came to the cavern which by mutual consent the boys now called the cave of the three bears. "tommy was headed for this place!" exclaimed will. "it's a mystery to me where george disappeared to so suddenly. of course, we didn't see enough of his wig-wag to know what he intended to say, but we understand there's something amiss." "there are plenty of caverns here in which one may hide," chester answered. "there is one just north of this which has several good-sized rooms. father and i thought of moving to that one." they passed into the cave of the three bears and found that one hide had been partly removed, and that a huge piece of meat had been taken away. "i guess tommy's been here all right!" will suggested. chester stooped down and examined the carcass carefully. "no," he said. "tommy wanted the three skins for rugs. he never cut the hide like that to get at the meat." "no, he wouldn't do that," will admitted. "father may have been here," suggested chester. "we should have stopped at the cave where you two formerly lived," said will. "for all we know, your father may be hiding there now." "i know it," replied chester, "but we came on so fast and in such a state of excitement that we didn't think of doing so." "well, we mustn't let the others get too far ahead of us," will suggested. "they must be quite a ways off now!" "don't you think we can do a better job with them out of the way?" asked chester. "they go roaring along like a herd of elephants." "i presume we can," replied will. "anyway we can make an investigation of our own and then go back to camp. sandy is alone there with his wounded shoulder, and almost anything is likely to happen." "we'll go into the cave i spoke about a moment ago," chester said, "and examine it thoroughly with the searchlights." "what's the idea of that?" asked will. "well, tommy and george are in some one of these caves. they may be hiding from us or they may have been captured by the train robbers. if they are hidden away, they're quite likely to be in the large cavern i spoke of. it won't do any harm to look through it." "why, that must be the cave where we saw the three men last night!" will exclaimed. "i have an idea that the three men we saw were the two train robbers and your father." "that was my idea at the time," the boy replied, "but now i can't quite make up my mind that father would tie up with such a bunch." "bless your innocent soul," grinned will. "your father couldn't help associating with them if they insisted upon it! i can see no reason why they should want to molest him, but one can never account for the mental processes of train robbers." "i believe this is the same place!" chester cried as they stepped inside. "you know father often talked about moving to this cave, and i've got an idea that he knows more about the locality than i do." "in what way?" asked will. "well, i think he found some secret passage here. i believe he knows how to enter and leave this cavern without being seen. this whole ridge, you know, is honeycombed with caverns and tunnels. i have been told," the boy continued, "that the gorge and the valley to the east formed the basin for a great lake, hundreds of years ago, and that the water seeped through the limestone rock until there wasn't much left of it in some places. there are certainly plenty of caves here!" "i should say so!" replied will turning on his searchlight. "look here," chester went on, "that would be a reason for the train robbers hanging to father, if they found him, wouldn't it?" "i don't understand," replied will. "why, if father knows a lot of passages and hiding places and empty river channels, in this section, he's just the man the train robbers would want to tie to." "i understand now," will replied. "and you remember, too," he continued, "how mysteriously the three men disappeared last night? why, they got out of sight as quickly as if they had been painted on a slate and rubbed out." "that's a fact!" replied chester. "there's one thing about it," will argued, "the train robbers won't dare to go on into the bad lands, for they have no supplies, and their horses must be about used up. by remaining here, they may be able to steal supplies and, possibly get out to lander and buy some." "i guess we've got it doped out all right," chester answered. "all we've got to do now is to go on and see whether we have or not." the boys pressed on to the back of the first cavern and turned to the right into one which ran parallel with it. their lights showed that a fire had been built in the tunnel connecting the two. there were also empty tin cans and cardboard food packages scattered about. "this looks like population," grinned will. "isn't this the spot from which the men disappeared?" asked chester. "unless i am much mistaken," will returned, "the three men were in front of a fire in this tunnel. say, but they did get out of sight quick, didn't they? it was like the scene from the black crook." "then the passage they crawled into can't be far away," chester volunteered, "at any rate, right here's where we want to make our search!" "there's no knowing where this wrinkle leads to," will said as the lights pierced the narrow channel. "if we get down there, we may never be able to get back." "father must have known of this place," chester said, "and that's why he talked about moving our camp here." "well, if he used the passage, we certainly can!" replied will. "are we going down now?" asked chester. "i'm game for it." "well, then, wait a minute!" chester ran to the entrance of the cavern and looked up and down the gorge and valley. when he returned there was a worried look on his face. he pointed to the dry channel and said: "we may as well be getting down there. there's some one coming." "who is it?" asked will. "i couldn't distinguish faces," was the reply. "wasn't george and tommy, was it?" "no, two men. they're coming along fast, so we may as well get under cover. we don't know where we're going, but we're on our way," he smiled as he dropped down on his hands and knees and scrambled backward into what had once been the channel of a mountain stream. will followed in a moment and, after trying his best to draw the boulder into place, scrambled on after his chum. "did you get the rock fixed?" asked chester as they came together on a little level place probably thirty feet down. "couldn't budge it!" was the reply. "well, then, we'll keep on going." "je-rusalem!" exclaimed will. "i believe this thing runs clear through the ridge. and that would make it something like a mile long!" "of course it does," chester answered. "this ditch was cut by water, and the water had to find an outlet somewhere." "if your father knows all about this underground network of caverns and channels," will said in a moment, "we'll have a happy old time finding him! he can dodge us here for a month." "and those officers will have a fine old job getting the train robbers, too," chester chuckled, "if they're acquainted with this underground system of highways. it strikes me," he went on, "that these train robbers have been here before." "that may be!" answered will. "in fact, it, occurs to me that your father searched out all these subterranean roads and rooms and showed them to the train robbers." the boys proceeded downward for some distance and then stopped in a tolerably large chamber to rest and investigate. "there's no use of our going on until we know whether the fellows you saw are coming in here," will reasoned. "i'm going up to the top again," said chester, "and see what's going on there! the fellows i saw may be coming in." will waited for a long half hour for the boy's return, and when at last chester slid down to him his face showed that he was frightened. "they've got the combination to this channel all right!" he said. chapter xvi cullen loses his star "so these are the detectives, are they?" asked one of the train robbers, as the two men crouched against the wall of the cavern. "that's what they say!" answered tommy. "what were they doing to you?" "they had us pinched." "what for?" "they said we belonged to your gang." the bandit laughed hoarsely. "to our gang?" he said. "the perfectly correct gentleman of the road never has a 'gang'. he believes thoroughly in the old theory that 'he travels fastest who travels alone'." "so they pinched you for being associates of ours, did they?" asked the other outlaw. "that's what they said," replied tommy. "and that was the truth, too!" roared katz. "you seem to know all about these boys, and they know all about you. you've been seen at their camp, and one of the boys at the camp stole my property, too!" he went on with another roar of indignation. "chester stole his official star!" chuckled tommy. "that's a pious notion, too?" laughed the outlaw. "have you got a star, too?" he asked, stepping up to cullen. "if you have, hand it over. i don't think you're fit to wear a police badge!" cullen handed his star over with a scowl, and the outlaw passed it to tommy. the boy put it in his pocket with a grin at the detective. "did you fellows have the nerve to come in here after us?" asked the robber. "we came in after an escaped convict," was the reply. "did you get him?" "not yet, but we will get him." "well, i'd advise you both to go back home before the escaped convict comes up and steals your necktie. you're not large enough to be out alone after dark." "we're going to take that escaped convict back with us," katz boasted. "we'll get him if we stay here a year." "we'll give you two days to get him," grinned one of the outlaws. "we'll turn you loose for two days. if you catch him in that time and get out, very well. if you don't catch him in that time, you'll get out anyhow. you stiffs are attracting altogether too much attention to this part of the country. it's getting so an honest train robber can't get a good night's sleep." the outlaw pointed to the gulch below and motioned for the fellows to move along. they started but looked back pleadingly. "can't we have our guns?" katz asked. "and our badges?" pleaded cullen. "no," replied the outlaw. "you might injure yourself with the guns, and the badges are no good anywhere outside of chicago. if you don't get out right now, we'll handcuff you to a tree and let the bears feed on you. you don't look good to us anyway." "look-a-here," tommy said to the two outlaws as the detectives disappeared down the gulch. "do you know that every person in the state of wyoming will be believing that we really belong to your crowd if this thing keeps up? we're much obliged to you for bluffing the cowboys last night, and getting us out of the handcuffs just now, but you're getting us into trouble just the same." "any time we get a chance to bluff an officer out of a captive, we're going to do it!" laughed one of the outlaws. "we're not asking you whether you like it or not. we're pleasing ourselves in what we're doing." "and here's another thing," the other outlaw said, with something like a scowl. "we've got the idea that you wouldn't be doing as much for us as we've been doing for you. the men who came in here to hunt us down make their headquarters at your camp. if you go back to your friends now, you'll tell them where you saw us, and describe everything that's taken place. therefore, we're not going to let you go back to your camp right away. you're going to be our guests for a time." "what's the good of that?" demanded tommy. "that's our business," replied the outlaw. "we'll never mention you to our crowd," george added. "anyway," the outlaw insisted, "it's safer for us to keep track of you two kids. i'd rather have a dozen chicago sleuths after me than three or four husky little boy scouts." "say," tommy asked with a grin, "do you remember those plays where a shrinking maiden would be in the center of the stage one minute and be grabbed by the villain the next, and be grabbed back by the hero in the next, and be grabbed back by the villain in the next, and be grabbed back by the hero for the final curtain?" "i remember something like that," said the outlaw with a laugh. "that's us!" grinned tommy. "that's george and me! we're here to be captured by cowboys, and bum detectives, and bearded train robbers, and i don't know what form our imprisonment will take next." "when we get back to chicago," george went on, whimsically, "we're going to write up a story of our capture by two bold, bad men who gave their names as red mike of the gulch and daring dan of the devil's dip or something like that." "say," tommy cut in, "when you called those names out of the darkness you certainly did have those detectives buffaloed!" "you're a pair of nervy kids, anyway," laughed the outlaw. "oh, this is all right," laughed tommy. "this will be one more experience. we've been chased by smugglers over the pictured rocks of lake superior, and we've been chased by alligators in the everglades of florida, and now we've been geezled by the bold, bad men who held up the union pacific pay car." "how do you know we did?" demanded one of the outlaws. "that's the dope that's been coming to us right along." "well, come on," the other outlaw said rather impatiently. "we've got to get out of sight! we can't expect to remain in the open in broad daylight without being seen by some one." "move along, boys," ordered the other. "where?" asked tommy. "straight ahead." "but where are you going to take us?" "oh, you'll know all about that soon enough," was the reply. "we've got a place over here where we can keep our friends in seclusion." "it seems the place keeps you in seclusion," grinned george. "you've been in here about as long as we have, and we've been captured numerous times and you've never been taken at all. but you'll get it up your neck one of these days," he added. "when we're captured," one of the men said grimly, "it won't be by a lot of tin-horn detectives from chicago." they all walked along for some distance, and then tommy turned back and faced the two outlaws. "if we've got far to go," he said, "i wish you'd stop in at some lunch counter and order something to eat. i haven't had anything this morning only wind sandwiches. i came out to get a piece of that bear meat for breakfast, and i'm here yet." "and i came out to hurry you up," george cut in, "and i'm here yet!" "all right," laughed one of the outlaws, accepting the humor of the request. "if we run across a free lunch sign anywhere, well take the two of you in. we're hungry ourselves." "have you got anything to eat in this secluded retreat of yours?" asked tommy. "if you have, we'll hurry up." "not a thing!" was the reply. "then we'll walk slow!" declared george. "look here!" tommy advised. "why don't you go back and get some of that bear steak. it's only a little way back to the cave of the three bears, and there's enough meat there to last the four of us a week if we can only keep it from spoiling." "that's a bright idea," said one of the outlaws, stopping suddenly. "suppose we do go back and load up with fresh steak." "i'm for it!" answered tommy, rubbing his stomach. they all walked back to the cave of the three bears, and when they left each carried quite a load of fresh meat. "have you got a place to cook it?" asked tommy. "have you got any coffee?" asked george. "i think we'll have to let you boys go pretty soon," one of the outlaws grinned. "if we don't you'll be apt to eat us out of house and home." "we're some on the eat!" tommy announced. after a time the four came, without further incident, to the chain of caverns which will and chester had entered some time before. they paused for a moment in the connecting tunnel, where the fire had been built on the previous night, and inspected the boulder, which lay a short distance from the opening to the dry channel. "he's been here and gone on in," one of the outlaws said. "perhaps some one else has been here," the other suggested. "the man who showed us where to enter this labyrinth is the only man in the mountains who knows anything about it!" declared the other. "i'm not certain that we didn't leave the stone out of place when we left this morning. but, if we didn't, our friend is certainly down stairs at this minute! i'll drop down and see, anyway!" "push the boys in first," advised the other. "what do you think of this for an elevator?" demanded tommy as he backed into the opening. "these fellows seem to be foolish--like a fox!" george followed tommy into the tunnel as the latter dropped down, and then the figure of one of the outlaws blocked the opening. for only a minute, however, for the boys heard a succession of pistol shots, and then the sound of voices rang into the cavern they had just left. the next instant the outlaws crowded into the tunnel, but instead of dropping down, waited near the entrance, weapons in hand. chapter xvii a meeting under ground "some one's got the combination to this channel, all right!" chester repeated as he joined will in the larger cavern. "did you see them?" asked will. "can't see anything," was the reply, "it's too dark!" "then how do you know there's some one coming?" "we saw them coming toward the cave, didn't we?" asked chester. "look here," will exclaimed. "did you see any one entering the mouth of this tunnel?" "when the mouth of the tunnel is clear," chester replied, "there's a faint mist of light visible. while i lay up there watching i heard whispering voices and the entrance was blocked." "perhaps they've rolled the boulder in front of it," suggested will. "you don't like the idea of being caught like a rat in a trap any more than i do," chester said, "but i really believe that if we ever get out of here alive, we'll have to head toward the west and make our exit on that side of the range." "i'd like to know how many people know about this hiding place!" will grumbled. "if people walk out of the valley and drop down here, there may, for all we know, be others in hiding further down." "that's a fact," chester admitted. "i wish we knew who the people are who are entering the tunnel," will said. "it may be the robbers, or the detectives, or the sheriffs. it may even be your father, for all we know." "well, shall we move on down to see if we can find an outlet?" asked chester. "that seems to me to be the best thing to do." "it strikes me that that is the only thing we can do." the boys were moving on down the almost level floor of the chamber in absolute darkness, for they did not consider it safe to show their electrics when they heard a chuckle in the darkness. they drew up instantly and listened. "that's tommy!" declared will. "it can't be," replied chester. "don't you suppose i know that chuckle?" "well, the boys weren't with the men i saw near the mouth of the cavern," declared chester. the boys listened again for some moments, and then caught sight of a finger of light far up the slope of the tunnel. "that's a searchlight!" declared chester. "it surely is," agreed will. while the boys stood in the darkness, waiting and listening, they heard a voice which they had no difficulty in recognizing as that of tommy. "this is some basement stairway," the boy said. the next moment george's voice was heard. "we must be about nine stories under ground by this time," he said. there was silence for a moment and then tommy was heard to ask: "what's become of our chaperons?" "there's something doing out in the lobby," the boys heard george say, "and i guess they went back to defend their home and fireside." "i hope they'll get a couple of bullets in their domes!" declared chester. "they've helped us out several times, but they've never done it because they wanted to do us a favor!" "keep still a minute," will suggested. "let's hear what those boys are saying. i'd like to know who they're talking about." "i haven't got much use for the detectives," they heard george saying, "but i hope they'll get these train robbers and get them good and plenty!" "so it's the train robbers!" exclaimed will. "i don't believe the detectives will ever get within a mile of the robbers," the boys heard tommy say. "if anybody catches the outlaws, it'll be the sheriff of fremont county." "the man at the head of the cowboys?" they heard george ask. "that's the fellow!" tommy replied. "he hasn't got 'em yet," george declared. "oh, he's had hard luck, all right enough," will and chester heard tommy say, "but he's a nervy sort of a chap, and he'll take them out with him when he goes." "that's the fellow that wanted to lynch us!" george grumbled. "that was a bluff!" tommy said. "that's the kind of third degree business they go into out in the mountains. i guess that was all a by-play, anyhow. you don't catch no western sheriff lynching his own prisoners. and this sheriff of fremont county will just get even with those train robbers for that hold-up!" the boy added. the boys listened intently for a short time, not daring to show their light yet. from the conversation they had heard they understood that their chums had been placed in the tunnel for safe keeping, and they feared that their captors might appear at any moment. after a time two shots came from the cavern end of the dry channel, and the close air of the place became almost stifling with the smell of powder smoke. then the two watchers heard george and tommy scrambling down to the place where they stood. will flashed his light but instantly closed it. "did you see that?" they heard tommy ask. "sure i did!" "what do you think it is?" "i give it up!" replied george. no one spoke for an instant and then the call of the beaver came out of the darkness. "slap, slap, slap!" "do you mind that, now?" asked will. "i don't see how i could fail to recognize that!" chester said. "of course not," will agreed. "that's the call of the beaver." will answered the challenge, and presently tommy and george came tumbling down the tunnel into the larger opening and landed almost at the feet of their chums. in their joy at the meeting, the boys almost hugged each other, which they would not have done in daylight! "so they got you, too, did they?" asked tommy. "i should say not," answered will. "but you're here, ain't you?" "yes, but we came here of our own free will," chester cut in. "how'd you ever find it?" asked george. "just blundered into it," was the answer. "we were looking for father, and thought we might find him in the cavern where the three men were seen around the campfire." "so that passage out there is really the place where the mysterious disappearance took place? where the three men went up in the air?" "where the three men came down into this dry channel!" corrected george. "who were the three men?" asked will. "if they leave it to me," george replied, "two of them were train robbers and the third was chester's father." "that's about the way we had it sized up," will agreed. "by the way, tommy," asked chester with a slight chuckle, "where's the bear meat you left the camp to get for breakfast?" "i've got it out here in the cavern!" replied tommy. "is that right, george?" asked chester. "we sure have a lot of it out in the vestibule!" agreed george. "let's see," will said, nudging george in the ribs, "you went after tommy to bring him back, didn't you?" "sure i did," answered george. "and i brought him back, didn't i?" "you didn't bring him back to camp," will answered. "and you're the fellow who wig-wagged to us to come and escort the two of you home," continued will, addressing george with a laugh. "sure i wig-wagged," replied the boy. "then why didn't you stay there until we came up and tell us what you wanted. you're a fine boy to wig-wag!" "circumstances over which i had no control intervened," replied george. "i got pinched." then the story of the adventures of tommy and george were told and will told of the doings of those who had left the camp in answer to the call for help. "then the sheriffs and their men are not far away?" asked will. "why, they must be in the cavern," answered tommy. "when the train robbers chucked us down into this dry sewer the sheriffs were entering the audience chamber on the outside." "and where did the detectives go?" asked will. "i don't think they've got done going yet!" replied tommy. "the train robbers took away their badges, and gave 'em two days in which to get out of town. gee!" the boy continued. "that sounds like harrison street station, don't it? give 'em two days to get out of town. they make me sick!" "so they're all centering around this little old ex-aqueduct," george said. "in about five minutes the two sheriffs'll be crawling into this old drain and taking the train robbers by the scruff of the neck." "i'd rather the sheriffs would lug the detectives out of the country," chester observed. "they're the people who are looking for father." "you want to keep mighty quiet about any one looking for your father," will advised. "we are sure to bunt into these two sheriffs before long and if they know that your father is now regarded as a fugitive from justice, they'll get him and ship him back to chicago, all right!" "the sheriffs got held up by the train robbers," tommy went on, "but they can't be blamed for that, and they tried to put us through the third degree when they thought we were in cahoots with the robbers, but they're game all the same. if you ever see those fellows in action you'll know there's something going on." "and we're going to see them in action right now!" cried george. a succession of shots came from the entrance to the old channel, and the boys heard the defenders scrambling down toward the chamber where they stood. chapter xviii the finding of wagner "good night!" cried tommy. the heavy footsteps came on faster than before. the ping of bullets was in the air, and the old channel was filling with powder smoke. now and then the flash of a gun lit the passage. "me for the tall timber," tommy went on, springing up the tunnel. "here! where are you going?" shouted will. "there's a hiding place up here!" answered tommy. "we saw it when we came down! me for the hiding place." "that's a fact!" will exclaimed turning to chester. "you remember the old channel running in from the southeast?" "we'll have to get somewhere right soon!" chester answered. "perhaps that is as good a place as any." bullets singing down the narrow passage indicated that the sheriffs and their men had already entered the subterranean channel from above. the train robbers were defending the passage heroically, but the officers were coming bravely on. directly the boys came to the lead which cut the south wall of the main channel into the shape of a "w." they passed on up this dry channel just as the train robbers, retreating step by step, came to the entrance. "shoot to kill!" the boys heard one of the outlaws saying. "do you know the way to the other end?" asked the second outlaw. "i've been told how to find it," was the answer, "but i never made my way through it. those sheriffs are game to come crowding into a hole like this in front of two armed and desperate men." "you get up against the real thing when you strike a wyoming sheriff," the other outlaw declared. "throw up your hands!" a heavy voice came from above. "come and take us!" was the only answer. another storm of bullets was followed by a groan of pain. "they got me!" the boys heard one of the men say. "they got me, too!" said the other. "it's a wonder we haven't been cut into ribbons before this!" "all we can do now is to lay down and shoot as long as we've got ammunition," the first speaker advised. "you may as well surrender, boys!" they heard sheriff pete's heavy voice saying. "i'm coming down there after you!" the only answer from the outlaws was a volley of bullets, punctuated with oaths. tommy turned to will with a low chuckle. "this seems to be a nice quiet boy scout excursion, doesn't it?" he asked. "we come up on the mountains to have a pleasant vacation, and we butt into a scene that wouldn't be admitted to the stage of any theatre because the critics would say that it wasn't true to life!" "we certainly do strike life in the raw!" replied will. "are you going to surrender?" shouted the sheriff from above. "i'll bet they don't," whispered george. "you're on!" tommy shouted. "i'll bet they do." the boys listened anxiously for the reply. "i'm coming down there now!" they heard sheriff pete say. "there isn't one man in a million who would dare walk into a trap like this," will mused. "i wonder if this sheriff we've been finding fault with will have the nerve to do it." "you see if he hasn't got the nerve to do it," tommy answered. the outlaws fired once more, and then the boys heard their weapons clattering down the tunnel. "that's the stuff, boys!" the sheriff said. they heard him sliding and scrambling down the channel, and turned on their flashlights. the sheriff paused with an exclamation of surprise, but came steadily on in a moment, his deputies not far in the rear. "throw up your hands there, you with the light!" cried the officer. "i ain't going to throw up my hands," tommy called out with a chuckle, "but if it'll give you any satisfaction, i'll throw up my job as a man-hunter. i have no further use for it!" "that must be the boy scouts," the voice of the sweetwater sheriff said. "i wonder how they got here." as the officers came on under the rays of the searchlights, the boys having now stepped into the main tunnel, the outlaws stumbled to their feet and stood leaning against the wall. they were wounded in several places and blood was flowing quite freely, but their jaws were set in lines of determination. the sheriffs glanced keenly about and smiled as their eyes took in the boys grouped together in the tunnel. "what about it?" asked sheriff pete. "that's a long story," will answered. one of the outlaws now stepped forward, although he still held himself upright by one hand on the wall. "you're a nervy chap, sheriff," he said. "turn and turn about is fair play!" replied the officer. "it isn't so very long ago that you held me up." "any man can hold up another when he has a loaded gun in his face," said the outlaw. "it strikes me," the sheriff said, "that you'd better be removed from this hole as quickly as possible. your wounds probably need attention." "we're not sobbing about the wounds," was the reply. "the only kick we've got coming is that our ammunition gave out." "you would have been taken in time!" was the reply. "i guess that's right, with a man like you on our track, i've been in a good many tight spots but i never saw a man walk into a storm of bullets and appear to like it as you have done today." "never mind that now," the sheriff cut in. "we're going to get you out so you can do a little work for the state before you die." "say," tommy exclaimed as the officers and prisoners started to climb the steep tunnel, "when you get to the top have one of the men start a big fire. i'm so hungry that i could eat my way out of this rock like it was cheese." "what you going to cook?" asked will. "bear steak," replied tommy. "that's a joke!" declared chester. "joke is it?" exclaimed tommy. "you wait till we get out there and see whether it is or not. i went out after bear steak for breakfast, didn't i? well, i got it, didn't i?" "breakfast!" repeated george, rubbing his stomach. "it must be afternoon, and i'm hungry enough to bite a corner off the masonic temple." "one o'clock!" said will, looking at his watch. "are you boys really going to cook breakfast in the cavern?" asked the sheriff. "why not go to the camp?" "because we can't walk to camp without first acquiring sustenance!" chuckled tommy. "i'm empty from the top of my head to the end of my big toe!" "if you'll ask your men to gather a lot of dry wood," george suggested, "we'll have a lot of bear steak ready to eat in about ten minutes." "but we haven't got any salt!" objected the sheriff. "don't you think we haven't got any salt," tommy replied. "you never saw a boy scout go out into the woods without plenty of salt and matches. and don't you think we don't know how to build a fire with one match and broil a steak over coals in ten minutes." "all right!" laughed the sheriff. "you boys seem to be able to take care of yourselves." "you didn't seem to think so a few hours ago," will answered. "there's one thing about you boys i really like," the sheriff returned with a hearty laugh. "the third degree makes about as much impression on you as it would on the sphinx or on the goddess of liberty in new york harbor." "that was the third degree, was it, then?" asked will. "do you think i'd string up a lot of babies?" demanded the sheriff. "run along, now!" tommy exclaimed. "run along, mr. officer, and tell your men to bring up a lot of dry wood." the officers made their way out, followed by george and tommy, but will and chester still remained under ground. "did you hear anything in this tunnel?" asked chester. "i thought i did hear a moan, but the sheriff was talking in that voice of his at the time and i wasn't certain." "well," chester said, "i believe father's in here somewhere." "why do you think that?" "i've told you about how he wanted to move to this cavern, haven't i? and how he spent considerable time here?" "you certainly have." "and about my suspicions that he informed the outlaws of the underground passages?" "yes, you told me all that." "then you heard what the robbers said about some one having moved the stone, or gone in during their absence?" "i had entirely forgotten that!" declared will. "well, then, don't you see," chester continued, "that they must have been speaking of father? that's why i think he's in here." "perhaps we'd better follow this channel and see if we can find him," will suggested. "it does seem as if he might be here." the bed of the old channel was very steep, and the boys scrambled up it with difficulty. after proceeding a few paces they heard a low groan and their flashlight showed the figure of a man lying on a narrow ledge of rock on the south side. chester darted forward instantly, almost falling on his face in his eagerness to reach his father and bent over the figure. "it's father!" he shouted back to will. "alive?" "i'm afraid not." will lost no time in gaining the boy's side. the ex-convict lay with his face turned upward, his arms folded across his breast. at first there were no indication of life. chapter xix sheriff pete's wink "he can't be dead!" cried chester, trying to lift the still figure in his arms. "the wound he received was not a serious one." "i'll tell you what i think," will replied. "i think he's weak from lack of food and sleep i don't believe these train robbers have been very considerate of him." "but i don't see why they should misuse him!" "they probably didn't have enough to eat themselves," will returned. "don't you remember how one of them came to camp and set tommy to cooking for him, and how we frightened him away by saying that the detectives were just beyond the circle of light?" "that was the night i was loitering around the camp waiting to get to one of you boys in order to ask you to help me find father," chester replied. "don't you remember you chased me up that night, and i ran away in the darkness, and one of the boys came upon the train robber and the other came upon one of the detectives." "that was tommy and sandy," will answered. "george and i were asleep in our tent when all that took place." "i guess he's about starved all right!" chester said lifting his father into a sitting position. "we'd better get some of the men down here and have him carried into the cavern." "but look here," will warned, "there mustn't a word be said about the detectives coming in here after him!" "why not?" asked chester. "because, as i have told you before, if the sheriff understands that your father was a fugitive from justice, he'll send him to chicago under arrest. it will be his duty to do so, in fact." "and what do you boys propose to do with him?" "we're going to take him back to chicago and keep him out of the reach of the police. he knows something about a case we're interested in which he will never tell if sent back to prison." "if he's sent back to prison," chester replied, "you may be sure that he won't be willing to help anybody." "he is innocent of the crime of which he was convicted, isn't he?" asked will. "in other words, he was jobbed!" "that's the truth!" cried chester. "well, what we've got to do is to prove that!" will went on. "can you do it?" asked the son, anxiously. "we think we can," was the reply. "if you can, father will do anything he can for you, you may be sure of that," chester answered warmly. "but the whole success of our scheme depends on our keeping your father out of the clutches of the officers until we land him in mr. horton's office in chicago. for the first time in our lives," will continued, "we are opposing the officers of the law. as a rule that isn't a good thing for boy scouts to do, but we think we are fully justified in the course we are taking in this case." "what is it you want father to testify to?" asked chester. "i don't think we'd better stop now to discuss that," will answered. "i'm sure it can't be anything dishonorable." "it's nothing dishonorable," will assured the boy. "we believe that your father's testimony will save the life of a young man accused of murder. that's all i can tell you now." "you refer to the fremont case?" asked chester. "exactly!" answered will. "to the fremont suicide case." "the police call it the fremont murder case!" "so you have been reading about that, too, have you?" asked will. "i read about it in the newspapers on the day following what took place at the bank," chester answered, "and i couldn't help a feeling of contempt for the police when i understood how wrong they were." "so you know about that, too?" "i know all about it!" replied chester. will could have hugged the boy. he had long been wondering whether the testimony of mr. wagner would be accepted in court after the wound which had rendered him mentally incompetent had been discussed by physicians. he knew that in many cases men so injured never fully recovered. it seemed almost like a miracle that the escaped convict's son should know something of the matter, too. the boy knew that even if mr. wagner fully recovered from his injury the police would object to his testimony on the ground of previous insanity. if the boy could corroborate the statements made by his father, that would prove sufficient. will was about to ask the lad further questions when the escaped convict opened his eyes and looked about. his gaze sought the searchlight first, and then rested on the face of his son. chester drew nearer and bent over him. "did i have a fall?" the man asked weakly. he put his thin hand to his head as he spoke and drew it away covered with blood. "why this seems to be a fresh wound," chester exclaimed, anxiously. "yes," replied the father, "i remember of hearing the sound of guns, and sensing the odor of powder smoke, and started to run down the passage and fell. i remember a shooting pain in my head and that's about all until i heard your voices and saw the light." "do you know where you are?" asked will. the escaped convict looked inquiringly at his son. "who is this boy?" he asked. "a friend who has come to establish your innocence," was the reply. "that is impossible," replied wagner. "every police official in chicago is convinced of my guilt. they jobbed me to prison in the first instance and they are bound to keep me there!" "who were the detectives?" asked will. "katz and cullen!" was the answer. "i see," will said musingly. "but we mustn't permit father to remain here," chester cut in. "all these questions can be answered at another time." "that's right," will agreed. "and i'll go to the cavern and ask some of the men to carry your father out." the boy was back in five minutes with sheriff pete and deputy seth. the sheriff looked down pityingly on the wounded man for a moment and then took him in his arms as if he had been a child and carried him to the cavern, where the boys and the deputies were assembled around a roaring fire over which tommy and george were broiling bear steaks. "say, that listens good to me," george exclaimed, as the wounded man was laid down near the rear. "it appears that we're closing this case up in jig time." "i guess we've got it about closed up," will answered. "there's only one thing we've got to do now," george added, "and that is to get rid of those two bum detectives." "last call for dinner in the dining car!" cried tommy. they all flocked to the fire, and tommy and george presented each with a bear steak with the explanation that more would be forthcoming. the two train robbers looked on longingly. "you boys suggested the bringing in of this meat," tommy said, after a time, "and so i'm going to cook each of you a two pound steak." "i guess we can take care of them all right," one of the outlaws replied. "we've been hungry for about a week." "say, kid," the other outlaw cut in, "i'd like to be just your age, and be a boy scout, with all the medals you've got, and money enough to travel about the world looking for trouble and meeting it like a man!" "you had a chance once," tommy answered rather pityingly. "never," was the reply. "i was reared in the slums of new york, and became a criminal before i was six years old. there were no boy scout organizations in those days, and so i never had any one ready and willing to point out the road that would lead to a successful life." "well, if there were no boy scouts to help you along then," tommy replied, "there are plenty now to show the right way." "and they are doing it, too, so far as i can see," sheriff pete cut in. "they seem to be doing a lot of good in the world." "we try to," tommy said, and turned back to cook the steaks promised to the outlaws. "and most of the time we succeed," he added. "what was it one of you boys said about these two detectives?" asked sheriff pete, as he stood talking with will, busy at the same time with a slice of bear meat. "why," will answered, "i guess the remark was that the next thing for us to do would be to get rid of those detectives. they think they own the whole state of wyoming." "chicago men are they?" asked the sheriff. "yes," was the answer. "do they claim to be here on business?" "why," replied will in a hesitating tone, "they claim to be here after a fugitive from justice, but i guess they're on a hunting trip." "if they're here on official business," the sheriff said, "i should think they'd report to me." "it may be," will suggested, "that they are in some way associated with these train robbers." the sheriff looked at the boy with wide open eyes for a moment, and then drew one eyelid down in a long, significant wink. "you really think they stand in with these outlaws?" he asked. "why," replied will, with an equally significant wink, "i think they ought to be taken out to lander or green river and made to give an account of themselves." "come to think about it," the sheriff said, with a smile, "i've noticed several suspicious circumstances lately, and i think it really might be a good thing to take them to the county seat and make them give an account on themselves." chapter xx detectives in trouble while the sheriff and the boy were talking, katz and cullen came tramping angrily into the cavern. they stood regarding the sheriff and his deputies with scornful glances for a moment and then, ignoring them entirely, strolled up to where will was standing. "you are under arrest," katz said. "what for?" asked will, as the others gathered around him. "for participating in the escape of a fugitive from justice." "where is the fugitive from justice?" asked will. "i can't place my hands on him at this moment," was the arrogant reply, "but i'm going to know where he is before i permit these men to depart. i've stood about all the impudence i care to." "what's that making all that noise?" called tommy, from the fire. the two detectives turned toward the boy. "you are under arrest, too!" cullen shouted. "why don't you take some one of your own size?" asked tommy. "why don't you go on and arrest some of these men?" "i'll do that if it's necessary!" katz exclaimed. "and look here," he went on. "i command you all to assist me in the capture of a fugitive from justice named warren w. wagner, as escaped convict who is wanted in chicago for the crime of murder!" "do you think this wagner person is here?" asked seth. "i haven't a doubt of it," was the angry reply. "then, like a good little boy, you chase out and find him." "i'll find him quick enough," retorted katz, advancing toward the spot where wagner lay. "i'll find him too quick to please most of you fellows! perhaps you can tell me who this man is." the boy scouts gathered about the detective and chester even sprang forward as if to defend his father from the officer's touch. it was sheriff pete, however, who prevented the actual arrest of the escaped convict at that time. as the two detectives moved forward, attempting to brush the boys rudely aside, the sheriff seized katz by the shoulder and swung him over to sheriff gilmore. then he grabbed cullen by the scruff of the neck and sent him spinning into the arms of seth. "what do you fellows mean by coming here and taking possession of our camp?" he thundered. "i'll teach you to get fresh around here! put the handcuffs on the fellows, boys!" one of the wounded outlaws raised himself from the floor and chuckled viciously as the two men were adorned with the manacles. "say," katz exclaimed, trying to move toward the outlaws, "how did you get here? i've a great mind to put you both under arrest for your treatment of me a few hours ago." "you're under arrest yourself!" laughed the outlaw pointing to the handcuffs. "you're a pretty skate to talk about arresting me." "i protest against this, sir," exclaimed katz, turning to sheriff pete. "i am joseph j. katz, detective of chicago, and this is edward e. cullen, my associate. we are here under protection of the laws of your state, in quest of a fugitive from justice and i protest against this outrage." "where are your extradition papers?" demanded the sheriff. "we don't usually get extradition papers until we get the man," scoffed katz. "you ought to know that, if you're an officer." "i mean your authority from the governor of illinois," said sheriff pete angrily. "you can wire to the chief of police at chicago, and see if what we say is not true," katz answered. "but your papers," insisted the sheriff. "they were to be forwarded to us," replied katz. "i don't believe they're detectives at all!" tommy cut in. "i don't think they have any authority to make arrests," will said, with a sly wink at the sheriff. "if they have, where are their badges?" "they were stolen!" shouted katz. "these boy scouts took mine, and those train robbers, who seem to be under arrest now, took cullen's." "you want to look out when you come down into wyoming," said the sheriff with a chuckle. "i've known chicago detectives to come down here and have their socks stolen off their feet!" "aw, they ain't detectives," argued tommy. "they belong to this bunch of train robbers. i saw 'em talking with the robbers not very long ago. you just ask these robbers if these two men don't belong to their gang." as tommy spoke he turned to where the two robbers lay and gave a very grave and significant wink. "they belong to our gang, all right enough," one of the outlaws stated, remembering various indignities they had received at the hands of detectives. "that's a lie!" thundered katz. "lie nothing!" replied the outlaw. "these fellows brought in two burros loaded with provisions for us, and we haven't been able to get to them yet. if you go back in the valley to the west, and travel north a few miles, you'll find where the burros and provisions are hidden away." tommy drew nearer to the outlaw and under pretense of picking something from the floor whispered in his ear: "we'll see that you get a year off your sentence for that. we've just got to get rid of these imitation detectives." "i don't believe you can make it stick, katz," the other outlaw cried out, apparently in a very serious tone, although there was a wrinkle of humor about his grim mouth. "when we started out to rob the union pacific train you promised to see that we got provisions, and you didn't keep your word!" the eyes of the two detectives stuck out, as tommy afterwards expressed it, far enough to hang a coat and hat on. they almost foamed with rage as they stamped about the cavern, still linked together with the steel handcuffs. "we're being jobbed!" katz shouted. "it's a frame-up!" echoed cullen. "frame up nothing!" laughed one of the outlaws. "do you mean to say," said sheriff pete, turning to the two prisoners, "that these two men who claim to be detectives are actually connected with your gang?" "that's what we'll swear to!" declared one of the outlaws. "two years off for that!" chuckled tommy in a low tone. "i tell you it's a frame up!" shouted katz. "it's a dirty trick to get us out of the state without arresting this fugitive from justice." "i'm sorry boys," sheriff pete said to them, with official gravity, although there was a twinkle in his eyes, "but under the circumstances, it's my duty to take you to lander and give you a hearing before the grand jury. personally, i have my doubts as to the truth of the charges made against you, but at the same time i've got to take ministerial cognizance of them. i'm sorry, but it's my duty." "and in the meantime," yelled cullen, "these boy scouts will get this fugitive from justice out of our reach!" "i don't know anything about that!" said the sheriff, "but if they try to do anything of that kind, i'm afraid they'll succeed." "well," gilmore, the sweetwater sheriff said, "i presume we'd better be moving along with the prisoners. if it's true that these two alleged detectives, who now turn out to be train robbers," he added with a glance at the boys, "have a camp with plenty of provisions at the north end of the next valley, we'd better take the whole bunch there and get the provisions and pack the whole outfit over to lander with us." "are you going back to camp now?" asked sheriff pete, turning to will. "just as soon as tommy gets filled up on bear steak, i think we'd better be moving." sheriff gilmore and the deputies now started away with the four prisoners and the boys watched them sliding and scrambling down the slope to the gully. will reached out and took sheriff pete by the hand. "you're a brick!" he said. "you not only know how to do things, but you know how to do them right. if you ever come up to chicago, don't forget to call on lawyer horton, and he'll tell you where we are." "i'll not fail to do so," the sheriff answered, "but, in the meantime," he went on, "it ought to take about a week or two for these detectives to establish their innocence, eh?" "i should say about two weeks," replied will. "and see here," the boy went on, "i hope you won't be too hard on those train robbers. they're pretty decent fellows after all." "they're the first men that ever held me up!" laughed the sheriff. "forget it!" exclaimed will. "oh, i don't lay that up against them!" the sheriff replied. "after all," he continued, "they were careful not to injure any one on the hold-up they're accused of, and i don't think they'll get more than five or six years." the officers and the boys parted with feelings of mutual regret. they had not had much faith or confidence in each other at first, but in the end each group knew the worth of the other. the parting between the boys and seth was particularly heartfelt. although sheriff pete had been trying to reach information he sought in his own way, the deputy had faced him down when he believed that the boys were to be lynched. there was many a good laugh after that, in the room of the sheriff at lander. when at last the boys reached their camp and the two men who had brought the escaped convict down had disappeared, sandy came creeping out from under a pile of blankets in one of the tents. "what do you know about that?" asked tommy, pointing to the boy. sandy yawned and rubbed his eyes. "say, what time is it?" he asked. "four o'clock!" replied will. "is it yesterday or today?" asked sandy. "it's the day after tomorrow!" grinned tommy. "don't get funny, now," sandy advised. "whatever day it is, i've been asleep ever since you boys went away." chapter xxi conclusion "you never have!" declared tommy. "honest!" replied sandy. "i filled myself up with provisions and crawled under the blanket and went to sleep just after you went away to get some bear steak for breakfast. did you get the steak?" the boy added with a grin. "you bet i did," answered tommy, "and i brought it back with me," he added, stroking the waistband of his trousers. "how's your shoulder?" "fine as a fiddle," was the reply. "i'm not going to have any trouble with it after this! did you find chester's fond parent," he added, glancing in the direction of the escaped convict. "sure we did," replied tommy. "and, do you know," the boy went on, "that we needn't have bothered about finding him at all. chester knows everything about the fremont case that the father does." "is that right, chester?" asked sandy. "now you come on over here to father," chester said, "and we'll ask him what took place in the private room of fremont's bank that night, and we'll see if his memory of the things which occurred there is the same as mine." the boys now all trooped to the tent where mr. wagner had been placed and chester asked: "do you know why these boys are here, father?" "to take me back to prison, i suppose," was the almost sullen reply. "they are here to establish your innocence," the son went on. "do you know why?" the father glanced keenly from his son to the others and finally asked, his voice trembling with excitement: "why should they take an interest in me?" "because," will broke in, "you can help us, and we want to help you. we have information that you are innocent of the crime of which you were convicted, and we believe that you have information which will prevent the conviction of an innocent man." "do you refer to the fremont case?" asked wagner. "exactly," replied will. "and i'd like to ask you now," the boy went on, "before anything more is said, why you never communicated with young fremont's attorney. he advertised for you extensively, and you might have held conference with him without subjecting yourself to arrest." "i saw the advertisement," was the reply, "but i thought it was only a trap set by the police. i was determined not to go back to the penitentiary. if i had been captured by the police, i would have killed myself. i had no money, no influence, and it would have been impossible for me to establish my innocence, so i decided to let young fremont look out for himself. i know now that i was wrong." "you were in the bank that july night?" asked will. "yes, i was there with my son," was the reply. the boys looked wonderingly at chester. "what took place?" asked will. "fremont was working late in his private room, and the janitor and nightwatchman were moving about the building, from the deposit vaults in the basement to the ironclad room which enclosed the big safe. "i went there to see mr. fremont in order to secure financial help. he had been an old friend of my parents, and i had every reason to believe that he would assist me if i could get to him. after a long time i attracted the attention of the night watchman, and he admitted me at a side door on the request of mr. fremont." "who else was in the building at that time?" asked will. "no one that i know of," was the reply. "i stated my case to mr. fremont in the presence of my son and he handed me one hundred dollars in small bills, advising me to remain in hiding until i could arrange for a new trial. he said when he gave me the money that the sum was more than he had left, but that he would never again feel that he needed money. "i did not understand what he meant, and said so. he told me then that he had been plunging heavily in wall street. he said that he had lost every dollar he had in the world, and that his interest in the bank would be taken from him the next day unless a wealthy friend he was depending on came to his assistance that very night." "did he tell you the name of the man he expected there that night?" asked will. "he did," replied the escaped convict, "but i do not now recall the name. i can't for the life of me bring it back to my mind." "the name," chester interrupted, "was myron m. douglass." "a chicago multi-millionaire!" exclaimed will. "i asked mr. fremont what course he intended to pursue, and he replied that there was only one thing he could do if the man he had appealed to refused to aid him. as he told me this he opened a drawer in his desk and pointed to an automatic revolver lying on top of a pile of papers." "and you left it lying there?" asked will. "no," chester answered, "i snatched the revolver out of the drawer and brought it away with me. when we left the private room by the side door, mr. fremont was standing beside his desk with a smile upon a very white face. he said he had another revolver in another drawer, and would use it if he did not hear from mr. douglass before midnight." "did you believe him to be in earnest?" asked will. "i did not think he would kill himself when it came down to the real point." "did you immediately leave the vicinity of the bank?" asked the boy. "no," replied chester. "we walked about the building until after twelve o'clock." "did you hear any significant sounds?" asked will. "pistol-shots," was the reply. "then you knew what had taken place?" "yes, sir, we thought we did." "what next?" "while we stood at the side door of the bank, wondering what we ought to do, mr. fremont's son came running up the steps. at first i felt disposed to give him some intimation as to what had taken place, but i hadn't the courage to do so. he opened the side door with a key and entered, and we left the city and the state. we came here, and i was dazed by a fall, but this last hurt has corrected the injury done by the first one." "there you are!" said will. "the case is closed. the boy scouts may as well go back to chicago now. there's one more mystery. who built the fire in your old cave?" "i did before the last fall," wagner said. "of course, we can stay here and fish and hunt if we want to," laughed will, "and i think it may be well to do so for a week or so, but right now we have come to the ending of the trail." the boys spent two very pleasant weeks in wyoming without further annoyance. when they returned to chicago, wagner and chester went with them. the case against young fremont fell to the ground as soon as the testimony of wagner and his son was taken, and the innocence of the escaped convict was established so thoroughly to the satisfaction of the police that he was never tried again. the boys saw both wagner and chester were provided with congenial situations. after the boys had been in chicago a couple of weeks they met katz and cullen on clark street. the detectives flamed red in the face at sight of the boys, but were very humble when addressing them. "we have forgotten what took place in wyoming," katz said significantly. "and so have we," replied tommy. "no one here knows anything about it! it was rather a mean trick to play on you, but we had to do something to get wagner to testify in the fremont case." "forget it!" cried katz, and the two went on their way, after receiving their badges from tommy. the boys had been in chicago not more than a month when a letter from the famous criminal lawyer brought them to his office again. "are you boys ready to take a trip to the north?" he asked. "i want you to go way up into the hudson bay country and do a little work that a group of boy scouts can do better than any one else in the world." "sure, we'll go!" answered will. "we were saying last night that we were getting tired of hanging around chicago." the boys started away the very next day. what they saw and did on the journey will be found in the next volume of this series entitled: boy scouts in northern wilds; or, the signal from the hills. the end. the boy scouts patrol by ralph victor illustrated by rudolf mencl chapter i. a monkey trick ii. finding money iii. two and two iv. up the river v. out of the river vi. the enemy makes a raid vii. the colonel viii. talking it over ix. the pursuit x. looking for a clue xi. forming the patrol xii. organized xiii. a challenge xiv. a defiance xv. pepper takes a message xvi. where was pepper? xvii. the message xviii. in the judge's office xix. a narrow escape xx. a night alarm xxi. a surprise xxii. the race xxiii. conclusion the boy scouts patrol chapter i a monkey trick "i think--" began a tall, slenderly-built lad of sixteen, speaking in a somewhat indolent way; then suddenly he paused to look down through the trees to where the river gleamed below. "what's on your mind now, rand?" his companion queried, a boy of about the same age, nearly as tall, but more stoutly built, and as light in complexion as the other was dark. the two were standing at the top of the road that wound down the side of the mountain from the town of creston, which was perched, like the nest of some great bird, in a hollow of the palisades. "i think--" repeated the first speaker, pausing again. "that's right, randolph," approved his companion briskly, "always think twice before you speak once." "i always do, donald graeme," retorted rand; "but what i was really going to say when you interrupted me with your irrelevant remark, was--" "hurrah!" broke in donald, waving his cap in answer to the hail of another boy who was just then seen hurrying down the road toward them. "here comes pepper in a rush, as usual." it was just after dawn of a june morning that the boys were assembling. it was still dark and gloomy, for it had rained during the night and the storm had not yet passed, but the boys having planned a fishing trip for this morning were not to be deterred by the fear of a wet jacket. "hello, fellows!" panted the newcomer, who was smaller and slighter than either of the others, but who made up in activity and energy what he lacked in size. his hair was a glowing red and with it went a temper so quick that the nickname, pepper, that some chum had given him, was most appropriate. it is doubtful if any of his comrades really knew his christian name. certainly he was always "pepper" to every one, even at home, although he was christened philip. "i say, i was afraid you'd be gone when i got here." "well, we would have been," drawled randolph, "only we knew you'd be late, and we took our time." "now that isn't fair, rand," laughed the other, "you know i'm not always late." "well, maybe not always," conceded rand; "but almost always. what was the matter this morning--breakfast late?" "now, you know i didn't wait for breakfast," protested pepper, adding rather reluctantly, "though i did stop for a bite. but even if i am late i'm not last. jack isn't here yet, and he left home first." "oh, he's out on the trail somewhere, i suppose," surmised donald. "he's always chasing for news. he'll be coming along presently with a whole budget. i believe he thinks the paper couldn't go on if it weren't for him." "'that reminds me,' as dick wilson says," interrupted rand, taking a pamphlet from his pocket and holding it out to his companions, "speaking of trails, what do you think of that?" "what is it?" asked pepper, eying it suspiciously. "looks as if the cat had been walking on it." goodness, i hope not. i thought you were always hungry, but if you are only beginning i foresee a famine ahead of us. and to think of all the good food that is wasted on you, pepper," went on donald reflectively. "why, to look at you any one might think that you never had had enough to eat." "that shows how deceiving looks are," replied pepper. "though i never did have enough," he added plaintively. "of course not," returned donald, "there isn't as much as that anywhere." "as much what?" asked rand. "food, grub, provisions, victuals," replied donald, setting off along the road at a pace that put a stop to any more talk. they had gone perhaps about halfway down the hill toward the boathouse when a big bay horse, drawing a light wagon in which were three boys, came quickly around a turn in the road. it bore down on them so suddenly that only by a rapid scramble up the bank by the side of the road did rand and donald save themselves from being bowled over. the newcomers would have driven on with a jeering laugh only that pepper, angry at what obedience, neatness and order are scout virtues. endurance, self-reliance, self-control and an effort to help some one else are scout objectives." "ah, cut it out!" protested pepper. "as alphonse says 'that makes me the ennui.' it sounds like a boarding school prospectus. tell as what it's about." "well, then," replied rand, "in words adapted to your comprehension, it is about hunting, scouting, camping, tracking; and colonel snow is interested in the organization. he says that it is fine." "speaking of tracking," interjected donald, "in my opinion it were no bad plan to be making tracks toward the boathouse if we are going to get anywhere the day. it is getting bright in the east and it looks like a clear day, after all. and i may also take occasion to remark that i haven't had my breakfast yet, and this boy scout business doesn't sound inviting on an empty stomach. we can discuss it with more comfort when we have had a bite." "that's the talk!" approved pepper. "that suits me down to the ground. i'm beginning to get hungry myself." "beginning!" exclaimed donald. "my "that isn't a bad guess," laughed rand. "it is supposed to represent the track of a bear." "what are you going to do, rand?" questioned donald, "hunt bears?" "not at present," answered rand, "though i should like to well enough. this is a booklet about the boy scouts." "the boy scouts!" demanded pepper; "what's them?" "shades of lindley murray!" exclaimed rand, "do i hear aright? what's them! and you a graduate of number one. really, pepper blake, i don't believe we can let you in on this. what do you think about it, don?" "i have my doubts about it," replied donald gravely. "but what is it?" persisted pepper. "it sounds good to me." "that is better," drawled rand. "it not only sounds good, but it is good, as you elegantly express it. it, according to the pamphlet that i have here, is an organization for boys between the ages of twelve and eighteen to train them in self-reliance, manhood and good citizenship. the movement is not essentially military," went on rand, "but the military virtues of discipline, looked like a deliberate attempt to run over them, sprang to the horse's head as it was passing, catching the bridle, and with a loud "whoa" he brought the outfit to a stop. "what are you t-t-trying to do, jim rae!" he shouted to the youthful driver, "run over us?" "aw, g-g-go on, kiddie!" retorted jim, a stout lad of about rand's age, with a freckled face and a shock of aggressive red hair, mimicking pepper, who, when excited, sometimes stuttered. "aw, g-g-go on. little boys shouldn't play in the road." "if you can't d-drive without getting all over the road," went on pepper, "why d-don't you let somebody d-drive that knows how--" "aw, g-g-go chase yourself," cried jim. "you ought to bring youse mamma along to take care of youse. get up, bill!" with a flourish of the whip and a jerk on the lines. the horse made a jump, but pepper held firmly to the bridle and brought it to a stop. "let go that horse!" shouted jim. "hit him with the whip, jim," urged one of the boys in the wagon. "d-d-don't you dare hit me with that whip," warned pepper as jim snapped the whip close to him, "or you will wish you hadn't." "aw, what would you do?" retorted jim, tauntingly flourishing the lash dangerously close to pepper's face. "you ain't big enough to scare me baby brother." "you had better not try it, jim rae," asserted pepper, "or i'll pull you out of there so quick that you will think a cyclone struck you." "you mean a wind bag, don't you?" sneered jim, aiming a blow at pepper, who now loosened his hold upon the horse's bridle to jump toward the wagon, whereupon jim changed his purpose and struck the horse with the whip. with a loud "giddap" they started with a bound, missing pepper by a hair's breadth, and driving on down the road at a rattling pace. "that's a regular m-monkey trick, jim rae, all right!" shouted pepper. "but i'll get even with you yet!" the only answer of the boys in the wagon was a taunting laugh as they drove away. randolph and donald had taken no part in the controversy, not exactly approving of pepper's disputing with the enemy, but they had stood at hand ready for any emergency should one arise. chapter ii finding money the three boys stood for a moment looking after the rapidly disappearing wagon, then, stooping down, rand picked up something from the road. "it isn't worth trying, rand," advised donald. "you couldn't hit him if you wanted to, and you wouldn't want to if you could. you can get even with him some better way." "right as usual, donald," laughed rand, "but i wasn't looking for anything to throw at him. i just happened to see this lying on the ground and picked it up." holding out a coin he had found, he added: "what do you make of it?" "w-w-what is it?" stammered pepper, all excitement. "it l-looks like an old-fashioned cent." "you have got me," replied donald. "i never saw any money like that." "let's have a close look at it," put in pepper. the boys studied over the coin, which was of the size of the early copper cent, for some time without being much the wiser. "see, there is a representation of a ship under full sail," remarked rand, "with the name constitution on it. i wonder what it means?" "and it has the words 'webster credit current' around it," added pepper. "and on the other side is shown the ship wrecked on some rocks. something about wrecking the constitution, i suppose," added rand. "this side says, 'van buren metallic current,' with the date ' '," put in donald. "i have it!" suddenly ejaculated rand. "of course you have," admitted donald, "but do you know what it is?" "i see i must speak by the book, as hamlet says," laughed rand. "i mean i know what it is." "what is it, then?" demanded donald. "it is some kind of a token, i think," replied rand, "but i will ask uncle floyd about it. he will sure know." "i w-w-wonder if there are any more of them," stammered pepper, looking along the road. "yes, here is another one." "is it like this?" asked rand. "it looks very similar," replied pepper, still hunting about. "find any more?" called donald. "not yet." nor were there any more found, although they looked long and carefully up and down the road for some time. "what is the difference between them?" questioned pepper, when they had finally given up the hunt and sat down by the side of the road to compare the two coins. "why, instead of a ship this one shows, on the one side, a man in a chest with a sword in one hand and a bag of money in the other, and around the edge are the words, 'i take the responsibility.' the other side has the wreck like the first one," concluded rand after he had examined them. "it's a very curious thing," he continued, handing the one coin back to pepper. "i don't see anything very curious about them," demurred donald. "i mean it is very curious how they got here," explained rand. "i don't see anything very curious about that, either," went on donald. "why shouldn't they be here as well as anywhere?" "i don't know, i am sure," laughed rand, "only i don't see why they should be here, or anywhere, for that matter." "oh, i don't know," replied donald. "somebody probably dropped them as they were going along." "undoubtedly," agreed rand. "i don't believe that they grew here. but who dropped them and how did they happen along here?" "ask jack," suggested donald, "he'll make a whole story out of it." "they certainly are not common," went on rand, "and people don't usually carry them in their pockets. i'd like to know the history of these and how they came here, but i don't suppose i ever shall. but, speaking of curious things, what do you suppose monkey rae was doing with that horse and wagon?" "driving them," drawled pepper. "what do you think he was doing with them, using them for an aeroplane?" "no," returned rand, "i thought maybe he was using them to dredge for clams. but, speaking of clams, which would you sooner do or go a-fishing?" "go a-fishing!" cried donald and pepper, starting off on a run down the hill to the boat-house. "well," began pepper as soon as they were fairly inside the house, "didn't i hear somebody say breakfast?" at the same time starting to get out of the locker the various utensils that the boys kept at the house to cook with on their fishing trips. "hold on there, pepper," remonstrated donald, as pepper continued to pull out one pan after another. "we don't need ail that stuff. what do you think you are going to do, get up a banquet? if you are going to use ail those pots and pans, son, you will have to wash them by your lonesome." "huh!" replied pepper, "there wouldn't be any novelty about that. the dish-washing seems to gravitate my way anyhow." "that's because you use so many more of them than the rest of us," explained donald. "why, i don't use any more of them than you do," expostulated pepper. "well, maybe you don't use any more," admitted don with a judicial air, "but you use them more." pepper was about to retort in kind when there was a quick step outside the door and an alert-looking, brown-haired, brown-eyed boy, with his cap perched upon the back of his head, dashed into the room. "hello, fellows!" he cried, "i thought i wasn't going to get here in time, but i see i struck it at the psychological moment. i am as hungry as a bull pup." "hello, jack!" responded rand, "we began to think you weren't coming. what's the latest in creston?" "oh, there is something worth while to-day," replied jack, drawing a box up to the plank that served as a table. "pass me some of those biscuits, pepper, if you don't mind sparing a few, so i can eat while i talk." "better not try it, jack," cautioned rand, "for if you eat as fast as you talk or talk as fast as you eat you will either starve yourself or choke." "all right," laughed jack, "if that is the case i'll eat first and talk afterwards," and this he would do, notwithstanding the pleadings of the others, anxious to share in any exciting news. chapter iii two and two while the boys are finishing their breakfast it may be well to introduce them to the reader. the four, who were known among their acquaintances as the "inseparables," had been classmates for several terms at school no. i, of creston, from which they had graduated the previous year and were now students of the hilltop academy, where they were preparing for college. rand--randolph in full, surname peyton--who was slightly the eldest of the four, was the nephew of mr. scott, president of the creston national bank. he was a native of virginia, having come to creston after the death of his father some two years before this time, with his mother and sister. he was bright, but inclined to be indolent, except when aroused, when his energy knew no limit. he was slow in speech, having the soft southern drawl with a tendency to slur his r's, and was a natural leader among his companions, both in their sports and their studies. donald graeme, sometimes nicknamed old solomon, was the son of the chief engineer of the creston paper mills, and one of a considerable family of boys and girls. he was of scotch descent and inherited many of the characteristics of his ancestry as well as many of their superstitions. something of the burr clung to his tongue, and he was given to the occasional use of a scotch word or phrase. he had also the scotch canniness and never committed himself by a positive opinion. although not as quick as rand, he was more persistent and usually carried out, to the end, anything that he entered upon. jack blake was the oldest son of mr. blake, editor and publisher of the crest, the newspaper of the town. brought up in the newspaper atmosphere, jack had early developed a nose for news and was the best reporter, although unofficial, on the paper. he was always on the lookout for items and always putting two and two together, sometimes with most surprising results. lastly, pepper blake, jack's younger brother, who was of a quicker, more nervous, disposition than the others and given to stammering when excited. impetuous and quick-tempered, he was always getting into difficulties, but always finding a way out. romantic and imaginative, but with a streak of hard horse-sense beneath. "well," observed rand, when jack at last rose from his box with a sigh of satisfaction, "what is the exciting thing you have got to tell us this morning? whose barn is being painted now?" "judge taylor's office was robbed last night," replied jack laconically. "what's that!" cried rand. "judge taylor's office was robbed last night," repeated jack, enjoying the sensation his news had made. "w-w-what!" stammered pepper. "who did it?" "that's what we all want to know," answered jack. "what did they get?" asked donald. "how did they get in?" went on pepper. "one at a time, boys," put in rand. "come, jack, tell us the whole story." "well, all i know is, officer dugan found a window open this morning and the place all upside down. the judge hadn't come down yet, so they don't know what's missing. from the tracks around it looks as if some boys were mixed up in it." "that's queer," commented rand. "i wonder who it could have been, and what they were after?" "money, of course," said pepper. "i don't think so," returned jack. "if it was money i think they would have picked out a more likely place. i guess it must have been papers, or something like that." "pooh!" criticized donald, "what would anybody in their senses want to steal papers for?" "there are more unlikely things than that," replied jack. "i have read of such things." "pshaw!" retorted donald, "that's nothing. i've read of robbers' caves and all that sort of thing, but i've never seen any." "which proves there never were any," retorted jack sarcastically. "have you got any dues, sherlock?" asked rand laughingly. "not yet," replied jack seriously, "but i am looking for them. they sometimes turn up in the most unexpected places." "huh!" sniffed donald, "your turnips run mostly to tops." while talking thus, the boys had been putting their supplies and tackle into the boat which they had run out into the river. "which way do you want to go?" asked rand when they were ready to start. "up," said pepper. "down," said jack. "what do you say, don?" continued rand. "either way," replied donald. "let them toss up for it." taking the coin he had picked up in the road from his pocket rand tossed it into the air. "what do you say, jack?" he asked. "heads!" responded jack. "tails it is," announced rand as he picked it up. "pepper wins. up, we go." "what have you got there, rand?" asked jack, who had been eying the coin rand had tossed; "something new?" "it's something that i found in the road this morning," replied rand, handing the coin over to jack. "pepper found one, too." "found it in the road!" cried jack, instantly on the alert. "that's serious. tell me about it." "there isn't much to tell," replied rand. "monkey rae tried to run us down this morning and we had a near-fight and after he had gone we found them." "well?" questioned jack. "that's all," replied rand. "now i wonder," mused jack, when the story of the encounter with monkey rae and his companions had been gone over in detail for his benefit, "what monkey rae has to do with these things," jingling the coins in his hand. "not as much as you or i have," announced donald. "i can no see any connection between the two." "of course you can't, old wisdom," returned jack. "you lack imagination, but i think it is there just the same. whose horse and wagon was it?" "that's another strange part of it," replied rand. "i never saw them before. i was wondering whose they were, and where he got them." "that's so," agreed pepper. "i never thought of that; the truth is, i was so busy with monkey that i didn't look at them." "well," broke in don, "if you ask my opinion i think it would be more to the purpose if we went on our own business instead of wasting time in speculating on what is no concern of ours." "all right, solomon-donald," said rand; "it sounds wise." "even if it is mostly sound," growled jack. chapter iv up the river "are you all ready?" called rand, who was stroke. "pull!" the boys bent to their work in earnest, and but few words were spoken while they sent the boat along, mile after mile, until they had gone some half dozen miles up the river. "phew!" exclaimed pepper at length, "what is the matter with stopping here?" "tired?" asked donald. "well, i feel as if i had been doing something," replied pepper, resting on his oar. "i suppose there isn't much choice in the matter," remarked rand; "one place is probably as good as another." "only some of them are better," put in jack. "and this is one of them," asserted pepper, "and there is a nice green place over there on the shore where we can put in and cook some fish for dinner." "if we have any to cook," suggested donald. "you know you have first to catch your fish before you can cook them." "we'll do that, too, old solomon the second," returned jack, who was in the bow. "that's what we came out for. shall i let go the anchor, rand?" "all right, let it go," ordered rand. "easy now, if you don't want to scare all the fish away. what are you trying to do?" as jack gave the anchor a swing and, failing to let go of the painter, promptly went overboard with it. "i just went down to see if the anchor got to the bottom," explained jack a moment later, as he scrambled over the side. "we thought you were going to dive for the fish," said pepper, "like the hawks do." "maybe i will try that later," replied jack, shaking himself like a dog to get rid of some of the water. "now, then, who is going to get the first bite." for the next few moments the boys were busy getting their tackle in order and into the water, after which they settled down to await results. "i had almost forgotten," broke in jack after a pause, as the fish did not seem eager to be caught. "i met colonel snow this morning--" "indeed," said rand sarcastically, "that's news." "now you needn't go off at half-cock," retorted jack, "wait until i get through." "well, what about it?" asked donald. "why, he said--hurrah, i've got a bite!" cried jack, pulling in his line. "he did!" exclaimed rand. "that was a queer thing for him to say." "no, the colonel didn't say that," explained jack, as he landed a good-sized perch in the bottom of the boat, "there's one for luck. that was a comment of my own. wait until i put a fresh bait on and i will tell you what he did say. he said--" "hurrah, i've got one!" interjected pepper, pulling in his line and landing another fish. "why, that's the same thing he didn't say before," commented donald, referring to the colonel. "he said--" began jack again, but the fish were now biting freely and the boys were so busy pulling them in that, for a time, they quite forgot the colonel and what it was that he said. "if you haven't forgotten," began donald, a little later, when there came a lull in the biting, "i would like to know just what it was that the colonel did say." "why, he said," resumed jack, "that he wanted us to form a patrol." "a patrol!" repeated donald. "for what? ain't there enough police?" "this isn't a police patrol," laughed jack, "this is a patrol in the boy scouts. it's a company of from six to eight boys. two or more patrols form a troop under a scoutmaster who teaches them a lot of things." "what kind of things?" asked pepper. "all kinds of things about woodcraft and how to hunt and fish and follow trails and camp out and--and--all the rest of it." "that's a pretty comprehensive programme," said rand. "we were talking about that very thing this morning." "gee!" cried pepper. "t-t-that would be fine. let's do it--" "there's quite a lot of things we have to do first," went on jack. "maybe rand can tell you more about that part than i can." "for the first thing," said rand, "we have to get at least six boys to start with." "that's two more than us," interjected pepper; "that's easy." "and form a tenderfoot patrol," went on rand. "why tenderfoot?" put in donald. "because we are all tenderfeet until we learn to be scouts," continued rand. "then if we pass the examinations we become second-class scouts." "second class!" objected pepper. "why can't we be first class?" "we can," replied rand, "if we keep on and pass the examinations." "examinations!" cried pepper, "why that sounds like school." "what do we have to be examined in?" asked donald. "on joining," went on rand, reading from a pamphlet he had in his hand, "a boy must pass a test on the following points: know the scout law and signs and salute." "the scout law!" said pepper, "what's that?" "the scout law," read rand, "is: " . a scout's honor is to be trusted. " . a scout is loyal to his country, his officers, his parents and his employers." "wait a minute," interposed jack, "until i land this fellow," and another fish was added to their mess. "all right, drive ahead." " . a scout's duty is to be useful and help others. " . a scout is a friend to ail, and a brother to every other scout, no matter to what social class the other belongs. " . a scout is courteous." "now it is my turn," interpolated rand, pulling in another fish. " ," he went on, "a scout is a friend to animals. " . a scout obeys orders by his parents, patrol leader, or scoutmaster, without question. " . a scout smiles and whistles under all circumstances. " . a scout is thrifty." "crickets!" cried pepper when rand finished, "there's a whole lot to learn, ain't there? we shall have to get busy. is there any more to it?" "know the composition of the national flag and how to fly it," read rand. "i guess i can get ten on that, all right," remarked pepper. "and tie four of the following knots: reef, sheet-bend, clove-hitch, bow line, middleman's, fisherman's, sheepshank," finished rand. "we can pass on that all right," commented pepper. "say, what time is it? i begin to feel as if i would like a bite--one of the other kind. don't you think we have fish enough?" "do you think so?" asked don gravely. "better look them over and be sure. the rest of us may want some, you know." "oh, i guess there is enough to go around," replied pepper, with a laugh. "i am not so bad as that." "well, if you are sure there are enough," said rand, "we might go on shore and do some cooking. i say, pull up the anchor, jack, and you needn't go after it, you know." "oh, just as you say," replied jack, hauling up the kedge. chapter v out of the river "here comes the dart," announced jack, as a hoarse whistle sounded down the river. the anchor had, by this time, been lifted into the boat and they had started to row toward the shore. "she has a whistle like an ocean liner." "you want to look out for the swell," warned pepper, "she kicks up a bigger swell than any other boat on the river." "as big as the hudson or fulton?" asked donald. "why, they are half a dozen times as big as she is." "she isn't one-eighth their size," replied jack, "but she has got more power, for her size, than any of them. she has three smokestacks like the fulton. just see her come!" the dart, a long, low, white yacht, was coming up the river at full speed, the water curling away from her bow in a miniature cascade, the powerful engines driving her through the water with the speed of an express train. "gee!" cried pepper, "look at her come. say, she'd make fulton with the clermont think he was traveling backward if he was here. she is sure some boat." "who owns her?" asked donald. "she belongs to mr. whilden," replied jack. "he is president of the dart motor-cycle company, you know." "gee!" cried pepper, "i wish he was my uncle, or something." "what for, pepper?" queried rand. "want him to invite you to go yachting?" "that wouldn't be bad," affirmed pepper, "and maybe if he liked my looks he might take a fancy to me and give me a cycle. say, fellows, wouldn't it be great if we all had motor-cycles!" "in my opinion," interjected donald, "'tis just a waste of time wishing for what ye'll no get." "oh, there is no harm in wishing," returned pepper. "you might just as well wish for a big thing as a little one." "just look at the wave following her," interrupted jack. "it must be more than five feet higher than the level of the river. we will have to keep head on if we don't want to be swamped." "see that canoe over there," broke in pepper, and pointing to another boat. "they will be in trouble pretty soon if they don't watch out." "where away?" asked rand. "over there by the other shore," replied pepper. "they will turn turtle sure, if that wave catches them sideways." the boys were resting on their oars, watching the rapidly-approaching boat. "maybe we had better row over that way," suggested donald. "there are a couple of girls in the canoe and they may need some help." "that chap is all right," concluded rand, after he had watched the canoe for a little while. "he knows how to handle it. he is doing fine. see, he is just touching the water with his paddle, so as to keep it head-on. maybe he thinks we will need some help." nevertheless, the boys kept on a course that would bring them near enough to the canoe to aid its occupants if they should need it. "now look at that!" cried donald suddenly, when the boys were a hundred yards from the canoe. "did you ever see such a fool trick as that? just when he was coming out all right, too. pull for ail you are worth, boys!" even as he spoke the boys had gripped their oars and sent their boat at racing speed for the canoe. what had called forth donald's exclamation was, that just as the dart was passing the canoe one of the girls, who was seated in the stern, had suddenly risen to her feet to wave her handkerchief at some one on the yacht. as she stood up the swell from the yacht caught the light craft, rolling it from side to side, and the girl losing her balance pitched headlong over the side of the boat, capsizing it. in a moment they were all struggling in the river. as the canoe went over the man caught the girl nearest to him and helped her to the boat and then turned to aid the other girl, but she had disappeared. "nellie!" he called, striking out in the direction he had last seen her. "nellie, nellie! where are you?" by this time the boys had reached the scene of the upset. "keep up your courage," shouted rand, "we'll pick you up!" [illustration: "they were all struggling in the water."] "never mind me!" called the young man as they came near. "see if you can't save my sister. she doesn't know how to swim." "all right," called rand, "we'll find her." "where has she gone?" asked donald. "i don't see anything of her," said rand, who was standing in the bow of the boat intently watching for any sign of the girl. "yes, there she is." a pale face had appeared for a moment on the surface. "straight ahead, boys!" as the boat came to the spot where he had seen her rand made a long dive overboard, coming up a moment later with the inanimate body of the girl. he was joined almost immediately by donald, who had followed him overboard, and so aided him in supporting her until pepper and jack had reached them with the boat. it required no little effort on the part of the boys to get the helpless girl into the boat, but it was finally done, and they rowed back to the assistance of the others. the other girl was helped from the overturned canoe, to which she was clinging, into their boat which was now loaded to its full capacity. "never mind me," called the man, who was about twenty-two or three years old, "i can hold on behind until we get ashore!" "is she alive?" asked the other girl, as she was helped into the boat, looking fearfully at the girl lying in the stern. "very much so," answered pepper, who had been feeling her pulse. "the first thing to do is to get some of the water out of her lungs, if there is any there. hold her with her head down. that's all right! now, then, let's get ashore as fast as we can." as the canoe had overturned the captain of the dart, who was in the pilot house, seeing the accident, had rung for slow speed and, putting the yacht about, hurried back to the place. but, except for the fortunate presence of the boys, it is doubtful if he would have arrived in time to be of any assistance. "can we help you in any way?" called mr. whilden, the owner of the yacht, who was standing at the gangway as it ran down close to the boat. "i was afraid we wouldn't get here in time." "there is an unconscious girl here that would be better on your boat," replied rand. "all right," responded mr. whilden, "we'll take her on board. can you come alongside?" this end was shortly accomplished, then, lifting the girl up in their arms, donald and rand passed her to mr. whilden and the captain. "have you a doctor on board?" called pepper. "she needs attention right away." "yes," responded a gentleman who was standing by. "i am a physician, i will take care of her." at this moment there was a scream from a lady on the yacht as she caught sight of the girl. "why it is nellie! she is dead!" she cried, and would have fallen to the deck if she had not been caught by mr. whilden. "impossible!" he exclaimed. "how in the world could nellie get here?" adding a moment later as he looked more closely: "surely it is she. is there any hope for her, doctor?" "of course there is," replied the physician. "she is coming around all right, thanks to these young men, who rescued her." "and where are they?" asked mr. whilden. "i had almost forgotten them in the excitement," turning to the boys, who had come on board to learn as to the fate of the girl. shaking hands with them again and again, he explained: "she is my daughter. i hadn't any idea she was anywhere near, and i don't see how it happened yet. why, hello, frank!" addressing the young man who had been in the canoe, and who was now wringing the water from his clothes. "what in the world were you doing here?" "why, nellie and i," explained frank, agitatedly--he had not yet recovered from the shock of his experience--"came down to visit mabel, and we went out for a cruise on the river." "but how did it happen?" interrupted mr. whilden, "i thought you knew how to handle a canoe." "i thought i did, too," replied frank, "but nellie saw you on the deck and, forgetting where she was, attempted to stand up to wave her handkerchief to you, and, the next thing we knew we were all in the water." "i can't thank you enough," began mr. whilden, again turning to the boys. "not at all," protested rand, "we are very glad we were in time. come on, boys, it is time we were getting along." "now," went on mr. whilden, "isn't there something i can do for you?" "nothing, thank you," replied donald. "now that miss nellie is all right--i see that she is herself again--we will say good-by and go on." "good-by, then, and good luck," said mr. whilden, "and if i can ever do anything for you, be sure and let me know." "i want to thank you and to know you, too," added frank. "all right," replied the boys as they pulled away from the yacht, "we shall be glad to see you anytime." giving three blasts of her whistle as a farewell salute the dart resumed her course up the river, "who were the boys?" asked mrs. whilden a little later. "i want to reward them." "why i don't know," replied mr. whilden. "i clear forgot to get their names, after all." "well, i mean to find out for my own account," said frank. "they are worth knowing." chapter vi the enemy makes a raid "you think we had better stop and see if we can catch any more fish before we go ashore?" asked rand, when the dart had gone. "why," asked jack, "there's enough, ain't there?" "there was," allowed rand, "but it is a good deal later now." "i think we had better go on," said jack laughingly. "there is a good place i can see. that strip of beach over there is a natural landing place." "and a green spot back of it that would make a dandy place for a camp," added pepper. "i wish we could come up here and camp," said jack. "wouldn't it be fine?" "i s-s-say!" cried pepper. "well, s-say it," said donald. "let's organize a patrol and come up here and camp out." "you hit the bullseye that time, pepper," cried jack enthusiastically. "'twould no be a bad idea," admitted don. "ah done reckon dat am a fac', for shuah," drawled rand in the negro dialect, of which he was master. "we will get colonel snow to start us," added jack. "agreed!" cried the others. "and we will see him just as soon as we go back." "and start the thing right away." talking enthusiastically over their plans, the boys pulled the boat in to the shore. "see that curious-looking house up there," broke in don. "i didn't know there was anybody living up here." "house! where?" asked rand. "there, among the trees. it is covered with bark so you would hardly notice it." "oh, yes, looks like a big tree," said jack. "must be a hermit." "but i thought hermits always lived in caves," demurred pepper. "well, here is one that doesn't," replied jack. "let's go and see him," suggested rand. "i don't think we had better," doubted pepper. "if he's a hermit he doesn't want visitors, and maybe he is an outlaw." "an outlaw," laughed jack. "what have you been reading lately?" "why, there ain't 'no sich things,' at least around here," added rand. "well," persisted pepper, "there's no use rushing into things you don't know anything about, and besides we want something to eat first." "pepper wants to make sure of his dinner, whatever happens," said rand. "somebody else thinks the same way, too, from the smoke up there." "smoke, where?" asked donald. "up there on the top of the mountain," replied rand. "see that haze floating away." "i thought that was a cloud," said jack. "i wonder what it means?" "that some hunters are making a fire to cook with," volunteered donald. "of course that is it," agreed rand. "you can always depend upon old solomon to knock the romance out of anything." "well, i don't know," continued jack. "it looks queer to me." "oh, everything looks queer to you," argued donald. "you are always seeing mysteries." "yes," retorted jack, "and you can't see them until they come up to you and hit you over the head. i've got more than half a notion to go there and see what it is. any of you want to go?" "not i," replied rand. "it's a good two miles up there, if it is one, and my curiosity isn't strong enough to carry me that far." "nor i," added donald. "i can find all the trouble i want without going to the top of the mountain hunting for more." "trouble," said jack. "now, who said anything about trouble?" by this time they had reached the shore and, jumping out of the boat, dragged it up on the beach. "now," called rand, when they had landed, "who wants to be cook? don't all speak at once." "i'll do it," volunteered jack, "but--" "say no more," interjected rand, "we couldn't do worse and don is almost as bad. i reckon, pepper, it must be you or i." "if we don't want to starve," agreed the boy. "if you and jack will clean the fish and don will bring the water and wash the dishes i'll do the cooking," went on rand. "is that fair?" "that's fair, all right," agreed the others. "all right, then," ordered rand, "get busy." while jack and pepper were getting the fish ready, rand brought the stove from the boat, set it up and had it burning, and the pan hot by the time pepper came with the first installment of fish. "gee! that smells good," called jack a little later when the frying fish, under rand's skillful manipulation, began to send forth savory odors. "you can sure cook, rand." "ah done reckon dat am a fac', foh shuah," said rand. "hurry up, rand," broke in pepper. "i can't wait much longer." "all ready, sah," called rand. "dem fishes am prognosticated to ah turn." something passing on the river attracted attention, and the boys all walked a few paces toward the water. at this instant, as their backs were turned, a boy ran swiftly from a nearby clump of bushes, snatched the pan from the stove, overturning the latter as he did so, and silently dashed back into the woods. it was done so quickly and adroitly that pepper, who was the first to catch sight of him, had scarcely time to shout: "there goes monkey rae, and he has got our fish." "what is it?" asked rand in bewilderment. "monkey rae," cried pepper; "he's stolen our fish! come on, boys. after him!" "well, of all things!" exclaimed rand, "that takes the cake." "i t-t-think it takes t-t-the fish," amended pepper, as he dashed away. the boys set out at once in pursuit of the thief, but he had too long a start, and perhaps, some knowledge of the locality, and after a vain hunt they straggled back to the boat without having found any trace of him. "well, that's the meanest thing yet," grumbled pepper, looking at the overturned stove. "the oil has all run out and we can't cook any more," he went on, with so gloomy an expression that, in spite of their anger against monkey rae, the others could not help laughing. chapter vii the colonel "what's the matter, boys?" said a cheery voice behind them, and they turned quickly to meet the smiling glance of a man who was sitting on a rock at the edge of the glade. he was tall, erect, and of military bearing. quick and alert, in spite of his snow-white hair and mustache. "why, colonel snow!" cried jack in astonishment; "where did you come from?" "oh, i saw you some time ago as you were coming ashore," replied the colonel, "and i walked down to meet you. what's the trouble, the enemy been making an attack?" "looks that way," answered rand. "monkey rae made a raid on the commissary and carried off the fish we had cooked." "that's nothing to be concerned over," continued the colonel. "why don't you cook some more?" "can't," replied pepper, "he upset the stove and spilled all the oil we had." "stove!" ejaculated the colonel in scorn. "what do you want with a stove?" "why, you can't cook without a stove," replied pepper, "and, besides, he stole our pan." "pan!" exclaimed the colonel, "and plates, too. when you are out on a tramp all you need is a knife, a tincup and a match. anybody got a match?" "yes, sir," replied jack, "lots of them." "we only need one," answered the colonel. "a good scout doesn't use more than one match to light a fire. why, when i was out in arizona we would make one match do for a whole company." "crickets!" exclaimed pepper, "that was going some." "suppose you let me show you how to cook without a stove. jack, see if you can't find some dry leaves and small twigs. rand, you can get some bigger pieces, plenty of them. that's the kind. and, pepper, you and don bring up a lot of that clay from down there by the water. that's the stuff. now wrap your fish up in a coat of clay. never mind the scales. coat them all over and pile them up here as fast as you get them ready. if we only had some flour we'd have a dinner in the real scout style." "i don't see how you are going to cook them in that clay," put in jack. "we are going to bake them," replied the colonel. "build a good, hot fire on top of them." "like they do with a clam bake?" inquired rand. "that's the idea," said the colonel, who, while talking, had been packing the fish in two layers on a flat rock. "now put your leaves on--not too many--lay on your pieces, rand, pile them up so as to leave a draught. that's it; now, jack, touch it off." jack struck a match which flickered for a minute and went out. "tut! tut!" cried the colonel, "that won't do!" "oh, it doesn't matter," said jack, "i've plenty more." "no," corrected the colonel, "you should rely on only one. now, suppose we are out on the plains and this is your last match. let me show you how to do it." stooping down, the colonel waited a moment until there was a lull in the wind, when he struck the match, shielding it with his hand until it blazed up, and then touched it to the leaves, which, catching the fire, were soon blazing fiercely. "now, then," went on the colonel, "we don't want the enemy swooping down on us again. don't you think it would be a good plan to throw out a picket to keep guard?" "i think it would," replied rand, "although i don't think that he will come back." "you mustn't depend upon that," cautioned the colonel. "always think he will do the most unlikely thing. a good scout is always on the alert, especially in the enemy's country." "we didn't know we were in the enemy's country," said rand, "but i guess it is the enemy's country, wherever monkey is. i'll take the first turn," going off and circling about the place. "i guess he's gone," he said to himself, but no harm looking!" "now," said the colonel, after a time, "i think our fish must be pretty nearly cooked. rake one of them out, don, and try it, but don't disturb the others until you find out. how is it?" "fine!" cried pepper, who had assisted in the operation. "couldn't be better. hadn't we better put on some more?" "you will have to build another fire," replied the colonel. "now, see how well you can do it. do it just as i did and light it from this fire. we had only one match, you know." "but what do you do when that is gone?" asked pepper. "oh, that's a different story," laughed the colonel. "we'll come to that later." "now," began the colonel, when they had finished their meal, unanimously voting it the best dinner they had ever eaten, "i know you all have been wondering how i happened to be here when you came along." "yes, sir," admitted jack, "we were talking about you just before we came ashore." "speaking of angels, i see," said the colonel. "the fact is, boys, i've got a little shack down here in the woods and whenever i get tired of town i come out here and get a breath of the woods, and i was out here to-day." "that was lucky for us," interjected donald. "is that your house above here?" asked rand, "the one covered with bark. we saw it as we came along. pepper was sure an outlaw lived there." "and you weren't so far out of the way at that, were you, pepper?" answered the colonel. "how would you like to take a look at it?" "'twould be most interesting," said donald. "come along then. i see the enemy were out in force," he added when they had gone part of the way. "how was that?" asked rand. "monkey rae," replied the colonel. "there were a number of them." "of monkey raes?" cried rand. "gee! i hope not." "i mean," laughed the colonel, "there were more with him." "yes," said rand, "he and sam hopkins and red burns are always together." "who was the man with them?" went on the colonel. "was there a man with them?" asked jack. "i wonder who he could have been?" "a man who walked with a limp," continued the colonel. "man with a limp," mused jack. "what was he like, did you see him?" "no," replied the colonel. "i only see his track. they came along this way." "where do you see that?" asked rand. "here is the trail," replied the colonel, pointing it out as he spoke. "here is the print of a foot on the dirt and here is another. here is a bigger and a heavier one; a man made those. you can see one of them is deeper than the other, showing more weight on that side." "but, how can you see all that?" questioned pepper. "you have hardly looked at them, and i couldn't see them at all until you pointed them out." "practice and observation," answered the colonel. "that trail is as plain as day. there wasn't any attempt to hide it. why, out on the plains a scout would follow it at a gallop. see how far you can track it." "'twill no be far, in my opinion," confessed donald. "'tis no over plain." but with much care and patience the boys were able to follow the track for a considerable distance, losing it every now and then and picking it up again, rand being the quickest and donald the most persistent; ail of them getting a little more expert as they went on. "where does it go now?" asked jack after a while, when they had lost it and were unable to pick it up again. "that's doing very well for a beginning," commended the colonel. "they went off here, i think to avoid the house, and we are almost there." a short walk brought them to the shack, which was set in a little clearing in the woods. it was one-story high and about sixteen feet square, with a small kitchen in the back. it was provided with two doors, numerous windows, and had a small porch in front. it was ceiled inside and scantily furnished with a few chairs, a couple of tables and a couch, but the walls were ornamented with the heads of deer and elk, as well as the skins of smaller animals, and the floor was covered with bear and panther skins. over the big fireplace hung a shotgun with a couple of rifles, and several indian bows stood in one corner. chapter viii talking it over "i thought you didn't use a stove," remarked jack, opening his eyes in astonishment at the sight of the colonel's well-appointed kitchen. "why not?" asked the colonel, smiling at jack's surprise. "i don't sleep on the ground from choice, when i have a comfortable bed." "but, you said--" continued jack. "this is a permanent headquarters," the colonel went on. "when i go on a march i don't carry all these things with me. what we don't have we get along without, as part of the day's task." "that's a grand pair of horns on that elk's head," admired rand, who was looking at the trophies of the chase that hung on the walls. "isn't there a story that goes with that?" "not much of a story," replied the colonel. "it was killed on a trip i made up in the canadian northwest, and it was a narrow escape for me, too. it was killed by an arrow from one of those bows there." "an arrow!" exclaimed rand. "i didn't know that an elk could be killed with an arrow." "an arrow is as deadly as a bullet at short range," replied the colonel. "you have read of the english archers and their famous long-bows, haven't you?" "and robin hood," put in pepper. "robin hood, of course," continued the colonel. "the indians were dangerous foes, too, even when they had nothing but their bows and arrows." "i wonder if i could learn to shoot with one of them," mused rand, drawing back one of the bows, a feat that required all of his strength. "say, boys, i've got an idea." "hold fast to it," counseled donald. "you may no get another." "let's organize an indian patrol, and we can carry bows and arrows." "it might be worth thinking about," admitted donald. "that's what we wanted to talk to you about, colonel," said jack, "but i am afraid it's too late to take the matter up to-day." "why too late?" "because it is time we were starting for home," answered jack. "no trouble about that," replied the colonel. "i will walk back with you, and we can talk it over as we go along. let's see, there are four of you here?" "yes, there are four of us," replied pepper. "then you need two more to start with." "don't you lock your door when you go out?" was jack's irrelevant query when they were ready to start. "not usually," replied the colonel. "there is no one to bother us up here in the woods. do you think there is any need of it?" he asked quizzically. "i should think there was," declared pepper, "if monkey rae is about." "i hadn't thought of that," admitted the colonel. "giving me some of my own advice, aren't you? always be prepared. i don't know but what i had better follow it." going back into the house he returned with a padlock with which he fastened the door. "there's gerald moore, he would join us," began jack, taking up the subject of the patrol again. "gerald moore!" exclaimed rand in a doubtful tone. "what is the matter with him?" asked the colonel. "he is the son of the janitor at the bank," replied rand, "and--" "anything wrong about him?" continued the colonel. "no," replied rand, "but--" "oh!" said the colonel dryly, "i see. i suppose you all know the scout law." "not yet," replied jack. "rand read it to us, but we haven't learned it yet." "let me see," continued the colonel musingly, "how does number four go?" "it says," read rand, "a scout is a friend to all and a brother to every other scout, no matter to what social class the other belongs. a scout accepts the other man as he finds him, and makes the best of him." the colonel made no comment, and the boys walked on in silence. "i was wrong," acknowledged rand after a little hesitation. "i have no objection to gerald." "when we are going into battle, my boy," said the colonel, stopping on the way for a moment, "we don't stop to consider to what class the man who is fighting alongside of us belongs, and this is a battle you are going into, one to make the most you can out of your lives, and if you can help some one else at the same time so much the greater is your reward." "i see," replied rand, "and i won't forget it." "he was in our class, at school," went on jack. "he quotes poetry," added pepper. "who does?" asked the colonel. "gerald." "that's bad," said the colonel gravely, "but perhaps you could cure him of it." "he says he is descended from tom moore," continued pepper. "well, we needn't hold that against him," suggested donald. "it was no altogether his fault." "then there's dick wilson," proposed jack. "he was in our class, too." "all right," agreed the others, "it's gerald and dick." "very well, then," observed the colonel, "we will consider that settled. when you are ready let me know and i will swear you in. you know what you have to do?" "yes, sir," the boys answered. by this time they came within sight of the landing where they had left the boat, and pepper, who had run on ahead, suddenly raised such an outcry that the others rushed forward in alarm. "what is the matter?" shouted rand. "the b-boat," stammered pepper. "what is the matter with it?" asked donald. "it's g-g-gone!" "gone! where?" demanded jack. "how should i know?" replied pepper. "all i know is that it is gone." sure enough, there was no boat to be seen. chapter ix the pursuit "it must have drifted away," said rand. "sure of that?" asked jack. "i knew it!" suddenly broke in pepper. "then why didn't you tell us," demanded rand. "what did you know?" "monkey rae," replied pepper. "well, what about him?" cried jack. "he has taken the boat," answered pepper. "how do you know?" questioned donald. "there is his track on the sand." "he is certainly very much in evidence," said the colonel. "i wish i could get hold of him once," cried rand vindictively. "i'd much prefer to get hold of the boat just now," put in donald. "there is certainly something queer going on here," observed jack. "more mysteries, jack?" asked rand. "yes," answered jack. "that man is mixed up in this, too." "what man?" asked rand. "the man with the limp," replied jack. "where is he?" "he was here, and i believe he went off in the boat," went on jack. "you can see his tracks around here." "jack is right," confirmed the colonel, "the man has undoubtedly gone off with the boat." "hem," said pepper, "there doesn't seem to be anything safe here. "what are we going to do now?" asked rand. "walk home, i guess," said donald. "i don't know how else we will get there." "there they go now!" cried jack, suddenly pointing to their boat near the other side of the river. "oh, if we only had a boat to follow them in." "i have one," said the colonel. "we can take that. come on, boys!" starting off at a pace that kept the four youths on a run to keep up with him, the colonel led the way back to the house. just before coming to it he stopped. "take that path to the left, it leads down to the landing," he directed. "get the boat you will find there ready, and i will be with you in a minute." "are you going with us?" asked rand. "do you think i am going to be left out of this?" returned the colonel. "not for a minute!" following the colonel's directions, the boys went down to the landing where they found the scout, a -foot cat-boat, moored. jumping on board they made ready to cast her loose, took the stops off the sail and had it partly hoisted when the colonel came along bringing with him a gun. "are you going to shoot them?" asked pepper. "i hope not," replied the colonel, "but it is just as well to be prepared for all emergencies. you are first-rate sailors," he added, stepping on board. "cast her off and up with the sail." "how is that?" called rand. "a little more on the peak; that's it, now pull it home and make fast." during this time the boat had drifted away from the landing and now, as the wind filled the sail she glided out into the river, running free. "see anything of them?" asked the colonel. "not yet," answered rand, who was in the bow looking up the river. "'tis my opinion," said donald, "that we'll be no likely to find them." "there they are!" cried jack. "where away?" asked the colonel. "over there by the other shore," replied jack. "you can just see them." "they have such a long start," doubted rand, "that we will never catch them." "you can't most always tell until you try," observed jack. "and sometimes not then," added pepper. with the wind on her quarter the scout sped up the river on a course that would bring her near to the opposite shore, a little in front of the boat they were pursuing, the occupants of which, evidently having no thought of pursuit, were rowing in a leisurely fashion. it was not until the scout was almost upon them that they gave it any attention, and then only enough to change their course sufficiently to keep out of her way. "boat, ahoy!" finally shouted the colonel. to this hail those in the small boat made no answer, but apparently realizing that the scout was pursuing them, changed their course to run directly to the shore. "in with the sheet!" called the colonel, quickly bringing the scout around; "there, that will do!" as rand and donald hauled in the sail until it was trimmed in as close as it would hold the wind, the boat laying over until her gunwale was under water. holding her up in the wind until the peaks shivered, the colonel kept her on that course until she had run some hundred feet beyond the other boat. "look out, boys!" called the colonel; "we are going about," at the same time bringing the boat up in the wind, and then, as the sail filled again, heading for the other boat. but the man in the small boat was as wary as the colonel, and as the scout came about he changed his course at nearly right angles, and then as the sailboat went by, resumed his former course. "he's an old fox and not easily to be caught," decided the colonel, when this maneuver had been repeated two or three times. "he is making for the other shore, and if he gets in among the shallows over there i am afraid we will lose him yet." the scout was now so close to the smaller boat that the occupants could easily be distinguished. "there is monkey rae," declared pepper. "and sam and red," added jack, "but i don't know who the man is." "boat, ahoy!" shouted the colonel. "what do you want?" snarled the man. "you!" shouted the colonel. "lay to until we come alongside!" "come on," responded the man, "and you will get more than you are looking for!" at the same time displaying a pistol, which he pointed toward the larger boat. "drop that!" commanded the colonel, going forward and covering the man with the gun, while rand took the helm. "if you make any attempt to use that pistol i will disable you at once." with a muttered imprecation the man let the pistol fall and, seizing the oars, began rowing for the shore. "shall we follow him?" asked rand. "there is a sand-bar there, i think," replied the colonel. "if you pull up the centerboard, perhaps we can slide over it. it's no use," he added a moment later as the boat fell off, "we shall have to go round." by this time the small boat had been pulled in close to the shore, where the man, picking up a package from the bottom of the boat, sprang over the side and, followed by the boys, ran up the shore and disappeared in the woods, leaving the boat to drift. "shall we follow them?" asked rand. "i don't want them," said donald. "better let them go, i think," added the colonel. "well, i hope i have seen the last of monkey rae for a good while," went on pepper. "then as dogberry says: 'let us call the watch together and thank god we are rid of a knave,'" quoted rand. picking up the drifting boat the scout was headed down the river and in a few minutes they were off the colonel's landing. here, the boys would have taken their boat and rowed home, but the colonel insisted on carrying them down to creston, which was quickly done in the bracing breeze. "remember, as soon as you are ready," he said as he left them, "i will swear you in as scouts." chapter x looking for a clue "hello, jack," called rand, meeting the former on the street the following morning, hurrying along in his usual fashion, "what's the latest?" "about what?" asked jack in turn. "about everything. anything new about the robbing of judge taylor's office the other night?" "haven't heard much yet," replied jack. "i was just going around there to see if they had found out anything more." "looking for clues?" questioned rand. "not so much for clues as news," responded jack. "perhaps i can pick up some of both. you never can tell when they'll pop up. don't you want to go along?" "and see how you do it," laughed rand. "i don't mind if i do. written up yesterday's story yet?" "about your heroic rescue of a lovely maiden from the angry waves. of course; did it last night. want to see it? i was going to put a head on it: 'heroic rescue by a creston boy.'" "you don't mean it, jack blake!" "wait until you see it on the first page, double leaded, with a scarehead." "really and truly?" "really and truly." "please don't, jack." "why, don't you want it?" asked jack in mock surprise. "i thought you would be delighted to see your name in print." "you know i don't want to be made ridiculous!" "all right," responded jack, "i'll kill it if you say so, but it would have made a sensation." "i don't doubt that," laughed rand, "but i'd rather not be the victim. i wonder," he went on musingly, "if we will ever see them again." "who?" "the whildens." "hardly likely," replied jack. "if we do they will probably have forgotten us." "still i'd like to know how she came out." "oh, she came out all right," replied jack lightly. "a little cold water won't hurt her. you know, the doctor said she was out of danger. "it's a curious thing how they got in," he went on after a little pause, his thought turning on the robbery, which was uppermost in his mind just then. "i don't see anything curious about it," returned rand. "you don't!" cried jack. "maybe you can explain how they did it then." "i don't know as it needs any explaining," retorted rand. "they got in a trough of the waves, and--" "trough of the waves!" cried jack. "what are you talking about?" "why, about the whildens, of course. what are you talking about?" "oh, pshaw! i was talking about the burglars." "oh, i see," said rand. "how did they get in?" "that is what we would all like to know," replied jack. "there isn't anything to show how they got in or how they went out, unless they went out through the door and locked it after them." "that is possible, isn't it?" asked rand. "i suppose it is possible," admitted jack, "but i don't see how they managed it." "not if they had a key?" "it must have been that way," agreed jack, "but where did they get this key? that don't lessen the puzzle. it was a yale lock, and keys to them are not to be had easily, and they must have had one for the front door, too." "well, if they could get the one they could get the other," said rand. "i suppose so," agreed jack. "it probably wouldn't be much harder to get two than one." "why couldn't they get in through a window?" pursued rand. "the windows were all locked on the inside as well as the doors." "i see. they must have been professionals." "then i don't see what they wanted there." "why not?" "because they wouldn't get enough swag to make it worth while," answered jack, "swag?" questioned rand. "oh, that's slang for plunder," explained jack. "you seem to be pretty well up in their slang," commented rand. "oh, that's part of the newspaper business," was jack's response. by this time they had come to the building in which judge taylor had his office, which was on one of the main street corners of the town. a little description of the building is necessary here to make the situation clear. it was an old-fashioned, two-story brick structure, having been erected some years before. at the time of its erection there were no other buildings near it, and there were windows on all four sides. some time later another building had been put on the adjoining lot, leaving a space of a little more than a foot between the two, thus making the windows on that side practically useless. the wall of the other building upon that side was blank, and it was upon this space that the side windows of the judge's office opened. in the rear was a yard of the width of the building and about twenty feet deep, with a low fence upon the side next to the street. "let's take a look around before we go upstairs," proposed jack. "all right," responded rand. "i'm green at this business, you know." going in at the front door jack led the way into the hall, from which a broad flight of stairs ascended to the second story. by the side of the stairs was a narrow passage, through which jack continued to a small hallway in the rear, in which were two doors, one giving access to the cellar, the other opening on the yard in the rear. "do you think that they could have come in through the cellar?" asked rand, when they entered the back hall. "i had thought of that," replied jack, "but every one says that these doors were bolted, and i don't see how they could bolt the doors after they had gone out." "it does seem just a little difficult," admitted rand. going out in the yard, the boys examined the rear of the building. "they couldn't have got to the windows up there without a ladder," decided rand, after a study of the situation. "and you say the windows were fastened?" "that's what they say," responded jack, "and i don't believe burglars carry ladders around in their kits. besides there is an electric light right here, so that a ladder could be seen quite plainly from the street. "i wonder," he mused, looking into the space between the buildings, "if any one could get up through there." "not unless he could fly," returned rand. "there isn't room enough for a man to get in there, and he couldn't manage a ladder if he got in." "a boy might," remarked jack. "but this wasn't a boy's work," objected rand. "can't always tell," replied jack, "almost anything is possible." going back into the building, jack led the way up to judge taylor's office, where they found an officer in consultation with the judge. "good morning, judge," said jack as they entered. "we came in to see if there was anything new about the robbery." "good morning, boys," replied the judge. "looking for news, as usual, eh, jack? well, i am sorry to say there isn't any. we are just as much in the dark as ever. it is beyond my comprehension how any one could get in and out of this place and not leave any signs to show how they did it." "it beats me," chimed in the officer. "it was a good job, too. looks as if there were two or three in it, the way they handled the safe," pointing to the large, old-fashioned safe, good enough in its day, but not offering much resistance to modern tools, which was standing in the middle of the room. "they certainly made junk of it," remarked rand; "how did they do it?" "steel wedges," replied the officer. "it wasn't very much of a job for yeggmen, such as these must have been. they drove the wedges in alongside of the door and burst it open," "but didn't that make a good deal of noise?" "not if they used pieces of cloth to deaden the sound of the blows," explained the officer. "did they get very much?" asked rand. "not very much," replied the judge, "some papers and a few coins." "hello!" interjected jack, who had picked up a sheet of paper from the floor. "found something?" asked the judge; "what is it?" "what do you make of that?" asked jack, handing him the paper. "not very much," answered the judge, looking it over. "there seems to be a smudge of dirt on it, that is all." "nor i," chimed in the officer. "nothing there." "looks to me like finger marks," said rand. "that's it, exactly!" cried jack excitedly. "look at it this way!" "i see," said the judge, "some one has left the impression of a dusty hand." "it was a small hand, too," went on jack, "not much bigger than mine." "that seems right, too," assented the judge, "but what do you make of it?" "it was a boy or a small man who made it," continued jack. "that's logical," agreed the judge, "but--" "that may be," criticized the officer, "but i don't see that it leads anywhere." "one minute," returned jack, "his hand was dusty because he came in through a dusty way." "plato, thou reasoneth well," laughed the judge, "but we are still up against the original puzzle. what was that way?" "how long since these windows have been opened?" asked jack, going to one of the windows that looked on the wall of the next building. "not in years, i think," answered the judge. "why?" without replying jack opened one of the windows and looked out; then going to a second he did the same. "you don't think that they came in that way, do you?" questioned the officer. "what do you expect to find, jack?" asked rand. "there you are!" he cried triumphantly, when he came to the third window; "there is where they got in!" "how do you make that out?" demanded the judge. "see there!" replied jack, "this window sill is almost free of dust, while the others have half an inch or so on them. it was rubbed off of this one by some one climbing through; see, there is the print of a hand---" "by the shade of coke, i think you are right!" exclaimed the judge, "but how in the world could any one get up to this window?" "a boy might work his way up between the walls," answered jack. "lots of boys could do it." "i guess you have hit it," assented the officer. "then the boy opened the doors and the others walked in as easily as if they owned the place. a man with one eye could see it now." "and went out the same way," concluded the judge. "but why did they need to make such a mystery of it?" "wanted to give us something to think about, i guess," hazarded the officer. "perhaps they wanted to make it look like an inside job. looks as if there were two or three men and a boy mixed up in it. that's a due, anyway, and i will send word around the country to look out for them." "do you think that they came from around here?" asked rand. "don't think so. i don't think we have any one here smart enough to pull off a job like that. hello, what now?" as jack, acting upon a sudden thought, rushed from the room. "what is he after now?" "i don't know, i'm sure," answered rand. "just thought of something, i guess. he often does that when he has an idea strike him." "here he comes back," said the officer a moment later, when jack was heard bounding up the stairs. "i wonder what he has got now?" "found something more?" questioned the judge, when jack came into the room with a rush. "found these between the buildings," replied jack, showing a thin steel wedge and a small steel cold chisel. "it just happened to strike me that they might have forgotten something, so i took a look around and i found these." "some of the tools they used on the safe," said the officer, taking them. "nice bit of work they are. it wasn't any burglar who made them. now, if we could find where they were made we might get on the track of these fellows." "why, i saw one just like that in wilson's blacksmith shop the other day," observed rand. "wasn't just like it, was it?" asked the officer. "looks like the same one," replied rand, taking the chisel in his hand. "guess they wouldn't look so much alike if they were together," demurred the officer, though he noted it down with the thought, "that's clue worth following." "see if you can find anything else," suggested the judge, but a careful search about the office failed to reveal any more clues, and the boys finally went off to see, as jack expressed it, what they could pick up on the outside. "come in again, jack," said the judge when the boys were leaving, "always glad to see you. you have cleared up part of the mystery, anyhow. you are so much better a detective than we are," he added laughingly, "that i don't know but what we shall have to put the case in your hands." "oh, it wasn't anything, judge," responded jack, "just putting two and two together." chapter xi forming the patrol "don't you think," began pepper. "why not, pepper?" asked rand. "what objection is there to our thinking?" the four boys were, a couple of days later, on their way back to the town from the river, where they had been for an early morning swim. "none whatever," retorted pepper, "if you were capable of doing it." "now listen to that!" cried rand. "pepper thinks he's the only one that can think. if you have got any thinks in your think-tank open the valve and let some of them escape." "one at a time, pepper," added donald; "make it easy for us." "all through your interruptions?" asked pepper; "because, if you are, i'll elucidate." "ah, what's that?" cried rand, "you'll do what? how do you spell it?" "elucidate--explain--make dear," replied pepper. "do i make myself comprehensible?" "another one," groaned rand. "say, pepper, skip the hard ones, and tell us what's troubling you." "what i was going to say," went on pepper, "was, don't you think--now don't interrupt--that it would be a good idea to have gerald moore and dick wilson meet with us to have a talk about the scout business?" "seems as if it might be," admitted donald. "what made you think of having gerald join us, jack?" asked rand. "i suppose you had some good reason." "well, i hardly know," responded jack. "it just came into my head while the colonel was talking the other day. he's an all-around good fellow, you know, even if he does not have much money. full of fun, and you can depend upon him every time." "that's reason enough," agreed rand. "i don't know much about him, except that he was in our class at school, and i'm afraid i have had a little grudge against him." "what for?" cried pepper. "i guess it was because he made me work so hard to keep up with him in the class," responded rand laughingly. "it was all i could do, too." "dick's a jolly good fellow, too," put in pepper. "for he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow," sang jack, whereupon they ail joined in the refrain. "said anything to them about it?" asked don, when they had sung it over and over until they were tired. "well, hardly," replied jack, "considering it was only the day before yesterday that we thought of it, though i suppose if we are going to do anything it is time we were getting about it." "ah reckon dat am so," drawled rand, then changing his tone he went on: "what do you say to having a meeting to-night and talking it over? we can have gerald and dick come and make a start if we like." "that's the way, rand," approved pepper, "if you are going to do things, do them!" "i see no objection," concluded donald. "of course you don't," returned pepper. "do you know why?" "why, pepper?" asked donald. "because there isn't any," retorted pepper. "where will we meet?" asked jack. "i will ask uncle floyd if we can have the room in the attic for a club room," went on rand. "i know he will be interested in what we are doing." "then we are all fixed," cried jack. "what shall we call it?" asked pepper. "call the room?" "of course not," returned pepper; "i mean the patrol." "better wait until it is started," advised donald, "it's no sure yet." "all right, solomon," conceded pepper, "but if randolph says so it's as good as done." "then we will consider that settled," concluded rand, who, as a matter of course, assumed the leadership, as he usually did in most things the boys undertook. "wait a minute," he went on as they were about to separate when they came to his house, "i will ask uncle now." then a few minutes later he called from the house: "it's all right, uncle says that we can have it." "hurrah!" cried pepper. "three cheers for mr. scott!" after which the three went off, singing "for he's a jolly good fellow." "what is the first thing to do?" asked pepper when they met that evening in the room which mr. scott had allowed them to use. "well, if we are all agreed," replied rand, "i suppose the way to organize is to organize." "then i move that we form a patrol of the boy scouts," proposed pepper. "second the motion," added jack. "in my opinion--" began donald deliberately, as usual. "now for a solid chunk of wisdom," volunteered pepper. "the first thing to do is to select a chairman." "anything to please," assented jack. "i move that randolph peyton be chosen as chairman of the meeting. all in favor, say aye!" "aye!" shouted the boys in a chorus that made the room ring again. "now then, mr. chairman," said jack, "get busy." "i nominate donald graeme for secretary," cried pepper. "all in favor--" began rand. "aye!" shouted the boys again. "then," announced rand, "i think we are ready for business. now, pepper, your motion would be in order." "in my opinion--" interrupted donald. "now for another chunk," sighed pepper. "order!" called rand. "it would no be a bad idea," went on donald, "to read over the requirements again, so we will know what we are about." "oh," protested pepper, "this is too much. say, fellows, wake me up when he gets through." "now," said rand, when donald had finished the reading, "shall we go ahead?" "how is it, don?" asked pepper; "any more objections?" "i don't see any," returned donald. "all right, then, mr. chairman," cried pepper; "let her go!" "i move that we form a patrol of the boy scouts," said jack. "second it," cried gerald. "aye!" shouted the boys before rand had time to put the motion. "carried," decided rand. "now," he went on, "i wonder how many of you can pass the examination." chapter xii organized "oh," returned pepper, "that's easy. first class in scout lore, stand up!" "is it?" asked rand, "then tell us the composition of the american flag." "red, white and blue," said pepper confidently. "good--as far as it goes," returned rand, "but that applies just as well to the french tricolor. what do you say, jack?" "stars and stripes," replied jack. "good," said rand, "but not good enough. what do you say, gerald?" "forty-six stars representing the forty-six states of the union, in a blue field in the upper right-hand corner," replied gerald, "with thirteen alternate stripes of red and white, representing the thirteen original states." "correct," commended rand. "now, how many red and how many white stripes?" "blessed if i know," admitted pepper. "i thought you said it was easy," said rand. "there are seven red and six white, beginning and ending with red." "gee!" cried pepper, "there's a lot more to it than i thought, but i guess we have got it now, all right." "now about the knots," went on rand, whereupon they fell to tying the different knots until they had mastered them all before it was time to go home. "well, young gentlemen," began the colonel, a few days later, when the six boys met at his house in the woods to be sworn in as tenderfeet, "i suppose you know the requirements and that you are ail ready?" "all ready!" responded pepper. "know the scout law and are willing to obey it." "yes, sir." "the composition of the american flag." "i think we do," responded pepper, repeating what he had learned the other night. "and know how to fly it?" "union up," replied jack. "what does it mean with the union down?" "signal of distress." "very good," commended the colonel, "and now about the knots?" producing some pieces of rope. "can you tie them?" "like an old salt," replied pepper. the boys set to work on the knots and in a few minutes had them all tied, to the colonel's satisfaction, whereupon he proceeded to administer the scout's oath. "raise your right hands, with the thumb resting on the nail of the little finger, the other three fingers pointing upward. this represents the three promises of the oath. now, repeat after me: on my honor i promise that i will do my best: " . to do my duty to god and my country. " . to help other people at all times. " . to obey the scout law. "you all promise this--" "we do," responded the boys. "then," concluded the colonel, "you are now members of the boy scouts, and i know you will be an honor to it." "we will do our best," responded rand. "and now," continued the colonel, "in celebration of the organization of--by the way, you haven't chosen a name yet, have you? what kind of a name do you want?" "oh, i s-s-say," stammered pepper. "sing it, pepper," suggested donald. "l-let's have an indian name." "want to indulge your savage instincts and live in a wigwam?" asked rand. "it's a tepee, not a wigwam," corrected pepper. "but we can go hunting and have a good time in the woods." "all right, pepper," agreed gerald, "an indian name is good enough for me." "have you any name in mind?" asked the colonel. "the oneidas used to roam about here, didn't they?" asked jack. "no," replied the colonel, "they were farther north." "what indians were in this section?" asked rand. "the haverstraws held all the land about here," replied the colonel. "we want something more original than that," said jack. "something aboriginal," put in gerald. "i guess that's it," laughed jack. "how about mohicans?" "i have it!" cried pepper. "what's the matter with uncas?" "who were they?" asked dick. "it wasn't they," replied pepper, "it was him. don't you remember he was the last of the mohicans." "that's a very good name," commended the colonel. "then uncas it is," agreed the boys. "now that you have agreed upon a name," continued the colonel, "what do you say to having a real scout dinner in the woods?" "that s-strikes me favorably," exclaimed pepper. "then if you will make a fire i will go on a hunting expedition and see what game i can secure," said the colonel. "better get to work, boys, for i won't be long. you will find some meal and salt in the shack, rand, to make some bread." "all right," responded the boys, "we will have everything ready when you get back." the boys fell to work at once, jack and don gathering the wood for the fire, while rand and pepper mixed the dough for the bread, dick and gerald agreeing to do the cleaning up afterwards. by the time the colonel came back the fire was blazing and the bread baking on some stones, which were set up in front of the fire. "how did you make out?" asked pepper of the colonel when he returned. "pretty well," replied the colonel; "i got a saddle of venison and a couple of prairie chickens." "really?" asked pepper, his eyes snapping. "well, we'll call them that," replied the colonel. under the colonel's direction the chickens and the saddle of mutton were suspended over the fire and kept slowly turning until they were thoroughly roasted. "done to a turn," as gerald expressed it. "better put out a sentinel, hadn't you?" suggested the colonel when they had all gathered about the fire to watch the cooking of the dinner. "a sentinel!" exclaimed rand. "what for?" "well, we don't want our dinner carried off before our eyes," replied the colonel. "are you sure that your agile enemy isn't watching us from somewhere and just waiting for it to be done to his taste before making a raid on us?" "monkey rae!" cried pepper, starting up. "you haven't seen anything of him, have you?" "no," replied the colonel; "but, still it's well to be on the lookout for him. he's rather a tricky sort of a chap, i believe." "he certainly is," admitted rand, "but it's mostly fun with him; but sam tompkins, he's quite a different sort." "what is the matter with him?" asked the colonel. "i don't know," drawled rand, "except he was just born that way. i think he is bad just from love of it." "isn't that rather a sweeping condemnation, randolph?" asked the colonel. "oh, he's the worst of the bunch," put in pepper decidedly. "that's all true," added jack. "there hasn't been any mischief perpetrated in town for the last four or five years that he hasn't been at the bottom of it." "he puts the other boys up to do all kinds of things and keeps in the dark himself," continued pepper. "he would have been put away long ago," went on jack, "if it wasn't for his father's political pull." "where did you learn all these things, jack?" asked the colonel. "oh, we find out a good many things in the newspaper business, you know." "so it seems," admitted the colonel. "what has master tompkins been doing lately?" "that's hard to tell," replied jack laughingly, "he does so many things. i hear he is going to get up an opposition patrol." "who would he get to join it?" asked gerald, scornfully. "oh, he can find plenty to do that," replied jack. "you know he always has plenty of money to spend." "there's monkey rae and looney burns," said pepper, "they would be in it." "and kid murphy," added dick. "i wonder--" began jack, and stopped, seemingly lost in thought. "what is it now, jack?" asked rand, "trying to put two and two together?" "i was," replied jack, "but it don't seem to come out four." "what is it this time, addition or multiplication?" asked donald. "must be division, i think," laughed jack. "i was wondering if sam had anything to do with the robbery of judge taylor's office." "of course not," asserted pepper. "what would he want to do that for?" "i don't know," answered jack, "or what any one else would, for that matter. but it would be just like him." "i don't think he was guilty of that," remarked the colonel, "that was the work of men." "but there was a boy in it," asserted jack. "it wouldn't be sam," declared pepper. "he might put others up to it, but you wouldn't find him climbing in any windows!" "see anything of monkey lately?" interjected rand. "not since the day he stole the fish," returned pepper. "haven't seen him in three or four days," said dick. "it's queer, too, for he used to come in the shop almost every day. nor sam either; they must be camping out somewhere." "hope it isn't around here!" cried pepper. "say, fellows, we had better take a scout through the woods and make sure." "come along, then," said rand, "and we will rout him out if he is anywhere about." starting out under the leadership of rand the boys explored the woods in every direction for some distance from the camp without seeing any signs of any one being in the neighborhood. "going back to the flag," said the colonel, when the boys had returned, "while we are waiting for the dinner to be done, can any of you tell the history of the flag? of its origin and how it came into being?" "the first american flag was made in philadelphia by betsy ross, in , was it not?" "according to tradition," replied the colonel, "but history doesn't bear it out. the earliest flag to be used by the colonies was the liberty flag, which was presented to the council of safety of charleston, by colonel moultrie, in september, ." "what was it like?" asked rand. "it was adapted from the boston liberty tree, and was a blue flag with crescent in the dexter corner and the word 'liberty' running lengthwise." "there were other flags, too, weren't there?" asked jack. "yes, there was the rattlesnake flag." "the rattlesnake flag!" cried pepper. "what was that like?" "the rattlesnake flag was of the same date, . it was a yellow flag with the representation of a rattlesnake coiled, ready to strike, in green, and the motto below it: 'don't tread on me.'" "gee!" said pepper, "it must have been a beauty." "were there any more?" asked gerald. "there was the pine tree flag, with the motto 'an appeal to heaven.' this motto was adopted april, , by the provincial congress of massachusetts as the one to be borne as the flag of the cruisers of that colony. the first armed vessel commissioned under washington sailed under this flag. it is thought that this flag was used at the battle of bunker hill." "i didn't know," said rand, "that the american flag had such a history. can you tell us when the first union flag was made?" "the first union flag was raised by washington at cambridge, january , . this flag represented the union of the colonies--not then an established nation--and while this flag, by its stripes, represented the thirteen colonies, the canton was the king's colors." "then, when did the stars and stripes become the national flag?" asked jack. "on the th of june, , congress adopted the resolution that the flag of the thirteen united states be thirteen stripes alternating red and white, and that the union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new constellation. but i think the dinner must be ready by this time, and i have no doubt you are. you know the scout motto is, 'be prepared.'" "we will do our best," responded pepper. "well," said the colonel when, a little later, the dinner had been eaten to the last scrap, "how do you like scout fare?" "it's ail right," conceded pepper, "as far as it goes," looking longingly about him. "you think there wasn't enough of it," laughed the colonel. "you have a real scout appetite." "to change the subject, what about uniforms?" inquired jack. "we will have to have them, i suppose," replied gerald. "sure," returned pepper; "that's all right, they won't cost much." "i have an idea," broke in rand. "clutch it, randolph, ere it flies!" cried pepper; "what is it?" "i think," went on rand, "that it would be a good idea if we, each one of us, earned the money ourselves to buy our uniforms." "'tis no a bad idea," assented donald. "i think it is a very good one," commended the colonel. "you have caught the spirit of the organization." "how shall we do it?" asked jack. "any way you like," replied rand. "we will have to work it out, each one for himself." "all right," responded pepper, "i am going to get busy right away." "right now, pepper?" asked dick. "now, that don't remind you of anything," warned pepper. "not just this minute, but as soon as i get back to town." "what's your scheme, pepper?" asked donald. "can't give it away," replied pepper, "or you would all want to do it." "i think," broke in the colonel, "it is time we were starting back. if you like, we will have a game on the way." "a game?" asked jack. "yes; a chase." "hare and hounds?" asked pepper. "in a way," replied the colonel. "gerald, you and pepper will be the hares and the rest of us the hounds." "do you mean to scatter papers?" asked rand. "hardly," replied the colonel. "nothing as plain as that. remember, we are scouts, and we are going to try and follow the trail they leave. now, then, hares, off with you. go any way you choose, and in ten minutes we will take up the trail and see if we can follow it." with a whoop gerald and pepper were off, racing down the road. "now, boys," went on the colonel, when the hares had gone, "study their foot-prints so that you will know them again." "they all look alike to me," replied rand. "study them a little," suggested the colonel; "isn't there any difference between them?" "i think," began jack hesitatingly, "that one is broader than the other." "that's one thing; anything else?" "this one shows the whole of the sole," said donald. "and this one only part," added rand. "this one is pressed in deeper on one side than the other," put in jack. "you are getting the idea," said the colonel. "think you would know them again?" "i think i would," responded jack. "then follow them." starting off, the boys followed the trail, each one alert to notice any little peculiarity in the foot-prints that would enable them to recognize it again. the trail was readily followed along the road until it turned off into the woods, when they lost it. "keep on," directed the colonel, "perhaps you can pick it up again." scattering through the woods the boys diligently sought for the foot-prints, but were unable to discover them. "we have lost them," announced rand, after they had searched for some time. "can you help us to find it?" "it is a little difficult," the colonel answered, "but there is a trace here and there," pointing out slight indentations on the ground. "it is quite hard here and they didn't leave much impression." "here it is again!" cried rand a little later, when they came to a spot of soft earth. "here is pepper's track. i think i would know it anywhere now." "good!" commended the colonel; "you are learning fast. you will be able soon to follow any trail." going under the colonel's guidance the boys followed the trail through the woods until it came out again on the road, where gerald and pepper were waiting for them. "not at all bad for a first attempt," said the colonel. "we will try it again some day soon." which happened sooner and in a more unexpected way than any of them anticipated. chapter xiii a challenge "well done, pepper!" cried rand, as the former, drawing back a stout bow nearly as tall as himself, let fly an arrow that struck in the third circle of the target set up at the opposite end of the green. "'tis a promising laddie ye are," commented gerald moore after a preliminary flourish of his bugle. "ave ye live to be a hundhred and don't lave aff practice 'tis a foine shot ye'll be, i dunno." "let's see what you can do," retorted pepper, with a laugh. "i don't believe you can better it." "begorrah, oi don't belave it mesilf," replied gerald, shooting an arrow that struck just on the outer edge of the target. "faith, 'twas a narrow escape oi made, and it's toime oi was making another," starting off on a run as the others made for him. "that reminds me," broke in dick wilson. "it's your turn, dick," interrupted rand, as dick, stepping in front of the target, after much careful aiming, shot his arrow close beside pepper's. "shure oi wouldn't have belaved av oi hadn't seen it," remarked gerald, who had cautiously ventured back. this was some days later than the events recorded in the previous chapters, since which time, rand had been selected as leader and don as corporal, while gerald, from his fun-loving proclivities, had been named the "patrol's jester." the mystery surrounding the robbery had not been cleared up, and was a frequent subject for conversation. monkey rae had not been seen about. they had met upon this occasion for archery practice on the lawn in front of mr. scott's residence, where rand was living. immediately upon the formation of the patrol mr. scott, who was one of the patrons of the scout organization, had presented each member with a fine english bow and quiver of arrows, in the proper method of using which they were being instructed by colonel snow. they were all dressed in the scout uniform, which they wore when on scout duty or out on an expedition, and were not a little proud of the fact that each one had bought his uniform with money earned by himself, the first money that some of them had ever earned. this the boys had done in various ways, each according to his own fancy, such as going errands, selling papers, working in stores and shops, etc. they were also provided with small bugle horns, upon which they had learned to sound various signals and calls. "now, rand," said donald, "show us how to do it." "if i can," answered rand, taking position in front of the target. "as good hubert said: 'a man can but do his best.'" drawing back his bow to the full length of the arrow, with a quick glance at the target, he let fly the arrow, which whistled through the air and struck fair on the outer edge of the bull's-eye. "a rare good shot, master locksley," said a laughing voice, and rand turned to meet a frank-faced lad of his own age in the scout uniform, who wore a first class scout's badge, and who gave the scout salute as he stepped forward. "cans't thou mend it, brave yeoman," replied rand in the language of robin hood's day, in which the other had spoken, returning the salute. "i doubt it much," returned the newcomer, taking the bow which rand had offered and stretching it the length of his arm. "a good bow and worthy of your skill. with your permission i will essay a shot." "rather we crave the favor," answered rand, extending his quiver to the stranger, who carefully selecting an arrow, fitted it to the bow. then drawing the bow back the full length of the arrow he measured the distance with his eye, and, loosing the string, the arrow sped straight to the center of the bull's-eye. with one accord the boys put their bugles to their lips and sounded the scout salute. "by my faith," cried rand, in generous admiration of the other's skill, "'twas a noble shot and well placed. you might be the bold robin himself returned." "it was but a chance shot that i might not be able to repeat," returned the other modestly. "but i was a member of an archery club in our place and that brings me to my errand here. you are randolph peyton, leader of the uncas patrol, if i am not mistaken. i was told in the town that i would find you here." "that is my name," replied rand. "my name is wat watson," announced the other with a smile. "it is an alterative sort of a name, but all i have. i have here," presenting a paper to rand, "a challenge from the highpoint patrol." "a challenge!" exclaimed rand. "not for an archery contest, i hope, or we are beaten before we begin. master watson, permit me to present don graeme, jack blake and his brother, pepper, dick wilson, and last, but not least in his own estimation, gerald moore." "i am heartily glad to meet you all," said wat, shaking hands all around, "and hope i may often have the pleasure." "the same to you," responded the boys. "and may you live to be a hundred," added gerald, "and may oi be wid ye." the paper which nat had brought and which rand had opened, ran: "to the uncas patrol, greeting: "the highpoint patrol, of the boy scouts, hereby challenges the uncas patrol to a contest for the scout championship of the hudson, to be rowed by crews selected from said patrols, at such time and place as may be hereafter agreed upon. "highpoint patrol. jack dudley, leader. tom brown, corporal." "well, boys, what do you say?" asked rand, when he had finished reading the challenge. "after the prowess exhibited by their messenger, do you think we dare accept?" whereupon there arose a babble of voices in which all sorts of opinions were expressed. "shure they can't bate us more than three miles," concluded gerald. "then i suppose we may accept," said rand. "shall i so report?" asked wat. "you can report that the challenge has been received and that we will send our answer by messenger." "thank you," replied wat, "and now i must be off. be sure and come and see us; we will try and treat you right." "there can't be any doubt of that," replied rand. "but, just a moment," as mrs. peyton appeared on the green with a tray of cakes. she was followed by a maid with a pail of lemonade. "isn't it time for a feast and a war dance or something?" she asked. "we have just been having a pow-wow," replied rand, "and our throats are dry with much talking. we have just concluded a treaty with the tribe of highpoint and are ready for the feast of amity." wat would have declined to join in the festivities, but the boys were importunate, and the next half-hour was spent in an interchange of talk, in which the words: scouts, patrol, tests, boats, were of frequent occurrence, and during which the cake and lemonade vanished as quickly as snowflakes in july, after which the uncas escorted the messenger for a distance on his way, finally bidding him good-by with three cheers and a flourish on their bugles. chapter xiv a defiance "well," began rand on the evening of the day on which the challenge had been received from the highpoint patrol, "what shall we do with this challenge?" "accept it, av coorse," cried gerald. "shure, they can't bate us more thin foor miles." "but we only row three," put in jack. "thin it's a safe bet," went on gerald, "aven don might bet on that." "what's that?" asked donald. "that they won't bate us more than foor miles," replied gerald. "in my opinion," began donald, "'tis no good accepting, for we have no boat, and if we did we have no time for practice, and---" "can't you think of a few more while you are at it," laughed rand. "as for a boat we can get the use of the old shell of the creston club." "and we no have any crew to speak of," continued donald. "that's easily got over," went on rand. "there is jack, dick and you and i for the crew, with gerald for coxswain." "and where do i come in?" questioned pepper. "you don't come in," answered gerald. "you stand on the bank and root for us." "root!" cried pepper; "what do you think i am--a pig?" "that reminds me--" broke in dick. "no it don't," objected donald; "we have no time to listen to your anecdotes." "do you think we have any chance against them?" asked jack. "i would no say we had no chance," replied donald; "but, in my opinion, 'tis no much to brag about." "that reminds me--" began dick once more. "what, against?" said donald. "oh, let him get it off his mind," advised jack. "what does it remind you of?" "it reminds me of the hunter that came over here from new york last fall and met old uncle zac williams back in the country and asked him if there was any hunting around here. "'plenty of it," said uncle zac. "'where is the best place to go?' asked the hunter. "'oh, mos' anywhere,' said uncle zac; 'yo' can't miss hit.' "so the hunter went on, and that night as he was going home he met uncle zac again. "'hello!' he said, 'ain't you the man that told me there was plenty of hunting around here?' "'i reckon i be,' replied uncle zac. "'well, i've hunted all around here and i haven't seen the first thing to shoot.' "'waal, ther wasn't nothin' ther matter with ther huntin' was ther?' said uncle zac." "all right," said donald, when dick had finished, "we'll forgive you this time, but don't let it happen again." the boys were in their club room in the attic of mr. scott's house, which had been given over to rand's use. by one of the windows was the instruments of a wireless station with which rand and his chums had experimented, and scattered about the room were golf clubs, baseball bats and other implements and apparatus of boyish sports. "it isn't a question of winning or losing," went on rand. "there would not be any sport in it if we only went in when we thought we would win. we will do our best and if we lose we will cheer our loudest for the winners." "that's the talk!" cried jack. "we may not win success, but we'll deserve it." "then," continued rand, "we agree to accept the challenge of the highpoints. how's this for a reply?" "to the highpoint patrol, greeting: "the uncas patrol accepts with pieasure your courteous challenge to a contest on the hudson. time and place to be agreed upon." "in my opinion," said donald, "you should say 'rowing match' as being more specific." "all right," replied rand. "are there any further additions or amendments? if not, i will declare it approved as read." "now, who will volunteer to carry it to highpoint?" "i will!" cried dick. "i will make the attempt," announced donald. "lave it to me," said gerald. "i'll take it," responded jack. "i ought to be the one," pleaded pepper. "you know i am not in the race." "you can't all go," decided rand; "how shall we settle it?" "take a vote on it," suggested jack. "we will each one write a name on a slip of paper and put it in the box," proposed pepper. for a moment each boy was busy with paper and pencil and then the ballots were thrown upon the table to be counted by rand. "each one of you has received one vote; you each voted for yourself," announced rand, when he had gone over them. "you will have to draw lots." "let's toss up for it," said donald. "toss up your lucky penny, rand." "how can you manage that?" asked jack, "there are five of us and only one penny." "that's easily fixed," replied donald, "jack and i will toss first and the winner takes the next one." "very well," agreed rand, "what do you say, jack?" giving the coin a toss in the air. "head!" said jack. "tail it is," returned rand, as he picked it up. "now, gerald, it is your choice." "head," replied gerald. "tail again," said rand. "faith, thot's the toime tail came out a head," commented gerald. "now, dick." "head," replied dick. "tail again," announced rand. "luck is with you, donald. there is only pepper left now." "only pepper!" exclaimed that individual indignantly. "what is the matter with me?" "notin' at ail, me darlint," broke in gerald; "shure, your the biggest banana in the bunch, av people only knew it." "well, pepper?" said rand. "heads." "head it is," announced rand. "you're it, pepper." "begorrah, 'tis a long tail that has no head," commented gerald. "master pepper blake," began rand, "has been chosen to carry our message of defiance to the tribe of the highpoints." "when do i go?" "at the rise of the sun to-morrow," replied rand, "you must be prepared to take the trail." "before breakfast?" "we will not require that sacrifice of you," said rand. "here is the message. fail not on your honor to deliver it. you are going through a hostile country beset with enemies--" "monkey rae's," murmured gerald. "and the message must be delivered under all circumstances. it contains information of the utmost importance, which must not be allowed to fall into the enemies's hands. i will meet you to-morrow at the great oak to give you your final instructions." "very well, sir," replied pepper, "i will not fail to carry out your commands to the letter." "bravo, boys, well done!" commended mr. scott, who had been standing in the doorway, unseen by the boys, enjoying the fun. "if i was only a little younger, there is nothing i would like better than to be an indian brave with you." for a moment the boys were silent in the presence of the bank president, whom they all regarded with more or less awe, until gerald broke the silence. "shure, 'tis niver too late to have fun, mister scott," he said. "we'd be plased to have ye for one of us. we'll make ye prisident an' ye'll find it a hape more fun than bein' the prisident av the bank." "i don't doubt it," replied mr. scott laughingly, "but i'm afraid i am almost too old to keep up the pace you set. but i'll tell you what i am going to do. i am going on an outing some of these days and i am going to invite you all to go along with me." "hurrah!" cried the boys with a will. "ready uncas!" called don, raising his bugle, "the scout salute!" as the room rang with the noise mr. scott clapped his hands to his ears. "thanks," he said; "mrs. scott sent me up here to see if there was anything the matter, you were so quiet, but after that i think she will conclude that you are all right." "what is that you have there, rand?" he added as he caught sight of the coin that rand had been using to toss up. "where did you get it?" "those are the ones that we found in the road," replied rand. "do you know what they are?" "yes," answered mr. scott; "they are a political token issued in the time of van buren during the controversy over the currency. by the way, i shouldn't be surprised if these were some of the coins that were stolen out of judge taylor's office when it was broken into." "then the robbers must have gone away over that road," mused rand, "and that is how they got there." "that was doubtless the way of it," concluded jack. "ay, but you thought there was some connection with them and monkey rae," reminded donald. "are you sure there isn't?" answered jack. chapter xv pepper takes the message when rand arrived at the great oak, which stood at the fork of the road on the outskirts of creston, on the following morning, he found pepper impatiently awaiting his arrival. "i thought you were never coming," grumbled pepper, when rand made his appearance. "i expected to be half way there by this time." "plenty of time," said rand. "how long do you think it will take you to get there and back?" "how far is it?" "five miles, as the crow flies," returned rand, "and near six by the road." "that's an hour and a half on the road each way and an hour to stop. i ought to do it in four hours and a half." "then you should be back by dinner time," concluded rand. "we will meet you here at o'clock. which road are you going to take?" "the upper road," decided pepper, "it runs through the woods, but it's by far the shortest way." with a whistle the boy started off along the thoroughfare at a good pace. "look for me at sharp," he called back as he went off. he had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile on his way when, as he was passing a small clump of bushes by the side of the road, there was a rustle behind the bushes, and a voice cried: "halt!" pepper, however, broke into a run which carried him past the clump, when again came the command: "halt, or i'll shoot!" the boy hesitated for a moment as to whether he should stop or run, and as he did so gerald and jack came out upon the scene. "did we scare you?" asked gerald. "no," replied pepper stoutly, "i thought it was a joke." "we just wanted to test your courage," said jack. "that reminds me--" began dick, who had now joined the others. "that it is time for me to be getting along," broke in pepper. "good-by, fellows," starting off again. "good luck," called the boys after him. the road which he was following ran through the woods along the top of the mountain and was comparatively little traveled, most persons preferring the lower road which, although longer, was not near so rough or hilly. pepper met but few people on the way, and had gone rather more than half the distance when, as he was descending the slope of a small hill, he observed coming down the opposite slope a horse and wagon, about which there was something familiar. "that looks like the rig that monkey rae was driving the other day," he thought, as he looked at it again. "if he is in it, i think i had better do the disappearance act until he goes by." stepping from the road he waited behind a small thicket until the wagon came nearer, when he saw that it was being driven by the man who had been with monkey when they had taken the boat, and that, following the wagon was a big, ugly-looking, mongrel dog, that was dashing from one side of the road to the other, interspersed with little excursions into the woods. "gee!" thought pepper, "i wouldn't want to fall into their hands. i think it's to the woods for mine," at the same time making his way as quickly as possible deeper into the underbrush. "i didn't get out of the way any too soon," he continued to himself, for on coming to the place where pepper had left the road the dog stopped, sniffed at the ground and gave vent to a gruff bark. "what is it, tige, old boy?" called the man, stopping his horse. "sic 'em!" with a deep growl the dog started on the boy's trail. pepper could hear him crashing his way through the underbrush and ran as fast as he could, looking about him, as he ran, for a stick or a stone with which to defend himself, but could see none, and all the time the dog was coming closer and closer, his growl becoming more and more menacing. it was nearly upon him, and he imagined that he could feel its hot breath and expected every moment to feel the snap of its jaws, when he saw, a little way ahead of him, what looked like a stout black stick lying upon the ground. "gee! that's lucky," thought pepper, running to where the stick lay and, stooping to pick it up when, to his astonishment and terror, the supposed stick glided from under his hand and he saw that he had been about to grasp a large-sized snake. springing to his feet he made a wild jump upward and, as luck would have it, caught at the branch of a tree above his head, and, getting a firm grasp, drew himself up just as the dog, with its teeth snapping, sprang at him. "crickets!" said the boy to himself, "but that was a close shave," meantime climbing up into the tree to a more comfortable perch. "i don't know which of them i like the least. it looks as though there was going to be something doing now." so intent had been the dog in its pursuit of pepper that he did not see the snake until he had run onto it as it lay coiled upon the ground when, with a cry of alarm, the dog bounded into the air, clearing the snake by half a dozen feet. apparently forgetting the quarry which it had been so eagerly pursuing, the dog now turned its attention to the snake, which was the largest that pepper had ever seen. for a few moments pepper was too fascinated to move, as he watched the strangest combat that he had ever seen going on beneath him. a combat in which neither of the combatants seemed desirous of assuming the aggressive. lying in a close coil, with its head rising from the center, its forked tongue darting in and out, and emitting every now and then an angry hiss, the snake, swaying its head from side to side, closely followed in its movements those of the dog, which circled about it barking furiously, and apparently watching for an opportunity to seize it back of the head, but which the snake was too wary to permit. [illustration: "the strangest combat that he had ever seen."] "this beats the circus," thought pepper, after he had watched the fight for a little time, "but this isn't getting the message to highpoint. i don't believe i have time to wait for the finale. i wonder how i am going to get out of this. if i drop down there they will be making a show of me. looks as though i might get over into that next tree. i'll try it, anyhow." the trees here had grown so close together that many of the branches were in-lacing, and it seemed possible to pepper that he could get from the one tree into the other. "it looks kind of thin," thought pepper, when he had picked out a limb which extended into the adjoining tree, "but, perhaps, it will do." crawling out upon the branch until it bent and swayed dangerously under his weight, he caught a branch of the other tree and swung himself over, narrowly missing a fall. "so far, so good," soliloquized pepper, working his way toward the trunk. "i rather like this way of going. now for the next one." the next tree was a little farther away, but by climbing out on a bough that extended into the other tree he crept on until he could just touch one of the opposite branches, but could not get a hold. "looks as if i would have to go back," he decided, after he had tried and failed to get a hold on the other tree. but this, he found, was more easily said than done, for when he attempted to turn around he slipped and only his quick clutch of the swaying branch saved him from a tumble. "this is a nice scrape i have got into," he thought, when he tried to climb back onto the limb from which he had slipped, but found it impossible. "i can't get back, and i don't see how i am to go on. i hope it will let me down easy." chapter xvi where was pepper? "two o'clock," said rand, closing his watch with a snap. "an hour behind time." the boys had been waiting at the great oak since just after noon, but pepper had not yet come. "perhaps he got off the road and got lost in the woods," suggested jack. "maybe he got back sooner than he expected by some other road and went home," said gerald. "shall i run over and see?" "go ahead," replied rand. "we will wait for you here." darting off, gerald was gone but a few minutes, returning on the run to report that pepper had not been back since morning. "perhaps he has got hurt somehow," put in dick. "it is no way impossible," assented donald. "it might no be a bad idea to walk along the road until we meet him." "which way did he go?" asked jack. "the upper road," replied rand. the boys acted upon the suggested and proceeded along the road, slowly at first, then more rapidly as their comrade did not appear. they had covered more than half the distance to highpoint. "listen!" said jack suddenly, as they stopped for a moment. "what is that?" faint and far in the distance sounded what seemed like a bugle call. "it is a bugle call," cried dick. "it must be pepper." "it may be possible," admitted donald. putting his bugle to his lips rand blew a long, clear call, but it brought no response. "which way did the sound come from?" asked gerald. "from over that way," replied dick, indicating with his hand. "what would he be doing away off there?" demanded donald. "there is it again," said gerald, as the sound was repeated. "it is over this way," declared jack, designating another direction. "no, it's over this way," asserted dick, but still at variance with the others. "wait," said rand, "maybe we can hear it again." the boys stood silent for a few moments, when the call came faintly once again. "it is over this way," declared rand, leading the way to the right, but, although they stopped from time to time to listen, they did not hear the sound again, nor did they find any trace of their missing comrade. for a half hour or more they continued their search, but in vain, and they were returning to the road when they heard the call again, but so faintly that it was lost almost as soon as heard. "he is going away," decided rand. "there is certainly something queer about it." "in my opinion," began donald, "'tis no use looking any more." "why not?" asked rand. "because it was no mortal sound," replied donald. "nonsense!" exclaimed rand. "nonsense or no," retorted donald stoutly, "i don't like it." "what is it, then, donald, if it isn't mortal?" asked rand. "i can no rightly say," responded donald, "but i don't believe you will ever find him." "pooh!" returned rand; "he may be along any minute." "let us go on to highpoint," proposed jack, "and see if he has been there." as nothing better was suggested the boys set out for highpoint, which they soon reached, and a short hunt enabled them to find jack dudley, the leader of the highpoint patrol, from whom they learned that pepper had not been there. "what time did he start?" asked dudley. "eight o'clock," replied rand. "it's very strange," said dudley. "he may have met with some accident. i will hunt up our patrol and will help you search for him. if you will go back and start from the point where you searched before we will take up the scout from here and keep on until we find him, or we join forces again, unless you have something better to propose." "i don't think there is any better way," said rand, with which the others agreed, and thanking him for his offer, the uncas boys, now thoroughly alarmed, set out again upon the search. it was o'clock when they got back to creston, searching on the way, and pepper had not returned, or trace of him found. "what shall we do next?" asked jack, as they stood undecided in the road. "what is it now?" asked colonel snow, who had come up unperceived. "we can't find pepper," answered the boys. "what is it," went on the colonel, "a game of hide and seek?" "no, sir," responded rand; "he went over to highpoint this morning with a message; i mean he started for highpoint, but he hasn't been there and he hasn't come back. we are afraid he is lost." "lost!" exclaimed the colonel. "how could that be." "we don't know," answered jack; "but we have hunted all over for him, and he isn't anywhere about." "all over?" said the colonel. "he couldn't very well be all over at once, could he? but, come along, and we will see if we can't find him. which way did he go?" "on the upper road," answered rand; "but we have been all along that." "well, we'll see if we can't pick up his trail," went on the colonel at once, leading off at a rapid pace. "did any of you pick it up?" "there are lots of tracks," replied rand, "but i did not pick his out." "some who are expert, you know, can read tracks as readily as you read the paper. these look much alike, but we will follow them up and see if any diverge or break away from the road." walking rapidly along the road the colonel indicated one he thought might be pepper's track, which the boys followed, with some success, after it had been pointed out until, all at once, the marks indicated that the person had come to a sudden stop and had turned aside. "he left the road here for some reason," decided the colonel, "or the one who made the trail did. he went through here, you can see how these bushes have been thrust aside." "i do now," replied rand, "but i wouldn't have noticed it myself." "did he have a dog with him?" continued the colonel, following the trail through the woods. "no," answered rand. "probably the dog came from the other direction. looks as if pepper was trying to get away from the dog. they were both in a hurry. it stops here; he must have taken to a tree." "pepper!" he shouted, "where are you?" but neither his calls nor those of the boys brought any response. "he isn't here," went on the colonel; "but there has been a disturbance of some kind. there are dog's tracks all around as if the animal had struggled with something, but no footprints. there is the track of a snake, too." "a snake!" cried jack, in alarm. "do you think it could have bitten him?" "no," said the colonel, "if he had been bitten we would still have his trail. he seems to have vanished into the air." "i don't see how he could do that," declared don. "neither do i," replied the colonel. "spread out around the tree and see if you can find where he came down." but a thorough search failed to reveal, to the investigators, any trace. "i never saw anything like this," declared the colonel. "he seems to have disappeared completely." "but where could he have gone?" asked jack, anxious for the safety of his brother. "i wish i knew," returned the colonel. "if there were any birds around here big enough we might suspect that one of them had carried him off, but we will evidently have to await pepper's own explanation of the enigma." then he added after a moment: "well, boys, we have got to the end of the trail. i don't know what to do next." "that reminds me," started dick, when there was a hiss, a snarl and a flash through the air from the tree, under whose branches they were standing, and an immense wild cat, spitting and clawing, landed on dick's back. "help! murder!" shouted dick. "take it off!" for an instant the boys were so dumfounded by the suddenness of the attack that they all jumped in different directions, but the colonel, with a well-directed blow from the heavy stick he carried, knocked the animal off of dick, but not before his coat had been torn and dick himself scratched by its claws. snarling and spitting the cat now crouched, facing the colonel, and seemed about to spring. "knock him over the head!" shouted donald. "hit it in the head with a stone," looking about for a weapon. "look out!" called rand, "give me a chance at it!" drawing back his bow and letting fly an arrow which pierced the animal's body and knocked it sprawling, when gerald added a blow from a well-directed stone. with a wild scream the cat bounded into the air and fell motionless to the ground. "look out, rand!" cautioned dick, creeping back from the bushes into which he had fled as soon as he had gained his feet, as rand went up to where the cat was lying. "take care it don't spring on you!" "no danger," replied rand: "it's dead." "faith, thin, oi w'udn't trust it, dead or alive," said gerald. "that was a good shot, rand," commended the colonel, "and just in time. a full-grown wild cat is an enemy not to be despised." "i should say not," agreed dick. "ugh! i feel as if i had been scraped with a curry-comb. i wonder," with a look at his clothes, "if i couldn't get a job somewhere as a scarecrow?" "but what has become of pepper?" asked don. "that is the puzzle that we have got to solve," replied the colonel. "for the present the only thing we can do is to go back to creston and see if we can't pick up some new clues." the boys, with colonel snow, slowly made their way back to the town, carrying with them the body of the cat, the skin of which rand proposed to have tanned for a trophy for the club room. as they entered the town they were met by officer dugan, who put his hand on rand's shoulder. "i have a warrant for your arrest," he said. the party were amazed, and the colonel was the first to speak. "for what?" he asked. "for robbing judge taylor's office," replied the officer. chapter xvii the message for a moment or two pepper hung at the extremity of the branch to which he was clinging, when all at once there came an ominous cracking and the end broke away, but fortunately it had swung so low toward the ground that he dropped at the foot of the tree, not much the worse for his experience. it had ail happened so quickly that, before he had time to utter a cry pepper found himself lying on the ground flat on his back. "my goodness gracious!" exclaimed pepper, feeling himself all over to make sure that he was ail there. "the farther i go the worse it gets. this is certainly the worst yet. i think the ground is good enough for me after that." a little dazed by his fall, pepper, without stopping to consider his direction, started off as fast as he could go, turning this way and that as he went, to avoid the thicker growths of under-brush, until he had gone a mile or more, getting ail the time deeper into the forest. "i think," he mused, when he stopped for a breathing spell, looking about for some clue to guide him, "i had better be getting back to the road. now, i wonder which way it is. let me see, which is the north. that must be it, because this side of the trees have moss on them; then the road must be off this way." starting off in the direction he had decided upon pepper pursued his way, swerving now to the right and again to the left to avoid some all but impassable thicket or some swampy bit of ground, until he judged that he had gone at least a mile. "crickets!" he exclaimed at length. "i wonder where that road has gone. i was not that far from it, i know. i must have traveled about four miles since i left it, in the wrong direction at that. gee! it must be pretty near noon, by the way i feel." looking at his watch he saw it was o'clock, and sat down to eat his lunch. "lucky i brought it along," he thought; "for, from the looks of things, i don't know when i am going to get any more. i wonder if the boys are waiting for me to return? looks as though they would have quite a wait. "now, which way shall i go?" he questioned when he had finished. "there doesn't seem to be any choice in the matter, one way looks as promising as another." striking off at right angles from the way he had been going he decided to try that course for a while, but after traveling for an hour through the underbrush, which seemed to be getting thicker and more difficult to get through the farther he went, he again came to a halt. "looks as if i was lost," he mused, "and the farther i go the more lost i am. i suppose if don were here he would toss up for the way to go, and i guess that's as good a way as any." taking a coin from his pocket he closed his hand upon the metal without looking at it. "if it is head," he decided, "i will go to the right, and if it is tail i will go to the left. it's head," opening his hand. "now, i'll bet that isn't the right way, but i'll try it anyhow." taking the course the coin had indicated pepper plunged into the brush and doggedly pushed on, although he was getting tired and somewhat discouraged. "i am going to keep on this way," he determined, "until i get to the road or come out on the other side, if it brings me out in california." stopping to rest, after he had forced his way through a particularly heavy growth of brush, he was startled at hearing the angry bark of a dog not far away. "crickets!" he cried, "i hope i haven't run across that beast again i think i had better look for a stick while i have time. i don't want to be picking up any more snakes" looking about him he found a good-sized stick lying upon the ground, which he scrutinized closely before venturing to take possession. in addition to the barking of the dog he could now hear voices, and thus encouraged, he advanced in the direction from which came the sounds. "perhaps i can find some one who can direct me how to get out of this," he thought. a few minutes' walk brought him near to a small opening in the woods in which stood a rudely-built cabin, and a little way off a smaller shack which, apparently, was used as a stable, as there was a wagon standing beside it, which pepper recognized as the one he had seen on the road, and as the very one monkey had been driving when he nearly run them down. there were a couple of kegs in the wagon and several tin cans. perched on the roof of the cabin was a boy, whom he recognized as sam tompkins, who had, apparently, climbed there to escape the dog, which was jumping up, trying to get at him. while pepper watched, the man whom he had seen driving the wagon, came from the inside of the house and drove the dog away, at the same time calling to sam to come down. "that's what you get for teasing him," he growled. "he'll take a piece out of you yet." making a surly response sam slipped down from the roof and disappeared into the house. "gee!" exclaimed pepper. "i am glad i didn't walk in on them. now, i wonder what is going on here?" from a large chimney, which was built at the back of the cabin, which was nearest pepper, the smoke from a wood fire was rising, and there was an unpleasant odor in the air. "that must be the smoke we saw from the river the other day," concluded pepper. "i wonder what they are cooking there? i can't say i like the smell of it, whatever it is, and i don't think this is any good place for me, either." slipping back as quietly as he had come, pepper started on his away again. when he had gotten far enough from the place so that, he thought, it would not attract the attention of those there, pepper sounded a call on his bugle. "perhaps the boys are out looking for me when i didn't get back on time," he said, sounding the call from time to time as he went on, but which brought no response. "thank goodness! i've got to the end of the woods," he exclaimed a little later, when he saw an open space not far ahead of him. hurrying forward he found himself, not, as he had expected, on the road, but on the top of a high bluff which descended almost perpendicularly for a hundred feet to a roadway, which was a welcome sight. just below him, looking over the edge, he saw that there was a broad ledge about ten feet down and that, below this again, the cliff sloped at an acute angle to another narrow ledge, but below this again there was seemingly nothing but the bare side of the cliff. "no use trying to get down that way," he soliloquized. "i'll just follow along the edge and see where i come out." turning, he was about to step back when the earth, where he was standing, gave way, sliding down to the ledge below and carrying him with it. "goodness!" he cried, picking himself up and shaking off the dirt with which he was covered. "i wonder what next? now, how am i going to get out of this? i doubt if i can get back up there, and it don't look inviting below." it was impossible to climb up the side of the cliff, as it was almost perpendicular, but upon the small ledge below he noticed that a stunted tree was growing from the rocks. "i wonder if i can catch that tree," considered pepper, preparing to slide down to the ledge. "i guess it ain't a question of can, i've just got to do it, and i won't be any worse off there than i am here, and i may be a good deal better." carefully calculating his distance he let go, sliding down until he reached the ledge where he clutched a tree and held on until he could gain a footing. the ledge, which was about a foot in width, ran but a short distance in either direction, but to the right, a few feet below, was another level space, which pepper judged he might gain. moving cautiously along until he was over the point he let himself down to the lower ledge. following this along he was able to gain another, and so on, slipping at times and tumbling, until he finally came out upon a small plateau at the foot of the hill. "thank goodness!" he cried as he got up and shook himself. "i've got to the bottom, anyhow. i hope there isn't anything more coming my way or i won't get that message there to-day, and i've got to move pretty quick, as it is." he had gone but a short distance when he heard a loud "hello," and looked up to see a strange boy in the scout uniform standing on the rocks not far above him. "hello!" called the boy again; "who are you?" "hello!" he replied. "pepper blake. who are you?" "tom brown," replied the other, then, with his trumpet, sending out a call that went echoing among the rocks until it brought back an answering call. "say, hold on until i get down there," he said, addressing pepper, then clambering down until he stood beside the lost boy. "do you know we have been hunting all over for you?" "no," replied pepper; "but i am mighty glad to see you just the same." "how did you get down here?" went on tom. "tumbled down, mainly," was the reply. "i took a drop from the top of the hill yonder." by this time several more of the boys, who were members of the highpoint patrol, had joined them and began to ply the object of their search with questions. "hold on a minute," said one of them. "say, pepper, ain't you hungry?" "well, i had a bite," he confessed; "but that was a good while ago, and i want to get on with this message." "i guess you have got there," said the boy, with a laugh. "i am jack dudley, the leader; you can give it to me." "all right," replied pepper, with a sigh of relief; "i got it to you, anyhow." "you certainly did," said jack. "lucky we brought along a day's rations. we didn't know how long we might be out. now," as the boys got out their supplies from their knapsacks and spread them out on the rocks, "tell us how you got here." whereupon pepper related the story of his adventures. "my goodness!" exclaimed tom, when the story was finished, "i don't believe it is safe for you to be out alone. what do you say, boys, don't you think we ought to see him safe home?" "sure," agreed the others. "it's getting dark now," continued tom, "and there is no telling what he will find on the road." so, in spite of pepper's protests that he was all right and that once put upon the right road he could take care of himself, the boys insisted upon escorting him to the outskirts of creston, which they reached without further misadventure. "do you think you will be safe now?" asked tom as they were about to leave him. "of course i will," replied pepper, with a laugh; "why, i am almost home." "well, then, good night," they called, and with three cheers for pepper, the messenger of the uncas, the highpoint boys turned about and went on their way home. tired, but happy that he had succeeded in delivering the message, pepper hurried on home. he was almost there when he was accosted by a schoolmate and was told that his brother jack and others had been seen going into judge taylor's office. it was but a step farther, so thither he directed his course. chapter xviii in the judge's office colonel snow and the greatly excited boys accompanied the officer and his charge to the judge's office. "good evening, colonel; good evening, boys," said the judge, greeting them pleasantly when they came in under the escort of the officer. "i am glad to see you. is this an official visit?" "good evening, judge," replied rand. "i suppose it must be. the officer said i was under arrest." "gracious, no! not at all," said the judge. "that was a blunder, indeed. i merely told him i wanted to see you. i wanted to see if you could throw any light on the robbing of my office." "have you any reason to think that they know anything about it?" demanded the colonel indignantly. "no sufficient reason," replied the judge. "now, don't get excited," as the colonel was about to speak, "but there has been a lot of loose talk circulating, and i thought i would like to settle it." "loose talk!" exclaimed the colonel; "about whom?" "about randolph, dick wilson and young blake," explained the judge; "and, by the way, where is pepper? i don't see him here." "we don't know where he is," replied jack. "we have been hunting for him all the afternoon, but we couldn't find him." "how is that?" questioned the judge. whereupon the story of the unavailing search was told. "that is certainly remarkable," admitted the judge. "perhaps we had better put this matter off until we see if we can't find him. have you any plans, colonel?" "no," replied the colonel, forgetting his anger over the blundering arrest. "i am at a complete loss how to proceed. if the ground had opened and swallowed him he could not have disappeared more suddenly and more completely." "we shall certainly have to start another search. the question is where to begin," mused the judge, and just then, catching sight of officer dugan, his mind reverting to the latter's inexcusable blunder, he gave the chagrined minion of the law a severe reprimand. how far the angry judge might have proceeded is not known, for just at this moment pepper appeared in the doorway. "pepper!" cried jack. "where in the world have you been?" "where in the world haven't i been?" he responded. "you evidently found yourself," asserted the colonel. "is it really you, pepper?" asked gerald; "and where did you hide yourself?" and other questions came thick and fast. "just returned from delivery of the message to the highpoint scouts," finally answered the boy when he was afforded an opportunity to speak. "highpoint! why, we went to highpoint!" cried rand, "and you had not been there. which way did you go?" "don't know," replied the messenger. "round by robin hood's barn, i guess; but i came out on the side of the cliff, and the highpoints fortunately found me." "but how did you get out of the tree?" asked the colonel. "we couldn't find any trail." "did you know i was up a tree? well, i climbed into the next tree," was the reply. "ah!" said the colonel, "that accounts for it. i never thought of that." "tell us about it," requested the judge. "there isn't very much to tell," said pepper, repeating the details of his trip, from the time of meeting the horse and wagon with monkey rae and the man. "of course," muttered jack, "you could bet monkey would be in it somewhere." "s-s-say," went on pepper, "how did that fight come out? i didn't have time to stop and see." "i should think not," observed the judge; "it was your busy day." "i think it must have been a draw," answered the colonel, "for each went his own way. but to return to our business. you said, judge, there was some talk about these boys; what is it?" "well, you know," began the judge, "my office was broken into some time ago and some things taken." "you don't think that these boys had anything to do with it, do you?" interrupted the colonel. "of course not," the judge assured him; "but there were some boys' tracks--now let me go on--and it has been said that these boys were out very early on that morning, and that they have been spending money pretty freely of late, buying uniforms and other things." "but we earned that money ourselves," interrupted pepper indignantly. "don't get hot, pepper," counseled donald. "i don't doubt it," replied the judge; "and then it is reported that randolph and pepper claimed to have found money on the road." "i don't know as you could call it money," demurred rand, showing the coin that he had found. "i found this and pepper found another." "ah!" remarked the judge, taking the coin, "that looks like one of those stolen from me. where did you find it?" "on the mountain road," answered rand. "we did not know that they were yours, or we should have returned them." "i don't know that they are mine," said the judge, "although they are similar. you had better keep them for the present. so that is the way they went," he mused; "they probably escaped in a boat. i'm afraid there isn't much chance of capturing them. that is all, boys. i just wanted to have a talk with you to straighten things out." "where did all these stories come from?" asked the colonel. "oh, i think it is mostly boys' talk," said the judge. "i think tompkins said he heard it from his boy." "sam tompkins!" cried jack, "of course. he's trying to throw suspicion on us, but i guess he knows a lot more about it than we do." "i think you have hit it, jack," agreed the judge. "i believe that is a clue worth following up." "but what about the tools?" asked the officer. "oh, yes," continued the judge, "i had forgotten about them. do you know anything about these tools, dick?" "yes, sir; they came from our shop," he answered. "ah! that's what i thought," said the officer to himself. "it isn't going to end here." "they were taken from there," went on dick. "we missed them several days before the robbery, but i don't know who took them." "then they must have been taken by some one around here," concluded the judge. "it seems to me that the farther we go the more mysterious it gets. jack, i think that you had better set your wits to work and see if you can't clear it up." "very well, judge," answered jack, who had been going over the matter in his mind. "i think i have a clue that i am going to follow up and see what comes of it." "good," commented the judge. "while i do not believe for an instant that any of you young gentlemen had anything to do with the robbery, i would like to see it brought home to those who did it." "and i, too," added the colonel. "good night, boys," continued the judge. "you have had rather an exciting day, and i think you had better be getting home. i think you want to look out for pepper so that nothing more happens to him to-night." "good night, judge," responded the boys, jack adding as they went out, "i won't leave him out of sight until i have him safe in the house." chapter xix a narrow escape "row, brothers, row," said gerald "kape it up, you're doin' fine." "how are we going?" asked rand. "almost as fasht as oi c'ud walk," replied gerald in his richest brogue. "av ye hit it up a bit mebbe ye c'ud be in toime to see the ind av it to-morrow, oi dunno." "but truly, geraid," asked donald, "how are we doing?" "as weil as c'ud be ixpected av a lot of farmers," replied the irrepressible gerald. "ye moight do worse, oi dunno. mebbe av ye tho't ye were hoeing potatoes ye c'ud do betther. can't ye hit up a bit?" "i guess we can; a little," replied rand, who was rowing stroke, slightly increasing his effort. "how is that?" "betther," responded the other, and the boat shot ahead a little faster. the uncas crew were out for a final spin over the course before the race, which had been set for the following day. beside the uncas and the highpoint, the alton, from farther up the river, had also entered. it was not thought, even by their friends, that the uncas had much chance against the others, whose crews, particularly the alton's, were much heavier and stronger. "is that better?" asked rand, after they had rowed a short time. "'tis a thrifle betther," replied gerald. "av ye do as well to-morrow, mebbe we won't be disgraced intirely, oi dunno." "come now, gerald," pleaded jack, "tell us how we are doing?" "shure, oi don't want to discourage ye intirely," replied gerald, "but ye didn't do any betther than three minutes in the lasht moile." "three minutes!" shouted don; "did we do it in that?" "hurrah!" cried jack; "we'll be in it yet." "in what?" asked dick. "in the water," chuckled jack. "you will be," retorted donald, "if you spring anything like that on us again." "that reminds me--" began dick. "what does?" asked donald. "what is the matter, gerald?" broke in rand, as the coxswain, with a sudden exclamation, threw the rudder hard down and called: "up oars, all!" the boys raised their oars just in time as the shell grazed the stern of a heavy skiff, which a boy, who was rowing, had stopped just in the course of the shell. "hey, there!" shouted rand as the boats swept apart: "what are you trying to do, run us down?" "what are you trying to do, yourself?" retorted a man, who was sitting in the stern of the skiff. "don't you think anybody has any right on the river but you? think you own the whole place, don't you?" "but you had plenty of room without getting in the way," persisted rand. "i think you did it on purpose." "aw, go wan!" returned the man. "don't get too funny or i'll come over there and take you over my knee." "come over and try it, if you think you can do it," replied rand hotly. "monkey rae again," murmured jack. "i thought we had got rid of him." "keep cool, rand," advised don; "it isn't worth while making a fuss over." "he ought to have his head punched," put in dick. "who?" asked jack. "don?" "no; that fellow in the boat," answered dick. "that isn't the way to teach him good manners," objected jack. "it's the only way you can teach some people," argued dick. "who is he?" "oh, that's the man that took our boat up the river," replied jack. "what do you think he was trying to do?" went on dick. "trying to steal it, of course," replied jack. "i mean now." "oh, smash us up so we couldn't row to-morrow," guessed jack. "but what for?" persisted dick. "oh, just pure ugliness, i guess," replied jack. "then, you know, monkey has it in for rand for the thrashing he once gave him for beating his dog." "does he carry malice like that?" asked donald. "he will carry it all his life," replied jack, "and then some more. then monkey doesn't like any of us because he was always behind us in school. he says we got ahead by favor, for we aren't any smarter than he is." "let fall!" ordered gerald. "let's try it again." the boys bent to their work, but they had lost their vim, and they did not strike their pace again. "i don't understand about monkey," began jack, as they drew into the landing. "there is something back of all this, and i mean to find out what it is." "what have you been doing," cried pepper, who was waiting for them on the landing, "fishing?" "no; monkeying," answered rand. "jim rae got in the way, and we had to stop for fear of smashing into him." "why didn't you do it and get rid of him?" asked pepper. "it would more likely have got rid of us," replied rand; "and i guess that is what he was trying to do." chapter xx a night alarm "who's there?" called rand sharply. he was sitting with donald and pepper on the steps of the piazza, in front of mr. scott's house. "there is nobody there," declared donald; "it's just your imagination." "but i certainly saw something move behind that bush over there," insisted rand. "and i, too," confirmed pepper. "you are always seeing things, even when there ain't any," continued donald. "and you can't see them until they hit you with a club," retorted pepper. "any one there?" called rand again, going to the spot which pepper pointed out, and followed by the others. "sh!" was the whispered reply from behind the bushes. "it is only i." "who are you?" demanded rand. "win moore," replied a small boy, coming out. "why, hello, win," said rand; "what were you trying to do, play spook?" "no," replied win, "but i thought maybe gerald was here." "he isn't here," answered rand. "do you want to see him?" "yes," hesitated win; "i have something to tell him." "i am sorry he isn't here," continued rand. "anything i can do for you?" "there isn't any one around, is there?" went on win doubtfully. "nobody but pepper, don and i," replied rand. "you know them. what is it?" "they are going to smash the shell to-night," whispered win, looking fearfully about him. "they are going to do what?" exclaimed donald. "say it again," said rand, doubting that he had heard aright. "they are going to smash the shell to-night, so you can't row to-morrow," repeated win. "who are?" demanded donald, still incredulous. "monkey rae and sam tompkins," answered win. "how do you know?" asked pepper. "i heard them planning," explained win. "i was up in the woods to-day and i heard some one talking, and i listened to hear who it was." "what did they say?" "monkey said he guessed there'd be a surprise party here in the morning, when you found you didn't have any boat to row with. sam asked how they could do it, and monkey said they would go down to the boathouse to-night, after it got dark, and fix it. sam didn't want to go very much, but monkey said it was all right, and nobody would know who did it." "do you think he meant our shell?" "sure," replied win. "he said he was going to get square with rand peyton and pepper blake. so i hid in the bushes until they went away, and i came down here to tell gerald." "thank you, win," said rand; "we are ever so much obliged to you." "don't let them know i told you," pleaded win, "or they will half kill me for telling." "sure not," promised rand. "you can slip off again and no one will know you have been here." "well, what do you think of that!" exclaimed pepper, when win had gone. "shure, an' phat mischief are ye's plotting now?" demanded gerald, who came across the lawn as his brother slipped away. "more monkey tricks," responded rand. "monkey is going to surprise us to-night." "is he now?" asked gerald; "and phat is he up to now?" "he is going to smash the shell so we can't row to-morrow," replied donald. "faith, i think he'll find it a hard nut to crack," asserted gerald, dropping his brogue in his indignation. "though there isn't anything surprising about that. i don't think monkey could surprise us, except by trying to be good." "and i don't believe he'll try that," laughed pepper. "what shall we do about it?" asked gerald. "tell the colonel?" "i am no sure there is anything to it," said donald. "and it may be possible we can take care of monkey and sam ourselves. in my opinion, it would no be a bad plan to go down to the boathouse and capture them if they come." "that isn't a bad idea," agreed rand. "we can slip away, one at a time, so if they see us they won't suspect anything. i will go first and the rest of you can join me later. there isn't any moon to-night, and we can easily find places to hide around the house." "faith," whispered gerald, "we'll beat them at their own game." acting upon rand's suggestion the boys separated, each taking a different course, meeting later at the boathouse. the place was in darkness when rand, who was the first to arrive, got there. making a hasty examination by the light of a match he saw that the shell was all right. keeping in the dark, he waited until the others, slipping up like so many shadows, had come. "seen or heard anything?" asked donald, as they consulted behind the house. "not a thing," responded rand. "perhaps they have given it up." "you can no depend upon what they may do," commented donald. "that's right, old solomon," agreed pepper; "so it's just as well to be prepared for anything." "what shall we do if they come?" asked donald. "jump out and scare them to death," suggested gerald. "no," advised rand. "let's give them a chance to get in. if they go to the door or window, don or i will give the call and we will all rush on them and grab them." "don't wait too long or they may spoil the shell," said pepper. "we will just give them a chance to get inside," went on rand, detailing his plans. "i think it will be better if we each hide in a different place. pepper can go over there behind those bushes and watch the road. don can watch the door, and i will go on the other side and look out for the window." "and phat will oi be doing?" asked gerald, who could not resist his fun-making instincts. "you can hide down by the shore and watch the river." "we ought to have some kind of a signal if we hear them coming," suggested pepper. "like paul revere, 'one if by land, and two if by sea,'" quoted rand. "if you hear them coming down the road, pepper, you can give the whip-poor-will call, and gerald, if he hears anything, can give the owl call." "owl right," responded gerald, as they each went to their appointed stations. the night was warm and pleasant. no sound, except the soft lapping of the waves on the shore, the chirp of a cricket or the occasional croak of a tree frog, disturbed the quiet of the night. as the time wore on, without any disturbance, the watches began to doze until gerald was suddenly roused with a start by a splash in the water and saw a boat gliding silently toward the landing. "faith, it looks as if there might be some fun after all," whispered gerald to himself, softly hooting a couple of times and concealing himself behind an upturned boat. "what was that?" asked one of the rowers at the sound of gerald's call. "aw, it's nothing but an owl," replied the other. "whatcher 'fraid of?" the boat was now at the landing, and the taller of the two stepping out fastened the boat and went toward the house, calling upon his companion to follow. "there will be some fun here in the morning," chuckied the foremost, whom gerald now recognized as monkey rae. "sure there ain't anybody 'round?" asked the other, hesitating. "of course there ain't," responded monkey confidently. "aw, come on! what yer 'fraid of? nobody knows anything about it but you and i, and we ain't a-shoutin' it." "i thought i heard a noise," demurred the other. "oh, bother!" returned monkey impatiently. "you're always hearing something." "how are we going to get in?" "don't worry about that," answered monkey, "i fixed the window all right to-day." while talking monkey had opened the window and started to crawl into the house. "if you're afraid to come in," he said scornfully to the other, "stay outside and keep watch. it won't take me more than a minute to crack this shell." at this instant rand, with a shrill, clear whistle, sprang out from his hiding place and in a moment all was confusion. "shure, the fat's in the fire now," chuckled gerald to himself. as the whistle sounded monkey sprang back through the window, landing in a heap almost at rand's feet, but was up and off before rand could get a hold on him, and sped after his companion, who had started off at the first alarm, in a race down the landing to their boat. "hi! stop them, gerald!" shouted rand, dashing after them. donald, at the alarm, rushed toward the window, and, tripping over a coil of rope, stumbled against a stack of oars, sending them down with a crash that could be heard a mile. picking himself up, he ran after rand down the landing. there was a splash in the water, and the sound of rapidly receding oars, but there was no one at the landing. "what has become of gerald?" asked rand, looking around. "he can't be far off," replied donald, "give him a call." "hello-o-o, gerald!" shouted rand, but gerald did not answer. "hello, there! what's ail the noise about?" demanded colonel snow, who had followed pepper onto the landing. "why, boys, what are you doing here?" "we can't find gerald," explained donald, who was looking in ail kinds of impossible places. "i shouldn't think you would in such a place as that," said the colonel, as donald turned over some small boxes. "what is it now, hide and seek, or has gerald been losing himself?" "i don't know," replied rand. "we heard that monkey rae was going to smash the shell tonight, so we came down to catch him, but he got away from us." "monkey rae again!" exclaimed the colonel. "i should think there was at least half a dozen of him the way he gets around. but what has that got to do with gerald?" "why, gerald was out here on the landing, and now we can't find him. i don't know what has become of him, or if he is just hiding for fun," explained rand; "though i don't see where he could hide here," he added. "sure of that?" questioned the colonel. "let's take another look around." lighting a lantern from the boathouse they made a thorough search of the place without finding anything of their missing comrade. "perhaps he got tired of waiting and went home," suggested the colonel. "that wouldn't be gerald," averred rand and donald. "he wouldn't go off and leave us without saying anything and, besides, he was here when they came, for he gave us the signal." "well, he isn't here now," decided the colonel after another look around. "hello, gerald!" he called, and the boys sounded the call on their bugles. "he ought to answer that if he is anywhere around," said rand. "do you think they could have carried him off?" asked pepper. "i don't know what to think," replied the colonel. "it's queer. you boys certainly have an amazing faculty for getting into trouble." "but how did you get here?" asked rand. "i was just taking a stroll," replied the colonel, "when i heard the noise and came down to see what it was." chapter xxi a surprise "w-w-what was that?" stammered pepper. "i t-thought i heard a cry. t-t-there it is again," as a faint call came from the river. the three boys were standing on the landing with colonel snow, still discussing the mysterious disappearance of gerald. "t-that you, gerald?" shouted pepper. "where are you?" cried donald; but, without waiting for a reply, he threw off his coat and shoes and plunged into the river, swimming in the direction from which the cry had come, "he's all right!" came the reassuring cry from donald a little later. "i have got him," and shortly afterwards reappeared paddling a boat in which was the bewildered gerald, who was helped onto the landing by the colonel and the others. "h-h-how did you g-get into the boat, gerald?" asked pepper when gerald had somewhat recovered from the effects of his experience. "did you think it was a good time to take a row?" "it looks that way," replied gerald. "but when rand called to me to stop them i ran out to try and head them off, but something gave me a rap on the head and the next thing i knew i found myself lying in that boat. say, i feel as if i had a head like a pumpkin." "i s-should think it would feel more like a s-squash," commented pepper. "that is going altogether too far," asserted the colonel indignantly. "it might have had a very serious ending. i think that there is a bad quarter-of-an-hour in store for that rae boy if i can get hold of him in the morning." as there was no likelihood that monkey rae would return to renew his attempt to injure the boat the house was locked and the boys went back to the town discussing, as they went, the events of the evening. the colonel was very indignant. when they came near to the top of the hill they were met by jack, who was running at full speed down the road. "hello!" called rand when he came near. "where are you going in such a hurry?" "hello," returned jack, slowing up and joining the others. "where have you been? i have been looking all over for you." "down to the boathouse," replied rand. "down to the boathouse!" exclaimed jack. "what took you down there tonight?" "why, we heard that monkey was g-going to s-smash the boat," answered pepper. "monkey!" cried jack. "i wish i had been there----" "wouldn't have done you any good," said donald. "he was too quick for us." "was any one with him?" asked jack. "only sam tompkins." "ah!" returned jack. "what did i tell you?" "don't know," replied pepper; "you tell us so many things that we can't remember them all. what did you tell us this time?" "about monkey rae and sam tompkins, and the queer coins you picked up in the road that day." "i believe you did say something about monkey and the coins," admitted donald, "but i no paid much attention to it." "but what has that got to do with the present excitement?" asked rand. "listen to this," exclaimed jack, stopping under an electric light to read a circular that he drew from his pocket. "three hundred dollars reward. escaped from jail. three hundred dollars will be paid for the arrest and detention of one james rae, alias 'limpy,' who escaped from the jail at melton on june fifth. said rae is about forty years old, stoutly built, and five feet eight inches in height. has smooth face, red hair, and walks with a limp. james robinson, sheriff." "w-w-why, t-t-that must be m-m-monkey rae's father," stammered pepper when jack had finished reading. "i knew he was away somewhere, but i didn't know he was in prison." "shure, there's lots of things ye don't know, me darlint," interjected gerald. "and he is the man who was with monkey on the river," added rand. "and the man that was in the boat the other day," put in dick. "i hope they catch him!" said pepper vindictively. "go for him, pepper," encouraged gerald. "and that is what monkey stole the fish for," continued pepper. "of course it was," replied jack. "didn't i tell you there was something back of this monkey business?" "but i no see it yet," remarked donald. "of course you don't," said jack. "you want it explained with a diagram. it was rae who robbed judge taylor's office, and monkey and sam tompkins helped him. he was hiding in the woods when we saw him." "but what has that got to do with the coins?" demanded donald. "why, they stole them out of the judge's office and lost them where rand and pepper found them. i've been studying this thing out ever since the night we were in the judge's office. you see, there was suspicion of some of us and i wanted to clear it off. it's all as clear as day now." "whin the fog's so thick ye c'ud cut it with a knife," put in gerald. "give us a diagram av it." "why, the robbery was done by rae and some of his pals," explained jack. "they sent monkey up between the buildings and he opened the window and got in and then opened the doors for the others. when they got through all they had to do was to walk out, and monkey closed and fastened the doors after them and went down the same way as he got in." "but how do you know that rae did it?" asked rand. "by putting two and two together," replied jack. "i knew that the coins you found were like some that had been stolen. monkey rae and sam went over the road just before you found them. they had not been lying there long, or they would have been covered up in the dirt, or some one else would have found them." "'tis no way impossible," admitted donald. "then some of the tools they used had been taken from wilson's blacksmith shop, and you know dick said that monkey and sam used to come in there almost every day, so that it was quite probable that they took them; that's number two." "go on," urged rand. "it is growing interesting." "well, there isn't much more; but i saw, from this circular, that rae had escaped from prison, so i concluded that the man we saw in the boat was rae, and i put the two and two together and worked it out that it was he who robbed the judge's office." "what was he after?" asked pepper. "i don't know exactly," replied jack; "but it was papers of some kind." "well, it does look as if you were right," conceded donald; "but you haven't got any proof." "no," admitted jack; "but i have given the officer the tip, and told him about the shack in the woods where pepper saw rae. they are going to make a raid on it tomorrow, and perhaps they will find some of the stolen property in their possession; then we have the impression of a hand on this paper, and we can get one of monkey's hands and see if they aren't the same." "faith, hunting is wan thing and finding's anither," commented gerald. which proved to be quite true in this case, for when the officers reached the cabin in the woods they found it deserted and dismantled. the occupants had evidently taken alarm and disappeared, leaving no trace, although the boys were destined to meet them again under decidedly unpleasant circumstances. chapter xxii the race the race had been set for o'clock in the morning, but, with the sun, there had come up a strong breeze from the west that had stirred up the water into such a lumpy condition that any kind of time would be impossible, and the advantage would be all on the side of the altons. so the race was put off from time to time in the hope that the wind would die down so as to equalize the chances, and it was not until late in the afternoon that the committee decided to have it rowed, although the wind was still blowing and the water rough. the course, as agreed upon, was a straight-away three miles over a clear stretch of the river from off the creston landing. "what have you got there?" asked dick, as rand pulled a coin from his pocket and began rubbing it up on his sleeve. "that's his mascot," laughed jack. "it's the coin he found in the road, and he keeps it for luck." "well, i guess it has its work cut out for it, all right," went on dick. "he will have his hands full--if it is a he--to keep us in the procession. alton has a crew of blacksmiths." "so much the more weight to carry," replied rand, who made the best of everything. "not much chance for us," put in jack. "oh, i don't know," returned rand. "'stranger things than that have happened,' as the old woman said when she kissed her cow." "you mean as the man said when he married his cook," corrected donald. "well, there wasn't anything strange about that," returned rand, "if she was a good cook." "or if her cooking was good," added jack. "are you ready, all?" now called the starter, and each one of the different crews grasped his oar with quickened tension as the coxswains responded: "ready!" and there followed the sharp report of the pistol. as the report rang out the oars of the three crews, all like a piece of accurate machinery, struck the water at the same instant and the boats leaped forward as if shot from a spring. at the start the weight of the alton crew told, and their boat darted to the front, only to be hugged a moment later by highpoint, while the uncas trailed just behind them. "easy, boys, easy," cautioned gerald. "there are three miles of it, you know." the three boats were all together. alton a bit in the lead, but without any daylight showing between them. the uncas last, but still in the race. "shure, 'tis foine, ye'r doing," cried gerald. "ye have thim all scared. see how they are running away from ye!" for the first mile there was no change, alton still leading, but the pace was telling, and highpoint was creeping up--uncas still in the rear. in the next mile there was still no change in the order, and it looked like alton's race, but as the second mile was passed highpoint poked its nose in front, uncas still hugging them. "now, then!" cried gerald, as they entered on the last half mile, "hit it up, boys; we are still in it!" "the mascot's working overtime," panted dick, "but he's making good." the boys quickened their stroke in response to gerald's call, and inch by inch, the uncas pulled up on their rivals and, just as the finish was reached, slid across the line a scant six inches in front. it was only six inches, but enough, and though the boys could scarce sit up, their fatigue was forgotten in the joy of the unexpected victory. "tra-la-la," trilled gerald on his bugle, but its notes were drowned by the call of the leader of the highpoints for three cheers for the uncas, which were given with a will by both the losing crews. after cheering each other, until they were hoarse, the three crews went their ways with an agreement to row another race later in the season. "that's one for the mascot," drawled rand, when the boat had been rowed to the landing, where the colonel, with pepper and others, were waiting for them. "well, boys," said the colonel, after he had congratulated them on their victory, "you look as if you had been doing a day's work on a farm." "well, i don't know," responded rand. "it was hard work, but i think, after all, i had rather be the man with the row than the man with the hoe." "that reminds me--" began dick. "it does, eh?" questioned donald. "well, i don't know why, i am sure." "that, speaking of roses--" went on dick. "roses!" ejaculated jack. "who said anything about roses?" "well, talking about roses, anyhow--" continued dick. "i don't see anything about here to remind you of roses," contended donald. "can you tell me," persisted dick, "what kind of rows never come singly?" "the kind you have to hoe," responded donald, whose father had a garden. "i guess that's right, don," agreed the colonel "shad roes," proclaimed dick. "pooh!" sniffed don; "that has an ancient and fishlike flavor." "which reminds me," remarked the colonel, "that i provided some refreshments, as a consolation for your defeat, but as you won i suppose you won't care for them now." "speaking for myself," said dick modestly; "it sounds good to me." chapter xxiii conclusion "i hope i am not too late to congratulate you on your victory," said a pleasant voice, and the boys looked up to see a young gentleman standing in the doorway of the room, where, having finished the repast the colonel had provided, they were sitting around talking over the details of the race. "i have been looking for you for a couple of weeks," he went on, coming into the room and offering his hand to rand. "it was a splendid race and pluckily rowed, and you deserved to win." "thank you," replied rand. "did you say you were looking for me?" "for all of you," replied the gentleman. "i see you don't remember me. i am frank whilden, whose sister you saved from drowning the other day. come in, nellie," he called to a young girl who was standing outside. "these are the young men who came to our rescue." "i just want to thank you all--" began nellie. "oh, it was no anything," returned donald. "it was very much to me," began nellie. "i mean," explained donald confusedly "it's no great thing to make a claver about." "but it was a great thing to have saved you," interposed rand, with an emphasis on the you. "that's very nice," replied nellie. "won't you shake hands with me, all around?" "faith, you won't be asking me twice to do myself the favor," replied gerald. "sure i wasn't there to have the pleasure of saving you, but i would have been there if you had sent me word." "don't forget the most important part, nellie," her brother reminded her when she had finished shaking hands. "mother sends her regards to you all," went on nellie, "and hopes you will accept the little present she has sent you." "but we don't want any reward for what we did," protested rand. "it was reward enough to have helped you." "this isn't a reward," continued nellie; "just a little token of her esteem. we had it sent down to-day. frank and i thought if you didn't win the race it might console you a little. we do hope you will like it." frank had gone from the room, but returned now with a handsome dart motorcycle. "crickets!" cried pepper. "i-i-it's a beauty, ain't it?" while the boys gathered around it to examine it. "s-s-say----" "whistle it, pepper," said jack. "i don't know what it is you want to say, but i guess we all agree with you." "we can take turns using it." "we can draw lots for the first ride on it." "or toss up for it," proposed donald. "i am glad you like it," began nellie. "we most certainly do," chorused the boys; "and we are ever so much obliged. we couldn't have had anything that would have suited us nearly so well." "there are five more just like it outside," went on nellie; "one for each of you, and we hope you will get a lot of pleasure from them." "but we can't accept all these," protested rand, while the others stood silent in stupefied amazement. "crickets!" exclaimed pepper. "i will be awful sorry to-morrow." images generously made available by the cwru preservation department digital library young knights of the empire their code and further scout yarns by sir robert baden-powell k.c.b., k.c.v.o., ll.d. author of "scouting for boys," "yarns for boy scouts," "scouting games," "my adventures as a spy," etc. foreword to boy-men,-- in offering this collection of yarns, i do not suggest that these are anything more than further illustrations of the steps already schemed in _scouting for boys_ for self-education in character and good citizenship. but illustrations by themselves are of comparatively little value unless the theories and ideas conveyed by them are also put into actual and habitual practice. it is in this that the boy needs your encouragement. robert baden-powell young knights of the empire the scout law perhaps you wonder what is a young knight of the empire. well, you know what a knight is--or rather, used to be in the old days--a gallant fellow who was always ready to defend weaker people when they were being bullied; he was brave and honourable, and ready to risk his life in doing his duty according to the code or law of chivalry. well, nowadays there are thousands of boys all over the british empire carrying out the same idea, and making themselves into fine, reliable men, ready to take the place of those who have gone away to fight and who have fallen at the front. these are the boy scouts. their code is the scout law--that is, a set of ten rules which they carry out in their daily life. i will explain these laws, and will give you some other yarns of camp life and adventure such as the scouts go in for. honour law . a scout's honour is to be trusted. _if a scout says "on my honour it is so," that means it is so, just as if he had taken a most solemn oath._ _similarly if a scout officer says to a scout, "i trust you on your honour to do this," the scout is bound to carry out the order to the very best of his ability, and to let nothing interfere with his doing so._ _if a scout were to break his honour by telling_ a lie, or_ by not carrying out an order exactly when trusted on his honour to do so, he may be directed to hand over his scout badge and never wear it again. he may also be directed to cease to be a scout._ people of a civilised country, just like boys in a school, are bound to conduct themselves in a proper manner, because of the law which causes them to be punished if they misbehave. there is a code of laws drawn up for this purpose. but there is another kind of law which binds people just as much as their written laws, though this one is neither written nor published. this unwritten law is honour. a boy who has clambered over the school wall to go out of bounds and smoke secretly has committed an offence against the published law of the school. if next day the master asks in school, "who has broken out of bounds?" the boy is not bound by the law to confess that he did; he can remain silent and thus escape punishment; but he is a poor-spirited creature if he does so, and has no sense of honour. if he is honourable he will manfully and honestly tell the master that he broke out and will stand whatever punishment comes of it. by so doing he will have proved to the master and to the other boys that he is manly and not afraid to tell the truth, and is to be relied upon because he puts his honour before all. so the first training that the boy scout gets is to understand that honour is his own private law which is guided by his conscience, and that once he is a scout he must be guided in all his doings by his sense of honour. loyalty law . a scout is loyal to the king, and to his officers, and to his parents, his country, his employers, and to those under his orders. he must stick to them through thick and thin against anyone who is their enemy or who even talks badly of them. there was a scoutmaster in the east end of london who when the war broke out felt it his duty to give up the splendid work he was doing amongst the poor boys of the east end in order to take up service for his country. scoutmaster lukis--for that is his name--felt bound, by his sense of loyalty to his king and his country, to give up the life he was then living and face the dangers of soldiering on active service. but the example which he set in loyalty was promptly followed by some eighty young fellows who were his scouts or old scouts. their loyalty to him made them wish to follow their leader wherever his duty led him. so they became soldiers like himself and all went together to the front. a day came when the trenches which they were holding were heavily shelled. the danger was great and the losses were heavy, and finally a piece of shrapnel struck captain lukis in the leg and shattered his thigh. two of his east london boy scout's sprang to his assistance and tended him with devoted care. they waited for a lull in the firing and finally between them they carried him, although exposed to a deadly fire, to a place of safety. while so doing one of them was hit and severely wounded. but the spirit of the lads was splendid. they cared nothing for their own safety so that they got their beloved scoutmaster out of danger. that was loyalty. loyalty means faithfulness. your dog is faithful to you and sticks to you even though you may beat him. he overlooks your faults and your unkindness and remains loyal to you. loyalty begins at home. some boys are always thinking that their parents are wrong or unfair to them. if you think that your parents have any faults, don't look at those faults. be loyal to your parents; remember only that it is thanks to them that you are alive and able to be a scout. obey your parents, believe in them, and respect them; if you can at any time help them, do so. by doing these things you are being loyal to them. by being loyal to them you are carrying out that commandment of the bible which says: "honour thy father and thy mother." be loyal, also, in the same way-by obeying and thinking no evil and by backing them up-to your patrol-leader, your scoutmaster, and your schoolmaster. if you are a working boy carry out the same idea towards your foreman, your manager, and your employer. on taking up your work, you have agreed to do a certain amount for a certain wage, and it is loyalty on your part then to stick to that agreement and to give good work in return for your pay. if, on the other hand, you are a well-to-do boy and come to have a servant or a man working under you as you grow older, you should equally be loyal to him. remember that in taking him on you expect a certain amount of work from him for the money you give him; if you find that he gives you more work than you agreed for, you will be acting loyally to him if you then increase his wage: but never go back on your agreement, and do not try to make more money out of him than you meant to do when first making the contract. so, too, if you are a patrol or other leader, and if those under you get into trouble through carrying out your ideas, be loyal to them; own up that it was through your fault that they did wrong. whatever line of life you may be in, be loyal to god, to your king, and to your country. * * * * * antarctic scouting. all boy scouts know of sir ernest shackleton, a brother peace-scout of the empire--and a first-class one, too. on one of his voyages of exploration to the south pole he was very nearly successful in getting to that point, he was within ninety-seven miles of it, in fact, when his food supplies gave out, and he and those with him were in great danger of starving, and had, most unwillingly, to turn back to regain their ship. they had left the ship when they had got her as far south as was possible through the ice; they then went on foot over land and sea, all hard frozen and covered with snow, and they took their food with them, and stored depots, or what scouts would call "caches," to use on their return journey. for weeks they struggled along over difficult ground. one day in january, although they had cut down their rations and ate as little as possible (so little indeed that they were getting weak), they found that they were coming to the end of their food, and they must either turn back or go on and die, in which case the record of their work would have been lost. so they planted a flagstaff with the union jack on it, and left a box containing a notice that they had annexed the land for great britain and king edward vii. they took a long look with their field-glasses in the direction of the south pole to see if any mountains were to be seen, but there were none. and then they started on their desperate tramp to the ship. they made a number of interesting and useful discoveries. they came upon mountains and glaciers of ice, and mineral rocks of coal and limestone. and they found tiny insects which are able to live in the ice, and when they boiled them, they did not kill them! they found that the penguins, the great wingless birds which sit up and look just like people, enjoyed listening to a gramophone, which they set going for their benefit. but their journey back was a very anxious and trying experience for them. in order to guide them they had planted flags here and there along their path, but storms came and blew them down, and it was, therefore, most difficult to find their way from one food depot to another. they did it largely by spooring their old tracks. this is how sir ernest shackleton describes their doings on one particular day: "we were thirty miles from our depot. although we could see it in the distance, it was practically unattainable, for soft snow covered treacherous crevasses, and as we stumbled along in our search for food we seemed to get no nearer to our longed-for goal. the situation was desperate. "two of our party, utterly worn out and exhausted, fell in harness, but with the greatest pluck again pushed on as soon as they had temporarily recovered. it was with a feeling of devout thankfulness that we crossed the last crevasse and secured some food. beyond a little tea we had had nothing for thirty-four hours, and previously to that our last meal consisted merely of one pannikin of half-cooked pony maize-not much foundation for work under such conditions, and with an extremely low temperature. under these conditions we marched sixteen miles in twenty-two hours. "on another occasion during that same journey we were all struck down with dysentery, and this at a distance of ninety miles from our depot. though the weather was fine, we were all too weak to move, but here, as on other occasions, providence came to our rescue, and strong southerly blizzards helped us along. "from december th, , to february rd, , we lived in a state of constant anxiety, intensified by more acute knowledge gained from narrow escapes and close contact with death. over and over again there were times when no mortal leadership could have availed us. "it was during these periods that we learnt that some power beyond our own guided our footsteps. if we acknowledged this--as we did--down among the ice, it is only fitting that we should remember it now when the same power has brought us safely home through all these troubles and dangers. no one who has seen and experienced what we have done there can take credit to himself for our escape from what appeared to be overwhelming difficulties." sir ernest shackleton also praises the conduct of his officers and men as helping largely to their success. he says: "we were all the best of comrades. every man denied himself, and was eager to do his level best." true scouts, all of them. * * * * * some famous victories through loyalty to leaders. trafalgar. the month of october is full of glorious national memories for scouts. on october st, , was fought the battle of trafalgar, when the british fleet, under admiral lord nelson, attacked and defeated the combined forces of french and spanish men-of-war. it looked almost hopeless for a small fleet to attack so large a one; but nelson made that grand signal which called on every man _that day to do his duty,_ and every man, like a true scout, did his duty, even though in many a case it cost him his life. nelson himself showed the example, for he drove his ship in between two of the enemy's ships and fought them, one against two. he never attempted to take cover, but exposed himself to danger as much as anyone, and was killed at the moment of victory. the sailors of to-day still wear a black silk neckerchief round their necks as a sign of mourning for the great admiral. * * * * * balaclava. then on october th, , in the crimea, in south russia, took place two grand charges by the british cavalry-against the russian cavalry. one of these, the charge of the light brigade, every boy knows about, but somehow the charge of the heavy brigade is not so much talked about, although it was equally fine in its way. i have been lucky, because i have served in two cavalry regiments, and both of them were in these charges one, the th hussars, was in the light brigade, and the other, the th dragoon guards, was in the heavy brigade. i don't mean that i was in the charges, too-no; i wasn't born then! but i am very proud to belong to two regiments that were there. hussar regiments are called light cavalry, because they used to have small, light-weight men who could ride far and fast to scout the enemy. dragoons were heavy troopers on big, strong horses, who by their weight and long swords could deliver an overwhelming charge upon an enemy. a brigade consists of three regiments. two brigades make up a division. so the cavalry division in the crimea was made up of a light brigade and a heavy brigade. on october th the light cavalry brigade got the order to charge the russian artillery, which was supported by the infantry and cavalry. it was a hopeless task. the order had really been given by mistake. but that did not matter to men who were accustomed to obey. they charged, and, though it cost them a great number of gallant lives, they carried out their duty with such bravery and dash as to command the highest praise even from their enemies, and they won for british soldiers the name of being ready to sacrifice their lives to carry out their orders, even though the job looked hopeless. that is why scouts to-day have as their motto the single word, "balaclava" to remind them that if they get an order which it is a bore or even a danger to perform, their duty is to do as their brave fathers did at balaclava, and carry it out cheerily and well. now i will tell you about the charge of the heavy brigade, * * * * * "the thin red line." you have often heard the british army talked of as "the thin red line." well, it got that title at balaclava. four hundred men of the rd highlanders and a battalion of turks were posted to guard the road leading to the harbour of balaclava, when the russians, some twenty thousand strong, proceeded to attack them. the turks didn't like the look of things, so they turned tail and bolted but the brave sir cohn campbell, who was in command of the highlanders, said to them: "my lads, remember there is no retreat from here. you must die where you stand." and the gallant fellows meant to do it if they had to die--but they were not the sort to say die before they were dead they formed a line--a "thin red line," as it was afterwards described--on a small rising ground, and received the first charge of the russian cavalry with so well-aimed and deadly a fire, at close range, that it put the others off charging for a while. the british commander-in-chief, seeing their danger, sent a message to the heavy brigade of cavalry, who were camped in the neighbourhood, to go to their assistance. the "heavies" were already parading just outside their camp, when suddenly there appeared over the rising ground, within half a mile of them, the head of a big force of russian cavalry quietly advancing towards them. rather a startling apparition when the squadrons were all moving out of camp to form up on parade. but the general--general scarlett--did not lose his head or hesitate for a moment. the enemy were on the left flank of the squadrons as they were moving out. he ordered them to wheel into line to the left, and, without the usual first orders to "trot" and then to "gallop," he directed his trumpeter to sound "charge!" and he at once turned his horse towards the enemy, and started, with his staff officer and orderly, at a gallop to lead the attack. "do or die." the brigade saw what was wanted. they did not wait to form into one line--that operation would have taken time--but each squadron wheeled up, and, closing in towards its neighbour, galloped forward to back up the general in the charge. the scots greys, in red tunics and bearskins, mounted on their grey horses, were in the front line with some of the irish inniskilling dragoons, and close behind them came the th dragoon guards and the st royal dragoons, with their red tunics and shining helmets. there were not more than three hundred of them altogether, while the russian column amounted to some twelve thousand. 'it looked as if the british must be smashed up by such overwhelming odds. [illustration: this sketch map stows the positions of the british and russian forces in the charge of the heavy brigade at balaclava.] but the general knew that he must do his best to save "the thin red line" from being overridden, and the men knew that they had got the order to "charge," and it was their business to carry out the order, and not to look at the danger in doing it. so they charged. the russians were not less astonished than the british had been; instead of surprising the british, they were themselves surprised. for a minute or two they hesitated. no officer gave any command, no one knew quite what to do, and in another minute the bolt burst upon them. general scarlett and his staff came--bang, _smash_!--right through their front ranks, followed immediately by the crashing weight of the greys and the wildly cheering inniskillings. the shock of this charge rolled the foremost ranks of the russians down underfoot as it ploughed its way into the centre of the column, and gave a sort of backward surge to the whole mass-for the russian force was simply a big, square mass of men and horses. our charge, being made by a very small body, only broke into the central part of the russian front, so the two flanks of their line wheeled forward like two arms to enfold it. but just as they were in the act of doing so they were caught by our second line of royal dragoons, th dragoon guards and inniskillings; and were rolled up and ridden over in an awful confusion. these heavy blows seemed to send the great russian mass staggering backwards, when at this critical moment two more squadrons of heavies, belonging to the th dragoon guards, suddenly plunged into the right flank of the russian column, and completed its break-up. it reeled again, and in a few minutes more was gradually melting and spreading over the hills behind in hurried flight from the battlefield. and the thin red line was saved. the whole fight had lasted only eight minutes, the british loss was fifty killed and wounded, while the russians lost about four hundred. this battle, like trafalgar and like many other british victories, showed that, with good, plucky leaders, backed up by men _who can be trusted to obey their orders,_ we could attack overwhelming forces against us and come out victorious every time. without discipline it could never have been done. * * * * * the loyalty of jack tars. sir christopher myngs was one of the tough sea-dogs of the british navy in the old days. he was killed in action at sea in . he had been wounded by a bullet in the throat, but he held the wound together with his fingers and went on fighting till a second shot struck him, and he shortly afterwards died of his wounds. he was a splendid leader, brave and strict, and beloved by his men. his body was brought ashore to be buried in london, and at the funeral a party of sailors came up to the carriage in which sir w. coventry sat, and the leader of them, with tears in his eyes, asked him to beg of the king to give them an old ship which they might use as a fire-ship, and with which they might sail into the middle of the enemy's fleet and set fire to it. they would, of course, all lose their lives in doing this, but they did not mind so long as they could avenge the death of their beloved leader. it was a fine spirit of loyalty to their chief which led these simple seamen to do this, and their loyalty--not the spirit of revenge--is an example to all to be loyal to their chief in whatever line they may be. don't look out for faults in him; note his good points, and stick to him through thick and thin, for the good of what you and he are doing together whether it is defending your country or running a big business. usefulness law . a scout's duty is to be useful and to help others. _and he is to do his duty before anything else, even though he gives up his own pleasure or comfort or safety to do it. when in difficulty to know which of two things to do, he must ask himself, "which is my duty?" that is, "which is best for other people?"--and do that one._ _he must be prepared at any time to save life or to help injured persons._ _and must try his best to do a good turn to somebody every day._ * * * * * do it now. once when driving in my car i passed a man on a sunny, dusty road, and i thought after i had passed him whether i might not have offered to give him a lift. then i thought probably he would be only going a short distance to some house a little farther along the road. as i sped farther and farther upon my way, i saw no house and no turning, and therefore i argued that the poor man would have to be walking all this dusty way when i might have given him a lift. but while i sat all this time thinking, my car was rushing me miles away from the spot. eventually i made up my mind that i ought to go back and do my good turn to the man. but i had gone so far that when i got back again to where i expected to find him, he was not to be seen. he had evidently taken some short cut across the fields, and i never saw him again. but the memory of it lingered in my mind for a long time, and ever since that, when driving along, i have been quick to make up my mind and use the opportunity when it has presented itself, of giving a lift to any weary wayfarer. i don't want to make out myself as being so very good for doing this kind of good turn, for that is easy enough with a motor-car; but what i do want to point out is that you should never let your chance go by, else you may regret it, as it might not occur again. your motto should be--"do it now." * * * * * good turns. always remember that in going through this world we only pass this way once, and if we miss our chance it never comes again. i believe that our first business in life is to be happy. this world with all its beauties and its sunshine of happiness was meant for us to enjoy. when clouds come over with grief or pain, they are only the contrasts to show us what true happiness is and to make us appreciate it when it comes. the shortest and most certain way to happiness is to make other people happy. even if we cannot make them happy, we can at least be helpful to them. but so often we forget to do this, or, as i did in the motor-car, leave it till too late, and let the chance slip by. in order to be continually happy, the thing is to be continually doing good turns. to get a habit you must at first carry out a great deal of practice, and that is why it is part of the scout law to do a good turn every day. at first it may come a little difficult to remember each day that you have this duty to do, and you may have some trouble in finding a job that will be helpful to other people but if you stick to it, and force yourself to do it day by day, it very soon grows into a habit with you, and you then find how many little things you can do which all count as good turns although small in themselves. i could tell you endless yarns of the different kinds of "good turns" which the boy scouts have done, but one of the most pleasing that i have heard lately was when a scout carefully placed a piece of orange peel on the pavement, and when asked why he had done this, said: "i am doing a good turn to some other scout by giving him the opportunity of doing his good turn by removing that orange peel so that people will not slip on it!" * * * * * "an awful accident." a poor fellow was lying pretty badly hurt when i came upon him one afternoon. his left leg was broken, and an artery in his right arm was cut through, while he was evidently badly burnt about the chest. how it all happened i didn't stop to inquire--i merely looked at the steps which had already been taken to doctor him. his arm was bound up with a handkerchief "tourniquet," twisted tight with a stick, to stop the blood squirting from the artery; his leg was bound between two straight bits of wood; and his tummy was covered with a mixture of wool, oil, and flour, which suggested that with a little more roasting the patient would have made a good pie! i need scarcely add there was not much the matter with him except that he belonged to a patrol of boy scouts who were practising "first aid." in the same troop another patrol were cooking a very savoury irish stew, mixing dough on a haversack (which, i think, is quite as good as my way of doing it inside my coat!), and baking bread in an oven made out of an old biscuit tin, and roasting "twists" made on stakes planted near the fire. (for "tenderfoots," anxious for details as to how these things are done, i recommend a study of the chapter on camp cooking in _scouting for boys_.) the point about this cooking was that the food was being really well cooked, and fit for anyone to eat with enjoyment. in the same troop signallers were at work sending and receiving messages. and also one of their horsemen was there to act as mounted dispatch rider, with a smart pony which he was able to saddle and look after as well as to ride. nearly every scout in this troop was a first class scout, of an average age of thirteen. two hundred yards from their little camp was another troop of younger scouts, of about eleven years of age. all were busy cooking their teas at numerous little camp fires at the time when i saw them, and made a most picturesque scene. then a third troop had its camp in a different spot, where three patrols of boys of about fifteen years of age were collected. fine, strapping, long-limbed types of britons. it was a pleasure to see them going "scout pace" across the grass, and a still greater pleasure when i found that they were as good scouts as they looked. nearly all were first class scouts. i was invited to hand out to them the efficiency badges they had been winning. these included quite a number of first class, cyclists', firemen's, musicians', electricians', cooks', etc. i had just said a few words to the troop of my pleasure at seeing them so smart and so efficient, when the alarm was given that the school buildings were on fire. a few brief words of command were given by the scoutmaster, and each patrol streaked off in a different direction at a great pace. we hurried to the scene of the outbreak, and had just time to see (in our mind's eye only) dense clouds of smoke with tongues of flame and showers of sparks bursting from the doomed building, while the windows were alive with terrified women and screaming children--that is what we were picturing--when out came a knot of scouts running the fire-hose into position, and joining it up from one part of the building, while from another there came a second patrol trundling along the great giraffe-like fire-escape. within four minutes of the alarm the leading fireman was up on the ladder directing the nozzle of the hose-pipe with a strong jet of water on the windows of the (supposed) burning chamber. it was all very smartly, quickly, and quietly carried out, and the patrols thoroughly deserved the firemen's badges which they had won. denstone college, where i saw all this, is one of the great schools which have taken up scouting as a sport and training for their boys; and the results, according to the masters who act as scoutmasters, are most satisfactory. * * * * * scouts' good turns. recently, all in the one day, i came across three cases of scouts doing their duty. one lady told me that when travelling in a crowded train she and her daughter were put into a carriage which was already crammed full of boys. she did not like it a bit at first, but she soon found the difference between "scouts" and "boys." these were "scouts," and they at once helped the ladies and their baggage into the carriage, and then made plenty of room for them by sitting on each other's knees, and kept order and behaved so nicely that she fell in love with all of them, and talked with them and found them "quite charming and gentlemanly." another lady told me that some scouts had asked leave to camp in her grounds, and as she has allowed boys to do this for some years past, she did not like to refuse them: at the same time she was not very glad to have them, because she had found it expensive and troublesome every year to have to get the camping-ground cleaned up and set right after they had gone. the day after the scouts had finished their camp, she sent as usual some men to work on the camp-ground, when to her astonishment, they came back and said there was no work to be done there, the ground was all clean, rubbish and ashes removed, and turf replaced. and then she remembered that these were "scouts," not ordinary boys, who had been camping there--and she will be glad to see them there again whenever they like to come! the weather this morning was beautifully hot and fine, but in the afternoon it suddenly changed to cold, windy, and steady rain. numbers of ladies and children had gone out for a day on the beach or in the country. in one case a woman and her two children had to come back part of the way in an open boat, and then in a steam-launch, in their summer clothes, without umbrellas or waterproofs. a scout who was there seemed to have foreseen bad weather, as he had two waterproof coats, and he gave up one and offered it to cover the children. "well!" you would say, "that is easy enough, and he kept himself dry and snug in the other." no, he didn't, he put that on the woman, and went and did the best he could for himself on the lee side of the deck; he put a smile on and pretended that a cold trickle down the back is a good thing for the complexion; and that is what any other scout would have done in the circumstances. * * * * * gallantry of boy scouts in helping the police. on different occasions i have had the pleasure of issuing silver medals to scouts for gallantry in saving life or assisting the police. scoutmaster crowther, of the huddersfield boy scouts, went to the assistance of a police constable who was being violently assaulted by some roughs in a slum. although he was knocked about himself in doing so, crowther managed to help the officer, and, by blowing his whistle, to get more police on to the scene. the principal offenders were arrested, and ultimately got six months' imprisonment from the magistrate, who at the same time highly complimented mr. crowther on his plucky action. scout p. l. g. brown, of the th (all saints) southampton troop, did much the same thing. he saw a police constable struggling with four violent roughs, and, although there was a hostile crowd round them, brown remembered his duty and dashed in to help the officer. although he got a kick on the knee, he was able to get hold of the policeman's whistle and to blow it, and in this way brought more police upon the scene, so that the four men were arrested and punished. brown himself went away without giving his name or making any fuss about what he had done, but he was discovered and later on received the silver medal. then, when i was reviewing the gateshead scouts, i heard of the case of two boy scouts being rewarded by the magistrate for their gallantry in assisting the police. the scouts of newton abbot were at hand when a motor-car dashed into a cart, smashing it up and injuring the two occupants. the scouts detained the car; and although the motorists endeavoured to drive off, they put their staves between the spokes of the wheels and hung on and prevented the car getting away until the police came up and took charge. it was splendid how these scouts showed such pluck and readiness in helping the king's officers. they got knocked about in doing so, but what are a few bruises? they wore off in a few days; but the thing that won't wear off is the satisfaction that each one of those scouts will feel for the rest of his life--namely, that he did his duty. * * * * * the scout of labrador. dr. wilfred grenfell is an ideal type of peace scout, and during his labours as a missionary in labrador he has had many adventures. on one occasion he had to visit a sick man at a place two days' journey from where he lived, and he started off with his sledge and team of dogs, to cross a frozen arm of the sea, which would save him a long journey round by land. but it was in the month of april, when the sea ice was beginning to get treacherous and to break up. the distance across the ice was about seven miles, with an island about half-way. he reached the island all right, and was pushing on from there to the opposite mainland, when he found that the ice was becoming rotten and soft--what is called "sish"--that is, pounded ice formed from big slabs which have been ground together by the action of the sea. as he found himself sinking in this, together with his sledge, he slipped off his heavy oilskins and coat, and quickly got out his knife and cut the traces of his dog-team, winding the leader's trace round his wrist. in this way he was himself pulled along by the dogs plunging through the slush. the leading dog got on to a solid ice-floe, and grenfell was gladly hauling himself up to him by the trace, when the dog slipped all his harness off, and his master was left, sinking among the other dogs in the "sish." then he luckily caught the trace of another, and pulled himself along that till he managed to get on to the block of ice, on to which he helped the rest of the dogs. but it was quite a small block, which would soon break up, so he saw that the only chance was to struggle on through the "porridge-ice" till he could reach a bigger floe, which could serve as a raft for him. he did not, as some people might have done, give up all hope; he wasn't going to say die till he was dead. so he took off his gauntlets and moccasins and packed them on to the dogs' backs, then he secured their harness so that it could not slip off, and tied the traces round his wrists so that the team would drag him through; then he tried to start. but the dogs did not like facing the danger, and he had to push them off the block; even then they only struggled to get back, till a particularly favourite dog understanding him when he threw a bit of ice on to another "pan" or block? started, and so led the others to get to it. in this way, dragging their master after them, the dogs struggled from pan to pan, till at last they reached one larger than the rest, about ten feet by twelve in size. it was not real solid ice, but a block of powdered ice, which might fall to bits at any time. still, it was the best they could get, and with the rising wind and current it soon floated with them on to more open water, and began to drift away from the shore and down the coast. so they had no choice but to make the best of a very poor substitute for a raft. the cold was intense, and poor grenfell, like a clever scout, at once thought out a plan for making himself a coat. his moccasins were long, soft boots made of sealskin reaching to the thigh, so he slit these up with his knife, and, by means of a bit of line, he made them into a kind of cape to put on his back. hours passed, and they kept drifting out from the coast, and night was approaching. then he saw that he must have more clothing, and also that he and the dogs must have some food the only thing to do was to sacrifice one of his beloved team. so he made a noose with one of the traces, and slipped it over a dog's neck, and tied it to his own foot; then, holding its head down in this way, he threw the dog on its back, and stabbed it to the heart. two more were killed in the same way. then he skinned them and stitched their hides together with thin strips of leather, and thus made himself a coat, with the fur inside. all the clothes he had had on till then were some old football things he had come across that morning in his house. a pair of football shorts and stockings of the richmond football club (red, yellow, and black), and a flannel shirt and sweater, so he was practically in boy scout's kit rather than what you would expect a missionary-doctor to be wearing. but then, you see, he was quite as much a scout as he was a doctor or missionary; and we understand from this story how, like a scout, he was able to turn his hand to anything and invent for himself the different means for saving his life although he was all alone with his dogs on a small lump of rotten ice floating past the coast of labrador. there was one little point in which, perhaps, a boy scout could have helped him had he been there. as darkness came on, he thought he would light up a flare, which would catch the attention of anyone on shore, so he frayed out a piece of rope and smeared it with the fat of the dead dogs, and was about to light it when he found that his matches had got wet, and in that damp air he could not get them dry. i wonder whether he thought of the scout's dodge of drying them in his hair for a minute or two? [illustration: dr. grenfell as he appeared on the ice-floe, with a cloak of dog-skins, and puttees made of flannel taken from a dog's traces. he used his shirt for a flag, and made a flagstaff of frozen dogs' legs.] in order to keep warm he used one of the dead dogs as a seat, with the other dogs hugged close round him for warmth. his feet being in thin moccasins, which easily got wet through, were freezing with cold till he thought of an idea for keeping them warm. he had seen the laplanders put a lot of grass into their boots before pulling them on, and then filling up the legs with as much more grass as they could cram in. there was not much grass growing on his ice-floe, so grenfell had to invent something to use in place of it; he cut from the dogs' traces some flannel with which they were lined to prevent chafing, and with this he stuffed the moccasins, and so made them warmer, and then bound the remainder round his knees as puttees. in this way he got sufficient warmth to enable him to sleep. towards morning he awoke with the idea that he must make something in the way of a flag to attract the notice of people on shore, and to show them that there was someone in distress on the ice. the question was, how to make a flagstaff? i wonder whether a boy scout could have seen a way? grenfell took the frozen legs of the three dead dogs, and bound them together with strips of raw hide, and thus manufactured a staff, on to which he then tied his shirt to act as a flag. it worked very well till the sun rose, and then the legs began to melt a little, and the flagstaff became a very wobbly one; and, as the doctor describes it, "almost tied itself into knots." like a true scout, grenfell never despaired; he kept thinking out different ways by which he might survive the danger. he thought of setting light to some unravelled rope by using a piece of ice to act as a burning glass. in this way he hoped to attract the attention of the people on shore by a smoke signal; but, while he was busy preparing it, he saw the distant sparkle of what looked like an oar from a boat, presently he saw it again, and soon he could see the boat itself. his flag had been seen by the fishermen, and they pushed out in their boat through the frozen ice till they got him and his faithful dogs all safely aboard. one man had seen him the night before just as it was getting dark, and had spread the news down the coast, so that all the time, though he did not know it, anxious eyes were watching him. the only difficulty was to get a boat through the mass of broken ice-floes and drifting ice, which covered the heaving surface of the sea between him and the shore, but pluck and strong arms did it. in the end his rescuers brought him safely ashore, where every man, woman and child in the settlement was on the beach to welcome him with cheers and--many of them--with tears of joy. doctor grenfell says that during the whole of this terrible experience he did not once feel fear. he felt that he would probably lie down and sleep his last sleep on that ice-floe; the thought did not disturb him very much. at the same time, he did feel something of that regret which comes to all people when dying, and that was the remembrance of how much time he had wasted (even he!) when he had life and opportunities for doing good for other people, and how he had let his opportunities slide by without doing so much as he might have done. so keep on doing good turns every minute whenever you can get a chance of doing them, and then when you are face to face with death, you will be able to say: "well, i did my best to do my duty. i did not waste much time on other things." * * * * * a plucky boy scout. it is not always in the field of action that scouts can show their heroism; sometimes it is at home or in their private life, where their deeds are not so much seen. here is a case: patrol leader leonard sanderson, of the st jesmond troop, met with a bad lift accident, and smashed his thigh. but even when in awful pain, and in the shock of the sudden accident, he made light of it for fear of worrying his parents. then he was for many weeks in hospital, and had to undergo several operations, but he was always cheerful and patient. many presents of fruit came to him, but, like a true scout he shared them with the other patients. he made toys for the sick children, and helped the nurses to roll bandages. he never forgot his duty as a scout, and proved himself a good example for others to follow. * * * * * a scout who was a scamp. "the boy who stopped the runaway horse would never have done it if he had not been a scout. he was formerly a first-class young scamp and always in some mischief." that is what the report says of him. but that is what happens when a lad becomes a scout; he is no longer a fool-boy, who goes about yelling aimlessly and making himself a nuisance to everybody. instead of that he smartens into a manly fellow, ready at any moment to give a helping hand to anybody who wants it, and without taking any reward for it, and without thinking how poor or rich, how old or young the person may be. i was talking once to a well-known nobleman, who told me that he broke his leg not long ago, and when it was getting right his doctor advised him to go and walk a little every day with two sticks to support him. he accordingly went to hampstead heath, and was waddling along quite comfortably, an inch at a time, when a patrol of scouts came up, and the leader saluted and said: "may we help you, sir? we could make a stretcher out of our coats and staves, and carry you." the duke said that when he looked at the boys and thought of them trying to carry him--for he is not a small man--he nearly laughed aloud; but as it was he thanked them very much and told them how he was walking purposely to get his leg into working order. this kind intention, however, has given the scouts a warm place in his heart. * * * * * tracking exercise. when i am walking along a road or path, i generally do a little tracking every day, because it is only by constant practice that a fellow can learn tracking or can keep his eye in when he has learnt it. it is quite easy and simple to do, only scouts often do not think of doing it. here, for instance, is what i did one morning. there is nothing wonderful in it, but scouts will understand all the better that such practice should be an everyday matter, and not merely attempted on some great occasion. it is bound to be a failure then if it has not been regularly gone in for before. my practice was on an ordinary country road, dry and hard, with a slight layer of dust in most places, up and down hill; between high hedges; no wind (wind, you know, soon flattens out tracks in dust and makes them look much older than they really are). at about eight o'clock in the morning, as i passed from one field to another, i crossed the main road at the point where it reached the top of a hill. i read some news on the ground, and this is what it said "_mrs. sharp is ill this morning; and johnny milne has been to the railway station to fetch some newspapers._" this was how i got at it. there were only two fresh tracks. one was of a boy walking and the other of a bicycle. the boy's footmarks showed a nailed boot, not big enough for a man, walking along the road which led to the school and to the railway station. it was saturday, a whole holiday, so he could not be going to school; he would therefore be going to the station. why to the station? because at . the train came with the newspapers, and there were his tracks going back again, (_they occasionally overtrod the outgoing footprints._) one boy in the village, johnny milne, was employed by the shop to fetch the papers from the train. so if the train were punctual he would have passed this spot on his way back about twenty minutes later; that was at seven minutes to eight. [illustration: "mrs. sharp is ill, and johnny milne has brought the newspapers from the station."] now, the bicycle track showed that the machine was ridden up the hill (_the track zig-zagged along the road, whereas if it had been running downhill it would have gone pretty straight_), the rider getting very tired (more _zig-zag_) near the top. there the bicycle had stopped (_sharp turn and slither of the wheels in the sand_), and the rider had got off to rest. it was a woman (_small foot, no nail marks, small, sharp heel_). she had stood a short time (_footmarks on top of each other_), and had then remounted and ridden on. she had passed this spot between . and ten minutes to eight. (_the bicycle tracks had passed over johnny milne's outgoing track of : , but his returning footmarks of ten minutes to eight overtrod the cycle tracks, so they had been made since it passed._) what lady would be cycling along this road at that hour of the morning? (_a rather stout lady, too, judging from the breadth of her foot and the fact that she had to rest on arriving at the top of the hill_.) the road led to a cottage where lived mrs. sharp, who was not very well. the lady must surely be mrs. clarke, the matronly district nurse on her bicycle going to see mrs. sharp and she was still there (_as there were no return wheel marks_). that is how a scout can read news from the ground, and, though this morning's news was not important, it is always worth while to practise reading, because some day you will probably want to pick up some important information, and it is only everyday practice that will enable you to do it. friendliness law . a scout is a friend to all and a brother to every other scout, no matter to what social class the other belongs. _if a scout meets another scout, even though a stranger to him, he must speak to him and help him in any way that he can, either to carry out the duty he is then doing, or by giving him food, or, so far as possible, anything that he may be in want of. a scout must never be a snob. a snob is one who looks down upon another because he's poorer, or who is poor and resents another because he is rich. a scout accepts the other man as he finds him and makes the best of him-- "kim," the boy scout, was called by the indians "little friend of all the world," and that is the name which every scout should earn for himself._ the arabs of the desert are some of the finest scouts in the world, not only because they are brave and manly fellows who can shift for themselves, but also because they are gentlemen at heart, kind to strangers, and men of honour. when you come to an arab encampment, he does not ask whether you are rich or lowly born. once you are within the neighbourhood of his tent, he expects you to be his guest, and while you are with him he will do everything that he can to protect you from your enemies. these kindly people, who always live in tents, have a habit of using very long tent ropes for the support of their tents, and these stretch out some distance on to the plain around their encampment. this is done in order that any stranger passing near will find himself within the arab's tent ropes--which means that he must come and be his guest. he expects you to stay with him for about five days, during which time he feeds you, houses you, and protects you, and he expects no kind of payment when you depart. one of his first acts when you come into his camp is to offer you water. this is partly in order that you may refresh yourself, but it is also a secret sign meaning that he will not betray you. it is considered bad form to decline hospitality offered in this way, and even if you are in a hurry you must suppress your own desire to get forward in order to be courteous to the man who wishes to be your host. the arabs have a saying, "none but the base and ungrateful refuse generosity"; but this does not mean that he will take a reward for being kind to you. to offer a tip is to insult him, and i hope that boy scouts will take it in the same light. if you pitch your tent near that of an arab, and become good friends with him, he will alter his tent-pegs so that they come within the line of your own and the tent ropes cross each other. this again is a secret sign which means that he and those who live in his tent are for ever friends of you and any who are living with you. arabs are honourable fellows, and may be trusted to stick to such understanding. one point in which an arab shows himself more of a gentleman than, say, the germans in south-west africa, is that he will never poison wells, even though he knows his enemy may use them. true comradeship does not take any account of what the other fellow's position in life may be. i remember that when i took a troop of boy scouts to canada, they all worked in pairs during the whole of the trip, and one of these pairs consisted of two boys who were respectively the son of an earl and the son of a sergeant in an infantry regiment. yet, although they had been brought up on totally different lines, they were boys, they were scouts, they were not snobs, and they were the best of pals. and we see very much the same thing at the front to-day, where, in the ranks of every battalion, are to be found men of every class and standing-- "cook's son, duke's son, son of a belted earl!" and so, too, between officers and men there is a splendid feeling of comradeship, each working for the other so far as he possibly can. and that is a result that the germans cannot possibly arrive at, for the one reason that they are not gentlemen. i hope to see this spirit kept up and strengthened by the scouts, and especially that rule which makes a scout a friend to every other scout, no matter what his class, creed, or country may be. i am certain that if this rule is carried out in full it will be a very great help after the war towards bringing real peace between the different nations, since the boy scouts in each will be true friends and comrades to those in the others. * * * * * doctoring the natives. a scout ought to know a little about most injuries and diseases, and to be able to treat them. in uncivilised countries the natives all look on a white man as a born doctor, and they bring you cases of every kind to deal with. when i was in kashmir, a lad was brought to me who had just fallen down a steep bank. he was in great pain, and his friends and relatives were already considering him as good as dead. on examination, i found no bones broken, but his right shoulder out of joint at the socket. so i told them to lay him flat on his back, and i began to take off my right shoe, or rather the grass sandal that i was wearing. some of the bystanders, seeing me do this, said: "oh! he is going to pray," and immediately began unfastening my other sandal for me. you see, these people take off their shoes when they go into church or to pray, just as we take off our hats. but i wasn't going to pray, and only took my right sandal off. then i sat down alongside the patient, facing towards his head, my right leg against his right side, so that my heel came into the armpit of the injured shoulder, i got one of his friends to sit on the other side of him to hold him down; then catching tight hold of his wrist with both hands, i gave a long, steady, strong pull at his arm, using my heel as a lever, till the shoulder suddenly clicked into its place again. such a nice feeling to me, just as if i had hooked a salmon! then he fainted. his mother howled? and said i had made a nice mess of the job, and had killed him. but i grinned and put on my sandal, and told her that was all part of the show, and that i would now bring him to life quite sound and well, which i proceeded to do by sprinkling a little water over his face. he gradually came to his senses, and then found that his arm was practically all right. his own astonishment and theirs was very great, and within half an hour my tent was full of fruit and chickens and eggs as thank-offerings. but during the next three days all the sick, the maimed, and the blind were brought in from the country round for me to cure. you never saw such a lot. men, women, and children with every conceivable ailment, including bad eyes, which i treated by bathing with warm weak tea. one poor chap had had half his face bitten off by a bear, losing his eye and the whole of his cheek, so that all his teeth were showing in a horrible grin--the more horrible because the wound had never been properly dressed. then one enormously fat man asked me to do something for him. now, what would you have done in such a case? i only had some lead lotion, some disinfectant, and a few mustard poultice leaves. so i gave him one of these mustard leaves, and told him if that wouldn't cure him i didn't know what would, and in saying that i was speaking the exact truth. i told him to wet it and put it on his "chest" when he went to bed. next day he came with tears of gratitude and said i had done more for him in one night than all the doctors had done for him in years. he felt that he was already growing thinner. i moved my camp twenty miles off that day, as i thought it better to get away while i had such a good reputation, and, besides, they were beginning to bring in patients from all over the district, and i had nothing to cure them with. but that is the kind of thing you may expect when you are travelling, and you should learn while you can how to deal with the usual ailments, so that you can be of some help to the poor creatures when you come across them. * * * * * the swastika. all the nations of the world have customs of their own, which bear a curious resemblance to each other. for instance, when a zulu has to undertake the dangerous job of crawling up to a lion, he likes to dress himself in his war-paint before beginning. that same sort of idea is to be found in other parts of the world. even in our own country, not one hundred years ago, our sailors, before going into action with an enemy, always liked to wash and shave themselves, tie their pigtails nattily, and put on their best neckerchiefs. and even now in canada the cree indians, when they are hunting a bear, put on their best clothes and decorate themselves before tackling the danger. [illustration: the "swastika."] so you see we are all alike in some ways in different parts of the world. if you sneeze in scotland people say: "god bless you." if you sneeze in masailand (british east-africa) a native will say: "good health to you!" there are hundreds of these little customs which are used by people in different corners of the earth who have never had anything to do with each other. but perhaps the most wonderful of all is the sign of the "swastika," which we scouts use as our "badge of brotherhood." nobody knows the exact history of where it came from, or what it means; but it is found in almost every part of the world, and is very, very old. rudyard kipling believes it was made by a man in ancient days, who put two twigs crossed on the ground and trod them down into the mud so as to leave a mark to act as a guide to others, like a scout's ground-mark. but another story is this: where the atlantic ocean now is, people in old days believed that there was a great land called atlantis, which has since sunk under the sea. this land was watered by four great rivers, which ran across the whole in different directions--north, south, east, and west. this cross is meant for the four rivers, and is the crest of the continent of atlantis. but whatever the meaning of it was, the swastika cross is found in all parts of the world as an ancient mark. thus, in norway it appears on the sword-scabbard of the ancient norsemen as a sign to bring good luck; also in iceland, germany, and france on old pottery. in the south it is found in west africa, in greece, and egypt. in the west it is found in america, in arizona, and mexico, and south america. and in the east in india, tibet, japan, china, and persia. thus, it stands for europe, asia, africa, and america--all the world; and it is, in each of them, considered to be a sign of friendliness and good wishes. that is how we come to use it in the scouts, whose business is to do good turns and to help other people wherever we may be. when, therefore, we want to show particular goodwill to anyone, especially those who have done us a good turn, we give to them a "swastika," or "badge of brotherhood," to wear. this makes them members of the brotherhood of scouts, although they are not actual scouts themselves; and when they show their badge to a scout he will do all he can to help them in whatever part of the world they may be. * * * * * our buttonhole badge. i expect most scouts have found, like i have done, that wherever you go in the streets, or in a strange town, or far out in the country, you come across a boy wearing a buttonhole badge. as you get nearer you see that it is the well-known three-pointed badge of the scouts. you make the salute sign, shake hands with left hands, and there you are, in company with a friend and brother, who a minute before was a total stranger to you. * * * * * chilian scouts. our world-roving commissioner--for we have one who travels about to all countries now--was once in chile, which, as you know, is a long, narrow strip of country in south america, three thousand miles long, and not one hundred miles wide, packed in between the andes mountains and the pacific ocean. the boy scouts of chile are among the best in the world. they have done a lot of tramping-camps and other expeditions. finally, their government arranged a cruise for them on board a man-of-war, and they lived for over a week on the ship, about two hundred of them, learning swimming, boating, navigation, engine-room work; in fact, all the duties of sea scouts. these boys all had to pay their messing and other expenses, so it was only the richer ones that were able to go; but since then they have arranged to go another cruise, and each of the richer ones is going to take a poorer scout with him as his guest, and will pay his expenses for him. that's what i like to see, and it tells me more than any other reports that the chilian scouts have got the right spirit in them. a lad from brixham, in devonshire, went out to take up some work in chile. he was a boy scout, and continued while away to wear his buttonhole badge. one day, when he was out in the back parts of that out-of-the-way country, a chilian boy came up to him, gave the scout salute, and pointing to his badge, said: "you boy scout? me scout too!" and he took him home to tea, and looked after him, and thus they became good friends. so you see the use of being a scout and of wearing your badge. even in everyday life at home it is also a good thing to do, because you may often have a chance of doing a good turn to a stranger boy scout if he could only recognise that you were a scout. i suppose there is not a day passes without my coming across a scout, in plain clothes, wearing his buttonhole badge and so i am able to spot him and to have a chat with him. whereas, if he had not had his badge on, i should probably never have noticed him. also, it is a sign to outsiders. people have got to know now how useful the scouts are, and they are often anxious to get hold of one to help them in some difficulty. well, if they see a boy coming along with the badge on, they know that he is a scout, though not in uniform, and they are able to ask him to do them the good turn. so wear your buttonhole badge for the sake of other people. politeness law . a scout is courteous. _a scout should be polite to all--but especially to women and children, old people and invalids, cripples, etc. and he must not take any reward for being helpful or courteous._ courteousness is much the same sort of thing as chivalry, which is closely allied to honour. both were practised in the old days by the knight's, who went about risking their lives in order to defend and help the weaker people, women and children, against bullies and marauders. why did they do this? it did not bring them money, for it would be a disgrace to a knight to accept any reward for doing a good turn. it only brought them danger of wounds or death. it was an adventure. they were good sportsmen and manly fellows. their conscience told them that it was right for the strong and plucky man to protect those who were weaker than himself. they were not obliged to do it by the law of the land, but there was a stronger law which appealed to them--and that was their own sense of honour which led them to be chivalrous men. honour was the _spirit_ that moved them; chivalry was the putting into practice what their honour bade them do. the ordinary boy has no chivalry--at least, he has got it all right under the surface, only he is in the silly-ass stage, and he forgets it. if he sees a poor hunchback or a cripple he will often laugh or stare at him. he forgets that the other is an unfortunate, and has had the bad luck to be born that way. a healthy boy on seeing a deformed person ought to thank god that he is himself sound in body and able to enjoy life, and he should do what he can to make things pleasant for his less fortunate brother. that, is what a scout would do, because he is chivalrous. * * * * * knight's oath on investiture a.d. . sir, you that desire to receive the order of knighthood, swear, before god, and by this holy book, that you shall not fight against the king, who now bestoweth the order of knighthood upon you; you shall also swear with all your force and power to maintain and defend all ladies, gentlewomen, widows, orphans, and distressed women; and you shall shun no adventure of your person in any way or war wherein you shall happen to be. fourteen hundred years ago the old knights of britain used to be sworn to do their duty in these words. their oath was much the same as the promise which the "young knights" of the present time make when they become boy scouts, for they promise to serve god and the king, and to help others, especially women and children, and not to think of their own trouble or risk so long as they do a good turn to others needing help. the knights, being mounted men, were called the "chivalry," the old word for "cavalry"--from the latin "_cavallus_" and the french "_cheval_," meaning a horse. then any noble act done by the knights was said to be "chivahous" or knight-like. so the word "chivalry" now means doing things which the knights of old did. it is chivalry to do one's duty to god and the king, to help women and children, and all people in distress; and to be plucky and brave in carrying out one's duty. that is why boy scouts are frequently being described in the papers as "chivalrous." i hope they will go on and continue to deserve the title. one great step in "courteousness" is to be grateful when anybody does you a "good turn," and to tell them you are grateful by saying "thank you." it is a little thing to do, but it is a great thing to the person who has done the kindness to feel that it was not thrown away. * * * * * a dirty gentleman. a bus drove by under my window. it was crowded with people, inside and out. on the outside every seat was filled, so much so that one woman had to stand. i saw men look round at her, one apparently annoyed because she accidentally jostled his newspaper, but none offered to give her his seat. they were most of them well-to-do men, such as go by the name of gentlemen so far as their dress and appearance went but when it came to the true test of a gentleman, that is, the feeling of chivalry and politeness to women, the only gentleman among them was a working boy, a lad of about fifteen, in dirty clothes, with dirty hands and face. when he saw a woman standing he at once left his seat and beckoned her into it. i hope that some of his so-called betters had the good sense to feel ashamed at being taught manners by a working boy. perhaps he was a scout. at any rate, he acted as a scout would in the same circumstances. * * * * * what is a gentleman? many people are inclined to think that the word "gentleman" means a man who was born rich, and that a boy brought up at expensive schools and colleges must therefore be a gentleman when he has grown up. but this does not always follow. a fellow who is lucky enough to have been brought up in that way has certainly better chances of being a gentleman than many a poor boy has; but at the same time a poor boy can be just as good a gentleman as a rich one. a gentleman is what the word says; he is a man, but a gentle man, not a rough, bullying, coarse customer, but a fellow who, though big and strong, can be kind and chivalrous and helpful to other people. as good a sample as any of a "gentleman" is the london policeman. he is at all times courteous and helpful to others, even to the extent of being ready to risk his life at any moment to save people in cases of accidents, or to protect them against rough handling, and he treats rich and poor, old and young, with equal attention and patience, and good humour. * * * * * scouts of the desert. several years ago i spent, some time with arabs in north africa, in tunisia and algeria, and i found them first-rate fellows, they were very fond of any kind of adventurous sport, and were hospitable and courteous. numbers of them used to come out with their dogs to help me to find game, and after a long day's beating in the thorn bush and high grass, when we finished hunting, they used to shake hands and go off home, quite happy if i had had a good day, and not expecting or seeking for a tip or a reward as is so generally the case, i am sorry to say, in england. men here seem to think that they ought to be paid for every blessed thing they do. the arab chiefs, too, were kindly hosts, they gave me the best of food, generally a sort of irish stew of chickens and rice, and made me comfortable in their own tents at night under their blankets. they are very clean people, very brave, very courteous and very honourable. so they are true scouts of the desert. they have a number of little camp customs which scouts ought to know--and many of them are like those practised by scouts. arabs are always very strict in saluting each other. the custom of saluting came, as you know, from the old times, when everybody carried weapons, and the act of raising the right hand on meeting another man was meant to show that you had not got a weapon in that hand, and were therefore a friend. it is exactly the same to this day with the zulus and other south african tribes, who carry clubs and assegais; on meeting each other they pass their weapons into the left hand, and raise their right to show that it is empty, and that therefore they don't mean to fight you. so it is, too, with the arabs. if a horseman meets a man on foot, the horseman salutes first, because he is in the more powerful position, and it is only fair that the man on foot should therefore have his weapon ready till he knows that the mounted man is friendly. in the same way, if a man is sitting down and another walks up to him, the man who is walking is in the better position for attacking, so he salutes first to show that he is friendly. it is very bad form to pitch your tent close to the water supply of the camp, because it looks as if you were taking possession of the spring, and that anyone else wanting to use it would have to get your permission or be liable to be attacked by you when getting his water. so an arab always pitches his tent at some little distance away from the spring or well, in order to show that it is free to all. when an arab comes to a strange camp he rides up to the largest tent and dismounts., and walks straight to the fire around which the inhabitants are sitting. he then says in a loud voice: "peace be with you." all those sitting round the fire get up and reply: "and with you, peace." kindness to animals law . a scout is a friend to animals. _he should save them, so far as possible, from pain, and should not kill any animal unnecessarily, even if it is only a fly, for it is one of god's creatures. killing an animal for food, or an animal which is harmful, is allowable. it is a curious thing that animals and children both seem to recognise a good man when they meet him, and are at once friendly with him; and i have always found that the bravest men are in their turn kind to them. you must have noticed how our soldiers at the front and our sailors in the fleet all seem to have their pet animals and mascots, and when i was in france i noticed on many occasions our men playing with the little french children among their ruined homes close up to the firing line. they were all the best of friends: although they knew scarcely a word of each other's language. in the same way as a knight or a boy scout is chivalrous to weaker folk, so he is chivalrous also to animals. animals are weaker folk than ourselves in the matter of mind and understanding, but they can be very affectionate and faithful where they have learnt that the human being, though strong _enough to_ hurt, them, is kind and gentle. they are quick to show that they appreciate such kindness. you know how your own dog half-curls himself round wagging his tail and grinning with pleasure when he sees you; and also how your horse nuzzles you all over to find the sugar that he knows you are going to give him. so give animals all the kindness you can, and make their lives happy. many boys are inclined to be cruel simply because they don't think--they are not yet manly enough--they are, as i said before, in the silly-ass stage. but a scout who is manly and chivalrous towards people will at all times be the same towards animals. it is wonderful what pleasure you can get out of it in return, whether you train your dog to obey your slightest sign, or whether you tame a robin to be your friend. the other day i came across a proprietor of a garage who showed himself to be a good and kindly man because he had supplied the scout troop of the town with a loft to use as a club-room. but he proved to me that he was a good man by taking me into his sitting-room and showing me his tame canary, which did every kind of trick at his command, and sang to him, answered his whistle, and came at his call and kissed him. apart from the interest of training an animal in confinement, there is all the fun and adventure to be got out of stalking and watching animals and birds in the wild and learning their ways and customs. the more you do this, and the more you understand about how they are made and how they do their various works, the better you will understand the wonders of nature and of the creator. * * * * * the right way to go birds'-nesting. a man who studies birds is called an ornithologist. mark twain, the amusing yet kind-hearted american writer, says: "there are fellows who write books about birds and love them so much that they'll go hungry and tired to find a new kind of bird--and kill it. "they are called 'ornithologers.' "i could have been an 'ornithologer' myself, because i always loved birds and creatures. and i started out to learn how to be one. i saw a bird sitting on a dead limb of a high tree, singing away with his head tilted back and his mouth open--and, before i thought, i fired my gun at him; his song stopped all suddenly, and he fell from the branch, limp like a rag, and i ran and picked him up--and he was dead. his body was warm in my hand, and his head rolled about this way and that, like as if his neck was broke, and there was a white skin over his eyes, and one drop of red blood sparkled on the side of his head-and-laws! i couldn't see nothing for the tears." "i haven't ever murdered no creature since then that warn't doing me no harm--and i ain't agoing to neither." a good scout is generally a good "ornithologer," as mark twain calls him. that is to say, he likes stalking birds and watching all that they do. he discovers, by watching them, where and how they build their nests. he does not, like the ordinary boy, want to go and rob them of their eggs, but he likes to watch how they hatch out their young and teach them to feed themselves and to fly. he gets to know every species of bird by its call and by its way of flying; and he knows which birds remain all the year round and which only come at certain seasons; and what kind of food they like best, and how they change their plumage, what sort of nests they build, where they build them, and what the eggs are like. a good many birds are almost dying out in great britain, because so many boys bag all their eggs when they find their nests. birds'-nesting is very like big-game shooting--you look out in places that, as a hunter, you know are likely haunts of the birds you want; you watch the birds fly in and out and you find the nest. but you do not then go and destroy the nest and take all the eggs. if you are actually a collector, take one egg and leave the rest, and, above all, don't pull the nest about, otherwise the parent birds will desert it, and all those eggs, which might have developed into jolly young birds will be wasted. far better than taking the eggs is to take a photograph, or to make a sketch of the hen sitting on her nest, or to make a collection of pictures of the different kinds of nests built by the different kinds of birds. aberdeen, in scotland, is supposed to be specially well off for skylarks for the following reason: a few years ago there came a very severe gale and snow-storm late in march, and all the high ground inland was so buried under snow and ice that the birds were all driven to the lower land near the coast. the fields by the seashore were covered with them. numbers of people went out to catch them with birdlime, nets, snares, and guns. large numbers were taken alive to be 'sent to market' in london and other towns. one gentleman found a man selling a big cage full of them. they were crowded up to a fearful extent, and all fluttering with terror at their imprisonment, struggling over each other in their frantic desire to escape. he felt so sorry for them that he bought the whole lot, and took them to his warehouse, where he was able to give them plenty of room and food and water. then he offered to buy all the larks that were being captured for the market at market prices. in this way he received over a thousand; and these he put in a big room, where they had comparative freedom and plenty of food. it is said that the noise of their singing in the morning was almost deafening, and crowds of birds used to gather over the house to hear them. at last the bad weather passed off, the sun shone out again, and the fields became green and bright, and then the kind man who had housed the birds opened the windows of the room and all the birds flew out in a happy crowd, chirping and singing as they mounted into the bright, warm air, or fluttered off to the adjoining fields and woods. and there they built their nests and hatched out their young, so that to-day the song of the lark is to be heard everywhere round aberdeen. * * * * * birds' nests. one january i went "bird's-nesting" with a party of scout-masters. it seems an odd time of year to do that; but we really went to see how they manage to persuade birds to come and make their nests in the bird sanctuary, near brentford, just outside london. we went into the big wood there, and soon found ourselves in the presence of birds, for everywhere one could hear the piping, trilling, and whistling of unseen warblers, and every now and then one of them would flit across our path. then, on the side of almost every tree, we noticed a small box, entirely closed up except for a small hole in the front. these were the "nesting-boxes," and every spring the birds come and make their nests in these boxes, and bring up their families. the consequence is that the place is now alive with singing birds. the son of mr. mark webb, the manager of the sanctuary, is in his teens, but he knows everything about the birds that come there and their ways, and he also knows all the different kinds of plants and trees that grow in the wood. he is a very complete stalker-scout, and evidently gets a lot of fun and satisfaction out of watching the birds and their doings. well, almost any scout can do the same, and my advice to you is to make a nesting-box or two as soon as you can, and put them up on trees. then, at the proper time, you may have the satisfaction of seeing some rare kind of bird coming to your box and raising a family there. the box should be eight to ten inches high, by six wide and deep, and the top preferably sloping to run any rain off. [illustration: a nesting-box for birds.] the door is a small round or pear-shaped hole near the top of the box, so that there is plenty of room for the nest below it. a little ledge for the birds, and especially the young ones, to rest upon, is a good thing to have on the front of the box. if possible, paint your box roughly with dabs of green and brown to make it match the tree stem and leaves, and put on it the name of your patrol and troop if you like. then fix it to a tree trunk about six feet above the ground, where it is safe from rats or snakes, and on the side of the tree farthest from the path, if there be one near, so that the birds will not be frightened by passers-by. if it is on the sunny side, so much the better. birds will build in almost anything which offers them safety and shelter; an old kettle, for instance, or an old tin pot is a favourite site for a nest. if you scatter a few crumbs or grains of corn about your box every day at first, the birds will become accustomed to it, and will soon adopt it as their home. any scout who has not a tree of his own to hang his box on can probably get leave to put it up, if he asks nicely, in some neighbour's wood or garden, or in a park, and can then visit it from time to time to see how it is getting on. most nesting-boxes have their roof, or front, on hinges, or made so that it can slide off; but it does not do to examine the nest when once it is made, or the old birds will desert it. * * * * * bird migration. the movements of birds as they change their quarters still puzzle the naturalists. it is marvellous how they seem to like travelling, and no one can understand why they take certain paths through the air when they are doing it. for instance, the black pool warbler, in america, spends its summer in alaska, and goes down to south america for the winter. it takes the straightest course it can from alaska to brazil, flying over land and sea--and a wide sea, too, is the gulf of mexico. but the cliff swallow, which also spends the winter in brazil and the summer in north canada, takes quite a different route, and goes an extra miles in order to avoid going over the sea, and follows the land all round by panama, nicaragua, honduras, guatemala, mexico, and so through the united states. the distances which birds cover when "migrating" are enormous. some american plovers are known to travel for miles, one part of the journey being miles without resting as they pass over the sea. the arctic tern goes even farther, it nests near the north pole, and then makes its way down to near the south pole, a journey of , miles. perhaps you wonder how we know that the birds travel these long distances. well, a good many naturalists and stalkers catch birds when young or tired and mark them by putting a small ring round their leg with a number on it. then other naturalists keep a look out in other parts of the world, and when they kill or find a bird with such a number on it they report it. aberdeen university marked a large number of birds in this way--with a tiny aluminium ring round the bird's leg, with the words "aberdeen university" and a number on it. a wild duck which they had marked in scotland was caught in a net the same year in holland. of five lapwings marked in aberdeenshire, four were shot in ireland the same year, and one in portugal, miles away. a song-thrush was also shot in portugal, which had been marked in scotland the same year. a young guillemot was taken from its nest in aberdeenshire and marked, and less than five months afterwards it was shot in sweden. so, you see, it is interesting to watch in this way what the birds do in the travelling line. scouts can help in keeping a look out, and if ever they capture or hear of a bird marked with a ring, they should report it to professor a. thomson, the university, aberdeen. they should state the number on the ring, the kind of bird, where found, and the date on which it was found. * * * * * studying animals. the boar is certainly the bravest of all animals: he is the real "king of the jungle," and the other animals all know it. if you watch a drinking-pool in the jungle at night, you will see the animals that come to it all creeping down nervously, looking out in every direction for hidden enemies. but when the boar comes he simply swaggers down, with his great head and shiny tusks swinging from side to side; he cares for nobody, but everybody cares for him; even a tiger drinking at the pool will give a snarl and sneak quickly out of sight. i have often lain out on moonlight nights to watch the animals, especially wild boars, in the jungle, and it is just as good fun as merely going after them to kill them. and i have caught and kept a young wild boar and a young panther, and found them most amusing and interesting little beggars. the boar used to live in my garden, and he never became really tame, though i got him as a baby. he would come to me when i called him--but very warily; he would never come to a stranger, and a native he would "go for," and try to cut him with his little tusks. he used to practise the use of his tusks while turning at full speed round an old tree stump in the garden, and he would gallop at this and round it in a figure of eight continuously for over five minutes at a time, and then fling himself down on his side, panting with his exertions. my panther was also a beautiful and delightfully playful beast, and used to go about with me like a dog; but he was very uncertain in his dealings with strangers. i think one gets to know more about animals and to understand them better by keeping them as pets first, and then going and watching them in their wild, natural life. but before going to study big game in the jungles, everybody must study all animals, wild and tame, at home. it would be a very good thing if every scout kept some kind of animal, such as a pony or a dog, birds or rabbits, or even live butterflies. every boy scout ought to know all about the tame animals which he sees every day. you ought to know all about grooming feeding, and watering a horse, about putting him into harness or taking him out of harness, and putting him in the stable, and know when he is going lame and should not therefore be worked. * * * * * chivalry to a sheep a lady was walking on the sussex downs with her old father, who was an invalid. suddenly, she saw below her a number of sheep penned in, as they often are, for the night. two large dogs had got among them, and the bodies of two dead sheep told of the mischief already done, while the other frightened sheep were huddled together, waiting for their turn to be attacked. the lady did not know what to do; she did not like to leave her invalid father alone while she went down, and it was far too steep a descent for the latter to attempt. just then, round the corner came five scouts, quite small, the eldest being only thirteen years old. they soon took in the situation and advanced to the fray. when the dogs saw them, they left the sheep and rushed, barking, at them, and the scouts fled. but only for a minute! a council of war was held, and again they advanced, poles in hand, and this time succeeded in driving off the dogs. the last the lady saw was the plucky little patrol kneeling, with their coats off, round a poor sheep on the ground. after that, she left, feeling the sheep was in good hands. in a few moments the sheep revived, its temples were laved with water, some of which it also drank and enjoyed. still, it was beyond standing alone, and what was to be done next? a stretcher was made with the poles and coats, and then came the difficulty of getting the heavy body on to the stretcher. at last this difficulty was overcome, and the procession started over the rough field to the farm, two miles off. at last the farm was reached, and the scouts, after helping the farmer render further, and perhaps more useful, first-aid, started on their journey homeward. this is an absolutely true story. what would have happened twenty years ago had five town boys seen those dogs at work destroying sheep? they might perhaps have run away, possibly to seek help, but i am none too sure that they would not have looked on and rather enjoyed it, merely thinking what a good story they would have to tell their comrades on their return home. scouting has not only taught boys what to do in an emergency, but it has taught, and is teaching, our small boys the meaning of love and kindness to other human beings and also to animals. * * * * * lord nelson at a bull fight. the following is what lord nelson wrote about a bull fight which he went to see in spain: "the amphitheatre will hold , people, and some , were present. ten bulls were selected, and one brought out at a time. three cavaliers on horseback and foot men with flags were the combatants. we had what is called a fine 'feast,' for five horses were killed and two men very much hurt; had they been killed it would have been quite complete. "we felt for the bulls and the horses, and i own it would not have displeased me to have seen some of the dons (spaniards) tossed by the enraged animals. "how women can even sit out, much less applaud, such sights is astonishing. it even turned us sick, and we could hardly go through it; the dead, mangled horses and the bulls covered with blood were too much. we have seen one bull feast, and agree that nothing shall ever tempt us to see another-" this is what nelson, the hero of many a grimly fought battle, has written, and it shows how even a man accustomed to the sight of blood and death can be horrified and disgusted at it when it is done as a form of sport and at the cost of pain to dumb animals. scouts should always remember this in dealing with animals, and have the same feeling which that prince of sea scouts, nelson, had. * * * * * a good young scout. i met a young patrol-leader going along in a hurry, evidently on duty. so i asked him where he was off to, and he replied that he was going to call his patrol together--there are only three in it at present--and to get three more tenderfoots to join it at once, as they had serious work on hand. i then found out from his father that the serious work was this: the patrol had come across a lot of boys torturing some frogs by blowing them out with straws. the scouts were not strong enough to stop them, but they went to the police constable, and asked if they might take the law into their own hands and "go for" these boys. the policeman consented, and now they were going to raise their patrol to full strength in order to tackle the torturers, and put a stop to the cruelty to the frogs. i heard afterwards that they were successful. obedience law . a scout obeys orders of his parents, patrol-leader, or scoutmaster without question. even _if he gets an order which he does not like, a scout must do_ as _soldiers_ and sailors do, _or_ as _he would do if he got it _from _his_ captain _in a football match--he must carry it out all the same, because it is his duty; after he has done it he can come and state any reasons against it: but he must carry out the order at once. that is discipline_. * * * * * play the game. suppose you were playing outside forward in a football match, and you were on the ball with a good opening for a run before you, when you suddenly heard your captain shout "centre!" what would you do? go on with the ball, or pass it to a centre player? you would, of course, obey the captain's order and pass it. why? because you know that if every fellow played the game for his own fun and glory, his side would never win--the team would be all over the place. to prevent this, each player has got his certain allotted place in the field, and the captain, who is best placed for seeing how the game is going on, is able to give directions that will help his side to win. of course, the success depends on every player doing his best to carry out his captain's orders efficiently and well. it is not only in football or hockey that this system brings success, but in every game of life. we see it just now on a very big scale at the front--in the great game of war--where men obey their captains' orders not only when it is inconvenient to them to do so, but often when it means danger and death to them. but in doing it they well know that, though they are sacrificing themselves, they are helping their side to win; and that is the right, spirit in which to play the game of life. therefore, even in small things, get yourself into the habit, of obeying orders whether or not you like doing it. if you can thus make a practice of it in small everyday matters like obeying your parents at home, or your patrol-leader when scouting, obedience will come quite natural to you in the bigger duties of life, and you will then be looked upon by both your comrades and your officers as a really valuable man--one who can be trusted to play in his place and to play the game in obedience to the rules and to his captain, not for his own glorification but in order that his side may win. * * * * * british discipline. when gibraltar was being besieged a hundred and thirty years ago by the french and spaniards on land and sea, the british troops holding the place stuck it out valiantly for three long years, and were in the end relieved by the fleet from home. but though there were many who wanted to give in and were dead sick of the whole thing, general elliott, the commander of the garrison, showed such dogged determination, and insisted on such strict discipline, that he held the garrison together. his measures for defence were so successful that every man realised that the real road to safety and success was strict obedience to his orders. in fact, it was a case where obedience won the day. and they loved and admired the old general, too, for his pluck, his humanity, and his sense of humour. on one occasion a man ventured to disobey an order that was given to him, and when he was brought before the commander the general said that if a man could disobey an order at such a critical time he could not be in his right mind, he must be mad. therefore he ordered that the usual treatment accorded to a lunatic should be applied to the offender. his head was to be shaved, he was to be blistered and bled, and kept in a padded cell on a light diet of bread and water--and also be prayed for in church. well, the general was quite right. if a man cannot obey orders when there is danger to all he must be mad. but it is difficult for a man to be obedient at such a time if he has never learnt to be obedient in ordinary times, and that is why discipline is so strongly kept up in both the army and navy in peace time. a man is taught to obey even the smallest order most carefully and without hesitation, until it becomes such a habit with him that when an order is given him, a big or dangerous one, he carries it out, at once without any question. and, when everybody can be trusted to obey orders, it is an easy thing for the commander to manoeuvre his troops and conduct the battle with some chance of success. you remember the story which i told you in _scouting for boys_ about the ship _birkenhead_, on board of which discipline and obedience were so splendidly shown by the soldiers. the ship was carrying about soldiers, with their families, and seamen. near the cape of good hope one night she ran on to some rocks, and began to break up. the soldiers were at once paraded on deck half-dressed as they were, just out of their hammocks. some were told off to get out the boats and to put the women and children into them, and others were told off to get the horses up out of the hold, and to lower them overboard into the sea, in order that they might have a chance of swimming ashore. when this had all been done, it was found that there were not enough boats to take everybody, and so the men were ordered to remain in their ranks on the deck, while the women and children, with a few men to row them, moved off from the sinking ship. the boats had not gone far when the ship broke into half and began to go down. the captain shouted to the men to jump overboard and save themselves, but the colonel, colonel seaton, interrupting the captain ordered the men to stand where they were, and to keep their ranks, for he saw that if they swam to the boats and tried to get in they would probably sink them too. so the men kept their ranks, and as the ship rolled over and sank, they gave a cheer and went down with her. out of the whole on board only were saved, but even these would probably have been lost had it not been for the discipline and self-sacrifice of the others in obeying the order to keep their ranks and not to try to get into the boats. so you see the value of discipline in a difficult crisis or moment of danger. the great duke of wellington, who was commander-in-chief of the british army, when describing this heroic act on the _birkenhead_, praised very highly the discipline of the men--he did not praise their bravery. it was brave of them, but he considered that all britons are naturally brave--he expected bravery of them. but discipline is another thing; it has to be learnt. in battle or in a big danger a brave man may be very useful, but if he does pretty much as he pleases he is not half so valuable as the man who, besides being brave, has also learnt, to obey every order at once. watch firemen at work. they are all brave enough; they would all like to be at the top of the ladder fighting the flames, but their discipline makes them work at their different jobs, each playing in his place, obeying orders, and doing his share in order that the fire may be put out, not that he should win special glory or excitement for himself. even in the streets there is discipline. the policeman regulates the traffic so that all vehicles moving in one direction keep to one side of the road, and thus allow the traffic in the opposite direction to keep moving along the other side. but if one 'bus-driver did not feel inclined to obey orders, but dashed about in his own way, not caring to which side of the road he went so long as he went ahead, there would be accidents and delay in no time, and the whole traffic would be upset. if you are in business with a large number of others, it is useful for the good of the whole that you obey the orders which you receive from those who are in authority over you. if the seniors can be sure that their assistants will carry out their orders, they can carry on the business properly. discipline is necessary everywhere, but the thing is to learn while you are young to carry it out in small things, so that you would be able to do so when it comes to your turn to do it in a great difficulty or danger. in order to do this you have to be able to command yourself in the first place. the soldier does not go into a battle because he likes it. it is a dangerous place, and he feels inclined to run away; but he commands himself, and says "i must go whether i like it or not, because it is my duty." when he gets his orders from his officers to attack the enemy, he would probably be more anxious still to go in the opposite direction, but he commands himself and says: "i must obey the orders of my officers." and the officers obey the orders of the general, and so the whole force moves everywhere to the attack simply from a spirit of discipline, each man making himself do his proper share, so that although he may lose his life, yet his side may win the battle. so it will be with you every day. you will have your duty to do, when often you would much rather do your pleasure, or play some games; but you have to command yourself and order yourself to do your duty in the first place, and amuse yourself afterwards. when you succeed in doing this, and in always obeying the orders of your officer readily and cheerily, in small things as well as in great things, you will soon find that it becomes a habit with you and not a trouble, so that when the time comes for you to carry out some difficult and dangerous order you will be able to do it at once, without any hesitation and with complete success for the good of your side--that is, for the good of your business, your employer, or of your country, without thinking of the difficulty or danger to yourself. with a scout, your "_duty_" is to do a good turn to somebody every day. your "_discipline_" makes you command yourself to carry this out, even though it may be irksome or dangerous, and though nobody is there to see you do it. you do it because it is your duty and you are trusted, on your honour, to do it. * * * * * a disobedient scout. i once had a brave scout in my force in the south african war. he was a brave man and an active scout, but he was not good at obeying orders, and in the end this cost him his life and did harm to our plans. we had news of a force of the enemy which did not know of our presence in that part of the country. so we hid ourselves, meaning to surprise and capture them when they came along. the orders were that not a sound was to be made and not a man _was_ to show himself, and these orders were faithfully carried out--except by this one scout. he thought he knew better than others, and he slipped away unseen to go and look out for the enemy's approach. presently he spied a hostile scout and fired at him; the enemy's scout returned his fire, and after a short duel both of them fell mortally wounded. but the noise of their shooting gave the alarm to the enemy's force; more came upon the spot, and, finding a british scout there, they naturally guessed that there must be more in the neighbourhood, so they took all precautions, sent out scouts in all directions, and then, coming on our tracks, at last discovered our hiding-place, and gave warning to their own side, who were then able to make their escape. if my scout had only learnt, when a boy, how to obey orders, it might have made a great difference that day to him, to us--and to the enemy. * * * * * scout text. here is a text which will help scouts to discipline themselves: chew gum if your jaws want exercise. that was the advice given by a "self-made merchant to his son." he meant, don't exercise your jaws by talking if you have nothing important to say don't talk for the mere sake of talking; and, above all, don't argue when you get an order. boys, you know, are rather fond of asking endless silly questions. before speaking you should think first whether what you are going to say is really necessary or not, and then don't waste words or other people's attention if it is not. if you _must_ keep your jaw wagging, our american friend says "chew gum." * * * * * the silent king of ashanti. in the expedition to ashanti, on the gold coast, west africa, when we captured the king, prempeh, he was carrying in his mouth a kind of nut which looked like big, fat cigar. we found that he did this to prevent himself talking too much. if he felt inclined to make some meaningless remark, or in the heat of an argument to let out a hasty opinion, he could not do so without first having to take this impediment out of his mouth, and that gave him time to think twice about what he was going to say. i often think it would be a good thing if every nasty-tempered fellow had to carry such a nut in his mouth, so that when he wanted suddenly to let out a volley of abuse it would give him time to think and stop it. * * * * * shouting scouts at wimbledon. i heard of a lady who, when riding on wimbledon common, came across a party of boy scouts. she discovered their whereabouts by the immense amount of jabbering that was going on; so, being the wife of an officer, and knowing a good deal about scouting, she rode up to the scouts, and told them just what i should have told them, that unless you practise keeping quiet at all times, you will forget to do so on some important occasion, and so will give yourselves away. scouts should always talk low and quietly, and also should always move quietly and lightly. remember on a still day or in the night a heavy, thumping footfall can be heard a long way off, even in open country, and very much more so in a street or in a house. so practise always treading lightly and silently, and you will soon gain the scouts' habit of moving unheard. i have heard from an officer at the front, who regrets that two old scouts whom he had with him have been killed or wounded. he found that ordinary soldiers would not move quietly at night, and so were useless to him. he has now got an ex-burglar as the next best thing to an ex-boy scout! cheerfulness law . a scout smiles and whistles under all difficulties. _when he gets an order, he should obey it cheerily and readily, not in a slow_, hang-dog _sort of way. scouts never grouse at hardships nor whine at each other, nor_ swear _when put out, but go on whistling and smiling. when you just miss a train, or someone treads on your favourite corn--not that scouts should have such things as corns--or in any annoying circumstances, you should force yourself to smile at once, and then whistle a tune, and you will be all right. the punishment for swearing or using bad language is for each offence, a_ mug of _cold water to be poured down the offender's _sleeve by the other scouts. it was the punishment invented by the old british scout, captain john smith, three hundred years ago_. when i was encamped with my troop of scouts at humshaugh, northumberland, a gentleman living in the neighbourhood invited us to come and visit the castle in which he lived. it was a beautiful old tower left much in the state in which it was when it formed one of the border defences against scotland. on the top was the fighting platform from which the archers fired their bolts and arrows, and the gunners fired their culverins. on the storey below were the rooms in which the family lived, and below these again were the guardrooms of the men-at-arms. on the ground-floor was the cattle stable into which the herds were driven for security when the enemy were around. the portcullis which closed the gateway was still in existence, hauled up and down by means of ropes over pulleys of which the levers were worked on the floor above. in later and more peaceful times, that is in the reign of james i, a house was built on to the tower to give more room to the inhabitants. in the hall of this house was a noble fireplace above which there was an elaborate overmantel of carved oak illustrating the seven christian virtues. there were little statues representing fortitude, benevolence, faith, etc., etc., all the qualities which a good christian should possess and carry into practice. but i felt, after looking at them all, that there was still one virtue missing, and i suggested to the boys that you might carry out all these seven good qualities of a christian without doing it to the best effect. you might carry it out as an order to be kind, to be helpful, to be chivalrous, and so on, but if you only did it because it was an order, and therefore did it grumpily, half its value was lost. the important point is that when you know what is the right thing to do, you should jump to it and do it cheerily with a smile. therefore i thought that we scouts might add one more to these seven christian virtues--namely cheerfulness. then there is another good reason for being cheerful. have you ever noticed as you walk along the street how very few people look really happy? they are going along often with downcast eyes, and nearly always with dejected, serious countenances; if one comes along who looks at you smilingly it is a great relief, and makes you feel a bit happier yourself. and _there_ is a reason why a scout should go about with a smile on, because it makes other people happy. you may not always feel cheerful yourself, but you should not show this, as it will make other people feel glum, too. if you make yourself look cheerful, you will gradually find that you are becoming brighter. if you are troubled or anxious, or in pain, force yourself to smile. it will be difficult at first; still, force yourself to do it, and you will find to your surprise that your trouble is not so great as you thought it was. i have known men in action getting very anxious when great danger overshadowed them. but if one began to laugh and to talk cheerily, or to whistle, the cloud passed by and everybody bucked up and was ready to face the situation. that is what makes our men so formidable in the war just now. in spite of heavy losses, in spite of overwhelming attacks against them, they have always kept up their spirits and therefore their pluck. it has often been the secret of their being able to hold their own, and it will be the secret of their coming out victorious in the end. remember this--and i have found it come true in hundreds of different kinds of cases: "a difficulty ceases to be a difficulty directly you smile at it and tackle it." * * * * * the scout's smile. during one of my visits to birmingham, i saw a rally of the local scouts. one thing that struck me about them, besides their good work, was their cheerfulness. the outside of their programme had printed upon it portraits of eight of their smartest scouts, and each one of these has a big grin on. well, that is what i like to see; fellows who can work, and work cheerily. it is just what our men are doing at the front. i saw a letter the other day from an officer describing how the men lived a miserable existence crouching in the trenches, always wet and cold and muddy, being shot at and shelled all the time, but they welcomed the shells as if they were friends, giving them the nicknames of jack johnsons, black marias, woolly bears, etc. he says of the men: "if i were asked what struck me most, i would say that it was the marvellous cheerfulness of the men living in such awful circumstances. every one to a man seemed happy. they are always ready for a joke, and they see fun in everything." and that is why we shall succeed in this war, because our men see the bright side of it, and take things cheerfully and hopefully, even in the worst circumstances. it is also the way to succeed in peace time when doing work or suffering hardships or disappointments. * * * * * fighting from a chair. [illustration: keep your eye on the dog.] one bit of advice i gave to the birmingham scouts was that, if ever you run a race with a dog, keep your eye on the dog, and don't look about at other things. i myself was an example of "how not to do it," for i had had a race with my dog--i was running in shorts--and he saw me looking round and promptly ran between my legs and threw me over. so i had to go to birmingham on two sticks with a bandaged knee. but what is true of a dog race is true of any other competition in life. when you start out to do a thing, keep your attention fixed on what you are doing, and do not let it wander off to other things, otherwise you may come a cropper. it is a bit of a handicap to go about inspecting scouts with one leg out of action, but still i was only carrying out the example of other scouts. there was rob. miller, a scout at whitby, who, when he lost a leg through a german shell, was quite cheery, and wrote to me that he felt it an honour to be the first scout wounded whilst on duty, and that he meant to go on scouting notwithstanding the loss of a leg. another scout who lost his eye through a toby tenderfoot fooling with a gun wrote to say that he could go scouting just as well with one eye as with two. that is the spirit of the scouts. in addition to these, i had a fine example in a namesake of mine, major h. g. powell, out at the front. he had left the army some ten years ago, but when the war broke out he went back to his old regiment. in advancing to an attack he sprained his ankle badly. however, he got a stick and a chair from a neighbouring cottage, and continued to hobble along at the head of his men, sitting down whenever there was a halt and directing their operations from the chair. he went on doing this until he himself was hit and badly wounded, and he was able to be carried safely back still sitting in his chair. [illustration: a cheery old scout.] * * * * * how to live long. i suppose none of you scouts who read this are cheerful, happy fellows! [i don't think!] but if you should happen to want to live to be years old, here is the way to do it--written by one who has done it: "_be cheery, and work hard!_" that is what mrs. rebecca clark, of high road, wood green, said a few days before she died, and she was years old, so she ought to know. i think that most scouts are doing exactly what she recommends--so in a.d. there will be , old fellows of over years of age, skipping about in bare knees and worn-out hats, singing: "boys, be prepared!" * * * * * the only bad thing. mrs. scoresby routledge, a well-known lady explorer, wrote to me once to say that while travelling in the pacific she came across scouts in all sorts of unexpected places. after giving them a good character, she added that the only bad thing about scouts was that they whistled. she pointed out that a great many people already suffer from the noises in the streets of our towns, especially people who are ill and weak. even small, harmless noises "get on their nerves," and keep them from resting. and whistling is one of these dreaded noises. i hope scouts, in going about the streets, will think of this, and tone down their whistling, as a good turn to people who may possibly be disturbed by it. at the same time, i need not remind you that it is good to whistle and smile in a difficulty, when otherwise you might break out into curses, or into a cry of pain or of panic, or take to your fists (or your heels), according to what might be happening to you. i have known fellows whistle in very bad times in action, and their whistling has not only kept them calm themselves, but has also made those around them feel calm and cheery, too. * * * * * an ancient inscription. at timgad in algeria there are some interesting ruins, among them being those of the theatre and the baths. the theatre is a huge open-air one of horse-shoe shape with stone seats rising like steps above each other, and with a row of private boxes at the top. the stage is a handsome one built of stone with fine marble pillars, and a back wall--for the romans did not make use of painted scenery as we do--and behind the stage are the dressing-rooms for the actors. the theatre itself was big enough to seat spectators, which is more than most theatres in london could do, and as timgad was merely a country town of no very great size it shows that the romans were as fond of theatrical plays as the english are of cinematograph shows to-day. they were equally fond of bathing, and in this one town alone there were twelve public baths. they were what we call turkish baths, that is, there were bathrooms of several grades of heat to be gone through--one tepid, the next warm, the next one very hot, and then cooler and cold, and the romans were fond of taking these baths every day. this is too much of a good thing, as it is apt to weaken a man. the romans, as you know, were in the end driven out of their empire, because they allowed themselves to become weak in mind and in body by too much laziness in theatre-going and continual hot baths. one inhabitant had inscribed on a stone in timgad what he thought to be the best form of happiness. he wrote: "_to hunt, to bathe, and to laugh--that's the way to live_." and there is a good deal in what he says, for in hunting you have to use much woodcraft and hard exercise, and keeping clean and being cheery is all part of the scout's life. but he has forgotten to mention one very important thing towards making your life a happy one, and i expect that any scout could tell me at once what that point is--couldn't you? he has left out the happiness which you get from doing a good turn. if he had slightly altered his sentence, and had put it this way: "_to scout, to bathe, to do a good turn, and to smile--that is the way to live and be happy_," he would have said the truth, and he would have exactly described what every boy scout does. * * * * * don't stand with your back to the sun. this is one of the scout mottoes. every scout knows that when you examine footmarks on the ground, you should generally do so facing the sun, have them between you and the light, and you will see them all the better. but that is not the meaning of this text; it has a second and bigger meaning. it means that when there is any sunshine or brightness possible, look out for it when you are in trouble or misfortune, and make the most of it. if you feel inclined to grumble at your lot because you have damaged your leg and can't play in a game of football, think of other poor cripples who never can play at all. however down on your luck you may be, remember there is a bright lining to every cloud. there is some brightness somewhere, if only you look out for it and don't turn your back on it. when things are looking their worst, and everybody is depressed, make up your mind that you, at any rate, will be hopeful. try to see where there is hope. remember st. paul said that god was the "god of hope." hope gives you pluck and comfort at a bad time, and your hopefulness will comfort others round you and nerve them to stick it out. * * * * * lord roberts. lord roberts died the best death that could have been hoped for him. he died in the field, within the sound of the guns, doing his duty for his country even at the age eighty-two. it was very many years ago that i first got to know him. it was at simla, in india. i had just joined the army, and was enjoying myself in all the glory of my new uniform at a ball. i had gone to the refreshment-room to get something for my partner, but i could not make the native waiter understand what i wanted, as i had not at that time learnt any hindustani. a very small but very polite officer alongside me kindly explained to the servant what i wanted. then he said to me that if i wanted to enjoy india i ought to learn the language as soon as possible. i should get much more fun out of the country if i could talk to the natives. and he asked me my name and where i was staying. after thanking him, i thought no more about the matter till next day, when there arrived at my house a native teacher of languages, who said that sir frederick roberts had sent him to give me some lessons! thus, like everybody else, i began my acquaintance with him by heartily liking him. he had gone out of his way to do a kindness to a young officer of whom he knew nothing. but that was just like him--it was his way. i need not tell you about his early career in the army. probably every scout knows how, in the mutiny in india in , lieutenant roberts won the victoria cross. he had charged with the cavalry, and had followed the flying mutineers, when he saw one of them attacking a loyal native cavalryman. roberts at once dashed to his rescue and cut down the sepoy. as he did so, he saw two more sepoys making off with a regimental flag; so he pushed on after them, although single-handed and alone. he seized the standard and cut down the man who held it. the other man aimed his rifle at him, close against him, and pulled the trigger but the gun failed to go off, and the man turned and fled for his life. in lord roberts made his famous march in afghanistan, from kabul to relieve kandahar, which was besieged by the afghans. he took ten thousand men and marched the miles in twenty-two days, which was a splendid performance in that difficult, mountainous desert. he arrived in time to relieve kandahar and to inflict a very heavy defeat on the afghans. for his splendid victory here he received the title of lord roberts "of kandahar." in he was commander-in-chief of the british forces in the boer war in south africa. here again he displayed his self-sacrifice and determination. his winning of the victoria cross had showed that, though a very small man--he was very nearly rejected from the army because he was so small--he had great pluck. and he also had a great heart. his pluck and self-control were perhaps better proved by his bracing himself up to send men to their death in battle when he loved them and would gladly have saved them if duty and the good of the country were not at stake. and it was in south africa that he met with the sorrow of his life, when his only son was killed in trying to save the guns at the battle of colenso. for his gallantry on this occasion young roberts was awarded the victoria cross, although he was dead. it is seldom that the victoria cross has been won by both father and son. in south africa lord roberts again did me a kind act by riding out many miles to meet me on my coming into pretoria after the siege of mafeking. on his return to england after that war, lord roberts became commander-in-chief of the british army. when the boy scout movement began, he took the greatest interest in it, because he was always fond, of boys and knew how useful to the country they might be if only they were trained to it. so he came on the council of the scouts' headquarters, and he reviewed the scouts at a big empire day parade in hyde park. when i went to stay with him, he talked of little else but the scouts; and the scouts at ascot, who were raised and organised by his daughter, lady aileen roberts, miss their great friend. the ascot scouts formed part of the guard of honour which escorted his body through that place on its way to burial in london. at st. paul's cathedral i was glad to see also a guard of honour of scouts, who had come to pay their last respects to our national hero. lord roberts was a splendid example for any boy to follow, because he rose from small beginnings to the highest position in the army and, what is more, to the highest position in the admiration and affection of all his fellow-subjects of the king, whether they were white or coloured. and he did it all by his own merit, though he was not extraordinarily brilliant or clever as a lad. how did he manage it? i think it was largely because he was a true scout in every sense of the word. the things which brought him success were: his pluck in facing every kind of difficulty or danger with cheery hopefulness. his eagerness to work hard and to do his duty regardless of whether it was what he liked or wanted to do. his honesty and straightforwardness, which made everybody trust and believe in him. his humility, by which he put himself on equal terms with everybody; he had no kind of "swank" or pride, in spite of his brilliant successes. his kind-heartedness and thoughtfulness for others, especially those at the bottom of the ladder. and that was one of the secrets of his success--those working under his orders worked like slaves for him because they loved him. his simple faith in god, which led him true and straight through every difficulty. well, when you come to look into it, you will see that by doing these things in his daily life lord roberts was exactly carrying out the scout law. it is what you as a scout are already aiming to do. so, now that you have his great example before you, all you have to do is to go ahead and stick to it, with all the greater determination that you will make yourself, like lord roberts, a cheery, brave fellow and a valuable man for your country. thrift law . a scout is thrifty. _it is expected that a scout will save every penny he can, and put it in the bank, so that he may have money to keep himself when out of work, and thus not make himself a burden to others; or that he may have money to give away to others when they need it_. there are many boy scouts to-day who will in a few years' time become very rich men although they have not much to begin with. that is a certainty, because a good many are determined to make their fortunes, and if a lad begins by being thrifty he generally succeeds in the end. a fellow who begins making money as a boy will go on making it as a man. some fellows, of course, want to do it by easy means, and that as a rule does not pay. some fellows see a fortune in betting on a horse race or football match; you may win a few shillings now and then but you are absolutely certain to lose half the time, and it is a fool's way of trying to make money, because the bookies who make a living by it trust to there being a sufficient number of fools to keep on betting and supplying them with money. such money is not earned, it is only gained by chance and therefore is not worth having--to a fellow with manly ideas. any number of poor boys have become rich men, but it was because they meant to from the first. they worked for it and put by every penny that they earned in the bank to begin with. lots of boys are already at work doing this, and i hope that very many of the boy scouts are also at it. two good rules are given for making your fortune. the first is "_spend_ less _than you earn_." the second is "_pay ready money, and don't run into debt_." many of you probably have heard of the nasmyth steam hammer which is used in all the great iron works? well, nasmyth, as a boy, worked in his father's workshop, and used to spend a great deal of his spare time in a neighbouring iron foundry, and he took to using tools and making all sorts of models of engines, etc., just as you boy scouts who are working up for your engineer's badge might do. he made one model steam-engine so large that a man bought it for the purpose of driving a machine tool in his factory, and so he began to make money by selling his own home-made engines. and finally he went to work at a big engineering shop because he felt that he was one of a large family and that his father could not afford to keep them all and he was resolved to make his own living. he could not afford to have his food cooked for him on the small pay that he got as a boy at the works, but he manufactured his own cooking-stove and found that with its help he was able to live on ten shillings a week. he worked so well in the shop that the manager raised his wages to fifteen shillings a week. but as he had found that he could live on ten shillings, he put by the extra five shillings each week in the bank, and all the time he kept making tools for himself in his spare hours, and eventually started himself in business on his own account with his own money and his own tools, and finally invented his celebrated steam hammer. by the time he was forty-eight, he had made a big income and quite a fortune. many men would not have been content with this, but would have gone on until they became millionaires. but nasmyth did not, he was content to retire from hard work with sufficient money to buy a happy home, where he went in for making telescopes and studying astronomy and also in doing good turns to people not so well off as himself. and he gave some good advice to young fellows wanting to make a success of their lives in the following words: "if i were to try to compress into one sentence the whole of the experience i have had, and offer it to a young man as a certain means of bringing success in whatever position he holds, it would be this:'_duty first, pleasure second_,'" "i am certain from what i have seen that what so many call 'bad luck' comes in nine cases out of ten from putting that maxim the other way round and satisfying your pleasure first and attending to work and duty afterwards." one poor man, a farm labourer, made himself rich by writing poetry. his name was stephen duck, the thresher poet. but unfortunately numbers of other working men, seeing his good fortune, also thought it would be an easier way of making money to write poetry rather than by doing hard work, and horace walpole, when writing of duck, said., "that he succeeded as a poet, but he also succeeded in ruining at least twenty good workmen." there are very few young men who have not at one time or another in their lives thought themselves splendid poets. i hope this will be a warning to them, and that they will take to hard work as a means of making their way in the world. * * * * * the man who "stuck to it." lord strathcona began life as a poor boy in scotland and he ended up by being one of the richest men in britain, and, not only the richest in money, but in having also the admiration and affection of a vast number of his fellow-countrymen. when he was eighteen, as plain donald smith, he went out to canada and joined the hudson bay trading company there. this company used to buy fur skins from the trappers and indians, and their trading stations were built in far-off, out-of-the-way places in order to be near to the hunting-grounds of these people. also, as you never could trust the red indians, they were all fortified posts, ready for defence against attack. young smith was sent up to a place called mingan, right away up in the north-east of canada, in labrador, a cold, bleak, dreary country. after he had been there some time, his eyes began to give him great trouble, and he feared he was going blind. there was no doctor nor anyone else to consult, so he started off to make his way down to montreal to see a doctor. he took with him as guides two half-breed indians. for weeks he toiled through the awful wilderness, among snow and blizzard, but at length he reached montreal. do you think they made a hero of him? not a bit of it. his employers rounded on him for quitting his post without leave, and told him to go back at once. at first he felt--like many of us would have done--so angry that he was on the point of throwing up the whole thing and leaving the service of the hudson bay company. but on second thoughts he felt that, after all, the managers were right. they had put him there to have charge of valuable stores and important work, and that it was his duty to stick there, and not to come in to civilised parts for his own sake. so he accepted the wigging, and started back on the long, dreary journey to his gloomy post in labrador. he had luckily been able to see a doctor, and had got his eyes put right. it was an awful journey: so bad that the two guides gave way under their hardships and died. but again donald smith _stuck to it_, and struggled on, and in the end he just managed to get to his post, worn out and exhausted. but that sticking to it was exactly what was the secret of his success. for thirteen _years_ he stuck to his job in that awful country and then his employers saw that he was so strong on doing his duty that they promoted him to higher and more important work, till in the end he became chief factor or head manager of the company. then came the idea of making the canadian pacific railway right across canada. people said it was a mad scheme; that it could never pay to make a railway into that vast wilderness which in those days had not been properly explored. but donald smith looked far ahead, and saw the time when britain would be overcrowded with people, and corn-growing, cattle-raising land would be needed for colonists. so he put his savings into the railway and worked hard to make it a success. everything seemed to go against it. but he _stuck to it_, and fought against all difficulties, until in the end he _came_ out successful. and to-day the canadian pacific is one of the greatest railways in the world, and has opened up canada to be a great country, peopled by thousands of british colonists. and so he made his fortune, and later on, in return for his splendid work for the empire, he was made lord strathcona. most men leave off work when they are between sixty and seventy, but lord strathcona did not. he still continued to _stick to it_ for twenty or thirty years longer than most men. only a few days before his death he was at work in his office (and he died at the age of ninety-four). and in his office every day he _stuck to it_, for he went there about eleven in the morning, but seldom left before seven--often he was there till nine. when all the neighbouring offices in victoria street had turned off their lights and closed their doors for the night, lord strathcona's window was to be seen still brilliantly lit up, so much so that the policemen and others about there called it "the lighthouse." now, why should a man go on working overtime like that? he was not making money; he had enough of that and to spare. it was simply because he considered it was his duty, and he _stuck to it_. besides his adventures in canada, and besides his power of sticking to his duty, lord strathcona was also a good scout, because he was kind and helpful to others. * * * * * money is not everything. for the south african war he paid the expenses of raising a regiment to fight for the king--and a fine regiment it was, too--of mounted men, which was called after him "strathcona's horse." also the boy scouts owe him a debt of gratitude, because in the early days of the movement, when we were struggling to get along, he gave pounds to me to help to start our brotherhood. so boy scouts owe much to lord strathcona for that, and for setting a real living example of how a man should _stick to it_ in doing his duty, and in being kind and helpful to others. from these stories of poor boys who have made successes of their lives and become rich men i do not want you to think that i look upon money as the aim of your life. you should only wish to gain sufficient money to put you in a position where you can live happily into old age if necessary, and bring up a family without calling on other people to support you. and i would tell you just one more story of a poor man who yet made a fortune other than that which money produced. this man was john pounds, and he kept a little cobbler's shop in portsmouth, where he worked hard and well, so that people began to bring their boots to him for repair in preference to any other cobbler, because they knew that he did honest work and they got a better return for their money. soon he began to gather in much more cash than was necessary for his modest wants. but he did not buy a big house and set himself up in comfort. he did a better thing than that. when he was at his work, idle boys used to come and hang around his shop watching him busily employed, and while he stitched and cobbled he chatted with the boys and took an interest in them. boys are good fellows, and when they found somebody thought about them, although they were dirty, ragged urchins, they took an interest in him, until gradually they came at their own desire to hear him talk, and began to imitate him in doing steady work. then he made use of his savings in a way that was better than feeding himself on good things, for he fed these boys who badly wanted a good meal. as time went on, he started a sort of club or school for his ragged friends, and in the end had a sort of scout troop of boys who learnt handicrafts under him and became strong with their good feeding, became good workmen under his instruction, and saved up money under his example. thus he was able to send out into the world a number of good, strong, prosperous workmen who would otherwise have drifted into being wasters. and from his little effort in portsmouth sprang up similar ragged schools and boys' clubs in different parts of the kingdom. so he did as much by his thrift as many have done by saving their millions. * * * * * how a poor boy became rich. "how can i ever succeed in becoming great and rich? it is impossible. i am only a poor boy!" that is what a lad said to me. i was able to restore him to greater hopefulness by saying: "nothing is impossible if you make up your mind to do it. many a great man who is alive to-day began as a poor boy like yourself, with no help besides his own wits and pluck." then i told him about sir william arrol. at nine years of age he went to work as a "piecer" in a cotton factory. a few years later he became apprenticed to a blacksmith. he worked hard and well, and was very steady, so that at the age of twenty-three he found himself foreman in messrs. laidlaw's boiler works in glasgow. like a scout, he was thrifty, and in five years of this employment he saved up pounds of his wages, and with this sum he started a business of his own. at first he made boilers and girders, and then, as his business grew bigger, he took up bridge-building. steadily he worked at this, being at all times anxious to show good solid work, without any scamping. to start with he had met with disappointments and failures, but he would not give in to then; when things looked their worst he kept a smiling face and _stuck to it_. and in the end he came out successful, as every man does who is patient and sticks it out. he got a name for steady, persevering work, and for giving full value for any money paid to him. for these reasons he obtained good contracts for building bridges, and soon enlarged his business into a very big one. among others, the great tay bridge and the bridge over the forth in scotland are his work. he died a rich and highly respected man, but in the height of his power he never forgot that he began as a poor boy, and he always did what he could to help other poor boys to win their way to success. he used, however, to say that success depended mainly on the boy himself. if a boy were determined to get on, and knew a handicraft or two, he would probably succeed, but if he merely dabbled in one thing and then another, and wasted his time in amusements, and could not stick it out when luck seemed against, him, that boy would be a failure, and would probably go on being a failure all his life. * * * * * thrift is manliness. so you see if, as a scout, you pick up and really practise what scouting teaches you, it gives you every chance of being a success in life, since it teaches you to be active and enduring, to be trustworthy, to be obedient to your duty, to be thrifty, and to learn handicrafts. in fact, it teaches you to be prepared to make a successful career for yourself if you stick to it. the knights in the old days were ordered by their code of rules to be thrifty, that is, to save money as much as possible in order to keep themselves and not to be a burden to others, and that they might have more to give away in charity. if they were poor, they were not to beg for money, but had to make it by their own work. thus, thrift is part of manliness because it means hard work and self-denial, and boys are never too young to work for pay, which they should put in the post office savings bank or some other government security. cleanliness law . a scout is clean in thought, word and deed. _decent scouts look down upon silly youths who talk dirt, and they do not let themselves give way to temptation, either to talk it or to do anything dirty. a scout is pure, and clean-minded, and manly._ when boys are getting big, they generally want to show off and to impress other boys with their "manliness"--or at least what they think is manliness. it generally begins with smoking. they think it fine to smoke, so they suck and puff at cigarettes, partly because these are cheap, and partly because a pipe would make them sick. the reason why half of them do it is because they are arrant cowards, and are afraid of being laughed at by the other boys if they don't do it. they think themselves tremendous heroes, while in reality they are little asses. then they like to use swear words because they think this makes them appear tremendously ferocious and big. also they think it the height of manliness to tell smutty stories and to talk dirt. but these things don't say much for the boy who does them. he generally curls up and hides them directly a man is present. he only produces them for swanking in the presence of other boys, this shows that he is not really very proud of his accomplishments, and the boy who has a sense of honour in him knows at once that such things are against his conscience-law and he will have nothing to do with them. this often puts him in a difficult position when among boys who are showing off, as they will be ready to jeer at him; but if he has honour and pluck--in a word, if he is a true scout--he will brave it out and, as a result, he will come out the only real man of the party. the probability will be that though they do not show it at the moment, some of the others will see that he is right and that they are wrong, and will pluck up courage themselves and follow his example in being clean and straight. if, by his conduct, a scout can in this way save one fellow, he will at any rate have done something in the world. you may think there is no harm in a little joking of a risky kind, or in the occasional secret smoking of a cigarette, although you allow it may be silly; but if you look into it, and especially when you have, later on, seen results such as i have seen that come of it, you will at once understand there is great harm--great danger in it. it is the beginning; and the beginning of anything is very often the important point. if you talk or listen to what is wrong, you get to think about what is wrong and very soon you get to doing what is wrong. by doing things which you would not care to do before your father or mother, you are becoming a bit of a sneak. you do these things secretly, you are not straight. a fellow who is not straight at starting is pretty sure to go on being crooked for the rest of his career. he knows all the time in his inmost heart that he is a sneak, and he can therefore never take a pride in himself and others are bound to find it out sooner or later, so he never gets a real friend nor a good employer. then these things are likely to do him bodily harm. smoking is poison to a growing lad. it may not do you much harm if you take to it when you are grown up; but while you are still forming your muscles as a lad it is almost certain to do damage to your heart, your wind, your digestion, and very likely your eyesight and teeth. i take it that most boys want to be good healthy runners and able to play at all the games, and i am certain that every scout wants to be prepared to be a good healthy man for his country. well, you can't do it if you begin by smoking as a boy. drinking begins, like everything else, in a small way; but it very soon grows on a fellow unless he is on the look out to stop it. more than half the crime in great britain is due to drink, and so is most of the poverty, and three-quarters of the insanity. and it is much the same with thoughts about women; they soon grow into wrong action, and if these are kept up they grow into habits which lead in an awful number of cases to misery, disease, and madness. brace up! be a man! keep off these dangers. if fellows around you are swanking in dirt, leave them and go elsewhere. don't let yourself begin loafing about, taking drinks, talking smut, or doing what you know is wrong; give yourself bettor things to do--games, handicrafts, good turns, work, and you will grow up a clean, straight, and happy fellow, and, what is more--a _man_. * * * * * manliness is not dirtiness. not long ago there was a lot of argument about certain music-halls in london. many people were disgusted at the low and dirty talk or hints made by some of the performers. most of these rotten ideas of half-dressed women, dancing about trying to look pretty, come from abroad, and do not really please the ordinary british man. harry lauder is delightfully funny, but he is funny without being dirty, and so is chevalier, the coster singer. dan leno made you laugh, but he was never dirty--and that was why he and these other singers have been so popular. i saw a performance not long ago, where a half-dressed woman came and danced about on the stage, but, though she was tremendously advertised as the great attraction of the place, she got very little applause. soon after her there came a bright-looking girl in ordinary clothes, who merely sang an english ballad, but she was cheered and applauded till she had to come on again and sing a second, and even a third time. i believe that the proper, manly britisher likes a good clean show on the stage; he likes to have a good hearty laugh, or to hear good music, but i believe it is only a very few (and those nearly all slackers and wasters) who care to go and see the nasty, half-indecent shows which come sometimes from other countries. * * * * * the order of the bath. in the old days when being made knights, members of the order of the bath used to go and take a bath as part of the ceremony. i was very glad to see in hull during a visit there that at the boys' club every boy on coming into the club has a bath. in the first room he comes into on entering the club he takes off all his clothes and puts them in a rack made for the purpose. then he goes into a big warm plunge bath, from which he goes into a drying-room, and beyond this is a dressing-room, where he gets a club shirt and pair of shorts to wear for the evening, till it is time to get into his own clothes to go home again. [illustration: british soldiers surprised the french natives by their eagerness to have a wash, even on icy cold mornings.] this daily bath is an excellent thing for keeping a fellow healthy and strong--and the most important part of it is the rubbing with the towel. well, it is often difficult for a scout to get a bath. sometimes in his home there are no means for doing it, and often out on the veldt or desert there is very little water, but if he has a towel, especially a damp one, he can always give himself a good rub down with it--he should scrub himself well all over! and that is what i should like every scout to do every morning when he gets up. it will not only keep him clean, but will make him grow far more healthy and happy and strong, because it cleans the skin and wakes up the blood so that it rushes through his veins and brings him health. so get yourself a towel, every scout; and carry out your rubbing every day when you get up. in the same way see that you clean your teeth regularly night and morning--not because it will help you to pass the time away, but because it will prevent your teeth from getting rotten, thus saving you from toothache. * * * * * spitting. "gentlemen _do_ not spit; men _must_ not spit" is a notice which may be seen in an american city; also there is a similar one which says: "if you _expect to rate_ as a gentleman, don't _expectorate_." on the steamships to south america the english passengers were often disgusted by the amount of spitting about the decks done by some of the foreigners on board. one of the captains thought of a good idea; he ordered a sailor, carrying a mop, to follow each of these foreigners where-ever he went; whenever the foreigner spat, the sailor used the mop, and in a short time _all_ the foreigners learnt that if they behaved like other gentlemen and did not spit, they were spared having an attendant with a mop, so they soon gave up the dirty habit. when i was in charge of a public building in malta, which was guarded at night by maltese watchmen, i soon found that i need not be always going round to see that they were alert, because their habit of constantly spitting showed me next morning whether they had been awake and where they had stood or walked during the night. one day i found the pavement of one man's beat quite clean and dry, so i had him up and accused him of having been absent without leave. he did not know how i found it out, so confessed that he had been away to see a friend, thinking there was no harm in it, since the place was all locked up and secure. englishmen are fortunately not so dirty in their habits as to be always spitting, but, still; there is a little of it going on in our streets; and even a little is a bad thing. it is not only a habit that is nasty to other people, but it is dangerous as well, for the following reason; so many men are suffering from consumption or disease of the lungs even without knowing it. when they spit they throw out a number of tiny "germs," which, although too small to be seen, get into the air and are very easily breathed in again by other passers-by; and these germs contain the seeds of the disease, which are thus sown in healthy people, and make them "consumptives" also. unhappily people are rather fond of spitting in railway carriages. a man doing this was fined ten shillings and two guineas costs not long since. his excuse was that he had a bad cough. any scout could have told him, apart from the dirty, disgusting part of the habit, how very dangerous to other passengers it is for a person with a bad cough to indulge in this habit. little living seeds of disease are in this way let loose to get into other people's throats and lungs, and possibly to bring them illness and death. * * * * * the war against consumption. sixty thousand people die every year of consumption in great britain. one death in every eight is from consumption. two hundred and fifty thousand people, or one in every two hundred, have the disease in them. consumption is caught through carelessness or ignorance, by breathing the germs, or in drinking them in milk. the following are a few simple rules which, if followed, should help to prevent you from getting it: . live much in the open air. . sleep with the window open. . breathe through the nose. . if you drink milk, be sure that it is pure. . keep your blood healthy with exercise, good and plain food. . keep your home clean and well ventilated. . never neglect a cold. here are some pictures showing how people get the germs of consumption into them unless they are very careful. a large number of cows have the germs or seeds of consumption in them, and they give out these germs in their milk. so milk ought to be "sterilised," that is to say, it should be made so hot that the germs are killed before it is drunk. [illustration: do not drink milk straight from the cow, as a great number of these animals have the germs of consumption in them.] then a large number of people have the consumption germs in them, although they may not yet be ill with it. they will get ill sooner or later, and they give out germs whenever they cough or spit. [illustration: how consumption is spread. a man spits and the germs rise. they try a boy who breathes through the nose, but get thrown out again. then they try another boy who breathes through his open mouth, and so they get into his lungs.] these germs get blown about in the air with the dust, and get into other people's mouths, and so into their lungs--that is, if the other people go about with their mouths partly open. if they breathe through their nose only, as i hope all scouts do, there is less chance of the germs getting into the lungs, as they get caught in the sticky liquid in the nostrils, and get driven out again when you blow your nose. it is the same with other diseases besides consumption. the missioner scout can safely go about among people who are ill with colds, measles, and other sicknesses, if he breathes only through his nose. all illnesses that are "catching" are spread by germs flying from one person to another. the consumptive germs get into you and go for your lungs, which are big sponges inside you, through which your blood gets the air, which is necessary to keep it healthy. consumption germs "consume" your lungs. the nasty little germ of disease thrives in dirt, and dark and muggy _air_, and so he grips even the healthiest people in rooms that are dark and dirty, and where the windows are not kept open. fresh air, sunlight, and cleanliness kill the germs. now that you know what consumption is, you will be doing a good turn to get other people to understand it. i _want_ every _scout who reads this to show the pictures to at least five other people, and explain them. he may thus save lives._ travels abroad camping in norway after a delightful little voyage in one of the smart wilson line steamers, i arrived one morning early in christiania, the capital of norway. the town is an ordinary continental town, but stands on the shores of an arm of the sea which is so shut in by wooded hills for some twenty miles that it is more like an inland lake than a gulf of the ocean. what a place for sea scouts! one of the first norwegian boys to attract my attention was a boy scout--so like an english scout that he may have been one for all i know, but i was not able to speak to him, i was catching a train, and he was going off in a hurry in another direction, evidently in trouble, as he was whistling and smiling! and it is difficult to tell a norwegian boy from an english boy by his appearance, for they are very much alike. and so are the girls and young women very like their british sisters. but then, as we all came of the same blood in bygone times, it is not altogether surprising. then their royal family is related to ours, for queen maud, the wife of king haakon, is sister of our own king. so norwegians have much in common with the english, and since my visit scouts of the two countries have become good friends and camped with each other. there could be no better country than this for camping out. as you come through it in the train, you keep passing among wooded hills and then alongside rivers and lakes; a great deal of wild country with occasional cultivated parts where there are neat little wooden farmsteads and villages. the houses are painted bright colours, and are roofed with tiles or shingles, that is, wooden slates, as in canada. in fact, with its forests, lakes, and rivers, and their floating timber, and the sawmills, the country generally is not unlike canada. as wood is so abundant here, farm scouts will be interested to see from the picture how they make their fences in place of hedges or ordinary post-and-rails. it is a kind of fence that you can make easily with almost any kind of slats or with brushwood or branches. [illustration: a norwegian fence.] a way which the norwegian woodmen have of piling their small timber in the woods in order to dry it is one which might also be useful to scouts when making a bivouac-hut, where there are plenty of saplings. you pile them as shown in the picture, all with their butts or thick ends together to windward, and thin ends splayed outwards. when you have got this frame together you can cover it with a waterproof sheet, or straw mat, or brushwood, to keep out the weather, and light your fire opposite the opening. in my camp i had one friend, george. [illustration: an easily-made bivouac hut] we found a good site on the bank of a rushing roaring river between high hills covered with forest. we were thirty-five miles from the nearest railway station, and about four miles from a farm, where we got our butter and our milk. the river supplied our fish, and we shot our own game. we carried just enough kit to make a load for a pack-pony--a bundle of about lb. weight on each side of him. there were no roads, and a pack-pony is the only means of carrying heavy luggage, such as tents, etc. we each had our bivouac tent, bedding, change of clothes, cooking pots, and fishing rods, etc. of course, we did our own cooking, woodcutting, and cleaning up. and cleaning up is a very important part of camp work. our camp was small and never likely to be seen by anybody besides ourselves, but it was always kept very neat and tidy, and we could shift camp at any moment, and leave scarcely a sign that we had been there. that is how scouts should always have their camp--everything in its place, so that you can find anything you want at a moment's notice in the event of a sudden turn out in the dark, or for shutting up for a sudden rain squall. all scraps of food should be burnt or buried, and not thrown about round the camp. on service these scraps would be good "sign" to an enemy's scouts as to who had occupied the camp, and how long ago, and how well off they were for provisions, and so on. another reason against letting your camp ground get dirty is that it quickly becomes the camping place also of thousands of flies. if you have flies in camp it is a sign that the camp is not kept clean. * * * * * a camp bedroom. i have made a sketch of my tent, which, as you will see, is a kind of hammock with a roof to it, slung between two trees. this form of tent keeps you dry in wet weather or on swampy ground; you never have to lie on the ground, you can get snakes and other nice visitors crawling into your bed. the cot is long enough to hold your kit as well as yourself. it is kept stretched out by two side poles and a ridge pole. these can be cut in the wood where you camp, and the cot itself, with bedding and kit inside, can be rolled up in the waterproof, and this forms a neat roll for half of the pack-pony's load. the cot is springy and most comfortable to sleep in. when you are ill or wounded it makes a very good stretcher, the side poles forming the carrying handles. in the same way, when you are dead it makes an excellent coffin, as the sides and ends fold in, and can be laced over the body. i have not tried it myself in that way. another advantage which i have twice found the cot-tent to have was, when a tornado visited camp, and all the tents were blown down into the mud, my little cot was swaying quietly in the wind--it cannot blow down. in the drawing you see also, besides my bedroom (in the cot), my dressing-room, my drawing-room, and my bathroom--in fact, my whole residence. the dressing-room was where my fishing waders are hanging up to dry, together with my shaving-glass, hat, and holdalls. over the cot are hanging my overcoat and moccasins and towel. my drawing-room was the rug on which i sit, my writing-case lying there ready for use. [illustration: my camp residence in norway. my cot-tent will be seen in the centre of the picture.] my bath was down below, through the trees, in the river! my whole house was carpeted with a beautiful soft springy moss, so dry that a match dropped on to it would soon set the whole forest in a blaze. so we had to be very careful about our camp fire. * * * * * the camp fire. we made our kitchen near the river, where this dry moss did not grow. a camp fire for cooking is not a bonfire. a tenderfoot never remembers this; but an old campaigner can be recognised by the smallness of his fire; he does not waste fuel. in the woods there may be plenty of timber, but he is not going to waste time, energy, and axes in cutting down piles of firewood when he can make a few handfuls do equally well; and if he is out on the plains where firewood is almost unknown, he has to do with a few roots of grass, or bits of cow-dung, etc. then a big roaring fire, though it looks very cheery, sends off sparks, and in dry camping weather these are very dangerous, whether in the woods, or on the heather, or among the grass. [illustration: my camp kitchen.] we began our fire by, first of all, collecting a heap of firewood, chiefly dead branches from trees; then by laying a few shreds of birch-bark between two good flat stones of equal height (about six inches), and on these we laid a few bits and splinters of dry wood taken from the inside of a dead tree, and on that just two or three small dry sticks, and then set it alight. as it burnt we gradually added more small sticks till it was a good strong little fire, then we added more and more sticks, the object being to get the space between the stones gradually full of glowing red-hot bits of wood to give heat to the cooking pots, which we then stood on the two stones so as to bridge over the fire. the great art is to begin with a very _small_ fire and a _very_ dry one. you can then add to its size as you please later on, and when it is going strong you can add damper wood if dry wood is scarce. birch-bark cannot be found everywhere, but it is the best of lighting tinder when you have it. the channel between the stones is much better if laid so as to face the breeze. the fire can then be kept going at the mouth of it, and the heat will blow through; a bigger kind of log can be put in from the other end to catch fire and add to the heat in the channel. of course, there are plenty of other ways of making fires, which you can read about in _scouting for boys_, but this is the particular kind of cooking fire that we used in my norwegian camp. at night, when we had cooked our supper and the night was getting chilly, of course, we put on big logs laid across each other, and so got a big, star-shaped fire to make a blaze to warm us, but we kept a good watch on any sparks to see that they didn't touch the moss or heather, and when we turned in, we trod out the fire and poured water over the whole of the ashes, so as to prevent any chance of embers blowing out into flame again during the night and setting light to the grass. scouts cannot be too careful in this matter, especially in england, where landowners are very good at lending their ground to troops for camping, but are naturally very nervous all the time lest by some carelessness a grass fire may get started, and thousands of pounds' worth of timber or property get burnt. early in the morning we were to leave our rest-house near the railway in order to drive (and partly to walk) to the place where we were going to make our headquarters. this was forty-nine kilometres distant. how many miles is that? as kilometres are generally used abroad for telling distances, a scout ought to know how to compare the two and here is a simple way of doing it: multiply your number of kilometres by five and divide the result by eight, and you will have the number of miles. thus: we want to know how many miles our forty-nine kilometres are. --- ) --- / or about / miles. as i have said, we were to leave early, but we found that the norwegian idea of early is not so very early as with us in england. they thought eight o'clock breakfast very early, and the cart, which was supposed to start at nine, did not get away till : . it was a little ramshackle sort of dogcart with a very high seat, which just gave standing room for us among our baggage, while the boy in charge of the pony hung on as best he could behind. the pony was fine and strong and fat, but awfully sedate; in fact, it was only after a lot of persuasion that we got him to move at a trot, and then it was a marvellously slow trot. however, i found that if one showed him the spare end of the rope reins, and offered to strike him with it, he mended his pace considerably. he kept his eye on me all the time-- the norwegians seem to be very kind to their animals. they don't use whips or blinkers or bearing-reins on their horses and before we had gone very far the boy in charge considered it time to unharness and feed his horse for a few minutes. we walked on while he did so, and as it wasn't for an hour and a half that he overtook us again, we guessed he had given the horse a very fine feed indeed. [illustration: the horse kept his eye on me all the way.] we didn't do ourselves badly, either, because all along the road, which ran through beautiful woods along the hillside, we found lots of excellent raspberries growing wild. we changed ponies half-way: but when we had got nearly to our journey's end, the boy said he must stop and feed the horse. we said: "no; it is only four or five miles more, and the pony will be home." but the boy began to cry at our cruelty, so we had to stop and let the horse graze. it was very pleasing to see that they are so kind to their animals. i have said that i was not one day in norway before i saw a boy scout. well, i was not two days in the country before i saw a girl guide. correctly dressed in the same kits those in england, with her patrol ribbons on, she was taking lunch at the rest-house where we stopped for ours. unfortunately, she could not talk english, so we could not have a chat, as i should have liked. it is a grand thing for scouts who care to travel that boy scouts are now to be found in most foreign countries, because you have only to make the secret sign a few times in any town, and you will get an answer, and find a brother scout ready to help you. in norway, especially, they seem likely to be very useful to british scouts, because they are very like british boys, except that they have much more practice in woodcraft. a large proportion of them live in wildish country, among the forests and lakes, and so they know how to look after themselves; they are nice, cheery fellows. they are very clean, and they speak the truth. well, that means a great deal, because you can trust a fellow who speaks the truth, and, what is more, you can trust him to behave well in danger or trouble. i find that men who tell lies in peace time are not among the bravest in war; and telling a lie is, after all, a bit of cowardice--the fellow who tells it is afraid to speak the truth, or he hopes to get something in return for what he says, if he can only get the other fellow to see the question as he wants him to. well, that's a sneaking way of doing it. a manly fellow will speak out, and always say exactly what he wants or what is the real state of the case; he will be believed and will generally get his way. in any case, show me a liar, and i can show you a "funk-stick." * * * * * hooks and pot-hooks. you may be interested in a picture of our camp on the allalaer river in norway. the shelter was rigged up with a waterproof sheet and a few poles cut in the forest. inside this shelter you see our store-cupboard; in other words, a box turned on end, with a bit of the lid made into a shelf. in this we stored our bread, coffee, sugar, and such things. then down on the left of the sketch is a small log bridge over a stream. under this bridge we kept our milk, butter, and fish; it made an excellent ice-cold larder. next we come to the chopping block, an old log on which we chopped firewood into the right size. if you chop wood on the ground you will very soon blunt your axe, so always use a chopping-block. and when you have finished chopping, leave your axe sticking in the block; this preserves its edge from getting rusty or knocked by stones, etc. it also preserves your toes from getting cut by stumbling over an axe in the dark. [illustration: my camp on the allalaer river in norway.] next we come to the important part of the camp--the fire. you see we made the fire between two big flat stones. these were useful for standing the frying-pan on, and cooking billies, etc. the fire is made at the windward end of the channel, between the stones, so that the heat blows into the channel, while the fire forms a pile of red-hot embers outside, at which toast can be made. notice our automatic toast-makers, made of a forked stick and a small supporting fork. [illustration: my toasting-fork.] then over the fire we had a crossbar of green wood (if you use old wood it will catch fire and drop your pot into the fire just as the stew is ready); it was supported on two stout, firmly-driven forked stakes, not the wobbly, rickety things which tenderfoots like to put up. on the crossbar our kettle was hung by a pot-hook--just a hooked stick with a good notch cut in it to take the handle of the kettle. also on the crossbar in the sketch you see our tongs. these are most useful things for a camp-fire for lifting hot embers into the spot where you want them for giving extra heat. [illustration: my automatic kettle-holder.] the tongs are made from a green stick of hazel, or alder, or birch. the stick should be about / to feet long. at the middle you cut away a good bit of the wood from one side for about inches. then cut a number of small notches across the grain of the wood to make it still more bendable at the centre. here's the side view of the centre part of your stick. [illustration: the tongs before and after being bent.] then flatten the inner sides of your stick towards both ends, so that they get a better hold on things; bend the two ends together and there you have your tongs: next to the tongs, in the sketch, you see a small branch of dwarf fir. this makes a hearth-brush, which is very useful for keeping the fire neat and clean. the ordinary-looking stick leaning against the crossbar is an ordinary sort of stick, but a very useful one. he is the poker and pot-lifter. he should be a stout green stick not easily burnt. poplar is a difficult wood to burn, but then many old hands won't use it, because it is said to bring bad luck on the camp-fire where it is used; but that is an old wife's story, and i always use it when i get the chance. if the soup gets upset, i look on it as my fault, not the fault of the poplar poker. in fact, whatever wood the poker is made of, one always seems to get a kind of affection for him. he is only an ordinary ugly, old half-burnt stick, but he is jolly useful and helpful. on this side of the fire you see the pile of wood that has been collected for fuel. it is generally the right thing when in camp for each camper, when coming in, whether from bathing, or fishing, or anywhere else, to bring with him some contribution to the wood-pile. different kinds of wood are needed for it. first you want "punk" and "kindling"--that is, strips of birch-bark (which are better than paper for starting a fire), dry fibre from the inside of old dead trees, dry lichen or moss, anything that will start a fire. and also small, dry splinters, chips, and twigs to give the flame for lighting the bigger wood. secondly, you want lots of sticks, about / to inch in thickness, for making your cooking-fire of hot embers, or you can get bigger logs, from which you can afterwards knock off, with our friend the poker, red-hot embers for the cooking. remember, you don't want a great blazing fire for cooking, but one that is all made of red-hot lumps. for warming you up and giving a cheerful appearance to the camp at night you can have any amount of big, dry branches and logs--the drier the better for a good blaze. beyond the fire, in the sketch, you see our dining-table and seat. this is a plank set across a hole in the ground, and the table is another plank beyond it. that is one way of making a dining-table. another way to make seats and tables in camp, especially in a country like this, where the forest is full of fallen timber, is to go and look out for a suitable pine tree with branches so placed that by a little lopping with an axe you can make a trestle like this: [illustration: home-made seat.] two such trestles can be made to support a few split saplings, or a number of stout straight rods, which can then be nailed, spiked, or lashed down with cross-battens to form a table; and more such trestles can form the seats. on the right of the sketch you see three forked uprights. these formed our rack for holding fishing-rods and landing-nets. the little tufts hanging on this rack are bunches of heather. did you ever hear the yarn of the boy scout who, at his school examination in natural history, was asked, "what is heather?" he replied, "well, sir, it is what we clean the cooking-pots with in camp." he was quite right, though perhaps the examiner did not think so. a few bunches of heather are most useful as dishcloths for cleaning dishes and pots. the reason why they are hanging on the rod rack is that they are handy for use in the scullery, which is that part of the river close by the rack. in using a river you always have certain spots told off to the different uses. first and highest up-stream you get your drinking water. next is your handwashing place (not bathing place) and scullery for washing plates and cooking-pots. below that is the refuse place, where you throw away scraps off the plates and from cooking-pots, and gut your fish. this should be where the stream will carry away the scraps and not slack water, where they will collect. of course, this throwing of refuse into the river only does in a wild country or where the river is big. in most english camps, all refuse should be buried in a pit or burnt. i think that describes the whole of our camp. oh, no, there is still one article--and one of great importance alongside the tent you see our camp besom or broom. it is made of a few birch twigs bound together. (the long thin roots of the fir-tree make very good cord.) this we used for sweeping the camp-ground every morning when we tidied up. when we left our camp, the last thing we did after everything was packed ready for moving was to go round and tidy up the whole ground, and burn all the scraps, chips, and twigs that were left on the ground. so when we left it would have been difficult for a stranger to say that anybody had been camped there except for the place where the fire had been. but we left the cross-bars, pot-hooks, and wood-pile there, so that anyone coming after us would find them ready for his use. [illustration: a fish carrier] but i expect they will all have rotted away before any one else comes that way to camp, for it is in an out-of-the-way corner where very few travellers come. another hook i might, mention is one used for carrying your fish when you have caught them. it is merely a twig cut from the nearest bush. * * * * * a boat voyage i had heard of a wonderful gorge in the mountains to the west of us, through which no man had ever passed, and george wanted to go "reeper" shooting on the mountain slopes in that direction. (a "reeper" is a norwegian grouse.) so one fine morning found us starting in a boat to row down the great lake, which would bring us to the foot of the mountains. this lake is about eight miles long, and one mile wide. steep, forest-clad hillsides run down to the lake on both sides, and there are not half a dozen farms in sight of it, so we felt that we were getting into wilder parts as soon as we had started on our voyage. the boats here are only made for one pair of sculls to be used at a time, so it came heavy on each of us in turn to have to row our well-loaded ship with its cargo of two men, two dogs (bruce and gordon), and all our luggage, guns, and ammunition. [illustration: "i rigged up my oilskin coat as a sail, with george to act as mast and rigging."] luckily for me, before it came to my turn to row, a good breeze sprang up from behind us, so in a very short time i had rigged up my oilskin coat as a sail, with george to act as mast and rigging, and i took an oar to steer with. in a very short time we found ourselves running along at double the pace that we could have got by rowing. on these lakes, though there are plenty of boats, you never see one fitted with mast and sails for sailing. it is too dangerous; sudden squalls come down from the hills and catch the sails the wrong way or too violently, and so capsize the boat before the crew can do anything to save her. even on ordinary water, no one but a tenderfoot would sail a small boat with the "sheets" made fast; the men sailing the boat hold these in their hands ready to ease them up at any moment should a squall strike them. but the danger is much greater on a lake among mountains. so you see a scout needs to know something about sea scouting if he wants to get about successfully in a country where he has to make use of boats or canoes. by using an oar as a rudder--which is also understood by sea scouts--we found we could sail to some extent across the wind as well as before it, and so we were able to get round headlands which came in our way without having to lower sail and take to rowing. another thing to look out for on these mountain lakes is that a bit of wind very quickly makes quite fair-sized waves, which, with a heavily loaded boat, may lop in over the side, if your helmsman is not very careful, and swamp the boat. so it is foolishness for any scout to go on this sort of expedition unless he can swim. in fact, every scout ought to be able to swim; he is no use till he can, and he will always find it useful to know something of sea scouting. the oars of norwegian boats are worked not in rowlocks, or crutches, or between thole pins, as at home, but on a single thole pin, to which they are attached by a "strop" or loop. this is a useful dodge to know of in case one of your thole pins breaks, as sometimes happens. [illustration: how the oars in norwegian boats are worked.] in norway, the strop is made of a stick of birchwood (hazel does equally well), which is first twisted and twisted round to such an extent that it is as flexible and as strong as a length of rope, and is tied by twisting its ends round itself, as shown in _scouting for boys_. a scout should be able at any time to twist a stick into rope, but to do it successfully he must know which kind of wood to pick out for it. that is one reason for knowing the different kinds of trees by sight. while we sailed along we trailed a line astern of us with some tempting-looking flies on it in the hope that we might get a trout for dinner. suddenly, just when we were in the middle of a busy time over a squall of wind, there came a tug, tug, and a pull at our line. all was at once excitement. "down mast and sail!" "reel in the line!" "hold the boat with the oars!" "don't let him break away!" steadily he is hauled, kicking and rolling over in the water, and at last he is safely lifted into the boat--a fine, silvery, speckled trout. "what a dinner he will make!" "how would you like him, grilled, fried, or boiled?" alas! we thought a good deal about what sort of dinner he would make. and he did make a dinner, too--but not for us! we presently heard bruce crunching and munching something. he had not waited for the fish to be fried, or grilled, or boiled. he just ate him as he was. we only had bread and butter and coffee for dinner that day--without any trout. we didn't even mention trout during the meal. we didn't seem to want any, or we pretended we didn't. still, we had a very jolly dinner at a beautiful spot where we landed on the shore of the lake. then after a further bit of sailing and rowing we reached the end of the lake. here we hauled up our boat high and dry, leaving all her gear in her, for nobody steals things in norway. we "humped our packs" on to our backs, and, with rod and gun in hand and the dogs trotting alongside, we started up the hills through the forest, bogs, and rocks, to get to the farm three miles away, where we were to spend the night at the foot of the mountains. * * * * * the jasjvold saeter. that means the name of the farm where we stopped, and we made it our headquarters for several days. "saeter" means "summer farm." the norwegian farmers are mostly dairy and cattle farmers, and in the summer they take their herds up on to the high ground for the grazing, and bring them back into the lower and warmer valleys in winter. our farmer at jasjvold was named slackman; and he was a slack man to look at--very wild and unkempt, with a tousled head of hair, and a rough beard; clothed in a blue jumper, and breeches and rough stockings, and carrying a big knife in his belt, he looked as if he could and would willingly slit your throat while you were asleep; but on sundays he was a very different character. [illustration: the jasjvold saeter.] even away up here in the mountains, far away from any neighbours, he did not forget to keep the sabbath, and he appeared very clean and smart, neatly dressed, with white collar and tie, hair and beard trimmed, and altogether so different that at first glance i did not recognise him on sunday morning. but, in spite of his wild week-day appearance, he was a most cheery, kind-hearted man, always anxious to do good turns for us, and to help us in every way. in the evenings he would come and sit with us, eager to teach us norwegian, and equally anxious himself to learn english. so we got along splendidly together. the saeter is a group of farm buildings; each one is a separate single-storied log house. there is the farmer's house, the house for guests (in which we lived), the men's house, the dairy, the bakehouse, and the "staboor," which is a kind of hayloft, stable, and manure shed all in one. being built on the side of a hill, it has three storeys on one side, and only one or two on the uphill side. the hay is put into the top storey, and can be dropped down through a trapdoor into the stable, which is on the second floor. then the stable is cleaned out through trapdoors, which let all the dirt fall into the lower storey, from which it can be carted away to manure the fields. a curious thing about most of the norwegian farms is that there are no muddy cart tracks to be seen, the grass is green right up to the doors. then there are no chickens about the place, as a rule; nor are there beehives, nor any garden. the carts are very small and low, sometimes on wheels, sometimes on runners, as sledges. the harness is very light, and yet strong; the driver walks behind the cart and drives the horse with a long pair of rope reins. [illustration: the carts are small and low.] our house in the saeter was, like all the others, a single-storied log house, with a roof of planks covered with birchbark, over which is spread a thick layer of earth, which soon becomes grass-grown, so that it looks as if the roof were made of turf. there were three or four rooms in the house, nice, clean rooms, with comfortable beds, and a great big open fire hearth in the corner, in which you light up your log fire whenever you like to have it--and we liked it pretty nearly always, for at this height, nearly feet, close to snow-clad mountains, the evenings and early mornings were very cold. on our door was a big lock, and a lock in this country is not boxed up inside iron casing but is left open to view, so that you can see how it works, and get your fingers pinched in it if you like to be careless. the farmer's wife, a kind, cheery, clean, motherly woman, was always cooking up good things for us, and feeding us to such an extent that if we had stopped there much longer we should have grown too fat to carry out our expedition. she didn't understand a word of english, but she used to stop her work every now and then to come and hear us having our norwegian lessons, and she used simply to howl with laughing at our attempts to pronounce the words the right way. the food she used to give us is much the same as you get everywhere in norway. for breakfast, which is generally about nine or ten o'clock (we persuaded her to give it to us much earlier), you have a cup of coffee and two or three glasses of milk, home-made bread, and a kind of thin oatmeal cake, butter, and goats'-milk cheese. [illustration: the lock on our door.] dinner is usually about three in the afternoon, but we never had any, as we were out all day, and took bread and coffee with us. supper, at nine o'clock, was much the same as breakfast, with the addition of trout, or soup, and stewed fruit and cream, again with milk to drink. there was one girl, who waited on us and did all the work of the house. i never saw any servant do half as much as she did, and yet she was always neat and clean and smiling. she chopped our firewood, made our beds, greased our boots, waited at table, scrubbed the floors, tables, and chairs every day. you never saw a place so clean, if i were sitting at a table writing when she was on the scrub, i was politely requested to lift my feet up while she did the floor beneath them! then there was a boy at the saeter, who, though he could not speak a word of english, was a very nice english-looking lad. he was in charge of the pony and cart, and his two ponies were the cheekiest, tamest things i have seen. they would follow you about like dogs, and seemed to understand what you said to them. that was all due to kind treatment by their young master. this boy used to be sent off on long journeys over very rough country in charge of the cart. then sometimes he would milk the cows and goats. whenever he had any spare time he would take down his great -foot rod, and go fishing for trout, and generally he brought back some good ones, too. then he was a handy carpenter, and understood mending a boat and sharpening tools on a grindstone. all these are things which a scout should be able to do, but i wonder how many of them an ordinary boy in england can do. then, sharpening your tools is a very useful thing to practise for putting an edge on to your axe or knife. there is a saying among sikh soldiers in india, when speaking of any bad act, that it is "as disgraceful as having a blunt sword." a sikh always keeps his as sharp as a razor. it is a disgrace to him if it is blunt. so, too, a woodman would never be seen with a blunt axe or knife in camp. he would never get through his work if he had them. yet i often see boy scouts go into camp with axes so blunt that they will cut nothing, and their knives very little better. you don't know the pleasure of handling an axe till you have used a really sharp one. and then every scout ought to know how to sharpen his own axe on a grindstone. you must wet the stone first, and then get someone to turn it, running the wheel away from you, while you lay the blade with its back towards you, and its edge in the same direction as the wheel is moving, and pass it gently on to the stone, doing each side of the blade in turn a little at a time until the whole blade becomes bright, especially at the cutting edge. * * * * * exploring the gorge. you remember that george and i went to jasjvold saeter in order to get some "reeper," and also to explore the gorge of which we had heard. as you get higher up above the level of the sea, the nature of the country and of the plants changes. in the lower level you get trees and bushes and flowers very much like those in england, but as you rise higher nothing but fir trees, pines, and birch trees seem to grow. then as you get up a bit the fir trees come to an end, and you find only small birch trees, after which there are no trees. you come out on the open moorland where there is heather, like that in scotland, and other small shrubs, one of which would interest boys because it grows a very nice little fruit called "blue-berries." above the heather, that is, at a height of over feet, you get what is called moss. this is really a kind of lichen like you see growing on trees at home, a pale, yellowish-white, spongy kind of plant, which seems to thrive on barren, rocky mountain sides, and forms feed for the reindeer which run wild in these parts. well, george and i used to go out from the saeter directly after breakfast each day, carrying our ruksacks on our backs, and one of us a gun and the other a fishing rod in his hand. and the dogs went with us. in our ruksacks we carried a kettle, some bread, butter, and coffee, and a change of shoes and stockings, for what with wading through streams and stepping into bogs we were pretty wet about the feet before the day was ended. on the first day we went and discovered the head of the gorge, high up on the mountain side, and each day after that we explored a new bit of it till we had followed it down to where it opened on to the valley at its foot. the gorge was a deep cleft in the mountain-side of dark, frowning cliffs, with a bright, clear mountain stream running along among the rocks and stones at its bottom. * * * * * the trout stream. the farmer had told us there were no fish in this stream, and nobody ever fished there. however, i thought i might as well use my rod, having brought it all the way there, so, pretending to myself that there was a fish in a swirling little pool behind a great rock, i crept and crawled to a spot from which i could, unseen by the fish, throw my fly so that it could float quietly in the current and be carried round the corner. the first attempt from my crouching position was not a good one; the line did not go out far enough, and merely got into a backwater and drifted in close to me so i shortened it up by pulling in a handful or two, and then shot it out again over the water. this time it fell well out, the thin gut cast falling lightly as a cobweb on the surface, and then sliding off with the current close round the edge of the rock; and just as it went out of sight there was a sudden tug and a steady hold on it! a rock no. the next moment there was a rush and a strain, the rod bending over and showing that a really nice fish was on. [illustration: our daily excursion.] i won't tell you all the joy that followed in playing the fish till he was exhausted, and then leading him to a smooth shallow, where, having no landing-net, i could draw him steadily and quickly from the water and up the shelving rock without breaking the delicate line. but i got him! and after him we got many more, enough for all our meals. it was a delightful trout stream, and i could only wish that every scout in the world were there to enjoy it, too. one particular run of water pleased me particularly. the stream rushed through an opening between some rocks, and then gradually opened over a gravelly bed in a long, rippling current. the "tail of the run," as they call it, is the place to expect fish, so i fished quickly over the rapid part of the run, and went more gingerly when i got nearer to the "tail," making my fly visit every inch of the water, and i was quickly rewarded. a sudden ting like an electric shock on my rod, and a heavy rushing and jerking hither and thither, till gradually the fish exhausted himself, and i was able to hold him and gradually tow him up on the shelving beach. out of that one pool we got no fewer than fourteen trout that day! of course, we only kept those we wanted for food, and slid the others back into the water, alarmed, but not hurt. * * * * * stalking. after a few miles the gorge got deeper and deeper and more and more narrow, until it ran between high cliffs which could not be climbed, and the stream became a torrent running between the high rocks, so that progress was impossible along the bottom. we were, therefore, obliged to keep up on the mountainside above the cliffs and make our way along in the same direction as the gorge, occasionally looking down into it to see its wonderful scenery. on steep parts of the mountain we had to clamber along as best we could, and sometimes it was jumpy work, where, if you kicked aside a loose stone, you could see it go bounding away down into the gloomy gorge below. at other times we were walking on beautifully soft moss, into which our feet sank for several inches; in fact, after a time, with a good load on our backs we began to wish it was not quite so soft! but it made our going very quiet and silent, and we kept a sharp look-out for game. at one time george was leading the way when we came to a slight rise in front. like a good scout, he never came to a rise without checking his pace and peeping very carefully over it before going on. this he did more from habit than from any expectation of seeing anything the other side, but it is a most valuable habit, and one which every good scout has. on this occasion it proved its value. george dropped flat on the ground, and, taking the warning from him, i, too, "squatted" at once, and made the dogs lie down. i did not know whether we had an elk or rabbit in front of us, but presently george crept back to me and reported that there were some duck on a pool a short distance ahead. he, being the gun-bearer, then started to stalk these duck by going a long way round, keeping behind hillocks and rocks until he could get near enough to be within shot of them. it took him a long time. [illustration: "george dropped flat on the ground, and, taking the warning from him, i, too, squatted at once, and made the dogs lie down."] he had a good look at the ground first from our hiding-place, and he noted any peculiar rocks or bushes which would serve as guides to him while he was carrying out his stalk, and off he went, creeping and crawling from one landmark to the next, until at last he wriggled up to the bush which he had guessed would bring him within shot of the birds. when he got there, he peeped through the stems of the bush, and found that it was not so close as he had hoped--it was scarcely within gunshot; but the duck had already some suspicion that all was not well. they are the cleverest birds alive; they had all stopped feeding, were looking anxiously about, and were beginning to swim away. george saw that his only chance was to risk a long shot if we were going to have any dinner that day, so, pushing his gun through the bush, he fired at the nearest duck, and, immediately jumping to his feet, he fired again at another, which by this time was on the wing--and he killed both. of course the dogs and i both hurried down to him in great jubilation. there were two good fat ducks floating on the little lake. but how were we to get them? neither of the dogs was a water dog, and the lake was really a wet bog, in which a man could neither swim nor wade. luckily, there was a breeze blowing, so we went round to the lee side and sat down to wait for the birds to drift to us. slowly they came nearer and nearer, but it was very slow work. it became slower and slower as the breeze dropped and at last died away when they were not twenty yards away. [illustration: "fishing" for duck.] then george--again as a good scout would--invented a plan. he took my rod and began to fly-fish for the ducks! that is, he threw the line over a duck, and then gently drew it in so that the hook caught in the bird's feathers. in this way he "caught" both of them in turn and dragged them ashore. from the open high ground we gradually descended to lower heights. first we came among scattered birch trees, and below these we entered pine and fir woods, and through them we came steadily down to the level of the valley in which lay the great lake. just before getting to the valley we dipped once more into our gorge where it finally left the mountains, and it was a grand sight. the cliffs rose sheer up a hundred feet on either side, even overhanging in some places, and the opening between the cliffs was quite narrow, where the stream in a dense body of water rushed its way through in a roaring cascade. it was a magnificent scene. just below the cascade the gorge opened out, and the stream spread itself over a shallow, stony bed, in many courses, till it joined the main river in the valley. george and i clambered down the last cliff, and close to the cascade i made the fire while he went and caught a couple of trout for lunch (we were going to keep those duck for supper at the saeter), and we were very glad of the lunch and a rest. then we turned for home by a new road, walking round the foot of the mountain over whose back we had come. but we turned for home in another sense, for that was the turning point of my trip in norway; i had to go back home to england from there. on our way back we passed great swamps where there were duck, but we had had enough of them to last us for the present. in one part of the swamp we came upon the spoor of elk. the elk, you know, is a great big stag--the same as a moose in canada; a very lanky animal, as big as a horse, with a very blobby nose, and heavy, flat-spread antlers. it was, of course, very good to learn that there really were elk in the neighbourhood, but it only made me the more unhappy at having to leave the country. george, who had no boy scouts demanding his presence, was going to stay on there, so everything that made me more sad made him all the happier--the unfeeling brute! still, i can't complain. i think in the few weeks that i was in norway i had had as good a time as anyone could possibly have. there is no better fun on earth than living in the open and catching and cooking your own grub, in doing mutual good turns with a good comrade in camp, and in recognising god's handiwork in the mountains and forests around you. * * * * * how to fish. george and i would have gone pretty hungry in our camp and on our tramps while in norway had we not both been able to catch fish, for there was little else in the woods to eat besides blue-berries (we were now too high up for the wild raspberries which are so good in the valleys). every scout must know how to fish, otherwise he would feel so silly if he died of starvation alongside a stream full of trout. and fishing--like shooting, or cooking, or swimming, or anything else--is not a thing that you can do straight off without having practised it beforehand; so my advice to tenderfoots is to take every chance of learning how to fish, so that they may be able to do it when they may be in need of fish for food. sea fishing, as you know, is generally done with a long line from a boat, with a good lump of lead on the end of the line, and a number of hooks every foot or so up it, baited with strips of fish with the silvery skin left on them. then in rivers and lakes you fish with rod and line, with a float to hold the bait at the right distance above the bottom. the hook is on a yard or so of gut line, which is invisible to the fish; this is weighted with split shot or small bits of lead, and the bait is usually a worm, or a grub, or a little bit of bread paste. this kind of fishing is called bottom fishing. by the way, here is a good dodge for catching worms which every scout ought to know. mix a little mustard powder in a can of water, and then sprinkle the water over a grass plot, and very _soon you_ will see worms coming up out of the ground in a tremendous hurry. it would be rather a fine conjuring trick to play when people are not up to it--to take an ordinary watering-pot and apparently pour ordinary water on the grass, and then play a mouth-organ or whistle a tune to call up the worms. someone else will be sure to try it, too, and if you have taken care to empty your can of mustard and water they will put in plain water and will get no result in the shape of worms. * * * * * fly-fishing. then there is a third kind of fishing, and that is fly-fishing. it is the most difficult, but at the same time the most useful, because it is the only way that will do in the rapid rivers and streams with which you meet in the wilds; and also it can be used on lakes and slower rivers, and it is much the best fun. all the boys in norway catch their fish by fly-fishing. you have to have a whippy rod with a long line to it, and a long piece of gut (called the "cast") on it, with from one to three hooks made to look like flies on it, these are fixed at about two feet apart. by using the rod as a spring you can throw the line a long distance to any point you wish, so that the flies will float past the nose of a fish and tempt him to rush out and swallow one. the throwing of the fly--casting it is called--is at first the difficulty for a beginner, but it comes all right with a little practice. you can learn to do it perfectly well without going to a river and without having any hooks on your line to begin with. take a rod, and a line as long as a rod and a half, and try throwing it in a field or road or anywhere--till you can get the line to go out perfectly straight to its full extent on to the ground at the spot you wish. the great points to remember which are the key to success arc these: all the work is done by the tip of the rod, not the butt. bring your rod back with a little jerk at the end to throw the line back behind you, but don't let the rod itself go back much beyond the upright position. [illustration: learning to throw the fly.] before throwing the line forward again, give a pause so that it has time to straighten itself behind you--and that pause is the secret of the whole thing. it must not be too short, or your line will still be curled up when you shoot it forward and will not go out the distance you want, and if the pause is too long it will fall and catch on the ground behind you, and also will lose its spring. that is where practice is so necessary, so that you know exactly how long to pause. then an important point to remember is that the jerking of the rod, whether forward or backward, is done from the wrist and only slightly from the elbow, and not at all from the shoulder. a beginner would do well to tie his elbow by a loose strap to his waist, so as to remind him not to wave his whole arm as most beginners do. all this sounds a good deal to think of, but if you go and practise it you very soon get into the way of it, and fly-fishing is the best sport that i know. there are two kinds of fly-fishing, "wet" and "dry." wet fly means that you let your flies sink into the water and you then draw them along under the surface. a dry fly is made in such a way that it floats on the top of the water as many natural flies do, and the fish, seeing it floating there, rises at it. this is the best sport of all fishing, but is also the most difficult to do well. of course, it is difficult for some boys to buy rods and fishing tackle, but a scout ought to be able to make his own as most of these norwegian boys do. [illustration: using a young tree as a fishing-rod.] cut a straight, whippy rod of about ten feet, put on a line of strong, thin twine, and a cast of horsehair out of a pony's tail if you cannot get gut, a hook is difficult to manufacture for yourself, though it can be done with a bit of wire and a file; but most scouts going on an expedition take a few hooks with them as part of their outfit. when i was out with george, i had to make myself a rod, as we only had one rod between us and i got tired of waiting for my turn with it; but we were high up in the mountains where the woods were thin, so i only got a poor choice of sticks from which to make one. however, i cut down a likely looking birch sapling and trimmed him down, and he did pretty well; but he was not very springy, so it required more brute force on my part than skilful turning of the wrist to get my line out, but i caught a lot of fish with him all the same. * * * * * repairing a rod. one day i broke the delicate top joint of my fly-fishing rod by catching the fly in a bush during the back throw. well, it's no use giving up fishing because your rod is broken; the thing to do is to set to work and mend it. it is an accident which often happens, especially to a beginner, and every scout ought to know how to mend his rod. my rod had snapped off a few inches from the tip, so i took the ring off the broken tip, and, after trimming the broken end of the rod with my knife, i put the ring on to this and thus made my rod workable; but it was just a few inches shorter than it had been before. this is the way to bind your ring on to the new tip--at least, it's the way i did it, and it served quite well for the rest of my trip. having no beeswax, i took some "gum" from the bark of a fir tree and rubbed a thin coating on the rod and on the black silk thread i had with me; then, putting the ring on to the end of the rod, i bound it there with a very careful and tight wrapping of the silk. this i had previously wound on to a stick so as to get a good hold on it for pulling each turn tight. to fasten the end of the silk, proceed as follows: [illustration: how to bind the ring of a fishing-rod on a new tip.] after winding from a steadily up towards the point b (about an inch), when you have still about half a dozen turns to do, make a big loop of your silk c, and lay the loose end of it, b d, on the unbound bit of rod, and go on binding over it until you have reached the point b with your thread as in the sketch. you then pull d and the loop c gradually closes in till there is nothing left of it. then you cut off the loose end d close to the rod. put a coating of gum or varnish over the whole to make it fast and watertight, and then you have your rod as strong and as sound as ever. * * * * * fishermen's knots. in order to be able to fix your hook on to your line and to join up the different bits of line, you want to know how to tie your knots; but in addition to those which you have learnt as a scout there are several more which come in useful for a fisherman. i will only give you one or two here, but there are many others. these are drawn half tied, just before pulling tight. here is the overhand loop: [illustration: knot] to join a line to a loop do it this way: [illustration: knot] much the same kind of knot is used to tie a hook to a line: [illustration: knot] to join two lengths of line together, even when of different thickness, follow out this method: [illustration: knot] * * * * * killing fish. the scout law says that you should not kill god's creatures without good reason. it is allowable when you need them for food. in the case of fishing you often catch them when practising, but you need not kill every fish you catch; you can take them carefully off the hook and put them back into the water. the hook as a rule catches them in the lip, which with them is not the tender flesh that it is with us, but merely a lot of bones held together by gristle, so they do not suffer pain as we should--and this is shown by the way the same fish will come on again after having been already caught. when you want to keep a fish that you have caught, you should kill him at once and put him out of his misery, and this you can do either by hitting him on the head with a stick, or by driving your knife into his brain, or by putting your finger down his throat and then bending his head backwards and breaking his neck. * * * * * cleaning a fish. then when you have killed your fish you will want to cook him. first of all you must clean him--that is, take his insides out. the stomach and guts of the fish are carried rather far forward in his chest, so with your knife you cut across the narrow bit of skin which joins his chest to his chin, and with the point of the knife underneath the skin slit the skin of his chest and belly open as far as the fin near his tail. then cut through the gut in his throat and the whole of his insides will be let loose to fall out. but before doing this, if you have slit the belly neatly it is interesting to look at the wonderful insides which he carries--the heart, and lungs, and liver, and intestines, all beautifully arranged and kept in their place and protected by the delicate ribs. it is a wonderful piece of god's work, and when you come to find that each trout that you catch is made exactly in the same way, and just the same as a trout that you may catch in new zealand on the opposite side of the world, you begin to understand what a wonderful creator there must be who makes us all, and gives this wonderful kind of machinery inside the body, which keeps life going for us. * * * * * how to cook your fish. there are many ways of cooking your fish. the usual way is to fry him in a hot frying-pan. a slit should be cut in each side of the fish, as otherwise the heat is likely to burst his skin. a little salt and a pinch of mustard put in with the butter in the pan will add to his flavour. but the simplest way, for you don't generally carry frying-pans with you when you go fishing, is to cut a long stick that bends at an angle of forty-five degrees. cut one arm to about one-third the length of the other. trim the short arm with your knife till it is fine and pointed; pass this through the fish's mouth and then through the flesh near his tail, and toast him by the fire, back downwards, with a small lump of butter and a pinch of salt and mustard powder in his inside. you will find him very good eating! a clean, flat stone makes a good plate. * * * * * the fisherman's hail. there, now i've told you how to catch and kill and cook your fish, i hope that you will soon be able to do it, and i wish you the old salutation which every fisherman wishes to another when they start out to fish, "a tight line to you," meaning that i hope you will get a big one on. foreign boy scouts the norwegians. when my holiday in norway came to an end, i was very sorry to pack up and come away. even when i drove the last thirty miles in a cart to the railway i carried my rod in my hand, and when i saw a good-looking pool or run in a river--we were generally near a river--i stopped the cart for a few minutes and tried for a trout, and, what was more, i occasionally caught one! [illustration: norwegian scouts were very lively.] at last i got back to christiania and to proper clothes and clean hands--and i didn't like it a bit. however, i was comforted by being told that the boy scouts wanted me to inspect them, and i did so. there was a parade of nearly eight hundred of them; fine, strapping, big lads they were, too, just like a lot of british boys, and dressed the same as us, and very lively and active. [illustration: the norwegian flag. as you will see, it is something like the union jack.] i had to present colours to some of their troops, and their national flag is in some ways a little like our union jack. and i told them that they were as like british boys as their flag was like ours, and that their forefathers, the norsemen, were mixed up with our forefathers in the old days, and i hoped that we would all be mixed together, in a friendly way, in these days--as brother scouts. * * * * * the swedes. in england we are apt to look upon norway and sweden as almost one nation, but they are not so in reality. the norwegians in the old, old days formed one nation with the danes, but the swedes have always been a separate nation which has never been under the rule of any other people. and they are very proud of this. so when i got amongst the swedes, i found a totally different people, but they were equally kind and friendly to me, and they had an equally british-looking lot of boy scouts. a large number of these had collected the day before i was to review them in stockholm, and were camped there. so i went and saw them overnight in camp, and found them round their camp-fires, cooking their suppers, as jolly as sandboys. if they could do nothing else, they could, at any rates cook their food very well. but they could do other things, too, as they proved next day at the rally. this took place on a big open sports ground. the crown prince and princess of sweden were there to see them (the crown princess is the daughter of h.r.h. the duke of connaught, our president). their royal highnesses are tremendously interested in the scouts, and watched all that they did most keenly. [illustration: a swedish boy scout at the rally.] i heard many reports of the good work done by swedish scouts. here is one: a poorly-paid working man in gothenburg found himself in great difficulties recently through his wife and two children being suddenly taken ill with diphtheria and removed to the hospital. he himself had to go to his work at the factory all day, but he had one of the children left on his hands, as well as the home to look after. he got the wife of one of his neighbours to do this for one day; the next he came back home during the dinner-hour to see how things were going on, and he found his home all cleaned and tidied up, and a strange boy sitting on the floor playing with his child, while another was still finishing the cleaning-up work. when he asked who they were, they explained that they were boy scouts, and, having heard that he was wanting help in his home, they had come to give it. you can imagine how grateful he was, especially as the scouts kept on at the work for over two weeks until the mother had got well and returned to take charge. one of those boys was the son of a rich man, while the other, his comrade, was quite a poor lad. * * * * * the danes. in denmark the boy scouts are strong in numbers and keen and good at their work. those of copenhagen gave a rally in my honour, and twenty troops paraded and gave very good shows of scout work, each troop doing its own in turn. they seemed very good, especially in their cooking. there were two very smart troops of girl guides also present at the parade, who cooked, too. [illustration: avenue of crossed staves. formed by boy scouts and girl guides at copenhagen. i drove through it in a motor-car.] the consequence was that when i began tasting some of their good dishes, i had to go and taste all, so that when the time came for the official dinner i had to attend in the evening i was already so "crowded" that i could not eat any of it! when i drove away from the parade-ground after it was over, the scouts and the girl guides made an avenue, crossing their staves overhead, through which i drove in my motor-car. in copenhagen, the town hall is the great "thing" to see. it is quite modern, only lately built, and is a magnificent building. one of the features about it is the lifts, which keep running slowly up and down. they have no attendants in them. you simply have to jump in or out fairly quickly. i saw one stout old lady come and look at the lift. she did not seem to like trying to jump in, but there seemed no way for getting it to stop for a minute; she looked helplessly around; then she had another look at it. the more she looked the less she liked it, and finally she gave up the idea of visiting the upper floors of the building, and went sorrowfully away. [illustration: the lift in the town hall at copenhagen is a continuous moving one--you have to jump in or out of it pretty smartly. old lady: "shall i venture?"] the scouts in copenhagen have been trained in first aid work by a first aid corps which exists in that city. the danish first aid corps is very much like our fire brigade. at the first aid station are motor-cars fitted up with things needed for almost every kind of accident, and they are ready to turn out at any moment that their services may be required. their office is on the telephone with every police station, and when they get a call to an accident, the motor, with all appliances, leaves the station within thirty seconds of the alarm. when i was there the alarm came that a man had been run over by a tramcar in market street. in a few moments a motor lorry ran out of the station equipped with lifting jacks and levers to raise the tramcar, while a second followed it immediately with stretcher and first aid appliances for the injured man. in the station were kept all the things necessary for dealing with railway accidents, for rescuing people overcome with gas, for saving people in the water, and for pumping air into them when apparently drowned; there were derricks for raising fallen horses, and fire escapes of every kind. in fact, it was fitted up and manned by thirty men, all trained and prepared to deal with every kind of accident that could well happen. well, that's just what i should like to see done by boy scouts in our country towns and villages. they might make their club-room a first aid station, with as many appliances they could get together in the shape of bicycles, hand-carts, ladders, jumping-sheets, stretchers, bandages, spare harness, and with every scout trained to deal with every kind of accident, or to form fence while others rendered first aid, and so on. there might be some way of sending round or sounding the "alarm" when an accident was reported, to bring together in a few minutes the patrol whose turn it was for duty. in this way scouts would do most valuable work. * * * * * the dutch scouts. then i went to holland, where i saw plenty more scouts, both at amsterdam, amersfoort, and the hague; and fine, smart, clean-looking fellows they were, too. [illustration: most of the amsterdam boy scouts carry lassoes with which they are very handy.] one thing which they did especially well was throwing the lasso. they all carried light cord-lassoes on them. these came in useful for hundreds of things, like making bridges, rope-ladders, rescuing people from burning houses, and so on. but the scouts also used them for lassoing each other, and many of them were awfully good at it. the dutch scouts also had an excellent stretcher, which i think would be very useful for some of our ambulance patrols. with its help, one scout alone could take an injured man to hospital. in the first place, it was flat on the ground, without any feet to it, so the scout could roll or drag his patient on to it. [illustration: the dutch scouts' stretcher.] then it had two pairs of canvas flaps, which could lace across the patient's chest and loins, with sort of pockets for his feet, so that after the patient had been fastened on to it he could, if necessary, be stood upright. this is sometimes useful in a narrow place like a tunnel or a mine or a passage. then, with a short chain and hook to each corner, the stretcher was slung underneath a pair of wheels (a scout's hand-cart would do equally well), and the scout was able to wheel his patient away. * * * * * belgian scouts. before my visit to belgium the scouts there did grand work in helping the soldiers who had been sent to put out some forest fires. for several days the scouts were camped with the soldiers. they supplied a line of signalling posts, by which communication was kept up with the nearest telegraph offices. they rendered first aid to a good number of soldiers who got slight injuries from burning or other accidents in fighting the flames. and also the scouts did good work in keeping the soldiers supplied with water when it was most difficult to get. when the campaign with the bush fires was over, the military commanding officer published his very sincere thanks and praise for the good work done by the scouts. the belgian scouts made a very good kind of hut for themselves. in the sketch below you see the framework of one hut, as well as the hut completed by being covered with turf sods, and a wickerwork door. [illustration: belgian boy scouts' hut. on the right is shown the framework.] during the war, the belgian scouts have amply sustained the reputation won for the belgians by the men in the fighting line. indeed, many of the scouts themselves, though boys, joined in the fighting. one boy, leysen, alone, was decorated by king albert for having captured no fewer than eleven spies, and for having accounted for one of the enemy with his own hand. two belgian scouts were captured by the germans while observing their lines and executed; while a large number have been employed in the hospitals as orderlies, in addition to doing good work conveying rations to troops in outlying trenches. on the occasion of one of my visits to the front, i saw a smart troop of belgian scouts. it was a cyclist troop and the boys had offered their services at the outbreak of war for orderly duty to the military authorities at antwerp. they continued their work in the retreat from that place to dunkirk and to north france, afterwards being employed on regular pay by their army headquarters as orderlies. i had the pleasure, too, of meeting the chief scout of belgium, dr. de page, the director of a splendid hospital for belgian soldiers given by the people of great britain. his three sons are scouts, two of them serving in the army, and the youngest doing his bit in the workshop attached to the hospital--where they make their own instruments, such as scalpels, scissors, etc. finally, i had an interview with king albert of belgium. he told me that "he considered the movement one of the best steps of modern times for the education of the boy. his own son is an enthusiastic scout, and the belgian boys who had taken it up were quite changed for the better, and had done valuable service in the war. the war had been a high test for it, but had proved that our training gave the very best foundation for making good soldiers--by developing the right spirit and intelligence as well as physical strength and activity." at the opening of the "mercers' arms" (the hut for the use of our troops which is manned by scoutmasters) a guard of honour was formed by a calais troop of french boy scouts under scoutmaster laut. these boys have been doing helpful service in the military hospitals. it was very pleasing indeed to see our international comradeship thus exemplified. * * * * * a trip to algeria one january morning my wife and i sailed from southampton for algeria, on the north coast of africa. as we came into the bay of biscay, after leaving the english channel, our ship got into a big swell, the seas rolling us heavily, and occasionally rushing over our bows in frothing green and clouds of spray. after about twenty-four hours of rough weather we sighted cape finisterre--the first headland on the coast of portugal, and not far from that we passed corunna, where, during the peninsular war in , the british force under sir john moore successfully got away from a superior force of french, though losing their gallant commander in doing so. the next important town on the coast is vigo, and it was in vigo bay that drake "singed the spanish king's beard" by capturing and burning his fleet. also later, during the war of the spanish succession in , an anglo-dutch fleet under admirals rooke and stanhope attacked the spanish "silver fleet" in vigo harbour, captured much treasure, and sank many vessels. past the torres vedras. where wellington successfully held off napoleon's army till his own was fit to take the field. and near that is oporto, where the port wine comes from, and which is well known to britons as being the place where the duke of wellington defeated the french troops under marshal ney in the peninsular war by crossing the river douro unexpectedly--the french thinking it quite impassable by british troops, we got into calmer water near the mouth, of the river tagus, and here we saw the palace of our national guest, the young ex-king of portugal, standing high up on a mountain peak above cintra. * * * * * algiers. continuing our voyage, we passed trafalgar bay and gibraltar, where we reviewed some scouts. on arrival at algiers, the chief seaport and capital of algeria, the first thing that struck us was the strange mixture of people we met in the streets. there were arabs, in their flowing white garments, brushing shoulders with smartly dressed french officers and ladies, and picturesque native soldiers and turks and italian peasants all busy at their different pursuits. algiers is now a modern french town, though formerly it was the headquarters of the algerian pirates. the native quarter of the city is still a network of narrow streets and alleys, made quite dark by the houses that almost meet overhead. above the town stands the old fortress, called the casbah. this was the stronghold of the turkish corsairs and it was here that they kept the prisoners which they captured from various vessels at sea. those of the captives who were christians they treated with unusual severity, and a large number of british sailors suffered torture at their hands. we saw here a massive doorway with chains hanging festooned upon the upper part. this was called "the gate of pardon," because here the prisoner was given a chance of release. he was made to run between two lines of soldiers armed with swords, all of whom cut at him as he ran by, and if he were able at the end of the course to spring up and catch hold of the chain he was allowed to go free. if he failed he had to run the gauntlet back again, and very few survived it. [illustration: the gate of pardon, algiers.] another reminder of the christian prisoners is to be seen in the chief mosque of the city. this was designed and built by these captives under the orders of their heathen masters. they naturally constructed it like one of our churches in the form of a cross. this was afterwards recognised by the moors, and the church was used, but the builders were put to death for their temerity. we can admire the bravery of these men, who, in spite of the danger of being killed for it, did their best to maintain their religion to the end. * * * * * constantine. a day's journey by train from algiers, through country closely cultivated with vines and crops by the french colonists, and then through a mountainous district inhabited by the kabyle tribes, brought us into constantine. this is a wonderful city perched on a high rock, and surrounded on three sides by a narrow gorge some feet deep. it has been a fortress since ancient times; and holds the record for being besieged, having stood no fewer than eighty investments in its time. on the last occasion it was held by the arabs against the french, whose first attempt to take the place was defeated by the natives after a desperate fight. it looks practically impossible to capture the place, but for two years the french did not give up hope, continuing their efforts until in the end they were successful. like the scouts they were not put off by very big difficulties, but pluckily stuck to it, and gained their end. we visited here the french cavalry regiment, the rd chasseurs d'afrique. this regiment distinguished itself in the crimea by supporting the charge of the british light brigade at balaclava. it dashed bravely into the batteries of russian artillery, who were firing into the flanks of our force, and captured a number of their guns, and thus enabled the survivors of the charge to make their way back from the field. the records of this exploit are still preserved in the regimental museum, or _salle d'honneur_, as are also the trophies and memorials of other fine deeds performed by the regiment on active service. among these was an interesting letter written by an officer after he had been mortally wounded by a shot which shattered his jaw. it was his last message to the men of his squadron urging them to do their duty before all else, and saying he was proud to die in the cause of his country. * * * * * a roman house. this portion of the globe was once an important part of the roman empire. as every scout knows this great nation penetrated as far north as the borders of scotland, and ruled over england for nearly years. they also held germany, france, and spain, and the larger portion of north africa. in the course of our travels in algeria, we came across remains of the roman occupation, the finest of these being the ruins of the city of timgad. these have been dug out of the sand, and preserved, so that it is now possible to walk through the paved streets and visit what were once the market place, theatre, bathing establishments, temples, public libraries, and private houses of people who lived there over years ago. the usual roman house consisted of a front hall leading into a central open-air courtyard, which was surrounded by a colonnade, and had a fountain or tank full of fish in the centre. then leading out of this were the owner's study, sitting-room, bedrooms, dining-room, and a series of three bathrooms, one warm, the second hot, and the third cold. the floors of the rooms were made of cement, upon which ornamental mosaic was inlaid, that is, a pattern made out of very small stones of different colours. * * * * * an arab market. on arrival at timgad my wife and i found the weekly arab market in full swing. [illustration: an arab taking a sheep home from market.] it is not in the least like an english market with its tidy pens of sheep and cattle and orderly arrangement of stalls, for this is a dense crowd of white-robed arabs, in the midst of which camels and donkeys for sale stand about amongst tents full of clothes and corn and seed, and strips of hide for making shoes. and here and there in the dust are dark men cooking and selling unappetising bits of meat and making black coffee, which is their only drink. towards evening the fair breaks up. those who have bought corn load up great sacks of it upon their camels' backs. the camel, as you know, squats down on the ground whilst its master loads it, and during the process looks round and gives out heartrending groans as if complaining at the excessive weight being put upon its back, but when the load is adjusted, the animal gets up and walks away quite contentedly. the camel can travel long distances for days together without drinking fresh water, because his throat is fitted by nature with bladders, which he fills with water before starting. when he feels thirsty, he ejects one of these out of his throat, and then drinks the water from it. others of the arabs who have been attending the fair mount their mules or donkeys--often two of them on one mule--carrying their purchases with them, in some cases even carrying live sheep across their saddles. many of them crowd into coaches to go home. these are rickety-looking boxes on wheels with roofs to them, drawn by six horses, which travel three abreast. when they were all comfortably settled in one of these coaches ready for their journey, my wife stepped forward with her kodak to photograph them. in a moment they were tumbling out of their places, hurrying to get out of the range of the "evil eye"--for that is what they think the camera must be; they fear it may bring sickness or bad luck upon them. * * * * * the spahis. while we were at timgad a gaily coloured little band of mounted men came trailing across the plain, and finally made their halt close to us. they were a troop of "spahis," or native cavalry of the french army in algeria. the men dress in arab costume, with the white turban on their heads, a short red jacket, and baggy blue turkish breeches with boots of red morocco leather. they also wear a huge red cloak in cold weather. [illustration: aspahi, or native cavalryman of the french army in algeria.] they are mounted on small grey arab horses, and sit in a very high-peaked saddle, and the horses all wear blinkers. altogether they make very picturesque soldiers, and at the same time are good riders and brave fighters. * * * * * a tramping camp. prom biskra on the sahara we started' on a walking tour among the mountains of the desert. we got a couple of tents, bedding, camp furniture, and food, and two mules to carry it all. we also got two arabs to guide us and be generally useful. their names were rahmoun and ibrahim. our preparations did not take us long, and we were soon camped out on the desert, far from other human habitations, in the glorious sunshine of north africa. at night, although the air was keen and cold, we had our beds put outside the tent in the open, and we slept under the stars. the drawback to camping was the difficulty in getting fresh water and firewood. we generally carried bottles of fresh water with us, as even when we were able to find a trickle of water in a river-bed, it was frequently brackish or half salt. [illustration: "we were soon camped out on the desert, far from other human habitations, in the glorious sunshine of north africa."] then there were no trees or bushes with which to light our fire, so we had to collect the smallest sticks and straws to act as "punk" and loaded up any parched plants that we could find, and these, together with twigs and branches of little thorn tufts, enabled us to make a fire. it was not a big one, but then a scout does not need a bonfire to cook his food. * * * * * a fortified farm. we left the railway to face the open stony desert and arid rocky mountains with the greatest keenness, in the bright sun and clear air of southern algeria. the last bit of civilisation that we saw was a french. colonist's farm, fortified with a strong loopholed tower, in which the farmer and his family could take refuge and stand a siege if the arabs should rise in rebellion. these fortified farms are to be seen in many parts of algeria, and are a sign, of the farmers _being prepared_ for what is _possible_, though it may not be _probable_. if our own people in south africa had prepared their homesteads for defence in the same way against the kaffirs, the zulus, the basutos, and the matabele tribes, they would have saved themselves in very many cases from death at the hands of these savage warriors when they rose at different times in rebellion against the white men. any boy scout who goes later on to farm in an oversea dominion where there are fighting natives will do well to remember this, and to make one of his farm buildings defensible, so that it cannot be attacked or burnt by the enemy, and where he and his family can stand a siege of some weeks, having food, water, and ammunition always ready inside it. this is _being prepared_, and not leaving things to chance. * * * * * cliff homes. our way next led us through a mighty gorge between the mountains. there were high, rocky cliffs on either side, and a stream running among the stones at the bottom of it. this ravine we clambered through for five or six miles, passing on the way an arab village of flat-roofed mud huts perched on the side of the cliffs like swallows' nests. and not far from them were holes and caves in the cliffs in which some of the arab tribes lived. many of them were so difficult to get at that the inhabitants got to them by means of ropes lowered down over the edge of the cliff. * * * * * a mountain of salt. the romans in the old days had marched, fought, and colonised all over algeria, and their doings have been recorded by their history writers. one of these, herodotus, has described how in one part of algeria there were many wonders, such as springs of water in which the water came out boiling, donkeys which had horns like rams' horns on their heads, and lastly that there was a great mountain made of solid salt. of course, he got a good deal laughed at, and was entirely disbelieved by the romans who stayed at home, but all the same his yarns were not far off the truth. we ourselves were camped near one of the numerous hot springs in algeria, hammam mousketine, it was called; clouds of steam used to rise from it always. also, we met many english sportsmen tramping and camping among the mountains in search of the "moufflon," a kind of mountain wild sheep, which, at a short distance, looks very like a donkey with big ram's horns on its head. in the course of our tramp we paid a visit to the salt mountain, and found that herodotus had told nothing more than the truth. the mountain is about feet high, and about three miles long, and consists of a jumble of crags and fissures, chiefly of yellow sandstone, in which are imbedded great blocks and sheets of salt. the natives for miles round come with picks and mattocks, and cut as much of it as their donkeys can carry to market. * * * * * in a gale. our next march took us across endless dry water-courses with steep sides, which had to be clambered up and down under a hot sun. there was no regular road, because every downfall of rain alters the course of the ravines. so we had to make the best of our way in the general direction of the place we were making for. it is wonderful how easily you lose your direction when you get into a mass of ravines unless you notice carefully your bearings beforehand, and either make for some good landmark, such as a distant mountain peak, or else keep your direction by noticing the position of the sun. in doing this, you must, of course, allow for the sun also changing his position in the sky as the hours pass by. we used the sun to some extent this day, but after a time a cold breeze sprang up, and clouds began to gather, so that in a very little while the sky was overcast and the sun was no longer any guide. then came on a cold, cold wind, which got more bitter as we struggled against it. but, cold as it was, i did not find that scouts' kit was so cool as people try to make out; the wind certainly whistled about my knees, but i did not feel so very cold then. we searched for some sort of sheltered place to pitch our tent, and found plenty of such in the dry bed of the river under the cliffs, which formed its banks, but we dared not use it, as rain clouds were banking up, and if heavy rain were to come the dry river bed would in a very short time be a raging torrent. so we struggled on, and at last found a ledge among some rocks above the river bed, which just afforded room for our tent, and here we pitched it. and only just in time, for before we had got it well up the rain began to come down, and continued to rattle on our canvas roof for the rest of the night. but the storm had come with so little warning, and the wind had come before the rain, so we comforted ourselves with the scouts' weather mottoes:-- "long foretold, long last; short notice, soon past." and "when the wind's before the rain, soon you may make sail again; when the rain's before the wind, then your sheets and halyards mind." sure enough, next morning the sky cleared, and a beautiful sunny day enabled us to carry out our next march in comfort. * * * * * arabs' candles. our next camp was a delightful one--in place of the open, dry, stormy desert, we found ourselves in groves of young palm trees on the river bank, with plenty of fresh water and plenty of firewood. so we were in luxury, and stayed two days in this spot to enjoy it to the full. we had the additional fun here of catching fish in the river with a hook and line attached to a stick cut from an oleander bush. we found some worms in the irrigated garden, and thus we were able to fish and to catch a good number of barbel. these made a great addition to our larder. a very useful tip to know in africa is that when all other wood is wet, dead palm branches will always light and burn well. they are most useful as torches in camp, and are nicknamed "arabs' candles." * * * * * a dragon's lair. we left our camp ground, with its palm trees down by the river, and with our tent and belongings packed on to two mules, and our two arabs as guides, trekked across a wide, stony plain under a blazing hot sun. not a particle of shade the whole way, nor a drop of water; every footstep had to be picked among the loose, jagged stones, and our way was continually barred by deep, dry water-courses, which had to be carefully clambered into and scrambled out of. it was a very trying day's march, but yet we enjoyed it. the views of the mountains around us were splendid. [illustration: el kantara] we were marching parallel with the wonderful range which stands like a turreted wall between algeria and the sahara. it is so regular in its outline that it looks almost as if built by the hands of giants, and in the centre is a narrow, broken gap, el kantara, through which run the road, the river, and the railway. [illustration: "the tooth," or the red castle mountain.] we passed on our way close under a solitary peak which stands out from the rest of the neighbouring mountains exactly in the likeness of a great red ruined castle, called by the arabs "the tooth." then we got into a deep ravine with red sandy cliffs on either side, and marching up its rocky bed we finally got in among the mountains, and there made our camp. after getting our tent pitched, and while the men were finding firewood, my wife and i started a bit of engineering work in order to obtain a water supply. we cleared out the little trickle of water which we found in the river bed, and digging a hollow in the sandy bed, we planted in it our india rubber bath, and diverted the trickle so that it ran into this, and so gave us a standing supply of clear water for our camp. it was quite a triumph of engineering, though we got pretty wet and muddy in carrying it out. then we went exploring among the hills, following up our gorge. we soon found that it became a narrow fissure between the mountains, so narrow that the overhanging rocks often nearly touched each other high above our heads. it was a most weird place--exactly the sort of spot where one might expect a dragon to dwell. * * * * * arab politeness. a thing that strikes one about the arabs is their politeness and readiness to do good turns. every arab we met as we tramped across the plains greeted us with "good morning" in arabic or french, and, though it must be a strange sight to them to see a white lady walking, and a man in shorts and shirt-sleeves (for i always wear the scout kit for camping), they never showed undue curiosity, and never thought of jeering at us as i fear would be the case in many places in england. [illustration: an arab tent. the goatskin slung on a tripod is full of water for the use of the family.] if they saw our mules in trouble, or found us pitching our camp, they were always ready to lend a hand without any idea of getting a reward or a tip for doing so. they have a good deal of the scout in them, and many tribes of them do not know what it is to live in a house-they are "nomads," that is, they are wanderers, and live always in tents, moving with their flocks and families from place to place where the grass gives the best pasture for their sheep and goats. their tents are large, low, widespread awnings of black or brown goats'-hair cloth, supported on numerous short poles. the tent ropes stretch in various directions, and round the whole they put up a hedge or "zareeba" of thorn bushes to keep out the jackals, and to keep in their goats during the night. in front of the tent hangs a goatskin slung on a tripod, and full of water for the use of the family. many arabs are well behaved and hospitable to strangers. but all are not so polite: there are some tribes who are pretty cunning thieves. our two arabs always patrolled round our camp at night with loaded rifle and revolver to drive off any would-be robbers, and our mules were shackled up at night with "handcuffs" on their fetlocks, and these were locked to prevent them being stolen. * * * * * the hot springs of hammam mousketine. the first thing one notices about the hot springs of hammam mousketine which i mentioned above, is clouds of steam coming up out of the bushes at different points. here you will find water bubbling up out of the ground and through a small mound of hard white or yellow crust. the water is boiling hot, and the crust is formed from salts and chemicals contained in the water drying on the surface. there are about a dozen of these springs and a large number of cones or mounds which have been springs, and which have choked themselves up or run dry. half a dozen of these cones, of about ten feet high, stand together in a group, and the arabs have a curious story about them, which i will tell you in the next paragraph. also close by is a great waterfall about a hundred yards wide by fifty feet high, but all turned to stone by the same process. * * * * * the arab marriage. a rich arab named ali cassam had a beautiful sister named ourida. ali thought her the best woman in the world, and although she was his sister he determined to marry her. such a marriage is considered just as unholy by the mohammedans as it is with us, and so everybody was against it. but ali was great and powerful, and he thought that by making a magnificent show of it he would get over the feelings of those who said it was wrong. [illustration: the wedding party were all there in their places, but all were turned into stone.] so a splendid feast was arranged, and the ceremony began on a very big scale. the priest abdallah undertook to carry out the religious part of it, and had just taken the first step in the marriage service of placing the bridegroom's hand on the bride's head when there was a tremendous flash of lightning, fire rushed out of the earth, the day was suddenly turned into night, and boiling water spouted up in all directions. when the sun came out again the wedding party were all there in their places, but all were turned into stone, and the boiling water still bubbles up out of the earth round about them. personally i could not recognise exactly the actors in this drama; it needed a lot of imagination to believe that one mound represented ali and another ourida, while abdallah was recognisable by his turban! this was all that i saw of them. * * * * * a good turn to a donkey. owing to the absence of roads in the country the arabs do not use carts. all the carrying is done by camels, mules, or donkeys. the donkeys are the commonest, being the cheapest; and very patient, hard-working little servants they are. on one of our tramps we came across an arab standing very forlornly by his donkey, which had fallen down. there was the little beast lying on its side with its huge load of halfa grass partly across it, and the owner quite at a loss to know what to do. this "halfa" or "esparto" grass is collected by the arabs on the mountain side, and brought down and sold to merchants to go and make paper in england. it weighs very heavy, which we soon found when we went to the assistance of the arab, and lifted the load off the donkey. the little animal seemed in no hurry to rise from his comfortable position on the ground, and the arab was proceeding with a big stick to hint to him that it was time to get up, when my wife intervened, and showed the arab that this was no way to treat the good little beast. [illustration: . in distress.] having induced him at last to rise, the load of grass was up-ended, the donkey put broadside on to it, and the burden was quickly hoisted on to its back again. [illustration: . all hands to the rescue.] so we had been able to do a little good turn to the man, though the donkey did not probably appreciate it quite so much at first, but he did in the end, for as soon as his load was securely on his back the man started to whack him on along his road. but again my wife put in a remonstrance, and the arab, grasping her meaning, refrained from using his stick, and coming back to us he gave us each a hearty handshake, as if to show his gratitude for our help and his determination to treat his four-footed friend with greater kindness in the future. [illustration: . all pleased except the donkey.] * * * * * a camp invention. we were awfully sorry to finish our tramping camp. it was over much too soon, but in the short time that we were at it we picked up lots of health and enjoyment, and also a good many useful camp hints. [illustration: whenever we had a moment to spare she set to work to scrub the saucepan.] one of these--like so many great discoveries--was found by accident. my wife, like a good scout, kept everything very clean in camp, and our joke was that whenever there was a moment to spare she would set to work to scrub the saucepan. that seemed to be her favourite job, using a handful of sand and a twist of coarse grass, and the result was a bright, clean saucepan in which to cook our food. a good deal of sickness comes in camps when dirty saucepans are used. when she was not cleaning the saucepan her other spare minutes were spent in cleaning up the camp ground, and burning all scraps. one morning when doing this she made the great discovery. it was this--how to make toast without a good fire. she had wrapped some unused slices of bread in some waste paper, and put the whole lot among the ashes of our palm-leaf fire in order to burn them. the paper gradually charred and burnt itself away, and left the bread behind it nicely roasted into crisp brown toast! * * * * * truffle hunting. another tip which we learnt in camp was how to find truffles. these are a kind of root akin to a mushroom, which grow entirely underground. they are very nice to eat, and command a good price in the market. in france the people find them with pigs; the pigs are able to scent them, and proceed to root them up with their snouts, when the man steps in and collars the truffle. the arabs showed us how to find them on the desert, where they are quite plentiful. we had to examine the ground pretty carefully as we went along, and where we saw a few little cracks in the surface leading out from one centre where the earth bulged up a little--there we dug down two or three inches and found the truffle. * * * * * an ex-boy scout. at one railway station in algeria we found a motor-car waiting to take us to our destination. the driver, unlike so many motor-car drivers, set to work to carry our luggage himself, and worked for us most willingly and well. he spoke english perfectly, with a south african accent. we soon found that he came from the transvaal, and had learnt his energetic helpfulness and courtesy through having been a boy scout in johannesburg! * * * * * the story of the siwash rock. the story of the "arab marriage" reminds me of another legend about rocks, but this one was a red indian story about a rock in british columbia, canada. the arab story showed that the arabs respect decent behaviour, and this one, on the opposite side of the world, shows that the red indians also give honour to manliness and purity. [illustration: tunisian arab boy wearing a "chekia" or fez.] [illustration: tunisian woman out for a walk--black mask and roomy "bags."] just at the entrance to the harbour of vancouver stands a solitary pinnacle of rock, straight and upright. it is called the siwash rock. a young chief had made himself renowned for his wonderful courage in war and for his sense of duty to his tribe and to his religion, and for his courtesy to women. he had married a wife, and when she was about to give birth to a child they did as laid down in the laws of the tribe, that is, they both bathed in the sea to be so clean that no wild animal should be able to scent them. this would ensure their child being clean in thought and deed. the woman returned to their tent, but the young chief went on swimming to make sure that he should be clean and pure for the birth of his son. while he swam a canoe came along with four giants in it. these shouted to him to get out of their way, but he only laughed back at them that he was swimming on important business. but they shouted to him that he must cease swimming in the channel, as they were messengers of the great god, and that if he did not they would turn him into a fish, or a tree, or a stone. [illustration: a spahi (native cavalry soldier) admired by an abab boy scout of the future.] but he only replied that he must be clean for the birth of his child, and therefore he meant to go on swimming, no matter what the risk was to him. this quite nonplussed the giants. they could not run him down, because if their canoe were to touch a human being their power over men would be lost. just then, when they were pausing, wondering what to do, they heard the cry of a baby come from the woods on the shore. then one of the giants stood up and chanted to the swimmer a message from the great god that, because he had bravely held out against all their threats in order that his child should be the son of a clean father, he should never die, but should remain for ever as a reminder to other warriors to do their duty, and to obey the law of the tribe. and his wife and child, too, should be for ever near him. so the moment he touched the shore he became the great upright rock, now called the siwash rock. and a short distance from him, in the woods, are two more rocks, a big one and a little one beside it--his wife and child. they are monuments to the indian belief that those who do their duty in spite of any difficulty or danger are the best men and the greatest heroes. * * * * * tunis. the souks. perhaps you do not know what a "souk" is? imagine yourself in a long, narrow tunnel lit with skylights here and there, with small open shops along either side. that is what one of the "souks" or bazaars in tunis is like. there are miles of them, and they are generally crowded from end to end with the white-cloaked arabs and shrouded figures of women with black masks over their faces, all busy shopping, buying or selling. each trade has a souk to itself. thus, in one souk you will find nothing but shoemakers' shops one after another, in the next will be all coppersmiths, in another the cloth merchants, and so on. there still stand the "bardo" or palace of the "bey" or king of tunis, and the "kasbah" or castle in which the tunisian pirates of old days used to imprison the christians whom they captured at sea; and there is still the old slave market where they used to sell them. many an english sailor has been lost for ever to his home and friends in that dismal place. but on one occasion the prisoners got the better of their captors. as many as ten thousand of them had been collected, and they made a plan to escape, and, rising against their captors, they overwhelmed them by force of numbers and got away. "home, sweet home," an interesting spot in the city is the old christian cemetery, in which lies buried the man who wrote the well-known song, "home, sweet home." most people think that it is an english song, but the composer was in reality an american--a clerk in the consulate--named john howard payne. * * * * * carthage. close to tunis is the site of carthage, the capital of the great country of that name in north africa. there is very little to be seen of it to-day, for the city was destroyed by its enemies, and the stones were taken to build the present town of tunis. it was founded nearly years before the time of christ, and was for hundreds of years a powerful and prosperous country till years before christ, when it was conquered by the romans, and the city was given over to the flames. the city was at that time twelve miles round, and was defended by huge walls sixty feet high and thirty-three feet thick with rooms inside them. in the lower storey were stables for horses and elephants (of which there were ), and the upper storey served as barracks for over , soldiers, who formed the garrison for defence of the city. but very few of these soldiers were carthaginians. the carthaginian young men did not care about soldiering: they preferred to loaf about and do nothing but watch public games, and foreigners or poor men were hired to do the soldiering for the country. the country was large and rich, and had many colonies oversea and plenty of ships. it looked as though no enemy could ever arise to come and attack her. but what seemed so unlikely actually happened in the end. the romans had no great fleet to speak of, but they had a fine army, and they meant business. they put their soldiers into crowded transports, and sailed across the short distance of ocean that lay between the two countries--not much farther than hamburg in germany is from hull in yorkshire. thus the country which, like germany, had a fine, well-trained army, landed a force in carthaginia, the country which, like britain, had a great fleet and great colonies, but only a small army, and it smashed up the carthaginians through their not being prepared for it. boar hunting. from tunis one sees to the southward a mountain called zaghouan. though forty miles away it was from here that the carthaginians got their water supply, and they conveyed it by a small canal, which they built all the way to carthage. [illustration: you can imagine the fun of having a lot of wildly excited arabs firing from the opposite side of the circle straight in your direction, with the animal in between you.] that canal still serves to bring the water into tunis, though it is now a good deal over two thousand years old! i went to zaghouan once to hunt wild boars. we got on that occasion a hyena. it was an exciting time when our arab beaters, working in a big circle, gradually closed in on him from all sides. it was exciting because every beater carried a gun, and every man meant having a shot at that hyena. you can imagine the fun of having a lot of wildly excited arabs firing from the opposite side of the circle straight in your direction at the animal in between you! fortunately on this occasion the first few shots killed him, and there were no other deaths to record. the arabs themselves see no special danger in it, because, they say, the guns are all pointing downwards at the animal, and if the bullet misses him it will only bury itself in the ground. that is all very well, but it might as likely as not hit a stone and glance up again and catch one in the eye or elsewhere that might be unpleasant. personally, i did not hold with that kind of shooting, but the arabs seemed to enjoy it so much and were so cheery and jolly over it that i, too, had to smile and look as if i liked it. there is plenty of game near tunis, and this day we saw two dead wild boars being brought in. * * * * * elephants used in war. in the old days, as i told you, carthage was the london of that time, being a city of , inhabitants, and the capital of a great empire, which had overseas colonies in spain, corsica, and sicily. for a very long time it was at war with the romans, who were the great military nation then, and at first the carthaginians got the better of their adversaries. one great help to them was their corps of elephants. these elephants had scythes fixed on to their tusks, so that when they charged they not only cut down the serried ranks of their enemies, but they also trampled them underfoot. in their great fight outside carthage, the army belonging to the carthaginians under a greek officer, xanthippus, carried the day with a grand charge of elephants, and thus defeated and routed the romans under regulus. of the , men who formed the roman force only escaped. regulus and a number of his best officers were captured and held as prisoners of war for several years. * * * * * a brave man faces torture. as time went on, the carthaginians tried to make peace, and they sent their prisoner, regulus, over to rome to persuade the roman government to come to terms. they made him promise on his word of honour that if he failed to bring about peace he would return again to carthage, and become a prisoner once more. when he got to rome, instead of urging them to make peace, he told his countrymen to go on with the war. the roman government were inclined to do this, but at the same time they saw that if they did, regulus would probably be put to death by the carthaginians for not having procured peace, so they did not know what to do. regulus, seeing their difficulty, told them that he was an old man and his life did not matter, and he pretended that he had already taken slow poison. so the romans resolved to continue the war, and regulus went back to carthage, according to his promise, and gave himself up to the carthaginians. [illustration: an arab boy and his "moke."] you might think that they would have admired him for his courage and sense of honour, but the carthaginians, as i told you, were a cowardly lot; they hired soldiers to do their fighting for them, and, like all cowards, they were cruel, too; so instead of respecting this plucky old roman, they punished him by shutting him into a box lined with sharp spikes, so that he could get no rest nor sleep. then they cut off his eyelids, and took him out of his dark cell into the blazing sunlight, so that he was blinded, and finally they killed him by crucifying him. supposing that we were invaded by an enemy who had a strong army, and we had nothing but paid soldiers to defend ourselves with because our men were too cowardly or too unpatriotic to learn how to defend their homes. if such an enemy were to defeat our weak army, and then order us to destroy every house in london, how should we like it? should not we feel, like the carthaginians, enraged with our government who had not made the country strong, and also enraged with ourselves because we had not trained ourselves to defend our homes before it was too late? the carthaginians in despair sent more messengers to the roman general at their gates, begging for thirty days' grace in which to make their arrangements, but the conquerors sent these men back with the order that the destruction of the city was to begin at once. then a change came over the carthaginians. from a mob of despairing, panic-stricken wretches they organised themselves into a defence force. they barred the city gates, and started to make weapons to replace those which they had surrendered to their enemies. night and day they worked--men, women, and children. they manufactured daily shields, swords, spears, and balls for their catapults, and the women cut off their hair and plaited it into ropes for the catapults. * * * * * a catapult. [illustration: a carthaginian catapult.] the catapult which the carthaginians used was not the little implement that a boy uses nowadays; it was a big kind of windlass, by which a number of ropes were twisted up tightly till they acted as a spring to a strong wooden arm at the end of which was a leather cup. this held a stone about the size of a man's head. when the spring was let go, this arm was flung violently forward, and the stone was thereby hurled into the air, and flew with great force for or yards. the catapults served the purpose of artillery in those days when gunpowder had not been invented. the carthaginians, when a favourable wind blew, sent a lot of fire boats filled with faggots and tar to drift among the roman fleet and burn their ships. they also got together the wrecks of their own ships which had been smashed up by the enemy, and from them they built up others and sallied out of port in order to astonish the romans. but they did not make any bold attacks, consequently the romans only sat tight and got reinforcements over, and in the end they attacked and forced their way into the city. there the fighting in the streets was very close and bitter. for six days it went on, but the stern discipline and valour of the romans gradually told, and very soon the whole city was in their hands. fifty thousand inhabitants were allowed to escape, and the city was given over to the flames. one lot of defenders the romans refused to spare. some of them took refuge, and made a last stand, in the temple of aesculapius, and among them was the wife of hasdrubal, the commander of the carthaginians, and her two sons. hasdrubal himself saved his skin by surrendering to scipio, the roman commander, but his wife stood up on the temple, which was now on fire, and reviled him as a coward. then she killed her two boys, and threw herself into the fire rather than give in to the latin enemy. * * * * * malta. a home of scouting. malta was a home of scouting, since the knights of st. john, who settled there after the crusades, were typical scouts. they knew how to be prepared i remember reading the diary of a traveller who visited malta in their time--some three hundred years ago. he said that one morning a pirate ship was sighted off the island. the grand master at once ordered one of the fighting ships to get ready, and called upon the knights to man it. any who desired to go were to parade in front of the castile palace (now the mess house of the royal artillery). some fifty or sixty would be sufficient, but instead of this over three hundred turned up on parade with their retainers and men-at-arms ready to start then and there. in the armoury can be seen among many others the suit of armour worn by the grand master wignacourt. one cannot but admire the beautiful fitting of the different folds of armour, made so that the arms and legs could be bent and yet thoroughly protected against wounds; also the whole is beautifully engraved with ornamental designs. among these a quick-sighted scout will at once notice the fleur-de-lys, or scout's badge, on the breast. * * * * * never say die. the badge also occurs on another badge of the knights, that is, on the maltese cross, which all of them wore. this cross was eight-pointed in shape, and was originally derived from the skull and crossbones; it came from the crossbones, and served to remind the knights that it was their duty to fight to the death and never to give in. [illustration: a notice on the walls of the fortifications of malta, where caper-plants grow plentifully, says: "no one is allowed to cut capers here except the commanding royal engineer." this is how i picture him.] their motto might well have been that which the boy scouts use to-day: _never say die till you are dead_--struggle on against any difficulty or danger, don't give in to it, and you will probably come out successful in the end. * * * * * the maltese cross. most of the oversea scouts wear, in addition to the scout's badge of the fleur-de-lys, the badge belonging to their country. for instance, the canadian scouts wear the maple leaf, and the new zealanders wear a leaf of the tree fern. if the maltese scouts want a badge of their own they could not do better than adopt the maltese cross of the knights, and then stick to, and act up to the meaning of it. * * * * * how malta came to be british. when napoleon was trying to conquer the whole of europe a hundred years ago, he proceeded to take malta. but the maltese people rose, and held the rest of the island against him, and sent and asked the british under lord nelson to come to their assistance. this was promptly done, and the british fleet laid siege to the french in valetta, so that no supplies of food could be brought to the french, and some british troops were landed to help the maltese. thus the french were defeated, and the maltese handed themselves and their island over to become a colony of the british empire. one celebrated officer who largely helped to defeat the french in malta was admiral troubridge. someone was condoling with nelson once on his losing his right arm in action. the gallant seaman replied cheerily: "my good sir, i have got three right arms. here is one (raising his left arm), and there are my other two (pointing to capt. ball and capt. troubridge)." at the time of the british investment of the french in malta, the maltese themselves were suffering from famine, and their state was so deplorable, and the british authorities so slow to help them, that commodore troubridge could bear it no longer, and to ease their sufferings he caused some grain ships at messina to be seized and brought to malta and their contents to be given out to feed the starving people. commodore troubridge began life as a ship's boy at fifteen, and rose from seaman to be an officer through his steady attention to his duty, so in all ways he was a good example for a scout to follow. malta remains to-day a british colony, small in size--not much bigger than the isle of wight--but having a numerous population of people speaking their own language, and at the same time loyal to king george and the british empire. malta is chiefly valuable as having a harbour, dockyard, and coal stores for our mediterranean fleet, and is therefore strongly fortified and garrisoned by british troops, both infantry and artillery. the maltese themselves supply some companies of fortress artillery and two battalions of infantry militia. * * * * * maltese boy scouts. now, also, they have their boy scouts, whom i saw during my visit. for sea scouts it is an ideal place, with its fine harbours, and its coasts with their numerous creeks and landing places. the warm climate also induces much to bathing, and the maltese are naturally good swimmers and handy men in boats. their boats are very graceful in shape; they are called "daisas," which is spelt "dghaisa," but i never could see the use of the letters "gh" in the word; it sounds all right without them. [illustration: a maltese "dghaisa."] * * * * * my dghaisa. long ago i was quartered in malta for three years, and i greatly enjoyed my life there, especially the boating and the bathing. after the south african war the people of malta very kindly sent me a beautiful present, and, i suppose on account of my known love of boating, it took the form of a silver model of a sailing dghaisa. it was so accurately and carefully made that not only did it include oars and boat-hooks, etc., but even the thole-pins and the scoop for bailing out water. i was, of course, delighted to see the place again after twenty years' absence, and to see so many of my old friends. nothing seemed very much changed in all that time, except that the boy scouts had come into existence there as in every other important part of the british empire. * * * * * sicily. any boy who has read marryat's _midshipman easy_ will remember how that cheeky young naval officer and a friend of his went for a spree in an italian sailing boat from malta to sicily, which is eighty miles away, and how their spree turned into a pretty desperate adventure. the boys were attacked by their boat's crew during the night, and they only saved themselves by using their pistols on the italian desperadoes. they eventually landed on the sicilian coast not far from syracuse. anyone who has read count erbach's diary of his visit to malta in the time of the knights of st. john will remember his exciting experiences when, on leaving the island, for sicily, the vessel in which he sailed had got within sight of syracuse when a rakish-looking craft, which proved to be an algerian pirate, ran out from under the land, and chased and captured his ship, and carried him off a prisoner to tunis. going farther back, every boy who has read his greek and roman history knows how syracuse was in ancient days one of the great war harbours of the mediterranean. it was the arsenal where fleets fitted out, and the depot where they brought back their booties of valuables and slaves after their victorious raids. you may imagine, then, that it was interesting to us to steam into the beautiful bay on a calm, sunny morning, past the old fort which guards the entrance, and into the back of the island on which the town now stands. all was looking sweet and peaceful where for hundreds of years had been the scene of strife and adventure. the cathedral and circus. the walls of the cathedral are supported by immense columns, which, years before christ was born, formed the walls of the temple of jupiter. many are the signs of the greek and roman occupation of the place. we visited the great open-air circus where gladiators used to fight each other to the death, and where slaves were given to lions to devour before the eager eyes of ten thousand spectators. the seats are still there, and the dungeons of the slaves, and the dens of the wild beasts. * * * * * the ear of dionysius. in the neighbourhood are the great quarries in which the slaves not only worked, but also lived. they were made to cut the walls so that they inclined inwards, and therefore could not be climbed. the only entrance to the quarries was by ladder, so there was no escape for a man once he got in there. there are huge caves cut in the walls of the quarries in which the slaves lived, and one of these caves has been cut into a narrow cleft exactly on the principle of the inside of your ear. so that anyone sitting at the top of the cleft can hear every word that is being spoken or even whispered in the cave below. it is said that dionysius, the ruler of syracuse, had this made so that he could sit in the cleft (where there is a little chamber with private door) unknown to the people in the cave, and there he could overhear all that the prisoners talked about and plotted among themselves. the whole cave is called "the ear of dionysius." i remember a similar kind of "ear" in a natural cave in matabeleland. it was here that one of the native sorcerers used to hide himself, and when he whispered through a crack in the rocks it could be heard all over the cave. the people believed that it was the voice of a god speaking to them, so they used to come and pray to him for advice, and the old villain told them that they must rise up and murder all the white people, and their chief, lobengula, who had long been dead, would come to life and lead them against their enemies once more. he had nearly persuaded them to come out on the war-path, when burnham, the american scout, made his way into the secret part of the cave and shot the supposed god while he was preaching murder. * * * * * carts in sicily. a curious thing that strikes you in sicily is the kind of cart and harness used by the country people. [illustration: a sicilian painted cart and decorated harness.] the cart is a light, two-wheeled affair of an ordinary kind, but every inch of it inside and out as far as the ends of the shafts and down the spokes of the wheels, is painted in gaudy colours, for the most part yellow, blue, red, and green. pictures of incidents in bible history, of the war against the turks in tripoli, of ballet dancers, etc., are to be seen on most of these carts, while on others ornamental patterns only are painted. then the harness of the horse is of a very gaudy kind when new, but being largely made up of cheap gold braid and coloured cloth, it soon fades and looks tawdry. * * * * * a musical saddle. in place of a bit there is a steel noseband on the horse's bridle by which he is driven and guided, and instead of the ordinary pad on the horse's back, a great ornamental brass affair is used. years ago i bought one of these pads and brought it home as a curiosity. a friend met me as i was bringing it along, and said: "hullo! what on earth is this? surely it must be some sort of musical instrument. look here! i am getting up a concert; you _must_ bring your instrument and play it there. will you?" of course, i always like to oblige a friend, and i did not like to disappoint this one, so i meekly promised. i chose a beautiful piece of high-class music, and got the orchestra to practise it over as accompaniment to my instrument, the "sellura." i tuned it by winding the brass flags which adorn it. i fingered the knobs up and down the front of it as if they were the notes; the big projections on either side i pulled as if to alter the tone. and the music? well, i got that out of a comb and paper affixed to the back, and into which i sang. but, mixed up with the other instruments, it sounded all right, and i got lots of applause and lots of questions afterwards as to where you could buy these wonderful organs, and how long did it take one to learn to play them, and so on! * * * * * taormina. six hundred feet up on a mountain spur overhanging the sea stands the little town of taormina. long ago it was chosen as a beauty spot by the romans and greeks, and here they had their villas and baths and theatre. the theatre stands to this day, in ruins, it is true, but sufficiently whole to show what an ancient theatre was like. one can sit in the upper circle and look down upon the "pit" and "orchestra," and the marble pillars and wall which formed the back of the stage in those days in place of scenery. but an earthquake has thrown down the greater part of the back wall, and has thereby opened up a beautiful view of the coast of blue water and white sand far below, and of the purple slopes and snowy crest of mount etna above--a scene such as no scene painter could have equalled. [illustration: the theatre at taormina.] among the quaint and ancient buildings of the town stand the old monastery and church of san domenico. the monastery is now the chief hotel, and with the splendid view from its windows and its pretty gardens makes a charming place to stay at in this most charming spot. * * * * * naples. - vesuvius. naples is a city lying around a great bay on the italian coast, and behind it, about ten miles distant, rises the double-peaked mountain, vesuvius. vesuvius is, as you know, a volcano and a thin cloud of smoke is always coming out of it. when i visited naples a few years ago, the mountain was shaped like this: [illustration: ] now it is like this [illustration: ] it lost its peak in one night, and i was there the night that it happened. i was sleeping peacefully in my hotel, when i was awakened in the middle of the night by heavy bangings, and it at once occurred to me that the artillery were firing guns in the street below my window. i thought: "hullo, here's a revolution or something going on," and i rushed out on to my balcony. the street below was empty, but in other streets i could hear people calling to each other and crying out. then came more of the awful banging, like claps of thunder, all round. then there was suddenly a great blaze of red light up in the sky, and i realised that vesuvius was breaking out. it was just like a fountain of fire squirting up, with volumes of smoke and steam above it all lit up with the glow, and round it jagged, white lightning kept blazing and darting about. soon the flames were dimmed, the whole outbreak became a dull glare, even the houses round us grew indistinct, and what seemed to be a regular london fog set in. but it was not a fog; it was a cloud of light dust--the ashes from the volcano, which had begun to fall over naples. when daylight came you could no longer see the mountain, although you could hear it rumbling like thunder. you could scarcely see across the street, so thick was the ash fog. the fine dust got into one's eyes and nose, and everything, indoors and out, was covered with a thick coating of grit. at the foot of vesuvius a great stream of red-hot lava mud slid down the mountain side, straight across fields and roads, and over farms and villages, slowly but steadily pushing its way, the country people fleeing before it with such of their property as they were able to bundle on to carts or carry away with them. * * * * * pompeii. but on the whole the people were not so frightened after the first outbreak as one might have expected. yet they had every reason to be, because near the mountain stand the ruins of the ancient roman city of pompeii, which was overwhelmed, not by lava, but by just such a fall of ashes from a great eruption of vesuvius about thirty years after the death of christ. the ashes had fallen lightly at first, but so thickly that in a very short space of time the whole city was buried under tons of it, and the people were crushed or suffocated in their homes. you will find the whole story of it in the novel called _the last days of pompeii_, but if you ever go to pompeii the ruins which have been dug out tell their own story better than any book can do. you walk through silent streets of beautifully decorated houses, of shops, theatres, and baths; the pavement is scored with the wheelmarks of the chariots, and in some of the houses the skeletons of the inhabitants are still to be seen. * * * * * boy scouts of naples. to-day the whole country around the foot of the mountain is thickly populated, and towns and villages stand on the slopes of vesuvius as if there were no danger of his ever breaking out again. and naples itself is a great, flourishing city with big factories, and a busy seaport where ships of every nation congregate. and last, but not least, it has its boy scouts. they are italian boys, but they dress and work just the same as their british brothers. they have done a lot of camping out, and are all very good at cooking their grub. and also they do a bit of sea scouting in the splendid harbour and bay of naples. on an orient steamship our floating home. our ship of twelve thousand tons, r.m.s. _orsova_, was more like a floating hotel than a sea-going vessel, and the passengers living in bright, comfortable cabins with a fine dining saloon and first-rate food, could hardly imagine the work that was going on in other parts of the ship to insure their travelling with such ease and speed and safety. a tour round the ship, such as we made one day, is full of interest and wonder. the second-class passengers are housed and fed just as well as those in the first-class, and there is accommodation for of them. in the third-class, again, they are wonderfully comfortable in cabins for two or for four people each, with nice dining and sitting-saloons, and a roomy, roofed-in deck where they can enjoy the fresh air in all weathers. there is room for of these, and the cost of the journey from england to australia is only pounds, which means board and lodging of the best description for six weeks while doing the journey out. the crew, of course, live forward, and, including seamen, stokers, engineers, stewards, etc., they number about men. on the navigating staff of officers, quartermasters, and look-out men depends much of our safety at sea. then down in the depths of the ship are the engineers and stokers, who make the ship go. our chief engineer, like all chief engineers, is a scotsman, and he loves and takes a pride in his engines, and is glad to show them. in rudyard kipling's song of the chief engineer, he describes him as looking upon his engines as almost the work of god, in their wonderful power and intricate working. * * * * * in the engine room. and it is indeed an impressive sight to stand below these great monsters of steel and watch them faithfully and untiringly pounding at their work, all in order, and exactly in agreement with each other, taking no notice of night or day, of storm or calm, but slinging along at all times, doing their duty with an energetic goodwill which makes them seem almost human--almost like gigantic boy scouts! the great steel shaft which the four pistons keep driving round is nearly yards in length, and carries the big bronze screw propeller at its end, which thrusts the ship along. there are two of these, one on each side of the ship, which is therefore called a twin-screw vessel. there are four cylinders to each shaft, and the same lot of steam is used, passing from one cylinder to the other, beginning with the small high-pressure cylinder, which it enters at its highest strength, something like lb. to the square inch, and ending with the big low-pressure cylinder, where the pressure is only about lb. then there are numbers of other engines. one for condensing the salt water from the sea and making it into fresh water for the boilers. this is done by boiling up the salt water so that the watery part of it becomes steam, while the salty part remains behind as salt; the steam, when cooled, becomes fresh water, and is then fit to be used in the boilers to make steam. * * * * * the stokehold. then we go into the stokehold among the mighty boilers. here are powerful, grimy men at work getting coal out of the coal bunkers, and shovelling it into the furnaces. it sounds easy to shovel coal on to a fire, but it takes a lot of practice to get the knack of stoking a fire properly, and a lot of strength and skill to throw great shovelfuls quickly and well into the right part of the furnace. the stokers work in gangs for four hours at a time, under "leading stokers," whose duty it is to see that the proper pressure of steam is kept up in the boilers by the heat of the fires. anyone who has travelled on an ocean-going steamer will know the sound which comes up from the interior of the ship every twenty minutes or so, which sounds like a rataplan being hammered by someone for his own amusement. this is in reality the signal which is given by striking iron with a shovel, and can be heard by the men all over the stokehold, telling them to stoke up their various fires. besides the main engines there are pumping engines for supplying water to the boilers and to the various parts of the ship. then there are ice-making machines for keeping the food-storage rooms cold, and electric dynamos for supplying electric light all over the vessel, and for use in the laundry. * * * * * the laundry. this is an interesting department. here all the bed sheets, towels, tablecloths of the ship, and the linen of passengers are washed, dried, and ironed by machinery. the linen is put into a circular "drum" full of soapy water and whirled round and round till well washed. it is then partly dried by being put into another metal tub, which is whirled round by electricity at such a pace that the water flies out of the clothes. these are then put into a kind of mangle between hot steel rollers, which squeeze out any water that remains, and at the same time so heats the things that they come out quite dry and ironed into the airing-room, where they receive a final drying in hot air. the ironing of small articles like shirts and blouses is done by a few laundrymaids using flat-irons heated by electricity. * * * * * our birthday cake. while on board we celebrated our birthday--that is, my wife's birthday and my own (for by a curious chance we were both born on the same day, though not in the same year!)--and at tea-time a beautiful birthday cake appeared upon the scene, beautifully sugared and decorated with our names and appropriate inscriptions, just as if it had been made ashore. i do not know how the knowledge of the birthday got about, but i do know that the cake was a most excellent one, and the kind thought of the baker in making it was greatly appreciated by both of us. * * * * * food and feeding. after seeing the stokehold, the engines, and the laundry, we visited the kitchens. the feeding of the passengers is an important point, for on board are no fewer than first-class, second-class, third-class passengers, and over officers and crew--more than people altogether. the voyage to australia takes nearly six weeks, so you can imagine that a pretty large amount of food has to be carried on board to take the ship out and home again. tons of fresh meat and vegetables, butter, and eggs are stored in ice-cold cellars. each day a supply is brought up and put into iced larders for that day's issue. here are some of the amounts taken in the ship for one voyage: tons bacon, , eggs, / tons butter, , oranges, lb. jam. in the great kitchen are a dozen cooks at work preparing the meals for all classes--the cooking is exactly the same for all. also the quality of food is the same, except that the first-class get more variety and choice of different dishes. in the bakery is made the daily supply of bread for the whole ship, and also baked puddings, cakes, and sweetmeats. * * * * * potato peeling. there were lots of interesting machines used in the kitchen to save time and labour. for instance, there was a machine for peeling potatoes; a round metal tub in which the potatoes were rushed round and round until their skins were rubbed off, and they were ready for the cooking-pot. there were egg-boiling machines, which, working by clockwork, kept the eggs in boiling water for whatever time was desired, and then took them out without any attention on the part of the cook. there was a bread-slicing machine and a plate-washing machine, the dirty plates being placed in iron racks and lowered into a tank where boiling water is dashed on to them from both sides, so that they clean themselves in no time. there was also a machine for kneading the dough for making bread. in fact, the whole place was a marvel of work and organisation all compressed into a very small space, and yet done most successfully and cleanly. * * * * * a good dinner. here is one day's bill of fare for the third-class passengers, which shows that they do not fare badly. i had some of it myself, and it was excellent. breakfast porridge with milk yarmouth bloaters hashed meat cold corned pork bread butter jam marmalade tea coffee cocoa dinner mulligatawny soup roast mutton potatoes mashed pumpkin suet pudding with syrup children--milk pudding bread cheese biscuits tea lancashire hot-pot cold meat salad pickles bread butter jam marmalade currant cake supper bread butter cocoa biscuits and cheese gruel for infants if required cocoa or coffee with biscuits at . a.m. * * * * * an echo of the zulu war. of two of the cooks with whom i talked, one had been twenty-three years in the service of the orient company and the other twenty-six years: and nearly all the ship's company had been in this ship four years, though their engagement only lasts for one voyage. so it looks as though the orient were a satisfactory line to serve with. one of the cooks had been a soldier in the wiltshire regiment, and had served in the zulu war of . he had been in the siege and defence of etshowe. this place was surrounded by the zulus, and another british force tried to get into signalling communication with it by means of the heliograph, which at that time was quite a new invention. i reminded my cook friend of this, and he told me this little yarn about it. he said: "i was walking out on the ridge there close to the camp with a corporal in my company when we noticed a light flickering on a hill in the distance. he had been through a course of signalling, and said it looked as if somebody were trying to flash a signal to us, so we got a bit of looking-glass and flashed it in their direction. "suddenly he said to me: "'write down what i tell you.' "i got out a piece of paper and a pencil, and he spelt out a message which was meant for colonel pearson, our commanding officer. it was to say that if we sent a signaller on to the church steeple in etshowe they could signal direct to him. "i took the message to the colonel, and soon after a sailor managed to get up somehow or other, and we very quickly had messages going and coming." sea scouting in the days of queen elizabeth, nearly four hundred years ago, the sailors of spain, of england, of holland, and of portugal were all making themselves famous for their daring voyages in small sailing ships across unknown oceans, by which they kept discovering new lands for their country in distant corners of the world. there was one small cabin-boy on a coasting brig in the english channel who used to long to become one of these discoverers but when he looked at the practical side of the question it seemed hopeless for a poor little chap like him ever to hope to rise in the world beyond his present hard life in a wretched little coaster, living on bad food and getting, as a rule, more kicks than halfpence--but it shows you how the poorest boy can get on if he only puts his back to it. * * * * * sir francis drake, young drake--for that was his name--did get on in spite of his difficulties; he worked hard at his duty until he became a captain of two small ships, one of seventy, the other of thirty tons, and with these he sailed to fight the spaniards, who were at that time our enemies, away across the ocean in central america. he not only fought them, but was successful in taking some of their ships and a great deal of valuable booty from their towns. on his return home he was promoted to command a large expedition of five ships, the biggest of which, however, was only tons, and the smallest was tons--no bigger than a fishing smack. with these he sailed down the west coast of africa, then across to brazil and down the south american coast till he rounded the end of it through the dangerous and difficult straits of magellan into the pacific. he coasted up the western side of america as far as california, and then struck across the ocean to india, and thence _via_ the cape of good hope to england; this voyage took him nearly three years to complete. his good ship, the _golden hind_, though much battered and wounded with war and weather, was received with great honour at deptford. the queen herself went on board, and while there she showed such pleasure at drake's good work that she knighted him, using his own well-worn sword to make him sir francis drake. soon after this king philip of spain began to prepare an enormous fleet, and though he told queen elizabeth that it was not intended to be used against england, sir francis drake, who was now in command of a small fleet of british ships, maintained that it could be for no other purpose. [illustration: drake's ship, the "golden hind."] and a secret letter was shortly afterwards intercepted which proved that his suspicions were right. drake went off with his fleet and sailed up and down the spanish coast destroying their ships and stores wherever he could find them, and thus he hindered their preparations for war. in this way he sank or burnt some , tons of shipping, which meant a great many ships in those days. he merely described it in his report as, "singeing the spanish king's beard." at the end of , the great spanish fleet--the armada--was ready, and sailed against england. but there were a fine lot of british admirals and men awaiting it, for besides lord charles howard of effingham, the lord high admiral, there were frobisher, and davis, walter raleigh, and francis drake. it is true they had only ships with which to oppose the of the spaniards, but they sallied out and tackled them at once before the spaniards were really ready for them, and drove them into dunkirk. here the spaniards felt secure and would not come out till one night the english sent fire ships in among them which forced them to put to sea. then ensued a tremendous sea fight, in which drake, in the _revenge_, took the lead. the battle lasted all day, with guns roaring and ships foundering or exploding. at length the spaniards drew off northward to the german ocean, the only line of escape open to them. round the north of scotland and ireland they went, damaged by shot and beset by a gale, so that in the end, out of the magnificent fleet of sail which had set out for the conquest of england, only got back, with only about out of the original , men. * * * * * nelson. two hundred years after drake came nelson. he was the son of a clergyman in norfolk, a poor, sickly little fellow, and was for a time in the merchant service. his first step to greatness was when the ship which he was in captured an enemy's ship, and the first lieutenant was ordered to take a boat and some men and go aboard the prize. but owing to the heavy sea which was running the officer gave up the attempt as too dangerous, whereupon nelson, like a good scout, stepped forward and offered to go. he succeeded, and thence was marked as a good officer. every boy knows how, after a splendid career of fighting for britain, he finally won the great sea battle of trafalgar against the french and spanish fleets, and fell mortally wounded in the hour of victory. but his work, and that of other great sea-captains who served with him, completed the supremacy of the british navy begun by drake and the sea-dogs of his time. the navies of our enemies were entirely swept from off the seas, and their merchant ships could only carry on their trade so long as their countries remained at peace with britain. and that supremacy has remained with us till to-day. in consequence of this we have been enabled to put a stop to the awful slave trade which used to go on on the coasts of africa; to discover new lands for our empire, and to bring civilisation to savages in the farthest corners of the world. and the enterprise of our merchant ships has made our trade successful all over the globe, and so increased the prosperity of our people both at home and in our oversea dominions. the sailor has a grand life of it. continually visiting strange and interesting lands, with a good ship manoeuvring through distant oceans, with plenty of contests with tides and winds. a free, open, and healthy life, which breeds cheery handiness and pluck such as make a sailor so deservedly loved by all. and all the time he is doing grand work for his country. * * * * * our lifeboatmen. we are hearing a great deal of the heroes of everyday life, but there are perhaps no greater heroes, no truer scouts than sailors of the kind that man our lifeboats all round the coasts of great britain. they have to be prepared to turn out at any minute, when the dangerous storm is at its worst, to face danger in order to save others. because they do it so often and so quietly we have come to look upon it almost as an everyday affair to be expected, but it is none the less splendid of them or worthy of our admiration. a large number of boy scouts have, by taking up "sea scouting" and by learning boat management and seamanship, been able to take their place in the service of their country as seamen on our battleships, and in the merchant service, and as lifeboatmen upon our coasts. * * * * * seamanship games. during the summer months scouts in many parts of the country practise sea scouting as well as camping on shore. this involves living on board ship and learning all the duties of sailors--going on watch, going aloft, managing boats, saving life at sea, and swimming and saving life from drowning--with plenty of interesting games and practices. * * * * * smugglers. one game which can be played either by night or day is that of "smugglers." a patrol of smugglers endeavour to land from the seaward in a boat to conceal their goods, which consist of nothing more valuable than "a brick to each man," in a place called the "smugglers' cave," and then to get away in their boat again. other scouts arc distributed as "preventive men" to watch the coast for a considerable distance with sentries. so soon as one of these preventive men sees a smuggler land he gives the alarm, and collects the rest to attack them; but the attack cannot be successful unless there are at least as many preventive men on the spot as smugglers, and if the smugglers succeed in depositing their goods in the smugglers' cave and then getting away again before they are attacked by an equal number of preventive men, they win the game. * * * * * treasure island. another exciting game which tests the scoutcraft of a patrol is that where they approach the shore in a boat and look out for marks which have been told to them, and, on finding these, they land, find a map hidden away, which gives further clues by means of landmarks, compass directions, tidemarks, and so on, to where the hidden treasure is to be found. only a certain time will be allowed for finding it. this game can be made a competition for one patrol against another, each patrol taking it in turn to carry out the same task. naturally, each patrol would be very careful to wipe out all footmarks and tracks. then there can be whale hunts, as given in the book _scouting for boys_, and also "shipwreck," when everybody on board ship will take their places and carry out orders for getting the women and children safely away, followed by the men of the ship. "castaways on a desert island" may also be practised, when they have to get ashore on rafts and otherwise, and rig up such shelters as they can out of the materials available, and light their fires and cook their food, and so on. the pursuit of slavers' dhows by pinnaces from men-of-war can be practised, and "cutting-out" expeditions by boats full of armed scouts taking a hostile ship or place in the night. "salvage" may also be practised by boats going out in parties, where they are to save some derelict ship in distress, and to tow her into safety. * * * * * water sports. water sports can also be indulged in, such as polo, jousting, pillow fighting, greasy pole, hurdle races, into the lifebuoy race, and other exciting incidents. but to take part in these practices and games it is necessary that a scout should be able to swim, and i hope that every scout will take the earliest opportunity of doing so. and not only should he learn swimming without delay, but also study the means he ought to take for saving a drowning man and for reviving him when he has got him ashore. no scout is too young for this. i saw a case in the paper recently which is a fine example to other boys, where frederick delvin, eleven years of age, rescued another boy from drowning in the surrey canal, near the old kent road bridge. a small boy named george spear was fishing in the canal when he fell into the water, and was on the point of drowning when delvin, who had learned to swim last summer, jumped into the water and brought him safely ashore, and thus saved his life. well, now, any scout could do that, if he knew how and had the pluck, and i should hope that every scout has that at least. * * * * * jack tars' presence of mind. a serious disaster was narrowly averted at dover in connection with a treat given to six hundred schoolgirls on the battleship _albion_. the children were being taken out to the battleship in boats in a rather heavy sea. a steam pinnace, towing two whaleboats, each containing about eighty girls, was rounding the prince of wales pier, when the government tug _adder_ unexpectedly came round from the opposite side of the pier, bearing right down on them. there was great excitement, as a disaster seemed certain; but the naval men in charge quickly cut the second boat adrift, and the tug passed between the two crowded boatloads. the boat drifted towards the admiralty pier until it was picked up and got safely in tow again. that is the kind of "presence of mind" which every scout should have. * * * * * how van tromp's broom was raised--and lowered. in "sea scouting," it will, of course, be necessary to know a lot of small as well as big things about our ships which the ordinary fellow does not know. here is one. a man-of-war on duty always flies a pennant at her masthead--that is, a very long, very thin flag, which makes the mast look like a whip with a lash on the end of it. here is the story of it. in the old days, years ago, britain and holland were both powerful nations at sea and rivals in commerce, but as we had command of the british channel we made all foreign ships salute our men-of-war when passing them. one day, may th, , a dutch fleet of forty-five ships; under their great admiral van tromp, came sailing up the channel, and passed a british fleet of twenty-three ships under admiral blake. seeing how strong he was, the dutch admiral declined to salute us. so our flagship fired a shot across his bows, as a signal to remind him of his duty; but van tromp promptly replied with a broadside into the stern of admiral blake's ship. "that's very rude of him to break my windows," remarked blake, and promptly ordered his small fleet to attack the dutch, although it was twice as strong. the battle began at four o'clock in the afternoon, and went on hammer and tongs till after dark. the firing then lulled, and the british fleet, having been badly mauled, spent the whole night repairing damages. by dawn, although tired, they were all ready for a further go at the enemy, but as daylight came on they found there was no enemy to go for; he had cleared away in the night to less dangerous quarters. but only for a time, in order to get more ships, and a few days later he reappeared with something like eighty vessels. this and a contrary wind proved too much for blake's small fleet, and though he made an obstinate fight of it, he was at last compelled to take refuge in the thames, pursued by the dutchmen. then it was that van tromp hoisted a broom at his masthead, as a sign that he had swept the british from off the seas. but he was a little bit "previous," as they say in america. the people in britain rose to the occasion, and, instead of being down-hearted, they at once started to build a stronger fleet, and trained men and boys--like sea scouts--to man it. so soon as the ships were fitted out blake put to sea with a fleet of sixty, and went to look for the dutchmen, and he soon found them. van tromp, with seventy men-of-war, was coming up the channel, guarding a large fleet of richly-laden merchant ships making for holland. the british, of course, went for this convoy, and it was a pretty tough fight, the dutch merchantmen crowding on all sail to escape to holland, while their men-of-war kept behind them, fighting stubbornly to hold off the pursuing british. it was a running fight, which was kept up for three days and nights, and at the end the british came home triumphant, having captured or sunk seventeen of the enemy's men-of-war and thirty of his merchant ships. van tromp had to take down his broom. * * * * * how the whip was hoisted. it was in june, , that the two fleets finally came together for the deciding bout. both countries had seen that a big naval fight must come sooner or later, and both had gone on building ships as hard as they could to meet the danger. when each fleet was about ninety ships strong, they met at sea. unfortunately admiral blake had been laid up in england with an old wound, while the dutch fleet was under three of their best admirals, tough and plucky old sea-dogs all of them--van tromp, de witt, and ruyter. for a whole day the two fleets were engaged, both sides hammering away stubbornly and well, but by nightfall neither had gained much. next day they went at it again, and if anything the advantage was beginning to rest with the dutch, when suddenly, in the afternoon, a fresh ship came banging its way through the rear of the dutch fleet. it was blake! his return seemed to put new life into the british. they went at it again with all their might. they boarded van tromp's ship; he blew her up and escaped to another; but in the end, with his fleet shattered and broken, he had to make his retreat under cover of night as best he could. the british thus remained masters of the channel, with eleven good dutch men-of-war as prizes and eight more of them sent to the bottom. then it was said that blake's pennant was the whip that had driven outsiders from off the seas. * * * * * the loss of the "c ." whenever a british submarine goes down there is a tale of gallantry to relieve the sorrow of it. "c ," on her way to join the fleet display in the thames, was run down by a steamer which came suddenly upon her in the night. a submarine, as you know, is a long, tube-like boat, shaped like a hollow cigar, with one trap-door on the top leading to a small look-out tower. she runs along with this tower above water until she gets near to an enemy's ship; then the trapdoor is closed, and she sinks herself down below water, and runs under the ship and fires a torpedo into her in passing. i was on board a submarine not long ago, and when i was down in her dark, narrow inside, surrounded with a tangle of pipes and engines of every kind, i could quite picture to myself what the inside of the whale's belly must have looked like to jonah. also i could picture the hopeless feeling of dismay which must come over a crew of thirteen men boxed up in this small vessel if an accident occurred to her. * * * * * a sailor hero. the crew of "c " were all below, asleep, when the crash came; and the boat rolled sideways, and then sank down under water almost immediately. on the turret were sub.-lieut. watkins and able-seaman stripes, who were navigating the vessel. lieut. brodie, the commander, was below at the time; but at the collision he at once realised the danger, and first shook up some of the sleeping men, and then sprang up the hatchway to see what was wrong. few were able to follow him before the vessel sank heavily down. the next minute the survivors found themselves in the water swimming for their lives. sub.-lieut. watkins, being fully clothed and in his big sea-boots, had great difficulty in keeping afloat, and was in immediate danger of drowning, when lieut. brodie came to his assistance and held him up until, fortunately, their plight was seen from neighbouring vessels, and they were picked up just in time--both being completely exhausted. but lieut. brodie never let go of his comrade in order to get a better chance of saving himself. he had the true spirit of a scout in him in being prepared to give up his own life in the attempt to save another. if ever you find yourself in a position of difficulty or danger, keep your head, think what is your duty, and do it: remember how it was done in the case of "c ." when sudden death and darkness were all around, the officer kept cool and full of courage. * * * * * fishermen heroes. a terrific gale sprang up one winter in the orkney islands, away to the north of scotland. three fishing smacks were out in it, and ran for shelter into a narrow channel between two of the islands. two of the smacks rode out the weather safely, but the third got carried on to a small rocky islet and was wrecked, though her crew managed to get ashore on to the rocks. then it was that five brave fishermen on the island of pharay, seeing their plight, put off in a rough, home-made boat to try to rescue them; but the wind and sea were so high, and a snowstorm was driving against them to such an extent, that they could not get along, and were beaten back, after two toughly fought attempts. but they would not be defeated, and at last, by sheer pluck and determination, these hardy fellows got their boat across the channel at the third attempt, and dragged the shipwrecked men one by one through the water into their boat; and eventually, after going through the greatest danger of being swamped, they got them all safely ashore on pharay. this was a true example of scouts being prepared to risk their lives to save fellow creatures. these five heroes arrived at balmoral while i was there, as the guest of king edward, by whom they were received. he had the story of their heroism read over, and he then congratulated them on their bravery, and himself hung the medal for saving life at sea on the breast of each and shook hands with him. that was his official reward to them, but privately also he gave each man a personal friendly reminder in the shape of a good pipe and some tobacco, which he chose himself for them. * * * * * a brave sea scout. the lads of the training ship _mercury_ were manning one of the boats to go ashore. there was a heavy wind blowing--it was still dark--when one of the boys, named newitt, fell into the water and was swept away by the tide. two of his messmates at once dived in to his rescue. one of these, yateman, was quickly picked up by the ship's boat in mistake for the drowning lad. but the other boy, driver, a patrol leader belonging to the th southampton (_mercury_) troop, succeeded in getting hold of newitt and swam towards the pier with him. but driver was hampered with the suit of oilskins which he was wearing, and in battling with tide and wind, he himself was nearly drowned, although he was a good swimmer. a boat which put out from the pier got to him just in time to save him, and he was pulled on board in an unconscious condition, from which he did not recover for nearly two hours. the poor fellow, newitt, had slipped from his grasp and was drowned. still, driver had done all that he possibly could. he had not thought of the danger to himself, but on the first alarm had, with the true spirit of the scout, at once sprung to the assistance of his comrade in distress, and for this he was awarded the bronze cross, the scouts' highest award for gallantry. * * * * * sea scouts. i began my scouting first of all as a sea scout, before i ever went into the army and before i ever saw the backwoods in canada or india. and i am very glad that i did, for as a sea scout, i learnt how to swim, and i should have cut a poor figure as a soldier, or as a hunter, or as a scout, if i had not been able to do that. but besides swimming, there are so many things that one learns while a sea scout which come in useful afterwards, whatever line of life you may take up. for instance, i learnt how to tie knots, and unless a fellow can do that he is a duffer; i learnt how to handle and manage a boat by myself, how to right her when upset, and how to get in and out of her when bathing. i learnt how to steer and manage a large sailing boat, taking my watch alone at night; how to read the stars and charts; and how to take the responsibility for navigating and not running her on to the rocks. as a sea scout you get mighty hungry, so in order to feed yourself when on the water you have to be able to catch fish and to clean them, and to cook them for yourself. all this means that you have to be what a sailor is generally known as, a "handyman." then the life is so jolly, free, and breezy; there is lots of hard work at times, and difficulties and dangers to overcome, but also lots of enjoyable sunny cruising into strange places with good comrades around you. fellows boxed up in a ship together naturally become the best of friends and comrades if they are naturally good chaps with good tempers; if they are not--well--then i would rather not be in that ship, thank you! sailors are always manly fellows, and know how to give and take, and they manage to keep their tempers when small things go wrong. * * * * * generals who were sailors. two of our greatest generals to-day began their careers as sailors. field-marshal sir evelyn wood won his victoria cross as a midshipman in the royal navy while serving in the crimea. field-marshal viscount french, late commander-in-chief of our forces in france and flanders, was a sailor before he joined the army, and so was sir hamilton goold-adams, who commanded the town guard so well in mafeking. i have always found that a boy scout who has been a sea scout as well as a backwoods scout makes much the best all-round scout in the end. so i can well advise scouts to have a taste of both. a patrol or troop can easily take up sea scouting for one season if they like, just as a change. but, of course, it means that each one of them must learn swimming first, if he is not already a swimmer, and must know his knots really well, for actual use, and not merely for passing test examinations. it is well worth the trouble, for sea scouting, with its adventures and its games, is full of enjoyment and fun. * * * * * when sea scouting helped me. when i was last in canada i had to do a lot of my travelling by canoe, because the forests there are almost impassable with their thick undergrowth and boggy soil. there are lakes and streams everywhere, so it is comparatively easy to go by water. but there are plenty of adventures to be met with by the way, in the shape of snags and rocks and rapids, and out on the lakes gales spring up, with a heavy sea, in a very short time. so a fellow has to know how to manage a boat and how to face risks if he is going to get on at all, and it is just as well that he should be able to swim, as otherwise he is not likely to arrive at the end of his trip in the way he had intended! [illustration: a sea scout] well, jim and ben and i were paddling in our birch bark canoe across a good-sized lake where there were a lot of small islands, when suddenly we scrunched on to a submerged rock, which brought us to a full stop and bulged in the bottom of our vessel, so that the water began to run in and flood the floor. so the canoe was quickly turned, and away we paddled as hard as we could for the nearest island, and just reached it in time to scramble ashore before our boat began to sink. we quickly pulled her up on the rocks, got our baggage out, and rolled her over, so that the water could run out and we could get at the hole to repair it. this was done in quite a neat way. ben and i scraped away with our knives some of the "gum" or natural pitch with which the seams of the canoe were caulked. jim meantime had made a little fire with driftwood. then ben took a bit of rag, which he had used as a bandage for a wounded hand, and stretched it over the hole in the boat, and fixed it there with little bits of "gum," which he melted down with a red-hot stick taken from the fire. in this way he made a watertight patch over the leak in a very few minutes, and we soon had the canoe afloat again. we loaded her up, and within ten minutes of the disaster we were on our way again as happily as ever, but we kept a sharper look-out than we had done before for snags and rocks just below the surface of the water. * * * * * the sea scouts in war. thanks to so large a number of scouts having taken up the training as sea scouts we were able to supply about useful and efficient fellows to act as coastguards directly the war broke out. this enabled a large number of the regular coastguards to be sent to man the fleet. since then, the admiralty have been so satisfied with the good work done by the sea scouts, who have been guarding our coasts from the extreme north of scotland down to the land's end in cornwall, that they have asked for more of them, and we now have about employed on this duty and as signallers on board mine-sweepers, coaling and supply ships. the sea scouts have won for themselves a very good name by being prepared before war broke out. how to become a backwoodsman any fellow who means to be a backwoodsman, whether it is for pleasure or for work, should first of all get some practice at it at home. for eight years of my life i hardly ever slept in a house and i thoroughly enjoyed it. but to enjoy it you must know how to make yourself comfortable in camp. * * * * * tents. the first thing to consider is what kind of substitute for a house you are going to have to protect you from bad weather. this depends a good deal on what kind of country you are in. in a forest you can, of course, get plenty of timber out of which to build huts, but it is not much use being able to build a log-hut and then to find yourself in the open desert of the sahara. the best all-round kind of camp-house is, of course, a tent. i had what is called a "cabul" tent--a small square erection, seven feet long by seven feet wide, which can be opened or closed at either end, and has a double roof. i lived in this through the winter in afghanistan, through snow and blizzard, in the greatest comfort. at one end i built a brick fireplace and chimney; and i built a low wall, two feet high, round the outside; this kept out all draughts and prevented snow from melting into the tent. and i lived there as cosily and comfortably as in a house. in that same tent i afterwards lived in the blazing heat of the plains of india. instead of the fireplace at the end to keep it hot, i had a great mat of khuskhu's fibre stretched on a frame and kept always wet to keep it cool; the hot wind blowing through this was at once cooled, and kept the tent delightfully cold and fresh inside, and the double roof prevented the sun from baking it. and i had a punkah, or swinging fan, slung from the ridge-pole, and worked by a native from outside. it was a sturdy little tent, too, and no gale could ever manage to blow it down. so you see it did equally well for every kind of climate and weather. another form of tent which i used in mafeking and south africa, and still use for sleeping out in, in england, is one which you would hardly call a tent. it is really a slungcot, with a movable canvas roof to it. it is called the "ashanti hammock." [illustration: a bivouac shelter.] it packs up quite small, and is put up in a few minutes. requires no pegs. keeps you off the wet ground. and when the gale comes and all the tents in camp blow down, you lie there swinging gently in the breeze, the envy of all the rest. it also forms an excellent stretcher if you are ill and have to be carried; and if you die it also makes a very satisfactory coffin, being laced over you as you lie in it. very complete, isn't it? [illustration: the ashanti hammock.] there are tents of every sort and kind to be got, from a single-man tent up to a hospital tent for thirty beds. and there are also many kinds of camps there is a "standing" camp, where you remain in the same spot for weeks at a time, or a "tramping" camp, where you move on every day to a new place, and "boating" camp, where also you move but can carry your tent in your boat. but it is rather necessary to know which kind of camp you are making before you can tell which kind of tent you need. as i have said in _scouting for boys_: "for a standing camp 'bell' tents are useful, or huts can be made. bell tents can be hired in almost any town for a few shillings per week, or you can buy a second-hand one in good condition for about pounds. "you could probably let it out on hire to other patrols when not using it yourself, and so get back your money on it. a bell tent, just holds a patrol nicely. "scouts' 'patrol' tents also do very well for camp, but you need a second set of staves or poles for rigging them if you want to leave the camp standing while you are out scouting. "you can make your own tents during the winter months--and this, perhaps; is the best way of all, as it comes cheapest in the end. and if, while you are about it, you make one or two extra ones, you may be able to sell them at a good profit." a "lean-to" tent is used by many backwoodsmen. it can be made with the scouts' patrol tent on the same principle as the lean-to shelter described in _scouting for boys_. if pitched with its back to the wind, with a good fire in front, it can be made a most luxurious bedroom on cold night. the roof catches all the warmth and glow of the fire, and you lie there warm in your blankets, yet breathing the fresh air of the forest or veldt and gazing at the stars. there is nothing better on earth. * * * * * the "tramp" tent. we will begin with the simplest and cheapest. here is a one-man "tramp" tent, which is used by a certain class of gipsy in scotland. [illustration: construction of tramp-tent.] you want six hazel sticks, all exactly alike, about ft. in. long, just sufficiently pliant to bend over near the top, but not so thin as to be wobbly. each should be sharpened at the butt, and marked with a nick ten inches from the point to show how far to drive it into the ground. the points should be slightly charred in the fire to harden them. then you want a sheet of light canvas, or waterproofed linen, to form your tent, six feet square, with eyelets or loops along the sides. [illustration: one-man tramp-tent complete.] plant your sticks firmly in the ground, in two rows, two feet apart from each other. bend the tops inwards to form an archway. over these arches spread your canvas to form a kind of tunnel tent, and peg down the loops to the ground. * * * * * the "bivouac" tent. this is, perhaps, an equally simple tent. the roof, or "fly," can be ft. by ft. two poles, ft. in., should be planted firmly-at least six inches in the ground. a stout ridge-rope should be stretched tightly between them, and tied at the top of each, and then securely fixed to a tent peg well driven into the ground in front of each end of the tent. [illustration: "bivouac" tent.] the edges of the "fly" all round should have large metal eyelets, by which the sides of the tent can be pegged to the ground, and flaps can be laced on at the ends to give protection against wind and rain, etc. instead of using pegs at the sides, it is equally good to lace the edge along a stout log, or to a rope stretched tight, or a pole, and well anchored in the ground. then you have the "patrol" tent of canvas, as described in _scouting for boys_, which is carried in pieces, which lace together, and, with the staves of the patrol as supports, form the tent for six or eight boys. these are very easy to make in a couple of evenings. * * * * * the "cabul" tent. the "cabul" tent, mentioned previously, was the kind that we used in the war in afghanistan. cabul is the chief town of that country. these tents are equally comfortable in snow and rain, or in the baking heat of the plains of india. [illustration: cabul tent complete] it has an extra roof to keep out the sun or heavy rain. a tent like this, with two roofs, is called a "double-fly" tent. it is, of course, heavier and more expensive than a "single-fly," but it is also more comfortable. * * * * * "cabul" tent poles. the horizontal "ridge-pole," ft. in. long, has an iron eyelet at each end the outer fly rests on this. the loops of the inner fly also hang from it to hold up the inner roof. [illustration: inner "fly" of "cabul" tent] [illustration: outer "fly" of "cabul" tent] [illustration: cabul tent-poles.] the upright poles are six feet high; each of these is fitted with an iron cap and spike at the top to fit the eyelets of the ridge-pole. each is also fitted with a circular wooden disc at one foot from the top; this supports the inner fly, the upper part of each pole having been passed through the hole at either end of the inner fly-roof. * * * * * tent making. before starting to make your tent, you should, in the first place, have a good look at ready-made tents, and see exactly how they are made-especially at the edges. [illustration: trees instead of tent poles.] you should always make a model of the tent you propose to construct, first with paper, to scale, so as to get the proper dimensions, and then with linen, with string and poles complete, to see how to cut it out in the right sizes. afterwards, you can proceed to make the real, article. this, again, is best done by cutting it out in newspapers pasted together and spread out on the floor. these paper cuttings then serve as "patterns," on which you can cut your canvas without wasting any of it. * * * * * the material. the kind of stuff to use for tent making depends a good deal on how much you can afford for material, and what work you want the tent for. thus, if you want a very light tent for carrying on your back or bicycle, and have plenty of money, a silk tent at s. a yard is very nice; but probably you would like one of cheaper material, and fairly light and strong. lawn, made of egyptian cotton, calico sheeting, or brown calico makes a very satisfactory tent at an outlay of s. or so for the whole thing complete. * * * * * sewing. after having purchased your stuff, and cut it out according to the paper pattern, pin it, or tack it, all together, and see how it fits. then stitch the seams together, using cotton, not thick thread. [illustration: steep sides too wide.] seams should be double-stitched-that is, the edges of the two pieces of canvas should overlap, and each be stitched to the other piece. at all points where a strain is likely to come on the canvas-namely, at the corners and at places where eyelets for ropes have to come, it is best to have a strengthening patch of canvas sewn over the other canvas. then wide, stout tape should be sewn along the edge of the canvas wherever there is to be any strain on it, such as eyelet holes for ropes, or hooks and eyes, or strings for closing the ends of the tent, etc. often in woods you can find two trees standing, say, eight feet apart. if you have a six-foot tent, you can use these for tent poles by tying ("lashing" is the word used by sailors and scouts) each end of the ridge of the tent to a tree. this can be more easily done if your ridge is strengthened with a tape sewn inside it, and made into a loop at each end. it is always as well to make these loops on your tents, as they come in useful in other ways. a strip of canvas is often stitched on to the foot of the tent, as shown in the picture, either to hold it down with pegs or stones, or to be turned inwards underneath your ground sheet to prevent draughts coming in under the wall. a tent should not be made wider than its height, because the roof will not be steep enough to run the rain off quickly, and so will let it through more easily. * * * * * tent poles. the poles should not be made of any weak wood liable to split or break, but of tough elm, hickory, ash, or bamboo. for small tents of about five feet high they need be only one to one-and-a-half inches thick. for heavy tents of over ten feet long and over six feet high, they have to be at least two inches thick. bamboos are generally tougher than wood, so need not be quite so stout. * * * * * tent pegs. tent pegs may be easily made of wood, but should be of a tough kind that does not split easily. they are generally made in the shape shown below, about ten inches long. you can also get them of iron, but these, though they do not break, do not hold quite so well in the ground, and are heavy to carry. aluminium ones are lighter, expensive, and inclined to bend. then you can use stones or logs instead of pegs, and what i like best of all is half a dozen canvas bags filled with earth or stones and buried in the ground as anchors. these can be used equally well in sandy, muddy, or stony ground, where ordinary pegs would never hold. these bags are easily made during your winter evenings, and can be used for carrying your kit from camp to camp. they also make useful buckets and washing basins. they should be made of stout duck or canvas. the top edge of this canvas should be folded over and stitched in order to give strength. the handles are made of half-inch rope, passed through brass eyelets, let into the canvas below the stitching? the ends of the rope being knotted inside. in cutting out you must allow an extra inch for turning in at the edges and joining to the other pieces. supposing that you have not the time or means for getting tents and that you are going into camp where there are plenty of trees, and you have got the right to use them, then some of the following tips may be of use to you. [illustration: correct tent pegs.] [illustration: a handy bag.] a bivouac shelter, as described in _scouting for boys_, is the simplest and best form of hut, and is easily made in an hour. two upright stakes are driven firmly into the ground, with a ridge pole placed in position along the tops. against this a number of poles should be made to lean from the windward aide, with cross-bars to support the branches, reeds, sods, or twigs, or whatever is to form your roofing material. for a single man this shelter can be made quite small, _i.e._, about ft. high in front, and ft. wide and ft. long. * * * * * framework. you build your fire about ft. in front of this, and lie in it alongside your fire. if the "shack" is for more than one man, you build it ft. or ft. high in front, and ft. deep, so that several fellows can lie alongside each other, feet to the fire. when you start to thatch your framework, begin at the bottom and lay your roofing material on in layers, one above the other in the way that slates are put on a roof. in this way you may make it watertight. * * * * * thatching. for thatching you can use thick spruce branches, or grass, reeds, sods, slabs of wood or bark (called "shingles"), or small twigs of heather closely woven in. it is generally advisable to lay a few branches and stout poles over the thatch when finished in order to keep it on if a gale springs up. [illustration: framework.] if you want to build a complete hut, you can make a lean-to from each side on the same ridge-pole; but the single lean-to, with its fire in front of it, is quite good enough for most people. another way to build a shelter hut is to lean a ridge-pole or backbone from the ground into the fork of a small tree about ft. above the ground, the butt of the pole being about ft. to windward of the tree. then put up a few side poles leaning against this, and roof over in the same way as for a lean-to. build your fire just in front of this, and you will have a very safe and cosy little house. [illustration: thatching.] in country where there are no trees to make poles with, like parts of south africa, where there is only a lot of small thorn bush and long grass, you can make "scherms," or loose thorn bushes piled in a heap and made into a small horse-shoe, arched over, back to wind, and covered or roughly thatched with grass. these, with a fire in front, make very good shelter against cold wind or against sun, and, if covered with a canvas waggon-sail or tarpaulin, make a good enough protection against rain and against very hot sun. a "scherm" can be made with heather or gorse--only look out for its catching fire! [illustration: a shelter hut.] remember that to make a tent or hut cool in hot sun put on more roof--put blankets over the top of your tent, and bank up the sides near the ground. but if you want to make your tent or hut warm, take care to thicken the walls at the foot to prevent draughts coming in along the floor. also never forget that your floor is on raised ground, not in a hollow that will become a pool in wet weather. * * * * * camp furniture. having made your tent or hut, you will find it a good comfort in a standing camp to have a table. this you can well make in winter evenings before the camping season, and while you are at it making one for yourself; you may just as well make two or three more to sell to other people, and so add money to your camping fund. the table should be separate from its legs, so that it can be packed easily in the cart. if stakes can be got at camp, you would drive four of these into the ground with a "maul" (big mallet), making them exactly the same height, and lay your table top on these. to make your table top, bits of board or old packing cases can be planed smooth, and trimmed, and screwed together by cross-battens underneath to form a tabletop of the size required; in. by in. is a useful and portable size. [illustration: table when finished.] a pair of folding trestle legs can then be made for the table. these are two frames, one just narrow enough to go inside the other, but both of the same length. a camp stool can be made in much the same way, with a strip of canvas or carpet or several strings of webbing nailed across, from the top of one trestle to the other, the trestles, of course, being quite small. [illustration: under side of table top.] candlesticks, forks, tongs, and other small articles of camp furniture are shown in _scouting for boys_, and can easily be made in the winter evenings. if neatly done they also command a good sale at bazaars. camp beds are also described in _scouting for boys_, and straw mats for making these may very well be woven in winter evenings, and, with plenty of time for making them, can be really well made. when finished, they can be rolled up and packed away until required for camp. the fellow who owns one of these in camp can enjoy life under canvas about four times as much as the fellow who tries to make himself comfortable on a hard, stony bit of ground. i think you never find out how full of corners you are till you try sleeping on a hard bit of ground. of course? every scout knows that the worst corner in him is his hip-bone, and if you have got to sleep on hard ground the secret of comfort is to scoop out a little hole, about the size of a tea-cup, where your hip-bone will rest. it makes all the difference to your comfort at night. your night's rest is an important thing a fellow who does not get a good sleep at night soon knocks up, and cannot get through a day's work like the one who sleeps in comfort. [illustration: trestle legs.] so my advice is, make a good thick straw-mattress for yourself during the winter ready for camp. another good way of giving yourself a comfortable bed is to make a big bag of canvas or stout linen; ft. long and ft. wide. this will do to roll up your kit in for travelling; and when you are in camp you can stuff it with straw, or leaves, or bracken, etc., and use it as a nice soft mattress. a pillow is also a useful thing for giving you comfort in camp. for this you only want a strong pillow-case (which also you can make for yourself in the winter). this will serve as your clothes-bag by day and your pillow by night, your clothes, if neatly rolled and packed in it, serving as the stuffing. i have often used my boots as a pillow, rolled up in a coat so that they don't slip apart, and for a long time i used a zulu pillow, which is a little wooden stand on which you rest your neck; it sounds uncomfortable, but it is not so--when you're used to it! a scout has to be prepared to turn out at any moment in the night. he ought, therefore, to have his important clothes laid handy, so that he can get into them at once in the dark. [illustration: a zulu pillow.] on service, of course, a scout sleeps with shoes on, so that he can turn out at any moment. i remember on one occasion some of my men gave up obeying this rule, and thought it more comfortable to take their boots off. so one night i had the alarm given that the enemy were near, and ordered the men to double out at once to a spot a short distance outside the camp. the ground was covered with prickly grass and camel-thorn. how those fellows hopped and skipped to get to the place. but they took care not to go to bed barefooted again. * * * * * hut building. in places where you can get the use of a wood for your camp, it saves the cost of a tent if you can make yourself a hut. the important point in making a hut is to thatch it so closely and well with heather, straw, or twigs of fir, etc., that it is watertight. the double lean-to, already described, makes the simplest form of hut--and if you like to make it more roomy, you can dig out the floor a couple of feet. but this is always a messy proceeding, and unhealthy, as upturned earth is very liable to give fever. in addition to the articles of camp equipment which are mentioned in _scouting for boys_ as being easily made by the scout himself, there are several others which can be made during the long winter evenings, and these will be of great use to you when you go into camp in the summer, or they can be sold to other fellows wanting such things. the following is taken, from mr. h. kephart's _book of camping:_ * * * * * horn drinking cups. "get a cow's horn from a friendly butcher, a little over a foot long. measure with a stick how far up it is hollow. then, saw off the tip just below where it becomes solid, except a strip of the solid part, which should be left attached to the hollow part, about an inch wide and five inches long, quarter of an inch thick; this strip will form the handle of the cup." [illustration: a horn drinking cup] * * * * * the axe. of course a backwoodsman has to be pretty useful with his axe; and to become a good axeman a fellow must know, firstly, how the thing ought to be done, and, secondly, he must then have lots of practice in doing it before he can be considered any good. bad workmen complain of their tools, but before starting to work be sure that your tool is a good one. your axe should be a "felling" axe, of which the head will weigh nearly three pounds. see that the handle or "helve" is perfectly straight and true in line with the head and the edge. to do this look along the helve with the edge of the head turned upwards. if the edge is not true to the bevel, your cuts will go all astray. then see that your axe is sharp--really sharp, not merely with a good edge on it. a slightly blunt axe is no more good for cutting down a tree than a very blunt knife is for cutting a pencil. you should know how to sharpen it on a grindstone, learn this now, while you are in civilisation, where grindstones can be found and there are men to show you. when out in camp in india, for "pig sticking" (that is hunting wild boar with spears) we found how very necessary it was to keep our spears as sharp as a razor, and every time we killed a boar we would sharpen up our spear-heads again ready for the next fight. we could not carry grindstones about with us, but we carried a small fine file, with which we were able to touch up the edge; and that is what many an old backwoodsman does for his axe, he carries a small file with him. there is a saying with these men that "you may lend your last dollar to a friend, but never lend him your axe--unless you know that he is a good axeman and will not blunt it." the tenderfoot will go banging about with an axe, chopping at roots and branches on the ground, and blunting the axe at every stroke on earth and stones; and when his arms tire, if he has not meanwhile chopped his own foot, he will throw the axe down, leaving it lying all anyhow on the ground, probably where it will catch and cut the toe of someone moving about after dark. when you want to leave your axe, strike straight down with it into a tree stump, and leave it sticking there till required again, * * * * * using the axe. in using an axe, the tenderfoot generally tries to cover his bad aim by the extra strength of his blows. if an old hand is looking on he is smiling to himself and thinking how blown and what a backache he got himself the first time that he did it. don't try to put force into the blow; merely be careful about aiming it so that it falls exactly where you want it, the swing and weight of the axe itself do the rest. a good axeman uses his axe equally well left-handed or right. it is all a matter of practice, and most valuable. * * * * * felling a tree. the way to cut down a tree is to cut first a big chunk out of the side to which you want the tree to fall, and then to cut into the opposite side to fell it. begin your notch , or the "kerf," as it is called, by chopping two marks, the upper one, a, at a distance above the other, b, equal to half the thickness of the tree. [illustration: the kerf.] then cut alternately, first a horizontal cut at b, then a sideways, downward cut at a, and jerk out the chunk between the two; go on doing this till you get to the centre of the tree. the reason for making a and b so far apart is that if you begin with too narrow a kerf your axe gets wedged in the cut more easily. * * * * * cutting the kerf. when you have cut your kerf half through the tree, you then fell the tree by cutting in on the opposite side, only about three inches above the level of b, * * * * * things to look out for. before starting to fell your tree, first clear away all small branches and bushes which might interfere with the swing of your axe, and therefore spoil your aim. also clear away any brambles or undergrowth that might trip you at the critical moment. cut out chunks when you are at it, not a lot of little chips, which are signs to anyone coming there later that a tenderfoot has been at work. it is all a matter of aiming your stroke well. aim your kerf so that the tree will fall clear of other trees, and not get hung up in their branches. [illustration: the tree ready to fall] then, when your tree falls, look out for the butt. this often jumps back from the stump; never stand directly behind it; many a tenderfoot has been killed that way. when the stem cracks and the tree begins to topple over, move forward in the direction of the fall, and, at the same time outwards, away from the butt. * * * * * fire-lighting. as a backwoodsman you must, of course, be able to cook your own food--you can't lug your mother about with you to do it! but you cannot cook food straight off without ever having learnt how; and so i advise every scout to set to work and learn this during the winter months, before the camping season comes on. you can do a good deal by helping in the kitchen, and seeing how the food is got ready. also get a baker to show you how to mix dough and to bake bread. but it is no use merely to be _shown_ how it should be done; the thing is to do it yourself. you will make a few mistakes at first. your dough will come out like custard, and your porridge will be burnt, and milk smoked, but after one or two trials you will soon find yourself able to cook quite well. the first thing that is necessary for cooking, even if it is only to boil a billy of tea, is to have a fire, and tenderfoot makes a pretty hash of lighting a fire until he knows how. [illustration: fire ready for lighting.] begin in _a_ small way by putting first some dry "kindling" or small splinters and shavings, dry grass, or a _little_ paper, anything that will easily take fire, and over that stack a lot of small dry sticks, standing on end and leaning together, or leaning against a log on the _windward_ side of it. remember, dry _sticks_ are very different from _sticks_ when it comes to lighting a fire. dry sticks are seldom found on the ground, they are generally best got from a tree. find a tree with a dead branch or two, break these off, and you will have dry sticks. for "kindling," a number of sticks partly split or splintered with your knife are useful. do you know what "punk" is? well, "punk," or "tinder," is what _a_ good many backwoodsmen carry about with them for lighting their fires. it can be a small bit of cotton waste soaked in petrol or spirits, or very dry, baked fungus, or bark fibre, or anything that will catch fire from the slightest spark. then, if you have no matches, you can strike a spark with a flint and steel (the back of your knife on a stone will do it), and so set light to your punk. or you can do it with a magnifying glass if there is a good sun shining, by making the sunlight pass through the glass on to a small amount of punk, and in a few seconds it will set it smouldering; and you must then gently blow it up into a glow, and finally into a flame, with which you can light the "kindling." indians and savages, who have neither matches nor burning-glasses, get fire by rubbing wood together. the easiest way is by putting a slat of dry wood on the ground and boring a hole through it with a stick of dry wood, twirling the stick by means of a bow string. the friction of the two woods causes the kind of sawdust which comes from the hole to get red-hot, and if a little punk is then placed on it and blown into, it brings a flame. so soon as you have got your small kindling fire alight, add bigger dry sticks, upright and leaning together, until you can get a really strong fire going, when logs can be added. but for a cooking fire, use plenty of sticks at first, as they make the hot ashes and embers which are most necessary for cooking. * * * * * tips for the camping season. if you make your own sleeping bag out of canvas or sacking, remember two points: first, to have its flaps about a yard longer than yourself, so that you can get well into it in case of rain, and secondly: that to keep warm and dry you want more thickness underneath than above you. [illustration: a comfortable sleeping bag.] the best way is to have a double sheet under you, or, in other words, make your sleeping bag a double one; you can then fill the lower part with straw, and sleep yourself in the upper compartment. the object of having long flaps is seen in the illustration. the lower one can be rolled with your spare clothes inside it to form your pillow, while the upper one can be supported by a crossbar to form a little roof over your head. in a sleeping bag of this kind, if waterproof, you can sleep out without a tent at all. * * * * * how to make a camp bed. a very simple and comfortable form of camp bed-and one which you can easily rig up and use in your home, or at an inn, if a bedstead is not available-is this: make a "hasty stretcher" with two staves and a sack, and lay the ends of the staves on a couple of logs, stones, or boxes. [illustration: ready for use.] keep the staves apart by crossbars, and you have a most comfortable bed. but don't forget to put plenty of blankets, and some thick paper, if you are short of blankets underneath you. this bed is the best possible one to use when you have to camp on damp ground. * * * * * how a tenderfoot sits down. in camp you can generally tell a tenderfoot from an old scout from the way in which he sits down. [illustration: the wrong way.] a tenderfoot sits right down on the ground, but the old hand, knowing that this is very likely to give you chill and bring on fever, rheumatism, or other ailments, either squats on his heel, or on both heels--which comes all the more easy if you put a stone under each heel as a support, or if you have your back against a tree. [illustration: the right way.] when an old scout sits on the ground, he always takes care either to sit on his hat, or on a bundle of dry heather, or something that will keep him off the actual ground. [illustration: how an old hand sits down.] two ex-boy scouts, now officers in the army, sent me a contribution to our funds lately, as a thanks offering for all the campaigning dodges which they had learnt as scouts and which had been most helpful to them on active service. so practise all you can of these tips which i have given: you never know when they may not come in useful to you. training and tracking zulu training. the native boys of the zulu and swazi tribes learn to be scouts before they are allowed to be considered men, and they do it in this way: when a boy is about fifteen or sixteen, he is taken by the men of his village, stripped of all clothes, and painted white from head to foot, and he is given a shield and one assegai or small spear, and he is turned out of the village and told that he will be killed if anyone catches him while he is still painted white. so the boy has to go off into the jungle and mountains and hide himself from other men until the white paint wears off, and this generally takes about a month; so that all this time he has to look after himself and stalk game with his one assegai, and kill it and cut it up; he has to light his fire by means of rubbing sticks together in order to cook his meat; he has to make the skin of the animal into a covering for himself; and he has to know what kinds of wild roots, berries, and leaves are good for food as vegetables. if he is not able to do these things he dies of starvation, or is killed by wild animals. if he succeeds in keeping himself alive, and is able to find his way back to his village, he returns when the white paint has worn off, and is then received with great rejoicings by his friends and relatives, and is allowed to become a soldier of the tribe, since he has shown that he is able to look after himself. * * * * * tracking by touch. general dodge, of the american army, describes how he once had to pursue a party of red indians who had been murdering some people. the murderers had nearly a week's start, and had gone away on horseback. rut general dodge got a splendid tracking-scout named espinosa to help him. the indians were all riding unshod horses except one, and after espinosa had been tracking them for many miles he suddenly got off his horse and pulled four horseshoes out of a hidden crevice in the rocks. the indian had evidently pulled them off so that they should not leave a track. for six days they pursued the band, and for a great part of the time there was no sign visible to an ordinary eye, and after going for miles they eventually overtook and captured the whole party. but it was all entirely due to espinosa's good tracking. on another occasion some american troops were following up a number of indians, who had been raiding and murdering whites, and they had some other red indian scouts to assist them in tracking. in order to make a successful attack, they marched by night, and the trackers found the way in the darkness by feeling the tracks of the enemy with their hands, and they went at a fairly good pace for many miles, merely touching the track with their fingers; but suddenly they halted and reported that the track they had been following had been crossed by a fresh track, and on the commanding officer going up, he found the indians still holding the track with their hands, so that there should be no mistake. a light was brought, and it was found that the new track was that of a bear which had walked across the trail of the enemy! so the march continued without further incident, and the enemy were surprised, and caught in the early hours of the morning. i myself led a column through an intricate part of the matopo mountains in rhodesia by night to attack the enemy's stronghold, which i had reconnoitred the previous day. i found the way by feeling my own tracks, sometimes with my hands and sometimes through the soles of my shoes, which had worn very thin; and i never had any difficulty in finding the line. tracking, or following up tracks, is called by different names in different countries. thus, in south africa you would talk only of "spooring," that is, following up the "spoor"; in india it would be following the "pugs," or "pugging"; in america it is "trailing." * * * * * jackal catching. in india i have seen a certain tribe of gipsies who eat jackals. now, a jackal is one of the most suspicious animals that lives, and is very difficult to catch in a trap, but these gipsies catch them by calling them in this way: several men with dogs hide themselves in the grass and bushes round a small field. in the middle of this open place one gipsy imitates the call of the jackals calling to each other; he gets louder and louder till they seem to come together; then they begin to growl and finally tackle each other with violent snapping, snarling, and yelling, and at the same time he shakes a bundle of dried leaves, which sounds like the animals dashing about among grass and reeds. then he flings himself down on the ground, and throws up dust in the air, so that he is completely hidden in it, still growling and fighting. if any jackal is within sound of this, he comes tearing out of the jungle, and dashes into the dust to join in the fight. when he finds a man there, he comes out again in a hurry, but meantime the dogs have been loosed from all sides, and they quickly catch him and kill him. mr. william long, in his very interesting book called _beasts of the field_, describes how he once called a moose. the moose is a very huge kind of stag, with an ugly, bulging kind of nose. he lives in the forests of north america and canada, and is very hard to get near; and is pretty dangerous when he is angry. mr. long was in a canoe fishing when he heard a moose bull calling in the forest--so just for fun he went ashore and cut a strip of bark off a birch tree and rolled it up so as to make a kind of megaphone, with this he proceeded to imitate the roaring grunt of the bull moose. the effect was tremendous; the old moose came tearing down, and even came into the water and tried to get at him--and it was only by hard paddling that in the end he got away. conclusion well, good-bye, my reader. i hope you will have got half the enjoyment out of reading these yarns that i have had in spinning them to you. will you try to remember some of the ideas which they bring to your mind-most especially those ten "scout laws" with which i began the book. i repeat them as a reminder for you. learn them by heart-each one to a finger. the scout law. . a scout's honour is to be trusted. . a scout is loyal. . a scout is useful to others. . a scout is a friend to all. . a scout is courteous. . a scout is a friend to animals . a scout obeys orders. . a scout smiles and whistles when in trouble. . a scout is thrifty. . a scout is clean in thought, word, and deed. will you try to remember these and carry them out in your daily life? by doing so you will be a true young knight of the empire. index a algeria, a trip to-- algiers, interesting things in arab market, an arab politeness arab's candles boar-hunting camping among the mountains of the desert carthage-ancient and modern cold winds constantine, celebrated french regiment at good turn to a donkey, a historical memories of the place history of ancient roman occupation hot springs of hammam mousketine, the mountain of salt in, a mountain range between algeria and the sahara spahis, the truffle-hunting tunis and its "souks" axe, take care of your b belgian boy scouts c camp bed, to make a camping season tips cheerfulness-- ancient exhortation to british army's example at the front "don't stand with your back to the sun" earl roberts, example of under difficulties whistling good, but not if it causes annoyance chilian boy scouts cleanliness-- bodily consumption, wage war against by drinking against the law of in thought, word, and deed manliness demands smoking as a boy offends spitting offends the law of d danish boy scouts dutch boy scouts f fire-lighting friendliness-- arab hospitality buttonhole badge worn by all scouts a token of chilian scouts help british visitors shown to all "swastika" an emblem know in all lands treating natives for minor ill h honour-- examples of the sense of your word is your bond horn drinking cups k kindness to animals-- bird migration bird-nesting, humanely good and brave men show instances of lord nelson on a bull-fight nesting-box for birds, to make a studying wild beasts l loyalty-- balaclava charge an instance of conquests achieved through loyalty to leaders instance of, at the front to king and country to parents and friends m malta-- home of scouts, the knights of st. john of jerusalem in. the. maltese placed themselves under great britain's protectorate maltese cross and its meaning, the maltese boy scouts n naples-- scouts in vesuvius overshadows neapolitan boy scouts norway, camping in-- automatic toasting-fork, an bivouac hut, easily-made boat voyage, a camp bedroom, a camp fire and kitchen cleaning and cooking your fish driving fishermen's knots fly-fishing norwegian fences norwegians are kind to animals picturesque experiences repairing a rod rowing boats stalking trout-fishing norwegian boy scouts o obedience-- british discipline, examples of silence as discipline to parents and scoutmasters orient line steamship, our life on an p politeness-- ancient knights' oath of chivalry, the courtesy to ail, especially the old and ailing scouts of the desert show courtesy true gentleman, the test of a pompeii, history of ancient r roberts, k.g., v.c., field-marshal earl, lessons from the life of s sea scouting-- brave boy sea scout, a chief scout tells when it helped him drake, career of sir francis dutch and english admirals of years ago fishermen heroes generals who were sailors lifeboatmen nelson, career of lord sailor heroes seamanship, games to teach, use of, in war, usefulness of, at all times, sicily-- carts in, history of, taormina, whispering caves in, sitting, the art of, strathcona, lord, lessons from the life of, swedish boy scouts, t tents, how to build-- ashanti shelter, the, bivouac shelter, a, bivouac tent, a, cabul tent, camp furniture for, making of, and materials to use, one-man tramp tent, the, shelter hut, a, tramp tent, the, thrift-- examples of men who became great through, john pound's example of, manliness of, two rules for earning a fortune, training and tracking-- jackal-catching, moose-hunting, red indians track by touch, zulu-training, tree-felling, the art of, u usefulness-- badges to be won by, good turns, helpfulness to others, helping the police, instances of, peace scout in labrador, a, tracking exercise, scanned by sean pobuda (jpobuda@adelphia.net) the boy scouts on a submarine by captain john blaine chapter i the unexpected visitor a great barking of dogs broke the silence of the sleepy summer afternoon. elinor pomeroy laid down her knitting and slowly walked around the house. the barking of the three big dogs had been on a joyous tone. a young man was racing up the long front drive, the dogs leaping and bounding around him. "three rousing cheers, old dear," he cried. "three cheers! i have won out!" "do you really mean it, lester?" she cried. "do you really mean that your invention is a success?" "it certainly is, elinor," he answered, a certain gravity coming into his face and manner. "i know now that it is all right. we have even tried it out, and i am sure of it." elinor took her excited brother by the arm and led him to the wide, swinging hammock. "begin at the beginning," she ordered gently. "i want to hear the whole thing." "well, then," he commenced obediently, "this morning, as soon as i got to the plant, i asked for a meeting with the bureau of management. well, i went in and told them what i had done; how i happened on a partial combination when i was analyzing something for the office. i told them that i had worked it out further and further, and that finally i found what i was hunting for--a gas that was powerful enough to affect a large number of men and put them out temporarily, without injuring them after the effects wore off. "well, they listened, and when i told them my idea was to use it along the battle front instead of the ghastly deadly gases used by the germans, they commenced to sit up and take notice. you see, sis, my invention is far reaching than anything yet known. it puts out thousands of men with the contents of one grenade, and sinks them into such a deep sleep that they are absolutely helpless for hours. during this time, our men can occupy their positions, and send hundreds of trucks to the rear loaded with sleeping prisoners. when they come to, they are all right. "they listened, all right, and then they commenced to ask questions. i offered to try it out right there, but they didn't seem to want to. then mr. leffingwell spoke up. you know what a good sport he is. he said, 'well, fellows, there may be a lot to this. i have a couple of hundred cows out marcellus way, and i'm going to sacrifice them to my country. let's take the car, and try this thing out if this young man has enough on hand for a man-sized bomb.' "some of the men said he was a fool to risk that herd. my own opinion was that he thought the stuff wouldn't work at all in the open. anyway, we got into the cars, and went out to the dandiest farm you ever saw. "we drove the cows all into one end of a big lot because there was no way to send the grenade with sufficient force to spread the gas; but i went as close as i dared, and threw with all my might. it struck a stone and broke and right quick a couple of cows close to the grenade sort of crumpled up and laid down, and some more, and then one on the outskirts of the group looked around and said, 'dear me suz, it gets late early now!' and she put her head on her arm, and went sleepy sleepums--" "it's too wonderful; too wonderful!" mused elinor. "well, the best part is," said her brother, "that it is so simple and so cheap. that is, it is simple to combine." "where is the formula?" asked the business-like elinor. "in a safe, i hope." "no, not yet. the only formula in the world is here in my coat pocket." he patted the coat lying, on the hammock beside him. "there!" cried elinor. "why, lester, i call that awfully careless! i do truly think you ought to put it in a safe!" "that's all right," said lester, leaning back and playing with one of the dogs. "i have it in my head anyhow. come on, hon; i'm dead tired. let's forget about it for a little while; let's go see how the grapes are ripening." an hour later a well-grown boy came rapidly along the road and turned in the lower drive which led directly to the carriage. putting his wheel on its rack, he hustled into the kitchen where elinor, prettier than ever in her long blue apron, her face softly flushed from the fire, stood dishing up a delicious supper. "you are late, small boy," she cried. "get your hands washed, and go call lester. i think i left him about an hour ago, and he has been as still as a mouse ever since. he has something fine to tell you." she turned to the old woman who was helping her, and wugs, whistling loudly, went through the house and slammed the screen door as he reached the porch. elinor went on serving the supper. mr. pomeroy, her father, was away on one of the long trips he was accustomed to make. he was a breeder of fine cattle, and bought and sold continually. his wife was dead, and elinor was all in all to the man who was lonely even when surrounded by his three fine children. elinor was thinking of the dear little mother who had passed away, and wishing that she could be with them at a time when lester was to know the greatest pride of his life. supper was on, and she stood by the table thinking tenderly. then she frowned. she was conscious of the racket colonel, the big collie was making in his run. it occurred to her that the dog had been raving for an hour past, but she had been so intent on supper that she had laid the uproar to lester who loved to play with the bunch and get them excited. she stepped toward the window to speak to colonel, when she heard a shout from wugs. the shout wavered, and turned to a wild, high scream of horror. elinor stood motionless. then shriek after shriek split the air, and the girl sped to the front door, dashed it open, snapping on the porch light as she passed the switch in the hall. she gained the steps in her mad rush and paused. wugs's agonized voice guided her down to the side of the wide veranda. she dashed to his side and looked down where he was kneeling. poor, poor elinor! her brother--her darling lester--lay there limp and distorted, and from an ugly wound on his forehead the blood oozed slowly. beside him, her head on his breast, his beatrice, his special pet. she was dead; but with her last strength she had crept to the side of her beloved master she tried to defend. wugs looked up, his eyes wild with terror. "he's dead! he's dead! les is dead!" he kept saying. elinor knelt, put her ear on his heart, then sprang to her feet. "be a man, john," she, said quietly. "les is living. we will have to work fast to save him." after that it was all a terrible 'nightmare'. men came, and tender, strong hands lifted the unconscious burden and gently laid it on the bed where the little mother had lain so long before she had passed away into rest. other hands, just as gentle, carried the dead body of little beatrice around to the garage where, while decently washing the blood from her poor battered little head, they found a piece of rough, dark cloth clenched in the dog's set jaws. and the nightmare went on while some one telegraphed to mr. pomeroy, and the doctors behind closed doors worked over lester. nurses slipped silently into the house; detectives appeared, roped the curious people out of the grounds, and raked the place for clews. it was then that elinor had a thought. she called the chief of police, and took him into the library, shutting the door. "lester was always teasing me, chief, because i was so afraid of spies, but we may as well consider anything now. my brother had just perfected the most wonderful invention--a war device; and the board of directors at the works tried it out this afternoon. the formula was in lester's coat pocket--the only formula there is. i know it was there, because i told him i thought it was a careless way to carry it. he laughed at the idea of any one around here getting hold of it, and said anyway the formula was in his head. "i have looked in his coat pockets, all of them. "the formula is gone." "that's it, is it?" gritted the detective. "i am sure you are right, miss pomeroy. we have a reason for the deed now, and one clew to act on." he opened his hand and showed her the piece of cloth that poor little beatrice had torn from the intruder's garment. "did you ever see anything like this before?" he asked. "that is an unusual pattern. you have a lot of extra help here just now. did you ever notice a coat or a cap like this?" elinor shook her head. "never," she said. "well, don't you fret, miss pomeroy. we'll have to find that coat. the man who wears it has the formula. and it won't take long to run down a man who owns a giddy plaid like that. if your brother could only speak, he could help a lot." "is he no better?" asked the girl fearfully. "it's a pretty bad affair, i'm afraid," said the chief regretfully. "he'll pull through all right after a while, i think, but the doctors say there is a piece of bone pressing on the brain; and they may have to operate. in the meantime, we can't wait. you see this business of the formula puts things on a different basis. i will have to get the government secret service men here as soon as i possibly can. it is a national affair now. keep cool, miss pomeroy, and don't talk to any one. i'm going now, but i will leave a half-dozen men on the place. don't talk; don't let your brother talk. who is the old woman crying in the sitting room?" "it is aunt ann," elinor explained. "she is really no relation. her husband used to work here, and after he was killed she stayed on and took care of things for mother. then when mother died, why, of course she stayed. she is all alone in the world. she has or had a son, but he disappeared a good while ago. he was a very bad boy. the last she heard from him he was in south america. we think he is dead. poor aunt ann! she loves lester as thought he were her own child. i think she would die for him." "she is all right then," mused the detective. "well, i'll get along, miss pomeroy. just keep cool." elinor followed him to the door and stood leaning against the big porch pillar as the detective crunched briskly down the gravel path. a group of men came hurrying up to meet him, and elinor listened eagerly. "we got him, chief!" she heard a voice say triumphantly. "walking along the road bold as brass." "why shouldn't i?" an angry tone answered. "the street is public. ain't i got a right to go long it? what you pinchin' me for, anyhow? i ain't full and it ain't vagrancy to walk along the road to manlius. you leave me go!" "put him in the car." said the chief. "and look here, young fellow. i'll search you later; look here. here is something for you to chew on for a while. hold the flash, dennis. look here, you! see that piece of cloth? it just fits the torn place in your collar. she nearly got you, didn't she, before you managed to beat her brains out?" elinor heard a subdued struggle as the police loaded the prisoner into the car. she rushed into the house to tell aunt ann that the man had been caught. wugs with a couple of smaller scouts came up. wugs followed his sister into the house, and the two other boys sat down on the steps where they would not miss anything going on. philip and benjamin potter, known to their intimate friends as pork and beans potter, were twins painfully alike in thought, word and deed as well as size and looks. they sat side by side. each boy leaned his right elbow on his right knee and supported his chin on his hand. "funny 'bout that coat," said beans. "did you see it?" "yes," said porky. "i was lookin' all the time. you mean about there bein' two just alike. kind o'queer, loud pattern. and funny buttons. you know that man in the road was right under the big light, so we seen it plain, didn't we?" "sure!" said beany. he shifted elbows, and in a minute porky did the same. "but the man we passed in the road didn't look like the murderer, did he? kind of square built. looked worse than the real one, i thought." "i thought so too," agreed porky. "but they got the real one all right on account of the tear in the collar." "yes, of course," agreed beany. "but suppose they was pals. think we ought to tell?" "naw!" decided porky. "they bought 'em at the same store like as not. don't butt in with foolishness. le's go home and tell mom an pop." chapter ii off to see the colonel a week went by. in the jail a sullen prisoner, always swearing his innocence, lay awaiting the outcome of lester's injury, while day after day he lay tossing on his bed, delirious, or deep in a stupor from which it was difficult to rouse him. the police were satisfied that they had the man who had struck down lester, and had killed the dog, but doubts were creeping into wugs' mind. he himself had interviewed the prisoner, not telling him who he was. the man would say nothing, but wugs came off with the feeling that there was something queer afoot. "it's the wrong man," his brain kept telling him over and over; and when he told the police that, and heard their shouts of laughter, the words kept repeating themselves over and over, "the wrong man!" there was a boy scout meeting one night, and wugs went. after the usual business was over, gathering them around him in a close group, wugs went over the story of his brother's great invention, its try-out on the herd of cows, his home-coming, and the terrible ending to his triumphant day. then in a still lower tone, as though he feared the very walls might turn traitor, he told them of his feeling that the man waiting trial for the attack on poor lester was not the spy who had taken the formula. "that's the thing to find out," said wugs. "the police are dead sure they have the right fellow, but i'll never believe it until i find that paper. you see, he didn't have a chance to mail it unless he had a confederate waiting outside to take it away. that's what we have got to find out." "why, 'course he had a what-you-call-it!" the potter twins broke in. "slow down! slow down!" begged wugs. "gee, how do you suppose anybody can tell what you say when you both talk at once? let's have porky; you claim to be the oldest." "see how it was," said porky, with a free field, leering at his disgusted brother. "'me 'n' beany'd been swimmin'. we went down to the old water hole where the springboard is, and some cloze was sitting the bank. we saw a man in the water, an' we watched him. say, he could swim, he could! he could just live in the water. well, we took off our cloze by-en-by, and went in, and pretty soon he come out. he never noticed us any more'n if we wasn't there; only he come out a good ways from us and walked back where was his things, without lookin' our way. but we seen him; his lip was twisted sort of funny, and made him look like a grin. we'll, he dressed like a streak, and stalked off; and beany whispered, 'where did you get that coat?' but seems we didn't like to yell it right at him. he had a funny look. so we swam and by-en-by we come away too." "you forgot what we found," reminded beany. "when we came where his cloze had been we found two papers. one was just a plain paper in a plain envelope, and the other was a card written all up, something about admit bearer to all parts of fairgrounds. i suppose he is going to show something at the fair next week. anyhow he'll have to get another, because porky lost it out the hole in his pants pocket goin' home. and the other paper--" "wait till you get to it, can't you?" said the other twin, glaring fiercely at himself, or so it seemed to the boys watching. "we ain't come to that. but we seen the coat all right. well, we got on our wheels and started home." "i had the paper in my pocket," interrupted beany. "yes," said porky simply. "beany's pants was new. we come along through the village, and up just before you get to your first driveway, wugs, my handle bars come loose, and we had to get off and fix 'em. and beany looks up, and he says, 'gosh! here's another striped coat! and ain't it on a pirate!" "i looked and, sure 'nuff, there come along another coat just like the one over to the swimmin' hole but if that feller was bad, this one was worse. he had a big black mustache and he looked at us like he'd like to eat us. "when he went by," beany says, 'well, i bet he is a pirate all right!' "so we went on home. and after supper when we come to your house, wugs, why, you know about that, and there was another coat like the others being arre'sted. then we went back; and mother wanted us to write it all to uncle jake. and the lamp made beany's head hot, and he took the funny thin paper we found over to the swimmin' hole and made a sort of shade of it. and when we had our letter done, beany went to take down the shade and, honest to gosh, boys, it was all written on! wouldn't that frost you? i s'pose you think we're lyin'; but it's true. all writin' on two sides!" "what did you do with it then?" demanded wugs. "we showed it to mom and she took it and put it in her pocket." wugs groaned. "you see, wugs, they's three of those coats and every one's worse than the other," finished porky. "we must find those men. who is going over to patrol the fairgrounds this year beside me?" said wugs. "me and porky," said beany proudly. "what's the first thing to do?" asked porky. "well, one of you fellows who are not detailed to the fair had better go over to the troop d farm where the mounted police are training, and see when i can see colonel handler." "what you want of him?" asked a boy named asa downe. "i want to tell him enough of this so he will fix it to let us scouts go wherever we like. so the first thing in the morning, asa, you trot over there, and find out when i can see the colonel." asa started for the troop d farm as soon as he had finished a hasty breakfast the next morning. he had his part of the interview with colonel handler nicely and neatly rehearsed. he had worked so hard over it that he said, "thank you, colonel," when his mother had passed the doughnuts at breakfast. the more asa thought of it, the more he thought it would be fine to take some one along with him; and when he saw ahead of him the two violently red wheels of the potter twins, it was settled right there. he yelled, and they waited. "where you goin'!" he demanded. "over to the troop d farm," said porky, hopping off his wheel to rest. "what for? this is my job." "sure it is!" agreed beany. "but we knew you'd want some one along for fear you forgot of the things you wanted to say, and we knew we always remember better than the other fellows. so we started out. we knew you'd be along." "all right, you're on!" said asa and they pedaled rapidly along the beautiful country road. when they reached the farm, they found that the colonel, who stayed at syracuse with his family, had not yet arrived. the men were grooming the beautiful horses, rubbing up the bridles, and airing saddle blankets. porky and beany and asa, sitting on the stone wall at the side of the barn, watched and admired. "that's what i'm goin' to be"' whispered porky. "sure!" agreed beany. "wonder how long it will take us to get that high?" "dunno," said porky. "i outgrew two pairs of pants last year!" "here's the colonel," said asa as a big car was driven up and an officer stepped down. "wait! wait!" said asa, swallowing rapidly. "let him get through talking first. you see, he has charge of all the country patrols, and 'course he wants to give them orders. gee, how the spies must hate him!" as though in answer, a long, low racing car rolled smoothly and silently up, and stopped in the road just opposite where the boys sat on the stone wall. on the little rise where stood the low, rambling farmhouse, the colonel, with only a glance at the strangers, turned his back as though refusing to be interrupted, and went on with his orders. in the car, one of the men half rose, leveled a revolver full at the colonel's broad back, and fired. but almost before he could take his flashing aim, an unearthly screech volleyed from the potter twins, and from beany's good left hand a cobble whizzed through the air, and struck the assassin's shoulder. it destroyed his aim. the bullet went wild, and before he could recover, the colonel had whirled. with a muttered curse the would-be intruder fired full at the boys, dropped to the bottom of the machine, and the car shot forward will in incredible speed. leaping from the veranda with the agility of a boy, the colonel barked out a volley of sharp orders. men came swarming from their quarters. a man hurried to the telephone. horsemen dashed madly up the road. a slim, capable-looking racer slid from the garage, and the colonel and a couple of aides came down where the boys still stood grouped beside the stone wall. beany held a flattened bullet in his hand. it had struck beside him. chapter iii on the trail "if it hadn't been for you and your rock, young man, i would have been a dead man probably," said the colonel solemnly. "i wish we had the car number." "i got it," said porky, easily. "they will change it, i suppose, but it is new york , . and there's a patch on the right front tire, and the mud guard on that side has been bent and straightened, and the glass in the wind shield has a crack in one corner, and the staple on the tool box is broken." "oh, you know the car!" said the colonel, eagerly. "tell me that number again." he wrote rapidly, and called to his orderly. "telephone that to syracuse after you call fayetteville," he said, and again turned to the boys, but almost before he could speak again, he was called to the 'phone himself. when he came out, he frowned. "the car passed through the village about ten minutes ago," he said. "they were going fast, and headed over toward east syracuse by way of the wide waters. i have sent the alarm out, and as soon as i finish with you boys, i will go myself. now tell me in a word just why you boys came over." porky and beany told him painstakingly. "that's all right," said the colonel. "you did right to come for a permit. you see, my men are going to police the fairgrounds, and on account of the large amount of government property scattered around over there we will have to be very strict. the day the fair opens, come to my tent, and i will give you a badge that will allow you to go wherever you like without question." an orderly clattered up on a sweating horse. "they have found the automobile, sir," said the gallant youth. "good!" cried the colonel, rising. "yes, sir, it is lying in four feet of water at the edge of the bluff where the road from the village winds round the curve half way to manlius center." "and the men?" the colonel enquired sharply. "they must be pinned under the car, sir," said the soldier. "we thought if you would detail dennis and harrison--they are crackerjack swimmers--they could soon see what is under there." "tell the men to go at once," said the colonel. "i will follow." the colonel called his car, and with a nod indicated to the boys that they were to accompany him. the colonel's orderly leaped into the front seat beside the driver and asa, and on the back, seat, on either side of the big colonel, sat the potter twins looking so alike that it seemed a loss of time to look at one of them after you had seen the other, and feeling-well, they felt as important as you make 'em! arriving at the wide waters, they followed the colonel and his men as they went down the gouged out place in the bank where the car had cut its way to the water, and looked at the smashed machine that lay almost out of sight. it was in such a position, however, that it was plain that no one could be concealed under it. the men had escaped. a keen look of anger and surprise came into the colonel's face. "i imagine they have driven the car off the bank to put us off the scent," he said. "there is a life sentence for those men when we get them. they meant to kill me. i can't see the point in it; either." he walked back to his car and, entering it, was driven back to camp, stopping at the potter house to drop the twins. after the colonel's car had disappeared round the bend leading to the village, a small, wiry, evil-looking figure slipped cautiously from the dense underbrush at the edge of the road away from the cliff. he brushed the dirt from his clothes and laughed. "can't see the point of it, can you? i suppose not, you old saphead! it takes the wolf to plan things too deep for the likes of you." he laughed again, and with a glance in the direction of the village struck off over the hill into the fields beyond. he walked listlessly for half a mile, as though there was little need for haste, and any one watching him would have seen him finally lie down in a shady lane and, taking a small package from his pocket, open it and eat a sandwich. then he drew his ragged hat over his piercing little eyes, and at once went to sleep. he slept for hours, scarcely shifting his position. when he finally stretched and sat up, the sun was going down. he looked at it, and came to his feet. "a couple of hours more," he said to himself, and slowly sauntered back to the road and struck off toward manlius center. night was falling when three men, sitting silently in a bare, dusty, unfurnished room, looked up as a queer scratching sounded on the outer door. they glanced at each other. "it is the weasel, think you not?" said one, a tall man with a sear across his cheek. it was a mark that was scarcely noticeable unless he was angry; then it suddenly went white and stood out clearly across his brown skin. a thick-set man at the table gathered up a greasy pack of cards. "yes, it's the weasel, all right," he said. "i'm glad he obeys orders. i told him not to show his face here before dark." the third man did not speak. he sat in the best of the poor chairs, and was snowed under with newspapers. he had the look of an educated man, the jaw of a brute, the cold eye of a panther, almost golden in color, and the slender hands that held the printed sheet had the delicate, thin fingers of a thief. "door, adolph!" he said abruptly. the thickset man rose, spilling his cards. the third man pierced him with a look. "butter fingers!" he gritted, cursing softly in a foreign tongue. adolph left the room and noiselessly went down a rickety flight of stairs. he returned in a moment, the weasel following at his heels. the third man did not give him a glance. he sat looking at his beautiful, slender hands. no one spoke. "well, proceed!" cried the third man irritably. "proceed! proceed! proceed! himmel, you must be led step by step! speak, idiot! how goes it?" a look of hate flashed into the weasel's lowered eyes and was gone. he raised them timidly. "so far, so good, excellency. i hung on behind the tonneau. no one noticed in that lazy village. i could hear the colonel talking to the two small boys with him. he can't understand the attack, but he thinks the force he is building is being attacked through him on account of a gang of thieves who do not want to risk detection by his men. he thinks it has something to do with the fair. the colonel has gone to police headquarters. the boys went home." the weasel commenced to laugh silently. the wolf watched him. then "well?" he said again in his low, cutting voice. the weasel stopped. "your pardon, excellency. it is so amusing! that colonel, he must be a man forty-five years old. he treated those small boys, those boy scouts, like equals. he talked it over with them as though they were men. he told them--" "that will do," said the wolf. "i don't want to hear any more." and with those words, the wolf, murderer and german spy, sealed his doom. "now come here," he said. "you, adolph, you have done good work. that formula will mean victory for the fatherland. did i but dare, i would at once take it myself out of the country. but i have my orders. we must know all things about that concentration camp at the fairgrounds. yes, you have done well, adolph." the thick-set man smiled a queer, twisted smile with a crooked lip that always seemed to grin. the wolf continued. "from now on our task grows more difficult. you, weasel, will go to the aviation school at ithaca. you already understand planes. get their models; find out the methods of their management. cripple all the machines you can. report to me here when i call you. send me a name and address that will reach you. and, remember, no drinking or flirtations, weasel. don't forget my long arm and heavy hand." the weasel shuddered. "no, excellency," he said shortly. the wolf turned to the dark man with the scarred cheek, and pointed to his heavy, bristling mustache. "that must come off," he said. "there is a job for you in the administration building where colonel bright has his office. you will clean," as the man scowled, "i know you hate it. never mind! care not! we are in trust. you must do all as i say. i am your superior officer." "what do you do, excellency?" asked the dark man with something of a sneer. "i come to buy horses, ledermaim, and my father and colonel bright's father, they were friends. i bring a letter from my father in switzerland. unfortunately the colonel's father, he is dead; so i make acquaintance with his son. do you see, ledermann and adolph, and you too, weasel, that i take for myself the hardest job? now attend. under no circumstances are you to speak to me. if it is necessary to communicate with me before the close of the fair you will wipe your faces with one of these drab handkerchiefs. then you will come here, right here; no place nearer, and wait for me. i will keep all the papers instead of dividing them as before. you, ledermann, have plans of all the plants of any size about here. thanks." he filed the papers away. "adolph, give me the fair ticket, and the envelope with the blank paper. it looks innocent enough, doesn't it? all white paper; no writing. yet there is news indeed on that good, innocent, little sheet if one knows how to make it tell. i'll take them, adolph." he waited with a slim hand stretched across the table, while adolph plunged a hand into an inside pocket with a grin, felt in another concealed pocket, and returned to the first with his face growing grave and pale. the wolf watched him with steely eyes, suspicion dawning in them. "too slow; too slow, adolph!" he smiled. adolph looked up. "it is not here! it is gone! some one has stolen it!" he stammered. the wolf snarled. "oh, no, good adolph!" he said silkily. "look again." adolph, with fingers that shook, turned his pockets out one by one, then looked into the wolf's yellow eyes with a gaze pleading yet sullen. "they are gone," he said huskily. with a flashing motion the wolf reached across the table and clutched adolph by the throat. in a steel grip that he struggled hopelessly to loosen he was helpless as a child. brutally the wolf bore him back to the wall, where he beat his head savagely against the door frame. a look of savage glee shone on the wolf's smooth countenance. ledermann leaped across the floor and seized the wolf's arm. "off!" cried the murderer, and with his hand dealt ledermann a stinging blow in the face. he fell back. behind the overturned table, the weasel sat looking at the floor. it was nothing to him what they did. he shrugged his thin shoulders. suddenly the wolf stopped and let adolph slip to the floor, where he lay unconscious. the wolf kicked him. "i won't kill you, you swine!" he said. "you have got to find that paper. then i'll see about it. pick him up, somebody. i can't trust myself to touch him. lost that paper--of course it is written in invisible ink; but suppose some blundering fool should get it near a fire?" "they won't," said ledermann as he worked over adolph. "these stupid country people, what would they know about invisible ink? it may never be found at all. it may even now be trodden in the dust." "let us hope," said the wolf. "adolph shall retrace his steps inch by inch until the paper is found, even so much as a tiny scrap of it, so that i may know where it is." "he will find it in the dust," repeated ledermann and threw water over adolph, while the weasel stood up and tightened his belt. then the wolf counted out to him the money needed for his short journey to ithaca. the counting was interrupted with directions and threats. the weasel drew a long breath of relief when he was finally dismissed, and was allowed to slip out into the night, where he turned toward syracuse. ledermann still worked over the unconscious man. the wolf called at headquarters and was pleasantly received, with the formula that was to overthrow the world lying in his pocket. days went by, and monday came, and flags flew, and bands played, and crowds gathered, and the new york state fair opened at last. the wolf went unmolested; indeed he was an honored guest. quite safe he was for just one whole day. tuesday morning, as he drove in his fine car, splendidly dressed, his yellow eyes half hidden behind smoked glasses, a couple of boy scouts came out of colonel bright's office as he stopped his car at the steps. porky and beany stopped and stared. "out of the way!" said the wolf, as he approached the door. porky and beany stepped obediently aside. for a long time they stared at the door through which he had disappeared. "it's him!" said beany at last. "he drove the car when the other man shot at the colonel." "yes, it's him," repeated porky. "his ears ain't mates." "i know," said beany. "what we goin' to do?" "keep still and say nuthin'. if you ain't eleven foot tall, nobody believes you. i found that out. and i got a hunch that guy has the formula." "what makes you think that?" asked beany. "i got it too; but i don't believe it." "dunno," said beany. "don't you know how you feel it back of your neck when anybody looks in the window? i know it just like that. an' we got to do this job all alone. i don't like his looks neither. awful smooth' but' murderin'. are you game, porky, to land him ourselves?" "sure!" said porky. "ain't i alwus? what comes first?" "le's think," said beany. chapter iv revelations at the flower-house you would not have thought they were thinking at all as they sat on the broad brick steps, holding their chins in their right hands, left hands twisting their puttee lacers. they talked occasionally but not of the yellow-eyed man who was even then laughing and talking to the colonel. they came out a few minutes later, and "captain duchassis," as the colonel called him, ran lightly down and drove off toward the clubhouse. the colonel stood looking after him, and the two boys stood at attention beside him. he looked down and saw them presently. "boys, did you ever have a hunch?" he said. "yes, sir!" they said together. "silly things--hunches; very silly! never let a hunch spoil what seems to be a very good friendship, or change your opinion of a man." porky looked quickly up. "i got the same hunch, colonel," he said. "same man," added beany. "eh, what's this?" demanded the colonel. the boys were silent; and while the officer continued his puzzled study of the two faces, the long racer swept again to the steps, and captain duchassis stepped out and handed down a lovely girl. she was in a riding habit, and she ran lightly up to the colonel and kissed his tanned cheek. "well, daddy," she cried, "we are going to take a ride together, captain and i!" she looked at the young man beside her and smiled. he was resplendent in riding clothes and returned her smile tenderly. they stood talking with the colonel while they waited for their horses. "how does everything go, daddy? have you heard anything from elinor pomeroy?" she turned, "elinor is a school friend of mine," she explained. "she is in dreadful trouble. her brother invented a gas that will absolutely whip germany, and he was attacked the very night that the gas was tried out, and frightfully hurt, and the formula taken away from him. of course, it wouldn't matter if he could tell some one, but he never will. i heard to-day that he is conscious now, but the past is a perfect blank. isn't that too dreadful? i wish i knew where that paper is, i'd like to be the one to get it." "would you, miss carol?" asked captain duchassis. he smiled and tapped his swagger stick lightly on his boot top. "perhaps you are near it now. "no such luck! she sighed. "there will be luck for some one in it perhaps," said the colonel. "mr. leffingwell has just offered a splendid prize to any boy scout who finds the formula. he offers an education to the lucky lad. two years of prep school, and four years of college." "he is a what you call it safety-first man, is he not?" laughed the captain. "is he pro-german? it looks it, setting such a task for children." he turned to the young lady. "shall we mount? here are the horses." after the colonel had watched them canter away, he turned once more to speak to the boys. they were gone. sadly they had faded away around the corner, and drifted over to the cow stables, where they sat miserably down on a bale of hay. "what we goin' to do?" asked beany miserably. "that's the limit!" agreed porky. "here we got it all planned. we got to find that formula, nobody else has the chance we have, and now we've spotted one of our men. we will find that formula when we pull in the bunch that tried to shoot colonel handler. they are all mixed up somehow, you'll find. all right, we find that formula, because we got to do it for our country; and what do they do to us? what does mr. leffingwell do to us?" porky's voice rose to a wail. "what does he do?" he asked again. "he goes and sticks an education on us! a college education!" "is mr. leffingwell going to pick our college?" asked beany. "you bet he won't pick mine!" said porky, loftily. "cause there ain't goin' to be no such animal!" "well, i dunno," mused the other twin. "we got to find that formula. see, the more people we tell, the more it gums the works. it sounds cheeky, but we work better alone: me and you. le's go look around while we think. i can think better when i'm lookin i at things. "me too," said porky. they drifted over to the bandstand where the crowd was thickest and the noise loudest and, wriggling through the press, approached an ice cream stand. to reach the counter, porky stooped and jammed his thin figure between two men. they paid no attention to him. "where is the wolf?" asked one. "riding with the colonel's daughter," the other laughed. "trust the wolf!" "as far as you can see him," said the other. "i have news," said the shorter man. "meet me in the flower-house to-night at eight o'clock sharp." porky was afraid to look up for fear they would take notice of him. he drummed on the counter, and called loudly for a cone. the men moved away. porky looked cautiously after them. for a second, he thought of telling his brother to follow them, but remembered in time that they looked exactly alike. he moved over beside beany, who was biting scallops off the edges of his cone: he had not heard. "come here!" porky said briefly. he handed his cone to a small child and walked rapidly past the hospital, around the drive leading to the beautiful new horse stables and, cutting across the race-track, threw himself down in the center of the grassy ring where the saddle horses were shown. for acres around stretched open space. beany, used to his brother, lay flat in the grass and tipped his hat over his tanned face. "go on now. get it off your chest!" he demanded. "want to know what they call the guy that's riding with miss bright?" "duchassis--captain," said beany. "he's called the 'wolf,'" said porky. even alone as they were, he lowered his tone. beany sat suddenly erect. "what?" he said. "you heard me," said his brother. he rapidly repeated the conversation he had overheard. "where is the flower-house?" asked beany. "it must be the greenhouse," he said. "i think i have seen the shorter one of those men helping the head gardener." "i tell you what! it's your turn now, because i heard them plan this. so you go camp at the flower-house by-en-by, and i will keep watch around the gates to see if they change their minds and go out." "what good will that be?" said his brother. "you didn't see either of their faces." "no, but i saw their pants," said porky. "i can look at all the legs, can't i? but they won't be there. i will watch to make sure; but they will be right where they said, over by the flower-house. see, they don't use any science. all they do is get in a crowd, or back up against a good high wall, and tell each other their real names. if we bring this across, i've a mind for us to be detectives." "there's the college education," beany reminded him. "well," said porky, "i suppose detectives ought to know a little something. come on back, i want a sandwich. i have lived on hot dogs now for two days. notice how small they are getting? the dog part, i mean." as they rounded the grandstand, a heavy automobile truck backed up to something covered with a tarpaulin. the boys darted into the crowd. they demanded explanations of anybody who would answer. a boy spoke, up. "ridin' horse ran away," he said. "saw it 'myself. girl ridin' it." porky and beany gasped. "was she killed?" they cried. "didn't hurt her at all," said the strange boy rather regretfully, it seemed. "but the feller with her, he chased her an' his horse caught up, and the feller grabbed her bridle, and her horse 'swerved, and he was pulled offen his horse, and his horse come right bing into the bandstand, and broke his neck." "my gosh!" said the twins. "where did they take the man? was he hurt much?" the boy looked curiously at the pair. "say, do you always say the same thing like that? you ain't the same boy, are you? feller went over to the hospital." "hurt much?" said the boys. "there you go again! why, he limped, and i'll bet he's lame to-morrow but i guess he ain't in a dyin' condition." the boys watched while the unfortunate young horse was loaded on the truck, then turned toward the hospital. "what you got?" said beany, "a sore throat?" "i say not," cried his brother. "that's a symptom of scarlet fever. they would jug us in the detention ward. i'm goin' to have a splittin' headache." "that's scarlet fever too," said his brother. "pick somethin' a boy's apt to have." "hot dogs then," said beany. "i got an awful pain." a delightful, dimply nurse met them at the hospital. she heard their tale of woo sympathetically, and the boys, with a wisdom beyond their years, beamed back at her. "i will fix you something that won't spoil all the rest of your day," she said; and quickly stirred something in a glass that looked suspiciously like ginger and tasted like red pepper. they were still talking, "stallin' along" as porky said afterwards, when a group of people came out of the inner office. colonel bright led the way, his daughter on his arm. "yes, indeed," he was saying to the doctor, "she will be all right now. it was a wonderfully narrow escape for both of them. do all you can for captain duchassis. i'm sorry you won't let me take him home with me to-night. we are really very comfortably fixed in syracuse." "well, that's lucky," sighed porky. "we know where he is for a few hours anyhow. now there wont be any murderin' done while we find out just what's what." "people are beginnin' to thin out. what time is it? just five? great scott! we better be on our way. where will we meet?" "le's stay in the mounted police camp tonight. colonel handler, told us we could, and this is official business all right." beany reached the greenhouses and amused himself by talking with mr. o'neill, the head gardener. porky lounged against the gate, and watched the tired sightseers drag out. by six they were all gone, and porky felt that he could go back and sit down awhile. it occurred to him to get a close look at a wonderful piece of mr. o'neill's work that stood in the center of the beautiful lawn facing the central gateway. the floral piece was a little house, about the size of a large dog house, all made of growing plants. the sides were green, and the roof was lovely shades of red foliage plants. they were all clipped short and smooth, and it was the prettiest thing imaginable. there was even a door with broad hinges, looking as though it would really open, and the little windows were glass. porky had always thought that the inside must be of solid earth; but when he walked close, and stooped to look in he was surprised to find it a real little wooden house with wooden wall and floor, and over that a steel lattice work where the plants were rooted in moss and earth. he pushed against the door, and it fell in. he had trouble in getting it up, and was afraid some of the guards would happen along, so he crawled inside. it was softly warm from the hot sun that had beat on the plants and earth all day, and after he had propped the door it, he leaned against the wall. and immediately what did porky potter do but fall asleep. the sun went down and the dusty panes of glass in the little house reflected the glancing lights of official automobiles that swept along the smooth drives. far away on the hill the bugles sounded taps. some one leaned against the little house, and porky woke with a start. a man's shoulders bulked against one of the little windows as he lowered himself to the soft grass and leaned against the house. some one chuckled. "sit down," said a deep, coarse voice. "this is safe as a desert." "what's inside this ornament?" asked another. "nothing and no one. it is not made for anything to get into. it is all show, my adolph, all show--like the countess that our friend the wolf loves so back there in berlin. i wonder what she would think could she see him here?" "she will never see him here or there if i can help it," growled the other man. "i do not forget this bandaged neck, or this sore head of mine." he laughed a laugh that chilled porky. "watch, ledermann, watch! i'll not destroy him while he is busy on the emperor's business. but some day, some day, ledermann--" "never mind", said ledermann. "let that all go for now. what have you to, tell me? first?" "first, where is the wolf to-night?" asked adolph. "that's what always worries me most. he will rise at my side in a minute, i know." "not to-night," said ledermann. "for once he will not be here. he was thrown from his horse to-day, and is in the hospital. i think he is honestly hurt, because he cannot use his foot, and when i made an excuse and worked my way in, he whispered, 'not before thursday.'" "that will be day after to-morrow," said adolph. "and we meet him then, i take it, in the usual place?" "yes," said ledermann shortly. porky listened breathlessly to know where the place was. but there was silence. adolph's great shoulder pressed against the little windowpane, and a corner broke out and tinkled down. "be careful!" scolded ledermann. "you don't want to break this pretty toy. come now, and tell me all you have done." "not so much," said adolph, "except i have talked to all the young recruits. i tell you i have made war something so horrible that they will sleep restless from now on. i have planted dread and sorrow on many a heart. i have some plans i found on the colonel's table when i was fixing his electric light. i memorized them and later wrote them down. here they are." "it is too bad you did not memorized the letter of instructions you lost," said ledermann. "at home you would be shot for that, you know." "of course," agreed adolph. "however, i think the paper is safely lost, at all events. it has come to me where i lost it. it was the day i got the formula from that silly young inventor. it was very hot; and i found a wonderful secluded place, and went swimming. ah, ledermann, how i love the water! i must have lost that paper out of my pocket. i know i did. i went back but there was no paper there, but i found my pocket knife close to the water's edge, so the paper and ticket must have fallen in the water. what was it anyhow to the finder but a plain, clean piece of paper? no harm, no harm, ledermann!" "here is something the wolf told me to give you," said ledermann. "you are to use it whenever you can. watch the bakery." adolph took something in his hand. "the usual thing!" he asked. "yes," said ledermann. "poison." porky, scarcely breathing, listened with all his ears. and then a terrible thing happened. porky sneezed! chapter v all because of a sneeze loudly, earnestly porky sneezed. it was so sudden, so unexpected that he could not control or disguise it. it came out, seemingly filling the little plant house. to porky it sounded like a large gun going off. it was followed by an instant of deepest silence while porky crouched in his corner and wondered what next. like an inspiration the thought came to him as the two men, quick as cats, leaped for the door and shoved it in. ledermann had a flashlight in his hand, and he swept the little room, making an exclamation as he found what he sought and feared. in the corner he saw a little boy curled up asleep. adolph seized the boy's foot and jerked it roughly. with a start he awoke, muttering, "what's the matter?" "come out here!" cried ledermann, as adolph hauled the boy out of the door. "what's the matter?" cried porky. "i ain't doin' any harm! i was tired, and went in there, and i must have gone to sleep. how'd you know i was there? are you police?" "yes, that's it!" said ledermann. "you've guessed it. we are policemen." "where's your uniforms?" he asked then. "you ain't policemen. what you doin' here yourself? you can't arrest me for just goin' to sleep in this dinky little dog house. gee, i might have slept all night! guess i'll go along. pop and mom'll fix me for bein' so late." he started to rise, but ledermann pushed him back. "not so fast, not so fast, young follow!" he said slowly. "i would like to find out, if possible, just how much asleep you were. you see we don't think you would listen to anything that was not intended for your ears, but we want you to tell us if you did hear any little thing. by mistake, of course." "wasting time!" grunted adolph. "let me tickle him with my little toy here. safety first, as these people always say." "be quiet!" ordered ledermann. "and you too, young fellow! if you try to scream, we will kill you." "aw, quit your kiddn'!" said porky cheekily. "what would i want to yell for? i don't want to get arrested any more than i am. i want to go home! tell you, how could i hear anything when i was asleep? i want to go home! what's it to me what you talk about?" he sniffed, and drew his cuff across his eyes. "let me have him," said adolph. "let me go outside the gates with him." "no," said porky, using his cuff again. "i ain't goin' with nobody. i know how to get home. i don't have to have somebody take me." he tried to wiggle away, but felt adolph's clutch close like an iron vise. "there, there," said ledermann quietly, as he nudged adolph under cover of the darkness. "all we want to know is how much you heard. it is nothing to me what you do after that. you see my friend here does not mean what he says, but--well, i may as well tell you how it is." he turned the flashlight on the boy's face and held it there, watching him like a hawk while he talked. "my friend has invented something that will prove to be a very wonderful thing for everybody in the world, and he is very anxious that it shall be kept a secret until he is ready to put it on the market. now you are a smart boy, and i will give you one guess to see if you can tell me what we were talking about. tell me what you think he has invented." porky thought a moment with a deep frown on his face. "it's a patent medicine he has invented," he ventured finally. "that's a good guess," said ledermann. "such a good guess that i think you must have heard some of our talk." "i didn't, honest," said porky. "couldn't you see i was asleep? what do you suppose i care about your old patent medicine? so long as you ain't policemen, let me go. i want to go home!" "you shall go," said ledermann, scowling in the direction of adolph, "but i am afraid you might follow us and find out about the medicine. if you stay right here for a while, why, we will go away, and you will never know to whom you have been talking in this pitch dark. so we will just get you to do that much for us. and if you tell any one how you came to be here, or what we have said to you, we will come back and kill you and kill all your people!" he hissed the awful threat in the boy's ear, and shutting off the flashlight, he took a cord from his pocket, and wound it tightly around the boy's wrists and ankles, tying it in a peculiar knot. then with a handkerchief he gagged him. "now," he said to porky, "you can get that cord off and the gag out, but you are going to sleep for a little while." he took a little pill from his pocket and forced it far back in porky's mouth. "we will sit outside and watch you a while," said the spy. he laid the boy down on the floor of the house, propped the door in place, and all was silent. in the house, porky, lying flat on his back, was trying frantically to work the pill out between his lips before it dissolved. he rolled it forward in his cheek, and turned on his face and blew hard. the pill rolled out on the floor. porky went limp. sweat poured down his face as he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. there was absolute silence outside but porky fancied he could hear the breathing of the watchers. it seemed hours and hours before he heard the door move, and knew the flashlight was directed on him. then he heard a grunt of satisfaction and soft footsteps padding over the close grass told him that at last the two villains were gone. porky did not dare to stir, however, and lay thinking out his next move. he felt that for a little while he was safe. his one concern was for his brother, who had been watching over the greenhouses on the other side of the race-track. it occurred to him that beany would be waiting for him there. he decided that for a while at least he would not report the affair to colonel bright. he wanted to find his brother. but he did not dare leave the toy house, so he lay listening to every sound and working in the dark with the most extraordinary knot that ledermann had tied in the cord cutting into his ankles. beany, who had walked rapidly over to the place allocated for him, had waited in vain for something to turn up, and long after the time set for the meeting had commenced watching for his brother. something, he felt sure, had happened in some other part of the grounds. he was strangely uneasy. a great desire to find porky came over him. he walked down the road, leading from the great upper camp, and stood looking in every direction. watching for his brother. as he looked, a familiar car swept past him an and stopped. it was the colonel's car, and colonel bright himself leaned out and beckoned him. beany ran to the machine and saluted. "hop in, hop in!" said the colonel. "i don't know which one you are but i want to talk to you. go on, sergeant," and the car leaped forward. "you or your brother said something about a hunch. never mind which one, i'll bet you both think alike. now i want to know all about it. what's that hunch all about?" beany was silent. "come on, i'm listening," he said, urging the boy to words. beany looked up into the strong, rugged face and studied the keen, kind, twinkling eyes that made the colonel the best loved man in the american army, then leaned close to the colonel, and told him of the two men at the ice-cream stand, and then, going back, he told of their recognition of the captain as the man who had driven the car at the troop d farm. the colonel listened, even forgetting to smoke, and a frown deepened on his face. "where is your brother now?" he asked. "i don't know," said beany. "at the green house waitin' for me, i suppose." "would he go home, or back to the police camp?" "no, sir, we always wait for each other," explained beany. "well, we are in town now," said the colonel, "and soon as i do an errand downtown you may take me to your house, and then the sergeant will run you back to the camp. if you find your brother, telephone me. i don't need to tell you to keep silent. don't forget what a big thing you're doing, my boy, and also what a great reward if you find the formula. think of it, a college education! and i will see to it that you will each have one." "yes, sir," said beany thickly. "i keep a-thinkin' about the college education." "that's right," said the colonel heartily. "that's right! just think what a fine thing to earn. the chance to have four years, in fact, to have six years good hard study in a good school and college. think of the fellows that would jump at a chance like that!" "yes, sir," said beany, and added earnestly, "i wish they had it to jump at. here is your corner." he skipped out of the car, and when the colonel went in to the big office building, beany stood on the curb and looked around him. beany was tired and dirty and pale through the grime. he had had no supper. he was low, very low in his mind. all that talk about college again. hang it! he had clean forgotten that hanging over him, and had been enjoying all this spy hunting for its own sake. the more he thought of that college education, the more he glared. he groaned, and turned just in time to face a couple of men who were hurrying across the sidewalk. they glanced a him, stopped short, and the smaller man went dead white. "look, ledermann!" he cried in a choking voice. "it's the same! what did you give him?" he screamed suddenly, his face worked, and grew purple. then down he went frothing in such a terrible convulsion that beany bolted into the colonel's car, frightened out of his wits. a crowd gathered, and at once ambulance was summoned, and policemen were taking the names of people who had happened to be near; but no one thought of taking anything at all from the boy scout who sat so still beside the colonel's driver. when the ambulance had clattered away with its gong ringing noisily, the sergeant turned to beany. "well, you did for him all right!" he said. "what did i do?" demanded beany. "that's all right," said the sergeant. "i have my eyes all right, all right. you tell the colonel or i will. those bums give you a look, and threw a fit. both of 'em. i saw their eyes stick out a yard. they acted like you was a ghost. you do look pretty pale, at that! well, i bet you've done for one of them. i never saw a harder fit in my life. you certainly gave him some scare." "i never saw him before," beany said over and over. when the colonel came out, the sergeant gave him a glare, and he repeated the incident as they drove toward the colonel's house. the colonel said he would telephone to the hospital, as the man would no doubt come out all right. beany said good-night to the colonel and slipped back in the seat beside the sergeant. "funny about that fellow," said the soldier. "did you hear what he said? he said, 'what did you give him?' looks queer to me. looks like he thought you were the ghost of somebody they had just killed. must be you looked like somebody--" the man stopped, and stared at beany for a startled second. "where's your twin?" he asked suddenly. beany went cold. a thousand frightful thoughts and possibilities surged up in his mind. where was porky? he turned and struck the sergeant a sharp blow on the arm. "drive fast!" he demanded, and settling low in his seat, watched the road drive at their car and disappear under it, as the sergeant, eager as, claimed the privilege of the colonel's car and leaped past everything on the boulevard. "where will you go?" cried the sergeant in his ear. "here by the gate first," said beany, leaping out of the car. the sergeant stopped his engine. "i'll go with you," he said kindly. it seemed a hopeless task. they did not know where to look, but first tried all the seats around the bandstand and the settees on the great porches behind the pillars of the administration and fine arts building. then they drove the car over to the greenhouse, but all was quiet and deserted there. at the suggestion of the sergeant, they went to the hospital but no boy had been brought in. once more they approached the gate, and again they left the car, and looked silently about in the darkness. beany was trembling with fear; fear for the brother whom he loved. he placed his fingers to his lips and gave a shrill, clear whistle. three times he repeated the call that sounded like some night bird's song. then, as they listened, it was repeated. it was a muffled sound, yet close. once more beany gave the signal, this time with a leaping heart, and the answer came clear and keen, as though a lid had been taken off. beany ran in the direction of the sound. as he passed the flower-house, porky hailed him. "hey!" he said. "got a knife?" guided by porky's voice, beany and the sergeant raced across the grass. "here i am!" said porky, cocky as you please. "say, i wish you could see this knot! i have worked about all night over it, and it gets tighter and tighter." the sergeant whipped out a knife and cut the cord. "who tied you up?" he asked. "a couple of fellows," said porky, stamping the feeling into his feet and ankles. "couldn't see who they were." "you can see one of them any time now, i'll bet," said the sergeant. "your brother here did for him in the neatest way you ever saw." he repeated the meeting on salina street, while porky walked up and down the drive between the sergeant and his brother. "yes, sir, he keeled right over and gosh, how he did flop around! it was a fit all right. i bet he died, too, because he went limp all at once. he acted like he'd seen a ghost. he yelled, 'what did you give him?' to the other fellow. what did he call him?" he asked beany. "i heard him call some name." porky's elbow went sharply into beany's ribs. "didn't catch it," said he, obeying the warning for silence. chapter vi orders from the colonel over in the hospital, the dimply nurse laid compresses on the swollen ankle of captain duchassis. she found her patient wakeful, and worn with pain. the leg was badly wrenched, it seemed. the dimply nurse talked pleasantly with her distinguished guest, and to amuse him told him a small joke. it was an amusing little joke to her. a boy had dropped in during the afternoon, and had asked for the captain. he seemed most anxious to know just how he was getting, along; and when she had told him that he could not leave the hospital for another day, the boy had said, "i wish i could help take care of the captain. say, nurse, what have you done with his boots?" "my boots?" said the captain blankly. "my boots?" "wasn't it funny?" said the nurse. "i suppose he is so crazy over you, boy-like, that he wanted to see your tall boots. don't you suppose so?" "probably," said the captain. he put a hand over the side of the bed, and felt to see if his boots were there. then he grew so quiet that the nurse slipped softly away, thinking him asleep. when she had gone he did a strange thing. he took those boots, dusty as they were and, placing them under the pillow, went to sleep. but in the morning, although the nurse came in very early, the boots were under the bed. "if he comes in this morning, send him up here, won't you?" he begged. "it would amuse me so; and i don't want to get up until afternoon. i would be so charmed to meet that funny little boy. my boots! how droll!" about ten o'clock two boys strolled into the office and passed the nurses' sitting-room. the dimply nurse seized on one of them. "i am so glad you have come!" she said. "captain duchassis wants to see you. i told him how you came in and asked for him yesterday." she went on. "i can't go up for another hour; so you can both go up and amuse him. i am sure he will tell you wonderful things about the other side. through the office and upstairs, boys." she shooed them out and beany and asa stopped outside the door and consulted. asa was a good boy but about as progressive as a potato, and something the color of a peeled one. no amount of sun tanned him. it made his eye-lashes whiter if anything, and his lips paler. "were you here at all yesterday?" demanded beany. "oh, yes," said asa. "twice." "well, then, listen here. i want you should go up there, and when he says are you the boy who was here yesterday, you say yes, and don't say anything else if you can help it. see?" "oh, yes," said asa, who did not see at all, but who did not let that bother lot that bother him in the least. "mind!" said beany sternly. "i don't want him to know about me or porky at all. there are reasons; scout reasons, asa, so you mind out. got that through your nut?" "oh, yes," said asa, blinking his white lashes. "you ain't afraid of him, are you?" asked beany, remembering the wolf's keen eye. "oh, no," said asa. when asa came down in a few minutes, he seemed rather upset--for asa. he blinked rapidly, and there was something so worried in his open smile that beany felt conscience-stricken to think he had sent him on such an errand. he rose, and they walked rapidly away, for asa seemed to be thinking deeply. when they reached the seats around the bandstand, deserted so early in the morning, beany sat down. "well, let's have it," he demanded. "that's a funny guy," said asa, twirling his scout hat rapidly in his pale bands. "i did just what you said. i went in, and i said, 'morning!' at all. he just looked at me until i felt like i wasn't there at all; and he smiled softer than anything i ever see except, some one--i can't think who it was. well, i did what you said, and he said--" "what did you do that i said?" said beany anxiously. "why, nothing," said asa. "just stood; and he said, 'come here, boy,' and i went closer and he said, 'so you were here yesterday,' and i said, 'oh, yes.' and then he says, 'well, what do you think of a swiss captain's uniform--pretty fine, eh?" i says, 'oh, yes,' and he says, ''specially the boots?' and gimlets his eyes right into me. i wanted to say i'd never seen no swiss captain's boots, but i remembered what you told me, so i looked back at him and didn't say anything. and then he laughed and said, 'all that scare for nothing! my boy, you are a refreshing draught. thank you for coming. i am so glad to know just what you are like that i will tell you a great truth. remember it. it is this: all women are fools." "well, go on!" demanded beany. "what did you say to that?" "i remembered what you said," smiled asa, "and i just said, 'oh, yes.'" beany, in spite of his anxiety, howled until he fell off the bench. "what did he say!" he asked as soon as he could speak. "why, he laughed too," said asa, with a puzzled look, and he said, "such wisdom in one so young!' then i came out. darned if i didn't think part of the time he was kiddin' me!" "well, i got to find porky and go on guard at the administration building!" said beany. "where you going?" "over to the clubhouse," said asa. "i wonder who he looks like when he smiles." "well, for cat's sake," cried beany, "forget it; lose it; shake it! what do you care who he smiles like? gee--" he turned and walked rapidly away. he had nearly reached the administration building when he heard asa calling his name. beany turned and waited while the other pounded up. "i remembered," he said in a relieved tone. "gee, for a while i couldn't think but now i can! he smiles just like our collie when he's goin' to bite the mailman. that's just who he smiles like!" he waved a hand and turned away, and commenced to retrace his steps. beany stood looking after him. "gosh!" he said feebly. "why gosh, young man!" said a deep voice. beany whirled and saluted the colonel. "it's that asa, sir," he said and proceeded to give an account of the past few hours. "where is your brother?" he asked when they had talked things over awhile. "coming right now," said beany. the colonel glanced up. "sure enough, here he is," he said. "who is with him? is that the boy you have been telling me about?" "yes, sir, that's asa," laughed beany. "you boys come into my office," said the colonel. he led the way, spoke to the orderly, and closed the door. "now, boys," he said, "you are such little daredevils that you are not going to like the plan we have made at all. i have consulted with the police, and with colonel handler, and now i want to take you into our confidence. all the credit for discovering this particular group of spies belongs to you. we do not want to get you into any unnecessary harm, however, and it is wisest to have you keep entirely out of it. that seems poor pay, doesn't it, when you have done such good work? however, right is right, and you want to be good soldiers and take orders as such. we are going to raid the house where we know the gang will soon meet. we have located the place, and the men. the fellow you gave such a start last night, beany, will not trouble us again. he never came out of that fit." "my gosh!" said beany. it gave him a queer feeling. "no," said the colonel, "he is done for. now, boys, take a day off. go home and see your mothers." he played with the pen on his desk for a moment. "boys, i am going to tell you something. i am fifty-eight years old and i don't want you to forget what i tell you. whatever you do, whatever gain, wherever you go, remember one thing. don't neglect your mothers. no true man will. as long as you live, or as long as your mothers live, you will seem just little boys to them. they never think that you grow up. when you were little shavers, your mothers did for you more than any one else in the world would do. they did things that a father would do about once. then he would be ready to give up his job. but your mothers went right on day after day, year after year, doing hard, thankless, disagreeable things. i bet you get this preached to you a lot, boys, but i want to say it to you, too. if you are away from them, write a letter, a real letter once each week. it is not much to do. do it, boys! and don't forget the kisses. if you kiss your mother every time you come into the house or leave it, you will still have all you want for your sweethearts when you get 'em. begin to-night when you go home. will you?" "yes, sir," promised the potter twins huskily. no word came from asa. the colonel looked at him. "and you?" he said. asa swallowed convulsively. a tear glistened on the tip of his pale, thin nose. he nodded violently; then the words came. "oh, yes!" he said. chapter vii home again after all it was a sort of lark to be off duty and go bumming around the fairgrounds without a single thing to worry about except where the formula was. certainly if the wolf had it, it had gone off for a little airing, because as the boys came out of the colonel's office they saw captain duchassis being driven out of the fairgrounds in an automobile. they could scarcely give chase, and they had been left out of the raid that was planned. so there was nothing for them to do but chase around and see things, and the sun was setting when the boys turned into the walk leading under the double row of fir trees, up to their house. home, not seen for four days, looked good to the potter twins. the dining room was lighted, and their father sat reading the evening paper. mrs. potter was "dishin' up." she made swift journeys to the kitchen, and returned each time with both hands full of steaming dishes. the boys took a look, and made a dash for the door. the colonel had talked wisely and well. porky attacked his father from the rear, and strangled him in a bear's hug, knocking off his glasses. beany had his mother round the neck too, but not so roughly. he kissed her hurriedly on the ear and then on the check and lips. then he released her as porky came bolting around the table. mr. potter, grinning with happiness, was feeling on the floor for his glasses; mrs. potter's eyes bright with joy. "why, how you do take on! dear me suz!" "gee, but it's good to get home!" said the twins together. porky went back and sat on the arm of his father's chair. beany followed his mother into the kitchen. she had hurried out to wipe her eyes. "didn't think we'd be home, did you, mom?" asked beany, pretending to look in the sugar bowl. "i kind of plotted on it," said mrs. potter. "i felt like it was a good thing to be on the safe side." she opened a tin box, and drew forth a cake, a glorious large, dark, chocolate layer cake. "well, what's the news?" asked porky presently at the table helping himself to more fried chicken and potatoes and parsnips and honey. "yes, what has happened?" echoed beany, taking a portion of the chicken and potatoes, and parsnips, and adding mustard pickle, and preserved watermelon rind and jam. "must be something has happened." "yes," said pop potter, smiling. "you bin away all of four days. long enough for everybody round here to breathe easy for once!" "well, things does happen!" said mrs. potter. "i saw the land boy the other day, and if he ain't drafted!" "yes, and what think she says?" pop potter exclaimed. "she says, 'so you're drafted? well, well, ain't you sorry just for your own face, that you didn't enlist?'" "well, i so felt!" mom potter defended herself. "dear me, suz, if you boys had to be drug--well, i dunno what i'd do!" "good for you, mom!" said porky. "i knew you had the spunk. we will be in it somehow ruther, if they don't stick us in school." "how's that?" asked mr. potter. the boys proceeded to explain. mom and pop, potter looked slyly at each other. "education is a great thing," said pop potter, filling his pipe. "i must say--" "why, dear me suz!" said mom flutteringly. "school and college! land sakes! you could both be ministers!" "no!" cried the twins, savagely attacking elderberry pie and the cake. "don't you think it!" "it's real respectable," said pop potter, winking at the boys when mom potter wasn't looking. "and think of all the church suppers durin' the course of the year!" "no potter's ever been in the pulpit," said mom dreamily. "yes, there was," corrected pop, "i was there myself oncet. i grained it golden oak; and if i do say it, 'twas a neat job." "my land, you know what i mean!" said mom, quite testily for her. "it's worth tryin' for, anyhow." "well, we'll hope for the best," said beany. "pirates?" asked pop. "no, detectives" said porky. "but often are not certain. we maybe all right yet." "i suppose they, will get the spies to-night," said beany, "and when they get them, i hope they get the formula too. say, how is lester anyway?" "he's come to himself," said mom, "but dear me suz! he don't know no more what's gone by. he knows his father and sister and wugs, because they told him who they was; but he just has clean forgot such a thing as acids or gases or any of that. he don't care about anything but the cat. "the cat?" said the boys. "yes, a young cat that plays with a string most all day; and he seems to think it's a great joke." "gee that's awful! i think we better start early enough to go over there a minute," said porky sadly. "don't go yet awhile, boys," said mrs. potter, bustling round to clear the table. the boys got up and helped her. "pop and i have been reel lonesome without you." "we will be home saturday afternoon," said beany. "and i do think we had better go pretty soon. i think we'd better take that paper over to colonel bright. don't you think so, porky?" porky put the paper in his breast pocket and buttoned the flap. "we'll be home for good now, before you know it," said beany. "mr. leffingwell says we are to return to his apartments to stay the rest of the nights. he has a swell place in town. so we are to go as far as mr. leffingwell's in the colonel's car when he goes home. some class to us, don't you say so, mom? guess we'd better hike, folkses," he said. "bye!" the boys started for the door, then turned and gave pop potter another bear hug, and kissed their mother with a tenderness that seemed to deepen with every caress. "seems like it does 'em good to go off," said pop huskily. "i won't say that," said mom loyally. "they was always the nicest boys i ever did see if they was mine; but they do seem sort of different. sort of lovin'er, like they was when they was little. i can't say, ben, that i ain't missed it. seems real pleasant to have 'em let on how much they think. it makes me feel reel good. dear me suz!" said mrs. potter simply. she took up her sewing and sat busily working. once in awhile she hummed a little tune. pop potter watched her slyly over his paper, but said nothing. the canary bird, however, hanging in mrs. potter's bedroom window where he was supposed to bask in the afternoon sun, could have told that pop potter awkwardly kissed mom potter good-night, something he had not done for years. and in the darkness mom potter was far too happy to sleep, and in the fullness of her joy lay there inventing cakes of such size and creaminess and lightness that the like was never seen. asa too had had his lesson. the barking collie had foretold his arrival, and when his mother and three sisters, each as pale and thin as himself, appeared in the door, he managed to kiss them all. it was such an amazing thing to have happen that a silence immediately fell, while two of the girls hastily wiped off their cheeks. a look of happiness dawned through the surprise on however, his mother's face, and she shyly kept her hand on asa's knobby shoulder as he entered the house. asa was the center of attraction at the supper table where he ran the potter twins a close second in the amount he ate. the girls, perfectly silent, sat staring at him round-eyed; and his father, it larger edition of himself, listened or asked short questions. when the potter twins whistled outside, asa shook hands solemnly with his father, and resolutely kissed the sisters and his mother good-night. when he was out of hearing, and the barking collie had returned to the doorstep, mrs. downe burst into sudden tears. "what's up; what's up?" her husband demanded. "asy," she sobbed, "did you mind how he acted? it must be he's had a call. they's been a hoot owl outside three nights now. i do believe that's it! asy's got a call from beyond!" the three sisters began to cry. "puffickly ridiklus!" said asa's father. "purfickly ridiklus. that hoot owl ain't got no grudge 'gainst asa. he's got some new scout bee in his bunnit, i'll bet. don't know but i like to see a boy make of his wimmin folks, at that. it never looks soft to me. don't hurt no man." he lifted the smallest girl to his knee. she looked frightened but after a moment cuddled up to her father, and tucked a warm little hand around his neck. "don't hurt no man," repeated asa's father and held the little girl so closely that she fell happily asleep; while asa's mother, working like a whirlwind, thought the night's work strangely light, with the warmth of her only son's kiss on her check. asa went cantering down the hill to meet the potters, and together they strolled over to wugs' house, that house of unhappiness where the brightest, happiest member of the household lay gazing at the sky or for hours playing with the kitten. he did not know the boys, but when wugs told him who they were, he greeted them pleasantly enough. it was very painful, and the boys slipped away as soon as they could and, followed by wugs, went down to the edge of the lawn, and talked things over. wugs could scarcely leave home at all. he wanted to enlist; he was nearly old enough, and now that lester was sick, why, some one ought to help the country--some pomeroy. the boys agreed. but his dad and elinor needed him, too; so he supposed he would have to wait yet. porky, rolling around on the grass, felt the paper rustle in his pocket. "here, asy," he said. "you ought to be in on this. i'm going to let you carry this paper. it is very important indeed." asa beamed, but as usual said nothing. it was fine to be in on things. it made him feel important. he patted his pocket, and sat straighter. the paper rustled, just as any paper would rustle. asa, listening, heard no warning in the sound. finishing their talk, porky decided that it was getting very late, and they boarded the next car passing. it was nearly empty, and the boys dozed all the way to town. in fact, they were so sleepy that the car had reached new york central station before they roused themselves. they had been carried two blocks too far. "well, we are here, anyway," said beany, "and i'm going inside to get a stick of gum." "that's a good stunt," said porky. they ran up the steps and entered the great waiting-room. asa did not like gum, and, besides, asa never liked to spend a penny. he stood looking about him in the middle of the space in front of the ticket office, while the twins went over to the penny-in-the-slot machine. and then it happened-- asa, turning from his inspection of the ticket window, gazed at a space over which hung a large sign "information." a man who had been talking turned and started toward asa. it was the wolf. now when the wolf, on his way to the station to enquire about trains, had reached a certain dark corner just outside the city, he had stopped long enough to do something by the aid of a flashlight and a little packet. so when he walked into the station his face was change. it was no longer long and lean and smooth. his cheeks stuck out, and a long, heavy mustache covered his mouth. but he could not hide his peculiar, slight limp, or the cruel yellow eyes; and when asa saw those eyes he knew them. he tried to move; to slide out of the way. his one frantic desire was to escape unnoticed. but the wildness of the boy's stare caught the wolf's eye. he looked at the boy carelessly, then attentively as he saw that the boy recognized him. he too recognized the boy as the one who had visited him in the hospital. he acted instantly. he stepped forward, and dropped a steel-fingered hand on asa's shoulder. "one single word, and i'll kill you right here," muttered the wolf, and asa felt that it was no idle threat. asa did not need to be spoken to again. all the wickedness, all the blood-curdling threats that he had ever imagined, were in the wolf's touch on his collar. he was like a rabbit that suddenly sees the white fangs of the hound close above him. he was dumb with fright. he gave his captor one quaking look, and obedient to the guiding hand, passed out the door into the street. it was filled with people. the wolf sought the most crowded side and mingled with the throngs. in the meantime porky and beany, having secured their much-wished-for gum, a hard task on account of a penny jamming in the slot, turned to join their friend. "where's old asa? i bet he's having a fit," said beany, chewing comfortably. "look! look!" said beany suddenly, grasping his brother by the arm. "there at the door!" porky looked. "that's asa," he said. "who's he going off with-- beany, it's the wolf!" chapter viii in the power of the wolf the wolf, walking as though bent entirely on sightseeing, yet covering ground rapidly, led the way through the busiest part of the city, and into a quieter residential section, where he sat down on a bench just within a walled park. the wolf was not conscious of his surroundings. he could only dwell on the fact that the boy at his side had recognized him, was following him. he did not doubt for an instant that the secret service had made use of this seemingly innocent and simple tool. asa sat silent under the wolf's hand. he thought of his home. little things occurred to him. once he nearly giggled when he remembered how the collie played with the cat; and the wolf, feeling his shoulders quiver, looked sharply at him. asa thought of his father and the little dragged-out mother. he thought of the three thin, silent little sisters. they would miss him. he was so glad he had kissed them all that last night at home. it only went to prove what colonel bright had said. you were always glad afterwards. he was glad. it was very dark as they walked slowly back to the entrance, the boys still stalking them. outside the gate, the wolf hesitated. as he looked, a small figure slipped from a shadow across the light, whistled a peculiar bar of music, and sidled up. "didn't expect to meet you here, excellency," said the weasel. "what are you doing here?" "been working at the ammunition plants," said the little spy. "wish you'd give me some money. i'm stone broke. hello," as he spied asa. "where did you pick this up?" "i'm taking him to the house," said the wolf. "better let me have him, excellency. i'll drop him somewhere where he will be out of the way. "i'll take care of that," said the wolf, snarling and sinking his steel fingers in asa's shoulder. the weasel looked at the man in disgust. "well, let me have some money, excellency." "what for?" demanded his master. "i have worked hard all day. i want to have a little fun with it. i have earned it. "not a cent!" rasped the wolf. "i know you, drinking and gaming--not a cent! for asking you shall go out and earn your supper." the weasel whirled round at him. "you give me some money!" he whispered. in the excitement of the moment he seemed to lose his voice. he seized the wolf's arm. with an oath the wolf flung him away. he staggered and went headlong. the shock seemed to infuriate him. he leaped silently at the wolf. there was a sudden flash of steel, and the weasel turned with a spring, whirled, and went down in a heap. the wolf, almost before he touched the ground, tightened his grasp on asa, and dodged back into the park. rapidly, through paths that seemed familiar, he gained another entrance, and emerged on a quiet street. down this street he hurried the exhausted boy, turned suddenly into a basement where it was pitch dark, and rapped on the door. it was a peculiar rap, and reminded asa of telegraphy. in a moment the door swung open, they entered, the wolf fastened the door behind him, and for the first time since he caught asa, he let go of his shoulder. he struck a match and let the blaze shine in his face. there was a queer grunt in the darkness. without speaking, the wolf clutched the boy once more, and led him up three flights of carpeted stairs, and into a huge room lighted by a couple of candles. it was the wolf's den. he flung asa into a big, ragged chair, and, throwing his goggles and hat on the table, sat down opposite asa, and lighted a cigarette. then, reaching under the table, he pulled out a big square box on rollers, and unlocked it with a key which he wore on his watch chain. he took out a bottle and glass. pouring a full portion, he drained it at a gulp. another and another glass he emptied. the fiery liquid went to his head. a new look came over his face. "i've got you, haven't i," he demanded of the boy. "i've got you, and this time i'm going to keep you!" he took another drink. "how did you come to suspect who i was, you, little fool?" he demanded. "the day you came to see me in the hospital and stood there saying, 'oh, yes,' to everything i said--who put you on my track, eh? somebody was smart--thought i would never notice a small boy, eh? ho did it?" "nobuddy put me on anybuddy's track," said asa. "i just happened around every time." "of course!" said the wolf. "of course! you just happened a round. funny, as you americans say. and the letter in your pocket--it happens that i lost that letter through the idiocy of one of my servants. you happened to find that also, of course. where did you find it?" asa was silent. he determined not to tell. "now i want you to tell me the whole thing. if you tell me everything, i shall give you a great sum of money and let you go. won't that be fine?" he paused again, looking keenly at asa. "come, come!" said the wolf. "i do not like to be kept waiting. you saw what i did to the little man down the street. i stabbed him. i am not afraid to tell you. i shall not stab you. oh, no! you are a nice boy; you are going to tell me all about everything. that little man is dead now, quite dead. you would not like to be like that, would you? well, you are going to get a lot of money, and go free, so you can have a nice time spending it. come," he said in a level, patient tone. "speak!" asa's pale, terrified eyes were fixed on his tormentor, but still he was silent. the wolf took a twenty-dollar gold piece from his pocket and laid it on the table before the boy. "twenty dollars in gold," he said. he took other pieces like it from his pocket and piled them up. "wealth!"' he almost whispered. "did you ever have as much money as that?" asa shook his head. the wolf leaned confidentially forward. "now tell me all about everything," he said coaxingly. he studied asa. asa studied him in return. like a fascinated bird staring at a snake, he looked at the cold, glittering eyes, the browned face, the sear on the cheek. as he looked, the sear slowly turned white. it gave the effect of its springing out into plain sight. he looked carefully all over the wolf. it was as though he wanted to remember every little detail. the wolf smiled. "curious about me, are you?" he said with a snarl, his smile fading away. "well, if you won't speak, then i will have to talk. now i want to know just who is tracking me, and just how much they think they know about me. and you are going to tell me everything." asa woke up. it felt to the tortured boy as though some cord in his heart or soul suddenly snapped and left him free. asa, who had been always afraid to speak, was afraid no longer. asa, who found speech difficult, spoke rapidly and violently. "no, i ain't," he shrilled. "i ain't goin' to tell a word about nuthin'. and when i get out of here, i'm goin' to tell the first policeman i see about that little thin man you stuck the knife into. and i ain't afraid of you. not a mite! i don't care what you do to me, i ain't goin' to tell!" the scar stood out white as chalk. "no?" said the wolf. he took another drink, then with a sudden motion hurled asa back in his chair and tied him there. round and round the thin figure he twisted the rope, until asa could not move a muscle. the wolf propped the boy's feet up on a box, and took off his shoes. asa watched him curiously. he remembered the wild indian stories he had read. was this going to be a trial by fire, he wondered. the wolf lighted a huge cigar and smoked it until the end glowed red. then he drew his chair close to asa's feet. he showed him the cigar. "that would hurt on your bare feet, wouldn't?" he asked silkily. "so much pain--and all because you want to be stubborn! well, i have taught stubborn boys--and men--many times many times! so you had better tell me who suspects the wolf." a sound at the door caused him to turn. ledermann entered. "what's this, excellency?" asked ledermann. "whom have we here?" "a stubborn little boy," said the wolf. "a stubborn little boy, who is going to think better of his course of action in just a few minutes, and who is then going to tell me ever so many things that i want to know." asa stared at the wolf's wicked eyes and shivered. the wolf turned away. "what news to-night, ledermann?" he asked. "adolph is dead for one thing," said ledermann coolly. "he had one of his convulsions on the street, and it finished him." "we were about through with him," said the wolf heartlessly. he dismissed the subject. "what else?" he demanded. "i have all the papers," answered ledermann. "and as i could not get here until dark, i took a room in a safe little hotel where i would be undisturbed, and i made the copy for you." he handed over a tiny square of paper. the wolf carefully unfolded it. then he laughed gleefully. "fine; fine, ledermann! this finishes our work." he crossed his leg over his knee, took a peculiar looking wrench from his pocket, fitted it round the heel of his shoe, and turned it. the other man caught his arm, and spoke rapidly in german. "what possesses you, excellency; are you mad? this boy--" "bah! what does it matter whether i finish him now or an hour later?" he asked. "we can't let him go. i was obliged to punish the weasel to-night and he saw it. it seemed to affect him unpleasantly. these american children know nothing of the value of discipline. he is going to tell me all he knows before i finish. the little rat--think of him defying me!" the heel came off. asa looked curiously. it was hollow and was neatly packed with papers like the one in the wolf's hand. the wolf turned out the precious packets, and looked them over carefully. ledermann looked from the wolf intent on his papers, to asa, bound in the chair. he looked at the wolf again. he swayed a little; the drinks had gone to his head just enough to make him unsteady and reckless. he had not intended to take so much; the wolf was always careful; but to-night--well, the day had been a hard one, and the end was so near. for months he had been under a terrific strain--ledermann shook his head. "see how i trust you," said the wolf in english, looking up from his papers, "i know you will never, never tell. oh no, that would be impossible! isn't that a fine little place to hide things?" he chuckled, and replaced the packets, screwed the heel in place, and stamped his foot on the floor. then he turned to his bottle. ledermann had placed it beyond his reach. "give me that!" he demanded violently. ledermann obeyed. the wolf turned to him. "now, ledermann, no fooling here; turn in all your accounts. destroy everything that could give a clew to us. pack the bombs in the vault under the cellar floor. we may come back some day, when we land with our men on the shores of long island." he turned away. "go and pack. we must be away from here before dawn." ledermann shrugged his shoulders, looked curiously at asa, then turned and left the room. the wolf got up, threw a few things in a small suit-case, arranged some papers, took off his coat, and stood looking at asa. directly behind him, against the wall, was a large, old-fashioned wardrobe. its dark, heavy, walnut doors threw the lean, muscular figure of the wolf out as though carved in granite. he took a step toward the boy, and rolled up his sleeves. "now, young man, i'll attend to you," he said. hope died in asa's heart. chapter ix timely aid when the wolf, holding fast to asa's shoulder, slipped into the shadows of the park, beany raced across the asphalt drive and knelt beside the little weasel. he lay a crumpled, limp heap, and at first beany thought him dead. there was a faint flutter, however, as beany felt his heart, and, turning him gently over, beany opened his shirt and uncovered the vicious looking wound where the wolf's dagger point had entered. across the square, an auto stopped, and a familiar figure jumped out and looked around. beany joyfully recognized his friend the sergeant. he knew that they were hidden by the gateway post so he whistled. hen came running toward him. "who's this?" he demanded. "one of them," said beany. he looked anxiously at the weasel's ashen face. "the wolf stabbed him. we have got to get him to a hospital." "i'll get the car," said hen, and was off like a flash. they lifted the weasel into the car and laid him back on the cushions; the boys rolled up the rugs, and their coats to prop him up. again he opened his eyes. "don't start," he said feebly. "i must tell you something." he turned his head toward beany. "i know you," he said. "what made you leave the wolf and the little chap? i saw you tracking them. you ought to have kept right after them." "that was my brother," explained beany. "we look just alike." he kept a careful hand on the wound. "let's get to a hospital," said hen. "don't you move!" commanded the weasel. "if you want to save that kid, the one with the wolf, you have about half an hour to do it in. don't mind me. he has done for me. i knew he'd get me, but i will bite yet. tell him that, will you? tell him the weasel has bitten; bitten to the bone. lift me a little," he asked, then continued brokenly: "the wolf is head of a system of spies in america. they have headquarters in mexico, st. louis and 'frisco, as well as here. the wolf is the head; he is master of them all. i don't know who he is. nobody knows. they all call him excellency or the wolf. he has a submarine-base laid out on the coast of long island. there is a powerful wireless station in the attic of the house where we meet. that's where he has gone with that kid. he'll kill that kid. i know him! he is all ready to leave the country. that's why he did for me. he wants to shut us all up before he leaves--i'll fix him--i told him i'd bite." he stopped, and breathed heavily. "i'm going to drive lickity-split for the hospital," said hen in a low tone to beany. "don't you stir!" commanded the weak voice. "when you get to the house, go around back, and through the yard to the next house. there is an outside iron fire-escape on it. go up that to the level of the roof of the corner house. it is a story lower than the house that has the fire-escape. there is a trap door in the middle of the roof. lift that, and climb down the ladder into the attic. the wireless is there. if there is a man there working the wireless, shoot him. he will shoot you if he can. got a revolver?" "no," said beany. "yes," said hen at the same time. "there are some stairs going down from the attic," continued the weasel, his voice very weak. "don't go down that way. look in the end of the attic close to the big chimney. there is a pile of doors and lumber there, and behind it is a narrow stair. go down that. it opens into a wardrobe in the wolf's own den. you will find him there with the kid, if he is still alive. take the wolf anyhow. don't kill him. i want him to know that i bit--" his voice trailed off. "would hot coffee help any?" asked hen. "i have a thermos bottle full; but it's under that seat he's on." together they gently lifted the body of the weasel, and succeeded in getting hold of the bottle of hot coffee. hen poured a steaming portion into the cup, and with difficulty they forced it between the weasel's lips. he swallowed a little, and presently opened his eyes. "close call," he said with a faint smile. he hurried on: "the wolf has enough information written down, up there somewhere, to defeat america," he said. "i don't know where it is, but it must be somewhere, where he can put his hand right on it. search everything! try every piece of blank paper for sympathetic ink. there is a secret room in the cellar full of bombs. they are to be left there, stored, until america is invaded. if you could only work that wireless--messages are coming in all the time the last three days--"' "i can," said beany. "then you will get some news sure. do you speak german?" "no," said beany hopelessly. "i do," said hen. "all right," said the weasel feebly. "remember, if he man is there, shoot to kill--shoot to kill!" "i'd like to get the police," said beany. "they are sort of used to this." "you will not save the kid," said the weasel. "the wolf will kill him at the first alarm. you can't make a sound. when you get down in the wardrobe, you will find a nail hole in the upper corner of the right hand door. i put that there, so i could watch the wolf. i have meant to bite for a long while--" he trailed off, and nearly became unconscious. then he gathered himself together. "tell him i bit." "say!" said hen suddenly. he put his face close to the drooping face of the weasel. "say, where's the house? you haven't told us where to go. we got to get a move on, i should say!" "the house--the house," he said. "it's number,--it's corner of-- it's number three hundred and one--" "gosh, this is awful!" said hen. "come, try to tell us! three hundred and one--what?" the weasel made a mighty effort. "number three hundred and one--" his voice trailed off into silence. "he's dead," said beany. "what shall we do?" said hen. "he's not dead, but pretty close to it. we will have to get him to a hospital, and wait for him to give the street that house is on. that means the kid will be murdered before that time, i suppose. gee, it's awful." a taxi rounded the square, and stopped close to them. the driver got out. "it's him!" said hen. "i know that fellow." as the driver walked toward them, he recognized hen. "hullo!" he said. "what's new?" "look here," said hen. "we got to get this man to the hospital. a fellow came along and did for him." "great scott!" said the driver, peering into the taxi, where the electric light shone on the huddled figure in beany's arms. a slight, boyish figure came running along the walk. it was porky, out of breath, and excited. "i thought you would have him safe in a hospital," he complained. "he wouldn't let us," said hen. "say, i guess there's, no hope of saving that kid! this feller here told us all about everything, and how to got into the place and all, and then he fainted before he could tell where the house is." "i know," said porky. "i trailed them there. we will get this chap to a hospital, and get the police, and get the wolf." "get nothing!" said hen. he turned to the other driver. "hop in here, and take this man to the nearest hospital. say you picked him up in the park. they will arrest you probably, but we got something to do and it won't wait. that on! if they jug you, get word to mr. leffingwell." porky gave the address. hen reached under the seat and from a hidden pocket brought out a small, wicked-looking revolver. "i will take your car," he said. he raced over, and started the engine. the boys followed, and tumbled in. "hi! hi!" yelled jim morris, the taxicab driver. "what you doin'? you crazy! what do you want me to do?" "get that fellow into a doctor's hands quick as you can," said hen. "then what?" demanded jim. "you say tell mr. leffingwell. what am i to tell him? of all the boneheads! what steer do i give him? hey?" "bully for you!" said porky, swinging out the door. "tell mr. leffingwell we are on track of the wolf. remember the name. the wolf. don't say it to any one before you tell mr. leffingwell or you will be sorry for yourself. ask him to get the secret service men, and call the police force and come to this address." he scribbled a street and number on a piece of paper. "say, why don't one of youse boys come and tell this yarn? i can see where i'm the goat!" "never mind!" cried porky. "we'll be along some time or other, and bail you out." hen's mouth thinned down to a straight line as he started the car. "not too fast!" said porky. "it is not far." he repeated the street and number. hen made a quick turn and glided smoothly across a side street. beany, looking behind, saw jim morris give a look after them, then start his car and dash off, the insensible figure of the weasel swaying on the back seat. he drove to the nearest hospital without the loss of a single moment's time. round the monstrous building, with it's spreading maze of pavilions, he went through a court, and stopped at a doorway which opened directly on a large elevator. he pressed a button, and a white-clad attendant appeared. "drunk?" he asked. "stuck!" said jim briefly. "stabbed?" asked the attendant. "'s what i said," retorted jim, and almost before he could realize it, the unconscious weasel, the attendant and himself were being smoothly carried to the emergency ward, far above. the attendant motioned to jim, and they went silently into an office where another man, also in while, sat at a desk, and took down in a big book the circumstances of the weasel's arrival. he finished, then jim saw him reach under the desk and press a button. immediately the door opened, and a couple of heavily built men in plain blue uniforms entered. they read the entry in the big book, then looked searchingly at jim. "you are detained, morris," said the taller of the two, "pending an examination into this affair." he took up the house telephone. presently he turned. "the man is very badly hurt; perhaps dying. he is unconscious." he nodded to jim. "come along," he said. "i'll have to keep you here awhile." "that's all right," jim said airily. "i wish i could send a telephone message. don't see what harm there is in that." "no, there's no harm in that," said the detective, "providing the person you wish to talk to is a decent sort." "it's leffingwell--leffingwell who is chairman of all the city committees," said jim proudly. "look up his number yourself." the detective did so. jim called and began speaking. "say, is this mr. leffingwell?" he asked. "no, i don't want no timmons. i want mr. leffingwell." jim smiled wickedly into the receiver. "well, say, young feller, i'm surprised you don't know me. this is j. p. morgan speaking'. i want sell--huh? oh, y-y-yes, sir. why, yes, sir, mr. leffingwell. i thought i was talking to some fresh guy on the phone. excuse me, sir! yes, sir! i have news for you. i'm here at the park hospital with a fare what got stabbed. no, sir, it's not a boy. he's a little thin man. i know where the boys is, and they want help. yes, sir! my car is right here, but i'm been' detained. yes, sir, they won't let me go 'til the young feller gets better or croaks." the detective cut in. "does he want you to come there?" "he sure does that!" said jim. the detective took the receiver. he told mr. leffingwell the circumstances. he listened attentively. then "yes, sir," he said. "i will come right over with him." chapter x by way of the house next door the boys will never know how long it took to drive to the street and number given them by the poor weasel. arriving at the corner where the old brown stone house stood looking the picture of desolation, with its closely boarded-up windows, its dusty steps and seedy doors, the boys passed down the side street and left the car in the shadow of the buildings there. they separated and hurried back to the house, one at a time. slipping through the dense shadows in the weedy, cluttered-up back yard, a yard that had once been a trim garden with smooth paths and neat little hedges, as back yards were once in the olden days, they met under the iron fire-escape attached to the house next door. this building, much higher than the corner house, was used as a private sanitarium or hospital by one of the highest-priced specialists in the city. the fire-escape, therefore, was in perfect condition, and safe as such a spidery stairway could be made, with strong rails and good treads. porky whispered a word of command, and noiselessly the boys ascended. the night was pitch dark, but their eyes growing accustomed to the gloom, they made their way without a stumble. reaching the place where the lower building met the taller one, they found they could not get from the stairway to the other roof. there was nothing for it but to go on up the remaining story, cross the roof of the building and drop down to the lower level. they tiptoed over the flat, pebbled roof, clung to the eaves, and one by one made the long drop in safety, the only damage being scratched and bruised palms as they sprawled on the rough roofing. a glass skylight was set in the middle of the roof. they hurried to it and hen, with a quick twist, worked it loose, and tipped it noiselessly back on the roof. "take off your shoes!" he whispered. they felt their way down the rough ladder that led from the skylight to the attic, and stood motionless, scarcely breathing in the dense darkness. hen, who had the flashlight, feared to press the button. there was not a sound, save a little sputter which they rightly laid to the wireless machine which the weasel had told them about. in a moment, (it seemed years) hen decided that they must have light, even at the risk of discovery, and his flashlight illumined the room in which they stood. immediately porky pointed to the big chimney, and the pile of lumber stacked beside it. he touched the others, and led the way. they went noiselessly across the uneven floor, and reaching the boards, found, as the weasel had said, a narrow opening in the floor. as the three neared the bottom of the ladder, a scream, muffled and choked but full of agony, sounded close to them. the boys recognized that thin, boyish tone, even in its torture. they felt their hair rise on their scalps as they listened. quickly turning in the narrow, breathless space in which they found themselves, they saw a little star of light pierce the pitch blackness. it was the little peek hole made in the panel by the weasel. porky put his eye to the place. one instant he looked, and drew back as hen pressed close. in turn they peered through the tiny hole. they shuddered as they did so. then hen, with all the caution he could summon, pushed open the door, and stepped out, covering the wolf with a wicked-looking muzzle. the bound and gagged boy in the chair saw the strange group which had so suddenly and so mysteriously appeared, but for a moment the wolf, who was standing with his back toward the wardrobe, was unaware of their presence. he was laughing--a cold-blooded, curdling, low laugh as he stooped toward the boy's bare feet, his lighted cigar in his hand. already those feet were marred by cruel burns along the tender soles. as he stopped, he watched his victim's eyes for a sign of surrender. "give me the names!" he demanded in his low snarling, smooth voice. he watched his victim's eyes and in them, suddenly, he saw a strange flash of hope, of amazement. asa was looking over the wolf's shoulder. without the least suspicion of the truth, the wolf straightened up, and lazily turned. what lie saw wiped the sneering, malicious smile from his face. hen, his bulldog jaw set, held the revolver pointed straight at the traitorous heart. "hands up," barked porky in a voice which seemed to come from some one else. he was not himself. the sight that had met his eyes, the bound figure, the blistered feet, the crouching wolf with his low, fiendish laugh--it was all like a frightful electric shock to porky, and in that horrible instant he came into his manhood. behind him, at his shoulder, his twin brother went through the same agony of soul and he, too, felt a strange new thrill, an addition of courage and strength. "hands up!" said porky again. for a moment the sly eyes of the wolf swept the room, then his hands were raised. he backed toward the table but a curt order from hen, and he stood still. "there's rope on that table," said hen. "get it and bind him." beany grabbed the rope, and bent to tie the ankles of the wolf. like a flash his hands came down, he seized the boy and clutching him in a vise-like grip, held him before him as a shield. "shoot if you like," he sneered, and backed rapidly toward the door. hen followed, the useless pistol still pointed, but beany's body covered the wolf who, with the strength of ten, held beany before him as he neared the door that would mean escape, and safety. he had almost reached it when a deafening noise sounded from below. there was the sound of a door being battered in, shots were fired, and shouts heard. for a second the wolf faltered. for a second he was off his guard. in that second, beany made a light, steel-muscled bound, swung his legs up and out, using the spy's breast as a brace, turned a somersault over his head, dropping to the floor behind him. it was so quick, so unexpected, that the wolf could not keep his hold, and beany dropped to the floor, crying, "shoot!" a revolver cracked, but it was in the wolf's hand. porky felt a sting as the bullet grazed his shoulder. then hen's weapon barked just once! the revolver dropped from the wolf's hand, a strange, blank look spread over his face, and he sank to his knees. beany, flat on the floor behind him, jumped to his feet. the door, which had been unlatched, swung violently open and for a second the face of ledermann appeared, then flashed by as he saw the tableau, and dashed for the stairway to the attic and the roof. a dozen policemen ran in, three of them following ledermann, at porky's direction, while the others snapped the cuffs on the two men at the table, and tenderly took the cruel gag from asa's parched and bleeding mouth, and untied him. beany rushed up into the attic after the men who were pursuing ledermann and as he reached the place, the call of the wireless caught his attention. he answered the call, and commenced to take down a long message. below, porky and hen knelt by the wolf and turned him over. he still breathed, and hen fumbled through his pockets for another revolver. he found instead a long, keen knife which he threw aside. then, with porky, he fell to watching the closed eyes of the spy. they opened, and the wolf looked from one to the other with cold, unrelenting hatred. he did not speak. "buck up!" said hen suddenly. his voice shook with excitement. "say, you don't want to croak yet. i got to tell you: the weasel said to tell you that he had bit. understand? he has bit. see?" hen paused with a look of satisfaction. the wolf, who was bleeding fearfully, slowly closed his eyes. "that ends him," said hen solemnly. "gosh!" a detective felt the heart of the wounded man. "he's alive," he said. "send an ambulance call, somebody." another detective raced down the stairs, while those who remained commenced to search the room for hiding places. "i know where he's got some stuff hidden," asa said thickly. "take off his shoe; the other one," and someone did so. "get that iron thing on the table," asa continued, "and get the heel off." the chief had it done in a moment and the tiny squares of paper fluttered to the floor. the chief picked them carefully up, and put them in his pocketbook as a wild clanging down below announced the coming of the ambulance. a couple of doctors came up, three steps at a time, and examined the wolf. a bandage soon stopped the flow of blood, and, still unconscious, he was carried down the stairs. a detective picked asa up and prepared to follow, but that young man stiffened, the way a spunky boy sometimes does, and slid through the man's arms. as he came to his feet, he let out a howl of pain, and went to his knees. but he was speaking. "not with him!" he cried hoarsely. "not with him! i won't go in the ambulance with the wolf! he'll come to yet and kill somebody, and he'll blame me for the whole thing. i'd rather stay here." "all right," said the chief. "you need not go in the ambulance. i will carry you down to the police car, and we will take you right over to mr. leffingwell's." he picked asa up in his arms and carried him downstairs and into the first car. there was quite a procession of them when they finally started, after leaving a heavy guard in the house, and very soon they pressed the button at mr. leffingwell's door, which was opened by barton, the butler. "'ow! bless my 'art!" said barton, quite like a human being, and stepped back. it was timmins who stepped forward; timmins who took asa and bore him into the living room where colonel bright, mr. leffingwell, john, his son, and mr. and mrs. potter all rose to their feet, when timmins walked in. mr. leffingwell would have another doctor; and while they waited five minutes for him (he was right in the building) asa, suffering pretty badly, but not giving a sign of it, except for his twitching face, lay on the settee, with timmins fixing his pillows some other way every second, and barton off ordering a hot drink from the cook, who had taken a peek, and was crying out in the kitchen. nobody knew anything about what the boys had been through, but nobody asked a word; only porky and beany kissed their mother hard, and hugged their dad, and were pounded on the back by mr. leffingwell, who seemed to have a bad cold. when the doctor came, he ordered asa straight to bed, and timmins carried him off with the haughty barton stalking in the rear, a glass of egg and milk in one hand and hot chocolate in the other. chapter xi ordered over there the leffingwell cook had prepared a regular crackerjack--no, a leffingwell dinner; and mr. leffingwell begged the boys to say little about their adventures until they had had something to eat. as they all sat down at the table, porky and beany looked back over the couple of centuries or so that had passed since breakfast, and decided that since they had not had time for anything at all since that remote period, it would be a good thing to sample a few of the good things urged upon them by barton, the butler. presently, that is along about the third helping of everything there was, the boys commented to tell about their day's adventures. they had an attentive audience; an audience that forgot to eat or say "dear me suz!" or smoke. and it seemed as though they wanted to hear everything over at least three times. and the boys were willing to tell. before the meal was finished, the doctor came quietly in. he had been to look at asa and, finding him asleep under the effects of the quieting tablet he had given him, he came to report to mr. leffingwell that his young guest was doing well. "it won't lame him permanently, will it?" asked colonel bright. "no, no danger of that unless there should be some infection, and i am sure there will be nothing of the sort. i wonder, mr. leffingwell, if it is possible to keep the boy here for a few days or a week? i hate to have him moved. your man timmins says he was talking about going to his home to-morrow. "well, i should say not!" exploded mr. leffingwell. "where is timmins anyhow!" "sitting beside asa," said the doctor. "shall i call him?" he tiptoed back to the boy's room, and in a moment returned, followed by timmins, who stood just inside the doorway and looked inquiringly at mr. leffingwell. "what's this, timmins, about asa's going home to-morrow? you get those fool notions out of asa's head, and, timmins, we will appoint you head nurse for a while. the lad seems to like you." timmins smiled and bowed. "yes, sir! thank you, sir!" he said. and at that moment the ice-cream came in. that leffingwell cook! the ice-cream was in the shape of little tents, with a silk flag sticking gayly out of the ridge pole of each. the boys noted with satisfaction that the tents were good-sized. they gave their whole attention to the work in hand, and the others seemed secretly to agree to put aside the day's excitements for a space. after dinner they followed mr. leffingwell to his den, where mrs. potter took out her knitting. she had a very large knitting bag, and it seemed full of balls of wool. colonel bright noticed it. "looks as though you were going into the knitting game wholesale." mrs. potter smiled. "not quite," she said. "i am making two complete sets for a couple of young men who are going into the service." porky felt of the soft, light yarn. "i say--that's pretty good of you, mom. who are your lucky friends?" "that reminds me of something," said the colonel. "i know a couple of lads, about like porky and beany here, who have been crazy to go across. i have been watching them for some time, and have about made up my mind that they would be a real help to me over there, and not a hindrance. so i have been pulling wires, and making plans, and i think it looks as though i can take them with me. it's just about the job you boys were joking about wanting." "no joke at all!" said porky bitterly. "oh, gee; now some one else has it!" "why, you don't mean that you really meant it?" said the colonel. "i wish you had made it clear!" "we couldn't have tried harder to make it clear unless we had hit you, colonel," said beany sadly. "well, that's too bad," said the colonel. "these fellows are just about your age. perhaps they seem older to me because they have had a lot of responsibility that has made them older. it's too bad." "never mind, colonel," said porky. "if the other fellows have fallen in luck, why, it's great for them. what, are you planning for them?" "it's like this," said colonel bright, squinting up his eye as he puffed busily on his cigar. "there's a lot of most important running around to do behind the lines in what is really a zone of safety: messages, and plans, and all that sort of thing, you understand, that have to be taken from one officer to another, and it seemed to me that it was better to have some one who knew that that was his whole job, and could give every minute to it, rather than depend on petty officers who were continually being ordered away. i thought it would save a lot of time and anxiety if i could have aides that were trained to just the service i required. so i reported the case to some of the big fellows in washington, and they told me to go ahead. you see i've been in this army of ours so long that i suppose i have a sort of pull. well, at any rate, that's how it is." "and the fellows are going over with you?" asked porky. "it has the sort of look as though i was going with them, as it stands now. of course orders are secret; but i would not be surprised if my men packed off in about a week. i have work in washington, however, that may keep me there for another week at least, so i am to go over on a regular passenger boat, and the chaps i have spoken of will go with me." "gosh! what luck!" said beany, looking at his brother. "are they brothers?" "they are related some way," said the colonel, smoking at his cigar. "gosh! what luck!" said porky, looking at beany. "always something to take the joy out of life!" "you ought to be glad for 'em," said mrs. potter. "i declare, boys, i didn't know as there was a jealous hair in both your heads! how you do talk!" "that's all right, mom," said porky. "we are not jealous; only it was just exactly what we wanted to do, and it's a sort of jolt. is that who the sweaters are for, mom?" "yes, i thought i might as well," said mrs. potter. she glanced at the colonel. he was looking at his cigar. mr. leffingwell was staring at the ceiling. she glanced at mr. potter. his right eyelid quivered. "yes," said mrs. potter, "colonel bright thought they might like to have them." she smiled at porky and beany--strange, soft, tender, sad, wonderful smile. "come, see if they are going to fit," she said. mr. leffingwell blew his nose. all the while that the preparations for the boys' journey went swiftly on, time, pain-filled and gloomy, dragged itself away in the two hospital rooms where the wolf and the weasel lay wounded. by carefully questioning his nurse, the wolf, who was not so badly hurt as it was at first thought, found out that the weasel was his next door neighbor. that question settled, the wolf settled himself to the task of getting well. in a few days to the amazement of those attending him, he was able to sit up. they commenced leaving him alone for an hour or so at a time. two days more, wrapped in a heavy bathrobe, he was lifted into a reclining chair, and allowed to look out of the window. how could the nurse guess that the moment she left, her helpless patient rose to his feet and falteringly at first, moved here and there about the room, stopping every moment or two to rest? when she returned she found him quietly seated, resting, as she had left him. he did indeed look tired and pale, so she hurried him back to bed. the next day and the next this was repeated. then came his chance. his nurse was going to a lecture in the assembly room on the first floor. she would be gone a couple of hours. she placed the wolf in his chair by the window, looked at his bandages, set a bell beside him, and left a pile of magazines on the wide window sill at his elbow. then, with repeated warnings to rest and not overdo, she left him. as soon as he heard the last light pad-pad of the girl's rubber-heeled shoes, the wolf stood up. he stood firmly. he tied the bathrobe about him and went to the door. there he waited, listening. all was quiet. he opened the door a little. as he did so, a nurse and a doctor came out of the weasel's room, went slowly down the ball, and turned into a room at the corner. the wolf listened more intently still, and went out into the hall. between the room occupied by the wolf and the one where the weasel lay, there was a space. a table and a chair stood there. it was where the night nurse sat. on it was a writing tablet, pens, ink, and a couple of little bottles. one of them caught the eye of the wolf. the blue color of the glass told him that it was a deadly poison even before lie read the label. he put it in his pocket. then he gently turned the handle of the door, and went in. for a moment he thought the room was empty. the shade at the window was drawn closed. the wolf swept the room with a swift glance then his eyes rested on the bed. ah! did you start then, ever so slightly, you cruel killer, you merciless destroyer? what good now is the blue vial in your pocket? of what use the clenched fist, and writhing, clutching fingers? you have come too late, wolf; you have lost your poor too! look and look and look again at that peaceful bed. see how straight the sheet is and how decently it is drawn up. go over, wolf, and draw it down and see what it covers! hurry, wolf, because you have but little time to remain undisturbed! already the nurse and doctor have finished making their report; already a narrow, white stretcher is being prepared. for the last time in all your wicked life, black murder filled your heart, wolf, but the weasel has escaped you. the wolf put the sheet back over the dead face of the weasel and grating his teeth, stepped softly to the door. he slipped into the hall, but as he did so, he heard low voices, and instead of turning toward his own room, he went in the opposite direction where he saw a stairway. unfortunately for him, the stairs led up instead of down. slowly, silently, he climbed them; but not before he thought he heard a low exclamation from below. for some unforeseen reason the nurse and doctor had looked in the wolf's room to see how he was getting on. the room of course was empty, and the wolf knew a search would begin at once. how he cursed his fate that he was dressed only in his underwear and bathrobe! it would take a clever man indeed to escape in such garments. and escape he must. the weasel was dead. he had killed him, and no one knew better than the wolf that he would be made to pay the whole penalty. adolph was dead, the weasel was dead, ledermann had jumped into the river to escape his pursuers and had drowned. and here was he, the wolf, trapped-at bay. he slipped into the first door at hand. it was a large hall used for a gymnasium for the nurses. there were steps at the door. he looked about. there was not a place to hide. hurrying to the window as fast as his feeble strength would permit, he raised the sash and looked out. there, outside the window, was a fire-escape. without an instant's hesitation, he stepped out and placed his slippered foot on the narrow tread of the iron ladder. his head was swimming from weakness. he heard an exclamation from above and looked up. for an instant he made out the faces of the nurse and doctor against the sky above him. then the nurse disappeared, and the doctor stepped out on the sill. he was going to follow; the nurse had gone for help. there was one thing to do: hurry--hurry! once more the wolf looked up at his pursuer. he laughed his own sneering, cruel laugh. the ladder seemed to swing and sway dizzily. it was like being at the top of a tall mast in a heavy sea. he clutched the ladder. then everything grew dark, guns boomed in his ears, his grasp loosened and the last long night and the last long silence wrapped him like a cloak. the weasel had bitten to the bone. crushed and mangled, they lifted the wolf from the pavement five stories below, and taking him into the hospital once more for a little while, laid him in the chamber of death beside the stretcher where the weasel rested with that new look in his face. but the nurse who had cared for the weasel knew the manner of his going, and rolled his stretcher away across the room. she would not let him lie even in death beside the other. the very next afternoon the telephone rang. mrs. potter and beany and asa listened, while porky said, "yes, sir," a dozen times and "all right, sir," until beany twitched with nervous excitement. when he put up the receiver, everybody said, "well?" at the same time. porky went over and kissed his mother. it was real easy to do, those days. a fellow wanted to kiss his mother. "well?" said everybody again. timmins hovered in the doorway. "to-morrow," said porky with a sort of solemnity. no one spoke. then "what time?" said beany. "six o'clock, morning," answered porky. "you know, mom, there's no chance of our getting hurt," said beany. "how you do talk!" said mrs. potter. she did not look up, however. she was finishing the second sweater, and gave it her whole attention. "naw!" said porky. "not a chance in the world! we will be home before you know it, with a lot of good stories to tell you. perhaps we will bring you some loot. wouldn't you like something to remember the war by?" "just you look out for yourselves," said mrs. potter. "i'd like a couple of boys sent home safe and sound. that's what i'd like to remember things by." she stabbed the needles through her knitting and, rising, left the room. the boys looked after her. beany made a move to follow, but his brother pushed him back. "let her alone," he said. "she likes to be brave." that evening passed like lightning, although all the traps had been ready for days. gladdis, the cook, had baked them a wonderful fruit cake, and mr. leffingwell came home with four new comfort kits and a portable typewriter for each one--a little typewriter that would go in one end of a suit-case. everybody seemed more than happy, quite noisy, in fact. there was not a moment when anybody felt the least bit--the least bit-- well, you know! that is, not a moment except just at bedtime. then mrs. potter came into the boys' room, and gave them each a little, thin package. she just handed it to them and kissed them goodnight, and went out. "let's see what they are," said porky. there were two little leather cases. inside were mom potter's pretty, motherly dear face, and pop's splendid, homely countenance. porky jerked out the light. the following morning, mr. leffingwell's car, crowded with the whole family, was the first to arrive at the station. the potter boys wandered restlessly about until colonel bright, followed by his wife and daughter and a japanese house-man loaded with rugs and bags, came breezing in with a hearty greeting for everybody. mr. leffingwell bustled about, tipping everybody he could find to tip. timmins and the elevator boy took asa out on the platform and sat him on a truck where he could see everybody the very last minute. and all at once it was the very last minute; and somehow everybody had shaken hands and had talked loudly, and the boys had kissed their mother--a kiss to be remembered, and had swung on board. the train started. the boys strained for one last look at their parents. they thought they smiled. asa turned to timmins. "gee, the light hurts a feller's eyes," he said. chapter xii sunday at sea it seemed to the boys as though they could never tire of the novelty and charm of the open sea. by sunday they had explored the perfect little ship firefly from stem to stern. they had made friends with every man on board and were in the way of accumulating a strange assortment of facts from their new friends. sunday services, read by the grizzled old captain, seemed very solemn and strangely touching. they were held on deck, where the rattling of shrouds and the soft lap of the water made a wonderful accompaniment to the familiar words of the prayer book. the boys could not help noticing that every man listened closely and respectfully. they joined in the responses, and sang lustily when it came time for the hymns. the captain did not read a sermon. instead he closed the book, and for a short five minutes spoke to the men simply, clearly, and to the point. then there was one more song. services do not usually end with it; but as the sound rose, the boys thrilled and chilled with patriotism. it was "my country, 'tis of thee" and those men roared it from the depths of their big, honest, loyal hearts. when the group scattered, porky and beany went forward and stood looking into the distance that bid their great adventure. that the adventure was at that moment approaching, drawing nearer and nearer, they did not dream. the sea looked too calm, too serene, to hide such a terror. they were talking about the safe and quiet crossing they were having when colonel bright approached. "what now, my gay young buccaneer?" he asked, stopping and lighting a cigar. "we were saying what a good old safe trip we are having," said porky. the colonel frowned. "better say that after we arrive," he said, puffing hard. "oh, i'm not afraid!" said porky. "nor me!" added beany. "i know you are not," said the colonel. "but there is one thing i always remind my men of. that is this: never be afraid but never fail to be careful. you would be a fool to take a chance with a mad dog, wouldn't you? well, your enemy is a mad dog or worse, every time, whether he is trying to get your reputation or your life. you never want to take chances. watch him. sleep with one eye open. listen to every breath of wind. watch, and watch eternally. you are only safe when he is dead, or disarmed and in prison. and never belittle your enemy. better think of him as bigger than he is, cleverer, and more cunning. when you belittle his strength you give him the advantage because you will not fight so hard. and don't take chances." "no, sir," said porky. "another thing," said the colonel. "we are not in the danger zone yet. when we reach that, you will see our captain taking all the precautions that can possibly be taken. understand we do not anticipate trouble. this is such a small boat that i scarcely think the germans would bother with it. at the same time, if by any chance they have found out that we are crossing with important papers, agreements, and chemicals, they will be on the lookout for us and we will have a good chase if we manage to escape. i don't say this to scare you boys; but you are here, and i don't want you to underrate the present danger. i will be good and glad to get across myself. not a word of this to the others, understand." he nodded and walked on. the boys looked at each other. "wow!" said porky softly. for awhile the boys stared out over the sea. "time for grub," beany finally said. "hungry? asked beany. "no," said porky. he laughed. "you know what colonel bright's done to me? he's made me imagine things. i thought i saw something over there in the light--way, way off." beany stared. "nothing doing!" he declared. "i could see if it was there, you know." "yes, i know your eyes," said porky nervously. "i saw a gull or a porpoise, i suppose." "i suppose you didn't see anything," said beany, scanning the level sea. "come on down to dinner." "all right," agreed porky. he turned from the rail with a last glance seaward. he seized his brother and whirled him about. "look! look!" he cried. "there it is again, straight ahead! what's that?" beany's keen eyes swept the sea in a lightning glance. then lie dashed for the companionway and fairly fell into the presence of the captain. "a periscope! a periscope!" he gasped. in another instant the captain was on the bridge, the glasses at his eyes. he commenced rapping out short orders. the boys, watching breathlessly, saw the guns trained on the little periscope which, like the reared head of a poisonous snake, came darting at them with a swiftness which seemed incredible. then everything seemed to, happen at once. the little racer on whose throbbing deck they stood swerved like a frightened colt. her guns spoke together; and at the same time something slim and long cut cleanly through the water and passed by, missing the firefly's side so narrowly that the boys felt their knees weaken under them. the periscope shook as the guns volleyed again, wavered uncertainly, and sank from sight. "we hit her!" said beany at the rail. the firefly, with every ounce of steam on, dashed ahead, doubling here and there and darting about like a frightened hare. a spot of oil appeared on the water. "something wrong," said porky; "but you can bet we are slated to get right out of the immediate vicinity of here at our earliest convenience!" the captain, on the bridge, was talking earnestly with colonel, bright and the other officers. every face held a look of almost incredulous relief. the gunners stood close to their steel charges, every man ready for instant action. the firefly raced ahead, on and on. no one thought of the interrupted meal. no one thought of anything but the danger so narrowly passed. they were still far away from the danger zone. it had been a most unexpected attack. no one noticed when the sun went down or when dusk fell. not until darkness wholly hid the sea did they turn from their sea-wide search for approaching danger. then the captain came down from the bridge and approached the boys. "how did you happen to discover the periscope before the lookout did?" he asked. porky spoke for his brother. "it's his eyes," he said. "you see, sir, he has what they call abnormal eyesight. he can see farther and clearer than anybody else. he can see in the dark too, nearly as well as by day. so it wasn't the fault of the lookout that beany saw it first. he always sees everything before anybody else gets a chance." "that's odd," mused the captain. "well, young fellow, you saved the ship this time all right. it looks as though you had better be stationed on deck when we reach the danger zone. come down now and get you supper. you never want to go into danger when you are hungry." he slapped beany on the back and passed on. the boys followed, suddenly conscious that they had omitted the important ceremony of dinner, but beany was almost too nervous to eat. he felt as though those keen eyes of his should be on deck. there was a great clatter at the table, the captain alone sitting in his usual serious silence. young cogggins called out, "well, that's over with, anyway! they say lightning never strikes in the same place twice." the captain smiled. "that's true enough," he said, "but for the sake of safety i had better tell you that these submarines nearly always travel in pairs. we are apt to meet the sister u-boat yet." a silence fell. "i don't feel sleepy," murmured young coggins. "wouldn't it be nice to sleep on deck to-night?" "deck for mine!" said porky in a low voice. "i will say i don't get many thrills out of this being cooped downstairs when there are subs all around." "downstairs!" quoted coggins scornfully. "don't let the captain hear you talking about the 'downstairs' of his ship, you landlubber, you!" "well, i don't care what you call it! it's downstairs to me anyhow! and whatever you call it, i don't want to sleep there." "bosh!" said coggins. "i tell you we won't see another sub on the whole trip. do you know the percentage of boats that see subs on their way over?" he launched into a flow of statistics. porky and beany seemed to listen. in fact they were thinking hard. as usual, they thought the same thing, and as they were fully conscious that they were doing so, they found the process as satisfactory as a regular spoken conversation. "me for bed," said coggins finally. "you don't mean bed, do you?" asked porky. "how the captain would feel if he should hear you call his nice berths 'beds!'" "i thought you were coming on deck," said beany. "of course not; that was a joke," said coggins. "good-night then," said the boys. they went up on deck. it was perfectly dark. not even a riding light was shown, and through the darkness at top speed raced the firefly. "sort of thrilling, isn't it?" said porky in a low tone as they leaned over the rail and looked down at the mysterious water below them. "gee, i hope we don't get torpedoed! i worry about the colonel. i don't know how well he can swim, or anything about it. he'd catch cold, too, like as not!" he grinned. "say, do you know what i did back home? i knew you'd laugh if i told you. i bought a couple pounds of--" "chocolate," completed beany. "i did too." "any malted milk tablets?" asked porky. "yep, a couple of bottles." "oh, gee! doesn't it beat anything? i suppose yours are for the colonel in case of shipwreck. just that!" "of course", grinned the other twin. "well, we are well stocked up; and as long as we have done it, let's fix things up in case anything should happen. you know the colonel will think of himself the very last one. and if anything does happen, old chap, just you stick right by the colonel." "you know if there is anything we can do, and do it is swim." the two boys went down to their stateroom, and got out the precious store of chocolates and malted milk. each boy put his share in the oil skin water-tight money belt that had been one of mr. leffingwell's many gifts. their money went easily into a much smaller and less complicated carrier that each boy wore around his neck. then, feeling ready for any emergency, they hurried back to the dark and silent deck. they stayed up until midnight. then the wind started up, increasing in violence until the chilled watchers took refuge below. the boys turned in. it seemed about fifteen minutes when porky sat up. beany was leaning down from the upper berth. "did you call me?" he asked. "no, i thought you called me," said porky. "all right," said beany. he swung to the floor. "hustle and dress. i bet some thing is on foot." he hustled himself into his clothes and was ready as soon as porky, who considered himself the record dresser. together they slipped through the dark passage and went up on deck. the firefly fled like a wild thing, cutting a swift path through a rough and choppy sea. they went forward. motionless, a dark blur against the sky line, they saw the lookout, his eyes searching the waste. scudding clouds were massing in the east. a storm was on the way. the boys walked the length of the steamer and leaned over the stern, where the water boiled furiously away from the propeller. close beside them another watch silently studied the surface of the sea. the night lifted a little. it was nearly dawn. the boys felt depressed. porky turned and studied the sky in the east; beany kept his keen eyes on the water behind the firefly. suddenly be clutched his brother's arm. "see! see!" he cried. "where that patch of white shows! she's coming! look! look!" the glass of the lookout swept the waves. "nothing there," he said gruffly. then with a gasp he cried loudly, "torpedo port; torpedo port!" porky saw a slim, swift something cleaving the water. it made straight for the ship. his reason told him that it would strike; he grasped his brother by the arm. "the colonel!" he cried and made for the cabins below. their hurried descent was broken by a terrific crash which threw them headlong. they scrambled to their feet and, gaining the colonel's door, burst it open. "quick, quick, colonel!" they cried. they bustled him up the companionway. the little firefly had already listed heavily to port when another torpedo struck her with shattering force. she rocked back and forth, striving to right herself. the boats were being lowered. the captain called for the colonel, and insisted on his entering the largest lifeboat. two other boats were already crowded and launched. the firefly settled with a sickening motion. "all off!" cried the captain. he glanced over the deserted ship, and jumped for the boat the colonel was sitting in. as he landed a bulky parcel shot past him, and landed at the colonel's feet. then another bundle sailed accurately through the air. the first was the colonel's uniform; the second, his great top-coat. on the slanting, shivering deck the twins stood looking down, yelling madly. "put on your clothes!" porky was frantically calling. "look in the pockets!" called beany. the captain stood up with a despairing gesture. "jump!" he commanded. the boys nodded, but instead of obeying, they disappeared behind the cabin. for a moment the men rested on their oars, then at a command from the captain they pulled furiously away from the sinking ship which threatened to engulf them as she went down. however, they had gained a safe distance before the doomed vessel, rocking back and forth, gained a dreadful momentum, showed her splintered and shattered hull as if in mute excuse for her action, and disappeared forever in the engulfing sea. the captain stood looking at the place were the vessel had disappeared. colonel bright buried his face in his hands. "gone!" he groaned. "what shall i say to their people?" he choked as he put on the clothes the boys had rescued and thrown after him. he felt in the pocket of the coat as beany had yelled for him to do. it held a water-proof belt stuffed with chocolate and malted milk tablets. again he groaned. "what ailed them? why didn't they jump?" he asked. over and over again he asked the question but there was no one to answer. in the distance the other boats were working toward the east. far the other side of where the doomed boat had gone down, they could see the gray back of the submarine, now lying on the surface. strangely enough, she did not try to pursue or shell them. the men at the oars rowed furiously to escape. the wind rose, and the rain, which had been drizzling down, commenced to fall in torrents. it made a shield as enveloping as a heavy fog. the submarine was not to be seen, and they, of course, were hidden from her. hour after hour the rain fell; and all the men rowed, taking turns at the heavy oars. the colonel sat silent. he could not forget the young gallant pair gone down with the ship, two splendid lives snuffed out in an hour. night came to the drenched, hungry men a time of torture. in the morning, the colonel divided a part of the chocolate, which restored a portion of strength to the rowers. so another day dragged toward its close. the rain had stopped, and a hot sun had dried their clothing. they were beginning to feel the pangs of thirst, but the hoard of chocolate and malted milk tablets mercifully held out. in the far, far distance they could see one of the other boats. the others were gone. where, they could not tell. then at dawn happened the miracle. out of the dusk a big ship seemed to take form. she was miles away, but to their eyes, growing accustomed only to the unrelenting stretch of sea and sky, she seemed to loom over them. as it grew lighter, they could see that she was a huge transport with her convoys about her. carl coggins leaped to a seat, tearing off a silk shirt as he did so. he ran a big oar through the sleeves and waved it wildly. "i have always wanted to do this," he cried. "now you see why i wouldn't wear a service shirt under my tunic!" "wave ahead!" said the colonel. "here's hoping they see you!" the little boatful anxiously watched the great ship and her convoys. would she pause? chapter xiii a submarine flies a flag of truce furiously carl waved his white flag, every eye was fastened on the distant shape. a cry went up from the men in the little boat. "they see us--they see us!" they renewed their rowing with all their remaining strength, as though the great ship laying to in the distance might suddenly start away. but instead they saw a couple of boats put off--motor-boats that cut their way furiously through the water and soon reached them. a word of explanation from the captain of the firefly to the young officer in charge of the motor-boat, and they were taken in tow, while the exhausted oarsmen leaned heavily on their oars, and every heart sent up a prayer of thanksgiving. the transport was the one they had been trying to overtake, and colonel bright's own men met him with cheers and sobs as he was assisted on deck. he and the others were hurried below where they were put under the care of the ship's doctor. a search now began for the remaining boats. it was not until just before dark that the powerful glasses in the hands of one of the lookout men discovered some small specks far to starboard. it was the missing boats. as soon as they, with their loads of suffering men, had been taken on board, the transport and her convoys, wrapped in darkness, plunged forward through the gathering night. they were approaching the danger zone. the following day, the colonel was himself again. he had been too long a soldier to let the loss of the two boys, dear as they were, completely crush him. they were lost; it was the fortune of war. they were lost as thousands of other young, splendid fellows had been lost; and although the colonel could scarcely bear to think of the grief of the poor mother back home when she should learn of the loss of her two idolized sons, he put the picture behind him. here was a transport full of men, his own command largely, and a deep anxiety beset him when he looked over the sea, searching its surface for a glimpse of a telltale periscope. he fell to watching the convoys with their bristling guns and the intricate tackle used in this modern game of war at sea. they looked capable, every inch of them, and deadly in their efficiency. yet occasionally the deadly u-boat claimed one of these as a victim. once more his eyes roved over the big transport. it was packed and jammed with men. they were quartered in every possible place. happy, jolly fellows, full of the finest courage in the world, ready for anything, eager for the next adventure, meeting victory with modesty, accepting disaster with a smile. the rails on each side of the ship were lined with men watching, watching like himself, yet with a difference. the colonel smiled as he guessed the eagerness with which they hoped for a sight of a submarine. not a man of them there wanted to drown, but he wanted to see a sub, and with the hopefulness of his character he felt that the chances were good for getting away before any damage was done. still thinking of the boys he had loved so well, he leaned once more over the rail, his sad blue eyes searching the sea. waves and sky; waves and sky; a gull in the distance but nothing else. for an hour he stood there thinking, forgetful of his promise to go below, staring about, searching the vastness for a sign of the danger that lurked everywhere, the terrible u-boats; but he looked and saw nothing. another night passed but as the day dawned, a sudden warning call sounded through the ship, and peering through his porthole, the colonel saw the long, slim shape of a torpedo whizzing toward the great ship. it was badly aimed and as it passed harmlessly on, a thunder of guns shattered the peace of the morning. the colonel rushed on deck. as he did so, he saw the turret of a u-boat between the transport and her nearest convoy sink out of sight. again the guns spoke as the boat went down. the periscope of the sub wavered and leaned far out of true. another torpedo cut the water and struck the transport a glancing blow, doing but little damage. the two convoys were now busy with another u-boat that had attacked them. one of the convoys, a destroyer of the latest and finest type, threw a smoke screen between the u-boat and the transport, but the u-boat, evidently under orders to get the transport with its crowds of men at any cost, came to the surface in the midst of the smoke and, using the screen to her own advantage, slipped close to the transport. as she did so there was another clamor of guns from both the convoys. the colonel could not see the result of the firing. the guns on the transport were aimed at the nearest u-boat which had come so, close to her intended victim. she lay on the surface, and one torpedo and then another shot from her firing tubes. the fire from the transport missed her again. the torpedoes seemed possessed. instead of holding the straight line that would have doomed the great ship to certain destruction, they skipped here and there. one of them turned and narrowly missed the u-boat which was now apparently making an effort to submerge. so strangely did the boat act that the gunner hesitated as he was about to give the order to fire. no other torpedo was sent out, and the submarine kept to the surface, swinging slowly. "she must be badly crippled," said the captain to colonel bright, who stood beside him on the bridge. he gave the order to an officer to open fire on the boat. as the men leaped to their guns, a strange thing happened. the hatch on the submarine opened, and a man leaped out to the deck. he waved a white flag. "no good!" said the captain. "that's been done before. i won't risk one of my boat crews over there." "you can't shoot at a flag of truce," said the colonel hastily. "you have to in warfare like this," said the captain bitterly. the figure on the u-boat, looking very small in the distance, continued to wave his flag. the captain nodded to the commander of the gun crew on the nearest turret. the gun leaped into position. at that instant the figure on the reeling submarine whipped a small flag from his pocket and flourished it beside the other. the officers and men on board the transport gasped. it was an american flag! yes, there on a german submarine a solitary figure was waving aloft the stars and stripes. the captain uttered an exclamation of amazement, and shook his head at the gun crew. almost at once a couple of motor-boats, filled with armed men, shot from the transport and raced over the rough sea to the rolling sub. "we will soon know what all this is about," said captain greene. "come down while i prepare a wireless." the two captains and the colonel went below, while the men crowded the rail and watched the boats, now at the side of the distant submarine. it was a long time before they started back. the men could see that they were loading the boats with something that looked like rolls of cloth. finally they returned. the officers, coming back to the decks, were greeted by volleys of deafening cheers, boots, calls, laughter. every man who could got near the railing was there. they were packed solidly, looking down at the boats below. those who could not reach a point of vantage swung up on their companions' shoulders. everybody hooted and laughed. presently there was a break in the line, and four strapping sailors made their way through with a burden which they laid none too gently on the deck. another and another, and still they came, until at the captain's feet there was a row of fourteen unconscious figures, wound and strapped with rope until they resembled mummies. captain greene bent closely above the figures. two of them wore the uniform of german officers; but one and all were unconscious, and tightly roped. "what does this mean?" demanded captain greene. he looked up just as a stifled cry came from the captain of the firefly. on the other side of him, colonel bright staggered and would have fallen, had not a friendly hand steadied him. he as well as the captain of the firefly were staring with bulging eyes at the figure that was just emerging from the crowd at the rail. as they stared, apparently unable to speak, another figure joined the first. covered with dirt, unkempt, dressed in what seemed to be cast-off fragments of all the uniforms under the sun, the two figures stood looking around with broad grins, on their pale and smudgy faces. a bloody bandage half hid the face of one of them, the other nursed a hand bundled in rough, soiled cloths. colonel bright tried to speak. words failed him. he gulped feebly, and waved a hand at the apparitions. they stepped forward and wearily saluted. "yes, sir, it's us!" said the scarecrow with the bandage. porky and beany had come back! chapter xiv the twins begin their story with scarcely a look at the still trussed-up figures on the deck, colonel bright rushed forward, and in a second had the two boys in his arms. "please, colonel, can't we go down to your cabin? i rather guess we are all in." porky swayed against the colonel's broad shoulder. the colonel beckoned to a couple of his men who were standing near. they dashed forward, and almost carried the exhausted boys down into the colonel's roomy cabin. "not a word now, boys, until we get you comfortable. are you hungry?" the boys looked at each other. "i guess we are starved," beany managed to pipe in a small voice. captain greene went to the door and gave a quick order. a couple of men got them out of their rags and into fresh pajamas. then a light meal came in. porky heaved a sigh. "i suppose you want to know about it," he said. the colonel looked at him. "no, i don't," he said. "it is enough to get you back. suppose you try to sleep for awhile." porky smiled. "say, colonel, that's good of you!" he said. "we are done up a bit, aren't we, beany?" beany did not reply. he was sound asleep, sitting bolt upright on his locker. "hello there, young fellows," the colonel said cheerily twelve hours later. "how do you feel after your little nap? think you could eat a little something?" "just try us, sir," said porky. "say, colonel, sir, we have a lot to tell you! may we talk while we eat breakfast?" "you certainly may," said the colonel, "but i will have to call captain greene. this is his ship, and he has a right to hear anything you have to tell." captain greene came in; the boys did not notice that a shorthand clerk sat just outside the open door. "well, in the first place, colonel, here are your papers. we went back to get them, and we took them with us all in their oil-silk wrapper, but those fellows over there in the submarine tore the oil-silk up. they took the papers, of course, but i got 'em back when we put the bunch to sleep." "begin at the beginning, please," said captain greene. "and tell me why you didn't jump when i said, 'jump,'" demanded the captain of the firefly. "why, we had to get those papers!" said porky simply. "i don't think that was insubordination. i knew the colonel wanted them. he was so careful of them." "all right," said the colonel. "what happened then?" "why, the firefly rolled around for a minute and then she went down. say, colonel, were you ever on a sinking ship? we got sucked right in with her. i thought we never would come up. i got out first, and i didn't see beany, and gee! i was never so seared in my life. i was just thinking about diving for him when he popped up all out of breath, same as i was. we had to float awhile, we were so used up. then we happened to look up. we hadn't said a word yet, and there was that submarine. it had come up on the other side of us, between us and where the ship had been. so we couldn't get around to where you must have been in the boats. there was a man on the little top deck place, and he had a boat hook, and first i knew he was sticking for me with that boat hook, just as though i was, somebody's hat lost overboard. he didn't care whether he stuck his old hook into a meat boy or not. i saw he wanted us anyhow; so i said, 'come on!' to beany, and swum up the side of the submarine, and clambered onto the little deck, and beany followed. mr. boy-sticker grunted something at us, and shoved us down the little steep ladder, and there we were in the inside of that submarine! "the boy-sticker shoved us over to a table, and there was an officer sitting with a bottle and glass, and a small chunk of a sort of black bread." "that stuff is made of sawdust and oatmeal, i'll bet," said beany. "it was worse than we would give the pigs!" "well," said porky, "we stood where we had been shoved, and pretty soon the officer looked up, and the boy-sticker commenced to talk to him in german. "the officer commenced to look real bright and interested. he said, 'goot! goot!' three or four times, and then he said something to us in german. i shook my head, and he tried french. he said, 'parley voos frongsay?' and i said, 'wee wee!' and beany he butted in and said, 'better not be so fresh with your wees unless he's got a dictionary to lend you,' and the officer jumped and said, 'himmel! where have you come from?' in just as good english as that. we both said syracuse; and he laughed, and said, 'what a small world! why, i went to syracuse university!' "you would never think a guy that had chances in a real country like ours would act like he did. he kept us standing there, and he asked us all about everything back home, and just as we thought he was getting real friendly he said cool as anything, 'we saved you because we are short handed. do as you are told. obey. it's your one chance. we will shoot you, no doubt, when we get to port.' "wasn't that nice and encouraging," asked beany of the attentive audience. "they made us take off all our clothes and put on those old things that had belonged to the two fellows who had died. and then we went to work. well, he set me to fixing up the little bunk place he slept in, when he did sleep. the rest of us just laid down anywhere. there's not a lot of room in a submarine." "yes, and first thing," said beany, "porky was wigwagging me to be careful what i did, and to try to keep the captain from looking." "yes, because what do you think i had found? a wad of papers that looked like plans just lying around on his locker, and a whole row of bottles. medicines i suppose, and one of them said anesthetique, and i made up my mind that was dope." "the next thing happened, he set me to oiling up the torpedoes. gee, it made me so mad to see those great smooth things lying there on their shelves ready to roll into the tubes and be shot at some good american ship! all at once it came to me what to do if i could work it. so i took that knife mr. leffingwell gave me, the one with a whole tool-chest in it, and i opened it behind my hand, and found a dandy screw-driver. then i took a look over the torpedo i was fussing with, and i saw it steered by its tail. i knew it must be carefully adjust, and i sort of memorized where all the screws were." "they can remember anything," said colonel bright to captain greene. "go on!" "well, sir, that night i went to sleep, or pretended to, right under the torpedo shelves, and when i heard everybody snore, i went to work, and twisted all those screws a little." the captain burst out into a roar of laughter. "well, son," cried captain greene, "it certainly worked! could you see the result of your scheme?" "no, sir, we couldn't see a thing. but i thought it must have worked because--well, i felt it must! "then everybody in the boat seemed to be mad at everybody else; and everything they said sounded as though they were threatening each other. once the captain laughed when the boy-sticker man said something to me, and he said, "'do you know what he said?' and i said no; and the captain said, 'well, it's too bad you never learned german! he was telling you just what he intends to do to you as soon as i give him leave. he's a faithful soul, is heinrich, and he wants you for his very own.' "i said, 'well, what you going to do about it? i guess it made me sort of mad to have him sit there and poke fun at me. he looked at me a minute, and then he up and shied his glass at me. it was a big heavy glass, but he was a little full as usual, and didn't aim very well." "it took him on the side of the head, just the same," said beany. "well, anyhow," continued porky, "he looked at me and he said, 'when you speak to me say sir or next time i'll kill you.'" porky grinned. "he looked as though he meant it, too." "you bet he meant it!" said beany. "he was just aching to shoot us through the torpedo tube, the way they always get rid of dead ones. gee, i was scared to death for porky. that captain seemed to pick on porky, and he mixed us so, us looking just alike, that he put a white band around my arm, so he could tell which wasn't porky." "well, i guess you don't want to hear all this junk," said porky. "we want every bit of it," said captain greene. "tell them about the fight they had," said beany, shifting his bandaged hand. "we saw one thing right off," said porky. "the captain was the whole push, just as if he was king. he sat there with a big revolver beside him on the table, and i can tell you he didn't trust his own shadow. the way beany, and i doped it out, he was running in hard luck. he had been sent out to sink a certain number of ships before he could report, and all he had torpedoed was just the firefly. grub was getting low, two of his men were dead, and another one was curled up on the locker sicker than a pup. once in awhile the captain would look at him, and say to us in english, 'about twenty-four hours more, eh? then he goes through the tube.'" "he just didn't have any heart at all," shuddered beany. "of course that was why they didn't kill us; they couldn't run the boat and tend to the torpedoes and the periscope and the engines all at once in a case of a fight, with three men short. and then they had to fight." "tell us about that," said colonel bright. "i don't know when it was," said porky. "night and day was all alike down there, but there was one big yellow-haired fellow that ran the engine. he had been ordered to show me about it; and, say, i will say i can run a submarine now. it was what you call intensive training. when i was slow, he gave me a clip on the head. he could just do anything with machinery. but they certainly have got that submarine engine perfected so it will do everything but talk. any child could run it as soon as he learned the different levers. i don't believe we have anything like it; but we can have now because there's the pattern outside there. you didn't shell it, did you?" "certainly not," said captain greene. "it is in charge of a picked crew of our men right outside." "well, don't let 'em take her down until i get a chance to show them how she works. there is just one lever that controls the diving gear, and that is hidden, so you can't find it if you don't know about it. i came near turning the old thing over. i got beaten up that trip." "get to the fight," said beany. "the engineer was nutty. he talked all the time and muttered to himself, and it got on the captain's nerves or what he had left of them. he stared at the engineer half the time; and that made louie peevish, i suppose. he took it out on me more or less--kept me sweating over that engine every minute he was awake. he wanted a drink too. it was sort of raw the way that captain would sit there and guzzle and never give the others a bit of it. louie would watch and watch and swallow hard; and the captain would watch him back again and grin. they were just like a lot of savage dogs." "well, they didn't have enough to eat, to begin with," said beany, "and then the air was so bad, and they were all cooped up in that little space, and you couldn't hear any outside noises at all. you don't know how funny that is. "they took our watches, so we couldn't tell the time, and, honest, i thought we must have been there a month. and they all knew that something pretty fierce would happen to them it they went back home without sinking the ships that had been required of them. they have it all down to a system. "well, pretty soon louie took to leaving me with the engine, and he would walk back past the captain. he saluted him every time, and he watched that bottle just like a starved dog. and every time the captain would slowly take hold of the bottle and grin. and then louie would walk back again. "then once he went a little too close, and the captain said something in german, and stuck out his foot, and tripped louie up. he fell the length of the apartment; just plunged down because he wasn't expecting it. beany was trying to do something for the sick man on the locker, and i was at the engine. we were sort of out of the way; and it was a lucky thing, because louie went mad then and there, that's all there was to it. i never saw anything so awful, and neither did beany. he didn't look human. he had the bluest eyes you ever saw when he was right, and they turned red as blood. and his face got dead white, and he showed all his teeth like a dog does. he had big yellow teeth with longer ones, like a dog's fangs, at the corners. and say, he was quicker than a cat! the captain didn't have a chance to pull his gun. louie had him by the arms, and was trying to break him in two backward. a couple of other men ran to help the captain, and that louie just kicked out back, and doubled them both up, one after the other, in a corner. nobody else interfered. i suppose louie knew, if he knew anything, that he was a gone goose anyhow, and he wanted to punish the captain. they never said a word. louie had the captain's right wrist in his left hand, so the captain couldn't shoot, and i saw he was trying to twist the captain's right arm so he could break it." "that captain was some quick, too," said beany. "they tripped and fell, and went rolling all over the place. that was when i most tipped the boat over. i forgot my levers, watching them and wondering if we would all get killed before the thing was over. once they broke loose and came up, one each side of the table and the captain leveled his revolver and pulled the trigger but it didn't fire. guess it jammed or something. anyhow, in the second that it refused to work, louie was across the table and at him again. he was sure mad now. there was regular froth at the corners of his mouth, and he reached out as he clinched and clawed the whole side of the captain's face off. gosh! "then all at once the captain got his right arm loose, and he brought round like lightning, and pressed the muzzle of the revolver right against louie's side and bang! off she went. louie never spoke, just grunted, and crumpled down on the floor. the captain looked at him a minute, and then he dropped into a chair himself; and i tell you by that time he looked as though he did need a bracer. he was all in. louie would have killed him sure as sure if he hadn't shot him. "nobody spoke or said anything. the captain sat there a long time, just panting and staring down at louie. then he looked at me, and said, 'he had it coming to him. can you run that engine and not turn turtle?" "and i said, 'sure!' then he said something in german to the men. he talked and talked, but of course we couldn't tell what he said. presently four of them took louie and laid him in the torpedo chute, and there he was; and nobody paid any more attention to him than if he wasn't there at all. gee, it was awful!" chapter xv a spy on board porky rubbed a hand across his eyes, as though to shut out a disagreeable sight. beany shook his head. the boys evidently hated the pictures that memory drew. "let's have the rest of it, boys," said the captain of the firefly. "we may as well have the whole thing at once." "well!" said porky 'sighing, "that's how things went until to-day--or i guess it was yesterday, wasn't it? anyhow, i can't tell just when anything happened. all i know is that everybody was just as though they were strung on wires. "and that captain got uglier and uglier. he talked german to the men, and then he would turn around and speak the best english you ever heard. it seemed awfully funny. he knew a lot of people back home, all the high-brows, and when he got pretty full, he would commence to sing. and say he had that caruso guy lashed to the mast, i bet. he sang love stuff, and sob stuff, and a lot of opera stuff that sounded like gargling. gee, it was great! "then he would make me and beany stand at attention, and he would tell us all about the german army, and how strong it is, and all about their navy, and how we just had to be wiped off the map. the united states, i mean, and he would make us repeat all sorts of statistics about what the germans had won and done." "he said there was one chance in a million of our escaping," said beany, "and he wanted us to have a lot of inside dope to tell our people. of course it was all brag, almost every bit of it. we could see one thing. those fellows were all sore. they didn't know what at, but they were sore just the same. our fellows are never like that." "you bet they are not!" said porky, fondly and proudly. "the difference is plain as the nose on your face. i tell you what i did do; i made some little drawings of some of the things we heard. sort of plans they were talking over. but you can see the submarine yourselves. you say she is safe." "get to what happened this morning--i mean yesterday," said beany. "well," said porky, "first thing we knew, the captain looked through the periscope, and then he turned around and told the others something, and, say, they were pleased to death! you see they wanted to make up their required number of ships torpedoed, and get back to port. the captain called me over, and told me to look, and there you were, way off, but plain. it was not really light. we submerged right away, and the captain told me to fix some coffee. they wanted coffee nineteen times a day or so. i went over to the little corner where they cooked what few things they did cook, and then i happened to think of that bottle. the one with anesthetique on it. that looked near enough to anesthetic to be the same thing; and i wondered what would happen if i dumped some of it in the coffee. i didn't know what it was; but there was a chance anyhow for it to work. it might make 'em sick if nothing else, and i couldn't seem to see them pegging away at one of our ships with one or two or three of those torpedoes, even if i had monkeyed with their tail feathers. "so i tipped the wink to beany to kind of hold the center of the stage, and, say, that was funny! beany braced up to the captain, and saluted and said, 'is it an american ship out there, sir?' and the captain said, 'sure thing, kiddo!' he could talk just like anybody, you know. then beany looked as though he was going to cry; and he said, 'can't you make an exception, capt, let this one go?' the captain thought that was a big joke and pretended to think about it, and finally he said, 'no, i can't see my way clear to do that; but i'll tell you what we will do. we won't leave a single boatful to starve. we will destroy every human-being on the transport and the convoys. i think we will meet a sister u-boat here this morning, and we will have a real good time.' "beany saw i had dumped the stuff in the coffee pot, and he just hung his head and walked off, the captain looking after him and sneering. "gee, i was in a cold chill! i didn't know but the coffee would taste queer, and then they wouldn't drink it, and would kill us besides, before we had a chance to report to anybody. and i didn't dare taste it, for fear it was an instantaneous actor, and would do for me first. so i just passed the cups, and filled them up, and trusted to luck. and every man put his down without a word until it came to the captain and, he said, 'it was worth keeping you for a little while. you make real german coffee, best in the world.' everybody wanted two cups, and it took all there was; and the captain thought that was a scream because there wasn't any left for beany and me. "well, then, we commenced to wait to see what happened. and nothing happened. nothing! the whole shooting match acted peppy. beany whispered to me, 'was it the wrong bottle?' and i didn't know what to think. i guess we came close enough to fire, and as soon as the machinery was ready, they swung a torpedo into the chute right behind that dead sailor, pressed the lever, and the dead man and the torpedo went shooting out together. then they sent out another torpedo; and the captain, at the periscope, commenced to talk in german, and the gunner looked and, say, his eyes bulged! but then something hit us a sort of glancing blow and we submerged right away. and my word! just as we got down there, the captain turned to the man at the steering gear to order him to the surface again i guess, and there he was all doubled over. he was out. "the captain took a couple of steps toward him, and a silly kind of look came into his face, and he just went down in a heap, and in one minute every man was flat on the floor. well, there we were, alone you might say, with that submarine to get to the surface! and what we don't know about those boats would fill a dictionary. "beany said, 'get her up if you can, pork,' and he jumped for some rope, and commenced to tie everybody up. we didn't know how long that anesthetique stuff was apt to work, and we didn't feel like taking any chances. "so beany made a good job of it, and i monkeyed with the steering gear the way they had told me, and the way i had seen, and up she came. beany was just finishing, but i hurried up on deck, and, say, i thought you were going to do for me, anyhow!" porky seemed wholly unconscious of having accomplished anything out of the usual routine. he leaned back. "so that's all there is of that," he said. "when did those fellows wake up?" asked beany, "or did it kill them?" captain greene laughed. "i am sorry you didn't keep the bottle," he said. "your friends are only just now waking up. it is a prolonged process, and rather distressing, i should judge." "i did save the bottle," said porky. "here it is, if you want it. i had to put it in my pocket, because i wanted to get it out of sight as soon as ever i could. "sensible of you," said the captain. "i will have that bottle analyzed if there is anything left in it. there may be a new combination there that will be of value sometimes." "what else happened!" asked the colonel. "not a thing, sir," said porky; "don't see why we are so done up, either. we didn't do much." "it was a slight nervous strain, i think," said the captain, "cooped up there, expecting to be killed." "did he threaten you many times?" asked the colonel. "yes, sir, a lot; but we got so we didn't mind much except the time he did for heinrich. then we sort of felt as though it was getting personal, as you might say. oh, i'm glad to be out of it!" the ship's doctor stepped up to porky and felt his pulse. "just a trifle under par yet," he said, arranging beany's bandages. "i would suggest another nap or two." "all right," said the officers and they moved toward the door. "we aren't sleepy," said porky. "how could we be sleepy at this time of day?" he yawned widely. everybody laughed. "just try it and see what you can do in the way of snoring," said the doctor. "one more good snooze, and you will be ready to bring in another submarine and some more prisoners." he left the room, and in two minutes the boys were both asleep. they were exhausted, with the trying mental exhaustion that people feel who have undergone great anxiety and danger. the two captains and the colonel went into captain greene's cabin and for a long time talked the matter over. they could hear the crew and the soldiers making merry. it had been a great experience; an experience which fortunately had had a good ending. already a lot of the boys were writing highly-colored, lengthy accounts home--accounts which were doomed never to pass the censor! colonel bright was happy as a boy. he chuckled and laughed and patted his friends on the back. he was so glad to have his two boys restored to him that he didn't know what to do. he kept tiptoeing back to look at the boys as they slept. and sleep they did hour after hour, until their young bodies were renewed and refreshed. when they finally awoke, it was with the feeling that they never could sleep again. they went up on deck to take their usual morning look around. it was not yet time to report to colonel bright. to their great surprise, they were lying outside a harbor. in the distance they could see through the morning haze the lines of shipping and the bright tiled roofs of the houses. there was a feeling of expectation on board the ship. porky hailed a sailor and asked where they were. "in europe," said the jacky, smiling, and hurried away. "in europe!" repeated porky. "i bet colonel bright will tell us." they hurried below. but to their eager questions the colonel merely repeated the sailor's reply. the boys hurried on deck again. they stood by the rail, staring at the purple shore, when they were startled by a shot below, the sound of a scuffle, and as they turned a man raced past, leaped the rail and was swallowed by the sea. scarcely had his head appeared again when with a rush captain greene gained the rail. for a moment he took aim; a steady, relentless aim. a puff of smoke marked the shot, and the black head, bobbing on the waves, disappeared. a hand was raised, and seemed to wave a good-by. the boys watched breathlessly, then turned to stare at the captain, who was peering intently at the water. there was something in his stern, set face that forbade questioning. for once they were completely silenced. when the head, did not come to the surface, the captain turned and went hastily down the companionway. the boys looked at each other. "what on earth does it all mean?" porky demanded of no one in particular. they, too, hurried, down. the door of the captain's cabin was ajar. colonel bright, very pale, and supported by the purser, sat opposite the door. when he saw the boys' anxious faces he nodded, and they went silently to his side. then they saw that on the captain's bunk a form, limp and ghastly, was stretched out under the hand of the surgeon. it was the captain of the firefly, and as they looked, the surgeon stood upright. "he is dead," he said briefly. he came around by colonel bright, and assisted him to his feet. "better come to your own cabin, sir," he suggested. "come, boys," said colonel bright. then to the surgeon, and the purser: "i am merely scratched. i do not need further assistance. see you can't do something further for that poor fellow." he turned and, followed by the boys, walked slowly down the passage to his own large, comfortable cabin, where he dropped wearily into a chair, and with a gesture directed the boys to remove his tunic. no one spoke until he had been partly undressed, and had laid down on the bunk. "well, boys," he said then, with the little twinkling smile they loved, "i certainly was born lucky! i suppose you are both simply bursting to know what has happened, and i don't blame you. i want to say first of all, though, that you have shown a great deal of discretion; a great deal of discretion indeed." the boys looked wildly at each other. they were not very strong on long words, and while they were sure that they were being praised, they were not sure just exactly what discretion meant. beany simpered and let it go at that; porky mumbled, "much obliged." colonel bright pulled his torn shirt over the spot on his broad shoulder where a wad of absorbent cotton and a lot of crisscrossed surgeon's plaster marked the slight wound. he moved the shoulder curiously. "that will be stiff for a couple of days, i suppose, but that is all there will be to it. nothing but a scratch. did you see the man go overboard, boys?" "yes, sir, we did," said porky; "but we didn't see who it was. was it any one we knew? we saw the captain shoot him." "yes," said beany of the eagle eye, "it made me feel funny, somehow. the captain shot quick. just bing! and the bullet hit him, about an inch above the back of his neck just a shade to the left of the middle of his head." "close enough to keep him down below until the day of judgment," said the colonel, sighing. "so you didn't see his face? well, boys, if you had, you would have seen a familiar countenance. it was our second mate; and a spy!" "what?" cried both boys, startled at the words and tone. "just that!" said the colonel. "we have had a scene, i can tell you. if one of you will order a cup of coffee for me i will tell you all about it." he leaned back and closed his eyes. beany made for the door; and porky sat in silence until his brother returned with a tray of coffee, toast and bacon. then while the colonel ate, they busied themselves about one thing and another around the cabin, until at last the colonel set down the empty coffee cup, and spoke. "i often wonder," he said, "how you boys learned some of the great truths that you know." porky laughed. "like not talking when you ate?" he asked. "that was mom. she always says that you can't expect to learn anything from a hungry man." "a very wise woman," the colonel said. "she is perfectly right." he looked at his watch. "there is a little time, and while i smoke i will tell you all about the little fuss we have just finished. yes, boys, the man you saw killed was the second mate of this ship, and a spy; a miserable spy. no use wasting pity on him; he got what he deserved." the colonel scowled. chapter xvi somewhere in france porky and beany sat perfectly still, staring with round, bulging eyes at the colonel. they did not speak. they just sat there and thought and stared, and stared and thought again. this was about the most stunning blow of all. they had known the mate throughout the voyage as a silent, kindly man who had treated them well but had not made the least impression on them otherwise. a spy! it couldn't be! porky was conscious of a wave of horror as he told himself that there must be some mistake. not the second mate! such a nice man, always pottering about, always ready to answer questions, always interested in everything, always and forever asking questions himself, wanting to know everything about themselves and their home and their plans for the future. and he had been specially interested in the colonel--where he was going and what he was going to do. now that the boys, taking time to think about it, happened on that thought, it was rather funny what an amount of interest the old fellow had taken in trivial things concerning their beloved colonel. but it had gone over the boys' heads because they were so accustomed to having every one think that the colonel was about the whole thing, and to hearing every one talk about him, that the strange interest of the second mate did not raise a question in their minds. they had merely felt the flattered importance that they always felt about anything and everything concerning the truly great and simple-minded man whom they were so proud to know and to be with. for colonel bright was a truly great man. they were to learn that fact more and more as time went on, and as they saw him tried by circumstances that could only bring out the best and noblest in men. they saw troubled, perplexed, wounded and distressed. it was their great good fortune to feel that there were times when this great man really needed their boyish but deeply loyal and loving support. it was just as well that the future, so terrible and so bloodstained, was hidden from their young eyes. it is enough for this story that already the boys recognized the gallant, simple courage and tenderness of the colonel; enough that all their lives they were to be strengthened and ennobled by the example of his straightforward everyday life. when porky and beany had themselves become great men, when, in their turn, boys looked up to them with admiration and love, they learned to look back with boundless gratitude to the fate that had led them, through the boy scouts, into the friendship of colonel bright. a faint inkling of this, passed through the minds of the twins as they sat waiting for the colonel to begin his story. and each knew that the other felt it. the colonel regarded the boys with twinkling eyes. "sort of surprising, isn't it?" he said. "not that this affair would ever have come into your scheme of things at all, but for one thing. i have got you over here, and in some ways it is positively the worst fool thing i ever pulled off--taking the responsibility of two kids like you, at a time like this." "but, colonel, please!" interrupted porky. "don't think i am fresh, but just this once, while there is no one around, and no one will know we are lacking in respect to you, sir, as a superior, please, colonel, let me tell you--" "go on," said the colonel. "well," said porky, "looks to us as though we were going to land pretty soon, and we don't know where next nor anything about it; but please, colonel, just as long as you can, please let us stick by you! we have got to; we promised mrs. bright; and, besides, we don't look young, do we, colonel? now, honest, we don't!" he felt of his chin. "the way it looks, we have got to shave pretty quick, by next year anyhow. and we are tall; we are tall as you; and we look older when we are good and dirty, and we will be that mostly over here, i guess. and say, colonel, we ain't afraid; honest!" "oh, lord!" groaned the colonel. "that's the worst of it! if i could put a little wholesome fear into your heads, i would feel better. however, boys, i want your word of honor that you will never make any serious move without consulting me." "we promise!" said both boys, and beany as an after-thought repeated, "not any serious in move." "then here is where we stand," said the colonel, as the boys approached closer to his chair. "in two hours we will disembark. the harbor is clear, and it is the first time in two weeks that any transports have been able to come in as near as this. it is a great chance. i am glad of this chance to tell you what the outlook is. i have been sent over here, boys, to work directly with general pershing. we will be near and directly at the front all the time if our lives are spared. i did not know this when we started. it was all in the sealed orders that our late friend the mate was so anxious to get into his possession. but about that later. just what our duties are to be i cannot tell until i have had a conference with the general. here is where you come in. as i understand it now, i am to be in charge of a wing, not very many miles from headquarters. i intend to use you as messengers. it is not a light task. heaven forgive me if i am the cause of bringing you to harm! but the fact remains that as i see things, one life, young or old, is no better than another in this great crisis. it is up to every human being to do his or her part. fate has led you a long ways from home; and in spite of that coming crop of whiskers, porky, you are rather young. however, as i said, that weighs nothing in the balance of necessity. nothing! man, woman, child, we all must help. man, woman, and child, we have got to help, and now! "i may not have another chance to talk to you privately for some time. a few things are to be impressed on your minds. the first is this. take no foolish chances. don't be foolhardy. we cannot afford to waste our tools. and in this struggle tools are what you are, not boys, not human beings that will feel cold, and heat, and pain and privations; just tools. so take no chances. "we will go right from the dock to general pershing. i do not know where he is. however, after i have seen him, i will know where to place you. he will tell me if my plan for you as i have outlined it is a good one. rest assured that i will keep you as near me as i possibly can. "i have told you my first order. no chances other than the chances of war. the second thing is to keep ourselves as clean and as well as you possibly can. take every safeguard that you can possibly take. you do not want to be on the sick list the time when i most need you. that's about all, boys. don't forget that i am always your friend." the boys gulped queerly. then beany spoke up boldly. "and don't you forget that we are your friends, too! i read a piece once in a reader about a lion that was all tied up with ropes and a mouse happened around and chewed him loose. you are a colonel, but we are your friends just the same." the colonel burst out laughing. "chew away, old fellow!" he said when he could speak. "in the meantime let's get ready to leave." "but, colonel," wailed porky, who never forgot anything and who had an amount of curiosity that later nearly lost the colonel one of his "tools," "--but, colonel, what about the mate?" "by jove, i forgot i promised to tell you about him! well, two or three times captain greene thought his traps looked as though some one had been going through them, but he had everything locked up, and special keys made. these were on him night and day. but, you see, the mate knew a trick worth two of that. as he had the run of everything, he simply doped the cup of coffee the captain always took before going to bed, and, while the man was under the influence of the drug, he simply went through things. fortunately he was unable to find some papers that he was most anxious to got hold of, and in the meantime the captain spoke to the ship's doctor about feeling queer and lazy in the morning. "because everybody is suspicious of everything out of the beaten track these days, the doctor took to watching things a little on his own hook. he finally analyzed some of the coffee, and that put him on tile right track. a smart lad, that doctor, i can tell you! but it looked as though the mate smelled a mouse. for days the captain slept normally, while i commenced to get a dose of the same medicine. i did not know what was happening in the captain's cabin, and no one was watching me. one night the doctor came in just after i had had my last cigar and sat talking to me. blamed if i didn't go to sleep sitting bolt upright talking to him! he laid me down on the bunk, and my cigar stub came in for analysis. there was more dope! fact! things got pretty thick along about then. no one suspected the mate, but we suspected everybody else on the ship almost. then little things commenced to happen to the ship's machinery. one little thing after another broke down. we seemed to be regular bait for submarines. he had some way of signaling them other than the ship's wireless. it is certain that he never got hold of that, and he did not succeed in putting it out of commission if he tried to do so. we don't know whether he did try or not. "then one night or one morning, rather, the doctor was found unconscious just outside the captain's door. when he came to, he said he had felt uneasy about things, because nothing had happened for several days, so he thought he would take a look around. he was in his stocking feet, and just as he reached the captain's cabin, he saw a form ahead of him against the white door. he approached cautiously, but could not tell whether the person saw him or not. he did, all right. as soon as the doctor was within striking distance, the shadow struck and down went the doctor. he was hit with some padded weapon a glancing blow that merely knocked him out for a few hours. if it had struck full-- well, we would have been shy one good doctor. "when he was all right again, we put our heads together, and decided to bait the midnight visitor with some bogus papers. of course we still did not have the least suspicion as to the real source of the trouble. "that mate was in our confidence, and was at all our consultations. we followed clew after clew suggested by him. and i will say they were good ones. we found part of the missing papers sewed into the bedding roll of a soldier who happened to be saddled with a jaw-breaking german name, the hangover from some ancestors. we trotted him off to the brig, intending to execute him later. then we found a trinket belonging to the captain in the pocket of one of the sailors, a swede. the idea was, you see, to scatter our attention. "i don't know where we would have ended if it hadn't been for a trick of the captain's. he told the mate, and everybody else he could get hold of, that he had an ulcerated tooth, and was going to take a sleeping powder. he had some powdered sugar all fixed up. the mate was the only man in the cabin at the time, and the captain said all at once something came over him as though a voice had shouted, 'here is the man!' "yet not a line of the fellow's face changed. it was just sheer intuition. when the mate left the room, the captain got hold of the doctor, who was the only one we were really trusting then, and tipped him off. he in turn came to me and i did my part by declaring loudly that i was dead tired and was going to turn in. "well, boys, at four this morning we caught our bird. the mate, of all men on the ship! they caught him red-handed, as they say, at the captain's locker, and the doctor laid him out with a neat little tap from a billy, and when he came to we put him through the third degree. and we overhauled his things and found enough information to get him a string of german crosses a yard long. "he was meek as could be; but i know now that was because he thought he had a good chance to got away somehow. we are near shore; and it seems he can swim like a duck--a long-distance champion and all that. he was so very meek about it that we were a little careless. i know it taught me a lesson. there are only two places where a spy is safe: in his grave, or in irons; and he's not very safe then. he watched his chance and when he got a second's show, he moved like a whirlwind. he knocked his guard down and grabbed his revolver, all in one jump, shot full at captain greene, missed him but winged me and killed the captain of the firefly, poor fellow! "then he made for the door with captain green after him; and you know the rest." "gee!" said porky. "sakes!" added beany. there was a silence. the colonel looked at his watch. there was a sound of tramping from above. "they are getting the men ready to go ashore," he said. "this is to be the last daylight disembarkation. better go up and take a look around, boys. it is worth seeing. are your things all ship-shape?" "yes, sir; all ready to pick up," said porky, "can't we do something for you?" "not a thing, thank you! this arm does not even burn now. when you see me on deck, just fall in, and don't let me have to look for you." he smiled and dismissed them with a nod as the doctor entered. "doc," he said as the young man proceeded to put a dressing on the wounded arm, "there go two, of the most remarkable boys i have ever known. i expect great things of them sooner or later if their lives are spared." and with this prophecy, which was to be fulfilled far sooner than the colonel dreamed, the subject was closed. on deck the boys, with their bags beside them, watched the orderly rush of disembarkation with the keenest delight. they were as glad to go ashore as they had been to go aboard in that far, fair america that they were so proud and happy to call home. load after load of men left the side of the great ship, and the empty boats came dancing back from the great distant docks for other loads. the men were all happy and excited. the air was clear and clean as though it had just been washed, as indeed it had by a heavy rain the night before. overhead a couple of great planes circled above the harbor. the thought that they did not know where they were lent a touch of unreality and, romance to it all. the boats full of men went gayly off, the soldiers singing, calling, and whistling back to their mates still on board. "well, we are here!" said porky soberly. "yep!" answered beany. there was a long silence. then, "we are here all right!" he repeated. "yep!" said porky. "i wish we could call mom and pop up on a long distance and tell them we are safe. it's going to be some old time before we see them again!" "sure is!" agreed porky, his face growing strangely long at the thought. "there's one thing we got to remember. we are here, and they were game to let us come. i didn't realize how game they were, beans, but they sure were game! well, we have got to pay them up for it, and the only way we can do it, is by first taking the best care of ourselves that we possibly can, and then by doing something to make them proud of us. of course we don't know what we can do, but something will come up, i know; and it's up to us to do it." "you bet we will!" said beany solemnly. they turned again to watch the sailors. colonel bright appeared on deck just then, and the boys hurried to his side, and stood unobtrusively behind him. the next few hours passed in such a whirl that they were never clearly defined in the boys' memory. event followed event with dizzying rapidity. short trips on strange, camouflaged little railroads, alternated with dashes in strange, large, unkempt automobiles driven by haggard, desperate, cool, young fellows who looked and were equal to any emergency. little was said. occasionally they were personally conducted by one or two french officers who talked rapidly in their own tongue to colonel bright, who actually understood what they said, and fired back remarks almost as rapid as theirs. "machine guns!" beany muttered once to his brother. as they went on, the country commenced to show devastating effect of war. by the time darkness fell they were passing through a torn and tumbled landscape, with here and there a ruined village. they reached a place finally, unlighted, almost unmarked in the darkness. the boys wondered at the cleverness of the chauffeur as he silently rounded a corner and brought his car up to a ruined gateway, behind which a small squat building showed dimly. without a word colonel bright went rapidly up the path, the boys following closely behind, while the orderly carried the colonel's bags. a low tap on the door and it opened, disclosing a densely dark hall or room; the boys could not see enough to tell what it was. as the door was closed, a flashlight was pressed, and they were able to follow their guide across the space and through another corridor to a heavy door. a low tap and this door was opened. as they entered, a man rose from a desk. he was gray and grizzled; a man whose keen face and eagle glance ware destined to live as long as history is written or read, a man in whom america rests her pride and hopes. as they entered, he bent his piercing glance upon them; then, recognizing colonel bright, his face was lighted with a bright smile that suddenly wiped out its lines of care, and he stepped forward, both hands extended in greeting. it was general pershing. the boys, standing well back in the shadows of the gloomy room, felt something catch their throats. france... the firing line... general pershing... all at once, they had no doubts, no memories, no homesickness, no regrets. france; the firing line; general pershing! the boys stood rigidly at attention. the room was dark; no one saw them. it did not matter. joy and courage and high hopes filled their hearts. it was the beginning of their great adventure. the end the swoop! or how clarence saved england _a tale of the great invasion_ by p. g. wodehouse preface it may be thought by some that in the pages which follow i have painted in too lurid colours the horrors of a foreign invasion of england. realism in art, it may be argued, can be carried too far. i prefer to think that the majority of my readers will acquit me of a desire to be unduly sensational. it is necessary that england should be roused to a sense of her peril, and only by setting down without flinching the probable results of an invasion can this be done. this story, i may mention, has been written and published purely from a feeling of patriotism and duty. mr. alston rivers' sensitive soul will be jarred to its foundations if it is a financial success. so will mine. but in a time of national danger we feel that the risk must be taken. after all, at the worst, it is a small sacrifice to make for our country. p. g. wodehouse. _the bomb-proof shelter,_ _london, w._ part one chapter an english boy's home _august the first, --_ clarence chugwater looked around him with a frown, and gritted his teeth. "england--my england!" he moaned. clarence was a sturdy lad of some fourteen summers. he was neatly, but not gaudily, dressed in a flat-brimmed hat, a coloured handkerchief, a flannel shirt, a bunch of ribbons, a haversack, football shorts, brown boots, a whistle, and a hockey-stick. he was, in fact, one of general baden-powell's boy scouts. scan him closely. do not dismiss him with a passing glance; for you are looking at the boy of destiny, at clarence macandrew chugwater, who saved england. to-day those features are familiar to all. everyone has seen the chugwater column in aldwych, the equestrian statue in chugwater road (formerly piccadilly), and the picture-postcards in the stationers' windows. that bulging forehead, distended with useful information; that massive chin; those eyes, gleaming behind their spectacles; that _tout ensemble_; that _je ne sais quoi_. in a word, clarence! he could do everything that the boy scout must learn to do. he could low like a bull. he could gurgle like a wood-pigeon. he could imitate the cry of the turnip in order to deceive rabbits. he could smile and whistle simultaneously in accordance with rule (and only those who have tried this know how difficult it is). he could spoor, fell trees, tell the character from the boot-sole, and fling the squaler. he did all these things well, but what he was really best at was flinging the squaler. * * * * * clarence, on this sultry august afternoon, was tensely occupied tracking the family cat across the dining-room carpet by its foot-prints. glancing up for a moment, he caught sight of the other members of the family. "england, my england!" he moaned. it was indeed a sight to extract tears of blood from any boy scout. the table had been moved back against the wall, and in the cleared space mr. chugwater, whose duty it was to have set an example to his children, was playing diabolo. beside him, engrossed in cup-and-ball, was his wife. reggie chugwater, the eldest son, the heir, the hope of the house, was reading the cricket news in an early edition of the evening paper. horace, his brother, was playing pop-in-taw with his sister grace and grace's _fiance_, ralph peabody. alice, the other miss chugwater, was mending a badminton racquet. not a single member of that family was practising with the rifle, or drilling, or learning to make bandages. clarence groaned. "if you can't play without snorting like that, my boy," said mr. chugwater, a little irritably, "you must find some other game. you made me jump just as i was going to beat my record." "talking of records," said reggie, "fry's on his way to his eighth successive century. if he goes on like this, lancashire will win the championship." "i thought he was playing for somerset," said horace. "that was a fortnight ago. you ought to keep up to date in an important subject like cricket." once more clarence snorted bitterly. "i'm sure you ought not to be down on the floor, clarence," said mr. chugwater anxiously. "it is so draughty, and you have evidently got a nasty cold. _must_ you lie on the floor?" "i am spooring," said clarence with simple dignity. "but i'm sure you can spoor better sitting on a chair with a nice book." "_i_ think the kid's sickening for something," put in horace critically. "he's deuced roopy. what's up, clarry?" "i was thinking," said clarence, "of my country--of england." "what's the matter with england?" "_she's_ all right," murmured ralph peabody. "my fallen country!" sighed clarence, a not unmanly tear bedewing the glasses of his spectacles. "my fallen, stricken country!" "that kid," said reggie, laying down his paper, "is talking right through his hat. my dear old son, are you aware that england has never been so strong all round as she is now? do you _ever_ read the papers? don't you know that we've got the ashes and the golf championship, and the wibbley-wob championship, and the spiropole, spillikins, puff-feather, and animal grab championships? has it come to your notice that our croquet pair beat america last thursday by eight hoops? did you happen to hear that we won the hop-skip-and-jump at the last olympic games? you've been out in the woods, old sport." clarence's heart was too full for words. he rose in silence, and quitted the room. "got the pip or something!" said reggie. "rum kid! i say, hirst's bowling well! five for twenty-three so far!" clarence wandered moodily out of the house. the chugwaters lived in a desirable villa residence, which mr. chugwater had built in essex. it was a typical englishman's home. its name was nasturtium villa. as clarence walked down the road, the excited voice of a newspaper-boy came to him. presently the boy turned the corner, shouting, "ker-lapse of surrey! sensational bowling at the oval!" he stopped on seeing clarence. "paper, general?" clarence shook his head. then he uttered a startled exclamation, for his eye had fallen on the poster. it ran as follows:-- surrey doing badly german army lands in england chapter the invaders clarence flung the boy a halfpenny, tore a paper from his grasp, and scanned it eagerly. there was nothing to interest him in the body of the journal, but he found what he was looking for in the stop-press space. "stop press news," said the paper. "fry not out, . surrey for . a german army landed in essex this afternoon. loamshire handicap: spring chicken, ; salome, ; yip-i-addy, . seven ran." essex! then at any moment the foe might be at their doors; more, inside their doors. with a passionate cry, clarence tore back to the house. he entered the dining-room with the speed of a highly-trained marathon winner, just in time once more to prevent mr. chugwater lowering his record. "the germans!" shouted clarence. "we are invaded!" this time mr. chugwater was really annoyed. "if i have told you once about your detestable habit of shouting in the house, clarence, i have told you a hundred times. if you cannot be a boy scout quietly, you must stop being one altogether. i had got up to six that time." "but, father----" "silence! you will go to bed this minute; and i shall consider the question whether you are to have any supper. it will depend largely on your behaviour between now and then. go!" "but, father----" clarence dropped the paper, shaken with emotion. mr. chugwater's sternness deepened visibly. "clarence! must i speak again?" he stooped and removed his right slipper. clarence withdrew. reggie picked up the paper. "that kid," he announced judicially, "is off his nut! hullo! i told you so! fry not out, . good old charles!" "i say," exclaimed horace, who sat nearest the window, "there are two rummy-looking chaps coming to the front door, wearing a sort of fancy dress!" "it must be the germans," said reggie. "the paper says they landed here this afternoon. i expect----" a thunderous knock rang through the house. the family looked at one another. voices were heard in the hall, and next moment the door opened and the servant announced "mr. prinsotto and mr. aydycong." "or, rather," said the first of the two newcomers, a tall, bearded, soldierly man, in perfect english, "prince otto of saxe-pfennig and captain the graf von poppenheim, his aide-de-camp." "just so--just so!" said mr. chugwater, affably. "sit down, won't you?" the visitors seated themselves. there was an awkward silence. "warm day!" said mr. chugwater. "very!" said the prince, a little constrainedly. "perhaps a cup of tea? have you come far?" "well--er--pretty far. that is to say, a certain distance. in fact, from germany." "i spent my summer holiday last year at dresden. capital place!" "just so. the fact is, mr.--er--" "chugwater. by the way--my wife, mrs. chugwater." the prince bowed. so did his aide-de-camp. "the fact is, mr. jugwater," resumed the prince, "we are not here on a holiday." "quite so, quite so. business before pleasure." the prince pulled at his moustache. so did his aide-de-camp, who seemed to be a man of but little initiative and conversational resource. "we are invaders." "not at all, not at all," protested mr. chugwater. "i must warn you that you will resist at your peril. you wear no uniform--" "wouldn't dream of such a thing. except at the lodge, of course." "you will be sorely tempted, no doubt. do not think that i do not appreciate your feelings. this is an englishman's home." mr. chugwater tapped him confidentially on the knee. "and an uncommonly snug little place, too," he said. "now, if you will forgive me for talking business, you, i gather, propose making some stay in this country." the prince laughed shortly. so did his aide-de-camp. "exactly," continued mr. chugwater, "exactly. then you will want some _pied-a-terre_, if you follow me. i shall be delighted to let you this house on remarkably easy terms for as long as you please. just come along into my study for a moment. we can talk it over quietly there. you see, dealing direct with me, you would escape the middleman's charges, and--" gently but firmly he edged the prince out of the room and down the passage. the aide-de-camp continued to sit staring woodenly at the carpet. reggie closed quietly in on him. "excuse me," he said; "talking shop and all that. but i'm an agent for the come one come all accident and life assurance office. you have heard of it probably? we can offer you really exceptional terms. you must not miss a chance of this sort. now here's a prospectus--" horace sidled forward. "i don't know if you happen to be a cyclist, captain--er--graf; but if you'd like a practically new motorbike, only been used since last november, i can let you--" there was a swish of skirts as grace and alice advanced on the visitor. "i'm sure," said grace winningly, "that you're fond of the theatre, captain poppenheim. we are getting up a performance of 'ici on parle francais,' in aid of the fund for supplying square meals to old-age pensioners. such a deserving object, you know. now, how many tickets will you take?" "you can sell them to your friends, you know," added mrs. chugwater. the aide-de-camp gulped convulsively. * * * * * ten minutes later two penniless men groped their way, dazed, to the garden gate. "at last," said prince otto brokenly, for it was he, "at last i begin to realise the horrors of an invasion--for the invaders." and together the two men staggered on. chapter england's peril when the papers arrived next morning, it was seen that the situation was even worse than had at first been suspected. not only had the germans effected a landing in essex, but, in addition, no fewer than eight other hostile armies had, by some remarkable coincidence, hit on that identical moment for launching their long-prepared blow. england was not merely beneath the heel of the invader. it was beneath the heels of nine invaders. there was barely standing-room. full details were given in the press. it seemed that while germany was landing in essex, a strong force of russians, under the grand duke vodkakoff, had occupied yarmouth. simultaneously the mad mullah had captured portsmouth; while the swiss navy had bombarded lyme regis, and landed troops immediately to westward of the bathing-machines. at precisely the same moment china, at last awakened, had swooped down upon that picturesque little welsh watering-place, lllgxtplll, and, despite desperate resistance on the part of an excursion of evanses and joneses from cardiff, had obtained a secure foothold. while these things were happening in wales, the army of monaco had descended on auchtermuchty, on the firth of clyde. within two minutes of this disaster, by greenwich time, a boisterous band of young turks had seized scarborough. and, at brighton and margate respectively, small but determined armies, the one of moroccan brigands, under raisuli, the other of dark-skinned warriors from the distant isle of bollygolla, had made good their footing. this was a very serious state of things. correspondents of the _daily mail_ at the various points of attack had wired such particulars as they were able. the preliminary parley at lllgxtplll between prince ping pong pang, the chinese general, and llewellyn evans, the leader of the cardiff excursionists, seems to have been impressive to a degree. the former had spoken throughout in pure chinese, the latter replying in rich welsh, and the general effect, wired the correspondent, was almost painfully exhilarating. so sudden had been the attacks that in very few instances was there any real resistance. the nearest approach to it appears to have been seen at margate. at the time of the arrival of the black warriors which, like the other onslaughts, took place between one and two o'clock on the afternoon of august bank holiday, the sands were covered with happy revellers. when the war canoes approached the beach, the excursionists seem to have mistaken their occupants at first for a troupe of nigger minstrels on an unusually magnificent scale; and it was freely noised abroad in the crowd that they were being presented by charles frohmann, who was endeavouring to revive the ancient glories of the christy minstrels. too soon, however, it was perceived that these were no harmless moore and burgesses. suspicion was aroused by the absence of banjoes and tambourines; and when the foremost of the negroes dexterously scalped a small boy, suspicion became certainty. in this crisis the trippers of margate behaved well. the mounted infantry, on donkeys, headed by uncle bones, did much execution. the ladies' tormentor brigade harassed the enemy's flank, and a hastily-formed band of sharp-shooters, armed with three-shies-a-penny balls and milky cocos, undoubtedly troubled the advance guard considerably. but superior force told. after half an hour's fighting the excursionists fled, leaving the beach to the foe. at auchtermuchty and portsmouth no obstacle, apparently, was offered to the invaders. at brighton the enemy were permitted to land unharmed. scarborough, taken utterly aback by the boyish vigour of the young turks, was an easy prey; and at yarmouth, though the grand duke received a nasty slap in the face from a dexterously-thrown bloater, the resistance appears to have been equally futile. by tea-time on august the first, nine strongly-equipped forces were firmly established on british soil. chapter what england thought of it such a state of affairs, disturbing enough in itself, was rendered still more disquieting by the fact that, except for the boy scouts, england's military strength at this time was practically nil. the abolition of the regular army had been the first step. several causes had contributed to this. in the first place, the socialists had condemned the army system as unsocial. privates, they pointed out, were forbidden to hob-nob with colonels, though the difference in their positions was due to a mere accident of birth. they demanded that every man in the army should be a general. comrade quelch, in an eloquent speech at newington butts, had pointed, amidst enthusiasm, to the republics of south america, where the system worked admirably. scotland, too, disapproved of the army, because it was professional. mr. smith wrote several trenchant letters to mr. c. j. b. marriott on the subject. so the army was abolished, and the land defence of the country entrusted entirely to the territorials, the legion of frontiersmen, and the boy scouts. but first the territorials dropped out. the strain of being referred to on the music-hall stage as teddy-boys was too much for them. then the frontiersmen were disbanded. they had promised well at the start, but they had never been themselves since la milo had been attacked by the manchester watch committee. it had taken all the heart out of them. so that in the end england's defenders were narrowed down to the boy scouts, of whom clarence chugwater was the pride, and a large civilian population, prepared, at any moment, to turn out for their country's sake and wave flags. a certain section of these, too, could sing patriotic songs. * * * * * it was inevitable, in the height of the silly season, that such a topic as the simultaneous invasion of great britain by nine foreign powers should be seized upon by the press. countless letters poured into the offices of the london daily papers every morning. space forbids more than the gist of a few of these. miss charlesworth wrote:--"in this crisis i see no alternative. i shall disappear." mr. horatio bottomley, in _john bull_, said that there was some very dirty and underhand work going on, and that the secret history of the invasion would be published shortly. he himself, however, preferred any invader, even the king of bollygolla, to some k.c.'s he could name, though he was fond of dear old muir. he wanted to know why inspector drew had retired. the _daily express_, in a thoughtful leader, said that free trade evidently meant invaders for all. mr. herbert gladstone, writing to the _times_, pointed out that he had let so many undesirable aliens into the country that he did not see that a few more made much difference. mr. george r. sims made eighteen puns on the names of the invading generals in the course of one number of "mustard and cress." mr. h. g. pelissier urged the public to look on the bright side. there was a sun still shining in the sky. besides, who knew that some foreign marksman might not pot the censor? mr. robert fitzsimmons offered to take on any of the invading generals, or all of them, and if he didn't beat them it would only be because the referee had a wife and seven small children and had asked him as a personal favour to let himself be knocked out. he had lost several fights that way. the directors of the crystal palace wrote a circular letter to the shareholders, pointing out that there was a good time coming. with this addition to the public, the palace stood a sporting chance of once more finding itself full. judge willis asked: "what is an invasion?" signor scotti cabled anxiously from america (prepaid): "stands scotland where it did?" mr. lewis waller wrote heroically: "how many of them are there? i am usually good for about half a dozen. are they assassins? i can tackle any number of assassins." mr. seymour hicks said he hoped they would not hurt george edwardes. mr. george edwardes said that if they injured seymour hicks in any way he would never smile again. a writer in _answers_ pointed out that, if all the invaders in the country were piled in a heap, they would reach some of the way to the moon. far-seeing men took a gloomy view of the situation. they laid stress on the fact that this counter-attraction was bound to hit first-class cricket hard. for some years gates had shown a tendency to fall off, owing to the growing popularity of golf, tennis, and other games. the desire to see the invaders as they marched through the country must draw away thousands who otherwise would have paid their sixpences at the turnstiles. it was suggested that representations should be made to the invading generals with a view to inducing them to make a small charge to sightseers. in sporting circles the chief interest centered on the race to london. the papers showed the positions of the various armies each morning in their runners and betting columns; six to four on the germans was freely offered, but found no takers. considerable interest was displayed in the probable behaviour of the nine armies when they met. the situation was a curious outcome of the modern custom of striking a deadly blow before actually declaring war. until the moment when the enemy were at her doors, england had imagined that she was on terms of the most satisfactory friendship with her neighbours. the foe had taken full advantage of this, and also of the fact that, owing to a fit of absent-mindedness on the part of the government, england had no ships afloat which were not entirely obsolete. interviewed on the subject by representatives of the daily papers, the government handsomely admitted that it was perhaps in some ways a silly thing to have done; but, they urged, you could not think of everything. besides, they were on the point of laying down a _dreadnought_, which would be ready in a very few years. meanwhile, the best thing the public could do was to sleep quietly in their beds. it was fisher's tip; and fisher was a smart man. and all the while the invaders' marathon continued. who would be the first to reach london? chapter the germans reach london the germans had got off smartly from the mark and were fully justifying the long odds laid upon them. that master-strategist, prince otto of saxe-pfennig, realising that if he wished to reach the metropolis quickly he must not go by train, had resolved almost at once to walk. though hampered considerably by crowds of rustics who gathered, gaping, at every point in the line of march, he had made good progress. the german troops had strict orders to reply to no questions, with the result that little time was lost in idle chatter, and in a couple of days it was seen that the army of the fatherland was bound, barring accidents, to win comfortably. the progress of the other forces was slower. the chinese especially had undergone great privations, having lost their way near llanfairpwlgwnngogogoch, and having been unable to understand the voluble directions given to them by the various shepherds they encountered. it was not for nearly a week that they contrived to reach chester, where, catching a cheap excursion, they arrived in the metropolis, hungry and footsore, four days after the last of their rivals had taken up their station. the german advance halted on the wooded heights of tottenham. here a camp was pitched and trenches dug. the march had shown how terrible invasion must of necessity be. with no wish to be ruthless, the troops of prince otto had done grievous damage. cricket-pitches had been trampled down, and in many cases even golf-greens dented by the iron heel of the invader, who rarely, if ever, replaced the divot. everywhere they had left ruin and misery in their train. with the other armies it was the same story. through carefully-preserved woods they had marched, frightening the birds and driving keepers into fits of nervous prostration. fishing, owing to their tramping carelessly through the streams, was at a standstill. croquet had been given up in despair. near epping the russians shot a fox.... * * * * * the situation which faced prince otto was a delicate one. all his early training and education had implanted in him the fixed idea that, if he ever invaded england, he would do it either alone or with the sympathetic co-operation of allies. he had never faced the problem of what he should do if there were rivals in the field. competition is wholesome, but only within bounds. he could not very well ask the other nations to withdraw. nor did he feel inclined to withdraw himself. "it all comes of this dashed swoop of the vulture business," he grumbled, as he paced before his tent, ever and anon pausing to sweep the city below him with his glasses. "i should like to find the fellow who started the idea! making me look a fool! still, it's just as bad for the others, thank goodness! well, poppenheim?" captain von poppenheim approached and saluted. "please, sir, the men say, 'may they bombard london?'" "bombard london!" "yes, sir; it's always done." prince otto pulled thoughtfully at his moustache. "bombard london! it seems--and yet--ah, well, they have few pleasures." he stood awhile in meditation. so did captain von poppenheim. he kicked a pebble. so did captain von poppenheim--only a smaller pebble. discipline is very strict in the german army. "poppenheim." "sir?" "any signs of our--er--competitors?" "yes, sir; the russians are coming up on the left flank, sir. they'll be here in a few hours. raisuli has been arrested at purley for stealing chickens. the army of bollygolla is about ten miles out. no news of the field yet, sir." the prince brooded. then he spoke, unbosoming himself more freely than was his wont in conversation with his staff. "between you and me, pop," he cried impulsively, "i'm dashed sorry we ever started this dashed silly invading business. we thought ourselves dashed smart, working in the dark, and giving no sign till the great pounce, and all that sort of dashed nonsense. seems to me we've simply dashed well landed ourselves in the dashed soup." captain von poppenheim saluted in sympathetic silence. he and the prince had been old chums at college. a life-long friendship existed between them. he would have liked to have expressed adhesion verbally to his superior officer's remarks. the words "i don't think" trembled on his tongue. but the iron discipline of the german army gagged him. he saluted again and clicked his heels. the prince recovered himself with a strong effort. "you say the russians will be here shortly?" he said. "in a few hours, sir." "and the men really wish to bombard london?" "it would be a treat to them, sir." "well, well, i suppose if we don't do it, somebody else will. and we got here first." "yes, sir." "then--" an orderly hurried up and saluted. "telegram, sir." absently the prince opened it. then his eyes lit up. "gotterdammerung!" he said. "i never thought of that. 'smash up london and provide work for unemployed mending it.--grayson,'" he read. "poppenheim." "sir?" "let the bombardment commence." "yes, sir." "and let it continue till the russians arrive. then it must stop, or there will be complications." captain von poppenheim saluted, and withdrew. chapter the bombardment of london thus was london bombarded. fortunately it was august, and there was nobody in town. otherwise there might have been loss of life. chapter a conference of the powers the russians, led by general vodkakoff, arrived at hampstead half an hour after the bombardment had ceased, and the rest of the invaders, including raisuli, who had got off on an _alibi_, dropped in at intervals during the week. by the evening of saturday, the sixth of august, even the chinese had limped to the metropolis. and the question now was, what was going to happen? england displayed a polite indifference to the problem. we are essentially a nation of sight-seers. to us the excitement of staring at the invaders was enough. into the complex international problems to which the situation gave rise it did not occur to us to examine. when you consider that a crowd of five hundred londoners will assemble in the space of two minutes, abandoning entirely all its other business, to watch a cab-horse that has fallen in the street, it is not surprising that the spectacle of nine separate and distinct armies in the metropolis left no room in the british mind for other reflections. the attraction was beginning to draw people back to london now. they found that the german shells had had one excellent result, they had demolished nearly all the london statues. and what might have conceivably seemed a draw-back, the fact that they had blown great holes in the wood-paving, passed unnoticed amidst the more extensive operations of the london county council. taking it for all in all, the german gunners had simply been beautifying london. the albert hall, struck by a merciful shell, had come down with a run, and was now a heap of picturesque ruins; whitefield's tabernacle was a charred mass; and the burning of the royal academy proved a great comfort to all. at a mass meeting in trafalgar square a hearty vote of thanks was passed, with acclamation, to prince otto. but if londoners rejoiced, the invaders were very far from doing so. the complicated state of foreign politics made it imperative that there should be no friction between the powers. yet here a great number of them were in perhaps as embarrassing a position as ever diplomatists were called upon to unravel. when nine dogs are assembled round one bone, it is rarely on the bone alone that teeth-marks are found at the close of the proceedings. prince otto of saxe-pfennig set himself resolutely to grapple with the problem. his chance of grappling successfully with it was not improved by the stream of telegrams which arrived daily from his imperial master, demanding to know whether he had yet subjugated the country, and if not, why not. he had replied guardedly, stating the difficulties which lay in his way, and had received the following: "at once mailed fist display. on get or out get.--wilhelm." it was then that the distracted prince saw that steps must be taken at once. carefully-worded letters were despatched by district messenger boys to the other generals. towards nightfall the replies began to come in, and, having read them, the prince saw that this business could never be settled without a personal interview. many of the replies were absolutely incoherent. raisuli, apologising for delay on the ground that he had been away in the isle of dogs cracking a crib, wrote suggesting that the germans and moroccans should combine with a view to playing the confidence trick on the swiss general, who seemed a simple sort of chap. "reminds me of dear old maclean," wrote raisuli. "there is money in this. will you come in? wire in the morning." the general of the monaco forces thought the best way would be to settle the thing by means of a game of chance of the odd-man-out class. he knew a splendid game called slippery sam. he could teach them the rules in half a minute. the reply of prince ping pong pang of china was probably brilliant and scholarly, but it was expressed in chinese characters of the ming period, which prince otto did not understand; and even if he had it would have done him no good, for he tried to read it from the top downwards instead of from the bottom up. the young turks, as might have been expected, wrote in their customary flippant, cheeky style. they were full of mischief, as usual. the body of the letter, scrawled in a round, schoolboy hand, dealt principally with the details of the booby-trap which the general had successfully laid for his head of staff. "he was frightfully shirty," concluded the note jubilantly. from the bollygolla camp the messenger-boy returned without a scalp, and with a verbal message to the effect that the king could neither read nor write. grand duke vodkakoff, from the russian lines, replied in his smooth, cynical, russian way:--"you appear anxious, my dear prince, to scratch the other entrants. may i beg you to remember what happens when you scratch a russian?" as for the mad mullah's reply, it was simply pure delirium. the journey from somaliland, and his meeting with his friend mr. dillon, appeared to have had the worse effects on his sanity. he opened with the statement that he was a tea-pot: and that was the only really coherent remark he made. prince otto placed a hand wearily on his throbbing brow. "we must have a conference," he said. "it is the only way." next day eight invitations to dinner went out from the german camp. * * * * * it would be idle to say that the dinner, as a dinner, was a complete success. half-way through the swiss general missed his diamond solitaire, and cold glances were cast at raisuli, who sat on his immediate left. then the king of bollygolla's table-manners were frankly inelegant. when he wanted a thing, he grabbed for it. and he seemed to want nearly everything. nor was the behaviour of the leader of the young turks all that could be desired. there had been some talk of only allowing him to come down to dessert; but he had squashed in, as he briefly put it, and it would be paltering with the truth to say that he had not had far more champagne than was good for him. also, the general of monaco had brought a pack of cards with him, and was spoiling the harmony by trying to induce prince ping pong pang to find the lady. and the brainless laugh of the mad mullah was very trying. altogether prince otto was glad when the cloth was removed, and the waiters left the company to smoke and talk business. anyone who has had anything to do with the higher diplomacy is aware that diplomatic language stands in a class by itself. it is a language specially designed to deceive the chance listener. thus when prince otto, turning to grand duke vodkakoff, said quietly, "i hear the crops are coming on nicely down kent way," the habitual frequenter of diplomatic circles would have understood, as did the grand duke, that what he really meant was, "now about this business. what do you propose to do?" the company, with the exception of the representative of the young turks, who was drinking _creme de menthe_ out of a tumbler, the mullah and the king of bollygolla bent forward, deeply interested, to catch the russian's reply. much would depend on this. vodkakoff carelessly flicked the ash off his cigarette. "so i hear," he said slowly. "but in shropshire, they tell me, they are having trouble with the mangel-wurzels." the prince frowned at this typical piece of shifty russian diplomacy. "how is your highness getting on with your highness's roller-skating?" he enquired guardedly. the russian smiled a subtle smile. "poorly," he said, "poorly. the last time i tried the outside edge i thought somebody had thrown the building at me." prince otto flushed. he was a plain, blunt man, and he hated this beating about the bush. "why does a chicken cross the road?" he demanded, almost angrily. the russian raised his eyebrows, and smiled, but made no reply. the prince, resolved to give him no chance of wriggling away from the point, pressed him hotly. "think of a number," he cried. "double it. add ten. take away the number you first thought of. divide it by three, and what is the result?" there was an awed silence. surely the russian, expert at evasion as he was, could not parry so direct a challenge as this. he threw away his cigarette and lit a cigar. "i understand," he said, with a tinkle of defiance in his voice, "that the suffragettes, as a last resource, propose to capture mr. asquith and sing the suffragette anthem to him." a startled gasp ran round the table. "because the higher he flies, the fewer?" asked prince otto, with sinister calm. "because the higher he flies, the fewer," said the russian smoothly, but with the smoothness of a treacherous sea. there was another gasp. the situation was becoming alarmingly tense. "you are plain-spoken, your highness," said prince otto slowly. at this moment the tension was relieved by the young turk falling off his chair with a crash on to the floor. everyone jumped up startled. raisuli took advantage of the confusion to pocket a silver ash-tray. the interruption had a good effect. frowns relaxed. the wranglers began to see that they had allowed their feelings to run away with them. it was with a conciliatory smile that prince otto, filling the grand duke's glass, observed: "trumper is perhaps the prettier bat, but i confess i admire fry's robust driving." the russian was won over. he extended his hand. "two down and three to play, and the red near the top corner pocket," he said with that half-oriental charm which he knew so well how to exhibit on occasion. the two shook hands warmly. and so it was settled, the russian having, as we have seen, waived his claim to bombard london in his turn, there was no obstacle to a peaceful settlement. it was obvious that the superior forces of the germans and russians gave them, if they did but combine, the key to the situation. the decision they arrived at was, as set forth above, as follows. after the fashion of the moment, the russian and german generals decided to draw the colour line. that meant that the troops of china, somaliland, bollygolla, as well as raisuli and the young turks, were ruled out. they would be given a week in which to leave the country. resistance would be useless. the combined forces of the germans, russians, swiss, and monacoans were overwhelming, especially as the chinese had not recovered from their wanderings in wales and were far too footsore still to think of serious fighting. when they had left, the remaining four powers would continue the invasion jointly. * * * * * prince otto of saxe-pfennig went to bed that night, comfortably conscious of a good work well done. he saw his way now clear before him. but he had made one miscalculation. he had not reckoned with clarence chugwater. part two chapter in the boy scouts' camp night! night in aldwych! in the centre of that vast tract of unreclaimed prairie known to londoners as the aldwych site there shone feebly, seeming almost to emphasise the darkness and desolation of the scene, a single light. it was the camp-fire of the boy scouts. the night was raw and windy. a fine rain had been falling for some hours. the date of september the first. for just a month england had been in the grip of the invaders. the coloured section of the hostile force had either reached its home by now, or was well on its way. the public had seen it go with a certain regret. not since the visit of the shah had such an attractive topic of conversation been afforded them. several comic journalists had built up a reputation and a large price per thousand words on the king of bollygolla alone. theatres had benefited by the index of a large, new, unsophisticated public. a piece at the waldorf theatre had run for a whole fortnight, and "the merry widow" had taken on a new lease of life. selfridge's, abandoning its policy of caution, had advertised to the extent of a quarter of a column in two weekly papers. now the young turks were back at school in constantinople, shuffling their feet and throwing ink pellets at one another; raisuli, home again in the old mountains, was working up the kidnapping business, which had fallen off sadly in his absence under the charge of an incompetent _locum tenens_; and the chinese, the bollygollans, and the troops of the mad mullah were enduring the miseries of sea-sickness out in mid-ocean. the swiss army had also gone home, in order to be in time for the winter hotel season. there only remained the germans, the russians, and the troops of monaco. * * * * * in the camp of the boy scouts a vast activity prevailed. few of london's millions realise how tremendous and far-reaching an association the boy scouts are. it will be news to the man in the street to learn that, with the possible exception of the black hand, the scouts are perhaps the most carefully-organised secret society in the world. their ramifications extend through the length and breadth of england. the boys you see parading the streets with hockey-sticks are but a small section, the aristocrats of the society. every boy in england, and many a man, is in the pay of the association. their funds are practically unlimited. by the oath of initiation which he takes on joining, every boy is compelled to pay into the common coffers a percentage of his pocket-money or his salary. when you drop his weekly three and sixpence into the hand of your office-boy on saturday, possibly you fancy he takes it home to mother. he doesn't. he spend two-and-six on woodbines. the other shilling goes into the treasury of the boy scouts. when you visit your nephew at eton, and tip him five pounds or whatever it is, does he spend it at the sock-shop? apparently, yes. in reality, a quarter reaches the common fund. take another case, to show the boy scouts' power. you are a city merchant, and, arriving at the office one morning in a bad temper, you proceed to cure yourself by taking it out of the office-boy. he says nothing, apparently does nothing. but that evening, as you are going home in the tube, a burly working-man treads heavily on your gouty foot. in ladbroke grove a passing hansom splashes you with mud. reaching home, you find that the cat has been at the cold chicken and the butler has given notice. you do not connect these things, but they are all alike the results of your unjust behaviour to your office-boy in the morning. or, meeting a ragged little matchseller, you pat his head and give him six-pence. next day an anonymous present of champagne arrives at your address. terrible in their wrath, the boy scouts never forget kindness. * * * * * the whistle of a striped iguanodon sounded softly in the darkness. the sentry, who was pacing to and fro before the camp-fire, halted, and peered into the night. as he peered, he uttered the plaintive note of a zebra calling to its mate. a voice from the darkness said, "een gonyama-gonyama." "invooboo," replied the sentry argumentatively "yah bo! yah bo! invooboo." an indistinct figure moved forward. "who goes there?" "a friend." "advance, friend, and give the countersign." "remember mafeking, and death to injuns." "pass friend! all's well." the figure walked on into the firelight. the sentry started; then saluted and stood to attention. on his face was a worshipping look of admiration and awe, such as some young soldier of the grande armee might have worn on seeing napoleon; for the newcomer was clarence chugwater. "your name?" said clarence, eyeing the sturdy young warrior. "private william buggins, sir." "you watch well, private buggins. england has need of such as you." he pinched the young scout's ear tolerantly. the sentry flushed with pleasure. "my orders have been carried out?" said clarence. "yes, sir. the patrols are all here." "enumerate them." "the chinchilla kittens, the bongos, the zebras, the iguanodons, the welsh rabbits, the snapping turtles, and a half-patrol of the rd london gazekas, sir." clarence nodded. "'tis well," he said. "what are they doing?" "some of them are acting a scout's play, sir; some are doing cone exercises; one or two are practising deep breathing; and the rest are dancing an old english morris dance." clarence nodded. "they could not be better employed. inform them that i have arrived and would address them." the sentry saluted. standing in an attitude of deep thought, with his feet apart, his hands clasped behind him, and his chin sunk upon his breast, clarence made a singularly impressive picture. he had left his essex home three weeks before, on the expiration of his ten days' holiday, to return to his post of junior sub-reporter on the staff of a leading london evening paper. it was really only at night now that he got any time to himself. during the day his time was his paper's, and he was compelled to spend the weary hours reading off results of races and other sporting items on the tape-machine. it was only at p.m. that he could begin to devote himself to the service of his country. the scouts had assembled now, and were standing, keen and alert, ready to do clarence's bidding. clarence returned their salute moodily. "scout-master wagstaff," he said. the scout-master, the leader of the troop formed by the various patrols, stepped forward. "let the war-dance commence." clarence watched the evolutions absently. his heart was ill-attuned to dances. but the thing had to be done, so it was as well to get it over. when the last movement had been completed, he raised his hand. "men," he said, in his clear, penetrating alto, "although you have not the same facilities as myself for hearing the latest news, you are all, by this time, doubtless aware that this england of ours lies 'neath the proud foot of a conqueror. it is for us to save her. (cheers, and a voice "invooboo!") i would call on you here and now to seize your hockey-sticks and rush upon the invader, were it not, alas! that such an action would merely result in your destruction. at present the invader is too strong. we must wait; and something tells me that we shall not have to wait long. (applause.) jealousy is beginning to spring up between the russians and the germans. it will be our task to aggravate this feeling. with our perfect organisation this should be easy. sooner or later this smouldering jealousy is going to burst into flame. any day now," he proceeded, warming as he spoke, "there may be the dickens of a dust-up between these johnnies, and then we've got 'em where the hair's short. see what i mean, you chaps? it's like this. any moment they may start scrapping and chaw each other up, and then we'll simply sail in and knock what's left endways." a shout of applause went up from the assembled scouts. "what i am anxious to impress upon you men," concluded clarence, in more measured tones, "is that our hour approaches. england looks to us, and it is for us to see that she does not look in vain. sedulously feeding the growing flame of animosity between the component parts of the invading horde, we may contrive to bring about that actual disruption. till that day, see to it that you prepare yourselves for war. men, i have finished." "what the chief scout means," said scout-master wagstaff, "is no rotting about and all that sort of rot. jolly well keep yourselves fit, and then, when the time comes, we'll give these russian and german blighters about the biggest hiding they've ever heard of. follow the idea? very well, then. mind you don't go mucking the show up." "een gonyama-gonyama!" shouted the new thoroughly roused troops. "invooboo! yah bo! yah bo! invooboo!" the voice of young england--of young england alert and at its post! chapter an important engagement historians, when they come to deal with the opening years of the twentieth century, will probably call this the music-hall age. at the time of the great invasion the music-halls dominated england. every town and every suburb had its hall, most of them more than one. the public appetite for sight-seeing had to be satisfied somehow, and the music-hall provided the easiest way of doing it. the halls formed a common place on which the celebrity and the ordinary man could meet. if an impulsive gentleman slew his grandmother with a coal-hammer, only a small portion of the public could gaze upon his pleasing features at the old bailey. to enable the rest to enjoy the intellectual treat, it was necessary to engage him, at enormous expense, to appear at a music-hall. there, if he happened to be acquitted, he would come on the stage, preceded by an asthmatic introducer, and beam affably at the public for ten minutes, speaking at intervals in a totally inaudible voice, and then retire; to be followed by some enterprising lady who had endeavoured, unsuccessfully, to solve the problem of living at the rate of ten thousand a year on an income of nothing, or who had performed some other similarly brainy feat. it was not till the middle of september that anyone conceived what one would have thought the obvious idea of offering music-hall engagements to the invading generals. the first man to think of it was solly quhayne, the rising young agent. solly was the son of abraham cohen, an eminent agent of the victorian era. his brothers, abe kern, benjamin colquhoun, jack coyne, and barney cowan had gravitated to the city; but solly had carried on the old business, and was making a big name for himself. it was solly who had met blinky bill mullins, the prominent sand-bagger, as he emerged from his twenty years' retirement at dartmoor, and booked him solid for a thirty-six months' lecturing tour on the mcginnis circuit. it was to him, too, that joe brown, who could eat eight pounds of raw meat in seven and a quarter minutes, owed his first chance of displaying his gifts to the wider public of the vaudeville stage. the idea of securing the services of the invading generals came to him in a flash. "s'elp me!" he cried. "i believe they'd go big; put 'em on where you like." solly was a man of action. within a minute he was talking to the managing director of the mammoth syndicate halls on the telephone. in five minutes the managing director had agreed to pay prince otto of saxe-pfennig five hundred pounds a week, if he could be prevailed upon to appear. in ten minutes the grand duke vodkakoff had been engaged, subject to his approval, at a weekly four hundred and fifty by the stone-rafferty circuit. and in a quarter of an hour solly quhayne, having pushed his way through a mixed crowd of tricky serios and versatile comedians and patterers who had been waiting to see him for the last hour and a half, was bowling off in a taximeter-cab to the russian lines at hampstead. general vodkakoff received his visitor civilly, but at first without enthusiasm. there were, it seemed, objections to his becoming an artiste. would he have to wear a properly bald head and sing songs about wanting people to see his girl? he didn't think he could. he had only sung once in his life, and that was twenty years ago at a bump-supper at moscow university. and even then, he confided to mr. quhayne, it had taken a decanter and a-half of neat vodka to bring him up to the scratch. the agent ridiculed the idea. "why, your grand grace," he cried, "there won't be anything of that sort. you ain't going to be starred as a _comic_. you're a refined lecturer and society monologue artist. 'how i invaded england,' with lights down and the cinematograph going. we can easily fake the pictures." the grand duke made another objection. "i understand," he said, "it is etiquette for music-hall artists in their spare time to eat--er--fried fish with their fingers. must i do that? i doubt if i could manage it." mr quhayne once more became the human semaphore. "s'elp me! of course you needn't! all the leading pros, eat it with a spoon. bless you, you can be the refined gentleman on the halls same as anywhere else. come now, your grand grace, is it a deal? four hundred and fifty chinking o'goblins a week for one hall a night, and press-agented at eight hundred and seventy-five. s'elp me! lauder doesn't get it, not in england." the grand duke reflected. the invasion has proved more expensive than he had foreseen. the english are proverbially a nation of shopkeepers, and they had put up their prices in all the shops for his special benefit. and he was expected to do such a lot of tipping. four hundred and fifty a week would come in uncommonly useful. "where do i sign?" he asked, extending his hand for the agreement. * * * * * five minutes later mr. quhayne was urging his taxidriver to exceed the speed-limit in the direction of tottenham. chapter a bird's-eye view of the situation clarence read the news of the two engagements on the tape at the office of his paper, but the first intimation the general public had of it was through the medium of headlines:-- music-hall sensation invading generals' gigantic salaries rumoured resentment of v.a.f. what will water-rats do? interview with mr. harry lauder clarence chuckled grimly as the tape clicked out the news. the end had begun. to sow jealousy between the rival generals would have been easy. to sow it between two rival music-hall artistes would be among the world's softest jobs. among the general public, of course, the announcement created a profound sensation. nothing else was talked about in train and omnibus. the papers had leaders on the subject. at first the popular impression was that the generals were going to do a comedy duo act of the who-was-it-i-seen-you-coming-down-the-street-with? type, and there was disappointment when it was found that the engagements were for different halls. rumours sprang up. it was said that the grand duke had for years been an enthusiastic amateur sword-swallower, and had, indeed, come to england mainly for the purpose of getting bookings; that the prince had a secure reputation in potsdam as a singer of songs in the george robey style; that both were expert trick-cyclists. then the truth came out. neither had any specialities; they would simply appear and deliver lectures. the feeling in the music-hall world was strong. the variety artists' federation debated the advisability of another strike. the water rats, meeting in mystic secrecy in a maiden lane public-house, passed fifteen resolutions in an hour and a quarter. sir harry lauder, interviewed by the _era_, gave it as his opinion that both the grand duke and the prince were gowks, who would do well to haud their blether. he himself proposed to go straight to america, where genuine artists were cheered in the streets and entertained at haggis dinners, and not forced to compete with amateur sumphs and gonuphs from other countries. clarence, brooding over the situation like a providence, was glad to see that already the new move had weakened the invaders' power. the day after the announcement in the press of the approaching _debut_ of the other generals, the leader of the army of monaco had hurried to the agents to secure an engagement for himself. he held out the special inducement of card-tricks, at which he was highly skilled. the agents had received him coldly. brown and day had asked him to call again. foster had sent out a message regretting that he was too busy to see him. at de freece's he had been kept waiting in the ante-room for two hours in the midst of a bevy of sparkling comediennes of pronounced peroxidity and blue-chinned men in dusty bowler-hats, who told each other how they had gone with a bang at oakham and john o'groats, and had then gone away in despair. on the following day, deeply offended, he had withdrawn his troops from the country. the strength of the invaders was melting away little by little. "how long?" murmured clarence chugwater, as he worked at the tape-machine. "how long?" chapter clarence hears important news it was clarence's custom to leave the office of his newspaper at one o'clock each day, and lunch at a neighbouring aerated bread shop. he did this on the day following the first appearance of the two generals at their respective halls. he had brought an early edition of the paper with him, and in the intervals of dealing with his glass of milk and scone and butter, he read the report of the performances. both, it seemed, had met with flattering receptions, though they had appeared nervous. the russian general especially, whose style, said the critic, was somewhat reminiscent of mr. t. e. dunville, had made himself a great favourite with the gallery. the report concluded by calling attention once more to the fact that the salaries paid to the two--eight hundred and seventy-five pounds a week each--established a record in music-hall history on this side of the atlantic. clarence had just finished this when there came to his ear the faint note of a tarantula singing to its young. he looked up. opposite him, at the next table, was seated a youth of fifteen, of a slightly grubby aspect. he was eyeing clarence closely. clarence took off his spectacles, polished them, and replaced them on his nose. as he did so, the thin gruffle of the tarantula sounded once more. without changing his expression, clarence cautiously uttered the deep snarl of a sand-eel surprised while bathing. it was sufficient. the other rose to his feet, holding his right hand on a line with his shoulder, palm to the front, thumb resting on the nail of the little finger, and the other three fingers upright. clarence seized his hat by the brim at the back, and moved it swiftly twice up and down. the other, hesitating no longer, came over to his table. "pip-pip!" he said, in an undertone. "toodleoo and god save the king!" whispered clarence. the mystic ceremony which always takes place when two boy scouts meet in public was complete. "private biggs of the eighteenth tarantulas, sir," said the boy respectfully, for he had recognised clarence. clarence inclined his head. "you may sit, private biggs," he said graciously. "you have news to impart?" "news, sir, that may be of vital importance." "say on." private biggs, who had brought his sparkling limado and a bath-bun with him from the other table, took a sip of the former, and embarked upon his narrative. "i am employed, sir," he said, "as a sort of junior clerk and office-boy by mr. solly quhayne, the music-hall agent." clarence tapped his brow thoughtfully; then his face cleared. "i remember. it was he who secured the engagements of the generals." "the same, sir." "proceed." the other resumed his story. "it is my duty to sit in a sort of rabbit-hutch in the outer office, take the callers' names, and especially to see that they don't get through to mr. quhayne till he wishes to receive them. that is the most exacting part of my day's work. you wouldn't believe how full of the purest swank some of these pros. are. tell you they've got an appointment as soon as look at you. artful beggars!" clarence nodded sympathetically. "this morning an acrobat and society contortionist made such a fuss that in the end i had to take his card in to the private office. mr. quhayne was there talking to a gentleman whom i recognised as his brother, mr. colquhoun. they were engrossed in their conversation, and did not notice me for a moment. with no wish to play the eavesdropper, i could not help but overhear. they were talking about the generals. 'yes, i know they're press-agented at eight seventy-five, dear boy,' i heard mr. quhayne say, 'but between you and me and the door-knob that isn't what they're getting. the german feller's drawing five hundred of the best, but i could only get four-fifty for the russian. can't say why. i should have thought, if anything, he'd be the bigger draw. bit of a comic in his way!' and then he saw me. there was some slight unpleasantness. in fact, i've got the sack. after it was over i came away to try and find you. it seemed to me that the information might be of importance." clarence's eyes gleamed. "you have done splendidly, private--no, _corporal_ biggs. do not regret your lost position. the society shall find you work. this news you have brought is of the utmost--the most vital importance. dash it!" he cried, unbending in his enthusiasm, "we've got 'em on the hop. if they aren't biting pieces out of each other in the next day or two, i'm jolly well mistaken." he rose; then sat down again. "corporal--no, dash it, sergeant biggs--you must have something with me. this is an occasion. the news you have brought me may mean the salvation of england. what would you like?" the other saluted joyfully. "i think i'll have another sparkling limado, thanks, awfully," he said. the beverage arrived. they raised their glasses. "to england," said clarence simply. "to england," echoed his subordinate. * * * * * clarence left the shop with swift strides, and hurried, deep in thought, to the offices of the _encore_ in wellington street. "yus?" said the office-boy interrogatively. clarence gave the scout's siquand, the pass-word. the boy's demeanour changed instantly. he saluted with the utmost respect. "i wish to see the editor," said clarence. a short speech, but one that meant salvation for the motherland. chapter seeds of discord the days following clarence's visit to the offices of the _encore_ were marked by a growing feeling of unrest, alike among invaded and invaders. the first novelty and excitement of the foreign occupation of the country was beginning to wear off, and in its place the sturdy independence so typical of the british character was reasserting itself. deep down in his heart the genuine englishman has a rugged distaste for seeing his country invaded by a foreign army. people were asking themselves by what right these aliens had overrun british soil. an ever-growing feeling of annoyance had begun to lay hold of the nation. it is probable that the departure of sir harry lauder first brought home to england what this invasion might mean. the great comedian, in his manifesto in the _times_, had not minced his words. plainly and crisply he had stated that he was leaving the country because the music-hall stage was given over to alien gowks. he was sorry for england. he liked england. but now, all he could say was, "god bless you." england shuddered, remembering that last time he had said, "god bless you till i come back." ominous mutterings began to make themselves heard. other causes contributed to swell the discontent. a regiment of russians, out route-marching, had walked across the bowling-screen at kennington oval during the surrey _v._ lancashire match, causing hayward to be bowled for a duck's-egg. a band of german sappers had dug a trench right across the turf at queen's club. the mutterings increased. nor were the invaders satisfied and happy. the late english summer had set in with all its usual severity, and the cossacks, reared in the kindlier climate of siberia, were feeling it terribly. colds were the rule rather than the exception in the russian lines. the coughing of the germans at tottenham could be heard in oxford street. the attitude of the british public, too, was getting on their nerves. they had been prepared for fierce resistance. they had pictured the invasion as a series of brisk battles--painful perhaps, but exciting. they had anticipated that when they had conquered the country they might meet with the glare of hatred as they patrolled the streets. the supercilious stare unnerved them. there is nothing so terrible to the highly-strung foreigner as the cold, contemptuous, patronising gaze of the englishman. it gave the invaders a perpetual feeling of doing the wrong thing. they felt like men who had been found travelling in a first-class carriage with a third-class ticket. they became conscious of the size of their hands and feet. as they marched through the metropolis they felt their ears growing hot and red. beneath the chilly stare of the populace they experienced all the sensations of a man who has come to a strange dinner-party in a tweed suit when everybody else has dressed. they felt warm and prickly. it was dull for them, too. london is never at its best in early september, even for the _habitue_. there was nothing to do. most of the theatres were shut. the streets were damp and dirty. it was all very well for the generals, appearing every night in the glare and glitter of the footlights; but for the rank and file the occupation of london spelt pure boredom. london was, in fact, a human powder-magazine. and it was clarence chugwater who with a firm hand applied the match that was to set it in a blaze. chapter the bomb-shell clarence had called at the offices of the _encore_ on a friday. the paper's publishing day is thursday. the _encore_ is the times of the music-hall world. it casts its curses here, bestows its benedictions (sparely) there. the _encore_ criticising the latest action of the variety artists' federation is the nearest modern approach to jove hurling the thunderbolt. its motto is, "cry havoc, and let loose the performing dogs of war." it so happened that on the thursday following his momentous visit to wellington street, there was need of someone on the staff of clarence's evening paper to go and obtain an interview from the russian general. mr. hubert wales had just published a novel so fruity in theme and treatment that it had been publicly denounced from the pulpit by no less a person than the rev. canon edgar sheppard, d.d., sub-dean of his majesty's chapels royal, deputy clerk of the closet and sub-almoner to the king. a morning paper had started the question, "should there be a censor of fiction?" and, in accordance with custom, editors were collecting the views of celebrities, preferably of those whose opinion on the subject was absolutely valueless. all the other reporters being away on their duties, the editor was at a loss. "isn't there anybody else?" he demanded. the chief sub-editor pondered. "there is young blooming chugwater," he said. (it was thus that england's deliverer was habitually spoken of in the office.) "then send him," said the editor. * * * * * grand duke vodkakoff's turn at the magnum palace of varieties started every evening at ten sharp. he topped the bill. clarence, having been detained by a review of the scouts, did not reach the hall till five minutes to the hour. he got to the dressing-room as the general was going on to the stage. the grand duke dressed in the large room with the other male turns. there were no private dressing-rooms at the magnum. clarence sat down on a basket-trunk belonging to the premier troupe of bounding zouaves of the desert, and waited. the four athletic young gentlemen who composed the troupe were dressing after their turn. they took no notice of clarence. presently one zouave spoke. "bit off to-night, bill. cold house." "not 'arf," replied his colleague. "gave me the shivers." "wonder how his nibs'll go." evidently he referred to the grand duke. "oh, _'e's_ all right. they eat his sort of swank. seems to me the profession's going to the dogs, what with these bloomin' amytoors an' all. got the 'airbrush, 'arry?" harry, a tall, silent zouave, handed over the hairbrush. bill continued. "i'd like to see him go on of a monday night at the old mogul. they'd soon show him. it gives me the fair 'ump, it does, these toffs coming in and taking the bread out of our mouths. why can't he give us chaps a chance? fair makes me rasp, him and his bloomin' eight hundred and seventy-five o' goblins a week." "not so much of your eight hundred and seventy-five, young feller me lad," said the zouave who had spoken first. "ain't you seen the rag this week?" "naow. what's in it? how does our advert, look?" "ow, that's all right, never mind that. you look at 'what the _encore_ would like to know.' that's what'll touch his nibs up." he produced a copy of the paper from the pocket of his great-coat which hung from the door, and passed it to his bounding brother. "read it out, old sort," he said. the other took it to the light and began to read slowly and cautiously, as one who is no expert at the art. "'what the _encore_ would like to know:--whether prince otto of saxe-pfennig didn't go particularly big at the lobelia last week? and whether his success hasn't compelled agent quhayne to purchase a larger-sized hat? and whether it isn't a fact that, though they are press-agented at the same figure, prince otto is getting fifty a week more than grand duke vodkakoff? and if it is not so, why a little bird has assured us that the prince is being paid five hundred a week and the grand duke only four hundred and fifty? and, in any case, whether the prince isn't worth fifty a week more than his russian friend?' lumme!" an awed silence fell upon the group. to clarence, who had dictated the matter (though the style was the editor's), the paragraph did not come as a surprise. his only feeling was one of relief that the editor had served up his material so well. he felt that he had been justified in leaving the more delicate literary work to that master-hand. "that'll be one in the eye," said the zouave harry. "'ere, i'll stick it up opposite of him when he comes back to dress. got a pin and a pencil, some of you?" he marked the quarter column heavily, and pinned it up beside the looking-glass. then he turned to his companions. "'ow about not waiting, chaps?" he suggested. "i shouldn't 'arf wonder, from the look of him, if he wasn't the 'aughty kind of a feller who'd cleave you to the bazooka for tuppence with his bloomin' falchion. i'm goin' to 'urry through with my dressing and wait till to-morrow night to see how he looks. no risks for willie!" the suggestion seemed thoughtful and good. the bounding zouaves, with one accord, bounded into their clothes and disappeared through the door just as a long-drawn chord from the invisible orchestra announced the conclusion of the grand duke's turn. general vodkakoff strutted into the room, listening complacently to the applause which was still going on. he had gone well. he felt pleased with himself. it was not for a moment that he noticed clarence. "ah," he said, "the interviewer, eh? you wish to--" clarence began to explain his mission. while he was doing so the grand duke strolled to the basin and began to remove his make-up. he favoured, when on the stage, a touch of the raven gipsy no. grease-paint. it added a picturesque swarthiness to his appearance, and made him look more like what he felt to be the popular ideal of a russian general. the looking-glass hung just over the basin. clarence, watching him in the glass, saw him start as he read the first paragraph. a dark flush, almost rivalling the raven gipsy no. , spread over his face. he trembled with rage. "who put that paper there?" he roared, turning. "with reference, then, to mr. hubert wales's novel," said clarence. the grand duke cursed mr. hubert wales, his novel, and clarence in one sentence. "you may possibly," continued clarence, sticking to his point like a good interviewer, "have read the trenchant, but some say justifiable remarks of the rev. canon edgar sheppard, d.d., sub-dean of his majesty's chapels royal, deputy clerk of the closet, and sub-almoner to the king." the grand duke swiftly added that eminent cleric to the list. "did you put that paper on this looking-glass?" he shouted. "i did not put that paper on that looking-glass," replied clarence precisely. "ah," said the grand duke, "if you had, i'd have come and wrung your neck like a chicken, and scattered you to the four corners of this dressing-room." "i'm glad i didn't," said clarence. "have you read this paper on the looking-glass?" "i have not read that paper on the looking-glass," replied clarence, whose chief fault as a conversationalist was that he was perhaps a shade too ollendorfian. "but i know its contents." "it's a lie!" roared the grand duke. "an infamous lie! i've a good mind to have him up for libel. i know very well he got them to put those paragraphs in, if he didn't write them himself." "professional jealousy," said clarence, with a sigh, "is a very sad thing." "i'll professional jealousy him!" "i hear," said clarence casually, "that he _has_ been going very well at the lobelia. a friend of mine who was there last night told me he took eleven calls." for a moment the russian general's face swelled apoplectically. then he recovered himself with a tremendous effort. "wait!" he said, with awful calm. "wait till to-morrow night! i'll show him! went very well, did he? ha! took eleven calls, did he? oh, ha, ha! and he'll take them to-morrow night, too! only"--and here his voice took on a note of fiendish purpose so terrible that, hardened scout as he was, clarence felt his flesh creep--"only this time they'll be catcalls!" and, with a shout of almost maniac laughter, the jealous artiste flung himself into a chair, and began to pull off his boots. clarence silently withdrew. the hour was very near. chapter the bird the grand duke vodkakoff was not the man to let the grass grow under his feet. he was no lobster, no flat-fish. he did it now--swift, secret, deadly--a typical muscovite. by midnight his staff had their orders. those orders were for the stalls at the lobelia. price of entrance to the gallery and pit was served out at daybreak to the eighth and fifteenth cossacks of the don, those fierce, semi-civilised fighting-machines who know no fear. grand duke vodkakoff's preparations were ready. * * * * * few more fortunate events have occurred in the history of english literature than the quite accidental visit of mr. bart kennedy to the lobelia on that historic night. he happened to turn in there casually after dinner, and was thus enabled to see the whole thing from start to finish. at a quarter to eleven a wild-eyed man charged in at the main entrance of carmelite house, and, too impatient to use the lift, dashed up the stairs, shouting for pens, ink and paper. next morning the _daily mail_ was one riot of headlines. the whole of page five was given up to the topic. the headlines were not elusive. they flung the facts at the reader:-- scene at the lobelia prince otto of saxe-pfennig given the bird by russian soldiers what will be the outcome? there were about seventeen more, and then came mr. bart kennedy's special report. he wrote as follows:-- "a night to remember. a marvellous night. a night such as few will see again. a night of fear and wonder. the night of september the eleventh. last night. "nine-thirty. i had dined. i had eaten my dinner. my dinner! so inextricably are the prose and romance of life blended. my dinner! i had eaten my dinner on this night. this wonderful night. this night of september the eleventh. last night! "i had dined at the club. a chop. a boiled potato. mushrooms on toast. a touch of stilton. half-a-bottle of beaune. i lay back in my chair. i debated within myself. a hall? a theatre? a book in the library? that night, the night of september the eleventh, i as near as a toucher spent in the library of my club with a book. that night! the night of september the eleventh. last night! "fate took me to the lobelia. fate! we are its toys. its footballs. we are the footballs of fate. fate might have sent me to the gaiety. fate took me to the lobelia. this fate which rules us. "i sent in my card to the manager. he let me through. ever courteous. he let me through on my face. this manager. this genial and courteous manager. "i was in the lobelia. a dead-head. i was in the lobelia as a dead-head!" here, in the original draft of the article, there are reflections, at some length, on the interior decorations of the hall, and an excursus on music-hall performances in general. it is not till he comes to examine the audience that mr. kennedy returns to the main issue. "and what manner of audience was it that had gathered together to view the entertainment provided by the genial and courteous manager of the lobelia? the audience. beyond whom there is no appeal. the caesars of the music-hall. the audience." at this point the author has a few extremely interesting and thoughtful remarks on the subject of audiences. these may be omitted. "in the stalls i noted a solid body of russian officers. these soldiers from the steppes. these bearded men. these russians. they sat silent and watchful. they applauded little. the programme left them cold. the trick cyclist. the dashing soubrette and idol of belgravia. the argumentative college chums. the swell comedian. the man with the performing canaries. none of these could rouse them. they were waiting. waiting. waiting tensely. every muscle taut. husbanding their strength. waiting. for what? "a man at my side told a friend that a fellow had told him that he had been told by a commissionaire that the pit and gallery were full of russians. russians. russians everywhere. why? were they genuine patrons of the halls? or were they there from some ulterior motive? there was an air of suspense. we were all waiting. waiting. for what? "the atmosphere is summed up in a word. one word. sinister. the atmosphere was sinister. "aa! a stir in the crowded house. the ruffling of the face of the sea before a storm. the sisters sigsbee, coon delineators and unrivalled burlesque artists, have finished their dance, smiled, blown kisses, skipped off, skipped on again, smiled, blown more kisses, and disappeared. a long chord from the orchestra. a chord that is almost a wail. a wail of regret for that which is past. two liveried menials appear. they carry sheets of cardboard. these menials carry sheets of cardboard. but not blank sheets. on each sheet is a number. "the number . "who is number ? "prince otto of saxe-pfennig. prince otto, general of the german army. prince otto is number . "a burst of applause from the house. but not from the russians. they are silent. they are waiting. for what? "the orchestra plays a lively air. the massive curtains part. a tall, handsome military figure strides on to the stage. he bows. this tall, handsome, military man bows. he is prince otto of saxe-pfennig, general of the army of germany. one of our conquerors. "he begins to speak. 'ladies and gentlemen.' this man, this general, says, 'ladies and gentlemen.' "but no more. no more. no more. nothing more. no more. he says, 'ladies and gentlemen,' but no more. "and why does he say no more? has he finished his turn? is that all he does? are his eight hundred and seventy-five pounds a week paid him for saying, 'ladies and gentlemen'? "no! "he would say more. he has more to say. this is only the beginning. this tall, handsome man has all his music still within him. "why, then, does he say no more? why does he say 'ladies and gentlemen,' but no more? no more. only that. no more. nothing more. no more. "because from the stalls a solid, vast, crushing 'boo!' is hurled at him. from the russians in the stalls comes this vast, crushing 'boo!' it is for this that they have been waiting. it is for this that they have been waiting so tensely. for this. they have been waiting for this colossal 'boo!' "the general retreats a step. he is amazed. startled. perhaps frightened. he waves his hands. "from gallery and pit comes a hideous whistling and howling. the noise of wild beasts. the noise of exploding boilers. the noise of a music-hall audience giving a performer the bird. "everyone is standing on his feet. some on mine. everyone is shouting. this vast audience is shouting. "words begin to emerge from the babel. "'get offski! rotten turnovitch!' these bearded russians, these stern critics, shout, 'rotten turnovitch!' "fire shoots from the eyes of the german. this strong man's eyes. "'get offski! swankietoff! rotten turnovitch!' "the fury of this audience is terrible. this audience. this last court of appeal. this audience in its fury is terrible. "what will happen? the german stands his ground. this man of blood and iron stands his ground. he means to go on. this strong man. he means to go on if it snows. "the audience is pulling up the benches. a tomato shatters itself on the prince's right eye. an over-ripe tomato. "'get offski!' three eggs and a cat sail through the air. falling short, they drop on to the orchestra. these eggs! this cat! they fall on the conductor and the second trombone. they fall like the gentle dew from heaven upon the place beneath. that cat! those eggs! "aa! at last the stage-manager--keen, alert, resourceful--saves the situation. this man. this stage-manager. this man with the big brain. slowly, inevitably, the fireproof curtain falls. it is half-way down. it is down. before it, the audience. the audience. behind it, the prince. the prince. that general. that man of iron. that performer who has just got the bird. "the russian national anthem rings through the hall. thunderous! triumphant! the russian national anthem. a paean of joy. "the menials reappear. those calm, passionless menials. they remove the number fifteen. they insert the number sixteen. they are like destiny--pitiless, unmoved, purposeful, silent. those menials. "a crash from the orchestra. turn number sixteen has begun...." chapter the meeting at the scotch stores prince otto of saxe-pfennig stood in the wings, shaking in every limb. german oaths of indescribable vigour poured from his lips. in a group some feet away stood six muscular, short-sleeved stage-hands. it was they who had flung themselves on the general at the fall of the iron curtain and prevented him dashing round to attack the stalls with his sabre. at a sign from the stage-manager they were ready to do it again. the stage-manager was endeavouring to administer balm. "bless you, your highness," he was saying, "it's nothing. it's what happens to everyone some time. ask any of the top-notch pros. ask 'em whether they never got the bird when they were starting. why, even now some of the biggest stars can't go to some towns because they always cop it there. bless you, it----" a stage-hand came up with a piece of paper in his hand. "young feller in spectacles and a rum sort o' suit give me this for your 'ighness." the prince snatched it from his hand. the note was written in a round, boyish hand. it was signed, "a friend." it ran:--"the men who booed you to-night were sent for that purpose by general vodkakoff, who is jealous of you because of the paragraphs in the _encore_ this week." prince otto became suddenly calm. "excuse me, your highness," said the stage-manager anxiously, as he moved, "you can't go round to the front. stand by, bill." "right, sir!" said the stage-hands. prince otto smiled pleasantly. "there is no danger. i do not intend to go to the front. i am going to look in at the scotch stores for a moment." "oh, in that case, your highness, good-night, your highness! better luck to-morrow, your highness!" * * * * * it had been the custom of the two generals, since they had joined the music-hall profession, to go, after their turn, to the scotch stores, where they stood talking and blocking the gangway, as etiquette demands that a successful artiste shall. the prince had little doubt but that he would find vodkakoff there to-night. he was right. the russian general was there, chatting affably across the counter about the weather. he nodded at the prince with a well-assumed carelessness. "go well to-night?" he inquired casually. prince otto clenched his fists; but he had had a rigorously diplomatic up-bringing, and knew how to keep a hold on himself. when he spoke it was in the familiar language of diplomacy. "the rain has stopped," he said, "but the pavements are still wet underfoot. has your grace taken the precaution to come out in a good stout pair of boots?" the shaft plainly went home, but the grand duke's manner, as he replied, was unruffled. "rain," he said, sipping his vermouth, "is always wet; but sometimes it is cold as well." "but it never falls upwards," said the prince, pointedly. "rarely, i understand. your powers of observation are keen, my dear prince." there was a silence; then the prince, momentarily baffled, returned to the attack. "the quickest way to get from charing cross to hammersmith broadway," he said, "is to go by underground." "men have died in hammersmith broadway," replied the grand duke suavely. the prince gritted his teeth. he was no match for his slippery adversary in a diplomatic dialogue, and he knew it. "the sun rises in the east," he cried, half-choking, "but it sets--it sets!" "so does a hen," was the cynical reply. the last remnants of the prince's self-control were slipping away. this elusive, diplomatic conversation is a terrible strain if one is not in the mood for it. its proper setting is the gay, glittering ball-room at some frivolous court. to a man who has just got the bird at a music-hall, and who is trying to induce another man to confess that the thing was his doing, it is little short of maddening. "hen!" he echoed, clenching and unclenching his fists. "have you studied the habits of hens?" the truth seemed very near to him now, but the master-diplomat before him was used to extracting himself from awkward corners. "pullets with a southern exposure," he drawled, "have yellow legs and ripen quickest." the prince was nonplussed. he had no answer. the girl behind the bar spoke. "you do talk silly, you two!" she said. it was enough. trivial as the remark was, it was the last straw. the prince brought his fist down with a crash on the counter. "yes," he shouted, "you are right. we do talk silly; but we shall do so no longer. i am tired of this verbal fencing. a plain answer to a plain question. did you or did you not send your troops to give me the bird to-night?" "my dear prince!" the grand duke raised his eyebrows. "did you or did you not?" "the wise man," said the russian, still determined on evasion, "never takes sides, unless they are sides of bacon." the prince smashed a glass. "you did!" he roared. "i know you did! listen to me! i'll give you one chance. i'll give you and your precious soldiers twenty-four hours from midnight to-night to leave this country. if you are still here then----" he paused dramatically. the grand duke slowly drained his vermouth. "have you seen my professional advertisement in the _era_, my dear prince?" he asked. "i have. what of it?" "you noticed nothing about it?" "i did not." "ah. if you had looked more closely, you would have seen the words, 'permanent address, hampstead.'" "you mean----" "i mean that i see no occasion to alter that advertisement in any way." there was another tense silence. the two men looked hard at each other. "that is your final decision?" said the german. the russian bowed. "so be it," said the prince, turning to the door. "i have the honour to wish you a very good night." "the same to you," said the grand duke. "mind the step." chapter the great battle the news that an open rupture had occurred between the generals of the two invading armies was not slow in circulating. the early editions of the evening papers were full of it. a symposium of the opinions of dr. emil reich, dr. saleeby, sandow, mr. chiozza money, and lady grove was hastily collected. young men with knobbly and bulging foreheads were turned on by their editors to write character-sketches of the two generals. all was stir and activity. meanwhile, those who look after london's public amusements were busy with telephone and telegraph. the quarrel had taken place on friday night. it was probable that, unless steps were taken, the battle would begin early on saturday. which, it did not require a man of unusual intelligence to see, would mean a heavy financial loss to those who supplied london with its saturday afternoon amusements. the matinees would suffer. the battle might not affect the stalls and dress-circle, perhaps, but there could be no possible doubt that the pit and gallery receipts would fall off terribly. to the public which supports the pit and gallery of a theatre there is an irresistible attraction about a fight on anything like a large scale. when one considers that a quite ordinary street-fight will attract hundreds of spectators, it will be plainly seen that no theatrical entertainment could hope to compete against so strong a counter-attraction as a battle between the german and russian armies. the various football-grounds would be heavily hit, too. and there was to be a monster roller-skating carnival at olympia. that also would be spoiled. a deputation of amusement-caterers hurried to the two camps within an hour of the appearance of the first evening paper. they put their case plainly and well. the generals were obviously impressed. messages passed and repassed between the two armies, and in the end it was decided to put off the outbreak of hostilities till monday morning. * * * * * satisfactory as this undoubtedly was for the theatre-managers and directors of football clubs, it was in some ways a pity. from the standpoint of the historian it spoiled the whole affair. but for the postponement, readers of this history might--nay, would--have been able to absorb a vivid and masterly account of the great struggle, with a careful description of the tactics by which victory was achieved. they would have been told the disposition of the various regiments, the stratagems, the dashing advances, the skilful retreats, and the lessons of the war. as it is, owing to the mistaken good-nature of the rival generals, the date of the fixture was changed, and practically all that a historian can do is to record the result. a slight mist had risen as early as four o'clock on saturday. by night-fall the atmosphere was a little dense, but the lamp-posts were still clearly visible at a distance of some feet, and nobody, accustomed to living in london, would have noticed anything much out of the common. it was not till sunday morning that the fog proper really began. london awoke on sunday to find the world blanketed in the densest, yellowest london particular that had been experienced for years. it was the sort of day when the city clerk has the exhilarating certainty that at last he has an excuse for lateness which cannot possibly be received with harsh disbelief. people spent the day indoors and hoped it would clear up by tomorrow. "they can't possibly fight if it's like this," they told each other. but on the monday morning the fog was, if possible, denser. it wrapped london about as with a garment. people shook their heads. "they'll have to put it off," they were saying, when of a sudden--_boom!_ and, again, _boom!_ it was the sound of heavy guns. the battle had begun! * * * * * one does not wish to grumble or make a fuss, but still it does seem a little hard that a battle of such importance, a battle so outstanding in the history of the world, should have been fought under such conditions. london at that moment was richer than ever before in descriptive reporters. it was the age of descriptive reporters, of vivid pen-pictures. in every newspaper office there were men who could have hauled up their slacks about that battle in a way that would have made a y.m.c.a. lecturer want to get at somebody with a bayonet; men who could have handed out the adjectives and exclamation-marks till you almost heard the roar of the guns. and there they were--idle, supine--like careened battleships. they were helpless. bart kennedy did start an article which began, "fog. black fog. and the roar of guns. two nations fighting in the fog," but it never came to anything. it was promising for a while, but it died of inanition in the middle of the second stick. it was hard. the lot of the actual war-correspondents was still worse. it was useless for them to explain that the fog was too thick to give them a chance. "if it's light enough for them to fight," said their editors remorselessly, "it's light enough for you to watch them." and out they had to go. they had a perfectly miserable time. edgar wallace seems to have lost his way almost at once. he was found two days later in an almost starving condition at steeple bumpstead. how he got there nobody knows. he said he had set out to walk to where the noise of the guns seemed to be, and had gone on walking. bennett burleigh, that crafty old campaigner, had the sagacity to go by tube. this brought him to hampstead, the scene, it turned out later, of the fiercest operations, and with any luck he might have had a story to tell. but the lift stuck half-way up, owing to a german shell bursting in its neighbourhood, and it was not till the following evening that a search-party heard and rescued him. the rest--a. g. hales, frederick villiers, charles hands, and the others--met, on a smaller scale, the same fate as edgar wallace. hales, starting for tottenham, arrived in croydon, very tired, with a nail in his boot. villiers, equally unlucky, fetched up at richmond. the most curious fate of all was reserved for charles hands. as far as can be gathered, he got on all right till he reached leicester square. there he lost his bearings, and seems to have walked round and round shakespeare's statue, under the impression that he was going straight to tottenham. after a day and a-half of this he sat down to rest, and was there found, when the fog had cleared, by a passing policeman. and all the while the unseen guns boomed and thundered, and strange, thin shoutings came faintly through the darkness. chapter the triumph of england it was the afternoon of wednesday, september the sixteenth. the battle had been over for twenty-four hours. the fog had thinned to a light lemon colour. it was raining. by now the country was in possession of the main facts. full details were not to be expected, though it is to the credit of the newspapers that, with keen enterprise, they had at once set to work to invent them, and on the whole had not done badly. broadly, the facts were that the russian army, outmanoeuvered, had been practically annihilated. of the vast force which had entered england with the other invaders there remained but a handful. these, the grand duke vodkakoff among them, were prisoners in the german lines at tottenham. the victory had not been gained bloodlessly. not a fifth of the german army remained. it is estimated that quite two-thirds of each army must have perished in that last charge of the germans up the hampstead heights, which ended in the storming of jack straw's castle and the capture of the russian general. * * * * * prince otto of saxe-pfennig lay sleeping in his tent at tottenham. he was worn out. in addition to the strain of the battle, there had been the heavy work of seeing the interviewers, signing autograph-books, sitting to photographers, writing testimonials for patent medicines, and the thousand and one other tasks, burdensome but unavoidable, of the man who is in the public eye. also he had caught a bad cold during the battle. a bottle of ammoniated quinine lay on the table beside him now as he slept. * * * * * as he lay there the flap of the tent was pulled softly aside. two figures entered. each was dressed in a flat-brimmed hat, a coloured handkerchief, a flannel shirt, football shorts, stockings, brown boots, and a whistle. each carried a hockey-stick. one, however, wore spectacles and a look of quiet command which showed that he was the leader. they stood looking at the prostrate general for some moments. then the spectacled leader spoke. "scout-master wagstaff." the other saluted. "wake him!" scout-master wagstaff walked to the side of the bed, and shook the sleeper's shoulder. the prince grunted, and rolled over on to his other side. the scout-master shook him again. he sat up, blinking. as his eyes fell on the quiet, stern, spectacled figure, he leaped from the bed. "what--what--what," he stammered. "what's the beadig of this?" he sneezed as he spoke, and, turning to the table, poured out and drained a bumper of ammoniated quinine. "i told the sedtry pardicularly not to let adybody id. who are you?" the intruder smiled quietly. "my name is clarence chugwater," he said simply. "jugwater? dod't doe you frob adab. what do you want? if you're forb sub paper, i cad't see you now. cub to-borrow bordig." "i am from no paper." "thed you're wud of these photographers. i tell you, i cad't see you." "i am no photographer." "thed what are you?" the other drew himself up. "i am england," he said with a sublime gesture. "igglud! how do you bead you're igglud? talk seds." clarence silenced him with a frown. "i say i am england. i am the chief scout, and the scouts are england. prince otto, you thought this england of ours lay prone and helpless. you were wrong. the boy scouts were watching and waiting. and now their time has come. scout-master wagstaff, do your duty." the scout-master moved forward. the prince, bounding to the bed, thrust his hand under the pillow. clarence's voice rang out like a trumpet. "cover that man!" the prince looked up. two feet away scout-master wagstaff was standing, catapult in hand, ready to shoot. "he is never known to miss," said clarence warningly. the prince wavered. "he has broken more windows than any other boy of his age in south london." the prince sullenly withdrew his hand--empty. "well, whad do you wad?" he snarled. "resistance is useless," said clarence. "the moment i have plotted and planned for has come. your troops, worn out with fighting, mere shadows of themselves, have fallen an easy prey. an hour ago your camp was silently surrounded by patrols of boy scouts, armed with catapults and hockey-sticks. one rush and the battle was over. your entire army, like yourself, are prisoners." "the diggids they are!" said the prince blankly. "england, my england!" cried clarence, his face shining with a holy patriotism. "england, thou art free! thou hast risen from the ashes of the dead self. let the nations learn from this that it is when apparently crushed that the briton is to more than ever be feared." "thad's bad grabbar," said the prince critically. "it isn't," said clarence with warmth. "it _is_, i tell you. id's a splid idfididive." clarence's eyes flashed fire. "i don't want any of your beastly cheek," he said. "scout-master wagstaff, remove your prisoner." "all the sabe," said the prince, "id _is_ a splid idfididive." clarence pointed silently to the door. "and you doe id is," persisted the prince. "and id's spoiled your big sbeech. id--" "come on, can't you," interrupted scout-master wagstaff. "i _ab_ cubbing, aren't i? i was odly saying--" "i'll give you such a whack over the shin with this hockey-stick in a minute!" said the scout-master warningly. "come _on_!" the prince went. chapter clarence--the last phase the brilliantly-lighted auditorium of the palace theatre. everywhere a murmur and stir. the orchestra is playing a selection. in the stalls fair women and brave men converse in excited whispers. one catches sentences here and there. "quite a boy, i believe!" "how perfectly sweet!" "'pon honour, lady gussie, i couldn't say. bertie bertison, of the bachelors', says a feller told him it was a clear thousand." "do you hear that? mr. bertison says that this boy is getting a thousand a week." "why, that's more than either of those horrid generals got." "it's a lot of money, isn't it?" "of course, he did save the country, didn't he?" "you may depend they wouldn't give it him if he wasn't worth it." "met him last night at the duchess's hop. seems a decent little chap. no side and that, if you know what i mean. hullo, there's his number!" the orchestra stops. the number is displayed. a burst of applause, swelling into a roar as the curtain rises. a stout man in crinkled evening-dress walks on to the stage. "ladies and gentlemen," he says, "i 'ave the 'onour to-night to introduce to you one whose name is, as the saying goes, a nouse'old word. it is thanks to 'im, to this 'ero whom i 'ave the 'onour to introduce to you to-night, that our beloved england no longer writhes beneath the ruthless 'eel of the alien oppressor. it was this 'ero's genius--and, i may say--er--i may say genius--that, unaided, 'it upon the only way for removing the cruel conqueror from our beloved 'earths and 'omes. it was this 'ero who, 'aving first allowed the invaders to claw each other to 'ash (if i may be permitted the expression) after the well-known precedent of the kilkenny cats, thereupon firmly and without flinching, stepped bravely in with his fellow-'eros--need i say i allude to our gallant boy scouts?--and dexterously gave what-for in no uncertain manner to the few survivors who remained." here the orator bowed, and took advantage of the applause to replenish his stock of breath. when his face had begun to lose the purple tinge, he raised his hand. "i 'ave only to add," he resumed, "that this 'ero is engaged exclusively by the management of the palace theatre of varieties, at a figure previously undreamed of in the annals of the music-hall stage. he is in receipt of the magnificent weekly salary of no less than one thousand one 'undred and fifty pounds a week." thunderous applause. "i 'ave little more to add. this 'ero will first perform a few of those physical exercises which have made our boy scouts what they are, such as deep breathing, twisting the right leg firmly round the neck, and hopping on one foot across the stage. he will then give an exhibition of the various calls and cries of the boy scouts--all, as you doubtless know, skilful imitations of real living animals. in this connection i 'ave to assure you that he 'as nothing whatsoever in 'is mouth, as it 'as been sometimes suggested. in conclusion he will deliver a short address on the subject of 'is great exploits. ladies and gentlemen, i have finished, and it only now remains for me to retire, 'aving duly announced to you england's darling son, the country's 'ero, the nation's proudest possession--clarence chugwater." a moment's breathless suspense, a crash from the orchestra, and the audience are standing on their seats, cheering, shouting, stamping. a small sturdy, spectacled figure is on the stage. it is clarence, the boy of destiny. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustration. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) the boy scouts of lenox or the hike over big bear mountain by frank v. webster author of "only a farm boy," "ben hardy's flying machine," "the boy from the ranch," etc. illustrated [illustration: they hoisted him to the limb, where he clung watching the next rescue. _page ._] new york cupples & leon company publishers * * * * * books for boys by frank v. webster mo. cloth. illustrated. only a farm boy tom, the telephone boy the boy from the ranch the young treasurer hunter bob, the castaway the young firemen of lakeville the newsboy partners the boy pilot of the lakes the two boy gold miners jack, the runaway comrades of the saddle the boys of bellwood school the high school rivals bob chester's grit airship andy darry, the life saver dick, the bank boy ben hardy's flying machine the boys of the wireless harry watson's high school days the boy scouts of lenox tom taylor at west point cowboy dave the boys of the battleship jack of the pony express cupples & leon co., publishers, new york * * * * * copyright, , by cupples & leon company the boy scouts of lenox printed in u. s. a. contents chapter page i. when the seed took root ii. the man who loved nature iii. a cloud over the oskamp home iv. the defiance of dock phillips v. the black bear patrol vi. setting the trap vii. dock goes from bad to worse viii. signs of trouble ahead ix. no surrender x. ready for the start xi. on the way xii. the first camp-fire xiii. the life that might have been saved xiv. at the foot of big bear mountain xv. not guilty xvi. what to do in a storm xvii. the landslide xviii. camping on the lake shore xix. friends of the deer xx. first aid to the injured xxi. scout grit xxii. the cabin in the woods xxiii. into the great bog xxiv. returning good for evil xxv. when carl came home--conclusion the boy scouts of lenox chapter i when the seed took root "i move we go into it, fellows!" "it strikes me as a cracking good idea, all right, and i'm glad tom stirred us up after he came back from visiting his cousins over in freeport!" "he says they've got a dandy troop, with three full patrols, over there." "no reason, felix, why lenox should be left out in the cold when it comes to boy scout activities. let's keep the ball rolling until it's a sure thing." "i say the same, josh. why, we can count about enough noses for a full patrol right among ourselves. there's tom chesney to begin with; george cooper here, who ought to make a pretty fair scout even if he is always finding fault; carl oskamp, also present, if we can only tear him away from his hobby of raising homing pigeons long enough to study up what scouts have to know; yourself, josh kingsley; and a fellow by the name of felix robbins, which happens to be me." "that's five to begin with; and i might mention billy button; yes, and walter douglass, though i guess he'd take the premium for a tenderfoot, because he knows next to nothing about outdoor life." "but he's willing to learn, because he told me so, josh; and that counts a lot, you know. that makes seven doesn't it? well, to complete the roster of the patrol we might coax horace herkimer crapsey to cast in his lot with us!" the boy named josh laughed uproariously at the suggestion, and his merriment was shared to some extent by the other two, carl oskamp and george cooper. felix shook his head at them disapprovingly. "just go slow there, fellows," he told them. "because horace has always been so afraid of his soft white hands that he wears gloves most of the time isn't any reason why he shouldn't be made to see the error of his ways." "oh! felix means that if only we can coax horace to join, we _might_ reform him!" exclaimed josh, who was a thin and tall boy, with what might be called a hatchet face, typically yankee. "by the same token," chuckled felix in turn, "a few of us might drop some of our bad habits if once we subscribed to the rules of the scouts, because i've read the same in a newspaper. they rub it into fellows who find fault with things instead of being cheerful." "oh! is that so, felix?" burst out george cooper, who took that thrust to himself. "how about others who are lazy, and always wanting to put things off to another day? do those same rules say 'procrastination is the thief of time?'" "well boys," remarked carl oskamp, pouring oil on the troubled water as was his habit, "we've all got our faults, and it might be a good thing if joining the scouts made us change our ways more or less. there comes tom, now, let's get him to tell us something more about the chance for starting a troop in lenox right away." "he said he believed he knew a young man who might consent to act as scout master," observed felix. "it's mr. robert witherspoon, the civil engineer and surveyor." "why, yes, i believe he used to be a scout master in the town he came from!" declared carl. "i hope tom is bringing us some good news right now." "if that look on his face counts for anything, he's going to give us a chance to let out a few cheers," asserted felix, as the fifth boy drew near. it was a friday afternoon near the close of winter when this conversation took place. school was over for the week, and as there was an unmistakable feeling of coming spring in the air the snow on the ground seemed to be in haste to melt and disappear. every now and then one of the boys would be overcome by an irresistible temptation to stoop, gather up enough of the soft clinging snow to make a hard ball, which was thrown with more or less success at some tree or other object. the town of lenox was just one of many in the eastern section of the great united states, and boasted a few thousand inhabitants, some industries, a high school, and various churches. in lenox the boys were no different from those to be found in every like community. they had a baseball club that vied with rival schools in spirited contests, a football organization, and in fact almost every element that might be expected to thrive in the midst of a lively community. there was, however, one thing in which the boys of lenox seemed to have been lacking, and this had been brought home to them when tom chesney came back from his recent visit to freeport, some twenty miles away. somehow the growing fever among boys to organize scout troops had not broken out very early in lenox; but if late in coming it bade fair to make up for lost time by its fierce burning. the boy who now joined the four whose chatter we have just recorded was a healthy looking chap. there was something positive about tom chesney that had always made him a leader with his comrades. at the same time he was never known to assume any airs or to dictate; which was all the more reason why his chums loved him. "what luck, tom?" demanded josh, as soon as the newcomer joined the others. "it's all fixed," was the quick answer given by tom, who evidently did not believe in beating about the bush. "good for you!" cried felix. "then mr. witherspoon is willing to organize the lenox troop of boy scouts, is he, tom?" "he said he would be glad to have a hand in it," replied the other, "his only regret being that as he is often called out of town he might not be able to give the matter all the attention he would like." "that's great news anyhow, tom!" declared josh, beaming with satisfaction. "we've just been figuring things out, and believe we can find eight fellows who would be willing to make up the first patrol." "we would need that many for a starter," commented tom; "because according to the rules he tells me there must be at least one full patrol before a troop can be started. and i'm glad you can figure on enough. it's going to make it a success from the start." "there's yourself to begin with," remarked josh, counting with his fingers; "felix, walter douglass, george here, billy button, horace crapsey, carl and myself, making the eight we need for a patrol." "i'm glad you're all anxious to join," said tom, glancing from one eager face to the other, as they walked slowly down the street in a group. "why, so far as that goes, tom," ventured felix robbins, "most of us are counting the days before we can be wearing our khaki suits and climbing up out of the tenderfoot bunch to that of second-class scout. only carl here seems to be kind of holding back; though none of us can see why he should want to go and leave his old chums in the lurch." at that tom gave carl another look a little more searching than his first. he was immediately struck by the fact that carl did not seem as happy as usual. he and tom had been close chums for years. that fact made tom wonder why the other had not taken him into his confidence, if there was anything wrong. carl must have known that the eyes of his chum were upon him for he flushed, and then looked hastily up. "oh! it isn't that i wouldn't be mighty glad of the chance to go into this thing with the rest of you," he hastened to say; "don't believe that i'm getting tired of my old chums. it isn't that at all. but something has happened to make me think i may be kept so busy that i'd have no time to give to studying up scout laws and attending meetings." "oh! forget it all, carl, and come in with us," urged josh, laying a hand affectionately on the other's shoulder. "if it's anything where we can help, you know as well as you do your own name that there isn't a fellow but would lay himself out to stand back of you. isn't that so, boys?" three other voices instantly joined in to declare that they would only be glad of the opportunity to show carl how much they appreciated him. it always touches a boy to find out how much his chums think of him. there was a suspicious moisture about carl's eyes as he smiled and nodded his head when replying. "that's nice of you, fellows. but after all perhaps i may see my way clear to joining the troop. i hope so, anyway, and i'll try my best to make the riffle. now tom, tell us all mr. witherspoon said." "yes, we want to know what we'd have to do the first thing," added josh, who was about as quick to start things as felix robbins was slow. "i sent off and got a scout manual. it came last night, and i'm soaking up the contents at a great rate." "that was why i saw a light over in your room late last night, was it?" george cooper demanded. "burning the midnight oil. must have been interesting reading, seems to me, josh." "i could hardly tear myself away from the book," responded the other boy. "after to-night i'll loan it to the rest of you, though i guess tom must have got one from mr. witherspoon, for i see something bulging in his pocket." tom laughed at that. "josh," he said, "it's very plain to me that you will make a pretty clever scout, because you've got the habit of observing things down to a fine point. and if you've read as much as you say, of course you know that one of the first things a tenderfoot has to do is to remember to keep his eyes about him, and see things." "yes," added josh, eagerly, "one test is for each boy to stand in front of a store window for just two minutes, making a mental map of the same, and then go off to jot down as many objects as he can remember to have seen there." "that's quite a stunt," remarked felix thoughtfully; "and i reckon the one who can figure out the biggest number of articles goes up head in the class. i must remember and practice that game. it strikes me as worth while." "listen to the row up there, will you?" burst out george cooper just then. "why, that lot of boys seems to be having a snowball fight, don't they? hello! it isn't a battle after all, but they're pelting somebody or other. see how the balls fly like a flock of pigeons from carl's coop!" "it looks like a man they're bombarding!" ejaculated felix. "you're right about that, and an old man in the bargain," added tom as he quickened his steps involuntarily; "i can see that bully tony pollock leading the lot; yes, and the other fellows must be his cronies, wedge mcguffey and asa green." "see the poor old fellow try to dodge the balls!" exclaimed josh. "they're making them like ice too, and i wouldn't put it past that lot to pack a stone in each snowball in the bargain. they'd be equal to anything." "are we going to stand by and see that sport go on, boys?" asked carl as he shut his jaws tight together, and the light of indignation shone in his eyes. "we wouldn't be fit to wear the khaki of scouts if we did, fellows!" cried tom chesney. "come on, and let's give them a taste of their own medicine," and with loud shouts the five comrades started to gather up the snow as they chased pell-mell toward the scene of excitement. chapter ii the man who loved nature "give it to them, boys!" josh was shouting as he started to send his first ball straight at the group of busy tormentors who were showering the helpless old man with their icy balls that must have stung almost as much as so many rocks. he seemed to be lame, for while he tried to advance toward the young rascals waving his stout cane wildly, they had no difficulty in keeping a safe distance off, and continuing the cruel bombardment. the smashing of that ball flung by josh, who was pitcher on the lenox baseball team, and a fine shot, was the first intimation the three tormentors of the old man had that the tables had been turned. "hey! look here what's on to us!" shrilled one of the trio, as he felt the sudden shock caused by the first snowball striking the back of his head. upon that the bully of the town and his two allies were forced to turn and try to defend themselves against this assault from the rear. they fought desperately for a very short time, but their hands were already half frozen, and five against three proved too great odds for their valor. besides, every time josh let fly he managed to land on some part of the person of tony pollock or one of his cronies. and those hard balls when driven by the sturdy arm of the baseball pitcher stung mercilessly. the old man stood and watched, with something like a smile on his face. he seemed to have forgotten all about his own recent predicament in seeing these young rowdies receiving their just dues. if he had not been old and lame possibly he might have insisted on joining in the fray, and adding to the punishment being meted out to the three cowardly boys. once a retreat was begun, it quickly merged into a regular panic. tom stayed to talk to the old man while his comrades pursued the fleeing trio, and peppered them good and hard. when finally they felt that they had amply vindicated their right to be reckoned worthy candidates for scout membership they came back, laughing heartily among themselves, to where tom and the old man were standing. "why, i've seen that old fellow before," josh remarked in a low tone as he and carl, george and felix drew near. "his name is larry henderson, and they say he's something of a hermit, living away up in the woods beyond bear mountain." "sure thing," added felix, instantly; "i've heard my folks talking about him lots of times. he does a little trapping, they say, but spends most of his time studying animated nature. he knows every animal that ever lived on this continent, and the birds and insects too, i reckon. he's as smart as they make 'em, and used to be a college professor some people say, even if he does talk a little rough now." for some reason all of them were feeling more or less interest in the man who walked with a cane. perhaps this arose from the fact that of late they had become enthusiastic over everything connected with woodcraft. and the fact that mr. henderson was acquainted with a thousand secrets about the interesting things to be discovered in the great outdoors appealed strongly to them. "these are my chums, mr. henderson," said tom, when the others came up; and as the name of each one was mentioned the hermit of bear mountain grasped his hand, giving a squeeze that made some of the boys wince. "i'm glad to meet you all," he said, heartily. "it was worth being attacked by that lot of rowdies just to get acquainted with such a fine lot of boys. and i want to say that you gave them all the punishment they deserved. i counted hits until i lost all track of the number." "yes," said felix, with a grin on his freckled face; "they're rubbing many a sore spot right now, i reckon. josh here, who's our star pitcher on the nine, never wasted a single ball. and i could hear the same fairly whistle through the air." "gosh all hemlock! felix," objected the boy mentioned, "you're stretching things pretty wide, aren't you? now i guess the rest of you did your share in the good work, just as much as i." "all the same i'm thankful for your coming to my assistance," said mr. henderson. "my rheumatism kept me from being as spry in dodging their cannonade as i might have been some years ago. and one ball that broke against that tree had a stone inside it, i'm sorry to say. we would have called that unsportsmanlike in my young days." "only the meanest kind of a fellow would descend to such a trick!" exclaimed the indignant josh; "but then tony pollock and his crowd are ready to do anything low-down and crooked. they'll never be able to join our scout troop, after we get it started." "what's that you are saying?" asked the old man, showing sudden interest. "why, you see, sir," explained josh, always ready to do his share of talking if given half a chance, "our chum here, tom chesney, was visiting his cousins over in freeport, and got interested in their scout troop. so we've taken the thing up, and expect to start the ball rolling right away." "it happens," tom went on, "that there is a young man in town who once served as scout master in a troop, and i've just had him promise to come around to-night and tell us what we've got to do to get the necessary charter from scout headquarters." "you interest me very much, boys," said mr. henderson, his eyes sparkling as he spoke. "i have read considerable about the wonderful progress this new movement is making all over the land; and i want to say that i like the principles it advocates. boys have known too little in the past of how to take care of themselves at all times, and also be ready to lend a helping hand to others." "the camping out, and finding all sorts of queer things in the woods is what makes me want to join a troop!" said josh; "because i always did love to fish and hunt, and get off in the mountains away from everybody." "that's a good foundation to start on," remarked the hermit, with kindling eyes, as he looked from one eager face to another; "but i imagine that after you've been a scout for a short time your ideas will begin to change considerably." "how, sir?" asked josh, looking unconvinced. "well," continued the old man, softly, "you'll find such enjoyment in _observing_ the habits of all the little woods folks that by degrees the fierce desire you have now to slay them will grow colder. in the end most of you will consider it ten times better to sit and watch them at their labors or play than to slaughter them in sport, or even to kill them for food." "but mr. henderson," said josh, boldly, "i've heard that you trap animals for their pelts; and i guess you must knock a few over when you feel like having game for dinner, don't you?" "occasionally i go out and get a rabbit or a partridge, though not often," admitted the old man; "and as for my trapping, i only try to take such animals or vermin as are cruel in their nature and seem to be a pest to the innocent things i'm so fond of having around me. i wish you boys could visit my cabin some time or other, and make the acquaintance of my innumerable pets. they look on me as their best friend, and i would never dream of raising a hand to injure them. kindness to animals, i believe, is one of the cardinal principles of a true scout." "yes, sir, that's what it is," responded josh, eagerly. "i've got the whole twelve points of scout law on the tip of my tongue right now. here's what they are: a scout has got to be trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent." "whew! that's going some!" declared felix, who being prone to put things off to a more convenient season could readily see that he was sure to run up against a good many snags if he tried to keep the scout law. "then you can easily understand," continued mr. henderson, "what a treasure-house the woods is going to be to every observing boy who spends some time there, and becomes interested in seeing all that is going on around him." "i'm sure of that, sir," responded tom, earnestly. "i know for one that i've never paid a quarter of the attention to such things as i ought to have done." "no, you are right there, my lad," the hermit continued, being evidently on a favorite subject, "the average boy can walk through a mile of forest and hardly notice anything around him. in fact, he may even decide that it's only a gloomy place, and outside the cawing of the crows or perhaps an occasional squirrel at which he shies a stone he has heard and seen nothing." "then it's different with a scout, is it, sir?" asked george cooper. "if he has been aroused to take a keen interest in nature the same woods will be alive with interesting things," the other told them. "he will see the shy little denizens peeping curiously out at him from a cover of leaves, and hear their low excited chattering as they tell each other what they think of him. every tree and moss-covered stone and swinging wild grape-vine will tell a story; and afterwards that boy is going to wonder how he ever could have been content to remain in such dense ignorance as he did for years." "mr. henderson do you expect to remain in town over night?" asked tom, suddenly. "why yes, i shall have to stay until to-morrow," came the reply; "i am stopping with my old friend, judge stone. we attended the same red school house on the hill a great many years ago. my stock of provisions ran short sooner than i had counted on, and this compelled me to come down earlier than usual. as a rule i deal over in fairmount, but this time it was more convenient to come here. why do you ask, tom?" "i was wondering whether you could be coaxed to come around to-night, and meet the rest of the boys," the boy told him. "we expect to have a dozen present, and when mr. witherspoon is explaining what a scout must subscribe to in joining a troop, it might influence some of the fellows if you would tell them a few things like those you were just describing to us." the old naturalist looked at the eager faces of the five lads, and a smile came over his own countenance. undoubtedly he was a lover of and believer in boys, no matter whether he had ever had any of his own or not. "i shall be only too pleased to come around, tom; if judge stone can run his car by moonlight. tell me where the meeting is to take place." "the deacons of the church have promised to let us have a room in the basement, which has a stove in it. the meeting will be at eight o'clock, sir," tom informed him. "i hope to be there and listen to what goes on," said the hermit. "and after all i'm not sorry those vicious boys thought to bombard me the way they did, since it has given me the opportunity to get acquainted with such a fine lot of lads. but i see my friend, the judge, coming with his car, and i'll say good-bye to you all for the present." he waved his hand to them as he rode away beside the white-bearded judge, who was one of the most highly respected citizens of lenox. "well, he's a mighty fine sort of an old party, for a fact!" declared george, as they looked after the receding car; nor did he mean the slightest disrespect in speaking in this fashion of the interesting old man they had met in such a strange way. "i'd give something if only i could visit mr. henderson at his cabin," remarked felix; "i reckon he must have a heap of things worth seeing in his collection." "who knows," said tom, cheerily, "but what some good luck might take us up that way one of these fine days." "let's hope so," added josh, as they once more started toward home. chapter iii a cloud over the oskamp home tom and carl walked along together after the other three boys had dropped off at various stages, taking short-cuts for their homes, as supper-time was approaching. "what's gone wrong, carl?" asked tom, as he flung an arm across the shoulders of his closest chum. "i was meaning to tell you about it, tom," explained the other, quickly; "but somehow i kept holding back. it seemed as if i ought to find a way of solving that queer mystery myself. but only this morning i decided to ask you to help me." his words aroused the curiosity of the other boy more than ever. "what's this you're talking about?" he exclaimed. "a mystery is there now, carl? why, i thought it might all be about that coming around so often of mr. amasa culpepper, who not only keeps the grocery store but is a sort of shyster lawyer, and a money lender as well. everybody says he's smitten with your mother, and wants to be a second father to you and your sisters and brothers." "well that used to worry me a whole lot," admitted carl, frankly, "until i asked my mother if she cared any for amasa. she laughed at me, and said that if he was the last man on earth she would never dream of marrying him. in fact, she never expected to stop being john oskamp's widow. so since then i only laugh when i see old amasa coming around and fetching big bouquets of flowers from his garden, which he must hate to pull, he's so miserly." "then what else has cropped up to bother you, carl?" asked tom. the other heaved a long-drawn sigh. "my mother is worried half sick over it!" he explained; "she's hunted every bit of the house over several times; and i've scoured the garden again and again, but we don't seem to be able to locate it at all. it's the queerest thing where it could have disappeared to so suddenly." "yes, but you haven't told me what it is?" remarked tom. "a paper, tom, a most valuable paper that my mother carelessly left on the table in the sitting room day before yesterday." "what kind of a paper was it?" asked tom, who always liked to get at the gist of things in the start. "why, it was a paper that meant considerable to my mother," explained carl. "my father once invested in some shares of oil stock. the certificate of stock was in the safe keeping of amasa culpepper, who had given a receipt for the same, and a promise to hand over the original certificate when this paper was produced." "and you say the receipt disappeared from the table in your sitting room, without anybody knowing what became of it?" asked tom. "yes," replied carl. "this is how it came about. lately we received word that the company had struck some gushers in the way of wells, and that the stock my father had bought for a few cents a share is worth a mint of money now. it was through amasa culpepper my mother first learned about this, and she wrote to the company to find out." "oh! i see," chuckled tom, "and when mr. culpepper learned that there was a chance of your mother becoming rich, his unwelcome attentions became more pronounced than ever; isn't that so, carl?" "i think you're right, tom," said the other boy, but without smiling, for he carried too heavy a load on his mind to feel merry. "you see my mother had hunted up this precious receipt, and had it handy, meaning to go over to mr. culpepper's office in the forenoon and ask for the certificate of stock he has in his safe." "so she laid it on the table, did she?" pursued tom, shaking his head. "don't you think that it was a little careless, carl, in your mother, to do that?" "she can't forgive herself for doing it," replied his chum, sadly. "she says that it just shows how few women have any business qualities about them, and that she misses my father more and more every day that she lives. but none of the other children touched the paper. angus, elsie and dot have told her so straight; and it's a puzzle to know what did become of it." "you spoke of hunting in the garden and around the outside of the house; why should you do that?" "it happened that one of the sitting room windows was open half a foot that day. the weather had grown mild you remember," explained the other. "and you kind of had an idea the paper might have blown out through that open window, was that it?" "it looked like it to me," answered the widow's son, frowning; "but if that was what happened the wind carried it over the fence and far away, because i've not been able to find anything of it." "how long was it between the time your mother laid the paper on the table and the moment she missed it?" continued tom chesney. "just one full hour. she went from the breakfast table and got the paper out of her trunk. then when she had seen the children off to school, and dressed to go out it was gone. she said that was just a quarter to ten." "she's sure of that, is she?" demanded tom. "yes," replied carl, "because the grocer's boy always comes along at just a quarter after nine for his orders, and he had been gone more than twenty minutes." at that the other boy stopped still and looked fixedly at carl. "that grocer's boy is a fellow by the name of dock phillips, isn't he?" was what tom asked, as though with a purpose. "yes," carl replied. "and he works for mr. amasa culpepper, too!" continued tom, placing such a decided emphasis on these words that his companion started and stared in his face. "that's all true enough, tom, but tell me what you mean by saying that in the way you did? what could mr. culpepper have to do with the vanishing of that paper?" "oh! perhaps nothing at all," pursued the other, "but all the same he has more interest in its disappearance than any other person i can think of just now." "because his name was signed at the bottom, you mean, tom?" cried the startled carl. "just what it was," continued tom. "suppose your mother could never produce that receipt, mr. culpepper would be under no necessity of handing over any papers. i don't pretend to know much about such things, and so i can't tell just how he could profit by holding them. but even if he couldn't get them made over in his own name, he might keep your mother from becoming rich unless she agreed to marry him!" carl was so taken aback by this bold statement that he lost his breath for a brief period of time. "but tom, amasa culpepper wasn't in our house that morning?" he objected. "perhaps not, but dock phillips was, and he's a boy i'd hate to trust any further than i could see him," tom agreed. "do you think mr. culpepper could have hired dock to _steal_ the paper?" continued the sorely-puzzled carl. "well, hardly that. if dock took it he did the job on his own responsibility. perhaps he had a chance to glance at the paper and find out what it stood for, and in his cunning way figured that he might hold his employer up for a good sum if he gave him to understand he could produce that receipt." "yes, yes, i'm following you now, go on," implored the deeply interested carl. "here we are at your house, carl; suppose you ask me in. i'd like to find out if dock was left alone in the sitting room for even a minute that morning." "done!" cried the other, vehemently, as he pushed open the white gate, and led the way quickly along the snow-cleaned walk up to the front door. mrs. oskamp was surprised as she stood over the stove in the neat kitchen of her little cottage home when her oldest boy and his chum, tom chesney, whom she liked very much indeed, entered. their manner told her immediately that it was design and not accident that had brought them in together. "i've been telling tom, mother," said carl, after looking around and making certain that none of the other children were within earshot; "and he's struck what promises to be a clue that may explain the mystery we've been worrying over." "i'm pleased to hear you say so, son," the little woman with the rosy cheeks and the bright eyes told carl; "and if i can do anything to assist you please call on me without hesitation, tom." "what we want you to tell us, mother," continued carl, "is how long you left that dock phillips alone in the sitting room when he called for grocery orders on the morning that paper disappeared." mrs. oskamp looked wonderingly at them both. "i don't remember saying anything of that sort to you, carl," she presently remarked, slowly and with a puzzled expression on her pretty plump face. "but you _did_ leave him alone there, didn't you?" the boy persisted, as though something in her manner convinced him that he was on the track of a valuable clue. "well, yes, but it was not for more than two minutes," she replied. "there was a mistake in my last weekly bill, and i wanted dock to take it back to the store with him for correction. then i found i had left it in the pocket of the dress i wore the afternoon before, and so i went upstairs to get it." "two minutes would be plenty of time, wouldn't it, tom?" carl continued, turning on his chum. "he may have stepped up to the table to see what the paper was," tom theorized; "and discovering the name of amasa culpepper signed to it, considered it worth stealing. that may be wronging dock; but he has a bad reputation, you know, mrs. oskamp. my folks say they are surprised at mr. culpepper's employing him; but everybody knows he hates to pay out money, and i suppose he can get dock cheaper than he could most boys." "but what would the boy want to do with that paper?" asked the lady, helplessly. "why, mother," said carl, with a shrug of his shoulders as he looked toward his chum; "don't you see he may have thought he could tell mr. culpepper about it, and offer to hand over, or destroy the paper, for a certain amount of cash." "but that would be very wicked, son!" expostulated mrs. oskamp. "oh well, a little thing like that wouldn't bother tony pollock or dock phillips; and they're both of the same stripe. haven't we hunted high and low for that paper, and wondered where under the sun it could have gone? well, dock got it, i'm as sure now as that my name's carl oskamp. the only question that bothers me now is how can i make him give it up, or tell what he did with it." "if he took it, and has already handed it over to mr. culpepper, there's not a single chance in ten you'll ever see it again," tom asserted; "but we've got one thing in our favor." "i'm glad to hear that, tom," the little lady told him, for she had a great respect for the opinion of her son's chum; "tell us what it is, won't you?" "everybody knows how amasa culpepper is getting more and more stingy every year he lives," tom explained. "he hates to let a dollar go without squeezing it until it squeals, they say. well, if dock holds out for a fairly decent sum i expect amasa will keep putting him off, and try to make him come down in his price. that's our best chance of ever getting the paper back." "tom, i want you to go with me to-night and face dock phillips," said carl. "just as you say; we can look him up on our way to the meeting." chapter iv the defiance of dock phillips remembering his promise, tom called early for his chum. carl lived in a pretty little cottage with his mother, and three other children. there was angus, a little chap of five, dot just three, and elsie well turned seven. everybody liked to visit the oskamp home, there was such an air of contentment and happiness about the entire family, despite the fact that they missed the presence of the one who had long been their guide and protector. tom was an especial favorite with the three youngsters, and they were always ready for a romp with him when he came to spend an evening with his chum. on this occasion however tom did not get inside the house, for carl was on the lookout and hurried out of the door as soon as he heard the gate shut. "hello! seems to me you're in a big hurry to-night," laughed tom, when he saw the other slip out of the house and come down the path to meet him; "what's all the rush about, carl?" "why, you see i knew we meant to drop in at dock phillips' place, and we wouldn't want to be too late at the meeting if we happened to be held up there," was the explanation carl gave. as they hurried along they talked together, and of course much of their conversation was connected with this visit to dock. carl seemed hopeful of good results, but to tell the truth tom had his doubts. in the first place he was a better judge of human nature than his chum, and he knew that the phillips boy was stubborn, as well as vicious. if he were really guilty of having taken the paper he would be likely to deny it vehemently through thick and thin. knowing how apt carl was to become discouraged if things went against him very strongly, tom felt it was his duty to prepare the other for disappointment. "even if dock denies that he ever saw the paper, we mustn't let ourselves feel that this is the end of it, you know, carl," he started to say. "i'll be terribly disappointed, though, tom," admitted the other boy, with a sigh that told how he had lain awake much the last two nights trying to solve the puzzle that seemed to have no answer. "oh! that would only be natural," his chum told him, cheerily; "but you know if we expect to become scouts we must figure out what they would do under the same conditions, and act that way." "that's right, tom," agreed the other, bracing up. "tell me what a true-blue scout would figure out as his line of duty in case he ran up against a snag when his whole heart was set on doing a thing." "he'd just remember that old motto we used to write in our copybooks at school, and take it to heart--'if at first you don't succeed, try, try again!' and carl, a scout would keep on trying right along. he'd set his teeth together as firm as iron and say he'd solve that problem, or know the reason why." "tom, you know how to brace a weak-kneed fellow up all right." "but you're not that kind, carl. only in this case there's so much at stake you hardly do yourself justice. remember how grant went at it, and when he found that lee met all of his tactics so cleverly he got his back up and said he'd fight it out on that line if it took all summer." "i see what you mean, and i'm game enough to say the same thing!" declared the other, with a ring of resolution in his voice. tom felt wonderfully relieved. he knew that carl was capable of great things if only he succeeded in conquering his one little failing of seeing the gloomy side of passing events. "well, here we are at dock's place. it's not a particularly lovely home for any fellow, is it? but then his father is known to be a hard drinker, and the mother finds it a tough job to keep her family in clothes and food. my folks feel sorry for her, and do what they can at times to help her out, though she's too proud to ask for assistance." "dock promises to be as bad as his father, i'm afraid, only so far he hasn't taken to drinking," remarked carl. "there's some hope for him if only he keeps away from that," ventured tom. "but let's knock on the door." no sooner had his knuckles come in contact with the panel than there was a furious barking within. like most poor families the phillips evidently kept several dogs; indeed, dock had always been a great lover of animals, and liked to be strutting along the main street of lenox with a string of dogs tagging at his heels. a harsh voice was heard scolding the dogs, who relapsed into a grumbling and whining state of obedience. "that's dock himself," said carl. "they mind him all right, you see. i hope he opens the door for us, and not his father." just then the phillips door was drawn back. "hello! carl, and you too tom; what's up?" although dock tried to say this with extreme indifference tom saw that he was more or less startled at seeing them. in fact he immediately slipped outside, and closed the door behind him, as though he did not want his mother or any one else to overhear what might be said. this action was positive evidence to the mind of tom chesney that dock was guilty. his fears caused him to act without thinking. at the same time such evidence is never accepted in a court of law as circumstantial. if either of the two boys had ever called at the phillips' house before it must have been on account of some errand, and at the request of their mothers. dock might therefore be filled with curiosity to know why he had been honored with a visit. "we dropped around to have a few words with you, dock," said tom, who had made arrangements with his chum to manage the little interview, and had his plan of campaign all laid out in advance. "oh is that so?" sneered the other, now having had time to recover from the little shock which their sudden appearance had given him. "well, here i am, so hurry up with what you've got to say. i came home late from the store and i'm not done my supper yet." "we'll keep you only a few minutes at the most, dock," continued tom; "you take the orders for groceries for the store, don't you?" "what, me? why, course i do. ain't you seen me a-goin' around with that bob-tail racer of old culpepper's that could make a mile in seventeen minutes if you kept the whip a-waggin' over his back? what if i do take orders; want to leave one with me for a commission, hey?" dock tried to throw all the sarcasm he could into his voice. he had an object no doubt in doing this; which was to impress these two boys as to his contempt for them and their errand, whatever it might be. "we came here in hopes that you might solve a little bit of a mystery that's bothering carl's mother, dock," continued tom. it was pretty dark out there, as the night had settled down, and not much light escaped from the windows close by; still tom thought he saw the other boy move uneasily when he said this. "that's a funny thing for you to say, tom chesney," grumbled the other. "how'd i be able to help mrs. oskamp out, tell me? i ain't much of a hand to figger sums. that's why i hated school, and run away, so i had to go to work. now what you drivin' at anyhow? just tell me that." "day before yesterday you called at mrs. oskamp's house, dock, as you do every morning, to take orders. you always make it about the same time, i understand, which is close to a quarter after nine." "oh! i'm the promptest grocery clerk you ever saw!" boasted dock, perhaps to hide a little confusion, and bolster up his nerve. "after you had gone, or to make it positive at just a quarter to ten mrs. oskamp, who had dressed to go out, missed something that was on the table of the sitting room where you came for orders, and which she says she knows was there when you first arrived!" "what's this you're a-sayin', tom chesney? want to make me out a thief, do you? better go slow about that sort of talk, i tell you!" blustered dock, aggressively. "did mrs. oskamp see me take anything?" "oh! no, certainly not," continued tom; "but she had to go upstairs to get a bill she wanted you to take back to the store for correction, and left you alone in the room for a couple of minutes, that's all." tom was fishing for a "rise," as he would have put it himself, being something of an angler; and he got it too. all unsuspicious of the trap that had been spread for his unwary feet dock gave a harsh laugh, and went on to say angrily: "you have got the greatest nerve i ever heard about, tom chesney, a-comin' here right to my own home, and accusin' me of bein' a reg'lar thief. i wouldn't take a thing for the world. besides, what'd i want with a silly old scrap of paper, tell me?" "oh!" said tom, quietly, "but i never mentioned what it was that was taken. how do you happen to know then it was a paper, dock?" carl gave a gasp of admiration for the clever work of his chum. as for dock, he hardly knew what to say immediately, though after he caught his breath he managed to mutter: "why, there was some papers on the table, i remembered, and i just guessed you must be meanin' that. i tell you i ain't seen no paper, and you can't prove it on me either. i defy you to; so there! now just tell me what you're goin' to do about it." he squared off as though he had a dim idea the two boys might want to lay hands on him and try to drag him around to the police headquarters. of course this was the very last thing tom and carl would think of attempting. strategy alone could influence dock to confess to the truth. "oh! we don't mean to touch you, dock," said tom, hastily. "all we wanted to do was to ask you if you had seen that paper? if you denied it we knew we would have to try and find it another way; because sooner or later the truth is bound to come out, you understand. we'd rather have you on our side than against us, dock." "but what would a feller like me want with your old paper?" snarled the boy, who may not have wholly liked the firm way in which tom said that in the end the real facts must be made known, just as if they meant to get some one accustomed to spying on people to watch him from that time on. "nothing so far as it concerned you," replied tom; "but it was of considerable value to another. your employer, mr. culpepper, might be willing to pay a considerable sum to get possession of that same paper, because it bore his signature." dock gave a disagreeable laugh. "what, that old miser pay any real money out? huh, you don't know him. he squeezes every dollar till it squeals before he lets it go. he'd bargain for the difference of five cents. nobody could do business with him on the square. but i tell you i ain't seen no paper; and that's all i'm a-goin' to say 'bout it. i'm meanin' to let my dogs out for a little air soon's i go back in the house, an' i hopes that you'll close the gate after you when you skip!" there was a veiled threat in his words, and as he proceeded to terminate the interview by passing inside tom and carl thought it good policy to make use of the said gate, for they did not like the manner in which the dogs growled and whined on the other side of the barrier. "he's a tough one, all right," carl was saying as they walked on together, and heard the three dogs barking in the phillips' yard. "yes," admitted his chum, "dock's a hard customer, but not so very smart when you come right down to it. he fell headlong into my trap, which is a very old one with lawyers who wish to coax a man to betray his guilt." "you mean about saying it was a paper that had been lost?" said carl. "yes, you fairly staggered him when you asked him how he knew that." "there's no question about dock's being the guilty one," asserted tom. "he gave himself away the worst kind then. the only thing we have to do is to try and get the truth from him. sooner or later it's got to be found out." "yes," continued carl, dejectedly, "but if he's handed that paper over to mr. culpepper in the meantime, even if we could prove that dock took it what good will that do? once that paper is torn up, we could recover nothing." "but i'm sure he hasn't made his bargain with old amasa yet," tom ventured. "why do you believe that?" asked the other, eagerly. "you heard what he said about the meanness of his employer, didn't you?" was what tom replied. "well, it proves that although dock sounded mr. culpepper about being in a position to give him the paper they haven't arrived at any satisfactory conclusion." "you mean dock wants more than amasa is willing to pay, is that it, tom?" "it looks that way to me," the other boy assented; "and that sort of deadlock may keep on indefinitely. you see, dock is half afraid to carry the deal through, and will keep holding off. perhaps he may even have put so high a price on his find, that every once in a while they'll lock horns and call it a draw." "i hope you've hit on the right solution," sighed carl; "if it didn't do anything else it would give us a chance to think up some other scheme for getting the truth out of dock." "leave it to me, carl; sooner or later we'll find a way to beat him at his own game. if he's got that paper hidden away somewhere we may discover his secret by following him. there are other ways too. it's going to come out all right in the end, you take my word for it!" chapter v the black bear patrol it was a lively scene in the room under the church when the meeting was called to order by mr. witherspoon, the civil engineer and surveyor. a dozen boys were on hand, several having come from curiosity, and meaning to join the scouts later on if they saw reason to believe it would amount to anything. besides the boys there were present judge stone, his friend the hermit-naturalist, larry henderson, and two fathers, who had dropped around to learn whether this new-fangled movement for the rising generation meant that the boys were to be secretly trained for soldiers, as so many people believed. robert witherspoon having once been a scout master knew how to manage a meeting of this sort. after he had called it to order he made a neat little speech, and explained what a wonderful influence for good the organization had been in every community where it had been tested. he read various extracts from the scout manual to show the lofty aims of those who had originated this idea which was taking the world by storm. "the boys have been neglected far too long," he told them; "and it has been decided that if we want a better class of men in the world we must begin work with the boy. it is the province of this scout movement to make duty so pleasant for the average lad that he will be wild to undertake it." in his little talk to the boys mr. witherspoon mentioned the fact that one of the greatest charms of becoming scouts was that growing habit of observing all that went on around them. "when you're in town this may not seem to be much of a thing after all," he had gone on to say; "but in the woods you will find it an ever increasing fascination, as the wonders of nature continue to be unfolded before your eyes. we are fortunate to have with us to-night a gentleman who is known all over the country as a naturalist and lover of the great outdoors. i think it will be worth our while to listen while he tells us something of the charming things to be found in studying nature. mr. henderson i'm going to ask you to take up as much time as you see fit." when tom and carl and some of the other boys did that little favor for mr. larry henderson they were inclined to fancy that he was rather rough in his manner. he had not been talking five minutes however, before they realized that he was a born orator, and could hold an audience spell-bound by his eloquence. he thrilled those boys with the way in which he described the most trivial happening in the lonely wilds. they fairly hung upon his every sentence. "when you first commence to spend some time in the woods, boys," he told them, "it will seem very big and lonesome to you. then as you come to make the acquaintance of br'er 'coon and mr. fox and the frisky chipmunk and all the rest of the denizens, things will take on a different color. in the end you will feel that they are all your very good friends, and nothing could tempt you to injure one of the happy family. "yes, it is true that occasionally i do trap an animal but only when i find it a discordant element in the group. some of them prey upon others, and yet that is no excuse why man should step in and exterminate them all, as he often does just for the sake of a few dollars." this sort of talk roused the enthusiasm of the boys, and when after a while mr. witherspoon put the question as to how many of them felt like immediately signing the roster roll so as to start the first patrol of the intended troop, there was a good deal of excitement shown. first of all tom chesney signed, and immediately after him came carl, felix, josh and george. by the time these five names had appeared josh had slipped his arm through that of walter douglass and brought him up to the table to place his signature on the list. "we need two more to make up the first patrol," announced mr. witherspoon. "unless eight are secured we cannot hope to get our charter from scout headquarters, because that is the minimum number of a troop. i sincerely hope we may be able to make so much progress to-night at this meeting that i can write to-morrow to obtain the necessary authority for acting as your scout master." at that another boy who had been anxiously conferring with his father walked forward. "good for you, billy button!" called out josh. "that makes seven, and we only need one more name. horace, are you going to see this grand scheme fall through for lack of just a single name? your sig would look mighty good to the rest of us at the end of that list." then he ended with an air of assumed dignity, "horace, your country calls you; will it call in vain?" horace herkimer crapsey was the boy who had been spoken of as a dainty dude, who hated to soil his white hands. tom had expressed it as his opinion that if only horace could be coaxed to join the troop it would prove to be the finest thing in the world for him. he had the making of a good scout only for those faults which other boys derided as silly and girlish. he was neat to a painful degree, and that is always looked on as a sort of crime by the average boy. horace evidently had been greatly taken by the combined talk of the scout master and the old hermit-naturalist. to the great delight of josh, as well as most of the other boys, he now stepped forward and placed his name on the list. "that makes eight, and enough for the first patrol," announced mr. witherspoon, with a pleased look; "we can count on an organization now as a certainty. all of you will have to start in as tenderfeet, because so far you have had no experience as scouts; but unless i miss my guess it will be only a short time before a number of you will be applying for the badge of second-class scouts." "that's just what we will, sir!" cried josh, brimming over with enthusiasm. "we cannot elect a patrol leader just now," continued mr. witherspoon, "until there are some of you who are in the second class; but that will come about in good time. but it is of considerable importance what name you would like to give this first patrol of the new lenox troop of boy scouts." there was a conference among the boys, and all sorts of suggestions were evidently being put forward. finally tom chesney seemed to have been delegated as usual to act as spokesman. "mr. chairman," he said, rising from his seat, "my comrades of lenox troop have commissioned me to say they would like to ask mr. henderson to name the first patrol for them. they believe they will be perfectly satisfied with any name he may think best to give them." judge stone smiled, and nodded his head as though he considered this quite a neat little compliment for his good old friend. and the naturalist was also evidently pleased as he got upon his feet. "after all, boys," he told them, "it is a matter of very little consequence what you call this fine patrol. there are a dozen names that suggest themselves. since you have a bear mountain within half a dozen miles of your town suppose you call it the black bear patrol." there was a chorus of approving assents, and it looked as though not a single objection was to be offered. "the black bear is an american institution, you might say," mr. henderson continued, when this point had been settled, "and next to the eagle is recognized as distinctive. from what i have heard said this evening it seems to me also that the boy scouts of america differ from any other branch of the movement in many ways." "above all things," exclaimed mr. witherspoon, "in that there is nothing military about the movement over here. in europe scouts are in one sense soldiers in the making. they all expect to serve the colors some day later on. we do not hold this up before our boys; though never once doubting that in case a great necessity arose every full-fledged scout would stand up for his country's honor and safety." "every time!" exclaimed the impetuous josh. long they lingered there, discussing many things connected with the securing of their uniforms, after the proper time had elapsed. various schemes were suggested whereby each boy could earn enough money to pay for his outfit; because that was one of the important stipulations made in joining a troop, no candidate being allowed to accept help in securing his suit. before the meeting was adjourned it was settled that they were to come together every friday night; and meanwhile each member of the black bear patrol expected to qualify for the grade of second-class scout just as soon as his month of membership as arranged under the bylaws of the order had expired. chapter vi setting the trap "three weeks have gone by since we had that first meeting, tom; just think of it." carl was walking along the river road with his chum when he made this remark. they had seen the last of the snow vanish, and with the coming of milder days all the boys began to talk of going fishing before long. perhaps this saunter of the pair after school may have had something to do with the first contemplated outing of the season, and they wanted to see whether the fish had commenced to come from their winter quarters, though the law would not be off for trout yet awhile. "that's a fact, carl," replied the other boy; "and at our very next meeting most of the members of the patrol are going to get their badges as second-class scouts, because they've already qualified for it to the satisfaction of mr. witherspoon." "honest to goodness i believe there'll be only one tenderfoot left in the lot," carl continued; "and that of course is our dude, horace. he managed to exert himself just enough to fulfill the requirements a tenderfoot has to possess, but there he sticks." "wait a while longer," tom told him, "and one of these fine days you may see horace wake up. i haven't lost hopes of him by a long shot. at our next meeting, after we've passed up, the first thing we have to do is to elect a patrol leader." carl laughed softly. "oh that's all cut and dried, already," he asserted. "well, if it is no one has said anything to me about it," objected tom, at which the other laughed again. "why should they bother when it was seven against one, tom?" argued carl. "why, the boys wouldn't dream of having any other leader than you!" "but that doesn't seem quite fair, it ought to be talked over openly. why pick me out above every one else for that?" "because you've always been a leader among your schoolmates, tom, that's why!" he was quickly, told. "you've got it in you to take the lead in every kind of sport known to boys. baseball, football, hockey, athletics--tell me a single thing where you've had to play second fiddle to any other fellow. and it isn't because you want to push yourself either, but because you can go ahead." "well," said tom, slowly and musingly, "it's mighty nice to know that the other boys like you, and if the fellows are bound to make me take the office of patrol leader i suppose i'll have to accept it." "no one so well able to do the work as you are, tom. but this has been a terribly long three weeks to me, i tell you." "now you're thinking that we haven't made a bit of progress about finding that stolen paper," suggested tom, looking a little crest-fallen. "both of us have tried from time to time to watch dock after nights, but somehow we haven't had much success up to now." "no," added carl, with one of his heavy sighs, "if he has that paper hidden somewhere he's smart enough to keep away from his cache, so far as we've been able to find out." "i don't believe he's come to any settlement with amasa culpepper as yet," tom observed, with considerable positiveness. "we think that, but we don't know for sure," ventured the less confident carl. "if only i could glimpse the paper i'd have a big load lifted from my mind. and it cuts me to the quick to see poor mother trying to look cheerful when i come indoors, though i've noticed signs of tears on her cheeks several times." "i've been thinking of some sort of scheme," began tom, slowly. "good for you!" burst out carl, delightedly. "tell me what it is then; and can we start in to try it right away?" "that depends on several conditions," explained the other. "first of all do you remember what that receipt made out by mr. culpepper looked like, carl?" "do i? why, it seems to me it must have been burned on my memory as though you'd take a red hot poker and make marks on the clean kitchen floor. when i shut my eyes nights and try to go to sleep it keeps dancing in front of me. before i know what i'm doing i find myself grabbing out for it, and then i want to kick myself for being so foolish, when i know it's all just a silly bit of imagination." "i'm glad you remember so well how it looked," remarked tom, somewhat to the mystification of his companion. "what has that got to do with your scheme?" he demanded, in perplexity. "a whole lot," came the swift answer; "because i want you to get me up as close a copy of that receipt as you possibly can!" "whew! do you mean even to signing mr. culpepper's name at the end?" asked carl, whose breath had very nearly been taken away. "yes, even to that," he was told; "in fact the paper wouldn't be worth a pinch of salt in my little game if that signature were omitted. do you think you could duplicate the receipt, carl?" "i am sure i could; but even now i'm groping in the dark, because for the life of me i can't see what you expect to do with it, tom." "don't forget to crease it, to make it look as though it had been folded and opened ever so many times; yes, and soil the outside a little too, as if it had been carried in a boy's pocket along with a lot of other things like marbles or a top or something like that." "but please explain what all this means," carl pleaded. "listen!" replied the other, impressively, "and i'll tell you what my game is. it may work, and it may fall flat; a whole lot depends on circumstances, but there's no harm trying it out." "of course not; go on and tell me." "in watching dock when he didn't know it, we've learned considerable about his habits," continued tom. "for one thing every single night he walks home along the river road here after delivering a package or two at certain houses. it seems to be a part of the programme. well, some fine night we'll lie in wait for him about this spot; and on the road will be that duplicate of the paper which we believe he stole." at that carl became quite excited. "oh! now i see what your game it!" he cried; "and let me tell you i think it's as clever a trick as could be thought of. he'll pick up the paper, thinking it may be something worth while; and when he sees that it is the very receipt he thinks he has got safely hidden away somewhere, dock will be so rattled that the first thing he does will be to hurry to find out whether it's been taken or not." "that's the idea, carl; and of course we'll follow him, so as to jump in the very minute he gets out the real document to compare them." "fine! fine, tom! you are certainly the crackerjack when it comes to laying a trap to trip a scamp up. why, he'll fall into that pit head over heels; and i do hope we can snatch the paper away from him before he has a chance to tear it up." "we'll look out for that all right, you can depend on it," came the reassuring remark from the other scout. "when will you get busy on that copy, carl?" "to-night, after the kids are in bed," carl hastened to reply; "i wouldn't care to have them see what i was doing, though in this case i firmly believe it's all right." "and if your mother wants to know, tell her," said tom. "i'd have to do that anyway," said carl, without the least confusion or hesitation; "i always tell my mother everything that happens. she takes an interest in all my plans, and she's the dearest little mother a boy ever had. but she'll understand that it's only meant to be a trick to catch the thief." "then if you have it ready by to-morrow afternoon we might try how it works that same evening," tom remarked. "i wish the time was now, i'm getting so anxious to do something," sighed the second boy, as he again remembered how he had seen his mother force herself to appear cheerful when he came from school, though there were traces of tears on her cheeks, and her eyes looked red. soon after that the chums separated, as the afternoon was drawing near a close. "i wish you luck with your work to-night, carl," was what tom called out in parting; "and if any one wants to know where we've been, be sure and tell them that so far as we've been able to find out the fishing promises to be mighty fine this spring, better than for years, if signs go for anything." on the following day at noon when they walked home for lunch carl showed his chum the paper. it had been carefully done, and even bore the marks of service in the way of numerous creases, and some soiled spots in the bargain. tom was loud in his praise. "it certainly looks as if it had been carried in a boy's pocket for some time," he declared; "and it's up to you to say how close a copy the contents are to the original." "i'm sure amasa culpepper would say it was his own crabbed handwriting to a fraction," carl had no hesitation in asserting. "and so far as that goes dock phillips isn't capable of discovering any slight difference. if he ever picks this up you mark my words, tom, he's going to get the biggest shock he's felt in many a day." "and you can see how the very first thing he'd be apt to do would be to look around to see if anybody was spying on him, and then hurry away to find if his paper could have been taken from the place where he hid it." "oh! i hope, tom, he doesn't just step over it, and never bother to pick it up." "we've got to take our chance of that happening," he was told; "but we know how nearly every boy would act. besides, scraps of paper have begun to seem worth something in dock's eyes lately. the chances are three to one he'll get it." "well, i'll meet you at just seven o'clock to-night at the old smithy, and we'll lay the trap when we hear his whistle up the road. dock always whistles when he's out after dark. i think it must help him keep his courage up." the church bells had just started to ring seven when the two boys came close to the old blacksmith shop that had been deserted when mr. siebert moved to a better location. they had chosen this spot because it was rather lonely, and there did not seem to be very much chance of their little game being interrupted by any other pedestrian coming along just at the critical time. on one side of the road lay the bushes, in the midst of which the boys expected to hide; on the other could be seen the river. all was quiet around them as the minutes passed away. "there, that's his whistle, tom!" whispered carl, suddenly. thereupon the other scout crept swiftly out upon the road, and placed the folded paper where it could hardly help being seen by any one with ordinary eyesight. he had just returned to the bushes when a figure came hurrying around the bend, whistling vigorously as some boys are in the habit of doing. carl's heart seemed almost to stop beating when he saw dock suddenly halt and bend over. chapter vii dock goes from bad to worse just at that instant, as luck would have it, a vagrant gust of wind, perhaps an advance courier of the prospective storm, swooped down across the road. before the boy who was stooping over could touch the paper that had attracted his attention it was whisked suddenly away. he made an ineffectual effort to seize upon it in the air, but missed it and had to stand there, while the paper floated far out over the river, to fall finally on the moving current. carl quivered with another feeling besides anxiety and suspense; keen disappointment was wringing his heart cruelly. just when their clever little plot seemed on the point of working, a freak of fate had dashed his hopes to the ground. he had the greatest difficulty in suppressing the cry that tried to bubble from between his lips. even tom must have felt bitterly chagrinned when he saw the paper go swirling off, without having had a chance to test its ability to deceive dock phillips, and perhaps lead him into confessing his guilt. the grocer's boy was now walking on again. of course he knew nothing about the character of the elusive paper, save that it had played him a little trick. they could hear him whistling again in his loud way as though he had already forgotten the circumstance. "hang the luck!" complained carl, when he felt that it was safe to let a little of the compressed steam escape through the safety valve of his voice. "that was a rough deal, all right," admitted tom. "who would have dreamed such a blast could sweep down and take that paper off? too bad you had all your work for nothing, carl." "oh! the work didn't amount to much," said the other boy, despondently; "but after hoping for such great things through our plan it's hard to feel that you're up in the air as bad as ever." "we might try it all over again some time, after dock's kind of forgotten about this happening," suggested tom. "but if he kept on seeing loose papers every little while he might get suspicious about it. perhaps we can think up another plan that will have the earmarks of success about it." "i never thought the river would play me such a trick," said carl, looking out on the moving water; "up to now i've had a sort of friendly feeling for the old stream, but after this i'll be apt to look on it as an unprincipled foe." "oh! i wouldn't say that," urged tom, always practical; "the river wasn't to blame at all. and that gust of wind would have come whether we thought to place our bait on the road or not. i'd call it a piece of hard luck, and let it go at that." "we couldn't do anything, tom, now our paper's gone off on the current?" "oh well," replied the other purposely allowing himself to grow humorous so as to cause carl to forget the keen bitterness of his disappointment; "perhaps if we went fishing to-morrow below here we might take the trout that would have your paper tucked away in his little tummy." "that's right, tom," the other added; "we've read some thrilling yarns about jewels being recovered that way; and i remember that even a gold watch was said to have been found, still running inside a fish after many moons." "yes, they tried to explain that phenomenon in a lot of ways, but i guess it must have been meant for a joke, just as my idea was." "it's all over for to-night then?" "yes, let's go home," replied tom. "we have lots to talk over and do, too. before long the exams will be coming on, and we want to pass with honors if we expect to enjoy our vacation this summer." "and it's pretty nearly decided i hear, that the black bear patrol takes a long hike the first thing after school closes," carl was saying, as they started down the river road into lenox. "ten days in camp or knocking about will do more to make us seasoned scouts than as many months at home," ventured tom, knowingly. "all the difference between theory and practice you mean," added carl. "on my own part i don't care how soon we get started. i've a whole lot of things written down to be attended to, once we get away from civilization. that long list mr. witherspoon gave me i've made up a name for." "what is it, then?" asked tom. "things for a tenderfoot scout to look for on his first visit to the storehouse of nature. what do you think of the title, tom?" "a pretty long one, it strikes me," answered the other; "but it covers the ground. every one of us must have a copy, and it'll be a lot of fun to find out who'll be the first to answer all those questions." "one thing i hope will happen before we start out on that hike," said carl. "of course you're referring to that paper again, and i don't blame you a bit. we'll do our level best to get hold of it before then," and trying as well as he knew how to buoy up the drooping spirits of the disappointed chum tom locked arms with him, and in this fashion they walked home. the days again drifted along into weeks. scout matters were looking up decidedly in lenox. there was even some talk of a second rival organization among another set of boys, though mr. witherspoon gave it as his opinion that nothing could ever be done with such a wild crowd. "there isn't a single one among them, from what i hear and know, who could comply with the requirements every scout is expected to have as an asset when he makes application," was the way he put it. "those boys couldn't subscribe to any of the rules which govern scouts in their daily life. they'd have to turn over a new leaf for a fact before they could don the khaki." "and," said josh kingsley, "when such tough fellows as tony pollock, asa green, wedge mcguffey and dock phillips start to turning leaves you can begin to see angel wings sprouting back of their shoulder blades." there were already five boys who had given in their names to make up a second patrol. when it was filled they meant to join the troop, and qualify for a better standing than greenhorns or tenderfeet. larry henderson had long since gone back to his wilderness home beyond bear mountain. twice had tom received a letter from the old naturalist, in which he asked a great many questions, all concerning the boys of lenox, in whom he had not lost interest, and what progress the new troop was making. he also expressed a hearty wish that should they ever take a trip through the section of country where he lived they would not neglect to look him up in his cabin. one thing tom and carl had noticed of late, and this was that dock phillips had taken to going with that tough crowd again. for a while his work in the grocery store had tired him so much each day that when evening came he had been content to go to his home, eat his supper, and then crawl in between the sheets. once more dock was to be seen hanging around the street corners late at night with that group of rowdies that gave the uniformed force so much trouble. some of them only escaped arrest on numerous occasions because their fathers happened to be local politicians whom the police did not wish to offend. tom and carl talked this fact over and arrived at a conclusion, which may, and again may not, have been the true explanation. "dock's getting tired of holding down his job," tom had said, "he's been out of school so long now that he can't be sent back; and he doesn't like hard work either. since his father signed the pledge he's been working steadily enough, and perhaps dock gets into trouble at home because of his temper." "i happen to know he does for a fact," assented carl. "he's been acting hateful, staying out up to midnight every night, and his father has threatened to pitch him out. i rather think he's lazy, and wants to loaf." "perhaps he thinks that he ought to be drawing a regular salary because of that paper he's got hidden away, and which is worth so much to amasa culpepper, as well as to you. to keep him quiet it may be, the old man is paying him a few dollars every week on the sly, even though he refuses to come down with a big lump sum." "tom, would it be right for me to have another talk with dock, and make him an offer?" ventured carl, hesitatingly. "do you mean try to find out what the sum is he asked amasa to pay him?" questioned tom; "and agree to hand it over to him just as soon as the stock of the oil well company can be sold, after your mother gets it again?" "yes, like that. would it be wrong in me? anything like compounding a felony?" carl continued. "i don't see how that could be wrong," the other boy answered, after stopping to think it all over. "you have a right to offer a reward and no questions asked for the return of your own lost or stolen property." "then i'd like to try it before we settle on leaving town, tom." "it would do no harm, i should think," his chum advised him. "the only danger i can see would be if dock took the alarm and went to mr. culpepper, to tell him you were trying to outbid him for the possession of the paper." "that would be apt to make him come to time with a jump, wouldn't it?" said carl. "unless he got it into his head that dock was only trying to frighten him into meeting the stiff price at which he held the paper," said tom. "he might make out that he didn't care a pin, with the idea of forcing dock to come down." "yes, because he would believe dock wouldn't dare put his neck in the noose by confessing to us he had stolen the paper. then would you advise me to try the plan i spoke of?" "if you get a good chance i should say yes." that was on a wednesday afternoon, and carl went home, his head filled with a programme he had laid out that concerned the cornering of dock phillips. on thursday he learned, when home for lunch, that a new boy had come for orders from the grocery. carl was immediately filled with alarm. in imagination he could see dock and mr. culpepper coming to terms at last. after school that afternoon he waited for tom, to whom the startling news was disclosed. the stunning effect of it did not seem to affect tom's quick acting mind. "let's find out just what's happened," he remarked. "perhaps over at joslyn's, next door to the phillips's, we might pick up a clue." "yes, and i know mrs. joslyn right well in the bargain," said carl, showing interest at once. "i'm sure that if i told her as a secret just why we wanted to know about dock she'd tell me if anything had happened there lately." to the joslyn house the two boys went. mrs. joslyn was an energetic little woman, and said to be able to mind her own business. she listened with growing eagerness to the story, and at its conclusion said: "i'm sorry for your mother, carl, and i don't know that i can help you any; but there was something strange that happened at the phillips' house last night." chapter viii signs of trouble ahead "was it about dock?" asked carl, eagerly, while tom could see that the color had left his face all of a sudden. "yes," continued mrs. joslyn, "dock seems to have fallen into the habit of staying out until midnight, with some of those young fellows who loaf on the corners and get into every kind of mischief they can think up." "that's what we've been told was going on, ma'am," said tom. "i could hear his father scolding him furiously, while his mother was crying, and trying to make peace. dock was ugly, too, and for a time i thought his father was going to throw him out of the house. but in the end it quieted down." "that's a new streak in dock's father, i should say," remarked tom. "time was when he used to come home himself at all hours of the night, and in a condition that must have made his wife's heart sick." "yes, but you know he's turned over a new leaf, and acts as if he meant to stick to the water wagon," mrs. joslyn explained. "somehow it's made him just the other way, very severe with dock. i guess he's afraid now the boy will copy his bad example, and that's peeving mr. phillips." "but he let dock stay in the house, you say?" carl continued. "then i wonder why he didn't show up for orders this morning. the other boy told my mother dock was sick and couldn't come." mrs. joslyn smiled. "yes, he says that," she observed. "i went over to take back a dish i had borrowed, and he was lying on the lounge, smoking a cigarette. he said he was real sick, but between you and me, carl, i'm of the opinion he's just tired of his job, and means to throw it up. he'd rather loaf than work any day." carl breathed more freely. it was of course none of his business what dock did with himself, though he might think the other was a mean shirk to hang around idle when his people needed every dollar they could scrape up. "thank you for telling me this, mrs. joslyn," he said as with his chum he prepared to take his departure; "it relieves my mind in several ways. and please don't whisper my secret to any one. i still hope to be able to get that paper from dock sooner or later, if he doesn't come to terms with amasa culpepper." "i promise you faithfully carl," the little woman told him. "i guess i'm able to hold my tongue, even if they do say my sex never can. and carl, you must let me know if anything happens to alter conditions, because i'm dreadfully interested. this is the first time in all my life i've been connected with a secret." "i certainly will let you know, mrs. joslyn," carl promised. "and furthermore," she continued, "if i happen to see dock doing anything that looks queer or suspicious i'll get word to you. he might happen to have his hiding-place somewhere around the back yard or the hen house, you know. he may have buried the paper in the garden. i'll keep an eye on the neighbors while he's home." tom was chuckling at a great rate as he and carl went down the street. "it looks as if you've got mrs. joslyn a whole lot interested, carl," he told the other. "she's just burning with curiosity to find out something. every time dock steps out to feed the chickens she's going to drop whatever she may be doing, and focus her eyes on him, even if her pork chops burn to black leather." "i wonder what he's meaning to do?" remarked carl, in a speculative way. "oh! just as mrs. joslyn told us, dock's a lazy fellow," tom suggested; "and now that his father is working steadily he thinks it's time for him to have a rest. then we believe he's expecting sooner or later to get a big lot of money from mr. culpepper, when they come to terms." "yes," added carl. "and in the meantime perhaps he's got amasa to hand him over a few dollars a week, just to keep him quiet. that would supply his cigarettes, you know, and give him spending money." "well, it's a question how long his father will put up with it," tom mused. "one of these fine days we'll likely hear that dock has been kicked out, and taken to the road." "he's going with that tony pollock crowd you know," carl hinted; "and some of them would put him up for a time. but i'm hoping we'll find a chance to make him own up, and hand back the thing he stole. i'd like to see my mother look happy again." "does amasa still drop in to call now and then?" asked the other. "yes, but my mother insists that i sit up until he goes whenever he does. you'd have a fit laughing, tom, to see the black looks he gives me. i pretend to be studying to beat the band, and in the end he has to take his hat and go. i'm allowed to sleep an hour later after those nights, you see, to make up. it's getting to be a regular nuisance, and mother says she means to send him about his business; but somehow his hide is so thick he can't take an ordinary hint. i think his middle name should have been rhinoceros instead of reuben." "what will she do when you're away with the rest of us on that ten day hike over big bear mountain?" asked tom. "oh! she says she'll have told mr. culpepper before then she doesn't want him to call again," explained carl; "either that or else she'll have to keep all the rest of the children up, and get them to romping like wild indians. you know amasa is nervous, and can't stand noise." tom laughed at the picture thus drawn of three boisterous youngsters employed in causing an ardent wooer to take his departure. "it's only a few days now before we can get started, you know, carl. nearly all the preparations have been made. each scout will have his new uniform on, with a few extra clothes in his pack." "we won't try to carry any tent, will we, tom?" "that's been settled," came the ready answer. "at the meeting when i was elected patrol leader we discussed this trip, and it took like wildfire. in the first place we haven't a tent worth carrying; and then again it would make too heavy a load. all of us have been studying up on how to make brush shelters when in the woods, and even if it rains i think we'll get on fairly well." "each scout has a rubber poncho, which can be made mighty useful in a pinch, i should think," said carl. "then besides our clothes and a blanket, we'll have to carry a cooking outfit, as light as it can be made, and what grub we expect to eat up." "oh! most of that we'll rustle for on the way," the patrol leader told him. "we'll find farms scattered along our route, and it'll be easy enough to buy eggs, milk, perhaps a home-cured ham, some chickens, and other things like bread and butter." "that's a great scheme, tom, and it makes my mouth fairly water just to talk about it. sounds like an army foraging, only instead of taking things we'll expect to pay cash for them. how many are going along on the hike?" "i have yet to hear of any member of the black bear patrol who dreams of backing out; and there are several others who've told me they hope to join us. the way it looks now only a bad case of sickness would be able to keep any scout from being in line on that wonderful morning when lenox troop marches out of town headed for big bear mountain." "one good thing, we don't have to pack any heavy guns along with us," declared carl. "no, that's absolutely forbidden," the patrol leader declared; "we can take a fishing rod if we feel like it, because there's a chance to pick up some trout or bass before we come back on the down-river boat ten days later." "i like that idea of making the return trip by water," carl continued. "it will be great after so much tramping and camping. besides, some of the boys have never been fifteen miles up the river before, and so the trip is going to be a picnic for them." "come over to-night and do your cramming for the exam with me," suggested tom. "i'd like to the worst kind," the other boy said with a grimace; "but this is the night mr. culpepper generally pops in, and you see i'm on guard. but i'm hoping mother will give him his walking papers pretty soon now." "you would have to put a bomb under his chair to convince amasa that his space was more desired than his company," laughed tom, as he strode off toward his own comfortable home. the days passed, and since school would be over for the year at the end of the week, in the bustle of examinations and all that they meant for each boy scout, the intended outing was over-shadowed for the time being. when, however, several of the scouts got together of course the talk soon drifted toward the subject of the hike, and many were the wonderful projects advanced, each of which seemed to give promise of a glorious prospect ahead. so friday night finally came. school had been dismissed with all the accustomed ceremonies that afternoon, and there were few of the boys who had not gone up to a higher grade, so that when the last meeting before their expected vacation trip was called to order by the president of the organization it was a care-free and happy assemblage that answered the roll-call. mr. witherspoon, the scout master, was on hand, but he seldom interfered with the routine of the meeting. it was his opinion that boys got on much better if allowed to manage things as much as possible after their own ideas. if his advice was needed at any time he stood ready to give it; and meanwhile he meant to act more as a big brother to the troop than its leading officer. of course mr. witherspoon expected to start out on the hike with the boys. his only fear was that he might not be allowed to finish the outing in their company, since he was liable to be called away at any time on urgent business. the usual routine of the meeting was gone through with, and then a general discussion took place in connection with the anticipated hike. they had laid out the plan of campaign as well as they could, considering that none of the boys had actually been over the entire route before. "that makes it all the more interesting," tom had told them; "because we'll be apt to meet with a few surprises on the way. none of us would like to have anything all cut and dried ahead of time, i'm sure." "it's generally the unexpected that gives the most pleasure," declared josh kingsley, who was known to have leanings toward being a great inventor some fine day, and always hoped to make an important discovery while he experimented in his workshop in the old red barn back of his home. "well," remarked george cooper, getting slowly to his feet, "there may be some things that drop in on you unexpected like that don't seem to give you a whit of pleasure, and i can name one right now." "oh come, george, you old growler, you're just trying to throw cold water on our big scheme," complained felix robbins, trying to pull the other down. "i've seen him shaking his head lots of times all evening," asserted billy button, "and i just guessed george was aching to make us feel bad. he's never so happy as when he's making other folks miserable." george refused to take his seat. he even shrugged his shoulders as though he thought his comrades were hardly treating him fairly. "listen, fellows," he said, solemnly and ponderously; "i don't like to be the bird of ill omen that carries the bad news; but honest to goodness i'm afraid there's a heap of trouble looming up on the horizon for us unless we change our plans for a hike over big bear mountain." "what sort of trouble do you mean, george?" asked the patrol leader. "only this, mr. president," said george, "on the way here i learned that tony pollock, wedge mcguffey, asa green and dock phillips had started off this very afternoon, meaning to spend a week or more tramping over big bear mountain; and i guess they've got it in for our crowd." chapter ix no surrender "it looks like a set-up job to me!" declared josh kingsley, with a ring of honest indignation in his voice. "they've been hearing so much talk about what a great time we meant to have, it's just made them green with envy; that's what i think," ventured horace crapsey. "yes, but why pick out big bear mountain," felix wanted to know; "unless they meant to spy on the scouts, and give us all the trouble they could?" there were signs of anger visible on every side. scouts may be taught that it is noble to forgive those who wrong them, but all the same they are human, and deep down in their boyish hearts is the resentment any one with spirit feels at being imposed upon. "we haven't lifted a finger to interfere with anything that crowd wanted to do," said walter douglass, aggressively; "and they have no business to upset our plans." "huh! just let them try it, that's all!" grunted josh, shaking his head. "we had an experience something like this over in winchester, where i belonged to the scouts before moving to lenox," remarked rob shaefer, one of the two new boys. "do you mean some rowdies tried to make trouble for you?" asked carl. "in every way they could," the new boy replied. "we stood it as long as we could, and then acted." "what did you do to them?" asked mr. witherspoon, with an amused smile, for he liked to see these wide-awake lads figure out their own plans, and was greatly interested in listening to their discussions as they worked them out. "when it became unbearable," said rob, gravely, though his eyes twinkled, "we ducked the whole five in a frog pond, and after that they let us alone." "cooled 'em off, eh?" chuckled josh, whom the account seemed to amuse very much. "well, that isn't a bad idea, fellows. frog ponds have their uses besides supplying messes of delicious frog-legs for eating. anybody know of a pond that's got a nice green coating of scum on the top? that's the kind i'd like to see tony and his bunch scrambling around it." "oh! the pond will crop up all right when the time comes," asserted felix robbins, confidently; "they always do, you know." "but what are we going to do about this thing?" asked tom, as the chairman of the meeting. "motions are in order. somebody make a suggestion, so we can get the sense of the troop." "one thing certain," observed george, "we've got to give up the plan we've mapped out, and change our programme--or else count on running foul of tony and his crowd. which is it going to be?" a chorus of indignant remonstrances immediately arose. "why should we take water when we laid our plans first?" one demanded. "there are only four of them, all told, while we expect to number ten, perhaps a full dozen!" another scout announced. "i don't believe in knuckling down to any ugly lot of fellows that chooses to knock up against us," and josh must have expressed the feelings of most of those present when he said this, for there was a chorus of "my sentiments exactly," as soon as he finished. then, somehow, all eyes began to turn toward the scout master. they had come to think a great deal of mr. witherspoon. he seemed to have a great love for boys implanted in his heart, and was thus an ideal scout master; for there was always an exchange of sympathy between him and his charges. "you want to know what i think of it, boys?" he started to say. "it would have a heap of influence on our actions, sir--even if we did hate to play second fiddle to that crowd," admitted felix. "but i can see no reason why we should do that," the scout master immediately told them, and at this the anxious look on many faces gave way to one of satisfaction. "then you don't want us to give up the big bear mountain hike, and make up another programme; is that it, mr. witherspoon?" asked tom, who had not been quite so much concerned as some of the others, because he believed he knew the nature of their efficient scout master, and that he was not one of the "back-down" kind. "why should we do that?" replied the other, quietly. "we are not supposed to be aware of the fact that these four rowdies have gone off in that direction. our plain duty is to follow out our original plans, go about our own business, interfering with no one, and at the same time standing up for our rights." at hearing this some of the boys turned and exchanged expressive grins; others even shook hands with each other. fair play was something they admired above all things; and this manly stand on the part of their scout master pleased them immensely. "we're all glad to hear you say that, mr. witherspoon," the chairman of the meeting told him. "i'm sure i voice the sentiments of every scout present when i say that while we'll try to avoid trouble up to a certain point, there's going to be a limit to our forbearance." "and the frog-pond cure is always available as a last resort," added the new boy from winchester. "now let us try to forget all about this disagreeable topic, and go on with the discussion concerning the things we should take with us," the scout master suggested. "scouts should always be able to meet an emergency, no matter how suddenly it is forced on them. we'll be prepared, but at the same time not borrow trouble." accordingly all mention of tony pollock and his scapegrace cronies was avoided as they once more entered into a warm but perfectly friendly argument. there was one among them, however, who seemed to still look troubled. this was no other than carl oskamp. glancing toward his chum several times, tom could see the lines on his forehead, and he was also able to give a pretty good guess why this should be so. of course, it was all on account of the fact that when george made his announcement concerning the movements of tony pollock he had stated that dock phillips was one of the group that had left town, bent on spending a week on big bear mountain. this meant that the new scheme which carl had expected to "try out" on the coming saturday night could not be attempted, because the object of his attention would be far away. tom meant to comfort his chum after the meeting, when they were walking home together. he could see further than carl, and would be able to find more or less encouragement in the way things were working. scout affairs were certainly picking up in lenox of late. perhaps the coming to town of rob shaefer and stanley ackerman, who had both belonged to troops in the past, may have had considerable to do with it. at any rate the new wolf patrol numbered five, and other boys were showing a disposition to make application for membership. rob shaefer was booked for the patrol leader, because of his previous experience along those lines, as well as the fact that he was becoming well liked in lenox boy circles. the other new boy, while a pretty fair sort of fellow, did not have the same winning qualities that rob did. some of them even thought he felt envious because of rob's popularity, though if this were true, he took the wrong means to supplant his rival in the affection of their new friends. as this would be the last chance to talk things over, every little detail had to be settled before the meeting broke up. each boy who expected to accompany the expedition starting out to explore big bear mountain was directed what to carry with him. "and remember," mr. witherspoon told them as a final caution, "we expect to do much tramping under a hot june sun, so that every ounce you have to carry along will tell on your condition. limit your pack to the bare necessities as we've figured them out, and if necessary the strong will assist the weak. that's about all for to-night, boys. seven sharp on monday morning outside the church here, unless it's stormy. the church bell will ring at six if we are going." the boys gave a cheer as the meeting broke up. and it was a merry-hearted lot of lads that started forth bound for various homes where there would be more or less of a bustle and excitement until the hour of departure arrived on monday morning. tom and carl walked home together. "i could see what ailed you, carl," the patrol leader was saying as he locked arms with his chum; "you felt as though things were going against you when george announced that dock had left town." "because now i'll not have a chance to try out that second plan we'd arranged for, and which i had great hopes might succeed," complained carl, gloomily. "cheer up," urged the other, in his hearty fashion; "perhaps things are working your way after all. how do we know but that a glorious chance may come up and that you can win out yet? dock has gone to big bear mountain, where we expect to camp. in a whole week or more we're apt to run across him maybe many times. and carl, something seems to tell me your chance is going to come while we're off on this hike. dock hasn't settled with mr. culpepper yet, that's certain; and he's got that paper hidden away still. keep up your hopes, and it's sure to come out all right yet. besides, think what a grand time we're going to have on our outing!" chapter x ready for the start on the following day, which was saturday, there was considerable visiting among the scouts who so proudly wore their new khaki suits. conferences were of hourly occurrence, blankets brought out for inspection and comment, packs made up and taken to pieces again, and all manner of advice asked concerning the best way to carry the same. each boy had a written list of what he was expected to provide. this was a part of the wonderful system tom chesney had inaugurated. he had told them it was copied from the methods in vogue in the german army, so that in case of a hurried mobilization every man capable of bearing arms in the whole empire would know exactly what his particular duty was. this scout was to carry a generous frying-pan, made of sheet-steel to reduce the weight; another had to look out for the coffee-pot, which was also to hold enough for at least six thirsty campers. so it went on through the whole list of necessities. there were to be two messes of five or six each, and the second had a duplicate list of cooking utensils, as well as food to look after. nothing had been omitted that tom, assisted by several others who had had more or less camping experience, could think of. it was about eleven this saturday morning when tom, doing a little work among his vegetables in the kitchen garden, heard his name called. glancing up he discovered carl standing there by the fence that separated the garden from the highway. immediately tom realized that something new must have happened to make his chum appear so downcast. his first fear was that mr. culpepper had been asked by carl's mother for the securities, and had flatly denied ever having had them. "hello! what's gone wrong now, carl?" he asked, as he hurried over to join the boy who was leaning both elbows on the picket fence, and holding his head in his hands. "it seems as though everything is going wrong with us nowadays, tom," sighed poor carl. "anything more about that stolen paper?" asked tom. "no, it's something else this time," carl replied. "just as if we didn't have enough to worry about already." "no one sick over at your house, is there?" demanded the other, anxiously. "i'm glad to say that isn't the case," carl told him. "fact is, some bad news came in a letter mother had this morning from a lawyer in the city who manages her small affairs." "was it about that tenement house she owns, and the rents from which comes part of her income?" continued tom, quick to make a guess, for he knew something about the affairs of carl's folks. the other nodded his head as he went on to explain: "it burned down, and through some mistake of a clerk part of the insurance was allowed to lapse, so that we will not be able to collect on more than half. isn't that hard luck though, tom?" "i should say it is," declared the other, with a look of sympathy on his face. "but if it was the fault of the lawyer's clerk why shouldn't he be held responsible for the loss? i'd think that was only fair in the eye of the law." "oh!" said carl, quickly, "but my mother says he's really a poor man, and hasn't anything. besides, he's been conducting her little business since father died without charging a cent for his labor, so you see there's no hope of our collecting more than half of the insurance." "too bad, and i'm mighty sorry," tom told him. "coming on top of our losing that paper you can imagine how my mother feels," continued the other; "though she tries to be cheerful, and keeps on telling me she knows everything is sure to come out right in the end. still i can see that while she puts on a brave face it's only to keep me from feeling so blue. when she's all alone i'm sure she cries, for i can see her eyes are red when i happen to come in on her unexpectedly." "nothing can be done, i suppose, carl?" "not a thing," the other boy replied. "that is what makes me furious. if you can only see what's hitting you, and strike back, it does a whole lot of good. unless something crops up to make things look brighter between now and fall there's one thing certain." "what's that?" asked tom, though he believed he could give a pretty good guess, knowing the independent spirit of his chum so well. "i shall have to quit school, and go to work at something or other. my mother will never be able to meet expenses, even in the quiet way we live, now that part of her little income is cut off. a few hundred dollars a year means a lot to us, you see." "oh, i hope it won't come to that," said tom. "a whole lot may happen between now and the beginning of the fall term. for all we know that missing paper may be recovered, which would put your folks on easy street." "that's about the last hope, then," admitted carl. "it's all i'm counting on; and even then the chances seem to be against us." "but you won't think of backing down about going on this grand hike over big bear mountain, i hope?" remarked the patrol leader. "i believe i'd lack the heart to do it, tom, leaving mother feeling so bad; only for one thing." "meaning the fact that dock phillips is somewhere up there on the mountain; that's what you've got in your mind, isn't it, carl?" "yes, and what you said last night keeps haunting me all the time, tom. what if i did run across the chance to make dock own up, and got him to give me that precious paper? it would make everything look bright again--for with the boom on in the oil region that stock must be worth thousands of dollars to-day, if only we can get hold of the certificate again." "well, you're going to; things often work in a queer way, and that's what is happening now. and i feel as sure as anything that mr. culpepper's stinginess in holding out against dock's demands is going to be his undoing." such confident talk as this could not help having its effect on carl. he had in fact come over to tom's house knowing that he was sure to get comfort there. "you make me feel better already, tom," he asserted, as he took the hand the other boy thrust over the top of the garden fence; "and i'm going to try and look at it as a true scout should, believing that the sun is still shining back of the clouds." "i'm about through with my work here in the garden," tom told him, "so suppose you come around to the gate, or hop over the fence here. we'll go up to my room and take a look over the stuff that i expect to pack out of lenox monday a. m. i want to ask your opinion about several things, and was thinking of calling you up on the 'phone when i heard you speak just now." of course the main object tom had in view was not so much getting carl's opinion as to arouse his interest in the projected trip, so that for the time being he might forget his troubles. the two boys spent an hour chatting, and consulting a map tom produced that was supposed to cover most of the big bear mountain territory. it had been made by an old surveyor some years back, simply to amuse himself, and while not quite up to date might be said to be fairly accurate. mr. witherspoon had secured this chart and loaned it to tom, for there was always a possibility of his receiving a sudden call on business that would take him away from town, when the duty of engineering the trip must fall to the leader of the black bear patrol as the second in command. that was going to be an unusually long and tedious sunday for a good many boys in lenox. doubtless they would have their thoughts drawn from the sermon, as they sat with their folks in the family pews. and, too, looking out of the window at the waving trees they would probably picture themselves far away on the wooded slope of big bear mountain, perhaps making their first camp, and starting the glorious fire around which, as the night drew on, they would gather to tell stories and sing school songs. and it could be set down as certain that few of those who expected to join the adventurous spirits starting forth on the long mountain hike slept very soundly on the last night. when the hour agreed on, seven o'clock, came around, there was a scene of bustle under the tower of the church, where the scouts had gathered, together with many friends both young and old who meant to give them a noisy send-off on their hike over big bear mountain. chapter xi on the way amidst many hearty cheers and the clapping of hands the boy scouts started off. felix robbins had been elected bugler of the troop, and as there was no regular instrument for him, he had thought to fetch along the fish horn the boys used in playing fox and geese. this he sounded with considerable vim as the khaki-clad lads marched away, with a flag at their head, the scout master keeping step alongside the column. some of the older people had come to see them off. others hurried to the open doors and windows at the sound of the horn and the cheers, to wave their hands and give encouraging smiles. it was a proud time for those boys. they stood up as straight as ramrods, and held their heads with the proud consciousness that for the time being they were the center of attraction. there were ten in all starting forth. more might have gone, only that no scout not wearing the khaki could accompany the expedition; and besides the members of the black bear patrol, rob shaefer and stanley ackerman were the only two who could boast of a uniform. a number of boys accompanied them for a mile or so, to give them a good send-off; after which they either returned home or else went over the river fishing. for the first two miles or so every one seemed to be standing the tramp well. then as it began to get warmer, and the pack, somehow, seemed to increase in weight, several scouts lagged a little. seeing this, and understanding that it is always an unwise thing to push a horse or a human being in the beginning of a long race, mr. witherspoon thought it best to slacken their pace. they were in no particular hurry to get anywhere; and once heels began to get sore from the rubbing of their shoes, it would not be easy to cure them again. the wise scout master was a believer in the motto that "an ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure." ahead of them loomed the lofty elevation that possibly from its shape had long been known as big bear mountain. the boys had tried to learn just how it came by that name--and naturally this subject interested them more than ever as they found themselves drawing steadily closer to its foot. "it doesn't look so _very_ much like a bear to me," george kingsley remarked, as the discussion waxed warmer. though for that matter george always did find some reason to object to almost everything. "i was told by an old settler who ought to know," ventured tom, "that long ago numerous bears lived in the rocky dens of the mountain, and that's how it came to be called as it is." "must have been years and years ago then," said josh, "because i never remember hearing about a bear being seen hereabouts. i often used to look for bear tracks when i was out hunting, but of course i never found one." "wouldn't it be a great thing if we did happen on a real bear while we were out on this hike?" suggested billy button, who was rather given to stretches of imagination, and seeing things where they did not exist. so they beguiled the time away as they tramped along. gradually they approached the great gloomy looking mountain, and it was seen that by the time they stopped for their noon meal they would probably be at its foot. tom and carl were walking together, for somehow the boys seemed to pair off as a general thing. carl was looking brighter now, as though in the excitement of the start he might have temporarily forgotten his troubles. "there don't seem to be so many farms up this way as we thought," tom observed as they found themselves walking close beside a stretch of woodland, with a gully on the other side of the road. "that may make it harder for us to get the supplies we'll need, i should think," suggested carl, who knew the leaders of the expedition had counted on finding hospitable farmers from time to time, from whom they could purchase bread, butter, and perhaps smoked ham or bacon, very little of which had been carried with them--in fact no more than would be required for a few meals. "yes," admitted tom readily enough. "but then it will afford us a chance to show our ability as scouts--and if you look at it the right way that counts for a lot. when everything goes according to the schedule you've arranged there isn't much credit in doing things; but when you're up against it good and hard, and have to shut your teeth and fight, then when you accomplish things you've got a right to feel satisfied." carl knew full well there was a hidden significance beneath these words of his chum's--and that tom was once more trying to buoy up his hopes. since they had struck a portion of country not so thickly populated, the observing scouts had commenced to notice numerous interesting sights that attracted their attention. soon every boy was straining his eyesight in the hope of discovering new things among the trees, in the air overhead, or it might be amidst the shadows of the woodland alongside the country road. the scout master encouraged this habit of observation all he could. he knew that once it got a firm hold upon the average boy he could never again pass along a road or trail in the country without making numberless discoveries. what had once been a sealed book to his eyes would now become as an open page. about this time there were heard inquiries as to when they expected to stop and have a bite of lunch. tom and the scout master had already arranged this, and when the third scout was heard to say he felt as hungry as a wolf, tom took it upon himself to explain. "if you look ahead," he remarked, so that all could hear, "you'll notice where a hump of the mountain seems to hang over the road. that's about where we expect to rest an hour or so." "must be something unusual about this particular place, i should say, for you to settle on it ahead of time this way," remarked wise josh in his yankee way. "there is," tom informed him. "according to my map here, and what information i've been able to pick up, there's a fine cold spring bubbles up alongside the road right there; and for one i'm feeling the need of a good drink the worst kind." after that it was noticed that even the laggards began to show unusual energy, as if the prospect of soon being able to throw themselves down and slake their thirst, as well as satisfy their hunger, appealed forcibly to them. it was close on to noon when finally, with a shout, they hurried forward and dropped their packs close to where the ice-cold spring flowed. "queer how heavy those old packs do get the longer you carry them," observed george, as he waited for his turn to lie down and drink his fill of the spring water. "you're a suspicious sort of fellow, george," declared felix; "i've seen you turn around as quick as a flash, just as if you thought some other scout might be hanging his pack on to yours, so as to make you carry double." george turned redder than he had already become under the force of the sun; but he did not deny the accusation. it was decided not to light a fire at noon. they could eat a cold lunch and wash it down with water. "we'll keep our fire for this evening," said mr. witherspoon; "you know it is generally quite a ceremony--the starting of the first campfire when scouts go off on a long trip." waiting until the sun had started well on his way down the heavens, and there had arisen a little breeze that made it more bearable, the scout master finally had felix sound his fish horn for the signal to "fall in." some of the boys did not show quite as much animation as on that other occasion. they were not accustomed to walking for hours, and would have to get used to it through experience. an hour later they were straggling along, some of them on the other side of a wire fence that separated the road from the woods, as there seemed to be a chance of making interesting discoveries there. "look at that red squirrel hanging head down to the bark on the trunk of that tree!" exclaimed billy button; "i never noticed just how they did that stunt before." "huh! lots of us are seeing things through a magnifying glass since we joined the scouts," admitted felix. "seems as if the scales have been taken from my eyes, and i find a thousand things worth looking at all around me." "well, here comes one right now, felix; and he's a bouncer at that!" cried the third of the group that had invaded the woods beyond the barbed-wire fence. even as he spoke there was a furious barking, and a savage-looking dog came tearing swiftly toward them, evidently bent on doing mischief. chapter xii the first camp-fire "help, he's going to eat us all up!" shouted billy button. felix and rob shaefer did not like the looks of the oncoming dog any more than did billy. being more pugnacious by nature, however, instead of making a frantic dash over the wire fence, and trying to crawl through between the strands at the risk of tearing their clothes, they hurried to snatch up some clubs which would serve them as a means of defence. the dog acted as if he meant business. they were trespassing on his master's territory, and as the guardian appointed to defend this ground he assailed the intruders without fear or favor. they had quite a lively time of it, what with the shouting, the loud bursts of laughter from those scouts who were safe on the other side of the fence, and the agonized cries of billy button, caught fast in the grip of the barbed-wire, and expecting to be devoured. both felix and rob had luckily managed to secure fairly strong pieces of broken limbs from the trees. with these they boldly assaulted the dog, and kept him from jumping on the helpless comrade until some of the others came to billy's assistance, and by raising the wires allowed him to crawl through. tom and george hastened to join in the fray for it was evident that the savage dog would have to be beaten off before those who were in danger could find a chance to reach the road again. with four enemies against him the dog concluded that he had done all that could be expected of him, and that it was now no dishonor to beat a masterly retreat; which he accordingly did. the boys pretended to chase after him, with loud shouts; but seeing their opportunity to escape made haste to put the wire fence between themselves and the owner of those cruel white fangs. as long as he could follow them from his side of the barrier the dog continued to bark savagely; but did not offer to leave his own domain. after all billy button was the only one to suffer, and he had a fine big three-cornered hole in his coat. "going into the real-estate business, are you, billy?" asked josh, who could always see a chance for a joke. "oh! am i?" retorted the other. "what makes you think that, josh?" "because you've got a sign up 'to rent,'" is what the other told him. "didn't i see that dog take hold of you by the leg, felix, at the time you struck him so hard on the head with your club?" mr. witherspoon asked. "yes, sir, but he only dented my leggings, you see," the bugler replied, as he showed where the marks of the animal's teeth could be plainly seen; "that's the good of having extra-thick canvas leggings on; they save you from snake bites and all sorts of other things that you don't want." "it was a pretty lively skirmish while it lasted, let me tell you," admitted rob shaefer, who had seemed quite to enjoy the affair. another hour or more passed, with the column straggling along, and some of the boys showing positive signs of fatigue. mr. witherspoon had been consulting with the leader of the black bear patrol, and evidently they had reached a conclusion, for presently the welcome order was given to turn into the woods, as the day's hike was at an end. gladly did those tired lads obey the call. and one of the first things they discovered was that there was another cold spring nearby, the presence of which, of course, had been known to those who carried the chart of the region. first of all they dropped down to rest themselves. later on, when they were feeling more like doing things, they would start to put the camp in order, get the fires started, and perhaps erect some sort of rude shelter that to a certain degree would take the place of tents. finally some of the more enterprising began to stir around. josh took it upon himself to provide a fireplace made out of stones which lay conveniently near. it was to be built according to the best formula he knew, something in the shape of a letter v, with the large end toward the wind; and across the top of the stones they would lay their iron rods, thus forming a gridiron on which would rest the frying-pan and the coffee-pot. "i'll duplicate your cooking fire, josh," said rob shaefer, who meant to show some of his new chums a few wrinkles he had learned when in camp on other occasions. half an hour before the sun went down both fires were crackling at a great rate; and when good beds of red embers should have formed operations looking to supper would be started by those in charge of the occasion. everybody took a deep interest in what was now going on. all sorts of suggestions were called back and forth as the ham was sliced and the potatoes put in the pots for boiling; while further along the fires the two coffee-pots began to emit a most delightful and appetizing odor that made the hungry boys wild with impatience. the spot where they had determined to spend their first night out was in the midst of the woods. around them the forest trees lay on every side, some being great oaks, others beeches, with drooping branches and smooth silvery bark--as well as other species, such as sycamore, ash and lindens. most of the scouts were bubbling over with enthusiasm concerning the outlook before them; but several of the less daring ones might be seen casting furtive glances about as though the prospect of passing the night amidst such lonely surroundings had already commenced to make them feel a little queer. no doubt the pride of these fellows would carry them through the initial night; and after that by degrees they would become accustomed to their new experiences. every soldier can look back to his first battle, remembering how he trembled in his shoes, and feeling that he would give all he possessed for the privilege of running away at top speed. and when supper was ready, with the boys gathered around, each bent on doing the best he knew how to show his appreciation of the work of the cooks, it seemed to be the fitting climax to a most wonderful day. would they ever forget that supper? never had anything tasted so royally good at home. "this is the life!" declared josh kingsley, buoyantly, as he passed his tin plate along for a second helping when he heard it mentioned that there was still a further supply not distributed. "it certainly does taste pretty fine to me!" admitted horace crapsey, who had in times gone by been so finicky about his eating that his folks had begun to wonder what was going to become of him--yet who was now sitting there cross-legged like a turk, wielding an ordinary knife and fork, and with his pannikin on his lap, actually doing without a napkin, and enjoying it in the bargain. mr. witherspoon had the seat of honor, for the boys insisted that he should occupy the highest place on the log that had been rolled near the fires. he observed all that went on with satisfaction. boys were close to his heart, and he never tired of his hobby of studying them. it was a constant source of delight to the scout master to listen to them chatter, and he noticed that a perceptible change was taking place in some of his charges since first joining the troop. finally when every youth admitted that he had had all he could eat, mr. witherspoon got up. "now it's full time we started our _real_ campfire," he announced. "that was why i had you gather such a big heap of wood. here's the right place for the blaze, as we must be careful not to scorch any of the trees, the branches of which hang down over us, because this property belongs to some one, and we must respect his rights." he had no trouble about finding willing workers, because every one acted as if anxious to have a hand in the building of that first campfire, to be recorded in the annals of lenox troop as an event of unusual importance. when finally the pyramid had been carefully built the scout master was asked to apply the match. "unfortunately i do not know the customary procedure on such momentous occasions," he told the boys, as they formed a circle around the pile; "and all i can say is that with this match i am about to dedicate this fire to the useful purpose of bringing all our hearts in tune with our surroundings. for to-night then, we will try to believe ourselves real vagabonds, or children of the forest, sitting around the sanctuary at which every camper worships--the crackling fire!" then the blaze began to seize hold of the wood, and amidst the cheers of the enthusiastic scouts the fire got fully under way. high leaped the red flames, so that presently there was a general backward movement, on account of the heat. had it been november instead of june, they would doubtless have enjoyed the cheery warmth much more. each boy managed to pick out a comfortable place, and then the talk began to grow general. plans for the morrow and the succeeding days were being discussed with much ardor. it was while this was going on, and the scouts were all feeling most happy that with but scant warning a discomforting element was suddenly injected into camp content. moving figures, harsh voices, together with the half strangled barks of dogs held in leash startled the seated campers. two rough-looking men, evidently a farmer and his hired man, armed with guns, and holding a couple of dogs by ropes, came in sight close by. chapter xiii the life that might have been saved "hey! what d'ye mean by trespassin' on my ground? i'll have the law on ye for darin' to build a big bonfire like that! no tramp convention c'n threaten to set fire to my woods, let me tell ye!" the man in the lead was shouting this in an angry voice as he bustled forward, with his dog growling and straining to get free. of course every one of the boys scrambled to his feet in a hurry. the sight of their khaki uniforms seemed to give the big farmer a decided shock, for they saw him come to a stop. "what's this here?" he exclaimed, as he stared at the dozen lads. "tell me, am i seein' things bill scruggs? is it the state militia dropped down on us? is there a war on?" mr. witherspoon, who was of course in uniform, stepped to the front and made the old fellow a military salute that must have gone far toward soothing his ruffled feelings. "we're sorry if we've intruded on your ground, sir," he said in that convincing voice of his. "the fact is these are some of the boy scouts of lenox, a troop that has lately been organized. i am robert witherspoon, the surveyor, and if i'm not mistaken i did some work for you a few months ago, mr. brush." "that's a fact ye did, mr. witherspoon," declared the farmer, with less venom in his tone. "seems like i didn't know ye with them togs on." "i'm acting as scout master to these lads just now," continued the other, in his conciliatory way. "one of the rules of the organization is that each troop must have a grown person to serve with them, so that any undue boyish spirits may be kept within reasonable bounds." "so i read in the paper, mr. witherspoon," continued the countryman. "won't you tie up your dogs, mr. brush, and come and join us here before the fire?" asked the scout master, who doubtless had more or less faith in the ability of a cheery blaze to curb animosity. they saw the farmer rub his chin with his hand. he seemed to be debating within himself as to whether or not it would be advisable to comply with such a friendly invitation. "well, p'raps i mightn't git such a good chance to look scouts over again as this here one," he presently said, half to himself. "i've been reading a hull lot lately 'bout the doin's of the boys. got three lads o' my own yet," and there he was seen to swallow something that seemed almost to choke him. "then for their sake you ought to be interested in this great movement, mr. brush," said the scout master; "i remember a bright boy of yours who was very much interested in the little surveying work i did for you that day. he helped me some, and said he thought he'd like to be a civil engineer when he grew up. if he joined the scouts that desire might be encouraged, sir, i assure you." "oh, they been pesterin' the life outen me to let 'em jine, but i ain't had no faith in the thing," mr. brush went on to say, with a stubborn shake of the head. he had by this time tied up his dog, and was accepting a seat on the log close to the obliging scout master. the boys were satisfied to let mr. witherspoon do the most of the talking. they could see that he meant to open the eyes of this unbeliever, and show him a few things that he ought to know. "just why did you frown on the scout movement, may i ask, sir?" mr. witherspoon continued, quietly. "well, in the fust place i don't calc'late that my boys be brought up to be food for gunpowder," replied the farmer. "then like a good many people you think boy scouts in this country are intended to become a part of the military defences; is that it, mr. brush?" "do you mean to tell me it ain't so, mr. witherspoon?" asked the farmer. "nothing is further from the truth than that, as i'll prove to you in a dozen ways, if you care to listen," the scout master told him. "fire away, then," said the farmer. "i'm not hide-bound ye know, and allers open to conviction; so tell me why i orter let my three boys jine the scouts." mr. witherspoon started in and explained the fundamental principles upon which the new movement was organized. he soon convinced the farmer that there was not the slightest intention on the part of those having the matter in hand to incorporate the scouts into a national defence movement. "was that the only objection you had, mr. brush?" he asked when the farmer frankly admitted that he had been wrong in his opinion. "i reckoned that these boys only got together and wore uniforms for a big lark," was the reply to his question. "i ought to know what boys is like, havin' had four of my own." "then you have lost one, have you sir?" questioned the scout master, not from idle curiosity, either, tom chesney felt positive. the old man heaved a great sigh. "yes, my youngest, and the darling o' his maw's heart, little jim. only last summer he was off swimmin' with several o' his chums, and got caught with a cramp. they got him out, brave enough, but--he never kim to agin." mr. witherspoon cast a quick and meaning glance around the circle of eager faces. several of the scouts nodded in a significant fashion as though they guessed what was flashing through the mind of their leader. "mr. brush," said the scout master, gravely, "i'd like to tell you some things that to my own personal knowledge scouts have done; things that they never would have been capable of performing in the wide world had they remained outside of this organization that first of all teaches them to be manly, independent, helpful to others, and true to themselves. may i, sir?" "jest as ye please, mr. witherspoon," came the low reply, for the farmer had evidently been partly overcome with the sad remembrance of the vacant chair, and the face he missed so much at his table. the scout master went about it in a very able manner. again he explained the numerous duties of a scout, and how he was taught to render first aid to the injured in case, for instance, his services should ever be needed when some comrade cut himself with an ax, and was in peril of bleeding to death. "there are other ways," mr. witherspoon continued, "in which the scout is instructed to be able to depend on himself should he be lost in the wilderness, caught in a tornado, tempted to take refuge in a barn, or under an exposed tree during a thunder storm." "all o' that sounds mighty interestin', i must say, sir!" commented the farmer, deeply interested. "to my own personal knowledge, mr. brush," finally said the other, "on three separate occasions i have known of cases where a boy in swimming was apparently dead when dragged from the water after having been under for several minutes; in every one of those instances his scout companions, working according to the rules that had become a part of their education, managed to revive the fluttering spark of life and save the lad!" there was an intense silence as the last word was spoken. every one of those boys realized how terribly the man was suffering, for they could see his face working. presently he looked up, with a groan that welled from his very heart. "jest a year too late, sir!" he said, in an unsteady voice. "oh, why didn't ye come last june? my little jim was alive then, and the apple of my eye. if he'd jined the scouts he might a be'n with us right now. a year too late--it's hard, hard!" "but you said you have three boys still, mr. brush?" said the scout master. "so i have, and mighty dear they be to me too!" exclaimed the farmer, as he proceeded to bring down his ponderous fist on his knee, "and arter what you've told me this night, sir, they cain't be scouts any too soon to please me. i've had my lesson, and it was a bitter one. i'm right glad ye kim along to-night, and camped in my big woods, where we seen the light o' yer fire." "and we're glad too, mr. brush," said the scout master, while several of the boys were heard to cough as though taken with a sudden tickling in their throats. long they sat there talking. mr. brush became an ardent advocate of the scout movement, and even made an arrangement for his boys to join the new patrol being formed, though it would mean many a trip in and out of lenox for him in his new cheap motor car, in order that they attend the weekly meetings. after all that was an evening long to be remembered. tom chesney, who kept a regular log of the outing, meaning to enter his account in a competition for a prize that had been offered by a metropolitan daily, found a fine chance to spread himself when jotting down the particulars. the farmer could hardly tear himself away from the crackling fire. three times he said he must be going, yet did not stir, which quite amused josh kingsley and felix robbins. "our scout master sure must have missed his calling when he set out to be a civil engineer and surveyor," whispered the former in the ear of felix. "that's so," replied the other, "for while he may be a pretty good civil engineer, he'd made a crackerjack of a lawyer or a preacher. when he talks somehow you just hang on every word he says, and it convinces you deep down. that old farmer on a jury would do whatever mr. witherspoon wanted. but it's been worth hearing; and i'm a heap glad to be a scout, after listening to what he's been saying." finally the owner of the woods shook hands all around with them, and accompanied by his hired man and the two dogs respectfully took his departure. chapter xiv at the foot of big bear mountain it took them a long time to get settled on that night. some of the scouts were about to experience their first camp sleep. they had to be shown just how to arrange their blankets, and what to do about the customary pillow upon which they wished to rest their heads. tom, josh and rob shaefer, having been through the mill before, explained these things. they even helped the tenderfeet fill with hemlock browse the little cotton bag, which had possibly once held flour, and which each scout had been advised to carry along in his pack. "they'll be worth their weight in gold many times on the trip," said tom, when even mr. witherspoon stood listening with interest, for he had not as yet learned everything, he was free to confess. "but do we have to carry them along with us like that?" asked horace as he held up the rather bulky object he had made of his cotton slip. "certainly not," he was informed; "you empty it before breaking camp, and in the evening fill it again. plenty of hemlock or spruce handy, whenever you choose to stretch out your hand and pluck it." "you must show me about all these things," billy button remarked. "to tell the truth i don't know the difference between balsam, fir, spruce, hemlock, larch and some other trees i've heard you talking about." "i'll begin to-morrow, and you'll find it simple enough," tom promised him. after all the night really passed without any disturbance. tom and rob managed to wake up a number of times, and getting quietly out of their snug nests, they renewed the fire, thus keeping it going all through the night. had any one been watching closely they probably would have seen a head bob up occasionally, the owner take a cautious look around, and then drop back again as though convinced that all was well, with no danger of ferocious wild beasts raiding the camp. these were the tenderfeet of the troop. they of course could not sleep save in snatches, and the strangeness of their surroundings caused them to feel more or less nervous. all they heard, however, was the barking of farmer brush's watch dogs or some little woods animal complaining because these two-legged intruders had disturbed the peace of their homeland. with the coming of dawn there was a stir in camp. then one by one the scouts crawled out from their blankets, all but two greenhorns. "let them sleep a while longer," said mr. witherspoon. "i fancy neither of them passed a very comfortable night." and at this the other boys moderated their voices as they proceeded to get an early breakfast ready, though in no hurry to leave that pleasant camp content. of course both the laggards were up and ready by the time the call to breakfast was heard in the land. it may be that the smell of the eggs and bacon frying and the aromatic coffee's bubbling had much to do with arousing them. while they were eating who should appear but the hired man of farmer brush. he had a big basket on his arm, also a note for the scout master. "i have to go to town early this morning or i'd fetch these few things myself," the note ran; "i want you to accept them from me with my compliments, and my hearty thanks for your entertainment last night. i have hardly slept a wink thinking about what you told me; and next meeting me and my boys will be on hand. "ezra brush. "p.s. the chickens my wife sends you, and she says they are tender enough to fry." besides the four chickens, all ready for cooking, there was a fine print of new butter, as well as a carton of several dozen eggs fresh from the coop. "three cheers for mr. brush, fellows!" cried tom, after the scout master had read the note aloud; and they were given with a will, much to the entertainment of bill, who stood there and grinned broadly. it was about eight o'clock when the column started once more. they meant to leave the main road they had been following up to this time, for it did not run in the direction they wanted to go. there was another smaller one which they expected to follow, for that day at least, and which skirted the base of the mountain, even ascending it in several places, as their map showed. "it will be our last day on any sort of road, if we follow out the programme as arranged," tom chesney explained, as they sat around at noon munching the "snack" each scout had been commissioned to prepare at breakfast time against his being hungry in the middle of the day, when they would not care to start a fire in order to do any cooking. "you mean we expect to push right up the mountain and begin exploring the country, don't you, tom?" asked josh between bites. "yes, and three of the fellows intend to make maps as we go, for practice," the leader of the black bear patrol explained. "all i hope is," commented billy button, anxiously, "that we don't manage to get lost. i've got a very important engagement a week from friday that i wouldn't want to miss." "huh, guess i'm in the same box," chuckled josh; "anyway i promised to be sitting in my usual chair with my feet under our dining table on that same day; and it'd grieve my heart if i missed connections." the middle of that june day proved to be very warm, and the boys decided to lie around for several hours. when the sun had got well started down the western sky perhaps there might be a little more life in the air. besides, they were in no hurry; so what was the use of exerting themselves unduly? "i hope it isn't going to storm!" suggested carl, as they sprawled under the shady tree where they had halted for the noon rest, each youth in as comfortable an attitude as he could assume. "oh, is there any chance of a terrible storm dropping down on us, do you think?" asked horace crapsey, looking troubled; for although none of the others knew it, the crash of the thunder and the play of lightning had struck terror to his soul ever since the time he had been knocked down, when a tree near his house was shattered by a bolt from the clouds. "not that you can see right now," josh informed him, a little contemptuously; with a strong boy's feeling toward one who shows signs of being afraid; "but when it's summer time and when, in the bargain, a day has been as hot as this one, you never can tell." "that's so, josh," george kingsley remarked, wagging his head as though for once he actually agreed with something that had been said; "a simmering day often coaxes a storm along. it may hit us toward night-time, or even come on any hour afterwards when we're sleeping like babes in the woods." "but what can we do for shelter?" asked billy button; "we haven't got even a rag for a tent; and once we get soaked it'll be a hard job to dry our suits, you know." "leave that to us, billy," tom told him, confidently. "first of all every scout has a rubber poncho; two of these fastened together will make what they call a dog tent, under which a couple of fellows can tuck themselves, and keep the upper part of their bodies dry. soldiers always use them." "yes," added rob shaefer; "and if it looks like rain to-night we'll raise several brush shanties. by making use of the rubber blankets they can be kept as dry as a bone. scouts must learn how to meet every possible condition that can rise up. that's a big part of the fun, once you've begun to play the game." billy seemed to be much impressed by this cheering intelligence; and even horace smiled again, having recovered from his little panic. it was almost three o'clock when the signal was given for a start. they took it slowly, and in the next two hours had probably covered little more than two miles. they were still loitering along the road that skirted the foot of the big bear mountain. "as we have some extra cooking to do to-night, boys," the scout master told them, "we had better pull up here where we can get fine water. that's one of the things you must always look for when camping, remember." nothing pleased the scouts better than the prospect of stopping, and starting supper, for they were tired, and hungry in the bargain. "if we didn't want to eat these fowls right away," tom remarked, "i'd suggest that we bake them in a hot oven made in the ground. that's the original cooker, you know. but it takes a good many hours to do it." "another time, perhaps, when we're stopping several days in one camp we'll get some more chickens, tom," said the scout master, "and have you show us just how it is done. i've heard of the old-time scheme, but never tasted anything cooked in a mud oven." everything looked calm and peaceful just then, but after all that was a deception and a snare. even while the cooks were starting in to cut up the chickens so that the various parts might be placed in the two big frying-pans, after a certain amount of fat salt pork had been "tried out," and allowed to get fiercely hot, josh, who happened to be seen coming from the spring with a coffee-pot of water called out: "well, here comes your storm cloud all right, horace; only instead of a ducking we stand a chance of getting a licking from another enraged tiller of the soil!" chapter xv not guilty "whew! but he looks even madder than mr. brush did!" exclaimed billy button, when he saw the advancing man snap his whip furiously, as though to warn them what to expect on his arrival. every scout was now on his feet and watching. "there's his wagon over on the road," said carl; "he must have been passing and have seen us here. i wonder if we've trespassed on _his_ private property now. mr. witherspoon, you'd better get ready to hypnotize another mad farmer." "he's got his eye on our chickens, let me tell you!" urged josh, as he moved over a few paces, as though meaning to defend the anticipated treat desperately if need be. the man was a big brawny fellow, and very angry at that. mr. witherspoon faced him without a sign of alarm, even smiling, because conscious of having given no reasonable cause for an assault. "that cracking of his whip isn't going to scare us a bit," muttered the pugnacious josh; "he'd better not lay it on me for one, or any of my chums, that's what!" the man could hardly speak at first, from the effect of his anger, together with his hasty rush from the road up to the camp. then holding his threatening whip in one hand he pointed a quivering finger straight toward the fowls that they were expecting to have for their supper, and which could no longer be concealed by josh. "so," bellowed the man, "now i know where the chickens that were stolen from my coop last night went. raidin' the farms up this way, are you? i want to tell you it's going to be a bad job for every one of ye. i'll have the law on ye if i have to go to lenox and look every boy in town over. and i'll know ye all again, if its a month from now." he snapped the whip viciously as he stopped talking; but mr. witherspoon did not seem to shrink back an inch. looking the excited farmer squarely in the eye the scout master started to speak. "i judge from what you say, sir, that you have had the misfortune to lose some of your poultry lately? i'm sorry to hear of it, but when you come and accuse us of being the guilty parties you are making a serious mistake, sir." "oh, am i?" demanded the other, still as furious as ever, though the boys noticed that he made no effort to use the dreadful whip he carried. "i lost some fowls, and you're expecting to have some chickens for dinner. anybody with hoss sense could put them facts together, couldn't they? i ain't to be blarnied so easy, let me tell you." "you seem to talk as though no one owned chickens up this bear mountain way but yourself, sir," said mr. witherspoon, calmly. "these lads are boy scouts. they are a part of the lenox troop, and i can vouch for every one of them as being honest, and incapable of stealing any man's fowls." "you don't say, mister?" sneered the man; "but tell me, who's a-goin' to vouch for you, now?" "my name is robert witherspoon," replied the scout master, showing wonderful self-control the boys thought, considering the insulting manner of the angry farmer. "i am a civil engineer and surveyor. i love boys every way i find them; and it is a pleasure to me to act as their scout master, accompanying them on their hikes when possible, and seeing that they behave themselves in every way. you can find out about my standing from judge jerome, doctor lawson or pastor hotchkiss in lenox." the man still looked in mr. witherspoon's calm eyes. what he saw there seemed to have an influence upon his aroused feelings, for while he still shook his head skeptically there was not so much of menace in his manner now. "boys will be boys, no matter whether they have scout uniforms on or overalls," he said sullenly. "i've suffered mor'n once from raids on my orchards and chicken coops, and found it was some town boys, off on what they called a lark, that made other people suffer." "but i assure you there is not the slightest possibility of any boy here having taken your chickens, sir," continued the scout master. "we've been on the move all day long," added tom, "and only arrived here half an hour back. last night we were several miles away in camp." "but--you got chickens, and i was robbed last night," faltered the farmer, as though that fact impressed him as evidence that no argument could keep down. "if we could prove to you," continued mr. witherspoon, "that we came by these four fowls honestly, i hope you will be frank enough to apologize to my boys for unjustly suspecting them of being hen thieves?" "go on then and do it, mister; but i warn you i'm sot in my ways, and hard to convince. it's got to be a mighty likely yarn that'll fotch me over." "you've lived around here some time, i take it?" asked mr. witherspoon. "man and boy forty-seven years," came the reply. "then you must know ezra brush, for he was born in the farm house he occupies to this day?" suggested the scout master. "i know ezra like a book. him and me have always been good friends, except for that boundary dispute which took us to court; but i reckon ezra don't hold no grudge agin me 'cause i won out. "we had mr. brush sitting beside our campfire for two hours last night, while i told him all about the things boy scouts are taught. he means to have his three boys join the troop at the next meeting; for he knows now that if his little jim and some of his companions had been scouts, the boy's life in all probability would have been saved last summer." "it might have been," admitted the farmer, "if them other lads had knowed what to do, but before a man got there it was too late. and ezra certainly sot some store by that bright-faced little jim; everybody keered for him, he was so winnin' in his ways." "well," continued mr. witherspoon with a smile, for he was certain of his ground by this time, and the whip hung listlessly alongside the farmer's leg; "we made so good an impression on mr. brush that early this morning his man bill came over with a basket, and also this note. please read it, sir." he placed the paper in the other's hand; and leaning down so that the waning light of the setting sun might fall on the writing the farmer seemed to take in the contents of the note. when he looked up he no longer scowled, but let his eyes rove around at the faces of the scouts, all filled with eager anticipation. "well, i was wrong to say what i did, i owns up," he commenced, making a wry face, as though it was rather an unusual thing for him to admit being anything but right; "and since i promised to apologize to ye, boys i'm ready to do it. chickens all looks alike after they've been plucked and the heads cut off; but 'cordin' to what that note reads these here are brush fowls and not from the perkins coop." mr. witherspoon nodded his head, and his eyes twinkled. "are you satisfied to accept mr. perkins' apology, boys, in the same spirit in which it is given?" he asked, looking at his charges. of course there was an immediate response, and in the affirmative too. boys are not apt to harbor any deep resentment, once the accusation is withdrawn. "there, you see these boys are not the ones to hold it against you, mr. perkins," the scout master continued. "did you see the thieves who were in your hen house last night, mr. perkins?" asked tom, as though he had some object in making the inquiry. "wall, no, though i heard the racket when my chickens got to squawkin', and run to the coop with a gun; but the pesky rascals had cleared out with half a dozen of my best young fowls. i reckoned to larn where they was, and i'm on my way to town right now with a load of stuff, meanin' to make a few inquiries in the mornin'." he grinned as he fumbled at the pocket of his coat. "what have you got there, mr. perkins?" asked tom. "it's a boy's cap as was left in my coop last night," declared the farmer; "and a queer lookin' one at that. guess they might tell me who it fits in lenox." every eye was focused on the cap which he held up. it was indeed of an odd color, and very likely the only one of the kind in that section. josh kingsley laughed out loud. "guess we ought to know that cap, fellows!" he exclaimed. "the last time i saw the same it was perked on the red head of tony pollock." chapter xvi what to do in a storm "would you mind letting me see that cap for a minute, mr. perkins?" asked the leader of the black bear patrol. the farmer seemed to hesitate as though loth to let his only evidence go out of his hand; but after one good look at the smiling countenance of tom chesney apparently he felt ashamed of suspecting that so clean-looking a boy could mean to deceive him in any way. so he passed the head-gear over. knowing that tom must have some object in making this request the other scouts pushed closer and watched eagerly. they saw him turn the cap partly inside out. "i thought as much," tom remarked laughingly, at the same time carefully picking several tiny objects up, which he held before the eyes of the admiring farmer, who had doubtless never before heard of such a thing as "scoutcraft." "look for yourself, mr. perkins," tom said exultantly; "you will have no difficulty in recognizing these as fiery red hairs. the boy mentioned by my chum here, has a brick-top like that. i should say the evidence is about as conclusive as anything could be." mr. perkins' mouth had opened wide. he was apparently thunder-struck by the cleverness displayed by this stripling in clinching the guilt of the party who had stolen his spring chickens. "tell me his name again, bub," he said turning to josh; "i calc'late makin' it some warm for him unless i gets pretty good pay for them fowls." "his name is tony pollock," he was told with a grin, for somehow josh seemed to be tickled over the retribution that was likely to overtake the boy who had for so long a time acted as a bully in lenox. after some talk the farmer withdrew, taking with him his evidence in the shape of the queer checked cap, and also the best wishes of the assembled scouts, who gave him a cheer as he drove away. he had even promised to drop around at a couple of their houses with messages hastily scribbled, to the effect that the boys were very well, and having the time of their lives. needless to say that those who sent these were the tender feet of the troop. horace and billy, who imagined that their respective mothers must be lying awake nights in mortal fear lest something dreadful had happened to the heretofore pampered darlings. most of the other boys were accustomed to being away from home, and prided themselves on being able to show the spirit of veteran campers. the fowls turned out to be the peer of any the boys had ever tasted. indeed with the chicken cooked a delicate brown by those in charge, and seasoned with the keen appetites a day in the open air is apt to give a boy, that supper must always linger in their memories as a bright spot never to be excelled. by now the greenhorns would be getting more accustomed to seeing the woods all around them, and probably sleep better than they did before. the second night in camp always does find everybody feeling more at ease, and settling down for a good rest. they had no reason to find fault with anything that happened to them after the departure of mr. perkins. the stars came out in the heavens and there was apparently no sign of rain. to satisfy the more timid boys, tom and rob shaefer had started on a brush shanty, which they so far completed that it could be changed into a fair shelter by making use of their rubber ponchos. it was not really needed, though several of the boys chose to make up their beds under its arched roof, mentioning that they might feel the dew if it happened to prove heavy. again they prepared breakfast, and then started off with a day's tramp ahead of them that would differ in many respects from anything as yet encountered. this was because they expected to strike boldly up the side of the massive mountain that reared its head far above them, its slopes covered for the most part with a heavy growth of timber. this, however, thinned out the nearer one came to the summit, which in turn was composed of bald rocks, grim and silent, save when some eagle gave its shrill scream from a projecting crag. they took their last look at the little road, and then tom led the way into the heart of the wild growth. just as they had anticipated it was a great deal more difficult going now, for there was no trail save an occasional cowpath which might lead down to the creek, or anywhere else; and to which, for this reason, they could not pay any attention. when noon came there was a loud call for a halt. while every boy was too proud to confess that his muscles were beginning to feel sore from the continual strain, he tried pretty hard to find some plausible excuse for wanting to make a good long halt. while they were eating and fanning themselves, for it was very warm, walter douglass noticed tom glancing off toward the southwest. upon looking in that direction himself he burst out with an exclamation: "it's going to strike us this time, boys, as sure as anything!" "what another irate farmer?" cried josh, laughingly. "whatever have the scouts been doing this time to raise trouble? we've been accused of trespassing, and stealing chickens; p'raps they'll try to make out we have evil designs on some country bank." "it looks like a storm," admitted tom; upon which billy button began to stare at the clouds in plain sight, and horace seemed to be listening anxiously to catch the first distant mutter of thunder in the air. "if you are all through eating," said mr. witherspoon, "perhaps we had better move out of this. i'm not the best judge of such things, but i think we could find a better spot than this to stay during the storm." "there! listen to that, will you?" exclaimed george as they heard a heavy boom that seemed to throb on the heavily charged air like the roar of a monster siege gun. horace was looking a little pale, though he set his teeth hard together, and apparently had made up his mind to at least refrain from showing the white feather, no matter how frightened he felt. they did up their packs, keeping the rubber ponchos out, according to the advice of the patrol leader. "at the worst we can put our heads through the slit in the center," he explained to them; "and then it serves as a waterproof to keep the upper part of you dry. but perhaps we can find an overhanging shelf of rock under which all of us can crawl." "but how about that fine big tree yonder, couldn't we take shelter under that?" asked horace, pointing to a massive oak with wide-spreading branches that made a canopy through which even a downpour of rain could hardly penetrate. "never!" tom told him hastily. "a tree standing apart like that is always one of the most dangerous places you can select when seeking shelter from an electrical storm. far better stay out and take your little soaking than to take chances in a barn, or under an isolated tree. in the forest it is not so bad, where there are hundreds of trees; but then you ought to be careful which one you select. lightning loves a shining mark, you know." "but that big tree has stood for one or two hundred years and never been hit by lightning," objected horace, who could not understand exactly. "so have others that i've seen shattered to fragments," mr. witherspoon told him, "but their time came at last, and without warning. we can't afford to accept the risk. there is only one safe way, and that is to avoid dangerous places." the thunder grew louder with every peal. there were vivid flashes of lightning, too, each of which caused horace to start and close his eyes, though he bravely suppressed the groan that seemed ready to burst from his lips. tom, as well as mr. witherspoon, josh and rob shaefer, was constantly on the lookout for some sign of shelter. the ground seemed to favor the possibility of finding something in the line of overlapping lines of rock, which, forming a mushroom ledge, would screen them from the violence of the expected downpour. after all, the honor of making the discovery went to carl. "look over yonder between those bushes, sir; doesn't that seem to be about the kind of place you're after?" he called out, clutching the scout master by the arm. so impressed was mr. witherspoon by what he saw that he immediately directed all of his charges to make for the spot pell-mell. the first big drops were coming down as they arrived, to find that, sure enough, the ledges of stone cropped out as much as six or seven feet. "crawl under wherever you can find a good place, and lie quiet!" ordered the scout master; and in several detachments they proceeded to get out of the rain, now commencing to fall heavily. the wind rushed through the branches with a furious shriek; the thunder crashed; they heard several trees fall under the strain; and then without warning came a blinding flash, with a terrific ear-splitting roar of thunder accompanying it. horace, who with a number of others was in the cavity tom had chosen, shrank close to the leader of the black bear patrol. "oh, tom!" he cried, when his voice could be heard, "didn't that sound right from where that magnificent big oak tree stood that i wanted to get under?" "just what it did!" josh kingsley told him, vehemently, while tom said: "we'll investigate after the storm is over, horace; but right now i'm of the opinion your fine oak is lying shattered into fragments by the bolt that fell!" chapter xvii the landslide "whether that's so or not," said the trembling horace, "i feel that i've learned a lesson. i own up that i'm terribly afraid of lightning; but after this i'm going to face it, even if i have to lie out in the storm, rather than take chances." it became difficult to carry on any sort of conversation, what with all the racket around them. the wind blew, the rain fell in sheets, and the thunder boomed so continuously that one deep-toned roll hardly died away before there would come another crash that made everybody start. still they were a thankful lot of boys as they lay under the ledges and counted the minutes creep past. "we've managed to keep our jackets tolerably dry after all," announced josh, at a time when there happened to be a little slackening of the gale; "and that's what everybody couldn't have done under the same conditions." "well, i should say not," another scout declared; "i know lots of fellows who think themselves extra smart around town, and yet put them up here and they'd either have been knocked out hiding under a tree that was struck, or else soaked through to the skin." "it takes scouts to figure things out when the supreme test comes," said josh. "yes, _some_ scouts," added felix, drily; as much as to tell josh not to plume himself too highly, because this was not his bright thought. a more terrific peal of thunder than any they had yet heard except that one outburst, stopped their talking for a brief time. "i really believe the old storm is coming back to try it all over again!" cried billy button, in dismay. "they often seem to do that," remarked another boy. "that has puzzled me more'n i can tell. what's the explanation, mr. witherspoon?" "well, as near as i can say," replied the scout master, "it's something like this. most storms have a regular rotary movement as well as their forward drift. on that account a hurricane at sea has a core or center, where there is almost a dead clam." "yes, i've read about that," interrupted josh. "sea captains always mention it when they've found themselves in the worst of a big blow. it slackens up, and then comes on again worse than ever." "but always from exactly the opposite quarter," the scout master continued. "you can see how this is, for the wind coming from the east up to the time the core of the gale strikes them, is from the west after the center has passed by. we may be about to get the other side of this little storm now." "listen to it roaring, up on the mountain?" cried horace. "i wonder what those other fellows are doing about now?" josh was heard to say, in a speculative way. "of course you mean tony pollock and his crowd," observed tom. "unless they've been as lucky as we were they're feeling pretty damp ground this time. still tony is a shrewd fellow, and may have discovered some sort of shelter before the downpour came." "i hope so," horace went on to say, for he was not at all cruel by disposition; "because i wouldn't want a dog to be out in this blow, much less boys i've known all my life, even if they have been an ugly lot." there was a short interval of violent downpour. then all at once the storm again slackened, and soon the rain ceased. horace had been whispering to tom, and the pair of them now started to crawl out from under the shelter. "where are you going, tom?" asked josh, wondering what the strange move meant. "just mean to take a little walk over here," was the reply; "we'll be back in a few minutes. horace is curious to see if it was the big oak that was struck." "i'll go along, if you don't object," said the always ready josh. "me too," called out a second scout. accordingly several of them followed tom and horace out from under the ledges. there were at least six in the group that hurried along toward the spot where the splendid oak had been noticed an hour before. they were compelled to pick their way along, for little streams of water flowed in almost every direction; besides, the trees were shedding miniature niagaras that would be very unpleasant if received in the back of the neck by any one passing underneath. in this fashion they neared the place. every boy was keenly on the lookout. "why, i don't see anything at all of the tree, and yet it certainly stood high above those smaller ones over there!" exclaimed horace, presently, with a curious little quiver of awe in his voice. ten seconds later they had advanced far enough to pass the barrier formed by those lesser forest trees. then the entire group of scouts came to a sudden stop and simply stared. horace even rubbed his eyes as if he half believed he might be dreaming. the big oak was gone! where it had stood they saw a shattered trunk not more than twenty feet high. upon the ground in every direction lay torn and twisted limbs and smaller branches, just as they had been violently hurled when that terrible electric bolt struck with such amazing force. "whew!" gasped josh, "there's an object lesson for you, horace!" "it's the same for each one of us," added tom, gravely; "and for every scout who ever hears of it." "supposing we had taken refuge under that fine old oak," suggested felix, with a shrug of his shoulders; "not one of us would have ever known what hit him." "i've seen all i want to, tom; let us go back," said horace, who looked rather white by now. "besides, i think it's going to pour down again shortly." "that's right," added another scout; "you can hear it coming over there. everybody scoot for the home base." they lost no time in retracing their steps, and just managed to reach the friendly shelter of the ledges when the rain did come down, if anything harder than ever. "there'll be a big boom in the river after this!" remarked felix, when the rain had been falling in a deluge for ten minutes. "i think it must be next door to what they call a cloud burst; wouldn't you say so, mr. witherspoon?" asked another boy. "it seems like it," he was told by the scout master. "meantime we ought to be very thankful we're so well provided for. no danger of being floated away this far up on the mountain. but the rain is going to stop presently." "getting softer already!" announced the watchful josh. "i didn't have any chance to ask you about the big oak?" mr. witherspoon continued. "there isn't any," remarked felix; "only a wreck that would make you hold your breath and rub your eyes." "then it was struck by that terrible bolt, was it?" asked the scout master. "smashed, into flinders," replied josh. "you never in all your life saw such a wreck, sir." "we'll all take a glance at it before we leave this place," the leader of the hiking troop told them. "but from the way things look there's a good chance we may think it best to put in the night right here, where we can be sure of a dry place for sleeping." "that strikes me as a good idea, sir," said tom, promptly, for he had been considering proposing that very plan himself, though of course he did not see fit to say so now. "all i hope is that the river doesn't sweep away a part of lenox," one of the boys was heard to say. "you remember that years ago, before any of us can remember, they had a bad flood, and some lives were lost." "oh yes, but that was in the spring," explained josh, "when the heavy snows melted, and what with ten days of rain the ground couldn't take up any more water. it's a whole lot different in june. besides, we've been having it pretty hot and dry lately, remember, and the earth can drink up a lot of water." "still, you never can tell what a flood will do," george was heard to say; but as they all understood his way of looking at the worst side of things none of the other boys took much stock in his gloomy predictions. "we must hustle to find some dry wood, so as to cook our supper, and keep warm afterwards," felix told them. "leave us alone to do that," josh announced. "no matter how hard it has been raining you can always get plenty of dry stuff out of the heart of a stump or a log. and thank goodness we brought an ax along with us." "say, did you feel anything then?" called out one of the other boys. "seemed to me the rocks might be trembling as they did when it thundered extra loud. there it goes again! get that, fellows?" they certainly did, and a thrill of wonder and sudden anxiety passed over them when the trembling sensation became even more pronounced. then they realized that a strange rumbling sound had arisen. it came from further up the mountain, and yet drew rapidly closer, increasing in intensity, until it began to assume the proportions of a terrible roaring, while the rocks vibrated in a sickening way. "oh! it must be an earthquake!" shrilled one scout, in alarm. "lie still, everybody!" shouted mr. witherspoon; "don't think of crawling out. it's a landslide coming down the side of the mountain!" chapter xviii camping on the lake shore for several minutes the scouts lay there and fairly held their breath in the grip of that sudden fear that had come upon them. as the rumbling noise and the sickening sensation of the rock trembling under them passed away they regained in some degree their former confidence. "the worst is over, i think," said mr. witherspoon; "but we'll stay where we are a while longer." content to abide by his judgment, and glad that they had escaped being caught in that avalanche of earth and rocks, the boys kept quiet until finally, as there was no repetition of the landslide, they were allowed to issue forth. investigation showed them where the slip had occurred. some fault in the formation of the mountain side had allowed it to happen, the conditions being just right. later on the rest of the scouts went over to view the wrecked oak, bringing back some of the splinters of wood to use in making the fire they expected to have going presently. considering the two narrow escapes they had passed through recently, one from lightning and the other from the avalanche, the boys all felt that they had reason to be thankful. "you'll have some remarkable things to set down in that log book of yours for this particular day, tom," said the scout master; "and i think you can do the subject justice. i hope to read an account of this trip in print one of these days." "oh! there's a small chance of my account taking the first prize, i'm afraid mr. witherspoon," laughed the leader of the black bear patrol; "i imagine there'll be scores of competitors in the race, and plenty of them can write things just as well as i can, perhaps even better." "yes," remarked josh, "but don't forget that every account of an outing trip has to be absolutely true. no wonderful imaginary stories will be allowed in the competition, the rules said." "yes, that's just what they did state," added felix; "you've got to have things authenticated--wasn't that the word the paper used?" "attested to in due form by the scout master who accompanied the troop," mr. witherspoon explained, smiling; "and in this case i can do that with an easy conscience." "and if things keep going as they have been lately," declared another boy, "there never was and never can be a trip so crowded with interesting happenings as this same hike of lenox troop over big bear mountain." the fire was made without any particular trouble, just as josh and some of the others had predicted. the boys knew how to get dry fuel out of the heart of a stump, and once the fire was roaring it hardly mattered what kind of wood was used, since the heat quickly dried it out. then supper was cooked as usual, only on this occasion they dispensed with some of the conditions that were not absolutely necessary, such as having two separate fires. on the whole they managed to get on, and every one admitted he could dispose of no more when finally the meal was concluded. later on the boys sat around, and while most of them compared notes regarding their experiences during the exciting day just closed, others proceeded to attend to certain duties they did not wish to postpone any longer. as for tom chesney, it was an aim with him to write out his account of daily events while they were still fresh in his mind. he was afraid many of the little details might be forgotten if he delayed; and in the end those were what would give most of the charm to the narrative of the scout doings. the storm had passed on, and above them they saw the stars peeping out once more. long into the night the steady drip of water could be heard, telling of numerous little rivulets that still ran down the side of big bear mountain, though by morning most of these would have dried up. they slept under the friendly ledges. it was, after all was said, a pretty "rocky" bed, as josh termed it; but since the ground outside was so well soaked, and there was always more or less peril in the shape of another landslide, none of the boys complained, or expressed his feelings in more than sundry grunts. with the coming of morning the strange camp was astir, and one by one the boys painfully crawled out, to try to get some of the stiffness from their limbs by jumping around and "skylarking." about nine o'clock the hike was resumed mr. witherspoon did not think it advisable to go on up the mountain any further after that avalanche; he believed they would have just as good a time passing around the base, and in the end making a complete circuit of the high elevation. the day turned out to be a delightful one after the storm. it seemed as though the air had been purified, and even in the middle of the day it was not unpleasantly warm. "we ought to make that little lake by the afternoon, oughtn't we, tom?" the scout master asked, as he plodded along at the side of the patrol leader. another consultation of the map tom carried followed, and it was decided that they must be within a half a mile of the water. ten minutes later josh declared he had caught a glimpse of the sun shining on dancing wavelets; and shortly afterwards a sudden turn brought them in full view of the pond. it was hardly more than that, covering perhaps ten acres; but the boys declared they had never set eyes on a prettier sight as they arrived on the near shore, and proceeded to make a camp there. "if we only had a canoe up here what a great time we'd have fishing," said josh, who was particularly fond of casting a fly for a trout or bass, and scorned to use the humble angleworm, as ordinary fishermen do. "what's the matter with taking a log and straddling the same?" asked tom. "three of us could manage it, one to troll with a spoon, another to cast near the shore and the third to paddle the log." "let's try that in the morning," suggested josh, eagerly; "it's too late in the day to have any great luck now. but i like the looks of that pond--and i think we might get a good string of fish from it, if the wind's right." that night their fire glowed upon the border of the water. it was a new experience, and the boys, seeing tom busily engaged in writing, told him to do full justice to the theme, for it deserved to be recorded exactly in the way they saw it. it was a comfortable night they spent by the pond, in sharp contrast to the preceding one when flattened out under the rocky ledges. every one got a good sound night's sleep, so that when morning came they were in prime condition for the work of the day. "we'll stay here to-day and not go on for another twenty-four hours," decided the scout master, as they sat around eating breakfast. "for one i'm glad to hear that," said felix; "i can hike as well as the next fellow; but just the same when i'm off for pleasure i don't like to keep moving all the time. this suits me first-rate. then i expect to do some paddling when we find the right sort of a log, with josh at the bow casting his flies, and tom at the stern trolling his phantom minnow along." the log needed was easily found, and was rolled down, to be launched in the pond. a rude paddle was also cut, with the aid of the ax and a sharp knife. felix declared he could make it answer the purpose; so presently the enterprising scouts composing the fishing party went forth, followed by the best wishes of their mates. "fix it so we have a fish dinner to-night, fellows!" billy button called out. "if you're wise you'll not make up your mouth that way; then there's no danger of being disappointed," said george. "i never expect anything, and so i meet with pleasant surprises once in a while." perhaps since the days of old robinson crusoe a more remarkable fishing party never started out than that one. the three boys had taken off shoes and socks, and rolled up their trousers above their knees. straddling the log, felix used his paddle, and, sure enough, the clumsy craft moved along fast enough to answer their desires. tom let out his line and trolled, while josh began to cast with great animation, sending his trailing flies close to the shore, and drawing them toward him in fine style. presently he struck and managed to land a fair-sized bass. then tom caught a larger one on his imitation minnow. the fun began to wax furious, so that once both the anglers chanced to be busily engaged with fish they had hooked at the same time. it was while this was going on, and their string had already reached respectable proportions, that the boys on the log heard a sound far away, up on the side of the mountain, which caused josh to exclaim: "that's a pack of dogs yapping, and they're hot on the track of some sort of game, too! it may be only a poor little cottontail, but we'll soon know, for they're heading straight in our direction. whew! listen to the yelps they give!" "there's something in the lake over yonder, and coming this way, too!" exclaimed felix "can it be a muskrat, tom, do you think, swimming on top of the water?" "not much it isn't!" cried josh from the bow of the novel craft; "it's a deer i tell you, a stag with half-grown antlers, taking to the water to escape from the hounds." chapter xix friends of the deer "yes, its a buck," announced tom, as a shout from the camp told that one of the other scouts had also discovered the swimming animal. "whew! there come the dogs along the shore!" cried felix, pointing as he spoke to where a number of swiftly-moving objects could be seen. "they've taken to the water after the deer!" exclaimed josh. "it'll be a shame if they manage to catch up with the poor thing in the pond!" felix declared; "we ought to break that game up somehow. isn't there a way?" "if we had a canoe instead of a log we might get between, and keep the dogs back," he was told by the patrol leader; "but i'm afraid we'll never be able to make it at this rate." felix had started paddling furiously even while the other was speaking. the novel craft began to move through the water much faster than at any previous time. it was really surprising how much speed it could show, when driven by that stout, if homely, paddle, held in the hands of a muscular and excited scout. tom gave directions as though he were the pilot, and while the swimming buck certainly saw them approaching he must have considered that these human enemies were not to be feared one-half as much as those merciless hounds following after him, for he swerved very little. "we're going to cut in between the deer and the dogs after all, boys!" cried the delighted josh, who was bending his body with every movement of the paddler, as though he hoped to be able in that fashion to assist the drive. "it's a pity we didn't think to bring another paddle along!" was tom's comment, "for that would have added considerably to our progress." as it was, however, they managed to intervene between the hounds and the frightened buck. josh waved both arms, and shouted threateningly at the eager dogs. they possibly did not know what to make of it, for as a rule their masters probably tempted them to chase a deer even with the law against hounding in force. "keep back there, you greedy curs!" yelled josh; and as tom and felix joined in the shouting, the last mentioned also waving his flashing paddle, the swimming dogs came to a pause. whenever they made a start as though intending to sweep past the log on which the three scouts were perched, felix, waiting for some such move, paddled vigorously to head them off. this series of obstructive tactics, coupled with the demonstration made by the other boys, served to keep the hounds in check for a certain length of time. "there, he's made the shore across on the other side of the pond!" announced tom. looking that way the boys saw the harried buck hasten out of the shallow water. he turned once on the very edge to give a single glance back toward the baffled dogs, still swimming aimlessly about, and yapping in defeat, then leaped lightly into the undergrowth and vanished from sight. "good-bye!" shouted josh, waving his hand after the rescued deer, "and good luck!" the dogs by this time had managed to flank the obstruction. "no use chasing after them any more, felix," said tom; "i think the deer has a good lead on them now, and will easily make his escape." they watched the pack swim to the shore, and noted that they came out at some little distance from the spot where the buck had left the water. "that's going to delay them still more," announced tom; "they've lost the scent, and will have to chase up and down hunting for it." sure enough the hounds ran first one way with their noses to the ground, then doubled back. it was several minutes before a triumphant yelp announced that they had finally struck the lost trail. "there they go with a rush!" said josh, as the pack was seen to start off, following the course taken by the deer. their eager yelps became less distinct as they skirted around the foot of big bear mountain. "well, that was a queer happening, wasn't it?" said tom, as they prepared to resume their fishing, which had been so singularly interrupted. "it'll make an interesting event for your note book, tom," declared felix. "a deer is seldom seen around this region," josh ventured to say; "which makes our luck all the more remarkable. i wouldn't have missed that sight for a good deal!" "i saw stanley ackerman using his camera, so let's hope he got a bunch of snapshots that'll show the whole circus," felix announced. "how about allowing dogs to roam the woods up here, tom; isn't it against the law in this state nowadays?" josh asked. "it certainly is," he was informed. "for a good many years chasing deer with hounds, and using a jack-light at nights to get them, has been strictly forbidden. time was when packs of hounds used to be met with in plenty. men would start out and hunt deer that way. then the papers took it up, and showed the cruelty of the so-called sport, and it was abolished." "according to the law anybody is allowed to shoot dogs caught in the act of running deer, especially in the summer time; isn't that right, tom?" "yes, that's what we would have had a perfect right to do if we'd had a gun along. but i don't believe that pack belonged to any one man. they are dogs that have gone wild, and having gathered together in the woods, live by hunting." "i've heard that dogs do go back to the old wolf strain sometimes," josh admitted; "and now that you mention it, tom, there was a wild look about every one of the beasts. i even thought they had half a notion to attack us at one time; but the way felix kept that paddle flashing through the air cowed them, i guess." the fishing was resumed, though all this racket seemed to have caused the bass to cease taking hold for some time. by skirting the more distant shores, close to where the water grass and reeds grew, they finally struck a good ground, and were amply rewarded for the efforts put forth. "i think the bass must have their beds on this shoal here," said tom, when they paddled back over the place at which success had come to them. "it's early in the season as yet, and a lot of them are still around here. they haven't gone out into deep water with their newly-hatched young ones." "is that what they do?" asked felix, who was not as much of a fisherman as either of his chums. "well, not immediately after the eggs hatch," tom told him. "the mother bass is going to keep her swarm of little ones in shallow water, and guard them until they get to a certain size. then she darts in among them, scatters the whole lot, after which she is done with them. they have reached an age when they must take their chances." when finally about noon the three came ashore, rather stiff from having straddled that log for such a length of time, they had a pretty fine string of fish, two of them in fact. the talk as they ate their mid-day meal was along the subject of deer hunting, and tom as well as josh had to tell all about it, as far as they knew. stanley declared he had made good use of his camera, and hoped the results would come up to expectations. all of them united in saying that it had been an adventure worth while; and apparently their sympathies were wholly with the gallant buck, for they expressed a fervent hope that he would succeed in outrunning his canine enemies. somehow in the course of the conversation mention was made of tony pollock and his crowd. "i heard tony tell a story of having seen a deer pulled down somewhere in the forest last fall by a pack of ugly dogs," related george cooper. "at the time i believed he was only yarning, though he vowed black and blue it was so. he said the dogs looked and acted so ugly that he thought it best to clear out before they turned on him." "like as not this same pack," remarked tom. "they say that once a dog has taken to that savage sort of life nothing can ever coax him to go back to living with mankind again. it's in the blood, that call of the wild." "well," chuckled josh, "we know of another kind of call of the wild that's going to be heard in the land pretty soon, when farmer sile perkins faces tony. he will demand double pay for the chickens tony and his crowd stole, on penalty of his being arrested if he doesn't whack up. oh i can just see tony begin to crawl then; and i wonder how he'll get the money." carl was saying little or nothing, and tom knew why. here they had been on the hike several days, and as yet there had arisen not a single chance for him to get in touch with dock phillips. tom understood that another spell of dark foreboding was beginning to enfold his chum. at the first opportunity he could find, tom joined carl. the latter had thrown himself down on the bank some distance away from the camp, where he could be in the shade, and yet look out on the sunlit water, which just then had a most attractive aspect. "you're worrying again because nothing has happened as we hoped would be the case, eh, carl?" was what the patrol leader said as he dropped down close to the moody scout. carl sighed heavily. "perhaps it's foolish of me, tom," he said, with a curious little break in his voice, which he tried hard to master; "but once in so often it seems as if something gripped me, and made me shiver. it's when i get to thinking what little real progress i am making that this chilly spell comes along." "yes, i can understand that," the other told him. "i did hope we might run on dock while we were up here, and either force or coax him to tell what he did with the stolen paper. he's away from the influence of mr. culpepper, you know, and if we had to come down to offering him a price to get the paper he might accept." "oh! much as i hate to have to compromise such a thing," said carl, desperately; "i believe i'd do it. anything to get that paper, for the more i think of it the stronger i believe it means everything to my mother." "well, we haven't quite got to the end of our tether yet," the patrol leader assured him. "i can't explain it, but somehow there's a feeling inside of me that tells me to keep on hoping. in some sort of fashion luck is going to turn your way. just keep up your grit, and hang on. take a lesson from the persistence of those dogs in following the deer." "yes, i suppose i ought to. i've read how wolves will keep chasing after a deer day and night, steady as dock-work, until in the end they tire it out and get their dinner." just then they heard a shout, or what was closer to a shriek. it came from beyond the camp, and was immediately followed by cries of alarm from the other scouts. "what's happened?" asked tom, as with carl he hurried to the spot to see a group approaching bearing some burden in their midst. "walt douglass fell out of a tree," replied billy button, looking very pale; "and mr. witherspoon says he's afraid it means a fractured leg, if nothing worse!" chapter xx first aid to the injured dismay seized upon most of the scouts upon realizing what a disaster had fallen upon them. tom however was not the one to forget that he had made a special study of "first aid to the injured," as had also rob shaefer. "carry him over here, where we'll make a soft bed of the blankets, and then we've got to see how badly he's hurt!" was what tom called out, hurrying on ahead to arrange things. his example seemed contagious. boys are apt to follow a leader very much as sheep will a bell-wether. everybody wanted to assist; and the feeling of panic gave way to one of confidence. scouts should be equal to any sudden emergency; and in that way prove the value of their education along the lines of usefulness. walter was groaning dismally, although trying his best to bear the pain. he looked as white as a sheet in the face. tom's first act was to force himself to appear cheerful; he knew that if all of them stared and shuddered it would have a bad effect on the injured lad. when they had made an examination tom and rob agreed that one of the bones only had been broken. "it's a painful thing, but not nearly so bad as a compound fracture would be," tom announced. "i think we can set it all right, temporarily, and then bind the leg up. in the meantime, mr. witherspoon, please make up your mind what we'd better do about getting walter home in a hurry, where the doctor can take charge of him." "i hope you won't think of giving up your hike just on account of me, fellows," said the poor walter, weakly, showing a magnanimous spirit in adversity that made his chums feel all the more admiration for him. "leave that to me," mr. witherspoon announced; "i remember seeing an old car in the yard of that house we passed some three miles back. if you boys can make some sort of stretcher for carrying walter i'll see that he gets home to-day, if i have to accompany him, and then come back again to you." this cheered the stricken lad as nothing else could have done. home just then had a most alluring look to walter. the woods may seem all very delightful when a boy is perfectly well, but let sickness or an accident put him on his back, and there is nothing like one's own home. after making some preparations, tom and rob announced that they were ready. "it's going to hurt you some, walter," said the patrol leader, regretfully; "but it's got to be done, you know. those two ends of the bone must be brought together, and after that we intend to bandage your leg the very best we know how." walter shut his teeth hard together, and seemed to prepare for the worst. "go ahead, boys," he said, grimly; "i'll have to grin and bear it, i guess. and i deserve all i'm getting for being so silly as to slip when i was climbing that tree to see what was in the hole in the trunk." he managed to stand it very bravely indeed, though the agony must have been intense. the other scouts heaved a sigh when they saw the amateur surgeons start to binding up the injured limb. "that's all through with, walter," said tom, cheerily, "and you stood it like a soldier, we'll all declare. just as soon as that litter is done you're going to be carried back to that house, if it takes every one of us to do the job." josh and some of the others had been busily engaged trying to construct a suitable litter. fortunately they had learned how this should be done, for it is one of the duties of every boy scout to know this. with the ax they cut a couple of stout poles about eight feet in length. these were to constitute the sides, and would form the handles, each one to be in charge of a scout. a blanket was arranged across these in such a manner that there would not be the slightest danger of its slipping, after the two poles had been held a certain distance apart with a couple of cross-pieces. when finally the litter was completed it was pronounced first-class by every one. "i'm proud of the way you boys grapple with an emergency," said mr. witherspoon, enthusiastically. "you're all a credit to the organization to which you belong. i mean that your light shall not be kept under a bushel, for this is an example worthy of being spread abroad, and copied by other scouts." the next thing was to lift walter to the litter, which was done without giving the poor fellow much pain. he seemed so grateful for every little thing they did for him, and looked so pitiful lying there that tender-hearted billy button was observed to hurriedly rush away, pretending that he wanted to wash his hands down at the water, when they all knew the tears had been welling up in his eyes. "it's going to be no easy task getting him all the way back to that house," said mr. witherspoon, "especially over such rough ground as we've struck. four will be needed to work at a time, and they'll have to be relieved often, so perhaps we had better all go along save one scout, who can stay to look after the camp." "let billy stay," said josh; "he was complaining of a stone bruise on his heel, and would be better off here than taking that six mile tramp." so it was decided that billy button should remain in the camp. he did not look as if he enjoyed the prospect very much. "no wild animals around here to bother you, billy," josh assured him, when they were prepared to make the start. "you forget those dogs, i guess," billy told him; "they must be pretty mad at us for holding them up. what must i do if they take a notion to come back and threaten to eat me up?" "oh! the easiest thing for you to try," josh told him, "would be to shin up this tree here, and wait for us to rescue you. we've hung our grub up so nothing can get hold of it. but don't worry, billy; there isn't one chance in ten that the dogs'll come back this way." it was a strange procession that left the camp. stanley took a picture of the litter bearers so they would have something to remember the occurrence by; and walter had so far recovered from the shock and the acute pain as to be able to raise his head, so that he might appear in the scene as the object of all this excitement. billy saw them depart, and then turned his attention to other things. being left in full charge of the camp he had a sense of responsibility resting upon him, such as he had never experienced before. it would take them perhaps two full hours going that distance with the injured boy, because great care would be required in picking the easiest way. of course the return journey would be made in half that time. altogether three hours might elapse, even with the best of luck, before the main body of scouts could be expected back; and billy had been told that they would depend on him to get supper started. it was fine to see how very careful the litter bearers were as they pushed along the back trail. one would go ahead to lead the way, and so avoid any unusually rough places as much as possible. every boy looked well to his footing, since any sort of jolt, such as would accompany a stumble, was apt to cause walter unnecessary pain. their progress was necessarily somewhat slow. tom said that was one of the times when it paid to be sure rather than to try to make speed. and from the fact that not once did they cause poor walter to give a groan it could be seen that these careful litter-bearers fulfilled their duty fully as well as red cross or hospital attendants could have done. the two hours and more had passed before they came to the house at which mr. witherspoon had remembered seeing a car. it turned out that the man who lived there was doing so for his health. he wanted to be in a quiet place on account of shattered nerves. when he learned what had happened he told them he would gladly take the injured scout to his home, and that there was room also for mr. witherspoon, whom he would bring back with him again. the splendid manner in which the scouts had managed, both with regard to doing up the fractured limb, and in making that litter, excited the man's admiration; and he felt that he could not do too much for those self-reliant lads. "such work should be encouraged by every right-thinking man or woman," he told them; "and after you've all had a cup of hot coffee, which my wife is getting ready right now, we'll be off." of course all of them were feeling much more cheerful, now that they knew the hike would not have to be abandoned on account of this accident. some of the boys had begun to fear this would be the result. "when i get back here from town," mr. witherspoon told them, "it is apt to be late, and i'll be too tired to try that three miles over rough ground. so i've made arrangements to stay here over-night with our good friends. in the morning after breakfast i'll start off along the trail for the camp. of course it would be nice if several of you met me half way there." "we'll be only too glad to do that, sir," josh told him; for mr. witherspoon had by this time firmly entrenched himself in the affections of his boys, who believed him to be the best scout master any troop had ever boasted, barring none. after seeing the car start, and giving walter a rousing send-off that must have done his heart good, the rest of the boys concluded to turn their faces toward the camp. "three hours will seem an age to billy button," said horace, who was feeling quite proud of the fact that he had been chosen as one of the litter-bearers. "oh! he'll have plenty to do cleaning all those fish we caught this morning, and some other odd jobs i gave him," remarked josh, carelessly. "billy is inclined to be timid," felix observed, loftily; "and it's a good thing, for him to be left alone once in a while. nothing like making a scout feel he's just got to depend on himself for things." the three miles was soon covered by the returning eight scouts. "i can see smoke ahead!" announced josh presently. "yes, and there's the pond shining in the light of the sun," added felix. "isn't that our chum, billy, waving his hands to us?" asked george. "looks as if he wanted us to hurry up some. i wonder what's happened now?" "oh! he's only anxious for us to join him," said carl; "perhaps he made a mistake in the time we were to be back, and he's gone and cooked all the fish." it was soon seen, however, that the guardian of the camp had a good reason for his excitement. his face bore a troubled expression, it struck tom, when he drew near the camp. "anything gone wrong here billy?" he asked. "i should say there had, tom!" he burst out with. "why, would you believe it, some miserable tramps raided the camp, and got away with most of our stuff!" chapter xxi scout grit "tell us how it happened, billy!" said the patrol leader, when the clamor of excited voices partly died away, giving him a chance to make himself heard. "yes, what did they do to you, billy?" demanded josh, noticing that the other did not seem to be limping, or showing any other signs of having met with rough treatment at the hands of the camp raiders. "why, it was this way," billy hastened to explain. "you see i was down by the water cleaning all those fish at the time. guess i must have been pretty much a whole hour at the job. and i'd just about finished when i thought i heard somebody give a sneeze, which made me get up off my knees and look around." "and did you see the tramps in camp cleaning things out then?" asked felix. "well, no, not exactly," replied billy; "the most i thought i saw was something moving in the bushes on the other side of the camp; and yes, it was just like a laugh too that i caught." "what did you do?" asked josh. "i wondered if those wild dogs had come back," said the guardian of the camp, "and the first thing i thought to do was to put the pan of fish i'd cleaned up in the crotch of a tree. then i went to the camp, and oh! my stars i but it was in an _awful_ mess, with things flung around, and most of our eatables taken, as well as the frying-pan and coffee-pot!" "oh! that's sure the limit!" groaned josh. "we'll never be able to keep on our hike with nothing to eat or drink, and not a pan to cook stuff in, even if we bought it from the farmers. it spells the end, fellows!" "yes," echoed george, always seeing the worst side of things, "we'll have to go back to town like dogs with their tails between their legs, and have all the other fellows make fun of us." "hold on there, fellows, don't show the white feather so easily," said tom, who was looking very determined. "do you mean there's any chance for us to keep going, after our things have been taken in this way?" demanded george. "well, we can talk that over to-night, and then see what mr. witherspoon has to say about it when he joins us in the morning," tom told him. "as for me, i'd be willing to go on half rations rather than own up beat. how do we know but that this raid on our stuff was made just to force us to give up our hike?" "why, how could that be?" asked billy button, wonderingly. "and why would hoboes want that to happen?" added george. "when billy says they were tramps he's only jumping to conclusions," tom explained, "he doesn't know a thing about it, because he owns up he failed to get even a single look at the thieves. i've got my own opinion about this thing." "meaning you believe you know who the fellows were?" questioned carl. "stop and think--who would like nothing better than to put us in a hole? don't we happen to know that tony pollock and his crowd are around here on big bear mountain somewhere? didn't they rob that hen roost of mr. perkins?" "tom, i really believe you're right!" exclaimed josh, beginning to look at the matter from the standpoint taken by the patrol leader. "we can soon settle that part of it!" declared rob shaeffer. "by hunting for their tracks, and finding out how many thieves there were," tom went on to say. "come on billy, and show me just where you saw the bushes moving when that laugh struck you." he called upon the others to keep back so that they might not spoil any tracks to be found at that particular spot. a very little search showed the boys what they so eagerly sought. "here are tracks enough, and all heading away from the camp," said the patrol leader presently, "let's see how we can classify them, for every footprint will be different from the others." "here's one that is square across the toe," announced josh, instantly. "and say, seems to me i remember asa green always wears shoes like that. now wedge mcguffey has got broad shoulders and spindle legs, and he wears a pointed shoe like the one that made these tracks." "here's another that's got a patch across the toe," said felix. "couldn't mistake that shoe, no matter where you saw it. a fellow could be hung on such circumstantial evidence as that." "and here's a fourth that's different from any of the rest," continued tom, as he pointed downward, "so it looks as if there were just four in the bunch, which you may remember corresponds with the number in tony pollock's crowd, now that dock phillips has thrown his lot in with them." some of the scouts expressed their indignation loudly as they investigated the results of the daring raid. it would not have been pleasant for tony and his cronies had they been brought face to face with the angry scouts about that time. tom chesney soon had reason to admit that he had met with a personal loss that bothered him exceedingly. "they've even taken my little diary in which i've been keeping an accurate account of our entire trip," he announced; "though what good that could do them i'm at a loss to understand." "oh! they just believed it would make you feel bad," explained carl; "and that would tickle tony, he's such a mean sort of fellow. perhaps he expects to read it out to the others while they sit by their fire, and then throw it away. i hope you can write it all over again, tom." "too bad!" declared josh, "when you went to such trouble to jot everything down just as it happened, thinking you might take that prize offered for the best true account of a hike by scouts." "i'll make sure to write this latest adventure out while it's fresh in my mind," remarked tom, bent on making the best of a bad bargain. "well," observed felix, "all i hope is that we decide not to give up the ship for such a little thing as being without provisions. it'll make us hustle some to lay in a supply; but, after all, the experience is going to be a great thing for us." "and if it comes to a vote," added horace, showing unexpected stamina in this emergency; "count on my voice being raised against giving up. why, i'm just getting interested in this game, and i find it pretty exciting." "just what i say!" echoed josh. "and i!" came from every one of the others, without even the exception of poor billy, who seemed to feel that he might be mostly to blame because the raid on the camp had been conducted while he was in charge. tom smiled on hearing so unanimous an expression of opinion. he knew that even such an apparent catastrophe as had befallen them was not going to cause these gallant fellows to "take water." "how long ago was it that the raid took place, billy?" asked josh, as though a sudden idea had struck him. "oh! i should say about an hour or more," replied the other, after thinking it over. "i suppose they watched the camp for a while to make sure i was the only one around. then when they saw me so busy down there by the pond they just started to root. they may have been poking around half an hour, for all i know; i was keeping my eyes on my work and thinking of poor walter." "tom, would it pay us to follow them right now?" demanded josh, while his eyes sparkled with the spirit of retaliation, as though he could picture them pouncing on the spoilers of the camp, and making them pay dearly for their frolic. the patrol leader, however, shook his head in the negative, much to the disappointment of the impetuous josh. "in the first place they were apt to hurry off," said tom. "then they might even try to blind their trail, though i don't believe any of them know much of the indian way of doing that. but the sun will soon set, and it grows dark early along the northeast side of big bear mountain you know." "yes," added george, always ready with an objection, "and some of us feel a little tired after all we've gone through with to-day." "we'd better leave that until mr. witherspoon joins us in the morning," concluded tom. "of course that wouldn't prevent a couple of scouts following the trail a bit while breakfast was cooking, and saving us that much trouble later on." "the next thing for us to see about is how under the sun will we cook all these delicious bass billy's got ready?" remarked felix. "oh! i forgot to tell you they missed one frying-pan," remarked billy, exultantly; "it chanced to be hanging from a nail i drove in a tree, and they couldn't have seen it. by making relays we can do our cooking in that." "besides, we're two shy of our original number," added horace. "what would we have done without any skillet at all, tom?" asked billy. "oh! there are ways of doing it by heating a flat stone, and cooking the fish on that," replied tom. "then some old hunters who won't bother to carry a frying-pan into the woods with them manage by toasting the meat or fish at the end of a long sliver of wood. given the fish and a hot fire, the fellow who couldn't invent some way of cooking would deserve to go hungry." "that's right," agreed josh. "and everybody notice that it's going to take more than a little thing like this to stall the scouts who are up to their business." indeed, there did seem to be an unusual spirit of animation among the boys that evening. every fellow was anxious to assist in getting supper ready, so that after all it began to look at one time like a case of "too many cooks spoiling the broth." when the first batch of fish had been browned they were kept hot on a clean stone close to the fire while the other lot was cooked. as their supply of coffee had gone together with numerous other things, the boys had to drink cold water for supper. loud were the lamentations over this. "the smell of coffee, bacon, or fried onions is what always makes it seem like camping out," declared josh, sadly; "and now we haven't got a single one of those lovely things left. our breakfast is going to be a pretty limited one; and as for other meals to-morrow, where they are going to come from is a question i'd like somebody to settle." "listen," said tom. "i'm going to get you up at daylight, josh." "me? what for? do we have to start in fishing that early, or else go hungry?" "i want you to go along with me, that's all, josh." "along--where to, may i ask?" continued the other scout, wonderingly. "back to where we took walter," replied tom; "i think when that gentleman hears what's happened to us, after we tell mr. witherspoon, he might be willing to sell us some supplies, such as coffee and bacon, and even loan us an extra frying-pan, as well as some sort of tin to boil coffee in." so, after all, the boys who gathered around the camp fire that evening, after such an eventful day, did not seem to be cast down one-half as much as undoubtedly the four young rascals who had played this mean trick upon them expected would be the case. chapter xxii the cabin in the woods it was just about an hour after dawn, and the sun had hardly got started on his journey toward the zenith, when two boys in the khaki garb of scouts arrived at the house to which walter douglass had been carried on a litter. mr. witherspoon on coming out to get a breath of air before breakfast was announced was surprised and pleased to see tom and josh. "why, this is splendid of you, boys!" he remarked, as they came toward him. "of course you were anxious to know about your comrade. we got him safely home, and called the doctor, who said he would not have to set the limb again, since you scouts had done the job in first-class style. it's a feather in your cap, for he is sure to tell it everywhere. now, what makes you look so glum, josh?" that gave them a chance to explain. when the scout master heard of the latest outrage of which the tony pollock crowd had been guilty, he was much annoyed. "we thought," tom went on to say, "that perhaps by coming over here before you got started we might influence the gentleman to spare us a small amount of coffee, a strip of bacon, and some sort of tin to make the coffee in." "no harm trying," mr. witherspoon immediately remarked; "and it does you credit to have thought up such a scheme. i've found him an accommodating gentleman. if he has anything he can spare i'm sure we'll be welcome to it." when the matter was mentioned to mr. clark, he immediately offered to help them out as far as he could do so. "i can give you plenty of eggs," he said, "and enough coffee for several meals. it happens that i'm shy on bacon just now, and intended to run in to town to stock up either to-day or to-morrow, when i have my eggs to dispose of. what i can spare, you're entirely welcome to." nor would he allow them to pay a cent for what he handed over to them. "what i've heard about you boys from mr. witherspoon here has aroused my interest greatly," he told tom and josh as they were about to depart; "and i'd be glad to know more about such a splendid movement as this promises to be. you must keep me informed of your progress. i would appreciate an occasional letter. then, if it happens that your account of the outing is ever put in print, tom, remember me with a copy." "i certainly will, sir," the patrol leader promised, for he realized that the gentleman and his wife led a lonely life of it, removed from association as they were, with most of their fellows. they reached the camp in three-quarters of an hour after leaving the house, and received a noisy welcome from the rest of the boys, who gave their leaders the regular scout salute as they came into camp. then once again the affair was discussed, this time with mr. witherspoon to listen and give occasional comments. it ended in their original plan's being sustained. they would not give up, and would try to carry out the plan as arranged before the hike was started. tom had an idea that they must be near the cabin of larry henderson, the naturalist whom he had met in lenox, at the time of the snowball battle with the pollock crowd. "he gave me directions how to find his cabin," tom explained to his companions when they were discussing this matter, "and i believe we must be somewhere near there right now. i asked mr. clark, and what he could tell me only confirmed my idea." "but tom, do you think we could get some supplies from him?" asked josh. "there's a reasonable chance of that," he was told. "i understood him to say he always kept a supply of all sorts of food on hand. it was to lay in a lot that took him down to lenox that time, you know." "then goodness knows i hope we can run on his shack to-day," said felix fervently. "we want most of all coffee, potatoes, onions, bacon, ham, and, well anything that can stop the gap when ten campers are half starved." "shall we get started right away, tom?" asked george, who looked distressed, as though he had not been wholly satisfied with the amount of his breakfast. "there's nothing to delay us, since we have no tents to come down," tom told him. "every fellow fold up a blanket, and make his pack ready." "it's going to be marching in light order with us nowadays," sighed felix, "with all our good stuff stolen. that's the only compensation i can see about it." "tom, you've studied your chart good and hard, let's hope," commented josh; "so we won't run any chance of going past the place without knowing it?" "he gave me certain land marks that i couldn't very well miss seeing," explained the patrol leader. "according to my way of thinking," felix was saying, "we must be half around the foot of big bear mountain by this time." "you've got the right idea of it," admitted the one who carried the chart; "and mr. henderson's cabin isn't far away from here. that crag up on the side of the mountain was one of the things he told me about. when we can get it in a direct line with that peak up there we will be within shouting distance of his place." tom continued to keep on his guard as they pressed onward. every one was alive to the necessity of finding the cabin of the old naturalist as soon as possible. farms were so rare up here that they found they could not count on getting their supplies from such places; and the possibility of going hungry was not a pleasant prospect. after all it was an hour after noon when tom announced the fact that the several land marks which had been given to him were in conjunction. "the cabin must be around here somewheres," he said, positively. hardly had he spoken when josh was noticed to be sniffing the air in a suspicious fashion. "what is it, josh?" asked the scout master. "i smell smoke, that's all," was the answer. others could do the same, now that their attention was called to the fact. "with the breeze coming from over that way, it ought to be plain enough we must look for the cabin there," remarked tom. the further they advanced the plainer became the evidence that there was a fire of some sort ahead of them. presently they got a whiff of cooking, at which some of the hungry scouts began to sniff the air like war horses when the odor of burnt powder comes down the breeze from the battlefield. "there it is!" exclaimed one of the watchful boys, suddenly. yes, there stood a commodious cabin right in the midst of the thick woods. it was a charming site for the home of one who loved nature as much as the old naturalist did. when a vociferous shout rang forth a form was seen to come quickly to the open doorway. it was the same genial larry henderson whom some of the scouts had once rescued from the unkind assault of the bully of lenox and his crowd, as they pelted the lame man with hard ice balls. he welcomed them to his little home with a heartiness that could not be doubted, and soon a royal dinner was being prepared for the whole party. while this was being dispatched later on, the owner of the woods cabin listened to the story of the great hike over big bear mountain, as told by the boys. everything seemed to interest him very much indeed, and when last of all they told him how some unscrupulous boys had stolen most of their supplies, meaning to break up the hike, mr. henderson looked pleased. "don't let a little thing like that deter you, boys, from carrying out your original proposition," he remarked. "i can spare you all you want in the way of supplies. yes and even to a coffee-pot and an extra frying-pan. an enterprise as splendidly started as this has been must not be allowed to languish, or be utterly wrecked through the mean tricks of such scamps as those boys." he was pleased when they gave him a round of hearty cheers, such as could only spring from a group of lively, wide-awake american boys. afterwards he showed tom and some of the others many things that interested them more than words could tell. indeed, so fascinating were the various things he took the trouble to explain to them, that the scouts only wished they could stay at the cabin in the woods for a number of days, enjoying his society. it was decided that they must remain there at least until another morning, which would give them a night with the naturalist and hunter, a prospect that afforded satisfaction all around. tom soon saw that mr. henderson had something on his mind which he wished to confide to him; consequently he was not much surprised when he saw him beckon to the leader of the black bear patrol to join him. "tell mr. witherspoon to come, too, and also that bright chap you call rob," remarked the recluse. "it is a little matter that may interest you and i think it best to lay the story before you, and then let you decide for yourselves what you want to do. still, from what i've seen up to this time of your character, i can give a pretty shrewd guess what your answer will be." of course this sort of talk aroused a good deal of curiosity in both tom chesner and rob shaefer, and they impatiently awaited the coming of the scout master. "and now i'll explain," mr. henderson told them, when he found three eager pairs of eyes fastened on him. "i chanced to be about half a mile away from home an hour before noon to-day when i heard angry voices, and discovered that several persons were about to pass by, following a trail that leads straight into the worst bog around the foot of big bear mountain." "i warrant you that it must have been the four young rascals who robbed our camp, that you saw," ventured mr. witherspoon. "i know now that it was as you say," continued the other. "at the time i might have called out and warned them of the peril that lay in wait for them if they should continue along that misleading trail, but when i looked at their faces, and heard a little of the vile language they used, i determined that it would be a very unwise thing for me to let them know i lived so near." "and you allowed them to go on past, you mean, sir?" questioned mr. witherspoon. "yes, i regret to confess it now," came the reply, "but at the time it seemed to be simply ordinary caution on my part. besides, how was i to know they would pay the slightest heed to anything i might say? i did not like their looks. but since then i've had grave doubts about the wisdom of my course, and was more than half inclined to start out, lame though i am, to see whether they did get off the only safe trail, and lose themselves in the bog." "is it then so dangerous?" asked mr. witherspoon; while tom was saying to himself that perhaps the chance so ardently desired by poor carl might be coming at last. "there are places where it might be death itself to any one who got off the trail, and became bewildered. the mud is deceptive, and once one gets fast in it an hour or two is apt to see him swallowed up; nor will his fate ever be known, for the bottomless mire of the bog never discloses its secrets." tom drew a long breath. "if you will show us the way there, sir," he told the naturalist, "we will certainly accompany you." chapter xxiii into the big bog "is it worth our while to bother with that crowd, tom?" asked josh, with a look approaching disgust on his face. one lad waited to hear what reply the patrol leader would make with more or less eagerness, as his face indicated. needless to say this was carl oskamp, who had so much at stake in the matter. "there's just this about it, josh," said tom, gravely, "suppose after we arrived safely home from this splendid hike, the first thing we heard was that one or two of that crowd had been lost in the great bog up here, and it was feared they must have found a grave in the mud flats. how would we feel about it, knowing that we had had the chance given to us to stretch out a helping hand them, and had failed?" josh turned red in the face. then he made a sudden gesture which meant he was ready to throw up his hands. "huh! guess you know best," he replied, in a husky voice; "i didn't think of it that way. i'd sure hate to have such a thing on my mind nights. let's start right away then." that was the way with josh; when he had anything unpleasant to do he was always eager to get it accomplished. for that matter, however, there were others among the scouts who wished to be astir, for the words of the patrol leader had thrilled them. "what if they have gotten lost in that awful mud bog, and right now are stuck fast there, whooping for help?" suggested felix. billy button and horace looked white with the very thought. as usual george pretended to make light of the whole matter, though some of them fancied much of his disbelief was assumed, for george had a reputation to maintain. "oh! no danger of those smart alecks being caught so easy," he told them; "they could slip through any sort of bog without getting stuck. like as not we'll only have our trouble for our pains." "you can stay here at the cabin if you like, george," tom told him. that, however, was far from george's mind; if the others meant "to make fools of themselves he guessed he could stand it too"; and when they started forth george had his place in the very van. josh often said george's "bark was worse than his bite." "fortunately," said the old naturalist, "the great bog isn't more than a mile away from here, and as i've spent many a happy hour there observing the home life of the little creatures that live in its depths the ground is familiar to me." "but you still limp, i notice, sir," remarked tom; "are you sure you can make it to-day? hadn't we better try it alone?" "i wouldn't think of letting you," replied the other, hastily. "i shall get along fairly well, never fear. this limp has become more a habit with me than anything else, i must admit. but if you are ready let us start off." accordingly the entire party began to head in the direction taken by those four boys from lenox. rob and josh were keeping a close watch, and from time to time announced that those they were following had actually come along that same trail, for they could see their footprints. "you know we took note of the different prints made by their shoes," rob told some of the other boys when they expressed surprise that this should be possible, "and it's easy enough to tell them every once in a while." "they are really following my usual trail, which i always take when going to or returning from a trip," explained the hermit-naturalist, looking pleased at this manifestation of scout sagacity on the part of the trackers. tom was keeping alongside his chum carl, instead of being with those who led the procession. he had a reason for this, too; since he had seen that the other was again showing signs of nervousness. "tom," said carl in a low voice as they walked steadily onward, "do you think i may have a chance to see dock face to face, so i can ask him again to tell me what he ever did with that paper he took?" "while of course i can't say positively," was tom's steady answer, "i seem to feel that something's going to happen that will make you happier than you've been this many a long day, carl." "oh! i hope you're on the right track!" exclaimed carl, drawing a long breath, as he clutched the arm of his faithful chum. "it would mean everything to me if only i could go home knowing i was to get that paper. just think what a fine present it would be to my mother, worried half to death as she is right now over the future." "well, keep hoping for the best, and it's all going to come out well. but what's that the boys are saying?" "i think they must have sighted the beginning of the great bog," replied carl. "do you suppose mr. henderson has brought that stout rope along with the idea that it may be needed to pull any one out of the mud?" "nothing else," said tom. "he knows all about this place, and from what he's already told us i reckon it must be a terrible hole." "especially in that one spot where he says the path is hidden under the ooze, and that if once you lose it you're apt to get in deeper and deeper, until there's danger of being sucked down over your head." "it's a terrible thing to think of," declared tom; "worse even than being caught in a quicksand in a creek, as i once found myself." "how did you get out?" asked carl. "i never heard you say anything about it before, tom?" "oh! in my case it didn't amount to much," was the answer, "because i realized my danger by the time the sand was half way to my knees. i suppose if i'd tried to draw one foot out the other would have only gone down deeper, for that's the way they keep sinking, you know." "but tell me how you escaped?" insisted carl. "i happened to know something about quicksands," responded the other, modestly, "and as soon as i saw what a fix i was in i threw myself flat, so as to present as wide a surface as i could, and crawled and rolled until i got ashore. of course i was soaked, but that meant very little compared with the prospect of being smothered there in that shallow creek." "but the chances are tony and those other fellows know nothing at all about the best ways to escape from a sucking bog," ventured carl. "yes, and i can see that mr. henderson is really worried about it. he is straining his ears all the while, and i think he must be listening in hope of hearing calls for help." "but none of us have heard anything like that!" said the other. "no, not a shout that i could mention," tom admitted. "there are those noisy crows keeping up a chatter in the tree-tops where they are holding a caucus, and some scolding bluejays over here, but nothing that sounds like a human cry." "it looks bad, and makes me feel shivery," continued carl. "oh! we mustn't let ourselves think that all of them could have been caught," the patrol leader hastened to say, meaning to cheer his chum up. "they may have been smarter than mr. henderson thinks, and managed to get through the bog without getting stuck." perhaps carl was comforted by these words on the part of his chum; but nevertheless the anxious look did not leave his face. they had by this time fully entered the bog. it was of a peculiar formation, and not at all of a nature to cause alarm in the beginning. indeed it seemed as though any person with common sense could go through on those crooked trails that ran this way and that. the old naturalist had taken the lead at this point, and they could see that he kept watching the trail in front of him. from time to time he would speak, and the one who came just behind passed the word along, so in turn every scout knew that positive marks betrayed the fact of tony's crowd having really come that way. by slow degrees the nature of the bog changed. one might not notice that his surroundings had become less promising, and that the surface of the ooze, green though it was, would prove a delusion and a snare if stepped on, allowing the foot to sink many inches in the sticky mass. in numerous places they could see where the boys ahead of them had missed the trail, though always managing to regain the more solid ground. "it's getting a whole lot spooky in here, let me tell you!" admitted felix, after they had been progressing for some time. "but it's entirely different from a real swamp, you see," remarked josh; "i've been in a big one and i know." "how about that, josh; wouldn't you call a bog a swamp, too?" asked george. "not much i wouldn't," was the reply. "a swamp is always where there are dense trees, hanging vines and water. it's a terribly gloomy place even in the middle of the day, and you're apt to run across snakes, and all sorts of things like that." "well, we haven't seen a single snake so far," admitted horace. "i'm glad, too, because i never did like the things. this isn't so very gloomy, when you come to look around you, but i'd call it just desolate, and let it go at that." "black mud everywhere, though it's nearly always covered with a deceptive green scum," remarked josh, "with here and there puddles of water where the frogs live and squawk the live-long day." "i wonder how deep that mud is anyhow?" speculated george. "suppose you get a pole and try while we're resting here," suggested josh, with a wink at the scout next to him. george thereupon looked around, and seeing a pole which mr. henderson may have placed there at some previous time he started to push it into the bog. "what d'ye think of that, fellows?" he exclaimed, in dismay when he had rammed the seven foot pole down until three fourths of its length had vanished in the unfathomable depths of soft muck. "why, seems as if there wasn't any bottom at all to the thing," said felix. "of course there is a bottom," remarked the naturalist, who had been watching the boys curiously; "but in some places i've been unable to reach it with the longest pole i could manage." "have we passed that dangerous place you were telling us about, sir?" asked mr. witherspoon. "no, it is still some little distance ahead," came the reply. "if it's much worse than right here i wouldn't give five cents for their chances," declared george. "hark!" exclaimed tom just then. "what did you hear?" cried carl. "it sounded like voices to me, though some distance off, and coming from further along the trail," the patrol leader asserted. "they may be stuck in the mire and trying every way they can to get out," observed the naturalist. "let us give them a shout, boys. now, all together!" as they all joined in, the volume of sound must have been heard a mile away. hardly had the echoes died out than from beyond came loud calls, and plainly they heard the words "help, help! oh! come quick, somebody! help!" chapter xxiv returning good for evil when that wailing cry reached their ears it thrilled the scouts through and through, for now they knew that the worst must have happened to the wretched tony pollock and his three cronies, adrift in the treacherous muck bog. "forward, but be very careful to keep in my tracks all the time!" called out the naturalist as he started off. they wound around this way and that. there were times when rob, who came directly on the heels of the pilot, could not see the slightest trace of a trail; but he realized that from long association and investigation mr. henderson knew exactly where to set his feet, and thus avoid unpleasant consequences. they now and then sent out reassuring calls, for those unseen parties ahead continued to make fervent appeals, as though a terrible fear assailed them that the rescuers might go astray and miss them. by degrees the shouts sounded closer, though becoming exceedingly hoarse. presently felix called out that he believed he had glimpsed the unfortunate boys. "oh! they're all in the mud, and up to their waists at that!" he cried. "no, you're wrong there, felix," said josh. "three of them seem to be stuck fast, but there's one up in that tree nearly over them. he must have managed to pull himself up there, somehow or other." "he's got a branch, and is trying to help one of his mates," asserted rob. "but he doesn't seem to be making much headway." "they're in a peck of trouble, believe me!" admitted george, for once neglecting to sneer at the prospect of a fatality. carl was trying to make out who the three in the bog were. "can you see if _he's_ in there, tom?" he asked, eagerly. "yes, it's wedge mcguffey up in the tree, and the others must be tony, asa and dock," the patrol leader assured him; nor did he blame poor carl for sighing as though in relief, for he could easily guess what it meant to him, this golden opportunity to be of help to the stubborn boy who could lift the load from his heart, if only he chose. when they came closer to the struggling captives in the lake of mud they heard them actually sobbing for joy. hope must have been almost gone when first they heard that chorus of cheering shouts. and when the scouts saw what a desperate condition the three prisoners were in they could not blame them for showing such emotion in the excess of their joy. soon the newcomers were as close as they could come to the three who were stuck there in the mire. never would they forget their deplorable appearance. they had evidently floundered about until they were fairly plastered over with the mud, and looked like imps. "can't you get us out of here, fellers?" called tony pollock, in a voice that seemed almost cracked, such was his excitement, and his fears that these scouts, whom he had done his best to injure, might think to pay him back in his own coin and abandon him to his fate. "yes, we'll manage it some way or other," said the hermit-naturalist. "keep as still as you can, because every movement only sends you down deeper." then he turned to tom, for he knew the patrol leader was the one to take charge of the rescue party. "here's the rope, tom," he told him. "pick out several of the stoutest of your comrades, and make use of the tree as a lever. it's all very simple, you can see, thought it may hurt them more or less when you pull." tom understood what was expected of him. "come along with me, carl, rob and josh," he said. "the rest of you stand by and be ready to pull if we need any more help. we'll pass the end of the rope back to you." "but how are we going to climb up in the tree?" asked rob; "without getting stuck in the mud ourselves?" "there's only one way," replied tom, as he seized hold of a branch that happened to be within reach, and commenced to climb it as though he were a sailor swarming up a rope. when he had effected a lodgment above they threw the rope to him, and after tom had made one end fast to the thick limb the other three had little difficulty in following him. then they clambered out to where wedge mcguffey was perched. his condition betrayed the fact that he too had been caught in the muck; but being closer to a friendly branch he must have made a tremendous effort and climbed into the tree. first of all tom made a running noose in the end of the rope. then he lowered this to tony who was almost below the limb of which they were astride. "listen, tony," said tom, clearly, "put the loop under your arms, with the knot at your chest. then grin and bear it, because we've got to drag hard to get you free from all that stuff you're in." "oh! never mind about me, tom; i'd stand anything if only i could get out of this terrible place. pull me in half if you have to; i'm game!" said the boy below. they found that it was really a little harder than they had bargained for, because of their insecure footing. accordingly, after several attempts that did not meet with much success, tom had the other end of the rope carried to the scouts who were on the ground. after that tony just had to come. he evidently suffered pain, but, as he had said, he was game, and in the end they hoisted him to the limb, where he clung watching the next rescue. it happened that asa was the second to be pulled out. meanwhile dock was in great distress of mind. all his nerve seemed to have gone, for he kept pleading with carl not to think of having revenge because of the way he had harmed him. "only get me out of this, carl," he kept saying, "and i've got something right here in my pocket i'm meaning to give back to you. i was getting shaky about it anyhow; but if you help me now you're a-goin' to have it, sure you are, carl!" it can easily be imagined that carl worked feverishly when it came time to get dock phillips out. he was deeper than either of the others had been, and it required some very rough usage before finally they loosened him from his miry bed. dock groaned terribly while the work was being carried on, but they did not stop for that, knowing it had to be. in the end he, too, was drawn up to the limb, a most sorry looking spectacle indeed, but his groans had now changed into exclamations of gratitude. it required much labor to get the four mud-daubed figures down to where the others were awaiting them. even tom and his helpers were pretty well plastered by that time, and their new uniforms looked anything but fine. josh grumbled a little, but as for tom and carl they felt that it was worth all it cost and a great deal more. carl would not wait any longer than he could help. perhaps he believed in "striking while the iron was hot." tom too was egging him on, for he felt that the sooner that precious paper was in the possession of his chum the better. "dock, i hope you mean to keep your word to me," carl said, as they took up the line of march over the ground that had been so lately covered. dock was seen to be fumbling as though reaching into an inner pocket; and while the suspense lasted of course carl held his very breath. then a hand reached back, and something in it was eagerly seized by the widow's son. one look told him that it was the paper his mother needed so much in order to balk the greedy designs of amasa culpepper. "how is everything now, carl?" asked a voice in his ear, and turning he found tom's smiling face close to his own. "oh! that terrible load seems to have fallen from my shoulders just as water does from the back of a duck!" carl exclaimed, joyously, and the patrol leader saw that he was very happy. "i'm so glad!" was all tom said, but the way he grasped his chum's hand counted for much more than mere words. when they finally reached the end of the treacherous great bog there was a halt called by the naturalist. "we must stop here and try to clean these boys off as best we can," he announced. this was no easy task, but by making use of slivers of wood from a fallen tree they finally managed to relieve tony and his crowd of most of the black mud, although they would be apt to carry patches of it on their garments for some time after it dried. "now," said the kindly old hermit-naturalist, "i'm going to invite all of you up to my cabin, and we'll have a feast to-night in celebration of this rescue from the great bog. you four lads have had a narrow escape, and i only hope you'll never forget what the scouts have done for you." even tony seemed affected, and certainly no one had ever before known him to show the first sign of contrition. he went straight up to tom and looked him in the eye. "we played your crowd a mighty low trick i want to say, tom chesney; and while we've et up most of the grub we took, here's something you might be glad to get back again," and with that he thrust into the hand of the patrol leader the little note-book which tom had mourned as lost to him forever. "i'm glad to have that again, tony," the other said, offering his hand to the contrite one; "because i mean to use my account of this hike later on in trying for a prize. it's lucky you didn't throw it away as you did the frying-pan and coffee-pot, which i see you failed to carry along with you." "we know where they're hid in the brush," tony hastened to declare; "and i c'n get 'em again inside of an hour. i'm a-goin' to do it too, 'cause i feel mean about that thing. i'm done with callin' the scouts names. fellers that'd reach out a helpin' hand to them that didn't deserve it must be the right sort. and laugh if you want to, tom chesney, but when we get back home i want ye to lend me a book that tells all a feller has to do when he thinks of gettin' up a scout troop!" tony was as good as his word. when he said a thing he stuck to it, which was his best quality. he tramped a long way back along the trail, and reappeared after sunset bearing the missing cooking utensils. "we're going to pay for the eatables we took later on, i promise ye, tom," he declared. they spent a great night and those four boys who had hated the scouts so long learned many wonderful things connected with the great movement as they sat by the fire, and listened to all that was said. in the morning they went their way, and appeared to be different youths from what they had been in the past. mr. witherspoon and the scouts spent another day and night with the hermit-naturalist. then on the next morning they started forth to complete their hike over big bear mountain. it chanced that no further adventures came their way, and one afternoon weary but well satisfied with the success of their trip, the troop re-entered lenox, with felix sounding his fish horn just as valiantly as though it were the most beautiful silver-plated bugle that money could buy. chapter xxv when carl came home--conclusion amasa culpepper had taken advantage of the absence of carl to drop around that afternoon to see the widow. he fully believed that by this time dock phillips had either destroyed or lost the paper he claimed to have found; or else amasa felt that he could secure possession of it at any time by paying the sum the boy demanded. when carl drew near his home he saw the well-known rig of the old lawyer and grocer at the gate. somehow, the sight gave carl an unpleasant feeling. then, as his hand unconsciously went up to the pocket where he had that precious paper, he felt a sensation of savage joy. they would get rid of this nuisance at last. mr. culpepper would have to produce the certificate for the oil shares that had become so valuable, now that the receipt he had given for it could be produced, and after that an era of prosperity would come to the oskamp's, with grim poverty banished forever. carl entered by the gate, and passed around the side of the house instead of using the front door as usual. the boy knew that the windows of the little sitting room must be open, and of course the afternoon caller would be in there. carl was anxious to hear what had caused the rich old man to don his best clothes and drop in to see his mother of an afternoon, though he strongly suspected the reason back of it. it did not strike the boy that he was playing the part of an eavesdropper, for in his mind just then the end justified the means. and he knew that amasa culpepper had to be fought with his own weapons. evidently he must have again asked mrs. oskamp to marry him, and as before met with a laughing refusal, for carl could hear him walking nervously up and down in the little sitting room. having exhausted his stock of arguments as to why she should think seriously of his proposal, mr. culpepper seemed to be getting angry. he had been courting the widow for a long time without making any impression on her heart. it was time to change his tactics. perhaps since entreaties had failed something in the way of half-veiled threats would become more successful. "you tell me that with the burning of the tenement building more than half of your little property has been lost," carl heard him saying as he crouched there under the open window. "yes, that is the sad truth, mr. culpepper," the widow admitted. "but with a family of children to bring up how are you going to live from now on, when before this happened you had barely enough? if you would seriously consider the proposition i make you, and become mrs. culpepper, your children would have a good home." "that is very generous of you, mr. culpepper," carl heard his mother say, while he fairly held his breath in suspense for fear she might agree to what the other asked; "but i cannot change my mind. i never expect to marry again." "but how can you get along, i want to know?" he demanded, angrily. "it takes money to live, and you will see the children you love suffer." "there is one resource still left," she told him, as though urged to put him to the test. "it lies in those shares of oil stock which you are holding for me. they have become very valuable, and when i dispose of them i hope to have enough and to spare for all future needs." there was a brief and awkward silence. "but what evidence is there," he finally asked icily, "that you ever placed any shares of stock in my hand, or even so, that they were not delivered to you again? of course you can show my name at the bottom of a receipt if that is the fact?" "is that absolutely necessary, mr. culpepper?" she asked, helplessly. "it is strictly business, madam," the visitor went on, in his cold, cutting tones that were like the rasping of a file. "i could not think of handing over anything of value that was in my possession without receiving in return a receipt." "but you would not be so cruel as to deprive my children of their bread simply because of a little technicality, sir? i will do anything the law demands to insure that you are not held liable whether the lost receipt is ever found again or not." "there is only one thing you can do," continued mr. culpepper, eagerly, "that will cause me to waive my rights, and you know what that is. those are my only terms of surrender." "that's just where you're a whole lot mistaken mr. culpepper!" cried carl, unable to hold in any longer, and thrusting his head and shoulders through the open window as he spoke. the widow gave a slight shriek, while mr. culpepper said something half under his breath that no doubt expressed his feelings. "what do you mean by saying that?" he asked, in a voice that was unsteady. "you made a statement that you'll have to take water on," carl told him with a broad smile on his face. "listen! my mother will be down at your office to-morrow morning with judge beatty and myself, and she'll demand that you deliver the paper that this receipt calls for!" with that he held up the precious little paper so that those in the sitting room could see it. mrs. oskamp gave a bubbling cry of joy, while amasa culpepper, seizing his hat and stick, hurried out of the door, entered his buggy and whipped his horse savagely, as though glad to vent his ill humor on some animate object. carl was not another moment in climbing through the open window and gathering his mother in his strong arms. the whole story was told that evening with the younger children gathered around. mrs. oskamp sat there and felt her mother heart glow with pride as she heard how carl had played his part in the exciting drama connected with the hike of the boy scouts. "it seems as though some power over which you had no control must have led you on to the glorious success that came in the end," she told the happy carl, after everything had been narrated. "with that paper in our hands we can have no further trouble in securing our property. but i shall feel that we owe something to dock phillips, and that it can only be repaid through kindness to his mother." on the following day they took judge beatty, who was an old friend of carl's father, into their confidence, and the certificate of stock was promptly though grudgingly delivered to them on demand. amasa culpepper knew that he had been fairly beaten in the game, and he annoyed mrs. oskamp no longer. the oil shares turned out to be worth a large sum of money, and it placed the oskamps beyond the reach of want. tom chesney wrote his account of their great trip over big bear mountain, and, sure enough it did take the prize when submitted in competition with numerous others to the magazine that had made the offer. tom remembered his promise and sent copies of the story to mr. clark, as well as to mr. henderson. the last heard from lenox the boy scouts were thriving famously. they expected to enjoy many an outing under the charge of the good-hearted scout master, mr. witherspoon, but some of the boys were of the opinion that there never could be just such a wonderful series of exciting adventures befall them as had accompanied the hike over big bear mountain. boy scouts in an airship; or, the warning from the sky by g. harvey ralphson chapter i spies in the boy scout camp gates, the united states secret service man, closed the door gently and remained standing just inside the room, his head bent forward in a listening attitude. ned nestor and jimmie mcgraw, boy scouts of the wolf patrol, new york city, who had been standing by a window, looking out on a crowded san francisco street, previous to the sudden appearance of the secret service man, turned toward the entrance with smiles on their faces. they evidently thought that gates was posing, as so many detectives have a silly habit of doing, and so gave little heed to the hand he lifted in warning. the boys knew little about gates at that time, and so may be pardoned for the uncomplimentary thoughts with which they noted his theatrical conduct. young nestor had been engaged by the united states government to undertake a difficult and dangerous mission to south america, and gates had been sent on from washington to post him as to the details of the case. the boys had waited at the san francisco hotel three days for the arrival of the secret service man, and waited impatiently, as sam leroy, who was to be the third member of the party, was anxious for the safety of his aeroplane, the nelson, in which the trip to "the roof of the world" was to be made. the nelson was lying, guarded night, and day, in a field just out of the city, on the pacific side, and leroy was impatiently keeping his eyes on the guards most of the time. there was a subconscious notion in the minds of all the boys that there were enemies about, and that the aeroplane would never be fully out of danger until she was well over the ocean on her way south. gates had arrived only that morning, and now the lads were eager to be off. a couple of hours before his appearance in the room that morning, the secret service agent had left the boys in the lobby below to arrange for the necessary papers and funds for the mission. before going out, however, he had been informed of the boys' suspicions, and had made light of the idea that the aeroplane was in danger from secret enemies, pointing to the fact that no one was supposed to know anything about the proposed journey save the boys and himself as conclusive evidence that the suspicion of constant surveillance was not well founded. now, on his return, his cautious movements indicated that he, too, was alarmed and on his guard. while ned was wondering what it was that had so changed gates' point of view, there came a quick, imperative knock on the door of the room, which was occupied by ned and jimmie as a sleeping apartment. instantly, almost before the sound of the knock died away, gates opened the door and stepped forward. the man who stood in the corridor, facing the doorway, was tall, slender, dark of complexion, like a spaniard or a mexican. his black hair was long, straight, thin; his black eyes were bright, treacherous, too close together, with a little vertical wrinkle between the brows. he was dressed in a neat brown business suit of expensive material. when the door was opened he stepped forward and glanced into the interior of the room, apparently with the purpose of entering. but when gates moved aside to give him passageway he drew back, the set smile on his face vanishing as he bowed low and swung his slender hands out in elaborate gesture. "pardon!" he said. "i have made a mistake in the room." he was about to move away when gates gritted out a question. "for whom were you looking?" he asked. "we may be able to direct you to your friend," he added, more courteously, his alert eyes taking in every detail of the man's face, figure and dress. "it is nothing!" was the quick reply. "i will make inquiries at the office--which, undoubtedly, i should have done before." in a moment he was gone, moving gracefully toward the elevator. gates watched his elegant, well-dressed figure with a smile of quiet satisfaction. when the visitor gained the elevator, he turned and bowed at the still open doorway, and the secret service man recognized the grin on his face as expressive of triumph rather than apology. "what did he want?" asked jimmie, as gates, closed the door. gates did not answer the question immediately. instead he asked one: "ever see that fellow before?" jimmie shook his head, but ned looked grave as he answered: "i have seen him about the hotel--frequently. he seems to have a suite off this corridor, or the one above it." at this moment the door was opened again and sam leroy bounced into the room, his eyes shining with enthusiasm, his muscles tense with the joy of youth and health. he drew back when he saw gates, whom he had not met before, and looked questioningly at ned. "this is lieutenant gates, for whom we have been waiting," ned said, "and this, lieutenant, is sam leroy, who is to take us to south america in his aeroplane." "i hope the machine is above reproach as to strength and speed," laughed gates, as the two shook hands cordially, "for there is likely to be doings down there." "the nelson is warranted for work and wind," said ned. "she crossed the continent in a rush and spied on us through british columbia and on down the columbia river, not long ago, and i can recommend her as a very desirable bird of the air." "she's all sound now," leroy said, "but there's no knowing how long she will be if we don't get her out of san francisco. there was a couple of men hanging around her last night, and one of them went away with a bullet in his leg. i'm glad you're here, lieutenant, for now we can get away--quick!" "did you get a good look at either of the two men you speak of?" asked ned, his mind going back to what seemed to him to be a secret conspiracy against the nelson. "one of them," leroy answered, "was tall, slender, dark; with long straight hair and eyes like a snake. i noticed, too, that he had a habit of moistening his lips with the end of his tongue, and that made me think of a snake thrusting out his tongue. i got a shot at the other fellow, but not at this one." gates and ned looked at each other with nods of mutual understanding. this was a pretty good description of the man who had just stood before the door of that room. then the lieutenant turned to jimmie. "you asked a moment ago," he said, "what the fellow wanted here. now i think i can tell you. he wanted to confirm his suspicions that the four of us axe working together. he has been sleuthing about the corridors all the morning, watching me; and his mission to this room was to make sure that my business in san francisco is with ned--that we are working together." "he's sure doing a lot of sherlock holmes stunts," jimmie declared. "and i reckon he's next to his job, for he appears to have inspected all the points of interest, from the field where the nelson is to the room where the plans are being made." "yes," leroy said, his manner showing apprehension as well as anger, "but how the old scratch did he get his knowledge, of what, we are about to do? i thought no one in the west knew except us four. and what's he trying to do, anyway? what difference does it make to him if we do go to south america in an aeroplane?" "i have a notion," gates replied, "that he objects to your going in an airship because you will make such swift time. let me tell you something more about this case. then you will be able to understand why efforts may be made to prevent your going to south america, in an airship or in any other way." "it's just the airship they've been after so far," leroy interrupted. "they haven't troubled us--and they'd better not!" "i imagine," said the lieutenant, gravely, "that their activities will broaden out as they get warmed up to their work. understand? what i mean is this: you boys are risking your lives in undertaking this mission. you will be followed and spied upon from the minute you leave san francisco, and the chances will be all against you when you reach your field of operations. even the government cannot protect you in your undertaking, for the government is not supposed to know anything about this case." "we are to do something by stealth, then, which the diplomats of the state department are too cautious to undertake?" asked ned. "that is it exactly," was the reply. "if the state department should take cognizance of the situation down there and make any sort of a demand, war would be certain to follow in case the demand was denied, which it would be. therefore, the state department does not wish to make a demand. still, the american who is in trouble must be protected. you are to go and get him out of his dungeon, or wherever he may be, and the department of state will wink at what you do and look innocent." "aw, why don't they send a warship to do the job?" demanded jimmie. "because," replied the lieutenant, "uncle sam has taken the republics of south america under his protection, and he does not care to spank them in the presence of all the nations of the earth! he wants to get this man lyman--horace m. lyman, to be exact--out of the clutches of a crooked gang in paraguay without wasting money and lives. hence the arrangement with you boys." "i have read something about the lyman case," ned observed, "but i have forgotten all the material points, i guess." "lyman," gates went on, "took up his residence in paraguay some years ago and opened negotiations with the government for a cattle concession. the lands known as the 'chaco' district, lying between the paraguay and pilcomayo rivers, are said to be the best for grazing purposes in all south america. years ago they were considered worthless swamps, but this is all changed now. "well, lyman entered into negotiations with the president of this alleged republic and got his concession. there is no knowing how much he paid for it, for every new president of paraguay--and they have new ones quite frequently down there--seems to do business on the theory that what he doesn't get while the getting is good he never will get at all. there have been four or five new official heads of this alleged republic within a couple of years. "the country is on the verge of revolution most of the time and as the army goes so goes the election. jara was made prisoner last july, and one rojes put in power. now, in order to keep in good standing with the army, the government is obliged to have generals who are loyal to whoever is in power. these generals must be paid for their services, of course. "it seems that lyman fell under the displeasure of one of these powerful military chaps, probably because he refused to give up all his profits in the cattle business. anyway, lyman disappeared from home, quite suddenly, and his manager was notified that settlement could be made with one senor lopez, an army chief, said to be a relative of a former president. so lopez was appealed to. "now lopez is a slippery chap. he denied knowing anything about lyman, but declared that unless the cattleman appeared shortly and took up his work on the cattle concession the grant would be taken from him. that is like south american justice. lock a man up and then deprive him of his rights because he can't appear and claim them!" "must be a fine healthy country!" jimmie interposed. "it is all of that," laughed the lieutenant. "then this manager, i think his name is coye, appealed to the united states consul and the consul to the president. nothing doing! lyman, they insisted, had not been molested by the authorities. but lyman's people in this country are kicking up an awful row, and something must be done. "there is no doubt that the cattleman, is locked up in some of the old military prisons of the country, yet the state department can't get him out. the president offers any assistance in his power, of course! lopez weeps when the matter is mentioned to him--weeps at the unfounded suspicions which are being cast upon him! so there you are! the only hope for lyman lies in some such method as has been planned. if you fail, the situation will be desperate, indeed." "why don't lyman buy the fellow off?" asked jimmie. "the purpose of lopez in pursuing the course referred to is undoubtedly to find an excuse for robbing lyman of the concession and selling it to another at a much greater price. so others besides the general and lyman are concerned in this mix-up." "you refer to a person, or corporation, waiting to buy the concession?" asked ned, the reason for the surveillance in san francisco coming to him like a flash. "that is it." "and these prospective concessionaires are looking to it that lyman gets no aid from this country?" "i had not looked at the matter in that way, had not thought of their venturing over here, but presume you are right." "look here," leroy asked, "are you figuring it out that the people who are trying to steal or cripple the nelson came here from paraguay for the express purpose of watching this lyman case and preventing his friends from assisting him?" "you state the case in a way which gives it a good deal of importance," gates replied, "but i believe you state it correctly. just how the men who hope to gain the concession if lyman loses it came to understand the attitude of our government is more than i can imagine, but it is quite clear to me that they do understand the situation--that they are thoroughly posted as to every move that has been made by the government and by the friends of the cattleman." "it is a good thing to know that we are likely to be chased to south america," ned said, "for we know exactly what to expect, and shall be on our guard." "chased to south america!" laughed leroy. "they'll have to go some if the keep up with the little old nelson! she can fly some--if you want to know!" chapter ii a fox joins the wolves nelson hung like a great gull over new orleans one hot morning in early august. the boys who occupied seats on the light aluminum form under the sixty-foot wings glimpsed the gulf of mexico in the distance, while directly their feet ran the crooked streets of the french quarter. the departure from san francisco had been for a delayed for a long time because of the non-arrival of important instructions from washington, and because of a slight injury to the aeroplane while out on what leroy called an "exercise run." lieutenant gates had remained with the boys until they started on their long flight to the mouth of the great mississippi river, and had then returned to washington. i had first been the intention to proceed due from san francisco, then wing toward the east where the coast of peru showed. this plan was opposed by the lieutenant, for the reason that an airship far out on the pacific ocean, directly in the steamship route, would be likely to attract attention sailing over the southwestern states and central america. daring aviators now venture in all directions and at all altitudes above the solid earth, but they are still cautious about proceeding far out over the merciless waters of the oceans which rim the continent of north america. so, yielding to the wishes of the lieutenant, the nelson had been directed by her navigators across california, arizona, new mexico, texas and louisiana until the great city of the south lay spread out before them. the distance covered by the airship in this flight was not far from thirty-five hundred miles, and the nelson, leaving the coast city on monday morning, august , had covered the run so as to reach new orleans late wednesday afternoon. the boys might, it is true, have speeded up and made the distance in thirty-six hours, or less but they realized the necessity of taking good care of themselves, and so they had rested in quiet places both monday and tuesday night, landing about midnight and sleeping until long after daylight. having provisions with them, they had not found it necessary to land except when gasoline was obtained at santa fe. the machine had attracted little attention on the route, for it was painted a dull gray, and its aluminum motors gave forth little sound. it was two merits of the machine, which had been invented by young leroy, that it could navigate in a clear sky a mile up without being observed from below, and could also run to within a short distance of the earth without making herself conspicuous by the popping of her motors. the united states authorities are now adapting these two qualities to the government airships to be used in the military service. the boys remained in new orleans until thursday morning, august , and then, with full provision baskets and gasoline tanks, they set out across the gulf of mexico. they soon sighted yucatan, which is really a province of mexico, darted over british honduras, and swung over the forests of guatemala, the one country in central america which is never bothered with revolutions. when an ambitious person wants to wrest the reins of government from the officials in charge, they take him out and stand him up against a stone wall, with a firing squad in front. this manner of preventing revolutions is believed to be conducive to peace and also to the sanctity of human lives. jimmie, who had been reading up on south and central america while waiting in san francisco, explained many points of interest as the nelson sped on her way. they took on more gasoline at panama, and ned and jimmie were very glad to renew their acquaintance with that now model city. those who have read the former books of this series will remember that the boy scouts at one time had a commission to stand guard over the great gatun dam. they did not remain long in panama, however, as they were anxious to get to the scene of their future operations. they were all anticipating great fun in exploring "the roof of the world," which extends from colombia to argentina, north and south, through equator, peru, and bolivia, more than , miles, or as far as from new york city to denver. in many directions from this "roof" may be seen villages, cattle, sheep, llamas, and evidences of mining. the boys made good progress down the coast of tropical south america. they had heard much of peru, and were surprised to see only a great strip of sand, lying like a desert, between the pacific and the mountains. now and then a little stream, fed by the melting snows in the andes, comes trailing out toward the sea, but it is usually smaller at its mouth than at its source for the reason that the precious water is utilized for irrigation purposes. wherever there is water crops grow luxuriantly. thus far they had not been molested in any way. indeed, considering the speed with which they had traveled, it would have been difficult for any one to have meddled with their plans. they were therefore in excellent spirits when they landed at lima, which is the one large city of the country. lima, however, is not built on the coast, callao being the seaport of the metropolis. lima is a modern city in every way, with, handsome streets, electric lights, and all that any modern city has in the way of amusements. the nelson was anchored on the morning of august , in a sequestered spot, and the boys, after answering many foolish questions, laid plans to look over the wonderful city. it was necessary to station a strong guard about the machine, for the natives--many of whom spoke the english language fairly well--were overly curious concerning the man-made bird. in answer to all questions as to their plans, the lads replied that they were seeking the headwaters of the amazon, and would soon pass over the andes and drift down into brazil. this was not far from the actual truth, as it really was the intention to return home by that route after their mission had been accomplished. "but the wind is always from the east," was often urged against this plan, as explained by jimmie, who lingered about the nelson while the others were at the hotel. when it was explained to the doubters that the nelson was capable of making a hundred miles an hour against a stiff breeze, the natives seemed to doubt the veracity of the boys. the peruvians knew little of airships, and when jimmie exhibited to them daily newspapers showing how germany was building a fleet of three hundred airships to use in case of war, they still looked incredulous. "look here, fellers," jimmie explained to them, later in the afternoon of the arrival, as a group of curious ones stood about the roped-in enclosure where the nelson lay, "i guess you don't know much about the navigation of the air. it used to be risky; now it is no more so than riding on a railroad train." "you say it well!" the words were spoken in good english, seemingly in a boy's voice, and jimmie peered through his audience in order to catch a glimpse of the speaker. presently, above the heads which surrounded him, the boy saw a hand and arm extended. the palm was out, the thumb and little finger flat and crossed, the three remaining fingers held straight out. the full salute of the boy scouts. "say, you!" the lad cried out, greatly pleased at finding a boy scout there. "where did you get that?" "scouted for it!" was the reply. "what does it read?" "be prepared!" "where from?" was the next question. "fox patrol, chicago." "you must be pretty foxy," jimmie laughed, "to get away off here." the member of the fox patrol now made his way through the crowd and extended a hand to jimmie. "you don't look as if it paid to be a fox," laughed the latter. the boy certainly did look like a tramp. he was a lad of about sixteen, well formed as to figure and attractive as to feature, with bright blue eyes, long, fair hair, and a complexion which would have been perfect only for the grime upon it. he blushed as jimmie looked him over, and involuntarily turned his eyes down to his ragged clothing and broken shoes. "forget that!" jimmie cried, in a moment. "i didn't mean anything by it. where you stopping?" the fact was that jimmie suspected from the appearance of the lad that he was hungry as well as ragged and dirty. he certainly looked hungry. the boy hesitated before replying, his hands deep in his trousers pockets, his eyes on the ground. then a whimsical smile came to his face and he looked jimmie squarely in the face. "no use of lyin' about it," he said. "i'm stoppin' down here at the blue sky hotel. it's a dandy place to stop at. they never present a board bill." jimmie sat back on the rope which was drawn about the nelson to keep meddlesome ones away from the machine and burst into a roar of laughter. the crowd looked on stupidly, glancing from boy to boy, and then at one another, as if wondering if these americans always went crazy when they met in a foreign land. "i know that blue sky hotel," jimmie said, presently, "though i've never heard it called by that name before. i had a room in one, in central park, new york, until a sparrow cop drove me out of it. i liked it because i didn't have to dress for dinner there," he added, whimsically. "the feed is rather slim," observed the other. "it's run on the european plan," grinned jimmie. "you get your sleepins, an' no one cares whether you get your eatin's or not. what's your name?" "dougherty--mike dougherty, clark street, south of van buren!" "i guess you must be french," jimmie grinned. "you've guessed it. now, what's your name, and what are you boys doin' here with this old sky-ship?" "i'll tell you all about it when we get back to the hotel," jimmie replied. "do you know any of the gazabos about here? i want some one to watch the ginks who are watchin' the mutts who are watchin' the aeroplane." dougherty laughed at this suggestion of a treble surveillance and pointed out a lanky looking individual who was studying the machine closely from the outer side of the roped-circle. "that's pedro," he said. "he's all right. about all i've had to eat since i came here he's given me. he's a peruvian indian, and in need of money. give him a dollar, and he'll guard your guards a month, and never leave the machine, night or day." "does he talk united states?" "oh, just a little." pedro talked quite a little united states, as jimmie called it, and a bargain was soon struck with him. then the two boys started away together. first they visited a clothing store, where jimmie looked at the best suits in stock, and measured dougherty cautiously with his eyes. a full outfit of under and outer clothing provided, they proceeded to the hotel, where jimmie ushered his new-found friend into a commodious bathroom. "remove some of your real estate," the boy said, "an' hop into these new clothes. they ain't very nobby, but the best i could get here." mike dougherty stood looking at jimmie for a moment as if he could not believe what he heard. it had been a long time since he had been clean and properly clothed. then there came a suspicious moisture to his keen eyes and he turned away. "oh, well," he said, with a tremble in his clear young voice, "mebbe i'll be able to pay you back some day. just now i'm--" "cut it out!" jimmie replied. "you hain't got anythin' on me. i've been there meself, an' the boy scout that helped me out told me to pass it along. that's what i'm doin' now, and there's nothin' more to be said. when you get washed and dressed, come on to no. , that's the second room from this tub, on the left of the corridor, an' i'll show you the rest of the bunch." jimmie went away to no. , where ned and sam leroy were waiting for him. somehow, it seemed to ned that jimmie kept him waiting about half the time when they were in a strange city. the little fellow had a way of wandering off alone and forgetting all about time in his delight at the strange things he saw. when he entered no. he found ned standing near the door. "were you out there before?" ned asked, pointing to the corridor, as jimmie stepped inside. "just got here," was the reply. "found a boy scout from the fox patrol, chicago, an' brought him along with me. he's washin' some of the peruvian scenery off his frame, now, an' will soon be along." then jimmie told of his discovery of mike dougherty, of his leaving a treble guard around the nelson, and of numerous other adventures in the city, which, not being in any way connected with this narrative, are not set down here. "i'm glad you brought this boy mike here," ned said, at the conclusion of the story. "we need some one who knows something about lima to keep us posted." "about what?" asked jimmie. "we're spotted!" leroy cried out, before ned could answer the question. "the wireless is swifter than the nelson!" "how do you know?" demanded the little fellow. "how do you know we're spotted?" "oh, ned's been doping it out," was the reply. "he'll tell you, i guess." "you thought you'd take the cream off the sensation!" laughed ned. "well, that is the boy of it! all i know about it, jimmie," he continued, "is that i've been receiving telegrams which simply mean nothing. they are from people i have never heard of, and are most mysteriously worded." "there's one that tells you to get out of the country," suggested leroy. "yes, but the others seem to infer that the man who sent them is out of his mind. the three received are from washington, san francisco, and new orleans." "what have the messages to do with our being spotted?" asked jimmie. "i don't see any connection." "stupid!" cried leroy. "can't you see the wires were sent to locate ned? the person who delivered them to him sure wired back that they had been delivered to ned in person--in other words, that he has reached lima on his journey to paraguay." "i see!" jimmie said, slowly. "it's clever, eh?" "too clever," ned said. "i don't like the looks of it. it means, of course, that the people who are trying to get the cattle concession away from mr. lyman have secret agents here. and that means that everything we do at lima will be watched and reported." "reported to whom?" asked leroy. "probably to this military person, senor lopez, who is on the job with both hands out," suggested jimmie. "well? what about it?" "i think," leroy cut in, "that we'd better be getting out of this. they can't follow us after we get up in the air." here a knock came on the door, and jimmie admitted mike and presented him to his chums. the boy looked trim and handsome in his new suit, and all took a great liking to him. while they discussed their plans another interruption took place, and then jimmie saw pedro at the door, beckoning excitedly to mike dougherty. the boy talked with the indian for a short time, and then turned to ned, excitement showing in his face. "he says there's another airship here," mike said. "prowling over the mountains." "they can't follow us in the air, eh?" cried leroy. "i guess this is going some!" chapter iii black bears on the amazon the handsome club room of the black bear patrol, in the city of new york, was situated on the top floor of the magnificent residence of attorney bosworth, one of the leading corporation lawyers in the country. jack bosworth, the lawyer's only son, was a member of the black bear patrol, and the club room had been fitted up at his request. it was in this room that ned nestor, jimmie mcgraw, jack bosworth, harry stevens, and frank shaw had planned their motor-boat trip down the columbia river, as described in the first volume of this series. jack, harry and frank had returned to new york from san francisco when ned had decided to accept the secret service mission to paraguay, at the conclusion of the motor-boat vacation on the columbia, leaving the two boats, the black bear and the wolf, stored at portland, oregon. one evening--the evening of the st of august, to be exact--while ned, sam, and jimmie were still in san francisco, awaiting the slow action of the state department at washington, jack, frank and harry met in the club room for the purpose of "sobbing together," as they expressed it. they had left their friends in san francisco reluctantly because of orders from home, and now they understood that they might have gone with ned and jimmie if they had only explained to their parents the purpose of the mission. "i suppose," frank shaw said, at the end of a long pause in the conversation, "i suppose ned and the others are out over the andes by this time." "no," replied jack. "i heard from jimmie by wire today, and they are still in frisco, and likely to remain there nearly a week longer." "if the airship was only large enough!" sighed harry. "we might still get there in time!" frank suggested, eagerly. "the nelson wouldn't carry us if we were there," jack exclaimed, in a disgusted tone. "i wish the black bear had wings! say, wouldn't that be a peach? we could run over to paraguay and scare the life out of the boys!" "what good would it do if she had wings?" demanded frank. "she is in storage at portland, oregon." "no," replied harry stevens, whose father, a noted maker of automobiles, had presented the motor-boats to his son, "i ordered the boats sent on here the day after we left the coast. we can take a trip up the hudson, anyway." jack walked thoughtfully around the room for a moment and then turned back to the others, looking moodily out of a window. "i've got it!" he shouted, slapping frank on the back. "i should say you had!" remarked frank. "what do you take for it?" "i say i've got an idea!" jack explained, jumping up and down and swinging his hands over his head. "a peach of an idea!" "does it hurt?" asked harry. "oh, cut out that funny stuff!" jack cried. "when will the two motor-boats be here?" harry counted on the fingers of his left hand. "we've been home two days," he said, "and we were four days getting to chicago. there we laid over a day, and came on here in twenty hours. we are eight days from the pacific coast. that right?" "it seems to be." "well, then, it is seven days since i ordered the black bear and the wolf sent on here in a special express car. they ought to be here now." "then," shouted jack, pulling harry around the room, "we're all right--fit as a brass band at a free lunch! whoo-pee!" "it must be hungry," frank exclaimed, regarding jack with seeming terror. "does it ever bite when it puts out these signals of distress?" "don't get too funny!" jack warned. "then loosen up on this alleged idea!" frank replied. jack rushed across the room and brought out an atlas of the world, which he dumped on the floor and opened. "look here, fellows!" he said, squatting over the map of south america, his chin almost on his knees. "we're looking," grinned frank. "what about it?" "here we are in new york," jack went on. "here they are in san francisco. now, they've got to sail to paraguay, which is just about twice as far from san francisco as is new york. anyway, that's the way it looks on the map." "it is all of that distance," harry put in. "well," jack continued, "as i said before, here we are in new york, with the mouth of the amazon river about as far away as san francisco, perhaps a little farther." "well?" demanded harry. "i begin to see the point!" frank admitted. "but will the folks stand for it?" "mine will," harry answered. "dad didn't make the black bear to lie in storage. he'll stand for it, all right." "so will mine," frank said, then. "i'll tell him i'll send him a lot of news for his paper." frank's father was owner and editor of the planet, one of the leading morning newspapers in the big city, and it was always a fiction of the boy's that he was going out in the interest of the paper when he wandered off on a trip with the boy scouts. "i'm afraid you can't make that work again," laughed jack. "ned says that you sent only four postal cards and six letters back from panama." "well, wasn't that going some?" asked frank. "of course, only ned says the postal cards carried the correspondence for the planet, and the letters carried requests for more money!" "anyway," frank insisted, "dad will stand for it. what is it?" "well," jack went on, "i'm sure my dad will let me go. he wants me to go about all i can. says it brightens a fellow to rub up against the rough places of the world." "there's rough corners enough in south america," laughed harry. "now, let us get down to figures," jack continued. "we ought to be able to get to the mouth of the amazon on a fast boat, with the black bear and the wolf on board, in a week or ten days-say ten days. about that time they will be getting into paraguay. what do you think of it?" "fine!" cried harry. "the best ever!" frank responded. "but what then? we can't run up to paraguay in the black bear." "we can get away up in the andes," answered jack, with the map of brazil before him. "see these crooked little lines? well, those are rivers. just see how far we can go in a motor boat." "but that won't bring us to the aeroplane," frank objected. "yes, it will," harry answered. "they are coming back by way of the amazon valley, and we can't miss them. oh, what's the use? suppose we begin packing?" "well, i don't know exactly what we are to do after we get up the amazon," harry laughed, "but i'm game to go. there are head-hunters and cannibals up there, and we may find a little amusement." "we're going after ned and jimmie," jack explained. "this is a relief expedition! after they get to paraguay they'll snatch that lyman person out of the cold, damp dungeon keep he is supposed to be in and then sail off over the amazon valley. there's where we catch up with them. do you suppose we can find a ship going to the mouth of the amazon early in the morning?" "you certainly are fierce when you get started!" laughed harry. "well," he added, "you can't get ready any too soon to please me." it was two days before the boys found a vessel going their way, and even then jack insisted that his father bribed the owners to run off their course in order to set the boys and their motorboats down at the mouth of the amazon river. the boat, however, was a fast one, equal in speed to a modern ocean liner; and in ten days from the time of starting from new york--on the th of august--the boys were stemming the current of the great river--more like a shoreless sea there at the mouth than a river! "huh!" frank exclaimed, as they left the island of joannes to the south, "this is no river! it is a blooming sea!" "pretty near three hundred miles wide at the delta, including that big island," harry said. "it is some river, eh?" "four thousand miles long!" jack contributed. "it is navigable for commercial purposes for , miles, and our boats can go up clear to the foot of the andes." "boats went there in the days of columbus," frank said. "a companion of columbus first discovered this great delta. the river fertilizes two million square miles of territory, and is the greatest water system in the world." "why," harry observed, desiring to contribute something startling to the discussion of the river, "the current is so strong that it carries fresh water and sand five hundred miles out into the atlantic ocean. it is just a fresh water river in a salt water sea for five hundred miles!" that night the boys kept the engines of the black bear going, one remaining on watch all through the dark hours. they had plenty of gasoline in the tank, and the tender, the wolf, was carrying a load of fuel which jack declared would last them until the end of the year! it may be well to state here that the black bear, the boy scout motorboat, was a specially constructed vessel, built by harry's father for river work. the materials were light yet strong, and the boat could easily be taken apart and put together again when occasion required. between the cross-grained slices of tough wood of which the craft was built were plates of steel, thus rendering the boat virtually bullet proof. the black bear was constructed so that it could be almost entirely thrown open to the sunshine when so desired or closed tightly against cold or rain. the roof could be rolled up in a bundle in the middle like the curtain of a modern desk. the sides were composed of oblong panels which could be inserted in grooved steel uprights when it was desired to close in the interior of the boat. the motors were very powerful. in fact, it was just such a boat as was needed on the trip the boys had in mind. it had done excellent service on the columbia, and nothing less could be expected of it on the amazon. the wolf, which was merely a tender, was watertight in construction, being shaped like a banana, and was towed by the motor-boat. here the extra stocks of gasoline, provisions, and ammunition were packed. the interior of the wolf was about six feet by eighteen in size, while the distance from rounded floor to convex roof was about four feet. on both sides of the interior were gasoline tanks, which also extended under the floor, lifting the bottom of the interior space three feet. above the tanks were spaces for provisions and ammunition. the space between the tanks and the lockers was about two feet, and here one might ride in comfort, after getting used to the rolling of the boat. there were tight glass panels of thick plate glass at the ends and the top. ventilators and loopholes, controlled by wires from the center, were cut in the ends and protected by sliding covers. lying in the passageway, one might look out at either end, and shoot out, too, if occasion required. when fully loaded, the wolf was submerged about half its height. on the top was a staff from which floated an american flag. the boys were very proud of the wolf, and jimmie had often declared, on the columbia river trip, that he would some day take an exciting ride in it. during their passage up the river the boys were often hailed from passing craft, but they took little heed, as they did not care to lose time gratifying the curiosity of those they met. indeed, if they had stopped to talk with all who hailed them, they would have made slow progress. up to about sixty years ago the amazon was closed to all save brazilian vessels, but now it is open to the commerce of the world. there are now vessels coming from and going to all parts of europe and america from amazon ports. there are lines of great steamers on the main stream, lines of smaller steamers on the big tributaries, and launches and small craft of all sizes on the affluent branches. often the passing ships, steamers, launches, etc., almost took the form of a procession on the lower waters. everywhere the smaller ships were gathering the products of the great amazon basin-rubber, cocoanuts, hardwoods, dyewoods, pelts, tropical fruits and other commodities. every year over three million tons of products come down the great river. the amazon drains a country as large as the united states east of the mississippi. its feeders reach the andes, draining watersheds within a hundred miles of the pacific ocean. it has tributaries fifteen hundred miles long. it did not take the black bear very long to pass the green islands near the delta. the river there looks like an ocean. in fact, the main branch of the amazon is from fifty miles to two hundred miles in width. some of the tributaries are a hundred miles wide. it is from fifty to two hundred feet deep. the water is always dark colored because of the wash brought down from the uplands. for a long time it did not seem possible to the boys that they were sailing on a river instead of an ocean. "ned and the boys must be over paraguay now," jack said, one day, after they had been on the river nearly a week without accident or important incident of any kind. "yes," frank replied, "they must be there by this time. jimmie said they were to leave san francisco on the th, or about that time. it would take a week or more to get to lima, for they couldn't remain in the air long at a time, and the resting spells would set them back a little. suppose they got to lima on the th, which was last monday, they could rest up and go prowling over that dirty little republic--which is not a republic at all, but a despotism tempered by revolution." "i'd like to know just what course ned has decided on," harry said. "i don't see how he's going to get to mr. lyman." "he'll find a way," jack insisted. "he always has, and he always will." it will be seen that the boys were tolerably accurate in their estimates of the speed of the nelson. on the day they were discussing the possible location of the big airship, which was the th of august, the nelson was in the center of as pretty a muss as ned had ever mixed with. the boys in the black bear put on all speed, traveling nights as well as days, and before long began watching the heavens, for an aeroplane. but the lads on the nelson were not looking for a boat poking her nose toward the andes--"a relief expedition," as jack called it! chapter iv a chase in the night following the excited announcement by mike that an airship was prowling about over the mountains and leroy's sudden cry of exultation at the prospect of a struggle for supremacy above the clouds, there was for a moment absolute silence in the hotel room where the boys stood. finally pedro entered and closed the door. ned walked to a window and looked out. the day was fading, and already the feet of the distant mountains were wrapped in purple twilight. the window faced the north, giving a fair view of the city and the andes as they strung along in that direction, looking like a chain of bald heads lifting from the obscurity of a fog. the airship was not in sight from where he stood. pedro saw what he was looking for and stepped to his side, one hand pointing off to the east. "out there!" he said. "when did you first see it?" asked leroy, not waiting for ned to conduct the cross-examination. the indian talked with mike for a moment. the latter did not seem to understand all that was said to him, but presently he turned to ned. "he says he saw it only a minute before he came here," he explained. "he says a lot more that i can't understand. i've been here only a month, and i'm not quick at learning new speech." "ask him if he knows whether she landed anywhere near the city," ned directed. the indian did not know. the airship was over the mountains when he first saw it, and that was all he could say about it. "do you think we've been followed down here?" asked jimmie. "of course!" leroy broke in. "what else would an airship be here for just at this time? and if she wasn't sneaking about after us, what would she be hanging up there in the sky for? why doesn't she come down to town, like we did?" "it may be that the arrival of this airship just at this time is a coincidence," ned said, "but it seems to me that there is something significant about it. i have felt all along that we were not yet rid of the rascals who tried to make us trouble at san francisco." "some one must want the cattle concession that lyman has pretty badly," leroy ventured. "well, we'll, have to run away from them, i take it!" "then how are we going to find out where this lyman person is?" demanded jimmie. "no, sir!" he went on, rubbing his freckled nose in meditation. "we've just naturally got to bust 'em up!" the proposition was indeed a serious one. if the airship was really there to take note of the activities of the boys on the nelson, the situation could hardly be improved by following either line of conduct suggested by the boys. nothing could be gained by "running away" from the unwelcome visitor. nothing was to be gained by following the advice to "bust 'em up." a race would only serve to draw the nelson away from the point of action, away from the place where lyman was held in captivity. to "bust 'em up" would be to set all the official rings of paraguay in operation against the lads, place the boy scouts under the ban of the law! "if we only knew just where to find this lyman person," jimmie went on, "we might swoop down an' get him an' give the lobsters a run for their money." "perhaps," ned suggested, "we'd better wait for this new navigator of the air to show us where he is." "i see him doing it!" cried leroy. "you bet he will!" jimmie cut in. "he'll hang around the point of danger! he'll show us where the man is by standing guard over him! what?" "that's my idea," ned replied, "still, he may devote his energies to keeping track of us. one can never tell what an enemy will do." "well," leroy said, "i'm going back to the nelson. there's a chance of the lobster dropping down and trying to cripple her." "a very good idea," ned agreed. jimmie and mike hastened away with leroy, but pedro remained at the request of ned. a plan for meeting the emergency was already forming in the active brain of the boy scout, and an important detail depended on information which the indian might be able to give. before opening the question, however, ned, motioning to the indian to follow, made his way to the flat roof of the hotel building. there he found several men, smoking, chatting, and watching the airship, now almost directly over the city. in peru many houses are built with especial reference to providing a lounging place on the roof. it was growing darker, and the lights of the airship shone brightly against the dimming sky. the aviator was now circling around the city, dropping lower at times, then skimming in spirals to a higher point. while ned stood watching the machine, realizing that the fellow in charge was no novice in aviation, a gentleman whom he had noticed three times before that day observing him closely advanced and stood by his side. he was a well dressed, clean-shaven man of perhaps thirty, with an intelligent face, a bustling manner, and a suit of clothes which jimmie would have described as "loud enough to lead a circus parade." "evidently an american commercial traveler," ned thought, as the stranger stood by his side a moment without speaking, his eyes fixed on the airship. "she goes some, eh?" the stranger observed, presently. "the aviator seems to know his business," ned admitted. "you came in an aeroplane yourself, didn't you?" asked the other. ned answered in the affirmative. "thought so," the other went on. "hadn't seen you about the city until this afternoon, and some one said you came in an airship. where from?" "new york," ned replied, half amused at the impertinence of the question. "good old town!" the other exclaimed. "hot old town! i like it. there's something always going on there. i'm from new york myself, but i'm selling goods for a chicago firm--steam pumps! i've got the best steam pump in seven countries! came here to sell to a mining company. nothing doing. what's your name? mine is thomas q. collins." "nestor," ned replied, shortly. "and you're out for fun?" "that's the idea." ned did not think it necessary to enter into details. "hope you get all that's coming to you! say, will you give me a ride in that machine of yours? i went out to see it today. looks to me like it could knock the spots off anything of the kind in the world. i don't know anything about airships, but i do know about steam pumps, and also about machinery. i know a good piece of work when i see it. that boat of yours is a peach!" "it isn't my machine," ned replied, "but if we remain here over tomorrow i'll see about granting your request." the two talked for a moment longer, and then collins left the roof. later, ned saw him moving through the street below in the direction of the place where the nelson had been left. the boy hardly knew what to make of collins. he might be a steam pump salesman, just as he had described himself, and, again, he might be a spy sent out by lyman's enemies to discover the plans of the boy scouts--even to wreck the nelson if possible. he decided to, if possible, learn something of the fellow before taking him on board the aeroplane. after a time the strange airship fluttered away to the north and then ned and pedro descended to the former's room. sitting at the north window, the two could see the lights of the aeroplane dropping downward, and they concluded that the aviator was seeking a resting place for the night. "he's going to bed in inca valley," pedro said, watching the descending bird. "it is a good place to hide the machine." the words were spoken in pretty good spanish, and ned turned quickly and asked: "you speak spanish then?" the question was asked in spanish, and the indian's face brightened. "yes," he said, "but i never suspected that you knew the language." "only a smattering of it," laughed ned, "but, still, i think you can understand what i say to you. as i want you to do most of the talking, we may get on very well together." "what do you want to know?" asked pedro. "first, i want you, after we have had our talk, to go out into the city and find out, if you can, all about that aeroplane. i want to know if it has ever been seen here before, if the aviator comes to the city after descending, if he is a stranger here--all about him, in fact." the indian bowed. "then," ned went on, "i want you to find out whether the machine is well guarded. i also want to know what kind of a machine it is, and where it came from. if you think it advisable i want you to get into conversation with the aviator and see what kind of a chap he is." another bow from the indian, whose face expressed pleasure at the prospective employment. ned pondered for a moment, as if not quite certain of his ground, and then asked: "how, well are you acquainted with the country lying between lima and asuncion?" "oh," was the astonished reply, "but that is a long, long distance--two, three thousand miles." "yes, i know, but have you ever been over the andes?" "oh, yes. i am a guide." ned pondered a moment. "how far east and south?" he asked, then. "to lake titicaca." "that is on the boundary between peru and bolivia?" "yes." "and you know that country--the country around the lake?" "very well, indeed." "it is a long way from asuncion?" "it is barely a third of the way. you will see on the map." "well," ned said, after a short silence, "i may as well tell you what i want. i want to be directed to a place in the mountains where i can securely hide our aeroplane. it must be a hiding place absolutely out of sight, especially from the sky. do you understand?" the indian nodded, a knowing smile on his dusky face. "you mean to hide from the other airship?" he asked. "yes." "there are caverns near lake titicaca." "so i understand. caverns which defy exploration. but, you see, i must have a hiding place from which the airship can be brought out with speed and returned in the same way." "to dodge out and in? yes, i comprehend." the two dwelt over the maps and plans until; leroy and jimmie came romping in to report that all was quiet at the machine, and that mike was to remain on guard until midnight, when jimmie was to relieve him. then pedro went out in the city to listen to such talk of the strange airship as was floating about the streets. he was back in a couple of hours with the information that the airship had not landed in the city, and that it had never been seen there before. "it seems to me," ned said after the indian ceased speaking, "that now is our time. we ought to be a long way from lima before dawn." "the other fellow'll see us!" leroy objected. "we'll have to chance that," ned replied. "we needn't have any lights you know, and the motors make very little noise. get your traps ready, boys!" it was arranged that pedro was to remain, under pay, in lima, storing up such information as he could secure against the day of the return of the nelson. mike was to remain with him, of course, as there would be no room on the nelson for him. the young man when told of the plans, objected strenuously to being left, but was finally consoled by the promise that the aeroplane would be sent back after him when opportunity offered. it was after midnight when all the arrangements were made and the boys passed out of their rooms into the hotel lobby. at that hour they thought the driver of the other aeroplane would be likely to be sleeping. at the very door of the hotel they came upon mr. thomas q. collins! he strolled up as ned stepped into the doorway and extended his hand. ned took it, gave it a perfunctory grasp, and attempted to paw on. "if you don't mind," collins said, with a persuasive mile, "i'll walk with you if you are going out to your aeroplane. i've been to bed and find that i can't sleep." "all right," ned replied, thinking that he would rather have the man with him than on his way to report the departure of the nelson. "we are just going to look the ship over--perhaps take a little spin. come along." "i should like very much to go with you, in case you decide to go sailing tonight," collins said. "perhaps you may be able to arrange it?" "i'm afraid not tonight," ned replied, wondering just what this new acquaintance was up to. "however," he added, "you may as well come along and look over the ship." collins seemed glad of even this slight concession on the part of the boy, and walked along briskly. presently, however, he began to fall back, talking with jimmie, who was a few paces behind. then, before very long, the little fellow missed collins. he had disappeared in a dark alley. ned worried over this when informed of the fellow's strange and contradictory conduct. the man might have gone to make report to the other aviator! this was not a pleasant reflection. mike was found sitting in front of the nelson, talking with a native who was trying to learn all about an aeroplane from, a boy who knew nothing about it himself! it took only a short time to make ready for flight, then the nelson was up and away, making little noise as she cut the air, her great planes flashing in the light of the moon. "this is pretty poor, i guess!" leroy exclaimed, glancing over the mighty map of sea and plain and mountain. "how fast do you want to go?" "at full speed," ned replied. "i should say it would be full speed!" jimmie said, half covering his mouth with his hand, to keep his words from being blown back down his throat. "that is," he added, "if you want to make a sneak!" ned turned away to the north and saw the white planes of the strange aeroplane gleaming in the moonlight. she seemed to stand still for an instant, and then sped off to the southeast. ned sighed with apprehension, but leroy laughed. "come along, you!" he cried, looking back. "if you want a race, come on, and i'll give you the run of your life!" chapter v jimmie takes a run in the air the white aeroplane flashed by, going farther to the east, and ned laid a hand on leroy's arm as he was about to increase speed. "don't hurry," he said, almost screaming the words into the boy's ear. "i don't want him to beat me!" the driver called back. "let him go," ned commanded. "play about the scenery a little while, and then we'll go back to lima." "let me catch him!" pleaded leroy. "just let me chase around him a couple of times. i want to see him make a sneak when he sees the nelson in action!" "can you do it?" asked ned. "sure i can do it. just give me a chance. there isn't a machine in the world that can win a race against the nelson!" "i'm sure of that," ned answered, "and i hope that fellow over there won't find it out right away. let him think he can go by us like we were tied to a cloud, if he wants to. there will come a time when his confidence in his machine will cost him his job!" leroy saw that ned was really in earnest in the expressed wish to deceive the aviator of the rival aeroplane, and also saw that there was good reason for doing so, so he shut off the motors and started to volplane downward. "no," ned said, "that's not right. make him think we're trying to catch him. give him the impression that we want to overhaul him, but haven't the speed." "the nelson will blush red with shame to be bested by a water wagon like that!" leroy grumbled, but he did as requested. the white aeroplane's driver appeared to take the bait. he loitered, as if waiting for the nelson to come up, then circled away from her in great wide swaths. once he swept around the nelson, and leroy almost shed tears of chagrin. "just see him!" the boy wailed. "he thinks i've got a dirt cart here! he is putting it all over me! i can go two miles to his one, and yet i'm taking all his guff! let me get at him! i'll run him down!" in a short time the stranger, apparently satisfied that he could outfly the nelson, should he desire to do so, moved off to the south and soon disappeared in the distance. "now what?" asked leroy, half angrily. "he'll watch for us," ned replied, "but he won't find us chasing him. go through some of your flip-flaps and then go back toward lima. i want to say a few words to that mr. thomas q. collins." half mollified at the thought of getting a little speed out of the nelson, leroy drove straight for the zenith. up, up, up he went, onward toward the stars, shining no brighter for his approach, yet luring him on. all the world below was flooded with moonlight and starlight. the mountains were dim in spots, where higher peaks dominated the light, the pacific shone in the radiance of the night. the blue dome of heaven rounded away like a precious bowl set with diamonds. the roofs of lima drew closer together, apparently, and the whole town looked like a little cluttered point of land. and the mountains and the sea stretched away endlessly, and earth took on the look of a great rug woven with invisible stripes. up, up, up, until the air became thin and the lungs staggered for breath. then the motors were shut off and the ocean and the mountain chains seemed to rise up to meet the aeroplane, sailing at the speed of the fastest express. over the water and down until even jimmie clutched ned's arm and gave forth an exclamation of alarm. then a turn of a lever sent the nelson skimming over calleo and back toward lima. avoiding the vacant space where the nelson had rested before, leroy, under ned's directions, landed on the dry sand some distance away. "of course that other chap will find us when he comes back," ned said, when the boys stood on solid ground again, "but we'll try to make him think we're hanging around peru just for the fun of it." "perhaps he won't come back," suggested leroy. "then i'll lose my chance of showing him what the nelson can do." "i have an idea that he'll be back by morning," ned replied. in this the boy was right, for the white aeroplane showed in a couple of hours, just about dawn, circled around the city, hovered for a moment over the nelson, and then went off to the north again. "it is a certainty that she is here to butt into our game!" jimmie said, as the white planes disappeared. "she'll start when we start, an' stop when we stop, an' there won't be any getting away from her. how does she get into the air so quick after we cut loose? that's what i'd like to know." "some system of signals, undoubtedly," ned answered. "now," he continued, "we'll cuddle up in our blankets here and sleep as long as the natives will let us. who'll keep awake?" each one wanted to be the one to stand guard, but the point was decided by the appearance of mike and pedro, who had watched the maneuvers of the nelson, had noted her landing place, and hastened forward. thus relieved of the care of the machine, the three boys hastened to the hotel and were soon sound asleep. it was noon when ned awoke, brought out of a deep slumber by an impatient knocking at his door. he was out of bed in an instant and, clad only in his pajamas, opened the door and looked out. mr. thomas q. collins stood in the corridor with a look of alarm on his face. "thought i'd never get you out," he said, stepping, uninvited, into the room and taking a chair. "thought that you ought to know what's been going on." ned had little confidence in collins. the fellow's strange conduct of the night before naturally made the boy suspicious. after requesting a ride in the nelson, or, at least, the company of the boy scouts to the place where the machine had been left, he had disappeared without a word of explanation. it seemed to ned that he had good grounds for the belief that collins had spied around until he had learned that the aeroplane was going up, and had then communicated the information to the man on the white machine. at least, the strange aviator had shown in the air directly after the disappearance of collins. but it was no part of ned's purpose to permit collins to see that he was suspected. it was rather his idea to keep on good terms with the fellow and watch him for any evidences of treachery. he therefore greeted him cordially and asked: "something interesting going on in the city? we did not return until nearly dawn, and i've been asleep ever since." "you haven't heard about the attack on our aeroplane, then?" asked collins, looking ned over keenly. the boy tried not to exhibit the least emotion or excitement at the disturbing question. leaning back in the chair he had taken, he asked: "the curiosity of the people got the better of their courtesy, eh? i have been afraid of that. well, i hope the nelson was not seriously injured." thomas q. collins had the appearance of one who had expected to unwrap a great sensation and had failed. his face was a study. "well, no," he replied. "the fact is, when the rush was made the aeroplane shot up into the air." "then one of the boys must have been there," ned said, calmly, although his heart was beating like a drum. "the little fellow was there, the one you call jimmie," was the reply. "and he went into the air alone?" "no; at the last minute a peruvian indian who has been hanging about the machine ever since you came here went with him." "then there is no danger," ned replied, really feeling relieved at the thought that jimmie was not alone in the aeroplane. "the lad will bring the nelson back in good time. anyway, he is entitled to a little excursion, 'all by his lonely,' as he puts it." "he can operate the machine?" "certainly. he can handle the nelson easily." thomas q. collins regarded ned steadily for a moment, his brusque, salesmanship manner all gone, and then asked: "'where are you going from here?" the fellow was showing his hand at last! or was this just natural curiosity? at that moment ned was more interested in discovering something about the attack on the nelson than in fighting off personal and impertinent questions, so he said: "we haven't made up our minds as to our future course. by the way, what was the cause of the attack on the aeroplane?" "oh," replied collins, frowning slightly, "there were a lot of people gathered about the ropes, and one of your guards was a little coarse in protecting your property, and there was a blow struck, then the mob rushed the roped-in enclosure. i think there was no one seriously injured." "i wonder if the other aviator is also having trouble with his machine?" asked ned, anxious to know what collins would say about the white aeroplane. "i don't know about that," collins replied. "in fact, the other fellow went off to the south soon after the departure of the nelson." "chased jimmie up, eh?" "well, anxious for a race, it seemed to me." "has the nelson returned?" asked ned, then. collins shook his head. "if you'll excuse me, then," ned said, presently. "i'll dress and take breakfast and go down to see what's doing." "your breakfast will be luncheon, i guess," laughed collins. "i was on my way to the dining room when i thought of you. if you don't mind i'll wait for you in the lobby. these natives are not very good table companions. i'm sick for the sight of my own countrymen, anyway, and i can't tell you how glad i am to see you here." collins went out and closed the door and ned set about his toilet. he did not know what to make of the alleged steam pump salesman. at times he appeared to be perfectly frank and honest, then there would come to his eyes a look of half-concealed cunning and greed which put the boy on his guard. however, ned thought, the correct way to fathom the fellow's intentions would be to remain in his company as much as possible. so the boy bathed and dressed and went down to collins in the lobby with a cheerful face. during the meal collins talked incessantly of the country and his prospects in south america. ned listened, saying little, even in the short spaces of silence. he was waiting for the fellow to strike some chord which tuned with his actions of the night before. at last it came. "i'm thinking of going over to asuncion," he said, when the meal was nearly over. "there are mines over that way, and i may stand a chance of selling a pump. rotten luck in peru, and i can't afford to spend all this expense money and not sell a thing. i hear that there are a few americans over in paraguay," he added, tentatively, smiling over at ned. "i know very little about the country," ned said, coolly, fearful that collins would drop that line of conversation, "and i never heard that foreigners of any sort were made welcome in paraguay. i don't think we'll go out of our way any to visit that hot little republic." collins looked disappointed. ned could see that. in a moment he tried again to bring the subject out, but ned seemed entirely indifferent. when the two left the hotel and walked in the direction of the sand lot where the nelson had been left, the boy was fully satisfied that collins was in league with his enemies. for all he knew, the fellow might be the very man who was trying to get lyman's concession away from him. this might be the man who was bribing the crooked military chief to make it impossible for the cattle man to carry out his contract. "what time did the nelson leave?" ned asked, as they drew near a little group of natives standing on the sand lot. "not far from nine," was the reply. "i didn't think jimmie would be out that early," laughed ned. "he is a little sleepy head, ordinarily." pushing their way into the center of the little crowd, ned and collins found leroy and mike dougherty engaged in a heated debate with a police officer who was threatening arrest. ned stepped back so as not to attract the attention of the boys, and kept his eyes fixed on collins. in a moment he saw that gentleman give an impatient gesture which seemed to urge the officer on. ned thought fast for a moment. he was considering whether or not he had been brought there for the purpose of getting into a row in defense of his chums and being arrested with them. he was heartily glad that the nelson was out of the way, although he would have been better pleased had he been safe aboard of her. "these peruvian officers are too fresh!" collins said, in a moment. "what do you mean by molesting these boys?" he added, in spanish, turning to the officer. "they are charged with assault," the latter replied. "by whom?" asked ned, also speaking in spanish. "they struck half a dozen citizens," was the indefinite reply. "we must take them to jail." "i'll give you a bump in the eye if you come near me!" leroy put in, as he searched the sky eagerly for some sign of the nelson. "that wouldn't help matters any," ned said, speaking in english. "go along with the officer, and i'll pay your fine." collins looked annoyed at this cautious advice. he came nearer to ned and whispered: "the courts are slow and uncertain here. it may be weeks before the boys will be restored to liberty if they are locked up. if we could get them away into the mountains until the nelson returns that would end the whole affair." "and so you want to get me mixed up in it, too!" thought ned, as the officer glared at him. "you want to get me on a charge of resisting arrest! when we get out of here, mr. thomas q. collins, i'll see that you get what's coming to you!" if collins could have known what was passing in ned's mind, could have understood how suspicious the boy was of him, he would not have urged the lads, in english, to cut and run. by doing so he merely confirmed ned's unfavorable opinion of him. from that moment ned knew him for what he was, and resolved to get him out of the way in some manner. leroy and mike paid little attention to what collins said, as a shake of the head from ned gave them to understand what was passing in his mind. in a moment ned stepped to the side of the policeman. "you are all right, officer," he said. "you are only doing your duty. the boys will go with you, and i'll pay their fines." but, as ned discovered, it is easier to get into jail in peru than it is to get out. chapter vi ned is guilty of larceny night came on and no nelson showed in the sky. ned wandered restlessly about the rather handsome city, anxious for the aeroplane as well as for the boys who were in the city prison. collins was always with him, at first, expressing sympathy and suggesting plans for getting the prisoners out on bail. the complainant in the case, it was claimed by the officers, was too badly injured to appear in court. ned grew sick of the constant talking of the fellow at last, and went to his room, saying that he was due for a little sleep. but the boy, as may well be imagined, did not sleep. instead, he sat by his window watching the sky. where had jimmie gone with the machine? this question was always in his mind. had he met with an accident and was he lying, crushed from a long fall, in some mountain canyon? had the pursuing aeroplane overtaken him and destroyed or captured the nelson? it was not like the little fellow to disappear so utterly. even supposing he was afraid to return to lima, he ought to understand how anxious his friends would be and signal them from the upper air. surely, ned reasoned, this would be safe, for the hostile machine could not approach the nelson in speed, and, after giving a reassuring signal, the boy could disappear in the mountains again. it was dark now in the room where ned was, and he sat looking out at the sky in the hope of seeing the welcome lights of the aeroplane. presently, he saw a flicker of light off to the east. it increased in size rapidly, and ned knew that it was an airship he saw approaching at wonderful speed, but he had no means of knowing whether it was jimmie on the nelson or the hostile aviator. if it was jimmie, he thought, there would be a signal directly. he waited eagerly, but no signal showed. presently the airship drifted off to the north, and ned saw the glint of moonlight on white planes. it was the hostile ship, sure enough, but why had she abandoned pursuit of the nelson? ned resolved to secure a closer view of the airship, but the next question was how to avoid collins, who was at that moment pacing to and fro in front of the hotel. the alleged salesman would be apt to accost him as soon as he appeared and insist on going with him. he had had enough of collins. he had no doubt that the fellow was in the conspiracy against him. it seemed reasonable that he had been warned by wire of the approach of the boy scouts, and had hastened to lima to intercept them. ned thought over the situation deliberately, and then a daring smile came to his face. "i wonder if i can?" he chuckled as he asked himself the question. "i wonder if i can?" he paced his room for a moment, and then continued. "if he goes with me, there will be less suspicion, provided i am right in my estimate of the fellow. we may be even left alone with the aeroplane! ah, that would be too good to come true!" the boy watched the sky to the east from the roof as well as from his window, but there were no signs of the aeroplane which jimmie had taken away. "the little rascal knows what he is doing!" ned told himself, "but i wish he would let me know, too! i reckon i'll take a chance on the plan. i'll try anything once, as the bowery boys say." having settled the vexed question in his own mind, ned went whistling down the broad stairway and came out in the lobby. just as he had figured, collins sat where he could keep an eye on the front entrance. when ned appeared the fellow arose and stepped over to him. "there is nothing new, i'm afraid," collins said. "i've just been over to the police station, and nothing can be done tonight." ned thought that collins must have made pretty good time to get over to the police station and back during the short space of time he had been out of sight, but he did not say so. "anything new about the aeroplane?" asked ned. "i saw the white one come back." "perhaps she can give us the information we want about your ship, or, perhaps the aviator can," he added with a laugh. "why not go and see?" asked ned, his heart bounding with hope and excitement as he noted how eagerly collins took the bait. "can we get a motor-car here? the machine must be quite a distance away." "it does look that way," collins replied, with a yawn, "and we may as well take a car, if we can find one. i hope you don't mind my going with you." "why, i wouldn't go alone!" ned replied, speaking with perfect truth, as collins discovered later on. "you don't know how glad i am to find you up and ready for a little adventure!" collins, in turn, told how pleased he was to be of service, and the two found a motor-car and started off, taking a road which ran along a level strip of land which lay between the sand and the mountains. they had proceeded a couple of miles when a motor-car appeared in sight just ahead of them, traveling toward the city. collins arose in his seat and waved his hand frantically. "i believe that's sherman!" he cried. "sherman's here for a rival steam pump firm, but i'll be good to him, especially as there is nothing doing in the way of trade. hey, there, sherm!" he shouted as the two cars drew nearer. "pull up and give an account of yourself!" sherman was a dark-faced, black-haired, bewhiskered fellow of perhaps forty. he was dressed in a dark business suit and wore glasses. the two men talked shop for a moment, and then collins asked: "where have you been?" "just out for a ride," was the reply. "you saw the airship come down?" "of come, but i'm not interested in airships." "then you haven't been out there?" "hardly. it doesn't interest me--this aviation craze." "then you don't know whether the aviator is out there or not?" continued collins. "why, yes, i do know about that," sherman replied. "i heard this driver of mine talking spanish with a shoofer we met, and learned from the mix-up in tongues that the aviator has gone to the city, leaving a couple of natives in charge of the machine." ned's heart bounded so fiercely that he feared that collins would hear its quick beats! the aviator was not there. only two peruvians, timid chaps at best! mr. thomas q. collins might receive his reward for his treachery sooner than he imagined, the boy thought! "well, so long!" collins cried. "we'll see you in the city tonight." the cars parted, each going its separate way, and ned and collins were soon within sight of the white aeroplane, which lay in a valley a short distance from the road. the spot where it lay was well irrigated, and fruits and vegetables were growing all around the rope which had been strung about the machine. the aviator had evidently paid a good price for the privilege of landing there. a short distance away from the site of the machine was a small house, a tiny affair, with plenty of porches and a flat roof. as the two men left the car and advanced toward the machine a man left the porch and walked in their direction. "probably the farmer," collins said. "we may have to pay for the privilege of looking over the machine." much to the amazement of the boy, the man who approached from the porch spoke to the two in english. "what do you want?" he asked. ned waited for collins to make a reply. if collins really was in the conspiracy against lyman, he would probably show his hand within the next few minutes. just as ned anticipated collins gave the other a sly signal before he opened his mouth. ned was not supposed to see this evidence of a common understanding, but his watchful eyes caught not only that but the answering sign of the other. "we came up to look over the machine," collins said. "well, you keep away from it," the other replied, fixing his eyes keenly on the face of the boy. "this lad," collins said, then, motioning toward ned, "knows something about an aeroplane, and wants to inspect this one." a sly wink followed the remark. it was getting rather cheap to ned. the collusion between the two was so evident that their attempts to conceal it appeared very slazy. "yes," ned put in, "i'd like to look the machine over." "you came in that other aeroplane?" was asked. ned nodded, and collins broke in: "he's an expert, but he has no machine just at present. a member of his party took his machine away this morning," he added, with a chuckle. "so rowan said," the alleged farmer replied. "rowan?" repeated ned. "is that the name of the aviator who runs this machine?" "yes; he is a new york man. do you know him?" ned replied that he had heard of him, knew him to be a splendid operator, but had never met him. after some further talk ned and collins were given permission to look at the machine, which was called the vixen. collins expressed his thanks in elaborate language, but ned went straight to the vixen, which was then guarded by a peruvian indian. he was weary of the cheap pretense of the other. "this is a peach of a machine," the alleged farmer explained, following ned as he walked about the great planes. "see here! no cranking at all! you just get into the seat, which will carry two nicely, and push this button. that releases a spring which whirls the propellers until the spark is made, then off you go." ned admired the arrangement fully, as he was expected to do. the nelson was fitted out in the same way, but he did not say so. presently the indian left the circle created by the rope and, going into the shelter of the porch, left collins and ned with the alleged farmer, who announced that his name was yerkes. ned thought this action on the part of the indian was in obedience to a signal from collins, but could not be too sure of it. then collins and yerkes trailed about after ned as he wandered around the airship. the boy saw the former remove certain bits of wood which blocked the wheels of the vixen, also he saw yerkes, testing the gasoline gauge and looking the carburetor over carefully. "it is all right," the boy thought. "two hearts with but a single thought, two souls that beat as one--or the reverse anyway, they are thinking of giving me a ride in this old ice wagon! pretty soon they'll be asking me to get up on the seat and see how easy it is. then one of them will slip this harness about me--the harness provided for timid riders--and i'll be off in the air--a prisoner!" collins and yerkes tinkered about the aeroplane for some moments, while ned seemed to be studying the machine. the boy was anxious for the decisive moment to come. finally yerkes, went back to the porch and stood there in conversation with the indian for a number of minutes. when he returned collins stepped forward toward the seat. knowing that the time for action had come, ned sprang into the driver's seat. collins looked vexed at the movement, but ned laughed down at him. "i won't hurt your old machine," the boy said. "get up here, so we can see how it rides." collins obeyed, first giving yerkes a significant look which was not lost on the watchful boy. the harness for the visitor's seat was a peculiar one, as ned had noted with considerable satisfaction. there were leather cuffs for the wrists and a broad leg band which prevented the guest leaving his seat. the cuffs held the hands close together in the lap, the idea being to prevent a timid person from grasping the arm of the driver in a moment of terror. "move on over!" collins called, as he stepped up, "and i'll see if i can take you out of the valley without breaking your neck. don't say a word to yerkes about his race with the nelson," he added, in a whisper. "he got beaten, and doesn't like to talk about it." ned noticed but remained where he was, so collins reluctantly took the other seat. as he did so yerkes stepped forward, and the indian stationed himself at the back of the machine, where he could give it a push down the incline which lay before it, and against which the wheels had been blocked. as soon as collins was fairly in the seat, ned gave the harness a quick snap, and the click of metal told him that the cuffs had closed about collins' wrists, that the broad strap which held him down was in position. then he pushed the button and the spark caught. the vixen moved down the incline. collins tried to lift his hands, but was unable to do so, so he lifted his voice instead! yerkes, in the whirr of the machine, doubtless mistook the voice for that of the boy, for he paid no attention to it. "help! help!" roared collins. "stop the machine! he's got me tied down! stop it, you fool! stop it!" yerkes and the indian looked stolidly on with grins on their faces, and ned stuck an elbow into collins' ribs. "keep still," he said, "or i'll have to put you out of the speech habit. i've got you just where you expected to get me, and you ought not to kick about the accommodations." "yerkes!" yelled collins. "why don't you stop the machine? catch hold of the propellers and yank them off! put a bullet through this young fiend! anything to stop the crazy thing. i tell you he's got me tied in!" then yerkes, recognizing the voice, sprang toward the propellers. he made a brisk spring, but was too late. the blades were just about an inch out of his reach. foiled in this attempt, he drew a revolver and began firing foolish shots at the machine, none of which came near the mark. in a moment the vixen was under full speed, the ground dropped away, and the last ned saw of yerkes and the indian they were performing a dance of rage on the growing vegetables below. straight to the south the machine flew, the motors popping like mad. the boy saw little crowds in the lighted streets below, looking and pointing up at the aeroplane, and then the city streets faded away into a dull mat, and there were only the silent peaks, the sea, and the deep, dim valleys. then ned turned to his prisoner, who had by this time given over the useless struggle against the harness. collins' eyes were fixed on the moonlit pacific, away off to the west, and the boy's eyes followed those of his captive. a steamer was creeping into the shallow harbor at calleo, and the dark spot on the sand showed that a crowd was there to greet her. the vixen was too far away for ned to see the surf boats getting ready to take off the passengers and freight, but he knew that they were there. it was now eleven o'clock, and the moon was well up in the sky. the ribs of the andes lay like silver in its light. strain his eyes as he might, there was no indication of the nelson. "fine view!" ned said, presently, giving collins a nudge in the ribs with his elbow. "how do you like it?" thomas q. collins was near bursting with rage. he hitched about in his seat, but to no purpose. "what does this mean?" he finally found words to say, screaming at the top of his voice, for the vixen was now making good speed. "i preferred to be the host rather than the guest," the boy said, with a shrug of the shoulders. "i don't know what you mean by that," collins replied. "you meant to capture me tonight?" asked ned. "nothing of the kind!" roared collins. "you got leroy and mike in jail, and you thought you'd burst up this relief expedition by putting me out of the way," ned went on. "now, we'll see who'll be put out of the way." "what are you here for?" asked collins. "you know very well," replied ned. "but it is too much exertion to talk at this speed. wait until we land and i'll tell you all about your intentions! understand? all about your intentions." "much you know about them," shrieked collins. ned made no reply to this, for, away off to the southeast, he caught sight of the dipping lights of an airship which might or might not be the nelson. chapter vii the black bear in trouble one still night on the amazon jack bosworth got out a map and turned a flashlight on it. frank and harry stood looking over his shoulder. "right here," jack said, presently, "is where we leave the main stream of the amazon and take to the madeira." "how do you know that stream is the madeira?" asked frank. "we have passed so many large tributaries that i'm all mixed up." "and why not try some other stream?" harry questioned. "i've heard that the madeira is full of falls and rapids." "anyway," jack insisted, "it takes us away up into the andes, almost to lake titicaca, and that's all any stream will do. as for the falls and rapids, do you expect any stream to creep down from that great plateau without jumping off occasionally?" "all right," frank cut in. "go your own way to destruction! but how do you know that rippling sheet of water off there," swinging an arm to the south, "is the madeira river? it looks like a lake to me." "i found out while you were asleep this morning," jack replied. "a chap came along in a launch and i asked him all about it. he said he had just come from the andes, and advised me to turn back." "kind-hearted little fellow, eh?" laughed harry. "he wasn't very little," answered jack. "he was six feet two, and was coming out with a finger off and a cut across a cheek bone which will last him for a spell, i guess. he cut his finger off because a poisoned arrow struck it." "cannibals?" asked harry, with a laugh. "the same," replied jack. "said they chased him for miles." "we'll curb their appetites with lead," harry observed. "if we see them first," added jack. so the black bear was turned into the madeira river, which is something like seven hundred miles long, and drains the wooded country where the black sheep of the land of brazil live. away up in the hills it is fed by the beni river, which has its source in the mountains east of lake titicaca. more than once the boys were obliged to haul their motor boat out on a rocky "bench," take it to pieces, carry it and most of the stock around rapids, and then put it together and load up again. still, they made good time, and on the evening of the third day found themselves at the junction with the beni river. they were now in a wild and dangerous country. the forests swarmed with wild game, the thickets were full of serpents, and the trees were often crowded with monkeys. for two days they had seen no natives. this was suspicious as it was certain that they had penetrated to the home of the cannibal tribes so greatly dreaded by hunters and explorers. it was on the evening of the st of august that jack sent the black bear into a little creek, shut off the power, and turned to put up the panels. it was not very warm, but the atmosphere was sticky and heavy with the breath of the woods. "we'll smother in there tonight," frank said, observing the actions of the other. "why not leave some of 'em out?" "if you want a poisoned arrow nestling in your ribs you can sleep outside," jack answered. "for my part, i want to wake up in this good old world in the morning." "i don't think there's any danger yet," frank said. but the panels were put up and supper prepared. by this time the lads had become accustomed to preparing their own meals, as well as providing the fish from the river, and the repast was soon over. then jack lay back and gazed through the one glass panel of the top of the black bear. it was a dark, lowering night. the wind is usually from the east in that part of brazil. blowing over the atlantic it gathers up moisture to dump on the eastern slope of the andes. the summits drain the clouds and makes peru a dry country. it was murky now, and the clouds hung low. "what do you see up there, jack?" asked frank. "trying to study astronomy, with not a star in sight?" "there you are wrong," jack replied. "there is at least one star in sight." "with that mass of clouds drifting over the sky?" laughed harry. "i reckon you must be seeing things not present to the senses!" "come and look, then," jack invited. "look straight up, and you'll see a star." frank placed himself under the glass panel and looked up. "well?" jack demanded, in a tone of triumph. "it's something," frank exclaimed, "but i don't believe it is a star." "it may be a reflector at the top of the flatiron building," grinned jack. "what is it, if it isn't a star?" "look yourself!" cried frank. the boys were all looking now. they saw the light which jack had mistaken for a star flashing to and fro under the clouds like a firefly. it rushed earthward with amazing speed for an instant, then spiraled upward again. once it came directly over the black bear, and seemed about to drop down. jack threw a couple of panels open, and then the whirr of motors reached their ears. frank sprang outside and turned a flashlight upward. "there's your star!" he shouted to jack. "quick!" harry cried. "wigwag with that light. it is the nelson! they may be able to see us!" "yell, every soul of you!" directed frank. "yell! she is going away!" the boys waved their lights frantically and shouted at the top of their voices, but the light in the sky crept away to the west and soon disappeared, evidently passing above the clouds which lay like a black blanket over the brazilian forests. "great heavens!" jack sighed. "if we could only have made them hear! i'll bet they've been to paraguay and released lyman. now they're going back home! fine show we now stand of having any fun with them!" "they went west," harry corrected. "that isn't the way home!" "i'd like to know just what success they have had," jack went on. "say," he continued, "can't we do something to attract their attention? why not set fire to some big dry tree and let her blaze up?" "i just can't have it this way!" harry said. "i can't stand it to have them come so close to us and then go away without knowing we are here. we've got to bring them down in some way." "but they've gone!" frank declared, gravely. "if we make a big blaze," jack hastened to say, "the reflection on the clouds will attract their attention, and they'll come back. they won't be able to see the fire itself, of course, but they'll see the reflection, and that will bring them down to investigate. then we'll fire our revolvers and wigwag with blazing sticks until they see who we are." "it may not be the nelson," harry suggested. "i don't believe there's any other aeroplane sailing about the roof of the world," frank replied. "of course it is the nelson!" "perhaps the nelson was followed," harry went on. "i've heard of such things. the chap in that machine may be looking for ned. anyway," he added, "it won't do any harm to let the aviator, whoever he is, know that we are here. come on, let's go ashore and build a big fire." "i certainly would give a year's growth to know whether that is the nelson," harry said, as the boys sought the shore and began gathering dry wood, which, it may be well to add, was not easy to find, as there had been quite a shower during the day. "for all we know," he continued, "there may be another aeroplane here. if the people who are trying for the lyman concession are as active here as they seem to have been in paraguay, they may have half a dozen airships out after the nelson." finally a quantity of wood which was fairly dry was secured, and jack bundled it up against a dead tree which seemed to run straight up into the sky until it touched the clouds. but when the boys came to apply matches they discovered that the wood was not dry enough to be ignited in that way. "i'll get a gallon of gasoline and pour over it," frank explained. "then we can run like blazes when we touch her off. what?" the gasoline was brought, and the blaze started with a mighty concussion of the air. a portion of the highly inflammable fluid had entered a great crevice in the dead tree, with the result that there was an explosion which resounded through the forests for miles. then the flames mounted the tree, which was soon blazing like a great torch. "i guess that will attract their attention!" jack said, shielding his face from the intense heat. "yes," frank replied, "and i'm afraid it will attract the attention of others, too. you know we were told to sneak through this country like little mice!" "it is too late now!" jack said, a shadow of anxiety coming over his face. "we are in for it, i guess. what shall we do?" above the crackling of the flames, above the drawing and sighing of the wind, there now came a strange sound which seemed to proceed from the fire-tinted clouds above. now and then branches of the nearby trees stirred mysteriously, and at times a wild shriek rose above the monotonous chattering. "monkeys!" cried jack. "they've come out to help us bring the airship to earth. good little beasts!" "don't be in too much of a hurry to give the little devils a certificate of good character!" harry answered. "they may make trouble for us." after a time the foolish, wrinkled faces of the monkeys were seen peering from trees. then, above the din they made, above the crackling of the fire, constantly mounting higher, came a scream almost like that of a child. "that's a jaguar!" harry declared, "a south american tiger, and we'd better be getting toward the boat." "the animals won't come near the fire," frank said. "we may as well remain here and see the menagerie." directly it seemed to the excited lads that all the wild animals in south america were assembled about their signal. harry declared that he heard the call of the red wolf, the scream of the tiger cat, the wail of the puma, the vicious snarling of the wild dog. while the boys listened to the chorus their efforts to attract the attention of the aeroplane had produced, there came into the discord another sound--the hissing of a monster serpent. heretofore the boys had little to do with brazilian forms of animal life, for they had kept near the middle of the main stream of the amazon, and also about in the center of the madeira and the much smaller beni, which was only a creek when compared with the other rivers. occasionally they had seen a monster cayman nosing against the current, and at times their progress had been retarded by turtles, but they had never before seen anything like this. their fire had certainly brought out a combination in nature which would have been decidedly interesting if it hadn't been so threatening. "me for the boat!" jack said, with a shiver, as the serpent launched his head and a third of his body from the tree and swept about in widening circles. "i never could endure snakes!" "i'm going to take a shot at it," frank said. "i'd like to see him take a tumble into the fire." "better let him alone," harry advised. frank was about to fire when jack caught his arm and held up his hand in a listening attitude. "what is it?" frank asked. "human voices!" was the quick reply. "inhuman voices, i should say," harry observed, after a second of silence. a chant unlike anything the boys had ever heard before undulated through the forest. it rose and fell with the gusts of wind, and always nearer to the fire. "this is a new one on me!" jack cried. "it is also another reason for getting to the boat! come on, fellows!" "i'm not going to run until i find out what that is," insisted frank. "i'm going to write a newspaper story about this menagerie!" "if you want your story published in this world," jack cried, "you'd better get under cover, for that's the chant of the head hunters!" "wow!" cried frank, and he beat both his chums to the boat. "i guess we've started something!" jack said, as he busied himself putting up the few panels which had been removed when they went ashore. "now, some one push that button, and i'll get the black bear out of this creek. a good old scout like the black bear has no business associating with the wild animals on shore." "right you are!" shouted harry, and the propellers began moving. still, the boat made no progress to the rear, the reverse being on. "what's doing?" demanded jack. "you'd better hurry, for the head hunters are coming right along. see that big chief over there? he's got a club that would level the singer building at a blow!" "i can't make her back," harry complained. "there's something the matter below her in the stream. it was all clear when we came in." in an instant all was intense excitement on board the motor boat. there was only one way in which the savages could reach them, and that was to block their passage out and starve them to death! had this system been resorted to? had the cunning savages obstructed the little stream while the lads were busy building their fire and observing their menagerie, as they called it? these questions were in the minds of all as efforts to back the black bear were redoubled. finally jack opened a panel at the rear and looked out, a thing he should have done at first. what he saw was a large log blocking the channel. the propellers were pounding against it, and one of them was broken. "i guess the little brown men have got us good and plenty," he said, slowly, as he reached forward and shut off the power. "while we were playing about the blaze they plugged the river." "they can't get in here, anyway!" frank consoled. "no; they'll wait for us to get good and hungry and go out!" jack replied. the situation was a serious one. the head hunters now appeared in the open space about the blazing tree and shook their spears and their clubs at the boat. now and then an arrow with a poisoned tip struck the side of the black bear. "they'll never leave until they get us!" jack said, presently, "and so we may as well get a few of them. get your guns, boys." "just you wait, old hard luck prophet," frank exclaimed. "look up through the glass panel above your head and tell me what you see." "well," jack replied, "it looks like we had established communication with the nelson at last. and also with the greatest show on earth!" he added, as a mighty roar went up from the shore. the other boys crowded the panel and looked out. the clouds above were red with the reflection of the blazing tree, yet against the mass a different light blazed out. this light moved about, from north to south and back again, as if searching out the reason for the strange happenings below. the popping of her motors could be plainly heard, and so it was probable that those on the airship could hear the wild animal concert which was going on in the woods. harry pushed a panel aside and fired three quick shots. the aeroplane wavered above the river a moment and then drifted away. "they must know there's somebody down here in trouble!" said harry. "why don't they throw down dynamite? that would give the savages all the heads they wanted for a time, i guess." the boys fired again and again, flashed their lights in wigwag signals, but the aeroplane did not come nearer. instead it whirled swiftly about in a circle for a moment and then shot out of sight beyond the clouds. and every moment the circle of savage faces gathered closer about the black bear, effectively blocked in the narrow stream. chapter viii the vixen takes a tumble while ned, from the driver's seat on the aeroplane he had so cleverly taken from the enemy, watched the distant light flashing over the mountains, the bulk of an airship came into view. while the boy was cheering himself with the hope that he would soon be in touch with jimmie, however, the light disappeared, and the dark body of the machine was no longer visible. "there's been an accident!" collins muttered maliciously, in ned's ear. "that little chap can't run an aeroplane!" "what is there over in that direction?" ned asked, without replying to the other's suggestion of evil. "can one land there?" "not in the night," was the sullen reply. "unless you want to commit suicide and murder me in the bargain, you'd better keep in the air." "what's over there?" repeated ned. "mountains," was the surly reply. ned pointed to a dark stretch below. "that must be a valley," he said. "anyway," he went on, "i'm going down, and if we come to a point where it is jump or go down with the machine, i'll cut you loose, so you'll have the same chance for your worthless life that i do. that's more than you would do for me under the circumstances!" ned guided the vixen to, as near as he could make out, the location of the other airship at the time of her disappearance and dropped down. as he swept toward the earth the peaks of the andes rose above him. down, down, down he dropped, looking out keenly for trees and jagged rocks. at last he saw a level stretch of land just below. the rains had carried sand and ruble down from the mountains and filled a valley perhaps three hundred feet in diameter with the wash of the slopes. this formed what seemed to be a pretty good landing spot, and ned managed to bring the rubber-tired wheels of the airship down without mishap. then, rolling swiftly under the impetus given by the now shut-off motors, the wheels carried the bulk of the ship along for some distance and dropped. ned felt himself falling. thomas q. collins cried out in fright, and tried to kick himself free from the harness, but the leather straps held. when the drop ended there was, a jar and a crash, and the planes lay in a confused heap in the bottom of a depression well stocked as to floor and sides with jagged rocks. in descending, the dragging propellers had loosened some of the rocks, and they, rolling down the declivities after the machine, had fallen upon and crushed the planes. several great boulders thunked near ned's head, and collins set up a great howl as a small stone landed on the back of his neck. although the stars were shining brightly and the moon was abroad, it was quite dark down in the hole into which the vixen had fallen. ned could see slanting walls on all sides, and glimpse, above, the slope of the deceiving level which had first caught the wheels, but that was about all. finding himself uninjured, his first move was to get out his searchlight and make an inspection of thomas q. collins, who was roaring like a wounded bull. "are you hurt?" the boy asked. "hurt!" howled the captive. "my head is broken, and my arms are smashed! what do you mean by tying me up and then wrecking the machine?" ned searched the fellow's clothing, removed a revolver and a dagger, and then snapped off the harness which still held him to the seat. collins stretched himself and lunged at the boy. "keep away!" warned ned. "i'll show you that no bowery kid can double-cross me!" collins screamed, paying no attention to the automatic in ned's hand. "i'll show you!" the next moment ned would have fired, with the intention of wounding the enraged fellow, but a boulder intervened, and collins went down, striking his head on a rock. when the boy bent over he found him to be unconscious. bringing the leather straps of the harness into use again, ned bound the man's hands behind his back, so as to prevent a second attack, and set out to look for water. he had not long to look, for a tiny spring bubbled out of the bottom of the pit and found its way toward the valley below through a crevice in the rock. in a short time collins, under the influence of a right cold bath, sat up and addressed the boy in language which would not have been considered suitable in the presence of a lady. "you've done it now!" the alleged steam pump salesman cried. "you've dumped us into a pit in the heart of the andes, and we'll starve before any one comes to our assistance. take this strap off my wrists, or i'll have your life!" "you're an excitable party," ned laughed. "you want your own way! i've been wondering, while i've been giving you first aid to the indignant, what your name really is, and where you live." "you'd better be trying to ascertain where we are," declared collins, "and what chance we have of getting out alive." "i think i can tell you about where we are," ned replied. "we were in the air not far from five hours. the vixen will run about sixty miles an hour, therefore we are not fax from three hundred miles from lima, in a southeast direction. do you know if we are near any town?" collins sulked a short time and then nodded toward a great peak which rose above all the others in the distance. "that may be vilcanota," he said. "old vilcanota seems to be a whale," ned observed, looking up at the snow cap. "over , feet high," was the sullen rejoinder. "well," the boy went on, "if that really is vilcanota, we are still in the land of the living. in fact, we can't be more than twenty-five miles from a town, and there is a railroad--so my maps say--over to the east. it ends at sicuani, and there the upper branch of the uacayli river begins. this river empties into the amazon at the head of steamboat navigation, the maps say." "you seem to know a lot about this part of south america," gritted collins. "and over to the south," ned went on, "is lake titicaca, and over the mountains from that body of water is coroico, where the beni river starts on its long run to the amazon, by way of the madeira river." "well," snapped collins, drawing hard at the strap which held his wrists, "you can't sit here and figure yourself out of this hole. why don't you do something?" "why, i thought it might be a good plan to wait until dawn," laughed ned. "then i may be able to repair this machine." "repair nothing!" stormed collins. "and in the meantime, i presume you think you are going to keep me tied up like a calf going to market?" "about that way," ned responded, whereat the captive snorted out his rage and rolled over on his face and pretended to be asleep. in a short time dawn shone on the tops of the tallest mountains, and directly it crept slowly down into the pit where the wrecked aeroplane lay. by this time ned had mapped out a course of action. the aeroplane he had seen in the night had descended not far from this spot, and he had decided to climb to some convenient height and look about for it. if he could come upon the nelson, in good sailing condition, there would be no need of repairing the vixen, or trying to do so. collins had counterfeited sleep until, utterly exhausted, he had actually dropped off into slumber, so ned had no captive to watch for the time being. before leaving for a tour of inspection he examined the broken planes and discovered that it would be impossible for him to repair them, at least without the necessary tools and materials. climbing to the level bit of sand, then, he faced the east and began the ascent of a mountain spur which seemed to reach the very heavens. it was a beautiful morning, the air being sharp and clear at that height. ned felt that he could have enjoyed the beauties of nature more fully, however, if he had something in the way of breakfast! he climbed steadily for an hour, and then came to a narrow ledge which seemed to surround one of the lower peaks of the mountain. passing around to the south, he heard a shout, then a fall--a bumping fall which told of a body bouncing from one rocky level to another. he ran around the angle ahead of him and came out on a shelf-like elevation from which a green little valley, half way up the side of the mountain, might be seen. in the center of the valley, carefully blocked against sudden motion, lay the nelson. ned could have danced with delight. the aeroplane appeared to be in perfect condition, but there was no one insight. jimmie and pedro must be about somewhere, the boy thought, as he considered the most practical way of reaching the valley, but where were they? he was about to call out in the hope of arousing one of the aviators to action when he saw a hand waving at him from underneath the gray planes. a more careful inspection of the spot revealed the dirty face of little jimmie, who was lying on his face, an automatic in each hand. pedro was nowhere to be seen. ned watched the signaling hand for an instant and then, in response to what it said to him, scudded around the angle of rock by which he had reached the shelf. as he did so an arrow whizzed past his right ear and blunted against the rocky wall. the situation was not difficult to understand. jimmie had dropped the nelson into the little valley and had there been attacked, either by savages or those interested in the defeat of the boy scout expedition to paraguay, though how the latter could have reached that lonely spot so soon after the landing of the aeroplane was a mystery which the boy could not fathom. following the attack, jimmie had hidden under the planes, and pedro had probably taken to his heels. the situation explained, doubtless, why the boy had not returned with the airship. he had been held there by the enemies, virtually a prisoner. after a short pause, during which ned listened intently for some sound of pursuit, the boy moved cautiously to the shoulder of rock and looked around it to the shelf. there was no one in sight, so he pressed on, and once more came within view of the aeroplane. back of the planes he saw a head lifted from the lip of a gully which cut the valley like a trench. it was not the head of a savage, nor yet the head of a peruvian mountaineer, for it was covered down to the eyebrows by a flat-topped leather automobile cap which was adorned with driving goggles! evidently an american! while ned, himself unseen, watched the cap and the goggles, the wearer lifted himself and looked up over the edge of the gully. he wore a gray suit, tailor-made, from all appearances. back of him three ill-visaged peruvian indians also raised themselves to get a view of what was doing in front. so the savages were led by an american! instead of the automatic of civilized warfare, the enemy was resorting to the poisoned arrow of the barbarian! an american there and in automobile costume! where was the machine, and how in the name of all that was wonderful had it been brought to that rough country? and why were the enemies crouching there, when their only opponent was a boy, hidden if his position may be so termed--under the planes of an airship--planes which would offer little resistance to an arrow or a bullet? but while the boy looked and wondered a shot came from the very shelf on which he stood, and one of the exposed indians dropped in his tracks. then the situation became a bit clearer. pedro had escaped from the valley to the shelf of rock, and was standing guard there shooting whenever the attacking party attempted to reach the aeroplane. in a moment the automobile cap and goggle and the evil faces of the indians disappeared from view. the attacking party had dropped back into the gully, which was some distance from the machine. waiting a moment, in order to make sure that no one was stirring behind the shoulder of rock, ned called softly: "pedro!" "hello!" came the answer back. "'where are you?" asked ned, recognizing the voice of the peruvian he had talked with at lima. "in a notch of the rock," came the answer, in spanish. ned moved along the shelf, and soon came to where pedro stood, sheltered by a jutting ledge. the journey was not accomplished without attracting the attention of the others, for an arrow whizzed past his head as he crept into the angle with pedro. pedro expressed great joy at the arrival of the boy, and explained that the situation as then shown had existed since dawn. on the afternoon of the previous day jimmie, being then about to return to lima, had found it necessary to land in order to repair a slight break in a plane. the driver of the pursuing vixen, noting the temporary disablement, had circled around the valley for a short time and then returned to lima. it was pedro's idea that the vixen would not return with assistance, but with enemies who would destroy the machine, leaving jimmie and himself to find their way out of the mountains as best they could. jimmie, pedro said, had been unable to fix the nelson for flight until about daylight, and then the attacking party had appeared. since then it had been impossible to get the machine into the air, as every motion at the airship brought a bullet or a poisoned arrow. just before ned's arrival, an indian had, by making a long journey around the cliff, gained the shelf of rock where pedro was stationed, and been caught unawares and thrown down into the valley. it was the cry and the fall of this foe that ned had heard. "but," ned said, "the vixen must have summoned some one active in the conspiracy before returning to lima, for the man over there came in an automobile, and did not come very far either. he certainly did not come from lima, which is more than three hundred miles away." "he might have come from sicuani," replied pedro. "that is over to the east, and not more than twenty miles off. i have heard that there is a path by means of which a motor car can reach this place. yes, he must have gone to sicuani, otherwise this man of the motor car would not be here," pedro added. this cleared the situation not a little, and ned was now encouraged to make an attempt to reach the nelson, which pedro declared to be in good condition for flight. if the others had come in an automobile, there could not be many of them. probably not more than six in all, and two had been wounded, or killed. pedro insisted that, with ned guarding him from the shelf, he could reach the machine, but the boy thought it wiser to make the desperate journey himself. even if the indian reached the nelson, the two of them might not be able to get the machine into the air, as jimmie had had little experience in running a plane. so, after explaining to pedro that he would be taken up later, ned began the task of making his way down the almost perpendicular face of the cliff. much to his surprise, there were no hostile demonstrations from the gully in which the attackers had disappeared a short time before. instead of shots and the whiz of arrows, the boy heard, when half way down the slope, the distant whirr of a motor car! "there is some trick in the wind," ned thought. "they would never run away in that manner because of the wounding of two indians and the arrival of one boy from the outside." it was deathly still in the valley where the aeroplane lay. sounds from a distance came with remarkable distinctness, so the popping of the motors of the automobile were plainly heard, and the direction taken by the machine was thus made known. jimmie sprang up, uninjured, as ned advanced and the two grasped hands with more than ordinary feeling. almost the first thing jimmie said was: "i saw the lights of the vixen last night, but thought the other fellows would be in charge of her. how did you manage to geezle her?" "we stole her--and smashed her." ned laughed, telling the remainder of the story in as few words as possible. presently pedro came down from the cliff and went over to the place where the man he had thrown down the declivity had fallen. he found him quite dead. with a solemn shake of the head he laid the body in a sheltered nook and joined the others. it took only a brief examination of the machine to show that she was in as good condition as ever, and ned prepared to mount and leave the valley. then the popping of additional motors broke out on the still air, and jimmie grinned. "i guess you didn't smash the vixen much," he said. "anyway that man in the motor car seems to have repaired her broken wings. probably had the tools to do it with him. they've got some dirty scheme on!" "yes," ned replied, grimly, "or they wouldn't have left the gully. collins will be on deck again in about a minute!" chapter ix a tragedy in the air "then we'd better be gettin' up in the air, so we can see what's going on," jimmie replied. "i'd like to see where the motor car goes." "we can satisfy our curiosity on that point without going up in the air," ned answered. "the vixen was left just over that cliff. there is a valley--a dent in the slope of the mountain--on each side of that elevation, and the vixen and the motor car are in one of them and the nelson in the other." jimmie started away on a run almost before ned had finished speaking. in a few moments he was seen on the shelf, then he darted around the shoulder of rock and was lost to view. the popping of the motors continued. ned hesitated a moment, uncertain as to the advisability of leaving the machine in the sole care of the indian, and then followed. when he gained the shelf on the opposite side he saw the vixen slowly lifting in the air. the automobile stood above her, on the level yet treacherous spot where ned had landed. in it were thomas q. collins and the man he had seen in the automobile cap and goggles! the vixen did not look to be in good repair, just as ned had supposed, for the newcomer had had only a short time to work over her, but for all that she was slowly leaving the narrow pit into which she had tumbled. her motors were working, but did not appear to be doing any lifting. then ned saw that a rope attached to the machine was doing the work. the motor car, moving very slowly forward, was pulling her up the steep acclivity, her rubber-tired wheels drawing and bounding against the rocks. "if they get her up on that level space," jimmie predicted, "they'll get her up in the air. you can see where they've been patching the planes, and the motors are workin' all right." "what i'm interested in, just now," ned said, "is that automobile. i'd like to find the highway through which she entered that valley. it must be through some tunnel, for there's no path over the slopes." "then we'll keep out of sight an' watch," jimmie observed. "see there!" he cried, as the wheels of the vixen struck the level area. "she'll be in the air directly. one of the niggers is gettin' in!" "what's that he's loading on?" asked ned. "stones, as i'm a living boy!" he went on, excitedly. "jump for the nelson, kid, and get her into the air! you see what they are going to do?" it was quite evident what the intentions of the others were. the indians were loading the vixen down with sharp-pointed stones and long wisps of dry grass; out from the nooks of the valley by collins, who had now left the automobile. "we've just got to get the nelson up in the air!" jimmie cried. "they're gettin' ready to drop stones an' blazin' grass down on her planes. we've just got to get there before the vixen sails over her!" stopping no longer to observe the motor car, or watch her course out of the valley, both boys dashed around the shoulder of rock and began working their way down into the place where the nelson lay, with pedro, all unconscious of the approaching danger, sitting in the driver's seat and wondering if he was ever going to eat again! the whirr of the motors in the air soon told the sweating lads that the vixen was rising from the ground. just how they had managed to repair her so quickly was a wonder to ned, but he had no time to consider that side of the case then. "do you see her yet?" panted jimmie, as the two paused a moment on their toilsome way downwards. "not yet," was the reply, and ned almost dropped a dozen feet and caught on the point of a rock which jutted out from the wall. "gee!" cried jimmie. "that was a tumble! got a good hold, there? then catch me!" before ned could remonstrate the reckless little fellow had dropped. the impact of his body forced ned from the crevice in which he clung, and together they rolled down a score of feet, bringing up in an angle from which a fall would have been fatal. ned came out of the tumble unharmed, but jimmie lay like a rag in his arms as he straightened out and looked upward. the vixen was rising over the cliff! ned drew his automatic and fired three quick shots in the air, but the aeroplane sailed on, apparently unharmed. in a moment she was directly above the nelson, and pedro was fleeing for his life. standing there helpless, with the unconscious boy in his arms, ned saw the driver of the vixen rain great stones down on the frail planes of the nelson. then a puff of smoke came from the driver's seat, and ned saw that the wisps of straw were being ignited to finish the work begun by the rocks. he fired volley after volley at the man who was doing the mischief, but he was so unnerved and excited that his bullets went wild. the crash of stones on the breaking planes sounded louder to him than did the explosions of his own revolver. in a moment a blazing wisp of dry grass, or straw, dropped from the vixen and sifted through the still air, the individual pieces of the bundle falling apart. some of the little swirls of flame died out as the material passed downward, but others held, and dropped on the wounded planes! ned shouted to pedro, ordering him to smother else incipient blaze with his coat, or anything the he could find, but the peruvian was nowhere to be seen. terrified at the movements of the aeroplane, he had hidden in the rocks. again and again the man on the vixen lighted wisps of dry grass and hurled them down. directly the planes were in a blaze. ned laid jimmie down on a narrow ledge and finished emptying his revolver, but to no purpose. he had never done such bad shooting in his life. but fate was abroad in the andes that morning! presently the driver of the vixen dropped his last wisp and shot upward, apparently not caring to engage in combat with the boy who had used him for a target so unsuccessfully. as the aeroplane passed across the top of the valley, ned saw a little tongue of flame on the under plane. the driver evidently did not understand his peril, for he mounted higher and drove straight to the north. ned watched the finger of flame grow as it bit into the fine fabric of the plane with something like awe in his heart. if the driver did not see his danger instantly and hasten down, nothing could save him. while the boy watched, almost breathlessly, jimmie stirred and opened his eyes. he had a bad cut on his forehead, but otherwise seemed to have suffered little from his terrible fall. "gee!" he cried, looking up at ned with a grin. "i guess i took a drop too much!" ned did not answer. he was too busy watching the tragedy which was taking place in the air. jimmie followed the direction of his eyes and caught his breath with a gasp of horror. "he'll burn up!" he cried. both planes were now on fire, and the driver knew of his peril. it seemed to ned that the fellow's clothes were on fire, too, for he writhed and twisted about as he turned the aeroplane downward. "he'll get his'n!" jimmie declared. the vixen came down almost like a shot, leaving a trail of flame and smoke behind her. then the end came. the charred planes gave way and the frame dropped, carrying the driver with it. they whirled over and over in the air as they came down. the fall must have been fully five hundred feet, and ned knew that it would be useless for him to seek the man who had worked so much mischief to the nelson with a view of doing him any service. below, the nelson was sending up sheets of flame. pedro now ran out of his hiding place and attempted to check the fire, but his efforts availed nothing. "it is gone, all right!" jimmie said, with a sigh. "now, how are we goin' to get out of here? that's what i'd like to know." "we'll have to get out the same way the others do," ned replied. "they have lost their aeroplane too." "yes," agreed the little fellow, "but they have a motor car, and we've only our shanks' horses!" ned extinguished the burning woodwork on the nelson and made a hasty estimate of the damage done. "the motors are not injured," he reported. "if we can get something that will do for planes, we can get her out." "then," said jimmie, "i reckon it's me for the highway! i'll chase that automobile into where it came from. i'll bet i'll find cloth of some kind there." "it might be better to send pedro," said ned. "all right!" the little fellow agreed. "then you and i can sleuth about this rotten country in search of gold! they say there's gold in these hills!" the purr of the motor car's engines now came again, and pedro hastened up the ledge and followed down into the valley where she lay. in a moment she was out of sight, and the peruvian was moving toward a rift in the wall of rock to the east. but ned, watching from above, saw that there was only one person in the car. mr. thomas q. collins had been left behind! "that's strange!" ned mused. "why should he remain here? what further mischief has the fellow in mind?" when ned returned to the machine he found jimmie busy polishing the scorched steel work. "all she needs is new planes!" the lad cried. "jimmie," ned asked, "when you came here yesterday, did the vixen follow you closely, or did she stand off and on, as seamen say, and take note of your course indifferently? what i want to know is this: did the driver seem anyway excited when you speeded over this way? "he followed tight to my heels," replied the little fellow. "then, when he saw me land, he whirled about and went away." an idea which seemed almost too good to be true was slowly forming in ned's brain. why had the vixen always followed the nelson? why had she spied upon her without in any way interfering? again, why had thomas q. collins been left there in the wilderness? surely there were no accommodations in sight in those valleys--nothing to subsist on, no shelter from the weather. he might, it is true, have remained out of a spirit of revenge, hoping to punish ned for his treatment of him, but this explanation did not appeal to the boy. with the nelson hopelessly out of repair, he could well afford to leave the lads to their fate, as the chances that they would be able to get out alive--being strangers to that country and, supposedly, to mountain work--were about one to ten. and so, ned reasoned, there must be some other incentive for the action taken by collins. he had a subconscious impression that he knew what that incentive was, but hardly dared to whisper it to himself. the boy's reverie was interrupted by jimmie, who had been running back and forth in the valley in quest of wild berries, or something which would serve as food. "i could eat a whale!" the little fellow shouted. "catch a hare and cook him," ned suggested. "the hares here are not exactly like our rabbits, but they are good to eat. if you go over into the little jungle below, at the end of this bowl, you might find one." ned, still wondering if what he hoped might be true, turned to the cliff which separated the two valleys and began a careful inspection of the rock formation. away around to the east, under the shelf which ran like a terrace around the elevation, he came upon what he was looking for. the shelf extended outward from the face of the rock, and under it, setting back into the cliff perhaps a dozen feet, was a cavern which looked out on the valley where the nelson lay, but from which the machine itself was not in sight. the floor of the cavern showed traces of human habitation. it had undoubtedly been occupied as a shelter from storms by mountaineers for centuries. but the evidences of occupation which ned saw were not those showing distant use. there was a tiny fire burning in a crevice which served as a chimney, carrying the smoke far up into the sky before discharging it. scattered about the fire were tin cans, some empty, some containing food of various kinds. thrown over a heap of broken boxes in a corner was a coat--a tailor-made coat of fine material. on a little ledge at the rear were a safety razor, a small mirror, and a shaving mug. ned picked up the coat and thrust a hand into an inside pocket. that, he thought, would be an easy way to ascertain the identity of the owner. in a moment he drew forth a folded paper, covered with figures in pencil. the figures were in columns, as if the maker had been setting down items of expense and adding them up. the total was in the millions. the calculations of a cattleman, covering shipments and receipts! ned continued his search of the coat and presently came upon a packet of letters, all enclosed in envelopes and neatly ticketed on the back. they were enclosed in a rubber band, and showed careful handling. and the envelopes, every one of them, were addressed to dr. horace m. lyman, asuncion, paraguay! chapter x dinner is served ned stepped to the mouth of the cavern and looked out. jimmie was making his way back to the machine, empty handed and evidently dejected. ned gave a sharp whistle and beckoned to the lad when he looked up. he did not care to make any unnecessary noise there, for he believed that collins was not far away. he was now half convinced that lyman had been secreted in that vicinity after being abducted from paraguay; that he had been closely guarded and comfortably provided for, the idea being to keep him out of paraguay until his concession reverted to the government. it was his notion, too, that lyman had inhabited this cavern until the appearance of the nelson, when he had been removed by his attendants and placed in custody in some other natural hiding place. whether he was still in that locality the boy could not say, but of one thing he was certain. that was that lyman had not been taken away in the motor car. and so the quest had been shifted! there would now be no need of proceeding to asuncion. probably to prevent getting mixed up in the crooked game, the plotters in paraguay had ordered those interested in the disappearance of lyman to get him out of the alleged republic. this would account for his being in the mountains of peru. it might also account for the presence in lima of the vixen and mr. thomas q. collins. the telegrams without meaning which ned had received on his arrival at lima pointed out the fact that the conspirators knew that the nelson was heading for that city as a base of operations. ned's receipting for the telegrams was proof positive that he had arrived. "a very pretty plot!" ned thought, as he waited for jimmie to make his way up the face of the cliff to the mouth of the cavern. "gee!" the little fellow cried, as his head showed above the level of the floor of the hiding place. "i never was so hungry in me blameless life!" ned backed up so as to conceal the tinned food. "what will you give for a couple of tins of pork and beans?" he asked, with a provoking smile. "i'll sign a check for any amount!" grinned the boy. ned stepped aside, disclosing the food, and handed jimmie a small hatchet which he had found under the rubbish. "go to it!" he said. jimmie almost dropped with amazement. it was like getting water out of the desert. like finding milk in the heart of a rock. like uncovering snowballs from a bed of hot coals! american tinned goods in the mountains of peru! the boy examined the cans attentively. they were all correct on the outside. then he cut one open with the hatchet and brought out a spoonful of beans on the corner of the implement. "wow!" he cried, in a moment. "they're all right! come on an' fill up!" both boys fell to, and the supply of tinned food was considerably diminished before they had finished their breakfast. then, fearful that the owners of the food might seek to remove it before another meal time came, they carried a considerable portion of the cans away and hid them in a small cache near the nelson. "we won't starve for a few days," jimmie said, when this work had been finished. "now, tell me what it all means. i wanted to ask you before, but, somehow, i couldn't keep my mouth empty long enough to talk. what about it?" "i think," ned replied, "that we have blundered on the country residence of mr. horace m. lyman!" "what does he come up here for?" asked the little fellow. "ain't he got no sense?" "the decision wasn't up to him, i take it," laughed ned. "the schemers in that crooked little country wanted to get him out of the way, so they wouldn't be getting into a quarrel with the little old u. s. a." "i don't see him anywhere around," the other said. "he doesn't seem to be on exhibition, and that's a fact," ned replied. "perhaps," jimmie grinned, "we'd better look up this thomas q. collins! i guess, he could lead us to him." "no doubt of that," ned admitted. having securely hidden the tinned food, the boys still lingered in the vicinity of the nelson. the machine lay shining in the sunlight, seeming to look reproachfully up at the boys, accusing them of getting her into a very bad predicament. "good old girl!" jimmie cried, stroking the motors. "we'll get you out of this mix-up, all right!" "if we do," ned replied, studying the ground about the machine, "we'll have to get cover somewhere and watch her night and day." he pointed to footprints close up to the motors as he spoke, and jimmie began measuring the impressions in the soft earth. "they've been here since we landed, all right," the boy exclaimed, in a minute. "we never left these tracks. they're big enough for an elephant to make!" "they were made by muckers," ned continued. "you know the kind of shoes the men who work in mines wear? big ones, looking more like a mud scow than a shoe. they have turned some of the copper workers loose on us, little man." "gee! how long will it take pedro to get back?" "probably three days, if he has no bad luck--if they let him come back at all," ned answered. "you can take it from me that they won't let him come back at all if they have anything to say about it!" the lad muttered. "i reckon i'll have to go an' find him." "i think it will take both of us to prevent the nelson being broken up," was ned's reply. "we shall, as i have already said, have to guard it night and day. and, besides, we've got to keep out of the way of bullets and poisoned arrows." "this is a cute little excursion, when you look at it up one side and down the other," jimmie grunted. "we've left leroy in trouble at lima, and we've got the nelson all banged up. perhaps they'll hang leroy before we get back!" "cheer up!" laughed ned. "the worst is yet to come!" "and here it comes!" cried the little fellow, as a handkerchief which might once have been white fluttered above a boulder not far away, held aloft and waved frantically back and forth by a hand which could only faintly be seen. "come on out!" ned shouted. a figure lifted from behind the rock and stood straight up, waving a dilapidated slouch hat, now, instead of a handkerchief. the fellow wore a suit of clothes which was much too small for him, so that his wrists and ankles protruded a good six inches. the clothes were dirty and ragged too, and the man's face looked as if it had been a long time since it had been brought into contact with water. at a motion from ned he advanced toward the machine. ned thought he had never seen a sadder face on a human being. "looks like calamity!" jimmie muttered "have you boys got anything to eat?" asked the stranger, rubbing his palms over the waist band of his ill-fitting trousers. "you look like you needed something to eat!" jimmie put in. "how long you been sleuthin' at us from that rock?" "not long," was the reply, in a slow, sober tone. "just a minute. i fell down a mountain not so very long ago." "then," said jimmie, pointing to the wound on his head, "you haven't got anything on me. i'm quite a hand at fallin' down precipices, myself!" "you didn't say if you had anything to eat," insisted the stranger. "i'm so hungry that i could eat a fried griddle." "well," replied ned, "we're just out of fried griddles, but we've got a tin of beans we might give you." "slave for life if you do!" drawled the other. "i've been wandering in the mountains for more than a week, and am so empty that it will require several tins to fill me up, but if one is the limit, why--" jimmie uncovered the cache and brought out a can of beans, which he opened with the hatchet and presented to the other, with a grave bow. "dinner is served, me lud!" he said. the stranger did not wait for formalities. he had no knife, fork, or spoon, but he managed to remove the beans from the can and convey them to his mouth without the aid of such artificial aids to the hungry. he sighed when the can was empty, and wiped his hands on the grass at his feet. "how did you get in here?" asked ned, then, curious to know how any one could have the nerve to face a mountain journey in the condition this man was in. "i came after the mother lode," was the reply. "have you got it in your pocket?" asked the little fellow. "i didn't say i found it," was the grave reply. "i said i came in here looking for it. there was a party left sicuani, over to the east, two weeks ago, and i trailed in behind. you see, i had a fool idea that these people were on the track of a big gold find, and so just naturally sneaked along. they had an automobile. i walked. they had plenty of provisions. i had no one to grub-stake me. they feasted while i starved, but the way is rough and slow, especially when tires break, and i managed to keep up with them until two days ago. then they got away from me." "did you find gold?" asked ned. the stranger shook his head. "nothing doing!" he said. "i've been grubstaked all over australia, and up the yukon, and over death valley, but i have never found a spot where there's so little gold as there is in these hills." "so, you are an american tourist?" asked ned. "i am," was the grave reply. "i stowed away on a ship bound for asuncion and got a job shoveling coal to pay for the rottenest grub i ever ate. when we got up the river to asuncion i hired out to a man to herd cattle. that was worse, only the air was not so confining." "so you left and went to sicuani?" asked ned. "exactly, after many days. i liked the cattle business all right, but i had to move on. horace m. lyman is a good chap to--" "wait!" ned said. "it was horace m. lyman you worked for, eh?" "sure. he's an american, and a fine fellow." "well," jimmie cut in, "you're likely to see him if you stick around here. they geezled him, so another gazabo could get his concession." "and marooned him off here? is that it?" asked the stranger. "well, there's a pair of us, then, that don't find anything nourishing in the scenery. where is he?" "we haven't found him yet," ned answered, "but we're on the trail. if you had one more can of beans, do you think you could help us hunt him up?" "certainly. of course. i'll do that without the beans, but--" "i see," ned answered. "you haven't the strength, just now, to do much looking. all right, we'll fat you up, and then--" ned did not complete the sentence, for a long, wavering call came from the west, and the stranger started off in that direction without a word of explanation. ned wondered for a moment whether this fellow wasn't another hypocrite of the collins stripe. "wait a minute!" he exclaimed. "suppose you tell us something about that call?" "i'm agreeable," replied the other. "don't you know what that coo-coo-ee-ee is? then you've never lived in the cattle country. that is a cowboy salute, pard, and my private opinion is that horace m. lyman is the party that uttered it." "then he's not far away," jimmie said. "suppose i answer him?" asked the stranger. "go on an' do it," the little fellow advised, and ned nodded. the cod-coo-ee-ee which the ex-cowboy emitted rang through the valley and came back in weird echoes from the crags around. "now he knows there's some one here looking after him," the stranger explained. "he knows that old mose jackson is right on the job. what might your name be, pard?" he added, turning to ned. "nestor," was the reply. "ned nestor, of course!" jackson exclaimed. "i read about you being in mexico, and in the canal zone. strange i should bump into you away off here! and i'll bet this is jimmie? what?" "the same!" the little fellow replied. "ned can't lose me!" hardly had the words left the boy's mouth when a bullet came zipping through the air. it struck a metal section of the nelson and flattened out. "before now," jackson said, coolly, "when i've found myself on the open plain with redskins popping away at me i've dug a hole in the ground and stowed myself away in it. what do you think of the notion, pard?" "it looks good to me!" jimmie cried. "but," he went on, "we've got nothing to dig with, so we'll just have to move back to that gully, an' take the grub with us." the change was soon made, the nelson being run back to the edge of the trench-like depression, and then the three awaited the next move on the part of the enemy. presently a shout was heard, and then the flashily-dressed figure of mr. thomas q. collins appeared on the shelf of rock. "don't shoot!" he cried, swinging both hands aloft. "i want to come down and talk with you." "there's some trick in that!" jimmie said. chapter xi a stick of dynamite "if we could only get out of this cul-de-sac," jack said, as the savages gathered closer about the black bear, "and make the beni river, we could leave them behind like they were painted on the trees." "there ought to be some way," frank mused. harry, who had been rummaging in a trunk of clothing and tools which stood under the bridge which half concealed the motors, now came forward with a package in his hand. "what is it?" asked jack. "dynamite!" was the cool reply. "that ought to induce them to go on about their business--if properly administered," jack said. "i didn't know we had any on board." "i didn't know what we might come across up here," harry replied. "shall we light a fuse and give one of these persuaders a toss over into that mess?" "it would amount to wholesale murder," frank replied. harry's face hardened as he held up a hand for silence. the howling on the banks of the little stream was now almost deafening, and every second there came the thunk of arrows against the boat. "you see what they would do to us," he said. "yes, i know," jack said, "but we are supposed to be civilized! it would be a wicked thing to do, to murder fifty or a hundred of those savages. suppose we toss a stick where it will do little damage and still attract their attention from the boat? then we might get that log out of the way." "we'll see what show we have for getting it out of the way-the log, i mean," jack replied. he cautiously opened one of the lower panels at the rear and looked out. the log which blocked the narrow channel was afloat, for it was the trunk of a dry tree, and the water was deep. what held it in place was the end which lay on the shore. it had been rolled in at a point where the bank was low, and at least two-thirds of it lay on the ground. "i'd like to know how they got it in there!" jack said. "it looks too big for a hundred men to handle." "anyway, there it is," frank replied, "and there the propellers are--one of them broken. can we make speed with that busted wing?" "we've got to," harry said. "just hear the devils! they will rush the boat in about a minute!" the cries coming from the forest were now blood-curdling in their ferocity. the cannibals were evidently working themselves into a pitch of excitement which would give them courage to charge the black bear. now and then the frightened howl of some wild beast was heard in the distance, adding not a little to the excitement of the scene. the tree which had been set on fire to attract the attention of the airship still blazed, sending a twist of flame far up into the sky. in the glare of the fire the savages looked like fiends ready for any act of deviltry. now and then three figures larger than the rest stood together as if in conference, and then the shouts grew louder, and the line about the boat closer drawn. "i've got a notion that we can make pretty good speed with that broken wing," jack mused. "anyway, we can drift down stream if we can't steam up stream, and that will take us out of this mess." "then let's blow that log up with dynamite," suggested frank. "yes," said jack, "and finish the propellers!" "blow up the shore end," continued frank. "who can pitch it so that it will knock that blooming dry wood into the stream?" "i'm willing to try," harry said. "i used to pitch a tricky ball! i'll get a fuse ready, open a panel, and give it a throw. while i have the panel open, though, you fellows open up a loophole in front and do some shooting out of it to attract attention. i don't want any poisoned arrows biting me." this was agreed to, and harry arranged a fuse and prepared to throw it. when jack opened a panel in front and sent a volley of bullets ashore, the boy pushed open a panel in the rear and, waiting until the attention of the savages was attracted to the front of the boat, tossed out the dynamite. it hurled through the air, flashing in the red light of the fire, and landed at the very end of the fallen tree, rolling into the angle between the wood and the earth. a fine throw! harry yelled to jack to close his panel, and all three boys stood on the tips of their toes, fingers in ears. in a moment the explosion came. the black bear rocked violently, so that it was with difficulty the boys kept their footing. wild cries of distress and fright came from the forest, and, in a few seconds, the crash of falling trees. the dynamite had done its work well, at least, so far as noise was concerned. they could not yet see what effect the explosion had had on the tree. had it loosened the obstructing log so that the boat could pass out into the beni river? had the concussion damaged the propellers so that the trip up the valley of the amazon would have to be abandoned? these questions were in the minds of all three boys as jack cautiously opened a rear panel and looked out. the first thing he saw was the log, splintered and broken into half a dozen pieces, floating down stream. the explosion had whirled the great trunk high up in the air and brought it down, broken, in the channel of the stream. there seemed nothing to do now but to set the motors at work and run out of the dangerous position. but the motors refused to work. something more than showed on the surface was the matter with them. harry looked out at the rear and saw a great red patch of earth without a single human being in sight. the fire was still burning brightly, but there were no savages dancing about in its fierce light. at the sound of the explosion the head hunters had taken to their heels. at first view, no one seemed to have been injured by the dynamite, but, on giving the scene a closer inspection, the boy saw three bodies lying near where the log had been. they might be dead or only stunned; the lad had no means of knowing. while harry watched for some sign of life, the roar of a wild animal came from the forest, and he knew that a tiger cat was approaching. the humans--if the man-eating savages may be so termed--were still running, it appeared, while the wild beasts of prey were returning to the scene of the explosion. "come," harry cried, "we must get out of this now if we can get the propellers to working. there is no one in sight, only three men lying near where the log lay, and there are man-eating animals coming, so i'd rather not see what takes place next." jack threw open another panel and stepped out. the roar in the forest was growing again, but no savage was in sight. he moved to the back of the boat and bent down to look at the propellers. "i can't see from here!" he shouted, in a moment. "look out for me, you fellows!" like a shot he was in the river, diving under the stem of the black bear. harry and frank, knowing the rivers of that district to be swarming with caymen, grouped at the rear and watched with anxious eyes for the reappearance of their chum. in a few seconds jack's face appeared above the surface of the water. he seized a rope passed to him and climbed on board, shaking the water from his clothing like a great dog. "it is all right," he said, as soon as he could get his breath. "there was a piece of the log wedged in back of the paddles and i got it out. get a pole and push. she's in the mud, i guess." the pole was used before the motors were turned on again, and the black bear was soon out of the little creek, sailing slowly down the beni. however, the boat did not behave well, and it was decided to tie up for a day and go over her carefully. the propellers needed fixing, and there might be some other injury which had not been discovered. not caring to strain the weakened propellers, they permitted the boat to drift down stream. when a mile away the illumination of the fire which had been so injudiciously set could still be seen distinctly, and when the boys listened they could hear the cries of the savages and the fierce howls of the wild beasts. during the day the boys had passed a level plateau on the east bank of the river, and it was decided to float down to that, as they could beach the black bear there and work without danger of being attacked from the shelter of a forest. they gained the spot about midnight and anchored some distance out, resolved to take no chances on the shore that night. the stream was quite wide, and they opened the top panels so as to get what fresh air they could. jack was the first one to see the airship hovering over them. "look!" he cried. "look! look! we've just got to attract their attention in some way! see! they are going away again! confound the luck!" the airship seemed about to dip down, then it floated off to the west and whirled to the south. "they're signaling!" harry cried. this seemed to be true, for there were lights moving about in the air in queer combinations. "get a glass!" shouted jack, in great excitement. "we'll soon see about this!" but the airship seemed interested in the spot where the fire was burning, and did not remain overhead long enough for the boys to get a good view of her. at last she disappeared entirely. although anchored out in the stream, which was at least two hundred feet wide at that point, the lads kept a close watch of the shores that night. once, just before dawn, they caught the sound of paddles, but the canoe which appeared on the west soon sneaked away. the hubbub on shore kept up all night long. the beasts took up the chorus when the savage tribesmen retreated. "beautiful country this!" jack said, as the sun rose over the great valley. "i think i'll like to live here always--not!" "yes," grunted frank, whose eyes were heavy with the long watch, "even on the great white way, the enthusiasm quiets down after three o'clock." "it is all in the game!" grinned harry. "we came out here for excitement, and you mustn't complain when you get it." after breakfast, which was keenly enjoyed, the black bear was beached on the cast banks and the injury to the propellers examined. some of the blades were broken while others were strained. "well," harry said, as he scratched his head in deliberation, "we've got extra blades, and we've got the tools, and i don't know as we're in a hurry anyway. we've got all the time there is!" "not if we catch the nelson before it gets out of the country," jack objected. "this is the d of august, and the nelson must have sighted lima about the th, so you see we've got to do some sailing if we get to the headwaters of the beni before the boys get back home." if they had only known, the lads might not have been so anxious to get on, for the boys with the nelson were having troubles of their own about that time. besides, there were difficulties ahead much greater than those entailed by the breaking of the blades of the propellers. they worked all day at repairing the injuries, and at night were ready to proceed. it was dark again, and there seemed to be a great commotion on shore. "for one," frank observed, "i don't like the idea of going on up an unknown river in the night. there are rapids, and there may be obstructions. and then we may follow off some tributary which will land us in some swamp after an all night ride." "i'm not anxious to go on tonight," harry contributed, "for i'd like to see what that mess on shore will amount to. there's something besides the appearance of the black bear exciting those fuzzy little natives, and we may miss something if we run away. i wouldn't like to do that." so it was decided to remain where they were until morning. the panels were put up, leaving only the openings for ventilation, and the wolf was brought close alongside. frank got the first watch in the drawing of sticks, and stationed himself at the prow, where he could look out on the river. jack and harry were soon asleep. about midnight a great clamor arose on the west bank. in a moment it was echoed from the opposite shore. there was a beating of drums--the foolish drums which the natives made so crudely--and long chants, rising in the darkness like the monotonous melodies the boys had heard in the cotton fields of the south. frank shook jack and harry out of their bunks, much to the disgust of the two sleepy-heads. they did not need to ask questions as to the reason for this, for the chant was coming nearer, and the drums were beating like mad. "they're arranging an attack!" jack said, turning a searchlight out of the front loophole. "i can see half a dozen canoes hanging off and on at a bend above. i guess we made a mistake in stopping here." "perhaps we'd better drop down the river," harry suggested. "i don't want those heathens swarming over the black bear." jack went to the stern and looked out on the swirling river from that point. "if we do," he said, in a moment, "we'll bunt into a fleet of war canoes. we've got to put on all speed and drive ahead." "why not drop back?" asked harry. "because," was the reply, "we can go up stream about as fast as we can go down stream, and the canoes can't. we'll shut everything tight but the loopholes and go through them like a shot through paper. if they board us we'll have to open up and drop them into the river with our automatics." "put the big light out in front then," harry said, "and stand there and tell me which way to steer, and let her go!" the next moment the black bear, closely followed by the wolf, was nearing the canoes, now drawn up in line of battle in front. chapter xii a bribe of half a million "what do you want to talk about?" asked ned, as thomas q. collins advanced a step, both hands still high above his head, as an indication that he was unarmed. "i want to reach an understanding with you," was the reply. "about what?" "about--well, about your errand here." "oh! well, what about it?" collins hesitated a moment and then asked: "why can't i come to you and sit down? i'm not armed. this is not an easy or a dignified position for me to hold." "you say you are not armed," ned replied. "will you say as much for the savages who are with you in this dirty game?" "there are no savages here with me," collins protested. "your indian killed one by throwing him from the ledge, one was killed when the vixen burned and dropped, and one was shot by one of your boys. the other went away with the motor car. you must have seen them riding away?" "there were five people with him when he first came out here in the car," jackson said, under his breath. "ask him where the other white man now is." "did you see the other white man?" asked ned of jackson. "not distinctly." "would you have recognized him if it had been lyman?" "i might. i can't say. i wasn't very near to them. they kept me scouting over the hills to keep them in sight." "well," collins called out, impatiently, "are you going to let me come in for a talk? if not, i'll go back and bring some shooters out here." without answering that special question, veiled, as it was, with a threat, ned asked the one proposed by jackson. "where is the white man who was with you when you first came here in the car?" "i did not come in a motor car," was the reply. "i came in the vixen." "that's a lie!" jackson whispered. "the vixen, if that is what they call their airship, never showed up until a few days ago. i tried to signal to the driver; or, rather, i did signal to him, but he ignored me. this man collins came in with the car more than two weeks ago, and went out in it, too, and the other white man remained. the next time he came, he was in the vixen." "who is that fellow who is filling you with prejudice against me?" demanded collins, presently. "it looks like a man wanted for stealing cattle from the lyman ranch." "why didn't you communicate with him, if you were so hungry?" asked ned of jackson, suspiciously. "you say he has been here at least twice." jackson frowned and looked away. then his forehead flushed and he said: "i guess there's no use lying about it. i was accused of running cattle off the lyman range. that is the man who accused me. i never did. he knows that. now you know why i didn't approach him and ask for food." "well," insisted the boy, "why didn't you browse around and find the white man he left here? that is what he came in here for, isn't it--to hide some one he wanted out of the way?" "i thought he came to look for gold," was the reply. "now, about the other question. i did try to find the man he left here. i wanted to eat with him! i knew there was some one in the hills, but i never found him. it beats the old scratch where he is!" "come, come!" collins cried, impatiently, "you can do your visiting after we have our talk. shall i come to you, or will you come to me?" "don't you go out there!" jimmie warned. "he's got some one hidden. you'll be shot if you do. tell him to come here." "keep your hands up and come here," ned ordered, thinking this good advice. he had already experienced the treachery of the fellow, and did not care to take any chances. collins came along sullenly, stood stock still, while jimmie searched him, and then sat down on the framework of the nelson. "that aeroplane would look handsomer," ned said, grimly, "if your men had not set it on fire." "that was war!" collins replied. "it is war still, unless we can come to some kind of agreement." "i haven't much faith in your word," ned replied. "you played a dirty game on me at lima, you know." "the chances of war!" collins replied. "now," he went on, "we can come to terms without any reference to the international peace congress, if we want to. i'll admit that if things were a little different i wouldn't be asking for terms, but that is neither here nor there. i want your assistance." "on the level?" demanded jimmie. jackson grinned scornfully, and collins glared at both. "the man we brought out here--merely as a matter of business--has disappeared," collins went on. "we left him in the little cavern where you found his coat and the food. he's got away." "you refer to lyman?" "of course." "you were keeping him a prisoner until his concession should lapse?" "that's only business." "when does it lapse, in case he does not appear and make payment?" "on the st of august." "and this is the th?" "i think so. i'm pretty well mixed as to time, as well as everything else." "then he has only fourteen days in which to get back to asuncion and make a large payment?" "that is just it." "and he is lost?" "yes." "when did you see him last?" "you remember how i came to be here? you brought me, trussed up like a hen in that aeroplane harness. well, when the vixen went into that pit and you went away to look over the scenery, i knew that the motor car would be along soon, so i didn't try to get away. i knew what would happen if i did. you'd shoot! just as soon as the car came and i was released--the car brought in food for lyman--i sent a man over to the cave to find lyman. he wasn't there. understand? he wasn't there." "but there were live embers in the cave when i got there," ned said. "i know. that was built by one of my men, who wanted to make coffee, but didn't. the food you stole was brought in by the car as i said before. you found lyman's coat, didn't you?" "yes, and a packet of letters." "i knew what you were in lima for from the first. i knew of your mission before you left san francisco. so i did not lie to you when you asked if the man who was brought in, something over two weeks ago, in a motor car was lyman. i knew that you knew. you see, we had to get him out of paraguay when it was learned that the united states had placed the lyman affair in the hands of the secret service." "go on," ned said. "you are getting pretty close to the point now." "i thought at first," collins went on, "that you had blundered into this district just by blind luck. now i know better. i gave myself away by my fool antics at lima. then the vixen showing up and chasing the nelson around increased your suspicions. oh, i know how it happened. you fooled us all. we led you right to the spot where lyman was hidden by our attempts to mislead you. more fools we!" "you have stated the case correctly," ned said. "if you had kept away from me at lima, and the vixen had kept out of sight, i should have gone straight on to asuncion, and should have been wasting my time there this minute." "yes, that's the truth! well, now i've been perfectly frank with you, and i want you to be equally honest with me. do you know where lyman is?" "i do not." "you haven't seen him?" "never saw him." "if you find him, what do you propose doing?" "i shall take him back to asuncion and see that he gets justice." "acting as a secret service man of the united states?" "no, as an individual." "but you are in the employ of the government?" "yes, but i'm not authorized to mix the two countries up in a war." "yes, i know, but your government will back you in whatever you do. that is the point with me. if you report no cause for interference down in paraguay, there will be no danger of our getting into trouble. your government wouldn't make a demand for lyman's release, although it was understood he was kept in duress by a high official of the republic. still, it sends you out to act unofficially. now, this being the case, you are the person i want to talk with." "well?" "i want you to help find lyman, and then i want you to help me come to terms with him--we can't fight the united states!" "in other words, you want me to betray my trust and help you rob him?" "no. there are two sides to everything--where there are not three, or more. so there are two sides to this cattle concession business. i think that lyman will be glad to settle if we find him--if he does not know that the united states has secret service men on the ground!" "so you really do want to buy my silence?" "i want to make sure that you will not attempt to defeat our plans." "nothing doing," ned replied. "wait!" collins continued. "you haven't heard me out. we'll see that lyman gets all his money out of the deal, with something besides, and also that you get a quarter of a million dollars for saying nothing." "nothing doing!" ned repeated. collins actually gasped with amazement. he had offered bribes before, but had never started out with so large a sum. and he had never been denied! "understand the proposition," collins said, presently, as soon as he could catch his breath, "it is not you we want. we don't care a continental cuss for you. what we want is for you to keep quiet after we find lyman. it is the secret service of the united states we axe afraid of. i'll make it half a million." "it must be a rich concession," ned said. "it is, and lyman got it for a song, for no one ever supposed that swamp would make good grazing ground." "i guess mr. lyman will earn all he gets out of it," ned laughed. "he will never get anything out of it, unless he comes to terms with me," collins said, impatiently. "we'll find some way to keep him out of asuncion until after the st. it is a long way from here to paraguay!" "all the more reason why we should get busy looking for him," ned said. "and when we find him?" asked collins, tentatively. "i shall take him back to asuncion." "then you'd better not find him," threatened collins. "if you're going to oppose me, i'll leave it to you to look him up. i'll go back to asuncion and bring men out here who will see that you never leave the mountains." "gee! that's a cheerful proposition!" grinned jimmie. collins, disgusted at his failure to either bribe or frighten the boys, started away, but jackson laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and swung him around. "wait a minute!" he said. "what do you mean?" demanded collins. "you're not going to asuncion after help," jackson said. "i have a little score to settle with you myself! you're the man who accused me of running off cattle. well, you're going to remain right here with me until i go out with you and give you a chance to make that right." collins glanced at ned. "is this by your order?" he asked. ned shook his head. "i have no present quarrel with you," he said. collins started away again, but jackson thrust him back, not any too gently. "if you make a touse," he said, "i'll tie you up. now," he added, as collins, almost foaming with rage, threw himself on the ground, "i want you to tell me where you left that tent." both ned and jimmie sprang to their feet at the mention of the word. "a tent! here!" collins snarled out some impertinent reply, and ned asked: "did they bring in a tent?" "you bet they did!" jackson answered. "this fine-haired duck with the circus parade clothes wasn't going to sleep in no cavern. he was going to have a nice, soft, cool bed under a tent while he was waiting for the lyman concession to lapse. he was reared a pet--he was!" the ex-cowboy was so enraged at collins for the insinuations he had cast upon him that he pushed up to where he lay and would have assaulted him if ned had not interposed. "let him alone," the boy said. "we'll leave the law to make payment in his case. are you going to tell us where the tent is, collins?" he added, turning to the angry captive. "i guess you can get along without the tent," collins said. "you won't have to remain here long. i've got men coming in. they may be here at any moment. officers of the republic of paraguay!" "i shall be glad to meet them!" ned laughed. "if you'll tell me where the tent is i'll be able to entertain them properly." "aw, i can find the tent if it is around here anywhere!" jimmie broke in. "what do you want of it?" demanded collins "a little tent cloth," ned smiled, "would make a serviceable machine of the nelson. we could make new planes in no time. what do you think of the idea?" "i'm not going to have the tent cut up," shouted collins. "i guess yes," jimmie said, provokingly. "you burned our planes, and you've got to supply material for new ones." the little fellow darted away as he spoke, working his way over the ledges which separated the two dents on the mountain sides. in a short time ned heard him calling and saw him looking down from the shelf above the cavern. "come on up," the lad cried. "i can see the tent over in the other valley, and there's another automobile coming. what do you think of that? this must be a regular station on the underground railroad between asuncion and lymanville!" ned lost no time in gaining the ledge. the white body of the tent was in plain sight, just where the men had dropped it out of the machine. the two boys hastened into the depression, seized the canvas in their arms, and started back toward the nelson. on the shelf again, ned asked: "where did you see a motor car?" "over east," was the reply. "there's a tunnel under the range off that way. i take it that a river ran there once, draining this valley." presently the machine appeared in the valley from which the vixen had slipped off into the pit. there were four men in the two seats. one was the indian in goggles who had driven the car away, the others were white men. the car could not have gone far, so these men must have been picked up just outside. the boys carried the canvas down to the nelson and began the work of making new planes, keeping close watch, but leaving the newcomers to do the calling if there was any to be done. there was plenty of canvas and the tools necessary for the work were found in the nelson's tool chest. collins watched the doings angrily. "these men," he finally said, "are officers. two from paraguay and one from peru. they have warrants for your arrest." he started to his feet as if to join the others as he spoke, but jackson saw that he did not get very far. "tell your friends," jackson said, "that we're too busy to be bothered now. we'll soon have this aeroplane fixed, and then we'll give an imitation of men sailing out of this mess. lyman knows a friend is here, for he heard my cowboy call. he will soon come out of his hole, and we'll take him back to asuncion--just to prevent international complications!" he added with a grin. the work of preparing the new planes progressed swiftly, but before it was completed the men who had arrived in the automobile appeared on the ledge and called down to those below. chapter xiii the nelson in the sky "well," ned called back, as the new arrivals shouted down from the ledge, "what do you want?" "we want to talk with you." "cripes," jimmie grinned, "we're in good demand today. the stock of boy scouts must be gettin' shy!" "go on and talk, then," ned answered, well satisfied as to what the fellows wanted. "shall we come down there?" "you stay away!" jimmie replied. "we're a little particular about our company!" "is that little runt speaking for you?" demanded the man on the ledge. "if he is, we'll do something besides talk." "for the present he is," ned replied. "what can i do for you?" "you can surrender yourself. we have warrants for your arrest." "couldn't think of it!" was the cool reply. "we prefer to remain at liberty." "i told you!" collins grunted, rising from his reclining position and moving toward the ledge. "i told you that you'd get into trouble. you'll sweat for this!" jackson caught him by the shoulder and whirled him back. "you stay here!" the ex-cowboy gritted. "the less trouble you make the better treatment you will receive." "what are you doing to collins?" asked the newcomer. "tell him to come up here." "i'm being held a prisoner!" collins shouted. "train your guns on these kids and drive them off. and find lyman. he left the cavern, but he's somewhere about, for he answered a cowboy call not long ago." "we already have lyman!" was the answer. "he thought we were the friends who had called him and joined us. we'll take care of him, all right." "that's fine business--not!" grunted jimmie. ned was not a little disappointed by the announcement. with lyman in the hands of his enemies, it might be impossible to get him back to asuncion in time to save his concession. and here was another difficulty, one which might bring on a war between the united states and paraguay. ned, as an official of the united states secret service, now knew that those high in authority in the government of paraguay were involved in the attempt to defraud lyman of his rights. this had been only suspected before. so long as only private interests were interfering with the treaty rights, so long as the government of the unruly republic was not mixed up in the attempt to cheat an american citizen out of his property, the government at washington might well restrain its hand. but when the government of paraguay itself, as ned now believed, was involved in the crooked game, that was an entirely different matter. ned believed that a full disclosure of the facts in the case would send warships to asuncion. he believed that an international complication might breed open war unless he succeeded in getting lyman away without open conflict with the authorities of the little republic. but how? well, the state department at washington had trusted him, and he would do his best. the thing to do at that time, it appeared to him, was to await the action of the newcomers. they might be officers of paraguay, with authority to make arrests in peru, and they might be only four-flushers. he must temporize until he found out what they proposed to do in the matter. and, then, he reasoned, if they had lyman, he had collins! that was not so bad! perhaps an exchange of prisoners might be made! this did not seem very likely, but still there was hope. collins, for all he knew, might be the man who expected to profit by the robbery of the american cattleman. "so mr. lyman is there with you?" ned called back. "send him over here. i want to talk with him." a harsh laugh was the only answer to this. "you may as well come to terms with me," collins exclaimed. "you have no chance of winning now. i like your nerve, but you're butting into too strong a game for a lad of your years." "i shall have to take chances," ned replied. "what will those men do with lyman?" "i don't know!" "i know!" jimmie cried. "they'll kill him!" "i don't think they'll do that," collins remarked, with a wicked sneer, "but it would clear the atmosphere if he should fall down a mountain!" "if he does," ned declared, flushing with anger at the brutality of the remark, "you will also take a tumble. if he is injured in any way, you'll answer to me for it." "you wait!" warned collins. "i've handled cases like this before. i can give you cards and spades and beat you out. you'll be getting hungry before long." "and the nelson will be ready for flight before long," ned replied. during all this conversation jackson and jimmie had kept steadily at work sewing the new, strong canvas taken from the tent on the frame of the planes. they could not make a very neat job of it, but they did their work well. ned had hope of getting out of the valley that very night. presently the men on the ledge withdrew for a time, and ned began a closer examination of the nelson. to his disgust he discovered that the gasoline was very low in the great tanks. built for long flights, the nelson's tanks were very large, fitted to carry a supply which would last a couple of days. ned did not quite understand why the supply should be short after a run of only three or four hundred miles. "i've got an idea!" jimmie said, catching the worried look on ned's face. "i'm afraid it will take something more than an idea to get the nelson back to lima," ned replied in a low tone, for he did not care to have collins informed of this new difficulty. collins, however, had been watching the movements of the boys closely, and at once surmised what the trouble was. he laughed insultingly as he pointed to the great tanks. "empty?" he snarled. "i knew it. now will you be good!" "shut up!" raged jackson, who was only too anxious to get a pretext for attacking collins. "we've heard enough from you!" "'tie him up!" ordered ned. "he's likely to make a run for it, and then we should have to shoot him. tie him up good and tight." "you'll be sorry if you do!" threatened the captive. notwithstanding this threat, the fellow was bound hand and foot. during the process of the work, which was performed none too gently by jackson, collins called out to his friends in the other valley, but there was no response. they were probably too busy with their plotting against the boys to hear the shouts. this business completed, jimmie beckoned ned aside. "here's my idea," he said. "the vixen's tanks didn't blow up when she burned and dropped. when it comes night i can go and get the gasoline. the tanks were full, were they not?" "yes, chock full. the driver seemed to have fitted her out for a long run. but we may be able to get the stuff before dark. the vixen did not land in the valley where they are, but in a canyon over to the west. suppose you go over there and see what the chances are?" "all right!" replied the boy. "and if the tanks of the vixen are not full, we'll steal the fuel out of that automobile when it gets dark!" "that's a good idea, too!" laughed ned. jimmie hastened away, keeping in the gully as long as possible and dodging around friendly cliffs when it came to climbing over the ridge which shut in the valley on the west. the gully cut across the valley, east and west, and was very deep at the east end. after the disappearance of the boy, ned removed collins to the deep end of the cut and placed jackson there as a guard. he did not want the captive to know what was going on, as a shout to his friends, if they again visited the ledge, might put them in possession of the facts regarding the empty tanks of the nelson. then it would be an easy matter for them to prevent the getting of the gasoline from the wrecked vixen. then ned, hearing no more from the alleged officers, went to work on the planes, and succeeded in getting a long strip sewed in before jimmie returned with his report. "the tanks are almost full," the lad said, "and all we've got to do is to unscrew a couple of burrs and lug them right over here. we can't do that until, after dark, for they would shoot at us. where's collins?" ned pointed to the gully. "well," the boy continued, "when i got up on that ridge, i could see the men over in the other valley. they are getting reinforcements from somewhere. anyway, i saw half a dozen indians standing around. they've got a fire and are cooking dinner. then i saw one of the white men pointing, and i'll tell you right now what they're going to do! they're going to station men around this little old crater and keep us in here until we starve, unless we give in." "they forget that there's an air route," laughed ned. "suppose we get up there on the nelson!" exclaimed the boy. "and suppose they shoot us off! that wouldn't be funny, would it?" "we've got to go in the night, then," ned said. "but before we go i want to have a talk with those fellows." "then you'll get a word with lyman, if you can?" "that wasn't a bluff, then? they have captured him again?" "oh, yes, they've got him with them, all right. anyway, there's four white men, and only three came in the car. guess it's lyman, sure enough!" "what is he doing?" "just walking about. they haven't got him tied up, at least the man i took for lyman isn't. he looks mad enough to bite nails, though!" "that is a wonder," ned said. "it may be that they are trying to make terms with him." "of course!" replied the boy. along in the afternoon one of the alleged officers appeared on the ledge again. he appeared to be somewhat excited, and ned suspected that something had gone wrong with the other party. however, he remained quiet, waiting for the other to make his errand known. after a short silence the fellow asked: "what has become of collins?" "he is still here," ned answered. "held against his will?" "well, he is still doing some kicking." "you'll be sorry if you don't let him go." "how will you trade prisoners?" asked ned. "send lyman down here and we'll send collins up to you." "oh, lyman doesn't want to leave us," was the reply. "we've arranged a settlement with him." ned did not believe this. he knew that the lyman concession was a valuable one, and that the cattleman would put up a long fight before sacrificing it. "send him down here then," ned answered. "if he is voluntarily staying with you, he can return if he wants to. send him down!" "he is afraid you'll try some trick on him," was the reply. the whole afternoon passed in just such conversation as this--talk which brought no results worth mentioning. ned did not believe that lyman was remaining with the newcomers voluntarily. he did not believe that lyman was suspicious of him. the men in the other valley frequently visited the ledge and talked with ned, but the boy saw that they were quietly making arrangements to surround him. now and then the figure of an indian appeared on the elevations about the valley, which was the crater of an extinct volcano. a little study showed ned that in some long forgotten time the two valleys had formed a great crater, and that this had been cut in two by the elevation of a mass in the center. high up above this dead crater, on the north, stretched the bulk of the mountain, the eruption having taken place on its south slope. but while ned talked with the visitors, argued with them, threatened, he kept at work on the planes, and at nightfall had them completed. the canvas had been put on double and sewed on very strongly, so the boy believed that it was as good a machine as ever that he contemplated getting out that night. "but," argued jimmie, when the plans were laid, "we can't all go in the nelson. how are you going to carry lyman, jackson and me?" jimmie thought for a moment and then added: "but we haven't got lyman yet. we'll have to come back after him, i take it, after we land jackson outside." "but i'm going to get him," ned replied, "if this machine works all right. i'm going to leave you and jackson here. what about that?" "if you can grab lyman," jimmie grinned in disbelief, "i'll be willing to stay here as long as the grub lasts!" "i'm going to get him," ned replied. "i don't know how, but i've just got to get him back to asuncion before the st." "and what about collins?" "we'll have to let him go. when i get out, let him go, and then you two will have to hide away until i can come back after you." "all right," replied jimmie, with a sigh. "only hurry back! i don't want to starve to death here." after dark ned, jackson and jimmie lugged the tanks of the wrecked vixen over to the valley and dumped the gasoline into the nelson's tanks. even this accession did not quite fill the latter. "wish we could get to the motor car," jimmie suggested. "now," ned said, "i want you two to kick up an awful rumpus here, directly. shoot and do all the yelling possible. let collins loose and chase him! he deserves it! then, when the fellows over there run up on the ledge to see what is doing, i'll swoop down in the aeroplane and pick up lyman--that is, if he is willing to come with me. if he isn't, i can't get him, that's all." "then, when we get up in the air, we take to our heels?" "exactly. if you don't these fellows will make trouble for you. hide, but keep making to the east. when i come back after you i'll come in from that way." "how long will it be?" asked the lad, who did not quite like the notion of being left there with jackson. "i can't say," was the reply. "i may leave lyman in the nearest town, or he may want to go to asuncion. i may be back by daylight, and i may be gone two days. i hope to be back by daylight." "all right," jimmie grunted. "we'll keep off to the east, and when you return you can pick us up before they know what's going on. here's hoping you get lyman!" "i'll get him!" ned replied, shutting his teeth hard together. so, all arrangements made, jimmie crept up on the ledge, about nine o'clock, and looked over into the twin valley. there was a campfire burning, and lyman, or the man the boy took for the cattleman, sat close beside it. the others were walking about. now and then an indian stepped inside the circle of light cast by the fire, consulted with the others for a moment, and disappeared again. it was certain that the alleged officers were preparing to advance on the boys, bent on putting the nelson out of commission for good. the planes had not been repaired any too quickly. when jimmie reported ned stepped into the machine. "when i get within sight of those in that valley," he said, "make all the noise you can. if you can cause them to think you're killing collins, all the better. make him yell! i'll go straight up and drop down by that fire before they get over their excitement." a few strong shoves, a dozen revolutions of the rubber-tired wheels, and the nelson left the ground, as strong and capable as ever. the motors made little noise, and no signs of discovery came from the other side until the machine was high up. then a few ineffectual shots were fired at her. jimmie and jackson began their part of the performance promptly by shooting and yelling. they loosened collins, much to that gentleman's delight, and started him off in the dim light on a run. as jackson took great delight in landing his bullets close to collins' feet, the alleged salesman ran for dear life toward the ledge, screaming and calling for help at every jump. this was exactly what the others wanted, and in a short time they saw a huddle of dark figures on the ledge. in the excitement the firing on the nelson had ceased. jackson and jimmie were not long in getting out of the valley after that. they whirled around the elevation between the two valleys, sometimes feeling their way in the darkness, climbed over a ledge, and made for the black entrance to the tunnel through which jackson had entered. when they were at the mouth of the tunnel they turned and looked back. the nelson was lifting from the valley where the fire had been seen, whirling up, up into the night sky. they could not determine from where they stood whether there were two or one on the big aeroplane. they had no means of knowing whether ned had succeeded or failed. the two watched the dim bulk of the aeroplane as it winged over their heads. now and then, after it was too late to do her any harm, a few vengeful shots were fired at her. the fact that ned kept going convinced them that he had picked up lyman and was on the way out with him. after the aeroplane had disappeared from sight jackson and jimmie hurried on through the dark tunnel, which, as has been said, was merely the dry channel of a stream which had cut its way out of the valley years before. jimmie proposed that they remain there all night, but jackson objected to this. their pursuers knew that he knew of the tunnel, he explained, in support of his objection, as they were aware that he had entered the valley by that route, so they would naturally look there for them. this was convincing, of course, and the two hastened on their way, lighted by the little searchlight. for a long time there were no indications of pursuit, then a popping roar came beating down the passage. "that's the automobile!" jimmie cried. "sounds like an express train, eh?" "it certainly does," jackson replied, "and it is up to us to get out of the way, somewhere. they won't take extra pains to catch us alive." chapter xiv arrested for smuggling the nelson swept out of the air like a bird and landed so close to the fire that ned felt the warmth of it on his face. the wheels cut the earth at first, under the force of the quick descent, then stopped. the firelight shone on the white planes, bringing them out strongly against the darkness, and ned knew that he could not remain there a minute without being discovered by the alleged officers of the little republic he was just then warring against. when he landed the men were out of sight around the ledge, but they of course saw the aeroplane and came running back. lyman, or a man ned believed to be the cattleman whose financial operations had stirred up an international row, stood moodily by the fire when the nelson dropped down, almost on top of his head. he sprang away, rubbed his eyes as if trying to awake himself from a bad dream, and then stood stock still, watching. "lyman?" ned called. there was no reply, and ned spoke the name again. "yes, lyman," the man by the fire answered, then. "what new wrinkle is this?" he added, stepping a little closer to the machine. "if you're lyman," ned replied, hastily, "you can't get in here any too quickly. those fellows will be here directly, with thomas q. collins in the lead, if my boys do their duty. there will be little chance for either of us then. jump in!" "but i've never been on one of those things, and i'm afraid," lyman said, with a shrug of the shoulders. "i'm afraid i'd fall out." a shot came from the ledge, and ned reached for the button which would start the motors going. "you've only a minute to decide," he said. "i've come a long way to find you. if you reject this chance you won't get another." "well," lyman cried, stepping up to the seat, very shaky as to nerves and pale as death, "i may as well die from a fall as from a bullet or a knife. if collins is coming back with the officers, i'll have to do something." the instant he was in his seat, ned threw the leather straps about his legs and wrists and buckled them tight. lyman shivered with fright. "i thought so!" he cried, mistaking ned's motives. "this is only another trick!" the wheels bumped for an instant over the inequalities of the surface, the machine rocked lightly, then the planes lifted into the air, the propellers running like mad. a few ineffectual shots came from the men who were running down from the ledge. ned saw jimmie and jackson chasing collins out of the valley, heard their shots, and then, in a few moments, saw them at the mouth of the tunnel. in five minutes more the nelson was out of all danger, purring through the darkness like a contented cat. lyman sat moodily in his harness, saying not a word, but fully convinced that this was only another trick of his enemies. directly the boy slowed the motors down so as to make conversation possible. "well," he said, turning on one of the electric bulbs so as to see the face of his passenger, "what do you think of the nelson? peach, isn't she?" "where are you taking me?" was the only reply to the question. "that is for you to say. we are not very far from sicuani, peru, and from there you can secure transportation back to asuncion--if you think it safe to go there, under the circumstances. about a hundred miles to the north is cuzco. you can go there and prepare for your visit to asuncion if you care to. then, over here in bolivia, is sucre. it might be well for you to go there. anyway, it is up to you." "who is doing this?" asked lyman, suspiciously. "i can't see as that makes any difference to you," ned replied. "i was in the hope," lyman went on, "when you came down upon me so unexpectedly, that my friends had found me. you speak english like a new york man," he went on. "perhaps you live over there?" "yes," was the reply. "i live in new york, when i am home." "nice little old rotten government we've got!" almost shouted lyman. "the people at washington let any crooked little republic do anything it has a mind to do to a citizen of the united states. they're too busy getting themselves into office and keeping in to pay any attention to their duties. england wouldn't stand for a minute the tricks that have been played on me, not by business rivals, but by the government of paraguay! england protects her citizens, wherever they are!" "well," ned replied, with a laugh, "you may be right about england, but you are wrong about uncle sam. he looks after his own, too; if he didn't i wouldn't be here now. you wouldn't be on earth!" "do you mean to say--" lyman hesitated, and ned went on and told him as much of the history of the expedition as he thought it necessary for the cattleman to know. "and now," he concluded, "where do you want to go?" "i want you to go with me, wherever i go," was the reply. "and i think we'd better go straight to asuncion." "do you think that a safe plan?" "oh, yes; they won't dare abduct me again." "then," ned added, "we may as well get on the way. asuncion is somewhere about twelve hundred miles from here, and we've got to make it by daylight." "what's that?" asked lyman, hardly believing he had heard aright. "you would better say in two days." "the nelson can make it in eight hours," ned replied, "if we don't drop into any holes in the air or adverse currents." "holes in the air!" repeated lyman. "sure," answered ned. "the atmosphere surrounding the earth is just like the water in the large reservoirs--there are deep places and shallow places, holes you can drop in, and currents like the gulf stream current, the japanese current, which warms the northern states and british columbia, and the arctic humboldt current, which sends a cold stream down the pacific coast of south america. if we have no difficulties with these rivers of the air, and the wind does not come up too strong, we can make asuncion by six o'clock in the morning. it is about ten now." "what sort of an airship have you here?" demanded lyman, amazed at the thought of running at the rate of two hundred miles an hour or a hundred and fifty, at least. "she was built for speed and endurance," was the reply. "now cover your face with this mask, unless you want to have your breath blown out of the back of your head, and we'll get under way." that was a night ride which neither of the participants ever forgot. the first part of the night was dark. then a moon shone down from a cloudless sky, showing all the beauties of that magnificent country. the mountains, the forests, the headwaters of the rivers which help to make the amazon, were under their feet. now and then they swept over a point of light which denoted the presence of a small town. occasionally the cry of frightened wild beasts--the vicious mountain lion, the savage tiger cat, the prowling puma--came up to their ears. after a short run to the southeast, ned wheeled about and struck straight off to the east. the wind was growing stronger, and the nelson was not making as good time as the boy desired. there was a fierce current about the top of mt. sorata, which is something over , feet in height, and again ned swung off to the north. dropping down, then, he swept into the valley of the beni river, which joins the madeira river, some distance beyond the bolivian border. he knew that at the eastern rim of bolivia there was a series of high mountain ranges which would protect him from the drifts blowing over from the atlantic--serre geral, serre paxecis, serre aguapehy--and he reasoned that he could make better speed under the lee of these elevations. so he swept down the valley of the beni until it joined with the madeira, crossed a line of hills, and made for the serre geral range, something under a hundred miles away. as the nelson cleared the valley, however, lyman gave ned a punch in the ribs with an elbow and nodded toward the ground. his wrists were fast in the harness so he could not use his hands. ned looked down and instantly dropped the nelson a few hundred feet. some distance down the madeira, in the center of the stream, were the lights of a boat which seemed to be anchored there. ned swept closer and tried his best to make out the outlines of the craft, but he could not do it without descending close to the river, and this he did not care to do. "it looks like the black bear," he thought, as he shot up into the air again, "but of coarse it can't be. those boy scouts are not fools enough to bring her up into this country." so he came to the protection of the mountains and proceeded south toward asuncion at a speed which caused lyman to gasp for breath. of course he was ignorant of the fact that frank, jack, and harry had started out, during his absence, to explore the headwaters of the amazon, hoping to come upon the nelson before returning. as for the lads on the black bear, they did not even know that the nelson was so close to them that night. it was three nights later that they first saw the aeroplane drifting above them. asuncion does not at all compare in beauty or in thrift with the other capital cities of south america. the government of the republic is so unstable that business men are loath to make heavy investments there. for one thing the town is poorly lighted, and when ned came, in view of the place at five o'clock the few street lamps were already out. people were abroad at that early hour, however, and small crowds soon gathered on the street corners to watch the great airship approach. what ned could not see was the intense excitement around the government offices. in ten minutes from the time the airship showed above the city, messengers were out in the streets and officials of the lower rank were headed for their offices. in a few minutes this alarm was communicated to police headquarters and to the military station where the governor's guard was stationed. if the boy had been able to understand the situation below, if he had known that asuncion had been communicated with from lima and also from sicuani, he would have given the city a wide berth. he saw the gathering of crowds below, of course, but naturally attributed this to curiosity. he had no doubt that the nelson was the first airship ever seen at asuncion. "where are you going to take me?" asked lyman, as the machine slowed down and he found himself able to speak. "to the american consul," was the reply. lyman sighed and shook his head. "i'm afraid he will take little interest in me," he said. "doubtless," ned replied, "he has received instructions from washington. anyway, i fail to see how they can molest you now, even if they have the inclination to do so. you just go about your business as usual, and leave this abduction matter to the future. you can gain nothing now by stirring that up. report to the consul and go on about your business as if nothing had happened." "that is the only thing there is to do," lyman responded, with a sigh. "still, i'm suspicious of those chaps. they'll have some trick ready." before long ned found a level spot not far from the capitol building where he could, drop the nelson. when he headed for that locality he was followed through the streets below by a shouting, howling mob. "i can't understand this," he thought, and lyman was still more suspicious. at last the nelson was brought to the surface of the earth and ned and lyman stepped out, very willing to stretch their legs after such a long ride. they had been in the air about twice the time set for endurance by noted aviators. they did not get much of a chance to stretch their legs, however, for they bumped into a squad of soldiers on stepping out of their seats. "you are under arrest!" a gaily-dressed officer said, flashing his sword out of its scabbard. "what for?" demanded ned, speaking in spanish. "smuggling!" was the reply. ned laughed heartily. arrested for smuggling! "search us, and search the machine, then," he replied, "and let us go on about our business. we have no time to lose." "in time! in time!" was the drawling reply. "such things are not done so quickly here! in three-four days--in a week--in three, four weeks, perhaps. in the meantime you go to the jail." ned thought of the swiftly-slipping days, of the peril jimmie and jackson were in, of leroy in prison at lima, and was about ready to fight. the officer refused to take him to the president, or to the american consul. in a quarter of an hour he was in a cell, alone, wondering what had been done with lyman, and also wondering what would become of the nelson. he knew that the charge of smuggling, of bringing goods into the republic by means of an airship, would be held against him as long as it pleased his accusers to keep him in prison. that would be until the concession expired and, possibly, until the nelson lay a total wreck in the streets. he saw no one who could give him any information as to what was going on in the outside until the morning of the st, after he had been incarcerated forty-eight hours. then a turnkey unlocked his door and motioned him out. "for trial?" ned asked, hopefully. "it is the wish of the president," was the reply. "but what, why, when--" "you have yet to see," was the impertinent reply. "you have yet to see if you can do these things to our countree!" and so, mystified and, if the truth must be told, not a little discouraged, ned was led through the prison corridors, his mind filled wit thoughts of leroy, jimmie, the nelson, and, strangely enough, the black bear! chapter xv the warning from the sky there was a shock when the prow of the black bear struck a canoe which lay full in its path. the momentum was retarded for only a second. then the motor boat was beyond the line of war canoes with their screaming, gesticulating occupants. looking out of the rear ventilator, frank saw a smashed canoe running down with the current, with a dozen or more natives clinging to it. but there was still a large number of canoes up the river, and the black bear was struck more than once by forceless bullets and poisoned arrows as she sped past them. armed with modern rifles, the indians would have made short work of the occupants of the black bear, but the muskets they used were old and mostly out of condition. the arrows were far more deadly, although they stood less chance of penetrating the tough panels. "now," harry said, as they passed a racing fleet of indian boats, "we can open up a little and get a breath of fresh air! i'm just about suffocated!" "not just yet," jack, who was at the front, said, "for there's a mess of the black scamps just ahead. they are on the bank, both banks, and seem to be waiting for something to happen. i wonder what it can be?" "some trap, i suppose," harry gritted. "well, all we can do is to ran on through them, if they come out in boats, and get out of their reach. we ought to be able to be out of this blasted country in a couple of hours." "that's all right," jack replied, "but you just listen a moment." but the racing motors shut out all individual sounds, and harry shut them down for a minute. seeing this, jack dropped an anchor at the prow, and the boat lay pulling at the cable in the current. "what did you do that for?" asked frank, addressing both boys from the stem. "listen!" commanded jack. "look!" ordered harry. what frank heard was the heavy, continuous roar of a waterfall. what he saw, as he crowded up under the plate glass panel in the top, were the lights of an airship! "i tell you," harry cried, excitedly, "that that's the nelson. you can't fool me about that." "why doesn't she come down, then?" demanded jack. "because she doesn't know that this is the black bear. that is an easy one! if she did she'd be here in a second." the boys studied the lights a moment and then turned their attention to the indians, who were now making a great clamor. in a short time it was easy to see what they were up to. above roared the falls and the rapids. at this point in the beni river there is a swift drop from the mountain plateau above. it will be remembered that the beni reaches away up into the illimani mountains, with its springs not far distant from the summit of the andes. where the boys were the paredon and the paderneira, falls and the araras and the misericordia rapids made the navigation of the river, even in the protected black bear, impossible for many miles. the indians seemed to understand this, for they had gathered at the foot of the falls, possibly expecting to see the craft attempt the ascent. jack watched them from the prow for a time and then asked: "what's that they are throwing into the river?" "logs!" replied harry, looking out over jack's shoulder, "and brush!" "well, of all the--" the sentence was not finished. frank, at the stern, gave a yell and fired out of the loophole. "come here!" he shouted, then, "if you want to see what the devils are doing. this takes the cake!" a glance showed the others what the plot against them was. harry went to his locker for his revolver and jack drew his from a pocket. "i guess it is a fight now!" frank said. "you see what they are doing?" "of course. anybody can see that." jack reached out of the opening and fired a perfect volley down stream. frank crowded against him to look out. "never touched them!" he cried. "no," jack went on, "they're forming a bridge with their canoes and running logs and brush down against it. they've got an obstruction already that the black bear never can get through." "what's the matter with dynamite?" asked harry. "oh, we can use dynamite as long as we have it," was the reply, "but there will be indians on guard there long after we are out of the stuff." "i guess that's right!" with a sober drawing of the lips. "i'll tell you what we've got to do," harry said, presently. "we've got to put on full power and try to run up the rapids." "why, there is noise enough for a ten-foot fall," frank replied. "we've got to risk it," jack went on. "now, you just wait," frank cut in. "i don't think you've got this thing sized up right at all. harry," he continued, "who does this boat belong to?" "to the black bear patrol," was the reply. "you know that well enough." "then we can do what we please with it, so long as we make it right with the other members of the patrol?" "why, of course." jack looked at his chums with a grin. "what are you figuring on?" he asked. "one would think you were planning to blow the black bear into smithereens." "that's about it," frank replied. "and go to kingdom come with her?" laughed jack. "not any of that for me. i'm headed, eventually, for little old n.y." "i'm tired of fooling with these cannibals," frank explained. "we haven't molested them, and yet they are after our scalps. they'll get them, too, if something isn't done--and done right away, at that." "i'm with you!" jack exclaimed. "i'm willing to try anything once. only let me in on the secret!" he added, chuckling. "you had it right," frank said. "what i propose is to blow the black bear into smithereens, and about a thousand of those bloodthirsty natives with it. the world will be all the better for their being out of it. they are worse than the savage beasts in the forests." "but what is to become of us?" asked harry. frank pointed to the wolf, tugging at the cable which held her nose to the stem of the black bear. "we'll be safe in there when the explosion takes place," he said. jack clapped the speaker on the shoulder. "you're all right!" he cried. harry looked mystified for a moment, and then said, speaking loudly in order that his voice might be heard above the shouts of the savages and the beating of arrows against the panels of the boat: "it looks as if we'd have to do it. i hate to leave the black bear in such a mess away off here in south america, but i don't see how we are to get her out. the wolf will carry us all right, i suppose?" he said, tentatively. "sure thing!" frank replied. "i've been thinking it all out. we'll do it this way: when we get ready we'll put on full speed ahead on the motors, with the prow turned against that obstruction below. then we'll hop into the wolf and shut everything down tight. the black bear will weaken the jam below, and the sharp nose of the wolf will poke through the rest of the logs and canoes. and there you are!" "free of the natives, and bobbing down the river in safety!" cried jack. "that looks good to me!" "but about the dynamite?" asked harry. "well," frank replied, "we've got to use the black bear for a battering ram anyway, and she'll be all smashed up, so we may as well go the whole hog with her. we'll put a lot of dynamite down under the motors and fix a cap so it will blow up when the concussion comes. by that time the natives will be swarming around her, and they'll get what's coming to them." "and where will we be when the explosion is rocking this half of the world?" demanded harry. "up in the air?" "we'll be a cuddled up in the wolf, between the lockers, with plenty of grub and ammunition, sailing down the river in a bullet-proof vessel. this move will burst up our meeting with the nelson, of course, but there is no other way. they'll get us if we remain here." while this talk had been going on, the cannibals had drawn nearer to the black bear, pressing forward from both banks in canoes and pounding at the panels with their arrows. it seemed only a question of time when they would board the craft and force the panels. their shouts of victory were shrill and exasperating. "you see how it is," frank said, "the black bear can never be pushed up over the falls, and we can never get her past the obstructions below, even by the use of dynamite. if we could blow the those logs out of the way, the indians would board us instantly. we could give them only a charge or two of dynamite and a few shots before they would be inside. now' we can drift down the river in the wolf without fear of entertaining man-eaters on board. they may get on top of the boat, but they can never get inside." "and so we'll have to give up our trip!" wailed harry. "we'll have to drift down stream in that hot hole and take a steamer at the nearest river town!" "it strikes me," frank observed, "that it is a mighty good thing we've got that hot hole to drift down stream in. if the black bear had only been constructed on the principle of the wolf, we'd be in a position to give these heathens the laugh. well, let us pull the wolf up and throw out stuff enough to give us room. then we'll get out the dynamite." the boys drew the wolf up by the cable as frank tried to elude the watchful eyes of the savages long enough to open the hatch on top and climb inside, but a dozen arrows whizzed by his head when he looked out. "can't do it!" he said. "never in the world!" jack assented. "another good scheme gone wrong!" harry ejaculated. "what next?" "dynamite," almost shouted jack. "we'll give them dynamite as long as it lasts, and then ram the logs below." "we may kill, a couple of hundred," frank said, "but it seems to me that there will be about ten thousand left." the boys were indeed in a tight box. with their automatics and their dynamite they might keep the natives at bay for a time, but in the end they would be obliged to surrender or starve to death. "well," jack said, grimly, "let's get out the dynamite. i want to see some of these devils blown up!" just then an arrow struck the plate glass panel at the top of the black bear's deck covering and jack looked up. he gazed a moment in wonder and then let out a shout that rose above the yelling of the savages and the pounding of arrows against the panels of the black bear. "glory be!" he shouted. frank and harry crowded to his side and looked up. "it is the nelson!" harry exclaimed. "you bet it is!" frank admitted. "good old ned!" jack roared. the aeroplane was only a few yards above the black bear. already the natives were slinking away in their canoes. those on the banks were slowly withdrawing into the shelter of the forests. "they're running away!" jack cried. "now we'll have some fun with good old ned nestor!" for a moment it looked as if the statement was correct; as if the natives, alarmed at the sight of the aeroplane would disappear from sight without a fight. but this supposition was soon disproved. as the nelson came nearer, a dozen bullets from the forests struck her planes. the boys, in the boat raised the panel and shouted to the aviator to look out for poisoned arrows. then the aeroplane shot up again. they could see that there was only one person on the machine, and that he was busy arranging something which looked like a stick of dynamite which he held in his hands. in a moment something grim and sinister whirled and hissed through the air, and then there came a terrific explosion in the forest to the right. trees were leveled, and a great hole showed in the bank. in an instant, following close on the roar of the dynamite, there came a chorus of cries from savage throats-cries of fear, of terror, of rage--and then silence. for a moment it seemed as if the forests held no forms of animal life, then the sharp call of the tiger-cat, the wail of the puma, the chattering of the monkeys, came to the ears of the listening boys. "i guess this coming act will consist of a feed for the wild beasts!" jack said. for a long time there was no sound of savage life in the forests, save that from the throats of beasts of prey, scenting blood and slowly drawing closer to the river's banks. the boys on the black bear looked into each other's faces and wondered. "they didn't act that way when we exploded dynamite!" jack said. "no. they came right back at us!" frank replied. "i take it that they think there's something supernatural in this dropping of dynamite from the sky," harry observed. "anyway, they seem to have taken themselves off, and we'll open up and signal to the nelson! say, won't it be fine to see good old ned nestor again? i wonder how he knew we were here?" "and i wonder where jimmie and leroy are?" harry reflected. "there is only one person on the machine, and that must be ned." jack was about to throw open the top panels when he caught sight of the aeroplane again, nearer to the water than before. "what's ned doing?" he asked, pointing upward. "talking!" exclaimed frank. "wigwagging!" harry broke out. "now, let us see what he says." slowly to the right and left, up and down, an electric bulb flashed in the sky. harry counted. "that's c;" he said, "and that's 'a,' and that's 'u,' and that's 't,' and now 'i,' and 'o,' and 'n.' 'caution!' that means that we've got to stand pat for a time yet." "it also means," jack said, "that we've made no mistake about that being the nelson, with a boy scout on board. those wigwag signals show the supposition to be true." "well," harry puzzled, "he wouldn't be sending us a warning from the sky if there wasn't some danger we were not aware of. there is something going on that we are not wise to." there was a short silence on board and then frank remarked: "we must be nearer the falls than we thought, for the water seems to be a ripple about us. rear it! i'm going to look out and see it looks like." in a moment he was jamming the panel shut and springing the slides over the loopholes and the ventilators. jack sprang to the prow, not knowing what danger threatened, but obeying the sudden gestures of his chum to close every opening. before he sprung the steel panel over the ventilator he glanced out on the river. "great heavens!" he cried. "get your guns, boys!" the whole surface of the stream, as far as the boy's eyes reached, seemed covered with savage heads, floating, drifting, down upon the black bear. chapter xvi red fire from the sky under the light of the moon the rushing river seemed full of leering, cruel eyes. the bodies of the swimming savages were not visible--only the upturned faces and the threatening eyes, with now and then a hand or the point of a glistening shoulder. there appeared to be thousands of the cannibals; their mass reaching from shore to shore. then, while the boys looked, expecting every instant to hear the sound of feet outside the panels, a rocket shot out from the nelson and a score of parti-colored balls curved and hissed toward the earth. "gee!" jack cried. "he's giving them a fourth-of-july celebration!" "hope it scares them off," said harry. looking through the heavy glass panel at the top, they saw a rain of red fire drop down on the swirling river. for a moment the whole upper air, then river and forest, was painted a bloody red by the burning powder. cries came from the river, and the mass of floating heads parted and swung swiftly toward the shores; then silence. the aeroplane circled about cautiously and then dropped down lower. jack opened the panel. "hello the boat!" cried a voice from the aviator's seat. "hello, ned!" all three boys called back. "how do you know it's ned?" was asked. "we saw that beautiful face of yours in the red fire," replied jack. "how are we going to get out of here? they've blockaded the river below, and the falls are above." "i presume i have dynamite enough to blow up that improvised dam," replied ned. "why didn't you do it?" before jack could explain the situation, the nelson drifted past, and he knew that his voice would not carry to her. "i'm going to open up now," harry said, as the nelson drifted out of range of the glass pane. "i'm pretty near choked in here." "nice time we would have had in the wolf," laughed jack. "anyway," urged harry, "we should have been in her in a minute if the nelson hadn't shown up. say, won't they give us the laugh in new york? came away off out here alone, and then had to be rescued by ned!" very cautiously the panels giving on the stern were opened. there were no savages in view. the banks of the stream seemed as quiet and harmless as a thicket in central park. "i guess the rocket and the red fire got them!" grinned frank. "yes, but they won't stay scared forever!" harry put in. "we'd better be getting out of this before they come back to their senses." "they never had any senses!" claimed jack. looking out from the interior, now guarded only by the panels at the front and sides, the boys saw ned drop half a dozen sticks of dynamite on the logs and brush which had been floated down on top of a number of canoes. in some places the logs had pushed up until they were high above the surface of the water. the pressure of the current was continually making the obstruction more compact. the canoes seemed to have been bound firmly together and stretched from shore to shore. at least the moorings were strong, for the logs were heavy and the current pulled heavily at them. the explosions made great havoc with the barricade, and presently the line was broken and the whole mass swung shoreward or drifted down stream. then ned called out: "now drop down stream and i will join you." "better look out where you land!" harry called back. "i hope i won't get into any such scrape as you did," ned replied. "oh, you're not out of it yet!" laughed frank. "these woods are full of man-eaters. look out where you go, and we'll find a place for you to come down." the anchor of the black bear was lifted and the power turned on. in a minute she was going down stream at a thirty-mile gait. directly they passed the wrecked barricade, rolling and tumbling in the waters, the canoes either broken or half full of water. the nelson still led the way down the stream. "i guess he's never going to stop." "wonder if he's going back to new york?" "perhaps he's lost control!" the boys looked and wondered as the aeroplane drifted on to the north and cast. they were miles from the scene of the battle now, but the airship went on. presently they saw the purpose of the aviator in making this long run. a little nest of houses flashed out on the river bank, with here and there a light showing, and here the onward course of the nelson became a circling descent. in the east there was a faint line of dawn in the sky when the black bear was pushed up to a primitive wharf. the aeroplane was still circling in the air. "he wants us to pick out a spot for him to land on," jack said. "there's one over by that hill," he added. when ned saw the three boys gather at the spot indicated and motion to him to come down he lost no time in doing so. when he stepped out of his seat all three lads were upon him. one would have thought they were determined to tear him in pieces the way they seized his hands, his legs, and pulled at his neck. "you old fraud!" "how did you know?" "you're a nice old chaperon!" for a moment ned could not say a word, then he pushed the boys away and sat down on the ground. "you're a nice bunch!" he said. "sure!" said jack. "the people back there thought so much of us that they wanted us to remain to dinner!" grinned harry. "there ain't no better people!" frank insisted. "how did you happen to get out here?" demanded ned. "why, you fellows ought to have a chaperon. those cannibals would have had a good dinner today if the nelson hadn't come that way." "now, don't crow over us!" pleaded frank. "we know all about it. you've gotten us out of many a scrape, but this is the large event. we take off our hats to you. now, where's jimmie and leroy?" "i don't know," answered ned, gravely. "i guess you are the one who needs a--" "i guess you are right," ned replied. "i've been up against the pricks good and plenty since i left you. if i get to new york alive, i'm going to stay there for good." "where did you leave leroy?" asked frank. "in jail!" "wow!" cried all three boys. "and jimmie? i don't see how you happened to lose him." "jimmie is lost in the peruvian mountains," ned said. "well, why don't we go and get him?" asked harry. "yes," laughed frank. "we might ride in the black bear over the storm-tossed summits of the andes!" "at least," ned said, "you boys can help me a lot. i have my hands full. we can all ride the nelson, i take it. she was built to carry three average-weight men, you know, and i think she ought to manage three boys and one man!" "oh, you man!" laughed jack, poking ned in the side. "you man who has to come to the three boys for help!" "tell us about it," frank said. "the quicker we start in on the search for jimmie the quicker he will be found," harry insisted. it was not much of a town where the nelson had landed. there were a few native houses and a great warehouse, at one end of which was a small office. such river products as came from up stream were packed there to await transportation down to the amazon. by the time the sun was up a score or more natives and a couple of british traders were gathered about the aeroplane and the black bear. one of the traders, mr. hamlin, invited the boys to his home for breakfast, and left some of his employees on guard at the nelson and the black bear. during the breakfast ned recounted his adventures, to which the host listened with the closest attention. frank then told of the cruise of the black bear, adding that they had hoped to reach the very last yard of water flowing down the andes slope to the east. "it is wonderful what american boy scouts will accomplish!" mr. hamlin said, when the tales had been told. "a few years ago no boy of your age would have undertaken such a duty as sent you to paraguay," he added, addressing ned, "and no boys would have dared to navigate the beni river," he continued, smiling at the three bright faces on the other side of the table. "the boy scout training makes for courage and resourcefulness," ned said. "we have not been caught in many traps. in fact, i think we are now up against the very worst situation we have ever encountered." "but you haven't yet told us how you got out of jail at asuncion, only that you got in on a smuggling charge and were released. who brought about the release?" "the president of the republic," was the reply. "he learned of the matter and ordered me brought before him. well, i had been searched, and the nelson had been searched, and nothing found, so i was let go. the president also ordered the nelson returned to me. it had been appropriated by an official who had declared it forfeited. not a bad chap that president, still, i think he saw uncle sam in the background!" "and about this man lyman?" "i was told that he had gone back to his concession. i went out there in the airship, but failed to find him. after we find jimmie and get leroy out of the jail at lima i'm going to find lyman once more." "this," jack said, "is the d of august. now, we saw you last night, the d, and the night before, the st. why didn't you come down then?" "because i was not certain that it was the black bear, and because i wanted to investigate the place where i last saw jimmie and the man jackson. i was over the boat longer ago than the night of the st, but you did not know it, i guess." "well, you came at the right time, when you did come," jack said. "i only wish you hadn't found us in such a pickle!" "it doesn't seem to me," mr. hamlin suggested, "that the nelson ought to carry four. you may have to go pretty fast. now, one of you can remain with me, in welcome, and look after the black bear. i have plenty of gasoline, and we can amuse ourselves with trips on the river. later, you can come back after the boat." "i think i'd better stay," harry stevens said. "i'm not stuck on long rides in the air. besides, you can do just as well without me. how far is it to the place where you left jimmie and this man jackson?" ned took out his pocket map and bent over it. "here we are," he said, presently, "in the valley of the madeira, with a range of mountains on each side. below are the rapids and the falls. you must have had a sweet time traveling up from fort san antonio. you passed about three hundred miles of swift rapids and falls. how many times did you have to take the black bear to pieces?" "not once there," was the reply. "we managed to steam up. but, say, we had a lovely time getting up over one waterfall!" "well," ned went on, "here we are at the big bend of the upper madeira. we are not far from a thousand miles from the place where i found lyman. we can get there by nightfall." "not for me," jack said, with a shrug of the shoulders. "we should have to ride continuously to make it in that time, and i don't like to remain in the air that long. we ought to have five rests of an hour each, and get there in the morning." "yes," ned replied, "i'm getting tired of long rides myself. we'll go slower." after breakfast the boys went to the black bear and looked her over. the propeller which had been broken could easily be repaired, they found, so they left that matter to harry, replenished the tanks of the nelson with gasoline, and prepared for the long journey back to the mountains of peru. "when are you coming back?" asked harry, as the three mounted the machine. "in three days," replied ned. "and we'll bring jimmie with us." "if they haven't fed him to the mountain lions before now!" harry said, with a strange premonition of evil in his heart. and the nelson was up and away, and harry set to work cleaning up the motor boat, hoping to forget in toil how lonely and apprehensive he was. chapter xvii using boy scouts for bait! alarmed by the swift approach of the motor car in the tunnel, jimmie and jackson took to their heels and made swift progress toward the east entrance, throwing the searchlight about and keeping their eyes out for some hiding place as they ran. before long it became evident that they could not long maintain the pace they had taken. the motor car was gaining on them rapidly, as they knew by the steady approach of the clamor which the engines were making. "gee!" cried jimmie, at last. "no use! i've got to drop in somewhere!" jackson was as ready to stop running as was jimmie, so they drew up against the wall and jimmie shut off the light from his electric candle. "do you think they saw that light?" asked jimmie, pushing close to the rock wall. "i hope not." "probably not, as there was always an angle between us," was the whispered reply, "but their light is coming around that angle now. stand close!" it was of little use to stand close. under the great lamps every crack and crevice of the tunnel walls was in plain sight to the occupants of the car. the two fugitives might as well have attempted concealment under the limelight in the center of the stage of a broadway theatre! jimmie's hand was on his automatic as the car halted in front of him. jackson saw what was in the boy's mind and laid a hand on his arm. "none of that!" he said. "well, i'm not goin' to be--" jackson forced the revolver out of the boy's hand as he brought it out of his pocket. "they've got us," he whispered, "and will be only too glad of an excuse to shoot us down in cold blood." "well!" this from thomas q. collins, who sat in the front seat, looking at the two as if he could bite them in pieces! jimmie looked sullenly toward his automatic, in jackson's hand, and said not a word. jackson stepped forward. "you've got us!" he said. "you bet we have!" gloated collins. "where did that nestor boy go with the man he picked up by the fire?" "did he get him?" asked jimmie. "yes, he got him, worse luck!" was the reply. "where did he go with him?" "don't know," replied jimmie. "i'll find a way to make you know!" gritted collins. "do you fellows know what it is to be hungry?" "honest," jackson cut in, "we don't know where nestor went with lyman. when he left us, he was not certain that he could get him. thought lyman might not want to go away with a stranger on such short notice." "oh, what's the use?" demanded one of the others. "the fellow has gone back to asuncion. that's easy to figure out. who set you boys at work on this case?" he added, in a moment, at a whisper from his seat-mate. "ned set me at work," jimmie answered. "yes, but who set him at work?" "i'll tell you," jackson said, with a smile of satisfaction on his face, "the united states government set ned at work. you'd better watch out how you butt up against the secret service men." "that's just what i told you!" sneered collins. "you wouldn't believe me. now what do you think?" the speaker left his seat in the machine and walked over to where jackson was standing, the revolver still in his hand. "give me that gun!" he demanded. jackson passed it over without a word of protest. "now your own gun," collins demanded, extending his hand. "i have no gun," was the reply. "you know that very well." "i thought you might have stolen one since leaving the cow country," snarled the other. "there is no knowing what kind of property you light-fingered gentlemen will acquire." "you're a liar, collins," jackson said, coolly. "you know i never ran off the cattle which were missed. i believe you stole them!" collins advanced angrily toward the speaker, but one of his company drew him back. "cut it out!" he said. "there will be plenty of time later on." "what are you going to do with us?" asked jimmie. "you'll see!" collins replied. "i wonder how you would like a game of chase-the-bullet? similar to the one you gave me not long ago?" "like it fine," jimmie grinned, "if it didn't do me no more harm than it did you. never touched you!" "it may be different in your case," collins threatened. after consulting together in whispers for some moments, the men loaded jimmie and jackson into the crowded motor car and put on the reverse movement. in half an hour, the progress being slow, they came to the valley where the campfire was still burning. here they all alighted. half a dozen peruvian indians of vicious appearance now came forward, and collins gave them instructions in an undertone, after which the two captives were led away to the cavern in which lyman had been sheltered up to the time of the arrival of the nelson. one of the indians remained outside while the others hastened away. "well," jimmie said, as he looked gloomily at the discouraged jackson, "what do you think of this? i'd like to push the face of that collins person in so it would mix with the back curtain." "we're in for it!" moaned jackson. "aw, what can they do to us?" demanded the little fellow. "they can keep us here until we die of starvation," replied jackson. "i've had a turn with starvation, and know what it's like." jimmie reached under his coat and brought out a can of beans. "here," he said, "get busy on this." "they took mine away when they searched me for a gun," said jackson. "buck up!" advised jimmie. "we've got to figure out some way to give them the slip. what?" "yes, i suppose so!" jackson had counted on getting back to civilization without further difficulties, on the arrival of the nelson, and now he was completely discouraged. jimmie sat on the floor of the cavern and eyed him quizzically. "ned will come back after us," the little one said, presently. "you put your bloomin' trust in ned, an' you'll come a four-time winner out of the box. i know. i've been out with him before." "but how will he ever find us here?" asked jackson. "how did he ever find lyman?" demanded the boy. "you hush your kickin' an' leave it all to ned. guess he knows enough to get us out of this sink of iniquity! that boy eats 'em alive!" "i can't see why they should keep us here," jackson remarked, presently, prying off the top of the can of beans with his pocket knife. "why don't they go back to asuncion and look after that cattle concession?" "because they've got some one there to look out for it for them," replied the boy. "they're waitin' here for ned to come back an' get us, if anybody should ask you," he went on, his cheerful smile not at all matching the serious import of his words. "this collins person has cards up his sleeve, an' he wants to get hold of ned. he's set his trap with us for bait." "you're a cheerful little cuss!" grinned jackson, beginning to see the dangerous side of the situation. "and what are we going to do when ned comes back? let them soak him?" "not so you could notice it," was the reply. "when ned comes back we'll be out at the other end of that tunnel, an' he'll swoop do in in the nelson an' pick us up, an' we'll be back in little old n. y. before you can say scat." "but how can we--" the entrance to the cavern was darkened for a moment and then the flashily-dressed form of collins made its appearance. "what's that about getting back to little old n. y.?" he asked. "when do you start for manhattan island?" "you heard, then?" asked jackson. "of course." "well?" "well, we'll see that you don't get away until this ned comes back after you. we need him in our business." "he'll land lyman at asuncion before you see him again," jimmie said. "not a doubt of it," was the sullen reply, "but don't you ever think we haven't got people there who will look out for our interests. lyman won't be at liberty long, and your ned will come back here to get what's coming to him." "is that so?" exclaimed the boy, putting on a bold front, but inwardly fearful that the situation was a tragic one. leaving the captives with this cheering (?) information, collins went back to his companions, leaving the indian still on guard. for a time the indian stood stolidly in front of the cave, then, looking carefully about to see that he was not observed by his employers, he faced the opening and uttered one english word: "prepared." jackson opened his eyes in amazement, but jimmie saw an extended hand and sprang forward. the indian's right hand was extended toward the boy, palm up, the thumb and little finger meeting across the palm and crossed, the remaining fingers straight out. "you mean, 'be prepared'?" jimmie asked. "'be prepared,"' repeated the other, like one rehearsing a lesson. "gee!" laughed the boy. "here's a boy scout lingerin' in little old peru! now wouldn't that stop a clock?" "you just wait a minute," jackson said, hopefully. "i think i can talk with this chap a little in spanish." then followed a great picking of words to match gestures, and gestures to explain words, during which the full salute of the boy scouts of america was often repeated by the indian. then jackson said: "he says that there were boy scouts down here six months ago, and that he guided them through the mountain passes to the headwaters of the beni river. from there they went through to the valley of the amazon in a boat--a steam launch." jimmie reached under his waistcoat collar and produced his wolf badge, pointing to it with his finger inquiringly. the indian shook his head. "not wolves," the boy said, in a moment. "let's see if they were black bears." when a black bear badge which belonged to jack bosworth was shown the indian still shook his head. then he pointed to the sky and whirled his hand around significantly, finishing with a waving, flying motion. "i see!" cried jimmie. "they were eagles!" "this ought to help some," jackson observed, his face growing more cheerful. "of course it will," replied the boy. "ask him if he wants to get out of this blasted country and go to new york. we'll take him if he'll get us out on the east slope before ned gets back." jackson talked with the indian again, but did not seem to be able to come to terms with him. "he doesn't want to commit himself," the ex-cattleman said. "we'll have to wait until he thinks it over." the indian seemed moody and sullen for the next few hours. when dawn came and the little fire which had blazed in the cavern all night went out, he was called away and another native placed on guard. "that settles it," jimmie said. "we lose!" "i'm the losenest feller you ever seen," said jackson. "i never won a bet in my life. you're unlucky to get dumped in a mess with me." about the time ned and lyman landed in asuncion the boys in the cavern began looking for his return. they were not permitted to leave the cavern, but they watched the eastern sky intently every minute. they watched the sky, too, during the long days when ned was in prison at asuncion. late on the afternoon of the st, as the reader knows, ned searched the eastern slope for them but they did not see him. on the morning of the d they were taken from the cave and placed in full sight on the eastern slope, where they would be sure to be seen from the sky. they did not know what to make of this at first, but directly, when they saw indians, heavily armed, stationed in hiding places all about them, they understood. jimmie had expressed the situation exactly. the cowards were baiting their trap for ned with his friends. unless some means of warning him could be found, ned would drop down to his death if he landed to rescue the ones he had left behind. chapter xviii the end of a long chase on the d of august the nelson, with ned, jack, and frank on board, was sweeping over the mountains and valleys of bolivia and peru toward the twin valleys in which jimmie and jackson had been left. plenty of provisions and gasoline had been taken on at the hamlin storehouse, and the lads were well equipped for a week's cruise in the air. they did not urge the aeroplane to its fullest speed, nor did they remain in the air longer than a couple of hours at a time. it had been decided to strike the eastern slope of the range just before dawn, so the nelson was allowed to loiter on the way. jack afterwards declared that ned slept half the time! had the first decision, to run to the twin valleys as swiftly as possible, been held to, the two prisoners, guarded on that eastern slope, would have seen the nelson coming toward their relief. at the same time, on landing, ned and his companions would have been confronted with armed indians demanding immediate surrender. this would not have been according to the notions of the boys on the aeroplane, as they had figured that jimmie and jackson would be able to keep out of the hands of the collins gang. the d dawned slowly, with the nelson loitering over the great brown and green map of south america and the boys tiring their eyes looking for the glistening planes of the aeroplane. the captives were provided with food, but it was decidedly cold on the mountainside when night came. all that day and all that night the guards lay in wait in sequestered places, waiting for the nelson. although his only hope of immediate rescue lay in the arrival of the nelson, jimmie wished every minute of the time that ned would in some manner be warned away from that dangerous locality. just before dawn of the th jimmie, who had fallen into a light slumber, felt jackson pulling at his arm. "wake up!" the man whispered. "there is a light in the sky!" jimmie was on his feet in an instant. away off over a parallel ridge to the east, a ridge not so high as the one on which they stood, and which formed only a slight elevation in the general slope, a single light twinkled and swung up and down in the half light between night and morning. "that's the nelson, all right!" jimmie declared. "ned is coming! good old ned! now, what can we do to keep him from being murdered?" the boy added, tearfully. "i give it up!" replied jackson. "all we can do is to give them some signals and tell them to keep away." jimmie sprang out to one of the guards, who already stood erect, watching the light with his gun in his hand. the guard looked curiously at jimmie as he advanced, his hands clasping his shoulders, his body shivering as from extreme cold. the indian was cold, too, so it did not take him long to make out the boy's meaning. jimmie next pointed to sticks lying about, and to bunches of dry grass which stood in some of the crevices of the rocks. the guard nodded consent for a fire and jimmie raced about like mad collecting principally dry grass. jackson ran to help him, piling his gatherings all on one heap. "make three piles!" jimmie cried. "i want three fires! three bright fires! make three heaps!" the three heaps grew fast. they were not arranged in a row on a level, but mounted one above another on the slope. jimmies idea was to so place the fires one above the other, some thing like notches cut in a tree trunk. the reason for this is apparent. three fires in a line facing the point signaled to signal "good news." three notches cut in a tree trunk, one above another, mean "important warning!" now the question was, would ned understand that the fires represented warning notches, one above the other, and keep away until some safe plan for landing could be arranged? if he accepted the signal as "good news" signs, he would drop down to death. if he read them as jimmie intended he should, he would sail away and wait for a more favorable opportunity. when the three fires were going the indian guards gathered about in order to warm themselves. jimmie and jackson hovered near them, too, but they never shifted their eyes from the light in the sky. the nelson hovered over the elevation to the east for a second, and then, much to the amazement of the lad, whirled about and shot downward, out of sight. the guards watched the light as long as it showed and then turned to the fires again. daylight came swiftly, and a finger of sunlight lay on the crest of the mountains when the' machine was in the air again. it was, perhaps, three miles away, across deep and dangerous canyons which it would require hours of the hardest kind of traveling to cross on foot. sailing low, almost touching minor elevations at times, the great airship came on, straight to the spot where the boys stood--where the indians awaited them with guns in their hands! in a moment jimmie saw why this course was being taken. unless the rascals in the twin valleys had seen the light when it first appeared they would not see it at all, for the bulk of the mountain shut off their view of the rough country over which ned was traveling. ned did not seem to mind the fire signals. perhaps, jimmie thought, he had recognized the warning as a "good news" signal. in that case the boy thought, the end of everything, for them, would come right there! moving slowly and softly, with little noise of motor or propeller, the nelson approached the spot, circled about, and dropped in a little depression just below the place where jimmie was standing. then the strangest thing happened! the boy had expected to hear rifle shots, to see his friends attacked, perhaps murdered before his eyes. but the first one to spring from the machine was the indian who had given the boy scout salute some days before! the indians on guard saluted him gravely and stood eyeing the aeroplane critically. no hostile move was made. it was the strangest thing! where had ned taken the indian up, and why had the latter volunteered to render this assistance? it was no use to wonder, so jimmie and jackson sprang toward the machine, grasped ned by the hand, and swung into seats. the indian who had piloted the nelson to the place and prevented an attack by the guards, stood with his arms folded across his broad breast. for a moment ned grasped his hand. the others followed, with what emotion may well be understood, and the nelson was away, purring through the sweet air of the morning as if there were no perils at all in life! later revelations showed that the indian, wishing to protect the boy scouts, had made his way to the elevation where the nelson had first dropped down, signaled to ned, and informed him of the plans of the collins people. frank and jack had been left farther down the slope, as it was feared that the nelson would not be able to get away with so much weight to carry. it is almost needless to say that the indian was rewarded for his loyalty to the boy scouts, and that he carried back with him enough money to make each of the guards a substantial present. when the nelson first rose above the rim of the twin valleys shrill cries came from the direction of the cavern, and half a dozen shots were fired. but all to no purpose. the last the boys saw of collins and his adherents they were shouting angrily at the indians, who were rapidly disappearing from sight over the west wall. after a time the aeroplane dropped down again, and jimmie's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw jack and frank sitting complacently on a rock watching him with grins on their faces. the greeting of the three boys may well be imagined. "you're a nice bunch!" jimmie cried, after many handshakes and much pulling about. "we left you on the way to little old n.y. where you been?" "we just took a run in the black bear!" was the reply. "the black bear!" repeated the little fellow actually rubbing his eyes to see if he was awake. "where is the black bear?" "down in the madeira river," laughed ned, "and there's no knowing where she would have been by this time only for the--" "cut it out, ned!" broke in jack. "let us break it to him gently. he'll have fun enough with us without getting it all in a bunch!" jackson was introduced to the two boys, and then a council of war was held. it was finally decided that jackson should be taken to sicuani in the nelson and left there, with money enough to make his way out. pedro was found at sicuani and richly rewarded. he did not return to lima. then ned was to return for the boys and proceed straight to asuncion, where the search for the missing cattleman was to be renewed. this programme was carried out. later the boys met jackson in new york and royally entertained him at the black bear club room and saw that he secured a fine position. when the nelson reached asuncion ned proceeded directly to the office of the president, taking the boys with him. there the story of the trip was told, and frank and jack saw to it that ned's official position was made known to the head of the republic. "and so this mr. thomas q. collins is the man at the bottom of the trouble?" asked the official. "well, he will be taken care of if he returns here. and this military chief? he shall be sent out of the country!" it transpired later on that the president had been deceived in the two men, and that collins had secured the assistance of the general by false statements and by offers of large sums of money in case the cattle concession was taken from lyman. a good many officials were found to be mixed up in the conspiracy, and there were numerous vacancies in the government service. "and now," the president said, after the whole truth was known, "the next thing to do is to find lyman and restore him to his rights." "it seems to me," ned suggested, "that this general ought to be able to produce him in asuncion in a few hours' time." "it may be so," admitted the official. "at least, we'll see what can be done in that direction." lyman was safe in his home in one day. when the general learned that it was the wish of the president that the cattleman should be brought forth, the thing was as good as accomplished. "it seems to me," ned said to the boys, that night, "that this thing has been settled without much help from me. all the president needed was to be set right." "what he needed," laughed jack, "was the proof that collins had abducted lyman, and that he was prepared to prevent his return to asuncion until his concession had expired. perhaps you can tell me how all this proof could have been obtained if you had not undertaken the job offered you by the secret service men at san francisco?" "of course he can't," jimmie put in. "lyman man would have died there in the mountains and collins would have taken over his property. the president might have been in with the deal at first, but he certainly wasn't willing to stand for such coarse work." "and when lyman didn't show up, his heirs would have demanded the property, and then there would have been an international quarrel--perhaps work for gunboats," frank added. "i think the case was settled just right, and in the right way." "and what does this lyman person say?" asked jimmie. "not a thing!" cried jack. "he just offers ned all the money there is in the world in the shape of a reward. i should have taken it!" "i know better," ned commented. "we don't need his money, any more than we need the half million or so collins offered us." "wonder what collins will do now?" asked frank. "he'll duck!" replied jimmie. the little fellow was right. thomas q. collins was heard of no more, either in paraguay or peru. when ned, leaving the others at asuncion, speeded over to lima he found leroy and mike lounging about the hotel, waiting anxiously for news from their chums. they had been released on the day following collins' departure, there being no one to press the charge of assault and battery against them. now there was work cut out for the nelson. she carried ned, mike and leroy over to asuncion and then made two long trips to the little town on the madeira where the black bear lay. the meeting between the boys and harry was an enthusiastic one, and the latter pointed with a good deal of pride to the motor boat, good as new and as bright and clean as a new gold piece. after a few days spent exploring the country up the beni, the boys started home, their errand satisfactorily accomplished. jimmie decided to go with jack, frank, harry and mike in the motor boat, leaving the nelson to ned and leroy. "one thing i'd like to do," jimmie said, as the black bear lay waiting for the boys, "and that is to go up into that cannibal country and have some fun with the fellows who captured the black bear and made the occupants of it look like thirty cents in postage stamps!" "they never did capture the black bear!" yelled frank. "they tried to, and got dynamited for their pains. that's what they got." "and of course," tormented the little fellow, "you wished the nelson had stayed away, and left you all the glory--not!" "well," jack interposed, "we didn't get tied up in a mountain cave by a lot of cheap skates. we never got where we had to let an indian get us out of a mess." "rats!" shouted jimmie. "ned would have recognized our fire signals and remained away! we could have gotten off without the indian." "you say it well!" laughed frank. "i think that fire signal was punk!" and so the lads roasted each other all the way down the amazon, with the nelson sailing above them, dropping down at night and, perhaps, changing passengers each day. "i wish i had the frame of the vixen," leroy said, one day. "i could make a fine aeroplane out of it. shame to have an airship smashed like that!" ned pointed to the planes of the nelson. "you've got quite a job making this little lady look like new," he said. "those tent canvas planes look rather cheap." "i'll have the new planes in place in a week after we get back to new york," said the other. "and send the repair bill to the government," advised ned. "it will be paid without a cross word." at the mouth of the amazon the black bear was taken apart and packed aboard a fast steamer bound for new york. the five boys accompanied her, of course, while ned and leroy completed the trip home in the nelson. when the four reached the black bear club room they found ned there with a mass of letters and telegrams before him. "look here, lads," he said, "we've got more trouble on hand. you know about the revolution in china, and all that? well, there's a lot of gold which belongs to the republic been dumped in the sea, and i've got to go and help get it out!" "let 'em get their own gold," jimmie said. "but in this case, it is claimed that there was fraud in the shipment of gold, also, that the vessel carrying it was rammed for the purpose of concealing the fraud. anyway, uncle sam wants me to look it up." "what's he got to do with it?" asked frank. "something connected with the sub-treasury," laughed ned. "that is all i can say to you about it." "and how you goin' to get it?" demanded jimmie. "by working with a submarine," was the reply. "down in the bottom of the sea!" sang frank. "well," ned said, presently, "figure the thing out for yourselves. find out if you can get permission to go, and all that. the government will provide the submarine and all the supplies, of course, and land us near the spot we are to search." but the story of the search for the gold is quite another tale. it will be found in the third volume of this series, entitled: "boy scouts in a submarine; or, searching an ocean floor." the end [illustration: "thus they started in a line, yhon leading" ... page ] girl scouts in the adirondacks by lillian elizabeth roy author of the polly brewster books, the little washingtons books illustrated grosset & dunlap publishers new york made in the united states of america copyright, , by george sully & company _the girl scouts in the adirondacks_ _printed in the u. s. a._ contents chapter page i. the friday jinx ii. another day of troubles iii. in the mountains at last iv. a visit to grey fox camp v. a story of creation vi. lost on the trail vii. a little business viii. jake's interview with a skunk ix. lessons in tracking x. the girl scouts entertain xi. a canoe trip xii. first aid xiii. shooting the rapids--and other things xiv. the grand surprise illustrations "thus they started in a line, yhon leading" (page ) _frontispiece_ page "would you prefer to sit here and dream, betzy, or go back with me and eat sandwiches" "we are lost, come find us" "where--which way did you hear them?" questioned joan girl scouts in the adirondacks chapter one the friday jinx "are we ready to start, girls?" called mrs. vernon, the captain of dandelion troop of girl scouts, as she glanced at her protegées seated in two large touring cars. "ready! why, verny, we've been waiting for you these ten minutes," retorted juliet lee, one of the original members of the troop. "and we're just crazy to be off before that black cloud overhead adds to mother's fear lest i never come home again," added ruth bentley, another of the first four girl scouts of elmertown. "well, then, it seems that all the baggage and outfit we need with us on the trip is safely stowed away, eh, jim?" said mrs. vernon, looking at the driver of the other car. "everything that i found waiting to be packed when i drove up to the side door," replied the chauffeur. "all right! then we're off, folkses, but we'll send you word the moment we arrive at old forge in the adirondacks," called mrs. vernon, to the crowd of relatives of the various girls, all gathered to watch the scouts drive away. "good-by! good-by!" now shouted many girlish voices, and "good-by! good-by!" was shouted back as the two seven-passenger cars started on the long journey. mrs. vernon led the way in her luxurious automobile, and as they turned the bend of the road, where the last of the group still watching on the vernon lawn was lost to sight, she laughingly remarked: "i never thought a crowd of girls could get ready for such a long outing in so short a time." "it all depends on how badly the girls _want_ to be ready, captain," retorted joan allison, the fourth girl of the number who founded dandelion camp of girl scouts the summer before. "say, girls! i just felt a drop of rain from that inky cloud!" betty lee warned. she was julie's sister, and they were two who had first suggested a scout organization. mrs. vernon slowed down and turned to the scouts. "shall we stop to put on the rain-curtains?" "mercy, no! it's only a sprinkle, and we're not sugar," exclaimed joan, glancing at the sky. the other girls followed her gaze, and julie said: "see all the blue sky! enough to make the proverbial 'night-cap'." in case the reader has not yet met the four girls who had such a thrilling time while at camp the previous summer, it will be best to make their acquaintance now. as stated before, juliet and elizabeth lee were the two sisters who planned having a scout troop for girls in elmertown. joan allison and ruth bentley, both schoolmates of the lee girls, eagerly agreed to add their efforts to the others' and secure the interest of enough girls for them to be able to apply for a charter from the girl scout headquarters in new york city. before they closed their camp on "verny's mountain" that summer, five other girls had been admitted to membership in the young patrol, namely: hester wynant, fourteen; anne bailey, fourteen; judith blake, thirteen; her sister, edith blake, twelve; and amy ward, thirteen. then during the winter, other girls who had heard of the good times the scouts had had in camp that past summer became so insistent to mothers at home that permission to join the organization was granted them. having nine girls in their original patrol, with julie as leader, and joan for corporal, the scouts now felt experienced enough to pass all the tests required to apply for a troop charter. the young scouts were an active group and when the charter arrived from national headquarters the same day the girls had planned to start for camp, there was great rejoicing. true to his promise given the girl scouts the summer previous, mr. gilroy had sent word to mrs. vernon when the camp in the adirondacks was ready for them. when the girls found that mrs. vernon planned to use her large touring car for half of the number in the troop to go in, and ruth bentley's father had offered his car for the other half, thus saving them great expense for railroad tickets, and giving them the pleasure of autoing the whole long distance, the excitement rose and would not be calmed down again. so it was not only a happy troop that shouted good-by to relatives, but also a flushed, merry group of nine girls who could not keep silent for long. ruth was in the rear seat of her father's car, which jim was driving, when she suddenly sat up and called out to the chauffeur: "i'm sure one of our suitcases on the trunk-rack at the back must be loose, jim. i hear it bump about every time you go over a rough place in the road." "it can't be, miss ruth," returned jim, trying to peer out and see the baggage; "i strapped 'em on good and tight before we left." "well, it happens to be my suitcase that's on top, and i'm sure i don't want to lose it," declared ruth. "maybe we'd better stop and make sure about it; we can soon catch up with verny again," suggested judith. so jim sprang out to investigate. "the suitcases are all right, miss ruth, but somethin's wrong in the back all right." at that ruth jumped out and joined the man. "what is it?" asked she, anxiously. "the sag in that spring 'pears to me to say it is about done for. we'll have to travel slow till we find a garage." "for mercy's sake! didn't you and pa's chauffeur overhaul both the cars thoroughly when you knew we were going on this trip?" "your father sent this machine to the garage in elmertown, 'cause he said they'd know how to do the job up better'n us," explained jim. "then it serves dad right if he has to pay for a new spring! the idea of trusting strangers with his car at this important time! but here we are with a wornout old spring on our hands!" cried ruth, stamping her foot impatiently. "oh no, ruth, not on our hands--but what is ten times worse--on the rear end of the car," laughed hester. "well, we've got to go slow, i suppose, and stop somewhere to replace the old thing," grumbled ruth, climbing back in the car. "if 'liza knew of this mischance, wouldn't she gloat over her 'friday bad luck' prophecy?" laughed ann. jim started again, but carefully avoided the ruts and bumps in the road until he came to a large garage. fortunately for all, they found a new spring in stock and the men were soon at work replacing the bad one. "hurrah for us jinx-breakers! this bit of luck in finding a new spring on hand more than offsets a friday curse," gleefully cried ruth. "you young ladies sure are lucky, but it will take some time to do the work, an' you may as well take a walk and see our nice jersey town," suggested the proprietor of the garage. the scouts followed this sensible advice and stopped at a shop where they treated each other to soda, candy, and peanuts. there being nothing more thrilling to do, they sat down in the park and ate the plebeian delicacy and talked. "i love peanuts, don't you?" anne asked of the girls. "yes, but they have to be enjoyed away from home, or folks will make fun of you," added ruth. "not any more, ruth. when a five-cent bag of peanuts, these days, only contains ten nuts that lifts them out of the cheap class," laughed hester. "and makes them a luxury, eh?" added judith. by the time the peanuts were gone, jim signaled the girls and they hurried back to the garage. it took but a moment for them to jump in and urge jim to hurry after verny's car, somewhere in the lead. mile after mile of beautiful woodland, with now and then a small town, but with many flourishing farms along the way, were reeled off rapidly as the machine sped along as if on wings. finally they reached a crossroad where the signboard warned them: "all travel limited to eight miles per hour." "slow down, jim, or you'll land us in a county jail," called ruth. "then mrs. vernon must be in jail--'cause she ain't in sight along the road, and to get as far as this she _had_ to speed," declared jim. "it's funny she wouldn't stop to find out what became of us, when we dropped so far behind," ventured hester. "they'll look us up at mealtime, never fear," laughed anne. "we've got the hamper with us, you know." the others laughed at this remark, but they had not gone much farther along the road before they spied the vernon automobile waiting under a great oak tree. when the tardy car came up, both parties began to shout, some asking where the delinquents had been, and the unfortunates to demand why folks wouldn't look behind once in a while! finally jim could make himself heard, and he explained about the spring and where they had to stop to replace the old one. "well, _we_ stopped to discuss ways. we ought to decide the route we want to take before we reach jersey city," said mrs. vernon. "which is the route you'd chose, verny?" added ruth. "well, we can save a lot of time by going along to edgewater and cross on the fort lee boat. that takes us right to th street and broadway, new york. we avoid all crowds and city streets, but you will not see anything of the life and bustle of new york city." "how much time will we save?" asked julie. "because we've lost so much over that old spring," added ruth. mrs. vernon smiled. "from upper new york we can drive right onto the state road that runs direct to albany. by selecting that way we will save a great deal of time, because traffic in the city is so congested that every driver has to travel slow and fall in line back of endless cars. at every corner when the signal holds up the entire line one has to stop to permit crosstown traffic a chance." "then for goodness' sake, let's go through the country on this side of the hudson, and cross where you said--fort lee ferry," declared julie. every one agreeing to this decision, the plan was carried out as outlined by the captain. once on broadway, where it passes van cortlandt park, the girls called to mrs. vernon. "how about lunch--we're famished?" "oh, don't let's stop here for lunch. let's go on till we find a nicer spot in the country," returned joan. "maybe there won't be any better place," demurred judith. "oh, yes, there is. after we leave yonkers we will find lots of spots, verny says," called julie, from the first car. "we need a shady place where a spring will give us water," said betty. "a spring failing to bubble up at the proper place, we may have to be satisfied with a pump at some farmhouse," retorted her sister. the two cars sped swiftly along broadway, through yonkers, hastings-on-hudson, and dobb's ferry. at this last place the captain pointed out the famous old headquarters used by general washington at the close of the revolution. "girls, there doesn't seem to be any picnic grounds for us along this state road," remarked mrs. vernon. "suppose we take a bite as we travel along, and cook a regular dinner when we are out in the country somewhere?" "we're willing, in fact, i am more than willing to eat," called anne, the scout with the healthy appetite. so they drove on while refreshments were passed around, and every one admired the river scenes of the ever-changing panorama of the hudson. just beyond peekskill the road ran under a culvert and a sharp turn on the other side made it impossible to see what was on the road ahead. the captain made the turn very neatly and jim was about to follow the leading car, when several shrill cries from the girls ahead caused him to put on the emergency brakes. the passengers in the second car could just see what had caused the frightened shouts from their friends in the first car. a gaunt farm horse was standing on his hind legs pawing the air madly, while a rickety old spring wagon seesawed uncertainly on the edge of a deep ditch beside the road. but the driver of the horse was on the road, hanging on to the bridle while plying a stout hickory stick freely over the animal's back. "git down! will yuh come to arth, yuh rascal?" shouted the irate woman who was garbed in a man's farm hat and a long duster. "do you need any assistance?" called mrs. vernon, anxiously. "not ef i kin git him to plant his feet on arth agin. he ain't got no spunk left to run away, 'cause he's ben out plowing all day, and it w'ar a shame to drive him to the store. but it hed to be, 'cuz the ole man tuk t'other hoss to go to a meetin'." as the unusual character talked, she tugged at the bridle until she finally had the horse quieted down again. then he allowed his long ears to droop lazily, his spine to sag in the middle, and his erstwhile springy legs to bend as if he felt too weary to stand up. the woman with the weather-beaten face and toughened hands was a fluent speaker, even though she paid little attention to the latest style in dress for women. she leaned against the shaft of the wagon and plied her questions to the tourists as freely as she had plied the hickory stick to the horse. "be you-all out fer a lark?" asked she, eyeing the number of girls in both cars. jim thought to move his car gradually along the road so the scouts in his charge could join in the conversation with the woman. but the moment the horse saw the automobile crawling towards him, he jumped aside. the wagon-wheel turned suddenly and the unexpected happened; the woman who had been leaning heavily on the wheel was unceremoniously dropped to a sitting posture in the dusty road. several of the scouts had to smother with handkerchiefs, a keen desire to laugh, but the owner of the horse seemed to take the situation good-naturedly. "wal, ef that ain't jus' like samson! he does the mos' onexpected tricks, so's that he keeps us guessin' what next." jim sprang out of the car when he saw the result of his innocent action with the engine, but the agile woman was up before he could reach her side. she brushed the dust from her long coat and chuckled aloud: "i allus said that animal oughter be called delilah 'cuz _she_ was so sly, but my ole man says 'samson' was close enough to that critter, and this animal hez such long hair that it suits with the name." "you've just had him clipped, i see," ventured mrs. vernon. "not clipped, captain--but shorn of his locks like samson," laughed julie. "maybe that's why he feels so tired," added joan, quickly. every one but the farmer's wife laughed. she seemed very serious over the conversation, and nodded her head affirmatively. "well, we have to drive on, madam, but we're sorry to have frightened samson," said mrs. vernon, in order to make an end to the scene. "say, couldn't you tell us where there is a nice picnic place near here?" called jim, as the first car started. "yeh--a few miles furder on. you'll find a nice little brook in a grove of sugar-maples, with green grass on all sides." jim thanked the woman, and started his car. mrs. vernon was informed of the grove which was to be a stopping place for dinner, and all were eagerly on the lookout for the spot that would offer such an ideal resting place. but it was the longest "few miles" any of the scouts had traveled, for the meter showed many, many miles before any grove was seen. there was no brook in it, but the grass was very green, and the maple grove, which crowded a knoll a short distance from the road, looked cool and inviting. as usual, julie was the first one out of the cars and over the fence. she started to cross the very green grass, but instantly sank into the water that was hidden under the green blades. "help! oh, i'm drowning!" shouted she, struggling to pull her feet clear of the bog. but she would free one foot, and instantly the other would sink. then she tried to drag that one out, but the first one would go down again. both together she could not get out. "oh, oh! see the mess poor julie's in!" called one of the girls. mrs. vernon was gazing quickly around for some sort of help to get the scout out, but the girls stood about the place sympathizing with the furious scout. "is it like that all over there, julie?" called betty, anxiously. "how do i know? come over and find out for yourself!" snapped her sister. the girls laughed at the retort, but betty added: "i only wanted to know if it was safe for me to come over and help you out." julie straightened up and glared at her soft-hearted sister. "you sound just like our sunday school teacher when she reads: 'come over into macedonia and help.'" again the audience of girls laughed appreciatively, but julie was too busy keeping her feet "treading water" to pay any attention to their enjoyment. meantime, jim had removed some rails from the fence and was bringing them to the scout's aid. "now, miss julie, when i shove these over, you manage to work an arm over each one, and sort of lift yourself out that way. i'll shove others over for you to step on next, and in that way you can get out and across to us," advised jim, working as he spoke. finally julie was rescued from the mire, and then the captain said: "every one walk along that elevated bank, over there, to reach the grove, as this entire area may be a boggy spring." but the grass under the trees in the grove was found to be hard and dry, and they soon began to prepare luncheon. while mrs. vernon unpacked the hamper, the scouts were detailed on various duties: some to build a fire, some to hunt spring water, some to set table on the grass. but julie was excused from all these tasks, as she had more than enough work to do in cleaning the mud from her boots and stockings. when luncheon was almost ready, judith and amy, who had been sent to find the spring and bring back drinking water, reported: "we couldn't find any spring." julie looked up and jeered: "you are fine scouts! couldn't find a spring when all you have to do is to find the source of all that water where i went down!" "water! that looked like mud," retorted judith. "we'll go for the water," volunteered joan, catching hold of betty's sleeve to take her along. so they started, and as julie had said, the spring that fed the boggy spot was not far back in the grove. the water gurgled down from a cleft in a huge rock, and on either side of the small pool wood violets dipped their fragrant petals into the sparkling mirror. betty sat down upon a flat rock beside the pool to enjoy the scene. but practical joan filled the pail with cold water and then laughed at poetical betty. "would you prefer to sit here and dream, betty--or go back with me and eat ham sandwiches?" "oh, i forgot where i was," laughed betty, rising reluctantly to help carry the pail of water. "that's what i thought," tittered joan, "but the rest of the girls prefer something more solid than dreams." during the luncheon the captain said: "wouldn't it be splendid if each one of us kept a diary of what happens during this summer's camp? then we can rewrite the facts when we go home and make a good story of it. perhaps a real publisher will buy it from us and thus give us a fund for next year's outing--if we have one." "oh, that is great!" exclaimed several voices with girlish enthusiasm. "well then, when we camp to-night, we'll jot down the episodes of the day's trip--not forgetting to dwell at length on 'samson,' and julie's side-plays," remarked the captain, smilingly. "has any one thought of a stopping place for the night?" asked jim. "not definitely, jim; but i hope to cross the river at poughkeepsie and drive along the west shore as far as possible. then we can pitch camp at any good place we find," replied the captain. they had not gone much farther before ruth called: "it looks as if the rear tire on verny's car was flat!" the captain slowed up, and every one tried to see the tire. "that's what it is, all right, captain!" ejaculated jim, impatiently. "dear me! that means another delay!" sighed several girls. the car had to be jacked up and jim went to work to mend the puncture in the tube, then pumped and pumped until the tire was properly inflated once more. as the tourists climbed into their respective seats in the automobiles, joan said: "well, captain, this wasn't such a bad day after all--in spite of being a friday." "i'm thankful for it, too," sighed betty, fervently. the cars made good time after that and passed over the ferry at poughkeepsie, to travel northward on the road that ran along the west shore. they pitched camp in some woods and soon had a fire started to heat the canned soup they had brought. when all else was ready, the captain banged upon a tin pan to call the scouts to dine. "um! that tomato soup smells good!" exclaimed joan, sniffing audibly, as she saw the contents of the pan that stood over the fire. "will you serve it, jo--you are nearest the pan?" said mrs. vernon, passing the basket that held the tin cups. "here! everybody hold up a mug to fill, while i come around with the pan!" ordered joan, taking hold of the pan-handle that had been over the fire a long time. "oo-oouch!" cried the girl, whipping her hand up and down as she danced wildly about. "you didn't spill the soup, i hope!" exclaimed anne, with deep concern. "what difference would that make--a little cheap soup? but my hand--oh, it's got a trail blazed clean across the palm!" wailed joan, showing her red-skinned hand to sympathizing friends. "poor old scout! we have to learn all kinds of blazing, i suppose," murmured julie. "and the soup _is_ all safe--jo never dropped the pan!" declared anne, with gratification in her tones. "here, miss jo," said jim, who had gone for a bottle kept in the kit. "pour this olive oil all over the hand and the smart will soon stop." he hurried to give the bottle to joan but his toe caught in a bramble and tripped him. the bottle flew from his hand and struck the root where joan sat. the glass shattered and the oil ran out the grass at the scout's feet. [illustration: "would you prefer to sit here and dream, betzy, or go back with me and eat sandwiches" ... page ] "well, well! it must be the friday jinx that still pursues us," remarked jim, gazing regretfully at the glistening oil that formed beads on the blades of grass. the girls laughed merrily, but mrs. vernon seemed serious. she was about to speak, when amy asked joan to pass the crackers. she picked up the box that was nearest her, and turned to hand them to her next neighbor, when her foot slipped on the oily grass and she sat down suddenly upon the stump. the box fell in hester's lap, but joan clapped a hand over her mouth and smothered a howl. "goodness me! what's the matter now, jo!" cried ruth, seeing the girl's convulsed face. joan shook her head helplessly, but her eyes were filled with tears. every one wondered what could have happened, and when the scout could speak she said thickly: "oh, that oil! i slipped and bit the end of my tongue clear off--i'm sure of it!" "stick it out and let's see," demanded ruth. "that's what comes of having too much of a good thing!" declared julie, teasingly. every one but the captain laughed, and she said seriously: "do you know, girls, that i've had an idea about all this talk over friday being a 'bad luck' day. of course it is perfectly absurd to intelligent people, but there are enough superstitious folk left in the world who actually think friday has some power to bring ill luck with it. "now i believe that it is the _fear_ and general belief in the superstition that carries any weight with it. if we, as good intelligent scouts, will try to break this silly fear for others, we shall have to begin with ourselves, by not referring to the superstition with the sense of its having _any_ power to act." the girls listened seriously, as they always did when their captain started one of her "sermonettes" as julie called them; and when she had concluded, joan said: "in other words, you want us to starve the poor wraith still more by withdrawing any thoughts from the matter whatever?" "exactly! you've worded it better than i could have done myself," responded the captain, emphatically. when supper was over and everything about camp had been prepared for the night, joan suggested taking a stroll down the picturesque country road. the gloaming was so inviting that the scouts decided to saunter down the woodsy road. they continued along the inviting footpath for more than a mile before they noticed a heavy fog settling upon everything. "better turn and go back, girls. this fog is obscuring everything along the way," suggested mrs. vernon. "b-r-r-r! isn't it damp!" shivered joan. "yes, and it will be worse before we get home," added judith. they retraced their steps, but the fog came thicker and heavier all the time, and before they had gone more than half the way back, it was necessary for the scouts to go single file in order to keep in the footpath that ran along the top of a high grassy bank beside the narrow road. "it would be so much simpler to hike along the road, verny," suggested hester. "but there are so many machines traveling back and forth, and we'd have to scramble up this wet slippery bank to get out of the way every time one rushed past," explained julie. julie was in front, heading the line. being scout leader of the troop, she naturally led in most things. suddenly she stopped short and warned those back of her: "look out for this big boulder right in the pathway--have to detour towards the fence!" "boulder! why, there wasn't any boulder here on our way over," argued ruth. "the fog's in julie's eyes," laughed joan. "maybe we didn't notice a rock before," ventured amy. "maybe we are on the wrong road," said anne. "we're right, all right, but i see a boulder in the way. if you don't believe me, come here and sprain your toe kicking it!" a few of the scouts crowded in front to peer through the puzzling fog to see the questionable boulder, but it unexpectedly got upon its clumsy feet and started for the girls. in the fog it loomed up as big as an elephant. "murder! fire! help! help!!" came in confused screams from the scouts in front, as they turned precipitously to flee from this unknown danger. the confusion, as they fell back upon the scouts behind, while the great "boulder" still advanced slowly, was awful! but the soft earth of the bank had been washed out from under the top layer of roots and grass, and when so many stamping, crowding girls brought their weight upon the crumbling ground, it caved in with them. jumping, screaming, tumbling scouts now went headlong down the slide of five feet into the roadway. the captain and betty had been far enough in the rear to escape this general stampede, but they, too, saw the dark object trying to skirt the newly broken-down embankment, and they slid quickly down the wet weedy bank to get away from this ghostlike creature that crept towards them. while brave scouts were getting up from the little ditch where they had rolled, a plaintive call from the "boulder" above identified the creature as belonging to the bovine kingdom. a second "moo-oo," as the cow passed slowly down the bank to the road, where she hoped to find some one to lead her home, created a wild laugh from every one. chapter two another day of troubles early in the morning the scouts heard jim rattling the pans while he essayed to cook breakfast. they were soon up and dressed, and being ready for another day's adventuring, they offered their services to the cook. "last night after you-all went for that hike, i mooned around some myself. i saw a little farmhouse over that hill, and i think a couple of girls might try to get some milk for breakfast," suggested jim, pointing over the brow of a slight grade. "all right, hester and i will go for it, verny!" exclaimed amy. "very well, girls; the rest of us will do what we can to help jim. breakfast will be all ready by the time you return, so don't dawdle on the way, will you?" replied the captain. "take the big thermos bottle that will keep the milk cold all day, and bring the breakfast milk in this pail," suggested julie, handing the girls both articles as she spoke. hester and amy disappeared over the brow of the hill where jim said the farm was located, but breakfast was ready and waiting a long time before a sight of the girls was had again. hester carried the pail very carefully, and amy held the bottle, so it was evident that they had milk, but why should they seem to laugh so merrily over something, as they drew near the scouts? "what do you think happened to us?" called amy. "you'll never guess--we got chased by a bull!" added hester. "oh, never!" cried the scouts who had been waiting anxiously. "yes, sir! we heard a cow and knew there must be a farm," began amy excitedly, but her companion interrupted her and said: "that wasn't a cow we heard, but the bellow of this bull!" "do tell us all about how you escaped," chorused the eager voices of many girls. every one was anxious to wait on the heroines, and after they had been served everything at one time, they began to munch and talk. "well, first we left here and thrashed through those bushes back there," said hester, nodding her head towards the alder bushes, "to reach the place where we heard the cow--as we thought." here hester choked over the egg, and amy quickly took up the story: "and we were halfway across a pasture lot when hester, who was first, yelled wildly and waved her arms. i looked up, 'cause i was watching where i walked, the lot was pawed up into such hummocks, and saw hester racing for the low boughs of an apple-tree. then i heard a thumping, and saw a big bull charging across the meadow, making straight for us!" amy gasped and needed a drink of water, then hester continued the tale: "oh, girls, it was thrilling! i managed to scramble up in the apple-tree, and turned to see what had become of amy. there she was, sprinting like a marathoner for the barbed-wire fence that enclosed the lot. she back-trailed over to it, and up over it she went, just like a swallow flies, but look at her stockings and skirt!" every one looked at amy's apparel and sympathized with her, yet every scout wished she had had such an exciting time. "now they can win a badge for story-telling, can't they, verny?" said betty, glad for her two pals. "and another one for mending," laughed julie, vindictively. "poor julie's awful sore about that mud," murmured amy, winking an eye at the others. every one laughed, but the captain said: "go on and finish the yarn." "well, i left hester in the tree--safety first, you know--with the bull standing under it, waiting for her, while i skirted the lot and reached the house. when i told the old lady how we happened to be in such a fix, she threw her gingham apron over her head and sat down on the doorstep to laugh. "i was beginning to feel offended, when she glanced up. she understood, and said: 'deary, that ole bull has to be helped to his stall every night after a day in the pastoor. he oughter been butchered years an' years ago, but you see he saved me from a wicked tramp one day, an' father sayed bill had earned his life-pension fer that. so bill's safe from the slaughter-house, but he sure is a nuisance these days. why, this mad run of his'n will keep him wheezin' fer a hull week. now come with me an' i'll show you how he's payin' the price fer actin' like a three-year-old!" "i followed the old lady to the fence, and there, sure enough! bill was sprawled out under the tree, puffing for breath, but poor hester sat in the branches wailing because she dared not come down while the bull was making such a snorting noise!" the scouts laughed heartily at the graphic picture of hester crying up in the tree, but the girl retorted, "well, isn't 'discretion the better part of valor'?" "of course it is! we'd have done the same thing," agreed mrs. vernon, still laughing at amy's story. then she suggested breaking camp. after cleaning away all signs of camping, the scouts climbed into the cars which were soon speeding along. they were keen, now, for something new that they could write in their diaries, and many interesting things were seen and dilated upon as they rode past. as the autos neared schenectady, one of the scouts began singing; in a few moments all the girls were singing with her. but a hound ran out of the gate of a farmhouse and barked at the oncoming singers. then the distracted dog sat down and lifted his snout high in the air. his dismal prolonged howl of protest at such singing effectually ended the song, and julie called to the animal, "wise doggy--to be able to tell singing from _singing_!" the weather was all that could be desired, and the two cars were in fine shape for the run. after they left amsterdam, where the large carpet-mills would have offered interesting entertainment had not the scouts a greater ambition in view, that of reaching camp--they voted to stop for no sightseeing along the way. so they kept along the road to fonda. here they left the railroad turnpike and went northward to johnstown. at this place mrs. vernon made an error in judgment. she should have gone westerly, through rockwood, lascelville, oppenheim, and so on to delgeville. but she took the northward road, which looked better and was more traveled. not until she came to gloversville did she realize the mistake. then she stopped and questioned a policeman how to reach her destination. and he explained about the country road she must follow due west in order to reach rockwood, where the state roads would be picked up again. this advice was followed, and they traveled over the bad road until a crossroad was reached. there was no mention made of this spot on the road-map, and there was no signpost to direct a lost tourist. so the captain said, "we'll take the right-hand turn, it looks best." further on, the road descended and ran close to a river. "dear me, i hope we didn't take the wrong turn, anyway!" cried mrs. vernon. "that officer never told me about a crossroad." "and it's going to pour, too. just look at that black cloud," said joan. "it hasn't thundered yet," hester said, trying to be cheerful. at the same moment a flash satisfied every one that a shower was imminent, and jim failed to relieve their fears when he said, "we don't want to get caught on this low land when it rains. the road is lower than the river and will soon be flooded over." that spurred on the captain, and she made the car fairly fly, in order to reach higher ground before the shower came. but the storm won out. "i felt a drop of rain!" called julie. "so did i--two drops more!" seconded ruth. "we'd better stop to button down the rain-curtains, captain," advised jim. "maybe we can reach high ground soon, jim!" called back mrs. vernon, still speeding along the marshy road. a loud peal of thunder and inky clouds warned her, however, that this would be no trifling shower, so she stopped reluctantly for the curtains to be fastened down over the sides of the cars. the girls got out while the rain-curtains were sought in the box under the seat, and jim removed numerous items before he reached them in the bottom. "gee! everything under the sun was piled in here!" growled he. and by the time he did get the covers out, the rain was falling hard. while jim and mrs. vernon secured the curtains on the buttons, the scouts transferred the pyramid of camping necessities back into the boxes under the seats. then when all were snugly sheltered from the rain, the captain proceeded to start her car. it failed to respond, however. she tried again, with no success. then she turned and called to jim. "something must be wrong, jim!" "mebbe it's 'cause the wheels is sunk so deep in that soft mud," said he. "it's 'most up to the hubs." "no--something is wrong with the engine," returned she. "i'll slip on my oilskin and see," said jim, finally. "oh, jim! don't slip on it--just _put_ it on," giggled julie, the irrepressible. "humph!" was all the reply she got at the stale joke. "jim, i'll help you," now offered betty, willingly. "you gals just sit still, will you?" growled jim impatiently, as he jumped out into the muddy road. the wind came tearing down the valley that lay between the mountains, driving shreds of storm-clouds before it. gusts of rain dashed against jim's face as he peered and poked about the stubborn engine, but still the obstinate machine refused to budge. "i can't see a durn thing that's the matter with it!" shouted he, trying to make himself heard above the whistling of the wind. "better get back in your car until the worst is over," called back mrs. vernon. so they all waited patiently for the rain to cease, but the storm grew worse, while the clouds seemed to fairly empty themselves right over the stalled cars. suddenly jim gave a frightened cry: "great scott, captain! the river's overflowin' her banks, and this road's gettin' under water!" "then we've just _got_ to get out of this fix somehow!" wailed mrs. vernon, gazing helplessly around for aid. "i'll try to work my car close up to the other and see if i can't push you ahead," suggested jim, starting his engine as he spoke. but this idea failed to render the assistance they looked for. "i think you need a good hard impact to send you out of that mud. the wheels are stuck," called julie, who had been considering the plight. "but how can we _get_ an impact? jim can't crush in the radiator on his car, you know! and the fender won't do it," said ruth. "let a few of us get some of those stout rails from that fence and shove them under the back of the machine. the rest of the girls can tie a rope to the front and pull. then when we give a signal, jim can push with his machine, while verny throws hers into high--something ought to happen with all that!" suggested julie. anything seemed better than sitting helplessly while seeing the water slowly rising in the roadway. so the plan proposed by julie was put into operation. two long rails were shoved, one under each side of the back of the car, with two scouts ready to apply all their youthful muscle up on each rail. four scouts stood in front holding to a rope, ready to pull. the captain sat at the wheel ready to speed, and jim waited in his car behind, ready to drive on. "now, when i yell 'go,' every one strain your muscles fit to crack. it's the only way we'll get out of this," ordered julie. "tell us when you're going to say 'go'!" begged ruth. "i'll shout 'one, two, three--go'--then _go_!" julie braced herself, took a deep breath, and cried, "all ready--one, two, three--go!" four in front pulled with might and main. mrs. vernon's engine chugged ready to break. jim almost pushed the radiator in, and the four scouts pushing on the rails--well, "they were not." jim was heard roaring unrestrainedly, while four girls in front were standing and staring as if at an apparition. all the time, the rain fell in a deluge, but mrs. vernon jumped out into the mud to see what had happened at the rear. then she, too, gasped. both the rails were completely worm-eaten, but how should girls have known that? they were placed under the car at a dangerous angle for their future use in the fence, and when the good strong muscles of four scouts brought their weight upon the rails to lift the car somewhat, the timber quickly split up and precipitated the four boosters, face downward, in the mud. "oh, dear me! this is the last straw!" moaned mrs. vernon. "no--the last rails!" sputtered julie, trying to laugh. "girls--hold your faces up to the rain and it will wash the mud from your eyes!" yelled judith, who waited on the running board for further developments. she had hardly spoken when a swift shaft of blinding light and a deafening crack of thunder sent a panic into every one. they were stunned for a moment, and then such a howl as went up from nine lusty throats! "we're struck!" yelled some. "oh, we're killed!" added others, but it took only a second after they had caught their breaths to pile, willy-nilly, into the cars, where they huddled until the fright had subsided. shortly after the lightning had struck a large tree further up the road, the rain suddenly stopped and the sun shone out as hot and bright as ever. "my! i feel like pollyanna would," sighed julie. "'i'm glad, _glad_, glad' we weren't standing under that tree!" "we can only die once," responded ruth, sighing as she gazed down at the flooded road. "ruth thinks she'd rather die quickly, than by slow degrees in being choked in this mud," laughed julie, catching ruth's thought. every one laughed and that made them feel more cheerful. then just back of them came the sound of horses' hoofs and a kindly voice called out, "well, well, this is some plight you-all are in, eh?" they turned and beheld a nice old man sitting astride one plow-horse and leading a second. "reckon you didn't know this was one of the worst roads in the county when it rains." mrs. vernon explained how it came about that they were there, and the old man said, "fortunately, i cut across that field in order to reach home. i was late and, as this is meeting night, i have to leave home earlier than usual. now i can help you pull out, 'cause my team is pretty powerful." he hitched his horses to the front of the stalled car, and it was soon pulled up on higher ground where jim could crawl under and see what was wrong with the works. "we are most grateful to you, sir, for your timely help," said mrs. vernon. "how much do we owe you for this great service?" "i'm glad i could help, madam. i am the parson of the district, hereabouts, and i try to do good by the wayside as i walk this life-road." "then, if you will not accept a gift for yourself, you cannot refuse it for your flock. we will give to any needy one in your parish," said mrs. vernon, handing him a folded bill. being sent along the right road with the minister's directions and blessing, the cars soon reached rockwood, and from there, followed the usual route to delgeville. the highway now ended, and a pretty country road took its place as far as salisbury, where a turnpike road began and continued as far as middleville. from the latter town onward, the roads were indifferent or bad as far as gravesville. there were many interesting experiences for the scouts to write up in their books later on, such as running into a balky herd of cows and being threatened for damages by the farmer; holding their breaths when mrs. vernon ran over a lot of broken glass sprinkled across the road--but the tires held and no damage was done; stopping to bargain for a string of fish that a little freckled-face boy had for sale; and last, but not least, just before reaching gravesville, being warned by a girl of twelve of a masquerading constable, further up the road, who arrested more speeding drivers than any other constable in the county. when asked why she showed the scouts this partiality, the girl said: "because i'm going to be a scout myself, as soon as that new manual gets here. i wrote fer it t'other day, and i've got five schoolgirls ready to start with me. maw says she will ask the teacher to be our captain." thereupon followed a good scout talk by mrs. vernon, the country girl listening with all her wits alert. "how'd you know we were scouts?" asked julie, curiously. "by that pennant flyin' in front, of course!" retorted the girl. as the scouts drove away, mrs. vernon said, "she'll make a first-class scout, because she uses her eyes and other faculties." after leaving the town of gravesville, the scouts took a short cut to prospect, but the roads were steep and rough, and it was all the engines could do to mount the grades. then the opposite down slopes were so steep and sudden that it was necessary to put on all brakes and shut off the engines. one of these down grades had a sharp turn at the bottom, with a purling stream running under a rustic bridge immediately at the base of the mountain. on the other side of the bridge, the road rose abruptly up the side of another mountain. the descent was made nicely and the captain's car crossed the bridge, but jim's car stopped unexpectedly just as it reached the bridge at the foot of the mountain. "another case of push!" laughed julie. "all out!" ordered jim. "what now?" called mrs. vernon, as she also stopped her car to ask what was wrong. "if only your car was behind, you could shove us across the bridge, but there isn't enough room in this trap to do anything." "every one will have to help, jim; the girls can push and pull the car back to the grade, while you work the engine. maybe it will start that way," suggested mrs. vernon, waving her passengers out to help the stranded car. after half an hour's work, jim suddenly called, "my! what a lot of cotton-heads we are! here, captain, just back up and give us a tow across the bridge--that's all!" at this simple remedy every one laughed. the steep climb of the mountain was accomplished without trouble, and there the road wound back and forth like a serpent's trail. rocks, weighing tons, overhung with lovely vines, jutted out from the sides of the cut-out road that edged the cliff. again, mossy dells where maidenhair fern waved fragile fronds at the girls, nestled under giant groups of pines. the chorus of wild birds mingled with the subdued music of falling water, to the keen appreciation of the tourists who delighted in this impressive scene as only scouts can. the cars continued slowly through this peaceful place, but jim's engine suddenly stopped short again. he frowned and got out to examine it. "gee, captain! the tank needs gas and no place at hand to buy the feed. what shall i do?" "we didn't cross that other bridge until we came to it," giggled julie, quickly. "i suppose i've got to tow you along until we find gas, somewhere," said mrs. vernon. so the second car was harnessed to the leader and they started again. in this manner they traveled until they came to a small settlement that boasted an "emporium" where all the "latest styles and goods were sold." on the front porch of this store, in a low rocking-chair, sat the owner, a lady of doubtful years. she jumped up spryly when the cars stopped at the steps, and smiled invitingly. "do you sell gasoline?" asked mrs. vernon, politely. "i guess i kin oblige you," replied the lady, going indoors. jim jumped out and began to unscrew the plug on the tank. "now who'd a thought we could get gas in this little shop?" declared ruth, surprised. "you never can tell! i s'pose she wants to make all she can in every way," added hester. meantime the lady returned to the door and called out, "won't you please step this way?" jim thought she had to fill a measure from some barrel in the back, so he went in. but the lady was searching diligently along a shelf of bottles until she saw the one she wanted. "here they be--i knew i had 'em somewhere. one's ten cents, and the other's a twenty-five cent bottle. but you have to take keer of fire, you know." jim scratched his head, as he said, "i'll take a five-gallon can, please, ma'am." for a second, the old lady was amazed, but she rose to the occasion and showed herself a true business woman, "oh, i'm sorry, i'm just out of that size to-day, but can't you come back to-morrow--i'll have it then?" jim laughed. "i need it for the tank. the car won't go on nor come back, unless i get some gas for it." "oh! i thought you wanted some to clean gloves, or shoes. that's the only kind i keep on hand." "maybe you can tell us where we can get a gallon or so," said jim, trying hard to keep a straight face. "if you kin wait until jed gits back i kin send him to prospeck junction for a gallin. he can't carry five gallins, i fear." jim started out and the shopkeeper followed as she spoke. so mrs. vernon asked, "where is prospect junction?" "jus' over yander, a bit of ways. it's quite a gay resort, i've hear'd jed say, where they sells gas to riders what come through. but i hain't never gone there, 'cause i don't mingle with society. i am a church member and 'tends to my business." the lady tossed her head with a self-righteous air as she said the last words. jim said: "i'm sorry that four-ounce bottle wouldn't do, missus." and the scouts bowed as they left her standing on the "stoop." chapter three in the mountains at last the scouts finally reached old forge, where they had been due a full day sooner. mr. gilroy was worried at their non-appearance and had telephoned to their homes to learn that they had left on time. then he followed them along their route and at some places he heard they had stopped and gone again, and at others that they had not yet arrived. but the moment the girls saw him and heard his complaint, they laughed at his concern. "nice way to treat your adopted father--laugh at him, because he worried over his girls!" said he in pretended grievance. "but what could possibly happen when we had jim and verny at the wheels?" asked ruth. "that's just it! with the captain leading, i was sure you would be jailed for speeding, and would need me to bail you out," teased he. "we needed baling out when we got in the river-flood, but not in jail!" laughed julie. "if we had dreamed you had a 'phone way up here, we would have called you to help us, that time," added joan. then the story of the mud and flood had to be told, while mr. gilroy sat on the side-door of the car and directed the captain which road to take to reach his bungalow. "did our outfits get here all right, mr. gilroy?" asked ruth. "yes, and they have been down at your camp several days now," replied their host. "how far is our camp from your bungalow, mr. gilroy?" asked betty. "not very far--just a nice walk. your camp is right on the shore of one lake, while my bungalow is on the shore of first lake, one of the fulton chain, you know." the scouts then learned that mr. gilroy's estate extended from first lake, where his bungalow was built, across country to little moose lake where their camp was to be. this was a distance of about three-quarters of a mile between the two places. "we'll stop at the bungalow first and give you a good square meal after all your experiences; then we'll go on over to camp. when your baggage is all out of the cars, jim and i will drive back to my garage where the machines can stand." "oh, jim is going back home with dad's car, to-morrow," said ruth. "and verny is going to keep hers here for the summer," added julie. the cold luncheon had been waiting a long time, and when the scouts finally arrived they did justice to the viands. then, every one being eager to see the new camp-site, they started for the lake. here everything was in order to receive the tenants. three fine tents, fully equipped with every possible comfort for the campers, were waiting for the girls, and a smaller tent for the captain. "oh, how wonderful! why, this won't be like roughing it," declared several of the girls as they inspected their camp. "everything is ready but the fancy touches. you girls will have to add them as your experiences pile up," said mr. gilroy. "what do you mean?" asked julie. "oh, collections of butterflies, flower-prints, willow-work, and birchbark articles--all these are fancy touches." it was late in the afternoon when the scouts arrived at the bungalow, and it was twilight before they had their baggage all unpacked and in their individual tents. then when the cars were emptied and it was time to drive them back to the garage, mr. gilroy said: "as this is your first night, and everything is strange, you'd better come back to the house for a light supper. get your beds all ready to turn into, and then let everything else go until morning." mrs. vernon approved of this plan, so they finished their tasks and jumped in the cars to drive back to the bungalow for the evening. darkness crept into the woods and everything was silent as they reached the house. while jim followed the host to the garage with the cars, the scouts sat on the verandah and enjoyed the quiet of the woods. the stars now began to peep out of the deep blue that could be seen here and there through the trees, and the captain reminded the girls: "now that we are here for the summer, you must resume your study of the stars. you dropped that, you know, when schoolwork took so much of your time." "most of us know all the stars by heart, verny," said betty. "the names of them, yes, but how many of you can find them as they are placed in the sky?" returned mrs. vernon. "i can show you where the pole star is. look there!" replied joan, running out on the grass to find the bright point of light. "and i can find great bear and the pointers," added ruth, joining her friend on the grass. the other scouts now jumped up from the verandah and ran to join the first two, so the captain followed, also. "i know alcor, mizor, and the square of pegasus," said amy. "that panlike group of stars is known as andromeda," added julie, not to be outdone by her chums. "and those three little stars are called the kids. off to the left of perseus--oh, i forgot to say that perseus is a group of stars at the end of the pan-handle,--well, to the left of them are the bright stars known as capella." "bravo! you scouts are going to be marvelous astronomers some day," came the approving voice of mr. gilroy, as he joined them. "i was just telling the girls they would have to take up the study of the heavens again," mentioned mrs. vernon. "and we were showing off to let the captain hear how much we know," laughed julie. "who can find the lady in the chair or the guards?" asked mr. gilroy of the scouts. the girls eagerly sought for and described these groups, then their host asked for the seven sisters and demon's eye. when they had answered these, ruth said: "if the trees were not so thick i could show you orion, taurus, and lots more, like the lion, the sickle, canis major, etc." "hoh! some of those--and the clown, the ox-driver, the southern cross, and the northern cross--can't be seen at this time of year, ruth," said julie. ruth frowned at the correction, but mr. gilroy quickly calmed the troubled waters with praise for the girls. "you scouts certainly know the stars better than the boys of grey fox troop. i should like to have the two troops have a match game about the stars, some time." "who are the grey fox boys, mr. gilroy?" asked julie. "do you remember i told you, last summer, of some boy scouts who camped in my woods every year? well, four of those boys are here now. the rest of the troop are coming up in august, but these four have all summer to camp in. i'm going to introduce you, soon." "verny, why can't we see all the stars all the year?" now asked ruth. "because the earth turns on its axis, you know, so that certain planets are out of sight for us, and are seen on the other side of the globe. then when the earth turns fully around we see them again." "and the pole star is reckoned to be the center of the star-sky for all the others to move about it. the pole star is always in the same fixed place, so we can always locate it. but not so with the other stars," added mr. gilroy. "i wish some one would tell us a story about the stars," hester now said. "who will tell one?" asked mrs. vernon. "i know that mizor and alcor were used by the turks in past days as a test for eyesight. soldiers who could not sight those two stars were disqualified for fighting. but in these times i don't believe a little thing like bad eyes will hold up a turk from fighting!" said julie, comically. then joan added: "the pole star and ursa major, or the great bear as it is also called, form a shape like a wagon; so in olden times it was called king charles' wain. each star in this constellation is known by a greek letter. the two stars 'a' and 'b' are called the 'pointers' because they point to the pole star." "oh, i didn't mean lesson stuff, like this," complained hester. "i meant a real live legend!" "you tell one, verny," begged betty, sweetly. "mr. gilroy is better able to do it. besides he is the host and is supposed to entertain us," returned mrs. vernon, glancing at mr. gilroy, who was stretched out comfortably upon the short grass. "your host claims to be completely disabled for the time being, captain. pray proceed with the legend yourself," laughed mr. gilroy. then mrs. vernon said: "i never could see why cassiopeia, or the lady in the chair, should be named that. to me, the stars look more like a tipped-over letter 'w' than a lady in a chair." "don't you know the story, verny?" asked julie, eagerly. "you do, so why not tell us?" retorted the captain. "oh, well, then, all right!" said julie. so she began: "once there was an ethiopian queen, the wife of cepheus, who was very proud of their only child, a daughter named andromeda. they were always praising her and speaking of her beauty to every one, so that after a time folks who also had lovely daughters felt jealous of the princess. "in the depths of the inner sea, which is now the mediterranean, lived old nereus and a number of charming daughters. they heard of the queen's bragging about andromeda, and they made up their minds to stop it. so they got their father to help them. "then nereus and the nymphs sent a flood of water over all the country of which cepheus was king, and devastated the kingdom. this caused famine and pestilence, and in the wake of these awful plagues came a sea-monster in the form of a dragon. this fearful beast bellowed----" at that moment a deep thrilling call from some creature close by in the forest-edge caused every one to jump, and they all huddled together. they turned and stared apprehensively at the darkness behind them, but mr. gilroy instantly whispered, "s-sh! don't breathe, and you will see a sight worth watching for." the moon now sailed from back of the cloud that had obscured it for a time, and its cold white light etched everything it touched. again the strange whistling call sounded directly back of the group, and a crashing and tearing of underbrush ended with the sudden spring of a fine buck, that landed him out on the grass not twenty feet from the scouts. at the same moment, a plaintive call came from the direction of silver falls, which was up on the mountainside in front of the bungalow. the buck lifted his gigantic antlers in the moonlight, and his sensitive snout sniffed angrily as he sensed the invaders of his range; but another imperative call from his mate at the falls compelled him to leave these usurpers; so he wheeled gracefully and, with an answering call to let his doe know he was coming, trotted down the trail until he reached the stream that came from silver falls, and there he disappeared in the forest. "what a wonderful sight!" breathed mrs. vernon, when the buck was gone. the girls listened to the dying echoes of those pounding hoofs, and sighed. mr. gilroy sat up and spoke eagerly, "that is the first buck i've ever seen near my bungalow. there are deer in the adirondacks, but they seldom come near a habitation. it is said that they feed in the barnyards in winter, looking for stray grain, but i am not here in winter, you see." "how i would have loved to have had a snapshot of him," said julie, sighing. "you've all got it in your memory--the best place to frame a picture for all time," replied mrs. vernon. "you know, girls, there is an old hunter's saying, that goes: 'a deer to welcome you on your first night will bring luck to you all that year,'" said mr. gilroy, as he turned to lead the way into the bungalow. "wait, mr. gilroy; julie never finished her story. she broke off just where the beast bellowed--then came the buck!" said joan. "the deer finished the story better than we ever could," laughed the captain, as she followed mr. gilroy. "but, at least, tell us what happened to those nerieds?" asked betty, who wished to see the wicked punished. so mrs. vernon had to end the story, although it was condensed in the telling. but betty persisted, "you haven't told us yet what the nerieds did when they found the wonderful prince perseus saved and married to the princess." every one laughed, but julie replied, "why, like most jealous people, the nerieds had to move away from town when every one found out how it all had happened!" the "bite" they had before leaving for camp would have been classed as a first-class supper in the city restaurants, and then, when good-nights were being said, the host gave jim a laden basket to carry for the scouts. "you'll be glad of this in the morning, for breakfast. if you need anything else, run over here and get it from my man who cooks," explained mr. gilroy. but next morning, the contents of that basket were found to be more than enough for any one breakfast. the fruit, cereal, biscuits, and ham to broil, were highly appreciated by the hungry girls. this was soon gone, and then mrs. vernon said they must buckle down to genuine camp life. "i'd rather sleep out under the trees, verny, when the weather is so fine," suggested julie. "so would we," agreed the other scouts, and the captain said, "well, we might make willow beds for out-of-doors, and keep the cots as they are." "how do we know we can find any willows around here?" asked ruth. "i saw some early this morning when i was snooping about. i got up at dawn and left you girls sleeping, while i investigated the premises. girls, the place is simply perfect for _anything_ we might choose to do this summer," declared the captain, enthusiastically. "tell us where the reeds are, and we will get them," said betty. "they grow about a spring not far from here. we must follow a wild-animal trail along the lake to reach the spot." so the scouts each took an axe and knife and followed the guide to the willow-brook where the reeds grew. mrs. vernon showed the girls how to select the wands, and then began to cut down her own. she took about six dozen reeds as thick as a lead-pencil, and many smaller ones; these were bundled together, and then she was ready to start back to camp. finally the girls were ready, also, and they trailed back. "now girls, each one must cut notches about three-fourths of an inch from the butt-ends of the reeds. then peel the sticks carefully--do not crack or break them while doing it." mrs. vernon did hers as she advised. "now come with me, and select your posts for the beds. i take four young birch saplings for the bed-frame," announced mrs. vernon, as she chopped down the required birches, "and stout birches about four inches thick for my bedposts." each scout cut hers and then went back to the camp-ground to begin work on the indian beds. "every one measure the birch saplings and have two of them seven feet long, and two shorter ones three or four feet long," instructed mrs. vernon. "lop off all the twigs, and place the two long ones for sides, and the two short ones for top and bottom of the bed-frame. "now, this done, watch me carefully, girls. this is the important part of making the bed," advised the captain. mrs. vernon took a ball of heavy twine and doubled a long strand so that it was half-length. this was twisted into one strand, and a loop tied in the middle. many of these strands were stretched across the frame at equal distances apart, until the entire frame had a warp across it. "now i'll weave in the reeds," said the captain, taking one of the thin willows and weaving it in and out of the cords. at the loop, the rod was thrust through it to hold it centrally in place, then the weaving process went on until the end of the frame was reached. the weaving of each reed was done the same way until the whole frame was crossed with willows held firmly in the middle by the loops in the cords. "next thing, girls, i will cut the posts as i need them. i want them about three feet high. one end of each post must be sharpened so it will go down into the ground." this was done and the four stout birch posts were driven firmly into the ground where mrs. vernon wanted her willow bed to stand. "and next, i tie a loop of heavy cord, or rope, about the top of each post, in which i can hang my willow-frame." this was also done, and the scouts helped place the woven mat in position. "well, isn't that simple, when you know how!" said julie. "everything is, my dear," laughed mrs. vernon. "your bed is too wide for me. i don't want one four feet wide," said ruth. "you can make it as wide, or as narrow, as you like. i think three feet is wide enough for each girl," returned the captain. "but the best of these beds is, that when one is invited to visit, one can roll up the mat easily and carry it along to sleep on. they are very light and not cumbersome to roll and carry." all that day was given to weaving the beds, and the scouts not only enjoyed the novel employment, but had great fun in joking each other over the work. about four o'clock that afternoon a shrill whistle was heard from the trail that ran to the bungalow and soon thereafter mr. gilroy was seen coming down towards camp. "hullo, there! i waited all morning for visitors, but at last decided to come and see if my tenants had abandoned the premises!" explained he, as he went over to the weavers to watch them. "now you understand why we couldn't visit," said joan. "i came over to ask how many of you have been fishing? and what did you catch?" said he. "no, we haven't fished yet. we planned to try it the very moment we are through with these beds," replied joan. "then perhaps you have not been near the lake-cove since you went hunting for willows this morning," remarked mr. gilroy. "the cove? i saw two boats there early this morning," said the captain. "and now there are two canoes there, also," added mr. gilroy. "oh, really! but how did you manage to get them there--by paddling in from the lake?" asked mrs. vernon. "no, i had them brought from my boathouse this morning. while jim was here, i made use of him by having him help hiram carry two canoes over to the boat-wagon, and then drive down here. not a soul nor a sound was seen or heard about the camp, so i surmised you had all gone on a lark. then we launched the canoes and tied them to a stump to surprise you when you should go for the boats. we never dreamed you could keep away from temptation so long as this." "goody! then the first scout that finishes her bed can go and catch fish for supper," declared amy, who was the slowest of the weavers. they all laughed teasingly, and soon afterwards, julie cried, "i'm done! now for the fish!" joan and ruth soon completed their beds, too, so mr. gilroy went out with them to fish. that evening he was invited to sup with the scouts, and a jolly time they had. in the evening, while sitting about the dying campfire, he said to the girls: "the first rainy day that comes along i want you all to come to the bungalow and see my collection of moths, flowers, birds, and butterflies. i have a fine exhibit of butterflies, among them are rare specimens that have seldom been found in these mountains. you scouts will want to start collecting after you see what i have done." "i shall be delighted to look at them, as i have always wanted my girls to do something along those lines," said mrs. vernon. "if you know anything about butterflies, you will prize the specimen of swallow-tail i found in these woods," said mr. gilroy. "really! but i've heard they were never found in america, mr. gilroy," exclaimed julie. "i know that is a common belief, but i have one, nevertheless, and a friend who devotes his time to studying insect-life assured me that the one i caught was genuine. then, the very next day this friend caught one quite near the place where mine was taken. this led us to investigate, and we reached the conclusion that there are rare butterflies hatched out in isolated sections of this land, but are not found; so, of course, no mention is made of them. "even if the farmers see a swallow-tail, or any other rare butterfly hovering over their gardens, they don't know the difference, and it passes safely. if that same farmer knew the value of the specimen he would leave all else to chase the gauzy flutterer." when it came time for the visitor to say good-night, he said, "oh, i forgot all about the very object of my visit!" "it must have been awfully important," laughed julie. "well, _we_ think it is," chuckled mr. gilroy. "the boys of grey fox camp sent me to invite you to have dinner with them to-morrow, if it is clear." "why, mr. gilroy!" exclaimed julie, scarcely believing her idol could forget such an important matter. every one laughed at his guilty look, and judith teasingly said, "we ought to call him 'the man who lost his memory,' for that!" "all fooling aside, scouts, i have a suggestion to make on that very remark. i've wanted to mention it before, but always there was some exciting or important matter that could not be interrupted. now i wish you girls would stop 'mistering' me! i am such an old friend by this time, i should think i could be to you as much as the captain is. she is 'verny' instead of 'mrs. vernon.'" julie was ready with an answer before he had quite finished his complaint. "oh, we would love to give you a pet name, gilly, because you do mean as much to us as our best friends anywhere. by taking a few letters away from your proper name and adding a little 'nick' to the syllable, we have one ready-made." "fine! 'gilly' it shall be henceforth!" laughed mr. gilroy. "but it is so disrespectful, i think," remonstrated mrs. vernon. "couldn't we find some other affectionate term that will do without impressing strangers with our lack of courtesy to our friend?" "why do you object to 'gilly?'" asked mr. gilroy, quizzically. "i can't really find any tangible excuse, except that it makes me think of gilly-flowers, you know," laughed mrs. vernon. every one joined in the laughter, but mr. gilroy said seriously, "well, i am not old enough to be 'granny' to the girls and i dare not request to be called 'daddy' by them, or their rightful parents will call me out to fight a duel, so do let us leave it 'gilly.' the boys of grey fox always wanted to use a friendlier name than a 'mr.' but they never came to it. now we will begin the habit." before mr. gilroy left the camp, the name was established. they were to meet at mr. gilroy's bungalow early in the morning, so he could start them on the right trail. he was going over in the car with supplies for the boys, but the hikers preferred the novelty of adventuring on foot. early the following morning, breakfast being cleared away, each scout was advised to take an axe, a clasp-knife, a bit of twine, a tin cup, and some waterproof matches. "but why should we bother with such stuff?" asked amy. "one never knows whether one will arrive at the right destination or not. should we get lost, we at least have something with which to get a meal," said the captain. "are you going to carry that little bag of flour?" asked hester, curiously. "yes, and a strip of bacon that is wrapped in the paper. i'm not going to starve, if worst comes to worst," laughed mrs. vernon. "a lot of good a strip of bacon will do for ten of us!" said judith. but she had not been with the scouts when they camped at verny's mountain the foregoing summer. when mr. gilroy heard about the bacon and flour, he laughed. "why, it is only two or three hours' tramp over the ridge, and a big dinner will be waiting when you get there." mrs. vernon held her peace, but carried the bacon and flour just the same. she was not to be jeered out of what she knew to be a wise act, whether the food would be needed or not. chapter four a visit to grey fox camp each girl wore hiking boots, her camp uniform, and carried a light pack containing the ax, cup, knife and matches. a few of the girls, secretly following the captain's example, packed a strip of bacon and crackers, or other eatables in their packs. mr. gilroy saw them safely started on the right trail, and then drove away in his car. he followed a woodcutters' road that wound around the mountain, but the scouts were to use the trail that ran over the crest to the boys' camp. the scouts were brimming over with spirits (julie said, "not the kind made in the moonshine, either"), and spent so much time examining flowers or watching wonderful birds that the time sped by unawares. the trail led through small clearings where a brook or waterfall made life worth living. but the higher they climbed the more rugged grew the trail, until there were long stretches that seemed to be sheer wilderness. at such places, the scouts had to hunt about and find a blaze to guide them further. in this way, the hours passed and noon came; still the hikers were far from grey fox camp. "and i'm starved to pieces!" joan assured them all. "so'm i!" admitted ruth. then it was learned that every one present would appreciate something to eat. "but what? we only brought flour and bacon," laughed amy. "how would a fine juicy steak taste about this time?" asked mrs. vernon, winking at her old scouts. they knew what she meant. "oh, 'home and mother'!" sighed judith, rolling her eyes heavenward. every one laughed, but the captain added: "i really mean it! we may as well stop now to cook that steak as to keep on in a half-fainting condition." "but, verny! we didn't bring one bit of meat to camp, and the butcher drives his rounds once a week," cried amy. "we'll just hunt around and chop down a steak," suggested mrs. vernon. "who wants to go with me to find the wooden animal that grows a steak ready-made?" of course, they all went, except julie and joan who remained to build a fire and start the bacon sizzling in the tiny pan. a scout-twist of flour and water was kneaded by joan and put to bake near the fire, and then the girls sat and waited for the others to return. the captain blazed a way slowly into the forest wilderness, peering under bushes and wherever a tree had been cut down--on its stump of a trunk she always looked eagerly. after about ten minutes' search she saw what she wanted. "ah! here it is--a porterhouse, this time." the new members saw a great chestnut stump, its jagged spears of wood protesting against its untimely end. but all over the trunk grew fungi--some larger, some smaller, and all of the same flat horizontal shape, like a huge palm-leaf. these were carefully removed and handed to the girls to carry. "what are they for?" asked judith, looking at the red juice that ran over her fingers when she took the fungus. "that's your steak--think it is too big for one?" "the what?" exclaimed the other new members, skeptically. "beefsteak mushroom--finest steaks ever tasted," came reassuringly from the captain. "the ones growing on a chestnut stump are always the sweetest, but the chestnut trees are disappearing so fast that soon we will have no such mushrooms from them." when they had gathered enough steaks for that meal, they returned to the clearing where julie and joan awaited them. on the way back, mrs. vernon showed the scouts the earmarks of the beefsteak mushroom. "when i cut these from the tree they bled exactly as flesh will bleed when it is cut. now turn them over and you will see on the under side that they have veins of red. that is the life-sap. we will broil or cook them exactly as if they were steaks and then you shall judge of their flavor." "isn't it thrilling to think that man can go right into any wilderness and, without carrying food, clothing, or shelter, live with what nature provides," remarked judith. "yes, and without paying the outrageous prices charged at the present time for actual necessities," replied the captain. the bread-twist was baked, and when the steaks were washed and sliced, mrs. vernon dropped them into the hot fat tried out from the bacon. immediately the smell of frying steak made every scout smack her lips in anticipation. "if we weren't sure of such a fine dinner awaiting us, i would have had a few of you girls gather young bracken for a fresh green vegetable to eat with our steak. but we must not stop and enjoy too much by the wayside," said the captain. there was a liberal slice of steak for each one and the girls pronounced the taste of it delicious. "and so tender, too! i never had such a juicy bit of meat," said hester. having refreshed themselves considerably, with the fun of finding the mushrooms and cooking them, to say nothing of eating them, also, the scouts continued the hike along the trail. just as they reached the crest of the mountain, julie came suddenly upon a fawn, standing in the shadow of a tree; it was watching these queer two-legged creatures. it is hard to say which was most surprised, julie or the deer, but the fawn recovered first and bounded away through the forest. "oh, shucks! there we've gone and left that camera home again!" cried julie, stamping her foot angrily. "wouldn't that have made the most wonderful picture!" added judith. "no use crying now, but, for goodness sake! julie, remember to bring it next time," said joan. "let _every one_ remember--the last thing to do when we start anywhere, every one is to say to herself: 'remember the _maine_!' then we will surely take the camera," giggled julie. the scouts now began descending the other side of the crest, and found a better trail than on the side they came up. so, being able to go faster, they soon reached a lovely camp-site, where the voices of several boys announced that grey fox camp was reached. "we were just being sworn in as deputies to go out and hunt for strayed or stolen scouts," called mr. gilroy, jocularly, as the girls picked their way down from the great rocks that formed a wall back of the camp-ground; then he introduced the two troops to each other. "you told us it was about a two-hours' hike!" said ruth, shaking her head at mr. gilroy, as if in despair of saving his soul. "well, so it is, when the boys are in a hurry to get to the bungalow." "we've been five hours coming, and had to stop for lunch along the way, too," said judith, eager to talk about the beefsteak. the boys stared. "why, you were to have dinner with us! didn't mr. gilroy tell you that?" "yes, but we couldn't wait so long. we're ready for more dinner, now," said joan. "what did you cook for luncheon?" asked alec, the oldest boy in the troop. "oh, only a beefsteak-mushroom and a scout-twist," returned julie, nonchalantly. the boys exchanged glances. "did you find the mushrooms along the way?" asked another boy named bob. "sure! did you think they came preserved?" laughed joan. "no, but _we_ have never found any on this side of the hill. bob often goes out to hunt, but so far we've never seen any," explained another boy, ned thompson. "when we go back, you can go with us a ways, and we will show you where we found the ones we had for luncheon," said betty. "is dinner ready, boys, or will there be time to show the girls about the camp?" asked mr. gilroy. "show them about, as it will take us ten minutes more to finish everything in style," replied alec. so the girl scouts were invited to pass judgment on the fine camp the boy scouts had made. everything was neat as wax, and the boys had constructed many convenient articles from wildwood material only. "last year we had eight boys in camp, but this season only four could come in the beginning; so they have lots of room in their big tee pee. when the other boys come out, they will have to make another tent. they made and water-proofed this one themselves," explained mr. gilroy, showing the visitors the fine big tent. "they built this dining-room, too, to use if the weather is very bad. i told the boys about your corduroy floor that you made in your huts last summer, so they tried it here with very good result." the girl scouts now saw their own idea put into use in a different manner. the log floor was hard and dry, but at each corner rose a stout pole, and upon the tops of the four pole ends was stretched a canvas roof, making a shelter underneath. "girls, we ought to do the same thing, to use for meal time when it rains, or if the rays of the sun are too hot," observed mrs. vernon. mr. gilroy then pointed out to the girls how careful the boys had been in selecting this camp-site. they had high, dry ground, near plenty of fine spring water, on the same lake where the girl scouts camped, but an arm of high land extended out into the water and separated the two camps. "you see, they have ample firewood about without cutting down any trees; they get the early morning sun, and shade all the rest of the day. they ditched the entire place to carry off all the rainwater that might wash down from the crest during a heavy storm. and they built a refrigerator to keep things cold; and over there they have a chicken-coop." "a chicken coop! where did they get the chickens?" asked julie. "ned had some at home and he crated them and brought them along. the boys get fresh eggs in this way, and when the season is over, they will kill the hens for a special occasion and eat them." "verny, that's what we need, a few chickens in camp," was joan's decision, the moment she saw the hens scratching. "i noticed gilly had a lot of chickens running about the barnyard. maybe he will loan us a few, just to provide us with eggs this summer. we can return them in the fall, you know," ventured julie, daringly. "who will buy their corn?" asked he, laughingly. "no one. we will feed them scraps and they can scratch!" promptly replied julie. "you'll starve them and then they won't lay any eggs," now said alec, joining the party. "we'll smile on hiram and get him to bring us some corn from the barn, now and then," said ruth. "i came over to tell you dinner was ready to serve. we had better go now, and eat it while it's good," said alec. the boys had various things hanging over the fire, but the great novelty that caught the girl scouts' attention, at once, was the roaster upon which a nice brown chicken was swinging before the fire. "there! that's a fine idea. how did you make it?" asked mrs. vernon, looking closely at the contraption. alec described to the captain the method of making the roaster. "we took a forked stick, as you see there, of about a two-foot length. we drove that down into the ground about six inches. next we took a long pole, six or eight feet long, and drove the end down into the ground just back of the short stick with the forks. it rested in the crotch made by the forks so that its tapering end slanted upward at an angle, as you see here. "from the end of this long pole we hung the cord that holds the chicken. wire is just as good to use. then we arranged that flat, paddle-like fan halfway between the top and the rope end where the roast will hang. as your chicken roasts before the fire, that mill-fan keeps it perpetually turning about so it browns alike all over." julie wanted to make one like it as soon as they went back to their own camp, so she hastily sketched a model. "it is a great stunt, all right, and we've cooked many dandy roasts this way, and never scorched any," said bob, when alec concluded his description. the dinner began with oyster-mushroom stew, then they had roast chicken, baked wild-potatoes, stewed bracken that tasted exactly like young spinach, dandelion salad, and scout cakes for dessert. it was mid-afternoon when the girls finally said good-by to their hosts, and invited them soon to visit dandelion camp. they started on the return hike, but when they reached the highest boulder back of the camp, the scouts stood and waved good-by again. "come as soon as you can, but give us a whole day's warning, first!" shouted julie, to the four smiling boys below. they made much better time going back, as the trail from grey fox camp was plain, and going down the other side of the crest was much simpler than climbing up. they got back to their own camp by seven o'clock, and were surprised to find mr. gilroy there before them, with supper all ready to eat. "well, this sure is good of you!" sighed julie, dropping upon the grass with healthy fatigue. "i thought you'd appreciate it; i had no exercise to-day, except what i got running the car, so i decided to 'do a good turn' and digest that dinner at the same time," said he. after supper, which was unusually late that night, the tired scouts and their visitor were sitting about the campfire hoping some one would tell a story, when julie spoke: "last summer, gilly said he would tell us all sorts of indian legends when we visited camp in the adirondacks. now we're here and this is the right sort of an evening to tell them." the other scouts seconded the suggestion, but mr. gilroy said: "funny, but i don't remember that promise." "i told you you've got an awful memory--didn't i want to dub you 'the man-with-a-poor-memory?'" teased judith. the guest sat gazing silently into the fire for a few minutes, then he began: "i'm going to tell you a story that is told by the alaskan indians. these ancient legends have been handed down from one generation to another, but the original goes back before the days of moses. i was deeply interested in a few of these tales because they sounded so much like our story of creation as told in genesis, that i wondered if a white missionary had sown his seeds of christianity in the fertile soil of the alaskan esquimaux' mind. "but as far as i could ascertain this legend was told many hundreds of years before white man ever stepped on alaskan ground. recently i learned that iceland has similar legends, and it may be that the alaskan esquimaux are descended from those of iceland. it is well known that iceland is the oldest civilized land in the world--that it was famous for its learning before the days of solomon the wise." chapter five a story of creation* a legend of raven *this legend, given in various ways by different tribes of the icelandic and alaskan indians, each with its own variations, but all with one thread of similarity woven through the tales--was partly interpreted and grouped by the author into the legend that appears in this book. it is said to date back thousands of years before abraham and our bible. acknowledgments for original texts and tales are due the smithsonian institute. "no one knows just how raven first came to be, and we have many different beginnings to start from, but in sitka we know that raven never had beginning nor will he have an ending. "raven was always the all-in-all, and, as he knew all things and made all, he began to wish to have a form of his wisdom that, too, would live on with him forever. so it was that he made him a son to help in the creation. and the son's name, also, was raven. and now it is of raven, son of raven, that we speak. "raven was instructed in every form of knowledge and he was trained in every wise thing, so that when he grew up he would have everything necessary to make a glorious world, where all beautiful wishes and every good idea would be objectified, and would remain forever a praise and prayer to raven, the father creator. "so raven made the world, but he found there was no light with which to show the beauty and form of what he had created. then, after deep thinking, he remembered his father to have said that there was a large lodge far up the nass where one kept all the light that ever could be found. "raven tried many ways in which to reach this house on the nass, but the way was unknown to every one, so he wandered afar, seeking for the true trail. one day he helped an old lame man along the path and, for gratitude, the old man said: 'you seek the one of nass who keeps the light?' "raven replied, 'yea, for many days have i sought him.' "then the lame old man smiled a strange smile, and said, 'i know of but one way to bring this great light into the world you made, and that way is to send forth that light through the daughter of the one with the light.' "'but, brother, how do i know there is such a daughter? and if there be, how shall i receive the light through her?' "'o raven, thou art a great creator! thy father is all-in-all of the north, and the daughter of light will joyously send forth this light you need to show the beauties of your world,' said the old wayfarer. "'then tell me this, o brother, for i seem not to know how to reach the virgin of the light, despite all the wisdom i have been taught,' anxiously begged raven. "'then hark to my words, o son of raven: i will turn you into a small drop of water, and fly with you over the house of light. as i pass the pool whence comes the water for drink, i will drop you into a glass the virgin holds ready to quaff. then you will know what to do.' "raven showed his surprise, for he had believed the old man to be lame and helpless, and now he found he was a wise man who could find his way wheresoever he would go. "then the old man, with the wonderful drop of water held carefully in his palm, flew over the house of light, and passed low down over the pool where the virgin stood ready to drink. "as she raised the cup to her lips, the drop of pure water which had been raven, fell into the liquid, and she drank all that the vessel held. "now this drop of clear water grew and became a man-child, and the virgin knew she was to bring forth the light unto the world, that all might enjoy the beauties of creation. so she was happy and praised raven and the father of raven, day and night, for having given himself to become a little drop of water that the light might be born. "when the time came for the light to be revealed, the virgin prepared a royal bed of furs of great value for the man of light to be born on. but the babe struggled and refused to be born in a state of riches, and he whispered to the virgin: 'the world of joy and riches needs me not, but the world of sorrow and darkness needs me. i will shed this light on such as are heavyladen and weary.' so the virgin knew the light must be born in meekness and humility, that all brothers could find raven without pomp or pay. "so the birthplace was lined with common iceland moss, and the child of light was born thereon. the moss-bed was made up in a room that had been used for the humblest things in the great house of light: that is, for the storing of queer bundles, some large, some small, and all of various shapes and colors. and when the babe looked around at the walls of his birthplace, his eyes shone like stars and a heavenly smile beamed from his face, for _he_ knew what those bundles contained! "as the child waxed strong and beautiful, the mother saw that it yearned for something she had not hitherto given him, so a servant was ordered to seek everywhere and find what it was the babe craved. "finally, the attendant moved a bundle that hung at the farthest end of the room. and as he did so, the child laughed and his eyes shone brightly. "'bring that bundle here--it is what the babe wanted!' declared the mother. so the unwieldy bundle was placed upon the bed. "the mother carefully removed a wrapper, but found still others to undo. finally all the wrappers were taken away and but one remained. this was of a wonderful shimmering material such as no one had ever beheld before. the mother reverently opened this cover, and lo! there lay revealed all the stars of heaven! "the child gurgled with joy, and took the corner of the shimmering cover and drew it, with the contents, over to himself. he looked upwards, and with a wonderful expression in his sweet face, suddenly flung the bright cover and all the stars it held, up through the smoke-hole of the lodge. "with a happy, joyous laugh, he watched the stars scatter far and wide to rest finally in the firmament, and there they shine to this very day! "the virgin mother then knew that this child truly was raven, the son of raven, and she commanded every one to bow down in worship, for he had been given the power to bring light to the world of darkness, and no more would darkness cover the people. "soon after the stars were fixed in the firmament of heaven, the child again yearned and seemed to pine for something. but now the mother knew what had to be done, so she commanded an attendant to take down the bundle that hung in the corner whence the stars came. "this bundle was brought over to the mother, but it was smaller than the first bundle that had held all the stars. the mother carefully undid the many wrappings of this bundle, and found the last covering was made of a filmy frosty texture which had no opening or end that might be unrolled. "but the child held out his hands eagerly for the bundle, and the moment it had been given him, he found the secret opening and then unrolled the cover. when the last frosty bit of gauzy cloud fell away from the contents so carefully preserved, every one exclaimed in wonder at the beauty they beheld. there was a big moon, cool and shining, then as now! "the child clapped his hands with delight, and wafted the moon with its frosty gauze covering up through the smoke-hole of the room and it became fixed as the stars, to give light through the hours of darkness, that the earth need not stumble and fall upon a black pathway. "the third bundle was great and difficult to reach, but the child cried for it and the servants had to work and struggle to reach it, until finally, down it came. and as it fell, it sent forth sparks of strange fire that consumed not a thing, yet prevented any servant from handling the bundle. "the child laughed and clapped his hands, but finding no one could hold the flaming bundle, he crept over and took it. the mother stood affrighted lest the child of light be consumed. but he unwrapped each covering himself, and when the last dazzling wrapper was revealed, no human being durst gaze upon that light. but he who was born of light looked upon what was hidden in that covering and flung all up through the smoke-hole to take its place in the firmament of heaven, where it shines like unto a sun--to-day, as in those days. and it was given the world to shed its rays of light upon the earth by day, even as the moon shines for light by night, and the stars sing for joy and gladness that light came to the world. "after the sun, and moon, and stars were made, this man-child did many wonderful things that astonished all who came to the house of light to hear and see such a marvelous being. but there was still one bundle left hanging in a very gloomy corner of the birth-chamber, and this bundle was left until the child grew to the stature of a man. then he demanded that it be given him. "'no, no, my son,' wept the mother, 'do not ask for that--it contains death.' "'know then that _i_ know it,' returned the young man, seriously. 'knowest thou not why i came to be born of the light? not only that the world might have eternal light, but also to dispel all darkness that eternal life might come through the overcoming of this death. "'the light i had, and the light i gave, but through forever closing the gates of death to the world i forever fix this light of life in the heavens that no one can darken it more.' "the mother wept for she knew her son must die if he took down that bundle, but he replied: 'for this great mission was i sent to you that, through you, should be given birth to light, and thus establish for all time the light for the world.' "sorrowing, the mother herself took down the bundle and brought it to her son, and no servant might remain in the room when raven, son of raven, removed the coverings of death. as the last wrapper was removed and the mother saw the heavy shroud that folded itself clingingly about the ghastly contents of that bundle, she ran weeping from the room, for she dared not watch her son accept it. "so the birth-room remained closed while raven fought with death, but after three shinings of the sun, and three shinings of the moon, and with the shining of the stars as they sang softly, a blinding light shone through all the walls of the house of light, and the mother with her attendants ran to open the door of the birth-chamber, now called the room of death. but behold! the man raven himself was revealed in shining raiments, shining like the sun, and he smiled upon those who fell down in awe at sight of him. "'i have destroyed death for all, and now i go to shine in the heavens with this light of life that was given me. all who will may follow where i go,' said raven. "'and at that, he rose through the smoke-hole and took his place in heaven, but his light shone then and shines now into every corner of darkness in the world. and the day is come when there is no more darkness, for rich and poor, good and bad, and every created thing made by raven, see the light that transforms everything into lights that find their places in the firmament of heaven.' "raven, son of raven, sat hidden in the great light that he received when death was overcome, but he saw that the earth was without form. then he desired to create seas and mountains upon the face of the void, and he sat thinking and thinking for many a time. "suddenly he remembered that in the house of light there was a wonderful pool of clear water. so he sent a ray from the sun down through the clouds and thereby drew up enough water to drink. but he did not swallow the cooling water. he held it in his mouth and flew with it over the whole earth which was void of form. "he spat forth a drop of this water and it became the source of the river nass. another drop from his mouth became the stikine river, and the third drop became the taku river. then followed the chilkat, the alsek, and finally, all the great rivers of the north. "but raven found he would need more water for seas and oceans and lakes, so he sat again, and by thinking and thinking he received the idea. "it was not according to his wish to send a sunbeam to the pool of eternal water in the house of light, to bring up more of that pure water to him, and he was happy when he conceived the idea that came to him. and this it was: "'if the rivers i made, run on eternally because their source came from the house of light, why shall i not guide them all to one great meeting-place and call that the ocean? but as they run to this one rest, even so will i give them smaller rests along the way, and at these resting-places they may spread out upon the bosom of the earth. these rests will i call lakes. then there will come times when the ocean, which is continually filled from the eternal source of the rivers, must needs overflow its boundaries. and these overflows will fill up the great holes in the earth. so these i will call seas. "'even as the sun sent his ray to carry me the drink from the pool that is in the house of light, so will i command the sun and the moon and the stars to govern the waters of the earth, and thus the lights in the firmament of the heavens will draw up any surplus overflows, that these may turn to moisture in the cloudy coverings that wrapped the lights before they became fixed in the firmament. the clouds will rain down refreshing drink upon all lands on the earth, that all things may replenish themselves and so live eternally, in one grand bond of brotherhood, loving and helping each other, from the great to the small, and from small to great.' "and it was as raven desired. so to this day, the sun and moon and all the stars work together in harmony to keep the rivers and lakes, and seas, and ocean within their bounds and to replenish all things. "but raven found afterwhile that so much water flowing ceaselessly from the source, and the rain that fell from the clouds upon the land, made the earth so wet that it was not a good place to dwell upon. then he began to think and think again, of how he might create something to dry up the surplus moisture. "now he was walking by a great ocean, one day, still thinking of plans to dry away any unpleasant dampness, when he saw a petrel sitting on a rocky promontory. "'brother,' called raven to the bird, 'how came you here?' "'i? oh, i was born when the waters were sent to earth. how came you here--and where were you born?' asked the petrel. "'i? oh, i was born before the world was thought of, so i have no beginning and no end,' replied raven. "'ha! tis well said, but rings not true,' the petrel jeered. 'no one ever was before this world was created, and no one ever shall remain when this world ends.' "'i am raven, son of raven, and because you know not the truth of creation, but believe the lie, you shall henceforth go about in a fog. your name shall be earth-made, and you shall dream dreams in this fog, but you may not see the light until that day when the whole world shall be freed from all forms of darkness!' "and instantly, a fog-cover fell over petrel, because he knew not the truth told by raven, son of raven. and the fog so hid from the eyes of petrel the sun and moon and stars that came from the house of light, that he believed _them_ to be controlled by a lie, also. "but raven learned that the fog he had called forth from the waters on the earth made the place still more moist and not good for a place of sojourn. then he planned to dry it away quickly. "petrel, the earth-bound, was left groping in the fog for the truth he had scorned and now could not find, and raven passed to a place where he saw something floating on the wave not far from shore. he failed to recognize it as of his creating, so he wished to reach it. "while looking about for something to use to reach it, he saw a bird with a very long bill, watching him. this bird was not like anything he had created so he knew it must be an offspring of the fog, mist-made, and related to petrel. "raven then commanded this bird, 'fly out over the water and bring back yon floating object.' "the bird with a long bill was a chicken-hawk, and it lived by killing weaker and smaller birds than itself. raven knew this was its way the moment he saw it was mist-made, and so he sent it on this errand. "the chicken-hawk dared not refuse to go after the bright object floating on the wave, but he said to himself, 'i'll drop it if it is not good for me to carry!' "raven knew this evil intent, and said, 'when you have taken hold of the object, do not drop it till you have brought it ashore.' "so the chicken-hawk left in no good humor, and flew out to the wave, where he found a mass of fire floating there. he was a coward, such as all mist-made creatures are, and he feared to bring in the great ball of fire, yet he dared not disobey the command of a superior being like raven. so he tore off a mouthful only, and that is how he came to be so badly burned. had he caught hold of the whole mass of flame, the outside of which really had been cooled as it rolled about upon the waves, he could have escaped without an injury. "he brought the piece of fire to shore, and raven said, 'because you were cowardly and obeyed me only through fear, your beak shall remain forever burned off and short as it now is.' "and so it is to this day, and shall be until light redeems all things. "raven then took some chips of red cedar and some white stones, and mixed them in the fire. these were distributed over all the earth, so that many great forests grew up from the cedar shavings, and thus absorbed the surplus moisture on the land. and mighty volcanoes were formed of the red-hot stones, and these, in consuming the water under the surface, steamed and spewed forth the massive rocks and varied-hued stones that gave peaks and cliffs as pleasant places for deer and sheep to roam upon. "thus, with the face of the earth so beauteous, raven sat down and rejoiced. but petrel and chicken-hawk were left to wander in the fog. "finally, raven's mother died, and he sorrowed greatly, for she saw not the great light that he had established to overcome the darkness of death. still, because she had always dwelt in the house of light and had given birth to raven, son of raven, she was given an honorable place in the firmament of heaven. "and raven, as the custom was in the realm where his mother had lived, prepared a great feast in honor of his mother. but he began thinking how he might honor her in a different way. so he cut a witch-hazel wand with which to point at anything he wished to use in the preparation of this feast. thus he collected wood and stones and many things on the face of the earth. and when all this was assembled he built him a great house. "then he called the rain and sunshine to hide the house until he was ready for the feast. he then sat down to think and think, and this is what he thought, and what came of it. "'i want fish to swim in the waters, and birds to fly in the skies, and creatures to live in the forests, and beings to live on the land, to be found in this house when it is opened. and they will all be perfect, lovely, and good, to live with this creation i have made.' "thus, having thought all these things, raven stood up and stretched out his hand that held the wand, and pointed it over the house that was hidden as yet by rain and clouds. "and, suddenly, the rain ceased its downpour, the sun smiled, and the house stood revealed in all its beauty. then raven sang: "'this made i for an honor to my mother!' "and as he sang his song of honor and praise, the house opened and all manner of living creatures came forth--beautiful, perfect, and an honor to the earth upon which they would dwell. "so it is that even to this day, when one makes a feast to honor a dead person who will sit in a place in the firmament, the house of the living is opened to all, from the greatest to the least of the earth. "when the feast was over raven wished to leave an eternal monument to his mother, the virgin who gave birth to the light, so he called to him the four winds to help. "'south wind, in the spring and summer when all the sun's rays are warm, blow gently upon the earth and sing of my mother.' "'north wind, sit on top of the ice-mountain yonder, and when the earth is chill and sorrowing for my mother, blow fiercely from your snow-laden hills and sing over her grave.' "'east wind, when the earth-people weep salt-water over the biers of their dead, and sigh because of their loss, sing to them of my mother.' "'west wind, when you blow gently, and tell the earth that storms and cold and sorrow may come but light shines in the end to bring them joy and peace, sing low and sweetly of my mother.' "thus the four winds came to earth to sing to the peoples dwelling here, and every one heard of the mother who gave birth to light--raven, son of raven. "but after all these things were done, raven sat down and thought and thought deeply, and as he thought he called upon his father, the great raven, the all-in-all, for advice. "and having received advice, raven stood up and lifted his hands to the heavens, and sang with a loud voice: "'i shall make men in my image and likeness, and they shall dwell in the light and be given dominion over all this earth i have made for my joy and pleasure. thus we shall be happy and live forever!' "so raven made all men like unto himself. they were good and perfect and beautiful and they all dwelt in love in the light. and thus they dwelt many, many days, and were happy. "but the fog which had been called out for petrel's error harbored many birds of evil omen, and these, guided by petrel, swept through the fog and attacked the men of the light. the fog covered all things and caused every one to grope about, seeking to find one another and escape from the mist that hid the shining light. "and thus any one who had the slightest degree of fear or greed or malice or lying in his heart, breathed in the fog and thenceforth lived in a dream. they were thenceforth born of the fire of wrath that the chicken-hawk tore apart from the floating mass, and were consumed with fear. they lived their days in the fog that came upon petrel when he believed a lie, and they suffered and sorrowed and died, all in a dream caused by the fog; and afterwhile these mist-men forgot there ever had been a perfect earth created by raven, son of raven, where love and beauty and joy rule everything. "so petrel ruled his world of fog, where hate and sin and death were his servants, and thus it happened that a petrel is the sign of storm and trouble and blinding mist, but the raven is known to be wise and patient for it knows where its light dwells. "so raven sits, and patiently waits for petrel's dreams to lose themselves in the fog, for such will surely come about. and as the lights ruled by raven shine stronger, the fog grows fainter and still lighter, until breaks the day when all mist vanishes and raven's creation is seen forever beautiful and perfect." when mr. gilroy concluded his beautiful legend, the scouts were silent. it was the greatest praise they could bestow at the moment, for the story was not one to call forth applause and noise. then they began to speak, but in soft voices. "and to think that this story of creation, so similar in many ways to our bible stories, was handed down from ancient days," remarked mrs. vernon, thrilled by the realization. "i find many interesting similarities between our bible and the holy legends reverently told by the esquimaux. but this one always struck me as being as fine as any. that is why i told it," explained mr. gilroy. then their camp entertainer, as julie now named mr. gilroy, bid them all good-night and went up the trail. and the scouts were soon in bed, their last waking thoughts being of raven, son of raven, the all-in-all of creation. chapter six lost on the trail a few days after the girl scouts' visit to grey fox camp, they were agreeably surprised by having the boys visit them. mr. gilroy was with them, and as each boy carried an ax and a woodman's knife, the girls knew they came to work. "we decided to cut a shorter trail over the crest, and as to-day is so cool, we thought it would be a fine time for work," explained alec, the leader in the boys' camp. "one day's as good as another! we're ready to help any time," replied julie, as leader of the girl scouts' troop. "why didn't you let us know, then we might have blazed the trail up our side of the mountain, and you boys would have worked from your side. when we met on top, we might have celebrated with a feast," ventured mrs. vernon. so the girls ran for axes and knives, and all began work together, back of dandelion camp. they cut and chopped, and blazed a fine trail up past silver falls, where the doe had called to her mate the first night the girls were at camp, and so on to the top of the mountain. but it took the greater part of that morning to go as far as they did. "we'd better stop here, and go back to see how the trail seems," suggested mr. gilroy. "why not finish the job, now that we're on top?" asked alec. "because you boys can easily blaze from here on to your camp, and i am beginning to worry lest my dinner is burning," laughed mr. gilroy. "_your_ dinner! where's the indian cook?" asked alec. "he's cooking for fifteen! i have invited guests coming to dine at the bungalow this evening," returned mr. gilroy, meaningly. "oh, hurrah! isn't that fine? now we won't have to wash any supper-dishes!" exclaimed ruth, who still disliked doing dishes. the girls laughed, for they understood, but alec said, "why talk about a supper so distant! i'd rather plan about something to eat this minute." "so would we all. i guess we are nearly starved," said ned. "why not stop work and cook a few steaks?" suggested bob. "you boys have done all the talking about something to eat, but the girls said nothing. maybe they are not hungry!" ventured mr. gilroy. "hungry! we're too _weak_ to speak," sighed julie, rubbing the spot under her belt. "i can eat reindeer moss without its being cooked," said amy. "that settles it! cook we must, but what?" declared joan. "well, some of us will hunt up the mushrooms; some must gather bracken, some, the lichen; and gilly can hunt up the coffee beans, _alias_ roots and acorns," said alec. "what will _you_ be doing, meantime?" retorted mr. gilroy. "oh, i'll just remove that package of flour from your pocket and use this strip of bacon that i lifted from dandelion larder; and when the steaks come back, i'll have bread and fat ready over a fine fire." "bacon! when did you manage to steal that?" demanded the captain, amazed. the boys laughed, for alec's clever sleight-of-hand was an endless source of fun for them. "don't all hunt together. divide your strength and see that results come back with you," advised alec, rolling up his sleeves preparatory to starting his fire. "i can't fish like the other boys, so i'll go with the girls who are going for the beefsteaks," said dick. "all right. and where will you go, captain?" asked alec. "if gilly is sent for coffee, i shall hunt for tea. i do not care for his brand of coffee, but i _do_ know where to find the ingredients for a nice fragrant cup of tea." a laugh circled the group, and mr. gilroy said, "all right. now see to it that you don't ask for a drop of my coffee, hereafter." so they separated, some of the scouts going with mrs. vernon; bob and ned going for trout; hester and amy with mr. gilroy; and julie, joan and judith with dick, for mushrooms. after breaking a way through a dense jungle, the latter four scouts came out to a small clearing, but they had not seen any mushrooms. "what a fine baseball diamond this clearing would make!" said julie, as they looked around. "and there are some chestnut stumps--on the far side of the clearing!" exclaimed dick, crossing to the spot. but they found no mushrooms on the stumps, much to their chagrin. "there'll be other trees about here, where we're sure to find what we need," said dick, eagerly. so into the woods they plunged, winding about here and there, but not finding what they sought. none of them thought to blaze a trail as they wandered, consequently had no means of telling how far or in what direction they had gone before dick found a few small mushrooms. "only enough for a few of us. we need more than these," he remarked. "there's sure to be more where these are. let's keep on hunting," urged julie. so they kept on winding through the underbrush, but with no good results. finally dick found a plant that he believed to be a wild potato. "no, it is not. it hasn't the leaves or blossom of the indian potato," declared joan. "that may be, but when it grows old it dries up, you know," argued dick, beginning to dig at the root. the girls wandered about seeking for signs of more mushrooms, but could find none. then dick stood up and stretched his back-muscles. "my that was tough digging when you have no tool. and it wasn't a potato after all." "well, we've been gone a long time now. suppose we go back with what we have," said joan. "yes; even if we can't fill up on steaks to-day, let us eat more of the greens," added judith. so they turned to go back to camp. they climbed over the boulders similar to those over which they had already climbed, over similar fallen timber, and finally came to a stream. "i don't remember a brook when we came," remarked julie. "neither do i," added judith. "all places look alike when you're hunting anything. we may have crossed a bog or a brook and never have noticed it," said dick. "oh, i would have noticed it! i wouldn't be such a poor scout as not to know where i was going," returned julie, defensively. "now, dick, i'm sure there was no bog where we came through, but here's one right ahead of us," called joan, who was a few paces ahead. "no, there was no bog!" affirmed julie. "did you bring a compass?" now asked dick. "no, we never thought of being lost," murmured julie. "we're not lost, just strayed a bit," dick assured them. "'lost, strayed or stolen'--it's all the same if we have to miss our dinner," sighed joan. they managed to cross the boggy spot and then trailed to a place that dick claimed was the clearing. but it turned out to be a little fen made by a tiny spring. "what we should have done was to leave our marks as we came through--broken twigs, or trampled grass, or some such signs," said julie. "but we didn't, and now is no time to talk of it!" dick said impatiently, for he began to realize that they really were lost. "we can begin right now, however, and then not keep circling around without recognizing that we were there before!" snapped julie. so the girls began, then and there, to leave their signs as they followed after dick, who really knew not where he was leading. "had we better separate and go in different directions to hunt the camp?" asked dick finally. "mercy, no! better be lost together than get lost each one alone!" exclaimed joan. "sort of 'united we stand,' etc.," chuckled julie, in spite of her concern over not finding the way. they kept on forcing a way through the thick bush and resting now and then when they found a little clearing; but finally judith cried: "you'll have to go without me! i'm so weak from hunger i can't walk another step." "girls, suppose we stop and cook the steaks?" asked dick. "i say so, too," agreed julie. so they cleared a little space in the woods and with two rubbing-sticks soon produced fire. while two of the girls were doing this, dick washed the mushrooms in the little spring they had seen, and then sliced them with his knife. "we haven't any salt or bacon, but they'll taste good to starved wanderers," said dick, holding one over the fire to cook. each girl spiked one on a sharpened stick and held it out to broil. when the mushrooms were cooked they each ate until they felt better. then dick made a suggestion. "making this fire gave me an idea. why not make 'two smokes' for signals. if alec or any one else is looking for us, they can see them." "why didn't we think of that before! fine idea, dick," said joan. "what will 'two smokes' mean?" asked judith. "means 'we are lost,' come find us," said dick, busy with two heaps of firewood. "but you can't signal here under these trees, dick! we've got to find an open place where the smoke can rise up above the tree-tops, you know," advised julie. dick realized he had been caught napping by a girl, and he didn't like it very much but he could not show his annoyance, for julie was right. so he stood up and said: "i'll shout as loud as possible,--maybe they will hear us." so he shouted until he was hoarse. "in this dense forest, where the trees break every sound, the smoke signal is as good as any other. let us find a clearing," suggested julie. so they sought again, and soon found an open spot where the sky was visible without any obstructing tree-branches overhead. "why, this looks like the same clearing that i said would make a fine baseball diamond," declared julie. "so it does! and here is a broken twig where we went out," said joan. [illustration: "we are lost, come find us" ... page ] "then we can't be many miles from home," laughed julie, her spirits rising again at the slightest encouragement. they made two smokes, however, and waited to watch the thin spirals rise above the trees, side by side, until they dispersed in the blue ether far overhead. but no sound came in answer to the signals. "maybe no one remembered the smoke idea," ventured judith. "and they'd have to be in the open, or climb a tree, to see it," asserted joan. "maybe they made signals, too, and are waiting for us to answer them. did you bring a rifle, dick?" said julie. "no, none of us did. but i can climb one of these trees and see if the others made any smokes." "choose that towering pine,--you ought to be able to see everything from that high top," advised julie. so dick climbed the tall pine, but after he had reached the top he saw nothing that might lead him to find the other campers. he shouted and whistled as shrilly as he could from the lofty perch, but no answering sound came to his ears, so he slid down again. "see anything at all, dick?" asked julie, the moment he came down. "a great sea of waving green tops, one wave back of the other, without a break," said he. "well, what now? shall we keep on hunting for the way back from this clearing, or just sit and let them find us?" asked joan, despondently. "you know they say a flock of ducks will always fly towards water. now, i saw some ducks flying in one direction when i sat up in that tree," remarked dick. "then you _did_ see something other than waves of green! why didn't you say so!" snapped julie, impatient with his poor scouting sense. "i thought they might be flying down towards little moose lake, where dandelion camp is, and we want to find our party," said dick, in justification. "anything to get out of this tangle. we'd just as lief wind up at dandelion camp as elsewhere," said joan. "all right then, follow me and we will go in the direction the birds flew," said dick, and he started down hill. down and down they tramped, chopping away smaller obstructions, until they were stopped by a wide fen that belted the section. advance was impossible, for every time one tried to step upon the ooze the foot would begin to sink in. "oh, how awful!" wailed judith, ready to cry. "how can we cross? if only we could find a fallen tree that happened to fall right across," sighed joan. "if only we had a drink of cold water i'd be thankful," declared julie, mopping her warm face. "that's the easiest part of the whole trouble," quickly said dick. "what do you mean? i wouldn't drink that slimy liquid for anything," said julie, frowning at the water. "now, just wait a second and you'll see what i can do with that water!" bragged dick, glad to redeem his reputation as a scout. with hands and a stick he quickly dug a hole to the depth of the marsh. then he squinted carefully at his well, then at the marsh, and back again. the girls watched him curiously. "guess i can go a few inches deeper,--the well has to be about six inches below the surface of the nearby pool, you know." he dug deeper and soon the well began filling with muddy water. "there, now i've got it!" said dick. "do you expect us to drink _that_!" scorned joan. "no, but wait." dick hurriedly baled out the well until it was almost emptied. then he allowed it to fill again. he baled it out a second time, and permitted it to fill again. the third time the water was almost clear, so he baled once more, and this time the water filtered in as clear as crystal. he stooped, drank from it, and said: "it's cold and pure!" then the girls drank, and found it most refreshing to their parched tongues and throats. "well, i never knew that before! we've learned two things by being lost with dick as guide," said julie frankly, and dick was delighted to hear such nice things about himself. "shall we try to circle this fen and get across, or go back again?" now asked dick. "it's hard to tell just what is best to do," murmured julie, puckering her brow in thought. suddenly two shots echoed down the mountainside, and after an interval of six seconds a third shot rang out. "there! alec's seen our smoke. his signal means 'where are you?' what shall we do?" cried dick, excitedly. "how can we answer them?" wondered the girls. "we'll have to back-trail to our clearing. that's where the shots sounded from," said dick. "dear me, if only we had waited there, they would have found us," complained judith. "but we didn't, so the next best thing to do is to get back as soon as we can, or they'll go away again," declared julie. they climbed, scrambled and tumbled up the rugged slope, keeping as far as they could to the rough trail they had made in coming down. when they thought they were near the clearing, they shouted with all their lung-power, and the welcome sound of answering calls soon greeted their ears. "oh, dick, give that cat-call again so they will know we're on our way," asked julie, anxiously. so dick gave his ear-splitting whistle by placing his fingers between his lips and blowing through the crevices. in less than ten seconds afterwards, two shots sounded in quick succession. "that means they've heard us and are waiting," cried dick. "come this way,--that echo is misleading." so the girls followed their young guide, and soon they broke through the fringe of great trees into the clearing where the rest of the party stood. alec gave them no time to explain. he was angry, and no mistaking it! "dick, can you tell me of any concession made to you that allows you to start two fires and then go away and leave them to work their will in these forests? if we had not found the fires you left, what might have resulted to this area of mountain land?" the girls and dick stood amazed, for they had forgotten all about the fires started as smoke signals. "when i broke through the underbrush into this clearing, the fires were blazing away like fury. they had encroached upon all the brush and handy leaves, and were eating a way to the timber-line. in half an hour more those same _little_ fires would be raging over the crest and destroying acres and acres of forest-trees, to say nothing of causing the work all the farmers and forest-rangers would have in trying to control it. just because a brainless scout _forgot_ his duty!" the scorn in alec's last words was cutting. dick began to apologize, but alec held up a hand. "no apology will answer for such a thing." then he turned to ned and said: "put dick down for penance at camp." "we ought to be punished as well as dick," said julie. "we never remembered the fires, either." "that's up to your captain,--i am merely doing my duty to _my_ troop," returned alec. "had anything to eat?" asked anne, who always felt sorry for any one who was hungry. "we ate the mushrooms we found," meekly replied joan. "then come back and eat what we left for you. we had fish and greens and biscuit," said hester. while they were munching the cold food, alec questioned them further. "why didn't you use what scout-sense you had? you know you could have found the way you came through those woods by looking for broken cobwebs across the bushes; by overturned stones with the damp under side showing; or by broken twigs and crushed blades of grass; and last, but hardest, you might have looked to see where leaves on trees and bushes were turned awry from your brushing against them. they do not right themselves immediately, you know." "we never heard of that before," admitted julie. "but dick has, even though he has forgotten it," said alec. "he had to learn it from the manual--what he would do in case of being lost in a forest." "but even if you knew nothing about that, you all knew it would simplify things for us if you were to blaze a way to guide us the way you went. you could easily have broken twigs and left them hanging, or piled little heaps of stones along the trail you took." "oh, for goodness sake! let up on us now, and wait until _you_ are lost, will you?" cried julie, placing her palms over her ears. "yes, it's so easy to tell the other feller what to do!" was all the retort dick made. "well, children, after all i have my inning!" declared mr. gilroy, chuckling. "what's that?" demanded every one. "i wanted you to come home and dine with me, but no! you must stop to cook in the woods. now you'll all be glad enough to hurry home and come to my party. and the dinner won't be slighted, either, from so much overeating up here!" chapter seven a little business at breakfast the day following the "lost scouts'" adventure, mrs. vernon remarked: "girls, yesterday's experience taught me an important thing, and that is, we need a set of rules for camp, so that every member of dandelion troop will have her proper share of work and duty to perform. "we have been keeping house in a haphazard way, with no responsibility attached to any one but julie and me. now, each day there must be some sort of regulations and punishments, if duties are neglected. the fire yesterday showed me that that system was good." "your idea is all right, verny, but what will the rules cover, and why have punishments?" asked julie. "because every day will probably bring new problems to us, so that set rules will not do, but each day must have added rules. if these rules are not obeyed, the scout who is negligent ought to be made to pay for her lack of obedience." "have you formulated any plan to begin with?" asked joan. "i thought that julie, as scout leader, could consult with me about that. although i think we ought to select a new orderly for each day, to see that the other scouts do what is required of them. if we begin with ruth, betty next day, and so on through the new membership, one each day, it brings us to the eighth day. of course julie, joan and i will not be orderlies. but the leader and corporal are over the orderly, and the captain over all of you." "what do you expect the orderly to do, verny?" asked joan. "she will read the rules for the day immediately after breakfast. every scout must take turns in being cook for camp one day. one must be wood-gatherer, one must see that food supplies are on hand, some must do the fishing, and so on through the entire housekeeping list. this trains every one alike, and no partiality will be shown one who is a fine cook or one who is an awful one!" the girls laughed, and the captain continued: "then, we don't expect one to do all the heavy work while another goes free, and by partitioning the work and control each one does her bit. in case of any gross negligence or breaking of rules, the officer of the day, the corporal and the leader will decide the punishment. should need arise, the whole troop may act as a jury to judge the matter." after the captain had finished speaking, the scouts sat down and compiled a set of camp rules, and ruth was asked to print them neatly on cardboard, because ruth was the artistic scout of the group. this business disposed of, julie said: "now what shall we do to-day, girls?" "but you haven't chosen an orderly for the day!" called judith. "oh, that's so! well, it lies between ruth and amy, as they are the more experienced scouts, to act the first day." "don't choose me. i've got my work cut out already, if you expect these rules nicely printed," declared ruth. "all right, then; it's amy. no partiality meant, girls," julie reminded them. "more like 'malice aforethought,'" giggled joan. "why? isn't it an honor to be the orderly?" demanded julie. "it may _seem_ like an honor, but when it is thoroughly investigated it turns out to be just plain old hard work!" "sure, julie! don't you see, all the other scouts go scot free for the day, while the orderly has to see that everything is done properly and then take the blame if nothing is right," laughed judith. "well, amy is able to carry the burden, and it is only for a day; then another one has to do it," said the captain. when the weighty business of selecting rules and deciding on a recreation for the day was over, mrs. vernon said, "which did you decide to do first, hike or swim?" "is mr. gilroy coming over to visit us to-day?" asked ruth. "he invited himself to supper to-night, but i doubt if we see him before that time. why?" answered the captain. "because if he was coming, he would hike with us, and we'd rather wait for him, and swim first. but it doesn't matter now." "we'll go for the hike first, and when we get back a fine, cool swim will feel good," suggested the orderly for the day. "verny, do you know of any places one might choose for an objective on a hike?" asked joan. "yes, mr. gilroy gave me a county map that shows every good trail within twenty miles of here. i'll get it and we'll look it over." so saying, the captain went to her tent for the paper. they all sat about mrs. vernon as she studied the map and read aloud of various trails that sounded interesting. at last she said: "here's one that seems inviting. it is named 'river bend,' and the trail winds along one of the streams that is an outlet of our lake. the description says the blazes are old but distinct, and no one can miss the may. shall we try that trail?" "where does it end?" questioned hester. "how long is it to anywhere?" asked anne. "it's seven miles, and forks when one reaches the hut of an indian canoe-builder. one fork runs to river bend village, and the other to a ravine that is said to be most picturesque." "we'll take that trail and decide which place we prefer to see, the village or the ravine, after we have hiked a while," said the orderly. "why not take a little flour and fat and catch some fish at noon, and sup while on the trail?" asked julie. "why not carry our dinner stuff and have a _regular_ meal while we are about it," said anne, who could not forego a dinner. the other scouts laughed, and mrs. vernon replied, "all right, it sounds inviting." so each scout carried a tin cup and platter, while the orderly saw to it that each one carried part of the dinner material. it fell to the captain's lot to carry the frying-pan, and to anne to carry the two-quart pail; the others had the flour, bacon, potatoes, etc. river bend trail led down to the end of the lake, where the stream started. it wound in and out, as it followed the uneven edges of little moose lake, running over mossy knolls, through rivulets, past waterfalls, and around impassable obstructions. thus the detouring added greatly to the distance the map had vouched for. the scouts had paper and pencils in case they wished to sketch anything interesting, but most of the paper was used in writing notes along the way, to be entered later in their records. they had gone about two miles when julie stopped short and held up a warning hand. "verny, listen! i heard a baby crying pitifully over in those high bushes." "mercy me! do you suppose there can be any gypsies here?" cried amy, the timid. "gypsies--nothing! but how could a baby get in that jungle?" retorted joan. then they distinctly heard the plaintive wail, as of a very young child in fear and distress. even mrs. vernon turned pale at the picture that presented itself to her thought. "girls, we've got to investigate this. it doesn't seem plausible that any one would bring a kidnapped child to this wilderness to lose it, but one can never tell!" declared julie. "it's a baby, that we know, so it's up to us to save it," added ruth. "the poor little dear!" wept betty, the tender-hearted. so the scouts began cutting a way through the almost impenetrable growth that divided the trail from the place whence came the cries. but as they went deeper in the jungle and got nearer the spot they were aiming for, the cries ceased. "dear, dear! i hope the little thing isn't past aid?" murmured the captain, anxiously. that urged the scouts to greater endeavor, and finally julie broke into a tiny clearing of about three feet across, and saw a little grey rabbit, which had been caught in an old mesh-wire trap set by some one long before and forgotten. "oh, you poor little creature!" cried julie, falling upon her knees to rescue the soft little thing. "is it alive, jule?" asked a chorus of anxious voices. "yes, but it is awfully afraid of me. i can't do anything for it." "maybe it will bite you--do be careful, jule!" called amy, deliciously thrilled at this fearful risk her friend was taking. "bite!" scorned julie. "it's starved, and too weak to even nibble." "wait, julie! let me throw my hat over it so it won't see what we are doing. then it won't feel so frightened. remember the 'boulder' we all saw, and when it moved we had a panic? well, our sense of sight was all that caused that fear. it is the same now--what the rabbit doesn't see it won't fear," explained mrs. vernon. while it was hidden under the broad-brimmed scout hat, the rabbit was not aware of the willing rescuers, and soon julie had the snare open, and mrs. vernon held the little creature in her hat. "shall we let it go now?" asked some of the girls. "it may have an injured leg where the trap caught it. i think we will carry it home and feed it well, and then if it is all right, it can run away. it is sure to be caught by some larger animal if it is unable to jump or run," said the captain. "this will make a dandy story to write down in our record book, verny, won't it?" asked ruth, eagerly. "yes, but it will also show how inexperienced we are in wildwood sounds,--to mistake the rabbit's cry for a child's wail." "but it _did_ sound exactly like a baby, there's no denying that!" exclaimed julie, frowning as she realized how they all were caught napping. "this reminds me of a story alec told us yesterday when we were waiting at the campfire for you lost scouts," said hester. "he and his troop went on a three days' hike in the country last year, and at night they found an old abandoned barn where they decided to sleep. the floor was in good condition, with a bit of hay piled up in one corner. but the loft overhead was in such bad condition that in many places the flooring was broken down completely. as there was no ladder or stairway to reach it, the boys concluded there was no use in examining it--no one would be up there! "so they stretched out on the hay and were soon sound asleep. but some time after that--no one knew how long they had been asleep--ned nudged alec and whispered: 'some one's in the loft!' "alec sat up and listened. sure enough, he could hear a man snoring as distinctly as he could hear dick breathe. "so he roused the other scouts, and they very quietly crept over to the side where they could get a grip on the joists to help themselves up. each scout had armed himself in some way. one had an old pitchfork with but one prong. another had a rake handle, one found the curved handle of a feed-grinder, and so on. "when they got to the shaky, decayed floor above, the snoring had stopped, so they knew the tramp was aware of their approach. they had to be awfully careful, too, so as not to fall through any of the broken places in the floor. but they each had their lanterns, and used them before they took a step. alec went first, and threw the light back and forth to avoid a sudden surprise from the tramp. "'there's something moving over on that pile of old burlap sacks!' whispered alec, the instant he saw a creeping movement there. "several of the boys then jumped and began beating up the sacks violently. but as suddenly, a pair of wings flapped up in their faces with a whirring sound, and a barn-owl began to screech madly as she rose and flew through a hole in the roof." hester laughed as she reached this part of the story, and all the scouts joined in. julie, who had not heard it before, said: "thank goodness, we girls are not the only ones to be taken in, then!" "alec said there are lots of wild creatures that make sounds exactly like human beings. and that owl snored just like a man." by this time they had regained the trail, and mrs. vernon tenderly adjusted the trembling rabbit. the hat so covered it that it could curl inside and not see a thing to cause it any fear, and thus it was carried along, to be cared for later on and then regain its freedom. the scouts found many interesting subjects for discussion along the trail, until they reached a wide shallow stream that came down the steep mountainside and emptied into the river. "it's not on the map, and it sure cuts off further progress," said the captain. "it's shallow--we can wade it," suggested julie. "let us go upstream and find a narrow ford, or some rocks that we can cross on," added mrs. vernon. they went up on the near side of the stream, but the banks became so rocky and impassable that they found it was useless to try to climb them. the scenery was wild and wonderful, so several good pictures were taken of the tumbling waters and rocks, and then they all retraced their steps. "now, it's wade or go back," declared joan. "stuff your stockings down in your boots and sling them about your necks by the strings," advised julie. this was done, and one after another the scouts waded through the stream, shouting, screaming if one slipped on a stone, laughing when one stepped in a hole and got wet to the waist, but having plenty of fun. "how did bunny stand the voyage?" called julie, the moment the captain stepped up on the bank. "bunny is curled up fast asleep, i guess," said she. "i wish it was noon. did any one hear the twelve o'clock whistle blow?" laughed joan. "why--are you hungry?" questioned anne. "aren't you?" retorted the orderly. "sure! i always am," laughed anne, frankly. "then why not say it is dinner-time, verny?" asked ruth. "you must be hungry, too!" declared judith. "i bet we all are, if verny will take the count," asserted hester. "well, we may as well stop here beside this stream and eat, as to go on and fare worse," admitted the captain. "some one's got to fish," said judith. "why not all fish and the sooner catch what is needed?" advised mrs. vernon. so this suggestion was followed out. four goodly sized fish rewarded the combined efforts of the fishermen that time, and then two scouts were detailed to clean them, while two went to build a fire. others were tolled off to attend to other work, and in half an hour a savory meal was ready. when all signs of cooking and eating were cleaned away, mrs. vernon took the bunny again and said they had best go on. "outdoor cooking and eating always makes me feel fine. i can walk a hundred miles now, and feel it no more than if it were a trifle," said julie, taking a deep breath. "all the same, we haven't gone five miles yet, according to verny's map, and there is still that walk home, so don't brag too much, julie," advised betty, seriously. "we haven't voted yet whether we want to go on to the village or to the ravine," now said ruth. "i'd like to visit the old indian canoe-maker, and have a chat with him," said joan. "his time is money, so he will charge us for chatting," returned julie, grinning. "i think joan's idea of visiting the indian a good one, girls; why not go there instead of to either of the other places?" the captain's suggestion was agreed upon, and the scouts turned in at the willow-arched walk that led to the indian's hut. a wide brook ran under the willows, and here they saw several canoes waiting to be used. the pathway that ran alongside the brook was littered with rubbish of all kinds,--the accumulation of years of slovenly housekeeping and lazy carpenter work out of doors. but it was evident that the indian was neither slovenly nor lazy when it pertained to making canoes. every canoe there was a splendid example of workmanship. when the scouts reached the door, the owner came out to see them. "morn'," said he, bowing seriously to his visitors. "are you mike, the indian?" asked mrs. vernon, after acknowledging the salutation. "me mike--wan'da canoe?" "no, we came to visit you. we are friends of mr. gilroy's," explained the captain. "huh! mees'er gilloy use mike's canoes." "so he told us. he says they are the finest anywhere," said julie, ingratiatingly. "bedder buy one," came from the indian. "verny, we might _rent_ another one--we only have two in the lake, you know, and we all prefer canoes to boats," whispered joan. "we can't afford any added expense," replied mrs. vernon. but mike understood the meaning of that whisper, so he wisely said: "come see fine canoes." he led the way to his shop on the banks of the little stream and displayed the various methods of his trade. the girls found it all very instructive and interesting. then he said: "mike take canoe to lake fer leddy--no charge." "what do you mean by that?" wondered julie. "mike give fine canoe--one week try; leddy not like, mike come take him home. no pay." "but we don't want any more canoes. we have two now," asserted mrs. vernon. mike shrugged his shoulders silently. "how much you rent canoe for?" asked julie, believing the indian could comprehend better if she used bad english. "mike no rent his canoe--sell him cheap." "we can't afford to buy one, but we might rent it if you make a low price," bargained julie. mike shook his head decidedly. "no rent--onny buy." "come, girls! we must start on, now that we've had our visit," said the captain, turning to go. the scouts reluctantly turned also, but mike saw their faces, and also knew that the lady was boss. so he seemed to reconsider. "mike got good fren' by mees'er gilloy. mebbe fren's of him be fren's of mike. how much you give for rent canoe?" every one turned suddenly at that hope held forth. "what do you ask?" countered mrs. vernon. "got money now to pay?" asked mike, cutely. julie exclaimed, "certainly!" but the captain saw through the shrewd bargainer, and said: "we'll have mr. gilroy do this business for us." now mike had no idea of losing these customers, nor of having to deal with a good business man like mr. gilroy, so he said guilelessly: "solly dese gals no paddle home in dis canoe." several of the scouts instantly wished to do so, but the captain said: "corporal, see that your troop does not fall for this enticing snare." the scouts laughed when they comprehended mike's intentions, and mrs. vernon courageously walked away. but mike followed. "canoe rent for four dollah week." "what! that's sixteen a month! i guess not!" cried julie. "fren's of mees'er gilloy get him fer tree dollah week." "no sir-ee!" retorted julie. "mike, i'll pay you two dollah week--or six dollah mont--or feefteen dollah season. what you take?" all the scouts laughed, but mike frowned. "me tak feefteen dollah now to augus' furst," said he. every one hushed to get every word of this bargaining. "we want him in augus', too. him worth feefteen dollah, no more, till september ten," declared julie, slapping her palms together to emphasize her words. mike sighed audibly. "all light. but mike no carry him an' lose day. gals mus' tak now an' pay down." then every one turned to every one else, and word ran round: "who's got any money?" "i've got three dollars--that's all," said mrs. vernon. "mike, we got tree dollahs only. come to camp and get rest," said julie. "you tak him along?" asked mike, anxiously. "are you 'fraid to trust us?" countered julie. "oh, no! mike no wan' trouble carry him so far, da's all." so the three dollars was paid down, balance to be paid when mike called for it; canoe to be taken along with no added work expected of mike. mike launched the canoe in the stream that passed his shop, and several of the girls squatted in the bottom. but it proved overweighted for such a shallow stream, and two had to get out again. julie and joan then paddled it safely to the deeper river, where amy and judith, being lightest of the scouts, got in and sat in the bottom. mrs. vernon and the rest of the troop stood watching eagerly while the two girls paddled silently and swiftly up the river to the place where the tumbling stream joined river bend. here they halted to allow their other friends to catch up with them. julie and joan were complimented upon their prowess, and when ruth and betty exchanged places with amy and judith, the canoe went on its way up the river, while the other scouts continued hiking back towards camp. "it wouldn't take us long to reach home if we were all in canoes," said anne. "it would if _you_ were in one--you are so heavy!" laughed hester. a titter sounded from the girls, but mrs. vernon held up a hand for silence. "was that thunder i heard from over the mountain?" "no, that was only julie's paddle echoing down the stream," giggled judith. but a louder rumble told the captain she was right in her surmise. "dear me! i hope we won't be caught in another thunder-storm," said she, holding the bunny closer to her side. but in answer to her fear, a sudden flash and a nearer peal of thunder warned them all to seek shelter if possible. "if it rains we're bound to be soaked!" sighed anne. "you big silly! did any of us think water was dry?" asked hester, scornfully. "i do wish those girls hadn't left us in the canoe! if it rains they may upset," worried the captain. "they didn't leave _us_ in the canoe, captain. and we are just as likely to meet with mishap as they," laughed judith, to cheer every one up. "well, it's going to break mighty quick! see that inky cloud scudding across there?" exclaimed amy, pointing at the sky. "verny, why not make a quick shelter to crawl under?" suggested anne. "think you can do it?" answered the captain. "hester's got the rubber cover that mike gave us for the canoe when it is not in use, and we might stretch that between four trees," added anne. "that's so. let's try it!" agreed hester, eagerly. quickly, then, the scouts chopped down the scrub bush where four young trees were found for the corners, and then, while anne and hester secured the four corners of the cover, the other girls ditched around the spot so the rain would run off and not soak their camping place. anne and hester completed their work before the others, and then hastily bunched a mass of chopped-down bushes all around the temporary tent to break the driving rain when it came. the spot thus enclosed was not large, but by huddling together they managed to keep dry. "how nice it is to sit in a dry place and watch everything else gradually soak with the rain," ventured amy, comfortably. "no one would have dreamed that a shower would come up to-day, the weather was so perfect when we left camp," said judith. "do any of you girls understand weather-lore?" asked mrs. vernon. no one did, so the captain continued: "if you study wind and cloud, wildwood creatures and other animals, you will find much to interest you in the weather. "when rain is coming you will see the sheep turn their tails to windward, but if the day is to be fine the sheep will graze with faces to the wind. "cows always gather and huddle together at a sheltered end of the pasture lot when a storm is approaching. cattle are restless and uneasy before a storm breaks. and cows will fling up their heels, or sheep will gambol as if to make the most of the sunshine just before a prolonged spell of bad weather. pigs, too, will grunt loudly and cavort about uneasily in their pens, carrying bits of straw from their bedding in their mouths, before a heavy rainstorm. "with wild creatures you will find partridges sitting in the fields when thunder is in the air. but the moment the storm blows over, the birds are alive with energy again. rabbits and other night-feeders can be found out hunting on a sunny day, but that means there will be a wet night. "most of our birds in field and forest know when a storm is brewing, and they can be seen seeking for extra food to carry home, or, perhaps, devouring it quickly, storing it up against the time everything is soaked with the rain. "bees seldom fly far from the hive when rain is threatening; flies are annoying and sting sharply before rain, and many times they cling tenaciously to wall or furniture,--that is to keep flat to a surface, so their bodies will not become damp. "a large ring can be found to encircle the moon the night preceding a rainstorm. should the storm be two or three days off, the ring is wider and you will find fainter shadows inside the main circle,--one for each day. "mountain moss is found to be soft and limp, and smoke generally beats downward when the east wind presages rain. callouses on the feet will ache painfully; spiders will be seen strengthening their webs against moisture-weight; morning-glories will close up tightly; mushrooms are found to be numerous; and there are a dozen other weather-signs that i forget now." the scouts had listened with interest, for this was new to them, although hester added: "i've heard the saying, 'mackerel sky, twelve hours dry.'" "yes, and another one goes, 'rain before seven, fine before eleven,'" said judith. "you will find in summer that heavy dews in the night mean fine weather the following day," added mrs. vernon. "also any thunder-storm that comes with the wind soon passes away, but let it come against the wind, and it is apt to last." "this one came with the wind and is blowing away already. see!" exclaimed amy, eagerly. "yes, girls, now we can do as the arabs--fold our tent and steal away," said mrs. vernon, rising carefully so as not to jar the bunny which had remained very quiet all this time. "i wonder what the girls in the canoe did while the rain was falling," said judith. "leave it to julie to find a way. i'll say she landed them all on the bank and then turned the canoe upside down over their heads," laughed hester. when the canoeists arrived at camp, sometime after the hikers got there, they exchanged experiences. hester's surmise turned out to be exactly right, and the girls in the canoe were as dry as those who sat under the rubber cover. chapter eight jake's interview with a skunk "gilly, do you know of any vegetable dye we can find in the woods to dye some burlap for decorations?" asked julie one day. "yes, you can take the berries and leaves of red or staghorn sumac and boil them together to make a black dye, or ink. if you need ink in a hurry, you can take the _genus coprinus_, commonly known as the ink mushroom, and pluck it at the end of its first day. the spores are black, and the gills turn into a black fluid at the last. this produces a splendid writing ink, or will dye grass, quills, and other wildwood stuffs." "speaking of quills, gilly--why can't we have chickens as the grey fox boys have?" asked joan. "what would you do if they got the gapes, and no one would feed them chopped onions?" laughed mr. gilroy. "i'm not looking for trouble, but for pets to have about camp," retorted joan. "i'd hardly call a chicken a pet!" laughed julie. "even so, julie, it would cluck and _appear_ to be friendly, even it wasn't." "what you scouts need is a good frisky dog for a pet. you can have chickens, if you like, but they are a nuisance. they stray away to lay their eggs, and if they were kept cooped you'd have to spend valuable time making a suitable inclosure. but a dog will go hiking with you, guard you at night from elephants and other prowling animals of the jungle, and be a fine old pal to boot," said mr. gilroy. "oh, why didn't we think to bring jippy," exclaimed amy. jip was a little poodle of about fifteen years and had had the rickets for the past five years, so he had to be carried about. the moment the scouts saw that amy was in earnest they fairly roared, and judith finally said: "oh, amy's catching the _ingénue_ habit from betty! what shall we do with two of them on hand?" "had we but known of this dire need of a dog, we would have brought towser--had he lived. he was only twenty-two this march, and had full use of his bark even though he had no teeth or eyesight. but, alas! alas! towser is no more!" sighed julie, rolling her eyes. as towser had been one of the "old settlers" in elmertown, he was known to every man, woman and child there. many a time, because he was stone-deaf and had not heard the blast from the horn, some one would have to rush out to rescue him from a passing automobile. so julie's lament caused a new burst of merriment. "stop all fooling now, scouts, and listen to me," said mr. gilroy. "i mean a regular dog--an irish terrier, or a bulldog, to chum with and be of some good to you. how'd you like it?" "there ain't no sech critter in camp," retorted julie. "but i know where to get one! his name is jake, and he is very fond of the ladies, i'm told." "his name sounds dreadfully rakish, gilly," teased joan. "if jacob is as faithful as his name would imply, we'd like to meet him," added mrs. vernon, smiling. "you shall. he lives at the farm where my overseer is, and the next time mr. benson is due here, i'll see that jake accompanies him. if both sides are mutually attracted, the dog shall stay to give you scouts something to do," declared mr. gilroy. "what kind of a dog is he, gilly?" asked betty, eagerly. "he is a prize airedale. but he is so clever that he tries to run everything on the farm, consequently mr. benson always has to separate jake from the other dogs in the neighborhood." for the next two days the scouts were kept busy constructing a fine kennel for jake to live in when he joined their camp. everything imaginable was done to add to the comfort and luxury of this "dog's life"; and the third day they started for the bungalow to be introduced to jake, who was expected to arrive that morning. it was a warm, drowsy day, and the wildwood creatures seemed to be keeping quiet. even the bees hummed less noisily over the flowers they were robbing of nectar. the girls strolled slowly along the pathway, stopping now and then to watch a bird or examine a flower. they were just passing the bend where the tumbling brook could be plainly seen from the trail when, suddenly, julie held up a warning hand for quiet. every one stopped short and waited. she pointed silently across the bushes in the direction of a long fallen tree that lay on the bank of the stream. the scouts looked, but saw nothing to cause this interest. then she whispered warily, "i saw a big creature creeping along that log!" "really!" "what did it look like? which way did it go?" were questions hoarsely whispered. "it crawled on that log and suddenly disappeared. maybe it jumped into the water when it saw us. i am thinking it was a beaver," returned julie. "oh, how wonderful! if we could only see it at work," cried some of the scouts. "how big was it, julie?" now asked mrs. vernon. "it went so fast that i couldn't see well, but i should say it was about as big as a very large cat,--maybe larger if we were closer," said julie. "dear me, if we didn't have to go for jake we might sit and wait for it to appear again. if it is a beaver, i'd love to watch it build a dam," sighed ruth. "i hope jake won't want to chase it, on our way back," betty worried, as the thought struck her. "we'll hold jake on a leash. and if he doesn't make a fuss we might creep over and watch for the animal's appearance again," added julie. "then the sooner we go and get jake, the sooner we'll be back here," was the sensible remark of joan. the scouts now hurried along the trail and soon reached the bungalow, where a splendid airedale was sleeping in the sunshine. he was stretched out full length right in the way where one would have to pass to go up the steps to the verandah. "oh, are you jake?" called julie quickly, when she saw the dog. "isn't he a beaut?" cried joan, admiring the shapely form as it jumped up to growl at the visitors. "why, jake, don't begin our relations with a growl! don't you know we have to keep the peace all summer?" laughed julie, snapping her fingers to the dog. mr. gilroy heard voices and came out on the verandah. the moment he greeted the scouts familiarly, jake wagged his stump of a tail and ran up to show his friendship for his master's friends. the girls fussed over the dog immediately, and mr. gilroy smiled. "well, what do you think of him, scouts? is he homely enough to win your pity? you know it is said, 'pity is akin to love.'" "he's a regular peach, gilly!" exclaimed joan. "just what we need at camp," added judith. and in the next ten minutes the dog had won high favor with his future companions. then the scouts told about the animal they believed to be a beaver, so they wanted to hurry back and watch. "but hold to the leash if you go near the log. jake is a born hunter," advised mr. benson. "oh, he is very obedient if you speak sternly to him," added mr. gilroy. "if he tugs or wants to run, just command in severe tones, 'to heel, jake,' and he will obey like a lamb." jake wagged his tail as he watched mr. gilroy, and when the order was given, 'to heel, jake,' he crept behind his master. "oh, the darling! doesn't he mind splendidly!" cried several of the scouts. "i'll come along pretty soon. wait for me near the log where you saw the beaver. i'll finish up with benson and then join you there," said mr. gilroy, as the scouts started down the trail again, leading jake by the leash. every one was delighted with the meek and obedient dog, and the fussing was accepted by him as his due, but he paid no attention to the numerous pats and endearing names given him as they walked along. then they reached the open space where the log bounded the edge of the running water. it was about a hundred yards from the trail and distinctly visible because the brook was lower than the footpath where the scouts stood. "there it is! i saw it!" exclaimed joan, excitedly. at the same moment jake also saw something doubtful moving swiftly out of sight back of the log. the girls ran over to the bushes to see the better, and julie's hold on the leash relaxed unconsciously. in that same second, jake took mean advantage of her inattention to him and darted away. "oh, oh! come back here, jake!" yelled julie instantly. but the dog stood upon a rock, his ears erect, his nose sniffing as he pointed it in the direction of the log. his tail trembled spasmodically and the hair along his spine stood up stiffly. "i say, to heel, jake. come back, to heel!" shouted every scout in the group. but jake was deaf to their calls. then the captain called to him, but he bounded from the rock and managed to force his way through the bushes, the leash catching here and there on stumps, on sharp rocks, or on bushes. "what shall we do? now he'll kill the little beaver!" wailed betty, wringing her hands. "some one run back and get gilly! _he'll_ make him mind," ordered julie. "who's orderly for the day? i want to wait and watch what he does," said joan. "oh, pshaw! i'm orderly, and i s'pose i've got to go," declared judith, impatiently. "i'll go for you, judy, 'cause i can't bear to wait here and see jake kill anything," said betty, deeply distressed. "all right, judy,--let betty go instead, if she likes," agreed the corporal. so betty ran swiftly away while the other scouts resumed their coaxings to draw jake away from the log. julie now started to break away through the bush to get the dog, and several of the girls followed closely at her heels. when they reached the place where they had seen something move, they also saw tracks in the soft soil. "it really is a wild animal," said julie, excited at sight of the footprints. "but what? do you know?" asked judith. "no, but it must be a beaver--or a fox. i don't know which," confessed julie. but they couldn't get at jake. he was racing excitedly up and down on the log, his nose close to the strangely odorous scent, and all the commands and persuasions from the scouts failed to make the least impression on him. his nervous short yelps showed how keen he was to have a face-to-face bout with the animal. julie tried to step on the leash, but he dragged her foot so that she suddenly sat down violently on the ground. then he nosed under the grass that hung over the brook, and finally swam over to the other side. there he stood and watched nervously, but the girls could not get him back again. "talk about his minding! why, he's the cussedest dog i ever saw!" complained julie, as she got up and shook her clothes free of the briars. "there's no use standing in this baking sun to look at jake standing on the other bank!" exclaimed joan, angrily eying the disobedient dog. "we'll go back to the shady trail and watch for gilly," said julie, starting back to join the captain. but they kept calling to jake as they retraced their steps. when they got back to the slight elevation where mrs. vernon and amy had waited, anxiously watching results, they saw jake make a leap and swim quickly back across the brook to the log. "he must have seen or heard something that time," whispered hester. "yes, 'cause he's stretched out on that log nervously wagging his tail with his eyes glued on something," admitted amy. then they caught their breath. the scouts saw a movement in the green leaves at the end of the log and then--jake was creeping stealthily across that log, as if he also saw what he wanted to pounce upon. "oh, oh! jake's got it! he's jumped upon it!" screamed julie, frantically. "why, it's a great big tomcat! they're fighting!" cried hester, too excited to stand still, but jumping up and down. "a cat! gilly hasn't a cat that color!" declared joan. "girls!" fairly hissed julie. "i bet it's a wildcat--and it will kill jake as sure as anything!" "no, no! oh, girls, i just saw it, too! it's a skunk! run, run--for your lives!" cried mrs. vernon, turning to run up the trail towards the bungalow. but several of the scouts would not desert the dog. he had carried the skunk off its feet with his unexpected leap upon it, and the two rolled and fought madly for supremacy. the leash, instead of tripping jake, got tangled in the skunk's legs, and both animals rolled back and forth. the enraged beast fired the deadly fluid to blind her antagonist, but it drenched the fallen tree only. then jake caught a grip on her throat and shook her head; still she was game and kept on struggling. again they rolled over together, the skunk trying to get to the brink of the water, where she would manage to roll them both in. but jake understood that motive, too, and braced his feet against the stones in their way. a second volley of the ill-smelling spray from the skunk struck at random, and then jake gave her neck another sudden shake. this time it was effective, and the head suddenly hung limp. jake had broken her neck, and was the victor! he now took great pains to drag the trophy through the brush to present to his friends in the roadway. the leash caught several times and almost snapped his own neck, and the skunk was heavy, but he managed to drag it along. when julie saw his intent she screamed and warned the girls to flee! and in running up the trail they met mr. gilroy, who had been summoned by half-crazed betty's crying, "jake and the beaver are killing each other!" mr. gilroy did not stop to hear what julie tried to gasp, but he ran down and saw jake bringing the skunk out into the pathway. "to heel! to heel, jake!" shouted mr. gilroy, holding his nose when the dog tried to jump upon him in the ecstasy of having achieved such a great deed. "what shall we do with him? he can't sleep at dandelion camp to-night," wailed the girls, as they, too, held their noses. "i'll have to take him back to the barn and have hiram turn the hose on him for twenty-four hours." "isn't there a reward for skunks in the country?" now asked the captain. "not only a reward, but the pelts are valuable since they became so fashionable," remarked mr. gilroy, complacently. "well, jake's earned his keep to-day, then," declared judith. "but it will cost more than the skunk brings to pay for the nine hundred and ninety-nine bottles of _fleur-de-lis_ toilet water gilly will have to use to change jake's scent!" laughed julie. chapter nine lessons in tracking "well, scouts! that shows us how little we know about wild animal's tracks," remarked mrs. vernon, after jake had been made to go back to the bungalow, and the troop went on to camp. "i could have sworn that skunk's footprints were a coon's or a fox's,--or something big!" exclaimed julie, trying to justify her mistake. "to me, the tracks in the soil looked like a lynx's, or something," added joan, hoping to cover the ignominy of having unearthed a skunk without knowing the animal. "isn't there some sort of book that will teach us how to recognize tracks, girls?" asked hester. "is there, verny? maybe we can get one at the bungalow," added julie. "i don't know of any at this moment, but mr. gilroy surely will know," replied the captain. so they all went to the bungalow the next morning to inquire after jake's scent, and also to borrow any books on the subject they had discussed. "yes, i have several books, and let me tell you they are precious, too. there are but few on this subject, and the one i consider the best was compiled by ernest seton-thompson under great difficulties. he had to gather all information from plaster casts made in the tracks themselves, or from sketches, or from camera pictures taken on the spot. "as every different animal leaves a different track, there are many illustrations necessary in such a work, and that makes the book most desirable and also very expensive. but it is great fun to study the pictures and then try to recognize the tracks in the woods." "we haven't found any about camp," said judith, regretfully. "there must be all sorts of tracks there, but you don't know how to find them. now, if you want to study this book and then practice early some morning, i'll come down and help find the tracks," mr. gilroy said. "oh, great! will you come to-morrow morning?" asked the girls. "hadn't we better study the book first, scouts, and let gilly know when we are ready to go tracking?" suggested the captain. so for a time every one was busy reading the book and trying to discover a track in the woods near camp. but julie laughed as she said, "it isn't likely that a wild animal will prowl close to our camp at night. we'll have to hunt one some distance away." mr. gilroy overheard the remark as he came down the trail. "sometimes the animals will come quite close to camp just to find out what it is that is intruding on their forest domain." "well, then, i wish they'd hurry and come here!" declared judith. "when you are ready to hunt tracks, i'll arrange some baits around your camp grounds; and the next morning i'll vow you'll see that you've had callers while you slept. so quiet are they that you won't hear them, either," said mr. gilroy. "we are ready to hunt now, gilly. we know everything in the book and are crazy to test it," said joan, eagerly. "then i'll tell you what we might do. i was going over to grey fox camp, but if you girls will deliver a message for me, i will go home and attend to the bait i spoke of. hiram and i will do the rest." "all right--what do you want us to say to the boys?" agreed the scouts. "now, listen! tell them that i want them to start out at dawn in the morning and hunt up all the tracks they can trace about their camp. then to-morrow afternoon they are to come over here with their reports and have a match with you girls. the side showing the best results and most interesting experience shall have a prize. how does it strike you?" mr. gilroy glanced at the pleased faces as he concluded. "fine! do they know much about tracks?" returned julie. "oh, yes, but then you must understand that they have been scouting for more than four years. tell them that this is your first summer in a genuine forest camp, and they need not expect you to accomplish wonders. then you girls must turn in and do your best!" laughed mr. gilroy. the scouts were most enthusiastic, and gaily agreed to follow mr. gilroy's suggestions. when they were ready to hike over the crest, the captain said, "we may as well invite the boys to supper to-morrow and make a party of it." "that will be splendid. and i'll contribute my quota to the dinner instead of eating it at home," added mr. gilroy. "we may have quail or partridge for dinner if we track the birds carefully," suggested joan, giggling. "venison steaks are better," hinted mrs. vernon. "what's the matter with bear steaks, while we're about it? they're said to be gamier in flavor," laughed julie. "we'll have all three, and serve a ten-course dinner to the boys," added ruth. with light banter the scouts left mr. gilroy where the trails diverged,--they to cross the crest and invite the boys over for supper the next day, and mr. gilroy to go home to find the "bait." dandelion camp was abandoned for a long time that day, and it was too late in the afternoon when the scouts returned, to ask what had been done in the woods during their absence; but a great deal had taken place there, as hiram and his master could have told had they been so inclined. even jake could have testified to mysterious actions, and many queer maneuvers of familiar animals from the barnyard, but the girls never asked _him_. their faith in mr. gilroy was sublime! while the dandelioners sat eating their camp supper, they discussed the boys they had visited that day. "i declare! i wonder if we ever _will_ know as much about the woods as those grey fox boys do," sighed hester, taking a bite of baked potato. "sure! we know almost as much as they do already," bragged joan. "they gave us a lovely luncheon--and all with nothing to do it with," added judith. "and it's up to us, girls, to give them a dinner that will make their eyes pop out to-morrow!" declared ruth. "let's plan it now, and do as much towards it as possible, then we can give that much extra time to tracking," suggested julie. "and, scouts! i want you to display every bit of fine work you have done since we've been in camp, and all the work we did at camp last summer, as well, and brought with us this year," advised the captain. "yes, we don't want those boys to think we don't know a thing! the stuff we've made is so different from what they have, too," admitted the leader. so the evening was employed in arranging many exhibits to impress the visitors the following afternoon. then the scouts rolled into bed. "verny, you'd better set the alarm clock for four in the morning," called julie, the last thing. "yes, we want to be up and ready to start when gilly comes for us," added joan, the corporal. "all right. go to sleep now, or you'll all over-sleep," laughed the captain from her tent. but there was no need of an alarm clock. the girls were up half an hour before it rang, and were impatiently waiting for the arrival of their instructor in tracking. some of the scouts had gone into the bushes to begin a search, but had found nothing. it took but a few moments after mr. gilroy arrived to outline his plans for the work and fun. "we will scatter in couples to hunt for any sort of track whatever. the first couple that discovers any genuine track must call out, then we all will run and study it for what it is, or where it leads to. now, pair off, scouts, but the captain and i will follow at a distance and hurry to the first pair who find a track." "there are nine of us--how about the odd one?" asked julie. "let the three youngest go together," returned the captain. so amy, betty and judith hunted in trio. it was a "still hunt" for a time, since every one was too intent on finding a track to speak. most of the scouts took to the dense bushes and woods, but the leader sought in a clearing and was the first to summon the others. "oh, come, every one! we've found a great big track!" called julie, as she and her companion knelt to inspect the prints. every one raced wildly to the clearing, and, sure enough, there were hoof prints distinctly marked in the soil. the trail led across the clearing into the dense forest. "aren't they big?" excitedly asked joan. "they're made by a deer!" said julie, boastfully. "are they, gilly?" asked the girls as the judge came up. he pretended to study them carefully, and then said: "i shall have to wait and compare them with those in the book." "maybe it is a reindeer?" suggested betty, eagerly. "mercy no! we don't have reindeers south of the pole!" declared her sister. "look here, girls! this creature only had two legs--it left only two hoofmarks, one for each side," cried judith now. "then i know what it was! it was that familiar animal that carries a pitchfork, smells of sulphur and is known to have hoofs," retorted julie, making them all laugh merrily. "i'm sure i have no desire to trail _him_!" said the captain, holding up both hands as if to ward off such a danger. "let him go to his lair in peace!" "all joking aside, girls, this is a queer track--only two feet instead of four. let's follow and see where it goes," suggested mr. gilroy. so they trailed the plainly visible tracks, and after a distance, julie said: "whatever it is, it couldn't have traveled so far as this if it was a cripple. it just _couldn't_ walk on two hind legs all this way." mr. gilroy had to laugh loudly at this, but he said, "no, but don't give up hope! you may stumble right over the prostrate buck." but the trail now crossed itself several times, and the scouts wondered which way the two-legged creature finally went, for all tracks were obliterated after that criss-cross place in a tiny clearing. the corporal was determined to pick it up again somewhere, so she finally came out to the trail that ran from the camp to the bungalow. here she wandered up and down for a short distance, and then spied the tracks again. "oh, i've got him again. he goes right up this trail," so she followed. the others followed at a distance, and then she shouted, "he prowled around gilly's house, too, last night, for i see the hoofmarks here." julie would have gone after the tracks to the right "lair," but hiram came forward from the barnyard to meet her. he had heard her call to the others, and offered a solution to the problem. "i seen them tracks this mornin', too, miss julie, and i'm sure that animal come to the barnyard las' night to feed offen the hay and corn he could find around there." "oh, really! would one do that?" asked julie, amazed. "sure he would, if he was a deer. an' them tracks ain't no grizzly, er fox, er other critter, you know." "no; of course, it is a deer, as one can see by the tracks. but i'm sorry we have to end in such an ordinary place as the barnyard," sighed julie. "i see'd some queer tracks down by that log where jake caught the skunk," now hinted hiram. that was enough! in another moment every scout was bounding down the trail in order to reach the spot first and win honor by knowing the track correctly. hester found these tracks first, and shouted to her friends, "this has small cloven feet, but there are only two legs, also! now and then you can see where one track looks as if a hind foot had broken in on another one!" "oh, girls! that explains that other two-footed animal!" now exclaimed julie, quickly. "what, what?" demanded every one eagerly. "most likely the deer stepped daintily with its hind feet directly in the same track made by its forefeet. it said something about that in the book, you know." "do you think that is it, gilly?" now asked several anxious voices. "exactly! i was hoping you'd find that out," agreed he. "well, does this creature show any unusual tendencies, girls, by which you can recognize it?" laughed mrs. vernon. "not a thing! it starts from the trail and goes right through the brush where we broke a way that day the skunk was killed, and it stopped to question nothing. it must have been in a hurry to get a drink," explained joan. the trail plainly led to the brook, and ended there. no sign of anything going back again could be found, although the girls looked carefully over the entire place. then julie thought she saw something in the soft soil upon the opposite bank. to make sure, she waded through the shallow but swiftly running water, and there, on the steep bank, she saw the tracks again. "ha! i found 'em! plain as day. come and follow!" called she. and off she started. not more than a dozen yards along the top of the bank she found the tracks go down again; and through the brook she went, up the other side, and back to the brush-clearing on a new trail, following the cloven-footed tracks. out on the hard trail they were lost. "now, that makes two i've trailed and lost. it's a shame!" cried julie, stamping her foot. "'better to have trailed and lost than never to have found at all,'" misquoted mrs. vernon, laughingly. "if the first one was a deer, this second one must have been a little fawn," said judith. "is there any other animal that wears hoofs?" asked ruth, of no one in particular. now, mr. gilroy must have dreaded the reply, for he quickly changed the subject. "how many of you brought the plaster and bottle of water?" every one had. "well, why not make a little cast of both the tracks you do not recognize and then compare them with those in the book when we go back to camp?" this sounded fine, so the scouts were soon busy making casts of the tracks. when hard, they were handed to the captain and mr. gilroy to carry carefully until they all reached camp. quite near the camp ground hester made a discovery. "oh, come and see! here is something with toes. as big as a wildcat, or maybe a little bear!" yes, there were toes in this animal's tracks--as plain as could be. so the scouts guessed every animal known, excepting the coyote and water-loving creatures. after many futile suggestions, they made a plaster cast of these tracks also. "i'm going to carry this load back to camp, girls, and be ready for the next one you give me," announced mr. gilroy, starting to go down the trail. the next two tracks, one that of a large-toed animal and the other of one whose tracks showed how the hair grew down low on the hind legs,--for the hair showed in several of the imprints made of plaster,--strangely ended near the bungalow, and on the other side of the hard trail again, they ran as far as the barnyard. "i never saw the beat of it! any one would think gilly hung the bait on the barn door to entice the animals here," said julie, who was angry at winding up at such a place three times running. mr. gilroy had to laugh in spite of himself. "say, where did you put that bait, anyway, gilly?" demanded the scout leader, watching the man skeptically. "where we knew it would attract the best results." "gilly, i verily believe you are hoaxing us!" cried julie. mrs. vernon smiled at her bright scout, but mr. gilroy shook his head protestingly. "why should i hoax any one? i was laughing at the way you brave scouts dodged when joan said the animal they lost might be crouching on a bough of the trees." "no, that wasn't what made you laugh." then julie went over and held a secret conference with her corporal and ruth, and they, grinning, urged her to do as she suggested. so julie took a sample of the different casts made in the tracks, and left the others engaged in finding new and intricate tracks. mr. gilroy and the captain were not taken into the three scouts' confidence, but they must have suspected where julie proposed going, for soon after she had gone mrs. vernon said: "girls, if we expect to entertain the grey fox boys at dinner this afternoon, we'd better go back now and begin work." "without a clue to any wild animal we tracked?" sighed judith. "oh, yes, judy--we've got some fine clues, and by the time we're at camp and have our books out, julie will be back with proofs! come on," was joan's assurance to the girls. on the way, the scouts discussed the last track they had discovered. "i was sure it was a crow's," asserted amy. "no, it was more like a chicken-hawk's," hester added. "there wouldn't be any chicken-hawk around here in these woods," said joan. "maybe it was the american eagle," laughed mr. gilroy. "yes, it got tired of sitting on the flagpole where the colors have hung for four days without being taken in at night, as they should be," remarked the captain. "dear me, verny, there is so much to remember in camp. we always remember the flag after we are in bed at night," complained ruth. "the orderly will have to appoint a flagman for each day after this," said mrs. vernon. they finally reached camp, and had a light luncheon ready before julie returned. she came down the trail sprightly, with one hand holding something behind her, and singing as she came. "where have you been, julie?" asked several of the scouts. "did you find out what you went for?" asked others. "yep! i learned that we have among us the queerest sort of creature, girls. it really walks on two legs, holds its head upright, and belongs to the fox class. i tracked it right to our midst," laughed julie. the scouts seemed perplexed, and julie, too full of her discoveries to tease very long, said, "his name is 'foxy grandpa,' and you all know him well!" every eye glanced at mr. gilroy, and he laughingly replied, "why do you all seem to think i am that animal?" "because you are, gilly!" retorted julie. "and i'll prove it now, to every one's satisfaction." "first, then: did hiram miss any calves or pigs or other domestic animals from his barnyard yesterday?" mr. gilroy threw up both hands in submission when he saw the knowing look in the leader's eyes. "because here are the molds we made of the tracks found in the forest, girls. and here are molds i made of the heifer, a pig, the great dane, and a chicken, at the bungalow. can you find any difference?" both the captain and mr. gilroy laughed, but the scouts gasped in unbelief, "would gilly do such a thing?" not one bit of difference was found when comparing the molds of each animal, and then mr. gilroy had to tell how he did it. of course, the scouts laughed mirthlessly, for they were thinking of how those grey fox boys would jeer at their woodcraft. but julie now brought out in front, the hand which had held something behind her. "here is the hawk--or american eaglet. i brought it with me for dinner to-night. to gilly it will be crow-pie, but to us it will be spring chicken." and the leader tossed a dead chicken upon the grass. then she added: "that's what happens to all 'critters' that trespass on our land. hiram tells me that when a farmer catches an animal on his land, he generally holds it for ransom, or for food for himself, so we have not fared so badly, scouts, in this day's work! "behold the other trophies coming! i took them because they broke the law and trespassed on our estates last night." julie waved a hand dramatically towards the trail, and every one turned to look. hiram was slowly advancing toward camp, leading with one hand a fractious pig, and with the other hand dragging an unwilling half-grown heifer on a chain. jake was jumping about and barking excitedly as they came over and stood like prisoners at the bar. "mr. foxy grandpa," began julie, as severely as she could, "because of your crime of misleading trusting scouts into a snare, i pronounce this judgment upon you, and therefore levy upon your property to satisfy the judgment. "this wild deer and its little fawn shall henceforth be the property of the injured ones--insulted past all forgiveness by your fraud. and the innocent victims used to perpetrate your schemes, being as free from guile as the scouts themselves, shall dwell henceforth together in peace and tranquillity!" every one laughed heartily at the dénouement for it was so like julie; but mrs. vernon added, "julie you speak exactly like the millennial times, when the lion and the lamb shall dwell in love and peace together." "the lion will dwell with the lamb, all right, but the lamb will be the _piece_ inside the lion," added mr. gilroy; "just as this pig will live in camp! such a life as it will lead you!" "no good talking 'sour grapes', now, gilly," advised julie, wisely. "the calf and the pig remain, no matter what sort of life they lead us." "what can you expect to do with two such pets?" asked mr. gilroy, who was honestly amazed at the scouts' unexpected appropriation. "first, build a pen for them, and second, have veal and pork before we leave for home!" retorted julie. she then ordered all the scouts to fall to work and construct a temporary shelter for the two creatures. mr. gilroy seemed too surprised to comment, and when hiram finally delivered the calf and pig into julie's custody, mr. gilroy turned to her and said, "do you _really_ mean to keep the beasts, here in camp?" "why, of course! why should we go to all this fuss for nothing?" "well, i can't see, yet, why you should?" when the calf and pig were temporarily tied to a tree, where they seemed as much at home as back in the barnyard, julie said, "by the way, gilly, what did you call the pets when they were yours?" "they have never been christened, because i waited for an opportune time. it is here now!" returned mr. gilroy, picking up one of the bottles of water that had done duty to make plaster casts that morning. he held it over the calf's head and poured half of its contents out while he said solemnly: "dear little deer, henceforth you shall be known as julia, in honor of the intrepid scout that captured you, single-handed. "likewise, this sweet little fawn, known by its tracks through the wilderness, shall be named ant-and-ett because of its peculiar habits,--busy as an ant and eats all that comes its way!" then the rest of the water was emptied over the pig's head. "_antoinette_ it shall be, now and forever," declared julie, while the other scouts laughed uproariously. but the two names stuck, and thereafter the calf was "julia" and the pig was generally called by the name of "anty." after the christening mr. gilroy beckoned for the captain to join him where the girls could not over-hear his conversation. "you don't suppose the girls are in earnest about keeping the pig and calf at camp, do you?" asked he, anxiously. "yes, certainly," laughed mrs. vernon. "you don't know girls of this age, or you'd understand that they enjoy all these silly pranks thoroughly, and really, they act as safety-valves." chapter ten the girl scouts entertain "now, gilly, you've got to help us build the sheds for julia and anty, or go home until its time for the party," exclaimed the leader, calling to the still-wondering man. "if we're to have any dinner ready for the grey foxes; i think hiram and gilly ought to do the building of the sheds, and let us get busy with the cooking," added the corporal. "yes, that's a better plan," admitted julie. "come on, now, gilly, don't shirk your duty!" so mr. gilroy and his man were set to do construction work, while the scouts ran to and fro, fetching and carrying, arranging exhibits, baking, cooking, and what-not, that dandelion troop need not take a "back seat" in comparison with the grey foxes. "verny," whispered julie, soon after the two men were sawing and nailing at the sheds, "it's as plain as the nose on my face, that gilly thinks those boys are far cleverer than we girls." "what makes you think so, julie?" asked joan, who was passing at the time. "never mind, now, jo, but we've just got to show him, as well as his boys, that girl scouts know a heap more than they talk about. that's why i'm anxious to make a 'ten-strike' with dinner!" "it is too bad we were tricked with false tracks," said mrs. vernon. "i don't believe those boys would have known any better, under the circumstances, but of course, they won't admit it." "forget it!" said julie, shortly. "and listen to me. take all the contents of our boxes out upon the cots, and call upon all the girls you need to help in the work. turn the packing cases upside down and cover them with some of our embroidered covers; then arrange to the best advantage, everything we can show for our past year in scoutdom. "try to group our exhibits according to their relationship with each other, but leave all the indian pots and dishes scattered about carelessly as if we were accustomed to using them daily. the birchbark baskets and articles can be hung about on tents or trees where they will show off best,--but don't let it look as if the stunt was done on purpose for this occasion--see?" joan smiled. "yes, i see! leave it to the girl scouts!" so, although there was plenty of activity before, now there was no end of rushing and laughing and planning between the scouts. the pots and dishes julie spoke of were left to mrs. vernon to place, and she accomplished the task of studying carefully the apparent carelessness of leaving the vessels about. these indian pots and dishes were the most interesting things the scouts had made. it was simple work, and took but little time and no cost to produce the results. and most effective they were. they took a lump of clay and worked out all the hard bits, and sticks or stones, then shaped it for the bottom of a bowl or pot. in its first step it looked like a flat saucer, then it was left an hour or two, according to the thickness of the clay, to dry well. after that the sides were built up on this saucerlike bottom. it was shaped the desired form, and patted into the thickness required, then smoothed out nicely, both inside and out, and again dried as before. now it was baked in a hot fire for several hours, so that when it was cool it was a fireproof bowl. the only trouble the girls had had with this interesting art was the carelessness of a few of them in cooling the dishes too quickly. they found the clay invariably cracked when the pots were too quickly cooled after taking them from the fire. but by slow degrees of cooling, which took about three hours, they came out perfect. the scouts had decorated their pots as they felt inclined, so that they presented a varied and pleasing array as they stood about camp, in places where the eye would see them to their best advantage. some were painted with wood-dyes, and others were etched in relief patterns. when the captain had finished her task, she silently drew the attention of the scouts to the groups, and they all stood and smiled proudly at their handiwork. "we didn't see anything like that at grey fox camp," bragged judith to joan. "no sir! nor did they have a cookstove like ours! alec may have made a roasting-fan such as we never heard of before, but we can show him a thing or two when he comes over!" exclaimed joan. at this moment julie was heard calling the orderly. "how about that chicken? some one's got to draw it so it can be cooked. it ought to go on the fire in another half hour." at this mr. gilroy called out, "you're not going to eat my chicken, are you?" "sure! that's why i had hiram wring its neck. i knew the poor thing wouldn't object to being cooked if once its breath was gone," laughed julie. "dear me! it's my turn to draw the fowl and i hate it!" complained ruth. "s-sh!" warned julie, waving a frying-pan at ruth, "it is for the cause of woman this time, so don't cry, ruthy!" "i'll help do it, ruth," betty now offered kindly. "i know how you dislike the work, but 'liza showed me how to do it so that it really isn't half bad." betty poured scalding water over the chicken, and the feathers came off easily. then she slit the throat and breast and removed the entrails without causing any repulsion in ruth. when it was ready, ruth admitted that she knew she could do the work the next time without a qualm. the cookstove the scouts were so proud of was a remarkable affair--even mr. gilroy admitted that. mrs. vernon had discovered a heap of fine flat stones, such as a surveyor uses for his "corners," and these were used. the largest stones were placed against a tree that would act as draught to the fire, and the mound was built up until it was a convenient height to use without bending uncomfortably low, as is necessary with campfires. through the center of this mound was a well, and on four sides of the rounded mound were windowlike openings backed with tin; in these niches various pots or pans could be kept hot while other viands were cooking on top of the stove. the top was made of a sheet of thin stove-iron which the captain had brought from home, and near the bottom of the mound was a tipping-stone upon which the fire was laid. when the fire was out, its ashes could be removed by tipping the flat stone over and letting the cinders fall to the bottom, where they could be raked away quite easily. this opening provided draught for the fire, and at the back, from the fire-stone, an opening had been left, and here to several feet above the top of the stove, a length of stove-pipe carried all smoke out and above the heads of the scouts. the girls had also built a fireless cooker in the ground just beside their stove, where fish, or any article needing steady heat, could be placed. this cooking-pit was constructed after the plan adopted by most scouts, and described fully in the manual. while ruth and betty were busy preparing the chicken, mrs. vernon built a good fire in the stove, and had several of the girls heat the stones in the fireless cooker, to be ready for use. mr. gilroy had donated several fine lake trout that day, so these were cleaned and washed and placed in the cooker-pit, where they would need no watching but be done to a turn when wanted. the chicken was cut up for a fricasee, and diced onions and potatoes were prepared to add to the boiling liquid about an hour before serving. this would provide not only soup for the first course, but chicken with dumplings for a third course. they proposed having the fish with butter sauce for the second course. just as julie added the diced potatoes, hester exclaimed, "oh, jule! what did you do that for? those duck-potatoes were meant to make the boys' eyes bulge!" "what duck-potatoes? i never touched them!" declared julie, defensively. "didn't you cut them up and use them just now?" "i should say not! after all the work we had in finding and digging them! why, they ought to be preserved--not eaten," laughed the leader. "thank goodness!" sighed hester, in such evident relief that every one laughed sympathetically. "who's doing the indian cucumbers?" called the corporal. "i am!" answered judith. "they're all peeled and sliced ready to serve. and amy gathered the dandelion greens to go with them." "fine! verny is making a mayonnaise to use with the salad. my! won't those boys have the wind taken out of their sails when they see the duck potatoes and indian cucumbers!" giggled joan. mr. gilroy had not missed much of all this whispering and joyous confusion, and he chuckled to himself as he and hiram finished nailing the last boards on the sheds and turned julia into her new home. the small pigsty was soon completed, and then a fence was built about it, but it was not calculated to keep a full-grown pig in bounds; it was strong enough for antoinette, however, at that time. before the pig-pen was quite finished, the scouts heard the whistles and calls from the grey fox boys, as they hiked over the crest trail. so they fluttered about anxiously to see that not an item on the programme was forgotten. hiram was on his way to the bungalow, and mr. gilroy had hurried down to the lake to wash up and make his dinner toilet, when the boys came gaily into camp. after greeting their hostesses, the grey fox scouts looked around. "well, guess you girls are planning to spread yourselves for dinner, eh?" asked alec, jocularly. "oh, nothing more than usual; we live high every day," returned julie, tossing her head. nothing more was said about dinner just then, but a loud call from "julia" drew all attention to her shed. the boys stared in surprise at the two buildings they had never noticed before. "isn't that a pig--in that pen?" asked ned, amazedly. "no, it's antoinette--our latest girl scout!" giggled amy. the boys laughed, for the name struck them as awfully funny for a pig. then they walked from anty's pen to the shed, which had a door swung on leather hinges, but it was closed. "and what sort of scout do you lock up in here?" asked bob, condescendingly. "bob veal!" retorted julie, causing every one to roar at the questioner. bob flushed, but walked over to the stove where the captain stood stirring the dumplings in the chicken soup. "that's a fine stove, captain," ventured he. "yes, it is something like the one we built last year in camp. that was so convenient we decided to have another this summer. wouldn't you boys like to examine it closely?" thereupon the grey foxes did examine it closely, much to their advantage on useful ideas of kitchen equipment. then they saw the fireless cooker that was in use for the time being; so they passed on to inspect the various birchbark hanging-baskets filled with flowers; the rustic fern-boxes, and all the useful articles the scouts had manufactured of birchbark and acorns. "it takes a girl to do fancywork, all right. now, we boys are not gifted that way, you see, but we can make other things, instead," remarked alec, bestowing a male's compliments on feminine accomplishments. "just what can you make, or have done, that we girls are not able to do?" demanded julie. "oh, i wasn't personal in any way,--i just meant that it is quite natural for women to do the light things while men have to look after the business of life!" "well, the quicker you open your eyes to facts, and see that we women of the present age are fast outstripping the men in _every_ calling, the better it will be for your own good!" said julie. "just glance around, boys, and tell us if you can make a better showing for _your_ four years," added joan, waving her hand at the various exhibits. it happened that the girls had each been given a cue by julie, so that when the grey fox boys came into camp, judith was found sweeping carefully with a camp-made broom, amy and betty were placing a tabletop upon its legs and then starting to set the table, and the other scouts were busy with other unusual things. now dick walked over to judith. "how did you know you could make a broom like this?" said he. "why, this is an old one made the first day we came to camp. you ought to see our new ones. they are fine!" dick examined the broom, and called alec over. "they can make brooms, all right, alec!" said he, showing the article in question. it was made of long hickory shavings, well bound about a good handle, and promised to outlast any dozen store brooms. "but why sweep this grass,--that's foolish," said alec. "no, because this is where we will sit about the table. we always sweep away the crumbs or trash that fall during mealtime, so the ants and other insects won't annoy us. this morning, however, we were in such a hurry to get out with gilly, that we forgot the usual routine work in camp," explained judith. the two boys exchanged glances, but judith saw them. alec then said, smilingly, "oh, yes! how did that track-hunt come off? i suppose you scouts knew every animal, eh?" judith now realized that mr. gilroy had had the whole joke planned out with the grey fox boys, and that the boys were only waiting to have a good old laugh on the girls. so she deliberately told a lie,--fervently praying that it be forgiven for the "cause of women." she glanced roguishly up at alec, and winked one eye. "wasn't it too funny for anything,--the way we led gilly about by the nose?" the boys stared in surprise for a moment, then dick said, "what do you mean? didn't you scouts go out at dawn with gilly to study tracks?" "sure! but didn't you boys know about the joke we made up on him about those tracks? that's why he is so late to dinner." "tell us about it?" eagerly begged both boys. "oh! i can't. i thought you knew something about it or you wouldn't have grinned the way you did. i'm so sorry i let the cat out of the bag, for likely, our leader wants to tell you the story while we all are at dinner," cried judith, the picture of regret. "oh, come on and tell! now that you've said so much!" coaxed dick. "well, you boys walk around and look over our work and i'll run and ask julie if i may tell you the story," whispered judith, giggling, and running over to the leader's side. when julie heard the truth from judith, she was furious, but she soon saw that she must thrust anger behind her, and plan some clever way to reverse the joke and make it fall upon the originator. in fact, at that moment, the scouts wished all kinds of dreadful things upon their benefactor, mr. gilroy. he, however, unaware of their ire, was walking up the trail from the lake to the camp-site. and the boys, who were told to amuse themselves for a time, were certainly finding more good ideas put into useful form at that camp than they ever dreamed of. the large square table was constructed of the boards removed from a piano-case which gilly had at the barn. these were all nailed to a frame and furnished a strong, heavy top that could be placed, at will, on the four sturdy posts that were driven into the ground. these table-legs were only fifteen inches above the ground, so one could sit on the grass and conveniently use the top. the four boys met at a large rustic shelf-cupboard, constructed of short-length boards taken from a cereal box, and placed so as to make four shelves. two sides were made of boards that came from one of the packing-cases from the city. this cupboard stood against a great pine tree that furnished the backing, and on the shelves were the array of lanterns and candlesticks made and used in camp. "gee! they've got the bottle-neck holder, the tin-can lantern, and all the rest. it seems they know the scout stunts, all right," whispered ned. "yes, and look at these candles! do you suppose they made them in camp? they look like hand-dipped products," added alec, examining the tallow candles. "we won't let on that we're curious, but we'll find out from gilly just how they made these candles," suggested bob. from the shelves that held candles and some clay ornaments the boys wandered over to the sun-dial. "it's better than the one we made," admitted ned. "humph! so it is," said alec, reluctantly, but willing to be just. "whoever did that burnt-wood etching around the edge sure made a fine job of it. and the numerals are very good," added bob. "gilly said ruth is the artist of the troop," said dick. but the grey foxes never found out that the indian clock had been made during the previous winter when there was ample time to spend over such a work. the large wooden slab was sent to camp with many other highly decorative things made the same winter. mr. gilroy now joined the boys and offered to act as official guide in viewing everything. so interested were the boys in all they saw that they temporarily forgot about the joke of the tracking. "come and see the indian willow beds the scouts made the first day in camp," said mr. gilroy, boastfully, now that he wanted to impress the boys. so the beds, the weaving looms, the birdhouses here and there, and other things were duly seen and admired. but the exhibit that interested the boys as much as anything that day was the neat and beautiful work done with wild flowers and a deal of patience. there were blue-prints of delicate flowers, as well as shadow-work and pressed and mounted flower-groups. alec recognized the three-leaved arrow-head, and showed it to the other boys who had never seen it before. this particular specimen was white and waxen in contrast to the indigo-hued paper. the spiderwort was a rich blue with its two large petals rounded, while the third one was tiny and colorless. there was also a purple variety known as "job's tears." the wild leek and garlic flowers made dainty blue-prints, scarcely recognizable as coming from such humble family trees as the despised onion. wild spikenard, with its crown of tiny white flowers, also reproduced beautifully in the blue-print. the seal of solomon and purple twisted stalk made scraggy pictures easy to identify. betty had pressed a white trillium that made an imposing picture, retaining all its beauty and lines. the boys had the painted trillium in their collection but had never seen the white one. in the flower collection made by the other scouts were many orchids,--fringed-purple, ragged-fringed, yellow-fringed, and others. also the indian pink, the rattlesnake plantain, the pink snake-mouth, monkshood, bloodroot, pitcher plant, and numerous others that formed a wonderful exhibit which it would take a long time to do justice to. while the grey foxes were poring over the flower books, mrs. vernon came up beside them. "when you boys are through here, we will sit down to dinner, as everything is ready to serve." "oh, we'll look at the rest of these another time," said bob, quickly. so the captain led them over to the table, where the appearance of the festive board caused them to smack their lips. mr. gilroy and the grey fox boys were seated according to julie's directions, then the girls all went over to the cookstove. at each place on the table sat a flat clay-made plate that was to do service for many needs. beside the plate were the birchbark cup to drink water from, a birchbark napkin ring that held a paper napkin, and the usual knife, fork and spoon. in the center of the table stood a lovely fern centerpiece, the holder woven of split willows, and the fern dug up in the woods and transplanted into a tin pail that did not show inside the basket. the fernery was flanked by two other handwoven baskets of sweet-grass. one held the scout-biscuits just baked, while the other was piled high with light little puff-cakes. on either side of the centerpiece stood two large flat clay platters,--one held the indian cucumber salad, and the other a dandelion salad. "aren't the girls going to sit down, too?" called alec. "yes, but each girl has to serve a boy's soup as well as her own. then we will sit down," answered julie. meantime joan was whispering anxiously, as each girl held out the clay bowls for soup, "now remember! leave the tracking tale to julie, and agree with her everytime! don't you dare be caught napping this time!" and as each scout left the stove with her two bowls of soup, she whispered. "no, leave it to me! we'll get the best of gilly for this joke." the chicken soup was highly praised, and truly it was a good broth and deserved all praise. then came the fish,--all done to a turn and served piping hot with butter sauce. the indian cucumber went well with the lake trout, and here the boys had another surprise. "indian cucumbers! we never knew they grew around here," ventured alec, but delighting in the salad just the same. "oh, didn't you? well, you see, it takes a girl's fancy touches to secure these sort of things. you boys, of course, have to give your time to doing big things," was julie's sarcastic reply. the third course consisted of the chicken and dumplings, stewed bracken, and a side dish of vegetable that looked for all the world like small potatoes. the boys studied these curiously. "it's quite digestible," laughed mrs. vernon. "but be sure to appreciate them,--they are the only wapitos we've ever found!" declared joan, proudly. "wapitos! you don't mean it!" exclaimed alec, eagerly. "why, where did you find them?" asked the other boys. "one morning when we were out tracking," said julie, with a careless manner. then quickly added, "oh, captain, where are the brussels sprouts? we almost forgot that vegetable." the orderly jumped up and ran to the stove where, in one of the niches, stood the bowl of charlock hearts, a wild green that tastes exactly like tender sprouts. these are easy to cultivate in a garden, too, and are not as expensive as brussels sprouts. "my, what a spread this is!" sighed bob, ecstatically. every one laughed, for bob and anne were the gourmands of the two troops, and were never ashamed to admit when they enjoyed a thing. "yes, it's some dinner, all right. made a lot of work, didn't it?" added alec. "oh, not so much as usual," returned julie. "we really had planned a more elaborate affair, but the joke we played on gilly took longer than we allowed for it, and so we had to scramble the dinner." julie smiled benignly upon the guests, but they exchanged looks with mr. gilroy at the mention of a joke. so she continued: "because of that joke, you have ordinary chicken for a meat course, whereas i had hoped to give you a real dainty, stewed wild rabbit. but our snares were left unbaited while we planned to come in first on gilly and his proposed prank. i don't suppose you know a thing about it, do you?" the girls gasped at their leader's mention of a rabbit snare,--this was the first they knew of such a thing! and since bunty grey had taken up his residence nearby their camp, after his recovery from the old trap down on river bend, not one scout girl could be made to taste rabbit. the boys were keen to hear about the joke on their friend gilroy, but _he_ wanted to know about rabbits. so he asked: "where did you set any snares? this is news to me!" "is it? why we caught a rabbit in a snare set down by river bend, but we haven't stewed it yet," returned julie, smiling angelically at mr. gilroy. "never mind snares, but tell us about the tracking," now urged alec. "there isn't much to tell--excepting that we let him indulge himself in the belief that he was fooling us," began julie. "while we were at your camp, to invite you here to-day, gilly had all his hands turn the barnyard beasts out and led them a dance about our campgrounds, believing we would fall for his little game. "he took so much pains and trouble over the joke, that we hadn't the heart to undeceive him, so we played the game through. "but it was hard work to keep straight faces, wasn't it, girls?" julie appealed to her companions. "yes, indeed! and when julie left us to bring back the proof of his joking, that was best of all," added joan. "yes, you see i got him to say that hunters who found a wild animal could claim it, if it was in season, so i went to the barn where i _knew_ our 'wild animals' would be, and not only found them, but caught them, also. being in season, we claimed them. thus we turned gilly's joke on himself, as he sure was amazed to find that we took him at his word, and kept the 'ferocious' beasts!" julie laughed so heartily that every one joined in, never doubting but that the merriment was natural and genuine. "so that is how we became owners of the calf, the pig, and the nice spring chicken you just finished," added julie. mr. gilroy now cleared his throat to say something in self-defence, but every one laughed loudly again, the boys believing julie's tale, and the girls hoping to keep up the deception. "poor dear old gilly! we renamed him this morning. he is to be foxy grandpa hereafter, you know; not alone because he told the grey foxes what he was going to do, but because he planned such a beautiful snare and ran into it himself," said joan. "as if you boys would believe we were 'greenies' in camplife! why, just look around and see our work! is there anything here to prove we are such ignoramuses as to believe a calf-track could possibly be a deer-print?" asked julie, scornfully. "you're right, you girls sure can do scout things," said alec, admiringly. "this dinner alone would prove it!" exclaimed bob. "any one who can find indian cucumbers and wapitos, when we boys have hunted and hunted, and never succeeded, is a first-class scout, and no mistake about it!" declared dick, enthusiastically. so mr. gilroy decided not to speak in self-defence any more. the dinner wound up with wild-current tarts, puff-cakes, and coffee made from roots and roasted acorns, pulverized. "lady scouts, let me toast you for this wonderful success, not only in culinary art, but also in founding a curious menagerie," said mr. gilroy, standing and holding up his coffee before drinking it. "before we adjourn from this feast, let me ask one question," said alec, as they prepared to get up from the table. "what was it in that salad dressing that gave such a palatable flavor? i never tasted anything like it before." the scouts smiled with pleasure, and mrs. vernon said, "that taste was given by adding a few leaves of burnet to the salad. it was not the dressing; but few people know what a wonderful flavor burnet gives to salad. it would be used more often did chefs know this simple little wildwood fact." while the girls were clearing away the dishes, mrs. vernon spoke very seriously to julie about the tale she told. "you did not tell an absolute untruth, yet you did not voice the truth, because we all _were_ taken in by those tracks!" "but, verny! surely you wouldn't have these mere males _think_ we were such gullible scouts, would you? it would be a disgrace for the whole organization!" cried julie. "i never advocate self-righteousness in covering up an error of judgment or knowledge. the scout committee on ideals would not approve of the tale you told to vindicate the 'cause of women,' as you claim." "i suppose you are right in your viewpoint, verny, but it wasn't fair of gilly to play that prank on us, and tell those boys beforehand, too," pouted julie. "well, let it pass this time, verny, and we'll promise never to be guilty of misappropriating the truth again," said joan. "and don't give us away to the grey foxes!" added judith. the captain shook her head in disapproval, but she said nothing more, so the girls ran off to whisper to mr. gilroy that he was the cause of a dreadful quarrel! chapter eleven a canoe trip the scouts were so busy with canoeing, swimming, and hiking, during the week following the dinner-party that they saw very little of mr. gilroy, although they knew whenever he called at the camp, because he generally brought feed for the calf and pig. these two unusual pets were becoming quite sociable, and would follow the girls around the clearing when meals were being prepared. jake always went wherever the scouts went, and he particularly enjoyed the long walks. but he ignored the calf and pig completely when in camp. about a week after the grey fox boys had visited dandelion camp, mr. gilroy came down early in the morning. "i have to get up at dawn if i want a word with you scouts, these times," laughed he, as he caught them eating breakfast. "sit down and have some," julie invited, making room for him beside her. "can't--haven't time. i've got an important engagement with the grey fox boys, but you were first on my calling list." the girls all halted further progress on the breakfast and listened intently. "what have you plotted, now?" asked julie. mr. gilroy laughed as he remembered the tracking joke. "i'm almost afraid to tell you." but after much coaxing he spoke. "well, then, i am going on a little fishing trip to racquette lake, so i wondered if you scouts wouldn't like to canoe with the party and spend a few days that way?" the girls gave such a chorus of approval that mr. gilroy pretended to stop both ears. "oh, do tell them all about it, gilly, or we'll be deaf!" begged mrs. vernon, laughing at the commotion. so mr. gilroy described the itinerary to the great delight of his hearers. "but remember, girls, no extra baggage is allowed. you wear your uniforms, take bathing suits, and sandals, a wide soft hat that will stick to your head, as few toilet requisites as possible; individual eating outfit, blanket and sleeping-bag, fishing tackle, and your powder puffs." the last item caused a jeer, for the girls hadn't thought of beautifiers, other than those nature presented, since they joined the scout organization. nor did they need any,--they were all fine and rosy, with perfect complexions and good health. "my indian, yhon, is going in a canoe with the cooking outfit and other necessities for so large a party. he is a splendid guide, you know, and knows the country like a book." "what can we do about our pets?" betty asked, concernedly. "oh, jake will go with us, of course, and julia and anty will have to depend on gilly's man for meals. they will learn to appreciate us if we are absent a few days," replied julie, audaciously. "when did you plan to start?" now asked the captain. "day after to-morrow, as early in the morning as we can. that gives you all day to-morrow to get ready and come up to the bungalow for supper at night. yhon will be ready with the canoes at dawn in the morning, and we start from our boathouse. the canoe-wagon is coming here to-day to carry your three canoes over to first lake so as to be in good shape for the trip. yhon will overhaul them all, and look after any caulking or repairs." "dear me, i can't wait for the time to come!" exclaimed several of the scouts. "and if you become seasick on the voyage, you'll be just as anxious to get back," laughed mr. gilroy, causing the girls to giggle in chorus at his ridiculous speech. so on the morning mentioned, a merry crowd of girls and boys followed the captain and mr. gilroy to the boathouse on the lake. yhon was waiting with everything ready, but it was still dim and misty over the water, as the daylight was not yet strong. jake instantly jumped into yhon's canoe as if he knew it paid to be near the larder. mr. gilroy arranged the party so that one lightweight member was in each canoe with one of the heavier girls, and one of the boys. he took charge of another canoe with two girls in it, while the captain managed still another one with two in it. thus they started in a line, yhon leading. as they moved noiselessly out from the shadow of the overhanging rocks and foliage, the dew sparkled like silver drops on all the leaves; every now and then a hungry fish would leap up to bite the paddles, and then whisk its tail angrily as it flashed away again. the newly awakened sun had not yet risen high enough to cast its rays upon the lake, and the mountain that threw somber shadows over the face of the lake, still hid the shining of the orb of day. the expectancy and hush that always precedes the bursting forth of shining light, enthralled all the wild creatures in the woods. yhon had been silently guiding his flock over the water, closely hugging the shore all the way, when the high treble call of a young fawn echoed far over the lake. it was so unexpected that the scouts were startled, but the indian called over his shoulder, "li'l deer lose mammy--call her back!" then, not twenty yards further on, yhon stopped paddling, and pointed with a long finger towards the shore. there stood the fawn on a rock near the water's edge, its head held high as it gazed with consternation at so many queer things floating on the lake. mrs. vernon took a splendid picture of the deer, before a crashing of branches and the rattle of pebbles announced that the doe was leaping to the rescue of her little one. but she could not be seen, as she was wise in woodlore and remained safely screened from men. possibly she knew that a human carried a death-dealing weapon when he sought her in the forests. the canoes passed through first lake, then through second lake, and at last through third lake--all of which were really one large continuous sheet of water. where third lake creek emptied into the large body of water, yhon led the canoes close to shore. he knew that the best lake trout were to be caught where the creek emptied, and here he proposed to fish for the dinner supply. "but we don't want dinner, yet, yhon," called mrs. vernon. "we eat on cedar islan' but him got no fish dere. get my fish here," explained yhon, as he jumped ashore. all were glad of an opportunity to stretch their legs, and then they tried their luck at fishing, also. after a time this became monotonous for the active young ones, and they started up the creek to adventure. the third lake creek came down over moss-covered rocks, which were held in place by gnarled roots of giant trees. these ancient foresters stood looking benignly down upon the placid waters of the lake, as if watching the play of a little child. where the creek swirled out to join third lake, the purplish circles made there gradually lost their foaming haste and gently merged into the wavelets of clear cold water. as the scouts climbed up the rugged bank of the creek, the towering trees were not the only things that watched silently. although the happy young mortals were deaf and blind to the many alert curious eyes that followed their movements, still those eyes were there, wondering at this daring trespass over their domains. some of these wildwood inhabitants were furtively anxious, some hostile, but all were curious to follow the movements of these queer creatures. finally the scouts could not penetrate further, and they retraced their steps. yhon had caught enough fish for the day's needs, and was ready to continue the trip. from third lake creek he paddled across to the opposite shore and thence through fourth lake. they stopped at skensowane to purchase crackers, candy, and other sweets, while yhon took on a supply of staples. cedar island was at the extreme upper end of fourth lake, and long before the scouts saw the green knob standing plainly up from the water, they were hungry enough to eat the grass on the island. so every one assisted with the dinner to facilitate the eating of it. yhon was one of the best guides in the mountains, and his experience in cooking was unsurpassed; hence the scouts enjoyed an exceptional dinner. when all were ready to continue the trip, yhon led across from cedar island to inlet, where there was a "carry" of a mile to reach sixth lake. "phew! carry the canoes a mile in the hot sun!" cried bob. "that's part of the fun in canoeing," remarked mr. gilroy, as they disembarked and prepared to carry. "i'm glad of the change," said judith. "my knees are all out of joint from sitting with them doubled under me." thereupon every one declared it a relief to walk and get the kinks out of the leg-muscles. but after a mile in the heat, with canoe and outfit to carry, every one was just as glad to get back and sit down in the canoes. the trip through sixth and seventh lakes was wonderful. the grandeur of the mountains and the marvelous greens of their verdure reflected in the narrow lakes, made the water seem a dark emerald green as clear and transparent as a perfect jewel. occasionally, faint shadows of birds flying overhead, or deer leaping on the rocks on the banks were reflected in the water as the canoeists silently paddled along, and such entrancing pictures seen in the placid lake thrilled the scouts with delight. here and there, where a stream rushed down into the lake, the scouts could look up through the wide rifts cleft between the forest-trees, and the eye could follow up where falls tumbled over boulders; or to the higher view, where the blue sky showed a tiny streak between the pines. once a flight of wild ducks suddenly rose from the lake, quacking noisily. the boys called to yhon to shoot, but he held up a warning hand to show that this was no season for duck-hunting. in nearing the upper end of seventh lake where the inlet empties into it, yhon called out, "nudder carry--mile to eight lake." but before they reached land, the captain called for a halt. she wanted to take a snapshot of the picture made by the inlet, seemingly in such a hurry to reach the lake, yet making no noise nor showing any froth in its haste. the lake seemed to draw its shores close together to hug the inlet, just as a mother draws her babe to her bosom in love. in small coves on either side of the inlet were patches of green marsh grass and cattails, the home of the wild ducks which rose to escape the coming of the canoeists. as the faint odorous whiff of marshgrass reached the nostrils of the scouts, they wanted to paddle in and cut cattails, but yhon said there was no time then. "plenty time on home trip." through eighth lake to brown's inlet carry was a distance of about two miles, and when they reached shore on brown's inlet, yhon called out, "nudder carry--mile-half dis time to brown tract inlet." the command to carry began to sound tiresome to the scouts, and they were glad to hear mr. gilroy say that this carry would be the last one, as brown's tract inlet brought them right to racquette lake where they planned to camp for the night. it was quite late when they reached the lower end of racquette lake, because the progress had been slow and safe. mr. gilroy had not telephoned for accommodations at any hotel, as they planned to camp at night. but the wind that came with the setting of the sun also threatened a storm during the night, and mr. gilroy thought it best to find a place near a large hotel, in case they had to seek shelter. so they paddled to find a grove quite near one of the larger hotels. the scouts were eager to land and get their camp ready before darkness handicapped them, so when within a few yards of land, hester turned to pull out her blankets. the sudden motion overturned the canoe, and all three occupants went headlong into the water. the frightened screams of the three scouts caused consternation in the others, and many turned around quickly to see what had happened behind them. thus, two more canoe-loads were unexpectedly emptied into the lake. they were soon out on shore, but drenched and shivering from the cold water. "now, isn't that the worst thing that could happen to us, at night!" sighed mrs. vernon. "we'll have to stop at a hotel, now, and let the scouts get in bed while their clothing dries," said mr. gilroy. so the wet ones were advised to dance about to keep warm, while alec and mr. gilroy hurried over to the hotel to engage rooms. but they soon came back with surprised looks. "not a corner to be had, and the manager called up other large places along the shore only to get the same answer--no room. he said there was a family boarding-house some distance along, where we might get in. the woman, a mrs. dickens, was a nice landlady and might tuck us in somewhere. shall we try it?" said mr. gilroy. "it is so dark now, and we haven't started supper or found a spot to camp, so i think we had best try mrs. dickens," replied the captain. in chilly silence the entire party got back into its canoes and skirted the shore until mr. gilroy called out to yhon, "this must be the spot where i was told to land. the house is back from the lake, a bit." the canoeists had no difficulty in locating the boarding-house, but they were too late for a hot dinner, although the cold supper served was very good, especially to hungry young people. "i haven't any rooms left in the main house," explained mrs. dickens, "but i can give you several rooms in the annex. that used to be the help's cottage, but i had it done over to rent this season." "'any port in a storm,' madam, and our 'storm' consists of several soaking suits that have to be dried," returned mr. gilroy. "the cottage has a small kitchen where you can quickly light a fire in the stove and dry everything. i think you will be very comfortable there," said mrs. dickens. so arrangements were made for the use of the cottage for that night. as they planned to start early in the morning again, the entire party retired soon after supper. the wet clothing had been hung on lines about the kitchen, where a servant had built a roaring fire. although they had to "double up" in bed, or sleep on the floor, they were too healthily sleepy to mind such little things, and before ten o'clock every one was asleep. chapter twelve first aid mrs. vernon was a very light sleeper, consequently she was aroused a short time after midnight by cries and calls for help. she sprang from the bed and ran to a side window that opened towards the kitchen side of the boarding-house. all she could see was a dull glare that filled the kitchen windows. but she understood. instantly, she ran to mr. gilroy's room and knocked loudly while she cried, "get up--everybody--the boarding-house, next door, is on fire!" in a moment mr. gilroy jumped up and shouted, "all right--we'll be out in a jiffy!" then mrs. vernon ran back to pull the girls out of bed and have them dress as speedily as possible. the clothing in the kitchen was dry, and soon the girls were dressing and, at the same time, talking excitedly of the fire. "i'm sorry mrs. dickens has had this misfortune, but as long as it happens while we are here, we must try to earn a medal," said mrs. vernon, as she breathlessly pulled a middy-blouse over her head. "what can girls do?" asked amy, eagerly. "i don't know yet, but every little thing helps in a time like this. just obey orders from mr. gilroy or me, and follow the example julie is sure to give you," said mrs. vernon, glancing at the scout she mentioned, because julie might run unnecessary risks for herself, but if she thought she was responsible for the other girls her zeal would be tempered wisely. "what do they give scouts a medal for, verny?" now asked judith, as she twisted her long hair up in a tight coil on her head. "if occasion arises for a scout to display great heroism, or if she faces extreme danger in trying to save a life, she can have the bronze medal--the highest award given. if she does a brave deed with considerable danger to herself, she wins a silver cross. but no scout is to run needless risk just to win a medal of any kind." while the captain spoke, the scouts finished their hurried dressing and now followed her out to the lawn in front of the large house. here the scene was one of great confusion and panic. men were hastily moving articles of furniture and boarders' personal effects out of the three-storied building. smoke poured from all the rear windows, and the roof seemed enveloped in heavy smoke-clouds. "isn't there any volunteer fire department?" called julie, to every one in general and no one in particular. "where is it?" asked alec of a man standing next to him. "we got a ring and hammer up yonder, and a hand-engine, but i hain't hear'n no one strike the signal," said he. "come along, show me where it is," ordered alec, catching hold of the man's sleeve and pulling him away from the staring crowd. once the man had broken away from the mesmeric influence of the fire-watchers, he ran quickly with alec to the knoll where a metal hoop and hammer were kept for the purpose of alarm in case of fire. almost before the two reached the spot, alec caught the hammer and was striking the metal at regular intervals. the man then offered to remain and send the volunteer firemen to the place where they were needed, so alec ran back to help as best he could. meantime, the girl scouts realized there was much to do to help others, and the captain ordered every one to use the utmost presence of mind in doing anything they were called upon to do. julie hastily whispered to joan, "i'm going to run to the cottage and get that coil of rope we brought from the canoe last night, we may need it." "i'll run with you, julie, for we must tie wet towels over our mouths, if we have to go inside there," added joan. both girls raced to their room, and when they came out they were provided with the rope, and the dripping towels were tied across their nostrils and mouths. as they stood momentarily on the little porch of the cottage to see where they might render the best service, the uproar from the upper stories in the rear was awful. "there may be some people trapped in their rooms up there!" exclaimed julie to her companion. "we can climb up this rose-trellis quite easily, jule, and get in at the windows of the second story where the piazza roof gives us a foothold," hastily returned joan. in another moment both girls were quickly climbing up the strong trellis, and as soon as they reached the tin roof they ran to the window. here they found a young mother sitting on the floor, rocking a baby back and forth while she cried wildly with hysteria. the child was held so tightly that it, too, was screaming. while julie uncoiled the rope, joan ran to the washstand and dipped a towel in the pitcher. but julie called to her, "bring the jug of water here, we've got to break this hysteric spell!" joan carried the towel in one hand and the pitcher in the other, so julie caught the jug from her, and dashed the water in the woman's face. the sudden choking and shock broke the spell. then the towel was hastily pinned over the lower part of her face and she was hurried to the door. but the smoke and heat caused the girls to slam the door to again and run to the window. "hey--down there!" yelled julie, to a group of men on the flower-bed. "hold out a blanket while we drop the baby down." "no--no!" screamed the mother, trying to get away from the grasp of strong young joan. "you'll kill it!" "give me the child, i'll carry it down the trellis," said julie, but the mother would not relax her grip on her baby. "where's that rope, jo?" now asked julie. "over by the window we went in at," cried joan, having all she could do to restrain the woman from throwing herself and babe down from the roof. so in another moment, julie had the rope tied to a window shutter, and with the other end in hand was over by the woman. "here--stand still, will you, while we fix this and let you down to the ground!" commanded she, and the woman instantly obeyed. then both girls lowered the two slowly over the edge of the roof, down to where willing hands were raised to catch them. there was a wild acclaim as mother and child were saved, but the two scouts were not aware of it, as they were back inside the room again, taking their precious rope with them. before they could determine what to do next, a queer form burst into the room. "where's the rope you've been using, girls?" demanded the voice of alec. but he was completely covered by his rubber sleeping-bag, in which he had slit holes for his feet and arms. had it been any other time than such a moment, both girls must have doubled over in merriment at his appearance. "here it is, alec. where did you come from?" cried both scouts in one voice. "upstairs. i got up on the roof by climbing the water-spout, and in a dormer-room up there i found an old crippled woman, crying for help, but with no one to hear her until i climbed in from the scuttle-hole. a little old-fashioned stairway runs from the third floor down into the closet in this room. but i can't get her down those narrow stairs, and the other stairway and halls are a mass of fire. i've got to lower her from the roof, but i need help." "we'll help!" eagerly offered both the girls. so, with the coil of rope, they followed alec through the smoke-filled room into the large dark closet, and thus, up the scuttle-hole stairs that had been abandoned for many years,--perhaps forgotten entirely, until this need. in the front end of the third story there was not much smoke as yet, so the three could see their way plainly. and in a small gable-room having a small window high from the floor moaned an old woman of more than seventy years. the moment she saw alec return with two girls to help, she stopped wailing and tried to be courageous. "now we may hurt you some when you are being moved, but you must bear it, gran'ma," said alec, gently. the old lady smiled reassuringly. "children, anything is better than being roasted up in this little room. don't worry over hurting me but do whatever is necessary," quavered the sweet old voice. "now, girls, i'm going to shinny up the scuttle-hole in the roof and carry the rope with me. i'll tie it securely to the chimney on the roof and let down the other end. fasten this about grandma's waist and we'll try to lift her out that way. you two must help by holding her as much as possible, and by boosting from below." while alec climbed up the wall-ladder and got out to the roof, julie and joan made a roll of blankets and placed it about the old lady's form under the arms. then they looped the rope over this and secured it also under her arms. "all ready, alec!" called julie, holding her charge by one arm while joan held her by the other. as alec hauled, hand over hand on the rope, the two scouts beneath lifted and then boosted the old lady until she was safely through the opening in the roof. then alec leaned over and called to them: "if you can manage to run down and get through that room again, escape by way of the piazza-roof and send the firemen up from the outside with their ladders. i'll wait on the front roof with grandma." so julie and joan rushed down the little attic-stairs, back through the smoke-filled room which was now dreadfully hot from the fire, and out of the other room window to the piazza roof. once on the ground, a curious mob tried to surround them to ask all sorts of foolish questions, but julie was equal to two mobs. with muscular arms and fists striking right and left, she quickly forced a passage and made her way to the spot where the fire-chief was ordering the men about. "mr. chief, run a ladder up to the roof where you see that scout standing. he's got an old crippled woman to save. maybe the rope will reach and maybe it won't, so use your own judgment," called julie, pointing up to where alec could be dimly seen through the smoke. "hoist a ladder, boys! see that scout up on the roof with mrs. dickens' mother?" shouted the chief, anxiously watching the roof. while every one stood and in breathless suspense watched the firemen run up a long ladder and assist alec in saving the poor helpless woman, mrs. dickens came distractedly from the rear of the house and ran about seeking for her mother. when she learned that it was her mother they were trying to save, she fainted with fright. but the old lady was safely brought to the ground, and a great fuss was made over alec. then mrs. dickens was revived, and when she found her aged mother beside her on the grass, she almost fainted again from joy and gratitude. the house was doomed even before the firemen reached the scene, for it was constructed, as so many summer boarding-houses are at seashore and mountain resorts, of thin novelty-siding outside and oil-stained ceiling boards inside; these act like kindling wood once they are ignited. the crowd stood, now, and watched the flames lick up everything in sight, but every one was thankful that no lives were lost. the scouts, both girls and boys, had worked so faithfully that all the silver and linen were saved, and the men had removed much of the best furniture in the ground-floor rooms. the sun, that morning, rose on a scene of confusion and pathos. guests who had been able to save most of their effects were assisting less fortunate ones to dress in all kinds of apparel. neighbors from nearby cottages were caring for the homeless boarders, until order could be brought out of the chaotic condition. but the cottages were few, and the guests many, so some one must suggest a plan to meet the immediate needs. it was mr. gilroy who thought of a way. "we all sympathize with mrs. dickens in her distress, but it might have been worse, friends,--we all realize that,--and so we feel grateful that no lives were lost. but here it is breakfast-time, and there are many hungry mouths to fill, and i would suggest that you accept a scout breakfast with us as soon as it is ready." every one responded to such a hearty invitation, and mr. gilroy added, "then we'll show you how to prepare a good meal with no stove or kitchen, and with but few pots or pans." the boys were sent out on the lake to get the fish; the girls were told to knead the dough for scout-twists, and place them at the fire mr. gilroy was building. to interest the weary boarders, mr. gilroy had started his campfire with rubbing-sticks and had arranged the bread-sticks upon which the dough was twined, to the best advantage for all to watch while the twists baked. most of the dishes had been saved from the fire, and these were now used for breakfast. several large tablecloths had been spread out upon the smooth grass, and plates set around on the squares of linen. the fish had been cleaned by yhon when caught, and now the boys returned with a nice mess--enough for every one that morning. mrs. dickens kept all her extra stock of food in the little loft of the cottage, and as this annex was spared any damage by the fire, there was a supply of cereals, flour, bacon, and other necessities for meals. with the thrift of a good housekeeper, mrs. dickens had laid in a stock of purchases when the army supply had been sold off at auction in the city. so mrs. vernon found gallon cans of stewed prunes and other food-products on hand. in spite of all trouble and perplexities that morning, breakfast was a cheerful meal. prunes for fruit; hominy and other prepared cereals for a second course; then fresh fish, fried in corn-meal jackets and browned in bacon-fat, furnished a delicious third course with the hot scout-bread. and all this was topped off with fragrant coffee. naturally, the conversation was about one thing--the fire and the courage shown by the three scouts. the equally helpful work done by mrs. vernon and the other scouts in caring for those who were rescued, received but small notice. but they never as much as thought of it--with julie and joan in a fair way to win a medal that would lift the entire troop to recognition at headquarters in new york. when breakfast was over, mr. gilroy expressed his other idea. "i have a plan that may meet with general approval, but that remains to be seen. now listen carefully, while i speak, and then do as you like afterwards. my boys and these girls are willing to teach you how to do what i am about to propose, and help in any way we can to make every one comfortable for the time being. "you have no house to sleep in, and mrs. dickens will have no boarders to help her meet her expenses and loss, unless we immediately find some way to change all this seeming trouble. so this is my suggestion: "we scouts are accustomed to sleeping out-of-doors and thus we know how to make the finest beds out of the material nature provides. we will show every one how to weave these balsam beds that are superior to any handmade spring and hair mattress. "while you people are completing your beds, we will paddle up to a place yhon told me about, where a number of indians camp. they make and sell tents to parties coming to the adirondacks for the summer. then at the end of the season they will buy them back and pay prices according to the condition the tents are in. perhaps we can rent a number of tents, as the summer is now half over. "if enough boarders agree to this plan, and will insure the risk to mrs. dickens by advancing the money necessary to pay for the tents, we scouts will go after the tents for you and bring them back in our canoes. "mrs. dickens says she can quickly have a pavilion built that will answer for a dining-room, but any one who does not care for 'roughing' it in tent-life must find other accommodations. all such can have meals in the pavilion, but must take second table as boarders remaining in camp will naturally have first claim on the hostess' service." after a noisy debate, in which most of the ousted guests found these plans and future delights pleasant to discuss, the majority voted to remain and take up tent-life. thus it happened that mrs. dickens was helped out of the financial ruin that had stared her in the face a few hours before, and the guests were treated to a rare experience,--living in the open in the wonderful woods. the scouts started every one cutting the young tips of the balsams for their bedding, then paddled after yhon in the canoes, up the marion river to bear creek, where the guide knew several of his friends to have camps for the summer. they had tents to hire or for sale, and were only too glad to furnish all that were needed for the houseless boarders at dickens' landing. the tent-outfits were carefully packed inside the canoes, and the scouts joyfully paddled back, realizing that "what blesses one, blesses all" in this working out of a good idea. when the scouts landed with the tents and found that enough balsam had been stripped for the beds, they began to weave the tips as all scouts know how to do. meantime, mr. gilroy, yhon, and several of the men raised the tents and secured them in such places as mrs. dickens selected. the balsam beds were then made up in the tents, and before evening, every one was provided with room and beds, thanks to the scouts. as the canoes left that shore, they were sped with many blessings, for they had done a great thing for those standing on the rocks, watching them depart. chapter thirteen shooting the rapids--and other things "well, 'where do we go from here, boys?'" called mr. gilroy, laughingly, as he looked back over his shoulder at the scouts. "anywhere but home!" exclaimed julie. "why not there? don't you like my camp-ground?" asked mr. gilroy, teasingly. "of course, but after such a night and day we won't want to settle down again into quiet life. we have to let ourselves down gradually," laughed alec. "well, then, we'll ask yhon where to go to-day," agreed mr. gilroy. "ride the rapids," returned yhon, as if that was enough said. such a shout that greeted this suggestion proved he was right in his surmise. finally, when mrs. vernon could be heard, she asked, "where are they--far from raquette lake?" "yhon, i suppose you mean those on the route to forked lake, through raquette river to long lake, eh?" said mr. gilroy. "um! up raquette fall to corey an' 'en to sar'nac." "saranac lake! oh, i've always wanted to see it!" cried julie. "do let's go, gilly!" begged other voices. "shall we take a vote on it?" laughed mr. gilroy. "why waste time--it is unanimously decided already," retorted alec for the boys. "yhon, i'm afraid you've let me in for trouble!" cried mr. gilroy, but he turned his canoe just the same, and led the way. the scouts now followed mr. gilroy and yhon across the mouth of the marion river, and rounded woods' point. across boulder bay, to bluff point, they paddled, and carefully rounding this point they entered outlet bay. then the usual route was taken up the bay until they reached forked lake carry. they were all in high spirits and the short carry only added to their enjoyment. the canoes were launched again in forked lake waters and they paddled until the end of the lake was reached. where it joins raquette river was a carry of a mile and a half, and seeing that it was noon and time for luncheon, mr. gilroy said: "why not have something to eat first, and carry afterwards?" "oh, that will add to the work of carrying," retorted julie. "not only canoes but food!" but the boys were for eating, so they scanned the shore carefully as they slowly moved through the water, until yhon saw a place he considered suitable for camp. here a fire was soon started, and the four boys were sent out to fish. the girls were left to bake the bread and prepare the rest of the meal. in spite of their most skillful efforts, the boys did not have good luck, and returned with but a small catch of fish. hilarity due to the way the boys told how they had to fish made up for the lack and for everything else. when everything was packed neatly again, and all were ready to start, jake gave a wild leap and landed too near the edge of yhon's canoe. over it went, staples and outfits all going down into the water. "oh, all our sugar and salt--and everything!" cried julie. yhon never changed a muscle of his face, although he must have been taken by surprise when he was precipitated into the water. the outfits, hampers, and other things were quickly salvaged and restored to the canoe, but jake sat in disgrace on the bank, and hung his head as if he understood just what he had done. so much time had been used in rescuing yhon, in fishing their food-stock out of the water, and coaxing jake back into the canoe, that it was late when the scouts reached deerland lodge. "what say you, scouts,--shall we stop at the lodge, or take a chance up long lake until we reach a point where we can strike off to reach hendrick spring, the fountainhead of the hudson river?" asked mr. gilroy. "and where shall we camp?" asked mrs. vernon. "it might be nice to camp at the spring," suggested alec. "oh, yes, let's do that, gilly!" cried several voices. so they kept right on, paddling swiftly along until they reached a place on the shore where yhon said they must land if they proposed going to hendrick spring. "oh, i thought we could canoe there," ventured julie. "no, we must leave yhon here to watch the canoes while we hike along the trail that goes there. we can carry our sleeping-bags and take enough food for supper, then come back early in the morning for a good breakfast with yhon," explained mr. gilroy. "is there no way we might take to return to fulton chain lakes other than going back the same route?" questioned mrs. vernon. "no, we shall have to go the way we come, or be willing to _carry_ overland for many miles, from one water to the other." "oh, no, that is out of the question," said the captain. so each scout took a sleeping-bag and cup and plate, while the boys carried the extra cooking outfit, and alec his rifle. the trail led through a most wonderful primeval forest where lichened stones, moss-clothed fallen trees and luxuriant foliage of standing timber furnished homes for countless wild creatures. they had not gone far before a ruddy-hued fox tried to back out of their way on the trail, and managed successfully to merge his color with that of the yellow-brown verdure about him. further on, alec suddenly lifted his rifle and aimed, but the furtive mottled animal that had been crouching along the mottled limb of a tree leaped back with the least possible noise or disturbance of the foliage, and was gone! "that was _some_ wildcat, but she was too slick for me!" said alec, when questioned about missing it. the scouts saw so many unfamiliar birds that they wished they had carried a bird book on the trip to help them identify all they now saw. notes were taken, however, to help them look up and catalogue the varieties, later, in camp. there were many other interesting living creatures, also; some half-hid under leaves or twigs, others squatting daringly in the open, with questioning eyes fixed on these clumsy intruders. finally the scouts reached hendrick springs, but to their consternation the place was already tenanted with undesirable tramps. mr. gilroy politely questioned the three men who claimed to be timber-jacks, but their empty package that had contained food and the quart bottle that had once been filled with whiskey, now also empty, belied their story. their hardened faces, unkempt appearance, and other earmarks caused a little apprehension in the hearts of the girls and mrs. vernon; but soon after the new arrivals started their fire to cook supper, the three tramps got up and quietly left. scanty beds of balsam were soon made for the night for the girls, but the boys preferred to sleep upon the grass. after a few campfire tales, they decided who was to keep the fire burning all night to ward off any wild animals, and also to guard against the return of the evil-looking tramps. "we girls want to take our turn in watching, as well as the boys, gilly!" declared joan, when she heard how the guard was to be divided up for the night. "oh, you girls need sleep, but we don't," said bob. "we are just as hale as any of you boys, and we want to do our bit!" exclaimed julie, decidedly. "well, then, if you must, you will!" sighed mr. gilroy, comically. "now i have to begin all over again and figure out this problem. let's see: "first, alec and bob mount guard two hours; then dick and ned guard for two more; then julie and joan; and lastly, all the other girls and myself. how is that?" every one laughed, for julie and joan were now getting all they bargained for. so alec and bob went on duty, while the rest stretched out and fell asleep. at eleven o'clock the next two boys were called; but at one o'clock, when it was time to rouse julie and joan, mr. gilroy crept over and motioned the boys to let him mount duty for a time. it was nearly three when julie woke up and rubbed her eyes. she instantly realized that no one had called her, so she nudged joan and got her up. then they crept over to the campfire and scolded mr. gilroy for breaking faith with them. he laughed and gladly went back to finish his night's repose. having been so sound asleep just before going on duty, and being utterly tired out with the day's experiences, the two girls sat by the fire endeavoring to keep each other fully awake. but the sand man was too powerful for them to resist his dreamy influence, and soon joan dozed while julie yawned and did her best to keep her eyelids open. an hour passed and joan was sweetly sleeping, while julie was nodding, heavy with sleep. suddenly a crackling of branches behind them caused julie to start wide awake. "joan, are you awake?" whispered julie fearfully, shaking her friend. "sure--why?" mumbled joan, sitting up to rub her eyes. [illustration: "where--which way did you hear them?" questioned joan ... page ] "i heard some one--maybe those tramps are back to do something," whispered julie, trying to peer through the misty night. "where--which way did you hear them?" questioned joan, now fully awake, too. "see those long shadows by the trees, over there?" returned julie. "i'll pile a lot more wood on the fire and make it blaze so we can see them if they come nearer." so saying, she threw so much wood on the fire that it instantly smothered the red glow and began smoking like a chimney. the smoke drove the girls from that side of the fire and caused them to cough violently, while there was a lively scrambling of feet over by the trees, and both girls began calling: "gilly! gilly, wake up! the tramps are here!" that cry brought every one to his feet, and the moment all heads got the benefit of the smoke, every one began coughing. but they managed to creep along the ground to the side of the fire, where the two girls stood gazing at the trees in question. just as alec crept up beside the scouts with rifle up ready to aim at whatever he found skulking about them, there sounded a frightful screeching, and hoarse calls came from the lower branches of the tree. "i knew it! i saw them creep over and heard them climb," cried julie, quaking with excitement. "they planned to drop something on our heads, i guess," added joan, her eyes bulging as she tried to see into the foliage. just as alec decided to take aim and fire haphazardly, knowing that he could not see in the dark but could frighten the tramps, bob caught hold of his arm. he was unaware that it held a gun that was cocked ready to fire. the rifle went off prematurely, the shot hit the mark without alec's trying for it, and a heavy thud informed the scouts that the bullet was fatal! instantly, however, there was such a commotion in the leaves, and such a bedlam of screeching! finally a great flock of crows swept out of the high tree and flew away to find a less dangerous roost. the first streaks of dawn were penetrating the forest's darkness when the offended crows left their ancestral tree; and the scouts looked at each other in surprise. but alec was sure it was not a crow he had downed--it was too heavy for that! so the boys crept carefully over to the place where they thought to find the body of a tramp, while the girls followed at a respectful distance. then the relieved cry from alec, and the laughing calls from the other boys, hurried the girls to join their friends. there they saw a dead wildcat of truly awesome size. in its clenched teeth it still held the young nestling--the object of its nocturnal climb into the tree. alec's unexpected shot had hit true and had done for the crafty animal. "well, this is some trophy to carry back home, eh?" cried alec delightedly, as he turned the cat over with his foot. "i'm glad you didn't kill anything more than the wildcat," added mrs. vernon. "if you boys intend carrying that back to camp, you'll have to skin it now and take only the pelt. you can't be bothered with the heavy beast itself. leave the carcass for the wild denizens that will be glad to feed on this, their enemy," advised mr. gilroy. "and do give us the crow! if it hadn't been for joan and me you wouldn't have had the wildcat!" exclaimed julie. "if it hadn't been for you two imaginative scouts we all would still be snoozing peacefully beside the fire," laughed alec. chapter fourteen the grand surprise when the scouts returned to their camp beside little moose lake, they were impressed anew with the peace and beauty of the spot. the canoe trip had been delightful and exciting, but all were glad to get back to a simple life once more. having seen the scout girls safely back home, and their canoes in the lake for future use, mr. gilroy sighed and said, "now i shall take a long rest and recover from the past few days' work!" a few days after their return from the "voyage," as they called it, the scout girls received a bundle of mail. in it were newspapers, many letters, and other interesting items. the papers were all "marked copies," and the mail proved to be letters filled with congratulations and words of praise for the brave girls. "why, they must be crazy! every one's writing about what we did at the fire!" laughed julie. "yes, just listen to this from 'liza, every one!" called out betty. and she read: "'so i sez to yer pa, yu've got two fine scouts in them girls, mister lee, and this proves it. any girl what will climb the side of a house to save folkses from burning, is wuth a lot of lazy, good-fer-nothin' boys, i sez.'" every one laughed heartily at the praise thus bestowed upon them; but betty said regretfully, "it's too bad i didn't do as much as julie did at that fire. daddy won't feel very proud of me, i'm afraid!" "oh, but you did, betty! you ran for the captain and did all sorts of stunts we couldn't have done. but not every one could climb like jo and i do!" said julie, soothingly. "oh, girls!" exclaimed the captain, who had been hurriedly glancing over one of the papers received. "listen to this from a new york paper. oh, i am so proud of you all!" then she read: "'at a recent fire that destroyed dickens' hotel at raquette lake, adirondacks, a group of girl scouts known as the dandelion troop saved many lives and did heroic work in saving property. one of the hotel guests told our local reporter the story and we print his own words.'" then followed an account of the fire, and how it started because of a defective flue in the kitchen chimney. it told in detail all that the girls did, but the story merely mentioned alec and _his_ courageous act. at the last of the story, a full description was given of how the balsam beds were made, and how the boarders were now enjoying themselves in tent-life and out-of-door camp cooking. and all this was due, it said, to the girl scouts being able to teach the homeless boarders how to help themselves with the bountiful supply from nature. that morning, mr. gilroy came down to the camp to hear the news, for he also had received several papers with the story of the fire in them. after the excitement of reading it all over again to him, the girls quieted down to hear what he wished to say. "i came to see about your plans for next summer's outing," said he. the girls looked at him quizzically, for they thought he was joking. mrs. vernon gasped, "next summer! we're not through with this year yet!" "i know that, but 'in times of peace prepare for war,' you know," laughed he. "tell us why you asked?" demanded julie. "because i am planning a trip for my next outing, and i am debating whether to invite any girl scouts to go with me." "where? aren't you going to stay here next summer?" was the answer from several girls. "no, i have had an important letter to-day. and i am going to accept the offer made me by the government, but it will cost any girl scout more to go with _me_ than it did to come to the adirondacks." "then that settles our going! we haven't a cent left over after this outing. if it hadn't been for those escaped felons last year we wouldn't have been here, i suppose!" sighed julie. "if it had not been the reward for the capture of the two felons that proved to be the means to bring you to the adirondacks, there would have been some other way of finding the supply for you. you see, girls, there is always plenty of everything for you when the source is unlimited," said mr. gilroy. "not one of us in dandelion troop have such a banker," laughed judith. "then, if this is so, why need we worry about expenses for next summer's outing with you?" added joan, in response to his remark. "i didn't ask you to worry," retorted mr. gilroy. "i only asked you to remember that you have the invitation, but it is up to you to find the channel of supply and break down the dam, so the supply will run smoothly and continuously for your needs." "how much shall we need, gilly?" asked julie, deeply interested in his words. "more than a thousand dollars for you all, i know that! but how much more depends upon our itinerary, and that depends on the captain." "oh, does she know about it?" chorused the girls. "not yet, but she will, shortly," laughed mr. gilroy. all the coaxings from nine persuasive girls failed to move mr. gilroy from the stand he had taken--not to tell about the next summer's plans. but a week later, when the scouts were well nigh forgetting all about his conversation, he brought a pleasant-faced gentleman to the camp to visit the girls. "this is mr. everard, scouts. he is anxious to meet julia and antoinette, since i told him what clever rascals they are. do you think they will do their tricks for company?" mr. everard laughed merrily, and it was readily seen that he had not come to see the calf and pig do the little tricks which the scouts had taught them. however, the calf and pig were brought out, and they performed as they had been trained to do, during many strenuous hours, and they won the applause of the stranger. then he spoke of the real cause of his visit. "i am one of the investigators of the carnegie reward society, and having heard of your bravery in the recent fire at raquette lake, i was sent here to ascertain various facts. from all accounts, the rescues you made were not only courageous and daring, but spectacular as well. it made a fine tale for the newspapers. one of the leading men on a metropolitan daily sent us a note asking whether such deeds were not rewarded by us." the scouts were too amazed to speak, but mrs. vernon spoke for them. she thanked mr. everard for coming, and said how pleased they all were that others appreciated the deeds performed by the dandelion scouts. "the medal will be given at the same time the reward of money is presented. so i need the names of the girls who took an active part in the rescues. those who rendered first aid to the sufferers may be awarded minor medals--i am not sure of that yet," explained mr. everard. "but alec did as much as jo and i, gilly," said julie, "although they didn't say much about him in the papers." "that has been corrected, but you didn't see the papers of the following day. and alec is to receive exactly the same reward as you girls," returned mr. gilroy. mr. everard did not mention the amount of money that was likely to arrive with the medals, but mrs. vernon spoke of it later. the two men left camp, and mr. everard was taken over to grey fox camp to meet the boys. "verny, maybe that reward will be the nest-egg of the supply we must have to go with gilly next summer!" declared julie excitedly, after both men had disappeared from view. "i was thinking of that when mr. everard spoke," said mrs. vernon. "i wonder how much they give to one--about a hundred dollars, i suppose," ventured joan. "oh, no! i've heard their cash rewards range from a thousand and down to five hundred dollars, according to the valor of the deed," replied the captain. "a thousand!" chorused the scouts in amazement. "why, that would take us all on gilly's trip," said julie. "maybe; but we don't know where he plans to go. if it is around the world, i fear the reward will not carry you all that far," rejoined mrs. vernon, smilingly. a few days after mr. everard's visit at camp, mr. gilroy came again. "well, scouts! was i right when i told you not to limit your supply to any old-fashioned mill-pond?" "you're always right--how could you _ever_ be mistaken?" was julie's retort. he laughed. "now, this flow of supply from the boundless source i preached about will give you the means to accept my invitation for next year." "we have already accepted, and are arranging to be absent from home for the length of time it takes to go to jericho and back again," answered julie. "not to the far east," laughed mr. gilroy, "but to the most wonderful mountains on earth, though the public has not realized that fact, because they are not yet the fashion. they are fast reaching that recognition, however. at present one can go there without being pestered by souvenir peddlers." "do tell us where it is, now that you've told us this much," begged the girls. but mr. gilroy shook his head and left them guessing. the last of august was passing quickly, and the scouts sighed whenever they remembered that they must close the wonderful camp the first week of september. there was still, however, one delight in store for them. that was the county fair, held the first three days of september. they had entered julia and antoinette to compete for prizes in their individual classes. the boys, as well as the girls, spent those days at the fair grounds, showing the tricks julia and the pig could do, and also going about seeking votes for their pets. the result of this faithful work was seen when the prizes were awarded. dandelion scout camp won first prize of a hundred dollars for having the heaviest and finest pig exhibited that year. another fifty dollars came for antoinette's being the best amateur trick animal shown that year. julia won second prize of fifty dollars for having the required number of points in breeding and development. then, after the fair closed, an animal trainer who made his living going about giving shows of trick animals made an offer for the two pets, saying he had seen them perform at the fair. "what shall we do? suppose the man is cruel to them?" asked julie, worried over the disposal of julia and anty. "it can't be much worse than sending them to a butcher," remarked mr. gilroy. "oh, mercy! we never could sell them for meat!" cried joan. "i shall never eat another mouthful of veal or pork," added betty, fervently. "none of us will ever eat meat again!" declared the others. "but that doesn't answer this letter," the captain reminded them. "the man offers a good price, girls, and having so much capital invested, he will surely take care of the investment," said mr. gilroy. "y-e-s, that's so! well, i'll tell you what, girls," said julie. "let's make him double his offer, and that will make him still more appreciative of julia and anty. if he takes it, all right. if he doesn't, we can write to some other zoo trainer, now that we know we have two fine trained pets." but the animal trainer expected a "come-back," and was only too glad to secure julia and anty at the price the scouts mentioned. and that added materially to the fund for the next summer's outing--wherever it was to be. the day the trainer came to take possession of his newly acquired pets, the girls felt blue over saying good-by to them. anty had been so thoroughly scrubbed that she glistened, and julia had been brushed and currycombed until she looked like satin. "oh, anty! shake hands just once more," wailed judith, as she held out her hand to the pig. anty immediately stood upon her hind legs and held out a hoof that had made such distracting imprints for the scouts early in the summer. "i'll buy the little bark shed, too. i know that all pets love their own little sleeping-places and get so used to them they never feel at home in new quarters. i'll take the pen with me," said the trainer. so anty was the means of adding to the coffer of gold the scouts were now dreaming of. and the artistic little bark house was taken away for anty's especial use thereafter. after the departure of julia and antoinette, the scouts felt lonely, and the camp was soon dismantled of all the exhibits that had been used for decorations that summer. everything was packed and shipped back home, and then came the day when mr. bentley came in his touring car to assist in the transportation of the campers to their old homes and families. as they all stood on the verandah of the bungalow shaking hands with mr. gilroy and telling him what a precious old dear he was to have bothered with them all summer, he said: "but you haven't asked me for the itinerary for next year." "we have, again and again, but you said it was not yet time for that!" exclaimed julie. "well, it _is_ time now. i have to spend all next summer in the rocky mountains collecting specimens of glacial deposits, so i need your company to keep me cheerful. it is up to you to win the consent of your people and save the money for the trip." such a chorus of youthful voices as greeted that wondrous prospect made the adults laugh. "you seem to welcome the idea of camping in the rockies?" suggested mr. gilroy, as the scouts piled into the cars ready to go home. "do we! well, gilly, just you wait and see if we are not with you next year in those rockies!" laughed julie. * * * * * _this isn't all!_ would you like to know what became of the good friends you have made in this book? would you like to read other stories continuing their adventures and experiences, or other books quite as entertaining by the same author? on the _reverse side_ of the wrapper which comes with this book, you will find a wonderful list of stories which you can buy at the same store where you got this book. _don't throw away the wrapper_ _use it as a handy catalog of the books you want some day to have. but in case you do mislay it, write to the publishers for a complete catalog._ girl scouts series by lillian elizabeth roy author of the "polly brewster books" handsomely bound. colored wrappers. illustrated. each volume complete in itself. here is a series that holds the same position for girls that the tom slade and roy blakeley books hold for boys. they are delightful stories of girl scout camp life amid beautiful surroundings and are filled with stirring adventures. girl scouts at dandelion camp this is a story which centers around the making and the enjoying of a mountain camp, spiced with the fun of a lively troop of girl scouts. the charm of living in the woods, of learning woodcraft of all sorts, of adventuring into the unknown, combine to make a busy and an exciting summer for the girls. girl scouts in the adirondacks new scenery, new problems of camping, association with a neighboring camp of boy scouts, and a long canoe trip with them through the fulton chain, all in the setting of the marvelous adirondacks, bring to the girls enlargement of horizon, new development, and new joys. girl scouts in the rockies on horseback from denver through estes park as far as the continental divide, climbing peaks, riding wild trails, canoeing through canyons, shooting rapids, encountering a landslide, a summer blizzard, a sand storm, wild animals, and forest fires, the girls pack the days full with unforgettable experiences. girl scouts in arizona and new mexico the girl scouts visit the mountains and deserts of arizona and new mexico. they travel over the old santa fe trail, cross the painted desert, and visit the grand canyon. their exciting adventures form a most interesting story. girl scouts in the redwoods the girls spend their summer in the redwoods of california and incidentally find a way to induce a famous motion picture director in hollywood to offer to produce a film that stars the girl scouts of america. the lilian garis books attractively bound. illustrated. individual colored wrappers. every volume complete in itself. lilian garis is one of the writers who always wrote. she expressed herself in verse from early school days and it was then predicted that lilian mack would one day become a writer. justifying this sentiment, while still at high school, she took charge of the woman's page for a city paper and her work there attracted such favorable attention that she left school to take entire charge of the woman's page for the largest daily in an important eastern city. mrs. garis turned to girls' books directly after her marriage, and of these she has written many. she believes in girls, studies them and depicts them with pen both skilled and sympathetic. barbara hale: a doctor's daughter barbara hale and cozette gloria: a girl and her dad gloria at boarding school joan: just girl joan's garden of adventure connie loring's ambition connie loring's dilemma amy bell marlowe's books for girls charming, fresh and original stories illustrated. wrappers printed in colors with individual design for each story miss marlowe's books for girls are somewhat of the type of miss alcott and also mrs. meade; but all are thoroughly up-to-date and wholly american in scene and action. good, clean absorbing tales that all girls thoroughly enjoy. the oldest of four; or, natalie's way out. a sweet story of the struggles of a live girl to keep a family from want. the girls at hillcrest farm; or, the secret of the rocks. relating the trials of two girls who take boarders on an old farm. a little miss nobody; or, with the girls of pinewood hall. tells of a schoolgirl who was literally a nobody until she solved the mystery of her identity. the girl from sunset ranch; or, alone in a great city. a ranch girl comes to new york to meet relatives she has never seen. her adventures make unusually good reading. wyn's camping days; or, the outing of the go-ahead club. a tale of happy days on the water and under canvas, with a touch of mystery and considerable excitement. francis of the ranges: or, the old ranchman's treasure. a vivid picture of life on the great cattle ranges of the west. the girls of rivercliff school; or, beth baldwin's resolve. this is one of the most entertaining stories centering about a girl's school that has ever been written. when oriole came to harbor light. the story of a young girl, cast up by the sea, and rescued by an old lighthouse keeper. when oriole traveled westward. oriole visits the family of a rich ranchman and enjoys herself immensely. the outdoor girls series by laura lee hope author of the "bobbsey twins," "bunny brown" series, etc. uniform style of binding. individual colored wrappers. every volume complete in itself. these tales take in the various adventures participated in by several bright, up-to-date girls who love outdoor life. the outdoor girls of deepdale; or, camping and tramping for fun and health. the outdoor girls at rainbow lake; or, the stirring cruise of the motor boat gem. the outdoor girls in a motor car; or, the haunted mansion of shadow valley. the outdoor girls in a winter camp; or, glorious days on skates and ice boats. the outdoor girls in florida; or, wintering in the sunny south. the outdoor girls at ocean view; or, the box that was found in the sand. the outdoor girls on pine island; or, a cave and what it contained. the outdoor girls in army service; or, doing their bit for uncle sam. the outdoor girls at the hostess house; or, doing their best for the soldiers. the outdoor girls at bluff point; or, a wreck and a rescue. the outdoor girls at wild rose lodge; or, the hermit of moonlight falls. the outdoor girls in the saddle; or, the girl miner of gold run. the outdoor girls around the campfire; or, the old maid of the mountains. the outdoor girls on cape cod; or, sally ann of lighthouse rock. the blythe girls books by laura lee hope individual colored wrappers and text illustrations by thelma gooch every volume complete in itself the blythe girls, three in number, were left alone in new york city. helen, who went in for art and music, kept the little flat uptown, while margy just out of a business school, obtained a position as a private secretary and rose, plain-spoken and businesslike, took what she called a "job" in a department store. the blythe girls: helen, margy and rose; or, facing the great world. a fascinating tale of real happenings in the great metropolis. the blythe girls: margy's queer inheritance; or, the worth of a name. the girls had a peculiar old aunt and when she died she left an unusual inheritance. this tale continues the struggles of all the girls for existence. the blythe girls: rose's great problem; or, face to face with a crisis. rose still at work in the big department store, is one day faced with the greatest problem of her life. a tale of mystery as well as exciting girlish happenings. the blythe girls: helen's strange boarder; or, the girl from bronx park. helen, out sketching, goes to the assistance of a strange girl, whose real identity is a puzzle to all the blythe girls. who the girl really was comes as a tremendous surprise. the blythe girls: three on a vacation; or, the mystery at peach farm. the girls close their flat and go to the country for two weeks--and fall in with all sorts of curious and exciting happenings. how they came to the assistance of joe morris, and solved a queer mystery, is well related. carolyn wells books attractively bound. illustrated. colored wrappers. the marjorie books marjorie is a happy little girl of twelve, up to mischief, but full of goodness and sincerity. in her and her friends every girl reader will see much of her own love of fun, play and adventure. marjorie's vacation marjorie's busy days marjorie's new friend marjorie in command marjorie's maytime marjorie at seacote * * * * * the two little women series introducing dorinda fayre--a pretty blonde, sweet, serious, timid and a little slow, and dorothy rose--a sparkling brunette, quick, elf-like, high tempered, full of mischief and always getting into scrapes. two little women two little women and treasure house two little women on a holiday * * * * * the dick and dolly books dick and dolly are brother and sister, and their games, their pranks, their joys and sorrows, are told in a manner which makes the stories "really true" to young readers. dick and dolly dick and dolly's adventures the bobbsey twins books for little men and women by laura lee hope author of "the bunny brown series," etc. durably bound. illustrated. uniform style of binding. every volume complete in itself. these books for boys and girls between the ages of three and ten stand among children and their parents of this generation where the books of louisa may alcott stood in former days. the haps and mishaps of this inimitable pair of twins, their many adventures and experiences are a source of keen delight to imaginative children everywhere. the bobbsey twins the bobbsey twins in the country the bobbsey twins at the seashore the bobbsey twins at school the bobbsey twins at snow lodge the bobbsey twins on a houseboat the bobbsey twins at meadow brook the bobbsey twins at home the bobbsey twins in a great city the bobbsey twins on blueberry island the bobbsey twins on the deep blue sea the bobbsey twins in the great west the bobbsey twins at cedar camp the bobbsey twins at the county fair the bobbsey twins camping out the bobbsey twins and baby may the bobbsey twins keeping house the bobbsey twins at cloverbank the bunny brown series by laura lee hope author of the popular "bobbsey twins" books, etc. durably bound. illustrated. uniform style of binding. every volume complete in itself. these stories by the author of the "bobbsey twins" books are eagerly welcomed by the little folks from about five to ten years of age. their eyes fairly dance with delight at the lively doings of inquisitive little bunny brown and his cunning, trustful sister sue. bunny brown and his sister sue bunny brown and his sister sue on grandpa's farm bunny brown and his sister sue playing circus bunny brown and his sister sue at camp rest-a-while bunny brown and his sister sue at aunt lu's city home bunny brown and his sister sue in the big woods bunny brown and his sister sue on an auto tour bunny brown and his sister sue and their shetland pony bunny brown and his sister sue giving a show bunny brown and his sister sue at christmas tree cove bunny brown and his sister sue in the sunny south bunny brown and his sister sue keeping store bunny brown and his sister sue and their trick dog bunny brown and his sister sue at a sugar camp six little bunkers series by laura lee hope author of the bobbsey twins books, the bunny brown series, the blythe girls books, etc. durably bound. illustrated. uniform style of binding. every volume complete in itself. delightful stories for little boys and girls which sprung into immediate popularity. to know the six little bunkers is to take them at once to your heart, they are so intensely human, so full of fun and cute sayings. each story has a little plot of its own--one that can be easily followed--and all are written in miss hope's most entertaining manner. clean, wholesome volumes which ought to be on the bookshelf of every child in the land. six little bunkers at grandma bell's six little bunkers at aunt jo's six little bunkers at cousin tom's six little bunkers at grandpa ford's six little bunkers at uncle fred's six little bunkers at captain ben's six little bunkers at cowboy jack's six little bunkers at mammy june's six little bunkers at farmer joel's six little bunkers at miller ned's six little bunkers at indian john's grosset & dunlap, publishers, new york +-----------------------------------------------------+ |transcriber's note: | | | |the word catalogue appears in the main text, but is | |catalog in the advertisements at the end of the book.| |raquette lake is also shown as racquette lake. | +-----------------------------------------------------+ the banner boy scouts or the struggle for leadership by george a. warren the world syndicate publishing co. cleveland, o. new york, n.y. copyright, mcmxii by cupples & leon company _printed in the united states of america_ contents chapter i a meeting in the barn ii what it means to be a boy scout iii the disappearing coins iv the first scout leader v checking a coward vi a strange suggestion vii the trap that peleg set viii turning the tables ix "well done, my boy!" x an unexpected offer xi caught napping xii the rival troops xiii "fire!" xiv jack's chance xv the honor brand xvi the fire test xvii clearing skies xviii carlo does his turn xix the warning over the wire xx such glorious luck xxi the meeting xxii scouting in earnest xxiii the red car xxiv a call for help xxv a camp in the woods xxvi what woodcraft told xxvii ted finds something xxviii forced to tell xxix the capture xxx found out at last xxxi well done, stanhope troop!--conclusion preface my dear boys: knowing that ninety-nine lads out of every hundred love outdoor life above all else, i have taken it upon myself to give you a series of what i hope will prove to be clean, wide-awake, up-to-date stories, founded upon a subject that is interesting our whole nation--the boy scouts of america. you know what a hold this movement has taken upon the rising generation of our broad land. there never was anything like it before--there never may be again. at first many people made the mistake of believing that it was simply a new military order, and that boys who joined were to be taught the duties of soldiers, and learned how to fight. they know better now. it is really the greatest movement for peace ever started. not only that, but the lads who belong to this vast organization are taught how to be manly, self reliant, brave, courteous, kindly and steadfast. when you examine the roster of the officers who have loaned their names to help along the good cause you will find such honored signatures as those of president william howard taft, ex-president theodore roosevelt, and many others dear to the hearts of our boys. this glorious field opens up a very tempting opportunity for a series of stirring stories concerning the fortunes of _real_ boy scouts, who have gone into the movement heart and soul, with a desire to excel in all they undertake; and at the same time enjoy themselves hugely. i only hope and trust that you may be pleased with what you read in this book, about the doings of the red fox patrol, of stanhope troop, and that the story will do you much good. yours faithfully, george a. warren. the banner boy scouts chapter i a meeting in the barn "all here now, paul!" "call the roll, somebody, won't you?" "keep quiet, fellows, please!" "shall i strike a match, paul?" "not on your life, bobolink. that crowd of ted slavin's is out, looking for us. somebody must have leaked, or else ted was tipped off. we've got to be mighty cautious, i tell you, if we want to give them the slip." "s-s-say, d-d-don't you k-k-know we've got a fi-fine b-b-barn on our p-p-place, fellows?" "for goodness sake; won't somebody please pound bluff shipley on the back, and make him bite his twisted tongue, so he can talk straight?" cried a pleading voice. "listen!" there must have been a streak of authority in the tone used by paul morrison when he spoke this last word; every one of the other six boys crouched there, craning his neck, and listening to catch the unusual sound that had apparently reached the trained ears of their leader. the woods surrounded the boys on all sides, gloomy, and full of mystifying noises. yet paul knew full well just what every one of the sounds meant. an owl called mournfully to its mate from a hollow tree. katydids and merry crickets added their shrill music to the chorus of that late summer night. even a colony of tree frogs solemnly chanted their appeal for "more rain." during the day just ended six fellows in the thriving town of stanhope had received urgent telephone calls from paul, who was an only son of the leading doctor in the place. and each boy had promised to meet him at the three oaks by the time the clock in the church steeple had struck eight. it was even now booming out the hour. when the last stroke died away, the most impatient among the gathered boys moved restlessly. "follow me, fellows," said paul, in a low, thrilling tone. "where are we heading for?" queried one, who had as yet failed to express his feelings in the matter. this was wallace carberry, the sober member of the pair known far and wide as the carberry twins; his mate, william, being his exact counterpart in every particular, when he chose to repress the good-natured grin that usually marked his fate. "to the shipley barn; single file; and silence is the watchword!" paul morrison had long enjoyed the confidence of his comrades in most matters pertaining to outdoor sports. a healthy lad, both in mind and body, he was never so happy as when studying the secrets of nature in wood and meadow; or in playing any of the various strenuous games to which all boys with red blood in their veins are addicted. and when he sent out his mysterious request that some of his most intimate friends meet him on this night, as he had a communication of importance to put up to them, the greatest curiosity made itself manifest. paul never suggested ordinary things. more than once he had engineered some game that brought honor and glory to the boys of stanhope; and remembering these satisfactory "stunts" of old, it was no wonder these fellows had come to the place of meeting without a single exception. with bluff shipley close upon the heels of the leader, and robert oliver link, whose name had long since been corrupted into bobolink, bringing up the rear, the seven lads trailed through the woods, following some path with which they were evidently more or less familiar. several times paul gave a recognized signal that caused every one of the bunch to stop short, and turn his head on one side in the endeavor to discover whether hostile footsteps could be heard in their rear. but although there were doubtless many rustling sounds, the boys laid these to the bright-eyed little denizens of that strip of woodland. too often had they watched the chipmunks and red squirrels hunting for nuts under the already falling leaves, not to know that the forest was peopled with these harmless animals. after five minutes more there loomed up before them the dark outlines of a huge barn that seemed rather out of place here on the border of the woods. this belonged to the father of bluff, who, being a prosperous tobacco grower in this valley, used the place to cure the product of his broad fields, after it had been harvested in the fall. paul had been carrying some sort of package in his hand, and the boys for some time amused themselves in guessing its nature. when he took off the paper it stood revealed as a lantern, ready for lighting. "show us the way inside, bluff. then we'll have a little light on the subject," remarked the leader, with a last anxious searching look around; as though he still entertained suspicions that their march to the old barn might have been observed by some of the hostile slavin crowd. ted slavin had long been known as the bully of stanhope; for it seems that there never yet existed a village or town without some big chap exercising that privilege. he was a fighter, too, and able to hold his own against the best. besides, ted had shown some of the qualities that indicate a natural leader; though he held the allegiance of those who trailed after him mostly through fear, rather than any respect for his manly qualities. his leading crony for the past year had been ward kenwood, son of the wealthy banker who was also a leading real estate owner in the place. once upon a time ward would have scorned the thought of associating with slavin and his crowd; but an occasion had arisen whereby he had need of a strong arm to even up a score, and once he found himself indebted to ted he kept on in the bully's company. his rivalry in many fields with paul had much to do with his throwing his fortunes in with the other fellows. and nothing pleased him more than to be able to upset any calculations the latter entertained. that explained why paul was anxious to avoid a meeting with the slavin crowd on this particular night, when he was brimming over with a great idea. once the boys had entered the barn, bluff secured the door, after which a match was quickly lighted. "now, here we are, safe and sound, and not an enemy around. suppose you open up, paul, and get this load off our minds," said albert cypher, who seldom heard his own name among his friends, but was known far and wide as nuthin'. but what else could a lad expect who was so unfortunate as to find himself afflicted with such a name as a. cypher? "yes, what's it all mean, paul? you haven't even taken me in, you know, and i'm as much in the dark as the next fellow," remarked jack stormways, reproachfully; for being paul's closest chum he might have expected to share his confidence. "wait a bit. we might as well make ourselves comfortable while we're about it. i'll sit down on this box, and the rest of you gather around on the floor. i've got a big proposition to make, and you want to listen carefully." "t-t-take c-c-care of the lantern, f-f-fellows; my d-d-dad's w-w-wanting this old barn f-f-for his t-t-tobacco crop, and he'd b-b-be some put out if it b-b-burned just now!" came from bluff. finding perches on various low piles of waste left over after the shipment of the last crop, the six lads gathered around paul, eagerness stamped on every beaming face. "now, what's the idea that struck you this time, paul?" demanded bobolink. "i'll tell you without any beating around the bush, fellows. the thought came to me that stanhope was away behind the times. other towns not nearly so big, have one or more troops of boy scouts. why shouldn't we get up one here?" and paul waited to hear what the response would be. the six who sat in a ring looked at each other as though stunned by the proposal. it was strange, indeed, that no one had up to this time taken a lead in advancing such a thing. "bully idea, paul!" ejaculated jack, slapping a hand on his knee enthusiastically, as though it appealed to him most decidedly. "well, i declare, to think that nobody ever mentioned such a grand movement before. count me in right from the start!" said wallace carberry--sober wallace, who usually measured his words as though they were golden. "and me too," observed bobolink. "ditto for william!" called out the other carberry twin, grinning with delight. "g-g-guess i'd make a bully good t-t-tenderfoot!" "that's the best thing you ever thought up, old chap," came from nuthin'. "hurrah! every county heard from, and not one contrary word. it looks as if there might be something doing right soon around this region," declared paul, naturally pleased because his proposition had met with such unanimous satisfaction. "tell us more about it, please. i've read about the boy scouts; but my mother would take a fit if she thought i was practicing to become a soldier. you see, i had an older brother, who enlisted to go out with some of the boys when we had our little fuss about cuba and the philippines; and poor frank died in camp of typhoid fever. i'll have a hard time winning her over, and the dad, too," remarked bobolink, sadly. "well, that's where you make a big mistake, bobolink. over in england, where the boy scout movement started, it has some connection with the army, because there, you see, every fellow expects at some time to serve his country as a soldier, or on board a naval vessel. but here in america, the movement is one for peace." "then what's all the doings about?" asked nuthin', as if puzzled. "i know, and paul is right about it," came from wallace carberry, always quite a reader of newspapers and magazines. "let him tell then. i'm for the game, no matter what it means," cried bobolink. "and i think bluff knows something about it, for he said he would do for the lowest grade of scout, which is the tenderfoot. but i don't think any of you are qualified to take even that degree; for a tenderfoot must first be familiar with scout law, sign, salute, and know what his badge means; he must know about our national flag, and the usual forms of salute due to it; and be able to tie some seven or eight common knots. how about that, bluff?" "n-n-not guilty!" promptly answered the one addressed. "say, that sounds interesting any way. tell us some more about this, paul!" exclaimed william, always eager to hear of anything that smacked of novelty. "well, there are two more degrees a fellow can climb up to, a second-class scout, and a first-class scout, full fledged. after that, if he wants to keep right on there are merit badges to be won for excelling in angling, athletics, camping, cooking at the campfire, taxidermy, first aid to the injured, handicraft, life saving, path-finding, and a lot more." "now you've got me stuck on this new game," cried bobolink, excitedly. "the more you explain the better i like the idea. me for the boy scouts, fellows!" "hear! hear! paul, the idea is yours, and we vote unanimously that you occupy the exalted position of scout master--i know that every troop has to have such a head, and you're better fitted for the job than any fellow in town!" "yes," laughed paul, "but unfortunately, i believe a scout master has to be over twenty-one years of age." "who knows the ways of the open like our paul? he's the right man in the right place. say, are there any books on the subject, that we can get, and learn more about this thing?" asked wallace, who seemed to be particularly well pleased. "i've already sent for a manual, and expect it by to-morrow; when we can find out all about it. but wishing to be posted when i put the question i went over the river to aldine to-day, and saw some of the boys there who belong to the scouts. they made me more anxious than ever to start a patrol in our home town." "but i've seen something about a troop?" remarked jack stormways, who, paul thought, seemed unusually sober for a boy ordinarily light-hearted. "yes, a troop takes in say, three local posts called patrols, each of which has eight members. it is known by a number, as troop one of boston; and each minor organization takes a name of some animal, such as wildcat or fox. if it is called fox, every boy belonging to it is supposed to be able to bark like a fox, so as to be able to signal a comrade while scouting in the woods." "ginger! but that does sound interesting," declared william. "it's j-j-just immense, that's w-w-what!" was bluff's opinion. "listen! i heard a laugh as sure as anything!" exclaimed paul, lifting a hand to indicate silence; and every one of the group assumed an attitude of expectancy. as they waited there suddenly came a tremendous crash, as some object landed forcibly against the wooden side of the old barn. it was instantly followed by a second bang, and others came quick and fast, until the noise might be likened to a bombardment from a hostile battery. "it's the slavin crowd!" called bobolink, excitedly jumping to his feet. "they followed us here after all, and have been listening to every word!" "all hands to repel boarders!" shouted paul; and with a cheer the seven boys rushed over to the door, out of which they sprang, bent on retaliating on their tormentors. chapter ii what it means to be a boy scout "where are the stone throwers?" shouted the merry member of the carberry twins, as he danced up and down, eagerly trying to discover some moving object in the surrounding darkness. "gone like smoke, i guess," laughed paul, who had really expected something of this sort, judging from past experiences with these same tormentors. "look there, i can see something moving yonder. get ready to give a volley!" cried nuthin', pointing as he spoke. "h-h-hold on, f-f-fellows, d-d-don't fire yet! it's only our old d-d-dun cow!" gasped bluff, excitedly; as he waved his arms up and down after the manner of a cheer captain at a college football game. "they've lit out, that's what," grumbled william, who felt as though cheated. "all right, then. it's just as well, for a fight would be a mighty poor way of preparing to join the scout movement. you'll learn what i mean later on when you hear the twelve points of the law that every fellow must subscribe to," observed paul, seriously. "what d'ye mean, paul?" demanded bobolink, quickly. "yes, tell us right now what the twelve rules are," said william. "i know, for i read all about them a few days ago," remarked wallace, readily. "all right, then, suppose you call them off. what does a scout promise to be if allowed to wear the uniform, wallace?" asked the leader. "to be trustworthy, loyal, helpful to others, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient to his superiors, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent." "why, it doesn't say a single word about fighting!" ejaculated william. "because a scout must never fight save as a last resort, and then only to save some weak one from punishment. he must be brave to face danger, to stop a runaway horse; or jump in and keep another from drowning. do you get on to the meaning of this movement, fellows?" asked paul, eagerly. the more he read about it the greater became his desire to have a hand in organizing a stanhope troop that might compete with those of aldine and manchester, two rival towns, both on the opposite side of the bushkill river, the former a few miles up-stream, and the latter the same distance down. "we do, and i tell you i like it better and better the more i hear of it," said jack, earnestly. "why, i just had an idea it meant being junior soldiers, and drilling so as to be ready to invade canada, or repel the yellow peril when the little japs swarmed across the pacific. count me in, paul." "if i can pass the examination i'm going with you, sure," observed william. "all right, but if they take you in just remember that you've got to quit your playing tricks on everybody, william," declared the other carberry twin. "listen to him, will you? he's feeling hard on me just because dad gave him a touch of the cane last night, thinking it was me. as if i was to blame for looking like my brother," the other said, plaintively, though chuckling at the same time. "you know you fixed it so he'd pounce on me. i'm always in hot water because you must have your fun. 'taint fair, and i'd have to be an angel not to kick. oh! i hope you get to be a scout, because then i'll have some peace," declared wallace; but all the others knew very well what a deep and abiding affection there really lay between the carberry twins. "let's go home now. no use staying any longer out here, with ted slavin and his cronies hanging around, ready to bombard us again. besides, i guess paul wants to wait till he gets his book before telling us any more about the game." "right you are, nuthin'. i only wanted to see how the land lay, and if you took to the idea. i'm satisfied already that it's going to make a hit, if we can get a few more fellows to join in with us," said paul. "i know one good recruit i can drum up--tom bates," spoke up albert. "and a good addition to the seven now here. that would make our first patrol," echoed the leader, quickly. "how about inviting some of the slavin crowd to join us?" asked bobolink. "well, perhaps we might pick a couple there; but i think you'll have to be getting up early in the morning to manage it," replied paul, meaningly. "what's that?" asked william. "just this. ted slavin has heard our plans. you know that he never likes to see anybody else pull down the plums. what will he do right away, fellows?" "go and see his shadow, ward kenwood, and get him to put up the money to start the ball rolling. my word for it that inside of a week there'll be two rival boy scout troops in little old stanhope," remarked jack stormways. "say, that would be great, if the other crowd only acted on the square," ventured william. "we could have all sorts of contests between us. but i know ted slavin too well to believe he'll ever subscribe to the twelve rules wallace mentioned. why, he'd have to be made all over again to do that." "look here, paul, if a fellow has to live up to the rules, however could the members of ted's company be taken into a troop of boy scouts?" asked bobolink, who always sought information. "i don't believe they ever could. still, there's no law in the land to prevent any lot of boys from forming a patrol, and calling themselves scouts. that's my way of looking at it," was the answer the leader gave. the lads were now on their way home, the lantern having been secured, and extinguished, lest it invite another bombardment on the part of their tormentors, doubtless still hovering somewhere nearby. no further attack came, however, for which some of them were possibly sorry, particularly william and bluff, who delighted in strenuous action at all times. on the border of the town the seven separated into three groups, the twins going off arm in arm, bluff, bobolink and a. cypher forming another; while paul and his particular chum made up the third. "well," said paul, as they headed for the house of his comrade, which chanced to come before his own, "what do you think of my scheme, jack?" "immense, that's what. i'm only astonished that nobody else took up with the idea before. poor old stanhope seems to be away behind the times, paul." "well, i don't know. we've had lots going on this summer to take up our time; and then most of us were away during part of the vacation. there are other towns just as slow to catch on," returned the other, loyal to the place of his birth. "but now that the ball has been started rolling, just watch how fast it gathers force. i know how you go at these things. and of all the fellows i ever met, you are the one best fitted to lead in this thing, if i understand the game right. why, it's just going to fit in with the things you've preached and practiced for years." "that's why it appealed so strongly to me, after i really understood what the many duties of a scout were supposed to be. but what's the matter with you, jack?" "eh? with me? oh, nothing much, paul." but the other knew better, for he had noticed a frown come over jack's usually smiling countenance more than once that evening, when the other thought he was not observed; and from this paul felt positive his chum was worrying about something. "of course, if you think it best not to take me in on it, i'm the last one to bother you, old chap," he went on, when jack interrupted him. "it wasn't that, paul, not in the least. to tell the truth i've been thinking it over, and just about made up my mind that i must tell some one, or i'd never sleep easy. and of all my friends you're the one closest to me. yes, i'm going to confess that there is something that puzzles me, and fills me with alarm." "say, is it as bad as that, jack? but how is it you don't want to go to your own folks? you've got one of the best dads i ever knew, and your mother, well, few are in the same class with her." "that's just it, paul. i'd hate to have either of them know anything about this trouble." paul swung his friend around so that he could see into his face; for they were just passing a street lamp at the time. "oh! i can look you in the eyes, old fellow. it isn't anything disgraceful i've been doing, not at all. but you see," and again that frown darkened jack's brow as unpleasant things presented themselves before his mind's eye, "it's a family affair, i'm afraid, and must be kept quiet." "now you _have_ got me to guessing good and hard. suppose you tell me what it's all about. i hope your brother, karl--" and there paul stopped, for by instinct he seemed to feel that he had guessed the truth the first shot. jack had given a huge sigh that seemed to well up from his heart. "yes, it's about karl, only i do hope that it will prove a false alarm, because i just can't believe he'd do such a rotten thing," the other went on, slowly. "but he's only a little fellow after all, jack?" "that's so, but old enough to know better. you shall hear it all, and then perhaps you'll advise me what to do," went on paul's chum, with a vein of relief in his voice, as though he felt better already, after deciding to share his trouble with another. "that's right, and you know that it goes no further, jack." "karl got into some mischief a week ago, and to punish him father cut off his allowance of spending money for a whole month. now, karl belongs to a boys' club, and i heard that at their last meeting the other day he paid up his dues, and seemed to have plenty of money. the question that is bothering me is, where did he get it?" "oh! is that all? why, you forget that your brother is a bright chap; and i imagine you'll find he's been earning it some way or other; or perhaps his mother gave it to him. but see here, there's more back of this than you've told me?" declared paul, suddenly. "there is," replied his chum. "listen now, and for goodness sake i hope you can cheer me up some, by explaining a mystery that's bothering me. it's about those old coins uncle reuben sent to me two years ago. there are some twenty-one in the lot. they're copper coins, you know and i don't suppose worth much. i've always kept them in a little open cedar box on my table up in the den; you've spoken about them more than once." "sure, i remember all about them; but you don't mean to say--" and there paul stopped, almost afraid to voice the thought that flashed before his mind. "yes, a bunch of them have gone in a mighty queer way. why this morning there were just fourteen left; but to tell the truth i was afraid to go up there at supper time when i came in after our last game of ball on the lot, to see if any more had disappeared." "say it plainly, jack. some one is taking your old coins, sent by your uncle, and you're just afraid it's karl, tempted to get some money in that way. but where could he sell them, do you think?" "there's old doc. thomes, who keeps stamps and curios for sale. i've seen some coins in his window often. he would know the value of these, and perhaps be willing to pay something for them. oh! it's just awful even to suspect my brother of being guilty of such a mean thing. i hate myself for allowing it, and have made up my mind just to hide the rest away, and never say a word." "no, i wouldn't do that, paul. in the first place it isn't fair to karl." "fair? what can you mean? i wouldn't ever say a word to him, never!" "that's just it, but you would _think_ it always; and if he is innocent, why you see what a shame that would be. no, you ought to learn the truth, even though determined to keep your mouth shut afterward. in justice to karl, you _must_ know!" "i believe you are right, old fellow. and i'm going to be guided by what you say. come in with me, won't you?" pleaded jack. "yes," answered paul, promptly. "on condition that you take me up to your den, where we can talk without being disturbed." "you have an object in saying that. i believe you want to see for yourself if any more of my coins have disappeared?" declared the other. "i acknowledge the corn, for that is just what i wanted to learn, jack." "i suppose the sooner i take the bull by the horns, the quicker we can learn the truth; so come on in," and taking his chum by the arm jack led the way boldly up to the door of the stormways' house. they managed to pass upstairs to the third floor without attracting any attention, the family being gathered around a table in the living room, reading. no sooner had the lamp been lighted, after the door was closed, than paul stepped over to the table desk which he knew so well. just as jack had said, there was a little cedar box standing in plain view, and the coins it held attracted his eye. slowly and deliberately he proceeded to count them, while his chum awaited the result with abated breath, and his eyes turned in another direction. "well?" said jack, hoarsely, when he saw that the other had dropped all of the coins back, one by one. "you said there were fourteen left this morning, didn't you, jack?" "yes, and now?" "i find just eight here, that's all!" came the answer that caused the wretched brother of young karl stormways to shiver and sigh dismally. chapter iii the disappearing coins "just thirteen gone now," said jack, as he bent over to look for himself. "of course you know what they were, those that are missing?" suggested paul. "i have a list of the bunch somewhere; made it out one day just for fun. yes, i think i could tell them again; but i never would have the heart to accuse old doc. thomes of buying stolen coins; and the thief--never!" "i didn't mean that, jack; you mistook me. suppose i had that list, and rooting over all the little boxes he keeps his coins in for sale, found every one of the missing ones there?" "yes, and then what?" asked the other, greatly affected, though watching his chum's face eagerly, as though something seemed to tell him paul would find a way out of the difficulty, such was his faith in the other. "why, perhaps you might buy the whole lot back, for almost a song, and never say a word." a hand crept out and squeezed paul's warmly; and there were tears in the eyes of jack stormways as he made answer. "just like you, old fellow, to cheer me up like that. here, let me hunt up the list for you. but promise that you won't whisper one little hint to a living soul. oh! karl, how could you?" "hold on, don't judge him before you know. believe him innocent until you find proof otherwise. i guess you'll learn that one of the first things a scout has to do is to believe in his brothers and friends through thick and thin, until the proof has become positive, or the guilty one confesses. and another thing, jack, in case the worst comes true, it's up to us to make sure that such a miserable thing never happens again. we must save the one in error, save him through kindness and sympathy. how old is karl?" "a little over ten." "too young to join the troop then, for all boys have to be twelve or over, according to the rules, i was told. but they have younger fellows in the bunch over at aldine, i'm sure. one i saw strutting around in a uniform looked like a kid of eight or nine. never mind; i believe it'll all come out right yet. perhaps some servant may have taken them?" said paul, wishing to buoy up his chum's spirits. "we only have one, and she's been with us ever since i was born. no use thinking maggie would touch a single thing," declared jack, quickly, with a shake of his head. paul sauntered about the room for a few minutes. apparently he was glancing at the numerous college pennants and other things that were upon the walls; but in reality he found himself wrestling with the strange puzzle that was giving his chum so much concern. presently he stood by the window, which was partly open. "who owns the dempsey house now, jack?" he asked, indicating the building next door. "oh! it is still for sale," replied the other. "they don't want to rent it again, you know, and ever since that last party moved out of town and left things looking so bad, mr. dempsey has kept it closed up." "when he lived here, you and scissors used to be something of chums, didn't you?" paul went on. "well, yes," the other admitted, "when we were smaller. but ever since scissors started going with the slavin crowd i've cut him dead." "i wish i lived as close to you as this," paul observed. "why, we could nearly shake hands across the gap. i don't suppose scissors ever drops in to see you nowadays?" "i should say not," laughed jack; "why, we've been at swords points now for a year and more, and never even speak as we pass each other." "oh! well, of course then it would be silly to think of suspecting him," remarked paul as he sat down again. but nevertheless, many times his eyes seemed to turn toward that partly opened window, and then in the direction of the low desk where the box of coins stood. "scissors" dempsey had come by his nickname because of a peculiar trick he had of keeping his knees stiff when walking. long ago one boy had likened his long legs to a pair of scissors, and quick to take up a humorous name like this, his mates had called him nothing else in years. "well, it's a mighty funny thing where that bunch of old copper coins has gone to!" remarked jack, presently, unable, it seemed, to think of anything else just then. "i believe this den of yours is hardly ever locked," remarked paul, presently, "and all persons can come up here whenever they choose. i've even often found your dog carlo sleeping here. why, if any friend calls to see you, and wants to wait till you come home, he just meanders up here as he pleases, and amuses himself looking over your books and magazines. isn't that so, jack?" "sure. my mother says this is liberty hall, judging from the way all my chums go and come. but what's got you now? do you think some other chap may have fallen into the nasty habit of helping himself to my coins, either to swell out his own collection, or to sell them to doc. thomes?" "oh! hardly that, although it seems possible. but don't worry too much about it, jack. i'm sure we'll discover the truth sooner or later." "anyhow i'll have eight to hide away; part of a loaf is better than no bread," remarked the other, dejectedly. "oh! i wouldn't put them away, not just yet, anyhow, jack." "but, my goodness, perhaps i'll lose all of my coins if i leave them around like this any longer on my desk!" "that's so, but don't you see if you hide them, it shuts us off from ever learning who is taking them." "oh! i see. you mean to catch him at it some time; is that the idea, paul?" "nothing less. i'll drop in at the old dealer in curios to-morrow, and find out if he has any that are on this list. listen, there's somebody at the door!" "it's only carlo, scratching to get in. open the door, please, paul." as the other did so a large newfoundland dog stalked solemnly in, paid little heed to either of the occupants of the den, but snuggled down in a corner, where there was an old cushion, evidently placed there for his especial use. "my! he's getting fatter than ever," remarked paul, surveying the bulging sides of the shaggy canine, as he curled himself up as if to sleep. "i believe he is, the scamp. i see it when i put him through his paces with all the tricks i taught him. he's getting too logy, and has to be told three times before he'll do a blessed thing. but about this wretched matter, paul--you won't say anything to your folks, will you?" "not for the world. it's your secret, and i'd never leak a word without your permission. but i must be off now. leave things just as you always have done; and don't shut or lock the door here any more than before. i've got to do some studying over this boy scout affair when i get back. whitson loaned me some pamphlets, but i didn't have time to read them through." jack accompanied his friend down to the front door. here karl, having heard them descending the stairs, joined them; and so far as paul could see there was no change in the boy's manner. if he had done wrong he must be clever enough to hide the guilt that lay in his heart, and put on a bold face. "remember!" was all paul said as he squeezed jack's quivering hand, before jumping down the steps, boy fashion. it was enough to encourage the sorely distressed lad, for he had the greatest faith in paul morrison, the doctor's son, that any boy could ever place in a comrade; nor had the other ever failed to equal his expectations. "i really believe paul will do it," he was muttering to himself as he slowly went upstairs again to the den, with its decorations of college flags, and pictures of camping, canoeing, outdoor sports such as baseball and football struggles, and kindred things so dear to the heart of almost every growing lad; "yes, i believe he will if anybody can. but i wish he had let me hide the rest of them away. it seems like putting temptation in the way of a weak brother. but he told me i wasn't even to believe karl took the coins, and _i won't_!" nevertheless, jack stormways must have passed a miserable night; for the anxious eyes of his mother noticed his distressed looks when he came down to breakfast on the following morning. "you don't look well, son," she observed, as she passed her cool hand across his fevered brow; "i think you ought to step in and see doctor morrison some time this morning, and let him give you something." "all right, mother; but it's only a little headache," he protested, for like all boys he disliked the thought of being considered sick. her eyes turned solicitously toward him many times during the meal, for she saw that jack was unusually dull, and took little part in the conversation. but it seemed that karl made up for his brother's lack of energy, for he was more than ordinarily inclined to be merry, and told numerous jokes he had heard from his fellows in the boys' club he had joined. jack mentioned that they were about to organize a boy scout patrol; and very naturally his mother looked a bit serious at this news, until he explained some of the really excellent points connected with such an association; when her face cleared at once. "if that is what the movement means then the sooner a patrol is organized in stanhope the better. there are a lot of boys who would be vastly benefitted by such uplifting resolutions," she declared, with some show of enthusiasm. "yes, mother, you are right," said mr. stormways, just then. "things have been going from bad to worse in our town of late, and the fathers are beginning to wonder where it will end. only yesterday i met old peleg growdy. you remember the old fellow, for we stopped at his place when we were out riding, and had a drink at his well." "yes, and a most singular old man he was. i really couldn't say that i was much impressed with his looks or conversation," replied the lady, as she poured another cup of coffee for her husband. "all very true; but he minds his own business if let alone; and after all i find that he is a well educated man, up in most questions of the day. but the boys, or some of them at least, have for a long time considered old peleg a fit subject for practical jokes. they change the lines on his team, given half a chance, and annoy him in every way possible. really, i don't wonder he is bitter about it." "but you had something in mind, father, when you said that you met him?" mr. stormways looked at jack. "that is true, my son; and do you know, the first thought that came to me was one of pleasure to feel absolutely sure no boy of mine would disgrace himself in plaguing an old man who had never harmed him." jack felt a glow in the region of his heart at this show of confidence; and resolved that more than ever would he merit it; but somehow he could not help looking out of the tail of his eye toward karl, to find that the color had mounted to his forehead, and that he seemed embarrassed. was he thinking just then of the coins; or did he have some knowledge of the practical joke that had been played on old peleg growdy? "now, tell us what it was, alan," said mrs. stormways, encouragingly. "well, perhaps in one way it may have been looked upon as something humorous, but it annoyed the old man very much. last sunday he went out to let his pigs run loose in the lot, as is his habit. when he pulled the rope that opened the little door in the back of the pen, he was astonished to see the queerest lot of porkers dash away that human eyes had ever beheld." karl was snickering by now, showing that he must have some knowledge of what was to come. "no two pigs looked alike. the boys had crept into the pen in the night, with a lantern, and some pots of paint taken from mr. rabow's shop, and painted the whole drove in every color imaginable. one, he said, looked like the american flag. another had four legs of different hues; a third was striped yellow and green, and so it went. imagine the old man's amazement as he saw them kicking up their legs, and tearing around like mad; for the sun had reached the turpentine in the paint, and made it burn tremendously." karl gave a shout, and even mrs. stormways could not repress a smile, though she felt that it was wrong. "i heard about it from one of the boys, father; i don't want to tell his name, you see, because it might get him into a scrape," said karl, as he managed to get his breath again. jack breathed easier, since he knew now that his brother had not been concerned in the adventure; still, there was that other thing--but he had promised paul not to believe, or even suspect, anything so early in the game. "i admit that it does seem ludicrous; and no doubt if i had been there i must have been strongly tempted to laugh at the comical spectacle those six pigs must have presented. but it is the spirit of the thing that looks so bad. growdy never harmed a boy in his life, he says, and only wants to be let alone; but they went out of their way to play a malicious trick on the old man. it took him the whole of sunday to scrape that paint off the hides of his pigs; which i consider a pretty hard proposition. and i repeat what i said before, that i'm pleased to know a son of mine would not be guilty of so mean a trick." karl left the table just then, and his brother fancied that he looked a bit confused, as though his conscience were troubling him, but then jack hoped he might be mistaken. chapter iv the first scout leader paul had said that he would be away the greater part of the day, his father having asked him to go to the city on an important errand. consequently there was no opportunity for the two chums to confer upon any of the matters that were interesting then. but all the boys had agreed to meet at the house of nuthin' that evening, to plunge deeper into the subject of organizing at least one scout patrol in stanhope. as usual paul called for jack, and as the latter's parents knew what was on tap, there was no opposition shown to his going out. "has anything happened to-day?" whispered the visitor, as he was joined by jack in the hall. "yes, i was out a lot with the fellows, and doing some chores around; but i mustered up enough courage just before supper to go upstairs," replied the other, his voice giving plain warning as to what was to follow, for it showed the strain. "and counted the coins again, perhaps to find them short, eh, jack?" "well, you said there were eight, and now i can count only six. why, it's getting to be a regular clock-like piece of business. and after what father said this morning, too." "what did he say?" asked paul. "come along. i'll tell you while we're on our way," and jack gave a nervous look over his shoulder, as though afraid lest his brother pop out on them unawares. as they walked slowly along the road he spoke in the affectionate manner in which mr. stormways had declared his utmost faith in the honesty and integrity of his two boys. "but you're not sure that karl has anything to do with the disappearing coins. other boys may have been up there to-day?" suggested his friend, quickly. "i asked mother, and she said she didn't remember that any one had come to see me. no, the more i think about it the worse i feel. but i guess you didn't have any time to see old doc. thomes before you went to the city, did you?" "that's just what i did, dropped into his shop, told him i was going down to new york on business for dad, and asked if i could do anything for him." "oh! how bright of you, paul. and what did he say to that?" "it seemed to quite tickle the old chap. he said he had a little package he wanted to send in to a dealer on fourteenth street, and would be glad if i took it to him, instead of his sending it by express." "a package, paul; did he say what it contained?" demanded the other, almost holding his breath with sudden alarm. "yes, a lot of old coins he had been buying lately. now, hold your horses, jack, my boy. he hadn't made it up yet, and i helped him do it. there wasn't one of the same kind yours are. he bought the collection of chinese and japanese coins old captain crocker owned. his widow had no use for them, and needed the money." "oh, you gave me a scare, paul; but i'm glad you saw them, for i'd always imagine mine must have been in the lot; not that i care a bit for the old things now; but it was the thought, you know, the terrible suspicion." "yes, and while about it i managed to see every old coin doc. has in his shop, for he was pleased to let me root around. and jack, not a single one of your missing pieces has he got, depend on it." "oh! well," remarked jack, arousing himself, "let's try and forget my troubles for a while. unless i get it off my mind i'll lie awake again, and then your father, the doctor, will give me some medicine that tastes even worse than what he did to-day. did you get that manual you sent for, paul?" and the speaker resolutely shut his teeth hard together as if determined to keep his mind off the harassing subject. "yes, it's in my pocket, and seems to be full of meat, too. i haven't had much chance to soak it in, but what i did read interested me a whole lot," returned the doctor's son. "well, i thought of a friend i had over in manchester, and this afternoon i took my wheel and jumped down there, crossing by the bridge. just as i hoped, landy is a member of the troop there, and he gladly told me all he knew about the business. i'm more than ever tickled at the idea of our having a branch up here, to compete with the neighboring towns. he told me something more that we might consider, too." "what was that, jack?" "you remember mr. silas westervelt, the quaker of manchester?" "sure. i've often talked with him, and my father is their family doctor," replied paul, readily enough. "it seems that he's become interested in this scout movement, which he endorses through and through. the result is that he has offered a beautiful banner to the organization that can show the highest degree of efficiency, and the greatest number of merit marks by thanksgiving day. it's being made now, down in the city." "that counts us in, then, for we'll have plenty of time to get busy before the day of turkey rolls around, eh, jack?" "oh! we'll be in the contest all right, even if we are counted in the 'also ran' class. these other fellows have been camping this summer, and must be up in many of the things that count. but then, they haven't got paul morrison at the head as scout leader, and that means everything in our favor," declared jack, warmly. "please cut that out after this. it's true that i've always been deeply interested in many things connected with life in the woods; but you see that's only one part of a good scout's credit marks. in fact, there's hardly one thing in all the trades and professions that is omitted from the list. only he must _excel_ in all he undertakes. and soon we will have to find a young man over twenty-one who will act as our scout master." "hold up, there's bobolink hurrying to catch us; and he acts as if he might be the bearer of important news," remarked jack, who had heard a hail from the rear, and turned his head to see a flitting form. the other came up, panting heavily. "say, you fellows must have the seven league boots, the way you get over ground. and just after i've gone and made away with a monstrous supper, too," he managed to say, between gasps. "let me get my breath, and i've got something to tell you." "is it about ted slavin and his cronies?" asked paul, suspiciously. "hit it the first shot," returned bobolink; "who told you?" "why, i haven't heard a word; only i thought that if there was anything going on, ted would be apt to have a finger in the pie," returned the other, grimly. "well, he has, all right, as usual. anyhow his mouthpiece, ward kenwood, has, and it's the same thing. i was taking something in to the dominie at our church (my mother is at the head of a committee, you know) when he asked me if i was going to join the new boy scout patrol that was being organized in stanhope." "whew, but those fellows don't believe in letting the grass grow under their feet, do they? never thought a thing about it till they heard us talking matters over; and here they're getting all the credit for being first in the field," and jack shrugged his shoulders ruefully as he spoke. "didn't i say we'd have to get up early in the morning if we hoped to keep from taking their dust? no matter what else you can say about them, ted and his crowd are alive, and wide-awake fellows all the time," returned paul. "well, the minister was some surprised when i told him all about it. he said he was delighted, and i guess he meant it too. the more patrols the better for the community, he said. and he seemed to know all about the meaning of the thing, for he showed me several books along the subject, that he promised to lend us." "bully for him!" cried jack, with perhaps more energy than reverence; but had the genial old man heard the words he would have felt highly complimented, knowing that whoever succeeds in getting the approval of live, wide-awake boys must consider himself fortunate indeed. "there's nuthin's house," remarked bobolink, just then. "and tom bates going in, with the carberry twins. i hope we can enroll a dozen good fellows for a start. the rest will flock over after a bit, when they get to know what fine times we expect to have," remarked paul. they found that there were just a dozen present, counting a. cypher, who as host was much in evidence. besides tom bates, the new boys were philip towns, jud elderkin, joe clausin and andy flinn; the latter of irish parentage, but well liked, even though his widowed mother had to take in washing to provide food for the numerous mouths dependent on her. andy was a particularly bright boy, and many declared that he had a future before him, if only he kept away from the one curse of his father's life, rum. but as he hated the very word drink, there seemed to be little danger that he would be apt to follow in the footsteps of the brilliant man who had fallen so early in life, and left a family nearly destitute. "meeting please come to order," called paul, after he had been pushed into a chair to serve as temporary chairman. soon the boys began to go into the details of the projected troop, its meaning, what good it might be expected to accomplish, and everything connected with the boy scout organization. paul read page after page from the book he had brought, while the others, including the parents of a. cypher, listened, and applauded at times, as some particularly fine point happened to strike them. "that ought to do for the present," said paul, finally, as he closed the book and beamed upon his mates; "and now, what do you think, fellows?" "i'm just wild to get started, and more so than ever after hearing all about the hundreds of fine things scouts can do. i'm a crank on making fires, and i guess i'd qualify right easy for the championship in that tournament!" exclaimed william carberry, his face aglow. "yes, and i remember the time he nearly burned our house down, trying to start a blaze without a match. he got the fire all right; but there was a lively time around there, until the bucket brigade arrived, and slushed things down. oh! you can believe william; he's some on the fire racket," remarked the other twin, at which there was a roar from those present. "i move that we write out just what we intend to do, and that all the fellows in the room sign it as charter members. then we'll try to double our dozen by a week, and rush things along. we already have enough for the first patrol and half a second. if we expect to compete with those other troops in the struggle for supremacy we've got to be awake and doing." "you never said truer words, paul. what sort of a binding agreement had we ought to get up?" asked bobolink, pretending that it was tom bates who spoke; for really the boy had a wonderful gift of ventriloquism, and often amused himself, and his friends as well, by sending his voice into strange places, to the wonder of those who were not aware of his tricks. "i thought that over, and wrote out what i believed would cover the ground. if you listen now, i'll read it to you," returned the chairman. "hear! hear ye! all keep silent while our honored chairman reads the document to which we expect to subscribe our names and seals!" called william, pompously. what paul had written was simply that those whose names were found below had united themselves together with the idea of forming a troop that could be connected with the regular boys scout organization as incorporated. then every boy present wrote his name beneath the agreement, after which they went into executive session, the parents of a. cypher being kindly but firmly requested to retire from the room, while the election of officers proceeded, and other necessary steps were taken to perfect the first patrol. so the first patrol of stanhope troop was organized, and consisted of the eight originators of the scheme. it was decided to call this the red fox patrol. as fast as others were arranged for they could take on such names as gray fox, white fox and even black fox. later on they hoped to secure a scout master, but just now with paul and wallace brimming over with woods' lore, the lack of such an officer would not bother them. the meeting ended in paul being placed in the honored position of scout leader, with the second position being thrust on jack stormways, though he declared that wallace carberry was far better qualified to fill it than he ever could be. but paul was satisfied to have it so. jack was his favorite chum; and he would be thrown much in his company. besides, the desire to study up the rules, and perfect himself in all that an assistant scout master should know, might for a time at least take jack's thoughts away from the subject of his trouble at home. before the boys left they were summoned to the dining room, where refreshments were placed before them; and when the meeting did finally break up every fellow felt deep down in his heart that an important step had been taken toward raising the standard of living among the rising generation of stanhope. finally, as the hour had grown fairly late it was suggested that they leave in a body, since all military organizations did this. "and," continued the one who had put this idea forward, "while we have nothing to do with the army itself, we expect to be governed by certain military rules. what say, fellows?" "fall in! fall in!" out of the door they marched, and down the steps, two by two; bluff shipley, who was paired with nuthin', being the lone straggler in the rear, since his mate remained at home. if he experienced the slightest sense of dejection at being compelled to walk without a side partner, it was of very brief duration. outside it was very dark, and this condition seemed more or less heightened by the fact that the eyes of the young scouts had become accustomed to the glow of the rooms they had just left. consequently there was more or less chance of some one tripping on the steps, and pulling others down with him. "'ware the fourth step; it's shaky and may throw you, boys!" sang out nuthin'. hardly had he spoken than the first pair executed a beautiful forward bow, and went down in a heap from the lower step. "look out there! a rope!" paul had just barely time to give utterance to this warning when the next pair found the obstruction for themselves, and came plunging down on top of those already landed. two more were close behind, so nearly upon the heels of the second pair that it was really impossible for them to avoid following in their wake. thus there were by this time six struggling figures at the foot of the steps, while the balance of the patrol huddled just above, looking with amazement at the dimly seen spectacle. from somewhere near by, possibly the shelter of some bushes, came gurgles of boyish laughter, and jeering words in assumed voices. no need to tell paul and his friends to whose kind attention they owed this unexpected downfall. ted slavin and his backers had not been idle while the new patrol was being organized in the home of nuthin'. they had fastened a stout rope across the lower step, and succeeded in tripping half of their rivals. paul managed to scramble to his feet, hardly knowing whether to laugh, or get angry at this practical joke on the part of the opposition. chapter v checking a coward "it's that slavin crowd!" exclaimed jack, as he gained his feet. "let's capture some of them, then!" shouted william, always ready for battle, as was also bluff shipley, whose hands were never bothered with impediments as was his speech. a rush was made for the bushes, and retreating footsteps announced the hasty departure of the enemy. none of the new scouts seemed to care about following very far. they knew ted of old, and feared lest they be drawn into a trap, so that their last condition would be really worse than the first. "no damage done, after all," remarked paul, as he brushed off his clothes; while the others gathered around, and nuthin' came down to secure the treacherous rope. "barked my shins some, now; and sooner or later i've just got to take it out of that crowd!" muttered william, limping around, and shaking his head. "better do it soon, then," observed bobolink, "for after you've taken the oath of allegiance to the scouts you dassent tackle a feller without losing marks." "h'm! is that so?" grunted the injured member, regretfully; for to be deprived of the boon of fighting would be taking some of the joys of life away from the pugnacious carberry twin. "fall in again, boys!" said paul, cheerily. "not the same way, i hope, captain!" ventured bobolink; at which there was a laugh, and the incident seemed closed. the boys had no doubt but that their rivals must have been observing much that went on in the lighted rooms, possibly also trying to catch what was being said. "what of it?" demanded paul, when some one suggested this; "if they heard what i read out of that manual so much the better. let them subscribe to those rules, and life will be worth living alongside ted and his cronies." "but you see they just can't!" declared bobolink, quickly. "which is to say they won't. all right. once we get out troop formed, public sentiment will be on our side. if they try to worry us the good people of stanhope, backed by the women's club, will see to it that the nuisance is stopped. isn't that so, paul?" remarked jack, with conviction in his voice. "them's my sentiments, as some character in fiction used to remark. we can afford to laugh at all these little plans to annoy us. of course, if they go too far, why we may have to turn and do something ourselves," said paul, seriously. "bully! hasten the time!" cried william, ceasing to limp for the moment in his new delight. "oh! but paul doesn't mean a regular give and take fight. if we pitch in at all, i'm afraid it'll have to be doling out punishment in the way the good dad does when he plies the stick and says it hurts him worse than it does the bad kid," declared bobolink; at which there was a roar. on the following day there was more or less skirmishing about town by various eager lads, seeking recruits for the rival troops. paul was as busy as a beaver, and at several points conferred with some of his followers. he had sent for more manuals, besides a price list of uniforms, and other equipments necessary to the complete organization of the fox patrol and stanhope troop no. . leading citizens began to take an interest in the movement, as they grew to understand its true significance. stanhope seemed to be fairly sizzling with a new and novel energy. even the meeting of the women's club that afternoon was given up partly to a discussion of the merits of the boy scout wave then sweeping over the land; and ladies who had been decidedly averse to such a thing found their eyes opened to its beneficial accompaniments. as was to be expected, the recruiting was not confined to paul and his chums. ted slavin and ward kenwood were just as vigorously employed; and several times in the course of the day the rivals ran across each other while engaged in thus drumming up new subjects for initiation. on such occasions there was apt to be something in the way of verbal fireworks passing between the opposing scouts. ted slavin seldom knew how to bridle that tongue of his; and ward kenwood seemed to be in a nasty humor himself. to tell the truth there had long been a sort of rivalry between paul and ward over the smiles of pretty arline blair; and latterly the high school girl seemed to be giving young morrison more than his share of her company. that afternoon about four o'clock, as paul and two of his chums were passing along one of the side streets of the town they came upon a scene that caused a sudden halt. the blustering voice of ted slavin was what first drew their attention; and it seemed to come from around the next corner. then followed a quavering voice, pleading in its tone. paul looked at his friends, and his brow darkened. "it's old mother martha, the market woman who sells things in her little stall around here. and some of those mean skunks are plaguing her, like they often do, she tells me, stealing her apples, and laughing at her, because she's lame with the rheumatism, and can't chase after 'em!" said william, who happened to be one of the trio brought to a halt so suddenly. "come on, then; we can't stand that!" exclaimed paul. the boys hurriedly turned the corner, to find that what william had suggested seemed to be the actual truth. ted and a follower were hovering near the poor old woman. the fact that ted was contentedly munching a red apple told that he had already made his hawk-like descent on the stand of the market woman, and was now seeking to distract her attention so that his companion might also swoop down to seize a prize, when they would go off, laughing uproarously, as though they considered it a huge joke. paul was on the bully in a flash, and almost before ted knew of his presence he had torn the apple from his grasp and hurled it far away. "get out of this, you coward!" exclaimed the scout leader of the new patrol, as he gave ted slavin a push; "i'm going to speak to the chief of police about the way you rob this good woman, and see if he won't stop it. you ought to be ashamed of yourselves, both of you!" william and bluff were for jumping at the two offenders, and giving them a lesson then and there; but with both arms paul held his fire-eaters back. "let 'em come on, if they want to mix up with us. we can take care of two, and think it a picnic. p'raps even three wouldn't be too much, if so be you want to try it on, paul morrison. huh! there comes another bunch of your sissies. seven against two might make it too interestin', so we'd better skip out, scissors. but you just wait, that's all. i don't forget you laid a hand on me; and some time i'm going to take it out." "oh! suit yourself, ted," answered the other, promptly. "i'm ready to have a go at you when you're ready, if you force me to the wall. i'm not a fighter, but when i see a couple of rowdies treating a poor old woman like you did, it makes me see red." with derisive jeers the pair faded away as several boys came running to the spot, having seen the group, and guessing from the presence of the two rival leaders that there must be something doing. their indignation was boundless when they learned what new meanness the coming of paul and his two chums had interrupted. it required considerable persuasion on the part of the scout leader to prevent an immediate chase of the culprits. "let them go this time," said paul, impressively; "but i'm going to see what can be done to put a stop to this rowdyism. it gives the boys of stanhope a bad name all around. i told ted i'd speak to chief billings about it." "you won't get any too much satisfaction there," remarked wise nuthin'; "because, you see the chief owes his position to the political influence of mr. kenwood; and as ward runs with ted he won't dare do anything for fear of offending the head of the party. we've just _got_ to find a way ourselves to change things." "well, i'll ask my father about it. perhaps he can suggest a plan. he used to be a boy himself once, and never forgets it either," was paul's conclusion, as they each bought an apple from the old woman to make her forget her recent trouble, and then walked away, followed by her earnest thanks. "say, but time just crawls along," observed william, dolefully; "because, you see, i'm dying to get to work and win some of them merits you told us about. just set me the stunt of making water boil over a fire i have to kindle, and i'll do it in three shakes of a lamb's tail. the rest of you will be left hull down. and then there's lots of other jobs that look good to me. let's get a move on, and start the ball rolling. when's the next meeting, paul?" "to-night, and once more at the barn where we were first. this time i figure on having nearly twenty present, and that will make things interesting." "same hour as before--eight o'clock?" asked bobolink. "yes. and if any of you feel that you are qualified to take the examination for the first degree, so as to become real tenderfeet in the scouts, why, i'll be in trim to put you through your sprouts," announced the leader. "that hits me," declared william; "for i've been studying to beat the band, and believe i'll pass muster with flying colors. me for the tenderfoot class!" "and i've just used up a whole ball of twine tying all those measly knots," declared nuthin'; after which his face brightened when he added: "but i can do every one just like an old jack tar. my dad was once a sailor you know, and that's where i've got the bulge on the rest of you. so-long, boys; i'm going home to try again." chapter vi a strange suggestion "who goes there?" "a scout of the red fox patrol!" "advance scout, and give the countersign!" a figure came shuffling forward, bent over, and whispered a word in the ear of the sentinel at the door of the old tobacco barn. "correct! pass in, scout!" said the one on guard, solemnly. but william chose to loiter by the door, and watch the gathering of the clans, for the boys arrived rapidly after that, usually in pairs. "where's the other twin?" asked paul, seeing william alone. "unavoidably detained, captain. may be on deck later. here comes another bunch," and william stepped aside to allow the sentry to halt andy flinn, who had arrived in company with jud elderkin, the latter as tall and thin as the former was fat and pudgy. "pass along, gentlemen," sang out william, after the pair had successfully stood the test; "the animals went in two by two; the elephant and the kangaroo!" and as usual there was a laugh at this sally, which applied so aptly to the couple just entering. "all here now, paul," announced jack stormways, counting noses in the light of half a dozen lanterns provided by mr. shipley, the owner of the barn. for an hour routine business was transacted. there were just twenty-one names on the roll now, and all present saving two, wallace carberry and another. it was decided to organize two patrols at once, the first to be under the charge of paul as scout leader, while jud elderkin took the gray fox crowd. the more the assembled lads learned concerning the duties and sports of the boy scouts, the greater became their enthusiasm. as the evening progressed they were fairly bubbling over with excitement, and it began to look as though the success of the new movement were already assured. but paul knew that it must be a constant fight between the natural rough-and-ready, give-and-take spirit which almost every boy inherits from his ancestors, and the new idea that would have him a hero without being a bully or a brawler. and he was not surprised when, later on, just before they thought of breaking up the meeting, william got the floor on the question of a personal privilege, and threw a bombshell into the camp. "i'm going to ask a favor of you fellows," he said; "and you can help me break even with that old rooster as well as have some fun. d'ye think you can stand the racket?" the others crowded around, for they knew very well that when william had anything to propose it usually meant some frolic. but paul noticed to his surprise that the joker seemed worked up far more than he could ever remember seeing him before, and he scented trouble ahead. "who is it this time, william? tell us about it, old fellow! of course we're bound to stand by you through thick and thin. that's one of the first duties of a scout, you know. speak up, and give us a tip!" it was jud elderkin who said this; but that he voiced the sentiments of pretty much the entire group could be judged from the chorus of exclamations that greeted his aggressive speech. "it's that old grumpy miser, peleg growdy," said the orator, waving his hands to emphasize his words. "he never had any use for boys, you know, and often says he wonders why the pests were ever born. i don't remember doing him any mean thing in my life, but he's got it in for the whole creation of boys, i expect." "what did he do to you?" "yes, tell us, william. we'll stand by you, never fear." "he needs a good lesson, the old skinflint. tell us what happened!" william grinned, for he saw that he had already captured the hearts of his comrades, and had small need to fear they would let him seek satisfaction alone. jack stormways was as deeply interested in the outcome as his chum paul. he remembered all his father had said at the breakfast table on the preceding day, in connection with this same man growdy. william was proceeding to thrill his hearers some more. to hear him talk one might imagine his father was a celebrated lawyer instead of the town blacksmith, for william had a smooth tongue. "i guess all of you know by this time what some fellers did to growdy's pigs last saturday night, painting 'em to beat the band? it's the talk of the town, and lots of folks says that it serves the old crusty just right. but i was tucked away in my little bed alongside t'other twin that night, as snug as two bugs in a rug; and consequently had my little _alibi_ ready to prove i wasn't in the bunch that paid him that sly visit." "oh! we all know who did it, never fear!" cried joe clausin. "he spells his name t-e-d!" echoed bobolink. "all right. because some bad boys played that joke on old growdy he seems to have it in for every mother's son in stanhope. i met him on the road this afternoon when i was out with a light wagon after some feed. he was on the way to town to deliver a big load of truck. everybody's entitled to half the road; ain't that the law, fellers?" "sure it is, william; but that mean man wouldn't budge for you, hey?" said jud. "not for an inch. just hauled up there taking two-thirds of the road, and started to light his pipe. i was in a hurry to get along, and thought i could just squeeze by; but i made a mistake, and my wagon got upset in the ditch. he went on, grinning at my trouble, and never offering to raise a hand to help me out." exclamations of indignation arose on all sides. "he needs another lesson, boys!" "say the word, william, and we're with you. guess i might think up a few ways for you to get even with the old skinflint!" paul saw that they were rapidly being swayed by their feelings of natural resentment. he had no particular reason for liking peleg growdy any more than the balance of the group; but the lesson of returning good for evil had taken full possession of his soul. once he would have been only too ready to join in with his chums in redressing what seemed to be a positive wrong; but somehow it was different now. before he could speak, however, jack had elbowed his way into the midst of the excited lads, his face full of determination. "wait a bit, you fellows, before you decide what you're going to do. i want to tell you something that ought to interest you." "all right, jack; speak up. any objection to joining in with us and having a little fun while we help a brother even up his score?" demanded a voice. then jack repeated as well as he was able the conversation that had taken place at the breakfast table in his house. he went even further than this, for it happened that he knew something about the old man's past. "peleg growdy is a crabbed old chap, i admit; but perhaps you wouldn't blame him so much if you knew the trouble he has had." "what was that?" asked one boy. "his wife and two children were burned to death when his house caught fire many years ago. another child grew up to be a man, and committed some crime that made him run away. his last one, a daughter, was killed in a railroad wreck. ever since then the old man shuns people, and just works as if he never wanted to know a living soul." "that's tough, for a fact!" admitted one boy, slowly. "but it don't excuse him for hating all boys. what business did he have sitting there and taking two-thirds of the road, to let william upset in the ditch trying to pass him?" demanded jud, still rebelling. "oh! well, that's a rule of the road that isn't always carried out. for instance, the loaded vehicle is generally given _more_ than its half; and william admits he was going light, while the old man carried a heavy load," said jack. "yes, that's so," grunted william, unable to hold out against such logic. "and perhaps, if he told the actual truth, william would admit that there was room enough for him to pass, if he had been a little more careful!" "sure; but i was in a hurry, you understand; and didn't see that the edge of the ditch was crumbly. but he laughed, i tell you, and that riled me!" "and now you want to bring a dozen and more of your friends down on his place to commit some prank that will make him dislike boys more than ever. it's all wrong, i tell you, fellows, and for one i refuse to lend a hand," and jack folded his arms as though his mind were made up once and for all. paul saw that they were very near a division that might be fatal to the future good of the cause. he wondered whether he could swing the crowd to the other side, like the pendulum of a clock. it would take considerable eloquence, as well as all his powers of leadership to accomplish it; but the crisis was upon them, and he would be false to himself if he did not meet the issue squarely. "will you listen to me, fellows?" he said, quietly, stepping forward to occupy the place just vacated by jack, and managing to whisper to the other in passing: "back me up for all you're worth, and we may win the day!" "of course we will! you're the scout leader, paul, and when you hatch up any game it's sure to be worth the powder. let her go!" came from jud, who seemed to be a sort of ringleader in this little rebellion in the camp. "all right, boys. i'm going to make a proposition that will take your breath away; but i have strong hopes that after what you've listened to from that manual to-night, you'll be ready to back me up," continued paul. "we believe in you, paul. you never fooled us yet; and you never will. what's your queer game?" asked bobolink, ready to swing over already, such was his faith in the one they had elected their leader. the boys crowded around paul, more than eager to hear what his proposal might turn out to be; for novelty always appeals to the average lad. "all of you know that old peleg keeps his dooryard in a horrible condition. why, my mother says she doesn't believe it has been cleaned up in years; and he hardly ever takes the trouble to even put his wagons and that old buggy in the shed. it's a disgrace to the town to have him so near. i've heard that the women talked about asking him to do something to make it look cleaner." "he's a stubborn old man, and can't be driven, my dad says," remarked jud. "now here's what i'm going to propose. you know he's pretty deaf, and can't hear much that goes on. he used to have a savage dog, but it died a couple of weeks ago, and since then he's been trying to get another, but so far without success. get that?" "yes, but go on, paul," demanded bobolink. "let's go over to peleg's in a body," continued the scout leader; "and while he sleeps clean up that dooryard of his so that in the morning he'll just rub his eyes and begin to think the fairies have paid him a visit in the night. and when he learns who did it perhaps he may feel something like you did, william. don't you see, _it'll be rubbing it in good and hard_!" paul waited to see how his suggestion took. the boys stared at each other in amazement. it is doubtful whether a parcel of wide-awake lads ever before had such a novel proposition made to them. and perhaps it was the sensational character of the appeal that stirred them more than any desire to return good for evil. "count me in that job, paul," said jack positively. he had timed his interruption with exceeding cleverness. boys are like sheep, and given a bell wether they will follow blindly where the leader goes. "me too!" cried bobolink, quickly. "ditto! i'm for the game just as paul says!" exclaimed nuthin'. and every one in the crowd followed suit, laughing at the idea of their turning the tables on the old farmer in such an unheard-of fashion; though several doubtless secretly scoffed at the project, and only agreed because it seemed to be a necessary evil if they wanted to become boy scouts. chapter vii the trap that peleg set "there's growdy's shack and barns!" "don't seem to be anything stirring, fellows!" "look out for a trap. once bitten, twice shy. perhaps he's just laying for some fellers to come along, and play some more paintin' job trick. i heard that he said he would find some way to stop the nuisance!" this from "red" betts, who was known as a cautious chap, and able to vanish at the first sign of danger better than any fellow in town. "suppose we hold up here, and send out scouts to see how the land lies? that's the military way of doing it," ventured bobolink. "a good idea, and i appoint you, bobolink, with jud elderkin, to carry out the little business," remarked paul, in a low tone. "trot along, you chaps; the rest of us will bunk right here alongside the road and wait till you report," and suiting the action to his words william dropped in his tracks. a brief time elapsed, and then the pair of spies returned. "not a single light in the house, and the coast clear, fellows; so come on!" and jud waved his long arms as though enjoying his brief assumption of authority to the limit. it would have doubtless astonished the old farmer had he chanced upon the scene just then. a young moon hung in the western sky, and while giving little light, still the figures of some score of stooping boys might have been discovered, advancing in broken formation along the road. the leader silently opened the gate leading to the dooryard of growdy's place. his barns stood near the house, so that the confusion which reigned was all the more noticeable. its equal had never been known around stanhope; and could only be expected in the case of a place where a woman's influence for cleanliness had been totally absent during the past ten years. over to the stable went some of the boys. paul had talked it all over with them as they walked, and each knew what part he was to take in the general clean-up. to some of them it was simply another form of a lark. boys are queer creatures even to those who imagine they know them well. they must be doing something all the time. once get them started in the right direction, and they will labor just as sturdily to bring about a good object, as under other conditions, they would work to play a joke. it all depends on how they begin. and thanks to the sagacity of paul, he had succeeded in interesting them in the novelty of his proposal. some secured rakes and hoes, and began to systematically gather up the scattered loose material that covered the place, ankle deep. others pushed the wagons, and the old dilapidated buggy, back into the shed in systematic order. they worked like busy bees, chuckling, whispering and evidently getting considerable fun out of the strange frolic. paul himself went over the job to make sure that it had been thoroughly done, and that nothing remained uncared for. up to this time fortune had favored the busy workers, since no sound had come about to betray their presence. "how is it, paul?" asked jack stormways, as he ran across the other in making his rounds. "about at the end. the boys are putting the old tools back where they found them; and then we can go home. it's the best half hour's work any of us have done for a good while, i tell you, jack." "some of the boys don't seem to think it quite so funny now as when they started in. they say they can't see where the pay is going to come in, and have begun to grumble," whispered the other. "perhaps it never will, and again, who knows what might come out of this? anyhow, the ladies will be glad to see this dirty place clean for once. some others i know may take a notion that if old growdy can clean up they ought to. listen! what in the world is that?" a rattling of tin pans came to their ears, as if one of the boys in prowling around had accidently upset a bench on which a milk bucket and some flat tinware had been airing. "that settles it! he'll hear all that row and be out on us in a jiffy!" said paul, annoyed because the affair had not gone off according to schedule. "look! there's a light sprung up inside the house. he's getting his trousers on, all right, and the sooner we skip out the better!" declared jack. the boys now came running from every direction, while sounds from within the nearby farmhouse told that old peleg must be switching on his heavy boots. so paul, knowing that the only thing left now was a hasty flight, gave the signal arranged for. it meant every fellow for himself until they had put a reasonable distance between themselves and the seat of danger. then they could meet at a given place, and go home, laughing over the whole affair, and wondering what peleg would think when he saw what a miraculous transformation had taken place while he slept. paul happened to be the very last to run away. instead of passing out by way of the gate as most of the others did, paul started to pass over the fence at an inviting point, where two of the bars seemed to be down, and he could gain the adjoining woodlot, from which he might reach the road at his pleasure. but alas! the best of plans often go amiss. and that gap that yawned in the fence proved a delusion and a snare. hardly had paul made the jump over the two lower bars than he found himself suddenly jerked down, and his head came with a crash on the ground, causing him to see a myriad of stars. nor was this all. an unknown power at the same time seemed to lift his lower extremities up in the air at least two feet, so that he appeared to be trying to swim on dry land. for a moment he was puzzled to account for this remarkable happening; but as his head cleared a bit, and the stars ceased to shoot before his mental vision, he began to get an idea as to what had happened. apparently the fellows who had painted the farmer's pigs on the other night must have entered his place from the woods, and through this gap in the fence. old peleg had remembered, and anticipating another invasion sooner or later, he had succeeded in arranging some sort of ingenious trap on the spot. in jumping paul had set off the trigger, with the consequence that a noose had instantly tightened around his ankles, and a hogshead partly filled with stones, starting to roll down the slope, had drawn his legs upward. well, at any rate there he was, clinging to the grass, and with an unseen force pulling at his elevated feet, so that he was helpless to assist himself. it was very funny, no doubt, but paul hardly felt like laughing, just then. he tried to wriggle around so as to get at the loop, in the hope that he might loosen the same; but all his efforts were wasted. old peleg had builded better than he expected when he set that trap in which to catch his tormentors. he was coming now to see the result of his cunning. no doubt he had heard the tremendous rattle as the bulging barrel of stones started to roll down the slope after being liberated; for even a deaf man could hardly have missed that racket. lantern in hand he was even now hobbling along, chuckling in anticipation of what he would find in his trap. closer came the limping farmer. paul saw now that he held a vicious black whip in his right hand, while gripping a lighted lantern in the other. laughter in the distance told that the boys had all taken themselves off. they could not suspect what a dire calamity had befallen their leader, or a rescue party must have certainly been formed. another minute and peleg had arrived at the fence, and bending over held the lantern so that its light fell upon the figure of his captive. "gut ye, have i? mebbe ye'll try to paint some critters of mine agin, an' mebbe ye won't!" said the farmer, as he raised the ugly black whip which he held, with the evident intention of bringing it down good and hard on the helpless boy. chapter viii turning the tables "wait, mr. growdy!" paul hastened to exclaim. the old man laughed harshly as he flourished the whip. perhaps he had never struck a boy before in all his life, and hardly knew how to begin; but his temper was plainly disturbed, and he meant to make a start. "what should i wait fur, when i cort ye in the very act? paint my critters red, white an' blue, will ye? p'raps ye wanted to pull all the feathers out o' my flock o' chickens this time, an' think it funny. sarve ye right if i gi'e ye a dozen stripes!" "mr. growdy, i did you a favor once!" said the prisoner of the trap, wishing to keep the old man as long as possible from starting operations. "say ye so? wall, this wipes it out then. who air ye, anyway?" the farmer bent lower, and thrust his lantern so that its light would fall upon the face of the boy. immediately he uttered a grunt, for it was plain that he had recognized his captive. "so, it's ye, is it, paul morrison? this is some surprise, seein' as ye're the last boy i'd expect to be up ter sech meanness. what d'ye think yer father'll say w'en he hears 'bout this?" "i guess he'll laugh, and say it was about the cutest trick ever played on you, mr. growdy," came the immediate answer; "but please get me down from this. perhaps the blood will all run to my head. tie my hands if you want, and fix it so i can't run away; but i couldn't stand this long." "so ye think yer father'd larf, do ye? i never wud 'a' b'lieved doctor morrison was the kind o' man to encourage practical jokes on anybody," grumbled the old man, plainly at a loss to understand what was meant. "well, he isn't, and i'd be sorry to have him know i was guilty of such a thing. but you're barking up the wrong tree, mr. growdy, i give you my word we none of us had any trick in mind when we came here to-night." "then what took you in my dooryard here; for i heard a pack runnin' away when i kim out of the house? tell me that, paul," insisted the farmer; but the hand that held that cruel looking whip had fallen to his side, which was a good sign. "i'll be only too glad to do so if you let me up. tie my hands, my legs too if you want, sir; but i'm getting dizzy from having my head below my heels." peleg stooped still closer. he again held the lantern down so that he could look into the face of his prisoner; after which he did something that paul had hardly expected--bent over, seized the rope connected with the laden hogshead, and pulling hard succeeded in casting the loop that had just encircled paul's ankles, over a post of the fence. "get up, paul!" he said, grimly, yet with a flicker of curiosity in his wrinkled face; as though a dim suspicion that there might be something out of the ordinary back of this, had begun to take possession of his mind. paul regained his feet, a little wobbly to be sure, for he had experienced a bad fall, and his head felt rather tender where it had come in contact with the hard ground. "thank you, mr. growdy. and now i'm going to tell you something. perhaps you will find it hard to believe me, and again you may not just appreciate our way of taking matters in our own hands, when the request of the women of stanhope didn't have any effect. look around your dooryard, mr. growdy. do you see anything changed here?" the farmer held up the lantern, and what he saw caused him to utter an exclamation. "ev'ry one o' 'em gone, by hokey! if so be ye've smashed all my rigs, paul morison, i'll have the law on ye, as sure as my name's peleg growdy!" he roared, aghast at what he deemed a serious discovery. "come with me, mr. growdy. notice as you go that this place doesn't look much like a pigpen now. in fact, i calculate it's as clean as any dooryard around stanhope. even the ladies can drive past now without being shocked. and mr. growdy, if you will take the trouble, sir, to look under that wagon shed, you'll see every one of your vehicles just where they should be when not in use!" the old man stared, as well he might. "by gum!" paul heard him mutter; and the words seemed to express the situation so well that the boy could hardly keep from laughing outright. finally the puzzled farmer turned and looked at the lad who stood there beside him. easily might paul have made his escape at any time now; but that was really the last thing he thought of doing. he would much rather remain and see the bewilderment of peleg growdy reach its conclusion. "look here, paul, what's this hull thing mean?" finally demanded the farmer. and paul, remembering the fact that the old man was hard of hearing, raised his voice as he thought fit when making reply. "do you want me to tell you the whole thing, sir?" "i sartin do, every word. blest if i kin make head or tail out o' it. reckons as how them leetle fairy twins ye read about must 'a' ben workin' wile i slept; er else i'm dreamin' things that caint be true." "listen, mr. growdy," paul went on. "perhaps you may not know that we have started a troop of the boy scouts here in stanhope. some twenty of us have joined, and later on we hope to get uniforms, and other things needed, when we have earned the money to buy them. those boys you heard running away were my friends and comrades, every one going to be a true scout." "soldier bummers then, out on a raid, and ready to kerry off everything they kin lay hands on," grumbled the old man, still unable to grasp the true condition of affairs. "at a meeting to-night in mr. shipley's barn we made further progress looking to perfecting our organization. but boys will be boys, you know; and one of our number asked the rest to help him get even with you, because you forced him into the ditch this afternoon, upsetting his wagon." old growdy moved uneasily. "i was real sorry to see william do that. if he'd only waited till i lighted my pipe i 'spected to pull out a leetle more, so's to let him git by; but he was that impatient he must push on," he said. "just as i thought. well, mr. growdy, one of the rules of the scouts is that a member must never return an evil deed by another of the same kind. i proposed that we try to make you change your mind about detesting all boys. so we came here, not to paint your pigs as some other fellows did, i'm told; not to let your stock loose, or run off with your wagons; but to clean up your dooryard, and give you the greatest surprise of your life when you came out in the morning!" "sho! now. that takes the cake!" "when one of my chums upset that bench by accident, and the pans fell with a racket, of course it gave the whole thing away, and we started to run; but unfortunately i happened to drop into your nice little trap, and you found me upside down. that is all, mr. growdy. do you want to whip me now, or take me in to the lockup, which?" peleg growdy found himself strangely thrilled as he looked into that frank, smiling face of paul morrison. for almost a full minute they stood thus. then peleg spoke. "reckon as how them comrades o' yers must 'a' gut a long start by now, paul. s'pose ye see if ye kin ketch up with 'em, son." that was all, but as paul hurried off he was conscious of a strange feeling deep down in his breast; and he felt sure that after all it had paid. peleg growdy at least had met with the surprise of his life. after this possibly his ideas of juvenile depravity might undergo a violent change; for such positive natures as his usually swing from one extreme to the other, just like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. paul did not catch up with his fleeing comrades, for they had secured too good a start. when he reached the rendezvous, however, he found them there, one and all, and wondering what could have happened to detain him. loud were the expressions of astonishment as he calmly announced that having been caught in a trap, he had held a face to face talk with peleg growdy himself; when he managed to relate the whole surprising adventure the boys were stunned at the possible consequences of their little prank. those who had considered it only in the light of a joke began to see that paul had something deeper in mind when he proposed such a thing. all the way home paul was kept busy repeating some of the things he had said to the irate farmer. it gave those lads something to ponder over when by themselves. possibly they had never before realized what a powerful lever for good such a method of returning a grudge may become. paul himself was delighted. even if nothing more came of it he could look back to the little adventure with satisfaction such as ted slavin and his cronies might never feel with regard to their prank. and the next morning paul was not at all ashamed to relate the entire circumstance at the breakfast table. he felt amply repaid when he saw the look of pride upon his mother's face, as she turned her eyes, filled with unshed tears, upon him and said gently: "i am glad you did it, paul. i know the history of poor peleg growdy; and surely he has had enough of trouble during his life to make him different from the rest of his kind. the milk of human kindness has perhaps been dried up in his breast; yet who knows, my boy, but that you may have set him to thinking by that one little act of yours. i shall never fear for you, paul, whatever betides." his father, the doctor, was a man of few words; but that morning when he was going off on his round of visits he did an unusual thing--took paul's hand, and gave it an affectionate squeeze, while the look that accompanied the action needed no further explanation. and paul was many times satisfied. that day and others saw a growing buzz of excitement in the town of stanhope. it seemed as though nearly every boy over the age of twelve, yes and even under, might be filled with a burning zeal to join the new troops that were being started under two different scout leaders. ward kenwood had entered heart and soul into the work, which seemed to appeal to him; but there were those who secretly believed he was more concerned about opposing his rival, paul morrison, than in building up a second troop of scouts that would be a credit to the place. ted slavin, of course, worked hand in glove with his friend, ward. if money counted for anything they had no reason to complain; for inside of a week there blossomed out numerous boys clad in the new khaki uniforms that distinguish the boy scouts everywhere. some of paul's friends felt grieved because they had failed to get their equipments as soon as the others; but nothing could disturb the scout leader. "you'll see that they are bound to meet up with a snag when they apply for admission to the real organization. they can't subscribe to many of the rules. then again you know that the real scout scorns to receive his uniform as a gift. everything he owns must be earned. but most of us are nearly ready to send for suits. wait a little longer. the race is not always to the swift." in this fashion then did wise paul bring peace to the troubled hearts of those anxious ones. never a member of the new fox patrols that sought an interview with the scout leader but who came away feeling that there was not a cloud in the sky of their future. in this manner a week, and then ten days, drifted along, with the opening of school looming up in the near future. paul had almost forgotten the troubles of his chum when one day he had the fact suddenly brought to his attention again, as jack came upon him with a face upon which rested the same old cloud of anxiety and grief. chapter ix "well done, my boy!" "there, some more gone, paul!" "but it's nearly ten days since we talked it over last, and then there were, let me see, i believe six coins left," returned the other, quickly. "that's true enough. and i can see now that you're wondering why none have been taken all this time, up to to-day," remarked jack, as he came alongside his chum, who was looking in at a window where sporting goods made a brave display. "will carlo hang around and wait for you a bit?" asked paul, looking with a smile toward the big newfoundland dog that had been trotting at the heels of his young master, carrying a basket, in which were several packages from the store. "sure. he's well trained, and that is one of the smallest of his stunts, as you know. see, he has laid the basket down, and stands guard over it. i dare any dog in stanhope to try and take it away. now, you want to know about my poor old batch of coins!" "i'm waiting to hear, old fellow," said paul, tenderly; for he could see that his chum was once again highly charged with emotion. "i thought i'd try a scheme unbeknown to you," began the other, slowly. "perhaps i can guess what you did--was it that you locked the door of your little den, jack?" "well, now, you are a champion guesser, for that was just what i did, every day up to this one--shut down the window, locked the door, and never went up there once," replied his comrade, with surprise written on his face. "and nothing was missing?" "not a coin. i counted six myself this morning when i went upstairs just to get something out of the snuggery." "did you forget to lock it after you, jack?" "no; but an idea came to me. at the time i thought it a bright one; but now i'm more than half sorry i ever tried it." "oh! then you left the door unlocked again on purpose?" "yes, and with the window open, at that. the invitation was plain enough," murmured jack, with dejection in his voice and manner. paul seemed to ponder over the matter; and indeed it was quite enough to try any boy's wits. "do you happen to know if any fellow called to see you to-day while you were out?" he asked, presently. "now, i thought of that, and asked both my brother and maggie to pay particular attention to it, if any boy stopped over, hoping i would come in." "nothing doing?" "it's kind of queer, but do you know, for a wonder not a single fellow has been at our house this blessed day. generally half a dozen call to see me, you know, to borrow books from my library, or talk over matters connected with our school society. it just looks as if everything wanted to mix me up worse than ever, and make me think--" "never mind what it makes you think," interrupted paul, quickly, squeezing the arm of his chum affectionately; "let's get down to facts. you know i promised that i'd find out the truth about this matter; and while up to now i've given it mighty little attention, don't think that i've forgotten, jack." "i don't; only it bothers me to understand how you can ever expect to find out who's taking my old coins, if i've made a mess of it; and living in the house at that!" rejoined the other, with bewilderment plainly visible on his face. "leave that to me. i repeat my promise, and if everything else fails why, what's going to hinder my hiding up there behind some of your stuff, where i can see for myself what happens?" "oh!" exclaimed jack, "that would be a clever idea; but much as i want to know the truth, i'm afraid to!" "well, you've got to get over that feeling. no matter what happens it's far better to know the worst; for then it may be remedied. i've heard my father tell of many a desperate case where only heroic treatment, as he called it, brought his patient through. we've just got to try it here, jack, old fellow. hello! what d'ye suppose all that row's about?" "sounds to me like a runaway horse, from the shouts," declared jack, quickly forgetting his own personal troubles in the new excitement. "look! there's the runaway, and coming this way around the corner. oh! it was nearly over that time! my heart was in my mouth!" cried paul. "there's some one in the wagon, paul, a little child!" almost shrieked jack; for the clamor was deafening by now, and ordinary sounds could never have been heard. no need to tell paul that. he had just made the astounding discovery himself, and was thrilled with sudden horror. it was a little boy who was tugging at the lines with a heroism worthy of one twice his size; but such a young person could make no impression on the hard mouth of that terrorized animal. in the sudden whirl around the corner the lad had come very near being thrown but, and was even now unsteadily trying to regain his balance. paul knew that it was an occasion for quick thinking, and even faster doing! he bounded away from the side of his chum as though on springs, leaving jack standing there on the curb, filled with eager anticipation, and fears. it was not _toward_ the rapidly advancing horse that the boy ran, but in exactly the opposite direction, as though he were being chased. with the wagon flinging about from side to side, and hindering the progress of the runaway to some extent, paul believed that he could almost hold his own in the race. little by little he meant to let the horse overtake him. then, at just the right second his chance would come to jump at the animal's head, seize upon the lines close to the bit, and throw his entire weight upon them. he knew that it called for good judgment, since the slightest mistake would be apt to cost him dear. to be thrown under the iron-shod hoofs of the galloping animal might mean making him a cripple for the rest of his life. even that possibility did not daunt paul. he only saw the frightened face of the little chap who so valorously clung to the lines, and shouted shrilly at the top of his childish voice, as though expecting the usually tractable horse to mind. a human life in peril--that was one of the cardinal points that must call for action on the part of a true boy scout. he might refuse to engage in a sanguinary battle with some rival who had dared him to a fight; but under no conditions must he hold back when the chance offered to do a good deed. now the horse was just behind him, and still galloping furiously. if anything, the animal was making more desperate headway than ever, for the outcries on every side seemed to add to his fright. every eye was focussed on the runner. one man in a vehicle had drawn in his horse, and with white cheeks watched the remarkable scene. if any among that throng had reason to send up a silent prayer for the safety of that daring lad just then, surely he might. for the man in the buggy was doctor alan morrison, paul's own father! five seconds passed, but it seemed an hour, a day, a life-time to that man, as his heart ceased to beat, and he gripped the reins convulsively in his clenched hands. then the heavens seemed to almost split with the sudden outburst of wild shouts that raced up and down that street. "he's done it! hurrah! the boy's stopped him! bully for paul morrison!" men shouted, boys shrieked, while women embraced in their tears. the tense strain was over, for willing hands had clutched the lines after paul's weight had brought the wild runaway to a staggering halt; and the danger was past. then ensued a wild scene, everybody trying to get hold of the boy who had known what to do in an emergency, and not only that, but had done it. confused, overwhelmed, paul in the great confusion tried to flee; but while he did manage to duck under many of the hands outstretched to clutch him, it was only to dart into the arms of some one who pressed him to his heart. and looking up the boy saw above him the face of one whom he loved--his father, who had been a witness to his adventure. "that was well done, my boy; and i'm glad i saw it!" was all the good doctor said; but paul never forgot the proud look that accompanied the words. it would return to him many times in the distant future, when he might be tempted by the fascinations of the world to turn aside from the narrow path which he had chosen to tread; and must ever be a guide and beacon for his footsteps. then came jack, with william, tom betts and bluff shipley, all nearly wild over the fact that it was their chum who had acquitted himself so well. before paul could make his escape he found his hand gripped by the father of the child in the wagon, who happened to be a prosperous farmer, with whom doctor morrison was well acquainted. "i never could tell you what i think about this, my boy," he said, with deep feeling. "the child's mother'll never forget you, be sure of that. and it ain't right for me to offer you any reward for doing such a fine thing; but i want you to buy something with this ten dollars, that every time you look at it you'll remember little tod perkins, what owed his life to you." "oh! i couldn't think of it, mr. perkins. why, it was just pie to me, you know. please don't make me take it!" said the boy, still more confused; but the farmer had already turned away to embrace his child, and there seemed nothing for it but to accept the gift. "don't offend him by refusing, paul; he means well, and perhaps you can buy something with it that will serve as a reminder," said the doctor, always trying to avoid hurting other people's feelings. "why, sure, what's to hinder you buying your scout's uniform with it?" declared william at this juncture. "you certain earned it, if anybody ever did work for what they got!" avowed bobolink, positively. "oh! w-w-why wasn't it m-m-me?" wailed bluff, in pretended grief. "say, do you think you could have nailed that runaway horse, with such an impediment twisting you up?" demanded bobolink, grinning. "well, boys, since you say so, i suppose then i'll just have to accept it, and call my outfit earned by the sweat of my brow," laughed paul, taking out his handkerchief to wipe his face from its collection of perspiration and dust. chapter x an unexpected offer paul and his chum managed to break away finally, and walk toward the home of the latter. jack had his arm through that of the other, and it seemed as though he felt happier over the recent exploit than the one who had occupied the centre of the stage. "my heart seemed to be up in my mouth just when you made that grab for the bit. i believe i would have fallen in a fit if you had gone under, paul," said jack, with a big sigh, as he pressed the arm he held. "well, i was a little worried myself that something might upset me just then. but luck favored me, you know. i'm more than glad, because it would have given my mother a bad shock if i'd been trampled on. but please drop that subject, old fellow," said paul, making a wry face. "i will, since you ask it; but they won't forget it in the town for a long time. such things happen only once a year or more around dull old stanhope. to-night we meet to see how many have the money earned for the suits; and i'm glad to say i can cover my needs. you're doubly supplied now, with this windfall." "yes, and i wish i could help some other fellow out; but i'm afraid that would be against the rules of the game. here we are at your house, and bless me if carlo hasn't carried that basket of provisions straight back to the kitchen door. say, he _is_ a trump, sure enough, jack." "oh! that's dead easy for carlo. why, we often put a nickel in the basket, and send him down to the bakery for a loaf of bread," laughed the other. "and does he always get it?" asked paul, looking suddenly interested. "i don't believe he's failed for six months. of course mr. crusty knows what we want, and wraps the loaf up so as to keep the dust off. why, that ain't the best of his tricks, by a long shot. i taught him when he was hungry to go--" "excuse me, won't you, jack; there comes father, and i do believe he's heading home long before his usual time. perhaps he's afraid mother may hear that something has happened to me, and would be anxious. i'd better jump in with him, don't you think? another time i'll hear all about the wonderful stunts of carlo." and so speaking paul ran out to join his father in the buggy. jack looked after him, and sighed heavily. it was not that he felt a particle jealous of the recent exploit which his chum had engineered so successfully; for envy was not one of his failings. but he did wish that his mind was as free from anxiety and suspicion as that of paul morrison. for the mystery of those disappearing coins hung about his neck like a millstone, nor could he ever know peace again until in some way it were explained. what happened at the morrison home when the doctor told the story of his boy's heroism no one ever knew; for paul was not the one to betray family secrets. but jack, who understood what an affectionate mother his chum had, could easily imagine how she wrapped her arms about the boy, and pressed him again and again to her bosom, thanking heaven that the child she had watched grow from babyhood until he was now almost as tall as his father, should show signs of proving himself a worthy successor to the "good doctor," as every one knew him. that night the boys had the darkness to contend with when they started for the place of meeting, though the late moon might show her smiling face before the time came for them to return home. there were just twenty-two who reported at roll call that evening at eight, and one need only glance around at the faces of the boys, both large and small, to be positive that the enthusiasm, instead of dying out, was increasing by leaps and bounds. when the meeting had been called to order, the one subject that interested those gathered was the question of obtaining their uniforms and other outfit. a warm discussion arose shortly when jack asked for information concerning the right of any scout to assist a fellow member who might be behind in earning the necessary amount. some believed one way, while others seemed to look at it in another light, and not a few were, as jack said, "on the fence." "listen, fellows, and i'll tell you what i gathered from studying the books on the boy scout movement loaned me by the minister. here are twenty or more of us, and we need just so much money for an outfit. some can show much more than they need, others fall short, although they may have worked even harder. is that plain?" and jack looked around at the eager faces as he put the question. "it certainly is," remarked paul, smiling; "some are born rich, others earn riches, and once in a while some lucky chap has the money stuck right in his hand. i'm one of the last class. but go on, jack; for i know you've got a bright idea that may help us out of this hole." "the answer is easy, fellows. we must make a common fund. then every member can put in all he wants, so long as it has been honestly earned. see my plan?" "sure, and it goes. that's the answer to the problem. let's try it out and see how near we can come to the amount needed," said jud elderkin, briskly; starting to pass around slips of paper and a pencil. "put down what you can hand over to the general fund, each fellow; and remember it means cash, to be delivered to-morrow, and not credit," he announced. there was the utmost eagerness to carry out the idea, and before five minutes had passed every boy had written his name on a slip of paper, together with the full amount which he could contribute to the general fund. "i appoint jud and bobolink a committee to canvass the vote, and count up the amount subscribed," said paul, as chairman of the meeting. it did not take very long, though the two boys were seen to go over their figures several times in order to make sure there could be no error. "look at the grins on their faces! don't that tell the story, fellows! hurrah!" shouted nuthin'. and when the amount was declared it was found that it far exceeded the actual sum needed to purchase uniforms for the entire twenty-two scouts, including hats and leggings. "don't forget that i've just got to have a bugle, fellows. what use is it to be elected bugler if you can't bugle?" exclaimed bobolink. "and m-m-me for a d-d-d-d-d-drum!" echoed bluff, excitedly; when he was immediately pounced upon as usual, and pounded several times on the back. "yes, do get bluff something he can beat. i've heard him drum, and he's just a corker at it. it keeps him from talking, you know," laughed tom betts. "hello!" exclaimed nuthin' suddenly; "look who's here, fellows!" all eyes were immediately turned toward the door, and focussed upon the figure that stood just within the barn, having entered while they were boisterously exchanging these compliments. "why, it's mr. growdy!" said paul. "old peleg!" echoed bobolink, in a hushed tone. one and all stared at the crusty old farmer, who for years had avoided all boys as though he thought them a dangerous breed of animals which it were safer to let severely alone. when paul saw the amused smile creeping over the rugged and seamed face of the old farmer he understood that peleg had really experienced a wonderful change of heart, dating from that night when the new boy scouts cleaned up his dooryard as an object lesson. and now peleg was coming slowly forward, looking a bit awkward; since he had never been accustomed to facing an audience, and especially one composed of boys. they made way for him, so that presently he found himself completely surrounded by an eager throng. "glad to see you, mr. growdy," said paul, holding out his hand impulsively; and to the surprise of the others it was eagerly seized upon by the calloused fingers of the toiler in the fields; "these are the friends i spoke to you about. and this is the fox patrol of the newly organized boy scouts." peleg grinned, and acknowledged the introduction by ducking his touseled head. "glad to meet ye, boys. i've be'n hearin' quite considerable 'bout what ye was adoin' over here, an' i thort as how i'd jest drap in to see ye all; sorter like returnin' yer call, so to speak!" he said, again allowing a humorous look to appear upon his face. and somehow the boys instantly concluded that when peleg allowed the lines of his severe face to relax, he was rather a jolly old chap after all. "hurrah! three cheers for mr. peleg growdy!" exclaimed one of those who felt relieved to think that his coming meant no trouble after all. but the farmer raised his hand. "jest wait till i has my little say, boys. now, at fust i was kinder riled that a passel o' boys shud 'a' took me to task on account o' my way o' lettin' things run loose like at my place. but i gotter thinkin' her over, and by hokey if it didn't jest come home to me. times was when my dooryard was the puttiest around all stanhope, with the flowers abloomin', an' every scrap tidied up; but in them happy days mandy an' the kids was there, ye see; an' sense they was took it 'peared like i never cared what things looked like; an' that's a fact, boys." the old man seemed to swallow something that threatened to choke him; and then, while the boys hung on his every word, and wondered how they had ever come to misunderstand him as they had, he went on: "but i kim to the conclusion, arter thet kind visit ye paid me, thet i owed a duty to the community, and it warn't right for any citizen to let his place look disgraceful. so arter this nobody ain't agoin' to be ashamed to pass by the yard where mandy 'tended the rose bushes, and her tots played from morn to night. i jest drapped in here to thank ye right hearty boys, for showin' me wot was wantin'. arter this there ain't never agoin' to be any trouble between me an' the boys o' stanhope. they kin count on old peleg growdy to contribute to every sport that goes to cultivate the mind and body in the right direction!" he seemed a vastly different man as he stood there and said this, for his head was thrown back, his eyes flashed, and his face was almost friendly in its expression, the old haggard look having for the time being disappeared. "again i say, three cheers for mr. growdy!" called joe clausin. "wait a bit, fellers. i got somethin' more to say," pleaded the old man, once again lifting his hand to still the rising tumult. paul smiled, for he could give a pretty shrewd guess as to what was coming; and it certainly did him good to realize how their odd little scheme was turning out to be such a glorious success. every voice was hushed, and once more the throng waited for the farmer to explain. "i've been ahearin' a good lot about wot ye're all adoin' with this boy scout business. kinder got me interested, an' i borried some books o' the dominie jest so i could understand wot 'twas all about. an' i want to say i like the ijee fust rate. if i hed any boys o' my own," and his voice faltered right there, "i'd sure encourage 'em to jine in with ye. seein' as i ain't, an' on account o' the good turn ye done me t'other night, boys, i'm goin' to ask a favor o' ye. i ain't got nary a kid to leave my money to when i go; and so i hope ye'll let me pay for fittin' this here fox patrol out with uniforms! that's my ijee, boys, an' it'll give me great joy if so be ye take me up!" they looked at each other for a minute, speechless with astonishment. then being real boys they found their voices with a rush. no need now for tom butts or joe clausin to suggest three cheers. that old barn fairly rocked with the volume of sound that burst forth, as every fellow swung his hat in the air, and tried his best to give his feelings free rein. chapter xi caught napping "silence!" the tumult died away as quickly as it had sprung into being, when paul held up his right hand and made this request. all being still again, he turned to the grinning old farmer, who was doubtless getting more solid satisfaction out of this new experience than he had obtained from any clever dicker or trade engineered in the last ten years. "mr. growdy," said paul, with considerable of feeling in his voice, "as the present scout leader of stanhope troop no. of the boy scouts, i want to thank you sincerely for your generous offer. we all appreciate the kindly spirit that causes you to make it to us. but unfortunately it happens that the rules of our organization will not allow us to accept." peleg's face fell several degrees at this. "say, couldn't ye jest make an exception this time, boys?" he pleaded. "i'll feel right hurt if i ain't 'lowed to help on this business some. wot's a hundred dollars beside the new speerit ye've managed somehow to start up in me? if ye need more, by gum! ye kin hev it! i ain't no hog, if i hev let the people think so this long time." "sorry to say so, mr. growdy, but we can't accept. besides, we have all earned enough money now to pay for what we need, and expect to send away to-morrow to get our suits," paul went on; and even while he was talking a bright idea came flashing into his brain. "wall, now that's jest too bad, boys. i'd calkerlated to spend that hundred on doin' a good deed, an' ye make me go back home with the same hugged tight in my pocket. i'm sorry it cain't be did, i am, sure," muttered the farmer, shaking his head, and acting like a child that has been cheated out of some anticipated pleasure. "that doesn't follow, mr. growdy," said paul, in a low but thrilling voice; "if you have set your mind on using that hundred dollars to do a good work, perhaps i might give you a hint where it would fit in mighty well, and make your heart feel warm." "hey! wot's that, paul? i don't understand," exclaimed the man. "down just beyond the outskirts of stanhope there lives a poor widow woman who, i'm told, is in danger of being put out of her home any day now because she has been sick and unable to work so as to pay her rent. if you went to her right now, mr. growdy, and put that wad of money in her hand, i'm sure you'd never regret it, sir; and every boy here would thank you just as much as if you paid for his uniform. isn't that so, fellows?" a chorus of shouts testified to the fact that paul had hit upon a popular idea for turning the sudden generosity of the hitherto miserly old farmer to account. "who is the woman?" asked peleg growdy uneasily. "mrs. jenks, who has three little children to support. her husband was killed in that blast some years ago, and she never recovered a cent from the mining company, for they burst like a bubble," returned paul. "by gum! wot d'ye know about that, now? i reckons as how she lives in one o' my own cottages, which the real estate man, stebbins, takes keer of fur me. he was tellin' me about some tenant he'd have to put out; but i never noticed more'n that the name was jenks." "but now?" ventured paul. "it won't be did! no, sir, not by a jugful. i got my team outside, an' i'm goin' straight over to see the widder. i knowed her husband onct too, an' i'm some 'shamed thet i didn't look her up afore," and peleg started for the door. "hold on, mr. growdy!" called paul. "hey! wot's doin' now, boys?" demanded the old man, turning to grin again at his new host of young friends. "you oughtn't to leave here, sir, without giving every boy scout the privilege of shaking hands with you. i'm sure i speak for each fellow when i ask that favor," returned paul, stepping forward. peleg was agreeable, though he blushed like a schoolboy as the scouts, forming in line, walked past him, each seizing his horny hand eagerly, and doing his best to make the old farmer wince with the warmth of his squeeze. they gave him a parting cheer as he passed out, and the old fellow tried to return the military salute to the best of his ability. "well, what do you think of that?" asked nuthin', when they were once more gathered around their leader for the purpose of further discussion. "the finest thing that could possibly have happened. we had our frolic; and see what it hatched. after this peleg growdy will never be the same grumpy man he was in the past. no boy need longer hesitate to call out to him on the street; for peleg, i take it, has seen a great light, eh, jack?" and paul slapped his chum heartily on the shoulder as he spoke. "my idea exactly," replied his chum, quickly. "and do you know it made me feel bad the way he spoke of mandy and the kids. some of you fellows may not know that he lost his wife and children in a fire that burned his house down while he was away. i'm glad we did that job, and you deserve the praise, paul, because it was your own scheme." "humbug! every one of you chimed in as soon as it was mentioned, and so you're entitled to as much praise as i am. but about those uniforms, boys--hadn't the scout tailor better get to work, going over his measurements again? we want the suits to fit all right, you know." and in this way did paul direct the attention of his comrades in another quarter, because it was really unpleasant for him to be placed on a pedestal, as though he were different from the rest of them. amid much laughter and joking the measuring went on. wallace carberry wielded the tape-line, and bobolink put down the figures, being closely patched so that no errors could possibly creep in. so engrossed were they in this interesting business, that no one paid the least attention to their surroundings. and when a heavy shutter was slowly closed over the one large window of the tobacco barn, the fact went unnoticed. in fact the meeting was about ready to disband, and one of the boys started for the door to be in advance of his friends, when he made a discovery. "who locked this door, fellows?" he called, as he tried in vain to budge the barrier. of course this drew the attention of all the rest, and a rush was made for the place of exit. one by one the boys tried to push the door open, but even the stoutest of them failed to accomplish it. "who was the last one in?" demanded bobolink, furiously, as he retired, worsted from the encounter, to allow another a chance at the door. "old peleg growdy, to be sure; and the door wasn't fastened then. d'ye suppose he did anything to it when he went out?" asked william, as he tried to assist jud, now straining and pushing in a useless endeavor to move the heavy door. "that's nonsense," said paul, as he pointed to the fact that the door could not be locked, since it gave an inch or so each time the boys pushed. "ginger! it's got something braced against it outside, that's what!" announced another fellow. "as sure as you're born it has!" echoed bobolink. all doubt was dissipated just then, for a series of loud and derisive shouts in boyish treble welled up from outside. "shucks!" grunted bobolink, in sheer disgust; "we've gone and let the slavin fellers have another crack at us. a nice lot of scouts we look like, not to keep sentries on duty when we have a secret meeting. and now they've got us cooped up here like a lot of old hens! shucks! i say again!" "well, that's no reason we have to stay cooped up, is it?" demanded jack, as he turned to hunt around for some object which could be used for a battering ram so as to force the barricaded door of the barn. "t-t-try the b-b-big wagon doors, fellows!" whooped bluff. they did, but with no more success than had attended their puny efforts against the smaller exit. those who had been at work while they talked must have done a good job, for the big doors were utterly immovable. "do we have to stay in here until morning?" wailed andy flinn, in mock despair. "not much, if i have to climb up to the roof, and knock a plank off. say, those fellows must have been spying out here when i met them this morning," said bobolink. "listen now, what d'ye suppose they're doing?" demanded nuthin'. all remained in an attitude of expectancy, and could hear strange sounds that seemed to come from under the boards forming the floor of the barn; which building had not always been used for drying tobacco alone. "now what d'ye suppose the sillies are poking poles under there, for?" ejaculated william; "and just when i was going to propose that we pull up a board, and crawl through the hole." "whew! what's this mean? say, fellows, if that don't make me think of a blessed old skunk i don't know the odor when i meet it!" and wallace drew back as he was about to get down on his hands and knees to investigate the meaning of the odd sounds under the barn flooring. others got it quickly, and various cries arose, as the boys began to hold their noses, and look around at each other. "it'll smother us, fellows, that's what!" gasped william, quite pale by now; for the odor which a skunk leaves in its wake affects some persons powerfully, though others hardly mind it at all. "i know!" bluff managed to gasp, with a great effort; "there's a f-f-family of s-s-skunks have their h-h-home under here. i've seen 'em, b-b-but i never b-b-bothered the b-b-beauties. oh! ain't it j-j-just awful, f-f-fellows?" it certainly was. stirred up by the poles wielded by ted slavin and his cronies, who must have discovered the presence of the polecats when visiting the barn that morning, and laid their plans accordingly, the little animals were using the only means of defence against an enemy granted them by nature. william actually keeled over, and his brother had to drag him to the further end of the barn so that he might not get the full benefit of the overpowering scent. "something's just _got_ to be done!" cried jack, himself not feeling any too well under the infliction. "here, help me lift this old beam, boys. we can make a battering ram out of it, and burst a board off somehow. never mind the damages; they can be repaired easy enough. two more get hold. now, swing around this way. i think the weakest place is in the rear. keep back, the rest of you. here goes!" five others had been only too willing to lend a hand when paul called for volunteers. the beam that had been lying against the further wall was good and heavy; but that made it all the better as an engine for ramming a hole through the boarded side of the barn. amid the cheers of the scouts the novel battering ram was carried forward with a will, and on the run. some of the boys held up lanterns so that those who were in the line of attack could see just where to strike. even poor overcome william managed to raise his head, and feebly wave a hand of encouragement. the beam struck with tremendous force, and nothing in the way of a plain ordinary boarding could withstand the impetus with which it was driven forward. "whoop!" yelled the scouts, as a big aperture appeared in the side of the barn, and the route to liberty lay before them. they were not slow to avail themselves of the privilege either, but hastened to scramble through the gap, carrying the lanterns with them. william managed to get up enough steam to crawl outside, where he could breath air that was not fetid, and filled with overpowering odors. only bluff looked back half regretfully at the haven of refuge they had just quitted. for he was wondering how his father could ever manage to efface that scent so that the tobacco, soon to be harvested, might be hung up in that barn without detracting from its marketable value. and once out of the trap the boy scouts began to chase around, with vengeance in their eyes; but as on previous occasions the wary enemy, after accomplishing their mischief, had been wise enough to slink away. chapter xii the rival troops "how far do we have to go in this new plan of forgiving the enemy, paul?" asked william, who had by now fully recovered from his recent weakness, and was burning with zeal to avenge himself upon their persecutors. "yes, this thing has got to have a limit!" declared jud elderkin, as he glared around at the moonlit scene, and no doubt imagined their rivals hiding near by, where they could laugh at the disturbed group. paul knew boy nature too well to stretch their patience beyond the breaking point. he was astonished that such fire-eaters as bluff, william, and several more, could restrain themselves even as well as they had. to keep them in hand the reins must be loosened a little; but only to enable him to get a better hold later on. "well, there's no positive rule, fellows; and so far as i can see i believe the limit has already been passed, with us," he said, pleasantly. "hurrah! that's the kind of talk!" cried the inflammable twin. "then you give us permission to pitch in, and whale the whole bunch the next time they play one of their measly old tricks on us? is that so, paul?" demanded jud. "oh! i only h-h-hope so!" came from bluff. "wait till the time comes, and perhaps i'll help you give them a much-needed lesson. we don't want to play the worm part, always," remarked paul; "and now, boys, let's head for home." "ta-ta, sweet little meeting-house on the edge of the woods; i'll carry fond memories of you as long as this suit of clothes lasts, i guess," said william, waving his hand mockingly backward toward the deserted barn. "watch out for some of those slavin fellows on the road. they may bombard us from the woods with rocks!" warned joe clausin. "just let 'em try, that's all. we'll chase the stone thrower to a standstill, and then he'll be sorry he wandered away from his happy home this night!" bobolink declared, ferociously. so they walked along in detached groups, many eyes were on the alert, and listening ears bent to catch some sign of a lurking foe. once or twice they heard signals being exchanged deep in the woods, evidently by the scattered cohorts of ted; but while valiant, the members of the fox patrols were wise and prudent as well, copying the cautious attributes of the wary animal after which their new organization had been named. they declined to explore the dense forest, seeking a foe that might only be bent on luring them along, until ready to pounce on them in a body, to make them prisoners of war. and so finally the march came to an end, with all hands satisfied that the last meeting of the little host of new scouts had been attended by several of the most exciting circumstances that ever befell the boys of stanhope. paul and his chum walked on together, until reaching the first home they said good night. but neither again brought up that subject which had been worrying jack stormways for so long a time. if paul had conceived any sort of an idea in connection with the strange disappearance of the old coins, he kept it to himself. once, however, on the way home after leaving jack, he stopped to clap his hand down vigorously on his knee, and whispered to himself: "now, i wonder if that could possibly be so?" but no matter what idea had struck him, further words didn't come to tell whether his thoughts were connected with jack's personal trouble; or on the other hand if the annoying enmity of ted slavin, ward kenwood, and their would-be scout troop, was still on his mind. nevertheless, as paul passed up to the front door of his home, and stopped a minute to look up at the bright moon sailing across the eastern heavens, he considered that he had good reason to feel more than satisfied with the magnificent results already attending the new methods of the boy scouts. on the following day he sent off the letter containing a check which his father gave him in place of the money, so that it might not be lost. then followed a period of anxious waiting, during which many of the members of the stanhope troop no. felt touches of envy at sight of their rivals parading the streets, decked out in the full regalia of scouts, and carrying themselves with the proudest of airs. they knew that ted and ward were busily engaged in drilling their followers in many of the devices prominently mentioned in the manual book. for that matter, though, it did not require regulation suits of khaki to excel in those same things; and so the foxes also studied and experimented, and burned candles at night in the endeavor to learn all that was possible of those various accomplishments. there was a great difference in the boys of the town. few who were of the proper age but who belonged to one or the other of the troops; and people were beginning to notice how much more manly they carried themselves, and how anxious they seemed now to get credit marks at home. parents upon meeting never failed to talk about this wonderful change, and express hopes that it would last. "the best thing that ever happened, barring none, i think," was what the old minister declared, at a meeting of the women's club; "and it deserves to be encouraged. why, you ladies should take advantage of this wave of reform, to get these lads interested in keeping the streets of the town clean. give me fifty willing workers among the boys, and i warrant you there will never be a stray piece of paper blowing around. they'll provide receptacles for trash, and see that everybody uses them." and so it went around, and everybody seemed delighted at the innovation. only a few skeptical old fogies shook their heads, and declared that it was too good to last, and that they about expected to see the boys of stanhope transplanted to the heavens in a body presently, since their wings must be sprouting. about this time it came to the ears of paul that the banner which the peace-loving quaker, mr. westervelt, had offered for the most proficient troop of scouts along the bushkill, had been placed on exhibition in the window of a jewelry store over in the manufacturing town of manchester. he and jack wheeled over that very day to inspect the coveted trophy. when they saw what a beauty it was, their hearts thrilled with new aspirations. "worth fighting hard for, eh, paul?" observed jack. "i should say, yes," replied the other, delight written in big letters on his face, pressed so close to the glass; "and i reckon it would do our fellows lots of good just to run down here to look at that dandy banner. i must tell them all about it, and have them see it for themselves." "a bully good idea. you know how to get a fellow to put his best licks into any job he undertakes," declared his chum, admiringly. "humbug!" scornfully replied paul; "why, it's as easy as falling off a log. don't you feel more like straining every nerve in the effort to win that prize, after seeing how handsome it is? well, i just try to believe every fellow is more or less like i am. that's the whole secret. yes, stanhope must work hard to catch up with the other fellows." there were several boys standing around, also gaping at the fine snowy banner, upon which as the card under it, went on to state, was to be embroidered with colored silk the totem of the leading patrol of the successful troop. these fellows could not help knowing who the strangers in town were; and it was also easy for them to guess what had brought paul and jack down there. more than a few times had they seen these stanhope boys competing on the athletic field, either in baseball, or football. and of course it was always good form for manchester lads to "josh" any would-be rivals. "yes," said one of the natives, with a grin, "up in that corner is where the eagle is going to be painted. and every time we go on a hike we'll carry that banner at the head of the procession." "they say," remarked another, with pretended innocence, "that poor old stanhope is getting up a troop, and even hopes to have a try for this beauty. now, what do you think about the nerve of that, fellows?" "oh! well, the more the merrier," came from a third, whom paul knew to be the scout leader of the "eagles" in person, "and after all, we don't mind showing these tenderfeet scouts how to do stunts. none of us want to be hogs, boys. there's room enough for all, even if some do have to eat the husks." paul had to laugh out loud at this. "say, you're on to us, all right, manchester," he said, turning around. "yes, we've come down here just to take a peep at this great prize. of course we'd like mighty well to say we meant to win it; but we're too modest for that. the most we admit is that we mean to make a try for it. of course we haven't got much show against two such veteran troops as manchester and aldine; but we want to get all the fun out of the game we can. and you won't begrudge us that, claypool?" "sure we won't, morrison," returned the other, frankly, thrusting out his hand; "as i said before, the more in it the better. it will make our victory look bigger." "glad to see you're so dead sure of winning out," laughed paul; "whenever the stanhope boys go into anything they always work harder if they have big odds against them. but all the same that's a bully good banner, and no matter whether it has an eagle, the head of a beaver, or that of a fox worked on it in colored silk, it's going to be something we'll all be proud of as boy scouts." "that's well put, morrison; though you might just as well get it out of your head now as later that the manchester fellows will ever let any crowd come in here and take that dandy flag away. why, our fellows know ten times as much about scout tactics as your greenhorns do now." claypole did not mean to be overbearing; when he said this he really believed it to be an actual fact. "that's very true," said paul, quietly, as he and his chum prepared to mount their wheels for the return journey; "but thanksgiving is still more than two months off; and claypole, i give you my word, we've got some of the smartest tenderfeet in the stanhope troop you ever heard of. ta-ta, boys!" of course, when paul and jack told what they had seen, every fellow wanted to make the run over to manchester to look for himself. and, just as paul had expected, they came back home more than ever enthused with the hope and prospect of winning that royal banner for the stanhope troop. at the next meeting the talk was all about the prize, and a vote was even taken to ascertain to whom the honor of being the banner bearer might fall, in case the victory was awarded to stanhope. wallace carberry turned out to be the lucky standard bearer. all of which was just what clever paul wanted. he had infused a new stimulant into the veins of his comrades. and at their next outdoor rally, when various contests were undertaken to discover who showed the most skill, he found that the very atmosphere seemed to be surcharged with electricity; for the boys labored to excel as they had never done before; but it was because each one believed that upon his shoulders alone devolved the duty of bringing that beautiful prize to stanhope. four days later the expected suits arrived, much sooner than even the most sanguine had anticipated. then there _was_ a time. the usually quiet and peaceful streets of the town were fairly filled with khaki-clad warriors, strutting up and down, exchanging military salutes, and arousing the admiration of all the girls, who came forth to gaze and applaud. it was a great day for stanhope. a stranger visiting there for the first time might think some military academy must have taken up fall quarters near by, and granted full liberty to its uniformed hosts. if there were those who had been hesitating about joining either of the troops, a decision must certainly follow the first glimpse of those gallant uniforms. that night many a lad ate supper as an honored guest at his father's table; for surely the wearer of a uniform must be entitled to unusual privileges. of course the word had gone around for a meeting of the stanhope no. . but it was not to be held at the shipley barn--oh! no, those boys had had "quite a sufficiency," as bobolink said, of their former quarters; and bluff admitted that his father would not dare use the building again that year for his tobacco crop. jason carberry, father of the twins, had asked as a favor that they make use of his big smithy; and since the night air was cool, paul had accepted this generous proposition of the blacksmith on the spot. so that was where they came together, a uniformed organization, at last. chapter xiii "fire!" "man the bellows, somebody." "yes, stir up the fire in that forge, william. it's the coldest september night on record, and that's a fact!" exclaimed bobolink, as he pushed the lively member of the carberry team toward the smouldering fire left by the blacksmith when he gave over his capacious smithy to the boy scouts for their meeting. "m-m-my dad s-s-says he once lost his t-t-t-tobacco c-crop in s-s-september!" observed bluff, shaking his head as he pushed toward the fire. the boys had had a fine meeting. besides the twenty-two in their new uniforms, four new recruits had been present, to drink in with eager ears all that passed, and sigh for the day to come when they too might shine forth in such resplendant suits. already was there much rivalry shown in the many competitions which the young scout leaders had instituted. there was a class on aviation, another that had taken up the mysteries of camping with all its fascinating details; a third chose photography as the most entrancing subject, and exhibited many pictures that were to be entered in the great contest of the county for the banner. then several boys had doubled, for surely the knowledge of cookery went hand in hand with that of camping; while a good stalker could at the same time enter for a merit badge in the path-finding line. besides, though the season was late for swimming, several fellows who knew just what their best accomplishment might be, had qualified to enter this class. on the whole the meeting had been a most interesting one. every scout was burning with enthusiasm, and many were the resolutions that stanhope must have what bobolink called a "show-in," with regard to that coveted banner, which was to fall to the leading patrol of the county. they were now almost ready to "break camp" for the evening, and before doing so indulged in a little general talk. many had ideas which they wished to advance, in order to discover what the attitude of their comrades might be. "mr. chairman," said wallace carberry, when he found a little lull in the buzz of conversation, "i have a proposition i'd like to put before the meeting before we disband." "hear! hear!" shouted several of the boys, notably those who had been seen in close confab with wallace, and hence probably in touch with his scheme. "all right, number seven; let's hear what it is," replied paul, readily. every member of each patrol had a number. these began with the scout leader, who of course had to take the "initial sack," as bobolink, still baseball wild, put it. jack, as his assistant in control, came as number two; bobolink next; bluff captured four as his distinguishing feature; nuthin' being five, and the twins the next pair, for it would never do to separate william and wallace, while tom betts was eighth and last. "if the gentlemen present will give me the floor, with the privilege of three minutes in which to explain what i have in mind, i will be glad to comply." wallace was very precise in his way of putting things. this did not happen only when in school, or as he stood up to address a meeting of his chums. he could not unbend his dignity even under the most trivial conditions. william was just the reverse; and so full of frolic and fun that the boys always declared the pair to be unequally matched, since in disposition they were exact opposites. and yet under it all there was the same abiding affection that generally may be found between twins. "hear! hear!" shouted the boys once more. "let's have it, wallace, old sport. it's bound to be a jim-dandy idea!" declared a loud voice that seemed to spring from the ceiling; but no one was deceived, for they knew only too well how bobolink could throw his voice pretty much where he pleased. "silence!" when paul, who in the absence of a regular scout master, occupied the chair, uttered this one word every sound ceased; and after that there was no excuse for wallace to hesitate longer. "some of us have been talking it over, mr. chairman, and we would respectfully request that you name an early date when we can go out into the woods for several tests of skill. there is much keen rivalry among a number of us already, which can only be settled by an open trial. first of all there is the interesting water-boiling test of woodmanship. we want to know who is the leading light in that class so we may push him forward to enter the general competition with other boy scout troops. am i understood, mr. chairman?" "i think you have made your meaning plain, and the one particular competition you mention happens to be the most interesting of all," replied paul. "then may we hope that you will name an early day for the trial to come off? unfortunately school begins shortly now, and outside of saturdays and holidays the several fox patrols may not have much chance to practice before the grand trial comes off. make it as early as possible, mr. chairman." "how would to-morrow do?" asked paul, only too anxious himself to ascertain how the boys would "toe the mark." wallace looked at his backers, and there were vigorous nods in answer to the question seen upon his face. "it seems to be the unanimous consensus of opinion, mr. chairman, that to-morrow would suit first rate. please give us the hour for assembling, and you can depend on our being on deck," wallace remarked. "two o'clock ought to answer. that will give us plenty of time to try out a lot of stunts i shall arrange for." "where shall we meet?" asked jud elderkin. "h-h-how about our b-b-barn, fellows?" queried bluff, grinning. there was an instantaneous howl of derision, and every right hand went up so that the thumb and forefinger might compress a nose. "another year might do, bluff!" called one. "what isn't fit for storing tobacco can't be a proper meeting place for respectable boy scouts!" declared another, energetically. "oh! he's only bluffing, fellows; don't mind him!" "in fancy i can smell it now," sang another, mockingly. "we'll meet just outside this very blacksmith shop, and at two sharp," declared the chairman, decisively; "and any scout who is tardy will be given one or more bad marks that he must carry as a load in the competition. punctuality is a leading trait in stanhope troop no. , you understand. any other proposition?" the boys began to talk among themselves, and for a short time there was a constant buzz that sounded like a big hive of bees. jack found himself in contact with paul while this was going on. he had been doing his duty to the best of his ability as he understood it; and while the meeting was in progress had proven conclusively that he had a thorough knowledge of the many things a full fledged scout must know. jack meant to graduate from the tenderfoot class in the shortest possible space of time. any scout may do this by being diligent in the pursuit of various lines of woodcraft. "well," said jack, as he pushed alongside his chum, "this has been a dandy meeting, all right. and there are four new fellows knocking at the door; with perhaps more to follow, when stanhope learns what great times we have." "yes, and i guess we'll need new recruits right along. you know that some of the boys will fall by the wayside soon after the novelty has worn off," remarked wise paul, who delighted in studying human nature as he saw it around him. "listen! fellows! the fire alarm!" shouted joe clausin, just at that instant. every voice was hushed. clear upon the night air rang out the sound of a tocsin--the stroke of a hammer upon a steel rim from a locomotive wheel, and which was hung aloft in the only firehouse in stanhope. it was a thrilling sound at any time, and especially to a company of boys newly enlisted in the great cause of humanity--of lending a hand to neighbors who might be in trouble. so after several more clear, resounding strokes had pealed forth, calling the volunteer department out to fight the fire demon, one scout started wildly for the double doors of the smithy. he was immediately followed by others, and in almost the twinkling of an eye the carberry blacksmith shop was emptied of its late noisy crowd. chapter xiv jack's chance "wow! look at that, will you?" "it's a barn most likely!" "don't you believe it. i can see the roof of the house! say, i believe it must be that old bradley place! come along, fellows!" "there are the firemen on the run! they'll have old rescue no. on the jump in a jiffy. hey, fellers, let's get busy, and pull the hose cart for 'em!" "bully idea. lead the way, paul! it's up to you to show us how!" with these and many more cries the boy scouts bore down on the building that sheltered the lone fire department of the town. this consisted of a cast-off engine in good repair which had been purchased from some big city, where they were installing an auto in place of horse power for propelling their machines; and a hose reel, the latter to be drawn by a line of men. of course the assembling firemen were only too glad of the offered aid. to have a score of husky boys appear so readily on the scene, ready for business, was in the line of a "snap." accordingly, while some of the men got the horses hitched to the engine, and others started the fire going, the hose cart was rushed out, and its long rope eagerly seized by the waiting boys. paul was at the end of the line, for a scout leader must live up to his reputation as a general, no matter what the emergency. "pull!" went forth the cry, and immediately the hose reel started off in the direction where a flash of fiery red announced that the excitement was centred. nothing could please such an energetic lot of lads more than a chance to make themselves useful in this way. they pulled with a will, and passed along the road leading out of the town, on a wild run. the one who had declared that it was the old bradley house that was on fire must have had the situation well in mind. perhaps he lived in that neighborhood, and was better able to judge than the balance of the boys. at any rate all of them had by now made sure of the fact. paul remembered that a family, in which were quite a number of children, had lately come to town, and taken the big ramshackle building. the thought gave him a thrill, and inwardly he found himself hoping that none of them might be caught in that fire-trap. "there comes the old machine!" shouted the fellow who, not being able to get a grip on the rope by which the hose wagon was drawn, trotted in the rear, and made out to push. yes, they could hear the shouts of the excited fire laddies now, and also catch the sound of galloping horses. looking over his shoulder, paul saw a medley of moving lights, evidently the lanterns carried by the volunteers. these were doubtless clad in their old toggery and fire hats, the foreman with his silver trumpet in evidence, without which no respectable fire would think of allowing itself to be quenched. and a rising column of sparks attested to the fact that the fire in the engine was in full blast, so that steam would be ready by the time the scene of operations was reached. "one side, boys, and let them pass! give them plenty of room!" called paul. he had seen that old engine booming along to a fire on many an occasion, and remembered that the driver, hank seeris, was inclined to be a reckless hand; for as a rule the machine was wobbling from side to side, and threatening to overturn at any minute. up to this date that catastrophe had never happened; but paul remembered the old saying that "a pitcher may go to the well once too often;" and he had fears. it proved that they were well grounded too, after the hose reed had safely negotiated the last bend in the road, and the burning dwelling was in plain sight. "look at them coming, full tilt! they will be over at the turn!" shrieked bobolink, who, being near the tail end of the double line could observe what was taking place without hindrance. immediately there arose a chorus of loud shouts, as of warning. but apparently hank seeris must have been indulging in more liquor than was good for him; or else he happened to be in an unusually reckless state. "they're going over!" howled bobolink. "smash!" "oh! there goes our only engine to the scrap heap!" exclaimed jud elderkin, in dismay; for his father happened to be the foreman, and it looked just then as though the gallant fireman might be without a job. paul ran back, as did most of the boys, thinking that something terrible must have happened. the plunging horses had been pulled down, and a man was already sitting on the head of each to keep them from kicking further. there are generally some wise persons present in such a calamity, who know just what ought to be done. willing hands were already unhitching the horses, so that they could be taken out of the way, and the ditched engine upraised. "where's hank, the driver! is he hurt?" asked some one; and paul recognized the old minister, who must have been on the way home from visiting when the alarm burst out, and hence he had accompanied the fire fighters, eager to lend a hand at the rescue work. "here he is, and just comin' to, after being knocked senseless. hank ain't hurted, i reckon," answered a citizen who had run with the machine. "how about the engine--is she much damaged?" asked the foreman, as men set about raising the heavy rescue no. . "out of business for this trip, elderkin. she'll never work again till she's gone down to the city for repairs," came the answer. a groan of dismay went up. "that settles the fate of the old bradley house, then," declared many, as they saw the flames and smoke apparently increasing. everybody was now anxious to get on the scene, and the engine was left in charge of a watcher, while the crowd rushed along, exchanging views of the accident, and the chances of saving the building by means of a bucket brigade. the foreman proved himself to be the right man in the right place. he instantly organized a double line of men and boys, leading from the creek near by, up to the house that was burning. every imaginable species of bucket and tin pail was pressed into use. men and boys invaded the kitchen and captured all sorts of utensils, from milkpans to butter firkins. these were put into use, and passed along as rapidly as those at the creek end could plunge them in, and fill them with water. at the other terminus the foreman and his assistants took the water pails, and dashed the contents here and there as opportunity arose. the boy scouts were nearly all somewhere in the line, and working valorously. for the time being they utterly forgot they were dressed in their new suits of khaki, and that the pails slopped over continuously, soon soaking them to the skin. cheered on by the appeals of their leader they never flinched. it was the first chance paul had of seeing how his enlisted followers could forget self, and rise grandly to an occasion. when any one showed signs of tiring he was quickly crowded out of the line by another eager willing worker. indeed, there seemed to be three applicants for each job; and had there been more buckets several lines might have been formed to make use of that accommodating creek. jack, after a little, found himself pushed aside by another scout, who wanted to exercise his muscles, and could wait no longer. seeing a group around some children, and hearing sudden cries from a woman, jack hurried across the lawn. somehow he seemed to fear that new trouble had broken out; and when he saw a half-clad figure wringing her hands, and shrieking, he realized that his suspicions were going to prove true. "what is it?" he asked, of another scout, coming away from the group. "her baby. she says it is in the house!" replied the boy, whose face was white with the horror of it all. "what?" cried jack; "did she forget her own baby, then?" "she thought her husband had it. he's a sick man too. see, that's him they are holding back there. he wants to go in for the baby, and they won't let him. oh! jack, i'd like to do it, but i'm afraid of fire. i just dassent!" sobbed the boy. jack waited to hear no more. his blood seemed to be on fire, and his teeth came together with a click. another moment and he was in the group, eagerly plying the almost distracted mother with questions as to which room her baby had been in. fortunately jack had once known a boy living in the old bradley mansion; so that the interior of the house was not strange to him. "our bedroom--it is the corner one where the tower stands. the one that has the alcove!" the lady managed to cry, as she caught his arm, and looked, oh, so pleadingly, in his boyish, determined face. after that jack would have risked anything in the attempt to save that innocent little one. he rushed off without saying a word. several put out a hand to stop him, under the belief that it was useless, since that portion of the building seemed to be a mass of flames by now. but jack dodged them just as he did when running with the ball on the football field. when he dashed into the house, disappearing in the volume of smoke that poured from the open doorway, a groan went up from the great crowd; for they doubted as to whether he would ever be seen alive again. chapter xv the honor brand "he's gone!" "who was that boy?" called the foreman of the fire company, as he came running up, waving his speaking trumpet. "jack stormways, the lumber man's boy!" some one answered. "well, he's a good one, all right; but i'm sorry for his mother!" said the experienced fire-fighter, as he looked anxiously at the flames pouring out from several windows directly under the room next the tower. paul had dropped out of the line. he could not pass another bucket after seeing the chum he loved so well plunge into the doomed building. from right and left he heard many things spoken, and presently understood what it was induced jack to attempt what seemed so like a foolhardy thing. so it would have been, had the object of jack's attempt been the securing of valuables, no matter what the amount. but a human life counts for more than earthly riches; and a brave soul never stops to consider the risk when a fellow being is in peril of a terrible fate. jack found himself in the midst of dense smoke as soon as he plunged across the doorsill. he had foreseen this, and with a wisdom beyond his years made simple preparations to combat the evil. on the way to the door he passed close by one who carried a bucket of water, and some happy inspiration caused him to snatch out his handkerchief and dip it into the cool liquid, not wringing it out to any extent. this he clapped over his nose, so that in breathing the wet cloth would keep much of the suffocating vapor from being drawn into his lungs. his eyes began to smart furiously. by the time he was half way up the stairs he could not see a thing around him save murky clouds of smoke, lighted by the tongues of flame that darted like serpents out of many places. he staggered up still further, and fell on the landing. but gaining his feet again he pushed on, still heading in the right direction. only for the knowledge he possessed regarding the interior of the building, jack would have lost his bearings then and there. the result must have been serious indeed. along the hall he went. it seemed to grow hotter the further he pushed; but even that did not daunt him. once enlisted in a good cause he must go on, no matter what faced him. had not paul said words to that effect, after telling them what it meant to be a tried and true scout? and here the opportunity had come to him not half an hour after the thrilling words were spoken! those outside while still sending the buckets of water along, in the effort to save one portion of the large house, were waiting to see what came of jack's attempt at rescue. "he's lost!" declared one, as the fire broke out in a new place; "see, that's the tower burning now, and she said the baby was in the room next there." "poor old jack! to think it should be him to go!" groaned bobolink; "see, paul, there's his father passing the buckets along. he don't even know his boy is in the old shack! oh! my, whatever did he take chances like that for?" "because he couldn't stand and see that poor mother shrieking for her baby. because he's got the strongest heart of us all! that's why!" declared paul, his voice vibrating with love for the chum he might never see alive again. and bobolink said to himself: "by the jumpin' jehosaphat, i believe paul would have gone if jack hadn't. he's lookin' at that house now like he wanted to run right in and tear it to flinders." "there he is at the window!" whooped a man's heavy voice. instantly every eye ranged along the front of the building, wherever the columns of smoke permitted. and many a finger was pointed at the one where a waving hat served to draw attention. "he's shouting something. keep still, everybody!" a dead silence immediately ensued. only the roaring and crackling of the hungry flames could be heard, as every ear was strained to catch what it was the imperiled boy was saying. "he's got the baby--look! he's holding her up!" a shriek came from the agonized mother, and she fell on her knees with clasped hands. "listen to what he says!" "go to back of house--get ladder to window there!" called jack huskily, at the top of his voice. "hurrah! we understand, old fellow! we'll have you out of that yet!" whooped bobolink, starting on the run around the end of the mansion. "a ladder--bring it around, boys! let's save the brave youngster!" howled the tall foreman. the ladder happened to be up against the building at a point where the flames had now burst forth, driving the fire-fighters back. himself, the foreman led in a bold forward rush to capture the required ladder; nor was he to be denied, scorning the efforts of the licking tongues of fire to daunt him. then, with a swarm of followers, he pushed around the corner. here, to be sure, there did seem to be less of smoke and blaze, owing to the direction of the night wind. now they were placing the ladder. it reached up to a window, and if only jack would show himself all might be well. seconds were like an eternity to those who crowded below, every face upturned, and every eye ranging along the side of the house. the fire was pushing in this direction too, for it suddenly burst out of a broken window. from many pairs of lips there burst a groan. well did they know that every second counted against the boy, who was doubtless groping his way along halls and through rooms filled with that overpowering smoke. "there he is!" it was like a sudden electric shock, that cry. the clarion notes of a bugle would not have thrilled that vast crowd one half so surely as did the appearance of a head at a window on the left. jack had been shrewd enough to pick out a room that was further away from the devouring flames. a hoarse shout went up at sight of him. "he's got the baby too!" was the tenor of that victorious cry; and it was as though every man and boy and other person present felt a personal interest in the success of jack's daring venture. the precious baby was saved; yes, he was hugging the bundle to his breast; and during a lull in the clamor they plainly heard the lusty cries that proceeded from that shawl-wrapped package. those were doubtless the most blessed sounds that ever reached the strained ears of the praying mother. quickly was the ladder lifted and rushed along the wall of the house until it stood beneath the window where jack had shown himself. the foreman himself mounted as soon as it was in position. but jack refused to hand over his burden, nor could mr. elderkin insist. it was only right that the one who had saved the little darling should have the pleasure of placing her in the arms of the frantic mother. but he could and did guide jack's feet as they sought the rounds of the friendly ladder, so that presently the boy, with singed hair, and begrimed with smoke, was lifted to the ground. hardly had jack landed than a pair of arms encircled both him and the baby; for in that happy moment the mother realized what she owed this brave lad; and her heart was brimming over with gratitude. such shouts as went up then! those still coming to the scene must have thought the wearers of the fire hats had succeeded in running a line of hose into a position where victory was assured. again the bucket brigade got busy, working with renewed zeal, though but little hope of saving any portion of the big building now remained. but every one was roused up to fever pitch by the excitement of the hour. and jack's valiant work had helped inspire them to renewed deeds of endeavor. paul led his chum away, for jack was almost exhausted. then came mr. stormways on the run, having just learned what his boy had done. he seized jack in his arms, and shed tears over him; though at the same time his heart must have swelled within him with satisfaction that one of his brood had acquitted himself so well in a crisis that called for a cool head and nerves of steel. the flames kept on eating into the old building. it was now doomed, and the fire laddies confined their efforts to saving any furniture that could be carried out. paul called his scouts around him, at the request of the old minister. they were rather a sorry looking group, though just as full of a desire to assist as ever. the fine new uniforms were bedraggled with mud and water. several had holes burned in their coats, and that of jack was a sight to behold. but who cared? after all, the uniforms were but an insignia of their connection with a great organization. new or old they stood for a principle; and gallantly had stanhope troop no. responded when the need arose. the old and highly respected minister, whose heart was filled with a great love for the rising generation, shook hands with each and every scout, declaring that he was proud of the privilege. "don't mind the soiling of your new uniforms, lads. every mark found upon them to-morrow must serve as a badge of honor to the wearer. after this it will be the tried and true scout who can point to a burnt hole in his smart coat, and say 'i got that the night of the great fire up at bradley's!' and what shall i say of this fine member of your patrol who so bravely risked his own life to save that of a mother's baby? only that his own mother has reason to thank god to-night because of such a son. we all love him!" and a tear fell on jack's hand as the old man squeezed it. chapter xvi the fire test "all here, paul!" jack saluted as he said this, and smiled to see the look the scout leader gave his scorched and discolored uniform. although jack had spent an hour and more that morning trying to clean up his suit and leggins, they showed many signs of the hard service to which they had been put on the previous night. several of the fellows carried cameras. they had signed for the photographic test, and hoped to get some fine views of the troop in action. these would possibly be entered for competition when the other commands in the county lined up to strive for leadership in the last great event--the winning of the banner. presently the town clock struck the hour. "fall in!" two by two they marched out of town. people came to the doors to watch them; and many a girl waved her handkerchief vigorously. but there was no response. much as some of the lads might have liked to raise a hat, and send back an answering salute, they had already learned how to keep their eyes to the front, on penalty of being given bad marks that might tell against them later on. more than one parent looked to see how the boy nearest their hearts bore himself. proudly they watched the long double line swinging down the street, keeping excellent step, considering how little time they had had for drill. other boys there were who stood on the corners and mocked. of course these were the followers of ted slavin, envious of the popularity already attained by paul's patrol. some of them had been at the fire, and witnessed the deed of daring carried out by jack stormways. jealous of the other troop they tried to taunt them by various cries; but without success. however, most of them did not venture to tag after the marching corps. they knew that even the wonderful patience of these fellows would have its limit, and that a sudden turn might be made upon the tormentors that could hardly prove pleasant for the minority. out of the town limits they went, still keeping step. ted and ward trailed behind, but there was no more taunting done. "they mean to follow, and see what we are up to," said jack, when he came alongside the leader again. "well, we can't stop them from doing that, i suppose. the woods are free to all. let them look. if they can pick up a few pointers, well and good. when we lead, you know we can afford to laugh at those who follow," returned the other. "sure, because they'll never catch up with us in a year," laughed jack. for a full mile they continued, never once breaking ranks. "we're nearly there, fellows. you're doing fine, i tell you. keep it up through to the end. why, you march like veterans already!" in this fashion did the scout leader warm every heart, and cause those who were beginning to tire of the jaunt to grit their teeth, and resolve that nothing must be allowed to interfere with the completion of the march. "left wheel!" came the command, as the van drew abreast of an opening where a wagon road entered the woods. still those two curious ones trailed in the rear, determined to ascertain what it was that took the fox patrols out of town this day. presently, surrounded by the giant trees, still green with their summer foliage, paul gave the command to halt and break ranks. immediately the twenty-six lads began fraternizing. those owning cameras started to look around for openings where some promising view offered. but most of the scouts clustered around the leader, eager to hear what the programme of the day would embrace. "first comes the fire test. there are a dozen fellows who have come prepared to qualify for that. and i think we shall have an interesting competition. here, all who have hatchets get busy, and cut wood." paul himself led the way, for he delighted in using the little camp axe which he often "toted" into the woods, when hunting or camping. the sound of chopping soon resounded through the timber, and by degrees quite a pile of wood had been accumulated. but all this was simply to loosen up the muscles of the competitors; for they were not to be allowed to use any of this fuel, which was for the main campfire. once this had been started, paul distributed a dozen tin kettles that had been brought along. these were all of the same size. moreover, they had a plain mark two-thirds of the way up, which was to limit the amount of cold water from the near-brook which they must contain. "here are five matches for each one of you. every fellow is placed on his honor not to have a single other one in his possession. you are not to use any kind of paper in kindling your fires. just imagine that you are adrift in the wilderness, where a newspaper is never seen. and in the end when a kettle begins to boil the owner of it must shout and raise his hand. i will have inspectors appointed whose duty it will be to see that all is fairly done." "don't we get more than these five matches?" asked one of the contestants. "that is all. and remember, that if two are tied when the quart of water boils, the fellow who can show the most _unused_ matches comes in ahead. that is a valuable point, for it proves that he knows how to conserve his resources. a match is sometimes of priceless value to a man lost in the big timber." "tell us again what we must do, paul." "form a line right here. when i say 'go,' every fellow dart off to some place he has in mind. with your hatchets you are to chop wood, and get a fire started as quick as you can. then place your kettle on it, and keep on adding fuel until the water boils. i will time every contestant myself, and keep a record. but this is just a preliminary trial. we'll have another later on. ready, all?" the twelve contestants lined up, while the others watched operations. even the two outsiders had kept getting closer, so as to understand all that was done. and as ward had his gold watch in his hand it was evident that he intended to do a little timing himself. "he wants to see how our best compares with what some of his fellows will do," remarked jack, to paul. "all right. he's welcome. the more the merrier. if they have any fellow who is more at home in the woods than wallace carberry for instance, i'd just like to know it," returned the other, promptly. "how about you, paul? i guess wallace would stand a mighty poor show if he ran a race with the head scout," returned the second in command. "that's something we've never settled yet. wallace and i must have a chance at each other some day; but not yet. now watch them scurry around. every fellow has his mind made up where he can cut wood easiest. i've made them bring in all loose stuff, you see, so that they start on an even thing. here goes!" paul raised his hand, and exclaimed: "go!" immediately the dozen lads darted frantically off. several came near having a collision right in the start, which would have been fatal to their chances for winning out; since the water in their kettles must have been spilled; and according to the rules of the contest they could not refill the same without journeying to the creek, which paul had made sure was fully fifty yards distant. it was a laughable, as well as interesting sight. having reached the various places mentally selected as the scene of their intended operations in fire building, the boys set down their kettles, and commenced to feverishly whack away at dead branches, or other wood. in several instances two of them happened to pick out the same place, and naturally there was considerable rivalry between them, as well as an exchange of remarks intended to irritate and delay. "look at wallace, will you!" observed jack, presently; "nearly all the others have smoke going, but he's chipping away as steadily as you please. why, he seems in no hurry at all. i guess he doesn't want to come in ahead!" "wait, my boy," laughed paul. "you don't know that sly fox. he's up to all the dodges at fire making, and believes in a good start. some of those smokes never will amount to much, for they just struggle along, and threaten to go out because it takes all the puffing the fellows can give to keep them alive. now he's going to strike up. only one match needed with wallace, you see." "and how his blaze jumps! you were right; he made sure he had enough fine kindling first, before starting in. now he's adding larger stuff; and what's this he's doing with those stones?" "what do you suppose?" said the scout leader, nodding his head approvingly. "making a little fireplace where he can perch his kettle, and have the hottest part of his fire under it. note also that the opening is in the direction of the breeze. that allows the flame to be fanned. wallace will never have to blow out his cheeks and puff to keep his blaze going." by this time some of the contestants were bobbing their heads to ascertain just how wallace had done it; and made haste to follow suit. all were willing to take pattern from a past master who knew the wrinkles of the game. one upset his kettle, and despairing of having any show, withdrew from the race. eleven fires kept on burning, some of them under protest, apparently, for they did not give much promise of landing their unlucky builders as victors. "how long is it?" asked jack, presently, as certain signs caught his eye that told him the end was near. "just nine minutes; but--" "look at wallace," cried jack; "he's raising his hat. there goes an inspector to see. he nods his head. the water must be boiling; and who would have thought it? hurrah for the carberry twin! look at ted and ward! they act as if they thought there was some trickery, for they're running up to see. i guess they've tried this game, and come in under the wire in about fifteen minutes. hello! there's bluff calling out. good boy! he's going to run wallace a race next time. but i'd like to see you make the test, paul?" chapter xvii clearing skies paul made no reply to this remark of his chum. having studied the charms of outdoor life always, he knew that he would be placing his friends under a heavy handicap if he ever attempted to compete with them in woodlore. true, just as he said, wallace was somewhat of an unknown quantity; for he, too, seemed to have a deep love for everything connected with life in the forest, and never tired of reading books that told of pioneers and their ways. the scout leader immediately started some of the boys along another tack. they were given a chance to find a lost trail, to detect all manner of signs such as would be apt to tell how long previously some one had passed that way; and to discover where the tracks came out of the creek, upon the bed of which the unknown had walked quite some distance. of course, paul had made the trail himself in the morning, running out here on his wheel so as to prepare the ground. and when they all failed to find out just how the party had left the creek, since the marked tracks did not seem to appear anywhere along the banks, he pointed to where the limb of a tree hung down over the water. "that's the ticket!" cried bobolink, excitedly. "see, fellows, how it's skinned where his shoes scraped along it." "as sure as shooting he climbed up into that tree!" declared one, excitedly. "then scatter, and examine the ground around the trunk!" said paul. a minute or so later a happy whoop announced that one of the searchers had discovered the wished-for signs; and away the whole troop went on a trot, following the leader. meanwhile the photographers managed to get in some of their efforts, possibly unbeknown to the rest. exposures where the subjects are unconscious of their posing always turn out best; since they avoid stiffness, such as ruins so many otherwise interesting pictures. here, with the woods for a background, paul, acting by agreement as temporary scout master, drilled his followers in scout law, sign, salute, and the significance of the badges which they wore, all of them, of course, of the tenderfoot type, since few had as yet started to qualify for any higher plane. signal flags had been brought along; and a class in semaphore work proved that some of the members of the troop were making rapid progress along that line. they had mastered the morse code, too; and had the occasion arisen might have sent messages over the wire, although probably none save paul could have received the same, unless the words came painfully slow. the afternoon passed almost before they realized it; and more than a few declared that the sun must have dropped like a plummet, when they found twilight creeping upon the forest. both ted and ward had long since gone away, as though disgusted. they had tried to sneer at the work of stanhope troop no. ; but every one knew this humor was assumed; and that secretly they were eating their very hearts out for envy. no doubt there would be a hot time among their followers, when the leaders endeavored to drive them to beat the record wallace carberry had set in his fire starting, and water-boiling test. "suppose you come to supper with me, paul," suggested jack, when they were more than half way back to town, with the double column moving along like clockwork, every right leg thrust out in unison, as though forming a part of a well-regulated machine. paul looked quickly at him when jack said this. "oh! i can see through a millstone, when it has a hole in it," he remarked. "which is one way of saying that you can guess i have a motive in asking you?" returned the other, smiling queerly; "well, i have, in fact, several. in the first place my mother told me to ask you. i rather think she wants to pump you about that affair last night. father wouldn't tell her all she wished to know. then again i'm still all broken up about those lost coins; and i thought perhaps you might have guessed the answer to the riddle." "what's that? more of them gone, jack?" asked paul, lowering his voice, so that the two scouts at the tail end of the line might not hear. "don't know yet. didn't have the nerve to go up into my den since this morning. to tell the truth that place has lost all charm for me. whenever i find myself there i get to shivering, and looking around, just like i half expected to see a ghost step out, and pick up one of those miserable coins right before my very eyes--ugh! it's horrible to feel that way, and i used to be so fond of my den, too." "oh! i hope and expect you will be again, jack, when we've settled this little thing. you say none of them were ever taken in the night?" said paul, earnestly; while his knitted brows told how much he felt concerned over the mystery. "certainly not. always in broad daylight. that's the queer part of it," returned the other, promptly. "sure, seeing that they always go in the daytime, and when you're away from home, too. anybody else going to be there to-night?" "to supper--oh! no. karl went off after breakfast, to visit our uncle for a few days before school commences. i took him to the train myself, and then mustered up enough courage to climb up there, and once more count the coins," went on jack. "six there then, eh?" asked paul. "just as last night. and i purposely left the door unlocked." "both door and window open in the bargain?" asked the other; at which jack looked puzzled. "of course; though that wouldn't matter at all; for any fellow could turn the knob, and walk in," he replied. "but the door was open, just like a plain invitation to enter, should anybody think of going up to see--say that again, please," continued paul. "well, i do say it again, though i can't understand why you should make that a point worth mentioning. still, i have confidence in you, paul. if anybody can get at the root of my trouble it's going to be you, old fellow." "i hope you prove a true prophet. as for myself i'm not saying anything just yet, one way or another," smiled paul. "yes, but i really believe that you've found out something that gives you a pointer, paul. your face tells me that. you're a wonder about following a trail in the woods. and i believe you see light in this darkness around me!" and jack looked eagerly into the face of his chum as he said this. "all i'm going to confess is that i believe i'm on the trail, and that it seems to be getting warmer the further i go. just hold your horses a little while longer, jack, and perhaps i may be able to tell you something." "the way you smile gives me new courage, old fellow. oh! i will be so glad if only it turns out all right. but here we are at the smithy. shall you dismiss the troop here, paul?" "yes. the boys must be pretty tired after last night's work, and this hike; as well as the many stunts they went through with," and the temporary master scout presently gave the order to break ranks, and head for home. "drop in at my house so i can tell my folks not to expect me to dinner," said paul, as they approached his home. there was not the slightest objection to the programme as arranged. his parents trusted paul fully, knowing that, while as fond of fun as the next lad, he never did things likely to get him into trouble. "now, first of all," remarked paul, after they were indoors again; "let's go up, and make sure that anything has happened." the door to jack's den stood wide open, inviting any one to enter. jack had a match lighted in his hand, and with this he quickly touched the wick of a lamp. paul heard him draw a long breath as he approached the spot where the little box lay upon the table desk at which stood the chair used by the owner of the den when taking his leisure here. he bent over, and seemed to be counting the coins. they dropped back into the receptacle one by one, and with such a ringing sound that even paul was able to keep tally. then jack turned an anxious and white face around. "paul, there are only four here. two more have gone!" he said. "yet you came up here and counted them; you are positive of that?" demanded paul. "i counted them, and there were six. five times i did it, to be sure; yet you saw that there were only four just now?" "you came up here after you saw karl off on the train?" persisted his chum. "yes, after i returned from the station. but what makes you ask that? tell me why you are grinning so, paul? i know i'm awfully dull just now, but who could blame me under the circumstances? please speak up!" jack insisted. "why, don't you see, this clears karl completely. six here while he was riding away on the train this morning; and two taken when he is fifty miles away! don't that satisfy you it wasn't your brother, after all, jack?" and jack dropped down in that chair, letting his head fall in his hands, while a great joy overspread his face. chapter xviii carlo does his turn "paul, you're a wizard, i do believe!" said jack, after a bit, as he looked up at his chum. "well, i hardly think so. this thing was easy; and ten to one you'd have thought of it sooner or later. for how could karl have anything to do with the bad business while he was up at your uncle's?" laughed the other, with his customary modesty. "but if not karl, then who got my old coins?" persisted jack, smiling now. "well, i'm not quite ready to say. i've got two ideas i'm chasing after now. give me just a little more time on that, will you, old fellow?" replied the visitor, as he dropped down on a cot, and let his eyes rove along the exhibit of college colors illuminating the walls. he drew the little box that held the coins toward him. when jack was not observing, paul took the contents out, one by one, and seemed to be examining them closely. he even scratched one with his finger nail, and the result appeared to please him, for he chuckled softly. evidently he had made a discovery which he deemed important. jack, having finished some little task with which he had busied himself, came back to his chum. "see here, paul," he remarked; "i'm not going to ask you to tell me who it is you suspect; but do i know him?" "sure," replied his chum; "and perhaps after we've found out the wonderful secret, you may even find it in your heart to look on it as a joke, and forgive him." "you don't say? perhaps, though, i might hardly feel like forgiving a fellow who would be mean enough to sneak up here so often, and take my old coins. think of the ugly feelings he's made me have toward my own brother. i'll never look karl in the eye after this without feeling conscience-stricken. i don't know about forgiving him so easy as all that," grumbled jack. "oh! well, don't cross a bridge till you come to it. that's a good motto for you and for me. perhaps there are times when i feel the need of it. perhaps there's one right now," and paul shrugged his shoulders as he spoke, half laughingly. "there, i knew that something had gone wrong with you lately. i've watched you when you thought i wasn't looking, and i've seen you frown. suppose you take your old chum into your confidence, paul? what's happened? any trouble at home? are you bothered over the boy scout troop we've been organizing? is it about your school affairs?" paul shook his head each time the other brought forward a suggestion. "you're a most determined fellow, jack," he said, good naturedly; "and perhaps i hadn't ought to speak of such a thing to anybody; but we've been chums so long, and misery likes company, you know." "then you _are_ in trouble; and you mean to confess to me? thank you, paul, for what you say. i don't think i ever had any cause for worrying that i didn't come straight to you for comfort. and i always got it, too." "even when you and dorothy had that nasty little spat that began to look serious until i just happened to find the note that made all the trouble, and forced eli kosmer to confess he wrote it. you remember that time, jack?" "i guess i do. dorothy often speaks of it to this day; for we're good friends, and always will be. but see here, why do you just happen to mention that business? oh! i begin to see now," added jack, as paul turned red in the face, and laughed in a rather constrained way. "i shouldn't wonder but what you did. i'm sure i've denied every other cause you could think of," he said, sighing heavily. "it's arline then. she's been doing something. yes, i remember now that i saw her out riding with ward kenwood only yesterday. say, that dude has been saying something that wasn't true about you, paul, i'd just wager anything. he's gone and poisoned her ears with a yarn. it'd be just like the sneak!" "just go slow, jack. you're saying something that you can't prove. of course i believe myself that ward wouldn't stop at anything like that; but without the least proof i can't accuse him of it," paul said, severely. "but you could ask arline?" his friend went on. "could i? well, when a girl chooses to turn me down without a hearing, and even smiles when she drives past me in the company of a fellow she knows i detest, and whom she has often said she disliked, what then? think i would so far forget myself as to get down on my knees, and beg her to take me back into favor? bah!" "is it so bad as that then? oh well, there are other girls just as pretty as arline; and you've always been a great favorite with them, paul; but hold on, why not let me try to straighten this thing out? you've helped me all right; and tit for tat is fair play." "h'm! how do you think you could do anything, jack? i don't suppose you'd care to go straight to her, and ask her point blank what i'd done to make her treat me so cruelly? i shouldn't think of allowing that at all?" paul tried to display an air of indifference; but it was poorly assumed; and his chum knew full well that he was much more pained at these strange actions on the part of arline than he cared to admit. "oh! there are ways and ways. for instance, you know that dorothy is one of the crowd of high school girls arline goes with. ward's sister mazie is another; and that might account for her being at his house so much. now, suppose you let me tell dorothy. she'll keep it a dead secret, and in some way manage to get a confession. say you will, paul!" "have it your own way, old fellow. i'm just about ready to wash my hands of the whole business. besides, i've really too many irons in the fire to be bothering over the silly notions of girls." it was bravely put, but did not deceive jack even a little bit; for he happened to know just how very fond his friend was of the particular girl in question. "all right, then. consider that settled, and i won't say any more about it until i can report progress," remarked the latter. "let's talk of other things than my poor affairs. you insisted on knowing; and wouldn't take no for an answer. hello! there's carlo asking to come in again. shall i let him past the door, jack?" "why, of course. this is his den as well as mine. i keep sugar on tap, so as to put him through some of his paces. here carlo, how's your sweet tooth coming on?" and jack snapped his fingers in a peculiar way. immediately the educated dog squatted on his hind quarters, sat upright with his forepaws drooping appealingly, and waited, cocking his eyes in a humorous way at his young master, who had opened a drawer in his desk. "just one piece left. somebody else likes sugar as well as carlo, i guess. well, here you are, now. on trust, boy, on trust!" so saying he laid the piece of sugar upon the nose of the dog, balancing it so there could be no falling off. carlo, knowing what was expected of him, sat there like a drum major, quivering with eagerness, yet not daring to move as long as he failed to hear the command. "say, isn't he a sport, all right, paul? don't he sit up like a soldier? look at his eyes fixed on me. did you ever see such agony?" paul was laughing now. "he's speaking with his eyes, and begging you not to stretch it out too far, jack. have a little mercy on the poor beggar. look at his tongue coming out and reaching up. i think he just wants to taste that sugar. give it to him now!" "well, carlo knows that he can't expect to have anything on trust; but it's a different thing when it's paid for!" with the last two words, spoken in a natural tone, carlo became galvanized into sudden action. he had received the cue for which he was waiting so patiently. immediately he made an upward spring; the lump of sugar was thrown into the air, and as it came down one quick snap secured it, after which there was a crunching of canine teeth, and a look of bliss appeared on carlo's dog face. "there's the supper gong. come on down to the bathroom and wash up, paul! and you come, too, old dog. no more sugar here; see, the drawer is empty. carlo never comes up here without sniffing at that drawer, and looking at me knowingly. go ahead, paul, and i'll put out the lamp." so they went downstairs, and after a while sought the dining room, where paul met both parents of his chum, as well as a gentleman who was visiting mr. stormways. "mr. jared pender, an old schoolmate of mine, and with whom i made several voyages abroad years ago," said mr. stormways. "he is in the employ of the government now, and has to make visits all over the country, you know." paul had once met a gentleman who was a post-office inspector, and somehow took it for granted that mr. pender might be engaged in some similar business; at any rate it concerned him not at all he concluded, just what the gentleman's private affairs might be, and he gave the subject little thought. chapter xix the warning over the wire after supper the two boys once more ascended to the snuggery near the roof. there was no further reference made to either the disappearance of the old coins, or paul's little heart trouble with his girl chum. they had a number of books loaned them by the good old minister and which were full of interesting facts connected with the wonderful boy scout movement, especially over in england, where it originated. paul was deeply interested in picking out all features that would appeal to american lads. until they had found the right party to take the position of troop master he wished to play the part of scout leader in such fashion that no one could pick a flaw with his management. usually it is some adult to whom this important position is entrusted from the start; paul, however, had long been known to be so deeply interested in many of the branches which concern life in the open, that his mates were only too glad to have him occupy the exalted position of leader for the time being. when they knew as much as paul did, they believed they would be well qualified to pass for a first-class scout's assignment. so paul, with the assistance of his comrade, was selecting many interesting competitions. by means of these the boys could be tested as to their knowledge of those things so important to the boy scouts. he made many charts showing the different footprints of wild animals, as well as those of the domestic cat and dog. by following the tracks of a rabbit a most interesting as well as instructive story could be made out. it was possible just from the marks on the ground, or the snow, to tell how the animal had been frightened into wild flight, by what sort of enemy it had been pursued, where the swoop of owl or eagle had brought specks of blood upon the leaves or white snow, and finally the picked bones of poor bunny would reveal the secret of the windup of the chase. so, in every case, the student of nature could weave a story out of the marks discovered. it was so in the days of the indian, when old leatherstocking and his long-barreled rifle were leading factors in the life of the wilds. daniel boone and his pioneers used to read such signs as easily as any boy might the pages of this book. and the deeper any lad dips into such fascinating studies the more he wants to learn. when half past nine came paul said he must be going. "i've had a jolly evening of it, jack, and enjoyed every minute with you. when we get the boys together again we can have half a dozen competitions going on at once," he said as he arose and stretched himself. "that's so," replied the other, following suit; while even carlo arched his broad back, and prepared to follow them downstairs; "and the best of this thing is that the more you go into it the greater it gets. i'm fairly wild to keep it up." just as the boys reached the lower floor the telephone bell rang, and jack, being near, stepped over to the small table in the hall on which the receiver rested. "yes, sure, he's here. hold the wire," paul heard him say, as he smiled; and then turning to his friend jack continued: "here, paul, take hold. somebody wants to talk with you. says he called up your house, and they told him you were over at my home." paul of course wondered who could be wanting him so positively that he even followed him over to the stormways house. "hello! hello!" he said, quietly. "that you, paul?" "it's bobolink, i guess," remarked paul, for the benefit of his chum who stood by, listening curiously. "that's right," continued the voice over the wire. "what's doing to make you chase me up this way, number three?" paul went on. "that's the trouble; i just don't know for sure. but when i caught ted's voice among the bunch i said to myself, they're up to no good; and i bet it's paul they are laying for." "hey! what's that? who's laying for me, and where?" demanded the startled boy. "listen, and i'll tell you all i learned. 'taint much, but i know that critter so well that i wouldn't put it past him to try and knock you out, so that all our drilling in the woods would be upset, and his crowd get an advantage." "oh! bosh! what's this you're giving me, bobolink?" "yes, i expected you'd say that. think i'm stringing you, don't you, paul? but i'm not, all the same. listen again. perhaps ted and two of his cronies have gone and dressed up in some old hallowe'en toggery until they look like a set of bears or hyenas just to frolic around a bit. well, mebbe they have; but tell me just why they are hiding close to _your_ place?" continued the talkative yet determined bobolink. "when did you see them?" demanded the other. "not more'n eight minutes ago, paul. was comin' home myself. been over to bluff's house to fix up some surprises we expect to play on all you fellers later on, and show you what we know about this scoutin' business. on the way home i turned in and passed your house. often come that way, you know," and the speaker paused as if for breath, or to hear paul admit the fact. "sure. go on, you slow turtle. you've got me keyed up now to my top-notch curiosity. give us the rest of the yarn," said paul, eagerly. "yarn! h'm! there you go, making out i'm hatching up a story. but take my word for it, paul, three fellers are hidin' in the bushes close to your place, and expectin' some one to pass along in the dark. they started to jump out at me, and then i heard ted's voice growlin' to 'em to fade away, that it wasn't the right one. thought i'd just ask you if you could explain what it meant. when your mother told me you was over with jack i saw a light, and that's what." "well, i'm glad you told me, bobolink. a good scout is always on the alert to do his comrade a clever turn; and i won't forget this. that all?" "but now i've told you, paul, aren't you goin' to slip around the back way, and let them fellers take it out waitin'? three to one is too much. they'll do you up, and make out 'twas only horseplay. please give 'em the slip, paul. we need you in our business, you know." "i'll see about it, bobolink. thanks, good-bye!" and paul switched off. "well, what's all this about?" asked jack, as his chum turned toward him, with a frown on his face, and a gleam in his eye that the other knew stood for grim determination. "he says there are three fellows lying in wait in the bushes near my place, all rigged up in their hallowe'en toggery; and that he believes they know i am over at your house. that's all," remarked paul, with a little nervous laugh, and a clinching of his hands. "good gracious! you don't say; three of them waiting to pounce on you! did he seem to know who they were?" asked jack, looking worried. "well, you might guess that easy enough," replied paul, scornfully. "ted slavin and some of his ugly ducklings?" "bobolink says he recognized ted's voice. and, i suppose my warm friend ward is one of the others. he never loses a chance to get a dig in at me." "i don't know," returned jack, thoughtfully; "to tell the honest truth i hardly think he can be one of the bunch, because his sister took arline home with her to supper; and i guess ward couldn't be coaxed out while _she_ is there." paul winced, but said nothing. "oh! well, it doesn't matter much after all. they're a lot of cowards, or else they wouldn't be concerned in such a low game. you can give them the slip by going around the back way," and jack chuckled at the thought of those silly fellows waiting an hour or two for the expected victim who never came, and then going home in sheer disgust. paul shook his head. "now, that's just what bobolink said, too; but i've made up my mind that i'm not going to sneak home, like a dog with his tail between his legs," he said, shutting his teeth hard together. "you mean that you'll take the street that leads to the front of your house? oh i well, they'll hardly tackle us when they see there are two," remarked jack. "and by that you mean you expect to go along. i won't let you do anything of the kind. even if they allowed us to pass by, don't you think they'd be apt to take it out of you when you returned alone? no, i'm your superior officer, and i order you to stop right here where you belong; do you understand, jack?" "well," grumbled jack, shaking his head as if convinced against his will; "i know you too well to try and go up against you when your mind's made up; but just the same i think it's a mean shame that you won't let me walk home with you. think if they did jump out at us what a jolly time we'd have handing 'em more than they expected." "give it up, old fellow. but i tell you what i can do. you remember that baseball bat of mine that's been lying over here so long? i'll carry it home now, and save you the trouble, thank you," nodded paul. "bully! a good idea. here it is behind the door. and paul, don't spare the measly bunch; but whack 'em good and hard." chapter xx such glorious luck paul walked down the street, swinging the baseball bat carelessly, and softly whistling to himself. he left the street on which his chum's house fronted, and presently came to his own thoroughfare. "h'm!" he said to himself, as he boldly turned in here; "looks kind of half dark for a fact; but that always suits fellows up to a mean dodge. i musn't hit too hard, for this is an awful tough old bat, that has brought me in more than a few home-runs. well, it's helping me make one now," and he actually snickered at the conceit. as he advanced he braced himself for the expected fray. of old he knew ted slavin was a muscular fellow, capable of enforcing obedience from his slavish followers. what was that? he certainly heard the sound of voices a little further along. and somehow one of them seemed to give paul a strange feeling; for he was positive that it was a girl's tones; and he recognized them too! ward kenwood was taking arline home; and for some unknown reason chose to select this very street as a part of his route, although it was a little out of the way. how strange that they should all come together just at that very identical spot, where the trio of ambushed boys were crouching, ready to spring out. ah! paul caught sight of something moving close by. he felt sure that it must be the concealed fellows, launching their boom. yes, now he could make out their figures as they emerged from the bushes on the jump. some one screamed. it must be arline, frightened by the appearance of these ugly, uncouth forms dancing upon the pavement. instantly the greatest confusion existed, with the ambushers attacking paul, to shout in consternation when he began to thump them heartily on the legs and backs with his baseball bat; and the girl standing there trying to shut out, with her clasped hands, the strange sight, seen so dimly in the half darkness. the patter of feet down the street told only too well where her protector had gone; but he was valiantly calling lustily for help as he ran. met by such a determined opposition, overwhelmed by the shower of punches and whacks that seemed to be freighted with painful reminders; and startled by the cries of the fleeing ward, not to mention the little shrieks of arline, the three boys who had been the cause of all this excitement soon had enough. "skip out, fellers!" roared ted, as he almost doubled up when the swinging bat came with considerable force against his ribs. the others were only too willing to obey. away they clattered after the fleeing ward, who, hearing what he took to be a hot pursuit, let loose more vigorously than ever, still crying for assistance. paul was laughing now, for the comical side of the thing seemed to have occurred to him. he took out a match and struck it. as the light flamed up, arline, who had by now ceased her cries of alarm, possibly guessing the truth, stared at the face of the victor. "oh! paul! is it you?" she said; and somehow he seemed to understand that she was more than glad of the opportunity to make up with him. boylike he pretended to hold back, and as the light went out, leaving them once more in the gloom, he remarked: "yes, those fellows were lying in wait for me. they expected to give me a sound thumping; but i was warned and ready. i'm sorry that you were annoyed by the row, miss blair. i'll stay here with you until your company comes back. i think he must have gone for help!" this with some bitterness and scorn. she moved closer to him. possibly the darkness made her afraid; and then again some other cause may have influenced her. paul felt her hand on his arm, and was thrilled when she said: "please don't mention him to me again. oh! what a miserable coward, to run off and leave a girl that way. won't _you_ take me home, paul?" he could not say anything for a minute, he was so overcome. and perhaps arline thought he must still be angry because she had treated him so shabbily of late. "please, please do, paul. i want to tell you how sorry i am for believing what came to me in a roundabout way. i'll never forgive myself, never!" she went on, clinging to his arms. paul could hold out no longer. "of course i will, arline, and glad of the chance. come on before anybody hurries out to see what all this noise means." so they walked down the street together, paul with his faithful bat tucked under one arm, and a pretty girl clinging, oh! so confidingly to the other. but the boys of stanhope often made more or less of a noise on the streets after dark, being filled with exurberant spirits; and so no one thought it worth while to investigate what all the racket meant. paul heard what had been carried to the ears of arline, and had no trouble in proving to her complete satisfaction that he was entirely innocent of the charge. "and to think that i allowed myself to believe it," said the girl, almost crying; "oh! paul, will you ever forgive me? nothing can ever make me listen to anything wrong about you again. i wonder if he had a hand in hatching that wretched story up. if i knew it i would tell him to his face what i thought of him!" "you mean ward. please don't do that. i really can't believe any fellow would be so mean and low. it must have been just accident that coupled my name with that affair. but i'm satisfied if you say we're going to be just as good friends as ever," paul said, warmly. "better than ever, i hope, paul. i've had my lesson. it will never happen again, i promise you," she answered, pressing his arm as she spoke. so paul saw her safely to her door, and then said good-night; but arline insisted upon shaking hands with him; and the tingle of his fingers as he walked down the street made him laugh with joy. "what luck!" he kept saying to himself, as he made out to shake his own hand; "and what a mess of it ward made of his chances. he thought to have the laugh on me if we met, and here the shoe is on the other foot. oh! i'm not complaining a little bit. everything's coming my way now." nothing further happened on his way home. but when he reached the house his father met him with the announcement that jack was holding the wire, and waiting for him. "on deck there!" he said, briskly, and heard an exclamation of relief. "how is it, paul? anything doing? seemed to me i heard an awful racket over your way; but the nine-forty train was just coming in at the station, and drowned it out. did they tackle you, son?" demanded jack, eagerly. "did they? well, i guess some! ask ted," chuckled the one addressed. "you're laughing, and that tells me you enjoyed the circus. what did you do to poor old ted and his cronies, paul?" entreated the other. "i could tell you easier what i didn't do to 'em, jack. i gave the boys about every style of punch and jab i could think of, and with my home-run bat too. oh! make up your mind they're going to be a sore lot in the morning. and if you run up against ted, just sniff the air for arnica. my word for it, he'll empty the bottle to-night on his bruises." "bully! bully! and again bully! i would have rushed to assist you only you made me promise to keep my hands off; and you're my superior officer, you see. besides, i reckoned that with such a hunky-dory bat you'd be able to give just pie, which you did, paul." "but the half hasn't been told yet," went on the narrator. "what! do you mean there's a sequel to this story?" asked jack, burning with eagerness apparently, to hear. "i guess that's what it is. listen. ward was just taking a young lady home. he chose to pass along our street, though now he wishes he hadn't; for they arrived just when ted and his backers jumped out of the bushes. she screamed, and her escort sprinted down the street for help. after i had punched and pounded the three hallowe'en left-overs from last year until they faded away, i had the pleasure of seeing the young lady to her door, yum! yum!" "hurrah! and i bet all differences are patched up again between you!" cried jack. "everything is lovely, and the goose hangs high," sang paul. "meaning poor old blundering ward. he showed himself for a coward to the girl he's sweet on. oh! my, oh! me, how is the mighty fallen. congratulations, good friend, and then more of them. so the clouds have disappeared along your horizon, just as they did on mine. i only wish i'd had a hand in clearing your skies." "so you did. you kept that baseball bat of mine until the right minute came. only for that my name might have been mud," laughed paul. "and if you'd only open your heart now, and give me a hint about the fellow you believe has been playing that trick on me with my old coins--" "just you wait a little. it's coming soon. so-long!" and with a click the connection was cut off. chapter xxi the meeting "how are you, paul?" it was mr. jared pender who came out of the post-office as paul happened to be passing the next day, and addressed the boy he had met on the preceding evening at the house of the stormways. "why, how do you do, mr. pender? been at work, i see," replied paul, with a suggestive look in the direction of the post-office. the tall dark gentleman looked a little perplexed, and followed paul's glance. then an expression of understanding passed over his face. "ah! yes, i see, you are a good guesser, paul. but please do not mention the fact to any one. we government officials sometimes have to work _sub rosa_, as the saying is; that means without any one knowing what we are at. you understand, paul?" "yes, sir, i guess i do; but i hope there's nothing wrong here at our post-office. we all think the world of mr. mygatt, and his clerks," said paul. "oh! don't mention such a thing. we have to investigate many times just to discover how smoothly things are going on. isn't that jack's dog coming out with a package of papers in his mouth? has he actually been down for the mail?" went on the gentleman. "that's carlo, all right. sometimes they give him the mail when there are no letters, as you see." "and will he carry the bundles home safely, without stopping to play with other dogs, or to fight?" "oh! carlo knows his duty. he never forgets what is expected of him. there, sir, look at him halting for a minute at the open door of the butcher shop, to wag his tail, and peep in. it smells mighty inviting to him, i wager; but will he go in? not much. see, there he goes along, heading straight for home. if another dog picked a fight with him, carlo would lay that package down, give the cur a good licking, then pick the papers up again, and trot along." "i see you know his traits well, paul," remarked the gentleman, smiling. "some of them, but not all. he's a great dog, all right, and jack's fond of him." "i suppose money couldn't buy him, then?" suggested mr. pender. "it would be useless to try it, sir, i think. will you stay long with mr. stormways?" "that i cannot say. my business may be completed in a day, and it may keep me in this vicinity for a week. that depends on circumstances. you have been around more or less, paul; do you happen to remember seeing a large red touring car, with a khaki-colored cover, and occupied by two men, one of whom has a glass eye?" paul stared at the tall gentleman, as though he thought at first the other might be joking him; but seeing not a ripple of a smile on the dark face, he changed his mind. "why, no, sir; i can't seem to remember seeing that particular car. of course red ones are common; but most of them have black tops, if any at all. some friends of yours, mr. pender?" he remarked, naturally. the gentleman allowed just a twinkle to appear in the corners of his eyes as he nodded his head, and said: "well, er--yes, very particular friends of mine, paul, and whom i would be glad to see again right now. if you happen to sight such a machine, and i am still at my old friend, stormways, i wish you would let me know about it." "i certainly will, sir; and perhaps you'd like me to speak to the gentlemen, and tell them how anxious you are to see them?" paul went on; at which the other gave a laugh. "i see you are on to me, my boy. you guess that such is the very last thing i would want you to do. now, i'm going to take you into my confidence, paul," he went on, bending his head lower, and giving a quick glance around. "yes, sir; that's very kind of you, mr. pender," said the lad, smiling. "oh! i don't know. i have an axe to grind in doing so; for i believe that you can be of assistance to me. the two men in that motor car are criminals, for whose capture i have come to this part of the country, paul." "goodness! that sounds interesting, sir. what have they been doing?" asked the young scout leader, with boyish curiosity brimming over. "i won't tell you that, paul; but they are wanted by the government. and sometimes we agents have to go about our business with great caution, in order to discover enough evidence on the suspects to convict. so, above all things, i do not wish to alarm these clever gentlemen unduly, lest they manage to hide, or get rid of the only burden of proof. in other words, as a common expression has it, i want to get them with the goods on. you understand?" "yes, sir; i think i do. and if i see or hear anything about that red car, i'll tell you. but is it true that you and jack's father were chums long ago?" "that's the positive truth, my boy," replied the agent, nodding; "why, we took several voyages together, and had lots of queer adventures. i never dreamed that my wild old friend alan would settle down to this humdrum life, as a lumber merchant, and the head of a family. but i suppose it all came of his meeting a girl. and after knowing his fine wife i don't blame him a bit; though i've kept right along in the same old groove, and see more or less of adventure." "he's a mighty fine man, and they think lots of him here," declared paul, who was amazed to learn that his chum's parent could have, once upon a time, been reckoned a wild blade. paul walked on with his lips puckered up as if whistling, and his face filled with the new interest that had taken possession of him. he had read accounts in the papers of boy scouts being concerned in many useful enterprises; and he wondered whether he and his patrol might not find a chance to assist the officers of justice in rounding up a couple of rogues who had apparently broken the laws of the land. then other things came up to draw his attention elsewhere. he ran across boys on the street, who asked dozens of questions about the many interesting features of the new organization. these were often lads who had begun to think of uniting with one of the rival troops; and paul was only too glad to give them all the information in his power. they wanted more recruits, provided the applicants were of the right sort. those their committee rejected might find solace in joining forces with ted's crowd, who, not being at all particular, would receive them with open arms. that afternoon there was another meeting in the woods, at which every member of stanhope troop no , as they now determined to call their organization, did his best to be present. paul had given several of the boys duties to perform, that were part and parcel of the grand scheme to whip his company into first-class shape in a shorter time than it had taken any other troop. reports were received and filed of numerous things done which would count in the final summing up. these were to be accompanied by vouchers from the persons interested, which could be filed away for inspection when the committee appointed by the giver of the fine banner looked through the records of the several patrols competing for the prize. andy flinn and philip towns reported that they had cleaned up the beautiful green in front of the town high school, and which was generally known as the campus. it was kept mowed by the town authorities; but numerous scraps of paper and trash, blowing hither and thither in the wind, gave it an unsightly appearance. "never forget that you have taken our campus under your protecting care, numbers three and four of the gray fox patrol," said the head scout, after reading the report; "of course it is always your privilege to enlist smaller boys in the job, if you can do so without actually hiring them. that is expressly forbidden." then came wallace carberry and tom betts, telling how they had started a crusade to cover the entire town with receptacles to contain stray rubbish. half a dozen cans had already been ordered, each one of which was to have in startling red letters the significant picture of a staring eye, and followed by the words, "eat trash!" "we've got a contribution box ready, and every scout is privileged to drop in pennies and nickels that he has earned. no others accepted; and no larger amount at one time from any boy desired. have already enough to pay for two of the cans; and hope to increase the order soon!" cheers greeted this announcement. others, who had heard about the good work being started by numbers seven and eight of the red fox patrol, arose to announce that their mothers had promised to throw all sorts of opportunities for earning money in their way, if it was to be devoted to such a fine purpose. "the women's club is to bring this thing up at its next meeting. my mother says it shames them to know that the boys of the town are taking such a leading part in cleaning it up," said bobolink, when he found an opening. "who's next to report?" asked jack, who had charge of this end of the meeting; while the "honorable secretary" made notes, and filed away the various papers submitted. immediately all eyes were turned toward bobolink and bluff, which team was known as three and four. bluff started to rise, when a groan greeted him; but he was not dismayed. "our r-r-report will be d-d-delivered b-b-by my c-c-confederate!" he simply said, and subsided with a grin, as though he thought he had hoodwinked his friends. bobolink arose slowly. when he chose he could be very tantalizing; though in an emergency none might excel him in speedy action. but when he had something to tell that he knew was being eagerly awaited, he liked to keep his chums in suspense just as long as he dared. immediately all sounds died away. every one seemed to know that numbers three and four had been delegated to attempt an actual scouting trip that morning, into a hostile territory, so as to learn what progress a rival camp was making in the various degrees of efficiency. they had already heard about manchester, and a few believed that they would have little difficulty in excelling that town when it came down to an actual test. with aldine it was different. from all sources had come hints to the effect that the troop in that town was working most faithfully, with an eye on that coveted banner. and every scout in paul's patrol felt wild to know how much truth there might be in these reports. chapter xxii scouting in earnest "hurry up, old molasses! winter's coming." "hit up the pace, won't you, please, bobby?" bobolink grinned. this was apparently just what he liked. when, however, he saw a restless movement among some of the more impatient, as though they were stooping down to gather chips to shy at him, he knew the time had come to open those sphinx-like lips, and speak. "mr. chairman, ladies and gentlemen," he began, when a roar interrupted him, so that he pretended to hastily remedy his error--"i mean just gentlemen; i have the honor to report that your committee waited on the brothers of the aldine troop, though unbeknown to their keenest scouts, and watched the entire operations at their called meeting this morning." "good! fine! keep it up, old leatherstocking!" "we learned that they are working like mad to excel in all the arts that interest the scouting fraternity. competitions were being run off in every branch of the woodcraft business. we saw fires started, camps made, trails followed, boats mended, fish flies tied, rods that had been made by single members; we heard of all sorts of clever things that were being done in aldine that would give the troop marks in the grand round-up. we listened to splendid speeches from the really efficient scout master, and our hearts warmed within us toward the gallant foe against whom we must soon be pitted; just as our bones ached because we had to squat there high up in that tree over their camp, like a couple of roosting monkeys." "hear! hear! bully for our monkeys! they're all to the good!" shouted some of the more demonstrative boys, waving their hats wildly. bobolink stopped to give a few melancholy dabs at his thighs, just as though they still ached from the long service in the tree; while bluff managed to emit a series of sympathetic groans. then the orator took up his theme again; and when bobolink chose he could even run wallace carberry a warm race on the school rostrum. "some people might think that it was hardly fair in us to spy on our rivals; but we are running our troop under strictly military rules. it's always fair to try and find out what you are going to be up against when entering a competition. we are badly handicapped, because both of these other troops in the county have been working all summer; and we've got to come up from behind in our attempt to capture the prize. that's right, isn't it, fellows?" "sure! we only want to know if they're going to make a big fight; or whether they expect to have a walk-over. besides, i happen to know that there was a bald eagle from aldine watching us work yesterday. he had a field glass, and was hidden where he could see all that went on." it was jud elderkin who made this astonishing declaration; and what he said created quite a stir among the assembled scouts. "all right. we didn't go there expecting to steal any of their thunder, fellows," said bobolink. "of course not," asserted the nearest scouts. "well, how did you find it?" demanded william. "i didn't see that they had anything on us. of course they did lots of things better, because they've had a heap more experience; but there's time between now and thanksgiving for the scouts of the stanhope troop to get a move on, and shake all rivals out of their boots. that's all," and bobolink made a sudden duck to get out of the lime-light. "hurrah! well done, three and four of the red fox patrol! whenever we've got any more climbing to do, we know where to get the monkeys!" cried william, with a mock bow in the direction of the blushing bluff, and the grinning bobolink. "i congratulate the scouts on the way they carried out their mission. it was worthy of the annals of cooper. may i ask how they learned just where the camp of the aldine troop was to be pitched?" asked paul. bluff was no longer to be repressed; but sprang erect. "i d-d-discovered that they always w-w-went to a p-p-particular p-p-place; and w-w-when we s-s-saw that noble tree, why, we j-j-just l-l-looked at each other, and s-s-shook hands. then we c-c-climbed up before the f-f-first eagle f-f-flew that way. t-t-thank you gentlemen f-f-for your k-k-kind attention." "wow! he got that in pat, all right. when bluff makes up his mind to hustle he can beat the band. i move a vote of thanks to these most efficient scouts," said wallace, pushing forward. they were given with a will; after which other reports came to show what was being accomplished in numerous lines. the troop photographers produced their prints, which were passed around for examination, and brought forth an abundance of good words. to see themselves in the new suits of khaki made many a fellow's heart thrill with pride. "we must have a meeting every day up to the beginning of school," declared the acting scout master, finally; "for these busy eagles have stolen a march on us while we slept; and we've just got to hustle now to catch up." "but we've got some mighty fine things to our credit already, and don't you forget it, boys. i haven't heard of a horse being stopped, and a child's life saved over in aldine or manchester," declared wallace, with a proud glance toward paul. "or any account of the rival troops attending a fire in a body, and working to beat the band until their new uniforms were next to ruined," spoke up nuthin'. "i guess the boys of manchester must feel pretty small when they listen to the story of how a red fox scout walked right into a burning building, and snatched up a baby that had been forgotten; hey, how about that, fellers?" shouted william, pointing his finger at jack. "we're hitting up the pace. we're going strong, and bound to make things hustle right up to thanksgiving day! every fellow do his level best to bring that banner home to stanhope!" cried jud elderkin. "we can do it!" yelled half a dozen in chorus. "why, its easy money, boys. just organized, and not a second class scout in the troop yet, but look at what we've done. give us a little time, and we're going to make the beavers and bald eagles, and all the rest of 'em, sit up and take notice!" avowed nuthin'. "and wait until you hear the inspiring sound of my bugle, which i expect to have at the next meeting," said bobolink, proudly. "huh! that won't h-h-hold a c-c-candle to my d-d-drum!" declared bluff, waving his arms wildly, as though he could already imagine the great fun in store when that instrument came to hand. and so the meeting broke up, with the scouts disbanding for the day. some lingered to try once more the various stunts that interested them most. it seemed as if every fellow's heart might be wrapped up in the desire to win that coveted trophy, and bring the banner to his home town. strange to say there had not been a single mention of the other stanhope organization. none of them believed that ted and ward would be able to make the least show in the competition. they knew the habits of these fellows only too well. as a rule, they never won, save through trickery; and in the eyes of the committee appointed by the donor of the banner, anything that smacked of double dealing would be rigidly barred from the game. paul and jack, as usual, walked home together, arm in arm. as the recognized leaders in the movement that had so lately struck the boys of stanhope, they must always have much to talk over. besides that, they had their own personal affairs to discuss. "well," said jack, finally, when they found that they were alone, the nearest comrades being far behind on the road; "the four coins are still there in the snug little box, paul." his companion looked quickly at him. "you carried out my suggestion then?" he asked. "yes. the door has been closed and locked all day. even the window was shut down and fastened," replied jack. "that made the little den as tight as a drum, eh?" laughed his chum. "i should say it did. if any one got in there to-day he would have to slip through the keyhole," came from jack. "unless he happened to have a duplicate key," paul went on, seriously. "and since you found the four coins there that could hardly have happened. sure you counted four, are you?" "that's positive," returned his companion; "but to tell the truth i did get a little scare. at first i counted only three." "but you found the fourth all right, jack?" "oh! yes," replied the other. "it was gummed fast to the side of the box. i had to scrape it off before i put it back. but when do you mean to tell me what you know about this strange affair, paul?" "i guess to-morrow," answered his chum. "bully for you. i'll be glad to get it off my mind. what do you want me to do, paul, in the meantime?" "nothing," came the ready response. "shall i leave the den shut up as it is, then?" demanded jack. "until i see you in the morning, yes," laughed paul. "don't be surprised if i pop in on you unexpectedly. perhaps i may not want any one to see me go in your house, and so i might come by the back door." jack looked at him in a whimsical way and shook his head. "you've got me guessing, all right, my boy," he declared. paul instantly changed the subject, after a way he had. "the boys are getting on fine in that water boiling test, aren't they? four had it in nine minutes, and wallace beat his own record by nearly half a minute. that is going to be one thing stanhope must excel in," he said. "yes," remarked jack, falling in readily enough with his companion's desire to "talk shop," "and those photographs couldn't well be beaten. what a lot of new and interesting facts some of the trackers have dug out of the trails they followed. the papers read fine. paul, i really begin to believe we're going to make a strong bid for that banner." paul did not reply, and on jack turning his head to ascertain why, he found his chum staring at a red automobile that had just whizzed past! it had a khaki-colored top! chapter xxiii the red car "what's the matter with you, paul?" jack asked this question, for of course he could not understand why his chum should take such a deep interest in any automobile that passed them on the road. "did you happen to see inside that red car as it went by?" asked paul, turning eagerly on his friend. "why, er--yes, i did chance to be looking over your shoulders just then; i was a little afraid the wheels might graze you," admitted jack. "do you know the machine, then?" asked the other, in some suspense. "don't believe i ever saw it before; but then, what of that? don't dozens pass along here every day, that come up from the city? it's common to see a strange car, even if it has got a khaki-colored top, instead of a plain black one. hey, paul! what ails you?" demanded jack. "it wasn't colonel strange, was it?" asked the other; for the gentleman mentioned happened to possess a red auto. "of course it wasn't, because his car has a black top; and besides, neither of the two men was the fat colonel," replied jack, immediately. paul had learned something already. "then there were two men in it, you say?" he went on, casually, as though much of his interest had abated. "yes, and one of them was staring at me to beat the band. perhaps he has lost a boy, and thinks i look like him. don't let him kidnap me, will you, paul?" went on jack with pretended anxiety, as he clung to his companion's arm. "say, look there, the car's stopped. i believe they're waiting for us!" declared paul, in some excitement. "well, that's what gave me such a scare, you see. that's why i'm shaking all over, paul. but in union there is strength; and i'm going to hang on to you, if he tries to coax me to get aboard. i'm not in the long lost class." "oh! come along, and let's see what they want. he's leaning over the top now, and keeps beckoning to us." paul started on a run. he could feel his heart beating very hard; indeed it was strange, he thought, that his companion did not hear it pounding away, and make some sort of remark. the chance that he had been hoping for seemed to be within his grasp. not only had he discovered a car that answered the description of the one mentioned by mr. pender; but the occupants were plainly desirous of obtaining information of some sort, and had selected him and jack as the ones most likely to give it. as he hurried on, he tried to control himself. it would never do to show more than natural curiosity in his actions. if these two men were the ones the gentleman stopping at jack's house wanted to find, they must be smart enough to read his secret, unless he took warning. no sooner had he come abreast of the car than looking up he found himself staring into the dark face of a man who had a cruel look about him. what thrilled paul, however, was the fact that one of his eyes was undoubtedly artificial. he had guessed this fact when jack stated that the party _stared_ so at him. all doubt was gone now, and he understood that by the strangest of luck he had come upon the parties for whom mr. pender was searching. the official must have known that they were headed this way for some purpose or other. "live around here, bub?" asked the man with the glass eye, as he looked piercingly at paul. "yes, sir; in stanhope," replied the boy, surprised himself to find how steady his voice turned out to be under the trying circumstances. "how far ahead is that place?" continued the man. "about half a mile, sir. you can see the steeple of the methodist church after you turn that bend ahead," and paul pointed with a steady finger. "huh! i wonder now if either of you happen to know a mr. solus smithers?" and as he put the question the man shot a quick glance toward his companion; at which the shorter party nodded his big head, and grinned approvingly. paul turned to his chum. "say, jack, isn't that the name of the man who took the old grimes farm up at the milldam?" he asked, though he knew positively that it was so. "smithers--why, yes, i reckon it is. is he a tall man, with a hooked nose; and does he dip snuff?" queried jack, innocently enough. "that's solus to a dot. you see, boys, he's from north caroliny, where even the wimmen use snuff, only they rub it on their teeth with a stick. now, mebbe one of you boys would be so obligin' as to direct us to the shortest way to where this old mill stands," continued the man with the bogus orb. "i guess the quickest way to get there is to drive through stanhope, and pick up the deerfield road on the other side. it's only a few miles off; but the road turns lots of times to avoid the hills." paul noted that the taller man seemed to invariably look to his companion for support. it was as though they worked in common, and neither wished to become responsible for action without the other's assent. after an interchange of low words, which the boys did not catch, the spokesman once more turned around. he held a silver half dollar in his hand. "here's something for your trouble, boys. but look here, ain't there another way to get to that old abandoned mill without going through the town? to tell you the truth we lost our number away back, and might get hauled up because we can't show a tag on the back of the car." paul had already noticed this significant fact. it is the business of a scout to take note of even trifles. one of the tests of memory is to look in at a store window for just one full minute; and then, going away, make out as complete a list of articles it contained as is possible. and still, he did not believe that this was the true reason these men disliked passing through stanhope if it could be avoided. perhaps they had some suspicion that mr. pender was visiting there; and did not want to take chances of his meeting them face to face. "sure there is," broke in jack, who saw no reason why he should not believe the artful excuse given; for jack did not know all his chum had learned about these parties; "after you pass the bend yonder, just turn to the left. you can't miss the road, for its got a big maple tree right at the junction. we call that the grapevine road, because it twists and turns so; but it will fetch you out right at the old dam, mister." many a time had jack himself walked along that same winding path when coming home with a string of bass, taken in the mill pond. it was longer, to be sure, but there were some fine apple trees on the way; and the walk through the dense woods was so much more enjoyable on a hot summer day than the open stretch that marked the other route. the man flipped the coin in the air, and as it fell at paul's feet he felt constrained to stoop and pick it up. to do anything else might have aroused the suspicions of the man who stared. and at the worst it meant another contribution toward the various funds which the boys were raising for many purposes. boys as a rule have little objection about receiving "tainted money." and while paul understood that these men had been breaking some of the laws of the land, he was not supposed to know the particular way in which their money had been gained. "much obliged for the information, boys; and please don't report us in town as being short a license tag. we'll get a new one just as quick as we can. so-long!" as the shorter fellow started the machine his companion waved his hand at the two chums on the road, both of whom of course returned the salute. jack watched his friend out of the corner of his eye as they walked on. perhaps he was entertaining a dim suspicion that paul might be keeping something from him. but he asked no questions; and the other volunteered no information. a scout is supposed to know when to hold his tongue, especially when in the company of his superior officer; and so jack let the matter drop. "see, they've turned in, all right, paul," he said, as he pointed to the broad marks of heavy tires leaving the main road, and passing under the spreading maple that stood at the junction with the grapevine. "that's so," returned paul, apparently not in the least interested; and yet as they continued to walk briskly toward home he frequently turned a wistful look over his left shoulder, as in fancy his thoughts followed those two strangers up to the old farmhouse at the mill pond. who was this solus smithers? could he be in league with these two men whom the government expert was sent to watch? paul remembered that he had heard several people talking about the man and his ways. he seemed to have plenty of money, yet he made no effort to farm the place he had rented that summer. as soon as they reached town he started to accompany his chum home, hoping to have an opportunity to see mr. pender in secret. catching sight of that gentleman walking down for the evening mail, he made some excuse and broke away from jack; who looked after him in bewilderment, grieved because paul, for once, seemed to be keeping some secret from him. mr. pender presently came out of the post-office. he had a letter in his hand, and was apparently much displeased at what it had contained. "why, hello! paul, my boy! glad to see you. how is the patrol coming on? some day you must allow me to watch your manoeuvers up there in the woods. i'm deeply interested in all such goings-on, you know," he said, shaking hands, heartily. "yes, sir; i'll ask the boys for permission to invite you," began paul. "were you looking for me, my boy?" asked the other suddenly, his keen eyes having doubtless detected something in the manner of the young scout master that gave him his idea. "yes, sir, i was," replied the one addressed. "i wonder now if, on the top of bad news from washington, you could be about to bring me new hope. have you learned anything you want to tell me, paul?" "i've seen that red auto, and talked with the gentleman who has the glass eye!" said the boy, trying in vain to keep his eager voice from trembling with excitement. chapter xxiv a call for help mr. pender swooped down and seized paul's hand, which he squeezed so heartily that he almost made the tears come to the boy's eyes. "that sounds good to me, my boy. please tell me about it. where was it at the time? and do you think it can have gone beyond stanhope? i hope you didn't give the gentleman any idea that you had ever heard a word about him or his car?" "oh! i give you my word, sir, that they never dreamed i knew a thing about them. a scout has to learn how to keep his feelings in check, you see, mr. pender. i acted just as naturally as jack did; and he knew nothing." "well, tell me about it now, please." stopping at the corner, paul started in to relate all the incidents connected with that meeting on the road. the gentleman hung upon every word. he certainly looked pleased, and paul realized that he had done something worth while. to his credit be it said that never once had he entertained the thought of receiving any sort of reward for his services. "all this is of the greatest importance to me, my boy. i am frank to tell you that the successful capture of those two men you have so ably described, thanks to your scout training, will mean much to me. and depend upon it, if success rewards my efforts, i shall certainly remember that you gave me very valuable assistance in the undertaking." "then you think i might have a reward, don't you, mr. pender?" he said. "i most positively do, and right now and here i'm willing to promise you--" "wait a little, mr. pender. there's only one thing you could do to pay me for the little assistance i have been to you. some time later on, after you get back to washington, write me a letter on your official paper, stating just what aid the boy scouts of the red fox patrol were to you in furthering the ends of justice. that's all any of us could accept, sir." "by jove! i'm proud to know such boys, and proud to shake hands with the fine scout leader at their head!" exclaimed the government representative, as he cordially thrust out his digits. but "once bit, twice shy"; and paul shook his head as he caressed his fingers. "excuse me, won't you, mr. pender; but once at a time is enough. i expect to have a lot of use for my right hand to-night, sir," he laughed. "oh! pardon me, my dear boy!" cried the other, "i was forgetting that it wasn't the hand of a tiller of the soil i squeezed. i'll be more careful next time. but your news was so unexpected, coming at a moment when i had received some depressing information by mail, that i quite forgot myself. please continue to keep these facts to yourself for a little while longer, paul." "yes, sir; until you give me leave to speak i won't tell anybody, not even my own folks at home. and if we are so fortunate as to get that letter from you, stanhope troop will have a big advantage over other competitors. you know, sir, we are competing for an elegant banner; and the other patrols have been working all summer; so that we've just got to get busy if we hope to have a show in." "i don't care if they've been going along a year, i'd be willing to wager that stanhope will win the prize. that shows what faith i put in the leader of the red fox patrol. nothing is going to ever hold you back. i can see the spirit glowing right now in your eyes," and mr. pender nodded his head wisely as he said this. paul turned red under the praise. mr. pender was apparently anxious to know all he could about the place around the abandoned mill. "have you seen this party named solus smithers?" he asked, presently, as they walked slowly on in company. "yes, sir; several times. he's a very tall and thin man, with a face i never liked. he's driven some of us boys away from the mill pond this last summer. we have always fished there, and nobody ever said a word; but he acted as if he had an idea some of us would steal his old house. he even brought out a gun once, and warned three fellows off. after a while no one cared to go up there. some of the boys even said they believed the old man was daffy, and that he might shoot if anybody made him real mad." "oh! yes; i see; and he didn't want trespassers on his farm, eh? does the mill pond stand on the ground he's rented?" asked the gentleman. "oh! yes, and all the ground around there. it must cover four hundred acres, but most of it is in woodland, you see, sir," replied paul, promptly. "can you tell me what smithers looks like, paul?" "he's very tall, stoops quite a lot, uses snuff like they do down in north carolina, and has small blue eyes and a queer nose. some of the boys say it looks as if it had been broken. that man in the red car knew it when jack called it a hooked nose, sir." mr. pender slapped his thigh as though in great glee. "well, this is great luck, sure enough. from your description i believe that i know this mr. solus smithers, though that isn't his name at all. it keeps on getting better and better, the deeper i grub. and if all turns out well, i shall owe you a heavy debt, my dear boy." "make it up in that letter then, sir. the stronger the better. and if you happen to need any further assistance don't hesitate to call on us. we've got some dandy trackers in the red fox patrol; and it would have to be a pretty smart fellow to pull the wool over their eyes, sir." "good for you, paul," said the gentleman, warmly; "always ready to sound the trumpet for your comrades; but if the truth were told i reckon i'd find the scout leader at the top of the bunch when it came to a knowledge of woodcraft." "please don't, sir," pleaded paul. "jack has been confiding to me all about how you've always been deeply interested in outdoor life," went on mr. pender; "but as you have told me all you know about this red car that has gone along the grapevine road, headed for the old mill pond, i believe i'll have to leave you. take my hand, won't you, paul? i promise to be good, and not put on pressure, though my heart is very warm toward you, lad." so mr. pender hurried away. paul turned back. he had noticed an air of unusual excitement inside the post-office, and his curiosity was stirred. while mr. pender and his strange mission was in the foreground, of course, he had been able to pay little attention to anything else; but now that this was shelved he could not resist the inclination to return, and ask what made the people stand around in knots as though exchanging views. he discovered ted slavin and three of his friends jabbering away just inside the door, and heard one of them exclaim: "course we will go along; it'd be a big feather in our cap, fellers, if we'd be the ones to bring him back." "yes, send out word for the boys to get together, ted. we'll show 'em what we fellers that has hunted since we was knee high, know about follerin' a trail!" another remarked. "let up, you; d'ye want to give the whole snap away? see who's here!" whispered ted; but in such a hoarse tone of voice that paul could not help hearing. of course his curiosity was still further aroused. whatever could have happened in quiet stanhope, to cause all this gathering of people, and such earnest consultations? he saw chief billings, who was in charge of the police force in the town, leaving the post-office, and noted that a large delegation trailed after him. could it be possible that the local authorities had in some manner become aware of the fact that law breakers were abroad in the land? was mr. jared pender, the government expert, about to have rivals in the field? when those cronies of ted spoke of following a trail could they have had any reference to the track of the wonderful red automobile with the khaki-colored top; and occupied by the two parties whom mr. pender wished to catch, as he said, "with the goods on?" paul hoped not. it would complicate things very much; and in the confusion the rascals might manage to slip away. paul had known chief billings to undertake a clever piece of business before now; but never succeed in accomplishing one. some one banged into him as he turned a corner in the building. "why, hello! paul, that you?" said a voice. it was si growdy, who claimed to be a nephew of old peleg, but who had never been known to be recognized by the crusty old farmer. he clerked in one of the general stores, of which stanhope boasted several big ones, where everything, from a package of pins to a coffin could be purchased. "what's all the row about, si?" demanded the acting scout master, as he seized hold of the clerk, to head him off; for si seemed to be in a hurry as usual; he worked for a man who was a driver, and had to give an account of every minute of his time. "ain't you heard nawthin' about it, paul? where you ben all this afternoon?" was the way the clerk answered one question with another. "up in the woods with the scouts, doing stunts. but tell me what's gone wrong? another robbery at the jewelry store; or has some one sneaked away with one of the coffins your house carries?" pursued paul. "if anybody ever got off with a pin that didn't belong to 'em at our emporium, the fact ain't never been known. i've seen the boss chargin' customers with the cracker they eat when samplin'. we got orders to make light weight if they buy. but about this rumpus; they's a child lost!" said si. "who's child?" asked paul, instantly deeply interested. "mr. boggs' little willie. the chief was just in to talk with him. he's all broken up over it, because you know, he uses a crutch, and can't help hunt." paul knew mr. boggs assisted the post-master in his duties; and many a time had paul chatted with the pretty little chap who played around the building while his father was assorting the incoming mails. willie boggs had always been a universal favorite. he was the sweetest child in all stanhope, and everybody loved him. paul was shocked at the news. still, he hoped it might not be as bad as si said. "where did it happen? how do they know? who saw little willie last? what has been done to find him?" he fired at the clerk like the discharge of a gatling gun. "glory! expect me to tell the hull story, with my boss asettin' there inside the store, watchin' the clock, an' dockin' me for every minute i'm late? all right, who cares? and besides, paul, p'raps that troop of yours might be useful in follerin' the tracks of poor little willie," si went on. "where, when, how?" demanded the scout master, resolutely. "this mornin' it happened. willie went with annie spooner to get some leaf mould in the edge of the woods, for her ma's flowers. she came back just at noon an' sed willie had strayed away in the woods." "did anybody go to look for willie?" asked paul. "three boys went out to bring him in. they hunted high an' low, but he wa'n't there. then a dozen people set out to search the woods. just now they come back to say willie ain't to be found high nor low. that stirs the big chief some. he 'low he knows how the thing's to be did; and so he's agoin' to organize a hunt for the lost child. that's all. now, let me get back to my slave tasks, paul." "and night coming on," murmured paul, as he looked out of the door to where people were assisting the crippled mr. boggs across the square in the direction of his nearby home, where his wife was no doubt waiting eagerly for some news of the missing darling. si growdy shot out of the door, and headed in the direction of the store where he gave his valuable services daily from seven in the morning until late in the evening, for a miserable pittance. paul walked thoughtfully out of the post-office. he was tired from his exertions of the afternoon; but all that was immediately forgotten when he mentally pictured the weeping mother in that little cottage where the honeysuckle climbed above the door. then he thought of the terror of the little fellow, wandering about in the great woods with night coming down, and all sorts of strange noises arising to chill his blood. "i'll do it!" exclaimed paul presently; "the chance is too good to be lost. why let ted and ward have the inside track? just as soon as i can send word around we'll test our new system of bringing a bunch of the fox scouts together. and then, if the boys are willing, we'll try and discover where willie boggs has wandered. it's a glorious opportunity to find out if what we've learned is worth having. here goes then, to send out the call for help!" chapter xxv a camp in the woods "why, paul, what's all this hurry mean?" "i just want to get a few bites of supper, mother, and then rush off. i've sent out the call for a hurry meeting of the patrol. some people call it the emergency signal. every one of the scouts knows what it means. those who can get out will be gathering here inside of half an hour." "but it must be something very unusual that urges you to do this. you've been on the go all afternoon, and i don't know that it is wise to bolt your supper in such a style, just to be ready to greet the boys when they arrive." "mother, you don't understand. father hasn't come back from his afternoon round of visits, has he? then you couldn't possibly know," went on paul. "know--what, my son?" questioned his mother, seeing that the boy was worked up more than usual. "we're going to organize a searching party. perhaps some of the scouts may be smart enough to get on the track. it's poor little willie boggs, mother." "searching party--willie boggs! is the child lost?" "yes, and has been ever since before noon, in the big woods. you see it's just beginning to get dark now. think of the poor little fellow wandering perhaps miles off in the woods. what if a storm should come up?" and paul's manner told how he felt. "but there are no wild animals large enough to injure the child. the most he could suffer would be exposure to the night air; that and the fright of finding himself alone. oh! it is a terrible thing though; and little willie is all his poor father has left. it would kill him if anything happened," declared the good lady, whose heart was very tender. "now you see why i'm in such a hurry to get a bite, mother. every minute might count, for perhaps he is wandering further and further away. you'll let jane get me something in a jiffy, won't you, now?" continued the eager lad. "gladly, and help her too, after you have told me more. how do you boys expect to look for the child in the blackness of those woods?" "every scout will carry a lantern, with which we have practiced signal wig-wagging until we are able to send messages back and forth. besides that, we can form a long line across the woods, and comb nearly every bit of it, looking into every stack of brush and waste to see if willie has lain down. and mother, think if we should just find him, how glad you'd be that we went out!" "indeed, i should! i shall pray that you succeed, my boy. and it does you great credit that you are so earnest in your desire to help others. sit down, and i'll wait on you myself," and mrs. morrison bustled away toward the kitchen as she spoke. as paul was hastily devouring his supper, for he was as hungry as a wolf, who should come in but the doctor. and of course he had to be told; though paul's mother took this task upon herself, giving the boy a chance to eat. through the window paul could see that already several fellows had gathered; and other lanterns were meanwhile coming like giant fireflies through the gathering gloom of the night. the prospect of bringing his scout troop into action for such a good cause was particularly pleasing to the boy who temporarily filled the office of leader. spurred to do their very best by a recollection of the vows they had so recently taken, the members of stanhope troop might be depended on to bring credit to their organization. by the time paul issued from the house there were a full dozen of his chums present. he was glad to see that all the original charter members forming the red fox patrol were on hand. they happened to live closer than others who had joined later; and boys of a particular community generally flock together. immediately a great hubbub ensued. those who did not know what all the fuss was about had to be "put wise," as william said. and paul was called upon to explain his plans for the tracking of little willie boggs, who had become as a chip on the torrent, a wanderer in that mysterious forest, the end of which few stanhope fellows had ever reached in their wanderings up over the hills. there were now fourteen present, and paul determined not to wait for any more of the troop to come to time. "fall in!" down the street they marched, the lanterns flickering as they swung to and fro. no wonder people, rushing to the doors as shouts arose, began to ask eagerly if the lost child had been recovered. "it's the boy scouts; and they're going out to join the hunt!" some one shouted. "oh! they're about a mile behind ted and his crowd!" jeered one fellow who must have had leanings toward the slavin party; he had been detected in cheating so often in every game boys played that for months now he found himself left severely alone by decent fellows, and it was reported had applied for admission to the patrol ward and ted were getting up. out of the town, and straight to the spot where the lost boy had last been seen paul led his squad. he knew that it would be only a miracle if the many feet that had trod the ground over would have left any trace of the child's little shoes; but he still had hopes that the training some of his scouts possessed would bring more or less success. the unique sight of all those lanterns on the road had attracted many people, so that when they arrived at the spot paul had in mind, fully thirty followed, a number of them boys who came only to make sport of the scouts. "spread out, fellows," said the scout leader, quietly, "and examine every foot of ground. if you find a single impression of willie's little shoe, give the signal, and i'll come; but hold your places every one." immediately the scene became an animated one. lanterns flashed hither and thither, swinging close to the ground; while young eyes searched diligently for a trace. in less than five minutes the signal sounded, and paul hurried over to the one who had given the same. jack was at his elbow, and between them they examined the mark, to ascertain in what quarter it pointed. then the advance was taken up in that direction. again came the thrilling cry that told of a new footprint that had been found. this time it was wallace carberry who had made the discovery. he talked so intelligently about it that paul determined to keep him close by. wallace would be a valuable advisor in case he and jack disagreed at any time as to what the signs meant. so they went on for an hour, finding a footprint now and then to encourage them. these came at more frequent intervals when they got far enough away to avoid the trampled soil where the crowd had hunted all the afternoon. those who had followed were now missing. they had seen that the scouts meant business, and did not care to wander so far from town. hence, paul presently found that he and his patrol had the woods almost to themselves. several times though he had seen other lanterns wandering around, and guessed that these were carried by some of the slavin crowd, also diligently combing the woods in the hope of being the lucky ones to find the missing boy. the chief of police and his party had gone off in an altogether different direction. "how long can we keep this up, paul?" asked jack, when they had been moving on for two hours, with no end in sight. "don't know, but we ought to be able to put our best foot forward just as long as that little fellow does, don't you think?" replied the other, reproachfully. "why, of course, and don't think i'm showing the white feather so early in the game. i've made up my mind never to go back until he's found. why, we can camp right in the woods if it comes to it. and that would be a bully experience for every fox in the bunch. think of having to make beds out of branches! ain't i glad some of us brought our camp hatchets along." "and jack, it would leave us in a good position to take up the hunt again in the morning; for you see we'd be right on the ground where the little chap passed along. suppose you call out again. he might hear, and answer." jack obeyed, and repeated the name of willie in a loud voice again and again. but only the echoes of the great woods answered. if the boy were within reach of that cheery hail he must be wrapped in the sleep of exhaustion, and unable to reply. finally jack ceased to call, for he was growing very husky. the search still went on with unabated zeal, each boy trying to vie with his mates in the endeavor to make some new discovery. paul examined every faint print of that little foot, desirous of fixing the time it was made. wallace joined him in this, and it was clearly shown that hours must have elapsed since the child passed that way. "still, he may be within fifty yards of where we are. let's keep at it as long as we can, and only camp when some are too tired to go on," declared paul, greatly disappointed to think that they had thus far been baffled by hard luck. it was astonishing to see how far the little fellow had wandered; but fear always lends wings to the feet; and all the while willie doubtless really believed he must be heading toward home. and paul noted another fact that somehow gave him new interest in the enterprise. by degrees the trail had swung around to the left, as is nearly always the case when grown persons are lost; and the principle seemed to hold good in the case of even a child. in itself this was not strange; but paul knew that if they kept on for another hour the chances were they would come upon the old mill pond, nestling in the valley. the fact caused him to remember his friend mr. pender; to once more mentally see that red motor with the khaki-colored top; and to picture the two strangers who had asked him so many questions. was this really an accident, their being drawn out toward the farm of the unneighborly sol smithers; or might it turn out to be the working of destiny? he was aroused by a call that he had been expecting to hear for some time now. one of the scouts felt forced to admit that he was "all in." they had done manly work to keep up the tramp all this time, being but boys at best. it meant that camp must be made, and the balance of the night spent there in the woods, waiting for day to come to renew their search. poor little willie was destined then to pass still more hours, surrounded by the terrors of the black and unknown forest. but probably by this time he must be so exhausted through his unusual exertions that he was dead to the world in sleep; so it would not matter very much. soon all was bustle as the fourteen lads began to make ready to spend a time in open camp. the sound of hatchets made pleasant music, as branches were cut, and beds made close to the fire that had been started. some of the smaller lads were so utterly exhausted that they just dropped to the ground, and went to sleep. paul and jack passed around to see that these wornout fellows did not lie too near the blaze; and that they were fairly comfortable. in an hour's time it seemed as though every one were taking solid comfort after such rude fashion as could be devised. one of the boys had brought his camera along, keen to secure novel effects; and without warning he set off a flash that gave him a picture of the slumbering heroes on their lowly beds, that would be ever afterwards treasured as invaluable. at the brilliant illumination several sat up, and one even gave a cry of alarm, thinking perhaps that lightning had struck a tree close by; but with the coming of darkness again they settled back. but paul could not sleep. he was only waiting until some of the more restless souls quieted down. then he and jack, together with wallace, meant to again tackle the job of seeking for further imprints of those worn little shoes among the dead leaves, and in the soft soil under the giant trees. somehow paul believed that the hunt was bound to carry them to the very door of that farmhouse on the mill pond. he was induced to suspect this because the last time they had examined the small shoeprints, the mark of a much larger foot had appeared beside it; and after mature deliberation he and wallace came to the conclusion that some man, walking through the forest, had discovered the trail of the child, _and was following it_! he looked around him. as near as he could tell every one of the tired scouts was slumbering soundly. so paul silently arose, touching jack on the shoulder, who immediately gave wallace carberry the signal. the three uttered no word, but moving softly back from the circle of firelight, carrying their almost exhausted lanterns, made ready to once more start out into the depths of the wood; with the lonely farmhouse now rented by the surly sol smithers just half a mile further to the north! chapter xxvi what woodcraft told "there it is again, paul!" "as sure as you live we're being followed, boys!" and wallace allowed his voice to rise just above a hoarse whisper when he made this energetic remark. the three were crouching in the bushes. as yet paul had not caught a glimpse of the object which seemed to disturb both of his friends; but he was looking sharply now. "why, yes, i do believe you are right, fellows," he said, calmly. "well, you take it mighty cool, i must say," declared jack. "because i see no reason to get flurried over such a little thing, boys," was what the leader replied. "little thing, when you know ted slavin and a bunch of his toadies came up here to get all the glory they could out of this business! don't you understand, paul, that if they thought they could down us, they'd just as lief waylay us in the woods, and put an end to all our expectations?" this was a very unusual way of talking for wallace, but it only went to show how the boy was worked up over the situation, and made nervous by the continuous strain. "but how do you know those moving figures are ted and ward, or even any of that crowd?" demanded paul. the others hesitated, and finally jack remarked: "well, for a fact we don't know; but you remember we saw signs that even you declared proved what i'm saying--that some of those fellows have wandered as far as this." "yes, that's a fact. i'm not apt to forget it. now, how many figures have you seen dodging along back there, just as if they didn't care to be seen--yet?" "how about it, wallace?" queried jack, doubtfully. "two, anyhow; i'm sure of that," came the hesitating reply. "yes, at least two, paul," the other echoed. "and we are three. that's one reason why i don't see any reason for getting nervous over the discovery," observed the leader, his voice now apparently showing a trace of humor that was bubbling up near the surface. "but where there are two there may be more, paul?" objected jack. "yes, possibly eight or ten more," went on the calm leader. "goodness! and you say there is no need of our worrying?" exclaimed wallace. "yes, explain what you mean, old fellow. eight or ten would give us a warm time don't you think?" demanded wallace, gripping paul's arm fiercely. "hardly, if they were all sound asleep around a dying campfire, dead to the world," quoth paul, chuckling now. but the others uttered low but vehement exclamations. "don't you see what he means, wallace?" asked jack. "sure. what a couple of fools you and i were," came the scathing reply. "we've been followed by two of our own boys. they must have watched us crawl out of camp, and not wanting us to have all the fun, here they come creeping after us. what shall we do, paul?" jack queried in the other's ear; for the flitting figures were now very near. "open our arms and welcome the recruits. if they're just bound to join forces with us, why should we make any kick. i'm glad of it." then raising his voice a little, paul continued: "hey! there!" they could hear the murmur of voices. evidently the two shadows were talking it over, and must have arrived at some quick conclusion, for presently same a hail. "hello! paul, jack!" "it's bobolink, for one," muttered jack, immediately. "then it's a sure thing william is tagging along," said wallace. "come on, both of you fellows. no danger!" called paul, softly. after that assurance the shadows boldly advanced, and quickly joined the three who stood under the spreading oak. it proved just as jack and wallace had predicted, for the newcomers turned out to be william and bobolink. they were chuckling, as though considering it a good joke. "thought you'd give us the quiet sneak, and gobble all the glory yourselves, hey?" said the latter, as they bustled up; "but william and myself had it all fixed. we were on to your curves, all right." "yes," broke in william, just there; "didn't we see you with your heads together a lot, and wasn't we wise to what was in the wind. bobolink was awake, and it was my turn to snooze. he gave me a kick in the seventh rib that made me think a comet had dropped on me. but we showed up game. now, what's doing, fellows; and do we get a grab at the scout?" "if you both feel like trotting around a whole lot more, why you're just as welcome as a shower in spring," asserted paul, promptly. "i should say, yes," declared jack; "and if the whole bunch could stand the racket we wouldn't have crept away like we did. but most of the poor fellows are all in, and dead tired, and we thought it would be a shame to invite them to hike some more." "did you bring your glim along?" asked paul. "our lanterns? well, william didn't want to, but i insisted. i knew that if we missed you fellows, and lost ourselves in the bush, they'd come in mighty fine for company," returned bobolink. "then let's light up. after that we'll spread out, and try to find the trail," with which remark paul set the example. presently five lanterns glowed like giant fireflies. "think it lies in this direction, paul?" asked william. "i'm sure of it. after that man's track came alongside the print of the little chap's shoe, there was no more wandering about; but it struck straight ahead. that told me the trail was heading for a house," came the ready reply. "a house. say, is there any other place up here but the old farm alongside the mill pond? i don't seem to remember any," remarked bobolink. "and that's just where i expect we'll bring up sooner or later," observed paul. "then why not put for the old place at full speed right away?" suggested william, always impetuous. "to do that we'd have to drop the trail again. and besides, what does an hour, or even two of them, matter in the end? slow but sure is the successful scout's motto, boys. hello i look here, what's this?" paul thrust his lantern down close to the ground. bending over to look, the others could see the plain impression of a child's little shoe. it was heading due north, just as many similar tracks had been of late. "now if you look at this you'll see it's nearly crushed out by the big print of a man's foot; while just beyond the child has stepped into the impression made by the man. that can mean only one thing; the two were going on in company, and for a minute he let go the little one's hand, so that first the child was in front, and then behind." "i guess you're right, paul. but see here, what does this mean? the small track has dropped out altogether," remarked william. "that is where the big fellow picks the boy up in his arms, and is carrying him," said wallace, before paul could answer. "right you are, that is just what happened. to tell the truth i don't know why he didn't do that before. he must have been toting some bundle along, and couldn't well carry the boy too. come back a bit. i want to look around," and paul retraced his steps until he had reached the spot where a confusion of tracks met his gaze. he followed the man's trail a few paces, and found himself under a tree. raising his lantern he carefully examined the bark of the trunk, and finding several fresh scratches, pursued his investigations still higher. one accommodating limb grew rather low. in fact a man could, by reaching up his arms, clasp it easily; and that was what paul believed had been done. "give me a push, somebody; and then hand up my lantern," he said, clasping his arms about the tree as well as he was able. ten seconds later william was handing him up the light; after which paul began to ascend slowly, looking about him as though constantly on the watch for signs that would tell another had preceded him. "all right; it's here. i'm coming down, fellows," he soon called out. reaching that friendly lower limb he held something in view. "take hold of this, bobolink, and handle it carefully, because we don't know what's in the package. it might be dynamite!" he remarked. "oh! i hope not!" exclaimed the one in whose arms the bundle reposed; and he did not look any too happy at the prospect ahead. "don't be silly," said paul, as he dropped beside them. "but whatever it may be, we might as well hide it in a new place. then if the fellow should come back here to get it, he's going to meet with a disappointment, that's all." "but what d'ye think it is?" argued the one who clasped the large package in his arms, though with evident reluctance. "that is none of our business just now. it may be honest enough, and we'd get into a peck of trouble if we peeked. so let's just chuck it in some hollow stump as we go along, and muffle our trail behind us so he can't find where we put it. later on i think i know some one who will be glad to look into what it contains." "perhaps i do too," remarked jack; and the two chums looked at each other, with mutual astonishment marked on their faces. "oh!" remarked paul, "are you on, too? did he tell you the secret?" "i happened to pick up an envelope he dropped, and wondered whose it was; so i went around, asking. he laughed when i came to him, and told me a little bit of news that surprised me. but paul, he asked me not to breathe a word, even to you. that was a mean joke, when you knew all along," jack complained. "remember the red car on the road, and the two men in it?" "oh! did they have anything to do with his coming up here? yes, now that i think of it, you were pretty much excited over that same red car. you guessed something then, didn't you, paul?" "he had asked me to watch out for a red car with a khaki-colored top, that might have two men in it, one of them owning to a glass eye." "good gracious!" said jack; "that tall chap did have a bogus eye, for a fact. and when you left me in town you hurried around to the post-office to find mr. pender, didn't you? i see it all now. he never came home for supper, as far as i know. i reckon he must have got a rig of some sort, and put out for the mill pond. but what about solus smithers--they asked after him, you know?" paul pointed to the marks on the ground. "unless i'm wrong those are his tracks. i noticed that he had big feet at the time he came out and ordered us to clear away from the pond, and threatened us with his gun. yes, perhaps he got home to find visitors waiting for him," paul observed, just as though he could read all these things from the trail. "then we go on, do we?" asked bobolink, eagerly. he had been listening to what passed between his two comrades, and while it was partly greek to him, enough of the truth filtered through to give him a creepy sensation, as though cold water were being poured down his back. bobolink was no coward though, and while he shivered it was more through a delicious frame of mind over the chance of an adventure than because he felt fear. "straight on, as long as these lanterns hold out. i see yours has begun to flicker already, william. there, it's puffed out; and my own isn't near as strong a light as it was." paul seemed to be a true prophet, for inside of five minutes the lanterns "gave up the ghost," the last to expire being that of jack. "what's doing now?" demanded jack. "gather up all the matches in the crowd. then i'll strike them one by one," was paul's immediate response. this emergency torch lasted for a little while. finally the last match was gone, and still they were some distance away from the mill pond. "listen," said william, suddenly; with a thrill in his voice; "whatever do you suppose that is?" chapter xxvii ted finds something "sure it wasn't an owl?" asked paul, when a full minute had passed away, without their hearing a repetition of the sound that had reached the ears of his comrade. "didn't sound like it. i kind of thought it was somebody calling for help!" said bobolink, quivering with the suspense caused by the situation. they stood in a group, listening eagerly. the night wind stirred the tops of the tall forest trees softly, and even this gentle sound boomed on their strained nerves like the strokes of a bass drum. "oh! there! didn't you hear it that time?" whispered bobolink. "i guess we did," replied paul; "and you're right in saying it is somebody shouting. but all the same i don't feel sure it was a call for help. let's remember, fellows, that ted and his crowd must be somewhere about up here. and you know from past experiences what dodges he's up to when he wants to play a trick on anybody." "do you mean he'd like to draw us off by shouting that way, while some of his fellows went along to the farmhouse, and got the lost boy?" asked william. "that would be just like ted. he's as full of tricks as an egg is of meat," jack took it upon himself to say at this juncture. "well, what are we going to do about it, boys?" asked wallace. "i leave it to paul; whatever he says ought to be good enough for me," replied wallace. "and me," came from the others without hesitation. "thanks, fellows. i hope that my plan will prove the best after all. but don't blame me if i should make a mistake. let's head for the road, which i take it ought to be somewhere over yonder," remarked paul, pointing through the darkness. "the road, eh? i see, you mean that once we get on that we'll have it easy all the way to the pond. that suits me all right. count william in." "yes, seeing that our lanterns are out, and not a match in the crowd, i guess the sooner we get our feet planted on the highway, the better for our noses. i've barked mine already against a tree, and another dose will spoil my classic beauty," grunted bobolink, rubbing tenderly at the spot in question. "then come along, the rest of you," said paul, starting off. "seems to me it's getting lighter," announced wallace, presently. "mebbe our eyes are used to it, that's what," bobolink remarked. "mine are closing up right fast, i warn you, fellers," said william; "and before long it's going to be a case of the blind leading the blind. that branch took me across the face. hey! ain't that the same old shout?" "sounds like it; but much nearer," returned paul, with a vein of uncertainty in his voice, as if he might be commencing to doubt whether they were doing the right thing in paying no attention to the calls. "oh! i guess i know what it means," remarked jack; "i've been trying to make it out all along. that's sure a different voice. some of ted's crowd have got separated, and they're just trying to get together again. you've heard quail calling, after being flushed and scattered. how, paul?" "perhaps you've struck it, jack. anyway, we are on the road here, and had better push straight along to the pond first." "right enough," uttered bobolink, as he broke through a cordon of brush, and jumped out on the highway, though it might be only an apology for a road after all, being scantily used; "and after that experience it's going to be something big that drags me into the woods again." the little group stood there for a minute to recover their wind, which had been more or less exhausted in the last desperate push through the dark woods. "ready to move on, fellows?" demanded paul, who had apparently not changed his mind, and was more than ever bent on covering the last lap lying between themselves and the pond. jack and wallace fell in on either side, and the march was begun. since the other pair did not wish to be left behind, they were forced to accompany themselves to the movements of the trio. thus they walked perhaps a full hundred yards along the winding road, with the stars showing overhead, and the black mysterious woods flanking them on either side. the shouts had apparently ceased; at least none had been heard since the five lads reached open territory. again it was bobolink who caught a sound of some sort. "tell me again i'm hearing owls, will you, fellows? if that ain't a gasoline wagon climbing a hill ahead there i'm off my guess," he whispered. "chug! chug!" came the plain sound, as the air current veered more toward the point toward which they were heading. "i know that hill," paul observed, as if talking to himself; "it's just this side of the mill pond. that means the car is coming this way. the two gentlemen are separating themselves from their dear friend, solus smithers. why, i wonder? would mr. pender have anything to do with it?" "wow! did you see that?" gasped bobolink, proving that his plaint about his eyes closing up could hardly be based on solid ground. "somebody struck a match, and it went out! whoever it is, he's on the road just ahead of us, fellows!" whispered jack. "back up into the scrub here. quick! for perhaps he's got another match!" said paul, following up his words by instant action. they managed to cower down in the brush, though bobolink muttered something to the effect that he had received another jab in the neighborhood of his wretched eyes. "look! he's done it, paul, just as you said he would!" whispered jack. "yes, he's shielding it from the breeze till it gets strong. there--well, what d'ye think of that, fellers?" gasped william. "it's ted!" muttered wallace, staring hard at the figure that seemed to be huddled up on the road a little distance away. "what do you suppose the silly goose is doing on his knees?" came from jack. "he's found something, and he's looking at it. see, now he's managed to open it up. seems to me like a leather bag, boys," wallace managed to wedge in with. "just what it is, old cat eyes. a hand bag! now, however did that thing happen to be lying there in the road? nobody ever comes up here but solus, and he isn't the one to own a bag like that." "the red car," said paul, as jack seemed to hesitate. "that's it, as sure as you live. dropped out of the machine; and by jinks! the fellers are comin' back to look for it. never missed it till sol got home!" his chum declared. all this talk between the five boy scouts was carried on in the lowest of whispers. the sound of their voices would not have carried twenty feet; and the kneeling ted was several times that distance away. besides, he seemed to be so fascinated by what he had discovered in the leather grip that he had eyes and ears for nothing else just then. "the motor is coming closer!" remarked wallace, as the sound of the engine was borne more distinctly to their ears. "sure. she's just at the top of the rise, and now it's down-grade. reckon she'll be here in a minute. push back further, fellows." "look! ted hears it now! he's jumped up! seems like he just don't know what to do, cut and run with the bag, or wait till the car gets there. hey! watch that, will you?" gasped william. "he threw the bag as far as he could into the woods!" said jack. "that looks like he meant to try and keep it," suggested jack; "i imagine that the leather grip holds something that took ted's fancy. but all the same i reckon it isn't going to be easy sledding for him. will he run, fellows?" "he's debating that same question now; but it's too late. he waited just half a minute too long," paul remarked, as a sudden flash of dazzling light shot around a bend a short distance ahead, and the red car with the khaki-colored top came into view, making fairly fast time. they could dimly see the inmates apparently surveying the road ahead with the utmost eagerness, as though anxious to make a discovery. the loss of that bag must have rather upset their plans, and given them a jolt. every one of the five hidden scouts crouched low, so that their faces might not be discovered by that fierce white glow. plainly to their ears was borne the shouts of the men in the machine, as they discovered the figure of ted on the road. the stanhope bully had evidently made up his mind that the bag was well worth struggling for, and that he must make some sort of a fight to retain possession of it. paul could guess what his plan of operations would be. he had seen ted play innocent more than once before, when caught in the act of doing some mean thing. and as a rule the fellow could carry out the game fairly well. but he was up against a different proposition now; and these keen-eyed men were not apt to be hoodwinked so easily as a parcel of schoolboys. ted stood there, looking at the car that was bearing down upon him. no doubt he had assumed the innocent air of a rustic, and tried to make himself appear as stupid as he could. the two men in the red car were no longer calling, for they had seen that the boy on the road showed no signs of wanting to run. as they bore down upon the spot the car slowed up, and came to a full stop within a few yards of the waiting ted. every scout lying in the screen of bushes held his breath as he listened to catch what was going to follow. "say, gimme a ride, mister?" that was ted speaking, before either of the men could say the first word. indeed they were too busy clambering out of the car to surround him, and cut off any chance of escape, to think of anything else. without answering they bore down on ted, and he found himself confronted by two eager faces, while a rough hand clutched his arm. "he ain't got it, brad!" exclaimed the shorter of the pair, as though disappointed over something. "hey, what'd you do with it, son?" demanded the taller traveler, looking furiously at ted, though pretending to speak gently. "with what, boss? i ain't got nothin' that belongs to you, sure i ain't!" whimpered the boy; and paul came near to chuckling at the way ted put on the agony. "we lost a leather bag out of the car. i saw it after we turned into this here twisting side road just back a piece. we've looked over every foot between here and the mill pond, and ain't seen it. i'm going to ask you again, son, what did you do with it?" the man did not threaten, as yet, but there was something deep down in his voice that seemed to tell of all sorts of terrible things that might happen to the boy unless he came to time, and confessed. but at any rate ted was game. his covetous nature had been aroused by something he had glimpsed inside of that same bag; and he did not mean to give it up unless pushed to the last resort. "ain't seen no bag, mister, 'deed an' i ain't," he whimpered; "i got a lantern here, an' i was ahuntin' a little boy that was lost from home. lots of other fellers in the woods adoin' that same. but my light give out. then i struck this here road. i'm clean tired out, mister, and i'd like to get a ride home, if so be you're goin' my way. a bag, mister? sure i ain't knowin' nawthin' about no bag. cross my heart if i do. gimme a ride to stanhope, mister, please!" chapter xxviii forced to tell the two men looked at each other. apparently they hardly knew whether to believe ted or not. paul saw them put their heads close together, as though exchanging confidences. then the tall fellow once more whirled on ted, who had been standing on one leg, with a most forlorn look upon his face. "we both think that you lie, son," said the man who was minus one of his optics, as he thrust his face close down to that of ted, as though he would look straight into his heart; but this was something that no one else had ever succeeded in doing, and the attempt did not prove very successful. "tell him who we are, brad," growled the shorter of the twain, who looked angry enough to devour the unfortunate ted. so the one called brad took something out of his coat pocket that made a peculiar jingling noise, and held it up before the boy. "d'ye see them, son? we call 'em bracelets, and they're meant to go on the wrists of criminals. d'ye understand now? we're officers of the law, and we've just made a grand haul. but some of the evidence has slipped away from us. it's in that same bag you picked up on this here road. now, don't you dare deny it again, or we'll take you into town with these pretty toys clasped on your wrists. i'm going to give you another chance to tell us, son. where did you put that bag?" ted winced and whined. he showed all the signs of injured innocence. surely he must have made up his mind quickly that the contents of the bag were well worth taking all sorts of chances for. "ain't seen no bag. sure i'd be on'y too glad to tell you, mister, if i had. all i wants to do is to go home. i'm tired, an' nigh sick with all this huntin' for that kid," he whimpered. the man suddenly pounced on him, and despite ted's struggles and entreaties, he seemed to succeed in accomplishing his purpose. at any rate the concealed scouts heard a snap; and when ted reeled back he was holding his two hands close together in a suspicious way, and staring at something that seemed to be in the nature of a connecting link. "now you are in for it," said the tall man, shaking his head threateningly as he stood over the prisoner; "we'll have to take you to town, and put you in the lockup as an accessory after the fact. d'ye hear that, you young fool? and all because you refuse to help honest officers of the law in their legitimate business. why, you may get ten years at hard labor, yes, twenty. better tell all you know, and perhaps we'll let you off." "you can do anything you like to me, mister, but i ain't agoin' to say what i don't know. ain't seen any bag of no kind. cross my heart if i have. i'm willin' to help you hunt for it, even if i am dog tired. don't you believe me, mister? sure, i wouldn't lie to you. what would i be wantin' with a bag; we got plenty at my house. ted slavin's my name, and i live in stanhope. gimme a ride, mister, if you're goin' that way, won't you?" again the two men talked together, while ted watched them out of the corner of his eye. he might even have tried to run but the fact that his hands were fastened together with that steel chain prevented such a thing. once more they turned upon him, and the tall man pointing down, thundered: "you've been kneeling in the dirt!" ted glanced down at his trousers involuntarily; but even then he was not taken off his guard. "i fell ever so many times after my lantern went out. see here, mister, how i scraped the skin off my hand. that's the honest truth i'm givin' you!" he cried. undoubtedly it was, but all the same the men showed no signs of yielding. the taller one, called brad by his companion, deliberately detached one of the lamps from the car. with this he bent down to examine the road. "he'll see the marks of the bag!" whispered bobolink to paul. "watch him while i scurry along the road a bit, to see if he left it," was what the man said, and then moved down toward the spot where the five boys lay in hiding. when he came opposite them they hardly dared to breathe, lest his keen ears catch the sound, and he pounce upon them. but he went past, scouring the road closely, and looking for some sign of the missing bag. they saw him pass on, and the light grew dim. meanwhile ted sat down on a log, and seemed to be very dejected and forlorn. once or twice when the shorter man was not looking paul saw him glance around, as though sizing up the chances for a sudden plunge into the forest. "he's coming again," said bobolink; and the brilliant glow from down the road bore evidence of the truth of this remark which was whispered in paul's ear. brad walked hastily back, and soon rejoined his companion, with whom he talked earnestly for a minute. "get up!" he said, turning to ted, and giving the boy a kick that made him climb to his feet hurriedly, groaning with pain. "bring him along into the woods, wash!" the tall man continued, turning aside. "oh! what are you goin' to do?" cried ted, in real or pretended terror, as he caught hold of the man's coat, and sought to hold him back. "you'll find out right soon, son. before we're done with you perhaps you'll wish you'd told us about that ere bag us the beginning. we're just going to make it warm for a feller of your size. this night air has made you too cold to speak up; but we'll fix all that, i reckon; we know how to do it, don't we, wash?" "do we? well, i should smile we did. but they's no need of our goin' far, old man. this here is a right smart tree, and looks like it might answer. 'sides, they seems to be lots o' loose wood lyin' 'bout this part!" paul felt a chill pass over him. could it be possible these rascals meant to torture ted until he told; or were they just trying to frighten him? if it came to the worst they just could not stand by and see such a thing done. ted, of course, was considerably worked up when he heard what the shorter fellow said. it was so very plain he could not mistake the meaning. "say, mister, you wouldn't go to hurt a poor feller what never done you no harm, now, would you? wish i on'y knowed where i could find a bag; i'd get it for you like hot cakes. please don't smoke me. i ain't a ham, mister, an' i never done you any harm. let me go, won't you? i'll never come up here again, sure i won't. and i'll promise to bring you all the bags in our house, mister." paying no attention to his pleadings and his groanings the men stood ted up against a tree. then the rope brought from the car was wrapped around both boy and tree several times. "get busy, wash, and scrape up all the dead leaves you can find. then begin and pile up some brush and stuff. oh! yes, it's a cold night, but we ain't agoin' to let a poor critter what's lost his way, suffer. here you, stop that snifflin'. time enough to beller after it begins to hurt." he struck ted again in the face, making his nose bleed. paul had crept out from the brush and commenced to approach the spot. he knew that the other four scouts were probably close on his heels. every boy's heart beat like a trip hammer with excitement. they bit their lower lips to keep from shouting out loud, such was the strain upon them. but not one had the least thought of turning back. with such a leader, how could they? the shorter ruffian was scratching right merrily among the dead leaves, making all the noise he could, so as to impress the prisoner with a sense of his perilous condition. while he worked he kept talking, half to himself, and no doubt uttering all sorts of terrible threats calculated further to alarm the boy. "we forgot one thing, wash," said the other man, suddenly. "what was that?" asked the one on his knees. "to search the varmint. i might as well do it right now, while you go on getting his jacket warmer ready." at first ted tried to make all the resistance possible; but this only brought quick punishment in the shape of ugly blows and threats. so ted had to stand and allow the other to have his way. a minute later the man uttered a loud cry. "look here, wash, what did i say?" he was holding something up. seen in the light from the lamp belonging to the red car it looked very much like a fat wad of greenbacks, tied together with a cord. wash sprang up, and bent over to examine the object in the light. then he laughed harshly. "it's the boodle, all right, brad. he found the bag, sure as thunder! and now he's _got_ to tell, or it's all up with him!" both men turned furiously on the bound boy. ted had held out against all odds up to this critical point; but of course he must admit himself beaten, now that they had found the evidence in his pocket. nearer crept paul, with his chums tagging close at his heels. and nobody thought to look beyond the line of brilliant light cast by the lamp which rested on the ground at the foot of the tree. fortunately its powerful rays were directed away from the quarter occupied by the creeping boy scouts. "now, i reckon you're agoin' to tell all you know about that ere bag, son?" said brad, in a terrible voice. "i guess i'll have to, mister. i was just holdin' out to see if so be you was what you says. now i know you be, and i'm ready to tell the hull thing if you'll only let me go free. i don't want to be smoked, just yet anyway," ted whined. "you did find the bag, then?" demanded the other. "yep, that's what i did." "and took this wad of dough out of it?" pursued the other, savagely. "it looked too nice to throw away, so i cabbaged it, mister. wisht i hadn't now." "what became of the bag after you took this out--go on, now, and tell, or--" "oh! i throwed that away, mister, right over here in the woods somewhere. if you look around you'll find her close by. please let me go when you dig her out!" said ted, really alarmed now for his safety. chapter xxix the capture paul knew where that bag was. by the strangest chance in the world he was kneeling alongside it just then. in creeping forward so as to draw closer to the scene of action, and avoid the rays of light cast by the car lamp, he had happened to put his hand on some object that felt soft to the touch; and he guessed what it must be. what if the tall man came straight toward that spot, looking for the missing object? dared they rise up and defy these two scoundrels? if some one cast ted loose would he join forces with them, and make common cause against the ruffians? judging from what he knew about the fellow, from past experiences, paul thought no dependence could be placed on ted. as likely as not if his hands were free, he would seize the very first chance to snatch up the bag and scamper off, leaving the others to bear the brunt of the men's anger. but perhaps they would not have to face the tall chap just yet. he seemed ready to start into the bushes across the way first, taking the lamp with him. "keep on piling up the trash, wash. get him surrounded good and plenty. for if we don't run across that bag mighty soon we're bound to make it warm for this smart aleck. but don't put a match to the heap till i get back. i wanter see the fun, you understand." "oh! mister, it's just like i was tellin' you. i stood in the road and guv the bag a throw when i see your light over the top of the hill. she jest _must_ be close around here somewhere," ted wailed. "if brad finds her, all well an' good; but if he don't--well, you'll have a sweet time soon, that's all," growled the shorter man, still on his knees, and engaged in scraping more leaves together. "if you on'y would let me, i'd stand on the road jest where i was when i throwed the old bag. then you could figger where she landed. let me loose, won't you, mister? i told you the truth this time; and you're sure to find that bag. they'll be wonderin' what's become of me at home, sure they will. i got a mother, and she thinks a heap of me, she does. you wouldn't break her heart, mister, by smokin' a poor boy?" "aw! dry up! you fooled us once, but you can't do it no more. it's the bag, or your hide gets a singein', my fine feller. that'll do for you, now." the man had a temper as short as his stature; and ted dared not stir him up any further. so he hung there alongside the tree, watching the glow of the lamp further up the road. and as he stood in this disconsolate position, he suddenly became aware that something was taking place just beyond the kneeling wash. perhaps, had his hands not been so snugly fastened together with that horrid steel chain, ted might have tried to rub his eyes, under the impression that they were deceiving him; for he saw a face in the dim light, a face that looked wonderfully like that of paul morrison. some foolish boys would have been so thrilled by the prospect of relief that they must have called out, and thus betrayed the creeping rescuers. ted chanced to be built on different lines. he stared and blinked, but gave utterance to no sound. he saw other moving figures close on the heels of the leader. then he understood that paul was not alone, but some of his red fox patrol must be in attendance. closer still crept the newcomers. if ted's heart ever warmed toward a living being it surely ought just then; when these lads, whom he was wont to regard as his bitter rivals, and enemies in everything at school, took such chances simply because they could not see a stanhope boy in trouble. wash kept muttering to himself as he worked. the rustle of the leaves, and the crackling of the brush as he dragged it forward, kept him from hearing such sounds as might have been made by the tenderfeet scouts, who had not yet learned just how to do these things as might an indian or an experienced woodsman. paul was on his knees now, and still rising, with jack a close second. they were not three feet behind the man who labored. a single plunge forward must send them full upon his back. some thought of his companion possibly crossed the mind of wash just then; for he suddenly turned his head. of course he could not help but see what was behind him. "now!" whooped bobolink and william in a breath. there was a simultaneous movement on the part of the five lads. wash, taken by surprise, could not get up on his feet. he had his hands full of brush at the moment, and this also handicapped him about making any effective use of the weapons nature gave him. he had just time to shout the name of his companion when the avalanche struck him, and he was bowled over as neatly as ever a football tackle got his man. paul knew that they could easily manage this one fellow. the trouble was wash did not happen to be alone. when the tall ruffian came dashing quickly to the spot there was no telling what he might not do. "hold him down, you twins. don't let him break loose. the rest of you follow me!" even while speaking paul scrambled to his feet. he heard the mad patter of feet as brad came dashing toward the spot, shouting in his excitement, and doubtless believing that the prisoner had turned upon his captor. "let me loose, paul; quick, twist this rope around the tree!" shrilled ted, who saw a chance to escape the punishment that had been hovering over his head. paul caught the end of the rope. four times did he dash around that tree, in about as many seconds; then ted, finding his bonds loose, squirmed free. but brad was now on hand, filled with astonishment and fury. whichever way he turned the rays of his car lamp he seemed to discover fresh moving figures. the woods seemed to be full of enemies. they must be hiding behind each and every tree, ready to pounce upon him. already he could see that his partner was writhing on the ground, held down by an unknown number of strangers. in his eyes it might be these advancing figures each and every one must be a deputy sheriff, eager to have a hand in his arrest. so terror makes cowards of the best of men; and brad turned to flee. "surrender!" shouted a voice behind him. it was paul calling out, but just then the alarmed culprit could not tell the voice of a boy from that of a hyena. some one had called upon him to surrender, and the dread word conjured up all sorts of terrible conditions. into the darkness of the woods he would have plunged, regardless of the shock that must follow a collision with an unseen tree. but he did not go far. a figure arose straight in his path, and opened a pair of arms, into the embrace of which the fleeing rascal ran. before the lamp fell to the ground and went out paul had one glimpse of a face. "it's mr. pender, fellows! brad's nabbed!" he could not help shouting. jack, realizing the need of more light, instantly flew over to where the car was standing, and detached the second lamp. with this he hastened back. wash was still struggling; but the two boys had him on his face, where his superior strength was of little avail; and were sitting on him to keep him quiet. when they rushed over to where mr. pender had been seen struggling with the taller of the ruffians, they found that he had subdued brad; for the other was glaring down at a pair of steel bracelets which outshone those he had so pleasantly snapped on the wrists of poor ted. there was no more fight in him. when the other man had been treated to a similar present, they were allowed to sit upon the ground and exchange words of doleful regret, while mr. pender went the rounds, and gravely shook hands with each one of the boy scouts. "you've done me a good turn, boys, a mighty good turn. i was just on my way to the mill pond to arrest these chaps when i saw a light ahead, and creeping up, witnessed this interesting sight. when i've found that bag now, i imagine i'll have the case against these two worthies clean cut," he said. upon which paul quietly stepped over into the bushes and fished out the article in question, which he delivered to the officer. from brad's pocket was taken the wad of bills which ted had thought to purloin from the bag before he threw it and the rest of its contents away. "this is counterfeit money, boys, made from the plates in the bag. they were taking these things to solus, who had written them that he had secured a nice quiet retreat where they might work undisturbed. so you see, my boy," said mr. pender to ted, "if you had made way with this it must have gotten you into a peck of trouble from the start. you're lucky to get out of it as easy as you do." ted was looking anything but cheerful. "oh! i knowed it was bad money all the while, sir, but i wanted to take it to the chief of police in town. i ain't ever goin' to run up against paul morrison and his crowd no more, after this white way they treated me. not much. i'm goin' to turn over a new leaf after this. but please, mister, get that key from him, and take these things off. makes me squirm to just feel 'em. but, mister, i'm glad i didn't have to smoke, after all," and that seemed to be the burden of ted's thanksgiving. as to his ever turning over that promised new leaf, well, paul believed they were more apt to find potatoes growing on apple trees than that such a wonder should come about. "but i'm not satisfied yet, boys," said the government agent; "there's a third one to get; solus smithers, who is known to me by another name. now, i wonder if i could leave these two prisoners in charge of several of you, while the rest went with me in the car? i'll make use of the rope, so they just can't possibly get away." it was presently decided that william, wallace and bobolink should stay, also ted if he cared to remain. paul and jack would accompany mr. pender, so as to render any assistance needed. they could also bring back little willie boggs, should he be found under the roof of the old farmhouse by the mill pond. "the worst of it is i don't know how to handle a machine," remarked the gentleman, after they had stepped out on to the road. "both of us do, sir," remarked paul; "so if you will jump aboard we'll soon be off." "well, i'd just like to learn if there is anything you boy scouts don't know how to handle?" observed the pleased agent, as he saw the two lamps put back in position, though only one was allowed to remain lighted. it took them but a short time to draw close to the farmhouse by the pond. mr. pender jumped out and advanced through the darkness toward the door. just as he reached it the boys, looking, saw it open. then the voice of sol smithers came plainly to them. "wall, did yuh run acrost the bag, brad? i guessed 'twas on'y layin' down the road a piece. but what yuh mean apushin' in on me thetaways?" "you're my prisoner, silas westover. don't try to run, or it will be the worse for you. i have plenty of help and your place is surrounded. wash and brad are already in irons. hold up your hands!" came in the stern voice of mr. pender. of course the man who had called himself solus smithers did not offer any resistance, and he was quickly made a prisoner. when he found later that one man, assisted by a parcel of boy scouts, had captured three desperate characters, he was about as mad as a hornet; but it was too late then to remedy matters. paul and jack immediately started a search for the missing willie boggs. the youngster was discovered fast asleep on a cot, just as the man who had found him in the woods had lain him down. and when mr. pender saw this he nodded his head, and declared that because solus had shown that he possessed a tender heart, for all his assumed fierceness, he would make it as easy for him when the case to trial, as he could. after mr. pender had searched the place, and accumulated what evidence he needed, all of them got into the car, willie still sound asleep. then they started over the road for stanhope. the town was reached at just one o'clock. at police headquarters mr. pender delivered his three prisoners for safe keeping. after that paul again took the red car out to bring in the remainder of the patrol, for they were miles away from home. chapter xxx found out at last "why, hello! paul! i didn't hear you ring. did you fly in through the window?" jack sprang up from the easy chair he had been occupying in the library of his own home, when his chum suddenly appeared before him. it was about ten o'clock on the morning following the hunt for the lost boy; and the remarkable occurrences that had accompanied it up in the woods above stanhope. "oh! you know i told you i might slip in by the back door this time; and that is just what i did," replied paul, speaking in an unusually guarded tone. "that's a fact!" exclaimed jack, beginning to show signs of excitement; "and i remember that at the same time you promised--" "i'd try my best to solve the puzzle about those disappearing old coins, and tell you to-day," said his chum, breaking in. "well, perhaps i may, though my most promising clue has turned out a bit of a fizzle." "but you have another up your sleeve, you said?" continued jack, eagerly. "yes, i believe i have," paul admitted. "some time later, when we get this queer affair off our hands, i want to talk with you about a lot of things connected with this scout movement. i got some good ideas from a bunch of papers left at our house for me. guess who remembered us in such a bully way?" "give it up. i might mention every gentleman in town, and then some," laughed jack; "for they're all watching what we're doing, with interest. but go on and tell me who it was, paul." "mr. peleg growdy," came the surprising answer. "well, you don't say?" exclaimed his chum, delight showing in his voice; "so the old man has really seen a great light, has he? i guess he's taking more interest in our troop than anybody else in town. that night's work was the best thing that ever happened for the boys of stanhope, as well as for peleg. i take off my cap to him after this, paul." "but wait; that isn't all. you know that si growdy is a nephew of his? well, he's without a home no longer. peleg sent for him, and they had a long talk. si told me this morning that he's really been adopted by his uncle, and is going to make his home with him. what d'ye think of that, jack?" "just immense, that's what," declared his companion, slapping a hand on paul's shoulder; "i'm glad we went there and cleaned up the old man's dooryard. some of the boys thought it silly at the time; but they understand things better now. he was just needing something like that to touch his heart. up to then he thought all boys were pests. we opened his eyes some, eh?" "that's right, we did. but about those coins!" said paul, smiling once more. "yes, first tell me who it was you suspected that has turned out innocent?" asked his chum. "there he lies yonder, sleeping, with one eye open and watching us!" remarked paul, pointing across the room. "what! carlo! you actually suspected him of taking my coins? why, paul, whatever put that notion into your head?" demanded jack, in sheer astonishment. "well," returned paul; "perhaps it was silly, but then you've taught him to fetch a basket from the baker's, and do lots of stunts. i didn't know but what the sly old chap might be helping himself to your coins, and palming them off on the butcher for a supply of bones." "that would have been the limit!" gasped his friend. "but you found out that he was innocent, did you?" "i finally went in and talked with mr. griggs; but he said carlo just came in once in a while, looking so pitifully at him, that he didn't have the heart to refuse a bone. so none of your lost coins have gone into his till, jack." "oh! that would have been the queerest thing ever, had he done it. but now about the other clue you have--tell me about it, paul," continued the anxious one. paul had seated himself where he could keep an eye down the street in front of the house. and while his chum was talking he had smiled as if he might have discovered something out there that pleased him very much. "come right up to your den with me, jack, and leave carlo shut in here," he said, rising; "and when we get upstairs open the window to air the room. then i shall ask you to let me hide there behind something, while you go downstairs, pass out, and along the street in plain view." "say, that's a mighty queer thing to do," ventured the other. "it's all a part of my plan. you must leave the door of the den open too. and jack, after you get around the corner i want you to sneak back to the rear of the house, and come up again, crawling into the den here, if everything is quiet." "oh! all right, if you say so, paul," jack observed; "but you've sure got me guessing to beat the band, right now. here's the window open. now shall i get busy, and meander off?" "right away. please carry it out just as i said. you ought to be back here inside of six or seven minutes; and i guess that will be time enough before the circus begins, jack." so the owner of the little den at the top of the house gave his chum one last look of bewilderment, and turning, hastened down the stairs. paul, with a glance around, chose a certain corner for his hiding-place. here he could see without exposing himself to view; and squatting down he prepared to await developments. a minute later he got up, and moved an old screen partly across the floor, so that it hid the open door. when jack returned, he could crawl alongside the hiding boy without showing himself to any one in the room, or beyond the window. hardly had five minutes crept by when paul heard a slight sound. it came from the stairs, and he smiled, knowing that his chum had lost no time in carrying out his part of the plot. so jack came sliding in, and was soon nestling down at paul's side, brimming over with curiosity, yet deterred from asking questions by the fact that paul had put up a warning finger. several more minutes passed by, when jack was thrilled to see something moving in the direction of the partly open window. it seemed to be a long cane fishing rod, that had a dark colored lump at the end of it. the rod continued to advance slowly into the den. it was, of course, in the hands of some one perched in the window of the attic belonging to the empty house so close by; and jack could easily guess now who that person must be. scissors dempsey, once his friend, but latterly a crony of ted slavin! now the end of the rod seemed to hover above the little box containing all that were left of jack's old coins. and even as he and paul looked they saw it descend until the light box was tilted partly over, when the point of the long rod was pushed into it vigorously. jack was reminded somewhat of a human hand groping about. and then, as the fishing pole was rapidly withdrawn, he saw one of his few remaining old coins sticking to the black lump at its terminus! the game was now clear. scissors, inspired by a love of fun, or a desire to mystify jack, perhaps make him suspect that one of his chums was taking the coins, had come every day into this empty house belonging to his father. whenever he found the window in jack's den open he amused himself with this strange fishing. paul beckoned to his chum, and then silently crept out of the den, which he was easily enabled to do, thanks to the screen he had placed to cover the open door. once down on the next landing jack clutched his sleeve. "well, would you dream of such a thing as that?" exclaimed the latter, nearly ready to explode with laughter, yet feeling a bit angry at the same time. "what under the sun d'ye suppose he's doing such a stunt for, paul?" "we'd better put it up to scissors," replied the other, quickly. "then you suggest waiting for him as he comes out, and telling him we know all about his fishing for my coins?" asked jack. "come along. he might be satisfied with just one to-day. you see it's getting harder, with so few left in the box," and paul led the way downstairs again. "but what's he got on the end of that pole?" demanded his chum. "i think it must be a lump of rather soft tar, or pitch," came paul's answer, readily enough. "i found a little on one of the coins left the last time we examined them; and you said that the fourth stuck to the side of the box. yes, that's what it is. now, let's wait over by the front door, for that's the way he goes in." five minutes later the front door of the empty house opened, and a tall boy, with spindly legs, came slily out. he stopped to turn a key in the lock. then, as he wheeled, it was to find himself facing two fellows who were probably the very last boys in stanhope he expected to see. "just in time to explain how you came to think of that clever little fishing dodge of yours, scissors," remarked paul; "and to give back all those old coins you've been raking in so smartly. thought it lots of fun, didn't you? and meant to twist my chum up so he'd think one of his own crowd had been taking them?" "yes," jack said, in turn, looking as angry as he could; "and if you don't turn every blessed copper piece over to me right away, there's going to be trouble at your house, understand that, scissors?" the guilty one turned red in the face. then he laughed as though he wanted to consider it a joke. "oh! come off!" he exclaimed, with a gesture of disgust; "can't you take a little fun, jack? of course i meant to give 'em all back again, after i'd had my sport out of the game, and got the last coin. they're upstairs here, right now. come along in, and i'll show you. the slick trick is gone up in smoke now, anyway; since you got on to my curves. but i wouldn't make such a big fuss over nothing." "it wasn't the coins, because they don't count for much; but just think how i felt at even suspecting that some fellow who was my friend had been taking them," said jack, as he and paul followed scissors into the empty house. and from the sneer on the other's face as he looked back, paul was inclined to believe that this was just what he had been doing the thing for. he disliked jack as much now as he had once cared for him; and would probably enjoy nothing better than to see him turn on some friend, perhaps even his best chum. the coins were found, as he had said, in a marble-bag in the attic. while jack was counting them, paul knelt at the window, and experimented with the long fishing rod he found on the floor. he discovered that he could manage to tilt the little box on the table quite easily, though it needed some labor before he brought one of the coins across the open space, glued to the pitch at the point of the rod. "all there, ain't they?" demanded scissors. "yes," replied jack; "though so sticky i'll have to wash them in something like benzine. perhaps you did do it for a lark, scissors; but i'll make sure that a screen is in that window whenever it's open after this." "huh! i guess the feller that invented this racket could get up somethin' just as good if he wanted," and that was all scissors ever said about it to the boy he had wronged. jack, having recovered his property, did not care to do anything further about the robbery. later on scissors himself told his cronies, thinking it to his credit; and they more than a few times tried to joke jack about his disappearing coins. but he took it all in good humor, and after a while the thing was apparently forgotten, because the boys of stanhope had many other things of importance to engage their undivided attention. chapter xxxi well done stanhope troop!--conclusion days and weeks passed. in season and out, the boys of industrious stanhope troop worked. never had the good people known such a wave of enthusiasm to sweep over the town on the bushkill. it seemed as catching as the measles, this spirit of energy, and a desire to do things worth while, which had taken possession of most of the boys. parents got together, and conferring, admitted that this new fad was by all odds the best thing that had ever happened. they determined to encourage it to the limit. even those who were doubtful at the start, found themselves obliged to admit that never before had stanhope presented such a clean appearance; and not within the recollection of the oldest inhabitant had boys been so obliging. after the stanhope troop had been fully received into the national organization an efficient scout master was finally secured in the person of a young man by the name of alec gordon. he had lately come from visiting across the water, where he had enjoyed the personal acquaintance of several leading lights in the scout movement in england. besides that, he was naturally fond of the woods, and best of all, filled with a deep love for the boy of to-day. under his guidance the troop prospered, and made rapid progress along the lines started by paul. the only trouble about the whole matter was that mr. gordon, being a traveling man, was liable to be called away just when his presence might be most needed. several times this had occurred, and feeling the need of leaving a deputy to fill his place, he put it up to the boys themselves. of course there had not been a dissenting vote; and paul was elected to play the part of guide, should an emergency arise; and in this way he became assistant scout master of the troop. they need have no fear concerning his ability to fill the rôle. he had proven equal to the task before now; and there were not a few, particularly among those acknowledging the magical red fox as their totem, who secretly cherished a belief that paul knew more about the secrets of nature than any _two_ mature scout masters. every chance that offered the scouts were abroad, as busy as bees in the honey season; only instead of laying up sweets these energetic chaps sought new information. they followed the trails of fox, 'coon and rabbit; they watched the habits of the noisy crows holding a caucus in the woods; they kept company with the red squirrel and the frolicsome chipmunk as they stored away the chestnuts and juicy hickories for their winter's supply of food. and on every occasion they labored to make themselves perfect in those branches of wood lore, and the knowledge of useful things, which they expected would play a prominent part in the approaching competition. just as paul and wallace had predicted, it was found that nearly every fellow had a love for nature and her wonderful secrets somewhere in his system; even though with a few this breath had to be fanned vigorously in order to keep it alive. of course they were annoyed again and again by ted slavin and his envious followers; for the bully of the town had drifted back to his old ways, as might have been expected. when peaceful tactics failed to stop these malicious tricks, the scout master personally appealed to the authorities, and a warning was issued that, for a time at least, dismayed the disturbers of the meetings. but when they could do so in secret, they never lost an opportunity to play some sly trick. another thing that had been anticipated came to pass. this was the utter failure of ward's cronies to maintain any interest in the duties of scouts. those twelve cardinal virtues that must at all times be held up before the fellow who expects to become and remain a boy scout in good standing, failed to appeal to these rough and ready chaps. it would indeed require a revolution in boy nature to make ted slavin, or his crony, scissors, trustworthy, loyal, helpful to others, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient to his superior officers, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent! just a few days before thanksgiving the scout master came to paul with the distressing news that he had received an imperative summons from his firm to go out on the road; so that it would debar him from being present when the long-looked-for-competition took place. "but," said mr. gordon, as he shook paul by the hand earnestly; "i firmly believe that you will be able to fill my place so well that my absence will not make the slightest difference," and paul, of course, simply said he would do his best. the fellows of stanhope troop knew full well what that "best" meant. but as the boys of manchester troop and that of aldine as well, learned through some of their energetic scouts, what a strong bid these patrols of the fox were going to make, in the hope of winning that coveted banner, they seemed to be stirred to make new endeavors. paul managed to keep advised of pretty much all that was going on; since this was a part of a scout's duty; though no mean advantage was ever taken of the rival camps--he would not stand for that. in a quiet way he had learned how their meetings became more frequent, and the desire to excel, that had threatened to dwindle away for lack of rivalry, grew more keen. paul was glad of it. competition is the life of trade; but it also encourages boys to do their level best. there would be a brave fight for that banner; and no walk-over. the troop that won it might well be proud of the honor. and paul was still full of faith. he watched his scouts go through their various interesting stunts with a growing conviction that they must stand at the head when the day came for the meeting, and the report of the committee appointed to make the test was declared. he knew that fortune had been very kind in allowing himself and jack to make a heavy score in favor of stanhope troop. the stopping of the runaway horse, and the saving of the baby at the fire would bring them many points. then there was the wonderful letter from washington, on official paper too, in which mr. jared pender told the story of how much he had been helped by the red fox patrol in his task of capturing those desperate rascals who were flooding the whole country with their bogus money. but paul was determined that, aside from the help afforded by these glorious deeds, the boys of stanhope should excel all others in their knowledge of woodcraft, and the valuable things every boy with red blood in his veins should possess. so they kept up the good work after the scout master had left them. long since had bobolink received his bugle, and william his drum. both proved very able in managing these musical instruments, and the shrill notes of the one, and the roll of the other, had become very familiar and acceptable sounds in stanhope these fall days, when the first snow made its appearance. already had they planned a great camp for the next summer, and there was talk of a grand hike into the almost unknown, to them, country far to the north. what strange adventures were destined to befall them during this eventful outing, together with the fun that william and bobolink afforded the troop, will be recounted in the next volume, to be called: "the banner boy scouts on a tour; or, the mystery of rattlesnake mountain." even at school the teachers noticed that things seemed to move along much more smoothly than ever before. some of them were inclined to suspect that a miracle had been wrought in boy nature; until it was shown that there were still quite a number of transgressors, and that not one of the bad ones belonged to the scouts. that opened their eyes, and after such evidence they were one and all heartily in favor of the organization that kept lads interested, taught them every noble duty that would make them better men later on, caused them to be manly, heroic, self-confident in time of sudden peril, and able to stand up for their rights. thanksgiving came at last. the entire county showed a keen interest in the rivalry of the three troops for leadership. each had its sturdy backers, who believed their home company to be the best; and hence when the choice of situation fell to manchester, it looked as though nearly the entire population of stanhope and aldine had also gathered to cheer their favorites on. the competition was keenly contested. a dozen different events had been scheduled some time back by the committee, as the more important elements that would enter into the struggle; and the scout master of each patrol had been notified, so that he might select those most competent to succeed. scout master gordon, and later on his deputy, paul, had been working with those who excelled in these various lines. nothing was left undone to make them proficient in their work. when the critical time came, and before the eyes of thousands they lined up before the committee to take the test, paul believed that success was sure to come. football was in the air for the afternoon; but that morning every school flag fluttered in that densely packed field where the arena was laid. scores upon scores of pretty girls clapped their hands, and sang patriotic songs that had reference to their particular town, whenever a stanhope, a manchester or an aldine competitor started to prove his superior knowledge of the arts of woodcraft. wallace carberry brought the first honors to the red fox patrol. he had his quart of water boiling a full minute before either of his rivals; and retired amid thunderous applause. wallace would show up in several other events, for he was the mainstay of paul's contesting delegation. then came other interesting object lessons. many present failed to understand altogether what they signified; but they were patriotic, and ready to cheer the victor to the echo. on account of the lateness of the season several events that might have taken place at another time were debarred, such as swimming, fishing, and sports peculiar to the good old summer time. nevertheless, there were plenty of others equally as interesting. three boys entered as contestants in the rapid photography class. they took a snap shot at a given word, darted into separate prepared dark rooms, developed their plates, dried the same, each after his own fashion, and presented a completed picture before the other competitions were done. meanwhile three others showed just how a scout should learn to follow a difficult trail, where all manner of obstacles stood in the way. while the crowd could not fully understand just how this was done, the committee seemed unanimous in awarding the victory once more to wallace, for he had not made a single error, and he finished ahead of his rivals. others were set to work tying ten difficult knots, and the fun waxed fast and furious as they worked their nimble fingers, keeping an eye on each other the while. in another place three tents were given to squads of boys from each patrol, and at the word they set to work to erect the same, dig a water drain in case of rain, and have everything in "apple-pie" shape. the committee gave plain warning that it was not speed alone that would count here, but the general ship-shape condition following the carrying out of the conditions. and again the boys of the stanhope troop came in winners by a good margin. manchester drew a prize when the contest of landing a big fish came on. a boy played the part of the fish, and fought with all his strength and cunning to keep from being reeled in. but big carl evans, the manchester fisherman, proved to be too strong and able for those who competed, and had his fish landed minutes ahead. the archers then took a turn. here aldine presented a clever expert, who had made this his especial hobby for some years. he could not be headed, though the other fellows from stanhope and manchester really made a very creditable showing. one of the most interesting exhibitions of the morning, and one that excited considerable cheering, was the "first aid to the injured." a boy was supposed to have fallen overboard into the river. in each case several contestants pretended to drag him out, placing him face downward, with his arms above his head, and his face a little to one side. then one of the rescuers knelt astride the body, allowing his hands to press upon the spaces between the short ribs. by pressing downward the air was forced from the other's lungs, to creep in again when this was relaxed; and in this fashion an artificial respiration was induced that should grow stronger as minutes passed. of course, as no boy was so accommodating as to fall into the cold waters of the bushkill for the occasion, the contestants finished at the same time. the committee, after mature consultation, awarded the victory to the team accomplishing their work in the most business-like fashion. aldine was so fortunate as to receive the award, and her people shouted themselves hoarse. in athletics the three competing troops proved very nearly even; and brought out rounds of cheers as they followed one another in carrying out the several events scheduled. possibly when william proved his great superiority as a camp cook, by making the batter, and cooking a luscious flap-jack long before any other fellow could accomplish the feat, his victory was the most popular one of the day. fully five score of fellows made motions to prove they were starved, and that a bite from the airy pancake would possibly serve as a life saver. but after the committee had tested it, william calmly devoured the balance, to the tune of mingled groans and cheers. last of all came the wig-wagging contest, when boys sent and received messages fashioned by the committee, the nature of which was unknown at the other end. in this stanhope again made a record that put her boys in the van, for paul had secured and studied the army manual on using the signal flags, and to good advantage. after the twelfth and last event had been completed, the committee went into session, examined the papers they already held, and finally announced that stanhope had carried off the prize with six clean events, the others being equally divided between the two clever troops from the other towns. it was undoubtedly a popular victory, judging from the record-breaking volume of noise that greeted the announcement. what else the chairman would have said, with regard to the great good the establishment of these patrols had brought to the county, was drowned in the wild clamor. paul, acting for the absent scout master, accepted the beautiful banner presented by the good old quaker who loved peace above all things. he was immediately swept off his feet, and carried in triumph around the field, waving the emblem that would from that hour stamp the stanhope troop as the banner boy scouts of the county. little paul cared that some frowned, or that ward kenwood sneered as the procession marched past. close by he could see the happy face of arline, together with those of his parents; and it satisfied him to know that through his unflagging perseverance he had been able to land his scouts in the van. other trials and contests would doubtless have to be encountered; but with that banner to encourage then the fox patrols could meet each emergency as it arose, and struggle on through difficulties to a glorious success. the end transcriber's note - the position of the illustrations has been changed to better fit with the context. the frontispiece illustration noted in the "list of illustrations" is missing from the original book upon which this digital version is based and therefore its location has not been indicated. - illustration captions in {brackets} have been added by the transcriber for reader convenience. - in general, geographical references, spelling, hyphenation, and capitalization have been retained as in the original publication. this includes a few inconsistencies across the text. for example, the word "tomorrow" is more or less equally written as both "tomorrow" and "to-morrow". - minor typographical errors--usually periods and commas--have been corrected without note. - significant typographical errors have been corrected. a full list of these corrections is available in the transcriber's corrections section at the end of the book. * * * * * captain ted captain ted _a boy's adventures among hiding slackers in the great georgia swamp_ by louis pendleton author of "king tom and the runaways," "lost prince almon," "in the camp of the creeks," etc. [illustration: {seal}] illustrated d. appleton and company new york london copyright, , by d. appleton and company printed in the united states of america to the fighting youth of america this story of a brave and devoted boy is confidently inscribed list of illustrations facing page the beast obeyed an impulse stronger than fear and leaped _frontispiece_ they closed in hand-to-hand combat the contending creatures, fast in each other's grip, rapidly drew nearer with a wild cry jackson jumped--too late! captain ted i ted and hubert were proud of the commission and felt that much depended on them. ted led the way, not merely because he was past fourteen and more than half a year older than his cousin, but because hubert unconsciously yielded to the captaincy of a more venturesome and resolute spirit. everything was ready for christmas at home--mince pies, fruit cake, a fat turkey hanging out in the cold--and no doubt the as yet mysteriously reserved presents would be plentiful and satisfactory. only a tree was still needed, and ted and hubert were to get it. so now, in the early afternoon of december , , they tramped up the long hill at the back of the ridgway farm toward north carolina woods of evergreens and leafless maples. the landscape as far as the eye went was white with snow, but its depth, except in drifts, was only about two inches. ted dragged a sled with rope wherewith to strap the tree thereon. hubert trudged beside him--always a little behind--carrying a heavy sharp hatchet. "aunt mary said we must get a good one, small size, and i'm going to hunt till we do," said ted. "papa says it isn't everybody who'll have all we'll have this christmas," remarked hubert. "he says it's great to have a farm as well as a town house and perduce your own food in war time." "'produce'--not 'perduce,'" corrected ted. about two-thirds of the way up the long white stretch of hillside the boys paused on the brink of a pit that had been dug years before by a thick-witted settler in a hopeless quest for the gold that was then profitably mined some ten miles away. the pit was about twenty-five feet deep at its middle and perhaps thirty-five in diameter--an excavation at once too large and too small to pay for the great labor of filling in. so it had been left as it was. the snows of the windy hillside had drifted into it until the bottom was deeply covered. the boys paused only to take a look into the "big hole" and then went on their way up the remaining stretch of open hillside. they explored the woods for a quarter of a mile or more before they found just the sort of slenderly tapering and gracefully branching spruce that they wanted. in no great while this was cut down, the spreading branches were roped in, and the trunk tied on the sled, which was then dragged out into the open. the long descent toward the distant farm-house was gradual enough to render sledding safe yet steep enough at points to make dragging burdensome. ted declared that the easiest way to get down with their load was to slide down, and hubert agreed. "but we'd better look out for the pit," added hubert. "oh, we'll aim so as to leave that away to one side," said ted confidently. and so they did. after a running start, ted leaped on the sled, straddling the trunk of the christmas tree, and hubert flung himself with a shout into the trailing branches, upon which he secured a firm hold. away they went, shouting happily, now quite forgetting the pit in their excitement. they only laughed when they bumped into a snow-covered obstruction and were swerved to the left of their intended course. they laughed again when another bump carried them still further to the left. a third mishap of the same kind awoke ted to the danger, but too late. he had hardly begun to kick his heels into the snowy surface whirling past, in an effort to change their course, and to shout, "look out!" in great alarm, when hubert, whose view was obstructed by the branches of the spruce, became aware of a sudden silence and felt himself sinking through space. the younger boy scarcely realized that they had gone over the brink of the pit until he found himself floundering at the bottom in the snow, which happily was deep enough to break the force of their fall and save them from injury. as soon as he found that neither hubert nor himself had been harmed, ted laughed over their struggles in snow up to their waists, but hubert thought it was no laughing matter and accusingly inquired why they had done such a foolish thing. "we certainly were fools to try it," admitted ted, sobering. he floundered up to a higher level of the pit's bottom where the snow was only about two feet deep, extended a hand to hubert, and then pulled the tree-laden sled after them. "now, how are we going to get out?" he asked excitedly. "we can't get out," said hubert, looking around at the pit's steep sides. "but we _must_, hu. anyhow, somebody's sure to come along." but nobody did. they shouted again and again, as time passed, and listened in vain for an answer. meanwhile ted tried every means of escape he could think of. he first proposed to cut steps into the side of the pit, but the hatchet could not be found. hubert had either lost his grip on it as they were sledding down the hill or it was now somewhere under the deep snow in the bottom of the pit. ted next proposed to throw the rope around a sapling that hung over the very brink some fifteen feet above their heads. he therefore unstrapped the christmas tree from the sled, coiled half the rope, and attempted to throw it over the sapling. several times he succeeded in throwing the coil as high as the top of the pit, but always failed to throw it around the little tree. "oh, it's no use," groaned hubert at last. "we'll never get out." "now, hu, you mustn't give up," urged ted. "boy scouts don't give up. we'll get out somehow. think of the good times coming when we visit camp hancock and go hunting with uncle walter in the okefinokee." "but we'll have to stay here till tomorrow and we'll freeze to death. i'm nearly frozen now." "now, hu, you quit that," rebuked ted, although profoundly discouraged himself. "jump up and down and swing your arms if you're cold, but don't do the baby act. think of the soldiers in the trenches and what they have to stand. our own american boys are in the trenches now, and do you think one of them would whimper because it was cold or wet, or even if a bomb dropped in on them?" "but they can get out and we can't," tearfully argued hubert. "yes!--they can go 'over the top' and charge the enemy and meet cannon balls and liquid fire and poison gas and---- oh, hu, this is _nothing_! can't we be soldiers enough to stand just a hole in the ground with snow in it?" hubert had his doubts, but he was silenced. he exercised his numb limbs, as advised, and watched ted as he prepared to make experiment of still another plan. with his pocket-knife ted picked stones out of the side of the pit until he found one he thought might serve his purpose--an oblong, jagged bit of rock around which the rope could be securely tied. again and again ted threw this stone--the rope trailing after it--without succeeding in sending it around the sapling. the sun had set and hubert's teeth chattered as he wept, when, almost ready to give up, it occurred to ted to toss the stone up with both hands and all his strength, aiming half a foot to the right of the leaning sapling. this carried the stone higher than it had gone before and, at the second trial, it struck the incline above the tree, rolled and came down on the other side, carrying the rope around the trunk and bringing it within reach of ted's hand, who drew it down and quickly tied the two ends together. within five minutes the boy had clambered out of the pit. then hubert began his struggle to follow, but ted stopped him, insisting that both the sled and the christmas tree be drawn out first. this having been accomplished with considerable difficulty, hubert, with the rope tied round his waist, was assisted to the upper level after much effort and some strain on the part of both boys. "i'll never slide down that hill again," vowed hubert, as they neared the cheeringly lighted farm-house, dragging sled and tree. but ted only said: "i'm glad we got out without help. i'm glad we fell in, too, because it was a little bit like being soldiers in the trenches." hubert ridgway was the petted son of the house they were entering, while theodore carroll was but a semi-adopted orphan cousin who, though well cared for, had known no pampering. this accounted in part for the latter's greater energy and self-reliance, but perhaps there was something in this lean, dark, keen-eyed handsome boy from inheritance that the fair-haired, plump, ease-loving hubert lacked. ted knew little about his parents, and rarely asked questions because he observed a slight note of disapproval when his aunt and his uncles answered, but he had heard more than once that his father was "a poet who nearly died in the poor-house" and that his mother was "high-strung and artistic"--whatever that might mean. his parents had missed life's material prizes and come to early death, but they had lived intensely; and the son of their blood, alert, eager, fully alive in both body and brain, was likewise inclined to look beyond the mere pleasures of the senses toward the higher and more truly substantial values. the difference between the two boys was indicated not only in their mishap of the afternoon but as they sat and talked in the warm, comfortable sitting-room after supper. hubert could not spare a thought for anything but the coming christmas presents which he hoped were many and varied, including heaps of good things to eat. ted was happily expectant also, but he thought and spoke much more about the promised visit to camp hancock and the hunting trip to follow in the okefinokee swamp. ted usually spent part of the year with his uncle in north carolina and the other part with his uncle in southern georgia, attending school in both states. he knew that his georgia uncle, who was his favorite, wanted him all the time, and he preferred the easy-going life on the big farm near the borders of the okefinokee; but he traveled back and forth because his north carolina uncle, though really indifferent, made a virtue of insisting on the arrangement entered into when the widow carroll promptly followed her poet-husband to another world and her brothers recognized their duty to look after her son. this winter the georgia uncle had invited both boys, proposing to take them on a hunting trip in the great swamp, and--to the delight of ted--it was arranged for them to stop at augusta and visit camp hancock on their way down. "i can't wait till i see my christmas presents," said hubert as they were going to bed. "_i_ can hardly wait till i see camp hancock and thousands of soldiers," said ted. "camp hancock and the okefinokee are _my_ two great christmas presents." ii but it was late in february before they saw camp hancock. meanwhile the boys continued at school and ted, in his leisure, read everything he could find about the cantonments in georgia and elsewhere in addition to keeping up with the war news as usual. for more than a year now he had read the papers eagerly every day and in consequence, as hubert expressed it, could "talk a blue streak" about the war. hubert, who was no reader and was content to get his news at second hand, thought ted knew all about the situation in england, france, italy, russia and even germany. obviously this was a slight exaggeration, but ted did grip much current information, and he was never unwilling to give hubert and other boys the benefit of his knowledge. during the time of waiting ted received a letter from his uncle walter in georgia which greatly interested him. bring your boy scout uniform when you come down [it read.] i was glad to hear you had earned the right to wear it by first-rate examinations, and i want to see you in it. this pleased ted the more because he did not often wear his khaki in north carolina. the reason for this was that his sensitive and quick perceptions unerringly informed him that the sight of it was not quite agreeable to his perfectly polite aunt mary and uncle fred. having failed to pass the examinations, hubert had no boy scout uniform and ted's was a reminder that the son and heir had not measured up to the standard of the orphan cousin. and perhaps [uncle walter's letter continued] your soldierly uniform may make an impression on the slackers hiding in the okefinokee if we should run across any of them when we take that hunting trip. it is reported that some of the backwoods boys of this county evaded registration and are now camping on an island far in the okefinokee in order to escape being drafted into the war. the sight of your uniform and a tongue-lashing from me, with well-grounded threats of prosecution and punishment, may make them ashamed of themselves and perhaps even scare them into their duty. the suggested effect of ted's uniform on fugitives from the draft was little more than jest, but ted accepted it quite seriously and was at once thrilled with ambition and aspiration. his prospective hunting trip into the okefinokee took on the character of a mission in his country's service. was he not actually in the country's service now that the president had made the , boy scouts of america "dispatch bearers" in the matter of the circulation among the people of "bulletins of public information"? would not the government also be willing and even pleased for him to undertake to show the hiding draft-evaders the error of their way? what if he could really find them and persuade them to renounce their cowardly course, thus contributing more fighters to the armies of uncle sam! but when he spoke of his glorious plan, the unimaginative and unaspiring hubert merely said: "if you can get at them, you'll talk a blue streak about the war, all right; but what good will that do such fellows? _they_ don't care. papa says slackers can think only of their own skins." "there's nothing like trying," insisted ted, accustomed to discouraging comment and not in the least inclined to abandon his scheme. at last the impatiently awaited hour for their departure arrived and the two boys boarded the train for augusta. they were almost too excited for speech when, early in the morning of a fine day, their train rolled into the georgia city widely famed for the great war cantonment in its neighborhood, and they looked forth to see groups of young men in khaki tramping its streets. they were met at the station by lieut. john markham, a cousin of both boys who was with the pennsylvanians at camp hancock because his mother, another sister of the ridgway brothers, had married a philadelphian and lived many years in the city by the delaware. never will ted forget that day. as he and hubert took the train that night for southern georgia he declared that his eyes were "dead tired from so much looking." first they drove out to the camp and over its extensive area, wherein ted's wish to see thousands of soldiers was abundantly gratified. later they walked about, saw the quarters of the officers, looked into the tents of the privates, and at many points watched the soldiers drill, drill, drill--infantry drill, physical drill, bayonet exercise and target practice. they even found opportunity in the course of another long drive to witness actual firing of field artillery on a ten-mile range, and, as the sound of the great guns lifted the awed boys to their highest pitch of excitement, they felt that they saw war in the making indeed. but the most inspiring sight of all, to ted, was the infantry drill. the measured, simultaneous movement of so many men, to the beat of drums and the martial airs of the bands, thrilled the boy from head to foot, and it seemed to him that all things centered in this brave and beautiful array which it was his wonderful privilege to see. as he looked and listened, he would not have changed places with a king, and for the moment to have been anywhere else in the world but at camp hancock would have been like exile from all that he held dear. they also looked at the experimental military bridge building of the engineering corps and inspected the practice trenches, learning that the extensive system of the latter had been built under the personal supervision of french and english officers. both ted and hubert asked many questions and much was explained to them--points about the first-line trenches and the great communicating ditches that led off zigzag instead of straight in the rear, "so that they could not be enfiladed" by the enemy's cannon. at noon they dined with lieut. markham in the officers' quarters of his regiment. this in itself was a great event and ted could hardly eat for watching and learning the rank of each, his interest heightening when two or three french and english officers were pointed out to him. with the eye of a hawk he noted the manners of the french, the british and the americans, hoping to achieve a successful imitation. several of the friends of cousin john were very attentive to the delighted and flattered boys, being especially polite to ted who proudly thought they recognized a coming comrade in a boy scout in khaki. "now let's go to the bayonet run and see the boys spit the boches," said lieut. markham early in the afternoon. this was one of the forms of bayonet exercise, and both boys watched it absorbed, fascinated, oblivious of everything else in the great camp. strapping young fellows in khaki sprinted up an incline, leaped over obstructions in their path, and plunged down toward suspended dummies, at which or through which they thrust their bayonets. this was spitting or impaling the boches in a bayonet charge. "why do they call them 'boches,' cousin john?" asked hubert, quite superfluously in the opinion of ted, who knew already. "it's a french nickname for the germans--not very complimentary," was the answer. "means something like 'blockhead,' i'm told." at the railway station in augusta that night, as they took leave of their kindly kinsman, who had exerted himself both to entertain and instruct, ted could hardly take his mind off the vivid and crowding recollections of the day, but he did not forget his manners. "it's been a great day and you've been just lovely to us, cousin john," he said. "i can never thank you enough." "i wanted you to see all you could," said lieut. markham, smiling and patting ted on the shoulder, "because you'll take your turn here or in some other camp after a while--if the war lasts long enough." this prospect brought thrills and delighted smiles to ted, but he checked the first words that rushed upon his tongue--reflecting that it might be wrong to hope that the war would last long enough--and only said, with the manner of one already devoted to a cause: "yes, i'll be here--if the war lasts." iii the boys had to change cars and "lay over" several hours at an intervening point, and so it was night again when they left the train at their destination, a small town near the eastern borders of the okefinokee swamp. their uncle walter met them and they drove with him out to his big farm. at the station they noted that passing acquaintances addressed him respectfully as judge ridgway, but there was no overpowering dignity about him that they could see. he seemed almost like an elderly boy who accepted them as comrades in his own class, so jolly and friendly was he. as they drove the five miles through the dark pine woods, he talked enthusiastically of the coming trip into the okefinokee and told them hunting stories. "if you boys should get lost from me," he said once, "and get mixed up with wild animals after your ammunition has run out, fight 'em with fire if you can. i've done it. i did it when i was a boy, too. my father moved to a wild part of texas when i was about twelve and stayed out there four years. and once a pack of wolves got after me when i happened to be alone in a camp without a gun. i thought my time had come, but i actually whipped that pack of wolves without a thing to shoot with. there was a good fire burning and i hugged it close. i noticed that they seemed afraid of it and that gave me an idea. i threw on more wood and then began to fling blazing chunks among my howling enemies. it did the business. i actually threw a big live coal into the open mouth of the nearest beast, and such a yelping and running you never saw! i flung burning chunks until there was mighty little fire left, but i put the whole pack to flight. wild animals are all cowards when it comes to fire, so you must never fail to have plenty of matches. but you won't see any wolves in the okefinokee these days. we may get a bear, though, and bear steak is not bad when you're hungry. i'd consider it mighty good on one of these 'meatless' days." uncle walter continued to be merry and talkative, with a good story for every occasion, after they reached the big, rambling farm-house and while they ate the bountiful supper served by a young black waiter directed by a fat negress, but he had hardly lighted his pipe by the fireside in the sitting-room later when news came that at once made him serious and regretful. a special messenger brought a telegram and when he had read it his face fell. "boys, this is too bad," he said. "i've got to go to washington by the first train and our hunting trip will have to be postponed." "we'll get along all right--till you come back," said ted, struggling with his disappointment and trying to look cheerful. "but i don't know how soon i can get back. it's an important matter and may take time. while i'm gone you boys can hunt as much as you please, in the woods around the place and along the edge of the okefinokee, but don't venture into the swamp itself. you might get lost." both boys promised to be careful, and then their uncle rang a bell. when the fat negress who had overseen the serving of the supper entered the room, he said to her: "well, clarissa, i've got to go to washington and leave these boys in your care. it's a pity your mis'es is not here." he referred to his sister who was away on a visit. uncle walter was a bachelor. "dat's all right, mr. walter," good-naturedly responded the negress, whom the boys understood that they were to address respectfully as "aunt clarissa" in the old-time southern fashion. "you kin trus' me to feed 'em up all right and keep 'em in clean clothes and clean sheets." "they are to have the run of the place and go hunting as much as they like," uncle walter directed. "and if they get tired of it out here they can go to town and visit cousin jim fraser. i told him about them and he'll be glad to have them." "all right, suh," the negress assented. "if dey goes off and don't come back, i'll know dey's in town at mr. jim's." "now go and call asa; i want to give him some directions," said uncle walter, and the negress retired. the boys were sorry to hear at breakfast next morning that their uncle had gone, but there was much to see and do in his absence and they were pretty sure of an interesting time even without him. it was with no lack of cheerfulness that they shouldered their small bird-guns and started forth in the fine sunny air. though february had not quite gone and it was still winter according to the calendar, already wild violets were peeping through the frost-browned wiregrass and dogwood and honeysuckle blossoms were perfuming the air in the long-leaf pine forests which surrounded the farm and seemed to have no end. to ted there was nothing novel in these vast stretches of pine woods as level as a floor, but to hubert, who had known only the north carolina hills, the south georgia country was almost like a new world. the boys spent most of the day hunting in the woods about the farm, but came home disappointed, having seen few quail or doves and bagged practically nothing. "to-morrow we'll take a look at the okefinokee and hunt along the edge of it," proposed ted at supper. hubert agreed, adding, as "aunt" clarissa offered them more hot waffles: "and if we get tired of that, we'll go to town and see cousin jim." when they were about to start off next morning hubert critically called attention to the fact that ted was still dressed in his khaki. "are you going to wear that all the time?" he asked. "why shouldn't i if i like? in a way i am in the government's service and this is my uniform." ted spoke quite seriously. "_you_ in the government's service!" scoffed hubert. "didn't you know the president has made all the boy scouts dispatch bearers? when i get the pamphlets i am to distribute, you'll see me in the service all right." hubert soon forgot his skepticism and envy in the interest he found in their expedition. inquiring the way from a negro encountered on the public road, the boys tramped straight in the direction of the great swamp. for about three miles the path led through open, level, wiregrass-carpeted pine woods; then gradually a downward slope was perceived and soon the straggling pines were succeeded by a dense "hammock" growth, thick with underbrush, reeds and brambles, the ground becoming damp and spongy, and the more open spaces being often little more than sloppy bogs around which the young adventurers picked their way. the great okefinokee swamp, formerly some forty miles long by twenty-five wide with a vast surrounding acreage of untouched pine barrens, has been to some extent reclaimed by advancing settlement, local drainage, and the invasion at points of the insatiable lumberman; but even when ted and hubert entered its borders the greater part of it was still a wild and almost pathless acreage of tangled forest-grown bottom lands, flooded jungles, watery "prairies" or marshes, remote lakes, sluggish streams, and pine-covered islands. more than a hundred years ago a story was current that it had been the last refuge of the ancient yemassees, an indian race that disappeared before the march of the conquering creeks. it is well known to have been a stronghold of the seminoles during the florida-indian wars as well as to have furnished a secure hiding place for deserters from the confederate army during the civil war, and even in the year fugitives from the draft law could have found no more remote and safe retreat than its inner recesses afforded. at points the line of demarcation between the surrounding pine woods and the outer reaches of the swamp itself is by no means clear. a considerable acreage of low swampy land is nothing uncommon anywhere in the long-leaf pine section of southern georgia. ted had often seen such low areas far from the great swamp, and so now, without realizing what he did, he pushed forward into a section of the okefinokee itself. the point where the boys entered was thickly grown with cypress and covered in considerable part with shallow water through which they waded. this was nothing alarming, hunting in that section with dry feet being practically out of the question. after they had eaten some biscuits and rested at noon hubert urged that they turn back, but ted declared that he intended to "make a day of it" and pushed on. "we can go to town to-morrow if we want to," he said. about mid-afternoon they found themselves on the shore of a little lake, the surface of which, except near the center, was hidden by clumps of brown flags and "bonnets," a species of waterlily. visions of wild ducks, both alive and slain, now occupied ted's imagination and urged him on. he skirted more than half the way round the lake, creeping forward stealthily, before he sighted a flock of ducks within range. in his excitement he fired too quickly and the ducks fluttered away unharmed. hubert, who had remained behind, now hurried up to see what ted had shot. by this time the sun was getting low, and the younger boy insisted that they ought to take the backward trail at once in order to be out of the woods or reach the public road by night. but ted refused to start back until he had skirted the lake twice, shot three times and finally killed a duck, to secure which he waded up to his waist in the sedge. struggling out of the water with his prize, the boy hurriedly took his bearings and led the way along what appeared to be the trail by which they had come. within an hour the sun had set and the short twilight of that latitude was at hand. this would have mattered little if they had been clear of the swamp; but so far from having gained the open pine woods, they now seemed more deeply involved than ever, and were unable to recognize anything about them. ted halted and looked anxiously around. he now more than suspected that, in skirting the lake, intent on the game only, he had lost his bearings, and that in starting homeward they had taken the wrong direction. "don't be afraid, hu," he said manfully, after a few moments; "but we are lost, and we've got to stay here all night." "stay here all night!" echoed hubert, gazing around the gloomy swamp-depths through starting tears. "i _said_ we ought to turn back. i told you two or three times, but you wouldn't listen to me." "yes, it was all my fault," admitted ted. "do you think the panthers will smell us and--and--come?" asked hubert, his voice lowered. "of course not," answered ted stoutly, although he also was troubled with vague misgivings. he had never spent a night in a swamp; and the prospect of it now, under the existing circumstances, was little less than terrifying. but for the younger boy's sake as well as because of a certain pride of manliness, he determined not to betray his feelings. so he "got a grip on" himself, as he mentally phrased it, and spoke up resolutely in a steady voice: "it's no use to think of finding our way home to-night, and we had better hunt a place to camp right away." iv promptness was indeed necessary, for it was fast growing dark. after a hurried search ted selected a little open spot which was comparatively dry and covered with long grass. within two or three feet stood a large black-gum tree, which, ted reflected, could be climbed easily in an emergency; and close at hand was abundance of hemleaf and huckleberry bushes. the tops of these could be broken and piled where the boys chose to sleep, and the couch thus prepared, though not likely to suggest down, would at least protect them from the damp ground. ted next began to collect fuel, which he should have done at first. the two boys had scarcely begun this task when it became so dark that no object more than three feet distant could be distinctly seen. dry wood appeared to be very scarce, and even when they had finally started a small fire the prospect of keeping it burning throughout the night was more than doubtful. however, it gave them light whereby to break brush and gather spanish moss for their bed, and it enabled ted to dry his wet trousers. to attempt to butcher and broil the duck under present circumstances seemed too great an undertaking and so for supper they had only the sweet and tender roots of young palmetto shoots; after partaking of which unsatisfactory sustenance they found a degree of comfort in vigorously chewing sweetgum scraped from a neighboring tree. and when they lay down to sleep, covering themselves with moss, they were thankful to be warm and dry, even if still hungry. "i think i understand now," said ted, before they lay down by the dying fire. "i think we are in the okefinokee. we came in without knowing it." "and we'll never get out," groaned hubert. "oh, yes we will. i've noticed that things come out all right after a while if you keep trying," said ted philosophically. "but before we do get out we may have to tramp around a long time, and, maybe we'll find the slackers' camp. i wish we could. i'd like to talk to them and see if i couldn't persuade them----" "they'd only laugh at you," interrupted hubert, "and they might get mad and cuff you around. better let them alone." "sometimes i think they might," said ted, "but when i want to do anything very much and feel afraid of getting hurt i say to myself, 'never mind; they can't do any more to you than to kill you, and there's another world to come after this,' and i go ahead. sometimes i go ahead when i'm awfully afraid." "you can put up a big bluff, then, for you never seem afraid," said hubert. "maybe they'll start to hunt for us by morning," he added hopefully, abruptly changing the subject. "not if aunt clarissa thinks we've gone to cousin jim's in town, and it might be two weeks before she found out we weren't there," said ted, regretting his speech the moment it was uttered. "oh, i forgot," groaned hubert, with starting tears. "we'll never get out of this swamp." "we'll soon find our way," insisted ted. "anyhow, it does no good to fret. it does harm. i've found that it pays to keep hoping. maybe i'd be different if i'd had a mother to pet me up and make me soft. it's great to have a sweet mother, but if you don't have one you learn a lot of things for yourself." hubert made no response and ted fell silent. presently the heavy breathing of the younger boy showed that he was asleep, but ted lay awake a long while. the fire was now practically out and the darkness was intense, but it was a clear night and an occasional star could be seen through the overhanging foliage. after silently reciting the prayer he had been taught to repeat at night, ted lay close to hubert, trying to still anxious thought and sleep, but at every sound made in the brush by some little restless forest dweller, bird or beast, at every freshening of the night breeze in the leaves, he would start up and listen, his active imagination peopling the gloom about them with nameless and sometimes fearful shapes. anything definite and distinctly recognizable, permitting no vague and disturbing conjecture, was welcome, and so ted's strained attention somewhat relaxed when an owl alighted in the black-gum, lifted its eerie voice, and with insistent repetition seemed to demand--"_who-who-who-all?_" finally the boy fell into deep slumber. some hours later he was awakened by feeling hubert move and hearing his voice close to his ear: "ted, ted, wake up! i heard something." ted was wide awake in a moment. listening intently he heard a stealthy footfall, then another and another, suggesting that an animal of some size was guardedly encircling the camp. the sounds appeared to come from points little more than thirty feet away. "let's climb that tree!" proposed hubert excitedly. "it may be a panther and it may jump on us." a twig snapped under the foot of the prowling animal and panic seized both boys. grasping his gun, ted leaped to his feet and bounded toward the tree, which hubert was already climbing. after passing up his gun, ted followed nimbly. lodged in the branches of the black-gum some twenty-five feet from the ground, the boys listened intently, but now all was still. the marauder appeared to have been frightened in turn, and had either retreated or had squatted and was remaining quiet. ted began to repent of their hasty action, suggesting in a whisper that it would have been better if they had stayed where they were and built up the fire. "you remember what uncle walter said about fighting 'em with fire," he reminded hubert, adding, with a view to comfort the younger boy: "maybe it was nothing but an old cow anyhow." but hubert would not consent to descend from the tree, and so ted made himself as comfortable as possible among the spreading branches near the tree's main stem. waiting thus, wide awake and watchful, he soon noted with great relief that day was breaking. the welcome light that slowly descended and gradually dissipated the darkness of the swamp brought good cheer. with a laugh on his lips ted climbed down from their perch and was reluctantly followed by hubert. "we must go back on our tracks to the lake," proposed ted, "go all around it carefully, make sure of the right path, and start off toward home. if we have good luck, we may get there by dinner time." hubert now espied the hatchet near the bed of leafy boughs and picked it up. they then observed that the ground was covered with feathers, with here and there a few fragments of small bones, and recollected the duck which ted had shot. it was plain that the animal that had visited them during the night had enjoyed a feast at their expense. "you see, that was all it was after," laughed ted. the boys started off cheerfully on the backward trail. for the first half mile it led over soft spongy earth, wherein their tracks were easily seen; but by and by they reached a tract of many acres dotted with clumps of palmettos, where the ground was firm and thickly covered with wiregrass. here the trail was soon lost. after some time spent in a vain attempt to find it, they pushed forward in what appeared to be the right general direction only to lose all sense of even this in consequence of the excitement following an exciting event. as ted expressed it afterward, they "ran right up on a bear." the creature was engaged in pulling up young palmetto shoots and eating the sweet and tender part near the root. after each pull it would rear up on its hind legs and look cautiously over the brush in every direction. so when ted and hubert stepped into view the bear saw them on the instant and bolted, crashing loudly through the tangle of underbrush. the two boys took one long look and then fled in the opposite direction, not quite sure that the beast was pursuing them, but uncomfortably certain that their bird-guns would be scant protection. their panic over, they came to a halt, ted laughing nervously and remarking that the bear was "worse scared than we were." as to this hubert had his doubts, and he was hardly able to force a smile. looking about him upon totally unfamiliar landscape, he declared, with a catch in his voice, that they were "lost now for sure." "no, we're not, for there's the lake!" cried ted, espying a sheet of water some distance ahead of them. then they hurried forward hopefully, but only to find that the little sheet of water, though much like it, was not the one wherein the duck had been shot. it was now quite evident that they were lost several miles within the borders of the okefinokee and ignorant which way to turn. in the full realization of this hubert had to struggle very hard to keep back his tears. as for ted, he forgot all about his plan of seeking out the camp of the slackers and thought only of finding their way home. he was not too disheartened, however, to neglect a chance which offered for a shot at some ducks, and was highly elated on discovering that he had killed two and that they were within reach. having had no breakfast and being now ravenously hungry, they halted at a little stream that ran into the marshy lake, built a fire, and butchered one of the ducks. the novel experiment of cutting slices from the fat bird, suspending them from the points of long sticks, and holding them close to the coals, was persisted in until their hunger was satisfied. they were glad enough to feast upon the flesh of the duck thus roasted, although it was rendered unsavory by the lack of salt. "the thing for us to do, hu," said ted, as they rose, more cheerful, to move on, "is to keep pushing ahead where the swamp seems open. in that way we ought to find our way out after a while." following the line of least resistance as proposed, they tramped several miles and then, about mid-afternoon, were confronted by a seemingly impenetrable jungle. "we'll have to turn back now," said hubert dolefully. "no, let's go right ahead," said ted, pushing on. "we may have to travel more slowly, but we can get through, and maybe when we _do_ get through we'll be out of the swamp. i think from what i've heard that the okefinokee has a thick rim just like this round a great deal of it." in reluctantly consenting, hubert urged that they first provide themselves with "some fat lightwood splinters" for kindling. "it's low and wet down in there," he said, "and if we don't get through before night, we'll need them to make a fire." this prudent suggestion having been acted upon, ted pushed ahead, carrying his gun and the hatchet, and hubert followed, his little gun in his right hand and the bundle of kindling under his left arm. the jungle evidently covered thousands of acres and was at points so dense as to be penetrable only where wild animals had made their trails. thorny brambles often an inch thick and running great lengths added to the discomfort and difficulty of forcing a passage. everywhere the ground was wet, sometimes boggy, and in great part covered with water varying in depth from two inches to two feet. often the hatchet had to be used before they could move forward a step, and they soon bitterly regretted their decision to force their way through. but the hope of accomplishing the task led ted on until, as the sun declined, it became evident that they would be unable to retrace their steps before night. when little more than half an hour of daylight was left the boys halted to make camp at a point where the jungle was less dense. even here the water rose above their ankles and the prospect was a very gloomy one. ted had often heard how belated okefinokee hunters had been compelled to build sleeping platforms whereon to spend the night, and this the boys set about doing without delay. selecting two saplings about eight feet apart, the boys cut into them with the hatchet, at a point about three feet above the water, until they toppled and fell over in the same direction. these saplings, being young and stringy, did not entirely break from their stumps, and, while slanting gradually down to the water, offered a support to the smaller poles and brush which were bridged across from one to the other. even with the addition of moss for bed and covering, the resting-place thus secured was far from comfortable, but was to be preferred to spending the night in a tree. with their guns beside them, and their "fat" splinters and matches within reach, the boys lay down, thankful at least that it was as yet too early in spring for moccasins and other reptiles to be abroad. lying on an uncomfortable pile of boughs three feet above the stagnant water, in hunger and darkness, with little hope of finding their way home, their distress of body and mind was very severe. hubert broke down at last and sobbed, refusing to be comforted, although ted made a manful effort to do so. "we'll get out of the swamp to-morrow or find the slackers' camp," he predicted, with pretended cheerfulness. "we'll starve to death," wailed hubert. "you'll see," persisted ted. "it will be one thing or the other, and either will suit me." but they spoke little after they lay down, and that little in whispers;--as if fearing to betray their presence to some formidable beast that might lurk in the neighborhood. they were so exhausted that they soon fell into deep sleep. v if there was any tramping of wild animals about their camp that night, the boys did not hear it. they slept soundly until dawn and were then awakened by the sweet and cheering voice of a wood-thrush. they lost no time in quitting their gloomy camp-site, pushed steadily forward and about nine o'clock, to their great delight, emerged from the jungle. they now ascended the slope of an open pine ridge, upon which, at a distance of some three or four hundred yards apart, they noted three indian mounds about fifteen feet in height. ted reminded hubert of his prediction, believing that they were out of the swamp at last. but a two-hours' tramp was sufficient to convince him that they were merely on an island about three miles long by about one mile in width, and that they were probably farther away from the ridgway farm than ever. in the course of their tramp a flock of wild turkeys, some eight or ten in number, fluttered out of their path and ran rapidly ahead of them, too little alarmed at first to fly. both boys fired into them and one turkey remained struggling on the ground when the others rose. each boy thought he had bagged the game, but they were too hungry to waste time in dispute. they hurried with their prize to the nearest water, built a fire and were soon broiling substantial slices of the great bird on the coals. and after they had eaten their fill, in spite of their misfortunes they became quite cheerful. "now, hu, don't let's worry any more," advised ted. "we are going to come out all right and we are having a wonderful time. some of it is pretty tough, i know, but when it's all over we'll be so _proud_ of what we've been through! the boys who hang around home and just do the same old things, will wish awfully, when they hear about it, that they had been with us." the thought of winning renown among his playmates at home as a great and experienced adventurer was distinctly comforting to hubert, helping him to resolve to resist fear in future and meet discomfort more cheerfully. the boys felt better still when presently they made a discovery which awakened new hope. at the farther end of the island, where a dense "hammock" growth sloped down and joined hands with the swamp, which here took on the form of a deeply flooded forest, they found a boat--a small bateau scarcely capable of floating more than three persons. evidently it had been lying idle for some time. it was half full of water, but when this was bailed out it showed no serious leaks and carried the two boys safely. "that must lead out to a lake," said ted, indicating the narrow boat-road which could be seen winding away through the flooded forest. "and once on that lake, we may find our way out of the swamp. anyhow, we may meet some of the slackers. let's start right off!" hubert was loath to leave the dry open pine woods of the island and said so, but ted convinced him that there was nothing to be done but to push on. the boat-road had evidently been a good deal traveled and it was not very difficult to make headway, although the two paddles they had picked up were little more than two long sticks. as ted had surmised, the boat-road led after a few hundred yards into a long and very narrow forest-bordered lake, where feeding fishes of considerable size were "striking" here and there in a way to tempt the most indifferent angler. hubert wanted to stop to fish, but ted said that if they were to get through by night they couldn't spare the time. they did stop and drift, however, when they caught sight of a large animal swimming across their path about two hundred yards ahead. the boys grabbed their guns, but knew better than to waste bird shot on such big game. they merely watched the swimming creature in some alarm until it disappeared in the flooded forest. hubert was sure it was a panther, but ted said it might be only a lynx, perhaps even only the lesser lynx, commonly called the wild-cat. in any case, he thought, it was better to "let it go" and not "try to stir up a fight," armed as they were with mere bird-guns. while they discussed the matter, drifting, hubert unwound a fishing line he took out of his pocket. it was provided with a fly which had seen service in north carolina trout streams, and he threw it as far out as he could. to his astonishment it was taken almost immediately and he found himself pulling a large and game fish toward the boat. when finally lifted over the boat's side, it proved to be a black bass weighing about five pounds. both boys were now eager for more such sport, but ted resisted the temptation and dipped his paddle vigorously. "we've got to get somewhere before night," he said, looking at the declining sun. "maybe we can come back here some time and try 'em again." at the farther end of the lake the boat-road began again and wound on its way as before through seemingly endless flood and forest. at many points they found it more difficult to force the boat forward, but the scenery was the same. now a long winding reach of black or wine-colored lagoon bordered by trees standing knee-deep in the flood and flying a thousand ragged flags of gray moss; now a tortuous trail among the crowding trunks of both standing and fallen trees, among masses of reeds full of the drift of fallen branches, beneath low-hanging boughs dipping their finger-like leafage into the water, and tangles of vines trailing down to the very surface of dark still pools. then more and more of the thin-leafed cypresses towering on high with some of their banyan-like "knees" rising from the wine-colored flood a dozen feet from the parent stem, and others lying in wait a few inches below the surface, less perilous to the swamp boat than a sunken reef to the ocean ship, yet the most stubborn of all snags and the source of much labor and delay. by the time the boys had laboriously got clear of the third "knee" upon which their boat had stalled, and had paddled, polled and pushed altogether three or four miles, the sun was down and they found it necessary to prepare for the night. "i _said_ we ought to stay on that island," complained hubert, as he looked around into the darkening aisles of the flooded forest. "well, i didn't want to be a prisoner there if you did," retorted ted. they bailed out what water had leaked into the bateau, broke brush and gathered moss for their bed, then ate an insufficient portion of broiled turkey which they had the forethought to bring with them. they felt safer in their boat, adrift in a tree-bordered lagoon, even if dark, mysterious foliage did overhang them. perhaps this was why hubert, after they had lain down and covered themselves with moss, permitted himself to refer sarcastically to ted's prediction of the night before. "i thought you were to be out of the swamp or get to the slackers' camp by to-night," he observed, with a yawn. "oh, give me another day, can't you!" retorted ted, and, turning over, he fell asleep. they were still asleep when the dawn came down and, in slow, wondrous miracle, transformed the thick darkness of the swamp into light. the wood-thrush lifted its sweet voice in welcome of the new day, and a lovely calm seemed to rest upon the great okefinokee. but the heavenly peace of morning was not everywhere, for directly above the sleeping boys, close upon a limb of the tree under which their drifting boat had come to rest, crouched a beast which looked down upon them with a fixed, dilating stare of hate. the animal was of a grayish brown that went pale along its belly. its body looked long yet was short in proportion to the length of its powerful legs. it had a round head and face, pointed ears, yellow-green eyes and whitish-brown whiskers. its tail was a mere thick brown stump that stood up stiffly when it moved an inch or two as if to get a better look, sinking its razor-edged claws deep into the green bark. the watching lynx longed fiercely to drop upon ted's neck, so soft and red and helpless, but was held motionless by its fear of the most terrible of all its enemies--mysterious, wonderful man. nevertheless, seeing needed food, the beast obeyed an impulse stronger than fear and leaped, alighting, not upon ted, but upon the black bass at the foot of the couch of broken boughs. the boat rocked. the boys started up, blinking. the lynx growled fiercely, its teeth fastened in its prey. and then, after another and mightier leap, which rocked the boat still more, it became a mere shadow in the brush on their right, and was gone. shouting, questioning, gesticulating, and almost losing their balance, the boys sat down quickly in fear of upsetting the bateau. "what is it?" cried hubert. "it got my fish!" "a wild-cat maybe," said ted, "but it seemed bigger than i thought they were and i didn't know they had a stumpy tail." "it had fierce whiskers just like the kaiser's," asserted hubert. "look here, ted," he added solemnly, "we've got to get out of this place or something will eat us up." then ted began to laugh. and as there was nothing else to be done, there being no food, they picked up their paddles and started, breakfastless, on their way. several hours later they emerged from the flooded forest and saw before them an extensive open marsh filled with long rushes, "bonnets," and open pools, and dotted with small islands, the trees of which were hung with long gray drifts of spanish moss. as far as the eye could reach, straight ahead, to the right or to the left, nothing else was visible. with increasing weariness and hunger the boys paddled and poled about this marsh until late in the day, imagining that they were pursuing the same general course, but in reality wandering widely in the confusion of rounding the many islets. at last, in the late afternoon, they saw far ahead the green tops of some tall pines and gradually worked their way toward them, surmising that they stood either upon a large island or the mainland. as they approached within half a mile, a shallow marsh, free of the confusing islets, opened before them. in the shallower water here the rushes and water-mosses seemed to thicken steadily as they neared the shore, and it became more and more difficult to force the bateau through or over them, although the boys now followed the windings of a clearly-defined boat-trail. finally, within some three hundred yards of the shore or the wall of woods indicating an island, they were compelled to step out and drag the boat after them, sinking now to the knee, now to the waist, in slimy moss, mud and water. entering the border of trees, they pushed forward, still in water knee-deep, for about a hundred yards, before they reached a landing-place where two boats, somewhat larger than their own, were moored. "there's somebody here, _sure_," said ted, looking about hopefully. a well-beaten path led upward through the dense "hammock" between the swamp proper and the pine ridge composing the island upon which the boys had landed. under magnolia and bay trees and through tall underbrush of swamp-cane the path led to the top of the slope, where, some two hundred yards from the boats, the boys found themselves in a small clearing, beyond which the open pine land of the island stretched away monotonously. near the center of the clearing stood a house, built of rough pine logs, elevated some twelve feet from the ground on stilt-like posts; and over a fire to the right of this structure bent a man's figure. evidently he was cooking his evening meal, for the boys caught the delicious odor of frying meat. "maybe he'll give us something to eat," said hubert wistfully. just then the man stood erect, and they saw that he was a negro in rough soiled clothes. a moment later he turned his face toward them and they recognized a care-free, good-natured type of young black man with which they had had abundant acquaintance. the boys hesitated no longer. the negro heard their steps and looked up, the first bewildered expression on his black, sweat-shining face changing to one of pleased astonishment. he came forward to meet them. "w-huh you boys come fum?" he cried. then, his eyes fastening upon ted's muddy uniform, he continued, giggling delightedly: "and one of 'em is a little soldier! well, if dat don't beat all! _who_ you boys?" ted staggered slightly and sat down heavily on the grass. "please give us something to eat and then we'll tell you," he said in a weak voice. the negro showed instant sympathy. "is you boys perishin' for sump'n to eat?" he asked, regretfully. "lem me git you sump'n quick!" he rushed about and within less than two minutes had piled hot meat, fish and bread on palmetto leaves placed before the boys where they sat on the billowy wiregrass. "you boys sho kin eat," he commented, grinning, as he watched them devour the good food. "i des know you was most starvin'. you kin eat all dat and have plenty mo'." after ted had satisfied his hunger, felt strengthened, and had thanked the negro gratefully and very politely, he asked: "what camp is this?" "eight young white mens been campin' yuh since las' summer and dey brung me in to cook dey vittles. i'm july martin." "oh--this is where those slackers are hiding to keep out of the war?" said ted, stating a recognized fact in the form of a question. "dis is it, but don't tell 'em i tole you. dey's mighty partic'lar to keep people fum knowin' where dey is." "how about you?" asked ted. "negro men are being drafted for war service, too." "who, me?" laughed july, slightly uneasy. "well, you see, when mr. buck hardy come an' tole me he want me in yuh to cook for 'em, he say if i didn't do it dem draft-bode people would grab me up an' send me to de waw, and i was powerful worried. you see, de waw come so sudden; it bus' right in my face, like; an' it look like i des _had_ to take time to git in de notion to stan' up an' let dem germans shoot at me. so i tuck dis chance to make a honest livin' in a quiet place. i's makin' a livin'. dey takes up a c'lection and pays me wages for cookin' and doin' dey dirty work. and, 'sides all dat; mr. buck hardy say i des got to come in yuh wid 'em an' he wouldn' lem me say no." both boys smiled broadly, but at the conclusion of this prodigiously amusing speech ted asked: "don't you call yourself a free man? don't you think it's bad enough to be a slacker without putting the blame on somebody else?" in ordinary times july would have boasted of his freedom to come and go as he pleased, but now he desired to persist in the persuasion that he was not a free agent. "but mr. buck hardy tole me," he argued, giggling uneasily,--"he tole me if i did n' come in yuh he and dem yuther young white mens would give me de devil, an' he tole me if dem draft-bode people got me and sont me to de waw dem germans would cut my head off." "oh, confess that you are an out-and-out slacker and be done with it," said ted. "that's the only honest thing to do, you know." "look yuh, boy," said july, his good-humored face showing irritation, "you better put a bridle on dat tongue o' yours. i like to see a smart boy like you wid plenty o' spunk, and i ain't mad wid you, but lem me give you a piece o' advice: if you go talkin' dat-a way to mr. buck hardy and dem young white mens, you gwine to git into trouble. you sho will." "who is mr. buck hardy?" asked hubert, diplomatically, prudently deciding that it was time to check ted by changing the subject. "he's de ring-leader. he's de cock o' de walk in dis camp." "what is the name of this island?" asked ted, looking around. "i hear 'em say, but i disremember," answered july with seeming sincerity. "a mighty good name for it would be deserters' island,'" remarked ted, rising to join hubert, who now stood by the fire drying his wet trousers. vi as the boys stood steaming by the fire, ted using his wet handkerchief to clean the mud and slime from his trousers, more questions were asked, and in response to inquiry as to the present whereabouts of the hiding slackers, the negro said: "dey ain't come in yet. some of 'em runnin' a deer and some gone to dey traps." july pointed to the skins hanging from grape-vines and bear-grass ropes under the elevated house of logs and beneath a low shelter of thatched palmetto fans. "dey in de trappin' business," he added. at this moment some one was heard coming through the brush, singing in a peculiar childish voice: "open the gates as high as the sky and let king george's army pass by." "dat's billy," said july. "he ain't got good sense." a barefoot young white man, roughly clothed, entered the clearing at a trot and ran up to the two boys. fixing his eye on ted, he inquired with a giggle, "what's your name?" when ted had told him, he turned to hubert with the same question. his hair was light in color and soft as a child's, but his face was wrinkled and wore a meaningless smile. his pale eyes were vacant yet restless. "he's sweet jackson's nigger same as i'm mr. buck hardy's," explained july, showing his white, even teeth. "i found him in yuh waitin' on sweet when i come. but mr. hardy don't cuff me round de way sweet do billy. _he_ don't think nothin' o' takin' a stick to dat half-witted boy when he git mad. it's scan'lous." it appeared from july's remarks to ted, while billy still questioned hubert, that "sweet"--a curious illustration of the adhesiveness of cracker nursery nicknames--was second only to buck in importance and influence among the slackers. yet sweet was not liked, being often sullen and ill-tempered, while buck, the "cock of the walk," a great stalwart fellow with a waste of muscle and a kindly disposition, was generally popular. the tramp of approaching feet was now heard and july turned hurriedly to the fire, where he had been frying cornbread. a heavy young man advanced out of the darkened woods, a rifle over his arm, followed by two other young men carrying a deer suspended from a stick which ran across their shoulders. three dogs trotted into the fire-lit circle ahead of the hunting party. the two burdened men threw the deer down on a carpet of palmetto fans and at once began to skin it, merely glancing once or twice at the strange boys. the leading hunter, who, according to july's whisper, was sweet jackson, betrayed curiosity. "who-all's this?" he inquired gruffly, approaching the fire. "billy, git me some water quick. whur did you boys come from?" ted briefly explained, but sweet jackson did not appear to be quite satisfied, a gleam of suspicion showing in his eyes as they remained fixed upon ted's uniform. "what's them clothes you got on?" he asked, and when the boy had explained he was mysteriously informed in a voice suggestive of menace: "if they sent you in the oke-fi-noke to find our camp and go back and tell 'em, they played thunder." another party of hunters now came out of the dark woods, exhibiting an otter skin as their single but valuable prize. among these was buck hardy, who stood in the background only long enough to hear the outline of the boys' story and then approached them, his manner quite friendly. "how you come on, boys?" he asked, extending his hand to ted. "this one"--as he turned, smiling, to hubert--"is as rosy as a little gal." hubert was highly indignant at this, but both he and ted felt intuitively that the "cock of the walk" would prove their best friend in the camp. as he questioned them and appeared to be satisfied with their straightforward answers, they observed him narrowly. he was fully six feet tall and evidently an uncommonly muscular and powerful man. but what attracted the boys was his atmosphere of quiet resolution and the kindly expression of his eyes. they wondered that such a man, who looked brave if he was not, should be a hiding slacker. meanwhile july had been busy frying thin strips of fresh venison steak, and now announced that supper was ready. the slackers thereupon took their places round the fire, and the boys had abundant opportunity to study the faces of all--an inspection that, except in one or two instances, found little that was reassuring. ted and hubert were politely invited by buck to join in the feast, but, having already eaten their fill, accepted only a cup of coffee. the hapless billy, who had taken the liberty of appeasing his hunger before supper was ready, now lay on the grass, reciting in a sort of sing-song: "mena, mino, mo; ketch a nigger by the toe, if he hollers let him go." this was followed by: "quemo, quimo, dilmo, day; rick, stick, pomididdle, dido--sally broke the paddle over mingo's head." the childish mind of the young man seemed to delight in nursery rhymes. he was beginning, "one-two, buckle my shoe--three-four, open the door," etc., when sweet jackson called his name roughly and sent him on an errand. "what's the news about the war?" asked buck hardy of ted, as the slackers lighted their pipes and settled into comfortable lounging positions about the fire. ted responded eagerly, describing the situation as he understood it and showing that the outlook was not as promising as it had been. he indicated that russia had dropped out and was "no good any more," that italy was hard pressed, that france was wearing out, and that england's safety was threatened by germany's submarines. "it depends on the united states," the boy declared. "we've got to end this war. we've got to be in a big hurry to put two million soldiers in the field, and every able-bodied young man is needed." then, his zeal overcoming his prudence, he excitedly added: "i don't see how you men can stay here in this swamp at such a time. i--i--i'd be _ashamed_!" buck hardy winced. sweet jackson sat erect with a threatening look. the other slackers shifted their positions uneasily and frowned, some of them uttering low ejaculations of astonishment. july paused in his noisy scraping of a pot and stood at attention. hubert nudged ted warningly and urged him in a whisper to hold his tongue. "who's ashamed!" cried sweet jackson derisively. "i ain't, for one. 'tain't none of my quiltin'. what them germans ever done to _me_? i never heard tell of 'em till lately." "you'll hear of 'em a plenty if they ever get this country," said ted, shaking off hubert's hand. the boy was too excited and eager to speak his mind to count the costs. "they'll rob you of every dollar, and if you don't walk the line they chalk you'll be shot in your tracks. they haven't had a chance yet to do anything to _you_. the thing to think about is what they've done to other countries and what they intend to do to ours if they can. do you want them to give texas and a half dozen more states out that way to mexico, as the kaiser promised to do, if mexico would help him conquer this country?" "texas is a fur ways, and big enough to take care of itself, too," said sweet, serenely indifferent. "that's a fine way to look at it!" ted was quick to retort, scorn in his tone. "will your right hand feel that way if somebody walks up and whacks off your left?" "they could never do it," spoke up buck hardy quietly. "the germans nor nobody else could ever take this country." "that depends on what sort of a fight we put up and how quick we are about it," insisted ted. "i read the papers a lot, and listen to men talk, too, and sometimes it looks as if even england may have to give in. if the germans get england and the british fleet, what will happen then? why, they'll get canada, of course, and get ready to invade us anywhere across a three-thousand mile border line. _then_ we'll have it!" "canada and new york and ohio and chicago is a fur ways," remarked sweet, yawning. "if the germans do get 'em, what's that to us 'way down h-yuh?" "what's that to _us_ if the richest part of our country falls into the hands of the enemy!" cried ted, losing his patience and with it all sense of prudence. "you make me sick. as i was about to say just now, it all depends on how many of us go out and fight and how many of us go and hide in a swamp." again buck hardy winced, and all the lounging slackers sat up, startled, staring at ted as if scarcely able to believe that they had heard aright. as a general murmuring began, sweet jackson leaped to his feet. "billy, go get me a big switch," he ordered. "i've got to give that sassy boy a good frailin'. he's too big for his breeches. i aim to teach him a lesson right now." "no, you won't," said buck hardy, who had also risen to his feet. "i like that boy. i like his spunk. and anybody who lays a hand on him has got me to whip. i put you all on notice," he concluded, turning from the furious but perceptibly checked jackson and sweeping an eye over the seated slackers. "well, buck hardy," argued sweet in a vain attempt to disguise his surrender, "if you're goin' to play the fool in this thing you'll be sorry." "aw, set down and let the boy talk," said buck, resuming his own seat on the grass. "you don't have to agree with him. let him talk; it's interestin'. go on, kid." but ted seemed to think that he had said enough for the present, and for once he was not ready to speak. buck hardy himself broke the silence that followed. "there's another thing i want to say," he announced. "i ain't in this swamp because i'm a-scared to fight. if they'd a let me alone, it would a' been all right, but when they up and passed a force-law, draftin' everybody whether or no, i got mad." then ted found his voice, opening his mouth to speak impetuously, but hubert grabbed him by the arm to check him and this time the younger boy would not be denied. "hush!--don't!" hubert whispered urgently. "don't tell him he was free to enlist and try to put him in a hole. he's our _friend_." ted saw the force of this in time and shut off his coming flood words, saying only: "i didn't think you were afraid, mr. hardy. and it is very good of you to be willing for me to speak out, and i thank you very much." then the "cock of the walk" himself seemed to think that it would be better to change the subject, for he began to speak about an interesting incident of the day's hunting. but the conversation soon dragged, the slackers yawning drowsily. one by one they rose and disappeared, until only buck, sweet and the two boys were left by the fire. finally sweet rose, saying: "what you aim to do with them boys to-night, buck? we got to keep our eye on them boys." "they'll sleep with me," was the answer. shortly afterward buck hardy lighted a torch and bade the boys follow him. he led them beneath the curious log house standing so high in the air--a precaution against snakes in summer--and climbed by a ladder through a square opening in the floor. passing the sleeping men, whose faces even in the case of the least pleasing seemed softened in slumber, hardy led the way to the extreme end of the room. giving the torch to ted, he scattered and broadened his really comfortable bed of leaves and spanish moss so as to make room for the two boys between himself and the wall. there appeared to be no window in all the structure, but apparently sufficient air entered between the logs of the walls and through the wide door in the floor. after the light was put out ted recalled sweet jackson's "we got to keep our eye on them boys," with its suggestion of possible captivity at least for a time; but both he and hubert were too tired to speculate or worry about their situation, and they soon forgot everything in sound sleep. vii when ted and hubert awoke next morning they were alone in the sleeping-loft. descending the ladder, they found july at the fire with breakfast awaiting them; and after they had washed their hands and faces, the negro pouring water for them, they ate heartily. it appeared that all but two or three of the slackers had already gone off to their traps, or hunting, and even these two or three were nowhere to be seen just now. as the boys breakfasted, it was noticeable that july's manner toward ted was markedly respectful and that his eye frequently rested upon the boy scout uniform. suddenly the young negro stood still in front of ted and thus addressed him: "hubut tole me las' night de president 'p'int you dispatch carrier. did de president sen' you in dis swamp to git after dese slackers, too?" "of course not." "did guv'nor dorsey sen' you?" "no." "did judge ridgway sen' you?" "no." "den, how come you talk so uppity, like a man wid de law on he side and ain't a-scared o' nobody?" "i don't know, july," replied ted, amused, smiling, yet serious. "when i get started i'm so interested that i forget to be scared." "well, you sho is a _man_, if you is des a boy. you sho is a cap'n. dey ought to call you 'cap'n ted.'" the young negro's wonder and admiration were manifest. "that's very nice of you, july," stammered ted, embarrassed and blushing. "you sho did talk up to dem white mens. you didn't leave 'em a leg to stand on." "how about _you_?" asked ted, with a twinkle in his eye. "have you got any more legs than they have?" july guffawed loudly, enjoying the joke at his own expense. "who, me?" he laughed again. "i's ready to go to de waw if dey promus to put me where dem germans can't p'int a gun at me." ted and hubert laughed heartily, vastly amused, and the latter said: "don't you think all slackers are as ready as that?" "i got sump'n to tell you," said july, hastening to change an embarrassing subject. "dem young white mens hole a meetin' dis mawnin' and dey voted on what to do about you boys. i couldn't hear much o' dey talk, but i think dey voted mr. buck hardy down." "but i thought you said he was the 'cock of the walk,' and he certainly stood them all down last night," commented ted. "he sho is de cock o' de walk when it come to fightin'," said july, "but when it come to votin' he ain't got but one vote. hush! h-yuh he is now." buck hardy had come out of the woods, and, pausing at the edge of the clearing, he now called ted to him. "well, what you boys aim to do?" he asked in a friendly way, as ted joined him. "i'll tell you what i'd _like_ to do," said ted earnestly, encouraged by his tone, "and that is, persuade you, and as many of the rest as i could, to go out of this swamp and be drafted for the war." buck hardy laughed outright, but there was no unfriendliness in his merriment. "you've laid out to do a pretty big job of work, kid," he said; "most too big, i reckon. better give it up. better jes' stay h-yer a while with us and learn to hunt." "i wouldn't mind staying a while if--if there was any chance of----" "but there ain't, son; so you'd better not bother your head about it. and i reckon you'll have to put up with our company a while. we talked it over this mornin' and took a vote. we agreed when we come in h-yer to decide things by vote. i was for takin' you boys out to-day and puttin' you on the trail home, but the fellers wouldn't hear to it. al peters was the only one who agreed with me, and _he_ wasn't willin' to let you boys go unless you promised on yer honor to say nothin' about us when you got home." in great excitement ted was about to declare that nothing could ever induce him to be silent in order to shield fugitive slackers, but buck went on speaking before the imprudent words were uttered, and after reflection the boy decided that it would be wiser not to make such a declaration until he had to. "you see," buck continued, "the boys is afraid the sheriff will send a posse in h-yer and take us out and prosecute us. so there's nothin' for you and hubert to do but stay h-yer a while and get all the fun you can. maybe i can win the boys over to my thinkin' in a week's time. i'll try. the truth is, i don't think there's very much danger in letting you go even if you did tell on us, for there's too much goin' on now for the county to take the trouble to send a posse away in this swamp jes' to get eight men drafted. but the boys has voted and it stands, as i tell you. i want to say another thing, kid," added buck, after a slight pause: "i want you to feel free, and i like to hear you talk about the war, but you must be careful not to step on the boys' toes too hard. i don't want a fight on my hands." "i hardly know what to say--i'll have to think," said ted, lifting his troubled eyes to the big slacker's face; "but i'm very much obliged to _you_, mr. hardy. i think you are just splendid, even if you are a----" the boy stopped, confused, dropping his eyes. "that's all right, kid," said buck, patting ted's shoulder in a kindly way. "now you just go and enjoy yourself, and maybe everything will come out all right." buck hardy turned abruptly and swung off into the woods. ted returned slowly to the fire, where, with a very serious face, he announced to hubert the fact of their captivity. the younger boy's grip on his lachrymal ducts was never firm and the tears now ran down his cheeks in a steady stream as he sat on the grass by silent ted. "i want to go home," he wailed. "i think dat's a shame," said july, promptly taking the side of the boys. "don't cry, hu," said ted. "it will come out all right. we'll stay a while, and then if they don't let us go, we'll run away and go anyhow." "maybe i kin help you git off," proposed july, standing in front of the seated boys, his black face full of sympathy. "if i kin, i will. but you mustn't tell dem white mens on me." the half-witted billy now appeared from the direction of the boat-landing, and, seeing hubert's tears, he seemed to be much concerned. he had taken a fancy to hubert. dropping into a seat by the grieving boy, he put a hand on his knee and asked indignantly: "who been whippin' you?" "nobody. it isn't that." "well, don't cry. if you don't cry, maybe i'll take you to see son." "you haven't a son!" said hubert, smiling through his tears. "wait till i show him to you, and you'll see." "who is he?" asked hubert, drying his eyes. "never you mind," answered billy, his sudden look of cunning losing itself in an explosion of mirth. "you'll find out when i take you to him. you'll know him when you see him." after this cryptic announcement billy would say no more about his "son" and sought to entertain hubert with recitations of nursery rhymes. the boys lounged about the camp for an hour, discussing their situation in low asides while intermittently conversing with july and billy. then buck hardy reappeared and began to talk amicably with ted and hubert about hunting, evidently trying to interest them in sport. he told them that he and his associates depended more on their traps than on their guns in their business of securing salable pelts, stating that many traps had been set here and there on the island and in the surrounding swamp. it was while this conversation was in progress that sweet jackson entered the clearing and called out: "you goin' to use july this mornin', buck?" "not partic'lar," was the indifferent response. "well, i can use him and i'd like to borry him. i'm goin' to build me a permeter shelter for my own hides, so i kin spread 'em out more." buck having consented and turned again to the boys, the "borrowed" july, much disgusted, was led away in company with billy. the business required of them was the cutting down of one six-inch sapling for posts and several two-inch saplings wherewith to frame the slanting roof which these posts would support. this done, they must gather hundreds of palmetto fans and thatch the roof, all under the direction of an ill-tempered boss. the three had been thus engaged scarcely half an hour when buck, ted and hubert, at the camp, heard screams and the sound of blows. a few steps toward the spot selected for the palmetto shelter revealed the cause of the uproar. sweet jackson was whipping billy with a long supple stick, and, as he laid on more heavily, in spite of his victim's piteous cries, the boys drew near in horror, followed more slowly by buck. "stop that!" shouted ted. "oh, it's you, mr. smarty!" said sweet, pausing to look up. "i won't stop till i git ready, and if you don't keep your mouth shut, i'll wallop you in the bargain." "you coward!" cried ted. "you ought to be ashamed to beat that poor half-witted----" sweet suddenly let billy go and turned upon ted with uplifted stick. "hit him if you dare!" said buck, stepping up to them. "'tain't none o' your business, buck hardy!" cried sweet, furious. "it's everybody's business when you jump on that poor boy billy. you know he ain't accountable." "i reckon i've got a right to thrash him if he won't work. i kin hardly make him lift his hand to do a thing, and when he does work he works so powerful sorry----" "i thought you was more of a man, sweet jackson." "i depend i'm man enough to give you all you want!" shouted the infuriated jackson, with a threatening movement. buck caught one end of the uplifted stick; it broke between them and they closed in hand-to-hand combat. apparently they were well matched physically and the fight promised to be a long one. as ted and hubert watched it, absorbed, july stepped between them and whispered: [illustration: they closed in hand-to-hand combat] "if you boys want to try to run away, now de time! nobody in camp but dem two fightin' mens. if you git dem boats, maybe you kin git away. you kin take two boats and i kin hide t'other one, and den dey can't foller you." "yes, let's run down to the boats," agreed hubert. "come on! i want to get away from this place!" hubert had already moved to follow the negro, but ted hesitated. he did not like to run away while buck was fighting in his cause as well as billy's, and the fight itself drew his eye compellingly. moreover, he really preferred to stay at least a day or two and look for opportunities to talk further to the slackers about the war and their duty. and when they did run away, he thought they ought to make careful plans beforehand, providing themselves with food for the journey, for one thing. but hubert and july, who were now twenty feet away, beckoned him frantically, and, thus urged, ted reluctantly followed. the three then raced on their way, pursued by the now smiling billy who apparently thought that some sort of game was proposed. passing the camp fire, july caught up a tin bucket of sliced venison, then darted along the winding path through the swamp cane toward the boat landing. racing along this same path a few moments later, ted and hubert halted suddenly at sight of the negro returning. "de boats all gone," announced july. "dem mens must 'a took 'em to go to dey traps in de swamp." ted did not share hubert's deep disappointment and smiled at the giggling billy in the moment of blank pause. "let's hurry back, then," he said, breaking the silence, "so they won't know what we tried to do." the run to the boat landing and back, a distance of little more than two hundred yards, had scarcely consumed five minutes, and the four spectators were again on the scene of the fight before the combatants had noticed their absence. they were just in time to see sweet jackson strike the ground heavily beneath the weight of his antagonist, who now partly rose, placing his knee upon the breast of the vanquished. "you got enough?" shouted buck. "if you ain't, say so, and i'll give you a whole bellyful." sweet said nothing, but ceased to struggle, whereupon buck let go his hold and rose. "i'll git even with you yet, buck hardy," declared the defeated man with black looks after he had painfully gathered himself up and was limping off into the woods. the victor disdained a retort, and, turning, walked back to the camp, where he was followed by the boys and the negro. at the noon hour sweet jackson had not reappeared and it was evident that the work on his "permeter" shelter would not be resumed that day. assured of this by the time dinner had been served and his subsequent work about the camp had been finished, july proposed a job of another kind. "mr. hardy," he said, "kin i take cap'n ted wid me to build dat turkey pen dis evenin' an' lef' hubut yuh to play wid billy?" "sure--if he wants to go," consented buck. "i think i'll take 'em both on a deer hunt tomorrow." on their way to the selected site of the turkey pen, about half a mile away in the pine woods near the border of the swamp, july broke a brief silence as follows: "a colored lady tole me dem germans eats people. you reckon dat's so?" "of course not," said ted, "but they've done things in this war just as bad." having arrived at the chosen spot and cleared a space about six feet square, july dug a trench from its center to a point some four feet without, baited it with shelled corn and bridged it over with sticks. he then cut down a number of pine saplings and employed sections of these in building a pen about four feet high around the cleared space, afterward covering the top with sections of the same and weighting them down with heavy "lightwood knots." lastly a few grains of corn were dropped at intervals from the mouth of the tunnel to a point several yards distant, so that wild turkeys feeding in that neighborhood would be attracted toward the snare. july explained that when these wild fowl entered by way of the tunnel and ate up the bait they would merely struggle to break through the well-lighted cracks of the trap, forgetting entirely the shadowed path to freedom at their feet. as he worked, receiving some assistance from the interested boy, the negro talked and asked questions about other matters. "when de time come for you boys to run away," he said once, "maybe i'll go wid you." "that would be fine," said ted, "because you could show us the way." "i gittin' tired o' dis job yuh in dis camp," july continued. "dem white mens don't pay me all dey promus, and i don't like de way some of 'em cusses me aroun', speshly dat sweet jackson. mr. hardy pay me his part, but he can't collec' a cent o' my money fum some of 'em. if it wasn't for dat waw, i'd go out o' dis swamp wid you tomorrow. cap'n ted, if i was to go out wid you, you reckon dem draft-bode people would grab me right up an' sen' me to de waw?" "they'd examine you and might send you to a training camp, and you might even go to france," answered ted, "but i don't think they'd ever put you on the fighting line. you see, in this big war there's a lot to do besides fighting and the thing is to find out what a man can do best. they might just make you a cook behind the lines, and pay you wages, too." "gee! dat 'ud suit me grand," cried july joyfully. "i'd love to cross de big water an' see all dere is to see--if only dey don't put me where dem germans kin shoot me. you think i kin 'pend on dat, cap'n ted?" "i don't know for certain, july, but i think so." when they turned up at camp toward sundown, it was evident from their faces that both ted and july were in a hopeful frame of mind. the one was glad because he had made two useful friends in a single day; the other was elated because he indulged in dreams of securing war adventure without incurring the risk of war's penalties. viii ted hoped that the war would be discussed around the camp fire that night, but he was disappointed. sweet jackson turned up only in time to eat his supper and went immediately to bed. the other men appeared to be unusually tired and followed as soon as they had smoked a single pipe. nevertheless ted was nearer his heart's desire than he supposed. about two o'clock in the morning a large animal prowled into or near the camp, doubtless attracted by the refuse of the deer's carcass; and all hands were roused by the furious baying of the dogs. snatching up their guns, the slackers to the last man sallied out and followed in pursuit. billy ran after them, and ted, hubert and july were left standing over the fire, now stirred to a bright blaze. the eager hunters were hardly two hundred yards away when hubert looked across the fire at ted and said: "now's our chance to get off in the boats. we could do it--if july would go with us. you said he was thinking of it." "yes, i been thinkin' 'bout it," admitted july, his manner doubtful and hesitating, "but on account o' dat waw i ain't made up my mind yit." "and, anyhow, in the middle of the night is a bad time," said ted. "we're not ready either." at this moment they heard the sound of footsteps and a voice shouted: "buck says you boys come, too, and see the fun. and, july, you better bring some vittles." the young man who had hurriedly returned on this errand had halted as soon as he was within call, and now waited impatiently to be joined by the boys and the negro, evidently afraid that he might miss seeing the game run to earth. his "hurry up" was so frequent and so insistent that the boys joined him without a moment's delay and july, shaking his head, followed without the "vittles." the cause of the excitement, which proved to be a bear, had beaten a hasty retreat toward the center of the island, and there, being hard pressed by the dogs, climbed a tall pine. by the time the hunters reached the spot the animal was at rest among the clustering boughs at the very top. nothing could be done now until daylight, and the men proceeded to make themselves comfortable. several fires were built, forming a circle around the tree, in order to make sure that the bear would remain where it was in case the watchers should fall asleep. then july and two men were sent back to camp to bring food and corn beer of the slackers' own brewing. the besiegers threw themselves down in comfortable, lounging attitudes around the largest fire and were disposed to have a merry time during the three hours of waiting. ted and hubert seated themselves on the grass near buck hardy and watched with absorbed attention all that took place. the treeing of a bear in a tall pine at such a time of night was remarked upon as a very unusual occurrence, and several declared that they had never seen the like. "i tell you the old oke-fi-noke is the place to run up on curious things," said buck hardy musingly, after the men sent to camp had returned with their loads. "i've seen a heap o' strange things in this swamp. i reckon you boys wouldn't believe me if i was to tell you i saw a catfish whip a moccasin in h-yer one time." the men laughed incredulously, but demanded the particulars. buck took a drink of corn beer from a gourd passed him by july, and then asked his nearest neighbor, al peters, for "a chaw o' tobacco," before he proceeded to satisfy their curiosity by telling his story. it was, in substance, that he had once seen a moccasin spring upon a catfish in a shallow lagoon of the swamp and promptly get "whipped." that is to say, disastrous consequences resulted from the snake's attempt to swallow its prey. for the fish immediately "popped" its formidable fins through the reptile's throat, and all efforts on the part of the latter to disgorge its victim proved futile. "that moccasin reared mightily and was as lively a snake as you ever laid eyes on," buck declared with a laugh, "but it bit off more'n it could chaw that time." he wound up by saying that the snake crawled off rapidly out of sight; but several hours later, returning past the same neighborhood, he found it lying dead, the tail of the fish still protruding from its mouth and the fins visibly transfixing its neck. finding that the catfish was still alive, buck took the trouble of liberating it, then watched it revive in its native element and finally swim away in the lagoon. buck's listeners had expected a jest, but they seemed to accept the story as matter of fact--no one presuming to give expression to doubts, if any were felt. this was the beginning of much spinning of okefinokee yarns, some of them even more remarkable. finally buck turned to ted and said: "well, kid, what's the strangest thing you've seen in the oke-fi-noke?" the boy would have liked to reply that the strangest, most unaccountable, most infamous sight he had seen in the great swamp was a party of able-bodied young men who, instead of serving their country by training to fight the germans, were deliberate and confessed slackers and fugitives from the law of the land. but he hesitated to go so far and only said: "i haven't seen as much of it as the rest of you, but the strangest story about it i ever heard was the one my uncle walter said the indians used to tell a hundred years ago." "let's hear it," invited several. so ted related the old indian legend which pictured the remote interior of the okefinokee as a high and dry land, and one of the most blissful spots of earth, where dwelt beautiful women called daughters of the sun. some warriors of the creek nation, lost in the interminable bogs and jungles, and confronted with starvation and despair, were once on a time rescued and lovingly cared for by these radiant creatures. and ere the lost warriors were led out of the confusing labyrinths and sent on their way, they were fed bountifully with dates, oranges, and corn-cake. there may have been other good things to eat, but ted's memory could vouch only for the dates, oranges, and corn-cake. he remembered that his uncle had spoken skeptically about the dates and disrespectfully of the corn-cake, which latter, though a good and useful thing in its way, was too "common" for celestial ladies who, in all other tales of the same type, were in the habit of feeding on ambrosia. uncle walter conceded, however, that the maize was probably regarded by the creek indian as one of the most precious gifts of the gods and, therefore, not unworthy of a place in this legend of the daughters of the sun who dwelt in the great okefinokee. this story, with judge ridgway's comment added, was over the heads of the uneducated young backwoodsmen who listened with heavy gravity, but several of them expressed polite appreciation of it and spoke in complimentary terms of ted's recital. the fires were now replenished, more corn-beer was imbibed, fresh pipes were lighted, and the yarn-spinners began another series devoted to the "tight scrapes" in which they had found themselves occasionally in the okefinokee. one young man told of a deadly hand-to-hand conflict with a wounded bear; another of a thrilling unarmed fight with a wild-cat; a third related how he had once sunk down suddenly to his armpits in the great marsh called the "prairie," how he had saved himself by grasping the growth on a small tussock, and how he was confronted there, before he could drag himself out, by an angry moccasin, which luckily he shot. and so on. when this yarn-spinning began to languish for lack of startling material, buck hardy asked ted if he did not have something interesting to tell about his and hubert's struggles on their way through the swamp to the island. in relating the indian legend ted had kept his seat on the grass, but now, as if accepting this invitation, he rose to his feet, his eye sweeping the faces of the eight assembled young "backwoods crackers," all evidently more or less ignorant and uneducated, and--as ted thought--sorely in need of instruction, especially on the subject of the great war. some of them had read a weekly paper occasionally, but most of them had not even availed themselves of that limited source of information. this ted knew from inquiries he had made. did this not account, at least in part, for their indifference, and if they were told more about the war, might it not be possible to wake them up? thus ted had reasoned as he sat listening, observing and awaiting his opportunity. "gentlemen," he politely began, "what happened to us coming through the swamp is hardly worth telling about. i'd much rather talk about the greatest and most terrible war in history, and i hope you are willing. for everything--the whole world's future as well as our own country's safety--depends on the way it ends. i don't think you know enough about it. if you did, you wouldn't be here to-night. you would be in the training camps wearing the soldier's uniform." "shut up!" the voice was sweet jackson's, and his demand was echoed by several others. "no, don't shut him up," shouted buck hardy. "let him talk. _i'm_ not afraid to listen to him. i'm man enough to know my business and stick to it even if a boy who can talk fine does come along. go on, kid." this quelled the disturbance, and ted continued: "this war's got to end in complete victory for the united states and her allies, for if the germans win, they will ride over us all rough-shod and make us no better than slaves, just as they have done in belgium and wherever they have marched their armies. we must win, as the president says, so that the world can be made safe for christian ideals and for democracy." "stop a minute, kid," said buck. "you are handin' out some pretty big words. i reckon we all know what christian means, but a bunch of us may not be quite so sure about 'de-mocracy.'" "democracy," explained ted, "is free government by and for the people, instead of high-and-mighty government by one man like the german kaiser. you will see better what we'll be up against if the germans get this country," the boy continued, "if i tell you about some of the things they have done and some of the things they want to do. after training for this war fifty years, they jumped on europe, taking everybody by surprise. they have already conquered belgium, servia and rumania, and they hold northern france, part of russia and part of italy. they want to take all the rest of europe and then conquer the united states. they have said so. some of 'em even say they ought to force the german language as well as german rule on the world, and they are so crazy with conceit that they say they have a right to do so because they are so much finer people than the people of other countries. some of them even claim that the germans have been divinely appointed to rule all nations." "a little bit stuck on themselves, ain't they?" interjected buck derisively. "why, i read," continued ted, "of how one of their big preachers told his congregation: 'the german soul is god's soul; it shall and will rule over mankind.' and the kaiser talks about 'the german god.'" "you reckon they're such blame' fools as all that?" questioned al peters doubtfully. "germany is a fur ways and tales are pretty apt to grow as they travel," remarked a young man known as "bud" jones. "i know how a tale can grow in ten miles, let alone all the way across the ocean. it puts me in mind of the time wash' johnson was up before court." jones then related with humorous exaggerations how the story of a very small offense, on its eventful and roundabout journey "from possum trot to crossways," became almost a murder in the first degree. "and when all the truth came out," he concluded, "there was jes' _nothin'_ to it." several others recalled amusing anecdotes illustrating the powers of a rumor to expand enormously as it passed from mouth to mouth, and the effect was such that poor ted saw his opportunity disappear for the time. he was too inexperienced a speaker to find a way to regain command of the situation, but he made an effort. he was further embarrassed as he took note that clumps of palmettos and scrub-oak thickets under the tall pines were becoming clearly outlined at a distance from the dying fires, showing that day had dawned and the time left him was short. "but i haven't told you _anything_ yet," he insisted, as soon as he was able to put in a word. "and it's all _true_. our ambassadors and consuls and big men who have come back from europe say the germans have said and done even worse things than have been reported. if you would just let me tell you some of the things i know----" "can't be done now, kid; it's daylight," interrupted buck hardy, moving to rise and looking around into the woods from which the darkness was rapidly lifting. all the loungers about the fire now sprang to their feet, turning their eyes toward the top of the pine wherein the bear had taken refuge, and noisily proposing to be the first to bag the game. as soon as there was sufficient light to outline the black bulky form among the high branches, the men opened fire, one at a time, and at the thirteenth shot the big game came tumbling down, striking the ground with great force. "i got him!" insisted several voices, but of course there was no means of determining which was the fatal shot. the bear measured seven inches across the ball of the foot, three inches through the fat on the round, and the total weight was calculated at not less than four hundred pounds. the hide was carefully taken off and some pounds of the choicest meat were sliced to dry, but the bulk of the carcass was left where it was for the buzzards. "i wish it could be shipped to the starving belgians," said ted, as he looked on, sorrowing to think of such waste at a time when economy and careful conservation of all food were urged upon the whole nation. but nobody paid any attention to him, merriment and care-free indifference being the dominant note of the moment. when the sun was an hour high all hands, in great good humor, returned to camp and, to the accompaniment of boastful hunting stories, partook heartily of the hot breakfast which by this time july had prepared. ix after breakfast had been eaten and the eight slackers had scattered, going about the day's business, ted sat disconsolately by the camp fire, watching july as he "cleared up" and talking intermittently with hubert about the incidents of the night. "i'm afraid i can't do anything with those slackers," said ted, his tone as well as his words indicating great discouragement. "i thought i might be able to wake them up, but----" "well, you put up a good talk anyhow," said hubert, frankly outspoken, as usual, in his admiration of ted's oratorical powers, adding, however, with his habitual pessimism: "but i knew it wouldn't do any good. what do _they_ care? all they want to do is to look out for number one." at this moment billy trotted out of the woods and called hubert aside. the half-witted young man leaned toward hubert and said to him in a low voice, with the air of one conferring a priceless favor: "would you like to come now and see son?" "who is 'son'?" asked hubert skeptically yet curiously. "yes, i'd like to see him."' "come on, then." ted had fallen into troubled revery and july was engaged in vigorously scraping one of his pots, so neither took note of hubert's departure in the company of the half-wit. billy, who had fished out of his pocket a small wriggling water frog and carried it in his hand, led the way through the woods about a quarter of a mile, halting at last near the clay-covered roots of a large pine that had fallen during a wind storm. at the base of this was a small round hole in the ground, beside which billy fell on his knees and began repeating in a strange, monotonous, coaxing voice: "doodle, doodle, come out your hole! doodle, doodle, come out your hole!" as he heard the mystic words supposed to be potent to call forth from ambush the ant-lion, which crafty insect prepares over its nest a kind of pitfall for ants, hubert stepped back, protesting: "you know that's too big for a doodle-hole; that's a snake's hole." billy made no reply, continuing his recitation. "i hear him a-comin'," he said softly, at last. then, in a gentle, caressing voice, he called down the hole: "come on, son; come on, son." in a few moments a large rattlesnake glided out of the hole and seized the frog from billy's fingers. hubert backed rapidly away and sprang upon a log, but billy did not move from his place and betrayed no fear whatever. "come away from there!" cried hubert in amazement. "you billy--that snake will bite you!" "son won't bite me," replied billy, confidently. "son knows me. don't be a-scared, boy; son won't hurt you if i tell him not to." so this was "son"--the great mystery which poor billy had seemed so to delight in! "if you don't come away, i won't stay here," cried hubert urgently. he was alarmed for billy's safety, fearing that as soon as the frog had been swallowed the reckless half-wit would be bitten. he thought he ought to look for a big stick and try to kill the snake, but made no move to do so, fearing the consequences of resistance from billy. after protesting and begging for some time in vain, hubert jumped down from the log and hurried back to camp. by the time he had told the story to ted and july, the witless snake-charmer himself appeared unhurt. "lem me tell you one thing, hubut," cautioned july: "you let dat billy hoe his own row. play wid him roun' dis camp, but don't go foolin' long wid him in dese woods. he ain't got good sense, and he'll git you in trouble sho's you born." "he ought to be in a sanitarium," said ted. "look yuh, billy," cried july, as the half-wit approached, "ain't you got no better sense'n to prodjick wid a rattlesnake dat-a way?" "what made you tell?" asked billy reproachfully of hubert. "dat snake goin' to bite you an' kill you," july warned urgently. "don't you fret," said billy, giggling. "son knows me." ted was reminded of the old saying that providence takes care of fools and drunken men, but he also spoke in rebuke and warning, whereupon the disgusted billy took himself off. "cap'n ted, you want to go fishin' wid me dis mawnin'?" asked july, and the boy promptly accepted the invitation. the negro explained that buck hardy was willing for ted to go if hubert would stay around the camp and play with billy. apparently it was not as yet thought advisable to permit the two boys to go off on an excursion together, but no danger of attempted flight on the part of either was feared while they were separated. "i don't want to 'play with billy,'" protested hubert indignantly. "but you go ahead, ted, if you want to. i'll stay around camp. i want to look over that old paper and then take a nap. i'm sleepy--after last night." so july got ready his fishing tackle and bait, and ted followed him down to the landing. they took the smallest boat and, paddling and poling, slowly made their way against the usual obstructions toward a small lake in the flooded jungle to the right of the great marsh or "prairie." after nearly an hour of hard work they reached their destination and threw out their lines, baited with wriggling worms, which, according to july, the black bass or "trout" often took "as fas' as you kin throw in." this morning, however, they appeared to be less hungry, and the fishermen waited some time for even a "bite," talking in low voices the while. during the hour that followed ted caught one three-pounder and july landed two others not quite as large. july considered this very poor luck and complained that the catch was not "half a mess." it was time to return to camp, however, and they reluctantly drew in their lines. as they were following the boat-trail back to the island, ted, who had brought his gun, stood up now and then and looked searchingly around, hoping to see something to shoot. in this way he caught sight of a flock of ducks swimming about in a little open pool to their left. he was quick to fire both barrels, the shock almost causing him to lose his equilibrium and tumble overboard. and when, with a great splashing and fluttering the flock rose, three ducks were left floating on the water. the boy shouted in his delight. "we'll have enough duck, if not enough fish," he said. "if we kin git 'em," said july doubtfully. a hard struggle resulted in bringing the bateau only within about twenty feet of the spot, and there it stalled, the crowding obstructions being apparently insurmountable. july reluctantly gave up, declaring that they would have to let the ducks "go." but tenacity of purpose was one of ted's chief characteristics and he would not give up. his hunter's pride demanded the game and, besides, he insisted that it would never do to permit so much good food to be wasted. it was a warm spring day, and, putting his hand into the water, ted found it to be only agreeably cool. his decision was instantly made: he would have those ducks if he had to swim for them. deaf to july's urgent warnings of the danger of alligators, moccasins, and what not, he stripped to his shoes, and stepped out of the boat, surprised to find the water deeper than he had expected. in addition to standing trees and shrubs of many sorts and sizes, the flooded swamp at this point was crowded with sunken logs, dead branches and here and there a dense growth of flags. but ted, wading, slipping, falling, swimming, and battling manfully with the various difficulties, finally reached the goal and held in his grasp a foot of each of the three floating ducks. it was only when he turned to come back with his prizes that he became seriously embarrassed. he then stumbled, fell, and, as if his feet were caught or entangled in the sunken obstructions, failed to regain his upright position. his head even disappeared under the water, and it looked to july as if he had been drawn under by some unseen force. fortunately the bateau, now lightened of a part of its load, drew less water, and could be forced forward with less difficulty. exerting all his powers, the terrified negro made rapid headway and came to the rescue in time. while the struggling ted still managed to hold his breath, he was seized, drawn out of the water, and lifted over the side of the boat, laughing as he kicked from him a mass of swamp weeds and mossy rotting branches in which his feet had been entangled. his body showed several red scratches, and he knew he had had a narrow escape, but he had succeeded and was happy. "i got 'em!" he shouted triumphantly. then, sobering, he gratefully thanked the negro for his timely intervention and listened in a becoming manner to the scolding his recklessness invited. "git on your clothes quick," urged july. "i was most scared to death, you see me so. i wouldn't 'a' had you drownd-ed for a thousand dollars. mr. hardy sho would tan my hide if i was to take you back to camp drownd-ed. he think a heap o' you, cap'n ted. dem yuther white mens all time complainin' 'bout you, but he shut 'em up an' tell 'em he sho aim to stan' by you." "i think he's just fine--if he is in with a bad crowd." "he sho is de bes' man o' de whole bunch." "maybe he didn't understand that he could have volunteered freely and enlisted in some branch of the service before he was drafted," suggested ted. "that's the only way i can explain it." "maybe so," assented july, adding with a shrewd shake of the head: "but you better not push him too hard, cap'n ted." after the noon meal at the camp buck hardy kept his promise and took the two boys on a deer hunt. this was a more easy and comfortable expedition that ted had expected. it was merely a matter of waiting and watching at a "stand" until there was a chance to shoot at a deer running by. the "still hunt" method, with its wearying efforts to sneak watchfully through the woods without making the slightest noise, was not attempted. buck prepared only for a "deer drive." he first dispatched july with the dogs to the south end of the island, which was about four miles long, instructing him to go quietly with the dogs in leash. at the south end he was to untie them and start them running northward. meanwhile, after giving the boys shells containing buck-shot, the "cock of the walk" leisurely selected a promising "stand" for each and took one for himself along the backbone of the island at the upper end. the boys were instructed not to fire too quickly and be careful to take good aim. they at first waited and watched in great excitement, expecting every minute to have their first chance to bag noble game; then they calmed down and began to wonder if anything was really going to happen; and at last they looked wearily down the aisles of the open pine woods, their enthusiasm fast waning. in due time the distant baying of the dogs was heard, the sound drew nearer, and after a long while their loud yelping plainly showed that, though unseen by the boys, they were running past the immediate neighborhood. later july himself was heard coming, his voice lifted in tireless repetition of a brief, chant-like sing-song of barbaric african origin, which rang pleasingly through the woods. but no frightened leaping deer was seen, and not a shot broke upon the air of the balmy afternoon. then, finally, came buck himself, to tell the boys, in great disappointment, that no game had been beaten out of the brush, and that it was all over for the time. "i reckon they are off feedin' in the swamp shallows to-day," he said. by the time the slackers had lit their pipes around the camp fire that night ted had recovered from his disappointment and he casually remarked that, after all, he was glad they didn't get a deer. "did you hear what that boy said?" asked al peters, laughingly drawing general attention to ted. "of course, i would have enjoyed it," the boy explained, "but we don't need it for food, july says--i asked him--and it's a great pity to waste even an ounce of meat at such a time. the president and mr. hoover have asked everybody not to waste a scrap of food and not to eat any more than is actually necessary." "well, i'll be dog-on!" exclaimed bud jones, and the slackers in general looked their astonishment. they had grown up to lavish feeding and wasteful methods in the handling of food. they had never heard of anything else, except perhaps in the case of some "triflin'" white man too lazy to work or some poor negro in rags, and they wondered that such "meanness" could be recommended by the president of the united states. some of them were even inclined to doubt ted's word. there was a suggestion of scorn in al peters' tone as he asked: "what for?--for goodness' sake!" "why, to stave off famine, or near-famine," explained ted. "we've got to help feed our allies in europe as well as ourselves. they are too busy fighting to be able to raise their usual crops and their supplies from other countries are cut very short. i read not long ago that the german submarines had sent three million pounds of bacon and four million pounds of cheese to the bottom of the sea in a single week." at this the uneducated young backwoodsmen who had been in hiding since the late spring of opened their eyes, several of them repeating the figures in astonishment. "i heard tell of them submarines," one of them remarked. "they sneaks up on ships and shoots 'em from under the water." "but why don't our people and our friends over the big water get after them sneakin' things and knock 'em out and stop it?" asked bud jones. "we are doing all we can, and we are really doing a lot," said ted. "mr. edison is working night and day on inventions and our destroyers are hunting submarines all the time, and they and the english destroyers bag a lot of them, too. they drop tremendous explosives where they see bubbles and it tears the submarine to pieces. but the germans keep on building them very fast." with an oath buck hardy expressed the earnest wish that "every one of them devilish water-snakes" might be blown up. ted assured him that such a wish was very generally shared, remarking further in his own boyish way that german submarines were hated in america all the more because they virtually made war on the united states long before an actual and formal state of war existed. then, returning to the subject under discussion, he added: "you see, there's nothing in history like this thing that has come upon the world. this great war touches everybody and everything, and we've all got to help in some way." "now he's got on the war again!" exclaimed sweet jackson, rising to his feet. "if you men had sense enough to listen to me, you'd shut him up." without waiting for a response the most unpopular member of the camping party spat in his disgust and walked off toward the sleeping loft. "we've all got to help in some way," repeated ted, taking no notice of the interruption,--"either by fighting, giving money, making munitions, supplying brains or skilled labor, raising crops, or by saving food. it's got to be done, or there's no telling what may happen." the boy was again advancing upon dangerous ground and a disturbed atmosphere was at once perceptible. the slackers were beginning to realize that the war was a bigger thing and much more exacting in its demands than they had supposed. but they had chosen their course and they did not wish to be reminded that duty called them. they shifted their positions uneasily, yawned, spoke of other things, remarked that they were sleepy, and one by one rose to their feet. within a couple of minutes they had followed sweet jackson, only buck hardy, july and the two boys remaining by the fire. the big slacker kept ted there for an hour longer, asking questions and listening to the boy's replies. he seemed to forget to be ashamed of his ignorance in his eagerness for the latest information. hubert said little and july said nothing, the eyes of both traveling back and forth from the face of buck to the face of ted and often betraying admiration for the latter. "you certainly put up a good talk," said hubert, as the boys lay down to sleep, and this time he even forgot to add: "but it won't do any good." x the slackers scattered about their business early next morning and the two boys were left alone in the camp with july, who had been ordered not to let them get out of his sight. the negro had glibly promised, but his sympathies were divided. he was still averse to being forced to go to the "waw," and to this extent he was still a confederate of the slackers, but he had developed such admiration and affection for "cap'n ted" that he was now almost as ready to do the boy's bidding as to respect the wishes of buck hardy himself. so he was not disposed to follow his orders to the letter, and when an errand called him down to the boat-landing he left the boys alone without a word. he was hardly out of sight when hubert became alert, looked around cautiously, and said to ted: "last night i overheard one of the slackers speak of a jungle trail at the lower end of this island, and i think he meant a trail that leads all the way out of the swamp. let's go and look for it--now that we've got a chance to walk off by ourselves." ted promptly agreed to this proposition, but said that he didn't want to run away yet. "mr. hardy is getting interested in the war," he explained, "and if we stay a few days longer i may be able to persuade----" "oh, shucks!" scoffed hubert. "all the talking in the world will never do any good, as i've told you and told you." "we'll see," said ted hopefully. "in the meantime it will be a mighty good thing to find that trail and know where to make for when we are ready to start--if we do have to run away." he caught up his gun as he spoke and they started off in a hurry, actually running the first two hundred yards in order to be out of sight before july reappeared. they first walked about two miles down the backbone of the island, stopping to look into july's turkey-pen as they went and finding it as yet empty of feathered prisoners. they then decided to cut across to the swamp on the right and begin looking for the jungle trail. their plan was to follow as nearly as possible the line of demarcation between the swamp proper and the higher ground, thus rounding the lower half of the island in the course of some hours and necessarily crossing the looked-for trail. to follow the island's rim was obviously the only way to make sure of a thorough search, but they found it easier to propose than to perform. often a détour higher up or lower down the slope was necessary to avoid bogs, marshy tracts, impregnable clumps of fan-palmettos and tangled masses of brambles. and often the way was made difficult enough by reason of the old fallen logs thrown criss-cross or piled high by wind storms, by dense blackjack thickets, and by crowding swamp undergrowth. once they penetrated a cane-brake through which they could scarcely have forced their way but for passages made by wild animals; for the tall strong reeds, which stood as straight as arrows, were for the most part hardly three inches apart. even along the borders of the comparatively open pine land which formed the island they were forcibly reminded of what a wild and remote wilderness the interior of the okefinokee really was. several times they halted and carefully examined faint suggestions of a trail, soon pushing forward again unsatisfied. they had passed the lower end of the island and were returning up the left-hand side, fearing that their effort had been fruitless, when they at last came upon what ted felt convinced was the object of their search. having followed the trail two or three hundred yards into the jungle, they retraced their steps to higher ground, after the wiser ted had resolutely rejected hubert's wild proposal that they push on toward freedom, unprepared as they were and at whatever risk. it was now near noon and high time to turn their faces toward camp, for they had already begun to feel sharp hunger. but they were tired after the long and rough tramp, and hubert insisted on at least a short rest. so they lay down on the soft billowy wiregrass in a high and dry spot inclosed on three sides by tall clumps of palmettos. their rest was short indeed, for hubert had hardly stretched himself out, yawning, when ted heard a rustle in the grass on their left. one searching glance revealed what appeared to be a wild-cat, crouched within a few feet of them. as the startled boys sprang to their feet, the cat's hair stood on end, its eyes flashed with rage and it displayed its glistening teeth, uttering a low guttural growl. the creature had evidently been surprised close to its lair, as otherwise it would likely have made off without show of fight; plainly its back--of dark brownish gray mottled with black--was up in more than a literal sense. ted caught up his gun and fired, but his hurried aim caused him to miss his mark even at such close quarters. before he could shoot again the cat leaped upon him. the shock carried him to his knees, the now useless gun slipping from his grasp. as the bounding cat came down, its fore paws struck the boy's chest and clawed through his coat, the creature snarling furiously the while and blowing its hot breath into his face. ted beheld its fiery eyes only a few inches from his own and his hands flew to its throat. exerting all his strength, he held the beast off, but could not prevent the tearing of his clothes and the painful clawing of his arms and body. hubert now came out of his first paralysis of surprise and fright. getting out his pocket-knife and opening it as quickly as possible, he caught the cat by the tail and stabbed it twice in its stomach. then, with a maddened snarl, the creature let go its hold on ted, wrested its neck from ted's grasp, and leaped upon hubert. "grab him by the throat!" shouted ted, staggering to his feet and reaching for his gun. luckily his eye fell on the bloody pocket-knife just dropped by hubert and he snatched it up instead of the gun, which he now realized could not be used at such close quarters without risk of killing his cousin. a moment later the wild-cat was stabbed in its side; then again and yet again. but hubert was still exposed to the wounded animal's strong sharp claws which did not relax their hold. so ted seized the cat's left fore-leg and pulled with all his might. the throat of the snarling beast, thus drawn partly away from its victim, was now exposed, and into it ted drove the knife to the hilt. it was all over after that. the cat ceased to struggle, became limp and dropped to the ground. the battle had been won, but at no small cost. both boys were bleeding from several deep scratches and their coats were badly torn. as all this became painfully evident, hubert found himself unable to keep a firm grip on his lachrymal ducts. "i don't want to cry, ted," he said, as he sat down heavily, drawing shuddering breaths and raining tears, "but i c-can't help it." "you just cry as much as you want to," said the older boy in a sympathetic voice, adding gratefully: "if it hadn't been for your help that thing might have scratched my eyes out. have you noticed that it's smaller and has a longer tail than the one that jumped into our boat that morning in the swamp?" he continued. "that one must have been a lynx and this is just an ordinary wild-cat." ted now proceeded to cut a long, stout, green stick. he then fished some twine out of his pocket and tied the dead wild-cat's feet together. thrusting the stick between its legs, he took one end of it and hubert the other. chatting and even laughing cheerfully, in spite of the pain of their bleeding scratches, they bore their dearly bought prize between them along the backbone of deserter's island. as they approached the camp they saw that several slackers were still sitting over their noon meal. july was the first to see the boys and their burden. a few leaps, and he was beside them; a few words, and he knew the outline of their story. "look yuh, cap'n ted," he cried, laughing and gesticulating, "you mean to say you an' hubut kill dat wile-cat wid des yo' pocket-knife!" "that's what we did," declared hubert, proudly. "oh, go 'way!" cried july, gleefully. "well, well, well, if dat don't beat all!" hardly less enthusiastic were the slackers, who expressed admiration of the youngsters' pluck and readiness of resource in no mild terms. "that's the sort of grit i like to see, boys," said buck hardy, showing great pleasure. "never mind; i'll fix you up," he added, seeing both boys wince on being patted on the shoulder. he made them strip and washed their wounds, while al peters hunted up a box of healing salve made from bear's marrow, and bud jones, producing needle and thread, neatly darned their torn coats. even sweet jackson spoke kindly to the boys on hearing the story later. everybody seemed determined to make heroes of them and their story, in response to eager questions, was told and told again. as long as he talked about the wild-cat adventure and hunting in general, omitting any mention of the war, ted noted that he secured universal, willing and pleased attention. if these young men so highly valued pluck and victory in a mere struggle with a wild animal, he thought, why could they not thrill in contemplation of the true glory of shedding one's blood for one's country in a war against the foes of the world! as the boys were eating their dinner, after the dressing of their wounds, ted inquired as to the value of wild-cat fur and was told that it was worth "quite a little." then, after a few whispered words with hubert, he rose and, with quite a grand manner, said: "mr. hardy, my cousin and i wish to present this pelt to you as a small token of our appreciation of your kindness to us." following ted's lead, buck also was formal in accepting, walking over awkwardly and shaking hands, as he said: "this sure is nice of you, boys; i'll think more of that skin than any i ever had." xi as the three slackers, hardy, peters and jones, were getting ready to leave camp and go about their unfinished business of the day, ted wondered how he could turn his new popularity to account. with the help of the greater friendliness the morning's adventure had brought him, could he not induce the slackers to listen to another appeal as they sat around the fire that night? with his mind full of thoughts of what he hoped to be allowed to say, the boy little dreamed that he was to win even greater renown as a hunter that very afternoon. his discovery of a bee tree was what led to the second adventure. while he and hubert were bringing in the dead wild-cat they stopped for a short rest under a tall pine about three quarters of a mile from the camp. as they sat there, ted looked up and noted a black, quivering line against the bright sky that seemed to stream out from the trunk of the tree just above the lowest branch and about fifty feet from the ground. his curiosity aroused, the boy rose to get a better look, and then made certain that the black, quivering line was composed of flying insects. "hubert, look!" he cried. "those must be bees and this must be a bee tree." ted now suddenly recalled this incident, as the slackers were moving away, and, rising, he called out: "oh, mr. hardy! i ought to tell you. i think i've found a bee tree." the three slackers turned, all attention, and ted described what he had seen. a bee tree it certainly was, they all declared; a "mighty good find, too," for everybody would be "glad of a bait of honey." "come and show it to us right away," proposed buck hardy. "we can help july cut the tree down before we go to the traps, then leave him to gather and bring in the honey. do you feel like walking there and back, son?" ted cheerfully consented, declaring that he was not tired and that his wounds were no longer very painful. so the whole party, except hubert who was now asleep by the fire, started off toward the bee tree, carrying axes and even buckets, in confident expectation of a satisfactory yield of honey. the distance was not great and ted soon located the tree, a tall pine near an inwinding arm of the swamp. but after he had seen the tree felled and cut into here and there in the search for the wild hive, he began to feel tired and, turning about quietly, started back toward camp. he had not gone far when an outcry indicated that honey had been found, but he did not turn back, telling himself that he could enjoy his share later. he soon lay down beside hubert and fell into a deep sleep. he was awakened some two hours later by movements of july, who reported the yield of honey, very small and expressed the conviction that there were further stores somewhere in the same tree. ted, who was now rested and felt but little annoyed by his wounds, proposed that they go back to the tree and look for more honey. july agreed and the awakened hubert was invited to accompany them, but declined. so ted, carrying a repeating rifle belonging to the camp, and july, carrying an axe and two tin buckets, started off, followed by two dogs. the felled tree lay across a wiregrass-covered space enclosed on three sides by clumps of palmettos and a blackjack thicket. only a few bees still lingered over the ruins of their hive and there was little danger of being stung, but july took the precaution of setting fire to a section of a discarded undershirt with a view to putting them to rout by means of the thick, stifling smoke. then he cut into the tree at several points and after a half hour of vain effort declared that it was "no use wastin' any more elbow-grease," but ted urged him to further endeavor. the negro obligingly swung his axe again and very soon cut into a second hollow containing honey, no doubt connected by a narrow passage with the cavity opened earlier in the afternoon. the last blow of the axe penetrated the honey itself, breaking several fine layers of comb and sending the liquid forth in a slow thick stream. while july filled his buckets, ted took a large piece of the honey-comb and sat down on a neighboring log to enjoy the feast. "hello! what's up?" the boy cried suddenly, noting that both dogs were now snuffing excitedly and that the hair on their backs stood erect. as if in answer a large black bear appeared, moving clumsily out of the blackjack thicket and making straight for the bee tree, toward which it had no doubt been attracted by the scent of the much beloved honey. seeing the negro, the boy, and the now snarling dogs, the surprised animal halted, reared on its hind legs and snorted. "where dat rifle?" cried july, as both he and ted started to their feet and retreated a few steps. when they reached the bee tree the rifle had been laid aside, ted thoughtlessly following the example of the negro who put by all that he carried in order to be free to swing his axe. now they saw in alarm that the rifle lay within a few feet of the bear and could not be reached. at this discovery panic seized them and they raced to the other end of the open space, a distance of some fifty yards the negro even forgetting to snatch up his axe. there they knew they were safe enough for the present, for the wildly barking dogs were between them and the bear, which showed no desire to advance upon anything but the bee tree, toward which, after getting down upon its all-fours, it glanced hungrily, seemingly wondering whether its further progress thither would be opposed. encouraged by shouts from ted and july, the two dogs grew bolder. they advanced so close that the bear abandoned the immediate prospect of a feast and showed fight, growling fiercely and chasing its enemies backward. but the dogs ever returned to the attack, urged by the repeated "sick 'im!" of the negro and the boy, who hoped that the running fight, if kept up, would bring the rifle safely within their reach. after more than twenty minutes this opportunity was still awaited, for not much ground was covered in the conflict. the dogs repeatedly raced forward as if bent on a furious attack, but skipped away as the enraged animal plunged at them. having put them to flight, the bear would halt, and so the coveted weapon remained within the danger zone. but at last, harried continually, the bear began to fag and showed a desire to seek shelter. having gradually neared the trunk of a pine in the course of its shiftings of position, it was seen to look up as if into a haven of refuge. another rush of the dogs, encouraged by still louder shouting, seemed to decide the issue. as if weary of the struggle, the heavy creature rose on its hind legs, embraced the trunk of the pine, and began to climb, going rapidly upward without rest until it found itself among the spreading branches more than sixty feet from the ground. then, with shouts of satisfaction, ted and july ran forward, the former reaching the rifle first because the latter halted a moment to recover his axe. "better gim me dat rifle," said july urgently as he joined the boy. "oh, no," objected ted; "_i_ want to shoot this bear." july yielded only because it was "cap'n ted"; any other mere boy could have retained the weapon only after listening to long and loud protest. the two circled the pine until they found the point whence the dark bulk of the bear could be seen most plainly outlined amid the clustering boughs of the tree's top. ted fired once, twice--six times--and the bear did not move. "he must have a bullet-proof hide," the boy panted, loath to admit that he had missed so often. "better gim me dat rifle, cap'n ted. won't do to waste so much 'munition." "well, didn't the men shoot thirteen times before they brought down that bear the other night?" "i's sho 'fraid you can't hit 'im." "well, i can keep on trying," the now irritated boy said sharply. "_i'm_ the hunter--not you. you're the _cook_." this silenced july, except for continuing expressions of eagerness to see the finish. the persistent boy kept firing and, at last, at the eleventh shot, the big game was seen to sway to one side, as if loosening its grip on the branches. then the heavy body came crashing down. "i got him! i got him!" cried ted, wildly excited. july fingered the prize, roughly estimating its length and weight, but ted was chiefly interested in the five bullet holes in the creature's side, proving that his aim was much better than at first appeared. after they had returned to camp and hubert had listened appreciatively to the great news, ted's elation suddenly gave place to misgiving and regret. the boy fell silent and looked troubled, as he recalled that the bear was not needed for food and that the great bulk of its flesh would be wasted. but when the slackers trooped into the fire-lit circle after nightfall the boy sprang to his feet and proudly announced: "mr. hardy, i've got a bear skin for you, if you want it." the slackers crowded round and listened in astonishment, most of them commending and praising the boy in the most generous terms. but, as they sat smoking round the fire after supper, sweet jackson suddenly began to laugh, sarcastically remarking: "_he_ says we mustn't waste a ounce o' meat, but soon's he gets a chance he shoots a bear, and there's nobody to eat it. very fine to talk! i've seen preachers that didn't live up to ther preachin' before to-day." buck hardy turned upon the scoffer with a look of disgust and scorn, but ted was the first to speak. "you've got me there, mr. jackson," he frankly confessed. "i've been sorry ever since i did it. i was so excited i didn't take time to think." "how could he help it--with the blood of a man in him?" demanded buck. "i won't do it again," ted solemnly declared. "you won't get a chance," said jackson, his tone still sneering. "that was a chance in a thousand." ted then spoke of the meatless and wheatless days urgently recommended in the president's proclamation of january , in order that we might spare and ship the food sorely needed by our fighting allies in europe. his listeners looked their astonishment as the boy outlined the food administration's program: no wheat on mondays and wednesdays and at one meal on the other days of the week; no meat of any kind on tuesday, no fresh pork or bacon on saturday; and rigid economy in the use of sugar at all times. "for goodness' sake," cried bud jones, "does he want us to starve so them people in europe can have plenty?" "you know better than that," buck quietly retorted. "of course not," said ted. "there's plenty to eat without wheat bread and biscuits. what's the matter with corn bread and rye bread and potatoes and rice and oat-meal porridge?" "but how can anybody get along without meat?" asked al peters. "we don't need it every meal or even every day," said ted. "we just _think_ we do. what's the matter with fish and eggs and oysters and a whole lot of things to take the place of meat?" "but everybody can't get all that," objected bud jones. "the president sure has put us on short commons." "he wants us all to eat plenty of good food, and we can do it and still save wheat and meat for our allies if we are not wasteful," insisted ted. "but we ought to be willing even to go on 'short commons' in order to win this war. what we ship to 'them people in europe,' as you call our allies, is not thrown away. it goes to feed the men who are fighting our battle as well as their own. we are all in the same boat. and they are helping us in other ways. we haven't got enough ships to carry our soldiers across, but england and france will furnish what we lack. i read secretary baker's report to the senate--it was ten columns, but i read it through--and he said we'd have half a million soldiers in france early this year and that another million would go over by next january. some people say it can't be done because we haven't got the ships, but our allies will give us the ships. then oughtn't we to save and even deny ourselves in order to send them wheat and meat? why, it's just as plain! we must work together--americans, english, french and the rest--to win this war. and here in this country every man must do his part. we've _got_ to win this war--or be the kaiser's cattle. do you want to cut wood and tote water for the germans for the rest of your days?" ted looked around the fire-lit circle. nobody answered. again the situation had become embarrassing. again sweet jackson rose, with a muttered oath, and went off to bed. again other uneasy slackers feigned drowsiness, rose yawning, and promptly followed. "look at 'em," whispered hubert. "i told you so. you put up a mighty good talk, but it won't do any good." but ted smiled hopefully, for again buck hardy kept his seat. once more the big slacker kept the boy by the fire an hour longer, asking many questions and listening soberly while he answered as best he could. xii ted's greatest wild-animal adventure was so unexpected and astonishing that it became the subject of wondering comment in the camp for days. strange to say, it came within less than twenty-four hours of the bagging of the bear, after which achievement buck hardy, with but little opposition, gave the boys the freedom of deserters' island. "from now on," he said at supper, "i want the boys to be free to go where they please on this island. i won't have a boy as smart and lucky with a gun as ted cooped up in this camp. let the boys hunt this island. no use hemmin' 'em in too close anyhow. they can't get away, with some of us takin' the boats every day. they'll think twice before they wade off in the swamp, not knowin' which way to go." so after breakfast next morning ted and hubert started off openly, their little guns over their shoulders and a camp dog, which they had petted and become fond of, following gladly at their heels. they first walked down to the lower end of the island and located the jungle trail a second time. then they slowly hunted up the left hand side to a point nearly opposite and less than a mile and a half from the camp. during all this time they saw practically nothing to shoot, and at last ted complained that luck had deserted him. hubert, always the first to be discouraged, proposed that they give up the hunt and "cut across" the island toward camp. still tramping on, loath to surrender, ted suddenly tripped and fell over a log, striking the side of his head against a sharp snag. he was at first slightly stunned and his wound, though but little more than a scratch, bled freely. what was more serious, he sprained his ankle as he fell and found it impossible to walk without unbearable pain. after trying repeatedly, he became quite faint and was forced to lie down. "hubert, you'd better go on to camp," he said breathlessly, "and, if i don't turn up by dinner time, tell 'em what's the matter. mr. hardy will know what to do--if this pain keeps me from walking all day." ted raised himself on his arm, pointing, anxious to make sure that hubert took the right course, and then, as his alarmed cousin started off at a trot, he fell back exhausted, closing his eyes. all was now quiet except for the sighing of the breeze in the high pine tops and the panting of the dog squatting near him. as long as he did not move the pain in his ankle was eased, and, as the bleeding scratch on the side of his head troubled him but little, he grew drowsy and in no great while fell asleep. ted was awakened some time later more by a warning sense of danger than by certain slightly disturbing sounds. on opening his eyes, he found the dog standing close to him, the hair on its back erect and its tail between its legs--both signs of fear. the boy's faithful guardian, with low growling that was almost a whine, gazed steadily into the faintly rustling foliage of a water-oak some thirty feet away. the tree stood on the edge of the low, wet area, its boughs interlacing with the branches of other trees behind it, these connecting in turn with myriads of others and thus forming a leafy bridge for miles through the dense, mysterious, softly whispering swamp. while he slept something had come stealthily over this bridge--something keen of scent, with eyes of hate and knife-edged claws, hungry for blood--and now a long lank animal of a tawny hue, its twitching tail uplifted and its small flat head lowered, lay along a limb of the water-oak watching with green, glaring, cruel eyes as he stirred. at first ted saw nothing to alarm him, but soon he caught sight of a tail like that of an enormous cat beating back and forth among the leaves in a manner startlingly suggestive of both restlessness and rage. he remembered to have heard one of the slackers say that the tail of a panther twitched in that nervous way when the beast was crouching for a spring. he remembered also the agreement of all the slackers engaged in the conversation that no killing of a panther in the okefinokee had been reported for years. "but that must be one," thought ted, "and it smelt my blood and is after me." forgetting his sprained ankle, the boy clutched his gun and started up, but staggered and dropped to his knees in an agony of pain. on seeing his master stir, the dog showed more spirit, putting on a bolder front and barking wildly. this seemed to put an end to the suspense. almost at once the great cat, snarling fiercely, tore through the leafage surrounding her and descended toward her intended prey, striking the earth within a few feet of the dog. ted managed to raise his gun and take aim, but before he pulled the trigger the panther had leaped again and engaged the dog at close quarters. to shoot then was to endanger friend as well as foe, and the boy hesitated. fearing that mere buck-shot would not serve anyhow and that the faithful dog was his only protection, ted painfully crawled further away, looking back over his shoulder to watch the fierce struggle between the two beasts, with never a moment's let-up in such harsh growling and snarling as he had never heard in all his life. the contending creatures, fast in each other's grip, rapidly drew nearer, tearing up grass and brush as they came. apparently the panther's object was to shake off the dog and reach the boy, her real intended prey, and it looked as if she would succeed, for she was larger as well as much stronger than the battling friend of ted who braved her cruel claws in his defense. [illustration: the contending creatures, fast in each other's grip, rapidly drew nearer] in great concern for the dog as well as for himself, the boy again started to his feet, but again the pain was more than he could bear. he tottered, fell, and this time a black, quivering sea seemed to engulf all his senses. when consciousness returned, which was almost at once, the horrid din bombarded his ears as before, and, as he opened his eyes, the panther accomplished a resistless rush in his direction, arriving within perhaps five feet of him together with the heroic dog, which still refused to be shaken off. ted thought his days were numbered, yet the very thought seemed to steady his nerves and clear his head. rising to his knees, he lifted his gun and watched his chance. the fiercely struggling and snarling beasts came nearer still, now the panther and now the dog turning a back to the boy. suddenly, with a coolness that he afterward wondered at, ted leaned forward and, seizing the opportunity as it came, put the very muzzle of his gun against the neck of his enemy and pulled the trigger. as the report reverberated through the woods, the panther leaped high in the air, wresting herself away at last from the grip of the dog's strong teeth. it looked to ted as if she would descend directly upon him, and, as he shrank away, giving himself up for lost, his senses failed him once more and oblivion followed. when he revived and looked around the panther lay still on one side of him and the dog, cruelly wounded, struggled feebly with a low whining on the other. a large section of the mighty cat's neck had been literally torn out by the discharge of the gun at close quarters and there could be no question that life was extinct. assured of this, and fearing that the dog could not survive, ted put an arm around his faithful savior's neck and wept. it was thus that the boy and the dog were found when, after the welcome sounds of the rescuing party's nearing halloo, buck hardy rushed upon the scene, followed by al peters, bud jones, hubert and july. "are you all right, kid?" asked buck, gathering ted up tenderly. "_i'm_ all right, but the dog--poor, faithful spot! can't you do something for him, mr. hardy?" a brush stretcher was hastily constructed and ted was placed upon it, but he refused to be borne to the camp by the four men until the wounded dog had been laid at his side. "we'd better hunt around this island tomorrow," remarked al peters, as the four men labored across the island with their burden. "that boy bags more game right here than we do on our long trips." it pleased ted greatly to overhear this, but his satisfaction was not complete until, after a careful examination of the cruelly clawed dog at camp, he was assured that his devoted friend would recover. his own slight head wound and sprained ankle did not trouble him. after each had received the most expert attention the sympathetic and admiring camp of slackers was capable of, it was merely a matter of keeping still temporarily in order to save himself from pain. "what's a little scratch on the head and a sprained ankle," he asked of the solicitous men about the camp fire that night, "compared with what our soldiers have to stand--liquid fire and poison gas bombs in the trenches and submarine torpedoes at sea?" "i don't reckon anybody in this war has been up against anything worse than you was to-day," remarked buck hardy, glancing at the panther skin which had been brought in and hung up in the camp where the lame boy could see it. "oh, yes, they have," insisted ted; "but they were not scared the way i was. why, our soldiers on the _tuscania_ stood and sang 'the star-spangled banner' while the ship was sinking and they were waiting their turn to get off in the boats. many of them went to their death like the greatest heroes." ted then told what he had read about the sinking of this transport some two weeks before he left his uncle's home in north carolina to come down to the neighborhood of the okefinokee. the slackers had not heard of it and all listened with great interest. "even women--lots of them--have been up against much worse in this war than i was to-day," the boy continued. "think of miss edith cavell, that lovely english nurse the germans shot in belgium." as ted eloquently told the story of the execution of this innocent and devoted woman, practically all the slackers gave expression to lively indignation. "i wouldn't 'a believed a bunch o' devils would 'a done such a thing, and _to a lady_ at that!" one voice called out. "what do the huns care about a lady or anything in the world?" cried ted. "they treat women as roughly as they treat men. they've carried off thousands of belgian and french women and made them slaves. they've actually made women work in front of their lines under the fire of french guns. they've herded up women and children in belgian and french towns and shot them down. they've carried off hundreds of thousands of men and women from conquered countries and made them slave night and day in germany. the very songs they sing--i've seen translations of some of them--tell proudly of cruel, barbarous outrages and boast that neither women nor children are spared. "why, i've seen a list of the atrocities committed by the germans in this war that would make your blood boil, that would make you sick," the boy continued. "and it's the truth--all taken from what they call 'verified official reports,' with as many as ten witnesses for everything. you see, the germans believed they were going to conquer the world, and so many of them didn't care _what_ they did. they massacred prisoners in cold blood at ypres and other places. they loot, burn and often kill as they go. they've nailed people up alive against doors. they've cut off hands and feet and left the poor creatures alive. they've filled the streets with dead--not only fighting soldiers but old men, women and children. they've burned people up in their houses. they've cut even women to pieces. the way they get all the money in a captured town is to threaten to kill everybody, and to prove that they are going to do it they kill a few hundred to begin with. they drive the helpless people like cattle--drive them out and leave them to starve. they seem to delight in burning or knocking down churches with their cannon. they've stuck bayonets in women and boys and girls and pitched them into the fire of burning houses. the cavalry has tied men and women to their stirrups and galloped around with them dragging. they throw the dead into springs and wells. i can't begin to tell you of their awful doings. they have even stuck their bayonets through little children and held them up as they walked through the streets." after twisting nervously in his seat and breathing hard as he listened, buck hardy now started to his feet with a cry of rage. and then--- as july described the exhibition later--he "gritted his teeth and shook his fist and cussed awful." the negro did not exaggerate. buck hardy's rage was as vocal as it was intense. he exhausted all the most picturesque and crushing profanity he could think of, concluding: "i wish to god i could get my hands on one o' them devils!" it was on the tip of ted's tongue to say: "well, then, why don't you go where you can get a chance to do it?" but a warning nudge from hubert reminded him to be discreet in the case of their best friend in the camp. he also remembered july's advice not to push the big slacker too hard. and perhaps he didn't need any pushing now; for clearly he was awakened. so ted merely watched buck's signs of incandescent anger with great joy and said nothing. but buck himself must have seen the thought in the boy's glowing eyes. he must have sensed something in the general atmosphere of the fire-lit circle tending to convey to him the startling warning that he had put himself to the test by his own outburst. at all events he suddenly shut his lips, turned on his heel, and strode off into the dark woods. "the huns are beastly," ted then remarked to nobody in particular, "but after fifty years of training they are fine soldiers and it's no picnic to down them. that's why our country needs every able-bodied young man to go on the job." an embarrassing moment followed. ted looked around at the sober-faced slackers and their eyes fell before him. they had been thrilled, horrified, stirred with anger and feelings of outrage; but they were not ready to face the question they feared the persistent and plucky boy would put to them. they shifted their positions uneasily, began to get on their feet, and then in twos and threes went hurriedly off to bed, anxious to escape another direct appeal. "you put up a great talk and you sort of got hold of some of them this time," whispered hubert; "but you see--as i've told you before--that it won't do any good." "maybe it will--after a while," said ted, his eyes still glowing. buck hardy now reappeared and called back two of the retreating slackers. with their help, and without a word, he lifted ted and carried him up the ladder to his bed in the sleeping-loft. xiii ted heard the slackers leave the sleeping-loft early the next morning, but he did not stir. he knew that he ought to keep quiet, and, after reluctantly resigning himself to the necessity, he turned slightly on his bed of spanish moss and fell asleep again. when he awoke he was alone in the loft. a few minutes later july appeared with his breakfast, telling him that all the slackers had "done gone" and that hubert was "frolicin' wid billy." "mr. buck hardy say you mus' stay in dat bed all day," the negro informed him, adding: "mr. hardy sho is hurted in his mind. he don't say a word hardly. when i woke up late in de night las' night i seen him standin' out dere by de fire thinkin'. i reckon he studyin' 'bout dat waw an' all you tole him." buck's reported disturbance of mind was ted's only comfort during the long, tiresome day, for he felt confident that he knew the cause and was hopeful of the issue. hubert, billy and july visited him several times during the day, and at dinner time buck hardy, al peters and bud jones all spent a few minutes at his bedside, doing their best to cheer him up; but the boy spent some lonely hours and the consciousness of his and hubert's captivity oppressed him as at no time during the previous days of activity and diversion. what was to be the end of it? did their disappearance cause alarm at judge ridgway's farm? had his uncle returned from washington, and, if so, what did he think, and what would he do? it was very hard to lie quiet and just think, think, think. but the next day ted was glad he had done so, for he found that the complete rest, aided perhaps by the salve made of bear's marrow, had had a wonderfully healing effect. he could stand on his injured foot without pain and was able to walk with a limp. the two succeeding days, spent very quietly about the camp, were much less hard to endure, and on the fourth day he was almost himself again. meanwhile there had been talk with the slackers at meal times and about the camp fire at night, but the boy found little opportunity to speak of the war. if he introduced the subject the conversation was promptly diverted into other channels. ted noticed with discouragement that even buck hardy seemed to wish to hear no more. and so, fearing that after all he would be able to accomplish nothing, the boy found his thoughts turning toward plans of escape from captivity as soon as he felt assured of his ability to stand the strain of hard travel. on the fourth morning both boys gladly accepted an invitation from buck to make a trip with him in his boat. the big slacker announced at breakfast that he expected to visit honey island and, as their last harvest of honey was now exhausted, he would keep an eye open for a bee tree. the island to which they were going had received its name, it appeared, in consequence of several discoveries of bee trees there. july was ordered to prepare a lunch and the three were soon ready to start. sweet jackson observed their preparations narrowly and before they got off he called two young men known as zack james and jim carter, aside and urged them to accompany or follow the party. "i'm a-scared buck aims to turn them boys loose," he said. "that biggity little chap worries him a-carryin' on and exhortin' about the war the way he does--i kin see it--and i wouldn't be surprised if he wants to git shed o' them boys. i'd like to git shed of 'em myself, but it won't do--it ain't safe. you fellows better go 'long to honey island and keep yer eye on them boys." the precaution was one in which they were equally interested, and the two young men readily agreed to go. as he was poling his bateau off from the shore, buck was surprised to see them coming down the path, each with a gun in one hand and a bucket in the other. "we aimed to go over that way this mornin', too," zack james called out. "mebby we'd better keep together, buck, till you find a bee tree, so we kin holp you cut it down and gether the honey." "all right," said buck, after a keen, appraising look at the two men. it was soon evident to all, however, that the "cock of the walk" was displeased. during the long hard pull of more than two and a half hours over the boat-road winding through flooded swamp and forest he did not once speak to james or carter, although the distance between the boats was rarely greater than a hundred yards and often not more than a few feet. but he spoke now and then to the boys, pointing out objects likely to interest them, usually at moments when their trail-followers were out of earshot. "honey island ain't as big as ours," he told them once, casually adding: "on t'other side from where we'll land there's a good trail that leads out of the swamp. it's wet and boggy in places, but you don't need a boat. i reckon i could git out of the swamp in half a day by that trail." ted wondered how long it would take him and hubert to reach the outer world by the same path. they could not attempt it to-day, of course, even if they found opportunity, because his injured ankle was not yet in shape to stand hard travel, and he supposed that this probably accounted for buck's willingness to mention its existence. he decided that it would be wise to locate it, if possible, as part of the preparation for future attempted escape. "hubert," called out zack james when the island was reached, "pick up that piece o' rope in yer boat and fetch it along; we'll need it, mebby." the boats had run aground several yards from dry land, and all hands were now wading out, hubert being the last to step into the water, carrying the desired coil of rope. "i believe i kin go right to one," said buck, as soon as they had struggled through the dense "hammock" and gained the higher level of the island. "when i was huntin' h-yer week before last i saw lots and cords of bees, and i watched which way they was flyin'. if i'd 'a had time, i could 'a spotted one right then." no one was surprised, therefore, when little more than an hour later a bee tree was found. pausing under a tall pine, the big slacker turned to his followers and pointed to an almost continuous stream of bees, a dark line against the bright sky, issuing from an unseen hole in the trunk of the tree a few inches below the lowest branch, but more than fifty feet from the ground. it was now midday, and before attacking the tree, the party sat down on the wiregrass and ate the lunch which july had prepared. then james and carter rose and vigorously plied their axes on opposite sides of the tree. scarcely had the chips begun to fly when buck turned to ted and said: "if you boys want to, you kin take your guns and run around for a little hunt while we're cuttin' the tree and getherin' the honey." "i've seen one bee tree cut already, and i believe i would rather walk around," said ted. he turned to go as he spoke and promptly disappeared beyond a blackjack thicket, followed closely by hubert, who still carried the coil of rope over his arm. "this looks like as good a chance to get away as we may ever have," said ted as soon as they were out of earshot. "yes, if we can hurry up and find that half-day trail," hubert eagerly agreed. "do you think your ankle can stand a rush?" "no--that's the trouble," answered ted. "besides it would be much better to have july with us, and i believe he'll go when the time comes. let's find the trail, though, so that we won't have to lose any time if we get off by boat and make for this island." the watchful james had not failed to note the departure of the boys and he at once began to show signs of fatigue, drawing his breath very hard, putting in his strokes more slowly, and finally pausing altogether, with an exclamation indicating that his exhaustion was complete. "tired out a'ready?" asked buck contemptuously; and, taking the axe, which was willingly resigned to him, he began to swing it with great vigor. this was precisely what james desired, and he lost no time in quietly withdrawing to a point whence he darted into the bushes on the track of the boys. half an hour later, as ted and hubert hurried forward, leaping over logs and forcing their way through crowding underbrush, the former happened to look in the direction whence they had come and distinctly saw a man leap behind a tree. "it's no use, hubert," he said, pausing. "we can't even find the trail this trip. zack james is following us; i saw him jump behind a tree." "then jim carter is with him, and they'll stop us before we go far," declared hubert. "maybe it's just as well," said ted philosophically. "we know about where the trail is, and i was running great risk of spraining my ankle again." they sat down, panting on a log, agreeing to go forward more slowly a half mile further, and then return to the bee tree, just as if their trip had been a hunt and nothing more. they then rose and moved on, picking their way more cautiously. a few minutes later ted halted and signed to hubert to be quiet, as a crow suddenly cawed and flew out of a tree two or three hundred yards in their front. "that crow saw something, i'll bet," he whispered, and when what appeared to be fresh bear tracks were discovered, he added triumphantly: "i told you so." the tracks soon led them into what was doubtless the path of an aforetime tornado, the ground being crowded with uprooted trees, which had been thrown across each other at every angle and lay "heaped in confusion dire." here the trail was lost, but the boys still cautiously advanced. at the end of another hundred yards, standing on an elevated log and looking forward, ted became greatly excited at the discovery, not twenty feet away, of a small open space covered with a deep drift of pine needles, in the center of which were two round depressions or beds, some fifteen inches deep and not less than four feet in diameter. in one of these were two young bears, apparently asleep while their mother was away feeding. signing to hubert to be very quiet but to come quickly, ted waited until his cousin stood beside him on the log and had seen what neither was likely to have the opportunity of seeing again. for, indeed, as the slackers afterward declared, it was a "find" as remarkable as unexpected. "don't shoot 'em," whispered hubert. "let's catch one of 'em alive and take it to billy. we can tie it with this piece of rope." "we can try," assented ted, adding: "i wouldn't shoot the cute little things." cautiously they stole down the log and stepped upon the soft carpet of pine needles. a twig snapped under hubert's foot, whereupon one of the little bears lifted its head and looked around. instantly cub number one got upon its feet with a snort and bolted into the bushes, but before number two had followed ted was upon him. letting his gun fall, the boy plunged forward, alighting astride of the cub's back and grasping its ears with his hands. uttering a peculiar sound, partaking both of an angry snarl and a terrified whimper, the vigorous little beast tried to jump; but ted successfully held it down, although the frantic creature tore up the bed of pine needles with its powerful claws and struggled furiously to get at its captor. hubert made a slip-knot, as he was directed, and passed the rope around the animal's neck. then ted rose, letting the cub go as he seized firm hold of the other end of the rope. "we'd better look out for the old one now," he said warningly. released, the little bear ran away with great speed, dragging the boy after it along a path which fortunately led out into the more open pine woods and in the direction of the bee tree. snatching up ted's gun, hubert followed, looking about apprehensively for "the old one." as long as the cub ran in the right direction, no effort was made to check it; but before a great while it turned off abruptly to the right, and then ted had to exert all his strength to drag it after him. perhaps even his best efforts would have been unavailing, had not hubert, who covered their retreat, carrying both guns, frightened the little bear from behind with a frequent shove of his foot. within a few minutes buck hardy became aware of the absence of zack james and suspected its cause, but went on cutting into the bee tree without a word. when james reappeared three-quarters of an hour later his trivial excuses were accepted without comment. by this time the pine had been felled, the hollow was located, and now, protected from the angry bees by the smoke from burning rags, the three men proceeded to cut into the tree and secure the stores of honey, a job that was about complete when ted and hubert appeared. james had followed the boys far enough to become convinced that they were not running away and were really in pursuit of game; but his surprise was as great as that of the other men when the two young hunters came noisily into view, dragging the little bear after them. "well, this beats it all!" exclaimed buck hardy, dropping a bucket of honey and going to meet them. as the boys hastily told their story in outline, zack james walked up, smiling, and congratulated them. "i saw you following us," ted said to him, with a keen glance. "if you had stayed, you could have helped us bring in the cub." "who, me? i was jus' lookin' out for another bee tree," was the man's answer, but he dropped his eyes before buck's haughty stare. "let's hurry to the boats before the old one comes," urged ted. "it would be a pity to have to kill the mother after taking the baby--and we don't need the meat." "but some of us would like to have another bear skin," remarked jim carter. "all right, kid," said buck, taking no notice of carter's suggestion. "we're through, and we'll go." and go they did, carrying the honey and forcing the captive cub along as fast as they could. james and carter followed reluctantly, looking back and listening as they came; but at the landing place buck stood aside and waited for them to get afloat first and take the lead on the return trip. still more reluctantly they did this, not wishing a quarrel with the "cock of the walk." the two disappointed men were out of sight around a bend of the boat-road, and buck and the boys were following with their prize when they heard a crash in the brush on shore and saw a full-grown bear come rapidly along the path, its nose seemingly bent to the scent. buck started and gripped his gun, the hunter's instinct strongly astir within him. "oh, please don't shoot," whispered ted. "these bears are not dangerous unless attacked; they don't have to be killed on sight like panthers. it would be such a waste." "all right, kid; it's your bear," assented buck, and sent the boat gliding round the bend before it was seen by the heavy creature hurrying on their trail. xiv great was the delight of billy, and outspoken the admiration and surprise of all, when ted and hubert dragged their prize into the camp on deserters' island. everybody seemed pleased except sweet jackson. while the latest slackers to arrive were questioning and complimenting ted around the camp fire after supper, jackson began to laugh in a sneering sort of way and presently remarked to nobody in particular: "_he_ says if we waste a ounce o' meat we won't be able to whip them germans. then he kills a bear when we don't need the meat and right on top o' that he ketches a young cub. very fine to talk! i've seen preachers that didn't live up to ther preachin' before to-day." ted broke the silence that followed. "i confessed i was wrong the other time," he said, "but i thought this was different. we could have shot the mother, but we didn't. as for the cub, even if we can't tame it it can be kept until it is needed for food. do you think it can be tamed, mr. hardy?" "don't worry, kid; you're all right, whether you can tame it or not," said buck, after a steady look at sweet jackson that produced a noticeably sobering effect. "i saw a bear cub chained to a pole near a shanty on billy's island once, but it looked mighty wild and thin and down-in-the-mouth. i don't reckon they can be tamed without the help of one o' them circus men who knows how. this one's pretty apt to die--if it don't get away." ted looked very serious and fell silent. he lingered about the fire only until he had asked for news about the war from one "mitch" jenkins, a young man who had fled to the okefinokee to escape the new draft, joining the other slackers at their camp only that afternoon. finding that the newcomer had no news to impart of any importance, ted soon confessed that he was tired and went off with hubert to bed, there to lie awake a long while. as soon as he was assured by their heavy breathing and snoring that the slackers were all asleep, the boy crept to the door in the floor, quietly put down the ladder and descended. fifteen minutes later he was back in his bed. in the morning there was quite a commotion when it was discovered that the cub had escaped, although supposedly it was altogether secure. nobody noticed that ted did not look surprised. the boy kept his secret, regretting his act only at moments in the presence of the hapless billy's grief. ted consoled the quickly forgetful half-wit with the present of a silver quarter, and soon gave all his thought to more important matters. for after breakfast july called him aside and said with a very serious face: "come go wid me to de turkey pen; i got sump'n to tell you." "i haven't seen mr. hardy this morning," remarked ted, as he walked away from the camp with the negro. "dat's what i got to tell you. he on his way out de swamp. dat new man, mr. jinkins, brung de news dat mr. hardy's ma sick, an' bright an' early dis mawnin' he started out. an' what's mose as bad, mr. peters an' mr. jones gone wid 'im to fetch in some supplies. dem three treats me de bes' of all of 'em in dis camp, an' dey's yo' bes' friends, too." a sudden heart-sinking caused ted's voice to be shaken as he asked when they expected to get back. "mr. peters an' mr. jones say dey comin' right back--in two, three days. but how you gwine to calkilate on mr. hardy?" july stopped in his tracks and gazed solemnly into ted's eyes. "sposen his ma keep sick an' he stay dere till she die or git better? an' while he waitin', sposen dey grab him an' sen' him to do waw? we'd never see him yuh no mo'." ted's face brightened momentarily and he said: "if--if i thought he would go to the war willingly, i--i could give him up." "you sho is a cap'n," said july, looking down on the boy with admiration, "for i reckon you know it'll be mighty diffunt in dis camp wid mr. hardy gone." "i know," said ted, very serious. "i've been thinking about it." "fum de very fust day he stan' between you boys and dat rough crowd. an' dat puts me in mind o' what i got to tell you." july suddenly fell silent. they were now near the turkey pen or trap, and a fluttering of wings against its bars showed that their trip was not to be without substantial gain. two wild turkeys were captive in the pen. having taken these out with much elation, clipped their wings, tied their feet together, and scattered more shelled corn to attract fresh victims, july lifted his fluttering burden, started on the backward track, and resumed: "de las' words mr. hardy say to me was, 'july, tek good care o' dem boys,' and i aim to do my level bes' right now. cap'n ted, lem me give you a piece o' advice: don't you go to talkin' to dem t'other mens 'bout dat waw, let 'lone exhortin' and shamin' 'em like de way you done. hit won't do; hit won't begin to do. you sho must know dat yo'self." "i understand," said ted, gloomily. "if mr. peters an' mr. jones was dere, you might say a little, but better be careful any time. i kin keep you boys in good vittles, but i can't keep dem mens fum cuffin' you round if dey git mad. so, do please 'member what i tell you." after ted had gratefully thanked him july went on to express the conviction that if buck had not gone away in such a great hurry he would have left the boys better protected; he would have insisted that peters and jones stay at the camp in his absence and that two other men go out for the supplies. "but i reckon he was so worried 'bout his ma dat he couldn't think of eve'thing. he didn't forgit you, dough. he tole dem mens he wanted to take you-all out wid 'im. he say you been in dis swamp long enough an' you ought to be home. but dey wouldn't hear to it and dey voted him down. he was too worried an' busy gittin' ready to tussle wid 'em long, so he give up. but he tole 'em if anything happen to you boys while he gone dey'd have to answer to him." "he's a gentleman," said ted. "i can't understand why he ever came into this swamp, but i know what he is." "so dat's de way it stans," said july, as they were approaching the camp. "now, cap'n ted, you tell hubut all i tole you, an' den you boys mus walk easy an' watch out. if anybody starts sump'n, don't let it be you." ted soon found opportunity to tell hubert and was surprised to find that his cousin received the news more or less cheerfully. "now we may be able to get away from here," said hubert. "i've wanted to go all the time, but you had notions in your head and were never ready. i liked your spunk, ted, and i thought the way you talked to the slackers was fine; but i knew it would never do any good, and i thought it was foolish for us not to run away at the first chance." "i wanted to try to do a little to help win the war," said ted, rather pathetically, as if by way of excuse for error, as if wondering whether, after all, hubert had been right and he had been wrong. he sighed deeply, lacking in sufficient experience of life to know that even the greatest souls have moments of depression wherein they are doubtful as to whether the very purest and highest aspiration or endeavor is worth while or even justifiable before the bar of good sense. "we must get ready and watch for our chance," said hubert, and ted, sighing again, uttered no word of dissent. that day, devoted in considerable part to the discussion of plans, passed without important incident. the slackers came and went, the boys kept mostly to themselves, discreetly remaining within the borders of the camp, and there was peace. but at supper they noticed a studied coolness toward them, particularly in the larger group of which sweet jackson was the center. while the boys spoke and acted with all discretion, jackson stared at them often, talking in a low voice to those about him. his grudge against ted was plainly visible and he seemed to be trying to stir up the other men against him. the boys went off to bed early, much troubled in mind. at the camp fire the next night sweet jackson deliberately stepped out of his path in order to hook his toe under ted's outstretched leg and give it a rude and vicious shove. "why can't you keep yer feet out o' the road?" he shouted angrily. "why don't you do that to a man of your size?" cried ted in hot indignation. "_size_ don't bother me when i get good and mad," declared jackson menacingly. "oh, billy, don't you want to play a game!" called out hubert in the most cheerful voice. "come on, ted." then hubert jerked ted to his feet and pulled him away in the direction of the imaginary billy, who was, in fact, nowhere to be seen. "_don't_ answer him back," whispered the younger boy urgently. "if you do, we'll have trouble. keep away from him!" thus the incident passed and with it any immediate danger, thanks to hubert's ready and resolute interference. the next day at breakfast and dinner july served the boys after the slackers had eaten and scattered--at hubert's suggestion. and at supper he fed them with billy at the cook-camp fire about forty feet apart from the fire around which the slackers ate and lounged. sweet jackson observed the new arrangement with a mocking smile, looking over at the cook-camp often as he talked merrily with those about him. "that's right," he called out once. "stay there with the nigger, where you belong." ted started up, furious, but hubert hung upon him on one side and billy, giggling and thinking it was a kind of game, hung upon him on the other. "_don't!_" warned hubert. and then, as several of the slackers spoke up in protest, jackson made no further hostile demonstration. too outraged to speak, or even to think clearly, ted soon rose and almost literally staggered off to bed. "we'll have to go--to-day or to-night," were his first words to hubert next morning, after a sleepless night. this was at breakfast, after the slackers had scattered. he had purposely stayed in bed late in order to avoid them. he now spoke while the negro noisily cleaned his pots. "well, i've pumped july about all the trails leading out he knows of," said hubert, "and all we've got to do is to make a choice and beat it at the first chance." suddenly the negro turned from his pots and planted himself in front of the two boys, his face very serious. "cap'n ted," he began, "you reckon i kin 'pend on what you said 'bout gittin' a cook's job behind de lines in dat waw?" "i can't say for certain, july, but i think you can." "well, i got to tek de risk anyhow," the negro announced with an air of finality. "i's gwine out o' dis swamp. i's done wid dat gang o' white trash. i got my dose. i gwine out wid you boys." "that's great," cried hubert. "but what's happened, july?" "dis mawnin' when i was workin' de bes' i knowd how an' givin' dem men good vittles, dey up an' made fun o' my hair. dat-ere sweet jackson 'lowed dat a nigger wasn't a rale human pusson because, stid o' hair, he had wool on his haid. den dey all looked at me an' laughed till dey shook. i wished i could 'a' tole 'em dey was a liar and a-busted 'em wide open!" "that was very unkind," said ted, struggling hard, as did hubert, not to laugh. "i reckon you boys done had all you want o' dat gang yo'sef," said july, "an' in as big a hurry to git away fum yuh as i is." "yes," agreed hubert. "this is the fourth day and mr. peters and mr. jones haven't come back. there's no telling _when_ mr. hardy will come. even ted hasn't anything to stay for now." "i wanted so much to try to wake up some of the slackers and make them see," said ted, "but i'm afraid i can't do anything now. i give up," he concluded, a big tear rolling down one cheek. "cap'n ted, honey, don't you worry," said july, with sympathy. "you done yo' bes' and dat's all a man kin do. it look' to me sometimes like you was gwine to git mr. hardy an' maybe mr. peters, but you couldn't 'a' done nothin' wid dat white trash left yuh in dis swamp. if dey was _dragged_ to de waw dey would des lay down an' let de germans walk on 'em. i use' to hear a white gen'l'man say, 'you can't mek a silk purse out'n a sow's ear,' an' i putty nigh busted my head tryin' to understan' what he meant, but i knows now he was talkin' 'bout des sich trash as dat. don't you worry, cap'n ted; de president an' de gov'ment'll tek care o' dat waw." "we haven't any time to waste," spoke up hubert impatiently, proposing that they at once decide on a plan and begin to get ready. he asked the negro if they could run away that very day. july replied promptly that it wouldn't do to attempt to escape in the day time because since mr. hardy's departure the camp had been continually under observation from morning till evening. he said the break for freedom would have to be made at night "when dey ain't expectin'." with this much settled, they went on to discuss routes, and decided that a game of hide-and-seek led by billy should be the form of camouflage masking their start on their road that night after supper. the boys were still discussing plans when the majority of the slackers came into camp for dinner, and, as the new man, mitch' jenkins, passed near where they sat, ted suddenly got upon his feet and asked eagerly for news from the russian front. "now just look at him," muttered hubert impatiently. "will i ever get him away from this place?" "oh, mr. jenkins," began ted, in his politest manner, just as if nothing disagreeable had occurred, "i've been wanting to ask you if, before you came in, you heard whether germany and russia had made peace or not." "i didn't hear no talk of it," said jenkins, eying the boy curiously. "they had been about to make peace," said ted, "but just before i came in here they were on the point of going to war again. it was reported that the russians had threatened to kill , , german prisoners of war if the kaiser marched his army on petrograd. that would have been perfectly awful, but it's just the kind of thing the germans themselves did in belgium and france. i hope they haven't made peace; it's best for us for them to keep on fighting." "you take a heap of interest, for just a boy, in that war 'way off yonder," said jenkins, his manner not unfriendly. "everybody ought to take an interest, for we are in the fight, too, you know," said ted, forgetting and becoming argumentative. "why, don't you see, if the germans whip all europe and get england's fleet, they'll come right over here and attack us, and wherever they land our people will have to stand all the terrible things the belgians and the french have had to stand." "here you are a-talkin' about that war again!" stormed sweet jackson, who had walked up in time to hear a few words. "look h-yer, jackson, i don't see nothin' the matter with this boy," said jenkins, his tone sharp and his look steady. "why are you so sot agin him? he jes' asked me if two of them fightin' countries had made peace." "oh, well--if that was all," said jackson more quietly, yielding before unexpected belligerence. "thank you, mr. jenkins," said ted politely, and turned away. "that's a nice, polite kid," said jenkins to one of the slackers a few moments later. "what's all the row about anyhow?" "but you ain't heard him exhortin' and shamin' us runaways yet." "did he do that? well, that's a cat of another color. but he sure is a spunky kid." after supper that night, as the slackers told yarns and joked about the camp fire, billy, who had been craftily stimulated, seemed unusually wide awake and repeated nursery rhymes and "rigmaroles" by the dozen. taking hubert's hand in his, he touched the fingers one after another, repeating, "little man--ring man--long man--lick pot--thumpkin." then, tweaking the toes of his own bare feet, he merrily recited: "this little pig wants some corn; this one says, 'where you goin' to git it?' this one says, 'in master's barn.' this one says he's goin' to tell. this one says, 'queak!--queak!--can't git over the door-sill!'" touching first hubert's index finger and then his own as each word was uttered, billy went on: "william ma-trimble-toe; he's a good fisherman; catches hens, puts 'em in pens; some lays eggs, some lays none; wire, briar, limber-lock; sets and sits till twelve o'clock; o-u-t spells 'out'--go!" thus was started the camouflage game of hide-and-seek, ted at once, and july a little later by invitation, joining in the sport. it was a bright moonlight night, and no one seemed sleepy. the slackers stopped telling their yarns and watched the game, the seemingly joyful laughter of the boys and the negro affecting them agreeably. the fun was so contagious that several of the younger slackers, yielding to the fascination of it, joined in the game. "ten--ten--double ten--forty-five--fifteen hundred--are you all hid?" shouted billy in great glee and with an air of vast importance. and such whooping and running and hiding in far dark recesses as followed! "now's de time!" whispered july, when the fun was at its height, and he and ted and hubert had run off and squatted together behind the same clump of palmettos. according to the plan agreed to, the negro was now to run down to the landing-place, step into the water and hide all the boats as far out in the thick growth of the submerged swamp as he dared to go, thus conveying the impression that the fugitives had escaped by way of the great marsh. the course of the game now compelled the conspirators to separate and return to headquarters; but as soon as the next rush for cover was made the boys saw the negro dart away in the direction of the landing, and until he returned they played more enthusiastically and noisily than ever in order to distract attention from his absence. when he reappeared at last his trousers were wet to the knees, but this did not seem to attract notice. it was understood that the first rush for cover in the game after his return was to begin the dash for freedom. so when the boys saw the negro again dart away along the path into the swamp-cane, they followed fast with throbbing hearts, arriving at the boat-landing before billy had finished the last recitation of his "rigmarole." there ted and hubert were given their guns and july snatched up a bucket of food--all of which he had cunningly conveyed thither since the beginning of the game. the negro promptly stepped into the water and bade the boys follow. "got to wade round a piece to fool dem dogs," he whispered. xv july led the boys about fifty feet from the shore along the open boat-road, then turned to the right into the thick growth and skirted the island for several hundred yards before landing again. this was no trifling undertaking. the water in many places rose over their knees, and was thick with drift and moss; the bottom was often boggy, and the dense swamp growth forced them to a tortuous route. moreover, little light descended from the moon among those crowding trees. "ten--ten--double ten!" they faintly heard billy still shouting as they landed, glad to know that as yet their absence had not caused alarm. flight across the "prairie" had been voted down because they could take only two boats and rapid pursuit would be inevitable. the trail leading out from honey island attracted them, but the boat trip thither was difficult and impossible to follow by night. so they had chosen the jungle trail leading from the lower end of deserters' island which the boys had located on the day they killed the wild-cat. the boats had been hidden and they had waded some distance in order to convey a wrong impression as to their real design and delay pursuit. halting to listen a few minutes after they landed, they distinctly heard the names of ted and july called, and knew that at last they were missed. after a few minutes, as they hurried on their way, another shout reached them; and after a brief silence several sharp short yelps from the dogs were heard. july leaped forward at the sound, urging the boys to haste. the darkness was bewildering until they emerged from the "hammock" and gained the more open pine woods forming the backbone of the island. here the moonlight filtered through the scattering tops of the tall pines and they could distinguish prominent objects fifty feet away. even here, however, rapid headway was difficult owing to the blackjack thickets and crowding clumps of the fan-palmetto preventing a straight course. there was a faint trail leading for some three miles toward the lower end of the island, but there was no time to search for it, and they pushed ahead in the general direction as best they could. an hour later, descending at last into the dense "hammock" growth joining the swamp and the island's lower end, they halted to listen. all was deathly still, at least in the direction of the slackers' camp; but the quiet of the dark slumbering swamp in their front was suddenly broken by the dismal hoot of an owl. ted urged that they search for the jungle trail he and hubert had located and, having found it, push far into the swamp before break of day; but july's courage now failed him and he objected. he said it was dangerous to push into the swamp at night, as indeed it was; that they might sink into a bog over their heads, might walk blindly into a nest of moccasins, or might be set upon by a panther. "the great trouble is that you are both right," said hubert. "dem mens won't start down dis-a way till daylight," said july. "dey won't find out we ain't in de boats till mawnin' an' we kin git a big start on 'em on de swamp trail. less stay up dere in dem open pines till daybreak." they paused a few moments, undecided. suddenly from the dark depths of the swamp in their front a strange cry was borne to their ears, an indescribable cry that made their flesh creep. "what's that?" whispered hubert. "mus' be a pant'er," was july's whispered response. the cry was heard again, more mysterious and startling than before. then july bolted up the slope and was followed by the boys into the more open pine woods where the moonlight outlined all objects within their near view. july wanted to build a fire, but ted would not consent to such imprudence, and finally it was agreed that they sit down with their backs to a large pine and watch until daylight. all was now quiet and gradually they recovered from their fright. it was balmy spring weather, but they felt the chill of the night air. with a view to their greater comfort, july rose and tore down a couple of armfuls of spanish moss that thickly wreathed a near-by blackjack thicket. when their legs were covered with this they were warm enough, but now found it increasingly difficult to sit upright and alert. soon drowsiness overcame july, his head dropped on his breast and he began to snore. ted roused him several times only to see him relapse into insensibility a few moments later. soon hubert also was asleep, and, after watching for perhaps an hour longer, ted himself succumbed. later, as he struggled to rouse himself and opened his eyes, he saw that the moon was low and concluded that all was well. as he drifted back toward dreamland he thought he heard a yelp or two from distant dogs, but was too benumbed by drowsiness to give heed. possibly the dogs of the far camp had started on the trail of some animal, but what could this matter to the three sleepers under the pine? this half-thought itself was soon gone and the boy lay still, undisturbed by even a dream. when ted awoke it was daylight, and the dogs were leaping about him and barking. several men were at hand, too; and the one nearest, who looked down at the sleepers with a triumphant grin, was sweet jackson. they were caught! and what else could they have expected? the events of the night leaped forth from the boy's memory to shame him. if only they had not been such cowards and sleepyheads! "don't hurt them boys! you can't blame 'em for tryin' to get away," called mitch' jenkins sharply, as sweet jackson began kicking july to wake him. ted hurriedly wakened hubert and they both rose to their feet, turning away their indignant eyes from the severe kicking and cuffing bestowed upon july before he was allowed to rise. "thought you'd give us the slip along with them boys, did you?" shouted sweet. "_i'll_ teach you to give notice before you quit yer job." "he's got a right to go home and so have we," cried ted indignantly. "and some day you'll pay for this!" "shut up," cried jackson, turning upon ted--"if you want me to keep my hands off of you!" "you let that boy alone," said mitch' jenkins, a distinct menace in his tone, and the bully subsided. then, being ordered to march and to "be quick about it," the prisoners started toward camp, ted silent and thoughtful, hubert crying softly, and july with a face of gloom. their captors followed, laughing and jesting as they came. when the camp was reached july proceeded to cook breakfast, as ordered, and the boys stood and watched as the slackers set about building a "prison"--a sort of pen of heavy saplings--in which they announced that the negro would hereafter be locked up at night. what disturbed all of the captives perhaps even more than this was the order given to july, with threats of punishment, to "keep away from them boys" in the day time. the building of the prison-pen occupied the slackers until near noon, and, while they were waiting about camp for their dinner, mitch' jenkins proposed that they "knock off" work that afternoon and "have a little fun out of a gander-pulling." jenkins had brought a live gander on his march into the swamp because, as he explained when he reached the camp, he had failed to lay hands on a couple of fat chickens. "but we ain't got no horses nor no race track," objected zack james. "oh, we'll just swing him up and run round and grab him on foot. it's been done that way. anything for a little fun." this proposal having been adopted, preparations for the sport were begun immediately after dinner. from the stout limbs of two neighboring trees branching out some six or eight feet apart a rope was loosely swung, and to this the gander's feet were securely tied, so that the fowl's neck hung within easy reach of a man of average height. before the squawking bird was hung up its neck was thoroughly greased, both operations being strenuously objected to and jealously watched by billy, who had already adopted the gander as one of his pets. all hands having gathered at the spot, jenkins, the leading spirit of the festivity, passed round a hat and took up a collection of coins as a prize for the as yet unknown victor. the two boys, billy and july formed the party of spectators, all the slackers, now only six in number, proposing to enter the contest. lots having been drawn in order to determine who should have the first trial, the second, the third, and so on, mitch' jenkins announced the opening of the sport. "everything is lovely and the goose hangs high," he shouted. "gentlemen--let 'er go!" thereupon sweet jackson, who had drawn the first lot, took position about fifty feet away and at a given signal started forward at a rapid run. as he neared the swinging gander, his right hand was thrust upward, and he endeavored to seize the fowl by its neck. but in this he failed, the gander cunningly twisting its head out of reach. a loud guffaw went up from the on-looking slackers as this signal failure was witnessed. jim carter then ran forward and grasped at the neck of the swinging fowl with no better success. the turn of zack james followed. he succeeded in seizing the gander's neck, and, but for the treacherous grease, its head would have accompanied him in his onward rush. released, the unhappy bird swung back and forth, hissing and squawking in an extremely ludicrous yet pathetic manner, exciting the laughter of the slackers, the pity of the boys and the angry protest of billy. "quit it! quit it, i tell you! you-all let my gander alone!" cried the witless young man again and again as the contest continued. once he ran forward and tried to take the fowl down, but retired, whimpering, on receiving a resounding box on the ear from jackson. after all hands had made several trials and the gander's greasy neck had received a number of rude wrenches, the poor fowl held its head less high, ceased to hiss, and squawked more plaintively than ever. the game was easier now, and almost every contestant succeeded in grasping the neck as he ran past, but always failed to retain his hold. at last, after the contest had continued for more than an hour and a half, and the object of the cruel sport had almost ceased to make any outcry whatever, zack james leaped upward as he ran by and grasped the neck of the fowl near its breast. as his body was carried onward by the force of its momentum, his tightly gripped hand slipped rapidly along the gander's neck, but paused at its head. for one moment the man's body swung from the ground, his whole weight supported by the neck of the still living fowl. it was then that he gave his hand a vigorous twist. the next moment he pitched forward on his feet, carrying the gander's head in his grasp. at this moment ted seized the opportunity offered by the universal preoccupation of the slackers to speak earnestly to hubert. in spite of their disapproval of such cruel sport, both boys had been absorbingly interested in the contest, but now ted's thoughts returned to the problem of escape from deserters' island. declaring that another attempt should be made that night, he urged hubert to be watchful and ready. then, stepping cautiously to the side of the negro, whose eyes were fastened on the now noisily disputing slackers, the boy said: "we must try it again to-night, july." "don' know 'bout dat," said the negro doubtfully. "better wait. dey'll be watchin' us too close." "that's it; they won't be expecting it to-night, and that's the very reason we ought to have a good chance." this view of the matter promptly appealed to the negro, who ceased to object and listened attentively to the boy's suggestions. "get ready on the sly," urged ted. "put a bucket of food where you can lay your hands on it, and late in the night we'll slip out of the loft and let you out of your pen." "all right, cap'n ted; i'll be ready, an' if i's sleep, des gimme a punch in de ribs." then they moved quickly away from each other and gave their attention to the loudly contending slackers. "and _i_ say mr. james gits the prize," cried mitch' jenkins. he detached himself from a noisy group as he spoke, stepped to the side of the waiting victor and poured the collection of coins into his hand. "he didn't git it fair," declared sweet jackson, in loud, angry tones. "who _can't_ wring off a gander's neck if he swings on to it that-a way?" "we all had the same chance to do what he did," argued jenkins, good-humoredly. "the trouble was we couldn't keep our grip." "i say hit wan't done fair!" repeated jackson, in great anger. flushed with victory, james did not pause to calculate consequences and now gave his accuser the lie, which, in local parlance, was equivalent to the "first lick." sweet jackson's face turned livid, and, whipping out a large pocket-knife, he leaped toward james. almost at the same instant jenkins and carter sprang toward jackson from opposite sides, but the uplifted blade descended before james had protected himself and ere the interference was made fully effective. although jackson's arm was seized, the point of the knife deeply grazed the left cheek of the prize-winner. a moment later the staring spectators noted a rapidly expanding streak of red. the murderous but fortunately arrested blow had done only slight damage, yet the free flow of blood imparted a harsh and startling reality to the forbidding scene, the horror of which was intensified by the effect on billy. "oh, yes, zack james, see now what you got for pullin' off my gander's head!" cried the witless young man triumphantly, capering about and giggling. "see what you got now! i wish my gander knowed it. i'll bet he does know, too. anyhow he'll know by and by and he'll laugh. he'll have a good laugh." "stop that!" commanded jenkins, turning a shocked and stern face toward the untimely merrymaker. then billy subsided, watching as silently as the other spectators while jackson was forced away in one direction and james in the other, both cursing with great fury, and each vowing that he would take the life of the other. xvi the two boys and the negro remained motionless in their places, wondering what would happen next, until billy cut down the body of the headless gander and was about to bear it away. then july interfered. "gim-me dat gander, boy," he said, laughing. "quit yer foolin' an' gwine on. we got to hab dat gander for supper." james now sat with his back to a pine, and jenkins was bending over him and wiping away the blood with a wet handkerchief. the latter, seeing that the cut was little more than a painful scratch, began to jest and laugh, the atmosphere of tragedy being thus quickly dispersed. having salved the wound, predicting a speedy healing, jenkins turned to seek jackson and "give him a talking to." the "knife-slinger" was pointedly informed that if he wanted to have a single friend left in the camp, he had better keep a grip on himself in future. listening to this forcible utterance of common sense, jackson rapidly cooled down, ceasing his profane and threatening speeches. and so, in spite of the violent termination of the festive gander-pulling, the slackers soon recovered their wonted spirits. after supper, with the exception of the wounded man who went immediately to bed, they sat about the fire and joked, sang corn-shucking songs, and drank corn-beer, in the greatest possible good humor. but july smiled covertly and shook his head, as soon as he found opportunity thus forcibly expressing himself: "look yuh, cap'n ted, i got to git away fum dis place befo' somebody draw a knife on me an' cut my throat." "we'll get away to-night," said the boy confidently. "we got a good chance," assented july. "after all dat jollification dem mens'll sleep hard, cep'n it's mr. james wid dat cut face. you better look out for _him_. you better not move a foot till 'way late 'bout two o'clock." hubert fell asleep soon after they had lain down on their bed of moss in the corner of the loft, but ted lay awake for hours, listening and waiting. he had been rendered the more anxious by a suggestion that was made as the slackers were taking off their shoes and preparing to lie down. "don't you reckon we'd better tie them boys?" proposed sweet jackson. "oh, no," answered the more humane jenkins. "they've had their lesson." jackson did not seem to think it necessary to insist and the boys were left in freedom of hand and foot, to their great relief. but the restlessness of james was a continuing source of apprehension, his smarting face causing him to turn frequently with a grunt or sigh or muttered exclamation of annoyance. at last ted began to fear that there was no hope of stealing out of the loft that night, and in the midst of his discouragement sleep overtook him. when he awoke all was quiet, except for the snoring of several of the men. zack james, who had been restless so long, now lay still and made no sound. ted did not know why, but he felt convinced that it was near morning. lifting himself guardedly upon his knees, he bent over his sleeping cousin, shook him and whispered in his ear. hubert stirred sleepily and began a stupid muttering in a voice seemingly so loud that ted was terrified, allowing the boy to relapse into slumber. after listening intently and hearing no disturbance, ted tried again and this time roused hubert to complete wakefulness without noise. the two then crept along the wall until they stood opposite the hole in the floor. as they did this, ted, who led the way, stumbled over an outstretched foot and narrowly escaped falling. the disturbed sleeper grunted, muttered a few unintelligible words, turned over, and all was quiet again. just as the boys were preparing to swing themselves down through the opening, not daring to put down the ladder, one of the sleepers stirred noisily, and they heard the voice of james demanding: "who's that?" drawing back into the deep shadow, the boys stood silent, holding their very breath. the challenge was repeated. then, for perhaps a quarter of an hour, ted and hubert stood in their tracks, hardly moving a muscle, breathing softly, and fearing that even the beating of their hearts would be heard. convinced at last that the wounded man had relapsed into slumber, they noiselessly swung themselves down through the opening and dropped softly to the ground below. several dogs, lying asleep beneath the loft, rose and followed the boys with signs of great cheerfulness, evidently anticipating a night hunt. the first need was to "turn july out," as hubert put it. this consisted merely in lifting away the heavy section of a log braced against the makeshift door of the prison-pen, and was soon accomplished without noise. july came forth, rubbing his eyes, and whispering: "i clean give you out an' went to sleep. it's mose daylight," he added, "an' we better be gwine quick." "let's take the dogs, so that they can't use 'em to track us," suggested ted. "we can make 'em come back after we get a good start of five or six miles. i wish i could keep spot," he added, referring to the dog that had so devotedly battled with the panther. july agreed to this, and the dogs were called softly. the whole pack, five in number, followed gladly, as the boys and the negro hurried away from the camp. it had been decided on the evening before to take the jungle trail leading from the lower end of deserters' island, and they now moved in that direction. the intervening miles of high pine land were covered with the greatest possible speed. wherever the ground was sufficiently open they ran, and even in the brush they pushed forward rapidly, careless of scratched hands and faces or torn clothing. faint light filtered through the treetops from the whitening sky before they had traversed half the length of the island, and by the time they reached its limit birds on every hand were singing their welcome to the arrival of a new day. the fugitives now observed with considerable concern that the dogs had disappeared, surmising that they had recognized the difference between a flight and a hunt and in consequence had returned to camp. they soon found the trail and hurried down into the jungle, careless of the mud and water, the thorny brambles, the possible moccasins. they knew that within an hour's time the pursuit would begin and recognized the need of great haste at any cost. july, who led the way, paused suddenly; and, opening the tin bucket carried on his arm, urged the boys to take some of the sandwiches therein and stuff them in their pockets. "may be hard to keep togedder when dey come at' us wid de dawgs," he said,--adding: "but if you boys git lost fum me, you keep gwine on by yo'self till you git out de swamp an' find yo' way home." pressing on with the utmost energy for an hour longer, and not as yet hearing any sounds indicating pursuit, they began to feel more secure; and soon, at the urgent suggestion of hubert, they sat down on a log to refresh themselves with some of the cold food while resting their wearying legs. "we got to be gwine!" cried july less than fifteen minutes later. he had sprung to his feet as the distant baying of dogs fell on his ear. all knew at once that the slackers were again on their trail and that there was no time to lose. again the negro led the way, taking new precautions and urging the boys to do precisely as he did. as he dashed forward over the difficult ground, he jumped from tussock to tussock, stepped upon roots and masses of dry moss, and avoided every bit of soft exposed earth where a track would remain imprinted. whenever a fallen log ran parallel with their course, he sprang upon it and walked its full length. once he made a complete circle, two hundred yards or more in diameter; then, springing upon a fallen log several feet beyond the limits of this circle, and directing the boys to do likewise, he pressed forward again over the direct course. all this was intended to confuse and delay the dogs, if it did not throw them off the scent altogether; but in no great while it appeared to have succeeded only in a small measure. for the baying, instead of gradually fading away in the distance as desired, after ceasing for a time became more vigorous than ever and unmistakably drew nearer. soon july halted, looked round, and waited for the boys to overtake him. "dem dawgs'll be yuh in no time," he said, discouraged. "will they bite us?" asked hubert apprehensively. "no; they know us," said ted. "we could shoot them," he added, facing the negro, a question in his tone. "i'd hate to do it, and i don't think i _could_ shoot spot, but we have a right to do it." ted and hubert carried their small guns. the negro was armed only with a hatchet and a heavy butcher-knife, the blade of which gleamed brightly where it stuck in his belt. "better let me go for 'em wid de hatchet or dis knife," said july, shaking his head. "soon's you shoot dem mens'll know 'zackly where we is." further discussion was checked by the warning of a yelp very close in their rear. bidding the boys conceal themselves, july ran back a few yards over the trail and took his stand behind a large tree trunk. as the foremost dog was about to trot past, the negro leaned over and dealt it a terrific blow on the head with the butt end of the hatchet, breaking through its skull. with a stifled cry in its throat, the dog rolled over and lay in the struggle of approaching death, whereupon the four others coming up shied away from the unseen danger and took to their heels on the backward track with yelps of affright. after ted had gladly taken note that the slain dog was not spot, the three fugitives hurried onward as before, and for an hour they heard nothing more from the dogs. finally a subdued and, as it seemed, muffled yelp began to be heard at intervals. july looked puzzled and several times paused to listen, showing great anxiety when he became convinced that the sounds were drawing nearer. at last he said he believed that the slackers held the dogs in leash, their object being to steal upon the unsuspecting fugitives while they halted to rest in fancied security. "if we ain't quick dey'll nab us befo' we know it," the negro concluded. "can't we put the dogs off the scent in some way?" asked ted, looking about him. they were now in a dense growth of water-oaks and other trees, gay with the full green leafage of spring; and some little distance ahead water could be seen. "i believe we could climb up and swing from limb to limb until we got out yonder over that water," eagerly proposed ted. "then we could drop down and wade as far as the water went, then climb up again, and, if the trees keep thick enough, go quite a long way. _that_ would break the trail." "it sho will," assented july, "if only we kin do it. may be easy for you light boys, but hit won't be so easy for me." "let's try it anyhow," urged ted, and they at once began preparations. by means of stout twine, much of which they had fortunately stuffed into their pockets, ted securely strapped his gun on his back. july having disposed of hubert's gun and his own bucket in the same way, giving hubert the hatchet in exchange, and all now having arms as well as legs free, they began to climb. for once, hubert led the way. lifting himself among the larger branches of a spreading water-oak, he found it comparatively easy to walk out on a lower limb--while grasping a higher--until he could lay hold of an interlacing branch and swing himself safely among the larger arms of a neighboring tree. repeating this performance, he passed on from tree to tree. ted followed readily enough, for, though older, he was no heavier than hubert, and was even more active; but he lingered behind to watch and softly encourage july. because of his far greater weight and the bending of the branches beneath him, the negro might well hesitate and move cautiously. he soon saw that his only hope was in a bold leap into the branches of the neighboring tree, trusting to his quick, firm grasp to arrest his descent to the ground. the sound of a muffled yelp from the dogs, unmistakably coming from a point only a short distance away, spurred july on, and he took the dangerous leap, landing among the stout branches of the neighboring tree unharmed save for scratches and bruises which he scarcely felt. "you can do it," ted called back softly, by way of encouragement. "come on as fast as you can." "don't wait on me," said july. "i'll git dere bimeby. you boys hurry on." so ted followed faster on the track of hubert. within a few minutes from the start the boys had transported themselves more than a hundred yards without setting foot on the ground and were soon over the water. they then let themselves down, waded knee-deep some fifty yards among scattering cypress trees, grasped a low limb of another water-oak, swung themselves up and were once more traveling, monkey-like, aloft. "you go ahead, hubert," said ted. "i'll wait here till i see july coming." hubert went on and ted waited. but he waited in vain, for july was in trouble. after leaping successfully three or four times, at last--while the boys were wading across the cypress pool--july failed to gain a firm hold of the branches through which his heavy body descended, and, though his fall was broken by the leafy obstructions, he struck the ground with great force and was for a few moments partially stunned. a sudden yelping of the dogs now very close at hand roused him to action. struggling to his feet, he laid hold of the tree into which he had attempted to jump, and climbed with some difficulty into its branches. the unfortunate negro saw that it was now too late to jump again, even if he dared to do so, badly shaken as he was, and that his forlorn and only resource was to conceal himself as best he could in the higher foliage of the tree. scarcely had the trembling of the leaves and branches subsided when the pursuers were heard very near at hand, july promptly recognizing the voices of sweet jackson, jim carter and two other men belonging to the camp. they held the dogs in leash, as the negro had suspected, but were marching with the greatest possible speed. reaching the point where the trail came to an end, the dogs one and all halted, snuffing the air in a mystified way, and could hardly be forced forward. "they must be round h-yer some'rs," the harsh voice of sweet jackson declared. "mebby they tuck a tree," suggested carter. a silence followed, and july understood only too well that the members of the party had separated and were scanning the neighboring treetops. suddenly one of the dogs began to bay immediately beneath him, and a few moments later the triumphant voice of carter was heard: "h-yer's one of 'em up this tree!" xvii the dog had snuffed the spot where he fell to the ground, and poor july was discovered. "it's the nigger," announced carter after a few moments. "shoot 'im if he don't git down from there quick," cried jackson, savagely. instantly the branches of the water-oak began to tremble, and july descended with all speed. "now where's them boys?" demanded his captors. "i dun-know where dey is." curses greeted this denial, and jackson threatened to "break every bone" in the negro's body if he did not reveal the hiding place of the boys at once. "i tell you i dun-know," insisted july, determined to prevent the capture of his young confederates if he could possibly do so. "all i know is," he lied boldly, "dey got lost fum me 'way back yonder where we fout de dawgs." abusive exclamations of incredulity were supplemented by carter with the warning: "that was rafe wheeler's dog you killed, and i reckon he'll make you see sights before he's done with you." july knew that there was trouble ahead of him in any case, and as he obediently followed his captors while they beat the neighboring bush, endeavoring in vain to start the dogs on the scent, he stuck to his story, unblushingly inventing incidents with a view to impart to it an atmosphere of convincing reality. as ted waited and watched for july, he noted that the spreading branches of the water-oak embraced the trunk of an immense old decaying cypress, and that there was a circular opening in its side a foot or two above him and only a few feet away. plainly there was a large hollow--possibly the result of some past forest fire--for the opening was at least two feet in diameter. he saw also that, by moving a foot or two nearer on the limb supporting his weight, he could grasp the sides of the opening and perhaps enter the hollow. he now heard the murmur of voices and listened intently, fearing that the pursuers had arrived and put an end to july's chances of escape. the voices grew louder, and then the tramp of feet was heard, but still ted lingered, owing both to his concern for july's safety and his eagerness to know the definite issue. then, before he realized that they were so near, the slackers appeared with the dogs and july himself on the other side of the cypress pool and began to wade across. ted now perceived that he was in peril. it was too late to hurry on the trail of hubert, for the noise and leafy commotion inevitably accompanying his passage from tree to tree would at once attract attention. doubtless hubert was far enough away to be reasonably safe and could for the time be left to take care of himself. at all events ted realized that his own safety could be his only immediate concern, and that it was necessary not only to keep quiet but to hide. therefore, without a moment's delay, he moved guardedly out on the bending limb, leaned forward and grasped the sides of the cypress's hollow, which fortunately proved to be firm. drawing himself up quietly, he thrust his feet through the opening and slid into the hollow with but little noise. as he did so, a large squirrel whisked past him with a frightened squeak and scurried wildly up the sides of the cypress. "i never saw such a piece of good luck," ted declared afterward, relating that the hollow was neither too big nor too little, and that his feet landed on a firm bottom just far enough below the opening to permit him to stand comfortably and look out. but when he looked out he could see little more than the foliage of the water-oak. he listened intently as the slackers waded across the pool. he hoped that they would turn aside, but they seemed to come straight on. a few moments later the dogs made a noisy rush and he heard them barking excitedly immediately beneath the cypress. convinced that he had been scented and was now "treed," the boy feared that one of the slackers would promptly climb up and drag him from his hiding place. but he kept quiet and still hoped for some fortunate turn of events. tempted to lean out and look down, he drew his head back quickly and almost held his breath. he had glimpsed two men tramping around in the shallow water beneath the oak and looking up into its branches. evidently the opening in the side of the cypress had not yet been discovered, as there was no triumphant outcry, and at this thought ted felt somewhat encouraged. he now heard the impatient voice of carter: "_i_ don't see nothin'. what's the matter with them dogs anyhow?" then came the voice of july, speaking at a greater distance: "look at dat fox-squirrel!--skippin' round 'way up in de top o' dat cypress! dat's what ail de dawgs." ted blessed the squirrel for the good service it had evidently performed by changing its position and immediately attracting the eye of those below because of the cypress's characteristically thin leafage. "i reckon that's it," said garter. "it sho is," insisted july, "for dem boys is a fur ways fum yuh des like i tole you." "don't care how fur--i'll git 'em 'fore i quit," the angry voice of sweet jackson was then heard. "drive them dogs away from there and come on." the dogs were called off, the voices became only a faint murmur, the noisy tramping through water subsided, and soon the ordinary quiet of the forest reigned. recovering his wonted spirits, ted laughed softly, but remained motionless for twenty minutes or more. he would have waited still longer but for his anxiety in regard to the whereabouts and fate of hubert. climbing out of the hollow, he let himself down into the shallow water beneath the oak and whistled softly. he whistled again a little more loudly, and was then immensely gratified to receive a cautious response. whistling softly, the boys approached each other and soon stood face to face. then each quickly told his story. "yes, i heard 'em," said hubert, "and i was almost too scared to breathe. i stayed up in my tree as quiet as a mouse. i was awfully afraid they'd get you as well as july." they hurried on their way as they talked, and soon left the neighborhood far behind. it was now midday and, being no longer in fear of immediate capture, the boys had leisure to discover that they were tired as well as hungry. so they stopped to rest and eat what remained of the cold bread and meat given them by july. but they knew that there was no time to be lost and within less than half an hour they were pushing forward again. soon after they had penetrated the jungle that morning, the trail gradually faded away until july doubted whether they had found the right one in the first place; and, after the dogs were heard on their track, the negro made no further effort to follow it, but pushed ahead in the general direction taken, choosing the most open and passable ground. this was ted's plan now. toward mid-afternoon the ground began slowly to rise before them, and the forest growth to become less dense, until finally they emerged from the jungle region altogether and found themselves on an open pine ridge where the ground was covered with wiregrass and dotted with clumps of fan-palmettoes. they believed they were now, at last, clear of the great swamp, but tramped on without any exchange of congratulatory exclamations, not daring to jubilate too soon. "this looks like the outside," was all hubert said, and ted merely admitted: "it looks good to me." "i smell smoke," said hubert a few minutes later. they had now tramped out into the open pine woods some half a mile, and the wind blowing into their faces wafted a distinctly smoky odor, suggesting a forest fire. the probability of this was shortly confirmed by the sight of fleeing birds, and here and there an animal, as a deer, a fox or a skunk making rapidly toward the flooded swamp area. "somebody must be burnin' off the woods for the cattle," said ted, elated. "if that's it, we are certainly out of the swamp at last." he referred to the common practice in the region bordering the okefinokee of firing the woods in spring in order to destroy the year's crop of tough wiregrass and so give place to a tender green growth on which the cattle might feed to better advantage. in no great while the boys could see the fire itself here and there, and ere long they were confronted by an unbroken barrier of flame extending across the whole ridge. their position was becoming dangerous, and ted looked around in some anxiety. the swamp half a mile behind was a certain refuge, and he believed that they could reach it ahead of the fire, but he was reluctant to turn back. while hesitating, his eye fell upon a small cypress pond some three hundred yards to the left, and, calling on hubert to follow, he started toward it on a run. ted felt confident that, even if there were no water in the pond, the fire would not burn through it. "pond" is hardly an accurate description of these little groves of a dozen or two of cypresses so frequently found in the pine barrens, although they are always on low, swampy ground, which in wet weather is likely to be covered with a foot or two of water. a small pool about twenty feet in diameter lingered in the center of this one, but the boys did not wade into it. as soon as they stood among the cypress "knees" and trod upon spongy ground covered with damp pine needles they felt safe. during a few minutes hot and almost stifling smoke filled the surrounding atmosphere, but the fire itself merely burned round the edges of the pond and then passed on its roaring way, the wind soon carrying off the smoke also. after waiting some little time for the ashes of the burnt grass to cool, the boys came out of their retreat and picked their way across the blackened ground. the wiregrass had entirely disappeared before the flames, but the tall pines, the scrub-oaks and the clumps of fan-palmettos stood for the most part intact. here and there some fallen and well-seasoned log still burned vigorously, and in a few instances fire had run up on the oozing sap to the tops of the tallest trees. ted and hubert tramped over the blackened and heated earth about a mile and a half, always hoping soon to see the clearing and log house of some backwoods settler. but when at last they reached a "hammock" growth and descended through it to the borders of a vast "prairie" or marsh, in every respect similar to the one adjoining deserters' island, this pleasing hope became a sigh of regret. it was now quite clear that they were still within the borders of the great okefinokee, and that they had just traversed one of its islands or areas of elevated land. the origin of the fire puzzled ted at first, but he concluded that some of the slackers, or hunters from the outside, had recently been there and had neglected to extinguish or clear a space about their camp-fire. "it's going to rain," said ted, looking up at the darkening sky, "and we'd better fix our camp right away." a favorable spot on the outskirts of the hammock was chosen, and they hurriedly erected a "brush tent," or lean-to, similar to those they had heard the slackers speak of building when too far away to return to camp for the night. when the fugitives began their tree-top retreat that morning, july had relieved hubert of his gun and given the boy his hatchet in exchange. with the hatchet the boys now cut down a slender sapling which they tied at each end with bear-grass thongs to two small trees about ten feet apart. against this cross-bar, which was about four feet from the ground, eight or ten other cut saplings were leaned at an angle of about forty-five degrees and less than a foot apart. over these were then arranged about a hundred palmetto fans cut within a few feet of the spot, thus forming a thatch which was protected against gusts of wind by two or three other saplings laid diagonally across. they thus secured a fairly good shelter and were sure of sleeping dry unless the wind changed and blew into the open front instead of against the thatch at the back. it was nearly dark when the work was finished, but it had not yet begun to rain. while hubert now gathered wood for their camp-fire, ted took his gun and stole off into the woods, hoping to shoot something for supper. he had not gone very far when a fluttering and dimly outlined forms on a high limb of a tall bay tree indicated a "turkey roost." taking careful aim, he fired, and then, amid the noisy flap of wings as the wild fowl scattered, he thought he heard a soft thud on the ground beneath the "roost." running to the foot of the bay tree, he was delighted to find that he had bagged a plump turkey-hen. some spanish moss having been gathered and spread on the ground in the acute angle of the lean-to, and portions of the turkey having been broiled with fair success on glowing coals raked out of the fire, the boys satisfied their hunger and lay down with a feeling of comfort which hardly seemed in keeping with their continuing misfortunes, and which was not lessened by the harmless patter of the rain-drops on the thatch over their heads. "i hope a bear won't come along and knock our shelter down," remarked hubert a few minutes after they lay down. there was no real apprehension in his tone, the first nervousness inseparable from sleeping in the remote woods of the okefinokee having by this time disappeared even in his case. ted stretched his limbs, yawned, and made no reply; but a few minutes later he said: "you remember uncle walter saying the night before he left for washington that the experts thought the war would last about three years? if it does, we'll be about old enough to go in--if we volunteer, and i will." "i wouldn't mind an old-fashioned war, with fighting in the open in the old way," said hubert, after a moment's thought. "but that hard and dirty trench fighting, the terrible big new cannon, the poison gas, and all the devilish doings of the germans--it sort of gets on my nerves." "we'd get used to it," said ted. "and to go in is the only thing to do. you remember the greek mythology tale about how the new race of gods knocked out and gave the hideous and terrible cyclops their finish, fastening them down under great rocks? the germans and their deviltry make me think of the cyclops, and they've got to be put down in something of the same sort of way, or the world won't be safe for anybody. it's like going out after mad dogs. it's dangerous, and you don't like it, but you've got to do it." hubert's thoughtful silence admitted the correctness of ted's view. after some minutes without speech the younger boy asked: "ted, what are you thinking about?" "i was thinking that even if the slackers did catch us and take us back to deserters' island, maybe it would be for the best, after all," said ted. "you see, i might make a friend of mr. jenkins--there's something nice about him--and maybe i might get him interested in the war and persuade him to go out----" "well, you are _the limit_!" exclaimed hubert, in disgust. then he turned over, refusing to talk any more, and soon fell asleep. xviii in the early morning they were awakened by the rain falling on their faces, and found their once dry and cosy retreat now thoroughly wet and uncomfortable. not only did water percolate through the hastily constructed palmetto thatch, but, the wind having changed, the rain now beat in from the front. a slow, steady downfall evidently had continued throughout the night. "it's a set-in rain, and we're goin' to have a hard time," hubert complained. it was only with great difficulty and after long effort that they succeeded in building a fire, and by the time the remainder of the turkey, which had been hung out of reach of marauding animals the night before, had been broiled and eaten, it was late in the morning. what to do next was the puzzling question. even the night before ted had been troubled to answer. to turn back might invite an encounter with a pursuing party of slackers, yet the marsh barred further progress, unless the boys were willing to take the risks involved in wading through mud, slime, mosses, rushes, "bonnets," and what not, the water being no doubt over their heads in many places. "let's try it," ted proposed at last. "we are wet to the skin anyhow, and if we can't do it, we can come back here. if we can get across, i don't think it will take us long to find our way out of the swamp." hubert shrank from but agreed to the undertaking, preferring almost anything whatsoever to turning back with the prospect of falling into the hands of a pursuing party of slackers. both boys were good swimmers, but ted thought it unwise to venture on a flooded marsh of unknown depth without some safeguard. as they had no boat and probably would be unable to float a raft, even if one could be constructed, he decided to take with them a section of a tree to which they might cling, in case they should advance beyond their depth and be unable to swim on account of the mosses and sedge crowding the marsh water at so many points. after considerable search ted found a dead cypress which had broken into parts in its fall before a wind storm. a section of this about twelve feet long and about a foot in diameter, was chosen. having provided themselves with light slender poles some ten feet long, and tied the gun and hatchet between two short up-reaching branches of the log, the boys succeeded in launching what ted termed their "life-preserver." while they were accomplishing this task hubert made his first acquaintance with a curiosity of the okefinokee, more noticeable in times past than now along the shores of islands within or bordering the marshes. stepping off from the island shore, hubert walked forward upon a seeming continuation of land--a mass of floating vegetable forms, intermingled with moss, drift and slime, forming a compact floor capable of sustaining his weight, which, although it did not at once break through beneath him, could be seen to sink and rise at every step for several feet around. "why this ground moves!" cried hubert, astonished. "you'd better look out," said ted. "it won't hold you up much longer. it's not ground; it's floating moss and stuff----" he paused, smiling, as hubert broke through and stood in mud and water above his knees. "i heard one of the slackers speak of that moving stuff as 'floating batteries,'" ted added. "uncle walter said the indians, in old times, called it 'okefinokee' or 'trembling earth,' and that was how the swamp got its name." once they had dragged their "life preserver" over the "trembling earth," the boys made better progress, although they still had to contend with a submerged slimy moss of a green color and a great variety of crowding rushes. as they staggered along, dragging the log, now only up to their knees in water, now sinking in the yielding ooze until the water rose above their waists, they were for a time much annoyed by a little black fly or bug haunting the sedge which stung like a mosquito. the clouds still dropped a slow drizzle, and a mist lay upon the great marsh, in which the many little islands, clothed in dun-colored vegetation, loomed up in dim, uncertain outlines. ted remarked that he had heard the slackers call these islets "houses," but that to him they now rather suggested huge phantom ships. many cranes, herons and "poor-jobs" had already risen at their approach; and as they advanced farther out on the marsh, where the water deepened, the sedge began to thin and to be succeeded by "bonnets" or water lilies, large flocks of ducks flew up, and occasionally a curlew skimmed across their course. passing not far from one of the little islands, they noted that it was grown up at the edges with low cassina bushes, and that other vegetation sloped gradually up to two or three tall cypresses in the center, the whole being drearily decorated with long trailing drifts of spanish moss. "it looks like a big circus tent," said hubert. the water still deepened, and soon they were obliged to swim--ted with his left arm thrown over the forward end of the cypress log, and hubert with his right resting on the rear end. a couple of hundred yards or so further on they entered an open and perceptible current flowing almost at right angles to their course. "let's follow this," proposed ted. "it will be so much easier to carry the log." so they swam on, floating their log with the gentle current which flowed narrowly between the bordering "bonnets," little dreaming that they were on the head-waters of the famed suwanee river. how far they traveled, floating on this current, they hardly knew, being unable to see any great distance or keep anything like landmarks in view. as soon as one of the ghostly little islands floated past and disappeared in the mist, another would be outlined in their front, and, all of them being more or less alike, the effect was confusing. they lost count, as it were, of both distance and time. finally hubert protested that he was cold as well as tired and hungry, and demanded that they land on the next "house." ted thought longingly of a rest, too, and as soon as they were opposite another islet, he struck out toward it through the "bonnets" and sedge, forcing the log along with hubert's help. in this way they floated into a round open pool which the mist had concealed from view. ted had no sooner sighted several dark floating objects a short distance ahead than the water about him became curiously agitated, and, with a cry of alarm, he glanced back at hubert. "jump on the log!" he shouted. "we're in a 'gator hole." neither boy could afterward have told how he did it, but almost in a twinkling both stood upright on the log, maintaining a precarious balance by dipping their long sticks in the water, first on one side and then on the other. under their combined weight the log sank so low that it was almost entirely submerged, and this added to the alarm of both when they saw that the pool seemed to be alive with alligators large and small, for a hundred feet around. some of the huge scaly saurians swam about rather lazily, while others lay quiet on the water and gazed at the intruders with their black, lusterless eyes. as yet they exhibited no signs of either fear or anger, and even seemed lacking in curiosity. but it was hubert's first experience with the alligator of florida and southern georgia, which, in his ignorance, he associated with the crocodile of the far east, and the boy was terrified. "they are going to eat us up!" he gasped, after he had tottered, swayed, and very nearly lost his balance beyond recovery. "i don't think they'll do anything to us, if we are careful not to run into them," said ted, reassuringly, though not without some real apprehension of trouble. but this is precisely what happened. hubert's desperate struggles to regain his balance caused the log to depart from the course ted was trying to maintain, and, before it could be prevented, they floated between two motionless alligators, almost touching them, and then the forward end of the log ran aground on the back of a third. there followed a great stir and splashing. hubert went overboard with the first shock, and the powerful flirt of a frightened or enraged alligator's tail sent ted, slightly stunned, into the water three or four feet from the log. both boys swam desperately back to their one refuge, conscious of the plunging of the excited amphibians as they did so, and fearing every moment that an arm or a leg would be bitten off. but when they again stood upright on their log, balancing themselves once more with the long sticks to which they had persisted in clinging, they saw with some measure of relief that the nearest of the alligators now visible were some yards distant. in their stupid astonishment or lazy indifference, the creatures had allowed an easy prey to escape them. with all possible speed, yet cautiously, the boys paddled their log away from the undesirable neighborhood, breathing more freely only after they were out of the pool and well on their way through the sedge toward the "house." "maybe they didn't think we were good to eat," said hubert, wondering, and then joining nervously in ted's merry laugh. "i've heard that they eat animals sometimes, but they live on fish mostly," said ted. "it was lucky, though, that we had the log to get up on." "would they have eaten us if we hadn't had it?" ted laughed again before he answered: "i don't think so, but i shouldn't care to risk it a second time. hunters say alligators don't attack man except in self-defense." "but i've heard of their catching pigs and even little niggers," persisted hubert. "well," admitted ted, still smiling, "you never can tell when such creatures may want a change of diet. that place back there--a breeding place, i think--is like one i heard mr. hardy speak of. he called it an 'alligator heaven.'" "deliver me from an 'alligator heaven,' if that's one," said hubert, so solemnly that ted was amused and laughed once more. entering shallower water, they dared to step into it and wade toward the little island. leaving their log safely lodged on the "trembling earth" formation, and having struggled through and over this, they landed on firm but damp ground. the island was circular in form and hardly two hundred yards in diameter. cassina bushes fringed the shores, the vegetation rising thence to a few tall cypress trees in the center. everywhere the funereal spanish moss fluttered in the gentle breeze. it had now ceased raining, but a dense mist still floated upon the great marsh. the raw atmosphere seemed as cold as the water had been and the boys moved about shivering, bitterly regretting their attempt to cross the flooded wilderness. the wildness and desolation of the scene seemed to be intensified by the presence of two small gray eagles, which screamed in a harsh shrill way as they hovered about a large nest in the top of the tallest tree on the island. their weariness and sharp hunger were the only certain indications of the flight of time, but as the light began to wane the boys realized that they had been on the marsh for hours and had not landed on the island till late in the afternoon. it was now necessary to make some sort of preparation for the night, and that speedily. an attempt to build a fire had failed, the wet matches refusing even to ignite, and as the gun was also wet and the shells soaked, there appeared to be no hope of obtaining even the raw flesh of a bird for supper, supposing they could have eaten it. tears appeared in shivering hubert's eyes and rolled slowly down his cheeks, seeing which ted smiled and tried hard to make merry with a little jest. "now, hu, we've had enough water for one day without pumping up any more," he said, patting his cousin affectionately on the shoulder. "well, you know," said hubert, trying to smile in response, "i never did have a good grip on my what-you-may-call-'em ducts, and this is pretty tough, as you know. i really am trying hard to stand it and not be a baby. i'm glad we didn't have such a dose as this the first day in the swamp--i'd have boo-hooed sure enough. i'm not quite the baby that i was." "no, you are not, hu; you are getting to be quite a man," said ted gently, and hubert, struggling hard to sit on the lid of his lachrymal ducts, so to speak, was very grateful. a few moments later he smilingly announced that he had succeeded in "turning off the water," but he feared that he had spoken too soon when suddenly ted, moving about, very nearly stepped on a large moccasin and found some difficulty in killing it with his long stick. hubert suffered from an instinctive horror of snakes and the episode almost upset him. ted had heard the slackers describe how they made shift for the night when they had to camp out on a marsh island or on a damp tussock in the flooded forests, and he now proceeded to strip bark off the cypress trees with the aid of the hatchet. this was spread on the ground under quantities of spanish moss which was to be used as both bed and covering. the moss was damp, water-soaked, in fact; but even so they would be warmer covered with it than if they lay exposed to the currents of raw air. by the time these preparations were completed it was dark. ted thought they ought to remain awake and keep more or less active all night, in order to stave off severe colds; but they were both too exhausted to persevere in such efforts. seated on the cushioned cypress bark, and leaning their backs against a tree, the wet moss drawn up over them, they soon subsided into quiet of limb and tongue, and after a long while fell into troubled, dream-haunted slumber. "we'll never get home," moaned hubert, breaking down at last, while still they talked, sitting there in the thick darkness. ted made no reply at once. he was thinking how different had been the experience of the heroes of romance wrecked on unknown islands or lost in desolate places. none of these, so far as he could remember, had ever suffered such continuing miseries of body and mind as he and hubert had to endure; there always seemed to be a wreck at hand with plenty of good things on board to eat, and the castaways could at least manage to sleep warm and dry. "we are going to starve to death in this swamp," moaned hubert. "not a bit of it," said ted with forced cheerfulness, cutting off abruptly his own complaining train of thought. "now, hu, you are not really giving up, i know; you only think you are," he continued, leaning affectionately against his cousin. "brace up like the man you really are. just think how much better off we are than some people. think of our soldiers in the trenches at night in bad weather. in some ways we are as uncomfortable, but think how much safer we are. there are no germans to sneak poison-gas over on us in the dark." "there are no germans, but there are moccasins," said hubert dolefully. "i'll just bet that was the only one on this island," ted declared stoutly, although he feared there were at least a dozen. "don't think about them. think of what we are going to do tomorrow, and we are going to get out of this swamp--or pretty nearly. things come out all right after a while; i never saw it fail. you know, hu, i like to think of the grand pluck of old socrates--i've heard uncle walter quote him--when he said: 'no evil can befall a good man, whether he be alive or dead.' that means, if we are truthful and manly, and harm nobody, and do our best, we're all right, or going to be all right, whatever happens. and you and i are goin' to be all right soon, too. you'll see." whether it was the result of this comforting philosophy or sheer physical exhaustion, hubert became quiet and soon fell asleep. but it was long before poor ted, sitting alone in the dark, could do for himself what he had so manfully done for his cousin. if a discerning eye had looked down through the night, helplessness, even despair, would have been seen in his face. and then, all at once, somehow help came to ted, too; his courage returned, and with it a certain restfulness of body which presently brought sleep. xix as the first gray light of morning struggled through the mist still enveloping the marsh, ted started up and looked about him. his attention was at once attracted to a white sand-hill crane fully five feet in height standing on a point of the little island about fifty yards distant. seizing his long stick, the boy crept toward the fowl behind the screen offered by the cassina bushes. he hoped to knock it down, thinking that even the fishy flesh of a crane would be found palatable by two half-starved boys. but the wary bird spread wide its wings and flew away in the mist long before ted was near enough to use his weapon. he smiled faintly as he faced his failure, calling to mind the story told him when a very little boy that he could catch any bird in existence if he could get near enough to put salt on its tail. he remembered at least one unsuccessful attempt to catch a mocking-bird by such means, before he appreciated the joke, and reflected that it would be about as easy to salt a crane's tail as to creep up near enough to knock it down with a stick. both ted and hubert found themselves suffering with sore throat and their limbs were numb and cold; but they felt more or less rested and their hunger was less sharp than on the night before. on the whole, they felt better, and were eager to go forward in the hope of improving their condition. ted said that if they could see the island they had left the day before, he would favor going straight back there; but that if they attempted to return in the fog, there were a thousand chances to one that they would go astray, and he therefore thought that they had better take the risk of pushing forward. hubert agreed, preferring to leave the decision to his more experienced cousin in any case. so they struggled through the "trembling" and breaking "earth" surrounding the little island, got their log afloat, pushed it out into the little stream, and swam with the slow current as on the day before. although their exertions soon began to tell on them, weakened for lack of food as they were, they pushed forward heroically for hours, landing to rest two or three times on the dreary and inhospitable "houses." toward mid-afternoon, while swimming with one arm over the rear end of the log, hubert's feet became entangled in the rushes; and, losing his hold on the log, he was drawn beneath the water just as a faint cry escaped him. ted looked back in time to see him go down, and, swimming to his aid, succeeded in extricating him after he had swallowed several gulps of water and was partially strangled. meanwhile the log had floated with the current and lodged among the "bonnets" nearly two hundred yards down stream. this distance ted was obliged to swim without artificial aid, meanwhile supporting hubert, who was almost helpless. the last few yards was the scene of a desperate struggle to keep above water until the log could be grasped. after resting on their log until somewhat revived, they painfully made their way to the nearest "house," realizing that they could travel no further that day. indeed, ted secretly feared that they might never be able to leave the island without help, so feverish and exhausted had both he and hubert become. the first thing he did after landing and resting, therefore, was to tie his handkerchief to one end of his long stick and thrust the other end into the soft ground in an open spot, hoping thus to attract the attention of any boat that might pass the neighborhood. that night was even more trying and uncomfortable than the preceding. they were again unable to start a fire, and lay down as before on cypress bark and damp moss, the hunger that gnawed them becoming more and more hard to endure. though he made a brave effort, ted found himself unable to appear to be as cheerfully optimistic as on the night before. in his feverishness and misery words often failed him, but he unselfishly maintained an attitude of tenderness and sympathy toward hubert whose lachrymal ducts knew no restraint and discharged their entire store of tears. "never mind, we'll get out of this to-morrow," promised ted in his gentlest voice, over and over; but, struggle as he might, there was lack of genuine hopefulness in his tone. the morning of the third day dawned bright and clear. not a vestige of the fog was to be seen anywhere on the great marsh. although now really ill, their heads throbbing with fever and pain, the boys felt cheered by this change. in every direction except one they were unable to see anything but an expanse of marsh dotted with "houses"; but in that one direction they clearly discerned, not more than two or three miles away, a wall of green pines, indicating either the mainland or a large island. with great satisfaction they noted also that the intervening marsh, though covered with water at points, was not of a character to necessitate swimming. hopeful once more, they started eagerly toward the green wall of pines, soon finding, however, that it was no easy matter to cross this portion of the marsh, scantily covered with water though it was. much of it was treacherous quagmire, and the boys sometimes sank down suddenly in the mud to their armpits. once hubert sank up to his neck, and nothing but his long stick saved him. they had left their log behind, but fortunately carried their long poles. it was near noon when they at length reached the high land where the pine trees grew. after plunging into a neighboring pool of comparatively clear water in order to wash the mud and slime from their bodies and clothing, the boys climbed wearily up the slope and lay down in the warm sunshine, shading their faces with palmetto leaves. here they rested several hours, for the most part in troubled, feverish slumber. rousing himself at last, ted coaxed hubert to his feet, and again they pushed forward wearily. the vegetation of the island, if island it were, was found to be unusually dense and wild. after gaining the crest of the slope, where, on the other islands, a comparatively open pine ridge was usually found, they were confronted by the brambles of the jungle and immense thickets of blackjack or scrub-oak. an hour later they emerged upon an open pine barren, where the underbrush consisted chiefly of tyty, hemleaf and fan-palmetto. here progress was easier, but now hubert fell rather than sat upon the grass, declaring that he could go no further. "i feel as if my head would burst," he said, staring about him stupidly. after trying in vain to encourage him to further effort, ted, who really felt no better, decided to push on alone. "you stay here and rest, hu," he said, "while i look around for a good place to camp. the matches are dry now and i think we can have a fire to-night." it was now late in the afternoon and ted realized that he must exert himself. pushing forward, he chanced upon something like a trail, followed it for nearly a mile, and, just as the sun sank out of sight, he stole guardedly through an oak thicket, halted on its borders, and looked into an open space where a camp fire burned. everywhere in the little clearing there were evidences of a long sojourn. the stumps of several trees showed that the felling had been done months, perhaps a year or more, before. curing hides hung against the trees; tools and cooking utensils lay about on the grass. a pot swung over the fire from a tripod of three long sticks, and in it there evidently simmered a savory stew. no dog was aroused by ted's approach, and the boy looked long, without interruption, at everything, including the sole occupant of the clearing, an old man with a long white beard who sat on the ground near the fire, his back to the observer. ted turned quietly, retraced his steps through the thicket, and hurried back over the trail. "oh, hubert," he cried, as soon as he was within speaking distance, "i've found a camp and an old man cooking supper!" but the younger boy merely looked up stupidly and spoke of his aching head. resolutely employing all his remaining strength, ted lifted hubert to his feet, and, with his arm around him, coaxing and dragging, he forced him slowly along the trail toward the stranger's camp. arrived within the fire-lighted circle just after night had fallen, he allowed hubert to collapse upon the grass, and then, holding out appealing hands, he cried: "help us--please help us!" the old man started up in amazement and, judging from the expression of his face, even alarm. he appeared not to have heard the approaching footsteps because of deafness, and now seemed to expect a further invasion of the privacy of his camp. "who're you?" he asked in a bewildered way. "whur in the dickance did you boys come from?" ted did not answer. his remaining strength failed him, and he dropped upon the grass by hubert's side, but his eyes still appealed. "are you sick?" "starving," answered ted, hardly above a whisper. a wave of compassion swept over the old man. he almost leaped to the fire; and, quickly dipping something from the pot into a tin cup, he blew his breath upon it several times in order to cool it, then hurried back to the prostrate boys, knelt beside them, and offered the cup to ted. but the boy gently pushed it away and motioned toward his cousin, indicating that hubert was in the greater need and should be attended to first. having partaken of the nourishment which presently was offered him in turn, ted fell asleep, or fainted--he could not afterward tell which--and there followed a blank. when he again opened his eyes and looked about him, he lay on a bed of moss covered with blankets in what was evidently a log cabin of one large room. in a few moments the door, which stood ajar, was thrown wide, and the old man of the long white beard entered the room, a cheerful expression appearing on his kindly face as he met the boy's eye. "you feel better now, i reckon," he said, seating himself on a pile of moss near ted's bed. "where am i?" the boy's voice was weak but eager. "in my house," was the reassuring reply. "you've been pretty bad off--sort o' wanderin' in yer mind. but you're all right now." "where's hubert?" the boy's voice was now stronger, but indicated anxiety. "he's outside. he got up and went out this mornin'. he's all right. he had fever from cold and exposure, but you was the sickest of the two. you've been on a harder strain, i reckon." "how long have i been here?" "three days. i was afraid it was goin' to be typhoid, but it was jes' a nervous fever from starvation and so much exposure. it was mighty high, though, for a while. t'other boy tole me how you-all's been lost and a-wanderin' in the swamp. you boys sure has seen sights." "are we out of the swamp at last?" asked ted eagerly. "not by a long jump. you're on blackjack, one o' the biggest islands." noting the boy's sigh of disappointment, the old man added: "but don't worry. you lay quiet till to-morrow, and then i'll tell you more about it, and show you the way out o' the swamp." "oh, thank you. you are very kind." with such a prospect in view, it would be easy to lie quiet until the morrow, it being now late in the afternoon. ted wanted to ask many questions, but he submitted when his host bade him be quiet and withdrew. a few minutes later hubert entered, with a smile on his face, and the boys congratulated each other. "i think we are safe at last," said ted, relaxing on his bed and beginning really to rest. "yes, i think we are," said hubert. "that mr. george smith is very kind, though he is a queer old duck. he looks just like a ram-goat with that long beard running down into a point. he's been camping and trapping here for years. i was afraid to tell him that we had been kept prisoners on deserters' island. i haven't said a thing about the slackers." "perhaps that was just as well," said ted, dreamily, and soon fell asleep. an hour or more later his eyes filled with tears of gratitude as his elderly host brought in a delicious quail stew for his supper. "to-morrow," the old man promised, "i'll show you how i shoots them partridges." ted knew that he should have said quail instead of partridges, but was too polite to correct him. "do you think we could start out to-morrow?" asked the boy, after he had eaten and thanked his host. "better wait a little longer. it'll be a long pull and you ought to be rested up," advised the old man. "hubert says you want to git to judge ridgway's. i know where that is. we kin boat it a piece o' the way and then tramp it till i put you on the trail. you strike the trail on a big peninsula runnin' in the swamp. then all you got to do is to follow that trail about ten miles till you git to your uncle's neighborhood." all ted's anxieties dropped from him as he listened. home had not seemed so near since the day he and hubert were lost in the swamp, and when he fell asleep he dreamed that he was actually there. xx in the morning, feeling well and strong, ted rose early and followed hubert out of the cabin to the camp fire. there their attention was attracted to two large fox-squirrels lying on the grass. "i shot 'em befo' you waked up," said their host, who was busily preparing the morning meal. "the woods is chock full of 'em." both boys ate a hearty breakfast, after which ted felt so fully restored that he declared he was ready for the hardest kind of a tramp. but he was again advised to wait till the following morning. the boys spent the day talking with their new friend, gathering young "greens" from his little vegetable garden, giving some help toward the preparation of the meals, and lying about on the grass and sleeping. ted took great interest in a bow belonging to and manufactured by the old trapper, considering himself highly favored on being allowed to shoot away two or three arrows, which latter he diligently searched for and returned to their owner. both bow and arrows were made of ash, the latter being tipped with sharpened bits of steel. the bow-string was made of tough gut of the wild-cat. "you-all come go with me now, if you want to see some fun," said mr. smith at sundown. he then took bow and arrows and led the boys about a quarter of a mile away in the woods, telling them he would show them how "partridges" (quail) roosted at night. when the place was reached twilight had fallen, but a dozen or more of the birds were distinctly seen squatting near each other in the wiregrass. "now watch me bag 'em," said the old trapper; and, lifting his bow, he bent it almost double, the string twanged, and the arrow sped on its way. again and again the bow twanged, and in amazement the boys began to see, as they did not at first, that each flying arrow cut off the head of a quail. the neighboring birds looked startled, turning their heads from side to side as if striving to pierce the gathering gloom, but there was no noisy plunge of the remainder of the covey until the old man had shot as often as he wished and stepped forward to gather up his arrows and the slain. "you see, i shoots 'm in the head to keep from sp'ilin' the meat," he smilingly explained. "what a fine shot you are!" exclaimed both boys in a breath. "i could never do that in the world," said ted. "it took me years to learn that trick, but i learned it, and you could, too, if you tried hard," the old trapper said, generous in his pardonable pride. as they sat about the fire after supper the subject of the war came up. the trapper asked for news and ted outlined the general situation as he had understood it before the swamp misadventure cut him off from sources of information. "if i was young enough i'd be in it," declared their host, much to ted's satisfaction, going on to say that the civil war was over before he was quite old enough and that the spanish-american war was over almost before he heard of it, for he was in the okefinokee that very year. "and now i'm too old to be a soldier," he concluded, with a smile and a sigh. "i've heard my uncle walter say that 'the will is almost as good as the deed,'" remarked ted politely. "from all i hear them germans is a mighty bad crowd, and they need the worst thrashin' any lot of people ever got," the trapper continued. "and the young men o' this country ought to see that they git it good and heavy. but some of 'em ain't goin' about it right. some of 'em is kickin' about the draft, and some of 'em is scared to death; and they tell me some of 'em is _hidin' out_." the old man spat in his disgust. the boys became alert, perceiving that he had knowledge of and was thinking of the camp of slackers on deserters' island. they looked at each other significantly and waited for him to go on. "but it ain't _my_ business to see that the sheriff is on his job," continued old george smith, stroking his long beard. "i'm a old man, and i got to live in peace, 'speshly these days when there's young men without a particle of respect for gray hairs. i 'tends to my own business." "my uncle said he heard that there were some slackers hiding in this swamp," said ted, cautiously and invitingly. "mebby so; the oke-fi-noke's a big place," responded the old man, after a moment of perceptible hesitation. "i don't see," he quickly added, "why there's all this kickin' about the draft. they drafted 'em 'way back in the sixties, south and north, too. we got to have it that way." "my uncle says it's the fairest as well as the quickest plan." "ther must be more chicken-hearted young men now than ther was in my young days," remarked mr. smith. he fell into a thoughtful silence, from which he roused himself suddenly, saying: "well, let's go to bed. got to git up bright and early in the mornin'." it was evident that he did not intend to speak openly of deserters' island. the boys were no less inclined to be cautious, not knowing what his personal relations with the slackers might be. after an exchange of significant glances, they tacitly agreed to keep silent also, at least for the present. it troubled ted to think that an honest, patriotic man, such as their host appeared to be, should place his "peace" above his duty to inform against the hiding slackers, but he took comfort in the thought that the fugitives from the draft would not long be left in quiet possession of deserters' island. "mr. smith won't tell on 'em," he whispered to hubert after they had gone to bed, "but just wait till we get home. uncle walter will have the sheriff starting into this swamp in a day's time." when a woodpecker, boring loudly into the cabin's roof, roused him next morning, ted saw that the sun was shining, realized that he had overslept, and wondered why he had not been called. hearing voices outside, he conjectured that the old trapper had been delayed by the arrival of visitors. but what visitors? the boy thought instantly of deserters' island, which was undoubtedly the nearest inhabited area within many miles. in sudden fear, he checked the noisy movements he was making. then, listening intently, he heard the unmistakable voice of sweet jackson! creeping to the front wall, ted peeped out through a crack between the logs, and at once his eyes confirmed the evidence presented by his ears. sweet jackson and mitch' jenkins, their guns across their knees, were seated near the camp fire eating the breakfast the old trapper was serving them. "we wanted to make yo' camp last night," jackson was saying, "but we was too fur. when we made it up to come over this-a way, i thought i'd bring a hide to trade for some plug-tobacco." "well, i'll trade," said old mr. smith, with his usual good-natured manner. ted bounded softly back to the bed and, bending down, shook hubert. "quit pushin' me," complained hubert, still half asleep. "hush!" whispered ted warningly. "look at me! listen, and don't make a noise. some of the _slackers_ are out there!" hubert's rebelliousness disappeared on the instant, and he stared at his cousin in silent fright. then he, too, heard jackson's voice, whereupon he started up, looking wildly about, as if for some means of escape. without waiting to say more ted hurried back to his peep-hole. "can't we slip out and run?" whispered hubert as soon as he reached ted's side. "how can we? there's no window on the back and they are facing this way. they'd see us. we've got to stay right here till they go away, or till we get a chance to slip out." "but what if they should come in here?" suggested hubert. "we'll have to risk it." the breakfast was now over, and the two slackers rose to their feet. a few moments later the excited boys took note that all three of the men stood with their backs to the cabin door. "now's our chance," whispered hubert. "let's slip out, sneak round the house and run off." "we'd better wait, i think," said ted. "they might turn round on us before we----" the boy stopped suddenly, for now the old trapper and jackson turned, the latter saying: "well, bring out your tobacco." the former moved toward the cabin accordingly. "let's lie down and pretend to be asleep, so they won't hear him speak to us," hurriedly proposed ted. when the trapper stepped into the room the slumber of the two boys appeared to be profound. he looked at them, smiled, and, as if deciding not to call them till later, went about the business of the moment, bending down over a large covered box with his back to them. noting all this, ted congratulated himself upon the success of his plan. it did not occur to him that curiosity might bring jenkins into the cabin, or that the officious jackson might wish to see for himself how large a store of tobacco the cabin contained. so when a heavy tread was heard at the door, the boy faced the unforeseen as well as the affrighting. there was now nothing left for him and hubert to do but cover their faces with their blankets and lie still, which they did, fearing that the very beating of their hearts would be heard. the less curious jenkins might have overlooked them, in the subdued light of the interior, but jackson's roving eyes alighted on their outlined figures almost at once. "who-all's this?" he asked sharply. "i see you got comp'ny." "jes' two boys that got lost huntin' in the swamp," answered the old man quietly. "i kep' 'em a day or two to rest up. they had a hard time and was real sick." "_two boys?_" echoed sweet jackson, in tones of keen expectancy; and, stepping across the intervening space, he roughly tore away the coverings and exposed to view the shrinking boys. for a moment hubert seemed about to obey an impulse to hide his face in the moss of the bed, but ted rose promptly and faced jackson with a steady, watchful gaze. "so you come over this-a way, did you?" cried jackson, with a triumphant grin. "wasn't it lucky that i come, too, just in time!" he sneered. "why, do you know them boys?" asked the old swamp-squatter, turning, in great surprise. "_know_ 'em? they belongs to our camp," declared jackson. "i want more than yo' tobacco, old man; i want them boys." "we _don't_ belong to their camp," cried ted, his voice unsteady, addressing the old man. "we only found our way there when we got lost, and then they wouldn't let us go because they were afraid we'd tell on them." "why didn't you tell me before?" asked the old man, greatly troubled. "i wish i had," said ted. "we waited to tell you and then--then--we thought, maybe, we'd better not." "he's lyin'," said jackson glibly. "he was scared to tell you they'd run away from where they belonged." jenkins turned upon jackson with an indignant manner, but hesitated, and seemed to decide to keep silent. noting this with discouragement, ted checked an angry response to the insult and turned again to the old man: "everything i have told you is the truth. won't you stand by us?" the old swamp-squatter looked sharply from man to boy and back again, his expression indicating great disturbance of mind. "if you are a-takin' them boys without the right to do it," he said, "you may have _double_ trouble on yer hands befo' long." "that's _my_ business, and you'd better 'tend to your'n--if you know what's good for you!" there was menace in jackson's tone. the old man surrendered the plugs of tobacco with a trembling hand, then took a step toward ted. "you see, the trouble is," he said, rather pitifully, "that i can't take the word of two boys agin the word of two men. if they claims you, i can't stop 'em. but i'm awful sorry because i've thought a heap o' you boys." "thank you," said ted huskily, comprehending the old swamp-squatter's helplessness, and moved to make a polite acknowledgment of the compliment even at such a moment. "will you go peaceable, or do you want a whippin'?" demanded jackson. "better go peaceable," advised the old man, speaking gently. ted turned and exchanged glances with hubert. they read in each other's eyes the conviction that there was nothing to be done but yield for the time, and that it was better to yield without a struggle than to suffer intolerable indignities and brutal usage. after swallowing hard, like one taking a bitter dose, ted announced in a low voice that they were ready to go. "come on, then, and be quick about it," ordered jackson, striding out of the cabin. jenkins and the boys followed. the old man lingered in the doorway, looking very sorrowful. as the party was crossing the clearing to take the trail through the woods, ted suddenly announced that he would have to "thank mr. smith for his hospitality," and, before he could be hindered, ran back to the door of the cabin. jackson and jenkins halted, turning to look on curiously as the boy performed this social duty. "you've been very kind, mr. smith, and we thank you very much," said ted, loudly enough for all to hear. then, with his back to the slackers, he added in a low voice: "there's _one_ thing you can do to help us. you know where judge ridgway lives and----" "that's all right, ted, honey," the old man loudly interrupted. "you sure are welcome to what little i did for you boys." this speech was accompanied by three distinct pressures of ted's hand which seemed satisfactorily significant. the old man then turned to shake hands with hubert, who had been permitted to follow ted. "when are you goin' out again, mr. smith?" called out jackson. "i think it'll be some while," was the answer. but when the old swamp-squatter was left alone in his clearing, his activities seemed to show that he had suddenly changed his mind. "what's to keep that old man from goin' out and tellin' on our whole crowd?" asked jenkins, as soon as they were out of hearing. "he's scared o' me--that's what," was the confident answer. jackson halted as he spoke, took some heavy string out of his pocket, and, suddenly seizing ted from behind, began to tie his hands. protesting in hot indignation, the boy struggled so fiercely that jenkins was called on for help. "not on your life," said jenkins, standing apart. "i won't touch him. i ain't a party to this thing. _you_ are takin' them boys, not me. i'm jes' walkin' long with you. you don't need to tie 'em anyhow. if they was to cut and run, you could easy catch one, and the other wouldn't stay off by himself." but jackson persisted. checking ted's resistance with violent language and ugly threats, he had his will, then served the protesting but unresisting hubert in the same way. "i know my business, mitch' jenkins," he said. "they ain't a-goin' to give me the slip this time." then followed a tramp of about two miles to the point of the island where the slackers had left their bateau. much of the route was covered with dense thicket and bramble-infested jungle, and the boys suffered. sometimes, when they stumbled and fell, or pushed through thorny brush, being unable to use their arms and hands, they received painful scratches or blows on face or head. finally ted rebelled, throwing himself down and persisting doggedly at all threatened costs. "i won't go another step until you untie our hands," he declared, setting his teeth. "you can beat me if you are devil enough," he informed jackson, with blazing eyes and unflinching calm, "but i won't budge." jackson swore furiously and lifted his foot to kick, but was checked by jenkins, who said: "and if you beat him, you may have to beat me." then the two men glared at and paid their respects to each other in unprintable language. hubert hoped that they would fight hard and long, and that in the midst of it he and ted might run away; but, as usual, the cowardice beneath sweet jackson's bullying exterior showed itself. he discharged much violent language, but prudently declined the contest of physical strength offered by jenkins. "what did you come in this swamp for, anyhow?" he demanded. "you ain't worth a cent." "you kin find out what i'm worth if you want to," goaded jenkins. "oh, shucks!" cried jackson, with a show of vast disgust; and taking out his knife, he cut both ted's and hubert's bonds, intimating that he washed his hands of the consequences. after that peace was restored, the tramp was resumed, and more rapid progress was made. xxi they landed on deserters' island late in the afternoon. the news of their arrival appeared to reach the camp ahead of the captive boys, for as soon as they followed the upward path through the swamp-cane to the outskirts of the familiar clearing they saw july running to meet them. the negro's smiling expressions of delight at sight of them were checked by his recollection that they were returning to captivity. "i sho is sorry dey cotch you if i is glad to see you," he apologized. "but, cap'n ted, you won't have such a hard time dis time 'cause de gen'l'mens is got back an' now de dawgs'll have to keep dey place." ted did not wait for an explanation of this mysterious announcement, for he now saw buck hardy standing near the sleeping-loft and ran eagerly toward him. "oh, mr. hardy," he cried, in enormous relief and satisfaction, "i'm _so_ glad to see you. we've had a terrible time since you left. i--i--i hope your mother is better." buck smiled down on the delighted boy, warmly clasping his hand. "she's all right now, thank you, kid," he said. "sorry i had to stay outside so long. just got back two hours ago--with peters and jones. so you've had a terrible time, eh? july has been tellin' me, but he don't know it all, and i want to know it all up to this minute. did sweet jackson do anything to you after he caught you? did he--whip you--or----" "he would have, if it hadn't been for mr. jenkins." "tell me all about it." after walking into the clearing attended by the pleased and garrulous negro, hubert shook hands with al peters and bud jones, but awaited his turn to speak to buck hardy, not wishing to interrupt the big slacker's earnest conversation with ted. as he looked around, hubert saw billy seated a short distance away and wondered why he seemed to take no interest in their arrival. judging from past experience, he would have expected the half-wit not only to be pleased but even to caper around him and ted, giggling and shouting his expressions of gratification. but now billy seemed to be intently contemplating some object in the grass at his feet and to be oblivious of everything else. the news of the return of hardy, peters and jones evidently reached jackson before he came up from the landing, for when he appeared he had a conscious and depressed air. he spoke a perfunctory greeting to peters and jones and then, as he busied himself about the camp, his roving glance frequently returned in a stealthy sort of way to buck hardy where he stood questioning and listening to ted. his manner was expectant and he probably was not surprised when buck, turning from the boy toward the groups near the fire, called out: "sweet jackson!" jackson pretended not to hear and sought to delay the coming reckoning. "billy! you billy," he called sharply, "go bring me some fresh water." the absorbed billy looked up for a moment with an air of one rudely awakened from a dream, but he did not move and his eyes promptly returned to the object in the grass that seemed to fascinate him. "don't you hear me?" shouted jackson. "don't you hear _me_?" shouted buck. "sweet jackson, step out h-yuh and take yo' whippin'." jackson could pretend inattention no longer. planning to force the other men to interfere while storming at billy, he now whipped a revolver out of his pocket and wheeled round. "drop it," ordered buck. "i've got you covered. i expected this and i was ready." two men rushed to jackson's side, he permitted zack james to take his weapon, and moved a step or two forward. then buck took his hand from the revolver in his coat pocket. "what i done to you, buck hardy?" demanded jackson with as blustering an air as he could support. "nothin'," answered buck. "you know better'n to do anything to _me_. it's what you've done to two helpless boys when i was gone. _you_ know what i'm talkin' about. i can be sorry for a natural-born coward. if i saw you runnin' from the draft officers and hollerin' that you wished you was a baby and a _gal_ baby at that, i'd be sorry for you. but i can't stand a man that's a coward underneath and a bully on top whenever he thinks there's nobody to stop him. i whipped you once for beatin' on that po' weak-minded billy. this time it's for what you did to two as nice boys as there ever was. i'd whip you for it if every man in this camp stood behind you. but there ain't nobody to stand behind you because they all despise you." this withering speech and his fear of certain punishment combined caused jackson's lip to twitch nervously. he doubled his fists and prepared to ward off the coming blows, determining to strike back at the outset in order to lessen his disgrace by a stubborn show of fight. but, try to stand his ground as he might, he found himself retreating backward before his advancing enemy. before hardy had arrived within striking distance jackson had backed into billy and trodden upon the half-wit's outstretched legs. "git out o' my way!" stormed the retreating man, glad to divert attention from himself. billy sprang up and jumped out of reach, as if believing that he had been attacked. then he faced his supposed foe, a strange glow in his eyes. suddenly sweet jackson became aware that he was treading upon some soft living body, which yielded beneath his weight and struggled in a peculiar, writhing way. as his glance swept downward, he heard a harsh rattling sound and saw that he stood upon a large coiled snake. the look of mortal terror on his face and his gasp of horror caused buck hardy to stop in his tracks, and several of the on-lookers to start forward, just as the rattler struck the unfortunate man on the right leg above the ankle. with a wild cry jackson jumped--too late! [illustration: with a wild cry jackson jumped--too late!] a laugh at such a moment was the most unexpected and shocking thing in the world, and for the moment it drew every eye to billy, who, giggling, cried out: "that's right, son! give it to him, son!" then ted and hubert and july comprehended what had happened before jackson, in an agony of alarm, staggered out into the open, crying that he had been bitten by a rattlesnake and calling for help. "i'm mighty glad i hadn't hit him," murmured buck hardy, as he joined those who, grabbing sticks and guns, started in pursuit of the snake which was now rapidly crawling away. the rattler was quickly overtaken and killed, greatly to the indignation and sorrow of billy. then the attention of all was centered upon jackson, who now sat with his back against a tree, tearing off shoe and sock in a hurried, terrified way, groaning aloud and shuddering in horror. the wound, when exposed, was seen to be swelling already. "if anybody's got any whisky, for god's sake bring it out," shouted buck hardy. he looked from one face to another, as heads were shaken, several reminding him that they were in a prohibition state. only jim carter admitted that he had "just a smodgykin" saved up for a time of need. he ran to the sleeping-loft and returned with a flask containing less than half a pint of colorless whisky. this was forthwith poured down jackson's throat. meanwhile zack james and mitch' jenkins had drawn stout cords as tightly as possible round the leg above and below the wound, with a view to check the circulation of poisoned blood. this done, large portions of the raw quivering flesh of a turkey just killed were pressed hard, one after another, upon the wound itself, these supposedly acting as an absorbent. one of the men suggested that the raw flesh of the rattler be applied in lieu of the turkey, mentioning a story he had heard to the effect that the best results could be thus obtained; but the poisoned man shuddered and refused to permit this. he called pitifully for "a doctor," and the men about him only looked at each other helplessly, the nearest physician being many miles too far away to be sent for and brought through the swamp's difficulties in time to be of any service. there seemed to be nothing further to do but to continue to apply raw flesh to the wound. by the time july announced supper, which nobody could eat, jackson's leg was startlingly swollen and an hour or two later he had begun to wander in his mind. meanwhile, hubert had related to buck hardy and several other listeners how he had one day been invited to visit the rattlesnake at its hole; how billy had fed it, and seemed to be on the friendliest terms with it. ted and july having confirmed hubert's story, it became clear to everyone that billy had brought the snake into the camp and was playing with it when the retreating jackson stepped upon it. nobody forgot that jackson was of an ugly temper and had harshly used the half-witted boy whom he had brought into the swamp and who was said to be his cousin; but none the less was billy now looked upon with suspicion and aversion, and by common consent he was shut up in the prison-pen that had been built for july. rafe wheeler gave expression to the general sentiment when he said: "we don't want no sich walkin' free aroun' this camp. fust thing we know he'll be tolin' up another rattlesnake to bite some of us." as the poisoned man grew steadily worse and the inevitable issue had to be faced, buck hardy called peters, jones, jenkins and james into consultation. "he won't last through the night," said buck in low tones, "and i reckon we'll have to bury him right h-yuh. he'd spoil before we could git him out. what do you say, men?" all agreed that this was the only thing to be done, zack james adding: "and 'sides that them that undertook to tote him out would run a turrible risk of goin' to jail for dodgin' the draft." "another thing," said buck: "there's that po' fool billy. he ought to go to his people, and i know you all want to get rid o' him. what had we better do about that?" "rafe wheeler is goin' out for salt in the mornin'," said zack james. "maybe we could git him to take him." this suggestion was approved, wheeler was approached; and, though he objected, saying that he was afraid to lie down in the woods with "a crazy snake-charmer," a collection of contributed quarters and dimes offered as a substantial reward, induced him to undertake the disagreeable task. shortly after midnight sweet jackson drew his last breath, after his physical anguish had been mercifully dulled by delirium. then a hush fell on the camp. ted and hubert retired to the sleeping-loft, but all the men sat about the fire until break of day. straightening the limbs and covering the face of the dead, they sat about a freshened fire, speaking little and thinking much. young men who had scarcely reflected seriously in all their lives did so now. some of them feared the blow that had fallen was a judgment not only upon jackson but upon the slacker camp in general, and more than one troubled mind wrestled with the question as to whether to turn from a selfish and cowardly course and go where duty called. awakening rather late in the morning, ted and hubert heard the sound of carpenter's tools and, descending from the sleeping-loft, they saw two of the slackers engaged in the construction of a rough coffin. later they learned that others were digging a grave several hundred yards out in the pine woods. as july was giving them their breakfast, they also heard with relief that wheeler had "gone out," and that poor billy had been persuaded to accompany him. an hour later the body was placed in the coffin and four men bore it to the grave, where the whole camp assembled. when the boys reached the spot buck hardy softly called ted to come to him where he stood in consultation with several of the slackers. "we ain't got no preacher nor no bible," he said to the boy, "and we've agreed that the least we can do is to stand round the grave and every man say what he can remember of the prayers he used to say. we don't have to say 'em out loud if we don't want to." there was a slight pause, and then buck rather awkwardly added: "kid, i was thinkin' that, as you are the speaker in this camp, maybe you could remember some o' them pieces out o' the bible they say at funerals, and----" "oh, mr. hardy, i'm afraid i can't," gasped ted, appalled by the solemn responsibility thus placed upon him. "you can do it, kid," urged buck. "don't be scared. nobody will crack a smile, and we'll all think you're just great," as ted still hesitated, buck said further: "if you can remember any o' them bible pieces, i think sweet's folks would be glad if you said 'em." "well--i'll try--to remember some," said the shrinking boy, unable to resist this last appeal, "and--and--i'll do my best." "good for you," said buck, putting an affectionate hand on ted's shoulder. then he turned, gave the awaited signal, and all present formed a circle round the grave. then, with bent and uncovered heads, practically every one repeated in whispers the whole of known or fragments of long-forgotten prayers. as soon as the last man to do this looked up, thus signifying that he had finished, buck stood a little forward with ted, his hand on the boy's shoulder. then ted, in a voice at first low and trembling but gradually strengthening, his eyes fixed upon the coffin, repeated: "jesus said, i am the resurrection and the life. he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.... blessed are the dead who die in the lord; they rest from their labors, and their works do follow them.... earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust...." the boy hesitated and, turning to buck whispered anxiously: "i--i don't think i can remember any more." "that'll do fine," whispered buck, then announced aloud: "now we'll bury him." xxii after the slackers had spent the afternoon in heavy sleep and eaten a hearty supper, the atmosphere of gloom was partially lifted from the camp; but the thoughts of all were still busier than their tongues as they sat and smoked about the fire. though conversation lagged, nobody was sleepy, and all lingered, lounging on the grass until ted suddenly rose to his feet and asked if he might say a few words. "i am only a boy," he said, "and a boy is not expected to talk to men, but there are a few things i want _so much_ to say, and i hope you will let me." "go ahead, kid," said buck hardy. al peters and bud jones added their permission, the others remaining silent. all stared at the boy, giving him close attention. instead of shrinking before the steady gaze of so many eyes, he felt inspired thereby. it had been so ever since he was first given declamation exercises at school. always he had found writing "a composition" a distasteful, unwelcome and heavy task, but as soon as he was given a chance to speak to attentive listeners his work became easy, his active mind became more fully awake, crowding thoughts clamored for expression, and, while he talked, the subject given to him developed far beyond any previous outline that he had made. and it was so now, his proposed few words becoming many and his promise to be very brief being soon forgotten. "of course, we are all thinking a lot about that poor man," he said, "and perhaps some of you have thought, as i have, how much better it would have been for him and his family if he had gone to the war and died gloriously for his country instead of coming to such an end in such a place as this at such a time. but i don't want to say much about mr. jackson. ever since the days of old rome, my uncle says, it has been agreed that we ought to say little about the dead unless we are ready to say something in praise. "i speak of him because the way he died reminds me of what i read in that newspaper mr. jenkins brought in here when he came. i read in that paper of how a captain in our army wasn't true to our side because his parents were germans and he had relatives in germany, and of how he was sentenced to twenty-five years of hard labor. that and lots of other things i've read show what we are up against in this country. my uncle says our northern states are full of foreigners who came over here just to make money, and they and their children still love the countries they came from, the germans especially, who, i've read, claim twenty millions in our country that are german by birth or descent." "gee-whiz!" cried buck hardy, quick to see the boy's point. "of course, most of these have been here long enough to become real americans. my uncle thinks there is doubt about only the more recent immigrations. but even these are a great population, and the things that have happened prove that very many of them are working for the kaiser with all their might. they spy for germany and blow up and burn down munition plants. they do even more harm by their cunning whispers and continual talk. they get hold of ignorant people and try to persuade them that it costs too much in blood and money to fight germany and that, anyhow, the world would be better off under the kaiser's rule. i read of one german, a professor in one of our colleges, who actually argued in print that the wisest thing to do is to submit and make peace on any terms. you see, they are not real americans, and still love and admire germany; they would really enjoy having the kaiser walk on their necks, and they may think that to try to make this country one of the tails to the kaiser's kite is just the thing they ought to do. besides, they know that german rule would bring them forward and make them the aristocrats in this country." the listeners to this boyish, but pointed and intensely earnest harangue were all of old american stock and at this point all of them, without exception, were visibly indignant. "don't you see what this brings us up against?" asked ted. "and what we are up against reminds me of the way mr. jackson died. this great german element that is secretly for the kaiser is our snake in the grass that watches and waits and will come out and strike openly if ever a german army lands on our shores. meanwhile it tries to poison the minds of our people and it does all the damage it possibly can on the sly. you see what we have to fight right here at home and how, in a way, we have a harder pull and need more help than any of our allies. "now this is my answer to the argument i have heard in this camp. some of you have said that you are not needed because the country is so big and powerful and has so many men. we _are_ powerful, but, you see, we have the secret foe at home as well as the open foe on the french border, and we need all our strength--all our able-bodied young men--so that we can go ahead in a big way and _smash_ the hateful huns. our country needs _you_, and _you_, and _you_," cried ted, nodding his head toward buck hardy, and then toward every man around the camp fire in turn. "do you want to see a german viceroy taking orders from the kaiser at washington?" he demanded. "do you want to see a german general in command of atlanta and of every other state capital? do you want to see a strutting german boss lording it over every town and county in this country? if you do, then you can say that you are not needed. maybe you can't be stirred up by the president's call to make the world safe for democracy, because that may sound to you like something far away--though it isn't--but don't you--" cried the boy, tears starting in his eyes--"don't you want to see the american flag keep on flying? don't you want to see your neighbors and all our people live in freedom and safety? don't you want americans still to rule in the country which our ancestors fought for and won and built up? even little children have not been safe from the cruelty of the germans. do you want them protected? do you want to keep our young women from being carried off into slavery? do you want your mothers and sisters and sweethearts to belong to foreign beasts? do you want to see in your own neighborhoods the dreadful things that have been seen in belgium and france? the people in france have suffered so that when our first soldiers landed some of the french kissed the very hem of their garments. do you want to wait until _we_ feel like that toward any people who might come to help us to drive back the german hordes? "'breathes there a man with soul so dead who never to himself hath said, this is my own, my native land!' "breathes _here_, to-night, a man with soul so dead that he thinks of the safety of his own skin instead of the safety of his country, his people, his women, and who is not willing to stand up and fight for freedom, for security, for the right to live in peace, against powerful and wicked aggressors? oh, god, i wish _i_ were old enough to go to the war and do my part!" then, overcome by his emotions, ted threw himself down on the grass and sobbed aloud. hubert, who was near, put an arm over his cousin and sobbed with him. july, who had crawled nearer on the grass while ted was speaking and now lay flat on his stomach close at hand, reached out a hand and touched the boy's shoulder, whispering: "nem-mind, cap'n ted. you done yo' part to-night. you been doin' yo' part ever since you come to dis camp. don't you cry, cap'n ted, honey." "did you ever see the like o' that boy?" asked al peters softly. "he sure made the cold chills run up and down my back." the remark was made to buck hardy, whose lips were twitching nervously and who did not answer. "too bad he _ain't_ old enough," said bud jones. "he'd sure make a dandy cap'n in the army." the other slackers stared into the fire in gloomy silence. suddenly buck hardy rose to his feet, clearing his throat as he too looked steadily into the fire. "well, fellows," he said, "i don't know how the rest o' you feel, but i'm ready to quit. i'm tired o' playin' the game of a sneakin' suck-egg dog and i want to try the game of bein' a _man_." "goin' to desert, air you?" asked zack james in a harsh, unsteady voice. "no--goin' to _quit desertin'_." "goin' to go back on _us_," insisted james, "jes' because a _boy_ has got lots o' lip and can talk to beat the band." "no," said buck, keeping his temper. "he sure is game and a great kid, and he stirred me up powerful; but i made up my mind before to-night. i made it up when i was by my sick mother's bed. i'm free to say that that boy's talk before that had a lot to do with it, but the truth is i ain't been satisfied from the start. i never did really belong to this crowd. i got in wrong last summer when i thought i knew better than the congress of the united states about that draft business and was fool enough to get mad." zack james blew out his breath in a sort of contemptuous hiss. "i meant to tell you all as soon as i come back yesterday," continued buck, taking no notice of james, "but the trouble in camp stopped me. i only come back to get them boys, and to-morrow i'll start out with 'em. i'm goin' to take them boys home and then i'm goin' to the war." "oh, mr. hardy," cried ted, who had been drying his eyes as he listened, and who now started up, "i'm gladder to hear that than to know that we are going home!" mitch' jenkins now spoke for the first time. "maybe you are goin' to take them boys home," he said, "but you ain't goin' to the war. you are goin' to jail, and then you are goin' to be shot." "what do you mean?" demanded buck in startled tones, plainly disturbed. then ted darted his hand into an inside pocket and brought out a battered newspaper clipping. "that's what they are sayin' in my neighborhood," declared jenkins. "and that's why, when i heard of you fellows on the quiet, i came in to join you. i'd let the time to register go by, and so i come in here a-kitin'." "mr. jenkins," said ted, boldly facing hostile eyes, his voice quite steady, "you heard a wild rumor of the sort the germans in this country are spreading all the time. i have the real facts here, mr. hardy. i cut this out of that paper mr. jenkins himself brought in, thinking i might need it. it got wet when we crossed the 'prairie,' but you can read it. it is a part of provost marshal general crowder's report on the first draft. it says that out of nearly ten million men not much over five thousand arrests were made for failure to register, that more than half of these, after registering, were released. "'the authorities,'" read the boy from his clipping, "'wisely assumed an attitude of leniency toward all those who after arrest exhibited a willingness to register and extended the _locus penitentiæ_ as far as possible, believing that the purpose of the law was to secure a full registration rather than full jails.'" ted handed the clipping to buck, who, after looking it over carefully, handed it to al peters, remarking: "another lie nailed. i don't mean that you did the lyin', jenkins. i reckon it was the germans." the clipping passed from peters to jones and then to jenkins, each holding it near the fire and reading in silence. jenkins studied it carefully and then, without comment, passed it to james, who, after hardly a glance at the printed lines, tore up the clipping and threw it into the fire. "what good will that do you?" asked peters scornfully. "nothin' but newspaper lies to fool runaways like us out of their hidin' places," said james bitterly. ted, who regarded the clipping as of great value and considered it his property, turned with an outraged face to buck, who chose to take no notice of an incident which appeared to him unimportant. "well, fellows," he said in conclusion, "i've put you on notice, and now all i've got to do is to get ready." "so you've gone back on us," repeated james, his voice trembling with anger, "and you'll go out and put the sheriff on our trail?" "i didn't say that. i don't expect to hunt up the sheriff. i'll be satisfied if he don't hunt me up. but if he asks me straight up and down, i don't engage to do any lyin'." "you mean that after them boys has blabbed the whole thing, you won't deny it?" demanded james. "i told you i wouldn't do any lyin'," said buck sharply. "all _right_," said james menacingly. "that's all i want to know." "how much more do you deserve?" asked buck, his tone showing irritation for the first time. "al peters," he said suddenly, turning to the young man addressed, "i don't think you belong in this crowd, either. if there's any yellow dog in you, i ain't seen it. don't you want to come along with me and join the _men_?" "buck," said peters, rising and stepping forward, "i have a good mind to do it." "good for you! now, jones, let's hear from you. i ain't seen any yellow dog in you either. i think that down underneath you're a _man_. don't you want to come along?" "buck, i think i will," said bud jones. he spoke as lightly as if a fishing trip had been proposed. he even smiled as he rose and took his stand in the group of which the boys were now the center. zack james started up, staring and muttering, his manner suggestive of impotent rage. he drew thatcher aside and whispered to him. "how about you, jenkins?" asked buck, smiling. "you're new and i hardly know you, but from things i've heard it looks to me like you're pretty nearly all white." "no, thank you," said jenkins, with mocking courtesy. "i'm stayin'. it's risky--with the sheriff gettin' on to it in three days' time--but it ain't as risky as goin' to jail with the chance o' bein' shot." "then, that's all," said buck. "no use to ask any o' the rest." "july wants to go out with us," spoke up ted. "i sho do want to go wid mr. hardy an' cap'n ted," declared the grinning negro. "all right, july. i brought you in and, if you want to go, i'll take you out." the two groups were now quite distinct, first carter and then jenkins having joined james and thatcher. "so," said james, as if estimating the relative strength of contending forces, "there's three of you and the nigger and the boys, and there's four of us--five when wheeler gets back." "yes, you'll get wheeler--not a doubt of it," said buck, as if greatly amused. "and you're welcome to him." then he turned his back on james, remarking to those about him: "well, i think our crowd had better go to bed. we ought to start early in the mornin'." to this there was general assent, the three men and the two boys moving at once toward the sleeping-loft, followed slowly by the negro. "good night," called out buck, his tone quite friendly. but no response came from the four slackers who, standing in their tracks, watched the departing "deserters" with hostile eyes. as the three men and the boys were climbing the ladder, july quietly disappeared. stealing into the bushes bent double, he skirted the clearing, treading very softly. five minutes later he lay in the brush within earshot of the four slackers who still stood in consultation. xxiii ted went to bed a very happy boy, seeing nothing but the wonderful achievement of his fond dream. hubert alone noted that the three men put their guns within reach of their hands when they lay down, and he alone heard al peters whisper: "what if them fellows want to make trouble?" the boy was glad to hear buck answer: "oh, shucks, there ain't spunk enough in _that_ bunch." some two hours later buck saw reason to modify this contemptuous opinion, for july brought startling news. climbing up into the sleeping-loft very quietly, the negro bent down over peters, jones and hardy in turn, shaking each until assured that each was fully awake. each grumbled sleepily, protesting and questioning. not until all three stood up and peered at him in the dim light did july fully explain. "sorry to 'sturb you gen'l'mens," he apologized, "but it ain't safe to stay sleep in dis place to-night. i's scared dem mens out dere is fixin' to burn it down on you." "what in the dickens made you wake us up to tell such a fool tale as that?" demanded buck skeptically. "i tellin' you de trufe," insisted july in an injured tone. "i was lookin' an' listenin' when mr. james shook his fist at dis place an' says: 'less burn 'em up--dat's de quick an' sure way.' dem's his very words. i slipped up on 'em an' watched an' listened." peters and jones looked at each other and then at buck. "zack james is a fool anyhow and now that he's mad, his brains is plumb addled," said buck in a disgusted tone. "nothin' but talk. jenkins wouldn't stand for it." "well, you better believe dem mens is gittin' ready to fight," insisted july. "dey's tuck all de provisions an' put 'em wid dey guns behind a bunch o' permeters close by de big pine--you know de big pine--and dey got another fire built down dere. and dey's tuck all de boats an' hid 'em. i sneaked round an' watched 'em while dey was doin' it all." this was serious. buck made no further protest when peters said: "boys, we'd better look out for ourselves." "dey's 'spectin' a fight," said july. "when i fust crawled up to listen mr. thatcher was a-sayin': 'if we got to be shot, we mought as well be shot right yuh in de swamp widout waitin' for de gov'ment to do it.'" "and what did jenkins say?" asked buck. "i couldn't make out, but i think fum de signs dat he argued an' argued an' den give in to mr. james an' them." "anyhow he won't let that fool james burn this place down on us." "we'd better move out, though, and do it quick," said jones. "zack james may be drunk. i smelt whisky on him to-day." "we've got four guns," remarked peters. an immediate move being agreed on, the boys were wakened. the guns and blankets were divided between the three white men, who also secured a few personal belongings which they kept in the sleeping-loft. the negro was told to give the boys any tins of salmon or sardines that he could find and to shoulder as large a load of raked up moss as he could carry, after dropping it through the opening in the floor. but before this was done, or any one had descended the ladder, buck lay flat on the floor, thrust his head and shoulders through the opening and looked about. as he did so, he saw a man hurrying away--after listening beneath the loft, as it appeared. buck then went half way down the ladder, gun in hand, and looked about more fully, noting that the old camp fire had burnt out and that a new one burned steadily some two hundred yards away at the point july had indicated, the upright figures of two men being visible within the circle of light. "come on, boys," he said softly, after a few moments. within fifteen minutes the move had been made in silence and without disturbance, even the moss being transferred to the chosen, grass-covered spot which was shut in on three sides by thick clumps of palmettos. here they were amply screened both on the side looking toward the sleeping-loft, which was about a hundred yards away, and on the front looking toward the slackers' new camp fire, which was some two hundred yards distant. no upright figures were now seen within the circle of light, the alert slackers evidently having taken alarm and sought shelter behind their own "bunch o' permeters." there was no moon, but myriads of stars rained soft light through the clear atmosphere, and, as the three white men took turns watching on the exposed side of their fireless camp, they were able to see every object distinctly for a considerable distance out among the scattered pines. july shaped the pile of dry moss into a comfortable bed and ted and hubert lay down under blankets, as buck insisted that they should do; but there was little sleep for anybody during the rest of that night. none of the white men lay down even while off sentinel duty. the three mostly sat in a group, watching, or listening, or softly discussing plans for the coming day. at last morning slowly dawned, nothing of importance having occurred meanwhile. as soon as the growing light brought out distinctly the outlines of every familiar object on the island within reach of the eye, buck stepped out into the open, gun in hand, faced the slackers' leafy fort, and called: "jenkins! jenkins!" in a few moments jenkins, also carrying a gun, stepped into view. "well, jenkins," shouted buck, a sneer in his tone as well as in his words, "that nice little sunday-school game of burnin' the roof over our heads didn't come off, after all. i reckon we was too quick for you." "now, buck hardy," cried jenkins, "you ought to know i wouldn't stand for nothin' o' that sort." "you're in with a bad crowd, jenkins. well, what do them yellow dogs in the bushes behind you aim to do?" "_i'd_ ruther see nothin' done. the whole thing is crazy. i say, let you fellows go out without any trouble. that's the only thing to do, _i_ say." "but your yellow dogs don't agree, one of 'em 'specially--the one that wanted to burn us out. i know who he is, and i've a good mind to walk right over there and break every bone in his body." there was a sudden rustling of the palmettos behind jenkins that seemed to indicate preparation for war. noting this, peters and jones leveled their guns through their own palmettos without exposing the muzzles to the view of the watchers in the opposite leafy fort. the two boys and the negro looked and listened with all their eyes and ears, their excitement now intense. but buck hardy stood in a careless pose, gun in hand, as before. "jenkins," he said, "if you've got any influence with carter and thatcher, talk to 'em. then stack all your guns against that big pine. then _we'll_ stack our guns where you can see 'em. then i'll walk over there empty-handed and wipe up the ground with zack james. let that settle it. _i'll_ be satisfied." jenkins had no time to speak, even if ready with a reply. the last word was hardly uttered when there came a flash from the green behind him, a loud report followed, and a bullet whistled by buck hardy's head. instantly peters and jones fired their guns. then jenkins leaped out of sight, and buck, after firing where he stood, sought cover beside his friends. the slackers promptly fired a volley from their green covert in response, the bullets rattling through the palmettos and passing over the heads of the two seated boys. "lie down flat!" buck commanded them. "here, nigger, take this extra gun and shoot," cried peters, shoving it toward july with his left hand as he raised his own gun with his right. july took the gun with a frightened air and a sickly smile, but prepared to obey. hubert flattened himself out on the grass and lay still, as ordered; but ted, unable to endure such inaction, with its attendant inability to see what was going on, crawled quietly and unnoticed into the palmettos to the left of the men until he reached a point where, by resting on his elbows and cautiously parting the leafage in front of him, he could scan the open and see the green covert sheltering the enemy as it trembled under the shock of each volley fired into it. "aim low," he presently heard buck say. "the only way to end it is to hit some of 'em." "i wish we had an american flag to run up," thought ted, as the next volley was fired. a moment later he forgot this aspiration, as a cry of pain was heard from the slackers' covert. "somebody's hit!" cried peters gaily. buck chuckled. jones laughed aloud. intense excitement reigned, mingled with a fierce exultation which ted, as he realized afterward, fully shared. the three white men and the negro fired again, and were raising their guns once more when buck suddenly called a halt. "hold on," he said. "looks like they've quit. and if they have, we'll quit, too." all listened intently and looked cautiously forth. there were now no answering shots. it was evident that the slackers had either "quit" or, as peters suggested, were "hatching some mischief." while keeping a wary eye on the open woods behind them, the watchful listeners waited for some sign from the silenced "fort," and presently it came. a white handkerchief rose on the end of a stick and fluttered above the clump of palmettos. "hello, there!" shouted buck. "is that you, jenkins? it's got to be jenkins, or we won't trust you." "it's me," they heard the voice of jenkins, rather fainter than it had been during the previous parley. "it's all over, hardy. you've got us. james and thatcher have run--they're in the boats and gone by this time. nobody here but me and carter." "step out, then, and stack your guns." "we're both hit, but i reckon we can do that much." jenkins came out of cover, limping, and stood his gun against the tree. behind him came carter, dragging his gun with one hand, his other arm hanging limp at his side. "i reckon it's all right," said buck. "but, july, you stay here and keep them boys till we make sure." then the three white men, holding their guns in readiness, walked across the open to investigate. left alone with the boys, july suddenly began to laugh with all the abandon of the happiest of darkies. "dat sho was a grand fight," he assured the boys. "an' what you reckon, cap'n ted? atter i shot once i wasn't scared. i des 'joyed myself shootin' at dem slackers an' list'nin' to de bullets rattlin' round us in dese permeters. i wouldn't 'a' believed it. i sho is a 'stonished nigger dis mawnin'." july laughed ecstatically, and before the amused and pleased boys had spoken he continued: "look yuh, cap'n ted, maybe i won't haf to have des a cook's job in de army. maybe i'd 'joy myself mo' still shootin' at dem germans out o' one o' dem holes in de ground. if dey want to try me, i's willin'--i don' care how soon de gov'ment put a rifle in my hands an' sick me on dem germans!" then the grinning negro gave vent to his feelings in a prodigious and joyful yell--a sort of war whoop in advance. "july, this is simply _great_!" cried ted, full of enthusiasm as he beheld a soldier born for uncle sam in the most unexpected quarter. "and i'm not so very much surprised either; for i have heard old army men say that a great many good soldiers are afraid at first." then they heard buck's shout that everything was "all right," and the two boys and the negro raced eagerly across the intervening space. "july," ordered buck, "bring a bucket of water and any old cloth you can find. and be quick." carter was seated with his back against a tree, his face very pale and his bared arm showing a deep flesh wound out of which came an alarming flow of blood. jenkins, seated near, had uncovered a bleeding but much less serious flesh wound in the calf of his left leg. "zack james was at the bottom of the whole fool business," jenkins was saying. "he was drinkin' all night. you can see his empty bottle behind them permeters." "lucky for him that he beat it before i got my hands on him," said buck. while peters and jones were checking the red flow from carter's wound and very carefully binding it up, ted noticed with alarm that blood trickled down buck's left wrist. he had received instruction in first aid as a part of his boy scout training and now insisted on dressing his friend's wound, although buck protested that the bullet had "just grazed" his arm and no attention was necessary. ted cleared the drying blood from around the scratch and, tearing into strips his handkerchief which he had washed and dried the previous afternoon, neatly employed a part of it as a bandage. "thank you, little doctor," said buck, smiling and pleased. then ted turned to jenkins and very carefully performed the same office for him, in this case there being some real need. "you sure are a nice kid," said jenkins gratefully. "i didn't think you'd do it for me because i wasn't on your side in the fight." "do you take me for a _german_?" demanded ted, vastly indignant. "the americans and the english and the french always attend to wounded prisoners of war. only the germans leave the enemy wounded to die, or kill them. they fire on the red cross and sink hospital ships, too. but we are different." "lord, no; i'd never take you for a german," apologized jenkins, with a twitch of his lip and a twinkle in his eye. ted looked around, bright-eyed, upon the scene about him and the swamp-island surroundings, sighing, not with sadness, but with relief and satisfaction in the shaping and fortunate issue of events. well pleased, he noted that the sun had risen in a clear sky and that birds were singing joyfully. the boy vaguely sensed the wonderful and ever-compensating fact that nature had received no shock and its marvelous mechanism remained untouched; that the world was beautiful and its inarticulate creatures were happy, in spite of man's strain and strife, his guns and his wars. "hurry up now, july, and get us some breakfast," the voice of buck hardy was heard calling. xxiv two tramping parties approached each other on the borders of the great okefinokee in the late afternoon. the one just emerged from the swamp consisted of ted carroll, hubert ridgway, the three reformed slackers, the negro, and the two "prisoners of war," the first of the latter moving with a slight limp and the second carrying his arm in a sling. the party descending toward the swamp consisted of judge ridgway, in hunting dress and carrying a gun, the widely known sheriff of that section, several deputies, a negro with a heavy provision-pack, and the venerable swamp-squatter whose long beard running down in a point had reminded hubert of "a ram-goat" until the old fellow's kindness had won the hearts of both boys. as the homeward-bound party wound out of the swamp brush, and the party moving down the slope skirted a blackjack thicket and came into full view, both halted momentarily, uttering ejaculations of astonishment. then ted and hubert, whose keen young eyes saw everything and whose quick minds leaped upon the explanation, raced forward, shouting, and rushed into their uncle's arms. judge ridgway held them hard and kissed them; then, with an arm round ted on his right and an arm round hubert on his left, he sat on a log and listened as the boys' tongues ran a veritable race. the sheriff, his deputies; and the old swamp-squatter stood respectfully apart. the three reformed slackers and the "prisoners of war" halted where the shouting and racing boys had left them, comprehending what had occurred and awaiting further developments, even the three who counted on the friendship of the boys not altogether easy in their minds. but july, grinning, delighted, curious, edged nearer until he heard hubert crowd upon ted's last words, saying: "and ted made speeches to them nearly every night. i told him and told him it wouldn't do any good, but it did a lot of good. it converted them." "and you were just starting to look for us?" asked ted. "yes--the moment we were ready, without waiting for an early morning start. i'll tell you later what kept me away from home so long, and why my servants thought you were staying in town, and how cousin jim thought you were just having a good time hunting around the plantation. i had just got home when your good old swamp-squatter friend turned up and told us where to find you." "it doesn't matter, uncle," said ted. "i'm awfully glad--now that it's over--that you _didn't_ start any sooner, because, if you had, you know, some of the great things that happened might not have happened." judge ridgway smiled and squeezed the boy, then said: "well, now let me have a look at your party. suppose you bring up the 'prisoners of war' first." turning away with a vastly important air to execute this commission, ted and hubert ran into the venerable mr. george smith. "i'm that glad to see you boys i don't know what to do," declared the smiling old swamp-squatter, grasping their hands. "i'd 'a' footed it out to judge ridgway's even if sweet jackson had 'a' locked me up and flung away the key." "he won't bother you any more," said hubert, without stopping to explain. "thank you _so much_, mr. smith," said ted. "i just knew you would." then the boys ran on their way. "they are all here except james, thatcher and wheeler," judge ridgway was saying to the sheriff, who had stepped to his side. "to-morrow you can send a party in to round them up." then followed the rare spectacle of a judge "holdin' court right dere in de open pine woods"--to quote from july's later description. for ted and hubert had brought up the "prisoners of war." "mr. jenkins and mr. carter," said ted, presenting them. "good names that have not been honored," judge ridgway sternly commented, looking the prisoners up and down with a keen, appraising eye. "i imagine that you haven't much to say for yourselves, for there isn't much to be said. have you had enough of dodging the law of the land and shirking your duty, hidden like thieves in a swamp? are you ready to register and go to the war when called?" "yes, sir," answered jenkins and carter in a breath. "that's the main requisite, and the situation is now practically in your own hands, for, as the higher authorities have wisely said, what the country wants is full armies, not full jails. take them in charge, mr. sheriff. i will only say further that i should like to see them given every chance, mr. jenkins especially, for whom my dear boys have spoken a good word." when the "prisoners of war" had stepped apart in the company of the deputies, jenkins exchanging a parting smile with ted as he went, judge ridgway spoke again to the sheriff: "i want the other three young men to spend the night at my house. their case is different. i think also that i'll have my servants put up the young negro for the night--my boys are so grateful to him. i will be responsible for the four and see that they are registered to-morrow." "all right, judge," said the sheriff, and, saluting, he marched off with his deputies and the "prisoners of war." judge ridgway rose from his seat, smiling, as ted and hubert brought up their three friends and introduced them. he shook hands first with peters and then with jones, saying: "well, boys, you made a very serious mistake, but even serious mistakes can be rectified; and i understand that you have voluntarily done so already, so far as was in your power. _voluntary_ rectification is everything. little more can be asked, and we'll say no more about it." then he turned to buck with an extremely friendly manner, holding the young man's hand in a warm clasp. "mr. hardy, i am deeply indebted to you," he said. "i shudder to think of what my boys might have suffered but for you and your commanding influence over that lawless crowd." "judge--judge ridgway, you--you make me ashamed," stammered buck, awkwardly, his eyes lowered. "what i did for them was nothin' to what ted did for me. that boy made me feel like i'd never get any peace o' mind till i'd bagged about sixteen o' them germans." "you're the right stuff!" declared judge ridgway, with a suddenly renewed grip of buck's hand. after smiling with the greatest satisfaction into buck's uplifted eyes, he addressed the three young men collectively: "i want you all to spend the night at my house." "oh, judge, we don't want to impose----" began peters. "not a word; you've got to come, all of you," declared judge ridgway merrily, as he noted the looks exchanged by the embarrassed young backwoodsmen. "i want you to help my boys tell their wonderful story. even ulysses after all his travels never found a keener listener than i shall be." he was about to add that all had now better start on the homeward tramp, when he noticed the old swamp-squatter lingering to say good-by. "come back and stay all night, mr. smith," he hospitably invited. "then you can make an early start in the morning." "thank you, judge, i believe i will," the old man eagerly accepted. july had already been informed by hubert that he was to be the guest of old asa and clarissa for the night, and he could now be seen with the black pack-carrier hurrying along the path ahead, eager, as he had confessed, to reach the ridgway kitchen and relate to a gaping audience the marvelous adventures of "cap'n ted." "walk on with your friends, ted," directed judge ridgway. "i want to speak to hubert." as soon as he learned that the boys were lost in the swamp judge ridgway telegraphed his brother in north carolina, and that morning he had received a long answer. "i've heard from your father, hubert," he now informed the boy. "both your father and mother want me to send you home at once. they think ted's influence is bad for you." "oh, they don't understand," cried hubert, his grip on his lachrymal ducts visibly loosening. "i wouldn't take a thousand dollars for this great trip with ted. i'm more of a man right now than i would have been without ted. to be with ted is the greatest thing in the world!" "hubert, shake hands with your uncle," said judge ridgway, stopping short. "there's much better stuff in you than i supposed. good boy! you won't have to go till to-morrow, and i'll see to it that you come down to visit ted soon." a few minutes later hubert joined the party ahead and told ted that his uncle wanted to speak to him. ted ran back gladly, shouting as he drew near: "oh, uncle--i forgot. what's the news about the war?" "a great battle[a] is raging on the west front--but we'll talk about that later." [a] the great german drive beginning march , . judge ridgway put his arm over ted's shoulder, and they walked forward. "i'm to have you for keeps now," he said. "your uncle fred has at last agreed to give you up." "that's just what i've wanted!" "we have much to talk about. as to your future, i rather think it will have to be west point for you, eh?" "splendid!" cried ted, his eyes glowing. "oh, uncle, everything is coming just as i wanted it. isn't it wonderful how things come out all right? and i'm always expecting it, too. in the very worst times in the swamp i told hubert we'd get out of it and even be glad of what we'd gone through. and now i'm expecting, i'm sure of, the greatest thing of all--our victory over the germans!" an hour later, just as the white front of the ridgway house showed through the trees from afar, judge ridgway and ted joined the others, and, looking around upon all his friends, the boy exclaimed: "_won't_ we have a party to-night!" "yes, i think it will be a 'party,'" said judge ridgway. "i think clarissa will try to serve such a supper as she has sometimes seen in her dreams. and i think we may even drink a toast to my ted." putting an affectionate hand on the boy's shoulder, buck hardy slightly amended the announcement of their host. "to _captain_ ted," he said. the end * * * * * transcriber's corrections following is a list of significant typographical errors that have been corrected. - page , "beargrass" changed to "bear-grass" for consistency of use (grape-vines and bear-grass ropes). - page , "repetion" changed to "repetition" (in tireless repetition). - page , "wildcat" changed to "wild-cat" for consistency of use (an ordinary wild-cat). - page , "wildcat's" changed to "wild-cat's" for consistency of use (the dead wild-cat's feet). - page , "inclosed" changed to "enclosed" (space enclosed on three sides). - page , "himsel" changed to "himself" (lifting himself guardedly). - page , "anwering" changed to "answering" (no answering shots). the hickory ridge boy scouts a series of books for boys which, in addition to the interesting boy scout stories by captain alan douglas, scoutmaster, contain articles on nature lore, native animals and a fund of other information pertaining to out-of-door life, that will appeal to the boy's love of the open. i. the campfires of the wolf patrol their first camping experience affords the scouts splendid opportunities to use their recently acquired knowledge in a practical way. elmer chenowith, a lad from the northwest woods, astonishes everyone by his familiarity with camp life. a clean, wholesome story every boy should read. ii. woodcraft; or, how a patrol leader made good this tale presents many stirring situations in which some of the boys are called upon to exercise all their ingenuity and unselfishness. a story filled with healthful excitement. iii. pathfinder; or, the missing tenderfoot some mysteries are cleared up in a most unexpected way, greatly to the credit of our young friends. a variety of incidents follow fast, one after the other. iv. fast nine; or, a challenge from fairfield they show the same team-work here as when in camp. the description of the final game with the team of a rival town, and the outcome thereof, form a stirring narrative. one of the best baseball stories of recent years. v. great hike; or, the pride of the khaki troop after weeks of preparation the scouts start out on their greatest undertaking. their march takes them far from home, and the good-natured rivalry of the different patrols furnishes many interesting and amusing situations. vi. endurance test; or, how clear grit won the day few stories "get" us more than illustrations of pluck in the face of apparent failure. our heroes show the stuff they are made of and surprise their most ardent admirers. one of the best stories captain douglas has written. * * * * * boy scout nature lore to be found in the hickory ridge boy scout series wild animals of the united states--tracking--in number i. trees and wild flowers of the united states in number ii. reptiles of the united states in number iii. fishes of the united states in number iv. insects of the united states in number v. birds of the united states in number vi. _cloth binding_ _cover illustrations in four colors_ _ c. per volume_ the new york book company fourth avenue (near th st.) new york woodcraft or how a patrol leader made good complete roster, when the patrols were filled, of the hickory ridge troop of boy scouts mr. roderic garrabrant, scout master the wolf patrol elmer chenowith, patrol leader, and also assistant scout master mark cummings ted (theodore) burgoyne toby (tobias) ellsworth jones "lil artha" (arthur) stansbury chatz (charles) maxfield phil (philip) dale george robbins the beaver patrol matty (matthew) eggleston, patrol leader "red" (oscar) huggins ty (tyrus) collins jasper merriweather tom cropsey larry (lawrence) billings hen (henry) condit landy (philander) smith the eagle patrol jack armitage, patrol leader nat (nathan) scott (others to be enlisted until this patrol has reached its legitimate number) [illustration: they had gone possibly another mile when elmer came to a halt.] the hickory ridge boy scouts [illustration] woodcraft or how a patrol leader made good by captain alan douglas scout master [illustration] the new york book company new york copyright, , by the new york book company contents chapter page i.--two scouts in a storm ii.--a lesson in woodcraft iii.--more rumblings of coming trouble iv.--first aid to the injured v.--the meeting in the old wagon shop vi.--the little red button vii.--a job for the boy scouts to do viii.--following a trail ix.--reasoning that looked like magic x.--giving matt tubbs a chance xi.--at mcgraw's lumber yard xii.--a rebellion nipped in the bud xiii.--red plans the part of the crafty fox xiv.--taken by surprise xv.--elmer thinks it pays xvi.--lending a helping hand woodcraft or how a patrol leader made good _the hickory ridge boy scouts_ woodcraft; or, how a patrol leader made good. chapter i. two scouts in a storm. crashes of thunder, sounding like the roll of heavy artillery in battle, echoed through the forest some miles above the town of hickory ridge on an august day. overhead, black, sullen clouds had covered the heavens, and at any moment now the ominous stillness of the woods might give way to the rushing sound of the wild wind, together with a downpour of rain. two half-grown lads, dressed in the usual khaki costume recognized as the official uniform of the boy scouts of america, were standing there in the midst of the heavy growth, casting uneasy looks around them. it is one thing to watch the coming of a furious storm from the windows of one's home, and quite another to be caught napping, miles away from shelter. and the smaller of the comrades had a frightened look on his face. "my goodness! hear that, will you, larry?" exclaimed this rather timid fellow, as he instinctively caught hold of his more sturdy comrade's sleeve, when a particularly fierce flash of lightning was succeeded by a terrific crash. "ain't you going to find a hollow tree somewhere, and climb in? why, we'll get soaked to the skin if we don't look out, i tell you!" "i reckon you're about right there, jasper," replied the other, larry billings by name; and he made a wry face while speaking. "but then, you see, there are some things worse than getting wet, and being struck by lightning happens to be one of the same. excuse me, if you please; i'll take my medicine the best i can, but you remember, jasper, among a lot of other things we learned when we joined the scouts, we were warned never under any circumstances to get under a tree during a thunderstorm." "but that meant out in the open, where there might be only one tree," remonstrated jasper, whose last name happened to be merriweather. "here in the woods it's a heap different, i should think. among so many big trees you don't think now for a minute that freak lightning's going to pick out the very one we're in, to knock it to flinders, do you, larry?" "i don't know, and what's more i ain't going to try to find out," went on the stockier built lad, with resolution in his manner. "you and me came away up here just to see how much we had learned about woodcraft, and it wouldn't look right if we shied at one of the rules the first chance. besides," he went on, with a broad grin, for larry was a good-natured fellow ordinarily, "if the experiment proved to be a dead failure, we wouldn't be given a chance to try it over again, you see. lightning don't often knock at the same door twice." "ugh! you make me shiver, larry!" exclaimed the smaller lad. "but what in the wide world can we just do to keep dry?" "oh! that's the least thing that bothers me," replied the other. "being wet ain't anything much-a-much. i've tumbled in mill races, and been yanked out of ponds ever since i was knee high to a duck. but the worst is yet to come, jasper." "now you're just trying to scare me, larry, and you ought to be ashamed to do it. you know i used to be the most timid fellow ever, and that it was only after i joined the scouts, and went on that trip up the sweetwater to lake solitude that i began to outgrow that failing. now it's beginning to get a grip on me again. but tell me, whatever do you mean by saying the worst is something more than getting our new uniforms soaked through?" "why, you see, jasper, we're lost, that's what!" remarked larry, although the fact did not seem to frighten him very much, for he was chuckling while speaking as though it looked like a big joke to him. but with poor jasper the case was entirely different. "well, that beats the dutch!" he cried with genuine disgust. "the two of us felt so dead sure we knew it all, that nothing would do for us but to come away up here five miles or so from home, just to show everybody that we could take care of ourselves. and now you deliberately tell me we've gone and got lost, like the poor little babes in the woods, and with a terrible storm going to pounce down on us right away." "oh! brace up, jasper!" exclaimed larry, seeing the lower lip of his comrade quivering, and his face showing signs of becoming pallid. "this may be the making of us as scouts, you see. no fellow's worth beans until he's proved that he can take the rough jolts as well as the smooth things of life. just put your teeth together, and say you're going to grin and bear it, no matter what comes." "ain't i trying to, larry," pleaded the smaller chap, "but it seems like my teeth keep on rattling all the while. i'm shivering, and yet it can't be with the cold. i wish i had some of elmer chenowith's nerve just now." "shucks! i reckon now that you can have your share of nerve, jasper," declared larry, impatiently, "if only you make up your mind to _take_ it. didn't mr. garrabrant, our fine scout-master, tell us only the other night that was so? just shut your teeth hard, and say over and over again that you ain't goin' to let anything feaze you. you'll be surprised at the feeling it gives you." "i wonder now, did elmer really mean to keep tabs on what we were doing?" remarked jasper, after another tremendous peal of thunder had seemed to almost split the heavens open. "you know, we thought he looked at us kind of funny when he asked us what we meant to do this morning, hiking out of hickory ridge, with our sticks in our hands and some grub in our haversacks." "oh! i don't think elmer would bother following all this way," replied larry, though at the same time he might have been seen to cast an anxious, eager glance around, as though indulging in a faint hope himself that something of the sort had happened. "well, he's the best fellow ever, you know, larry," the smaller boy went on, "and he's sure taken a heap of interest in my trying to make a man of myself. he even took the trouble to come and see me twice, and go over a lot of things with me that he said a true scout ought to know." "sure elmer is worth his weight in gold," larry affirmed. "and now's the time to show him his faith in you wasn't wasted, jasper. buck up, and just make up your mind neither of us happens to be made of salt, so a little juice ain't going to hurt us. as for that lightning, well, perhaps we might find some hole to climb in, because it wouldn't hunt us out underground." "oh! if we only could!" gasped jasper, as another flash came that fairly dazzled both boys; to be succeeded by a sudden report that sounded as though something had exploded near by. "listen! what's that?" demanded the smaller boy, again clutching his comrade by the sleeve. "reckon she's hiking along right fast now," answered larry, grimly. "come, let's walk over this way. who knows but we might run on some sort of shelter. and when we're up against such a snag, i tell you flat that beggars ain't goin' to be choosers if the chance comes our way." "that must be rain we hear away off there," suggested jasper, shuddering. "rain and wind together; and sounds to me like it might turn out to be something of a howler. hope the trees don't go dropping around us. we might have some trouble dodging 'em if they came too fast." jasper shot a quick look at his companion's face, as if to see whether larry could mean what he said. then he bit his lower lip until it actually bled. but for the time being not another expression of dismay did he utter. fear of ridicule had conquered over the genuine article. they hurried forward, both of them eagerly looking for some hollow log, or overturned tree, that might give some promise of shelter against the deluge that would soon be upon them. "you keep tabs on the right, and i'll cover the left!" remarked larry, but he had to raise his voice to almost a shout now, because of the increasing roaring sound that was sweeping down upon their rear. "it's getting night in the woods!" cried jasper, as the gloom increased. "rats!" scoffed his comrade, derisively. "you know it ain't more'n two o'clock. after it's all over the bully old sun will be shining again, all right." "oh! do you really think so, larry?" asked the other, grasping at the slightest gleam of hope, just as a drowning person might at a floating straw. "well, it'll be shining, all right," asserted larry, positively, "and i reckon we'll be on deck to see it, too. hi! what's this here, jasper?" "have you struck a place for us to crawl in, larry? oh! i hope so, i'm sure! why, it's a hollow log, and with a hole plenty big enough to let a fellow creep inside!" "that's right," called the other, cheerfully. "and now suppose you get down on your knees, and push in, feet first. then if you should get stuck, you could crawl out again, see?" "but looky here, larry," cried jasper suddenly and suspiciously. "it's such an awfully short log, i don't believe both of us can ever get in it." "no more we can, jasper, and all the more reason for you to crawl in right away now," and larry began to urge his comrade to flatten himself out on the ground, with both feet in touch with the hollow log. "but how about you, larry?" expostulated jasper. "shucks! didn't i tell you i wasn't made of sugar or salt? rain won't ever hurt larry billings. get a move on you now, and squeeze in. that wet old rain is mighty near here now. i thought i felt a drop right then. crawl, you slow tortoise! here, let me give you a shove along." jasper turned a white face upward. "you ain't going to run away, and leave me here, are you, larry?" he asked. "what! me?" shouted the other, indignantly. "what d'ye take me for, jasper? a true scout would never act that way to a chum. not much. i'm just goin' to snuggle down alongside the log here, and wait till the storm blows itself out. get a good grip on yourself now, and nothing ain't goin' to hurt you. give you my word on it, jasper," and he again started to energetically push the smaller lad into the gaping hole that had offered such an asylum in time of need. "and the lightning won't strike this log, either, will it?" the boy who was accepting the wooden jacket asked. "never in the world. that's what mr. garrabrant told us--hunt out a hollow log if you can, but never a tree that's standing upright. nor a barn either, for that matter. in you go, jasper; why, man alive, you're going to be as snug as a bug in a rug, don't you know." "but larry, won't you please knock on the side every little while," asked the timid one, eagerly. "it'll be so comforting to me to just know you're still there, even if i can't see you." "course i will, and right hearty, too," jollied larry, who realized now that the boy was pretty badly rattled by the terrific roar of the storm, as well as by the strange gloom that had fallen on the great woods, and in thus trying to comfort his weaker companion larry quite forgot any natural fear he might have himself otherwise experienced. "i guess i'm fixed all right now," came in half muffled tones from inside the log, and then suddenly jasper gave a shrill cry. "oh! there's something biting at my feet! larry, pull me out, quick! there's a bear or a wildcat in here, and it'll chew my feet up! hurry, hurry! get me out!" so there seemed nothing for it but that larry should catch hold, and help the panic-stricken one out of the hollow log again. when this had been done, they just stood there in the gathering gloom and looked at each other. "reckon you'll just have to take your ducking the same as me, then," grumbled larry, with the resigned air of a martyr who had done his best for a friend, and could not be blamed for whatever happened. "then i will, larry," said jasper, trying to be brave, though still shuddering. "let's both run over there, and see if we can find shelter behind the roots of that fallen tree! oh! wait, wait, i surely saw something moving there! yes, look larry, there it is again! why, it's a man--no, a boy! that's what it is!" "sure it is," laughed larry, with the greatest relief possible in his voice; "and no other than elmer chenowith, our scout leader. he _did_ follow us all the way up here, and it's a mighty good thing for us that happened. it's all right now, jasper. he'll know what to do!" chapter ii. a lesson in woodcraft. "hello! hello! come this way, quick, both of you!" shouted the sturdy-looking young fellow who had appeared so opportunely on the scene, and whose coming seemed to inspire both larry and jasper with renewed confidence. he beckoned as he gave utterance to these words, and catching hold of his companion's arm larry hastened to obey. there was indeed need of hurrying. already the drops had begun to come pattering down, like shot rattling through the thick leaves overhead. and that furious combination of howling wind and descending rain was almost upon them. stumbling along, the two boys reached the spot where stood elmer chenowith, who was the assistant scout-master to the hickory ridge boy scout troop. "here, get back of this upturned mass of roots!" cried the other, as he pushed both the scouts ahead of him. the tree in falling, years back, had lifted a great mass of earth with its roots. this formed a bulwark at least seven feet in height. and as luck would have it, the hole in the ground was just on the other side from the direction where that wind howled now. this proved that the previous storm, by which the king of the forest had been bowled over, must have come from exactly opposite that quarter from whence the present gale was springing. neither larry nor jasper thought anything about such a thing just then, their one anxiety being to gain such shelter as the barricade promised to afford. but elmer was always on the watch for curious facts in connection with the woodcraft he studied at every opportunity, and this matter was of considerable importance in his eyes. so the three lads cowered there, trying to make themselves as small as possible. "we're bound to get soaked, all right," called elmer, as the rain commenced to come down heavier and heavier; "but then, that doesn't cut any figure in the case. so long as we keep from being carried away by the hurricane wind, or have a tree squash down on top of us, we hadn't ought to complain." "that's what," answered larry; "and i tell you we're both as glad as can be to run across you up here, elmer. this storm came on us just when we had to admit we'd lost our grip of all the boasted woodcraft we knew, and were at sea." "don't try to talk any more just now, fellows!" called elmer. "the old storm's making too much racket. wait till the worst goes by." jasper was still shaking some. true, this shelter promised to be comforting, but he found reason to fear, from words elmer had let fall, that the worst was yet to come, and that the storm would increase. otherwise, why should the scout leader, who was so well versed in everything pertaining to outdoors, speak of it as a hurricane wind? so poor jasper held on to some projection of the fallen tree, and drew his breath in little gasps. the uplifted mass of roots protected them in some measure from the rain, and altogether from the driving wind, but by degrees little rivers of water commenced to descend from the trees overhead, and these soon completed the job of soaking the trio of scouts. the minutes passed, and nothing very serious happened. true, once or twice jasper believed he heard a crash as some weak tree yielded to the strain, and went over. but this did not come to pass very near them, so they did not incur any particular danger. "seems to be letting up a bit!" finally remarked larry, raising his voice in order to be heard, for the racket was still tremendous. "oh! do you really think so?" cried jasper, excitedly. "there's no doubt of it," declared elmer, with a reassuring nod, for he understood the nervous nature of the smaller boy, and in times past had made it his particular business to build up jasper's courage and determination, always wabbly. the crashes of thunder as a rule sounded further away, though now and then one would break that seemed to outdo all the rest, as though the storm might be trying to linger in the vicinity of the upturned tree. then the rain slackened. "not that it matters much," said elmer, laughing; "because we're all like drowned rats right now. but wait till it stops; then we'll build a jolly big fire, and dry off." "but how about matches--larry forgot to bring any, and i lost mine?" sighed jasper, dolefully. "oh! that's all right," the scout leader went on. "i've got some safe and sound in my pocket right now." "but if you're soaked through to the skin, won't the matches be done for?" asked the smaller lad, who was beginning to feel better already, now that the storm had broken, and a rift appeared in the dark clouds overhead. "i could stay in the water ten minutes, and still have matches to burn," laughed elmer, "because, you see, i make it a point to carry them in a water-proof safe that has been tested, and found all right. besides, i know how to make a fire without a solitary match, and have done it again and again." "oh! yes, to be sure, i saw you do it once!" cried larry. "you mean by use of a little bow, and a stick that turns around in a notch of some wood, don't you, elmer?" asked jasper, interested. "just that," replied the scout leader. "i might try it now, to show you fellows how it's done; only it generally takes a lot of time, you know; and the sooner we have a warm blaze after this rain stops, the better. so we'll stick to the matches this round." he was thinking of jasper, who had never been very stout or strong, and whom he could feel trembling whenever he chanced to touch the boy. excitement, and the wetting, might cause trouble, unless he found means for warming the boy up ere long. by degrees the wind died away completely, while the rain hardly amounted to much--in fact, what water fell was now the drippings from the trees overhead. "come, let's get a move on us," said elmer, as he started to climb out of the depression behind the upturned roots of the fallen oak. "wow! i'm standing in water half way to my knees!" laughed larry, to whom the affair was something like a picnic--now that they had run across one who knew how to find a way out of the labyrinth, dry their clothes, and generally create an atmosphere of cheer. "wait till i take a look in at this tree," observed elmer, hurrying around to where the broken pieces of the trunk lay. "whatever is he doing now?" asked jasper, as he saw the scout leader clawing at the heart of the fallen forest monarch. "well, i rather think he's getting some dry wood out of that log," replied the other. "i've seen him make a fire in a rain before, and that was the way he got hold of some tinder for a start. yes, there he picks up a lot, and is coming this way with it. we'll soon have a bully blaze started, and once she gets going why there's oceans of wood lying around loose here that will burn." "yes, i guess there are oceans of it; anyhow there's been enough water turned loose on it to swamp things. elmer, is there anything we can do to help?" asked jasper, eagerly. "sure there is, both of you," replied the other, readily. "get busy breaking up some of those dead limbs there. we'll need a lot soon, and besides, it's going to help warm you up. jump around, and slap your arms across your chest, jasper, just like you would do on a winter's day, if cold. here goes for a start," and as he spoke elmer applied a match to the little pile of loose dry tinder he had heaped up. a flash, and up sprang the flame, for the boy had made his preparations carefully so as not to waste a single match. one of the first tests a tenderfoot scout is put to, is to make a fire in the woods without paper, and possessing only three matches. the careless new beginner learns how to husband his resources, after he has been shown how priceless even so common a thing as a match may become, under certain conditions. when the fire had taken a good hold, other fuel was added, dry so long as it could be obtained, and then some of the wet stuff, which readily dried off and burned fiercely. "if i had only had a camp hatchet along," said elmer, as he made jasper disrobe, so as to get his clothes hanging near the blaze, "i could have done this affair up in better style; but i reckon none of us have any reason to growl at the way things are going, eh, fellows?" "well, i should say not," laughed larry, who had followed the example of the others, and was hanging his garments on convenient roots of the fallen tree, where the heat would reach them by degrees. "we're lucky all the way through, and that's a fact. it was mighty good of you to track us away up here, elmer. whatever made you do it?" "oh! i happened to have nothing to do, and while neither of you had the politeness to ask me to go along, why, i thought i'd like to know just how you made out. so i kept out of sight, and yet near enough to hear what you said lots of times. and on the whole you did pretty well, fellows. you can't expect to learn everything about woodcraft at once, you know; and the time i was up in the canada bush gave me a long start over the rest of the bunch." he did not want to confess that he had been a little worried lest the two ambitious scouts get lost in those great woods lying northwest of hickory ridge; but such was really the case. and as subsequent events proved, his fears had after all not been groundless. while their clothes were steaming and drying the boys jumped around, and managed between thus exercising themselves, and keeping fairly near the blaze, to ward off any chilliness; for after the storm the air had become remarkably cool. "there's the blooming old sun peeking out!" declared larry, presently. "for goodness' sake don't scare it off," said jasper, who was now busily engaged getting inside his clothes. "oh! say, look here, somebody's changed with me." "what's the matter?" asked elmer; although he gave larry a wink as he spoke, as if he knew very well what ailed the other. "why, i've got the wrong trousers, that's what! they look like they'd been made for my younger brother," complained jasper; then seeing larry smiling he continued: "now, what are you grinning at, larry? trying to play a joke on me, are you?" "well, since both of us are a heap bigger than you, whose clothes d'ye think you've got hold of anyway, eh?" demanded larry. "fact is, they've shrunk, that's all. had 'em too near the fire, after being wet. they'll stretch again in time, jasper. mine are in the same fix, you see." amid considerable merriment then, the three scouts finished dressing. "i'll never forget this, never," declared jasper, after he had completed this operation in the best way possible. "and just think what a fix we'd still be in if elmer here hadn't taken a notion to look us up!" observed larry. "it's a fine thing to have a scout leader, who feels a personal interest in his men. because, honest injun, i don't yet know in just which way home lies. that's about west over there, because the sun is heading yonder; but where's hickory ridge?" "give it up," said jasper, shaking his head as though the problem were too much for him. "i'm like you, larry; i know the cardinal points of the compass only because the sun happens to be shining now. when it was dark i couldn't have told north from south." "well, you must get over that failing," declared elmer, positively. "now, just take a good look at all these forest trees; you notice that nearly every one has a certain amount of green moss, as we call it, on one side, and also that it decorates the same side of every tree!" "sure enough it is, elmer; and if a fellow only knew _which_ side, he could always find out how he stood," cried jasper. "in nine cases out of ten that moss is on the north side of the tree. if it varies at all, it will be found on the northwest bark. remember that, fellows, and you need never want for a compass when in the woods," suggested elmer. "well, now," remarked larry, chuckling, "what a couple of silly geese we were after all, jasper, to think of coming away up here in the woods, and never carry even a compass." "that's a fact," replied the one addressed, with a sickly grin; "but the trouble with us, larry, was our being so dead sure we knew all about it. after this i'm going to buy a neat little trick of a compass, and carry it along with me. honest, now, i never knew it was so easy to get twisted around. some day i'll turn up missing on my way to school." "here's a compass, all right; i seldom go without one," remarked elmer; "though it's mighty seldom a fellow, who is wide awake, would ever need such a thing where the trees grow. now, out on those tremendous prairies where hundreds of miles of open country surround you on every side, and one section looks exactly like another, it's a different question." "i've heard it said that a fellow can use his watch, if he's got one, for a compass; how about that, elmer?" asked larry. "it's a fact," replied the scout leader, "though i don't ever remember of being put to that test. still, i can explain just how it's done, though we haven't time right now to take the matter up. i reckon we'd better be heading toward home." "that suits me to a dot," declared jasper, cheerfully. he was feeling quite chipper after the recent terrifying experience. in a great measure it had done the boy good. his confidence had been strengthened, and in many ways jasper saw how necessary it was in times of emergency to retain both determination and assurance. they were soon walking briskly through the woods, with elmer promising that in a short time he would surely take his comrades to the road over which they could make their way to hickory ridge. "i've got a little news for both of you," said the scout leader of the wolf patrol, as they journeyed on, chattering like so many jackdaws. "i hope it ain't bad news then?" remarked jasper. "that remains to be proven," elmer continued, gravely. "it may turn out good or bad, as happens to enter the active mind of one matt tubbs." "oh! the bully of fairfield--the fellow who did more to break up the baseball games with our rival town than all other causes bunched together. now, what under the sun has fighting matt gone and done, elmer?" demanded larry, eagerly. "well," replied the scout leader, calmly, "what do you expect, but get in line, and organize a new and rival troop of boy scouts!" chapter iii. more rumblings of coming trouble. "whew! you don't say!" exclaimed larry, frowning. "takes my breath away, that's what!" gasped jasper. "seems to me that both of you look on the event in the light of what my chum, mark cummings, would term a _catastrophe_!" chuckled elmer. "well, i know that matt pretty well," grumbled larry. "to tell the truth, him and me have had more'n a few battles inside the last five years. and i owe more'n one black eye to his way of carrying his fists. if matt tubbs has gone and organized a gang of scouts it spells trouble with a big, big t for our fellows. huh!" "see here, why do you call the new troop a 'gang'? is that respectful, and the way to treat fellow scouts?" laughed elmer. "you know just as well as i do, elmer," went on the indignant larry, "that with such a bully as matt tubbs at the head of it, no collection of scouts could ever get a charter from headquarters. why, the tough crowd he trains with couldn't begin to subscribe to the twelve cardinal laws of the organization." "well, it makes me smile," said jasper, though in reality he looked disgusted. "think of matt tubbs, the bully who uses more hard words than any fellow i ever ran across, promising these things: to be trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient to authority, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and last of all but hardest for matt, reverent! oh! my, the world will come to an end before tough matt can hold up his hand in a scout salute, and solemnly say that he believes in that list." "it does seem next to impossible," remarked elmer; "and yet sometimes miracles happen even in these days, fellows. who knows but what we hickory ridge scouts may be given the chance, and the privilege as well, to open the eyes of matt tubbs?" "that would sure be a miracle!" scoffed larry, who believed that he ought to know the subject of their talk better than elmer, since the latter had not been living in the neighborhood more than a year or so, having come with his father from canada, where mr. chenowith had had charge of a great ranch and farm. "all right, we'll wait and see," elmer went on, evenly. "anyhow, i've had the news straight that they have two patrols enlisted, of eight fellows each. that is doing better than the hickory ridge scouts; because up to now our patrols are not completed, there being but six in each." "say, that's always been a puzzle to me, why jack armitage and nat scott were left out to start a new patrol to be called the eagle," remarked jasper. "i thought you knew about it," replied elmer. "but you must have been absent at the time it was talked over. you see, it's hardest to find fellows qualified to be scout leaders, and assistant leaders. plenty of raw recruits can be enlisted on the other hand. myself and mark happened to be selected for the first patrol, and matty eggleston, with red huggins, came along and qualified for the second. that gave us just six members for each patrol, you see." "yes, i'm following you, elmer; please go on," said jasper, eagerly. "it just happened that the next two boys to enlist were jack and nat, both of whom knew considerable about woodcraft, and were ambitious to learn more. when mr. garrabrant and myself talked it over--for i was a duly appointed assistant scout-master by that time, you know--we concluded that it would be wise to start a third patrol, with those two fellows at the head, and after that fill up our three patrols to the limit of eight each." "thank you, elmer; i get on to it now," jasper remarked. "and i understand that several good fellows have applied for membership in our troop?" observed larry. "yes, their names will be proposed at the next meeting, which by the way comes this very night. hope neither of you will be so leg tired that you stay away. before fall comes around the church improvements will be finished, and then we'll have a meeting room worth while. just now that old wheelwright's shop at the crossroads must serve our purpose." "oh! there, that's too bad!" suddenly ejaculated jasper, coming to a halt. "what ails him now?" larry remarked, surveying his companion queerly. "i went and forgot something; how silly of me," jasper went on. "oh! we'll agree with you, all right," grinned larry; "but suppose you tell us what it was? if you left anything back there where we hung our clothes on a hickory limb, until it looked like a regular irish washday, why, the chances are you're out that much, because i for one decline to cover all that ground again." "and i wanted to know so much!" grumbled jasper, as he raised one of his feet and rubbed his shoe regretfully. elmer watched his actions and smiled. evidently he had guessed what was on the other's mind. "perhaps i might tell you what it was, jasper," he said, quietly. "i wish you would, elmer," cried the other. "did you peek in, and see him? and was it a great big black bear, or a savage bobcat?" "neither, i think," came the answer. "you would be pretty safe to call it a 'coon, and let it go at that." "what, only a pesky little raccoon, and to pitch in for me like that?" cried the other. "why, i thought he was going to chew me all to pieces, and i was sure it must be a wildcat at least." "that may have been because you were excited," the scout leader pursued; "and i've no doubt but what the rascal clawed at you, and used his sharp teeth pretty freely, because he was badly frightened and concerned. even a rat will fight when at bay. and he thought you were coming in to get him." "but how do you know it was a raccoon?" demanded jasper. "i saw his tracks near the log, in a spot where the rain hadn't washed them out," elmer went on. "oh!" jasper laughed, "i forgot that you showed us how different the tracks of wildcats, raccoons, mink, possums, and muskrats were. i saw it at the time, but just now they're all alike 'coons to me. but elmer, i'm going to study up on that subject. it seems to grip me more'n anything else about the scout business, except p'raps that injun picture writing. i liked that; and me to be an artist. i can draw, if i can't excel in other things." "but when you get to drawing remember that every picture has got to tell a story, so plain and simple that a child can read it. that's the beauty of indian picture writing. but look, fellows, what's ahead!" elmer pointed as he spoke, and the other scouts gave a hearty cheer. "the road!" cried larry. "now things look promising," jasper observed; "and the walking will be easier. but speaking of shoes, i suppose those scratches on mine will prove my little yarn about the hollow log, when i tell it to the bunch. if they try to make out i'm stretching things, you fellows have just got to back me up." "so long as you stick to facts we will," remarked larry; "but take care you don't go to calling it a bobcat, or a tiger. i'll throw up my hands at that." "a scout is truthful, even if it doesn't say anything about that in the twelve articles we subscribe to," remarked jasper, solemnly. "yes," elmer broke in, "and now that jasper knows it was only a 'coon that had its den in that hollow log, he will never try to say it was a wildcat; though if he wants he can declare he _thought_ at the time he was being attacked by a panther." "i somehow can't help thinking of that matt tubbs," larry observed, after they had been tramping along the road for half an hour or more, and had covered nearly two miles of the five separating them from hickory ridge. "yes," elmer admitted, "i suppose there'll be more or less talk about him to-night at the meeting. now, if his crowd only went into this thing the right way, what great times we could have competing with the fairfield troop! but as it is, as they find themselves debarred from becoming affiliated with the regular boy scout organization, i'm afraid matt and his cronies will try to take it out on us, by giving us all the trouble they can." "why, i wouldn't put anything past that mean chap," declared jasper. "it does seem as though matt didn't have any redeeming qualities about him," remarked elmer, thoughtfully; "and yet, fellows, do you remember that just one year ago when a house burned over at fairfield, who was it dashed recklessly into the building, when even the regular fire laddies held back, and pulled an old woman out alive? seems to me that was matt tubbs, queer though it sounds." "right you are, elmer," admitted larry. "we all wondered about it at the time, and were beginning to think matt might be turning over a new leaf, but the next time we met him he was just the same nasty scrapper as ever." "and you know," went on jasper, "it turned out that the old woman was his grandmother, and not a stranger." "all the better," said elmer, stoutly. "it proves that matt must have had some human feeling in that tough heart of his, to risk his life for an old and infirm woman. but listen, fellows, i thought i heard somebody shouting!" the three scouts stood still, and strained their ears. "oh! help! help! won't somebody come to help us?" came a wailing cry, in what seemed to be a woman's voice. "goodness gracious!" exclaimed jasper, "somebody's in a peck of trouble right around that bend in the road there!" "yes, and i remember there was a house along here somewhere," larry cried, as the three of them started on a sprint along the road. when presently they turned the bend they came upon a scene that gave them a severe shock. and even jasper forgot all his recent thrilling experiences in the warm impulse of his boyish heart to prove of some assistance to those who seemed in such dire need of aid. chapter iv. first aid to the injured. apparently the storm that had so lately passed over this section had played particular havoc with the farm buildings. perhaps, with the queer, jumping movements known to cyclones, it had dipped down in this one quarter much more severely than anywhere else near by. at any rate, it had succeeded in partly demolishing a barn, scattered several tons of fine hay--that year's crop--and upset things generally. the first thing the scouts noticed after that one glance around at the damage done by the gale, was that a little group of persons seemed to be hovering over a certain spot. "somebody hurt by the storm!" elmer called over his shoulder, for, being a good runner, he had easily taken the lead--jasper was not so very strong, while larry happened to be built much too stockily for a sprinter. then the boys received another shock. one of those bending over had straightened up, and proved to be a stout-looking boy, with a bold, resolute face. perhaps jasper may have been reminded of the old saying he had heard quoted in his home many times: "speak of an angel, and you'll feel his wings;" only no one who knew matt tubbs would ever dream of comparing that quarrelsome youth with a celestial visitor; in fact, their thoughts would be more apt to go out in the other direction. two women were wringing their hands, and crying. a man lay upon the ground, and his groans told that he was suffering considerable bodily pain. "don't i wish ted burgoyne was along!" exclaimed elmer involuntarily, as he hurried toward the group. the boy mentioned belonged to the wolf patrol. he seemed to possess a natural fancy for surgery, and had long ago been dubbed dr. ted by his mates. and in numerous instances had he proved that their confidence in him was not misplaced. that was why elmer now felt keen regret because of a lost opportunity for the young boy scout medicine man to show his skill at setting broken bones, or binding up other injuries almost as well as any experienced physician could have done. elmer himself had made it a point to know something about such things. he had in the past lived a wild life out in the great canada wilderness, where men, and boys, too, find it necessary to depend upon themselves in great emergencies. although he feared he might be somewhat clumsy, and certainly lacked the natural talent ted burgoyne had always shown, the scout leader was only too willing to do whatever lay in his power to alleviate suffering. in another moment he was leaning over the stricken man, whom he now recognized as a middle-aged farmer, simon kent by name. the women, wife and daughter of the farmer, had looked up eagerly as matt seemed to speak of the coming of others on the scene. then their faces grew blank again with despair. for what could a trio of mere boys do, when a doctor was needed so badly? "oh! matt, find the horse if you can, and hurry to town for dr. cooper! he couldn't have run very far away!" the older woman was saying, doubtless referring to the horse, and not the well-known hickory ridge physician. "please wait just a minute or so, and let me take a look at mr. kent," said elmer, modestly. "i happen to know a little about these things, you see, ma'am; and i've set more than one broken limb." the women stopped wailing for a time, and watched the confident boy as he carefully examined the groaning farmer. "how did it happen?" asked larry of matt tubbs, who apparently must be some relative of the kents, as the woman seemed to know him very well. "storm blew the roof off'n the barn, and he got caught. any feller with peepers in his head ought tuh see that," replied young tubbs, between whom and larry there had always been bad blood. elmer looked up and smiled in the faces of the two frightened women. he knew they needed encouragement, and that he could not do them a greater benefit than to allay their fears. "he has a broken arm," he said, reassuringly, "and i think a couple of his ribs are fractured, mrs. kent; but besides that there are only a few bruises, and they do not amount to much. nothing very serious, understand. mr. kent isn't going to die. but i guess he'd better have the doctor here as soon as matt can ride to town. i'll do what i can in the meantime, ma'am." matt tubbs had been watching what he did with apparently the greatest curiosity. he was utterly ignorant himself about everything that pertained to first aid to the injured, and perhaps never before had felt so utterly insignificant as when he saw elmer chenowith go about the duties of a doctor with such calm assurance. jasper had run off in obedience to a request from the scout leader, and now returned with some cold water. when elmer had dashed a little of this in the face of the farmer, the injured man came to his senses. his groans ceased, though they could see from the expression on his rugged face that he was suffering severely. "it's all right, mr. kent," elmer hastened to say in that convincing way of his, as the farmer looked at him inquiringly. "you've got a broken arm, and perhaps a couple of your ribs are out of the running for a while, but you'll pull through all to the good. i'm going to do what i can while matt rides off for dr. cooper." "oh! it's you, elmer, is it?" said the man, faintly. "but how d'ye know i ain't got my death in that wreck of my barn? i feel like i'd been through a threshing machine; on'y my left arm is numb." "i've had some experience with these things, mr. kent, up in canada. besides, sir, we belong to the boy scouts movement, and one of the things taught there is what we call 'first aid to the injured.' i could set your arm all right, but since the doctor can get here soon, i'd better leave it for him. he mightn't like my meddling too much with his practice. will you ask matt to please find the horse, and start for town?" "oh! i'm agoin', all right," said that worthy, arousing himself; for he had been staring at elmer all this while, and listening to what he said about the obligations of the scouts in time of need, as though he might be hearing something that astonished him. he glanced back several times as he walked away to look for the horse, that was doubtless in some corner of the lot beyond the demolished barns. "got something to think over, i reckon," grunted larry, who had closed up like a clam when matt answered his civil question so roughly. shortly afterward they heard a shout. then matt dashed past, riding bareback on the horse, and using the halter to guide him along the road. he went flying toward town, and they knew he would send the doctor before a great while. "here, fellows, mr. kent ought to be carried into the house," said elmer, turning to his chums. "we've got to make a litter to lay him on. come over here with me, and we'll knock one together in a jiffy." "sure we will!" declared larry, who had a warm heart, even though a bit inclined to quarrel at times, being quick-tempered. there was plenty of material lying around; the storm had seen to that when it tore things loose on the kent farm. and presently the scouts came back with some boards forming a very fair litter. elmer had covered it with several horse blankets he discovered in the partly demolished barn. but the farmer was getting back his strength again. he shook his head at sight of the litter, and a slight smile appeared on his face, much to the joy of his sadly frightened wife and daughter. "i reckon i ain't so bad off as to need that, elmer," he remarked. "now, if so be ye boys draw around, and take care not to handle that left arm too rough, p'raps i could manage to get up. arter that, with some help, i'll hobble to the house. don't ye look so peaked, wife; i'm better'n ten dead men yet." they helped him to rise, and then, leaning on elmer, with the others following close behind, eager to assist, they made their way slowly to the farm building. "oh! what would we have done only for the coming of you boys?" exclaimed mrs. kent, after they had managed to get the wounded farmer seated fairly comfortably in a big sleepy hollow chair. elmer was making a sling in which the broken arm could be held, to ease the pain and the strain until dr. cooper's arrival. "does this scouting teach you boys how to do that sort of thing?" asked the grown daughter, who had been watching these actions of the boys curiously. "it is one of the things we have to learn before we can hope to become first-class scouts," the boy replied. "you see, no one can ever tell when a scout may be called on to help bring back a person to life who has been nearly drowned, or to keep another from bleeding to death after being cut with an ax in camp; then besides, sometimes boys have to be rescued when they get a cramp while in swimming. and when a fellow knows how to go about these things, he may be able to help save a human life. we think it worth while." "i should say it was!" exclaimed miss kent, enthusiastically. "after this i'm going to take more interest in boys than i have. i always thought they were as much alike as peas in a pod; and perhaps i oughtn't to say it, because he's in our family, but you see, i somehow judged all boys by my cousin matt." elmer smiled. "well," he said, nodding, "i hope that when you come to look into this a little closer, miss julia, you'll understand that it stands for big things. my father says it's the greatest movement for the uplifting of american boys that ever happened, barring none. and i'm going to send you some printed matter that will tell you just what the boy scouts aim to do. when you know that, i just guess you'll find reason to change your opinion of boys." even the injured farmer had listened to what was said with a show of interest. "sho! elmer," he remarked, "i've heard a heap of this thing, and didn't take much stock in it. thought it meant the boys was goin' to be made into soldiers, and as i'm a man of peace i couldn't stand for that. on'y yesterday the dominie was tellin' me it ain't got a blessed thing to do with military tactics. and arter the able way you handled yourself to-day, blessed if i ain't agoin' to read the stuff you send julie. if i had a boy i'd like him to jine the scouts. and that's as far as i've got. but if it makes the lads clean, manly, and ekal to emergencies, like you seem to be, it's a boss thing." and elmer felt his heart glow with satisfaction, for his whole interest was by now bound up in the success of the hickory ridge troop of scouts; and anything that went to make them new friends appealed to him strongly. when half an hour had gone the sound of an automobile horn was heard out on the road. "there comes dr. cooper!" called jasper, who had been on the lookout. when the physician came bustling in he looked questioningly at the three boys. possibly matt may have told him the scouts were meddling with things, and his professional instincts were shocked. but when he saw what elmer had done, and made an examination himself, he declared that the extent of mr. kent's injuries were just as the boy had stated. "and i want to say, elmer," he added, as the boys were about to hurry away, "i believe in the first-aid-to-the-injured principle which you boys try to live up to. if more people only kept their senses about them in cases of accident, it would make easier work for the doctors, and save lots of lives. good luck to you, boys!" "and we shall never be able to tell you how thankful we all are for your coming, elmer. the first time i meet your mother, i'm going to let her know what a fine son she has," declared miss julia, as she and her relieved mother shook hands with the three scouts at the door. "i had two comrades, please remember, miss julia," said elmer, significantly; and taking the hint she repeated the words while bidding jasper and larry good-by. "well," remarked elmer, as he and his chums once more tramped along the road, "i notice that you two fellows have your badges turned upside down still, to remind you that so far to-day you've found no opportunity to do anybody a good turn. as your scout master, i want to say that you can't get them changed any too soon; for you've just been of the greatest help to the kent family!" and both larry and jasper, making the usual scout salute, with the thumb holding back the little finger of the right hand, proceeded to unfasten their badges, and replace them right side up. they had earned the privilege to wear them so for the balance of that eventful day! chapter v. the meeting in the old wagon shop. "about time to begin business, don't you think, mark?" asked elmer chenowith. "just about on the minute; and i've been counting noses, mr. scout-master; there are eighteen fellows present--not a single gap in the line," answered his chum. "that's fine. we'll get our four new members through to-night, and have two complete patrols, with a third well started. suppose you sound the assembly, mark, and we'll close the doors. while the hickory ridge troop of boy scouts doesn't pretend to be a secret society, there's no reason why we should have every tom, dick, and harry gaping in at us, and listening to all we say." elmer and his closest chum, mark cummings, were standing inside the old abandoned wagon-maker's shop that for long years had been a landmark at the crossroads just outside the town of hickory ridge. half a dozen and more lighted lanterns hanging from beams or the low rafters dissipated the darkness of the cobwebby interior; for the once busy shop had been deserted some years now. a bustling, laughing, chattering crowd of half-grown boys occupied the place; and all but four of them were clad in the customary olive drab khaki uniform of the scouts, met with in every part of this wide country, between the pacific and the atlantic, and from the great lakes of the north to the mexican gulf on the south. mark carried a bugle at his side, and was quite a genius as a musician. indeed, there were few musical instruments he could not play; and when in camp the boys looked to him to enliven the evenings around their fire with bugle, banjo, or mandolin. another member of the troop was the official drummer; but as yet he had not secured an instrument on which to sound the long roll. but they lived in hopes of soon supplying this need, as there was good money in the treasury. when the sweet, clear notes of the bugle sounded the assembly call, the chattering ceased. obedience is one of the first principles inculcated in the breast of a scout; and elmer, as the president of the association, had always insisted upon the meeting being conducted with a fair amount of decorum. first came the roll call, when it was found that every member was present, showing that the meeting was deemed an especially important one. true, several of the boys looked a bit tired, notably jasper, who had hardly been able to get out of his chair after supper, and was obliged to exert more than the ordinary amount of will power before he could reach the place of meeting. a little routine program was first of all gone through with, such as marked each meeting of the troop--a song that was patriotic in its character sung, with considerable vim, for there were some really good voices present; after which the commendable trait of patriotism was further carried along by a salute to the flag which stood at one end of the dingy old wheelwright's shop, where all eyes could fall upon its starry blue field and warm red stripes. "i'm sorry to state," said elmer, in opening the meeting, "that our capable scout-master was unable to be with us to-night, as a sudden business call took him to new york last night. so we'll have to conduct the exercises without him. and as the most important part of our meeting is the initiation of four new members who have lately expressed a desire to unite with the hickory ridge troop of boy scouts, it would be in order for a motion that we proceed immediately to complete that function." "i move, mr. president, we go about that business," suggested "lil artha" stansbury, who had curled his long legs under him, and managed to sit down on a low stool he had found somewhere; the balance of the boys being disposed of in all sorts of ways, some on worn wooden "horses," others on blocks of wood, makeshift benches, and even on the bare ground. "thecond the motion!" cried ted burgoyne, who often lisped, though he could never be convinced of the fact, and would everlastingly and vehemently deny it when accused. of course it was quickly carried; and the usual ceremonies having been gone through with, the four applicants were declared fairly elected members of the organization. phil dale became number five and george robbins number six of the wolf patrol; while henry condit and "landy" smith filled the vacant numbers of the beaver patrol. "this makes our two patrols complete," remarked elmer. "it also increases our membership to eighteen. we need several more fellows of the right sort, and if any of you happen to know of any candidates, bring their names before the committee between now and the next regular meeting. but they must be boys of good moral character, who promise to make scouts worthy of the name." "hear! hear!" called out "red" huggins, grinning, as though he took this as a personal compliment. "we can now proceed with the regular business before us. the new members will consult with comrade merriweather about their suits. but of course they understand that every cent must have been earned before they can wear the new clothes. that is one of the things we stand for--a scout must be independent, and able to do things for himself. it tends to make him manly and reliant." "mr. president," said the secretary, who was no other than the tall "lil artha," "i would like to inform the members of hickory ridge troop that i have with me a collection of finished pictures, taken on our recent camping trip at lake solitude. some of them are rather interesting, and will serve to revive pleasant, or unpleasant, memories. they can be seen after the meeting closes. please excuse me for not rising, mr. president. fact is, i don't believe i could without help, for it seems as if my lower extremities had become locked." there were numerous snickers at this, for it was a failing of the good-natured "lil artha" to get his long legs twisted in a knot; though, when he once started running, he could cover the ground at an amazing pace. "i understand," remarked matty eggleston, the leader of the beaver patrol, getting up so suddenly from the swaying bench upon which he had been seated that it tilted the remaining three scouts backward, and deposited them on the ground, to the amusement of the assemblage--"i understand," he went on, not disturbed by the tragic occurrence, as the boys scrambled up, and began to brush themselves off, "that several of our number met with an interesting experience to-day while off on a hike. the rest of us would like very much to hear an account of what happened." "yes! yes! tell us the story, mr. president! we all want to know!" came from a dozen of the lads, in one breath. elmer smiled encouragingly. "if some one puts that in the form of a motion, and it is carried, perhaps between comrades larry, jasper, and myself we might be able to spin the little yarn," he remarked. needless to say the motion was carried unanimously. "mr. president," said larry, who was number six of the beavers, "i suggest that you give your version of the little adventure. if necessary, jasper and myself can dip in, and add some touches to it from time to time." nothing loath, for he had an object in letting the new recruits see what splendid chances there were for _doing things_ in the scout organization, both for themselves and others, the acting scout-master started to tell how larry and jasper had conceived a laudable ambition to test their knowledge of woodcraft, and started out with the idea of putting it to the trial. he pointed out their mistakes, and showed where they could have avoided them. he commended their pluck, and as he described the storm in the big timber more than a few of the listening boys fairly quivered with excitement. in imagination they could almost hear the terrific thunder, and see the giant trees swaying in the howling wind. after elmer had brought out a number of points that would serve as a valuable lesson to the tenderfoot scouts, and which he wanted to sink into their minds, he presently carried the story to the final stage by telling about their arrival at the farmhouse, where they found the family in great distress, and in need of help. he made a particular point of telling how helpless matt tubbs had seemed, simply because he had never been instructed in the principles of "first aid to the injured"; and went on to show how very important it was for every true scout to know what to do in an emergency where human life was in peril. when, finally, elmer finished, there was a hearty cheer from the assembled lads. a number of questions were asked, which either the acting scout-master or one of his mates answered. "but perhaps another time, comrades, matt tubbs may not feel so helpless as he did to-day," elmer went on to say. "the fever has reached fairfield, and we hear they are trying to organize a troop of scouts there, with matt at the head. let us hope, fellows, that when the fairfield troop becomes a fact, there may be a chance for the hickory ridge boys to renew their old-time rivalry with the neighboring town. for the rowdy spirit will have to give way to order and decency before matt tubbs and his cronies ever find themselves accepted as boy scouts." "they never will do it!" cried ty collins, who had been the chief cook of the troop while in camp, and was known as one of the best athletes in hickory ridge. "that's what i was saying to elmer," echoed larry billings. "oh! well, you never can tell," laughed the leader. "i sometimes think none of us know just what matt tubbs might do, if once he took a notion to turn over a new leaf." "oh! he's just a regular bully, and that's all there is about it!" cried nat scott. "i hope you won't say that again, nat," remarked elmer. "i know on the face of things people around hickory ridge think that, because matt always started trouble when the two towns used to be rivals on the gridiron and the diamond. but over in fairfield, fellows, they're not quite so sure about it. perhaps all of you don't know that when a house burned down, and the firemen were afraid to rush in to save an old and infirm woman who was known to be inside, matt tubbs took his life in his hands _and got her out_! it was his own grandmother, but that makes no difference. i say that the fellow who would do that can't be all wrong; that he must have a spark, and a pretty big one, too, of decency in his make-up. those are just the kind of fellows this scout movement can help. and i believe that if once they _change about and face the other way_, they're bound to make the best of scouts. let's give matt tubbs a fair and square chance to make good!" considerable talk followed. some of the boys were farsighted enough to grasp what elmer believed so firmly. others shook their heads in doubt. they fancied they knew matt tubbs like a book. he was no coward, they admitted such a fact, but as for him ever being able to subscribe to the twelve cardinal principles of a scout, why it was absurd; impossible! "water will run up-hill before that miracle ever happens!" declared toby jones, the boy who was forever dreaming about doing wonderful stunts with a flying machine which he expected some day to invent. "i have no particular use foh the gentleman, suh!" remarked chatz maxfield, whose manners and ways of expressing himself easily betrayed his southern birth. so the meeting progressed, and was finally brought to a conclusion. then there was considerable merriment as the scouts clustered about "lil artha," the official photographer, as he passed around some scores of splendidly executed prints. quite a number of these were gems of art, and represented natural scenery around the mountain lake where the camp had been located. others elicited roars of laughter, for arthur had snapped off some pictures that perpetuated scenes of a comical nature. the boys were enjoying the treat heartily, laughing, bandying remarks, poking fun at the victims who were now held up to public view, and mingling with perfect freedom, as the meeting had been adjourned, when something certainly not down on the bills came to pass. it was as unexpected as a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. the photographer of the troop was gathering his pictures together, and those members who had kindly furnished the lanterns so that their temporary meeting-place might be illuminated in a seemly manner, were starting to secure their property, when, without any warning, there sounded a tremendous crash. "what's that?" cried half a dozen of the scouts, as they looked at one another in dismay. "i know!" shouted jack armitage, whose father owned the old smithy; "we've been spied on by some sneak; and he fell down off that rotten loft yonder. there he goes, fellows! after the spy!" chapter vi. the little red button. a scene of commotion immediately followed these startling words of jack armitage. there was a rush for the exit, and in the confusion, just as might have been expected, the scouts became wedged in the doorway, so that there was a brief delay in gaining the open air. shouts outside presently told that some of the wiser ones had avoided this combined rush, and sought the open air by the same means taken by the unknown. they had just glimpsed some dim figure amid the cloud of dust that followed the breaking down of the frail floor of the little platform at the rear of the shop. it had vanished through some hole; possibly a board or two had been previously loosened with the idea of a hasty flight in case of discovery, to avoid unpleasant consequences. elmer and his chum, mark cummings, had not taken part in either the crush at the door, or the swift passage through the rear opening. "well, what d'ye think of that?" demanded mark, turning to his chum, as the last of the jam at the door was broken, allowing the struggling scouts a chance to get through. elmer was laughing. "some of those fellows will feel a little sore after that football rush," he remarked; "you noticed that the wise ones chased after 'lil artha.' he was quick to see that there would be a crush at the door, and he went after the fellow, who lit out by the way of the back part of the shop. here, let's take a look and see." picking up a lantern, he led the way to where they discovered a hole in the board wall of the place. two of the shrunken boards had been lately wrenched loose; a very easy task indeed, for the old place was pretty near the point of ruin. "looks like he might have fixed it for use in case he wanted to vamoose in a big hurry," said mark, after they had examined the boards. "perhaps he did," elmer remarked. "did you get a look at the chap, mark? it just happened that some one stood between me and this part of the shop, and i couldn't see much more'n a lot of dust." "same here," laughed the other. "my! what a lot of dust he did stir up. i feel like i'm going to sneeze right now," which he proceeded to do with great vigor, to the amusement of his friend. "listen to the racket the boys are making out there," he observed, as shouts came floating in to them. "sounds like they were chasing after something," mark went on, after listening. "wonder if they can grab the fellow." "perhaps you'd better call them back with your bugle. no use breaking up in such a disorderly way. and if he's given them the slip up to now, they won't be able to find him in the dark. step outside and sound the recall, mark." so the bugler hastened to obey orders, and the clear, penetrating notes of the signal floated near and far in the night air. "anybody could hear that a mile away, i guess," remarked the one who had sent forth the recall. "i suppose every scout will know what it means and come back?" "well, that would be queer if they didn't," declared elmer. "here comes a bunch right now, talking and arguing over the mysterious happening. all sorts of ideas will be given, and we ought to try and find out the truth." "what do you think?" asked mark, pointedly. "was it a hobo who had been sleeping here in the old shop? i've heard jack say his father threatened to burn the shanty down because complaints came in about it being a lodging place for tramps." "yes," replied elmer, who looked serious, "i've heard the same thing. but between you and me, mark, i've got my suspicions that it couldn't have been just a common hobo." "what makes you think that?" asked his chum. "oh! several things. i don't see why a tramp would go to all the bother to climb up on that old shelf or loft, when he could just as well stay right here on the ground, and make a fire in the regular place, so as to cook his supper. then no tramp would have lain there all that time without making a sound. besides, you remember we made up our minds that the boards had been loosened in the back of the shop, so they could be knocked off with a single kick. that would point to strategy--making ready for a sudden get-away." "elmer, you're right, i do believe, as you nearly always are," said mark, as if what his comrade said had sunk with conviction into his mind. "but here come the boys. let's find out what they think about it." "yes," continued the acting scout-master, "perhaps they've sighted the fellow, and can tell us who he was." but this proved not to be the case. those who had followed "lil artha" through the opening in the rear of the shop declared that the fugitive must have had the wings of the wind, for though they had chased after him, he managed to give them the slip. possibly the long-legged arthur might have been more successful, had he been given daylight to enable him to see where he was going; but at the time the bugle sounded the retreat they had not been able to cut down the other's lead. nor could they tell what he looked like. "some stray wandering willie, sure as you're born," declared toby jones, who was panting at a great rate after his chase. "and if we'd only been able to come up with him, wouldn't he have got it?" remarked red huggins, ferociously. "alas! i was cheated out of a thlick job, that's what, fellowth," lamented dr. ted, whose sole ambition it was to run across "opportunities" to experiment with his knowledge of medicine, or attempt simple surgical operations. "see here, you're only guessing when you say it was a hobo; what proof is there of such a thing?" demanded elmer. "hey, what's that?" exclaimed "lil artha," staring at the acting scout-master. "that's exactly what i was saying to chatz as we were prancing along back here," larry billings remarked, nodding his head as if he agreed with elmer. "some think it was a tramp, and the rest say it was a spy. now, how are we going to prove it?" asked tom cropsey. "let elmer tell what he thinks, fellows," mark observed. "he convinced me right off the reel, and perhaps he can the rest of the bunch." "yes, elmer, it's up to you to make good. tell us what you know. we're wanting to learn all the tricks of a scout who keeps his eyes always open, and sees the little things that count. please tell us!" so, beset from every side, elmer had to bow to the popular will. after he had explained how several strong points seemed to dispose of the theory of a tramp having been hidden in the loft of the deserted wheelwright's shop, he saw that he had carried pretty much all his audience with him. the scouts hung on his every word, for they understood that elmer had passed through considerable experience while out on that big canada ranch and farm with his father, and knew how to read signs as well as any indian ever could have done. "i've just been up there and discovered how the rotten timbers gave way under the fellow," spoke up nat scott, who was known to be of a very investigating turn, and would let nothing continue to puzzle him long, if he could help it. "yes, we saw you drop down through the same hole he made," laughed ty collins. "you're covered with dust, too, nat," remarked tom cropsey. "that's a fact," grinned the investigator. elmer had his eye on him. he judged that nat must have made some sort of discovery, for he looked pleased. he also noted the fact that the other kept one hand behind him as he stood there. "you found something, didn't you, nat?" he asked, quietly. "well, sure thing," remarked the other; though he looked somewhat surprised at elmer being able to discover this fact so readily. "which you're hiding behind you right now, i opine," continued the scout-master. "that's what he is, elmer!" declared several of the other scouts. "did you find it on the ground among those broken pieces of flooring?" asked elmer, pointedly. nat nodded his head rigorously, but he made no effort to bring his right hand out from behind his back. "perhaps now," continued the other slowly, but with a positive ring to his voice, "it might happen to be a hat or a cap you picked up?" "that's right, it's a cap," broke in jasper merriweather, who had slipped behind nat, and glimpsed at what he was trying to keep hidden. "wait, i'm going to turn my back on you, nat, while you hold it up so all the rest can see. now, out with it. take a good look, fellows. jasper said it was a cap. does it belong to anybody here?" "why, we've all got our regular scout hats, except the four new members, and every one of them has a cap on his head right now!" declared jack armitage. "just so," elmer continued. "that settles one thing; this cap you picked up must belong to the fellow who ran away, after listening to all we did at our meeting! take a good look at that cap, nat. is it a sort of mixed gray in color and pretty well worn?" "say, that's what it just is now, elmer," replied the other in surprise. "and has it got a red button fastened in front just over the peak?" "hey, listen to him tell, will you, fellows. here's the red button all right." "then the mystery is solved," laughed elmer; "for that cap belongs to a certain boy we happen to know right well; and his name is matt tubbs!" chapter vii. a job for the boy scouts to do. "what makes you so sure about that, elmer?" asked ty collins, after the scouts had expressed their wonder that the leader should be able to speak so positively when as yet he had not even looked at the tell-tale cap. "listen, fellows," began elmer; "all of you older scouts know that one of the things impressed upon a new beginner is the power of observation. members of the organization are given tests at memorizing things they see in a store window, after looking in for just three minutes, and then writing out a list afterward. in that way they find it second nature to note everything they see, so that if asked about it afterward they are able to give a pretty good description even of little details. i'm saying this more for the benefit of the new members than anything else, you understand?" "sure we do, elmer; go right along, please," remarked ty. "all right," continued the leader, impressively; "but it seems that every one of the scouts doesn't happen to apply those principles of observation and memory as much as he might. now, to make my point plain, there were two of you with me to-day when we came on the kent house, where we found things upset by the storm. and i suppose both of those scouts had just as many chances to look matt tubbs over as i did; yet it seems that neither larry nor jasper noticed that he wore a pair of worn tan shoes, had on brown trousers that had been patched in the seat; sported a new flannel shirt made of some rather flashy material that carried a good deal of red in it; wore a sporty tie of the same color; and had a gray cap on his head, with a little red button just over the peak!" exclamations of surprise broke out all around the speaker. "say, do you mean to tell us you noticed all those details, and right while we were all excited over the injuries of the farmer?" gasped larry. "i always said there was only one elmer chenowith," murmured jasper, throwing up both hands, as though convinced. "why, there was nothing queer about that," laughed the acting scout-master. "as i told you just now, it grows to be second nature, after you've practiced the thing for a while. but did i prove my point, fellows?" "you certainly did!" declared jack armitage. "and do any of you still have any doubt about who it was hiding away on that rotten old shelf up there, and listening to all we did?" continued elmer. "i don't think you'd find any scout here willing to say a contrary word, after the way you clinched things," remarked matty eggleston. "and you believe that was our old enemy, matt tubbs?" elmer went on. "no other fellow could have made so quick a get-away," remarked red huggins, as he shook his fiery head in a convincing way. "mebbe i haven't seen him spin down from first base many a time, and get there at second long ahead of the ball. he can run some, that matt tubbs can. even lil artha will admit that." "but whatever made him hide here?" queried chatz maxfield. "why, that's as plain as the nose on your face, chatz," broke out larry. "i'd thank you, suh, to make no personal allusions to my features," the hot-tempered southern lad broke in. "oh! i didn't mean anything by that," laughed larry. "but what else would tempt matt tubbs to hide in here, except that he was aching to watch our meeting, and find out how we did things. he reckoned we wouldn't be so obliging as to ask him to be present, and as he's starting a troop over in fairfield, he wants to know how to run things, so he can have the track greased." "well, he heard some straight-out talk, then, that ought to do him a heap of good," remarked matty. "aw! nothing would ever do that chump good; he's a bad egg all over. like as not he was just itching to do something to give us a big scare. say, perhaps he smashed that loft down on purpose to frighten us!" it was tom cropsey who offered this rather startling suggestion; but the balance of the scouts were disposed to make light of his idea. "i don't think," jeered red. "matt tubbs is tricky and bold, but no one ever called him a fool, and that's what he would be if he broke that loft down on purpose, and took that tumble. why, he might have broken his neck!" "never!" exclaimed toby. "when a feller is born to be hung he could drop from the top of the highest tree, and never feaze his neck." "toby knows, fellows," sang out red. "believe him, he's a living example of the truth of that old saying. you remember, some of you, how he fell off the roof of the church that night, a year ago, when we were trying to get in the belfry to ring the bell? some fellows would have had half a dozen of their slats caved in, even if they saved their neck. what happened to toby? why, he dropped into that big bunch of cedars and only had a few scratches to show for it. yes, stake your faith on toby; he knows what he's talking about." of course shouts told that the boys appreciated getting this one on toby, who contented himself with shaking his fist at red, and grinning. "but perhaps we don't all believe the same way," elmer remarked, after the clamor had died away, and all eyes were turned again on him. "tell us what you think, elmer?" asked several. "let us take it for granted then," said the scout-master, "that the spy was matt, and that he deliberately hid in the old shop for the purpose of watching what we did; how do we know that he had any real mean object in view? at the best it has been only guess work, founded on his bad reputation." "that counts for a heap, i've found, to my cost," declared red, who for years had been unusually fond of practical jokes and pranks, and several times floundered in hot water because of this failing. "well, all i can say is this," elmer continued; "if matt tubbs, or any other of the fairfield boys, took the trouble to walk all the way over from his home this evening, four miles and more, just to get a chance to hide here, and see what we did, he must be head over ears in earnest in what he's got afoot. and, fellows, we happen to know that means the new troop fairfield is trying to organize." some nodded, as if he had carried them with him; a few shook their heads, meaning to imply that their distrust of the bully of fairfield was so deep-seated that they would have to be given stronger evidence than this if they were expected to come around to elmer's way of thinking. "well," the leader went on, "we may never know the facts, but this i say, that if matt tubbs is trying to make a start along the right lines, we ought to do anything in our power to help him. and if the chance opens, i promise you i'm going to do that same thing, and not throw sticks in his way." "hear! hear! that's the kind of talk that tells, elmer!" cried mark. elmer had managed to secure possession of the cap that had been found. he showed no manifestation of giving it back again, and from the way he presently thrust the thing in one of the pockets of his khaki coat, it was evident that he had use for it. none of the boys who noted this act thought it strange. elmer frequently did things that might not seem clear to them on the surface, but they knew him well enough by this time to feel confident that there was a motive worth while back of the act, and which in good time would be made plain. the meeting soon broke up, the scouts heading toward the town of hickory ridge, in regular formation of twos, with elmer and his closest chum, mark, heading the line. by degrees their number lessened as a boy would drop out here, and another there, when the nearest point to their several homes was reached. "we had a fine meeting, eh, mark?" said elmer, as the two stood for a few minutes on a corner ere separating. "a dandy meeting," was the reply, given enthusiastically, and with boyish vim. "the addition of the four new recruits," elmer went on, "fills out our two patrols to their limit, and now we can begin to drum up new names for the eagle. by fall we ought to have six more good fellows come around, and finish that patrol." "mr. garrabrant will be pleased when he comes back and learns what we've done," mark chuckled, as if he himself were greatly overjoyed. "that's so, because he's got the good of the troop at heart," said the leader of the wolf patrol, earnestly. "we're lucky to have such a wide-awake scout-master as mr. garrabrant. a whole lot depends on what kind of a man is in charge of the troop. they say, you know, mark, 'as the twig's inclined the tree is bent'; and in most cases you can judge the kind of troop by the caliber of the scout-master. if he's weak there can be no order kept up. if he's too severe the boys will rebel. i reckon it takes a mighty smart man to handle twenty or thirty lively boys, and get out the best they have in them." "i've often thought of that, elmer. i like to study people, you remember. and i think all of our boys like mr. garrabrant the best kind. going to bed now? well, good night. see you to-morrow, if we get together, a dozen of us, for that little hike." and separating, the two chums headed for their several homes. on the following day elmer, upon arriving at a place of meeting in the morning, somewhere in the neighborhood of nine o'clock, found a group of his fellow scouts anxiously awaiting his coming. most of them had come direct from home, and each carried the staff that was supposed to be of more or less help to the owner while on the road. this was just six feet in length, stout, and in some instances made of bamboo, and in others of clear ash; marked off in feet and inches so that it could be used also for measuring distances, being two meters in length, and with a grip for the hand midway between the ends. "just ten here," remarked elmer, after he had counted the khaki-clad boys. "all who volunteered for the hike but one, and he, red huggins, usually as prompt a fellow as there is in the troop, but behind time for once." "going to wait for him?" demanded one of the others, impatient to be off. "we'll give him the usual ten minutes allowance," replied elmer. "if he doesn't show up then, i suppose we'll have to go without him." he had noted one thing, and this was that neither of his comrades of the preceding day had shown up. but then elmer had not expected they would. practice had made him almost immune to fatigue, after a ten mile walk, but the same could not be said of larry, and especially in the case of little jasper merriweather. on the whole, considering what excitement the boys had endured on the previous day, elmer thought they had done very well. they must be feeling more or less stiff this morning, and would need a lay-off. besides, they had not promised to get around to start on this walk. impatient chatz took out a nickel watch, and began to keep tabs on the passing of those ten minutes. the rest chattered like magpies, and seemed to be pleased at the idea of having a few hours with elmer abroad. for the young leader knew so many of the secrets of the great out-doors, and was so ready to impart information to his chums, that it was really a treat to be with him. "five minutes gone, and no sign of him yet, suh!" announced the timekeeper, after a short interval, during which all eyes were turned down the road, to the corner around which it was expected the absent member would come, should he show up at all. "oh! well, there are enough of us without red; though he's always good company on a hike," remarked lil artha, who had really given up an anticipated trip in an automobile over fifty miles of territory, just to accompany elmer in his hike, so great a fascination did the new life have for the tall boy. "i thought i thaw him right then, fellows!" exclaimed dr. ted, pointing to a place where there was a gap in the trees and fences. elmer nodded encouragingly. "good for you, ted," he said. "i was wondering whether anybody would notice that the road could be seen through that little opening, and anyone coming discovered some time before he reached the corner. that was red, i do believe; for i had a glimpse of him as he passed." ted burgoyne looked satisfied. in fact, the boys had reached a point by now when words of praise from the assistant scout-master meant a whole lot to them, for it always signified that something worth while had been done. nothing more was said about it, but there was a heap of thinking done; and no doubt every fellow present was making up his mind to be more vigilant, so that he might be the next to deserve favorable notice from the leader. "you were right, ted, for there he comes now," remarked toby, as a figure came around the corner. it was red huggins, sure enough; and he seemed to be hurrying. "knows he's late, and expects to be hauled over the coals," chuckled ty collins. elmer said nothing. but he was watching the coming of the late scout with an expression of rising curiosity on his face. truth to tell, he noted something that none of the others had. red huggins looked more than "peeved" because he was arriving late at the meeting-place, when a scout is supposed to be always punctual to the minute. he was worried, worked up over something or other! "hurry up here, old molasses in winter!" called lil artha. "why, we were just going to leave you in the lurch. what sort of an excuse can you give for holding eleven comrades nearly ten minutes each? that means more'n an hour wasted. it's a crying shame, that's what!" red had by now reached them. he was panting a little, as though he might have run some distance, in order to make up for lost time. "wasn't altogether my fault, fellows," he started to explain. "oh! come now, no excuses are going to pass here!" broke in toby. "give him a chance to say what he wants to, boys," remarked elmer; and the late comer darted him a look of thanks. "i was just going to start out," red began, "when father came home. he had been out trying a new horse he bought; and at first i thought he might have had a runaway, he looked that excited. but one of our neighbors came hurrying in, saying he had just heard the news over the telephone, and asking father what it meant." "news! what's that? something happened since we left home?" and the scouts began to look at each other, while several grew a little white. "yes," red went on, rapidly; "it happened that my father was one of those who brought the news to town. i got so stuck on what they were saying that i clean forgot everything else; and that made me late. then father saw me in my scout uniform, and he said he wondered if elmer chenowith, who was so smart about following a trail, could lend a hand--that it seemed a job for the scouts, if ever there was one!" "oh! speak out, and tell us what's happened!" cried toby, catching hold of red by his sleeve and shaking him a little. "well, you know mrs. gruber, the woman who lives in that little house half a mile or so up the jericho road--she's got just one child, a little girl, with the sunniest smile and the prettiest golden hair you ever saw. well, seems like she separated from her husband, dolph gruber, because of his bad habits. father says dolph came home last night, made no end of a row, struck his wife, and went away with little ruth, saying her mother would never see her again. and that's what he meant, fellows, when he said it was a job for the scouts. elmer, do you dare tackle it, and try to get back that little girl again for her nearly crazy mother?" chapter viii. following a trail. a dead silence followed these startling words of red huggins. the party of scouts looked at one another, as though their very breath might have been taken away by the stunning news brought by the late comer. elmer was the first one to recover his wits; perhaps because his nature proved to be a bit stronger than any of the others; and then again it may have been through the fact that he had had much more experience in grappling with just such situations as the present. "that father of yours was quite right, red," he said. "the chances are this is a job just suited to the scouts. for what is the use of learning all those things about tracking through the woods, if you can't make use of them when an occasion comes along." "do we go, elmer?" demanded lil artha, eagerly, his face lighting up. "say yes, elmer!" cried the impulsive red. "oh! father declares that poor woman is nearly out of her mind with fear of what her bad husband may do with the little girl. you know it isn't his child at all, really; he is her second husband. her name used to be tubbs." "what? i didn't know that before!" exclaimed elmer, staring at the speaker. "but that won't make any difference, will it, because she happens to be some relation to matt?" asked toby. "i know the girl, ruth; and as red says, she's a little fairy, an angel. let's go, fellows!" "of course we'll go, and try to do the best we can to get back the child," elmer remarked, as he shut his teeth hard. "i've heard a good deal about this dolph gruber; and every one says he's a hard nut. but there are a dozen of us, fellows, and i reckon we ought to be a match for one coward. i call him that because none but a miserable drunkard and a coward would act as he has done, striking his wife, and carrying off her child, with such a horrible threat." "then let's be off right away," said red, in his impatient way. "fall in, and we'll go on the double-quick, up the jericho road," called elmer. mark was along, bugle and all, even though this hike which they had planned was not looked upon as a troop affair, and no one was under any compulsion to enter for the long walk. circumstances entirely unexpected had suddenly caused an entire change in their program; but accustomed to meeting emergencies as they arose, elmer was just as ready to take up the new scheme. no doubt he was more or less thrilled with pleasure to think that mr. huggins, who was quite an important man in the affairs of hickory ridge, should consider him able to grapple with this situation. others might start to scouring the surrounding country, in hopes of cutting the scoundrel off, and effecting his arrest. but if dolph gruber were as keen-witted as he was given credit for being, he would likely avoid beaten paths, and keep to the timber, thus preventing these searchers from getting in touch with him. of course elmer could hardly believe the man was bad enough to think of really injuring little ruth. he probably meant to punish his wife for refusing to longer hand over to him some of the money she received from relatives, by carrying her child away, and keeping the little girl concealed, until the mother promised to come to terms, and pay a ransom. but at the same time his act was that of a fiend; and elmer's boyish heart was filled with indignation as he in imagination could see the poor mother weeping because her little one was gone, leaving her to fear all sorts of terrible things. yes, this was surely a case for the scouts. if ever their knowledge of woodcraft promised to be of value it must be now. dolph could not go very far without leaving some sort of a trail behind him. and as he was apt to shun the roads and beaten paths through the woods, they could the easier follow him. half a mile is a very short distance when boys are in a hurry. "there's the house right now!" called out one sharp-eyed scout, suddenly. "yes, and there's a crowd of people around, too!" declared another. "must have got the news around mighty quick. say, there comes a wagon racing along from over fairfield way; and i just bet you it's got matt and his dad in it, too." "just what it has, fellows," declared ty. "looks like we were just bound to run across that matt everywhere we went, don't it? and here comes a car from hickory ridge, with a lot of people in it. looky there, some of 'em are the officers. yep, here they come right after us. make way, fellows, if you don't want to get run over!" a few minutes later, and they brought up at the cottage which had so suddenly become such a center of interest. the phone had been used from hickory ridge to inform mr. tubbs, who was a big contractor in fairfield. others had come from various neighboring homes, for it is amazing how such news flies on the wings of the wind. the boys moved around among the people for a short time. elmer made his way inside the cottage, to where he could hear the bereaved mother crying, and between sobs trying the best she could to tell just how it had happened. "if we only knew which way dolph went, we might manage to head him off," declared the police head, after a while. "oh! if you only could, how happy i would be!" mrs. gruber cried, stopping her crying to wring her hands entreatingly. "he is a bad man when he drinks; and he was in a terrible temper because i said i couldn't get him any more money--that my folks wouldn't allow me to turn over another cent to him. please start right away; and if you bring back my ruth unharmed i will pray for you every night of my whole life!" "but how are we to know which way he went?" questioned the officer. "you say he struck you, ma'am, and that you fell down almost insensible. but can you not give us some sort of clue as to which direction he took?" "yes, sir, i can," came the eager reply. "please come outside with me. you see, i seemed to recover after a little, and being almost crazy to know what he had done with my darling ruth, i managed to crawl out of the door here, though i was so dizzy i could hardly keep from falling. then i saw him carrying my child in his arms, and just disappearing in the woods over there, close to where you see that dark hemlock, under which," with another choking sob, "she used to play so often." "sure of that, are you, ma'am?" asked the man in uniform, quickly. "yes, yes, i assure you it is the exact truth, sir. under that hemlock i saw them disappear," the distracted mother cried. "i understand what he had in his mind," broke in a man. "that's a short cut to the other road that leads over to cramertown. dolph used to live there once. so of course he's heading that way." to be sure it seemed most reasonable, and not one of the men appeared to doubt the accuracy of the guess in the least. but elmer was not so sure. he knew that when a man becomes by some act of his own a fugitive from the law, he changes his ways. cramertown, then, would be one of the last places to which dolph gruber would think of fleeing, because he was well known there. "then, seems like the best thing we could do, gents," declared the officer, with a show of cunning in his manner, "would be to jump aboard the car again, and make around the road for cramertown. if he ain't there yet, perhaps he'll be along before a great while; and we can lay a trap for dolph. jump aboard, those that are going. cramertown it is, boys. and we'll bring back the little gal, sure as you're born." the car was speedily filled with eager hunters, and went spinning down the road headed for the forks some two miles away, where they could change their course, and reach the object of their ambition. some of the scouts had looked as though they wanted to accompany the party in the car, but elmer made no movement in that quarter, and so of course the others would not think of taking matters in their own hands. besides, they were anxious to see what their leader meant to do. waiting until the car and its load had vanished in a cloud of dust, elmer made a swift movement with his arm to his followers. then the entire dozen hurried off, heading exactly toward the hemlock which mrs. gruber had twice stated was the point where she had had the last glimpse of the kidnaper. "now we'll see whether scout tactics are worth anything," observed lil artha, to landy smith and phil dale, the two new members who had come along to begin their experiences as scouts; although neither of them was in the regulation uniform as yet, because the tailor, jasper's father, had not been able to commence their suits of khaki. of course these two boys were watching everything that occurred, with eyes round with wonder. they were of the observing kind, and would doubtless quickly grasp the fact that a scout must keep eyes and ears on the alert, if he hoped to accomplish anything. "well, here's the hemlock, all right," observed toby, "and now, fellows, stand back till elmer has a chance to look over the ground. so many feet might tramp out the trail dolph must have left." they watched elmer as he bent over. he moved this way and that, as his eyes scanned the ground in the most likely places. twice he seemed to turn over some twigs, or fallen foliage that had turned brown. "he sees it!" exclaimed lil artha; and matt echoed the words, for he, too, had noticed that elmer was now actually moving on. "want us to tag along after you, elmer?" called mark, eagerly. by a movement of his arm the leader announced that he did. "go slow now, fellows," warned mark. "don't anybody overrun him, and cut across the trail. leave it to elmer just now. if he wants us to help him he'll sing out all in good time." "that goes, mark," echoed red; and in this way then the dozen scouts began to move along through the woods, losing sight of the road, and the cottage where the mourning mother continued to weep and pray. presently they saw that elmer had changed his course. he was no longer heading directly into the west as at first, but had sheered more into the northwest. "begins to look like elmer was right, and the police head wrong," remarked matty. "in what way?" asked landy smith, filled with curiosity as to what it meant. "why," matt went on, "you remember that the man said he believed dolph was heading for the road that would take him to cramertown. now, elmer, he believed just the opposite, and that pretty soon dolph would turn off to go deeper into the timber. and that's just what he seems to be doing, the slick skunk." "say, this thing keeps growing more exciting, the further you dip into it," declared landy. "already i'm dead sure i'm going to get heaps of fun out of the scout business. and after a while, perhaps we'll even run this fellow dolph down." "sure thing," asserted toby, confidently. "just stake your faith on elmer to do the little job. yes, sir, we expect that to happen, sooner or later." "and when you do, there's going to be some sort of a mix-up," continued landy. "wouldn't be surprised," replied toby, glancing at the new member queerly, for he saw landy was excited. "hark to me, toby," said the other, almost in a whisper; "if that thing does come around, perhaps you'll all be glad i brought this little machine along," and he exhibited a revolver to the astonished gaze of the other. "hold on here," said toby. "you ought to know that it's against the rules of the scouts, and our troop in particular, to carry a pistol. nobody but the scout-master has that privilege. and to save you from trouble you'd better tell elmer right off." others of the boys had seen what landy held, and of course their exclamations reached the ears of the leader, who turned back. "against the rules, landy," he said, smiling; "but since you're a new member, i won't throw it away. here, let me empty out all the cartridges. you haven't any more with you, i suppose? well, an empty revolver can't do any great harm. but be sure not to bring it again." "but it might have come in handy right now, in case dolph gruber turned out to be ugly," protested landy, regretfully replacing the shiny thing in his pocket, with a shame-faced air. "oh! well," said elmer, as he started off again on the trail, "if twelve husky scouts can't manage one man, they'd better call themselves squaws, and put on skirts; that's all. come on, fellows!" chapter ix. reasoning that looked like magic. the two new scouts, landy smith and phil dale, watched every action of elmer with wonder and the deepest interest. "i never knew before there was so much in this business," the former kept declaring to matty, who chanced to keep near him. "why, he doesn't seem to have any great trouble finding where dolph went along, and yet for the life of me i can't see a blessed sign of a footprint." "well," laughed matty, "for that matter neither can some of the rest of us, but we're keen to learn; and i know i'm picking up new points all the time. you see elmer lived away out in the canadian great west, where he mixed up with cowboys, hunters and all such chaps. that's where he learned lots of things that just fit in the scouting line like pie." "what's he going to do now?" demanded landy, seeing their leader coming to a sudden halt, and waving for the others to approach. "he wants to show us something," replied matty. "you see, elmer is anxious that every member of the troop, whether he belongs to the wolf patrol, the beaver, or the new eagle that is being formed, shall be as well posted in woodcraft as he is himself. so even while we're following up this trail, bent on business, he finds interesting things now and then to explain to us." as the entire group of scouts gathered around where the leader bent over the ground, elmer pointed downward, saying: "here's something, fellows, that i thought you ought to take note of. it may be of considerable benefit to you at some time or other, when perhaps you're passing through a test of trail following. i suppose every one of you can see this plain track of dolph's shoe here?" "sure!" replied a number of the boys, readily enough; for evidently elmer had picked out a particularly prominent impression when starting in to paint his little lesson. "i'm going to hazard the declaration that this track was made about seven this morning; that at the time dolph was carrying the little girl in his arms, and probably holding his hand over her mouth in order to prevent her crying out loud so as to attract attention." "well, i declare, that's a whole heap to say, elmer," remarked toby; although the expression on his face was rather that of eagerness to hear more, than doubt concerning the ability of elmer to make good his assertion. as for the two new scouts, they were beyond saying anything, but could only gasp and exchange looks. "now, you are wondering how i know those three things," elmer went on. "and perhaps some of you are thinking that i asked mrs. gruber what time it was when dolph came home, and acted like a brute. but i didn't; and only know, like the rest of you, that it was some time this morning. but i happened to remember that there was a queer little shower early this morning. it stopped as suddenly as it began. all the way up to here i could see signs of water in the tracks, but you notice there are none in these footprints now. that shower quit at five minutes to seven in hickory ridge. making allowance for the difference in distance, i reckon dolph was right here when it let up, say at even seven." "gee! that's going some!" muttered landy, who was listening with rapt attention. "now, about his carrying the girl--that's easy. the soil is so soft right here, that it would show even the small print of her shoes. i saw them just back yonder, where we passed the big oak tree, but there's never a sign here. it stands to reason dolph wouldn't turn the child loose; and so he must have picked her up." "because she was getting worn out, do you think, elmer?" asked mark. "well, that may have been the cause; and yet, perhaps, he had another reason, which brings me to the third statement i made. he was holding his hand over her mouth! i'm only making a bold stab at that, fellows, and if you pay attention i'll try to explain on what i base my views." "sure we will, elmer; you've got us all tuned up to top notch," remarked red. "and as for me," said landy, helplessly, "i'm in a fog, drifting about, and not knowing where i'll land. for the life of me i can't see how you figure out such wonderful things, elmer." "listen, then," went on the acting scout master, "up to near here the trail led along in a direct track. i could see that dolph was following some line he had no doubt marked out for himself. then suddenly he had darted aside. that was where he grabbed up the child, if the tracks stood for anything. do you see where he began to move along so as to keep this fringe of bushes in front? all right. mark, you walk over to that big clump, and tell me if there isn't plain marks there showing where dolph knelt down. you can't mistake the impression of his knees, and where the toes of his shoes dug into the soil two feet below." mark thereupon hastened to obey, while the balance of the scouts awaited his report with mingled feelings of anxiety and hope. they saw him bend over as though keenly observing. then mark straightened up. his face was smiling, as he called out triumphantly: "by all that's wonderful they're here, just as you said they would be, elmer. i know a man knelt down as well as if i saw him. and wait, here's the tracks of little shoes again, just beside him." "i supposed you would find _her_ trail there," resumed elmer, quietly, "because it stood to reason that as dolph crouched down behind the bushes he would drop her on the ground; all the while, remember, possibly holding his hand over ruth's little mouth to keep her from betraying him." "if that don't beat the dutch!" ejaculated landy. "do you mean to tell me you read all that just from the signs? after this i'll believe anything. why, a fellow'd think you'd been right on the spot, and actually watched dolph." "but see here, elmer," spoke up red huggins, perhaps thinking to get the leader in a hole, or else honestly seeking further enlightenment; "what ever made dolph act in that silly way? do you think he was going out of his head, and believin' the police were hot on his trail?" elmer smiled. "i've been thinking of that, red," he remarked, "and come to this conclusion. he must have heard voices, or else caught the sound of wheels over in that direction, for you see that he dropped down behind the bushes on the east side, showing the danger must have been to the west!" all of the boys turned and stared in that quarter. "matty," said elmer, "while the rest of us stay right here, suppose you start off directly west of this. don't go out of sight; and unless my theory is all wrong you won't have to. because i'll be mighty much surprised if you don't run across a road pretty quick!" of course matty eggleston made the utmost haste to comply with the directions of his chief. as leader of the beaver patrol he was decidedly interested in everything that pertained to woodcraft, and the way in which elmer was showing the wonders of the forest trailer's art captivated him. the rest of the scouts stood there, all eyes following the form of their companion as he made his way between the trees, avoiding such bushes as impeded his forward movements. would he find that the supposition of the trail follower was correct? was there a road so close to them, hidden by the thick undergrowth? suddenly matty whirled around. he made a gesture that told of delight almost beyond his ability to express. and then they heard his shout. "here's your old road, elmer, i declare if it ain't, just as you said!" "bully for elmer!" exclaimed the impulsive red. "say, you've been up in this region before, haven't you, elmer?" asked phil dale, who seemed to be the "doubting thomas" of the little flock; for these were things so remarkable he must believe the scout-master knew beforehand, or else was playing a practical joke on his comrades. "never in all my life," replied elmer, and phil believed him; then elevating his voice the leader called out: "go on, and get to the road, matty. i want you to take a look, and tell me if you can see the marks of rubber tires there in the mud or dust." a minute later and the other shouted back: "just as sure as you live, fellows, i've found the marks where a car rushed past. must have gone at a pretty sharp clip, too, because it sent the mud flying from this little depression here." "let's get over there with matty," remarked elmer. "we can come back here afterward and take up the trail again." two minutes later and the scouts stood on the road. it was only a country road, and not a general thoroughfare. few vehicles passed during the day, and apparently it must be a sort of connecting link between turnpikes that ran parallel. "the car was going in the same direction we are headed," announced elmer, after looking at the marks. "well, i'll be blessed if i can see how you found that out," declared phil, as he shook his head and looked puzzled. "oh! nothing could be more simple," declared elmer. "in a case of this kind all a scout has to do is to keep his wits about him, and look sharp. now, just as matty guessed that this car was hitting up a pretty good pace when it went past, because it threw the soft mud to some little distance when it dashed through this puddle, so i examine some of the splashes on the leaves here by the roadside. and as you see, fellows, they are, without a single exception, all on this one side of leaves and the trunks of these close-by trees. do you get on now, phil?" "well, i declare, you _are_ a wonder, elmer chenowith!" exclaimed the other, as his face lighted up. "i used to think it was only guesswork, this reading tracks; but now i can see that it's all figured out just like you'd get an algebra problem in school. given one thing, and the other must follow dead sure. of course that car was going north! it couldn't be anything else, because these mud splashes are every one on the south side of the leaves and trees." "well, this has been an eye-opener to me, fellows!" declared landy, earnestly. "and i give you fair notice right now that i'm going to know a heap more about this fine business before i've been long in the beaver patrol." "i say, elmer, do you mean to tell us this car which dolph heard coming, and hid to escape being seen--that it was the one we saw start out for cramertown?" asked red. "no, it couldn't have been, for a good many reasons. that car didn't leave the cottage of mrs. gruber till just before we did, and that was plumb nine. you remember, i think i proved by the rain token, that dolph was here at seven. so it must have been another car entirely--perhaps some people going to rockaway or hickory ridge, and in a hurry. but dolph, hearing them coming, and being afraid by reason of his guilt, hid behind the bushes, and, i imagine, must have clapped a hand over little ruth's mouth. if the men in the machine heard a child's cry they might want to jump out and investigate, and dolph wasn't going to take any chances." "all this is mighty interesting, elmer," said mark; "and we think you've proved every point you made. what comes next on the program?" "back to the trail, and keep right along. sooner or later i expect we're going to run this scoundrel to earth and make a prisoner of him. but he's got several hours' start of us yet," elmer replied, leaving the road that had told them so much, and aiming once more for the clump of bushes where the impression of dolph's two knees could be so plainly seen. "but unless he's a regular trotter he ain't going to keep on the go long," remarked lil artha, confidently. "not much," declared ted burgoyne. "you thee, he's got that little girl along, and it thtands to reason ruth ith about played out right here. tho, fellows, the chances are dolph he'll have to just pick her up and carry her. and with thuch a load why he'll thoon get tired and camp. that's where we'll have the hunch on him." "yes," elmer went on, "i quite agree with ted there, and expect that before another hour at least we'll run on our game." once more, then, he led the way, with an interested and enthusiastic bunch of scouts trailing close at his heels. frequently there would arise little problems that had to be solved. now it was an apparent absence of marks, showing that the ground had grown more rocky, and no footprint appeared. then again, dolph followed a worn trail, so that it was necessary to make sure he stuck to this. elmer was equal to each and every demand upon his knowledge. when none of the other boys could discover a sign of tracks, he pointed out to where a stone had been overturned since the little shower had passed; or it might be calling their attention to a broken twig, a bruised leaf that had been trodden on, or in various other ways proved his point, as was made clear when a little later they would again run upon the footprints left by dolph. they had now come quite some distance, and a few of the fellows were showing signs of wishing to rest up for a brief interval. elmer himself could stand any amount of fatigue without giving way, but there were untrained muscles among the scouts; and after all it was not so vital that they rush things. "here, let's rest for ten minutes or so, fellows," he remarked, as they came to a little bluff about fifteen or twenty feet in height, at the foot of which the trail seemed to run. the boys threw themselves down on the ground, some of them glad of the chance to recuperate without having to show the white feather. it was very thoughtful of the leader, to be sure, displaying this regard for their natural pride. "he sure can't be a great ways from here, elmer?" remarked matty. "seems to me the trail has been growing fresher lately." "that's right, it has," replied the other, nodding his head. "one place i found where dolph had rested, i don't know how long, but perhaps half an hour; for the child walked again after they started, as if refreshed by the stop." "then we're apt to run on them any old time now?" suggested toby, eagerly. "just what we are," elmer answered, as he kept his face turned upward toward the top of the little bluff overhead. "what you looking at, elmer?" demanded red huggins, half starting up. "just cast your eyes up where that clump of grass grows, fellows," the leader said, pointing his finger; "i thought i saw something moving there, and----" what he meant to say remained unspoken, for just then a slice of the edge of the bluff suddenly gave way, and amid a mass of earth a human figure came rolling down the sharp incline! chapter x. giving matt tubbs a chance. "whoop! it's that dolph, fellows!" cried red, jumping to his feet, and showing signs of being prepared to fight if necessary; though scouts are supposed to resort to such methods only in cases of absolute necessity, and then generally in defense of some one weaker than themselves. "look at him turning somersaults, would you?" shouted landy. "oh! my stars, what a header! he'll break his neck, sure!" exclaimed toby. the tumbling figure, with arms and legs flying every which way, landed in a heap close beside the bunch of startled scouts, every one of whom was now erect, and observing the dusty intruder with staring eyes. "wow! look at him, fellows! we've sure seen that gent before!" said red, as the unfortunate spy sat up, and dug his knuckles into his eyes as if to clear them of the dust. his nose was bleeding more or less, and he showed other signs of rough treatment; but apparently he had not been seriously hurt by his fall. "it's matt tubbs!" remarked elmer, with a smile, as though after all he was not so very much astonished at the phenomenon. "say, however did that chump get here?" demanded toby. "yes, it's me, all right," remarked the object of their attention, with rather a sickly grin, as he started to get out a handkerchief to apply to his bleeding nose; "anyhow, it's what's left of me after that nasty tumble." "are you hurt bad, matt?" demanded dr. ted, scenting an opportunity to practice his arts of healing; "because if you feel that you've broken a leg, or your collar bone, call on me for help. won't charge you a cent either. glad to cut off a limb or do any little favor. don't be bashful, now; just thspeak up." "oh! rats, i ain't hurt so bad as that! i reckon i kin get up all right," and as he spoke matt proceeded to prove the truth of his assertion by scrambling to his feet, though he winced a little as he did so. "where'd you ever come from?" demanded matty. "we felt sure you'd gone off in that car with your father and the police, headed for cramertown. say, are they near here; and did they turn back?" "naw," grunted matt. "i jumped out after i got to thinkin' about it. seemed to me after what i saw elmer chenowith do yesterday up at the place of my aunt, that he'd be more apt to find that pesky dolph gruber than a pack of noisy cops. so i just follered the bunch, that's all." and strange to say, elmer felt more pride over hearing one who had been an enemy speak these words of praise than he would have been had his chums gone into ecstasies over his work as a trailer. he believed he knew what was going on in that mind of matt. and he was not at all sorry for it, either. it might mean great things in the near future for both the fairfield boys, and those of the hickory ridge troop. "d'ye mean to tell us, matt, you've been dodging after us right along, and none of us saw you?" demanded red. the fairfield bully grinned; and as his broad face was by this time pretty well smeared with traces of blood, he presented a queer appearance while so doing. "all the same, that's just what i done, red," he declared. "sometimes i was that clost i heard every word you fellers said. then agin i dropped back, when the cover got thinner. an' right here let me say i was huggin' the ground all the time elmer, he says such great things about the trail, an' the ottermobile on that road. never knowed there could be so much diskivered by just peekin' at footprints. gosh! 'twas great, that's what." "well, where are you going?" asked toby, between whom and the fairfield bully there was a long standing grudge. "same as you fellers, i reckon," grinned matt. "he means he wants to stick along with us, boys," remarked red. "just like his impudence!" snarled chatz, unable to bring himself to believe there was an atom of good in this hulking fairfield leader, who had many a time started a fight when the boys of the rival towns tried to compete on the diamond, the gridiron, or at hockey on the ice of the sweetwater river. matt heard these remarks, which were none too complimentary. he seemed to have made up his mind not to pay any attention to them, much as they must have set his fighting blood to coursing hotly through his veins. his eyes were fastened on elmer alone, as though he recognized the fact of his leadership, and that what he said was apt to go. elmer made up his mind immediately. he considered that this was too good an opportunity to be lost. matt, the rough and ready fighter of the neighboring town, was at the crossroads. a very little thing would turn him one way or the other. he might be said to be groping in the dark. and what scout worthy of the name would forget his vows, and turn a cold shoulder upon a seeker after light? so he turned toward matt a face that was filled with encouragement; and even before the leader of the wolf patrol had spoken a single word matt realized that his case was as good as won. "would you mind telling us, matt," said elmer, pleasantly, "just why you want to go along with us now?" "sure not," came the ready answer. "i said, didn't i, that when i saw what blundering fools them jay cops were, i believed there was a heap more chance of elmer trackin' dolph gruber? well, that's one reason why i want to go along; 'cause i reckon you're just goin' to get that critter, while the police are waitin' for him to show up in cramertown, where he never meant to go at all." "but, matt, there is another reason?" persisted elmer. "there be," replied the bully, with one of his grins. "tell us what it is," asked mark. "well, you fellers know we're startin' a troop over in fairfield, don't you?" matt replied. "i've heard a lot 'bout what this here elmer chenowith knowed concernin' woodcraft an' such things. when i seen him take holt of my uncle yest'day, and fix him up just like a reg'lar doctor might, when i didn't know the fust blamed thing to do, says i to myself, says i, 'it's time you was findin' out all 'bout what this here scout business means; 'cause thar's a heap more connected with it than fightin'.' an' i want to be along to see what else elmer kin show us, when the trail she grows dim. there seems to be somethin' in here," and he clapped a hand on his breast, "that just _wants_ to larn 'bout these things. never felt just this way afore, give you my word i ain't. kin i go, elmer?" the scout leader gave a quick glance at his chums. several nodded, hardly knowing themselves why they did it, save that somehow they had been affected by what the bully of fairfield had just said. "i don't think a single scout will raise any objection to your keeping along with us, matt," elmer said, seriously. "only for the time being you must promise to be bound by the same rules that the rest are." "promise anything, elmer, so's you let me go 'long," declared the other. "now what d'ye want of me?" "only that you agree to obey orders," elmer said. "whose orders?" demanded matt, quickly. "i happen to represent our scout-master, mr. garrabrant," answered the leader of the wolf patrol; "and in his absence the members of the troop look to me to command." matt grinned some more, and nodded cheerfully. "sure i'll do whatever _you_ say while i'm along, elmer," he declared. "and when we ketch up with that coward dolph, i hope you set me on him. i'm just boiling over for a fight; and he'll get his medicine or else my name is mud." "that's just it, matt," remarked elmer. "we hope not to have to fight at all, if we can manage to get the child away from her stepfather. but one thing i will promise you, matt--if there should be any need of strong-arm action, i'll call on you to do your share. you'll be on the firing line." "all right, elmer; and now forget i'm along, and just go on like you would if i hadn't come tumbling down that pesky slope like a bag of oats. wow! my elbows must be skinned to beat the band." and elmer knew full well that after that his every movement would be watched by matt with the utmost eagerness. a new world was opening up to this rough boy of fairfield; through the open door he was beginning to catch enticing glimpses of things he had never dreamed existed on this earth. and elmer could not find it in his heart to close that door that was ajar. so they started again. whenever there came a brief halt, as the trailer found a temporary hitch in his work, matt tubbs invariably pressed to the front, and had eyes and ears only for the one whom he had begun to take as his pattern. and knowing his utter ignorance along the line of reading signs, elmer took especial pains to explain just why he did this thing or that. it was an object lesson that was apt to prove invaluable to every fellow who clustered around "the boy who knew." besides the information they thus picked up, the fascination of the thing appealed strongly to their inquiring minds; and as a consequence, every fellow would make it a point to study the gentle arts of woodcraft more and more, as opportunities for doing so arose. they had gone possibly another mile when elmer came to a halt, and raised his hand in a way that told his companions he wanted them to stop. "no noise, please, now, fellows," he said, in a low tone; and the manner of his saying this struck most of the scouts as highly significant. "thay, are we near him now?" asked ted, in a hoarse whisper--he had been keeping close to matt all the while, from time to time suggesting something in the way of relief from the aches and pains the fairfield boy was suffering, even to the extent of promising to bind up his skinned elbows at the first chance. "i believe we are," replied the leader, in the same cautious voice; "in fact, he may right now be within a hundred yards of where we are standing!" chapter xi. at mcgraw's lumber camp. no one said anything immediately. although every scout had been showing more or less signs of impatience, and was wishing that they would soon come upon the fugitive who had kidnaped the sweet child of mrs. gruber, now that the critical moment seemed near at hand they found themselves attacked with a queer little case of shivers. had elmer's opinion been asked as to what this meant, he might have compared it to the "buck fever" that usually assails a greenhorn on the occasion of his getting his first chance to shoot a deer. it was sheer nervousness, that was all. all eyes were turned upon the leader as though they looked to him to say just what was next on their program. "i want you to settle down here and wait for me," he remarked, quietly. "does that mean you're going to creep forward and try and glimpse the camp of the enemy?" asked mark, regretfully; for he would have liked to share this duty with his chum, if possible. "yes," replied the other. "from signs i've been noticing along the way lately, i've got a hunch that we're close to that old logging camp i've heard tell of ever since i came to hickory ridge. you know it's been deserted now for some ten years because all the big timber was cut that could be moved to the river. most of this around here is second growth, though a few big trees were left as being crooked or something else." "you must mean mcgraw's camp!" remarked mark. "that was what they used to call it in the old days; and in those times these woods saw some lively goings-on, i understand," elmer continued. "i should just say they did," remarked red. "i've heard my father tell of the awful fights that used to happen every winter up here." "say, i was up at mcgraw's camp once about three years ago," broke in toby. "my folks were out driving and we got lost, bringin' up in the camp. why, we even had to spend a whole night there, gettin' out the next day. whee! wasn't ma scared, though? she thought we was all going to be devoured by panthers and bears. dad, he had to sit up all night in the shanty, keep a fire goin' and guard the door. every little while she'd pop up and look 'round, like she'd been dreamin' a whole army of wildcats and other varmints had come down the chimbly flue." "perhaps your knowledge of the camp may come in handy for us, if we have to use strategy to capture dolph," suggested elmer; and immediately toby swelled out his chest as though he felt that he must henceforth assume great importance in the carrying out of the plan of campaign. "now, don't anybody move while i'm gone, remember," said elmer, in a general way, but with his eye fixed particularly upon matt tubbs. "nixy for me, elmer," remarked that worthy, in a low, husky tone. "i'm goin' to lay right here and wait till you come back; that's me." "and perhaps it might be ath well, matt, if you allowed me to thee those elbows of yours while we're waiting," said dr. ted, officiously edging closer to his prospective patient. "it happens, you thee, that i've got thome excellent thalve along with me. brought it, not knowing what might happen on a hike. it'll be a good thing, and take thome of the pain out; besides, it's just great to thstart wounds to healing." "get busy then, doc," grinned matt, peeling off his torn coat, and rolling up both his sleeves. the act disclosed the badly lacerated elbows; indeed so painful did they appear that some of the scouts could not keep from uttering exclamations of dismay; but matt was made of stern stuff, and at least affected to look at his wounds with indifference. dr. ted started to work and made considerable of an impression on the rough bully of fairfield, while he was softly rubbing the ointment on, and then insisting on wrapping a piece of linen, which he pulled out from one of his pockets, around each elbow to keep the wound clean, he said, though matt declared he wanted his arms free for immediate service. "there, don't that feel much better?" demanded ted, when he had completed his job; and matt drew the sleeves of his torn shirt down again. "right you are, ted; and i'm 'bliged to you. ain't nawthin' that bothers a feller more'n a skinned elbow, i reckon; and i've had lots of 'em." "i've heard of one thing that beats a skinned elbow," declared red. "i'd like to know," remarked matt, looking up from under his heavy brows inquiringly at the speaker. "why, two skinned elbows, i guess!" chuckled red, at which the other only grinned as if able to take a joke. meanwhile elmer had made his way cautiously along in the direction of where he believed, from certain signs, he would come upon the deserted old lumber camp. although he had not mentioned the fact to his comrades, elmer was positive that he had smelled wood smoke in the air; and as the gentle breeze happened to be blowing directly in their faces, he knew from this that there must be some kind of fire near by. this had been the principal thing that caused him to bring the expedition to a halt, while he skirmished ahead, to see what lay there. inside of five minutes after quitting the company of his fellow scouts, elmer had his first glimpse of the old collection of shanties known by the name of mcgraw's camp. after that he became even more cautious in advancing closer. not that he fancied dolph gruber would be apt to be very much on the alert; for he did not look upon the man as versed to any extent in the ways of the woods, but just on general principles. he was within sixty feet of the largest building, which had doubtless served as a lodging place for the dozen rough loggers employed here long ago, during several winters, when all at once elmer froze in his tracks. a man had come out of the building and proceeded toward a fire that was smouldering close by. fortunately he did not happen to notice the boy, though elmer saw him sweep his eyes around in a careless way. although the boy had no acquaintance with dolph gruber, he had heard the man described so often that he knew immediately this could not be the same party. gruber was tall and rather thin, whereas this fellow was both short and fat. "a hobo, or a yeggman," was what flashed though the mind of the lad, as he dropped flat behind some friendly bushes where he could conceal himself, and at the same time observe all that went on. the fellow had all the ear-marks of a genuine tramp. moreover, he looked ugly, as if he might prove a hard customer, should he be assailed by the scouts. "getting breakfast," thought elmer, as he noted how the man started the fire up again; and then after it was blazing cheerily began to put on a frying pan which must contain some sort of meat. "hello! another of the same breed!" the boy whispered to himself a short time later, as a second fellow shambled from the long log cabin, and carrying in his hand some sort of tomato can which might contain coffee. "they keep late hours, all right," chuckled elmer, noting these preparations for a meal; "or else they're getting this stuff ready for dolph. that sounds more likely; and it looks as if he knew these fellows were here when he headed this way." the presence of these two "weary willies" on the scene promised to complicate things more than a little. three husky looking men instead of only one meant that the scouts would have to be pretty smart if they hoped to outwit the trio. still, elmer had little fear of the result. he knew that with a baker's dozen of good fellows at his back, he ought to be able to come out ahead. but then, if his partly formed plans came out decently there would be no need of a rumpus, for the rescue of little ruth might be effected through strategy, just as he had told the warlike matt tubbs. now and then he would glance toward the big cabin. doubtless dolph and the girl were inside that; and he wished he could find a way to creep up, so as to peep in through one of the openings. if he were absolutely sure that the two tramps would remain where they were, and not come prowling around to the rear, elmer might have taken the chances of such a move. but there was really no need. whatever it was the men were cooking over the fire, it seemed to take but a short time; for the fat tramp presently waddled off to the door of the cabin, thrust his head inside, and bawled out something. and presently a man came out. he was leading a little girl with golden hair, undoubtedly ruth tubbs. elmer saw immediately that she had been sobbing, for she put her small hands to her face as if to rub away the tears. and he gritted his teeth when he saw the man shake her savagely, heard him growl some sort of a threat as to what he would do if she didn't stop crying. he made her sit down near the fire on a log. then he gave her something to eat on a piece of birch bark, which one of the tramps had stripped, fresh and clean, from a near-by tree. at first the girl did not seem to want to eat, but upon being threatened again by the brute, she made a pretense of doing so, though it could be plainly seen that grief for her mother was taking away any appetite she might have had. elmer had seen enough from that side of the camp. if he could only withdraw now, he wanted to move around so as to come upon the place from the opposite side, and after that he could shape his plans of action. but was it safe to try and creep away while those three fellows were so close to him? should some movement on his part attract the attention of either one of the ugly looking tramps, who often looked that way, an investigation would be next in order. and while elmer did not much doubt but that he could easily give them the slip, as he was a good runner, his presence there, acting in such a suspicious manner, would alarm the trio of tough characters, so that they would be put on their guard and flee, or else shut themselves up in the log cabin and laugh at all the puny efforts of the scouts to get at them. so he was very cautious as he began to slowly push back. inch at a time he moved, save when very sure of his cover. all the while he kept a vigilant watch over the parties in the open spot. once elmer's heart seemed to be almost in his mouth. this was when the fatter one of the two suddenly craned his neck in an attitude of scrutiny, as though he fancied he had seen something moving off there in the underbrush. of course, if he made the first move as though bent on an investigation, elmer meant to spring boldly to his feet and run for it, possibly in a direction away from the spot where he had left his comrades. but the man did not even get up from his seat. judging from his looks, elmer decided that he must be a lazy sort of fellow. and then again, why should the tramp entertain the least suspicion that any human being could be loitering around the old mcgraw camp, so far removed from the railroad, and even the dirt roads leading to main thoroughfares? when things seemed all quiet again, elmer continued his wriggling movements, and presently arrived at a point where he could make better progress, as the cover was heavier. at length he made a detour, approached the cabin again, and scanned its immediate surroundings. satisfied with what he had learned, he proceeded to find the impatient scouts, from whom he had been absent now almost an hour. they were in a state of mind approaching insurrection. of course all manner of dreadful things were suggested under their breath, as the boys huddled together. every slight sound made them start and look hurriedly around. when a gray squirrel dropped a nut it seemed as though a gun had gone off; and later on when he himself frisked around a neighboring tree butt in search of a further supply, landy smith could hardly keep from crying out, his nerves being all on edge with the strain. chatz had looked at his watch for the twentieth time, and murmurs were beginning to rise all along the line, when suddenly keen-eyed mark exclaimed: "i saw something move right then, fellows; there it is again. it's elmer, all right; and he looks as though he might have discovered something of importance!" "bully! bully!" chuckled ty collins; "now we'll get into action, i guess!" chapter xii. a rebellion nipped in the bud. "did you find 'em, elmer?" "what's the use asking such silly questions, when you can see right now from the grin on his face that he did." "huh! don't you be so sure, red huggins; perhaps he's laughing at the way the sun reflects on your hair!" "tell us what you saw, elmer; we've passed an awful hour," said mark, sighing. "worst ever; thought it was five times as long!" complained toby. they listened attentively as the returned scout related his adventures while taking a survey of the old logging camp at close quarters. "three of 'em--three husky tramps all in a bunch! say, that's going some, now, fellows!" remarked ty. "ain't gettin' cold feet, i hope, so soon?" scoffed red. "when i do, you'll never know it, 'cause why--you'll be about fifty miles away, scootin' for all you're worth toward home, sweet home," declared ty, aggressively. "yes, you see!" remarked phil dale, wagging his head significantly. "now he's thinking of that popgun of his, elmer, and thinks you'll be sorry because you emptied all the cartridges out," said tom cropsey. "oh! i'm not bothering my head a bit over that," declared the leader. "fact is, i'd be afraid to have that gun around if it was loaded. we're not going to need such things to capture these fellows. perhaps there may be plenty of other ways to scare them into giving up." "but say, if it comes to a show-down, elmer, you don't mind if i just _point_ my cannon at 'em, do you, and threaten to blow the whole blooming lot into the next county if they don't up with their little hands?" phil asked. "not a bit," replied the other. "make as much use of an _empty_ pistol as you want, but be sure the time is ripe. only as a last resort pull it on the men. and now, draw in a little closer and we'll talk this thing over. thirteen heads ought to be some better than one." every one had a chance to make suggestions. elmer invited them to exchange views on the subject. he could pick up a clever idea once in a while by this means, for all boys do not think alike, and where he might overlook something, one of the others would be sure to strike it. "first of all, remember that we are not up here to capture these tramps, though, of course, it may come to that before we're through with the thing. to get possession of little ruth, that's our main idea," elmer said more than once. "but even if we do, won't they follow after us, and try to get the girl back again?" asked red, who, it could be plainly seen, was just spoiling for action. "perhaps they will if they know where to look for us!" replied the leader. "oh! i begin to see; you expect to blind the trail; or send 'em off on a false scent! ain't you the cute one, though, elmer? i take off my hat to you every time," chimed in "lil artha," who had been strangely quiet during most of this discussion, though he was doing a heap of thinking. matt tubbs had listened to what elmer had said. his face had grown dark with one of his passionate uprisings. "see here," he broke out with at this point, "why don't we just walk right into mcgraw camp, and up to that coward, dolph gruber? what's the use knuckling down in this way, i'd like to know? thirteen of us ought to be enough to turn them three old maids down right smart. let's just rush the place, and give 'em the lesson all kidnapers ought to get! who's with me?" he looked straight at red, first of all, as if aware of his hasty temper. indeed, that impulsive individual did make a little move as though tempted to step over to the side of matt. fighting had always come easy to red in the old days before he joined the scouts, and it was mighty hard work conquering the spirit that had such a strong grip on his nature. then some magnet caused him to twist to one side, and send an appealing look toward elmer, who shook his head in the negative. upon which red fell back again with a grunt. he had declined the plain invitation to rebel, which the stranger in the camp had thrown at his feet. no one else stirred. they even frowned, as though astonished at the audacity of this one who had tried to raise the standard of rebellion among the scouts. "huh! afraid to risk it, hey?" sneered matt. "don't like the idea, of running up against a hard fist, is that it, fellows? say, is that the sort of milksops this here scout business makes of boys? if it is, i reckon i ain't got much use for it in mine." "hold on!" it was elmer who spoke just those two words, and the bully of fairfield turned to look in the face of the wolf patrol leader. he stopped sneering, and even dropped his eyes before the accusing ones of elmer chenowith. "you forget yourself, matt," said elmer, quietly. "i always thought you were a fellow of your word; that you prided yourself on doing what you said you would. but i see i'm mistaken. you promised me that if we allowed you to come along you would obey orders. we scouts have subscribed to the rules of an organization that makes obedience to superior officers a thing of prime importance. these fellows believe in me, trust in me. they know i will not fail them purposely. and yet you have tried to get them to rebel, and do something i've positively forbidden." matt looked very uneasy. "i reckon i was away off, elmer; excuse me," he muttered; and that was more of an apology than any other boy had even heard matt tubbs utter. "all right; but you must learn to look at things in another light," elmer went on, severely. "now, you know that there are boys here who have been accustomed to rough-house tactics almost as much as you yourself. a little while ago it wouldn't have needed a second invitation to coax red, and toby, and several others to trot along at your heels, and pitch into those tramps like hot cakes. but they have turned over a new leaf. not that they can't fight, and fight hard, if necessary; but they are no longer looking for trouble." matt scratched his head, and tried to appear as though he understood; but it was slow to penetrate his brain; all his life he had written only on one side of the slate; in fact, until lately he did not know there was another side. "obedience is a true scout's glory," elmer continued, with a purpose in view. "that man is best fitted to command who has learned to obey. so you see, although tempted to join you, not a single one of the boys did so. i do not think you will ever look at things the same way again, or try to create a rebellion in camp where you have been received only on probation." "that's right; i knows it, elmer. i was dead wrong. and i'm goin' to do just whatever you say," declared matt, looking grimly around, as though challenging any boy to dare throw up to him the fact that in doing this he must be showing signs of weakness. "then we'll forget all about the incident. now, let's get back to where we were, and see if we can hit on some plan to get little ruth away." elmer went on as pleasantly as though nothing had occurred to ruffle his temper. "i was wondering," said chatz, "if given a little time, they mightn't do all the capturing themselves, suh." "how is that, chatz?" demanded toby; "i know my skull is thick, but somehow i just don't seem to grab that idea on the jump." "yes, explain what you've got in mind, please," remarked elmer. "well, i remembered that when you were telling all you had seen, suh, that you said the fat tramp and the tall thin one were taking a swig every few minutes out of a couple of big whisky flasks they carried in their pockets, and which you guessed dolph must have fetched along for them." "oh! yes, now i begin to see," remarked elmer. "supposing now, suh, they are allowed to drain those same flasks, do you believe they would be knocked out; and if we entered the camp it would be to find both of them fast asleep, and dead to the world?" "that's an idea worth considering," elmer declared. "but we shouldn't depend entirely upon it." "if there was only some way of getting those two men away from the camp it would make it easy sailing for us," suggested mark. "they act as though they expected to stay around here for some time," elmer answered. "in fact, from a few words i happened to hear them let fall, i wouldn't be surprised if they had done something or other that made them afraid that the police might be having an eye out for two fellows of their description. and that's the main reason they are sticking so close to this lonesome lumber camp." "suppose you outline your scheme, elmer," red said, humbly; "we'll fall in line, and endorse it, no matter what it is." "well, it's getting on toward the middle of the day right now, and since some of us had our breakfasts right early, suppose we take a snack before tackling this job," matty suggested. when the question of eating comes up among a party of hungry boys it is certain to take precedence, just as a motion to adjourn is said to be always in order. "that gets me where i live," declared red, nodding his head vigorously. "all in favor hold up your right hands," said the acting scout-master; and immediately eleven hands shot into the air. every one present had voted in favor of the motion save the leader and matt tubbs. and even the latter looked happier than before, when, taking a good sized roll from his haversack, elmer divided it in half and offered one portion to the uninvited guest. perhaps, after all, it was the part of wisdom for the scouts to partake of lunch before entering upon any more strenuous work. boys never feel quite so venturesome on an empty as a full stomach. at least, after the long hike, they needed refreshments, every one thought. "look at ted, will you; he's the disappointed one," whispered mark in the ear of the scout master. indeed, ted did continue to frown as if he had met with a severe loss; and yet as a rule he had never been known as a fighter. "don't you see what it is," answered elmer, amused. "he was just beginning to believe there would be a rumpus and lots of bruises to be taken care of. ted is getting more and more earnest in his liking for the profession of a surgeon." "huh!" grunted toby, who chanced to be standing close enough to hear what passed between the two chums; "he's getting more and more cracked, that's what. unless he curls that disposition of his, i'm afraid he'll get bounced from the scouts before long." "why, what's his desire to be a doctor and a surgeon got to do with it?" asked mark, curiously. "well, i'm getting afraid of that fellow, for a fact. he just keeps thinking of those old operations he's been reading about, all the blessed time. plague take it, fellows, i'm suspecting that unless ted finds a subject to work on when the fit takes him, he'll _make_ one! anyhow, i'm going to be mighty careful how i let myself go out alone with him after dark." elmer and mark looked at toby to see if he might not be joking, but if so, he certainly managed to keep a straight face through it all. "oh! i guess there isn't any danger of that," said the patrol leader, soothingly; "and all of us have to admit that ted certainly knows his business very well. he can dress a wound splendidly, and i'd be willing to trust him to set my arm if ever i was unlucky enough to get it broken. don't worry about ted, toby; he's all to the good, and i suspect that pretty much all of that ferocious spirit is put on for effect. he can be as gentle as a woman when he's dressing a wound, for i've watched him." as all the scouts were now through "feeding," as some of them called the process of eating their "snacks" carried along for the purpose, the plan of campaign proposed by elmer was gone over carefully, so that every fellow might be sure he understood the part he was expected to play in the round-up. "all ready, suh!" announced chatz maxfield, finally. "then we'll begin to advance, and this time we will do without the bugle, mark. remember your patrol calls, and keep your ears open for my signal. the whistle might arouse suspicions here, so i'll give the harsh cry of the bluejay three times. then act! now, be off, all of you; and matt, you come with me!" chapter xiii. red plays the part of the crafty fox. when the acting scout-master thus asked the recognized bully of fairfield to accompany him, he had several good reasons for the step, strange as it might seem to mark and the others, who fancied that possibly matt should be posted at some distance where he was likely to do no harm. but elmer preferred to have him under his own eye. moreover, the scheme upon which he was embarked was tinged with more or less danger; and matt was a husky chap, capable of giving a good account of himself. but then matt tubbs was not the only one who accompanied the leader. elmer had chosen to take with him ted, lil artha, toby, mark, landy and tom cropsey. this left five others, and they were also divided into two detachments, one consisting of matty, phil, chatz, ty; while red huggins made up the other all by himself. as to the plan of campaign, it might be well to explain what elmer had fashioned in his mind, as justifying their efforts. he had noticed, when spying around the further end of the long log cabin, an odd tunnel underneath the walls. this, no doubt, had been made by some woodchuck or other animal, desirous of finding a snug winter home. elmer fully believed that the passage was amply large enough to allow a boy to crawl through. and as it was apparently situated at that end of the building least likely to be used by the tramps, he expected that he and his mates would be able to creep in without being discovered. supposing his expectations were fulfilled; then the second detachment was to hide as near the door of the cabin as they could. finally, red, at some little distance, was to play his part in the game. red had always been known as a most adroit "fox" in the games the lads of hickory ridge played. once he started out to elude those hounds set upon his track, none had ever been successful in overtaking him. his methods of dodging and doubling on his track were famous throughout all the region, and in selecting him for the part of fox elmer knew just what to expect. red was to "toll" the tramps out of the cabin and lose them somewhere in the depths of the woods. meanwhile, with perhaps a clear field before them, elmer and his scouts could easily accomplish the balance of the affair. of course there was always the question as to whether it would work. following the lead of the scout master, the little squad of boys slipped around so as to come upon the long cabin from the rear. everything seemed peaceful. no one was in sight, the men having apparently stepped inside again after dolph and little ruth had been fed. this was as it should be, and elmer had indeed figured on it when laying his plans. in single file they approached as near as was deemed safe; then, at a signal from the leader, the scouts dropped flat behind some bushes. from this point on, their progress must be much slower, since they would have to do considerable crawling. before making a move, however, elmer gave the signal that was to start the other detachments. this, as agreed on, consisted of the harsh cry of the bluejay, and which in the still air of the woods could be easily heard for a long distance. after that things were to happen in regulation order. elmer had calculated just how long it might take his band to obtain entrance to the cabin; also for the other detachment to find a hiding place near by. red was scheduled to commence operations just half an hour after he heard the bluejay cry three times. and to make sure, he carried the nickel watch of chatz with him. "come on, fellows, and be careful, every one," was the low whisper which elmer allowed to float back over his shoulder. having been over the ground once before, and with his customary sagacity memorized every little point that could be used to advantage, elmer was not in the least dismayed at certain obstacles that from time to time had to be surmounted. ten minutes after the signal had been given he led his line of creeping scouts up to the further end of the long, low cabin. and so far as they knew no hostile eye had taken note of their coming. the tunnel was close at hand. its smooth walls told of the many times the animal responsible for its presence had crept in and out. and elmer noted with considerable satisfaction that his former conception of its capacity had not been amiss. yes, even the stoutest of the scouts could pass through, with a little assistance. even here the shrewdness of the young scout-master showed itself. he had arranged his schedule so that this individual, who chanced to be landy, always known as a fat youth, though fond of all outdoor sports, should come last. this, it may be noted in passing, was done so that in case he did stick in the tunnel he might not block the passage of others whose presence was vital to the success of the plan. elmer never forgot anything he heard or read, and it happened that not so very long before he had been interested in an account of the escape from libby prison of a large number of union prisoners during the dark days of the civil war, and vividly remembered how there might have been many more follow the same route only that an ambitious fat man closed the passage, since he could neither go on nor return. of course it was the intention of the scout-master himself to lead the way. he could not think of delegating that important function to any one else. and lil artha was to follow at his heels, to be succeeded by others, matt tubbs coming just before landy, on account of his size. lying on his back, elmer started in head first. this he did because the tunnel performed a quick curve upward, after once passing under the lower log; and as most boys are not as supple as gymnasts and contortionists, and cannot bend backward the same as forward, he knew this was the only way of passing through. using his heels to help propel his body forward, and being gently assisted by little pushes from his mates, elmer readily went through the ceremony of imitating the woodchuck that had used the hole during the past winter. as he raised his head above the level of the earthen floor he took a quick observation. the boys outside gave an inclination of continuing the pushing movement, so that it became necessary for him to kick in a way they would understand meant a temporary halt. it was not very light inside the long cabin, because there were only a few openings that had served as windows, and even some of these had become clogged with stray rubbish in the years that elapsed since the logging camp knew life and bustle. after a brief interval, however, elmer was able to see fairly well. just as he had anticipated, those who now occupied the place were down near the door at the other end. first of all he made out that the three men and one little girl comprised the entire list of occupants. this pleased him, because as yet he had not been positive on this point; and if it proved that there were half a dozen tough characters assembled under the roof of the log bunk-cabin, the work which the scouts had laid out for themselves must have been considerably extended. ruth was by herself. she had eaten at the command of her stepfather, but not with any heart in the matter, and now she was huddled in a little bunch, possibly crying under her breath, for she did not dare do anything more to anger the man she feared. the three men were sprawled out in some of the old bunks. a bundle of dried grass made a fair mattress for fellows unused to anything better, and they seemed quite satisfied with their surroundings. elmer knew that he must not linger too long. behind him were seven impatient fellows, all anxious to do that great crawling stunt. so he once more got in motion and wriggled himself into the cabin. luckily the tall, thin tramp whom elmer mentally called skinny, even as fatty covered the stout, happy-go-lucky chap, had a voice like a fog-horn; and a laugh that was as raspy as a file; so that when he got going there was little chance of any slight sound from the end of the long cabin being noticed. and as the squirrels ran haphazard all over the roof of the building, any such sound would of necessity be attributed to them, for such a thing as a hostile force penetrating this far into the timber would never strike any of the men as possible. a touch on the arm presently warned elmer that the first of his followers had wormed his way through that crooked passage. trust the angular lil artha for being able to navigate a zigzag tunnel with greatest ease. no doubt he slipped in and out with almost the handiness with which one might crack a whip. then came toby, mark and tom. after that there was a slight hitch, as though perhaps matt tubbs might be having a little difficulty; but they could hear faint scratching sounds from the tunnel that proved he was coming along. as for landy, it did not matter materially whether he arrived or not, so long as he did nothing to alarm the enemy. everything was apparently working just as elmer, like a wise general, had figured on. the three men still continued to talk and argue, being worked up over some sort of proposition that dolph seemed to be putting before the others. several words that came to the ears of elmer from time to time convinced him that dolph gruber was fully as bad a man as he had suspected, for there could be no doubt but that he was now actually planning to lead his reckless companions on a raid of some sort, looking to robbery as a reward of their enterprise. it must be getting on toward the time appointed when red was expected to take up his part of the game. landy had not yet arrived, but he was heroically endeavoring to join his comrades. indeed, during a temporary lull in the conversation of the trio of men at the other end of the cabin, elmer could hear a gasping sound from the tunnel that alarmed him not a little, lest it attract the attention of the plotters, and lead to a search calculated to upset all their well-laid plans. so he immediately pushed down into the mouth of the tunnel, and groping around until he came in contact with the clawing hands of the stout boy, began to gently but firmly drag him through. it was a tight fit, but luckily landy made it, though only for the assistance elmer gave him he must have stuck there ingloriously until the end of the affair, and thus been unable to assume his proper share in the rescue of little ruth. all were now on hand, landy panting in a way that made lil artha dig his elbow into his ribs as a warning that he was making altogether too much noise. "why don't red start his bazoo?" whispered that long-legged worthy in elmer's ear, as he lay flattened out on the ground in the gloomy far-end part of the loggers' bunk-house. "never fear, you can count on red to do his part," was what the scout master managed to convey in the same sort of careful whisper; and fearful lest arthur, who was known to be rather talkative, get fairly started, when it was most unwise to indulge in any conversation with those enemies so close by, elmer gave a gentle "'sh!" to signify that silence just then was golden. the impatient ones were counting the seconds, and wondering how they could ever hold out much longer. elmer kept watching the three men, knowing that through their actions at least he could readily tell when the expected break had come. ruth still had her face hidden in her dress, and was doubtless filled with grief because of this cruel enforced separation from her own mother. and as he thus waited, his heart beating faster than its wont, elmer caught a faint cry. it came from some distance off, and seemed to be filled with the utmost distress. "help! oh! help!" the time limit having expired, that was red getting in his work as the crafty fox attempting to coax the hounds on a false scent. the three men had started up. they were looking at each other, as though hardly knowing what to make of it. to hear a call for assistance in this lonely vicinity was certainly enough to bewilder, yes, and perhaps to alarm anyone; especially men whose past had been so very shady that they suspected everything which they could not fully understand. chapter xiv. taken by surprise. "hey! what's that?" the tall, thin tramp had jumped up from the bunk as he cried out in this fashion. his fat companion was also hastily scrambling out of his comfortable lodgings. both of them looked alarmed, but elmer noted with more or less satisfaction that the very one who might have been expected to be anxious showed the least sign of consternation. indeed, a crafty look had come over dolph's face, as though something pleasant might have struck him. "what's the matter with you?" demanded dolph, who, while he deserted his bunk, did so in a leisurely manner, as if to show his indifference. "didn't yuh hear that yell?" exclaimed the lean hobo. "sure i did; think i ain't got ears?" replied dolph, sneeringly. "but what ails the two of ye? look like ye wanted to skip out, and make tracks." "but who'd be comin' away up here, 'cept they wanted tuh git us? sense that leetle job over in janesville a month back, me an' pete don't feel jest as safe as we'd like!" went on the thin tramp. "aw! go chase yourself, simsy," scoffed dolph. "listen again, would ye? d'ye mark what the cove's ayellin'? he sez he wants help as plain as can be. d'ye think if they was any cop around they'd be tellin' us about it? wouldn't they rather creep up on us sly like, and nail us before we could run? rats! jest use yer brains and figger it out!" "but what is it, then?" demanded the fellow called simsy; "if so be yuh know, tell us, dolph? i ain't no coward, but i ain't no fool neither. an' if it comes tuh hangin' around, an' lettin' these jay cops git a strangle hold on me jest tuh show my grit, i tell yuh i ain't in it." "say, don't ye know the old loggin' road leads up here from the main line? i heard afore now o' fellers in cars mistakin' the way, or thinkin' they could cut off a heap of distance by startin' in on the side. all right, then; a fool is born every second, they say; an' one of 'em has just gone and got into trouble tryin' to foller that old loggin' road." the tall tramp looked at his fat companion; and then both turned their eyes on dolph as he finished speaking. apparently his logic struck them as sound, for the expression of fear had already begun to vanish from their unwashed faces. "d'ye really an' truly reckon that's what it be, dolph?" asked the hobo who had answered to the name of pete. "'cause we don't wanter take any chances, yuh see," added the tall one, shaking his little head to add emphasis to his remark. "'course it is," affirmed dolph, with a laugh of scorn that did more to convince his mates than all his talking. "i tell ye that's some fool feller in a car. he's run into a tree, or some fool play like that, an' p'raps got hurted bad. looky here, you two, how d'ye know this ain't jest the luckiest thing for us three coves that ever came down the pike?" "what way?" growled simsy. "yes, speak up an' tell us, dolph," echoed the other. "allers sed as how yuh had the brains o' the bunch. me an' pete likes the red licker too much. right now we ain't all we orter be. how's it goin' tuh be lucky for us three?" "why," continued dolph, with vehemence, "don't ye see, if so be this happens to be a rich guy what has got hurted, we can tote him in here, an' keep him along till he coughs up a nice little pile to his life savers. and if ye know a good thing when ye run across it, why both o' ye ought to put out to find him, and bring him back as quick as ye can." at that pete and simsy again exchanged looks. the love of gain was rapidly overcoming their first fears; just as the artful dolph had known it would. "how 'bout you, ole feller; don't you jine us in this game?" asked the thin tramp, a little suspiciously. "sure i do," returned dolph, with ready assurance; "but there ain't no need of the whole three of us goin' out to carry one feller here. 'sides, you remember i got a mighty sore heel after my long walk." "but--yuh ain't agoin' tuh clear out an' leave us?" questioned the tall hobo. "well, what sort of crazy questions are ye askin'? i'll stay right here, an' wait for ye to fetch the feller back. then leave it to me to work him for the stuff. i'm some good at that sort o' thing, i reckon," and dolph grinned in their faces. "so yuh are, dolph, so yuh are," replied simsy. "what say, pete, do we start out to do the great rescuin' act, and bring the poor bubble wagon fool here to get bleeded?" "ho! i'm willin' if yuh say so, simsy," replied the fat tramp, promptly, the prospect of gain acting as a lure in his eyes that outweighed all other considerations. elmer had listened to all this with the utmost eagerness. one minute he fancied that the lovely little trap he had baited so cleverly was about to work; and then again he found himself beset with fears that it had been all for naught; and that if the alarmed tramps made up their minds to flee, dolph would decide to accompany them, which in turn meant that little ruth must be spirited away, and another long chase follow. but, after all, it seemed now that things were moving along nicely. dolph could be thanked for greasing the ways, though of course the fellow never dreamed how he was riding to a fall in doing so. "come along then, pete; we'll take a look in at thet squaller, an' see how bad he's hurted." the tall tramp made for the near-by door of the log cabin while speaking, and his fat mate trotted at his heels, for all the world like a little dog--but an ugly bulldog at that, for he had the face of a ruffian, did pete. thus they passed out, stopping at the door to listen once more, while dolph urged them to lose no further time. meanwhile red had been duly busy. every minute the sound of his voice, filled with wild entreaty, came on the breeze. "help! oh! won't somebody come and help me! this way! oh! what a terrible fix i'm in! help! help!" he would shout in the most dismal tone imaginable. of course red was so situated that he could see the door of the cabin from a distance. thus he would know when anyone sallied forth to try and rescue the one supposed to be in a peck of trouble. and once that occurred, the crafty "fox" was due to exercise his wonderful ingenuity by slipping away, and later on lifting up his wail for assistance in a new quarter. thus he would coax the two tramps hither and thither, arousing their hopes only to dash them to the ground by a new appeal from another section. in the end, of course, such fellows would begin to believe they were being hoodwinked--that there must be something uncanny about the mysterious calls, and they would be seized with a small panic that must wind up the hunting game. but meanwhile ten, perhaps fifteen, minutes might have elapsed; and surely that space of time would be enough for elmer and his fellow scouts to accomplish the end they had in view. the young scout leader always did his work with more or less system. he had decided that they ought to let at least three minutes elapse after the departure of the men, before attempting any move. this would take them far enough away from the bunk-house so that any ordinary outcry from within would hardly reach their ears. having no other way of determining upon the passage of time, elmer began to count under his breath as soon as the bulky figure of pete had vanished from the open door of the building. three minutes does not seem a long time under ordinary conditions; indeed, in many instances it just slips past like magic. and yet try counting the seconds contained within that short space of time--one hundred and eighty of them, all told--why, it seems enormous. but steadily elmer was putting them over, determined not to change his plans, and give way to his natural impatience, since he had in the beginning figured on that three-minute leeway. he could feel the uneasy movements of his impatient chums. lil artha even went so far as to nudge him in the ribs, as though he had begun to suspect that their cautious leader might have gone to sleep. but elmer gave back an answering dig that convinced the other of his being on the alert. when he had finally reached the end of the probation, elmer himself began to make a forward movement. all the while he counted those passing seconds he had been closely watching the figure of dolph, so as to be ready for action. that was the motto of the scouts, "be prepared," and he certainly believed in living up to it. dolph had come back into the cabin. he appeared to be listening from time to time, as though a little anxious himself concerning the nature of that strange call for assistance; for all he had pretended to treat it so lightly when his allies were present. dolph had dropped down upon a block of wood, and was examining something which he had taken from his pocket. elmer was not able to get a good look at this article, but, knowing the desperate character of the man who sat there, and how he had now burned his bridges behind him when he kidnaped the child of the woman he had married and tortured, the boy could easily guess its nature. it was what lil artha would call a "gun," otherwise a revolver of the bulldog type, dangerous enough in the hands of a reckless scoundrel who feared arrest. elmer was conscious of a new little thrill, but he mentally scorned the thought of this being any indication of fear. indeed, to thoroughly disprove such a silly thing he even increased the pace with which he was creeping across the earthen floor of the cabin. dolph still sat there, his head bent low over the tool he was fondling, as he listened for any change in the cries from outside. if he would only kindly continue to hold that attitude for another full minute, elmer believed he might be in a position to make an aggressive move. just then the scout leader became aware of something that gave him a momentary spasm of acute alarm. ruth no longer had her face buried in her dress. something had caused her to stop her silent weeping, and look up. perhaps she, too, had been attracted by those wails for help which the boy scout fox was using as a means for "tolling" the two dangerous tramps away from the cabin. but in raising her head ruth had been made aware of some strange movement back of the bent-over figure of her stepfather. she was now staring with round-eyed wonder at the string of crawling figures that extended from the rear wall of the cabin. elmer raised his hand, and held up a warning finger. he hoped by this means to convince the girl that they were friends, and nothing was to be feared. but he also hoped that matt tubbs, whom he knew to be close at his side, might be doing something of the same kind; and that little ruth would recognize her cousin. whether the child could have given utterance to some low bubbling cry of fear or joy, which reached the ears of the man, or he just happened to look up, and noticed how she was staring past him, no one ever knew. elmer became suddenly aware that dolph had whirled around on his stool, and was looking in sheer amazement at the peculiar spectacle of eight figures worming their way across the earthen floor of the bunk-house and headed straight for the spot where he himself was seated. he certainly could not mistake the danger that accompanied the presence of all these strangers. and, given just three seconds in which to collect his wits, the desperate fugitive and kidnaper would of course do something looking toward one thing or the other--flight or resistance. elmer did not mean to allow of either. he had been nerving himself for just this crisis, and his muscles were ready primed for a quick leap. but, prepared as he was for the action that meant so much toward the carrying out of his plans, there was one ahead of elmer. this was matt tubbs, who, crouching there like a tiger beside the leader of the wolf patrol, had reached the limit of his endurance and submission to orders. even as elmer started to throw himself forward, meaning to clasp his arms about the man before he could rise, or do any damage with his weapon, a figure shot past him. then he saw matt tubbs hurl himself bodily upon dolph gruber. at the same time the pistol fell to the ground, struck on a stone, and was discharged! chapter xv. elmer thinks it pays. such a scene of wild confusion as followed. six other eager lads besides elmer and matt tubbs strove to get a chance to have "a finger in the pie," as lil artha called it. they even pushed among themselves, in their eagerness to land somewhere upon the squirming figure of the struggling victim. nor was this all. four other fellows had been hiding without, screened by some friendly bushes from the sight of pete and simsy when they issued forth in search of the unfortunate who was so beseechingly calling for help. these chaps, hearing the beginning of the racket within the bunk-house, looked upon it as a signal for their advance. through the open door they came in a confused bunch, ready to lend any assistance in their power. but just at that moment it looked as if there were already quite enough hands clustering around the astonished and disgusted dolph gruber to attend to his case. and as lil artha said, "too many cooks sometimes spoil the broth." dolph possibly as yet did not understand what it all meant. he had had a glimpse of khaki uniforms, and may have suspected that the authorities had summoned a company of the militia from some neighboring city to search for the kidnaper and the missing child. he struggled desperately; but when some six or eight pretty husky boys hurl their united weight on one person that individual has a slim chance of throwing off the burden. and so dolph had to take it out in wriggling and grunting. lil artha had made preparations looking to this condition of affairs. indeed, had he been a duly elected sheriff of the county he could hardly have been more in readiness to secure a prisoner. "hold him steady, fellows, while i tie his hands behind his back!" he exclaimed; "there, turn him over a little more; and matt, twist that left arm further back. that's the ticket, boys. watch me fix him up in a jiffy, will you?" he started to wrap some stout twine around and around the wrists of the prisoner. by this time dolph seemed to become aware of the fact that these mysterious fellows, who had crept in through some back entrance, and pounced upon him with such scant ceremony, were a pack of half-grown boys. he started to roar threats at them, filled with rage at the thought of such an indignity as being so rudely handled by mere lads. but despite his worst efforts he could not break loose from the grip they had upon his person. "whoop! that's the way to do it, fellows!" lil artha continued to declare, as he completed his job. "talk to me about your football tackle, this takes the cake, sure! now for another little splice around his legs. sit on him, some of you! no matter if he does object; what right has a kidnaper got we're bound to respect? let him bawl till he gets hoarse. we've got him, and we're going to hold him till he's shut up in the cooler at hickory ridge!" elmer meanwhile had not forgotten that dolph had comrades. doubtless his angry shouts must have reached the ears of the two tramps, who could not have gotten entirely beyond range of a loud voice. "here, you fellows," he called to the four boys who had come darting through the entrance of the cabin, "shut that door, and find some way to barricade it! we may have the other men attacking us yet; and you remember how we arranged our plans in case that happens. quick, let's get ready for a siege!" "hurrah! that's the ticket!" cried chatz maxfield. "lend a hand here, fellows, and we'll do the thing up in style. yes, suh, we-all have armed ourselves with the nicest clubs you evah saw, and hope to find a chance to use them, dusting the garments of those two hoboes." every one of the quartette, besides elmer himself, became as busy as the proverbial bee. the door was swung shut, even though it required more or less muscular persuasion to bring about this result, because of long disuse. then every description of weighty article upon which they could lay hands was hastily piled up against the said door, until almost in a minute it was barricaded so sturdily that a battering ram would be needed in order to smash it in. "don't stop there!" cried elmer. "the hole at the end of the place must be filled up and guarded. then a couple of fellows must stand at each of these open windows, ready to give those tramps a warm reception if they try to force their company on us." "let some of the rest of us have a chance to help!" called lil artha, as he scrambled to his feet. "oh! don't bother about dolph; he's laced up as tight as any old yellow pigskin ball could be at the beginning of a game on the gridiron. this way, toby, mark, and landy--bring some of those blocks along. everybody get busy, and prepare to resist boarders. reckon these are a different kind of boarders than the ones that used to eat their grub here winters. whoop! we can do it, and not half try!" elmer believed that he had by this time managed to get things in as decent shape as lay within his power. supposing the shouts had reached the ears of those two tramps--would they dare turn back and make for the cabin at their best speed? he thought not. what he had seen and heard concerning both pete and the tall hobo caused him to suspect that their first thought would be in connection with their own safety. they had shown this before when desirous of running, and only giving heed to dolph's suggestion that there might be some pecuniary profit for them in trying to find the unfortunate who called for assistance. and now, after being "tolled" from place to place by that strange voice, until their suspicions were once more aroused, should they hear the dreadful clamor accompanying the capture of their companion, the possibility of their taking chances in making a bolt back to the bunk-house were small indeed. elmer was more inclined to believe that both tramps must be in full flight at that very moment. but he had looked ahead for even the worst that could happen. red huggins had his orders. should the two men return to the camp, and attempt to break in, bent on doing the boys serious hurt, his was to be the duty of seeking help--of managing to reach some town, and bringing the officers to the old logging camp. "the tunnel is filled up, elmer; even a rat couldn't crawl through that hole right now!" reported mark, presently. elmer was looking out through one of the small openings. if he felt any anxiety concerning the possible coming of the two tramps his face failed to show it as he turned upon his best chum, saying: "are all the windows guarded, and do the boys understand what they are to do if anybody tries to get in?" "well, i should smile," laughed mark, a little hysterically, for he was filled with the excitement of the occasion. "just let one of those rascals try to poke his nose in here, and he's going to meet up with the surprise of his life. look at lil artha taking a fresh grip on that long wagon-tongue of his; i bet you he's just trying to imagine himself at bat, with two out, two men on bases, and a couple of runs needed to tie the score. yes, siree, he means to send the ball out of the lot for a homer, and don't you forget it. oh! don't i pity pete if ever he comes tapping at that window with lil artha standing guard." "i don't see or hear anything of the men, which looks good," remarked elmer, as he once more turned to glance outside, to where the trees and the scrub adjoining the deserted lumber camp could be observed. "but say, elmer, didn't you tell red something about letting us know what the men were doing? wasn't he to send a signal of some sort?" mark went on. "yes, that's so," replied the young scout leader of the wolf patrol; "but then, perhaps he hasn't been able to make sure yet. you see, he had to keep skipping around pretty lively in order to give them the slip. but all the same, i reckon it's about time we heard something from red." "hark!" even as mark uttered this one word, there came floating to their ears from some little distance away a strange sound. one who was unacquainted with the woods might have believed that it was an odd mixture between a dog howling and a baby squalling. elmer chuckled as if amused. "red hasn't got it down quite pat yet," he remarked, "but then, he wants practice. i've heard coyotes and big gray wolves howl lots of times, but that's a new one on me. still, red means well, and what he signals tells us the two men have lit out for all they're worth." "bully!" cried lil artha, who heard what elmer had said. "we hold the fort, and the enemy has skipped out! now, i opine that i'm some disappointed, because i did hope to try that nice club; but it's all right. i'm a peaceful chap, when i can have my own way. and we've got what we came for, fellows. here, let's give a big three cheers for the hickory ridge boy scouts." they were given with a vim and a volume of sound that must have been heard fully a mile away. doubtless it quickened the pace of the fleeing tramps, who might suspect that they were being hunted by a whole regiment of citizens, stirred to indignation by the stealing of little ruth. this made elmer suddenly remember the girl. she had been watching the actions of the scouts, at first with wonder and awe, but by degrees even smiling. perhaps the fact that they had made a prisoner of her tormentor, dolph gruber, may have had more or less influence along this line. then again, she had of course seen matt tubbs by now, and knew the newcomers must be friends. elmer stepped over to the child. the smile on his face was enough to convince little ruth that, with the coming of these boys in their drab-colored suits, her troubles were ended; and if she were possessed of any lurking doubts they must have taken flight with the first words he spoke. "we've come to take you back to your mother, ruth, and i hope you won't be afraid of us. here's your cousin matt along, too; you know him, don't you? it's all right now, ruth; nobody can hurt you while the boy scouts are here," was the way elmer spoke; and when he held out his hand the child readily put her own little quivering one within it, showing her utter confidence. then matt tubbs came up, his face wreathed in smiles. matt was tickled to realize that he had been along when the rescue of the kidnaped child had been effected. more than this, matt had seen a lot of things that would give him occasion for much serious thought later on--things that must have a bearing on his whole future. he had been given a practical object lesson concerning the other side of life, the decent side, which, up to now, had been pretty much of a sealed book to this pronounced bully of fairfield. elmer, looking at the gentle way matt was fondling the little girl, nodded his head and seemed well pleased. "i guess i didn't make any mistake when i said there was some good in that big hulk of a fellow," was what he said aside to mark, who was also watching matt. "well," replied the other, "i kind of had my doubts when you said all that, but the way things look now, i'm beginning to believe there may be a heap of truth in your theory. but then, everybody can't see as far as you can, elmer. that's the truth of it. most of us just skim along the surface, but seems like you dig down deep. i hope it turns out that way. if matt tubbs changed his nature, and began to do the right thing, it'd be the best job ever for the boys of fairfield, because you know he's the big boss over there. and say, wouldn't it make our chance for a warm session of baseball a little later on look pretty good?" "that's a fact," declared lil artha, who had joined them in time to catch what was being said. "that matt tubbs sure is a crack-a-jack when it comes to playing ball, and the nine he had last year was as stiff a proposition as the hickory ridge fellows ever tackled. yes, siree, i certain hope he'll be on the square after this; because it'd mean a lot for us." matt himself must have heard what they were saying, for at this juncture he turned and grinned as he remarked: "just you wait and see what comes out o' this, lil artha. i've got a hunch it's time the fairfield fellers get busy and ketch up with your crowd. and mark my words, once we get started, you've got to do your level best to climb up out of our reach, for we c'n go some, we fairfield fellers. i got a few idees since hitchin' up with this crowd. there's goin' to be some changes right away, and hickory ridge has got to look out, if she don't want to be beat at her own game. yes, sir, this ain't goin' to be the only troop of scouts around here. there's another town on the map--and they call her fairfield!" chapter xvi. lending a helping hand. "there comes red, now," said mark, about ten minutes later, and presently the party mentioned came hurrying up to the door of the log cabin, on which he beat a loud tattoo. "open up here, fellows!" he called. "danger's passed. both those tramps are just legging it out of this section to beat the band. reckon they're more'n a mile off right now. my! but they're scared. won't stop runnin' for the next hour. it was as good as a circus to see 'em talkin', when they just couldn't find me out. must 'a' begun to think it was one of chatz's ghosts right out of the graveyard." "now, just you drop that subject, red," remarked the southern lad, aggressively. "it's nobody's business what i believe in, suh, and i'd thank you to keep your opinions to yourself. i reckon now that everyone has his failings, and if mine happen to be a belief in spirits that's my affair, suh. that's all foh you, red." "what're we going to do next, elmer?" demanded toby. "head for home," replied the leader, promptly. "yes," added matt tubbs, "ruth's ma will be countin' the minutes till we get there, i reckon. if she's tuckered out, the little gal i mean, fellers, just let me carry her." "oh! we all can take a turn at that," remarked lil artha. "she's only a featherweight, and there ain't one of us but what would want to have a hand in toting her back. let's be starting, boys!" "say, what d'ye mean to do with me?" called dolph, who, lying there on the hard earthen floor of the bunk-house, had been listening to all the talk, and wondering what he had better do to further his own interests. elmer, followed by several of the scouts, sauntered over to him. "i was just trying to make up my mind," he said, "whether we had better take you along with us and hand you over to the police, or leave you here, and send them after you." "what's the use doin' either?" remarked the man, eagerly. "turn me loose and see me skip out of this section like a scared rabbit." but elmer was not in the least inclined to take that view of the matter. dolph had a hard face. he had proven himself a cruel rascal. elmer remembered the way he had shaken little ruth, and all sense of pity for the man's condition was banished from his heart. "that would suit you, i suppose, from the ground up," he remarked; "but it would be a bad job for other people. besides, i promised the police that if we were lucky enough to get our hands on you we'd hold you. here, that'll do now, dolph gruber; if you keep up that kind of talk we'll muzzle you. i've seen men gagged before now, and know how it's done. and i give you my word it doesn't feel the finest thing in the world, either. not another word or you get it!" the prisoner had formed an opinion of the young scout master. he believed that it would be silly in the extreme to anger him, and so, grumbling, and gritting his teeth, he allowed them to do what they wished. his ankles having been unfastened, dolph was told to get up, one of the scouts assisting him at the same time. "here, lil artha," said the commander, "pick out three other fellows who have clubs as good as that one you carry. form around the prisoner, and act as his escort. if he tries to escape you know what to do without my telling." "say, just let him give us the least excuse for treating him to a dose, that's all. i saw him cuff that little girl, and it showed what a big brute he is. don't i just hope he'll try to break away!" dolph gave the speaker, no other than ty collins, a dark scowl, but he did not dare express what was passing in his mind. so they left the logging camp. lil artha, who was recognized as the official photographer of the troop, managed to snap off several views that at future times would recall the picture of that memorable occasion, and doubtless give them the greatest of pleasure. and mark, who was really the grandson of a famous artist, and himself a genius with a brush and crayons, would, when the humor seized him, dash off some faithful sketches showing the passage of the eight boys through that woodchuck tunnel, and the surprise of dolph at discovering them trailing across the floor of the shanty. at first little ruth walked bravely along, holding the hand of her cousin. but presently she disclosed signs of being weary, and matt hastened to pick her up in his stout arms. when half a mile had been passed over he showed that the burden was telling on him, for the way was rough. thereupon one of the others insisted on having a chance to do the carrying. by this time ruth had become firmly convinced that all these boys were her best of friends, and she did not hesitate to clasp her chubby arms around the neck of ty collins, matty eggleston, red huggins, and even lil artha, as in succession they took charge of her. the march was along the old dirt road that in the end must bring them to one where the walking would be better. elmer conducted the campaign. he knew just how the land lay, for he had made it a part of his business to draw a map of the entire country around hickory ridge, from such sources as he could get hold of; and hence there was not the slightest danger of their getting lost in the timber. he also sent out several of the boys to act in the capacity of skirmishers. they were to keep a bright lookout for any signs of the enemy, meaning the two tramps, and should they discover them, certain signals--the scream of the eagle, or the odd little bark of the beaver perhaps--would convey the intelligence to the main company, placing them on their guard. but there was no such alarm. evidently, just as the sagacious and observing red had declared, pete and his tall ally had hastened to get away with all speed, and for aught the boys knew might be running yet. so in good time the expedition finally came to where the old logging road joined another, that seemed to lead toward the home town. "how much further do we have to go now?" asked toby, seeing elmer examining his home-made map. "a good five miles before us, but all over decent roads," smiled the leader. "oh, well, that ain't so much for scouts as seasoned as we are," remarked toby, who had been limping for a little while, though he declared it was simply on account of having struck his toe against a root, and not because he was tired a single bit. "but if i had them wings of mine here now, p'raps i could take a little flap or two that'd help along. reckon they're goin' to work, fellers. anyhow, my parachute, she's just a hummer. i'm goin' to try her out right soon; might climb up on top the church steeple and jump, if they'll let me." "say, boys," remarked red, just then, "it sure was a great shame the people that owned the old balloon we picked up when we were camping up on lake solitary claimed the gas bag, and insisted on paying us twenty-five dollars for saving their property. i'd like to wager that by now our inventive comrade here, toby ellsworth jones, would have coaxed his ma to pay for having it filled with gas, and gone sailing off to the land of the moon, or somewhere." "oh! i had that all laid out," grinned toby, "and i wasn't goin' to beg a single cent from my ma, either. could 'a' caught all the hot air i needed by just grabbin' what was goin' to waste in this bunch when they got to disputin'. but i ain't cast down a bit, fellers. plenty more chances for a really bright genius to make his mark in the world of science. if i live, the name of jones will go thundering down the ages. since the days of john paul in revolutionary times, not a single jones has done anything worth mentionin'. but the time's near at hand when you'll hear somethin' drop!" "huh! that'll be you, then, toby," chuckled red, "if you try to jump off a church steeple with your old wings on. and i reckon there'll be something of a splash, too! better go slow, that's what." talking in this vein, and joking with one another, the scouts managed to put the long miles behind them. nearly every fellow had had a chance to carry little ruth more or less, and seemed only too proud of the opportunity. "i c'n see the church spire!" shouted phil dale, finally. "he's right, boys," remarked elmer, who had seen the same thing, off and on, for the last five minutes, though waiting to discover whether any of the others would pick it up. "we're going to be home soon now. here comes a car after us, and as sure as anything, it's got the hickory ridge police force in it! line up along the road, boys, and watch how they stare." when those in the car saw little ruth among the scouts, and also noted that they had the kidnaper, dolph, in custody, they gave the boys a hearty cheer. some of them wanted to take the child in the car, but elmer declined to allow it. "we've done all the work, and we ought to be on hand when the girl is given over to her mother," he said. "that's all the reward we want for our day's labor, and say, we've had just a dandy time, haven't we, fellows?" a roar answered him, every scout taking off his hat, and waving it as he gave vent to three lusty cheers. seeing the justice of this claim, those in the car declared they would fall in behind. it was known that mrs. gruber had remained in her little cottage home, so toward that quarter the procession started. and when they saw the great joy that filled that poor mother's heart as she clasped her darling girl in her arms, every scout felt amply repaid for what fatigue he had endured that day. it was well worth the labor. and besides, had they not learned many things in the way of woodcraft that were apt to be useful, and make them better scouts? elmer was a proud boy when the mother of little ruth took his hand and squeezed it between both of her own, while she poured out thanks for what he had done. he quickly assured her that every one of those with him deserved just as much praise, and then laughed to see how confused some of the fellows looked when the happy and grateful mother went the rounds, actually kissing every fellow, just as if they might be her own boys! matt tubbs came over to him just as the scouts were drawing together, with the idea of returning to town, having had all the hike they desired for that one particular day. "oh! by the way, matt," said elmer with a twinkle in his eye, "the first time you're in hickory ridge, just stop off at my house, won't you? i think i've got a cap of yours, a gray one, with a little red button in the front." matt turned slightly red himself, and then laughed. "say, i acknowledge the corn, elmer," he remarked. "i was in that old shop, all right, listenin' to what you fellers said. just wanted to know how you ran things so's i could foller suit. picked up a heap, too, you bet. but the blamed old loft was so rotten she just went through, and let me down with a whoop. some of your scouts nigh got a grip on me when i run away. but they ain't goin' to ketch matt tubbs asleep any more'n they will a weasel. no harm done, elmer, was there?" "not a bit, matt," replied the young scout master, heartily. "glad you heard all you did, and if we can help you organize a troop over in fairfield, just you call on the hickory ridge scouts. hear that, matt?" the bully of fairfield looked steadily at the leader of the wolf patrol; then he laughed a little as he replied: "mebbe i will, elmer, for you've sure got me guessing some; mebbe i will!" that matt tubbs was as good as his word about getting up a troop of scouts in fairfield, and what interesting events were bound to occur in the natural rivalry between the two organizations, will be recorded in the future volumes of this series, the next one of which will be called "the hickory ridge boy scouts pathfinder." the end. addenda boy scout nature lore boy scout nature lore to be found in the hickory ridge boy scout series. wild animals of the united states } } in number i. tracking } the campfires of the wolf patrol. trees and wild flowers of the united states in number ii. woodcraft, or how a patrol leader made good. reptiles of the united states in number iii. pathfinder, or the missing tenderfoot. fishes of the united states in number iv. fast nine, or a challenge from fairfield. insects of the united states in number v. great hike, or the pride of the khaki troop. birds of the united states in number vi. endurance test, or how clear grit won the day. the trees of the united states. the witch hazel family. the witch hazel is a little tree or shrub of striking growth that, when all its neighbors are getting ready for their long winter nap, bursts out in full bloom with clusters of stringy yellow flowers, at the same time bearing the ripened seed pods of last year's blossoms. the seeds have a peculiar way of popping from the pods. take some home with you in the late fall and see what happens. as soon as the pods feel the warmth of the room they burst and shoot out the seeds. it is said that the indians used the bark of the witch hazel in treating inflammation, and it is still popularly believed to contain healing virtue. the sweetgum or liquidambar is a tree that grows widely over the united states. its leaves are star-shaped and not unlike the leaves of the maple. the coloring of the liquidambar in the fall is very beautiful. its fruit is a peculiar little spiny ball. the gum was used by the indians to sweeten their smoking mixtures. in some sections it is called the alligator tree because of the peculiarity of the bark. the dogwood family. the flowering dogwood is the most beautiful sight of our may woodlands. the wood of this tree is very hard. nobody seems to know how it received its common name. it is covered with clusters of red berries in the fall and at that time its leaves turn a bright red. the olive family. to this family belong the ash trees, so called on account of the appearance of the under-surface of their leaves. there is a superstition that the ash tree is peculiarly likely to be struck by lightning. its wood is largely used because of its lightness and elasticity; such articles as the handles of tools, oars, and carriage shafts are made of ash wood. white ash sometimes grows very tall; the black ash favors rivers and swamp-land and is not of such a sturdy growth as the white. the fruit of both form in clusters. the bignonia family. the catalpa in june or july is covered with white blossoms mottled with yellow and purple. it is often called "the bean tree" because its fruit is like a long bean in form. these beans hang on a tree nearly all winter. the oak family. this is one of the handsomest of our tree families. the common white oak grows to a height of eighty to one hundred feet, the trunk often reaching a diameter of four feet. the leaves of the chestnut oak and those of the yellow oak resemble the leaves of the chestnut tree. the acorns of the red oak are very large, but the kernels are so bitter that the squirrels leave them untouched upon the ground. the leaves of the scarlet oak are very finely cut and assume brilliant colors in the late fall. there are many other varieties of oaks: straggling little scrub oaks, laurel oaks with laurel-like leaves, and the willow oaks of the southwestern states. [illustration: white oak.] the beech family. the indians believed that the beech tree was lightning-proof, and many farmers seem to favor this belief. the chestnut, which belongs in this group, does not flower until the middle of the summer. unfortunately for the latter tree, a disease is spreading through certain districts that, if not checked, bids fair to exterminate these trees. already in certain parts of the country where chestnuts formerly abounded hardly a living specimen is to be found, or if alive, is in a dying condition. [illustration: elm.] the elm family. this is a family of beautiful trees, widely distributed. the white elm is one of the first trees to respond to spring's first warm days. its tiny flower buds burst their scales and shed them to the ground. it is without question one of the most beautifully shaped trees, and many reach vast proportions. the slippery elm is similar in appearance to the white elm. the bark of the latter tree is soaked in water and drunk for throat affections. the leaves of the elms turn yellow in the fall. their wood is largely used for carriage shafts or wherever wood that does not readily split is needed. it is durable under water, and is, therefore, used for docks and piles. the linden family. these are known in this country as basswood or white-wood; in europe they are called lime trees. their leaves are heart-shaped and the lower surface is downy. the bees are attracted to these trees when they are in bloom. they can easily be recognized in winter by their red buds. the first leaves of spring are a bright green which contrast beautifully with these buds. the wood is used for cabinet work, woodenware and paper pulp. it does not easily warp. the magnolia family. this is a group of trees whose flowers are usually large and white, green, or pink in color. some of this family are cultivated as ornamental trees on lawns. the swamp magnolia, or sweet bay, grows in swampy and damp places. although specially a southern tree, it is found as far north as massachusetts. it blooms in june, having a cream-color fragrant flower, and these blossoms are sold by florists and street pedlars. [illustration: leaves and keys of a maple tree.] tulip tree or yellow poplar is a large tree of this family that blooms especially abundantly upon the southern shores of lake erie. it has greenish-yellow, tulip-shaped flowers. the indians made their dugout canoes from these trees. the maple family. there are more than one hundred species of this family. maples are especially abundant in north america. the sugar maple grows in eastern north america. from its sap is manufactured maple sugar. the method of making this sugar was learned by the american colonists from the indians. in the early spring, when this sap begins to flow, and while it is flowing, the trees are tapped, the sap gathered and boiled down. certain varieties of maple-wood have beautifully spotted grain known as bird's-eye maple. this grain, it is claimed, is produced by wounds made by woodpeckers. this wood is prized for the manufacture of furniture. the red maple is found growing along the edges of streams. it is covered in the spring with tufts of crimson flowers and its foliage is a brilliant red in the autumn. the leaves of the silver maple show no reds in the fall, but are a uniform yellow. the canadians have adopted the maple leaf as their national emblem. the horse chestnut family. the horse chestnut is a native of asia. in may or june it is covered with upright spikes of white blossoms. the buck-eye is the native horse chestnut. the leaves of the buck-eye are five-fingered, while those of the tree commonly called the horse chestnut are seven-fingered. ohio is called the "buck-eye" state and is named after this tree. the mulberry family. the leaves of the mulberry are broad, the flowers small. the leaves of the white mulberry are the food of silkworms. the indian women used the fiber of the mulberry to make garments, baskets, and matting; the japanese and chinese manufactured paper from its bark. the red mulberry is quite common and grows in over two-thirds of the united states. the fruit is similar in appearance to the blackberry; the white mulberry is less widely distributed. the osage orange, or bow-wood, which is a member of this family, grows in arkansas, texas, and indian territory. its fruit resembles the orange in shape and size; its leaves are shiny and it is close and spiny in growth. the plane tree family. the common plane is another tree from the orient; the flowers are green, the fruit are yellow balls which hang on the tree over winter. it grows in rich, moist lands; the wood, which is ruddy in color, is used extensively in the manufacture of cigar boxes. it is also called the sycamore or buttonwood, and is easily distinguished by its bark, which it sheds as it does the leaves; the bark drops off in large irregular pieces, giving the tree a mottled appearance. the walnut family. the black walnut is abundant in the mississippi valley states, especially the middle states. the white walnut is the butternut; the covering of the nut is sticky and gummy. [illustration: shell-bark hickory.] the hickory, which belongs to this family, is an american tree; none of the hickories are found abroad. the bitternut, or swamp hickory, has a kernel which is very bitter. the bark of the shell-bark hickory separates and gives the trunk of the tree a very shaggy, unkempt appearance. the pignut is a hickory, but is worthless as food. the wood of the walnut was formerly much used for the manufacture of furniture. the birch family. this is an interesting family of graceful trees. the white birch, which is the least common, is short-lived. it grows from the st. lawrence southward to delaware. the leaves have a peculiar trembling characteristic. the paper birch is also called the white birch or canoe birch. it is fond of moist places. its bark is white outside and composed of thin layers easily separated; these layers vary in color from a cream to a bright orange-yellow. the indians used the bark of this tree for their canoes and to write their messages on. the red birches are great lovers of water, particularly delighting to hang their boughs over running streams. the alders and ironwoods belong here. the willow family. this is a large tree family; the black willow may be found growing upon the banks of streams and lakes. in the early spring days we gather pussy willows. they are really the flower buds. put them in water and watch the catkins, as the flowers are called, develop. the weeping willow is a native of asia; it grew near ancient babylon. you will remember that the bible tells us that the people of israel hung their harps upon the willow tree by the waters of babylon. they are trees of rapid growth, as are also the aspens and cottonwoods. the last-named trees derive their name from the peculiarity of the seed, which is surrounded by cotton-like fiber. the leaves of the aspen tremble even on calm days and have given rise to the saying, "trembling like an aspen leaf." an old tradition says that the leaves of this tree are never at rest because aspen wood was used in making the cross. the sumach family. one of this family is poisonous and is known as poison sumach. it grows throughout the northern states and can be distinguished from the harmless sumach by its white fruit, the color of the fruit of other sumachs being red, and the fact that it likes wet ground, while its harmless cousins like dry places. to some persons the action of the sumach poison is virulent, causing painful itching eruptions similar to those caused by poison ivy. the pea family. the locust is a tall tree, native to this country, flowering profusely in may and june, being at that time nearly covered with long, hanging clusters of fragrant white blossoms. a small tree, called the red bud, or judas tree, belongs to this family. it is often used as ornamental trees in parks and on lawns. in arkansas it grows in native abundance. the flowers, which are a deep rose color, appear in april or may, about the time that the young leaves are putting in an appearance. they are borne all over the tree, even on the trunk itself. the honey locust has large, finer foliage than the common locust and it is armored and protected by a multitude of sharp thorns. the locust wood is much used in ship-building and fence posts because it resists decay in contact with moisture. it is very strong, hard, and takes a high polish. these trees are now preyed upon by boring insects and are not as popular as they were formerly. the rose family. what boy of the new england or the middle states does not know the choke cherry or wild cherry and its fruit that he gathers and eats, although it puckers his mouth? did you know that these, as well as our cultivated cherries, apples, pears, quinces, and plums, all belong to the same flower family that gives us our roses? the mountain ash also belongs to this family. red ash berries help to brighten up the autumn and winter; in fact, these trees are so attractive when in fruit that they are being largely used for decorative purposes. in europe they are called the rowan trees, and many peculiar tales and superstitions have gathered around them. the pine family. the pines of the united states include many species, most of which are valuable for their timber. the white pine, which attains a great height and favors sandy soil, heads the list. its bark is smoother than any other pine and its cones are long and slender. its wood is soft, compact, and valuable. the wood of the yellow pine is hard and heavy, darker in tone, and much favored for flooring. it does not grow to such a height as the white pine; it is found throughout the southern states. the red pine, or norway pine, favors canada more than our country. the pitch pine grows in sandy and rocky soil or in the cold, swampy lands. the jersey, or scrub pine, grows on sandy soil. the spruces have brighter leaves than the pines and the leaves are not grouped like the pine leaves. the leaves are borne on drooping branches; the cones are pendent; the white spruce grows higher than any other spruce. the cones of the red spruce are large; the resin of both the red and black spruces are used as chewing gum. the hemlock is one of the most graceful of cone-bearing trees. the hemlocks grow rapidly and become very rugged and picturesque. hemlock wood warps when exposed; its bark is used in tanning. the leaves of the balsam are a bright green color above and a silver green color below. they are dried and made into pillows because of their fragrance. arborvitæ, or white hemlock, is cultivated as an ornamental tree. it is much used for hedges. the wild flowers of the united states the wild flowers of the united states. the spring flowers--_white._ [illustration: bloodroot.] go into the woods some day early in april and you will find, pushing up through the last summer's litter, a curled-up leaf. open this leaf and nestling within will be a white flower bud. even when in bloom the leaf surrounds the flower stem as though to protect it. as you pick the flower a red juice oozes out of the stem and stains your hands. this is the blood root and the indians used its juice to stain their faces. just beyond it, bending and nodding in the wind, is the dainty little anemone; there is sometimes a hint of pink or lavender in its white flowers. [illustration: trillium.] among the rocks you will find, swinging, the little dutchman's breeches, with their peculiar little flowers that look like pairs of trousers hung on a line. growing with it will be the saxifrage, whose name means that it breaks rocks. this name was probably given to it because it is usually found growing in the clefts of rocks. as spring advances, the woods are dotted with bright little star flowers and the unpleasantly odorous may apple and the white trillium with its three long petals. the feathery baneberry is in flower when the columbine blooms and when the green-and-brown jacks-in-the-pulpit are preaching in the woods. the jack-in-the-pulpit in shape is not unlike a calla lily. other white flowers of spring are the shad bush that blooms "when the shad run." its red berries ripen in june. pyxie or flowering moss--sandy woods. crinkle root--may woods. the spring flowers--_yellow._ [illustration: yellow adder's tongue.] if you will go down into the swampy meadowland you will find the bright, sturdy marsh marigolds, and in the wet woods adjoining the spice bushes glowing with their fussy little yellow blossoms, and alongside the brook the dog-toothed violet or yellow adder's tongue, rearing their mottled leaves and nodding their yellow blossoms. these are not violets at all, by the way, but lilies. in the may woods are the red and yellow flowers of the wood betony and the bell-shaped flowers of solomon's seal. pull up the solomon's seal root and see the marks on it that look like the impression of a seal. that is how it received its name, although why "solomon's seal" we are unable to answer. bellwort is a little yellowish lily common in the may woods. other yellow spring flowers: coltsfoot--stream banks in may. celandine poppy--woods and hills. corydalis--dry stony woodland. moosewood--wet woods. the spring flowers--_pink._ in company with the blood root and dog-toothed violets and the dainty anemones are the pretty little pink-veined spring beauties, with their slender leaves and graceful stems. lucky are you if you chance to live where the trailing arbutus grows, with its deliciously perfumed waxy flowers under last summer's dead leaves. the new englanders call it the may flower. the attractive blossoms of the rhodora brighten the woods with their splendor. this is a wild rhododendron and belongs to the same family as the wild honeysuckle that blossoms in the moist places in may. other pink spring flowers: showy orchis--may woods. wild pink--rocky edges of woods. the spring flowers--_red._ heading this list comes the columbine, and if you will gather this flower you must be prepared to climb, for it is fond of nooks and crannies difficult to reach. starting up from three broad leaves the little flower of the wake robin thrusts itself upon our attention; it is not shy or retiring like the arbutus or the timid little blushing spring beauty. [illustration: columbine.] the spring flowers--_blue and purple._ first of the blues comes the fuzzy-stemmed and fuzzy-budded hepatica, which is known also by the ugly name of "liverwort." sometimes the flowers fade to a white, sometimes to a pinkish lavender. the one symbol of springtime is the violet. when the violet comes we know that winter has gone for good. the wild geranium or cranebill grows and blossoms sturdily when the anemones and spring beauties are getting scarce. other blue and purple spring flowers: bluets or quaker ladies--meadows and roadsides. larkspur--not found east of pennsylvania. cancer root--wet woods. early summer flowers--_white._ early in june you will see in the woods and fields a shrub that looks like a young maple tree blooming abundantly with clusters of white flowers. it is the dockmackie, or the maple-leaved viburnum. if you live on the hills of the hudson or pennsylvania you will have the opportunity yearly of seeing the mountain laurel in flower, a shrub that is cultivated and highly esteemed in england. the stamens of the flowers are caught in little pockets, and as the insect alights on these they are loosened and fly upward, shaking the pollen on to the body of the insect. blooming in the same location may be found the wild rhododendron, which belongs to the same family as the mountain laurel. another member of this family is the swamp honeysuckle or the clammy azalea; both of these are shrubs. the latter is usually found among the swampy coast lands. still another member of this heath family, to which the mountain laurel and rhododendron belong, is the little shin leaf, with its lily-of-the-valley-like flowers. growing alongside of it you are very likely to find the pipsissewa, with its beautiful perfume and ever-green leaves. june is the month when the meadows are whitened by the daisies. other early summer white flowers: wood sorrel--june woods. sweet cicely--sweet-tasting root. marsh andromeda--swampy places. staggerbush--low dry places. early summer flowers--_yellow._ in may or june hunt for the yellow lady slipper or whip-poor-will's shoe, a pretty little yellow orchid. mr. baldwin, writing of orchids of new england, says: "its preference is for maples, beeches, and particularly butternuts, and for sloping or hilly ground, and i always look with glad suspicion at a knoll covered with ferns, cohoshes, and trilliums, expecting to see a clump of this plant among them. its sentinel-like habit of choosing 'sightly places' leads it to venture well up on mountain-sides." the straggly flower heads of the hawk weed, or rattlesnake weed, that looks like little dandelions, will be found in the dry pine woods at this time of the year. its leaves are veined with purple and thought to resemble the markings of the rattlesnake. this has given it its name. we need no introduction to the common dandelion that carpets our lawns with a cloth of gold, much to the disgust of the gardener, who roots them out as weeds. another flower of the waste places is a pretty little toad flax, or butter-and-eggs. it is probably called "butter-and-eggs" because of the two shades of yellow. its juice, mixed with milk, makes a good fly poison. in the same localities may be found the st. john's wort, with its numerous little flowers, and both the moth mullein and common mullein. the old romans used to dip the dry stalk of the common mullein in fat and use it as a torch. the moth mullein is tenderer than the common mullein. the flowers are tipped with red and purple. other early summer yellow flowers: cinquefoil--fields and roadsides. bush honeysuckle--hillsides. four-leaved loosestrife--roadsides. yellow loosestrife--wet places. early summer flowers--_pink._ the pink lady slipper, like the yellow, is another orchid. baldwin, to whom we have referred before, tells us where he usually found them; he says: "the finest specimens i ever saw sprang out of a cushion of crisp reindeer moss high up among the rocks of the exposed hillside, and again i have found it growing vigorously in hills upon swamps, but nearly colorless from excessive moisture." he further says that "a lady who has found it in the adirondacks says she found it to have a great fondness for decaying wood and often saw a whole row perched like birds along a crumbling log." a smaller laurel with dark pink flowers blooms in june. it is called "lamb-killer," because of the belief that it is poisonous to sheep. corydalis--rocky woods. adder's mouth--swamps. early summer flowers--_red._ thoreau writes: "the painted cup is in its prime. it reddens the meadow, painted cup meadow. it is a splendid show of brilliant scarlet, the color of the cardinal flower and surpasses it in mass and profusion. i do not like the name; it does not remind me of a cup, rather of a flame when it first appears. it might be called 'flame flower' or 'scarlet tip.' here is a large meadow full of it, and very few in the town have ever seen it. it is startling to see a leaf thus brilliantly painted, as if its tip were dipped into some scarlet mixture, surpassing most flowers in intensity of color." early summer flowers--_blue and purple._ the blue-eye grass, which belongs to the same family as the blue flag, carpets the moist meadows at this season of the year. the blue flag and fleur-de-lis is the flower of france; the name "fleur-de-lis," the flower of louis, king louis vii having chosen it as his particular badge. look for it in damp meadow grounds in june. early in june the wild lupine blooms, painting the hillside blue. summer--_white._ if you go into the woods where the evergreens grow in july you will find the little wintergreen in bloom. later in the year you will find the little red wintergreen berries. along the roadside you will find the daisy-like flowers of the chamomile or may weed. from the leaves of this plant our grandmothers used to make chamomile tea. a shrub that you will find in bloom in the july woods is the new jersey tea, with its clusters of feathery flowers. at the time of the american revolution our forefathers used its leaves to make a substitute for the imported tea on which great britain imposed a tax. another flower of the summer woods and hillsides is the cohosh, with a stem from three to eight feet high. its odor is supposed to be distasteful to insects. the elders are a mass of white blossoms at this time of the year, and later crowned with purplish berries from which elderberry wine is made. a common plant of the july roadsides is the pokeweed. its flowers are less conspicuous than its fruit. it has long clusters of dark berries. country boys make "ink" from the juice of these berries. the boneset is another wayside flower. our grandmothers made boneset tea from its leaves when we were in danger of colds or malaria. its flowers are dull white; it belongs to the same family as the golden-rod. other summer white flowers: thimbleweed--woods and meadows. white avens--edges of woods. wild cucumber--along river banks. yarrow--roadsides. no article on wild flowers of the united states would be complete without mention of "queen anne's lace," while some call it "bird's nest," from the habit of the curling up of the old flowers into a nest-like shape. summer--_yellow._ one of the most conspicuous yellow flowers is the meadow lily, or the wild yellow lily. the st. john's wort is a common flower of this season of the year. it seems to flourish in the waste places, while both the moth mullein and the common mullein are close companions. when the white daisies are beginning to wane, the yellow daisies or black-eyed susans begin to bloom. the jewel weed is also called by some "touch-me-not," on account of the few seed pods, which burst when touched, showing the seeds. at twilight and in the early morning the evening primrose opens its dull yellow blossoms. during the middle of the day the flowers are closed. other summer yellow flowers: yellow clover--fields and roadsides. bladderwort--ponds and streams. partridge pea--sandy soil. summer--_pink._ probably the foremost among these is the common milkweed, with its dull pink clustered flowers that later turn into a pod filled with silky fibers, which the children love to break open and set afloat in the wind. it is called "milkweed" on account of the white sticky fluid which it exhumes from the broken stems. along the roadside and meadows purplish-pink flowers of the fireweed are in bloom. [illustration: meadow lily.] one of the most beautiful of the pink midsummer flowers is the mallow that makes lively our swamps with its large pale pink flowers. other summer pink flowers: steeplebush--low places. purple loosestrife--marshes. meadow beauty--sandy soil. tick trefoil--midsummer woods. summer--_red._ two lilies of midsummer are the wild lily and the turk's cap lily; the turk's cap lily, with its drooping flowers, and the wild lily, with its upright flowers, that grow in our meadows, the wild lily in the shady woods. here and there in the midsummer fields is a patch of the bright flame-color orange-red butterfly weed. this belongs to the milkweed family. they present to the eye some of the most vivid patches of color of the summer fields. summer--_blue and purple._ growing in the waste places from june until september are the closed heads of the "self heal," with its bluish-purple flowers and the spikes of the dainty little vervain. blooming in midsummer is the aromatic little pennyroyal, one of the mint family. late summer and autumn--_yellow._ without doubt the one flower that holds the foremost rank of the late summer and autumn flowers is the golden-rod. the wild sunflower and the bur marigold, or "stick-tight," belong to the same family as the golden-rod, the composite family. witch-hazel shrubs are now coming into bloom, blooming when everything else is getting ready for the winter nap. other late summer yellow flowers: false foxgloves--dry woodland. yellow thistle--sandy coast soil. late summer and autumn--_white._ the rattlesnake plantain has peculiar leaves veined with white. the indians believed that application of the leaves of this plant would cure a snake bite. one of the shrubs that blooms at this season of the year is the sweet pepperbush, which is becoming popular as a cultivated shrub in our gardens and lawns. it seems to bloom best in those localities where there is considerable moisture in the atmosphere. the dry fields are now thickly covered with the white asters. other late summer white flowers: ladies' tresses--wet places in autumn. pearly everlasting--woods and fields. late summer and autumn--_pink._ a common roadside flower is the pink knotweed, with its branching stems and groups of bright pink flowers. [illustration: pink knotweed.] the bouncing bet is now growing sturdily, with its pinkish-white flowers, and close to the butterfly weed blooms the "joe pye weed," with its dusky purplish-pink clusters, while the golden-rod and asters are in flower. other late summer pink flowers: purple gerardia--low dry ground. false dragon head--wet fields. late summer and autumn--_red._ in the late summer, along the edges of ponds and streams and in the midst of swamps, gleam the bright, ragged flowers of the cardinal flower, the brightest red flower of early autumn. late summer and autumn--_blue and purple._ the blue chicory or succory brightens up our roadsides in late summer when the fields are full of blue and purple asters. there are over one hundred different species of wild asters, all belonging to the composite family, the same family that the golden-rod, daisies, and sunflowers are members of. the composite family, in fact, is in majority at this season of the year. both the closed and fringed gentian come to us in late september, with their beautiful blue flowers--blue of a beautiful shade. other late summer flowers--blue and purple: blazing star--marsh land. iron weed--roadsides and fields. index page adder's mouth, alder, alligator tree, anemones, , , apples, arborvitæ, arbutus, , ash, mountain black, white, aspen, asters, , , avens, white, azaleas, clammy, balsam, baneberry, basswood, bay, sweet, beech, betony, wood, bellwort, bignonia family, birch, paper, red, white, bird's nest, bitternut, black-eyed susans, black ash, black spruce, black walnut, black willow, bladderwort, blazing star, bloodroot, blue-eyed grass, blue flag, bluets, boneset, bouncing bet, bow-wood, buck-eye, bur marigold, bush honeysuckle, butter-and-eggs, butterfly weed, , butternut, buttonwood, cancer root, cardinal flower, , catalpa, celandine poppy, chamomile, cherry, choke, wild, chestnut, horse, chestnut oak, chicory, chokecherry, cinquefoil, clammy azaleas, closed gentian, clover, yellow, cohosh, coltsfoot, columbine, , , corydalis, , cottonwood, cranebill, crinkle root, daisies, yellow, dandelion, , dockmackie, dog-tooth violets, , dogwood, dutchman's breeches, elderberries, elm, , slippery, white, evening primrose, false dragon head, false foxgloves, fireweed, flag, blue, fleur-de-lis, flowering moss, four-leaved loosestrife, foxgloves, false, fringed gentian, gentian, closed, fringed, geranium, wild, gerardia, golden-rod, , , hawk weed, hemlock, white, hepatica, hickory, shell-bark, , swamp, honey locust, honeysuckle, bush, swamp, wild, horse chestnuts, iron weed, ironwood, jack-in-the-pulpit, jewel weed, joe-pye weed, judas tree, knotweed, , ladies' tresses, lady's slipper, pink, yellow, , lamb-killer, larkspur, laurel oaks, laurel, mountain, , lily, meadow, , lily, turk's cap, lily, wild, wild yellow, lime tree, linden, liquidambar, liverwort, locust, honey, loosestrife, four-leaved, purple, yellow, lupine, wild, magnolia, swamp, mallow, maple, , red, silver, sugar, maple-leaved viburnum, marigold, bur, marigolds, marsh, marsh andromeda, marsh marigolds, may apple, may flower, may weed, meadow beauty, meadow lily, , milkweed, , moosewood, moth mullein, , mountain ash, mountain laurel, , mulberry, red, white, mullein, common, , moth, , new jersey tea, norway pine, oak, chestnut, laurel, red, scarlet, scrub, white, , willow, yellow, olive, orchis, showy, osage orange, painted cup, paper birch, partridge pea, pea family, pearly everlasting, pears, pennyroyal, pignut, pine, norway, pitch, red, scrub, white, yellow, pink knotweed, , wild, pink lady's slipper, pipsissewa, pitch pine, plane tree family, plantain, rattlesnake, plums, poison sumach, pokeweed, poplar, yellow, poplar tree, poppy, celandine, primrose, evening, purple loosestrife, pussy willow, pyxie, quaker ladies, queen anne's lace, rattlesnake plantain, rattlesnake weed, red birch, red bud, red maple, red mulberry, red oak, red pine, red spruce, rhododendron, , wild, , rhodora, rose family, rowan trees, st john's wort, , saxifrage, scarlet oak, scrub oak, scrub pine, self heal, shad bush, shell-bark hickory, , shin leaf, showy orchis, silver maple, slippery elm, solomon's seal, sorrel, wood, spice bush, spring beauty, , spruce, black, red, white, staggerbush, star flowers, steeplebush, stick-tight, succory, sugar maple, sumach, poison, sunflower, wild, swamp hickory, honeysuckle, magnolia, sweet bay, sweet cicely, sweetgum, sweet pepperbush, sycamore, thimble weed, thistle, yellow, tick trefoil, toad flax, touch-me-not, trees of the united states, trilliums, , tulip tree, turk's cap lily, viburnum, maple-leaved, violet, , , dog-tooth, , wake robin, walnut, , black, white, weeping willow, whip-poor-will's shoe, white ash, white avens, white birch, white elm, white hemlock, white mulberry, white oak, , white pine, white spruce, white walnut, white-wood, wild cherry, wild cucumber, wild flowers of the united states, wild geranium, wild honeysuckle, wild lily, wild lupine, wild pink, wild rhododendron, , wild sunflower, wild yellow lily, willow, black, pussy, weeping, willow oak, witch-hazel family, , wintergreen, wood betony, wood sorrel, yarrow, yellow adder's tongue, yellow clover, yellow daisies, yellow lady's slipper, , yellow loosestrife, yellow oak, yellow pine, yellow poplar, yellow thistle, the campfire and trail series . in camp on the big sunflower. . the rivals of the trail. . the strange cabin on catamount island. . lost in the great dismal swamp. . with trapper jim in the north woods. . caught in a forest fire. by lawrence j. leslie a series of wholesome stories for boys told in an interesting way and appealing to their love of the open. _each, mo. cloth. cents per volume_ the new york book company fourth avenue new york * * * * * transcriber's notes: obvious punctuation errors repaired. text uses both scout master and scout-master. advertising page listing hickory ridge books, "chenoweth" changed to "chenowith" to match actual usage in books. page , "vamose" changed to "vamoose" (wanted to vamoose in a) page , "samee" changed to "same" (all the same) page , "more's" changed to "more'n" (a feller more'n a skinned) page , "drank" changed to "drunk" (drunk for throat) page , "hawkweed" changed to "hawk weed" to match usage in text. page , "whip-poor-will's" changed to "whip-poor-will's" to match usage in text. the boy scouts in russia _by_ captain john blaine _illustrated by_ e.a. furman the saalfield publishing company chicago akron, ohio new york copyright, by saalfield publishing company [illustration: "go! hurry! get this coat and helmet off me!"] contents chapter page i the border ii under arrest iii a strange meeting iv cousins v the germans vi the tunnel vii a daring ruse viii within the enemy's lines ix "there's many a slip--" x sentenced xi the cossacks xii the trick xiii the escape xiv altered plans xv a dash through the night xvi between the grindstones xvii an old enemy xviii the great white czar in russian trenches chapter i the border a train had just come to a stop in the border station of virballen. half of the platform of that station is in russia; half of it in east prussia, the easternmost province of the german empire. all trains that pass from one country to the other stop there. there are customs men, soldiers, policemen, prussian and russian, who form a gauntlet all travelers must run. here passports must be shown, trunks opened. getting in or out of russia is not a simple business, even in the twentieth century. all sorts of people can't come in while a good many who try to get out are turned back, and may have to make a long journey to siberia if they cannot account for themselves properly. this train had stopped in the dead of night. but, dark and late as it was, there was the usual bustle and stir. everyone had to wake up and submit to the questioning of police and customs men. about the only people who can escape such inquisition at virballen or any other russian border station are royalties and ambassadors. most of the passengers, however, didn't have to come out on the platform. in this case, indeed, only two descended. one of these was treated by the police officials with marked respect. he was the sort of man to inspire both respect and fear. very tall, he was heavily bearded, but not so heavily as to prevent the flashing of his teeth in a grim and unpleasant smile. nor were his eyes hidden as the rays of the station lights fell upon them. he was called "excellency" by the policemen who spoke to him, but he ignored these men, save for a short, quick nod with which he acknowledged their respectful greetings. his whole attention was devoted to the boy by his side, who was looking up at him defiantly. this boy won a tribute of curious looks from all who saw him, and some glances of admiration when it became increasingly plain that he did not share the universal feeling of awe for the man by his side. this was accounted for, partly at least, it might be supposed, by the fact that he wasn't a russian. the americans in the train, had they been out on the platform, would have recognized him at once for he was sturdily and obviously american. the train began to move. with a shrill shriek from the engine, and the banging of doors, it glided out of the station. soon its tail lights were swinging out of sight. but the russian and the american boy remained, while the train, with its load of free and cheerful passengers, went on toward berlin. "you wouldn't let me take the train. well, what are you going to do with me now?" asked the boy. his tone was as defiant as his look and if he was afraid, he didn't show it. he wasn't afraid, as a matter of fact. he was angry. the russian considered him for a moment, saying not a word. then he called in a low, hushed tone, and three or four policemen came running up. "you see this boy?" he asked. "yes, excellency." "it has pleased his majesty the czar, acting through the administration of the police of st. petersburg, to expel him from his dominions. he is honored by my personal attention. i in person am executing the order of his majesty. i shall now conduct him to the exact border line and see to it that he is placed on german soil. his name is frederick waring. on no pretext is he to be allowed to return to russian soil. should he succeed in doing so, he is to be arrested, denied the privilege of communication with any friend, or with the consul or ambassador of any foreign nation, and delivered to me in petersburg. you will receive this order in due form to-night. understood?" "yes, excellency." "photographs will be attached to the official order." he turned again to the boy, and for just a moment the expressionless mask was swept from his eyes by a look of fierce hatred. "now, then, step forward! as soon as you have passed the line on the platform you will be on german territory, subject to german law. i give you a word of good advice. do not offend against the german authorities. you will find them less merciful than i." "i'm not afraid of you," said fred. he was angry, but his voice was steady nevertheless. "you've cheated me. you've had my passport and my money taken from me. what do you think i can do, when you land me in a strange country in the middle of the night, without a kopeck in my pocket? but i'll find a way to get back at you. any man who would treat me the way you have done is sure to have treated some other people badly, too. and i'll find them--perhaps they'll be stronger than i." "your papers were confiscated in due process," said the russian. he smiled very evilly. "as for your threats--pah! do you think your word would carry any weight against that of mikail suvaroff, a prince of russia, a friend of the grand duke nicholas and general of the army?" "oh, you're a great man," said fred. "i know that. but you're not so great that you don't have to keep straight. you may think i had no business to come to russia. perhaps you are right, but that's no reason for you to treat me like this. after all, you're my uncle--" "silence!" said suvaroff harshly, startled at the carrying power of the boy's voice. fred stepped nimbly across the line. "you can't touch me now, by your own word!" he taunted. "i'm in germany, and your authority stops at the border! i say, i could forget everything except the way you've put me down here in the middle of the night, without a cent to my name or a friend i can call on! you needn't have done that. i don't suppose you took my money--you don't need it--but you let your underlings take it." "i do not know that you ever had the money you say was taken from you," said suvaroff, controlling himself. "it is easy for you to make such a charge. but the officers who arrested you deny that they found any money in your possession. there is no reason to take your word against them." fred stared at him curiously for a moment. "gee! you do hate us--and me!" he said, slowly. "i think you really believe all you've said about me! well, i'm glad if that's so. it gives you a sort of excuse for behaving the way you have to me. and i'd certainly hate to think that any relative of mine could act like you unless he thought he was in the right, anyhow!" suvaroff strangled with anger for a moment. his cruel eyes became narrow. "i have changed my mind!" he cried, suddenly. "seize him! bring him back!" fred stood perfectly still as two or three policemen and a couple of soldiers in the white uniform coats of russia came toward him. he knew that it would be useless either to run or to fight. but, as it turned out, there was no need for him to do either, for from behind him a sharp order was snapped out by a young man who had been listening with interest. quietly a file of german soldiers with spiked helmets stepped forward. "your pardon, excellency," said the german officer. "it is, of course, quite impossible for us to permit russian officials or soldiers to make an arrest on our side of the line!" "a matter of courtesy--" began suvaroff. "pardon again," said the german, very softly. "just at this moment courtesy must be suspended. with a general mobilization in effect upon both sides--" suvaroff suppressed the angry exclamation that was on his lips. for a moment, however, he seemed about to repeat his order, though his men had halted at the sight of german bayonets. "i should regret a disturbance," said the german, still speaking in his quiet voice. "my orders are to permit my men to do nothing that might bring on a clash, for just now the firing of a single shot would make war certain. yet there is nothing in my orders to forbid me to resist an act of aggression by russia. we are prepared for war, though we do not seek it." fred, almost losing interest in his own pressing troubles at this sudden revelation of a state of affairs of which he had known nothing whatever, looked fixedly at suvaroff. he saw the russian bite his lips, hesitate, and finally take off his hat and make a sweeping bow to the german officer. "i agree, mein herr lieutenant," he said, mockingly. "the time has come, i think. it may be that the fortunes of war will bring us together. meanwhile i wish you joy of him you have saved!" the german did not answer. he watched the departing russians and then, smiling faintly, he turned to fred. "i'll have to ask you to give some account of yourself, if you please," he said, in excellent english. "i'm lieutenant ernst, of the prussian army. sentenced to guard duty here--for my sins. now will you tell me what all this means?" "i had a passport," said fred directly, and meeting the german's eyes frankly. "prince suvaroff is my uncle, my mother's brother. her family refused to recognize my mother after her marriage to my father, and so prince suvaroff does not like me. i had to see him on business and family matters. i was arrested. my passport and my money were taken away from me--and you saw what happened. he took me off the train and put me across the border." ernst nodded. "things are done so in russia--sometimes," he said. "not always, but they are possible, for a great noble. well, i have seen things nearly as bad in my own prussia! i shall have to see what may be done for you. if you reach berlin, your ambassador will be able to help you, yes?" "i am quite sure of it," said fred, eagerly. "i don't want to trouble you, but if you could help me to get there--" a soldier interrupted him. he stepped up to ernst, saluted, and, permission given, spoke in the officer's ear. ernst started. "one minute," he said. "i am called away--i will return in one minute." the minute dragged itself out. in all directions there was a rising sound, confused, urgent. fifteen minutes passed. then a soldier came to fred. "the lieutenant will see you inside," he said, gravely. fred followed him. ernst, his face sober, but with shining eyes, spoke to him at once. "war has been declared," he said. "war between germany and russia! my young friend, you are in hard luck! the train from which you were expelled is the last that will even start for berlin until the mobilization is complete." outside there was a sudden rattle of rifle fire. fred stared at the german officer. "that is the beginning," he said. "we happen to have the stronger force here. we are taking possession of the russian side of the border station! i wish we might catch suvaroff--he is a good soldier, that one at least, and worth a division to the russians. but there'll be no such luck. he'll have got away, of course--a fast motor, or some such way. and they've got more troops close up than we have." and still fred stared. he seemed unable to realize that this popping of rifles, this calm, undemonstrative series of statements by an unexcited german officer, meant that war had come at last--the european war of which people even in america had talked for years as sure to come! "as for you, i meant, of course, to lend you the money and let you go on to berlin," said ernst. "now i can lend you the money, but there will be no trains. you can't stay here. the russians, i think, will advance very quickly, and it will not be here that we shall try to stop them, but further back and among the lakes to the south. even if there is a concentration, however, foreigners will not be wanted." "what shall i do?" asked fred. "you speak german?" "yes." "then i shall lend you some money--what i can spare. you can start back toward koenigsberg and danzig. your consul will be able to help you. you can walk and the people will gladly sell you food." "yes, and thank you for the chance, i'm a boy scout; i won't mind a hike at all." chapter ii under arrest so it was arranged for fred waring, thousands of miles from home, to start from virballen. the lieutenant who had saved him from suvaroff lent him what money he could spare, though all told it was less than a hundred marks, which is twenty dollars. "good-bye, and good luck go with you," said ernst. "if we do not meet again it will be a real good-bye. if you can send the money back, let it go to my mother in danzig. if you cannot, do not let it worry you! if any people ask you questions, answer them quickly. if any tell you to stop, stop! remember that this is war time and every stranger is suspected. you will be in no danger if you will remember to answer questions and obey orders." "thank you again--and good-bye," said fred. he had known this german officer for only a few minutes, but he felt that he was parting from a good friend, and, indeed, he was. not many men would have been so considerate and so kindly, especially at such a time, to a strange boy from a foreign land, and one, moreover, who had certainly not come with the best of recommendations. "i--i hope you'll come through all right." "that's to be seen," said ernst, with a shrug of the shoulders. "in war who can tell? we take our chances, we who live by the sword. if a russian is to get me, he will do so, and it will not help to be afraid, or to think of the chances that i may not see the end of what has been begun to-night! we have been getting ready for years. now we shall know before long if we have done enough. the test has come for us of the fatherland." and then fred said a bold thing. "i can wish you good luck and a safe return, lieutenant," he said. "but i can't wish that your country may be victorious because my mother, after all, was a russian." "i wouldn't ask that of you," said ernst, with a laugh. "even though it is prince suvaroff's country, too?" "there are germans you do not like, i suppose--who are even your enemies," said fred. "yet now you will forget all that, will you not?" "god helping us, yes!" said ernst. "you are right. your heart must be with your own. but you don't seem like a russian, or i would not be helping you." then fred was off, going on his way into the darkness alone. ernst had told him which road to follow, telling him that if he stuck to it he would not be likely to run into any troop movements. "don't see too much. that is a good rule for one who is in a country at war," he had advised. "if you know nothing, you cannot tell the enemy anything useful, and there will be less reason for our people to make trouble for you. your only real danger lies in being taken for a spy. and if you are careful not to learn things, that will not be a very great one." fred was not at all afraid, as a matter of fact, as he set out. before he had stepped across the mark that stood for the border he had been hugely depressed. he had been friendless and alone. he had been worse than friendless, indeed, since the only man for many miles about who knew him was his bitter enemy. now he had found that he could still inspire a man like ernst with belief in his truthfulness and honesty, and the knowledge did him a lot of good. and then, of course, he had another excellent reason for not being afraid. he was entirely ignorant of the particular dangers that were ahead of him. he had no conception at all of what lay before him, and it does not require bravery not to fear a danger the very existence of which one is entirely without knowledge. the idea of walking all through the summer night, as ernst had advised him to do, did not seem bad to him at all. as a scout at home, he had taken part in many a hike, and if few of them had been at night, he was still thoroughly accustomed to being out-of-doors, without even the shelter of a tent or a lean-to. nor was he afraid of losing his way, for as long as the stars shone above, as they did brilliantly now, he had a sure guide. fred wasn't tired, for he had enraged suvaroff, who had seemingly wanted him to be frightened, by sleeping during the journey to virballen whenever he could. it had been comfortable enough on the train; he had not been treated as a prisoner, but as a guest. and he had, as a matter of fact, been aroused only an hour before the train had reached the frontier. so he had been able to start out boldly and confidently. in the country through which he was now tramping the nights are cool in summer, but the days are very hot. so fred had made up his mind, as soon as he understood that he had a good deal of walking before him, to do as much of his traveling as was possible by night, and to sleep during the day. in east prussia, as in some parts of canada, the summer is short and hot; the winter long and cold. there was nothing about the silent countryside, as he tramped along an excellent road, to make him think of war. the fields about him seemed to be planted less with grain; they were very largely used for pasture, and he saw a good many horses. he remembered now that this was the great horse breeding district of germany. here there were great estates with many acres of rolling land on which great numbers of horses were bred. it was here, he knew, that the german army, needing great numbers of horses every year, found its mounts. "they'll need more than ever now," he thought to himself. "if there's really to be war, i suppose they'll take every horse that's able to work at all, whether it's a good looking beast or not. poor horses! they don't have much chance, i guess." he thought of the cossacks he had seen in russia, wiry, small men, in the main, mounted on shaggy, strong, little horses, no bigger in reality than ponies. he had heard of the prowess of the cossacks, of course. they had fought well in the past in a good many wars. but somehow it seemed rather absurd to match them, with their undersized horses, against magnificent specimens of men and horseflesh such as the german cavalry. he had passed a squadron of uhlans, near virballen, outlined against the sky. they had been grim and business-like in appearance. but then the cossacks were that, too, though in an entirely different way. "i wish i had someone along!" he thought, at last. that was when the dawn was beginning to break. off to the east the sun was beginning to rise, and in the grey half light before full day there was something stark and gaunt about the country. before him smoke was rising, probably from a village. but that sign of human habitation, that certain indication that people were near, somehow only made him feel lonelier than he had been in the starlit darkness of the night. this would be good enough fun, if only one of his many friends back home were along--jack french, or steve vedder. it was with them that he had shared such adventures in the past. and yet not just such adventures, either. this was more real than anything his adventures as a boy scout had brought him, though he belonged to a patrol that got in a lot of outdoor work, and that camped out every summer in a practical way. being alone took some of the zest out of what had seemed, once lieutenant ernst's loan had saved him from his most pressing worry, likely to be a bully adventure. now it seemed rather flat and stale. but that was partly because having tramped all night, he was really beginning to be tired. so he went on to the village, and there he found a little inn, where he got a good breakfast and a bed, in which, as soon as he had eaten his meal, he was sound asleep. few men were about the village when he went in. he had noticed, however, the curious little throng, early as it was, about a bulletin ominously headed, "kriegzustand!" that meant mobilization and war. the men had answered the call already, all except those who were too old to spring to arms at once. some of the older ones, he knew, would be called out, too, for garrison duty, so that younger men might go to the front. in his sleep he had many dreams, but the most insistent one was made up of the tramp of heavy feet and the blowing of bugles and the rattling of horses' feet. and this wasn't a dream at all, for when he awoke it was to find a soldier shaking him roughly by the shoulders, and ordering him to get up. and outside were all the sounds of his dream. the sun was high for he had been asleep for several hours. so he got up willingly enough, and hurried his dressing because he remembered what ernst had told him. then he followed the soldier downstairs, and found himself the prisoner in an impromptu sort of court-martial. really, it wasn't as bad as that. considering that he had no passports and nothing, in fact, to show who he was, and that no responsible person could vouch for him, he was very lucky. it was because he was a boy, and obviously an american boy, that he got off so easily. for after he had answered a few questions, a major explained the situation to him very punctiliously. "you must be detained here for two or three days," said the major. "this is an important concentration district, and many things will happen that no foreigner can be allowed to see. we believe absolutely that you are not unfriendly, and that you have no intention of reporting anything you might chance to learn to an enemy. but in time of war we may not take any risks, and you will, therefore, be required to remain in this village under observation. "within the village limits you will be as free as if you were at home, in your own country. you will not be allowed to pass them, however, and if you try to do so a sentry will shoot you. as soon as certain movements are completed, you will be at liberty to pass on, on your way to koenigsberg. i will add to lieutenant ernst's advice. when you reach koenigsberg, after you have reported yourself to the police, wait there until a train can take you to berlin. it will mean only a few days of waiting, for at koenigsberg there are already many refugees, and the authorities want to get them to berlin as soon as the movements of troop trains allow the railway to be reopened for passenger traffic." fred agreed to all this. there was nothing else for him to do, for one thing, and, for another, he was by no means unwilling to see whatever there might be to be seen here. he could guess by this time that without any design he had stumbled on a spot that was reckoned rather important by the germans, for the time being at least, and he had heard enough about the wonderful efficiency of the german army to be anxious to see that mighty machine in the act of getting ready to move. he did see a good deal, as a matter of fact, that day and the next. it was on the famous saturday night of the first of august that he had left virballen. sunday brought news of a clash with france, far away on the western border, and of the german invasion of belgium. monday brought word of a definite declaration of war between germany and france, and of the growing danger that england, too, might be involved. and all of sunday and all of monday supplies of all sorts poured through the little village in an unceasing stream. motor cars and trucks were to be seen in abundance, and fred caught his first glimpse, which was not to be his last, of the wonderful german field kitchens, in the mighty ovens of which huge loaves of bread were being baked even while the whole clumsy looking apparatus was on the move. but it only looked clumsy. like everything else about the german army, this was a practical and efficient, well tried device. then suddenly, early on tuesday, he was told that he was free to go, or would be by nightfall. and that day all signs of the german army, save a small force of uhlans, vanished from the village. that evening, refreshed and ready for the road again, fred set out. and that same evening, though he did not know it until the next day, england entered the war against germany. chapter iii a strange meeting as he walked west fred noticed, even in the night, a change in the country. it was not that he passed once in a while a solitary soldier guarding a culvert, as he neared a railway, or a patrol, with its twinkling fire, watching this spot or that that needed special guarding. that was part of war, the part of war that he had been able to foresee. it wasn't anything due to the war that made an impression on his mind so much as a sort of thickening of the country. though he had traveled so short a distance from the russian border, there seemed to be more people about. great houses, rising on high ground, with small, contented looking villages nestling, as it were, under their protection, were frequent. he was, as a matter of fact, in a country of great aristocratic landholders, the great nobles of prussia, the men who are the real rulers of the country, under the prussian king, who is also the german kaiser. and in many of these great houses lights were burning, even after midnight, when all signs of life in the villages had ceased. the country was stirring, and there was more of it to stir. now from time to time he heard the throbbing hum of an automobile motor. only one or two of these passed him, going in either direction, on the road along which he was traveling. but there were parallel roads, and he could hear the throbbing motors on these, and often see the pointing shafts of light from their lights, searching out the road before them as they sped along. fred knew enough of germany to understand something of what he saw and heard. it was from these great houses that a great many officers were contributed to the army. these young men had no real career before them from their birth, almost, except in the army. so it was easy to guess why the lights were burning in those mansions, and why there was anxiety among them, and why the throbbing motor cars were humming over the roads. if germany were beaten back in the beginning, if the task she had undertaken proved too heavy, this was the province that was sure to feel the first brunt of invasion. behind him, to the east, fred knew were the great masses of russia, moving slowly, but with a terrible, always increasing force. no wonder these people were stirring, were sending out all their men to drive back the huge power that lay so near them, a constant menace! but now, though he did not know it, fred was approaching real danger for the first time. many of the motors he saw and heard were going west. though he could not guess it, they were carrying women and children away from the old houses that were too much exposed, too directly in the path of a possible invasion for the helpless ones to be left in them when the men had gone to fight. all germany had to be defended. it happened to be the part of east prussia to bear invasion, if it came to that. and so the people of the great houses were making their migration. the men went to their regiments; the women to berlin, and to the great fortresses that lay nearer than berlin--koenigsberg, danzig, thorn. this was historic country that fred was traversing, the same country that had trembled beneath the thundering march of napoleon's grand army more than a hundred years before, when the great emperor had launched the mad adventure against russia that had sealed his fate. but he didn't think of these things, except of napoleon, as he trudged along. once more he traveled through the night. once more, as the first signs of morning came, he began to feel tired, and, despite the food he had carried with him which he had stopped to eat about midnight, he was hungry. and, as had been the case on the night of his tramp from virballen, the first rays of the rising sun showed him a village. it was in a hollow, and above it the ground rose sharply to a large house, evidently very old, built of a grey stone that had been weathered by the winds and rains of centuries. it was a very old house, and strangely out of tune, it seemed to fred, with the country though not with the times. it was so old that it showed some traces of fortification, and fred knew how long it was since private houses had been built with any view to defence. it was a survivor of the days when this whole region had been an outpost of civilization against hordes of barbarian invaders. one curious thing he noticed at once about the great house. no flag was flying from it, though it boasted a sort of turret from which a flag might well have been flung out to the wind. all the other big houses he had seen had had flags out and the absence of a standard here seemed significant, somehow. when he entered the village he found that there was no inn. he saw the usual notice of mobilization and the proclamation of war, but the people were not stirring yet. he had to wait for some time before he found a house where people were up. they looked at him curiously, but grudgingly consented to give him breakfast. there was an old man, and another who was younger, but crippled. and this cripple was the one who seemed most puzzled by fred's appearance in the place. he surveyed him closely and twice fred caught him whispering, evidently about him. then the cripple slipped away and came back, just as fred was finishing his meal, with a pompous looking, superannuated policeman, recalled to duty since the younger men had all gone to war. this man asked many questions which fred answered. "you are american?" asked the policeman, finally. "you are sure you are not english?" all at once the truth came over fred. they thought he was english! then england must have entered the war! they would think that he was an enemy, perhaps a spy! yet, though he knew now the cause of the suspicious looks, the mutterings, he couldn't utter a word in his defence. he hadn't been formally accused of anything. "yes, i'm an american," he said, quietly. "i'm not english. i've no english blood in me." he had intended to try to get a place to sleep in the village, but now he decided that it would be better to get away as soon as he could. if there had been soldiers about, or any really responsible police officials, he would not have been at all disturbed. but these people were nervous and ignorant; the best men of the place had gone, the ones most likely to have a good understanding. so he paid his little reckoning, and started to walk on. they followed him as he started. as soon as he was in the open road again, a new idea came to him. why not try the great house on the hill? there certainly someone would know the difference between an american and an englishman. he was very tired. he knew that, even if he went on, he would have to stop at some village sooner or later. and if he was suspected here, he would be at the next place. and so, trying to ignore the little crowd that was following him, he turned off and began climbing toward the mansion above the village. it was like a signal. from behind him there rose a dull murmur. a lad not much older than himself raced up and stood threateningly in his path. "if you are an american and honest, why are you going there?" asked this boy, a peasant, and rather stupid in his appearance. "none of your business!" said fred, aroused. he didn't think that the advice of his friend lieutenant ernst to answer questions covered this. "you can't go there. there are spies enough there already!" cried the other. and then without any warning, he lunged forward and tried to grapple with fred. that aroused all the primitive fight in fred. he met the attack joyously for wrestling was something he understood very well. and in a moment he had pinned the peasant boy, strong as he was, to the earth. but he had got rid of one opponent only to have a dozen others spring up. there was a throng about him as he shook himself free, a throng that closed in, shouting, cursing. for a moment things looked serious. fred now understood these people thought he was a spy. and he could guess that it would go hard with him if he didn't get away. he forgot everything but that, and he fought hard and well to make good his escape. but they were too many for him. try as he would, he couldn't get clear, although he put up a fight that must have been a tremendous surprise to his assailants. in the end, though, they got him down, with cries of triumph. and then there came a sudden diversion from outside the mob. down the road from the great house, shrieking a warning, came a flying motor car. its siren sounded quick, angry blasts, and the mob, terrified, broke and scattered to get out of the way of the car. fred, stupefied, didn't run. he had to jump quickly to one side to get out of the car's path. then he saw that it was slowing down, and that it was driven by a boy of his own age. this boy leaned toward him. "i'm going to turn and go back. jump aboard as i come by--i won't be going very fast!" he cried. fred didn't stop to argue or to wonder why this stranger had come to his aid in such a sensational and timely fashion. instead, he gathered himself together and, as the car swung about and passed him, leaped in. as he grasped the seat, the driver shot the car forward and it went roaring up the hill, pursued by a chorus of angry cries from the crowd, utterly balked of its prey. "that was a close call for you!" said the driver, in german. but something in his tone made fred look at him sharply. and then part of the mystery was solved. for the driver was not a german at all, but plainly and unmistakably a russian. "yes--but how--why--?" "wait! don't talk now!" said the driver. "wait till we're inside. we'll be all right there, and i've got a few questions i'd like to ask, too." there was no more danger from the mob of villagers, however. the speed of the car, even on the steep grade, was too great to give pursuers on foot a chance, and so its driver was able, in a few moments, to drive it through great open gates into a huge courtyard. "now who are you?" he asked. "and why were those people attacking you?" "they thought i was english," said fred. "i suppose england must have declared war on germany, too." "she has. aren't you english, then?" "no, i'm american. my name's fred waring. you're a russian, aren't you?" "yes. my name's boris suvaroff. this is a summer place my father owns here. he's away. i'm glad of that, because the germans would have taken him prisoner if he'd been here." for just a moment neither seemed to catch the other's name. then the russian boy spoke. "fred waring--an american?" he said. "i--is it possible? i've got a cousin called waring in america! my father's first cousin married an american of that name years and years ago." "she was a suvaroff--my mother," said fred, but he spoke stiffly. "her family here disowned her--" "some of them--only some of them," said boris. "are you really my cousin? my father wrote to your mother long ago--but he got no answer! he has often told me of her. he was very fond of her! are you really my cousin?" "i guess i am!" said fred. "i'm glad to know that some of you will own me! my uncle mikail had me arrested when i went to see him in petersburg!" and then while they learned about one another, the two of them forgot the war and the danger in which they stood. chapter iv cousins "so you have seen mikail suvaroff!" said boris. he shook his head. "we have seen little of him in the last few years. he and my father do not agree. mikail is on the side of the men about the czar who want no changes, who want to see the people crushed and kept down. my father wants a new russia, with all the people happier and stronger." "then i should think they wouldn't agree," said fred, heartily. "mikail is like the russians one reads about, dark and mysterious, and always sending people to siberia and that sort of thing." "it isn't as bad as that, of course," said boris, with a laugh. "russia isn't like other countries, but we're not such barbarians as some people try to make out. still, of course, there are a lot of things that ought to be changed. russia has been apart from the rest of the world because she's so big and independent. that's why there are two parties, the conservatives and the liberals. my father is all for the czar, but he wants the czar to govern through the men the people elect to the duma. after this war--well, we shall see! there will be many changes, i think. you see, this time it is all russia that fights. against japan we were not united. it is the russian people who have made this war." "i only knew there was danger of war the night it began," said fred. "i suppose it is on account of servia, though?" "yes. that started it. they are slavs, like ourselves. it is as it was when we fought turkey nearly forty years ago. the turks were murdering slavs in the balkans, and all our people called on the czar to fight. this time we could not let austria bully a nation that is almost like a little brother to russia." "i can understand that," said fred. "i suppose there's enough of the slav in me, from my mother, to make me feel like that, too." "even after the way mikail treated you? tell me about that. why did he behave so, though i suppose you may not know?" "i don't, really. my father is dead, you know. i and my mother are alone. she has always loved russia, though she calls herself an american, and is one, and has always made me understand that i am an american, before all. but she has taught me to love russia, too. and she has always told me that there were estates in russia that belonged to her, and would belong to me. she and my father were angry and hurt because of the way her family treated them, but she said that some time she wanted me to take possession of the estate, and to live for a little time each year in russia. she said that the peasants on the place would be better off if i did that." "yes," boris nodded. "that is what those who criticise us do not always remember. russian nobles do look after their peasants. the peasants in russia have not had the advantages of the poor in other countries. they are like children still. my father is a father to all the people on our estate. when they are sick, he sees that they are cared for. if there are bad crops, he gives them food and money. we must all do such things." "that's what she told me. well, she wrote letters and she could get no answers. so she decided to come herself. but she was taken ill. not seriously, but ill enough so that the doctor did not want her to travel. and that was why i came. i went to my uncle, because he was in charge of her affairs. and then, though he was kind enough when i first saw him, and promised to help me, i was arrested. all my papers were taken away, and all my money. and he brought me to virballen, after i had been kept in a sort of prison for three or four weeks. there i was taken off the train for berlin and put across the border, without any money or passports. the german lieutenant himself was going to send me to berlin, but then the news came that war had been declared, and he advised me to walk. i was held up at the first village i came to, and i got as far as this. you saw what happened here in this little village." "that is very, very strange," said boris, vastly puzzled. "do you know what charge was made against you?" "no! some tommyrot about a conspiracy against the czar. but just what it was i was never told. i am forbidden to re-enter russia." "i don't understand at all," said boris. "mikail can't want to keep your mother's property for himself. he is a very rich man--by far the richest of the family, though none of the suvaroffs are poor. and i know about your mother's lands, because they are next to our own." "the money that comes from them has always been sent to her," said fred. "that was what i was thinking of, too. there was no trouble, you see, until it seemed that we might want to live on the place from time to time." "yes. my father has had something to do with the arrangements. your mother is well off, even without her own property, isn't she?" "yes. my father was not a millionaire, but he always had plenty," answered fred, very frankly. "mikail did hate the idea of her marriage," said boris, reflectively. "i could understand this better if i thought that he was trying to keep her inheritance from her to show his dislike. but it cannot be that. there is something very mysterious. i wish my father were here! i think perhaps he would understand." "where is he, boris?" "with the army by this time! he did not believe there would be war, to the very last. that is the only reason i am still here. but he himself was called back as soon as things began to look serious. i stayed here with my tutor but he is gone now. he is a german, and has been called out. it is fortunate that my father had gone, because the germans would have held him, of course, if he had been here. they have come here three or four times to look for him, but now i think they have decided that we have told the truth, and that he is not here." "how did you happen to come to my aid in such a fashion? i was beginning to think that i was in serious danger down there." "you were, fred! they thought you were an english spy. and they hate the english worse than they do us, i think. they have thought that the english should be on their side. when they found it could not be so, they thought that at least england would be afraid to fight." "i see that. but you--what brought you out?" "i know those people. and when i saw that they were attacking someone, it seemed to me that i couldn't just stand by and look on. it was sure to be someone on my own side that they were treating so--the cowards! but a mob is always cowardly. and, of course, i knew that i could manage easily with the automobile. they were sure to scatter when they saw it coming, because they are afraid of motors, anyway." "well, you can belittle it as much as you like, but you certainly saved me from an awfully nasty situation. and you didn't know who i was, either!" "no, i didn't, of course. but it makes me feel all the better to find out it was you, fred. still you know we're not out of the woods yet." "we're all right here, aren't we?" "i don't know. i think the russians will be in east prussia, and well in, before very long. if that happens and the german army is pushed back of this line, these people will be entirely out of control, except if russian troops happen to come to this particular spot--and there's no especial reason why they should." "you mean they might attack the house?" "they might do anything, especially if the war seems to be going against them. they're good enough people, as a rule, but in times like these there's no telling what will happen." "i hadn't thought of that. but--yes, you're right, of course. what do you think we'd better do, boris?" "there's nothing to be done at once. we've got to wait a little while, and let the situation develop. if we tried to get away now, it would be very risky indeed, i think. you see, between us and the russian border there are a lot of german troops. and, even if you went back now toward koenigsberg and berlin, i'm afraid you'd have a hard time. you see, you haven't any passport. and you're partly russian. then you've been here, and they'd know that. i'm afraid you'd stand a good chance of being locked up. tell me just what happened at virballen." fred told him all that he could remember, and boris frowned. "ernst will make a report, you see," he said. "i'm afraid they'll be looking for you. it makes it look as if you were in a bad hole." "how do you mean? there's nothing in what happened there to interest germany, is there?" "if things had been normal that night, you'd have found out what there was, i can tell you! you see the russian and the german secret police work together very well. it's all right when they're looking for nihilists and violent revolutionaries--the sort of people who would think it a great thing to assassinate either the kaiser or the czar. but the trouble is that if a big man in either germany or russia has a grudge against someone, he can use that whole secret police machinery against him. that's what mikail suvaroff was doing to you." "but the germans?" "he would have seen to it, i suppose, that the secret police on our side told the germans here some cock and bull story--enough to induce them to make it unpleasant for you. that was arranged in advance probably. right there on the border, with war starting, those fellows lost their importance. the soldiers, like ernst, were in full command. but they'll be as busy and as active as ever a little way behind the fighting line, looking for spies. they'll remember what the russians had to say about you, and they'll decide that you're a suspicious character, and lock you up in some fortress till the war's over!" "gee! that's a nice prospect! say, boris, what am i to do? if i go to berlin, i'll be arrested! if i go back to russia, my uncle will probably have me boiled in oil or something! if i stay here, your peasant friends down below will lynch me! i'm beginning to think i'm not popular around here!" boris laughed, but his eyes were grave. "it's a ridiculous situation," he said. "i don't really know what to say. i don't believe you need to fear mikail very much. he has a good deal to think of by this time, because, now that the war has come, he won't have time for intrigue. he's a first-class soldier. he made a splendid record in the war with japan--and not many of our generals did, you know. but i tell you what i think we'd better do. wait here until we hear from my father. he will know. and when he learns that you are here, he will be able to protect you in some fashion." "but how are you going to hear from him here?" "that's a secret--yet! but there's a way, never fear. a way that the germans don't suspect, and won't be able to interfere with. tell me, fred. if it is safe for you to go back into russia, will you stand by me? or would you rather take your chance of going home through germany? i'm a boy scout, and we have known for a long time some of the work we would have to do if war came." "i'm with russia, even if america stays out," said fred, with instant decision. "blood's thicker than water--you know the old saying. and i am half a russian. if there's any way that i can help, you can count me in. i'm a boy scout, too, when it comes to that. i didn't know there were any in russia, though." "there are. they're all over europe now, you know. well, we'll see. what's this?" a servant had entered. "there is a man who would see you, boris petrovitch," he said, using the familiar address of russian servants. chapter v the germans boris jumped up. "that is good!" he said. "i have been hoping he would come." "you do not know who it is," said the servant. "boris petrovitch, do not see this man. he is a german. he looks to me like one of their spies." "i will look at him first," said boris, with a smile. "but, vladimir, i think your eyes are getting feeble. it is time you were sent to the place in the crimea to rest, like the old horses that can no longer do their share of the work." vladimir bridled indignantly. but then a slow smile came over his face. "is it ivan?" he asked. "it should be," said boris. "i shall know as soon as i see him." the newcomer was waiting in the great hall. boris, with fred at his heels, got a glimpse of him; then without ceremony he ran down the polished staircase. "so you have come at last!" he cried. ivan was a loutish german in appearance, and only his eyes betrayed the fact that he was not as stupid as he looked. at the sight of boris he smiled, and the act changed his whole expression. but fred thought he had never dreamed of so splendid a disguise. this man, he guessed, must have come many miles through germany, in a country where the closest possible watch was being kept for spies, and for all, indeed, who might even be suspected of espionage. and it was easy to see how he had been able to do it. fred knew that he must be a russian. yet in every detail of his appearance he was german. his clothes, his bearing, his every little mannerism, were carefully studied. fred guessed that this was no servant, but a secret agent of much skill and experience. he was to learn the truth of his surmise before many days had passed. "ivan feodorovitch!" said boris. "so you really got through! have you brought the--" he stopped at a forbidding look in the man's eye. for a moment he seemed to be puzzled. then he understood that it was the presence of fred, a stranger, that was bothering ivan. "oh!" he cried, with a laugh. "ivan, you may speak before this stranger as freely as before me. let him be a stranger to you no longer. he is my cousin from america--the son of marie feodorovna, who went away to be married before i was born!" fred was not prepared for what followed. there was an outcry, first of all, from the half dozen servants in the great hall. they crowded forward curiously to look at him. and as for ivan, he stared blankly for a moment, and then plumped down on one knee and, to fred's unspeakable embarrassment, seized his hand and kissed it. "he and all of them are old, old retainers of our house," boris explained swiftly. "to them one of our blood ranks second only to the czar himself. my father saw to it always that here we were surrounded only by such faithful ones. these people and their ancestors before them have been in the service of us and of our ancestors for many, many generations--since before the freeing of the serfs, of course." it was boris who brought ivan back to the errand that had caused his sudden appearance. "have you brought the parts for the wireless?" he asked. "it was as my father foresaw. the first thing the germans did was to come here and render the installation useless, as they supposed." "it need not remain useless," said ivan. "everything needful i have brought. the station may be working by to-night. except that there can not be anything worth sending for a few hours, it might be set up now. better not to use it and risk betraying our secret until there is real need of it." boris turned to fred to explain. "we have spies all through east prussia, and through galicia and silesia, too, of course," he said. "they can find out a good many things of interest and importance to our army. but it is one thing to obtain such knowledge and quite another to find some means of sending it back to our people. we hope, if we are not sent away from here too soon, that we can make this house very useful that way. it stands high, you see, and we have a very powerful wireless. the germans knew this and they thought they had made it useless." "oh, that's great!" said fred. "perhaps i can help, too, because i can send by wireless. i don't know whether i would be much good with the continental code, because i've learned only with morse. but i might be of some use." "another operator will be of the greatest use," said boris. "i know a little, a very little, about it. and there is a man here. but i am afraid that they will come very soon and take every man who is of fighting age away." "but your men aren't soldiers!" "most of them have served their term in the army. but, even if they had not, the germans would take every able-bodied man. that is all right. we are probably keeping back all germans who might go home and go into the army, and all the other countries will do the same with men of a nation with which they are at war." "vladimir has all that i brought," said ivan, breaking in now. "as for me, i must go again." "go? now? aren't you going to stay?" "no! i have much to do. i may be back. but if i return, i shall come through the cellar--you understand? there are strange movements of troops in this region that i cannot understand at all. there are far fewer soldiers here than i thought there would be. i have not been able to find traces of more than a single corps of germans--and we had expected them to have three or four, at the very least, concentrated in east prussia as soon as the war broke out. at augustowo they were even expecting an attack." "then if there are so few as that, won't we advance?" "ah, that i don't know! the austrians, i hear, are very busy. they say they are moving already in great strength across the border, but that is far away from here, and it is not our concern. it is for us to keep the germans so busy here that they will not be able to crush france before england can get her army into action. at the beginning it does not matter so much whether we win victories or not, so long as we can force the germans to send many corps here instead of using them to invade france. but i have talked enough. now--good-bye, and may god be with you here!" "good-bye," said boris, and fred repeated ivan's wish in russian. ivan seemed astonished. "so your mother taught you her mother tongue!" he said. "ah, but that is splendid!" then he was off. "ivan might have been a great actor, i believe," said boris. "see, isn't he the german to the life as he goes, there? no wonder he can deceive them so!" "it's pretty dangerous work for him, though, i should think," said fred. "they wouldn't waste much time on him if they caught him, would they?" "only the time they needed for a drumhead court-martial. after that, if he was lucky, he would be shot instead of being hung. but he is ready, you see. it is his part. oh, we russians are all united now, if we never were before! germany has threatened us for years. she has set austria against us. this time we had to fight, and you will see that all russia will be behind the czar. we learned our lessons against the japanese. that was not a popular war. it was not made by the people, but by a few who forced the czar's hand. now we shall make the world see that though russia may be beaten, she has the power to rise from defeat." "what will happen here if they do take the men away?" "they won't take them all. only the younger ones. there will be enough left to look after the place and after us. though if they come, i shall have to hide you, my cousin! i am just thinking of that. i shouldn't wonder if those stupid people would have sent word to someone. we had better be prepared. come with me--i will show you something." fred followed boris, and in a few minutes found himself in a great room that was obviously the dining-room of the house. in this room there were many pictures, and the walls were panelled in oak, blackened by smoke and age. boris looked about to make sure that they were not observed, then he touched a spot in one of the panels, and it slid open. beyond this, however, was revealed an unbroken wall. again boris touched a certain spot, and now this wall, seemingly solid and unbroken, gave way, just as the oaken panel had done. "even if they discovered the panel, you see, they would not have the secret," said boris. "i will show you the exact spots you must touch. then if they come, you can reach this place by yourself. once in here, you will be safe. carry an electric torch always with you. i will give you one later. you will find two sets of arrows marked every few feet through the passages to which this leads. the upper ones point to the outside door that is at the end of a passage far beyond the house. the lower ones, if you follow their course, will bring you back to these panels. so you cannot lose your way." "by george, that certainly sounds mysterious! have you always planned for something like this?" "oh, these passages are very old. this house, you see, was built at a time when intrigue was more common than now. but when my father began to see, as he did years ago, that germany was sure to force war upon us, and that it would probably come in his lifetime, he made many changes. this is not really a private house at all--it is a little outpost of russia, here in the midst of an enemy's country. and it is not the only one. in silesia and in galicia we have places like it." "perhaps the germans will find that russia is not so slow after all!" outside now there rose a peculiar sound, but one that fred identified at once. "that sounds like your germans coming now, boris," he said, quietly. "i've heard crowds making just that same noise at home--on election night, for instance, when they were coming to make the winner give them a speech." boris listened for a moment, then he went to a window. "yes," he said. "but it's not the sort of germans we need to worry about. it's only the people from the village. old men, and women, and children--boys, of course. i'm surprised that they should come for they know they can't get in." but even as he spoke, there came a thunderous sound of knocking at the outer door and the sharp grounding of arms--a noise as ominous as it was unmistakable. "there are soldiers, too. they are here much sooner than i thought they could come!" exclaimed boris. "here, into that passage with you! listen! follow the arrows! they will lead you down. stop at a double arrow. you will be able to hear. the wall is very thin there, on purpose. you can hear what is going on in the great hall and still be perfectly safe. i'll come for you as soon as i can get rid of them." "all right. but will you be safe yourself? oughtn't you to come with me, boris?" "oh, they won't do anything to me! i'm only a boy, you see. they'll never think that i could be dangerous. in with you, now! we can't keep the soldiers out. i don't want to give them an excuse for burning the place down, and they'd do it in a minute if there was any resistance." chapter vi the tunnel fred found the secret passage much less confusing than he had thought it likely to be. as soon as he had stepped in, the panels slid back into place, and the passage was immediately dark. but boris had had time to find an electric torch for him, and had told him where to find another--or two or three, for that matter--when that was exhausted. "we've always kept them there in case of emergencies," he had explained. so fred had felt assured of a supply of light, which was the one absolutely necessary thing if, as was entirely possible, the german soldiers stayed in the house for any time. one other thing, of course, was necessary; food and drink. and that, too, he knew where to find. boris had told him of a store of compressed foods, and of fresh water, piped into this amazing passageway from the outer entrance, far beyond the limits of the gardens and grounds of the house. the first thing fred did was to switch on the light of his torch and inspect the warren in which he had found sanctuary. it was not at all the musty, bad smelling place he had expected it to be. the walls had been plastered and stained a dull grey, which did not reflect the light from his torch appreciably. the arrows appeared, as boris had said they did, at frequent intervals. "not much of a secret." that was fred's first thought. "but it needn't be. the men who worked in here are the ones the family can trust absolutely, i suppose." it gave fred a certain thrill to feel himself in touch with such things, to know that he belonged to such a family as the suvaroffs, capable of inspiring such devotion in its retainers--which, though boris regarded it as a matter of course, seemed a great thing to fred, with his american upbringing. "what a piece of luck!" he reflected. "imagine my stumbling on such a splendid fellow as boris! if it hadn't been for all this trouble, i might never have known i had a cousin! and he's the sort of cousin i call worth having! he amounts to something--and i don't believe he's as old as i am. well, i've got to show him that an american scout can keep up his end! i'll try to play the game with him." it made up for all the trouble he had had since he had first seen his uncle. he was more puzzled than ever, after what boris had told him, to account for the behavior of mikail suvaroff. "i'll bet there's some explanation," he said to himself. "i certainly hope so! seeing boris makes me inclined to like these russian relatives a whole lot, and i'd like to think that uncle mikail could square himself somehow. he's got a whole lot to make up for, of course." though he did feel that very strongly, he was able now to frame a thought that had come to him more than once after he had become certain that it was prince suvaroff who had caused his arrest. and that was that suvaroff had seemed far too big and important a man to do a small, petty thing. "he's got a wrong idea of me, some way," fred decided. "he has heard something, or made up his mind to something that isn't so. well, i hope i get back to russia and stay out of jail long enough to find out what was wrong. perhaps this war will make a difference, especially if i'm lucky enough to be able do something for 'holy russia'." fred moved along quietly while he was thinking of the extraordinary sequence of events that had brought him to where he now was, flashing his light on the arrows, and looking for the double mark that would show him he had reached the spot of which boris had told him. but when he got there he had no need of any sign, for he could hear voices distinctly on the other side of a very thin wall. boris was speaking. "i'm so sorry, herr hauptmann," boris was saying, in faultless german. "i did see some of the peasants chivying a fellow down below. and i did go out, of course, in my car, to see if i could help him. i got him away from them. but he didn't come all the way back. he wanted to go on, and it's not just the time i should choose for entertaining guests. so i didn't urge him to stay." "i'm sorry to seem to doubt your word. in fact, prince, i don't," said a rumbling voice, that of the german captain boris had been addressing, as fred could guess. "but was this person you rescued so--chivalrously--an englishman?" "i really don't know, herr hauptmann. he might have been. or an american. one or the other, i should think." "clever boris!" thought fred. "he'll tell him some truth and some fiction! he has got to deceive him, of course--that's war." "i have reason, prince, to think that he was an english spy," the captain went on. "you will allow my men to make a search? and, by the way, i shall be sorry to take away your servants, but my orders are to arrest and send to detention camps every man of military age i find here." "i understand, captain. i am entirely in your hands, of course. i should like to know if it will be possible for me to return soon to russia?" "you must go to higher officers than myself, prince," said the captain. "if it rested with me--! but, of course, it does not. if you see your father soon, however, will you give him my compliments? and tell him from me that i should esteem it an honor if we should meet in the field?" "gladly, captain. it is a pity that such good friends and neighbors as we have all been must be enemies, is it not? but it was not our doing." fred frowned a little. "that sounds rather bad," he said to himself. "if this captain has lived near here, he must know a good deal about the place. and, by george, if they make a search they will find the wireless machinery that ivan brought in with him! it may be a mighty bad thing for this house and for russia that boris saw me and brought me in, though it was certainly lucky for me!" but even then fred did not guess the extent of the trouble he had really caused. he listened intently, but for a time there was silence beyond the wall. then he heard a murmur of voices, and guessed that a report of the search for him was being made. and then the captain's voice boomed out. "prince," he said, "i must ask you to come with me and to consider yourself under arrest. it is very painful but those are my orders. colonel goldapp wishes to see you. i think it is only a form." "what? you will take me away?" fred caught the dismay in his cousin's tone, and winced slightly. but then he understood that it was not fear for himself that moved boris, but anxiety lest the important plans of which he was such an essential part should be spoiled. "but my father--he thinks that i am safe here until he can make arrangements for me to return to russia." "i am sorry." the german's tone, gruff though it was, was by no means unkindly. "orders, however--i have no choice. doubtless you will be allowed to return as soon as the colonel has seen you." "well, there is no use in arguing, of course," said boris. he raised his voice, and fred understood that what followed was meant especially for his ears. "where will you take me, herr hauptmann?" "colonel goldapp's quarters are at present in the parsonage near the village. you will be examined there, prince. we shall be there to-night, at least, perhaps longer." "i see. i will be ready in a few moments. will you excuse me if i write some instructions for vladimir, who will be in charge after i go? you may, of course, read what i write." "assuredly." then there was silence. the room outside was so quiet that fred had a chance to realize how perfectly the place in which he was hidden served its purpose. he could hear the heavy breathing of someone near the wall. then a chair scraped along the floor, and in a moment he heard the scratching of a pen. and then there came a new sound, a tapping, as with two fingers. that was boris, and quite suddenly fred understood. boris was tapping out a message to him in telegraphic code. "you must take charge here," boris tapped with his fingers. "i will tell vladimir to get you as soon as it is safe. the parsonage where i will be taken is very near the outlet of the secret passage. if ivan returns, tell him i am there, and that i will sing or whistle the song of the volga boatmen from time to time, so that he may know the window of my room, if there is no guard in the room with me. do not answer, for they might hear." "good boy! he certainly has nerve!" said fred to himself, admiringly. "he doesn't know what's going to happen to him next, but he is certainly doing all he can to make things come right." then there was a new confusion of noise outside. fred heard boris call vladimir and speak to the old servant in russian. then the german officer gave vladimir his instructions. "this place will be left alone for the present," he said. "prince alexander suvaroff has been a good friend and neighbor, and, though he is an enemy, we desire to respect his property as long as possible. but neither you nor any who are left in the house with you must go out--this for your own safety--except to get food and then go yourself." fred heard a general movement then, and guessed that they were going out. silence followed, and, after listening for a time, he decided upon an exploration of the secret passage. a vague plan was taking form in his mind already. it seemed to him that, as he was at liberty, he should do anything that was in his power to free boris. until he knew more of the lay of the land, he could not even make a real plan, but it was possible, he thought, that something that was in his mind might easily prove to be feasible. it was easy, with his torch and the guiding arrows, to follow the devious, winding course of the passage. he surmised that its ascents and descents, which seemed arbitrary and unreasonable as he pursued them, were due to other entrances than the one he knew. it would be necessary, as he could understand, to have more than one means of getting in and out of such a passage. and when he found himself at last going in a straight path which sloped easily downward, he guessed that he was beyond the house, and that he had come to a part of the passage that led to the outer world. here there was a trace of dampness, but nothing like what might have been expected in what was really a tunnel. fred had to admire the excellence of the construction work. the descent, as he knew from what he had seen outside, must really be very sharp. but it was managed here with turns and zigzags so that the grade was never very sharp. fred became suddenly conscious of a change in the air. "i must be near the opening," he thought. a couple of minutes proved that he was right. he now remembered that boris had not had time to tell him how the door or gate was operated. but he decided not to go back at once, but to try to discover the secret for himself. it had occurred to him that it was more than probable that a sentry or two might be left in the house, and he had no mind to stay in the passageway, helpless and useless, if vladimir found it impossible to let him out at once. at the end of the passage he found a solid, seamless door. he decided at once it must work on an axis of some sort and that it must be set in motion by pressing a spring. and so, steadily and systematically, he searched the whole door, until he struck the right spot at last. as the door moved, he marked the spot with a tiny pencil mark. it swung open--and he looked into the eyes of a startled german soldier, his mouth wide open! chapter vii a daring ruse it would be hard to say which was more surprised--fred or the soldier. for just a moment they stood, both of them, perfectly still, staring at one another with fallen jaws. and then fred acted by pure instinct, and without the semblance of a plan in his mind. he had played football in school and on the team of his scout troop in america. and now he dived for the astonished german's legs and brought him down with a flying tackle. the heavy gun flew out of the soldier's hands, and, fortunately for fred, he fell so that his head struck the ground heavily. he was stunned and, for the moment at least, safe and out of commission. there was time, therefore, for fred to see how the ground lay. he found that he was in a slight hollow, sandy in the bottom, where he stood and the soldier lay. he imagined that at certain times this hollow might be filled with water, for the sand had that appearance, and, moreover, there was a gully, evidently washed out by water, leading down into the pit. "wonder how long he's good for?" speculated fred, looking at the soldier. "a few minutes, anyhow. he got quite a bump!" he satisfied himself in a moment that the soldier was not badly hurt. he was a ridiculous figure as he lay there sprawled out. his breathing was heavy; it sounded almost like heavy snoring. he was very young, scarcely more than a boy himself. his uniform was entirely new, as was his equipment. he was very slight too, and his face was typical of a certain sort of german. he looked, fred thought, like a bird. it was a queer idea, and he laughed as it came to him, but it did describe this german absolutely. "i'll risk it," fred decided. he hesitated about the door. perhaps he ought to close it. but if he did, he couldn't open it again from this side for that was a secret he hadn't learned. and, after all, the only danger was that the soldier might come to his senses and go in--and if he did that, fred could follow him. so taking the rifle, he crawled along the gully the rain had washed out, moving very cautiously. as he neared the top, he lifted his head and saw, not more than fifty yards away, a grey stone house, simple and unassuming. a flag pole had been put up in front of this house, and a german flag drooped from it. soldiers were all about the place, and two automobiles stood before the door. motorcycles were lying on the ground. while fred watched, two men rode up on the snorting, crackling little machines and hurried into the house. this was undoubtedly the parsonage, now being used as the headquarters of colonel goldapp. fred's heart sank as he surveyed the place. it seemed to him that there wasn't much chance that he could rescue boris. there were too many germans about. even though there was no reason for the staff to anticipate an attack, he could guess that the place would be well guarded. and yet he was here because he hoped that he would be able, after seeing the parsonage, to devise some plan of getting boris away. however, that was something to be attempted later, if at all. his chief concern now was for the soldier he had thrown. and now he made his way back, and found to his dismay that the man was beginning to recover his senses. as fred came back he stretched, yawned, and sat up, with the most ludicrous mixture of fright and wonder in his eyes. fred had his gun, and at the sight of that the soldier spoke indignantly. "give me back my gun!" he said, testily. "it is against the rules for anyone to touch my gun. if you let the corporal catch you with that, there'll be trouble. i promise you!" fred had hard work to control his features. he wondered if the man was really a little simple-minded, or if the effects of his fall still confused him. he finally decided that both theories were right. for a moment he hesitated, wondering what to do. he wanted to get back into the passageway, and he did not want the german to see him doing it. as he thought, he studied the entrance attentively. and he was startled suddenly to find that he could not see it! had something happened? had the door closed automatically? if that were so, he was in a nice fix, and he would soon join boris as a prisoner. but then he realized that the seeming disappearance of the opening was simply the result of clever screening, by means of bushes. it had deceived him for the moment. he saw that the door was so contrived that anyone emerging from it would seem to anyone even a few feet away, to be simply coming out from behind a bush. and then he got his great idea, an idea that made him turn his head, so that the soldier would not see the grin he could not suppress. "here, give me that gun!" said the soldier, again. he was more impatient than before, and his tone was one of anger. he struggled to his feet, too, and stood, swaying uncertainly, still weak and very dizzy as the result of his fall. "beware!" the word came in a sepulchral, heavy voice from directly behind the soldier. he swung around, greatly puzzled. "who's there?" he called, sharply. "i am everywhere!" said the same voice. but now it came from the very ground at his feet. and then the voice spoke, swinging around, as the soldier turned, like a dancing dervish, trying always to face the voice, only to have it come from some new quarter. "attend carefully to what i say!" said the mysterious voice. "you have risked death by coming to this spot! but i am merciful, and i wish to preserve all soldiers who fight for their fatherland! i am the spirit of this place! i command you to go! go up the gully. stand with your back turned to this place and count one hundred. then, and only then, you may return. your gun will be here, and you may then go in peace. this ground is sacred to me. on your life, when you have regained your gun, go! do not look back! do not hesitate! and, above all, tell no one what you have seen! i have spoken!" the soldier was trembling now in every limb. he looked hard at fred, as if he suspected that he might have something to do with this mysterious, awesome voice. but fred's lips had never moved. fred, at home, had often amused the guests of his family and the gatherings of the scout patrol to which he belonged with this trick of ventriloquism. but the german evidently had never heard of such a thing. and suddenly he broke into a run. he made for the gully and ran along it with stumbling feet. "now stop!" boomed the voice--directly in front of him! "not a step further! begin to count aloud. but do not shout!" "ein, zwei, drei, vier--" began the german, obediently. and fred, half choking with suppressed laughter, slipped behind the screened entrance of the secret passageway, while the soldier's back was still turned. he did not quite close the door, but waited to make sure that the german's curiosity did not get the better of his fright, which had certainly been real enough. but it was all right. the man counted right up to a hundred, and once or twice, to fred's huge amusement, when he stammered, and lost track of his numbers, he went back and counted several of them over again! but he finished at last, and fred heard him come stumbling down the gully. he seemed to hesitate then. "may i really go now?" he asked. "i did not know there was a spirit here, or i would not have come." "yes. go, and quickly!" said fred, throwing his voice out so it came from far above the soldier. he heard the soldier running then, and in a moment closed the door behind him, and began retracing his steps along the secret tunnel. "gee! that was a close call!" he said to himself. "serves me good and right, too, for doing more than i was told! i might have spoiled everything by not waiting until i knew more about the place. if that soldier hadn't been ready to see a ghost in anything he didn't have some reason to expect to meet, i'd be in a lot of trouble now. and yet i'll bet he's brave enough, too. if he had an enemy he could see and touch, he'd fight all right." but fred had more to think about now than what had happened, or what might have happened, either. he was more interested in what was to come next. he went along, flashing his torch. there was no sound at the thin wall, where he stopped, when he reached it, to listen for the sound of voices in the great hall. that encouraged him. he decided that if any soldiers had been left on guard in the place, they would have been in there. and when he came near to the panel by which he had entered, when he let his torch wink out he saw that there was a light ahead of him. for a moment he caught his breath, wondering if some enemy had discovered the secret, and was waiting to pounce on him. but he went on, because he decided that if anyone were waiting they must know already that he was in the tunnel. and in a moment he came face to face with old vladimir. "the coast is clear, excellency," said the old russian. "all the germans have gone--a curse upon them! my master has told me to treat you as if you stood in his place until he returns. i have the things that ivan brought. is it your pleasure that i should deliver them to you?" fred was puzzled for a moment. then he remembered the wireless. "oh, yes, by all means!" he said. "and show me the room where the wireless is. you know all about that, vladimir?" "i know where it is. i do not understand such devil's work, but i am an old man, and stupid." fred laughed. "perhaps it's devil's work, but if we have any luck it will be pretty useful to us," he said. "come on, if it's safe for me to come out. there's a lot for me to do." vladimir led the way to the top of the house. on the roof, like a pent-house, there was a little room or cupola, and in this was a partially dismantled wireless installation. fred was left there alone while vladimir went off to get the things that ivan had given to him for safekeeping, and he studied the installation closely. it was different from any that he had ever seen, but its leading principle, of course, was familiar to him. at first it surprised him to find that it was supplied with power by weak batteries, which the germans had ruined. "you couldn't send more than twenty miles with those batteries!" he said to himself. but when vladimir returned that was explained. for he removed a picture that hung on the wall and disclosed a number of wires. "i do not understand," he said. "but my master and ivan have told me that those wires that you see run down to a place far below the cellar, where there is a great engine that moves when petrol is put into it--" "oh, i see, a dynamo run by a diesel engine, probably!" said fred, suddenly enlightened. "that's a fine idea! they can develop power without steam! costs a lot--but it's worth it, of course! i'll just try that out!" quickly he connected up the wires, tried out his key, after replacing the parts that had been taken away, and in a moment got a powerful spark. "that's great!" he said, to himself, ignoring old vladimir, who watched him in fascinated wonder. "i can send a long distance with that spark!" then he pounced on something he had overlooked before,--a little book bound in black leather. as he opened it, he gave an exclamation of joy. it was a code book, as he saw at once, and on the inside of the cover was a list of wireless stations, with their calls. there was one at virballen, he saw, and a dozen other places just over the border, and running quite a distance into russian territory, including one at augustowo, were named. "ivan told me to guard that book as if it were my life," said vladimir. "he said to put it in a safe place, and to destroy it if the germans found it, even if they killed me for doing it." "he was right," said fred, soberly. "if the germans got that book, it would be as valuable to them as a whole army, vladimir." "it is very strange," said the old man. "i do not understand, but i am old and stupid, and it is not for me to question my betters." fred sat down and studied the code for a few moments. more than ever he was glad now that his mother had always insisted that he must be able to read and speak her russian tongue. he would have to send in morse, instead of in the somewhat simpler continental code, but that, he thought, would make little difference. some operator would be certain to understand his sending. and now he sat down and began calling suwalki. he would have liked to call virballen, which was nearer, but he was not sure that the russians were still in possession of their station there, since he remembered that the germans had had the superior force there on the saturday night when the war broke out--a night that seemed to lie a century in the past now! for a long minute he hammered out his call. and then through the air, over miles of hostile country, came a welcome whisper in his ear--the whisper of the answering call from suwalki! he was in touch with russia! chapter viii within the enemy's lines for many reasons fred did not want to hold a long talk with the suwalki operator. german wireless stations were undoubtedly at work in the surrounding country, and, though there was no great danger that his messages might be intercepted and read, it was not advisable, of course, to let the germans, who were sure to be watchful, know that there was a private russian station somewhere within german limits. the instruments here were tuned to a certain wave length, and he guessed that this was standard for all russian military stations, and different from that of the germans. but when he held his circuit to listen he got whisperings that sounded almost like static electricity. it was evident that a good many stations were sending, and that the air all about was full of the waves. so he contented himself with a brief and direct report of what had happened, explaining why boris was not himself present to make this report. he asked for information as to the movements of the russian army, but got no satisfaction. "we don't know ourselves," said the suwalki operator. "things are moving very fast, but absolutely no news is being given out. i know that our cavalry--cossacks, chiefly--have crossed the border at half a dozen different points. the germans and the austrians have invaded poland, and our troops have all been withdrawn from that region. the concentration there is going on at brest-litovsky, and behind the line of warsaw-novo georgevsk. but here there are a good many troops. there may be cossacks within a few miles of you. they are raiding. here it is said that our first move will be to try to cut the german railways." that was all he could find out. he arranged for word of boris's seizure to be sent to his father, and then closed his circuit and went below, in search of old vladimir. by now it was afternoon, and fred began to think that if boris had been coming back that day he would have arrived already. plainly, it seemed to him, colonel goldapp must have decided to retain him as a prisoner. he wanted to get down near the parsonage again, but he was afraid to venture out by the secret passage. he didn't know how thoroughly he had frightened the soldier who had so nearly caught him. if the man had recovered his wits and decided that it was no ghost, but a very substantial and real person who had bowled him over, there would doubtless be a guard in the hollow, by the outer entrance of the tunnel. and, in any case, it was too risky to seek egress by that means again in broad daylight. "vladimir," he said, when he found the old servant, "i want you to make me look like a german, if you can. disguise me, so that i may go down toward the village safely. is it possible?" vladimir studied him for a moment. "i think so," he said. "there are plenty of clothes here, and there is a man who has often helped when there were to be private theatricals." the transformation was soon completed, and when he looked at himself in a glass fred had to laugh. his clothes were those of a prussian peasant, and a few very slight changes in his appearance had been made by the man to whom vladimir had spoken. they worked wonders, and fred decided that he could go anywhere in prussia now with impunity. "is it safe for you to leave the house?" he asked vladimir. "yes, for they think that i am harmless," said the old man. "i wish to know how to open the door of the tunnel from the outside," said fred. "but i think it would be unsafe to go there directly. it will be better for you to start out and get there as if you had gone by chance. it is near the parsonage where my cousin is, and if anyone questions you, you could say, i should think, that you wanted to be near your master." "yes," said vladimir. "that would be safe." "then do you go there and stay, unless they drive you away. i will go there, too, if i can, and if the coast is clear and no one is watching, you can show me. unless, indeed, you can tell me now?" "it will be better for me to show you," said vladimir. "the looks of the outside change constantly. a storm will destroy a bush, or some other landmark there, and, though i could touch the proper spot in the darkness myself, i would find it hard to describe it to you. i will start at once?" "yes. and i will come to you, if it is safe, as soon as i can. i should not be more than ten minutes behind you in reaching the hollow." nothing about the whole adventure upon which he had embarked so strangely, and with so little intention on his own part, impressed fred more than the unquestioning obedience old vladimir yielded to him. more than ever before, he realized that the suvaroffs must indeed be as great a family as his mother had declared. though she had become a true american, mrs. waring had never ceased to love the land of her birth, and she had always tried to impress fred with her own feeling for the great house to which she had belonged. "such families as the suvaroffs can do much harm to themselves and to others," she had said. "but they can also be of great service to those of their blood, to those who are dependent upon them, and to their country." the truth of this was constantly being impressed anew upon fred at this time. he was struck especially by the difference between the way that the people of this house treated boris and himself, and the attitude that had been noticeable in those who had served his uncle, mikail suvaroff. mikail was decidedly a greater figure than boris's father. yet it was not devotion that he seemed to inspire. he won obedience, not because his people were devoted to him, but because he had filled them with fear, and because they knew the consequences that would certainly follow if he were displeased in any way. it was still light when fred left the house. he went out by a side entrance, reaching the road from the garden. vladimir had gone down the hill before him. it was understood that he would manufacture some errand as an excuse for his appearance in the village. a number of the people of the village were in the road near the great house; they stared at it curiously, and with hostile murmurs. they paid no attention to fred, however, and this convinced him that his disguise was good. he passed near them, and he breathed more freely when he had gone by. at the foot of the hill he turned away from the village. here he remembered something that both amused and annoyed him. he had not asked just where the parsonage was. he knew its location with reference to the outer portal of the tunnel, to be sure, but he had come to that underground. however, he remembered where the sun had been when he had emerged into the open air before, and, after some profitless scouting about, a passing motorcycle set him on the right track. it set him thinking, too. "there are an awful lot of these fellows with dispatches running about," he said to himself. "it seems to me that this place is more than a colonel's headquarters. a colonel has just one regiment under him, and he certainly wouldn't need so many riders to carry his orders about--unless he were in command of a detached fort or position, and colonel goldapp isn't. i guess he's there, right enough, but i've an idea there's someone more important, as well. it might be worth while to find out just what is going on around here." but that could wait. for the moment his task was to meet vladimir and then to spy out the parsonage. meeting vladimir proved easier than he had hoped. he followed the trail of the man on the motorcycle until he was within sight of the grey stone parsonage, and then had his bearings exactly. he approached the hollow cautiously, but no one was around. the ground was fairly soft; there had been rain within the last three or four days. and so, as he approached the spot of his encounter with the superstitious soldier, fred was able to tell that no visitation had been made to the hollow. he marked the footsteps of the soldier; the man had evidently run from the place. looking around cautiously, he saw that everything was clear, and dropped down on hands and knees as he reached the gully. vladimir was waiting, and in less than a minute explained the secret of the door. "all right," said fred. "now you get back to the house, and either be near the entrance to the passage yourself, or keep someone stationed there. i don't know what's going to happen, so i can't tell you, but i think that maybe i shall get boris away from the parsonage." vladimir's eyes gleamed. "i am an old man," he said, "and i fear that i am useless. but if i can help to rescue him--" "if you can help, i'll let you know," said fred. "but i don't know yet even how i shall set about it. and i think it's more important for someone we can trust absolutely to be in the house. there may be nothing for you to do there, and yet, if anything does come up, you will be needed there very quickly. shall you go back through the tunnel?" "no. they may have watched me as i came out, and it will be better for them to see me return. no one suspects the tunnel yet, but some of these germans are clever." "right! well, i know how to get into it now from this end, and that may help a lot. but i hope that when i use it again boris will be with me." he let old vladimir go out first. then, after waiting for several minutes, he went up the gully in his turn, and set out boldly and with no attempt to hide his movements, for the parsonage. there was even more activity there now than there had been when he had first set eyes upon it. there were more automobiles; four of them altogether. at the wheel of each sat a soldier driver in grey uniform, and with a cloth covered helmet. each car was of the same type, a long rakish grey body, low to the ground. as he neared the house an officer wearing a long, grey coat came out, accompanied by two or three younger men. he turned to speak to them, then got into one of the cars, which immediately drove off. as it went a peculiar call was sounded, more like a trumpet than an automobile horn. fred guessed then what he afterward learned to be a fact; that the automobiles used by the german staff officers on active service had horns that indicated the rank of the officer using them. it seemed to fred that there were more officers than soldiers about. there seemed to be only enough soldiers to provide a guard. sentries were all about, but there were officers almost in swarms. he walked along, indifferently rather than boldly, and he was sharply challenged when he drew fairly near to the house. "you can't go any further, youngster," said the soldier. "the staff has taken this house." fred stared at him rather stupidly, but turned away. then he was called back suddenly, and for a moment his heart was in his mouth at the thought that his disguise had been penetrated and that he was about to be made a prisoner. like boris, he was concerned only with the effect of this upon his plans. he did not think of his own safety, although, had he been caught, he might have expected the fate of a spy, since he was in disguise within the german lines. it proved, however, that he was not to be arrested. a young captain was eyeing him sharply. "come with me, boy," he said. "we are short of servants in the house here. you will do." for a moment he was indignant, but then his heart leaped happily. if he was taken into the house as a servant, he could find out all and more than he had hoped, and that without risk. chapter ix "theres many a slip--" once inside the house, fred found a scene of orderly confusion. that is, it looked like confusion to him, but he could see that, for all the bustling and the hurrying that went on, everyone knew just what his part in the work was. telephone bells were ringing all the time, and fred noticed now that wires entered the house through the dining-room window. evidently a field telephone system had been installed and connected this house with a whole region, of which, in a military way, it seemed to be the brain. then fred heard a voice that he recognized at once, and started at the sound, until he placed it as that of the captain who had taken boris away, and remembered that the captain had not seen him, even before he was disguised. fred's work, he soon found, was simplicity itself. he was to do the bidding of any officer. he was sent on errands, from one part of the house to another; often he carried written messages, handed to him by staff officers, to the room in which three telegraph operators were hard at work. generally speaking, he was there to do odd jobs and make himself generally useful. luckily, he was taken for granted. everyone seemed assured that he was one of the village boys, pressed into service because he happened to be the first one to come along. but for the first hour or so it was impossible for him to make any attempt to discover if boris was still in the house. he was too busy, and he dared not spoil his opportunity to learn something really worth while by seeming to spy about. he was rewarded before long for his patience, for just as he was beginning to despair, an officer spied him in a moment when he was not actively engaged upon some errand. "here, boy," called the officer, "take this tray!" fred took a tray from a soldier who was holding it awkwardly. "take it upstairs to the room on the third floor where a sentry is on guard. he will let you in. when the prisoner there has finished his meal, return with the tray to the kitchen. do not let any knife or fork or spoon stay in the room when you go. so you will make yourself really useful and release a man who can do things for which you are too young." it seemed to fred, as he started upstairs with his tray, that this luck was almost too good to be true. he scarcely dared to hope for what had seemed to him the inevitable explanation of his errand. but when the sentry opened the door of the locked room, and he looked in, he saw boris sitting dejectedly on the side of a bed. it was all he could do to suppress a cry of delight, but he managed it, and he was hugely tickled as he saw boris's indifferent glance at him. his disguise must be good, or boris would have known him. he put the tray down, and then walked to the window. he looked down first, and then up. then with a grin, he turned to his cousin. "not a word," he said, quickly. "do you know me?" boris stared; then a smile broke out all over his face. there was no need for him to put his answer into words. fred came very close. "speak low, but do not whisper," he said. "tell me, what have they done to you?" "nothing. colonel goldapp has been too busy to see me." "i don't wonder! boris, this is no colonel's headquarters. it is more like that of an army corps. and there is at least one general here. his name is von hindenburg." "von hindenburg? he is commander-in-chief in east prussia! if he is here, there must be a german concentration in this region! they did not expect that! oh, i must get out and get the news back--" "yes. the wireless is working. i talked this afternoon to suwalki." and in a few words he told boris the essential facts of what had happened since the raid upon the great house on the hill on that morning. "how often do they come in here?" he asked. "only when my meals are brought to me. there will be no one else now to-night, i think, unless colonel goldapp sends for me. they are very polite. i think i shall be alone most of the time. they have no idea that i will try to get away, because they think i know they have so many sentries and patrols about that it would be useless for me to try to do it." "listen, then, boris. i will go now. i think they will let me go now. i have been working hard for them about the house. but i will come back later. stay near your window, so that i can see a handkerchief if you hold it. then i will throw up a stone with a string tied about, and you can draw up a rope and slip down. if this general is so important we ought to let them know. i will send the word by wireless and then come back." "good! it is risky for you. they wouldn't spare you if they caught you trying to help me to get away. but if you can manage it at all, have clothes like the ones you wear ready for me, in a bundle. vladimir will get them for you." fred nodded, and was off at once. he was detained a little time when he went down with the tray, but he pleaded finally with a kindly looking officer, telling him that he was very tired, and had not expected to stay away from home so long, and was allowed to go. he went to the opening of the tunnel, found that the place was unguarded, and decided from the general appearance of the hollow that it was not visited by soldiers. indeed, it was within the outer line of sentries, and, in a way, safer because of that. had it been beyond that line, it would have been much harder to reach. the operator at suwalki, when he called him by wireless, complained bitterly, saying that he had been trying for hours to get an answer. boris's father had been heard from and was extremely anxious to get into touch with his son. but it seemed the news that fred sent made up for this. the man at suwalki was incredulous. "our information is that general von hindenburg is many miles from where you are," he flashed back. "are you sure of your facts?" "absolutely sure," fred answered. "do you want the exact location of the house used as headquarters? i can describe it for you if you have the village shown on your map." "yes. give it to me," came the answer. before he finished his wireless talk, fred felt that the russian operator did not fully trust him. nor did he blame him. he knew the excellence of the german spy system; he had heard a good deal about it from boris, and, for that matter, before he had even seen boris at all. so he only laughed, though he hoped that this feeling would not prevent the russians from using the information he had given. he could not see just how it was to be useful to them, however. possibly the fact that von hindenburg was here, and not to the south, was the important thing. by this time it was growing dark, and fred decided that it would soon be safe to try to throw the cord up to boris's window--as safe, at least, as it would ever be. he got a bundle of clothes from vladimir, and this time he determined to travel through the tunnel, since he knew that if he went by the outside route he would have trouble in getting through the sentries. luck was with him again. he was nervous as he opened the door and came out into the night, but there was no one about. at a little distance he could hear steady footsteps; evidently a sentry was walking his beat near by. but fred's scout training had taught him how to move quietly and he slipped through the gully and toward the house without raising an alarm. once he was on the right side of the house, he found shelter in a clump of bushes, where, unseen himself, he could study the situation. his first thought was of the house. he soon found the window of boris's room. immediately below it were the windows of corresponding rooms, and one of these was lighted. this made him pause at once. for the rope to be drawn up, or for boris to show himself before that lighted window for even the moment of a swift descent, might well be fatal. that was one point, but he speedily devised a way of overcoming that. there was another danger to be considered, and it took him longer to calculate this. naturally there was a patrol about the house. fred himself had had to avoid the sentry, making his steady round. now he lay in the bushes and timed the man's appearances for nearly half an hour. there were two men, as a matter of fact, and they met on each circling of the house. fortunately, their meeting came at the very end of the garden. so fred was able to work out a sort of mental chart of their movements, and to confirm it by timing them. the two sentries met on his side of the house at the eastern end. the first walked west, the second north. the one who walked west had his back to fred and to the window where boris waited for a minute. then he, too, turned north. then came a blessed interval of just a minute, in which neither sentry was in sight. altogether, there was a period of almost two minutes in which no eye would be fixed on boris's window, unless the sentry chanced to turn and look back. to make sure, fred studied both men. and not once did either of them look back or up. their attention did not seem to centre on the house at all. it was as if their instructions were more to prevent a surprise attack from outside, or the coming of some spy, than to watch those who were already in the house. once he had made up his mind, fred buried himself deeper in the shrubbery and risked using his pocket flashlight while he wrote a note to boris, telling him what he had learned of the movements of the sentries. he told boris, also, not to draw up the rope at once, but to climb from his window to the flat roof, something easy enough to manage, and then to move along five paces. there the rope, when it was drawn up, would be invisible against the grey stone of the house wall, whereas, against a lighted window, it would show up so plainly that the most stupid sentry would be sure to see it. fred had substituted a tennis ball for the stone he had originally intended to throw. the ball had many advantages. in case his aim was bad, the ball would not make a noise if it fell or if it struck against the wall, while the sound of a stone would have betrayed them had he failed to put it through the window. now he tied his note to the ball, making it firm and secure with the end of a ball of twine. about his body he had coiled a long, very thin, very strong rope. after boris had the end of the cord he would fasten the rope to his end, and so enable boris to draw it up. and to guard against losing the end of the cord, he tied it to his own left wrist. he waited for the sentries to meet; gave the one who stayed on his side a start, and then, taking careful aim, threw his ball. at home fred had played baseball. more than once a game had depended on the accuracy of his toss of a hot grounder to the first baseman. in basketball games, he had stood, with the score tied, to shoot for the basket on a foul, when the outcome was to be settled by the accuracy of his throw. but never had he been as nervous as he was now. the ball flew straight and true, however. he saw it enter the window. and the next moment a tug on his wrist told him that boris had it. he waited breathlessly. then two short pulls signalled that boris had read his note and would follow his instructions. he gave three sharp tugs, and then settled down to wait, with beating heart, for now the crucial test was coming. the other sentry was about to appear. if he noticed the thin string, by any chance, the whole scheme would be spoiled and fred, in all probability, would be caught and treated as a spy. the man came around the corner of the house, walking slowly, his head down. as he neared the twine he stopped for just a moment and looked up. fred scarcely dared to breathe. he knew what had happened. the twine had brushed against the sentry's cheek. but then a puff of wind carried it away, and the man went on, brushing at his cheek, thinking, perhaps, a moth had touched it. one sharp tug of the twine. that was the signal to boris to go ahead. his eyes strained on the window, fred saw his cousin's figure appear on the sill, saw him climbing swiftly up a water pipe, and then saw him drop to the flat roof, hidden for the moment by a low parapet. then there was another period of agonized waiting, for again a sentry was to pass. fred used the brief interval of enforced inaction to loosen the rope and place it on the ground, tied to the loose end of the twine he took from his wrist, so that it would have a clear passage through the bushes. then the coast was clear again, and he signalled to boris to draw it up. up, up went the twine; then the rope started. and at last it dangled against the side of the house. fred, knowing it was there, could scarcely see it himself. he decided that the sentries would never notice it. then came the last pause. and when the sentry had passed the rope, boris slipped over the parapet and started his descent. he had to come quickly for he had less than two minutes to reach the ground and join fred in his shelter. down he came, hand over hand, so fast at the end, when he just slid, letting the rope slip through his fingers, that he must have burned the skin from his palms. but he made it, and came running toward fred. he was crouched low against the ground. but, just before he reached the bushes there was a shout from above, a flash, a loud report. a bullet sang over fred's head, and the next moment the garden was alive with rushing, shouting men, ablaze with flashing points of electric light. they tried to hide in the shrubbery. but in vain. at this last moment, when fred's plan had seemed sure of success, disaster had come--for some german officer, going on the roof, had been just in time to see the rope and spoil everything with his chance shot! chapter x sentenced both fred and boris recognized at once the hopelessness of flight. both thought instinctively of the hollow and the concealed entrance to the tunnel, and both knew that to attempt to use that now would not save them, and would give away a secret that might be supremely important at some future time, either to them or to someone else among those who shared the precious secret. the grounds were flashing with light in all directions; soldiers called to one another; men ran all around, looking for them. and yet, hopelessly caught as they were, neither could give up supinely. both had the dauntless fighting spirit that must be conquered, that will never give up, not only while hope remains, but while disaster, be it ever so certain, has not actually come to pass. they were in a sort of thicket, almost as thick as a primeval jungle. at the same moment the thought seemed to come to each of them that the one chance for momentary safety lay in keeping perfectly still. they were side by side, wedged in a little opening they had made for themselves, and now they went down together. all about them the din of the pursuit continued. officers were pouring out of the house to join the hunt. shouts and cries resounded. fred had to smile to himself. it seemed to him that the boasted system and order of the german army could not be what he had always heard about it if the escape of two boys could produce such a disorganization. and then there was a sudden diversion. the noise seemed to die away. it did not cease for there was still a good deal of talking, but there was no more shouting, until there was a sudden whirring sound. "an aeroplane!" whispered boris. "i've seen them for the last few days, flying in all directions. they use them for scouting." "i knew i ought to recognize that sound!" said fred. it seemed fairly safe for them to speak to one another now. for some reason it was quite evident they had been forgotten. there was an interval of almost complete silence; then came a sudden explosion of orders. half a dozen motorcycles sprang into crackling life; there was the unmistakable din of a powerful aeroplane engine, which, with no muffler, is noisy enough to wake the dead. then came the whirring of its propeller. they were sure that if they only dared to raise their heads, they would see the machine rising near by. but there was more to follow that was just as inexplicable. the motorcycles chugged away; then three automobiles started. their engines roared for a moment before they subsided to the ordered, steady hum of a smooth running motor. on the first car that got away there was a horn that made boris start convulsively as he heard its bugle note, and grasp fred's shoulder. "that horn belongs only to a car used by a full general!" he said. "it must be von hindenburg going, fred! that flying machine brought important news!" that had been evident to fred almost from the first. he wondered mightily what was going to happen next. it seemed incredible that the germans, knowing that he and boris must soon be found, and that only patience was necessary if they were to be caught, would so quickly give up looking for them. and yet--boris was right, of course. a general would not depart with such abundant evidence of haste and sudden decision unless some grave news had come through the air. one question was soon settled. scarcely had general von hindenburg's car started, with the musical call of its horn clearing the way for it, when the search for the two scouts was renewed with as much vigor as had been shown before the coming of the aeroplane. and this time it was speedily successful. there was less din and confusion. fred saw at once that some officer with a cool and level head had taken charge. the searchers now did the simple, obvious thing. they divided the grounds up into sections, and beat over each section thoroughly, with the result that a corporal and a private speedily came upon boris and fred, and, raising a sort of view halloo, dragged them out into the open, flashing their electric torches in their eyes. "here they are!" cried the corporal. "herr hauptmann, here they are!" a captain came up quickly, and at the sight of fred exclaimed sharply in his surprise. "you're the boy i chose to help with the work in the house here!" he said. his face darkened. "he is a spy! take him into the guard room and lock him up." he barely glanced at boris. "yes, that is the other. see that he is taken back to his quarters, corporal, and that a sentry remains constantly on guard." "he is not a spy! if he is one, then so am i!" boris broke out in a sharp protest. "he must be treated exactly like myself, or i must be used as he is!" throwing caution to the four winds. "i am giving the orders here," said the german, coldly. "we have no desire to treat you harshly, prince. you and your father have won the liking and respect of all your neighbors here, and it is a matter of regret that we must detain you at all. but you must be able to see for yourself that there is a great difference between an open enemy like yourself and one who pushes his way among us to get what information he can--" "i beg your pardon, captain," fred interrupted, thoroughly awake by this time to the danger in which he stood. "it was by your orders, and against my own protest, that i came into the house here at all." "you will have an opportunity to explain all such matters at your trial," said the captain. "i can assure you that all will be done in a regular fashion, and that you will have every opportunity to defend yourself. colonel goldapp will doubtless arrange for a quick hearing since we shall not be here much longer." fred was quite cool and collected. he was frightened, to be sure, and he was brave enough to admit that to himself. he had good reason to be frightened. there is no offence more serious than espionage in time of war, and by every rule of war he was a spy. he had pretended to be a german, which he was not, and had been found within the german lines. it was true, of course, that he had been ordered into headquarters, but that was a trifling point, and, though he had raised it, fred knew very well that no technicality would save him if the truth about him came out. boris understood all this, undoubtedly, quite as well as fred or the german captain, but he was beside himself. he felt that fred had run into this terrible danger because of him, in order to try to rescue him from an imprisonment that, though annoying, was by no means a serious matter. "take me instead of him!" he cried, forgetting that with every word he was really making fred's case worse. "i--" "i'll be all right," said fred, with a cheerfulness he certainly did not feel. "all i want is a fair trial. if i get that, i'll be all right." unwillingly enough, boris let himself be led away. something in fred's look, or in his voice, had warned him not to say anything more. so fred saw him go, and was taken himself to the guard room, of which he was the only occupant save for the impassive pomeranian sentry. fred guessed, somehow, that german soldiers in war time did not often do things that caused them to be put under arrest. in the little he had seen of them he had come to understand what it was that made a german army so formidable. he expected to be brought before the court early in the morning but, in fact, he was called out in less than an hour, and taken into the dining-room of the parsonage. here, at the head of the table, sat an officer in a colonel's uniform; colonel goldapp, unquestionably, presiding over the court, which included four officers beside himself. fred knew enough of the military law to understand what was going on. he saw a young lieutenant sitting with some papers before him. another came and drew him aside. "i am to defend you," this officer said, pleasantly. "that is, of course, i am to see that you get fair treatment. you are accused of being a spy. the charge, as i understand it, is that you are a russian, but have disguised yourself as a german. if this is true, the best advice i can give you is to plead guilty and throw yourself on the mercy of the court. your age will be taken into consideration." "i am not a russian," said fred, quickly. "i am an american. i demand an opportunity to see the american ambassador, or at least the nearest american consul." "is that all?" "that is all i can say. it is true that i am an american, and i believe it is my right, as a foreigner, to ask to see the representative of my country, since america and germany are not at war, but are friendly one to the other." "that would be true if you were charged with an offence in a civil court. but in a court-martial there are no such rules. once more, i believe your best course is to plead guilty. i do not know the evidence against you, but i can tell you that the court might be merciful if you admitted your guilt frankly, while it would probably treat you more harshly if you forced it to prove your guilt." fred shook his head, however. and so the trial began. it was a real trial, and fair enough, but a trial by court-martial is not like one in a civil court, especially in time of war. there were no delays. the judge-advocate stated the case against fred very briefly. he called as witness the officer who had brought fred into headquarters, who said that the prisoner had been entirely willing to come. then the corporal who had found him testified. and the third witness, when he was called, was none other than lieutenant ernst, who had befriended fred at virballen! at the sight of him fred's heart sank. he began to understand what a strong case there really was against him. at ernst's first words there was almost a sensation, for the lieutenant brought out the fact that fred was related to the suvaroff family. the fact that fred had gone straight to the house of his kinsman came out as a result of ernst's evidence, and fred knew that it would be useless to say that this had been the result of pure chance, and that he had not even known of boris's existence. it was true, but it was none the less incredible. it was easy to see when ernst had finished giving his testimony, which he did reluctantly, and with a good deal of sympathy for fred, that the court had made up its mind. there were no witnesses for fred to call. he told his own story, but it was not believed. the finding of the court was inevitable: "guilty as charged!" and colonel goldapp, in an expressionless voice, pronounced sentence. "the prisoner is old enough, though he is only a boy, to know the fate of a spy. he risked this fate. he will be shot at once. captain von glahn will take charge of the execution of the court's sentence." fred passed through the minutes that followed as if he were in a dream. it seemed to him that it was someone else who was led into the garden, placed against a wall, and blindfolded. von glahn, a young officer, came and stood beside him. "the firing squad will be here at once," he said. "i am sorry. is there any message i can deliver for you?" and then outside a bugle rang out, and there was a burst of wild, frenzied yelling and the next moment a crash of firing. chapter xi the cossacks something fell against fred, something heavy and warm. it was a full minute before he realized that it was von glahn, staggering, coughing. he supported the german officer for a moment. then they went down together with von glahn, still coughing terribly, on top. that saved fred's life. for over him now, for the next five minutes, there raged a furious fight. horses were all through the grounds; fred heard them, and the savage, unearthly cries of their riders. for the first minute there was a good deal of firing. he guessed that the firing squad that had been meant for him was putting up a stiff struggle; later he knew it. then abruptly it was all over. there was no sound save the groans of wounded men. the firing ceased, and with it the fierce shouts of those who had invaded the garden at that most critical of moments. fred realized afterward that he must have fainted, for when next he could see and hear, there was a faint light in the sky. he was aroused by the moving of the heavy weight of von glahn's body, and looked up to see a bearded man, small and wiry, in a rough sheepskin coat, who grinned down at him. "not hurt, eh, comrade?" said this man in russian. he seemed surprised when fred answered in his own tongue, and started back. but he had pushed the body of the german captain away, and fred rose to his feet a little unsteadily. it was a wild, strange scene upon which his eyes rested. all about the place where he had lain the ground was covered with evidences of a furious struggle. nearly a score of germans lay about, dead. among them were half a dozen cossacks, and over one of these stood a riderless horse, muzzling his master's body inquisitively. fred was about to question the man who had relieved him of von glahn's weight when there was a sudden rush, and boris, sobbing with delight, threw his arms about him and kissed him on both cheeks. "here--i say, boris, don't do that!" he cried. "oh, i forgot that is not your custom!" said boris. "but i thought you were dead! i thought they had killed you! i saw them bring you out from my window, and if the sentry had not stopped me, i would have thrown myself out to join you! come with me--my father is here!" fred was still dazed. his escape had been so miraculous that he wanted to pinch himself to see if he were still awake. a month before he had been at home in america, envied by the rest of his patrol because he was actually to go to far-off russia by himself. and since then he had been three times a prisoner, had been in danger of exile to siberia, and just now had escaped by mere seconds meeting a blast of bullets from a german firing squad, a victim of a war that had not even been dreamed of when he had sailed from america! but there could be no real doubt of the truth as he followed boris into the house. in the dining-room where he had been sentenced to death, he came upon lieutenant ernst, chatting amiably with half a dozen russian officers in their white coats. the german grinned at him. "you're in luck, youngster," he said. "i'm not so sorry, really! they didn't get what they came after, you see." "no, worse luck!" said a russian. "how did the old fox know we were coming?" ernst only looked wise, and did not answer. fred was surprised by the way in which captive and captors mingled, seemingly on the most friendly terms. but when he thought it over, it did not seem so strange. ernst and these russians knew what a huge thing this war was. each had his part to play, and would play it as well as he could. but individuals, after all, could not count for much, and the man who was prisoner to-day might be on top to-morrow. later bitterness and personal hatred might come, but as yet, as fred began to understand, these men hadn't come to that. they were like players on rival football teams after a hotly contested game. in the play each man would fight his hardest; after the whistle blew, friendship ruled. the referee's whistle had blown when ernst was caught in a trap. boris pushed on into a smaller room. here fred saw a man he would have known anywhere as boris's father, and, for that matter, as some close relative of his mother. alexander suvaroff, general of division in the russian army, looked very much like mikail, but there was a sharp difference between them. this suvaroff was as kindly in aspect as the other was repellent and harsh. his eyes twinkled affectionately when he saw fred. "welcome, cousin," he said. "even if our chief purpose failed, i am glad we got here in time to save you. you heard that general von hindenburg got away?" "i knew that before we were caught," said fred, "but i didn't know you had come for him." "of course they did!" said boris. "your wireless message told the staff he was here, and my father led a cavalry raid behind the german lines to try to catch him. but--he ran away!" the general laughed at the contempt in boris's tone. "of course he ran away!" he said. "i only wonder how he knew we were coming! that was bad luck--because not once did we strike so much as a german patrol as we rode." "i can tell you," said fred. "an aeroplane brought word. its pilot must have seen you as he flew overhead, and suspected that you were coming here." "so!" suvaroff frowned. "i did not think of that! however, it is better than what we suspected at first. it looked as if someone at headquarters must have betrayed the plan. well, it was too good to come true. if we had caught him and his staff, we might have hastened the end of the war by a good many months. von hindenburg is the ablest general in germany, though he has been in disgrace for years. they sent for him as soon as war came. he'll do good work." fred was thinking. "if that aeroplane saw you coming, general," he said, "isn't there danger that they may try to surround you here?" "yes, more than danger. they are sure to try to do it! but their cavalry is very slow, and i do not believe they have infantry enough near by to make any trouble for us." he frowned thoughtfully. "there is something very peculiar about the whole situation around here! if von hindenburg is here, it means that their chief concentration on this front must be here. and yet we get reports of an astonishingly small number of troops! not more than two corps." boris looked eagerly at his father, and then at fred. but before he could speak general suvaroff went on, crisply. "you can ride?" he asked fred. "good! i will see that you and boris have horses. then we shall start. we can be back in our own lines before daylight." fred hesitated. then boris took the words from his mouth. "father, i want to stay!" he said, eagerly. "it will be safe. i can get back to the house and they can never catch me there, you know! they may not even search for me, but if they do, i can hide from them in the tunnel. and you say the german movement about here is puzzling. would it not be well to have some way of sending word from here? ivan is at work. but no matter what he discovers, if we are not at the house, it will do no good. let me stay!" "i should like to stay, too," said fred. "impossible!" said general suvaroff at once to that. "you would be shot as soon as you were caught--you are under sentence now. they would not treat you as a prisoner of war, even if they caught you among my troopers." "but if they did not catch me--" "no! i cannot let you take so great a risk. you are of my kin, and i owe a duty to your mother. i shall see that you get back safely to russia and are sent home by sea from there." "but if i go into russia, i shall be arrested--those are prince mikail's orders," said fred, quietly. "i am sure to be caught there, and here there is a chance that i may not be found. if you take lieutenant ernst with you as a prisoner, no one among the germans will know me, except as i appear now. if i change back to my own clothes, i shall be safe from anything worse than detention. none of the officers of the court-martial escaped, did they?" "no, that is true," said suvaroff. he spoke thoughtfully. it was plain that fred's argument was making an impression on him. "i have heard something of your affair with mikail. i shall look into that. eh--i don't know just what to do!" "let us stay!" pleaded boris. "we will be careful, and we know now just what dangers we must avoid." "i think we shall be back here, in force, before the week is out," said his father, after a moment's reflection. "very well, you shall stay! it is true that you may be of the greatest service. i have not the right to consider personal matters when the welfare of russia is at stake." it was light by now. in curious contrast to the shambles of the garden and the disorder of the house, its windows shattered by bullets, its furniture broken and draperies torn in the swift conflict that had followed the appearance of the cossacks, roosters were crowing outside and birds were singing. general suvaroff gave a sharp order; subordinates passed it along. a bugle sounded, and, five minutes later, after the general had said good-bye to the two scouts, the cossack raiders rode away. they were strung out in a long column along the road. as they passed through the village fred and boris, watching from an upper window of the abandoned parsonage, saw the villagers watching. boris had a powerful field glass, and through this he and fred could see the very faces of the watching germans. hatred and fear mingled in the looks they sent after the invaders of their country. "one can't blame them," said fred, with a shudder. "war's rather ghastly, isn't it, boris?" he looked down into the garden, and boris's eyes followed his. "yes," said the russian. "that's the ugly part of it. it's all ugly. but sometimes war must come, it seems to me. we in russia have never wanted to make war. we have fought because we were forced to fight. i think that is what history will say of us in this war." "they are not going toward russia," said fred, looking after the raiders, who were melting into the landscape now. "their road seems to be due west." "they must ride in a long circle, i suppose," said boris. "if they went straight back, they would run right into the germans. there must be a lot of the enemy between us and the russian lines--their main body, you see. and my father won't want to fight. his object is to get back with as many men as possible. it would be useless to send a thousand cossacks against an army corps." "oh, of course! it's wonderful to think of how they got here, boris, riding right through the enemy's country! it's like the work cavalry did on both sides in our civil war. they used to get behind the enemy's lines and cut telegraph wires and railways all the time." in the village, there were now more signs of life. as the cossacks rode by, the street had been empty, but now men and women were coming out furtively. they began to come toward the parsonage. "time for us to go," said fred, with decision. "we wouldn't have much chance if they caught us here. and if we're to be of any use, those people have got to think that we've gone." "right!" said boris. "hello--look up there! i was afraid of that!" he pointed to a monoplane, flying high and coming from the north, from the direction of the baltic. "looking for the raiders," said fred. "let's hurry. i think we ought to report what has happened by wireless. your father's party may need help." chapter xii the trick it was nervous work going through the lower floor of the house, through the garden, trampled by the rush of the cossack charge, through bushes clipped and torn by bullets. all about was a curious silence, broken only by the sounds that the birds made, and the humming insects, which were not at all disturbed by war and the ruin it left in its wake. it was a relief to both scouts to pass into the tunnel. there everything seemed normal, strange though the place was. and in a few moments they were back in the great hall of the suvaroff house, and were being greeted with delight by old vladimir, though he reproached them, too, for coming back. their first thought was for the wireless. fred sent a brief report of what had happened, describing the escape of general von hindenburg. and then, as he was about to end the message, ivan stood beside him. his eyes were shining and he seemed greatly excited. "tell them that von hindenburg has only a masking force here with very few first line troops," he said. "most of the germans are far to the south. their plan is to join the austrians in an advance from cracow. here they hope to hold the lakes with a few troops. they expect our army to advance. they will give up johannisberg and ortelsburg. they will make no stand at all until we come to allenstein. the whole movement here is a trick. they hope to lead us on here and then drive a great wedge into the heart of poland, until they can strike at warsaw." fred made no comment. he sent the message, then asked his own questions. "you know of the raid last night?" "i heard something of it--and that the old fox hindenburg escaped. tell me the rest." "i'll be off," he said, when they had done. "half a mile away i have a cache. there is a motorcycle and the uniform of a german soldier--a man of the cycle corps. i shall follow general suvaroff." "can you catch them?" asked boris, doubtfully. "they ride fast." "not so fast," said ivan. "there may be fighting to do as well as running, and for fighting you need horses that are not too tired. it would be foolish to save an hour or two by hard riding and lose everything at the end for lack of the power to break through. and a motorcycle can do better than the fastest horse." "but how did you get one?" asked fred. "and the german uniform?" ivan smiled significantly. "i met a man of about my size," he said. "i was walking. and i was tired. i took his cycle and his uniform away from him." there was something about his tone and the look in his eyes that made fred refrain from asking any more questions. he admired ivan greatly, but he was a little afraid of him, too. in him he could see what lay behind the general belief that russia was still a barbarous, partially civilized state, the underlying truth of the old saying: "scratch a russian, and you will find a tartar beneath." he was glad that ivan was on his side, and was bound to him, moreover, by his loyalty to the name of suvaroff. "listen, now," said ivan. "here it is very dangerous. stay as long as you can, but never let yourselves be caught in the house by any germans. do not let the villagers see you. take to the tunnel without hesitation if there is an attack upon the house, or a search. i think you will be safe as long as you are watchful, but you cannot be off your guard for even a moment. the germans will think that you went back with the cossacks but they will try to make sure." "we will be careful," said boris. "you are sure of what you have learned? there will be no more than two army corps in this region?" "that is certain. i have scouted for twenty miles to the west and i have been along the railway lines. if there were more troops coming, i should have discovered it. i am sure of that." "and now you are going back toward our lines?" "yes. i may be of service to your father. and, in any case, i shall be of more use if i am with the german advanced position than if i stayed here, far in the rear. good-bye!" he departed through the tunnel. and then for fred and boris began a task almost harder than any that could have been set. they had to wait. there was nothing for them to do except sit in the little turret room. below, vladimir and the others kept a sort of guard, but there seemed little reason even for that. from the turret, whence the wireless waves were sent pulsing out through the air, a fine view of the surrounding country for a good many miles was to be had. for the most part this was a level section, slightly undulating, but with very few high spots. from their vantage point the roads stretched out like ribbons or like lines on a map. fred opened the wireless and amused himself by listening. at first he could hear only a confused jumble through the receivers that were clamped to his ear. then he changed his wave length, experimenting until he got a clear series of dots and dashes. "i think i'll take this down," he said to boris. "it'll be like greek to us, of course, but it's all german wireless talk, and it all means something. perhaps if we're lucky, we'll stumble on to the key of the code they're using, and that might be useful." after a time boris, who could receive well enough but was an inexpert sender, relieved him, and fred, taking the field glass, began to search the horizon. soon something caught his eye and held his attention. at first he thought he saw troops moving, coming from the east. it seemed strange that german troops should be in retreat so soon, but in a moment he understood. he did not see soldiers moving along the road, but a company of civilians, with carts that were drawn by men and women. at first the sight puzzled him, but then he understood, and he called to boris to look. "they're clearing out the villages toward the border," he said. boris only glanced through the glass. "yes. they were doing it the day after the war began, too," he said. "it's better for them, of course. if civilians are about where there is fighting, they are in danger from both sides. the germans wouldn't stop a minute at shelling one of their own villages if we were holding it. fred, i think they must be going to send our little lot away, too. there are soldiers coming along the road--uhlans." fred looked down and saw a picket of lancers approaching, headed by an officer. and in a few minutes there were signs of great activity in the village. soon the exodus began. and then the uhlans turned at the road leading up to the great house, and began to climb. "coming to warn our people, i suppose," said boris. "we'll make ourselves scarce, fred. vladimir can talk to them when they arrive." but fred did not go without one more sweeping look about him. and it showed him something that surprised him. "i've got a curious feeling," he told boris, when they had slipped into the secret passage. "i've got what we call a hunch in america--a feeling that ivan has been fooled. you didn't see what i did just now. i'm perfectly certain i saw troops marching on two roads that aren't very far apart, to the north." "marching east or west?" "east. i think a real trap is being prepared, boris. and--i'm going to try to find out the truth!" "how?" "i'd better not tell you, boris. go back and listen--see what you can hear at the thin wall. i'm afraid that if we both go we might be heard, if they are near there. i want to know where those uhlans come from." "all right," said boris, wondering a little. he went off, and fred, as soon as he had disappeared, began to make his way very quietly, almost stealthily, indeed, toward the other end of the tunnel--the one that gave to the open air. "he'd never have let me go if i had told him," he said to himself, feeling the need of justifying what looked like treachery, since his own conscience was accusing him. "and i didn't lie to him. i didn't say that i would be there when he came back. i only hope i get out before he finds i've gone!" when he reached the opening he felt safe, and there he stopped and wrote a note to boris, telling him what he meant to do and why he had not taken him into his confidence before. "he's sure to find that," said fred to himself. "he'll come down here looking for me, and i suppose he'd go out, too, no matter how dangerous it might be, if i didn't leave this note." as he swung the door that let him out, fred felt the little thrill that always came to him when he opened the way thus to the outer air. ever since he had come upon the german soldier here the first time, he had had this feeling. this time, however, the way was clear, and he slipped out and made his way swiftly toward the parsonage. he took advantage of every bit of cover for he had no wish to be seen, at least as yet. soon he reached the vantage spot he sought. from it he commanded a view of the village, and of the entrance to the great suvaroff house on the hill as well. the dismal procession from the village had already begun. the place, in fact, was already almost entirely deserted. orders from the army evidently counted for a good deal here. fred wondered what americans would have done in a like case. but the departure of the villagers, who knew him, and might have recognized him even in his german guise, relieved him immensely. before the house on the hill he could see a mounted uhlan on guard over the horses. the rest had gone inside. there were only five of them altogether, which made him feel confident that none would be left behind. there were too few for that. as time passed, he wondered why they stayed inside so long. in a way, it was to his liking that they should, but it made him nervous. he was afraid that a real search was being made; afraid that, by some stroke of misfortune, boris's hiding-place had been revealed. but at last he saw the solitary horseman outside the house stiffen to rigid attention. then the others came out, and he almost shouted in his relief when he saw that they brought no one with them. the officer swung to his saddle and in a minute more the little command was cantering down the hill. fred looked at the village searchingly now. there was no one left. a quarter of a mile away the rear end of the wretched procession of refugees straggled along the road, going west. they were not looking back. now it was time to put his plan to the test. the chances of full success, as he understood perfectly, were most remote. and the danger was great. he had not seen these uhlans; there might well be someone even in that small party who would recognize him. and he knew what would happen then, if he were caught. but his plan compelled him to run that risk, and he emerged from his shelter, and struck out boldly along the road the uhlans had taken to come to the village. he walked northeast, and he knew that that in itself would be suspicious, but it was all part of his plan. he had not long to wait for the plan to begin, or at least to work out according to his calculations. behind him he heard a shout, but, affecting not to hear it, he did not turn. and in a few moments he heard the sound of galloping hoofs behind him. even then he did not turn until a uhlan had ridden past him. "stop!" cried the soldier. "where are you going?" fred looked at him blankly. "stop!" said the german again, for fred, after having looked at him, had moved on. still fred paid no attention, and the man rode up to him and leaned over, dropping a heavy hand on his shoulder and shaking him in no gentle way. "where are you going, i say? answer!" roared the uhlan. but fred only smiled and pointed first to his ears and then to his mouth. by pantomime he pretended to be deaf and dumb. and when the officer came up, fred was still smiling--and silent. he knew he had never seen this officer before. chapter xiii the escape "what's the matter with him, schmidt!" asked the officer. fred knew enough of german uniforms by this time to place him as a lieutenant of the lowest grade, and was thankful that he did not have an experienced man to deal with. "deaf and dumb, i think, herr lieutenant," said the man. "i rode up behind him, calling to him and making a good deal of noise, but he did not even know i was coming until i was on top of him." "well, he can't go this way!" said the lieutenant. "how are we to make him understand that?" "if i dismounted and turned him about, he might perhaps understand," said the soldier. "try it!" fred had hard work to conceal his amusement but he managed it. the soldier solemnly turned him about and pushed him in the direction whence he had come. but fred immediately turned around, walked a couple of paces as he had been going, and then stopped, smiling broadly. then he turned around, shook his head violently, and turned back. "he's trying to tell us he wants to keep on the way he was going," said the lieutenant. the two germans seemed to be puzzled, but then the officer got an idea. he produced paper and pencil and wrote hurriedly. "who are you? where are you going?" he wrote. then he handed the paper to fred. fred hesitated for a moment. he understood german and could talk it very well. but he was a little nervous about writing it, especially in the german script. he could write it, but he was not sure that he could write it so well that it would seem like the work of a german. however, he took the chance. "my name is gebhardt," he wrote. "i come from munich, and i am visiting my uncle and aunt here at gumbinnen. my uncle sent me to insterberg and then i found i could not go back by train. soldiers have made me turn around so many times that it has taken me all this time to get here. why can i not go to gumbinnen?" the officer took the paper and, when he had read it, told the soldier. they seemed to find fred's explanation plausible, and his writing had passed muster. "here is a fine mess!" said the lieutenant. "poor boy! i feel sorry for one with such an affliction! and is he not between the devil and the deep blue sea? in gumbinnen there will be russian cavalry by to-morrow--and at insterberg, i suppose, the first real battle will be fought!" fred caught his breath. he was getting what he wanted now, certainly! if only he did not betray himself! if the officer would only go on and tell him a little more! and he did go on, almost as if he were speaking to himself. "if his people have any sense, they will have cleared out of gumbinnen before this. he knows someone at insterberg, perhaps, but if it is the plan to let the russians come so far without fighting and then strike while they are there, the population will have been ordered out. and they have been unloading troop trains at insterberg, too--so that the russians would not find out how many men we had here. eh--take him up behind you, schmidt! we can't abandon him. perhaps the hospital people or the cooks can make some use of him." fred heard this with a start of dismay. it was decidedly more than he had bargained for, because now that he had the information he had come to get, he wanted to get back to the wireless as quickly as possible. it did him no good to know the german plan, or to have a hint of what it was, unless he could pass on his knowledge to those who could make some use of it. but he could not protest when the officer wrote down an explanation of what was to be done with him, telling him that the road to gumbinnen was not safe, but that he would see to it that fred should get to a safe place. so when the soldier schmidt patted his horse's back and indicated that fred should climb up, fred had no choice but to obey. he had plenty to think of, too, as they rode along. for one thing, while he had taken his chance and won, since this officer had not seen him before, there was every prospect that he would be recognized if he were now taken to headquarters. he supposed that that was where they were going, and he knew that a number of the officers who had left the parsonage with general von hindenburg on the night of the cossack raid would be present. it would be strange, indeed, if none of them knew him. and it took no imagination to guess what recognition would mean. there was just one thing in his favor now. it was beginning to get dark. he did not know how far they had to ride, but he hoped it was a long way. ordinarily, he would not have wanted the ride to be prolonged because his position was highly uncomfortable. fred could ride well himself, but riding alone on a horse and sitting behind a man who fills his own saddle with very little to spare are two different things. try as he would, fred could not think of a means of getting away. to escape from five mounted men by slipping off the horse and running for it was manifestly impossible. he gave up that idea before he even elaborated upon it. but soon the glimmering dawn of an idea did come to him. the pace slackened, and he noticed that he and schmidt were falling behind. the lieutenant called out sharply, and schmidt, growling to himself beneath his breath, used his spur and brought his horse up into alignment with the others again. but only for a hundred yards or so. then the horse faltered and fell behind again. now the lieutenant reproved schmidt sharply. "i'm sorry, herr lieutenant," said schmidt. "my poor beast is very tired, and he is carrying an extra burden. he has had more work to do to-day than any of the others. if you would permit me to drop behind and come in alone--it is not so far now?" "very well," said the lieutenant. "we'll never get there if we hang back waiting for you." and he gave the word to ride on. schmidt at once began to take things more easily. fred heard him grunting to himself. "those verdamter young officers!" he grumbled. "just because they have a pair of shoulder straps, they think they know it all! i would like to put some of them across my knee!" fred knew enough of german discipline to be vastly amused by this. but he had no time now to think of trifling things. his whole energy was devoted to finding some way to turn this new circumstance to his own advantage. it seemed to him that there ought to be some way of managing it. and in a moment he got the idea. schmidt was as tired as his horse, or even more so, and by this time he was swaying in his saddle and half asleep, as a trained horseman often does. fred leaned forward and very quietly cut the saddle girth almost through. he knew that the slightest strain would finish the work. schmidt was utterly unconscious of what was going on. fred could tell, from the man's breathing, just what his condition was. he would snore a little and then, with a start, he would arouse himself, breathing normally for a minute. then the snoring would start again. he was trusting himself entirely to his horse. dusk had fallen now, and fred decided that it was time to see if his plan was feasible. he took a handkerchief from his pocket, rolled it into a ball, and flung it straight ahead, so that it fell, unrolling, right before the horse's eyes. the effect was inevitable. the frightened horse reared. at the strain the severed girth gave, and the saddle, rolling, spilled both schmidt and fred into the road, while the horse bolted. fred lay still, watching schmidt, who rose, cursing fluently, and stood for a moment staring stupidly after his horse. then he began to call, and broke into the awkward, lumbering run of the cavalryman. fred might have slipped away then, but he was sure that schmidt would catch the horse, which must, he thought, be trained to stop even after a momentary panic. and it was not his plan to seize a chance that might after all not be as good as it looked. he wanted to make as sure as possible of getting away. and now, as soon as schmidt had started after the horse, he crawled over to the saddle, which lay where it had fallen. he took the heavy revolver from the holster and was duly grateful for one thing he had noticed--these uhlans carried no carbines. their only weapons, seemingly, were their lances and the revolvers in their holsters. he was not a moment too soon. schmidt came back almost at once, leading his horse. he was scolding it for running, and he was also expressing his opinion of government saddles and leather. he found the broken girth, and sat down at once to mend it. fred scarcely dared to breathe for a moment. but schmidt did not notice the empty holster, and though he growled and swore when he saw how the girth had snapped, he did not seem to notice that it had been cut almost through. fred went over and looked at him. then, idly, indifferently, he went to the horse, which was standing perfectly still, though its flanks were still heaving. fred patted the horse's head. schmidt glanced around at him. his back was turned, and he seemed to see nothing worthy of attention in fred's attitude. and then, with one spring, fred was on the horse's back, and, bending low, was urging the tired animal back over the road he had travelled so slowly. with a cry of mingled rage and surprise schmidt leaped up and began shouting. but the horse, ready enough to obey when it was running riderless away, now obeyed the more convincing orders of its rider. fred, moreover, was a welcome contrast to schmidt's big bulk; there was a difference of at least seventy pounds. fred turned once to look at schmidt, and saw him staring with an expression of stupefaction at the empty holster. then he devoted himself entirely to the road ahead. it was as he had thought and hoped; schmidt did not have another pistol. and, with fred urging him on, the horse galloped on as if it had been really fresh. "thank heaven he's stupid, that schmidt!" thought fred. then he had a fit of remorse. he was afraid that it would go hard with schmidt, for he knew that in the german army excuses are not readily accepted. however, it was not a time to think of sentiment. fred was taking desperate chances himself, and it had been a case of seizing any chance of escape that offered itself. not only his own liberty, but very probably his own life had depended upon his getting away. he knew enough, by this time, to understand that the outcome of the first campaign of the war might depend upon the accuracy of the information the russians obtained of the german movements. it was plain to fred that the russians, in this quarter at least, had not been well served by their spies. he was surprised at the absence of initiative the russians had shown in some ways. aeroplane scouting, for instance, would have made it impossible for the germans to spring such a surprise as evidently was in preparation. the germans were using their aerial scouts. it was one of them, detecting the approach of general suvaroff and his cossack raiders, who had spoiled the plan for the capture of von hindenburg. but though he had felt that he was perfectly justified in sacrificing schmidt to his own need to escape, fred could not help feeling sorry for the poor fellow. "i hope he'll be able to think up a good story!" he said to himself. "and, by george, i hope i don't meet any more german soldiers! they would certainly finish me off if they found me riding on a german horse! there isn't anything i could do that would make them think that was all right, no matter how stupid they were!" he urged his horse on now as hard as he dared, tired though he knew it to be. his plan was simple enough. he meant to ride to within a mile of the village, and then dismount, letting the horse go wherever it liked. its usefulness to him would be over as soon as it had put him past the possibility of pursuit. he thought his troubles were nearly over. but suddenly, around a turn in the road, came a glare of light, and in his ears sounded the bugle of a german military automobile. chapter xiv altered plans fred's horse did for him what he could scarcely have done for himself in time. it reared and threw him, then bolted. tired already, the sudden appearance of the monstrous ray of light and the roar of the approaching motor was too much for that horse. fred was not hurt by the fall. having had no stirrups from which to disengage his feet, he was able to let himself go. and he had no sooner landed than he was up. for just a moment, he knew he must be plainly visible in the glare of the searchlight. but he dashed for the side of the road and made his way through a hedge and into the field on the other side. there he began to run as fast and as hard as he could. he had two chances, he thought. one, that he had not been seen at all; the other, that whoever was in the car might think he had passed on the flying horse. if he had been seen, however, he could not hope to escape by running. he was too tired, for one thing, after the strenuous experience of the previous night, and for another, he was almost certain to be seen, for after he had traversed a space that was covered with shrubs and young trees, he would be in the open. and a bullet could travel faster than he could. and so, after making his dash, he stopped running and threw himself down, facing the road, to watch and to listen. at first he thought he was safe, for the car roared by. but in a moment his ear caught a different note in the sound of the motor, and then the engine stopped. it started again in a moment, but now the headlight was coming toward him again! the car had been turned around. it was back, undoubtedly, to look for him. still he decided not to run, but to stay where he was, though every instinct prompted him to take the chance of flight. that, however, was pure panic, and he fought against the impulse. the car came along slowly. he was not more than a hundred feet from the road, and the headlight showed him the progress of the car. its blinding light, however, made it impossible for him to see the car itself or its occupants. it gave them the advantage. finally the car stopped, and he groaned. it had stopped exactly opposite his hiding-place! he had hoped that they would not be able to tell just where he had left the road, but in a moment the explanation came to him. he had trampled down the hedge in getting through, of course, and had left a trail that a child might have followed. then the headlight was switched off, and for a moment he lost the car altogether. his ears, rather than his eyes, told him that someone was coming. he heard the breaking down of the hedge, and then footsteps moving slowly, but coming closer. and in a moment he saw a little stabbing ray of light that wandered back and forth. whoever was stalking him was evidently not afraid of him. suddenly he remembered his pistol, the one he had taken from schmidt's holster. he gripped it convulsively. after all, he was not as helpless as he had believed. he waited. should he risk all now, with a shot--a shot that might warn this stalker off and give him another chance to escape, even though there were others in the car? he drew out the pistol, and cocked it. then, at the faint sound, a voice called to him out of the darkness. "do not fire! it is i--ivan! ivan ivanovitch!" for a moment fred thought he was going to collapse, so great was the relief and the slackening of tension. he did laugh out, but caught himself at once. "ivan!" he said. "i thought it was a german officer! it is i, ivan--fred waring!" "i knew it," said ivan, coming up close. "i saw you for just a second as your horse reared. it was just a flash of your face, but if i have ever seen a face once, i never forget it. and you have the look of a suvaroff about you, even though you are different. i would have known you for one of the breed had i met you anywhere in the world, had no one told me who you were. and so i turned to find you and follow you." "but what are you doing here? i thought you were to rejoin our own army?" "i was pressed into service as a chauffeur. this car was needed near the front, and there was no one to drive it. i deceived them wholly, with my uniform, and my motorcycle. and so they forced this car upon me! my plan was to use it, instead of my cycle, to get past their lines." "but you are riding straight to gumbinnen--and they are near there in force!" "no, they have retreated from there. they know that we are too strong for them, and they do not care to fight." "yes, and do you know why? because they have been bringing troops up secretly to insterberg, and are planning to fight a great battle there on their own grounds! you were wrong, ivan, in the information you sent." wasting no words, he quickly told of what he had learned that evening. and ivan smote his hands together for he was deeply troubled. "and i thought i knew all their plans!" he said, savagely. "if the staff had acted upon my information, we should have marched into a trap!" "now i must get to the wireless," said fred. "that was what i meant to do when you frightened my horse there in the road." "come, i will drive you back. it will not take long, and your work is more important than mine now. it is safe, too. you can be hidden in the car in case we encounter any germans. but that is not likely. they are not as thick in this district as they were forty-eight hours ago." they made their way together to the car, and fred laughed. "i don't think i was ever so scared as when you turned and came back. it was worse, in a way, than when they were going to shoot me in the parsonage garden. i'd been so sure i was safe--and then to hear that bugle call on your car!" "it is not right for you to run such risks," said ivan. "i wish you were behind our lines! you are not even a russian, and yet you have been near to death for us." "don't you worry about me!" said fred. "i don't suppose that i would have started this, but when i was pushed into it as i was, i feel like doing all i can. if the germans had caught me when boris hid me in the tunnel, they would have treated me like an enemy, so i thought i might as well give them a good excuse, since they were going to do it anyhow." "here we are," said ivan. "even if you were frightened, this may turn out well. you will save some time, and i can take you to the very opening of the tunnel." "well, it's only fair for this car to do me a good turn after the fright it gave me," said fred. ivan drove swiftly when they started again. on that deserted road, through a country that had been blasted by the approach of war, though as yet there had been no actual fighting, there was no reason for cautious driving. and five minutes brought them to the parsonage, and so to a point as close to the opening of the tunnel as the car could go. as the motor stopped ivan swore in surprise. "look!" he said. to the west there were a dozen darting searchlights winking back and forth across the sombre sky. and below the searchlights were hundreds of tiny points of fire. "they're advancing!" he cried. "and listen!" from the east there came a dull sound that rose presently to a steady, loud roar. "everything has changed!" cried ivan, his face white. "we are pushing the attack--we must have occupied gumbinnen! the germans are being driven back--and they are bringing up their supports! they must mean to fight here to protect the railway! this place will be the centre of a battle before morning! i shall give up my plan. the only thing that counts now is to get word to the staff of what is going on back here! come!" "what about the car?" "if it is still here after we have sent word, good! if it is not, we must do without it." ivan began running toward the mouth of the tunnel. but fred, before he followed, switched off the lights and ran the car off the side of the road, so that it was under the wall of the parsonage garden and sheltered, to a certain extent, by the heavy foliage of a large tree, whose branches overhung the wall. "i'd like to think that that car was where we could get at it," he said to himself. "i have an idea that this place is going to be mighty unpleasant before long." then he followed ivan. the russian had already entered the tunnel. fred, when he followed him, heard him running up the long passage that led up to the house. before he could reach the opening, however, he heard other steps coming toward him, and a moment later boris was heaping reproaches on him. "i thought they had caught you!" he cried. "i saw them chasing someone, and it looked like you. in fact, i was sure it was you at first sight." "it was," said fred, grimly. "i'll tell you about that later, boris! you'd better get everyone out of this place. we can't stay here any longer. unless i'm greatly mistaken, this will be used as a target for artillery by morning. it will if ivan is right." "he rushed by me just now. he would say nothing except that you were behind." "he's at the wireless. come on! we'll see if he has found out anything more." for ten minutes after they reached the turret, they could get nothing out of ivan, who was sending hard, with only an occasional pause to listen to what the other operator sent to him. then he sat back with a sigh of relief. "we were in time!" he said. "these troops back here are the ones that were supposed to be massing behind liok, to resist the feint we were making there. they are too clever, those germans! they have their airships to tell them the truth, and their railways to move men swiftly from one side to another. but they have not enough men! we shall beat them yet. our attack will stop. see--look here!" he moved to a table, and with pens and pencils made a rough diagram of the position. "they gave up gumbinnen without a fight, and formed in a half circle behind. they had so few men there that it was an invitation to us to try to outflank them. our right could sweep out and draw in behind their left--so. and then their supporting troops could outflank our right, in turn, and it would be caught between two fires! they have fewer troops than we in east prussia to-day, but ours are separated, while they risked all to bring all theirs together at this one point and left the south unguarded from mlawa to liok! oh, it was daring--napoleon might have planned that!" "i see," said fred. "then when they had won here, they could have used their railway to move troops southward?" "exactly so! a hundred and fifty thousand men all together can beat a hundred thousand, if all else is equal. but one army of a hundred thousand can beat two of seventy-five thousand apiece, meeting them at different times. so our attack will stop. we shall leave a covering force here at gumbinnen--or perhaps all our troops here will stay, but on the defensive, while others are rushed up from grodno to outflank them, not on their right, as they hoped, but on their extreme left!" he was silent for a moment. "i need one man here," he said. "one man, to keep the engine running for the dynamo. everyone else must leave this house. you, boris petrovitch, most of all--you and your cousin. i am responsible to your father for your safety for it is through my fault that the plans were badly made." "but why must you stay, ivan?" asked boris. "i must stay until i am ordered away," said ivan. "but it will not be safe here after daylight--perhaps there will be trouble even before that. yes, i think it will be very soon now." "well, i think i shall stay," said fred. "no," said ivan. "listen! if you go now, quickly, you can get away in the car. here is the road you must follow." he took a map and pointed. "see--swing west first, and then south--far south. so you will be safe from the germans, for they have abandoned that section except for the railway from insterberg to liok. that is guarded, but thinly. in the car are two long coats such as the german officers wear, and two helmets. they are under the rear seat. put those on, and you will pass most of their sentries, if you should encounter them." "if he says we must go, we must do it," said boris, quickly. "i should like to stay, too, fred, but he is right. we can do no good here, and if you are caught it will be very bad. it would not matter with me, for they would only treat me as a prisoner." fred was still unwilling. he had not boris's russian readiness to accept whatever came, but there was something about ivan that convinced him that argument would be useless. "go now," said ivan, "and god go with you! i will see to it that vladimir and the others follow." and so fred went through the tunnel again, this time with boris. he wondered if he would ever see this place again. chapter xv a dash through the night both boys were startled when they reached the open air again to observe how the din of the battle to the east had increased. they paused for a moment to stare at one another. "that is real war," said boris. "not like the skirmish here when the cossacks came." "the germans are giving way on purpose, of course, if ivan is right--and it seems to me he must be," said fred. "i am afraid to think of what will happen to him." "i do not like to think of it, either," said boris, "but it is fate. he has his work to do, and it is all for russia--for god and the czar! i have always been taught that we can die only once, and that it is a holy thing to die for russia." "yes, but it is better to live for russia than to die for her, if it is possible," said fred. "come! we have no time to lose, i suppose." they approached the car in a death-like silence. it was still where fred had left it. there was a little delay in the start. both fred and boris had driven cars, but they were not familiar with this one, and it seemed a good idea to learn the controls before they started. but in a few moments they were off. the car rode easily, and the motor was very powerful. it was a silent one, too, considering its great power. fred took the wheel first. "we can take it in turns," he said. "get some sleep, if you can, boris. i'll rouse you if there is any need of that. and i'll be glad to rest myself, after a time. just now i'm too excited to sleep, even if there were no especial reason for keeping awake." there was something so wonderful, so weird that it was almost ghostly, about that ride in its beginning. behind them was the din of the heavy fighting between them and gumbinnen. the sky was streaked with the flashes of searchlights, and the vibration of the cannon beat against their ears incessantly. yet the road before them, as it lay like a white ribbon in the path of the great headlight, was absolutely empty. they passed houses, went through villages. and in none of the houses was there a light or a sign of life. the whole countryside had been abandoned. "it reminds me of things i've read about the plague in olden times," thought fred. "people used to run away like that then, and leave a dead countryside behind them. it would almost look more natural if there were signs of fighting." there were to be plenty all about here soon. but that night there was nothing, save the inferno of noise and the dazzling points of light in the sky behind them, to suggest anything save the deepest peace. grain stood in some of the fields. in others, where the harvesting had begun, there were reaping machines. but despite the noise, there was a strange and unearthly silence. fred had driven at night through lonely country before, and he could remember the way dogs at almost every house had burst into furious barking as the car approached. now there were no dogs! it was a trifling thing to think of now, but just then it seemed to fred that the absence of the dogs meant even more than the dark, silent houses themselves. the houses did look as if their owners might be asleep within, but the dogs would have barked their alarm. and so that came to be the symbol of the flight of the people to him. they had many miles to go. after a couple of hours fred changed seats with boris, and for a time dozed, though he scarcely slept. however, he did get a good rest, and when they came near to the stretch of road that ivan had told them would mark the crisis of the trip, both boys were in good condition for the test. they slowed down at the sound of an engine's whistle, the first nearby noise that had come to their ears since they had left the parsonage. it startled them tremendously at first, but then they remembered ivan's warning. "there is one place where, for about four miles, the road runs very close to the railway," he had said. "the germans will have patrols all along the railway line, but there is no reason why they should pay any attention to you. be watchful--that is the vital thing. and especially so when you begin to descend a long hill. at the bottom of that hill the railway crosses your road, and that culvert will be watched with especial care. after that you will find the way clear, for our nearest outposts should not be more than a mile or so beyond the railway there. we would have seized the line before, except that until we had straightened our front in that quarter it would have been useless to do it." the whistle that they heard warned them that they were getting near to this dangerous stretch of road, and in a few moments the sight of a train, sparks flying from the smokestack of the engine, gave them visual proof as well. then for a time they ran along parallel with the tracks. fires were burning along the railway at intervals of about a hundred and fifty yards, and at times, in the firelight, they could see a dark figure moving slowly. "heaven knows what this bugle means!" said fred, as they drew into line with the tracks. "but if we sound it they may make up their minds that we're all right--and i'm not anxious for them to get curious about us." so he sounded the bugle from time to time. they aroused no curiosity. plainly these sentries thought there was nothing strange about the passage of a military automobile, nor, in fact, was there. it was not likely that they would know enough of the general disposition of the german army to speculate as to what officers might be doing hereabout. "here we are! we're beginning to dip," said boris, after a time. "the culvert ivan spoke of must be at the bottom of this hill. the road gets away from the railway again after that, and when we have passed there we ought to be all right." "there's just one thing," said fred, with a frown. "they must know just as well as ivan that the russian outposts lie not far beyond them. won't they think it strange for us to be going full speed toward the russian lines this way?" "no. i think that's easily accounted for, fred. there is a crossroad less than half a mile beyond that culvert. they will suppose that we mean to take the turn. ivan would have thought of that, i'm sure, if there had been any danger that they would not expect us to be traveling on this road." "i guess you're right, boris. it sounds reasonable. and anyway, if there is a chance, we've got to take it. i'm certainly not going to hesitate just for that after we've come as far as this. we'll soon know because, as you say, once we're past that culvert, we'll be safe. that's the crucial spot." the grade grew sharper as they descended, and the pace of the car increased. now, at the bottom, stretching across the white road, they could see a heavy shadow and above on what was unquestionably the railway, half a dozen lights. "they've got more than a sentry there. it seems to be a regular post," said fred, a little nervous, as they approached. "i'd like to slow down here--we're taking this hill pretty fast." "yes," agreed boris, who was driving. "but it's not just the time to slow down, is it?" "hardly. we've got to shoot under there so fast that they won't have a chance to find out too much about us. the headlight will help us, too. it ought to dazzle them so that they won't be able to see into the car at all. as soon as we're close to them, i'm going to sound the bugle pretty steadily." they rushed on toward the culvert faster and faster. the powerful headlight illuminated the scene before them, and they could see a dozen or more dark figures. and as they came closer, they saw that several men were looking at them, trying to shade their eyes with their hands. fred sounded the bugle steadily now, and saw that this seemed to relieve the watchers. for the first time he took his eyes from the culvert itself and looked around. the road here descended much more steeply than the railway, and that, fred judged, was the reason for the culvert. for the first time he realized that the culvert was not quite at the bottom of the hill; that beyond it the road still bore downward quite sharply for a space, until it turned. it was plain to him that there were more dangers ahead than those represented by the soldiers on the culvert. the pace of the rushing car was faster now than would have been altogether comfortable had they been on a road they knew perfectly. here, with a curve just ahead that was an unknown quantity, there was real danger in the sheer speed of the machine. heavy as the car was, it lurched and swayed from side to side. and simply to shut off the power would not have been enough. moreover, that was something both of them would have feared to do. the slightest mischance, the most trifling circumstance, might arouse suspicion in the watchers on the culvert. it was necessary, and ivan had warned them specially of this, to dash under that at the highest possible speed for there would be stationed not private soldiers alone, who would be likely to take it for granted that an officer's coat and helmet meant that all was well, but an officer as well. and an officer would be curious as to the meaning of this solitary car, rushing over a road that had been deserted, in all probability, for at least two days. no, there could be no slowing down, even had the fearful grade made it possible. then they flashed into the shadow. for just a moment, before they were actually under the culvert, fred, looking up, saw the white faces of those above, staring curiously. then he lowered his head, for he knew that his face and boris's gave the lie to their helmets. streaked with dust they both were, to be sure. there had been a mist in the low-lying country through which they had come, and the flying dust of the higher, drier parts of the road had caked on their faces. but they were not the faces of officers. fred thought he heard a shout as they passed under the culvert. but shouts were not enough to check them. what they both feared was a volley. and that, as they passed out and beyond the menace of the culvert, did not come. "look back! see if they are looking after us!" cried boris. "no!" fred shouted in his ear, for now the rush of the wind made it difficult for them to hear anything. "the light is on us now--they might see too plainly. and, if we were officers going as fast as this, there would be no reason for us to look back--oh! look out!" they had come to the turn. so great was their speed that they seemed to reach it before they were well out from the shadow of the culvert, yet they had traveled two hundred yards or more. there was nothing really to frighten fred as he cried out unless it was the sudden imminence of the turn, which had seemed much further away when they had first seen it. it was less what he saw than some indefinable thing he felt. whether boris's hand was wavering or whether some hitherto unsuspected weakness had developed in the machine, fred could not tell. but he seemed to sense somehow that all was not well. there was some break in the rhythm of the car's movement that warned him. now they took the turn. took it on two wheels--on one! for a moment it seemed that they must upset. then, by a miracle, the car righted itself. for a moment it seemed about to straighten itself out and resume its flight. and then, together, fred and boris saw what lay before them, and boris tried frantically to swing the car out. in the road lay the wreck of a huge van. it was too much for boris. he did swerve the car, but it struck the wreck. there was a deafening crash, and then they were hurled out onto the turf by the roadside, while the motor roared and flames leaped out over the wreck. chapter xvi between the grindstones for a moment fred was stunned by the force of his fall. but it was only for a moment, since, by something that was very like a miracle, he was unhurt. he got up and looked around, a little dazed, for boris. in a moment he saw him lying very still, his white face lighted up by the flames from the burning car. he ran over and he was vastly relieved to see that his cousin was conscious. "my leg is broken, i think," said boris, speaking quickly. "fred, you must run for it alone. you will be able to get to the russian lines. but hurry! they are coming, i'm sure! they must have heard the crash!" "do you think i'm going to leave you here?" asked fred, indignantly. "we'll sink or swim together, boris!" "why should two of us suffer when one can escape?" asked boris. "besides, you've got to go, fred, for my sake as well as for your own. they'll treat me well enough. but if they catch us here wearing german uniform coats--well, you know what that would mean!" fred was startled. he had not thought of that. "take my coat and helmet and get away as fast as you can," urged boris. "then i can say that i have been in the car. they'd know that, of course, but i could make them believe that i was in it against my will, and that the two men in uniform they saw had escaped. if they catch you, they'll send you back to headquarters and you'll be recognized there at once. then they'd do to me whatever they did to you, just because i was caught in your company. no, it's the only chance for either of us, fred, and you've got to take it quickly." the idea of abandoning a friend, and much more one who had come to mean so much to him as did boris, seemed terrible to fred. and yet it was impossible for him to refute boris's argument. his cousin was right. and now he could hear the voices of approaching men. naturally, if the germans on the culvert thought that a car containing two german officers had been wrecked, they would come to the rescue. there was no time to be lost. "i suppose you're right, boris," he said, with a groan. "but it's the hardest thing i've ever had to do! but it is so. it would make it worse for you if i stayed. that's the only reason i'll go, though! you believe that, don't you?" "of course i do!" said boris. "haven't you proved what sort you are, when you risked your life to try to help me to get away at the parsonage? go! hurry! get this coat and helmet off me!" so fred set to work. he had to move boris to get the coat off, and the russian groaned with the pain of his broken leg. fred dared not wait, now that he had made up his mind to fly, even to see the extent of the injury, much less to apply first aid. had there been time, he might have made boris comfortable, for, like all well trained boy scouts, he understood the elementary principles of bandaging and had made more than one temporary setting in splints for broken bones. but he knew that the germans would be there in a minute or two, and he had no reason to suppose that they would lack common humanity. they would care for boris. probably they had a surgeon back at the culvert, or fairly near at hand, at any rate. "get off the road," said boris, gritting his teeth. "my head is swimming, and i'm afraid i'm going to faint or do some such foolish thing! but don't stay in the road. they're sure to go along, looking for you." fred had reasoned that out for himself. and now, when he had rolled up boris's coat and helmet into a bundle, he leaped a narrow ditch and plunged into a thick mass of bushes. he did not know the country here, and had no notion of what sort of cover he might find. but luck was with him though for a moment he thought he had stumbled into a disastrous predicament. the ground gave way beneath him suddenly and he felt himself falling. he relaxed instinctively, and came down on hands and knees on a mass of leaves and twigs. he had fallen into a sort of shallow pit, but deep enough to shelter him. it seemed to him to be like a deadfall, such as he knew trappers sometimes make. the place was ideal for such a use, but now no steel-jawed trap yawned for him. and it was only a moment before he realized that this was just the hiding-place for him--and one, moreover, for which he himself might have searched in vain. "they'll never look for me as near the wreck as this," he said to himself. "they'll spread out probably, but i think i'll be safe here. as safe as anywhere, and it will give me a chance to find out what's happening, too." the side of the pit nearest the road was almost open, though it was screened by bushes and foliage. fred, however, was able to peer out and to see the dancing flames, giving a weird and ghostly appearance to the scene in the road. the germans were very close now and he had just time to poke up some branches to hide the opening through which he had fallen. then he lay down, his eyes glued to a sort of natural peephole that gave him a view of the road. "it's like a grandstand seat!" he said. "but i hope no one wants to see my ticket because i'm afraid the usher would make me change my seat!" but then fred had to give his whole attention to what was going on in the road. the germans came running up, a young officer in the lead. there were a half dozen of them. at first, as they looked about near the burning car, they saw no one. but then one of the soldiers saw boris and raised a shout. the officer went over, leaned down and then started back with a cry of surprise. "that is no german officer!" he exclaimed. he bent over again and fred winced as he saw him shaking boris by the shoulder. he wondered if boris was shamming, or if he had really fainted. then it was plain that there was no pretence. the officer, gently enough, raised boris's head, and taking a flask from his pocket, forced a little of the spirits it contained into boris's mouth. fred saw his cousin stiffen; he was coming to his senses. then the officer let him down, but made a sort of pillow for him with a cushion that had been thrown out of the automobile when it was overturned. "feel better? good!" he said. "now tell me what happened! where are the two officers who were in the car? were they hurt?" "i--do not know," said boris. fred had to strain his ears to catch what boris said. boris was weak and exhausted, and fred was glad that the german officer seemed kindly and disposed to be humane. "you do not know? how is that? you were in the car with them, weren't you?" "i was in the car, but i do not know what happened after the accident. i was thrown out--and i did not know anything until you roused me just now." "but what were you doing in the car, then? who were those officers? where were they going?" "i do not know. i know only that i was walking along the road, because all the people had been sent away from their homes, when the car stopped, and a man told me to get in and sit low, so that i should not be seen. then we drove very fast and after a while there was a crash, and i was thrown out." "can you walk?" the german's tone had changed somewhat. it was anxious now, and puzzled. "i--don't know," said boris. "there is a pain in my leg--here, right above the ankle. ouch!" fred saw the german officer slip his hand down over the spot to which boris pointed, and his touch dragged the exclamation of pain from boris. "you can't walk, that's certain!" said the german. "you've got pluck, boy! there's a nasty break there. you need a surgeon! well, i'll have to do what i can for you until we can find one. can you stand a little more pain? niehoff, give me your emergency kit. you have the splints? so! i shall see what i can do." he was busy for a moment. then with a sergeant, evidently his second in command, he withdrew to be out of boris's hearing. but as it chanced, his movement brought him to a point where it was easier than ever for fred to hear everything he said. "there is something deuced queer about this business!" said the officer. "i think this boy is telling the truth, but we saw two officers in the front seat of that car. that much was certain. they were not ground into powder in the accident, you know. if they had been killed, there would be something left of them. they got out all right--that's evident. and they made themselves scarce. they must have known we would come, and if they have gone so quickly, it is because they did not want us to see them at close quarters." "spies, you think?" asked the sergeant. "evidently! but how they got here i'd hate to guess! they came from a quarter where we are in complete control. yet they stole one of our cars, and a couple of uniform coats and helmets, at least!" "we can look further for them," said the sergeant. "yes--and one might look a long time in a haystack before one found a needle! however, let the men spread out along the road and see what they can find. give the order!" fred sighed with relief. he had been right in his decision to stay where he was, as he understood fully when he saw the soldiers go off down the road, looking for some trace of the passing of the two imaginary officers. meanwhile the officer went back to boris. "we'll take this lad back with us," he said to the sergeant. "he needs attention, and i prefer to give someone in higher authority a chance to talk to him. this is a very mysterious affair, all around. it is too much for my brain!" "and for mine, too!" grumbled the sergeant. "if i had my way, we would have orders to shoot all suspicious characters first and find out whether they deserved it or not afterward. i thought we should stop that automobile when we saw it coming." "and i did not," said the officer, sharply. the sergeant said nothing more. soon the men returned from their fruitless search. then a litter was improvised and boris was placed upon it and taken away. fred had been very fearful for it had seemed more than likely to him that a sentry would be left to watch the wreck. if that had been done, it would have complicated his position, because he could scarcely have hoped to get out of his shelter without making some noise. but this was a precaution that apparently did not suggest itself to the germans. and so, as soon as they were well out of hearing, fred scrambled out, leaving his dangerous coats and helmets behind, and began trudging boldly along the road. he did not know the character of the wooded section through which the road now ran, and it seemed to him that he would be safer in the road than if he tried to walk under cover. fred was very tired. and, now that the excitement was fading, he was beginning to realize that he had not escaped entirely scatheless from the wreck of the car. every bone and muscle in his body was sore and aching, and he wondered how many black and blue spots he would find when he got a chance to look for them. by ivan's reckoning, he had something like two miles to go to reach the russian outposts. he was now in a sort of no man's land that lay between the two armies. and, indeed, before long, he saw fires twinkling ahead--the fires of the russians. that was as he came to the crossroad of which boris had spoken. it seemed that his troubles must be nearly over. and just then he heard a clatter of hoofs and saw, riding up the crossroad toward him, a troop of german uhlans. he began running. but they had seen him and gave chase. he dared not stop. on he ran, hoping that the russians were nearer than their fires. chapter xvii an old enemy suddenly over fred's head there was a peculiar whistling. he had never heard that sound before, but somehow he knew by instinct what it was. he was under fire! behind him were the shots, but the firing was wild and at random. he plunged into the bushes now, for to do so was to choose the lesser of two evils. he was fairly safe, so sheltered from the bullets, since if they could not see him, the uhlans would not be likely to fire at him at all. and while it was certain that they could follow him in and catch him if he stayed in the brush, he would delay them at least, and the russians were so near that they might hear the firing and come up. that came about even sooner than he had thought possible. he stopped, panting. the uhlans were close on his trail by this time, and he heard them coming up. but then came a sudden shouting of orders, and, a moment later, a furious fusillade that was answered from the russian side. over the rattle of the firing, too, came a sound he remembered well, though he had heard it only once before--the yelling of charging cossacks. for the second time the wild russian horsemen had come to his rescue in the nick of time! but this time there was more of a fight, since the two little bodies of horsemen were far more evenly matched than had been the case when general suvaroff had led his daring raid behind the german lines in the effort to capture von hindenburg. for five minutes the fighting was fast and furious. fred could hear the clash of steel against steel and the spiteful spitting of revolvers and automatic pistols. then the wild russian shout of victory arose, and he heard sounds of galloping fast dying away. even though he could see nothing, he knew which side had won. "thank heaven!" he said to himself. "i wonder if they couldn't chase them and raid the culvert. there aren't so many troops there! then we could surely get boris away from them." but the first thing to do, of course, was to come out of his cover and make himself known to his rescuers. there was a certain risk in even that simple procedure, and fred was not so carried away by the excitement of the fight as to forget it. there was more than a chance that if he broke out, the russians would mistake him for some german who had tried to escape by taking refuge in the brush, and that they would shoot without waiting to make sure. but he had to take the chance, and he minimized the risk as much as he could by tying his white handkerchief to a stick and carrying it before him as he pushed his way into the ditch. he waved this as he emerged. at first no one saw him. then a cossack spied him and sent his horse straight at him. fred leaped aside as he saw that the man meant to ride him down, and, shouting, waved his white flag. he dodged the first assault, but the cossack spun his pony around in little more than his own length, and waving his dangerous lance, came at him again. he shouted again, and waved his white flag harder than ever. that would not have saved him, however, but just as the cossack lunged and fred threw himself down, sure that he would either be speared or trampled by the horse, an officer dashed up and struck up the lance with his sword. "don't you see the white flag?" he roared. "we do not kill men who surrender!" "they say that the germans are hanging every cossack they capture," said the man, sullenly. "never mind what they say!" said the officer. "hello! that man is not a soldier at all!" "neither soldier nor german!" cried fred in russian, springing up. "those uhlans were chasing me! i have just escaped from the german lines. i did not think that i should fare as badly among my friends as among the enemy!" "nor shall you, friend!" said the russian officer with a laugh. "so you are a russian? well, you look as if you might be anything!" "i'm afraid i do," said fred, a bit ruefully. he could imagine, even though he could not see himself, that the russian was quite right. he was caked with dirt. in the fall from the automobile, as he had discovered while he was walking away from the wreck, he had sustained a nasty cut over the eye, which, though it was not painful, had bled a good deal. and this had made his appearance even worse than it had been before. his clothes were torn, too. "who are you, and where do you come from?" asked the russian. in a few words fred told his story. when he said that he had left boris suvaroff a prisoner at the culvert, with a broken leg, the officer started. "can't you go after him?" fred pleaded. "they have very few men there. you could sweep them away." "not with this force. and i should not dare to go so far without special orders," said the officer. "we could not charge the culvert, and, approaching it from this side, we should have to ride uphill. but i am sure that when those in command know your story, a force will be sent to rescue prince boris. come with us now. i will get you a horse if you are able to ride. the uhlans left some behind!" fred could ride, and said so. and in a few minutes he was riding toward the fires that twinkled before them, side by side with the russian officer, who was anxious to know all that fred could tell him. "that was splendid!" he cried enthusiastically when he heard how fred had discovered the real purpose of the germans by his ruse in pretending to be deaf and dumb. "and it means, too, that we will get some real work to do here in this quarter. i thought at first that the army in the north would get all the fighting. we have been sitting here for nearly a week, doing nothing. this is the first skirmish we have had, for our orders are not to bring on an action, but only to prevent the enemy from coming toward us if they show any sign of attacking." "if what i have heard is true, there will be an advance from this quarter soon," said fred. "if the germans are to be outflanked, it must be by the troops here. and that ought to mean as much fighting as anyone could hope to get." "that is what we are looking for," said the officer. "but you--you will be glad of a rest for a time, i should think!" "i want to get my cousin back," said fred. "it was hard to leave him." "it was the only thing to do. you saved his life as well as your own by going. and one who saves a suvaroff does a fine thing for russia in these days--if this boris is like the rest of the breed." "oh, we have never known!" said fred, suddenly remembering. "did general suvaroff get back safely after he failed to catch general von hindenburg?" "he did! he had less than a thousand men, and he rode for sixty miles or more through a whole german army! he was intercepted but when he found a german brigade lined up in his path, instead of trying to circle around it, and so giving the germans time to surround him, he cut right through it!" answered the officer, smiling. "that was splendid!" "i don't think the war will show anything better!" said the russian, with enthusiasm. "he charged before the germans knew that he was fairly upon them, and the whole fight lasted less than ten minutes. then our fellows were through and riding for our lines. and the best of it was that not more than fifty of our saddles were emptied. the germans are wonderful fighters, i believe. we shall have a hard time beating them. but they fight too much by rule. a german cavalry commander would have been brave enough to try to do that, but he would not have tried because he would have known that it was an unsound plan." "i wish boris knew that his father was safe," said fred, a little sadly. "he has been worried, although he has said nothing." "eh--he might have known it! yes, he got back safely enough. as to whether he is safe now, that is another matter. he is in the thick of the fighting around gumbinnen, and he is not one of those generals who stay in the rear. he is like skobeleff. have you heard of him?" "he commanded at plevna, against the turks?" "and in a good many other battles! skobeleff, though he was in command of the whole army, would insist always on being in the thick of the fighting himself. he wore his white coat, and he rode a white horse. so he was always to be seen by his own men and by the enemy. perhaps he was wrong, but soldiers will fight better for a general who shares their perils. skobeleff used to do impossible things, because he believed that nothing was impossible that brave men made up their minds to do." fred thought of russian generals in the war with japan who might have changed the whole course of that conflict had they had such ideas. but he said nothing of this. russian soldiers were mindful of that disastrous war, he thought. and fred had an idea that before this far greater struggle was over, the world would have been forced to forget the failures of manchuria. men who fought as he had seen russians do were not going to be beaten again. fred was mounted now on a big, rawboned horse that had lost its uhlan rider. he was so tired that he was swaying in his saddle, and the russian noticed this. "keep awake a little longer," he said, cheerily. "we haven't very much further to go. in half an hour, i think, you can be in a real bed, with sheets and blankets." "i don't need anything like that," said fred, rousing himself and smiling. "i think i could sleep on a board that was studded with nails! and i know that they could fight a battle all around me to-night without waking me up when i once get to sleep." "i'd like to let you stop here--we are within our lines now--but i know the staff will want to see you and ask a few questions. and you have done so much already for russia that i believe you will want to do that much more before you rest." "oh, a few minutes more or less won't make any difference!" said fred. he yawned hugely. "as long as i'm awake, i can make myself stay awake. if i once let go, though, i promise you i'll be hard to rouse!" there were more russians about here than fred had supposed. it was plain that since ivan had had any information as to the conditions here, re-enforcements had been brought up, for it was not through outposts that they were riding, but through a large body of troops. tents stretched in all directions and fires were numerous, dotting the fields like stars. there were no woods here; it was open country again. to the left fred caught a glimpse of the silver sheen of a river reflecting the starlight. "how far are you going to take me?" asked fred. "to headquarters. we have less than half a mile to ride now. the general will be glad to see you." the russian chuckled, and there seemed to be a hidden meaning in his laugh. at any other time, when he was less weary, fred would have noticed that. he would have wondered at it, at least; he might even have guessed its meaning. but now he only asked, quite idly: "who is in command of the troops here?" "you will soon know," said the russian, repeating his chuckle. fred did, indeed, soon get the answer to his question. they rode up to a small farmhouse, ablaze with light, late as it was. the place was well guarded. the russian officer slipped off his horse. "wait one minute," he said. he went, and returned at once. then he led the way inside. and fred, all weariness banished by the sight, stared into the cold, evil eyes of mikail suvaroff, wearing his general's uniform. chapter xviii the great white czar there was a moment of absolute, chilling silence; the sort of silence that, in the old phrase, can be felt. for just an instant it was plain that mikail suvaroff did not recognize the nephew he hated. but then he knew him, and a flash of cold, malignant hatred lit up his eyes, while his lips curved in a curious, sneering smile. "so--it is you?" he said. "i thought i had not seen the last of you on the platform at virballen! lieutenant, you may leave us." "yes, general," said the lieutenant who had rescued fred. he was plainly puzzled and confused. "i did not tell your kinsman that you were in command here. i thought he would be delightfully surprised by being confronted with you suddenly. but--" "exactly! you were quite right, lieutenant. and now you may leave us!" the lieutenant flushed at the rebuke, saluted stiffly, and left the room. fred was alone with his uncle. "you are brave, at least," said mikail, presently. "that will, perhaps, be a comfort to you later. yet you were not well advised to serve the germans as a spy. they have not been able to save you from me this time, you see. it is not a case this time of the station at virballen, with the superiority of numbers on their side for the moment." "it is your cossacks who saved me from the germans," said fred. "i have been a spy--but it has been in the interest of russia. general alexander suvaroff and his son can tell you that." "perhaps," said mikail, his eyes and mouth fixed, so that no one could have guessed what was in his mind. "it is strange that you feel forced to call upon those who cannot say anything for or against you--since they are in the hands of the germans." inspiration came suddenly to fred, and he said nothing. he gave his uncle stare for stare. "well, what have you to say?" said mikail, at last. "what defence have you, spy?" still fred said nothing, and he saw the veins in mikail's hands swelling with anger. "so?" he said, when he understood that fred would not speak. "well, there will be a way to make you talk, doubtless. i might have you shot now--or hung. but you are my nephew. you shall have the fairest of trials, for it must not be said that i did not see that you were well treated!" he chuckled ominously. then he raised his voice. in answer to his call two officers came in. "you will be held personally responsible for this prisoner," he said. "he is to be sent at once to grodno for trial as a spy. i will dictate the process accusing him. let him be dispatched in the morning, under heavy guard." the officers saluted. then soldiers were called and fred was led away. from the first he realized the utter hopelessness of any attempt to escape. he was in the midst of a great army. he could not hope, no matter what happened, to get more than a few yards in any direction. yet even the thought of his peril did not keep him awake. no sooner was he put in the guard room, where half a dozen soldiers were with him, than he sank into a heavy sleep. he was too tired, in fact, to realize to the full how serious the matter was. but in the morning, when he was roused to partake of a meal, the full and dreadful peril of his situation came over him. there was something appalling about the way in which his guards looked at him. most of all, there was a terrible quality in the sympathy of the young lieutenant who paid him a hurried visit. "i did not know, of course," he said, quickly. "i should have had to take you to him, just as i did, but i should have prepared you for what was coming. i have heard something of the story. you have aroused the general's hatred--and there are terrible stories of his power. tell me, is there anyone who can speak for you? it may be that i can get some word to them--though it would cost me dear if prince mikail discovered that i had done it." "boris suvaroff and his father would help me," said fred. "but boris is a prisoner, and so is prince alexander, if my uncle tells the truth! and the american ambassador--though i suppose he could do nothing." "i will do what i can. and remember that dmitri sazonoff is your friend, and will believe always that you are a true friend of russia. good-bye! you go to grodno. there, unless there has been a change, are the headquarters of the grand duke nicholas nicholavitch, who is in supreme command of all our armies. you will be tried there by court-martial. i wish it meant more--but count upon me for all that i can do." it was still comparatively early when fred began his journey to grodno, which was, as he knew, one of the concentration points of the russian army. the trip was begun in a great motor truck, empty now, which had been used to bring food and ammunition to the front. it was one of a long train of similar vehicles, and in it he rode to the border, where he was transferred to a military train. he was able on the trip to see what was going on, since no attempt was made to keep him from doing so. and everything he saw served only to impress him more and more with the utter hopelessness of his position. the roads were choked with dense masses of advancing russians. troops, horse and foot, hospital trains, ammunition and provision trains, guns--all were moving up; evidently in preparation for the striking of a heavy blow at the german power in east prussia on a new line of attack. for the first time fred saw a country that was really in the grip of a modern army. the swift movements of the german army around the suvaroff house had not given this impression. there were not so many germans, relatively speaking at least, and their movements were made with less confusion and greater speed, owing to their possession of railways that had been built with an especial view to their being used in time of war. here the railways had all been destroyed by the germans who had retreated before the advancing russians. in many places, too, fields had been burned over, that the standing crops might not fall into the hands of the invaders. fred almost laughed at the irony of the whole sight. it was because of him that this movement was being made. at great risk to himself he had obtained the information that had led to the sudden change in the russian plans, of which the great movement he saw was a part. he should be receiving thanks and honors instead of being on his way to headquarters as a prisoner of war, condemned, as he well knew, in advance. for fred had no illusions. he knew the power of mikail suvaroff, who was so plainly an important member of the high russian command. against so great a man his word would be valueless. "this russian army is like a steam roller," fred thought to himself. "it may be stopped here or there, but not for long. it will roll over this whole country sooner or later. well--i'm glad! even if i've got to suffer because my uncle hates me, it's not russia's fault. i want russia to win." his guards treated fred well enough. he had an idea that he owed the consideration he received to lieutenant sazonoff. he was quite sure that general mikail suvaroff had nothing to do with it! and his journey, which might have been one of acute discomfort, was made more than tolerable. it was late when the train in which he rode after the border was reached arrived in grodno. here the army was in complete possession. men in uniform were everywhere; the civilian population seemed almost to have disappeared. the din was constant. for hours, after he had been taken to a cell in the central police station, he lay awake and listened. guns rumbled through the streets, motor cars chugged all through the night. he was aroused in the morning by sounds of frantic, steady cheering, and when the guard brought him his breakfast, he asked what that meant. the man's eyes lighted up. "the little father has come to be with his soldiers!" he said. "he has come to give us his blessing and bid us fight for him and holy russia! how can we lose now?" "the czar himself?" said fred. he smiled. he had hoped, when he left america, to see the czar before his return. there was small chance of that now, even though they were in the same town. the russians delayed as little as had the germans in bringing him to trial. and here in grodno there was even less ceremony than there had been in the dining-room of the east prussian parsonage. a young officer was assigned to defend him, but he took the task as a joke. "you'll be condemned, of course," he said. "prince mikail knows you are a spy. i think you're very lucky that he didn't hang you outside of his own headquarters! better plead guilty. it will save time for everyone." but fred refused. hopeless as the case was, he was still determined to take every chance there was, and to fight for every minute of delay. but the proceedings were soon over. the charge against him was read so quickly that he could scarcely follow it. he was allowed to speak for himself, but none of the officers of the court paid any attention to him. the verdict was quickly found. and the president of the court was just about to pronounce sentence when there was an interruption. into the room strode a man at whose entrance every officer started to his feet, saluting. the newcomer jerked his hand to his forehead, answering the salute, and then stood staring about. fred, had never seen such a figure. the man was a giant. he wore a khaki uniform. he was nearly seven feet tall, but he was so magnificently formed that it was only the way he towered over even the tall russian officers about him that his great height was apparent. fred knew him at once. it was the grand duke nicholas. "the court is dissolved!" he said, in a harsh, rasping voice. "i will take charge myself of the prisoner. boy, come with me!" utterly amazed, fred obeyed. the grand duke seized his arm in a vise-like grip and half pushed, half dragged him along with him. fred was too amazed even to wonder what had happened or what was to happen next. he found himself being led into a room that was filled with officers. they were grouped about one end of the room, where, near a window, there stood a short man in a brilliant uniform. fred gasped as he recognized him. at the same moment the grip on his arm was loosened, and the grand duke nicholas swept off his cap. "your majesty," he said, "this is the american boy of whom we have heard. one who has done such things as he is charged with must hear his fate from your own lips. he is charged by mikail suvaroff with being a spy and a traitor. on the other hand--" the czar smiled. "thanks to our good alexander, we know the truth," he said. "by your kinship to the great family of suvaroff, frederick waring, you are of our kin. were you a russian, there would be another reward that we might give you. but you own your father's nationality, though you have proved that there is good russian blood in your veins. it is our pleasure to confer on you the order of st. stanislas, with the crossed swords, given for bravery only! now you may go to the cousin who came here in time to save you." dazed, fred backed away, knowing only that he had not done the right thing. a hand fell on his shoulder and he looked up into the eyes of boris's father. "boris is waiting for you," he said. "the mystery of mikail's hatred for you has been solved. he is quite mad--he has been relieved of his command. i have long suspected this madness and now the whole world knows it! your trials are over, my american cousin!" "but how was boris rescued?" "your friend lieutenant sazonoff managed that. he got permission from his brigadier to attack the railway. i shall see that he is promoted." the boy scouts in front of warsaw or in the wake of war boy scout series volume by colonel george durston chapter i the disappearance it was the fifth of august. warsaw the brilliant, warsaw the beautiful, the best beloved of her adoring people, had fallen. torn by bombs, wrecked by great shells, devastated by hordes of alien invaders, she lay in ruins. her people, despairing, seemed for the greater part to have vanished in the two days since the fatal third of august when the city was taken. many of the wealthiest of her citizens had taken refuge in the lower part of the city, leaving their magnificent palaces and residences situated in the newer part to the flood of invading soldiers, who went with unerring directness to the parts containing the greatest comfort and luxury. warsaw is built in the midst of a beautiful plain mostly on the left bank of the river vistula. all the main part of the city lies close to the river, and the streets are so twisted and crooked that it is almost impossible to picture them. they wriggle here and there like snakes of streets. the houses, of course, are very old, and with their heavy barred doors and solid shutters, look very strange and inhospitable. people, in a way, become like their surroundings. here in these twisted, narrow streets are to be found the narrow, twisted souls of the worst element in poland; but the worst of them love their country as perhaps no other people do. to the last man and to the frailest woman, they are loyal to poland. for them, it is poland first, last and always. in these low and twisted streets, the devastation was greatest and the people had scurried like rats to cover. a week before they had swarmed the streets and crowded the buildings. now by some miracle they had gone, utterly disappeared. the houses were deserted, the streets empty. the destruction had been greatest in these crowded places, but many of the beautiful public buildings and state departments in the new part were also in ruins, as well as a number of matchless palaces. the people from the upper part of the city who had taken refuge in the holes along the river front, were for the most part a strange appearing lot. some of them carried great bundles which they guarded with jealous care. others, empty handed, sat and shivered through the summer night-chills that blew from the river. scores of little children clung to their mother's hands, or wandered trembling and screaming from group to group, seeking their own people. there was a general gathering of types. nobles mixed with the poorest, meanest and most criminal classes, and mingled with their common sorrow. for the most part a dumbness, a silence prevailed. the shock of the national disaster had bereft the people of their powers of expression. since , poland had been torn and racked by foes on every hand. prussia, austria and russia envied her wealth, courage, and her fertile plains. little by little her enemies had pressed across her shrinking borders, wet with the blood of her patriot sons. little by little she had lost her cherished land until the day of doom august third, . sitting, hiding in their desolated city, the people of poland knew that theirs was a country no longer on the map. russia, austria and prussia at least had met. there was no longer any poland. for generations there had been no polish language; it was forbidden by her oppressors. now the country itself was swallowed up. no longer on the changing map of the world had she any place. but in the hearts of her people poland lives. with the most perfect loyalty and love in the world, they say, "we are poland. we live and die for her." a gray haze hung over warsaw. the streets, after the roar of great guns, the bursting of shells, and the cries of thousands of people rushing blindly to safety, seemed silent and deserted. the hated enemy held the town, and the people of warsaw, most hapless city of all history, cowered beneath the iron hand of the enemy. as is usual in the fearful lull after such a victory, the town was filled with dangers of the most horrible sort. murder, crime of every kind, lawlessness in every guise, stalked through the streets or lurked down the narrow, dark and twisted alleys. the unfortunate citizens who had not retreated in time hid, when they could, in all sorts of strange places. they gathered in trembling, whispering groups, into garrets and cellars; even the vaults in the catacombs, the old burial place of the dead, were opened by desperate fugitives, and became hiding places for the living. the soldiers were in possession of all the uninjured residences in the more modern portion of the city, where they reveled in the comforts of modern baths, lights and heat. but the lower part of the city, lying along the left bank of the river vistula, was filled with a strange mixture of terrified people. in all the throngs, huddled in streets and alleys, storehouses and ware-rooms, there was perhaps no stranger group than the one gathered in a dark corner of a great building where machinery of some sort had been manufactured. this had, strangely enough, escaped destruction and stood unharmed in a street where everything bore the scars of shells or bombs. the engines were stopped; the great wheels motionless; the broad belts sagged hopelessly. even the machinery seemed to feel the terrible blow and mourned the fallen city. the persons huddled in the shadow of a vast wheel, however, gave little heed to their strange surroundings. they seemed crushed by a frightful grief more personal even than the taking of warsaw would cause in the most loyal heart. in the center of the group a boy of fourteen or fifteen years stood talking excitedly. he was tall, dark as an italian, and dressed with the greatest richness. two rings set with great jewels flashed on his hand and while he spoke, he tapped his polished boot with a small cane in the end of which was set a huge, sparkling red stone. he spoke with great rapidity, in the pure russian of the court, and addressed himself to an elderly man who sat drooping in an attitude of hopeless sorrow. near them sat a plainly dressed woman who buried her stained face in her apron, and wept the hard sobs of those who can scarcely weep more. a young girl clung to her, silent but with beautiful dark eyes wild with terror and loss. on the floor lay a wounded soldier, bearing in perfect silence the frightful pain of a shattered shoulder. his only bandage was a piece of cloth wound tightly around his coat, but not a groan escaped his pale lips. at the window, gazing down into the wrecked street, stood a tall boy of perhaps fifteen years. his face was bloodless; his strong mouth was set in a straight line; the hand resting on the window sill was clenched until the knuckles shone white through the tanned skin. desperation, horror, and grief struggled equally in his face. his left arm encircled a boy nearly his own size. he, like the woman, sobbed brokenly, and the taller boy patted him as he listened to the rapid words of the boy who was talking. suddenly the elderly man spoke. "you must pardon me, ivanovich," he said in a trembling voice. "i do not seen to comprehend. will you kindly repeat your account?" a flash of anger passed over the face of the young nobleman; then he spoke courteously. "certainly, professor! it was thus. you remember, don't you, that i came to your house as usual, five days ago, for my lessons in english? and you know the sudden bombardment, so close to the city, was so terrible that you would not let me go home? good! then you understand all, up to this morning. you know we had watched all night with the doors barricaded, and we decided it was too unsafe to remain longer in the direct path of those brutal soldiers. so we prepared to come here, to one of my father's buildings where there is a chute and an underground storeroom where we could be safe. "you send me for this cloak and when i returned, what did i find in the room where i had left everyone of the household gathered ready for the flight? the room was empty. i had been upstairs perhaps ten minutes because i could not find my cloak, and there was the room empty. sir, i was furious at you for leaving me. i am in your charge; i am a prince; yet you left me--" the tall boy turned from the window and spoke. "never mind that, ivan," he said. "just cut that all out and hustle to the part you haven't told." although he spoke english, while ivan told his story in russian, the boys understood each other perfectly for with a frown and quick glance, the boy ivan nodded and continued. "i stood for a while and listened but heard nothing. then i went through the other rooms on the floor, and all were empty. i decided to get to the warehouse alone if i could, and crept to the door. i drew back hastily. a horrible old woman squatted on the step. she was watching over two great sacks full, no doubt, of valuables stolen from your house and others. as i looked, two men came up. criminals, they looked, and i scarcely breathed. presently they went away, the men throwing the sacks over their shoulders, and the woman dragging a jeweled icon in her hand. "i heard footsteps behind me, and there you were coming down the stairs. you had that package in your hands, and you said, 'just think, i nearly forgot my book, ivan; my great book on the history of warsaw, now so nearly finished.' "you asked where the others were, and you said they had thought it wise to go in two parties. you said they had told you to be very careful of something; you couldn't very well remember just what, but it made you remember your book in your and you hurried to save it. so we hurried out, and managed to escape the soldiers, and get here and then everyone cried out, 'where are the children?'" "when i went to get my book," said the professor, with a groan, "they were sitting quiet as mice by the stove, holding each other's hands. how could they have gone off?" the woman looked up. "they could not go," she said. "i myself slid the great latch on the door; they could not lift it. i have seen elinor try to do so. the little stranger was much too small. the germans have them, i am sure of it." she bowed her head with fresh sobs. "there were no germans about," said ivan. "no soldiers of any sort; no one at all save the three of whom i spoke and they certainly did not take them away." "certainly not!" said professor morris, frowning. "they must have gone out and wandered off while i was after my book, although i distinctly told elinor not to stir from her seat. i have always endeavored to teach my children absolute obedience. i am surprised at elinor. she understood. she is six years of age, and she said, "yes, father." this is a terrible thing; but they will be found. i will report at once to the military authorities. i am convinced that they are safe. someone will take them in just as we took in the strange child whom we found at the door. that child, as you know, is a noble, yet she was lost. these are war times. people are glad to return lost children. they do not want them. now if i had forgotten my book, it might have been burned; three years of effort in this city wasted and lost forever! i will hide the manuscript in the underground room you told of, ivan, then we will go to the proper authorities, and get the children." "bah!" said the soldier with the broken shoulder suddenly. "go where thou wilt these days there is no authority save the authority of brute might. will that help thee?" "we must find them," said the professor brokenly. the seriousness of the affair was beginning to dawn on him. "it will certainly be simple. we will advertise." the girl at his side smiled. "advertise?" she said. "why, father, there are no papers left to advertise in." "ivan," said the tall boy at the window, "did you hear what the three people at the door were talking about? what did they say? the people you said looked like thieves." "yes, they talked," said ivan, "but it did not seem to mean much. i didn't get much from it anyway." "try to think what they said," said the boy. he passed a hand carefully across the bright fairness of his hair where a dark red streak stained it. "can't you remember anything they said?" ivan stood thinking, the jeweled cane still tapping his boot. "yes," he said, "when the men came up, they said, 'what have you?' the woman laughed--evilly, and said, 'all the wine we can drink, and all the bread we can eat, and all the fire we burn for years and years.'" "the man who had spoken said 'jewels,' and rubbed his hands. 'that is indeed good! jewels fit for a king!" the woman said, "jewels now, thou fool! where can one sell jewels these days when one cannot cross the border, and when the world cracks? no one wants jewels!" "'then what?' said the man. "'oh, stupid!' said the woman. 'pick up my sacks carefully and be off." "then the other man who had already picked up the larger sack, laughed. 'better than rubies,' he said. 'you are always wise, my woman!'" "and then the other man picked up the other sack and he laughed too, and the woman held hand to them and whined, 'please give me some money for these poor little refugees are starving!' "at that they all roared, and hurried on." ivan paused. "that was all they said," he added. "it doesn't help, does it?" the girl evelyn leaned forward. "say it again, ivan," she said excitedly. "say just what the woman said." ivan, repeated the words. evelyn whispered them after him. then a wild cry broke from her lips. she turned to her father who sat holding the package containing the fatal manuscript. she seized his arm and shook him. so great was her emotion that she could not say the words she wanted. "father, father, don't you see it now!" she cried. "oh, oh, father! oh, what shall we do? oh, my darling little sister!" she gasped, and the tall boy ran forward and seized her hands. "control yourself, evelyn," he cried. "i never saw you act like this. tell me what it is." she looked at him quite speechless. the agony of all that she had witnessed, the terror of the past week, the fright of losing her precious little sister scarcely more than a baby, the blindness of her father, all had combined to send her into state scarcely better than insanity. with a desperate effort to control, herself, she looked into her brother's eyes. "you see, don't you, warren?" she begged. "you can't seem to be able say it. say you see it too, warren!" then as if she had found some way of giving him her message of doom, she drooped against brother's strong shoulder and fainted quietly away. warren laid her down, and the governess rushed to her. "is she dead?" asked warren. "certainly not," said the woman; "she has fainted." "what did she try to tell you?" cried ivan. "was it something i said?" "yes, you told her," said warren, "and she read it right. i know she is right." "well, well, what is it?" demanded the professor. "this is fearfully upsetting, fearfully upsetting!" warren bent tenderly above his sister. she was regaining consciousness. "it is about as bad as it can be," he said hesitatingly. "the remark about refugees told the whole thing. our little sister was in one of those sacks, gagged or unconscious. they have been stolen to be used and brought up as beggars." a deep silence followed. the governess covered her eyes. the wounded soldier slowly shook his head. professor morris, ivan and jack stood with bulging eyes staring at warren, trying to make themselves understand his speech. ivan, who knew more of the ways of the half barbaric people of poland and russia, nodded his head understandingly. jack stood with open mouth. the professor rumpled his hair, though deeply, and laughed. "now what would they do that for!" he asked sarcastically. "that sort of thing is not done nowadays." "not in the best families," said warren coldly. "but it is done, i'll bet." "oh, yes, it's done," said ivan, "all the time. i know my father talked a lot about it just before the commencement of the war. he was going to try to stamp out a lot of that sort of thing, especially what affected the women and children. yes, it is done, professor." "not now," said the professor stubbornly. "there was recorded a case of that sort in , and even later in the early sixties. later, there are no records at all bearing on the subject. and if no records, surely there are no instances requiring the attention of thinking people. "it would be most natural to record any instance of the sort, however small and trifling. in my researches i would have run across the facts. there is no mention of it whatever." "i know it happens anyhow," said ivan, sticking to his point. "ivan, you forget that i am in a position to know," said the professor. "my researches have led me, thanks to the presentations of your father and many others, into secret records never before opened to outsiders of any race. i regret the stand you take with me. i am unused to contradiction." "pardon me," said ivan wearily. he looked at warren. in the minds of both boys there was a feeling that the mystery was solved. there was no longer any need to discuss it. a little search around the house would show if the children were there; after that it meant that evelyn was right. "well, ivan's right," said warren doggedly. "it doesn't matter what you have found in your researches, father; you have had those dry old records to prove everything to you. i have heard the people tell stories that would make your hair curl. they not only steal children, but sometimes they cripple them, just as they did hundreds of years ago in england. why do you suppose boys like ivan here are watched every second? sometimes they take them for revenge, but when they are gone, they are gone. you can't go out with a wad of bills and stick it under the park fence, and go back and find your child on the front stoop like you can at home." chapter ii the search begun "impossible!" said the professor. "impossible, warren! it surprises me that you should harbor such wild and impracticable ideas." "it makes sound sense, dad," said warren sadly. "europe has been full of beggars from the beginning of time. and soon, after the war is over, there will be thousands of sightseers flooding the continent. what could be more practical from the standpoint of such people as the ones described by ivan than to secure two beautiful little children like our elinor and the strange child that wandered to our doors? they would indeed mean 'drink and money and fire.'" he stopped and for a moment looked reproachfully at his father. "oh, father, father," he cried, "see what your dreadful forgetfulness has done! how will you ever forgive yourself when you think of the misery and suffering you have brought on your darling! i can scarcely forgive you." professor morris sat with bowed head. "my son," he said brokenly, "i can not forgive myself. i do not know what to do. i confess i did indeed leave the children. i thought of my book. i thought they were safe--and my book--warren, surely you do not blame me for getting my book?" he spoke tenderly, even lovingly, and clasped the bulky parcel to his breast. "no, i do not blame you for anything, father, knowing you as well as i do. it is a terrible thing, but we will find her, our precious darling, if we spend our lives hunting." he turned to his sister and brother. "won't we?" he said. they did not reply, but gazed at him with looks that were more than promises. "well," he continued, "i guess my boyhood is over now. my work is cut out for me. come on, ivan, come jack, let's get going!" "what do you think you are going to do, ivanovich?" asked the wounded soldier. like all his class, generations of submission made him ignore as much as possible all save the one noble. all his attention was given to ivan, the young prince. "be careful, ivanovich," he urged. "it is not possible for you to go forth in the clothes you wear. there is danger lurking abroad for the high born." ivan shrugged his fearless shoulders. "they would not dare to harm me," he answered. "he's right. those clothes won't do," said warren decidedly. "we don't know where we are going, nor whom we may meet. where can we find something rough for you to wear?" "down below are the workmen's extra blouses," said the soldier. "when i worked here, the room was kept locked, but you might perhaps force the door. there are blouses and rough shoes there. but i tremble; i tremble!" he suddenly lapsed into polish. "let these americans go, prince," he begged. "harm never come to them. they go always as though they wore a charm. poland shall yet rise, my prince. from these ashes she shall arise more beautiful than ever. she will need you then." ivan listened with flashing eyes. "i shall be here," he said simply. "i shall be here, i shall answer when she calls, but in the meantime shall it be said that in poland, even in her darkest hour, children were stolen for such evil purposes? never, never!" he turned to warren. "for a year now," he said, "we have been organizing these boy scouts that you have so many of in america. let us pass the word to them. if little elinor and the stranger are to be found, surely they will find them. my rank has always hampered me, but even then i know that boys will go where no others can penetrate. what do you think?" "it's the dandiest idea i ever heard!" exclaimed warren, his face lighting. "we will have to depend on passing the word to them as we find them here and there, but it's the only thing to do, so let's go to it." "first the workman's clothes," said ivan. "assuredly!" exclaimed the professor. "let us disguise ourselves and go forth. i know that we will find the dear children playing near the corner." "father, you must stay here," said warren, determination in his voice. "of course not; of course not!" said the professor. "do you expect me to sit idly here while my youngest child needs my protection?" a smile as sad as tears crossed evelyn's pale face. "you must stay here, father," she said. "you would certainly get lost, and then we would have to hunt for you. it has happened so before, you know." "that was very different," said the professor. "a man uses all his powers of concentration at times, and if it has happened that i have occasionally been so intent on my studies of warsaw's past history that i have for the time forgotten my surroundings, it is scarcely to be wondered at. the present occasion is different. you will need a man, with a man's wisdom, and a man's ability to act quickly. i must go; i am ready." warren, knowing his father's stubbornness, hesitated. catching his sister's eye, she shook her head slightly. professor morris was scrambling to his feet, still clasping his book. warren led his father around the narrow aisle that ran between the great machines, until they were alone. then he spoke. "father," he said, "you cannot go. today has made a man of me. i am sorry, father, but we children are the ones who are always the victims of your forgetfulness, and we have suffered many times before today. this is the worst of all. perhaps we shall never see our little elinor again; and i am the one who promised mother when she died that i would always look out for her. it is my fault that she is lost. i should have known better than to have left her with you, but i meant to see the others safely here, and get back before you started. "i know you, father; you mean to do the right thing by us always, but i certainly don't know what would happen if we did not look out for you as well as ourselves." his voice trembled. "i know this does not sound like proper talk from a boy to his father; but i've got to say it for once. i promise that i'll never speak so to you again, but i'm going to get it out of my system this time. since i can remember we have been looking out for you. we have had to take care of you and help you remember your meal times, and your rubbers, and your hat, and overcoat and gloves and necktie. we have had to see that you went to bed, and ate and got up and everything else. and all because of books. it makes you sore at me because i hate them. i ought to hate them! your writing and reading and studying have been the curse of our lives. i tell you, father, it has been just as bad as any other bad habit or appetite. why, when you are reading up for some article or digging into some musty old work, you are dead to everything else. and we have had to suffer for it. do you think any other man you know would have left those children a minute in a time like this?" he paused and once more pressed a hand carefully on the red stain across his fair hair. "oh, you must forgive me for talking so, dad, but i'm pretty sore. little elinor--" he turned sharply, and hurried away to ivan. the three boys hurried down the steep stairs and disappeared. professor morris for a moment, a long, dazed moment, stood looking blankly at the dark doorway through which his son had disappeared. then he sank weakly down on a bench. as a boy and as a man, he had been noted for his ability to memorize remarks. in college the worst of the lectures, no matter how dry, had been all imprinted on his mind. now as he sat thinking, he could fairly see his son's accusing words like large print before his eyes. for once in his life benjamin morris had heard the plain truth from the lips of his favorite son. yet he did not realize the seriousness of his son's charge. he had heard the words, but their real meaning did not seem to pierce his brain, so filled with knowledge that there was no room there for any interest in the living, or any thought that the present, the passing moment in which we make our little life history, is more precious to each of us then the great moments of the past, no matter how filled they may be with heroic figures. benjamin morris had been long years ago an infant prodigy. perhaps you fellows who read this have never known one; and if so, you are lucky. an infant prodigy shows an unnatural amount of intelligence at a very early age. so far it is all right; and if he belongs to a sensible family, he is urged into athletics, and sleeps out of door and manages to grow up so he will pass in a crowd. but sometimes there are proud parents who read too many books on how to train a child, and pay too little attention to the child himself; and there are aunts, perhaps, as well; and they all take the poor little genius and proceed to train him all out of shape. he rattles off all sorts of pieces, horatio at the bridge, and casabianca, and anthony's oration over caesar, are easy as pancakes and syrup to him. then he skips whole grades in school and plows through college like a mole under a rose bush, enjoying himself immensely, no doubt, down there in the dark, but missing all the benefit of the light and air and sunshine. so the infant prodigy gets to be a grown prodigy, and presently an old prodigy, never once suspecting that knowledge, hurtfully taken and wrongfully used, can be almost as great a sin as ignorance. certainly professor morris, whose sins of learning were heavy ones and bore cruelly on those who loved him in spite of his strange ways, would never have believed any of this. at home, as a boy, when benny studied, the house was kept so still that incautious mice sometimes came out of their holes and nibbled in broad daylight. at college his queerness, forgetfulness and oddity was excused because of his wonderful recitations and amazing marks. you just couldn't rag a fellow who made one hundred right along. when he married, he found a lovely, gentle girl, who believed him the greatest of all men and held his position as professor of ancient history in princeton as the highest of all earthly positions. but when elinor was a year old, the little wife died, quite worn out from looking after professor benjamin mollingfort morris, who had proved to be her most helpless and troublesome child. mrs. morris died warning her older children to look out for the father, and so passed her burden on to them. but some way or other, there was different stuff in the children. they did look after their father, and took good care of the old prodigy, but the task did not wear them out. young jack was indeed so bright that it rather worried evelyn and warren, who were always on the alert to overcome any symptoms of genius in themselves or the other children; but owing to their caution, he seemed to be developing well. and professor morris, blind to it all, forever digging in the dust of ages, knew nothing of the fact that he was the father of four wonderful children who were successfully carrying on the difficult business of growing up, managing a house, taking care of a parent, and looking after money matters as well. warren was the soul of honor. he hated school, but went without a skip, because it was right. and that's a hard thing to do. he looked clean, and was clean, and thought clean. and that's hard, too. professor morris, sitting in his study feverishly seeking facts concerning the table manners of noah's second cousin twice removed, was deaf and dumb and blind. yet when he occasionally "came up for air" as warren put it, the children thought him the finest and funniest and kindest of fathers. it was at one of these times that he came home with the news that he had been given a vacation for three years with full pay. this was to make it possible for him to go to warsaw, and write an account of some parts of the city's history of which rather little was known. warren and evelyn, who had read "thaddeus of warsaw" were wild with delight. it was a glorious journey and, on shipboard at least, it was easy to keep track of the professor, who had found a very learned englishman who disagreed with him on every known point. the two old men hurried to find each other each morning, and were dragged apart at night; and the children had time to enjoy the voyage and make many friends. in warsaw, which they reached safely, they took a house near the magnificent casimr palace which now houses the university. professor morris did find time to secure fine teachers for the children, and reliable servants for the house. warren, who always boiled with activity, soon made scores of pals, and immediately introduced the boy scouts to poland. the young polish and russian boys took up the work with the greatest enthusiasm, and time slipped happily away, until war swept the continent. professor morris refused to believe in its nearness until it was too late to escape, and they were forced to remain until the day when warsaw fell. now warsaw, beautiful and proud, warsaw the brilliant lay in ruins. professor morris, sitting humped over on the rude bench, thought of the wonderful chance that had brought him where history, tragic and important, was being made. he did not worry greatly over the disappearance of elinor. he remembered several times in princeton when she had disappeared. once they found her under a bed. he wondered whether anyone had looked under the beds in the forsaken house. the terrible idea that his baby girl might be actually lost in the terrible disaster of warsaw's defeat never once occurred to him. he was annoyed a little at the disturbance she had caused, and resolved to speak very severely to her. he determined also to reprove warren for his words; but reflecting on the terrors and excitement and peril of the past hours, he decided to treat it as a little boyish impatience, and overlook the whole thing. as for his going back to find elinor, he supposed it would really be a waste of time. warren would be perfectly able to find her; so he pushed the bench against the wall, snapped a pad from his pocket, was soon lost in pages and pages of notes on the events of the week. but down in the clothes room while ivan hastily took off his rich garments and fitted himself with rough work clothes from the shelves, warren morris walked the floor and groaned. "don't' take it like that, warren," said ivan, pausing to place a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder. "it is awful!" groaned warren. "she is so little, and so easily frightened. i believe it will kill her." "no, it won't," said ivan. "there is no coward's blood in elinor. wherever she is, she will know we will find her sooner or later. she will be looking out for us every minute. and no one will hurt her. you know people don't take the trouble to drag children off just to kill them. if the three i saw took those girls, they will be careful enough of them, you may be sure. i would rather have them there than with soldiers. the only thing i am hoping is that we can trace them before they leave the city. but i don't believe anyone, even with the best credentials, can get away for the next few days." "if we had anything for a clue," said warren. "can't you even remember what they looked like?" "not particularly," said ivan regretfully. "i would know them if i should see them again. one of the men had a very peculiar walk, but i couldn't describe it to you. it wasn't a limp; just a queer way of using his feet. i don't know whether i would know the woman or not. she looked like hundreds of the sort i have seen down in the open markets, some of them looking a little more so and some less." "how more so?" asked warren. "why, perhaps fatter, or thinner, or dirtier, but all lawless and no account. i tell you, warren," he said earnestly, "when i get to be a man, if our house is still in power then, i shall spend my time cleaning up the streets and people of warsaw. those old holes and rookeries down by the river, and the streets leading to the wharves have got to be cleaned out or wiped out." "better not let my father hear you," said warren. "he would tell you that all that section is historic, and therefore valuable." "perhaps it has been," said ivan. "but we can always refer to your father's great book on warsaw, and what the world needs now is light and space and air." "well," sighed warren, "perhaps the book will help some college grind, but if he had let the old thing slide, he would never have lost my sister." "i do think that we ought to look at it a little from your father's standpoint," said ivan gently. "you know the children were in the house and the door shut. they were playing contentedly, and he thought it would only take a minute to go upstairs and get the parcel. no doubt he was a good deal longer than he thought he would be, but he thought everything was as safe as it could be. i think we would have done the same thing. be fair, warren. don't you think so?" "i suppose so," said warren. "only now it seems as though it was not safe to leave them a second." "that's how it has come out," said ivan, buttoning his blouse, "but that's just the sort of thing no one could foresee. one thing seems certain, if we find them near, or in the house, well and good. if they are not around there somewhere, i believe evelyn has solved the thing. it doesn't seem possible, though, that anyone could have opened the door, and walked in, and dragged the children right in the house, without the least sound of disturbance reaching your father upstairs. myself, i don't believe the door was close latched, and it may be the children went out themselves. if they did we will find them soon." "elinor has been told a million times never to leave the house," said warren hopefully. "and you know she minds," said ivan. "i think we will find them all right, and evelyn just imagines things. the woman probably meant just what she said. she doubtless had candles from some church, and clothes and food in the bags. she had enough to last some time, judging from the size and weight." "i hope so, anyway," said warren. "are you nearly ready? if we could only run for it!" "we can't," said ivan. "the moment they see you run, you are in danger of being shot down. it won't take long, even if we do have to go slowly." "well, let's make a start, if you are ready," said warren restlessly. they opened the door and found evelyn waiting for them. she looked pale and weak, but greeted them quietly. "don't be any longer than you can, will you, boys?" she begged. "if she is hurt one of you stay with her, and the other come for me. don't try to bring her here." "they won't be hurt," said warren courageously. "but we won't bring them here at all. we will stay with them, one of us, and come back to tell you. you know they will be together." "how wicked i am!" said evelyn. "i forgot little rika. she has been with us so short a time. i am so thankful she is with elinor. they will not be so badly frightened." "of course not," said warren. "you go to father, evvy. we will come soon." chapter iii in warsaw's by-ways on the day of warsaw's downfall, a little girl, perhaps three years of age, wandered to the door of the comfortable old house where the morrises lived. she was dressed with the greatest richness. she was unable to tell her name, or indeed give the slightest clue to her home or family. ivan and the servants declared her a child of the nobility, but were unable to gain any information from her broken baby talk. she played contentedly with elinor all day, and at night when she was prepared for bed, they found secreted under her dress jewels fit for a king. chains of diamonds and rubies encircled her baby neck, and rings of the greatest value were sewed to her garments, while great brooches were pinned in rows on her little skirts. professor morris, after pronouncing the collection worth a couple of hundred thousand dollars, stuffed the lot in a couple of his coat pockets with the remark that he had better put them away! evelyn, however, took the jewels, and sewing them securely in a belt, fastened it around her own waist for safekeeping. no one doubted that the pretty child would soon be claimed. they soon discovered that her name was rika, but more than that she could not tell them. she did not seem to feel very lonely or frightened, although she fretted at bed time, calling over and over some name they could not catch. elinor was as delighted with her as though she had been given a beautiful new doll; and now evelyn felt sure that they would remain together unless parted by force-or death. the last thought struck to her heart like a chill, but she would not admit even the possibility of such a thing. the certainty that the children had been drugged and carried off in the two sacks battled constantly with the hope that the boys would find them playing around the corner, or hidden in some unfrequented spot. so it was with a cheerful trust that she said good-bye to the two young workingmen who presently issued from the door of the great store building, and went rapidly up the deserted and torn up street. they did not dare run. rather, they slunk along from building to building as though fearful of being seen. when they passed a wrecked chimney, fallen across the street, warren rubbed some of the soot and grime on his face and clothes, and told ivan to do the same. he thought very wisely that they looked too clean and neat for the parts they were endeavoring to enact. in addition to the soot, they were soon soiled and torn from scrambling over wreckage and even evelyn would not have recognized them. soon reaching the residence portion of the city, they began an immediate search for boy scouts. out of the hundred or so in their section, they were fortunate enough to find ten. several of these were searching frantically for relatives and friends. not one but had lost someone dear to him. they scattered with a will when warren and ivan told them about the two children, but the boys who had been nearest the professor's house, all said that they had not seen the little girls at all. there were no troops moving about that part while the boys were talking and planning, and they were not molested in any way when they scattered and began to search every foot of the neighborhood. noon found warren, ivan, jack and a couple of others near a wrecked and deserted bakeshop. there was no one to ask and none to object when they scrambled over the heaps of stone and plaster and wood, and tried the doors of the great ovens. sure enough, there they found, well cooked and safe, a supply of bread and meat and sweets. warren and jack were broken-hearted at the absence of the slightest clue to elinor, but they made a manly effort and managed to eat a good and nourishing meal, because they knew that they must keep up every bit of strength they had. at three o'clock by agreement they all met at the professor's house. not one had secured a single clue. they had searched every empty and ruined building and had asked every person that they had seen. no one had been able to tell them anything that sounded at all helpful. warren had thought that the fact that the strange child wore a scarlet dress would be the means of tracing them immediately; but according to the people they questioned, half the children in warsaw had worn scarlet dresses or coats. warren was sick with despair. after a short talk, the boys scattered again, working out from the professor's house like the spokes of a wheel for about half a mile. as warren decided that he had about reached the limit agreed upon, he stood thinking, when the shrill scout whistle sounded at his right. it was the signal to gather, and warren's heart leaped with delight as he thought, "elinor is found." he crossed the space like a whirlwind, leaping over fallen walls and dashing around buildings in his mad race. he found the scout who had whistled standing at the sagging door of what had once been a comfortable home. "where is she?" cried warren as he reached the doorway. the boy shook his head. he was deathly pale, and trembled. "it is not your sister; you may be glad of that; but we must do something. go in!" four other scouts came panting up, all flushed with the hope that elinor had been found. they followed the boy who had pushed warren through the hall and through another door. warren stopped appalled. half the wall was gone. a bomb had evidently struck the house. on the bed a young woman lay. she was quite dead. her ashy face told it without the evidence of the blood in which she was bathed. by her side lay a tiny girl. she, too, was still and cold in the last sleep of death, but by a strange mischance of war, a baby lay unharmed in the young mother's arms. unattended, uncomforted and cold, it had lain there for hours; yet it lived, and as the boys entered sent up a feeble wail. shaken to the heart, warren walked to the bed and picked up the infant. its cries had dwindled to a feeble whining, and it shivered. warren hastily unfastened his blouse, and pressed the little being to the warmth of his body. he could feel it press against him, or so it seemed to him, as he stood there in that chamber of death. his course, however, seemed clear. the living child in his arms must be cared for, and at once. he could only think of evelyn. the hospitals were either shattered or filled with too many wounded soldiers. there was no room in any place of that sort now for a little baby. life was cheap in warsaw that day. he would take it to evelyn and she would take care of it somehow. his own little elinor he dared not think of. it was with an almost breaking heart that he and the other boys rapidly retraced their steps and finally gained the warehouse. as he went up the long stairs, professor morris left his corner, and stood ready to greet them. he was smiling. "well, well, where is elinor?" he asked testily. "we did not find her," answered warren curtly. he was so tired that he staggered as he walked. he gained the top of the steps and, crossing unsteadily to evelyn, laid the baby in her arms. its little pinched face, and bloodstained dress prepared her for warren's story. "it is nearly starved," she said. "what shall we give it?" "i know," said ivan. "babies all drink milk, don't they? there is a court down below, and when we went out i saw a couple of goats in it." it was true, and the poor creatures were glad enough to be milked. the baby, finally fed and warmed, slept exhausted in evelyn's arms. in all the cruel war whose dark shadow obscured europe a great deal of suffering fell to the share of the poor little babies and the small children. to older children war could be explained. it was a vast and terrible something that swept away homes and food and comfort. it was a monster that devoured fathers and brothers, and left families without support, and homeless. but there was a reason that could be told, and which they could understand more or less. but the tiny ones, alas! what could be told them when their little world tumbled, when they were carried out from warmth and safety, when food was denied; when the bosoms that had warmed them grew cold and unresponsive, what could they do but suffer and die the slow, torturing death of hunger and cold? their little cries arose to heaven, there were no ears to hear them when the thunder of guns drowned all else. poor, poor babies! born, many of them, to enlighten the world with new discoveries, to cure the afflicted, to bring joy, they have perished as surely or a cause which they could not understand as have the soldiers in the trenches. when great nations are falling, and men are being mowed down like grass, in numbers beyond the counting, the lives of little babies can only be held precious by mothers who guard them with their every breath. the poor little bit of humanity found by the boys would soon have closed its little eyes in the death which had so suddenly overtaken the mother and sister. but it proved a sturdy little scrap, and after drinking all the milk they dared give it, cried for more. it was a pretty child, well dressed and well cared for, and evelyn studied it with tender interest as it lay contentedly in her arms. as she hushed and soothed it into sleep, she talked with her brothers. professor morris had gone to the other end of the long room, and they could hear him groan as he walked the floor. "don't you think that it would be safe now for us to go back home?" said evelyn. "we can always prove that we are americans, and i think there will be no more lawlessness. what do you think?" warren remembered the soldier with the wounded shoulder. "we can't leave peter here," he said. "why no, but he managed to get up here with help, and i think we can get him home with us. i don't know what else to do, unless anna is willing to stay with him until morning." "that's the thing to do," said warren, "but anna is such a scare cat." "she ought to be willing to stay with her own brother!" declared evelyn. "that shoulder will kill him unless cold water is kept on it all the time, until we can get hold of a doctor or get him to a hospital." "the hospitals are so full that you can't get inside the doors," said warren. "i found that out today." "well, we will ask anna, anyway," she said. she called to the governess, who approached at once. telling her the plan, evelyn waited for the woman to speak. "surely that is a wise plan indeed," she said, to their great relief. "peter could not be moved tonight. he is full of fever. and someone will find our little elinor, and take her home. then what could they do if the house was deserted?" "i never thought of that," said evelyn in a grief-stricken tone. "let us hurry and get back before it is dark." "yes," said warren, "we could not make it at all in the dark. the lights are all gone, and the streets are nearly impassable in lots of places. get dad, and come on. don't forget the book," he added, smiling bitterly. they hastily brought blouses and overalls from the clothes room below and made as comfortable a bed for peter as they could. there was plenty of goat's milk to drink, and bread from the bake shop, with which warren had thoughtfully had the boys fill their pockets. then, as the dusk gathered, they hurried out, professor morris clasping the bulky manuscript, evelyn carrying the sleeping baby, while warren and ivan supported her on either side, and jack went ahead to pick out the safest path. they reached the house after a hard walk, and were soon feeling some sense of bodily comfort after all the hardships of the day. they decided to act as nearly as possible as though they were but little disturbed by the past events, and to assume the position of foreigners who felt themselves under the protection of their own government. naturally, all their thoughts were of elinor, but night had fallen black and stormy, and in all the confusion and lawlessness there was nothing to be done but wait as best they could for morning. in spite of his anxiety, warren slept heavily and did not awaken until his sister shook him, and he opened his eyes to find that it was seven, o'clock. "no news, warren dear," said evelyn. "only that that poor little baby is certainly better. oh, warren, it is so cunning! i do hope it will be all right. i want to keep it if we do not find its father. all the rest of its family must be dead." she sat down on the edge of warren's bed. "do you know," she said, "i feel as though everyone besides ourselves is hurt or lost or dead or kidnapped? i have been thinking what i would do if anyone kidnapped me. i would try so hard to leave some sort of a message. i think if i had my diamond ring on, i would try to scratch something on a window pane." warren smiled. "try some other plan, evvy," he said. "they wouldn't be apt to wait while you found a window and scratched a letter on it." "you never can tell," said the girl. "anyhow, that is what i would try to do. get up now, warren, i have a nice hot breakfast for you. ivan is dressed and has been out getting things to eat." warren hurried down and enjoyed the nice breakfast his sister had prepared. jack, who had had his meal earlier, was awkwardly holding the baby, and seemed quite overcome by the task. breakfast over, warren went with ivan to the door, and stood for a moment looking down the street. a couple of men, very evil looking and dark browed, approached slowly, and passed on in the direction of the open market. ivan glanced carelessly at the pair, then stifled an exclamation of surprise. as they reached a safe distance, he clutched warren by the arm. "look, look!" he cried. "those are the two men who were with the woman with the sacks." "what!" cried warren tensely. "come!" he started out, and together they followed the two men. "what are you going to do?" asked ivan. "shadow them until i find where they stay. that woman is no doubt there, wherever that is." "i follow," said ivan briefly. warren paused. "you can't come," he said regretfully. "someone has got to look after dad, and as this is a dangerous job, it is my right, as the older, to do it. i wish you could come, but you see how it is, don't you?" "i suppose so," said ivan mournfully, "but get back so soon as you can. and if you find elinor, and need help about getting her away, come back or send, and i will bring all the scouts down." the boys shook hands and parted, ivan hurrying back to the house with the news, while the soiled work boy slouched along after the two skulking villains ahead. at the open market a few hucksters, braver than most, were selling meat and vegetables to as many as dared come and buy. the men ahead bought freely as though money was plenty. laden down with supplies, they finally turned and, walking rapidly, plunged down toward the river where the narrow, twisted streets invited criminals of every kind. warren, following them as far off as possible, had to act and think quickly at times in order to keep track of them. finally they turned into a street or alley leading directly to the river, and as warren hurried after them they disappeared as suddenly as though they had sunk into the earth. warren darted forward. it was a row of dismal, crowded houses, and warren was too far away to know just where the men had turned in. they had disappeared within one of the doors, and warren walked openly and boldly along, studying each house. it was a rash and reckless thing to do. warren forgot the teachings of his order, for there is nothing more persistently urged on a boy scout than caution. if warren had not been so intensely excited, he would have remembered this. but of course his excitement was an excuse for forgetting. it is when we are in dangerous and exciting situations that we must train ourselves to have every faculty at our command. it is the commonest thing in the world to hear people tell what they might have done, and unfold plans conceived after the necessity for them was past. such plans make good reading, but poor history. warren, of course, tramping hastily down a deserted street, lay open to disaster, and the defeat of his purpose. if he had reconnoitered as carefully as he had followed his game, he would have been able to locate them without the least suspicion on their part that they had been shadowed. it then would have been simple to have watched for some unguarded moment, when the boys could easily have gained entrance to their quarters and secured the children. there is no great deed accomplished in this world where caution does not play a great part. in war, in business, in sports, the man who looms the biggest after the game is done and people have the time to study things, is the man who had never once failed to exercise a proper amount of caution. in a fairy story this warning is given: "be bold; be bold--but not too bold." you see caution does not question or hesitate or delay too long. caution keeps right on, but slowly and with a careful regard to safe footing. caution keeps you from rocking the boat, and pointing the loaded gun, and skating near the thin ice. it keeps you from the heels of the kicking horse. it makes the good general save his men. warren forgot. after blocks and blocks of trailing, he bolted down the street, examining each house with anxious excitement. finally he discovered footmarks leading toward a dark, heavy door, and he stood looking the place over. it was a tall, narrow place which had, centuries past, been used as a dwelling. what it was at present warren could not guess, unless it had fallen to the level of the damp, rat infested hovel where crime and disease are bred daily in old towns like warsaw. strange carvings of dragons and monsters upheld the eaves and formed the heavy water spouts. the tiny, windows were bare and curtainless. they swung open in the wind that blew from the vistula. warren stood looking. he was all alone in the street. chapter iv hot on the trail the men had disappeared, and there seemed no further need for caution. as warren approached nearer, he noted the dark, tumbledown building, which looked as though it had been a ruin for centuries, dismal and uninhabited. only one thing was noteworthy. the door, a stout one heavily barred with ornamental straps of ancient and rusty iron, was fitted with strong, modern hinges, and had been closely fitted in anew frame. warren's keen eye quickly grasped these details as he sauntered past, and stopped before 'the building, but what he did not see, and could not guess, was the tiny auger hole bored close to one of the iron frets. behind that hole stood a man in whose cunning brain suspicion lurked; and warren did not know that after that close scrutiny the trained eye of one of the basest murderers and criminals in poland would now recognize him, no matter where they met. warren knew that he must gain access to the den, but how? thinking rapidly, he resolved to wait until the men again left the place, when he would rap at the door, and try to get in on whatever excuse he might need to invent when the moment arrived. he crossed the street, and entered an abandoned building. for two hours he waited in biding, never suspecting the anxious scrutiny he himself was undergoing. his wrist watch told him that noon was past. there was no sign of life in the street. remembering the loads of provisions that the men had carried, he decided that they did not intend to come out of their hiding place until nightfall. that would give him time to return, report to the anxious watchers at home, and consult with ivan and the other boy scouts. with warren, to decide was to act. he hurried through the shattered streets, wondering what the careful evelyn had kept for him to eat. as he turned the corner he saw before the house a group of people who seemed to be regarding it curiously. warren hastened his steps. pushing through the group, he entered. the door, torn from its hinges, swung against the wall. in the hall a heavy chest of drawers was overturned and the drawers piled together on the floor. the contents were scattered everywhere. calling the names of the family, warren dashed through the rooms, vainly hoping to find some trace of his people, or some explanation of the new disaster. returning to the door, he appealed to the bystanders. what had happened? they told him that they had come down the street just in time to see the soldiers leading off a group of people. more than that they did not know. they supposed that they were now dead. it was what happened in war. warren returned to the house, his head whirling. this seemed the last and most crushing blow. to have such a thing happen just as he was about to rescue his little sister and reunite the family! he could not imagine why this thing should have been done. why should any soldiers molest american citizens? utterly overcome, he sank down in a chair by the window and leaned his head on the sill. all gone! he did not know what to do. his quick and clever brain for the moment refused to act. he raised his head and looked dully out into the street where the group of curious people was slowly moving away. for a long time he stared, then his eyes suddenly set themselves on something nearer. dumfounded, unbelieving, he glared. it seemed that he could hear evelyn's voice, evelyn's own words. "if anyone kidnapped me," she had said, "i think if i had my diamond on i would try to scratch a message on the window pane." indeed, her mother's ring had served her well. before warren's eyes, on the glass, evelyn had left her message: "arrested as spies. ac't dad's book. taken to camp. find ivan. tell consul. help." clutching the arms of his chair, warren sat staring at the message on the window pane. he read it over and over. a curious feeling that his eyes were tricking him possessed him. he reached out and rubbed the message slowly, fully expecting it to disappear. the letters felt rough under his fingers. it was really written there with evelyn's diamond. still unbelief possessed him. how had it happened that she had foreseen this dreadful mischance clearly enough, in some mysterious way, to plan the delivery of the saving message? as warren looked, the events of the last few crowded days seemed to rise up and bear him down under their horror and immensity. he sat clutching the arms of his chair, and with unseeing eyes stared and stared at the letters. all at once he felt very young, very helpless, very lonely. america, his own dear country, with its safety and its careless, unthinking haphazard hospitality for every living person who seeks her shores; america seemed suddenly to be set farther than the farthest star. like most american boys, warren was clever, shrewd and ingenious. life with professor morris had trained him in ingenuity and efficiency. since his earliest remembrance it had fallen to his lot to act as the head of his family, making decisions that usually are the sole right of fathers and guardians. but now, under conditions of horror and tragedy, he realized that he was after all only a boy; and the thought came to him that he and his, dear and infinitely precious as they were to each other, counted not at all in the great tragedy of war. who was there to help? the american consul was powerless for the time, if he could be found. warren knew that the portion of the city where he had lived was a shapeless ruin. the boy continued to sit motionless in his chair, desperately, desperately puzzling the dark mystery. gradually in warren's dazed mind the whole affair took definite shape. they were gone; arrested on suspicion. for the moment at least he felt sure they were safe, even in the hands of an enemy who had shown themselves utterly cruel and heartless. he felt sure that if they were suspected of being spies every effort would be made to make them confess before they were executed, if it did indeed come near that question. but "find ivan." what did that mean? evidently ivan was not with them. as though in answer to his thought, warren heard or thought he heard a faint shout. he listened. it was repeated, with a sound of pounding and banging. once more warren searched the house, beginning with the old dusty, rambling attic set close under the great beams of the old house. down he hurried, from room to room, looking in presses, under beds, and listening in each room. as he reached the kitchen, the sound seemed clearer. it was ivan's voice. he opened the cellar stairs and went down. once, years, even generations past, the house had been the residence of a noble. the cellar was not the one or two rooms of the modern house. it was vast and vaulted and contained a dozen dark, unlighted apartments, all with heavy, iron-barred, oaken doors. professor morris said that two of the rooms had been used as dungeons and it was in one of these that warren found ivan. he stumbled over him as he opened the door. the boy was bound, but lying on his back, so had been able to hammer on the door with his feet. the sound of pounding had carried even better than his shouts. warren hastily untied the cords that secured him and helped him up the stairs. he was stiff and sore from the cramped position, but once in the upper rooms, he took a deep breath, and proceeded to tell warren the events of the morning. once more professor morris was the cause of the disaster. the professor was, fortunately, of uncommon type. he was a modest man--so modest that it even ceased to be a virtue, and became an annoying and irritating trait. he never stood up for himself, nor for his family in any way. the saying, "generous to a fault" likewise applied to him. he was a spendthrift in kindness, giving not only money needed for himself and the children, but bestowing his time when he needed it himself. his learning he gave recklessly, too, writing long, learned articles for little or no pay, and without a thought that the material given away was just so much capital. but of one thing he was jealous, careful and touchy. his book, his almost completed work on warsaw. it was to be a book of books, so clear, so accurate, so full of new f acts that it would be a treasure among the literary treasures of his time. professor morris believed in the book with the conviction that comes to writers when they have done something really good. he knew it was fine. it was more than a history of the beautiful and fated city. it was written in such golden, flowing english that the hardest and driest facts in its pages were polished and placed like jewels of great price in their descriptive setting. and they were jewels. he had mined them out of strange places in that ancient town. he had taken his time and in digging for his beloved facts, he had found many an unexpected wonder. knowing his father as he did, warren could see the story told by ivan as plainly as though he had been present. one thing made him smile as he recalled it. his father would not use a typewriter, and anything written in his strange, cramped hand would look suspicions at once. and he knew, too, that his father would resent even the touch of strangers on the beloved pages. he smiled a little bitterly. "go on, ivan," he said. "let's hear it all." "a detachment of soldiers came down the street," said ivan, rubbing his lame muscles, "and as they came they looked through every house. i suppose they were on the lookout for troops of our soldiers. when they reached this place, your father met them at door and talked a moment with the officer in charge. of course evelyn and i did not know what they said, but the officer grew angry and your father just stood there and smiled and shook his head. then evelyn went to your father and as soon as the officer saw her he bowed very low, and in english said, 'prettee, prettee.' evelyn came back to us and took the baby from jack. "then the door slammed, and we heard the big bolt fall, and your father dragged that big chest across it and came in as pleased as could be. he said, 'there, i have settled that! such impertinence! they wanted to search my house!' "but at that, blows fell on the door and presently it fell and the soldiers rushed in. your father had his book and was trying to hide it in the lining of a chair. of course they at once thought it must be plans or something of the sort, and professor would not tell them a thing and we couldn't because we could not make them understand that it was just a book about the history of warsaw. when they took it from your father, of course he resisted, and that settled the matter. we had to go to the headquarters. of course, your father would have followed his book wherever that went. as we started, the officer took evelyn by the arm, and i think i hit him pretty hard for it. anyway he gave a command, and a dozen big fellows took me and tied me up and carried me down here. it is a good thing you came, warren." he shuddered as he thought of the possible ending that his adventure might have had. warren was deep in thought. one event pressed so closely on another that things lost their significance and importance. "we have got to get a hustle on now," he said. "your american hustle-on; that means act quickly, does it not?" said ivan. "we must indeed hustle on. let us find where they are, and then apply to your consul." "that's all right," said warren, "but i don't think they are in any immediate danger and i think the first thing to do is to got hold of elinor." "get hold of her," said ivan. "do you know where she is?" "yes, i think i have found her," said warren and commencing at the moment when the boys parted on the street, he gave ivan an account of his morning's discoveries. "good! good!" said ivan. "we will go together this time, and together we will rescue our pretty little elinor. have you made any plans?" "no, i haven't," confessed warren. "i don't know what ails me; i seem to be perfectly brainless today. it looks like i am losing everybody that belongs to me." ivan shrugged his shoulders. "look at me," he said. "my mother long dead, my father somewhere on the field of battle, or lying dead in the trenches. i do not know; but i must not think. what i want to do is to save professor morris, my second father, and evelyn and jack and elinor, who are as sisters and brother to me. let us start and plan as we go." "have you any money?" asked warren. "i have not a single copper." "nor i," said ivan. "we ought to have some," said warren. "we might have to bribe those people." ivan laughed, and felt down his blouse. "this might help," he said. "i hate to give the small one up. it has been in the family, always worn by the eldest son, for more generations than i know; but if we have to give it, it will come back. it always has." he offered warren two rings, magnificent jewels. warren shook his head. "i hope we won't have to use them," he said. "what of that?" said ivan. "jewels, even family jewels, do not count for much beside the dear ones. ah, warren," said ivan, "it is hard for boys to talk, even here in poland, where it is easier to say what is in one's heart than it seems to be with you americans. but let me tell you now all that i think. we do not know what we may get into today, what peril--maybe death. i feel danger approaching; i cannot say how. all the people of my house have been able to foresee disaster. what it is i know not. so i will say that so long as i do live, i will never cease to love you and yours. i want you to take this ring that we have held so long and if we are parted, wear it for the sake of prince ivan of poland." warren swallowed hastily. "same here!" he said. "you know darned well i'm strong for you, old ivy scout." he felt hastily in all his pockets. "haven't a thing to swap," he continued, "not a--" he drew out his hand with something in it. "guess this will have to do," he said. "it's a buffalo nickel, but i brought it from home. you can have it." "thank you so much. i will always keep it," said ivan. it was so. years after, if warren could have looked into the future, he would have seen a magnificent figure at court, one decoration on his jeweled breast being a coin around which sparkled a double row of priceless diamonds. the coin was only, a nickel but that mattered not to prince ivan. as the boys approached the street where warren had located the house of the thieves, they decided to hide for a little in the ruins across the street, and watch for awhile in the hope that the door might open, or the two men come out. they made the approach one at a time, and settled down for a long wait. an hour or more went by, and all at once warren stuck out a long leg and noiselessly kicked ivan. the oaken door across the street was ajar. just a crack, and for a long time it remained so, while the boys scarcely breathed. it opened slowly, and the two men came cautiously out. they did not glance across the street, but looking carefully up and down the crooked alley, closed the door carelessly, and went off at a brisk gait without a glance behind. the boys looked at each other. "now!" said ivan. "wait!" answered warren. "give them time. no doubt they will be gone most of the night." there was a long silence, then glancing at his watch, warren said, "come! do you see that door? they did not latch it. i don't believe there is a soul over there but the woman. there is just one thing to do. go over and look in; and if she is alone we will rush her, tie her up and get off with the children. we can do it." "that's the only thing to do," said ivan. "let's go." the street was deserted as they crossed it and stepped close to the oaken door. it was ajar, and they could see the interior of the dark, prison-like room. the woman was there bending over a pot that swung on a crane in the fireplace. a heap of filthy rags was in a corner near by, and lying there was little elinor and the strange child rika. a sob rose in warren's throat as he saw his sister, so pale and thin and terrified she looked. he heard ivan's breath come sharply. "let's rush!" he said. "you can't!" answered ivan. "don't you see the chain on the inside of the door?" "it's light, we can break that," answered warren. "get yourself together. when i say three, throw your whole weight. grab the woman as quickly as you can." "all right," said ivan. warren stepped back a space and held himself for a spring. "one, two," he counted slowly. "three" was never uttered. he heard a strange cry from ivan; and as he did so, a frightful blow from some heavy, blunt instrument struck him squarely. he crumpled down unconscious. ivan, behind him, evaded the blow aimed at his head by the second ruffian, and quick as a panther stood back to the wall, gazing at his assailant. "hands down," said the man, grinning evilly. "hands down before i brain you!" "what do you want with us?" demanded ivan. the man laughed. "what would we want of eavesdroppers and spies? this is our house, poor as it is. we will guard it when young thieves like you come peering in the cracks. what did you think to steal of honest men as poor as yourselves? your friend here deserves his broken head. must i give you one, or will you come with me peaceably?" "i'll come if you will tell me what you are going to do with us," said ivan. again the man laughed, and with his foot shoved the body of warren lying motionless on the ground. "come on," said the other man. "why waste words? get hold of him and bring him along!" "let me have my way," said the man standing over ivan. "this amuses me. come, come, young one, what will you-obedience or a broken head?" ivan was silent, then he spoke. "i won't fight," he said. "you are too big, but i won't go in that door with you." "so!" said the man. "then we do it in this fashion." he made a rush at ivan and seizing him in his arms, held him until the other man lifted warren and so, half carrying and half dragging ivan, he followed through the dungeon-like doorway into the gloom and chill of the great room beyond. chapter v in the enemy's hands ivan's first impression was of a dead, heavy chill which the fire burning in the great fireplace at the other end of the vast room was powerless to lighten. the place was half underground, and what light entered was filtered through dusty and cobwebbed panes of leaded glass set high under the vaulted roof. the windows partially lighted the heavy oak beams which supported the ceiling, but the lower parts of the room lay in deep shadow. emblems and rude pictures were scratched and chalked on the walls, but ivan could not make them out in the dim light. running the width of the room before the fireplace was a massive table, and on either side of it were benches built where they stood. from the size and strength of them, they might have been intended for the use of a race of giants or exceedingly fat men! their carved bases spread heavily apart, and huge dragon claw feet braced them on the floor which, beneath and around the table, was carefully paved with stone. at one side of the fireplace a great pile of wood was placed, broken and splintered pieces picked up from the buildings which had been shelled by the great guns of the enemy. bits of oaken beams, pieces of rare, highly polished furniture, and scraps of priceless carvings made the pile which soon would go in flames to cook the wretched supper even then in course of preparation. a woman stood by the table, scraping scales from a fish. a heavy knife was in her hand, and as she raised her dark and scowling face ivan recognized her and shuddered. as she stood watching the entrance of the group at the door, scowling and peering through the gloom, she looked to ivan's eyes like one of the furies of the french revolution. all the history he had read of that dreadful period was made clear and real to him. ivan, closely watched, and closely guarded from harm, had up to the time of the bombardment of warsaw, never come in contact with anyone out of his own noble class with the exception of the morris family. his father, knowing the educational standing of professor morris in america, and judging the whole family by his mild, inoffensive manner, had decided to allow ivan, his son, to learn english from the professor. it had not occurred to him, a man of many affairs, to suspect the presence of an ingenious lively, mischievous whirlwind in the person of the professor's elder son. when ivan told his father with enthusiasm of the professor's family, the prince imagined them of course to be exactly like the professor, and rejoiced that ivan could be among such studious and book loving, quiet people. so he told ivan that he might spend what time he liked with the morris family, and then forgot the whole thing in the fearful question of war which soon arose. when he left for the russian front he left orders that in case of any peril or disaster ivan was to go to the morris house and there remain for greater safety. before the happenings of the last chapter, however, ivan had been almost constantly with warren for a year, and had so imbibed his democratic ideas and had studied so hard to make good as a scout that prince ivan the magnificent, had he returned, would have had difficulty in recognizing his only and dearly loved son. but as a matter of fact, ivan the magnificent did not return. instead, blood stained, mud stained and distorted, he slept in a far away trench past which had swept the invaders' line, grim and terrible. he had fought well and desperately for the honor of poland until at last, under a leaden rain, ivan the prince had gone to meet the fate of ivan the man. and not one word of this did ivan the boy suspect. it had never seemed that harm could touch his wonderful father. he must be safe; and ivan moved through his many adventurous days with only the thought that he would have so much more to tell his father on one of the rare and precious evenings when prince ivan's duties at court and with his regiment would allow him to spend a few happy hours with his son. so it was with a keen and appraising eye that ivan viewed that dark and dungeon-like interior, thinking to tell his father all about it. the woman beside the table scowled darkly as she saw the group. "what now?" she demanded. "are those the spies? they are nothing but boys! why do you bother with them, michael paovla, why did you bring them here? crack them on the head! the river runs swift enough down the street there." she brandished her knife as she spoke. "i will not give them one single meal, do, you hear that?" "peace, martha! do not jest," said the large man with a wry smile. he looked at ivan as he spoke. "who are you?" he asked. clothed as the boy was in mean and soiled garments, there was still something distinguished about him. he stood proudly erect. perhaps his name would help out. "ivan ivanovich, of the house of sabriski," he said, looking the man in the face. the three shouted with laughter. "isn't he clever?" cried the woman. "ask him something else!" "no," said the man. "i want to think that over. come, it is cold here!" he picked warren up from the floor where he had thrown him, and, carrying him down the long room, made his way around the great table and dropped him roughly on the pile of rags where, elinor and rika were crouched. poor little elinor, huddled on her pile of rags, did not recognize the limp burden carried in by the larger of the two men, whom she had learned to dread with unspeakable terror. when he threw it down in the middle of the room, the pale face was turned toward the child, and she recognized, warren. she commenced to scream. shriek after shriek left her pale lips, and the man started over to her side, when a short, sharp word silenced her. she looked to see who had spoken, calling her so familiarly by name. "stop, elly, stop," said the voice in english, and her cries were stilled as by magic, although she still gazed with longing and terror at the pale face down which a tiny line of blood trickled. the second man clasped a second boy, dirty and torn, and meanly dressed in a workman's blouse. she stared at him, never recognizing ivan, whom she had always seen so gorgeously clothed in furs and fine broadcloth and exquisite linen. it was not until he spoke again that she recognized him. "be quiet, elinor," he said. "we will save you. warren is not hurt, he is just dizzy. he will be all right soon." ivan spoke hopefully, but as he looked down at the boy lying before him, he wondered in his heart if there was really a spark of life left in that still, pale, bleeding body. as for elinor, after the first outburst, she sat dumbly trembling. the past day and night had been so crowded with horrors that the tender children were fast passing into a state where they neither realized nor felt the hardships and abuse they were subjected to. the time when they sat playing in professor morris's quiet house seemed too far away to remember. they had been playing happily, the two children, when the family decided to go away for a few hours, but so happily were they with their dolls and each other, that they paid no attention to the stir and unrest about them. even elinor, who was almost six years old, had not concerned herself with the sound of the big guns. she did not notice when her father left the room. if he told her, as he thought he had, to "sit quietly" and await his return, she failed to hear him. so she took rika by the hand and "went, visiting." they sat down on the top step, and looked into the empty street, and watched occasional groups of fleeing poles hurry past to the safety of the plains. a rough looking woman came past, noticed them, and returned, looking as she did so at the house, and peering into the hall through the open door. then she approached the children and in a voice she tried in vain to make soft, she asked what they were doing, and who they were. little rika, who could say but few words, sat and stared at her with a frown. elinor answered politely. the woman studied them carefully. elinor was a child whose beauty was always remarked wherever she went, and the little rika was equally lovely. they had been used to kindness and attention from everyone, so when the woman took out a queer little box, and offered them each a funny little black candy, they accepted them quite as a matter of course. then she drew back, and the children turned to their dolls again. but only for a moment. then the head of golden curls and the long, black ringlets drooped and the drugged children were asleep. the woman shook two big sacks out from beneath her dress, and as coolly and as cruelly as though she was filling them with straw, she shoved a child in either bag, crossed to the curb with her heavy burden, and sat down to wait. when her two accomplices joined her, they went rapidly to the hovel where warren had tracked them later, and releasing the half smothered and unconscious children, they laid them down on a pile of rags, and sat looking at them, while they ate their evening portion of black bread and cold fish. there was a great discussion. the larger man, michael, was in favor of offering the children for a ransom. the others would not consider it at all. "remember," said martha, the woman, "there is much danger in collecting such fees. rather will i prepare these little ladies for the trade of beggars. so beautiful are they that i can go through every capital in europe, if so europe still stands." "have it your own way," said the smaller man, patro by name. "i always do," she said simply. then she studied the sleeping forms again. "i think it will be well, some time soon, to twist the legs of the small one," she said. "she would make a sweet cripple." "no!" said michael. "you may not do so. i will not have it." the woman laughed. "said i not that i have my own way?" she asked. "all right, martha, you do," said patro, "but believe me, it is better to take the greatest care of those little ones. think what dancers they may make some day. there is a fortune in those little feet, i'll be bound. be careful of them, watch them, and perhaps some day they may be prancing on the opera stage at st. petersburg, or even here in warsaw." the woman sat thinking for a little. "perhaps you are right," she said. "people are dance-mad these times. they are pretty enough to climb to any heights." patro laughed. "why laugh?" said martha angrily. "nothing, nothing, dear martha, only that it is funny to think you are taking these children down from the heights where they belong so that they may climb back for your pleasure." the woman's brow grew black. she reached out a heavy foot, and pushed elinor away from her. "not for thy pleasure," she said sneeringly. "no, patro, no! they are to pay me over and over for my life. drop for drop, pain for pain, i will take from them all i have myself suffered. they shall sleep cold, because so i slept all my childhood. they shall hunger because i did so. they shall beg in the streets while i listen. ah!" she shook her fists above her head, "i have hated all the world, and now these shall pay me!" patro shrugged his shoulders. "as you will," he said. "they are coming to life again, however. i would advise you to feed them enough to keep beauty in their faces and grace in their limbs, if you indeed wish to use them for food and light and fire." "that is sound sense, patro," she answered, and when the children came dizzily to consciousness again, she treated them with almost a rough kindness. but when they cried, she beat them, taking pains to let the blows fall where they would not leave visible scars or bruises. so passed the dragging hours, until warren, unconscious and bleeding, was flung down at elinor's side. "there!" said michael. "you will spy, will you? well, we have you now. and when next you walk the streets, if so you do, you will have cause to remember michael paovla and his friends." patro frowned. "you are too handy with names," he said. "trust only a dead dog." "leave that to me," said michael with a dark frown. "you," he said to ivan, "you see this gun? we'll not bind you, but if you stir toward the door, or make a move to free yourself, you are lost. i will shoot you down." "we only want the children," said ivan boldly. "give them to us, and we will go away, and you will not be harmed." the three set up a shout of laughter. "thanks, thanks!" said michael when he could speak, but martha said angrily, "what! give up my fire and light and food? not much!" "suppose i pay you," said ivan, "i will reward you well." again a shout went up. "a million thanks," said the woman. "what will you give--a dozen dried fishes?" "you don't know me," scowled ivan proudly. "i am the son of your prince, ivan the brilliant. beware how you treat me and these friends of mine." "the boy will kill me!" cried the woman, leaning back and wiping the tears of mirth from her leathery cheeks. "go on, go on, my prince. and will you not ask us to the palace some day soon? we would like to see you at your own home." "give us the children and set us free, and you may come," said ivan after a pause. "no; you are too amusing," said the woman. "rather we will take you with us, or else leave you safely locked here where no one shall disturb you." ivan looked at the worn and haggard children and the form of warren now stirring slightly, then he handed the great ruby to michael. "take, this and let us go," he pleaded. the man looked wonderingly at the flashing stone. "so you too help yourself in these war times?" he said sneeringly. "what else do you carry, little rat?" he ran a practiced, light fingered hand over ivan, searching for more jewels, but of course found none. night seemed to come all at once in the dark and partly underground room. warren, untended, came slowly back to consciousness, and lay where he had fallen in a sort of doze. little elinor crept to him and, laying her head on his shoulder, went to sleep. presently martha began to yawn, and the men nodded where they sprawled on the benches. the woman drew out an armful of rags, and prepared for the night by wrapping another shawl around her shoulders. the men rose after a whispered consultation, and taking ivan to the furthest and darkest corner, tied him securely to a ring in the wall. his bonds were loose enough to permit him to lie down on the hard earth and stone floor, but he sat with his back against the wall, wide awake, every nerve tense and quivering. twice michael came and looked at him in the light of a torch from the fire, and retreated muttering. ivan decided to pretend sleep. the third time michael gave a grunt of satisfaction. he went back to the fire and beckoned the others from their pallets. "he is dead asleep," he said in a low whisper. "we must make our plans." "good!" said the woman. "what do you want to do about it?" she too whispered in a low tone and it struck ivan that for some strange reason he was listening to a conversation spoken in tones that ordinarily could not be heard three feet away from the speakers. he listened intently. every syllable was clear and distinct. owing to some peculiar formation of the vaulted ceiling, the sounds were brought to him, forty feet from the speakers, as accurately as though spoken into a telephone. ivan's courage rose once more. he heard the man michael light his pipe. "i don't know," he said. "of course not!" sneered the woman. "you never do! i suppose you don't want to kill them?" "what's the use?" asked the man. "why blacken our souls further than we must?" "i'll tell you why," said martha suddenly. her whisper cut like a knife. "i'll tell you. because i fear them. boys as they are, i fear them! there is a spirit in the eyes of the one who calls himself ivan that will never die until death blinds them. the little rat! the smart little rat! calling himself a prince! my, i wish i had had the training of him. well, whoever he is, he is a pole, and he will hurt us yet. i feel it. i can feel it, anyway, that harm will come to us through those boys. i warn you, michael. patro, i warn you. once, twice, thrice! you know i never fail." there was a silence, and ivan heard patro catch his breath sharply. "well, what would you?" he said finally. there was a note of triumph in the woman's voice when she spoke. "tomorrow night," she said, "we will leave them here, tied to the table. i will leave food on the table for them, just enough for one meal. i have still my little friends in the pill box on the chimney ledge. they are as strong as ever. we will not stay to see whether they eat or not. but i think they will, because i will see to it that they do not taste much food tomorrow. we will lock the door. i will go down to prague. they say it is but little harmed, and i have a sister there. i will give the smaller child to her. i have a fancy for the light one myself, and they are too unlike to pass off for sisters." there was a long pause. then, "have it as you like," said michael. "of course, the boys will bother a good deal, if they go free." "certainly they would," said martha. "we would never know where they would crop up, especially that ivan one." "suppose they do not eat?" asked patro. "eat, eat!" cried martha. "well, know you nothing of boys! and they will suspect nothing. you are brutes, brutes, remember, and i so kind and so sorry," she laughed. "they will believe all i say," she added. michael nodded. "then it is settled," he said. in the united states, every possible precaution is taken to protect children from harm. laws are made especially for their safety; societies exist in every town and city to look after them. they go unharmed through the streets. noble men and women give their lives to visiting the poorest districts and making easier the lot of the unfortunate ones they find there. special cases are frequently written up in the papers, and help found for them in that way. in factories, shops, stores, asylums, in the streets, in the slums, every possible, effort is made to make the lot of children an easier and happier one. in a great number of the european countries, the case is different. there are no laws, for instance, governing the age at which a child shall be put to work. in fact, in order to keep body and soul together, children labor from the time they are babies. they do the work of farm animals when their little hands can scarcely grasp the implements of toil. there are many, oh, so many of them; and they are held cheaply. poorly clothed, poorly fed, they take kindly to theft, as a means of getting the necessities of their bare, miserable little lives. once upon a time, there was a dark and dreadful age when making cripples and dwarfs was a regular trade. children were taken (nearly always stolen ones) and their limbs twisted, or their faces distorted, in order to gain sympathy from the passersby, of whom they were taught to beg. that frightful time is long past; but the trades of begging and thieving are still taught. and to criminals like those in whose hands the children had fallen, life, and child life especially, was too cheap and of too little account to matter much. they did not in the least mind the contemplation of a crime as horrible as the one they had just decided on. they were afraid of the bright, alert scouts who had fallen into their clutches, and to them there was but one way to treat the matter--the shackles and the poisoned food. chapter vi to the rescue after this there was silence. the men slept with snores and grunts an they moved uneasily on their hard beds, and ivan slept only at intervals. he was anxious to know whether the conversation had been heard by warren, but did not dare to communicate with him in any way, although he could hear an occasional sigh as though his friend was suffering pain. warren was indeed feeling badly from the blow that had nearly broken his skull. fortunately the weapon, a piece of iron shod wood, had glanced and so saved his life. but his head ached worse than he had thought a head could ache; and when he finally came out of the daze of the blow, he slept only in a sort of stupor. he had not heard the conversation that had been listened to so eagerly by ivan, and so was at least saved that anxiety. day came, and to ivan, who was prepared, there were signs of departure. warren, who still lay silent on his pallet of rags, did not seem to see anything. he did not eat, but accepted a cup of' water from the woman's hand. elinor clung to him, and the woman did not object. ivan was afraid to speak to any of them. the day dragged away, and finally (it seemed years) the room grew so dark that ivan knew that night must be approaching. soon he would know their fate. it was uncertain, because he knew that at any time in the day they might have decided not to leave their death to the poisoned food, but to shoot them to death before leaving the place. however, martha commenced the preparation of the meal that was meant for supper, and ivan noticed that she had made more than usual. a crust of dry bread and a cup of water was given to warren, and the same fare thrown on the floor beside ivan, who did not eat it and watched anxiously to see if warren would taste his. but the boy shook his head. "never mind," said the woman, slyly looking over to the door where the men were bundling some ragged garments in a big square of cloth. "never mind. i am sorry for you, my poor boy. soon those brutes will take us away, but i will leave one good meal for you. i promise you that if they beat me for it you shall be decently fed for once. and i am a good cook; you shall see!" ivan shivered. then as the woman turned to the fire and rattled the pans, he said sharply in english: "warren, do not eat!" the three turned threateningly as he spoke, but as he made no effort to continue the speech in what was to them an unknown tongue, they once more went about their tasks. as they became interested in the tasks they were doing, ivan spoke again. "warren?" he said. warren heard. "yes!" "don't try to keep the girls if they start to take them," he said as rapidly as he could talk. "there they go again!" said the woman "what are they up to, do you think?" michael went over to warren. "do you want your head broken again?" he scowled. "you will get it. and you, too!" he turned to ivan, and shouted threateningly across the room. "it will be your turn if i hear you speak again." ivan, who had said all he wanted to, nodded and was silent. soon michael and patro picked ivan up and carried him to the massive bench that stood at one side of the table, and seating him there, tied his legs in a clever fashion so that he was unable to reach the bonds, he was so wedged between the bench and table. the place must once have been a public wine room, and what furniture there was of the heaviest sort. warren they lifted and tied in the same manner on the opposite side of the great table. "there!" said the woman martha. "now you can see each other, and talk as long as you like." she looked at the men and laughed. "where are you going?" said ivan in polish. "well," said the woman, "i don't mind telling you in the least." "don't do it!" warned patro. "why not? they are safe," said the woman. "won't your bonds hold as long as necessary? you see," she said, turning to warren, "it will be a day or two perhaps before your friends find you. and even then i don't believe you will tell my plans. it will be too late. we are going to tame these nice little girls, and make beggars of them. something useful, you see, instead of letting them grow up in idleness as they would if they stayed with you. we will go to prague from here and i will give the little one to my sister. then we will get out of this accursed country soon as we can, and get away where money comes easy to the poor war refugees. what do you think of that?" she leered close to the boy's face. everything was ready. the food, poisoned as ivan knew it to be, stood temptingly between them, on the table. it was not an unpleasing meal. to warren, who had not tasted solid food for two days, everything looked inviting. ivan felt himself shaking with excitement. all was ready. the men unbarred the door, and the woman with a last sneering jest at the boys, picked up little rika, while michael lifted elinor. the child screamed. "warren, don't let them take me away! don't let them take me!" she cried over and over. "be a good girl! we will come for you very soon," said ivan swiftly, as she paused for breath. the child screamed again, and michael wound a thick muffler across her face. the heavy door closed with a clash. the boys heard a faint cry, and then the great key turned in the lock. they looked at each other. "what does it all mean?" said warren. he struggled furiously to release his feet, but gave up to sit staring at ivan. "what does it all mean?" "well, for one thing," said ivan, "that food is poisoned." he proceeded to recount to warren, the strange circumstance of the whispered conversation which he had so clearly overheard. "it has saved our lives," said warren solemnly. "i am starved and would have eaten this stuff sure as nails. gee, what an escape! let us work out of these ropes and get out of here. perhaps, we can get those cutthroats before they got away from the city." for some moments the boys both wiggled and twisted to free themselves. it was in vain. so closely were they wedged between the benches and table, and so cleverly were their feet tied with rope and pieces of board to wedge them, that it was absolutely an impossibility to release themselves. all through the night they sat there, at intervals renewing their efforts to get free, and with despair growing in their hearts. they began to realize the seriousness of the situation. when warren's watch told them that morning had come, they found themselves looking wistfully at the food. its scent was in their famished nostrils. warren drew a piece of fish toward him. "i wonder if it is all poisoned," he said. with a cry ivan reached out and swept the food from the table. "there!" he exclaimed, "i found myself wondering the same thing. if we die, we die--but not that way, my warren. we will be free yet. ivanovich does not die today." but warren, weakened from, his hurts, laid his head down on his arms with a groan. ivan looked at him pityingly. the loss of his little sister had almost crushed warren. he who was always the leading spirit, quick and resourceful, was for the moment crushed. ivan did not speak. he respected the grief of his friend. he knew that soon he would be himself again, planning for success. late that same afternoon three boy scouts sauntered down the dark and twisted alley leading to the river. the section of the city was strange to them, and it was now so wrecked by the recent bombardment that the enemy themselves shunned it. the poor creatures that had once found lodging in those dark holes of want and famine had all fled at the first gunshot; and the boys idled here and there, looking at the marks of the shots, and picking up many a queer memento of the battle. warsaw had fallen; but the spirit of boys is the same all the world over. in their imaginations, even while the smoke of battle still hung over the city, they had planned other and victorious battles. they had already saved warsaw for a wonderful golden future. as they climbed around, one of them pointed to the broken plaster on the ground. "see!" he said. "a scout! two of them have been here. there are the marks of the nails in their scout shoes." the other boys looked. sure enough they saw distinctly the marks of the well known scout shoes, sold even in distant warsaw. "let's follow them up," said another boy, leading the way. it was something to do and they bent to the chase like young hounds on a fresh fox trail. rather to their disappointment, the tracks did not double or disappear here and there. they led directly down the street. as they followed, a faint cry sounded. the boys stopped, startled. "what's that?" whispered one. the cry was repeated. "someone in trouble," cried the first boy, hurrying forward. the boy behind took a quick step, and caught him by the arm. "stop!" he whispered. "don't go on! that's not a human voice." frozen in attitudes of astonishment, the boys stood listening with all their might. "pshaw!" said the tall boy, thaddeus, in his rapid polish. "what think you would cry like that--spirits?" he laughed. "it might be," said the second lad doggedly. "there are spirits, of course; and when souls are set free in the violence of war they say they ever return to haunt the scene of their passing." "well, nobody has passed here," said thaddeus, "alive or dead. let's go on!" "wait just a minute," said the second boy. "i tell you there is evil somewhere about here!" "the street is dark and crooked enough to hold almost anything," said thaddeus. "i am not surprised now that my father always ordered me to keep away from these streets leading to the river. they say many and many a poor wretch has been bundled down there and pushed off into the vistula. she tells no tales, that river." the cry was repeated. it was faint, and there was a note of pain or terror in it that chilled the listeners. very faint and far away it was too. "i'm going back," said the second boy. "go!" said thaddeus scornfully, "go and give up your scout badge, and tell the chapter that while the sons of warsaw were not afraid to meet a bloody death, you are not one of them because you think the spirits are abroad in the town." the boy blushed. "come!" said thaddeus. "i know you don't mean it. there is someone in trouble. let us find them quickly." following the tracks and listening every few steps for the voices, the boys reached the place where warren and ivan were imprisoned. they were nearly exhausted from the cramped positions and the long fast. they had called until their throats were parched, and their voices croaked and wheezed. but as they heard the boys familiar and welcome voices sound faintly through the heavy door, new energy thrilled then and they lifted their voices together in a shout that echoed in the vaulted room. it was answered. so thick and close fitting was the door that they could not make the listeners outside understand anything but the word "help!" which, spoken in any language, is certain to bring response. the boys outside shouted assurances which were, also not understood, but the sound of friendly voices put now life into warren and ivan every moment. the great locked door was baffling; but there was plenty of heavy timbers around, and finding a sort of battering ram was a moment's work. the three went to work with a will. blow after blow fell on the heavy door. it did not yield an inch. the lock also held firm, but the new casing was built in old and rotted wood. it gave, and with a dusty splintering the door toppled in, and the boys, springing over without a moment's hesitation, entered. they hurried to the exhausted prisoners and cut the ropes and freed them. both boys were so numb that it was some time before the scouts could rub feeling into the cramped legs and feet. warren pointed to the floor where the pieces of food were scattered. three dead rats lay near. "you were right, ivan," he said with a great shudder. "what is it?" said the scout who was rubbing him. "poison," said warren. "meant for us." a little at a time he told the newcomers the adventures of the past long hours. after the blow on the head warren had lain unconscious for so long, and when he finally roused the darkness and dungeon-like appearance of the room so perplexed him, that he thought himself delirious. he was very dizzy, and tried to sleep, feeling that if he could lose himself, he would wake and find the whole thing a bad dream. even when his sister came and caressed him, he did not change his mind. but finally full consciousness came, with all the suffering of his hurts, as well as the dreadful anxiety about elinor and rika and the seeming hopelessness of escape. the boys all shook their heads when ivan broke in to tell how he had given up the great ruby, only to be thought a thief. they listened breathlessly when he told of the strange whisper that came so clearly to his ears, and when they reached the account of the poison they scarcely breathed. "you couldn't see the rats, could you?" warren asked ivan. "no!" said ivan. "well," said warren, "it queered me so i thought i wouldn't say anything about it. after you threw the food off the table, i looked down and presently something slipped out of the shadow. it was the biggest rat you ever saw. much bigger than any of those. he walked around bold as anything, and i began to think what a big fellow like that could do if a fellow got down and out. well, it made me cold. then he went off, and i think he told a lot of the others that there was a lot of good eats on the floor, and half a dozen of them came along, and went after that meat and stuff. and when they ate it, one by one they just went staggering around for a little as though they didn't know what ailed them, and then they fell down, and i never hope to see such agony. it was back of you, ivan, and i thought there was no use telling you. but it is all over now, for the rats and for us too; and we can be glad you fellows found us. as soon as we can walk," he ended, "we must take this thing to headquarters. we know where to look for the girls, and they must help." the largest scout laughed. "you don't know what you are talking about," he said. "you can't get help from anyone. our people, the people of warsaw, are so scattered, that it is the same as though they did not exist. as for the others, the enemy, they laugh. i know of one lady who lost a child--but there is no use to talk. whatever is done--we will have to do ourselves." "we will go down ourselves, now we know where to look, and we will take the children. we are strong, if it comes to a fight; we can still get them away. we ourselves will rescue the children." he laughed and helped warren to his feet. "we are scouts," he said. "it is a good thing we are," said another boy, busy rubbing ivan who lay with set teeth, stifling the pain of returning circulation in his tortured ankles. "you did a wonderful thing, warren," he continued, addressing the boy he named, "when you started the boy scout movement over here. well i remember the day i told my people about it. they were amused. they called it one of the crazy plans of the americans. they were afraid to have me join. they were afraid that i would get into trouble with the government. everything is so strictly watched. but they were so glad to have me have a good chance to learn the american language, that they would not quite forbid me. i thought i never would learn. sometimes i thought i knew it well; and there would appear in your speech some strange words that you could not seem to translate to us, and you called it all with one word, 'slang!' you said you could not get along without it. and it was and is the most difficult part of all the noble language. yet now that i can read your native language, i never seem able to find this slang you talk in the books or magazines. i have kept a careful list of all i have heard you say, and i am teaching it to my mother and to my sister who was to have been presented at court, had not this war come up. it would be fine for them to be able to talk this slang to your ambassador." he stopped speaking polish, and broke into lame and halting english. "do you get me, lissee!" he asked. warren groaned. "for the love of mike!" he said. "no, i don't mean that! for pete's sake--" he groaned again. "i don't know what i mean," he said, "but i do get you. mikelovo and you don't want to teach your precious family any more gems." he hastily sought an excuse. "you see only men and boys talk it as a general thing. better teach the women stuff out of the books." "all right," said the earnest student of the american language, "but in all other things the boy scouts are all right for my family." "when the books and other things came from your country, i showed them to my father with trembling; but he approved. and now we will do all the great things, we ourselves, that our poor country cannot do. we will help your good father, and rescue the little children." "one thing i have noticed," said the first boy. "there are no boys around the streets giving any help to the hurt or lost or troubled except the boy scouts. when warsaw rises again, there will be a great order here, and all the boys in the city shall have a chance to prepare for it." "gee whiz, yes," said the student of slang, solemnly, "we will get 'em all in line." chapter vii the carved panel we will leave the boy scouts puzzling over the tremendous problem of getting in touch with headquarters and releasing professor morris and the others, while we visit a magnificent home far up in the residential part of the city, where the beautiful parks, wide streets and fine buildings all told of great wealth. many of the places lay in ruins, but here and there arose a dazzling white marble building that had happily escaped the destruction of the iron rain that had poured over the ill-fated city. many of these were occupied by the officers and men of the invading army. destruction of the worst sort went with them, and the unhappy owners had, whenever possible, secreted the most valuable of their belongings. pictures, jewels, silver, furs and even rugs were hidden in secret vaults or buried in gardens and cellars. for the people of warsaw, as well as their fair city, were ruined, although sooner or later the scraps saved could be converted into money. rich and poor fared alike; for the present, at least, everyone needed food and safe shelter. in the dining-room of one of the finest places saved from the destroying shells sat a group of officers. they were big, blonde men, and they talked roughly and rapidly in their native german. it was plain to see that they were quarreling. one of them, rising from the great carved chair in which he had been lounging, kicked it from his path and walked nervously up and down the room. he was scowling ferociously while with his saber point he jabbed little holes in the russian leather covering the back of the chair opposite him. he shook his head as the man who was walking up and down neared his chair. "i tell you, otto, you can't do it," he said. "you can't burry things so. those people are americans. you can't execute that old man on a bare suspicion. what if his notes are a code? we have them, at all events; and we have him; and we must wait until the general returns." "that's not my idea at all!" scowled the other man. "this is war. i am in command, my friend, and if i think i have a spy, and see that it is my duty to stand this man up against a wall, then what? bang! bang! it is all over. what can be said?" "what is your idea exactly?" asked the man at the table. "what is the use of hurrying things so? it sounds like murder to me. i think the old man is perfectly harmless. he is probably just what he claims, a professor in one of the american universities. i've heard of this princeton. it is a place of some size and standing." "that is just it, gustav!" cried the other. "that is one reason for suspecting him. he is too glib with his princeton. himmel! did you ever hear a man talk so fast and so much and use such words? i can speak as good english as any man my age, but there were words, dozens of them, that i had never dreamed of." "is that the real reason why you are going to shoot him as a spy?" asked gustav, coming back to the main point once more. "i don't suppose i shall shoot him at all," answered otto grimly. "i want to, that's all, but i can't do it unless i have sufficient cause, no matter how much i would like to remove him. he is in the way." gustav stared, and laid down his saber. "i see!" he said, nodding his head slowly. "the girl?" "yes! the girl!" said otto. he frowned and continued to walk up and down, while the other laughed. "what would you?" he demanded. "you would get yourself into all sorts of trouble. there is no kidnapping of young women in this campaign, remember!" "i would like to marry her," said otto coolly. "she is so pretty and sweet." "so are the german girls," declared gustav, loyally. "what a romantic episode!" sighed otto, rolling his eyes in a sentimental manner. "i discover this beautiful american here in warsaw, in the heart of the war; i love her; i marry her. it is wonderful!" "it certainly is," said gustav. "wonderful indeed! and in order to bring her to a proper idea of your goodness and charm, you shoot her father and brother-do you shoot her brother, by the way?" otto scowled. "you are coarse, my friend," he said. "i do not shoot anyone. germany merely destroys a spy. as for the brother, he is small, i think he disappears." "does the german army cause that too?" asked gustav. "don't jest," said otto. "i am in earnest." "in truth, so am i!" answered gustav. "you are crazy, just plain crazy. the man is no more a spy than i am, i'll be bound!" otto shrugged his broad shoulders. "you don't know whereof you speak," he said. "you have not heard him talk, have you?" "no, i'll grant that," gustav acknowledged. "have him brought in and let me hear him." "very well," said otto, "but speak english to him. his german is so bad that he ought to be shot for that if for nothing else." he turned and summoned an orderly. the two men sat in silence. at a nearby table two lieutenants were busy writing. they did not speak but looked eagerly as the door opened, and the prisoners entered. the lieutenants shifted in their chairs and smiled at each other in anticipation. gustav caught their fleeting grins and dismissed them from the room with a curt command, then turned his attention to the group standing just within the door. professor morris stood with a protecting arm around each of his children. he looked broken and old, and wore the air of a man who has been rudely wakened from a secure and comfortable sleep to view some unimagined horror. the war, the bombardment and the fall of warsaw, had at last become something more than a spectacle to be transferred to the pages of his book. it was a frightful fact, a living reality in which men died by thousands, and little children perished, where women's hearts broke with their anguish and despair. he found that war recognizes but few laws, and even fewer obligations. it seemed that his standing as a man of learning, his claim as a citizen of the united states, availed him nothing. standing there, a prisoner, with a helpless child on either side, the ivy-covered walls of his beloved princeton seemed far away indeed. as he closed his tired eyes for an instant he could see a clear and lovely picture of the velvet green campus and the great iron gates opening on the smooth and level streets shaded by lofty trees. he heard the chimes, the laughter of happy young fellows passing to and fro. there were rows and rows of peaceful homes, stately mansions and simple cottages. on level, perfectly kept tennis courts, here and there, men and girls all in white played tennis. he saw his friends-- but opening his weary eyes, he saw a gorgeous, tumbled room whose princely draperies were torn and full of saber cuts, a sideboard where priceless glass had been a target for the rough play by rougher men. before him were the two hard, blonde german faces, and there he stood, a prisoner, with his two children clinging to him. warren and elinor were gone, he knew not where. captain handel stood motionless, but captain schmitt rose civilly and bowed when he saw evelyn. he could not help it. the girl was so noble, so lovely, and hid her fright so gallantly, that he was compelled to pay her the slight courtesy that he did. "captain handel tells me that this notebook is yours, professor morris," gustav commenced in almost perfect english. "it is," said the professor. he eyed it hungrily, and reached a hand out without thinking what he did. gustav drew the book back. "it has a suspicious look," he said. "so many plans and measurements and specifications. will you not explain?" the professor reddened. he shut his mouth stubbornly. "those are private notes," he said. "i was sent over here to make what discoveries i could along certain lines." "what, did i tell you, gustav?" broke in otto, turning to his brother officer and speaking in a low tone. "there is the whole thing! he was a spy sent to make discoveries along 'certain lines.' he confesses that. he has succeeded in doing so. the book tells us that." "wait, wait!" begged gustav. "professor morris, do you understand that you are here facing a most serious charge?" "it is a silly, trumped up charge," declared the professor, irritably. "silly trumped up charge! i absolutely will not answer your questions. wait until you hear from the american consul." "we won't hear from him," said gustav gently. "you are in our hands, bearing suspicious documents, and you refuse to answer our questions. do you realize the seriousness of this affair?" "certainly not!" declared the professor, "and let me tell you, my young friend, i shall write this thing up in the papers when i return to america. i shall make public your personal attitude in the matter. at the present all i demand is release and that manuscript on the table beside you. also my notebook." he bowed slightly and stood waiting as though he fully expected the officers to do his bidding, as indeed he did. "will you explain your notes?" asked gustav quietly. otto was nervously biting his small moustache, his eyes fixed on evelyn's lovely face. "no! no!" cried the professor loudly, "a thousand times no! i refuse to share with you the results of my researches. what, and have you get the credit of all my labor? never!" he clenched his hands. "father--" began evelyn pleadingly. "be silent, evelyn!" commanded her father sternly. "i know what i am about! i refuse to say anything, whatever happens." "you had better think this over, professor," said gustav. "we will leave you here alone for half an hour. talk it over with your children and decide if you wish to give up your life for the sake of these notes. explain them to us, and we will promise you safe conduct out of the country. the girl and boy will have to remain as guarantee of your good faith. they will not be harmed. in case you will not do as we suggest--" he tapped his saber, and started to the door. otto spoke abruptly. "the windows are barred," he said. "two men guard the door. you cannot escape. decide!" he looked longingly at evelyn and followed gustav from the room. the heavy door shut silently behind them but not before they had a glimpse of the two soldiers standing at attention in the hallway. while they stood looking at it, it opened and otto entered, closing it after him. "i may as well tell you," he said. "you will shoot as a spy if you do not explain your charts and figures and leave the country." then as though he could not conceal his triumph, he added, "in any case, you know your daughter remains here." "remains here?" cried the professor. "how is that? what do you mean?" otto shrugged his shoulders. "i like her," he said coolly. "i might marry her. you are very lovely," he added, turning his bold, cold eyes on evelyn. she hid her face against her father's shoulder. otto laughed. jack sprang at him with a shrill cry. the big man caught the boy, and flung him contemptuously to the floor. "be careful, little sparrow!" he said. "a second time and i will crush you! i'm going now," he said, turning to the professor. "in half an hour we will come and you will tell us which you prefer--death or safe conduct." he bowed. "good-bye for a little, mees evelyn, he said and closed the door behind him." evelyn threw herself on her father's shoulder and burst into sobs. "oh, father, father, what shall we do?" she cried. the professor was silent, then he said, "well, my dear, i actually believe that young man meant what he said." "of course he did!" sobbed evelyn. "in that ease," said the professor firmly, "i would as lief be dead as to have the work of a lifetime destroyed by those rascals." he hastened to the table and took up the portfolio enclosing his book. "it's all here," he said after a glance. "but father, whatever they do to you, they are going to keep me here. what will i do? what will i do?" she ran to the windows and looked out. it was just as they had been told. the casements were heavily barred and there was but one door, the one through which the officers had passed. the walls were paneled half way up with old oak. the room was solid as a dungeon. there was not a chance for escape. in a few minutes the soldiers would return and tear her father from her. her father was speaking. she listened. "all here," he said, "every page! that is fortunate indeed." he looked searchingly at evelyn. "i have a plan, my," he said. "this is a very dreadful affair, but on second thought a scheme occurs to me. i will explain somewhat of my notes, but not enough so they could amplify them. then, with my safe conduct, i will go over to germany, explain the whole affair, and demand your release. you will doubtless be absolutely safe here, absolutely safe. this young handel seems rather a rattle-brained youth, but captain schmitt looked conservative and sane. i will place you in his charge. john is with you, and you will be perfectly safe, i am positive." evelyn grew deathly pale. she kissed her father's cheek, then listlessly approached the table. a revolver was lying there. "yes, i know that i will be safe," she said firmly. she took the weapon in her hand and looked up. as she raised her eyes, she looked straight into the face of a girl about her own age, who stood motionless against the wall, one hand outstretched its though to call her. evelyn stared in unbelief. an instant before they had been alone in the room! were her senses leaving her? she looked at her father and brother. they, too, were staring, speechless and wild-eyed. so she did not imagine the graceful figure and lovely face with its dark troubled eyes. the stranger pressed a finger on her lips in a gesture of silence, then she beckoned, and as they approached, tiptoeing over the thick rug, she turned and pressed a finger on a carved rosette in the oak panel. without a sound it slid open, and they found themselves in a narrow, stone passage. once more the strange girl motioned for silence. then she slid an iron grating across the secret door through which they had come, and turning ran lightly down the passage. without a moment's hesitation, evelyn started after, her hand still clasping the revolver which she had taken from the table. the professor, clutching his recovered manuscript, followed, while jack brought up the rear. as they turned a corner, a faint shout reached them. the officers had returned to the empty room! the way was long, with many sharp turns. it seemed to be a space between rooms. once or twice shouts and laughter were faintly heard, as they seemed to pass near a room full of soldiers. it was dark. the girl ahead felt in her pocket, and brought out a tiny flashlight. they came finally to a steep flight of stairs. now for the first time the girl spoke. in a cautious whisper she said, "be careful!" and holding the flash behind her for their guidance, went swiftly and lightly down, with the manner of one who is familiar with every inch of the way. the stairs were wide and shallow. there were a great many of them and they seemed to go down a long way. evelyn wondered if the place was built on a hillside, making it a long way to the underground regions she suspected beyond or below. she afterwards found out that this was correct. a door barred with iron was at the foot of the stairs. indeed, they ended right against it. the girl pushed the door open, and when they had entered, closed it behind them and dropped a massive bar across it. they were in a large, stone chamber, empty save for a few scraps of furniture. their guide swiftly crossed the room and opened another forbidding looking door. the second room was like the first, but was filled with casks and huge barrels. beyond this again they entered a narrow passage, so very narrow that their garments brushed the walls at either side. the stones underfoot were rough and uneven. professor morris walked carefully, picking his steps by the aid of the flashlight. evelyn and jack, more careless, stumbled frequently, but still the girl, light as a feather, flitted on, swift and sure footed. once more the flash revealed a wall ahead. as she approached it the girl turned and smiled. evelyn stared. there was no sign of any opening in the rough wall and the great stones seemed fast in their cement, but the girl, stooping, pressed a corner of one of the paving stones. to their amazement it slid from its place, revealing another very narrow flight of steps. the girl descended, and when they were all down, pressed another spring, and the stone slid in place. another flight of steps exactly like the ones they had just descended rose against the flooring; and when the girl had led the way, they one by one stepped into a large and brightly lighted room. professor morris blinked; jack turned red; evelyn gasped with surprise. chapter viii the secret chamber it was a vast apartment of stone, but the rugged walls were nearly covered with the most rare and beautiful hangings--curtains, tapestries and strange oriental rugs. numerous paintings apparently of great value also hung about, or stood on the floor leaning against the wall. the stone floor was deep with rugs and fine furs. a number of couches, wide and comfortable, were set here and there, and one corner of the room was hidden by a great black and gold screen. from this corner came the comforting odor of coffee. professor morris sniffed it with joy. in the center of the ceiling hung a simple drop light of great power illuminating the place with almost the glare of sunlight. beneath the light stood a large table littered with magazines, papers and articles of value. beside it, in a deep easy chair, sat a woman. she was about forty years of age and beautiful. her garments were very rich, and she sat listlessly leaning her head on her hand for she had been weeping. at her side, evidently bent on comforting her mistress, knelt a woman in the costume of a servant. a footman in livery stood at attention behind her chair. even in that strange, sunless, underground place, everything in sight, confused though it was, gave evidence of immense wealth and luxury. after the dark, blank, twisted passages, and the horrors so lately escaped in the room above them, the scene seemed unreal enough to be a dream. as they appeared through the small square in the floor and stood in a hesitating group the lady in the easy chair leaned forward and looked at them earnestly. their guide, the young girl, pressed the spring that replaced the flagstone, and as soon as she was sure that it was adjusted, ran eagerly across the wide space and knelt at the lady's knee. she spoke rapidly and excitedly in polish. evelyn could catch a word occasionally. then the lady rose and advanced with a graceful gesture of welcome. "you are indeed welcome," she said easily in english. "i cannot be thankful enough that my daughter overheard those brutal soldiers and was able to rescue you. come and tell me about it." professor morris bowed low over the hand extended him. then leading the way, the lady returned to the table where the footman drew chairs for the group. professor morris told his story of the arrest and imprisonment and the result of the conference in the dining-room. the lady shuddered. "you are safe now, at least," she assured him when the story was finished. "and we are happy to have you with us. it is a comfort to have someone with whom to share one's sorrows. one has no happiness to share now." she smiled sadly. "i am the princess olga nicholani; with my husband and children i have lived here all my life. the prince is with his troops, living or dead i know not. our son is with him. when the war separated us i, modjeska here and my baby girl, with a few of our old servants, remained in warsaw. "we were perfectly safe until the bombardment of the city commenced. then we decided to escape, if possible. we clothed ourselves plainly, and under cover of darkness crept from the house the first night. all lights were out, and we reached the corner safely. we had planned to go down to the river front, where we had a motor boat, in which we planned to escape. but just as we turned into the river street, we were met by a maddened crowd of citizens all rushing to safety. they met us like a great wave. modjeska and the servants were crushed against a building, but i was thrown down and for a moment stunned. when the crowd had passed, my people assisted me to consciousness, but oh, my heart--my heart! how can i tell?" she bid her face in her hands and shuddered. modjeska clasped her in other in her arms, murmuring loving words of comfort. in a moment the princess looked up. "you can imagine our agony, professor morris, when we found that our baby was gone. she had been torn from me in the crowd. we could not find her. we searched all night. then they brought me home here by a secret passage, and, the men hastened to bring down everything movable of value or comfort. we have plenty of light because we have our own electric light system, and this building was not struck by shell or bomb. "the secret passage through which modjeska brought you was revealed to me by my husband, the prince. his father had taught him the way, and not long before the war we carefully taught our two elder children the secret springs and all the turnings. i do not know why modjeska happened to venture along those dark passages to the dining-room." "i don't know either, mother," said modjeska, shyly. "i had a strange feeling that i had to go. something seemed to drag me there." "did you hear the conversation?" asked professor morris. "part of it," answered modjeska. "enough to tell me that something terrible was going on. i was wild with fright. i did not know how i could help you until i heard that dreadful man say that he and the other officer would go out for half an hour. and mother, he told them they could not escape, because the windows were barred, and the door guarded. then at first, when i pressed the spring, the panel would not open. something had rusted. i worked and worked before it slid, back." "a moment later would have been too late," said the professor, shaking his head. "this room is absolutely safe," said the princess. "there are seven or eight of these chambers, about fifty feet from the house, under the garden. so compose yourselves and rest. i cannot leave--half the city is searching for my baby--i can do nothing but sit here in agony and pray for her return. i know she is dead; i almost pray that she is, but how can i ever rest until i know?" she bent her head and sobbed. professor morris cleared his throat. "i do not doubt that the infant is safe, madame. no one would deliberately molest a helpless baby." "she wasn't really a baby," said modjeska. "mother calls her that because she was so tiny. she could walk, and talk a little too." "don't say was!" cried the princess. "don't talk as if she was dead!" "no, mother darling, no!" soothed the girl. "how old is she?" asked evelyn. the princess again controlled herself. "rika-" she had no chance to continue-- "rika?" cried professor morris, and evelyn, and jack, and again, "rika?" evelyn reached inside her blouse, and pulled out a heavy gold chain hung with a splendid diamond ornament. "is this yours?" she cried. the princess took one look, then seized evelyn by the shoulders. "yes! yes!" she cried, chokingly. "tell me where is she? have you seen my baby? tell me! tell me!" evelyn said the thing quickest. "she is with my sister, and i think they are safe," she cried. the princess gave a deep sigh and fainted quietly away. it was a long time before she recovered, and then she wanted to be told over and over all about little rika. how she had looked, how she had borne the separation, everything. the morrises having been assured by ivan that warren was on the track of the men who had kidnapped the children, and knowing the cleverness and determination that warren always put into everything he ever did, were positive that warren had the children safely in his possession. and evelyn knew well that once with him, they would not get out of his sight again. all of this she used to comfort the princess who could scarcely contain herself for joy. "now it will all come out right!" she said. "when the men come back next time, we can set them to hunting up your son and prince ivan, and we will soon be reunited." she clapped her hands softly, and the footman approached. "luncheon, michael!" she said, and the professor watched with pleasure the speed with which the princess was obeyed. soon they were eating a delicious and much needed meal. the princess herself was so strengthened by the tonic of hope and joy that she was able to enjoy the delicate food. she could not hear enough about rika and at every sound declared that the men must be returning, although modjeska reminded her over and over that they were unlikely to return before dark. the afternoon wore on, professor morris and evelyn glad to rest after the recent shocks, and jack playing games with modjeska, while the princess walked restlessly about the vast chamber, constantly looking at her watch. finally she said joyfully: "it must be growing dark now. the men will soon return, and we will send them to your house where the boys and your little daughter will be waiting with my baby rika. oh, how can i ever be thankful enough to you for your goodness to her?" professor morris smiled. "considering the fact that miss modjeska has saved all our lives," he said, "i think that you need feel under no obligations to us. we were delighted to entertain the little rika. i am positive that my son will have them in safety somewhere, so you really need not worry. i do not." evelyn suppressed a smile. she was quite sure her father did not worry. he was always ready to let someone else do the worrying for him. suddenly a silver knob fastened to the wall dropped from its place and swung back and forth on a thin chain. "they have come!" cried the princess. she rushed across the room, and as the footman drew aside one of the heavy hangings, she pressed with all her might on a rough spot in the granite wall. as in the case of the flooring, the wall itself parted and slowly swung open. in the dark opening stood not one of the well-known house servants, but a slight figure covered with dirt and grime. he was tattered and barefooted. under the dirt his pallid face looked deathly, but fire blazed in the dark eyes, the fire of love. "mother!" he cried. "don't you know me?" the princess gave a cry, and clasped her son in a passionate embrace. "ignace!" she cried; and "ignace!" over and over, while she patted him and felt of him as though to assure herself that it was not a dream. "where is your father, ignace?" she whispered finally, as a dreadful thought pierced her. "i come from him," said the young man wearily. "he is wounded, mother, and needs you, but be brave, because he will live. let me sit while i tell you." he sank wearily into a chair, still clinging to the hand of the princess. he paid no attention to the strangers, but closed his eyes. "i thought i would never see you again, dear ones," he said huskily. "i simply can't tell you now what we have been through. all i can say is that in the final encounter, as the enemy passed lodz, my dear father was desperately wounded. i missed him, and searched for him. when i found him he was unconscious. mother, i thought he was dead. but he lived, and under cover of darkness we carried him to the house of our aunt francoise. she has turned it into a hospital, mother, and all the forty rooms are filled with soldiers. well, father had good care then, for all the rush aunt francoise had him taken to the hidden chapel in the east wall, and it is quiet and safe. but you must come and care for him, mother, for there are not enough nurses by half, and the men suffer so." "where was he injured, ignaee?" asked the princess, shuddering. the boy hesitated. "mother dear, it is pretty bad, but i have see it so much worse. he has lost his left arm." the princess covered her eyes. "oh, my dear, my dear!" she murmured. "how can i bear this for you?" "it might be far worse," said ignace cheerily. "we must start back to him tonight. did you save any of the motor cars?" he turned to michael. "two, your excellency," said the man. "they are hidden in a haystack down past the woods at the end of the estate. the large touring car, and your racer." "good!" said ignace; then suddenly, "where is my little rika?" at once the princess and modjeska commenced the story of her loss, and all the other events leading up to the appearance of the morrises and the strange coincidence of their having found the little girl. ignace listened breathlessly. once more the silver knob fell. someone else was coming. the footman opened the stone portal, and three men entered. they bowed profoundly to the princess and greeted ignace with deepest respect. they had of course no news of rika but the princess was able to impart the good news to them and to tell them that, after they had eaten, they could go to the morris house and fetch the two girls, ivan and warren back. "i am not sure that we can do so tonight, excellency," one said. "there is great confusion in the house. a triple guard surrounds it. so far the guards are no nearer than our doorway, but if they spread their lines we will not be able to get back. i heard a soldier say that two important prisoners had slipped out from under the very eyes of the officers and could not be found. they are in hiding somewhere, and every effort is being made to find them. they know they have not left the building." he glanced suspiciously at the strangers. "yes, they are here," said the princess. in a few words she explained. the man bowed low. "by your leave, excellency, i will take the others and go--at once," he said. "one may eat some other time perhaps. we are in danger even here, and i will not feel safe until we are on our way." "go then by all means," said ignace. "he is quite right, mother, and the sooner we are out of this, the better." "go, and in the meantime we will prepare for the journey." the men saluted and left silently, and the princess with the woman-servant and the two girls, collected dark cloaks and warm rugs. a bountiful lunch was prepared and packed. professor morris, holding his manuscript, sat searching through one pocket after another with a mournful persistence. finally evelyn noted him and asked what was the matter. "i have lost my reading glasses," he said. "can't we find them for you?" asked modjeska politely. she started to look on the rugs. "they are not here," said the professor. "i heard the ease fall out of my pocket when we were coming through the passage." "then we will get them," said modjeska. "it will only take a minute. would you like to come with me, evelyn?" "yes, i would!" said evelyn, who was nervous and wanted to do something. "hurry!" said the princess. "i know it is absolutely safe, but i can't bear one of you out of my sight for a moment." the passage was very cold and damp, and the girls each put on a heavy, dark cloak. they threaded their way through the rooms that lay between the living-room and the passage, and went up the narrow hallway with the flashlight illuminating the stone floor. the case was found at last and they were turning to go back, when the sound of an explosion reached their ears and a dim light appeared at the end of the corridor. for a moment the girls stood motionless; then they turned, and ran swiftly down the twisted way to the sliding stone, and found themselves once more in the room they had left, but it was in darkness. the electric lights were out and the little flashlights made but a dim illumination in the room. the men had returned, and all stood staring as the two girls raced into the room and told their story. "i think they are dynamiting the dining-room to find the prisoners. we must leave now," cried ignace. "no one knows how they may guard the grounds. they are bound to find their victims." "'where is rika?" cried modjeska. "they could find no trace of any of them," said the princess. "we can only hope that the boys have taken the little girls either to the american consul's or away from warsaw. we will have to trust to them and believe that they are all together, until we can get in touch with them. in the meantime there is but one course open. we must go to the prince at lodz." "and at once, mother! i have a feeling that we are not safe even here. have you your jewels?" "i have them all," said the princess. "all that i had placed on rika, and which miss evelyn has returned, and the court jewels as well. "then let us go," said ignace. "i'll lead the way, jan. when we reach the waterfall, go ahead and see if all is safe." in perfect silence they left the room, slipping along a narrow, low passageway that at first seemed walled with stone, then gave forth a moldy, earthy odor. presently they heard the sound of gently falling water, and found themselves under a narrow waterfall. again a clever spring was touched by some hand in the darkness, and one by one they emerged so close to the edge of the falling water that the spray wet them. they were in the open air once more. ignace clasped evelyn by the hand, and she could feel the nervous strain in his grasp. noiseless as shadows, they slid from tree to tree through the great park, and down the grove of interlacing trees. it was a long walk. as evelyn was wondering if she could possibly go much further, a dark, round shape appeared in the opening ahead. it was the haystack. chapter ix new clues walking along in the pleasant, fresh air, warren and ivan soon gained control of their cramped muscles. it was good to be free. they were faint from lack of food, however, and at the suggestion of one of the boy scouts, retraced their steps to the deserted bakery and once more raided the ovens. then, rested and refreshed, they picked their way into the residential section where they knew the officers of the invading forces had settled themselves. repeated questions finally led them to the building where professor morris and his son and daughter had been taken as spies. as they approached it, they noticed a triple guard at the gate and a large number of soldiers close around the palace. the boys hesitated. "let's see what this all means," said ivan. "there is some special reason for all these soldiers on guard. perhaps we can get one of them to talk." "they are not allowed to, you know," said warren. "we will try this," said ivan. he took a large cake from his pocket and approached the nearest soldier. he was a young fellow with a wistful, hungry face, and as ivan approached, his keen eyes fastened themselves on the bread. "eat?" said ivan. "yes," said the soldier, seizing the cake and biting off a great corner of it. "bless you, brother, i was starving!" "there is more where that came from," said ivan. "if you are hungry, why don't you go eat your supper." "eat?" said the soldier bitterly. "who knows how many hours we have been on guard here? i guarded a door in there all day, and now they have sent me here. the captain is so enraged that he thinks nothing of us, nothing!" ivan leaned carelessly against the wall and shrugged his shoulders. "what happened?" he asked, idly. the soldier laughed. "it is funny," he said. "you are nothing but a boy, so it will not hurt to talk to you, and i have been silent so long that my tongue's stiff. besides, this is good cake. well, know then, little brother, that some people were brought here last night with suspicious papers on them. an old man, a boy and a beautiful girl. the old man would not explain the mysterious words in his little book, and they threatened him with death. he did not believe it. did i tell you he was an american? he was. these americans never fear. they say simply, "kill me? that is impossible. postpone it, if you please, while i write to the consul!" always it is so. well, that old man, he could not be made to realize that captain handel is absolute ruler now, right here. they were brought to the state dining-room this morning, and the captain told them straight what he intended to do. it was death for the old man and the boy, and he would spare the girl." the soldier laughed. "i and one other were guarding the door, so we heard. presently the two captains came out. as they left the room captain handel called back, 'half an hour. just half an hour, understand!' "then he closed the door sharply. the two captains went to a little table not far from the door, and sat down. they were not for one second out of sight of the door. "we two stood directly facing it about three feet away in the hall. "the half hour passed. captain handel looked every minute at his watch, and captain schmitt kept saying, 'wait, wait; be fair.' "at last the time was up. they went to the door. captain schmitt straightened his saber belt, and threw the door wide. "he looked, then he dashed in, almost upsetting captain handel. the room was empty. we could see. he called us, and together we searched in and on and under everything in the great room. we rapped on the wall. we examined the iron bars, but the windows had not even been opened. "captain handel went into a fearful rage. the prisoners had disappeared as though they had never been. even the book was gone from the table, and the package of papers the old man had guarded. "we went over every foot of the place again and again. there was not an inch that sounded hollow, as though there was a secret passage. we even tore out a panel of the woodwork, and found a stone wall behind it." the soldier finished his cake, and drew a grimy hand across his lip. "that was good, brother," he said. "what happened then?" asked ivan, while warren pressed closer. "why, we hunted all day," said the soldier, "but of course we couldn't find them. why should we?" "why not?" asked ivan. "why not?" repeated the soldier. "why, those were not human beings at all. the old man was too silly for a real man, the girl was too beautiful. human beings do not disappear from a guarded room with four stone walls about it." the man lowered his voice, and spoke in a whisper. "they were devils, of course," he said. the boys were silent. "of course," said the soldier, "captain handel would not believe anything so simple. he would not believe they were gone, so tonight he fixed them. it is all over now, and i wish i could go get some supper." "what did he do?" asked ivan, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. "he dynamited the room," said the soldier calmly. "that part of the palace is in ruins. the stones fell like rain. no human being could have lived in it. but they did not find the bodies. however, they may be buried under the wreckage. i don't believe it, though." he sighed. "that was good cake," he said. "here's another," said warren. he clutched ivan and sunk into the shadow. he was shaking. "it is all over, ivan," he whispered. "they have killed them." ivan pondered. "i don't know," he said finally. "one thing is sure, if all those soldiers could not find them, it is certain we can't. they are either safe, warren, or else they are where we can never help them any more. it seems to me that the only thing to do now is to go straight to lodz and find elinor." "yes, that is the only thing to do," said warren. "if i let myself think about evelyn, i will go mad. we will go to lodz." "how?" asked ivan. "we will have to walk," replied warren. "well, i hope we can get a lift someway or other," said ivan. "at any rate, we must get out of this. i know every step of this part of the city. this place belongs to prince nicholani. i used to play all the time in this park." he led the way rapidly through the beautiful grounds and entered a grove of noble trees. they went on and on through the shadows, until they reached the open fields. beside the highway a great pile of hay lay scattered. "we might sleep here for the rest of the night," ivan suggested. "not if you can go on," said warren. "i think we had better get as far from the city as possible." "very well," said ivan, "but let us rest for half an hour." they flung themselves on the hay, and in a moment ivan was asleep. warren could not rest, however, and sat staring moodily into the night. in half an hour he roused his friend, and they started onward. they proceeded in silence, each busily thinking. warren trying to bear up and take his blows manfully, and ivan at a loss to know what to say to the brave boy who had lost all he held dear in so terrible a manner. the road was level, and they went rapidly. as they rounded a sharp turn, they saw an automobile ahead of them. it was a low racing car and stood at the side of the road. there was some trouble on, for a couple of men were bending over a wheel. "they have had a puncture," exclaimed warren, "and they are headed toward lodz. let's see if they will give us a lift." he boldly approached the men, who started, then looked relieved to see that it was a couple of boys. "what's the trouble?" said warren in polish. the man straightened, and threw his hands up in a gesture of despair. "all the trouble in the world!" he exclaimed. "the tire is punctured, and i cannot mend it. i am not a chauffeur, but i can drive this car a little, and my master told me to bring it to him. i don't know what to do. of course, as soon as it comes light the soldiers will seize it." "i can fix the tire," said warren. "i know all about it, but we are going to lodz and we ought not to wait. it is a long way." "good!" said the man. "we are going to lodz, too. there are only two seats, but we will carry you somehow. only be quick and mend the tire. our lives may depend on it." warren turned the light on the wheel and went to work. he had always prided himself on his swiftness in working out tire troubles, and when he saw the bad tear in the tube, he took it off and replaced it with one of the new tires strapped to the rear of the machine. he worked in desperate haste, and ivan, at his side, worked with equal desperation. the men watched or restlessly walked up and down the road talking in undertones to each other. it was evident that their knowledge of cars was but slight, and they were forced to trust to the young stranger if they were to proceed at all on their perilous journey. when the tire was in place and pumped up, warren hastily collected the tools and started to replace them in the tool box but ivan stopped him with a word. he spoke sharply to the men. "take these things," he said. "we are ready!" the man who had spoken first took the wheel, and his companion the other seat. ivan sat on his knee, with warren on the running board. it was soon evident that there was something wrong. the car went plowing along on low speed, the engine bucking and starting. "good heavens, ivan!" exclaimed warren, after a few miles of this jerky progress. "what ails the thing? do you suppose the dub knows how to drive?" ivan turned to the man at the wheel. "what's the matter?" he asked. "do you know how to drive? what ails the car?" "i don't know," said the man. "in truth i have never driven but twice, but i thought i could and when the princess told me to bring this car after her i was sure i could. she is ahead with her son and princess modjeska and some guests. i fear i will not be able to reach lodz." he pressed a lever at random, and the ear shot forward with a speed that nearly threw warren from the step. another frantic attempt and she slowed down with a suddenness that almost put the others through the wind shield. "here, stop!" commanded warren. "get out of that seat and let me drive! ivan, tell him i simply eat cars!" the machine stopped, and the man thankfully resigned his seat to warren, who drew up the heavy motor gloves, and settled himself in his seat. the car, a beautiful french model, was familiar to warren, and he pressed the starter with perfect confidence. and he was justified. like a swallow, the beautiful machine skimmed the smooth and level road, leaving warsaw with all its tragedy and far behind. warren had scarcely slept for two nights. he had had but little food, and his bandaged head felt light and strange. as they went on and on, warren commenced to wonder if he could possibly make the distant city. at intervals strange colored lights flashed before his eyes, and faint, booming noises sounded in his ears. they had not encountered a soul. it was as though the whole country, after its terrible conflict, lay dead. finally a faint streak of gray appeared in the east. dawn was coming. "how far to lodz?" he called. "just over the hill?" "just over yonder hill," said the man at his side. warren slowed down, and dropped one tired hand from the wheel. "where are you going when you get to the city?" he inquired. "if we get through," the man replied, "i am to go to the palace where lives a sister of our princess. she has turned it into a hospital. by a strange chance, our prince was taken there when he was wounded. the princess must, be there now.' "very well," said warren. "direct me when we reach the city." it grew brighter, and was quite light when they entered the quiet streets. fortunately they were not stopped, and with the guidance of the man beside him warren drew safely up before the wide stone steps of the palace. the car stopped. warren shut off the engine, and the others jumped out, glad to stretch themselves. warren alone made no effort to move. the others after stamping their cramped legs, turned to look at him. his hand was still on the wheel, but he was unconscious. they carried him into the great hall, and a nurse in uniform directed them to an empty cot and hurried after a doctor. he pronounced it simply a case of exhaustion, and gave orders which the nurse rapidly filled, motioning the others to leave as she did so. the servants turned to ivan and thanked him for his assistance. for a moment ivan thought that it would be a good plan to go to the princess, and tell her that he was in lodz. then he decided that the presence of a boy in the city, although he was the son of her very good friend, would only cause her to feel responsible for his welfare or safety; so he merely nodded, turned his back to tell the nurse that he would return shortly, and then he walked listlessly down into the heart of the town. hucksters were driving into the open market. doors were opening here and there. a company of soldiers passed at double quick. ivan wondered where they were going. he wondered, too, what possible chance he had to get something to eat. there were no scouts in lodz besides his tired self and the exhausted boy back in the hospital cot. ivan thought of warren with a gratitude that he could not have put in words. warren had taught him so many things. with boy scout principles and boy scout training, he had changed from a haughty, helpless young aristocrat to a helpful, well-balanced boy, perfectly capable of taking care of himself and of assisting others as well. ivan felt the change; he was so reliant, so strong. a few months ago, he would have stood helpless in his present situation, conscious only that he was prince ivan ivanovich and must be looked after. now, as he faced the morning light, hungry, ragged, and with only the american nickel in his pocket, he smiled at fate and went on without fear to enter whatever adventure might come. the only thing that worried him was the want of enough money to buy himself a bit of bread and a dried fish. he reflected that he could easily have asked the princess for enough to supply his wants, but he would not turn back. ahead of him, an old man with a heavily laden cart was having trouble with a skittish horse. in vain he pulled on the lines. in vain he threatened and coaxed. the young creature would not stand, and while the old man worried with it, vegetables and long sticks of black bread were slyly stolen out of the end of his cart. ivan approached. "let me hold the horse, father," he said, taking it by the bridle as he spoke. the old man threw his hands up in a gesture of thankfulness. "blessings on you, my son!" he cried. "these thieves will ruin me while i speak with that foolish animal. hold fast, my son, and i will give you your breakfast." ivan nodded, and the old man turned eagerly to his customers. presently he reached over, and handed ivan a generous piece of bread and some fresh fruit. ivan watched the throngs as he ate, holding the horse with his left hand, although it was now perfectly quiet. as he idly watched the persons passing, he noted that with the passing time, the market had become crowded. people moved in throngs. and then, as the crowd before him happened to part, ivan noticed in the distance a woman hurrying away. she had a big basket on her arm, filled with provisions. a little girl clung to her other hand. she was ragged, dirty and pale; but ivan recognized elinor. dropping the horse's rein, he dashed toward them, but the crowd had closed, and he was too late. the earth seemed to have swallowed them. like a hound on a trail, he searched the market over and over, but not a trace could he find of the woman or child. in his surprise at seeing, elinor, he had failed to take particular notice of the woman. but as he thought of it, he felt that, it was not the one he had seen in warsaw and he remembered that that woman had spoken of her sister in lodz. feeling that there was nothing to be gained by remaining longer in the market, ivan hurried back to the hospital, where he found warren much better, and fretting because he was not allowed to get up. "well, i've seen elinor!" said ivan, as soon as he entered the ward. warren sat up, his eyes bulging under, his bandage. "have you, honest?" he cried. "where is she?" "well, i lost her in the crowd," said ivan, and told the whole story. warren lay listening carefully. "well, as long as we know she is here in the same town, we know we will find her. and there won't be any slip the next time." his face clouded. "but, ivan," he said huskily, "i can't bear to think of my dear evelyn, and poor father, and little jack." he closed his lips and shut his eyes in a desperate effort to control his grief. warren's cot was drawn across a closed door. and on the other side of that door sat evelyn, crying her heart out for her lost brother and sister! chapter x beggars when poor little elinor found herself dragged forcibly from her brother and away from the comparative safety of the underground room where warren and ivan had so mysteriously appeared, as she thought, to get her and take her home, her childish heart was filled with a terror so overwhelming that she did not know what she did. notwithstanding the efforts of the woman who held her, she screamed as hard as she could and stiffened in the woman's brutal grasp until she was obliged to put her down. elinor tried to run, but she was too tightly held. then with a muttered rush of comments, the woman rained blows on the poor little shoulders and body until the child sank to the ground, nearly stunned from the force of the blows. her cries died, and she lay gasping. "now will you be silent?" demanded the fury, shaking her. "you just try that again! just try it, and see what i will do to you." she overwhelmed the fallen child with terrible threats until elinor was silenced and shook as though in a chill. "now you had better do as i tell you," the woman said. "you will never see your brother again, never; never! and you will have to live with me, and do as i say." she jerked the child to her feet and dragged her down the street after the two men who had gone on, one of them carrying rika. she was still muttering when she reached them. "this one has got to be trained," she said savagely; "and i might as well begin it right off." michael shrugged his shoulders. "why don't you show a little, mercy at the first?" he inquired carelessly. "it doesn't matter to me, but i tell you, martha, you will spoil her for everything if you handle her too roughly. she will die. i've seen her sort before." "then let her die!" said the woman. "good riddance it will be if she does not take kindly to my tasks." "suit yourself," said michael; "but take my advice and give her a little time." "time!" said martha. "time! what are you thinking of? there is no time! she has lost two years, as it is. you don't seem to remember, michael, that i am as good a pickpocket as there is in europe. that child is almost too old to begin to learn the art. the other one, rika, is just about right; and she has such fine, delicate, little fingers. well, this one has good hands too. but you know well that they are clumsy after they reach five. do you remember the yellow-haired child i trained about ten years ago? ali, she was a wonder! but you never could keep her down. how i used to beat her! she would be black welts from her shoulders to her knees. no, you could not keep her down. she was so ambitious. if she had only kept out of politics, she might have been stealing yet. but now she is in siberia, in the mines. bah! a home life for me, i say! what care i who is in power, so long as pretty ladies carry shopping bags and wear sparkling bracelets and flashing brooches! i say a woman wants to keep to her own place. isn't it so, my michael?" "yes, indeed," said michael heartily. "i read the other day--" "read!" said martha scornfully. "that's another mistake. why should a man like you read? sooner or later it will get you in trouble. you never know what the reading may contain. better not know. what you don't know won't hurt you." "you are wrong," said michael stubbornly. "sometimes what you don't know does hurt you. if i could live again, i would be a better man. when i was a boy there was no learning to be had, except for the upper class and the priests. now when i am old and it is too late, you can learn everything. i have loitered around the schools and listened to the boys talking their lessons over. it is amazing what they know. why, they know everything! and there are schools where they are set to work at all sorts of trades. i took a job cleaning floors once so that i might go in and see what it was they did. martha, those boys (they were quite little ones, too) made such beautiful things--furniture and all that. there was one little chair that you could set on your hand. it was as perfect as though it was big enough for you. i thought that i would steal it. then i thought how sad the little fellow who made it would feel. the janitor told me there were prizes for the best workmen, and i knew that chair was best. so i didn't take it. i never wanted anything more, in my life!" "silly," said martha. "always bothering your old head about someone's feelings! i do wish you would stop it! as for these children, i tell you, michael, it is a matter of business. we are no longer young. we must prepare for the time when we can no longer stand on corners and in church doors and beg. my fingers even now are growing clumsy. who will take care of us then if we do not train these children?" "i suppose so," said michael wistfully, "but it does seem a pity. you should have seen that chair." "i've heard about it enough at any rate," said martha. "you should have taken it. you could have sold it for a few kopeks. "i couldn't," said michael. "all right," said martha. "this is another matter; these children. you heard what i said. now here is what i plan. we will go to lodz and there we will stay for the next year or two. this war cannot last forever, and when it is well past, why, then we will strike out in the world. i know little girls. these will both be beauties when they are a few years older." she laughed as she dragged elinor along. "i tell you i did well when i picked up these pearls." "no doubt; no doubt!" michael answered. he could not but look with pity on the two children however. he was a man whose whole life had been evil, but somewhere in him was a spark of kindness and tenderness. he fought, he drank, he stole, he lied; but the sight of the two poor little girls dragging miserably along with the remorseless woman somehow touched his heart. he knew that he would often beat them, and he would also give them their first lessons in picking pockets; but he knew, too, that there would be times when he would shield them from the cold, relentless fury of the woman. so it was with a feeling of pity for the weary little feet that he asked, "where do we go tonight? i am tired." "tired?" scorned martha. "you are ever tired! however, we will eat some supper, and then on to lodz." "walk?" asked the other man, who had not spoken before. "no," said martha. "i have a pocketful of money. no, you don't," she added as the man came close to her. "here's a handy knife if you try that. something tells me to get out of here as soon as we can and it will take too long to walk with these burdens. besides, they would never stand it. you may be sure i would not spend this money on the railroad if i could help myself." she turned into a doorway. the house was deserted. "here," she said, "i will stay here with these two, while you get something for me to drink. also go to the railroad and see if the trains are running. and hurry!" she found a chair for herself, pushed the two children in the corner farthest from the door, and settled herself to wait, while the two men walked leisurely out of the house and away. an hour later michael hurried back. martha greeted him sourly. "don't pretend to hurry, lazy one," she scolded. "i know where thou hast been. did you bring what i asked?" "i bring news," said michael, glancing at the two children. "bah! that is dry drinking," said martha, making a face. "well, have it over!" "there is a search on for the little one," said michael. "i know who she is. if they find her with us--" he drew his hand across his neck with the whistling sound of a knife. "who is she then?" asked martha in astonishment. michael stooped and whispered in her ear. "ai! ai!" exclaimed martha. "no wonder her hands are delicate and small! well, we have got to go on with it now. and quickly, too. how will we get out of here? shall we trust the cars? do they run? answer, michael, what did you find out?" "a lot of things," said michael. "first place, the station is watched, so i bought two tickets for lodz. we men will go down there tomorrow." "and leave me here!" asked martha furiously. "no, no, no!" said michael. "will you wait until i finish? when i came from the railroad, i passed a great empty motor truck. some soldiers are getting it ready to go to lodz tonight. they are going for more munitions. it belongs to the enemy, but thanks to my german mother, i am german at will; so i spoke to them. i told them about my wife and two little children who were going to walk to lodz. it was great luck. they said you could go with them. "think of that!" said martha. "not to walk a step, and to ride down that beautiful road in a truck. what a wonder! i never expected to get into one of those great horseless things. well, what did you say then, stupid?" "you are to go down now, and they will start soon. but they do not want the officers to know they are taking you. it is only because of my german and my nice way," he laughed. "well, get up, and we will go over." "i am almost afraid," said martha. "there is no way as good as this," the man assured her. "you will be safe. you will rest quite well under the canvases in the truck. and the road is indeed smooth." he lifted rika and led the way. it was growing late, and they hurried to the place near headquarters where the great track stood. michael did not wait for anyone to come. he jumped in, and made a sort of nest in the canvas covers that were lying in the bottom. in this he seated martha and the children, warning the woman to hold fast to the girls. then he covered them cleverly with the lightest of the covers, saw that no one would guess that the truck was occupied, and proceeded to sit on the nearby curb and smoke. he was afraid that someone would throw something heavy in the truck, and bring a scream, from one of the children. presently the two soldiers who were to drive came out. they had had a good meal and were smoking contentedly. michael went up to them. he opened his hand and showed three coins. "here is all my wealth. i will share it with for your kindness to my wife and dear little ones," he said in a trembling voice. the men shook their heads, but he insisted, and they took the offered coins, protesting that they would take their passengers safely to lodz. "ah! what goodness!" said michael with deep feeling. "if i could ever repay you!" "that's all right," said one of the soldiers. "just be silent about the load we are carrying. tell no one. our captain is in the deuce of a temper. he would punish anything today." he drew on his gloves and mounted to his seat. the other soldier swung up beside him. "it's a pity we can't take you too," said he; "but it wouldn't be safe. good-bye." "good-bye," said michael in a trembling voice. "good-bye, wife! good-bye, my sweet children!" martha pinched elinor roughly. "say good-bye!" she hissed, and a frightened little voice called, something that was almost lost in the sound of the engine as the car started. martha stifled a shriek. this was a terrifying experience. as the car rolled onward, the two children, both accustomed to riding in motor cars, and too tired to mind the unyielding springs and hard tires of the truck, were lulled to sleep; but martha sat wide-eyed, not daring to make the least outcry, and afraid to follow her heart's wish and jump to the ground. the night was filled with terrors, and when at dawn the car stopped, and a soldier brought her a can of coffee she was too stiff and frightened to speak. when at last they reached lodz, the two men were obliged to lift her to the ground. they set them down on the outskirts of the city and martha hurried, as well as she could with her tired muscles, and the children dragging at her side, to the hovel where her sister lived. there was a long talk then, and many explanations, and martha rested and slept as though she never would rise again. when she did finally get up, she had lost all count of the time, but michael was there, and the children were trying to get a handkerchief from the pocket of a coat suspended from the ceiling by a cord. "get it so carefully that you will not stir the coat, and you will have a piece of candy." the children tried again and again. martha groaned and disturbed them. "well, at last i am rested," she said. "michael, thou fool, when next you get me such a place--" she groaned again. "better that than not at all, eh, martha?" laughed the man. "we might have walked it," she declared. "yes. in how many days," he demanded, "with those children at heel?" "of course," she said, "but it was frightful." she shook her head. "we rocked and tossed like a ship at sea. and those children slept. slept all the way. i could have beaten them!" she turned to her sister. "you say you have no money? we will have to go and get some then." she turned to the children and studied them critically. "those clothes won't do," she said. "where is there a place where i can get them something else to wear?" "two houses down," said her sister. "i will go with you." the women were not gone long, and came back with a bundle of children's clothing. michael was still patiently teaching them the handkerchief trick, rika's little face was puckered, and she was ready to cry although michael had given her several pieces of candy. it did not take long to take off the clothes the children had been wearing, and dress them instead more in accordance with the parts they were to play. then martha took a stick and stood before elinor. "look at me!" she commanded, and when the child's frightened eyes sought her face she said, "you are to beg for your supper, do you hear? as soon as you see a kind looking lady or gentleman, you are to put out your hand, and say, 'please, we are starving,' like that. say it!" elinor was silent. "say it!" she repeated. but elinor was still. "do you want to be beaten?" martha asked in a terrible voice. "do you?" elinor found her voice. "no," she said in polish. "no, please do not beat me, but i cannot beg. my brother will come soon and get me. i do not want any supper. i will wait for him." martha sat down, the stick still in her hand, and thrust her ugly face close to the child's. "hear me!" she growled. "your brother will never come for you. he is dead. dead, i tell you! you will never see him again. you are going to live here with me, and you are going to do just what i tell you or i shall beat you so you will never forget it. now do you understand?" elinor looked her steadily in the eyes. "yes," she said. "then say what i told you," said martha, getting to her feet. elinor looked at her, then reading the threat in her eyes, she said, "please, we are starving." it seemed more than her independent spirit could bear even with the fear of the stick on her heart. she added, "some day i shall ran away." "that settles it!" cried martha. "we will settle this now!" she threw the helpless child on the ground and began beating her with the stick. for a long while elinor endured it, then unable to keep silent under the pain, she burst into screams and sobs. the woman continued her blows until elinor's voice held a thin note of agony, and she lifted her and flung the quivering little body on a pile of rags, and sat herself down by the table. "that ought to break her spirit," she said. she waited until the sobs and cries subsided, and then called the child. the terrified little girl slipped from the bed and ran to her tormentor. martha looked at her critically. "that did you good," she said. "now we will get out of here, and go to work." "have you any money at all?" asked her sister, turning to michael. "a little," he grudgingly admitted. "well, let us have enough to go to the market while it is open. i go late each morning, and buy the spoiled vegetables that are left over." "a good plan," said martha. when they had finished with the market, the women walked slowly down through the city, begging wherever they could. they were able to recognize foreigners wherever they met them, although they were not many. always, however, they gave, and gave generously. the store of coins in martha's sack grew and grew. "we will have to exchange this stuff for a few larger coins somewhere," she said. "i think we can do so safely at the railroad station. let us go there." the day had been a time of torture for the two children. elinor was so tired that she thought that she would fall at each step, but the relentless hand held her up and pulled her on. rika, in the other woman's arms, had fallen asleep several times. they did not mind that; her tear-stained little face with its long, curling lashes looked very pitiful, and as long as she slept they told a sad story, about her being lame. but elinor had to walk; and she was sure that when she fell from exhaustion, martha would probably kill her. there was a great crowd at the station, and dozens of other beggars; but martha noted with satisfaction that none had such beautiful children to beg for. there were many more coins in the sack before long, and just as elinor's knees bent, under her, and she thought that now at last she would fall, the women set the children on a big box, and with the most horrible threats if they, stirred or spoke to anyone, walked off to the ticket office to change the small coins into something safer to handle. chapter xi the red cross car when warren was dismissed from the hospital, he found himself being stared at by ivan in a very perplexing manner. finally he demanded the reason. ivan laughed. "you look so clean," he said. "your face does not go with the rest of you, those ragged clothes and all that. besides, i have not seen what your natural face looked like for a few days. i had forgotten just what you did look like." warren smiled. "just the same, it did seem good to clean up little," he said. "however, just to oblige you i'll put on a few frills." he stooped and rubbed his hands in some plaster dust, and transferred it to his face. ivan studied the change. "that's better," he said. "as long as we have to wear these clothes, i think we had better look the part. there is one thing certain though. we are dressed exactly as we were in warsaw, when we were visiting our friends, the thieves. i wish we could get some other clothes." "i hadn't thought of that," said warren. "i wish we could change, but how can we?" "i don't know," said ivan. "certainly we can't risk having those people see us. we will have to be cautious." "where shall we go, i wonder?" mused warren. "i don't suppose it matters now," said ivan. "it is so late in the afternoon. tomorrow morning we will have to watch the market. they will be sure to come for more provisions." "true enough," said warren. "let's go down to the central station and see if the trains are running again." the boys sauntered down through the streets without being molested by the sharp-eyed soldiers who patrolled the way. they found the station a busy place. the trains were once more running, on broken schedules of course, but everything was so nearly adjusted to the usual order that there was transportation for the hundreds who were eagerly seeking passage. there were a great many foreigners carefully clutching their transports and hurrying out of the country. at the back of the station stood an automobile, a low, racing roadster. "we had a ride in her last night," said warren, as he approached and recognized the machine. "and it was some ride, wasn't it, ivan?" "it certainly was," said ivan, smiling. "what's the red cross flag on it i wonder?" "the princess has given it over to the hospital, i suppose," said warren. "no one will stop it now. wonder who drives it? i'm sorry for anyone who rides with the crazy guy who tried to run it last night." "here is the chauffeur now," said ivan, stepping back as a dark, burly man approached the machine and took a package from the tool-box. "he is a new one," said warren. they wandered around the corner of the building and mingled with the throngs waiting for the train. it came puffing in, and as the crowd pressed forward, warren heard a familiar, coarse, whining voice behind him. he looked; and as he did so, he was conscious of ivan who, with the quickness of a bird, slipped between two people, and was out of sight. instantly warren followed him. they met behind a truck loaded with boxes. warren was shaking. "did you see?" he asked. "yes," said ivan in a low voice. "elinor and rika, too! what are we going to do?" "i don't know," said warren. "just do what we have to do when the time comes. don't risk them another hour. elinor looks half dead. keep out of sight and watch for a chance. don't let the girls see you, any more than the women. they would give it away, sure. come on!" he slipped quickly through the crowd, only a boy, and unnoticed. behind, at his heels, came a thin lad, soiled and ragged. it was prince ivan, prince of one of the greatest houses in warsaw, but his own father would not have recognized him. together they slyly watched the two women in front of them who, each with a child, begged pitifully of the travelers. the woman who had rika held her in her arms, but poor little elinor, on foot, reached a tiny hand toward the passing throng, and fearfully glanced at her ugly jailer as she did so. the train remained on the track. it was evidently going to make up a section. the women wandered here and there, and finally approached a big packing case near the station door. here they stood, evidently consulting. one woman slyly, showed the other a handkerchief full of kopeks. then while the boys scarcely dared to breathe, they seated the two children on the box, and with a fearful threat which caused the face of elinor to turn even paler, they hurried into the waiting room, and turned towards the ticket window. "now!" said warren, "and be quick!" he ran up to the children, and taking his sister in his arms, pressed his hand over her mouth until he had spoken a word in her ear. then followed by ivan carrying rika, he walked steadily round the corner of the platform. before him stood the roadster, with the red cross flag. without an instant's hesitation, he slipped into the driver's seat, elinor still in his arms. he thrust her between his knees, as ivan took the other seat, and tucked little rika out of sight in the same manner. as he did so, they heard a series of hoarse screams, and the two women, beating the air and wringing their hands, came rushing around the corner. warren started the car full speed, and they started with a jerk that almost threw them out. looking behind, ivan saw the women point to the car and to his dismay a soldier on a motorcycle jumped from his machine and ran up to them. as the car sped down the long avenue, ivan saw a last glimpse of the man returning to his machine. they were followed. "they are after us!" he said to warren. "what with?" asked warren, his eyes on the road. "there was no other machine." "a soldier on a motorcycle. make the first turn you can." warren whipped the little racer round one curve and then another. he was thinking deeply. elinor commenced to cry. "don't let them get me, warry!" she begged. "you are all right, dear," he answered. then to ivan: "i have it. didn't you say you knew that princess what-is-her-name that owns this car?" "yes, a little," said ivan. "well, you could make her recognize whose son you are, couldn't you?" "of course!" said ivan. "well," said warren, "we can't get anywhere with the car, and the only thing for us to do is to go to the hospital as quickly as we can, and you get hold of that princess, and do some explaining. you see she stands in with both sides because of the hospital. it's her own sister's house, isn't it?" "yes," said ivan, "and that's the only thing to do. this is a red cross car now, and there will be a big fuss about it." "where are we, anyway?" said warren, slowing down to regulation speed. "turn to your left and ahead for three blocks, then once to the right, and you will see the palace in the distance," said ivan. they swept on, reached the marble steps of the building, stopped the car, and warren leaped to the ground. he looked at his little sister. he could not speak, but held out his arms, and she sprang into them. she clung to him trembling, and calling his name over and over while he pressed kisses on her pale little cheeks. with ivan still holding rika, they hurried up the steps just as the soldier on the motorcycle whirled to the curb. he leaped from his seat and followed them, talking furiously in german, but the boys were so close to the open door that they slipped inside before the man could lay a hand on them. a nurse came up and a doctor, and the boys commenced, both at once, one in polish and the other in english, to explain matters. the doctor looked grave. no one would dream that the two thin, pale, ragged little girls were anything but the beggars they looked to be, and the doctor shook his head. ivan stamped his foot. "i want the princess!" he said. "she will straighten this out. send someone for the princess!" he demanded. "i think she is out," said the nurse; "but i will send." she gave a message to an assistant, and they waited in silence while the girl was gone. she returned in a moment. "the princess is not here," she said, "but madame, her sister, is coming." as she spoke, the door opened, and the lovely face of princess olga appeared. "what is the trouble?" she asked of the doctor, and glanced at the group before her. one low cry she gave; one spring, and little rika was folded to her breast. the baby arms were close around her neck, the little face hidden while the princess murmured loving names and strained the little form close to her heart. warren was the first to speak. he turned to ivan. "well, what do you know about that?" he said solemnly in english. the doctor turned to ivan and plied him with questions. presently the princess looked up. "who are you?" she asked, noting the pale child at his side. "my name is morris, warren morris," said warren. he would have explained farther, but the princess, rising, lifted her head and looking reverently up, said simply, "god is good! come with me!" imperiously she led the way down the great hall, now full of cots, and to a narrow door. she opened this and pushed warren through ahead of her. and evelyn, poor heart-broken evelyn, saw him as he came. then she had him in her arms; and for once warren could not kiss her enough or hug her hard enough. but he had to be shared with elinor who commenced to look happy once more. "where is father?" asked warren doubtfully, when evelyn seemed assured that he was real, and that she actually had elinor back again. "out with the princess," said evelyn. then for the first time she noticed that the princess was gone, and the door shut, and they were alone. "warren, you must be very good to father," said evelyn gently. "he has suffered more than i ever knew anyone could. he takes all the blame for everything." "well,--" said warren stubbornly, "a lot of it has been his fault." "that doesn't matter now," said evelyn. "father is not to blame for the forgetfulness and selfishness in his work that we find so hard to bear. his parents are the ones to blame. they thought because he was such a bright child that everything should be made secondary to his needs. and then our dear mother went right on spoiling him. so now we, who are his children, can't expect to make him over. we have just got to remember that he is a truly great man--in his own line, and we are very proud of him. we are older now, and things won't be so hard for us." "you bet we are older!" said warren. "i don't expect to feel any older when i am ninety than i do now. but you are right about father. i have felt pretty sore, sis, i confess, and when i thought you were dead, and elinor lost for good, it didn't seem as though i could forgive him. you are right about his people. folks have no right to let a kid run the whole place like that, even if it is to develop his brain. i'll tell you one thing, if ever i have any kids of my own, i'm going to bring them up after a plan of my own." evelyn smiled. "i hope it will work, warry," she said. warren looked savage. "it will, you can bet," he said. "i will make them go to school, of course, but they will begin to qualify for the boy scouts when they are about three years old; and they will learn to shoot, and know first aid when they are about four, and a lot of other things when they are five or so." evelyn groaned. "i'm sorry for those children, warren," she laughed. "well, perhaps i will give them a little more time, but they have got to understand that efficiency is as necessary when they are sixteen as when they are sixty. do you remember those chaps we saw in switzerland? they were way up in their studies. you know i went to school with a fellow one day, but when school was out they were doing things worth while. and the fellow i knew had the dandiest rifle i ever saw. he said it was a prize from the government for target shooting. and he knew how to handle that gun, too. he said there was a fine for carelessness with firearms. "then these germans. i've seen dozens of fellows no older than i am. they are hard as nails and fit every minute. say, what's father going to do?" he demanded. "are we going to spend our lives here, or are we going home?" "father does not know yet that you are here, you know," evelyn reminded him. "he ought to be here soon now." "let's get him to go home as soon as we can," said warren. "i've seen about all i can stand of these horrors." he put his arm around evelyn's shoulders and embraced both dear sisters. "evelyn, we will never be the same children again," he said sadly. "oh, i'm homesick for america! i want to go home to princeton. i want to have it come fourth of july and hear the crackers go off and see the flag hanging out of store windows, and upside down and wrong side to on people's lawns the way they most always hang it. i want to hooray for 'mericky.' i am dead, dead sick of this, sissy. i want to go where i belong." "poor old warren!" said evelyn. "i know how you feel. i want to go, too. but you can't shake the dust of europe off like that, you know. we have made friends, good friends here, and you will have to keep in touch with the polish boy scouts. you can't shirk that, you know." "no, of course not," agreed warren. "i just want to go home and soak up on america for awhile. i've got a lot of things to tell those fellows, too!" he said solemnly. "well, we could go right away if father is willing, and if we could get passports and transportation," said evelyn. "only i've got to go back and get the baby." "the what!" shouted warren. "why, the baby," said evelyn. "the baby you brought me; the one you brought me from its dead mother." "sure enough!" said warren. "well, where is it, anyway?" "back in warsaw," said evelyn. "i left it with the woman who lived in the corner house. when the soldiers took us away, she came out to see what the disturbance was, and she offered to keep the baby." "a baby!" said warren. "so you are going to take it home! well, that does seem almost the last straw! you don't suppose your friend in warsaw would like to keep it?" "no, i don't," said evelyn firmly. "that woman has six, and her husband was killed, and she is ruined. she will have hard enough work feeding her own. she is an angel to keep it so, long. we have dozens of relatives over home, and they are all going to have the privilege of helping to care for our little war baby. i shall name her for the princess." "all right," said warren. he went to the window and looked out. "i wish father would come," he said. "is jack with him? suppose i go and look for them?" "you will stay right here," said evelyn. "i don't want one of you out of my sight from now on. jack is with father. they went out to go to the market. father has been helping a lot here. he has given the hospital all sorts of things that were badly needed. the princess will send him in as soon as she comes. isn't it like a fairy tale to think that we had little rika all the time?" "i wish you would begin at the beginning and tell me all that happened after you were arrested," said warren. "i have had such a lot of scraps." "all right," said evelyn. she looked down at the little sister in her arms. "see," she said, "she has gone to sleep. the darling is exhausted." warren looked grave. "she has had the worst experience of all," he said. "we won't know for a good while just what she has undergone. i would not want to question her. it will have to come out in bits. and i think the baby will be a good thing after all. it will help occupy elinor's attention and make her forget. yes, we have got to get out of here as soon as we can on her account. now go on." evelyn cuddled the sleeping child more closely, and commencing at the moment when the soldiers broke down the door, she told her brother the thrilling and almost unbelievable story of their adventure. finally she reached the end. warren had made no comments, but the stern and anxious expression of his face betrayed his feelings. evelyn paused. "and to think that i was right on the other side of that door when you were crying yesterday! poor little sister, i hope you will never, never have to cry for me again." there was a sound of rapid steps at the door. it was flung open and jack rushed in, closely followed by the professor. trouble and danger and separation change our viewpoint. there had been a time not long past when warren regarded any demonstration of affection as unmanly, but now he found himself in his father's arms and only too glad to be there. chapter xii over the sea evelyn had told the truth. professor morris was a changed man. for the first time in all his orderly humdrum student existence, he had had to face war and death and murder, and all the crimes that stalk through a land at such times. it had accomplished what all the arguments, all the lecturing, all the entreaties in the world would never have accomplished. professor morris had been shaken out of himself. there had been sleepless nights when his life had looked very poor and thin and useless. what was his book, a dry thing of many pages, when he compared it to the needs of the dear children who had been so loyal and so true to him? it came to him that culture may be made as selfish and as harmful as any vice there is. but benjamin morris was, after all, a man; and late as it was, it was not too late for him to humbly resolve to be a better father, and a more valuable citizen. and he kept his word. presently ivan returned. the boy had purposely kept away until the reunited family had had time to talk everything all over. when he entered, professor morris sat looking at him, with his eyes narrowed and a puzzled look on his face. evelyn knew that look, and wondered what was passing in her father's mind. he sat quite silent, and after a little left the room. when he returned, he brought the princess olga, who was leading the little rika as though she dared not leave her out of her sight. "we have been talking things over," said princess olga. "of course the only reasonable thing for professor morris to do is to return to america without delay. he has no right to remain here and possibly endanger the lives of so many young people, and there is nothing that he can do for us. some day we will want help, and then we know that you will all come to our aid. ivan, we have been talking it all over with my husband, the prince, and we have decided that the best thing for you to do is to go also. wait," she said as ivan shook his head. "my boy, our country is in ruins. your father is at the front, we know not where. you can not serve him by remaining here where you are, every moment in danger of being arrested and held as a prisoner or worse. your estates are in ruins; but not withstanding, you are, after your father, the head of your house. you owe to poland the one thing you can now do for her. you must preserve and safeguard your life. and you must go to the university where professor morris is such an eminent instructor. you must learn statesmanship. some day, ivan, poland will need you. what chance have you here now in this stricken land? "i want you to go, ivan. we will take the responsibility. and i want you to take these jewels, and use them for your expenses and education!" she held out a glittering handful of priceless gems. "no," said professor morris firmly. "princess, you will need all you have. it happens that i have plenty of money, and we live very simply, so there is enough and to spare for the two children we hope to take with us." "two?" said the princess. "the baby," said the professor. "i confess the needs of an infant seem too complex and difficult for me to cope with, but my daughter entertains no fears, and insists upon taking the little fellow with us." "it's a girl, father," corrected evelyn. "ah, yes," said the professor, bowing. "i believe you did say that he is a girl." "i have told him at least a dozen times," said evelyn in a whisper to warren. "i suppose we have got to take her along, no matter what he is," warren whispered back. "however," said the professor, glancing reprovingly at the children, "there is plenty of money, in reason, and if ivan prefers, we will keep an account of his educational expenses, and at some future date he can repay what i shall deem necessary to expend for him." "that is better," said the princess. she turned to ivan. "you will go, ivan." "yes," said ivan. then sadly, "but i wish i could see my father." "it is indeed hard," said the princess. "we feel that he must be unhurt however, and i know that he will be so relieved, and glad to know that you are in a place of safety. so that is settled." she smiled. "now there is one more thing to be done. i have here a permit from the general in charge of the city. it gives us safe conduct on the roads to warsaw and return, to get the baby. i have arranged for one of the nurses to go with the new chauffeur and warren. i will take part of her duties, and evelyn may assist me. she will get the baby and bring it here to us. they can go tonight, and return tomorrow. all will then be ready for your departure, if in the meantime professor morris can arrange to get your passports and your sailing privileges." "it sounds easy," said warren to evelyn. "when do you suppose we will start?" "as soon as the car is ready," said the princess. "get wraps for yourself, warren. the nurse is ready, and she has everything needful for the baby." "oh, warren, be careful, begged evelyn. i declare i have half a mind to go with you!" warren laughed. "i have a whole mind that you will not!" he said, patting her shoulder. "you stay right here and don't go out of the place, and keep father and ivan and elinor where you can see them all the time. and if we are not back by noon tomorrow, don't begin to worry. just lay our delay to a puncture or something of that sort. we won't be molested. the paper from the general is as good as a regiment of men. you had better believe that no one would dare hurt us, or even detain us while i have that to show them." "well, be careful just the same," begged evelyn. "i surely will," promised warren. everything went as smoothly as warren had anticipated. the trip to warsaw was without a hitch. again and again they were stopped by soldiers, and each time the paper from the commanding general acted like magic. indeed, they were more than once assisted on their way, or directed to short cuts. in warsaw it was the same. warren, however, avoided that part of the city where he thought he might come in contact with captain handel, and driving by another route, approached the house of the neighbor who had so kindly taken care of the homeless little waif. the child was safe and well, having suffered less than they had feared from its terrible experience. with a thousand thanks and promises to write, warren left the good, motherly woman and started on the return trip. they slept at an obscure little village that night in peace. the town had been overlooked in the tempest of war, and was untouched. at the inn they found good food and plenty of it. in the morning, when they started, they found every available part of the car crammed with offerings for the wounded soldiers. the chauffeur had spent a busy evening talking to the horrified villagers and it is to be believed that the terrors he had witnessed in lodz and elsewhere did not lose in the telling. so there were all sorts of offerings for the wounded; bread and dried fish and cheese; and money, sometimes gold, sometimes a single kopek wrapped in scraps of paper, written over with heartfelt prayers of pity. there was scarcely room for the passengers to crowd in the car. warren took the wheel, and the chauffeur, still the hero of the occasion, stood on the running board and waved his cap and called his farewells as long as they were in sight. the baby slept most of the time. it was a good baby, and warren began to regard it with less distrust. they reached lodz without accident and as they drew up at the palace, now only a hospital, warren's watch stood at twelve. it had been a wonderful trip. everything was going well. the prince was stronger, and his wife, the beautiful princess, was smiling happily. all that day and the next the professor and the three boys went from office to office and back again to the army headquarters, getting the necessary papers. it was a difficult matter to get everything adjusted, but finally it was done, and there was no longer any reason for them to remain. they said good-bye to the princess and her children, and at last started on the journey home. it was a time to be remembered as long as they lived. all of europe was plunged in gloom. even the neutral countries they touched or crossed in their roundabout way were oppressed by such sorrow that it was almost as bad as war. reaching a seaport at last, they secured passage on a slow american boat, and it was not until they watched the shore receding from their view that they actually believed that they were on the way home. "just the things we have seen coming over from lodz would fill a book," said warren to the group at the rail. "i wouldn't want to read it," said jack, shuddering. "nor i!" said evelyn. "oh, boys, you don't know how funny you look in the clothes you have on!" "what's the matter with my clothes?" said warren, looking down at the very short trousers and very long coat he was wearing. "i don't see but what i am all right, but doesn't jack look cuty-cute? kind of lord fauntleroy effect!" everyone stared at jack, who looked himself over in surprise. "it is all they had at that store we went to that would fit me. i try to turn those pants up, but they keep coming down." everyone laughed as jack stooped and once more tried to turn up the loose trousers which enveloped his slim legs. left to themselves, they reached half way to his ankles, so jack, who was used to knickerbockers, had carefully rolled them to his knee. the result was that most of the time one leg or the other hung dismally down its full length. his jacket was a short roundabout, something like an eton jacket, and his shirt was soft and frilled. "i don't see why we didn't just wear the things we had on," he complained. "i guess not!" said warren. "those work clothes? why, jack, see how dressy we are now! we look like somebody; a bunch of 'em! we have got sample clothes from half the countries in europe. see how neutral that makes us! take yourself, jack. your feet are polish, and your pants are german, and the top of you looks dutch. is it?" "my cap came from home," said jack furiously, "and so did my face! the minute we get out here a way, i am going to yell hurrah for america as loud as ever i can." "wow!" said warren. "excuse me, jack, old fellow, i didn't mean to be disrespectful. we are all in the same fix as far as clothes go. even evelyn looks a little queer. 'all the world is a little queer,' he quoted, 'and thee is a little queer.'" safe on board ship, our party found that they were utterly tired out. they slept hour after hour; they were furiously hungry. the days went swiftly, without accident. professor morris, true to his new resolutions, spent a great part of each day with his children, and they found him a most delightful and amusing companion. he developed an alarming fondness for the baby, which he persisted in calling "him." he was fond of holding the quiet little creature, but after one of his lapses into the forgetfulness of the past, he happened to think of something he wanted to do so he laid his newspaper in evelyn's lap, and before she could stop him placed the baby firmly in a waste paper box head down. after that evelyn watched him. they had brought a young refugee with them as nurse for the baby, so evelyn was not burdened with too much care. the boys played games and made plans and wrote letters. ivan commenced a diary. he said he would never be able to remember every single thing that was happening, and going to happen, and he didn't want to forget it. warren planned to have an evening with the home scouts and tell them all that had occurred. "and you will be exhibit a," he declared, clapping ivan on the shoulder. the voyage drew to an end, as all fortunate voyages will. the last night came clear and fine. there was a stir of joyful anticipation on the great ship. everybody packed up what trifles they had been able to bring away with them. everybody talked and exchanged addresses and said good-bye. the day of landing is always too, full and confused for anything of that sort. once more the professor's manuscript seemed to him to be a thing of value. he picked it up and put it down a thousand times. it was a relief to everyone when the hour grew so late that even the most restless turned in, and went to sleep or at least tried to. at gray dawn ivan was aroused by warren shaking him. "get up, ivan, get up!" he cried. "i can see it!" the boy was shaking violently, and his teeth chattered. "what ails you?" said ivan, speaking in polish. "see what?" warren answered in english. "america. home, the little old united states!" a dry sob choked him. "oh!" he said, "i didn't know i felt like this! hurry up, old scout! dress and let's get out!" voices sounded through the ship; people stirred and hurried with their dressing. it was as though a shock of electricity had stirred them. certainly there had been no spoken call. as the boys hurried to the deck, the risen sun, a ball of gold, blazed like a celestial blessing, a flood of glory on the marvelous shore line ahead. warren rushed forward. but ivan, without a look, turned and made his solitary way to the stern of the ship, and there, all alone, looked away over the empty sea. for long he gazed. his eyes were filled with tears. "good-bye, my father," he said. "good-bye, my country. i will come back to you." he flung his hand out in a passionate gesture of farewell. then with a last look, prince ivan, homeless, countryless, and fatherless, slowly turned, and, the boy ivan went soberly to join warren, who, crazy with joy, hung yelling over the rail at the prow. before them, like the vision of an enchanted land, rose the wonderful shore line of the harbor; and before them, nearer and nearer, clearer and clearer, the statue of liberty, wise, strong, majestic, with the only true majesty of earth on her beautiful brow, the majesty of freedom and of truth. they had reached america. the end note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustration. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) the boy scouts in the rockies or the secret of the hidden silver mine by herbert carter author of "the boy scouts first camp fire," "the boy scouts in the blue ridge," "the boy scouts on the trail," "the boy scouts through the big timber," "the boy scouts in the maine woods." [illustration: a.l. burt company new york] copyright, by a. l. burt company the boy scouts in the rockies. [illustration: the stubborn jack stood, with his sturdy legs braced like steel, while the taut rope told that smithy must be dangling at the other end. _page _ _the boy scouts in the rockies._] the boy scouts in the rockies chapter i. perils of the mountain trail. "how is the cripple crowd coming on these days? hello! step hen, any more snake bites? hope you're not limping with that other leg, now?" "i should say not, thad. but i'm always going to believe you did a lot to keep the poison from getting into my system, when you sucked that wound." "and how about your game limb, giraffe--was it the right, or the left you bruised so badly on the stones when you fell?" "the left one, thad; but thank goodness it's healing up just prime, now. that magic salve did the business in great shape, i tell you." "allan, i notice that you still have a halt once in a while. that old bear trap sure took a nasty grip on your leg, didn't it, though?" "it gave me an ugly pinch, mr. scout master; and only for the fact of the springs being so weak and rusty that the owners had abandoned the trap, i might have been lame for three months. the witch hazel liniment you rubbed on helped a lot." "well, i'm glad to see you're all such a grateful lot, considering the little i was able to do for you. it's sure a pleasure to be patrol leader and assistant scoutmaster to such a wide-awake lot of boys as we have in the silver fox patrol. don't you think so, toby smathers?" thad brewster turned a smiling face upon the sole man of the party, a genuine woods-ranger, such as the government employs to look after the great forest reservations in the region of the rocky mountains, and the coast, away up in the northwest region. "wall, it strikes me they're a purty lively lot of scouts, all right; and lucky at that to hev a leader as leads, and holds the reins tight over 'em. and i'm glad myself to be guide to such a hefty bunch. that's what i'm asayin', mr. scout master," the party addressed replied. outside of the guide there were just eight lads in the party; and from the fact that various parts of their attire suggested the well known khaki uniform which all boy scouts wear, the world around it was evident that these young fellows belonged to such an organization. this was the exact fact, since they had come from far-away cranford in an eastern state, and were known as the silver fox patrol of cranford troop; there being another patrol known as the eagles, mustered in during the late winter. thad brewster was the patrol leader; he was also a first class scout, and had qualified for the position of assistant scout master, receiving his certificate from headquarters many moons before. second in charge came allan hollister, a maine boy, who had had considerable actual experience in wood's life, and to whom the rest of the patrol naturally turned whenever a knotty problem faced them during an outing. the exceedingly fat and good-natured youth was bumpus hawtree, bugler of the troop, even though just now he was minus the instrument on which he was accustomed to sound the various calls, such as "reveille," "assembly," "taps," and so on, the most popular being the second, as it was usually associated with meals. bumpus had been looked upon as the real tenderfoot scout, up to recently; but having become lost in the big timber recently, he had acquitted himself so splendidly, as recorded in the preceding volume, that his mates now regarded him as one who had been keeping his light under a bushel. then there was bob white, otherwise robert white quail, a southern boy, warm of heart, a faithful friend, and upon whom the leader could always depend in emergencies; step hen bingham, whose real name of course was stephen, but upon appearing at school for the first time he had insisted that it was pronounced as though made up of two syllables; davy jones, an athletic lad; giraffe, really conrad, stedman, but given the significant nick-name because of a habit he had of stretching an exceedingly long neck most outrageously; and last but far from least, a dudish looking boy who at home answered when they called him edmund maurice travers smith; but among his playmates he was known simply as "smithy." these boy scouts had seen some pretty lively times during the past year or so, down in the blue ridge mountains of north carolina, where they visited the former home of bob white, and found themselves mixed up with the moonshiners of that wild, inhospitable region; and later on up in maine, where they had gone partly on business for thad's adopted father and guardian, and to enjoy an outing, with a little hunting thrown in. it happened that here among the pine woods of maine, they were instrumental in recovering some valuable bonds and other papers that had been stolen from a bank, and for which a large reward had been offered. with this money in the treasury of the troop, they were able to lay out a great trip to the rocky mountain region for the following summer. as the money really belonged to the eight lads individually, they felt justified in using it in this manner; for the second patrol had only been formed after the cranford boys learned what glorious times the silver foxes were having right along. one guide who had been hired had gone off with a party of big-horn hunters, who lured him with better pay, and the other had been taken down sick; so it came that the boys actually started toward the mountains without a convoy, their tents and camp-duffle being loaded on a couple of comical pack mules known as mike and molly, which animals afforded more or less amusement and excitement from time to time. they had heard of toby smathers, and only good words. in coming to this particular region they had hoped to run across the ranger, and secure him for their service while in the valleys and mountains; for he was said to be patrolling the big timber country, on which some thieving lumbermen were suspected of having set envious eyes. and by great good luck the boys had happened to meet up with toby, after passing through a great variety of thrilling experiences, connected with the hunt for the tenderfoot who had "gone out to find his bear." and as the ranger was able to engage with them for the balance of their stay in the mountains, thad and his companions now felt that they need hesitate no longer, but might strike boldly into the heart of the rockies. they had various objects in wanting to come out to this far distant region. several who had the hunting fever burning in their veins, had sighed for a glimpse of big game, grizzlies and such; then another, who was rapidly being taken with the photographic craze, being davy jones, expressed a wish to snap off wild animals and birds in their native haunts, the famous big horn sheep for instance taking one of his amazing plunges over a precipice; smithy was interested in wild flowers, and had heard great stories concerning the pretty ones that were to be found out here; and then there were several others who yearned for excitement in any shape or style, so long as it thrilled their pulses--which was the natural boy spirit, always feeding on action. some days had passed since the coming of the guide, and the breaking up of the camp at the foot of the noisy rapids, where three of the boys had remained while their companions were off for days, tracking the wandering bumpus. they had started into the mountains, and were at the time this conversation took place surrounded by the wildest scenery that any of them had ever looked upon. the trail led along precipitous paths, often with a wall of rock on one side, and a yawning abyss on the other, down which the boys could look and see trees growing that seemed to be dwarfed, but which the guide assured them were of fairly respectable size. as a rule the scouts were a rollicking set, full of jokes, and even playing innocent little tricks upon each other; but somehow the grandeur of the scenery, as well as the dangers of that mountain trail, rather stilled their spirits. thad had also taken pains to warn them that practical pranks would be out of order during their stay in the mountains. he had heard of several that had turned out tragedies; and wanted to carry no ill tidings home to dear old cranford, when the patrol set their faces that way. step hen had one trait from which nothing ever seemed capable of breaking him. he was exceedingly careless by nature, and forever misplacing things that belonged to him. and the fun of it was, that he could never see how the fault lay with himself; but kept bewailing the misfortune that always picked him out as a victim; just as though some invisible little imp were haunting his footsteps forever, and watching for opportunities to hide his belongings in the most unheard-of places. it did not matter that they were usually found just where step hen had himself dropped them in a moment of absent-mindedness; he would grumble to himself, and observe his companions suspiciously, as though he really believed they had been playing a little joke upon him after all. thad had even lain awake nights, figuring on how the other might be radically cured of this failing; for step hen had many admirable traits of character, and it seemed a great pity that his record as a scout should be marred by so tenacious a fault. but up to the present the scoutmaster had not been able to build up a scheme that promised to effect a cure. and every once in a while the complaining voice of step hen might be heard in the land, wondering "where in sam hill that knife of mine has disappeared to; last time i had it i was mighty careful to put it away in the sheath; and now it's gone like magic. who sneaked it off me, tell me that? funny how it's only _my_ things that disappear all the time. oh! is that it sticking up there in the tree, giraffe? you say you saw me put it there? well, i don't remember the least thing about that. guess you must have been dreaming; but of course i'm glad to find it again. i wish people would use their own knives." perhaps, some time or other step hen might be given a lesson that would make so lasting an impression on him that he would begin to see the absurdity of being careless. thad often felt that he would like to help the good work along, if ever the chance arrived. smithy was more than a little curious in his way. he possessed a kindly nature, too, and had made friends with mike, one of the pack mules. often in the goodness of his heart the dude scout would walk alongside the burden bearer, talking to him, and patting the animal's nose. sometimes mike resented these attentions, for he was only a mule after all, and all scouts looked alike according to his manner of thinking. smithy was walking there now, having the leading rope that was connected with mike in his hand; in fact, he had wrapped it around his wrist absent-mindedly. and as he talked confidingly to the animal, he was also engaged in rubbing mike's nose. twice the mule had plainly given him to understand that he preferred to be let alone while staggering along these mountain trails, bearing that big pack on his sturdy back; but smithy was really thinking about some wonderfully beautiful wild flowers he had seen clinging to the face of a precipice further back, and wishing he might be so lucky as to get hold of such a prize; so that he paid no attention to the impatient thrust from the mule's nose. it happened just then that thad, allan and the guide were in the advance. something engrossed their attention, and they were holding an earnest talk-fest among themselves. had it been otherwise, toby smathers, who knew mule nature like a book, must surely have warned the kindly smithy that mike was in a most irritable frame of mind, and that he would do well to leave him severely alone for the present. behind smithy and mike came davy jones, carrying his little camera, and looking for new worlds to conquer. he had snapped off the procession several times, and of course the mules always occupied posts of honor in the pictures. back of him bob white and step hen were sauntering along, telling stories, and observing things in general; after them came bumpus, puffing and blowing with the exertion; while giraffe brought up the rear, leading the other pack animal, known as molly; and just about as full of tricks as mike ever dreamed of being. thad was in the act of pointing toward the valley, glimpses of which they could obtain from their lofty position, when he heard a tremendous outcry from the rear that gave him a bad shock. turning like a flash, the scoutmaster discovered that one of the patrol was missing. there was no need to ask who it was, for there he saw mike, the pack mule, with his feet pushed out to keep himself from being pulled over the edge of the shelf of rock; while the taut rope told that poor smithy must be dangling at the other end, with an ugly fall threatening him if by chance the rope came loose from his wrist, where he had wrapped it! chapter ii. tidings of the lost mine. "help! help! smithy's tumbled over the edge of the precipice!" that was step hen shouting. he had happened to be the nearest one to the unfortunate scout, when mike gave the other an impatient shove with his nose, that made smithy lose his balance, and topple over the brink. thad never lost a second, but went on the jump toward the spot where the stubborn jack stood, with his sturdy little legs braced like steel, as though determined not to be pulled over just because smithy had stepped off the trail. reaching the spot, thad threw himself down on his face. he could peer over the edge, and see the dangling scout. smithy was squirming at a tremendous rate, doubtless terrified at the sudden mishap that had overtaken him, and which came when he was dreaming of other things. "stop wriggling that way, smithy!" called the patrol leader; "it won't do any good, and may shake the rope loose from your wrist! here, try and get hold with your other hand; and grip it good and fast. we'll have you up in a jiffy, never fear!" "oh! thad!" gasped the poor fellow, whose face was as white as chalk when he turned it appealingly upward; nevertheless smithy had learned the quality of obedience, and particularly when he heard the acting scoutmaster speak; so that almost mechanically he groped around with his free hand until his fingers came in contact with the taut rope, when they closed upon it tenaciously; just as a drowning man will cling to the first thing he clutches that seems to hold out a single ray of hope. "let me help," said a quiet voice close to thad's ear; and he knew that it was allan who spoke--allan, always self-possessed and cool, even in the most trying conditions. thad was only too glad to have an assistant, for he could never have lifted the imperiled lad alone, since smithy was no light weight; and did not know enough to help himself by digging the toes of his boots into crevices of the rocks, so as to ease the terrific strain on his arms. "hold on tight, smithy; it's all right, and you're not going to fall, understand that now. so, up you come, my boy! another pull like that, and we'll sure have you on deck again. easy now with that rope back there; step hen, hold to the mule, and keep him quiet, will you?" thad said all this in a reassuring, matter-of-fact tone, that was better calculated to put confidence into the faint heart of smithy than anything else could. step hen and davy jones caught hold of the obstreperous mike, almost frantic because of these strange carryings-on, and held him tight, so that he might not interfere with the critical work of rescue. and so smithy was finally pulled over the edge. once thad managed to secure a grip of the collar of his scout coat, he knew everything was serene, for that khaki cloth was firm and sound, and capable of bearing almost any strain. the rescued scout sprawled on the shelf, panting hard. his face was still ghastly white, for smithy lacked greatly in fortitude, and needed building up as much as the other tenderfoot, bumpus, had, before his adventures in the big timber, that had gone so far to raise him in the estimation of his chums. "whew! that was a close shave!" exclaimed giraffe, from the rear, where he had been holding on the other mule with more or less difficulty; because, when molly discovered that her mate was in some sort of panic, she also wanted to frisk around, and cut up, after the way of mules in general. step hen and davy jones were poking their heads over the edge, curious to know just what smithy had been saved from. the former turned, and grinned. "guess you might have been bruised some, smithy, if you'd gone on down;" he remarked; "but there's a big shelf that was waiting to grab you, just five feet under your toes. but as you didn't know that, and thought the drop was half a mile, more or less, i don't blame you for feeling shaky about it." smithy recovered sufficiently to insist on crawling to the edge, and also peering over. when he really found that what step hen said was the truth, it seemed to annoy him, strange to say. "now, isn't that provoking," he declared, in his precise way of talking that he had learned from his maiden aunts; "why, if i had only been aware of that circumstance, what an amount of mental suffering it would have saved me. when a fellow gets such a fright as that, he likes to know that it was worth while." the journey was soon resumed; but thad saw to it that some one else besides smithy held the leading rope of the tricky mike. perhaps the mule might never afterwards try the same game; and then again he was liable to break out in a new direction; for there was a little demon in that wicked eye of his, thad thought. already they were on the downward grade. by the time night arrived, the guide hoped they would have reached the lower canyons, where a camp might be made. all of the boys were really tired of climbing about among so many dangerous narrow paths, and would welcome the coming of the time when they could move around without constant danger of being dashed to death over some precipice. none of them claimed to be born mountain climbers. they preferred to take their fun in some other way. when the route changed somewhat in its character, so that the little party could gather more together, an animated conversation broke out. the guide was fairly flooded with questions concerning the country, and what he knew about its past. "i've been all through here many's the time," toby declared, waving a hand to cover the surroundings generally. "and some other fellers, they've jest been fairly hauntin' these regions in years past; but 'twa'n't any use; for they never could find that old mine again." "what's that?" demanded step hen, scenting an interesting item, for he was always on the look-out for such things as seemed to promise a touch of mystery. "a mine; what kind was it, toby; who lost it; and why haven't they been able to find it any more?" asked giraffe, eagerly; while bumpus crowded closer, for he had a little mercenary streak in his make-up, and was keen to discover a chance to lay by another store of hard cash, that might insure a succession of glorious outings for the silver foxes. the guide seemed nothing loth to tell what little he knew. "why, you see, thar was a man named rawson--met him lots of times myself; and one time after he'd been pokin' about in this section, prospectin', he came to greeley with his pockets just bulgin' out with the richest silver ore ever seen. all he'd say was he'd struck a lode that was mighty nigh the pure stuff. then he went away, to try an' get up a company to work his mine, they sez, an' he never kim back. nobody never knowed whatever became of rawson; but heaps of folks has hunted high an' low to find his rich mine. why, thar was that old miner, kunnel john kracker, i jest reckon he spent as much as four months several times up around here, pokin' into the most unlikely places you ever heard tell of. they sez as how he was so dead sot on findin' that same lost silver mine, that he near went dippy over it." "and nobody has ever managed to locate it again, since that day so many years ago; is that what you mean, toby?" asked thad. "so she seems, mr. scout master," replied the other, who always gave thad this full appellation when addressing him. "bumpus, what in the wide world are you chuckling at, back there?" demanded davy jones. "don't you know bumpus enough," laughed allan, "to guess that already he sees the wonderful silver foxes discovering that lost silver mine, and just grabbing handfuls of cash right out of it, to pay the expenses of the next trip--where's it going to be another time, bumpus; down to the gulf, cruising; or along the mexican border; for you know scouts should never go outside the borders of their own country?" "well, why not?" demanded the fat boy, defiantly; "look back at the stunts we've carried through so far, and tell me if it would be so very strange if we just happened to drop in on this old hidden mine of the rockies? luck camps on the trail of the silver fox patrol every time; and i'm ready to shake hands with anything that needs clearing up. you just wait, and see if i'm so far off, that's all." "and just to think of his name being john kracker; now, what boy could ever keep from twisting that around, and calling him a cracker-jack?" chuckled giraffe. "that's a good one, all right," declared the guide, laughing heartily; "and i'm some surprised, i am, that nobody ever thought to put that same on the kunnel afore this. i wish you could aseen him, boys. why, he's as fat as--er----" "you needn't look at me that way, toby," burst out bumpus, instantly, for he was more or less touchy with respect to his size. "i'm taperin' down right along these days. why, i don't reckon i weigh within three pounds as much as i did when we said good-bye to cranford." "and you lost all of that the time you walked and walked for days, huntin' for your bear!" put in davy jones. "well, i got him, all right, didn't i, tell me that?" asked bumpus, proudly, as he patted the double-barreled ten gauge marlin shotgun, which he insisted on carrying across his shoulder, while most of the others were satisfied to secure their guns to the pack saddles. "you sure did," replied davy, willing to give honor where honor was due. "i was jest agoin' to say, the kunnel, he's as fat as all get-out," toby went on, a twinkle in his eye telling how much he really enjoyed these little skirmishes between some of his charges. "but all the same, he's the most energetic critter you ever seen. and temper, say, he's gettin' as red in the face as a turkey buzzard, struttin' around with a chip on its wing, ready for a fight. i 'spect some day the kunnel, he'll jest blow up, and disappear in a cloud of steam. and p'raps after all you might git a chanct to set eyes on him yet; because i heard down at greeley, last time i was thar, that he'd passed through with a couple of fellers, and packs; so it looked like he meant to give that pesky lost mine another whirl, makin' p'raps the fourth time he's been up thisaways." "glad to hear it," spoke up bumpus. "makes it more interesting to know that he's still got some faith in the story of the lost rawson mine. but i'm real sorry for colonel kracker, because he's a back number since the foxes have come to town. if he knows what's good for him he'll go away back and sit down." "it's refreshing just to hear you say that, bumpus," declared allan. "he's just talking for the fun of hearin' himself, that's what?" grumbled step hen. "what sort of chance would we have, a lot of greenhorns who never yet saw a silver mine; against an old-timer like him? for one i'm not going to take any sort of stock in the yarn. like as not it's just one of the thousands of lies that are circulated all through the mining regions. why, i've heard that there are just any amount of wonderful lost mines that never existed, my dad says, except in the mind of some crank. and my dad ought to know, because he owns stock in heaps of mines that was salted dreadful, just to sell to innocent people in the east." "about this rawson who was said to have found the silver lode that was nearly pure," thad remarked, wishing to pick up more information; "what sort of a man was he, toby--you said you used to know him once, i believe?" "a pretty fair an' square sort of a prospector; and they sez as how he was that tickled over his rich find, sayin' that now his fambly could enjy some of the comforts o' life. seems like his fust thought was 'bout them. but i never knowed whar he lived, except that it was somewhar down in utah among the mormons; though to be sure he wasn't belongin' to the plural wife colony, not much. seemed to think all the world 'bout the one wife, and the children he'd got." "then it's too bad poor rawson never lived to profit by his discovery," went on the scoutmaster. "if he'd only been able to hand the key to his find over to his family, they might long ago have come in for a fair share of the profits of the lode. well, bumpus, if, as you seem to believe, in that stubborn way of yours, that the foxes are just _bound_ to tumble into this lost mine, we'll remember, boys, to hunt up the family of rawson, and let them share in our luck. and now, as the afternoon is getting along, we'd better be thinking of hurrying, if we hope to camp in the valley this coming night." they made a little spurt, though it was always next to impossible to hurry those two independent pack animals, as contrary by nature as anything could be. step hen indeed declared they would do well to turn the animals around, and _pretend_ to want to go in the other direction; when mike and molly would keep on backing until they had reached the valley below in good style. the sun was of course out of sight behind the mountainous wall standing like a great barrier in the west, when the little company of scouts finally reached the base of the eastern ridge. "thar's a hunky camp site jest over beyond that bunch of trees, boys;" the guide announced; "plenty of good drinkin' water for man, an' beast too. so let's head that way. reckon you-all must be some tired with that long trip in acrost the range." five minutes later, and they drew up at the spot, which thad immediately saw was just the place for pilgrims to pass a night. "hello! there's been a fire here!" exclaimed giraffe, always on the lookout for anything that pertained to a blaze; for he was the greatest fire worshipper ever known. the guide flung himself down beside the ashes, and felt of them; while the scouts waited to hear what his report would be. "somebody camped here jest last night," declared the forest ranger, quickly; "and like as not 'twar that ole kunnel kracker an' his party, bound to comb these mountains onct more, lookin' for the lost silver mine!" chapter iii. the letters of fire on the cliff. "now, how'd he know that, allan? d'ye reckon he tells the same way you would?" asked step hen, immediately interested. some of the others had seen the maine boy do various "stunts" along the line of woodcraft, on previous occasions; and among others he had been able to tell just about how many hours previous a fire had been abandoned, by the "feel" of the ashes, as giraffe always declared. "pretty much the same, i suppose, step hen," replied the other, pleasantly, for allan, being one of the officers of the patrol, was always glad to find any of the scouts interested in picking up information; and never refused to assist to the best of his ability. toby was examining the ground around the ashes with those snapping eyes of his, small in point of size, but capable of taking in every point going. "how d'ye suppose he did do it?" persisted step hen, who was very determined, once he had set his mind on anything--stubbornness some of his camp-mates called it. "oh! there are ways easier to grasp in your mind than explain," allan remarked. "you just _seem_ to know a thing. some hidden instinct tells you, i might say. you feel a deadness in the ashes that's different from fresh ones. and then the looks tell you whether the dew has fallen on them or not. in this case toby, i reckon, has found out that they seem mighty fresh; and so no night has passed since the last spark of fire died out. there are other ways of telling about how many nights ago it may have been made, if an old one. but you ought to make a practice of studying these things connected with fires, giraffe, instead of being always wanting to make fresh blazes. you'd find the matter mighty interesting, and worth while, i give you my word." "say, that gives me an idea!" exploded the tall scout; "and mebbe i will. just as you say, allan, everybody's getting sore on me for wanting to always build fires and fires, _and_ fires. i've been able to start 'em every which way, from flint and steel, to twirling a stick with a bow, after the style of them south sea islanders; and like old alexander i'm cryin' for new worlds to conquer. well, here they are, just like you say; and connected with fires too; right in my line, so to speak. thank you for giving me the tip, allan; i'm sure goin' to think it over." "thank goodness!" exclaimed step hen, fervently. "now, what d'ye say that for?" demanded giraffe, taking umbrage at once. "if ever you devote your colossal mind to the job of seeing how many ways fires can be _put out_, instead of started, the rest of us'll have a chance to get some decent sleep nights; because we won't be always afraid of the woods burnin' up with your crazy experiments," and step hen moved a little further away from his chum as he said this, not knowing how giraffe might take it. but the tall scout, after meditating over the matter for part of a minute only remarked indifferently: "oh! that's all right, step hen; you've got your faults too, and big ones in the bargain. ask bumpus here if my faculty for makin' fires didn't save us from a whole peck of trouble that time up in maine when we found ourselves lost, a cold night comin' on, two partridges shot, and not a single match in the crowd to start a fire to cook the game and keep us from freezing stiff. he knows." "that's right," declared the fat scout, instantly, and with a fond look toward giraffe, as memories of the occasion referred to came trooping into his mind, so that he could almost smell the odor of those cooking birds, thrust near the delightful fire on the points of long splinters of wood. meanwhile the guide had come back to where the little party began to make preparations for the night, the packs having been taken from the backs of mike and molly, and everybody finding something to do in the bustle. "get anything?" asked thad, as toby smathers came up, a grin decorating his sunburnt but honest face. "oh! it was the kunnel, all right," replied the guide. "i knows the mark o' his hoof among a thousand. an' he's got them two pizen sharks along o' him, waffles and dickey bird. they been kicked out of nigh every camp in the silver region, but they just about suit the ijee of the kunnel, when he wants any dirty work done." "and that's what you call finding the long lost silver mine, do you?" asked the scoutmaster, smiling. "well, accordin' to the ijee of most decent miners, that same rawson had the first claim on that ere mine; and any feller that rediscovers it ought to turn a third of the proceeds over to the fambly of the man as got thar first. but you don't ketch kunnel kracker doin' any such foolish business as that. he'd gobble the whole business, and snap his finger at the widow and orphans. but they's one thing i don't just exactly understand about the marks hereabouts. seems to be a boy along with the gang. now, whatever could such an old seasoned prospector and miner as kracker want with a half grown boy up in this part of the country, when he's huntin' for a mine that seems to have dropped out of sight, like it fell through to china? that's what gets _me_." "perhaps it might be an indian boy; we had a glimpse of such a half grown brave skulking along, one day. he seemed to want to count noses in our crowd the worst kind, and we wondered if he meant to steal anything; but after a while he just cut stick and cleared out, looking a lot disappointed over something. giraffe here tried to get close enough to him to speak, but he was that shy he kept moving off all the time. we thought he might have expected to see somebody he knew among us, a boy perhaps, and when he found that we were a pack of strangers he didn't want anything more to do with us." "this wa'n't any red-skinned boy, but a white," toby declared, positively. "an injun would a toed-in, and wore moccasins; but he had on shoes, and turned his toes out, all right, civilized way. but then, just as you say, p'raps it don't matter a row of beans to us who he was. we may run acrost 'em sooner or later; and again mebbe we won't." when the two tents were in position it began to look "jolly much like a camp," as step hen declared. the mules were allowed to graze on the little tufts of grass that grew in spots around, where there was enough earth to allow of such a thing. close by was an occasional stunted tree, from which the boys easily secured all the firewood that was apt to be needed. and how genial that blaze did look in the coming night, as it shone upon the tents, the smiling faces of the scouts, and the general surroundings, so wild and lonely. "looks like we owned the whole world," remarked bumpus, "when you just squint around, and see the old rockies towerin' up to the right and to the left, behind and before. say, this is what we've been lookin' forward to a long time, ain't it, fellers?" bumpus seemed to be happier over the situation than any of the others. really, it was queer how deep an interest the stout youth had always taken in this trip to the wild northwest. he it was who first suggested the same, and on every occasion he had fostered the idea. up in maine, when they first heard about that rich reward offered for the recovery of the missing valuables that had been stolen from a bank, bumpus had been the one to declare that they ought to recover them, so as to have plenty of funds in the treasury, to pay the expenses of a grand trip to the backbone of the continent, those glorious mountains which he saw so often in his day dreams, and yearned so much to visit. of course, by this time every one of his chums had become filled with enthusiasm also, and there was no faint answer to this question on the part of bumpus. pretty soon supper was started, and that was a time when the scouts began to be more or less restless. tired as they might be, when the delicious odors permeated the outermost limits of the camp, no one seemed able to sit still. the fact of the matter was that they were ravenously hungry, and it was tantalizing to get the "smell" of the cooking, with the knowledge that it would be at least half an hour ere they could begin to satisfy their appetites. any one who knows the make-up of average boys, understands that. "i wouldn't like to be caught in parts of this valley, in a cloud-burst," davy jones remarked; "i've been alookin' around some, and there's signs that tell of floods long ago. guess a feller'd have hike some, to get away if a wall of water came whirlin' down here." "but the hunting ought to be fine, don't you think, toby?" asked step hen, who had begun to have aspirations to equal the record of several of his comrades; and more than once declared that nothing less than a big-horn rocky mountain sheep would satisfy his ambition. "i c'n just think i see the jumpers playin' leap-frog up along some of the cliffs that stand out against the sky yonder." "we'll find sheep, sooner or later, all right," asserted the guide, who was engaged in cutting wood for the fire; and more than that he would not say, being a man of words rather than big promises. "look at giraffe, would you?" remarked step hen. "he just can't quit playin' with fire all the time." "what's he doing now?" asked thad, with a laugh, and not bothering to look up; for it happened that just then he was making some notes in his log book, fearing lest they slip his mind, if he waited until after supper. "oh! he's got a firebrand, and standing out there in the dark he's doing all sort of queer stunts! with it--whirling it around several times; then movin' it up and down, quick like; after which he crosses it horizontally a few times. why, just to look at him you'd think he was sending a message like we do with the wigwag flags in the day time." "well, that's just what giraffe is pretending to do, right now," said thad, after he had taken one quick look. "only instead of using flags, he's taking a light to make the letters with. giraffe is a pretty good hand at heliograph work and all kinds of wigwagging, you know. i've talked with him by means of a piece of looking glass, on a sunshiny day, more than a mile away; and we managed to understand each other first-rate. leave giraffe alone, step hen. he's a nervous scout, you understand, and has to work off his steam some way. there couldn't be any better than brushing up his morse code, i think." "huh! p'raps you're right," grunted the other; "but it does beat all, how giraffe, always finds satisfaction in playing with fire." "there's one good thing, about it these days," ventured davy jones. "what might that be, suh?" asked the southern boy, bob white, looking up; for he was assisting to get supper ready. "why, we don't have to be afraid of giraffe setting the woods on fire any more. it'd take a job bigger'n he could manage to get a fire goin' in this rocky valley," and step hen laughed as he said this; for indeed, the sparse and stunted trees that grew at intervals along the sides of the mountains did not seem to offer much encouragement to a would-be incendiary. "how much longer do we have to wait for grub?" asked bumpus, sighing dismally. "what's that to you?" demanded giraffe, from outside the limits of the camp proper; he having heard the plaint. "if you went without a bite for a week, sure, you could live on your fat, bumpus; but think of _me_. why, in two days' time my back-bone'd be rubbing up against my front ribs; and in another they would have a riot. i've got a space to fill all the time. please hurry up, fellers. somebody blow the fire, and make it cook faster, won't you?" "you might be doing the same, giraffe, 'stead of wastin' all your surplus energy aswipin' the empty air out there," called out step hen disdainfully, and yet with a slight touch of envy in his voice; for, truth to tell, he aimed to equal the proficiency of the lanky scout in the signal line. so they went on exchanging remarks, as the minutes dragged slowly past, each seeming more like an hour to the half-starved boys. in vain did those who were doing the cooking tell them to keep their eyes anywhere but on the fire, because "a watched pot never boils." but by slow degrees the supper was nearing readiness. bumpus was even making his mouth give signs of his eagerness to begin; and some of the others had even taken up their tin platters hoping to be helped first, when giraffe suddenly came jumping into camp, wildly excited. thad looked up from his writing, half expecting to see him followed by a savage mountain wolf, or possibly a full-grown grizzly bear; but to his astonishment the boy who carried the burning fagot of wood cried out as well as he could in his great excitement: "thad--allan--look! look! somebody's making wigwag letters with a blaze like mine, away up yonder on the face of that high cliff; and i could read it, sure i could! and thad, oh! what do you think, it keeps on sayin' the same thing over and over all the time, aspellin' out the one word: 'help! help! help!'" the scoutmaster jumped to his feet instantly, ramming the note book deep down in his pocket as he grasped giraffe eagerly by the arm, exclaiming: "come and show me what you mean! i hope you haven't mistaken a star for a torch!" chapter iv. the torch talk. every one of the scouts was on his feet by this time, even fat bumpus managing to struggle erect with the rest. and strange to say, the supper that was just about to be dished out was for the time being utterly swallowed up in this new and thrilling excitement. they trooped after thad and giraffe, the latter still hanging on to his blazing torch. toby was left alone by the fire; but after making sure that the supper was in no danger of burning up, the cool, level-headed guide followed his charges over to the spot where giraffe had happened to be standing, when he noticed the odd signals from up on the face of the cliff. "where is it right now, giraffe?" demanded davy jones. "nothin' doin'!" added step hen, in disgust. "now what d'ye think of that? the feller had his own eyes blinded by whirling his old blaze around so much, that he just _thought_ he glimpsed another light up there. say, p'raps thad hit the thing on the head when he mentioned a star. like as not now, giraffe, he just saw one peepin' over the top of the mountains at him, and thought it winked. well, this takes the cake; and all that fine supper gettin' cold while we're gaping out here. it's a burnin' shame, that's what it is. me for the fire again." "wait!" said thad, in that tone of authority that always found ready respect from the scouts under him; it was the scoutmaster, and not their chum, who spoke, whenever thad used that very stern voice. "give you my word for it, thad, i saw it again and again," giraffe went on, as if he felt that his veracity as a scout was hanging in the balance. "point out the exact place," said thad, promptly. "i can do it all right, and don't you forget it, step hen," declared the tall scout, eagerly; and accordingly, raising his torch, he held it stationary at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees. "right there she was, thad; and if you look close now, p'raps you c'n see a sorter glow like," he went on, again showing excitement. "i believe i do," replied thad. "here, give me that torch of yours, giraffe." "what are you goin' to do, thad?" asked the other, even while he complied with the request, which was in the shape of a command. "try and see if i can get a raise again." as thad said this he started to wave the torch in several ways. now he lifted it and lowered it rapidly; then it went out at an angle; and followed with several circles, or possibly a diagonal dash. and giraffe saw that he was spelling out the word: "hello!" eagerly they waited to see the result. as the last letter was formed, and the wind-up sign made to indicate the message had been completed, to the astonishment of most of the boys there was a sudden response. away up on the face of what seemed to be a high cliff a light appeared, and began to cut strange figures and lines in the air, as an arm swung it to and fro. and thad, as he started to read the letters, realized that whoever it might be trying to get in communication with those in the valley, he certainly knew his morse code all right; indeed a regular telegrapher and wigwag artist belonging to the signal corps of the united states army could hardly have shown more proficiency in the business. regularly then, without a hitch, the fiery finger outlined against the dark background spelled out the significant word: "help!" thad read each letter aloud, for the benefit of those among the scouts who, not being so well along in the work, might have some difficulty in following those wizard flashes to and fro, up and down, and around. "just like i said, ain't it, thad?" breathed giraffe, as if he felt that his reputation, assailed by step hen, had been fully vindicated; but the scoutmaster did not bother answering his question, since he had his mind wholly bent upon solving the mystery of the mountains. again he started making erratic movements with the torch he gripped in his right hand; and the staring giraffe read what the patrol leader was saying to the unknown party perched aloft. "what is the matter?" then the light appeared again, and it seemed as though the other might purposely be keeping it concealed between messages; and back came the startling answer, which thad spelled aloud as it was sent: "in trouble--come up--help me!" "great governor! what d'ye suppose ails him?" exclaimed giraffe, seldom being able to keep a still tongue in his head, especially when excited very much; and just then he was quivering all over with nervous eagerness to solve the mystery. "somebody bring me another stick from the fire," said thad; "this one is getting burnt out. giraffe, you go, because you'll know what kind i want better than any of the others." giraffe might have felt like rebelling, because he hated the worst kind to lose a single word of that mighty interesting exchange of signals; but thad, as usual, had been wise enough to coat the order with a little subtle flattery that served as oil to lubricate matters. since none of the other scouts could be trusted to select the right kind of torch necessary for signaling purposes, why, of course giraffe must sacrifice all other personal desires, for the common good. and so he walked toward the fire, though most of the time that long neck of his kept "rubbering" backward, so as to give him something of a chance to see what came next on the programme. "who are you?" thad waved upward, each letter being clear and distinct; for the scout leader knew the folly of running them into one another, and confusing the receiving end of the battery. "aleck rawson!" when thad had spelled this out, various exclamations arose from the boys. "rawson--why, that was the name of the man who found the silver mine up in this country, wasn't it, toby?" cried davy jones, voicing the thought that had flashed into the mind of every boy just then. "it sure was," replied the guide. "can this be him, then; has he been a prisoner all these years?" gasped smithy; at which there was a scornful laugh from the others. "his name wa'n't aleck; near as i kin remember 'twas jerry," said toby. "p'raps, suh, he had a son?" suggested bob white. "just what i was going to remark," added allan, eagerly. the intelligence that had come to them in that last reply had created a sensation among the scouts. indeed, even thad was so astonished that for the moment he could not find words in which to continue the interesting conversation by fire. then his torch expired. "hurry giraffe, and fetch me that other light!" he called; but there was hardly any need of saying this, because the party in question was already advancing by kangaroo-like leaps, covering ground in a manner simply miraculous. "what was that last he said?" he demanded, and step hen made haste to answer, partly because he wanted to stagger the tall scout; and then perhaps he realized that giraffe would really give them no peace until he was told: "said his name was aleck rawson--remember what toby told us about the man who found the mine long years ago! well, this might happen to be his boy, we think." "keep still! thad's going to talk some more!" grumbled bumpus. again did the fire signaling go on; and the new torch selected by the expert giraffe proved even better that the one that had burned out. letter by letter did thad send a long message, and allan spelled it out as it progressed; so that by the time it was completed every one knew just what had been flashed upward toward the unseen receiving party above. "can we get up to where you are?" now the fiery finger in the darkness began to write an answer; every letter was plainly carried out, so that not in a signal instance did thad "trip up" as he read it aloud. "yes, but come quick--bring rope--might fall any minute!" "i bet you he's hanging on to a little narrow shelf of rock!" declared bumpus. "but if he is, how in the dickens could he get the fire to signal with; that's what bothers me?" muttered giraffe. "where are you?" signaled the scoutmaster, promptly, thinking to get all the information possible while the chance remained. "on a ledge part way down the cliff," answered the one who had said his was aleck rawson. "how did you get there?" went on thad. "lowered here, and left to die like a dog," came the stunning answer. "did you ever hear the equal of that?" cried out bumpus. "now what sort of people could ever be guilty of such a horrible thing as that, i'd like to know?" "oh!" remarked the guide, "they's a heap of bad men around these parts, i tell ye; but i got a notion i kin see through a board that's got a knot-hole in it. ask him who put him there, mr. scout master, please?" thad would have done this, even though toby had not spoken; indeed, he was even then about to start putting the question. "who put you there?" "colonel knocker did--will you come and get me?" "the old villain!" gasped bumpus. "he ought to be tarred and feathered for such a wicked piece of work. what d'ye suppose he did it for? i wonder now, if this same aleck rawson could know anything about the secret of that hidden mine; and cracker-jack john just wants to torture him till he tells?" "that sounds like it, bumpus; you're good at guessing things, after all," remarked step hen. "keep still, back there; thad's sending another message!" warned giraffe. and in his steady way, the scoutmaster went on to flash back the reassuring words: "yes, we will come to you. hold on! it may take us some time. start right away!" "thank you!" came from above, and then the light that had moved backward and forward, up and down, and around in eccentric circles, vanished, as though with that last word the torch, if that was what it was, had been exhausted. but at least it had served long enough to bear a startling message to the boys of the silver fox patrol, camping there in the valley of the great rockies. "now what?" exclaimed the impatient giraffe. somehow, not one of them gave the waiting supper a single thought just then; for this new and exciting diversion had made them utterly forget such a thing as being hungry. "i want several of you to go along with me," said thad; "toby for one, because of his strong arms, in case we have to do any lifting; also giraffe; and allan, perhap you'd like to be in the party also?" "i certainly would," declared the maine boy instantly; "if you think i can be spared from the camp." "oh!" said thad, "they'll get on all right here, because every fellow will be put on his honor not to stray away from the fire while we're gone. bumpus, please let me have that rope you carry with you. it's proved valuable several times already, and may come in all right again." bumpus had a very queer idea, in that he persisted in carrying a thin, braided rope wrapped around his body. it was of the sash cord species, slender, but extra strong. bumpus had seen the great need of a rope once or twice, and made up his mind that he would never be without one, when abroad in the woods or wilderness. and it had proven useful to him too; in fact, but for its possession bumpus might not have been there, so blithe and happy, at that very moment. having unfortunately become mired in a slimy mudhole when lost in the big timber, he was slowly sinking on account of his desperate efforts to get out, when he happened to notice the convenient limb of a tree just a couple of feet over his head; and remembering his rope, he had thrown it, doubled, over the same; and by making a tremendous spurt, managed to drag his feet out of the sucking mud, climbing to safety. and of course after that nothing could ever induce the fat scout to think of abandoning that precious rope. so he started to unwind it now; and as if this might be a signal for some of the boys to assist, they seized hold of bumpus, pulling at the rope, until they had him whirling around in a dizzy fashion, protesting all the while, but without any avail. finally the rope was wholly unwound, and bumpus found himself sitting there on the ground, with the stars waving in all sorts of queer circles over his head, for he felt as "rocky" as though he had been indulging in strong drink. "but be _aw_ful careful of that rope, won't you, thad?" he managed to call out, as the scoutmaster started to coil it up for carrying. "i certainly will, bumpus," replied the other; "and thank you for the loan of it. come on, those who are going with me; take your guns along, even if we don't find any use for them. and say, you fellows in camp, save our share of supper for us, remember!" chapter v. taking father's place. "must be nearly up at the top now, thad." it was giraffe who said this. the little party of four, thad; toby, the guide; giraffe, and allan, had been climbing upwards steadily for more than an hour now; and even the long-legged scout was beginning to pant more or less from the exertion. having been through the valley more than once before, toby smathers had been able to take them along the trail that led up the other side. often they would have been at a loss just how to proceed only for his superior knowledge. and then the moon had risen too, which meant considerable in the way of light; for topping the other range, it shed its brilliant illumination on the side of the elevation the scouts were now mounting so bravely. "how about it, toby?" asked the patrol leader, wishing to satisfy his own curiosity, as well as please giraffe. "right thar, now, and arter this we ain't goin' to have much climbin'. but you-all want to be keerful 'bout goin' too clost to the edge. that drop is all of three hundred feet, i reckons," the guide made answer. "and think of those sharks aleavin' that boy part way down the face of that awful precipice!" said giraffe, gritting his teeth in a way he had of doing when he wished to let everybody know just how mad he was. "it's taken a whole hour for us to climb up here," remarked thad; "and we can hardly count on getting back to the camp in less than another, even if things go right with us." "well, wasn't i wise, then, in sayin' we had ought to snatch up some grub, to bite at on the way?" declared giraffe, triumphantly. "i reckon, now, i'd never a been able to a dumb up this far, if i hadn't kept nibblin' away at the stuff they handed us when we was startin' out. and there's more awaitin' for us after we get back, which i take it is a lucky thing; because my appetite keeps on growin' all the while, what with this tough climb." on the way of course the three scouts had indulged in all sorts of speculations concerning the cause of colonel kracker treating the son of jerry rawson in such a scurvy way. and after the subject had been thoroughly discussed, it seemed to be the consensus of opinion that the boy must possess some map, or at least some knowledge concerning the location of the hidden mine, which the money-mad prospector, whose one idea in life nowadays seemed to be the discovery of this rich silver lode, was trying to force him to give up. "anyhow," giraffe had declared, with conviction in his voice, "i give you my word now, that aleck's been a boy scout, some time or other; because he wouldn't a known how to wigwag that clever way if he hadn't." thad had come to the same conclusion some time before; and somehow the idea gave him more or less satisfaction. how often was it being made patent that the very fact of a boy taking up with the scouts might prove one of the most valuable assets he could possess. if the boy on the ledge--for they insisted on believing that this aleck rawson _must_ be a fellow of perhaps their own age--had not known how to communicate by means of the telegraphic code, he might have had considerably greater difficulty in letting them know of his predicament, and asking for immediate assistance. of course, there were plenty of knotty things that none of them pretended to be able to explain; but then thad felt sure all would be made clear, once they had drawn the other up from his dangerous position on that ledge, down along the face of the precipice, that had been a cliff when they were below it. now and then they would come to a pause, it being necessary that the guide take an observation, in order to locate their position. he had several ways for doing this, and thad, as well as allan, understood enough about them to know that toby was "making good." it was all so much greek however to giraffe, who fretted considerably because there was any delay, the need of which he could not understand. but in the end the guide announced that he believed they must now be about over the identical spot from which the fire signals had come. a dark void down below told where the great valley lay. the moon, about in the full now, was hanging there just above the opposite range, and lighting up their wild surroundings. "seems to me we ought to see him, if he's still there?" grumbled giraffe, just as though he meant to hint that if the imperiled boy had lost his hold, and fallen, it would be partly because they had been so slow in getting there. "perhaps we may," replied thad, as toby crawled to the edge to peer over; "but it wouldn't surprise me if we found that the face of the precipice backed in, and that would keep us from sighting the ledge, or any one on it." "looky! there's toby beckonin' to us. come on, fellers!" and the eager giraffe started to move toward the edge of the descent. knowing that giraffe was inclined to be reckless in his haste, thad kept close beside him, and whispered words of warning. "slow now, giraffe," he said; "be careful, because we wouldn't like to have you take a plunge down there. you'd never know what hurt you, if you did." thus warned the other did slow up a little; but quickly they all reached a position where they could stretch their necks, and look over. the moonlight fell on the face of the precipice. they could even see away down near the base, where the sharp rocks that had fallen during countless years in the past were piled up in ugly masses. just as thad had remarked, if any one did have the hard luck to fall over, he would never know what hurt him. "it does slant in below, thad!" said giraffe, the first thing. "yes, and we've got to call out to learn whether he's there or not," returned the scoutmaster; then raising his voice a little he said: "hello! aleck, are you here?" immediately they heard an exclamation of delight, and then came a reply: "yes, yes, and right underneath you too, i think. have you got a rope along with you?" "just what we have; and i hope it's going to be long enough," replied thad. "then quick, tie a stone to the end, and lower away. when you have got it down opposite to me, give a swing in and out. i can take hold easy enough, if you do that," came from below, in the eager tones of one in whose heart new hope had taken lodgment. thad lost no time in fastening on a piece of stone, after which he started to lower away, all the while listening, hoping to hear a cry that the stone had gone down far enough. as he was getting perilously near the end of the rope, his heart had begun to misgive him, when suddenly came a hail: "hold on! that is far enough! now, keep a tight grip up there!" "get hold with me, the rest of you," said thad, allowing the guide to be first; for he wished to take as much advantage of toby's great strength as possible, when it came time for the hard pulling. thad started to swing the rope inward and outward, as he had been directed. a minute later, and the one below called again: "there, i've got it, all right; and i find you were smart enough to make a loop for my foot. tell me when you're ready, and i'll let loose down here. it'll be a heavy load; and i hope you won't let the rope slip through." looking down at the dim vacancy far below thad felt that the other had some reason for feeling a trifle worried over the possibility of an accident; so he hastened to reassure aleck. "four of us have hold here, and one is a strong man; so don't believe anything is going to happen to you, aleck. tell us when you're going; it's all right up here with us." "then i'm off!" with the words they felt a sudden heavy strain, and knew that the speaker had allowed himself to swing clear of the ledge, as he suggested he would do. "careful now, everybody!" warned cautious thad; "there's no hurry about it; and we don't want to knock him to hard against the face of the wall. easy, giraffe, rome wasn't built in a day; and slow makes sure, sometimes. this is one of them." while thad was speaking in this manner, he lay close to the edge of the abyss, so he could guide the rope, and avoid letting it be cut by any sharp stone; and at the same time watch out below. foot by foot did the guide, assisted by the two scouts, draw the imperiled one upward. presently thad could see him plainly below, swinging a little, turning around also, but always coming closer and closer. he was reminded somewhat of smithy's little adventure on the preceding day; only in his case there had been really very little danger, although at the time the poor fellow had not known but that a thousand feet of space lay below him, rather than a beggarly five, as was later on discovered. now thad could stretch out a hand, and touch the other. "slower still; he's right here, boys!" he cautioned. then he got a grip himself, and held on. giraffe came to his assistance; while allan and the guide continued to grip the rope. one supreme effort, in which the one they were saving did his part; and then aleck rawson climbed alongside his young rescuers, panting hard with the exertion he had been through. giraffe felt like giving a shout; but somehow he knew thad would frown on any such demonstration. when scouts were in a region where danger of any kind might be expected to lurk, "discretion must take the part of valor, and noise be utterly prohibited." he could distinctly remember the patrol leader saying just those very words, and not so long ago, either. so the explosive giraffe had to bottle up his enthusiasm for another occasion, when the cork might safely be removed. the scouts had already discovered that in one thing they guessed truly; for aleck rawson did prove to be a boy, about the size of thad, and possibly in the neighborhood of sixteen years of age. he was beginning to get back his breath now, and even moved a little further away from the edge of the precipice, as though it possessed only terrors for him. nor could thad blame him in the least; for it must have been frightful torture to be left all alone on a narrow shelf of rock, where he could not have any too good a foothold at the best, and might slip off if, overpowered by exhaustion, he dared allow himself to lose consciousness in sleep. presently, when the other had recovered his wind, he might offer to tell them what it all meant; and just why that vindictive old prospector and miner, colonel kracker, had dared place a boy in such a position of peril; for it seemed a monstrous proceeding in the mind of the scoutmaster. now the boy was moving. the first thing thad knew, a hand clutched his in a warm, fierce clasp, and he heard aleck saying: "oh! how can i ever thank you for getting me out of that scrape?" "i wouldn't try it, then," replied thad, laughing softly. "why, we're only too glad to have the chance. it's been an experience to remember, too; the talk with the torches, the climb up the face of the mountain, and then hauling you up safe and sound. we're boy scouts, out looking for adventure, and doing a little hunting; and this has all been just great, for us." "but think what it's been for me?" said the other, with a quiver in his voice, although he tried very hard to disguise it. "my poor mother and little sisters came nearer to losing their man of the house, than i'd like them to know; because, you see, i've just had to try and take my father's place ever since he died." "your father, then, was jerry rawson, i take it?" said thad. "yes, that was his name," answered the other, who had gone over and shaken hands with the guide, with giraffe, and finally with allan, in each instance giving a convulsive squeeze to their hands in a way that told more eloquently than words could have ever done what intense gratitude filled his boyish heart. "the original discoverer of the wonderful silver mine that has never been located since that time, so long ago?" thad went on. "then you _do_ know about that?" aleck remarked, quickly; "i was wondering, seeing that you must be strangers around these regions, whether you had heard." "our guide, tony smathers here, told us; he used to know your father; and he said there was a family located somewhere down in utah," the scoutmaster continued. "my mother, and three small sisters; the youngest was a baby when he died," aleck went on to say, as though he realized that explanations from him must now be in order, since these boys had done so much for him; and besides, even though they were next door to strangers to him, some sort of free masonry within seemed to tell aleck that they were going to prove the best friends he had ever known. "do you feel able to walk with us down into the valley to our camp?" thad asked. "i should say i did, and be only too glad into the bargain!" exclaimed the other, his voice filled with delight. "and while we're going i want to tell you just how it came that i was on that horrible little shelf of rock, placed there by colonel kracker, who said i would never leave it alive unless i gave up to him the secret of my father's hidden silver mine. and he promised to come up there above me every day, to ask me if i was ready to throw up the sponge. but i'd have died there before i played the coward, and told him what he wanted; for how could i ever look my mother and sisters in the face again, if i saved my useless life by selling out their mine to that cruel and hateful man?" chapter vi. backed by the silver fox patrol. "hurrah for you, aleck!" exclaimed giraffe, unable to repress his feelings any longer. thad himself felt just as full of enthusiasm over the brave manner in which this son of jerry rawson had defied the man whose one desire in life now seemed to be the discovery and confiscation of the rich mine that had eluded his eager fingers for so many years; but he knew better how to repress his delight. they were starting along the top of the precipice now. toby leading the way, and every now and then turning his head, to warn them of a particularly risky place. thad had made sure to coil up that precious rope belonging to generous bumpus, and which had so frequently proven to be worth its weight in gold. never again would giraffe laugh at the queer conceit of the fat scout in connection with the carrying of that window-sash cord. as the going was so difficult, and as a rule they were strung out in single file, thad thought that it would be just as well to defer all explanations until they had arrived safely in camp. besides, that course would save aleck from going over things twice; since those who were not present would naturally be just as anxious to hear the particulars as they were. so they spent all the time in making sure that they did not lose their footing, and take ugly tumbles; for the way was very steep, and the moonlight, after all, rather treacherous to depend upon wholly. thad figured, from the clock in the heavens which he knew how to read so well, (figuring on the position of the moon, and the multitude of stars, from sirius, and the blazing belt of orion, the hunter, in the northeast; to bright venus in the west, now just about to vanish behind the mountain ridge,) that they had been gone all of two hours, when once more they approached the burning fire. they could see some of the scouts around the blaze, and as they drew near, the voice of davy jones called out sternly: "halt! who goes there?" "friends!" replied thad, carrying out the humor of the thing. "advance friends, and give the countersign!" the sentry demanded. "silver fox patrol!" replied the scoutmaster, continuing to stride forward, and closely followed by all the others of the returning party. "did you get him, thad?" asked davy, instantly allowing his boyish curiosity to over-ride all soldierly qualities. "that's what we did; and he's here with us, as hungry as they make them," replied the patrol leader. "oh! i only hope you kept lots of grub; i'm that hungry i c'n hardly walk," declared giraffe. "after snatching all you did too, when you went off?" complained step hen. "but think what we've done since, will you?" argued the tall scout, as he pushed into camp, and hastened to settle down in a good spot, with the air of one who naturally anticipated being waited on by his chums. "well, we cooked a lot more," smithy hastened to remark; "because, you see, we just calculated that you would be fairly ravenous, after your exertions. and so this is aleck rawson; delighted to meet you; my name is----" "cut that out; we call him plain smithy!" broke in step hen; "and i'm step hen bingham. the fat feller is bumpus hawtree; this other is bob white; while the one who gave you that challenge is davy jones. he'll shake hands with you by offering one of his feet, because he's standing on his head about as much as the other way." and aleck went around, shaking hands heartily. plainly they could see that he was more than delighted to meet with such a hearty reception; and just when it seemed as though he needed friends the worst kind. so the newcomers were quickly waited on, and found that a bountiful supply of supper had indeed been prepared against their coming, and by boys who knew what a mountain appetite meant, too. by degrees those who had been left in camp were told just how the rescue had been effected; and then aleck started in to tell something about his experiences. "i live with my mother and sisters in a town called logan, down in the northern part of utah. my father died several years ago, when i was a little shaver. he had just come back home, and told us he had struck it rich, and we would never want again, when he was taken down with a fever; and after being sick a week, he died. the last thing he did in his delirium was to press a little pocket looking glass, with a cracked front, into my hands, and close my fingers on it, like he wanted me to keep it. and we thought it was just imagination that made him do it, and that perhaps he believed he was giving me all the money he saw in his wild dreams. "well, as the years went along, i used often to look at that little mirror, just a couple of inches across, and think of my father. we never could find anything among his traps to tell us where the mine he had discovered was located. more'n a few times this here colonel kracker would visit us, and tell my mother what a big thing it would be, if only she could find some little chart or rude map among my father's things, to be sort of a clew to the lost mine; but though she searched, and i looked again and again, we just couldn't. "and one day, would you believe it, somebody broke into our cottage while we were all out, and stole everything belonging to my father, from his six shooter and gun, to the old tattered knapsack that he used to carry, when he was prospecting for pockets of rich ore, or pay dirt anywhere along the creeks." "the old snake!" muttered step hen; for of course every one of them guessed who must have been responsible for this robbery of the widow's home. aleck went on. "and one day, it was only a month ago, as i was sitting there, fiddling with that same little pocket mirror, the back came loose. i was starting to pinch the metal tight again, when i discovered that there was a piece of paper between the glass and the back!" "the clue to the lost mine?" gasped giraffe, nearly falling over into the fire in his extravagant delight. "yes, that was what it turned out to be," continued the rawson boy, actually smiling to see how deep an interest his narrative seemed to have for these splendid new friends fortune had raised up for him so opportunely. "my father must have had a return of reason just before he passed away; and not being able to say a single word, he had pressed the glass into my hands, thinking that would be enough. but somehow it had never occurred to me that he knew what he was doing." "and that's what brings you up here right now, i reckon; you mean to find that hidden mine, and claim it for your mother, and the girls?" asked thad. "that is what i aim to do," replied the other, firmly. "but i think that man must have kept a spy watching our house, after he failed to find anything among the things that were stolen; for i've since had reason to believe that every movement of mine was known to him. and when he learned that i was going to start north he guessed that i had a clue of some sort to the mine." "and so he captured you, perhaps right here where our camp is now; because toby told us there were the footprints of a boy along with those of colonel kracker, and his two cronies, waffles and dickey bird," giraffe ventured to say. "they did drop in on me right here; and taking me sort of by surprise, made me a prisoner easy enough," remarked aleck, somewhat shame-facedly, as though he considered it far from being to his credit; "but there was something that happened before that ought to have warned me to be on the watch." "what was it?" asked the impatient giraffe, as the other paused, while trying to eat and talk at the same time. "well, you see, down below here, i thought i ought to employ some sort of guide, because i wasn't altogether accustomed to being all alone in the wilderness; though i've always used a gun, and hunted. and along about that time i ran across a man who seemed to be friendly, and knew the country, he said, like a book. his name was matt griggs, he said; and the upshot of it all was he engaged to pilot me around up here as long as i wanted him. you see, my plan was to shake him just when i found my bearings, and felt that i could go on alone; because, of course i didn't want any outsider to be with me when i took possession of my father's mine. "i was careful never to breathe a word of what i had in mind; just told him i wanted to knock around for a few weeks among the mountains up here. and unless i talked in my sleep, which i never knew myself to do, there wasn't any way matt griggs could learn from me the real reason for my wanting to come to this particular section. "but one night i woke up, and found the guide searching through my knapsack; and then all of a sudden it struck me he was in the pay of that old scoundrel of a colonel kracker. he meant to rob me of my secret, and had thrown himself across my path on purpose, just about the time it was supposed i'd be wanting to take on a guide. "of course i covered him with my gun, and sent him away without a cartridge in his possession. he was ugly about it, too, and vowed he'd get even with me yet. well, he did, for my treacherous guide came in with kracker and a second man; so i reckon he must be one of those you spoke of, perhaps waffles; for i heard the other called dickey, once or twice." "when they took you a prisoner, they searched you, of course, hoping to find the valuable paper?" asked giraffe, who could not wait for the natural unfolding of the plot, but must needs hasten matters by means of pointed questions. "they raked me over with a fine-tooth comb," replied the other, with a little chuckle, as though proud of what he had done; "but of course i had been too smart to carry that paper where it could be found, and so they had all their trouble for their pains. then kracker was as mad as a wet hen. he stormed, and threatened, and tried to fool me with a whole lot of silly promises; but it wasn't any use. i just told him that even if i knew the secret of the hidden mine, i'd die before i gave it up to him, or any one like him." "well, you saw what he did, in the end; took me up there, and lowered me to that terrible ledge, saying he was going to leave me there to starve; and that when the buzzards came flocking around me, and i was wild for a bite to eat, perhaps i'd feel a little like telling him what he was bound to know, for he promised to come and ask me every day." "this was when?" asked thad. "i think it must have been about noon when they lowered me at the end of a rope," aleck went on to explain. "one of the men knew about that ledge, and the idea seemed to tickle kracker more than a little. they just shoved me over, and it was keep a tight hold on that rope for me, or a drop to the cruel rocks away down at the foot of the precipice. then, late in the afternoon i saw you come into the valley far below. i wanted to shout, at first, but was afraid you were only some of the other hard cases of silver mine hunters like kracker. but i had found out in the meantime that in crevices of the rock some small trees had once taken root, several of them dying, so that i amused myself in breaking off pieces of wood and starting a little fire deep in a fissure i found, and which they didn't know anything about, i guess. "then, to my surprise i saw some one making all sorts of figures in the darkness with what seemed to be a torch. i used to belong to the boy scout troop of logan, you see, and for a little while i even manipulated the telegraph key in the railroad station a few miles out of there, on the oregon southern railroad; so that i soon saw he was practicing the morse code. and then a wild desire came over me to get in touch with you. what i did, you all know; and i'm the happiest fellow in the whole rocky mountains to think that i've found friends up here, friends who say they'll stand back of me, and help me win out in my fight for my father's mine." there were tears in aleck rawson's blue eyes as he said this last, and somehow every one of the scouts was deeply affected. it does not take much to arouse the boyish spirit of enthusiasm as a rule; and what they had already seen and heard of young aleck rawson, made the members of the silver fox patrol ready to enlist heart and soul in his cause. "there are nine of us here," said thad, quietly, but with a firmness that thrilled the newcomer in the camp; "it's true that all but one of us are boys; but then we've got guns, and can use them too, if we have to. and let me tell you, aleck, we're the kind of friends that stick. we've heard a lot about this hidden mine that your father discovered, and believe that it ought to belong to your mother, and no one else. this old rascal of a kracker is a regular pirate, a land shark that ought to be tied up to a stake, and tarred and feathered, for the way he persecuted you, just because you refused to give away your secret, which means everything to your folks. and aleck, we're going to stand by you through thick and thin! we've met up with you in about the queerest way ever heard of; and after getting you off that ledge up there, don't think we want to call it quits. you're a scout, a fellow scout in trouble; and we wouldn't deserve the name we bear if we didn't promise to back you up to the limit. how about it, boys?" "that's the talk!" declared giraffe, with great vim. "he can count on us, every time," said step hen. and so it went the entire rounds of the little circle, every boy echoing the sentiments that had made thad, as the patrol leader, promise the harassed lad all the assistance that lay in their power. after that the camp quieted down, and the boys went about their ordinary pursuits. davy was fiddling with his little camera, the fever growing stronger in his veins with each passing day. indeed, where some of his chums talked of shooting rocky mountain sheep, grizzlies, timber wolves, panthers and the like, the jones boy could be heard expressing his opinion that "shooting" the same in their native haunts with a snapshot camera, was more to his taste. and there was step hen, as usual, loudly bemoaning the loss of something that he just felt sure he had had only five minutes before, but which was now gone as completely as though the earth had opened and swallowed it up. "'taint as though it was the first time, either," he was saying, in a grumbling tone, as of one deeply injured, while he eyed his chums suspiciously; "it's always _my_ stuff that's bein' so mysteriously moved about, so that i never know where to put my hand on the same. now, i reckon more'n a few of you saw my service hat on my head just a little while ago; but tell me where it is now, will you? if one of you snatched it off in your slick way, and is just hiding the same, let me notify you right now it's a mean joke. thad, can _you_ tell me where my hat is?" having the question thus put directly at him, the patrol leader felt compelled to make a reply. "well, step hen," he said, slowly and convincingly, "i can't exactly do that, but i think i might give a pretty good guess, knowing you so well. just five minutes ago you showed up, after having gone to get a drink at the little stream that runs through here. there's a regular place where we bend down to drink; and i can just see you taking off that campaign hat of yours, laying it nicely on the bank, getting your fill of water; and then deliberately coming back to camp, leaving your hat there; and then you kick up the greatest racket because you suddenly notice it isn't on your head!" some of the other boys clapped their hands, while step hen looked foolish at the well-merited rebuke. "mebbe you're right that time, thad," he said, meekly, as, turning, he strode from the briskly burning fire, heading toward the good spot alongside the little stream, where they knelt to drink. it was perhaps half a minute afterwards when he was heard to give a screech that brought every scout instantly to his feet, jumping for their guns, when they caught the meaning of his words: "i've got him!" yelled step hen, at the top of his voice; "i'm holding him, all right! but come and give me a hand, somebody, or he'll get away! injuns! injuns!" no wonder that excitement filled the camp of the silver fox patrol! chapter vii. step hen makes a capture. "wow! it's a regular attack! keep hold of your guns, boys, and make every bullet count!" whooped the excited giraffe. "don't anybody fire a single shot without orders!" roared thad, who could never tell what such a fly-up-the-creek as giraffe was capable of doing, once he got started. the guide led the way toward the spot where step hen still continued to shout and entreat. all of the boys had seen fit to arm themselves. even smithy, who had no gun, had seized upon the camp hatchet, and imagined himself looking exceedingly warlike as he trotted along in the wake of his comrades, making violent passes in the air, as though cutting down imaginary enemies by the score. they thus came upon step hen; and sure enough he was clinging to the back of an indian, both arms being twisted desperately around the latter's dusky neck in a way that threatened to choke the other. step hen may never have read about the way the old man of the sea clung to sinbad the sailor, using both arms and legs to maintain his hold; but thad thought, when he had his first glimpse of the picture, that at any rate the scout was a good sticker. but then the indian did not seem to be doing anything on his part to ward off the attack; indeed, he was standing there, bearing his burden with that stoical indifference peculiar to his race. there was no smile on his sober face that thad could see; but he imagined that the indian must surely appreciate the ridiculous nature of the situation. "all right, step hen," thad called out, when he could make himself heard above the tremendous racket the other was putting up; "we're here to save you, guns and all. you can let go your grip, step hen!" "but you won't let him get away, will you, thad?" pleaded the other, earnestly. "he's my injun, don't you know; i captured him all by myself. i just bet you now he was meanin' to hook my hat, that's what brought him to the creek; but i jumped on him, and took him by surprise. surround him, fellers, while i let him loose. my! but he's a tricky one, i tell you; pretended never to fight back a bit; but he was only watching for his chance. he didn't know who had hold of him, and that i was on to his game, all right." "stop talking, and let him go; you're half choking him, step hen!" ordered the patrol leader. and knowing that thad meant business when he used his official tones, step hen suddenly released his clutch, and jumped back, just as if he really expected his late captive to whirl and attack him. but nothing of the kind occurred. in fact, the indian continued to show the utmost indifference to the fact that a ring of eager faces surrounded him; and that guns of various makes and kinds were thrust out at him, until the circle seemed to fairly bristle with a warlike atmosphere. thad saw the indian raise his right hand, holding the palm toward them, and keeping the thumb flat at the same time. "that's the peace sign!" muttered toby smathers; "he ain't lookin' for trouble, i reckons, boys." "huh! he better not," grunted giraffe, who had been amusing himself meanwhile in raising and lowering the hammer of his heavy rifle, as though he must have something going in order to work off his nervousness. "why, we could eat him alive, and then not half try. ten to one is mighty heavy odds, let me tell you. and no wonder he holds out the white flag. it's easy to surrender when you ain't got a show. but i'd go slow about trusting him, thad; these here injuns, i've heard, are a treacherous lot, take 'em as a whole." "keep still, giraffe!" said the scoutmaster, sternly; "let me do the talking," and the tall scout became mute, for the time being at least; though it was hard to keep him any length of time in that condition. thad had already made a discovery. the moonlight fell upon the indian, who now stood there with his arms folded, his whole attitude one of studied indifference; and it struck the patrol leader that there was something very familiar about him. "allan, isn't he the young brave we saw hovering around our camp before, and who wouldn't stop to be questioned?" he asked, turning to the maine boy. "i was just thinking of that myself when you spoke, thad," came the ready answer. "i wonder, now, why he keeps on hanging after us," the scoutmaster remarked. "and i'm going to ask him first of all." with that he turned to the prisoner, and went on to say: "can you understand; do you know what i am saying?" "yes, can speak same, all right," came the answer, in pretty fair english. "well, we want to know why you are hanging about our camp so much. once before we saw you, and tried to talk with you, but you moved off. now, away up here in the mountains you come again, sneaking around, and taking chances of being shot for a prowling wolf. tell us why you do this? i don't believe you meant to steal anything because you've made no attempt to creep into the camp; but we want to know just why you hang around this way." "make come back more two, three times, look at teepee, see fine picture there. never see like before. much good! ugh! p'raps sell same, bimeby, when go back!" "what under the sun does he mean by that talk, thad? sure we ain't in the picture selling business, even if i am taking some dandy snapshots. i wonder, now, has he seen me at work; does he think i'm a traveling photograph man, and wants me to strike him off, in his warpaint and feathers?" davy jones managed to say all of this, but no one was paying much attention to his remarks. "tell you what, fellers," broke in the irrepressible giraffe, just then; "he's taken a shine to our tents, and wants to buy one when we're done with 'em. knows a good thing when he sees it, he does. just as if we'd let 'em go for a song, when they're cram full of associations for us." "you're not on to it yet, boys;" remarked thad, quietly; "it's the head of the fox which we had painted so cleverly on each tent that's caught his eye; and he just can't help hanging around, to keep on gazing at it, for some reason or other." for the first time they saw a sign of emotion flit across the face of the young indian brave. he struck himself violently on the chest. "me fox!" he exclaimed, proudly. "soon me must have teepee for self. see picture fox on same, think can buy. give much pelt for same. ugh! what white boy say?" "well, just to think of it, here's another fox, all right?" called out giraffe. "we're treading on his heels, so to speak, boys, when we take that name for our patrol. glad to meet up with you; and by the way are you silver fox, red fox, or black fox; though to be sure they all belong to one family?" "i thought i ought to know him," burst out aleck rawson, pushing forward, "and now i'm dead sure of it. hello! fox, you sure must remember me, aleck; and the good times we used to have, when i lived close to the reservation?" the young indian extended his hand without hesitation. "no forget aleck, not much. but him not with other white boys down in big timber. where come by? how do? much glad see again. my coyote pony, flicker, yet in the run. ugh! shake!" "he means a pony i gave him when we came away from that place," explained aleck, turning to thad after gravely shaking hands with the indian. "the fox is a crow, and one of the smartest boys you ever saw. he can do everything that a grown warrior could; and some day they say he will be a chief in his tribe. we used to have great times racing our ponies, and chasing coyotes over the prairie. and i'm right glad to see him once more; though it puzzles me to know why he is up here, so far away from the homes of his people; and armed, too." "well, if he's an old friend of yours, aleck, and you can vouch for him, why, of course he's going to be welcome at our fire. and it tickles me to think that the bright painting of the fox head on each of our tents was what attracted his eye, so that he just _couldn't_ keep from hanging around at that other time. but surely that didn't draw him away up here; he's got some other business in his head; for he only discovered our camp just now, and was coming in to see us, i reckon, when step hen mounted his back, and then called to us to help him." "anyway, i had him gripped good and tight, you all saw," grumbled step hen. "when these good husky arms of mine get locked around anything, it takes a heap to break me away. if he had been a hostile injun i'd a hung on like grim death, believe me." no one ventured to try and take away any of his laurels. he had certainly yelled for help in a way that could not easily be excelled, they all thought. thad led the way to the fire, after inviting the indian to join them. he confessed to having just a little curiosity himself as to what had caused the fox to desert the teepees of his tribe, and wander so far away from the reservation; but of course thad knew better than to ask about the personal affairs of the other. if the fox chose, later on, to take them into his confidence, well and good. he might only stay with them for a night, and then slip away; but since he was aleck's friend, and seemed to be connected with the great family of foxes, of which they were a boy scout branch, why, he would be welcome. as the indian confessed that he had not broken his fast since noon, when he had munched a handful of dried deer meat, known as pemmican, some of the boys took it upon themselves to cook something for him. he appeared to be very grateful, and could be seen to sniff the air eagerly while the coffee was boiling; showing that he appreciated the white man's drink at its true value; for his people on the reservation enjoyed many of the comforts of civilization, and some of the luxuries, too, even to pianos that played themselves, and boxes that sang songs, and played the violin, and gave all sorts of orchestral music, so aleck observed. and while the boys talked on various subjects, as they sat around, thad happened to be watching the face of the fox when one of the scouts casually mentioned the name of colonel kracker. he actually saw the dark face grow stern, and that the indian ground his teeth together, as if in anger. seeing which thad put things together, and came to a conclusion, whether right or wrong, of course he could not yet say. "he knows kracker, for he started when davy mentioned the name," thad was saying to himself. "and the chances are that the prospector has done something to injure the fox, or some member of his family. these indians hate savagely; and perhaps this young fellow, hardly more than a boy, has taken to the warpath, bent on having a settlement with the big bully. well, it isn't any of our business; but i know i'd hate to have the fox camping on _my_ trail, with hatred burning in his heart." chapter viii. planning woe to the big horns. "if we get along in this way," giraffe was saying, as he sat there watching the young indian eat what had been set before him; "two at a pop, not that they're just as welcome as the showers in april, though, we'll have to hustle some lively so's to provide grub." "keepin' open house, giraffe!" sang out davy jones, looking up from his job of placing another new film in his snapshot camera. "well, we've got our sign out to the foxes; that's right," grinned the other, as he glanced proudly at the head that had been painted in really a clever fashion on the canvas of each tent. they sat up a while longer, and canvassed the situation; but the hour getting late, and several of the boys showing signs of being sleepy, it was finally decided that they had better turn in. so bumpus had to pretend to blow "taps," with his fist for a bugle; and as usual he acquitted himself splendidly. the young indian's eyes sparkled when he heard that imitation of the real thing; and thad imagined the fox must at some time or other have rubbed up against the regular cavalry of the united states army, so that he understood what bumpus was doing. thad and allan had arranged matters with the guide, so that there would be some one on guard at all hours of the night. with those three men hovering near, there could be no telling what might happen. while they were not outlaws, or anything of that sort; still, after learning how they had treated poor aleck, just because he very rightly refused to give up the secret of the mine that was his mother's property, and on which kracker did not have the slightest claim, thad could give a pretty good guess as to the character of the men. the guide had told him more than enough to stamp kracker in his mind as a very unprincipled man. thad believed the prospector was so determined to discover the hidden silver mine that there was almost nothing he would not attempt in order to carry out his designs. and since their camp now sheltered the boy against whom all his animosity seemed to be aroused, it was at least possible that he might pay them a visit, backed by his followers, men quite as reckless as himself. so it would seem to be the part of wisdom to keep on the watch for danger. it is the principle of scouts to avoid trouble, rather than seek it; and thad believed in the old saying that "an ounce of prevention is always better than a pound of cure." but the night passed, and nothing happened. none of the others were called upon to take a turn as sentries; indeed more than one of the boys slept like a log all that night, and never dreamed there was any watch being kept. still, when in the morning they ascertained this fact, they reproached the scoutmaster for not having called upon them to share the vigil; since they always wished to do their share of the work. thad knew that the coming of aleck rawson was bound to add to the excitement of their stay in the mountains; but he had already taken a great liking for the boy, and admired his sturdy independence, as well as his grim determination to once more locate the long hidden mine for the benefit of his mother and sisters. come what might, thad was not sorry the silver foxes had determined, individually and collectively that they would back up aleck to the limit; and even give over some of the time they had expected to put in hunting, in order to help him take possession of his father's silver lode. that meant then, sooner or later, a visit from the bully of the mountains, this arrogant colonel kracker, whom so many men seemed to fear as a terror; though thad had already conceived the idea that the other must be a coward at heart. he fancied that no really brave man would war on a widow like he was doing; and torture a mere boy, in order to force him to betray his mother's secret. "let him come, then, if he wants to," thad had said to allan, when they discussed the subject for the tenth time, while breakfast was being made ready. "we're able to take care of ourselves, i should think--eight husky fellows, a brave man for a guide, who will stand up for us; then aleck, and the fox besides. it would be mighty queer, now, if we couldn't hold our own against three men, no matter if they are tough characters." "oh! i guess we've seen just as bad before," replied allan, with a confident smile. "how about some of those moonshiners down in north carolina? and tell me about that charlie barnes and his crowd, the hobo yeggs we ran across up in maine. then, remember si kedge and ed harkness the game poachers we met later on; and how they were sorry they'd ever bothered with the silver foxes? and to wind up the list, thad, there were hank dodge and his french canadian half breed pard, pierre laporte, the hard-shelled timber cruisers, who gave us all that bother when bumpus lost himself down in the big timber. how's that for a crowd, tell me; and didn't we come out on top every time?" thad laughed. "i see you've got it all down pretty pat, allan," he remarked. "and sure enough, just as you say, after getting the better of so many bad men in all our travels, we hadn't ought to feel worried right now because three more bob up, and think to throw a scare into us. on the whole, this kracker had better keep his hands off, or he'll be sorry." "but how about our hunting?" allan went on to say. "some of the boys are getting anxious to make a try for a big-horn. why, there's smithy, a fellow we never expected would ever take the least interest in shooting, because his nature has seemed so mild, and sissy-like--i even heard him declare he wanted to make a try and see what he could do. owned up that his father used to be a great hunter years ago; but that he guessed he'd inherited his mother's gentle disposition; while his hobble-dehoy sister she wants to play baseball, hockey, tennis, and those kinds of games all the while. and thad, i think we ought to encourage that idea in smithy. it may be the making of him, if once he gets waked up." thad thought the same way. he knew the boy possessed amiable traits; but he had always been given too much to dress, and the little things of life, at which most fellows look with scorn and contempt. he must have the edges roughened a little, if he was ever going to hold his own when he went to college, or out in the wide world, where "sissy" boys are held up to derision. "nothing to hinder our hanging over here a bit, and seeing what the next move of this cannon cracker is going to be," he remarked. "and the hunting?" asked allan. "why, a party could start out right from camp here, leaving enough behind to defend the place, of course, and keep kracker from taking aleck away by sheer force, if he did have the nerve enough to come here," the scoutmaster replied, after thinking over the matter for a brief time. "of course we ought to let the guide go along with the boys; for i wouldn't like to trust them alone in the mountains," allan suggested. "that's right," added thad. "some of them seem to have a weakness for getting into all sorts of trouble from the word go. we can let one party start out, and after they come back, if they've had any luck, and the air's cleared some around here, why, another might take a different direction. you said step hen was wild to get a big horn, didn't you, allan?" "never saw him so set on anything; but then that's his way always. when he gets a notion in that brain box of his, you can't knock it out with a sledge hammer. and just now it seems that a real rocky mountain sheep with the big horns beats any old grizzly all hollow, with step hen." "all right, we'll have to let him be one of the first party. he did so splendidly when he jumped on the back of the fox, and captured him, he thinks, that some reward ought to be coming his way. and there's smithy, i'll see that he has his chance to try a shot. giraffe could lend him his gun; or bob white's would do because it's a much lighter weapon than the other." "and how about davy jones; he says he's just bound to get some pictures of big-horns on their native rocks, or making some of those famous leaps he's heard so much about; can he be one of the bunch, thad?" "yes, but that is the limit. three frisky scouts will be about all that any one guide can keep tabs on, i rather think," replied the other, smiling as he tried to picture toby smathers endeavoring to hold the ambitious photographer, and the pair of would-be big-horn hunters, in check; for he imagined the task might resemble a circus feat of trying to drive half a dozen steeds at the same time. when the plan of campaign for the day was made known, there was considerable rejoicing, and a little grumbling. of course the former came from those who had been lucky enough to draw prizes; while the discontent sprang from giraffe, who had also cherished certain aspirations, looking to a pair of elegant big-horns, to decorate his den at home in cranford. but if giraffe did occasionally show a spirit like this, the best thing about him was the rapidity with which he got over the "grumbles," as step hen called his little fits of the sulks. in five minutes he had apparently forgotten his disappointment, and was offering to loan smithy his rifle, even before the scoutmaster had mentioned anything about it. however, it was judged too heavy for a greenhorn to pack around all day; and in order that giraffe might not feel offended, thad smoothed matters down, as usual, by administering a little dose of flattery. "he's only a new beginner, giraffe, and not used to toting a gun. why, his shoulder would be sore from carrying it all day. with an old hand like you, it's a different matter; and i rather think that gun just seems to fit into a notch on your shoulder, like it grew there. now, bob's gun is much lighter; and with those mushroom bullets, the small bore doesn't matter a bit. so we'll let him take that. besides, if anything happened here that spelled trouble, you'd feel pretty sore if you didn't have your faithful old shooting-iron at hand." "that's so, thad; reckon you're just about right," said the tall scout, instantly, quite mollified. "and bob's gun'll seem more like a playtoy to smithy, too. i always said mine was a man's gun; and when you pull the trigger there's bound to be something doing." in this clever way then, did thad frequently stave off trouble and ill feeling among his followers. it requires much tact to successfully manage a pack of boys, representing all manner of dispositions. and the scoutmaster who is the most successful in his line of business, is the one who knows boys best, and has the happy faculty of entering into their ways of looking at things, heart and soul. during the progress of eating breakfast the talk was of course pretty much all about hunting the big horn. the guide was called upon to narrate all he knew concerning the famous rocky mountain sheep, often called goats by the hunters; and which combine many of the traits of the noted chamois of the alps and the appenines, with others that are peculiar to themselves. any one who has seen them leap boldly from a ledge, and strike upon their great rounded horns far below, is ready to declare that there is not a remarkable spectacle in all the world of wild sport that can equal the sight. possibly the fox knew something concerning these queer mountain sheep; but as giraffe said aside to step hen, "it would needs be a monstrous lemon squeezer that could ever hope to extract any information from an indian." aleck, on his part, had often heard stories told about the animals now occupying so prominent a part in the conversation of the scouts; and he did not hesitate to hand over any information he had it in his power to divulge, hoping that it might serve a useful purpose to the intended hunters. davy was thrusting several more rolls of films in his haversack. "no telling what a feller may run up against, once you start out," he remarked. "the only trouble is, davy," commented giraffe, "you can't make a meal off'n the things, if you're hungry, and game shy. i think step hen did a wise thing when he stuffed all he could get of eatables in his bag. and smithy too carries a lot. oh! you'll do, now. thad says you'd better wait about half an hour, till the mists clear off'n the mountains. it's real early, anyhow, and the sheep ain't agoin' to run away; don't you worry about that." there is nothing that bothers a boy more than having to wait, when he's all ready to do something. the minutes seem to drag as though they were leaden weighted. if davy unfastened that knapsack of his once to examine its contents, and make sure he had neglected nothing, he did it half a dozen times, until giraffe declared he would certainly wear the straps out if he kept that up. those who expected to remain in camp were going about their usual vocations, as for instance the cleaning up of the breakfast tin pans, and cooking utensils. when a company of eleven souls has been having a meal, these amount to considerable; and it took bob white, allan and bumpus some little time to accomplish the task of setting things to rights. bumpus had gone to get some more water from the stream, and when he came back he was grinning broadly. "why, you see," he explained, "there's an old rattlesnake coiled up over there, and i've been making him as mad as hops, poking at him with a pole. you just ought to come and see him strike, though!" "i heard him rattle!" declared thad, "but somehow i just thought it was a locust waking up. come on, boys, and let's put such a dangerous customer out of the way!" chapter ix. baiting a rattlesnake. of course they all hastened after the scoutmaster and bumpus; the latter really leading the way, with a consequential way about him, as though he felt that he ought to be looked upon as master of ceremonies, by right of first discovery. "here's the pole i had, when i poked him," he remarked, picking it up as he spoke. "but where's the rattler?" demanded giraffe, just as swift as that; for he was always as quick as lightning in his ways. "show the old fraud to us, will you? must a slipped away while you came to camp with the water." "huh!" sneered step hen, "i'd rather believe now, bumpus don't know a rattler when he sees one. p'raps it was only an innocent little garter snake he was pokin', and a locust was singin' in a tree all the while." bumpus looked furious. he had lately gained quite an envious reputation for a remarkable knowledge of woodcraft; and he was up in arms at the idea of being thus placed once more in the tenderfoot class. "think i don't know a genuine rattlesnake when i see one, do you; well, what d'ye think of a feller that'd jump over a log without even lookin', and when a common garden variety of black snake gave him a jab, he hollered that he was poisoned by a terrible rattler, and could even see his poor leg swellin' up right before his eyes. me not know one, when i've been in the zoo reptile house down in new york, and even watched one swallow a rat! well, i guess you're away off, step hen bingham." "yes," put in thad just then, "and it's too early in the day for a locust to be in the noise business; i ought to have thought of that myself, i own up. let's look around, boys, and locate the thing; but be mighty careful how you step. i can cure a good many things with the few little remedies i carry; but excuse me from having to tackle a regular dose of rattlesnake poison." "it is a bad thing, i tells ye, lads," asserted toby smathers, who had come along with the rest, even the indian boy being present. "many's the time, years ago, i've seen the injuns getting poison from a rattler, so's to make their war arrows more deadly. an' i tells ye, it war worth watchin'. if so be we kin find this critter, i'll show ye how 'twas done, if mr. scout master sez so." "first get your rabbit, before you start to cooking him," laughed thad. just then giraffe let out a whoop. "here he is, all coiled up again, and looking wicked, now, i tell you!" he called out; and the others rushed in that quarter. "well, he is a sorter big un for the mountains, sure enough," admitted the guide after he had taken a look. "wait here a bit till i come back with a piece of deer meat, and i'll show ye how 'twas done. keep him riled-up like, but not strikin' too hard at that pole, or he'll empty his pizen sack on it." thad had himself heard more or less about such things; or else read of them in stories of the old-time indians, the iroquois, delawares, shawanees and other tribes who disputed the way of the early pioneers; and he was just as eager to watch the process as any of the other boys. the rattlesnake was coiled, just as they always are when danger hovers near; because, when caught at full length, the reptile is next to harmless, since it cannot strike and make use of its only means of defense, its poison fangs. thad saw to it that no one approached near enough to be in any danger. once the pole was extended by bumpus, just to show his mates how he had been baiting the awful looking thing. instantly that flat head sprang out toward the object; and as bumpus adroitly drew it away, remembering the injunction of the guide, the rattlesnake, finding nothing to strike, was thrown half its length out of coil. it was almost laughable to see with what haste it managed to curl up again, and with that rattle buzzing furiously, seemed to defy anything to touch it. then toby smathers came hurrying up. he was fastening a piece of venison (which had been left over several days, and kept well in the dry mountain air,) to another long pole, which he had secured; not wishing to handle the one that had already been struck numerous times by the fangs of the snake. "now you're going to have something worth while to mudge at, old feller!" cried bumpus, as he threw his pole away, and pushed a little closer in the ring, anxious to see all that went on. toby was soon ready. he thrust the pole out, and all of them could hear the sound of the concussion as the reptile struck the piece of meat fastened at the end. it made most of the boys shudder just to contemplate being hit such a venomous blow with all the fury of a maddened reptile. again and again did toby cause the snake to repeat the blow, turning the meat around several ways, so that it might all be impregnated by the virus. "now that's about done," he said; "and the quicker ye kill that crazy thing the easier i'll feel. lost a partner once when on a range tending forests for the government, and ever since i've got a grudge agin rattlers." thereupon bumpus once more picked up his long pole and aimed a vicious blow at the raised head of the snake. taking the creature fairly across the neck he sent it spinning away. "look out there!" shouted giraffe, giving a hop, skip and a jump in another direction; "he may be playing possum on us! keep clear of him, everybody; and you, bumpus, hit him again as hard as you can. it ain't the easiest thing agoin' to kill a snake, let me tell you." accordingly the fat scout raised his pole, and brought it down several times with might and main, on the neck of the fearful looking reptile; until finally thad declared that it was beyond ever doing any harm again. "and the rattle belongs to bumpus, if he cares to claim it," said the scoutmaster. "it isn't a pretty thing, but then every time he looks at it, he'll be apt to remember this occasion, and can picture the camp, the mountains, and all the rest of it." "including mike and molly, our gentle pack mules," added giraffe; immediately bending down to assist bumpus secure his prize. "now, you see," said the guide, as he held up the piece of fresh venison so as to show the streaks of green, where the terrible poison had permeated it, "after they done this, the reds used to jest let the meat lie till it was old and soft, and chuck full of pizen. then all they had to do was to push the point of an arrow into the same, and dry it in the sun. but i'm told they never do such things any more, which i take it is a good job. thar be some things that seem too tough even for savages to use in war; and pizen is one of 'em, i reckons." "for goodness sake bury it, toby!" begged smithy, turning pale as he contemplated the object the guide was holding up. "and i surely hope we will not have the misfortune to run across any of the same breed while we're stalking those strange big-horn sheep." "not much danger, because rattlers they's apt at this time of year to kim down to damp places, when they kin find such," the guide explained; but at thad's request he did put the piece of venison underground. "if later on some hungry wolf digs it up, why, i'm sorry for that same beast," giraffe remarked, as they returned once more to the camp. "must be near time for us to skip out," said step hen, giving the scoutmaster a look of entreaty, as though imploring thad to be merciful, and cut their waiting short. "five minutes yet before the half hour is gone," declared allan. an exclamation from the indian drew their attention just then. the fox was pointing, and on following the direction of his extended brown finger the boys saw what had caught his always vigilant eyes. away up on the top of the cliff that towered so many hundred feet above its base several figures were moving. they were plainly men, and white men at that. no need for any one to dart into the tent, and get the field glass, in order to know who these parties were, though thad did secure it, as he wished a closer view. "it's sure that krackerjack crowd!" cried giraffe. "better get a move on, aleck, and drop out of sight before they glimpse you." but the other shook his head. "it's too late for that now," he declared. "kracker has got a spy glass leveled at this camp right now; and he's sure glimpsed me before this." and when thad a minute later looked through the field glasses at the three who were on the cliff he saw that aleck had spoken truly; for even then the biggest of the trio was watching them through a pair of glasses. now and then he would turn, to say something to one of his companions. these fellows, known as waffles and dickey bird respectively, were not in the same class with the giant kracker, with regard to size; though as to reputation, possibly they were able to run him a close race; since they were all looked upon as a pretty bad lot by the settlers and miners with whom they came in contact. "wonder what he thinks?" remarked davy jones, who seemed almost tempted to try and use his kodak on the party, only his good sense told him they would look like specks at such a great distance, and there would be no satisfaction in the picture. "how d'ye expect they ever found that aleck was no longer on the ledge?" asked step hen. "perhaps they may have been in camp somewhere, that gave them a view of the ledge, and looking in vain for aleck, they hurried up to see whether he had fallen, or was climbing up someway or other," allan suggested. "and the chances are, they'll want to drop in here, now that they know he's taken up with us?" said giraffe. step hen looked anxious. "say, thad, is that agoin' to interfere with our startin' out on our little excursion?" he demanded. the scoutmaster knew what was in his mind. he smiled as he replied: "oh! i don't see why it should, step hen. fact is, the time's up now; and as i've said all i want to about taking care of yourselves, why you might as well make a start. there'll be enough of us left behind to take care of colonel kracker and his friends, if so be they do chance to call on us." "bring us back some nice juicy mutton, step hen!" called giraffe. "and davy, be sure you snap 'em off in the air; we ain't from missouri, but we like to be shown," added bumpus. "i say, smithy, the country expects every man to do his duty, suh; and if you get your chance, i give you my word, suh, that little gun can be depended on every single time!" shouted the southerner, bob white. and so, followed by the good wishes of their chums, the little party of big-horn hunters started forth, none knowing what strange events might be waiting for them among the wild uplifts of the rockies. chapter x. the coming of kracker. "they're sure comin', thad!" the scoutmaster looked up when giraffe said this. "oh! you must mean that big cannon kracker, and his two friends?" he remarked, in such a cool tone that giraffe fairly gasped for breath. "that's them!" he declared, with an utter disregard for grammar that would have caused him to lose some of his good points in school had the lapse occurred there. "and my stars! they look ugly enough to eat us all up, without caring for bones!" "but i calculate they won't, all the same," replied the other, smiling with supreme confidence. "did allan send you in to tell me?" he continued, for he had delegated the second in command to keep watch and ward when he was busy in his tent doing something. giraffe nodded his head violently; indeed, any one who did not know how tenacious a hold it had on that long neck, might have been alarmed lest he dislocate his vertebra through such contortions. "yep; and he said you was to come out and see for yourself," giraffe went on. "all right, i will then." thad quietly picked up his little twelve-bore marlin before quitting the tent; and there was an air of business about his manner of doing so quite different from the fussy way giraffe had of doing things, but which was apt to appear much more convincing in the eyes of any one who could read character fairly well. when the scoutmaster reached the open air he found quite a buzz of excitement around the confines of the little camp. it seemed as though the scouts must certainly be anticipating something in the line of trouble; because every one who had a gun was nervously fingering the weapon, and watching the coming of the three figures stalking toward the camp from across the little valley. there was giraffe, first of all, gripping his big rifle eagerly, a grim look on his thin face; bumpus had his ten-gauge marlin clenched tightly in his hands, and perhaps some of the usual color was missing from his fat face; but he had a reputation to sustain now, and knew he must toe the mark like a little man; allan had his rifle in evidence; and aleck having lost his at the time he was captured, was keeping a hand close to one of his pockets in which reposed a small revolver which one of the other scouts had loaned him. bob white did not have a gun either, since he had let smithy go off with his; but he did not mean to be caught defenseless, should trouble arise; and back of him he was holding that handy camp hatchet. the fox,--well, if he was anywhere around the camp, thad failed to discover him; and even at that exciting moment the scoutmaster remembered thinking that perhaps the crow boy had hidden, not wishing any of the kracker crowd to see him. thad glanced around him. he had considered the situation before this, like the wise general who notes down in his mind the promising points connected with his chosen field of battle. speaking a few words to allan, who knew what the plan of campaign was to be, thad sent the other over to a clump of rocks, from the crest of which, not more than fifty feet away, he could have a splendid and unobstructed view of the camp, as well as its surroundings. indeed, hardly a snake could have crawled across that open space without being exposed to the sharp eyes of the maine boy. then thad awaited the coming of the three men. just as giraffe had declared, he could easily see that they were all looking more or less angry. the big man in the middle interested him much more than either of the others, of course; because he knew very well that when colonel kracker took snuff, it was up to waffles and dickey bird to sneeze; for they were only shadows of the leader, who always controlled their actions. thad had never seen just such a man before; but for all that he believed that what he had said before was the truth. red-faced, and looking like a big hurricane let loose on the land, still back of all this outward display of fierceness thad felt sure there lay a really cowardly heart. yes, no brave man would act as kracker had done, and when it came right down to the point of facing death, he was pretty sure to quail. thad turned, and spoke a few reassuring words to aleck. "remember, we don't mean to let him lay a finger on you, boy. i've drawn a line out between that rock, and the scrub oak over yonder; and if he crosses that we're going to make him wish he hadn't. there'll be some work for me to do picking bird shot out of his fat legs, and binding up his other wounds; for we've sure got to stop him coming in to this camp, no matter what happens!" it was a remarkable situation for the acting scoutmaster of a troop of boy scouts to find himself in. very few others could ever say they had gone through a like experience, thad thought. but then, that was no reason he and his mates were bound to let this tyrant walk rough-shod over them, and take aleck away, to continue his harsh and inhuman treatment of the lad. no, if it were necessary, in order to avoid such a catastrophe overtaking them, he must give the command to fire on the enemy, much as he would ever regret the necessity for such a step. he wondered what the leading lights in the great organization would say, should the circumstances ever be placed before them; but then, scouts should acquit themselves manfully under any and all conditions; and that was just what thad meant to do now. the men were now close enough to make sure that those facing them were only boys. thad could see that kracker was looking closely, as though anxious to settle that point first of all; and it agreed exactly with the opinion he already entertained for the big prospector; namely, that he was what giraffe would call "a wind-bag," or a puff-ball, like those every one has stepped on in the fields, that go off with a pop, emit a little cloud of dust, and then collapse. but what was there to be feared from a mere parcel of half-grown boys? kracker doubtless believed that he could awe them with that fierce look of his, and the domineering way he had of holding himself erect; while it was almost certain that when they heard his awful voice, sounding like hoarse thunder, their very legs would tremble under them, so that their knees must knock together. but apparently no one was doing much trembling, as yet, for they seemed to stand there in a line, and holding their guns half raised, with the stocks hitched under their shoulders, in the manner of those who have hunted much, and know which might be the easiest method of flinging a gun to rest in a second of time. one of the men had a rifle. he was the fellow whom thad guessed went by the name of dickey bird. but then, no doubt both kracker and waffles carried smaller arms about their persons somewhere, for thad could see signs of their belts, and judged the heavy revolvers were swung back of them, where a hand could sweep around and lay hold of the butt easily. the scoutmaster had made up his mind that kracker was the only one whom they had to fear in the least. with him removed from the game, the other two would turn out to be easily handled. in fact, they would probably throw up their hands in surrender the very instant anything happened to take the big man off. and accordingly thad meant to devote all his energies toward cutting the claws of the colonel. he had given allan his ideas on the subject, and the maine boy agreed with him fully. they were coming close to the imaginary dead line thad had marked between that pile of rocks and the stunted tree. half a minute more, and he felt that he must call a halt. would they mind what he said; or, thinking that orders from a mere boy were not to be taken seriously, would they insist on advancing further? thad gritted his teeth, and was more resolved than ever that if kracker invited trouble he would get it, good and hard. he would find out that guns can be just as dangerous in the hands of boys, as men. but now he noticed that the big man had slowed up a little. perhaps he did not just like the way they stood there waiting, and with so many guns handy, too. thad deliberately cocked his shotgun. the sound of the hammer clicking could be plainly heard, just as the boy intended it should; and there was something terribly business-like and significant about it. at any rate, colonel kracker reduced his pace another notch, as if in answer to an unspoken challenge. he was not so brave inwardly as his fierce outward appearance would seem to indicate. his eyes were glued upon the figure of young aleck, who stood beside thad, just a step to the rear, possibly. and apparently kracker was trying to throw all the force of his domineering character into that glare. it was really enough to frighten one into fits, thad thought; but somehow it did not make him even tremble, because he believed surface indications often told what was not true. "keep on giving him back look for look, aleck!" was what thad said in a low tone, intended only for the ear of the boy they had rescued from the cliff ledge. "oh! i ain't afraid of him now; he couldn't make me squirm when i was all alone, and in his power; so it ain't likely i'm shivering, now that i've got so many friends to back me up," answered the other, also in a hoarse whisper. "good for you!" thad sent back. at the same time he coughed. this had been arranged as a signal for the rest of those who carried guns, to raise them to their shoulders. the action itself ought to convince kracker that he had reached the limit of the peace line; and that if he persisted in advancing any further, he might expect something to happen. it worked splendidly. the big man came to an abrupt halt, and of course so did waffles, and dickey bird too. thad did not think much of the last mentioned; but the other fellow looked to be just such a sort of "second fiddle" whom a man like kracker would choose to assist him in his schemes, that were so often evil. and they were right on that imaginary line thad had marked out, too; had they persisted in advancing three more feet he meant to call out sharply, and warn them to pull up. slowly kracker elevated that fat right hand of his. many a time, no doubt it had given some poor wretch cause for trembling when he pointed that finger at him. just now, with those terrible eyes of his glued upon aleck, he made his forefinger move, once, twice, three times, in a significant beckoning gesture. then he spoke, and his deep-toned voice was not unlike the rumble of thunder at a time the lightning is darting among the heavy storm clouds. "come here!" chapter xi. held at bay. "don't move, aleck!" said thad, instantly, and he raised his voice enough, to purposely let the three men hear what he said. of course the boy did not budge. perhaps he even gave kracker back look for look, only that there may have been a smile of contempt upon his boyish face. "don't you hear what i say, come here!" roared the colonel. "he hears you all right, but he feels quite satisfied to stay where he is," said thad, in a cool tone. the other turned those blazing eyes on the speaker. "who asked you to put your finger in my business?" he demanded, harshly. "i'm not. it's you who keeps on meddling with things that concern this boy and his mother only. i suppose you are colonel kracker?" thad went on. "that's my name, and anybody who knows me would tell you that you're doing the most foolish thing in all your life, when you try to interfere with any affair on which i've set my heart. i want that boy to come to me!" and he shook his fat finger threateningly toward aleck as he said this. "then you'll have to take it out in wanting, let me tell you;" replied the patrol leader, "for he belongs in this camp of boy scouts; and we're going to stand back of him." if thad was excited he certainly did not seem to be so; in fact giraffe wondered how in the world he could command his voice so well, and speak so calmly, when on his part he was fairly shivering with the nervous tension. "what's that you say?" shouted the big man, bristling all over with rage until he seemed to swell up larger than ever. "why, you little imp, d'ye know what i've a good notion to do with you for this insulting talk?" "i don't know, and neither do i care," replied thad, "but there's one thing i do think _you_ ought to know." "oh! you do, eh? what might that be?" demanded kracker, sneeringly. "turn your head a little to the left, and you'll see a pile of rocks," the scoutmaster went on. "now, look up on top of that pile, and you'll see a young fellow on one knee, holding a big rifle straight on you. that's one of our chums. he's from the state of maine, where they teach boys to be able to hit a leaping deer straight in the heart every shot. try and take just three steps this way, if you want to test his skill with the rifle. or any one of you start to raising a gun; and my word for it you'll never know what hit you. get that, kracker?" evidently the big man saw allan kneeling there, and holding his gun leveled. the sight did not give him any too much enjoyment, either, judging from the way some of the color faded from his face. he spluttered quite as much as before, but he had lost a good part of his make-believe courage. in fact, thad believed he had the big bully on the run; and he meant to press his advantage. "if i don't get him this time, i will later on," said kracker, giving aleck a look of intense hatred. "don't you believe it," declared the scoutmaster, cheerfully. "we're going to see him through, and if it's necessary, we'll find a way of sending word to the fort, and bringing a bunch of hard-riding cavalrymen here to chase you out of the mountains. and just remember, colonel kracker, there are eleven of us, all told, well armed, and knowing how to take care of ourselves. we're no city greenhorns, either, but scouts who have had a whole lot of experience in hard places. now, if you know what is good for you, keep away from our camps, wherever they may be. our guide, toby smathers, who knows you like a book, says that lots of good people would throw up their hats and cheer, if they heard you'd crossed over the line. you understand what i'm saying, i guess, don't you?" "you're doing a fool play, young feller, believe me," spoke up the man called waffles, thinking it was up to him to stick in his oar. "they ain't many men as would dar' talk to the kunnel like you done. better hand the boy over to him; he's his uncle, and has a right to take charge of him." "that's a lie!" burst out aleck, angrily. "he came around our home, and tried every which way to get mother to just tell him what she knew about the mine, promising all sorts of shares if only she'd trust him; but since she didn't know a single thing about where it lay, and wouldn't believe him on oath, either, course she didn't make any arrangement. but he ain't any relation of mine." "it wouldn't make any difference if he was, aleck; when you say you don't want anything to do with kracker, that settles it," and thad all this while kept his eyes fixed on the big man, because he believed the other to be just full of treachery and all kinds of trickery, so that he would be ready to do something desperate if only he thought he could take the young scoutmaster by surprise, and off his guard. "you don't understand the matter at all," complained the big man, with something like a whine in his gruff voice now, showing that he was pretty nearly cowed. "how is that?" demanded the other, instantly. "i'm meaning to be his friend, and the friend, of his folks," kracker continued. "funny way you have of showing your friendly feelings, then, i must say," declared thad, with scorn in his voice; "making him a prisoner, trying to force him to give up a secret you choose to think he carries; and when he refuses to take you at your word, putting him there on that ledge, to starve, or face a horrible death in perhaps falling down a couple of hundred feet." kracker looked a little confused, but it was only a flash in the pan. such a thing as shame was foreign to his nature. for years he had been used to browbeating almost every person with whom he had had dealings. the fact that first of all a mere slip of a woman had dared defy him, and then her boy did the same, nettled him beyond description; and he had arrived at desperate measures at the time aleck, so unfortunately for the boy, fell into his hands. and now it galled kracker to see how he and his two helpers were being actually held up by a parcel of half grown lads. why, it would seem as though some mockery of fate had taken hold of his fortunes, and was finding keen pleasure in adding to his humiliation. he would have liked to rush upon these cool boyish customers, and to have trampled them under foot, as he had possibly done many men in times past, when he was less huge in his proportions, and could get around better. but somehow he did not dare attempt it. perhaps it was the display of weapons that awed him; and yet colonel kracker was accustomed to seeing such things, and knew how to take them at their true value. then it may have been the manner of the spokesman of the little party that had so depressing an effect upon the bully. why, what was the world coming to, when mere boys began to hold the whip hand, and shape things as they pleased? he started to talk, but spluttered so much he could not make intelligible sounds. and his round moon face had taken on a deep red hue again, until it bordered on the purple. thad, who had some knowledge of medicine, as we have seen on numerous occasions, really began to wonder whether the bulky man might not be getting perilously near the border line, and taking chances with a sudden attack of apoplexy, or else something else along those lines. once or twice thad had seen something move back of the three men. he dared not take his eyes off them long enough to look carefully, and at first could not decide whether it was a prowling wolf, bold enough to come thus near the camp in broad daylight; or a human being. he even suspected at one moment that possibly the invaders might have been in greater numbers than any of the scouts dreamed; and that some of them were even then creeping around, with the idea of turning the tables on the boys by a sudden coup. but that idea went glimmering, when he contemplated the utter impossibility of any foe crawling across the bare and open stretch of rock extending between their camp, and the foot of the rise. it certainly could never be done; and with the maine boy keeping watch on things from his eyrie amid the piled-up rocks. then what? why, to be sure, it must be the fox. the young crow had vanished, thad remembered, at the approach of the trio of prospectors. just where he had gone the patrol leader had neither known, nor cared, at the time. he seemed to have some reason for fearing either kracker, or one of the two lesser rascals with him; and appeared desirous of keeping out of their sight. thad also remembered that the indian boy possessed a gun. he only hoped he would not do anything rash; but then he had been present when the scoutmaster spoke to those under him; saying that as members of the great organization that made for peace, they must not use their firearms unless as a very last resort; and then only to cripple their enemies. the crow had nodded his head with the rest when thad asked for this assurance; and surely an indian keeps his word. there, once again his head poked up into view, and this time so close to the men that thad saw the fox had been stealthily creeping nearer all the time. did he have some object in his movements, or were they caused simply by curiosity to see how close he could get, unobserved, to the one he seemed to fear? seeing that kracker was too furious to even control his voice, the shorter fellow, whom thad took to be waffles, again put in his talk. "it's plain to be seen you critters don't know the kunnel," he observed, bitterly, just as though he himself had had a long experience, and knew what it meant to stir up that vile temper too far. "he never gives a thing up. he's jest like a bulldog that gits a grip. ye may chase us off this time; but we'll stick like a plaster; and in the end git what we wants. we allers does." "oh! you don't say?" remarked the scoutmaster, with cutting emphasis; "well, the chances are the lot of you will get what you've been richly deserving a long time back, if you keep on meddling with our affairs. and now, suppose you skip out. we couldn't come to any agreement if we talked an hour. and we have some other things we want to do. take your fat friend away, waffles; he's liable to explode before long, unless you do." amazed at the cool defiance of the boy, the man called waffles mechanically started to obey. but before they had taken half a dozen steps backward, thad heard a strange, hissing sound that he could not understand. the next instant, to his astonishment, he saw waffles pulled over backwards, his feet sprawling awkwardly. his calls for help were half muffled, and for a very good reason; since he was being partly choked by the loop of rope which the young crow indian had thrown over his head with so much dexterity, and then jerked tight. chapter xii. "just turned around, and went away!" it was certainly a time for quick thinking, and speedy action, if the boys expected to avoid a tragedy. naturally enough, kracker and his one remaining companion, hearing the cries of the fallen waffles, would think that they were being actually set upon by their enemies, and that no matter what followed, they must fight. it was to offset this that thad first of all turned his attention. a collision must be averted at all hazards. it would be a terrible thing if the scouts became embroiled in a fight with such men, and either received wounds, or were compelled to give them. and so thad, acting instantly on impulse, darted forward the very second he saw what was happening. fortunately for all parties, the big man having been so dazed by his late baiting did not seem able to grasp the situation quickly enough to draw a weapon before thad was upon him. the only thing the boy did was to snatch the big six-shooter from the hand of kracker, now trembling with various emotions, in which fear may have had as much space as anger. "surround the other, and don't let him raise a hand, boys!" shouted the scoutmaster to those who had followed close at his heels when he thus rushed forward. with the words he turned to where waffles was still sprawling on the ground; but there was now more reason than ever why the fellow could not get up, because some one was sitting astride his body, and threatening him with a knife. of course it was the fox; and he seemed to have a storm of passion in his dark face. but while thad had been prompt to knock the revolver from the hand of kracker, he was just as quick to leap alongside the young crow boy, and grasp his wrist. "give me that knife, fox!" he said sternly. the indian looked up in his face; for a moment it seemed as though he might be about to mutiny, and positively refuse the order; then his whim changed, and opening his fingers he allowed the shining blade to fall to the ground. "ugh! hunt him long time; now find, make give up what snake in the grass steal away from teepee in reservation!" he grunted, disconsolately. "oh! well, if he's got anything that belongs to you, or your people, why you've my full permission to search him, and get it back," thad went on to say, quickly; "only we want no violence here, if we can help it. we scouts generally manage to reach our ends without that, you know, fox. go ahead and see. we'll keep his friends quiet meanwhile, eh, boys?" "that's what we will, thad," said giraffe, who was standing close by, with his gun poking almost into the ribs of the big man with the purple face. "we c'n do it to beat the band, i tell you. and here comes allan in, to have a hand in the game. didn't he keep a bead on the colonel here all the while; and if you hadn't jumped in, and snatched that gun away from him, i warrant allan was just on the point of making him a one-armed man for a while." but thad was not paying much attention to what the talkative giraffe said, his attention being taken up with other matters. the fox had heard him give permission to search the pockets of the short rascal he was holding down, after having caught him in the loop of bumpus' rope, taken slily from the limb of the tree where the fat scout carefully kept it while in camp. the light that flashed athwart the mahogany colored face of the young crow told how pleased he was with this chance that was offered. he immediately started to rummage through the various pockets of waffles. quite naturally the lesser bully objected to such liberties being taken with his person; and it must have galled him more than a little to realize that it was an _indian_, and a boy at that, who was subjecting him to such indignities; for like most men along the border, waffles undoubtedly held indians in contempt. but when he raised his voice in stormy protest thad told him to hush up; besides, the fox leaned over and glared in his eyes with such a suggestive look that waffles, being a coward at heart, gradually subsided, his protests taking the safer form of groans, and grunts, and wriggles, all of which were alike unavailing. presently the crow uttered a cry of joy. "found what you were looking for?" asked thad. "ugh! it is well!" and as he said this the fox held something up. thad may have thought that the indian boy was making a mountain out of a mole-hill, for if it had been left to him, he did not know that he would have willingly paid more than a dollar, at the most, for the object the fox now gripped with such evident delight. but then, at the same time thad realized that associations often have a great deal to do with the value of things. that peculiar strip of deerskin, decorated with colored beads that formed all sorts of designs, must have come down from some of the fox's ancestors. perhaps it was a species of wampum similar to that in use as currency during the earlier days, when men like daniel boone were trying to settle along the ohio river. and then again, it might be that the fore-fathers of the fox always wore this strip of beaded leather when they were invested with the office of chief to the tribe. at any rate, waffles had apparently known of its value, and had stolen it, possibly hoping at some time to receive a rich reward for its safe return; for surely he could not have fancied it because he had any love for beauty, or meant to start a collection of indian relics. "are you satisfied, fox, now that you've recovered your property--if that is all he took from your home?" thad asked. "huh! much like mark thief on him cheek, so know where belong!" grunted the crow boy, longingly. "don't you let him!" almost shrieked the wretched waffles, doubtless fearing that he was going to be tortured, as a penalty for his shortcomings. "them injuns jest like to mark a man all up, when they gits the chanct. tell him to git off'n me! i ain't a goin' to stand fur it! if he so much as puts the p'int of his knife on me i'll vow to----" "keep still, you cowardly thief!" said thad, sternly; and even waffles seemed influenced by the hidden power in the scoutmaster's tone, for he broke off in the middle of a sentence, and finished it by mumbling to himself. speaking to the indian boy thad went on: "run your hand over him again, and hand me any weapon you find. he's in a state where he might lose his head, and get us all into a fight, if we let him go armed." willingly the crow boy did as he was told. the search revealed a big revolver that was apparently the mate of the one thad had knocked from the hand of kracker. "now get that other fellow's rifle, allan," continued the patrol leader, who had mapped out his plan of campaign quickly. he did not trust these men further than he could see them. they were quite unscrupulous; and after having been held up to scorn by this parcel of boys, there was every reason in the world to believe that they would plan a hasty revenge. and the fewer deadly weapons they had in their possession the better the chances would be for peace in that mountain valley. the rifle in particular thad wanted to hold back. with it, damage might be done at a much greater distance than with the smaller arms. and knowing that the boys had long distance modern rifles, possibly kracker and his followers might keep out of range. besides, there was that business of aleck's concerning the hidden mine; they had promised to stand back of him until he had secured full possession; and that was apt to keep them in the neighborhood for some time, always subjected to annoyance from these anxious ones, who longed to secure the prize that had tantalized their species for so long. so the rifle, and what ammunition dickey bird happened to be carrying in a belt slung over his shoulder, fell into the hands of the boys. they also retained possession of one of the heavy revolvers; not that any one fancied the clumsy weapon in the least; but as thad said, "to cut the wings of the party as much as possible." "let waffles get up, now, fox," said thad, when all these matters had been adjusted, much to the admiration of the other scouts, who thought their leader must be just "it" when it came to doing things. the shorter rascal was not slow to gain his feet. he was still boiling over with a sense of insult added to injury, and ready to vent his wrath in offensive words; but thad cut all this short. "listen to me, waffles," he said, sternly again; "we don't care to hear your opinion of anything. take a lesson from the colonel here, who knows when silence is golden. you don't hear him swearing around, and threatening to break a blood-vessel in his mad feeling. he's taking it all as cool as a cucumber. he knows when it's a time to laugh, and when it's a time to cry. now, the sooner you gentlemen give us your room, the better we'll be pleased; and be sure to make it plenty of room, too; because we're all going to be ready to take snapshots at any of you we see, after half an hour has gone by." kracker moved his lips, but strange to say not a sound proceeded from them. the man was so completely overpowered by his emotions that for the time being he had actually lost all power of speech. for this thad was pleased, because he believed that had the big prospector been able to say one half that was bubbling through his mind, they must have been treated to an awful exhibition of hard words. so the three men turned their backs on their tormentors, and walked away; but it was certainly true that their retreat did not smack in the least of the jaunty and threatening manner of their late advance. they had, as giraffe crowed jubilantly, "the wind taken from their sails, and just turned around, and went away." "wonder if we'll see anything more of 'em again?" remarked bumpus, who had really carried himself quite handsomely through it all; though most of the time his eyes had seemed to be fairly bulging from his head, and he could be heard saying words over and over to himself to indicate surprise. "i hope not," remarked thad; "but it wouldn't surprise me if they bobbed up again later on. you see, it's perhaps the biggest stake kracker ever played for; and for years now this hidden mine has kept dancing before him, beckoning him on. he won't give it up easily, i'm afraid. there, look at him turn, and shake his fat fist at us! that shows how he feels about it. he'd just like to have us tied up right now, so he could lay on the whip, good and hard. but boys, after this, it's for us to keep a good lookout all the time. such fellows as kracker and the others wouldn't hesitate at anything, if only they saw a chance to win out." and at his words giraffe and his mates nodded their heads; but there was no loud demonstration; for somehow they seemed to realize the gravity of the game they were now playing, with the long lost mine as the stake. chapter xiii. the safest way of "shooting" a grizzly. meanwhile, how fared the ambitious big-horn hunters? they had started out, filled with a determination to accomplish something, even if it took a couple of days. indeed, the guide had said to thad before leaving that none of them need worry if the party failed to show up at nightfall. the distances were so great, and the mountain climbing of such a stupendous character, that they might have to put in the better part of several days reaching the feeding grounds of the animals, and getting the coveted chance for a shot or two. when noon came it found them climbing steadily. they were entirely out of sight of the valley where the camp lay, so that they could have no knowledge of what was happening in that quarter. but so set were the boys on what had taken them forth, that for the time being they felt perfectly satisfied to quite forget other matters. "talk about your wild country," remarked step hen, when they all came to a little stop to eat a "snack," and rest, so as to be ready for a further climb; "this sure takes the cake for me. why, that poor little blue ridge country ain't in it. you could put it all in a pocket, here, and it wouldn't be missed." "well," remarked smithy, who was bearing up under the strain in a manner that would have pleased the scoutmaster, could he have been along to notice it; "you want to be exceedingly careful how you say that before our hot-blooded southern chum, bob white, unless you're ready to get into a war of words." "oh! excuse me," chuckled step hen, "i wouldn't be guilty of hurting bob's pride even a little bit. i know he thinks that land of the sky country better than most other places. well, it takes a lot of different people to make a world, don't it, fellers?" "that's right, it does," remarked davy jones, who had managed to snap off several pictures as they came along; but was trying to save most of his exposures for things that would count, live subjects, in fact. "how much further do we have to climb, toby?" asked smithy, trying to appear rather indifferent about it, though the others just knew he must feel the strain more than any of them; because smithy had never been much of an athlete, and up to date had yet to play in his first baseball game, strange to say. "wall, that depends on a good many things," the guide responded. "fust place, we don't know as yet jest whar the sheep might be feedin'. i'm headin' for a place whar i seen 'em more'n a few times, when i was prospectin' through this kentry." "oh! so _you_ had a touch of the lost mine fever, too, did you?" quickly remarked smithy; for up to the present time toby had never so much as admitted this fact; but now he grinned and went on: "why, yes, i've taken my look, and had jest the same luck as all the rest what thought they could pick it up. but about them big horns, boys; if they don't happen to be whar i'm headin' fust, then we got to go another two hours. but chances are, we'll find a flock in one of them places, an' git a shot afore nightfall sets in." with this comforting thought, then, the little party once more started out, after an hour's rest and refreshment. smithy was doubtless feeling considerably better. he never complained, even while he limped sadly at times; and once came near losing his grip, when swinging across a bad place in the trail; so that he might even have fallen, only that the ready guide threw an arm around him, having been keeping conveniently near. smithy was proving one thing, at least; he might never turn out to be much of a hunter; but he surely possessed his father's spirit, when it came to game qualities. and when he went back home, all the maiden aunts in creation would never be able to bring that boy back again to the docile habits that had marked him heretofore, thanks to woman training. smithy had had a taste of real outdoors, and would never be satisfied again to live in that old "sissy" rut. it was about an hour after the stop that, without warning, the little party suddenly came upon a monstrous grizzly bear, slowly making his way diagonally across the track they were following. at sight of them the animal reared up on his hind quarters, and seemed to be trying to make up his mind whether he ought to attack these queer two-legged creatures, or go on about his own business. step hen half raised his gun to his shoulder; but instantly the guide clapped a hand over the lock. there were no convenient trees in which they could take shelter from an enraged grizzly; and toby smathers knew too much about these animals to have any wish to find one rushing at them, wild with rage from a wound. "snap--click!" "got him that time!" said a delighted voice. of course it was davy jones. he had swung that kodak of his around, calmly focussed on the grizzly as the animal reared himself up to a terrible height, and then pressed the button. and perhaps after all that was the safest kind of "shooting," when it came to a matter of grizzly bears. even one of this ferocious species would hardly offer any serious objections to having his likeness preserved, for future generations to gaze upon. "keep still, all on you!" warned the guide, who was holding his own rifle in readiness for instant use, should the bear conclude to charge them. "we ain't lost any mountain charleys to-day, as i knows on. big horns is what we kim out after. let him take hisself off, if he will, and a good riddance too, i says." which the enormous beast finally concluded to do. perhaps he had had his dinner, and was not feeling in a particularly aggressive mood. no matter what the cause, all of the boys heaved sighs of positive relief when he shuffled away, looking back over his shoulder several times. "just like he wanted half an excuse for getting his mad up," explained step hen. "he had a chip on his shoulder, all right. and i guess i'm glad you didn't let me start in on him, toby. i might a missed knockin' him over for keeps; and then what a nice pickle we'd all been in. excuse me from tacklin' a moving mountain like that, when trees are as scarce as hens' teeth." "and i'm real glad, too, you didn't fire," admitted smithy, who had turned somewhat white during the minute of dreadful suspense, while he stared at that monster squatted in their path. "i was ready to back you up; but then what could you expect from a greenhorn? i never wished so much that i'd taken to this sort of thing before, as i did when that fearful beast was looking at me, just as if to say, 'you're the tenderest of the lot, smithy, and i think i'll choose you, if i have room for any more inside me.'" the other boys laughed at his words; but on the whole they thought smithy had carried himself rather creditably, all things considered. and each knew, deep down in his secret soul, that his own heart had seemed to stand still; while his blood ran cold, as he stood there, awaiting the decision of the bear. they glanced around rather fearfully for some little time after that; but as nothing was seen again of the mountain terror, they finally concluded that the incident was closed. again their thoughts went out toward the singular game they had come after. many an ambitious hunter had sought to shoot a big-horn sheep in the rockies, day after day, and was compelled to give it up in the end as useless, so toby had informed them. the conditions were generally very difficult, and the game so shy. besides, their sense of impending danger seemed to be abnormally developed; and on account of the rocky formation of the slopes where they found bunches of grass in the crevices, it was often next to impossible to stalk them from leeward. this being the case the tired boys were thrilled to the core when toby finally announced that he had had a glimpse of the game. of course they became wildly excited, and demanded that he show them. creeping carefully up to a certain outcropping rock, they peered around its edge. and for the first time in their lives davy, step hen and smithy found themselves looking upon the queer animals that seem to live in the wildest parts of the rockies, taking delight in bounding from crag to crag, and baffling the skill of the most experienced chamois hunters to get within gun-shot of their lofty eyries. there were seven or eight of the sheep, and as they were really just within gun range the boys could get a splendid view of them. they admired the tremendous curved horns greatly, and step hen quivered with eagerness to say that he had shot a rocky mountain sheep all by himself; while davy clicked his camera several times, so that he at least might have a picture, in case they could get no nearer. "i can't be sure of even hitting one from here," whispered step hen, turning appealingly to the guide. "ain't it possible to creep up closer, toby? oh! please fix it for us, won't you?" just as though the guide had it in his power to do anything they wanted. but fortunately the lay of the mountain allowed toby to arrange it; and he soon mapped out a route that they might crawl along, keeping well hidden from the feeding sheep, and getting gradually closer. besides, it happened that luck was working overtime in their favor; because the animals happened to be feeding toward them. now only two or three could be seen, nibbling at the tufts of grass, or leaping across some small fissure that tried to block them from other tempting pastures; and then again the whole seven would be in sight at the same moment. after advancing slowly and carefully for some time toby made motions that they dare not go any further. he also let them know by signs that, as the sheep were still coming in a line toward them, all they had to do was to lie quiet, and wait until the right moment. that was a period of great excitement to the scouts, two of them clutching their guns in hands that would tremble in spite of them; while the third was trying to find the best spot to hold his kodak, with a view of snapping off a picture just before the critical second came for shooting. step hen and smithy had even gone so far as to select which of the seven sheep they hoped to get; and as they lay there, peeping out from their rocky shelter, it can be taken for granted that each of them had eyes for his particular quarry only. and then finally toby touched the shoulder of the kodak owner, as a signal that he had better be getting to work. chapter xiv. the sheep hunters. davy jones had made all his arrangements. he had only to press the button, when the slight "click" told that his picture was an accomplished fact, and that if the hunters did as well, the expedition might be set down as a glorious success. davy had carried his shotgun fastened to his back with a strap, while he worked his little camera. now he reached out for the gun, although realizing the folly of trying to do any execution at that distance with buckshot cartridges. "now!" said the guide, suddenly. it would seem as though he spoke aloud purposely, knowing what the effect was apt to be. every feeding big-horn raised its head instantly, and for the space of several seconds stood there as though carved out of stone. a better chance for a shot could not be imagined. "bang!" "whang!" that was smithy firing first, and the second report told that step hen's little thirty-thirty was on the job instantly. one big-horn sheep fell over on the rock, and kicked several times. it might have fallen over the ledge only that somehow the body seemed to become fast in a crotch; and there it lay in a tantalizing position, for only by a most difficult climb downward could it be reached at all. "oh! i hit mine, and he's fallen down there!" cried smithy in a voice that just thrilled with wild exultation; and hardly had he said this than he added, in a deeply crushed tone: "oh! wasn't that too cruel of him now, to just bound off on his horns like they were skies, and get on his feet again? there he goes now, and see him limp, will you, fellows? i hit him, yes, i surely did!" "well, he's gone, and that's the last you're likely to see of him, more's the pity," said step hen; "but look at _my_ game, would you, stuck there in among them rocks? toby, we must manage to get him, some way or other. tell me how it can be done, won't you?" the guide scratched his head, as if himself a bit puzzled. "only one way i kin see, boys," he observed, "and that means a lot more climbing for us." "you mean we'll just have to work around, and get up there above the place where _my_ big-horn lies, as dead as a door nail; is that it, toby?" questioned step hen, perhaps unconsciously placing great emphasis on that pronoun; nor could he be blamed for feeling proud, if half that the guide had told them concerning the difficulties encountered by hunters of rocky mountain sheep were true. "just what i had in mind," replied toby. "then let's make a start," urged step hen. "my stars! i wouldn't like to lose that splendid fellow for anything. just think of having that pair of horns to put in our club room at home, davy. i hope you got a good picture, too; because we c'n have an enlargement taken, and hang it under _my_ horns." "i don't see any growing out of your head, yet, step hen," chuckled davy, as he and the third scout fell in behind the others, and started forth. one thing made it a little easier now; they did not have to be so particular about moving softly, since their aim had been accomplished, and they had shot their bolt. but the way was rough enough at the best. smithy had a hard time of it. he was forever bruising his hands, for they were not so tough in the palms as those of the other boys, who had been accustomed to work and hard play. besides, often he took a little slide and in this fashion tore his trousers as well as made quite a gash in his leg. but the other boys rather fancied that smithy, unable to wholly overcome his former love for fine clothes, grieved more on account of that big rent in his khaki trousers, than he did for the bleeding leg, though it must have pained him considerably. still, he did not murmur; smithy was showing much more grit than either of the others had ever dreamed he possessed. like bumpus, it only seemed to need a fitting opportunity to come to the surface; as is the case with many backward boys. as they turned an angle of the rocks, step hen gave a shout. "what's this? what's this?" he called. "oh! please don't shoot!" shrilled smithy, wonderfully excited again; "it must be the sheep i struck with my bullet; see how the poor thing drags that leg after him? let me have the pleasure of knocking him over, and putting him out of pain?" "get busy then, or he'll give you the slip after all. quick, smithy, or i'll be tempted to shoot him myself. whoop! you did it that time, smithy! good boy!" and step hen fairly danced in his excitement. smithy had made good. how he did it, he never could tell; but somehow, when he just pointed his gun in a general way toward the escaping big-horn, and pulled the trigger, why, the already badly wounded animal fell over, gave a couple of last kicks, and then lay still. but strange to say, smithy was less given to excitement over his exploit than either of the other boys. as they all bent over the big-horn to admire his sturdy frame, and the head ornaments that distinguish him among all his kind, smithy was seen to stroke the hairy back of the dead sheep, and clinch his teeth hard together, as though after all he felt half sorry that a sudden whim had caused him to actually take a life that nothing could restore. evidently it would be some time before smithy could so far overcome his former gentle traits of character to feel the hunter's fierce lust for his quarry. "but this ain't getting _my_ big-horn, you know," remarked step hen, as though the feel of those massive curved head-pieces had thrown him into a new fever of impatience to secure his own trophies; for it would be a shame if the greenhorn of the party should be the only one to exhibit positive evidences of their having shot game. "come along then, and we'll soon git around to whar p'raps ye might climb down, if so be ye're keerful not to slip," and the guide once more started off. "oh! do we abandon my big-horn, then?" cried smithy, as though half tempted to refuse to leave the spot on what might prove to be a wild-goose chase; to him it seemed like leaving the substance to try and catch the shadow. "we kin come back this way, and take keer of it then," said toby; and with this assurance smithy had to rest content. after some further scrambling along the face of the steep slope, digging their toes into the shale that often crumbled under them, when they might risk a serious ride down the side of the mountain only for the fact that they managed to cling fast with their hands, they reached a point where it was extra rocky, and a pretty sheer descent. "down thar your sheep lies," the guide said, pointing as he spoke. step hen immediately laid his gun aside, and crawling to the edge he looked over. "i don't see hide or hair of it, though, toby?" he complained. "no more you kin," returned the other, with decision marked in both voice and manner; "but all the same it's down thar, not more'n a hundred feet at most. i got my bearin's fine. look off yonder, and yell see whar we lay when ye did the shootin' at the big horns." "he's right, step hen," said davy jones, after looking to where the guide was pointing so confidently. "i'd know that rock among a thousand. i'll never forget it, either. and yes, your sheep must be lying below us right now." "i think the same, fellows," asserted smithy, who was beginning to feel that he ought to give his opinion of things after this, since he was now an actual _boni fide_ hunter, and had even secured one of the most wary of all wild animals in the whole west. "but why don't i see it, then?" demanded step hen, always very stubborn, and needing to be shown. "ye see," the guide explained, "the face of the mountain backs in some, in a general way. that tells the story. the only thing that bothers me is, if i had ought to let ye try and get down thar, so's to shove the sheep off, and land it at the bottom; or make the riffle myself." "oh! i wouldn't think of letting you try it," declared step hen, quickly. "i'm young and spry, and used to climbing up cliffs and such stunts, besides," he added as a clincher, "it's _my_ big horn, you know." had either of the other boys backed him up, the chances were that toby smathers might have refused to give his permission; for he knew that there would naturally be considerable risk involved in such an undertaking; but then both davy and his comrade, smithy, saw nothing so very unusual in the proceeding, the one because he was not accustomed to judging such things; and davy on account of being such a clever gymnast himself, always doing dangerous tricks, such as hanging from a high limb of a tree by his toes, coming down the outside of a tree by using the branches as a descending ladder, and all such "crazy antics," as giraffe called them. "here, somebody hold my gun," said step hen, with an air of resolution. "you're going to be some keerful, i take it?" questioned the guide, dubiously. "course i am; what d'ye take me for, toby? think i want to go to my own funeral in a hurry? not much. oh! i c'n be careful, all right. don't you worry about me. and i want that big-horn worse than ever, i do. here goes, then." he started down the face of the almost perpendicular precipice. there were plenty of places where he could get a good foothold, and secure a grip with his ready hands. the only danger seemed to be, as the guide had warned him, in having some apparently secure rock suddenly give way under his weight. he must watch out for that constantly, and never take a fresh step unless he was sure he could maintain his hold upon the last knob of rock. "call out if we can help any, step hen," was what davy said, as they saw the last of their companion's head just about to vanish, where the first inward dip to the precipice occurred. "sure i will, and just you remember our signal code, davy. i may have to use it if i get caught tight in a crack, and can't break away nohow. good-bye, be good to yourselves, now, and don't go to believin' that there's any chance of me losing my grip." then he vanished from their sight. a dreadful clatter of falling stones gave the two scouts still above a case of the "trembles" immediately afterwards, and davy called at the top of his voice: "i say, step hen!" "all right;" welled up from somewhere below them; "did that on purpose to test a stepping place. ketch a weasel asleep, before you get me to stand on a loose place, why, it's as easy as fallin' off a log, this is." chapter xv. a fierce fight with eagles. but although step hen spoke so flippantly, he was far from being as confident as he pretended. in fact, as he proceeded downward, he found his task getting more and more difficult. one thing that bothered him was the getting up again. he just felt sure that he would not be able to accomplish it; but then, if it came to the worst, doubtless the balance of the descent was no harder to manage than this; and after first sending his big-horn down, he might pick his own way after it, and the others could follow as best they saw fit. step hen was a self-reliant boy, at any rate; sometimes the scoutmaster feared too much so. and since he had said he was going to get that game, and was already part way down the face of the rocky wall, there was nothing to be done but keep right along, which he proceeded to do. he could not get the slightest glimpse of his comrades. they were somewhere up above him; but just as the guide had declared, the face of the wall fell away in places, and this kept taking him further beyond their range of vision constantly. whenever he could do so without imperiling his support, step hen would crook his neck, and look downward, in the hope of seeing where the sheep lay. he could not help thinking how much easier this effort would come for him, if a kindly nature had given him the extensive neck that giraffe possessed. "there it is!" he exclaimed, joyfully, as his anxious eyes fell upon an object just a short distance below, and which he knew must be the crumpled body of his big-horn. "and i ought to get there now without breaking my neck. wow! that was a near tumble, all right! careful, boy, careful now! them horns of yours ain't growed big enough to drop on, like the sheep do." he halted for a full minute, not that he was so tired in the arms, but to recover from the shock received when he came so near falling. then once more resuming his labor, he presently had the satisfaction of dropping beside the motionless body of his victim. "bigger horns than smithy's had!" was his first exclamation, as he bent over, the better to see; and at the same moment he became conscious of the fact that some buzzards, or some other big birds, were swooping around close by, making him think they had looked on his dead sheep as their next dinner. "guess p'raps i'd better be tossing it over here, and letting it roll down to the bottom; then i c'n foller the best way there is, and----" something gave him a sudden fierce blow that knocked step hen down on his hands and knees; and he might have rolled over the edge of the narrow shelf, only for his good luck in catching hold of the sheep's rounded horns. "quit that, you silly! you nearly knocked me over that time!" he shouted angrily; his very first thought being that one of the other boys, presumably davy jones, because he was so smart about climbing everywhere, had followed after him, and was thus rudely announcing his arrival close on the heels of the first explorer. but as step hen raised his head to look, to his surprise he failed to see any one near him. a dreadful suspicion that davy might have pitched over the edge of the narrow shelf, after striking him, assailed the scout; and he was almost on the point of looking, when suddenly there was a rush of great wings, and he dropped flat on his face just in time to avoid being struck a second time. "whew! eagles, and mad as hops at me for comin' here!" gasped step hen, as, raising his head cautiously, like a turtle peeping out of its shell, he caught sight of two wheeling birds that came and went with tremendous speed. he noted the spread of their immense wings, and it seemed to step hen as if in all his experience he had never before gazed upon more powerful birds than those two rocky mountain eagles. perhaps they had a nest near by, with young eaglets in it, and fancied that he was bent on robbing them. then again, the big birds may have decided that they could make good use of the fine quarry that had lodged in the rocks so conveniently near their nest; and resented the coming of another claimant. but no matter what the contributing cause might be, they were undoubtedly as "mad as a wet hen," as step hen afterwards declared, in telling of his adventure there on that shelf of rock, fully a hundred feet from the top and the bottom, on the steep face of the mountain. his first thought was how he could fight back, for he saw that he was to be at the mercy of the great birds that swooped down again and again, striking viciously at him with claws, beaks and powerful wings, until the boy was bleeding in half a dozen different places. in casting his eyes about, even as he fought with his bare hands, and shouted for assistance at the top of his voice, step hen made a little discovery. a tree must have grown up above at one time or other, for there, stuck fast in a crevice of the rock he saw a pretty good-sized remnant of a branch that he believed would make a fair cudgel, better than his bare hands at any rate, with which to strike at the attacking eagles. when he had clutched this in his eager hand the boy felt more confidence; and watching his opportunity he did manage to meet the swoop of the next bird with a whack that sent it whirling back. but they quickly learned to adopt other tactics, now that he was armed, both of them coming together from opposite directions; so that unable to dodge, or hit back properly step hen again found himself getting the worst of the fight. would his companions be able to do anything for him; or was he to be left there on that shelf of rock, to either conquer his savage enemies, alone and unaided, or succumb to their ferocious assaults? all the while he was beating at them with might and main step hen kept up a constant shouting. he had a double purpose in this,--hoping to tempt one of his companions to descend to his rescue, carrying a gun, since they seemed unable to hit the birds from above, though several shots had been fired; and then again it was possible that the sound of a human voice would by degrees cause the eagles to haul off. "take that, will you!" the boy cried, whenever he succeeded in reaching either of his feathered assailants with his club. "come at me again, will you? just wait, and see what happens to you yet! ouch! that hurt some, now! oh! if i could only swing this club around better, without bein' afraid of tumbling over, wouldn't i knock their heads off,--wow! once more you'll have it, will you? see the feathers fly! i b'lieve they're weakenin' some, sure i do; but what about me? i'll bleed to death yet, if they keep on tapping me like that." so step hen went on, shouting and whacking away, doing the best he was able under the circumstances. nobody could ever say at any rate, but what he put up a strapping good fight of it, he kept thinking; but all the same he cast an anxious eye upward whenever he could find a chance, hoping to see a pair of human legs heave in sight, and discover the welcome face of either davy jones or the guide. "bring a gun! bring a gun!" that was about the burden of his shouts. he hoped those above understood what he was saying. the eagles seldom went far outside a given circle, so that they could only be glimpsed from above occasionally; and it was like shooting at a disappearing target in the gallery, to try and hit them under such circumstances. step hen had knocked one of the great birds down for the sixth time, and was dismayed to see that he had not even then disabled it, since it immediately started to fly again, no wing having been broken by his club; when he thought he caught the sound of a human voice close by. then some loose stones rattled down beside him, giving him a thrill of joy; for he knew now reinforcements were on the way, and it nerved him to fight on. another minute, and some one dropped down beside the crouching step hen, who was breathing hard from his exertions, but still full of pluck, as a true scout should always be. "toby!" he called out, in a quavering voice, and looking very grim, with his face so scratched, and streaked with blood; "i'm sure glad to see you; but gladder to notice that you've got your gun! look out! there they come again! dodge, toby, dodge; they're on to you!" but the guide had snatched his gun from about his back, where it had been securely fastened with a stout cord. he had no time to aim or fire just then, only to swing the barrel around, and strike viciously at the swooping bird, that threw its claws forward as it pounced upon him, just as a fish-hawk might do on striking the water. the attack was quickly parried, and now toby also had a streak of blood on his cheek, where one of those furious wings had struck him. now he turned the gun quickly around in his hands. "leave one for me, toby!" pleaded the boy, eagerly. "i ought to have the pleasure of knocking over one of 'em, after what they have done to me. oh! you put it to that gay old robber of honest fish-hawks, sure you did! and he's gone down below-decks for good. give me your gun, toby; i _must_ have it, i tell you!" and the guide, understanding, as well as sympathizing with, the spirit that caused the other to cry out in this fashion, did thrust his repeating rifle into the hands of step hen, after throwing the discharged shell out, and sending a fresh one into the firing chamber. with a satisfaction that words could never paint, step hen followed the swinging form of the remaining eagle as it flew around so as to get in line for another swoop. and just as the great bird started to come down at them, the boy pulled the trigger. his aim was true, and the second eagle pitched forward, whirling over and over as it went tumbling down the face of the descent, just as its mate had done. "hurrah!" shouted step hen, tremendously pleased with the final outcome of the fight with the pair of fierce pirates of the upper air currents; "that's what they get for tackling me, ain't it, toby? we gave 'em what they needed, didn't we? but say, i'm just thinkin' that it's going to be a tough old job for me to get back up where the boys are; and that p'raps we'll have to keep on climbin' down, after shoving the big-horn off the shelf." and the guide, after recovering his breath, which had been used up in his recent hasty movements in coming to the rescue, looking over the edge, admitted that he believed such a course was the only one left to them. chapter xvi. down the slope. "the first thing, then, is to toss this feller overboard," remarked step hen, as he proudly touched the dead big-horn with the toe of his shoe, and tried to assume the air of a conquering hero; but his face was so sore, and his appearance so remarkable, that apparently his manner did not impress the guide very much. "the sooner you get to water, and wash them scratches, the better," said toby. "i've knowed more'n one feller have a bad time from gettin' clawed by eagles; and the doctor said as how 'twar blood poisonin'-like. but seems to me most of that might a kim from you bein' hit by their wings." "just what it did," replied step hen, though he looked a bit anxious. "and goodness gracious! how they could hit with 'em, though. felt like you'd run against an electric fan, or something like that. busted the skin every time too, and made the blood come. but never mind about that, toby; shall i shove this thing over now?" "just as you say," replied the guide; "we'll be apt to find it when we get down; which i hope we can do and be safe, and sound in limb." apparently toby was a little anxious himself about the result of the next step on the programme. the scout accordingly worked the dead sheep loose, and cast it over the edge. he watched it go bounding down with considerable apprehension that the other did not comprehend, until he heard step hen remark in a relieved tone: "didn't break either horn; that's all hunky dory!" "don't you think we ort to let the rest know what we're expectin' to do?" suggested the guide just then. "why, that's a good idea, toby," replied step hen. "and while we can't see our chums, there's a way of communicatin' with 'em. anyhow, i c'n tell 'em to send down a piece of string, and pull up a message i'll write. davy jones knows the code enough for that." he began making a series of queer sounds, that at first considerably amused the old guide; but when an answer came from far above, toby realized that there did promise to be more merit in the signal code of the scouts. then a little later step hen exclaimed triumphantly: "here comes the end of the string, toby, with a stone tied to it. if they can swing it in now, we'll be able to fasten this message i've written to the end of it, and send it up. then the boys will know what we expect to do; and they'll try and get down some other way, to join us before night comes on. because it'd be kind of tough if we couldn't bunk together through the night." after some manipulation with the piece of broken branch they succeeded in getting hold of the dangling cord, which smithy had carried along with him, because of some reason or other, possibly from the same principle that caused bumpus to carry that rope around wherever he went, thinking that it might come in handy sometime or other. having dispatched the note to the other scouts by means of the cord channel, step hen and the guide started to descend from their perch. the way was anything but easy, especially to the boy. he had been weakened more than he realized by his hard struggle with those two fierce eagles. and perhaps his numerous wounds, slight as they seemed on the surface, made him less capable of keeping such a firm grip as he had before reaching the ledge. but the same old indomitable pluck held good. when a drop of perspiration, mingled with blood from those scratches, dimmed his vision, step hen would dash one hand impatiently across his eyes, and then go right on clambering downward. toby kept as near the boy as he could. had he possessed a rope he would certainly have fastened himself to step hen, as a means of protecting the lad against an ugly fall; just as the glacier climbers do when ascending to the snow-covered summit of some lofty mountain peak; so that should one slip, another, having a firm hold at the time, could bear him up. again and again he cautioned his companion against trusting his weight on some inviting projecting knob of stone, which he himself had tried, and found wanting; for the guide had insisted on going first as a sort of pilot; when his real object was to be in position to clutch hold of the boy, if possible, should step hen make a bad move and fall. but they finally managed to reach the bottom without any accident happening, for which both of them were thankful enough. they threw themselves upon the rocks, utterly exhausted, and panting for breath. step hen was indeed very near a complete collapse; for the boy had been under a terrible strain recently, both mentally and bodily. after a little, however, when he had pumped much good air into his system, and regained some of his lost breath, step hen remembered. "i hadn't ought to be lyin' around this way, when those fellers up yonder are all tied up in knots waitin' to know whether we've made the riffle, or got stuck part way down. so here goes to tell 'em. they know from my note what we want 'em to try and do next." so he started in again with those queer sounds that seemed to climb up the face of the cliff as though on ladders that were invisible. and there came back similar sounds, which step hen listened to with eagerness, finally crying out: "they understand that we're safe down here; and davy says as how he thinks he knows a way to work around. and now, since we've got some time on our hands, toby, let's look about for a place to spend the night." but toby had not forgotten something that he had spoken of before. "as for the camp, i'll take keer of that," he said; "while you drop down aside this leetle crick here, and wash your face and hands. the sooner ye git them 'ere scratches clean, the better, i reckon. heaps of trouble kin grow out of a little keerlessness in that regard." "i guess you're right," replied step hen, trying to make a grimace, but without much success, because the blood had dried on his face, and made it feel as stiff as though it had been duly starched on a washday at home. so he complied with the ruling of the guide; and while the cool water made his cuts smart more or less, to begin with, still there was a sense of satisfaction in the cleanly feeling that soon followed. when he got back to the side of the guide again step hen discovered that toby had found the place he was looking for, close to where the big-horn lay. already smoke was beginning to rise, showing that giraffe might not be the only one in the party who knew just how to go about making a cooking fire. the scout watched toby with considerable interest. he learned that when a man has lived all his life in the borderland, he has picked up a good many useful little wrinkles that a wideawake scout ought to know; and step hen determined to profit by his experience in the company of toby smathers. besides, now that all the excitement was over, step hen secretly confessed to feeling more or less tired; though had any of his mates been around, he would doubtless have scorned to display this fact. it was nice to just stretch out by the cheery blaze, and see some one else quite willing to do the work. the guide was only too glad to assume all the burden of getting supper, such as it promised to be. secretly he was proud of step hen. he had started in with rather a poor opinion of the boy's qualities, and thought him given somewhat to boasting, and practical jokes. but he had found that he was full of grit, gave promise of being a good hunter, and was ready to attempt any sort of task, it mattered not how difficult. the way step hen fought those two eagles, alone and unaided, on that narrow ledge, had aroused the ardent admiration of toby. while he worked, he cast many a secret glance toward where step hen was stretched out; and each time the guide would give a little satisfied nod, and a chuckle, just as though he were passing a critical judgment, and saying to himself: "all wool, and a yard wide; he'll do, i sure reckons. he's got the real stuff in him, anybody with one eye kin see. and i'm sure goin' to tell mr. scout master that same, too. he deserves to be put up a few notches arter this." could step hen but have read what was passing through toby's mind just then, he would have thrilled with deepest satisfaction. why, the laurel wreath of the victor could not have given him one half the solid pleasure that would come could he but know he had won the admiration of this experienced forest ranger, and trapper-guide. meanwhile, after he had the cooking fire under full way, toby proceeded to skin the rocky mountain sheep, making sure to handle the excellent horns carefully, as step hen begged, since they were almost perfect. "he ain't a youngster, and at the same time he don't seem to be so _very_ old," the guide remarked, as he worked, cutting up the sheep; "so, p'raps we kin get our teeth workin' on him some. i never was much of a hand for this sorter meat; but in such a pinch as this i kin eat even mutton. anyhow, it'll sure keep us from goin' hungry, and that's the game right now. i hopes as how the other boys kin get here afore dark sets in." "that makes me remember i'm neglecting my duty; because i ought to be lettin' out a whoop now and then, just to sort of guide davy and smithers." with that step hen managed to get to his feet, though he was surprised to find how stiff he had become, just sitting there. toby grinned to see him wince, as he stretched first one arm, and then a leg. he knew what it meant. the strain of the recent engagement on the ledge, besides all that hanging desperately to the face of the precipice, was telling on the boy's muscles. when step hen let out a loud cry, he was pleased to get a response in the well-known voice of davy jones. the call came from a point not far away, and toby immediately declared that the other scouts must be about half-way down. "they're agoin' to make it, all right, i do believe!" step hen exclaimed. "looks that way, for a fact," the guide responded. the day was almost done, at least down at the foot of that great wall that stretched upward for hundreds of feet. lying there, resting the back of his head on both hands, and looking upward to where some buzzards were wheeling against the sky, step hen could hardly believe that he had actually descended all that distance in safety. he shuddered as he contemplated what an ugly tumble he must have experienced, if those fighting eagles had succeeded in knocking him off the ledge. and just as the shades of approaching night began to gather around them, with a rather appetizing odor from cooking meat filling the immediate neighborhood, there came a hail from a point close at hand. "hello! there, glad to see you're able to sit up, and take notice, after all the row you kicked up. first thing smithy and me want to know is, what under the sun was it all about?" and with these words the two scouts staggered into camp, throwing themselves wearily down beside their chum. chapter xvii. troubles thicken for young aleck. the scouts were pretty hungry, and they united in pronouncing the supper "just prime." but then the conditions would not allow of any other verdict; and as toby regretfully declared, they all had good teeth, while his were getting "frayed and worn." but after a period of stress and storm, a haven does seem good indeed; and sitting there, chatting, alongside that blaze, which had now been built up into a real camp-fire, the three boys were feeling a thousand per cent better than they had a couple of hours before. of course step hen had told all about his great combat with the two fighting eagles. he even led the doubting davy along the foot of the descent, with a blazing torch in his hand, until they had found both of the dead birds, which they lugged back to camp with them, to show to the wondering smithy as positive evidence of the truth of the story. and after that the boys would surely feel more respect for step hen's prowess as a hunter, and the possessor of unlimited nerve. smithy declared that nothing on earth could tempt him to try and descend that precipice where step hen had done it; and was amazed when davy announced that they had accomplished a feat very nearly as hazardous; only, coming a yard at a time, they had not noticed the danger. "i only hope nothing will run off with my sheep," smithy had remarked, plaintively, at one time, after they had finished their meal, and were just lounging around, taking things easy. "how about that, toby?" asked davy jones; "will wolves be apt to rob smithy of his hard-earned laurels?" "don't know anything about that ere," grinned the guide; "but if so be you mean will they come around, and eat his mutton, i'm afraid that's jest what'll happen. but," he added, as smithy gave a plaintive little bleat, "they cain't eat them big horns, you know; and i reckons as how that's the main thing you wants, ain't it?" "oh! yes, if that is so, i shall stop worrying. but i surely do want to carry that souvenir back with me; because, you know that is my first game," smithy went on to say. "wall," remarked the guide, with a nod, "you had ought to be proud of 'em; 'cause they ain't many fellers as kin say the fust wild game they ever knocked down was a big-horn. i've knowed old hunters as couldn't ever git one, try as hard as they might. we had a heap of luck to-day, let me tell you, boys, a heap of it. and for mutton, 'twan't so _very_ tough, either." "oh! i thought i heard some one give a funny little cough just then!" exclaimed step hen, suddenly sitting up straight. "you was correct at that," said the guide, quietly drawing his rifle closer to him, as though caution were second nature. "there is some parties accomin' down the canyon here, and headin' for our fire." "the boys, mebbe!" exclaimed davy jones. "no, i don't think they be," toby smathers added, straining his eyes to catch the first glimpse of the newcomers; for in this wild region, strangers are not to be always recognized as friends until they have proven themselves such. "there's two of 'em," remarked step hen, "and they're men, i c'n see." "hello! there, don't shoot, we're friends, all right!" called a voice, so peculiar in itself that toby immediately laughed aloud, as though he had no difficulty in recognizing it. "is that sheriff bob mcnulty?" he asked. "nobody else," came the reply; "and unless i'm mighty far off my base, that must be my old friend, toby smathers, the forest ranger." the two men came on to the fire. the boys saw that the one whom toby had called sheriff bob was a tall, angular man, wearing the regulation wide-brimmed soft hat, and long black coat that sheriffs out in the wild and woolly west seem to so frequently think a badge of their calling. he impressed them as a man of sterling character; but they did not entertain the same sort of an opinion toward his companion, who was a middle-aged man, lanky and sinister in appearance, and with a crafty gleam in his shifting eyes that somehow gave step hep and davy jones a cold feeling of distrust. "why, what's this mean, toby; you a forest ranger camping with a parcel of kids?" exclaimed the sheriff, throwing a quick, interrogative glance toward his companion, which the other answered with a negative shake of the head, after giving each of the three boys a keen look, while a shade of bitter disappointment crossed his crafty face. "oh! it was an off season for me, sheriff bob," replied the guide, laughing; "an' i thought i'd try playing guide again, this time to a bunch of boy scouts what come out to the rockies from the far east, to hunt big game." the sheriff grinned broadly, as though that struck him a good deal in the nature of a joke. "boy scouts, eh?" he continued, as he calmly sat him down by the fire; "well, i've heard a heap about them, but these are the first i've set eyes on. they brought their nerve along with 'em i reckon, toby?" and he chuckled again while speaking. "that's the way i thought about 'em fust pop, sheriff bob," remarked toby, in a quiet, convincing tone; "but i've found out that i sized 'em up a lot too low. they's eight of 'em in the bunch, and the rest is keepin' camp down by that willow that stands by the spring hole in the valley. we came out to-day to try and get a big-horn." the sheriff sniffed the air at this. "say, you don't mean to tell me they shot a sheep?" he demanded. "two of the same, and at a pretty fair distance too. we got 'em both. this here, who is known as smithy, had never killed anything bigger'n a mouse afore, i understands, an' precious few of 'em; while step hen here, he's had considerable experience up in maine, which is said to be a good hunting ground." the sheriff pursed up his lips, and arched his eyebrows. "well," he remarked, "i'd like to shake hands with you both, boys, because you've done what i never yet accomplished in my life--shot a big-horn." "but sho! that ain't near all," declared the proud toby; "they got a couple of big grizzlies in the bargain; and right this very day step hen, he clumb half way down that cliff thar, to shove his sheep loose; and had to fight for his life agin a pair o' cantankerous eagles what had a nest up thar. i went to his help, an' thar the birds lie, sheriff bob!" the officer whistled again. "this _is_ a surprise, i must say," he remarked. "but toby, if so be you could spare us a mouthful of that same mutton, why, we'd be obliged. we've got to be going in a little while, because, you see, i'm up here to assist this gentleman, who's name is mr. artemus rawson, and a lawyer from denver, look up a boy who's his nephew, and who's stolen something his uncle values a heap. we learned he was last seen on the hike for this country roundabout; and i'm bound to find him, by hook or by crook. i always do, you remember, toby; none of them ever gets away from sheriff bob." step hen almost cried out, such was the thrill that shot through him. almost instinctively his eyes sough those of davy jones, and a look of intelligence passed between them. rawson, the sheriff said his name was, and he was a lawyer from denver, looking for a boy who was his nephew, and whose name therefore was likely to be the same! surely he must be referring to their new friend, aleck. but the sheriff had declared the boy to be a thief; and they could never believe aleck that, with his frank face, his clear eyes, and engaging manners. there must be some sort of a mistake; or else this so-called artemus rawson was a fraud of the first water, and just trying to get possession of that secret connected with the hidden mine, the same as colonel kracker! step hen put a finger on his lips, and that told davy to keep quiet, so that the others might not suspect their comrades in the other camp were entertaining the very boy these men sought at that particular minute. and when he had the chance, step hen whispered a few words to smithy that rather startled that worthy, who had apparently not noticed what was being said when the sheriff was talking; he having hurried over to try and cut some slices from the carcase of the big-horn, as he wished to get into the habit of doing these handy things about camp. there now remained but toby; and from the sly wink which the guide gave step hen, upon seeing the anxious look on the boy's face, it was plain that he had grasped the situation immediately, and they need not fear that he would betray aleck. while the two men were eating a little later, step hen tried to make up his mind as to what sort of a party this so-called artemus rawson might be. if he indeed proved to be a genuine brother of the man who had discovered the silver lode, and the real uncle of aleck, then he must have been a different sort of a man altogether from the boy's father. on his small, rat-like face scheming was written plainly; and the chances were, step hen concluded, that he too knew something about the "find" aleck had lately made, and was plotting to get possession of that precious chart to the mine. this gave step hen cause for sudden excitement. the sheriff had just said they could not stay all night with toby and his charges; that they were bound in the direction of the valley, called by _business_. then the chances were that they knew something of the boy's plans, and that he might be run across heading into the valley from the other side. they had laid out to meet him on the way, and take him by surprise. what bothered step hen was the fact that the sheriff had just said they were likely to come upon the camp of the scouts on the way, between then and morning, and in case they did, he promised himself the pleasure of dropping in to take a bite of breakfast with the smart scoutmaster and his chums, whom he would like to meet very much. step hen worried over this very nearly all the time the two men were eating. he thought those rat-like eyes of artemus rawson, so-called, were often searching his face, as though the man suspected that he knew something about the boy the sheriff had been engaged to find; and that being the case, the man would even go out of their way to visit the camp of the scouts, to see whether the one they sought might be stopping there. and how under the sun could thad be warned of the impending trouble? chapter xviii. pure pluck. "well, i'm glad they're departed; because somehow i couldn't fancy that mr. rawson the least little bit," remarked smithy, an hour later. "do you really think they have gone for good, toby?" step hen asked, eagerly; "or might they just make believe, and hang around here to see if we had aleck rawson hidden away somewhere?" "oh! they're gone, that's right enough," replied the guide; "but i'm kinder of the notion they'll make it a p'int to pay a visit to the other camp by mornin', and p'raps sneak in on 'em by surprise like." "then you're of a mind that they have suspicions?" asked step hen. "that thar artemus rawson i reckon he allers has s'picions of everybody," replied toby; "an' i seen him watchin' you two boys pass winks an' nods when the sheriff, he happened to say the gent's name was rawson." "then he must have guessed that we knew something about aleck?" declared davy. "reckon as how he did," toby responded. "but if that was so, how did it come that he never once asked us if we knew a boy by the name of aleck rawson?" step hen went on. "he was jest a leetle too slick for that," the guide answered. "he knowed that you'd made up your mind to deny everything; and he guessed how the land laid. so right now, i shouldn't wonder a bit but what he's atellin' bob all about it; an' showin' him how they'll as like as not find the boy they want right smack in the camp of the boy scouts." "you're right, toby!" cried step hen. "now i remember that the sheriff seemed a little bit inclined to put up all night with us; but it was the other who said he wanted to be on the move. he even asked how long it would take to reach the main valley over on the other side of this ridge, by followin' the canyon route; and vowed he was good for a few hours' tramp, if the sheriff was agreeable." "yes, and he told how one of their hosses kim down lame, so they had to leave both animals in a place to rest up while they was in the mountains," remarked the guide; "but it's sure too bad the way things is a settin' for that boy." "you mean aleck, i guess, don't you, toby?" asked step hen. "yes, aleck rawson. i wanted to see the kid git that mine his dad found years ago; but seems to me the woods is full of people as think they orter have a claim on it, afore the fambly of jerry rawson. if so be this ole chap is a uncle to the boy, he's a bad egg; i kin see that in his face. but sheriff bob thinks he's doin' the right thing in tryin' to arrest aleck; and he'll take him away, if he ever lays eyes on him. i say, it's too bad." "if we only could warn them?" said smithy, disconsolately. "mebbe we can," remarked step hen, eagerly looking at the guide in the same breath, as though it depended a good deal upon toby whether this idea could be carried out, or not. "oh! do you really mean it, step hen?" demanded smithy, brightening up; for he seemed to be conscious of a new sense of reliance in the other nowadays, something similar to that he felt in thad himself; step hen had been "doing things," and that alone breeds confidence. "i'm wanting to ask toby something first, before i promise," remarked the other, cautiously, as became one who valued his word not lightly. "go on, then; what is it?" asked the guide. "think hard, please," step hen continued, very soberly; "and tell me if you believe you could take me to a place, not a great ways off, where we would be able to see the tents of the home camp, if daylight was here." toby's face turned into a grin; evidently he grasped the idea that had flashed into the boy's mind. after having seen how giraffe had "talked" with aleck by means of "fire flashes," when the rawson boy was away up on that ledge of the cliff, toby was ready to believe these wonderful scouts capable of almost anything in the line of "next miracles." "say, yes, i kin do that same now; that is, if you think you'd be able to climb a leetle bit more," he broke out with. "oh! i am not all tuckered out yet," declared step hen, proudly; "a bit sore from my scratches, and that funny business, when i had to jump around so lively with two savage eagles tryin' to tear my eyes out; but you just show me, toby, and see if i don't toe the mark, like a scout always should." "i'm sure you will," said toby, admiringly; and the look on his face gave step hen a sense of reward for all he had suffered; in fact he could not remember ever feeling so pleased before, because he knew toby smathers was reckoned a prime judge of men, as they ran. "how long would it take us to get up there?" asked step hen, carelessly; yet no doubt with more or less anxiety, for he was conscious of the fact that however willing the spirit might be, the flesh was weak; and it meant a double trip, to go and come again. "p'raps half an hour might do it," was the response of the guide. "up a place like this?" gasped smithy, pointing to the wall near them. "well, i should hope not," said davy jones. "they'd be crazy to try that sort of thing, with only the moonlight to help." step hen did not say anything, but nevertheless he waited with bated breath to hear the reply of the guide, and seemed easier in his mind when toby remarked: "i don't doubt as he'd foller me, if i sez we must climb up to the top of that same cliff agin; but 'tain't necessary. this time we foller a canyon up, till we gets to a p'int as gives ye a view of the valley. i don't sure know, but i reckons we orter to be able to ketch a glimpse of the fire." "then let's start right now!" cried step hen; "i'm all worked up with eagerness to block the little game that the old rawson uncle is settin' up for poor aleck. we said that we'd see the boy through, and we're going to do it, or drop in our tracks atryin'." he managed to get on his feet, though only with an effort. "oh! yes, i admit i'm some stiff," he said in answer to smithy's look of sympathy; "and i'd like as not let davy do it in my place; only he ain't up in sendin' messages as much as i am. wish giraffe was here; he's the boss hand at that. but p'raps i c'n make thad understand. i only hope we get the camp, all right, that's all." it was the spirit that makes heroes that forced step hen to quit that cozy camp, where he was feeling so nice and comfortable; and follow after the tireless guide, when he walked on up the canyon. but they would not hear a single groan from him, if he had to make his lips bleed, biting them with his teeth. step hen had always wondered just how the old martyrs felt, when they were being led to the stake; he believed he knew now; for he experienced a fierce sense of exultation with every twinge of pain that walking gave him; but with set teeth he kept grimly on. that was a long half hour to the scout. he would never forget it to his dying day. and when toby finally, after what seemed an eternity, announced that they must be very close on the point where in the moonlight much of the big valley could be seen dimly beyond, step hen mentally thanked his stars again and again. presently toby turned, and looked. "here she is!" he remarked; and the boy grunted in reply; for there may be times when the spirit of thanksgiving is too deep for utterance. "i see her," toby remarked almost immediately afterwards. "do you mean the fire, toby?" demanded step hen. "it cain't be anything else, even though they've let it get low. and now we've a job afore us, to get some blaze started right here. wood ain't too plenty round these parts. let's look for some." but when step hen started after him, the guide made him sit down to rest, promising to come to him when the fire was good and ready. "your part of the work will begin about that time; let me do this fire makin'," the good-hearted guide insisted; and the boy was only too willing to sink down. a short time afterwards, when toby came to announce that the fire was in full blast, with plenty of good brands that might be used for torches; he found poor step hen sound asleep, just as he had dropped, being utterly exhausted. the guide looked down at him with pity. he had taken a great fancy for the plucky scout; and disliked arousing him the worst kind; but there was no other way. step hen had to be shaken half a dozen times before he would consent to open his heavy eyes; then he stared up at toby, as though for the moment he could not place things. "i got the fire started; and there's aplenty of wood handy arter all, for you to use as torches when you signal the camp!" said the guide, kindly. "oh!" cried step hen sitting up, "to be sure; and i really think i must have been dozing while you were doing all the work, toby. give me a hand, won't you, please; i'm ashamed to say my legs seem so silly stiff at the knees i just can't straighten 'em out? wow! to think of me being such a baby as to feel that little circus this way. i'm real ashamed, that's what." "you ain't got no call to be, i promise you, boy," declared the other, a tremor in his voice; "you showed the pluck of a grown man. and if i could a took yer place, which in course i couldn't, never havin' been trained to wigwag, or handle a telegraph key, i'd sure let you sleep on; for ye desarve it, that's right." step hen made a few movements, regardless of the pain it gave him, so as to get his arms in working order; because he knew he would have to use them a great deal, if he were lucky enough to get an answer to his signals. the guide showed him where to stand, where he would be in the shadow, and the blazing, moving torch show; and he then pointed out the distant fire, down through the gap in the mountain chain. "they ain't touched it since we kim here," he remarked; "but that makes me think it might be done any minit now. so p'raps ye'd better show me the way to fling that there torch around, to let 'em know we're here, an' wantin' to talk. i kin do that part, i reckons, an' save you some work." step hen was agreeable, for he knew that he would have all he could do later on, to handle that beacon, should he find a chance to send the message he wanted the scoutmaster to get. for some time toby waved his torch around without there being any response; and it began to look as though he might have all his trouble for his pains, when step hen was heard to give a little eager cry. "there!" he exclaimed, "i believe i saw a light move, just then. yes, look, toby, there it is again; and as sure as you live, they're answering us! now, give me the torch. i only hope i haven't forgotten all i knew about sending messages, because all poor aleck's hopes for his future may hang on my being able to warn them the sheriff and old artemus rawson are heading that way. now watch close, toby! i'm going to start in." chapter xix. the warning. step hen was all of a tremble when he first began to handle that burning splinter of wood, provided by toby smathers, to serve as a fiery pen; and with which he hoped to write letters in the dark background he had chosen for his location. just as he had himself declared, regretfully now, step hen had never been a shining light in this code business. indeed, up to lately, he had rather considered the whole thing something of a great bore; and when ordered out on the hills to wave signal flags, he had only obeyed under protest. there had been plenty of things he much preferred to this sort of detail work. but after seeing how successfully a method of communication had been established between the scouts in camp, and aleck, when the latter was being held a prisoner up on that shelf of rock, step hen had had his eyes opened. he realized what a really valuable thing a little knowledge along these lines was apt to prove, at most any time. and he had then and there resolved to improve his scanty share of information whenever the chance came. right now he was secretly glad that since that occasion he had been asking some questions along the line of acquiring information. he had even had half an hour's practice with thad, early in the morning, sending and receiving messages. how fortunate that was, step hen reflected, just now, when he found himself placed in a position where a knowledge of wigwag work was going to prove of the utmost importance to the boy whom the scouts had taken in charge. at the same time it was with considerable nervousness that he started in to ask his first question. he meant to inquire if the one answering him were thad himself; but when he had made the last letter of the message step hen was afraid it might seem so bungled that all he would receive might be the well-known signal: "don't understand--repeat message!" but to his delight there came the three letters: "yes." encouraged by this, step hen became more ambitious. he spelled out his own name, and added a few more words: "this is step hen--something important!" then he almost held his breath as he waited to see what effect this would have. the answer began to come back, slowly and positively, thad allowing plenty of time for the other to make sure of every sign. and staring eagerly, unconsciously spelling aloud just as he received the message, step hen caught this: "all right--understand--let us have news." "it's going splendidly, toby!" cried step hen, almost ready to jump up and down, in his excitement and joy, despite his wearied condition. "thad's taking it, word for word. i reckon i c'n make him understand _something_, even if i am such a big bungler at this thing. but i tell you right now, after this i'm going in for wigwag work the hardest you ever saw. it's the greatest stunt a scout can follow up. why, it's worth everything else at such a time as this. now to tell him about the two men headed that way, and how they're after aleck rawson." with that step hen once more applied himself to the task before him. his heart was set on doing something that the scoutmaster would compliment him on when next they met. step hen had aroused himself to the fact that an occasion like this demanded that a scout should prove his worth. it might mean a merit medal for him, if his services were deemed of sufficient value. toby, seeing that the torch would not be likely to last out the labored conversation that was to follow, busied himself in getting another ready. as he was as good a hand at a fire as giraffe, this did not prove a heavy task. meanwhile step hen kept on sending his messages in short, jerky sentences. he lacked confidence in himself, and dared not launch boldly forth in a description of the strange thing that had happened since the four of them had made camp, after their big-horn hunt. when he had spelled a sentence he would almost invariably add the query, "understand?" meaning to repeat if the answer came in the negative. but thad was an expert at this sort of work, and could puzzle out the meaning of what step hen so blunderingly sent, almost as though he might be a mind reader. "two men came into our camp after dark!" went the opening message. "yes," thad replied, briefly, and evidently not meaning to say anything calculated to confuse the signal sender. "one a sheriff, name bob mcnulty." "yes." "other older man,--name artemus rawson.--get that?" there was a little interval at that. perhaps thad might be figuring it out; or he may have mentioned the name aloud, and be speaking with some one who was near by, possibly asking aleck if he recognized the name. "yes," came the flash, presently. step hen had begun to grow cold. he felt that if he once found himself cornered, and making mistakes, he was apt to get rattled in his excitement, and forget the little he really did know about sending and receiving. so when thad replied that he had grasped even that name, the sender found himself imbued with another relay of confidence. when he started in once more, he sent a little faster, though the scoutmaster at the first opportunity warned him to go slow and sure. "say looking for aleck--that he has robbed uncle--headed down valley when left here--understand that?" "yes, but not so fast. go on," came the reply. step hen understood that thad gave him this warning, not because he was himself unable to receive at that rate, for he had seen the patrol leader and allan go smoothly along at twice the pace. he was thinking of step hen, for he knew what was apt to happen if once the other overstepped the bounds, and muddled himself up; as like as not he would get his signals mixed, and after that be utterly unable to send coherently. "be with you by morning--we think they suspect aleck there--you know what to do." "yes. good for you. anymore?" step hen sighed with relief. the great burden of responsibility had fallen from his shoulders on to those broad ones of the scoutmaster. yes, thad would surely know what to do--he always did when the emergency arose. and that was what made his chums feel such implicit confidence in their leader. and step hen thought that while he was about it, and the message business working so very smoothly, he might as well let thad know of their success; so he managed to say: "we got two sheep!" "good again." "smithy shot one--i got other--had warm time i tell you. anything new at the camp?" "sure. they came and paid us a visit," thad replied, slowly, so that not a word did step hen lose as he spelled the message out. "do you mean kracker?" he demanded. "yes. he tried to ride over us rough-shod; but we took him down a peg. sent the three men away--kept their guns--looking out for them all the time--if you happen to meet hold them off--toby will know." that was an extra long one to take, and several times step hen had to wave his torch so as to interrupt the sender, and have him go back to the last period to repeat what he had to communicate. for of course step hen, like all new beginners in wigwag work, telegraphy, and kindred things, was a better hand at sending than receiving; because in the one case he knew in his own mind what was coming next, and was not apt to get confused; while in taking a message, if he lost one small fraction of the same, while his mind was grappling with that, he failed to catch the next letter, and thus was apt to become hopelessly entangled. but thanks to the intelligent manner in which thad managed his end of the air wire, and the positive way in which he moved his fire pencil, the message was finally all grasped, though step hen was rapidly becoming exhausted by his efforts, and the mental strain that bore on him so heavily. "better quit thar!" advised the guide, who kept a close watch on things, and was able to understand just what the tired boy was enduring. "pretty soon, toby," replied step hen, slowly. "i've done better than i ever thought i would, and thad knows about that artemus rawson. he'll see to it that aleck isn't around when they come to camp. oh! ain't i glad though i brushed up my code work with him early in the morning, though. that business with aleck in the night made me ashamed to be so dull. i want to ask him one more question, for there he's waving to know if i'm done." "get through quick, then; we orter be back in camp," said the guide, not unkindly, but because he saw the condition of step hen. "what is it?" thad was signaling, waiting each time after asking the question, to receive an answer. "will you have aleck hide himself?" asked the other. "sure thing." "we'll head back to camp in morning--have to get smithy's horns first," went on step hen. "has he taken to growing a pair?" thad asked, quizzically. "his sheep i mean--lies back a bit--look for us about noon." "that all?" "yes. good-bye!" the last wavering movements of thad's torch far away in the distance told that he was echoing this concluding word. then it vanished. the talk-fest was over; and step hen felt that at least he had done himself proud for one who had paid so little attention to this really important adjunct to the education of a boy scout. "and mark me, toby," he mumbled as the guide kindly threw an arm about his tottering figure, though step hen hardly comprehended the fact, "i'm agoin' to take up wigwag work after this, sure i am. never thought it could be so interestin'. it's sure great. here's our camp, ain't it? you tell the boys what i did, won't you toby; i'm feelin' kinder tired like? guess i'll sit down a spell." davy jones and smithy were wild to know how it had all turned out; and while the murmur of the guide's voice sounded, as he related the story of the message sending, poor played-out step hen sank to the ground, dead for sleep. in less than two minutes he was lost to the world, the last thing he heard being the low voice of toby smathers, recounting the recent splendid feat of the scout whose message had undoubtedly saved aleck rawson from impending trouble. chapter xx. sheriff bob's bomb explodes. "there they come!" it was the observant "old eagle eye," as some of the boys called giraffe, who gave utterance to these words. early morning was at hand. all through the balance of the night those left in the camp in the valley had been momentarily expecting to have the sheriff and his older companion drop in on them; but possibly artemus may have found himself unable to travel as fast as his ambition would force him, and the pair had been compelled to rest up somewhere on the road. every one in the camp was of course on the line of duty at daybreak. while bumpus and bob white started to get breakfast, giraffe and allan were using their eyes as best they could, seeing that the mists still hung over the valley, obscuring things at a little distance. thad was invisible, also aleck. truth to tell they had betaken themselves off within an hour after that astounding message was received from the far-distant point where step hen waved his fiery torch. of course, one of the first things thad had done was to question the other concerning this man who called himself artemus rawson. aleck admitted that he was in truth his own uncle; but added that the lawyer from denver had fallen under the same spell as many others, and was allowing himself to dream of being the one to re-discover the long-lost mine. aleck had said that it seemed as though every one who heard about it became imbued with a mad desire to possess the treasure. there was kracker who had made several long searching trips up here with that one object in view; and was even then doing everything in his power to get possession of the secret. crafty uncle artemus had gone about it in a different way. he had hung around the dwelling-place of the widow, and in his sly, lawyer-like method, tried to learn what was going on. he suspected that the secret of the location of the mine had been discovered in some way, from the change in the atmosphere about the rawson home, and the air of excitement that could not easily be subdued; but no matter how he tried, he could not learn just what it all meant. then came the sudden vanishing of aleck. this must have given the lawyer points and he started after the boy. his accusation concerning his nephew having robbed him was of course all a part of a fine little scheme he had hatched up. while the big prospector believed in actual force to squeeze the secret from the unwilling lips of the lad; shrewd uncle artemus was inclined to try and make a show of having the law on his side. but in both cases, actually robbery was intended. and thad believed every word of the explanation made by aleck. he could not have done otherwise, looking in those frank and fearless eyes, and reading the clean soul of the rawson boy. so the scoutmaster had decided that he and aleck would disappear from the valley camp for a short time, leaving no trail by which they could be followed. he did not tell a single one of his chums just what the plan was, because he was desirous of keeping the secret. then, in case the sheriff questioned them concerning the movements of the missing two, they could truthfully declare they did not know a thing about them. but thad made preparations looking to the carrying-out of a bold project which he and the rawson boy had talked over between themselves. this was nothing more nor less than a hunt for the long-hidden silver mine! thad thought that the sooner aleck made sure his little chart, found concealed in the back of that small pocket mirror which his dying father had placed in his hands, was correct, the better. and that accounted for several queer things he did on leaving camp, one of which, the taking of the only lantern they had brought with them, astonished bumpus very much indeed, not to mention giraffe and bob white. the fox had not been invited to join in the expedition; but later on it was found that he had disappeared. still, no one was worried, for it seemed to be taken for granted that he must have followed thad and aleck. they remembered that the latter had claimed a long-standing friendship with the fox. and it was also known that the crow boy had become an ardent admirer of the scoutmaster, whom he believed to be a chief worth serving. when old eagle eye, then, announced that the two men were coming, the others craned their necks to look. allan told them not to appear too curious; and so those who were busy at the fire went on with their culinary labors, cooking a bountiful breakfast, as it seemed that they might have company. sheriff bob and the lawyer soon strode into camp--at least the officer did the striding part, for old artemus seemed pretty nearly fagged out. a burning desire to acquire a glorious fortune so easily was all that kept him up, otherwise he would never have been able to have stood the long tramp as he did. the first thing the sheriff did after replying to the salutation of allan, was to scan each one of the four boys in turn, and then turning to his companion, say tersely: "none of these the one you want, i reckon, sir?" the old denver lawyer looked dreadfully disappointed. his ferrit-like eyes had flitted from one to another of the scouts, and each time he changed base his long cunning face grew more like a blank. "no, my nephew isn't in sight, as i can see, sheriff," he replied, with a frown, and a look toward allan, as though to say that it was his opinion the boy might produce the one they sought, if proper force were applied. "having a hunt up here in the mountains, are you, boys?" asked the sheriff, as he followed the example of the lawyer, and dropped down near the fire, crossing his legs tailor-fashion, as though he meant to make himself quite at home. "yes, we want to get a big-horn or so to take back with us," replied allan. "just the four of you?" continued the other, arching his heavy brows as if with surprise. "oh! no, there are a lot of other fellows," replied the scout who took thad's place as leader when the other happened to be absent. "oh! that's it, eh? rest off on a little side hunt right now, i reckon. p'raps you've got a guide along with you, too?" the officer continued, bending his neck, so that he could see inside the nearest tent, the flap of which happened to be on the side toward him, and thrown back to allow of ventilation. "oh! yes, we've got a guide now, though for a long time we had to go it alone, and managed to get on pretty well," allan continued, wondering why it was he could catch a peculiar quizzical gleam in the snapping eyes of the other, once in a while, when the sheriff looked straight at him. "who is he; perhaps i might happen to know him?" asked the other, accepting a tin cup filled with coffee, from bumpus. "i'm sure you do, sir," allan hastened to remark; and then, remembering that he was not supposed to know of the visit the sheriff and his employer had paid to the camp of the big-horn hunters on the previous night, he hastened to add: "everybody knows honest toby smathers, the forest ranger, i should think." "well, i should say, yes, i did," replied the other, commencing to calmly devour the piece of venison that had been placed on his platter, as though his appetite was sharp indeed this bracing morning. "and so you boys have come away out here just to see what we've got in these rockies, eh?" "just what we have, sir," replied giraffe, thinking that he would like to have the sheriff notice him a little. "and i declare, you seem to be fixed pretty comfortable like," the other went on. "just look at the tents they brought with them, mr. rawson. i've always said that on the whole they were better than the old-fashioned tents. you can see how the heat of the fire on a cold night is sent back into the tent; and there's aplenty of head-room here. yes, both of 'em as cozy as you please." he had seemed so very much interested in the subject that he even laid down his tin cup and platter, and gaining his feet, passed over, to peer into each tent, as if bent on ascertaining what the interior looked like. allan, of course, knew just what this meant. the sheriff was looking for aleck, as if he half-expected to find the hunted boy concealed under a pile of blankets. and yet it puzzled allan to note that, in spite of the keen disappointment which would naturally follow a failure to locate the boy, sheriff bob was even chuckling as he once more sat him down in the circle, and resumed operations on his breakfast. something seemed to be amusing him, allan wished he could tell what. he felt it must have some connection with the search for aleck rawson; though for the life of him he could not decide what was in the sheriff's mind. the talk soon became general, though artemus took no part in it. he sent a beseeching glance every now and then in the direction of the officer, as if begging him to do something; but whatever it might be, evidently sheriff bob was in no hurry, and meant to finish that good breakfast first, anyway. presently, as he emptied his platter the second time, and swallowed his third cup of scalding java the officer remarked: "i know something about the boy scouts myself, it happens. got a youngster down below that belongs to a troop. great thing. teaches lads lots of the right kind of outdoor business. makes 'em healthy, and able to depend on themselves a heap. my kid, he's dead stuck on this signal business with flags and such. glad to see it, too. takes me back to old times, as sure as you live." he stopped there, and seemed to reflect. it was as though memories might be arising that were pleasant to look back upon. meanwhile allan was conscious of something like a little thrill passing through him. he seemed to feel that this was no accidental mention on the part of the man with the twinkle in his eye; but in fact, it might have something deep back of it. "yes," sheriff bob went on, presently, turning straight toward allan now. "i used to belong in the army years ago--spent six years of my life in the signal corps, and was accounted a pretty good operator in wigwag, telegraph, telephone building, and heliograph work while i served. and honest now, i must say i never enjoyed a finer half hour than i spent last night, sitting on a rock up yonder, and watching that lively little confab you held with your chum, who, i think was the boy calling himself step hen. he did the job up pretty well, considering; and as for your thad, he's chain lightning on the send. yes, siree bob, that was a picnic to an old signal corps man like me, as you can easily understand, my boy!" the four scouts sat there as if frozen stiff. consternation was written all over their faces; and no wonder the humorous sheriff, as he saw what a bomb he had exploded, chuckled, and then laughed aloud. chapter xxi. hearing aleck's side of the story. that good and hearty laugh on the part of the sheriff did more to reassure the scouts than anything else could have done. giraffe, who had been holding his very breath in consternation, allowed the air to flow in and out of his lungs again; bumpus regained his color, while his staring eyes concluded apparently not to pop out of his head this time; and as for allan and bob white, they lost some of the look of alarm that had spread over their faces. "yes, it was as good as a circus to just sit thar, and enjoy reading that little talk," the sheriff went on to say. "i could 'most imagine myself back again in the army, out in the philippines, teachin' some of the awkward squad their p's and q's. and the news was some interestin', too. so aleck, he was to make himself scarce, was he? seems like he did that same, too," with another chuckle, and a shrug of his shoulders toward the tents which he had so lately examined without profit. allan hardly knew what to say; but boldly taking up the cudgels he presently remarked: "well, mr. sheriff, what else could we do? aleck was a scout, one of our organization; and if you've got a son who belongs to it, you must know that a scout is always supposed to be ready to hold out a helping hand to a fellow member. aleck was in trouble. he had fallen into the hands of a party of prospectors, headed by colonel kracker, who were bent on forcing him to give up the secret they thought he carried, concerning the long-lost silver mine his father was said to have discovered years ago." "h'm! say you so, boy?" the other observed, while the lawyer pricked up his ears, as if suddenly interested. "kracker around here, is he? well, that's some interesting news, you're telling me. you say the boy had fallen into their hands, and that you rescued him?" "if you'd like to hear about it, i'll be only too glad to tell you," allan went on to say, eagerly; for somehow he had already taken quite a fancy toward this sheriff with the humorous twinkle in his eye, and thought it only right to make a friend of him, if it could be done. "all nonsense, mr. sheriff," spluttered old artemus, who feared lest his case might be losing its grip, and that the officer would refuse to aid him even were the boy found. "he's trying to swing your sympathies around against my interests. remember that you carry a warrant, and are sworn to serve it." "i always does my duty, mr. rawson, don't you fear," replied the sheriff, with a frown; "but just now it's a part of my business to hear all i can concerning the way your nephew came to join in with these boy scouts. now, just go on telling me what you started to say, my boy." at that allan picked up fresh courage. the sheriff was inclined to favor them, he realized, even at the expense of straining his "duty." "why, one of our number, giraffe here," he said, "happened to be practicing the wigwag code outside the camp, in the darkness, using a brand he'd picked from the fire; when to his astonishment he saw answering signals from what seemed to be the sky. well, when we made out the one word 'help!' you see our interest was at once raised to fever pitch." "i should say it would be," remarked sheriff bob, showing the deepest attention, as though the prospect for developments in the story began to excite him. "our scoutmaster took matters in hand," allan went on. "you just said he was clever at sending and receiving messages. well, he's a cracker-jack, that's what he is. and it so happened that aleck, he not only belonged to the scouts, and had learned everything about signaling; but he served as a telegraph operator for a short time on a side road, when the regular man was taken sick; so he could even beat our thad at talking with his hands; and that's going some, i tell you." "but what was aleck doing up there; and where was he at the time?" asked the deeply interested sheriff. "kracker and his two men had caught aleck; and unable to make him tell what they wanted, what do you think the cowards did? lowered the boy down to a shelf on the face of the cliff, and left him there, saying he would starve unless he weakened, and gave up his secret; which aleck vows belongs to his mother alone, and nothing on earth would make him betray." "and they left him there, did they?" growled sheriff bob, frowning in a way to indicate his opinion of the said kracker. "just what they did. he saw us come into the valley, but thought we might only be some more of the same kind of wolves, wanting to torture a poor boy. but when he saw giraffe, here, making letters with his fire-stick, something told aleck we must be boy scouts. so, finding some wood on the ledge, he managed to make a little fire in a crack that ran into the rock; and with a brand from this he started to call, repeating that one word over and over again--'help'!" "this here is some interesting to me, son," remarked the big sheriff, as allan paused to get his breath, for he was talking so fast and so eagerly that he had almost exhausted himself. "and so, after you learned where he was, and how he came to be thar, i reckon now you boys started to climb up and rescue the other--how?" "that's what we did, sir," broke in giraffe, eagerly. "four of us, counting the guide, managed to climb up the mountain, and with a rope we carried, hooked aleck up off that ledge the prettiest you ever saw, that's what we did," with a defiant look toward old artemus, who was sniffing through all this talk, just as though he refused to believe a word of it. "and that's the way we came to have him in our camp, sir," allan went on to say. "we heard his story, and believed it, too. he's got a mother, and a lot of little sisters, who look to him to carry out the work his father started. but every one who ever hears a word about that hidden mine jerry rawson once found, seems to be just crazy to take it away from his widow. she has hardly a single friend to trust. even her relatives plot to beat her out of this valuable mining property, and try all sorts of things, in hopes of getting hold of the secret. and now you know just where we stand, mr. sheriff. as scouts we must stay friends of aleck. he _was_ here, just as you know; but he's gone away, and none of us know where to. thad took him off during the night, and all he said was we might expect to see him again when he showed up. so you can't pump any information out of us, you see." "and even if we knew anything, we wouldn't tell," asserted giraffe, belligerently, feeling that the honor of a scout was in question right then. the sheriff looked from one to another of those four boyish faces. "by george! now, i reckon it wouldn't be any use in me tryin' to scare you by threatening to jail you for aiding in the escape of a desperate criminal, would it?" he remarked, pretending to look very serious, but with that twinkle again in evidence, as allan saw. "you just couldn't;" declared giraffe, while bumpus began to move a little uneasily in his seat; "in the first place, we don't know anything more'n we've told you; secondly, we haven't assisted anybody to escape, because we're right here, johnny-on-the-spot, and it's our scoutmaster who's gone; and then, last of all, there ain't any desperate criminal at all; only a poor, persecuted boy, with the grit that you just want your own chap to show, mr. sheriff,--ready to fight everybody, for the sake of his mother and sisters." sheriff bob wagged his head slowly, as though mentally digesting what the other had just said. "h'm! that remains to be seen, boy," he remarked; although giraffe believed he did not feel one-half as ferocious as he chose to look just then. "duty is duty, no matter how unpleasant it may seem, sometimes." "i'm glad to hear you take that sensible view of the matter, mr. sheriff," said the old denver lawyer, in his oily tones. "you mustn't believe one-tenth of what boys say. they would as soon prevaricate as eat their breakfast; that is, some of the breed would, though doubtless your son is an exception to the rule. these scouts, as they choose to call themselves, have fixed up a story to suit themselves, and they hope to enlist your sympathy; but i know that a stern sense of duty will compel you to close your ears to anything they may say. i demand that you exercise every effort possible, looking to the immediate arrest of my rascally nephew, alexander rawson, whom i accuse of stealing valuable papers from my pocketbook while i was a guest under his mother's roof, and then disappearing." "oh! very well, sir, don't excite yourself about my movements," remarked sheriff bob, assuming a pompous air, though allan thought he winked slily in his direction while speaking. "you will find no cause to complain to my superiors concerning any shortcomings on my part. and up to now, you must admit i have been unflagging in my endeavor to locate the fugitive from justice. make your mind easy, mr. rawson, i see my duty clear in the premises, and can be depended on to do it." watching his chance a little later allan followed the sheriff, when the latter went to get a drink of water near by. artemus looked as though he wanted to keep them from having any communications out of his range of hearing; but he sank back in his seat again, plainly afraid of invoking the anger of the big sheriff, who, he already felt, did not feel any too warmly toward him and his cause. and as they sat down by the little stream to dip up some of the clear water with the tin cup sheriff bob had made sure to fetch along, allan made it a point to tell the other all that aleck had said about the motives of his father's lawyer brother, and how for a long time he had bothered the widow, trying to find out if she knew anything about the hidden mine; which until lately of course she had not. allan knew how to talk. moreover, he had an interested listener in the officer, and that counted for a great deal. besides, he felt deeply for the persecuted boy, and his heart was filled with a desire to assist him secure the legacy left by his father, than whom no living soul had ever gazed upon the hidden mine. sheriff bob listened to all that the boy said. several times he scratched his head reflectively, and made a grimace, as though conflicting forces had begun to engage him in an inward war. and when finally allan declared that he now knew all, the officer drew a long breath, and remarked, quietly: "i seem to smell a pretty good-sized rat about this game mr. artemus is putting up; but as i said, the warrant he swore out is in my hands for serving, and i just reckon i'll have to do my sworn duty and arrest this same aleck----that is, if so be he shows up while we're around here." allan looked him squarely in the eye; and he was sure one of the lids above the blue orbs of the official dropped a little in a suggestive way. he too drew a long breath, and with a smile on his boyish face, said as he arose: "thank you, mr. sheriff, thank you very much!" chapter xxii. the guardian of the silver lode. as has been mentioned before, thad had a plan in view when he left the camp in company with aleck, somewhere about midnight. though for certain reasons which he considered good, he had not seen fit to take a single one of his comrades into his confidence, the scoutmaster believed that the only way for aleck to win his own game was to find the long-lost mine, and take possession of the same in the name of his father, who had been the original discoverer of the lode. scores of hungry prospectors, besides kracker, had done everything in their power to locate the mine; though none had descended to his last unworthy methods of trying to torture jerry rawson's son, in the hope of profiting thereby. as the claim of the original discoverer rested only on a scant foundation, of course the man lucky enough to find the silver lode again would have a right to hold possession, in the eye of the law. he might choose to pay the widow something, but even that was a matter resting solely upon his conscience. thad had a reason for carrying the only lantern belonging to the scouts; and he hoped that if they were so lucky as to find that aleck's rude little chart told the truth, they might utilize that means of illumination when entering the mine. of course both of them carried their guns, for there was no telling when they could return to camp. an arrangement had been with allan, so that day and night there would be a sign shown, calculated to tell the absent ones whether the coast were clear, or the lawyer and sheriff still hovered near by, waiting to entrap the rawson boy, should he show up. they had moved along for some time, when aleck broke the silence by saying, with considerable feeling in his voice: "it makes me glad to know you believed what i told you, thad, about that business of my uncle. if you could only meet up with him once, i'm sure you'd know the tricky kind of man he is, just from his looks, and the smooth way he talks. but no matter what they all do and say, i'm just bound to carry my plans out. my mother approves of what i am doing; and she is thinking of me, and praying all the time i'm up here, trying to take dad's place." "don't mention it," said thad, quickly. "of course we all believe every word you told us, no matter whether we've met this rascally uncle of yours or not. our chum step hen did, and i reckon he wasn't much impressed with him, from the way he talked. and as you belong to the scouts, our first duty is to stand by you through thick and thin." "only as long as you believe in my word, thad," added the other. "that's true," returned the other, quickly; "even a scout has no business sticking up for a comrade when he knows the other is in the wrong; but we believe in you, aleck. and if only you could find that mine, i feel sure all of this funny business would stop. once you had put in a claim, with the proper witnesses, and hurried to file it before the court, nobody could steal it away. and that's going to be just where the boy scouts can help you." "well, we'll know more than we do now, before a great many hours," asserted the miner's son; "unless this little map is all wrong, and poor dad only believed he had found a rich lode. but remember, he brought home specimens that were nearly pure silver; and every one who saw them said they beat the world for richness. i can remember my dad saying that there were tons and tons without end of that same sort, in _his_ mine. and then he was suddenly taken down sick, and died with the secret untold. all these long years, when we've been poor and wanting many things, there that secret lay in my hand, oh! hundreds of times, and i never dreamed of it still accident showed me the paper, back of the glass in the little pocket mirror that dad had carried with him a long time." they relapsed into silence again for a long time, each busy with his thoughts. aleck knew what few simple directions his rude chart carried; he had gazed at it so many times that it was photographed on his mind, and there had been no need for him to rip the seam of his coat, and take the slip of faded paper out. kracker had not dreamed how near the coveted clue had been to his hands, at the time he actually held the boy, and closely examined all his pockets. "it's lucky," remarked thad, after fully an hour more had passed, with both boys pushing forward steadily all the time, over rugged ways that severely tried their abilities--"it's lucky, i say, that we are heading exactly away from the direction where that sheriff, and your uncle, must be coming from." "yes, but i knew we'd do that before we ever started out," replied aleck. "you've been sizing up the region all day in camp, and laying your plans, if the chance ever came to try them out; isn't that so, aleck?" "you never said truer words in your life, thad," answered the other. "i found a pretty high rock on which i could perch; and that gave me a chance to look over in this region with those fine glasses of yours. and i tell you now, it gave me a great thrill when i recognized something dad had marked on that little chart. it seemed just as if i could hear his voice calling me from the grave, and telling me i was doing the right thing--to go ahead, no matter who tried to stop me." "what sort of a land-mark was it you saw?" asked the other scout. "why, you see, he made a rough sketch of a rock that looks a whole lot like a human head," aleck went on to say, earnestly. "why, hello! i remember noticing that very same rock, the time i went up to take a look, and see if i could get a glimpse of our hunter squad. while about it, i turned the glasses around, to see if there were any sheep on the sides of the mountains to the south. and it was right then i saw that outline of a face, cut in the rock, just like somebody had used a giant chisel and made it--nose, mouth, chin, forehead, all complete. it startled me a little at first, aleck." "i should guess it would, thad; but think what it meant to _me_, when i had seen it on dad's little chart; and knew that the entrance to his hidden mine lay almost in the shadow of that face! i think he looked on it as the rock guardian to his silver lode." "is that a fact?" ejaculated thad, partaking in a measure of the excitement that shook the frame of his companion; "well, that's more than you've seen fit to tell me before, aleck; and it's some interesting, i own up." "i meant to tell you everything, thad, believe me," declared the other, quickly, and with some emotion. "after the fine way you and your chums rescued me from that shelf up on the face of the cliff, and said you'd stand by me, no matter what happened, why, i made up my mind that i would keep nothing back from you. by to-morrow i expected to take the map out from the lining of my coat, where it was sewed in by my mother's own dear hands, so that nobody would ever think things had been disturbed at all. and now, i'm surely hoping that we'll both set eyes on dad's mine before another dawn breaks." "for your sake, aleck, i hope that will come true. you deserve all the luck in the world, and that's what every one of our fellows say. but only for this moonlight i'm afraid we'd have had a hard job of it, coming all this distance; because the way is mighty rough, and both of us have stumbled lots of times as it is. we might have used the lantern, of course, but that would have put it out of business later, when we wanted it bad; and besides, it's flickering might have told our enemies where we were." aleck felt a thrill of pleasure at the way the other used that word "our;" why, it was just as though the silver fox patrol had adopted him into the troop; and meant to make his cause their own. for a boy who had seldom had a friend to give him even words of encouragement, this was a glorious happening indeed. he felt that it had been the luckiest hour of his whole life when, in the midst of his bitter dejection, left alone on that high and isolated rocky ledge, he had discovered the strange movements of that fiery pencil, that seemed to be making all sorts of extravagant figures and circles in the air, which he knew stood for the means of communication between scouts. "let us work our way around this spur," he said, a while later, after they had continued to advance further into the depths of the mountains. "i can guess what you are thinking," thad went on to remark; "you believe that we must even now be in the neighborhood of that rock face." "well, i've tried to judge the distance, and how we got along; and it seems to me we ought to be nearly there. what do you think, thad?" asked the other; and from his manner it was evident that he laid considerable importance on the opinion of his companion. "just what you do, which is, that we must be getting close to where we saw that great head outlined just as if some scupltor had chiseled it from the solid rock. but even if we fail to find it, aleck, that may be because of the formation of the mountain. besides, this moonlight is awfully deceptive, you know." "wait, and we'll soon learn," was the confident answer. "i sat there, and looked for nearly an hour. i guess i got every rock fixed on my mind." "well, i've had a few of the same impressed on my knees and shins," chuckled the scoutmaster, drily. "but we've no need to complain, because, considering all the things we've had to fight against, i reckon we've escaped pretty slick. see anything yet, aleck?" "no, i own that i don't; but then, that may come from lots of causes," the other boy replied, trying not to let his disappointment show in his manner or speech; for he knew that thad did not believe in a display of weakness in scouts. "perhaps, when we've pushed on a little further, we may be able to glimpse the face again." "wait right here," said thad, suddenly. "oh! did you hear anything? wouldn't it be too unbearably hard if we learned that some one, perhaps that cruel prospector, colonel kracker, had been ahead of us, and located the hidden mine? he could hurry to enter his claim, and my poor mother would not stand a ghost of a show. was it a voice you heard, thad?" "i didn't hear anything to bother me," came the reply, accompanied with a low chuckle. "i was only thinking how often we strain ourselves to see something away off, when all we have to do is to turn our eyes up and look." aleck instantly "caught on" to what his companion meant. he bent his head back, and gave utterance to a low cry of satisfaction. "well, if that doesn't beat anything?" he ejaculated, apparently highly pleased; "it's the head, as sure as i live, and towering right above us, almost. no wonder i couldn't see it, looking away off, and thinking it lay further on. we've found the land-mark dad set down in his little map, thad. and now to discover the crack in the wall, hidden by the hanging vines, where he followed a fox in, just out of curiosity, and discovered the richest silver lode he ever knew about. oh! i'm just shaking all over with excitement. and i sure hope my mother's thinking about me right now, thinking, and praying for me to succeed!" chapter xxiii. a wolf brood in the way. it was plain to the young scoutmaster that aleck had studied his map carefully. for after he had taken his bearings anew, from the rocky head that towered almost above them, the other was able to make a direct course to the foot of an adjoining cliff, where the moonlight fell upon the chalky wall. thad saw first of all that there were strange markings across the face of this cliff, or rather running up and down. they consisted of several thicknesses, and as the boys drew closer, he discovered that what he suspected before was the truth; and that these were caused by vines that ascended for various distances, clinging tenaciously to the rock wall. toward their base they seemed of unusual thickness; and it was easily believable that one of these might conceal a fissure in the rock, just as aleck had mentioned, when speaking of the way his father discovered the entrance to aladdin's cave of treasure. the boy seemed to be counting these dark veins traversing the face of the cliff, and when they came to the fourth one he stopped still. "there it is, thad, the vines he marked, fourth from the right!" he said, in a low and trembling voice, as though the intensity of his feelings almost overcame him. "yes, i can see it," replied the other, steadily, feeling that he must bolster up aleck's courage in this trying time. "and we want to know right away whether it really does hide a gap in the rock. come on, aleck!" he led the way forward, with the other half holding back. feverish with impatience though aleck might be, to know whether all his hopes were doomed to be shattered then and there, or allowed to blossom forth into glorious buds of promise, the poor boy suddenly felt a weakness come upon him. only for his having such a staunch-hearted chum at his elbow, ready to take the lead, there is no telling how long aleck rawson might have hesitated there, before that mass of clinging vines, afraid to take his courage in both hands, and push on to the goal. but it was different with thad. he strode up to the vines, and with one sweep drew them aside. the act disclosed a fissure that was several feet in width at its base, and running some distance up the wall; although growing gradually smaller, until finally it merged into the gloom that held sway aloft, back of the screen of vines. aleck gave a low cry of rapture. "it's here, just as he said it would be, in this map i carry!" he exclaimed, as he clutched the arm of the scoutmaster. "i hope i'm not dreaming all this, thad; tell me i'm not, please, that's a good fellow." "well," replied the other, laughing gently so as to convince aleck that he was perfectly cool and collected, and ought to know what he talked about; "so far as it goes, your map is absolutely correct, chum aleck; and i don't see any reason to doubt the rest of the story. in my opinion we're going to discover something fine before a great many minutes go past." "what shall we do, thad; you see, i'm so upset with it all, that somehow i look to you to arrange things. perhaps if i was alone, and just _had_ to depend on myself, i'd do better; but it's so kind of you to help me out, and you're so capable of doing it all. please fix it up as you think best." "all right, then," returned thad, readily. "first of all, i'll light our little glim here; for if we're going to poke along into that black hole, i reckon we'll be wanting some sort of light to see by. don't think i'd like to take a tumble down some precipice, myself; not to speak of running across a wild beast." "what makes you say that last, thad?" demanded the other, quickly; "do you get a scent of it, too?" "i had an idea i did, and somehow it made me think of a menagerie. hold up just a minute, and we'll be able to see something." as he spoke thad struck a match, which he applied to the wick of the lantern. it was a good type of its kind, and as soon as the wick had been properly adjusted no one could reasonably complain about the quality of the illumination produced. this done, the patrol leader hastened to lower the lantern so that he could examine the ground close to the bottom of the fissure in the rock. "plenty of tracks, all right," was his first comment. "can you make them out, and is it a bear?" asked aleck, almost unconsciously swinging his gun a little further to the front, while his fingers sought the lock. "well, no; the marks differ very much from the tracks of a bear, either a black or a cinnamon. they look more like made by a dog's paws," thad replied. "but a dog wouldn't be up here; you must mean it's a wolf, that's what, thad," aleck hastened to observe. "if that was a guess, you hit the nail square on the head, aleck," chuckled the scoutmaster. "a wolf has been using this hole in the rock for a den; and from all i can make out, the tracks seem pretty fresh, too." "then you think the old chap is in there now, do you?" asked the other. "i wouldn't like to say;" replied thad; "but there's just one thing we've got to do, and that is, believe it to be so. a wolf caught in a trap is some dangerous, they tell me; and in case this happens to be a mother wolf, with a litter of whelps, she'd fight like everything, believe me." "but we're going in, thad; ain't we; you won't let that stand us off, after coming so far, will you? oh! if there were a dozen wolves, and every one of them ready to fight from the word go, i'd just _have_ to learn the truth before i left here. for her sake i'd take any risk to know." "well, i should say we were going in; and right away at that," returned thad, taking a step forward. "i only thought i ought to put you on your guard, so that in case we came on the thing, you'd know what to expect. have you got your gun all ready to shoot, aleck?" "believe me, yes; and while i don't want to brag, still i've always called myself a pretty good shot, even at a jumping wolf," replied the other; since he now knew that thad did not mean to be deterred by any sort of ordinary difficulty, aleck began to seem like himself, being able to keep his feelings in restraint. that was the influence of a cool, determined comrade, like the scoutmaster. such a firm, collected spirit always exerts considerable influence over those with whom it comes in personal contact. thad held the lantern. he preferred doing so, even though it must necessarily interfere more or less with his taking any sort of aim, should the occasion suddenly arise whereby it become necessary for him to fire. but then, it was very important, thad thought, that they keep the lantern intact; and of course he had never been alongside aleck in action, so he could not tell just what sort of coolness the other would display when a time of excitement arrived. besides, when one is perfectly at home with a gun, it is possible to shoot without ever raising the weapon to the shoulder. instinct takes the place of aim on such an occasion; some people call it "shooting from the hip," and that would be as good a designation for the method of pulling a hasty trigger, as any other. of course, they kept close together. this was rendered necessary by the narrowness of the fissure, even had not their personal wishes in the matter forced the two lads to touch elbows. they strained their eyes as they slowly advanced, looking ahead most of the time, yet not neglecting to also observe the walls as they passed. and already thad was beginning to notice a peculiarly marked streak here and there, that had a rather dingy, black look, and which he strongly suspected might, on investigation, prove to be the outcropping of the marvelous ore of silver, which, further on had been revealed to the startled eyes of the prospector, years ago, doubtless causing him to blink, and pinch himself, under the belief that he must be only indulging in a maddening dream, such as all of his class are visited with from time to time. but before they could pay the slightest attention to these things it became absolutely necessary that they find out the truth about that wolf business. and as they pushed steadily inward they were constantly on the alert for the first sign that would give warning of danger. "i heard something like a growl, then!" whispered aleck, suddenly. "sure thing," answered the other, steadily; "and we ought to get a sight of the animal's eyes, quick enough now. look for twin fires, that burn like phosphorus in the dark. and hold your gun on them as soon as you sight them, but don't shoot till i give the word, unless the beast charges us." ten seconds later, another and different sound came to their strained hearing. "cubs whining, as i live!" ejaculated thad, half under his breath. "then it's a she wolf?" said the other. "i reckon it is," the scoutmaster answered. "but what are you waiting for, thad?" aleck demanded; "i suppose that makes it a tougher proposition; but now i've come this far, i've just got to go through to the end." "we will, all right, aleck, never fear. i was just holding back to see if my eyes would get a little more accustomed to the dark over there; but now we can go on again. ready all the while, are you?" "yes, indeed i am, thad. now i think i can see what you said i would." "meaning her yellow eyes glistening with fierce madness; because there's nothing more ready to fight a hundred enemies than a mother wolf with whelps. steady, forward we go, slow but sure!" "all right, thad; i'm as cool as anything now; all my excitement seems to have gone when there's real danger afoot," remarked aleck, in an even voice that backed up his words. "i knew that would be so, aleck," replied the other, in a low tone. "but i can begin to see the figure of the wolf now; can you?" "yes, and she's standing over something that seems to move," the other replied. "that must be the cubs; yes, listen to them growl, would you? young as they are they understand that an enemy is near. ten to one the hair on each little back is standing up like bristles, right now. but seems to me we've gone about as close as we ought to, aleck?" thad came to a halt. the light of the lantern showed them a dim, half crouching figure ahead. it was the mother wolf. undoubtedly she might have found means of escape by retiring further into the place; but nothing would induce her to abandon her whelps. and thad found himself obliged to admire this valor in the animal even though necessity compelled him to rid the country of pests by wiping out the entire brood of wolves, whelps as well as mother. chapter xxiv. aleck comes into his own at last. "do you think we're close enough, thad?" whispered aleck, as they bent forward, and strained their eyes to make out the dim gaunt figure that blocked all further progress, and which they knew full well must be that mother wolf. "yes," answered the other, in the same cautious tone; "if we went any further on, i'm afraid the beast would fly at us; and in that case you know, we'd have a harder time taking aim." thad had managed to set the lantern down on a level place, where, he hoped it would stand little danger of being knocked over, in case there was anything in the nature of a fight between themselves and the wolf. this allowed him the free use of both his arms, which of course was the main idea he had in view, when getting rid of the lantern. of course thad had never had any experience in thus entering the den of a wolf with young ones. all he knew about it he had heard from the lips of others, or possibly read. somehow, just then it flashed through his mind how history told of israel putnam, afterwards a celebrated general in the continental army, crawling into a wolf's den as a youth, and fetching the animal out, after a severe fight; but so far as thad could remember, that was not a mother wolf; and israel had an easy time compared to what it might have been under different conditions. well, there was their intended quarry; and with two guns to depend on, surely they ought to make quick work of the beast. the only difficulty about it was the treacherous light, for the lantern flickered in the draught; though until that critical moment thad had paid no attention to this fact. "have you a bead on her head, aleck?" he whispered; at the same time himself drawing his gun up to his shoulder and glancing along the double barrel; for thad was of course carrying his marlin with him at the time. "yes," came the answer. "i'm going to count, slowly and evenly. when i say three, let go, aleck!" "i understand, thad." "all right. hope we get her, sure. i'd hate to be bitten, or clawed by such a mad creature. here goes, aleck! one!" "yes." "two!" a second passed, and then came the word: "three!" it was drowned in a tremendous, deafening crash, as both guns were discharged so closely together that it made one report. thad of course had a second barrel to hold in reserve. he had more or less difficulty in seeing through the thin curtain of powder smoke that followed the double discharge; but at least no sprawling figure came flying at them, with snapping jaws that were eager to rend and tear. "she's done for, thad!" exclaimed aleck, joyfully, as they heard a commotion beyond, and could see something moving with short jerks, like an animal kicking its last. "wait--hold on till i pick up the lantern; she may only be wounded, and get you, if you don't look out. besides, those cubs are partly grown, and may be big enough to show fight." thad thus held his comrade back for a brief time until he could snatch up the light, and take his place in the van, which was really what he wanted to do. as they approached the spot where a dark bundle lay, they could still see something of a movement. "she isn't dead yet, i'm afraid, thad," cried aleck, who had a single-shot rifle, and was therefore without further means of defence until he could find time to slip another cartridge into the chamber. "oh! i guess so," answered thad; "what you see moving must be the whelps. yes, i can see one right now, and he's a savage looking little beast on my word. we'll have to knock him on the head, aleck. wolves must be killed wherever they are found. nobody ever spares them, toby smathers says. they're of no use at all, and do a great amount of harm, killing game and sheep, and even weak cattle in the winter season." aleck soon dispatched the growling cub with the stock of his gun, and then looked around for more. "do you expect that this was the only whelp?" he asked. "well, no, but the other must have escaped, somehow," replied thad. "it doesn't matter to us, though, for the little beast will perish, without a mother to supply it food." but although thad never dreamed that such a small thing could have any bearing on their fortunes, it proved to be a fact, as would be shown before a great while. "shall we go on, now?" asked aleck, after they had looked down on the big lean wolf that would never again hunt game in the passes and valleys of the rockies; "i'm anxious to see what lies beyond, you know, thad." "well, i don't blame you a bit, either, aleck; in fact, to tell the honest truth, i'm feeling somewhat that way myself, even if i haven't got the interest you have in the matter. so let's go right along. have you loaded up again?" "i'm just finishing now, thad," came the reply. accordingly, the forward progress was resumed. thad saw that they were rapidly drawing near what would likely prove to be a chamber of some size; and he anticipated that whatever was to be found would greet them here. just as he expected, a couple of minutes later they passed out from the tunnel which was a continuation of the fissure they had entered, and found themselves in a vaulted chamber. it was of some height, for the dim light of the lantern just reached the roof. "oh! what a strange place!" exclaimed aleck, looking around with something like awe; "and to think that this was that my father saw that time. do you expect this can be the silver lode, thad?" and he pointed to the wall, where a broad streak of darkish ore cropped out. thad was no miner, but he had been interested in geology at school, and knew a little about the appearance of precious metals in their natural state. "i don't doubt it one little bit, aleck," he said, with a quiver to his voice. "and see here, you can tell that some one has pounded off pieces of the ore; why, i can even note where the hammer struck; and on the ground small bits still lie, just as they fell years ago, when your father found his way in here, and made this grand discovery. shake hands, aleck! i want to be the first to congratulate you on finding the hidden mine again. you're a lucky boy, let me tell you. i'm glad for your sake, aleck; and for that dear little mother who is thinking of you right now, no doubt." "thank you, thad," replied the other, with a break in his voice, although it was joy that almost overcame him. "and what do i not owe to you, and the chums of the silver fox patrol? for if you hadn't come to my rescue, when that scoundrel of a kracker had me caged on that horrible little shelf of rock up the cliff, like as not i'd be there still, and ready to tell all to save my life." "i don't believe that!" cried the scoutmaster, quickly. "i've seen enough of you to know you'd have died before you gave him what belonged only to your mother. and the chances are, you'd have found some way of getting down from there, when it came to the worst." "yes, fallen down, most likely, when they had made me so weak i couldn't look over without getting dizzy. but thad, let's forget all that now, and look around here. how it thrills me just to think that dad found this mine so long ago, and that during these years it's remained hidden from all men; just as if something might be holding it back until i grew old enough to come up here with that chart, to discover it again. why, i can almost believe that _he_ is here right now, and smiling his approval on my work; for he was a good dad, i tell you." they prowled around for a long time, examining the walls of the chamber, and following up the wide lode of rich ore, until thad, inexperienced as he was, could estimate that it must prove to be a very valuable mine, once placed in working condition. "here, let's both of us fill our pockets with specimens of the ore," the patrol leader remarked, when they began to think of once more seeking the exit, so strangely hidden from the eyes of any possible passer by; "like as not you'll want them, to convince some capitalist that you've got the goods, when making arrangements to sell a part of the mine, so as to get the money to work with." "yes, that sounds sensible," declared aleck. "dad did the same; and if he hadn't those specimens, nobody would ever have believed that he'd found anything worth while. and now, do we start back to the fissure in the cliff, thad?" "might as well;" replied the other. "and while we're about it, let's drag out the dead wolves, so as to throw them in some hole where they won't bother any more." "i wonder if that other cub came back; i'd better make ready to knock it on the head, for it would die anyway, without a mother." aleck's voice had a catch in it as he said this, and thad understood; the boy was thinking of his own mother, and how her prayers for his safety must have been the means of raising up for him such staunch friends as the scouts of the silver fox patrol. but when they came to the place where the animals lay they saw nothing of the other partly grown wolf. so thad, having his gun and the lantern to manage, took charge of the offspring, while aleck tugged at the big she wolf; and in this fashion they drew near the exit. "sh!" it was thad who uttered this low hiss of warning. his action was prompt in addition, for raising the lantern, he gave one sturdy puff, causing the flame to vanish. utter darkness surrounded them. aleck had dropped the leg of the big wolf, and drew back the hammer of his rifle. "perhaps it was the other cub, thad?" he whispered, as softly as the night wind creeps in and out of the trees, caressing each leaf as it passes on. "no, it sounded more like voices!" came the equally low reply. "voices! oh! do you mean men may be near us?" gasped aleck, a cold chill passing over him at the dreadful prospect of losing his long-sought patrimony just after finding it. "it sounded like that kracker; listen, and we'll soon know," thad went on to say; and crouching there, the two boys waited for a repetition of the suspicious sound. chapter xxv. close to discovery. when the sound of the voice came again even aleck heard it plainly. why, it seemed so very near that his first thought was that the men must have found the entrance to the treasure cave, and were pushing along the tunnel at that very moment. but on reflection aleck realized that this could not be so, for the voice came from somewhere in the open air. "i jest ain't agoin' any further, an' that's a fact. might as well rest up right here as keep on. i never was for comin' back, to spy on them ere scouts, but two agin one kerried the day. so here we be, tired in body, hungry, and nigh 'bout ready to drop. i say let's camp, and wait till mornin'." "that's dickey bird," whispered thad in the ear of his companion. aleck had had a load taken from his breast. although the three men might be so close to the entrance of the mine that they could toss a stone into it, still it seemed only mere accident that brought them here, and not design, or a suspicion as to the truth. another voice chimed in now, that of kracker himself. "oh! as for that, i'm about as leg weary as you can be; and ready to rest up a bit. so waffles, stir around, and gather some tinder to start a blaze. this night air is some cool, too. and say, i'm that hungry i could eat anything 'most. but with only one six-shot gun in the crowd, it's going to be hard lines to provide grub, i reckon." "then why'd you turn back, when we was all started for a place where we could git all the eats we wanted, with money to pay for 'em?" grumbled dickey bird. "why? any fool could see that," retorted the big prospector, sternly. "here i've been looking for this mine years and years, and it's got to be the one dream of my life to find the same. that boy knows; he's just been waitin' till he growed up big enough to start out. you saw how he acted, and said he'd die before he'd give up what belonged to his mother. that proves he's got the combination, either in his head, or somewhar about his clothes, which we couldn't find." "well," said the grumbler, "what good is that same agoin' to do us, now that he's in with that party of scouts, who say they'll stand up for him right along? we ain't got no show, seems to me, kracker." "we ain't, hey?" replied the other, disdainfully. "jest because you can't see anything before your nose, you say they ain't nothing doing. let me tell you we never was nearer that same mine than we is now." thad felt his companion give a sudden start; he himself was wondering what these strange words of the prospector might mean; though he could not believe that the other could really suspect the presence of that fissure back of the vines. "as how? mebbe you wouldn't mind tellin' me, to ease up the pain in my legs; while waffles, he's astartin' that ere fire?" dickey bird went on, skeptically. "sure thing," answered the big man who controlled the party of mine seekers. "if that boy does know the secret, he's going to open up while he's got them scouts to back him, ain't he? he'll want to feast his eyes on some of that same rich ore--that goes without saying. all right, let him, say i. we'll try and be close enough at hand to discover whar the pesky entrance lies; and while they're hangin' on up here, it's us to streak it for town and file a claim on that mine by description. first comer gets the persimmon every time. i ain't been in this line of business all my life without learnin' something." again did thad feel his companion move restlessly. it was as though aleck felt a sudden fear oppress him lest this sly old thief should yet get ahead in entering a claim for the mine. the flicker of the kindling fire now began to show through the vines at the mouth of the opening. what if these men stayed there until morning, how were the boys to leave? even when the moon stopped shining upon the face of the cliff, the light of the nearby fire would continue to light it up, so that they would not dare try and creep out. such a movement, if seen or suspected by the campers, must arouse their curiosity, and lead to an investigation. then the only thing that could save the mine for aleck would be a hurried rush to town, in which they might be beaten by the others. it was not a pleasant thought, although of course, if necessary, the boys could stay there without any great amount of privation. the constant chance of discovery would bother them much more than anything else. dickey bird was still grumbling, it seemed. things evidently did not please him at all, and only because the fear he entertained for kracker, the man might have deserted the expedition. "i jest don't like it around here, and that's what," they heard him say presently. "it ain't the nicest place agoin' either. now what d'ye reckon that ere rumbling noise was, we all heard a while ago? waffles, he sez it was thunder; but they ain't nary a cloud as big as my hand anywhar 'round. sounded more like earthquake noise to me. i was in that shake down at frisco remember, an' ain't likely to forgit how it starts. if these here mountings began to roll over on us, we'd be in a nice pickle, now, eh? i tell you i don't like it any too much." "drop that kind of talk, dickey bird," ordered the big prospector, gruffly, "and draw up closer to the fire here. you're cold that's what, and things they looks kind of blue like. get warmed up and you'll feel better. i've got a little dried meat in my knapsack, and we'll chew on that for a change." "good for you, kunnel!" exclaimed the discontented one, whose mood probably had its inception in hunger, after all. "and don't be long about passin' that same around, will ye? i'm that nigh famished i could eat indian dog, though i never thought i'd ever come to that." the three prospectors sat down around the fire, and in order to overhear what they might say while they munched at the tough pemmican, thad crept closer to the vine screen. something moved ahead of him, and he thought he saw the vines tremble, as though giving passage to some sort of body. immediately afterwards there was a shout from one of the three prospectors, and they could be seen scrambling hastily to their feet, showing every evidence of alarm. "what is that coming this way?" roared kracker. "say, looks like on'y a wolf cub, arter all!" declared dickey bird, with a catch in his husky voice, showing plainly how startled he had been. "well, now, that's just what it seems to be; knock the critter on the head, one of you," and the big man dropped back again to his seat. it was waffles who picked up a club, and jumping forward, hastened to wind up the earthly career of the motherless wolf whelp; though the savage little beast snarled furiously at his approach, and showed fight. "now i wonder what next?" remarked kracker, as he watched the other engaged in a regular fight with the cub, which would not give up the ghost as easily as waffles had evidently anticipated. indeed, the second man had to also arm himself with a club, and put in a few vicious blows before the wolf whelp was subdued. "that's what comes to a man when he ain't got no gun!" complained dickey bird; from which remark it might be taken for granted that if there was only one revolver in the crowd, which the scouts had allowed them to retain possession of, kracker had made sure to hold that. "oh! that was only a cub, and a wolf ain't anything to be scared of!" remarked the big prospector; though he turned his head even while speaking, as though he fancied that he heard something moving in the bushes back of him, with visions of a red-eyed furious wolf mother coming to demand satisfaction for the killing of her offspring. "whar d'ye reckon the critter kim from now?" demanded dickey bird. "oh!" whispered aleck, as though something warned him the danger point was getting very close now. "first thing i see, he was acomin' away from the rock yonder," remarked waffles, pointing straight at the hanging vines that screened the fissure so completely. "then it looks like he might a come out of them vines?" suggested kracker, carelessly. "reckon, now, he did," replied the other. "go and take a look, waffles," added the big man. "if so be we expect to sleep right here, we want to know if there's any wolf around. i ain't so fond of the ugly critters that i want to have one crawlin' all over me when i'm trying to get some rest. look behind the vines, i say, waffles, and make sure." waffles did not seem any too anxious to obey. possibly, if he had gripped some sort of firearm in his hand, he might not have shown the same timidity. perhaps he too had an animosity toward ferocious and maddened wolves; and besides, it had been his hand that had given the finishing blow to that nasty little spitting cub, just now, and the mother wolf might have it in for him on that account. but then he feared the scorn of the big prospector even more than he did the possibility of danger from a she wolf bereft of her whelps. and so, rather hesitatingly to be sure, the man started toward the cliff, with the intention of lifting the screen of vines, and peering behind the same. of course he would immediately learn of the fact that there was a fissure in the rock; and curiosity was apt to induce the men to make an attempt to explore the cavity, since they were all experienced miners, and eager to discover signs of a "find" in some unexpected place. closer came waffles. he was now within a few feet of the vines, and indeed, had one hand stretched out, as with the intention of clutching the mass of vegetation, and drawing it aside; while the other gripped that stout cudgel, with which he expected to defend himself desperately, should he be attacked. aleck was quivering with suspense, and thad could easily understand that he must be handling his gun, as though tempted to discharge this, and frighten the man off. but that would be giving the secret away, for these men were cunning; and after they had come to figure things out, they would arrive at something like the truth. if discovery were to be averted other means must be employed in order to keep waffles from raising that curtain, or at least daring to venture into the fissure as much as one foot. finding the ear of his companion thad managed to whisper in it the few words: "don't shout." "do just what i do; we've got to scare him!" and aleck pressed his arm, to let the scoutmaster know that he understood; even though the means to be employed might as yet be a mystery to him. chapter xxvi. the crow boy's honor. just as the prospector had started to draw the curtain of vines back, there came a most dreadful growl that made aleck jump, under the belief that the she wolf he had been dragging after him, might have come back to life, and was about to pounce on the destroyers of her lair. then all at once it struck him that thad must have been the cause of this savage growl; that was no doubt what he meant when he spoke so confidently of knowing a way to frighten the man off. indeed, waffles did spring back instantly, uttering a cry of terror. he fully expected to see the beast that had uttered that ferocious growl come flying through the vine screen, leaping at his throat. "what is it?" shouted kracker, himself scrambling to his feet clumsily, owing to the girth of his waist. he seemed to be dragging something out of a rear pocket, and no doubt this was the single weapon which the boy scouts had allowed the men to carry off with them, at the time kracker and his companions found it necessary to confess themselves beaten in the game of wits. "a wolf is layin' behind them vines; didn't you hear her give tongue like sixty? ketch me aliftin' anything thar, i tell you. ugh! i ain't lost no wolf. chances are it's the mother of that cub, too; an' she'll be that mad when she knows we killed it, nawthin' won't stop her rushin' the camp. let's clear out of here?" "but we got our fire started, an' all of us feel dead tired, too," complained dickey bird, who was evidently struggling between two opinions, and did not know which was the lesser evil--remain where they were, with that savage beast hovering around; or once more pursue their weary way elsewhere. kracker had approached close to the vines, and thad thought it a good time to give another growls which he did with new emphasis. and aleck, not wanting to be left out of the game entirely, tried his hand also. "look out, kunnel, thar's two of the critters!" shouted waffles, turning and edging further away from the rock wall. "a hull den of 'em, i reckons!" added dickey bird, who no longer cared to stay in such a dangerous vicinity. thad reached out his hand, and shook the vines violently. this action completed the demoralization of the three prospectors. almost weaponless as they were, they seemed to lack their ordinary courage. "run! they's comin' out arter us, kunnel!" cried waffles, suiting the action to his words, by turning and dashing wildly away. the second man followed close at his heels, just as thoroughly demoralized. kracker might have stood it out, for kracker gripped a firearm in his fat hand; but when he found that he was being deserted by his companions, the big prospector also started to run clumsily away, breathing out all manner of threatenings against the other two for cowards. thad no longer growled, but lying there on the rocky floor of the fissure, he shook all over with half-suppressed laughter. "that's the time we saved the day with our growls, aleck!" he whispered, when he could control himself to some extent. the other lad felt even more exultant. the mine had been in danger, but thanks to the ready wit of the scoutmaster, the enemy had been frightened away before they learned anything. and so aleck, feeling that he had plenty of cause for rejoicing, soon joined thad in soft laughter. "no danger of those fellows coming back to investigate, do you think?" he asked. "well, if you could judge from the hurried way they lit out, i guess we needn't dream that they'll ever want to see this cliff again," replied thad. "and when we want to, we can crawl out ourselves, can't we?" aleck went on. "sure thing, right now is the time, because they're traveling for all they're worth, and never even looking back over their shoulders as they gallop along." "how about these wolves; shall we drag them out, and throw the carcases away in some hole?" asked thad's companion, evidently only too glad to do just whatever the scoutmaster decided were best. indeed, he had reason to feel the utmost confidence in thad brewster; from the very first this new friend had directed affairs in a way that aleck looked on as simply wonderful. it was almost like a dream to him, the coming of these scouts, their championing his almost lost cause, and bringing success out of failure. no wonder then that aleck felt so willing to trust this staunch friend through thick and thin. no wonder that he asked his opinion, knowing full well that whatever thad decided would be best. "might as well get rid of the things while we're about it," was what thad said. "sooner or later you'll be entering this passage again, i hope with capitalists along with you to look the mine over, and decide how much money they'll advance to begin its working; and you wouldn't find it nice here, if we left these bodies to cause a disagreeable odor. but we must be careful not to disarrange the vines. and i want to rub out any tracks we may leave, before quitting this place." accordingly both the mother wolf and the cub were taken outside. it was not a difficult thing to find a deep hole into which all of the dead animals could be cast; and after this duty had been accomplished the two boys returned to the mouth of the hidden mine. the fire had been kicked under foot, and extinguished; though thad afterwards made sure to place the embers in such a position that it would appear to have gone out of its own accord. this was to keep the prospectors from suspecting the truth, should they have the temerity to ever come back again, for one of them had lost his hat in his mad haste to depart. then lighting the lantern, thad tried the best he knew how to smooth over any footprint he or his companion may have made close to the fissure in the rock. he wished allan might be there just then, for he would have known how to go about it better. "all right now," he announced a little later, as he arose from his knees. "what had we better do, stay around here, or try and work a little closer back to camp, to see what has happened there?" aleck questioned. "i was thinking it might pay us to do that last," the scoutmaster replied. "we needn't show ourselves, of course; but could hang around until your rascally old uncle and that sheriff went away. now, if only it was some one else he wanted to nab, what a fine chance this would be for you to get him as an officer of the law to help you locate the mine. but i suppose that would be too dangerous." "it's an idea worth thinking about," aleck declared, "and we may find a way yet to carry it out. i hope we won't run across those three scared men, because they headed this way when they ran off. you don't mean to carry the lantern lighted, do you, thad?" "well, i should say not. it would only advertise the fact that a couple of very fresh boy scouts were wandering around. why, those very men might sight us and lie in wait to capture you again," with which thad blew out the lantern. they started on. thanks to the moonlight they were able to keep their course fairly well; sometimes under the low trees, and again among masses of piled up rocks. far above their heads towered the mighty mountains, their tops capped with snow. thad never glanced up at them without thinking how eagerly he and his chums had looked forward to this chance for seeing the fortress nature had built up and down the western country, separating the pacific coast from the balance of the land. "listen!" said aleck, laying a hand on his companion's sleeve. "did you think you heard a voice again?" asked thad, whispering the words, for there was a spice of danger in the very air around them. "i sure did; and there it is again. whatever is that man doing?" "sounds to me like that waffles?" suggested thad. "but what would he be praying for, tell me?" asked aleck. "praying?" echoed the other, astonished himself. "well, listen to him, would you; he seems to be begging somebody not to hurt him? do you suppose they've gone, and had a falling-out among themselves, and the colonel is threatening to finish his man for running away?" aleck went on, still keeping his voice lowered. "why, hardly that, because he ran as fast as the rest of them," replied thad. "but come, let's creep forward a little, and find out what all the fuss is about." as they proceeded to do this, the sound of waffles' peculiar voice came more and more plainly to their hearing; and sure enough, he was certainly pleading earnestly with some unknown one. "think what a guy i'll be if so be ye do hit, and cut my pore ears off, jest in spite work?" he was whining; "i admit that i done ye dirt, when i hooked that bead belt from yer place, meanin' to sell the same. but shore i didn't know as how ye vallied it so high. never'd a put a hand on it, if i'd been told 'twar a sacred fambly relic, and that outsiders hadn't orter touch the same. let me go this time, fox, and shore i promises never to do hit again. my ears is all i got, and think how i'd look without the same. ye got me down, and i cain't help myself, ef so be ye mean to do hit; but better let me off this time. you ain't a wild injun, and you knows it ain't doin' right to try and mend one wrong with another. let me go, fox; i'm asayin' i'm sorry, an' a man can't do more'n that." the mystery was explained. the fox had followed thad and aleck from the camp, no doubt with the idea of standing up for them, if they needed help. he must have been hovering near when the three prospectors started their fire, and witnessed all that happened afterward. when the three frightened men made their wild flight, the fox, still burning with a desire to wipe out the insult that waffles had put upon his family when he took away that revered wampum belt that had never before been touched by profane hands, had followed in their wake. finding a chance to jump on the back of waffles, he had borne the man to the ground. doubtless the other two had continued their mad flight, never caring what would happen to waffles, and only thinking of saving their own precious bodies. and ever since that minute, the fox had been sitting on the fallen man, telling him how he meant to punish him for his mean act, by making waffles a reproach among his fellows, since only thieves have their ears sliced off in some countries. thad nudged his companion, and they started to creep closer to the spot where the two figures prone on the ground could be indistinctly seen. chapter xxvii. the turn of the tide. "hold on, fox! that man has been punished enough; and besides you've recovered the belt, so there's been no real harm done. let him get up!" it was thad who said this, as he and aleck broke cover, and appeared before the astonished eyes of the two who were on the ground, the crow boy flourishing his knife in a way calculated to make any one's blood run cold. the fox seemed to recognize that thad spoke as one having authority. he had seen him manage things in the camp of the scouts, and noticed how willingly the rest of the boys recognized his leadership. and secretly the crow boy admired thad more than any paleface lad he had ever met on or off the reservation, saving possibly aleck. so he immediately arose, and hastened to conceal his knife. "give big scare, so him never try again!" he muttered, looking down. "don't ye believe him; he just meant to take my ears off, for a fact," exclaimed the man as he gained his feet, hardly knowing whether to start in running once more, or trust to thad to stand between himself and the injured crow boy. "well, then, we just happened along this way in time to save them for you; and waffles, suppose you clear out of this as fast as you can. don't forget what we said about shooting, if ever we found you around our camp. now, if you get away in a hurry, i'll agree to keep the fox beside me. only if you know what's good for you, never go near the reservation again." "well, i never will, make up your mind to that. hold him now; i'm going to skedaddle out of this on the jump!" and sure enough waffles did, rushing away as only a good healthy fright could urge on a tired man. nor did any of them see him again, or either of the other two for that matter. they must have made up their minds that the region around there was unhealthy for fellows of their stamp, and that the sooner they turned their faces toward civilization the better for them. joined by the fox, thad and aleck continued to walk toward the distant camp of the scouts further up the valley. the night was getting well along when they halted to rest, having gone as far as was deemed advisable. they had talked it well over, and the fox had even told them what he knew about sheriff bob. this information was of so pleasing a nature that it seemed apt to have more or less influence with regard to making their final decision, as to what their plan should be in the morning. they were up early, and had a bite to eat, a little food having been brought along by the far-sighted scoutmaster, who when he and aleck cleared out, did not know when they would get back again. again they talked matters over. thad was of a mind to betake himself back to the camp, leaving the others in hiding; but where they could see a signal he would make, if so be he wanted them to come in. "this thing of your hiding out like you're a common criminal is all wrong," the scoutmaster had declared, somewhat angrily. "and i'm going to put it up to that sheriff in a way that must convince him he's been humbugged by your scheming old uncle. then we can get him to go with us, to see you put up your notice, and claim the mine your father originally discovered. after that you can go with him to the place where you have to file your sworn declaration of entry, and have things all done according to law. the silver fox patrol will meanwhile camp in front of that wolf den, and hold it secure for you! understand all that, aleck?" "indeed, i do; and no fellow ever before found such grand good friends as you and the rest of the scouts have shown yourselves to be to me," and as he shook hands with thad, on the latter's leaving, aleck had tears in his eyes. "oh! that's what scouts are for, you see; to be a help to each other, and to anybody that's in trouble, when they can lend a helping hand. now, watch for the signal; for if i give it, you can feel satisfied you have nothing to fear from that sheriff." with that thad strode away, heading in a roundabout way for the camp, so that his coming from a certain direction might not betray the hiding-place of the other two. great was the astonishment of allan, and those of the patrol who were in camp, when a lone figure was seen approaching that they quickly made out to be thad. all sorts of possible sources of new trouble loomed up in their minds; but as the scoutmaster drew nearer, they were considerably relieved to discover that he was smiling, as though not worried in the least. of course the sheriff and uncle artemus had jumped up when the others did, and observed the coming of the young scoutmaster but with different emotions. the lawyer only wondered whether this might mean the surrender of his nephew to the authority invested in the office of sheriff; but the official himself was engaged in studying the approaching lad, of whom he had heard so much, and drawing his own opinion with regard to his character. "glad to see you again, thad!" called out bumpus. "that's right, and so says every one of us," echoed giraffe, determined not to be left out of any talking-bee, if there was one. thad only nodded, and smiled. he walked right over to where allan stood, and engaged him in earnest consultation; while the others looked on, not knowing what to make of this most unexpected turn of events. presently allan turned and called out: "would you mind coming over here, mr. sheriff; we want to tell you something that ought to interest you, about this case?" the shrewd lawyer tried to hang on to the coat-tails of the big sheriff, as he exclaimed, half threateningly, half pleadingly: "don't you go, sheriff; they want to blarney you into believing their side of the story. you've got a warrant for the arrest of a vicious young fellow, even if he is my own nephew, who has robbed me of valuable papers. you've got to do your sworn duty! better stay by me, and the pay'll be sure. i wouldn't mind doubling what i promised, if so be i get my papers back. and the boy can go hang, for all of me, then." but the sheriff tore himself loose, and walked over to where the two earnest-faced scouts were awaiting him. allan introduced him to the patrol leader, and from the hearty hand-clasp which the officer bestowed upon him, thad felt sure that the case of poor badgered aleck rawson was as good as won, even before he had commenced to do any persuasive talking. he began at the start, and related all that aleck had told him of his troubles in the past; and how not only kracker and his kind had annoyed the widow of the dead prospector, but this sly old lawyer as well, all of them imbued with the same mad desire to learn where the hidden mine was located. he related numerous instances that almost amounted to persecution, whereby uncle artemus had tried to force the widow, through stress of poverty, to sell him the secret he believed she carried locked in her breast; until presently thad saw by the angry glow in those blue eyes of the sheriff that he had accomplished the aim he had in view. meanwhile the old lawyer had been on needles and pins. he jumped up and sat down again half a dozen times. of course he could easily understand that thad was trying to wean the sheriff away from his duty; and there were signs that told uncle artemus this very thing was gradually being accomplished before his very eyes. he could not stand it much longer, and finally he advanced toward the spot where the sheriff and the two scouts stood. thad had no longer the slightest fear that his work would be undermined. he knew that sheriff bob would not longer lend his official stamp to any such underhand work as that which this "slick" lawyer from denver was endeavoring to carry out. and so he could view the coming of the other without anxiety. "i hope you haven't allowed yourself to be at all influenced by any specious story you've listened to, mr. sheriff," the old man started to say. the officer drew his capacious hand across his chin, as though collecting his thoughts, in order to frame a suitable reply. "i've been listening to some mighty interesting facts, mr. rawson," he said. "lies, every one of them, i warrant you, sir," snapped the lawyer, who began to feel that he was losing his grip on the case right then and there, since this little whipper-snapper of a leader among these boys appeared more capable of swaying the sheriff than he could himself do. "oh! i don't know about that, mr. rawson," the sheriff went on, his eyes losing some of their twinkle, and a steely look taking its place, which thad understood must be his official face; "i know a heap more'n i did about things when i agreed to take this here warrant, and execute the same for you, by arresting a lad you claimed was your nephew, which was true; and who had been stealing valuable papers from you, which i reckon was only a yarn." "do you mean to say you'd take the word of a mere half-grown boy rather than that of a gentleman, a lawyer of considerable repute in denver, as you happen to know, mr. sheriff? things have got to a nice pass when that can be." "listen!" thundered the sheriff, turning squarely on the astonished lawyer, and shaking his finger under his long nose; "you lied to me about all that valuable paper business. it was _you_ that wanted to steal something you believed this lad carried about his person, a paper that would tell you where to find that hidden silver mine! and i was fool enough to believe you, and to be hoodwinked that way. a sheriff is sworn to do his duty _only_ so long as he believes he is doing right; he has no claim to persecute an innocent party. i came all this way with you, though from the first i suspected you had a card up your sleeve, mr. rawson. now understand it first and last, i consider myself no longer in your service. not a cent that you promised me will i touch. i'm going to try and make amends to this poor son of jerry rawson for what i've done to worry him, by standing up and helping him take possession of his father's mine. he's found it too, because look at these specimens of the richest silver ore i ever set eyes on. understand that, sir?" "but--you carry a warrant for his arrest!" bristled the lawyer, as a last resort. the big sheriff pulled a paper out of his pocket, which he proceeded to tear into a score of fragments, laughing scornfully meanwhile. "do you see that, mr. rawson, sir? now where's the warrant for arresting aleck, your nephew? call the boy in, thad; i want to shake hands with him, and tell him bob mcnulty is ready to back him up in holding that mine. and he's got a whole lot to be thankful for, i tell you, boys, that when things looked darkest for him, a lucky chance, or some people would call it the favor of providence, sent you scouts into this valley to camp. not another word, mr. rawson, if you know what's good for you, sir!" chapter xxviii. good-bye to the rockies--bound for home. "this is aleck rawson, sheriff mcnulty," said thad, some little time later, when, in answer to his signal, two figures came promptly into camp. the officer greeted the boy warmly, and what he said caused aleck's cheeks to burn red with delight, as well as his eyes to sparkle, as he turned them, filled with gratitude upon thad; for it seemed to him the scoutmaster must be little short of a magician, since he could even change enemies into warm friends. why, even uncle artemus, as if he knew enough to get in out of the wet when it rained, came up, and wanted to congratulate the boy for having won out, and found the mine his father had first set eyes on; but aleck had too many bitter feelings in connection with the artful lawyer, and coolly turned his back on him. arrangements were soon made whereby the sheriff would go with thad and aleck that very day to see the mine, and be a witness to the act whereby the son of the first discoverer laid claim to the valuable property. then he said he would accompany aleck to the city where the legal part of the business must be completed. he also declared he knew the very capitalist, a man who was the essence of honor, and whom he would like to interest in the matter; so aleck expressed a wish to meet him, that some arrangements might be quickly placed before his mother. his one thought seemed to be to get the glorious news to that waiting little woman as soon as possible. she had suffered enough, he declared; and please heaven this would be the end, so far as money could bring relief. on the following morning, then, the sheriff left, with aleck and the guide keeping him company, and old uncle artemus "tagging on;" anxious now to get back to denver, and take up his legal business, since his hopes of ever having a share in the newly-discovered silver mine were crushed, wrecked by his own malicious actions toward his brother's family. had he done what was right in the premises, instead of greedily wanting to grab the whole, as aleck put it, uncle artemus might have been the very capitalist needed to develop the mine; but no one had any faith in him any longer. of course thad took his scouts, and made a permanent camp there, about where the three prospectors had started to settle down late on that night, when the boys were coming out of the fissure in the rock. how the others did laugh, again and again, when they heard all about the fright given to kracker and his companions, by the growls which thad and aleck managed to emit. of course the big-horn hunters had come in before that other day was much more than half done, and smithy was proudly carrying the horns that had belonged to _his_ quarry. he hardly seemed like the same smithy they had known so long. why, he was a transformed boy in many things, and even failed to brush off the dust some one pointed out to him on his khaki garments. and when smithy reached a point that he could ignore such things, there must surely be a great transformation taking place in his make-up. he was brim-full of questions now, eager to learn the thousand-and-one wrinkles of woodcraft, and expressing his determination to accomplish wonderful things before many months had passed. and thad knew that smithy would prove a sad disappointment to all those thirty-seven old maid aunts and cousins who had spoiled him in the past; for he had suddenly discovered that he had the red blood of his father running in his veins; and the lure of all outdoors was beginning to take hold of him. never again would that boy be satisfied to sit at the feet of an old lady, and learn how to make fancy-work; oh! no, after this, the baseball and football fields would claim a goodly share of his attention; for smithy was bent on making himself _manly_, a credit to the father whose name he bore, and who he knew had once dearly loved to hunt, and fish, and spend his vacations in the woods, close to nature, as do all men who are worthy of the name. before the time limit which thad and his chums had set for their stay in the haunts of the rockies had fully expired, aleck and the sheriff, accompanied by toby smathers, and several gentlemen who looked like financiers, came back. they had no sooner examined the mine than arrangements were immediately made for forming a company to open it. there was even talk about running a railroad spur up the valley from the nearest connection, so that the rich ore might be taken to a smelter, and stamping mills; though possibly it would be decided as an easier proposition to bring these things to the mine. and so, one fine day, the silver fox patrol of cranford troop of boy scouts said good-bye to aleck and several others who had become their friends since arriving in that region, where the massive rockies reared their snow-capped heads toward the blue skies, far outreaching the clouds at times. toby smathers was to go back with them as far as the nearest town on the railroad; and then he expected to return to the mine, having been offered a splendid position by the company. aleck meant to go down and see his mother and sisters presently, when he could keep away no longer; and pour into their laps some of the first proceeds from the now newly-discovered, but long-hidden silver mine. and later on thad had long letters from the western boy, in which he fully described the happiness that now reigned in his home; and again and again did that good little mother send her warmest regards to the brave lads who had been so instrumental in gaining this great fortune for the rawsons, and to whom she must ever feel gratitude of the deepest kind on account of having her son spared to her. of course we shall expect at some future time to once more make the acquaintance of thad brewster and his jolly lot of chums belonging to the silver fox patrol. with the advent of the new patrol, and other lads still clamoring for admittance into the troop, cranford was apt soon to take a front rank, as a town where the boys were organized for good. and when so many enterprising lads as allan, step hen, giraffe, bumpus, bob white, smithy, davey jones, and last, but far from least, the efficient assistant scoutmaster himself, thad brewster, continue to get together at every available opportunity, winter and summer, bent on having a royal good time, it may be set down as certain that lots of remarkable things are just bound to happen, that would make splendid reading. but for the present we will have to let bumpus take his bugle in hand, and in his customary clever way sound "taps," lights out. * * * * * transcriber's note: page added comma after "timber" in "through the big timber". page corrected spelling of "suggesed" to "suggested" in "of their attire suggesed". page added closing quotation after "precipice!" in "over the edge of the precipice!". page corrected spelling of "narnow" to "narrow" in "so many dangerous narnow paths". page added opening quotation before "but" in "over; but it wouldn't surprise me". page corrected spelling of "ony" to "any" in "if ony one did have". page corrected spelling of "seemd" to "seemed" in "for it seemd a monstrous". page moved opening quotation from end of "explain" to beginning of "one" in "aleck went on to explain. one of the men knew". page corrected spelling of "an" to "and" in "a while longer, an canvassed". page corrected spelling of "returnd" to "returned" in "they returnd once more". page corrected spelling of "dont" to "don't" in "dont move, aleck". page added opening quotation to beginning of "this sure takes the cake". page corrected spelling of "unusal" to "unusual" in "nothing so very unusal". page added opening quotation to beginning of "so, p'raps we kin get". page corrected spelling of "intelligennt" to "intelligent" in "thanks to the intelligennt manner". page removed extraneous quotation after "smathers," in "toby smathers, the forest ranger". page added opening quotation to beginning of "i could 'most imagine". page correct spelling of "belligerantly" to "belligerently" in "asserted giraffe, belligerantly". page corrected spelling of "litle" to "little" in "scoutmaster must be litle short". page removed extraneous "bob" in "bumpus, bob bob white". the boy scouts on the trail by george durston [illustration] the saalfield publishing company akron, ohio made in u. s. a. copyright, mcmxxi by the saalfield publishing co. [illustration] [illustration: they sent the message quickly, accurately.] the boy scouts on the trail chapter i plans for the holidays "where are you going to spend the holidays, frank?" the speaker was henri martin, a french boy of the new type that has sprung up in france since games like football and tennis began to be generally encouraged. he asked the question of his schoolmate, frank barnes, son of a french mother and an american father. frank's name was really francois; his mother had that much to do with his naming. but he was a typical american boy, none the less, and there was a sharp contrast between his sturdy frame and that of the slighter french boy who had become his best chum in the school both were attending near paris, at st. denis. "i don't really know, harry," said frank. "not exactly, that is. my uncle dick is coming over a little later, and i think we'll go to switzerland." his face clouded a little. "i--i haven't any real home to go to, you know. my father and mother--" "i know--i know, mon vieux," said henri, with the quick sympathy of his race. "but until your uncle comes--what then, hein?" "why, i'm to wait for him here, at the school," said frank. "he's a very busy man, you know, and it's hard for him to get away just any time he wants to. he will get here, though, early in august, i think." "but that won't do at all, frank!" exclaimed harry, impulsively. like many french boys, he spoke english perfectly and with practically no trace of an accent. "to spend a week or two weeks here in the school, all alone! no--i tell you what! i've an idea!" "what is it?" asked frank, a little amused at the horror with which his friend heard of the notion of staying in school after the holidays had begun. "why, come home with me until your uncle comes!" said harry. "that's what you must do. i live not so far away--not so very far. at amiens. you have heard of it? oh, we will have fine times, you and i. i am to join the boy scouts francais these holidays!" he called it boy scoots, and frank roared. the word scout had been retained, without translation, when the french adopted the boy scout movement from england, just as words like rosbif, football, and le sport had been adopted into the language. but all these words, or nearly all, have been given a french pronunciation, which give them a strange sound in anglo-saxon ears. "excuse me, harry," said frank, in a moment. "i didn't mean to laugh, but it does sound funny." "of course it does, frank," said henri, generously. "i speak english, so i can see that. but there's nothing funny about the thing, let me tell you. we began by calling the boy scouts eclaireurs francais, but general baden-powell didn't like it, so we made the change. really, we're a good deal like the english and american scouts. we have the same oath--we call it serment, of course, and our manual is just a translation of the english one." "i was going to join in america, too," said frank. "but then i came over here, and i didn't know there were scouts here. do you wear the same sort of uniforms?" "yes--just like the english," said harry. "you could join with me, couldn't you? you're going to be here for a whole year more, aren't you?" "yes. my mother"--he gulped a little at the word--"wanted me to know all about france, and never to forget that i had french blood in me, you see. my french grandfather was killed by the germans at gravelotte--he was a colonel of the line. and my mother, even though my father was an american, was always devoted to france." "we are like that--we french," said harry, simply. into his eyes came the look that even french boys have when they remember the days of . "the germans--yes, they beat us then. we were not ready--we were badly led. but our time will come--the time of la revanche. tell me, frank, you have seen the place de la concorde, in paris?" "yes. why?" "do you remember the statue of strassburg? how it is always draped in black--with mourning wreaths?" "yes." "the day is coming when the black shall be stripped off! alsace-lorraine--they are french at heart, those lost provinces of ours! they shall be french again in name, too. strassburg shall guard the rhine for us again--metz shall be a french fortress once more. we shall fight again--and next time we shall be ready! we shall win!" "i hope so--if war comes again," said frank, soberly. "but--" "_if_ war comes?" said harry, surprised. "don't you know it must come? france knows that--france makes ready. we shall not seek the war. but it is not enough for us to desire peace. the prussians are afraid of us. they will never rest content while we are strong. they thought they had crushed us forever in --but france was too great for them to crush! they made us pay a thousand million francs--they thought we should take years and years to pay, and that meanwhile they would keep their soldiers on our land, in our fortresses! but no! france paid, and quickly. and ever since we have prepared for the time when they would try to finish their work." "if war comes, i am for france," said frank, still soberly. "but war is a dreadful thing, henri." "we know that--we in france," said harry. "but there are things that are worse than war, frank. a peace that is without honor is among them. we do not want to fight, but we are not afraid. when the time comes, as it is sure to come, we shall be ready. but enough of that. there will be no war this year or next. we have not settled about your coming home with me. you will come?" "i'd love to," said frank. "if the head master says i can, i will most gladly. but will your people want me?" "my friends are their friends," said harry. "my mother says always, 'bring a friend with you, henri.' oh, there will be plenty for us to do, too. we shall take long walks and play tennis and ride and shoot. let us settle it to-day. come now to the office with me. we will ask the head master." they went forthwith to speak to monsieur donnet, the head of the school, who received them in his office. the school was a small one but it numbered among its pupils several english and american boys, whose parents wanted them for one reason or another to acquire a thorough knowledge of french. he heard their request, which was put by henri, pleasantly. "yes, that will be very well," he said. "i have been thinking of you, barnes. your uncle has written to me that he will be here about the tenth or fifteenth of august, and asked permission for you to stay here until then. but--" they waited, while m. donnet thought for a moment. "yes, this will be much better," he said. "i--i have been a little troubled about you, barnes. if all were well, you might stay here very well. but--" again he paused. "these are strange times," he said. "boys, have you read in the newspapers of the trouble between austria and servia?" they looked startled. "a little, sir," said frank. "there's always trouble, isn't there, in those parts?" "yes, but this may--who knows?--be different. i do not say there is more danger than usual but i have heard things, from friends, that have made me thoughtful. i am a colonel of the reserve!" henri's eyes gleamed suddenly, as they had a few minutes before when he had talked of how france was ready for what might be in store for her. "do you mean that there may be war, sir?" he asked, leaning forward eagerly. "no one knows," said the master. "but there are strange tales. aeroplanes that no one recognizes have flown above the border in the vosges. there are tales of fresh troops that the germans are sending to metz, to düsseldorf, to neu breisach." he struck his hand suddenly on his desk. "but this i feel--that when war comes it will be like the stroke of lightning from a clear sky! when there is much talk, there is never war. when it comes it will be because the diplomats will not have time, they and the men with money, the rothschilds and the others, to stop it. and if there should be trouble, not a man would be left in this school. so, barnes, i should be easier if you were with martin. i approve. that is well, boys." both boys were excited as they left the office. "he talks as if he knew something, or felt something, that is still a secret!" said frank, excitedly. "i wonder--" "of no use to wonder," said henri. really, he was calmer than his companion. "what is to come must come. but you are coming home with me, frank. we know that much. and that is good--that is the best news we could have, isn't it?" "it's certainly good news for me," said frank, happily. "oh, harry, i get so tired of living in school or in hotels all the time! it will seem good to be in a home again, even if it isn't my own home!" chapter ii to the colors in those days late in july, france, less than almost any country in europe, certainly far less than either england or america, was able to realize the possibilities of trouble. as a matter of fact, not for years had the peace of europe been so assured, apparently. president poincare of france had gone to visit the czar of russia, and the two rulers had exchanged compliments. the alliance of france and russia, they told one another, made war impossible, or nearly so. the emperor of germany was on a yachting cruise; even the old austrian kaiser, though required to watch affairs because of the death of his heir, the archduke franz ferdinand, murdered by a serb fanatic at sarajeve, had left vienna. even when the storm cloud began to gather the french government did all it could to suppress the news. the readiness of france was not in question. france was always ready, as henri martin had said. since the grim and terrible lesson of she had made up her mind never again to give the traditional enemy beyond the rhine--and, alas, now on this side of the rhine as well!--a chance to catch her unprepared. what the government wanted was to prevent the possibility that an excited populace, especially in paris, might force its hand. if war came it meant that germany should provoke it--if possible, begin it. it was willing to sacrifice some things for that. and this was because, in the years of peace, france had won a great diplomatic victory, the fruits of which the country must preserve. in france had had to face germany alone. she had counted upon help from austria, now germany's firm friend and ally, but then still smarting under the blow of the defeat four years before. she had hoped for help, perhaps, from roumania and from russia. but all that germany, by skillful trickery, had rendered vain. she had made france seem to be the aggressor, and france had forfeited the sympathy of england and of austria as a result. alone she had been no match for germany. and alone she would be as little a match for germany in as in . but she had prepared herself. now russia, no matter what the reason for war, would be with her. and, if france was attacked, england was almost sure to join her. everything would depend on that. with the great english navy to bottle up the german fleet, to blockade the german coasts, france felt that she was secure. and so the government was resolved that nothing should happen to make possible the loss of england's friendship; nothing that should give england even the shadow of an excuse for remaining neutral. so what the newspapers printed of the threats that austria was making against servia was carefully censored. there was nothing to show that austria was assuming a warlike attitude, and that russia, the friend of the little slav countries in the balkans, was getting ready to take the part of servia. there was nothing to show what the french government and every newspaper editor in paris knew must be a fact--that austria must have had assurance of german support, since she could not hope to make a winning fight, unaided, against the huge might of russia. that was why all over france life proceeded in the regular way, calm, peaceful, without event. some there were who knew that europe was closer to a general war than since the end of napoleon's dream of conquest. but the masses of the people did not know it. all over france the soldiers were active; the new recruits, reporting for the beginning of their three years of military service, were pouring into the depots, the headquarters of the army corps, to be assigned to their regiments. but that was something that happened every year. in a country where every man, if he is not a cripple or diseased, has to be a soldier for three years, the sight of a uniform, even of a long column of marching troops, means nothing. and then, with the most startling abruptness, there came a change. nothing official, as yet. but suddenly the government allowed the real news, or most of it, to be printed. austria had made demands of servia that no country could meet! russia had protested! russia and austria were mobilizing! germany had sent an ultimatum to russia, demanding that she stop massing her troops in poland and on the borders of east prussia. "it means war," said henri martin to frank. gone was the exultation of his voice. frank had noticed that, since the first appearance of the really ominous news, the excitability of his french schoolmates had disappeared. they were quiet; far quieter than american boys would have been in the same case, he thought. "but this is not france's quarrel," said frank. "she cares nothing for servia." "servia? bah! no one cares for servia--except austria and russia! servia is only an excuse. austria wants to get some ports and russia wants them, too, or wants a friendly country to have them. but i will tell you why it means war, frank, my friend. it is because guillaume, their kaiser, thinks it is the chance to crush france!" "why now more than at any other time, harry?" "lieutenant marcel told me what he thinks. it is that england is having much trouble. in ireland there is rebellion, almost, over the home rule. the germans think england will be afraid to fight, that she will have to think of her own troubles. he does not know those english, that kaiser! they have their quarrels among themselves. but if anyone else interferes--pouf! the quarrel is over--until the one who interferes is beaten." "yes, i believe that. we're like that in america, too. why, right after the civil war, we nearly had to fight about mexico. and the men in the south, who had just been fighting the northern army, were all ready to volunteer and fight for the country." "well, that is one reason, then. and, for another, france is getting stronger, and russia too. for a few years after the war with the japanese, russia was weak. but now she is getting strong again, and austria is getting weaker. if germany and austria can ever win it is now--that is what the kaiser believes. and why must france fight? even if she is not attacked she must help russia because of the treaty." "but she didn't fight with russia against japan." "because only one country was at war against her. if england had joined japan, we should have had to fight with russia against her," henri explained. it was during the morning recess that they held this conversation. now the bell called them back to school. the class to which they went was one that was being taught by m. donnet himself, the head master. he was at his place by his desk, and the boys had taken their seats. suddenly, just as the master was about to speak, a servant appeared with a telegram in his hand. he took it to the master. m. donnet tore it open and read it, while a serious, grave look came into his eyes. then he stood up. "mes enfants," he said, his whole manner somehow changed from the one they knew, "i am called away from you." he stood very straight now; frank had no difficulty, as he had had before, in imagining the schoolmaster as a soldier. "france needs me--our france. i go to luneville, to be prepared to receive the brave men who will fight under my command if--" he stopped. "if war shall come!" he finished the interrupted sentence. "i leave you. no man knows what the next few hours may bring forth. the order of 'mobilisation generale' has not yet been issued. only superior officers are called for as yet. perhaps i may return. if not, i shall exhort all of you who are sons of la patrie to do your duty. you are too young to fight, but you are none of you too young to be brave and loyal, to help your parents, and your mothers if your fathers are needed by the fatherland for active service. "you are not too young to show courage, no matter what may come. you are not too young to keep alive the spirit of the sons of france--the spirit that won at austerlitz and jena, that rose, like the phoenix from its ashes, after gravelotte and sedan, when the foe believed that france lay crushed for evermore! perhaps you, like all who are french, may be called upon to make sacrifices, sometimes to go hungry. but remember always that it is not only those who face the foe on the battle line who can serve the fatherland!" he drew himself up again. "farewell, then, mes enfants!" he said. "i go to meet again those other children i am to lead! vive la france!" for a moment, as he moved to the door, there was silence. and it was frank barnes, only half french, who jumped to the top of a desk and raised his voice in the most stirring of all patriotic airs--the marseillaise. with a will they joined him, english, american and french, for all were there. slowly, still singing, they followed the master from the class-room, and gathered outside in the open air of the school yard. and from other rooms, from all over the school, masters and boys poured out to join them and to swell the chorus. outside, in the street, a passing battalion of the infantry of the line, made up of smiling young soldiers, heard and took up the chorus, singing as they marched. there was no need of questions from those who heard the singing. in a moment the discipline of the school went by the board. and, when the song was done, they still remained together, waiting. in ten minutes, m. donnet appeared from the door of his own house. but now he was transformed. he was in the uniform of his rank, his sword was by his side; a servant carried his bags. he strode through the ranks of cheering boys to the gate, saluting right and left as he did so. chapter iii the call to arms "this does not yet mean war!" so m. donnet had cried, in a final word of warning, meaning, if possible, to do his part in the government's plan, still in force, of restraining the passions of the french people. no. it did not mean war. not quite. but it meant that war was inevitable; that within a few hours, at the most, mobilization would be ordered. this was on saturday. and that evening germany declared war on russia. within an hour posters were everywhere. the general mobilization had been ordered. the teachers in that school were young men. on the word they went. each knew what he had to do. each had his little book of instructions. he needed no orders. the mere fact that mobilization had been ordered was all he needed to know. he knew already where he must report, where his uniform and his equipment would be given to him, and which regiment he was to join. he was a soldier by virtue of the three years, or the two, he had spent already with the colors. he did not have to be drilled; all that had been done. he knew how to shoot, how to live in camp, how to march. if he was a cavalryman, he knew how to ride; if an artilleryman, how to handle the big guns. and as with the teachers, so it was with the other men about the school,--the gardeners, the servants, all of them. within an hour of the time when the order was issued, they were on their way and the school was deserted, save for boys and one or two old men, who bewailed the fact that they were too old to fight. in the streets st. denis looked like a deserted village. all the young men were going. swiftly preparations were made to close the school. madame donnet, left in charge when her husband went, called the boys together. "you must get home," she said. "here you cannot stay. there will be no way to care for you. and soon, too, the school will be used as a hospital. so it was in . i shall stay, and i shall prepare for what is to come. m. donnet telegraphed yesterday to all the parents, bidding them be ready for what has come. i will give money for traveling expenses. and in happier times we shall meet again." save for the friendly offer henri had already made, frank barnes might well have been in a sorry plight. and, indeed, he offered now to let his chum withdraw his invitation. "i have plenty of money, harry," he said. "and if i go into paris, to the american ambassador, or the consul, he will see that i am all right until my uncle comes. your family won't want a guest now." but harry wouldn't hear of this. "now more than ever!" he said. "it will be different. true--not as we had planned it before this came. but you shall come, and perhaps we shall be able to do something for france with the boy scouts. we shall see. but this much is certain--i think we shall not be able to go to amiens at once. amiens is in the north--it is that way that the soldiers must go, soldiers from paris, from tours, from orleans, from all the south. it is from the north that the germans will come. perhaps they will try to come through belgium. so, until the troops have finished with the railways, we must wait. we will go to my aunt in paris." and go they did to madame martin, henri's aunt, who lived in a street between the champs elysees and the avenue de l'alma, not far from the famous arch of triumph that is the centre of paris. at the station in st. denis, where they went from the school, they found activity enough to make up, and more than make up, for the silence and stillness everywhere else. the station was choked with soldiers, reservists preparing to report on the next day, the first of actual mobilization. women were there, mothers, wives, sweethearts, to bid good-bye to these young frenchmen they might never see again because of war. and there was no room on the trains to paris for any save soldiers. the gates of the station were barred to all others, and frank and harry went back to the school. "i know what we can do, of course," said harry. "it isn't very far. we'll leave our bags here at the school, and make packs of the things we need. and then we'll ride in on our bicycles. we were stupid not to think of that before." that plan they found it easy to put into execution. they had meant to abandon their bicycles for the time being, at least, but now they realized what a mistake it would have been to do that, since with every normal activity cut off by the war, the machines were almost certain to be their only means of getting from one place to another, in the beginning at least. mounted on their bicycles, they now found their progress easy. the roads that led into paris were crowded, to be sure. they passed countless automobiles carrying refugees. already the americans were pouring out of paris in their frantic haste to reach the coast and so take boat to england. on saturday night automobiles were still allowed to leave paris. next morning there would be a different story to tell. in paris, when they began to enter the more crowded sections, they saw the same scenes as had greeted them in st. denis, only on a vastly larger scale. everywhere farewells were being said. men in uniforms were all about. officers, as soon as they were seen, were hailed by the drivers of taxicabs, who refused even to think of carrying a civilian passenger if an officer wanted to get anywhere, or, if there were no officers, a private soldier. the streets were crowded, however, and with men. here there were thousands, of course, not required to report at once. "when mobilization is ordered," explained henri, "each man in france has a certain day on which he is to report at his depot. it may be the first day, the third, the fifth, the tenth. if all came at once it would mean too much confusion. as it is, everything is done quickly and in order." "it doesn't look it," was frank's comment. "no," said his chum, with a laugh. "that's true. but it's so, just the same. every man you see knows just when he is to go, and when the time comes, off he will go. why, even in your america, now, all the frenchmen who have gone there are trying to get back. i know. they will be here as soon as the ships can bring them. they will report to the consul first--he will tell them what to do." they made slow progress through the crowded streets. already, however, there was a difference in the sort of crowding. there were fewer taxicabs, very many fewer. and there were no motor omnibuses at all. "what has become of them?" asked frank. "aren't there men enough to run them?" "yes, and they are running them," said henri, dryly. "but not in paris. they are on their way to the border, perhaps. wherever they are, they are carrying soldiers or supplies. the government has always the right to take them all. even at the time of the manoeuvres, some are taken, though not all. it is the same with the automobiles. in a few days there will be none left--the army will have them all. officers need them to get around quickly. generals cannot ride now--it is too slow to use a horse. you have heard of leon bollet?" "no. who is he?" "he is a famous automobile driver in races. he has won the grand prix. he will drive a general. he is a soldier, like all frenchmen, and that will be his task--to drive some great general wherever he wants to go." that was how the meaning of mobilization really came home to frank, who learned more from the things he missed that he was accustomed to seeing than from new sights. in the boulevards, for instance, where as a rule the little tables in front of the cafes would be crowded, all the tables had vanished. that was a result of what was happening. everything brought the fact of war home to him. to him it was even more vivid perhaps than to henri, who had been brought up to know that some time all this would come about, and saw little that he had not been sure, some time, of seeing. the crowds delayed them. sometimes they had to dismount from their wheels and walk for a space, but in the end they came to their destination. madame martin, henri's aunt, greeted him with delight. "we were thinking of you, henri!" she said. "your uncle said to me only to-night, when we heard of the mobilization: 'and what of henri? he cannot go home yet.' i knew you would come to us! and you have brought a friend? that is very well." "oh--an american!" she exclaimed, a moment later. "you have done well, my nephew." "i'm half french," said frank. somehow he was beginning to feel very proud of that. these last few hours, that had shown him how france rallied in the face of a terrible and pressing danger had made it easier for him to understand his mother's love of her own land. he was still an american above all; that he would always be. but there was french blood in his veins after all, and blood is something that is and always must be thicker than water. so he had to explain himself, and when he spoke of the uncle who was to come for him madame martin looked concerned. "i am glad that you are here," she said, simply. "it may be hard for him to get here. but we can look after you until he comes. there is room enough--and, ma foi, you shall have all that we have!" chapter iv the recruits august was drawing to its close. and still henri and frank were in paris. henri's father and his uncle had gone to the front; frank's uncle dick, if he had tried to reach paris or st. denis, had not succeeded. or if he had, he had been unable to get word to frank. war in all its terrible reality was in full blast. troops were passing through paris still, going to the front. but they were older men now, the last classes of the reservists. every night, too, the city was dark save for the searchlights that played incessantly from the high buildings and from the eiffel tower. for now there was a new menace. the germans fought not on land alone, but in the air. at any time a german might appear, thousands of feet above the city, prepared to rain down death and destruction from the clouds. paris was quiet and resigned. wounded men were coming back; hospitals, from which floated the red cross flag, were everywhere. the hotels were sheltering the wounded; churches, theatres, all sorts of buildings not commonly so used were in the hands of the doctors and the nurses. there were few newspapers; there was neither paper on which to print them, nor men to run the great presses or write what they usually contained. all were gone; all except the old and the children. hundreds of thousands of men were still in paris, but they were the garrison of the city, the men who would man the forts if the germans came. and now, to get the news, harry and frank went to the places where the bulletins were posted, becoming a part of the silent crowds that waited. every day they took their places in the crowds, to learn what they could and carry the tale back to madame martin. she was too busy to stand among the crowds herself; every day she was doing her part, helping in the nursing, and helping, too, to relieve the distress among the poor. one day the two friends turned away. they had seen the last bulletin; for some hours there would be no more news. "i'm afraid it's not going well, harry," said frank. "no," said henri, almost with a sob in his voice. "it looks to me, too, as if the germans were winning!" "but many thought they would win, at first," said frank. "it's not time to be discouraged yet, harry. at first we all believed the belgians were doing better than they could do--because they fought so well at liege. now namur has fallen. and the english--they are falling back." "ah, well, that is so," said henri, brightening a little. "we did not expect to fight in belgium, we french. wait till they try to enter france! we will stop them--at lille, at maubeuge, at valenciennes!" "i hope so, harry," said frank, soberly. "but do you know what i think? i believe we ought to go to your home at amiens. i think you have been waiting here on my account--because you thought my uncle was coming. well, i think he couldn't come. i am better off with you. and perhaps i can help, too. i think you should go to your mother, if she is alone at amiens, because--" henri turned on him fiercely. "do you mean you think the germans can get to amiens?" he cried furiously. "never! never! they will never come so far! they will be stopped long before they get near it!" "i think so--and i hope so," said frank. "but if my mother were there i should want to be there, too. i've read a great deal about war and battles lately, harry, and i know that often an army has to retreat, not just because it's beaten, but because it's necessary for battles that are planned later on. the english and the french toward the coast are retreating now--on the left of the allies. they are moving back toward amiens, and the germans are following them." henri continued to argue bitterly against the possibility that frank suggested, but his arguments grew weaker. and when he told his aunt what frank had said she sighed despairingly. "i, too, have been thinking that," she said. "these are terrible times for our poor france. we shall win--everyone believes that. but we shall suffer greatly first. i have talked with general broche--you know him, henri. he is too old and weak to fight now, but he was active in . and he says--he says that the government may move soon, away from paris!" "then they think--!" cried henri, almost overcome. "they do not know--no one knows. but if there is to be another siege, it is better that the government should be where the germans cannot bottle it up. i shall stay here, but i shall be safe. there are plenty to do what i need. go to amiens, henri. your place is near your mother. if there seems to be danger, beg her to come here, or even to go to her friends, the douays, in nice. there at least all will be safe." henri did not argue with his aunt. it was hard for him to realize the truth, as it was for frenchmen older than himself. but he admitted it to frank and even to himself, that night. and so the next morning they started for amiens. an officer, returning to the front after bringing despatches to paris, agreed to see that they reached the northern city safely. without him, indeed, they would have found it difficult, if not impossible, to get aboard a train, for while other railways were open those that led to the front were entirely in the hands of the military authorities. but thanks to the friendly officer, a friend of the martin family in paris, they reached amiens quickly enough. on the way, more than once they passed long trains carrying wounded, and, several times, other trains on which were packed german prisoners. these, under close guard, looked out sullenly from the windows. the sight delighted henri. "that doesn't look much as if we were losing, does it?" he cried happily. amiens itself was a smaller paris. in times of peace, amiens is, like many other french cities, a curious place, owing to the contrast between its character as a busy, bustling, manufacturing town, and its other character as a place where there are many renowned examples of ancient art. but now it was quiet save for the ever present soldier. troops were passing through the streets; in the station several hundred were entraining. "do soldiers go from here, too?" asked frank. "yes. amiens is the headquarters of the second army corps," explained harry. "all the reservists of that corps report here, no matter where they live. when a regiment loses a lot of men, if it is in the second corps, new men from here go forward to fill their places. there is no sign of the prussians, eh?" "no," said frank. "i hope there never will be! but, tell me, would they fight here? are there fortifications?" "not new ones--no," said harry. he pointed to the old citadel crowning one of the hills that commanded the town and the crooked, twisting course of the somme river. "there is the old citadel. that still stands. but the ancient battlements have been dismantled. i believe that in time of war, if the enemy got past the troops in the field, they could come peacefully into amiens. it is not a fortress, like lille or maubeuge. oh, look, there are some of the scouts! i see monsieur marron. he is the directeur of the troop--the scoutmaster. let us speak to him." they went over to a tall man in khaki, who was speaking to an officer in the red and blue uniform of the french army. henri saluted, and when the officer went away, the scoutmaster turned to him with a smile. "well--so you are here, martin," he said. "are you going to join? we will waive formalities--we need all the scouts we can get." "yes, sir, and i have brought a recruit. he is half french--the rest of him is american. but he wants to join, too. may he?" "certainly," said the scoutmaster. "report to-night or in the morning. get your uniforms. who is your recruit?" frank was introduced, and the tall frenchman shook hands with him. "you will be welcome," he said. "my boys are at work, you see. they are serving as messengers. there has been plenty for us to do in these days, too. pray god there may not be more--and of a less pleasant sort." frank observed the french scouts with interest. they were in khaki uniforms, with wool stockings, and short trousers that stopped just above the knee, and the soft campaign hats made famous by the pioneer scouts in england. indeed, they looked like the english and american scouts in many respects. "one moment," said marron, checked by a sudden thought. "you speak french well?" he asked the question of frank, who smiled. "yes, sir," he said, in french. "my mother was french, you see." "that is very good," said the scoutmaster. "never fear, i shall be able to keep you busy as long as i am here. soon, i hope, they will let me go to the front, where i should be right now." "i thought you would have gone, sir," said henri. "they wanted me to stay with my boys at the first," said marron, with a shrug of his shoulders. "but they can do their work alone now, and there is no fear that they will not do it well." then frank and henri went off, on their way to henri's house. "so we have come to amiens after all and we are to join the boy scouts, just as we planned that day when i said there would be no war this year!" "yes--but it's different, isn't it, henri?" "yes, and we can be of some real use now." "i am glad that we are here, aren't you? when we get our uniforms and go to work, i shall feel that we are really being used in the war. i--i'm an american, of course, but i've hated the idea that i was so close to this war and wasn't having anything to do with it." "and i--i have been wishing, frank, that they might have waited until i was old enough to fight for france!" chapter v the first duty morning brought awakening to the two friends with the sounding of reveille from bugles, seemingly just outside their window. together they sprang from bed, raced to the window, wide open as it had been all night, and looked out. not far away, in a small park, one of those for which the city of amiens is famous, they saw an array of white tents that they had not seen the night before when they had gone to bed. already the camp was stirring; even as they watched the soldiers were all about. and early as it was, they saw a scout ride up on a bicycle, speak to the sentry who challenged him, and wait. in a moment an officer came out, the scout saluted, and his salute was returned as stiffly and gravely as it had been given. then the scout handed the officer a letter, saluted again and, receiving permission, turned away and vaulted on his wheel. henri was vastly excited. "come on!" he cried eagerly. "let's get dressed, frank. i see that we should be out already." "yes. it's time we were getting busy if the others are at work," said frank. "where do you suppose those chaps came from?" "i don't know--that's exactly what's puzzling me," said henri, his brow knitted. "they don't look like reserve troops. i don't know exactly why, either, but we can soon find out." they bathed and dressed hurriedly, and went down to find that marie, the cook who had been with the martin family ever since henri could remember, was ready to give them their breakfast. in a time when many families for reasons of economy were allowing their servants to go, henri's mother had kept all of hers. "now, more than ever," she said, "they need the work and the wages. it is a time for those who can possibly afford it to engage more servants, rather than to discharge those they have already in their employ and service." madame martin, who, like henri's aunt in paris, was busy all day long in helping the wounded, doing voluntary duty in the red cross hospital to which she had been assigned, was not yet up. she had greeted the two boys on their arrival the previous evening, but had left the house immediately after dinner, since it was her turn to do some night work. "she is wearing herself out," complained old marie. "a fine lady like her dressing the wounds of piou-pious, indeed!" frank laughed. he knew by this time what piou-piou meant. it is the endearing term of the french for the little red-trousered soldiers who form the armies of the republic, just as the english call a soldier tommy atkins. "it is for france," said henri, gravely. "i shall perhaps be a piou-piou myself before so very long, marie." "you will be an officer, will you not?" exclaimed marie. "it may be. i do not know," said henri. "but the best and the greatest men in france, those who govern us and write books and plays, and paint pictures, and make fine statues, are in the ranks to-day. it is a privilege even for my mother to nurse them." "all very well--but i won't have her getting all tired out," grumbled marie. "your father told me himself, when he went off, to look after her. and i'm going to do it." "where did the soldiers who are in the park come from?" asked henri, changing the subject. "who knows? they come, they stay a few hours or a day, then they go, and others take their places! more soldiers have been in amiens than i knew were in the world! we had some english--strange, mad men, who wore dresses to their knees and had music that sounded like a dozen cats fighting at night on a back yard fence." both the boys laughed at this description of the kilted highlanders with their bagpipes, but they exchanged meaning glances. paris did not know where the english troops were; barely knew that some had crossed the channel, and had landed in france. how many had come no one knew except those who would not tell. all that was announced was that england had sent help to her ally, and that english troops were again, as on so many occasions in the past, on french soil. but this time they came as friends, not as the enemies that marlborough and wellington had led. "well, we'll soon know, even if she can't tell us," said henri. and as soon as they had had their breakfast, they slipped around to the kitchen. henri and frank both laughed, for they surprised half a dozen blushing, awkward infantrymen, who were receiving hot coffee and rolls--fare of a different sort from that afforded by the camp kitchens. "welcome, welcome!" said henri. "my father is with his regiment, or he would speak, so i speak for him. of what regiment are you, my friends?" one of them mentioned its number, and henri exclaimed in his surprise. "but you are of the nancy corps--the twentieth!" he cried. "you were fighting in lorraine! were you not among those who captured mulhouse?" "yes." the soldier's face grew dark. "ah, you are right! of a truth we captured mulhouse! how the uhlans ran! we beat them there, and we were chasing them. ah, the delight of that! there we were, in alsace! the lost province! for the first time in forty-four years it saw french uniforms. for the first time since it was free from the germans. the people sang and cheered as we went into the villages. they brought us food. the young women spread flowers before us. and then--we came back. we were not beaten! we had orders to recross the border. and we were put on trains and brought here. the shame of it!" "but you came?" "soldiers must obey! but even our officers, i can tell you, did not like it!" "sometimes an army must retreat to fight better somewhere else," said henri in defense. "but here? at amiens? there are no prussians here!" "perhaps they are not so far away. one hears--they were in brussels a week ago--they are pouring toward the border--perhaps they have passed it. it may be that there is a battle to be fought here in france." "oh, well, if there is a battle to be fought, that is different again. that is what we want. in alsace there were no battles. they ran as soon as they saw our uniforms--the pigs of prussians!" "good luck to you, then! may you beat a thousand of them!" "we shall! never fear! i will bring you a pretzel from berlin when we come back in exchange for your good rolls!" laughing again, frank and henri went out. "that fellow is like the french soldiers i've read about," said frank, much interested. "yes. he is the sort who fights well, but does not think. but, frank, i begin to think you were right. if they give up the fight in alsace to re-enforce the army here, the germans must be winning." "perhaps not. it may be only for the time." "yet it looks serious. listen! can you hear the sound of guns?" henri said that as a jest. but frank listened--he took him seriously. "not yet," he said. "nor ever shall--from here!" exclaimed henri. "i did not mean that! they will be held on the border." yet, even as he spoke, though he did not know it, the germans, victors at the great battle of mons-charleroi, were driving the left wing of the allied army remorselessly, steadily back through the fertile fields of champagne, where bullets were tearing the laden grapevines to pieces. the uhlans were riding along the coast. forced back by the defeat of the left, the centre was yielding. it was well that they did not know then what was in store; that they could not foresee the coming days when the germans seemed to be the sure victors. as they talked, frank and henri were making their way to the place where m. marron, the scoutmaster, had told them to report. he was there, listening to reports and giving orders when they arrived. they had provided themselves the night before with uniforms, and now they were true scouts in appearance save that they did not wear the badge. they waited until he was ready to speak to them. "you know the scout law?" he asked them, briefly. together they recited it. "in war," he said, "rules may be forgotten. there are other tests, but these i shall not impose. recite after me the scout oath. it binds you to be faithful, to be honorable. you are to obey the ten points of the scout law. and now that war has come, you are to obey all orders from officers of the army as you would those of your scoutmaster. if i go--and that may be to-day--you will obey the leader of the third patrol, to which you are assigned, as you would me. if things so come about that you can get orders from no one you will still do all you can for france." then he repeated in french the scout oath, and they said it after him. "now you are scouts," said marron. he pinned badges on their sleeves. "wear this always. remember that it typifies your honor." he raised three fingers in the scout salute; they returned it. "that is well," he said, then. "now for your first duty, you will accompany other scouts, to see how they perform their work. when you have done that for a little while, you may be trusted with independent commissions." all morning, first with other scouts, and then alone, they did errands of one sort and another. after a brief rest for a hurried noonday meal, m. marron gave them new orders. "here is a list of houses," he said. "soon a train will arrive with refugees from districts where the germans are. you will take these refugees around with you, in parties of twenty-five, with two scouts to a party, until all are cared for. the owners of the houses on your list have agreed to give these poor people food and shelter until they can safely return to their homes. treat them kindly and chivalrously. remember that though they may not have fought, they have suffered for the fatherland! you understand?" they saluted, and were off. chapter vi to the front there was real news to be gleaned from these unfortunates who came into the station at amiens soon after the boys took their places there with some of the other scouts of the troop. women, children and old men--not a young man was among them, of course--they poured from the freight cars that in the main they occupied. and they were willing to talk; more than willing, indeed. they told of how the germans had come. first the uhlans riding through, stern and silent, willing to leave the inhabitants alone, as a rule, if they themselves were let alone. then the infantry, rolling along in great grey masses. and with them came the spoiling of the countryside. "they took everything--food, wine, everything our army had not had," said one woman to frank and henri, as she walked through the streets with them. frank was carrying her baby for her. "they left us with nothing! and then they burned all the houses in my street because, they said, there must be clear space for their guns to fire!" it was a simple matter to distribute these poor refugees. the town of amiens had troubles of its own but it forgot them now, and set itself doggedly to work the relief of the far more acute distress of those from the countryside to the north and east. always the stories of those who had fled before the german hosts were the same. "the germans haven't got an army!" cried henri, bitterly. "it's a war machine they send against us! they do not fight like men, but like railroad trains!" they were learning more in this task of escorting the refugees than all the bulletins had been able to tell them. no censors could close the mouths of these poor people, and they were not only willing to talk--they craved listeners. "it makes it easier to bear what we have suffered when we know that others know what the germans have done," said the woman with the baby. "we women--we gave our husbands, and those who had sons gave their sons. now we have given all to france. let the men win back enough for us to live--that is all that we ask." they did not know the meaning of the military movements they had seen. indeed, they had not seen military movements in the strict sense of the word. all they knew was that soldiers, first in one uniform, then in another, had passed through their villages, first going north and east, then south and west. they had heard firing, dim and in the distance at first, but coming always nearer. then the tide of battle had rolled by. that was all they knew. but to boys who from the beginning of the war had followed every move on the great chessboard of the struggle, these things meant knowledge for which the editors of newspapers would have given fortunes. in paris they had had a great map, and every day they had shifted the tiny flags that showed where the troops were. they had flags for each of the allies and for the austrians and germans at first. later they had become more particular. they had worked out as well as they could the different armies, even to the army corps, and had marked their flags accordingly. and so this exact knowledge of where troops of particular commands had been, made it possible for them, when there was time for them to go home, to make changes in the positions of the little flags that dotted their map. when they had finished doing that they looked at one another. "the french and the english are retreating," said henri, soberly. "you were right, frank. they fought on the line of mons to charleroi in belgium, and then they began running away." "not exactly that, either," said frank. "look here--look at the map, henri. there is paris. there is a great army there under general gallieni. there are enormous fortifications. that is the great base. there is this line with three fortresses--rheims, la fere, laon, with other forts between them. that backed the centre when the french army retired from the border. but there is another army on the left of that line--because, if the germans get around the left, behind that line of fortresses, they could be surrounded." "but they could be defended--" "yes, as bazaine defended metz--until he was starved out," said frank. he was beginning to be excited. "i think i see what may happen, harry. the german right is moving out, always--far out, toward the sea. it wants to get around our left, and cut it off. if it gets between our left and paris, there will be a disaster--another sedan, perhaps. that is why there is a retreat. it is necessary. we are not ready to fight yet. but wait!" "wait! wait? is that the thing for french soldiers to do? that is not how napoleon won his battles! he struck--and he struck first!" "never until he was sure of victory." "but if they keep on retreating, they will be south of here! the germans can take amiens, if they like!" exclaimed harry in much alarm. "what of it? it will be sad for amiens, but it will do the germans no good. amiens has no strategic value. less than rheims or laon--and we know now that the germans have them both, though that has not been in the bulletins." "then why are troops going south? the troops from here?" "we don't know where they are going, henri. they start south but perhaps they turn, and go to re-enforce the centre. don't you suppose our generals have their plans, too? you spoke of napoleon. don't you remember the march to moscow? how the russians retreated, always, and drew him on? and what happened then, when they were ready to fight?" frank had awakened a memory terrible for any frenchman. but there was no more time for argument. the telephone rang out sharply and henri went to answer it. m. marron was on the wire. when henri returned his eyes were shining. "we are wanted. perhaps it is for real work," he said, happily. "he wanted to know if we could both speak english--if i could, that is. none of the other scouts can do that, he says, and so we are to report at once. oh, i wonder what can be wanted?" "well, the best way to find out is to go and see," said frank, practically. m. marron was ready for them when they reached him. he was no longer in his khaki scoutmaster's garb, but in his uniform of captain of the line. "you are to report to colonel menier," he said, briefly. "i do not know what service is required of you. i can only say to you, do your best. my orders have come. i join my regiment to-day. from this moment the troop of boy scouts of amiens has no organization, until such time as it can be restored. each scout must act for himself, taking his orders whenever it is possible from officers of the army. when he has no such orders he must use his own best judgment. before you report to colonel menier you are to wait here--i intend to address all the scouts of the troop." they had not long to wait before the other scouts arrived. at the sight of the scoutmaster in his uniform they cheered him heartily. "scouts!" he said, speaking in french, when all were there. "i leave you now, for the fatherland has called me to its service in ways different from those to which i have been assigned so far. i leave you free to your own devices. but you are free only in name. you are bound by your scout oath, by your scout law. you are bound by those principles of honor which the scouts teach and enforce. never forget them! "while you are still boys, before it is time for france to call you to the army, the enemy thunders at our gates. in our millions we have risen to repel them, to drive the iron heel of the invader from france, france the beautiful, the loved of all! it is for you, as for all who are worthy of the name of frenchmen, to help in that great work, to make sacrifices, to do your part. "but your part gives you no right to fight. you are to bear no arms. that does not mean you have no service to render to your native land; that france does not ask anything of you. she asks much; she expects much from the boy scouts. "it may be you can do most by quietly filling the place made vacant in your home--made vacant by father or older brother gone to serve in the ranks. it may be your privilege to aid in caring for the wounded as they come back to their homes from the scene of conflict. it may be you will find a place to help on the battlefields. but wherever you are, whatever you do, remember that scouts are ever faithful, ever loyal, ever true to the trust reposed in them. "it is cowardly to shirk a duty. perform your part in the struggle as becomes true scouts--as becomes men who have been born and reared in our fair france. "mark my word well. so, if i am spared to return to you, after the war, i shall meet all of you again, and i shall be able to grasp the hand of each one of you, and say: 'well done! you have deserved well, you of france and of the boy scouts francais!'" his sword flashed from his scabbard, and he held it stiffly to the salute. then sheathing it, he turned and stamped from the room. he went with a high head and a happy heart to the service of the land he loved--as millions of frenchmen had gone or would go. there was silence when he had gone. quietly the scouts melted away to the tasks they had in hand. the words of their departing leader had made a great impression on them. nor had his reminder of what they should and should not do against the germans been unnecessary. "i suppose he must be right," said henri, a little wistfully. "i shall obey. but i had hoped that i might have a shot at a few germans! frank, i have practiced so often with my rifle! i have killed hawks and rabbits--" "let's find colonel menier," said frank. "we can hurt the germans far more, i expect, by obeying orders than by killing a few. it is not the killing of a few men that will settle this war, henri! war is bad--war is terrible. let us not make it worse." then they went to the barracks, inquiring, as they had been told to do, for colonel menier. soon they were brought to him, a busy, tired looking officer of the staff. he eyed them keenly. chapter vii the glory of war one glance at henri seemed to satisfy him. the french boy, so typical of his race, he was ready to take for granted. he asked just one question. "you speak english well? you can understand thoroughly?" "yes, my colonel," answered henri. then the officer turned to frank. "you are english--one of our allies?" he asked. "no, sir." and frank had to explain, for the hundredth time since the war began, as it seemed to him, his nationality and his mixed blood. he threw up his head a little proudly now as he told of his french mother. "that is well enough," said the colonel. "you are neutral--in america. but i think--ah, yes, i believe that you americans remember lafayette and the help you had from frenchmen once." "i am ready to do what i can for france, colonel," said frank, simply. "that is all i can say." "or i, or any of us," said colonel menier. "listen well, then. i shall tell you things that no one else is to know. you, martin, know the country here? you can find your way about?" "yes, my colonel." "i want you to take certain messages for me to the english headquarters. where it is to-day, i know. it is here--see, on the map?" they looked at the spot he indicated, and concealed their surprise. they had supposed the english much nearer the border. "where it may be to-morrow i cannot tell. but it is of the greatest importance that the papers i give you be delivered at headquarters. it is so important that we will not trust them to the telephone, to the telegraph, to the field wireless. they are reports of the most confidential nature, having to do with movements that will be of great importance a few days from mow. you will not wear your uniforms of boy scouts for the work in hand." neither of them said anything. "that, you will understand, is because the uniforms would make you more than ever conspicuous to the germans. i do not think you will be anywhere near the uhlans. but in war one must not think; or, if one does, one must think of all things that may happen. so you will wear your ordinary clothes. you have one day, two days, three, if necessary, to find the british headquarters. no more. these papers are written on the thinnest of paper. it is so thin that the messages are contained in these marbles that i give you--one to each of you." they took the marbles and still they made no comment. "if you are captured and searched, i believe you will have very little to fear. it is not likely that a german officer, no matter how zealous he may be, will be over-suspicious of a lot of marbles in a boy's pocket. you will have a pocket full of them, and they will all look alike. and if the germans find you are only boys moved by the curiosity of boys to see battlefields, they will not hurt you. i do not believe they will even hold you. probably they will not even take your marbles away from you, thinking them harmless playthings, never once dreaming of their secret. only the officer at our headquarters who knows of your coming will be able to distinguish one marble from another. how he will do so, it is better that you should not know." "someone then will know that we are coming, my colonel?" said henri, a smile brightening his face. "evidently. when you reach the british lines, you will be challenged, probably arrested and detained. say to the soldier that he is to give a word to his officer--mezieres. that will insure your being taken to headquarters. everywhere, all through the field, the giving of that word will mean that he who gives it is to be taken at once to the nearest staff officer." "mezieres. we will remember, my colonel," said henri. "we will change into our ordinary clothes and start at once. on our return we report to you here?" colonel menier smiled sadly. "when you return there will be no french troops in amiens, i fear," he said. "indeed, i know it. the time to stop and turn to fight is not yet. we shall not play into the hands of the germans by fighting on their chosen ground. we shall wait until we are ready. this is not when armies were thrown away rather than retreat to ground where the chances of victory were even, at the worst. remember that, if you think the retreat is shameful. if, in , the army of chalons had retreated upon paris, instead of marching to the trap at sedan, french history might well be different." "then amiens is to be evacuated, my colonel?" "it is the order. when you have done your errand, return here or do whatever the british staff may require of you. it will not be for long that amiens shall be deserted. we shall return. but whether i shall be here then, i do not know. farewell! obey the orders i have given you, and you will deserve well of france." they saluted then and went to make their preparations for the start. "harry," said frank, "if the germans are coming to amiens, your mother must go. she should be where she will be safe." "you are right, frank. we will try to persuade her to go. but will she leave her task with the wounded?" "she can take it up elsewhere." but though they had expected to have difficulty in persuading her, they found that madame martin was already making plans to go. "the wounded are to be taken to tours in great numbers," she told them. "they will need nurses there, and i shall go. henri, will you and francois come with me?" "we cannot," said henri. "there is work for us to do. you would want me to do my share?" "of course i do!" she said, her eyes filling with tears. "and so speaks every mother in france to-day! stay, then, and serve your land in whatever way you can, for france needs even the boys now. remember, henri, that somewhere your mother is serving too, and she expects her son to do his whole duty. more, she _knows_ he will do it." and her face glowed with pride in her son as she clasped his hand in her own. "i will remember," said henri. then they went to their room, laid away their newly acquired uniforms of boy scouts, and, keeping not even their new badges of which they had been so proud, especially henri, dressed in their ordinary clothes. "let's start on bicycles, anyhow," proposed frank. "we may not be able to stick to them, but we can save a lot of time on our way to le cateau. that's where we shall go first, isn't it?" "yes. we had better start for there. you're right about the bicycles, too. even if we lose them, that does not matter so much," said harry. "and, harry, we've got to pretend to be pretty stupid, if we are caught. you mustn't act as if you knew too much. don't let the germans see how you really feel about them. pretend to be terribly frightened, even if you're not," instructed frank. "all right. i see what you mean. come on, then. let's be off!" already, as they rode through the streets of amiens, the signs of what was to come were multiplying. troops were marching out of the town, but they were going south, away from the battle line, it seemed. and the townspeople were not slow in taking the hint. they were gathering such things as they could carry with them, and all those with anything of real value, and with a place to take it, were preparing to get away before the coming of the germans. the refugees from belgium had told them lurid tales of the german treatment of captured places; they had no mind to share the fate of their unhappy neighbors in the plucky little country to the north. and so the exodus was beginning. henri was very much depressed. "and this is war!" he said, sadly. "so far, except for the wounded, we have seen only the suffering of women and children. where is the glory of war of which history tells? i want to see some fighting! i want to know that we are really resisting the invaders of the fatherland." "you'll know it soon enough," said frank, with a smile. "you are too impatient, harry. and you must remember this. while all this is going on, russia is advancing too. the austrians have been well beaten all along their front already. soon it will be the turn of the germans to meet russia. they cannot long devote all their energy to france and the british." "that is so, frank. but the russians won't fight here." "perhaps not. but it will be the same. for every army corps that russia sends into prussia means that germany can spare so many troops less for the war on this side. harry, do you know what i think? i think germany is beaten already!" "how can you say that, frank? we know now that they have pushed us back everywhere--that they are all over belgium, and are marching on paris, just as they did the last time--" "no, not just as they did the last time, harry. for then they marched on paris with the field armies of france beaten--one of them captured, the other locked up in metz. now the armies of france are still in the field. and i say that germany is beaten because her one chance in this war was to destroy france as she did in --quickly. if she had done that, she might have been able to turn back, away from france, and meet russia with her full strength." "oh, i see what you mean. but i'll feel better when we turn and fight, instead of running away from them." "so will i and everyone else, harry. but the great thing for our side now is to win delay. every day is as important as a battle. russia moves slowly, but when she is fully in the field she will have as great an army ready as france and germany together." "well, i hope you are right. ah, now we are out of the town. we can go a little faster. en avant!" in the fields women and young boys were working hard, getting in the harvest that the men had abandoned. never had a countryside looked more peaceful, except that at every bridge they passed now was a sentry, usually a man of the reserve, held back from the front for this sort of duty, while the younger men were at the front to do the actual fighting. for a long time they were not challenged. the sentries looked at them idly, but decided that they were not at all likely to be prussian spies, and let them pass. but when they came to the railroad line leading from amiens to arras, which they had to cross, it was different. their crossing was at a culvert, where the road passed under the tracks. here there was not one sentry, but a post, under the command of a one-legged veteran. to him they were forced to make explanations, which he received gravely, studying frank with particular attention. "so you carry despatches," he said. "you have a word, a countersign, perhaps?" "mezieres," said henri, promptly. "very well. pass, then, but keep an eye open. there were uhlans here before daybreak." "here?" "they are beginning to show now. we hear they were in arras yesterday. some stayed with us. they sought to blow up the culvert here." then they went on. and just after they had passed the post, they saw what the crippled veteran had meant when he had said that some of the uhlans had stayed. they lay beside the road, in their greenish gray uniforms. they were the first german soldiers either of the boys had seen. and, in the field, two old peasants were digging a grave. chapter viii the hands of a clock the sight was a sobering one. there had been only half a dozen of the uhlans, and they knew from what they had heard and read that thousands, scores of thousands probably, had already died in the war. but they hadn't seen the others, and these men had lain by the roadside within a few feet of them. for a time neither of the two scouts had much to say. "there's some real war for you, henri," frank said, finally. "don't!" said the french scout with a shudder. "it must be, but it is terrible. and only a few hours ago, i suppose, they were riding along as well as you and i!" then for a mile or more they rode along in silence. they made good time for the roads were level. there were no interruptions to their progress now. in the fields, as before, they could see the women and a few old men about the work of the harvest, but in spite of that, there was an air of desolation. everything seemed to have stopped. and there was a curious something that made itself felt. for a long time, though each of them felt this, they made no comment on it. finally frank called a halt. "listen, harry," he said. "there's something curious. it's a noise, and yet it isn't, exactly. it sounds a little like thunder or like the surf when you are quite a little way inland--" they stopped together, listening. "i know!" said henri, suddenly. "it's the guns we hear. the wind is changing and that is why it is coming to us now. there is a battle. in olden days we could see its smoke but now they fight without making smoke. and the noise, too, seems to come from the direction in which we are going." once he had named the cause, there was no mystery about the sound. it was less a sound, however, than a beating of the air. there were no sharp reports; it was a steady, ceaseless murmur. but even so, there was no mistaking it. for the first time they were within hearing distance of a battle. "we will soon be on our way to berlin, now," said henri. "that must mean that we have turned--that the great battle has begun." "it needn't mean that," said frank. "it may be only artillery covering a rear guard action. i wish you'd remember, harry, that a retreat may mean mighty hard fighting. not a rout--a retreat. it isn't easy for an army to move backward. but it's been done by a good many armies that won later." "well, come on! we're not getting any nearer to the english by stopping here to talk." "no. we'll be off again. that noise is getting nearer, harry. or louder, anyhow. perhaps that only means that more guns are going into action." somehow the nearness of the battle stimulated them. they found themselves making better time, though they had certainly seemed to be riding as fast as they could before. and all the time the sound of the cannon in front of them grew louder, and the quality of the noise gradually changed. soon loud explosions began to be distinguishable amid the general hum of battle, and, too, there was an overtone,--a sharper, less steady noise. "rifle fire, i think, too," said frank. "it's lighter than the sound of the cannon, but it seems to be just about as steady. and to think that that's going on, all the way from here to the swiss border nearly! they're fighting here and near verdun, and in the vosges mountains." "look over there," said henri, suddenly. "do you see? that looks like an omnibus!" "it is--one of the sort they use in london!" said frank, in surprise. the great, unwieldy vehicle came lumbering toward them. it rolled along the road, raising a tremendous cloud of dust, and they could see that behind it were many more. just behind it, too, a man on a motorcycle came suddenly into view. he was mounted on a high-powered machine, and they could hear the roar of his motor as he came up to them. "halte!" he cried, in a broken french. "arretez vous!" they were off their machines in a moment, saluting, as he stopped his motor and put one foot on the ground to steady his machine. he was dressed in khaki, and both of them recognized his uniform as that of the british forces. "we speak english," said frank. "the deuce you do! that's good! well, tell me how to get to guise. we've lost our blooming way, that's what we've done! and we've got supplies for the troops." "you're going the wrong way--straight to amiens," said henri. "the road to guise is back four miles, at least. can you turn your 'buses here? we will guide you. we are going that way." "you are, are you?" said the english officer. he laughed, curtly. "i doubt that, young fellow! i do, indeed! however, you can come along with us as far as that. then i'll wash my hands of you. but i can tell you that if you go on much further, you'll get into some fighting that isn't meant for boys!" they made no reply, for as they understood their errand, they were not supposed to tell every officer they met what they were doing, but were to answer questions only when it was plain that not to do so meant that they would be prevented from reaching their destination. it was not the easiest of tasks to manage the reversing of the supply train of omnibuses, but the officer in charge was efficient, and it was managed. when the convoy had turned around, he rode up beside the boys. "seen any signs of germans?" he asked. "only at a culvert a few miles back," said frank. he described the fight there as best he could, and the officer looked a little worried. "as far as that, eh?" he said. "we hadn't heard of their being in that quarter at all. h'm!" then he rode on ahead, to what had, until a few moments before, been the rear of his train. "he's doing well enough, now that he knows his way," said frank in an undertone to henri. "but i think he was in a bad way. i've got an idea that the germans are behind us. do you know what i think? it's funny for a supply train like this to be here without any escort of troops, isn't it?" "yes. i thought of that, too." "well, i believe he was supposed to meet a guard, and missed it. suppose he'd run into the germans?" "yes, that would have been a nice mess! i suppose some english soldiers would have gone hungry to-night!" the road was rising a little, enough for them to feel the added pull in propelling their wheels. and now, at the crest of the little rise, they saw that the officer had dismounted. he had unstrapped a box from his machine and was setting it up. in a few minutes, as they reached him, he had set up a tripod-like machine, not unlike a surveyor's instrument, and was flashing a small mirror. "hello!" he said. "field heliograph kit. ever see it before?" "no, sir, but i know about it," said frank, while henri looked on admiringly. "i know the morse code, too." "do you? good! then watch those answering flashes. check off the message for me." harry obeyed, having spotted in that moment the answer of a similar instrument on a hill perhaps five miles away. he read off the morse signs carefully, and the officer nodded. "and that's all right," he said, with a sigh of relief. "they'll have an escort here for us as quickly as it can ride over. i suppose you know i signalled for that?" "yes, sir." the officer was plainly puzzled by frank and henri. he could not quite understand what they were doing in what was decidedly disputed ground. but he had not the instinct that would have prompted a french, and more especially, a german officer, to question them and, if he was not fully satisfied, to put them under restraint. "all right. we'll be getting on," he said. "ride along, now. i'm going back. don't get out of touch. and if i'm not around when we get to the road where we are to turn off for guise, stop them. they know you're guiding us." he went off, with a great sputtering of his engine, and frank and harry rode along quietly. but frank felt a strange uneasiness. "i feel as if there was something wrong around here," he said. "what do you mean, frank? everything's quiet now. even the firing is not as heavy as it was." "i know, but just the same, that's how i feel. as if there was something in the air. what's this--a village we're coming to?" "yes, and the crossroads where the 'buses must turn, for guise is just beyond here, too." "doesn't look much like war, does it?" said frank. "look at that church. i suppose it's been there for centuries. but the clock looks new, doesn't it?" "yes, and it's stopped, too," said henri, with a laugh. "i suppose they are so excited about the war that they've forgotten to wind it properly." "the time of day doesn't matter much just now," said frank. "i think--" he stopped short, staring as if fascinated at the clock. then with a cry to henri to wait for him, he turned and pedalled furiously back in the direction the officer had taken. "who is the commander?" he called to the soldier driver of one of the 'buses. "capting 'ardy," replied the man. "thanks," frank called, and went on as fast as he could. he met captain hardy coming toward him. swiftly he told him what he had seen, and hardy, tugging at his revolver, sped on. frank followed but was left far behind, naturally, by the speed of the motorcycle. when he reached the church he looked up at the clock again. captain hardy's motorcycle was lying in the street, and henri was staring at the church door greatly puzzled. "what is the matter?" cried henri. "the officer came back, jumped off his machine and tore into the church as if his life depended on it. he was pulling out his pistol, too. what--" the sharp bark of a revolver interrupted him. it spoke three times and there was a cry from above. they looked up, to see the figure of a man dropping from the opening of the clock. a moment later captain hardy came down, reloading his revolver. "good work, youngster!" he said. "your eyes were sharp that time! if you hadn't seen the hands of that clock moving we might have been caught in a nice trap! wait here--i'm going to make a barricade of the omnibuses." "what does he mean?" cried henri, almost frantic with curiosity. "why, i saw that the hands of the clock had moved! you said it had stopped, and i looked up. then the next time i looked, the hands had moved around--two or three hours!" "but how--and why--if the clock had stopped?" "that's just it! that clock must be visible for some distance around, harry. suppose a german was there? he could be signalling, couldn't he?" "oh, a spy! i never thought of that! you mean he would tell other germans to come here--that there was work for them to do?" "yes. i only hope captain hardy stopped him in time." but hardy was taking no more chances than he could help. he had guessed as quickly as frank the probable reason for the strange antics of the clock's face. and now he made his dispositions quickly. counting the armed drivers of each omnibus, and the extra man each carried, he had less than thirty men. but he drew up several of the omnibuses in a square formation in the central square of the village, and thus had an improvised fort. when he had done that he called sharply to the two boys. "get along with you--get away from here!" he said. "if we're going to have a fight it's no place for you. you've done us a mighty good turn--i don't want you running into danger because of it." even as he spoke a shot rang out. it was from the direction in which they had come! "just in time, too," he said, coolly. a soldier came up to report. "uhlans, sir--a sight of them, too. coming from the road we were taking. i think we got one of them, sir. toppled him off his horse, anyhow, sir." "all right. let them come," said captain hardy. "go along now, boys. if you see the cavalry sent to escort us, tell them to hurry! we'll try to beat them off until we get help." he turned away, and frank picked up his wheel. chapter ix a glimpse of the enemy other ears than theirs had heard that firing, too. as they rode along they saw a cloud of dust before them, and soon men and horses emerged from the dust. "let's hide in the hedge along the road," said frank. "come on--they'll never see us." "but they won't hurt us, frank. they're english--our friends." "probably they are. but how do we know? they may be more germans." "oh, i never thought of that! if they are--" "yes, if they are, it's good-bye to captain hardy and his supplies. but we can't help it. we've already done all we could for him." they watched the oncoming cavalry, but even at a little distance, what with their speed and the dust, it was impossible to tell to which army they belonged. they were either english or german; that was all that could be certain. and that could be deduced from their khaki uniforms. there were no colors to emerge, bright and vivid, from their dun mass; no points of steel, on which the rays of the sun might shine and be reflected. "if they were french we could tell," said henri, proudly. "we could see their red and blue uniforms and, if they were cuirassiers, their breastplates!" "yes. the french are far behind the times in that," said frank, a little impatiently. "nowadays armies don't try to act as if they were on dress parade. they wear uniforms that can't be seen any great distance away." "the french army fights in the uniform in which its famous victories were won," said henri. "and it gets killed in them, too," said frank. "gets killed when it doesn't do any good. but that doesn't matter now. ah, they're english! i can see that now. we needn't tell them to hurry--they're going for all they're worth now. they've heard the firing and are hastening." the english horsemen swept by. they were riding low in the saddle, urging their horses on. each man carried a carbine, ready to dismount at any moment and give battle as seemed best. in five minutes they had swept by. "two troops," said frank. "well, that ought to be enough, though there's no telling how many uhlans there were. ah, here come some more!" this time it was a battery of light artillery--four guns, going along almost as quickly as the cavalry had done. "that ought to settle it," said frank, with satisfaction. "even if they run into a brigade of uhlans, the guns ought to do the trick. i don't believe they had any guns or we'd have heard them by this time." "they're still fighting back there," said henri, as they wheeled their bicycles back to the road. "i can hear the firing." "yes, and i think it must be a pretty lively skirmish, too," said frank. "captain hardy would keep them at it. listen! the uhlans must outnumber them three or four to one. i hope the others get up in time." a few minutes gave assurance that they had. they heard the firing still more loudly; then, a few minutes later, the heavier sound of the guns chimed in. and then there was silence behind them. "score one for our side," said frank. "we know a little more than we did before, too. i think it's a safe guess that the germans aren't in this direction. we can go along without worrying about them." as he said that they were coasting down a little hill, at the bottom of which, henri had said, another road crossed the one on which they were riding just around a little turn in the road. and as they took that turn, their feet off the pedals, they almost fell off their wheels in astonishment. for the transverse road was gray-green with soldiers; soldiers with spiked helmets, marching south! a moment later they did fall off their wheels, deliberately, and at a common impulse, because it was the only way there was of stopping before they were in the midst of the german infantry. there was just a chance that they had not been seen and they took it, and fled to the hedge again, leaving their bicycles behind. there was no time to bother about such trifles now. the thing to do was to make good their escape, if they could. "whew!" said frank, whistling. "that was a close shave, if you like! where on earth did they come from? and how is it they didn't see the english cavalry?" "perhaps they didn't care, if they did see them," said henri, wide-eyed with astonishment. "look, frank, there must be thousands of them! where can they be going?" "where did they come from? that's more to the point!" said frank, vastly excited. "i know! they got the railway--that's what they did! they must have come through arras. jove, though, they took a terrible risk, harry! because, no matter how many of them there are, they can't even begin to compare with the allies in numbers--not around here. but how can they be here without being seen? what are our aeroplanes doing?" "i haven't seen one all day--not since we left amiens, at least," said henri. "but i know where they are--flying over the enemy's lines, trying to locate the guns exactly. that's what they try to do, you know. they decide just where a masked battery is, and then our fellows can drop their shells right among their guns. the gunners can't get the range properly any other way. there isn't any powder smoke to help them any more, you know. so i suppose that's where they are." "then i tell you what i think happened. i think they cut the railroad, or, rather, they didn't cut it. i bet they ran those fellows down there through on trains--right through our army." "how could they do that?" "easily--no, not easily. it wouldn't be easy at all. but it's possible. they've caught a lot of our men, haven't they? well, couldn't they use their uniforms so that it would look as if it was a french or an english train? let me have your field glass. it's better than mine." they were sheltered now and safe from observation. they could, nevertheless, see the german column strung out along the road. it seemed to cover at least two or three miles of the road, and there was no way of being sure that there were not more men. "i think they've got pretty nearly five thousand men," frank decided finally. "they're in light marching order, for germans, too. no camp kitchens--nothing. only what the men themselves are carrying. they're making a forced march to get to some particular place. queer to use infantry, though, but i suppose they couldn't get horses through with whatever trick it was they played." "they're beginning to turn off," said henri. "see, the head of the column is slipping through that field over there. they must know this country as well as i do or better. that's a short cut that will take them to hierville." "i don't believe they're going to hierville or any other village now," said frank. "tell me, are those woods i can see in front of them at all thick?" "yes, they're old, too. they've been preserved for a long time. that's the oldest part of the old park of the chateau d'avriere. it was one of the castles that wasn't destroyed in the revolution." "well, they're going to take cover in those woods. this is all a part of a mighty careful plan, harry. i think they have turned a real trick. if the french or the english knew that the germans were in any such force as this so far south and west as this they would be acting very differently, i believe. their aeroplanes have certainly failed them here." "they're on the line of retreat, if we were beaten again in that battle we've been hearing all afternoon." "i don't think it was a real battle at all, harry. i think it was just rear guard fighting. but i tell you what we've got to do. we've got to get through and tell about these troops. of course, they may know all about them at headquarters, but it doesn't look so. we had better wait here until we make fairly sure of what they're going to do and until there isn't any more danger of our being seen, too. they'll have scouts out all around them. we were mighty lucky to get through so long as we have. but it's going to get dark pretty soon, and then we ought to be safe." they lay in their improvised shelter. it took the germans a long time to pass, but at last the road below was free of them, and the last of them slipped into the sheltering obscurity of the woods. "we ought to find out if they're staying there, or if they are still moving on," said frank. "it's risky, but i think we ought to take the risk. you stay here, henri. i'll try to get around, and come back." "why should i stay here? if there's a risk, why shouldn't i take it just as well as you?" "because one of us has got to get through. if i'm caught, you'll still be here and able to get through to headquarters with what we've found out already. and the reason i'd better go is that i'm an american. if they catch me they're not so likely to hold me." "but i don't think it's fair for you to take the risk. i ought to do it," said henri, stubbornly. "i don't care what you think," said frank, "i'm going. au revoir, harry!" "wait a minute! how are you going to find out?" "i'll try to skirt the wood." "you needn't do that. keep straight on the road we were taking, instead of turning off at the foot of the hill. about half a mile beyond the crossroads the road rises again, and you'll find a windmill. if you climb to the top of that you can see beyond the woods, and you ought to be able to tell if the germans are moving out of the woods." "splendid!" said frank. he admired henri's readiness, once he had made up his mind that frank was going alone, to help him with his greater knowledge of the countryside. some boys would have been sullen, and would not have volunteered that information, he was sure. before frank started on his lonely errand, he carried henri's bicycle back of the hedge. then he mounted his own, and coasted down the hill. his object was to seem entirely indifferent, should some german scout or straggler spy him, but plainly the germans had decided to leave the road uncovered. "i guess they decided it was better to risk being surprised than to give themselves away," he said to himself. "otherwise they'd have been pretty sure to leave an outpost of some sort here because this road looks like just the place for troop movements. it looks more and more as if they had really managed to make a secret of this column." it did not take him long to find the windmill of which henri had told him. the place was deserted; there was no one to oppose his entry. and, when he reached the top, he found that there was an excellent view of the country for several miles, a much better one than they had had from their shelter on the hillside above the germans. he could see the woods into which the invading troops had disappeared, looking dark and mysterious in the deepening twilight. there was no sign of life about them; no smoke rose above the treetops. and no germans were beyond them. then his guess had been right, he decided. they had made for those woods to obtain shelter, and they relied upon the fact that the allies did not know of their presence. it was a daring move; it might well have been successful, save for the accident of the two boys who had observed it. indeed, even now there was a chance, and something more than a chance, that the german object, whatever it was, might be attained. frank and henri were a long way yet from having reached the british headquarters. unknown dangers and obstacles lay between them and their destination. "with the german attack developing so quickly as this, we don't know where we may not run into them," mused frank, as he descended from the windmill and mounted his wheel, preparing to start back to join henri. "they may be anywhere. i don't want to see them win, but they certainly are wonderfully good fighters. they have good leaders, too." when he reached henri he found that his french comrade was lighting the lamp of his bicycle. with a laugh he blew out the flame. "but it's dark and we'll be arrested if we ride without a light," said henri, protestingly. "that law was made for peace, not for war," said frank. "when we know as little about where the germans are as we do, i'm not going to take any chances. we'll ride with lights out, thank you. come on!" as they rode along in the growing dusk, close together, frank told what he had seen. "that was a good guess, then," said henri. "but, frank, how can they know so well what to do? you would think that they had been brought up in this country, those german officers!" "they might as well have been," said frank. "i've heard stories of how they prepare for war. they have maps that show every inch of land in this part of france. they know the roads, the hills, even the fields and the houses. they have officers with every regiment who know where ditches are that they can use as trenches, and who have studied the land so that they recognize places they have never seen, just from the maps that they have studied until they know them by heart. and it isn't only france that they know that way, but england, and some parts of russia, too. why, i've even heard that they've studied parts of america, around new york and boston, almost as thoroughly." henri cried out in anger. "that is how they have behaved!" he cried. "they have been planning, all these years, then, to crush france!" "oh, cheer up, harry," said frank. "i guess you'll find that your french staff officers have returned the compliment. unless i'm very much mistaken, any one of them could tell you just as much about the country in alsace and lorraine, and all through the rhine province, as the germans could of this section. it wasn't so in the last war. then french officers were losing their way in french territory. that was one reason why the battle at the speichern was lost--because french reinforcements lost their way. but this time france got ready, too." "shall we still make for le cateau?" "there's nothing else to do, until we find out that the staff has changed its location." riding along in a light that made men out of the shadows of trees and regiments of the shocked corn in the fields was eerie work. but neither of them was afraid. they were fired by a purpose to serve the cause in which they had enlisted. and they were thrilled, too, by the knowledge of the german force upon which they had spied, themselves unseen. and then all at once, out of a dark spot in the road, appeared a man, holding a horse. "halt!" he cried, in a guttural voice. they obeyed, perforce. and when they were close enough, they saw that he was a german cavalryman, one of the dreaded uhlans. chapter x through the lines for a moment frank's heart sank, but suddenly, a hoarse laugh surprised him and revived his spirits. it was the uhlan. he was laughing at them. "kinder!" he said, deep down in his throat. "nothing so alarming in this," thought frank, experiencing quick relief, and awaiting the uhlan's next words. "i have my way lost," he said, in a guttural english. "kannst du englisch sprechen?" "i am an american," said frank, at the same time nudging henri, and hoping that he would understand it as a signal to keep still. "where do you want to go?" "that matters not," said the german, cautiously. "only tell me, which way from here is amiens?" they told him. "and where does the road to st. quentin turn off from this one?" "it is the next turn, to your left," said frank, truthfully. "good! then i will be going. go home, kinder. you will get into trouble if you stay hereabout." he vaulted upon his horse, and the next moment they heard hoofs clattering along the hard road, and, looking after him, could see the sparks as the iron clashed with the flint of the road's surface. "that was easy!" said frank, with a gasp of relief. "he was alone," said henri. "carrying despatches, i expect," said frank. "he wouldn't tell us where he was going, naturally, but i bet he's looking for those other troops we saw. dangerous work, too. but i wonder where he came from. if there are more uhlans in front, we may get into trouble." "suppose we hide the bicycles near here and go along through the fields? don't you think that will be better, frank?" was henri's cautious suggestion. "yes, i suppose it will, though it will be slower, too." "of course. but if we are going to be stopped all the time along this road, we'll really save time in the end by doing it." so they made a cache, as frank told henri it should be called, hiding their wheels so that they would have a chance of recovering them if they came back this way. they marked the spot not only by landmarks, but by the stars, which were beginning to dot the sky now. "there may be fighting here," said frank. "and if there is, this place may look very different before we see it again. if there is a battle the trees will go, and the fences, and all the houses for if they are not burned deliberately, the shells will destroy them." "look, frank, what is that?" henri had turned and was pointing now to the north. there a stream of white light shot into the air, then dropped, and left only its reflection. but in a moment others joined it, and the whole sky to the north was brilliantly lighted. it was like a display of northern lights, only nearer and even more brilliant. "searchlights, of course," said frank. "they can throw them on the trenches--and they're good to guard against aeroplanes and dirigibles, too. at night, you see, there'd be a chance for aeroplanes to fly very low and do a lot of damage." "can't they hear the engines from the ground?" "not always. they have mufflers on a good many aeroplane motors now, so that they don't make any more noise than a quiet automobile." "i didn't know that. well, there's one good thing about the searchlights. we know which way to go. come on." "all right. the more i think of it, the better it is not to be on the roads. here in the fields we're a lot less likely to run into stray parties. and i'd just about as soon meet germans as allies. if they're retreating and having trouble, they might hold us up as long as the germans would. they wouldn't believe we really had despatches." for a time they made good, steady progress. the roar of artillery fire in front of them had been resumed, and now it filled the air, proving that they were much closer to the battle. the great waves of sound beat against their ears, making their heads swim at first, but gradually they grew used to it, and could hear other and more trivial sounds--the chirping of night insects and the occasional hooting of owls. "i don't hear the rifle fire," said henri, after a time. "only once in a while, that is. why is that, i wonder? are the big guns drowning it?" "no. because if that were the reason, we wouldn't hear it at all. i think they don't do that at night. it's just a case of trying to find the places where the enemy's troops are massed, and keeping up a steady fire of shells to drive them out. maybe the searchlights help. they've been fighting all day, you know, and even soldiers have to have some rest. they have to eat and sleep or they can't keep up the work." they crossed more than one road, but stuck to the fields, travelling in a straight line as nearly as they could figure their course. when they had decided to join the boy scouts, both had studied the stars, since a knowledge of the heavens is one of the most important things about scouting, and they found what they had learned very valuable now. thus they could keep their bearings, though owing to their desertion of the roads, henri confessed that he had very little idea of where they were. "along the roads one has landmarks," he said. "i have gone all through here, over and over again. my father used to drive this way very often in our automobile." "well, we can't go very far wrong," said frank, cheerfully. "all we've got to do is to follow the old german maxim, 'march on the cannon thunder!' that was their one rule in , you know and a very good rule it proved too." so they went on. and they still seemed to be a long way from the seat of the heavy artillery firing when a challenge halted them, as they were about to cross a road. "'alt! 'oo goes there?" called a cockney voice sharply. "friends," cried frank, instantly. "'alt, friends, while i 'as a look at you," said the sentry. "call your officer, please. we are carrying despatches," said frank. "i'll call 'im, all right. my word! you ain't nothin' but kiddies, you ain't! 'ere! corporal of the guard! i sye! corporal of the guard!" he raised his voice in the shout, and a minute or so later a corporal appeared. "came up to me, sir," said the sentry. "said as 'ow they wanted me to call the officer of the guard. carryin' despatches, they sye they is." "all right," said the corporal, briskly. "come with me, my lads. step smartly when you're told or you may be shot," in a genial voice. they followed him through a field that seemed deserted, then came to a small cluster of tents, where they stopped. "wait here," said the corporal. "i'll bring the lieutenant." they did not have long to wait before a young officer approached them. "my word!" he said, when he saw how young they were. "what are you youngsters doing here?" "we're looking for headquarters, sir," said frank. "we are carrying despatches from amiens." "all right! give them to me, and i'll see that they're forwarded, my lads," said the officer, with a grin. "we can't do that, sir," said frank. "our orders are to carry them to headquarters--and to give the word mezieres." "ah, that's different, now," said the officer. "corporal, give me two men to take these despatch-bearers through the lines," came the order. the giving of the word had made a great change in his attitude. it was plain that before that he had not taken them seriously, but had supposed them to be playing some prank. now, however, he looked at them curiously. "boy scouts?" he suggested. "yes, sir," said frank. "detailed to special duty, without uniforms." "i see! jolly plucky of you, i call it. i say, you're not french, my lad, are you? how did you get here? well, never mind! here's your escort. be off with you, now." their troubles were over now. within five minutes they were at headquarters. there a weary staff officer received them. they saluted. "very well," he said. "give me your despatches." each of them produced his handful of marbles from his pocket, and laid them solemnly before the major. he stared, first at the marbles, then at them. "what sort of a silly prank is this?" he roared. "do you think we've nothing better to do than to waste time in jokes? if you were men--" "we are obeying orders, sir," said frank, quietly. "those are the despatches colonel menier at amiens gave us to deliver. he said that only one officer here would know what they meant, and how to get the despatches." "o, i beg your pardon," said the major. he took down his telephone. "ask if despatches are expected from amiens," he said, into the instrument. "and find out who is in charge." "there is another matter, sir," said frank. "we saw german troops as we came here." "uhlans. yes, they're all around behind us. one squadron of them was cut up when it attacked a convoy. there aren't many of them." "no, sir, i didn't mean uhlans. there is a force of infantry--five thousand men, we estimated--" "what?" thundered the major, springing to his feet, "you must be dreaming! where did you think you saw them? and where were they?" frank explained. "it sounds incredible," said the major, frowning. "come! i'll take you to general smith-derrien. if that's true, it's highly important news. here, show me on this map just the place where you say you saw them." frank and henri pointed at once to the wood in which the german infantry had vanished, then followed the major out of the room. chapter xi an unexpected chance the first impression they had of general smith-derrien was of his absolute calmness. the major had been excited when he heard the report of the german infantry in the woods. but when they entered the room in which sat the british general who was responsible for the retreat, as they guessed, they saw a quiet-faced man with smiling eyes, who listened attentively to the reports of the officers who were constantly hurrying up to him, spoke a word or two in answer, and turned, imperturbably, to the next comer. their guide left them near the door. "wait a minute here," he said. "i'll tell the general your story. but he'll want to speak to you himself. he always does." frank watched the british leader closely as he turned to the major, who now went up to him. if the news moved him, he gave no sign of his emotion. instead he nodded quickly, once or twice; then he looked over toward frank and henri. the major turned to them, beckoning, and they went up. general smith-derrien was sitting at a table. before him was an ordnance map of the section covered by his operations. "now tell me exactly what happened, as quickly as you can," he said. "you saw these germans--just where? point it out on the map. give me your position and the road they took." frank and henri studied the map a moment. they traced their own course from amiens; soon they found the spot. the map was on a very large scale, and it showed the hills and a great deal of detail. it was easy to explain just where they had seen the germans. "they went into the woods, you say," said the general. "but why did you think they stayed there? why shouldn't they have gone on?" "i went along the road to a spot where i could see beyond the woods, sir," said frank. "and there was no sign of them." "you did? that was excellent--regular scouting. oh, i fancy i understand! boy scouts, are you?" "yes, sir," they echoed together. "well, if your information is exact--and i have no reason to doubt it, of course--you did a very fine piece of scouting, and i shall be glad to see that you get the proper amount of credit for it, when the time comes. now your information is most valuable. but before i can act on it, i must be absolutely certain that it is accurate. will one of you help one of my scouts to determine this?" "let me go, sir," said frank, quickly. "i was the one who saw the other side of the woods--" "but i know the country best," protested henri. "and--" "i think you'd better go," said the general to frank. perhaps he thought frank was english; in any case he selected him. "i don't think it will be dangerous at all, or i shouldn't let you go. we haven't started using boys in this war yet. major, you will see to it that a start is made as soon as possible!" turning to that officer. the major saluted. "yes, sir, at once," he said. "the one who does not go can deliver the despatches they brought from amiens--a handful of marbles!" "eh? what's that? those are the despatches from colonel menier. i'll take those!" plainly, since he knew of them, he was the officer to whom they should be delivered. so frank and henri, not without some misgivings, since the major's annoyance at the sight of the marbles had rather depressed them, handed over their marbles. general smith-derrien picked them up, weighed them in his hand, and finally selected two, to the undisguised amazement of his staff. but when he pressed a hidden spring, and each marble flew back, showing that it was hollow, cries of admiration came from those who were close by. "very well. they are in good order," he said, after a glance at the thin but tough paper. "i will send an answer by the scout who remains here." the major was already moving toward the door, and frank, with a quick grasp of henri's hand and a salute for the general, followed him. he was sorry for henri's disappointment, but he had made up his mind when they left amiens that whenever possible, he himself would take any risks that were to be run. no one would care greatly if anything happened to him, since his parents were dead, and his only other close relative was his uncle, of whom he had seen very little. but henri's mother was alive, and, moreover, she had troubles enough. her husband was at the front, and there was no telling whether or not he would ever return. "come along, young 'un," said the major. his name, frank learned, when a passing officer spoke to him, was cooper. "know what you're going to do?" "i'm to help a scout to determine the position of the germans we saw," said frank. "yes, but how? in an aeroplane, my lad! i envy you. they've never let me go up in one of the blooming things yet--and just because i happen to be assigned to a special job here with the staff. a lot of fun this war is going to be for me! we've been at it pretty nearly a month, and i haven't been under fire yet!" frank found it hard to conceal his delight. he had always wanted to have the experience of riding in an aeroplane, but never before had he seen even a remote chance that it would be gratified. now he was to have fulfilled one of his most cherished ambitions--and in what a way! to fly with one of the wonderful aviators of whom he had been hearing ever since the war began, and over hostile territory. risk! what if there was? in his own room major cooper sent an orderly flying, and in a few moments he returned, followed by a spare, tall man in a uniform differing slightly from that of the regular troops. he wore a heavy sweater, and on his head was a headgear resembling, frank thought, that worn by football players in america. "you sent for me, major?" "yes, captain greene. you'll have to make a flight to-night. this lad is one of two boy scouts who have reported seeing german infantry in rather considerable force south and west of our position here. he will show you on the map just where he says they are lying up. the general wants to verify this report or disprove it as quickly as possible. your orders are simply to make a reconnaissance and to run no avoidable risks. if it is possible, ascertain the facts without betraying your own presence. i have detailed you because you have a silent motor." "very well, sir," said captain greene. "now, then, my lad, sharp's the word. show me just where you say these germans are." for the third time frank pointed out the spot on the map, and the flyer whistled. "don't wonder you want to know where they are!" he said. "if that's so, it's a pretty big sell for us flying chaps--eh, what? we rather fancied there wasn't a chance for them to do anything that we didn't know all about as soon as it was done." "exactly," said the major, rather dryly. "well, here's your chance to make up for errors of omission. get the facts, and get back as quickly as you can." "all right. double quick, young 'un. what's your name, eh? might as well be sociable!" frank told him, and liked the tall aviator immensely. but there was no more talk between them as he followed the captain to the outside. he had all he could do to keep up with the englishman's great strides without trying to talk too. greene led the way to a park-like enclosure, where, under shaded electric lights that lit the ground fully but were so screened that no betraying flashes showed from above, a dozen aeroplanes stood, gaunt and ghostlike in the night. "see those lights?" said greene. "if one of those german johnnies in a taube came along he could make a lot of mess by dropping a couple of bombs down here. an aeroplane's delicate enough as it is. a bomb will put it out of business in no time. here we are! wait till i try the motor and see to my tank. if you run out of petrol at five hundred feet you can't always find a garage where they'll sell you more!" the tank was full, however. his mechanic had seen to that. and the engine responded beautifully to the first test. "all right," said greene. "in with you! ever been up?" "no. this is my first trip," said frank. "easy enough, if you don't get scared. keep perfectly still. no matter what happens, don't touch me or anything except the grips for your hands that you'll find there. she's apt to rock and kick like a broncho sometimes but you can't fall out, because you'll be strapped in. remember, now, don't touch me and don't touch any levers or anything else you see." chapter xii the monoplane looking down from above, as he was doing, it was hard for frank to keep his bearings at all. naturally, everything looked very different. he had been used to looking up at houses, and had had them in one plane. now everything was flat before him. in the day time the resemblance of the country as he now saw it to a map might have helped him. but at night, even on a clear night, things were blurred. fences and roads ran together confusedly. and this night was not clear. the day had been fair, but now clouds were coming up. "we'll have some rain, hang it!" said greene. "the firing seems to bring it. at least that's what they say. wonder if it's true? i suppose it might." "i should think it might be a good thing," said frank. "it'll make it harder for them to see us, won't it! and that ought to help us." "yes, but it'll make it a good deal harder for us to see what we're after, too. cuts both ways, you see. still i don't mind as long as we don't have fog or wind, and i think i'd rather have the wind. you know where you're at with wind, anyway. in a fog--lord! you've no idea what a thing fog is until you've tried to make a landing in it." with the motor muffled down, they were able to talk easily. in the earlier days of aeroplanes the motor made so much noise that anything like a sustained conversation was impossible. but now the motor only purred gently in their ears, just like that of a motor car. for military purposes the silence thus obtained more than made up for the slight sacrifice of power. the more old-fashioned 'planes, many of which were still in use, advertised their presence to an enemy as soon as they came at all near. but this new type, largely used by the british and the french, as frank knew, had to be seen before they were in any danger, so silently do they wing their flight. "talking about fog," greene went on, talking as indifferent as if they had been on solid ground, "i had a nasty experience just before kaiser bill started this trouble. went up at sheerness, for an experimental flight in this same 'plane. first time i'd had her out, and i didn't know her very well. and one of those old-fashioned sea fogs came rolling in when i was ten miles from anywhere. never saw anything so sudden in my life!" "how did you find your way, sir?" "i didn't! i just went up and up until i was above the fog and in the sunlight. you can do that, you know. but that was a queer fog--rose a whole lot. anyway, when i got above it, it was precious cold. and the sun didn't do me much good. i'd got lost, so far as my bearings below were concerned, making spirals as i went up. what i hoped for was to find out something when i was above the fog." "how was that? you mean that the fog would only spread over a certain distance?" he asked. "that's it exactly. only i didn't know that fog! so far as i could tell, it spread over all england and ireland, too, with some left over for france! only one thing for it, of course. i knew i'd get away from it if i kept on flying. so i steered by the sun as well as i could, and kept on until my petrol began to run short, and a cylinder began missing. and then, just as i was wondering whose windows i'd break when i went down, it began to thin out, and slipped away as quickly as it had come. and i was right above the golf links on wimbledon common. i volplaned down, and landed on a putting green, and an old colonel who'd been invalided home from india said i'd done it on purpose, and he was going to have me court-martialled!" frank laughed heartily at the story. but at the same time, he suspected captain greene's purpose in telling it. he thought the captain wanted to keep his spirits up, and make him forget that he had never had a flight before, and he admired and liked him more than ever in consequence, even though, as he told himself, it wasn't necessary. "hello! i think we're getting near your spot, young 'un," said greene, abruptly. he dipped down, and frank peered down to see where they were. "yes," he cried, in assent. "there's the hill we were coming down when we saw them, just as we rounded that turn. that's the road they were marching along, and there, over to our left, are the woods. i wonder if they're still there." "we'll soon know," said greene. "now for a little climbing. i'm not afraid of being hit, but orders are to find them without being seen, if we can manage it. so we'll try the high spots for a bit." at once the monoplane began climbing, ascending in great spirals. frank was absorbed by the sensation. he found that he could see the ground receding without feeling any qualms, and said so. "you're lucky," said greene, briefly. "made me feel queer first few times i tried it, i can tell you. you're probably a born flyer--and the chances are you'll never do much of it, i suppose! always the way!" frank, looking down, saw that they were moving away from the woods which they were to reconnoitre, and mentioned it. "got to," said greene, briefly. "then we'll fly back. we can't climb in a straight line. when i went out for altitude once, i made twelve thousand feet, and when i finished climbing i was nearly fifteen miles, in a straight line, from where i started. let's see. got that flashlight i gave you? play it right on the board there till i tell you to stop." frank obeyed, shooting the little spear of light on the various instruments in front of the aviator. "all right. hold it there. my barograph, you see. gives me my height by showing the change in atmospheric pressure. that's how we calculate height. not very exact, because all sorts of things vary the pressure. but it's near enough. a thousand feet! that's good enough. i don't believe they're looking for us. we don't usually scout behind our own lines." now he brought the monoplane around in a great sweep and flew straight over the woods. but, though frank looked down through powerful navy night glasses, of the sort that are used for look-out duty at sea, he could see nothing. "clasp them around my head--so," said greene. "see the trick? all right! now i'll have a look. there's another pair in my pocket--use those for yourself." but if the germans were there, they were concealing their presence with a good deal of care and skill. "have to go lower, then," decided greene. "get ready! we'll shoot the chutes now." he pointed the monoplane straight down, cut out his motor, and glided earthward in a glorious volplane, the most wonderful sensation that even flight, with all its wonders, can afford. when the earth seemed about to come up and hit them, though it was still actually a good five hundred feet below, he caught the machine, righted it, and started the motor again. then he had to fly back until he was again directly over the woods, and once more, while the monoplane moved very slowly, they peered down. but still there was no sign. "humph!" said greene. "if they were supposed to be anything but germans, i'd say you'd told us a cock and bull story, young 'un! english troops, or french, would show some sort of a light. some fool would take a chance to get a smoke. but these germans! they're not men--they're machines. they'll obey orders that officers wouldn't take the trouble to give in any other army. we'll have to make sure. up we go again!" frank could not see how going up would make it possible for them to get the information that coming down hadn't afforded. but he said nothing, because he had come to feel by this time that when captain greene did a thing he had a perfectly sound reason for his action. nor was he wrong. once more they climbed in a high spiral curve until they were higher than they had been before. for the first time, frank now felt a peculiar ringing in his ears. he mentioned it, and greene laughed. "pressure," he said. "you'll get used to it! lord, sometimes i've felt as if my head would burst when i started to climb. but it doesn't last long. feel in the seat there beside you, at your left. there ought to be a big electric torch." "here it is! i've got it, sir," said frank, a moment later. "all right. touch the button at the end. let's see if it lights up properly." it did, decidedly, for the result was a blinding glare. "pretty powerful, isn't it?" said greene. "it's used for signalling, you see. flash the light, and you can reproduce morse perfectly. when you're high up it can be seen a long way, too. now hold it straight down and flash it, then give a steady glare. let us see if we cannot draw anything." frank obeyed, at the same time getting a glimpse of greene's idea. he held the torch pointing straight down, and saw the beam of light shooting straight down. it was not powerful enough, of course, by the time it reached the treetops, to illuminate them, and so make anything below visible, but it was certainly strong enough to be observed from below, he thought. but still there was no movement, and the uncanny silence and darkness below persisted. "all right. there's still another chance," said greene, patiently. he drew a revolver from his pocket. "flash your little light this way. let me see if it's all right," he said. frank obeyed. "new fangled automatic--very powerful, and shoots a . bullet almost as far as an old-fashioned rifle," explained greene. "very useful if one runs into another 'plane unexpectedly--and the other fellow happens to be a german." a moment later he opened fire, shooting straight downward. he could not aim, of course, but it was not his object to hit anything. he emptied one clip of cartridges, and before the last shot was fired the woods below began to spit fire. at once the monoplane began racing. "got 'em!" cried greene, exultingly. "i thought that would do it! it isn't human nature to be under fire without sending back a shot or two--not even german human nature!" no bullets came near them, but there was no longer any possible doubt that the germans were below. the fusillade had settled that. greene slowed down. "show your light quickly, then douse it at once," he cried. frank flashed the light of the big torch for an instant. and at once the monoplane shot forward. "see the point?" cried greene. "they'll aim at where the light was. only we won't be obliging enough to be there! well, this is a good night's work, my lad! you were right, and if i'm not much mistaken, you'll get your name in dispatches for this. the beggars! i'd like to know how they got through without being spotted!" all the time the monoplane was racing away. but suddenly there was a sharp crack behind them, and in an agony of concern greene twisted around in his seat. "oh, lord!" he groaned. "i crowed too soon! that's the petrol tank--bullet hole! it'll leak out, and we can't stop the leak!" "if you went down right away, would it all get out before you reached the ground?" "no, but they'll catch us if we go down here. can't do that." "it's the only chance!" said frank. "isn't it?" "you're right. i'll take it. good boy! you don't mind the risk?" "no!" said frank. then they were rushing down. it was a desperate venture. greene pointed for a field, but in the darkness the risk of capture by the germans was the least that they faced. greene had cut out his engine; there was too much danger of an explosion, with the leaking petrol, to allow the spark to continue. he had to volplane down this time, not as a quick way of descending, but as the only means of preventing a disastrous fall. even in broad daylight there is always risk in landing with a dead motor. here, in the darkness and with unknown country below, the risk was multiplied a hundred times. all that greene knew with any certainty was that he was over country broken up into fields. the fences were numerous, there were ditches, too, and obstructions of all sorts. the larger ones he could see readily enough, when he got close; it was the smaller ones that threatened the real danger. but if the danger was great, greene was a master of his craft. he swooped downward. then, when he was scarcely a hundred feet up, he caught the machine with a fine show of skill and held it, for a moment, on an even keel. "we'll chance it in the next field," he called. "can't stay up any further. here goes!" down, down, they went. then they were down, bumping along. but the element of luck that, despite all his skill, greene had to have, favored him. the field was smooth and the monoplane came to rest safely. in an instant both were out, greene first, since frank, having to free himself from his straps, was delayed. "quick! the small flashlight!" called the flyer. "here, give it to me! if we're to save any essence we've got to be quick!" he took the light. but a quick look over the tank failed to show a spurting stream of gasoline. "by jove! wonder if i could have been mistaken? perhaps it was something else they hit!" cried greene. but then he groaned. as he unscrewed the cap of the tank and peered in, he saw that it was bone dry. chapter xiii a dangerous errand for a moment greene was speechless with despair. fate had tricked him, it seemed, after he had done his best--and a better best than most men could even have attempted. then he grinned. "we'll have to hoof it," he said. "a good twelve miles, too! if we were champions at cross-country work it would take us the best part of two hours. and it's so long since i've used my legs that i don't know how long i'll be." "there's one chance," said frank. "i remember that i saw a little inn on the road the germans took this afternoon. we're not so very far from that now. these little inns along the roads in france all have petrol for motorists who run short. if i went there i might get some." greene shook his head doubtfully. "the government's taken all the essence it could find," he said, "i don't believe they'd have any. and, besides, there's a good chance that the germans have men there." "still it's a chance," said frank. "won't you let me try? if i can't get it we shan't lose much time. and if i do, look at the difference it would make." "that's true enough," said greene. "all right, try it. i'll mend up the hole, when i find it, and if you do get some essence, we can be off at once. good luck!" frank was on his way already, slipping away in the direction whence they had come. luckily enough, he got his bearings by the windmill from which he had observed the wood into which the germans had gone. to make his way to the road along which he and henri had first seen the germans passing was an easy matter. but he was afraid of roads by this time, and the more so because he knew that the germans, having been aroused by the attack from the sky, would be doubly on the alert. so he stuck to the side of the road, religiously taking advantage of every bit of cover he could find to escape the foe. "they knew they'd given themselves away just as soon as they fired at us," he reasoned, thinking half aloud as he trudged along, which was a habit of his. "and i don't believe they know they hit us at all. they do know that they didn't bring us down at once. anyhow, there's no reason for them to be secret any more, and if they stay in that wood, they'll throw out pickets now, because they'll think that as soon as we went back and made our report troops would be sent to rout them out. it's up to me to be mighty careful." that was good sound reasoning, too. from all he had learned since the war began, he knew that the germans were by no means foes to be despised. they had been pretty generally victorious, but that was not all. they had shown a capacity for being always ready, for thinking of everything that might come up to block their plans. and he was sure, therefore, that the german commander would not argue that the aeroplane had got clean away just because the probabilities indicated that it had. he was almost certain to beat the country within a reasonable area for it, in the hope of finding it crippled and thus unable to carry the news it had come to get. "i bet the germans wouldn't have sent just one aeroplane," he reflected. "they'd have sent two, so that if anything happened to one, the other could have brought back the news." but though he was thinking hard, he didn't linger as he went. soon he came to the transverse road along which the germans had gone, and turned in the direction they had taken. it was beginning to rain a little now, and it was very dark. he still stuck to the fields, though he was close to the road, and he found nothing to bar his way to the inn. when he got there, moreover, he found the place dark and deserted. not a soul was in sight, but there were evidences that spoke as eloquently as men or women could have done. in the tap room furniture was smashed and broken and shattered glass was about the floor. plainly the germans had stopped as they went by. "of course!" he said, to himself. "if there were people here they took them along with them. they wouldn't be likely to leave any french people, whose first idea would be to tell what they had seen! it's certainly lucky that they didn't see us. we'd be with them now, i guess." it was spooky work exploring the abandoned inn in the damp, dark night and with the knowledge that german soldiers were probably no great distance away. it was less than a quarter of a mile to the edge of the wood that had assumed such an important aspect, and he expected at any moment to hear the footsteps of intruders. none the less he went about his task quietly and coolly. "if they had any essence, they'd hide it," he said to himself. "they'd know that both armies would need it for automobiles and aeroplanes, and they'd try to keep any they had left. so it won't be in any of the usual places." for that reason he did not even leave the main building to make a search in the stable that was used as a garage. instead, he went into the cellar. here it was still plainer that the germans had passed through. his feet stepped into puddles of sticky dampness, and, using his flashlight, he saw that it was wine. the heads of casks had been knocked in; broken bottles, too, strewed the floor. this, however, had not been wanton destruction, he was sure. it had an object, and that object had been to prevent the soldiers from getting anything to drink. troops on an errand requiring such extraordinary secrecy as had been maintained in this case could not be allowed to drink any liquor. that would have spoiled in all likelihood the remarkable discipline of which captain greene had spoken. but, once more, it was not his business to think of what he saw, or to speculate about it, but to find the petrol if any was to be found. and he stumbled upon the hidden store quite suddenly, and quite literally, too. in one corner of the cellar was what looked like a pile of kindling wood. harry kicked it indifferently in passing, and was almost thrown when his feet encountered a resistance more solid than he had any reason to expect. he looked down, and there, under the kindling, were two ten-gallon cans of petrol! "i knew it must be there!" he cried to himself. he was down on his knees in a moment, shaking the cans to make sure that they were full. one had never been broached; the other was nearly half full. and this second can was the one he took. that would be more than enough to get the monoplane back to headquarters, and there was no reason for burdening himself with too great a load. he picked up the can, and at the same moment his heart leaped up into his throat, for overhead there came the sound of heavy footsteps. for a moment he stood as if paralyzed, listening. the footsteps continued; guttural voices sounded,--the voices of germans. it was impossible to distinguish what they were saying; and it made no difference, in any case. the only point that mattered was that they were there; that they blocked the only means frank had of getting away with the precious petrol he had so luckily found. he was safe enough personally. even if they were led to come down into the cellar the chances were all in favor of his being able to conceal himself. what he feared was that some use was to be made of the place, and that the men whose voices he heard would stay there, thus preventing him from getting out of the building and so getting the petrol to greene. it was more than possible, he thought, that the german commander, knowing that the presence of his troops in the woods had been discovered, would decide to use this place for headquarters. and what he could hear confirmed this idea. there was a continual tramping overhead. men came and went. that seemed to indicate that the occupation was to be permanent. he racked his brains for some means of escape. windows there were none in the cellar. he found no trace of a trap door, such as there would have been in almost any american cellar. and then the saving thought came to him like a flash. he debated for a moment, then decided that the risk was worth taking. first he took his can of gasoline to the steps. then he poured a little into a broken bottle, and poured this, in turn, on the wood under which he had found the cans. he dragged the full can of petrol to the other side of the cellar. and then, very deliberately, he set a match to the gasoline soaked wood and retreated to the steps. the fire he had started blazed up at once, owing to the petrol. and at once a thick, acrid smoke filled the place. he was well up on the stairs, and thus safe from being choked. but he was in danger should the germans come down, though even so, since the steps were wide, there was a chance for him. but he did not expect them to come down. he thought the smoke would drive them out, since as nearly as he could judge his fire was directly under the room in which the most of the commotion upstairs was taking place. it was not long before he heard coughing upstairs, the first sign that the smoke was doing its work. by that time a brisk fire was burning. it had run up the posts to the beams that formed the chief support of the room above, and to his delight frank saw that these burned far more fiercely and quickly than he had hoped. plainly the wood was old and dry. above, as the fire spread, louder cries succeeded the coughing. and then came the crucial test by which his daring experiment had to stand or fall. some one opened the door at the head of the stairs. now, if ever, he was to be discovered! but as the door was opened the smoke was drawn up, and the german who had come to it jumped back. "the whole place is burning! get out!" he cried, in german. "there may be explosive spirits still down there!" he slammed the door shut, and frank heard running footsteps above. he waited until there were no more, and then, almost overcome by the smoke, slipped through the door. no one was left in the hallway into which he came. the place was full of smoke. he did not venture to the front door by which he had entered, but, still dragging his can of petrol, went to the back. going through the kitchen, he found another door, as he had been sure he would and in a moment he was drinking in the cool, fresh air. the rain that was beating down on him now was welcome. just as he reached the open there was a sharp explosion behind him, and he looked back, to see the windows on the ground floor glowing. that was the other can of petrol, as he could guess readily enough. at once he ducked, and, running low, got well to one side of the house. then, just as a great burst of flame lighted up the whole scene, he dropped to the ground, and lay peering toward the road in front of the inn. a dozen officers and as many men, all in the german uniform, with the spiked helmets that made them so unmistakable, were in the road, staring at the burning house. and it was not until frank saw how angry one of the officers was that he realized what a useful idea his had really been. now detection of the germans was certain. investigation was almost certain to be made of a fire in a building so far out of the range of the german artillery as this. and so, even if neither he nor captain greene got back in time, the torch he had lighted, meaning only to secure his own escape, was likely to prove a death blow to the german hopes of secrecy. frank could not hear what the germans were saying, but he had no intention of getting closer in an attempt to do so. instead, having satisfied himself that there were no pickets behind the burning inn, he began crawling cautiously to the rear. it was a difficult task, especially so because of the petrol, which was no light burden. but he managed to get well out of the lighted zone and then he decided that it would be safe to straighten up and walk along. as he went along the burning building served him well. it gave him a fixed landmark from which he could lay his course to the spot where he had left the monoplane and captain greene. by looking back from time to time he could correct his course, when he was crossing fields. and so without the guidance of roads, and partly to make better time and partly to avoid stray german pickets, he chose to stay away almost entirely from the roads and go across country. from the fields in which they had descended to the inn the distance, as nearly as he had been able to guess it, was about a mile. he shortened this somewhat on the return trip. and he was within a quarter of a mile of the meeting place when he became suddenly conscious of something that was not just right. at first he was tempted to stop, but he overcame the temptation. the thing that had warned him of a possible danger was a trifling noise, yet one that was out of the ordinary. what the noise was he could scarcely have told. perhaps the breaking of a twig, perhaps the slipping of a foot along a suddenly encountered patch of mud. at any rate he was sure that he had been followed. he slowed down and now he could hear, or thought he could, the heavy breathing of at least two men. he was not certain of this; he was willing to admit to himself that he might be fancying it. "if they're after me, why don't they take me?" he wondered to himself. but the explanation came to him almost as soon as he had asked himself the question. whoever was following him could reason from the sight of the can of petrol he was carrying that he was going to some definite place where that petrol was wanted. and it would require no great stretch of the imagination for his trailers to decide that he must be carrying fuel to the aeroplane that had worked such havoc with the german plans. "they think i'll lead them to the 'plane," he thought. half a dozen plans for misleading them came to him. but none seemed practicable. frank was intensely dogged in his determination to accomplish anything he had set out to do. the idea of giving up now, even to mislead his pursuers and so save captain greene from capture, was repugnant to him. he wanted to foil the men behind him--unless, as was possible, he only imagined that they were behind him--and still do what he had set out to do, which was in this instance to refill that empty petrol tank on the monoplane. it was the purely accidental movement of putting his hand into his pocket to dry it off that gave him the idea. it met the pocket flashlight captain greene had given him, and at once he remembered a use for it of which the aviator had told him. to follow the plan did not mean that it would succeed, but it represented a chance, anyhow. and so when he came to the fence which he remembered climbing on his way from the monoplane, he stopped on the top rail, having pushed his can of petrol through first. in the field now immediately in front of him, but far away still, on the other side of the field, lay the monoplane. he could not see it in the driving rain but he knew that it was there. there too would be greene, waiting for him, and in all probability at this moment straining his eyes watching for his return. on that depended his chance of success in the plan that had come to him. on that, and on greene's presence of mind and quick-wittedness. so, still astride of the top rail, he began signalling with his pocket flashlight. he spelled out his message in morse code, using a long pressure of the releasing switch for the dash and a short one for the dot. word by word he spelled out his message, telling that he suspected that at least two germans were trailing him. and at the end he signalled a request that if he had understood, greene should wait a half minute and then imitate an owl's cry. he chose an owl because he had heard one or two earlier in the night. and he added that if he got the signal he would keep on heading for the monoplane. he suggested nothing to greene; the rest was decidedly up to the aviator. frank had done his share. if there were germans actually within sight of him, they did not attempt to interfere with him while he was flashing his message. but he had reckoned confidently that they would not. he was sure that he had not betrayed the fact that he knew he was being followed, and they would naturally suppose that this stop for signalling was part of a pre-arranged plan. he now dropped to the ground, picked up his can and took two or three quick steps. then he stopped abruptly and was sure that he heard a footstep behind him. he grinned to himself, and just then the hoot of an owl sounded. then he went on. "i'll make it easier for them," he said. "perhaps they wouldn't like to follow me right across the field!" so he skirted the fence and the hedge at the side, and went around three sides of the field to reach the monoplane. and, as soon as it was in sight, all his suspicions were verified, for from behind there came a sharp exclamation in german, and he was told to stop, just as a heavy hand gripped his shoulder. "ja, we were right!" exclaimed one man in german. "there is their aeroplane! now for the other--" he never finished the sentence. instead, he threw up his hands and pitched forward, just as a revolver cracked sharply in the silent night. with an oath the man who held frank threw him aside, at the same moment shooting in the direction of the flash of greene's pistol. but the englishman's revolver spoke at the same moment, and he too fell. frank's ruse had saved the day! chapter xiv mentioned in dispatches! "keep back!" called greene sharply to frank. his revolver still in his hand, he flashed the powerful light frank had used in the monoplane into the faces of the two germans. they lay groaning within a foot or two of one another. "no tricks!" said greene, sharply. "i don't want to finish you, but i'll shoot again if you make a move, except you can throw away your revolvers." he spoke in german, and both of the wounded men obeyed. frank was immensely relieved. he had been afraid that they had been killed, and the thought had sickened him. he realized fully that it would have been in accordance with the idea of war had greene killed them both; that it would have been no more than his duty. and yet he was more than glad that they were alive and, so far as he could judge at that moment, not badly hurt or not dangerously wounded, at least. "fill that tank with the petrol," said greene to frank, "but leave a little in the can." frank obeyed, wondering why the order was given. then greene pushed the monoplane along the ground for some distance until it was in a favorable position to take the air. "all right! get in!" he said. "strap yourself in. know how the straps go? right! i'm going to make a bonfire. it'll bring someone to help those poor chaps. i don't want them to have to lie here all night unless they have to." he took the can which frank had almost emptied and poured what gasoline remained on the ground that had been protected from the rain by one wing of the monoplane. then he flung a match into the now highly inflammable stubble, and a flame leaped up at once, lighting the monoplane and the two wounded germans. in a moment more he was in his place and the monoplane was plunging along the ground. then it took the air and rose swiftly to a safe height. and then for the first time there was a chance for explanations. "by jove, how did you come to think of flashing that message to me?" cried greene. "that was an idea! i almost gave it all away by answering before i realized what you were telling me. what was that fire i saw? looked to me like the very place you said you were going to." so frank explained. "oh, splendid--my word, splendid!" cried greene. "i fancy we'll find they've started this way already. hullo--yes, by jove, there come some of our fellows now! see, over there to the right? aeroplanes--gone to spot those johnnies. they didn't wait for us to come back!" he dropped to a bare hundred feet of elevation now and in a moment frank could see why. below them a mass of cavalry was in motion. "there they go!" cried greene. "your beacon gave them the line. the general must have decided that was confirmation enough." now came a shouting from below, and greene answered it by swooping down to a landing in the field. an officer put his horse to the wall and rode up beside them. "captain greene, by any chance?" he called, peering at them. "yes, colonel," said greene, saluting. "the germans are in a clump of woods on the amiens road. in an angle of that road and the one from lafere, rather. i don't know the exact strength, but have reason to believe about five thousand." "there's no doubt about their being there, though?" "none at all, sir. they shot a hole in my tank, and i had to wait to get enough essence to come back. all mine leaked before i could make a landing to plug the bullet hole. did you start on the sight of that burning house?" "yes. the staff couldn't see why a house should be burning unless there were germans about. very well. report back to headquarters, captain. they're waiting for you." "very well, sir." "i thought so," he said to frank, when they were in the air again. "you'll hear more of this night's work before you've done, my boy. there's a deal of gratitude due you. but i'd like to know what those dutchmen were up to!" five minutes more saw them landed safely at headquarters, and it was only a few moments before they were in the presence of general smith-derrien. he listened to greene's brief report in silence. "there is more to be told of what my passenger and observer did, sir," he added, when he had sketched the essential facts. "i will make a written report of that direct to you." "do so," said the general. "you have done very well. had it not been for the information we have obtained in this way, the whole headquarters staff might have been captured. the germans evidently learned, through spies, of the orders that had been issued for continuing the retirement, and had slipped this force through to intercept the staff. i have been able to turn the tables on them, however. they will have trouble, i think, in escaping the forces sent against them." for some time heavy firing had been heard in the direction of the woods where the germans had lain. now this died away. general smith-derrien glanced significantly at a colonel of his staff and permitted himself the luxury of a smile, a rare one for him in those days of the retreat. just then the telephone on his table rang. the nearest officer answered, listening attentively for a moment. "colonel mewbray using the field telephone, sir," he said to the general. "it's been connected with our wires here. he reports that the horse artillery completely surrounded the wood in which the germans were quartered, and shelled the woods for ten minutes. after that the germans ceased firing, and when we played searchlights a dozen white flags were shown. the german commander, general von garnst, surrendered to avoid a further useless sacrifice of lives." the general nodded. "my compliments to colonel mewbray," he said. "ask him to convey my thanks to brigadier-general lannin. the german prisoners will be placed on trains at once and sent to paris, through amiens. the staff will prepare at once to take the new position as indicated in the order of to-night. orderly!" "yes, sir!" said a private, stepping forward. "my motor is to be ready in five minutes." "yes, sir." the orderly went to transmit the order. then the general turned to frank and held out his hand. "i shall see to it that you and your companion boy scout are mentioned in dispatches," he said. "i shall also see to it that your scoutmaster is informed of your excellent work, and shall request him to give you the highest possible promotion for distinguished services!" chapter xv the retreat frank felt that he was dismissed, and a gentle pressure on his arm from captain greene made him sure of it. the aviator went out with him, and when they were outside he slapped him on the back. "well, you've got a right to feel proud of yourself!" he said. "and the general doesn't begin to know all you did. he will, though, as soon as he gets my report. i'll write that directly because there's no telling what will happen any time i go up. you've seen something of how it goes in a monoplane." "i wonder what i'm to do now," said frank. "go away from here as quickly as you can," said greene, with a laugh. "i can tell you that much. that's what we've been doing ever since they smashed us at mons, in belgium. you see those beggars creep out, trying to get around us. the frenchmen made a bad guess at the beginning, and sent too many men to alsace, and so this chap von kluck had enough men to threaten to surround us. but his turn's coming!" "when?" asked frank. "ask me something easy! before very long, though, i think. we'll be south of amiens by to-morrow. we've got to wait until we get enough men. but there's a surprise coming to the germans. if i told you any more i'd be shot at daybreak for betraying military secrets. good luck, young 'un! sorry you're not going to be with us in the flying corps!" "good-bye," said frank. then he went to look for henri, and found him in the same room in which they had first been received by major cooper. henri started up with a cry of delight at seeing him and embraced him, in the french fashion, to the huge amusement of the englishmen present and frank's own disgust and embarrassment. but he tried to hide how he felt, for he knew that henri was only doing what he had been brought up to regard as the proper thing, and he would not have hurt his chum's feelings for the world. "you two youngsters have got to get back to amiens," said the major. "for one thing because the germans will be here as soon as we get out, and for another because i want you to take some dispatches to the french staff there. can either of you drive a motor?" "i can," said henri, proudly. "really? all right. i'd rather not spare a man. you will take these dispatches in the same containers in which they were brought, and deliver them to colonel menier, if he is still in amiens. if not, to major fremille. you will also turn over the motor car to the french authorities there. shall you stay in amiens after that, even if the french leave, which they will?" "yes, sir, unless there is something we can do elsewhere." "i rather think you'll be able to do more there than anywhere else, if the germans don't drive you out. but you'll hear of that from the french officer you report to. by the way, when i spoke of the convoy that resisted a uhlan attack, you didn't tell me you'd had anything to do with that. why not?" "we didn't, sir," said frank, surprised. "we got away just as the fighting began." "yes, and sorry to go, too, i'll wager! captain hardy reported that it was your quickness and intelligence that saved him, and enabled him to get help up in time to save the convoy. something about the hands of a clock you saw moving, eh?" "that was nothing, sir," said frank. "i just happened to see that they'd moved, when a minute before the clock had seemed to have stopped." "maybe it was nothing, but we hadn't got on to it before. and if they've been doing that at all steadily it accounts for the way they've been able to drop shells on to what we supposed were concealed positions. they shelled the house the staff was in two days ago. we're giving them a good fight, but they beat us pretty badly when it comes to spying. if we had a few more people with eyes as quick as yours, we'd be better off. come on, i'll take you out and see you started." as they reached the street they saw general smith-derrien climbing into a great automobile that started off at once, moving south toward paris. what little they had seen of him had already made them conceive a great admiration for the silent british commander, who only a few days later was to be honored as the first brilliant figure of the war on the allied side. it was for his very conduct of this retreat that field marshal french, the british commander-in-chief, selected him for special mention in his dispatches. they had to wait a few minutes while major cooper attended to the details of getting a car for them. "oh, frank," said henri, wistfully, "i wish i'd been the one to go! though i wouldn't have done so well, i'm sure of that." "nonsense! you'd have done as well, and better," said frank. "no! but think of what you have done for france, for what is done for the english now is done for france as well. i am glad the english are fighting with us now, instead of against us. i--" major cooper's return interrupted him. "here's your car coming now," he said. "you'll have to take a long way around. there are troops, or will be, on all the direct roads, and, besides, bridges are being blown up fast. take the road that leads to abbeville, over toward the sea. use your own judgment about when you turn south, but keep moving toward the west until you are very close to abbeville. after that you will have a fairly clear course. we haven't any reason to think that the germans are in that direction at all as yet, though where they may be to-morrow no one knows. i needn't tell you to keep your eyes open. but if you do run into germans, don't try to get away. there's very little chance of their finding the papers you carry, and, if they do, it is not important enough for us to want you to run any great risk. if you see them coming, hide at once. the motor doesn't matter." henri took the driver's seat and frank sprang in beside him. and henri, feeling that he had been pushed a little into the background, started the motor at once. he really could drive a car, having learned from his father years before, and he soon showed, when he had made himself familiar with the details of his machine, that he was to be trusted with it. and so, with a blast of his horn, he made a quick turn and sent the car roaring into the night. that was only to show off, however, for in a moment he muffled his engine, and the car spun along almost in silence, the motor purring evenly, as if to show that it was in perfect trim and ready to give the car all the speed that was needed. the rain had stopped by this time, but the roads were still muddy and greasy, and at first, too, there was a good deal of traffic. guns and men were moving, and, moreover, there was another danger. the german guns had evidently moved up, and a shell fell near them once in a while, but not so near as to bother them. after a few miles of travelling, however, they found the road freer, and found also that the sound of the rear guard engagement that was covering the british retreat was further off. five miles saw them riding through fields where twinkling lights showed the presence of troops, and they were stopped by a french guard. the pass major cooper had given them got them through, and the soldiers laughed and chatted while an officer was examining it. these were fresh troops, hurriedly brought up to hold off the germans while the exhausted british retired to new positions, and they were gay, light-hearted fellows. true, they had not yet been in action, but to frank it seemed that they were likely to be jovial after they had heard bullets singing over their heads. "they don't seem to feel bad," said henri. "and it is the same with the english. they are retreating, and still they are cheerful." "you say that as if it was something remarkable!" said frank, with a laugh. "of course they're cheerful. they've got faith in their leaders, and they know, i suppose, that a retreat is often necessary. they'll turn the tables before long." "it seems strange to be where it is so quiet," said frank, when they had finally passed beyond sound of the skirmishing on the extreme left of the allied line, formed by the french force through which they had passed. "i'm expecting to see germans every time we make a turn." "so am i," said henri. "and why shouldn't we? if they are trying to turn the allied flank, we're as likely to see them in this direction as not." "look here," said frank, "you're perfectly right. we haven't got orders to make particularly good time. let's keep on right to abbeville. that's at the mouth of the somme. then we can turn toward boulogne. if there are germans around here at all they'll be in that direction. we might get some trace of their cavalry. or we might do what we did before, strike some of their infantry. i don't think we're so likely to do that, though." "we'll try it, anyhow," said henri. and so they turned toward st. pol, instead of making the sharp turn at right angles that would have brought them to amiens. here there were traces, indeed, of a german invasion. peasants, alarmed by the reports of uhlans seen at arras and near boulogne, were in full flight. "we needn't bother about that," said frank. "anything that these people know the intelligence department has found out. no troops advancing at all openly could get by the aeroplanes without being seen. and i think the railroad in this direction has been watched. i saw a lot of aeroplanes flying over this way this afternoon, and there would be more from boulogne. there are english warships there, i've heard, and their naval flyers would cover this part of the country." suddenly henri slowed down the car. he kept one hand on the wheel, the car moving slowly forward, but his gaze was fixed on the sky. finally he stopped the car altogether. "look up there," he said, quietly, to frank. "do you see that light? first i thought it was a star. but there aren't any other stars, and now i'm sure it's moving. do you see?" he pointed, and frank's eyes followed his finger. "you're right," he said. "hello! now it's gone--no, there it is again! see, it flashes and then disappears! it's some sort of a signal from the air. keep the car still." he tried to follow the flashes of the light, hoping to read the message if it was in morse code. but he soon found that it was not. and then henri cried out sharply. "if it's a signal, it's being answered from over there!" he said. "see, there's a light waving there. it looks as if it might be from the roof of a house. i--" chapter xvi a daring exploit frank leaped out. "turn the car around first," he said. henri obeyed. "now try your starter. cut out the motor and then see if she starts quickly." henri, mystified, obeyed. "why?" he asked. "because when we want to start, we may have to do it in an awful hurry," said frank. he searched the road for a moment. "run her back a few feet to where that big tree is. it's darker there than anywhere else around here. all right, that's far enough. we'll have to take the chance of something coming along while we're gone and bumping into her but i don't believe there's much risk of that. now, come on! and quiet! we've got to get up to that place without being seen." cautiously they approached the house. no lights showed in any of its windows; the place looked deserted. indeed, all around it were traces of hasty flight. it was a wayside inn, of a type common always in france, commoner than ever since the spread of the craze for automobiles and motor touring. suddenly frank stopped. "wait a minute for me," he said. "i've got to go back to the car. i ought to have thought of it before." "what do you want?" "batteries. i saw a coil of wire in the car and i want that, too. and there must be batteries. a car like this would carry everything needed for small repairs, wouldn't it?" "yes. i think you'll find them under my seat." frank was back in less than five minutes. "all right," he said. "i don't know whether we'll have time to do what i want or not, and whether i'll be able to do it, anyhow. but it's worth trying. now come on past the house. easy! this is the hardest part of it." they slipped by. however, frank uttered a suppressed exclamation as soon as they had done so. before them, on the right of the road was a field easily two or three times as large as the ordinary french field. as a rule the land in france is split up into very small sections, closely cultivated. but here was a cleared field as large as those commonly seen in england or america, with no fences for perhaps a quarter of a mile in any direction. henri turned to look back at the inn. "they're still signalling from there--and look! there are two lights now, instead of one, above!" these lights were still some distance away. frank studied them. then he led the way into the field. "i thought so!" he said, with suppressed triumph in his voice. "do you see those barrels over there toward the inn? there's petrol in those--or i'll eat my shirt!" "and if there is?" said henri. "what then?" "can't you guess? what do you suppose those lights mean?" "aeroplanes?" "never! they wouldn't flash that way. they'd have to be in a different position entirely. no. dirigibles!" "zeppelins?" "perhaps. perhaps parsevals or schutte-lanz airships. i think parsevals, for they need gasoline. and zeppelins could fly from brussels or liege, almost from cologne--oh, i have it! that's why they need petrol!" "why?" "they haven't flown over belgium at all! they are from the sea!" "oh--so that they could come secretly, and not be seen as they passed over belgium?" "yes. if they flew over belgium they would have to cross some territory that the germans do not hold, and word would go to antwerp and from there to the army here. now quickly! they will be here soon. they are coming nearer every minute." they went to the barrels as fast as they dared. there was nearly a score of them, all close together. each had a tap, and it was proof enough that they contained petrol to open the tap of one. the smell identified them beyond any doubt whatever. "come on, and help me dig a hole," said frank. he dropped to his knees, and began scooping out the soft earth with his hands. henri fell to with a will, though he was sadly puzzled. but when the hole had been dug to a depth of perhaps two feet, and frank began to hollow out a trench toward the barrels he began to understand. and as soon as he did, he worked as hard as frank himself, careless of torn finger nails and bleeding hands. they carried the trench to the foot of one of the barrels, and frank turned the tap. the gasoline ran out into the trench, and flowed to the hole. frank ran back to the hole. "stop it when i give the word," he said. "now!" then he was busy with the copper wire he had brought from the automobile for several minutes. the wire had been carried either to repair cut telegraph or telephone wires, or to serve as the conductor for a field system of lighting. but whatever its original purpose had been, frank was thankful now that he had found it. he worked fast, and was satisfied at last. "now a little straw and a few twigs over the hole and the trench--and the sooner they come, the better!" "yes, the sooner, the better!" echoed henri, tremendously excited, now that he understood, even if rather vaguely, what frank planned. "vive la france! a bas les allemands!" as they went back toward the road frank trailed the wire behind him in two lengths. and when they reached the road, he dropped into the ditch, and was busy for some minutes. "now if it only works!" he said. "perhaps it will; perhaps it won't. but it can't do any harm. that's certain." "they're coming closer. i think i can see their shapes now--and there are two of them," said henri. "do you see?" for a moment frank could not. henri's eyes were sharper than his. but then he did make out vaguely two immense shapes that were coming through the air. soon, too, the faint hum of their powerful motors made itself heard. "zeppelins and big fellows, too," said frank. "all the better!" he wondered if his plan would work, and if he would be able to carry it out. if, in the final test, would he dare to do what he had tried to arrange? time enough to think of that when the moment for decision came. and meanwhile there were a hundred things that might happen to ruin his plan. there was nothing to do now but wait. but every moment of waiting brought the climax nearer. the hum of the motors of the airships rose louder on the quiet air, broken only by the faint and distant mutter of the battle that was still being fought miles away. it sounded now like the buzzing of a swarm of bees, magnified a thousand times. and then the field was full of men, rushing from the inn. he wondered how they could have been concealed there. but such wonder was idle, and he did not think of it. instead he watched keenly. first one monstrous aerial battleship came to rest on the earth. at once the men in the field surrounded her, seizing the ropes that were flung out, and made her fast. there was a good deal of noise. men were calling in german of course. but soon order was restored, and the only voices were those giving commands. suddenly frank's face lighted up. "did you understand, henri?" he said. "the men in the field are to be the crews for the fighting. they have sailed here with only enough men to steer them. and now all are ordered out, to stretch their legs!" "yes, i heard that order," said henri. "now keep your eyes glued to them. what are they doing?" they listened and watched intently. "just as i thought," said frank. "see, they are going to fill the tanks. there, they are attaching hose. and they have a pump--they surely must have a pump, to send the petrol uphill!" meanwhile the other airship had come down, on the other side of the barrels, and there as nearly as they could judge, the same procedure was carried out. "watch, henri! are they pumping?" cried frank. "yes!" said henri. "now--now--now is your time, francois!" frank hesitated the fraction of a second. "if it meant killing them, i could not do it," he said, solemnly. "but they are all out of the airships. now!" on the word he closed the circuit he had made by connecting the loose ends of the wire he had carried from his petrol filled hole to the two batteries he had brought from the car. he had broken the circuit at the other end, leaving the two wires separated by the fraction of an inch, and cunningly held in place. the result was a spark--or would be, if he had not erred. and he had made no mistake! for as he closed the circuit, he saw a flash of flame at the spot where he and henri had dug the hole into which the petrol had flowed from the barrel they had opened. the spark had fired the explosive gas that results when petrol is mixed with air. the flame ran along the shallow trench, and, amid a chorus of shrieks from the germans who scattered in all directions, the fire reached the barrel. in a moment there was a loud explosion. the flame flew to the other barrels--the whole neighborhood of the barrels, owing to the mixture of the petrol and the air, was then filled with an explosive and inflammable gas. there was a great flash of flame, broken by a dozen sharp reports as one barrel after another blew up. and still, though the germans were flying in all directions, plainly visible in the light of the blazing gasoline, the real success of frank's plan hung in the balance. but then what he had calculated happened. the flame ran through the lines of hose. and a moment later two great shafts of flame marked the spread of the fire to the helpless monsters of the air. there was no chance to save them. indeed, even the germans had no other thought than to save their own lives. their raid, whatever its ultimate object, was ruined and two vessels of the great air fleet of the kaiser were destroyed. for a moment after the final catastrophe the two scouts stayed, caught by the wonder and the magnificence of the ruin they had wrought. but then frank cried out, "come on! we haven't a moment to lose! they'll know that that was no accident! some came running this way. they'll find the wires! and then they'll know. the wires will bring them here. hurry!" they began running desperately toward the automobile. chapter xvii the escape their one chance of escape, as they both realized fully, was to get back to their automobile before the germans recovered themselves sufficiently to begin searching for those who had brought such swift and terrible disaster upon their enterprise. and so they made no effort to move quietly or secretly now. to do so would have meant delay and delay was what they could not afford. the distance seemed far greater than when they had first traversed it. it seemed that they would never pass the house which the germans had used as a base. but finally they reached it. and as they did so a door burst open, and they saw a light within. a man, with the cap of a german officer, though otherwise he wore civilian clothes, came rushing out, tugging at his pistol. he had heard them running. by some bad chance, then, there had been a man--a german--left in the inn! "stop!" he cried, furiously. but they kept on running. he could not see them, dazzled as he was by coming from the lighted house into the deep darkness of the road. but he was in front of them, and they slowed up, instinctively, though they still ran. and then they came into the light of the door. he started back. "kinder!" he cried. "children!" it was the exclamation of the uhlan who had stopped them in the afternoon. but now it was uttered in a vastly different tone. the german was beside himself with rage. perhaps he had had some heavy share of responsibility for the safety of the zeppelins. but whether that were so or not, he was plainly maddened by the sight of the boys. he could scarcely have understood how completely they were responsible, but the way they were running and the direction whence they came proved only too clearly that they had had some hand in it. "stop, henri!" cried frank, suddenly. "we can't get away. we surrender!" they stopped. frank was obeying the order major cooper had given him. perhaps, had he been alone, he would have risked a further attempt to escape. but there was no doubt that the german meant to shoot, and he could not expose henri to the risk. they stopped full in the path of light that came from the open door of the inn. behind them, in the road, voices were raised. it was plain that their wires had been followed, and that others were in pursuit. and, after all, frank felt they could afford to grin at being made prisoners now. they had accomplished a great feat. even if they were caught, that was to their credit. and then suddenly he gave a cry of horror. henri was a little ahead of him for he had not been able to stop as abruptly as frank. and the german officer, too furious, perhaps, to think of what he was doing, raised his pistol and fired point-blank at the french boy! he fired--but there came from his pistol not a sharp report, but only the dull click as the hammer fell. twice more he pulled the trigger. but something was wrong. he had made a fatal error--his revolver was unloaded. but it was only by the luckiest of accidents that henri was still alive. frank had seen the murderous attempt, and now rage mastered him for the moment. "you coward!" he shrieked. he flung himself at the german officer, who was trying frantically to get at his cartridges. so sudden was the attack that he was taken utterly by surprise. before he could defend himself, frank was wrenching his arm. a moment more, and the german officer squealed like a frightened pig, for frank had succeeded in getting a hammer lock on him. he pulled at the revolver with his other hand, and at last the german, to escape a broken arm, had to loosen his grip. even a weakling can cripple the strongest man if he once gets that hold. and frank, in his rage at the cowardly thing he had seen, was almost a match for the full grown man in any case. as soon as he got the revolver he let go of the german's arm. but before the officer could move, frank had clubbed the pistol and struck him sharply on the head. he went down like a log. "run, henri, run!" he cried. "they're coming up behind us! run for the car!" behind them, indeed, the footsteps of running men were plainly to be heard. a shot rang out, but both boys had turned instinctively to the side of the road and were running low in the ditch beside the highway. they could not be seen, and the firing ceased. it seemed that most of the men were unarmed, or carried revolvers at the most. had there been rifles behind them, they would have had no chance. but as it was, they reached their car and leaped in. henri threw the switch of the electric starter, the motor leaped into throbbing life, and they were off. behind them more shots were fired, but the aim was wild. and they sped away, at fifty miles an hour, pursued only by a few vain revolver bullets, and by a chorus of shouts and yells of rage and execration. "the coward!" stormed frank. he had never been so angry in his life. "he might have killed you, harry! and just because he was in a rage over what had happened to the airships! he didn't even know that you'd had anything to do with it--not positively! and we'd already surrendered." henri laughed--and he meant the laugh. it was not affectation. he had faced his danger in the true spirit of the frenchman, who is as brave in action as any man in the world. "eh, well!" he said. "he did not shoot me, so what does it matter? that was a fine crack on the head you gave him! he will remember us, i think, next time he sees us." frank shuddered a little. "i hope not!" he said. "or, that if he does, he will be a prisoner himself, and won't be able to try to get even." frank remembered the look of sheer devilish rage in the eyes of the german. it was not pleasant to think that they might meet again. "if it is to be, it will be," said henri. "i bear him no grudge! he had cause to be angry--ma foi, yes! the kaiser will not say pretty things when he hears of what we did to-night, francois!" "no!" frank laughed. "i wonder where those airships were meant to go? paris? they could have done terrible damage. perhaps they were to attack the army--to lie behind its course, knowing that our aeroplanes would be scouting on the front. they might have made it harder than ever to retreat in good order. but i think they would have gone to paris. i think that they would have been there before daylight." "and now--pouf!" said henri. "what is left of them? not so much as would fill a barrel!" once all danger of pursuit was past, henri had slowed down the speed of the car. both scouts were thoroughly tired out by this time. they had had a strenuous day, and a night that merited the description of strenuous even more fully than the day. and now that danger seemed to lie behind them, and a clear road to safety in front, their weariness was realized fully for the first time. they could hardly have escaped the germans, had any lain between abbeville and amiens. but none were there, as it turned out. the road was clear and open before them, and the car rolled along smoothly. "the firing seems to be moving now--moving to the southeast," said henri, once. "i think our left wing is being drawn in a little. that will tighten up the line. but it gives the germans still more chance to get around the wing." "we can bring up french troops to meet them, frank. there is the garrison of paris--nearly five hundred thousand men. they have not struck a blow yet. but if the germans come too near, they will be brought up to the first line." "i believe that's what the french plan is, harry!" said frank. "yes, why not? to lead the germans on and then take the risk of leaving paris defended only by its forts, and try a new flanking movement of their own. do you see? a new army, which could outflank the germans while they thought they were outflanking us!" the thought cheered them up wonderfully. it made it possible for them to bear the sight of amiens, left without a single soldier of the republic, when they arrived. chapter xviii in the hands of the enemy the days that followed the return of frank and henri to amiens were busy but uneventful ones. they had found a few staff officers at the abandoned headquarters, including colonel menier, to whom they had made their report and turned over the automobile. he had thanked them heartily, having heard already of their work. and when he was told of the destruction of the zeppelins he had embraced them both. "we had heard already of that," he said. "only of the burning of the ships, not of how it was done. you have done well for france, mes braves! wait! you shall not find france ungrateful. i go to paris from here, to make reports. i shall make one concerning you, to those in authority. and--who knows?" he pinched their ears, that gesture loved of french soldiers since the days of the great napoleon, of whom his officers said that when he pinched their ears he conferred an honor they valued more highly than the cross of the legion d'honneur. after the departure of the last officers of the staff, amiens took on a new aspect. the thunder of guns, even the rolling of rifle fire, was plainly to be heard now in the streets. in the distance--and not a great distance, either--the smoke of a dozen burning villages was to be seen to the north and east. it was so that the germans marked their advance, steady, relentless. henri exclaimed in fury at the sight. "these barbarians of germans!" he cried. "burn and kill--and not soldiers alone!" "it tears my heart-strings to see all this wanton destruction indulged in by the foe," said frank. "what then must be the feelings of the french as they watch their villages being so ruthlessly burned! but some day, somehow, henri, our chance will come and the french will sweep back into this territory, a victorious host. not for long will it be in the power of our foe!" every day amiens expected the incursion of the germans, but day followed day and still the enemy did not come. frank and henri stayed in the martin house alone. the servants had gone; madame martin had respected their fears of the prussians, and had made other arrangements for them. so the two scouts camped out there, and henri invited many of the other scouts to share their quarters in relays. the house was open, too, to any refugees who cared to use it, but by this time the country to the north that was in danger of german raids had been swept clear, and amiens was no longer a gathering place. it was in itself too much exposed. the smoke of burning villages rose now to the south, toward paris. the retreat was still on, it seemed. and while they waited patiently, since there was nothing else to do, for the coming of the germans, there was much work for the boy scouts to do. it was routine work now, very different from the exciting labors that had fallen to the share of frank and henri on the day of their trip to le cateau. when henri became restless and impatient, as he sometimes did, frank soothed him. "we are still serving france," he said. "there are no more soldiers in amiens. there are a few police, and those are old men, since the young gendarmes have gone to join their regiments. but monsieur le maire knows that he can call upon us." the military authorities, before completing the evacuation of amiens, had given strict orders that if the germans came there was to be no resistance. and in order to enforce this rule, the mayor detailed the few remaining police and the boy scouts to make a house-to-house canvas, warning the citizens, and collecting all firearms that might be found. the scouts worked in pairs on this duty, and frank and henri always went together. "in belgium," one of them always explained, in making the demand that the arms be given up, "louvain and other towns were destroyed, so that not one stone remained upon another. and always the germans made the excuse that shots had been fired on their men from the houses. here in amiens we must save our cathedral and the other famous buildings. when the germans come it will not be for long; soon they will be in retreat before the armies of france and england." many gave up their guns reluctantly. but nearly all did give them up, and whenever the scouts had reason to think that any were being concealed, they made a special report on the house, and policemen returned to make a search. and this wise planning had much to do with saving the town. the germans came at last. at first a single squadron of uhlans, in command of a young lieutenant, rode in. frank and henri saw them passing their house and they mounted bicycles at once, and followed them. "they've nerve," admitted henri, reluctantly. "see with what arrogance they sit their horses! they might be riding into a german city instead of one in which everyone who sees them hates them!" "yes, they've nerve," agreed frank. there could be no question of the fact. the little squadron of troopers, almost swallowed up already in the crowd of curious ones who followed the slow movement of the horses, rode on, seemingly deaf to the mutters of execration that rose, especially from the women. not a man turned his face from the front even to scowl at the townspeople. they rode on, eyes unswerving. outside the hotel de ville they stopped. a bugler blew a fanfare, and monsieur le maire, in his robes of office, appeared on the steps. a great cheer from the people greeted him. he bowed gravely to the uhlan lieutenant, who saluted stiffly. "i demand the surrender of the town of amiens, in the name of his majesty the kaiser and of the german empire," said the lieutenant, in excellent french. "you, monsieur le maire, will consider yourself my prisoner. you will be held responsible for the conduct of the inhabitants. any attack on german troops will be sternly punished. if the inhabitants of amiens behave in a peaceable and orderly fashion they will not be harmed. payment will be made for any private property required by our forces. a brigade of infantry will march in this afternoon. quarters must be found for the troops, numbering nearly eight thousand men. you will be informed later of the requisition the town will be required to fill, in money and in supplies. for the present you are required to clear this square, where my men will remain." the mayor bowed. "my orders are to make no resistance," he said. "i bow to the inevitable, regretting that we are not permitted to defend ourselves to the death. amiens will keep its faith. no attack will be made, since that would mean treachery. i will order the gendarmes and the boy scouts to clear the square." frank and henri were of great assistance in doing this work, frank taking the lead, since no patrol leader happened to be in evidence. they and the police soon drove the people back, and the uhlans dismounted. there, in the public square, used as a market place, they proceeded to cook a meal, making a fire in the street. from the sides of the square the people watched them sullenly. but there was no demonstration, since both the police and the scouts had explained that anything of the sort was likely to mean the execution of the mayor, who was within the power of the enemy. as soon as the public curiosity to see the hated invaders had been somewhat satisfied, the people were urged to go to their homes, and by mid afternoon the streets were deserted. then began the entrance of the real force of occupation. at the head rode a general of brigade, a sombre, stern-eyed man, accompanied by his staff. and behind him marched thousands of green-gray german infantry keeping step with a marvelous precision. these men had been fighting hard, but they looked fresh and trim. and as they marched they sang, raising their deep voices in a splendid, thrilling chorus. _fly, eagle, fly_, they sang as they marched into town. and then they gave way to the magnificent hymn of martin luther, the battle song of the protestant nations in the thirty years' war, the battle song of prussia ever since that time, _a mighty fortress is our god!_ henri watched them as they marched by, tears in his eyes. finally he could suppress the thought no longer, and he turned to frank with: "they have said that germany has fine soldiers, but they are not like our men! there's all the difference in the world between them--and that difference will bring victory to our banners. our men fight for right; these men fight because they think it their duty." "even though they are the foe, i hope there will be no shooting at them here. if there is, they will show no mercy, i am sure of that," said frank. "amiens has pledged its honor," replied henri quietly. "they are safe here. will they harm monsieur le maire? oh, do you think they will harm him?" "no, i think not if there is no resistance offered. i wonder if any will be quartered at your house, henri?" "i hope not," said henri, flushing. a change, as it turned out, was made in that plan. the general in command of the brigade, who proclaimed himself within an hour of his arrival as military governor of amiens, decided to keep his men under canvas. tents sprang up like mushrooms in the parks and open spaces. amiens was required to furnish great quantities of foodstuffs--bread, flour, wine, meat. but the troops were not quartered in the houses. and by nightfall the town seemed to have settled down peacefully to the new conditions. german aeroplanes were flying constantly overhead; officers came in, and more troops. "amiens is again the headquarters of an army corps," said frank. he was suffering almost as keenly as henri, but he did not mean to let his chum brood upon the disaster that had overtaken his home. and, after all, it might have been worse. he thought of louvain and other belgian cities. that night amiens was a german city. trains passed through continually now, bearing troops; some, returning, carried wounded, whose groans resounded in the silence. and in the distance to the south, toward paris, the roar of guns seemed louder again. chapter xix recognition! even the enemy, the hated germans, found that the boy scouts were useful. there was constant danger of an outbreak, and the germans had no desire to destroy amiens. had they been attacked from the houses, they would have lost heavily; in house-to-house fighting civilians, battling at close range, can inflict great damage on the best of regular troops. such an outbreak would have meant the killing and the wounding of hundreds of german soldiers. the punishment would have been terrible, indeed, but that would not have brought a single prussian back to life--a single bavarian, rather, since these were bavarian troops. the boy scouts served as intermediaries between the germans and the french civil authorities. they carried messages, and, at the order of the mayor, they submitted themselves to the orders of the german staff when it was necessary to explain a new decree to the citizens. they had many other things to do, also. it was largely the scouts who saw to the gathering of the supplies requisitioned by the germans. the enemy had been inexorable in this respect; they set a definite time limit for the filling of every requisition they made, and it was well understood that drastic measures would be taken were they not satisfied. each day a new group of hostages was taken into the hotel de ville, now occupied as headquarters by the german staff, rather than the buildings formerly used by the second corps d'armee of france. these hostages, it was explained, would be shot at once if orders were not obeyed or if germans were attacked. there were many irksome rules. every citizen was required to salute a german officer whenever he saw him. lights must be out at a certain hour each night, and after that hour any citizen found in the streets without a permit was liable to arrest and execution without trial. they were under martial rule. but always the sound of heavy firing in the southeast continued. "i really believe the great battle is being fought at last, henri!" said frank. "we have heard that firing now for three days. it comes from the direction of the marne. there is another thing. since yesterday no troop trains have gone south through amiens." "but empty trains go through!" cried henri. "and they come back, loaded with german wounded! you are right, francois! we have begun to drive the prussians back to the rhine!" news they had none. all amiens was cut off from the world. whatever the german invaders knew they kept strictly to themselves. it was only by such inferences as they could draw from the sound of firing in the direction of paris and by the passage of trains through the city that they were able to form any opinion at all. "i feel sure that there's a real battle going on," said frank. "the firing is too heavy and too continuous for a rear guard action. but as to who is winning, we can't tell. sometimes the firing seems to be a little nearer again, but that might be because of the wind. and as for the trains that are going through, that doesn't really mean anything. they might have decided to send troops to the front by another railway. they control the line through rheims, too." but the morning after they had decided that there was no real way to tell what was happening, something definite did come up. nearly all the troops in amiens moved south. only a few hundred remained, enough to garrison the town and control the railway, since there seemed no danger of an allied raid. but the fact that the other troops were being sent up to the front indicated that the fighting was assuming a character far more desperate than the germans had expected. "they must be fighting on the line of the river marne," said frank. "you see, during that long retreat, there was time to entrench there. and open field entrenchments seem to be better than fortified places. look at how quickly namur fell, when everyone thought it would hold the germans back for days." "the country there is difficult, too," said henri. "my father said once that it was there that the garrison of paris should have fought first in , instead of waiting inside the forts for the prussians to come." "i think that everything favors us now, for the first time," said frank. "the germans have been winning--they have made a wonderful dash through belgium and france. they must have got very close to paris. i believe the roar of guns is as easy to hear in paris as here. and then, suddenly, when they think they are to have it all their own way, their enemy turns and faces them, and holds them. that much we may be sure of. the battle has been raging now for four days at least, perhaps for five. and the firing has certainly not gone further away. even if we are not gaining, it is a gain if the germans cannot advance." they were glad now that they were busy. a few refugees from the south were coming, driven back by the germans. perhaps they would rather have tried to reach paris, but the battle stopped that. and always there were errands to be run, and messages to be carried. it went against the grain to obey the orders of german officers, and to be obliged to salute these officers whenever they were encountered, but it was necessary. and the scouts of amiens, when they knew what their duty was, did it, no matter how unpleasant it might be. now the troops who formed the garrison of amiens changed almost daily. older men were now in the tents, and some young boys. "the last classes of their reserves must have been called out," said frank. "these are not first line troops that are up, but the ones who are supposed to guard lines of communication and to garrison interior fortresses." there were times when more officers than men seemed to be in the town. amiens seemed to be used as a point where shipments of supplies and of ammunition for troops at the front were concentrated and diverted to the various divisions at the front. this involved the presence of a great number of officers of the commissariat department, who seemed to work night and day. men fight best on a full stomach, and the germans understood this thoroughly, and saw to it that their soldiers did not have to go into battle hungry. amiens also formed the headquarters of one branch of the german flying corps. here aviators in great numbers were present constantly. damaged monoplanes and biplanes were brought back for repairs. and it was this fact that brought a startling experience to the two scouts. for one day, as they rode on their bicycles on an errand through the square before the hotel de ville, they were arrested by a sudden fierce shout. an officer ran out toward them, his face distorted with anger. and frank, with a sinking heart, recognized him as the man who had fired at henri on the night they had burned the zeppelins. "arrest that boy!" he cried, pointing to henri. "he is a spy! he is a french, spy, i say!" for a moment frank hesitated. then he rode away, leaving henri to his fate. he looked back, to see two germans holding his chum. chapter xx a desperate game frank had sped away because he was afraid that the officer might recognize him in a moment also. and yet it was not fear, in the sense that he was fearful of what might happen to him, that led him seemingly to abandon his comrade. it was the knowledge that were he too a prisoner, there would be no hope for either of them. he knew how the germans must have regarded the destruction of the zeppelins. it was a blow that might prove, when the final accounting was made, to have cost them the success of the invasion of france. and he had no illusions as to the fate of those who might be proved to be responsible for that. technically, they had not acted as spies when they had played the daring trick that had resulted in such a disaster to the german cause. but they had been non-combatants, civilians, and by the laws of war the civilian who takes active measures of any sort against the enemy is liable to death. the german army enforced this rule strictly and invariably. neither age nor sex was a reason for sparing one who had violated it. a woman spy, a boy of fifteen who fired at germans, would alike be made to face a firing squad. no. if he and henri were caught, and this officer, who had already shown his venomous hate for them, was their accuser, they would never live to see the german defeat for which they prayed. frank hoped that henri would understand, that he would know that he had taken to flight because it afforded the only chance of saving him. frank had reasoned quickly. he had been sure that the next move of the german officer would have been to denounce him also. but while the german officer had had a good look at henri on the night of the zeppelin disaster, he had not seen frank. frank had been in the shadow when the officer had tried to murder henri; he had taken the german by surprise, and stunned him. and so there was no way in which the german could know him again, unless he saw him with henri and so leaped to the conclusion that he must also have been with him on the night of disaster. by that process of reasoning frank argued that he might remain free to go about the town. the germans had come to trust the boy scouts, understanding that their honor was pledged when they gave their word, even to an enemy. some of the restrictions applying to the other citizens of amiens did not restrain them. they were allowed to be on the streets after the hour of curfew, for one thing. and between the scouts and a good many of the german privates and younger officers a relation almost friendly had been established. frank, for instance, was welcomed at one bavarian mess, which contained several soldiers who had studied at english schools, and liked a chance to air their knowledge of the english tongue. he hoped to gain some information in this way. nor was he wrong. his friends had heard of the arrest of henri, who, like frank, was popular with them. and it turned out that they had little use for the officer who had caused the arrest. he was known as a tyrant who had more than once during the campaign shot down his own men for slight breaches of discipline. frank learned that he had been degraded for the destruction of the zeppelins, for which he had been held responsible. his superiors had scouted his story of two boys who had burned the dirigibles, and had assumed that he had been careless. therefore frank found it easy to discover where henri was confined. he was to be tried by court-martial early in the morning, and for the night he was in a room on the ground floor of the hotel de ville. "he's only a boy," said a bavarian corporal. "no need to guard him closely. even if he escaped, where could he go? our men are everywhere." frank smiled to himself. he had made a discovery a day or two before that had not escaped his mind. that afternoon he managed to make certain preparations unobserved. and when night came he was ready to hazard his own liberty, and his life, if that should prove to be necessary, in an attempt to rescue henri. he knew the room in which henri was confined. it was on the side of the hotel de ville that overlooked the river. no sentries were posted there, and it was easy for frank to get to a spot directly underneath henri's window. the other bank of the river was well guarded, and that was why no sentries watched the side on which was the town hall. it was argued, frank supposed, that anyone escaping must attempt to swim the river and that when they tried to climb the other bank it would be easy to find them. in principle, too, that was a good idea. what it did not take into account was the discovery that frank had made--and kept to himself. it was just before midnight when he began a faint tapping at henri's window. he used a light bamboo cane, tipped with soft cloth, so that the sound, audible to anyone in the room, would not carry more than a few feet. and he tapped out his signal in the morse code very slowly, knowing that henri would hear and understand. in a few moments there was the sound of the window opening very gently. and then henri slipped down beside him, taking the short drop by hanging from the window with his hands. he seized frank's hand. "i knew you would try to help me," he whispered. "but i had better go back. we cannot escape. there are sentries on the other bank of the somme. they would catch us together, and you would be a prisoner, too." "follow me," said frank. "take off your shoes. drop quietly into the water--make no sound of a splash. swim after me. i shall show you something you do not expect to see." frank slipped into the water. both boys were expert swimmers, and frank, leading the way, slipped along in the deep shadow, without a sound. henri swam after him. at last frank stopped and whispered to henri. "you see this buttress? dive just beyond it, and swim under water for ten feet. put up your hands then, and rise. there will be room." at once he dived and disappeared, and henri followed. when they came to the surface they were in a dark, damp hole, that smelled of slime and filth. but in a moment henri felt steps, and then there was a faint light that illuminated a vault full of water. and, to his wonder, he saw a boat, covered, except at one end, with a dark cloth. "in with you!" whispered frank. "under the cloth, and lie still!" frank followed when henri had obeyed. and then the boat began to move in a direction different from that by which they had entered the vault. "i am pushing it with my hands along the wall," explained frank, still in a whisper. "that will bring us to the opening--the smallest possible that would allow the boat to pass into the stream. then the current will carry us down. i have a rudder, that will hold us in the shadow of the left bank through all the turns. it is a chance--the only one we had. if all goes well, we shall drift down below the city and be safe!" soon they were caught in the current of the somme. there followed a time of terrible and desperate trial and terror. at every shout they heard they thought they had been discovered. never did they dare to raise their heads to look out. their chance was a double one, but of the faintest, at best. perhaps they would not be seen at all; perhaps, even if the boat was seen, no sentry would consider it worth remark. for hours they drifted, unable to tell how far they had gone. frank, guessing their distance by the time it had taken a piece of wood to float a certain distance during the afternoon, had hoped to be well beyond the city when daylight came. but he had not been certain. gradually a faint light crept through the dark, stifling cloth. the temptation to raise it and look out was terrible. but they resisted, speaking only occasionally in whispers. with every minute that passed their chance for success grew greater. and yet at the last minute they might be caught. at last there could be no doubt that the sun was up, and that there was full daylight. and then, suddenly, there was a sharp tug at the boat. with a groan frank started up, and henri too. and what they saw was an amazed french peasant, and all around the smiling country below amiens, which was far behind! chapter xxi vive la france! the peasant listened in amazement to the story that they told him. but he was a real frenchman, out of the army because of his age. "come with me," he said. "you shall have the best there is in my house--it is not much! dry clothes, too. if you will wear a peasant's blouse, there are the clothes my jean left when he went to the war!" "we have clothes in the boat," said frank. "until we knew we were safe we dared not change into them. but your food will be more than welcome!" so it proved, indeed. it was rough fare, but it seemed to both the best that they had ever tasted. and while they ate, the peasant told them what news he had. "we hear that the french and the english are winning now," he said. "a gentleman came past my house in an automobile this morning, and said that he had passed french troops ten miles away--cuirassiers riding this way." "hurrah!" cried frank. "henri, we must try to join them as quickly as possible. when we explain they will let us go through to where we shall be safe until we can go back to amiens. come on! farewell!" this to the peasant. "we shall never forget your good food and your welcome!" and with light hearts they set out, glad to walk, since it gave them a chance to stretch the legs that had been cramped for so many hours in the bottom of the boat. plainly there had been a great change in the character of the battle over night. the heavy thunder of the guns was greatly reduced in volume, though they should still have been able to hear it. and it was unmistakably coming from further north. it must be that the germans were retreating. but they walked for three hours before they knew for certain that they were right. they did not meet the cuirassiers of whom they had heard. instead a cloud of dust that they saw for two miles before men emerged beneath it turned out to be a column of french infantry. they were in their boy scout uniforms, and the men who first saw them at the side of the road cheered them. soon a captain came up to them. "eh bien, mes enfants!" he said. "what do you do here? where do you come from!" they told him amiens, and he laughed. "and it is there, precisely, that we are going!" he laughed. "the germans are out by now and our men were in there an hour ago!" frank and henri cried out in delight at the news. "may we go with you?" asked frank. "we would like to go back as soon as possible." "as to that you must ask the colonel. he will decide--and, see, here he comes now in his automobile! i will report to him that you are here." but there was no need, for the officer who sat in the car was colonel menier himself, and at the sight of them he laughed aloud. "ah, my brave ones!" he cried. "so you are here! ride with me! did the germans drive you from amiens? i shall drive you back!" they obeyed that order with delight. they sprang to their places in the car. "now tell me everything!" said colonel menier. "how it is that you left amiens and how you came here?" he leaned over first, however, and spoke to his driver, and the car shot forward, leaving the troops far behind. and then they began the story, each telling the part of it that he knew best. at the story of how the german officer had recognized henri and caused his arrest, he clenched his hand angrily. "they make war even on boys!" he said, bitterly. "a brave enemy recognizes the heroism of his foes. if i had been in that man's place i should have forgotten my own defeat and praised those who had caused it!" then came the story of frank's discovery of the hidden vault and the boat, and of their voyage down the somme and their lucky escape. "milles tonnerres!" he cried. "a thousand million thunders! that was well done! through all the german sentries! eh, well, i have a surprise for you when you reach amiens with me, i think. mind, i make no promises! only wait!" slow as had been their flight from amiens, their return was swift. already they were in the outskirts. from every window hung the tricolor. everywhere the people were mad with delight. the germans had gone. at the sight of colonel menier's uniform women leaned from their windows, shrieking their joy. in the town itself french troops were everywhere, marching through. guns thundered along, and there were english troops as well as french. amiens was in holiday mood. straight through the cheering crowds the car sped on. it drew up at last before the hotel de ville. sentries stood at the main door, but at the sight of colonel menier they saluted and gave him free passage. inside colonel menier spoke to a staff officer, who smiled and went into a room at the side. in a moment he returned. "the general will receive you, my colonel," he said. "good!" he turned to frank and henri. "you are to meet the greatest man in france," he said. "allons!" they followed him into the room. by the window stood a man, not tall, but large rather than fat. he turned quiet eyes toward them. colonel menier saluted. "monsieur le general joffre," he said. "i have the honor to present the boy scouts of whom you have heard--they who served general smith-derrien so well and who destroyed the zeppelins near abbeville." "these are the ones?" said the general. "in the name of france, i thank you! and in the name of france, and by order of his excellency the president of the republic, i hereby decorate you! for each, the cross of the legion of honor! which is francois barnes?" glancing from one to the other. frank stepped forward. general joffre took the cross from his own breast and pinned it to frank's. then he turned to another officer, and received another cross from him. and this he affixed to henri's breast. for a moment they were overcome. and then together they cried: "_vive la france!_" * * * * * transcriber's notes: obvious punctuation errors have been repaired. one instance each of lafere and la fere have been retained. [illustration] america first [illustration: "i wouldn't go when you dared me to," said the tenderfoot, "but this is--different." and he added in his heart: "this is for _my country_." [_page ._]] america first by frances nimmo greene illustrated by t. de thulstrup charles scribner's sons new york chicago boston copyright, , by charles scribner's sons to my mother's namesake and my own virginia owen greene and frances nimmo greene contents page called to the colors under the flag america first illustrations "i wouldn't go when you dared me to," said the tenderfoot, "but this is--different." and he added in his heart: "this is for _my country_" _frontispiece_ facing page a man was sitting over some sort of instrument "you can't touch rudolph!" she cried. "he's under the flag!" "riego yañez," he said, "i am proud to shake hands with an american hero!" called to the colors this is the story of a "tenderfoot"--of a pink-cheeked, petted lad, and of his first service as a boy scout. danny harding was what his mother's friends termed "wonderfully fortunate," but danny himself took quite another view of his life's circumstances as he hurried home from school one afternoon, an hour before the regular time for dismissal. the day was golden with sunshine, but the boy's spirit was dark. there was singing in the air and singing in the tree tops, but in the heart which pounded against his immaculate jacket were silent rage and despair. the whippoorwill patrol had been called to the colors, and he the untried, the untested tenderfoot would have to remain at home in luxurious security, while the huskier, browner, less-sheltered lads answered their country's call. it was beyond the power of a boy's heart to endure--the mortification--the wild despair of it! they would call him a slacker, a _coward_! but, worse still, his country needed him, and he could not answer! danny brushed away the tears which threatened to blind him, and stumbled on. the call had come through a telegram from the scout master to the boys while they were yet at school, and the teacher had promptly dismissed them to service. the whippoorwills were to leave immediately upon an expedition to the mountains, but just what duty they were called to perform was not stated in the brief message. all they knew was that they were to leave at once for a certain distant mountain-top, there pitch tents and await orders for serious service. on receipt of the news the other boys had rushed off noisily with eager joy to don their khaki uniforms and make ready, but danny had slipped down a by-street--a wounded, a hurt thing, trying to hide his anguish away from mortal sight. he would not be allowed to go--he knew it--for he was the only son of a widowed mother who loved him all too well. he was her all, her idol, and her days had been spent in pampering and shielding him. only a week before, the scouts had gone on a hike together and she had refused absolutely to allow danny to accompany them--the sun would be too hot, he might get poisoned with wild ivy, he would be sure to imbibe fever germs from the mountain spring! no, thought the miserable boy, she would be doubly fearful, doubly unwilling, now that the whippoorwills were to do serious scout duty on death head mountain. danny's soul raged against his soft fate as he stumbled up the side steps of his handsome home and entered his mother's presence. he did not fly to her arms as he was wont to do, but, instead, flung himself into the first convenient chair with a frown. he could not trust himself to speak. but even in that moment of stress danny realized that his mother had not hurried to him for the usual kiss. she was struggling with some sort of bundle, and she only looked up with a quick smile. the next instant, however, the smile of welcome died out of her face, and she stopped suddenly and regarded him with a startled question in her eyes. danny frowned more darkly, and moved uneasily under her searching gaze. he looked away in a vain attempt to hide the tears which had sprung to his eyes. and then came the unexpected: "danny," said his mother, in a voice that sounded new to him, "i received a long-distance phone message from the scout master, and--he said he had wired to the school----" she paused a moment, and then asked: "didn't you get the message?" "yes," said the boy doggedly. there was a pause, and then his mother deliberately put down the bundle she had been working with, and approached. she came and stood before him, with her back to the table as if for support. danny did not look up into her face, though he saw her white, jewelled hands grasping the edge of the table, and they were strained and tense. "my son," she said, "what is the matter with you?" he was too full to answer. "danny," she began again presently and in that new voice, "you won't _do_ this way--you _will not_!" and then suddenly a white, jewelled hand was struck fiercely upon the table, and the new voice exclaimed passionately: "daniel harding, if you sit around and cry like a baby when you are called to the service of your country, i'll--i'll _disown_ you, sir!" "mother!" and danny sprang to her arms. there were a few moments of sobbing, laughing confession from danny, and then his mother explained to him her unexpected change of attitude toward scouting. danger?--yes, of course she knew that this might involve danger to him, but this call was for no frolic--it was to the service of his country! he _was_ her all, everything in the world to her, but the one thing which she could not, would not bear would be to see him turn "slacker" and coward when other mothers' boys--not ten years older than danny--were already on the firing-line in france! "our part in this war is the old fight of ' , danny"--she said to him--"_nothing less than that_! the colonists fought to win independence for america. we are fighting now to save that independence won. and if it takes every man in america--every boy in america--if it takes _you_, danny--there is just one answer for an american to give." and then the two of them hurriedly finished tying up the bundle she had put aside. it was his kit for the expedition! it was a newer, bigger ideal of patriotism which danny harding took with him into his service on death head mountain. his mother, who loved him all too well, had yet sent him from her with nothing short of her positive orders to do his duty like a man. * * * * * the whippoorwill patrol had answered the call to service, and the growing dusk found its members arranging their camp for a night's bivouac in a lonely stretch of woods "somewhere" on the crest of the blue ridge mountains. the scout master had not come, but his orders had, and the whippoorwills were busily engaged in executing them. "camp in mica cove, conceal your fires, and wait for me," the scout master had telegraphed. "you are called to service." so here they were in mica cove, hardily preparing for whatever service to their country it might be theirs to perform, and excitedly guessing at what ominous circumstance had necessitated their sudden calling out. of course, everybody knew that old "death head" must have come into some added evil repute, and would have to be taken in hand. and that they would shortly be scouting over all its lonely trails nobody had any doubt whatever. there were eight of them, for the whole patrol was present. youngest and happiest of them all was the pink-cheeked, petted tenderfoot, danny harding. he was no "slacker," no "coward"! he was here with the others to play a manly part in serving his country, and his mother had sent him from her with a smile! besides danny, there were in the ranks l. c. whitman, nicknamed "elsie," ham and roger gayle, alex batré, ed rowell, and biddie burton--as husky and jolly a bunch as could well be got together. all these were older than danny, and, as all were more or less seasoned to scouting, they were quite disposed to have their fun out of the new recruit. danny took their teasing in good spirit, however, for he felt that it was part of his initiation into their envied circle. they were big boys--brown like the woods of which they had become a part, panther-footed, eagle-eyed, efficient. danny felt that he would be willing to suffer much to become as they. the tenderfoot watched them all to see just how a scout was supposed to act, but it was to willard mckenzie, the resourceful leader of the patrol, that his eyes turned oftenest in frank admiration. mckenzie was the oldest of the bunch--quite seventeen--and five years of scouting had stamped him a man as nature meant him to be. he knew and could answer every bird-call, could follow a wood-trail unerringly, could find himself in any emergency by the chart of the stars above him. he was the trusted friend of every wild thing about him, and brother to every wind that blew. the tenderfoot watched the graceful movements of the leader's indianlike figure, studied his genius for quiet command, and decided promptly to be, one day, a second willard mckenzie. in obedience to mckenzie's orders, the boys built their camp-fire within the cove, where it would be hidden on three sides by peaks which towered above, and on the fourth by a dense thicket. mr. gordon, the scout master, had not come, nor did they know when to expect him. but they knew enough to obey their leader, and this they were proceeding to do. it was a simple matter--getting the camp ready--and the boys thoroughly enjoyed it. as they were to sleep on the ground, rolled in their blankets, they had merely to clear the space about them of underbrush and fallen timber, and build the fire for cooking. of course they talked of war as they worked, for they were scouts in khaki, preparing for action. ed rowell claimed for cousin one of the american engineers who fought their way out of german captivity with their bare fists. batré's older brother was right then cleaving his winged way through clouds of battle in the service of the la fayette escadrille. whitman knew a man who knew a man who was in the th infantry regiment when it made with others that now historic march, knee-deep in french snows. danny said nothing, for he was a quiet, thoughtful lad. but he had vividly in mind a handsome fellow of only eighteen who, until america's declaration of war, had sunday after sunday carried the golden cross up the aisle of the little church of the holy innocents to "onward, christian soldiers." danny had heard his mother say that it was that song which had sent the young crucifer bearing the red cross of mercy right up to the german guns. but their talk was not all serious. they were brimming over with life, and they laughed and scrapped and worked together with a zest which made even bramble-cutting enjoyable. it was when the big fire was glowing red and they set about preparing their evening meal that the best part of the fun began. whoever has not broiled great slices of bacon or toasted cold biscuits on sharpened sticks before a cheery camp-fire, who has not roasted sweet potatoes and green corn in glowing ashes, who has not inhaled the aroma from an old tin coffee-pot, spitting and sputtering on a hot rock, should join the boy scouts and hike back to the heart of nature. oh, but it was fun! all except the holding in check of savage appetites till the mess should be cooked. ed rowell had been detailed to toast the biscuits, and repeatedly threatened to "eat 'em alive" if they didn't brown faster. danny, who, with alex batré, had been directed to broil the bacon, couldn't for the life of him keep from pinching off a crisp edge now and then to nibble. and yet only yesterday danny harding would have turned up his nose at bacon. the stimulating fresh air and the hard work of camp life had begun to get in their good work on him. on the other side of the fire from danny, ham and roger gayle were roasting corn and sweet potatoes in the ashes, and a little beyond, elsie whitman was filling the water-cans from a trickling mountain spring--while biddie burton was busily engaged in getting under everybody else's feet and teasing whomever he could. mckenzie, their leader, was momentarily absent, having gone down to the road below the cliff on which they were encamped to see if their fire could be sighted from that point through the screening thicket. the boys had from the first been instructed by mckenzie to keep their voices lowered. they were there for serious service, he had told them. and the necessity for stealth and the promise of adventure had for a time keyed them up to the highest pitch of excitement. but when the interest of cooking supper became uppermost--especially when the scent of the bacon and coffee began to fill the air--thoughts of adventure withdrew a little to a distance and whispered merriment became the order of the hour. as was natural, they turned on the tenderfoot their battery of teasing, and the tenderfoot bore it as best he could. "its mother washes 'em," averred biddie burton, coming up behind danny and carefully examining his ears as he knelt at his work. "sure she does," laughed ham across the fire, "and they say that a sore tooth in its little mouth aches everybody in the family connection." "look out there, something's burning!" broke in ed rowell suddenly. and the next moment ham and roger were busy rescuing from the fire the scorching potatoes. "i declare," scolded biddie, lounging up, "i could beat you fellows cooking, with both hands tied behind me." "why haven't you ever done it, then?" snapped the elder gayle, sore over his partial failure. "why, nobody has ever tied my hands behind me," came in seemingly hurt explanation from biddie, and the crowd laughed. mckenzie had directed them not to wait for him, and they did not. another five minutes found them eating like young wolves around a languishing fire. later, when the fire winked lower, and the meal was finished--when the screech-owls began to send their blood-chilling, shivering screams through the forest--they drew closer together and began to talk of weird and haunting things. "over yonder, on the real 'death head,'" began roger, bringing the interest down to the spot, "is the haunted tree where----" "look out," broke in young rowell, "a little more of that and friend danny over here will cut for home and mother." "i'll do nothing of the kind; i'm not a baby!" exclaimed danny indignantly. but all the same, his heart was already in his mouth, for danny had never been distinguished for signal bravery. "no, you are not 'a baby,'" put in the unquenchable biddie, "but before we get out of these woods you are going to wish you _were_ a baby, and a _girl_ baby at that!" danny did not reply to this. he only sat very still, wishing that willard mckenzie would return from his prolonged trip, and thinking of the mother who was looking to him to play the man. the scene lost its glow. the surrounding forest grew darker, taller, and began stealing up closer about them. "if you cry like a baby--!" danny's mother was whispering to his sinking heart. the others had fallen into an argument about the exact location of the haunted tree, but presently ed rowell asked impatiently: "well, what is it about the place, anyway?" "haunted!" exclaimed ham. "a murderer, hunted with dogs through the mountains, hanged himself on----" "and the old tree died in the night," assisted his brother. "and it stands there now, naked and stark and dead. at night----" danny's heart stood still to hear. "at night," broke in whitman, "if you creep up close, you can see the dead man swinging in the wind!" "_listen!_" exclaimed biddie under his breath. it will have to be recorded that they all jumped violently at the exclamation. "what?" demanded l. c. "and hear old danny being quiet!" finished the teasing scamp. "you bet you, and he'd better be quiet--" began roger. but whitman interrupted: "danny's afraid of ghosts, anyway," he declared, "i tried to leave him in the graveyard once, but he was home in his mama's lap before i started running." "i'm not any more afraid of ghosts than you are," danny protested hotly. "oh, _aren't_ you?" "no, i'm not!" "all right, then," the big boy taunted; "i've been to the haunted tree by myself at night--these fellows all know i have--now suppose _you_ go." "sure, tenderfoot," put in young rowell; "here's a perfectly good chance to show your nerve." "he hasn't any," sneered alex batré. but danny drew back, aghast at the proposition--go alone to a spot like that, and at night! "go to it, kid," was suddenly spoken quietly in his ear. danny turned to see whose was the kindly voice that advised, and looked into biddie burton's eyes. "don't let 'em make you take a dare," came in another whisper. "_go._" biddie was not smiling now, and there was a note of serious friendliness in his voice. it suddenly came to danny that he would give more to merit that new confidence on biddie's part than to break down the taunts of the others. and yet he could not. he could no more command his shaking nerves to carry him to that unhallowed, ghostly spot than he could command the unwilling nerves of another. his will-power had deserted him. "i _dare_ you to go!" badgered l. c. danny's spirit flamed for one brief moment. but in the very next his head dropped, and he turned away. "this is going too far," the wretched little fellow heard biddie burton exclaim sharply. "what is 'going too far'?" a new voice asked out of the darkness, and willard mckenzie advanced into the group. "what is 'going too far'?" he repeated, glancing from one to another. no answer being volunteered, his keen glance quickly singled out the shamed tenderfoot. "what have they been up to, danny?" he asked. danny turned and faced him. "nothing that makes any difference," he said. it was generous in him not to "peach," and so biddie burton's friendly glance assured him. the incident passed with that, for mckenzie was full of something repressed, and, seeing it, the boys gathered close about him in eager questioning--all except danny. all except danny! his brief career--his career that only an hour ago had promised so much--had ended, and in disgrace. he had taken a dare! nothing would ever matter to him again--danny told his aching heart--the boys despised him, all except biddie burton, and, somehow, biddie's pity was harder to bear than despite. "i went to the gap and wired mr. gordon," mckenzie was saying now, "and he told me i could put you to it at once. he's had an accident to his car and may not get here for some time." "what's up?" it was roger who asked the question. "something serious," answered mckenzie, "but mr. gordon didn't say what. have you had supper?" they replied in concert, eager to receive orders. "well," continued mckenzie, "we've got to cover the mountain here, for signs of--anything unusual. you'll have to be careful not to run into trouble yourselves, but you must know your ground. there'll be a good moon if the clouds break." "glory be!" danny heard elsie whitman breathe in expectant ecstasy, and he would have given the world to have felt with him that eager joy. but danny had taken a dare! the others were chattering now, as eager as whitman to be off on the trail of adventure. mckenzie was giving orders: "whitman, you can take the north trail, and bear down over the mountain. ham will strike out down the creek to the left there, and work around to your territory. there's an old cabin hidden by scrub-oaks and rocks about a quarter below the bridge there, ham. know it for what it is, but don't you run your long neck into danger." in spite of his hurt danny was getting interested. he crept up on the outer edge of the group and listened, wide-eyed, as the other boys eagerly accepted their several commissions. "roger and ed," their leader was continuing, "bear south till you get below the drop of the cliff, and then separate and work that territory between you"--with a sweeping gesture. "alex and biddie--let me see--you two go over the mountain to the right of elsie--no, there's the death head trail--" he paused a moment in thoughtful survey of them, and the boys looked at each other apprehensively. not one of them was anxious to work the trail of evil name. suddenly, however, mckenzie's eyes lighted on danny harding, and an inspiration seemed to come to him. "say," he exclaimed, "i'll give the new recruit a chance at that. come here, scout." and he laid a kind hand on danny's shoulder and drew him into the circle. somebody on the outskirts of the group laughed. "now you are going to do your first service for your country," mckenzie said to the tenderfoot; "but whatever you do, be wary, because----" somebody else laughed, and mckenzie looked about sharply. "what's the joke?" he asked. "danny's afraid," the mocker explained; "that's where the dead man swings." biddie strolled forward. "alex will be enough to work elsie's right," he said to mckenzie. "give me the death head trail. you'll need dan here about the camp." but danny raised his head quickly. it is true that his face was dead-white, but his head was up. "i'll go to the death head," he said to mckenzie. the crowd was dumb-struck. "but you got white-livered and backed down--" l. c. began, after the first shock of his surprise. "i wouldn't go when you dared me to," said the tenderfoot, "but this is--different." and he added in his heart: "this is for _my country_." "but he _is_ afraid," put in roger. "look at him!" mckenzie took a long, straight look into danny's white face and determined eyes, and then turned to roger. "all the gamer of him," he said, "to go in spite of being afraid--that's the stuff that pershing is looking for. and mr. gordon says that a boy who 'isn't afraid of anything' hasn't sense enough to be trusted with a commission. "kid," he continued, turning to danny, "you find out all that there is to be known about the death head vicinity before you show up in camp again." "all right," said danny. there was a gasp of surprise among them at the tenderfoot's final acceptance of the commission, but not one of them--not even biddie--believed that he would be able to carry it through. and the sensitive, high-strung danny went out from among them burdened with the feeling that they did not look for him to succeed. mckenzie walked a little way with him--big-brother fashion, with an arm over his shoulder--and gave him careful directions as to how to proceed. there would be a moon if the clouds broke, his leader warned him, and he was to keep to the shadows. "i'll be leaving camp myself," said mckenzie, "and will not show up again for a couple of hours. you will probably get back before the rest of us, so just roll up in your blanket and lie close under that ledge yonder--you will be perfectly safe there." a little farther up the mountain trail and mckenzie paused. "never mind about the dead man, scout," he admonished finally, "but keep your eye peeled for the live one, and--'the best of luck!'" "'the best of luck!'" that was what the men at the front said to a fellow when he was going over the top of the shielding trench into the dangerous unknown. at the familiar phrase in parting, danny drew a quick, deep breath. yes, he was going "over the top"--and he was going _alone_! then mckenzie slipped quietly back, and danny started forward up the long, dark trail alone. the ghost of a moon showed dimly through the black cloud-rack, now and again, and fitfully relieved the enveloping darkness. only once did danny look back. that was when he came to the first turn in the mountain trail which his leader had carefully explained to him. beyond that turn, and it would be good-by to the last cheering, reassuring gleam of their camp-fire, to the last faint sound of comforting voices. danny paused and looked back. only two remained in the bright circle toward which his rapidly chilling spirit was reaching back. he recognized at once the tall, slim form of mckenzie, but---- yes, that chunky one was biddie burton. the two of them were standing close together, talking earnestly. and now danny caught, by a sudden leap of the firelight, the fact that they were looking toward him. biddie was nodding. it was so bright, so safe back there where they had laughed and feasted and wrangled together. then suddenly danny thought of the young crucifer in the little church of the holy innocents. "onward, christian soldiers!" the next moment danny was groping, feeling his trembling way, but that way was _onward_. the heart in his breast beat an alarm to every nerve in his body, but he kept his face toward the dim, dark trail. a lump rose in his throat and threatened to choke him. he gulped it down, and crept forward. mckenzie had told him that a scout must keep his head. that was the hardest part. a fellow could force himself to go blindly to a haunted spot at night, but to think, to plan, to watch as he went----! but he was a scout, and a scout must "be prepared." danny forced himself to think as he went. he was not following that gruesome trail in response to whitman's dare--he was scouting old death head in the service of his country. danny found that he could follow mckenzie's directions better than he had hoped. now that his eyes were thoroughly accustomed to the dark, he could descry the blacker landmarks for which his leader had prepared him. after the turn in the mountain trail, an abrupt and jagged cliff ahead beckoned the way. the shadow of the cliff won, danny waited for another appearance of the pale, cold moon by the help of whose light he hoped to locate the three giant pines--his next objective. from the pines, mckenzie had told him, old death head could be sighted plainly enough, for from that point it was silhouetted, black and unmistakable, against the sky, and its summit was marked by the stark, white, blasted tree of evil fame. "that's where the dead man swings!" echoed in danny's memory. and for a moment it seemed that he _must_ give up and fly back to safety. but something said: "i'll disown you, sir!" and danny again turned his face in the direction of his duty. the moon looked out of the drifting clouds. danny located the three giant pines in the distance, and for one blessed moment saw a reasonably clear path, skirting along the mountainside. darkness again! but danny took the skirting path to the pine giants. once he nearly lost his nerve altogether, for suddenly there was behind him a sound as if some human foot had stumbled. the tenderfoot dropped warily to the long grass at one side of the path, and listened. a long, long time he listened, but not another sound did he hear. at length he told himself that the step was that of some wild creature which he had disturbed. then forward again! creeping, panther-footed. danny reached the pines at last--and sure enough, old death head rose all too plainly before him. he saw, or thought he saw, a tall white something on its summit. in thinking it over afterward, danny was never quite sure just what happened between the pines and the haunted tree. he had a vague recollection of imagining that step behind again, and he recalled at one point the almost welcome pain of a stubbed toe. but for the rest, he was too frightened to take it all in. by the time the tenderfoot reached the summit of old death head and stood within fifty feet of the haunted tree, he was too frightened to move, and he almost _expected_ to see the thing which he most feared. the sky was overcast again, but a dim white something towered before him--the haunted tree--and--and----! but just at that moment the clouds broke, and the full moon, now all unveiled, flooded the scene with light. naked, stark, ghostly, the blasted pine-tree rose before him. with a sudden spasm at his heart danny looked for the swinging dead man. but if anything unearthly hung from those bare white branches, his mortal eyes were spared the vision. and presently his awakening reason began to urge: "there are no such things as 'ghosts.'" the next moment the young scout came fully to himself, and withdrew quickly from the all-revealing flood of moonlight to the friendly shadow of a low shrub. he began to peer sharply about. the growth around was ragged, with great spaces between. if there was anything here that a scout ought to note, the opportunity was ideal. he must perform the duty for which he was here! his leader had told him to know the spot before he showed up in camp again. danny began skirting about in the shadows, getting every angle he could on the scene, and exploring adjacent wood lanes. it is true that he kept well away from the haunted tree, but he came back to its vicinity every now and then. and each time as he came he managed to force himself to approach it closer. nearer and nearer he got to it, and then, suddenly, he heard issue from somewhere in its branches a low, sighing moan. danny thought he would drop in his tracks, but he did not. instead, he stood as still as death and listened. that moan again! every time a gust of wind came, the dim, weird sound trembled along the night. the moon was shining brilliantly now. danny stood staring at the haunted tree. all at once he crept forward, sharply intent on something. what was that straight black line against the sky? where did it come from?--that haunted tree? another moment and danny was at the foot of the ghostly pine-tree, staring upward at the crisscross of its naked branches. there was no swinging dead man there, but there was _something_--at the top! danny dropped to the ground and retreated a little on all fours for a better view-point. 'way up, two parallel black bars rose against the sky. a scout must keep his head! now, no boughs of a tree ever grew that straight! and what were those orderly black lines which extended from one bar to the other? that moan again!--or--or was it the sound of a wire, played upon by the wind? danny shifted his position again. yes, that black line across the sky connected directly with the queer something in the tree top. "_wireless!_" said the scout's head to him. danny stood up. all childish fear of a swinging ghost had dropped away from him. he had not the slightest inclination now to cry like a baby about anything. he was a scout on duty! another moment and he was creeping, velvet-footed, through the woods, following that black line as it led away from the haunted tree. at the other end of it must be a receiving-station! and it was no easy task which his duty set him. over sharp rocks and through tangled briers that black line led him on. sometimes the moon would desert him and he would lose the clue for a while. sometimes he would be forced to abandon his clue to skirt around an insuperable barrier. but he always came back to it, always pressed on. on and on! and then, suddenly, the line disappeared. it ended, or seemed to end in a large pile of boulders which clung to the mountainside. the undergrowth was dense here. danny circled about the spot. yes, the wire stopped here. he began creeping through the underbrush--feeling his way along the side of a great boulder. suddenly his hand touched--_nothing_! the scout stopped and thought. there was some sort of break in the rock here. danny had a flashlight in his pocket which he had been too cautious to use. he thought of it now, and hesitated. then he slipped it out and pressed the spring. before him was what seemed the door of a cave. he looked closer. yes, the wire led into the cave. darkness, again, for he was afraid to use his light any longer. danny dropped to his all-fours and crept into the black hole. a floor of soft sand helped him to advance noiselessly. after a few yards the scout reached a turn in the rocky passageway, and---- his eye caught a big, black-hooded shadow humped over a point of light! danny withdrew quickly behind the sheltering turn in the wall, and crouched in the sand, dead-still. but his blood was up. he took a second look. a man was sitting over some sort of instrument, and over his ears were cups, something like danny had seen worn by the girl at the telephone central station. the one point of light in the big dark recess was turned on a note-book under the man's hand. the young scout drew back, and crept silently out of the cavern. out under the stars again, and this time with his blood on fire! a spy, a german spy sat in that cave and sent messages----! only yesterday a fleet of transports had slipped out of the harbor, with thousands of american soldiers on board--submarines--sea-raiders! but a scout must keep his head. help? which way could help be found? the boys were scattered, mckenzie would not be in camp. nobody knew when to expect mr. gordon. which way? which way? oh, yes, down over the drop of the cliff to the south yonder was the mountain wagon road by which their scouting party had ascended that afternoon. if he could get to the road he could find somebody somewhere--surely, there were a few inhabitants hereabouts! that german was sending wireless messages right this minute---- yes, the shortest way to the road was the only way for a fellow to take now! and danny took it. when he reached the cliff, spent and sore, a new difficulty presented itself. a sheer fifty-foot drop still separated him from the road. he crept along the edge searching for a footing by which to descend, and presently found one that looked possible. there were broken, shelving places here, and tufts of growing things down the face of the dizzy wall. danny began to climb down. but he found it harder than he had thought, and at times he was a mere human fly clinging to a rock wall. [illustration: a man was sitting over some sort of instrument.] nearly down--only about fifteen feet more! but at that moment the human fly's hold crumbled under his clinging fingers, and he dropped. it ought not to have been a bad fall, but the trouble was a loosened rock followed, and came down on one arm as its owner lay prostrate on the ground. danny lay very still for a few moments, looking at the stars and thinking of--nothing! then presently the sound of human voices came to him from somewhere out of the night. with an effort he raised up a little to push off the stone from his arm, but he dropped back again. the stars began to swim at that, and the voices to grow fantastic. but a scout--must--keep--his head! those voices sounded familiar! danny summoned all his strength, and sent the wavering call of a wounded whippoorwill along the night. silence, and then a whippoorwill answered sharply from out the forest. danny called again. shortly after that came low voices and the sound of hurrying feet. then mr. gordon, the scout master, mckenzie, their leader, and jolly old biddie burton were hovering over him. "are you hurt?" they asked in one breath. but danny cried out feverishly: "there's a german spy sending wireless messages from old death head, and our transports have put to sea!" and he told them, brokenly, the story of his find. there was consternation among them for one brief moment, and then everybody woke to action. they must get the man at once--but _which way_ to go? mr. gordon spoke quickly: "you stay with danny, burton; mckenzie and i will go back to the death head and follow the clue from there." and even as he spoke he and mckenzie were hurriedly, but tenderly, binding up the wounded arm, while biddie improvised a comforting sling for it. but danny knew that the route by way of old death head was long and circuitous. and he knew also that the shortest way is the only way to take when one's duty to one's country calls. he got to his feet. "i'll show you the shortest way," he said. * * * * * how they found means of scaling the cliff, how they accomplished their stealthy journey back to the hidden wireless station, piloted by the wounded tenderfoot whom they supported at every step, is too long a story to tell. but they reached the mouth of the dark cave. the two boys were left outside, and very shortly thereafter mr. gordon and mckenzie brought out between them a big shadowy figure with its hands bound together. * * * * * that night, the east-bound passenger was flagged at the little station in the valley, and there boarded it a squad of boy scouts with their leaders, who guarded between them a captured german spy. "gordon, how did you manage it?" called a voice, from some distance down the long coach as they entered. for answer, mr. gordon took hold of a little boy who wore his left arm in a sling and, pushing him gently forward, said before that whole car full of curious, excited people: "we had an american on guard to-night." * * * * * the probate judge's office in the old courthouse on the square was, the next morning, the scene of a most unusual gathering. danny and his mother had been asked by the scout master to meet him there at ten o'clock. mr. gordon had sent his request in the form of a brief note which explained that the boy scout court of honor was to be in session that morning, and said that he wished his youngest scout to be present. danny's mother was strangely elated over the request, but danny did not know why. he was so young in the business of scouting that some details of the system had not yet become definitely his. he ventured one surmise when the note was read--something in connection with the taking of that german spy, of course. maybe the whippoorwills were to be commended for delivering the goods. and danny's mind's eye recalled again the stirring scene--mckenzie and mr. gordon marshalling to the station between them the big german whom they had captured and bound, and he and the other scouts trudging along in excited escort. it was a wonderful thing to be a man, danny thought wistfully--to be big and strong enough to lay a compelling hand on the enemy in our midst and say: "i want you!" but it will have to be recorded that danny's mother acted a little queerly on receipt of the note. when danny said that perhaps the whippoorwills were to be commended for "delivering the goods," his mother looked up at him quickly, as if in surprise. then she laughed a little and cried a little, and then she dashed off for her hat and wraps like a girl. at ten o'clock sharp, danny and his mother presented themselves at judge sledge's door. as they paused to knock, a voice came to them through the closed door--a familiar voice, and it sounded very earnest. then the door was opened in response to their knock. they hesitated a moment while they took in the quiet, dignified scene within. portly old judge sledge was sitting well forward in his office chair with his spectacles pushed back upon his bald head, while doctor cranfield and several gentlemen whom danny knew only by sight were grouped about him. all were in the attitude of listening intently to a man who stood before them--mr. gordon. danny's quick glance took in all this, including the background of khaki-clad whippoorwills, plastered against the wall beyond. the gentlemen rose, on the entrance of mrs. harding, and the scouts crowded forward to whisper excitedly to danny. but danny did not have time to listen to them, for doctor cranfield--taking him by his good arm--turned him about, and said to the company: "this is the boy." there was an agonizing moment to danny in which he realized that everybody in the room was looking at him. then he had to be introduced. it was very, very trying, for each man to whom danny gave his hand in greeting looked him over from head to foot, and made embarrassingly personal, if kindly, remarks about him. "he was a small chap for the job." "he ought to be _red-headed_." "he was his mother's son." danny looked across the group into his mother's eyes and caught there an expression which he was never to forget. and she was smiling--in spite of the tear-mist over her beautiful eyes--she was smiling. when they resumed their seats, there returned upon the group the touch of ceremonial quiet and earnestness which the entrance of the newcomers had for the moment dispelled. mr. gordon took a chair behind mrs. harding and explained to her and danny in a low tone that the session was nearly over. judge sledge had been compelled to convene the court earlier than the appointed hour. the other men were talking apart. presently, one of them turned to the scout master and said: "following what you have just related, mr. gordon--do you think that it was quite wise in your patrol leader to send out a mere tenderfoot on a really dangerous commission?" mr. gordon was about to reply, when mckenzie stepped forward and saluted. "may i answer that?" he asked. the court assented, and all turned to hear. "our private advices had been," began mckenzie, with his indianlike figure drawn up to its full height, "that it was camelback mountain which was under suspicion. we located our camp on a parallel range, and miles from the suspected vicinity. mr. gordon and i and several of the older boys were later to take in hand the serious work of camelback, but we thought it well to give the others a little experience. i had not intended to employ the tenderfoot till i overheard the boys teasing him. i sent him to the death head to redeem himself in his own eyes and in theirs." "please, may i speak?" biddie burton had come forward eagerly. with the permission of the judge, biddie hurried on: "without letting the other boys know, mckenzie told me to follow danny in case his courage should give out completely. but he gave me my orders to keep well in the rear. he wanted dan to go to the haunted tree by himself, if he would--to win his spurs, you see." "did you follow harding all the way?" someone interrupted. "all the way to the haunted tree? yes, sir, and he _did_ go! he went right up to it and circled all about it. then the earth seemed to open and swallow him up. i looked and looked for him. then i ran back for help. i found mckenzie and mr. gordon, and we all three started out after dan. you have heard the rest." this seemed satisfactory, and the judge turned to danny. "come here, daniel," he said, "and tell the court now how you captured your wireless operator." danny started. "i didn't do it, sir," he said in embarrassment. "mr. gordon and willard mckenzie captured the man. i only showed them where he was." the men exchanged glances. "well," said the judge, again, "come here and tell us what you _did do_." danny came forward. "salute!" he heard biddie whisper. danny saluted. "now," said the judge, "tell these gentlemen here what--what you told _your mother_ when you got back from the mountains last night." danny looked at his mother. her eyes were misty again, but she was nodding to him to do as the judge directed. the tenderfoot stood embarrassed before them and told the story exactly as he had related it to his mother. he didn't like to do this, for he was very much ashamed of having to tell how frightened he had been, and how he had had to force himself to go forward. the men listened intently. once in a while one would interrupt to ask a question. when danny got to the point in his story of his acceptance of mckenzie's commission to cover old death head, a dark-eyed, quiet man on the judge's right leaned forward. "one moment, harding," he said. "mckenzie told us before you entered that you were afraid to go when the boys dared you, but that when he told you to go on the scouting trip, you said, 'this is different.' what did you mean by its being 'different'?" danny looked up from his nervous fingering of the judge's paper-weight. "i meant that it was for my country," he answered simply. the dark-eyed man glanced at the others. "_beat that_," he said in a low tone to them. judge sledge took down his spectacles from his bald head, adjusted them on his nose, and looked hard at the boy. "proceed," he commanded, after a moment. danny proceeded. "weren't you afraid to crawl into that cave?" one of them asked in the course of the story. "yes, sir," said danny. later, another interrupted with: "but if your arm was broken and paining you, why didn't you stay with burton, there, and let the others go by the way of death head, and take up the clue you had followed?" "why, you see," answered danny, "we had to get to the man quickly to stop his telegraphing. i knew a short route to him." "exactly," said the judge, nodding, then he turned to the men about him. "all right, gentlemen?" he asked. there was a whispered conference of a few moments, and then, to danny's surprise, they all turned to him. "daniel," said the judge, "do you know why this court of honor has been called into session?" danny's glance swept the khaki-clad figures against the wall--he looked at mr. gordon. "i hope," he answered to the judge, "that you like what we did." "yes," said the judge, smiling this time, "yes, the whippoorwills are quite in our good graces, and we commend the promptness and efficiency of mr. gordon and your leader, mckenzie. however, this court has been called together to sit in judgment on _your_ part in last night's performance. daniel, do you realize that you have done bravely and well?" danny stood for one moment, stunned by the dawning realization of what this meant. then he looked across at his mother. life holds for a boy no higher, happier moment than that in which he realizes he has made his mother proud of him. without waiting for him to reply, the judge was continuing: "this court finds, danny, that in spite of very human, very natural fears, and at the cost of suffering to yourself, you performed a service to your country which may be more far-reaching than any of us dream. and if there is anything braver than the conquering of fear, anything more manly than the voluntary endurance of pain for a high cause, or any earthly motive of action higher than one's duty to one's country, we have never found it. "now, son, it is not within the power of this, our local court, to confer upon you what we think you deserve. it is ours, however, to recommend to the boy scout national court of honor that you be awarded the honor medal. this we are going to do because we believe you have saved more than life by your prompt action, and we know that you did it at the cost of suffering to yourself and at the risk of your own life." * * * * * when, a few weeks later, the honor medal did arrive and was pinned upon danny's breast, the young scout found it necessary to take his little mother in hand. "'if you cry like a baby,'" he whispered laughingly but with his arms about her, "'i'll _disown_ you!'" under the flag "_louise!_" the little girl came to a halt suddenly and nearly dropped her book-satchel. somebody had called her name--some startling, mysterious voice had called her! she looked hurriedly about, but there was nobody in sight--nobody but a saucy squirrel perched upon a park bench, and a redbird flitting along the open between the enclosing hawthorns. which one had called? "_louise!_" the little girl started back, too frightened to scream--it was the hawthorn! but the next moment a boyish bullet-head appeared between parted boughs. "come here!" exclaimed its owner in suppressed excitement. "we've got something to tell you!" down went the book-satchel, but not in fear this time. billy hastings had called--called excitedly--and billy was known to furnish nearly all the third-grade thrills there were. so the next moment louise was stooping her way under the hawthorn boughs in answer to her playfellow's summons. billy was not alone in the green grotto in which louise presently found herself, for nearly half the third-grade members were there. there was wide-eyed tinsie willis, with her little frilly skirts bristling with excitement, with mamie moore swallowing to keep back hysterical tears, and sadie and lallie raiford, with their backs to each other for safe-keeping. and there were boys, a whole mob of boys! the children were huddled together in suppressed excitement, and were whispering all at the same time. it was plain that something terrible, something menacing, had happened. "you know that new boy that came to school this morning--?" began one. "that 'rudolph kreisler'?" put in another. "sh-h-h!" interrupted a third wildly. but billy hastings thrust his red, round face close to louise's and announced in a blood-curdling whisper: "_rudolph kreisler is a german spy!_" louise's legs crumpled under her, and she sat down in a heap. again they were all talking at the same time, and this time at her. "he's got his trousers' pockets just _full_ of something!" exclaimed pete laslie. "and he's watching, _watching_!" put in another. "didn't you see him sitting off there by himself looking at us while we played ball?" "spying!" hissed luke musgrove over billy hastings's shoulder. the children started and looked about apprehensively. luke's words always carried weight by reason of the fact that he had been two years in the third grade and ought to know what he was talking about if he didn't. "yes," chimed in billy, coming close to louise again and speaking in his most dramatic tone. "just you dare to draw a deep breath, and he'll tell the kaiser on you!" louise gasped--a short, a curtailed little gasp. never till the great war should be over would she breathe from her diaphragm again! "oh-o-o-o, _louise_!" from round-eyed tinsie willis. "_what?_" "you've left your book-satchel out there in the path! just suppose he were to come by and see it!" there was a moment of consternation, of wild chattering, in which everybody poked his head out to see, but nobody would venture far enough to get the incriminating satchel. then tommie warren had an inspiration. snatching a crooked-handle umbrella from ella vaiden, he flung himself flat on the grass and reached for the tell-tale satchel with the crook. "it's a good thing ella brought that umbrella!" exclaimed tinsie. and all looked at ella, who stood up very straight in spite of the low-dipping boughs. the next moment louise had her beloved book-satchel hugged close to her pounding heart. "sh-h-h!" suddenly came from a self-constituted sentinel. "_what?_" "_he's coming!_" the crowd in the bushes stood tiptoe and breathless as the german spy came down the hawthorn path. he was a small lad--small for the third grade--with big blue eyes and a shock of tawny hair. the kaiser had not equipped him very well, for there was a suggestion of poverty about his mended clothes. but, after all, maybe those carefully darned places at his knees were only a part of an adroit disguise. his pockets _were_ bulging, and with knotty-looking somethings very suggestive of poorly concealed bombs. he was not whistling, as a perfectly good american would have been, but walked slowly and with his head down. it was very suspicious! he passed. "let's get him now!" suggested luke. "good!" exclaimed billy. "get some rocks!" and instantly all was excitement, the uncensored noise of which reached the little german and caused him to take to his heels. in the confusion of the next few moments louise scarcely realized what they were about. but when they tore out of the bushes, snatching up rocks as they went, and rushed after their flying prey, her heart stood still. he was such a _little_ boy! with the back of her hand pressed tight against the sobs that would not be stifled, and with tears raining down her cheeks, the little girl followed in the wake of the howling mob. then somebody rounded a hawthorn bush and came bang up against her. it was jimmie fisher, a big, red-headed rock of strength, who could carry lightly the heaviest book-satchels there were. "what are you crying about?" he asked, after his first quick survey of her. "they--they are killing rudolph kreisler!" sobbed louise. "no," assured jimmie, "he'll get home free. he lives just across there. are these your books?" * * * * * the next day matters only grew worse. the whole atmosphere of the third grade had become electric with suspicion of a certain little boy who, looking neither to right nor to left, kept his wistful blue eyes bent on the task before him. when rudolph stood up at the singing of the star-spangled banner, luke growled out that he was "just pretending." and when, from his seat near the door, the german lad answered the knock of a visitor, ella vaiden whispered audibly: "see _that_? he wants to see _who's there_!" in recitation rudolph answered the questions put to him with despicable german efficiency, but luke missed with conspicuous patriotism and went noisily foot. but through it all louise was doing her own thinking. she was a loyal little citizen and loved her country with all her heart; but there flowed through her veins the blood of a long line of americans who had been just and fair. the little girl was afraid of german spies--afraid for her country--and rudolph kreisler's pockets did bulge ominously. if rudolph kreisler _was_ a german spy, why he would have to be dealt with, of course. but if he wasn't----? louise wished with all her heart that miss barclay, the teacher, would suspect this terrible smothered tragedy that was being enacted within her class. of course one's teacher, like one's mother, could solve every problem; and miss barclay in particular could command the storms of childhood to be still. if only miss barclay knew! but in third-grade ethics it was "dishonorable" to "tattle," so louise was compelled to hold her peace and think fast. there were recesses ahead in which covertly cruel things might happen, and an after-school walk through a lonely park from which a real _little_ boy might not get home free. something must be done. at first recess the boys and girls were, as usual, separated in their play, but louise--observing from afar--saw that the little german sat by himself on the steps, and watched the spirited ball-play of the others with keen alertness. yes, it was very suspicious. big recess brought with it an unusual privilege that day. the third-grade boys and girls were to be allowed to mingle together and on the front lawn, in order to keep them from under the feet of certain workmen who were making excavations through the school-grounds. this was all very thrilling, for it was from a tall staff on the front lawn that their beautiful new flag was floating, and to-day they would be able to see it close--to touch the pole with their very hands! then, too, it would be so remarkable to play with _boys_. louise pondered it all as the third-grade girls filed down to their lunch-room. rudolph kreisler was not there, of course, but rudolph would be with them among the other boys at play-time. she would then be able to watch him narrowly--to keep an eye on those bulging pockets. all the other girls were chattering over their lunch, but louise drank her milk and ate her sandwich in thoughtful silence. presently a hand was laid upon her heavy curls and she looked up with a start. the principal was smiling down at her. "what are you thinking of, little tragedy queen?" he asked. louise blushed and tried vainly to reply. the teacher serving the sandwiches answered the principal. "of 'the impossibility of all things,'" she said with a curious sidewise smile. the principal put his hand under louise's chin and, tilting her head back, looked deep into her eyes. "you must run and play a great deal," he said, and passed on. then, when the last sandwich had gone the way of all good sandwiches, they repaired to the front lawn. it was all so wonderful--so green and cool and stately-looking. and there, sure enough, was the great new flag, curling and uncurling in the fitful wind--'way up against the sky! the boys were already out on the green when the little girls were marched down the steps and disbanded among them to enjoy the most unusual privilege of joining in their games. then, all suddenly a great awkwardness came down upon the girls. how was one to play with boys at recess? of course _after school_ it came natural enough to mingle with them, but this was not "after school"! it was most embarrassing. louise found herself timid in the chaperoned recess-presence of jimmie and billy and luke, and began to back away toward the steps. "look out!" shouted billy suddenly. louise jumped to "look out." behind her, on the bottom step, sat the german spy. she had nearly backed into him! in the face of danger, embarrassment dropped away. the next moment louise had fled back to her countrymen and was listening, excited, to their eager whispers. "rudolph kreisler sits by himself--always by himself. isn't that funny?" "just look at him _now_!" "see him watching the flag?" "get that gleam in his eye? look, quick!" "old rascal! he got home free yesterday--but just you wait!" and so they stood apart from him and whispered. the german spy dug his toes in the sand a little longer, then rose and moved a few steps farther up. then ella vaiden declared that they were wasting time, and proposed that they begin a game. but nobody knew what to play. "i'll tell you!" exclaimed louise. "let's play 'under the flag.'" "what's that?" asked several. "why--why--" began louise, inventing the game as she proceeded, "it's this way: you go stand under the flag and look up at it till the wind blows it out straight--and--and then you make a wish. if the flag floats wide till you have finished, your wish will come true." all were interested at once, and the game began. the fitful, boisterous wind took an active part and the play became spirited. tinsie willis was the first to come "under the flag," but she was so excited she forgot to wish till the broadly floating banner had wrapped itself about its staff and her opportunity was gone. then everybody began talking at once, and mamie moore piped up: "i'm going to wish for a pair of shiny-bug slippers!" louise was shocked, and quickly explained that when one wished under the flag it must be for something serious and from the very depths of one's heart. "sure," supported jimmie of the red head. "you can wish for shiny-bug slippers under an umbrella!" but mamie couldn't then think of anything more serious than the need of gilt slippers, and was promptly ruled out till her imagination should come to her assistance. several boys took turns next, but they were so noisy and boisterous that they came near spoiling everything. then flora archer took her place. flora was a thoughtful little girl who carried around in her eyes a deep, deep something people never understood. with her lips close to the flagpole, she whispered her message to it, and all the while the beautiful banner streamed out to its farthest length. flora came back without speaking, and the children looked at her in curious silence. but when the others were noisily choosing times again, flora slipped her hand into louise's and whispered: "i wished for our soldiers to win in the war, but for them not to be cruel when they do." "yours, louise!" exclaimed somebody. and before louise had time to examine the depths of her heart to see what it was she most desired, a half-dozen pair of friendly hands pushed her forward. it was no time to hold back--to spoil the game. louise mounted the green knoll from which the great flagpole rose. but she did not at once look up. her glance had accidentally lighted on the lonely figure on the steps, and was resting there for a moment in startled contemplation. he was such a _little_ boy, and he seemed so--apart! but one must make no mistakes where one's country was involved. _were_ his blue eyes "gleaming" with vengeful purpose? or were they only full--of shining tears? "look up! look up!" the children called. louise threw back her head--threw it back so far that the familiar scene about her became lost to her view and she beheld nothing but the vision above. amid the battling tree tops and against a threatening sky the flag of freedom streamed out in all its rippling glory--red for the courage of american hearts, white for the purity of purpose they should harbor, and blue for truth, like that higher, farther heaven above the gathering clouds. now rippling, now curling, wreathing, snapping, and now--straight out, fronting the coming storm! "quick! quick!" the children shouted, as old glory floated free. suddenly the child stretched up her hands. it was not a wish, but a prayer, that her young heart sent up to her country's flag. "help me to--play fair!" she whispered. louise saw her comrades only mistily when she came down the green knoll again toward them. then all became babel again. "it's my time next!" exclaimed luke musgrove, shouldering forward. "who said so?" demanded another. "_i_ said so," answered the big boy rudely, and he strode to his place against the flagpole. "i wish," he began in a loud, strident voice, and without waiting for the wind to come hurtling across the green, "i wish _to wring the neck of that german spy_!" all eyes were quickly turned from the flag to where a little wide-eyed boy shrank back in terror against the steps. "glory be!" shouted billy hastings. "teacher's gone in--let's drag rudolph under the flag!" instantly the flame of persecution swept them, and they started after the alien lad. but at the foot of the steps somebody blocked the way. louise carey had flung herself between. "it's not fair, and you _shan't_!" she cried. the astonished mob wavered in indecision. "'not _fair_?'" echoed luke with a jeer. "no," stormed louise. "we didn't _ask_ him to come under the flag, and you shan't _make_ him do it!" "we'll see about that--" began luke. "_that we will!_" put in jimmie fisher, but it was not to louise that he spoke. he was talking to luke, and he planted himself protectingly in front of louise and the little german, and faced the third-grade bully. never before in her life had louise realized how beautiful was a shock of bristling red hair. the third-grade bully was growling now, but in a decidedly lower key. "now, then"--jimmie was speaking to louise this time--"you are bossing this game. say what you want done with that--that--" and he looked at the frightened rudolph. louise glanced up at the flag. it was floating now--broad and free enough to cover all who might come. "i am going to _invite_ rudolph to come under our flag," she said. the children gasped as louise held out her hand to the little alien. "won't you come and be american with us?" she asked kindly. the boy drew back a moment while his blue eyes searched her face for whatever hidden cruelty might lurk beneath its seeming sweetness. then he smiled--a timid, but trusting smile--and rising, took her extended hand. but billy hastings called jeeringly: "he's a sneak! he's just doing it to pretend!" "he knows i'd drag him if he didn't come!" exclaimed another. "coward! _coward!_" yelled luke. "you're afraid to refuse!" and then, all suddenly, something in the german lad flamed up. he snatched his hand from louise's. he stood to his full height with blazing eyes, and cried: "it's a lie!" the sound of the school-bell broke the startled quiet which followed the alien's spirited revolt. "_please_," pleaded louise, "don't mind them! you've time yet to come under the flag." but rudolph stood indignant, immovable. "get to your lines, children," and the principal's call-bell was heard tapping above on the porch. a group of boys came suddenly together into a tight bunch. "we'll fix him after school," louise heard them threaten. and she knew that rudolph heard it, too--knew by the sudden whiteness which swept over his face. the next minute the boys and girls were drawn up in parallel lines ready to march into the schoolhouse. louise was at the end of her line and rudolph kreisler was the last on the boys' row. they were opposite each other. "eyes front--march!" came the command, and the lines moved forward with one impulse. "eyes front!" but to save her life louise could not help stealing a sidelong glance at rudolph. to her horror she saw the little alien slip quietly behind a rose-bush and drop out of sight into the bricked-up area which furnished window-space for the basement. with a flash louise remembered that those windows communicated directly with the engine-room, and that the engine-room was directly under the third grade. "pay attention, louise," came from the porch, and louise's startled, dark eyes were turned to the front again. when the children were seated in their room it developed that miss barclay had been temporarily called away, and that a scared-looking girl from the teacher training-class was in charge of the third grade. the new teacher did not miss rudolph, but the children did, and there was smothered excitement in consequence. louise, who had not breathed a word of what she knew, sat grasping her desk with both hands. rudolph kreisler had refused to come under the flag! of course they had taunted him, but the stark fact remained that he _had_ refused. and then no human being had ever seen inside those bulging pockets. rudolph kreisler, bulging pockets and all, was in the engine-room, right under their feet! and then a new fear suddenly laid its grip upon her heart. suppose that german boy should do something to the flag! she tried to shift her position so that she could see out of the window, but found it impossible. "oh-o-o, teacher!" louise jumped at the sound of excitement in the voice from behind her, but quieted somewhat when she realized that it was tinsie willis who spoke. "louise has left her hat on the front lawn!" "louise, go and get your hat," said the substitute, looking all about the room to see which one of the many little girls might be the one reported. louise rose from her seat with fear and trembling and left the room. but the first glimpse of the out-of-doors dispelled her great new fear--her flag was still there! the stately lawn looked vast and awe-inspiring now that one had to face its darkly waving greens all alone, but duty called. she had left her hat by the flagpole, and she now went timidly up to get it. she mounted the green knoll. she looked up. to play fair--to play fair! and yet, one must be loyal. one couldn't let german spies go around with their pockets--rudolph kreisler was in the engine-room right now! louise's grandfather and his father's father had died for their country--would they know, 'way up yonder in heaven, if she of their own blood were to turn coward at the test? it was too poignant a risk. louise took hep young life in her hands. down the green knoll and around the rose-bush, and she dropped into the brick area right by the window which opened from the engine-room. it was raised. the little girl peeped in, with her heart swelling till she thought she would smother. there was black dust on the floor and black soot on the walls. and there in the centre rose the huge black demon engine. but no crouching enemy was to be seen anywhere--he was hiding, of course! she slipped through the window, past the great silent engine, and came face to face with rudolph kreisler. the die was cast now. "tell me," demanded louise, choking with excitement and fear, "are you a--a _german spy_?" "no," said the astonished boy, "_no_!" "well, what _are_ you, then?" there was no backing down now; she was going to have it out with him. "i wanted to be--american," he said, his lips threatening to quiver. "i--i thought i was." and he looked away. one must know the truth when one's country was at stake. louise drew a quick breath. "well, what are you doing with your pockets full of bombs, then?" she forced herself to bring out. the little boy turned toward her again, and began slowly to draw out the contents of those suspicious pockets. a mitt, a top, two balls, a kite-string, a chicken-foot, a gopher, nails of various lengths, some tobacco tags, and a grimy stick of candy were laid one by one on the janitor's tool-bench, and the german spy stood with his pockets turned wrong side out. but one must have the _whole_ truth. "what are you doing with balls and mitts when you sit on the steps all the time?" the little girl demanded, but with decidedly less asperity this time. "i thought maybe they'd--let me play, sometime." something rolled down his cheek and splashed on the front of his jacket. "_won't_ they let you play?" choked louise, blinking hard to clear her suddenly clouded vision. the boy shook his head. "well, why doesn't your mamma come and scold the teacher about it?" she demanded in indignant sympathy. "i haven't any mamma." "oh-o-o! well, you have a papa, haven't you? why doesn't _he_ do something?" "father says those who are born here don't know how awful it is to have to choose----" then he stopped. "doesn't your father hate germany?" the little girl asked. "why, no," said the boy. "does he love america?" "yes," said the boy. "well! well!" exclaimed the little girl. then--"do you know, rudolph, i'm sorry for your papa!" but rudolph did not answer this time. he merely turned aside till his face was hidden. suddenly a remembered something gripped louise. "rudolph," she said, "if you _are_ american, why did you refuse to come under the flag?" "i--i was going to--but they called me a 'coward,' and said i was afraid to refuse," he answered huskily. louise found herself batting very heavy lashes again. "i am so glad i came to you," she said, "because i never would have known that you are not a german spy if you hadn't told me!" "lou-i-i-se!" the two started at the call--it was in tinsie willis's high-pitched voice. evidently she had been sent to find the truant. "sh-h-h!" exclaimed louise to rudolph. "they are after me for staying out so long. i must go." "those steps yonder lead to the front hall," said the boy. "go up that way." "but you must come, too!" louise exclaimed. "i can't," replied the miserable child. "the boys are fixing to fight me. when school is over i'll slip out and go home." "but why wait? why don't you go now?" asked the little girl, a strange uneasiness coming over her. "the police will get me if i go out on the street during school hours," answered he. "lou-i-i-se!" "i'm going," whispered louise to rudolph, "but _don't_ let the boys catch you! miss barclay has gone--and--and--_don't_ let them catch you, rudolph!" the next moment she glided up the dark stairway and came out into the big hall. jimmie fisher was emerging from the third-grade cloaking-room with his hat and books. "father's leaving for france with a hospital unit," he explained hurriedly, "and mother sent for me to tell him good-by." then he darted away. miss barclay gone! and jimmie gone! had god himself deserted the third grade? * * * * * when louise crept back into the schoolroom--ahead of tinsie willis, who was still searching for her--she found things very troublous indeed. the children were naughty and restless, and the substitute was--a substitute! the whole class had been told to stay in, and louise was promptly included in the sentence as soon as her tardy little face appeared in the doorway. but she did not cry or fling herself about, for she knew she had remained out of the room overtime. of course it had been for a high purpose, but that she could not explain, so she merely assented courteously and slipped into her seat. her grandfather and his father's father had laid down their lives for the right--if she did not succeed in living through that dreadful half-hour of punishment, she would be but another of her race to die for a high cause. matters grew worse, and now the wind and the sky took a hand. the great trees outside began to battle fiercely together, and the sky frowned, darker and darker. suddenly louise--looking out of the window--saw perkins, the janitor, hauling down the flag! was the houston street school surrendering to the germans? for one unworthy moment louise suspected rudolph kreisler again. but she instantly afterward reminded herself that he had told her with his own lips he wished to be american. then the heavens opened and the floods came. it was a terrible, terrible afternoon, but children and substitute managed somehow to live through it, and after so long a time the gong sounded for the dismissal of school. the children of the other grades marched out. tramp--tramp--it sounded terribly like a host in retreat! then quiet!--with the third-graders sitting silent in their seats, trying to calculate how many thousand years it would take for that long clock-hand to move half-way round the dial again. louise began wondering at just what point rudolph kreisler would steal out of his hiding and break for home. the rain had stopped, and she hoped and believed that the little german would make good his escape before the third grade had finished serving sentence. suddenly luke, raising his hand, asked of the substitute: "may i speak to billy hastings on business?" the substitute was writing something and assented without looking up. louise could not help hearing the hoarsely whispered "business." "connie tipton," said luke to billy, "says that that german spy has been hiding in the basement but has slipped up-stairs--" the hoarse whisper dropped lower at this point and louise could not catch the words which followed. she guessed darkly, however, and clung to her desk tighter and tighter. at that fateful moment the substitute looked up and said: "children, the others have all gone, and it looks like rain again, so i am going to dismiss you. file out quietly--i don't wish to have to call you back." she did not rise from her seat to marshal them out, taking care that the last one of them was out of sight of the schoolhouse before he slackened his pace. she merely dropped her eyes to her writing again and left them practically to their own devices. the boys marched through the cloaking-room first, and they were ominously quiet about it. then the little girls rose and filed out. louise led the girls' line, but though she followed swiftly in the wake of the boys, they had disappeared off the face of the earth when she reached the cloaking-room door which opened into the hall. they had slipped off to hunt for rudolph kreisler, and louise knew it. she hoped that rudolph had left the building, but she was not sure. something must be done--but _what_? just then she caught from above the sound of tiptoeing and whispering. it was dishonorable to "tattle," but it wasn't dishonorable to fly after a set of lawless boys and keep them from abusing an innocent would-be american. louise deserted the head of her line and darted up the long stairs. it was like a frightful nightmare--the stealthy, breathless chase which followed. she could not stop the boys in their mad search, could not command their attention a moment to explain. in and out they darted--fourth-grade, fifth-grade, sixth-grade, seventh! every crack and cranny, every cloaking-room and teacher's desk was made to prove its innocence of sheltering the fugitive spy. the scampering boys were just finishing their search of the seventh grade when louise found herself at the foot of the garret steps. she stopped and surveyed their boxed-up secretiveness. what if rudolph had gone up there? from the sounds of disappointment now issuing from the seventh grade she knew that the last schoolroom to be searched had not yielded up the quarry. yes, rudolph must be in the garret, and of course the boys would pursue him there! then a sudden idea came to her. if she could but reach rudolph first she might help him to climb out of the garret window. up the dark steps she flew, but, alas! there were flying feet to follow! the others had seen, and were coming after. they caught up with her before she reached the top, and she and they burst into the long garret room together. it was big with mystery--that long garret place--and weirdly frightening with its half-lights and whole shadows. for one moment the children stood at pause before its awesome silence. no german spy was in sight. then the boys began searching hurriedly, and after a quick glance about the open and lighter space before them, went pushing their quest farther and farther into the distant dark of the wings and gables. louise stood where they had left her, with the feeling that _the end of all things_ was at hand, and that there was no use to struggle further. presently her mist-dimmed eyes were attracted to a pile of something over at a small window near where she stood. the janitor had thrown their beautiful flag across an old couch without taking the trouble to roll it properly. the indignant little girl started toward the couch to straighten out and roll the flag when her ear caught a sound which caused her to pause a moment in dim speculation. there was a step below, a firm, a familiar step--but no, she must be mistaken! she slipped over to the couch, but the next moment drew back and clapped her hand over her mouth to repress a startled scream. a little yellow-haired boy lay asleep upon the couch, with the big flag nearly covering him! louise leaned over him. two shining drops still lay on his cheek. he had sobbed himself to sleep--he was such a _little_ boy! [illustration: "you can't touch rudolph!" she tried. "he's under the flag!"] a drift of damp air floated in from the window, and the sleeper shivered and moved as if to cuddle further under his shelter. louise very gently drew the bunting folds closer about his neck. somehow she _knew_ that this was not desecration. that steady step from below again and--nearer! but just at that moment the boys came noisily back from the distant wings and gables. "hello, louise! what are you doing there?" luke musgrove called. louise started up. she was between them and the sleeping boy, but she could not screen him from their astonished eyes. "gee, but there he is!" exclaimed billy. "let's----" but the spirit of a long line of just and fair americans was facing them. louise carey was descended from ancestors who had bought freedom and fair play with their blood, so in that hour--when she faced the unthinking lawless--there was a something in her eyes which brought them to a stand before her. "you can't touch rudolph!" she cried. "he's under the flag!" a quiet fell upon them. they looked first at the sacred, sheltering flag of their country, and then at each other. and while they yet paused in awe there came to them the sound of a steady, familiar step on the garret stair. the next moment the door opened and there entered miss barclay--the teacher who, by her wisdom and her justice, could always command to stillness the tempests of their childish hearts. america first little riego yañez was a native of mexico--of that unhappy part of mexico which is constantly plundered by revolutionary bands who spend their time in fighting, and who win their supplies by robbing the more stable people of the republic. riego's father, antonio yañez, had suffered many times at the hands of the revolutionists. he was a saddler by trade, and also a small farmer, so the products of his industry were just what the warring bandits needed. but the warring bandits did not pay for what they needed. they merely took, and rode away! so antonio decided on a desperate step--he would emigrate to america. but riego's mother objected to removing to america. mexico was rife with hatred and distrust of the "gringos," and many and dark were the stories told of the country north of the great north river. besides, riego's elder brother, pascual, an unruly lad of fifteen, was very bitterly opposed to the change. so it was at length decided that antonio should dare alone the dangers and hardships of america. if all was as the revolutionists said, he could escape back to chihuahua. if, by happy chance, he should prosper in the new country, he would send for wife and children. a year passed. the father's letters--few and short, for he had had little schooling--were chiefly concerned with begging them to come and see for themselves. then, one never-to-be-forgotten day, the mother and children packed into a hired wagon the tragic little which the bandits had left them, and set their faces toward the rio grande. they, too, were bound for that distrusted country which lay north of the northern edge of their world. the mother and the two girls were hopeful, but pascual was silent and riego afraid. not till the night came down did they reach the dark river which was to flow forever between the old life and the new. to little ten-year-old riego this all-pervading darkness meant "america," for to his drowsy brain and anxious heart the black clouds above and the darkly rolling waters below seemed to typify the spirit of the land into which he was crossing. another moment, however, and he had given up the struggle to think it all out and fallen asleep with his head on his mother's lap. the next morning riego waked up in a better land. he sat up on his cot and blinked his black eyes and stared about him at the cosey little room. a flood of light poured in at the one tiny window--then the sun _did_ shine in this land of the gringos! this was very interesting. riego hurried into his clothes and started out to see america. his route of exploration led through a cheery kitchen, where he found his two sisters busy cooking breakfast, and smiling and chatting at their work. but riego had no time to stop and question, for the green things in the little garden beyond were beckoning to him. in another minute he was out among them. it was very green--this "america"--very green and very sunny, with rows upon rows of the most wonderful vegetables running out to meet the morning sun! soon riego glimpsed his father and mother beyond a dividing fence at the side, and he ran at once to his father's arms. after the first long embrace riego drew back, the better to see the father who had dared america alone for his children's sake. why--his brow was smoother than riego remembered!--his eyes clearer!--did one grow younger, happier, in america? and now riego's mother was calling his attention to the snow-white chickens which fluttered about them. there was a cow, too, riego learned--a cow and a pony and pigs and pigeons--and _all theirs_! riego shouted for joy. but the next moment the joy died upon his lips, and he asked: "the revolutionists, father? how long will they let us have these?" "riego," said his father, "there are no revolutionists in america. here, if a man works, he receives a just reward, and he is allowed to keep in peace what he earns. our only danger is from across the border." then riego's mother told him that his father had a fine saddle-shop which the americans never raided. it was all very, very wonderful!--a man was paid well for working, and could keep in peace what he earned!--was this what was meant by "_america_"? riego's father's saddle-shop was the front room of their little dwelling, and opened immediately upon a small street in the mexican quarter of the village. it was a very interesting place, indeed, for the wide door and the hospitable bench just inside invited in many an entertaining visitor, besides the men who came to buy saddles or to have their harness repaired. one of these visitors, alonzo lorente, was particularly interesting to riego and his brother, though their father always became moodily quiet when the man came. lorente was a big, dashing fellow, full of strange oaths and of dark insinuations. and somehow, whenever he entered, the air of the shop became electric with an indefinable excitement. it did not take riego long to see that, at such times, his father managed to keep him and pascual so busy that they missed most of their hero's inspiriting talk. riego was particularly unfortunate in this respect. he spent little of his time in the shop where his father and pascual plied the saddler's trade, for it was his duty to help in the market-garden. this deprivation of lorente's society, however, had its compensations. it was riego's especial work to peddle their vegetables at the khaki tents of the gringo soldiers a few miles away, and this was very entertaining and exciting in itself, for the soldiers were jolly and kind and said nice things to one. and then, one rainy saturday afternoon, when the peddling was all done, riego sat in his father's shop and listened to alonzo lorente. and alonzo lorente startled him awake with the news that all was not well with the land of america. he spoke darkly of "gringos" and of "vengeance." pascual, riego noticed, crept closer and closer to the big man, till his fingers forgot the leather they should have been stretching. it was then that the unexpected happened. the father, usually so quiet and so busy, suddenly rose from his work-bench and came forward. "lorente," he said, and pascual and riego started at the iron in his tone, "lorente, it is not the busy men who have quarrel with america. it is those who have time to do--much talking!" there was a pause and dead silence, and then lorente the magnificent turned on his heel with a growl and left the shop. then antonio returned to his work-bench, with riego following, but pascual stole to the door and gazed at the receding lorente till his father called him sharply to his duties. one day the father did not open his shop at all. it was closed in honor of the great american festival, riego heard him explain grimly to a follower of lorente, who questioned. and riego heard the follower of lorente laugh scornfully as he strode away. there being no work that day, pascual and riego set out together to explore the yet farther reaches of america. but they had not gone far past the square where loomed the several american stores when they sighted a crowd in a grove of big trees, and heard voices shouting and hands clapping as if in great joy. a number of gringo soldiers were roving about. two were coming leisurely toward them across the green. riego wanted to press forward to see and hear, but his brother jerked him by the sleeve, exclaiming: "it is the americans' great feast-day, the fourth of july. come away!" "but father says _we_ are americans now. why can't we go and hear what they are saying?" riego's voice had risen in his eagerness. the approaching soldiers stopped and looked at him, and riego's heart stopped, too. but the taller of the soldiers saluted him in fine fashion, and addressed to him words of courteous welcome: "don pedro de alvarado-rain-in-the-face-sitting-bull, for such as thou art is the picnic! welcome to our city!" riego understood the gesture of invitation. he thanked the courtly soldier, and walked proudly forward, followed by his brother. it was a gay scene, but quiet now, for someone was speaking. the starry banner of america fluttered everywhere, and smiling, white-faced señoritas and brown-clad soldiers were gathered here and there in listening groups. under a tree, near the platform, sat musicians with shining silver horns and a big drum. a number of children were seated on the grass in front of the stand. among them, riego noticed, were many dark faces like his own. suddenly riego's courage gave way and he started to retreat. but a sweet-faced señora took him by the hand and led him and pascual to a place where they could see everything, whispering as they went: "it is our day of freedom." at first the boy was dazed by the strangeness of the scene, and his interest shifted. but the sound of a sweet, ringing voice soon compelled his attention and he turned quickly toward the platform. riego caught his breath. who was it? _what_ was it that was speaking to him? in the centre of the platform stood a clear-eyed, white-faced goddess, with the flag of the new country draped around her slender form, and the sunlight of this day of freedom beating down upon her shining head. she was speaking, but in the difficult new tongue. riego could not take his eyes away, but he reached out his hand quickly to touch pascual. the sweet-faced señora leaned over him. "america," she whispered in explanation. _america!_ beautiful america! riego crept forward, unconscious now of the crowd around. oh, to _understand_ america! then a strange thing happened. the beautiful goddess suddenly ceased speaking, and her face became clouded with thought. her eyes were focussed on the eager boy who had crept forward and was standing spellbound before her--the most conspicuous of the group of dark-faced, bewildered children. riego did not know that everybody in that audience had suddenly leaned forward in dead silence. after one tense moment the beautiful one advanced to the edge of the platform and descended the steps till she stood almost among them. and now this strange, new, better country was speaking to riego _in his own tongue_! "you didn't _understand_ me, did you?" she asked in spanish. "not _then_, my lady!--but _now_!" it was riego who answered her, but the other dark faces were alight like his own now. the crowd was leaning forward again. "ah, that is all the trouble!" said the beautiful one. "our new people simply do not understand america! do you wish me to tell you the story in spanish?" there were many who answered this time. then she told them in their own tongue of the great struggle for a new freedom and a new peace which had been waged upon this soil over a hundred years before. and the breathless children heard how this new ideal of freedom had passed all bounds of the country in which it was born, and thrilled all lands. they heard how the noble la fayette of france, steuben of prussia, and kosciuszko of poland each had offered his all that america might be forever a refuge for the oppressed. they learned how the german de kalb had laid down his life at camden for the new faith, and how count pulaski had poured out the last drop of his polish blood to make the world's great dream of freedom "come true." then the beautiful one told the children how, throughout the more than one hundred years since the fight was won, the footsore and oppressed of many lands have found in america work and a just reward for working, the freedom to do anything which does not harm another, and the great gift of peace! "and now," exclaimed the speaker, "which of you will promise with me to be loyal to america? stand up!" and they stood up--the dark children, the white-faced señoritas, the gringo soldiers, and all!--and repeated after the beautiful one: "i pledge allegiance to my flag and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all." when riego turned from the inspiring scene it was to see his brother pascual walking away, and in close conversation with alonzo lorente. * * * * * the days passed, but riego still treasured in his heart his first vision of america. he knew now that the beautiful one was only a charming señorita and daughter of the big captain who commanded at the american camp. but he liked to think of her as "america"--the beneficent goddess who had smoothed the furrows from his father's brow and crowned his faithful labors with reward. and then, one momentous day, the beautiful one stood in the shop-door, asking in spanish if she might be allowed to enter. she was all in white this time--snow-white. to riego's fond imagination she was still a shining goddess. riego's father welcomed the señorita and dusted the bench that she might sit and rest, for riego had told him of the great american festival, and antonio had learned much besides. the señorita had come to speak to the father about his sons--and her smiling glance included both the sullen pascual and riego, who stood worshipfully by. it seemed that the señorita--miss flora arden was her name--was to teach a class of "newly made americans," and again her glance included the boys. she wanted to teach them to speak the english language and to help them to a better understanding of america. the señorita believed that most of the trouble which the newly made americans encountered was due to the fact that they did not know how to find and use the good gifts which their new country had to offer. and she was certain that most of the trouble they _gave_ was because they brought old prejudices with them, and so did not open their hearts to america. riego understood the spirit of her proposal better than he did the words of her correct spanish. his father listened throughout with thoughtful, grave attention. there were no charges to be made for this teaching? then what was the señorita to gain for so much effort? "i?" said the señorita--she was standing now, ready to depart--"i gain a better country! my father is a soldier and serves his country by helping to keep the peace along this troubled border. if i had been a son i might have done as much. but i am only a daughter, antonio! and yet"--and she put her arm over riego's shoulders as she spoke--"if i help to make loyal even _one_ of america's adopted sons, am not i, too, serving my country?" the father's rare smile assented to her offer, even before his lips made the promise. riego followed the beautiful one to the door. outside, alonzo lorente slouched against a lamp-post. the señorita looked into lorente's face and recoiled slightly. riego saw the recoil, and an unnamed fear suddenly laid its hand upon his heart. * * * * * pascual and riego went to miss arden's class--pascual sullen and uninterested, riego breathlessly eager. but they had not attended many times--indeed, had just begun to glimpse something of the bigness and goodness of their new country--when the stroke fell that was to change their little world. the good father dropped at his work-bench, speechless and bewildered. the american doctor said he would be able to work again, but that his mind would never be quite the same. their wise father thus reduced to childishness, and their mother ignorant of the new conditions and the new tongue, the boys were left to plan for themselves. pascual left miss arden's class. he explained that he would now have to take charge of his father's shop; but he found time to make many trips across the dark rio grande and to talk much with lorente, who now resumed his old practice of dropping in at the shop to chat. his younger brother, however, continued under the señorita's instruction. riego learned at miss arden's class that "freedom" gives one the right to do as he wishes only in so far as he does not wish to interfere with the rights of another. "there is no 'freedom' except in loyal obedience to law," she told him one day. "america is a 'free' country because--though here are gathered people from all lands--they join together in making laws which are kind and impartial to all, and they stand together in support of the laws they make." "but, señorita, alonzo lorente says--" began the boy, and stopped short. "what does alonzo lorente say?" the señorita asked quickly. "i--i promised not to tell," stammered the child. there was the blue truth of heaven in the señorita's eyes as she looked into his own, and answered: "riego, it is more than dishonest in lorente to accept the blessings which america affords him and not be true to her. it is worse than traitorous in him to help spoil the peace of the country which is his refuge from oppression. if alonzo lorente likes the old way better than the new, he should go back to the old country. if he honestly wishes to change what he finds here, and thinks he can better things, he has one man's just share in deciding, for he is a naturalized citizen and can vote on any question. but alonzo lorente _should speak out openly or else keep silent_!" before riego left that afternoon miss arden had him repeat with her: "i pledge allegiance to my flag and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all." but little riego did not dream in how short a time would his loyalty to his new country be tested. one afternoon--his father was still lying unconscious--riego was tending the shop alone, for pascual had crossed the rio grande in the early morning and had not yet returned. it was a dull, dull afternoon, for no patrons came, and the visitors merely glanced in and passed on. it was hot and still, so the sleepy riego decided to rest. he found a cool spot behind a pile of boxes, and lay down and closed his eyes. * * * * * when riego opened his eyes again it was with a start. there were voices--smothered voices--some men were in the shop! riego lay still and listened. "we will attack the gringo camp to-night--just before dawn," a smothered voice was saying. "alva has three hundred men and more. they can easily surprise and destroy these eighty americans, and so can seize their horses and ammunition." "but the patrol?" it was pascual's voice that whispered the question. riego's heart turned sick. he recognized the voice of lorente in the terrifying reply: "pacheco and a picked few will knife the patrol at the ford, then alva's men will cross, and approach the camp up the ravine." "to-morrow morning?" pascual's voice asked. "yes, just before dawn." there were approaching steps on the street. a customer entered. riego heard lorente departing--heard the customer inquire the price of a saddle, and go out. it must be done _now_--now while pascual was alone, and he could speak to him! the next moment riego stood before his brother. "i heard you!" he cried. "pascual, they _must not_!" but pascual laid a fierce hand upon his breast and pinned him to the wall. it was a terrible scene--that which followed--terrible in the tense quiet of its enactment--terrible in its outcome! with riego pinned against the wall where he needs must listen, pascual poured forth such a torrent of abuse, of falsehood, against the "gringos" that at length the old hate blood leapt in the younger boy's veins and went beating through his brain. the gringos were their enemies--_enemies_! the men who were coming down upon them with the dawn were of their own blood, of their native country! what if the invaders _were_ "revolutionists"? were they not _mexican_? talk of "loyalty"--one must be loyal to _one's own_! when pascual loosed his grip upon the slight form it was after he had stirred to the very dregs all that was passionate, all that was ignorant and prejudiced and violent, in the boy's nature. that afternoon riego did not report at miss arden's class, but long after class hour he was obliged to pass her house on the mission to deliver a mended harness to a farmer living near the american camp. miss arden and her mother, riego knew, were the only members of the big captain's family. they lived in a large house in the woods, half-way between the town and the camp. he knew also that the big captain stayed in camp. as riego emerged from the long stretch of lonely woods which separated miss arden's house from the town, and as he faced the other long stretch of woods which lay between him and the camp, the boy was struck by the isolation of the señorita's home. he reflected, however, that alva's men were to attack the gringo soldiers by way of the ford, and that the ford lay to the right yonder, far out of connection with the captain's house. he was glad--glad that alva's men would not come that way! suddenly he spied the señorita herself. she was standing on the steps of her father's home. riego's heart bounded within him at sight of her. he pulled down his hat and hoped to pass unrecognized, but the sweet, familiar voice called: "riego!" he did not answer. then she ran down the steps to him, and put her gentle hands upon him, turning him to her against his will. "what is the matter, riego?" she asked. no answer. "you didn't come to class this afternoon." no answer. "i'm sorry," she said, after a moment of silence in which she looked searchingly into his face, "because we had an interesting lesson to-day. it was all about what one ought to do in case one should be forced to _choose between_ the old land and the new." the boy gave a swift, upward glance at her, then dropped his eyes to the ground again. miss arden continued, and her voice was very serious now: "and we decided, riego, that one ought to think out carefully which country was really the better, and be true to that, because there is a higher duty than that to party or country, and that is--to the principles of justice and freedom." riego's head sank lower. the beautiful one took one of his brown hands into her own. "and we said"--was she looking into the dark heart of him?--"that whichever way one chose, one should choose _openly_. now this little brown hand could never----" but the little brown hand was snatched away, and with a great sob the child fled into the woods. when at last that night riego did fall asleep he dreamed that his beautiful america came to him with her white arms held out in appeal, and that he slipped a dagger out of his bosom and stabbed her to the heart. he started, awake, and sat up. it was black dark. _had alva struck already? or was there yet time?_ ten feet away was pascual's cot--he must not wake pascual! as still as death he slipped out of his bed, pulled on his overalls that he had hung near, and crept out into the moonless night. riego could not think--it was all so desperate! he could only respond to the heart that was in him, and creep forward through the dark. but his feet knew the road that he took, though his brain was reeling. he was going straight to the one who had wakened the new loyalty in him--his beautiful america! "i pledge allegiance to my flag and to the republic for which it stands," went surging through him as he struggled on. riego was not grandly heroic; he was only a frightened little boy, but determined now to do his loyal best for the country that had sheltered him from oppression. and so, though the treacherous sands might seek to drag him down, though the dark chaparral yonder might hide--any fearsome thing!--riego went forward. and now the house of the big captain loomed black before him. riego stole up the front steps. he knew behind which of the long, closed windows the señorita slept, and he approached and tapped fearfully upon it. it was a frightened voice that called: "who is _that_?" riego was not conscious how he answered, but he knew that a wave of relief flowed over him when the blind of the long window opened and he was drawn into the dark room by a pair of familiar hands. the blind was closed after him and a light was struck. the señorita's eyes were disclosed big and startled; her face was as white as the long robe she wore. "what _is_ it, riego?" she gasped. "they are coming!" he whispered. "who?" she exclaimed, catching him by the shoulders, "_who?_" "alva," the boy answered, "and three hundred with him. they are going to surprise--our soldiers--and kill them while they sleep!" the señorita sprang to the telephone. she pulled down the lever many, many times, then she staggered back against the wall. "they have cut the wires!" she cried. "riego, you and i must take the warning!" "to the camp?" the boy cried in dismay. "yes, there's no one within a mile of here that could take it but us!" "but the mexicans have spies over there," the boy moaned. "they will find us in the dark with their knives!" she had flung on a long cloak, and was hurriedly fastening her shoes. "then you stay here and i'll go," she said. "_you?_" cried the startled child--then--"it is dark out there, my lady; i'll go with you." they extinguished the light and stole out together to the stable, but the horses were gone! desperate now, they started out afoot. the treacherous sand again and the black dark! but they crept along together. then suddenly the boy's courage gave way and he clung to the cloaked figure, sobbing: "señorita! señorita! i am _afraid_!" the señorita was trembling, too, and her voice broke as she whispered: "you and i don't make very good heroes, do we?" they had come to a standstill and were clinging together in the dark. suddenly there was a sound of something approaching---the velvet tread of an unshod pony in the sand! the rider passed. when they breathed again the señorita took him strongly by the shoulders. "riego," she whispered--and there was no break in her voice now--"we must separate. one of us must go straight to the ford and warn the patrol, the other to camp." "but it is near the ford that pacheco is hiding," the boy replied. "i'll go to the ford," she said simply. "no, my lady, _i_ go--you take the news to camp." and before she could detain him the boy turned at a sharp angle and plunged into the deeper blackness of the chaparral. * * * * * a long nightmare intervened between their parting and the time when the half-dead boy clung to the saddle of the patrol and whispered to him: "keep to the open, señor; there are men with knives in the chaparral! help is coming!" then, somehow, everything was blotted out for riego. when consciousness came again to the boy, the cool air of the dawn was choked with dust clouds till he could not see ten feet before him and his ears were nearly bursting with the thunder-beat of frantic hoofs. dim horses were rearing and plunging against the reddening dawn. there were shouts and cries and firing! firing! who was losing? who was _winning_? dear god, alva's men were sweeping back across the rio grande! one little frightened boy had saved the day for the country that had given him refuge from oppression. but what was that? a call for help? _whose voice was that?_ riego plunged into the thick of the dust cloud toward the cry, and dropped by pascual's side. how could he have known that his brother would ride that night with the invaders! but pascual was striving to speak. riego leaned over him and caught the whisper: "lorente shot me down to get my horse and escape!" and now the gringos were circling round the wounded one--they would beat out his brains with their guns! but--but--why, they were lifting him up, and _tenderly_! the americans were lifting up his wounded brother! * * * * * many and bewildering were the things which happened to riego in the next few hours. first, he and the all-but-dead pascual were carried by the soldiers to the american camp. then his brother was taken away from him and borne into a closed tent. the soldiers gathered around riego and patted him on the shoulder. they gave him many things--things to eat and coins and pocket-knives and tobacco-tags, all the while challenging him to smile--he whose captured brother was yonder! later the big captain sent for him and took him by the hand. "riego yañez," he said, "i am proud to shake hands with an american hero!" at length a tall soldier came to riego and led him to the closed tent. but the tall soldier did not enter; he merely pushed the boy inside the tent and dropped the khaki flap. riego blinked his eyes. somebody was lying stretched out on a cot, and somebody was fanning him--the beautiful one and his brother! riego crept toward her suddenly outstretched hands. then he leaned over pascual. but pascual's eyes were closed and on his face was a yellow pallor. "the surgeon has taken out the ball," whispered the beautiful one. "he will live, with good nursing, and i am on the job." she paused a moment, then asked, as she looked into his face with concern: "aren't you happy, you tragic little soldier? why don't you smile at the good news?" "how--" began the child--and a strange, sick feeling swept over him--"how long before he will be well enough to be stood against a wall--and----" "why, you poor child!"--and the big tears sprang to the señorita's eyes--"your brother will not be stood against a wall and shot for treason--never--_never_! and he's not going to be shut up in prison, either!" [illustration: "riego yañez," he said. "i am proud to shake hands with an american hero!"] "but why, señorita? why? the big captain knows that he was with alva's men." "he is young--just a boy," and the señorita laid a tender hand upon the head of the wounded lad. "he is the son of good parents and brother to---- oh, you tragic little soldier, can't you guess who it is has saved your brother?" "_you_, señorita?" "_yourself_, riego. because you have been heroically loyal they are to give your brother another chance. we americans, riego"--and her white hand closed upon his own to include him with her--"we americans are going to nurse pascual back to a better life and teach him how to be free!" the sick lad stirred on his cot. when the beautiful one leaned over him in quick solicitude, he smiled. the scribner series of school reading a uniform series for supplementary reading in schools. each, mo, _net_, *$ . . hero tales told in school. by james baldwin. illustrated. herakles, the hero of thebes, and other heroes of the myth. by mary e. burt and zenaide ragezin. illustrated. odysseus: the hero of ithaca. by mary e. burt. illustrated. the boy general. by mrs. george a. custer and mary e. burt. illustrated. don quixote de la mancha. by miguel de cervantes. from the translations of duffield and shelton. by mary e. burt and lucy leffingwell cable. the cable story book. selections for school reading. by george w. cable. edited by mary e. burt and lucy l. cable. illustrated. the hoosier school boy. by edward eggleston. illustrated. the eugene field book. verses, stories, and letters for school reading. by eugene field. edited by mary e. burt and mary l. cable. with an introduction by george w. cable. illustrated. the howells story book. by william dean howells. selected and arranged by mary e. burt. illustrated by miss howells. the lanier book. selections for school reading. by sidney lanier. edited and arranged by mary e. burt, in co-operation with mrs. lanier. illustrated. the page story book. selections for school reading by thomas nelson page. edited by frank e. spalding and catherine t. bryce. poems of american patriotism. chosen by brander matthews. some merry adventures of robin hood. by howard pyle. illustrated by the author. the roosevelt book. selections from the writings of theodore roosevelt, with an introduction by robert bridges. illustrated. a child's garden of verses. by robert louis stevenson. illustrated. krag and johnny bear. being the personal histories of krag, randy, johnny bear, and chink. by ernest thompson seton. illustrated. lobo, rag, and vixen. selections from "wild animals i have known." by ernest thompson seton. with full-page and many other illustrations from drawings by the author. twelve naval captains. with portraits. by molly elliott seawell. fanciful tales. by frank r. stockton. edited by julia e. langworthy. illustrated. around the world in the sloop spray. by captain joshua slocum. illustrated. the van dyke book. selections for school reading. by henry van dyke. edited and arranged by professor edwin mims, with biographical sketch by miss van dyke. illustrated. children's stories of american literature, - . by henrietta christian wright. children's stories of american literature, - . by henrietta christian wright. children's stories in american history. by henrietta christian wright. children's stories in american progress. by henrietta christian wright. transcriber's note * punctuation errors have been corrected. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustration. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) the banner boy scouts snowbound or a tour on skates and iceboats by george a. warren author of "the banner boy scouts," "the musket boys of old boston," etc. illustrated [illustration: "look out! the second cat!" yelled paul. _the banner boy scouts snowbound page _] the saalfield publishing co. akron, ohio--new york made in u. s. a. copyright, , by cupples & leon company contents chapter page i. on the frozen bushkill ii. when the old ice-house fell iii. the rescue iv. a quick return for services rendered v. a startling interruption vi. a gloomy prospect for jud vii. paul takes a chance viii. bobolink and the storekeeper ix. "fire!" x. the accusation xi. friends of the scouts xii. the iceboat squadron xiii. on the way xiv. the ring of steel runners xv. tolly tip and the forest cabin xvi. the first night out xvii. "tip-ups" for pickerel xviii. the helping hand of a scout xix. news of big game xx. at the beaver pond xxi. setting the flashlight trap xxii. waylaid in the timber xxiii. the blizzard xxiv. the duty of the scout xxv. among the snowdrifts xxvi. dug out xxvii. "first aid" xxviii. more startling news xxix. the wild dog pack xxx. a change of plans xxxi. good-bye to deer head lodge xxxii. the capture of the hobo yeggmen xxxiii. conclusion preface dear boys:-- once more it is my privilege to offer you a new volume wherein i have endeavored to relate further interesting adventures in which the members of stanhope troop of boy scouts take part. most of my readers, i feel sure, remember paul, jud, bobolink, jack and many of the other characters, and will gladly greet them as old friends. to such of you who may be making the acquaintance of these manly young chaps for the first time i can only say this. i trust your interest in their various doings along the line of scoutcraft will be strong enough to induce you to secure the previous volumes in this series in order to learn at first hand of the numerous achievements they have placed to their credit. the boys comprising the original red fox patrol won the beautiful banner they own in open competition with other rival organizations. from that day, now far in the past, stanhope troop has been known as the banner boy scouts. its possession has always served as an inspiration to paul and his many staunch comrades. every time they see its silken folds unfurled at the head of their growing marching line they feel like renewing the vows to which they so willingly subscribed on first joining the organization. many of their number, too, are this day proudly wearing on their chests the medals they have won through study, observation, service, thrift, or acts of heroism, such as saving human life at the risk of their own. i trust that all my many young readers will enjoy the present volume fully as much as they did those that have appeared before now. hoping, then, to meet you all again before a great while in the pages of another book; and with best wishes for every lad who aspires to climb the ladder of leadership in his home troop, believe me, cordially yours, george a. warren. the banner boy scouts snowbound chapter i on the frozen bushkill "watch jack cut his name in the ice, fellows!" "i wish i could do the fancy stunts on skates he manages to pull off. it makes me green with envy to watch jack stormways do that trick." "oh, shucks! what's the use of saying that, wallace carberry, when everybody knows your strong suit is long-distance skating? the fact is both the carberry twins are as much at home on the ice as i am when i get my knees under the supper table." "that's kind of you to throw bouquets my way, bobolink. but, boys, stop and think. here it is--only four days now to christmas, and the scouts haven't made up their minds yet where to spend the glorious holidays." "y-y-yes, and b-b-by the same token, this year we're g-g-going to g-g-get a full three-weeks' vacation in the b-b-bargain, b-b-because they have t-t-to overhaul the f-f-furnaces." "hold on there, bluff shipley! if you keep on falling all over yourself like that you'll have to take a whole week to rest up." "all the same," remarked the boy who answered to the odd name of bobolink, "it's high time we scouts settled that important matter for good." "the assistant scout-master, paul morrison, has called a meeting at headquarters for to-night, you understand, boys," said the fancy skater, who had just cut the name of paul morrison in the smooth, new ice of the bushkill river. "we must arrange the programme then," observed bobolink, "because it will take a couple of days to get everything ready for the trip, no matter where we go." "huh!" grunted another skater, "i can certainly see warm times ahead for the cook at _your_ house, bobolink, provided you've still got that ferocious appetite to satisfy." "oh! well, tom betts," laughed the other, "i notice that you seldom take a back seat when the grub is being passed around. as for me i'm proud of my stowage ability. a good appetite is one of the greatest blessings a growing boy can have." "pity the poor father though," chuckled wallace carberry, "because he has to pay the freight." "just to go back to the important subject," said bluff shipley, who could speak as clearly as any one when not excited, "where do you think the scouts will hike to for their christmas holidays?" "well, now, a winter camp on rattlesnake mountain wouldn't be such a bad stunt," suggested tom betts, quickly. "for my part," remarked bobolink, "i'd rather like to visit lake tokala again, and see what cedar island looks like in the grip of jack frost. the skating on that sheet of water must be great." "we certainly did have a royal good time there last summer," admitted jack, reflectively. "all the same," ventured tom, "i think i know one scout who couldn't be coaxed or hired to camp on cedar island again." "meaning curly baxter," bobolink went on to say scornfully, "who brazenly admits he believes in ghosts, and couldn't be convinced that the place wasn't haunted." "curly won't be the only fellow to back out," suggested jack. "while we have a membership of over thirty on the muster roll of stanhope troop, it isn't to be expected that more than half of them will agree to make the outing with us." "too much like hard work for some of the boys," asserted tom. "i know a number who say they'd like to be with us, but their folks object to a winter camp," wallace announced. "so if we muster a baker's dozen we can call ourselves lucky." "of course it must be a real snow and ice hike this time," suggested bluff. "to be sure--and on skates at that!" cried wallace, enthusiastically. "oh! i hope there's a chance to use our iceboats too!" sighed tom betts, who late that fall had built a new flier, and never seemed weary of sounding the praises of his as yet untried "speedaway." "perhaps we may--who knows?" remarked jack, mysteriously. the others, knowing that the speaker was the nearest and dearest chum of paul morrison, assistant scout-master of stanhope troop of boy scouts, turned upon him eagerly on hearing this suggestive remark. "you know something about the plans, jack!" "sure he does, and he ought to give us a hint in the bargain!" "come, take pity on us, won't you, jack?" but the object of all this pleading only shook his head and smiled as he went on to say: "i'm bound to secrecy, fellows, and you wouldn't have me break my word to our patrol leader. just hold your horses a little while longer and you'll hear everything. we're going to talk it over to-night and settle the matter once for all. now let's drop the subject. here's a new wrinkle i'm trying out." with that jack started to spin around on his skates, and fairly dazzled his mates with the wonderful ability he displayed as a fancy skater. while they are thus engaged a few words of explanation may not come in amiss. stanhope troop consisted of three full patrols, with another almost completed. though in the flood tide of success at the time we make the acquaintance of the boys in this volume there were episodes in the past history of the troop to which the older scouts often referred with mingled emotions of pride and wonder. the present status of the troop had not been maintained without many struggles. envious rivals had tried to make the undertaking a failure, while doubting parents had in many cases to be shown that association with the scouts would be a thing of unequalled advantage to their boys. those who have read the previous books of this series have doubtless already formed a warm attachment for the members of the red fox patrol and their friends, and will be greatly pleased to follow their fortunes again. for the benefit of those who are making their acquaintance for the first time it may be stated that besides jack stormways and the four boys who were with him on the frozen bushkill this december afternoon, the roster of the red fox patrol counted three other names. these were paul morrison, the leader, the other carberry twin, william by name, and a boy whom they called "nuthin," possibly because his name chanced to be albert cypher. as hinted at in the remarks that flew between the skaters circling around, many of the members of the troop had spent a rollicking vacation the previous summer while aboard a couple of motor boats loaned to them by influential citizens of their home town. the strange adventures that had befallen the scouts on this cruise through winding creeks and across several lakes have been given in the pages of the volume preceding this book, called "the banner boy scouts afloat; or, the secret of cedar island." ever since their return from that cruise the boys had talked of little else; and upon learning that the christmas holidays would be lengthened this season the desire to take another tour had seized upon them. after jack so summarily shut down upon the subject no one ventured to plead with him any longer. all knew that he felt bound in honor to keep any secret he had been entrusted with by the assistant scout-master--for paul often had to act in place of mr. gordon, a young traveling salesman, who could not be with the boys as much as he would have liked. jack had just finished cutting the new figure, and his admirers were starting to give vent to their delight over his cleverness when suddenly there came a strange roaring sound that thrilled every one of them through and through. it was as if the frozen river were breaking up in a spring thaw. some of the boys even suspected that there was danger of being swallowed up in such a catastrophe, and had started to skate in a frenzy of alarm for the shore when the voice of bobolink arose above the clamor. "oh! look there, will you, fellows?" he shouted, pointing a trembling finger up the river. "the old ice-house has caved in, just as they feared it would. see the ice cakes sliding everywhere! and i saw men and girls near there just five minutes ago. they may be caught under all that wreckage for all we know! jack, what shall we do about it?" "come on, every one of you!" roared jack stormways, as he set off at full speed. "this means work for the scouts! to the rescue, boys! hurry! hurry!" chapter ii when the old ice-house fell never before in the recollection of any stanhope boy had winter settled in so early as it had this year. they seldom counted on having their first skate on the new ice before christmas, and yet for two weeks now some of the most daring had been tempting providence by venturing on the surface of the frozen bushkill. the ice company had built a new house the preceding summer, though the old one was still fairly well filled with a part of the previous season's great crop. its sides had bulged out in a suspicious manner, so that many had predicted some sort of catastrophe, but somehow the old building had weathered every gale, though it leaned to the south sadly. the company apparently hoped it would hold good until they had it emptied during the next summer, when they intended to build another new structure on the spot. as the five boys started to skate at utmost speed up the river they heard a medley of sounds. a panic had evidently struck such boys and girls as were skimming over the smooth ice in protected bayous near the ice-houses. instead of hurrying to the assistance of those who may have been caught in the fallen timbers of the wrecked building they were for the most part fleeing from the scene, some of them shrieking with terror. several men who had been employed near by could be seen standing and staring. it looked as though they hardly knew what to do. if ever there was an occasion where sound common sense and a readiness to grasp a situation were needed it seemed to be just then. and, fortunately, jack stormways was just the boy to meet the conditions. he sped up the river like an arrow from the bow, followed by the four other scouts. the frightened girls who witnessed their passage always declared that never had they seen stanhope boys make faster speed, even in a race where a valuable prize was held out as a lure to the victor. as he bore down upon the scene of confusion jack took it all in. those who were floundering amidst the numerous heavy cakes of ice must engage their attention without delay. he paid little heed to the fortunate ones who were able to be on their feet, since this fact alone proved that they could not have been seriously injured. several, however, were not so fortunate, and jack's heart seemed to be almost in his throat when he saw that two of the skaters lay in the midst of the scattered cakes of ice as though painfully injured. "this way, boys!" shouted the boy in the van as they drew near the scene of the accident. "bluff, you and wallace turn and head for that one yonder. bobolink, come with me--and tom betts." five seconds later he was bending over a small girl who lay there groaning and looking almost as white as the snow upon the hills around stanhope. "it's little lucy stackpole!" gasped tom, as he also arrived. "chances are she was hit by one of these big ice cakes when they flew around!" jack looked up. "yes, i'm afraid she's been badly hurt, fellows. it looks to me like a compound fracture of her right leg. she ought to be taken home in a hurry. see if you can round up a sled somewhere, and we'll put her on it." "here's sandy griggs and lub ketcham with just the sort of big sled we need!" cried tom betts, as he turned and beckoned to a couple of stout lads who evidently belonged to one of the other patrols, since they wore the customary campaign hats of the scouts. these boys had by now managed to recover from their great alarm, and in response to the summons came hurrying up, anxious to be of service, as true scouts always are. jack, who had been speaking to the terrified girl, trying to soothe her as best he could, proceeded in a business-like fashion to accomplish the duty he had in hand. "two of you help me lift lucy on to the sled," he said. "we will have to fasten her in some way so there'll be no danger of her slipping. then sandy and lub will drag her to her home. on the way try to get doctor morrison over the 'phone so he can meet you there. the sooner this fracture is attended to the better." "you could do it yourself, jack, if it wasn't so bitter cold out here," suggested tom betts, proudly, for next to paul morrison himself, whose father was the leading physician of stanhope, jack was known to be well up in all matters connected with first aid to the injured. they lifted the suffering child tenderly, and placed her on the comfortable sled. both the newcomers were only too willing to do all they could to carry out the mission of mercy that had been entrusted to their charge. "we'll get her home in short order, jack, never fear," said sandy griggs, as he helped fasten an extra piece of rope around the injured girl, so that she might not slip off the sled. "yes, and have the doctor there in a jiffy, too," added lub, who, while a clumsy chap, in his way had a very tender heart and was as good as gold. "then get a move on you fellows," advised jack. "and while speed is all very good, safety comes first every time, remember." "trust us, jack!" came the ready and confident reply, as the two scouts immediately began to seek a passage among the far-flung ice-cakes that had been so suddenly released from their year's confinement between the walls of the dilapidated ice-house. only waiting to see them well off, jack and the other two once more turned toward the scene of ruin. "see, the boys have managed to get the other girl on her feet!" exclaimed bobolink, with a relieved air; "so i reckon she must have been more scared than hurt, for which i'm right glad. what next, jack? say the word and we'll back you to the limit." "we must take a look around the wreck of the ice-house," replied the other, "though i hardly believe any one could have been inside at the time it fell." "whew, i should surely hope not!" cried tom; "for the chances are ten to one he'd be crushed as flat as a pancake before now, with all that timber falling on him. i wouldn't give a snap of my fingers for his life, jack." "let's hope then there's no other victim," said jack. "if there is none, it will let the ice company off easier than they really deserve for allowing so ramshackle a building to stand, overhanging the river just where we like to do most of our skating every winter." "suppose we climb around the timbers and see if we can hear any sound of groaning," suggested bobolink, suiting the action to his words. several men from the other ice-house reached the spot just then. jack turned to them as a measure of saving time. if there were no men working in the wrecked building at the time it fell there did not seem any necessity for attempting to move any of the twisted timbers that lay in such a confused mass. "hello! jan," he called out as the panting laborers arrived. "it was a big piece of luck that none of you were inside the old ice-house when it collapsed just now." the man whom he addressed looked blankly at the boy. jack could see that he was laboring under renewed excitement. "look here! was there any one in the old building, do you know, jan?" he demanded. "i ban see maister garrity go inside yoost afore she smash down," was the startling reply. the boys stared at each other. mr. thomas garrity was a very rich and singular citizen of stanhope. finally bobolink burst out with: "say, you know mr. garrity is one of the owners of these ice-houses, fellows. i guess he must have come up here to-day to see for himself if the old building was as rickety as people said." "huh! then i guess he found out all right," growled tom betts. "never mind that now," said jack, hastily. "mr. garrity never had much use for the scouts, but all the same he's a human being. we've got our duty cut out for us plainly enough." "guess you mean we must clear away this trash with the help of these men here, jack," suggested wallace, eagerly. "just what i had in mind," confessed jack. "but before we start in let's all listen and see if we can hear anything like a groan." all of them stood in an expectant attitude, straining their hearing to the utmost. presently the listeners plainly caught the sound of a groan. chapter iii the rescue "jack, he's here under all this stuff!" called out bobolink, excitedly. "poor old chap," said wallace. "i wouldn't like to give much for his chance of getting out of the scrape with his life." "and to think," added bluff, soberly, "that after all the protestations made by the company that the old house couldn't fall, it trapped one of the big owners when it smashed down. it's mighty queer, it strikes me." "keep still again," warned jack. "i want to call out and see if mr. garrity can hear me." "a bully good scheme, jack!" asserted bobolink. "if we can locate him in that way it may save us a heap of hard work dragging these timbers around." jack dropped flat on his face, and, placing his mouth close to the wreckage where it seemed worst, called aloud: "hello! mr. garrity, can you hear me?" "yes! oh, yes!" came the faint response from somewhere below. "are you badly hurt, sir?" continued the scout. "i don't know--i believe not, but a beam is keeping tons and tons from falling on me. i am pinned down here, and can hardly move. hurry and get some of these timbers off before they fall and crush me!" every word came plainly to their ears now. evidently, mr. garrity, understanding that relief was at hand, began to feel new courage. jack waited for no more. "i reckon i've located him, boys," he told the others, "and now we've got to get busy." "only tell us what to do, jack," urged wallace, "and there are plenty of willing hands here for the work, what with these strong men and the rest of the boys." indeed, already newcomers were arriving, some of them being people who had been passing along the turnpike near by in wagons or sleighs at the time the accident happened, and who hastened to the spot in order to render what assistance they could. jack seemed to know just how to go about the work. if he had been in the house-wrecking business for years he could hardly have improved upon his system. "we've got to be careful, you understand, fellows," he told the others as they labored strenuously to remove the upper timbers from the pile, "because that one timber he mentioned is the key log of the jam. as long as it holds he's safe from being crushed. here, don't try that beam yet, men. take hold of the other one. and bobolink and wallace, help me lift this section of shingles from the roof!" so jack went on to give clear directions. he did not intend that any new accident should be laid at their door on account of too much haste. better that the man who was imprisoned under all this wreckage should remain there a longer period than that he lose his life through carelessness. jack believed in making thorough work of anything he undertook; and this trait marked him as a clever scout. as others came to add to the number of willing workers the business of delving into the wreck of the ice-house proceeded in a satisfactory manner. once in a while jack would call a temporary halt while he got into communication with the unfortunate man they were seeking to assist. "he seems to be all right so far, fellows," was the cheering report he gave after this had happened for the third time; "and i think we'll be able to reach him in a short time now." "as sure as you're born we will, jack!" announced bobolink, triumphantly; "for i can see the big timber he said was acting as a buffer above him. hey! we've got to be extra careful now, because one end of that beam is balanced ever so delicately, and if it gets shoved off its anchorage--good-bye to mr. garrity!" "yes," came from below the wreckage, "be very careful, please, for it's just as you say." jack was more than ever on the alert as the work continued. he watched every move that was made, and often warned those who strained and labored to be more cautious. "in five minutes or so we ought to be able to get something under that loose end of the big timber, jack," suggested bobolink, presently. "in less time than that," he was told. "and here's the very prop to slip down through that opening. i think i can reach it right now, if you stop the work for a bit." he pushed the stout post carefully downward, endeavoring to adjust it so that it was bound to catch and hold the timber should the latter break away from its frail support at that end. when bobolink saw him get up from his knees a minute later he did not need to be told that jack's endeavor had been a success, for the satisfied smile on the other's face told as much. "now let the good work go on with a rush!" called out jack. "not so much danger now, because i've put a crimp in that timber's threat to fall. it's securely wedged. everybody get busy." jack led in the work himself, and the way they removed the heavy beams, many of them splintered or broken in the downward rush of the building, was surely a sight worth seeing. at least some of the town people who came up just then felt they had good reason to be proud of the banner boy scouts, who on other notable occasions had brought credit to the community. "i can see him now!" exclaimed bobolink; and indeed, only a few more weighty fragments remained to be lifted off before jack would be able to drop down into the cavity and assist the prisoner at close quarters. five minutes later the workers managed to release mr. garrity, and jack helped him out of his prison. the old gentleman looked considerably the worse for his remarkable experience. there was blood upon his cheek, and he kept caressing one arm as though it pained him considerably. still his heart was filled with thanksgiving as he stared around at the pile of torn timbers, and considered what a marvelous escape his had been. "let me take a look at your arm, sir," said jack, who feared that it had been broken, because a beam had pinned the gentleman by his arm to the ground. mr. garrity, who up to that time had paid very little attention to the boy scout movement that had swept over that region of the eastern country like wildfire, looked at the eager, boyish faces of his rescuers. it could be seen that he was genuinely affected on noticing that most of them wore the badges that distinguish scouts the world over. "i hope my wrist is not broken, though even that would be a little price to pay for my temerity in entering that shaky old building," he ventured to say as he allowed jack to examine his arm. "i'm glad to tell you, sir," said the boy, quickly, "that it is only a bad sprain. at the worst you will be without the use of that hand for a month or two." "then i have great reason to be thankful," declared mr. garrity, solemnly. "perhaps this may be intended for a lesson to me. and, to begin with, i want to say that i believe i owe my very life to you boys. i can never forget it. others, of course, might have done all they could to dig me out, but only a long-headed boy, like jack stormways here, would have thought to keep that timber from falling and crushing me just when escape seemed certain." he went around shaking hands with each one of the boys, of course using his left arm, since the right was disabled for the time being. jack deftly made a sling out of a red bandana handkerchief, which he fastened around the neck of mr. garrity, and then gently placed the bruised hand in this. "was any other person injured when the ice-house collapsed?" asked mr. garrity, anxiously. "a couple of girls were struck by some of the big cakes flung far and wide," explained bobolink. "little lucy stackpole has a broken leg. we sent her home on a sled, and the doctor will soon be at her house, sir." "that is too bad!" declared the part owner of the building, frowning. "i hoped that the brunt of the accident had fallen on my shoulders alone. of course, the company will be liable for damages, as well as the doctor's bill; and i suppose we deserve to be hit pretty hard to pay for our stupidity. but i am glad it is no worse." "excuse me, mr. garrity, but perhaps you had better have that swelling wrist attended to as soon as possible," remarked jack. "you have some bruises, too, that are apt to be painful for several days. there is a carriage on the road that might be called on to take you home." "thank you, jack, i will do as you say," replied the one addressed. "but depend on it i mean to meet you boys again, and that at a very early date." "we're going to be away somewhere on a midwinter hike immediately after christmas, sir," bobolink thought it best to explain. somehow deep down in his heart he was already wondering whether this remarkable rescue of mr. garrity might not develop into some sort of connection with their partly formed plans. "yes," added bluff, eagerly, suddenly possessed by the same hope, "and it's all going to be settled to-night when we have our monthly meeting in the big room under the church. we'd be pleased to have you drop in and see us, sir. lots of the leading citizens of stanhope have visited our rooms from time to time, but i don't remember ever having seen you there, mr. garrity." "thank you for the invitation, my lad," said the other, smiling grimly. "perhaps i shall avail myself of it, and i might possibly have something of interest to communicate to you and your fellow scouts," and waving his hand to them he walked away. chapter iv a quick return for services rendered that night turned out clear and frosty. winter having set in so early seemed bent on keeping up its unusual record. the snow on the ground crackled underfoot in the fashion dear to the heart of every boy who loves outdoor sports. overhead, the bright moon, pretty well advanced, hung in space. it was clearly evident that no one need think of carrying a lantern with him to the meeting place on such a glorious night. the boy scouts of stanhope had been fortunate enough to be given the use of a large room under the church with the clock tower. on cold nights this was always heated for them, so that they found it a most comfortable place in which to hold their animated meetings. there was a large attendance on this occasion, for while possibly few among the members of the troop could take advantage of this midwinter trip into the wilds, every boy was curious to know all the details. in this same spacious room there was fitted up a gymnasium for the use of the boys one night a week, and many of them availed themselves of the privilege. as this was to be a regular business meeting, however, the apparatus had been drawn aside so as not to be in the way. as the roster was being called it might be just as well to give the full membership of the troop so that the reader may be made acquainted with the chosen comrades of jack and paul. the red fox patrol, which contained the "veterans" of the organization, was made up of the following members: paul morrison; jack stormways; bobolink, the official bugler; bluff shipley, the drummer of the troop; "nuthin" cypher; william carberry; wallace, his twin brother; and tom betts. paul, as has been said, was patrol leader, and served also as assistant scout-master when mr. gordon was absent from town. in the second division known as the gray fox patrol were the following: jud elderkin, patrol leader; joe clausin, andy flinn, phil towns, horace poole, bob tice, curly baxter, and cliff jones. the black fox patrol had several absentees, but when all were present they answered to their names as below: frank savage, leader; billie little, nat smith, sandy griggs, "old" dan tucker, "red" collins, "spider" sexton, and last but not least in volume of voice, "gusty" bellows. a fourth patrol that was to be called the silver fox was almost complete, lacking just three members; and those who made up this were: george hurst, leader; "lub" ketcham, barry nichols, malcolm steele and a new boy in town by the name of archie fletcher. apparently, the only business of importance before the meeting was in connection with the scheme to take a midwinter outing, something that was looked upon as unique in the annals of the association. the usual order of the meeting was hurried through, for every one felt anxious to hear what sort of proposition the assistant scout-master intended to spread before the meeting for approval. "i move we suspend the rules for to-night, and have an informal talk for a change!" said bobolink, when he had been recognized by the chair. a buzz of voices announced that the idea was favorably received by many of those present; and, accordingly, the chairman, no other than paul himself, felt constrained to put the motion after it had been duly seconded. he did so with a smile, well knowing what bobolink's object was. "you have all heard the motion that the rules be suspended for the remainder of the evening," he went on to say, "so that we can have a heart-to-heart talk on matters that concern us just now. all in favor say aye!" a rousing chorus of ayes followed. "contrary, no!" continued paul, and as complete silence followed he added hastily: "the motion is carried, and the regular business meeting will now stand adjourned until next month." "now let's hear what you've been hatching up for us, paul?" called out bobolink. "so say we all, paul!" cried half a dozen eager voices, and the boys left their seats to crowd around their leader. "i only hope it's rattlesnake mountain we're headed for!" exclaimed tom betts, who had a warm feeling in his boyish heart for that particular section of country, where once upon a time the troop had pitched camp, and had met with some amusing and thrilling adventures, as described in a previous volume, called "the banner boy scouts on a tour." "on my part i wish it would turn out to be good old lake tokala, where my heart has often been centered as i think of the happy days we spent there." it was, of course, bobolink who gave utterance to this sentiment. perhaps there were others who really echoed his desire, for they had certainly had a glorious time of it when cruising in the motor boats so kindly loaned to them. paul held up his hand for silence, and immediately every voice became still. discipline was enforced at these meetings, for the noisy boys and those inclined to play practical pranks had learned long ago they would have to smother their feelings at such times or be strongly repressed by the chair. "listen," said the leader, in his clear voice, "you kindly asked me to try to plan a trip for the holidays that would be of the greatest benefit to us as an organization of scouts. i seriously considered half a dozen plans, among them rattlesnake mountain, and cedar island in lake tokala. in fact, i was on the point of suggesting that we take the last mentioned trip when something came up that entirely changed my plan for the outing." he stopped to see what effect his words were having. evidently, he had aroused the curiosity of the assembled scouts to fever heat, for several voices immediately called out: "hear! hear! please go on, paul! we're dying to know what the game is!" paul smiled, as he went on to say: "i guess you have all been so deeply interested in what was going on to-night, that few of you noticed that we have a friend present who slipped into the room just as the roll call began. all of you must know the gentleman, so it's hardly necessary for me to introduce mr. thomas garrity to you." of course, every one turned quickly on hearing this. a figure that had been seated in a dim corner of the assembly room arose, and bobolink gasped with a delicious sense of pleasure when he recognized the man whom he and his fellow scouts had assisted that very afternoon. "please come forward, mr. garrity," said paul, "and tell the boys what you suggested to me late this afternoon. i'm sure they'd appreciate it more coming directly from you than getting it secondhand." while a hum of eager anticipation arose all around, mr. garrity made his way to the side of the patrol leader and president of the meeting. "i have no doubt," he said, "that those of you who were not present to-day when our old ice-house fell and caught me in the ruins, have heard all about the accident, so i need not refer to the incident except to say that i shall never cease to be grateful to the scouts for the clever way in which they dug me out of the wreck." "hear! hear!" several excited scouts shouted. "i happened to learn that you were contemplating a trip during the holidays, and when an idea slipped into my mind i lost no time in calling upon paul morrison, your efficient leader, in order to interest him in my plan." "hear! hear!" "it happens that i own a forest cabin up in the wilderness where i often go to rest myself and get away from all excitement. it is in charge of a faithful woodsman by the name of tolly tip. you can reach it by skating a number of miles up a stream that empties into lake tokala. the hunting is said to be very good around there, and you will find excellent pickerel fishing through the ice in lake tokala. if you care to do me the favor of accepting my offer, the services of my man and the use of the cabin are at your disposal. even then i shall feel that this is only a beginning of the deep interest i am taking in the scouts' organization; for i have had my eyes opened at last in a wonderful manner." as mr. garrity sat down, rosy-red from the exertion of speaking to a party of boys, paul immediately rapped for order, and put the question. "all who are in favor of accepting this generous offer say yes!" and every boy joined in the vociferous shout that arose. chapter v a startling interruption "mr. garrity, your kind offer is accepted with thanks," announced paul. "and as you suggested to me, several of us will take great pleasure in calling on you to-morrow to go into details and to get full directions from you." "then perhaps i may as well go home now, boys," said the old gentleman; "as my wrist is paining me considerably. i only want to add that this has been a red day in my calendar. the collapse of the old ice-house is going to prove one of those blessings that sometimes come to us in disguise. i only regret that two little girls were injured. as for myself, i am thoroughly pleased it happened." "before you leave us, sir," said bobolink, boldly, "please let us show in some slight way how much we appreciate your kind offer. boys, three cheers for mr. thomas garrity, our latest convert, and already one of our best friends!" possibly bobolink's method of expressing his feelings might not ordinarily appeal to a man of mr. garrity's character, but just now the delighted old gentleman was in no mood for fault finding. as the boyish cheers rang through the room there were actually tears in mr. garrity's eyes. truly that had been a great day for him, and perhaps it might prove a joyous occasion to many of his poor tenants, some of whom had occasion to look upon him as a just, though severe, landlord, exacting his rent to the last penny. after he had left the room the hum of voices became furious. one would have been inclined to suspect the presence of a great bee-hive in the near vicinity. "paul, you know all about this woods cabin he owns," said tom betts, "so suppose you enlighten the rest of us." "one thing tickles me about the venture!" exclaimed bobolink; "that is that we pass across lake tokala in getting there. i've been hankering to see that place in winter time for ever so long." "yes," added tom, eagerly, "that's true. and what's to hinder some of us from using our iceboats part of the way?" "nothing at all," paul assured him. "i went into that with mr. garrity, and came to the conclusion that it could be done. of course, a whole lot depends on how many of us can go on the trip." "how many could sleep in his cabin do you think, paul?" demanded jack. "yes. for one, i'd hate to have to bunk out in the snow these cold nights," said bluff, shaking his head seriously, for bluff dearly liked the comforts of a cheery fire inside stout walls of logs, while the bitter wintry wind howled without, and the snow drifted badly. "he told me it was unusually large," explained paul. "in fact, it has two big rooms and could in a pinch accommodate ten fellows. of course, every boy would be compelled to tote his blankets along with him, because mr. garrity never dreamed he would have an army occupy his log shanty." "the more i think of it the better it sounds!" declared jack. "then first of all we must try to find out just who can go," suggested bobolink. "what if there are too many to be accommodated either on the iceboats we own or in the cabin?" remarked tom betts, uneasily. "shucks! that ought to be easy," suggested another. "all we have to do is to pull straws, and see who the lucky ten are." "then let those who are _positive_ they can go step aside here," paul ordered; and at this there was a shuffling of feet and considerable moving about. "remember, you must be sure you can go," warned paul. "afterwards we'll single out those who believe they can get permission, but feel some doubts. if there is room they will come in for next choice." several who had started forward held back at this. those who took their stand as the leader requested consisted of jack, bobolink, bluff, tom betts, jud elderkin, sandy griggs, phil towns and "spider" sexton. "counting myself in the list that makes nine for certain," paul observed. it was noticed that tom betts as well as bobolink looked exceedingly relieved on discovering that, after all, there need be no drawing of lots. "now let those who have strong hopes of being able to go stand up to be counted," continued paul. "i'll keep a list of the names, and the first who comes to say he has received full permission will be the one to make up the full count of ten members, which is all the cabin can accommodate." the carberry twins, as well as several others, stood over in line to have their names taken down. "if one of us can go, paul," explained wallace carberry, "we'll fix it up between us which it shall be. but i'm sorry to say our folks don't take to this idea of a winter camp very strongly." "same over at my house," complained bob tice. "mother is afraid something terrible might happen to us in such a hard spell of winter. as if scouts couldn't take care of themselves anywhere, and under all conditions!" there were many gloomy faces seen in the gathering, showing that other boys knew their parents did not look on the delightful scheme with favor. some of them could not accompany the party on account of other plans which had been arranged by their parents. "if the ice stays as fine as it is now," remarked tom betts, "we can spin down the river on our iceboats, and maybe make our way through that old canal to lake tokala as well. but how about the creek leading up to the cabin, paul? did you ask mr. garrity about it?" "yes, i asked him everything i could think of," came the ready reply. "i'm sorry to say it will be necessary to leave our iceboats somewhere on the lake, for the creek winds around in such a way, and is so narrow in places, that none of us could work the boats up there." "but wouldn't it be dangerous to leave them on the lake so long?" asked tom, anxiously. "i've put in some pretty hard licks on my new craft, and i'd sure hate to have any one steal it from me." "yes," added bobolink, quickly, "and we all know that lawson crowd have been showing themselves as mean as dirt lately. we thought we had got rid of our enemies some time ago, and here this new lot of rivals seems bent on making life miserable for all scouts. they are a tough crowd, and pretend to look down on us as weaklings. hank lawson is now playing the part of the bully in stanhope, you know." "i even considered that," continued paul, who seldom omitted anything when laying plans. "mr. garrity told me there was a man living on the shore of lake tokala, who would look after our iceboats for a consideration." "bully for that!" exclaimed tom, apparently much relieved. "all the same i think it would be as well for us to try to keep our camping place a secret if it can be done. let folks understand that we're going somewhere around lake tokala; and perhaps the lawson crowd will miss us." "that isn't a bad idea," paul agreed, "and i'd like every one to remember it. of course, we feel well able to look after ourselves, but that's no reason why we should openly invite hank and his cronies to come and bother us. are you all agreed to that part of the scheme?" in turn every scout present answered in the affirmative. those who could not possibly accompany the party took almost as much interest in the affair as those intending to go; and there would be heart burnings among the members of stanhope troop from now on. "how about the grub question, paul?" demanded bobolink. "every fellow who is going will have to provide a certain amount of food to be carried along with his blanket, gun, clothes bag, and camera. all that can be arranged when we meet to-morrow afternoon. in the meantime, i'm going to appoint bobolink and jack as a committee of two to spend what money we can spare in purchasing certain groceries such as coffee, sugar, hams, potatoes, and other things to be listed later." bobolink grinned happily on hearing that. "see how pleased it makes him," jeered tom betts. "when you put bobolink on the committee that looks after the grub, paul, you hit him close to where he lives. one thing sure, we'll have plenty to eat along with us, for bobolink never underrates the eating capacity of himself or his chums." "you can trust me for that," remarked the one referred to, "because i was really hungry once in my life, and i've never gotten over the terrible feeling. yes, there is going to be a full dinner pail in camp garrity, let me tell you!" "camp garrity sounds good to me!" exclaimed sandy griggs. "let it go down in the annals of stanhope troop at that!" cried another scout. "we could hardly call it by any other name, after the owner has been so good as to place it at our disposal," said paul, himself well pleased at the idea. bobolink was about to say something more when, without warning, there came a sudden crash accompanied by the jingling of broken glass. one of the windows fell in as though some hard object had struck it. the startled scouts, looking up, saw the arm and face of a boy thrust part way through the aperture, showing that he must have slipped and broken the window while trying to spy upon the meeting. chapter vi a gloomy prospect for jud "it's jud mabley!" exclaimed one of the scouts, instantly recognizing the face of the unlucky youth who had fallen part way through the window. jud was a boy of bad habits. he had applied to the scouts for membership, but had not been admitted on account of his unsavory reputation. smarting under this sting jud had turned to hank lawson and his crowd for sympathy, and was known to be hand-in-glove with those young rowdies. "he's been spying on us, that's what!" cried bobolink, indignantly. "and learning our plans, like as not!" added tom betts. "he ought to be caught and ridden on a rail!" exclaimed a third member of the troop, filled with anger. "i'd say duck him in the river after cutting a hole in the ice!" called out another boy, furiously. "huh! first ketch your rabbit before you start cookin' him!" laughed jud in a jeering fashion, as he waved them a mocking adieu through the broken window, and then vanished from view. "after him, fellows!" shouted the impetuous bobolink, and there was a hasty rush for the door, the boys snatching up their hats as they ran. paul was with the rest, not that he cared particularly about catching the eavesdropper, but he wanted to be on hand in case the rest of the scouts overtook jud; for paul held the reputation of the troop dear, and would not have the scouts sully their honor by a mean act. the boys poured out of the meeting-place in a stream. the bright moon showed them a running figure which they judged must of course be jud; so away they sprang in hot pursuit. somehow, it struck them that jud was not running as swiftly as might be expected, for he had often proved himself a speedy contestant on the cinder path. he seemed to wabble more or less, and looked back over his shoulder many times. bobolink suspected there might be some sort of trick connected with this action on the part of the other, for jud was known to be a schemer. "jack, he may be drawing us into a trap of some sort, don't you think?" he managed to gasp as he ran at the side of the other. apparently jack, too, had noticed the queer actions of the fugitive. he had seen a mother rabbit pretend to be lame when seeking to draw enemies away from the place where her young ones lay hidden; yes, and a partridge often did the same thing, as he well knew. "i was noticing that, bobolink," he told the other, "but it strikes me jud must have been hurt somehow when he crashed through that window." "you mean he feels more or less weak, do you?" "something like that," came the reply. "well, we're coming up on him like fun, anyway, no matter what the cause may be!" bobolink declared, and then found it necessary to stop talking if he wanted to keep in the van with several of the swiftest runners among the scouts. it was true that they were rapidly overtaking jud, who ran in a strange zigzag fashion like one who was dizzy. he kept up until the leaders among his pursuers came alongside; then he stopped short, and, panting for breath, squared off, striking viciously at them. jack and two other scouts closed in on him, regardless of blows, and jud was made a prisoner. he ceased struggling when he found it could avail him nothing, but glared at his captors as an indian warrior might have done. "huh! think you're smart, don't you, overhaulin' me so easy," he told them disdainfully. "but if i hadn't been knocked dizzy when i fell you never would a got me. now what're you meanin' to do about it? ain't a feller got a right to walk the public streets of this here town without bein' grabbed by a pack of cowards in soldier suits, and treated rough-house way?" "that doesn't go with us, jud mabley," said bobolink, indignantly. "you were playing the spy on us, you know it, trying to listen to all we were saying." "so as to tell that lawson crowd, and get them to start some mean trick on us in the bargain," added tom betts. "o-ho! ain't a feller a right to stop alongside of a church to strike a match for his pipe?" jeered the prisoner, defiantly. "how was i to know your crowd was inside there? the streets are free to any one, man, woman or boy, i take it." "how about the broken window, jud?" demanded bobolink, triumphantly. "yes! did you smash that pane of glass when you threw your match away, jud," asked another boy, with a laugh. "he was caught in the act, fellows," asserted frank savage, "and the next question with us is what ought we to do to punish a sneak and a spy?" "i said it before--ride him on a rail around town so people can see how scouts stand up for their own rights!" came a voice from the group of excited boys. "oh! that would be letting him off too easy," tom betts affirmed. "'twould serve him just about right if we ducked him a few times in the river." "all we need is an axe to cut a hole through the ice," another lad went on to say, showing that the suggestion rather caught his fancy as the appropriate thing to do--making the punishment fit the crime, as it were. "keep it goin'," sneered the defiant jud, not showing any signs of quailing under this bombardment. "try and think up a few more pleasant things to do to me. if you reckon you c'n make me show the white feather you've got another guess comin', i want you to know. i'm true grit, i am!" "you may be singing out of the other side of your mouth, jud mabley, before we're through with you," threatened curly baxter. "mebbe now you might think to get a hemp rope and try hangin' me," laughed the prisoner in an offensive manner. "that's what they do to spies, you know, in the army. yes, and i know of a beauty of a limb that stands straight out from the body of the tree 'bout ten feet from the ground. shall i tell you where it lies?" this sort of defiant talk was causing more of the scouts to become angry. it seemed to them like adding insult to injury. here this fellow had spied upon their meeting, possibly learned all about the plans they were forming for the midwinter holidays, and then finally had the misfortune to fall and smash one of the window panes, which would, of course, have to be made good by the scouts, as they were under heavy obligations to the trustees of the church for favors received. "a mean fellow like you, jud mabley," asserted joe clausin, "deserves the worst sort of punishment that could be managed. why, it would about serve you right if you got a lovely coat of tar and feathers to-night." jud seemed to shrink a little at hearing that. "you wouldn't dare try such a game as that," he told them, with a faint note of fear in his voice. "every one of you'd have to pay for it before the law. some things might pass, but that's goin' it too strong. my dad'd have you locked up in the town cooler if i came home lookin' like a bird, sure he would." jud's father was something of a local power in politics, so that the boy's boast was not without more or less force. some of the scouts may have considered this; at any rate, one of them now broke out with: "a ducking ought to be a good enough punishment for this chap, i should say; so, fellows, let's start in to give it to him." "i know where i can lay hands on an axe all right, to chop a hole through the ice," asserted bobolink, eagerly. "then we appoint you a committee of one to supply the necessary tools for the joyous occasion," red collins cried out, gleefully falling in with the scheme. "hold on, boys, don't you think it would be enough if jud made an apology to us, and promised not to breathe a word of what he chanced to hear?" it was horace poole who said this, for he often proved to be the possessor of a tender heart and a forgiving spirit. his mild proposition was laughed down on the spot. "much he'd care what he promised us, if only we let him go scot free," jeered one scout. "i've known him to give his solemn word before now, and break it when he felt like it. i wouldn't trust him out of my sight. promises count for nothing with one of jud mabley's stamp." "how about that, jud?" demanded another boy. "would you agree to keep your lips buttoned up, and not tell a word of what you have heard?" "i ain't promisin' nothin', i want you to know," replied the prisoner, boldly; "so go on with your funny business. you won't ketch me squealing worth a cent. honest to goodness now i half b'lieve it's all a big bluff. let's see you do your worst." "drag him along to the river bank, fellows, and i'll join you there with the axe," roared bobolink, now fully aroused by the obstinate manner of the captive. "wait a bit, fellows." it was jack stormways who said this, and even the impetuous bobolink came to a halt. "go on jack. what's your plan?" demanded one of the group. "i was only going to remind you that in the absence of mr. gordon, paul is acting as scout-master, and before you do anything that may reflect upon the good name of stanhope troop you'd better listen to what he's got to say on the subject." chapter vii paul takes a chance these sensible words spoken by jack stormways had an immediate effect upon the angry scouts, some of whom realized that they had been taking matters too much in their own hands. paul had remained silent all this while, waiting to see just how far the hotheads would go. "first of all," he went on to say in that calm tone which always carried conviction with it, "let's go back to the meeting-room, and take jud along. i have a reason for wanting you to do that, which you shall hear right away." no one offered an objection, although doubtless it was understood that paul did not like such radical measures as ducking the spy who had fallen into their hands. they were by this time fully accustomed to obeying orders given by a superior officer, which is one of the best things learned by scouts. jud, for some reason, did not attempt to hold back when urged to accompany them, though for that matter it would have availed him nothing to have struggled and strained, for at least four sturdy scouts had their grip on his person. in this manner they retraced their steps. fortunately the last boy out had been careful enough to close the door after making his hurried exit, so that they found the room still warm and comfortable. they crowded inside, and a number of them frowned as they glanced toward the broken window, through which a draught was blowing. they hoped paul would not be too easy with the rascal who had been responsible for that smash. "first of all," the scout-master began as they crowded around the spot where he and jud stood, the latter staring defiantly at the frowning scouts, "i want to remark that it needn't bother us very much even if jud tells all he may have heard us saying. we shall always be at least two to one, and can take care of ourselves if attacked. those fellows understand that, i guess." "we've proved it to them in the past times without number, for a fact," observed jack, diplomatically. "if they care to spend a week in the snow woods, let them try it," continued the other. "good luck to them, say i; and here's hoping they may learn some lessons there that will make them turn over a new leaf. the forest is plenty big enough for all who want to breathe the fresh air and have a good time. but there's another thing i had in mind when i asked you to bring jud back here. some of you may have noticed that he lets his arm hang down in a queer way. look closer at his hand and you'll discover the reason." almost immediately several of the scouts cried out. "why, there's blood dripping from his fingers, as sure as anything!" "he must have cut his arm pretty bad when he fell through that window!" "whew! i'd hate to have that slash. see how the broken glass cut his coat sleeve--just as if you'd taken a sharp knife and gashed it!" "take off your coat, jud, please!" said paul. had paul used a less kindly voice or omitted that last word in his request, the obstinate and defiant jud might have flatly declined to oblige him. as it was he looked keenly at paul, then grinned, and with something of an effort started to doff his coat, jack assisting him in the effort. then the boys saw that his shirt sleeve was stained red. several of the weaker scouts uttered low exclamations of concern, not being accustomed to such sights; but the stouter hearted veterans had seen too many cuts to wince now. paul gently but firmly rolled the shirt sleeve up until the gash made by the broken glass was revealed. it was a bad cut, and still bled quite freely. no wonder jud had run in such an unwonted fashion. no person wounded as badly as that could be expected to run with his customary zeal, for the shock and the loss of blood was sure to make him feel weak. jud stared at his injury now with what was almost an expression of pride. when he saw some of the scouts shrink back his lip curled with disdain. "get a tin basin and fill it with warm water back in the other room, jack!" said paul, steadily. "what're you goin' to do to me, paul?" demanded jud, curiously, for he could not bring himself to believe that any one who was his enemy would stretch out a hand toward him save in anger and violence. "oh! i'm only going to wash that cut so as to take out any foreign matter that might poison you if left there, and then bind it up the best way possible," remarked the young scout-master. there was some low whispering among the boys. much as they marveled at such a way of returning evil with good they could not take exception to paul's action. every one of them knew deep down in his inmost heart that scout law always insisted on treating a fallen enemy with consideration, and even forgiving him many times if he professed sorrow for his evil ways. jack came back presently. he not only bore the basin of warm water but a towel as well. jud watched operations curiously. he was seeing what was a strange thing according to his ideas. he could not quite bring himself to believe that there was not some cruel hoax hidden in this act of apparent friendliness, and that accounted for the way he kept his teeth tightly closed. he did not wish to be taken unawares and forced to cry out. paul washed gently the ugly, jagged cut. then, taking out a little zinc box containing some soothing and healing salve, which he always carried with him, he used fully half of it upon the wound. afterwards he produced a small inch wide roll of surgical linen, and began winding the tape methodically around the injured arm of jud mabley. jack amused himself by watching the play of emotions upon the hard face of jud. evidently, he was beginning to comprehend the meaning of paul's actions, though he could not understand why any one should act so. when the last of the tape had been used and fastened with a small safety pin, paul drew down the shirt sleeve, buttoned it, and then helped jud on with his coat. "now you can go free when you take a notion, jud," he told the other. "huh! then you ain't meanin' to gimme that duckin' after all?" remarked the other, with a sneering look of triumph at bobolink. "you have to thank paul for getting you off," asserted one scout, warmly. "had it been left to the rest of us you'd have been in soak long before this." "for my part," said paul, "i feel that so far as punishment goes jud has got all that is coming to him, for that arm will give him a lot of trouble before it fully heals. i hope every time it pains him he'll remember that scouts as a rule are taught to heap coals of fire on the heads of their enemies when the chance comes, by showing them a favor." "but, paul, you're forgetting something," urged tom betts. "that's a fact, how about the broken window, paul?" cried joe clausin, with more or less indignation. for while it might be very well to forgive jud his spying tricks some one would have to pay for a new pane of glass in the basement window, and it was hard luck if the burden fell on the innocent parties, while the guilty one escaped scot free. it was noticed that jud shut his lips tight together as though making up his mind on the spot to decline absolutely to pay a cent for what had been a sheer accident, and which had already cost him a severe wound. "i haven't forgotten that, fellows," said paul, quietly. "of course it's only fair jud should pay the dollar it will cost to have a new pane put in there to-morrow. i shall order mr. nickerson to attend to it myself. and i shall also insist on paying the bill out of my own pocket, unless jud here thinks it right and square to send me the money some time to-morrow. that's all i've got to say, jud. there's the door, and no one will put out a hand to stop you. i hope you won't have serious trouble with that arm of yours." jud stared dumbly at the speaker as though almost stunned. perhaps he might have said something under the spur of such strange emotions as were chasing through his brain, but just then bobolink chanced to sneer. the sound acted on jud like magic, for he drew himself up, turned to look boldly into the face of each and every boy present, then thrust his right hand into his buttoned coat and with head thrown back walked out of the room, noisily closing the door after him. several of the scouts shook their heads. "pretty fine game you played with him, paul," remarked george hurst, "but it strikes me it was like throwing pearls before swine. jud has a hide as thick as a rhinoceros and nothing can pierce it. kind words are thrown away with fellows of his stripe, i'm afraid. a kick and a punch are all they can understand." "yes," added red collins, "when you try the soft pedal on them they think you're only afraid. i'm half sorry now you didn't let us carry out that ducking scheme. jud deserved it right well, for a fact." "it would have been cruel to drop him into ice water with such a wound freshly made," remarked jack. "wait and see whether paul's plan was worth the candle." "mark my words," commented tom betts, "we'll have lots of trouble with him yet." "shucks! who cares?" laughed bobolink, "it's all in the game, you know. there's paul getting ready to go home, so let's forget it till we meet to-morrow." chapter viii bobolink and the storekeeper according to their agreement, jack and bobolink met on a certain corner on the following morning. their purpose was to purchase the staple articles of food that half a score of hungry lads would require to see them through a couple of weeks' stay in the snow forest. "it's a lucky thing, too," bobolink remarked, after the other had displayed the necessary funds taken from his pocket, "that our treasury happens to be fairly able to stand the strain just now." "oh, well! except for that we'd have had to take up subscriptions," laughed jack. "i know several people who would willingly help us out. the scouts of stanhope have made good in the past, and a host of good friends are ready to back them." "yes, and for that matter i guess mr. thomas garrity would have been only too glad to put his hand deep down in his pocket," suggested bobolink. "he's an old widower, and with plenty of ready cash, too," commented the other boy. "but, after all, it's much better for us to stand our own expense as long as we can." "have you got the list that paul promised to make out with you, jack? i'd like to take a squint at it, if you don't mind. there may be a few things we could add to it." as bobolink was looked on as something of an authority in this line, jack hastened to produce the list, so they could run it over and exchange suggestions. "where shall we start in to buy the stuff?" asked bobolink, presently. "oh! i don't know that it matters very much," replied his companion. "mr. briggs has had some pretty fine hams in lately i heard at the house this morning, and if he treats us half-way decent we might do all our trading with him." "i never took much stock in old levi briggs," said bobolink. "he hates boys for all that's out. i guess some of them do nag him more or less. i saw that lawson crowd giving him a peck of trouble a week ago. he threatened to call the police if they didn't go away." "well, we happen to be close to the briggs' store," observed jack, "so we might as well drop in and see how he acts toward us." "huh! speaking of the lawson bunch, there they are right now!" exclaimed bobolink. loud jeering shouts close by told that hank and his cronies were engaged in their favorite practice of having "fun." this generally partook of the nature of the old fable concerning boys who were stoning frogs, which was "great fun for the boys, but death to the frogs." "it's a couple of ragged hoboes they're nagging now," burst out bobolink. "the pair just came out of briggs' store," added jack, "where i expect they met a cold reception if they hoped to coax a bite to eat from the old man." "still, they couldn't have done anything to hank and his crowd, so why should they be pushed off the walk in that way?" bobolink went on to say. as a rule the boy had no use for tramps. he looked on the vagrants as a nuisance and a menace to the community. at the same time, no self-respecting scout would think of casting the first stone at a wandering hobo, though, if attacked, he would always defend himself, and strike hard. "the tramps don't like the idea of engaging in a fight with a pack of tough boys right here in town," remarked jack, "because they know the police would grab them first, no matter if they were only defending themselves. that's why they don't hit back, but only dodge the stones the boys are flinging." "oh! that's a mean sort of game!" cried bobolink, as he saw the two tramps start to run wildly away. "there! that shorter chap was hit in the head with one of the rocks thrown after them. i bet you it raised a fine lump. what a lot of cowards those lawsons are, to be sure." "well, the row is all over now," observed jack. "and as the tramps have disappeared around the corner we don't want to break into the game, so come along to the store, and let's see what we can do there." bobolink continued to shake his head pugnaciously as he walked along the pavement. hank and his followers were laughing at a great rate as they exchanged humorous remarks concerning the recent "fight" which had been all one-sided. "believe me!" muttered bobolink, "if a couple more scouts had been along just now i'd have taken a savage delight in pitching in and giving that crowd the licking they deserved. course a tramp isn't worth much, but then he's _human_, and i hate to see anybody bullied." "it wasn't hank's business to chase the hoboes out of town," said jack. "we have the police force to manage such things. fact is, i reckon hank's bunch has done more to hurt the good name of stanhope than all the hoboes we ever had come around here." "if i had my way, jack, there'd be a public woodpile, and every tramp caught coming to town would have to work his passage. i bet there'd be a sign on every cross-roads warning the brotherhood to beware of stanhope as they might of the smallpox. but here's briggs' store." as they entered the place they could see that the proprietor was alone, his clerk being off on the delivery wagon. "whew! he certainly looks pretty huffy this morning," muttered the observing bobolink. "those tramps must have bothered him more or less before he could get them to move on." "it might be he had some trouble with hank before we came up," jack suggested; but further talk was prevented by the coming up of the storekeeper. mr. briggs was a small man with white hair, and keen, rat-like eyes. he possessed good business abilities, and had managed to accumulate a small fortune in the many years he purveyed to the people of stanhope. latterly, however, the little, old man had been growing very nervous and irritable, perhaps with the coming of age and its infirmities. he detested boys, and since that feeling soon becomes mutual there was open war between mr. briggs and many of the juveniles of stanhope. suspicious by nature, he always watched when boys came into his store as though he weighed them all in the same balance with hank lawson, and considered that none of stanhope's rising generation could be trusted out of sight. long ago he had taken to covering every apple and sugar barrel with wire screens to prevent pilfering. neither jack nor bobolink had ever had hot words with the storekeeper, but for all that they felt that his manner was openly aggressive at the time they entered the door. "if you want to buy anything, boys," said mr. briggs curtly, "i'll wait on you; but if you've only come in here to stand around my store and get warm i'll have to ask you to move on. my time is too valuable to waste just now." jack laughed on hearing that. "oh! we mean business this morning, mr. briggs," he remarked pleasantly, while bobolink scowled, and muttered something under his breath. "the fact is a party of us scouts are planning to spend a couple of weeks up in the snow woods," continued jack. "we have a list here of some things we want to take along, and will pay cash for them. we want them delivered to-day at our meeting room under the church." "let mr. briggs have the list, jack," suggested bobolink. "he can mark the prices he'll let us have the articles for. of course, sir, we mean to buy where we can get the best terms for cash." bobolink knew the grasping nature of the old storekeeper, and perhaps this was intended for a little trap to trip him up. mr. briggs glanced over the list and promptly did some figuring, after which he handed the paper back. "seems to me your prices are pretty steep, sir!" remarked jack. "i should say they were," added bobolink, with a gleam in his eyes. "why, you are two cents a pound on hams above the other stores. yes, and even on coffee and rice you are asking more than we can get the same article for somewhere else." "those are my regular prices," said the old man, shortly. "if they are not satisfactory to you, of course, you are at liberty to trade elsewhere. in fact, i do not believe you meant to buy these goods of me, but have only come in to annoy me as those other good-for-nothing boys always do." "indeed, you are mistaken, mr. briggs," expostulated jack, who did not like to be falsely accused when innocent. "we are starting out to see where we can get our provisions at the most reasonable rates. some of the storekeepers are only too glad to give the scouts a reduction." "well, you'll get nothing of the sort here, let me tell you," snapped the unreasonable old man. "i can't afford to do business at cost just to please a lot of harum-scarum boys, who want to spend days loafing in the woods when they ought to be earning an honest penny at work." "come on, jack, let's get out of here before i say something i'll be sorry for," remarked bobolink, who was fiery red with suppressed anger. "there's the door, and your room will be better appreciated than your company," mr. briggs told them. "and as for your trade, take it where you please. your people have left me for other stores long ago, so why should i care?" "oh! that's where the shoe pinches, is it?" chuckled bobolink; and after that he and jack left the place, to do their shopping in more congenial quarters, while mr. briggs stood on his doorsteps and glared angrily after them. chapter ix "fire!" "saturday, eleven-thirty p.m., the night before christmas, and all's well!" it was frank savage who made this remark, as with eight other scouts he trudged along, after having left the house of the scout-master, paul morrison. frank had been the lucky one to be counted among those who were going on the midwinter tour, his parents having been coaxed into giving their consent. "and on monday morning we make the start, wind and weather permitting," observed bobolink, with an eagerness he did not attempt to conceal. "so far as we know everything is in complete readiness," said bluff shipley. "five iceboats are tugging at their halters, anxious to be off," laughed jack. "and there'll be a lot of restless sleepers in certain stanhope homes i happen to know." "huh! there always are just before christmas," chuckled tom betts. "but this year we have a double reason for lying awake and counting the dragging minutes. course you committee of two looked after the grub supplies as you were directed?" "we certainly did!" affirmed bobolink, "and came near getting into a row with old briggs at his store. he wanted to ask us top-notch prices for everything, and when we kicked he acted so ugly we packed out." "just like the old curmudgeon," declared phil towns. "the last time i was in his place he kept following me around as if he thought i meant to steal him out of house and home. i just up and told my folks i never wanted to trade with mr. briggs again, and so they changed to the other store." "oh, well, he's getting old and peevish," said jack. "you see he lives a lonely life, and has a narrow vision. besides, some boys have given him a lot of trouble, and he doesn't know the difference between decent fellows and scamps. we'd better let him alone, and talk of something else." "i suppose all of you notice that it's grown cloudy late to-day," suggested spider sexton. "oh! i hope that doesn't mean a heavy snowfall before we get started," exclaimed bluff. "if a foot of snow comes down on us, good-bye to our using the iceboats as we've been planning." "the weather reports at the post office say fair and cold ahead for this section," announced jack stormways, at which there arose many faint cheers. "good boy, jack!" cried bobolink, patting the other's back. "it was just like the thoughtful fellow you are to go down and read the prospect the weather sharps in washington hold out for us." "you must thank paul for that, then," admitted the other, "for he told me about it. i rather expect paul had the laugh on the rest of us to-night, boys." "now you're referring to that jud mabley business, jack," said phil towne. "well, when paul let him off so easy every one of us believed he was wrong, and that the chances were ten to one paul would have to fork over the dollar to pay for having that window pane put in," continued jack. "but you heard what happened?" "yes, seems that the age of miracles hasn't passed yet," admitted bobolink. "i thought i was dreaming when paul told me that jud's little brother came this morning with an envelope addressed to him, and handed it in without a word." "and when paul opened it," continued jack, taking up the story in his turn, "he found a nice, new dollar bill enclosed, with a scrap of paper on which jud had scrawled these words: 'never would have paid only i couldn't let _you_ stand for my accident, and after you treated me so white, too. but this wipes it all out, remember. i'm no crawler!'" "it tickled paul a whole lot, let me remark," jud elderkin explained. "i do half believe he thinks he can see a rift in the cloud, and that some of these days hopes to get a chance to drag jud mabley out of that ugly crowd." "it would be just like paul to lay plans that way," acknowledged jack. "i know him like a book, and believe me, he gets more pleasure out of making his enemies feel cheap than the rest of us would if we gave them a good licking." "paul's a sure-enough trump!" admitted bluff. "do you know what he said when he was showing that scrawl to us fellows? i was close enough to get part of it, and i'm dead sure the words 'entering wedge' formed the backbone of his remark." "do we go, snow or sunshine, then?" asked bluff, as they came to a halt on a corner where several of the boys had to leave the rest, as their homes lay in different directions. "that's for paul to decide," jack told him. "but we know our leader well enough to feel sure it's got to be a fierce storm to make him call a trip off, once all preparations have been made." "oh! don't borrow trouble," sang out bobolink. "everything is lovely, and the goose hangs high. just keep on remembering that to-morrow will be christmas, and all of us expect to find something in our stockings, so to speak." "there's one word of warning i ought to speak before we separate," said jack, pretending to look solemn as they stood under a corner street lamp. "now the chances are you're referring to that lawson crowd again, jack," suggested bobolink. "this time it comes nearer home than the lawsons," said jack, seriously. "then for goodness sake tell us what you have on your mind," urged tom betts, impulsively. "as the second in command in our patrol," jack went on gravely, "since paul failed to say anything about it, i feel it my solemn duty to warn several of our number to be extra careful how they gorge at christmas dinner to-morrow. too much turkey and plum pudding have stretched out many a brave scout before now. if there are several vacancies in our ranks monday morning we'll know what to lay it all to. i beg of you to abstain, if you want to feel fresh and hearty at the start." a general laugh greeted the warning, and every one looked particularly at bobolink, much to his confusion. "if the shoe fits, put it on, everybody," bobolink remarked stoutly. "as for me, i'd already made up my mind to be satisfied with one helping all around. and when a link says a thing he always keeps his word." "well," remarked phil towns, wickedly, "we hope that this time we won't have to refer to our chum as the 'missing link,' that's all." that caused another mild eruption of boyish laughter, and before bobolink could make a caustic reply a sudden loud metallic clang startled them. "listen, it's the fire alarm!" exclaimed tom betts. again the sound came with startling distinctness. boylike, jack and his friends forgot everything else just then in this new excitement. stanhope had a volunteer fire department, like most small towns in that section of the country. stanhope was proud of its fire laddies, who had, on numerous previous occasions, proved their skill at fighting the flames. already loud shouts could be heard in various quarters, as men threw up windows and called to neighbors. "where can it be, do you think?" demanded jud elderkin, as the group of lads stood ready for flight, only waiting to catch some definite clue, so that they might not start on a wild-goose chase. "seems to me i c'n see a flickering light over yonder!" cried spider sexton, as he pointed toward the heart of the town. "you're right, spider!" echoed tom betts. "that's where the fire lies. see how it keeps on getting brighter right along, showing that the blaze has got a firm grip. hey! wait for me, can't you, fellows?" "wait your granny!" shouted bobolink over his shoulder as he fled wildly down the street. "run for all your worth, old ice-wagon. whoop! here we come, stanhope's fire-fighters!" there was excitement on every side of them now. doors opened to emit men hastily donning rubber coats and firemen's hats. women and children had commenced to scream at each other across dividing fences. dogs began to join in the general confusion by barking madly. and above all the increasing clamor, the brazen notes of the fire bell continued to clang furiously. the nine scouts, being already on the street at the time the alarm was turned in, had a big advantage over others, since they were dressed in the beginning. as they ran on they were joined by a number of men and women who had chanced to be up at this late hour, possibly decorating christmas trees for the benefit of the children on the coming morning. chapter x the accusation "can you guess where it is, jack?" gasped frank savage as he strove to keep alongside the other while running to the fire. just then they reached a corner, and as they dashed around it they came in plain sight of the conflagration. "it's briggs' store, fellows!" shouted frank over his shoulder. ten seconds later all of them were on the spot where already a little cluster of men and boys were gathered, some of them near neighbors, others having come up ahead of the scouts. "hey! what's this i see?" bobolink said to his chum nearest him; "two of the lawson crowd here, dodging about and grinning as if they thought it a picnic?" "look at old briggs, will you?" cried sandy griggs. "he's dancing around like a chicken after you've chopped its head off." "did you ever see anybody so excited?" demanded bobolink. "hold on! what's that he's saying now about somebody setting his store afire on purpose?" "it's a black scheme to get me out of competition!" the little, old storekeeper was crying as he wrung his hands wildly. "somebody must have known that my insurance ran out three weeks ago, and for once i neglected to renew it! i shall be ruined if it all goes! why don't some of you try to save my property?" "boys, it seems that it's up to us to get busy and do something!" exclaimed frank savage, immediately. "it comes hard to work for the old skinflint," declared bobolink, "but i s'pose we're bound to forget everything but that some one's stuff is in danger, and that we belong to the scouts!" "come on then, everybody, and let's sling things around!" cried jud elderkin. no matter how the fire started it was burning fiercely, and promised to give the volunteer firemen a good fight when they arrived, as they were likely to do at any moment now. indeed, loud cries not far away, accompanied by the rush of many heavily booted feet and the trampling of horses' hoofs announced that the engine, hook and ladder, and chemical companies were close at hand. the nine scouts dashed straight at the store front. the door stood conveniently open, though they could only hazard a guess as to how it came so--possibly when brought to the spot with the first alarm of fire the owner had used his key to gain an entrance. into the store tumbled the boys. the interior was already pretty well filled with an acrid smoke that made their eyes run; but through it they could manage to see the barrels and boxes so well remembered. these some of the scouts started to get out as best they could. jack, realizing that in all probability the rolls of cloth and silks on the shelves would suffer worst from the water soon to be applied, led several of his companions to that quarter. they were as busy as the proverbial beaver, rushing goods outdoors where they could be taken in hand by others, and placed in temporary security. a couple of the local police force had by this time reached the scene, and they could be depended on to guard mr. briggs' property as it was gathered in the street. the owner of the store seemed half beside himself, rushing this way and that, and saying all manner of bitter things. even at that moment, when the boys of stanhope were making such heroic efforts to save his property, he seemed to entertain suspicions regarding them, for he often called out vague threats as to what would happen if they dared take anything belonging to him. now came the volunteer fire-fighters, with loud hurrahs. there seemed no need of the ladders, but the fire engine was quickly taken to the nearest cistern and the suction pipe lowered. when that reservoir was emptied others in the near vicinity would be tapped, and if the water supply held out the fire could possibly be gotten under control. that was likely to be the last time the citizens of stanhope would have to cope with a fire in their midst, armed with such old-fashioned weapons. a new waterworks system was being installed, and in the course of a couple of weeks stanhope hoped to be supplied with an abundance of clear spring water through the network of pipes laid under the town streets during the preceding summer and fall. mr. forbes, the efficient foreman of the fire company, was the right sort of man for the work. he was one of the town blacksmiths, a fine citizen, and highly respected by every one. as his heavy voice roared out orders the men under him trailed the hose out, the engine began to work furiously, sending out black smoke from its funnel, and the men who handled the chemical engine brought it into play. even in that time, when dozens of things pressed hard upon the foreman demanding his attention, he found occasion to speak words of encouragement to the busy scouts as they trooped back and forth, carrying all sorts of bulky articles out of the reach of the flames. "good boys, every one of you!" he called out to them as jack and bobolink came staggering along with their arms filled with bolts of mr. briggs' most cherished silks, "you've got the making of prize firemen in you i can see. don't overdo it, though, lads; and make way for the men with the hose!" by the time the first stream of water was turned on the fire the flames were leaping upward, and the entire back part of the store seemed to be doomed. being a frame building and very old it had been like matchwood in the path of the flames. "now watch how they slam things down on the old fire!" exclaimed bobolink as he stood aside unable to enter the store again since the firemen had taken possession of the premises. "the water will do more damage than the fire ever had a chance to accomplish." "wow! see them smash those windows in, will you!" shouted jud elderkin, as a man with a fire axe made a fresh opening in one side of the store in order to put a second line of hose to work. everybody was calling out, and what with the crackling of the hungry flames, the neighing of the horses that had drawn the fire-engine to the spot, the whooping of gangs of delighted boys, and a lot of other miscellaneous sounds, bedlam seemed to have broken loose in stanhope on this night before christmas. "they've got the bulge on it already, seems like," announced tom betts. "but even that doesn't seem to give mr. briggs much satisfaction," remarked frank. "there he is running back and forth between the store and the stack of goods we piled up in the street." "i reckon he is afraid the police will steal some of the silks," chuckled bobolink. "the fire is going down right fast now," tom betts affirmed. "what's left of the briggs' store may be saved. but mr. briggs is bound to lose a heap, and it cuts the old man to the bone to let a dollar slip away from him." "to think of such a smart business man allowing his insurance policy to lapse, and to lie unrenewed for a whole month!" exclaimed bluff. "got tired paying premiums for so many years and never having a fire," explained jack. as the crowd stood there the last of the blaze yielded to the efforts of the firemen. most of the building was saved, though the business was bound to be crippled for some time, and mr. briggs' loss would run into the hundreds, perhaps thousands, for all any one knew. "listen to him scolding the foreman of the fire company, will you?" demanded bobolink. "he seems to think a whole hour elapsed after the alarm before the boys got here. why, it was the quickest run on record, i should say." "here they come this way," observed tom betts, "and the foreman is trying to convince mr. briggs he is mistaken. he knows how excited mr. briggs is, and excuses anything he may say. mr. forbes is a big man in more ways than bulk." "perhaps mr. briggs may want to scold us for not getting more stuff out before the water was turned on," chuckled bobolink. "don't answer him back if he does," jack warned them, "because we know he's nearly out of his mind just now." still, even practical jack was shocked when the old storekeeper, coming face to face with the group of scouts, suddenly pointed a trembling finger at bobolink and exclaimed in a vindictive voice: "i knew this fire was started in revenge, and there's the boy who did it!" chapter xi friends of the scouts everybody came crowding around at hearing mr. briggs make such a startling accusation. bobolink seemed to have had his very breath taken away, for all he could do was to stare helplessly at the angry, little, old storekeeper. the magnitude of the crime with which he was accused stunned him. some of the other scouts managed to find their tongues readily enough. flushed with indignation they proceeded to express their feelings as boys might be expected to do under strong resentment. "well, i like that, now!" exclaimed tom betts. "when bobolink here has been working like a beaver to save mr. briggs' stuff from the maw of the flames." "that was only meant to be a blind to hide the truth!" cried mr. briggs. "after he set the fire he must have become frightened at what he had done, and tried to cover up his tracks. oh! i know what boys are capable of; but i'll have the law on this miscreant who tried to get revenge on me this way, see if i don't." "shame on you, mr. briggs," said a stout woman close by. "and the boy nearly killing himself to carry out big loads of your silks! it's many dollars he saved you, and little credit he'll ever get." "don't you know bobolink has the best kind of alibi, mr. briggs?" said frank. "he was over at doctor morrison's house along with the rest of us until just before the alarm sounded. we were on our way home when the bell struck first." "the doctor himself will tell you that, if you ask him," added jack, indignant now because of what had passed after all they had done for the old man. "mr. forbes, i wish you would warn him not to make such a reckless accusation again, because he might have to prove it in court. boys have rights as well as storekeepers, he must know." "it's just as you say, jack, my lad," asserted the big foreman of the truck company, warmly. "i stood all your abuse, mr. briggs, when it was directed against myself, but i advise you to go slow about charging any of these young chaps with setting fire to your store. all of us have seen how they worked trying to save your property, sir. it is a poor return you are making for their efforts." others shared this opinion, and realizing that he did not have a single friend in the crowd, mr. briggs had the good sense to keep his further suspicions to himself. but that he was still far from convinced of bobolink's innocence could be seen by the malevolent glances he shot toward the boy from time to time, while the scouts stood and watched the final work of the fire-fighters. the last spark had been extinguished, and all danger was past. many of the townspeople began to leave for their comfortable homes, because it was bitterly cold at that hour of the night, with a coating of snow on the ground. paul had come up during the excitement, but somehow had failed to join the rest of the scouts until later on. the other scouts thought that doubtless he had found something to claim his attention elsewhere; but he came up to them about the time they were thinking of taking their departure. his indignation was strong when he heard what a foolish accusation the almost distracted storekeeper had made against bobolink. still paul was a sensible lad, and he realized that mr. briggs could hardly be held responsible for what he said at such a time. "better forget all about it, bobolink," he told the other, who was still fretting under the unmerited charge. "perhaps when he cools off and realizes what a serious thing he has said, mr. briggs will publicly take his words back, and will thank you fellows in the bargain." "but how came it you were so slow in getting to the fire, paul?" asked tom betts; for, as a rule, the patrol leader could be counted on to arrive with the first. paul laughed at that. "i knew you'd be wondering," he said, and then went on to explain. "for once i was caught in a trap, and, much as i wanted to get out and run, i just had to hold my horses for a spell. you see, after you had gone father asked me to hold something for him while he was attending to it, and i couldn't very well drop it until he was through." "whew! it sure must have been something pretty important to keep paul morrison from running to a fire," chuckled frank. "it was important," came the ready reply. "in fact, it was a man's broken arm i was holding. ben holliday was brought in just after you boys left. he had fallen in some way and sustained a compound fracture of his left arm. neither of the men who were along with him could be counted on to assist, so father called on me to lend a hand. and that's why i was late at the briggs' store fire." "you missed a great sight, paul, let me tell you," affirmed bluff. "yes, and you missed hearing a friend of yours called a fire-bug, too, in the bargain," grunted bobolink. "and after i'd sweated and toiled like fun to drag a lot of his old junk out of reach of fire and flood! that's what makes me sore. now, if i'd just stood around and laughed, like a lot of the fellows did, it wouldn't have been so bad." "listen!" said jud elderkin, lowering his voice, "when old briggs got the notion that some bad boy set his store on fire in a spirit of revenge, maybe he wasn't so far wrong after all." "say, what are you hinting at now, jud?" gasped bobolink, suspiciously. "you know as well as anything i was along with the crowd every minute of the time." "sure i do, bobolink," asserted the other, blandly. "i wasn't referring to you at all when i said that. there are others in the swim. you're not the only pebble on the beach, you understand." "now i get you, jud!" tom betts exclaimed. "and let me say, i've been having little suspicions of my own leading in that same direction." "we found hank, jud mabley and sim jeffreys on the spot when we got here, you all remember, and they seemed tickled to death because it was the briggs' place that was on fire," continued jud. even paul and jack seemed impressed, though too cautious to accept the fact until there was more proof. already the foolishness of making an unsupported accusation had been brought home to them, and the scout-master felt that it was his duty to warn jud and tom against talking too recklessly of their suspicion. "better go slow about it, fellows, no matter what you think," he told them. "the law does not recognize suspicion as counting for anything, unless you have some sort of proof to back it up. it may be those fellows are guilty, for they have been going from bad to worse of late; but until you can show evidence leading that way, button up your lips." "guess you're right there, paul," admitted jud. "some of us are apt to be too previous when we get a notion in our heads. but mr. briggs is dead sure it was no accident, whether the fire was started by the lawson crowd or some one else." "i heard him say he suspected that his safe had been broken open," declared tom betts just then, "and that the fire might have been an after thought meant to hide a robbery." "whew! that's going some, i must say, if that lawson gang has come down to burglary, as well as arson," observed spider sexton, seriously. "you'll have to get jud mabley away from his cronies mighty quick then, paul, if you hope to pull him out of the fire," commented frank. "well, for one i've yet to be convinced that they had anything to do with the fire," paul told them. "but we know they've had trouble with mr. briggs plenty of times," urged another of the scouts. "and you must remember they were here when we arrived, which looks suspicious," added bobolink. "appearances are often deceitful, bobolink, as you yourself know to your cost," the scout-master remarked. "if forced to explain their being on the spot so early perhaps they could prove an alibi as well as you. but come, since the fire is all over, and it's pretty shivery out here now, suppose we get back home." no one offered any objection to this proposal. indeed, several of the scouts who had worked hard enough to get into a perspiration, were moving about uneasily as though afraid of taking cold. when the boys left the scene the crowd had thinned out very much, for the wintry night made standing around unpleasant. besides, most of the people were disgusted with the actions of old mr. briggs, and cared very little what his loss might prove to be. at the time the scouts turned away and headed for another section of the town, the old storekeeper was entering the still smoking building, desirous of examining his safe to ascertain whether it showed signs of having been tampered with. once again the boys stood on the corner ready to separate into several factions as their homes chanced to lie. "there, the fire is out; that's back-taps!" said tom betts. "you're off your base, tom," bluff disagreed, "for that's the town clock striking the hour of midnight." "sure enough," agreed tom, when four and five had sounded. they counted aloud until the whole twelve had struck. "that means it's sunday morning. merry christmas, paul, and the rest!" cried frank. "the same to you, and good-night, fellows!" called out paul, as with jack he strode away. chapter xii the iceboat squadron at exactly ten o'clock, on monday morning, december th, bobolink sounded the "assembly" on his bugle. a great crowd had gathered on the bank of the frozen bushkill. for the most part this was made up of boys and girls, but there were in addition a few parents who wanted to see the start of the scouts for their midwinter camp. up to this time their outings had taken place in a more genial period of the year, and not a few witnessed their departure with feelings of uneasiness. this winter had already proved its title to the stormiest known in a quarter of a century, and at the last hour more than one parent questioned the wisdom of allowing the boys to take the bold tour. however, there were no "recalls," and as for the ten lads themselves, to look at their eager faces it could be seen that they entertained no doubts regarding their ability to cope with whatever situations arose. the five iceboats were in line, and could be compared with so many fleet race horses fretting to make a speedy start. each had various mysterious packages fastened securely, leaving scanty room for the pair of "trippers." "after all we're going to have a fine day of it," remarked tom betts, as he gave a last look to the running gear of his new ice craft, and impatiently waited for paul to give the word to be off. "luck seems to be with us in the start," admitted bobolink, who was next in line. "i only hope it won't change and slap us too hard after we get up there in the woods." "i heard this morning that the lawson crowd had started overland, with packs on their backs," phil towns stated. "oh! we're bound to rub up against that lot before we're done with it," prophesied bobolink. "but if they give us any trouble i miss my guess if they won't be sorry for it." "scouts can take a heap," said tom, "but there is a limit to their forbearance; and once they set out to inflict proper punishment they know how to rub it in good and hard." "do you really believe there's any truth in that report we heard about mr. briggs' safe being found broken open and cleaned out?" asked phil. "there's no question about it," replied bobolink. "though between you and me i don't think the robbers got much of a haul, for the old man is too wise to keep much money around." "i heard that hank lawson and his crowd were spending money pretty freely when they got ready early this morning to start," suggested tom. jack, who had listened to all this talk, took occasion to warn his fellow-scouts, just as paul had done on the other occasion. "better not say that again, tom, because we have no means of knowing how they got the money. some of them are often supplied with larger amounts than seem to be good for them. unless you know positively, don't start the snowball rolling downhill, because it keeps on growing larger every time some one tells the story." "all right, jack," remarked tom, cheerfully; "what you say goes. besides, as we expect to be away a couple of weeks there isn't going to be much chance to tell tales in stanhope." they waited impatiently for the word to go. paul was making a last round in order to be sure that nothing had been overlooked, for caution was strongly developed in his character, as well as boldness. there were many long faces among the other boys belonging to stanhope troop, for they would have liked above all things to be able to accompany their lucky comrades. the lure of the open woods had a great attraction for them, and on previous outings every one had enjoyed such glorious times that now all felt as though they were missing a grand treat. at last paul felt that nothing else remained to be done, and that he could get his expedition under way without any scruple. there were many skaters on the river, but a clear passage down-stream had been made for the start of the iceboat squadron. a few of the strongest skaters had gone on ahead half an hour back, intending to accompany the adventurous ten a portion of the way. they hoped to reach the point where the old canal connected the bushkill river with the radway, and a long time back known as jackson's creek. here they would await the coming of the fleet iceboats, and lend what assistance was required in making the passage of this crooked waterway. when once again the bugle sounded the cheering became more violent than ever, for it was known that the moment of departure had arrived. tom betts had been given the honor of being the first in the procession. his fellow passenger was jack stormways. as the new _speedaway_ shot from its mooring place and started down the river it seemed as though the old football days had come again, such a roar arose from human lungs, fish-horns, and every conceivable means for making a racket. a second craft quickly followed in the wake of the leader, then a third, the two others trailing after, until all of them were heading down-stream, rapidly leaving stanhope behind. the cheering of the throng grew fainter as the speedy craft glided over the ice, urged on by a fair wind. there could be little doubt that the ten scouts who were undertaking the expedition were fully alive to the good fortune that had come their way. tom betts was acknowledged to be the most skilful skipper, possibly barring paul, along the bushkill. he seemed to know how to get the best speed out of an iceboat, and at the same time avoid serious accidents, such as are likely to follow the reckless use of such frail craft. it was thoughtful of paul to let tom lead the procession, when by all rights, as the scout-master, paul might properly have assumed that position. tom must have been considering this fact, for as he and jack flew along, crouching under the big new sail that was drawing splendidly, he called out to his comrade: "let me tell you it was mighty white in paul to assign me to this berth, jack, when by rights everybody expected him to lead off. i appreciate it, too, i want you to understand." "oh! that's just like paul," he was told. "he always likes to make other fellows feel good. and for a chap who unites so many rare qualities in his make-up paul is the most unassuming fellow i ever knew. why, you can see that he intentionally put himself in last place, and picked out spider sexton's boat to go on, because he knew it was the poorest of the lot." "but all the same the old _glider_ is doing her prettiest to-day and keeping up with the procession all right," asserted tom, glancing back. "that's because paul's serving as skipper," asserted jack, proudly. "he could get speed out of any old tub you ever saw. but then we're not trying to do any racing on this trip, you remember, tom." "not much," assented the other, quickly. "paul impressed it on us that to-day we must keep it in mind that 'safety first' is to be our motto. besides, with all these bundles of grub and blankets and clothes-bags strapped and roped to our boats a fellow couldn't do himself justice, i reckon." "no more he could, tom. but we're making good time for all that, and it isn't going to be long before we pass manchester, and reach the place where that old abandoned canal creeps across two miles of country, more or less, to the radway." "i can see the fellows who skated down ahead of us!" announced tom, presently. "yes, they're waiting to go through the canal with us," assented jack. "wallace carberry said they feared we might have a bad time of it getting the iceboats over to the radway, and he corralled a few fellows with the idea of lending a hand." "they hate the worst kind to be left out of this camping game," remarked tom, "and want to see the last they can of us." a few minutes later and the skipper of the leading iceboat brought his speedy craft to a halt close to the shore, where several scouts awaited them. the other four craft soon drew up near by, thus finishing what they were pleased to call the "first leg" of the novel cruise. it was decided to work their way through the winding creek the best way possible. in places it would be found advisable to push the boats, while now and then as an open stretch came along they might take advantage of a favorable wind to do a little sailing. two miles of this sort of thing would not be so bad. as bobolink sang out, the worst was yet to come when they made the radway, and had to ascend against a head wind that would necessitate skilful tacking to avoid an overturn. chapter xiii on the way "it all comes back to me again, when i see that frozen mud bank over there, fellows," called out frank savage, after they had been pushing their way along the rough canal for some time. "how many times we did get stuck on just such a mud bank," laughed paul. "i can shut my eyes even now, and imagine i see some of us wading alongside, and helping to get our motor boats out of the pickle. i think bobolink must dream of it every once in a while, for he had more than his share of the fun." "it was bully fun all right, say what you will!" declared the boy mentioned, "though like a good many other things that are past and gone, distance lends enchantment to the view." "that's right," echoed tom betts, "you always seem to forget the discomforts when you look back to that kind of thing, and remember only the jolly good times. i've come home from hunting as tired as a dog, and vowed it would be a long while before i ever allowed myself to be tempted to go again. but, fellows, if a chum came along the next day and asked me i'd fall to the bait." a chance to do a little sailing interrupted this pleasant exchange of reminders. but it was for a very short distance only that they were able to take advantage of a favoring breeze; then the boys found it necessary to push the boats again. some of them strapped on their skates and set out to draw the laden iceboats as the most logical way of making steady progress. "what are two measly miles, when such a glorious prospect looms up ahead of us?" cried sandy. "we ought to be at the old radway by noon." "yes," added bobolink, quickly. "and i heard paul saying just now that as we were in no great hurry he meant to call a halt there for an hour or more. we can start a fire and have a bully little warm lunch, just to keep us from starving between now and nightfall, when a regular dinner will be in order." of course, this set some of the boys to making fun of bobolink's well known weakness. the accused scout took it all as good natured joking. besides, who could get angry when engaged in such a glorious outing as that upon which they were now fully embarked? certainly not the even-tempered bobolink. from time to time the boys recognized various spots where certain incidents had happened to them when on their never-to-be-forgotten motor boat cruise of the preceding summer. it was well on towards noon when they finally reached the place where the old connecting canal joined the radway river. it happened, fortunately for the plans of the scouts, that both streams were rather high at the setting in of winter, which accounted for an abundance of ice along the connecting link. "looky there, paul. could you find a better place for a fire than in that cove back of the point?" demanded bobolink, evidently bent on reminding the commander-in-chief of his promise. "you're right about that," admitted paul, "for the trees and bushes on the point act as a wind break. head over that way, boys, and let's make a stop for refreshments." "good for you, paul!" cried spider sexton, jubilantly. "i skipped the best part of my usual feed this morning, i was so excited and afraid i might get left; and i want to warn you all i'm as empty right now as a drum. so cook enough for an extra man or two when you're about it." "huh! you'll take a hand in that job yourself, spider," asserted bobolink, pretending to look very stern, though he knew there would be no lack of volunteers for preparing that first camp meal. enthusiasm always runs high when boys first go into the woods, but later on it gets to be an old story, and some of the campers have to be drummed into harness. a fire was soon started, for every one of the scouts knew all about the coaxing of a blaze, no matter how damp the wood might seem. the scouts had learned their lesson in woodcraft, and took pride in excelling one another on occasion. then a bustling ensued as several cooks busied themselves in frying ham, as well as some potatoes that had already been boiled at home. when several onions had been mixed with these, after being first fried in a separate pan, the odors that arose were exceedingly palatable to the hungry groups that stood around awaiting the call to lunch. coffee had been made in the two capacious tin pots, for on such a bracing day as this they felt they needed something to warm their systems. plenty of condensed milk had been brought along, and a can of this was opened by puncturing the top in two places. thus, if not emptied at a sitting, a can can be sealed up again, and kept over for another occasion. "as good a feed as i ever want to enjoy!" was the way bobolink bubbled over as he reached for his second helping, meanwhile keeping a wary eye on the boy who had warned them as to his enormous capacity for food. "it is mighty fine," agreed wallace carberry, "but somehow, fellows, it seems like a funeral feast to me, because it's the last time i'll be able to join you. never felt so bad in my life before. shed a few tears for me once in a while, won't you?" the others laughingly promised to accommodate him. truth to tell, most of them did feel very sorry for wallace and the other boys whose parents had debarred them from all this pleasure before them. when the hour was up another start was made. this time they headed up the erratic radway. the skaters still clung to them, bent on seeing all they could of those whom they envied so much. progress was sometimes very tedious, because the wind persisted in meeting them head on, and it is not the easiest task in the world to force an iceboat against a negative breeze. tacking had to be resorted to many times, and each mile they gained was well won. the boys enjoyed the exhilarating exercise, however, and while there were a few minor accidents nothing serious interfered with their progress. it was two o'clock when they sighted lake tokala ahead of them. shouts of joy from those in advance told the glad story to the toilers in the rear. this quickened their pulses, and made them all feel that the worst was now over. when the broad reaches of the lake had been gained they were able to make speed once more. it was the best part of the entire trip--the run across the wide lake. and how the sight of cedar island brought back most vividly recollections of the happy and exciting days spent there not many months before! wallace and his three chums still held on. they declared they were bound to stick like "leeches" until they had seen the expedition safely across the lake. what if night did overtake them before they got back to the bushkill again? there would be a moon, and skating would be a pleasure under such favorable conditions. "don't see any signs of another wild man on the island, do you, jack?" asked tom betts, as the _speedaway_ fairly flew past the oasis in the field of ice that was crowned by a thick growth of cedars, which had given the island its name. "nothing doing in that line, tom," replied the other with a laugh. "such an adventure happens to ordinary fellows only once in a life-time. but then something just as queer may be sprung on us in the place we're heading for." the crossing of tokala lake did not consume a great deal of time, for the wind had shifted just enough to make it favor them more or less much of the way over. "i c'n see smoke creeping up at the point paul's heading for," announced tom betts. "that must come from the cabin we heard had been built here since we had our outing on the lake." "we were told that it stood close to the mouth of the creek which we have to ascend some miles," remarked jack. "and this man is the one we think to leave our boats in charge of while away in the woods." "i only hope then that he'll be a reliable keeper," observed tom, seriously, "for it would nearly break my heart if anything happened to the _speedaway_ now. i've only tried her out a few times, but she gives promise of beating anything ever built in this section of the country. i don't believe i could duplicate her lines again if i tried." "don't borrow trouble," jack told him. "we'll dismantle the boats all we can before we leave them, and the chances are ten to one we'll find them o.k. when we come out of the woods two weeks from now. but here we are at the place, and the boys who mean to return home will have to say good-bye." chapter xiv the ring of steel runners as the little flotilla of ice yachts drew up close to the shore, the sound of boyish laughter must have been heard, for a man was seen approaching. he came from the direction of the cabin which they had sighted among the trees, and from the mud and stone chimney of which smoke was ascending straight into the air--a promise of continued good weather. the boys were climbing up the bank when he reached them. so far as they could see he appeared to be a rough but genial man, and paul believed they could easily trust him to take care of the boats while away. "i suppose you are abe turner, spoken of by mr. garrity?" was the way paul addressed the man, holding out his hand in friendly greeting. the other's face relaxed into a smile. evidently he liked this manly looking young chap immediately, as most people did, for paul had a peculiarly winning way about him. "that's my name, and i reckon now you must be paul," said the other. "why, how did you know that?" demanded bobolink, in surprise. "oh! i had a letter from mr. thomas garrity telling me all about you boys, and ordering me to do anything you might want. you see he owns all the country around here, an' i'm holding the fort until spring, when there's going to be some big timber cutting done. we expect to get it to market down the radway." the scouts exchanged pleased looks. "bully for mr. thomas garrity!" shouted tom betts, "he's all to the good, if his conversion to liking boys did come late in life. he's bound to make up for all the lost time now. three cheers, fellows, for our good friend!" they were given with a rousing will, and the echoes must have alarmed some of the shy denizens of the snow forest, for a fox was seen to scurry across an open spot, and a bevy of crows in some not far distant oak trees started to caw and call. "all we want you to do for us, abe," explained paul, "is to take good care of our five iceboats, which we will have to leave with you." "and we might as well tell you in the beginning," added bobolink, "that several tough chaps from our town have come up here to spend some time, just from learning of our plans." "yes," went on tom betts, the anxious one, "and nothing would tickle that hank lawson and his gang so much as to be able to sneak some of our boats away, or, failing that, to smash them into kindling wood with an axe." abe nodded his shaggy head and smiled. "i've heard some things about hank lawson," he observed. "but take it from me that if he comes around my shanty trying any of his tricks he'll get a lesson he'll never forget. i'll see to it that your boats are kept safe. i've two dogs off hunting in the woods just now, but i'll fasten 'em nigh where you store the boats. i'm sorry for the boy who gets within the grip of towser's teeth, yes, or clinch's either." that was good news to tom, who smiled as though finally satisfied that there was really nothing to be feared. "sorry to say we'll have to be leaving you, boys," announced wallace just then, as he started to go the rounds with a mournful face, shaking hands with each lucky scout whom he envied so much. "hope you have the time of your lives," called out another of those who were debarred from enjoying the outing. these boys started away, looking back from time to time as they crossed wide lake tokala. finally, with a last parting salute, they darted into the mouth of the canal and were lost to view. there was an immediate bustle, for time was flitting, and much remained to be done. the five owners of the iceboats proceeded to dismantle them, which was not a tedious proceeding. the masts were unstepped and hidden in a place by themselves. the sails were taken into the cabin of abe, where they would be safe. meanwhile, the other boys had been engaged in making up the various packs which from now on must be shouldered by each member of the expedition. experience in such things allowed them to accomplish more in a given time than novices would have been able to do. "everything seems to be ready, paul," announced jack after a while, as they gathered around, each boy striving to fix his individual pack upon his back, and getting some other fellow to adjust the straps. bobolink seemed to have half again as much as any of the others, though this was really all his own doing. besides his usual share of the luggage he had pots and pans and skillets sticking out in all directions, so that he presented the appearance of a traveling tinker. "it's a great pity, bobolink," said tom betts, with a grin, as he surveyed his comrade after helping the other load up, "that you were born about seventy-five years too late." "tell me why," urged the other. "think what a peddler you would have made! you'd have been a howling success hawking your goods around the country." of course they had all adjusted their skates before taking up their packs; for bending down would really have been next to a physical impossibility after those weighty burdens had been assumed. "hope you have a right good time, boys," said abe turner in parting. "and don't any of you worry about these boats. when you come back this way you'll find everything slick and neat here." "good for you, abe," cried tom betts. "and make up your mind to it the banner boy scouts never forget their friends. you're on the list, abe. good-bye!" they were off at last, and it was high time, for the short december day was already getting well along toward its close. night would come almost before they knew it, though they had no reason to expect anything like darkness, with that moon now much more than half full up there in the heavens. some of the boys had noticed the mouth of this creek when camping on cedar island the previous summer. they had been so much occupied with fishing, taking flashlight pictures of little wild animals in their native haunts, and in solving certain mysteries that came their way that none of them had had time to explore the stream. on this account then it would prove to be a new bit of country for them, and this fact rather pleased most of the boys, as they dearly loved to prowl around in a section they had never visited before. strung out in a straggling procession they skated along. the creek was about as crooked as anything could well be, a fact that influenced bobolink to shout out: "in the absence of a better name, fellows, i hereby christen this waterway snake creek; any objections?" "it deserves the name, all right," commented spider sexton, "for i never saw such a wiggly stream in all my born days." "seems as if we had already come all of five miles, and nary a sign of a cabin ahead yet that i can see," observed phil towns, presently, for phil was really beginning to feel pretty well used up, not being quite so sturdy as some others among the ten scouts. "that's the joke," laughed paul; "and it's on me i guess more than any one else. i thought of nearly a thousand things, seems to me, but forgot to ask any one just how far it was up to the cabin from the lake by way of this scrambling creek." "why, i'm sure mr. garrity said something like six miles!" exclaimed jack. "yes, but that may have meant as the crow flies, straightaway," returned the scout-master. "at the worst then, paul," bobolink ventured to say, "we can camp, and spend a night in the open under the hemlocks. veteran scouts have no need to be afraid to tackle such a little game as that, with plenty of grub and blankets along." "hear! hear!" said phil towns. "and as the sun has set already i for one wouldn't care how soon you decided to do that stunt." "oh! we ought to be good for another hour or so anyway, phil," tom told him, at which the other only grunted and struck manfully out again. as evening closed in about them, the shadows began to creep out of the heavy growth of timber by which the skaters were surrounded. "look! look! a deer!" shrieked sandy griggs, suddenly. thrilled by the cry the others looked ahead just in time to see a flitting form disappear in the thick fringe of shrubbery that lined one side of the creek. chapter xv tolly tip and the forest cabin "oh! that's too bad!" exclaimed spider sexton, "i've been telling everybody we'd taste venison of our own killing while off on this trip, and there the first deer we've glimpsed gives us the merry ha-ha!" "rotten luck!" grumbled jud elderkin. "and me with a rifle gripped in my fist all the time. but i only had a glimpse of a brown object disappearing in the brush, and i never want to just _wound_ a deer so it will suffer. that's why i didn't fire when i threw my gun up." "with me," explained jack stormways, "it happened that bluff here was just in my way when i had the chance to aim." "well," laughed bobolink, "you might have shot straight through his head, because it's a vacuum. i once heard a teacher tell him so when he failed in his lessons every day for a week." "oh! there's bound to be plenty of deer where you can see one so easily," paul told them, "so cheer up. unless i miss my guess we'll have all sorts of game to eat while up here in the snow woods. abe said it was a big season for fur and feather this year." they kept plodding along and put more miles behind them. the moon now had to be relied on to afford them light, because the last of the sunset glow had departed from the western heavens. phil was beginning to feel very tired, and feared he would have to give up unless inside of another mile or two they arrived at their intended destination. being a proud boy he detested showing any signs of weakness, and clinched his teeth more tightly together as he pressed on, keeping a little behind the rest, so that no one should hear his occasional groan. all at once a glad cry broke out ahead, coming from sandy griggs, who at the moment chanced to be in the van. "i reckon that's a jolly big fire yonder, fellows, unless i miss my guess!" he told them. "it is a fire, sure thing," agreed bobolink. "tolly tip has been looking for us, it seems, and has built a roaring blaze out of doors to serve as a guide to our faltering steps!" announced jud, pompously, although he could hardly have been referring to himself, for his pace seemed to be just as swift and bold as when he first set out. "it's less than half a mile away i should say, even with this crooked stream to navigate," announced bobolink, more to comfort phil than anything else. "keep going right along, and don't bother about me, i'm all right," called the latter, cheerfully, from the rear. in a short time the scouts drew near what proved to be a roaring fire built on the bank of the creek. they could see a man moving about, and he must have already heard their voices in the near distance for he was shading his eyes with his hand, and looking earnestly their way. "hello, tolly tip!" cried out the boisterous bobolink. "here we come, right-side up with care! how's mrs. tip, and all the little tips?" this was only a boyish joke, for they had already been told by mr. garrity that the keeper of the hunting lodge was a jolly old bachelor. but bobolink must have his say regardless of everything. they heard the trapper laugh as though he immediately fell in with the spirit of fun that these boys carried with them. "he's all right!" exclaimed bobolink, on catching that boisterous laugh. "who's all right? tolly tip, the keeper of deer head lodge, situated in garrity camp! for he's a jolly good fellow, which none can deny!" amidst all this laughter and chatter the ten scouts arrived at the spot where the welcoming blaze awaited them, to receive a warm welcome from the queer, old fellow who took care of mr. garrity whenever the latter chose to hide away from his business vexations up here in the woods. the boys could see immediately that tolly tip was about as queer as his name would indicate. at the same time they believed they would like him. his blue eyes twinkled with good humor, and he had a droll irish brogue that was bound to add to the flavor of the stories they felt sure he had on the end of his tongue. "sure, it's delighted i am to say the lot av yees this night," he said as they came crowding around, each wanting to shake his hand fiercely. "mr. garrity towld me in the letther he was after sindin' up with the tame that ye war a foine bunch av lads, that would be afther kapin' me awake all right. and sure i do belave 'twill be so." "i hope we won't bother you too much while we're here," said paul, understanding what an energetic crowd he was piloting on this excursion. "ye couldn't do the same if ye tried," tolly tip declared, heartily. "i have to be alone most all the long winther, an' it do be a great trate to hav' some lively lads visit me for a s'ason. fetch the packs along wid ye into the cabin. i want to make ye sorry for carrying all this stuff wid ye up here." his words mystified them until, having entered the capacious cabin built of hewn logs, with the chinks well filled with hard mortar, they were shown a wagonload of groceries which mr. garrity had actually taken secret pleasure in purchasing without letting the boys know anything about it. a team had found its way across the miles of intervening woods, and delivered this magnificent present at the forest lodge. it was intended to be a surprise to the boys, and mr. garrity certainly overwhelmed them with his generosity. bobolink alone was seen to stand and gaze regretfully at the small edition of a grocery store, meanwhile shaking his head sorrowfully. "what ails you, bobolink?" demanded one of his chums. "it can't be done, no matter how many meals a day we try to make way with," the other solemnly announced. "i've been calculating, and there's enough stuff there to feed us a month. then, besides, think of what we toted along. shucks! why didn't nature make boys with india rubber stomachs." "some fellows i happen to know have already been favored in that line," hinted tom betts, maliciously; "but as for the rest of us, we have to get along with just the old-fashioned kind." "cheer up, bobolink," laughed paul; "what we can't devour we'll be only too glad to leave to our good friend tolly tip here. the chances are he'll know what to do with everything so none of it will be wasted." "when a man who all his life has been as tightfisted as mr. garrity does wake up," said phil towns, "he goes to the other extreme, and shames a lot of people who've been calling themselves charitable." "oh! that's because he has so much to make up, i guess," explained jud. while some of the boys started in to get a good supper ready the others went around taking a look at the cabin in the snowy woods that was to be their home for the next twelve days. it had been strongly built to resist the cold, though as a rule the owner did not come up here after the leaves were off the forest trees. a stove in one room could be used to keep it as warm as toast when foot-long lengths of wood were fed to its capacious maw. the fire in the big open hearth served to heat the other room, and over this the cooking was also done. several bunks gave promise of snug sleeping quarters. as these would accommodate only four it was evident that lots must be cast to see who the lucky quartette would prove to be. "to-morrow," said paul, when speaking of this lack of accommodations, "one of the very first things we do will be to fix other bunks, because every scout should have a decent place for his bed. there's plenty of room in here to make a regular scout dormitory of it." "fine!" commented tom betts; "and those of us who draw the short straws can manage somehow with our blankets on the floor for one night, i guess." "we've all slept soundly on harder beds than that, let me tell you," asserted bobolink, "and for one i decline to draw a straw. me for the soft side of a plank to-night, you hear." the other boys knew that bobolink, in his generosity, really had in mind phil and one or two more of the boys, not quite so accustomed to roughing it as others of the campers. that supper, eaten under such novel surroundings, would long be remembered; for while these boys were old hands at camping, up to now they had never spent any time in the open while jack frost had his stamp on all nature, and the earth was covered with snow. it was, all things considered, one of the greatest evenings in their lives. chapter xvi the first night out "well, it's started in to snow!" jud elderkin made this surprising statement after he had gone to the door to take a peep at the weather. "you must be fooling, jud," expostulated tom, "because when i looked out not more'n fifteen minutes ago the moon was shining like everything." "all right, that may be, but she's blanketed behind the clouds right now, and the snow's coming down like fun," asserted jud. "seems that we didn't get here any too soon, then," chuckled bluff. "oh! a little snow wouldn't have bothered us any," laughed jack. "we'd never think of minding a heavy fall at home, and why should we worry now?" "that's a fact," bobolink went on to remark, with a look of solid satisfaction on his beaming face. "plenty of wood under the shed near by, and enough grub to feed an army. we're all right." after several of them had gone to verify jud's statement, and had brought back positive evidence in the shape of snowballs, the boys again clustered around the jolly fire and continued to talk on various subjects that chanced to interest them. "i wonder now," remarked bobolink, finally, "if hank took mr. briggs' money as well as set fire to his store." as this was the first mention that had been made concerning this subject tolly tip showed considerable interest. "is it the ould storekeeper in stanhope ye mane?" he asked. "because i did me tradin' with the same the short time i was in town, and sorry a bargain did i ever sacure from misther briggs." "plenty of other people are in the same boat with you there, tolly tip," sandy told him with a chuckle. "but his run of good luck has met with a snag. somebody set fire to his store, which was partly burned down the other night." "yes, and the worst part of it," added bobolink, "was that mr. briggs accidentally, or on purpose, let his insurance policy lapse, so that he can get no damages on account of this fire." "and the last thing we heard before coming away," phil towns went on to say, "was that the safe had been broken open and robbed. poor old levi briggs' cup is full to overflowing i guess. everything seems to be coming his way in a bunch." "i suspect that this hank ye're tillin' me about must be a wild harum-scarum broth av a boy thin?" remarked the old woodsman, puffing at his pipe contentedly. "he is the toughest boy in town," said phil. "and several others train with him who aim to beat his record if they can," spider sexton hastened to add as his contribution. "there's absolutely nothing they wouldn't try if they thought they could get some fun or gain out of it," declared jud emphatically. "do till!" exclaimed their host, shaking his head dolefully as though he disliked knowing that any boys could sink to such a low level. "why, only the other day," said bobolink, "jack and i saw the gang pick on a couple of tramps who had just come out of briggs' store. so far as we knew the hoboes hadn't offered to say a word to hank and his crowd, but the fellows ran them out of town with a shower of stones. didn't they, jack?" "yes. and we saw one tramp get a hard blow on the head from a rock, in the bargain," assented jack. "wow! but they were a mad pair, let me tell you," concluded bobolink. "by the same token," observed tolly tip, "till me av one of the tramps had on an ould blue army coat wid rid linin' to the same?" bobolink uttered an exclamation of surprise. "just what he did, i give you my word!" he replied hastily. "and was the other chap a long-legged hobo, wid a face that made ye think av the sharp idge av a hatchet?" the old trapper questioned. "i reckon you must have seen the pair yourself, tolly tip!" observed bobolink. "were you in stanhope, or did they happen to pass this way?" at that the taker of furs touched his cheek just below his eye with the tip of his finger, and smiled humorously. "'tis the black eye they were afther giving me early this day, sure it was," he explained. "not two miles away from here it happened, where the road cuts through the woods like a knife blade. i'd been out to look at a few traps set in that section whin i kim on the spalpeens. we had words, and the shorter chap wid the army coat ran, but the other engaged me. before he cut stick he managed to lave the imprission av his fists on me face, bad luck to the same." "i guess after all, jack," remarked bobolink, "they must be a couple of hard cases, and hank did the town a service when he chased them off." "it would be the first time on record then that the lawson crowd was of any benefit to the community," jack commented; "but accidents will happen, you know. they didn't mean to do a good turn, only have what they call fun." "so the shorter rascal didn't have any fight in him, it seems, tolly tip?" bobolink observed, as though the subject interested him considerably. "oh! as for that," replied the trapper, "mebbe he do be afther thinkin' discretion was the better part av valor. ye say, he had one av his hands wrapped up in a rag, and i suspect he must have been hurt." "that's interesting, at any rate!" declared bobolink. "when we saw him he had the use of both hands. something must have happened after that. i wonder what." "you're the greatest fellow to _wonder_ i ever knew," laughed sandy griggs. "bobolink likes to grapple with mysteries," said jud, "and from now on he'll keep bothering his head about that tramp's injured hand, wanting to know whether he cut himself with a broken bottle, or burned his fingers when cooking his coffee in an old tomato can over the campfire." "let bobolink alone, boys," said paul. "if he chooses to amuse himself in that way what's the odds? who knows but what he may surprise us with a wonderful discovery some day." "thank you, paul," the other remarked drily. after that the subject was dropped. it did not offer much of interest to the other scouts, but paul, glancing towards bobolink several times, could easily see that he was pondering over something. after all, the snow did not last long. before they finally went to bed they found that the moon had once more appeared through a rift in the clouds, and not more than two inches of fresh snow had covered the ground. there was considerable skirmishing around done when the boys commenced to make their final preparations for spending the first night in their winter camp. no one would think of taking tolly tip's bunk when he generously offered it, and so straws were drawn for the remaining three, as well as the cot upon which mr. garrity slept when up at his deer head lodge. the fortunate ones turned out to be paul, bluff, frank and bobolink, though the last mentioned declared positively that he preferred sleeping on the floor as a novelty, and insisted that phil towns occupy his bunk. they managed to make themselves comfortable after a fashion, though the appearance of the "dormitory" excited considerable laughter, with the boys sprawled out in every direction. all of the boys were up early, and they were eager to take up the many plans they had laid out for the day. breakfast was the first thing on the calendar; and while it was being prepared and dispatched the tongues of that half score of boys ran on like the water over the wheel of the old mill, with a constant clatter. there was no necessity for all of them to remain at home to work on the new bunks, so paul picked out several to assist him in that work. the others were at liberty to carry out such scout activities as most appealed to their fancy. some planned to go off with the woodsman to see how he managed with his steel traps, by means of which, during the winter, he expected to lay by quite a good-sized bundle of valuable fur. then there was wood to chop, pictures to be taken, favorable places to be found for setting the camera during a coming night so as to get a flashlight view of a fox or a mink in the act of stealing the bait, as well as numerous other pleasant duties and diversions, all of which had been eagerly planned for the preceding night as the boys sat before the crackling fire. chapter xvii "tip-ups" for pickerel tom betts came up from the frozen creek. "i don't believe that little snow ought to keep us from trying the scheme we laid out between us, jack," he said, looking entreatingly at the other. "why, no, there wasn't enough to hurt the skating," replied the other, readily, much to tom's evident satisfaction. "bully for you, jack!" he exclaimed. "there was more or less wind blowing at the time, and the snow was pretty dry, so it blew off the ice. we can easily make the lake in an hour i reckon, with daylight to help us. besides, we know the way by this time, you see." "all right!" called out frank, who had been detailed to assist paul in the making of the extra bunks out of some spare boards that lay near by, having been brought into the woods for some purpose, though never used. "remember, you two fishermen," warned paul, "we'll all have our mouths set for pickerel to-night, so don't dare disappoint us, or there will be a riot in the camp." "we've just got to get those fish, jack," said tom, with mock solemnity, "even if we have to go in ourselves after them. our lives wouldn't be worth a pinch of salt in this crowd if they had to go pickerelless to-night." "oh! that'll do! be off with you!" roared jud elderkin, making out to throw a frying-pan at tom's head. when at the lake talking to the man who had agreed to look after their iceboats during their absence, the boys had learned that there was fine fishing through the ice to be had at this season of the year. abe turner had also informed them that should they care to indulge in the sport at any time, and should skate down to his cabin, he would show them just how it was done. what was more to the point, he had a store of live minnows in a spring-hole that never froze up, even in the hardest winter, he had been told. this then was the object that drew the two scouts, both of them exceedingly fond of fishing in every way. none of the boys had ever fished through the ice, it happened, though they knew how it was done. accordingly, tom and jack set off down the creek, their skate runners sending back that clear ringing sound that is music in the ears of every lad who loves the outdoor sports of winter. jack carried his gun along. not that he had any particular intention of hunting, for others had taken that upon themselves as a part of the day's routine, but then a deer might happen to cross their path, and such a chance if it came would be too good to lose. "you see," commented tom, after a mile or so had been placed to their credit, "the snow isn't going to bother us the least bit. and i never enjoyed skating any better than right now." "same here," jack told him. "and we certainly couldn't find ourselves surrounded by a prettier scene, with every twig covered with snow." "listen!" both of them stopped when tom called in this fashion, and strained their ears to catch a repetition of the sound tom had heard. "oh! that's only a fox barking," said jack. "i've heard them do it many a time. you know they belong to the dog family, just as the wolf and jackal and hyena do. tolly tip has a couple of fox pelts already, and he says they are very numerous this year. come on, let's be moving again." so they pursued their winding way down the straggling creek, first turning to the right and then to the left. "it's been just an hour since we left camp," remarked jack at length, "and there you can catch a glimpse of the lake through the trees yonder." abe turner was surprised as well as pleased to find two of the boys at his door that morning. "didn't expect us back so soon, did you, abe?" laughed tom. "but in laying out the plans for to-day we found that some of the boys were fish hungry, so we decided to run down and take you up on your proposition." "nothing would please me better," abe told them. "and it is about as good a day for ice fishing as anybody'd want to set eyes on. i'll go right away and get my lines. then we'll pick up a pail, and put some of my minnows in it." before long they were out upon the ice of lake tokala, tom carrying an axe, jack the various lines and "tip-ups" that were to signal when a fish had been hooked, and abe with the live bait in a tin bucket. the day was not a bitterly cold one, and this promised to make fishing agreeable work. "on the big lakes where they do a heap of this kind of work," explained their guide as they went toward cedar island, "the men build little shanties out on the ice, where they can keep fairly warm. you see sometimes the weather is terribly cold. but a day like this makes it a pleasure to be out." coming to a place where abe knew from previous experience that a good haul could be made, the first hole was cut in the ice. as winter was still young this did not prove to be a hard task. abe had marked a dozen places where these holes were to be chopped, but the boys chose to watch him set his first line. after the novelty had worn off they would be ready to take a hand themselves. there are many sorts of "tip-ups" used in this species of sport, but abe's kind answered all purposes and was very simple, being possibly the original "tip-up." he would take a branch that had a certain kind of fork as thick around as his little finger. in cutting this he left two short "feet" and one long one. to tom's mind it looked something like an old-fashioned cannon, with the line securely tied to the short projecting muzzle. when the fish took hold this point was pulled down, with the result that the longer "tail" shot up into the air, the outstretched legs preventing the fork from being drawn into the hole. at the end of the long "tail" abe had fastened a small piece of red flannel. when a dozen lines were out it often kept a man busy running this way and that to attend to the numerous calls as signaled by the upraised red flags. "now that we know just how it's done," said tom, after they had seen the bait fastened to the hook and dropped into the lake, "we'll get busy cutting all those other holes. my turn next, jack, you remember. watch my smoke." they had hardly finished the second hole before they heard abe laughing, and glancing toward him discovered that he was holding up a two-pound, struggling pickerel. "first blood for abe!" cried tom. "but if they keep on biting it'll be our chance soon, jack. my stars! but that is a beaut, though. a dozen like that would make the boys stare, i tell you." when abe had arranged four lines he would not hear of the boys cutting any more holes. "i'll dig out a couple to make an even half dozen," he told them. "and the way the pike are biting to-day i reckon we'll get a good mess." "all right, then," agreed tom, much relieved, for he wanted to be pulling in the fish rather than doing the drudgery. "i'll look after these two holes, jack, and you skirmish around the others. and by jinks! if i haven't got one right now!" "the same here," shouted the equally excited jack. "whew! how he does pull though! must be a whopper this time. i hope i don't lose him!" fortune favored the ice fishermen, for both captives were saved, and they proved to be even larger than the first one taken. so the fun went on. at times it slackened more or less, only to begin again with new momentum. the pile of fish on the ice, rapidly freezing, once they were exposed to the air, increased until at noon they had all they could think of carrying home. "the rest of the day we'll take things easy, and lay in a stock for abe here," suggested tom; for the guide had told them he meant to cure as many of the fish as he could secure, since later on in the winter they would be much more difficult to catch, and it would be a long time until april came with its break-up of the ice. the boys certainly enjoyed every minute of their stay at the lake. jack was wise enough to know that they had better start for camp about three o'clock. it might not be quite so easy going back, as they would be tired, and the wind was against them. they had skated for over half an hour, with their heavy packs on their backs, when again tom called to his comrade to listen. "and believe me it wasn't a fox that time, jack!" he declared, "but, as sure as you live, it sounded like somebody calling weakly for help!" chapter xviii the helping hand of a scout when jack, listening, caught the same sound, he turned upon his companion with a serious expression on his face. "let's kick off our skates and hang our packs up in the crotch of this tree, tom," he said. "then you expect to investigate, and find out what it means, do you?" "we'd feel pretty mean if we went on our way like the levite in the old story of the good samaritan," remarked jack, busily disengaging his bundle of fish which abe had done up in a piece of old bagging. "i'm the last one to do such a thing," asserted tom, "only i chanced to remember that there are some tough boys up here somewhere--hank and his crowd--and i was wondering if this could be a trick to get us to put our fingers in a trap." jack chuckled, and held up his gun. "we ought to be able to take care of ourselves with this," he told his chum. "right you are, jack! so let's be on the jump. there! that sounded like a big groan, didn't it? somebody's in a peck of trouble. maybe a wood-chopper has had a tree fall on him or cut his foot with his axe, and is bleeding badly." "just what i had in mind," remarked the other, as they started into the shrubbery. the groans continued; therefore, the two scouts had no difficulty in going directly to the spot. in a few minutes tom clutched his chum's sleeve and pointed directly ahead. "ginger! it looks like sim jeffreys," he whispered. "no other," added jack. "but what's the matter with the fellow?" continued tom. "see how he keeps tugging away at his right leg. i bet you he's gone and got it caught in a root, and can't work it free. i've been through just such an experience." "we'll soon find out," remarked jack, pushing forward. "be mighty careful, jack," urged the other, not yet wholly convinced that the groans were really genuine, for he knew how tricky sim jeffreys had always been. by this time the other had become aware of their presence. he turned an agonized face toward them, upon which broke a gleam of wild hope. if sim jeffreys were playing a part then, jack thought, he must be a clever actor. "oh, say! ain't i glad to see you boys," he called, holding both his hands out toward them. "come, help me get free from this pesky old trap here!" "trap!" echoed tom. "just what do you mean by that, sim?" "i ain't tryin' to fool you, boys. sure i ain't!" exclaimed the other, anxiously. "seems to me like an old bear trap, though i never saw one before. i was out with my gun, lookin' for partridges, when all of a sudden it jumped up and grabbed me right by the leg." neither of the boys could believe this strange story until they had taken a look. then they saw that it was just as sim had declared. the trap was old and very rusty. jack saw that it had lost much of its former fierce grip, which was lucky for poor sim, for otherwise he might have had his leg badly injured. still the jaws retained enough force to hold the boy securely; though had sim retained his presence of mind, instead of tugging wildly to break away, he might have found it possible to bear down on the weakened springs and set himself free. tom and jack quickly did this service for the other, who was profuse in his expressions of gratitude, though neither of the scouts believed in his sincerity, for sim had a reputation for being slippery and double-faced. "why, i might have frozen to death here to-night," he told them. "even if i had lived till to-morrow i'd have starved sure. the bears would have got me too, or the wildcats." "didn't you call when you first got caught?" asked tom. "i should say i did, till i could hardly whisper, but nobody seemed to hear me shout," came the reply, as sim rubbed his swollen and painful leg. "guess i'll have to limp all the way back to the hole in the rocks where the rest of the boys are campin'." "how far away from here is it?" asked jack, wondering whether they ought to do anything more for sim or let him shift for himself. "oh, a mile and more, due west," the boy told them. "where that hill starts up, see? we haven't got much grub along with us, b'cause, you see, we depended on shooting heaps of game. but so far i've knocked down only one bird." "do you think you can make it, sim?" persisted jack. the fellow limped around a little before replying. "i reckon i kin. though i'll be pretty sore to-morrow like as not, after this silly thing grabbin' me the way it did. i know my way home, boys, never fear, and i'll turn up there sooner or later. much obliged for your help." with that sim started off as though eager to get his hard work over with. and as there was nothing more to be done, the two chums returned to the creek, shouldered their heavy packs after resuming their skates, and went on their way. it was just about dusk when they made the cabin on the bank of snake creek; and as the others discovered their burdens a shout of joy went up. "the country's safe," said jud, "since you've brought home a stack of fine pickerel. let's see what they look like, fellows." at sight of the big fish the boys were loud in their congratulations. "wouldn't mind having a try at that fun myself one of these days," asserted jud, enviously. "paul, jot it down that i'm to be your side partner when you take a notion to go down to the lake." "some of you get busy here fixing the fish, if we mean to have them to-night," remarked jack, who was too tired to think of doing it himself. "too late for that this evening. we've got supper all ready for you. the fish will have to keep till to-morrow," announced bobolink. "what's this i smell in the air?" demanded tom. "don't tell me you've bagged a deer already?" "just what we have!" said bobolink, his eyes glistening so, that it required little effort to decide who the lucky hunter was. "why, he wasn't away from camp an hour," asserted phil towns, "when we heard him whooping, and in he came with a young buck on his back. i never thought bobolink was strong enough to tote that load a mile and more." "huh! i'd have carried in an elephant if it had dropped to my gun, i felt that good!" declared the happy hunter. "but all the adventures haven't fallen to you fellows who stayed here in camp or wandered about in the adjacent woods," announced tom, mysteriously. "what else have you been doing besides catching that dandy mess of fish?" asked the scout-master, voicing the curiosity of the entire crowd. "say! did you shoot some game, too--a deer, a wildcat, or maybe a big black bear?" demanded bobolink, eagerly. "no, the gun was never fired," continued tom. "but we've got a right to turn our badges over for this day, because we performed a good samaritan act." "go on and tell us about it!" urged sandy griggs. "we heard groans, and weak calls for help," said tom, unable to keep back his news any longer, though he would have liked very much to continue tantalizing the others, "and after we had kicked off our skates and hung our packs in a tree, we went over into the woods and found----" "what?" roared several of the curious scouts in unison. "who but our fellow townsman, sim jeffreys, whining and groaning to beat the band," continued the narrator. "it seems that he had got caught in a trap, and expected to be frozen to death to-night, or starve there to-morrow." "a trap, did ye say?" asked tolly tip. and paul noticed a sudden look of enlightenment come into his face. "tell us what sort of a trap, tom?" urged bobolink. "a regular bear trap!" replied the one addressed. "oh, come now! you're trying to play some sort of trick on us, fellows," cried spider sexton. "how ever would a real bear trap come there?" "ask tolly tip," suggested paul. "that's right, lads, i know all about that trap," admitted the old woodsman, as he grinned at them. "i had an ole bear trap that had lost its grip and wasn't wuth much. i sot the same in the woods, but nothin' iver kim nigh it, and so i jest forgets all about the same. but bless me sowl i niver dramed it'd be afther grippin' a lad by the leg. all he had to do was to push down on the springs, and he'd been loose." "i could see that plainly enough," admitted jack. "the trouble was sim fell into a panic as soon as he found himself caught, and all he could do was to squirm and pull and shout and groan. it shows the foolishness of letting a thing scare you out of your seven senses." "but do you mean to say there are real, live bears around here, tolly tip?" demanded bobolink, his eyes nearly round with excitement. "there's one rogue av a bear that i've tried to git for this two year, but by the same token he's been too smart for the likes av me." "that interests me a whole lot," remarked paul; "and i mean to devote much of my spare time to trying to shoot that same bear with my camera in order to get a flashlight picture of him in his native haunts!" chapter xix news of big game "faith and would ye mind tillin' me how that same might be done?" asked tolly tip, showing considerable interest. "i niver knowed that ye could shoot a bear with a shmall contraption like that black box." some of the boys snickered, but paul frowned on them. "when we speak that way," he went on to explain, "we mean getting an object in the proper focus, and then clicking the trigger of the camera. we are really just taking a picture." "oh! now i say what ye mane," admitted the woodsman; "but i niver owned a camera in all me life, so i'm what ye'd call grane at it. sure 'tis a harmless way av shootin' anything i should say." "but it gives a fellow just as much pleasure to get a cracking good picture of a wild animal at home as it does a hunter to kill," phil towns hastened to remark. tolly tip, however, shook his head in the negative, as though to declare that for the life of him he could not see it that way. "if you can show me a place that the black bear is using," paul continued, "i'll fix my camera in such a way that when bruin pulls at a bait attached to a cord he'll ignite the flashlight cartridge, and take his own photograph." at that the woodsman laughed aloud, so novel did the scheme strike him. "i'll do that same and without delay, me lad," he declared. "i've got a notion this very minute that i know where i might find my bear; and after nightfall i'll bait the ground wid some ould combs av wild honey." "wild honey did you say?" asked jud, licking his lips in anticipation, for if there was one thing to eat in all the wide world jud liked better than another it was the sweets from the hive. "och! 'tis mesilf that has stacks av the same laid away, and i promise ye all ye kin eat while ye stay here," the woodsman told them, at which jud executed a pigeon-wing to express his satisfaction. "and did you gather it yourself around here, tolly tip?" he inquired. "nawthin' else," acknowledged the old trapper. "ye say, whin mister garrity do be staying down in town it's small work i have to do; and to locate a bee tree is a rale pleasure. some time i'll till ye how we go about the thrick. av course there's no use tryin' it afther winter sets in, for the bees stick in the hive." "and bears just dote on honey, do they, the same as jud here does?" asked frank. "a bear kin smell honey a mile away," the woodsman declared. "in fact, the very last time i glimpsed the ould varmint we've been spakin' about 'twas at the bee tree i'd chopped down. i wint home to sacure some pails, and whin i got back to the spot there the ould beast was a lickin' up the stuff in big gobs. sure i could have shot him aisy enough, but i had made up me mind to take him in a trap or not at all, so i lit him go." "so he got his share of the honey, did he?" asked jud. "oh! i lift him all i didn't want, and set a trap to nab him, but by me word he was too smart for tolly tip." "then i hope you salt the ground to-night," remarked paul, "and that i can set my camera to-morrow evening and see what comes of it." it was not long before they were sitting down to the first real game supper of the excursion. everybody spoke of it as "bobolink's venison treat," and that individual's boyish heart swelled with pride from time to time until spider sexton called out: "next thing you know we'll have a real tragedy hereabouts." "what do you mean?" demanded phil towns. "why," explained spider, "bobolink keeps on swelling out his chest like a pouter pigeon every time somebody happens to mention his deer, and i'm afraid he'll burst with vanity soon." "and when the day's doings are written up," bluff put in, "be sure and put in that another of our gallant band came within an ace of being terribly bitten by a savage wild beast." "please explain what it's all about," begged tom. "you see jack and i were away pretty much all day. you and sandy went off with tolly tip, didn't you, to see how he managed his traps? was it then the terrible thing happened?" "it was," said bluff, with a chuckle. "you see tolly tip kept on explaining everything as we went from trap to trap, and both of us learned heaps this morning. finally, we came to the marsh and there a muskrat trap held a big, ferocious animal by the hind leg." "you see," sandy broke in, as though anxious to show off his knowledge of the art of trapping, "as a rule the rat is drowned, which saves the skin from being mangled. but this one stayed up on the bank instead of jumping off when caught in the trap. now go on, bluff." "sandy accidentally got a mite too close to the beast," continued the other. "first thing i knew i heard a snarl, and then sandy jumped back, with the teeth of the muskrat clinging to the elbow of his coat sleeve. an inch further and our chum'd have been badly bitten. it was a mighty narrow escape, let me tell you." "another thing that would interest you, paul," bluff went on to say, "was the beaver house we saw in the pond the animals had made when they built a dam across the creek, a mile above here." "beavers around this section too!" exclaimed jud, as though it almost took his breath away. "only wan little colony," explained tolly tip. "i'd give something to get a picture of real, live beavers, at their work," paul remarked. "thin ye'll have till come up this way nixt spring time, whin they do be friskin' around like young lambs," the woodsman told him. "jist now they do be snug in their winter quarters, and ye'll not see a speck av thim. if it's the house ye want to take a picture av, the chance is yours any day ye see fit." after supper was over jack and tom took a look at the new bunks. "a bully job, fellows!" declared the latter, "and one that does you credit. why, every one of us is now fitted with a coffin. and i see we can sleep without danger of rolling out, since you've fixed a slat across the front of each bunk." "taken as a whole," frank announced, "i think the scouts have done pretty well for their first day at camp garrity. don't you, fellows? plenty of fish and venison in the locker, all these bunks built, lots of valuable information picked up, and last but not least, coals of fire poured on the head of the enemy." they sat around again and talked as the evening advanced, for there was an endless list of interesting things to be considered. later paul accompanied the old woodsman on his walk to the place where he believed the bear would pass. here they set out the honey comb that had been carried along, to serve as an attractive bait. "ye understand," explained tolly tip, as they wended their way homeward again in the silvery moonlight that made the scene look like fairyland, "that once the ould rascal finds a trate like that he'll come a sniffin' around ivery night for a week av sundays, hopin' fortune wull be kind till him ag'in." as the boys were very tired after such a strenuous day, they did not sit up very late. every lad slept soundly on this, the second night in camp. in fact, most of them knew not a single thing five minutes after they lay down until the odor of coffee brought them to their senses to find that it was broad daylight, and that breakfast was well under way. paul and jud left the camp immediately after breakfast intending to go to the place where the honey comb had been left as bait. tolly tip, before they went, explained further. "most times, ye say, bears go into their winter quarters with the first hard cold spell, and hibernate till spring comes. this s'ason it has been so queer i don't know but what the bear is still at large, because i saw his tracks just the day before ye arrived in camp." when the pair came back the others met them with eager questions. "how about it, paul?" "any chance of getting that flashlight?" "did you find the honey gone?" "see any tracks around?" paul held up his hand. "i'll tell you everything in a jiffy, fellows, if you give me half a chance," he said. "yes, we found that the honeycomb had been carried off; and there in the snow were some pretty big tracks left by bruin, the bear!" "good!" exclaimed frank savage, "then he'll be back to-night. it's already settled that you'll coax him to snap off his own picture." chapter xx at the beaver pond the second day in camp promised to be very nearly as full of action as that lively first one had been. every scout had half a dozen things he wanted to do; so, acting on the advice of paul, each made out a list, and thus followed a regular programme. jud, having learned that there were partridges about, set off with his shotgun to see if he could bag a few of the plump birds. "don't forget there are ten of us here, jud!" called spider sexton, "and that each one of us can get away with a bird." "have a heart, can't you?" remonstrated the nimrod, laughingly. "cut it down to half all around, and i might try to oblige you. think of me, staggering along under such a load of game as that. guess you never hefted a fat partridge, spider." "i admit that i never _ate_ one, if that suits you, jud," replied the other, frankly. paul on his part had told tolly tip he would like to accompany him on his round of the traps on that particular morning. "of course, i've got an object in view when i say that," he explained. "it is to take a look at the beaver house you've been telling me about. i want to take my camera along, and snap off a few views of it. that will be better than nothing when we tell the story." "count me in on that trip, paul," said spider sexton. "i always did want to see a regular beaver colony, and learn how they make the dam where their houses are built. i hope you don't object to my joining you?" "not a bit. only too glad to have you for company, spider," answered the scout-master. "only both of us are under tolly tip's orders, you understand. he has his rules when visiting the traps, which we mustn't break, as that might ruin his chances of taking more pelts." "how can that be, paul?" demanded the other. "oh! you'll understand better as you go along," called out bluff, who was close by and heard this talk. "sandy griggs and i learned a heap yesterday while helping him gather his harvest of skins. and for one, i'll never forget what he explained to me, it was all so interesting." "the main thing is this," paul went on to say, in order to relieve spider's intense curiosity to some extent. "you must know all these wild animals are gifted with a marvelous sense of smell, and can readily detect the fact that a human being has been near their haunts." "why, i never thought about that before, paul," admitted spider; "but i can see how it must be so. i've hunted with a good setter, and know what a dog's scent is." "well, a mink or an otter or a fox is gifted even more than the best dog you ever saw," paul continued, "and on that account it's always up to the trapper to conceal the fact that a human being has been around, because these animals seem to know by instinct that man is their mortal enemy." "how does he do it then?" asked spider. "you'll see by watching tolly tip," the scout-master told him. "sometimes trappers set their snares by means of a skiff, so as not to leave a trace of their presence, for water carries no scent. then again they will wade to and from the place where the trap is set." "but in the winter-time they couldn't do that, could they?" protested spider. "of course not, and to overcome that obstacle they sometimes use a scent that overpowers their own, as well as serves to draw the animal to the fatal trap." "oh! i remember now seeing some such thing advertised in a sporting magazine as worth its weight in gold to all trappers. and the more i hear about this the stronger my desire grows to see into it. are we going to start soon, paul?" "there's tolly tip almost ready to move along, so get your gun, and i'll look after my camera, spider." at the time they left camp garrity it presented quite a bustling picture. there was bobolink lustily swinging the axe and cutting some wood close by the shed where a winter's supply of fuel had been piled up. tom betts was busying himself cleaning some of the fish taken on the preceding day. jack was hanging out all the blankets on several lines for an airing, as they still smelled of camphor to a disagreeable extent. several others were moving to and fro engaged in various duties. as the two scouts trotted along at the heels of the old woodsman they found many things to chat about, for there was no need of keeping silent at this early stage of the hike. later on when in the vicinity of the trap line it would be necessary to bridle their tongues, or at least to talk in whispers, for the wary little animals would be apt to shun a neighborhood where they heard the sound of human voices. "one reason i wanted to come out this morning," explained paul, "was that there seems to be a feeling in the air that spells storm to me. if we had a heavy fall of snow the beaver house might be hidden from view." "what's that you say, paul--a storm, when the sun's shining as bright as ever it could? have you had a wireless from washington?" demanded spider, grinning. "oh! i seem to _feel_ it in my bones," laughed paul. "always did affect me that way, somehow or other. and nine times out of ten my barometer tells me truly. how about that, tolly tip? is this fine weather apt to last much longer?" the guide seemed to be amused at what they were saying. "sure and i'm tickled to death to hear ye say that same, paul," he replied. "by the powers i'm blissed wid the same kind av a barometer in me bones. yis, and the signs do be tilling me that inside of forty-eight hours, mebbe a deal less nor that, we're due for a screecher. it has been savin' up a long while now, and whin she breaks loose--howly smoke, but we'll git it!" "meaning a big storm, eh, tolly tip?" asked spider, looking a bit incredulous. "take me worrd for the same, lads," the woodsman told them. "well, if your prediction comes true," said spider, "i must try to find out how to know what sort of weather is coming. i often watch the predictions of the weather bureau tacked up at the post office, but lots of times it's away off the track. bobolink was saying only this morning that he expected we'd skip all the bad weather on this trip." at mention of bobolink's name, the trapper chuckled. "'tis a quare chap that same bobolink sames to be," he observed. "he says such amusin' things at times. only this same mornin' do ye know he asks me whether i could till him if that short tramp's hand had been hurted by a cut or a burrn. just as if that mattered to us at all, at all." paul did not say anything, but his eyebrows went up as though a sudden thought had struck him. whatever was in his mind he kept to himself. when they arrived at the marsh where tolly tip had several of his traps set he told his companions what he wanted them to do. under certain conditions they could approach with him and witness the process of taking out the victim, if fortune had been kind to the trapper. afterwards they would see how he reset the trap, and then backed away, removing every possible evidence of his presence. both scouts were deeply interested, though spider rather pitied the poor rats they took from the cruel jaws of the newhouse traps, and inwardly decided that after all he would never like to be a gatherer of pelts. later on tolly tip led them to the frozen creek, where they picked up a splendid mink and an otter as well. shrewd and sly though these little wearers of fur coats were, they had not been able to withstand the temptation of the bait the trapper had placed in their haunts, with the result that they paid the penalty of their greed with their lives. finally the trio reached the pond where the beaver lived. it was, of course, ice covered, but the conical mound in the middle interested the boys very much. paul took several pictures of it, with his two companions standing in the foreground, as positive evidence that the scouts had been on the spot. they also examined the strong dam which the cunning animals had constructed across the creek, so as to hold a certain depth of water. when the boys saw the girth of the trees the sharp teeth of the beavers had cut into lengths in order to form the dam, the scouts were amazed. "i'd give a lot to see them at work," declared paul. "if i get half a chance, tolly tip, i'm going to come up here next spring if you'll send me word when they're on the job. it would be well worth the trip on horseback from stanhope." upon arriving at the camp toward noon the boys and their guide found everything running smoothly, and a great deal accomplished. jud had not come back as yet, but several times distant shots had been heard, and the boys were indulging in high hopes of what jud would bring back. "you musn't forget though," paul warned these optimists, "that we're not the only pebbles on the beach. there are others in these woods, some of them with guns, and no mean hunters at that." "meaning the lawson crowd," remarked bobolink. "your statement is quite true, for i've seen hank do some mighty fine shooting in times past. he likes nothing so much as to wander around day after day in the fall, with a gun in his hands, just as old rip van winkle used to do." "yes," remarked jack, drily, "a gun in hand has served as an excuse for a _loaf_ in more ways than getting the family bread." "hey!" cried bluff, "there comes jud right now. and look what he's got, will you?" chapter xxi setting the flashlight trap "jud's holding up one measly rabbit, as sure as anything!" exclaimed bobolink, with a vein of scorn in his voice, as became the lord of the hunt, who on the preceding day had actually brought down a young buck, and thus provided the camp with a feast for supper. "we'd soon starve to death if we had to depend on poor old jud for our grub!" remarked tom betts, with a sad shake of his head. "all that waste of ammunition, and just a lone rabbit to show for it! they say successful hunters must be born, not made!" sandy griggs went on to say. other sarcastic remarks went the rounds, while jud just stood meekly, seeming to be very much downcast. "are you all through?" he finally asked, looking up with a grin. "because before you condemn me entirely as a poor stick of a hunter i want to ask bobolink here, and spider sexton to walk over to that low oak tree you can see back yonder, and fetch in what they find in the fork. i caved on the home stretch and dropped my load there." "good for you, jud!" exclaimed paul. "i suspected something of the kind when i saw the soiled condition of the game pockets in your hunting-coat, and noticed that a partridge feather was sticking to your hair. skip along, you two, and make amends for joshing jud so." of course bobolink and spider fairly ran, and soon came back carrying seven plump partridges between them, at sight of which a great cheer arose. like all fickle crowds, the boys now applauded jud just as strongly as they had previously sought to poke fun at him. "oh! i don't deserve much credit, boys," he told them. "these birds just tree after you scare them up, and make easy shots. if they flew off like bullets, as they do in some parts of the country, that would be a bag worth boasting of. but they'll taste mighty fine, all the same, let me tell you!" during the afternoon the scouts found many things to interest them. tolly tip, of course, had to take care of the pelts he had secured that day, and his manner of doing this interested some of the boys considerably. he had a great many thin boards of peculiar pattern to which the skins were to be attached after stretching, so that they would dry in this shape. "most skins ye notice are cut open an' cured that way," the old woodsman explained to his audience, as he worked deftly with his knife; "but some kinds are cased, bein' taken off whole, and turned inside out to dry." "i suppose you lay them near the fire, or out in the sun, to cure," remarked tom betts. "i know that's the way the indians dry the pemmican that they use in the winter for food." "pelts are niver cured that way," explained the trapper, "because it'd make thim shrink. we kape the stretcher boards wid the skins out in the open air, but in the shade where the sun don't come. whin they git to a certain stage it's proper to stack the same away in the cabin, kapin' a wary eye on 'em right along to prevint mould." all such things proved of considerable interest to the scouts, most of whom had very little practical knowledge along these lines. they were eager to pick up useful information wherever it could be found, and on that account asked numerous questions, all of which tolly tip seemed delighted to answer. so another nightfall found them, with everything moving along nicely. "guess your old barometer didn't hit it far wrong after all, paul," remarked sandy griggs, about the time supper was nearly ready, and the boys were going in and out of the cabin on different errands. "it has clouded up to be sure," said the scout-master, "and may snow at any time, though i hope it will hold off until to-morrow. i mean to set my camera trap to-night, you remember, with another comb of wild bee honey for a bear lure." "i heard tolly tip saying a bit ago," continued sandy, "that he didn't believe the storm would reach us for twelve hours or more. that would give you plenty of time to get your chance with old bruin, who loves honey so." "jud's promised to go out with me and help set the trap," paul remarked. "you know it's a walk of nearly a mile to the place, and these snowy woods are pretty lonely after the dark sets in." "if jud backs out because he's tired from his tramp this morning, paul, call on me, will you?" "bobolink said the same thing," laughed the scout-master, "so i'm sure not to be left in the lurch. no need of more than one going with me though, and i guess i can count on jud. it's hard to tire him." "wow! but those birds do smell good!" exclaimed sandy, as he sniffed the air. "and that oven of tolly tip's, in which he says he often bakes bread, seems to do the work all right. looks to me like one of the kind you get with a blue flame kerosene stove." "just what it is," paul told him. "but it works splendidly on a red coal fire, too. we're going to try some baking-powder biscuits to-morrow, bobolink says. he's tickled over finding the oven here." the partridges were done to a turn, and never had those hungry boys sat down to a better feast than several of their number had prepared for them that night. the old woodsman complimented bobolink, who was the chief cook. "i ralely thought i could cook," tolly tip said, "but 'tis mesilf as takes a back sate whin such a connysure is around. and biscuits is it ye mane to thry in the mornin'? i'll make it a pint to hang around long enough to take lissons, for i confiss that up till now i niver did have much success with thim things." again some of the scouts had to warn bobolink that he was in jeopardy of his life if he allowed his chest to swell up, as it seemed to be doing under such compliments. after that wonderful supper had been disposed of, paul busied himself with his camera, for he had several things to fix before it would be ready to serve as a trap to catch the picture of bruin in the act of stealing the honey bait. jud fondled his shotgun, having thoughtfully replaced the bird shells with a couple of shells containing buckshot that he had brought along in the hope of getting a deer. "no telling what we may run across when trapsing through the woods with a lantern after nightfall," he explained to phil towns, who was watching his operation with mild interest, not being a hunter himself. "what would you do if you came face to face with the bear, or perhaps a panther?" asked phil. "tolly tip said he saw one of the big cats last winter." "well, now, that's hardly a fair question," laughed jud. "i'm too modest a fellow to go around blowing my own horn; but the chances are i wouldn't _run_. and if both barrels of my gun went off the plagued beast might stand in the way of getting hurt. figure that out if you can, phil." after a little while paul arose to his feet and proceeded to light the lantern they had provided for the outing. "i'm ready if you are, jud," he remarked, and shortly afterwards the two left the cabin, tolly tip once more repeating the plain directions, so that there need be no fear that the boys would get lost in the snowy woods. paul was too wise a woodsman to be careless, and he took jud directly to the spot which the bear had visited the preceding night. "don't see anything of the creature around, do you?" asked jud, nervously handling his gun as he spoke. "not a sign as yet," replied paul. "but the chances are he'll remember the treat he found here last night, and come trotting along before many hours. that's what tolly tip told me, and he ought to know." "strikes me a bear is a pretty simple sort of an animal after all," chuckled jud. "he must think that honey rains down somehow, and never questions but that he'll find more where the first comb lay. tell me what to do, paul, and i'll be only too glad to help you." the camera was presently fixed just where paul had decided on his previous visit would be the best place. long experience had taught the lad just how to arrange it so that the animal of which he wished to get a flashlight picture would be compelled to approach along a certain avenue. when it attempted to take the bait the cord would be pulled, and the cartridge exploded, producing the flash required to take the picture. "there!" he said finally, after working for at least fifteen minutes, "everything is arranged to a dot, and we can start back home. if mr. bear comes nosing around here to-night, and starts to get that honeycomb, i reckon he'll hand me over something in return in the shape of a photograph." "here's hoping you'll get the best picture ever, paul!" said jud, earnestly, for he had been deeply impressed with the clever manner in which the photographer went about his duties. they had gone almost a third of the way over the back trail when a thrilling sound came to their ears almost directly in the path they were following. both boys came to a sudden halt, and as jud started to raise his gun he exclaimed: "unless i miss my guess, paul, that was one of the bobcats tolly tip told us about." chapter xxii waylaid in the timber "stand perfectly still, jud," cried paul, hastily, fearful that his impulsive companion might be tempted to do something careless. "but if he starts to jump at us i ought to try to riddle him, paul, don't you think?" pleaded the other, as he drew both hammers of his gun back. paul carried a camp hatchet, which he had made use of to fashion the approach to the trap. this he drew back menacingly, while gripping the lantern in his left hand. "of course, you can, if it comes to a fight, jud," he answered, "but the cat may not mean to attack us after all. they're most vicious when they have young kits near by, and this isn't the time of year for that." "huh! tolly tip told me there was an unusual lot of these fellows around here this season, and mighty bold at that," jud remarked, drily, as he searched the vicinity for some sign of a creeping form at which he could fire. "yes, i suppose the early coming of winter has made them extra hungry," admitted the scout-master; "though there seems to be plenty of game for them to catch in the way of rabbits, partridges and gray squirrels." "well, do we go on again, paul, or are you thinking of camping here for the rest of the night?" demanded jud, impatiently. "oh! we'll keep moving toward the home camp," jud was informed. "but watch out every second of the time. that chap may be lying in a crotch of a tree, meaning to drop down on us." a minute later, as they were moving slowly and cautiously along, jud gave utterance to a low hiss. "i see the rascal, paul!" he said excitedly. "wait a bit, jud," urged the other. "don't shoot without being dead sure. a wounded bobcat is nothing to be laughed at, and we may get some beauty scratches before we can finish him. tell me where you've glimpsed the beast." "look up to where i'm pointing with my gun, paul, and you can see two yellow balls shining like phosphorus. those are his eyes and if i aim right between them i'm bound to finish him." jud had hardly said this when there came a loud hoot, and the sound of winnowing wings reached them. at the same time the glowing, yellow spots suddenly vanished. "wow! what do you think of that for a fake?" growled jud in disgust. "it was only an old owl after all, staring down at us. but say, paul! that screech didn't come from him let me tell you; there's a cat around here somewhere." as if to prove jud spoke the truth there came just then another vicious snarl. "holy smoke! paul, did you hear that?" ejaculated jud, half turning. "comes from behind us now, and i really believe there must be a pair of the creatures stalking us on the way home!" "they usually hunt in couples," affirmed paul, not showing any signs of alarm, though he clutched the hatchet a little more firmly in his right hand, and turned his head quickly from side to side, as though desirous of covering all the territory possible. "would it pay us to move around in a half circle, and let them keep the old path?" asked jud, who could stand for one wildcat, but drew the line at a wholesale supply. "i don't believe it would make any difference," returned the scout-master. "if they're bent on giving us trouble any sign of weakness on our part would only encourage them." "what shall we do then?" "move right along and pay attention to our business," replied paul. "if we find that we've got to fight, try to make sure of one cat when you fire. the second rascal we may have to tackle with hatchet and clubbed gun. now walk ahead of me, so the light won't dazzle your eyes when i swing the lantern." the two scouts moved along slowly, always on the alert. paul kept the light going back and forth constantly, hoping that it might impress the bold bobcats with a sense of caution. most wild animals are afraid of fire, and as a rule there is no better protection for the pedestrian when passing through the lonely woods than to have a blazing torch in his hand, with lusty lungs to shout occasionally. "hold on!" exclaimed jud, after a short time had elapsed. "what do you see now, another owl?" asked paul, trying to make light of the situation, though truth to tell he felt a bit nervous. "this isn't any old owl, paul," asserted the boy with the gun. "besides the glaring eyes, i can see his body on that limb we must pass under. look yourself and tell me if that isn't his tail twitching back and forth?" "just what it is, jud. i've seen our tabby cat do that when crouching to spring on a sparrow. the beast is ready to jump as soon as we come within range. are you covering him, jud?" "dead center. trust me to damage his hide for him. shall i shoot?" "use only one barrel, mind, jud. you may need the other later on. now, if you're all ready, let go!" there was a loud bang as jud pulled the trigger. mingled with the report was a shrill scream of agony. then something came flying through the air from an entirely different quarter. "look out! the second cat!" yelled paul, striking savagely with his hatchet, which struck against a flying body, and hurled it backward in a heap. the furious wildcat instantly recovered, and again assailed the two boys standing on the defensive. jud had clubbed his gun, for at such close quarters he did not think he could shoot with any degree of accuracy. indeed, for some little time that beast kept both of them on the alert, and more than once sharp claws came in contact with the tough khaki garments worn by the scouts. after a third furious onslaught which ended in the cat's being knocked over by a lucky stroke from jud's gunstock, the animal seemed to conclude that the combat was too unequal. that last blow must have partly tamed its fiery spirit, for it jumped back out of sight, though they could still hear its savage snarling from some point near by. both lads were panting for breath. at the same time they felt flushed with victory. it was not every scout who could meet with such an adventure as this when in the snowy forest, and come out of it with credit. "if he only lets me get a glimpse of his old hide," ventured jud, grimly, "i'll riddle it for him, let me tell you! but say! i hope you don't mean to evacuate this gory battle-ground without taking a look to see whether i dropped that other beast or not?" "of course not, jud! i'm a little curious myself to see whether your aim was as good as you believe. let's move over that way, always keeping ready to repel boarders, remember. that second cat may get his wind, and come for us again." "i hope he will, that's what!" said jud, whose fighting blood was now up. "i dare him to tackle us again. nothing would please me better, paul." a dozen paces took them to the vicinity of the tree in which jud had sighted the crouching beast at which he had fired. "got him, all right, paul!" he hastened to call out, with a vein of triumph in his excited voice. "he fell in a heap, and considering that there were twelve buckshot in that shell, and every one hit him, it isn't to be wondered at." "a pretty big bobcat in the bargain, jud, and well worth boasting over. look at his long claws, and the sharp teeth back of those short lips. an ugly customer let me tell you. i'm glad we didn't have him on our shoulders, that's all." "i'm bound to drag the creature all the way to the cabin, to show the boys," announced the successful marksman. "now don't say anything against it, paul. you see i'll hold my gun under my arm ready, and at the first sign of trouble i'll let go of the game and be ready to shoot." "that's all right, jud, you're entitled to your trophy, though the skin is pretty well riddled with that big hole through it. still, tolly tip may be able to cure it so as to make a mat for your den at home. let's be moving." they could still hear that low and ominous growling and snarling. sometimes it came from one side, and then again switched around to the other, as the angry cat tried to find an avenue that would appear to be undefended. every step of the way home they felt they were being watched by a pair of fiery eyes. not for a second did either of the boys dream of abating their vigilance, for the sagacity of the wildcat would enable him to know when to make the attack. indeed, several times jud dropped his trailing burden and half raised his gun, as he imagined he detected a suspicious movement somewhere close by. they proved to be false alarms, however, and nothing occurred on the way home to disturb them. when not far from the cabin they heard loud voices, and caught the flicker of several blazing torches amidst the trees. "it's tolly tip and the boys," announced paul, as soon as he caught the sounds and saw the moving lights. "they must have heard the gunshot and our shouts, and are coming this way to find out what's the trouble." a few minutes later they saw half a dozen hurrying figures approaching, several carrying guns. as the anxious ones discovered paul and jud they sent out a series of whoops which the returning scouts answered. and when those who had come from the cabin saw the dead bobcat, as well as listened to the story of the attack, they were loud in their praises of the valor of the adventurous pair. chapter xxiii the blizzard "whew! but it's bitter cold this morning!" shouted sandy griggs, as he opened the cabin door and thrust his head out. "looks like a few flakes of snow shooting past, in the bargain," added bobolink. "that means that the long expected storm is upon us." paul turned to jack at hearing this, for both of them were hurriedly dressing after crawling out of their comfortable bunks. "a little snow isn't going to make us hedge on that arrangement we made the last thing before turning in, i hope, jack?" he asked, smilingly. "i should say not!" came the prompt reply. "besides, if it's going to put a foot or two of the feathery on the ground, it strikes me you've just got to get that expensive camera of yours again. i'm with you, paul, right after breakfast." tolly tip was also in somewhat of a hurry, wishing to make the round of his line of traps before the storm fully set in. so it came about that paul and his closest chum, after a cup of hot coffee and a meagre breakfast, hurried away from the cabin. "we can get another batch when we come back, if they save any for us, you know," the scout-master remarked, as they opened the door and passed out. "kape your bearin's, lads," called the old woodsman. "if so be the storm comes along with a boom it'll puzzle ye to be sure av yer way. and by the same token, to be adrift in thim woods with a howler blowin' for thray days isn't any fun." when the scouts once got started they found that the air was particularly keen. both of them were glad they had taken the precaution to cover up their ears, and wear their warmest mittens. "something seems to tell me we're in for a regular blizzard this time," jack remarked as they trudged manfully along, at times bowing their heads to the bitter wind that seemed to cut like a knife. "i wouldn't be a bit surprised if that turned out to be true," paul contented himself with saying. they did not exchange many words while breasting the gale, for it was the part of wisdom to keep their mouths closed as much as possible. paul had taken note of the way to the spot where the camera trap had been set in the hope of catching bruin in the act of taking the sweet bait. a number of times he turned around and looked back. this was because he had accustomed himself to viewing his surroundings at various angles, which is a wise thing for a scout to do. then when he tries to retrace his steps he will not find himself looking at a reverse picture that seems unfamiliar in his eyes. in the course of time the boys arrived at their destination. "don't see anything upset around here," observed paul, with a shade of growing disappointment in his voice; and then almost instantly adding in excitement: "but the bait's gone, all right--and yes! the cartridge has been fired. good enough!" "here you can see faint signs of the tracks of the bear under this new coating of snow!" declared jack, pointing down at his feet. paul, knowing that he would not go for his camera until after broad daylight, had managed to so arrange it, with a clever attachment of his own construction, that an exposure was made just at the second the cord firing the flashlight was drawn taut. it was a time exposure--the shutter remaining open for a score of seconds before automatically closing again. this was arranged so that pictures could be taken on moonlight nights as well as dark ones. he had tried it on several previous occasions, and with very good results. brushing the accumulated snow from his camera, he quickly had the precious article in his possession. "nothing else to keep us here, is there, paul?" asked jud. "no, and the sooner we strike a warm gait for the cabin the better," said the scout-master. "you notice, if anything, that wind is getting sharper right along, and the snow strikes you on the cheek like shot pellets, stinging furiously. so far as i'm concerned we can't make the camp any too soon." nevertheless, it might have been noticed that paul did not hurry, in the sense that he forgot to keep his wits about him. the warning given by tolly tip was still fresh in his ears, and even without it paul would hardly have allowed himself to become indiscreet or careless. jack, too, saw that they were following the exact line they had taken in coming out. as a scout he knew that the other did not get his bearings from any marks on the ground, such as might easily be obliterated by falling snow. trees formed the basis of paul's calculations. he particularly noticed every peculiarly shaped tree or growth upon the right side while going out, which would bring them on his left in returning. in this fashion the scout-master virtually blazed a path as he went; for those trees gave him his points just as well as though they represented so many gashes made with a hatchet. "i'm fairly wild to develop this film, and see whether the bear paid for his treat with a good picture," paul ventured to say when they were about half way to the camp. "do you know what i was thinking about just then?" asked jack. "something that had to do with other fellows, i'll be bound," replied the scout-master. "you were looking mighty serious, and i'd wager a cookey that you just remembered there were other fellows up here to be caught in the blizzard besides our crowd." jack laughed at hearing this. "you certainly seem to be a wizard, paul, to guess what was in my mind," he told his chum. "but it's just as you say. sim jeffreys told us the other day that they had come up with only a small amount of food along. if they've stayed around up to now they're apt to find themselves in a pretty bad pickle." "that's a fact, jack, if this storm keeps on for several days, and the snow happens to block all the paths out of the woods. let's hope they gave it up, and went back home again. we haven't seen a thing of them since then, you remember." jack shook his head. "you know how pig-headed hank lawson always is," he told his chum. "once he gets started in a thing, he hates everlastingly to give up. he came here to bother us, i feel sure, and a little thing like a shortage of provisions wouldn't force him to call the game off." "then it's your opinion, is it, jack, they're still in that hole among the rocks sim spoke of?" "chances are three to one it's that way," quickly replied jack. "they have guns, and could get some game that way, for they know how to hunt. then if it came to the worst perhaps hank would try to sneak around our cabin, hoping to find a chance to steal some of our supplies." a short time later they sighted the cabin through the now thickly falling snow, and both boys felt very glad to be able to get under shelter. tolly tip did not return until some hours had passed. by that time the snow carried by a furious wind that howled madly around the corners, was sweeping past the windows of the cabin like a cloud of dust. everybody was glad when the old woodsman arrived. he flung several prizes down on the floor, not having taken the time to detach the pelts. "'tis a screecher av a blizzard we're after havin' drop in on us, by the same token," he said, with quivering lips, as he stretched out his hands toward the cheerful blaze of the fire. being very eager to ascertain what measure of success had fallen to him with regard to the bear episode, paul proceeded to develop the film. when he rejoined the other boys in the front room some time later he was holding up the developed film, still dripping with water. "the best flashlight i ever got, let me tell you!" paul exclaimed. at this there was a cheer and a rush to see the film. there was the bear, looking very much astonished at the sudden brilliant illumination which must have seemed like a flash of lightning to him. all day long the storm howled, the snow drifted and scurried around the cabin. whenever the boys went for wood they had to be very careful lest they lose their way even in such a short distance, for it was impossible to see five feet ahead. when they went to bed that night the same conditions held good, and every one felt that they were in the grip of the greatest blizzard known for ten years. chapter xxiv the duty of the scout when two days had passed and the storm still raged, the scouts began to feel more anxious than ever. the snow continued to sweep past the cabin in blinding sheets. it was difficult to know whether all this came from above, or if some was snatched up from the ground and whirled about afresh. in some places enormous drifts abounded, while other more exposed spots had been actually swept bare by the wind. the scouts had not suffered in the least, save mentally. the cabin proved to be fairly warm, thanks to the great fire they kept going day and night; and they certainly had no reason to fear for any lack of provisions with which to satisfy their ever present appetites. still, from time to time, murmurs could be heard. "one thing sure!" sandy griggs was saying toward noon on this third day of the blizzard, "this storm is going to upset a whole lot of our plans." "knock 'em into a jiffy!" added bluff. "we'll never be able to skate down the creek to the lake, if it's covered with two feet of snow," sandy growled. "oh! for all we know," laughed paul, "this wind has been a good friend to us, and may keep the smooth ice clear of snow. we'd better not cry until we know the milk has really been spilled." "but any way," bluff continued, bound to find some cause for the gloomy feelings that clung like a wet blanket, "we'll never be able to run our iceboats back home. chances are we'll have to drag them most of the way." "all right, then," paul told him, "we'll make the best of a bad bargain. if you only look hard enough, bluff and sandy, you'll find the silver lining to every cloud. and no matter how the storm upsets some of our plans we ought to be thankful we've got such a snug shelter, and plenty of good things to eat--thanks to mr. garrity." "yes, that's what i just had in mind, paul," spoke up bobolink. "now, you all needn't begin to grin at me when i say that. i was thinking more about the fellows who may be shivering and hungry, than of our own well-fed crowd." "oh! the lawsons!" exclaimed bluff. "that's a fact. while we're having such a royal time of it here they may be up against it good and hard." perhaps all of the boys had from time to time allowed their thoughts to stray away, and mental pictures of the lawson crowd suffering from hunger and cold intruded upon their minds. they forgot whatever they chanced to be doing at that moment, and came around paul. "in one way it would serve them right if they did get a little rough experience," observed spider sexton, who perhaps had suffered more at the hands of the stanhope bully and his set than any of the other scouts. "oh, that sort of remark hardly becomes you, spider," paul reminded him. "if you remember some of the rules and regulations to which you subscribed when joining the organization you'll find that scouts have no business to feel bitter toward any one, especially when the fellows they look on as enemies may be suffering." "excuse me, paul, i guess i spoke without thinking," said spider, with due humility. "and to prove it i'm going to suggest that we figure out some way we might be of help to hank and his lot." "that's more like it, spider!" the scout-master exclaimed, as though pleased. "none of us fancy those fellows, because so far we've failed to make any impression on them. several times we've tried to make an advance, but they jeered at us, and seemed to think it was only fear on our part that made us try to throw a bridge across the chasm separating us. it's going to be different if, as we half believe, they're in serious trouble." "but paul, what could we do to help them?" demanded bluff. "with this storm raging to beat the band," added tom betts, "it would be as much as our lives were worth to venture out. why, you can't see ten feet away; and we'd be going around in a circle until the cold got us in the end." "hold on, fellows, don't jump at conclusions so fast," paul warned them. "i'd be the last one to advise going out into the woods with the storm keeping up. but tolly tip told me the snow stopped hours ago. what we see whirling around is only swept by the wind, for it's as dry as powder you know. and even the wind seems to be dying down now, and is blowing in spasms." "paul, you're right, as you nearly always are," jack affirmed, after he had pressed his nose against the cold glass of the little window. "and say! will you believe me when i say that i can see a small patch of blue sky up yonder--big enough to make a dutchmen's pair of breeches?" "hurrah! that settles the old blizzard then!" cried sandy griggs. "you all remember, don't you, the old saying, 'between eleven and two it'll tell you what it's going to do?' i've seen it work out lots of times." "yes," retorted jud, "and fail as often in the bargain. that's one of the exploded signs. when they come out right you believe in 'em, and when they miss, why you just forget all about it, and go on hoping. but in this case i reckon the old storm must have blown itself about out, and we can look for a week of cold, clear weather now." "we'll wait until after lunch," said paul, in his decided fashion that the boys knew so well; "then, if things brighten up, we'll see what we can do. those fellows must be suffering, more or less, and it's our duty to help them, no matter whether they bother to thank us or not." "scouts don't want thanks when they do their duty," said phil towns, grandly. "but i suppose you'll hardly pick me out as one of the rescue party, paul?" "i'd rather have the hardiest fellows along with me, phil," replied the scout-master, kindly; "though i'm glad to know you feel willing to serve. it counts just as much to _want_ to go, as to be allowed to be one of the number." bobolink especially showed great delight over the possibility of their setting out to relieve the enemy in distress. a dozen times he went to the door and passed out, under the plea that they might as well have plenty of wood in the cabin; but on every occasion upon his return he would report the progress of the clearing skies. "have the sun shining right away now, boys," he finally announced, with a beaming face. "and the wind's letting up, more or less. times are when you can see as far as a hundred feet. and say! it's a wonderful sight let me tell you." noon came and they sat down to the lunch that had been prepared for them, this time by frank and spider, bobolink having begged off. the sun was shining in a dazzling way upon the white-coated ground. it looked like fairyland the boys declared, though but little of the snow had remained on the oaks, beeches and other forest trees, owing to the furious and persistent wind. the hemlocks, however, were bending low with the weight that pressed upon their branches. some of the smaller ones looked like snow pyramids, and it was plain to be seen that during the remainder of the winter most of this snow was bound to hang on. "if we only had a few pairs of snow-shoes like tolly tip's here," suggested bobolink, enthusiastically, "we might skim along over ten-foot drifts, and never bother about things." "yes," jud told him, a bit sarcastically, "if we knew just how to manage the bally things, we might. but it isn't so easy as you think. most of us would soon be taking headers, and finding ourselves upside down. it's a trick that has to be learned; and some fellows never can get the hang, i've been told." "well, there's no need of our talking about it," interposed paul, "because there's only one pair of snow-shoes in the cabin, and all of us can't wear those. but tolly tip says we're apt to find avenues swept in the snow by the wind, where we can walk for the most part on clear ground, with but few drifts to wade through." "it may make a longer journey av the same," the old woodsman explained; "but if luck favors us we'll git there in due time, i belave, if so be ye settle on goin'." nothing could hold the scouts back, it seemed. this idea of setting forth to succor an enemy in distress had taken a firm hold upon their imaginations. besides, those days when they were shut up in the storm-besieged cabin had been fearfully long to their active spirits, and on this account, too, they welcomed the chance to do something. there could no longer be any doubt that the storm had blown itself out, for the sky was rapidly clearing. the air remained bitter cold, and paul advised those whom he selected to accompany him to wrap themselves up with additional care, for he did not wish to have them take the chance of frosting their toes and their noses. those who were fortunate enough to be drafted for the trip were jack, jud, bobolink and tom betts. some of the others felt slighted, but tried to be as cheerful over their disappointment as possible. of course, tolly tip was to accompany them, for he would not have allowed the boys to set out without his guidance, under such changed and really hazardous conditions. a trained woodsman would be necessary in order to insure the boys against possible disaster in the storm-bound forest. well bundled up, and bearing packs on their backs consisting in the main of provisions, the six started off, followed by the cheers and good wishes of their comrades, and were soon lost to view amidst the white aisles of the forest. chapter xxv among the snowdrifts "this is hard work after all, let me own up!" announced jud elderkin, after they had been pushing on for nearly half an hour. "to tell you the truth," admitted tom betts, "we've turned this way and that so often now i don't know whether we're heading straight." "trust tolly tip for that," urged paul. "and besides, if you'd taken your bearings as you should have done when starting, you could tell from the position of the sun that right now we're going straight toward that far-off hill." "good for ye, paul!" commented the guide, who was deeply interested in finding out just how much woods lore these scouts had picked up during their many camp experiences. "well, here's where we're up against it good and hard," observed bobolink. the clear space they had been following came to an abrupt end, and before them lay a great drift of snow, at least five or six feet deep. "do we try to flounder through this, or turn around and try another way?" asked jud, looking as though, if the decision rested with him, he would only too gladly attack the heap of snow. before deciding, tolly tip climbed into the fork of a tree. from this point of vantage he was able to see beyond the drift. he dropped down presently with a grin on his face. "it's clear ag'in beyant the hape av snow; so we'd better try to butt through the same," he told them. "let me go first, and start a path. whin i play out one av the rist av ye may take the lead. come along, boys." the relief party plunged into the great drift with merry shouts, being filled with the enthusiasm of abounding youth. the big woodsman kept on until even he began to tire of the work; or else guessed that jud was eager to take his place. in time they had passed beyond the obstacle, and again found themselves traversing a windswept avenue that led in the general direction they wished to go. a short time afterwards jud uttered a shout. "hold on a minute, fellows!" he called out. "what ails you now, jud--got a cramp in your leg, or do you think it's time we stopped for a bite of lunch?" demanded bobolink. "here's the plain track of a deer," answered jud, pointing down as he spoke. "and it was made only a short time ago you can see, because while the wind blows the snow some every little while, it hasn't filled the track." "that's good scout logic, jud," affirmed paul; and even the old woodsman nodded his head as though he liked to hear the boy think things out so cleverly. "here it turns into this blind path," continued jud, "which i'd like to wager ends before long in a big drift. like as not if we chose to follow, we'd find mr. stag wallowing in the deepest kind of snow, and making an easy mark." "well, we can't turn aside just now, to hunt a poor deer that is having a hard enough time of it keeping life in his body," said tom betts, aggressively. "no, we'll let the poor beast have his chance to get away," said the scout-master. "we've started out on a definite errand, and mustn't allow ourselves to be drawn aside. so put your best foot forward again, jud." jud looked a little loth to give up the chance to get the deer, a thing he had really set his mind on. however, there would still be plenty of time to accomplish this, and equal bobolink's feat, whereby the other had been able to procure fresh venison for the camp. "how far along do you think we are, tolly tip?" asked tom betts, after more time had passed, and they began to feel the result of their struggle. "more'n half way there, i'd be sayin'," the other replied. "though it do same as if the drifts might be gittin' heavier the closer we draw to the hill. av ye fale tired mebbe we'd better rist up a bit." "what, me tired!" exclaimed tom, disdainfully, at the same time putting new life in his movements. "why, i've hardly begun to get started so far. huh! i'm good for all day at this sort of work, i'm so fond of ploughing through the snow." the forest seemed very solemn and silent. doubtless nearly all of the little woods folk found themselves buried under the heavy fall of snow, and it would take time for them to tunnel out. "listen to the crows cawing as they fly overhead," said jud, presently. "they're gathering in a big flock over there somewhere," remarked paul. "they're having what they call a crow caucus," explained jack. "they do say that the birds carry on in the queerest way, just as if they were holding court to try one of their number that had done something criminal." "more likely they're getting together to figure it out where they can find the next meal," suggested bobolink, sensibly. "this snow must have covered up pretty nearly everything. but at the worst they can emigrate to the south--can get to virginia, where the climate isn't so severe." as they pushed their way onward the boys indulged in other discussions along such lines as this. they were wideawake, and observed every little thing that occurred around them, and as these often pertained to the science of woodcraft which they delighted to study, they found many opportunities to give forth their opinions. "we ought to be getting pretty near that old hill, seems to me," observed tom, when another hour had dragged by. then he quickly added: "not that i care much, you know, only the sooner we see if hank and his cronies are in want the better it'll be." "there it is right now, dead ahead of us!" exclaimed jud, who had a pair of wonderfully keen eyes. through an opening among the trees they could all see the hill beyond, although it was so covered with snow that its outlines seemed shadowy, and it was little wonder none of them had noticed it before. "not more'n a quarter of a mile off, i should say," declared tom betts, unable to hide fully the sense of pleasure the discovery gave him. "but all the same we'll have a pretty tough time making it," remarked jud. "it strikes me the snow is deeper right here than in any place yet, and the paths fewer in number." "how is that, tolly tip?" asked bobolink. "ye say, the hill shunted off some av the wind," explained the other without any hesitation; "and so the snow could drop to the ground without bein' blown about so wild like. 'tis a fine blanket lies ahead av us, and we'll have to do some harrd wadin' to make our way through the same." "hit her up!" cried tom, valiantly. "who cares for such a little thing as snow piles?" they floundered along as best they could. it turned out to be anything but child's play, and tested their muscular abilities from time to time. in vain they looked about them as they drew near the hill; there was not a single trace of any one moving around. some of the scouts began to feel very queerly as they stared furtively at the snow covered elevation. it reminded them of a white tomb, for somewhere underneath it they feared the four boys from stanhope might be buried, too weak to dig their way out. tolly tip led them on with unerring fidelity. "how does it come, tolly tip," asked the curious jud as they toiled onward, "that you remember this hole in the rocks so well?" "that's an aisy question to answer," replied the other, with one of his smiles. "sure 'twas some years ago that i do be having a nate little ruction with the only bear i iver kilt in this section. he was a rouser in the bargain, i'd be after tillin' ye. i had crawled into the rift in the rocks to say where it lid whin i found mesilf up aginst it." "oh! in that case i can see that you would be apt to remember the hole in the rocks always," commented jud. "a fellow is apt to see that kind of thing many a time in his dreams. so those fellows happened on the old bear den, did they?" "we're clost up to the same now, i'm plazed to till ye," announced the guide. "if ye cast an eye beyont ye'll mebbe notice that spur av rock that stands out like a ploughshare. jist behind the same we'll strike the crack in the rocks, and like as not find it filled to the brim wid the snow." when the five scouts and their guide stood alongside the spur of rock, looking down into the cavity now hidden by ten feet of snow, they were somehow forced to turn uneasy faces toward one another. it was deathly still there, and not a sign could they see to indicate that under the shroud of snow the four stanhope boys might be imprisoned, almost dead with cold and hunger. chapter xxvi dug out the boys realized that they had heavy work before them if they hoped to dig a way down through that mass of snow and reach the cleft in the rocks. "just mark out where we have to get busy, tolly tip," called out bobolink, after they had put aside their packs, and primed themselves for work, "and see how we can dig." "i speak for first turn with the snow shovel!" cried jud. "it'll bring a new set of muscles into play, for one thing, and that means relief. i own up that my legs feel pretty well tuckered out." the woodsman, however, chose to begin the work himself. after taking his bearings carefully, he began to dig the snow shovel deep down, and cast the loosely packed stuff aside. in order to reach the cleft in the rocks they would have to cut a tunnel through possibly twenty feet or more of snow. so impatient was jud to take a hand that he soon begged the guide to let him have a turn at the work. tolly tip prowled around, and some of the boys wondered what he could be doing until he came back presently with great news. "'tis smoke i do be after smellin' beyant there!" he told them. "smoke!" exclaimed bobolink, staring up the side of the white hill. "how can that be when there isn't the first sign of a fire?" "you don't catch on to the idea, bobolink," explained paul. "he means that those in the cave must have some sort of fire going, and the smoke finds its way out through some small crevices that lie under a thin blanket of snow. am i right there, tolly tip?" "ye sure hit the nail on the head, paul," he was told by the guide. "well, that's good news," admitted bobolink, with a look of relief on his face. "if they've got enough wood to keep even a small fire going, they won't be found frozen to death anyhow." "and," continued jud, who had given the shovel over to jack, "it takes some days to really starve a fellow, i understand. you see i've been reading lately about the adventures of the dr. kane exploring company up in the frozen arctic regions. when it got to the worst they staved off starvation by making soup of their boots." "but you mustn't forget," interposed bobolink, "that their boots were made of skins, and not of the tough leather we use these days. i'd like to see hank lawson gnawing on one of _his_ old hide shoes, that's what! it couldn't be done, any way you fix it." the hole grew by degrees, but very slowly. it seemed as though tons and tons of snow must have been swept over the crest of the hill, to settle down in every cavity it could find. "we're getting there, all right!" declared bobolink, after he had taken his turn, and in turn handed over the shovel to paul. "oh! the fourth of july is coming too, never fear!" jeered jud, who was in a grumbling mood. "why, tolly tip here says we've made good progress already," tom betts declared, merely to combat the spirit manifested by jud, "and that we'll soon be half-way through the pile. if it were three times as big we'd get there in the end, because this is a never-say-die bunch of scouts, you bet!" "oh! i was only fooling," chuckled jud, feeling ashamed of his grumbling. "of course, we'll manage it, by hook or by crook. show me the time the banner boy scouts ever failed, will you, when they'd set their minds on doing anything worth while? we're bound to get there." the work went on. by turns the members of the relief party applied themselves to the task of cutting a way through the snow heap, and when each had come up for the third time it became apparent that they were near the end of their labor, for signs of the rock began to appear. inspired by this fact they took on additional energy, and the way the snow flew under the vigorous attack of jud was pretty good evidence that he still believed in their ultimate success. "now watch my smoke!" remarked tom betts, as he took the shovel in his turn and proceeded to show them what he could do. "i've made up my mind to keep everlastingly at it till i strike solid rock. and i'll do it, or burst the boiler." he had hardly spoken when they heard the plunging metal shovel strike something that gave out a positive "chink," and somehow that sound seemed to spell success. "guess you've gone and done it, tom!" declared jud, with something like a touch of chagrin in his voice, for jud had been hoping he would be the lucky one to show the first results. there was no slackening of their ardor, and the boys continued to shovel the snow out of the hole at a prodigious rate until every one could easily see the crevice in the rocks. "listen!" exclaimed jud just then. "oh! what do you think you heard?" asked bobolink. "i don't know whether it was the shovel scraping over the rock or a human groan," jud continued, looking unusually serious. they all listened, but could hear nothing except the cold wind sighing through some of the trees not far away. "let me finish the work for you, tom," suggested paul, seeing that tom betts was pretty well exhausted from his labors. "i guess i will, paul, because i'm nearly tuckered out," admitted the persistent worker, as he handed the implement over, and pushed back, though still remaining in the hole. paul was not very long in clearing away the last of the snow that clogged the entrance to the old bears' den. they could then mark the line of the gaping hole that cleft the rock, and which served as an antechamber to the cavity that lay beyond. "that does it, paul," said jack, softly; though just why he spoke half under his breath he could not have explained if he had been asked, except that, somehow, it seemed as though they were very close to some sort of tragedy. the shovel was put aside. it had done its part of the work, and could rest. and everybody prepared to follow paul as he pushed after the guide into the crevice leading to the cave. the smell of wood smoke was now very strong, and all of them could catch it. so long as the entrapped boys had a fire there was no fear that they would perish from the cold. moreover, down under the rocks and the snow the atmosphere could hardly be anything as severe as in the open. indeed paul had been in many caves where the temperature remained about the same day in and day out, through the whole year. coming from the bewildering and dazzling snow fields it was little wonder that none of them could see plainly at the moment they started into the bears' den. by degrees, as their eyes became accustomed to the semi-darkness that held sway below, they would be able to distinguish objects, and make discoveries. stronger grew the pungent odor of smoke. it was not unpleasant at all, and to some of the scouts most welcome, bearing as it did a message of hope, and the assurance that things had not yet come to the last stretch. half turning as he groped his way onward, the guide pointed to something ahead--at least paul who came next in line fancied that tolly tip was trying to draw his attention to that quarter. in turn he performed the same office for the next boy, and thus the intelligence was passed along the line, from hand to hand. they could, by straining their eyes, discover some half huddled figures just beyond. a faint light showed where the dying fire lay; and even as they looked one of the partly seen figures was seen to stir, and after this they noticed that a little flame had started up. paul believed that the very last stick of wood was on the fire and nearing the end. bobolink could not help giving a low cry of commiseration. the sound must have been heard by those who were huddled around the miserable fire, for they scrambled to their knees. as the tiny blaze sprang up just then, it showed the scouts the four stanhope boys looking pinched and wan, with their eyes staring the wonder they must have felt at sight of the newcomers. hank was seen to jab his knuckles into his eyes as though unable fully to believe what he beheld. then he held out both hands beseechingly toward the newcomers. they would never be able to forget the genuine pain contained in his voice as he half groaned: "oh! have you come to save us? give us somethin' to eat, won't you? we're starvin', starvin', i tell you!" chapter xxvii "first aid" possibly the case was not quite as bad as hank declared, but for all that those four lads were certainly in a bad way. paul took charge of affairs at once, as became the acting scout-master of the troop. "it's a good thing we thought to pick up some wood as we came along," he remarked. "fetch it in, boys, and get this fire going the first thing. then we'll make a pot of coffee to begin with." "coffee!" echoed the four late prisoners of the cave. "oh, my stars! why! we went and forgot to bring any along with us. coffee! that sounds good to us!" "that's only a beginning," said bobolink, as he came back with his arms filled with sticks, which he began to lay upon the almost dead fire. "we've got ham and biscuits, boston baked beans, potatoes, corn, grits, and lots of other things. just give us a little time to do some cooking, and you'll get all you can cram down." paul knew the hungry boys would suffer all sorts of tortures while waiting for the meal to be cooked. on this account he saw that they were given some crackers and cheese, to take the keen edge of their voracious appetites off. it was a strange spectacle in that hole amidst the rocks, with the fire leaping up, bobolink bending over it doing the cooking with his customary vim, the rest of the scouts gathered around, and those four wretched fellows munching away for dear life, as they sniffed the coffee beginning to scent the air with its fragrance. as soon as this was ready paul poured out some, added condensed milk, and handed the tin cup to hank. he was really surprised to see the rough fellow turn immediately and give it to sid jeffreys and hear him say: "i reckon you need it the wust, sid; git the stuff inside in a hurry." then paul remembered that sid had recently been injured. and somehow he began to understand that even such a hardened case as hank lawson, in whom no one seemed ready to place any trust, might have a small, tender spot in his heart. he could not be _all_ bad, paul decided. hank, however, did not refuse to accept the second cup, and hastily drain it. apparently, he believed the leader should have first choice, and meant to impress this fact upon his satellites. what to do about the four boys had puzzled paul a little. to allow them to accompany him and his chums back to deer head lodge would make the remainder of their outing a very disagreeable affair. besides, there was really no room for any more guests under that hospitable roof; and certainly tolly tip would not feel in the humor to invite them. so paul had to figure it out in some other way. while hank and his three cronies were eating savagely, bobolink having finished preparing the odd meal for them, paul took occasion to sound the one who occupied the position of chief. "we've brought over enough grub to last you four a week," he started in to say, when hank interrupted him. "we sure think you're white this time, paul morrison, an' i ain't a-goin' to hold back in sayin' so either, just 'cause we've been scrappin' with your crowd right along. guess you know that we come up here partly to bother you fellers. i'm right glad we ain't had a chance to play any tricks on you up to now. an' b'lieve me! it's goin' to be a long time 'fore we'll forgit this thing." paul was, of course, well pleased to hear this. he feared, however, that in a month from that time hank was apt to forget the obligations he owed the scouts, and likely enough would commence to annoy them again. "the question that bothers me just now," paul continued, "is what you ought to do. i don't suppose any of you care to stay up here much longer, now that this blizzard has spoiled all of the fun of camping out?" "i've had about all i want of the game," admitted jud mabley, promptly. "count me in too," added sim jeffreys. "i feel pretty sick of the whole business, and we can't get back home any too soon to suit me." "same here," muttered bud phillips, who had kept looking at paul for some time in a furtive way, as though he had something on his mind that he was strongly tempted to communicate to the scout leader. "so you see that settles it," grinned hank. "even if i wanted to hang out here all the rest o' the holidays, three agin one is most too much. we'd be havin' all sorts o' rows every day. yep, we'll start fur home the fust chance we git." that pleased paul, and was what he had hoped to hear. "of course," he went on to say to hank, "it's a whole lot shorter cutting across country to stanhope than going around by way of lake tokala and the old canal that leads from the radway into the bushkill river; but you want to be mighty careful of your compass points, or you might get lost." "sure thing, paul," remarked the other, confidently; "but that's my long suit, you ought to know. never yet did git lost, an' i reckon i ain't a-goin' to do it now. i'll lay it all out and make the riffle, don't you worry about that same." "we came over that way, you know," interrupted jud mabley, "and left blazes on the trees in places where we thought we might take the wrong trail goin' back." "that was a wise thing to do," said paul, "and shows that some of you ought to be in the scout movement, for you've got it in you to make good." "tried it once you 'member, paul, but your crowd didn't want anything to do wi' me, so i cut it out," grumbled jud, though he could not help looking pleased at being complimented on the woodcraft of their crowd by such an authority as the scout-master. paul turned from jud and looked straight into the face of the leader. "hank," he said earnestly, "you know just as well as i do that jud was blackballed not because we didn't believe he had it in him to make an excellent scout, but for another reason. excuse me if i'm blunt about it, but i mean it just as much for your good as i did bringing this food all the way over here to help you out. every one of you has it in him to make a good scout, if only he would change certain ways he now has." hank looked down at his feet, and remained silent for a brief time, during which he doubtless was having something of an inward fight. "all right, paul," he suddenly remarked, looking up again grimly. "i ain't a-goin' to git mad 'cause you speak so plain. if you fellers'd go to all the trouble to fight your way over here, and fetch us this food, i reckon as how i've been readin' you the wrong way." "you have, hank! you certainly have!" affirmed bobolink, who was greatly interested in this effort on the part of paul to bring about a change in the boys who had taken such malicious delight in annoying the scouts whenever the opportunity arose. "believe this, hank," said paul earnestly; "if you only chose to change your ways, none of you would be blackballed the next time you tried to join the organization. there's no earthly reason why all of you shouldn't be accepted as candidates if only you can subscribe to the iron-bound rules we work under, and which every one of us has to obey. think it over, won't you, boys? it might pay you." "reckon we will, paul," muttered hank, though he shook his head at the same time a little doubtfully, as though deep down in his heart he feared they could never overcome the feeling of prejudice that had grown up against them in stanhope. "i wouldn't be in too big a hurry to start back home," continued paul, thinking he had already said enough to fulfill his duty as a scout. "in another day or so it's likely to warm up a bit, and you'll find it more comfortable on the way." "just what i was thinkin' myself, paul," agreed hank. "we've got stacks of grub now, thanks to you and your crowd, and we c'n git enough wood in places, now you've opened our dooryard fur us. yep, we'll hang out till it feels some warmer, and then cut sticks fur home." "here's a rough map i made out that may be useful to you, hank," continued the scout-master, "if you happen to lose your blazed trail. tolly tip helped me get it up, and as he's been across to stanhope many times he ought to know every foot of the way." "it might come in handy, an' i'll take the same with thanks, paul," hank observed, with all his customary aggressive ways lacking. there is nothing so well calculated to take the spirit out of a boy as acute hunger. when they had talked for some little time longer, paul decided that it was time for him and his chums to start back to the cabin. those afternoons in late december were very short, and night would be down upon them almost before they knew it. it was just then that bud phillips seemed to have made up his mind to say something that had been on the tip of his tongue ever since he realized under what great obligations the scouts had placed him and his partners. "seems like i oughtn't to let you get away from here, paul, without tellin' somethin' that i reckon might be interestin' to you all," he went on to say. "all right, bud, we'll be glad to hear it," the scout-master observed, with a smile, "though for the life of me i can't guess what it's all about." "go ahead bud, and dish it out!" urged bobolink, impatiently. chapter xxviii more startling news bud phillips looked somewhat confused. apparently, he did not figure any too well in what he felt it his duty to confess to paul and his chums. "i'm ashamed that i kept mum about it when the old man accused some of you fellers of startin' the fire, an' gettin' at his tight wad," he went on to say; and it can be easily understood that this beginning gave paul a start. "oh! it's about that ugly business, is it?" the scout-master remarked, frowning a little, for, naturally, he instantly conceived the idea that hank and his three reckless cronies must have had a hand in that outrage. that hank guessed what was flitting through the other's mind was plainly indicated by the haste with which he cried out: "don't git it in your head we had anything to do with that fire, paul, nor yet with tappin' the old man's safe. i know we ain't got any too good reputations 'round stanhope, but it's to be hoped we ain't dropped so low as that. skip along, bud, an' tell what you saw." "why, it's this way," continued the narrator, eagerly. "i chanced to be johnny-on-the-spot that night, being 'mong the first to arrive when old briggs started to scream that his store was afire. never mind how it came that way. and paul, i saw two figures a-runnin' away right when i came up, runnin' like they might be afraid o' bein' seen an' grabbed." "were they close enough for you to notice who they were?" asked paul, taking a deep interest in the narration, since he and his chums had been accused of doing the deed in the presence of many of stanhope's good people. "oh! i saw 'em lookin' back as they hurried away," admitted bud. "and, paul, they were those same two tramps we had the trouble with that day. you remember we ran the pair out o' town, bombardin' 'em with rocks." paul could plainly see the happening in his memory, with the two hoboes turning when at a safe distance to shake their fists at the boys. evidently their rough reception all around had caused them to have a bitter feeling toward the citizens of stanhope, and they had come back later on to have their revenge. "now that i think of it," paul went on to say, "they had just come out of the store when you ran afoul of the pair. the chances are that mr. briggs treated them as sourly as he does all their class, and they were furiously mad at him." "yes," added bobolink, "and while in there they must have noticed where he had his safe. maybe they saw him putting money in it." "i'm glad you told me this, bud," the scout-master confessed, "because it goes part way to clear up the mystery of that fire and robbery." "bud was meanin' to tell all about it when we got back," said hank. "he kept still because he heard briggs accuse you scouts of the fire racket, and bud just then thought it too good a joke to spoil. but we've been talkin' it over, and come to the conclusion we owed it to the community to set 'em right." this sounded rather lofty, but paul guessed that there must be another reason back of the determination to tell. these fellows had decided that possibly suspicion might be directed toward them, and, as they had had enough trouble already without taking more on their shoulders, it would be the part of wisdom to start the ball rolling in the right quarter. "well, we must be going," said paul. "do you reckon on stayin' out your time up here?" queried hank. "we haven't decided that yet," replied the scout-master; "but the chances are we shall conclude to cut the trip short and get back home. this heavy snow has spoiled a good many plans we'd laid out; and we might be having a better time of it with the rest of the fellows at home. we're going to talk it over and by to-morrow settle on our plans." "here's where we get busy and start on the return hike," announced tom betts, just as cheerily as though he were not already feeling the effects of that stiff plunge through the deep snowdrifts, and secretly faced the return trip with more or less apprehension. hank and his followers came out of their den to wave a hearty farewell after their late rescuers. just then all animosities had died in their hearts, and they could look upon the scouts without the least bitterness. "sounds all mighty fine, i must say," remarked bobolink, as they pushed along, after losing sight of the quartette standing at the foot of the snowy hill, "but somehow i don't seem to feel it's going to last. that hank's got it in him to be a tough character, and it'd be next door to a miracle if he ever changed his ways." "do _you_ think he will, paul?" demanded jud, flatly. "ask me something easy," laughed the scout-master. "it all depends on hank himself. if he once took a notion to make a man of himself, i believe he could do it no matter what happened. he's got the grit, but without the real desire that isn't going to count for much. time alone will tell." "well, we've seen something like that happen right in our town, you know," bobolink went on to say, reflectively, as he trudged along close to the heels of the one in front of him, for they were going "indian-file," following the sinuous trail made during their preceding trip. "i was talking with the other jud," remarked jud elderkin just then, "and he gave me a pointer that might be worth something. i don't know just why he chose to confide it to me, instead of speaking out, but he did." "was it, too, about the fire and the robbery?" asked tom betts. "it amounted to the same thing, i should say," replied jud, "because it was connected with the hoboes." "go on and tell us then," urged bobolink. "he says they're up in this part of the country," asserted the other. "wow! that begins to look as if we might be running across the ugly pair after all!" exclaimed tom betts, his face lighting up with eagerness. "now wouldn't it be queer if we managed to capture the yeggs and turn 'em over to the authorities? paul, how about that now?" "oh! you're getting too far ahead of the game, tom," he was told. "we must know a good deal more about this business before we could decide to take such desperate chances." "but if the opportunity came along, wouldn't it be our duty to cage the rascals?" the persistent tom demanded. "perhaps it might," paul told him. "but jud, did he explain to you how he came to know the tramps were up here in the woods above lake tokala?" "just what he did," replied the other, promptly. "it seems that jud, while he was out hunting, had a glimpse of one of the ugly pair the day before this storm hit us. it gave him a chance to trail the man in order to see what he was worth in that line. and, paul, he did his work so well that he followed the fellow all the way to where the two of them had put up." "and that was where, jud?" demanded the leader of the troop. "there's an old dilapidated cabin half-way between here and the lake," explained jud. "maybe tolly tip knows about it." "sure that i do!" responded the woodsman. "'twas used years ago by some charcoal burners, but has been goin' to decay this long time. mebbe now they've patched up the broken roof, and mane to stay there awhile. it's in a snug spot, and mighty well protected from the wind in winters." "that's the place," jud assured them. "the hoboes are hanging out there, and seem to have plenty to eat, so jud mabley told me. if we concluded to take a look in at 'em on our way home it could be done easy enough, i'd think." "we'll talk it over," decided paul. "we must remember that in all likelihood they're a desperate pair, and well armed. as a rule scouts have no business to constitute themselves criminal catchers, though in this case it's a bit different." "because we've been publicly accused by mr. briggs of being the persons who set his old store on fire, just in spite!" declared bobolink, briskly enough. "and say! wouldn't it be a bully trick if we could take those two tramps back with us, having the goods on them? then we'd say to mr. briggs: 'there you are, sir! these are the men you want! and we'd trouble you to make your apology just as public as your hasty accusation was.'" "hurrah!" cried tom betts. "that's the ticket." but paul was not to be hurried into giving a decision. he wanted more time to consider matters, and settle his plan of campaign. the other scouts, however, found little reason to doubt that in the end he would conclude to look favorably on the bold proposition jud had advanced. just as they had anticipated, the return journey was not anywhere nearly so strenuous an undertaking as the outward tramp had been. even where they had to cross great drifts a passage had been broken for them, and the wind, not being high, had failed to fill up the gaps thus far. the rescue party arrived in the vicinity of the cabin long before sundown, and could catch whiffs of the wood smoke that blew their way, which gave promise of the delightful warmth they would find once inside the forest retreat. chapter xxix the wild dog pack "well! well! what under the sun's been going on here while we've been away?" bobolink burst out with this exclamation the very minute he passed hastily in at the cabin door. a jolly fire blazed on the hearth, and the interior of the cabin was well lighted by the flames. paul, as well as all the other arrivals, stared. and well they might, for sandy griggs and bluff were swathed in seemingly innumerable bandages. they looked a bit sheepish too, even while grinning amiably. "oh! 'tisn't as bad as it seems, fellows!" sang out spider sexton, cheerfully. "phil thought it best to wash every scratch with that stuff we keep for such things, so as to avoid any danger of blood poisoning. but shucks! they got off pretty easy, let me tell you." "what happened?" demanded jud elderkin, curiously. "did they run across that old bear after all, and get scratched or bitten?" "or was it the other bobcat that came around to smell the pelt of his mate, and gave you something of a tussle?" asked bobolink. "both away off your base," said bluff, with a fresh grin. "it was dogs, that's all." "dogs!" echoed jud, unbelievingly. "you must mean wolves, don't you? they look a heap like some kinds of mongrel dogs." "'tis the lad as knows what he is talkin' about, i guess," remarked tolly tip just then. "sure, for these many moons now there's been a pack av thim wild dogs a-runnin' through the woods. many a night have i listened to the same bayin' and yappin' as they trailed after a deer." a flash of understanding came into jud's face. "oh! now i see what you mean," he went on to say. "wild dogs they were, that for some reason have abandoned their homes with people, and gone back to the old free hunting ways of their ancestors. i've heard about such things. but say! how did it happen they tackled you two?" bluff and his guilty companion exchanged looks, and as he scratched his head the former went on to confess. "why, you see, it was this way," he began. "sandy and i began to get awful tired of staying indoors after you fellows went away. three days of it was just too much for our active natures to stand. so we made up a plan to take a little walk around, and see if we could run across any game." at that sandy held up a couple of partridges. "all we got, and all we saw," he remarked, "but they were enough to set that savage bunch of wild dogs on us. whew! but they were hungry and reckless. but you go on and tell the story, bluff." "when we saw them heading our way," continued the other, "we thought they were just ordinary dogs running loose. but as they came closer both of us began to see that they were a savage looking lot. in the lead was a big mastiff that looked like a lion to us." "but you had your guns with you, didn't you?" asked jud. "that's right, we did," replied bluff. "but you see before we made up our minds the kiyi crowd was dangerous they were nearly on us, yelping and snapping like everything. that big chap in the lead gave me a shiver just to look at him; and there were three others coming full-tilt close behind him." "we've since made up our minds," again interrupted sandy, "that they must have scented our birds, and were crazy to get them. though even if we'd thrown the partridges away i believe the pack would have attacked us like so many tigers." "at the very last," bluff went on, "i knew we ought to be doing something. so i yelled out to sandy who had the shotgun to pepper that big mastiff before he could jump us, and that i'd take care of the next creature." "well, i tried to do it," sandy affirmed, "but my first shot went wild, because bluff here knocked my elbow just when i pulled the trigger. but i had better luck with the second barrel, for i brought one of the other dogs down flat on his back, kicking his last." "i'd shot a second creature meanwhile," said bluff; "and then the other two were on us. whew! but we did have a warm session of it about that time, let me tell you, fellows! it was at close quarters, so i couldn't use my gun again to shoot; but we swung the weapons around our heads as though they were clubs." "i made a lucky crack," declared sandy, "and bowled the smaller cur over, but he was up like a flash and at me again, scratching and biting like a mad wolf. i never would have believed family pets could go back to the wild state again like that if i hadn't seen it with my own eyes." "i suppose the big beast tackled you then, did he, bluff?" asked jack. "you just b-b-bet he did!" exclaimed the other, excitedly. "and s-s-say, i had all i could do to k-k-keep him from knocking me over in a h-h-heap. lots of t-t-times i cracked him with the b-b-butt of my rifle, and staggered him, but he only c-came at me again full tilt. oh! but we had a g-g-glorious time of it i tell you!" "and how did it end?" queried jud. "since we find you two here right-side-up-with-care we must believe that in the final wind-up you got the better of your canine enemies." "c-c-canine d-d-don't seem to fit the c-c-crime this time, jud," expostulated bluff. "it sounds so mild. well, we lathered 'em right and left, and took quite a number of s-s-scratches in return. b-b-both of us were getting pretty well winded, and i was b-b-beginning to be afraid of the outcome, when all at once i remembered that i had other b-b-bullets in my gun." "wise old head, that of yours, bluff," commented jud, with a touch of satire in his voice. "better late than never i should say. well, what did you do then?" "next chance i got i managed to turn my gun around and grip the stock," and as he said this bluff reached over to pick up his repeating rifle to exhibit the dents, as well as the half dried blood spots on the walnut shoulder piece, all of which went to prove the truth of his story as words never could have done. "that was the end of mr. mastiff then, eh?" continued jud. "oh, well! i hated to do it," bluff told them, "for he was a beaut of a beast, so strong and handsome; but then those shining teeth looked pretty ugly to me, and he was wild to get them at my throat, so there wasn't really any choice." "i should say not!" declared phil towns, shuddering at the picture bluff was drawing of the spirited encounter. "so i shot him," said bluff, simply. "and at that the remaining beast lit out as fast as he could, because with the fall of the leader of the pack he lost his grit. course after that sandy'n i couldn't think of hunting any longer. we figured that we ought to get back home and have our cuts looked after. and paul, phil has done a dandy job with that potash stuff." "glad to hear it," said the scout-master, quickly, "though i'll take a look myself to make sure. scratches from carnivorous animals are very dangerous on account of the poison that may cling to their claws. it's always best to be on the safe side, and neutralize the danger." "and paul," continued bluff, "will you accept one of these fat birds from us?" "not much i will!" declared the other immediately. "why should i be favored over the rest of the crowd? you and sandy earned the right to enjoy a feast, and we'll see to it that you have it to-morrow. let them hang until then; game is always better for lying a few days before being eaten, you know." of course, those who had remained at home were curious to know whether the rescue expedition had been successful or not. "we needn't ask if you found hank and his crowd," declared spider sexton, wisely, "for as scouts we are educated to observe things, and first of all we notice that none of you has come back with the pack he took away. that tells us the story. but please go on and give the particulars, paul." "we managed to find them just when they had their last stick on the fire," the scout-master commenced to relate. "we had to dig a way in to them, for there was an enormous drift banked up against their exit that they hadn't even begun to cut through." "how lucky you got there on time!" cried frank savage. "once more scouts have proved themselves masters of circumstances. bully for stanhope troop! i bet you they were glad to see you! yes, and like as not told you they were sorry for ever having done anything to annoy our crowd." "you've hit it to a dot, frank," admitted jud. "hank shows some signs of meaning to turn over a new leaf, and paul even believes there's a hope; but somehow the rest of us reckon its the old story over again. once they get on their own stamping grounds, by degrees they'll forget all we've done for them, and be back at their old tricks again. what's bred in the bone can't easily be beaten out of the flesh, my father says." "but it does happen once in a while," admonished paul; "so we'll drop the subject for the present. if hank starts in to do the right thing, though, remember that it's our duty as scouts to give him all the help we can. and now let's settle on the menu for supper, because we're all of us as hungry as wolves." while some of the boys were busying themselves around the fire, paul took a look at the slight injuries of the two aspiring hunters, and complimented the pleased philip on the clever way he had attended to their necessities. chapter xxx a change of plans that night, as the lads sat before the fire, those who had gone on the expedition of succor had to tell further particulars, for the others were curious to know about everything. when they heard how bud phillips had seen the two tramps running away from the vicinity of the fire before hardly any one else was around, of course bluff and the four other scouts were fully agreed that the mystery of the blaze had been as good as explained. "all the same," jud remarked, "unless we can show some clinching evidence our theory won't hold water with a lot of people who always have to be given solid proof. that brings up the subject, we talked about on the way home--should we pay a visit to that charcoal burners' cabin, and try to make prisoners of the yeggs?" "great scheme, i'd say!" burst out frank savage without any hesitation. "b-b-bully idea, let me tell you!" added bluff. "whee!" exclaimed sandy. "nearly takes my breath away just to hear you mention such a bold thing; but i'm game to try it if the rest are." paul smiled. truth to tell he had discounted all this, knowing what an impetuous lot his followers were, and how prone to push aside all thought of personal danger when tempted to perform some act that might redound to their credit. "plenty of time yet to talk that over," he told them. "we needn't decide too hastily, and will let the subject rest for the present, though i don't mind saying that the chances are we'll conclude to do something along those lines when on our way home." "is the charcoal burners' shack far away from the creek, tolly tip?" questioned bobolink, anxiously. "by the same token i do belave it lies not more'n a quarrter av a mile off from the strame. i c'n lade ye to the same with me eyes shut," announced the woodsman, evidently just as eager to take part in the rounding up of the vagrants as any of the enthusiastic scouts; for his eye was still a little discolored from the blow he had received in the fight with the desperate tramps. as their time was limited, paul knew that they should plan carefully if they were to accomplish all the things they were most desirous of carrying through. on that account he had each one make up his mind just what was dearest to him, and set about accomplishing that one thing without any unnecessary delay. as for paul himself, he most of all regretted the fact that on account of the deep snowdrifts and the bitter cold he would probably be unable to get any more flashlight pictures. "you see," he explained to some of the others when they were asking why he felt so disappointed, "most of the smaller animals are buried out of sight by the snow. like the squirrels, they take time by the forelock, and have laid in a supply of food, enough to last over this severe spell, so none of them will be anxious to show up in a hurry." "but i heard tolly tip giving you a real tip about the sly mink along the bank of the creek. how about it, paul?" asked jud. "well, that's really my only chance," admitted the scout-master. "it seems that minks have a perfect scorn for wintry weather around here, tolly says, and are on the job right along, no matter how it storms. he knows of one big chap who has a regular route over which he travels nearly every night, going in and out of holes in the banks as if going visiting." "i don't believe you've ever had a good snapshot of a live mink, have you, paul?" inquired bluff, showing more or less interest, though still somewhat stiff with the painful scratches he had received on the previous day. "i've always wanted to get such a flashlight," admitted paul, "because the mink is said to be one of the shyest of all small, fur-bearing animals, even more so than br'er fox, and considerably more timid than br'er 'coon." "you'll have to set the trap to-night then, won't you?" asked tom betts. "we've made all arrangements looking to such a thing," tom was assured. "i'm glad that it still stays clear and cold. we may only have a couple more nights in camp garrity." "but it's getting a little milder, don't you think?" inquired bobolink. "it's a big improvement on yesterday, and i imagine to-morrow will see a further change," the scout-master remarked. "then if those fellows in the cave mean to strike out for home they'll like as not find their chance by to-morrow," observed jud. "course they've got enough grub to keep them for a week. but it isn't much fun staying cooped up in a cave, and i reckon they've had enough of it. sim and jud acted that way, not to mention bud phillips." "before we make our start i'd like to take a last turn over that way," paul observed, as though he had been thinking the matter over. "i'd just like to see if they did strike out across the timber. their trail would tell the story, and we'd know what to expect." "i speak to go with you then," flashed back jud, even as bluff opened his mouth to give utterance to the same desire. "t-t-that's what a fellow gets for being a stutterer," grumbled bluff. "i meant to say just those words, but jud--hang the l-l-luck--was too speedy for me. huh!" "oh! as for that," laughed paul, "both of you can go along if you care to." as the day dragged along the scouts busied themselves in a dozen different ways according to their liking. some preferred to swing the axe and chop wood, though doubtless if they had been compelled to do this at home, loud and bitter would have been their lamentations. during the afternoon several went out for a walk, carrying guns along so as to be prepared for either game, or another pack of hungry wild dogs, though tolly tip assured them that, so far as he knew, there had existed only the one pack, with that enormous mastiff as leader. "if ye follow the directions i've been after givin' yees, it may be ye'll come on a bevy av pa'tridges," the woodsman told them as they were setting out. "for by the same token whin we've had a heavy snowfall i've always been able to knock down a lot av the birrds among the berry bushes. 'tis there they must go to git food or be starved entirely. good luck to ye, boys, an' kape yer weather eye open so ye won't git lost!" "remember," added paul, "if you do lose your bearings stop right still and fire three shots in rapid succession. later on try it again, and we'll come to you. but with such clever woodsmen along as jack and bobolink we don't expect anything of that kind to happen, of course." paul himself went with the keeper of the woods lodge to follow the frozen creek up to a certain place where there were numerous holes in the bank. here tolly tip pointed out little footprints made he said by the minks on the preceding night. "av course," the woodsman went on to say, "ye do be knowin' a hape better nor me jist where the best place to set the trap might be. all i c'n do is to show ye the p'int where the minks is most like to travel to-night." "that is just what i want you to do!" exclaimed paul. "but you can help me out in fixing things, so when the mink takes the bait and pulls the string he'll be sure to crouch directly in front of my camera trap." between them they eventually arranged matters, and then the trapper removed all traces of their presence possible, after which they returned to the cabin. "if the trap isn't sprung to-night i'll have another try-out," paul affirmed, "for it may be a long while before i'll get another such chance to snap off mr. sly mink in his own preserves." "oh! make your mind aisy on that score," said tolly tip, reassuringly. "i do be knowing the ways av the crature so well i c'n promise ye there'll be no hitch. that bait i set is sure to fetch him ivery time. i've sildom known it to fail." the afternoon came to an end, and the glow of sunset filled the heavens over in the west. the hunters came trooping in, much to the satisfaction of some of the stay-at-homes, who were beginning to fear something might have happened to them. "we heard a whole lot of shots away off somewhere," asserted phil towns, "so show us what you've got in the game pockets of your hunting coats to make them bulge out that way." "i've got three fat partridges," said jack. "two for me--one in each pocket!" laughed bobolink. then jack and bobolink looked expectantly toward jud as though expecting him to make a still better showing. at that jud began to unload, and before he stopped he had laid six birds on the rough deal table. at that there was much rejoicing. "just enough to go around!" exclaimed sandy griggs. "i was beginning to be sorry bluff and i had gone and cooked our birds, but now it's all right. here's for a bully mess to-morrow." "we've certainly made a big hole in your partridge supply since coming up here, tolly tip," announced bobolink, proudly. "and there's one deer less, too." "only one," said jud, regretfully; and paul knew he must be thinking of the stag responsible for the tracks seen on that day when they were on duty bent, and could not turn aside to do any hunting. "well, to-morrow may be our last day here," remarked the scout-master, "so every one of you had better wind up your affairs, to be ready to start home." chapter xxxi good-bye to deer head lodge "i think i'll sleep a whole lot better to-night," announced bobolink, as he gave a huge yawn, and stretched his arms high above his head. "what's the reason?" demanded jud, quickly. "are you happy because we're going to break camp so much sooner than we expected, owing to everything being snowed under up here in the woods?" "bobolink doesn't get enough to eat, i reckon," suggested tom betts. "if he doesn't it's his own fault then," jack went on to say, "because he has more to do with the cooking end of the game than any of us." "i guess i know what he means," hinted spider sexton, mysteriously. "then get a move on you, spider, and enlighten the rest of us," coaxed sandy, as he cuddled a bit closer to the crackling fire, for the wind had arisen again, and parts of the cabin were chilly, despite the roaring blaze. "why, the fact of the matter is, bobolink has a new girl to take to barn dances and all that this winter," said spider, boldly. "it's that pretty rose dexter belonging to the new family in town. oh! you needn't grin at me that way, bobolink. i own up i was doing my best to cut in on you there, but you seemed to have the inside track of me and i quit. but she is a peach if ever there was one!" "well, do you blame me then for feeling satisfied when we talk of going home?" demanded the accused scout. "all the same you're all away off in your guesses. i'm hoping to sleep soundly to-night just because my mind is free from wondering who set that incendiary fire and tapped mr. briggs' safe." "oh! so that's the reason, is it?" laughed paul. "i've been watching you more or less since we came up here, and i wondered if you hadn't been trying to figure that mystery out. i'm glad for your sake, as well as for some others' sakes, that we've been able to clear that thing up." "all i hope now is that on our way back home we can stop off and pay the hoboes a little friendly visit," continued bobolink. "same here," jud added, quickly. "even if our outing hasn't been everything we hoped for, it would even things up some if we could march into stanhope and hand the guilty men over to the police." indeed, bobolink was not the only scout who slept "like a rock" on that night. most of the boys were very tired after the exertions of the day, and, besides, now that it had been decided to return home, they really had a load removed from their minds. of course, all of them could have enjoyed a much longer stay at deer head lodge had the conditions been normal. that tremendous fall of snow, something like two feet on the level, paul felt, had utterly prostrated many of their best plans, and facing a protracted siege of it did not offer a great deal of attraction. with the coming of morning they were once more astir, and were soon as busy as a hive of bees. each scout seemed intent on getting as much done as possible while the day lasted. tolly tip alone looked sober. the quaint and honest fellow had taken a great liking to his guests, and looked forward to their speedy departure with something akin to dismay. "sure the rist av the winter will same a dreary time with not a hearty young voice to give me gratin' av a mornin'," he told paul. "indade, i don't know how i'm goin' to stand for the same at all, at all." "i'll tell you this, tolly tip," replied the scout leader emphatically. "if we get off during the easter holidays some of us may take a run up here to visit you again. and perhaps you'll find occasion to come to stanhope in some business dealings with mr. garrity. in that case you must let us know. i'll call a special meeting of the scouts, and you'll be our honored guest." the old woodsman was visibly affected by these hearty words. he led a lonely life of it, although until the coming of these merry boys it had not seemed especially so. they had aroused long buried memories of his own boyhood, and given him a "new lease of life," as he declared. nothing remarkable happened on this last day in camp, though numerous things took place. paul saw to it that in the afternoon the boys got everything ready to pack so there would be little delay in the morning, and they could get an early start if the weather conditions were at all favorable. the weather remained good. the great storm must have covered a considerable stretch of territory east of the mississippi and the great lakes and cleared the atmosphere wonderfully, for again the morning dawned without a threatening cloud to give cause for anxiety. there was considerable bustle inside the cabin and out of it about that time. packs were being done up, though in much smaller compass than when the boys arrived at the camp, since only enough food was being taken along to serve for a couple of meals. all the rest they only too gladly bequeathed to their genial host. many were the silent resolves on the part of the boys as to what they would send up to deer head lodge if ever the chance arrived, tobacco for tolly tip's pipe being of course the main idea, since he seemed to lack nothing else. on tolly tip's part, he forced each of the lads to pack away a particular pelt which they were to have made into some sort of small article, just to remember the glorious outing in the snowy woods by. at last the time came to say good-bye to the camp, and it was with unanimous agreement that the scouts clustered in a bunch, swung their hats, and gave three parting cheers for the lodge in the wilderness. tolly tip had laid out their course, and on the way the main body halted while he and paul tramped over to the foot of the hill where the cave among the rocks lay. paul was pleased to find the cave empty and the ashes cold where the fire had burned, thus proving that hank and his three companions had started overland for home on the previous day. once more joining the others, they continued on their way. "next in line come our friends, the hobo yeggmen!" remarked jud, with a grim closing of his lips. "listen," said paul, impressively, "for the last time i want to caution you all to follow the directions i've given. we must try to creep up on that old shack, and find out what the tramps are doing before we show our hand." "well, what have scouts been learning woodcraft for if they can't do a bit of spy work?" asked jud, boldly. "all you have to do, paul, is to pick those you want to keep you company when you make the grand creep; while the rest hang out close by, ready to jump in at the signal and make it unanimous." it might have been noticed, were one watching closely, that jud said this with a complacent smile hovering about his lips. the reason was easily guessed, because jud really had no peer among the members of stanhope troop of boy scouts when it came to creeping up on game or some pretended enemy. he had often proved his superiority in this respect, and could therefore take it for granted that the scout-master would pick him out to accompany him on an occasion like this. "all right, jud," said paul, smilingly, for he understood very well how the other felt, "i'll take jack with me, bobolink, and tom betts as well--yes, and you may come along too, i guess." some of them snickered at this, while jud glared haughtily around and shrugged his shoulders, looking aggrieved, until paul took occasion to whisper in his ear: "that was meant for a joke you understand, jud. of course, i couldn't think of doing this thing without your help." later on tolly tip announced that they would now leave the creek and head in the direction of the abandoned charcoal burners' shack. all the scouts felt more or less of a thrill in anticipation of what was to come. "i only hope," jud was heard to mutter, aggressively, "that they haven't gone and skedaddled since bud phillips saw 'em in the place. that'd make me feel pretty sore, let me tell you!" "not much chance of that happening, jud," jack assured the grumbler, "unless by some accident their supplies got low. and bud said they seemed to have enough on hand to last for weeks. everything's going to turn out as we want it, make up your mind to that." the old woodsman knew every rod of territory around that section, and could have led his charges in a bee-line to the shack except for the snowdrifts. of course, these caused more or less meandering, but in the end they came to a place where tolly tip raised a warning finger. every boy knew by that they must be close upon the shack. indeed, a whiff of wood smoke floated their way just then, announcing that the goal was at hand. they moved on for a couple of minutes. then all could glimpse the dilapidated cabin amidst the snow piles, with smoke oozing from its disabled mud and slab chimney. paul made a gesture that they recognized, whereupon part of the company came to a halt and hid, while the others crept on with the leader. chapter xxxii the capture of the hobo yeggmen long practice had made the scouts adepts at this sort of work. they could creep up on an unsuspecting sentry almost as cleverly as those copper-colored natives of the american woods whom all boy scouts copy when studying woodcraft. then again the piles of snow helped, as well as hindered, them more or less. but except for that column of blue wood smoke drifting lazily upward over the cabin there was really no sign of life about the place. paul, tolly tip and the others of the scouting party soon reached the rear of the shack. they could easily see where the two tramps had actually worked to close up most of the chinks between the logs, to keep the bitter cold air and the driving snow out of their refuge. men of their sort would never think of staying for a week or two amidst such barren surroundings so long as there remained a warm county jail ready to accommodate them with free lodging--that is, unless they had a good reason for wanting to avoid civilization. paul, believing that they had set that fire and robbed mr. briggs' safe, could understand just why they remained here in seclusion. they doubtless feared suspicion may have been pointed in their direction, and that something of a search was being indulged in looking to their ultimate capture. as soon as they arrived close to the walls of the shack the boys searched for some crevice through which they might gain a view of the interior. several managed to dig peep-holes by detaching the frozen mud that the tramps had plastered over open chinks. they applied their eyes to such crevices, and first of all discovered a blazing fire. then a movement on one side drew their attention to the taller vagrant sitting quietly smoking his black pipe as though quite contented with his lot of idleness, so long as his wants were fairly well supplied. it happened that the wind had gone down, and there brooded over the snowy forest a deep silence. this fact allowed the listeners without to catch the sound of voices inside the hut, for one of the tramps talked heavily, and the other had a high-pitched voice that carried like a squeaking fife. what they were saying just then instantly riveted the attention of the listeners, for as though by some strange freak it had an intimate connection with the object of the scouts' coming to the spot. the shorter man seemed to have been doing some work on his injured hand, for he was now carefully wrapping a fresh rag around it. at the same time he was grumbling because of the pain his injury gave him. "i never knowed how bad a burn was till now, billy," was the burden of his complaint. "i've been shot and hurted in every other way, but this here's the fust time i ever got licked by fire. it's a-goin' to be the last time too, if i knows it." "any fool had ought to know better'n to play with fire," the other told him between his teeth as he sucked at his pipe. "i reckons that ye'd been wuss hurt nor that if i hadn't slapped a pail o' water over ye, and put ye out. gotter stand fur it, shorty, till the new skin comes along. a burn is wuss nor a cut any day." "i on'y hopes as how it's well afore we skip outen this hole," the sufferer went on to say, still unappeased. "if we git in a tight hole i'd need both my fins to do business with. a one-handed man ain't got much chance to slip away when the cornfield cops make a raid." "they ain't goin' to bother us any! make up yer mind to that same, boy," continued the tall vagrant, complacently. "when the time comes, an' the weather lets up on us a bit, why, we'll jest flit outen this region by the back door. i'm only mad as hops 'bout one thing." "yep, an' i know what it be, 'cause ye been harpin' on that subject right along, billy. yer disapp'inted 'cause the old man didn't have a bigger haul in his cracked safe." "well, that's what ails me," admitted the other in a grumbling way. "we'd a been fixed fur a year to come if only he'd had a good wad lyin' low, 'stead of a measly bunch of the long green." "better luck next time, billy, say i," continued the shorter tramp, as he finished fastening the soiled rag about his left hand and wrist. it can be easily understood that paul had heard quite enough by this time. there was not the slightest doubt in the world that billy and his partner had been guilty of setting fire to mr. briggs' store, and had also broken open his ancient safe to extract whatever amount of money happened to be in it at the time. paul drew back and touched each one of his companions in turn. they knew just what the gesture he made signified. the time for action had come, and they were thus invited to take part with him in the holding up of the desperate pair. that the tramps belonged to this class of wandering criminals there could not be the least doubt after hearing snatches of their conversation. this affair of mr. briggs' store was apparently but one of many similar episodes in their careers. the little party now proceeded to creep around to the front of the shack. they knew, of course, that the door had been repaired and that it was also closed tightly, but paul hardly believed they would find any difficulty in pushing it open. arriving at the point that was to witness their sudden attack, paul marshaled his followers in a compact mass. he meant to imitate in some degree the flying wedge used upon the football field with such good effect. tolly tip was given the post of honor in the van. this was done partly because of the fact that he was a man, and the boys felt the tramps would be likely to feel more respect for a company of invaders led by a grown-up. after the woodsman came paul and jud. jack, bobolink and tom betts formed the base of the triangle which was to push through the opening with all possible speed, once the door had been thrown open. even though they found it fastened by some sort of bar or wooden pin, paul had arranged in his mind just how such fastenings could be broken without trouble. he had noted quite a good-sized log lying near by, used by the vagrants in their seclusion to chop their firewood on. and paul had decided that this log would make an admirable battering ram. the door was old and feeble, so that one good slam would doubtless hurl it back, and give them free ingress. there was no need of all this display of energy, however, for upon investigation paul discovered that he could easily move the door, once he got his hand on the wooden latch. he only waited to make sure that the others were ready, and then fell back into his pre-arranged place, leaving to tolly tip the honor of opening the way. when the woodsman felt a hand jab him in the short ribs he recognized this as the signal from paul for which he had been waiting. he immediately threw the door back with such violence that it crashed to the floor, its weak hinges giving way under the strain. in through the opening the whole six of them poured. the boys' hunting guns were instantly leveled in the direction of the astounded tramps, who started to scramble to their feet, but, cowed by the display of force, sank back again in dire dismay. "hold up your arrms!" roared tolly tip, just as he had been instructed to do by the scout-master. both hoboes made ludicrous haste to elevate their hands as far as they could. in the excitement of the moment, having only caught glimpses of khaki uniforms, they imagined that a detachment of the state militia had been called out to search the woods for the firebugs guilty of trying to destroy mr. briggs' establishment in stanhope. by the time they realized that five of the invaders were only boys it was too late to attempt anything like defiance. besides, those shotguns and rifles, even when held in boyish hands, had just as grim a look as though gripped by grown-up warriors. "jud, you've got the thongs i supplied!" called out paul, "so get busy, with jack to help you, and tie their hands behind them. slip those mitts on before you do it, because we've got a long way to go, and it would be cruel to have their fingers frost-bitten on the road to stanhope." the men dared not offer any objections, though they kept using strong language, much to the disgust of some of the scouts. "paul, tell them that unless they close their mouths and quit that swearing we'll gag them both," said jack, unable to endure it any longer. "i was just about to say that when you took the words out of my mouth!" declared the scout-master, indignantly. "i've got a couple of gags ready here, made for the occasion. if you know when you're well off, you fellows, keep still, and accept your fate like men. you're only going to get what you deserve after all." "it was a bad day for you both when you struck stanhope," said jud, with one of his tantalizing grins. "i only wish i knew the tramp signs, so i could write a warning on every fence outside the town so's to keep other hobo yeggs away." having accomplished the object of their mission without any trouble they now went back to join their comrades, who were anxiously waiting for the signal paul was to give in case their help was needed. and great was the disappointment of bluff, sandy, frank, spider and phil when they found that they had been left out of the game. chapter xxxiii conclusion once more striking the frozen creek the boys, accompanied by tolly tip still, headed down the stream, bent upon reaching lake tokala early in the afternoon. the two prisoners were well looked after, though there was little danger of their giving any trouble. upon searching them the boys had found some money and several small articles of more or less value that they suspected had been taken from the storekeeper's safe at the time of the robbery. these would perhaps assist materially to convict "billy" and "shorty" when the time for their trial came. the men, stolid, after their kind, seemed to have become reconciled to their fate. nevertheless, paul did not mean to relax his vigilance in the least degree. he knew very well that such cunning characters would be ready to take advantage of the least opportunity to break away. in fact all of the scouts had resolved to be constantly on the watch. they were in imagination already receiving the hearty congratulations from some of the leading townspeople for capturing the guilty rogues, and did not mean to be cheated out of their pleasure through careless handling of the case. "there's the lake!" announced jud elderkin, presently. "yes, and i can see smoke coming from the cabin of abe turner!" bobolink hastily added, for he knew just where to look for the humble domicile of the man mr. garrity had stationed at the lake to make preliminary preparations for the extensive logging operations he meant to start on the following spring. abe heard their shouts and greeted them warmly. of course, he was interested on discovering that they had captured the two tramps, and admitted that there could be no reasonable doubt of their guilt, once he heard the story, and saw shorty's scorched hand. but the boys did not mean to stay over night at the lake. that would make their next day's journey too long, for they hoped to get into stanhope before the setting of another sun. tolly tip said good-bye sorrowfully. he concluded that he might as well stay with abe that night for company. "'tis harrd to say ye go away, lads," the old woodsman told them, as he wrung each scout's hand with a vim that made him wince. "depind on it, i'll often think av ivery one av ye as the days crape along. here's a good luck to the whole bunch! and be sure to remimber me to mr. garrity." "we will, tolly tip, and here's three cheers for you!" cried bobolink; and no doubt the vigorous shouts that arose would ring pleasantly in the ears of the old woodsman for many a day. the boys managed to cross the lake and use their iceboats in the bargain, for the violence of the wind had kept most of the surface clear of snow. it was a new experience to the two vagrants, and one they hardly fancied; though the boats they were placed on did not make any remarkable time, the breeze being very light. once on the radway river, the boys found it necessary to drag the boats pretty much all the way. they kept on, however, until the sun was setting, and then concluded to camp for the night. paul knew that this would be the time when the most danger would arise concerning the possible escape of the prisoners. he was more than ever determined that such a catastrophe should not occur, even if he himself had to sit up and keep watch all through the night. the boys chose a very good spot for a camp, in that there was an abundance of loose wood at hand that could be used for fuel. jud also suggested that they build two fires, so that they would have a certain amount of warmth on either side. "that's a good idea," said paul, falling in with it immediately, for he saw how it would simplify matters in connection with their prisoners. he did not dare allow these men to have the freedom of their arms, for there could be no telling what they might not attempt in the desire to gain their freedom. and with their hands tied the lack of circulation might cause their extremities to freeze unless looked after. supper was cooked, and things made as cheerful as the conditions allowed. indeed, most of the boys thought that it was rather in the nature of a novel experience to be forced to sleep amidst the snow banks, and with only a scanty brush shelter between themselves and the clear, cold sky. few of them secured much sleep, it may as well be admitted. paul himself was on the alert most of the night. dozens of times his head bobbed up, and his suspicious eyes covered the cowering forms of the two prisoners, who had been placed where they would get the full benefit of the twin fires. then again the fires needed frequent attention, and paul took it upon himself to see that they did not die down too low; for the night was still bitter cold. as an abundant supply of wood had been gathered by willing hands it was not very hard to toss a few armfuls on each fire from time to time. morning came at last, and the scouts were up with the break of day. the fires were again attended to, and breakfast started, for the lads knew they would have a hard day's journey before them. there was a strong possibility that they would encounter some huge drifts which might block their passage; and it was this that gave paul the most concern. it was nearly eleven when they finally sighted the place where the one-time canal merged its waters with the radway river, forming the connecting link between that waterway and the home stream. "looks like an old friend," asserted jud, when they had turned off the wider stretch and started to follow the canal. "but see the snow piles ahead of us, will you?" cried bobolink in dismay. "we're going to have some jolly work climbing through those!" "if you only look," remarked paul, "in most cases you'll find you're able to go around the hills that bar your way." it was very much as paul said, for, as a rule, they were able to find a passage around the huge drifts. still progress was very tedious, and when the scouts finally reached the river the afternoon was well along. "look! will you?" called out sandy griggs, exultantly. "the dear old bushkill is swept as clear as a barn floor, and the ice is gilt-edged!" "why!" echoed bobolink, equally pleased, "our troubles have vanished just like smoke wreaths. we can run all the way home with this nice breeze that's coming up the river as fair as anything. whoop! we're in great luck, fellows!" stanhope was reached half an hour before sundown. there were a good many people on the ice, mostly boys and girls, and the coming of the iceboat flotilla created something of a stir. this was considerably augmented when it was learned that the scouts who had gone off on a trip to the snow woods had brought back two vagrants, who were responsible for the fire and the robbery that had recently occurred in the town. of course, the men were easily convicted with so much evidence against them. mr. briggs publicly declared that he was very sorry for saying what he had in connection with the scouts, and that from that time on they could count on him as a friend of the organization. some of the boys believed they would never again have the opportunity of engaging in such interesting events as had come their way during the midwinter outing. there were others, however, who declared that such an enterprising group of scouts would surely meet with new adventures while pursuing the study of nature's mysteries. that these latter were good prophets the reader may learn from the succeeding volume of this series. at the very next meeting of the banner boy scouts mr. thomas garrity was an honored guest, and had the privilege of hearing an account read that covered all the doings of the ten lads during their midwinter outing. at the conclusion of the meeting it was only proper that a vote of thanks should be given to their benefactor for his kindness. this was done and was followed by three cheers that made mr. garrity's ears ring, and a smile of sympathy for these boyish hearts linger on his lips. hal kenyon disappears by gordon stuart [illustration] the reilly & lee co. publishers . . . . chicago ------------------------------------------------------------------------ copyright, by the reilly & lee co. printed in the u.s.a.-- ------------------------------------------------------------------------ contents i mummy caÑon ii something about dr. byrd iii a fall from the air iv the wreck and the aviator v lost! vi the scream in the waterfall vii a badly frightened boy viii hal's discovery ix hal a prisoner x the mystery of the leather bag xi convincing bad xii airship plans xiii the "painter" xiv building the airship xv stolen wealth xvi flight xvii exploring the cave xviii the island in the air xix the rescuing airship xx the panther and the cave xxi to flathead by airship again xxii clearing hal xxiii the boy scouts of the air xxiv mountain lion bridge ------------------------------------------------------------------------ chapter i mummy caÑon "mountain, pine tree, cañon, gulch, cookies, bacon!--like 'em much. canteen, hike-stick! hi-hi-hike-stick! lakefarm! mummy! flathead!--ra-a-a!" thirty lusty juvenile throats, strong with frequent exercise, caused mummy cañon to ring with this school-yell. it was almost evening, and the boys of lakefarm school were on their return from a day's outing in the mountains. clad in boy scout uniforms and wearing rough rider hats, they presented a picturesque appearance in that wild, rocky, mountain country, while their school-yell echoed among the hills, bright in the setting sun. it was midsummer, yet thirty of the forty-four regular students were in attendance during the summer term, evidence of the popularity of the school, for they were all boys of the age that welcomes vacation time with cheers. in spring this cañon was a beautiful place; in summer it lost some of its freshness, but was still beautiful; in fall it lost more of life, but beauty still clung to it; in winter, it was a picture that called for deep admiration. it also might well have been named echo cañon; indeed many in that part of colorado often called it that. but mummy cañon it had been christened, and this was the only name by which it was known on the maps and in the guide books. interesting stories were told about this great mountain gorge. they had to do with the ancient inhabitants of the country, the cliff-dwellers, ruins of whose homes were to be found here and there high up in steep places. the boys of lakefarm knew these stories by heart. they had been told over and over and added to until enough new and interesting details had been gathered around the original stories to fill a book. dr. regulus byrd, head master, chief scout, and owner of lakefarm, was as peculiar as his name. some called him eccentric, but the boys of the school and the friends of the doctor did not agree. the boys loved him as few schoolmasters ever are loved; the older people of the district declared that when it came to a pinch, dr. byrd never lacked judgment. the doctor and the two instructors of the school, mr. frankland and mr. porter, were with the boys on the outing from which they were now returning. mr. frankland was a short, brisk, wide-awake man, who smiled frequently and shrewdly. mr. porter was an odd personage, dignified and very positive in all things, but an excellent instructor in manual training. after the procession had advanced well toward the heart of the gully and given two or three school-yells that raised the echoes, mr. porter said: "dr. byrd, we're only three miles from home. why not stop here, build a fire, and sit around and talk a while?" "that's the stuff," came from several of the boys at the same time. dr. byrd had a boy's heart, and as there was no good reason for opposing the suggestion, he gave his consent. in a jiffy the boys scattered in all directions in search of firewood; up the side of the hill and along the near bank of a noisy mountain stream, and soon were returning with armfuls of dead wood. most of them were experienced in building camp fires in true frontier style, and the work progressed rapidly. two of the boys, hal kenyon and byron bowler, were delegated to the work of starting the fire. this was not done by striking a match and touching it to some dry leaves. the method employed was one more suited to the romantic scene. first, hal and byron searched until they found two serviceable pieces of dry cottonwood root. having good, strong, sharp pocketknives, they proceeded to whittle and shave the roots. one was made flat and about three-fourths of an inch thick; the other was cut slim and round and sharpened at both ends. in one edge of the flat piece was cut a notch, and close to the notch was sunk a hole to fit one end of the slim piece. then a small hand-piece with a socket for the other end of the drill was prepared by byron, while hal cut a section of a small green limb, two feet long, which with a thong made a bow. all the material needed for starting a fire was now ready save a supply of tinder. this was obtained by rubbing a piece of dry cedar on a rough boulder, producing a handful of easily lighted shreds. the notched piece of wood was now placed on a flat rock, the drill was inserted in place and the string of the bow looped tightly over it. then the top-socket-piece was set on the other end for a handle, and the bow was drawn back and forth, the notched piece being held in place under the foot of the operator. hal kenyon operated the device. the drill revolved rapidly in the socket, and presently a fine brown powder was flowing into the notch. in a few seconds this powder was smoking densely and slight fanning with a hat brought a flame. some of the tinder was now applied and after a little blowing, a tiny flame leaped up. the rest of the tinder was then applied, followed by some cedar bark and small wood. pretty soon the fire was roaring and crackling, while the boys piled on more fuel. "now for our camp-fire yell," cried hal when the last armful of fuel had been deposited on the burning heap. immediately the cañon rang and echoed with thirty young voices chanting the following: "camp-fire, rah! smoke-punk, ha! tinder, lakefarm! rah--rah--rah!" this yell was repeated several times until it seemed as if the rocks poised aloft would be shaken loose and come crashing down on the reckless boy scouts. then the boys scattered again, each returning presently with another load of fuel, which was deposited near the blazing pile. "well done, my lads, well done," announced dr. byrd as the last load was dropped. "now what are we going to do next?" "eat supper," replied allie atkins, with a slap of his hand on his hungry region. "of course; i almost forgot that," laughed the doctor. "i'm always forgetting my stomach. that's the reason i haven't dyspepsia. always forget your stomachs, boys, until they remind you of their existence and you'll be all right in that spot. but what are we going to eat? nothing left, is there?" "how about the fish?" inquired walter hurst, commonly known as "pickles" because of his fondness for that table delicacy. "that's right. this is just the time and place to cook them." the suggestion was followed accordingly. the fish--two score of mountain trout--had been caught by the boys in the rio grande several miles to the east early in the morning. as they had enough other food for breakfast and dinner, their catch had been saved for the next morning's meal at the school. of course the doctor had not forgotten the fish when he asked the boys what they would eat for supper. but he always appeared to have a poor memory and few ideas when on a trip with his scouts. he made it a rule to compel the boys to suggest and do every useful thing within their power. so they prepared the meal on this occasion, as they had done on others. fireplaces were constructed with stones, frying-pans were placed over them, and the fish were soon sputtering appetizingly. fortunately, they still had a moderate supply of bread, butter, jam and coffee, so that all appetites were fairly well satisfied. the pans and coffee pots and cups were washed in the dashing stream, the remains of the meal were cleared away, more fuel was thrown on the camp fire, and all gathered before it for the next number of the unprepared program. for a few minutes the boys chatted on the incidents of their three days' hike and exploration. then one of them suggested: "let's tell stories." a proposal of this kind under such circumstances is always favorably received by true boy scouts. there was a general note of approval, and dr. byrd inquired: "well, what shall it be first?" "flathead mountain," suggested pickles. "good!" exclaimed frank bowler. "and have somebody slam somebody in the face," proposed clayton white, the joker of the school. "that'll suit 'bad.'" frank bowler had been nicknamed "bad" because he was continually talking about "clipping somebody on the jaw," or "slamming some one in the face," or "putting somebody to the bad." "i'll push you one on the chin if you don't close your face," growled "bad" in an undertone to the last speaker. clayton only grinned. he was not at all afraid, as he was a year older than frank and thought himself stronger. "well, who has something more to add to the story of flathead?" inquired the owner of lakefarm. "i have," replied hal kenyon. "very well, hal, we'll listen to you first," announced the doctor, and all became attentive with a readiness that indicated almost military training. chapter ii something about dr. byrd it was well known how mummy cañon obtained its name. high up on the face of a bluff was a large rock, almost human in shape, in wrappings like a mummy. mummy cañon had not yet attracted the attention of sight-seers. no railroad ran near it, and only a rattling stage-coach line carried visitors between the nearest depot and the small settlement of jamestown, or "jimtown," as it was popularly called, near which dr. byrd had located his boys' school. dr. byrd had served many years as a physician on english ships visiting the orient, and, by both inheritance and good fortune, had become wealthy. when about fifty years old he found that the heat and dampness of the tropical climate were undermining his health and that he must heed the warnings of nature. so he returned home, but in london found that his throat still troubled him, and he decided that he most move elsewhere. his children being grown and married, he and his wife sold part of their personal effects and came to america. then they traveled about a good deal, trying to find a climate that would promote better health for the doctor, but every place they visited proved unsatisfactory until they reached colorado. the altitude of this state, second highest of all the states of the union, together with the atmospheric conditions, proved "just the thing." but where should they make their home? denver was delightful as to climate, but the doctor was not contented there. he loved nature, to be out of doors; he had no patience with clanging street cars, smoking engines, and houses huddled together. so they began their search anew. one day they stopped at lake city and took a stage-coach ride over the la garita mountains. the vehicle was only a rattling two-seated open buggy, drawn by four horses that might have pulled a plow over any american field, but it was dignified with the name stage-coach. the driver was a young man who had a contract with the government for transporting mail to and from various mining points along the way, and he added to his profits by carrying passengers and all manner of light freight. along the foot of the mountains they rode for several miles, then up a grade and around a spur of a perpendicular hill, up, up, up, winding here and there, overlooking deep gullies, dashing downgrade into a ragged valley, with its noisy brook; then up again and on and around they wound to where the pines stuck in the mountain sides like toothpicks. in the course of this journey they passed through mummy cañon. but this gorge had not yet received its name, and when the imaginative dr. byrd beheld the "swathed form" on the face of a lofty bluff, he called attention to it. "that's the mummy," said the driver in a matter-of-fact way. "it looks just like an egyptian mummy," declared the doctor. "does everybody call it that?" "everybody around here does." "what's the name of this cañon?" "'tain't got none. i s'pose it'll get a name one o'these days when more people settle 'round here." "it's going to have one right now," announced the doctor. "its name is mummy cañon. i call you two as witnesses of the christening." "you'll have to stay here a while and tell everybody or the name won't stick," laughed mrs. byrd. "and that's just what i'm going to do," was the surprising answer. "i'm going to make my home right near here--with your permission, of course, my dear. this is just the country i want to live in. it's good for my health. it's good for my eyes; i like to look at it." that settled it. mrs. byrd was amiable and happy to live in any place where her husband's health could improve. moreover, she, too, was delighted with the scenery and praised it almost as much as did the doctor. but there were other features of special interest in the cañon. this part of the state had once been inhabited by the cliff-dwellers, prehistoric pueblo indians. ruins of their early dwellings and defenses were to be found here and there, although usually they were in such dilapidated condition that it was difficult to make out their character except at close range. the "mummy bluff" stood out high on the side of a most remarkable mountain, especially noticeable because of its shape. the sides looked unscalable and the top appeared to have been cut off clean and level with a monster knife, a few hundred feet lower than the neighboring lofty peaks. before leaving the cañon, dr. byrd gave a name also to this mountain. he called it flathead. the doctor was well pleased with "jimtown." in fact, he was pleased with everything now. the mining settlement was booming when he and mrs. byrd arrived. it was located close to the side of a mountain; a few of the houses, in fact, stood a short distance up on the steep slope. the place was so busy that nobody seemed to have time to notice the arrival of so humble a pair as a london physician and his wife, and they selected a site and built a home without attracting any particular attention. the site was located near a pretty mountain-spring lake that fed a tributary of the rio grande. it was about three miles from mummy cañon. the scenery of course was beautiful, as it is in all of mountainous colorado. the lake was clear and cold. it rested in a pocket more than a hundred feet above a delightful valley and behind it was a range of tall, steep, snow-capped mountains. the outlet was down several natural terraces that converted the little river into a succession of dashing cascades before it reached the valley. this place was several miles from "jimtown," the nearest settlement. dr. byrd engaged servants and began the cultivation of a considerable farm. the beauty of the spot and the personality of the settlers soon attracted attention, and several others moved there and began the cultivation of farms. before long a post office branch was opened and the stage-coach line ran two miles out of its way to deliver mail, groceries and general supplies. meanwhile the doctor made acquaintances rapidly. he was a most entertaining person to meet. he had traveled extensively and seemed to know the world. he had an excellent library and a magnificent collection of curios from many countries. moreover, he had a delightful personality, tall, straight, athletic figure, kindly intelligent face, and a shock of curly iron-gray hair that commanded the admiration of all who saw it. but the doctor's best friends were boys. and there was a reason for this. the boys whom he met always found in him a best friend. he knew all about them, their likes and dislikes, their sports and their hardships. he had a vivid recollection of his own boyhood days, and he could reel off yarns by the hour. just put him into a company of youngsters and let him begin: "when i was a boy," and everybody was all attention in an instant. of course there were not many boys living in the neighborhood of the new mountain home, but there were a good many in jimtown, where the doctor soon became a familiar figure. and there was always company at "lakefarm," as he had named the place, and the "company" always was urged to bring the boys along. frequently they would remain at lakefarm after the grown-ups had departed, and every summer the place became "a regular boy ranch," as one visitor called it. finally the doctor got so interested in "boy-ology" that he resolved to open a boys' school. manual training had become quite the fashion in the making of young men all over the country and this appealed to the owner of lakefarm. so he let his ideas become known and was astonished as well as pleased at the indorsement they received. five years after settling at lakefarm dr. byrd built a schoolhouse and a shop and a dormitory on his farm, engaged instructors and servants, and then announced that he was ready to receive pupils. it was surprising how rapidly the school was filled. in two weeks dr. byrd announced that he could receive no more, and the registry list was closed. most of the boys were of either wealthy or well-to-do parents. naturally this was an almost necessary condition, as the tuition and living expenses at an institution of this kind were not the lowest. but to offset this, the doctor made arrangements for receiving a few pupils on nominal payments or free of charge. one of these poor boys was hal kenyon, whom dr. byrd found selling newspapers on a street corner in denver. hal proved to be such a bright lad that the owner of lakefarm decided at once to do something for him. hal's parents were willing and he went to school in the mountains. three successful and happy years had passed since the opening of the school on lakefarm. meanwhile the settlement around the school grew until the census enumerator reported fifty families. previously the town had been known as byrd's place, or just byrd's, but now the subject of a permanent name arose and a meeting was called to settle the matter. flathead was the name selected. after this the name of the school was changed in the popular mind. officially it bore the title of lakefarm institute, but soon it was spoken of frequently as flathead school, while some humorously played on the idea suggested in the name and styled it the "school for level-headed boys." this latter pleased dr. byrd very well, for it expressed his purpose in a few words, to develop in his pupils a liberal supply of common sense. chapter iii a fall from the air that was the history of mummy cañon, flathead mountain and lakefarm institute. the mountain was partly visible from the school. on their return to the farm from mummy cañon the boy scouts would have to walk on through the cañon, past old flathead, and up the stream that came dashing noisily down from lakefarm and joined flathead river north of the big gorge. the peakless mountain was located near the lower end of the cañon, and it was from a bluff on the mountain side that the "mummy" stood forth. before the sun went down the scouts could see the outlines of this freak of nature from their position at the camp fire, but as it sank beneath the high horizon and the cañon grew dark, both the bluff and the "mummy" were lost to view. but presently the moon rose over old flathead. under such circumstances hal kenyon began his legend of the cañon, relating it as follows: "flathead mountain was once a giant. he was the biggest giant that ever lived. his name wasn't flathead then. his head ran up to a peak, and the people called him sugar loaf. "but his heart was made of stone, the hardest kind, and his brains were all up in the peak of his head. and those brains didn't amount to much, for they had such a small place to rest in that they were squeezed into half their natural size. "and since he didn't have much brains and his heart was made of stone, he was a cruel giant. he did all kinds of mean things. he killed and ate all the boys he could lay his hands on. there weren't any boy scouts in those days, or they'd have gone out and killed him." "i'd have clouted him in the jaw," interrupted frank bowler energetically. "just one good swift punch on the chin--" "yes, you would, bad," jeered pickles; "you're all the time talking about clouting somebody--but you never do." "i don't, eh?" "come, come, boys," warned the doctor. "that's not very dignified talk for a boy scout, frank. you ought to be ashamed of yourself. it's silly. go ahead, harry. we'll let frank tell us how he would have licked the giant after you've finished." "well," continued hal, "i was going to tell how a boy like bad did clout the giant in the face, or something worse, but he interrupted me. you see it was this way. a good many years ago, a boy called smash lived near here. that was before the giant lost his peak. smash went around smashing everybody in the face. the giant met him in the woods one day and nodded his head at him and said hello. "'come off the heap; don't talk to me,'" jeered smash. 'i'll lay my mit on your mouth.' "'ho, ho, ho!' laughed the giant. 'you're the conceitedest kid that ever came to this cañon.' "'where's the best place to hit you?' asked smash. "'right here on my ankle,' replied the giant. 'you can't reach any higher.' "'let me stand on your ear, and i'll give you a nailer,' said smash. "the giant picked smash up with two fingers and stood him on his ear. "'now, let me have your axe,' said smash. "'what!' roared the giant. "'let me have your axe.' "'ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!' laughed the giant. 'you couldn't get your arms around the handle.' "'i can't, eh? just give it to me and i'll knock your brains out.' "'all right, you conceited kid,' said the giant. 'here it is. bust away.' "he always carried his axe with him to cut firewood, and he gave it to the boy. smash's fingers seemed suddenly to grow very long and very strong, for they seized the handle and lifted it up. then, before the giant realized what was happening, smash gave the axe a mighty swing and cut the top of his head off." "hurrah for smash!" exclaimed bad. "wait a minute," said hal. "there's more coming and you won't be so happy over it." "did smash fall off his ear?" inquired one of the boys. "good guess," replied hal. "that's just what happened." "did he break his neck?" asked another. "i don't know; but it was just as bad. he fell faster than the top of the giant's head and the giant's brains spilt on top of him and drownded him." "_drowned_ him, you mean," corrected mr. porter. but the correction was not noticed. the boys were loudly expressing their opinions of the story. some liked it; others were displeased. "served him right for having the big-head," declared joe moffett wisely. "you bet it did," agreed vincent pyle. "didn't either," shouted frank bowler. "that's a crazy story. you can't tell me. why, do you think a boy who could stand on a giant's ear and cut off the top of his head with a axe as big as forty trees would get in such a scrape?" "no," replied several. "yes," declared others. "you're crazy," said bad, addressing the latter. "why, he'd 'a' fell in the giant's pocket, or caught hold o' one of his whiskers, or hung onto his watch chain." "that's a good argument," pronounced dr. byrd. "what have you to say to it, hal?" "bad's wrong," replied the story teller. "i want you boys to quit calling frank 'bad,'" said the doctor sternly. "he isn't bad at all. he's just extravagant in his talk." "i don't care what they call me," declared frank, who was rather proud of his nickname. "just so we don't call you down, eh?" pickles amended. "if you do, i'll clean you up." pickles was smaller than bad and did not resent this threat. the doctor did not regard frank's talk very seriously and so did not remonstrate. he remembered similar experiences of his own and believed that hard knocks are a much better cure than constant preaching for the brag and bluff of a boy. "where'd you get that story?" inquired byron bowler, bad's one-year-older brother. "make it up yourself?" "no, pepper helped me," replied hal. pepperill humphrey was an old servant of the doctor's who had traveled with him much and followed his employer soon after the latter settled in colorado. he was an interesting character, one of those old-style family servants who had grown up with the families for whom they worked. "we worked it out together," continued hal. "did you put me in it or did pepper?" inquired frank. "i didn't know you were in it," replied hal with a mischievous grin plainly visible in the firelight. "oh, smarty! you know what i mean. you meant smash for me." "i put smash in the story, yes; but you never did any such things as he did." hal and frank were very good friends, and hal knew better than to take seriously bad's "fierce" attitude. he liked his warlike friend best when he was threatening to "clean somebody up." there was something amusing about him when he was making one of his idle threats. "now, who's going to tell us a story about the mummy?" inquired mr. frankland. "i have one on _that_ if nobody else has," announced dr. byrd. "tell it," cried several of the boys eagerly. "it isn't very long," said the doctor; "but it fits in well with hal's story. the giant, by the way, had water on the brain: that's why smash was drowned. "well, smash, by the way, was an indian. and he had a brother whose name was rash. this brother was continually doing the most outlandish things and performing the most wonderful feats. after the top of the giant's head was cut off and his brains gone, the giant died. but as he was very stockily built, he did not fall over, but continued to stand there. trees and bushes and grass and flowers grew all over and he became a mountain. "now, rash was a witness of the death of smash. he was sailing above in an airship--" "what!" "in an airship!" "yes, why not?" he replied. "who ever heard of indians having airships!" said bad in tones of disgust. "this indian was a real inventor," explained dr. byrd. "but he kept the secrets of all his inventions to himself, so that when he died all his work died with him. when he saw the fearful accident that had befallen his brother, he glided down to offer assistance. the giant was dead, although standing erect; but smash had disappeared, all but one foot. that was sticking out from under the hollow peak of the giant's head, which had fallen over the boy and caged him in. "rash alighted and attempted to turn the peak over; but although he was very strong, he was unable to do this. so he flew away, and a few days later he returned with several other indians. with the aid of some tree trunks for levers they elevated one side of the peak-prison and pulled out the body of the prisoner. "the brain of the giant proved to have been a most remarkable substance. it had a strong odor of spices and chemicals and had converted smash's body into a mummy. the flesh was becoming hard as stone and it was evident that no decay could follow. "although rash was a reckless and daring fellow, he had not the great fault that had brought smash to a sad end. he appreciated the danger of such a nature and desired to warn all others against a like fate. so he wrapped the body in cloths, as some of the indian tribes have done, and saturated the cloths with diluted giant's brain to preserve them. then he put the body on his airship and arose to the giant's forehead, and landed with his burden on a beetling eyebrow. there he hewed out a shallow niche, into which, he set the mummified smash and cemented him fast; and on the giant's forehead he remains to-day as a warning not only to boys who are continually threatening to clean some one up, but also to giants who may be so foolish as to put great power into the hands of boastful youths." everybody except frank applauded this story. after the hand-clapping and shouts of glee had subsided, bad remarked disdainfully: "that story's all bunk. the mummy on the mountain's as big as a elephant. how could it have been a boy?" "oh, those indians were giants themselves, though they weren't anything like as big as flathead," exclaimed dr. byrd. at this moment all were startled by a most remarkable noise. it was a heavy whirring sound and came from overhead. instinctively they all looked up and beheld in the moonlight a very strange object. but, strange though it was, every one of the boys recognized its nature almost immediately. "it's an airship," cried one. "an aeroplane," shouted another. "he's volplaning," exclaimed dr. byrd in startled tones. "i wonder what he means. he can't be going to land here." "he seems to be in trouble," said mr. frankland. "yes, he's coming down." "look out, everybody!" shouted dr. byrd. "no telling where he'll land." there was no need of a second warning. evidently the aviator was losing control of his machine. it acted as if one wing had been clipped. suddenly, within fifty feet of the ground, the aeroplane plunged and fell with a crash and a thud less than a hundred feet from the camp fire. chapter iv the wreck and the aviator for some moments all was commotion. the appearance of the aeroplane in that out-of-the-way place and at such a time had been so unexpected as to create no little confusion, but when it plunged to earth almost in the very midst of the camping scouts, there was general panic, accompanied by a few screams of fright. every boy, as well as the doctor and the two instructors, ran for cover as the warning was sounded, but few of them found a satisfactory place before the aeroplane struck. luckily nobody was hit, and soon they gathered around the wreck in true boy scout readiness to help the injured. fortunately the aviator had not been caught under the wreckage. he had managed to jump clear of his machine before it struck the earth, so that his body was not mangled. but he lay still as death, and there was little doubt in the minds of the campers that the fall had been fatal. dr. byrd was soon kneeling over the unconscious form and examining it for signs of life. two of the boys pulled burning brands from the fire and held them close to afford him light. the examination occupied several minutes, and finally the doctor announced: "he's alive, but he's got some broken bones. one of you boys get some water. some of you make some splints, and some make a coat litter." in a moment all was activity. thirty boys cannot work together to great advantage under ordinary circumstances, but these boys were well trained and well managed. they were organized in patrols with patrol leaders, while the two instructors acted as scout masters. all of them, even bad, had learned to obey orders, and the work moved along quickly. pickles went to the stream and got some water in a coffee pot, and hal led a company into a clump of cottonwood near by to cut some splints, while others busied themselves with the preparing of the litter. the splints were made of small green limbs cut from some of the trees and shaved flat on two sides with the boys' strong jackknives. in a short time hal and his followers were back on the scene of the accident, watching proceedings eagerly and waiting for further orders. meanwhile the work on the litter progressed with equal rapidity. two strong poles were cut, trimmed and thrust through the arms of two of the boys' coats. then the fronts were drawn around over the poles and buttoned, and the task was finished. dr. byrd was a surgeon as well as a physician and he worked rapidly. he laid the injured man flat on his back, with head low, opened his clothing to aid respiration, then bared the injured parts and bathed them with water. in a few minutes the man groaned, and it was evident that he was in great pain. a further examination disclosed the fact that his right leg and two ribs on his right side were broken. dr. byrd did not set the leg at once. he merely straightened the limb and bound it with handkerchiefs and pieces of torn garments so as to make it firm at the broken point. around the broken ribs he pinned a wide bandage. "you boys are now having your first lesson in the treatment of a victim of a serious accident," remarked the doctor after he had finished his work. "sometime one of you may be in a position where you'll have to set a broken bone, and it will be well for you all to make note of everything connected with this case. first, never set a bone when the flesh around the fracture is swollen. treat it to reduce the swelling, and then set it. this man's wounds are badly swollen because of the violence of his fall. i have bound them so that they will not be irritated while he is being carried to lakefarm. now, we'll put him on the litter and start. but first put out the fire." the boys quickly obeyed, for they had been taught never to leave a camp fire unattended in a place where there was a possibility of the blaze reaching woods or prairie grass. there was little danger in this instance, but the doctor insisted on following the rule. water was carried in pails and pots and pans from the stream and poured on the fire until the last spark was gone. then the camping utensils were gathered up and the journey toward the school was resumed. mr. frankland and mr. porter carried the injured man, and dr. byrd walked beside the litter and kept watch over the patient. the latter had said little thus far, for the doctor had instructed him to lie still and not try to tell his story, as he evidently wished to do. the aviator was about thirty years old, and one look into his pain-drawn face was enough to inspire confidence and deep sympathy. he was not particularly handsome but he looked pleasant and straightforward. his body seemed well-knit and powerful. "i'll give you boys a half holiday to-morrow morning," announced the doctor as they started up the cañon toward flat head pass. "you may come back here and get the wreck of the airship and bring it back to the school." this announcement delighted the young scouts, who expressed their glee variously. the prospect of making a thorough examination of an aeroplane with such a history as this, was enough to excite their imaginations. as they proceeded, the doctor gave the boys further instructions regarding the care of an injured person. he called their attention to the manner in which the man on the stretcher was being carried in order that he might ride with the greatest possible care and comfort. "notice how mr. frankland and mr. porter are walking," he said. "they break their step so that while one moves his right leg the other moves his left and vice versa. this makes an easy pace. by walking in this manner, mr. frankland and mr. porter carry the patient along gently and without jarring." it was after ten o'clock when they arrived at the school. the aviator was taken into the "hospital," put into bed and made as comfortable as possible. the boys went to their dormitory, visited the shower baths and then turned in. next morning, in spite of their late retirement, the boys were up bright and early. several of them had dreamed of airships and awoke in the midst of various tragic situations. hal kenyon narrowly escaped being hit by the wing of a falling biplane and awoke as the machine struck the ground with a crash. those who were slow at waking were pulled out of bed by their more eager schoolmates or were driven out of slumberland with showers of pillows. but they were not angry in the least at this rough awakening and made all possible haste to prepare for breakfast. there were few servants at the "level-headed school." dr. byrd did not permit any of the boys to wear expensive clothes, even on sunday. for the week days he had selected the boy scout uniforms, which were worn constantly. this uniform, in fact, was what attracted him to the boy scout idea. in the absence of a corps of servants, the young scouts learned to perform many useful duties. they aired their own rooms and made their own beds, sewed on their own buttons, and, in shifts, helped the cook to prepare their meals. so they had various "chores" to perform both before and after breakfast on the morning following their "hike" in the mountains. for an hour and a half they were busy, sandwiching their breakfast between the tidying of the dormitory and the washing and wiping of dishes. but finally all such duties were done, and the boys were free to go to mummy cañon for the wrecked aeroplane. meanwhile they had been told that the victim of the accident was not fatally injured. aside from his broken ribs and leg he had suffered only a severe shaking up. a thorough examination had convinced the doctor that he would recover as soon as his broken bones could mend. the swelling on his leg was rapidly going down, and the doctor announced that he would probably set the limb in the afternoon. a team of horses was hitched to a wagon, and one of the boys got in and drove, while the rest walked ahead or behind. mr. frankland accompanied them. the journey was uneventful and in less than an hour they were in the cañon. the aeroplane was so thoroughly a wreck as to require almost an expert to determine what it had been originally. it had struck on a level grassy spot and had torn up the sod as if to make the earth as much a wreck as itself. a misshapen mass of splintered wood and bent struts and braces was about all that the scouts could make out. "it's hardly worth while to take that junk back with us," said mr. frankland as he gazed on the sorry-looking heap. "but since we came after it we may as well obey orders. perhaps he'll want to hold a funeral and bury his dead pet." "who is he?" inquired ferdinand sharer, commonly known as "fes" because of his fondness of carving or inking his initials, "f. e. s.," on all his personal property. "what's his name?" "i don't know," mr. frankland replied. "he hasn't done much talking yet." "gee! such a fall as that's enough to shut anybody up," exclaimed frank bowler. "yes, anybody except you," answered "fes" wisely. "you never close your face till after the chickens go to roost." "i don't, eh!" began frank; but mr. frankland put a stop to this sort of dispute by saying: "tut, tut, boys. none of that. that isn't clever." several of the boys now took hold of the wreck and lifted it into the wagon. it was a strange looking sight as they carted it over the rock road. they arrived back at lakefarm earlier than they had expected, but the boys were not required to return to their class work until afternoon. the wreck of the aeroplane was stored away in an empty shed, and the incident was closed pending an explanation from the injured aviator. chapter v lost! next day dr. byrd related an aeroplane story to the boys in the assembly room. it was the story of mr. johnson miles, the aviator who lay on a bed in the "hospital" striving to help mend his broken bones by thinking hopeful thoughts. it was a story of absorbing interest to the young scouts and afforded material for much excited conversation for several days thereafter. mr. miles had related his experiences in detail. he said that his home was in indianapolis and that he had flown all the way from that city in his aeroplane. he had already spent several weeks among and over the mountains, his purpose being to visit the rockies as a bird would visit them, and to collect specimens. "i was on my way to flathead mountain when i fell almost at its base," he told the doctor. "it was moonlight and i thought i would fly awhile, as it is really mighty pleasant to sail through the air with the moon and stars overhead. it's like racing along a lonely road in an automobile and seeing a ghost behind every post." "you have an odd idea of enjoyment," remarked the doctor. "oh, it's thrilling," declared the aviator. "the ghosts can't catch you in an automobile, and you just cut right through them in the air. "but i was forced to stay up longer than i wanted to. the country was so rough that i could find no place to land. then i found my gasoline almost gone and i knew i must glide and take my chances. the engine began to jerk and sputter and gasp, warning me of immediate danger. "that was a bad miscalculation i made regarding my gasoline. i thought i had enough to last me several hours. i had intended to fly only an hour or two by moonlight. i was right over the mountains when i discovered the condition of my gasoline, and you can imagine the state of mind it threw me into. all the ghosts i had cut through in the air hadn't begun to chill me the way this did. fifty thousand icicles stuck down my back wouldn't have been a circumstance to this. "it was so dark down on the earth, in spite of the moon, that i could hardly distinguish mountains from valleys. i was flying five hundred feet over the highest peaks, and began to glide as soon as i discovered my predicament. "presently i saw a large gulch that you call mummy cañon right below me. so i banked and circled around without realizing that i was so near the mountain i was searching for. but when about fifty feet from the ground a couple of my stay wires broke and warped the left wing. i worked my ailerons in an endeavor to balance the machine, but it was no use. down she flopped, and i leaped. i don't know how i managed to get clear of the struts and the planes, but i did, and--well, it was mighty lucky you folks were near, or i'd have died a lonely death. probably nobody would've come that way until i was food for the crows." "what became of your specimens?" inquired the doctor. "didn't you have any with you, or hadn't you gathered any yet?" "oh, my, yes!" replied miles. "i'd been in the mountains several weeks. didn't you find them?" "no. where did you drop them?" "they were in a leather bag tied to one of the struts near my seat. it's mighty funny you didn't find them." "maybe the bag was broken loose when the machine struck the ground, and was thrown some distance away," suggested the doctor. "that might be, but i should think one of all those boys would have found it when they went after the aeroplane." "yes, i should think so, too, unless it fell into a hole or behind a big rock. were the contents of the bag valuable?" "i wouldn't have taken one thousand dollars for them," said the aviator sadly. "in fact, i regret their loss more than the wreck of the biplane." "we'll make a thorough search for them," assured the doctor as he left his patient. this conversation took place shortly before noon. after dinner the boys were instructed to meet in the assembly room. there the doctor retold mr. miles' story in detail and then said: "i'm going to give you another half holiday, boys--" "hooray!" exclaimed ferdinand sharer in a loud whisper. "hold on, ferdinand. shut off your enthusiasm, for this isn't going to be an occasion of play. you have a very serious duty to perform, and i want you to go about it seriously." "we will," assured several of the boys. "yes, i know you intend to be serious," said the owner of lakefarm, with a wise shake of his iron-gray locks. "but i want you to be more than serious. i want you to use your wits, too, a little. a treasure has been lost and i want you to go in search of it; and if you don't find it, i want you to furnish a clew as to what has become of it." dr. byrd's boy scouts could no longer contain themselves. most of them just had to give vent to their feelings with loud-whispered "hoorays!" or other characteristic expressions of glee. "remember, now," insisted the master of the school just before he instructed the troop of scouts to file out; "i want you to use your heads and do some good work. that bag of relics is valuable and must be found. if it isn't lying on the ground near the place where the aeroplane struck, i want to know why. mr. porter will go with you." this was rather a large task to impose on any number of boys. to be sure, if the bag were lying near the spot in question, they ought to find it, or rather they should have discovered it already; but if it had mysteriously disappeared, how were thirty boys to conjure an explanation of the mystery? naturally this question, variously phrased, occurred to a number of the scouts as they listened to the doctor's latest words, but they were too young to ponder very deeply over the difficulty of any problem and soon dismissed this one from their minds. "you may stay until dark if it takes that long to find it," concluded dr. byrd. "now, everybody go to the kitchen and get some sandwiches that you'll find all ready. you'll all be hungry before you get back." there was no need of further urging. the boys filed eagerly out of the room, hastened to their lockers and got their drab coats, drill hats, haversacks, and hike-sticks, and then went to the kitchen for their sandwiches. in twenty minutes they were on their way. the course from the school to mummy cañon is pretty and interesting. it follows the bed of the river most of the way. this stream, named lake river by dr. byrd, varies from thirty to forty feet wide and carries considerable volume of water. it runs southward a mile and a half along the foothills, then turns westward after receiving the water of flathead river from mummy cañon. the rest of the way is up-hill, along the bank of the latter river or near it. mummy cañon is more than two miles long, its greatest width, near the center, being nearly half a mile. it is almost entirely hemmed in by mountains, there being a narrow pass at either end, north and south. flathead river has its source, or sources, high up in the mountains, and dashes down in a series of noisy cascades and cataracts, making a graceful curve for a quarter of a mile along the base of flathead mountain, from there leaping down a very rocky course to and through the northern pass. the young scouts and mr. porter walked halfway through the cañon before they reached the place where the aeroplane struck the earth. to the west arose flathead mountain, considerably lower than the other mountains bordering the cañon. from the "forehead" of flathead the mummy stood forth conspicuously. the bottom of the cañon was strewn with bowlders of every size and description. on the east, exactly opposite flathead, was a steep ascent so rocky as to permit of little vegetation save a pine or fir here and there growing from a crevice that seemed not to contain a trace of soil. high up on the ascent were poised several huge bowlders, and hence its name of bowlder mountain. on a level and treeless spot several acres in extent between flathead and bowlder mountain, the boy scouts and mr. porter began their search for the missing bag of specimens. almost in the middle of the grassy plot, the sod had been torn and rooted up by the plunging machine, and it did not take the searchers long to decide that the object they sought was not there in the open. "well, what do you think of it, boys?" inquired mr. porter. "remember, you're to do all the work and furnish all the ideas. who has an idea now?" "i have," announced fes sharer. "all right. we'll listen to ferdinand first." "i think this is all a pipe dream of the airship man's," declared fes, who was an extremely practical youth and always demanded evidence before he would believe anything. "i think he struck his head on a rock and hasn't come to his senses yet." "don't you believe he had a bag of souvenirs?" inquired the instructor. "naw," was the skeptical answer. "if he did, what became of it? it'd had to fall with the airship." "yes, if it was tied to it," conditioned juan del mar. "he says it was tied to the aeroplane," reminded mr. porter. "i think he's dreaming," insisted fes. "if he had a bag of specimens with him, it wasn't tied to the airship; or if it was, it broke loose or came untied while it was falling." "i think it came untied," declared pickles. "what do the rest of you think?" inquired mr. porter. as any thought on the subject must be largely a matter of guess, none of the boys besides fes and pickles were inclined to be very positive. all, however, were willing to accept ferdinand's explanation. "then it's up to us to search the whole cañon, or a good piece of it, around here," declared hal kenyon. several others agreed with him, although a few of the more doubtful said they were just as ready to believe that the bag had been dropped outside of the cañon. "i bet it dropped right on the peak of bowlder mountain, or maybe on the top of flathead," one boy even declared. it was now half past three o'clock, and as it would be dark early in the cañon, the boys set to work diligently to cover as much ground as possible before daylight failed them. they divided up the territory, and each boy tried to confine his search to his assignment. hal had a stretch of several acres along the creek at the base of flathead mountain. in the course of an hour he went over it thoroughly, without finding the treasured bag and hearing no joyful cry of discovery from any of the other boys. meanwhile it occurred to him that the bag might just as well have fallen into the river as any other place, and he determined to search in the water also. this required a good deal of time. in some of the wider places the stream was shallow and he could see the stony or pebbly bottom. but in other places he found it necessary to exercise greater care. he took off his shoes and stockings and rolled up his trousers as high as he could; then he waded in and began a thorough search. where the water was too deep for wading, he used his hike-stick to feel the bottom. in the meantime other boys, to whom had been assigned other sections along the creek, observed what hal was doing and followed his example. the search went along quietly, for all of the scouts were too widely separated to engage in much conversation. when they became hungry, they ate their sandwiches and drank spring water and then returned to their work. but at last it grew too dark for further hunting among the rocks, trees and bushes, or even in the open, and mr. porter called them together. the search seemed to have been in vain. the leather bag of the aviator was still lost, and nobody believed that it would ever be found, unless by accident. "well, we did our best anyway," said byron bowler. "you bet we did, bun," agreed pickles, following the general boy habit of shortening byron to "bun." "i'm tired." "so'm i," declared several others. "we'll start home now," announced mr. porter. "everybody here?" "all here," replied one of the boys, assuming that everybody had answered mr. porter's whistle. the walk back to lakefarm was quiet. the boys were all tired and found little of interest to discuss in their fruitless search. on the campus they were met by dr. byrd and mr. frankland, who inquired as to their success. "nothing doing," replied roy hendricks. "we searched pretty near the whole cañon and come back with empty hands." "yes, and we searched the river, too," repeated bun. "hal kenyon started that. we waded through the shallow places." "where is hal?" inquired pickles. "i ain't seen him all the way back." there was no answer. "what's that?" inquired the doctor. "kenyon missing? hal, step forward." there was no answer and no stepping forward. all was excitement soon. hal's name was called, then shouted by a dozen throats, and still no reply. young kenyon had disappeared as mysteriously as had the bag of specimens of the injured aviator. chapter vi the scream in the waterfall "how did this happen, mr. porter?" demanded dr. byrd sternly, yet with an unmistakable quaver in his voice. "i--i don't know, sir," stammered the manual training instructor. "i thought i heard his voice among the others on the way home." the fact was, mr. porter thought no such thing. he was merely frightened lest he be held responsible if anything serious had happened to kenyon while the boy was in his charge. he felt guilty. he knew that he ought to have called the roll to determine if all were present before starting back for the school. "did anybody see hal or hear his voice on the way back?" called out the doctor addressing the crowd of boys now gathered closely around him. no one had. "maybe he's gone into the dining-room," suggested mr. porter in an unnatural tone. "no, he didn't do anything of the sort," returned the doctor. "i've been sitting out here for ten minutes waiting for you. not a boy has entered this building in that time." there was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments, and then the doctor continued: "if anything has happened to that boy i'm going to find out who's responsible." "he was working in the river some o' the time and it's over his head, lots of places," piped one small boy in fearful accents. "oh, it's impossible for him to have been drowned," declared mr. porter. "i kept my eyes on the boys in the river all the time they were there." dr. byrd offered no reply to this assurance. he merely said: "all you boys go in and get your supper; then go to bed early." "can't we go with you and hunt for hal?" pleaded charley mason. "no. i'm not going to run any risk of losing any more of you. besides, you've done enough for one day. i know you're all tired." "no we're not," responded several. the fact is, they were well tired from their afternoon's work, but love for their lost schoolmate had a refreshing effect. but the master of the school would not yield and they were forced to do as he said. by this time mr. frankland had appeared, and as the boys filed into the wash room to prepare for supper, he was informed of the situation that had caused such a commotion. "we've got to go and look for that boy and stick to the hunt until we find him--dead or alive," almost sobbed the doctor. "oh, it can't be as bad as that," reassured the hopeful mr. frankland. "hal's a pretty level-headed boy and will be showing up with an explanation before long. i haven't known him to get into trouble yet, and nearly every other boy in the school has been in one sort of scrape or another." "i hope you're right, frankland, but i very much fear otherwise. i can't conceive of an explanation of his disappearance unless some serious accident has befallen him. but you go and find pepper and have him get the auto ready, mr. porter; and, mr. frankland, you get a couple of long-handled rakes and some lanterns. i'll get my medical and surgical cases and we'll be prepared for any emergency." pepper was soon found and instructed. a few words of explanation served to put speed in his actions, and in fifteen minutes the large touring car was backed out of the garage. no unnecessary delay was permitted by the doctor. the medical and surgical cases were put aboard and all climbed in. mr. frankland, with two rakes in hand, sat behind with mr. porter, who had charge of the lanterns, and dr. byrd took a seat in front with the chauffeur. pepperill humphrey served as chauffeur as well as janitor at lakefarm institute. he was a wise old man, always ready with "home-remedy" advice and droll humor. he could tell "bad boys" what was going to become of them more forebodingly, some said, than could any other forecaster of human events. he was peculiarly quiet on the present occasion. after receiving a twenty-word explanation from mr. frankland, he asked one or two questions and then said nothing more. his silence might have been construed variously. he was fond of hal, as was everybody else at the school, and possibly he was stunned at the news received. but he was observed several times to nod his head vigorously and to mutter in a very positive manner. the other members of the search party, however, were too much occupied with their own thoughts to ask for an explanation from the janitor-chauffeur. they rode along in silence for most of the way. the doctor had gained all the information that seemed obtainable. mr. porter, because of the criticism he had received, wished to draw as little attention to himself as possible, and mr. frankland appreciated the embarrassment of the situation. there was a fairly good road from the school to the northern pass of the cañon, including a bridge over lake river near its junction with flathead river, which ran through the cañon, and along this they advanced close to the spot where the airship had struck. here they stopped, and the search for hal was started. first they shouted his name again and again, permitting the echoes to die away after each shout; but no reply came. then they lighted their lanterns, one for each, and started in pairs up and down the bank of the river. mr. porter indicated the section of the stream along which hal had conducted his hunt for mr. miles' bag of souvenirs, and it was from a middle point in this section that search for the missing boy began. for a few hundred feet here the water was deep and comparatively quiet; but above this calmer stretch was a succession of falls so noisy as to make it necessary to shout in order to be heard. the largest and noisiest of these falls was the lowest one. dr. byrd and mr. porter went upstream as far as this cataract, and stood a short time gazing into the water. there was little comfort in the feelings that possessed them as they gazed. the falling water glittered in the yellow moonlight, seeming to shine forth with a million ghost eyes, and in the noise of that tumbling flood every now and then they heard a strange sharp sound that seemed to pierce them through. mr. porter took hold of the doctor's sleeve and drew him away. they walked some distance down stream until their ordinary voices could be heard, and then mr. porter said: "let's not begin by raking the river. if he's drowned, we can't do anything for him; but if he's injured, he needs our aid." "well, where would you suggest that we hunt first?" inquired the doctor. "in the timber and thickets near the falls. he may have gone in there and got hurt." "all right. we'll search every place you suggest before we rake the river." mr. frankland and pepper were now observed coming up along the shore, and the doctor and mr. porter waited for them. after the four were reunited, mr. frankland said: "we've covered the ground pretty well down there. everything's open and fairly level. we measured the water with our rake, too, and it isn't over a boy's head any place, although it is swift as a millrace." "if he's drowned, his body's probably in this deeper part near the falls," said dr. byrd. "we're going up in the timber and hunt there first, and then come back here if we don't find him." "it might be just possible that he waded over to the other side and was hunting along the steep base of old flathead and fell in there," suggested mr. frankland. "we'll hope not," returned the doctor; "but we'll follow that up after we've tried everything else." the timber they now proceeded to search consisted principally of spruce, pines and cottonwood growing on a slope that ascended with the bed of the stream. the soil was fairly good here, being comparatively free from small stones and gravel, but there were numerous large bowlders and rocky projections that the search-party had to climb over or around. they spent an hour and a half, walking, crawling and climbing over this difficult ground, flashing their lanterns into every hole or depression, and stopping every now and then to call hal's name. at last, considerably disheartened, they returned to the bank of the river below the falls. "let's go down to the rapids and work up," suggested mr. porter. "he was working that way most of the time i think. i saw him down there and didn't see him up here." this proposal was agreed upon, so they walked down stream two hundred yards from the largest and lowest fall and began to work up. two of the men held the lanterns, while the others thrust the long-handled rakes into the water and felt along the bank. they pushed the rakes out as far as they could and drew them in many times. on several occasions they were almost certain they had found the body of the missing boy, but their discovery proved to be only a log or a tangled mass of sticks and weeds. finally they worked up to the lower waterfall and then moved away from the roaring noise to a distance where they could hear each other talk. "the only thing that seems to be left to do is to go to the other side and rake the river bed over there," remarked mr. frankland. "yes, and if he was drowned even on that side, it'll be just our luck not to find him," said mr. porter. "the body's probably drifted into midstream and may be down past the rapids." "if we don't find him to-night, we'll come back again to-morrow and drag the river to its junction with lake river," the doctor announced determinedly. "there's something funny about them falls," remarked pepper, who had been strangely silent during the whole of the search thus far. "what's that?" inquired mr. porter, who was still nervous and easily drawn into almost any meaningless conversation. "don't you hear it?" explained the chauffeur. "that noise every little bit. sounds like a scream coming right out of the water." "oh, that's natural enough," declared the manual training instructor. "it's a twist or eddy sucking into some crevice in the rocks." "i don't believe it," insisted pepper. "many a time i've been here on sunday afternoon and set here listenin' to them falls, an' never before heard that noise." "what do you think it is--a ghost?" inquired mr. porter with an uneasy laugh. "no, sir," replied the other indignantly. "but it's something 'at ought to be looked into. we're huntin' for a missin' boy, you know." "there _is_ something strange in that sound," put in dr. byrd at this point. "i wonder what it can be. mr. porter, your explanation doesn't satisfy me." "nor me either," said mr. frankland. just then another and louder scream came seemingly right out of the tumbling flood, thrilling fearfully every member of the boy-hunting party. for a few moments everybody present stood as if frozen to the ground; then dr. byrd sprang forward exclaiming: "come on; we've got to find out what that means." chapter vii a badly frightened boy "i told 'em so. i told 'em something would happen. i warned those boys they'd get into trouble if they didn't quit gettin' so gay. hal isn't a gay one, but he can easy be a victim of a trick of one o' those careless, dare-devil kids." mr. frankland and mr. porter both heard pepper mutter thus to himself as they followed the doctor toward the waterfall whence the scream of a human voice seemed to come, but they paid little attention to his words, for they knew his peculiarities and attached little importance to his grumbling. nevertheless, pepper believed all he said, and more. only a few days earlier he had observed some of the boys engaged in tying the long grass across the path that led from the stables to the west timberland on lakefarm. then he lectured them, promising that they would come to no happy end. "you boys will be the death of somebody one o' these fine days, and then you'll begin to do some thinkin'," he declared, as he strode along, breaking with a strong kick each of the "trips" that the mischievous youngsters had prepared. "and you, frank bowler, are well nicknamed 'bad.' if you don't end on the gallows, i'm dreamin'." frank seemed to be the leader in this escapade. he would have liked to have made a smart reply to this direful prophecy, but for once in his life he thought twice. this was only one of many occasions of which the old englishman took advantage to hand out his advice. he was really a good-hearted and well-intending fellow, and no doubt did some of the boys considerable good. but there were a few of the latter who couldn't "go the old geezer," and frank bowler was one of them. why it was, he could never tell; but mr. humphrey had a "feeling in his bones" that one of the mischief makers of the school was connected with the disappearance of hal kenyon. and this was what he meant when he muttered the words overheard by mr. frankland and mr. porter. although he was the one who called particular attention to the strange sound that seemed to issue from the waterfall, he did not regard it as seriously as did the others. he was thinking more of certain boys back at the school than of the mystery close at hand. true, his wonder was aroused at the sound issuing from the cataract, but his reason would not permit him to connect that with the disappearance of hal. he was wishing that he were now back at lakefarm closeted with "some of those bad boys and sweating the truth out o' them." "i'd get it out o' them, i'd get it out o' them," he told himself over and over again after the first thrill of awe at the shrill sound from the waterfall. "whether there's anything serious happened to hal or not, i believe some o' those boys know something about it. wait till to-morrow morning, and i'll find out." pepper nodded his head and shook his fist determinedly as he spoke. he was talking vehemently now, articulating his words without reserve, for they had approached so near the noisy falls that he could not hear himself speak. but he was interrupted by another scream from the cataract. this was no louder than the last preceding, but it was more thrilling, for they were closer. every member of the searching party would have declared that only a human throat could send forth such a sound. they approached close to the cataract and gazed helplessly into the water. what could they do? it was a most astonishing and unfathomable mystery. all they could do was stand and look and listen. presently dr. byrd pulled a sleeve of each of his companions and motioned them to follow him. they started down the stream again, but soon they were halted involuntarily by another wailing cry from the same source. dr. byrd did not turn back, however, but went on after a moment's hesitation. the others followed. beyond the reach of the deafening noise of the waterfall, the doctor stopped and began to discuss the affair with trembling, hollow voice, his face showing white in the rays of the lanterns. he was not frightened, but the circumstances were unusual enough to unstring his nerves. the rest were similarly affected, even pepper experiencing a weakening of his knees as a result of the last two screams. "what in the world does that mean?" gasped the doctor. "there it goes again," as another scream, somewhat fainter than the last two, reached their ears. "can't one of you offer a possible explanation?" "maybe it's a mountain lion or a lynx," suggested pepper. "you know there's said to be a few in the mountains around here." "that's a brilliant idea," exclaimed dr. byrd enthusiastically, "or rather, it's a commonsense explanation that ought to have occurred to any blockhead. hence, what are the rest of us? i feel better all of a sudden. but no! if it is a panther--" he hesitated. "what then?" inquired mr. frankland. "it may explain, may it not, what became of hal?" replied the doctor slowly. "you mean that the beast killed him?" inquired mr. porter. "yes." "no, no, that would have been impossible. such a tragedy could not have escaped the notice of some of us. moreover, there'd have been some traces left--blood, broken bushes, and maybe torn-up sod." "yes, that's true," admitted the doctor. "but what's become of the boy? i'd face a hundred panthers to get hal back safe. my! there's that scream again. it doesn't sound like a wild animal. it's almost human." "if it's a panther or a lynx, where do you suppose it is?" inquired mr. frankland, addressing pepper. "in the rocks near the waterfall somewhere," replied pepper. "i should think we'd have seen him or have been able to locate him when we were up close," reasoned the doctor. "it's too dark up there--the fall's right in the shadow of the mountain. and the noise o' the water confuses things so you can't tell just where the scream comes from." "i can't believe any wild animal makes that noise, and i'm in favor of making further investigation," said dr. byrd. "i'm with you on that," mr. frankland announced; "but before we proceed, i propose we arm ourselves against a possible encounter." "how?" mr. porter asked. "with clubs. four of us ought to beat off a panther with good strong heavy sticks." "it's a wise precaution," the doctor approved. "let's get busy." they proceeded to a near-by thicket and there found a number of young trees that suited their purpose admirably. like the boy scouts, they too were supplied with large sharp jackknives, and in ten minutes each was armed with a club that seemed formidable enough to break the skull of a lion. then they turned again toward the cataract, advancing close to it and flashing their lanterns over the big tumble of water and the adjoining piles of rocks. but they discovered nothing that suggested an explanation of the mystery. the screams continued to come, seemingly from the fall, but it was ridiculous to believe that any living being, human or beast, could exist in that flood and, with clear, strong lungs, emit such wailing sounds of distress. for fifteen minutes they watched and listened, while the cries continued to come at intervals of a minute or two. finally, since the examination of the fall and the rocks near it produced no result, dr. byrd began to give all his attention to the cries themselves. after close and careful listening he was certain he could distinguish a feature in the cries that had not attracted his notice before. he strained every nerve in order to catch the sounds more distinctly. observing his attitude as he leaned forward and put his hand cup-shaped behind his ear, the other men followed his example and soon they too were certain they could make out a single word uttered by a human voice. "help!" it seemed to come more clearly now and was repeated several times in rapid succession. the eager listeners turned to each other and nodded their heads significantly; then they listened again as the call was repeated. but only the one word could they make out. "where are you, hal?" dr. byrd shouted this answer to the appeal, but his voice was heavy, attuned almost to the noise of the waterfall, and could hardly have been heard by the person in distress. then mr. frankland and pepper measured the strength of their vocal organs against the noise of the cataract with little better result. but mr. porter had a high, shrill voice, and when he sang out with all his strength "oh, hal, where are you?" there was a general feeling among them that the boy must have heard it. then they listened again. a reply was surely coming. it was not a single word, but several that issued from the waterfall this time. they seemed to come in the form of a sentence, but only one was heard distinctly enough to be recognized. that word was understood by all. it was "behind." "behind what?" was the question that naturally came to the minds of the listeners. but before they could conjecture an answer, there came a startling interruption that drove all thought of the mystery of the cataract momentarily from their minds. happening to turn his face away from the waterfall, the doctor beheld the dim outlines of a small human figure twenty feet away. believing it to be hal, he ran joyfully toward the boy and was followed by the other men. the object of their interest did not move. in a moment they were close to him and holding their lanterns before his face. but the boy was not hal. it was frank bowler, supposed to be back at lakefarm and fast asleep in the dormitory. and his countenance could hardly have been whiter if it had been coated with white enamel. moreover, he was trembling as if he had seen a ghost. "frank, frank, what is the matter? what does this mean?" cried dr. byrd; but he forgot that he was too near the cataract to carry on a conversation, and the boy did not understand him. just then there came another scream out of the roar of the waterfall, and frank, the boastful, fell on his knees, shaking with terror. chapter viii hal's discovery meanwhile, what had become of hal kenyon? he had had a most remarkable adventure, and connected with it was an equally remarkable discovery. during the search for the missing bag of specimens hal and frank bowler worked in adjoining divisions of the territory that was being covered. as they finished the search on their divisions they met at the lower waterfall. they gazed a short while into the tumbling water and then moved down stream until they could hear each other's voices. "i don't believe we'll find the bag," were frank's first words. "i don't believe anybody'll ever find it. i bet it's in the deep part o' the river where you couldn't wade." "maybe it's on the other side," suggested hal. "there's quite a little piece of ground over there along the river bank. it's pretty steep, but we could walk on it if we're careful." "let's go over there and hunt," frank proposed. "all right. come on." they continued on down the river to a wide shallow stony place, and there took off their shoes and waded over. arrived on the opposite side, they put on their shoes again, and as they were doing this hal said: "it'll be getting dark before long and we don't want to have to walk along this steep place when we can't see plain. let's go up to the other end, at the fall, and work down this way." "all right," agreed frank. so they picked their way over stones and through bushes and patches of stunted fir trees, sometimes finding it necessary to hold onto a bush or a rock in order to keep from slipping or losing their balance and plunging into the river. but they reached the cataract and then halted again to look around them. there was little more than standing-room for them at this point. this standing-room, however, was level and comfortable. it was close to the fall, which proved even more magnificent from this side than from the other. the rocks were piled high and wonderfully poised, and the water fell from a lofty height and roared thunderously on the rocky bed in the deep basin below. both of the boys had a great desire to talk as they gazed on the beauty of this scenery, but the noise of the falls drowned out their voices. so they had to content themselves with gazing and pointing their fingers and nodding their heads eagerly. as they stood there they made a new and interesting discovery that caused them to forget their purpose in crossing the river. at the near edge of the cataract the downpour of water was extremely thin, so that the boys could look behind. hal's notice was first to be attracted to this peculiarity. soon he was standing as close to the fall as he could get with safety and was gazing wonderingly into a cavernous space beyond. observing his attitude, frank stepped near and looked over his shoulder. then hal put his lips close to his companion's ear and shouted: "bad, there's a cave back there!" frank nodded understandingly, and hal continued in the same manner as before: "do you see that thing on the floor of the cave? it looks like a leather bag. maybe it's the one we're looking for." "it can't be," frank shouted in hal's ear. "how would it get there?" kenyon pointed to a huge projecting rock just over their heads. "it might have struck that and glanced off through the water," he replied. hal was now convinced that they had discovered the object of their search. his first impulse was to run back and inform dr. byrd, but a boyish ambition made him hesitate, and that hesitation was perhaps to be blamed for much of the trouble that followed. as he lingered, this thought came to him: "wouldn't it be glorious if we could get behind the waterfall, explore the cave, and come out and report our double discovery to the owner of lakefarm and all the boys?" the idea was so tempting that he was unable to give it up. the ledge behind the fall was about nine feet from the edge of the flat rocky precipice on which they stood. now, if he only had a plank nine or ten feet long, he could easily bridge the chasm and walk through the thin spray of water right into this wonderful cave. instinctively he looked about him for something that would serve as a bridge, and what was his astonishment to discover the very article he was wishing for. projecting from a thicket near by was the end of a piece of lumber. he went over and pulled and found it loose. it was a plank twelve inches wide and ten feet long. "my!" was his exclamation, drowned by the waterfall. "we're not the first to find this place. somebody else is using that cave for something and he's had this plank here to cross over on." this certainly seemed to be the natural and only logical explanation of the presence of the heavy piece of lumber in the bushes. at least it would serve the desired purpose, and hal prepared to thrust it across the chasm so that an end would rest on each ledge of rock. frank understood quickly what his companion had in mind and stood ready to help him. the plank was heavy, but hal was strong, and with a well-calculated effort he placed it in position and kept his balance. "now you hold this end while i cross over," he screamed into frank's ear. "but don't you try to come over." frank nodded eagerly. he had no intention of obeying, but said nothing. he got down on his knees and placed his hands on the plank. there really was no need of this, but it was a natural request for hal to make, as he would feel safer with a pair of hands steadying the unanchored bridge. it was now dusk in the cañon and rapidly growing dark. probably this is one reason why the doings of these two boys were not observed by any of the other members of the searching company. however, the view of most of them was shut off by the high bluffs and rocks near the waterfall and the rest were at a considerable distance away or in hollows or depressions or beyond growths of timber. hal stepped onto the plank and moved out over the chasm toward the thin spray and the cave beyond. meanwhile frank's brain was working rapidly. he was thinking of the glory that hal was winning and he was losing. why should they not share the glory alike? as soon as his companion reached the cave he also would cross on the plank, walk right through the roaring waterfall and maybe carry back the coveted treasure in his own hands. "oh, wouldn't that be great!" he exclaimed exultingly. "how the other kids'd look at me. and if any of 'em got too fresh, i'd just clout 'em on the jaw." frank actually executed the vicious swing of "clouting" some youngster as he spoke. the result was thrilling, but not what the youthful terrorizer would have wished. he was half kneeling, half sitting in an awkward and cramping position, and as he swung his fist on an imaginary jaw, he lost his balance, and his feet slipped from under him. one heel struck the plank violently, and over it tipped, then with a swing, slipped under the waterfall and was shot down into the chasm. and bad almost went with it, but he caught himself at the edge of the precipice. for a moment he lay there and looked over. then he remembered hal. he was gone. he must have followed the plank into the whirling pool below. in an ague of horror he crawled back a few yards and staggered to his feet; then with one terrified look behind him, he started on a wild run along the steep shore, sobbing hysterically as he ran: "oh, my! oh, my! i've killed hal! i've killed hal! oh, what will i do? what will i do? i'll be hung, i know!" he arrived at the place where they had crossed and dropped down and pulled off his shoes and stockings. as he was thus occupied he continued his fearful forebodings: "pepper said some of us bad boys'd end on the gallows, and i know he meant me. he could look right through me. i always felt it. he's the first one to call me 'bad,' and then the kids did. "yes, i know i'll be hung if--no, i won't either. nobody saw us. i won't tell. i'll keep it to myself, and nobody'll ever find out." he crossed back to the other side and in the dusk saw the boys gathering a few hundred feet away. mr. porter had called them a few minutes before with a whistle blast, but frank had not heard it. still resolved to guard his terrible secret, frank hastened to join the other scouts. fortunately it was now almost dark and none of them could see his face plainly, or they would have noticed how pale he was. as a rule he was talkative, but now he did not speak at all, except to give the shortest possible answers when addressed. one or two of the boys, observing his unusual manner, asked him what was the matter and he made no reply. all the way back to the school he walked by himself, lagging a little behind much of the time, as if tired, in order that he might not be forced to talk. he was afraid to talk. it was all he could do to keep from crying. by the time they reached the school he had lost his nerve and decided that he must tell somebody all about it. he could not bear to keep the secret any longer. but no suitable opportunity offered itself to speak to the doctor or mr. frankland. he might have taken one of the boys aside and told his story to him, but frank could not remember one of his schoolmates whom he had not threatened to "clean up" or "clout in the jaw" at one time or another. even bun his brother, whom he had threatened with a "paste on the blinker" only the day before, might censure him and tell him he ought to be hanged or be sent to jail. so frank did not tell his story when his strongest impulse to sob it out possessed him. he went with the rest of the boys into the wash room and then into the dining room and ate his supper in silence. his face was not so pale now, but his peculiar manner was observed by several. however, it was thought that he was dejected, as were many others, over the fate of hal kenyon, and nobody embarrassed him with questions. after supper the boys were sent off to bed. mr. frankland and mr. porter usually had charge of this "good night" watch and slept in the dormitory, but on this occasion mrs. byrd and the matronly cook superintended affairs. once or twice frank almost yielded to an impulse to confide in the doctor's wife, but his general dislike for both girls and women held him back. frank and byron slept together. dr. byrd had not spared his money in constructing the buildings of this mountain school, and for every two boys there was a separate room, neatly and comfortably fitted. they were all outside rooms, with a window for each, all on the first floor, so that it would be easy for the boys to escape in case of fire. byron was tired and could hardly keep his eyes open until he got into bed. he was so tired that he hardly noticed the unusual silence of his brother; or if he did, he attributed it to the same cause that made him sleepy. as for frank, he never was more wide awake and had no idea of sleeping. he sat down on a chair and began to undress slowly, but there was a reason in his slowness. he was watching bun constantly out of the corner of his eye and his nervousness was greatly relieved when he saw his brother fall into bed and to sleep almost instantly. then frank stopped undressing and sat quietly for a few minutes watching the boy in bed. soon the latter's heavy breathing announced that he was fast asleep, and the young watcher drew on his trousers again. he worked rapidly now, drawing on his stockings and shoes, and putting on his coat and hat. then he moved toward the window, which was open in accordance with the health ideas of dr. byrd. with another hasty glance at his slumbering brother, frank put both legs over the window sill and dropped to the ground, a distance of only a few feet. then, like a flash, he straightened up and ran over the lawn toward the road. the moon was shining and the boy concealed his flight as much as possible by keeping under a row of balsam poplars along the east edge of the campus. after leaving the shadow of these, he found it necessary to break into the open, and he ran down the road toward the river with all his speed. it was a wild-looking figure that raced along the trail toward mummy cañon that night. half a mile from the school a small animal shot out from a clump of junipers and darted across his path just behind him. believing it to be a wildcat, he doubled his speed, too much frightened to think of stopping, although his hat was whiffed off by the wind. his hair was rather long and it was blown in disorder. like a scary horse he shied at every large rock, dark hollow, or ghost-like stunted spruce or fir. up hill and down he ran, through ravine and along the precipice of a hollow known as "baby gorge." colorado nights are cool, even in the summer, and he did not become overheated. a few times he was forced to stop and walk for want of breath, but as soon as he recovered, on he went at the best speed he could make. he was a sturdy youngster and stood the test. at last he reached flathead pass and hastened through, over a ledge of rock along the bank of the river. another quarter of a mile, and he was able to see the lights of the lanterns of the hunters for the lost boy. on he ran, and as he neared the party ahead, he realized tremblingly that they were near the fatal waterfall. now he began to wonder what he should do. he had had no plan in mind when he started out; all he could say to himself was that he must be present and watch the search. he did not intend to reveal himself, but wanted to be near when the body of hal was taken out of the water. frank approached as near to the men by the waterfall as he thought safe. he stopped behind a clump of bushes and peered around to watch proceedings. presently the doctor and his companions moved away from the cataract and stopped within a few feet of the bushes, and there the boy heard their excited discussion regarding the cries that seemed to issue from the falling water. then he saw them cut a club for each and advance again toward the place of mystery. the watching boy was intensely thrilled by what he had heard. the suggestion that possibly the screams were those of a panther or a lynx added a new element of fear to the situation. but as he heard the strange sound repeated again and again, he dismissed all thought of a wild animal. "it's hal's ghost, i know; it can't be anything else," he chattered; and without knowing why, he left his place of concealment and started toward the waterfall. a dozen paces from the men he stopped, fearful of announcing his presence, yet half hoping he would be discovered. just then dr. byrd turned and saw him. chapter ix hal a prisoner "oh, he's dead! hal's dead, and that's his ghost screaming!" moaned frank bowler as he writhed in mental agony at the feet of dr. byrd. the latter stooped and lifted the boy gently to his feet. then he took him by the hand and led him down stream beyond the noise of the waterfall. "nonsense, frank. if that's his voice, he's alive and very lusty, and we're going to get him out as soon as we find out where he is. but what does all this mean?" "no, no, that's his ghost; i know it is," insisted the boy still wildly. "don't let them hang me, dr. byrd! don't let them hang me! i won't do it any more." "won't do what any more?" "threaten to clout anybody on the jaw," sobbed frank, who now for the first time that evening found it possible to shed tears, and they came in a flood. but at last he found his voice between sobs and continued. "i kicked the plank and he fell down in the waterfall. he's drownded; i know it. i saw him fall. please, doctor, don't let 'em hang me." "get that out of your mind, my boy," reassured dr. byrd. "nobody's going to hang you, whatever you did. they don't hang boys of your age. but i don't understand you." this reassurance that he was not in danger of the gallows gave the boy better control of himself and he was able to tell his story less hysterically. through a series of pointed questions the doctor finally drew from him all the details regarding the discovery of the cave behind the cataract and hal's attempt to get into it, and then he announced: "well, the mystery is explained at last. don't worry, frank. hal isn't drowned. he's safe behind the waterfall and we'll get him out as soon as we can." "but i saw him fall," insisted the boy, his eyes staring wide with wonder. "no you didn't," replied the doctor. "it was your imagination that caused you to think you saw him fall. he was probably on the ledge beyond the cataract and staggered as he stepped from the plank." this was the true explanation, and takes us back to hal when he was entrapped. he saw what his companion had done and attempted to reassure him that no serious damage, beyond the loss of the plank, had resulted; but frank darted away in terror almost instantly. hal watched the fleeing boy with puzzled amusement at first. he could not understand why he should have run away so hurriedly. he did not know that frank believed he had killed his friend, but supposed the impetuous lad was hastening away for assistance. however, it seemed strange that he should not have tried to tell hal his intentions. having no fear as to the outcome of his adventure, hal began to look about him. but the cave was dark, except close to the roaring water, and he was able to see but little. he was afraid to venture far back lest he step into a pit or over an underground precipice. so he decided to wait where he was until help arrived. presently his eyes fell again on the supposed bag of souvenirs, and he stooped over and picked it up. yes, there was no mistake about it; the object was a bag of soft leather and contained half a peck, seemingly of small stones or quartz. the string, run through a dozen eyes near the opening, was tied, and as it was too dark to see, he did not open it. help would come to him in a few minutes and he would turn the bag over to dr. byrd for further inspection. but help did not come in a few minutes. half an hour passed and hal began to wonder a little. he had reasoned out an explanation of frank's sudden departure, so that had ceased to puzzle him. frank was very impetuous, and undoubtedly had realized at once that it would be useless, on account of the noise of the waterfall, to attempt to talk with the prisoner, so he must have decided instantly that the only thing for him to do was to run for assistance before it became too dark. but as the shades of the cañon grew heavy and no rescuers appeared, hal became uneasy. probably an hour had elapsed since he was trapped in this place, and he was becoming alarmed. what could have happened to frank? had he fallen into the river and--no, that could not be. hal had watched him until he passed the deep part and sat down near the fording place to pull off his shoes and stockings. frank had crossed the river, no doubt. another half hour elapsed and the prisoner was ready to give up hope for the night. something had happened to prevent frank from carrying the news to mr. porter, or else it was deemed too dark to attempt a rescue at once. the west shore was pretty steep and a single misstep in the dark might plunge one into the water or onto the rocks, ten, fifteen or twenty feet below. possibly some one had been sent back to the school for lanterns. several times he wished he had some matches in order that he might explore the cave and examine the contents of the leather bag, but dr. byrd never permitted his boys to carry any. the buildings of the school were lighted by a small electric plant connected with the shops, and they were heated with steam pipes and radiators, so that there was little call for the use of matches on the part of anybody at the school. moreover, the doctor had absolutely forbidden the use of cigarettes at lakefarm, and matches are very necessary to the habit. the waterfall was almost as effective as a stone wall would have been in shutting from view the light of the moon in the cañon. however, from the point where he had crossed over on the plank he could look out and see dimly the shadowy contour of the mountain. then, gazing upward at an angle, he could see a few stars shining dimly. hal spent some time gazing out through this opening. at first he looked for the approach of rescuers, but as time grew into more than an hour and nobody appeared, he continued to gaze because it was more pleasant to do so than to rest his eyes on the darkness of the cave. once only he yielded to an impulse to make an exploration of his prison. this he did because he had become extremely tired of standing in one position so long. indeed, he was almost ready to pitch over into the falling water when he finally dropped to his hands and knees and began to feel about him. the floor of the cave was fairly smooth, but so damp that his trousers and underclothing became wet to the skin at the knees in a short time. this, however, did not bother him, and he continued his exploration for several feet back. satisfied with this he arose to his feet and went through a few simple calisthenic exercises that he had learned at lakefarm. this warmed him up and he returned to the edge of the cave. he would have been glad to lie down and sleep until morning, but the uncomfortable dampness of the floor and the fear of catching a bad cold caused him to remain erect. how much longer he continued to stand and look out, principally at a handful of stars, he did not know. it was a monotonous occupation, and he found it wise to stand back several feet for fear lest, in a moment of dizziness or drowsiness, he lose his balance and pitch forward and down with the falling water. suddenly, however, he became very wide awake and attentive, for several lights were approaching some distance down stream on the right shore. apparently they were lanterns. at once hal surmised correctly who carried them and was certain that they were coming to his rescue. probably frank was with them, he further reasoned. but when he saw the lights separate, two coming upstream and two going down, he was puzzled. what could this mean? why did they not ford the river at once and come up on the other side? here was the only place to help him out of his prison. he could see the lights of dr. byrd and mr. porter until they approached close to the cataract, when the falling water shut off his view of them. they remained out of his sight, however, for presently they walked down stream again, stopping near the rapids. the light of their lanterns made their forms fairly distinct. presently hal saw the other two men from down stream rejoin them. he looked closely for a fifth member of the party, a boy, but was disappointed. as he observed the four now engaged in a seemingly puzzled discussion, the waterfall prisoner decided that it was time for him to do something to attract attention. was it possible that they did not know where he was? the idea seemed ridiculous; and yet what other explanation of their manner and actions could be given? so he let out a lusty scream, and then watched for its effect. apparently it had none, so he gave another and another. the men continued their discussion, paying no attention to his cries. hal guessed that the sound of his voice was drowned in the noise of the waterfall. this conclusion threw him into despair. all sorts of direful forebodings now crowded his brain. maybe frank was drowned after all, and the searching party was looking for both of them. if this was true, they would drag frank's body from the river, while he, hal, would be left to starve to death behind the cataract because he was unable to make his presence known. this fear set him almost wild, and he continued to utter scream after scream, until his throat became so irritated that he had to quit. then he caught some of the falling water in his hand and drank it and his throat felt more comfortable. meanwhile the entire search party came upstream again and disappeared, remaining out of hal's sight a long time. during the entire hour and a half that they spent in the timber, the boy kept up a succession of screams and cries for help. naturally the uncertainty of the situation had a depressing effect on him, but he set his teeth and would not give up. daylight surely would bring hope. but daylight was many hours off. finally dr. byrd and his companions returned within hal's range of vision. he saw the lights and the men move down the river, and watched them as they raked the bed of the stream along the shore, but could not make out what they were doing. he continued his cries for help; he pitched his voice in every possible key, instinctively realizing that certain keys were more readily drowned in the roar of the waterfall than others. then followed the puzzled discussion over these cries, and it was not long before the boy knew that he had attracted attention. he saw them approach the cataract again, then go back, engage in another discussion, cut some clubs in a thicket, and return once more to the waterfall. they passed beyond his vision, as on former occasions, and before long he caught mr. porter's shrill "oh, hal, where are you?" "behind the waterfall," replied the boy in his highest pitch. but he put most stress on the first word, which was the only one caught distinctly by the rescuers. then hal witnessed the discovery of frank, who was standing just within his range of vision. as the light of the lanterns was thrown on that frightened youth's face, hal saw him fall down before the doctor, who picked him up and led him down stream, while the others followed. from this moment he watched proceedings with new sensations of wonder. he could see that frank seemed to be telling something to the men. but they did not listen long to his story. they seemed suddenly to decide on a course of action; they walked farther down the stream to the fording place where two of them pulled off their shoes and waded across, still carrying the lanterns. one of them also took with him one of the rakes, which hal supposed to be merely a long pole. they reached the western bank and climbed up on the steep shore. then they picked their way carefully toward the cataract. hal was certain now he was about to be rescued. his cries for help were no longer needed, and he waited in silence. the two men's progress along the difficult shore was slow, but finally they reached the flat rock close to the waterfall. by this time hal could distinguish the features of the two men in the light of their lanterns and also observed that the "pole" carried by pepper was a rake. the man with pepper was dr. byrd. on reaching the rock, the janitor-chauffeur hooked his lantern onto the rake and extended it toward the fall. finding the thin section of the cataract, he thrust it through and hal seized both lantern and rake eagerly. disengaging the light from the garden implement, hal was about to pass the latter back when he caught sight of a piece of paper tied to it. he set the lantern down, broke the string around the paper, and spread out the latter close to the lantern, taking care lest he tear the wet note-book leaf. then he read the following: "mr. frankland and mr. porter have gone back in the automobile for some planks to make a bridge. can you make yourself comfortable in there until morning? answer. dr. byrd." chapter x the mystery of the leather bag after reading the doctor's note, hal picked up the lantern and swung it around so as to get a wider view of the cave. he was able to see the wall at the other edge of the cataract, but was not sure of the depth of the cavern. then he set the lantern down again and searched his pockets until he found a piece of white paper and a pencil. for a few moments he cast about him for a hard, smooth surface on which to lay the paper, but the best he could find was the plain flat handle of his pocketknife. with this on his knee and bending close to the light of the lantern, hal laboriously inscribed the following: "i'm all right till morning. i'm going to explore the cave." he tied this note to the rake and reached it back to pepper. then he waited for the answer he saw the doctor preparing. it came presently and was as follows: "be careful and don't fall into another trap. we're going back to the other side. maybe we'll try to get you before morning." hal saw the two men depart and then turned his attention to the dark depths of the cavern. the floor was smooth, though irregular. the mouth opening upon the waterfall was about ten feet wide, but the passage narrowed somewhat further in. here it made a sharp turn to the right, and hal followed the passage a hundred feet, when he was stopped by a wall of earth and rocks. there was no further exploration to make, for this was the end of the cave. hal flashed his lantern all around and above, but could find nothing more of particular interest, except the general formation of the cave. he was not certain that he could see the ceiling. at one place particularly there seemed to be a black void above. the right wall of this part of the cave slanted upward like the side of a steep hill. moreover, this side was jagged and irregular, so that hal was certain he could climb up some distance. the other side hung over like a huge cliff, slanting at the same angle. "this looks like a big crevice in the rocks," mused the boy as he gazed up and around him. "i wish some more of the boys were here with lanterns. i'd like to hunt till i found something worth coming here for. it looks like a shame to have such an adventure as this and find nothing. "oh, yes," he suddenly remembered; "there's the bag of souvenirs. i haven't examined them yet. i'll go back and see what they are." so he turned to the mouth of the cave and set the lantern down on the floor, while he stooped over and untied the string around the opening of the leather bag. pulling it apart, hal was soon fingering a curious collection of many sorts of stones and quartz, some of which shone brilliantly in the light of the lantern. "my! they look as if they might be worth a fortune," exclaimed the boy as he picked up one after another and examined them eagerly, "for mr. miles said he wouldn't take a thousand dollars for them." as he had nothing else to do, hal continued to examine the curios for some time, becoming more and more impressed with their novelty. some of them evidently had been altered in shape by the hand of man, particularly a few that looked like indian amulets, and hal was convinced that the collector had visited some deserted pueblos or cliff houses. "dr. byrd said mr. miles had spent some time in the mountains," he mused: "and i bet he can tell some interesting stories of the places he's been in. when he gets well enough to be around, i'm going to ask him to tell us all about his adventures. he must have had some with that airship in the mountains." hal's meditations and his interest in the contents of the leather bag were interrupted finally by the reappearance of lights approaching along the river bank. he drew the string tight around the receptacle and tied it. then he awaited the approach of his rescuers. as they came near, he saw that they were bearing two wide planks, one man at either end of each, the leaders carrying the lanterns. evidently they had decided not to wait until morning before attempting to release the boy from his strange prison. finally they reached the flat rock near the waterfall and the two planks were laid across the intervening space between the shore and the cave. hal adjusted his end of the planks so that they rested firmly; then he picked up the leather bag and his lantern and walked across the bridge. without further delay, they turned and walked down the stream again. no attempt was made to discuss the affair until they had forded the river and returned to the stage road near which the automobile had been left. hal was then the first to speak. "where's frank?" he inquired. "we took him back to the school and put him in bed," replied mr. frankland. "evidently you could see and recognize him from behind the waterfall." "yes," answered the boy. then he continued: "it wasn't his fault that i was trapped behind the fall. it was all an accident. he slipped and hit the board with his foot." hal's companions were amused at this unconscious charity toward frank. if there had been light enough they probably would have winked at each other. in his fear of the gallows, the former youthful terrorizer had confessed just how he happened to kick the plank into the waterfall and, as he thought, dropped hal to a fearful fate. with little delay, except to crank the machine, they all got into the automobile and soon were bowling along the stage road. as they were leaving the cañon, dr. byrd inquired: "what kind of place is that cave, hal?" the boy gave a brief description of it; then he added: "it's a dandy. it isn't so awfully big, but it's big enough; and it's so different from most caves." "you didn't find any rubies or garnets or streaks of gold there, did you?" inquired mr. frankland, nudging the boy, who sat beside him in the back seat. "no, but there might be something of the kind. i wish we could go back with lots of lanterns and examine the place carefully." "i think we'll forget all about that cave for a while at least," announced the doctor with an air of decision. "it came near proving a fatal discovery, and i feel like waiting until i've had time to get over this scare." hal had offered his suggestion rather doubtfully, for he felt that a scolding was due him and frank for their boldness in crossing the river and continuing their search along the steep shore on the west side. however, the adventure had proved successful, for the lost bag of specimens had been found; so the boy did not feel nearly so much like a culprit as he would have felt in the face of failure. but the doctor said nothing more that might sound like criticism. he was too thankful for the discovery and rescue of the lost boy for that. presently the talk was changed to the bag of specimens. naturally much wonder was felt because of the place where it had been found. hal explained his theory that in falling from the aeroplane it had struck a slanting projection of rock and bounded into the cave. "of course that's barely possible," said dr. byrd; "but it's hardly probable. i can't get away from the belief that the bag did not break loose in the air." "you think it fell to the ground with the aeroplane?" hal inquired. "yes. why not? i can't conceive what force could have broken or pulled it loose before the machine hit the ground. did it just happen to come untied from the strut at that time? barely possible." "how did it get into the cave then?" asked mr. porter. "somebody put it there if it didn't fall there," volunteered pepper. "of course," said the doctor. "somebody _might_ have put it in the cave," agreed hal reflectively. "we weren't the first ones to discover the place." "how do you know?" inquired dr. byrd quickly. "by the plank we found in the bushes. it was there for a bridge, that was plain. somebody's been using the cave for something." exclamations of surprise greeted this information. "did you find anything in the cave that tended to prove your suspicion?" asked mr. frankland. "nothing except the leather bag." hal hoped that his suggestions would arouse the interest of dr. byrd to such an extent that he would decide upon further investigation, but he was disappointed. if the owner of lakefarm felt any such desire, he failed to express it. on their arrival at the school, the automobile was run into the garage, and then a general move was made for their bedrooms. while the doctor explained matters to his wife, hal and the two instructors had gone to bed. the noise hal made in entering the dormitory and walking along the hall awakened bun bowler, who was sleeping with his brother frank. eagerly bun slipped out of bed and peeped through the slightly opened doorway. "oh, they've brought hal back," he said to himself. "i wonder where they found him." had it been frank he would have yelled out a congratulation, in spite of the lateness of the hour and the rule requiring quiet in the dormitory, but byron crept quietly back into the bed. as he crawled over his brother--frank always insisted on sleeping in front--the latter gave a start and a jerk and cried in a voice of terror: "i won't do it any more! i won't do it any more! i won't threaten to clout anybody in the jaw--never, never again!" chapter xi convincing bad. the next day was one of rejoicing among the boy scouts of lakefarm. if there had been any doubt concerning the popularity of hal kenyon, that doubt surely was gone now. the fact that his parents were poor made no difference with any of his schoolmates. indeed, dr. byrd would not have permitted any feeling against hal on this account. there would have been trouble instantly. the news of hal's return spread rapidly soon after sun-up. it was communicated principally in the wash room, accompanied by a wild rumor of the manner in which he had been entrapped. some one started a story that hal had been a prisoner in a robbers' cave and was rescued only with much daring and danger. frank's connection with the real adventure remained in darkness. nobody, except hal, dr. byrd, mrs. byrd, the two instructors, pepper, and frank himself, knew anything about it, and there had been a general agreement that it was wisest to keep the matter secret. hal and frank both slept late that morning. the doctor gave orders that they should not be awakened until they had "had their sleep out." while the others were eating breakfast, mr. frankland went to frank's room and found the latter dressing. the boy's eyes were red and swollen from weeping. he searched the face of the instructor carefully, and then inquired, with trembling voice: "did you find him, mr. frankland?" "certainly," replied the latter reassuringly. "and did you get him out?" "you bet we did." "alive?" "alive." "and is he here--alive?" "he surely is," declared mr. frankland, the smile on his face broadening. frank was so overcome with relief that for several minutes he was unable to continue his dressing. a stocking that he had been in the act of putting on dropped to the floor, and it seemed that he could not reach down and pick it up again. he had been ready for this announcement, and yet it was hard for him to believe that it was true. he could not get rid of that picture of hal falling with the water onto the rocks at the foot of the cataract. it was so real that only the sight of his friend standing before him would convince him that his eyes had not fooled him. "come, frank; hurry up and get dressed, and i'll take you to hal and show him to you," urged mr. frankland, still with a smile of amusement. this promise renewed frank's energy, and he picked up the stocking and pulled it on. then he slipped on his shoes and announced that he was ready to call on his rescued schoolmate. they stepped out into the hall and walked several doors toward the farther end. hal's door was slightly ajar, and mr. frankland pushed it wide open and they walked in. hal was still asleep. frank stepped forward, like one in a trance, and placed one hand on the face of the sleeper. suddenly hal's eyes opened wide and he sat up in bed. he recalled everything immediately, as his first words indicated: "hello, bad; i'm all right. why, what's the matter?" and no wonder! frank had fallen forward on the bed and buried his face in the counterpane. the relief of the truth was too much for him. mr. frankland had not realized the tenseness of the nervous strain under which the boy was laboring, or he would have proceeded more carefully. "frank, what _is_ the matter?" repeated hal, himself half alarmed. the other boy sobbed on for a minute or two, and hal threw off the bed clothes and sat on the edge of the bed. then he shifted his gaze from frank to the instructor and back to the boy again. but finally frank got sufficient control of himself to choke down his sobs, and he arose and wiped his eyes with his fists and said: "i----i thought sure you was dead, hal. how--in the world did you get out?" "out o' where--the cave?" inquired the older boy. "no, out o' the water." "out o' the water? i wasn't in the water." "you wasn't?" frank's eyes opened very wide again. he had been assured of this before, but it was as incredible from hal. still with a wondering look in his eyes and disbelief in his voice, he continued, putting one hand on his friend's left arm: "hal, i saw you fall. you went down, down. i saw you, oh, i did." the other laughed outright. the laugh was so merry and hearty that presently frank wasn't so sure of what he had seen as he thought he had been. then hal gave his delusion a further jar by saying: "no you didn't do any such thing, frank. i didn't fall at all. is that what made you run away so fast? it was getting dark, you know, and maybe there was a shadow in the water that looked like me falling." "that must have been it," declared frank with a big sigh of relief. then he laughed hysterically, for the picture in his memory had changed. instead of a falling boy, he saw a shadow, or a dark-colored patch of water, in the tumbling flood. that settled it. frank recovered his nerve, but he was a much quieter boy for several days after. he was fourteen years old, his voice had already "changed," and he was begging permission from his parents to wear long trousers on "dress" occasions; hence, it was no wonder that such an experience as he had recently gone through should convince him that it was about time for him to mend his ways. lakefarm was a comparatively tame place for several days following the happenings in mummy cañon. after the affair had been thoroughly discussed by the boys and nothing more of interest could be found, the subject was laid aside and picked up only now and then. the bag of specimens was returned to its owner and little more was heard concerning that for some time. but the aviator, mr. miles, continued to be of interest, for the boys looked eagerly forward to the time when his broken bones would be sufficiently mended to enable him to be among them and tell them stories of his adventures. the summer program in the school was more of a vacation series of doings than anything else. some book work and shop duties were required each week, but these were really a relief from the long succession of outings and excursions that filled the greater part of the summer program. among the favorite sports at the school were baseball and swimming. the campus and the lake were therefore scenes of much activity in the warmer months. all things considered, it was a lively time the boys at lakefarm school had the year round. because of these activities, the young scouts looked forward with little interest toward vacation-time. most of them spent the christmas holidays at home, but few remained away from the school during the whole summer season. at the time of the beginning of these events, the vacation weeks were more than half gone, and the absentees were fast returning. a special program, including an excursion to the grand cañon of the colorado river, was scheduled for the latter part of august and the early part of september, and most of the scouts were expected to be present for this. the boys of lakefarm were skilled in mountain climbing. it was their experience in this line that emboldened hal and frank to hunt along the steep bank of flathead river for the lost bag of specimens. however, dr. byrd's policy on all mountain-climbing excursions was to avoid steep and dangerous places, and he felt that he had good reason to scold them for taking such a chance. on the day following the imprisonment of hal in the waterfall cave, the doctor summoned all the boys into the assembly room and lectured them. he told them he had thought his instructions from time to time in mountain climbing had impressed upon them sufficiently the importance of judgment in their excursions among the hills. finally he wound up by saying: "it seems that some of you boys need another lesson on this subject. so our next outing will be a mountain climb. we'll have to give you some more advice as to where to go and what places to avoid. as soon as the other boys get back we will go over and climb porcupine hill." "and see aunt sarah jane," whispered pickles to ferdinand loudly enough to be heard by all in the room. dr. byrd smiled. he expected some such eager demonstration. aunt sarah jane turman was an aged woman who lived with her husband on the very peak of the mountain. porcupine hill was one of the lower mountains of the neighborhood, being just west of flathead and affording the best view of the top of the latter. aunt sarah was an interesting character, a kind-hearted nurse, ever thoughtful of the welfare of her friends and acquaintances. most of the boys had been up there several times and every one of them adopted mrs. turman as his aunt on beholding her pleasant face and hearing her cheery voice and eating some of her "dandy" bread covered with a liberal supply of homemade jam. so the doctor's lecture closed with anything but an unpleasant announcement, the fulfillment of which was to prove of considerable importance in the chain of events that made notable that summer at lakefarm, mummy cañon and flathead mountain. chapter xii airship plans the climb up porcupine hill was not made as soon as most of the boys had hoped. several weeks elapsed and the program that had been mapped out by the doctor was too full for any additions. meanwhile all the absent boys of the school returned, and the trip to grand cañon was taken. only one-fourth of the boys took this trip this year, it always being reserved for the fourth-year, or senior, pupils. hal kenyon was one of the eleven boys who visited these wonders of the colorado river on this occasion. and on his return he was so full of the delights of the scenery that mummy cañon and flathead were for a time of minor interest. but in time their old fascination returned. the cave behind the waterfall at no time ceased to be an object of much interest to him, and he was continually wishing that something would put it into dr. byrd's head to make a thorough inspection of the cavern. and if this were done, hal naturally hoped that he would be one of the inspectors. meanwhile the broken bones of aviator miles mended rapidly. as soon as it was deemed safe, he was permitted to leave his bed and hobble around on crutches, his leg still in a cast, however. from the time of his first exit from the hospital, he was an object of much interest to the boys. they gathered around him at every opportunity and begged for stories of his experiences, and he usually had something of absorbing interest to tell. he told them that he had been among the rockies from yellowstone national park to the grand cañon for two months before his accident, and he exhibited before their eager eyes his collection of stones and quartz that hal had discovered in the waterfall cave. "but they're not all here," he remarked as he poured them out on a newspaper that he had spread on the lawn in front of dr. byrd's home. he was seated on the grass while a score of boys stood around in eager attention. "where are the others?" inquired fes. "i don't know," replied the aviator slowly. "there were six pretty fair sized gold nuggets in the bag when i fell; or they were there a few hours before, and i don't see how they could have disappeared." "i didn't see any when i opened the bag in the cave." hal volunteered this information, but the sentence was finished with a different tone of voice from the tone at the beginning. in the midst of his statement he suddenly realized the importance to him of the disappearance of the nuggets, and a lump arose in his throat, so that he could hardly finish what he started to say. everybody noticed the change in kenyon's voice, and all looked at him as if for an explanation. conscious of his seeming self-betrayal and of the inquiring glances directed at him, he blushed with confusion. the aviator suspected at once that these were signs of guilt. but hal knew better and flashed back a look of scorn and indignation at his silent accusers. recovering his natural tone, he said in a cool, measured voice: "i don't know what became of those nuggets. they certainly were not in the bag when i opened it." most of the boys believed in hal and were convinced by this sturdy statement. mr. miles, however, was not convinced, although he did not like to hold any suspicion against a boy who had impressed him so well. but he saw nothing to be gained by embarrassing kenyon at present. "well," he said; "this isn't the only mystery connected with the affair. i'm just as curious to know how the bag ever got into that cave." "you think somebody put it there?" hal inquired. "being an invalid and unable to get around very conveniently, i haven't been able to inspect the place yet. but from all descriptions received, i'm in need of more evidence to convince me that it bounced in there by accident. in the first place, i'm dead certain it fell to the ground with the aeroplane." "maybe the strut it was tied to was what broke and made you fall," suggested hal. "it wasn't a strut at all that broke. it was a couple of stay wires. the struts couldn't break under any but the most extraordinary circumstances." "are you goin' to fix up your aeroplane again, or get a new one?" asked hugh messinger. "oh, nothing can be done with that pile of junk. you boys might as well burn the wood and tote the steel framework into your blacksmith shop." "are you going to quit flying?" asked byron bowler. mr. miles looked with keen amusement at the last questioner and replied with a wink: "do i look like a quitter?" he surely didn't, although forced to stop for several weeks with some broken bones. miles was a sturdy, determined-looking man, with firm-set jaw and clear bright eye that gave no hint of hesitation. "what you going to do? buy another airship?" byron persisted. "i've bought one already." "you have!" eagerly exclaimed several of the boys. "where is it?" one of them continued. "it's on its way out here." "out here!" this exclamation also came in chorus from half a dozen astonished boy scouts. "yes," answered the crippled aviator; "it's on its way out here. but it isn't put together ready to fly. it's in the knock-down. i'm going to give you boys the job of putting it together." "oh!--when will it be here?" asked one enthusiastic youngster. "in a week. dr. byrd and i had several talks about the matter, and he's decided to let you boys have the job. i won't be strong enough to do much on it myself, but i'll be on hand and boss." "what kind is it going to be?" asked pickles. "like the one you fell in?" "not exactly. it'll be a biplane, but a much better one than the ozone." "what's the ozone?" inquired ferdinand. "that's the name of the biplane i fell in. the new one will carry two passengers besides the operator." "oh, ain't that fine!" cried glen juza. "it's just swell. and can we all have a ride?" "oh-ho," laughed miles. "i thought it would come to that. but it really isn't up to me to decide. i might say yes, and dr. byrd might say no. he probably would." disappointed looks and expressions followed this prophecy. the doctor's pupils could just as well have predicted such an outlook without the assistance of older heads, but they were naturally optimistic. "but don't be discouraged, boys," added the aviator. "your time will come sooner or later. maybe you'll be afraid to go up with me when you see the airship all finished. it--" "yes we will!" "i wouldn't!" "you don't know me!" were some of the brave interruptions. "it won't look very safe," was the aviator's warning. "pretty thin and flimsy." "i don't care; i'll go up in anything you will," cried frank bowler, who had listened to the conversation in silence up to this time. he was gradually regaining his former nerve and bluster, but his voice did not yet have a natural ring. "what will the new aeroplane look like?" asked hal kenyon. most of the boys by this time had spent their enthusiasm and settled down to quieter attention. seated on the grass, they waited eagerly for the answer to kenyon's question. by this time a good crowd of boys had joined the audience. "i may as well give you your first lesson in aeroplane building right now," began the aviator, shifting slightly to ease his crippled limb. "first, do you all know what a biplane is?" "it's an airship," said one. "no, it's an aeroplane," corrected another. "what's the difference between a biplane and a monoplane?" interposed mr. miles. this was a puzzler for most of the boys. after several had answered and flunked, hal kenyon spoke up: "a monoplane has one plane, and a biplane has two planes." "what is a plane?" "a flat surface." "good," complimented mr. miles. "you know a little geometry. the planes are the wings of an aeroplane. "now, the aeroplane will be built on this plan: the part that will interest you boys most will be the cabin. as i said, it will carry two passengers comfortably besides the operator. and it is to be so arranged with an automatically shifting weight that these passengers can move about without disturbing the balance of the ship. "this will really be an airship. the ordinary aeroplane is not entitled to such a name, for it is merely a skeleton without any body. this vessel will have a real body, made mostly of aluminum, except the glass windows and ports. the front, or prow, will be blunt in accord with the latest ideas of air friction. the front and rear of this cabin will be supplied with flexible slides that may be slipped around to the sides, leaving the front and rear open. this will remove practically all resistance, except for perpendicular rods six inches apart, giving the cabin something of the appearance of a cage. "in cold weather, or in high altitudes, these slides can be closed and the cabin warmed with a small alcohol stove. otherwise there will be little remarkable about the ship. you will all be interested in such details as the motor and the steering and weather apparatus. you will learn all about the altitude barometer and the anemometer, or speed measurer. in other words, you will absorb a lot of information on air navigation while putting this airship together." "how about that weight?" hal questioned as the instructor in aeronautics paused. "you say it shifts automatically. can you explain that so we can understand how it keeps the ship from turning over?" "i'll try. the floor is of a flexible material. as one walks here and there, it is pressed downward and by means of a delicate mechanical device, shifts a weight on a rod. the shifting of this weight alters the angle of the ailerons at the ends of the wings and prevents the machine from tipping out of balance. understand?" blank looks on every face before him advised mr. miles that he had been too technical for the boys, so he added: "you'll understand easily as you advance in the construction of the vessel. but possibly this may give you a hint of what i am driving at: changing the angles of the ailerons has the same effect in an up-and-down direction, as turning a boat's rudder has from side to side." still few of the boys understood what he meant, although hal kenyon and one or two others believed they did. later, when he found an opportunity, hal, with pencil and paper, made some drawings and studied over them and altered them until he was certain that he had a clear idea of the plan. then he took his last drawing to mr. miles and explained it to him, and the aviator told him he was right. chapter xiii the "painter" a few days later the promised trip up porcupine hill was taken. an early start was made, the forty-four boys of the school, clad in semi-warlike uniforms, looking like a company of young soldiers as they marched over the hills to the south and west toward the mountains on the right of mummy cañon. meanwhile hal, by his frank and straightforward manner, established himself in the confidence of miles so well as to remove all doubt as to his innocence regarding the disappearance of the nuggets. the mystery remained still unsolved, but it seemed certain that any suspicion directed toward hal was entirely unjust. porcupine hill was four miles from lakefarm. the easiest ascent was on the southern side, but to reach this it would be necessary to travel an additional two miles around the base. on that side it was more than two miles to the peak, and this was the course generally used by those dwelling on the peak and the side of the mountain. on the opposite side the ascent was shorter and much steeper, and this was the route taken by the boys whenever they went up to see aunt sarah jane. mr. and mrs. turman were real uncle and aunt of two of the boys of the school, byron and frank bowler. the aged couple were always glad to receive their two nephews and their friends, and took pains to make them feel welcome. fifteen years before, while prospecting, they had discovered a vein of gold near the peak and had staked out claims. but finding gold on a mountain peak and mining it profitably are two different propositions, and they found it necessary to do some sharp engineering of various sorts. a company was formed and incorporation papers taken out. then followed negotiations with various moneyed interests and an entanglement that tied matters up. since then nothing of importance had been done. when he found that he was not going to make his fortune in the mine, "uncle sam," as mr. turman was familiarly known for miles around, desired to move to jimtown or some other settlement in the valley; but aunt sarah jane had been cured of rheumatism in this high and dry altitude, and she was afraid it would come back if they moved below. so they continued to live on the mountain peak in their cabin of slabs and rude timbers made warmer in winter with banks of sod and straw heaped close and high around the foundation. it was a picturesque place, with everything crude but neat, clean, and comfortable. the boys always enjoyed going up there. the view was wide and magnificent. several towns were visible, nestled here and there in the valleys or on the hillsides. at night their lights shone prettily in the deep-down distance. on one occasion while some of the boys were on the peak, they witnessed a storm several hundred feet below them and marveled at the novelty of looking down upon banks of clouds with lightning flashing among them. so the boy scouts had much of interest before them when one fine morning early in september they set out in a body to climb porcupine hill. the ascent began over a slowly rising ridge of ground that ran along the base of the mountain, then led directly up the steep incline for some distance, and finally lost itself in a winding trail that curved among and about rocks and bushes and projecting cliffs. the climb, because of its winding nature, was much longer than a straight course would have been, so that nearly two hours were spent between the base and peak. the boys were equipped with luncheons, water canteens, hike-sticks, a few cameras and field-glasses. for climbing footgear, they wore heavy swiss hob-nailed shoes and gaiters. their clothes were of strong, coarse material that would stand much wear and resist the tearing pulls of shrubbery and briars. aunt sarah jane was delighted to see them. it was the first time all the scouts of the school had been up there together. at noon she brought out some tablecloths and spread them on the grass and invited the boys to prepare their dinner picnic style. hal and byron took the burro belonging to mr. and mrs. turman and rode halfway down the southern side to a neighbor's well and filled two large canvas bottles with water. these they hung over the burro's shoulders by a strap connecting them and then began their journey back up to the peak. the mountain was thickly wooded on this side, but the surface was rough, and the trail consequently very winding. only one of the boys rode at a time on the return trip; when one became tired, the one on the burro dismounted and permitted the other to ride. in this manner they had gone half of the return distance, when suddenly something happened that added a new sensation to their mountain experiences. just as they were rounding a bluff in a sparsely wooded spot, a dark object darted across their path, causing the burro to give a jump so sudden as to throw byron from its back. like an arrow from a bow, the slow and sleepy beast shot up the side of the mountain, leaving the boys to the tender mercies of the cause of its fright. at first the two scouts were only astonished, for they could not imagine any more dangerous animal in that locality than a wildcat. there were said to be a few of these in the mountains, but they were shy and fled at the sight of man. this beast, however, was larger than a wildcat and did not seem to be disposed to run at the sight of the boys. it was a slender long-limbed, cat-like animal, with reddish-gray fur. after springing across the path, the beast turned and seemed to hesitate, as if not knowing whether to pursue the burro or to direct its attention toward the boys. "what is it?" byron asked as he clung tremblingly to his companion. he had been severely shaken by his fall, but not seriously injured. "it's a mountain lion," replied hal with all the steadiness of voice he could command. being older and larger than byron, he felt that the responsibility of the situation rested on him. "let's run," proposed the smaller boy, tugging at hal's sleeve. "no, we mustn't do that," replied the latter. "if we stand still and don't seem to be afraid, he may go away and leave us alone." hal now had good reason to congratulate himself on his industry during his three years at lakefarm. he had found much of interest in the doctor's library, reading everything that appealed to his taste. among the books that he most enjoyed were illustrated natural histories, and it is little wonder that he recognized now the kind of beast before him, although he had never before seen one. he remembered also that these books had informed him that mountain lions are not so fierce as commonly thought, that they usually hunt at night and are cowardly and little to be feared unless cornered. the puma was only a few rods away from hal and byron, who stood close to the bluff that formed a turning point in the path. for more than a minute boys and beast stood facing each other, neither moving. byron wished to run and continued to pull at his companion's coat-sleeve, but hal, relying on his book information, stood firm. presently the beast backed away. "see? what did i tell you?" exclaimed the older boy gleefully. but his exultation was somewhat hysterical, indicating the strain he had undergone. the puma backed slowly at first, but presently his retreat became more rapid. then suddenly he turned and, with a few bounds, disappeared among the pine trees. hal was now willing to run, and both boys started out at their best pace up the trail. the ascent was not very steep here, so they ran some distance before they were too tired to go farther. then they stopped and looked back, and, seeing no sign of the lion, they rested a while. then they took things a little easier, but they went faster than they would have under ordinary circumstances. a short distance from the top of the mountain, they were met by all the other boys, dr. byrd, mr. frankland, mr. porter, and mr. and mrs. turman, who were much excited. the burro had returned alone and with more speed than it had ever been known to make before. naturally this caused alarm, and a general rush was made to investigate. hal and byron excitedly explained what had happened. then followed a rapid succession of questions and answers until all the details of the adventure were told. finally aunt sarah jane added a new element of interest by saying: "maybe it was the painter i saw over on flathead one day. it was early in the morning and i saw some kind of animal moving about over there. but it was so far away i couldn't make out what it was. i thought at first it was a man." chapter xiv building the airship fortunately the waterbottles had been well saddled on the burro, and it carried them safely to the top of the mountain, in spite of its wild flight from the lion. everything now being ready, the troop of scouts returned to where the luncheon had been spread and sat around and ate. of course the lion was the chief subject of conversation at the dinner. mr. and mrs. turman both declared they were surprised at its appearance, as they had not heard of any of its kind in that part of the country for several years. naturally, too, the statement of mrs. turman that she had seen a moving object that might have been a man on top of flathead directed some interest toward that mountain. "it seemed to be walking erect like a man," she said in reply to further questions; "but it might 'ave been the painter. i couldn't make sure what it was. i wish i'd had a pair of glasses like some of you boys have." "i've heard it said that there's some cliff-dwellers' houses over on that mountain," volunteered uncle sam. "i don't know where the story came from, for there's nobody around here now that's ever been up there. i don't see how anybody could climb that mountain." "let's examine it with our glasses," suggested byron, who had a pair slung over his shoulder. half a dozen binoculars were quickly unslung, and the holders were soon searching the singular upheaval of stones and earth more than a mile to the east. "i see something that looks like some houses right in the side of the mountain," announced byron. "oh, yes, there are some cliff houses," replied mr. turman. "there's a big hollow place right in the side of the mountain about thirty feet up. there's a regular cliff there, and you can see where pieces of wood were driven in to make a ladder to climb up." "is that so?" dr. byrd exclaimed in surprise. "i never knew that." "yes; there's no road or trail along that side of the mountain and hardly anybody ever goes near it." "well! this is a surprise to me," declared the doctor. "i thought i knew this country pretty thoroughly, but it seems that a very important feature has escaped me." mr. frankland and mr. porter knew just as little, and the faculty of the school at once decided that a trip of investigation should be made in the near future. a search of the plateau, or mesa, on flathead, with the aid of the glasses, produced little result of special interest. the doctor expressed considerable surprise on finding it so large. there was a patch of timber on the farther half, while the nearer half was made up of several hills and ravines and a few rocky elevations and bluffs. "i'd give a good deal to get up there and examine that mesa," said dr. byrd. "we might find something interesting. there's a glittering spot near the middle that looks as if it might be water shining in the sunlight." "i know how we can get up there," hal announced with sudden eagerness. everybody turned toward him. "how?" asked pickles. "in mr. miles' airship when it's finished." "that's a brilliant idea," laughed the doctor. "well, hal, if anybody besides mr. miles himself makes that trip, you ought to be allowed to." "can i?" kenyon asked eagerly. "no, of course not. i was only joking. really, i'd like to see you all make the trip, but you know it's out of the question." three hours were spent by the scout company on the top of the mountain. they visited the shafts that had been sunk by the aged miner and heard him tell of how wealthy he might have become had it not been for people who schemed against him. they traveled over every foot of the wooded peak, making note of curious formations and conditions and gaining much information. then they set out on their return, making the descent a little to the west of their ascent. during all their stay on the mountain and their return to lakefarm they kept a keen lookout for the panther, but saw nothing of it. "when mr. miles gets well and his new airship is finished, maybe he'll hunt the mountain lion like an eagle," suggested hal to several of the boys on the way down. "my! wouldn't it be great if we could go with him," said lee huff with explosive enthusiasm. "if they don't chain me to the earth, i don't see how i'll keep from running off with the airship," said frank bowler. "yes, you'd do wonders, you would," pickles sniffed. "he'd likely turn acrobat and tumble into the cañon," hal suggested. "then he'd he stuck up on flathead for another mummy," chuckled ferdinand. "aw! close your face or i'll clip you one," frank snapped, a little provoked. he was forgetting his voluntary promise not to make any more such rash threats. if dr. byrd had heard this threat, doubtless bad would have been reminded of his resolution. they arrived at the school without further incident, and next day the aviator listened to a chorus of stories of their experiences on the mountain. when the suggestion was repeated that he hunt the mountain lion in his new airship as soon as it was finished, mr. miles replied: "that's a good idea and i promise you i'll follow it." but the sportsmen of the town were not content to sit idly by and wait for an injured stranger to recover, build an aeroplane, and carry off such rare game, together with all honors. no sooner did they hear of the presence of a puma in the neighborhood than hunting parties began to form and to scour the mountains in search of the big cat. several days went by but the results were uniformly unsatisfactory, for no trace of the puma was discovered. the boys of the school desired to take part in the search, but dr. byrd would not grant permission. he did not regard it safe for so many boys to be at large in the mountains with guns, and no guns were kept at the school. they would have been glad to take part in the hunt with clubs and bows and arrows, for they were skilled in the use of the latter, but the doctor did not take kindly to this suggestion either. meanwhile the parts of the new airship arrived at the school. they were carefully crated and were conveyed over the government road from the nearest railroad station in two wagons. it was a day of much excitement when they arrived, interest in the mountain lion being almost entirely eclipsed. then the work of putting together the parts of the novel aeroplane began. perhaps forty-four boys never before worked so industriously. there was little use of expecting them to do much of anything else during the period and consequently dr. byrd wisely suspended temporarily the ordinary routine of the school. the institution was transformed into an airship factory for several days, the work progressing slowly in order that a thorough study of aviation might be made along with the mechanical construction. finally the task was completed, and a temporary hangar was put up at one corner of the campus. in fact this structure was the last, or finishing shop of the factory, for it was here that the final preparations for flying were made. mr. miles was able to walk with the leg that had been broken, but he still used a crutch, and did little but superintend the job. one morning the new air vessel was wheeled out of the hangar and onto the campus, and as the forty-four boy scouts circled around and gazed upon the result of their work, a ringing cheer of triumph awoke the echoes of the distant hills. "fly, mr. miles, fly!" yelled one youthful enthusiast. "not yet," replied the convalescent aviator. "wait until these bones mend good and solid, and then i'll soar around those mountains like an eagle. i'll explore flathead and i'll find the mountain lion too, if he hasn't left this part of the country." chapter xv stolen wealth there was special reason why dr. byrd should feel more than ordinary interest in mr. miles. both of them had long been enthusiastic collectors of souvenirs and curios of many kinds, and it was not long after their first meeting that each of them discovered the similarity of their hobbies. they were together frequently thereafter, both in the hospital and out of it. they talked of the places they had visited and the sights they had seen and the curios they had collected until it seemed almost that they must have been companions in all their travels and all their hunts. then dr. byrd pulled out some of his trunks, opened them and disclosed a wealth of treasures such as caused the eyes of the aviator to stand out big with astonishment. this treasure was not so remarkable in money value, perhaps; but it was indeed wonderful in novelty and abundance. an idea of the nature of this collection may be presented by a description of a few samples. one of them was an oriental jewel casket of engraved rock and crystal mounted in enameled silver. two other articles of special interest, because of their rarity, were a set of checkers made of sharks' vertebrae and an "eye" from an egyptian mummy case. this eye was made of bronze and black and white marble. a long chapter could be devoted to a description of the doctor's collection. as he exhibited them to mr. miles he handed over for inspection some abalone pearls of california, blister pearls of ceylon, a necklace of fluorescent amber from sicily, jade ornaments, smoky quartz, brazilian crystal balls, topaz from the ural mountains, petrified wood, moss agate, rainbow agate, bloodstone from india, sardonyx from uruguay, a texan jasperized wood ornament, a jasper tray from the ural mountains, fire opals, norwegian sunstone, and an enameled talisman necklace. undoubtedly dr. byrd valued this collection much higher than a disinterested authority would have valued it, but there is little doubt also that it would have brought a considerable sum even at an auction sale. nevertheless, the owner of lakefarm could not throw off something of an air of sadness as he was exhibiting his treasured gems and curios. "two years ago," he remarked to the aviator, "i could have shown you a collection that would have opened your eyes much wider. i then had a dozen other stones that were worth several times as much as all of these together, but they were stolen." "did a burglar break in?" asked mr. miles. "no, i wouldn't feel so badly if they had gone in such manner. but it was a trusted employe that took them. he had been a teacher at the school for a year and i grew to like him exceedingly. he was really a brilliant fellow and i admired him. in fact, i gave him my full confidence. at the end of his year he resigned, and a few days later i discovered my loss." "couldn't you find him?" inquired mr. miles. "certainly. that's what made it so hard to prove anything against him. he was the smoothest kind, all nerve and calculation." "how do you know he took them?" "didn't you ever know anything you couldn't prove?" replied the doctor slowly. "i knew who stole those gems the instant i found them missing. immediately i saw his excellent qualities in a new light. he was an extremely clever hypocrite." "did you meet him afterward?" "no, i never saw him again. i put it up to the police. i told them of my suspicions, but couldn't give them any information that tended to fasten guilt on maxwell any more than on anybody else." "maxwell was his name?" "yes. the police worked a while on the case, but gradually gave it up. then i wrote to maxwell and informed him plainly where my suspicion rested. "he wrote a reply full of indignation and reproach, but it didn't ring true. i've noticed the smartest rascals seem to be unable to seem entirely innocent when they know they are suspected. it's a remarkable study, criminology. and yet, it's as simple as a-b-c." "in what way?" "everything's simple when you understand it, i'm ready to believe. if we could learn the secret of the universe, we'd be astonished to find out what a simple proposition it is." "you're getting pretty deep," smiled miles. "perhaps i am. but i'm confident that the effects of dishonesty on the dishonest person are similar to the effects of the use of an untrue square in the construction of a building. he absolutely can't help growing out of plumb. when you appreciate that rule, you will understand how i knew that maxwell committed the theft." it was months after the resignation of rodney maxwell before the boys of lakefarm learned of the stealing of the gems, and then the information came to them in a vague manner. pepperill humphrey let the first hint drop, and the curiosity of the young scouts would not let him alone until he revealed some more of his information. pepper had many good qualities, but he was very talkative, and did not require much pumping to set him going in earnest, and soon the secret ceased to be a secret. the conversations between the doctor and mr. miles on the subject of their collections led to a move highly pleasing to the boy scouts of lakefarm. dr. byrd had several times expressed a desire to explore the cave behind the waterfall, where the aviator's lost bag of souvenirs had been found. to both of them this cave was a place of some mystery, and naturally they felt considerable interest in a solution. "i'd like to know how that bag got in there," said the doctor one day. "and the first step toward finding out must consist of an inspection of the cave and its immediate vicinity." "i agree with you," returned miles. "i'd like to go with you when you inspect the place, but it'll be a week or two before i can stand any vigorous exercise." "it seems to me that you're entitled to accompany the first expedition of discovery," continued the doctor slowly. "but, as you say, you won't be able to move about in a lively manner for some time. now, i have a plan. it's been working in my mind for several days, and i've about decided to put it into execution. "it is this: mummy cañon is really a remarkable place. it's a wonder to me that it hasn't been exploited as a resort long before this. i'm seriously considering, mr. miles, a plan to purchase the whole of the cañon from the government and to enter on an extensive real estate project. "of course i'll incorporate, but i propose to retain a controlling interest in the stock company. i'll buy the land, get out my incorporation papers, and then invite some eastern promoters here to look at my proposition. "i'm dead sure the thing could be made a success. the d. and r. g. railroad is about to run a short line this way, and with a little advertising we'd soon have all the people out here we could take care of. a hotel, some cottages, and conveniences for sportsmen and sight-seers ought to start things humming. "and the cave would be an important attraction. but it must be made accessible. so i have planned to give the boys a little experience in bridge and road engineering. i want to construct a foot bridge over the river near the rapids and dig a walk along the steep western bank right up to the cave. i would put up railings to make it safe and a well-protected bridge from the bank through the fall into the cave." "that's a great idea!" exclaimed miles, enthusiastically slapping his sound leg. "when are you going to begin work?" "in a day or two. i've so nearly decided to put the big scheme into operation that i've already begun action on the smaller one. the lumber for the bridges and railing will be delivered at the cañon to-morrow." "good! i'm heartily in sympathy with the work. the boys will like it too." "oh, i've had the boys in mind all the time," declared the doctor warmly. "the young scouts of lakefarm, i intend, shall have much to do in the building up of mummy cañon. the work will be full of lessons in engineering, construction and business." of course the boys were delighted when they were informed of this plan. the doctor did not tell them of the larger scheme he had in view, as that was not yet fully decided upon. a few days later work was begun. the lumber had been delivered at the shallow place near the head of the rapids, which was the place selected for bridge number one. the stream was wide at this place, but this width suited the purpose of dr. byrd the better, for he desired a task worthy of the efforts of forty-four energetic boys. first, it was necessary to put in foundations for the abutments and supports of the bridge. this was done by gathering stones and bowlders and wedging them in place as securely as possible. then followed the task of sawing the timbers into proper lengths, according to plans that had been prepared under the supervision of mr. frankland and mr. porter. this done, the frame work was put up and the planks nailed down and the railings placed. it was really a very satisfactory piece of work. first of all, it was stable and safe to walk upon. second, it presented a neat appearance. third, the boys had done it all themselves. the bridge was finished in two working days. the doctor, in mapping out the program, provided for alternate days of work at the river and study at the school, so that three days elapsed before the bridge was completed. then another day was spent at their books, after which the boys returned to the cañon and began making a level foot-path along the steep western bank of the river. this was done in short shifts in order that the work might be pushed rapidly without fatigue. half a dozen picks and shovels were kept swinging vigorously and the way the earth and stones went flying into the river said the work would soon be done. two weeks after the starting of the work on the larger bridge the entire work was finished. there was a strong railing on the river side of the path and a narrow well-protected bridge through the waterfall to the cave behind. it was nearly night when the last nail was driven, and as they had no lanterns with them, it was decided not to explore the cave on this occasion, but to reserve this inspection for a special excursion on a later day. that evening at lakefarm, however, something happened that was destined to bring about a decided change in the program with reference to this plan. the person most affected was hal kenyon. it meant trouble for him and some extremely perilous adventures for some of the boys. in the wash room hal drew a handkerchief from his pocket, and as he did so something heavy and metallic hit the floor. several of his schoolmates heard the sound, and pickles sprang forward and picked up the object. as he did this, hal also made a spring and attempted to snatch it away from pickles. the latter, however, with no uncivil intent, edged away, at the same time gazing eagerly at the small, heavy object in his hand. "oh, hal, it's gold!" he exclaimed. "where did you get it?" "what's that?" inquired a voice that chilled kenyon through, and, looking up, he saw mr. miles advancing toward them. he had discarded his crutches and was using a cane. he held out his free hand toward pickles, who, like one hypnotized, delivered the object of interest to the aviator. the latter looked at it eagerly for a moment, then fastened his eyes on hal with searching gaze. "boy," he said sternly after a moment's silence; "this nugget is mine. i thought you said--" he did not finish the sentence, for hal's face had become so pale that it seemed as if he was going to faint. chapter xvi flight if mr. johnson miles had charged him of theft with a loud voice, hal could not have felt the accusation more keenly than he felt it in the aviator's look and tones. and the worst feature of the situation was the fact that the finger of circumstantial proof pointed directly at the boy. at first, almost overcome with dismay, hal suddenly realized the injustice of the suspicion against him, and stiffening with anger, he blazed forth: "what do you mean, sir? do you mean to say that i stole it?" mr. miles did not answer the question. he merely looked stern and asked another, while a score of boys gathered around, gazing on the two with startled wonder. "can you tell me where you got it?" inquired mr. miles. "yes, sir, i can," hal replied defiantly. "i found it in the cave." "where you found my bag of souvenirs?" "yes, sir." "why didn't you turn it over to me with the bag?" "because i didn't find them at the same time. i found that nugget to-day after we finished the bridge through the waterfall." "why didn't you say something about it? why did you hide it in your pocket and keep still? a boy would naturally become pretty excited on finding a gold nugget." "i didn't hide it in my pocket," was hal's choking reply. "i didn't know what it was and just stuck it in my pocket." "why didn't you throw it away?" "it wasn't like an ordinary stone. it was heavy, and i wanted to look at it in the light." "where are the rest of them?" "what do you mean?" "i mean the other nuggets," said the aviator with continued sternness. "there were six in the bag." for a moment hal's eye blazed with indignation; then his spirit seemed to collapse. the implied charge and the suspicious circumstances were too much for him. "i don't know," he said hoarsely, and with a furtive glance at the boys around him, he walked out of the wash room. hal was late at supper that evening. in fact, there were only a few left at the tables when he entered the dining room. he took a seat at a table alone and ate in moody silence. he felt bitter and wished he could leave the school never to return, although no experience in his life had ever been more pleasant than his three years at lakefarm. this was the second time that suspicion had been directed toward him regarding the disappearance of the aviator's nuggets, and now he could see no possible way of proving his innocence. unluckily, he had had no idea of the real nature of his find until walter hurst pronounced it gold and the owner appeared on the scene and claimed it. after supper he went gloomily to his room and sat down and waited to be summoned to the doctor's office. of course, mr. miles had gone straight to dr. byrd and informed him of the scene in the wash room, and the owner of lakefarm would soon call hal to account. but no call came, and hal soon found himself imagining all sorts of direful explanations of the seeming inactivity. probably the doctor had sent for the town marshal to come and take the nugget-thief to jail. or possibly the owner of the school had decided to have nothing more to do with this bad boy and was even now writing to his father to come and take him away. in a short time hal had worked himself up to a very nervous and unhappy state. then he began to plan wildly how he might escape the undeserved punishment that he saw ahead. "if i could run mr. miles' airship i'd fly away in it," he said bitterly. "and it'd serve him right, too. he didn't have any business to condemn me without a hearing. he might have given me the benefit of the doubt until i'd had a chance to prove i was innocent. but i couldn't prove anything with him looking at me that way." "hello, hal, what's the matter?" pickles, his roommate, interrupted his unhappy reverie with this cheery interrogation as he entered the room. pickles was a quiet little fellow who seldom took anything very seriously and had a habit of stealing on one and surprising him with an unexpected "boo!" hal started visibly on this occasion, much to the glee of pickles. "what's the matter?" repeated the smaller boy as he observed the glum look on hal's face. "nothing," was the half surly reply; "only i'm goin' to run away." "run away! hal! what for?" "don't speak so loud, pick," cautioned hal. "yes, i've really made up my mind. i'm going to-night; and i want you to keep my secret." "oh, hal, you mustn't," pickles gasped under his breath. "what would i do here without you? you're the best friend i've got." kenyon was surprised. he had had no idea that any of his associates regarded him with such affection, and this manifestation moved him not a little. "pickles," he said warmly; "you're a peach of a kid. i've never got mad at you since i first met you, and you've never got mad at me. that's sayin' a whole lot. some kids you've got to get mad at every minute to keep 'em from walking all over you." "bad, for instance." "yes--and no. bad's a bad one unless you know how to handle him. we've always been good friends, and i like him." "so do i, but he's mean sometimes. i like bun better. but what you going to run away for, hal? is it the nugget?" "yes--and mr. miles. he thinks i'm a thief. and so do all the rest." "i don't, hal, if you say you're not," declared the faithful walter. "pickles, you're the best fellow on earth," said kenyon warmly, stepping close and putting both hands on his friend's shoulders. "you almost make me feel like sticking. but i can't." "why not, hal?" "everybody--excepting you--thinks i'm a thief, and i can't prove i'm not. so i'm just going to cut loose. some day i'll come back and prove i'm innocent." "i'm sorry i picked up the nugget, hal. i wish i hadn't told what it was. but i was so surprised i couldn't help it." "that's all right, pick. it wasn't your fault. i don't blame you a bit." "when you goin', hal?" "to-night--just as soon as everybody's asleep." "where you going--home?" "i don't know. maybe; maybe not. anyway, i'll write home and tell mother and father i didn't steal." "let me go with you, hal." "no, pickles, you mustn't think of doing such a thing. you must stay here and tell them all i'm not a thief. oh, pick, it's terrible to be called such a thing. you don't know how i feel about it. your father's rich and mine's poor, but i wouldn't steal if i was starving--any more'n you would. even when i was selling newspapers in denver and making only half or quarter of a cent on each paper, i couldn't think of stealing. i'd run a block to catch a man if i found i'd given him the wrong change. i'll write to dr. byrd and tell him all about it, for i'll have to thank him for what he has done for me." "hal, i'll do anything you want me to, but i'd rather go along. if you'll wait, i'll write to my father and he'll come here and fix everything up for you." "no, it's all settled what i'm going to do," hal answered determinedly. "you stay here, and when i get settled in a job somewhere, i'll write you." "well, it's half an hour till bedtime," said pickles. "i'm going out till then." "don't give me away." "i should say not. you'll be here when i come back?" "yes." walter slipped softly out of the room, as was his custom. in the library he found fes sharer and whispered a few words in his ear. then the two started out on a hunt and soon rounded up bun and bad. the four chums then held a whispered conference out on the lawn. as they separated, pickles said: "remember, in an hour, under the big poplar." half an hour after bedtime, three boys might have been seen to slip out of a window of the dormitory to the ground. it was dark, the stars twinkling sharply in the clear sky. swiftly they sped away from the building, along the edge of the campus and two hundred yards beyond, until they came to a great tall tree, whose abundant branches and foliage hugged close and tapering to the trunk. there they stopped, sat down, with the tree between themselves and the school, and whispered excitedly to each other. ten minutes later another dark form emerged from another window of the dormitory and took a similar course. he carried a bundle under one arm. hardly had he left the shadow of the school buildings and the bordering trees when another youth slipped from the same window and followed him. the three forms under the tree hugged close to the ground as the boy with the bundle passed within twenty feet of them. presently the fifth boy reached the tree and the three forms under it stood erect. "come on," beckoned the last youth, and all four started in pursuit of the one ahead. presently the latter heard a footstep behind and threw a startled look backward. with a half-choked cry of astonishment, he broke into a run and fairly flew along the road that led toward mummy cañon. chapter xvii exploring the cave "hal! oh, hal! stop! this is pickles." hal stopped almost as suddenly as he had started to run. he recognized the cautious cry of his friend and waited for the four to overtake him. "what you kids up to?" he inquired, after scanning the faces of the quartet. "i told you not to come, pickles." "we're not going to run away with you," he replied. "we're just going to walk a ways and then go back." "i'm glad to have you come, but you might get into trouble." "no, we won't," declared frank with something of his old-time boastfulness. "we can get back any time before morning and nobody'll ever see us." "where you going to-night?" inquired ferdinand. "to the cave first." "in the cañon?" "yes, i want to see if there's any more of those nuggets there." "you haven't any light," reminded byron. "no, but i've got some matches." "i know where the lanterns are," frank announced. "they're in the garage, and i can crawl in through the window. let's get them and explore the cave." "yes, let's do," ferdinand said eagerly. "come on, bad. you and i'll go an' get the lanterns, while the rest wait here for us." no objection being offered to this plan, frank and ferdinand made a dash back toward the garage. they were gone about fifteen minutes and returned with four lanterns. then the march toward the cañon was taken up. of course, there was much excited talk on the way. every one of the self-appointed committee that was "seeing hal off" expressed confidence in his integrity and all were highly indignant at mr. miles' suspicions. "he'd better go take a jump in the lake," said byron with unwonted vehemence. "he's got no 'preciation of what you did for him." "yes, if it hadn't been for hal, he'd probably never have got any of his specimens back at all," observed ferdinand. "somebody ought to slip him one," declared frank savagely. "i don't think he meant to be so hard on me," interposed hal charitably. "i was pretty sore at first, but when i saw how bad things looked for me, i wanted to get out. i wouldn't have run away, but i don't believe i could ever prove i wasn't a thief. when you get in a fix like that, the best thing to do is to pack up and move." the interest the boys felt in the cave they were about to explore finally resulted in a change of subject, and hal's troubles were forgotten for the time being. in fact, hal himself forgot much of the bitterness of his woes in the general eagerness of the conversation. arrived at the scene of their construction work in the cañon, they lost no time in crossing the river and hastening up the walk to the waterfall cave. outside the latter they stopped only long enough to light two of the lanterns. the other two they found without oil and set them aside. then they crossed the second bridge into the cave. hal now assumed the leadership. he realized that the expedition was not without danger and felt the responsibility for the safety of his friends to be resting on his own shoulders. his first act, therefore, on entering the cave was to drive the other boys back several feet from the precipice and the roaring waterfall. then he led them beyond the bend in the passage to the farther end of the cave, where the noise of the fall was not so deafening as to prevent conversation. "you kids stay back here and explore this part while i go up in front and see if i can find any more of those nuggets," suggested hal, concealing by his manner his real motive in assigning them well back from the danger point. he knew that if he told them he was afraid they would get too close to the edge and fall over, some or all of them would be determined to hover close to the cataract. hal returned to the mouth of the cave with one of the lanterns. he could not help shuddering a little as he approached the edge of the precipice, and being of practical mind, he soon found himself speculating on a method of making this point more safe for visitors. "there ought to be a fence or high railing along here to prevent people from getting too close and falling in," he told himself. "if dr. byrd wants to invite people to visit this cave, he ought to make it safe. i think i'll suggest this to him--" his soliloquy was interrupted suddenly when he awoke to the fact that he was running away and did not intend to return to the doctor's school. "my, what a fool i am!" he exclaimed. "i think i'm losing my head. really, i wish i wasn't running away. i do hate to go. but--but--i've got to." he flashed his lantern about and began his search for the lost nuggets. he examined the floor and several crevices in the walls for fifteen or twenty minutes, but nothing rewarded his search. how the one nugget he had found got there was as big a mystery as the presence of the bag of souvenirs in the cave had been. finally he gave it up and went back to the farther part of the cave and rejoined the other boys. byron and walter were gazing upward at frank and ferdinand who were climbing up the wall on the right, which inclined like the side of a mountain. fes carried the lantern. "look out, up there; don't fall, or there'll be some broken bones, and maybe necks," warned hal. "we don't want any such accidents to-night." "we're all right; just watch us," answered frank with his usual bravado. "where you going?" inquired hal. "as high as we can," replied ferdinand "come on up. it isn't steep. it's easy climbing. you couldn't fall in the dark." fes and frank were by this time fifty or sixty feet from the floor, and the light of their lantern still revealed no sign of a ceiling, or a converging of the walls overhead. this was rather astonishing, and hal was moved with a desire to take part in the upward exploration. "i'm going up, too," he announced to byron and walter. "it doesn't look steep and it's rough enough to give a good foothold." "let's climb up with 'em, pick," suggested byron.' "all right," answered pickles, suiting the action to the word. in a moment all three were following the two leaders up the almost stair-like ascent. they climbed rapidly, for the success of fes and frank had given them confidence. up, up, they went, hal leading and byron and walter following in respective order. suddenly they were startled by a succession of cries from above. they stopped and looked upward apprehensively, and were surprised to see fes and frank standing on a ledge and looking down upon them. "come on, come on, kids," yelled frank. "we're clear through the roof. it's all open up here." thrilled by this announcement, hal quickened his steps and those behind him did likewise. in a few moments they had climbed up to where the leaders were waiting for them. frank had spoken truly. they were standing on a level spot several yards in diameter; on one side arose a perpendicular wall of the mountain and on the other, far below, they looked down into the deep shadows of mummy cañon. "my! isn't this great!" hal exclaimed enthusiastically. "we're real discoverers. maybe nobody's ever been up here before." "nobody ever tried to climb flathead, they say," byron observed. "i bet nobody ever got as high as this." "i wonder if we couldn't climb higher from here," said fes, scanning the perpendicular wall. "that doesn't look much like it," said pickles with a laugh. "i wish the moon'd come out so we could see farther," said hal. "i hate to come so far as this and stop." with these words, he flashed the rays of his lantern about. at one edge of the wall they found a break that looked like the mouth of a passage, but it was blocked by a large bowlder. "i'm going to climb over it," said hal. "here, fes, give me a boost." fes did as requested. with his lantern in one hand, hal was boosted up to the top of the bowlder, which was about five feet through and perfectly round. "yes, there's a passage here," he announced. "come on over." by a series of boosts, byron, frank, and fes climbed over the big rock, the latter stopping on top of the bowlder to reach assistance to walter. after they had passed this barrier, ferd stopped to examine it more carefully and then said: "let's try to push the rock over a little. it's balanced here on a little neck. maybe we can move it so we won't have to climb over it when we come back." hal had gone on ahead a short distance and paid little attention to this suggestion until he turned his head and saw his four companions with their shoulders to the bowlder. "hey! stop! stop!" he cried out frantically, realizing what would happen if they moved the rock. but his warning was too late. even as he screamed his command, the balanced rock toppled over and rolled heavily down the slight incline right into the mouth of the roof exit of the cave. "oh! if it would only go through!" was hal's wild wish. but it didn't. the runaway sprang past his friends, lantern in hand, and made a hasty examination. the bowlder was wedged fast, effectually blocking their only avenue of escape from the steep-walled mountain. chapter xviii the island in the air for a minute, perhaps, not a word was uttered. the hopelessness of their situation was all too evident to the five boys. no one dared to suggest that the passage from which they had rolled the bowlder would lead to any possibility of escape. "now you have done it!" hal gasped at length. "how in the world are we ever going to get out of this?" nobody answered. there was no reply to make. the situation was too fearful to permit of excuses or shifting responsibility. hal was the only member of the party who did not seem to be paralyzed. he advanced toward the bowlder and flashed his lantern over it. the opening in the rocky cliff was not entirely closed, but the rock was wedged in such a position that it was folly to try to make an exit here. the top of the crevice filled by the big stone converged almost to a point, the rest of the opening, eight or ten feet long and three or four feet wide, being over a sheer drop of thirty feet. there was no possibility of creeping around the bowlder and gaining a footing on the slanting cave wall. "c-can't we break the ground here and make the stone fall down?" suggested ferdinand in chattering accents. "break the ground?" hal replied fiercely. "don't you see we're standing on granite? you could hardly break it with dynamite--and we haven't even a wooden crowbar, to say nothing of a pick. i don't know what we're going to do. we'll starve to death. i guess the only thing we can do is to sit down an' wait till morning," announced hal gloomily as he finished his inspection. "i wonder what time it is." byron looked at his watch and announced that it was nearly midnight. then hal continued: "i don't see that we can do anything before daylight. let's all huddle up close together and go to sleep." this seemed to be the most sensible thing to do. the summer nights in colorado are cool, and the boys found it necessary to huddle together in order to keep warm. of course, they did not go to sleep at once. there were several reasons why it was difficult for them to drift off into slumber. first, they were in trouble, serious trouble; second, their bed was very hard; third, the place was wild, and the noises were strange. then the moon arose, giving the scene a most lonesome appearance. but at last all consciousness left the strange camp, and the next thing the boys knew it was morning. hal awoke first. he suddenly found himself wondering at the hardness of his bed; then, like a flash, the truth came back to him. quietly he arose, gazed a moment at his sleeping companions and then turned toward the blocked exit. another examination of the roof-opening of the cave proved that he had judged rightly. certainly there was no possibility of their escaping this way without a pick or other steel tool. next he turned his attention toward the passage from which the heavy bowlder had been rolled. it seemed almost as if this way must have been cut by the hand of man. it ran with considerable upward incline between the bulk of the mountain and a huge rocky bluff. leaving his companions still asleep, hal started up this pass, which ran a hundred feet through almost solid rock. underfoot it was rough, with rocky projections and bowlders, but the boy passed over it rapidly until he reached the end. here he found himself at the foot of a wooded slope, not so very steep, that ran upward for several hundred feet. "why, i believe we could climb the mountain from this point," he exclaimed half-aloud. "there's a ledge up there that runs right over the mummy, and there's another slope over that and then some rocks. it doesn't look nearly so steep up here. i'm going back and wake the fellows." he hastened back and found byron and walter sitting up and looking around them. remembering his predicament, pickles began to sniffle with fright. this awakened frank and fes. "oh, fellows!" exclaimed hal eagerly, "i've made a wonderful discovery." pickles ceased to cry. "have you found a way down?" inquired ferd. "no, not yet, but maybe we'll find one. but i believe we can climb up to the top." "on top of flathead!" byron exclaimed. "yes, on top of flathead." "what good will that do us?" inquired frank. "that won't help us get down." "i don't know--it may," replied hal hopefully. "anyway, it's better than staying here. we're a long distance from the road, and the bushes growing along the edge here would keep anybody from seeing us. maybe we can throw some stones down and attract somebody's attention over near the pass." this suggestion struck the others as a good one, and they were all ready in an instant to begin the climb. they realized that they would soon be hungry and thirsty and that they must do something soon. so they started without further delay. the ascent up the wooded incline was quickly made and in twenty minutes they were standing on the ledge over the mummy. here they stopped a short while and rested. they looked eagerly along the government road for travelers, but saw none. then they started upward again. after passing through a second belt of timber, the boys found it necessary to follow a winding course, along ledges, around steep places, then up a slope less steep, but rocky. from a distance this ascent appeared much steeper than it proved to be in the climbing, and at no time did the boys feel they were in danger of falling. at last they reached the top. the journey upward had seemed much longer than it really was, for they had had no breakfast. of course they were very hungry, but fortunately they had found a clear spring on the way up and quenched their thirst with deep satisfaction. ordinarily their interest in this newly discovered country--for the top of the mountain seemed almost extensive enough to be termed a country--would have been eager, but under the present circumstances a vastly more important question occupied their minds. they had come up in order to get down, and they now directed their attention to devising a plan. immediately they began an exploration of the mountain top in the hope of finding a way to get down. this flat-top area was fairly regular in circumference and half a mile in diameter. on reaching the highest point of their climb, they rested for half an hour and then started to walk around the edge. their view of the mesa through field-glasses from porcupine hill a few weeks before proved to have afforded them a fairly accurate idea of the top of flathead. the eastern half was covered with a growth of spruce, the western half was rather hilly and craggy, and in the center was a pool of water, occupying a hollow that seemed to be the catch-basin of the whole expanse. the exploration of the plateau was begun at a southeastern point and the boys decided to take a course northward along the eastern edge. this took them through the wooded section. after they had proceeded a quarter of a mile or more they found themselves on a great ledge within a stone's throw, it seemed, of the government road. eagerly they scanned the highway for passing teams, and they were not disappointed. two were approaching from the south and one from the north, the latter just entering the cañon through the northern pass. hal picked up a stone half as big as his fist and hurled it out toward the road. the result was disheartening. he had miscalculated the distance. the stone fell into the river, fifty yards short of the highway. "my goodness!" hal exclaimed. "we can't attract anybody's attention that way." "let's holler," suggested frank. "maybe they can hear us." all joined in a lusty scream, which, too, was disappointing, for they felt instinctively, after it died away, that it had not penetrated far below. none of the travelers seemed to pay any attention to it. if they heard it, they caught no significance in the sound. "we've got to do something else," hal announced desperately. he did his best to appear cheerful, but as he looked into the tired faces of his companions, he felt his heart sink heavily. "let's make some bows and arrows," pickles suggested. "pick, you're a peach!" hal exclaimed. "that's just the thing. we'll tie some notes to arrows and shoot 'em at the people passing." "we'll have to hit them or they probably won't see the arrows," was byron's advice. "i've got a scheme to make 'em hear the arrows," announced hal. "how?" asked fes. "make whistles on the ends." the boys had done this before by way of amusement. all of them were skilled in making whistles of any twig or small limb from which the bark could be removed in the form of a tube. "we haven't got any string to make a bow," frank objected. "yes we have," replied kenyon, holding up his runaway bundle of clothes, around which was wound a liberal supply of fishline. realizing that their situation was desperate, the boys set to work with a will. fes and byron made a bow, while hal and the other two boys began a search for arrow wood. they found a patch of shrubbery that contained an abundance of long straight stems, and they cut a score or more of these and made them into arrows. by this time the bow-makers had produced a good mountain-ash bow with a strong string of several fish-cord strands, and hal and his helpers had three whistle-arrows ready to shriek a novel message through the air. hal now tore several leaves from a notebook, inscribed messages of distress on them and wrapped one around each of the arrows and tied it fast. then he took his stand on the ledge overlooking the road in the cañon, while the other boys, seated on the ground, made more whistle-arrows. presently kenyon fitted an arrow to the bow, and the shaft-makers sprang to their feet to watch the effect of his first shot. the whistle-tipped stem flew with a sharp, piercing sound that thrilled all with hope. eagerly they followed its flight, while the shriek died away and the arrow sped far out and down, just beyond the road and the traveler at whom the shaft was aimed. "i'll attract his attention pretty soon if i can keep on makin' as good shots as that," declared hal as he let fly another arrow. it was impossible to determine whether or not the attention of the driver in the buggy had been attracted by the first two whistling-arrows, but the third certainly had a startling effect. the boys high overhead saw the horse suddenly spring forward and race along the road at a break-neck speed. around a curve he went, the carriage tipping over and spilling its occupant out. the horse tore loose from the harness fastenings and sped madly along the road, past a team coming from the opposite direction, and out through the northern pass. "is he killed?" gasped byron. "no," replied hal, leaning forward eagerly. "see, he's got up and is running after his horse. i hope he finds the arrow and reads the note." "you hit the horse, didn't you?" frank inquired. "i must have, unless it was the whistle that scared him." with feelings of deep disappointment, the boys watched the man run, or walk rapidly, along the road until he disappeared through the pass. meanwhile the work of making more whistle-arrows continued, and several were sent screaming down toward two other teams that had appeared in view. evidently, the attention of the occupants of these carriages was attracted by the strange sound in the air, but none of the note-bearing shafts were discovered by them. for several hours the boys continued at the work, and more than a score of arrows were sent flying down toward passing vehicles. meanwhile, they had become very hungry and thirsty and some of them visited the pool of water, but it was stale and brackish and they could not drink it. by the middle of the afternoon all were thoroughly disheartened, although they continued in their attempts to attract the attention of passers on the road below. finally a new element of expectancy was introduced when fes called attention to a strange looking object in the air two miles to the north. he was very excited when he beheld it, and exclaimed: "look! look! off there! what's that?" all looked eagerly. they were in a mood to hope for help from any improbable source. for several minutes they gazed silently at the moving object, at first believing it to be a huge bird. finally hal electrified his companions by announcing wildly: "it's mr. miles in his new airship!" chapter xix the rescuing airship "how do you know?" "i bet it is!" "do you think he's comin' here?" questions and exclamations such as these came in rapid succession following the announcement from hal that the object flying toward them high in the air was johnson miles' new airship. it was approaching rapidly and seemed to be headed right for the top of flathead. "maybe he knows we're here." pickles made the suggestion, and nobody seemed disposed to take it as a joke. however hal replied: "i don't believe he does. how could he, unless somebody found one of our arrows? we didn't see anybody pick any of 'em up." "maybe he's just hunting for us," suggested fes. "it's more likely he's just taking his first flight," said hal. "i'd feel more hopeful if i knew that was true." "so would i," said byron. "he'd probably fly up here the first place. if he's hunting for us, he won't come here at all unless he knows we're here." "well he's surely makin' for this mountain," hal declared after a few moments of silence. it certainly seemed true. the biplane was flying at an elevation slightly above that of the plateau, and did not waver in its course. "we've got to get busy and make sure that he sees us," hal suddenly exclaimed. "he might fly right over this mountain without stopping unless we attract his attention. take off your coats and wave 'em and make all the noise you can when he gets near." hal set the example and the others followed. soon the five mountain-top crusoes were cutting the wildest capers imaginable and creating a noise with their throats that surely was loud enough to be heard within a hundred yards by the aviator in spite of the vibrations of his propellers. the airship was making remarkable speed and in less than five minutes from the time it was first sighted, johnson miles glided gently down to a level spot not far from where the truant scouts were capering about. they had forgotten their hunger, their tired condition, and their despair. such a jumble of excited questions as followed the alighting of the airship could hardly be represented without a phonographic record. the boys were eager to know how the aviator discovered them--did he know they were on the mountain?--and mr. miles was equally curious to learn how they had come there. finally he said: "boys, i've brought you some food and water. you said you were hungry." that settled it. mr. miles had read one of the notes on the whistle-arrows. naturally, they marveled at this, but hal satisfied himself by concluding that one of the arrows had fallen into one of the vehicles at which he had directed his aim. from the cabin of the airship, the aviator produced a large jug of water and a basket filled with sandwiches and other edibles. eagerly the boys poured the cool liquid down their throats and then pounced upon the contents of the basket. for a while they did nothing but eat and drink, but at last pickles inquired: "how did you know we was here?" "he found one of the arrows," laughed bad. "no, i didn't," replied the aviator. "there! there!" pickles jeered, pointing his finger at frank. "you will know it all, will you?" frank was a little crestfallen, and awaited developments, hoping for an opportunity to vindicate himself. "i didn't find an arrow, but somebody else did," explained the rescuer. "a-ha! what did i tell you?" cried frank. "he didn't find it," walter replied stoutly. "well, what's the difference? i suppose if i said the top of this mountain's flat, you'd say it isn't 'cause there's hills on it." "my, what silly things you boys quarrel over," exclaimed mr. miles. "you're as bad as rival politicians. if you've settled the question i'll proceed. the arrow hit dr. edwards' horse as he was driving through the cañon." "i bet that was the horse that ran away," interrupted byron. "yes, it was," replied mr. miles. "he tipped over the carriage, broke loose and ran back to town. there he was caught and the arrow found sticking in his back. the person who found it took your note to dr. byrd." "was dr. edwards hurt?" inquired hal. "not much. somebody overtook him just outside the cañon and gave him a lift, so he didn't have to walk all the way home." hal's note tied to the arrow contained brief information of their predicament and also that they were hungry and thirsty. it did not, however, contain any details as to how they had been trapped over the waterfall cave and later reached the top of the mountain. hence, they found it necessary to relate their experiences as soon as mr. miles had finished his story. incidentally, the man discovered that hal was running away, but he made no comment on the subject. neither did he refer to the nugget episode, which he suspected to have something to do with the boys' escapade. finally all the food was eaten, all the water was gone, and all the stories were told, and then mr. miles suggested that it was time to return to lakefarm. "how we going to go?" asked ferdinand. "in the airship?" "sure. you boys all wanted a ride in it. now you'll have a chance to prove your nerve." "we can't all ride at once," objected frank. "oh, come now, bad, don't back down," admonished the aviator mischievously. "you know you cried out the loudest that you wouldn't be afraid." "i ain't afraid," protested frank angrily, "but you know there isn't room enough for all of us." "no. i agree with, you, frank. i'll take only one with me on the first trip, and that'll be you." "why me? i don't want to ride alone with you. you'll be busy all the time. i want somebody else to talk with. let pickles go the first trip." "all right. i don't care; only i want to try the ship with one passenger before i take two. pickles, you're not afraid to go first, are you?" "no, i ain't afraid," replied walter, smiling. he seldom became excited or disturbed. doubtless he would have watched the moon shoot across the heavens with no more fear than the average boy feels over a burning house or a runaway horse. "i ain't afraid either," insisted frank, but he did not offer to make the first trip with mr. miles. "all right, you'll have a chance to prove your bravery next time," assured the latter. "come on, pickles, we must hurry, for it's getting late and i've got to make two more trips before sundown. it's after four o'clock now." "you can make 'em all in half an hour, can't you?" inquired hal. "pretty nearly, if everything goes well. but something might happen to delay me." walter and the aviator now got aboard the aeroplane and mr. miles started the engine. the two big propellers turned faster and faster, and the biplane gave a few jerks and tugs, then leaped and bounded forward violently over the uneven ground until the wheels no longer touched the earth. rapidly now she arose in the air, circling around towards the north. in order to insure safety for walter while giving his entire attention to the management of the vessel, miles had closed the front and rear slides, so that they were enclosed in a room, or cabin, twelve feet long, including the tapering forequarter, and five feet wide. the aviator sat at the wheel in the narrow prow, while walter was free to move about as he wished. the four boys left behind gazed eagerly and admiringly at the airship with her invisible occupants for several minutes, not a word escaping the lips of any of them. suddenly frank broke the silence by saying: "say, fellows, maybe we'll never have a chance to come up here again. dr. byrd won't let us come up in the airship, and the passage through the cave's closed. let's explore this mountain top some before mr. miles gets back." "there isn't much to explore," replied ferd. "we can see pretty near everything standing right here." "we can't see the other side of those big rocks and cliffs over there," byron answered, pointing to the south through the thin belt of timber: "that's what we were lookin' at through the field-glasses from uncle sam's mountain, you know." "yes, let's go and have a look at it," proposed hal. there was no need of further urging, and the four boys started off at a brisk rate. through the timber they ran and then southward along the high ridge of rocks and mounds, until they came to a passage through the rocks. into this passage they entered and hastened on until near the middle a new discovery brought them to a halt. "my goodness! look at that!" hal exclaimed thus as he stopped suddenly and pointed toward something very remarkable fifteen feet ahead. it was the opening of a cave in the clay and stone wall, and slightly ajar was a wooden door of rough-hewn tree trunks. "why, somebody lives up here!" cried ferdinand in excited tones. "let's go and see who it is." "no," hal cautioned. "we've got to be careful. if anybody does live here, he's probably crazy. let's pick up some stones to throw at him if he comes at us." the boys all accepted this suggestion and soon they were armed. then they advanced cautiously past the opening in the left wall. they reached the western end of the passage and turned to the right. here they found a much more satisfactory view of the rocky and bluff-lined elevation they had observed through the field-glasses from the top of porcupine hill. in places the elevation rose two hundred feet above the level of the plateau. perhaps at no place was it more than one hundred feet in thickness, but it was seven or eight hundred feet long, constituting by far the biggest mole on the pate of flathead. near the pass the line of cliffs presented an almost perpendicular face to the south, scooped out here and there in the form of overhanging shelters. and in these shelters, twenty or thirty feet from the flathead level were a number of openings, cave-like and fronted with ruined outer structures, that thrilled hal with a realization of an important discovery. but this thrill was quickly replaced by another more intense and immediately important. it was occasioned by the appearance of a live, cat-like form, with burning eyes and crouching, hungry attitude in one of the openings--a panther--and it was looking right down on the boys. chapter xx the panther and the cave exclamations of fear escaped the boys as they saw the threatening attitude of the fierce animal in the cliff cave. hal, who had had recent experience with a similar animal--perhaps the same one--stood his ground and gazed calmly at the mountain lion. but ferdinand and frank were quickly panic-stricken and turned and fled into the passage. byron hesitated a few moments; then the fright of bad and fes proved too much for his nerve, and he turned and followed them as fast as he could run. it would be too much to expect even hal to stand cool and unmoved under such discouraging circumstances. the support of even a physically weak companion would have tended to strengthen his nerve. as it was, he felt an irresistible power pulling him backward, and he, too, turned and raced after the other boy scouts. he expected any moment to hear the panther come hounding after him and to be knocked over by the springing of the heavy body upon his back. in despair he wished he had not lost courage and had stood his ground, but he had no power to turn and await the approach of the animal. it was too late now. his only hope--but was there any hope at all? yes, there was. in the passage was the cave with the rude timber door. the other boys were just entering it. hal reached the entrance just as frank was swinging the door to. fearfully he looked behind, and saw the mountain lion entering the passage in a half hesitating manner. doubtless he had had experience with human beings that taught him the wisdom of dealing cautiously with them. hal stepped inside and pulled the door to; then, finding that it swung easily and fitted the entrance fully, he pushed it open again and stepped outside. the panther had stopped twenty feet away, crouching to spring, yet hesitating as if afraid. it was rather dark in the passage and his eyes blazed like two coals of fire. hal stood ready to spring back into the cave and pull the door to if he should spring. "come on in and shut the door," pleaded frank in trembling tones. byron and fred seconded the request, but hal had good reason for doing otherwise. if he shut himself and his companions in the cave, it would mean a long imprisonment. he would be afraid to open the door again lest he find the panther close to the entrance ready to spring in. meanwhile mr. miles would return and would be unable to find them, and then the mischief would be to pay. hal must remain outside and watch for the airship and scream for help when the aviator landed. "no, i'm going to stay here as long as he don't spring at me," hal replied. "if it's too dark in there and you're afraid, here's some matches." he took several matches from his pocket and held them behind him. byron stepped out gingerly and received them and hastened back into the cave. meanwhile, hal was measuring the distance between him and the puma and wondering if he couldn't do something to make the big cat retreat. "if i'd pick up one of these stones and fire it at him, i wonder what he'd do," he mused. "would he jump at me or would he jump back? maybe i ought to just try to scare him and not hit him. if i hit him, it may make him mad. "no, i guess i'll throw one right at him. i couldn't hit him if i tried. nobody could hit a cat; they're too quick." so he picked up a stone half as large as his fist and threw it with all his force right at the animal. the latter sprang nimbly aside and the stone bounded several yards farther on. encouraged at the failure of the mountain lion to spring at him, hal picked up another stone and hurled it, then another and another and another. the beast sprang aside and backward each time, snarling angrily, but hardly with an accent of courage. hal kept up his attack with more and more vigor, and presently the animal turned and bounded out of the passage. just as he disappeared, hal's three companions came rushing toward him in a manner so startling that the watcher outside chilled with a fear that the panther's mate had been discovered inside. they stopped at the entrance, thus reassuring hal somewhat. but this reassurance was dispelled when he turned and saw their white faces and scared attitudes. "what's the matter?" he inquired, for the moment forgetting the panther. "oh, hal!" gasped frank. "there's a man back there, and he's dead!" "a man! dead!" it was hal's turn to gasp. "yes," replied frank. "we lit some matches and saw him." "there's a gun back there, too," continued fes, and hal interrupted him eagerly. "is that so?" he exclaimed. "bun, you and bad stay here and watch, while fes and i go and have a look. if the panther comes back, holler to me, but don't shut the door unless he comes too close." with these instructions, hal entered the cave, followed by the trembling ferdinand. he struck a match to light his way, and held another to substitute as soon as the first should burn out. the hole in the wall was an ordinary cave, eight feet wide beyond the narrow entrance, six or seven feet from floor to ceiling, and fifteen feet deep. at the farther end, hal discovered evidences that the place had been used as a living room. there was no table and no chair, but he found a lantern, a pine box, a gun, some blankets and several articles of clothing. on the blankets lay the form of a man. his clothes were torn and his face was mangled. evidently he had been attacked by some wild animal, perhaps the mountain lion. the man must have been dead for two or three days. realizing that no more time should be spent in this place, hal picked up the rifle which leaned against the wall, and returned to the entrance. there he examined the weapon, which was a winchester. he pulled down the lever, which opened the chamber and disclosed five cartridges resting in the magazine. at the same time an empty shell flew out, and as he threw back the lever a fresh cartridge slipped into its place. "come on, fellows," said hal, starting for the entrance. "if the panther comes too close, i'll shoot 'im. but i don't think he'll bother us." the boys hastened out of the pass and into the belt of timber. before they reached the open, they discovered the airship resting on the ground and mr. miles looking about him in alarm at the disappearance of the four scouts. "where have you been?" he inquired as they came near. then he added in a tone of astonishment: "and where did you get that gun?" "we've had some adventure, believe me," replied hal, as he stopped and rested the butt of the rifle on a rock. "we've seen a panther and found a dead man in a cave." the aviator was amazed and demanded further details. the boys told their story in a picturesque manner, with many gestures and some slang. the aviator would have been glad to have made a personal investigation, but it was getting so late that he decided it best not to delay. so he said: "we've got to get a move on us, or we'll find ourselves making a trip through the air in the dark. come on, now. who's going on the next trip?" frank and ferdinand got aboard, and the ship again jerked and bounded over the rough ground, then arose and circled toward the school. hal and byron remained, with the gun for protection in case the mountain lion should appear again. but little fear was felt from that source after the experience they had had with the animal. "i bet it's the same panther we met over on porcupine," declared byron soon after they were left alone. "i bet it is too," replied hal. in a short time after they saw the airship glide down onto the campus, it arose again, and in ten minutes it alighted on flathead once more. then hal and byron got aboard and experienced their first thrills as aerial passengers. it was not nearly so sensational as they had expected, however. indeed, it was hardly more thrilling than going up in an elevator, for they were shut in on all sides and could look out only through the windows, and this proved not much different from gazing out of a window of a sky-scraper in the city. chapter xxi to flathead by airship again. dr. byrd said little to the boys that evening. he greeted them quietly, but not severely, as they arrived, looked them over to see that they were sound and unhurt by exposure, hustled them to the bath and later to supper, and then sent them to bed. the boys wondered a little over this. naturally, they all expected to be called on the carpet, lectured, and then punished. but the doctor's tone of voice was almost reassuring. he suspected that they had been punished enough and that if a boy won't think after such an experience, there isn't much hope for him. he understood the motive that had caused hal to run away, as well as the sentiments that had moved the other boys to accompany him. next morning, however, dr. byrd called the five truants into his office. he asked them to be seated, and then turned to his desk, at which he busied himself ten or fifteen minutes. at the end of this period mr. miles entered and took a seat near the doctor, who now wheeled around in his chair and gave attention to his callers. "well, boys," he said slowly, wiping his glasses with his handkerchief, "what do you think of yourselves? are you proud of what you have done, or do you agree that such an escapade deserves something of a reckoning?" he added as he squinted with one eye through one of the lenses to see if it was clear. each of the boys waited for one of the others to answer. as the doctor had addressed none of them individually, now was a good opportunity for them to maintain the silence so often urged upon the young in the presence of older persons. "i see you're not very proud of what you've done," continued the doctor. "and i'm not particularly proud of you either, although you conducted yourselves well after you found yourselves in a bad fix, i understand. why did you decide to run away, hal?" kenyon hung his head. then he stole a glance at the aviator, who reassured him with a kindly look. "mr. miles thought i was a thief, and i couldn't prove i wasn't," hal answered. "you found a nugget in the cave, did you?" "yes, but i didn't know what it was till i dropped it in the wash room. i hunted for the others in the cave night before last, but couldn't find any more." "well, mr. miles tells me he has decided that you are honest. he believes your story after being with you and talking with you on the mountain. but don't you think you made a mistake by running away? shouldn't you have remained here and faced the music?" "maybe i should," hal replied dubiously. "but i don't see how i could have proved i was innocent." "well," concluded the doctor slowly, "i've decided you ought not to be punished; only i want to give you this advice: don't ever run away from unjust suspicion and don't do anything that will make you liable to just suspicion. as to you other boys, there is no excuse for your running away." "we didn't mean to run away," broke in pickles. "we were just going a ways with hal and then come back before morning. but we got caught." "is that true?" inquired the doctor, addressing the other boys. "yes, it is," came the reply in chorus. "well!" exclaimed the owner of lakefarm. "it came near being a pretty serious trap, didn't it? i'll take the matter under advisement and decide later what i'll do. meanwhile, there is a more important matter to be looked after. how would you boys like to visit the top of flathead again?" "in the airship?" inquired byron eagerly. "that's the only way to get up there, now that the passage through the roof of the cave is closed." all the boys were overjoyed at the prospect. "we are going to visit the cave where you found the dead body of a man," continued dr. byrd. "i have notified the coroner and he has expressed the desire to have you all present when he takes the body away. it won't be necessary, but i've decided to let you go if you wish to. i am going myself. i have full confidence in the safety of mr. miles' airship." "when are we going?" hal inquired. "as soon as the coroner gets here--half an hour. now go and get ready for the trip, if you've decided you want to go." the five scouts left the doctor's office and went to their rooms. they doffed their class-room clothes and shoes and substituted their coarse, strong mountain-climbing suits and heavy-nailed footgear. then they hastened out onto the campus, where they found mr. miles getting the airship ready to fly. most of the other boys of the school were gathered around the aeroplane, watching proceedings with interest. of course the five returned truants were the objects of much interest and questioning when they appeared. the other boys all knew in a general way what had happened to their runaway associates, and they were now hungry for details. but the arrival of the coroner and the announcement that the boy explorers of flathead were about to make another trip through the air added a new excitement and so much confusion that there was little opportunity for anybody to gain any information. coroner huffman and pickles made the first trip with mr. miles to the top of the mountain. this official, who lived in jimtown, was a great hunter. he had held one and another political office for fifteen years and celebrated each election by going off into the mountains to shoot big game. on this occasion, he had his rifle with him, hoping to get a shot at the mountain lion that kenyon and his companions had seen the day before. while the first trip was being made, hal, frank, byron, and ferdinand were surrounded by their eager schoolmates and plied with numerous questions. then the doctor, in order to simplify matters, asked everybody to keep still and suggested that hal tell the story from beginning to end. so kenyon told the story of their adventure in detail. before he had finished, the aeroplane returned and started on another trip, with byron, frank, and ferdinand as passengers. the aviator had decided that, since the airship was built to carry three men including the operator, it ought to carry one man and three boys at once. the experiment proved that he was right. by the time mr. miles returned for the doctor and hal, the latter had satisfied the curiosity of his schoolmates. some of them begged for permission to make the trip also, but dr. byrd said that since it would be impossible to take all, he must limit his permission to those whom the coroner had asked to be present at the removal of the body from the mountain-top cave. finally, the entire party of eight men and boys was conveyed to the flathead plateau. the landing place chosen this time was a level and comparatively smooth spot west of the patch of timber and east of the pool. hal, with the permission of dr. byrd, had brought with him the rifle that had been found in the cave. he, too, hoped to see the mountain lion again and get a shot at it. as they approached the landing place he examined closely the ruins of the homes of the cliff dwellers, where they had seen the panther on the day before, but it was no longer there. "wasn't that a funny place for cliff dwellers to build their homes?" hal inquired as they were descending to the plateau. "yes, it is," replied the doctor. "i can't account for their going up so high, unless there was unusual need of defense against some of their war-like neighbors." "how do you suppose they got up here?" asked the boy. "the same way you did probably--behind the waterfall. i imagine they were afraid to trust that secret passage alone to protect them against their enemies, so they made their homes high up in these cliffs as a second precaution." "let's go up in some of those caves before we go back," hal proposed. "i am planning to make as thorough an exploration of this plateau as possible to-day," the doctor replied. "but first we must investigate the death of this man whose body you found." the other members of the party were awaiting the arrival of the last airship-load of passengers, as the coroner desired the presence of all the original witnesses when he removed the body. after all had been landed on the top of the mountain, no further delay was necessary, and they proceeded directly to the cave in the passage through the long ridge. two lanterns had been brought along, and with the aid of these the coroner made a careful inspection of the cave. he asked numerous questions in order to determine if the boys had destroyed or disarranged any clews that might lead to a clearing up of the mystery surrounding this strange life and death on the mountain top. meanwhile, not an article of the contents of the cave was moved until the careful examination was finished. mr. huffman even caused hal to lean his gun against the wall as nearly as it had been found as possible. then he and the doctor picked up the body and carried it out to the open to give it a thorough examination. there seemed to be no doubt that he had been slain by a wild beast. the body was badly mangled, particularly the upper part and the head. the clothes about the chest were ripped in shreds, indicating the savage nature of the slayer. but the clothing proved to be of good quality, indicating that their owner had not been a tramp. "i bet he was a robber hiding from the police," hal declared as the coroner began to search the dead man's pockets. the next instant the official drew forth several envelopes and pieces of paper and began to examine them. suddenly dr. byrd, who was watching this inspection closely, leaned forward and snatched an envelope from the coroner's hand. "great heavens!" he exclaimed. "this is maxwell, the instructor who stole my most valuable gems." chapter xxii clearing hal with nervous haste, dr. byrd took a piece of folded paper from the envelope and examined it. the letter was short and had to do with a purchase from a mail order house. it was addressed to rodney maxwell, boulder, colorado, care of the miners & merchants' bank. "so that's where he was," the doctor muttered, half to himself. "the last i heard of him he was in denver." coroner huffman, meanwhile, was examining the other envelopes. suddenly, he looked up at the doctor and said: "i think i can give you some interesting information. this miners & merchants' bank was robbed two or three months ago and the police are looking for this fellow maxwell. he was a teller there, i believe." "you don't say!" exclaimed the owner of lakefarm. "it's singular that i didn't see it in the papers." "the story was printed all right. you probably read only the headlines and missed his name. you don't read the newspapers the way we politicians do. maxwell got away with thirty thousand dollars." "i bet the money's in the cave," hal ventured eagerly. it was a natural suspicion, and they hastened the search through the pockets of the dead man's clothing. but nothing more was discovered and the party returned into the cave. "let's take everything outside and continue our examination in the sunlight," the doctor proposed. "good suggestion," said the coroner, picking up the box and starting for the entrance. dr. byrd rolled up several blankets, tucked them under his arm and followed mr. huffman. the lifting of one of the blankets disclosed several cooking utensils, a bag of salt and half a dozen empty fruit cans. all these and other articles the boys picked up and carried outside beyond the western end of the passage and placed them on the ground. first, the contents of the box were examined, and they proved to be of great interest. on top were two books, then several newspapers and magazines. next appeared several boxes of matches, two or three hundred cartridges, also in boxes, some collars, neckties and handkerchiefs; two shirts, and finally a small satchel, packed full and heavy. eagerly the coroner seized the latter and attempted to open it. but the clasp resisted his efforts. it was locked. remembering a bunch of keys he had found in one of maxwell's pockets, the coroner produced it and tried several in the lock. the fourth fitted and turned easily, and the satchel fell open. exclamations of eagerness and satisfaction burst from the lips of the onlookers. the object of their search was found. the little valise was full of paper money, assorted in denominations and done up in small packages with strips of paper pinned around them. on each binding strip was written with pencil some figures representing the amount contained in the package. these made the counting of the money easy. in the bottom of the satchel was more than a thousand dollars in gold coins, the counting of which required more time than the totaling of all the assorted certificates and notes. the coroner made an itemized list of these packages and coins according to denominations and amounts. on footing them, he found that the total was $ , . the official now drew up a certificate of their discovery at the foot of the itemized list, and, at his request, they all signed it. then he packed the money back in the valise, with the statement and certificate on top, and snapped the latch and locked it. "there, that's all done," mr. huffman announced. "what else have we here?" boys and men now began to overhaul the other personal effects of the slain robber. they shook out the blankets, inspected the empty fruit cans, looked into the cooking utensils and pushed their hands or fingers into the pockets of the two extra suits of clothing. in one of these pockets, dr. byrd found a small metal box about twice the thickness of an ordinary pocket match-safe. with more curiosity than eagerness, he attempted to open the box, but it resisted his efforts. mr. huffman, observing what he had found, held out his hand saying: "let me try it. i've had a good deal of experience breaking secrets." dr. byrd gave him the box, and the coroner turned it over several times in an effort to find a clasp or catch. presently he discovered a tiny button at one end and pressed on it with his thumb nail, but with no result. after considerable manipulation he finally solved the secret by pressing both sides with thumb and fingers of one hand while he "picked" the button with the other thumb nail. now was the time for a few more gasps of surprise. and they came. dr. byrd's right hand shot forward like a "jack-in-the-box" let loose, to seize the object of interest. the coroner, however, held on with both hands to prevent the eager doctor from spilling the sparkling contents. "those are mine!" exclaimed the lakefarm owner. "those are the rubies and diamonds maxwell stole from my collection over two years ago." "whew!" exploded mr. huffman. "this sure is a day of discoveries." "it's a week of discoveries, it's a month of discoveries, it's a whole summer of discoveries for lakefarm and mummy cañon," declared dr. byrd with excusable excitement. "i tell you, this has been a history making season for colorado and even the united states. think of what has happened here this summer! why it's simply stupendous. when this cañon becomes a popular summer resort it will have a most interesting history for advertising purposes." "yes, you're right," agreed mr. huffman. "and these runaway boys have done about all of it, haven't they?" he added with a mischievous look at the five young scouts standing around and eagerly listening to the conversation. "well, i don't know but you're right," admitted the doctor slowly. "kenyon discovered the cave behind the waterfall, and all of them took a part in the discoveries that followed. in fact, i think every one of their names should be given to some point or feature of interest on this mountain." "let's call the cave behind the waterfall kenyon cave," proposed byron. "that's a bright idea," declared the doctor. "it sounds well. what shall we call the waterfall itself?" "the screaming cataract," frank proposed with a little reminiscent shudder and a grin. "good again!" dr. byrd exclaimed. "and that cliff where we stood when we shot the arrows into the cañon--let's call that whistling arrow point," suggested ferdinand. "keep it up, boys, and you'll soon have everything well named," said the coroner with appreciative cheeriness. just then all were startled by an interruption from mr. miles who had been busy while the others were exclaiming over the discovery of the money and the gems. in one hand he held a coat and in the other several objects the size of small potatoes which he had drawn from one of the pockets. the objects were of a soiled yellow. "i've found my nuggets! i've found my nuggets!" cried the aviator gleefully. "hal, you're fully exonerated now, and the mystery of the bag of specimens in the cave is solved. maxwell found them in the cañon, took them behind the waterfall, picked out the nuggets, left the bag in the cave and accidentally dropped one of the lumps of gold!" before the excitement of this discovery was over, another thriller was added to the rapid succession of events. suddenly from the very cave in which they had seen the mountain lion on the day before, issued a dark object, which bounded down an incline of stones and earth and sped with swift leaps past the aeroplane and off toward the edge of the mountain-top plateau. chapter xxiii the boy scouts of the air. coroner huffman was quickest to act. his rifle was leaning against a rock near by, and he snatched it up and took two shots at the flying animal before it disappeared. apparently the panther was not hit. but mr. miles was scarcely less active. like a sprinter, he started for his airship, twenty yards away, calling out: "come on, a couple of you. we'll chase him. bring the guns." there was a general race toward the aeroplane. the aviator leaped aboard and busied himself rapidly with the motor. as the rest lined up before the machine, dr. byrd said: "coroner, you and hal get aboard. you have guns." this being a logical suggestion, it was adopted by the two mentioned. they climbed into the cabin, the wicket was closed, and almost instantly came the chug-chug of the engine and the great fan propellers began to revolve. a deep quiver, a few spasmodic jerks, and the airship started forward, bumped over the uneven ground, and rose into the air. the front and rear of the cabin were open except for the aluminum-bar inclosures, and hal looked back and waved his hand at the doctor and the other boys, who were executing various capers and cheering lustily. the next instant almost, the airship passed beyond the edge of the plateau, and pilot and passengers directed their vision to a search for the mountain lion. mr. miles called their attention to a port in the floor of the cabin and advised them to make use of that, as well as of the ports in the sides and the open front and rear. mr. huffman slid back a cover of the floor opening, two feet in diameter and protected with aluminum bars. then they began an inspection of the mountain side as the ship circled around and around as close to the tree tops as was deemed safe. they were not long in finding the fleeing animal. he was leaping with long easy bounds, down the steep and craggy slope--too steep and irregular for a man to climb or descend. the aviator steered the air craft right over him, and the coroner drew a bead on the cat through the floor port. with the discharge of the gun, hal looked eagerly at the beast, expecting to see him tumble over, but he was disappointed. "blast the luck!" muttered the coroner, who was ordinarily a good shot. "i don't believe i can hit him from the moving airship." "let me try it," hal shouted above the noise of the propellers, having read the meaning of the expression on the face of his companion. the latter moved aside and the boy thrust the muzzle of his gun through the opening. taking careful aim, he pulled the trigger, but with no better success. even as the gun was discharged, he felt the difficulty of their hunt. to shoot a rapidly moving animal from a rapidly moving airship is no easy task. hal's shot, however, seemed to be the signal for an altering of the course of the fleeing panther. the latter evidently saw the source of his danger, and turned suddenly to the left and bounded over crags and through patches of fir and spruce to the southern side of the mountain. the pursuers flew after him, firing at the moving target every now and then. finally the beast landed on the ledge of the "mummy" from which the cañon took its name. there he halted a moment, looking upward at his flying enemy. another shot from hal's rifle caused him to leap so suddenly that the boy believed he had hit him; but if so, the animal was not seriously injured. he bounded on, down the very course by which the boys had ascended the mountain. finally he stopped and gazed in a puzzled manner at the boulder that blocked his entrance through the roof of kenyon cave behind the screaming cataract, as recently named. he stuck his head through the fissure beside the bowlder and seemed about to leap when coroner huffman fired again. possibly he was hit; at any rate, he drew his head back and bounded along the steep side of the mountain to the left. several rods he sprang in this direction; then down, down he went with wonderful swiftness and agility, until he reached the new railing-bordered walk between flathead and the river. this seemed to puzzle him a little, but he hesitated only a moment. then the occupants of the airship were astonished to see the animal bound along the walk, over the waterfall bridge and behind the cataract. quickly the coroner stepped close to the aviator and shouted: "fly back to the top of the mountain. we've got to have some lanterns." miles caught the significance of the suggestion and in a very short time the airship had circled upward and over flathead and alighted near the other boys and dr. byrd. the purpose of their return was quickly explained, the lanterns were taken aboard, and away they flew again. in a few minutes they landed near the head of the rapids in mummy cañon and then proceeded to cross the first bridge and advance up the walk, with lighted lanterns, toward the screaming cataract. mr. miles was stationed outside with hal's gun, to shoot the animal if he should spring past the other two, who crossed the second bridge into the cave. each of the latter carried a lantern and they advanced carefully, flashing their lights as far ahead as possible. around the elbow of the cave they proceeded without catching sight of their quarry. even in the farther chamber they were somewhat puzzled until by flashing their lights over the sloping wall, they perceived two shining eyes high up near the bowlder that choked the upper exit. mr. huffman set his lantern down and put the stock of his gun to his shoulder. but even as he sighted along the barrel, the gleaming eyes had disappeared. "look out!" yelled hal. a horrible screech came from the blank darkness. huffman raised his rifle and fired in the direction of the sound. the thundering report of the gun almost deafened them, but shrill above even that came a second scream. the next instant hal felt a big body catch him between the legs. down he went, his lantern flying from his hand and shattering against the rocky wall. when he rose to his feet it was to see mr. huffman, lantern in hand, careering over the rock-strewn floor toward the mouth of the cave. "look out there, miles!" he yelled as he ran. hal scrambled his way out as well as he could in the dark, expecting every second to hear the report of mr. miles' rifle. instead he heard a shout and then a cry of pain. as he came to the cave entrance he saw the cause. mr. miles had been taken unawares. the lion had come hurtling at him at too close range for him to use the rifle. blinded perhaps by the sudden glare of daylight, the animal had charged full at him, and down miles had gone. there he lay at the very edge of the bridge, clutching at the railing with one hand, and holding the other over his stomach. "i wouldn't mind, if he'd hit me anywhere else," he gasped, in mingled pain and laughter. "where's your gun?" asked mr. huffman suddenly. "where's the lion?" miles asked in return. "do you think he swallowed it?" asked hal with a chuckle. at that they all gave way, as both hal and the coroner had been aching to do, so comical was mr. miles' pain-drawn face. "i'm afraid it must have been knocked over the falls," mr. miles managed at last to suggest. "he hit me pretty hard, and my game leg isn't any too strong--especially when the pesky animal tried football on me." the gun was undoubtedly gone, and it must have fallen into the water. "we'll have to come back and dive for it," added hal with a sigh, for in a way he looked upon the rifle as his own. "that'll be fun for us scouts." "i hate to have that lion get away," said the coroner regretfully; "but i suppose we might as well go back." "suppose i take you two to lakefarm and then go back from there for the rest," said miles as they walked back toward the aeroplane. "it will save time." so it was decided, and the two were soon dropped at lakefarm, where they were awaited by an eager crowd of boys. then mr. miles whirred back toward the top of flathead, soon to return with his first load. on the last trip he brought back the body of the dead maxwell and dr. byrd. "well, boys, we've had a pretty strenuous day--or days. i think that the boy scouts of the air deserve a little holiday." "the boy scouts _of the air_?" asked one of the waiting group. "yes, the boy scouts of the air, of flathead mountain, with a membership of five." "oh!" came a disappointed murmur from the rest. "but i think we'll make the holiday general, and maybe the air patrol can enroll some new members. so to-morrow we'll just scatter and enjoy ourselves our own way." the shout that went up left no doubt that the decision was popular. "three cheers for the boy scouts of the air!" came from a score of throats as the doctor turned to go in. "rah for doctor byrd!" came from the five boy scouts of the air in return. chapter xxiv mountain lion bridge "how you going to spend your holiday?" asked bad of hal the next morning when the two chanced to meet on the campus. "sh! not so loud," was the reply. "i'm going to explore kenyon cave." "but the doctor--" "he said we could do as we pleased to-day. i'm going to see if i can't get that gun again." "and hunt the lion? but it's under the falls." "i don't think it is. that lion hit mr. miles hard enough to knock him down. that gun must have gone a-flying. maybe it dropped in shallow water. and the biggest part of the falls is on the other side anyway. i'll chance it." "and we could take some grapple hooks--" "we?" asked hal. "sure. i'm going along. suppose that lion'd show up--" "yes, suppose. what'd you do? save my life by running away and getting the cat to follow you?" "never mind. you ran from it yourself the other day. you just watch me when we find it again. i'll--" "clout it in the jaw?" laughed hal. "i know where there's grapple hooks," bad suggested. "i'll get them." and away he went, to return in a few minutes with a tangled mass of cords and hooks stuffed under his coat. "ready to go now?" "soon as i get a lantern. i hid one inside the hollow elm next to the road. come on." so the two started out on their three-mile trudge, stopping to pick up the lantern and a lunch that was likewise hidden within the tree. "divvies," said hal generously as he shoved this into his pocket. it was not long before mummy cañon was in sight. they crossed the bridge and made their way slowly along the path toward the screaming cataract. just before they came to the bridge they stopped. bad sat down and began to pull off his shoes and stockings, but hal merely stood looking at the water, that was boiling and foaming even along the shore. "it can't be very deep in there this side the falls," he observed. "the gun could easy have fallen right in next to shore. of course it could have gone the other way, but that ain't likely, as the lion hit miles in this direction. if it did go toward the middle we'll never get it--unless we happen to grapple it." "what you going to do? try to grapple it first or dive?" "or wade if it isn't too deep. but first of all i'm going to take a look inside the cave. i want to see if that rock is wedged in hard like it looked from above." "what for? suppose the lion's in there!" hal laughed. "he got too good a scare in there yesterday to come back right away." "but why not find the gun first? what good'll it do you if the rock isn't tight. come on, i'm going in." and bad continued taking off his clothes. "no, i'll cool off first. you go ahead. i'll go up on the bridge and show you where the gun most likely fell." he gathered a handful of small stones and standing on the bridge, began to throw them into the water, marking off a small circle that extended from the edge of the falls to the shore. "it ought to be inside that." "all right. here goes," called bad as he began wading away from the bank. "u-u-gh! it's cold. so deep," he added, ducking himself under to the chin, pretending he had found a step-off--to come up to his waist a minute later. "call me if you find it," hal said, after lighting his lantern with a match, boy scout style being too slow just then. "i'll be with you in a few minutes." he disappeared within the cave, and bad continued wading out toward the edge of the fall, feeling for the gun with his toes. this was an easy matter, as the bottom was a firm sort of sand-mud, smooth and gently sloping. the water deepened till it was up to his neck, but that was all. out under the falls it was doubtless many times deeper, but here the thin trickle from above had not worn any hole. "i guess i'll cut in toward the bridge," he said to himself, "and then work over along the bank." as he came under the bridge he stood there a moment, holding to one of the timbers, for at this point the undertow from the falls was rather strong. as he stood there his mischievous spirit prompted him to play a trick on hal. wouldn't it be a lark to climb up under the bridge and stretch himself out along the timbers and wait there for hal? what would he think when he came out and found no bad in the water? he had laughed at bad's scare when the plank tipped, that night when kenyon cave was discovered. here was a good chance to get even. so bad wormed himself up one of the posts, and after a good deal of squirming found himself a firm and fairly comfortable resting place where two bracing timbers formed a v-shaped bed. right above him was a large knothole, within a few inches of his eyes. he lay there and waited some time, his only view the tumbling water just beneath, and above, a knothole sight of the cliff and a patch of blue sky. once he was tempted to call, but waited. then, above him, on the boards of the bridge, he heard a quiet footfall. it sounded like bare feet; perhaps that was why hal had been so long--he had stopped to undress. the footfalls ceased. bad fancied he heard a curious sniffing noise, that kept up till it got on his nerves. what could hal be doing that would make such a funny noise! bad tried to look through the knothole. only blue sky and gray cliff could be seen. but still that sniff-sniff kept up. putting his mouth to the knothole, he drew in his breath and then "wow!" he shouted. but the answer was not what he expected. a low snarl came in reply, and the snarl was too animal-like to have come from hal. bad almost fell from his perch in his sudden fright. again he put his eye to the hole, but jerked back with a scream. a cold, damp something had touched his face, and that something he knew instinctively was the muzzle of an animal. perhaps it was this thought that made him lose his balance. at any rate, almost before he realized it, he had toppled out of his seat and into the water. for an instant he floundered, then struck out, under water, to get as far away as he could. he did not stop to reason that the animal, whatever it was, would hardly attack him in the water; he merely wanted to get away. then suddenly he stopped and came to his feet. his hand had struck something solid. it felt not unlike the branch of a tree or a stick--or a rifle barrel. it was standing straight up in the water. for a second he groped about, then struck it again. with a feeling of triumph he grasped it and gave a tug that freed it from the mud. it was the rifle. then he looked toward the bridge. there, its teeth bared in a snarl, was the mountain lion of the day before. it was not crouched, but stood there, its head going from side to side in an impatient shake, its tail beating the bridge floor angrily. but for an instant only it remained so. with an alert turn of the head it directed its attention to the cave. it had heard something. bad heard the same sound; it was hal coming out, and bad stood as if paralyzed. "stay in the cave!" he yelled, suddenly regaining command of his voice. "i'm coming," came the indistinct reply. "did you find the gun?" "stay in the cave! the lion's on the bridge!" "i can't understand you." bad had difficulty in hearing the words, broken by the irregularity of the passage and drowned by the noise of the falls. "i'm coming fast as i can--my lantern's out." "oh-h--" groaned bad, "what shall i do? don't come out!" he shrieked again. there was no reply. the lion had not stirred, crouching expectantly at the opening. when hal appeared, it would spring--and bad shuddered at the thought. but the gun! suddenly he remembered that. he looked at the breech; it was unrusted. he threw a shell into place; then he thought of the barrel. one glance told him it was choked with mud. what could he do? he remembered hearing of a gun that had burst because there was mud in the end of the barrel. true, that was a shotgun. dared he risk it? he brought the gun to his shoulder--then hesitated. bad was no coward, but he knew the risk. "hal!" he yelled for the last time. there was no reply, but the click of footsteps and a loud "ouch!" told him his call had done no good. he saw the lion crouch still lower, the leg muscles tightened, and then--bang! bad had shut his eyes as he pulled the trigger. furthermore, he had not held the rifle very tight to his shoulder; he picked himself out of the water and gave a frightened look toward the bridge. the lion was still there but no longer crouching. he was whirling round and round, a struggling bundle of rage and scratching claws. his savage whines sent the cold chills up and down bad's back. coming too close to the edge of the bridge, the lion rolled off--and bad hastily scrambled his way toward the bank. "hello!" called hal, appearing just then in the cave entrance. "what's up, bad?" "nothing," said bad limply. "nothing? is that what makes you look so sick? what you been doing with the gun?" "nothing." then he added slyly but shakily: "i just clouted mr. lion in the jaw." "the lion! was it you that shot? where is he?" came in rapid succession. "i believe he went downstairs there to get a drink," laughed bad, his voice and legs getting stronger. "if you'll help me to fish him out, we'll lug him back to lakefarm, and s'prise the natives." and that was certainly what they did, as, a couple of hours later, they arrived, fagged out but proud, at lakefarm institute and dropped their trophy at the feet of mr. byrd, who, with mr. frankland and mr. miles and mr. porter, as well as all the boy scouts, was waiting to receive them. "and who shot him?" asked dr. byrd, after the slain beast had been inspected and admired to the full expectations of the two heroes. "it was frank," hal replied. "not _bad_?" asked dr. byrd, quite seriously. "no--frank. bad has made _good_, and he's been promoted. from now on he's frank." generously made available by internet archive (https://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/boyscoutsoflakev quir the boy scouts of lakeville high * * * * * * by leslie w. quirk the wellworth college series the fourth down the freshman eight the third strike ice-boat number one the boy scouts series the boy scouts of black eagle patrol the boy scouts on crusade the boy scouts of lakeville high * * * * * * [illustration: "sit tight," he called, "and i'll have you out in a jiffy." frontispiece. _see page ._] the boy scouts of lakeville high by leslie w. quirk with illustrations by william kirkpatrick [illustration] boston little, brown, and company copyright, , by little, brown, and company. all rights reserved printed in the united states of america contents chapter page i the new boy ii track trouble iii the relay race iv school elections v nobody vi before the wind vii two yards to go viii the peace picnic ix the tenderfoot x hallowe'en xi the touchdown xii the icy hill xiii apron strings xiv the last goal xv an alarm of fire xvi along the floor xvii touch and go xviii dead wires xix on the handcar xx busted! xxi borrowers' luck xxii one car and three cows xxiii lost: one baseball team xxiv molly insists xxv substitutes' day xxvi the twenty-fifth boy illustrations "sit tight," he called, "and i'll have you out in a jiffy" _frontispiece_ just as he reached a point a foot or two short of bunny, he tripped suddenly and fell page to his left, bearing down upon him, was a great monster of iron and steel " above the clatter-clatter of the hand car, a voice shouted from below " the boy scouts of lakeville high the black eagle patrol bunny payton patrol leader bi jones assistant patrol leader nap meeker no. specs mcgrew no. s. s. zane no. roundy magoon no. jump henderson no. . . . . no. the boy scouts of lakeville high chapter i the new boy "help!" as though snipped off short by one of its own whirling blades, the lawn mower in the next yard stilled abruptly. almost on the echo, a mop of red hair popped above the garden fence. from her perch on the turning-pole, which jutted out of the big butternut tree in the sefton back lawn, molly sefton watched the brick-red thatch and the serious face beneath it. she wondered whether the boy were fifteen years old or sixteen, and whether these new neighbors who had moved in only the day before would prove as "nice" as she had found the rest of the little village of lakeville. then a sharp twist of pain made her forget everything except her right foot. "please help me loose," she called. "i was climbing up to get my kitten, and my foot slipped in here. now i can't get it out." by this time, the red-headed boy had drawn himself to the top of the fence. almost before she had finished explaining, he had dropped on the other side. scrambling up to the horizontal bar beside her, he squinted thoughtfully at the imprisoned foot, wedged between the tree-trunk and the wooden strip that held the end of the bar. "pull your foot straight up." she made the effort and winced. "it's too tight." the red-headed boy frowned. "you're wearing thick, outdoor shoes," he said. "if i just unlace this one, you can wiggle your foot out as easy as pie." while she remained standing on the bar, balancing herself by the tree, the boy straddled the pole and began switching the shoe lace out of the stops. "it was my kitten i wanted to get," she said slowly. "that's how it happened. and he's up there yet." the red head looked up. two feet out of the girl's reach, clinging to a tiny limb, hung a black and white kitten. from time to time, it opened its mouth and let out a whimpering cry that sounded like "_me-e-e!_" "how did it get up there?" "the claxton's dog pretty nearly scared it to death; it started climbing and was afraid to stop." "i see," nodded the boy. "well, you jerk your foot out of that shoe, and we'll get the kitten easy enough. are you all ready? now!" molly made the effort to free herself. "i can't!" "it's just as easy as falling--if you'll only try." "it's not easy." she was beginning to lose her temper. "i'm stuck just as fast as i ever was. you haven't done a bit of good." before she finished the sentence, she was ashamed of her words, for a hurt look overspread the face beneath the red hair. "are you sure you can't yank it free?" "i know i can't." very deliberately, he bent down and pulled from his own right foot the white tennis slipper. "i'm sorry i can't get you loose, but i know how to get your kitten down." "what are you going to do?" without answering, he drew back his slipper in a position to hurl it at the helpless kitten. he measured the distance with his eye, poising the shoe for the most accurate throw possible. "what--what are you going to do?" she was very close to screaming. "hold tight. that kitten might come down right on your head." "you horrid, _horrid_--" "i'll count three slowly, and if your foot isn't out by that time--" "you--you mustn't do such a thing! you shan't!" molly gasped her indignation, meanwhile clinging to the tree with both hands. "just the same, i'm going to. get your arm out of the way." he pulled back his tennis slipper to aim at the kitten. "one!-- two!-- thr--" a little half-scream interrupted him, and behold! molly's stockinged foot rested beside its booted mate as she lunged forward to prevent the outrage upon the little black and white kitten. strangely enough, the red-headed boy was merely grinning good-naturedly. "i knew you could," he said. "i knew, if you really wanted to--" for a little moment, molly stared sternly at him, before she bit her lower lip with an expression that was somewhere between vexation and relief. "why, i--i don't believe you meant to throw your slipper at all," she reproved him. with a little broader grin, he nodded his head frankly. "of course, i didn't. i wouldn't throw anything at your kitten any more than i'd throw anything at ours, and we've got an awfully funny little fellow. all i wanted to do was to get your foot loose." molly smiled in spite of herself. "now, if you'll get down on the ground, so i can shinny up the tree a bit, i'll catch the kitten, and then i'll get that shoe of yours." with her stockinged foot cushioned on the soft grass, molly watched the boy struggle up the tree and clumsily but gently rescue the kitten from its roost. afterwards, when the animal lay safely in molly's arms, he pried loose the shoe from its wedged nook and dropped a bit heavily, to the ground. "it was splendid of you!" molly began, and then stopped, horror-struck. "but look at your clothes!" the red-headed boy glanced down, but continued to smile, in spite of the dark stains that had spread where he gripped the tree-trunk and sundry leaf and nut clusters between his knees. "i'm always doing something like that. i wish it wasn't the first day of school, though," he added a little ruefully. "it's most schooltime, too." but now molly was her practical self once more. "you get your books," she ordered, "and i'll take you down in our automobile. horace hibbs (he's an inventor with the fair play factory) has his workshop near the school, and he mixes a sort of patent stuff that just takes any kind of a spot out of your clothes. he's the scout master of the black eagle patrol of boy scouts, too. see, father's getting the car ready now. you come right over." while mr. sefton drove the car, molly and the red-headed boy sat side by side on the rear seat. after deftly finding out his name (which was rodman cree) and his age (fifteen) and his grade (first-year high) molly began telling him all about lakeville and about the new high school, which had resulted from the combined efforts of horace hibbs, the fair play sporting goods factory, and, most of all, the black eagles, lakeville's patrol of boy scouts.[ ] "i came pretty near being a scout last year myself," rodman said suddenly. "i was all ready to pass my tenderfoot examinations when we moved out on a farm and staid there till we came to lakeville." "oh, that's fine!" molly assured him briskly. "you'll be taken in with the black eagles. you see, handy wallace moved to beloit almost a year ago, and sandy anvers was sent east to school; so that leaves only seven. and the patrol is going to do things this year," she went on warmly. "there will be high-school football teams and baseball and basketball teams and everything else, and there will be lots of black eagles on every team, too. i just know so." the boy's face lost its smile. "i'm not sure whether i'd be taken into that bunch or not," he confessed slowly. "i'm not much good at athletics." "nonsense! of course you are!" nodded molly reassuringly. "and, besides, even if you aren't, you'd be good in just a little while. you only have to try." "i--i'd like to," he agreed, as the car stopped in front of the fair play factory's annex. "i'd certainly like to." a round, jolly face showed at the window to the right of the door, and presently horace himself, scout master of the black eagle patrol, middle-aged and good-natured, greeted him from the entrance. "what can we do for you this morning, mr. sefton?" smiled the inventor. "do you want to buy a pair of skates or some hockey sticks, or shall you wait for the cold weather?" molly's father laughed. "we have a young man here who has been climbing a butternut tree, and molly tells me you own a special brand of stain remover that can handle even accidents like this one." horace hibbs raised his right hand. "don't say another word. we will send those stains to the happy hunting ground in about two minutes." by the time rodman cree came back to the waiting car, not only was his clothing free from the blemish of the butternut, but his wish to join the boy scouts had grown from a very moderate desire to one truly giant-sized. never before, he thought, had he met anybody who understood boys as did horace hibbs; and what the scout master told him about the patrol made him wish that he knew scouting from a to z, and, in addition, could run the hundred in ten seconds, and broad-jump across a river. "of course he's fine," agreed molly, "but just wait till you know the boys in the patrol--bunny payton, the patrol leader, and bi and nap and s. s. and jump and specs and roundy; and, oh, just wait till you've seen our new high school!" up elm street the car turned, and down freemont, pulling to a stop in the middle of the block. "look!" cried molly. artistically centered in a big lot, the building stood, with a scrub ball game already in progress on the new diamond. the gray rock side walls, that seemed to be more window than anything else; the graceful lines that rose in exquisite proportion; the main door, with its roofed, stone-pillared veranda on each side,--all made a structure that savored more of a home than a school. it was the sort of place you would enjoy going to, if the teachers only lived halfway up to the building. and the crowd of pupils already gathering for the first day proved how deeply lakeville's first and only high school had stirred the little village and the country roundabout. as molly looked over the young people grouped at the door or watching the game of "work-up," she recognized not only every lakeville boy and girl of high school age, but as many more from farms and villages within ten miles. by automobiles, by train, a-wheel and on pony-back, they had gathered for the opening session. peter barrett, his patched suit neatly brushed and pressed, stood by his father's farm wagon; ten yards away, royal sheffield, son of the wealthy, real estate man of charlesboro, was just climbing from a new eight-cylinder car. "buck" claxton, who for the past two years had worked at the local flour mill, was playing a noisy game at first base, while on the side-lines, clarence prissler, his nose out of a book for once, was explaining the fine points of the sport to marion genevieve chester, who tilted her nose, smoothed her hair, and looked very bored. but the boy scouts of the black eagle patrol were neither watching from the side-lines nor bored. heart and soul, they were playing the game, from specs mcgrew, taking a lead off third, to bunny payton, thumping the palm of his catching glove with his other hand and signaling to bi jones, out in the pitcher's box. handling the bat itself, roundy magoon waved the stick back and forth, while bi, with maddening slowness, made ready to pitch. "hurry it up!" shouted bunny. "this fellow is as good as gone, and i want a crack at the ball before the bell rings." herbert zane, whose nickname of "spick and span" had been shortened to "s. s.", was creeping as far off first as he dared, with an occasional glance at his clothes, as if wondering whether or not it would pay to risk the gorgeousness of a brand new suit by sliding into second. "let the next one go!" he called to roundy, apparently having made up his mind that it would be better to wallow in the dust, and thus perch on second, than be forced out or made the victim of a double play. roundy nodded. very likely, too, he intended to do just that thing. but the ball floated over so slowly, so tantalizing "right", that at the very last instant he swung hard enough to drive it over all the roofs of lakeville. but bi had put his muscle into the heave, and roundy had started his swing a fraction of a second too late. though all his stout body went into the blow, only the handle of the bat made connection, and the ball hit in front of the plate and dribbed toward first. like a flash, bunny leaped forward, scooped it up, tagged roundy before that slow-moving youth had stirred into full action, and, with a bluff toward specs, pegged to second. it was a good throw, although high, and jump henderson took it with one of his old circus leaps, touching s. s., who slid nobly but too late, and relaying the ball back to bunny in time to prevent specs from making an attempt to score. "don't mind me! i'm nobody!" specs howled mournfully, scampering back to third; while roundy and s. s. trotted out to the field, buck claxton stepped into the pitcher's box, nap meeker put on the catcher's glove, and bi and bunny came in to bat. "leave me here," wailed specs. "that's right! leave me here! i'm having a lot of fun on this base. yes, i am! i've watched eight of you fan or hit pop-ups or easy grounders; and here i am waiting yet." "you won't be there long, specs," bunny promised cheerfully, picking up the bat. "that's what they all say," specs growled. "but nobody brings me in." "nobody will bring you in, either, old socks," observed nap. "you're licked in this war. all right, buck. give him one right here." the ball was shoulder high. too eager to wait for a good one, bunny swung lustily, managing to foul it off over nap's head, past the sefton automobile and across the road, where the ball lodged under the high fence of the anvers yard. "tell my folks to send my dinner out here," groaned specs, plumping himself down on third base and burying his head between his knees. it was just as nap started after the lost ball that bunny spied the car with molly and rodman in the rear seat. "oh, bunny!" shouted molly. a moment later, the new boy and the leader of the black eagles had formally shaken hands. "and he can pass the tenderfoot tests, and he's awfully good at athletics, and--" "but i'm not _any_ good at athletics," protested rodman, laughing. "i'm no good at all in that sort of thing." "he's just too modest to say so. you ought to have seen how he saved the kitten." "have you ever played baseball?" demanded bunny suddenly. "sure--a little. but i'm no good. i can't bat decently, or catch or field." bunny held out his bat. "come on over and take my place," he invited. "i doubt if i can hit buck, and poor old specs has been perched on third for hours. everybody who comes to bat knocks a baby grounder or a pop-up or something, and specs stays right there." "all right, bunny!" nap broke in, crossing back to the school yard with the ball. molly dropped her hand on rodman's arm. "go and try," she urged. "i know you can do it." "hurry up, bunny! pretty near time for the bell!" nap flung over his shoulder. rodman was plainly wavering. "but--but--" "try it, anyhow." "oh, you must!" molly commanded. the new boy climbed out of the car, smiling. "i'm no good, but i'll give you a chance to see just how bad i am." "this claxton," bunny confided, as they jogged to the diamond, "pitches a hard ball, and he has a sure-enough out-curve; but if you stand up to the plate and don't let him bluff you back, it will be all right. remember, though, you have only two strikes left." from the car, molly watched rodman and bunny join the others. for a little while, there seemed to be some objection to rodman's substituting, but buck claxton ended the argument. "let him come to bat," observed buck loudly. "he can't hit. i can see it in his eye." "i'll bet he can't," assented specs sadly. "none of 'em can." rodman touched the plate with his bat. buck wound up with an exaggerated movement to deliver the pitch. it was a hard, straight ball, with just the hint of a drop in it, but the bat met it over the very center of the plate. _spang!_ the ball was off like a shot; off and up and over the fielder's head in center, till it struck a tree twenty yards beyond and rolled and bounded to the left. specs loafed in from third, and before the fielder had finished juggling with the ball, the red-headed boy had rounded the three bases and touched home. then, while specs was slapping rodman on the back, and a little scattered applause was rising from the crowd, the school bell added its share to the celebration. "he's a dandy!" chuckled bunny enthusiastically, as molly met him hurrying to the building. "he's going to be a black eagle, all right." "won't that be fine!" agreed molly, quite as pleased as though she were a scout herself. and that was the way the new-comer to lakeville high school--the new high school that would never have been built if it had not been for the black eagle patrol--began his first day. footnote: [ ] see "the boy scouts on crusade." chapter ii track trouble before the end of the first lap, rodman cree had quit. it could hardly be called his fault, because the elastic waistband which held up his running pants had snapped, and a further awkward gallop with his hands holding up the slipping garment proved futile. so he veered off the track. "no use!" he laughed. "besides, i'm not a runner, anyhow." it was the laugh that brought the scowl to spec's face. "of course, it was not his fault," he grunted, "but why does he laugh about it? he's running for us to-day; he's our eighth man in the patrol. doesn't he understand that we want to win?" it had been rather a last-minute affair, this field day between the black eagles and buck claxton's team, which he had called the all-school; and it was specs who had quite unconsciously started it all. "i guess everybody knows," specs had said in a loud, clear voice during the first morning's recess, "who it was that made this school possible." "i don't!" snapped buck claxton. "look here, if you scouts think you're so much, i'll get together eight fellows who can beat you at baseball or football or track or anything else." though bunny wished that specs had spoken a little more modestly and in a great deal lower voice, he was not altogether sorry that the field meet had been arranged. because a half-holiday had been declared, to enable the citizens' club of elkana to inspect the new high school building, it was on tuesday morning that the scouts (plus rodman cree, to round out the eight mentioned in the challenge) clashed with the all-school team on field and track. it was bunny's idea that the field day might spread the scout movement among the new fellows of the school, and especially among the following that buck claxton was rapidly acquiring. the leader of the black eagles felt, moreover, that they had been too much by themselves, and that a second patrol would not only wake them out of their clannishness, but that, in addition, it would keep them from sleeping on their laurels. and, of course, it was a splendid chance to see what they could do when pitted against boys slightly older and larger. "that was some race!" chuckled specs, after s. s. had broken the tape. he and bunny were walking toward the competitors for the high jump. "buck ran a good race, even if he was nosed out. how about taking him into the black eagle patrol? he's crazy to get in, all right, no matter what he says. how do you feel about it?" "what's the matter with rodman cree? he's acting as our eighth man to-day. seems to me he should have first chance to join the patrol." specs wrinkled his forehead. "y--yes. oh, of course, he's all right. but he says himself that he just hit the ball by mistake yesterday morning; and you saw what happened just now in the half-mile." bunny threw back his shoulders. "i don't care whether rodman cree is any good at athletics or not. he's the right kind of a fellow; that's the main thing. anyhow, i think he is. besides, he may make good at one of these other events." but wherever his abilities lay, it was plain that the red-headed boy had not been cut out by nature for a high jumper. others skimmed the bar as lightly as swallows, but at the very outset rodman began to flounder and fail. twice, at three feet, he knocked off the crosspiece; the third time he came down on it squarely, smashing the wood to flinders. "i'm no high-jumper, i guess," he laughed, as he quit the line of contestants. "i seem to be a pretty good faller--only there's no falling race." while specs frowned his disapproval, bunny tried to hearten rodman with a word of encouragement; for it seemed to him that under the boy's good nature there was a raw, sore spot. "don't you care!" he encouraged. "before the morning's over, you will find that you're good at some one of these events. besides, jump will take care of first place here." jump did. to top this win, bunny finished first in the hundred-yard dash, and, a little later, in the two-twenty. it was not till the discus throw that the scout team suffered an overwhelming reverse. this defeat was the more disappointing because bi and roundy had counted on scoring points for first and second between them. but in spite of bi's efforts and roundy's weight, an all-school boy by the name of bob kiproy proved that he had the knack of discus throwing and that bi hadn't. and peter barrett, the farmer boy, without any form at all, managed to land the platter-shaped weight some twenty-six inches beyond roundy's best. as for rodman cree, his throws went woefully wild. now followed the most extraordinary event of the morning. "you can't throw the discus," specs said maliciously to roundy. "you've proved that. now, why don't you go in and win this hurdle race?" "all right," snapped the late weight-thrower. "just to prove that i can, i will." it was the -yard course, with low hurdles, however, instead of the customary thirty-six-inch regulation barriers. "don't make a show of yourself," whispered specs, as roundy lined up for the start. "i wasn't joking," retorted roundy. "you watch!" and, to the surprise of everybody, it was roundy who breasted the tape first. while the others were rushing frantically at the hurdles and falling as they tripped and blundered, roundy took his obstacles "high and handsome," to use the words of horace hibbs. jump, who should have done well in this event, hurt his knee at the fourth hurdle, where he was forced out of the race. "attaboy!" exulted specs, clapping roundy on the back. "i knew you could do it." "no, you didn't, either," roundy answered, too pleased with his performance to be angry at anybody. "but i won the five points all right, even if i'm not one of you light and airy speedsters. what's next?" the shot put was won by bi, and, as specs put it, "lost by mister rodman cree," who finished a bad last. "i'm leaving now," bi told bunny, after that event. "date with the dentist at eleven, as i explained. before i go, though, i'd just like to say that i don't think this new fellow is any good. he can't run. well, that's all right. but he can't do anything else, either." "this isn't a secret society, bi, and it isn't an athletic club. it's a patrol of boy scouts. and if rodman isn't good at some of these things that don't really count, i know he's worth while in other ways." bi shook his head. "let some new patrol take him in. he may be all right, but i'd rather have somebody in the black eagles who isn't such a dub." with only three more events on the program, the scouts' lead seemed to promise a sure victory. but when the all-school team romped away with both first and second places in the broad jump, matters began to look more grave. once more, rodman cree made a mess of his efforts as a jumper. he switched between taking off clumsily and falling back after landing. "he just won't do," said roundy soberly, as the city hall clock struck eleven. "but he's really trying," protested bunny. "his laughing and all that is just on the surface. he likes us, and he wants to make us like him." "too many other good fellows in school to bother with him," roundy retorted. he paused for a moment. "bunny, i wish i could stay for the relay race, but i promised my father to mow the lawn this forenoon, and i can't get it done unless i start now. you don't need me as a sub, do you?" bunny shook his head. "no; we have s. s., specs, jump and myself; and nap could be shoved in at a pinch. you trot along, and this afternoon we'll tell you how we won. anyhow, i think this pole vault will give us a nice lead. that's one thing nap can do, to say nothing of jump." had nap been satisfied to limit his strength to pole-vaulting, he might have made a first in that event; but he came to it exhausted from his earlier efforts, and his best was a creditable third. jump's knee, bruised from the hurdles, was bumped again in his first attempt. second place was the limit for him. when horace hibbs called time for the relay race, the summary of events stood as follows: ============================================================= | | | points event | first | second +-------------------- | | | scouts | all-school --------------+------------+------------+--------+----------- half mile | scouts | all-school | | high jump | scouts | all-school | | -yard dash | scouts | all-school | | discus throw | all-school | all-school | | hurdles | scouts | all-school | | shot put | scouts | all-school | | -yard dash | scouts | scouts | | broad jump | all-school | all-school | | pole vault | all-school | scouts | | --------------+------------+------------+--------+----------- totals, | | ============================================================= the score was a tie, therefore, with the result of the meet depending upon the relay race. "we'll be ready to run in two minutes," bunny said, and turned to discover jump limping toward him. the boy's face was drawn with the effort he was making to walk naturally. "i--i'm all right, bunny. my knee will straighten out in just a minute. please let me run. i'll be all right as soon as i start." horace hibbs bent beside him, as bunny examined jump's right knee, which was discolored from its bruises and already slightly swollen. "won't do," said horace hibbs firmly. "it will come around all right in a day or two, but he must not abuse it by running in the relay. i won't have it. you'll have to get somebody else." bunny nodded agreement. "oh, nap!" from his blanket on the ground, the scout pried himself to his feet, with legs none too steady under him. "can't use him, either," decreed the scout master. "he has been running his head off in every event from the half mile down, and he is thoroughly exhausted. i won't allow him to start." bunny frowned. though the man was right, it left no choice when it came to picking the fourth runner in the race. for a moment, he wished with all his heart that bi, or even roundy, were there; but it was too late now for wishing. "rodman," he called, "i'm putting you on our relay team." the boy's eyes opened wide. "i'll try, of course, but you know as well as i do that i can't run to amount to anything." "all you have to do is your best. nobody wants any more of you than that. three of us are better than any three on their team. you will start the third relay with a lead, sure, and if you lose it on your lap, i'll try to gain it back the last time around." with quick, eager movements, rodman cree stripped off his jersey. "i am going to do all i can," he said in a low voice. "and you don't know how much i want to help you win." "look here," whispered the excited specs, as he pulled bunny to one side. "do you mean that you are going to trust him to run in this race?" "there's nobody else." "he'll lose the race for us." "not if we other three gain on our laps as we should." "he'll lose the race for us," repeated specs despairingly, "and then, when it's all over, he'll laugh. i know him." "places for the relay!" shouted horace hibbs. chapter iii the relay race "it wasn't much of an argument," scout master hibbs confessed to his relay team. "i simply suggested that we have each runner pass the little block to the next, rather than merely touch hands. buck claxton was the only one to raise any objection. he runs the last lap." none of the four to whom he was speaking offered any comment. it was jump henderson who finally spoke; poor lame, disappointed jump. "probably figured that if the race was close, he could get away before the third runner touched him," he offered. "oh, you're wrong there." the speaker was rodman cree. "i'm sure you're wrong. i know buck. he isn't that sort at all. he wouldn't even think of taking an unfair advantage." bunny happened to be looking at horace hibbs, who, in turn, was staring fixedly at the new boy. "i suppose not," agreed the scout master, in a tone that was not wholly reassuring. "anyhow, the use of the block makes trickery impossible; that's why it has been adopted so widely. well, let's get over to the track." there was something queer, bunny felt, in the man's speech. it was as if he suspected somebody's honesty; not buck claxton's, perhaps, but--well, somebody's. he couldn't quite make it out. but once bunny was lined up beside the cinder track back of the black eagles' clubhouse, he forgot everything except the race itself. everybody was cheering and yelling advice and encouragement; horns were tooting, and somebody who had brought a bell was clanging it madly. it was no time for solving puzzles. almost before he realized it, the race began. the crowd gasped suddenly and went absolutely still. a shot rang out; and around the queer, slanting track ran s. s., of the scouts, and some tall, thin chap of the all-school team, whom buck had been saving for just this event. instead of the easy race s. s. had expected, bunny could see that he was fully extended to hold his own. side by side the two runners raced, neither able to wrest a yard's advantage from the other. the crowd seemed to have gone mad. "get ready, specs," he heard horace hibbs say; and good old specs, who ran the second relay, walked, trembling with excitement, to the starting line. bunny puzzled gravely over his teammate's display of emotion and could not understand it, until he recalled that his turn would come presently, and that he must take up the race where rodman cree dropped it. his own cheeks reddened hotly, and his fists persisted in clenching and unclenching spasmodically as he waited and waited. s. s. swept around the last sharp curve, with his body leaning far inward, and held out his little crimson block of wood. still running by his side, the tall, thin chap thrust forward a blue one. two clutching hands closed upon them, and specs and his opponent were off upon the second relay. the race was still nip and tuck, with no advantage to either team. but there was no holding specs. he ran as if his very life depended upon eluding the other fellow; and little by little, just an inch or two in each few strides, he forged into a clean lead. rodman cree was on the track now, waiting his turn with white, set face and wildly groping fingers. as specs reached him at last, now a good dozen yards ahead of the all-school fellow, bunny sucked in his breath. suppose--suppose something should happen; some accident, say, that would mull things up and worry the new boy. but none did. as smoothly as clockwork, specs reached forth a hand with the crimson block, and rodman grasped it and began to run. there has been no pause, no halt, no delay whatever. and the third man of the scouts' relay was off with a commanding lead. bunny relaxed and began to breathe easier. by his side, some boy was puffing mightily, like a motor with its exhaust open. not till the other spoke, though, did bunny recognize who it was. "he--he can't hold his--lead," wheezed specs mournfully. "see! what--what did i tell you? he's losing--losing ground every second." rodman was, too. there was no question about his determination; he was running with every ounce of will and ambition. but something was wrong. "he--he's just no good!" puffed specs. "can't run--or jump--or throw--or anything. no good!" the all-school runner was at rodman's heels now. he swerved to the outside and came abreast of his opponent. for a brief span, they ran side by side. then, like an elastic band that stretches longer and longer as the pull upon it increases, the gap widened alarmingly. "i told you so," groaned specs. "he's going to lose the race for us." "it isn't lost yet," said bunny grimly. he walked out upon the track, breathing hard and with knees wobbling treacherously. it seemed suffocatingly hot. already his forehead was moist with perspiration. the seconds he waited for the runners to reach him seemed to stretch into hours. at last, when the suspense was driving twitches through every muscle of his body, he heard the grateful _thud-thud_ of feet behind him. half turning, he held out his hand. but it was not rodman; he realized that when he saw that the extended block was blue. buck claxton grabbed it, leaped forward like a race horse when the barrier is sprung, and was yards away before bunny's bewildered brain righted. [illustration: just as he reached a point a foot or two short of bunny, he tripped suddenly and fell. _page ._] rodman cree came pounding in at last. but just as he reached a point a foot or two short of bunny, he tripped suddenly and fell, plunging toward his team mate from the impetus of his running. the accident was embarrassing, to be sure, but it could hardly have occurred at a luckier spot. even as he sprawled helplessly toward bunny, that runner took a quick side-step, to prevent a violent collision, and dashed forward upon the last relay of the race. the pursuit of buck seemed well-nigh hopeless. but bunny did not despair. he fixed his eyes on the bobbing head of the boy in front of him, and urged himself toward it with every muscle of his lithe legs and every beat of his stout heart. on the straightaway portions of the track, he bent forward till it seemed he must fall; on the curves, he leaned inward till those near him among the spectators moved rapidly away in alarm. always he kept his unwavering gaze upon the stubby shock of black hair that flaunted before him; and, little by little, it grew nearer and more distinct. his wonderful burst of speed shook the crowd to a mighty roar of applause. he did not hear it. he did not even know they were cheering him. he was dumb to everything but the _thud-thud_ of buck's foot-beats and the beckoning thatch of his jerking head. his only thought was the dogged determination to reach and pass buck. he must do it. he could do it. why, the race--the whole meet--depended upon his beating buck! the time came when the shaggy head was before his very face. he swung to the right, ever so slightly, and parted his lips in a parched grin as he saw from the corner of his eye that it was by his side. when he risked another glance, he was in front of the bobbing head. but even as he exulted, buck drew upon some hidden reserve of strength and pulled up even again. they were at the very finish now, with the tape just ahead. for one last desperate moment, bunny forced his legs to drive a tiny degree faster than they had been pounding, lifted his hands high in the air, threw himself forward, and felt the flimsy woolen string hit his chest,--hit it, cling for one awful instant, and then snap. he had won. the relay, with its eight points for the winner, was safely tucked in the scouts' total of firsts and seconds. race and meet were theirs. the cheering boys who had watched the heart-breaking finish charged upon him. he was lifted high upon the shoulders of roundy and jump, now quite unaware of their own lame and halt condition. s. s. and specs were pounded and buffeted about. of the four runners of the victorious team, only rodman cree was neglected. afterward, in the clubhouse, where the remaining six members of the scout team retreated to get away from the boisterous crowd, there was more jubilation. everybody seemed to want to talk at once; that is, everybody except rodman cree, who sat a little back from the group and stared straight ahead, not smiling or laughing now. so great was the babel that it took horace hibbs a minute or two to make himself heard, when he came in abruptly. "there's an argument outside," he began abruptly. "a--yes, you might call it a protest. they claim you fellows didn't win the race fairly." "who says so?" it was spec's indignant voice. "buck claxton?" horace hibbs' solemn face relaxed into the hint of a smile. "no, not buck. somebody else; somebody not on the all-school team; somebody who doesn't matter." "oh!" said rodman. it was just as if he had said, "i'm glad it wasn't buck." "but what--why--what do they mean, we didn't win fairly?" stuttered specs. "the claim has been made," horace hibbs told them, speaking very slowly, "that your third runner did not pass the block of wood to bunny, who ran the last relay. if it was not properly passed, and bunny ran without it, he may be disqualified." the resultant silence was vaguely disquieting. outside, a wondering breeze whipped through the oak tree at the back of the clubhouse, and a dozen dried leaves pattered on the roof like raindrops. "well?" horace hibbs straightened his shoulders, as if he had a disagreeable task to perform. "suppose we thresh out the claim. what are the facts, bunny?" but before the scout leader could answer, rodman cree pushed his way into the little circle. "i can tell you," he said unsmilingly. "just before i reached bunny, you remember, i tripped and fell. i dropped the block on the track instead of passing it to him." a bomb could not have produced greater sensation. specs uttered an exclamation of disgust. s. s., hero of the first relay, gasped audibly. bunny nodded grudgingly. only horace hibbs seemed to take it in other than in a spirit of disaster. "i am glad there is no dispute about the facts in here," he said. bunny glanced up quickly and found the man's face beaming happily once more. "yes, i am more than glad," continued horace hibbs. "because, you see, i have already taken up the matter with buck claxton." "and he thinks his team won?" snapped specs. "no," said rodman cree quickly. "he doesn't, does he, mr. hibbs?" horace hibbs fairly exuded good-nature. something seemed to have pleased him immensely. "no," he admitted; "buck said--let me see if i can quote him exactly--he said, 'shucks, no, hibbs! we don't want to claim we weren't licked fair and square, when we were. we lost because bunny payton ran the eye-teeth out of me on that last lap. the block doesn't count. that was why i objected to it in the first place: 'fraid somebody would lose it and gum up things. you go and tell your bunch of boy scouts that they beat us to-day for the first and last time--yep, beat us on the level; but that i can get up a gang that will wipe the earth with them at football or baseball or basketball or anything else--except a track meet.' and so"--horace hibbs smiled broadly--"so you may consider yourselves told, and act accordingly. but i should suggest that hereafter you and buck work together for the good of the school, instead of against each other." "we will," promised bunny; and he was heartily seconded by little echoing tags of, "sure, we will!" and "you bet!" and "why not?" "good!" exclaimed horace hibbs. "i don't see how any track meet could prove a greater success." he walked to the door and turned for a final word. "nap, i am inclined to think napoleon was right when he said, 'there are no alps.'" bunny didn't pretend to understand this queer remark. but he would have been a very laggard boy scout, indeed, if he had failed to observe one thing. although horace hibbs spoke to nap, he was looking straight at rodman cree. chapter iv school elections "just a minute, fellows!" called bunny, as the other scouts straggled toward the door of the clubhouse, after horace hibbs had gone. "i want to tell you something. this morning i spoke to professor leland about having a meeting of the whole school, to get ourselves organized and to elect officers. the school, you see, is a good deal like a troop of boy scouts; there must be a leader over everybody, and each branch, like each patrol, must have its leader, too. i mean that a student president is to be elected, and a football manager, and somebody to head the athletic association, and--and i don't know what else." "when will the meeting be?" asked nap. "professor leland says it will be held late this afternoon, just before our first football practice. now, the school may feel like electing some of us to offices--" "of course," agreed specs complacently. "will there be enough offices for all of us, bunny?" "that's just what i wanted to talk about," the patrol leader answered soberly. "we're organized, of course, and we're known by most of the students, and i think we're pretty well liked. if two or three of us are elected, that will be fine. but we mustn't use our--our power to run things. we mustn't try for all the offices. there are lots of other bully fellows in school, and we want the best man elected to each office, whether he's a black eagle or not." "h'm!" said specs gloomily. "that won't be the way buck claxton and his gang will look at it. they'll be out to gobble everything they can get. i'll bet they have it all figured out already." but at a quarter of four that afternoon, when professor leland announced to the school that the remaining fifteen minutes of the period would be devoted to a mass meeting of all the pupils, it was evident that "buck and his gang" had heard nothing of the plan. as a matter of fact, buck looked uneasily at peter barrett, the farmer boy, and at royal sheffield, who came to school in an eight-cylinder motor car, as if he were wondering whether they were at the bottom of this move. marion genevieve chester and clarence prissier also appeared at a loss. rodman cree, who seemed to have forgotten how to smile, showed neither surprise nor any other emotion. "this afternoon," professor leland began, "we have our first football practice. it is customary, of course, for the squad to elect its own captain, but the school should vote on the team's manager. moreover, we shall need somebody to act permanently as president of the athletic association, whose duty it will be to look after all athletic activities. one boy has spoken to me about a literary and debating society. now would be an excellent time for its organization. and, lastly, although it will be better to have a temporary chairman of this meeting, we need a president of the student body to handle future elections. nominations are now in order for temporary chairman." "i am going to nominate you, bunny," nap whispered excitedly from across the aisle. bunny shook his head. "please don't. they will think we are trying to run the school." "i nominate peter barrett," flashed buck. this was too much for specs. "i nominate bi--i mean, charlie jones," he countered. "move that the nominations be closed." it was buck again. "all those in favor of mr. barrett say 'aye,'" announced professor leland, when it had been decided to accept no more names. the room shook with the thunder of the answer. "all those in favor of mr. jones will signify in the same manner." the response was hearty, but hardly a third as loud as the first. "mr. barrett has been elected temporary chairman of this meeting," decided professor leland. "he will take the chair at once." amid a good deal of hand-clapping, peter barrett climbed to the rostrum and pounded on the principal's desk with a ruler. his face was red and his patched clothes very conspicuous, but he spoke calmly and slowly. "nominations for manager of the football team," he invited. a little movement a few seats away caught bunny's eye. after writing something on a slip of paper, royal sheffield passed it down the aisle. "mr. chairman." "mr. claxton." "i nominate roy sheffield." quite as if it had been arranged beforehand, the mention of the name was greeted with a volley of applause. bunny moved uneasily in his seat before rising to be recognized. in some inexplicable manner, he sensed that some plot he could not fathom was under way, and that it was a move against the black eagle patrol. perhaps he could swing the school with a neat speech of nomination. "mr. chairman, i want to propose the name of a boy who has the ability to handle this job as well as anybody in school. in the first place, he has brains; in the second place, he can give his whole attention to his job, as i think he is too light to play on the team; in the third place, he has had plenty of experience, because he's managed a scrub team that we boy scouts have had for the last two years. he arranged games for us, and he fixed the business end so well that at the end of last season we had our football suits paid for and a little left over. and you'll admit that's pretty good for a team of kids. i don't suppose it's necessary to say for him, any more than it is for anybody else in this school, that he's absolutely honest. i nominate emerson elliot meeker." "for the love of marengo!" gasped nap meeker, who had grown very red. a boy named leeton was nominated by a little clique at the back of the room. after a long pause, during which nobody seemed to have anything to offer, the nominations were closed. "count the ballots," ordered peter barrett to the volunteer ushers who had collected the slips of paper from the pupils. it took nearly five minutes to total the various choices. "the vote for manager," announced the chairman, "has resulted as follows: meeker, ; leeton, ; sheffield, . mr. sheffield has been elected manager of the football team." puzzled and hurt, bunny payton crushed in his hand the note that specs had just slipped over his right shoulder. what was the matter? why had nap been so badly beaten? why? opening his hand, he smoothed out the note and read in specs' angular handwriting: bunny: you will have to admit that we are not the only wideawake bunch in school. i have just seen molly sefton, and she says that all yesterday afternoon buck and his gang were going around telling everybody that we scouts had said we were going to boss this school. i don't know who is at the bottom of it; maybe _rodman the athlete_. (specs had underlined these three words.) anyhow, there are a lot of people just waiting for a chance to vote against a boy scout, whether he is any good or not. --specs. bunny set his teeth. he hoped specs was mistaken. but if it should turn out to be true-- professor leland had left the room when peter barrett, rapping smartly on the desk, called for the election of a president of the athletic association. a fellow named bob kiproy nominated buck claxton. specs hopped to his feet, plainly excited. "i nominate--" "move the nominations be closed," interrupted sheffield. while specs struggled against the current, wildly protesting, the motion was carried with a roar, and a moment later buck claxton was declared unanimously elected president of the athletic association. nothing daunted, specs did his best to nominate s. s. for the presidency of the literary society, but again the school overwhelmed him, carrying into office clarence prissier on the crest of the tidal wave. but one more place remained to be filled. however much the opposition had made up its mind to bar all scouts from office, it was clear that specs had grown desperate. before the chairman had finished asking for somebody to head the student association, specs was on his feet, waving his right arm and shouting wildly, "mr. chairman!" "mr. cree." peter barrett was looking directly over specs' head toward rodman cree, who stood, feet apart, in the aisle. the scout construed this recognition as another unjust fling at the patrol, although, as a matter of fact, rodman had risen an instant before specs. "mr. chairman!" the latter repeated. "mr. cree has the floor," declared peter barrett. "i--i nominate--" specs began lamely. the chairman rapped again on his desk. "we are hearing from mr. cree. go on, mr. cree." now, bunny, for one, was in no sense adverse to hearing rodman's nomination. he liked the new boy, and he was sure the new boy liked him, to say nothing of the others in the black eagle patrol. although he might have scoffed openly at the idea, deep in his heart he was confident that rodman was about to show his true colors and nominate one of the scouts; not just any one of them, but their leader, bunny himself. as specs floundered back to his seat, rodman cree began. "i don't want to nominate any fellow for this office," he said. "i just want to make a suggestion. it's this: there are about forty boys in this school and over sixty girls; and i think this last office should go to a girl." he sat down to a gathering applause that began with a few faint hand-spats and ended in a tumult of cheering. the speech was like a douche of cold water to bunny. "i nominate marion genevieve chester!" shouted buck through the noise. immediately, as before, the nominations were closed, and marion declared elected. then, just as the minute hand of the clock touched four, peter barrett declared the meeting adjourned. chapter v nobody "who cheers me up when i feel sad? nobody!" sang s. s. softly, as the pupils trooped down the stairs from the assembly room and out the main door. "who gets me out when i'm in bad? nobody!" it was roundy who carried on the refrain. "that song is pretty near right; don't you think so, bunny?" "i've stopped thinking," said bunny shortly. "it's about time to do something." "do what?" "that's for us to find out." some twenty of the lakeville high boys were reporting for football practice. those with suits shifted to the basement, where a shower bath and lockers had been installed, while the others tramped directly to the field back of the schoolhouse, to begin their work with punting and drop-kicking. the little basement was crowded with candidates in various stages of undress. but because their two years of experience had accustomed them to slipping into their togs in a hurry, the seven scouts were the first to leave. by common consent, they moved to the shady plot under the big oak. "something has happened," bunny said briefly. "for some reason, the whole school is against us. i don't know why; but whatever the reason is, we'll have to prove that we're the right sort, and that we're not trying to run the school or anybody else except ourselves. the question is, how to do it." "i know how i'd do it," said specs. "i'd pull right out of this business, unless they want to treat us right. we've played scrub football for two years and made four trips; and i don't believe there is anybody else in school who has been on a regular eleven. just say the word, bunny, and we'll get up a team of our own." roundy growled assent. "no, we don't want to do that." bunny doubled his fists emphatically. "you remember what horace hibbs said about working for the school. fighting the school isn't the kind of thing scouts ought to do. we don't even care who runs it; all we want is a fair chance to help." "we won't get it. from now on, bunny, any time we try something, it will be waterloo for us," nap jerked an indignant nod. "why can't we take one of them into the patrol for our eighth member?" put in bi. "suppose buck, for instance--" bunny shook his head. "a week or two ago, buck might have joined the black eagles, but now, if we asked him after this election, he'd think we wanted him because we couldn't get along without him and because we could run the school through him. and i guess that goes for the rest of them, too." "i know they wouldn't be scouts," added s. s. "i heard buck and roy sheffield and bob kiproy talking together. what they are trying to do is to get up a secret society to buck our patrol." "then there is just one thing for us," bunny said earnestly, "and that is to go on being the right kind of scouts just as hard as we can. if we take care of our good turns, they'll take care of us. and if we are loyal and helpful and trustworthy, and live up to the rest of the scout law, they're going to take off their hats to us, whether they think so now or not. what's more, i bet that before the end of the year they will be asking us how they can form a patrol of their own." "that's all right!" specs interrupted suddenly. "maybe they will--at the end of the year. but right now four or five of us are going to make the football team. you know more about the game and can play better than anybody else in school. are they going to elect you captain or aren't they?" "can't find out till the votes are counted," bunny returned cheerily. "if anybody nominates me for captain, i'll run, of course." "then you'll run, all right," promised specs. "and if you are not elected, then i'm through with football at this school. ab-so-lute-ly! i'll take my suit home to-night. come on; there's professor leland waving to us." gathering the squad about him, the principal explained that the school board had detailed him as coach. "we may as well begin our practice," he said, "by lining up on both sides of the playground and punting the ball back and forth." first kick at the oval fell to buck claxton. perhaps he was a bit nervous. at any rate, his toe, instead of whirling the ball roof high, sent it tumbling and bounding along the ground, till a low bounce shot it into bunny's arms. "now show 'em what you can do!" urged specs in a hoarse whisper. carefully poising the ball, bunny booted it up and across the field, till it spun down with a plop into bi's arms. "nice work, payton!" shouted the coach. "that's showing him!" commented specs. "he'll see that you didn't play in the back-field two years for nothing. why, there isn't anybody else in the squad who can punt like that." the next ten minutes proved specs' boast. not only could bunny punt far and away better than the other candidates, but he could drop-kick almost as well. and when the players formed in a great circle and fell upon the ball, the members of the black eagle patrol distinguished themselves again. with the exception of roundy, who dove so heavily that the ball escaped through his arms, the scouts downed the pigskin as surely as though it were a watermelon. with the others, this practice did not go as well; even buck claxton missed as the ball bounded at an unexpected angle. "we'll top off with a little running and tackling," announced the coach, as he retrieved the ball from the last man. "jones, you take your place forty yards down the field, to catch punts and run them back. kiproy, you go with him to act as interference. and claxton, when the ball is punted, you charge down the field and try to tackle jones between the knees and waist." with bi in position, kiproy beside him, and buck crouching on the line, the coach kicked. it was a high punt, and buck was almost upon the pair before the ball plumped into bi's arms. kiproy ran toward the tackier, but buck, swerving to one side, eluded him and drove squarely at bi's legs. had the latter been under full speed, he would have toppled like a falling tree; instead, checking himself, he jolted back out of the grasping arms, and while buck floundered in the dust, jogged complacently down the field. "all right, payton; you act as tackler this time. claxton catches the ball. jones is the interference." specs slapped bunny on the back. "show 'em what you can do. grab that fellow, if it takes a leg!" either bunny was luckier than buck, or a better tackler; opinion stood divided. but whatever the truth of the matter, bunny skillfully dodged bi's forward defense (and bi was playing hard, too) and managed to stop buck and actually throw the heavier boy backward. with the next shift, bunny caught the punt. buck, with his lack of experience, bungled the interference, but bunny pushed off sheffield with his open palm, and romped safely out of danger. later, on the last change, bunny shouldered hard-running peter barrett out of the way as interference, thereby giving safe passage to roundy, even after the latter had fumbled the ball. "you are running away with the game, payton," smiled the coach kindly. "if you keep this up, we shall have to put you in a team by yourself." "what did i tell you!" chuckled specs. "no matter whether they like the scouts or not, they have to elect you captain. there just isn't anybody else." bunny said nothing. however much of a glow he felt over professor leland's compliment, there remained the undeniable fact that the school was at outs with the black eagle patrol. it was unpleasant to be in this position, but it was worse still to realize how this attitude hampered the scouts at every turn, both in working for the good of the school and in creating interest in the scout movement. specs insisted, in a very audible whisper, that rodman cree was part and parcel of this conspiracy, and even hinted that he had purposely tried to lose the relay race, both while it was being run and afterward, and had later prevented a fitting nomination for presidency of the student association. "look at that!" he growled, as rodman failed in an easy tackle. "he's no good at anything in the world; anybody can see that. but he makes himself solid with the other crowd by hitting at us." meanwhile, could they have known it, royal sheffield was saying much the same thing about poor rodman, except that it was sheffield's idea that the new boy was trying to "get in" with the scouts by working against the balance of the school. "good enough!" commented the coach, as the last uniformed player went down the field for a tackle. "we have the material for a strong team. now i want you to elect a good man captain, and we shall call it a day's work." there was a moment's silence in the crowd gathered about professor leland, which was broken by specs, his voice high-pitched and shrill. "i nominate the best player in the squad--bunny payton!" without hesitation, sheffield nominated buck claxton; and jack turner, whose farm adjoined the barrett place, put forward peter. "if anybody has the nerve to vote for buck after the showing he has made this afternoon," said specs hoarsely, "i'll eat my hat." the coach himself collected the bits of paper which had been distributed as ballots, and counted the returns. "the vote stands as follows," he said slowly. "barrett has received two, payton seven, and claxton eleven. claxton is therefore elected captain of the team. the practice to-morrow night will be at the same time. all those who have no suits will see me before they go home." the scouts stood dumbfounded. bunny was the first to recover, leaving the group and walking over to congratulate buck with a warm handshake. "well," observed specs, "what about it? do we quit this rotten business, or don't we?" "no," bunny snapped, "we don't. we keep right on practicing every night. if they won't put us on the first eleven, we'll play on the second." "you can play on the third, if you feel like it." specs had completely lost his temper. "as for me, i've eaten all the crow that's good for me. i'm through!" he turned his back and walked rapidly toward the basement. for a long moment, bunny stood fast on the field, while the others of the squad drifted toward the dressing room. rodman cree he could see waiting uneasily at one side, as if he wished to come up and speak to him. but though bunny had none of specs' feeling toward rodman, at that particular moment he did not wish to speak to anybody. he stared toward the road, pretending to be unconscious of the other's presence. from the basement floated the tenor voice of s. s., singing the final refrain of the "nobody" song: "who cares for us an awful lot? who always helps us on the dot? who is the only friend we've got?" and the final word, roared by all of the six scouts, came out in a thundering: "nobody!" chapter vi before the wind molly sefton had something on her mind, a very serious "something," molly thought; and it was because of this something that rodman cree had been invited for his first canoe ride. a light wind curled the water into tiny ripples. it was morning of the last saturday in september, and across the lake you could see a faint yellowish-red tinge on the maple trees of shadow island. the two stood on the pier at the foot of high street, with the seftons' new sailing canoe riding in the water alongside. only the day before it had been delivered from the fair play factory, and now, with the newly varnished paddles and nickled trimmings and white lateen sail, the craft looked very inviting indeed. molly giggled. "what's funny?" rodman turned, mildly surprised. "you are! why, i haven't seen you smile for a week, but now you simply must, else i shan't allow you in the canoe with me." he did smile, half-heartedly at first, and then more broadly and honestly, till the smile had grown into an old-time laugh. "that's better. i am going to take you sailing, after all. but are you sure," she added slyly, "that you can swim?" rodman answered the question with a contemptuous sniff. "maybe you can't, though," he said. "well, i just can," molly asserted proudly; "i can swim two hundred yards. if i kick off my slippers, this dress won't be much heavier than a bathing suit, either. but, of course, father says i must do my sailing where it isn't deep." "then we'd better edge the shore to that bay by magoon's boathouse; there's lots of room for tacking, and it's all shallow water." molly stared suspiciously at the stretch of lake he had pointed out. "how do you know?" "look at the color of the water. don't you notice that it is a whole lot lighter than the rest of the lake? and did you ever see anybody fishing there? and did you ever notice how that steamer from the other end of the lake never puts in, even when it wants to land somebody at magoon's pier?" molly nodded slowly. "but if it's so shallow, why isn't it a swimming-hole?" for a moment, rodman had no answer. "i don't know--yes, i do, too. look at the beach. if you've ever walked along it, you know there's the finest collection of sharp stones on that beach you ever saw, and it must be the same way under water. you couldn't go in swimming there unless you wore hobnailed shoes." "you're right," molly admitted, "though i never put things together like that. of course, then, that's the place for us to go." while rodman steadied the canoe, she climbed in gingerly, holding to the pier with one hand until he was also aboard. "wait just a minute before you push off," she warned. "somebody's coming." "it's horace hibbs," he said, continuing to look toward the bow of the boat and away from the pier. "how do you know?" molly's voice showed her surprise. "by his step, of course. hello, mr. hibbs!" smiling and genial, the scout master bustled out to the end of the pier. "caught a glimpse of you down here; so i thought i would stroll over and see you set sail. better stick to that bay over there by magoon's, molly. it is a nice, level beach, not higher than your chin anywhere. ready for the football game this afternoon, rodman?" "i am as ready as i'll ever be, sir," the boy returned slowly. horace hibbs laughed. "we can't all make the team. you will have your chance some day. all ready, molly? lee-board set? i'll give you an easy start, and in a second or two you will be under way." in no time at all, it seemed to rodman, the sail had filled, and the canoe was slipping over the surface as gracefully and with as little effort as a swan floating downstream. "all you have to do," molly told him, "is to sit still and let me manage the boat. i am a very good sailor." for the second time that morning, rodman laughed. "you may be a very good sailor, but you're not a very old sailor." molly paid out the sheet a bit. "i don't see how you know whether i am an old sailor or just a beginner. maybe i have been sailing canoes for years." "i don't know for sure," apologized rodman, "but not longer than a week ago i saw you in the library getting a book on sailing. now, i never heard of a real sailor reading a book about it. they always know it all; at least, they always say they do." it was molly's turn to laugh now. "you're right. i haven't been at it for years; but horace hibbs took me out nine or ten times in that canoe of his, and the last few times i sailed it all by myself. then yesterday, too, i took him out in mine, and he never gave me a bit of advice, and i tacked and came about and made a beautiful landing--he said so himself. but you do notice things, don't you, rodman? i've never seen anybody that noticed little things the way you do." they were in the bay now, and molly pointed the canoe toward the outer edge of the shallow area. the wind was almost directly inshore, but by keeping the sheet close-hauled molly skimmed along at a merry clip almost into the teeth of the breeze. "ready to come about," warned molly. "turn to your right; starboard, you know." easily and with a fair degree of safety, the canoe came about to port. rodman shook his head. "i wouldn't risk that, molly. when you turn again, running before the wind, come about the simple and natural way--toward the lower tip of your sail." she stole a quick look at him. "how do you know which is better? you told me you were never in a sail-boat before." "well, i haven't been. shucks, that's just common sense. if you come about the right way, the sail only straightens out; if you swing the wrong way, the--the boom, i guess you call it, whips across the boat and may upset it. anyhow, i should think there would be danger. but here is some first-class information. by the looks of the lake, we are going to be in a dead calm before two minutes; and after that"--he studied the horizon--"look out!" true to prediction, the breeze spent itself, leaving the canoe tossing lightly some two hundred yards from shore. only a bank of hard-edged clouds proved that the wind had not gone home for the day, but was merely resting to muster reinforcements. "i'm glad it died down," molly said promptly, "because now i can talk to you. rodman cree, i didn't get you out here just to go sailing, but to find out what's wrong with you. for three weeks, at least, you've been sneaking around like a hermit or something. you don't go with anybody, and nobody goes with you. you used to be happy and light-hearted; now i don't even hear your whistle any more. you don't seem to like anybody, and nobody seems to like you. what's the matter, rodman? tell me about it." he straightened his shoulders defiantly. "well, i guess there is no reason why the fellows should like me. i'm no good. i'm no good at athletics; i can't even play football. the scouts think i am in with buck claxton's gang, and buck thinks i am working for the scouts. why, bunny payton is the only friend i have, and you know as well as i do that he has troubles of his own right now." molly's eyes flashed. "it's miserable, that's what it is; miserable that the school is all split up. but that's no reason why you shouldn't have friends. why don't the scouts like you?" chin on his hands, rodman doggedly told her the story of the field day between the scouts and all-school teams. "the black eagle fellows think i didn't run my best in the relay race; they think, too, that i was willing to toss away the win after it was over. but that isn't the worst. do you remember, at the school election, when i said i thought a girl should have some office. well, the scouts believe i said that just to keep specs mcgrew from nominating bunny for president of the student association." "i'll tell them that wasn't so," molly offered. "it won't do any good. bunny knows the truth, but the others think i am just plain worthless. in football it is the same. i have been out for practice since the first day, but i haven't any chance of making the team. and i am heavier and stronger than a lot of the players on it, too. i've about decided to quit trying. perhaps my folks will move somewhere else next year. i hope they do." "but it is just a question of time," urged molly, "before you learn enough to play on the first eleven. surely you'll do it next year." rodman's shoulders settled back in a curve. "no, i don't think i'll ever make it. i'm no good, that's all; no good at anything." "i'm ashamed of you, rodman cree!" molly took the sheet line in her fingers once more. "yes, sir, just plain ashamed of you for being a quitter! why, if the wind wasn't coming up, i believe i'd make you walk ashore. so there!" "it wouldn't make me feel any worse than i do now." scudding across the lake, ruffling the placid water into combing waves, a gust of wind was leaping toward them. molly surveyed it with approval. her chin was set in a firm little curve, and she nodded her head, quite as if she had suddenly come to a decision. "watch!" she said. as the first breath of the breeze reached them, she let out the sheet. in less than a minute, as it tautened, the canoe was racing before the romping wind, its lateen sail almost at right angles to the craft. in the exhilaration of the speed, rodman forgot his troubles. "be ready to turn--come about, i mean," he warned, "or you'll go ashore." "i know what i am going to do," answered molly, a peculiar note in her voice. "you sit tight and wait." straight as an arrow, the bow cut the water, with the growing wind tugging hard at the filled sail, till the canoe seemed pulled ahead by some great but invisible water animal. "ready!" shouted rodman. "sail's on the port side, you know; don't come about to port." "well, i'm going to." "you'll upset!" "i won't upset! i know i can come up into the wind by swinging to starboard, but i'm going to show you that i can do it the other way, too." "molly!" "you're just a passenger. you sit still and watch." they were barely twenty-five yards from the shore. "coming about!" shouted molly. instead of turning to starboard, she deliberately forced the canoe to port. there was a moment of suspense. then, exultingly, the quickening wind lost its grip on the sail, shivered it an instant as it hit the edge, and finally banged it violently across the canoe. "keep your feet free of the lines!" rodman yelled, as he threw his weight toward the windward side, in an attempt to counterbalance its power. "look out for yourself!" molly flung back. "i'm going--" she never finished her sentence. it was choked short as the canoe heeled abruptly and dumped its occupants into four feet of cool september lake. for a moment they stood facing each other; molly laughing, rodman furiously out of temper. "why--why don't you do what you can do?" he demanded. "why don't you?" molly retorted. there was something in her voice that took the anger out of his system. "wha--what do you mean?" molly pointed to a swimmer far over to the left. "who's that?" rodman shaded his eyes. "it's specs. what's that got to do with it?" "how do you know it's specs?" "well, i'm pretty sure it is a _scout_, because that's where the scouts go in swimming. specs has quit trying for the football team; so he's the only one that would be in swimming, on account of the game this afternoon. and i know the way specs swims. he uses the overhand stroke, and he does it a good deal better with his right arm than his left." "there you are!" molly was triumphant. "why don't you take your own advice, and do what you can do? you are a wonderful observer. you notice everything, and you remember it, too. you can do as much that way as any other. you were right when you said that a girl should be elected to one of the offices, and they all know you were right, no matter what they say. you noticed something there, and you had the courage to tell everybody else about it. what if you can't make the team? if you just do your best, the time is going to come when you will accomplish as much by seeing as the rest will by doing." the look on rodman's face was a queer mixture of shame and pleasure. he swallowed hard. "you're right, molly. you--you tipped us over here on purpose, didn't you?" molly smiled, but said nothing. "yes, you're right," admitted rodman cree. "and i'll--well, i'll prove that you are." he swallowed again. "now, if you say so, we'll walk this boat to shore and get another start." for the third time that morning, he smiled. as he towed the light canoe ashore, he even whistled. chapter vii two yards to go "hold 'em, lakeville!" the crowd surged against the rope that had been stretched along the sides of the football field where the lakeville and the grant city high-school teams were playing the first game of the season. it was a vacant lot at the north of town; not an ideal ground, by any means, but put in order for the sport by being cleared of rocks and stubble and marked with broad stripes of whitewash. "all ready, chick!" "are you ready, bert?" "signal!" "what's the signal?" "steady there." "signal?" the grant city team, which seemed to have occasional spells of confused conversation, appeared all at sea as the ball was about to be put in play. "signal?" "hey, signal!" the left guard and tackle of the visitors rose from their crouch, apparently uncertain as to the play. at that instant, however, the ball was passed. logically, with two men out of the play, lakeville should have had no trouble in stopping the runner with the ball. but he crashed through the lakeville line between right tackle and end, past peter barrett, on secondary defense, in spite of that youth's frantic dive, and so free till, some twenty-five yards distant, bunny, who was playing back, wriggled through the interference and plumped the runner to earth. on the side lines, substitute rodman cree dug his finger nails into his palms. "it's a trick play," he muttered. "they don't seem to understand it themselves, but they gain every time they try it. what's the secret?" "three minutes of the half left!" horace hibbs, acting as official timer, squinted inquiringly at the two teams. "if our boys don't stop that maneuver, grant is going to score, sure as shooting." "it's the third time, too," rodman put in, "but they always gain their distance--and more. i wish i could figure it out." following his resolution of the morning, he had come to the game without hope of playing, but with the fixed intent to do everything in his power for the team. so far, he felt he had failed. true, before the game started, his quick eye had noted that the cord used by the linesmen for measuring downs was almost a yard short. this fact he had pointed out to mr. sefton, acting linesman for lakeville, and the mistake had been corrected. it was rodman, too, who before the game had discovered and levered away a small boulder, hidden near one of the goal posts. in the case of bennett, the substitute halfback, who squatted on the side lines and followed each play with the movements of his body, thus wearing himself out before he was put in the game, rodman had induced the boy, by a joking remark or two, to stretch out and relax until he was wanted. but he felt that these aids were really nothing at all. wasn't it impossible, after all, to do anything worth while for the team when you weren't the coach, and couldn't play, and when everybody had lost faith in you? but, at least for the moment, he forgot his difficult task in the smash of the play that was bringing the first half to an end. the ball had touched lakeville's thirty-yard line, when jump intercepted a forward pass and ran it back a third of that distance. a sturdy drive by barrett brought fifteen more; a forward pass netted another substantial gain; three line plunges left lakeville but twenty-five yards to go. "six--eight--five--seven--three!" cried bunny at quarter. like well-oiled bits of machinery, the lakeville eleven clanked into the kick formation, with bunny back to receive the pass. professor leland shook his head. rodman saw the gesture and understood. because the lakeville team was lighter, the coach had ordered a kicking game, with a try for goal from the field whenever the eleven was well within the enemy's territory. twice before, however, bunny's attempts had failed; there was no reason to expect him to put the ball over the goal this time. the long pass was made and caught. bunny dropped the pigskin point-down, caught it with his toe as it touched the ground, and kicked it toward the looming goal posts. it went short and wide. "he can't do it." the coach was talking for his own benefit. "i was afraid he couldn't." rodman plucked up courage. "no, he can't, of course. i knew he couldn't." the coach turned to the substitute. "what do you mean, cree? i thought payton was a friend of yours." "he is, sir; my best friend. but don't you see why he can't get off a good drop-kick?" the whistle had blown to signal the end of the half. both teams were trooping off the field. but professor leland, after turning as if to join the eleven, stopped by rodman's side. "look here, cree, if you know any reason why payton can't kick as well in a game as he can in practice, suppose you tell me now, before i instruct the boys not to follow this plan of play in the second half." "yes, sir, i'll tell you." rodman's voice was joyous. at last, he was able to do something worth while. "look at the sun. the game started late, and now it shines toward the west goal, directly in bunny's eyes every time he kicks. see that sun? then there's the wind. it isn't much of a wind, sir, but it's kicking up a lot of dust, which always blows toward bunny--into his eyes. but that isn't all." his words came fast; he was afraid the coach would leave before he was done. "those grant city fellows, sir, have three corking fine players at center and guards, and our line doesn't take care of them. they get roundy excited and nervous, and he passes the ball high and wild. that means the kick is sent off in a good deal more of a hurry than it should be. and buck isn't playing close enough to the line to stop that right tackle." professor leland nodded. "i believe you are right, cree. i've noticed a few of those points myself, but you've seen more than i have. all right; we'll give bunny another chance at a goal from the field." the talk between halves to the team was full of encouragement. "we're doing well," the coach told them; "mighty well. but we are going to do just a little better. we must score on that team, and we must hold it. now in this business of field goals--" to the unmixed delight of rodman, professor leland made use of the very arguments which the substitute had brought up a minute before. "when they kick off to us this half, as they will, i want the ball rushed down the field to a point where we can try another drop for goal. then, payton, because we shall have changed goals, your eyes will be free of dust; claxton will handle that tackle; jones and turner will take care of the combination at center, which will allow you, magoon, to make the best pass of your life. we can do it all, i know." as the boys stretched out to rest for the remainder of the period, rodman's satisfaction was marred by only one thought. although he had done his part to aid the team, neither bunny nor the others knew anything about it. and it was their friendship and respect he wanted. "old leland is the boy!" roundy commented lazily to bunny. "he saw what was wrong, and he fixed it up, too. he's the kind of coach to have." "we all know that," bunny responded fervently. "why, you can't kick into the sun and dust any more than you can fly; but i couldn't tell him so." it was on the tip of rodman's tongue to explain the origin of the suggestion. in spite of the impulse, however, he kept silent. "all ready to save the day, cree?" jeered buck. "you'd be all right, at that, except that you'd probably stumble over the whitewash on the goal line and drop the ball." it was hard to keep his temper under these flings with which buck claxton favored him from time to time. so far as his naturally friendly nature was capable of hating anybody, rodman had begun to hate buck. above everything else, he was glad that professor leland was the coach, instead of buck, and that he himself was working for the whole school and not for buck claxton. at the same time, he admitted to himself that buck was not a bad captain, despite his tendency to fumble in a crisis. with roundy magoon at center, turner and bi jones at guards, kiproy and collins at tackles, sheffield and jump henderson at ends, and a back field composed of barrett and collins at halves, buck claxton at full, and bunny at quarter, the lakeville high football team was developing into a snappy, hard-fighting eleven. they were sure of themselves. when the whistle called them out on the field again, rodman noted that they trotted forth with a jauntiness which matched very favorably the do-or-die expression of the grant city players. "everybody in it!" shouted buck, as the team made ready to receive the kick-off. jump caught the punt, running back the ball at an angle and passing it to sheffield, who drilled to the middle of the field before he was stopped. capping this gain came a series of short, sharp plunges, till the distance to grant's goal was halved. "six--eight--seven--five--thirteen!" at the warning of the key number, seven, bi and turner crowded closer to roundy at center, while buck played close to the line to block a threatening tackler. guarded on both sides, with wind and sun at his back, and with a sure, swift pass to handle, bunny drop-kicked a perfect goal. the first points had been scored. the count stood: lakeville, ; grant city, . the crowd, made up largely of lakeville people, shouted joyously, threw hats into the air, and celebrated with much squawking of auto horns. after she had yelled herself hoarse, molly climbed from the sefton car to exchange a word with rodman. "isn't it glorious?" she cried. "we're winning our first game. s. s. told me what professor leland said about bunny's kicking. wasn't that just too smart for anything?" rodman's face lengthened. he wanted very much to tell molly that the advice was the result of his observations. but something, he could not tell what, checked the words. "we're getting them, all right," he said, instead. "all we have to do now is to hold when they begin to batter against our line." "oh, we can do that." molly nodded confidently. "you wait and see." following the kick-off, the battle raged uncertainly in the middle of the field. near the end of the third quarter, however, grant city took the ball on downs, and began a steady onslaught that was formidable. then, when the lakeville line seemed to have braced, rodman came to his feet like a puppet on a string. there it was again! grant was calling for its trick play. "signal! what's the signal?" called a confused voice. "all ready, bert?" "dig into 'em!" "signal?" "wait a minute!" "hold it!" "signal!" grant's right guard and tackle stood up straight in their places, looking helplessly toward the quarterback. "signal?" like the flare of a flashlight, the mystery cleared in rodman's mind. why, of course, that was the answer! why couldn't buck solve it, or bunny, or some one of those players in the lakeville line, already glancing up at the confused babel of voices. surely, they must see through such an obvious device. they must--no! back whirled the ball; forward shot the compact interference and runner. before the wiry half was tackled, he had covered a cool fifteen yards. it was first down again for grant. an unworthy thought burned in rodman's brain. why should he tell coach leland about the play? why not put the problem squarely up to the squad at the end of the quarter, when, by previous agreement, it would be permissible to talk with them? in that way, all of the fellows would see they had been mistaken in him; would be forced to realize that he was some good, even if he couldn't make the team. why should he allow the coach another chance to walk off with borrowed laurels? his forehead creased with trouble wrinkles while his conscience wrestled with the question. no-o!... it wouldn't be the thing to do, after all. he was still a member of the football squad. as such, it was his business to acquaint the coach, or whoever was in charge of the team, with any helpful information. simple loyalty demanded that. "first down; ten yards to gain!" as he foresaw, grant did not attempt the trick again. it was a clever play, but its abuse would certainly lead to discovery. probably, indeed, if they were shrewd--and somebody with brains was undoubtedly in command of the visiting eleven!--they would not try it until they were within striking distance of the goal. then, unless checked, it would mean a sure touchdown and the game. twice more grant city made small gains. as they lined up for the next play, time was called, with the ball in possession of the visiting team on lakeville's thirty-yard line. rodman started. he must warn the coach at once. "professor leland!" at that very moment, mr. gorse, who was refereeing, called to the coach. "just a second, cree." throwing a hasty word of advice to the team, the coach started across the field toward the referee. fifteen seconds passed. professor leland was still arguing some point with mr. gorse. thirty seconds! the conversation went on. well, if he couldn't talk to the coach, he must put the matter squarely before the next man under him. but the person now in charge of the team was buck claxton; and buck--well, buck was buck! he couldn't bring himself to tell buck anything. he even started to squat again on his blanket, when, quite to his own surprise, he found himself walking over to the side of the captain. after all, as long as he practiced with the squad, he must be loyal. "oh, buck!" "well?" snapped claxton. "what d'ye want?" rodman hesitated, tempted at the last second to turn back with the message undelivered. but once more a better impulse prevailed. in a voice purposely low, that the others might not overhear, he offered his explanation. "that play where the whole grant team gets to talking before the ball is passed--watch it! i thought first it was some trick, but it's really only a straight plunge by their half. the reason they gain is because they throw you fellows off by yelling for the signal and all that. part of the line stands up and looks at the quarterback. you all think they are mixed on the signal, but they aren't. the reason it works is because they catch our team when it doesn't expect the ball to be passed, when our own guard and tackle have straightened up a little, too, to see what's going on. yes, they do! i've been watching 'em. but they don't realize it." buck tried vainly to interrupt, but there was no checking the torrent of rodman's words. "they get all your attention off the game, and then, bingo! the ball is put in play. it's a fact, buck! remember now, if they start jabbering at each other, and one side of the line begins to stand up straight, that means the play is going right through there. remember that--" he was still talking earnestly when the whistle blew, with buck, his face stolid, staring steadily at the ground and scraping marble rings in the dust with his right shoe-toe. "ready, lakeville!" shouted the captain; and the game was on again. a lucky fumble brought the ball into the home team's hands, and bunny punted out of danger. after that, steadily and surely, with all the advantages of weight and experience, the grant eleven began to grind its way down the field. desperately, lakeville crouched and set itself; still more desperately, grant city ploughed onward. the formations were slow and deliberate; the visitors risked no fumble or error. often the gains were only a foot or two, but each fourth down found another ten yards covered. rodman realized that some keen brain was directing the team, balancing time against gains, and playing for one touchdown that would turn the threatened defeat into a victory. "curtains!" groaned specs somewhere in the background, quite loudly enough for rodman to hear. "curtains! hold 'em, fellows! hold 'em!" "three minutes to play!" announced horace hibbs. "if we can only hold them from that goal!" muttered coach leland. "grant's ball! first down; ten yards to gain!" a plunge through center netted three of them; a wriggling half eeled around right end for another two; the same play on the other side brought the total to eight. lakeville was fighting gallantly, but superior weight was beginning to tell. "fourth down; two yards to gain." already the ball was in the very shadow of the goal posts. if this final attack succeeded, it meant a touchdown. rodman cree shivered in his blanket. suppose they tried the trick play now. would buck-- "what's the matter, billy?" "ready there, chick!" "signal!" "what's the signal?" "never mind!" "hold her!" the right tackle and guard of the grant city team straightened up. "signal?" called a bewildered voice. rodman gripped his fists tight. was it to go through, even after he had warned buck? but suddenly, hard and high above the din from the grant line, the lakeville captain's voice rang clear: "get down, bi! on the job, kiproy! they're coming through you! it's the right half! everybody together now! _stop him!_" the ball was snapped. like a battering-ram, the right half of the grant team, pocketed in perfect interference, catapulted against the lakeville line,--against bi and kiproy, backed by peter barrett and buck claxton. for just the fraction of a second, the line wavered, threatening to snap. then it tautened into a stone wall, against which the runner crashed and fell back. there was no gain. the trick had failed. it was lakeville's ball almost on her goal line. bunny punted out of danger. grant city had just time to line up for one weak charge before the whistle announced the end of the game. by checking that one play, lakeville had prevented a touchdown and had won, to . in the minds of the victorious players, there was no doubt as to the fellow who deserved the credit. scouts and all, they hoisted buck to their shoulders, cheering him as they marched around the field. from where he stood, rodman cree could see molly leaning from the car and waving her pennant. on the side lines, clarence prissler was executing a war dance of his own. in the midst of a group of girls, marion genevieve chester was leading the school cheer. and it was all for buck! nobody knew what rodman had done, of course, except the coach and buck; and evidently they weren't going to tell. for a bitter moment, rodman argued with himself. should he go on with the thankless job? across his brain flashed the memory of a sentence he had read in the scouts' "handbook", "_a scout is loyal._" it was one of the twelve laws; it meant him, too, whether he was a scout or not. it was a law that applied to everybody all over the world. he didn't have to be a scout to keep that law. with a stiffening of his shoulders, he lifted his head, as if to stare all lakeville in the face. "i'm going to keep on," he said, "whether anybody knows what i am doing or not. i may not be a scout, but i'm as loyal as any one of them. i am loyal to the school, and to the team, and to everybody who has a claim on me. yes, and i am going to keep on being loyal." they were giving three cheers for buck now, with specs, clad in his street clothes, leading them all. before he knew it, rodman was adding his voice to the praise. "and i wouldn't be anything else," he said suddenly. "i wouldn't be anything else." chapter viii the peace picnic this is the story of molly sefton's great peace picnic, which was held on the following saturday afternoon. it didn't seem funny at the time; in fact, nobody could have been more serious or in earnest than molly when she planned the picnic. but afterward--! at any rate, here is what happened: in the first place, the game with grant city had done one very good thing, among many others. after seeing buck stop grant's trick play, master specs changed his mind about not muddying a football suit that season. he would not admit, of course, that buck could compare with bunny; but he began to feel that buck had some good points, after all. so he was back in the squad, trying hard for an end position and with a fair chance of winning the place. that was one difficulty ironed out. "but here's the reason for the picnic," molly chattered to bunny the day before. "first, i want the black eagle patrol to like rodman cree; and, second, i want the rest of the school to like you scouts. now if we have a nice, jolly picnic, everybody will get acquainted and understand everybody else. you see, they all have wrong ideas about each other. for instance, specs thinks rodman isn't good for anything." "well--i," admitted bunny cautiously, "he isn't much of a track athlete or football player." "but he can play baseball. i know he can. i saw him bat the first day of school, even if he does say he hit the ball accidentally." bunny agreed. "all right. we'll take along a bat and ball and a couple of gloves, and maybe specs and the others will like him better after they see him play." "of course." molly was growing more and more enthusiastic. "as for the others: peter barrett thinks you are a lot of snobs and won't associate with fellows who happen to have patches on their clothes and that kind of thing; buck claxton says that you try to run things, and that if anybody outside the patrol has a plan, you oppose it, just because you didn't happen to think of it first; royal sheffield thinks you are a bunch of sissies, who don't dare walk across the road without asking permission from your scout master; genevieve chester says you hate her because she was elected president of the student association, and are always hoping something awful will happen to her; clarence prissler honestly believes you never think of a thing but athletics, and aren't interested in books or education--and you know he is planning to be a teacher." molly paused to take breath. "now, i say that if we have a nice, lively, get-acquainted picnic, everybody will find out his mistakes. don't you think so?" whatever bunny really thought made no difference, because the picnic was already under way; and at precisely two o'clock saturday afternoon some thirty-five boys and girls, accompanied by mrs. sefton, boarded three borrowed launches and crossed the lake to turkey point. and this is how everybody succeeded in misunderstanding everybody else. _how specs found he had been mistaken in rodman cree_ "how about playing a little scrub ball?" proposed bunny at three-fifteen that afternoon. "you come in on this, rodman." rodman cree wrinkled his nose in perplexity. "but i can't play baseball. you know i can't. i've told you so." "oh, rats! you knocked a home run that first day of school, and you can do it again. come on, buck; let's choose up." the game lasted only three innings, for by that time the girls had started a marshmallow roast; but it was quite long enough. in the first inning, rodman played third until he had muffed two perfect throws, when bunny shifted him to the outfield. here he misjudged an easy fly and strained to correct his error by throwing the ball twenty feet over the head of bi, who was wildly trying to nip a runner at second. at bat, in the third inning, with two out, bases full, and bob kiproy pitching a straight ball, poor rodman had his last shred of reputation removed. three times kiproy pitched wide, high balls. rodman scraped the dust trying to hit, and lunged two feet across the plate trying to hit, and jumped high in the air trying to hit. and he never touched the ball. "i see i was mistaken," observed specs, as he walked in from third, where he had been stranded high and dry as a runner. "i thought he was some good at baseball, anyhow, but he's no good at anything." _how peter barrett observed the way scouts regarded patched clothes_ at four o'clock peter barrett was walking in a little grove back of an open field, attempting to memorize a poem for monday's class. also, between times, he was endeavoring to be fair to the black eagle patrol; for a talk with molly had convinced him that perhaps he had made a mistake in supposing the scouts to be snobs. at this juncture, he caught sight of bunny, legs apart, talking defiantly to a ragged youngster from the nearest farm. "no, you can't come in here," bunny was saying shortly. "we have this place for the afternoon. you will have to go somewhere else." "but i won't hurt anything." bunny became even sharper. "i've told you already to go home. run along now. we don't want you here, and you know why. hurry up!" reluctantly and sorrowfully, the boy in the ragged clothes turned and slouched back to the farmhouse. "exactly!" said peter barrett grimly to himself. "just what i thought right along. they're snobs. they haven't any use at all for poor folks." _how buck claxton tested the scouts' willingness to co-operate with outsiders_ five o'clock had come, with the time for serving the lunch brought by the girls still two hours away, when a bright idea dawned on buck claxton. "what do you say to this?" he began enthusiastically to roundy. "about a quarter of a mile down the road, there is a little store where they sell ice cream. suppose we all chip in and buy enough for the crowd? it would be a nice thing to do." roundy's face assumed a wistful expression, and he nodded his head. "but i--i'm afraid i can't," he declined. buck turned to nap. "how about you?" "waterloo!" said nap firmly. "can't think of it!" "busted!" added s. s. lamely. four other scouts gave the same answer. "oh, all right!" remarked buck, with a superior smile on his face. "i'll see some of the others." a little later, he came back with ice cream for everybody. but no scout had paid for even one little frozen chunk. _how royal sheffield discovered whether the scouts dared cross the road without asking permission_ at five-thirty, to the west of the picnic grounds, royal sheffield and s. s. observed a husky young farmer blazing away at a tin can with a rifle. "that's my cousin," observed s. s. "fine!" exclaimed sheffield. "we'll borrow the rifle, pay for some cartridges, and have a big shooting match." s. s. seemed troubled. "i don't think we ought to do that," he objected. "horace hibbs isn't here, and somebody might get hurt." sheffield stared in amazement. "we would shoot at a target, of course," he explained. s. s. continued stubborn. "there are too many of us. somebody might get shot." "tell you what we will do, then: you and i will slip over there and get him to give us a couple of shots." s. s. was more embarrassed than ever. "no, i don't think we ought to do that, either, roy. no, we certainly ought not to do that." he turned toward the picnic crowd. "let's get back to the bunch. maybe they are starting something. yes, let's go back." "all right!" snorted sheffield contemptuously. "but it's too bad horace hibbs won't be here when we eat." "why?" s. s. asked innocently. "if he isn't here, how will you know whether you may eat two kinds of sandwiches and cake, and how hot you may drink your coffee?" and royal sheffield walked away, leaving s. s. without an answer. _how marion genevieve chester proved (to her own satisfaction) how much the scouts cared for her_ it was ten minutes past six when bi and marion genevieve chester, very gay in her new red dress, started over to a little spring to get water for the coffee. bi suggested skirting the rail fence to the lane, instead of cutting across fields. marion genevieve tossed her head. "what's the use of being in the country if you can't walk on the grass. you go any way you want to. i'm going straight across." bi's shoe had become untied, and he was stooping to lace it when wild screams, mingled with angry bellowing, came from the field into which marion genevieve had ventured. looking up, he saw the girl dashing toward the fence, her mouth open and her eyes wide with fright. meanwhile, the bellowings grew loud and furious. "oh, you're all right," he called, as she reached the fence. "you have plenty of time." for a bit, due to her frightened exhaustion, it looked as if marion genevieve might not be able to climb over the fence. bi sauntered toward her. "come on," he said. "you're all right." "if i am all right," snapped marion genevieve, once more out of the field, "it's not your fault. for all you cared, that bull could have tossed me over, and you wouldn't have made a move to help me." "but--" "yes, and i believe you knew the bull was in there all the time, and you never said a word about it." she pointed her finger at him. "didn't you know the bull was in there?" "why, yes," said the hapless bi. "i did, of course, but--" "then don't you ever dare to speak to me again, you hateful boy." and with this farewell, marion genevieve chester flounced angrily back to the picnickers, leaving bi and the pail by the side of the fence. _how clarence prissler interviewed the scouts to learn their views on educational matters_ it was the shouts of laughter that drew molly to the bit of sandy beach near the boat landing. lunch was ready, and she crossed over to let the jolly ones know about the coming meal. there were three principal actors and two spectators in the group. specs, jump and little prissler stood in line on the sand, while bob kiproy and jim collins, stretched at full length, were doing most of the laughing. around prissler's waist circled a sort of rope harness, with a dangling line on each side. these ends, at the moment when the boy began his somersault in the air, were grasped by jump and specs. "i'm not going to try it again," whined clarence prissier. "i'm not going to; that's all there is to it." "oh, you're coming along in fine style," said jump comfortably. "never mind those fellows. just try it once more." "go on," specs commanded. "we're waiting." "yes, try it again, prissy," said kiproy feebly, between shrieks of laughter. "i'm not--" "we're waiting," snapped specs, giving the rope a tug. prissier bent his knees, swung back his arms, and then, with a desperate leap, essayed a back flip through the air. it was not forceful enough, however, and he came down on his hands and knees. though specs and jump kept him from crashing, he landed hard enough to lurch forward into the sand. kiproy and collins rolled over in violent laughter. "you're getting it," said jump encouragingly. "you're getting it." "sure, you're getting it," agreed specs. "but i tell you, i don't want to get it," protested prissier, rubbing the sand out of his clothes. "and what's more, i'm not going to do it again." molly interrupted. "lunch is ready," she said, in a voice so different from her ordinary tones that specs looked at her in astonishment. "what's the matter?" he ventured, after clarence prissier, still weakly complaining, had managed to slip the rope from his waist and was walking with the others toward the spread tablecloths. "you know well enough what the matter is," said molly severely; "and if you're not ashamed. i'm ashamed for you." deliberately, she turned her back on him. * * * * * the balance of the evening was not a success. though the picnic lunch would have satisfied anybody, the picnickers felt ill at ease. the scouts were uncomfortable, and buck, barrett, sheffield, prissier and company were more so, to say nothing of marion genevieve chester. even the launch ride around the lake, which ended the picnic, was a dismal failure, because nobody seemed to want to sing. when the party broke up, it made about as much noise as so many homeward-bound rabbits. almost in tears, molly sefton walked home with her mother, accompanied by bunny as basket bearer. "it--it all went wrong." molly was very near sobbing as she said good night. "oh, why did you do it? i tried so hard, and specs and bi and--and everybody just went and spoiled everything. i heard all about it." bunny looked genuinely astonished. "what did we do that was wrong? you can't blame me because rodman can't play ball. i didn't know he was going to pieces like that." "it wasn't just rodman. why did you keep that poor little boy with the ragged clothes from coming over to the picnic? we had enough to eat for a dozen more. peter barrett said you chased him away. why did you do it?" bunny heaved a sigh of relief. "there was a scarlet fever sign on the house. when i found he lived there, i told him to go away and stay away. i couldn't do anything else, could i?" "no," admitted molly. "but why wouldn't any of you help buy the ice cream?" "we spent our last cent paying for gasoline for the three launches. we borrowed the boats, but we had to pay for the gas. none of us had a penny left." "s. s. wouldn't borrow his cousin's rifle, even for a single shot." "s. s. told me about that. he was right to argue against bringing the gun over for any target shooting. there were too many of us; it would have been dangerous. but it would have been more dangerous for roy sheffield if s. s. had taken him over where his cousin was, though roy doesn't know it. you see, about two years ago, this cousin was driving in town, and roy threw a newspaper in front of the rig, which frightened the horse so much it nearly ran away. the fellow has had it in for him ever since." molly thought for a moment. "bi let marion genevieve chester get almost killed by a wild bull. he knew it was in that field, and he saw that she had on a red dress." "there wasn't a bit of danger," bunny laughed. "the bull was tied up and fenced off from that field. anyhow, marion genevieve was never as close as fifty yards to the bull. she never even saw it." "you'll admit that was an awful thing they did to poor little clarence prissler." bunny grinned. "i was to blame for that. you see, molly, i thought it best not to tell the boys about those people who don't like us, because i figured that if we just acted natural they would find out that we don't mean to be snobbish or stingy or anything else low-down. but i did tell the scouts about prissy's thinking we weren't interested in learning things. so when clarence went up to jump and began to ask questions about the circus, and how the acrobats got to be acrobats, and all that, why, specs insisted that jump teach prissy the back flip. honestly, molly, i believe specs thought he was doing the right thing." molly and bunny looked at each other. then the girl, brushing her hand across her eyes, broke into a laugh, in which the boy joined. "it is funny," she said. "i didn't see it that way before, but it is funny. only everything's in a worse tangle now than it ever was before." "but we'll fix it," bunny said. "we'll fix it somehow." chapter ix the tenderfoot if specs had not stopped on his way to school that morning to play with felix; and if miss seeby, the botany teacher, had not expressed a desire for a specimen of _aspidium fragrans_, which is a variety of fern; and if professor leland had not called a mass meeting for four o'clock that afternoon, there is no telling how the day might have ended for the black eagle patrol. felix was the magoons' dog. he included in his affections all friends of the family and particularly roundy's brother scouts. there were people, indeed, who claimed that felix was the eighth member of the patrol. but that was ridiculous, of course; for how could a dog pass the tenderfoot tests of tying knots, or take the scout oath, or know the history of the flag? felix probably didn't worry about his official position. what counted with him was the friendship of the scouts; and that morning, when care-free specs mcgrew hove in sight, with a stick in his hand, felix barked happily and said, as plainly as a dog can, "throw it! i'll retrieve it for you!" so specs whipped the stick fifty feet away, and felix rushed after it. as soon as he had thrown, specs raced for the corner, to get out of sight before the dog could recover the bit of wood and return it. but felix was too quick for him, too wise in the game. all the way to school they played it till, at the very door, with the last bell ringing, specs hurled it farther than he had any time yet, and then took advantage of felix by dodging into the hall and running upstairs to his seat in the big assembly room. this was a mistake. the way to end a game with felix was to stand sternly before him and say, "go home, felix; go home, sir!" and wait till the dog dropped his tail between his legs and crept away. the school day started like any other for specs. he answered "present" at roll call, joined the others in singing, and listened attentively to the five-minute address by professor leland. it was not until he had marched with the class to room for his botany recitation, indeed, that he thought of felix again. "the _aspidium fragrans_, or fragrant fern," miss seeby was saying, "is a rare and hardy little species, growing in clefts on the faces of precipices. it is aromatic, with an odor said to be like new-mown hay composed largely of sweet-briar rose leaves. this fern is to be found in our state, and i should like very much to have a specimen to show the class. look for a place where there is a bare cliff, overhanging a little, perhaps, so the rain cannot reach the plant, and up above all the trees, so that it can have no shade at all. if you find a fern there, test it by its fragrance, its stickiness and its beautiful brown, curling fronds." she paused, walked toward specs and said, in a wholly different voice, "is that your dog?" specs looked down. faithful felix had evidently followed him through the hall when he left the assembly room and was now lying beside his desk, thumping an eager tail against the floor. his unexpected presence provoked discreet mirth from everybody except the teacher and specs himself. "no--no ma'am. it's the magoons'." common honesty made him add, "but he followed me to school, i guess. i was playing with him." "indeed!" said miss seeby, looking more offended than ever. "_indeed!_ well, put him out--_immediately_!" specs coerced felix into the hall and warned him to go home and behave himself like a good dog. but there must have been meekness and apology in the command; for, instead of obeying, felix went only as far as the outer corridor, where he slunk into a dark comer. two minutes later, in any event, he was scratching at the classroom door and whining for admittance. miss seeby had just shown her pupils a drawing of the fragrant fern and asked again that any one who knew where it was to be found secure a specimen at the first opportunity. she paused suddenly, and her face hardened. "take that dog away," she ordered specs; "yes, take him home. and you need not come back to school yourself until you have a note from your father to professor leland, stating that you are sorry for this outrage and promising that you will not bring that animal here again." very penitent, although somewhat confused over the exact nature of his guilt, specs rose and made dizzily for the door. as he closed it behind him, he could hear the giggling of the class and a smothered reference--he credited it to rodman cree--about "mary's little lamb", interrupted by the teacher's sharp admonition for silence. to specs' credit, be it recorded that he followed instructions to the best of his ability. with an affectionate twist of felix's ear, he strode down the hall and outdoors, even forgetting his cap in his hurry, with the dog tagging at his heels. straight to the magoons' he led felix; sternly he told him to stay there. then he ambled downtown, to explain to his parent as best as he could the disgrace that had befallen him. "your father's out in the country," the clerk in the mcgrew hardware store told him. "he'll be back in an hour or two, though." deep thought slowed specs' steps on the return trip. in front of the magoons' the forgiving felix crept out and made it plain he was sorry and wanted to be friends again. the scout stared at him with a slow smile. "come on!" he called. "i can't go back to school till i get that note, and i can't get that note till father comes back to town. tell you what, felix; you and i will chase out along the lake shore and find one of those smelly ferns for miss seeby. i know where they grow. come on, old boy!" directly after school that afternoon, as has been intimated, professor leland called a mass meeting. after marion genevieve chester, as president of the student association, rapped for order, the principal rose from his chair on the platform and stepped forward. "to-morrow afternoon," he began, "lakeville high school plays its second football game. i have called this meeting to suggest that we organize to encourage the team during the game. we made enough noise at the other; but some of us cheered at the wrong times, when it wasn't quite fair to our opponents, and not at the right times, when it might have heartened our own boys; and some of us cheered all by ourselves, without any attempt to swell the volume of applause and encouragement. what i wish to suggest is practicing the lakeville cheer, till we can pour it forth like the _boom-boom-boom_ of a cannon, and the appointing of cheer leaders for the different sections." nominations were promptly offered, and the candidates as promptly elected. profiting by that other meeting, the scouts made no attempt to win a place. "i wonder," continued professor leland, "if all of us realize that we may help, even if we are not playing on the team itself. let me show you what i mean." and then, while bunny and buck listened just a little more intently than the others, perhaps, he told them of the drop-kicks that had failed in the first game because of wind and dust and bad passes, and how rodman cree had pointed out the handicaps and made possible the goal when the teams changed sides. a little applause rippled over the room. everybody squirmed about in his seat to see how rodman took it, but it was soon evident that the boy had not attended the meeting. "the grant city team," went on the speaker, "had a curious and effective trick formation, which was solved by our boys in the nick of time, thanks to captain claxton. now, if some one of us who was not playing had discovered that trick and warned our team, it would have helped." "mr. chair--i mean, miss chairman!" it was buck claxton who interrupted. very embarrassed he looked as he stood there, and very white, but very determined, too. "mr. claxton," recognized marion genevieve chester. "somebody did discover that trick," blurted buck. "rodman cree did. he told me about it between quarters. that was why i knew what to expect. that--that's all." he sat down with an audible thump. very wisely, professor leland dismissed the subject with a brief, "then we have something more for which to thank cree," and turned to another subject. "suppose we practice the lakeville cheer now," he said. "let's shake the rafters." if the cheers inspired by the new leaders did not actually shake the rafters, it was because the school building was new and rigid. they echoed and re-echoed from basement to attic; they forced marion genevieve chester to thrust hurried fingers into her aristocratic ears; they made you believe that lakeville was the best and biggest and most loyal high school in all the world. in some mysterious way, everybody seemed to think he could help win the morrow's game by yelling just a little bit louder than his neighbor. at the door, as they filed out, bunny payton stopped each member of the black eagle patrol long enough to say, "scout meeting at the club house to-night. seven sharp. be sure and come." roundy was the last to leave. "seen specs?" bunny asked him. the patrol leader was not in miss seeby's nine-o'clock botany class and knew nothing of the morning incident. "h'm! neither have i. that's funny. well, don't forget the meeting." * * * * * rodman cree was not a boy scout, but felix may have overlooked this point. perhaps he realized that rodman was worthy of his friendship, or perhaps it was merely the cap in the boy's hand that drew him like a magnet. whatever the reason, at four that afternoon, when school was dismissed, felix ran straight to rodman and tried to tell him, in dog language, that something was wrong, and that it had to do with somebody connected with specs' cap, which rodman had observed hanging in the coatroom, although he knew its owner had not returned since his exile from miss seeby's botany class. felix nuzzled rodman, yelped sharply and trotted away. when the dog saw that he was not followed, he came back again, very patient with the dull human who couldn't understand plain signs, and repeated his actions. but it was not till the third time that the boy began to get an inkling of the truth. felix clinched the matter by sniffing at the cap held toward him, barking excitedly, and racing off at full speed. rodman may not have been a boy scout, but he constructed this problem and its answer with a deft brain. miss seeby had asked for a specimen of the fragrant fern, which grew on the sides of cliffs. specs had been sent away from school in disgrace, accompanied by felix. he had not returned. the only cliffs near lakeville were to the west, along the shore of the lake. felix had smelled specs' cap and run in that direction. it followed, as surely as two plus two make four, that he was endeavoring to lead somebody to the missing boy. "maybe poor specs fell over a precipice and hurt himself," rodman said, shivering uneasily. "all right, felix, i'm coming. the old mass meeting can go hang!" at first, while the dog kept to the road, there was nothing that rodman could do save follow. but later, when felix left the main highway where it curved to avoid the sandstone cliffs near the lake, and began pushing his eager nose through the underbrush and over tangles of grass, the boy recognized that this was virgin country. specs could not have come that way without unconsciously leaving signs for anybody who came afterward. where some less observant boy might have found nothing, rodman readily picked up the trail. a pebble, lying with its damp side up, proved that a careless foot had turned it over. a splatter of partially dried mud on the trunk of a tree revealed that the passer-by had left the spot some hours before. broken branches, their tips toward the lake, pointed the way like arrows. grass and leaves added their mute evidence by lying brushed forward till their under sides showed. it was comforting, at least, to be certain specs had hiked over this very stretch. "yes, he came this way," rodman told felix. "find him, old fellow!" at the top of the wooded rise they had been ascending, the hill culminated in barren knobs, which broke off abruptly in sandstone cliffs, sheer to the lapping water of the lake. in places, the rock was solid, save for little dirt-filled crevices, from which hardy vegetation sprouted; in others, the stone had crumpled into fine sand, which day by day sifted downward till a niche had been formed in the solid wall. it was toward the top of one of these indentations that felix raced, with rodman hard on his heels. throwing himself flat on his stomach, the boy wriggled to the edge and peered down. some twelve or fifteen feet below him, squatting on a narrow patch of sand, specs mcgrew was engaged in disconsolately tossing pebbles upon the placid bosom of the lake. on either side of his little prison, the walls of the precipice fell straight to the water's edge, apparently extending for hundreds of yards in both directions. specs was safe enough, to be sure, but he was as effectually cooped upon the tiny plot of sand by the smooth rock cliffs and the deep lake as if the iron bars of a cage encompassed him. "hello, specs!" the imprisoned boy looked up. "oh, it's you," he said sullenly. "got a rope?" "no." "oh, of course not! you'd have one if you were a scout. well, what are you going to do about it?" "how did you get down there?" rodman asked. "fell down, you chump!" snapped specs. rodman wanted to snap back, "well, fall up here, then!" but he fought back the temptation. instead, "sit tight," he called, "and i'll have you out in a jiffy." back in the woods, wild grapevines twined over the trees. it was the work of only a few minutes to cut and trim one eight or ten feet long and lower it over the sandy cliff. "grab hold," he called to specs, "and you can walk up the side of this sloping sand-pit as easy as falling off a log. ready! up you come! steady there! careful! careful! there you are, safe and sound and on top of the world once more. now, is there a fragrant fern anywhere around here?" at seven o'clock that evening the boy scouts of the black eagle patrol met in their clubhouse. before seven-thirty they had threshed out the problem of electing another member, and there was not a dissenting vote when the name of rodman cree was proposed to fill the patrol roster. "which is just as it should be," horace hibbs approved. "unless every single one of us thinks he is the best fellow for the place, he should not be invited to join. now, if specs--" "yes, specs!" groaned bi. "we'll never convert specs; no, not in a thousand years. he says rodman is no good, and i guess he'll grow long white whiskers before he'll admit he's wrong. no, siree, if we wait for specs to make it unanimous, this patrol will be one man shy the rest of its life." "i wish," began bunny, "that specs--" the sentence was chopped short by the rattle of the latch. as the scouts turned, the door flung wide, and specs himself popped into the room. "come on in, rodman," he called. "say, fellows, rodman is a whiz. you know the cliffs out near old baldy. well, i fell down one of them this morning, reaching for a fragrant fern, and rodman came looking for me. found me, too, by following my trail and--" "felix led me to him," rodman said depreciatingly. "rats!" scorned specs. "you did it. felix didn't make a grapevine rope, did he, and pull me up the cliff? i guess not. and who reached down and plucked this fern? felix? huh! smell it, bunny. listen, fellows! rodman knows all the things we do about trailing, and the woods, and the birds, and tying knots, and making fires without matches, and--oh, everything. i always told you he was all right!" specs made this statement gravely and sincerely; he had forgotten his former opinion of the new boy. "well, then, what's the matter with making him a scout in the black eagle patrol? anybody object?" he stared at them fiercely, defiantly, as if daring one of them to protest. nobody did. horace hibbs stroked his chin in high glee. "rodman," the scout master said, "can you tie--let me see--these knots: the square or reef, sheet-bend, bowline, fisherman's, sheepshank, halter, clove hitch, timber hitch and two half hitches?" "yes, sir. i know some others, too." "and do you know the scout laws, motto, sign, salute and significance of the badge?" "yes, sir." "how about your country's flag. do you know its composition and history and the customary forms of respect due it?" "yes, sir." the boy was both eager and confident in his replies. horace hibbs smiled. "one more question: would you like to join the black eagle patrol of boy scouts?" there was no formal "yes, sir!" this time. instead, rodman cree gulped once or twice, as if it were difficult to speak, and then fairly shouted, "you bet i would!" "in that case," pronounced horace hibbs judicially, fitting the tips of his fingers together, "i see no reason why you should not take the tenderfoot tests at once. bunny, will you get us a rope?" twenty minutes later, when specs rose to replenish the dying flames in the great brick fireplace, his eyes fell upon rodman cree. "shucks!" he laughed, "what's the use of wasting our wood when that fellow's head is a regular bonfire?" he paused to digest his remark. "say--say, let's call rodman 'bonfire' after this. it's a dandy name for him." horace hibbs glanced shrewdly across the table at the recruit. "do you mind?" he asked. the boy grinned happily. "of course, i don't. i--i like it," said bonfire cree, tenderfoot of the black eagle patrol. chapter x hallowe'en clarence prissler lay motionless upon bed number in the free ward of the model little hospital that the fair play factory had built in lakeville. the nurse pointed him out to bunny payton, and the latter tiptoed softly to the sick boy's side. before prissler opened his eyes and looked up at him, the caller had clenched his hands nervously and swallowed hard. he wondered if he would be welcome, and what he was going to say. in spite of the fact that clarence prissler had been a schoolmate of his since the first of the year, he hadn't exchanged a dozen sentences with him in that time. the misunderstanding at molly's picnic had been deplorable. on the following monday morning, bunny had resolved to seek out the boy and apologize and explain; in a way, that would be a scouts' good turn. but prissler had not come to school that day. he was missing again on tuesday and the succeeding days of that week. saturday the football team played and beat elkana high, and the victory was enough to make a fellow forget almost everything. besides, nobody seemed to know what had become of prissler; nobody, indeed, seemed to have missed him. but when a second week had faded into the past, and part of a third, bunny stirred into action. professor leland gave him the first clue. with something of an ache in his heart, bunny went straight to horace hibbs. "yes," said the scout master, "he is in our hospital. he has been very ill." the man looked thoughtfully at bunny. "do you recall the seventh scout law?" he asked, and quoted it slowly, "'a scout is friendly.'" at the hospital now, while bunny fumbled with his cap, the halting conversation got under way. prissler was glad to see him; he said so very politely and very meekly. after bunny had told him how sorry he was about the picnic incident, they talked of general topics. presently, though, there came another of the embarrassing pauses. "to-night's hallowe'en, isn't it?" ventured prissler. "why, yes," said bunny. he fancied he detected a note of wistfulness in the other's tone. "why, yes; so it is. i--i wish you could come out with us." "i wish i could." the sick boy tried bravely to put some simulation of enthusiasm in his voice, but failed. bunny rose to his feet. he couldn't imagine the bookish and hermit-like prissler skylarking with the fellows; the boy didn't--well, didn't just "fit." he wasn't "one of the crowd." but, of course, you couldn't say that to a fellow who was sick. and you could say something nice! "i'll tell you what, prissler," he proposed. "i'll be your proxy to-night when we're out. i'll pretend, you know, that i'm walking about on your legs, and using your arms and your brain; and then to-morrow i'll come again and tell you all the things you did--through me, by proxy, you understand. it will be the next best fun to your being actually one of the bunch, won't it?" "yes," answered prissler dutifully; "yes, i suppose so." he held out a weak hand. "well, good-by, bunny. it was fine of you to come and see me. good-by." out in the hall, bunny met doctor maxwell. a sudden impulse made him stop the man. "doctor," he said, "i am a classmate of clarence prissler's at the high school. can you tell me how he is getting along?" the physician eyed him thoughtfully. "i am glad you called upon him," he said presently. "the truth is, young prissler isn't recovering as he should; he isn't building up in mind or body after his siege. i've thought, once or twice, that he needed a more intimate touch with the outside world; that's why i am glad you called upon him. nobody else has." "he--well, sir, he isn't what you call a very popular fellow in school," apologized bunny. "doesn't play any games, and keeps to himself, you know, sir, and seems to prefer his own company to anybody else's. there isn't any--any danger that he won't get well, is there, sir?" "there is every danger," replied doctor maxwell soberly. "he is in a weak, despondent condition, from which he does not seem to be able to arouse himself. he has no interest in what is going on, no apparent desire to rally and grow stronger. if it were possible to inject fresh enthusiasm into him, some actual ambition to get up from his bed and out into the world again, it would mean more than any attention or medicine we can give him here. he--well, i'm glad you called, anyhow. we shall hope for the best." there was a big lump in bunny's throat when he left the hospital. it was as if the physician had accused him of some deliberate neglect. after all, he had failed in practice to observe that seventh scout law. he remembered times when he might have sung out a cheery greeting to prissler in the days that were past, or stopped to chat with him a minute, or flung an arm over his shoulder and walked a ways with him, as he often did with the other fellows. but he hadn't done any of these things; he hadn't even suspected that the boy was hungry at heart for companionship, and wanted to share in the joys and disappointments of those about him. bunny payton wasn't quite himself when he joined the other scouts that evening for the usual round of hallowe'en pranks. two or three of them commented upon his moody silence, and eventually he had to explain that he couldn't free his mind of the picture of clarence prissler in the hospital, lying pale and weak and ready to give up on his white cot. he even told them how he had proposed becoming prissler's proxy for the night; told them about it grimly, in short, jerky sentences, as if he dared them to laugh at the idea. none of them did. the following afternoon, directly after school, he called again to see the patient. this time he greeted the sick boy boisterously, as he might an old friend. "here's a glass of jelly," he said, after he had shaken hands. "mrs. lannigan sent it to you." "mrs. lannigan? why, i--i don't understand." "well," laughed bunny, "i think she means it as a sort of thanks offering. fact is, you helped her quite a bit last night." "i? how could i--" "you did it by proxy. you see, we fellows went out last night to celebrate hallowe'en. we strolled past mrs. lannigan's. her gate was swinging loose on one hinge, and sagging down the whole strip of fence in front of her cottage. that wasn't right, of course; our sense of the orderly told us that. so we--" "so you took the gate with you, i suppose." clarence prissler's lips pursed a little. "well, i'll confess that some of us thought of doing just that. but we didn't. if we had been representing ourselves alone, we might have yielded to the temptation in a thoughtless moment. but, you know, i was acting as your proxy. i said to myself, 'what would prissy do?' and so--well, anyhow, we satisfied our sense of beauty by cautiously repairing that fence and bolstering up that giddy gate. about the time we were through, the good mrs. lannigan herself pounced upon us; thought we were walking away with the whole fence, i guess. when she realized what we had done, she was inclined to weep. women are funny that way, you know. but she smiled at the same time, and asked: "'who was responsible for this?'" "'clarence prissler, over at the hospital,' i told her; and then she thanked me for you, and insisted upon my taking a glass of her new jelly for you, and she's coming around to see you in a day or two, and--" the sick boy lifted a protesting hand. bunny saw two faint pink spots on his cheeks. "but i wasn't really responsible for what you did," he declared. "nonsense! of course, you were. i was your proxy, and you had to stand or fall by my actions. and i might have done something else--something for which i should have been very sorry afterwards--if i had been acting for myself only." prissler pondered this for a long minute. then he looked up at his caller quizzically. "did i do anything else last night?" he asked with genuine interest. "lots of things. you wheeled back to its old corner pop gan's peanut roaster, after some fellows--young kids who didn't know any better--had run away with it; and you enjoyed racing it back to its old stand as much as you could if you'd been running away with it. pop's put a sack of goobers aside for you, against the day when you'll come around personally to call for it. and you took mrs. ginty's baby carriage, that had strayed downtown, and put a sack of potatoes in it, and wheeled that back home, too. and you stopped one youngster who was forgetting himself, and lectured him--oh, mightily eloquently--till he saw things a little clearer, and insisted upon joining your crowd. and you happened to be of service to your old landlady." "mrs. stone?" the pink spots in prissler's cheeks vanished. "yes, mrs. stone. seems your trunk had been put out of your room, and you stopped to ask about it. she didn't quite understand that you'd be home shortly and make up the work you do to pay the rent of your room. there were lots of chores undone, and you got the crowd to pitch in and carry the wood to the shed, and cut some kindling, and clean up the yard; and then, over your protest, mind you, the fellows in your crowd agreed to come around daily and do the work you'd been doing, until you were able to do it yourself. you said--" "the boy scouts are going to do it, you mean." "well-l, yes. you said that would make you get well in a hurry, and mrs. stone said she hadn't realized how matters stood with you, and it didn't matter if the fellows pitched in as your work proxies or not. but they're going to, just the same." "oh!" said clarence prissler softly. "oh!" the pink spots in his cheeks crimsoned suddenly--and the color lasted. "and you ran across little jimmy bobbs, too," continued bunny, smiling a little over the recollection. "he was standing on a corner and looking mighty lonesome, and when you invited him to fall in with the other fellows in the bunch he jumped at the chance and said 'thank you!' away down in his throat. and he turned out to be a dandy sort of fellow himself. seems he's wanted to know you for a long time; says you're the smartest boy in school. he's coming around to the hospital this afternoon to see if you'd mind his bucking up on his studies with you as an audience. he thinks it will help you to catch up and help him, too, at the same time. want to see him?" "why--why, yes, i certainly do. i--i've been worrying a lot, bunny, about my lessons." "you needn't any more, then. because nap meeker is planning to do exactly the same thing. wants to. and all the other scouts are coming to see you, too, if you don't mind their crowding in here." prissler blinked his eyes. "i--i don't mind," he said, with a catch in his voice. "well, let's see. i think that was about all you did. oh, yes, i nearly forgot professor leland. i think he was a bit suspicious of our actions. anyhow, he loomed up suddenly in a dark spot and demanded to know if we had done or were planning to do any ma--malicious mischief. i just wish, prissy, you could have been there in your own body to hear yourself--your proxy, i mean--deny any such intentions. specs mcgrew asked if he didn't understand that you, clarence prissler, were leading the crowd. professor looked at me kind of funny, and i had to explain. he just smiled and begged our pardons, and said that if he had known you were at our head, even in spirit, he wouldn't have bothered to question us. he knew you!" there followed a brief silence. bunny broke it by remarking, in a careless manner: "now that rodman cree is a member of the black eagle patrol--you knew that, didn't you?--and almost ready to be promoted from tenderfoot to second-class scout, he's beginning to worry about ever getting to be a first-class one. you see, prissler, before he can be advanced, he must train some other boy to become a tenderfoot, and he can't find anybody in town who thinks enough of the scouts to want to be one of them." the boy on the bed squirmed uneasily. "but when he does--" "bunny!" "yes?" "would--would he train me?" gasped prissler. "i--i think i am just beginning to understand you scouts, and--and"--the words came out in a torrent--"and--oh, bunny, i want to be a scout!" bunny jumped up and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "why, bonfire will be tickled to death to train you; yes, sir, plumb tickled to death! do you mean it, prissy?" the sick boy could only nod dumbly, but there was undeniable happiness in the eager bobs of his head. for ten minutes more, the two were deep in the intricacies of scoutcraft. when bunny finally rose to go, the patient was breathing rapidly, and his cheeks were flooded with color. a day or two later, bunny met doctor maxwell on the street. "i don't pretend to understand young prissler's case," the physician said; "but he's taken the most marvelous turn for the better. he will be out of the hospital in a week now. as nearly as i can diagnose the improvement, something has aroused his interest in the outside world again. something has restored his faith in mankind, and made him want to live and help and be helped. i suspect--" and the man laid an approving hand on bunny payton's shoulder and left the sentence unfinished. "by the way," he added, "what about hallowe'en? i forgot all about it, and nothing in the way of results happened to remind me of the occasion. didn't you boys get out? or was the night a failure?" "we were out, sir," said bunny, grinning happily, "and i think--in fact, i know--that there was never a better nor a more successful hallowe'en in this town. ask clarence prissler over at the hospital. he led our crowd." chapter xi the touchdown buck claxton was genuinely worried. it was thursday of the week that was to end with the post-season football game against belden high, and the practice was going all wrong. the little boy scout, bunny payton, who as quarterback was the most important cog in the machine, wasn't "delivering." because he was big and heavy, and because the regular team needed defensive drill, buck had been shifted temporarily to the scrubs. and that was the reason, also, why two very poor players, whose names do not matter, had been substituted in the line. coach leland wanted to test his backs on defense. the scrubs were given the ball in the middle of the field. the two elevens crouched, facing each other, and awaited specs' signal, which came presently, like the crack of a whip. on the last number, the backs broke into action. it was a line plunge, with buck carrying the ball. the weak link in the first team's line snapped at once. bunny payton, backing it up, gave ground and swerved into the path of the runner. buck, big, solid, a veritable battering-ram when he was under way, looked as if he might crush this ambitious tackier as easily as an elephant might an ant in its path. but the ant, who was bunny, did not falter. as buck reached him, the boy leaped toward the runner, tackling low and fiercely, and brought his opponent to the ground with a tremendous thump. buck sat up presently. he was unhurt, except as to pride. "trying to lay me out?" he blazed. "you needn't half kill a fellow to bring him down." the look he gave bunny made some of the other substitutes shake their heads wisely. the little quarter had offended his captain. it wasn't exactly diplomatic, and--well, they guessed he wouldn't try it again. but a few minutes later, when exactly the same situation arose, they wondered what he would do. again buck took the ball on a straight line plunge; again his interference swept aside the other tacklers of the secondary defense, leaving only the shunted bunny as a possible danger. runner and tackler met. the two came together with a crash. buck staggered forward blindly, tottered, caught himself once, and then fell heavily. bunny rebounded from the shock, but he did not plunge to the ground. instead, a very remarkable thing happened. in the very twinkling of an eye, so sudden was the transformation, bunny ceased to be a tackler and became a runner. in some mysterious manner, the ball that buck had been carrying, snuggled in the crook of his arm, was now the other's. there appeared to be no tardy recognition of the shift on bunny's part. even as buck was falling, the quarterback started racing down the field toward his goal. the point of the ball was tucked into his armpit. his hand clasped the other end. the biceps of his arm pressed hard against the rough surface. bunny could run like a deer. before the astonished scrubs could recover their wits, he was flashing past, dodging now and then, circling some more alert tackler, pushing off another with a moist palm, but always sprinting over the white lines that marked the field. but the surprising play was not yet done. without any apparent reason, the runner slowed to a trot and finally stopped altogether. specs rushed up and tackled him apologetically. a certain touchdown had been sacrificed by bunny on some mad impulse. the little crowd of rooters that fringed the field babbled its consternation and disgust. the scrubs smiled knowingly at each other. coach leland plucked off the players who had piled on the boy with the ball, and then yanked the youngster to his feet with a practiced hand. "what made you stop?" he demanded hotly. if there was one thing more than another that angered the coach, it was an exhibition of mental stupidity. bunny looked down the field; down to where buck was striding forward belligerently. scrubs and regulars alike bent forward to listen. when he spoke, he faced the coach squarely. "i committed a foul," he said slowly. "when i started to tackle buck, i saw that he was holding the ball loosely. it had slipped out of his armpit. so, under cover of the tackle, because of some crazy notion, i jerked it away from him. i violated a rule. i'm sorry." coach leland opened wide his blue eyes, but he said nothing then. a little later, when he was by buck's side, he asked his question. "did you fumble when bunny tackled you?" "maybe i did," said the captain shortly; "it seems to be a habit of mine." he kicked at a little clod of dirt. "hang it all, coach," he volunteered, "the--the scout was grandstanding for my benefit. he's afraid of me." the practice that day ended with drop-kicking. lining up the scrubs some thirty yards from the goal, leland gave bunny the ball, with instructions to boot it over the bar. bunny failed on five successive attempts. twice he fumbled good passes. twice he caught the ball with his toe too much on one side. once he juggled it wildly, allowing himself to be tackled before he made the kick. and each time, as buck noted with wrinkled brow, opposing players were close enough to threaten any kicker who might have fear in his heart. when he made his fifth failure, buck groaned. with the post-season game for the state high-school championship only two days away, his quarterback, the very pivot of the team, was in a stage of cowardly panic. he wished now that the game with belden had never been arranged; that they had been content with a clean slate for the season; that they had agreed to claim the title jointly with unbeaten belden. saturday afternoon came at last, with no change in the situation. the two opposing teams lined up. "are you ready, belden?" asked the official. no answer. "are you ready, lakeville?" crouching just behind the line on which the new football lay teed, buck claxton nodded his head. the great crowd stilled expectantly. on the side lines, blanketed and squatting like indians, the substitutes hunched forward their shoulders. the official shrilled a blast on his whistle. before the echo had died, bunny payton's toe lifted the ball from the ground and sent it hurtling high and far toward the opposing eleven. the game was on. as he ran, buck sighed with relief. he had been afraid of that first kick; afraid that bunny's toe would thug into the ground, or hit the ball askew, or roll it feebly along the ribbed field. but now, with the game actually begun, the splendid kick-off gave lakeville's captain hope. as buck ran, indeed, he let out his breath with an explosive gasp, and the decisive way in which he downed the belden fellow who caught the ball was proof of his renewed confidence. if bunny payton could only keep that yellow streak under cover! in the gruelling battle that followed, buck was forced to admit that bunny shirked no duty. his end runs were triumphs; his forward passes were pinnacles of accuracy; his share in the interference were niceties of skill and training. but always, as the tide of the game flooded or ebbed, buck shivered apprehensively over possible situations that might reveal to their opponents his quarterback's cowardice. as they might have expected, belden proved no mean enemy. they could gain at times; once, indeed, they might have pushed through the wavering belden line for a touchdown, except for a fumble. and that fumble, as buck recalled with grim pain, was his own. couldn't he ever learn to hold the ball once he had it? but belden gained, too. like lakeville, when they couldn't advance the ball, they kicked. and so, for three full quarters and part of another, neither team was able to cross the other's goal line. now, near the end of the final period, the two teams fought in the middle of the field. a scoreless tie seemed inevitable. it was lakeville's ball. as the players scrambled into position for the scrimmage, captain claxton held up his hand. "how much longer?" he shouted toward the side lines. "four minutes to play," the timekeeper told him. buck groaned. they could never make it; they could never carry the ball over those countless lines of white to the goal beyond. true, they might go on smashing forward a yard or two at a time, even making their distances often enough to hold the ball, for belden was clearly tiring; but it would take longer than four minutes to reach the last rib of the field. buck felt suddenly weak and limp. he would never make that glorious touchdown of which he had dreamed each night of the past week. "well, don't quit!" he snarled at his quarterback. bunny stepped into position. "line up!" he yelled shrilly. "line up! seven--four--six--two--ten!" buck's tired brain wrestled with the signal. it was a new play they had learned that past week, a double pass, with the quarterback eventually taking the ball. well, why not? bunny was fast enough, and there was no element of courage involved. besides, in this desperate eleventh hour, it was high time for trick plays. the ball was passed. as the belden line braced for the onslaught, buck swung in behind bunny, took the soiled pigskin from him, ran with it toward the left end, and then slipped it backward into the boy's eager hands. the other team was jamming in front of the lakeville captain, and he plunged head-down into the mass, to carry on the deception. as he slipped and fell, his ears caught the first rumble of a mighty cheer. perhaps-- he flung off the fellow who had piled upon him and sprang to his feet. down the field, almost in the shadow of the goal posts, bunny was just going down under the tackle of the belden man who played back. the trick had succeeded. they were within striking distance now. if bunny had the nerve to try it again, he might score. before buck reached him, the quarterback was on his feet again, dinning his eternal, "line up! line up!" as the team rushed forward to obey, the boy spat out his signal, "nineteen--thirty--seven--four--six!" what play was that? a cold wave of horror enveloped buck. his numbed mind told him nothing. it was surely not a repetition of the trick they had just tried. he might have known it would not be, he thought contemptuously; this was a ticklish situation calling for every ounce of nerve a player possessed. bunny would take mighty good care not to use himself in the pinch. but what play was it? "signal?" the captain called. again the quarterback rattled off the numbers. and then, abruptly, buck's mind cleared. with only a precious yard or two to go, the play must be a line plunge, of course. tricks were for long gains under desperate conditions. but why "seven--four--six"? the captain asked himself in amazement. that wasn't his signal; and it was only fair, only right, that he, as the team's leader, should have the honor of the touchdown. "signal?" he yelled angrily. a third time it came. buck knew the play now; it was barrett, right halfback, between tackle and guard. so that was it! another fellow was to carry the ball over the line. bunny was venting his petty spite by refusing to allow his captain to make the attempt. "change signals!" buck stormed. in his position behind center, bunny straightened a little from his crouching position. "i'm taking the responsibility for this play, buck," he said evenly. and then, like a flash, the signal rolled out once more, the ball chugged into the quarterback's hands, and the two teams were scrimmaging. to his credit, be it said that buck charged with the others. the belden line sagged, tautened, broke for an instant. the players eddied and tossed, and were sucked into the human whirlpool. somewhere at the bottom, buck heard the long pipe of the official's whistle. then, as daylight reached him, he discerned the smeared white goal line directly beneath him, and on it--no, a good inch beyond!--the soiled yellow ball. it was over. the touchdown had been made. the balance of the game was like a vague dream. somebody kicked the goal and added another point. somebody kicked off. the teams lined up once more before a whistle ended the game. lakeville was interscholastic champion of the state. bunny slapped his captain on the back. "we beat 'em, buck!" he yelled. "we beat 'em, didn't we?" "yes," said buck claxton distinctly, "we beat them, you little sneak!" the team cheered belden then; and belden came back with a pretty poor apology of the formula that runs, "what's the matter with lakeville? they're all right!" and then belden, sad, defeated, yearning for seclusion, shucked out of its football suits and into street clothes, and went away from there just as fast as it could. before the game, the scouts had invited the lakeville squad to the black eagle patrol clubhouse for supper. when the invitation had been extended, buck, barrett, sheffield and co. had looked blank, neither accepting nor declining. but at six o'clock they were there, appearing awkward and embarrassed, but altogether too happy over the result of the game to bear any resentment. that is to say, all of them looked that way except buck, who stared straight ahead during the meal, and wouldn't talk, and didn't appear to be listening to the jokes and jests that were bandied back and forth. but when the meal was done, and bunny, as toastmaster, with clenched hands under the table, where nobody could see them, and a forced smile on his face, which everybody could see, rose and said easily, "i guess we'd all like to hear from the captain," buck met the issue squarely. "i'm not much of a speech maker," he began slowly (and rapidly proved that the literary and debating society had taught him to be a very good one, indeed), "but there's something that must be said, and i'm going to ask you fellows to listen while i say it. this last week has been a hard one for all of us, i guess, but i think the one who's felt the hurts most is quarterback bunny payton." they all looked at bunny, of course, and the boy felt his face go white. what was the captain of the football team going to say about him? "back a while," buck went on doggedly, "i thought bunny was no good. i guess a lot of you saw what happened during practice--you know, when i was sore at him, and he tackled me and got hold of the ball, and then wouldn't make a touchdown because he thought he had committed a foul. he was--was in pretty bad, because it looked as if he had a streak of yellow and was afraid of--well--me. i thought so. but i was--was way off. it was just plain nerve that made him stop when he had the ball. "and about those goals he didn't kick. you know what i mean. it sorta cinched what i thought about him--a coward, i mean. but that wasn't right, either. he had gashed his hand on a rock; that's why he fumbled and juggled the ball and dropped it crooked on his toe and--and everything. "then in the game to-day, he played like a trooper; topnotch all the way through. you know what i mean--that trick play that put the ball right on top of the goal and--and everything. "well, i wanted to make the touchdown then. jiggers, how i wanted to do it! but he wouldn't let me, and i was sore at him all over again. you know what i mean--how i felt, captain and everything, and he wouldn't give me the ball. but i've been thinking that over, and i hand it to him for his nerve again. he gave barrett the ball, and barrett went over with it. say, that riled me. why didn't he let me do it? but--well, i've figured that out now. barrett's a good old sobersides hoss; you can always count on old barrett. and me--no. i fumbled once before in the game; i guess maybe i'd 'a' fumbled again, and tossed away the chance to win. maybe. you know what i mean. so he passes me up for barrett. talk about nerve! why, that took more courage, i'll bet, than anybody else here ever thought of having; about a million times more. but he did it. he knew the sure way to win that game. understand? "well, now listen to me. maybe i won't go to lakeville high next year. so we ought to elect a captain who will--sure. you know what i mean. and--well, say, how about bunny payton for the job?" it seemed to the little quarterback that the fellows had gone suddenly insane. before his dazed mind could fully grasp buck's suggestion, he had been unanimously elected captain, and buck was congratulating him, and the party was breaking up. "but--but," he stammered to buck, "we need you for next year. are you sure you won't be in school?" "well," drawled the ex-captain, winking prodigiously, "i may die before then, or--or make a million dollars and build me a school of my own, or--or something like that. anyhow, you'll be a better fellow for the job than i ever was. you should have been leading the team this year." that was all, except that at the door buck drew bunny aside. "look here," he said. "i'm just beginning to realize that you scouts are the real goods. you're fine fellows, and you're fine athletes." he looked warily over his shoulder. "it strikes me i'd like to be a scout myself, if they ever get up another patrol in this little old town of ours." chapter xii the icy hill two days before thanksgiving, it began snowing in the late afternoon, going about the business of carpeting the earth in white with such stubborn determination that weatherwise folk were surprised when the following morning marked the end of the storm. the sun peeped forth; the snow packed into a soggy, slushy mass, only to freeze that night under the grip of a bitter wind from the northland. as a result, thanksgiving was ushered in to the merry jingle of sleigh bells, with cutters crisping their way over the icy surfaces of the roads. breakfast over and chores done, bonfire cree strolled forth that morning to take a look at the new winter world. he was whistling cheerfully, like a true boy scout, and he was keeping his eyes alert for some opportunity to do a good turn before the day emerged from its swaddling clothes. his chance came at the top of "old forty five hill", where a group of what bonfire decided must be the littlest and the most shopworn boys in town were staring forlornly at the broken runner of a bobsled. their ages ranged from perhaps eight to eleven, and they were clad in a collection of last year's mufflers, sweaters and overcoats that would have made a ragman frown. "hello, mr. raggedy tatters!" bonfire greeted a youngster who appeared to be the leader. "how did you break your sled?" "i didn't break it. petey flack did; he coasted over a rock. and my name isn't raggedy tatters, either; it's jimmie white." "thanks!" said bonfire. "glad to know you, jimmie white. let's take a look at that sled." he turned it over and ran a practiced eye over the runner. "h'm! can't patch that without iron braces, and the blacksmith shop is closed to-day. 'fraid you'll have to call off this coasting party till to-morrow." "aw, the snow'll melt by then," objected the youngster. he dug the toe of his torn shoe into a little drift and kicked disconsolately. "let's nail on a brace and try it." "your grandchildren will always be sorry if you try that," bonfire told him gravely. and then, somehow, his mood changed; he began to understand the disappointment of the little boys, and to sympathize with them, and to search his mind for ways to help. "look here, jimmie white," he said abruptly, "know where the scouts' clubhouse is?" "sure!" "well, you take this key, trot over there, unlock the door, and--" "--and what?" "and bring back the long bobsled you'll find inside. here," he called, as jimmie grabbed the key and sped away, "don't forget to lock the door again." "no," flung the boy over his shoulder; and, as if that were inadequate to such a benefactor, "no, sir, i won't, mister." "what's the idea, cree?" asked a voice behind him. bonfire turned quickly. in the seat of a sleigh that had driven up sat peter barrett, while the head of a little chap of five or six, too like peter's to belong to anybody but his little brother, barely showed above the snug fur lap-robe. "morning, barrett!" bonfire called. "oh, i'm just going to take my friends coasting." "your friends?" repeated peter barrett, studying the group of little boys. "of course," said bonfire easily. "aren't you my friends, fellows?" they were. they said so emphatically and loudly. "you see," grinned bonfire. "oh, i'm just getting acquainted with them, if that's what you mean. but we're going to like each other. their sled's busted; so i sent jimmie white over to the clubhouse for the scouts' bob. we went over that last night; put in a new slat, sand-papered the runners, and so forth. want to go down the hill with us, peter?" "i don't mind," admitted the farmer boy. he tied his horse to a tree and tucked the fur cover more snugly about his little brother. "say, i--i'd like to steer once, if you'll let me." "come ahead!" by this time jimmie white had arrived with the bobsled. almost before it had been straightened for the start, the youngsters were scrambling aboard, with peter barrett in front, bonfire just behind him, and the others piled on hit-and-miss to the very last inch of the broad plank. a second later, after some left-over boy had given them a push, the big sled was coasting over the icy trail, gathering speed with every foot. the hill had been nicknamed "old forty five" because of its steepness; so sheer was the drop of the road in places that the suggestion of an angle of forty-five degrees was not altogether ridiculous. it seemed even steeper to bonfire. he sucked in his breath gaspingly. "don't be scared," peter barrett flung back over his shoulder. "i'm not scared," protested bonfire, but he knew his voice was far from convincing. near the foot of the long hill, a railroad track cut across the trail. bonfire was peering at it over the steerer's right shoulder when the bob veered sharply to the left. in spite of himself, the scout grunted audibly. a moment later, when the long sled straightened out again, swishing along a road parallel to the track, he would have given anything in the world to have recalled that sound. they ground to a full stop. bonfire piled off with the others, pretending not to see peter barrett's superior grin. "i think it would be best," he offered, "to take that turn with a long sweep." "and sink the runners into the soft snow at the side?" asked barrett scornfully. "why, that would slow the sled to a walk, and it wouldn't run more than fifty feet farther. i know how to steer, and i am willing to take a chance. you scouts--" but he thought better of it, and left the accusation unsaid. during the long climb up the hill, bonfire was silent. but at the top, when the bobsled had been turned for the next trip, he took the forward position. "sure you can manage it?" asked barrett. "can you make the turn this side of the railroad track, where the road branches?" "of course." "because, if you can't, you'd better let me steer again. you see, the other branch goes straight ahead over the track and then around a corner with a big drop to the creek on the outside edge. it's dangerous." "i can turn this side of the track," said bonfire doggedly. "all right," decided barrett. "i'm ready." so, it seemed, were the raggedy-taggedy youngsters. bonfire braced his feet on the crossbar and gripped the steering lines. another left-over boy, not the same one this time, pushed them off. "clear!" he shouted the warning down the road after them. "clear for coasters!" halfway down the slide, round the first bend, the long bobsled spun into a straightaway that was partially blocked. a heavy wagon on runners seemed to occupy the entire road. bonfire saw it instantly. there was a chance--just a bare, scant chance--that he might steer by on the right, grazing the ponderous wagon. but there would be only a foot or two to spare, and at the terrific speed they were traveling a collision might mean serious accident. his quick eye told him something else, too. on either side of the road, the snow was banked high in great cushions. he made his decision instantly. jerking desperately on one line, he steered the bob off its course and into the drift, turning it completely over and spilling its human load into the soft mattress of snow. nobody was hurt in the least. the little fellows picked themselves up, righted the long sled, and dragged it back into the road. two or three of them stared solemnly at bonfire, but only jimmie white ventured any comment. "a good steerer could have slipped past that wagon, i guess," he said slowly. "your--friend here could." bonfire shut his lips tightly. what was the use? perhaps, after all, he had been too cautious. it didn't matter much now, one way or the other, for he knew very well what peter barrett was thinking of him. they dragged the bobsled to the top of the hill again. at the very crest, while they were stooping to turn it about, little jimmie white uttered a sudden cry. as the others whirled, startled, jimmie pointed a trembling finger down the hill. ten yards away, gaining momentum as the first runway of the trail fell sharply downward, was a single sled. upon it lay a tiny figure. too small to know anything about steering, the child was simply allowing the sled to carry him along in the groove worn by the coasters. for a long moment, the little group stared in stunned bewilderment. then, all at once, three of them spoke. "he'll go across the railroad track to the turn of the creek," said bonfire, with queer huskiness, "and--" "--and tumble into the creek," wailed little jimmie white. "the rocks there--" "catch him!" shouted peter barrett. "catch him! stop him! it--cree, it's my kid brother!" it was too late to whirl the bob about and begin the chase with that. two of the youngsters were tugging at it, but precious seconds were being lost. there was just one thing to do, and the three who had spoken seemed to recognize it the same instant. each grabbed a light, single sled from its dazed owner. each lifted it clear from the icy trail, ran for perhaps twenty feet, and then flung himself and sled headlong upon the slide. luckily, the road was wide. the three sleds, already racing dizzily from the running start, sped along side by side, with peter barrett's on the right, little jimmie white's in the middle, and bonfire cree's on the left. far ahead now--hopelessly far, it seemed to bonfire--the runaway, with its precious human cargo, jounced and jolted its way down old forty five. weight told at the outset. in the first hundred yards, little jimmie white dropped slowly behind the other two, despite his frantic efforts to keep up. this left only peter barrett and bonfire actively in the chase, and they raced along as if some invisible link yoked them together. at the first bend, barrett swung a little wide. bonfire took the turn at a sharp angle, shutting his eyes for a moment as his sled ran on one runner, and leaning inward till half his body was over the side. it seemed to him the sled would never right itself again. but it did. with a welcome clank, the soaring iron came back to the surface. when they straightened out once more, beyond the turn, he was a full length ahead. the memory of the wagon that had blocked the bob made him shudder. suppose another should be on the road! but when he saw that it was clear, with only the black dot of the runaway sled blotting its white surface, he drew in a long breath of thanks and relief. he could forget the danger of a possible collision now; he could give to his mad coast every shred of his skill. he flattened himself low on the sled; that would lessen the wind friction. he steered almost wholly by swaying his body; to shift the course by digging a toe into the trail would mean a tiny loss of speed. he swerved around cloying drifts of snow, he avoided holding ruts, he picked the icy sweeps of the road. as the sled answered to each trick of jockeying, he wondered grimly what peter barrett thought of his coasting ability now. he might be too cautious, perhaps, when recklessness meant danger to others, but peter could never again sneer at the way he steered. but even with all these aids, he gained slowly on the sled ahead. he had hoped to catch it halfway down the hill. but as he whizzed past the rock that marked this point, he was still far behind. well, there was still a long stretch before the runaway reached the railroad track. he might catch it yet; might--no, must! under him, the runners rasped and sang. tiny particles of ice and snow pelted, sleet-wise, in his face. rocks and bumps in the road seemed to leer at him. they hid from sight till he was fairly upon them; then tried to upset his sled. once, in steering about a particularly dangerous clod, he barely skimmed it; and it tore the mitten half from his hand, and knocked the skin from his knuckle. the hurt bled a little, but his fingers did not relax. he was going like the wind now. the distance between pursued and pursuer was being eaten up in great bounds. if only he had a little more time! if only the railroad track, with its fatal turn beyond, were a little farther away! mingled with the _scratch-scratch_ of the iron-shod runners came another sound,--loud, long, mournful. he wondered vaguely what it was. perhaps peter's sled behind was sending out that doleful wail. then, like a flash, came the explanation. it was the whistle of an engine. a train was coming over the railroad track. if the child on the sled crashed into it-- in a frenzy of alarm, bonfire lifted the forepart of his sled from the surface. it skewed and tipped. one runner creaked ominously. forcing himself to think only of the business of steering, he flung it back on the trail, till the runners pointed dead ahead once more. he could see the railroad now. a scant half-mile away a heavy freight train was ploughing forward toward the intersection of trail and track. and as nearly as he could calculate, runaway sled and engine would reach it together. "i must catch it before it gets to the track!" he told himself. "i must!" the ice-drive filled his mouth as he spoke, half choking him. already his eyes were encrusted with a film of frozen sleet, and objects ahead were blurring into an indistinct white mass. for the first time, too, he began to realize the doubt that he might reach the child in time. a cowardly desire to swerve into the snow-bank at one side, as he had done with the bob, fought for a place in his mind. he knew now that he could never pull up even before they reached the railroad track. but he fought back the temptation. "'a scout,'" he told himself, "'is brave. a scout is brave. a scout is brave.'" another sound dinned into his ears. it swept back from the frozen trail ahead of him, and presently he came to know that it was the frightened cry of the child on the other sled. so near it sounded that he could not believe the distance between them was more than the reach of his arm. but it was. when he lifted his head, he saw that a full ten feet still separated them. the sled ahead was already taking the slight rise to the railroad track. it would clear the onrushing engine by a few precious feet. but in another second or two, the path of the coasting slide would be effectually blocked by the train. this child would cross in time; he himself had no such margin of safety. in all probability, he would strike the very prong of the cow-catcher. "too late!" he moaned. "i can't do it!" then, abruptly, his mind jerked back to what lay beyond: to the turn they had told him about, and the creek below, and the rocks. resolutely, he held his sled to the course. as he swept upon the upgrade to the track, he heard from behind peter barrett's shout. "_don't!_" it rang out. "don't try it! you can't--" the whole world seemed to roar at him. there was the clang of a bell, the hoarse whistle of the engine, the hiss of steam, the rasp of brakes hard-set. to his left, bearing down upon him, was a great monster of iron and steel, with a sharp-pointed triangle skimming low to destroy him. [illustration: to his left, bearing down upon him, was a great monster of iron and steel. _page ._] he shut his eyes. beneath him, the sled snapped angrily over a steel rail. he was upon the railroad track. he waited for the second click of the far rail--waited--waited--waited. would it never come? then--_snap!_--he felt it. a flurry of wind sucked behind him. a shadow darkened the white snow. with a scream, as of terror, the monster of iron crossed the trail a second after he had cleared the track. he was over safely. a little decline slanted from the railroad. at its very foot was some obstacle; and he jerked his sled to one side, angry over the forced loss of speed. the big rock, or whatever it was, appeared to be calling to him. he jerked his head savagely to clear his eyes, wondering dully why he did not pass it. then he laughed hysterically. it was the sled with peter barrett's little brother, running over the icy road at his very side. he swerved toward it, reached out a shaking hand, and closed his fingers upon the flare of the runner. the two sleds were one now. the dangerous turn was just beyond. it led to the left, and he dug his left toe savagely into the trail, holding it there like a brake, till the double-sled pivoted to its friction and swung where the road led. but there was no room to spare. before they were around, they had climbed the bank overhanging the creek, balanced perilously a moment on its brink, and dashed back to the middle of the road. afterward--some minutes afterward--when the locked sleds had ground to a standstill, and the train had passed, and peter barrett and little jimmie white had come coasting gingerly and frightenedly to the foot of old forty five, they found bonfire sitting weakly on the snowy ground, with one arm about the child. the latter was talking happily, but bonfire was too exhausted to speak. "i never saw anything like it," said little jimmie white. there was honest hero-worship in his eyes. "no, never!" it was harder for peter barrett. "i--i did a lot of thinking back there," he began awkwardly, "trailing you down old forty five. i--i guess i've been blind, rodman, when i looked at you scouts. i thought you were--well, stuck on yourselves, and too good for poorer people. but this morning--" he waved a comprehensive hand toward the top of the hill, where the ragged little band of boys had been left behind, and did not complete the sentence. "when that train cut me off--do you know, i think you scouts have the right idea of things, mostly. i--well, it--it's thanksgiving." he winked his eyes rapidly as they turned toward his little brother. "yes, peter," said bonfire understandingly, "it's thanksgiving." chapter xiii apron strings "it's an outrage!" declared s. s. zane, banging an indignant fist on the table in the scouts' clubhouse. "yes, sir, an outrage; that's what it is!" the subject under discussion was a bulletin that had been posted that day on the board in the high-school hall. it read: notice! the following basketball players will report at : saturday afternoon, ready for the trip to elkana: _left forward_ kiproy _right forward_ barrett _center_ sheffield _left guard_ collins _right guard_ turner _substitutes_ payton, jones, henderson, zane (signed) royal sheffield, _captain_. "spite-work, i tell you!" chimed in specs. "you know who picked the players as well as i do, with professor leland home sick in bed. sheffield did. he's captain of the team, president of the athletic association, and--and enemy of the boy scouts, isn't he? well!" "sheffield's all right himself," bi admitted slowly, "but"--he looked up defiantly--"but the others aren't any better than we scouts who have been playing." "we were on the regular team when we beat elkana that first game, i guess!" blazed jump. "it was the other way around then, with kiproy, barrett, collins and turner as the substitutes. right after that, sheffield began to sack us, one at a time. there were three scouts on the team that beat grant city, then two in the charles city mix-up, and finally only bunny against deerfield. now there isn't a single one of us on the regular five. it's a wonder we are still in the running for the pennant." "well, we won't be," prophesied s. s.; "not after this elkana game. you just wait and see!" "they certainly buried us the last time," said bunny, making a wry face. "but so did grant, and you all know we nosed them out in the rubber. i wonder--bonfire, what's wrong? what does this new line-up mean, anyhow?" number of the black eagle patrol stopped tapping the table with his pencil and looked up. "want the truth?" he asked, with a smile. there was a sheeplike nodding of heads. one and all, the scouts had been won to the uncanny results of bonfire's powers of observation. "well," began the tenderfoot slowly, "i have an idea sheffield is trying to face elkana with the strongest team he can put together; he'll have to if he expects to win, because elkana has easily the best team, with the possible exception of our own, in the high-school league. i don't think he has dropped you scouts because of spite." bi bristled. "you mean that those other four are better players than we are?" "no." bonfire considered the case judicially. "no, you fellows are better than they are--individually." "but--" "wait a minute, bi. i think i can make you understand what i mean. basketball, you see, isn't like football, where the quarter calls a signal that tells some player what to do; nor like baseball, where you field a certain position, or bat yourself on base, or try to bring another fellow home. no, basketball is different, a lot different. when the ball comes to you, maybe you dribble it along and pass it to somebody else, and maybe you try for a basket yourself." "i don't see--" "you won the first elkana game," bonfire interrupted placidly, "by pure luck. you lost the second because you were outplayed at every turn. you'll lose the third and deciding one, too, if sheffield starts the same team again, playing the same kind of game." "but you just said we were better players than barrett and kiproy and collins and turner." bonfire looked him squarely in the face. "better individually, i said. the trouble with you fellows is that you are too good. you can shoot baskets so accurately that you forget there is more to the game than merely looping the ball for a goal every time you get hold of it. look here, bunny, who shot the most baskets in the game we won from elkana?" "sheffield," the patrol leader admitted readily. "and in the grant game? and the deerfield game?" "sheffield. we aren't claiming, though, that he isn't the best basketball player in lakeville. he is, i guess. but in those last games, at least, he had more chances to score than any other player." "exactly!" said bonfire. "and that is how lakeville will beat elkana saturday--if it does. by teamwork, by each player's forgetting himself for the good of the machine, by feeding the ball at every opportunity to the best basket-shooter of them all--royal sheffield. kiproy won't try to score, but to pass the ball to sheffield whenever he can, and then hover under the basket for a possible miss; and so will collins and barrett and turner. you four fellows might loop it in from the center of the floor, or from off to one side--sometimes! sheffield won't miss one try out of five. do you see what i mean?" it was obvious that they did. there was a solemn nodding of heads. curiously enough, slow-thinking bi was the one to voice the thought that was taking root in the mind of each of them. "but why," he asked, "didn't sheffield explain his system to bunny and s. s. and jump and me, and have us feed the ball to him in the game?" bonfire answered with another question. "why did you fellows think he had dropped you from the team for spite?" he waited a moment for the idea to grip. "don't you see, bi, that just as surely as you have been mistrusting him, just that surely he has been questioning your willingness to do him a good turn without hope of reward? the others are so glad to make the team that they will play as he says." "but we would--" "of course, you would," bonfire caught him up. "but sheffield doesn't know that your good turns are not done for pay, even in applause. he doesn't know that when a boy scout does a good turn, he doesn't wait around for thanks; doesn't even tell anybody else he has done a good turn. i am sorry he can't understand, because i know that if you fellows only had the chance, you'd play up to him as those others never will. but--well, let's keep that eighth law in mind; let's be cheerful and obey orders." he glanced apologetically toward bunny. "i didn't mean to preach," he added, smiling. bunny smiled back understandingly. at that moment, he was thinking not only that bonfire was a mighty good boy scout, but that he would make an equally satisfactory patrol leader. if the black eagles ever needed a new number ---- "going to the game?" specs asked bonfire abruptly. "no--o. i'd like to, but i can't afford to spend the money." bonfire did not mention the ninth law, about thrift, but bunny knew the boy had it in mind. "yes, sir," he told himself, "he'd make a dandy patrol leader. wish he was going to elkana with us; he helps win more games than any player." if bunny had known of the problem he was to face at seven-thirty the next saturday evening, between halves, he would have put that wish in stronger words; for he was to need bonfire's advice and help more than ever before. at two-ten on the afternoon of the fateful day, the manager of the elkana athletic association met them as they stepped from the train. "good news!" he greeted. "we have arranged to play the game this evening in the hallworth college gymnasium. come on; i'll take you right over." and a little later: "this is the dressing room. you can put your clothes in this big locker while you play. yonder are the shower baths. now, if you like, you can use the main floor upstairs to practice till three-thirty; sort of give you the feel of the place, anyhow. well, good-by and good luck to-night--only not too much of that last!" captain sheffield elected to take advantage of the invitation to put his five through a short, brisk practice. ten minutes proved ample, not only to satisfy him that the team was on edge, but to bathe it in perspiration. "call it a day!" said sheffield at last. "now get your baths and meet me here about six, to go out to supper together." bunny noticed that he left them free to do as they pleased the balance of the afternoon. it worried him a little. if he had been captain of the team, he would have warned the boys, at least, to loaf and rest as much as possible, that they might be fresh for the game. but, after all, sheffield was in charge, not he; and bunny knew royal well enough to realize that youth's contempt for "tying anybody to his apron strings", as he had once put it. but the tiny unrest would not down. ten minutes later, his body glowing pink after a shower and a brisk rub with a great turkish towel, jump fed new fuel to the worry. "bunny," he said carelessly, "you don't mind if we go swimming, do you? there's a big tank in there, with the water so clear you can see the bottom all over." "sorry, jump," the patrol leader decided, "but it wouldn't do. you'd tire yourself out in no time." "the other fellows are swimming right now," jump protested. bunny clenched his hands. "the scouts, you mean?" "no, kiproy and collins and turner and barrett. bi said we ought to get your permission before we went in." "not now," bunny told him. "after the game, maybe, but not now." he watched jump slouch dejectedly away. "i wish," he told himself, "that sheffield had stayed around and told those others not to go swimming. it won't help their speed any in the basketball game." but at supper that evening, when they were guests of the elkana team, the four boys who had been in the tank looked so fresh and fit for battle that bunny decided no harm had been done. the business of eating a delicious meal, and of getting acquainted with their opponents, and of bandying challenges and promises and good-natured threats back and forth apparently galloped the hands of the clock on the wall; and it seemed no time at all before they were piling upstairs from the gymnasium dressing quarters into a room flooded with brilliant light and banked on all sides by a large and noisy gathering. some official tossed a coin for choice of baskets, and sheffield said "heads." he laughed when he won. "i don't see any advantage either way," he told the elkana captain. "pick your side, please." from the substitutes' bench, bunny nodded his appreciation of this fine sportsmanship. after all, sheffield had his good points. he watched eagerly as the lakeville captain and a tall, rangy elkana boy faced each other in the middle of the floor. then the referee tossed the ball high into the air between them, piped a shrill blast on his whistle as it reached its top limit, and the game was on. what followed was so rapid that bunny could hardly follow the play. sheffield leaped and whacked the ball to the right, straight for the side. but turner was there to make the catch. he dribbled it, dodged a rushing opponent, dribbled it another yard, and suddenly shot it, with a long underhand pass, across the floor to collins, far on the left. like ants, the players swarmed toward him; the whole playing court, indeed, was curiously like an ant hill. collins bounced the ball just once before he shot it to barrett, on the opposite side. barrett spun it through an open space to kiproy, who was in a corner of the great quadrangle. by this time, sheffield had raced down the center to a spot just in front of the basket. here he took a perfect throw, balanced the ball in his hands, and then looped it upward for the net, scoring the first two points of the game in exactly twenty-seven seconds. "oh, boy!" gasped jump on the bench, "i guess that's teamwork." and the other three lakeville substitutes agreed that it certainly was. but one basket in the first half-minute does not spell victory. even before lakeville had scored again, by an intricate triangular shooting combination that evolved a forward crisscross, bunny fancied he could detect a laggard movement here and there; not enough, in any one instance, to interfere with rapid and accurate passing, but still a hint of possible future trouble. after that, while elkana was looping its first basket and lakeville countering with its third, bunny saw more and more clearly that only sheffield was maintaining the dashing pace the team had set in the beginning. barrett was puffing hard and running with a slight effort; collins and turner were slowing perceptibly; kiproy was making passes an instant before they were necessary. in another five minutes of hard play, with the ball rushed from one end of the court to the other a dozen times, the lessening of snap and rush on lakeville's part was becoming hideously apparent. elkana had scored twice more, making the count six all. bunny knew the turn of the tide was at hand. the elkana cheerers knew it, too, and yelled and tooted horns and rang bells and swung into a mighty rhythmical roar of, "one, two, will do!" it was a silly thing, bunny thought; but it wasn't half as bad as the tag of, "three, four, five, six; all scored on tricks!" when the goals reached that figure; nor the jubilant, "seven, eight; just you wait!" when the elkana team added another basket. lakeville's total was still six. with the first half nearly over, the visiting team was playing with its back against the wall, strictly on the defensive. sheffield was still alert and dangerous, but he could not shoot goals when the other players failed to feed him the ball. a dozen times, it seemed to bunny, the captain broke up threatening formations of elkana's almost single-handed; and once, just at the end, he shot a clean basket from near the center of the floor, looping the ball upward in a great arc and dropping it like a plummet within the iron ring that supported the net. but elkana scored again, too; and when the pistol shot signaled the end of the half, the blackboard showed: lakeville, ; elkana, . it meant defeat, bunny knew, inglorious defeat. lakeville was slowing and weakening; elkana was only warming to the final onslaught. in a way, too, his conscience told him, the fault was his; he might have gone straight to the tank that afternoon and begged the fellows to come out before they tired themselves. he wished now that he had. between halves, while the four exhausted players lay stretched on benches, sheffield wandered down the aisle between the rows of lockers for a glass of water. bunny took quick advantage of his absence. "bring a drink of water for each of them, won't you?" he said querulously to the three substitutes. he waited till they were out of earshot. "look here, you fellows!" he began grimly, spreading his legs and leaning toward them in his earnestness. "you're ready to drop, every last one of you, because of that long swim this afternoon. does sheffield know about it?" "didn't mention it to him," said kiproy carelessly. "why?" "somebody should!" snapped bunny. "not one of you is fit to play another minute, and he ought to know the reason." collins sat up. "are you going to snitch?" "no, i'm not. i'm no tattletale. but i'm going to ask you not to start this next half." "so the substitutes can go in, eh?" it was turner's slur. "maybe they can't hold that elkana five," flashed bunny, "but they're fresh, anyhow, and not half dead. will you drop out, kiproy?" "no, i won't!" "you, collins? turner? barrett?" in each case, the reply was a curt refusal. barrett added doubtfully, "we'll be in shape by the time play starts again." "after swimming in the tank for nearly an hour!" bunny cried scornfully. "you know better than that, all of you. once more--" "time's up! come on!" it was sheffield's cool voice. the captain stood at the end of the long bench. with a sigh, bunny brought his feet together and straightened up. "i can't do a single thing," he told himself bitterly. "i won't snitch, and i can't force them to quit playing. we're beaten, that's all." up the winding stairway marched the five members of the team; up and through the doorway at the top, and out upon the main floor of the gymnasium, to certain, inevitable defeat. on the bottom step, unconscious that he was blocking the way for the other three substitutes, bunny watched till the last foot lifted and disappeared. chapter xiv the last goal the second half began. a blast from the referee's whistle sent the two teams scurrying to their positions. again sheffield and the elkana center faced each other in the middle of the floor; again the official tossed the ball high into the air; again he blew his warning signal as it reached the top of its flight. but here the repetition of the first play of the game ended. as sheffield raised his right arm for the tap, his elbow jabbed against the breast of his opponent, topping the boy off-balance. with a desperate effort, the latter tried to straighten and swing for the falling ball; but he was an instant too late. sheffield whanged it straight and hard into kiproy's waiting arms. "oh!" gasped bunny, on the substitutes' bench. it was like the cry from some hurt. no shrill of the referee's whistle marked the foul. clearly, the official had been watching the flight of the ball, rather than the two opposing players who had leaped for it as it fell, and had thus failed to detect any unfair interference. but the spectators had seen. a little hiss of disapproval grew to a buzzing growl, like a tiny breeze that nods the daisies in a distant field and snarls through the bushes as it comes close. kiproy bent to make a pass. sheffield held up a staying hand. "wait!" he called. in the tense silence that followed, bunny could hear him clearly. "i interfered with that toss-up--unintentionally; jabbed the elkana center with my elbow. call a foul, referee!" the noise broke anew, but it was the clapping of hands this time, and the stamping of feet and little shouts of approval, like a rollicking gale at play. bunny looked out at sheffield, through what seemed queerly like a fog, and said, "oh, that's fine!" and even when some elkana fellow was given a free trial for goal and netted a basket, he repeated, "yes, that's fine!" at that moment, he liked sheffield more than he ever had before. over at the blackboard, the boy rubbed out the ten under elkana's name and traced an eleven in its place. lakeville's total was still eight. sheffield outjumped the opposing center on the next toss-up, which was free of any semblance of foul, and whacked the ball to barrett. peter whirled completely around, to throw off the guard hovering in front of him, and started a dribble. but just as he was ready to make the pass, some elkana player stepped in and captured the ball. it was not an unusual incident, but it made bunny squirm. peter had been just the tick of a watch too slow. after that, things began steadily to go wrong. the four players who had been in the tank started to shrink when they should have charged, to submit weakly to an opponent's making a pass when they should have scrimmaged for a toss-up, to be always the tiny fraction of a second too late in catching, shooting, dodging. elkana scored. it scored again. after perhaps three minutes of play in the second half, the figures on the blackboard read: lakeville, ; elkana, . "we're licked," bunny muttered, digging his finger tips into moist palms, "unless--" it was like a cue for sheffield's action. before the ball could be put into play again, the lakeville captain stepped to the referee's side and said something in a quick, decisive manner. the man nodded. then sheffield lifted a beckoning finger toward the substitutes' bench. bunny looked at the other three, as if expecting one of them to rise at the signal, and the other three looked at bunny the same way. none of them seemed to know which substitute he wanted. "come on!" called sheffield gruffly; then, after one heart-breaking instant of hesitation, "all of you!" at that, of course, they dropped the single blanket they had thrown over their shoulders and scampered out upon the floor. they tried to look unconcerned during the little journey, but nobody was much deceived. barrett, kiproy, collins and turner, walking wearily and dejectedly toward the bench, passed them without speaking. there was no time for sheffield to coach them in the style of game he wanted them to play. possibly, too, he thought any instructions of his would be so much wasted breath. all he could do was to hope for the best, in a forlorn sort of way, and trust to their natural ability to net a basket when the opportunity offered. they knew the formations and the signals; individually, he admitted, they were crack players. well-- lakeville had practiced its deceptive forward crisscross at least one hundred times. when sheffield hit the ball on the toss-up, he sent it directly across the floor to s. s., playing left guard, on the double hope that this unexpected maneuver would fool elkana again and that young zane would be ready for the catch. never had bob collins played it better. with a deceptive lunge, s. s. shook off the player hovering about him, dashed forward, took the pass, dribbled the ball till the very last safe moment, and then shot it across to bi, at right guard. from him it zigzagged back to the opposite side, into jump's waiting hands, and, with just enough delay to pull in the baffled elkana players, on to bunny, playing in one corner of the court, within easy looping distance of the basket. all this time, of course, sheffield had been racing down the middle, till he was now squarely in front of the goal, with only one negligent guard anywhere near him. but bunny was also clear for the moment. "shoot it!" shouted the captain, eyes already raised to the basket for the try. bunny poised the ball in his hands. sheffield's guard shuffled toward the danger zone. but even as he drew back his arms, bunny whirled and made an overhand pass to his captain. so unexpected was this play, and so rapid the throw, that sheffield came near being taken unawares. but he set himself in time. hard and true came the ball, zipping against his open palms, with every last elkana player temporarily paralyzed by surprise. with something very like a smile, sheffield balanced himself, taking plenty of time, and nonchalantly looped it upward for the gaping basket in front of him. it was a perfect goal. score: lakeville, ; elkana, . "nice work!" sheffield grunted to bunny. he wasn't sure--yet. but a minute later, when jump, in the very shadow of the goal, lifted the ball high above his head and then flicked it back to his captain, six feet behind him, sheffield knew for certain. he made that basket, too, and he ran laughing for the next toss-up, as if all the people in elkana couldn't stop his team now. the scouts were doing just what he had trained those others to do, just what he had declared the scouts would never agree to do. they were feeding him the ball; they were playing, not for the applause and glory of shooting goals, but for the bigger thing, for the team itself. score: lakeville, ; elkana, . neither side scored during the next few minutes. but that worried bunny not one whit, and he guessed sheffield felt the same about it. for lakeville had come into her own at last, as if her five players were a single body with ten arms and ten legs. they rushed the ball toward their goal, tapping, tossing, dribbling, shooting it from boy to boy, looping it for the basket, scrambling after misses, and turning from offense to defense when elkana took possession of it and began a march, with many side trips, in the other direction. elkana had not fought victoriously throughout the season without sound cause. its team answered this new challenge like thoroughbreds. put upon their mettle, the five players rose to a skill they had never shown before, and swept down the floor to the climax of another basket. "never mind that!" grinned bunny, passing a grimy hand over his streaked face. "we'll beat 'em yet!" "you bet we will!" sheffield flashed back. hard on the heels of this stiffening determination, lakeville scored again, and yet again. sheffield shot both goals, but bunny knew he was ready enough to give credit to the machine behind him. elkana led now by a single point. the score board read: lakeville, ; elkana, . sixty seconds later, in a most peculiar manner, came the chance to tie the score. lakeville had already failed on a direct side-center pass formation and on a single side cross-forward play that had counted in other games. wisely, sheffield called for the forward crisscross that had twice baffled elkana. it looked as if the play were to go through. backward and forward across the floor, the ball wove its way, till it was time for the final pass to sheffield, already in a favorable position to shoot the basket. but just at the last, an elkana player sensed the trick. with flying arms, like a holland windmill adrift, he swept down upon the lakeville captain. sheffield dodged. so did the elkana boy. sheffield dodged back again, to confuse his opponent. the result was a semi-success. the other player had guessed wrong, and what happened was as much a surprise to one as the other. with a crash, the two collided solidly. sheffield fell flat on his back, the elkana boy piled on top of him, and the referee's whistle shrilled. "foul for charging!" the official announced. "free trial for goal for lakeville!" bunny payton fairly wriggled with eagerness. "tie score if you make this goal!" he exulted, as sheffield clambered to his feet dabbing at his eye with an open hand. "not hurt, are you?" "no. where's the ball? everybody ready?" bracing himself, feet apart, directly behind the foul line, sheffield took the ball in both hands, raised it suddenly in an overhand loop shot--and missed the basket by a good six inches! nobody spoke. nobody told him it didn't matter; for it did, mightily. nobody even asked what the trouble was. but that wide miss, by a center who could net a goal nine times out of ten on free throws, was like a dash of cold water to the lakeville team. "but we won't quit," bunny told himself, trotting into position for the next toss-up. "he'll have another chance in a minute." it came even sooner than he expected. scurrying here and there over the floor, apparently without aim or purpose, but in reality dodging and running with preconceived plan, the lakeville five edged closer and closer to the basket, till in the end sheffield caught a long pass almost in front of the goal. with a quick leap to one side, he shook off the elkana guard; with the precision born of much practice, he looped the ball up and over. the shot was long. hitting the backboard a full foot above the net, the ball bounced back against the outer edge of the metal ring, hung uncertainly a moment, and then trickled free to the floor. for the second time in as many minutes, sheffield had failed. "three minutes to play!" the timekeeper called, as they raced back to their positions. three minutes! and lakeville one point behind! bunny balled his nervous hands into hard fists and tried to swallow the lump that kept coming up in his throat. there was a chance yet, of course, but with sheffield shooting wildly-- for the third time in succession, a little later, the lakeville captain missed the basket. this throw was the worst of the three; a blind man, bunny told himself bitterly, might have come as close. what was the good of feeding sheffield the ball, if he chucked away his chances like that? there couldn't be much more than a minute to play now. when sheffield lined up against the elkana center once more, he spat out a curt, "everybody in it this time," and jumped and batted the ball to s. s. that _in_ was the signal for the old forward crisscross. bunny shook his head doubtfully, but ran to his place. the ball darted to and fro, like a swallow winging for safety: from s. s. to bi, from bi to jump, from jump to bunny. everybody was running and shouting, quite as if each player had gone suddenly insane. "here you are!" somebody would call. "shoot it!" "watch out!" "careful!" "plenty of time!" "plenty of time!" and then, having tantalized some opposing rusher, "come on!" "shoot it!" by now, sheffield was down the floor, in front of the basket and a little to the left. but bunny was as close on the other side and less carefully guarded. elkana, you see, had discovered that lakeville's captain was usually the final link between the last pass and the try for goal. as a result, its players were beginning to watch him like hawks. "shoot it!" yelled sheffield, trying vainly to shake off the elkana guard. bunny bounced the ball long enough to give this order time to register in his brain. "he means for me to try for a basket," he decided happily. he tapped the ball to the floor again. "and i can make it, too; i know i can." none of the elkana players seemed to be worrying about him in the least. bunny dribbled the ball a little nearer the goal, keeping a wary eye on sheffield, who was twisting and doubling and flopping about, like a--like a chicken with its head off. "that's just what he looks like," bunny grinned to himself. "shucks! if i did pass him the ball, he'd throw it wild. he's done it three times now." "shoot it!" ordered sheffield, in a frenzy of excitement. he ran back a few steps and threw up his hands. bunny wanted to think he was pointing toward the goal, but some curious prick of his conscience suggested that he might be motioning for a catch. there was only a second or two to decide now. down in his heart, bunny was sure--absolutely sure--that he could make the goal. he could already see himself holding the ball with both hands in front of his chest, pushing it upward till his arms were straight from shoulders to fingertips, and launching it, straight and true, upward and over and down, in a great looping shot that would nestle it in the swaying net below the iron hoop. he knew, just as certainly as he knew he was standing there, that he could score that goal. "and i don't think sheffield can," he argued stubbornly. "he--he's like a chicken with its head off." out of the corner of his eye, as he dribbled the ball, he saw an elkana boy sweeping toward him. it must be now or never. with a quick lunge ahead, he diverted the other's straight line of charge; then, stepping backward abruptly, he found himself clear for the moment. the ball bounded from the floor and plumped upon the open palm of his right hand. but something stayed the left hand from clapping upon that side of the leather, preliminary to the try for goal. instead, turning a little, he swung his right arm in a circle, shouted a warning to sheffield, now temporarily free of heckling guards, and shot the ball to him. "it's playing the game," he said to himself in a half-whisper. just the same, it hurt, even more than he cared to admit, to make that sacrifice. the lakeville captain seemed to catch the ball exactly in position for looping it toward the basket. in the twinkling of an eye, sheffield had tossed it upward, using the same overhand shot bunny had partially begun. up and up sped the ball, with ten open-mouthed players following its course with twenty popping eyes; up and up, till it seemed it would never stop, and then, after a languid pause in mid-air, down and down, going faster every instant, till it plopped squarely within the metal rim of the basket and swished on into the hanging net. the goal was scored. lakeville now led, - . in the midst of a scrimmage, directly after the next toss-up, a sudden crack from the timekeeper's pistol signaled the end of the game. lakeville had won. the road to the championship would be easy traveling now. sheffield took his honors without any display of emotion; he was that sort of winner. to the four substitutes who had made possible the victory, he merely said, "good work, fellows!" but bunny guessed he meant a good deal more than the words expressed. "why didn't you try for that last basket yourself?" he asked bunny, as they piled downstairs to the dressing room. "you could have scored." "yes, i think i could," bunny admitted honestly. "i was afraid of you, too, after you had missed those others, but--" "something in my eye," explained sheffield; "got it in when i took that tumble. that's why those shots went wild. but it was out before your last pass." "i gave you the ball," bunny went on doggedly, "because i knew that was the kind of game you had planned--feeding it to you and letting you shoot the baskets. you didn't exactly tell us, of course, but we knew. and a scout is supposed to be obedient to his leader and--" "i see," nodded sheffield, and let the matter drop. "by the way, why didn't you fellows go swimming with the rest this afternoon?" "how--how did you know about that?" "heard you talking to barrett and kiproy and collins and turner just before i called them for the second half. but i don't see why--yes, i guess i do, too. your scouts asked you if they could, didn't they?" "yes." "and you wouldn't let them, i suppose. right!" he turned to bunny with a smile in his eyes. "obedience to the leader again, eh? sort of apron strings. h'm!" bunny couldn't make out whether sheffield was sneering or just turning the matter over in his mind. but when he began a stumbling explanation, the captain cut him short with a question. "would you scouts object," he asked, "to being tied--well, say loosely--to my apron strings in basketball?" "why--" "because if you wouldn't mind accepting me as a leader in the game," sheffield went on evenly, "i have an idea we might show those other high schools quite a nifty little team." in view of the fact that lakeville simply romped through the balance of the schedule to the championship, it is to be supposed that the scouts didn't object to obeying the captain. in any event, after another week of strenuous practice, the notice on the bulletin board of the high school read: notice! the following basketball players will report at : saturday afternoon, ready for the trip to harrison city: _left forward_ payton _right forward_ henderson _center_ sheffield _left guard_ zane _right guard_ jones _substitutes_ kiproy, barrett, collins, turner (signed) royal sheffield, _captain_. chapter xv an alarm of fire palms propping his chin, elbows braced on knees, specs mcgrew squatted on the family's front steps, staring out at the street. "i wish it was over," he grumbled. "why don't roundy and jump come? say, bunny, if i had a five-dollar bill in my pocket, i'd give it to anybody who could pick me up right out of this morning and set me down somewhere to-morrow morning." bunny laughed. "oh, the game won't be as bad as all that. still, if you don't want to play, i guess we can persuade s. s. to take your place at short." "huh?" specs twisted his head round. "let s. s. play against belden instead of me! not if i know it! just the same, i wish it was over, and down in your heart i bet you do, too." the peace of a june morning hung over lakeville, a quiet that was even deeper than usual; for not only was this the day when the lakeville high baseball team went to belden to play the last game of the season, but it was also the day of dunkirk's great home coming picnic; and a long excursion train, crowded to the platforms, had left the village at : . the town was deserted. as specs put it, "a cyclone or a fire could walk right down main street without having a chance to say 'hello' to anybody." in spite of the quiet, though, there were at least a generous baker's dozen of boys in and around lakeville whose hearts beat hippety-hop whenever they stopped to think of the game that afternoon. for the baseball season had gone well. the whole school year, indeed, had been a procession of athletic triumphs, first in football, then in basketball, and finally in baseball. best of all, every last boy and girl in lakeville high was ready to admit that the black eagle scouts had done their share and more. in the beginning, of course, the patrol was a target for scorn; but gradually, as its members proved that the scout way of doing things was a good way, and made for harmony and loyalty and the pull-together spirit that won victories, sentiment began to swing toward the organization until, in the end, it was pretty generally agreed that to be a boy scout was to be somebody worth while in high school. with two championships stowed safely away, it was only natural that the baseball season should have begun with a hip-hip-hurray. with but two exceptions, every boy in school had tried for the team, and the lucky candidates had won their places only after the hardest kind of struggle. of the scouts, roundy was at first base, jump at second, and specs at short. bunny and bi alternated in the pitcher's box. for the rest of the school, barrett caught, sheffield held down third base, and the outfield was made up of collins, kiproy and turner. professor leland had proved a most enthusiastic coach, and the lively competition for places on the team had kept all the players on tiptoe. the nine, moreover, had run on greased rollers. buck claxton himself had nominated bunny for captaincy of the team, and by the best sort of example had shown that the leader's orders were law. with this spirit and discipline, the team had progressed steadily from victory to victory. its one setback had come from a semi-professional outfit of dunkirk, and that score had been only seven to four against lakeville. they had beaten dunkirk high, grant city, deerfield, mason, harrison city and elkana. belden, slated for the last game of the season, was not only the one team in the district that remained undefeated, but also it could and did lay claim to the championship of the state. to beat belden, therefore, meant to round out the school year with pennants in three major sports. "why didn't bonfire try for the baseball team?" specs asked suddenly. "i've never understood that. he tried for everything else." bunny peered down the street for the expected scouts before he answered. "i don't know. bonfire's hard to understand. but he had some good reason; it wasn't because he was afraid to try." "he's seen all the games and been at all the practices," said specs, stretching his legs. "he has eyes like--like a fox. do you remember that tip he gave me about the dunkirk pitcher with his funny inshoot? but he hasn't even handled a baseball, not since molly's picnic." specs was still chuckling over the memory when the appearance of jump and roundy changed the subject. bunny hopped to his feet. "now we can start. we meet the rest of them at the schoolhouse at nine-fifteen." "by to-night we'll be state champs," said the placid and confident roundy. "i saw molly and mr. sefton and horace hibbs scooting down the street in the sefton automobile early this morning. they had streamers and pennants enough to open a store. i'm glad they are going to be there to cheer for us." carrying their uniforms in bulky suit cases and telescopes, the four scouts started down the street. "everybody's gone," observed jump, as they strolled down maple avenue toward the high school. "seems a shame to leave the town like this." "oh, there are some chickens and a couple of dogs and about a thousand pet cats left behind," specs retorted. "they can take care of things." he looked up the street. "hello! prof. and the others are waiting for us at the corner." on the high-school lawn, opposite grady's barn, the remainder of the team, with substitutes and a few others, were gathered. professor leland was looking at his watch. "how about sheffield?" queried bunny, joining the coach. "has he come yet?" the man shook his head. "sheffield's always two minutes late. he has seven miles to cover in that machine of his, but he generally waits till the last second." he glanced about anxiously. "we have nearly the entire squad here, and ferris can play third if he has to, but i want sheffield." "i might wait here," bunny suggested, "say, for ten minutes. roy always leaves his car in grady's barn, so he's sure to pass this way. when he does come, i'll get him to the station on the run." the coach breathed a sigh of relief. "that's the plan, payton. i'll leave the uniforms and bat bag with you, too, and you can pile them on ernie langer's dray when he comes. then you can ride with him to the station and keep him from going to sleep." since the entire patrol had voted to go to laurel, bunny ventured another suggestion. "there are eight of us here who have worked together; nine altogether, counting prissler, who is training to be a tenderfoot. if we all stay with the baggage, we can carry it to the station, in case langer should be late." professor leland considered. "langer is coming, all right. but if i thought there was a chance of his being behind time, i'd let the squad carry the baggage to the station now. still, your way keeps us from taking any chances at all." he paused to study his watch. "remember, the train stops at : only to let off and take on passengers. you _must_ be there on time. at three o'clock this afternoon, when the game is called, i don't want to play with four or five substitutes." "we'll be there," chorused the scouts, while bunny and bi carefully set their watches with that of the coach. it was eighteen minutes past nine when professor leland and his players, minus the scouts, started up the street toward the station. "we can wait till nine-thirty if we have to," bunny decided, "and then make the train by the skin of our teeth. but i hope old slowpoke langer and his dray come along before that. roy sheffield ought to be here now." it was mr. langer, however, who arrived first, sleepily jogging his horses toward the corner. at exactly twenty-six minutes past nine he drew up beside the pile of baggage. "whoa, there! whoa! ain't been waiting for me, have you?" he inquired genially, as he removed his straw hat to wipe his forehead. "i've been waiting for you ever since i've known you," answered specs. "what are those horses of yours--one cylinder or two?" mr. langer smiled contentedly. "you might not think it," he observed, "but these here horses used to be fire horses in elkana when they was young. and they're just as good a team to-day as that pair of plugs they got in our fire station." he climbed laboriously from his seat, with some intention of assisting the scouts in loading the bags and baseball apparatus into the dray. but as the boys were tidily finishing the job before mr. langer fully made up his mind about the best way to begin, he thought better of his ambition, and leaned one arm on the wagon and went on with his conversation. "take that fire department in this here town," he ruminated, picking a spear of grass to chew between words. "why, it ain't run like a fire department any more than it's run like a church." he squinted thoughtfully at a pebble in the road. "come to think of it, there ain't much difference between that fire department and a church. there's just one man of the second reformed church left in lakeville to-day, and that's pete mullett, the janitor; and there's just one man left in the fire department, and that's dave hendershot, the driver." bunny pricked up his ears. "you don't mean there's only one man to hitch up the hose cart and put out the fire?" mr. langer nodded. "yep. dave was left in charge, with three helpers, and they told him they wanted to go to dunkirk. and dave was good-natured, and they was just volunteers, anyhow, and he let 'em go. of course, i'll be around to give dave a hand, but that ain't no way to fight fires." mr. langer nodded more decisively than before and plucked a second blade of grass. "coming late, the way royal sheffield does, isn't playing the game either," said specs suddenly. "we have just one minute more to wait. it's : already." bunny verified the time. as specs said, the missing player had but a single minute of grace before the procession started toward the station. "he may get here on time, even if we don't hustle him up," suggested s. s. bonfire cree laughed. "he'd have missed the harrison city game if the train hadn't been held up on account of a hot box." "he's a dandy, he is!" commented specs. "back before you fellows won that basketball game for him, i heard him say once that we scouts weren't interested in anything except ourselves, but i notice he never puts himself out for anybody." "give him a fair show, specs," bunny suggested gently. "remember, he isn't here to speak for himself." "he'll be speaking for himself in two seconds," said bonfire, pointing down the street toward a scarlet motor car which at that moment was tearing along near the corner. barely braking enough to turn without skidding, royal sheffield drove the automobile up the driveway to the barn; then, a moment later, lounged down the path to the scouts. "make it fast, sheff," warned bunny. "we have just time to catch the train, not a second more. throw your stuff on the dray. all right, we 're off. how about it, mr. langer? can we all pile on your wagon?" mr. langer nodded. promptly, without waiting for the captain of the team to decide the matter, sheffield scrambled up to the driver's seat. "i notice you're making yourself comfortable!" snapped specs, balancing uneasily on the side of the dray. "is that so!" sheffield flung back carelessly. "well, i'm following your lead. i notice you fellows have been hanging around to ride to the station." "hanging around!" specs raised his voice angrily. "why, the only reason we stayed behind was to--" "better cut it, specs!" bunny said decisively. a silence followed. with much slapping of lines and verbal encouragement, mr. langer waked his fire horses and set them in motion. in time, even, they broke into an unwieldy trot, jolting and jouncing the stiff-springed dray over the ruts. "too much luxury for me!" groaned bonfire. "i'd rather run alongside than be shaken to pieces." he dropped from the dray, glancing back down the street. "bunny! oh, bunny! look!" he was standing in the middle of the road, jaw dropped, eyes bulging, forefinger pointed toward the corner from which they had come. "what's the matter, bonfire?" "it's a fire--back there--by the corner! there's a house on fire!" chapter xvi along the floor placing both hands on the sideboard of the dray, bunny vaulted lightly to the ground. from where bonfire stood, the thin eddy of smoke could be seen looping over the tree tops at the corner. "it's peterson's house!" bonfire shook his head. "the smoke shows too far north for that. it's either crawford's or some shed near there." for a long moment bunny watched the white wreath tail up above the highest leaves; then, abruptly, he raced after the jogging dray. "stop that team!" he shouted. mr. langer pulled up deliberately, hastened a little in the process, perhaps, by roundy, who seemed on the point of taking the reins into his own hands. "everybody out! we can't leave a fire like that with nobody in town." "oh, rats!" snapped sheffield. "we'll turn in an alarm at the station. what's the fire department for? let it burn!" mr. langer seemed in doubt. "wal, i dunno." he scratched his head thoughtfully. "i dunno. mebbe, now--" "you're hired to get us down to the station," sheffield reminded him. "the best thing for you to do is to hurry up and make that train." bunny hesitated. the welfare of the baseball team which he captained demanded that no time be lost. on the other hand, if a serious fire had started, it was more important to check it than to play any game. "if there is a real blaze--" he began. "it doesn't matter whether it's a real blaze or not," sheffield interrupted. "we are on our way to play for the high-school championship of the state. that's more important than anything else." "no, sheff," disagreed bunny; "no, it isn't. winning a baseball championship wouldn't be as important as saving lakeville from a bad fire. now, would it?" "oh, it's probably only a smudge," urged sheffield. "how about it, langer? didn't you see a bonfire over there?" mr. langer scratched his head again. "i dunno if i did and i dunno if i didn't. but--" bunny made up his mind. "drive ahead, langer. sheffield, you see that the stuff gets to the station on time and tell professor leland that we will catch the : train. that will bring us to the belden field by just three o'clock. scouts over here!" almost before mr. langer could get under way, his dray was lightened of its load of black eagles, who scrambled to the ground, following bunny and bonfire at a dead run. "it's not a little blaze," panted the observant bonfire. "look how that smoke hangs in a cloud over the trees. it's coming from the top of some building." "it's the crawford house!" specs urged, as he sprinted up to the two leaders. "you can tell it's the crawfords', because--no, it isn't either. it's--" bunny, bonfire and specs came to a paralyzed halt. in one voice, they finished the sentence: "--grady's barn!" already that building had loomed into sight. from an opening near the peak of the roof, smoke was leisurely twining into the air, as if it had a perfect right to be doing that sort of thing in that sort of a place. no one else in town seemed to have noticed the warning, and a thicker puff of smoke brought no answering cry of "fire!" "let her go!" said specs spitefully. "we will turn in an alarm and keep it from burning anything else, but we might just as well let the old shack go up in smoke. grady has it insured." "but sheffield's automobile is in there," protested bonfire, "and that isn't insured. i heard roy say so." "that's what i thought," specs agreed calmly. "but mister royal sheffield thinks we haven't any business monkeying with fires this morning, and i vote we go back to the station and tell him that we were mistaken and that he was right." bunny frowned. "we'll go right on being scouts and living up to the scout law, just as we did before we ever knew sheffield. jump and s. s., you two pike down to the fire department and hustle dave hendershot up here with the hose cart. prissler, you chase downtown and rouse people. roundy, break into the schoolhouse and ring the bell for all you're worth. nap, you take the school telephone and call central and the fire department. the rest of us will do what we can right here." however much the scouts would have preferred to stay at the scene of action, they hesitated not at all in obeying these necessarily curt orders. three runners scurried away toward main street; two others made a bee line for the janitor's entrance of the high school. "oh, all right!" grunted specs. "now we can go ahead and be heroes and save dear old roy's car for him. i'd certainly like to see the blamed thing saved--that is, all except the tires and the motor and the tool box and the lights and a few other things." whenever specs reached this particular mood, it was best to let him talk his way out of it. bunny ignored him completely and ran toward the burning building. grady's barn was the usual two-story structure, its peaked roof topped by an old-fashioned cupola. at the front, two swinging doors were locked by a wooden bar within, a smaller side entrance being used for ordinary comings and goings. "locked with a big padlock," said bunny, testing the side door while bonfire and specs hurried to the west side of the building. bi returned from an excursion to the rear. "back door's nailed fast," he reported. "there are iron bars across the inside of that back window, too." through this latter opening, bi had seen the smoke thickening inside, but he had failed to discover any way of breaking through to smother it. it was evident that when mr. grady had turned over his horseless barn to royal sheffield, he had made it thoroughly burglar proof. "if i had an ax," bi muttered wistfully, "i'd smash through that door in a hurry." with a common impulse, bunny and bi picked up a long board, to use as a battering-ram against the sagging double door. under the blows, the barn resounded, but the doors remained as tightly shut as before. "got to break through pretty soon or stop trying," bunny gasped, as they halted the attack to regain wind. "if we once get inside anywhere, we can open those double doors and roll out the car. after that, we might save the barn. but if the gasoline ever explodes--well, that will finish everything." "let's try it again!" bi lunged against the door with fierce energy. "maybe the big wooden bar that holds across the middle will jump loose if we jar it enough. ugh!" he grunted as the board struck the door. "all together, bi! once more! i think i felt it move." they hammered the wood home, but in spite of the whirlwind of blows the door did nothing but sag a little and stick fast. "thank goodness!" ejaculated bunny, as they halted after this assault. "roundy's found the bell, anyhow." "_dang! bang! dang! bang!_" the clapper of the high-school bell was swinging wilder and harder against the metal sides than ever before in its short life. "now, if that brings help, and if nap gets a little action over the telephone, and if jump and s. s. bring up the hose cart, we have a chance even yet. where's bonfire? and where's specs?" as if in answer to his name, bonfire appeared, red-faced and breathless, holding a short two-by-four in his hand. "looked all over peterson's woodshed for an ax, but couldn't find a thing except this. you can see the fire through the little stall window. it's just beginning to wake up. didn't specs find anything?" "specs! isn't he with you?" "with me? no!" bonfire's eyes opened wide. "he started with me. he was going to the crawfords' and--let's see--he turned and--" the boy stopped speaking. fumbling the plank in his hand, he dropped it and then scooped it from the ground in a rush toward the door. "come on!" he shouted, attacking the barn in a wild burst of frenzy. "we've got to break in! we've got to! specs is inside!" bunny caught him by the arm. "we can't break through here. it's solid. how do you know specs is inside?" the other scout was quivering with excitement. "i know it. i looked through the stall window. there was a board loose in the floor, near the fire. i pointed it out to him. for a joke, i told him a thin fellow might crawl underneath the barn, pry it loose, and come up inside. and he's done it! we've got to get him out!" the school bell still clanged at top speed. far down the street, bunny could see two men running. he fancied he could hear galloping hoofs and the rumble of the hose cart. but if specs was wallowing in that smother of smoke, all this help would come too late. he pounded on the side of the barn with his futile fist. "specs! specs!" he shouted. bi ground his fingers into his palms. "if he can only get to the door, he can open it, but--" there was no answering sound from within. bonfire, who had disappeared, darted suddenly from one side of the barn. "he's in there," he said. his face was white, and he spoke jerkily. "you can see his tracks. i crawled under. the board has been lifted up, but the blaze is all over the hole and i couldn't get through." something cried to be done. something must be done. as bunny tried to collect his thoughts, his eye glimpsed a tiny gap between the base of the door on the right and the top of the ramp. it stretched near the hinge side, high enough to take the end of a plank. with a shout of relief, he slapped the end of the board into the crevice. using the two-by-four as a fulcrum, he began levering the door upward and outward. "all together now! smash that hinge!" he gulped, choking from a whiff of smoke that puffed into his face from the crack. this command was unnecessary. already the other two were throwing all their weight and strength on the long end of the lever. "hard! everybody, hard!" came a creaking, groaning, splintering of the wood. it was the signal of the break to come. the scouts were bracing for a last effort when, quite without warning or effort on their part, the bar stretched across the inside of the double door swung upward, the sides flew open, and out stumbled specs. himself, he had unloosed the holding bar and opened the doors. "i'm all right!" he gagged. "not burned! get the car out quick! leave me alone! i'll be o. k. in a minute, i tell you!" he staggered over to a plot of grass. while specs lay flung on the ground, blinking his smoke-reddened eyes and breathing heavily, the other three wheeled the car into the open just as the hose cart, carrying s. s. and jump and a crew of four others, drew up at the hydrant. "prissler ran down the street and yelled 'fire!' at the top of his voice," explained s. s. "that's how these men happened to know about it and run to the fire house. he--there he comes now, with another bunch he's roused." fortunately, except for a little scorched paint, the car was undamaged. as for the fire itself, within ten minutes the volunteer workers gathered by bell and telephone and little prissler's paul revere race through the village had the flames changing into a welter of thick, white smoke. the barn had suffered, but it was not beyond repair. "i got in all right," specs explained to the boys, "and i had a wet handkerchief tied over my face, and i crawled along the floor as if i was looking for a needle, and i generally acted the way a fireman ought to act. i'd been all right, too, if i hadn't bumped my elbow and then stuck my head up to see what did it. i must have swallowed some smoke or something, because i had to lie quiet till i could get enough strength back to finish the job. that was when i heard you calling to me." "but i thought you didn't care about saving sheffield's car," teased roundy, who had come back from his bell ringing. "i don't!" specs flared indignantly. "but if i hadn't tried to help, i'd have been breaking about half the scout laws. just the same," he added a little viciously, "i'm going to tell royal sheffield that i wish it had been somebody else's car." at this characteristic fling, the black eagles rolled merrily on the grass, winding up in an informal pyramid, of which specs was the bottom layer. "look here!" said bunny, suddenly piling off. "we had better find out about that later train." it was nap, arriving on the scene from his telephoning, who capped this remark. "i called up the station," he said. "that's what kept me. the team was gone. the second train--the one we thought we were going on--was taken off this week. there isn't another on the schedule that will get us to belden in time for the baseball game!" chapter xvii touch and go the black eagle patrol stared blankly at nap. "no train!" s. s. repeated dully. "not a sign of one." nap had an irritating air of being pleased to act as bearer of bad news. "and the only possible automobile road on this side of the hills makes it a six-hour trip. that's why the seftons started at seven this morning." "i suppose," suggested jump, somewhat nettled, "i suppose you are going to say you're waterlooed." nap shook his head with a superior smile. "if you remember--i mean, if you've ever read about that campaign of napoleon's when he crossed the alps--" "no, i don't remember it and i never read about it," bi said bluntly, "and i don't expect to read about it, either, unless some teacher makes me; but if you have an idea up your sleeve, shake it out." "what's the plan, nap?" bunny queried patiently. "just this." nap hid his disappointment at being cut short. "the r. a. & s. railroad runs through harrison city, and the station is only about a mile from the other side of the lake. i have telephoned all over, and here's what i found out: there's a train over there, leaving harrison city at : . of course, the r. a. & s. doesn't run to belden, but you can get to deerfield on it, where there is a bus line to belden, sort of doubling back a ways, you see. if we make that : train, we'll be at the ball park by two o'clock." bunny nodded. "good work, nap; that fixes us. now, if roundy can borrow the launch--" roundy was sure he could. "--we'll scoot across the lake, leave the boat at the yacht club there, hike the mile to the harrison city station, and catch the train. come on; we haven't any time to spare." it took only a few seconds to make sure that their services at the deceased fire were no longer needed, and that royal sheffield's automobile would be safely stowed in the garage on main street. once assured on these points, the patrol struck out, at an alternate walk and trot they often practiced, by the shortest of short cuts to the boathouse. it was astonishing how well things went, so far as getting started was concerned. the boathouse key was hanging conveniently in its place; the launch's gasoline tank was filled to the brim; the engine started off as promptly as if it were accustomed to acting that way, instead of having what roundy aptly called "cranky fits." "we'll make it in a walk," announced nap, consulting his watch. "it's just : now. we'll cover those four miles of lake in thirty minutes. that's : . maybe we'll waste five minutes landing and getting the boat taken care of; that will bring it to : . and if we can't cover the mile to harrison city and get on the train in eighteen minutes more, we ought to turn in our scout badges." the others nodded agreement. "somebody camping on shadow island," broke in bonfire from his post of lookout in the bow of the boat. "i don't see any smoke," bi commented. "i don't see any tents, either. there's somebody standing on the shore, but there's a boat there, too. chances are it's just a fisherman." bonfire pointed to a little gap in a maple grove. "do you see that line of washing to the left, hung between those two trees? did you ever hear of any fisherman who went over to shadow island to do his washing?" "i'm licked," bi admitted. "who is it? are you enough of a sherlock holmes to tell us from here?" "i know who it is." s. s. joined the conversation. "it's two families from harrison city, cousins of marion genevieve chester. she told me so, and she's over there visiting them to-day." specs snorted. "i guess it won't break her heart if we pass right by without calling on her. she has about as much to do with us as she has with a bunch of rattlesnakes, and that's not a whole lot." "she thinks we still dislike her for being president of the student association," bunny observed mildly. "and she hasn't forgotten how bi allowed her to get scared at molly's picnic. she just thinks we haven't any use for her and wouldn't lift a finger to get her out of any trouble." "marion genevieve chester! wow, what a name!" mocked specs. the laughter that followed was a little uncertain. seating arrangements at school had made the girl, bunny and s. s. all next door neighbors. to the surprise of these two scouts, at least, they had found her snobbishness mainly the outcome of a solitary childhood, a thin veneer that was slowly but surely wearing off. though her fancied superiority to the other pupils had not yet vanished, the give and take of school life was gradually rubbing it away. smoothly, purringly, the launch clove its way toward the yacht club on the far side of the lake, while shadow island, the scene of bunny's initiation into the black eagle patrol,[ ] dropped astern. "on the home stretch and running like a watch," roundy declared. "we'll have time to get there and play an inning of baseball before the train starts. we can--" "shipwreck ahead!" it was bonfire's cry that brought the passengers of the boat to a sudden alertness. "tipped just now! two of them in it! one of them stood up! there they are!" the little craft ahead was keel up, with two heads bobbing alongside and two arms hugging tightly the side. faintly, the light breeze brought cries of distress. "one of them's a girl!" "they're both girls!" "what are they hollering for? they're all right if they just hang on. they can see us coming." "you mean they're all right if they don't get panicky." "turn the engine loose, roundy." roundy wiped a perspiring forehead. "the engine's doing all it can right now." bunny gave rapid-fire directions. "roundy, if there's any rescuing to do, you're the prize swimmer; so you'll do it. s. s., you handle the engine and the steering gear. everybody else, stand ready to help. bring our starboard up as close to the boat as you can and hold it there." shoes and stockings kicked off, roundy leaned over the side. "if they are all right, we can just pull them in; but if they are too scared, i'll jump in after them." he broke off to chuckle. "what is it?" "i'll eat my hat if the girl on the right isn't marion genevieve chester!" there was an eager second of straining. "it's marion genevieve, all right, and she's so scared she doesn't know her stylish name." "bring us up close, s. s. graze it if you can." no doubt remained that one of the two girls clinging to the upturned boat was marion genevieve chester. but while her companion saved strength by holding quietly and allowing the water to support as much of her weight as possible, marion genevieve not only exhausted herself by screaming, but in addition wasted her muscle reserve by striving vainly to pull herself higher out of the water. the launch was now within twenty feet. it slowed down. "better be ready to go overboard, roundy. always the chance of an accident, you know." bunny had hardly given the warning when, with a last frantic cry, the girl threw up two wild arms and splashed back into the water. "go over, roundy!" before her head could sink beneath the surface, the scouts realized that something had happened to roundy magoon. kicking wildly with his left leg, he had drawn back from the rail to the cockpit. "roundy!" marion genevieve's pale face, washed over by a tiny ripple, slipped beneath the water. snarling as though a wild beast had attacked him, roundy snatched at the coil of rope that nap had accidentally kicked into his path. with his fingers, he tore at the hemp line that had snarled about his ankle. the girl was above water again, coughing and spluttering and groping for some tangible support. "_roundy!_" and then, quite without command or plan, the balance of the black eagle patrol, plus little prissler, took his place. bunny was over first, with bi, jump and specs close seconds. nap followed, hard pressed by bonfire. then s. s. and prissler, and, last of all, the freed roundy. swiftly, surely, they cut their way to the helpless girl, with bunny in the lead. catching her dress near the back of her neck, he held her face clear of the water till, by clasping both hands under her chin, he was able to swim slowly on his back and tow her to safety. jump and nap swam alongside; bonfire was lending a hand to the other shipwrecked miss; prissler, who was obviously not as much at home in the water as the others, wisely put back for the launch; while s. s., ploughing through the water like a fish, was already clambering aboard, ready to start the engine. bi, roundy and specs joined forces in towing the upturned craft toward the power boat. the rest was comparatively simple. the scouts made no work at all of climbing back into the launch; and, with feet well braced, bi and specs easily lifted the two girls over the side. marion genevieve sank down on the leather cushions, weak and faint, though frightened rather than harmed. the other girl, who introduced herself as marion genevieve's cousin, was able to laugh good-naturedly. "we stood up in the boat," she said, "because we wanted to change seats. and--well, that's all!" "it may be all as far as you are concerned," thought more than one scout, "but we're going somewhere in a hurry, and now we'll have to take you back to shadow island and tow that capsized boat, to boot." but nobody was impolite enough to say this aloud. whatever bunny wished to do, it was plain that he had no choice in the matter. though marion genevieve was not dangerously ill or faint, she kept up a moaning for her mother that could not be disregarded. roundy, still a little disgruntled over his mishap, turned to the patrol leader, who nodded toward shadow island. with a line fast to the swamped boat, the launch engine started and they began to move slowly toward the shore line. it seemed to every boy that hours were being wasted, but nobody complained. not till she was once more on dry land did marion genevieve seem to come fully to herself. then, while her relatives were still trying to thank the patrol, she suddenly remarked, "why--why _all_ of you are wet!" "couldn't help it," said the cheerful specs. "we all dove off the boat and forgot to take our umbrellas." there were several emotions trying to express themselves on marion genevieve's face, but all she managed to say was, "i--i thank you--all of you! i'm very, very grateful." "oh, that's all right, marion genevieve," specs laughed. the girl's glance wavered. she picked at her wet dress. "i--please!" she said imploringly. and then it came out, as if it wrenched her very soul. "my name isn't marion genevieve," she told them. "it's mary; my middle name is jennie. i was called after two aunts of mine." she was staring straight at bunny now. he felt his cheeks redden. it was a hard position in which to put a fellow, he told himself, and probably he'd say the wrong thing. but when he spoke, it was honestly and naturally. "i think mary is a nice name," he said. the girl's low "thank you!" meant a good deal more to the scouts than they were able to understand just then. afterward, specs tried to put it into words. "she said it," he told the others, "as if she was sorry she had been so--so snippish to us, and as if she wanted us to forget and make up and--and everything. i'll bet you mary's going to be a regular girl after this. i like her about twice as much as i ever did before." but this was afterward. at the moment, the scouts merely nodded in an embarrassed manner and set about the task of shoving the launch into deep water, despite an almost irresistible appeal from the campers to wait for a treat of strawberries and cake and lemonade. "well," remarked roundy, when shadow island once more lay astern, "i'm glad we were there when we were needed. just the same, i'm afraid we've lost out. i'll talk to the engine, but we can't go any faster than just so fast." "there's time yet," bunny insisted; "there must be time yet." far and faint across the two-mile stretch of water came the sound of a bell. it pealed from the tower of harrison city's big church: four chimes--half-past ten. two miles of water and a mile of land to cover in twenty minutes! the scouts looked despairingly at the steadily throbbing engine. "it can't be done!" muttered roundy. "it can't be done!" footnote: [ ] see "the boy scouts of black eagle patrol." chapter xviii dead wires "we must have a chance yet," s. s. insisted weakly. "about as much of a chance as a dish of ice cream at a sunday-school picnic," grinned specs. bunny cleared his throat. "i know how you fellows feel about this, and i know just what we are up against. twenty minutes isn't much time for the distance we have to cover. just the same, i've made up my mind that we are going to be at the ball park in belden by three o'clock this afternoon, even if we have to build a toboggan and slide there. but we're not going to give up, not if i know anything about this patrol. we've never quit yet when something had to be done." there was a general murmur of agreement. little prissler said primly, "that's the spirit that moves mountains!" "and if it should turn out, at five minutes of three," added bunny, "that we are still trying to cross this lake, i'd vote for keeping right on toward belden till we reached there." "that's what we all say!" shouted bi enthusiastically; "that is, if some near-sighted laundry doesn't catch us and hang us up on a line to dry." in the laughter that followed, the nine boys began to take stock of their soaked clothing, wringing and pressing out as much of the water as they could. "the bullgine's picking up a little," said roundy hopefully, squirting a little oil on the exposed running parts and tightening the grease cups. "if we don't touch shore ahead of time, i'm a tenderfoot." with freshened courage, they waited the landing. and because neither breakdowns nor stoppages came their way, they climbed upon the yacht pier at exactly : . while roundy arranged with the keeper to look after the launch, bunny interviewed a fisherman on the best way to get to harrison city. "the main road is that macadamized pike right there," the man informed him. "it's a good mile and a quarter to the charles city station." bunny gasped. the situation was even worse than he had imagined. "but if you are in a hurry--" "we are, mister; we're in a mighty big hurry." "then take the old wagon road to the right," advised the fisherman. "it's a short cut over a couple of little hills. a bad stretch of road, i'm telling you, but only three quarters of a mile to harrison city that way. on foot, you'll get there a lot sooner than if you follow the main highway." "we want to catch the : train." "you'll make it if you keep your legs moving." a series of short blasts on the patrol leader's whistle gathered the eight boys about him. in a few quick words, bunny explained the lay of the roads. "we'll take up the scout's pace, and keep at it till we reach the station. we have almost ten minutes to make three quarters of a mile. i'll lead, and i want each fellow to hang close to the heels of the one ahead." "i'll be rearguard," said specs, as the nine boys broke into a trot. "remember, roundy, if you drop back, i'll--i'll pick you up and carry you into harrison city." there was nothing about the road to hinder people on foot. deep ruts and gullies made it practically impassable for finicky automobiles, but the nine boys strung out in single file and thus avoided bad places and fallen branches that had toppled upon the trail. less than a quarter mile from the lake, they skimmed the crest of the first hill with every fellow hanging close to his pace-setter. "it's like taking candy from a baby," specs grinned, as the group dropped into a walk. "what do you say, bunny, if we make the run a hundred yards and the walk fifty? we can do it easy enough." bunny was unwilling. "yes, we could," he admitted, "but we have a ball game to play this afternoon, and i guess we'll need all our strength to win it." the road was a little better now. trees that met overhead threw a grateful shade upon the hikers. there were even clumps of wild flowers waiting to be appreciated by anybody in the mood to look at them. but the scouts and the scout-trained prissler had their minds set upon catching that train, and the most beautiful flowers in the world could have bloomed their heads off without getting more than a passing glance. "off again!" bunny announced, giving the signal for the jog. they wound past a clump of trees and around a turn to the left. without warning, bunny slowed and halted. behind him, scout bumped scout, like a row of dominoes that is set falling. a man with a cane faced bunny. "i--it's--" he stammered incoherently before he loosed a flood of words. "boys, i must have help! i must have it! i must ask you to help me!" "what's the matter?" called specs, who had not heard the request. he was rubbing an affronted nose that had collided with roundy's back. it was now evident to bunny that the stranger was older than he had seemed at first. his face was lined with wrinkles. his back was twisted and bent, as if from rheumatism. when he spoke, his voice quavered uncertainly. "my wife and i, we live back there in that little frame house. she's just getting over a long spell of sickness, and it is necessary for me to be in touch with the harrison city doctor night and day. but now my telephone won't work; it's gone dead." "we'll leave word at harrison city." the old man shook his head despairingly. "it's a bad time of week to get anything done. this is saturday, you know, and they might not come--they might not come till monday." "well, what do you expect us to do, anyhow?" demanded the irritated specs. the old gentleman's hand trembled as he gestured. "i--i don't know. perhaps one of you could go to the telephone office and maybe stay right there and explain how much we needed the 'phone fixed and not give up till they started somebody out here to fix it." there were five seconds of uncomfortable silence, broken by bunny. "we might do better than that. if handy were here--" "roundy knows a lot about telephones," suggested jump. "not very much," roundy admitted slowly. "but i can tell if any of the wires are disconnected, or if the battery is dead, or if anything big is the matter with the instrument." "that's enough; that's plenty!" bunny was thinking hard and fast. "we all know a little something about electricity. roundy, you go to the telephone and look it over. i'll meet you there." roundy was off on a run. the old gentleman, staring in blank surprise, suddenly comprehended and shouted that the telephone was in the hall, just inside the front door. "now for the insulators," bunny said briskly. "you notice how the wires run from the house along those trees, with the insulators on the limbs. if somebody shinnies up each tree, we'll soon discover whether the trouble's between here and the regular poles." there was no time to discuss matters with the aged cottager, who seemed still dazed and wondering. like so many squirrels, the boys scattered and began squirming their way up the proper trunks. eight trees carried the glass insulators. fortunately, however, the one nearest the house could be examined with the aid of a friendly stepladder. bunny was up and down in the twinkling of an eye. with the other volunteer repairmen fairly started, he now made his way to roundy, already deep in his labors of examining the telephone. "i can't see anything wrong here," roundy grunted, squinting at the wire coiled in the box. he tested the poles of the battery with a wet finger. "plenty of juice in that. everything tightly connected, and transmitter and receiver in good shape." bunny flung open the nearest window. "find anything wrong, bi?" "nothing here. how about you, specs?" "right as a trivet on this tree." down the line the scouts reported, each to the effect that his wire and insulator were in prime condition. from the last tree, prissler shouted a confident, "o. k. here." puzzled and disappointed, bunny turned again to roundy, who was making a last effort to call central. almost two minutes had passed in this determination to live up to the scout law that says a scout must be helpful and prepared at all times to give aid to those in need. if they hoped to catch the train-- "oh, bi!" it was the voice of bonfire cree calling from the fourth tree, that roused bunny from his slump of depression. "look back where the wire leaves the house. it doesn't come out from the corner; it turns through that vine. take a look at the vine." with a shout, bi swung from the lowest limb of his perch, and ran to the spot bonfire had pointed out. along the side of the house, a vine had wrapped its heavy creepers around a little segment of the wire between the insulator on the corner and the holes where the wire turned in to connect with the instrument. slapping open his knife, bi slashed away the green foliage, to expose a tiny patch of wire, hard against a tin rain trough, where faulty insulation had rubbed or rotted free, forming a short circuit. by bending out the copper strands, the trouble was eliminated. at that moment, a smile creased roundy's cheeks into joyous wrinkles. "listen to this!" he said, handing the receiver to bunny. faintly, but distinctly, the patrol leader could hear the voice of central. "number, please?" "get 'em together, roundy, and have bi start on a slow jog and keep it up. i'll catch you. and hustle, because we have a fighting chance yet." as roundy picked up his cap, bunny turned his attention to the telephone. "the r. a. & s. station, please. no, i don't know the number, and there isn't a book here. but it's important." a moment later, a gruff voice answered. "r. a. & s." "nine of us want to catch that : train. we must make it. can't you hold it sixty seconds for us? yes, we'll be there surely by : ; by : , i hope. just sixty seconds?" the answer made his heart leap. "thank you! thank you! you've done us the biggest favor anybody could!" working with all possible speed, bunny hooked the front of the telephone box in place, warned the old gentleman to tape the exposed wire outside the house, and dashed after the others, without getting more than the first part of the thanks which were being showered upon him. already the other boys had rounded the next bend in the road, and it took stiff running for almost three hundred yards to catch them. "just heard the whistle of the train," specs confided, as bunny came even. "we'll make it," said bunny confidently. "why, we're not much behind schedule. there are over seventy seconds of our regular time left, and they have promised to hold the train an extra minute for us." as they trotted down the last hill, the railroad station came into sight. already slowing down, the train was just pulling in. "safe at last!" nap shouted. "i knew we could catch it." but even while they were still running, a most unexpected thing happened. the train braked to a stop. but it wasn't a real stop. as specs said, it seemed as though the engineer just "hesitated." almost before the big driving wheels had ceased revolving, and with the nine boys still a good two hundred yards from the track, the engine puffed, the piston rods spun the wheels till the friction caught, and the train, under gathering speed, pounded out of sight. chapter xix on the handcar "waterloo!" exclaimed nap. "there's a chance yet," bunny urged. "maybe she's just moving up to the switch to get on another track." "a fat chance!" said the cynical specs. "that other track runs to new york or san francisco or somewhere. no, siree, that train isn't coming back to harrison city again to-day." as the boys watched the fading black smoke, it grew more and more evident that specs was right. the train which was to have been their salvation had gone without them. bunny shook his head stubbornly. "i don't know how we are going to get there, but i mean to keep on trying. nobody is licked till he gives up, and we are a long way from giving up. does anybody want to quit?" the "no" that answered was not full-throated, but it satisfied the patrol leader. "all right, then; we'll take up the scout's pace again till we reach the station." it was a few seconds past : when the boys crossed the tracks; it still lacked a little of : when bunny found the young man in charge of the station puttering over a trunk in the baggage room. "oh, you're the one who telephoned about that train?" he said, smiling pleasantly. "well, she left ahead of time; there's no doubt about that. i don't know why she did any more than you do. she came puffing in, and mr. gillen--he's the station master here--hopped on board to speak to the conductor, and the train carried him off, too. never left before like that, and i don't understand it. nobody told me a word about it." "where's the next stop?" "wells junction. that's just three miles away. they wait there till : to make connections with the b. & x." "three miles." bunny did a little mental arithmetic. "why, we could catch it there, then, if we just had some way of getting there." the young man became interested. "did you say there were nine of you? well, here's a hand car that i was going to send up to the junction sometime this afternoon. it would be perfectly safe, because there aren't any freights coming, and there isn't another passenger due till midnight. let's see. you want to go to deerfield, where you take the 'bus for belden. now, you buy tickets for deerfield, and i will let you take the hand car. if you miss the train for any reason, you can turn in your tickets and get your money back." to bunny, it seemed altogether too good to be true; but there was no time to waste rejoicing over the news. "all right," commented bi a little heavily, "but i never thought i should have to pay for my own ticket. still, of course, there's no way out of it." it required the greater portion of the scouts' ready cash to pay for the thirty-eight-mile trip to deerfield. roundy had disappeared, so his ticket had to be purchased out of the common fund; but they had barely worked the hand car to the main track before he hove in sight, his arms full of sandwiches and boxes of crackers. "getting along toward dinner time," he explained, "and nobody knows when we'll get anything to eat, if we don't stock up when we have the chance." the young man at the station gave them a parting word of advice. "you may think the hand car works hard at first, but after you get going it will pretty nearly run itself. don't waste any time, but roll 'er along as fast as you can. turn it over to the agent at the junction and tell him that jensen sent you. by-by!" the young man was right. the hand car did run loggily at first; but with four hardy scouts on each handlebar, it slowly gained headway. "it's not exactly an automobile," said specs, between strokes, "but it goes." "you can't puncture the tires, either," added jump. "somebody punctured this right forward one," suggested s. s., as by jolt and jar the wheel proved that it was no longer as round as it had been. nap had the solution. "keep your eyes open, mr. sherlock holmes bonfire, and when you see a 'free air' sign we'll stop." for the first time since the fire, the black eagles were actually growing cheerful. they seemed no longer chasing a will-o'-the-wisp hope; at last, they were substantially on their way to victory. the handles fairly flew. "i guess old professor leland will be glad to see us," chuckled roundy. "and i guess the belden team won't like it so well," observed specs. "and that party they are going to give us after the game," bi said, smacking his lips. "i wouldn't miss it for anything." they spun along up a little grade, through a deep cut, and out upon a high trestle. "if we were inside the car of a train," bunny said, "we wouldn't notice a little thing like this." he looked down at a cottage nestling upon the slope below. "i hope there's somebody there with a blanket to catch us if we go over the edge." "somebody on the path at this side," called bonfire. "it's a railroad man, too." "how do you know? is he wearing overalls and carrying an oil can?" [illustration: above the clatter-clatter of the hand car, a voice shouted from below. _page ._] "no, he has on a blue uniform. might be a conductor; or he may work around a station, or--" raspingly and distinctly above the clatter-clatter of the hand car, a voice shouted from below. "stop!" "he's calling to us." "let him call. maybe he's just making a speech to the trestle." thus specs. "stop that hand car!" they had already spanned the tiny bridge and were upon the solid track beyond. just ahead, the rails curved around a steep bank. "let him yell," said bi defiantly. "he hasn't any way of stopping us, has he? probably thinks we are stealing this old pushcart. well, we aren't." "what's he got to do with it, anyhow?" spluttered nap, plunging harder than ever on the handle. "we had permission to do this, and we're going to do it, mr. blue uniform or not." it was bunny who settled the matter. throwing his weight on the bar as it came up, and holding it back as it swung down, he issued his orders as patrol leader. "everybody hold fast. we're going to stop and find out what he wants." there was a grunt of indignant protest from specs, but the others obeyed first and talked afterwards. "look here, bunny," bi objected, as the car slowed down, "you are running this party and i'm not; so what you say goes. but i don't see any use of stopping. we aren't doing anything wrong. we've been given permission to operate the car. he hasn't any right to tell us we can't, and if he tells us we can--why, we know that already. there he comes now up over the bank. i say, start up again and explain when we get to wells junction." specs chimed in. "we're not going anywhere on our own account; we're going to play baseball for the school. all we're doing by stopping now is asking for trouble." the wheels ground to a dead center. bunny's lips were set. "i know how you feel. i feel that way myself. but i know we can't do that sort of thing. this man isn't a section hand: he's wearing a uniform; he has a cap; it looks as if he had some right to tell us to stop. i'll put it up to him just as strong as i can, and he may let us go on. if he won't--" the man was within fifty yards of them, running at a clumsy gait up the track. though puffing and out of wind, he did his best to shout. "take--that--hand car--off the--track!" "like fun we will!" muttered specs. the man came on, repeating his command. "take it off--yank it off--right away!" bunny stiffened. "i don't think you understand--" "you young rascals stole this car. yes, you did. you can't tell me any different." he was with them now; he placed protecting hands on the property of the r. a. & s. railroad. "if you don't yank it off the track, right on the dot, i'll--" bunny's eyes narrowed. his hands, quite without any effort on his part, became fists. but he kept his voice level, though it had what specs called later "a sort of grindstone sound." "we are boy scouts," explained bunny, "and we have been given permission to use the car. we stopped because we thought you had the right to tell us to stop; not because we are afraid of you. we are going to wells junction, and if you have nothing better to do than call us names, mister, we'll keep right on going there." when they talked it over afterward, everybody but specs agreed that the man changed his style of remarks, not because he was afraid, but because he had begun to understand. however this might be, his next speech was much milder. "permission or not, you will have to yank this car off the track; we can talk about it later." "but why?" "why! because, if you don't, you're going to be smashed into a million pieces. there is a big special coming through any minute. it's on its way. now, get that hand car off where it won't be responsible for an accident." though not trained section hands, the black eagles came near making a record in tipping, levering and hoisting the unwieldy hand car to a safe place along the right of way. once it was safely there, the man in uniform seated himself on it and wiped his forehead. "i haven't had such a turn since the bad wreck in ' . why, when i saw you boys going lickety-split along the track, i was ready to curl up and quit. how did you happen to have the car, anyhow?" as rapidly as possible, bunny told him the story of the morning's adventures, including the acquisition of the hand car. "so jensen said that, did he? well, he has been working there about a week, and what he doesn't know about railroading would fill a library. letting a lot of boys come up the track in a hand car! i never heard of such a thing." "is your name gillen?" asked bonfire suddenly. "my name's gillen. i am the station master at harrison city. i am responsible for whatever happens around here. there was something the matter with the wires this morning, and the last half-hour every message we received was chopped up like so much sausage. we did not get a word about the special. i hopped on the : --it rolled in at : --to find out what they knew, and they carried me right along. they had orders to run right through to wells junction unless they had passengers waiting. they dropped me here at the trestle, and i had just telephoned jensen about it when i heard you coming. since i stopped that hand car, i feel about ten years younger." the minutes were ticking away, but there was nothing to be done. with the news of the special on its way, it was plain that any thought of going ahead must be put aside until they could count on a clear track. already a mile had been covered, but the remaining distance was too great to walk in the limited time left them. no, there was nothing to do but wait. mr. gillen went to the house below, to finish his talk over the telephone with jensen, while the boys fumed to no purpose. it was after eleven o'clock when he returned, and it was almost five minutes later when the special, with its private car, rumbled by with a swish of dust and cinders. "i am sorry, boys," said the station master, "but it is against the rules of the road to allow any outsider to take chances like those you were taking. if the special had come nine minutes ago, i should have gone on with you myself; but it's too late now even for that." bunny looked at his watch. at that very moment, the train which they had tried so desperately to catch must be pulling out of wells junction. they had lost their last chance of continuing their trip to belden in one of its coaches. chapter xx busted! bi broke the silence. "i'm getting mad," he said. "it's almost as though somebody was trying to keep us from playing that belden game. well, i'm going to belden, even if i have to walk." "walking is cheap, anyhow," sympathized specs. "by the way, mr. gillen, don't you think you might loan us the hand car just this once, so we can get to deerpark--or whatever its name is?" the station master laughed "you couldn't pump it there on time if i did let you try, and i won't. but i will tell you boys what you can do." "what's that?" queried bunny, feeling very much as if a spark of sunshine had just shoved its way through some particularly black clouds. "some of the farmers around here own automobiles. now, a motor car would get you to belden just as quick as going on the r. a. & s. to deerfield and then waiting for a 'bus. why don't you try? they can't do any more than say 'no' to you." "it's the only thing we can do now," agreed bunny. "no, it isn't," roundy interrupted. "there's one other thing we can do, and that is--eat! we don't know when we'll be ready to tuck our legs under a table. so if nobody wants any of this truck i bought at harrison city, i'll take care of it myself." but the scouts, with something like an indian war-whoop, made it clear that they had no intention of being left out when it came to sandwiches and sweet crackers. even mr. gillen, after some urging, ate a handful of ginger snaps and told them the story of the big wreck in ' . when the lunch ended, indeed, the boys were rather sorry to part with the station master, whose last words were a promise to let them all ride in an engine cab the next time they reached harrison city. "you will find the road just beyond that little hill," he said. "there is at least one farmhouse not more than a half mile from here. now, don't forget that i am going to take you all riding on one of the r. a. & s.'s biggest engines when i see you again." it was : when the boys struck the wagon road, paralleling the track, and : when they encountered a small boy with a fishing pole over his shoulder. was this the road to belden? the small boy couldn't be sure; belden was "a awful long ways"; maybe the road ran to belden and maybe it didn't. "we'll find out soon enough," said bunny. "how about motor cars? does anybody around here own an automobile?" the small boy nodded vigorously. "you see that peddler's wagon up the road there, where the horse is standing under the tree? well, right on the other side of the road, up a piece, there's mr. jenkins' house. he's got an automobile--a awful big one." "does he ever rent it?" "hold on," bi protested; "it takes real money to rent a car, and i'll bet there isn't more than three dollars in the crowd." "we can pay for the gas and oil, anyhow, and when we get to belden horace hibbs will lend us the rest. the question is, does he rent it?" "he takes people out sometimes," admitted the small boy. "then the next stop is jenkins'," bunny announced. "bi, you had better act as treasurer and handle the money. here's twenty-eight cents; that leaves me without anything." "better say 'busted'," put in slangy specs, "so we'll know what you mean." as they hurried down the road, the boys turned over to bi all the stray dimes, nickels and coppers from their pockets, totaling altogether two dollars and one cent. "enough to buy the car!" commented specs. "at that, we are better off than our friend, the peddler," observed bonfire. "something has happened to his right front wheel, and he doesn't seem to know what to do." "and something has happened to him," s. s. remarked. "judging from his looks, he might have been run through a wringer." the peddler was a lean, hollow-cheeked man, whose black moustache only made his pale face the whiter. as the boys came up, he was squinting ruefully at the broken wheel; its tire and splintered spokes seemed to be almost beyond repair. but when they halted by the side of the wagon, he turned and smiled good-naturedly. "it's busted," he said, "and the more i see of it, the more busted it looks." the boys surveyed the wheel critically. "i don't think you can go on with that till you've done business with a blacksmith," decided bi. "that's just what i think, too. it's a second-hand wagon and about a fifth-hand horse." he patted the animal's lean flank. "but i hoped they would both hold together till i was fairly started. you see, i was working in the factory over at charles city till a cleated belt and i came together in a clinch. after the doctor was through patching me up, he said i would have to stay outdoors. so i bought this outfit and was just starting my new business when the wheel busted." "there is a good blacksmith shop back in harrison city," bunny suggested. "you can prop up the wagon and carry the wheel there on horseback." the peddler nodded. "that's all right up to the point where i have to pay for fixing the wheel, and then--" he stopped with a little laugh. "flat busted," he confessed. "why, if i didn't figure that my luck was going to change, i should go right up and knock on the front door of the poorhouse. the wheel's busted; i'm busted. what's more, the stuff i have on the wagon won't sell until i get past harrison city, because they tell me that three peddlers have been along here in the last week." an uncomfortable silence followed, which was finally broken by bunny's saying awkwardly that it was time to move on. "good luck, boys, wherever you're going!" the peddler waved his hand in friendly farewell. "and if you see a stray wheel rolling down the pike, i wish you would steer it my way." the patrol had gone less than one hundred yards when bunny broke out with an abrupt, "wait a minute!" for some reason, the eight scouts and the attached prissler were all ready and willing to stop. "he can't fix that wheel." "of course, he can't." "he'll have to go to some blacksmith shop." "he's not any too well, either, and chances are he has a family to support." "well?" said nap. he repeated the word, "well?" "it's no use," sighed jump. "i don't want to do it, but there's no way out. i'd feel a lot better, bi, if you'd take my share of the money and give it to him." "same here," agreed s. s. without any sort of hesitation or argument, the patrol commissioned bi to carry the two dollars and the one cent to the unfortunate peddler. bi raced down the road, while the other eight jogged slowly, awaiting his return. when he rejoined them, he was breathless but wore a satisfied smile. "what happened? what did he say?" they were eager for the news. "well, he didn't understand at first; thought i was trying to buy something. when he did understand, though, that we wanted to give him the money, he bent down and began looking at the wheel, and something got in his eyes. i didn't wait to hear all his story, but he told me enough to give a pretty good idea. he has a family in charles city, and he left every cent with them, to keep things going. but he wouldn't take our money as a gift; wanted to know where he should send it when he could repay the loan. so i gave him bunny's name and address." specs was the first to speak. "i'm glad we helped him out," he said, "but now we'd better think about ourselves. what are we going to do, now that the whole outfit's--busted?" bunny shrugged his shoulders. "it would be better to have money, of course, but if we haven't any, we can manage somehow without it." they were opposite the jenkins farm. through the pines, the house was visible, set far back from the highway. specs halted. "you mean that farmer there will pay any attention to us if we can't show him our money first?" "that's just what i do mean. we are not the only people in the world who do good turns. a lot of folks get fun out of good turns who never heard of the boy scouts." specs frowned. "and you think this farmer will take us to belden, when all we can do is to promise him that we will pay him after we get there and borrow the money?" "we'll find out. we'll tell him just the fix we're in and how we expect to get the money to pay him; and if he is any kind of a judge of people, he will know we are speaking the truth." "he may know we're speaking the truth," said specs decisively, "but when you ask him to risk his gasoline and his car, he'll say he has something else to do. but come along; you'll see i'm right." they turned into the driveway; it led to a little lawn just in front of a white house with green blinds. "there's the car," said nap, pointing to a bulky automobile visible through the open door of a homemade garage. "and back there is the man who owns it," said bonfire. "hear that? he's behind the house, hoeing." "you don't know whether it's a man, woman or child," answered specs. he stooped and picked up a stone. "i suppose if i chuck this over here, you can tell me whether it lights on an ant hill or on a yellow dandelion." jerking his arm, he shot the stone in the direction of the corner of the house. from the rear, a second later, came the crash and jingle of breaking glass. "yes, i can tell you where it lit," said bonfire cheerfully. "it lit on a cold frame. you sent the stone right through it. and here comes the man i was telling you about. if you had kept your eyes open, you would have noticed that his coat and hat are lying over there in the grass." from behind the house, hoe in hand, stalked a tall, big-fisted farmer, whose beetling eyebrows and scraggly beard gave him a most forbidding appearance. "who busted that pane of glass?" he called angrily. "busted!" whispered specs. "the peddler was busted, the wagon was busted, we're busted, and now the cold frame is busted. is there anything anywhere that isn't busted?" aloud he said, "i did it; i threw the stone." bunny interposed hurriedly. "it was a mistake. we didn't know the cold frame was there." "mistake, huh?" his frown deepened. "well, i suppose you can pay for your mistakes?" bunny shook his head. "we can't pay for it now; we haven't a cent. but the nine of us must be in belden by three o'clock this afternoon. if you will take us there in your car we will see that you get paid for the trip and for the broken glass, too." the farmer stared angrily. "is that all you have to say?" bunny took a step forward. "no," he said mildly. "if you don't care to take us, i will leave my watch with you until i can send you the money for the broken glass. it is a five-dollar watch, so you can be sure it's worth more to me than the price of one pane of glass. and if you will let us use your telephone, while we try to rent an automobile somewhere, i'll be glad to send you the money for every call." it is not easy for an angry man to remain angry when the person with whom he wishes to quarrel keeps his temper. for a solid ten seconds the farmer frowned; then his eyebrows raised and his balled fists unclenched. "look here," he began awkwardly, "i'm not such a hard man as all that. i don't want your watch. tell me why you are all bent on getting to belden by three o'clock." as briefly as possible, bunny related the misadventures of their trip. "you're a plucky lot," commented the farmer when the boy had finished. "and i should be glad to take you, for nothing, because i counted on driving to belden myself this afternoon. but i can't go, and i can't take you, because--" tense and eager, the nine boys listened for the reason. "--because the car is busted." "busted!" repeated specs dolefully. "i knew it all the time. everybody and everything is busted!" chapter xxi borrowers' luck with something of an effort, bunny wrenched his gaze from the back of the disappointing automobile and turned to specs. "no, not everybody," he said, striving hard to be cheerful. "there's the peddler, you know; he isn't busted any more--quite!" "what peddler?" the farmer lifted an inquiring head. everybody squirmed uncomfortably. it was the code of the black eagle patrol not to talk about the good turns it did, because that sounded like bragging. but the farmer was persistent. bit by bit, with question and guess and prompting, he pieced out the story: how the boys had found the peddler on the road, with his second-hand wagon that had come to grief; how he had confessed he had no money for the necessary repairs; how the boys, because they were scouts and it was their duty to do a good turn when they could, had given him their last cent and sped him on his way rejoicing. when the last scrap of confession had been dragged from them, the farmer held out his hand to bunny. "so you are the patrol leader, are you, payton? well, i am glad to know a boy like you. jenkins is my name; alfred jenkins." gravely, bunny introduced the other scouts. "and this is young prissler," he concluded. "he is training to be a tenderfoot, and just as soon as there is a vacancy in the patrol he will be taken in." "so?" mr. jenkins nodded understandingly. he scratched at his beard. "i reckon," he added, "you get a lot of satisfaction doing good turns like that. by ginger, i'd like to have that feeling myself. if the old 'bus would only run--" "what's the matter with it?" demanded the practical specs. mr. jenkins spread his hands helplessly. "i wish i knew. but i'm no mechanic. she's just dead; dead on her feet, you might say. won't go. won't even start." "gas line clogged, maybe." "loose connections." "carburetor float stuck." "magneto points burned off." the farmer's eyes kindled before this volley of suggestions. "say," he exclaimed, "do you boys know anything about a car?" "a little," bunny nodded. "specs here is trying for a merit badge for automobiling, and we all got sort of interested in his studying. you have to know a good deal about a car to get that badge." "well, say!" mr. jenkins was as eager as a youngster. "say, let's trundle her out here and look her over. you might find out what's wrong." because specs had honestly devoted a great deal of his spare time to his ambition of qualifying for a merit badge in automobiling, bunny put him in charge. it was no trick at all, of course, to release the brake and roll the car out of the homemade garage. once in the open, specs hopped into the front seat. "no, that self-starter hasn't worked for a long time," mr. jenkins confessed, as the scout pressed a tentative foot against it and cocked his ear expectantly for the hum of the motor. "batteries dead, i 'spose. you'll have to crank her." "all right, bi!" called specs; "you're the boy to wind her up." bi grimaced. he might need his good right arm for pitching that afternoon. but at a nod from bunny, he sprang readily enough to the crank. unless the car started, it looked like there wouldn't be any baseball game to play. balancing the crank once or twice against the compression, he lifted it suddenly and spun it with all his might. but no explosion signaled the success of his effort. bi straightened up to catch his breath and wipe off the perspiration that was trickling down his face. "try her again," specs ordered. "i'll work the spark when you get going." bi bent to his task for the second time. round and round whirled the crank. but, as before, the motor refused to "catch." "prime her," suggested bonfire. once more bi cranked till he was ready to drop. in the meantime, bonfire began prowling about and muttering to himself: "tank full. gas flows all right. carburetor float not stuck. must be the ignition." he tested with a long-bladed screwdriver. "yep; no spark. sure you've--hello! why, you muckle-headed mcgrew, do you expect to get a merit badge for trying to start a motor without throwing on the switch?" "what!" bi threw himself on the ground and kicked feebly. "do you mean to say i've been cranking my head off when you didn't even throw over the switch? help!" specs grinned sheepishly. "i thought you needed the exercise," he said. "all right; she'll start now." but she wouldn't. bi cranked till he was red in the face, without the reward of even one feeble puff from the exhaust. with a last spin of the handle, for good measure, he stepped back disgustedly. "if anybody else thinks he can twist her tail any better than that," he announced, "let him step up and try. i'm through; postilutely through." by this time, even specs was ready to admit that the motor was "busted." "it's the ignition," he explained. "as soon as we find out why she doesn't get a spark, we can fix her in a jiffy." but discovering the nub of the trouble proved no easy job. the spark plugs were taken out; all connections were examined; each wire was traced to coil and magneto; the magneto itself came in for critical inspection. but no break or short circuit revealed itself. already, the first glowing enthusiasm of the boys was blowing cold and dead. bonfire snapped the switch backward and forward. "feels loose," he said. "let me have that screwdriver, specs." with deft hands, he removed the face of the switch-box. "here's the little nigger in the woodpile, fellows!" he called exultingly. "see, those loose nuts allow the contact plate to drop down. the circuit is not completed even when you throw on the switch. no wonder she won't run!" he twirled the nuts with his fingers and clamped them tight with a wrench. "now try her." "not me!" jeered bi. "i've cranked her from here to belden already. let somebody else crank her home again." but even while he talked, he was walking toward the front of the car. roundy reached for the swinging handle, only to be pushed aside by bi. with scarcely an effort, the strongest scout in the patrol turned her over again--and the motor sprang into life with a roar. "throttle her down!" bi shouted to specs. "wake up there! don't let her race! if ever you win a merit badge for automobiling, i'll eat it for breakfast. isn't he rotten, mr. jenkins?" the farmer smiled. "oh, he'll pass, i reckon. now, let me see. five of you on the back seat, two on the collapsible chairs--that's seven--and two of you on the front seat here with me. wait just a minute till i get my coat and tell my wife i'm going, and we'll start." "with any kind of luck at all," bunny promised happily, looking at his watch, "we should be at the belden ball park a little after one o'clock. it's : right now, and we have about thirty-seven miles to cover." specs held up his hand. "i've got my fingers crossed," he said. "don't forget all the things that have happened to us so far to-day. touch wood when you say that, bunny." but luck seemed at last to be roosting with the black eagle patrol. once out upon the main highway, the motor settled down to a contented purr, with never a miss or hint of trouble, and the big car rolled placidly toward belden, piling the miles behind it quite as if it were shod with seven-league boots instead of rubber tires. mr. jenkins admitted that he was "no great shucks at driving", but he more than made up for any lack of technical skill by his careful and common-sense handling of wheel and accelerator. an hour before, belden had seemed to the scouts some far spot on the rim of the world; now, as everybody felt, it lay just over the hill. there is no denying that the boys enjoyed the ride. more than once, they had watched enviously as royal sheffield dashed into lakeville with his trim roadster; more than once, too, if the truth be known, they had lingered hungrily as he backed it out of grady's barn after school and made ready for the homeward trip. but sheffield lived in charlesboro, and his motoring was done largely in the roads about that village. true, the sefton automobile never had a vacant seat when any boy could be found to fit it; but mr. sefton used the car for business, and it was also frequently out of town. this was different, too; this was a cross-country jaunt, over unfamiliar roads, mile upon mile, with every turn and rise revealing new wonders. "like it?" asked mr. jenkins, without turning his head. there was no adequate way of expressing their gratitude and pleasure, but the farmer seemed well content with specs' explosive, "you bet we do!" it was curious about mr. jenkins. he owned the car, and he must have ridden thousands of miles in it; yet he seemed to be getting just as much fun out of this trip as any of his guests. "haven't felt so young in thirty years," he said once, with a chuckle, as he swung wide to avoid a bump. on and on sang the car: uphill, biting on second speed; across a bit of tableland, feeling its oats on high; down a long incline, pulsing with such eagerness that it had to be restrained; through wood roads, bowered with cool, overhanging trees; into the bright sunshine again; past farmhouses, with barking dogs and waving people; over long stretches of concrete, that gave back never a jounce or jolt; through sleepy little villages, waking and nodding a single welcome and good-by in one; out into the country once more, between green fields of sprouting corn and wheat; and on and on, motor humming drowsily and rubber-tired wheels crisping their chorus. it was good just to be outdoors on such a day in june. they climbed a long, winding hill. at the top was a little cottage, bordered by a trim lawn, which was splashed here and there with gay flower plots. in the background loomed a barn, more than twice the size of the house, with a silo at one side and a windmill just beyond. mr. jenkins squinted meditatively from the spout of his radiator, steaming a bit, to the windmill. "reckon we'd better stop for water," he announced. a gray, bent wisp of a man answered his knock on the door and listened gravely to his request for the loan of a pail. he seemed to be looking, not at mr. jenkins, but through him, as if he were only vaguely aware of the other's presence. but he said, "oh, yes," and brought the pail. it took only a minute to fill the radiator. mr. jenkins began to screw on the cap, while the boys piled back into the car. bunny picked up the pail and carried it to the house. as he lifted his hand to knock on the door, he heard something that made him hesitate. inside the house, a woman was crying softly, and a man's voice was soothing, over and over, "now, ma! now, ma! don't take on so! it can't be helped! now, ma! now, ma!" after a moment of indecision, bunny rapped. the sobbing stopped. footsteps approached the door, and presently it was opened, a little hesitatingly, by the man from whom mr. jenkins had borrowed the pail. bunny extended it to him, with a word of thanks. he had meant to turn away at once, but something seemed to hold him. "is--is anything wrong there?" he asked, jerking his thumb toward the darkened room within. "it's just ma," the little man told him. he spoke meekly, almost apologetically, but his high-pitched voice carried clearly to the other boys. "she's all broke up over not seein' john." "john?" bunny put a question in the word; then, when it brought no reply, he added, at a hazard, "he's your son, sir?" "yes, john's our boy. he's a good boy, john is. but he's been away a long time, and now--" "is he coming home?" the man raised his hand as if to ward off a blow. "no," he said in a wavering voice. "he's going away, mebbe for years; going away to china. he's an engineer, john is; works for a big construction company in new york city. this spring he wrote that he would come home to visit ma and me. so we tidied up all about for him." the little man waved an expressive hand, and bunny understood, all at once, why the grass was so neatly cropped, and why the flowers studded the lawn, and why the pathway to the door was made of clean, white pebbles. it had all been done for their son. "but to-day we got a telegram--delayed, they said over the 'phone. he can't come. he's ordered to china, right away, to help build a new railroad. his boat leaves san francisco on the sixth, and he can't even stop on his way across the country. but he said--" "yes?" bunny encouraged. "he wired to meet his train at middletown on the third--that's to-day. it stops there twenty minutes. but the telegram just came, and we haven't any way of getting there. that's why ma is all broke up. she won't see him for years more, mebbe." "oh!" said bunny. a queer, numb feeling seemed to be gripping him. "how far is middletown?" "eighteen mile; nearer nineteen, mebbe." "and belden?" perhaps mr. jenkins could come back. "nine mile and a half." "when does that train get to middletown?" "goin' on two o'clock, i think." "oh!" said bunny again. he looked at his watch: : . no, even if mr. jenkins were willing, it would be out of the question for him to come back to laurel in time to take the old couple to middletown. there was just one way out of the difficulty. the man's wistful eyes were staring again, looking straight through him, just as they had been when he answered mr. jenkins' knock. bunny understood now what they were straining to see. it was another boy, this little man's boy, bound for a foreign country. and inside the house, striving bravely to stifle her sobs, was the mother. bunny made up his own mind quickly enough. he knew what he wanted to do. but there were the other fellows to consider. they wouldn't agree to his plan; no, not in a thousand years. they had a right to-- behind him, he caught the murmur of a low question and answer. then a voice called, "oh, bunny!" "yes?" he turned to the car. save for mr. jenkins, it was quite empty. all the boys had climbed to the ground. "mr. jenkins will take them to middletown." it was bi speaking. "he says he will be glad to do it. tell her to hurry." bunny's heart gave a glad leap. it wasn't wholly because of the sacrifice they were all making, although that counted, of course, but because of the way in which they had decided the matter, unanimously and without a single objection. he wondered if anywhere else in the world there were fellows like that! "all right," he said, fighting hard to keep the catch out of his voice. then to the man in the doorway: "mr. jenkins will take you and your wife to middletown, sir, so you can see your boy. oh, no, we'll be glad to stretch our legs and walk a bit. that's nothing. good-by, sir." "good-by," said the little man. his eyes were shining now. he held out a trembling hand. "good-by and god bless you!" and with this benediction ringing in their ears, the nine boys waved to mr. jenkins, who was fussing with something on the dash, and began the hike down the long hill toward the wooded valley at the bottom. chapter xxii one car and three cows the young man looked worried. he was capless and coatless, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled to the elbows. when he saw the nine boys approaching, he stopped and waited for them. "i'll bet you," said specs, "that's george w. trouble's youngest son. about half the world seems to be needing help to-day. shall we walk right past without seeing him?" "shall we?" asked bonfire slyly. "we can pretend, of course, that we don't notice his car, on ahead a bit." "whose car? where? how do you know?" specs was twisting his head and straining his eyes for some glimpse of an automobile. "what makes you think he has a car?" bonfire grinned. "well, maybe he carries those goggles in his shirt pocket just to look like a driver, but--" "anybody could guess after seeing them," sniffed specs, unimpressed. he caught the snicker that was going around the patrol. "oh, all right! all right! maybe i did overlook 'em. if you're so smart, mr. sherlock holmes, tell me where the car is and why he isn't riding in it." bonfire bowed mockingly. "certainly. the car is down there in the hollow, off to one side of the road. it is stuck in the mud. the man has tried chains on the rear wheels, but it won't pull itself free, even with them. he wants us to give him a lift." "rats!" said specs. he dismissed the statements as careless banter. "but if that fellow has a car able to run to belden, and needs something like a loose switch tightened--" a heavy wink completed the sentence. bunny frowned. there were times when specs simply could not and would not remember the scout law about taking pay for good turns. but it was too late to thresh out the question with him. by this time, they were abreast the young man. "good afternoon, fellows!" he said to them. "i'm in a bit of a mess, with my car stuck in the mud there in the hollow. i swerved off the road, to avoid running down a dog, and plumped into the soft creek-bed. she won't pull out, even with chains." bunny nodded his willingness to help. he was afraid specs would blurt out something about pushing out the car in return for a ride to belden but he need not have worried. specs was wholly beyond speech. the absolute confirmation of bonfire's guesses, detail by detail, had left him stunned and dumb. "say," he gasped to that scout, as they turned to follow the young man to a point where the road dipped into a broad gulley, "how did you figure it all out, anyhow? what did you see that made you know about the mired car?" "nothing," smiled bonfire good-naturedly. "i didn't see a thing except the goggles; they connected the man with a car. but i did use my ears. halfway down the hill, when everybody was pretty glum and not saying much, i heard a motor racing, then the clutch thrown in, then a sort of churning, with the motor slowing till it almost stalled. once or twice it did. so i knew a car was stuck. it was off the road a ways, of course, because this is a state highway, with a rock bottom. and the only place a car would mire is in some low hollow, where the sun never has a chance to shine through the trees and dry the mud. that's all." "but you said the car had chains on." "oh, yes, the chains. i did use my eyes there. it was the mud on the man's shirt sleeves, where he reached around the tires putting them on, that told me he had tried chains. anything else you want to know?" "what color are his grandmother's eyes?" specs demanded fiercely. "tell me that, you bunk detective. what's his sister's middle name? what make of car is it?" "saybrook touring," answered bonfire, picking up the last question. when specs, completely dazed by this new flash of information, looked up with awestruck eyes, the other scout pointed a gleeful finger at the car beside the road. "all you have to do, my boy, is to keep your eyes and ears open. come on; bunny's calling." getting the car out of the mud was neither a long nor a difficult job. all it required was a little knowledge and common sense. the wheels had evidently sunk a few inches at the outset, and their useless whirling had furrowed a nasty rut, made deeper by the use of chains. but when the boys had helped jack up the rear end and filled the holes with branches, against which the chains could bite, and had made a path of the same material to the solid road, the car pulled itself clear without any trouble at all. "well," said the young man, wiping his forehead, "i might have done all that by myself. just the same, i'm much obliged." he drew a purse from his pocket. "how much do i owe you?" the "busted" patrol gasped. it was as if they feared their leader might falter before this temptation. but bunny waved back the bill the young man was offering. "nothing at all," he said. "we are boy scouts, and we are not allowed to take pay for doing good turns." "but if you are going to belden--" specs began insinuatingly. "i'm not," said the young man. "if you are," specs persisted, "or if you could go there, we'd like to be taken along." "well, i'm not," said the young man again, "and i can't." he said it very decisively. "i'm much obliged for your help, but i can't pay for it--that way." he smiled a little derisively, stepped on the self-starter, and shot the car at the long hill down which the boys had just come. "i hope he gets stuck again," snorted specs, looking at the swirl of dust that marked the young man's going. "i hope he breaks a steering knuckle and six spokes, and has nineteen punctures." "no, you don't, either," bunny put in. "you're wrong and he's right. do you realize, specs, that this is the first time in all our trip we have given a wrong impression of the boy scouts? that man thinks we did him a good turn in the hope of a reward; he'll think we always want some kind of pay when we help somebody out. well, we don't; and what's more, we're going to stop making people think we do." in the face of this gentle reproof, specs had nothing to say. when they resumed their hike, he fell in at the rear and seemed to be pondering the matter. opposite the next farmhouse, he drew up to the patrol leader and said, in a nonchalant way. "all right, bunny; i'm cured." then, to prove it, he raced into the yard and pumped a trough full of water for an old lady, and raced out again to the scouts before she had time to thank him. with this minor worry off his mind, bunny faced the greater problem of getting to belden in time for the ball game. "it's a good nine miles yet," he told the others, "and we have less than two hours to make it. at the scout pace, we might possibly cover the distance in time, but it would leave us all played out. i guess we'll have to turn in somewhere and--and find another mr. jenkins." they were in the lowlands now. the road stretched ahead, as far as the eye could reach, between lush fields of corn and wheat and oats. grimly, without talking, the boys plodded on, pressing ahead as steadily as if belden were just around the next corner. but it wasn't, of course, and something had to be done to revive their drooping spirits. at the worst, a halt at some house would serve to break the monotony of the hike. bunny chose a prosperous looking place on the right. the house was big and freshly painted. the barns and granaries were in good repair. up-to-date farm implements nearly filled the yard. everywhere was an air of success. a shaggy shepherd dog ran to meet them, barking uncertainly and wagging its tail, as if divided between a desire to be courteous and yet to serve its master at the same time. bunny called to the animal, and it came close and sniffed at his legs, and was satisfied. he hoped its owner would prove as friendly. but when he knocked at the door, there were no answering footsteps. he knocked again. a third time. convinced at last that they were merely wasting precious time, he turned to the others with a little gesture of disappointment. "there's nobody home," he said. "i can tell you something else," added bonfire. "the man who lives here doesn't own an automobile; there's no garage. and he has only two horse stalls in that big barn, both empty. even if he wanted to help us get to laurel, he couldn't." bunny nodded gloomily. "we might as well hike on." fifty yards down the road, bonfire lifted a pointing hand. "look there!" he shouted. "three cows in that cornfield, gobbling up those little stalks as if they were prairie grass. i don't believe--ah, i thought so! see that gap in the fence on the far side. they have broken in." "and nobody around to chase them out," said specs briskly. "i guess it's a job for us." "what good would it do us?" bunny tested him. "there isn't a soul about to thank us or to give us a lift on our way." specs hung his head. "aw, bunny!" he protested; "forget it, won't you?" and then everybody laughed, as if it were a great joke, and finally specs laughed, too. after that, there was no question about what they meant to do. nine boys climbed through the barbed-wire fence along the road and went whooping toward the astonished trio of cows. tender and juicy as the cornstalks were, the animals realized that their stolen meal must end. they turned and galloped awkwardly through the gap in the fence, back into their own field. "sorry, old girls!" shouted specs, quite himself again, "but you can't eat up a crop just for the sake of one square meal. besides, you'd get an awful, awful tummy-ache." "now let's patch up the break," urged bunny. "we can prop up this broken post and restring these wires. it won't take ten minutes." in something like half that time, the fence was as good as new for all practical purposes. while they were winding the last loose strand about the bolstered post, a voice from the cornfield said pleasantly: "when the boss's away, the cows will play. thank you, boys; thank you!" the minute bunny looked at the man, he knew he was going to like him. he stood just beyond the dividing fence, his lean, brown face crinkling into an irresistible smile. "are those your cows, sir?" bunny asked. "i own them," the man admitted, "and i still own the sprouting corn in this field--thanks to you boys. i came up the road just in time to see what you did for me. but i am curious to learn how you happened to be passing, and why you stopped to save my crop from serious damage. suppose we all adjourn to my house yonder, where we can talk things over. there is a crock of cold milk there, and a jar of cookies and doughnuts. if you will do me the honor--" he broke short the sentence with another of his big, fine smiles, and turned to lead the way. the scouts fell in behind him. over the doughnuts and milk, bunny fell ready victim to the stranger's warming personality; and somehow, without being able to tell exactly how the conversation started, he was revealing the troubles of the black eagle patrol in getting to the baseball game at belden, and explaining the mishaps it had encountered. bonfire's previous assurance that there were no cars or horses on the place made it easier. the man couldn't possibly misunderstand. nor did he. he knew all about boy scouts and good turns without hope of reward, and he nodded and smiled and said, "exactly!" when specs remarked that they knew he hadn't any means of taking them to belden. "and i am afraid," the man added, "there isn't a thing on wheels or four legs in this country that hasn't trundled or trotted to the farmers' institute at middletown this afternoon. that's where my own team went, and i do not own an automobile." he looked quizzically at the boys. "you are ready to admit, i suppose, that you have come to the point in your trip where, if it were a story, the author would write 'the end.' it isn't even 'to be continued.'" "but it is, sir," bunny denied sturdily. "we're going on to belden. i know we can't make it afoot in time now; but even if we reach the ball park during the ninth inning, and even if we get there so tired we can hardly move, we're going to make it. we--we aren't quitters, i guess." "good!" said the man. "i like that spirit. it moves mountains and--hearts." he walked to the window and stared toward a distant field. "then you boys could not help me on the farm this afternoon, i suppose?" "no," bunny confessed reluctantly, "i'm afraid not." "i did not expect you could," the man said, with his understanding smile. "anyhow, my machinery needs overhauling by some expert." the nine boys smiled back. a scout must be cheerful. but it was hard to smile, very hard, with the clock on the wall striking half past one and belden nine miles away. chapter xxiii lost: one baseball team in choice seats of the belden bleachers, opposite first base, sat two men and one girl. anybody with half an eye could see that the girl was in charge of the party. for instance, every time the gathering fans in the stands chorused the staccato belden high school yell, she sprang up, like a cheer leader, with her black eyes snapping, and said: "right back at them now! we'll show them! ready! one--two--three!" and mr. sefton and mr. hibbs and molly sefton roared defiantly: "u rah! u rah! u rah! yi! lakeville! lakeville! lakeville high!" out on the diamond, the belden team practiced in a desultory fashion, keeping one eye on the ball and the other on the gate of the park--which, it may be remarked in passing, was all right so far as the gate was concerned, but not particularly helpful in batting, throwing, or catching. in fact, the nine was displaying a brand of baseball that would have shamed a bunch of kindergartners; and the boys knew it and were consequently irritated. but the fault was not wholly theirs. the trouble was that even at two-thirty with the stands rapidly filling, with the belden team warming up, and with the umpire waiting patiently and pretending not to see or hear anything that was going on (as all good umpires must pretend before they slip on their chest protectors and fill the pockets of their navy-blue serge coats with balls and go out behind the pitcher and raise their right hands and yell, "pla-a-ay ba-a-al!")--with everything and everybody apparently ready for the game that was scheduled to begin half an hour later, the opposing lakeville players had not yet arrived. "but they'll come," declared molly sefton for the hundredth time. "if they don't"--she stamped her foot angrily--"if they don't come, why--why, we'll just go out there and play that belden team ourselves." whereat the portly mr. sefton and the gray-haired mr. hibbs winced perceptibly. "i don't understand it," said the scout master of the black eagle patrol, also for the hundredth time. "the train should have arrived long ago." "nonsense!" snapped mr. sefton, speaking as if it were a lesson he was learning by heart. "it's late, that's all. nothing to worry about. give them time." molly saw the man first. he was shouldering his way up the rows of seats from the ground toward them, and he was doing it with an officiousness that marked him as a person of importance. he wore a black suit, almost ministerial in cut, a stiff white shirt, and a black bow tie of the sort that is put on by tucking two stiff ends underneath the flaps of a turn-down collar. "gentlemen," he said, halting before the two lakeville men and ignoring miss molly altogether, "where is your baseball team?" mr. sefton held him eye to eye. "it's coming," he announced confidently. "are you the belden coach?" horace hibbs asked mildly. "no, gentlemen, i am not the coach. i am, you might say, the man behind the team. throughout the season, i have been its supporter, its mainstay, its benefactor. allow me to offer an illustration of what i mean. do you see that flagstaff?" "yes." "i contributed that. when belden has won this game, i shall run up the pennant with my own hands, and i shall, at the request of my friends, say--ahem, a few words of congratulation to the team and the assembled crowd." "indeed!" remarked mr. sefton, without any great show of enthusiasm. "but i am digressing," the great one stated. "i came here to warn you gentlemen that if, on the stroke of three o'clock, the lakeville team is still missing, i shall instruct the umpire to forfeit the game by the usual score of nine to nothing. immediately, i shall award the pennant to belden and begin--ahem, my speech. i thank you, gentlemen." "for what?" gasped mr. sefton, watching the man push his way to the bottom of the stand. "look here, horace, they can't do that, can they?" mr. hibbs shook a worried head. "i don't know," he confessed. "in golf or tennis, of course, if a player does not report, he forfeits his contest. and there is a baseball rule to the effect that if a team refuses to play--" a boy stalked along the ground at the foot of the bleachers. he was waving a paper and shouting: "horace hibbs! message for horace hibbs! horace hibbs! message for--" "up here, boy!" molly sprang to her feet, waving wildly. "right up here!--let him pass, _please_! thank _you_!--this is mr. hibbs--quick! what is it?" with nervous haste, horace hibbs unfolded the paper. the message was scrawled in a free, running hand, with several erasures, as if it had been taken over a telephone. he read it to the other two: tell horace hibbs, belden high school baseball park, that lakeville team has been delayed by bad freight wreck on railroad ahead. may be very late in arriving. hold game.--leland. "oh!" gasped molly. it was as if somebody had struck her a stinging blow on the cheek. she felt the pain, the mental despair, and then, as the numbness passed, a tingling anger and unreasoning spleen against the world in general. "oh!" she said again, crimsoning. "they are in trouble. it isn't fair. why don't you men do something? dad, how can you sit quietly when the boys need help?" mr. sefton took the message from horace hibbs and smoothed it upon his knee. "h'm! no time mentioned; no name of the place where they are stranded. but they will know at the belden station. i will get in touch with the team by telephone; then we will see what can be done." and with a final admonition not to worry, he was gone. with troubled eyes, molly sefton and horace hibbs followed his course across the park. once, near the ball players on the diamond, he seemed to hesitate, as if to offer them some explanation; then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he marched on without stopping. again, near home plate, he turned his head at the call of the pompous man who meant to award the pennant to belden. even from where they sat, the girl and the scout master could see mr. sefton smile and nod confidently. he believed the lakeville team would yet arrive safely, and he meant to make the important person believe it, too. "good old dad!" beamed molly. she squirmed sideways on her seat. "talk to me, horace hibbs. tell me the team will come. tell me it will be here in time. it must, you know; it just must!" "of course," said horace hibbs simply, "it will come." there was something so earnest in the boyish way he said it, and in the plausible reasons he gave later for expecting the missing team, that molly felt her courage warming again. the twin worried lines from the top of her nose to the middle of her forehead ironed out; the corners of her mouth quirked into the forerunner of an honest smile. in the meantime, though, the minutes had been ticking away. it was a quarter of three now. up and down the stands, impatient fans, who could not understand why the lakeville nine did not take the field for practice, were shuffling their feet uneasily, and calling, "play ball! play ball!" the messenger came a second time. he knew now where to find horace hibbs, and he was holding out the scribbled paper before either molly or the scout master saw him. it read: we are leaving to walk around wreck to elkana, where conductor tells us they may start another train for belden, to take place of one held up by blocked track.--leland. "wait!" molly called to the boy as he was turning away. "where did you get this?" "long-distance telephone to the grand-stand over there." molly dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "then dad won't know where to reach the team," she said, puckering her mouth as she thought rapidly. "you must find him here at the station, horace hibbs, and tell him to call up elkana. run along. don't waste a minute. if they are really coming, i will keep this game from starting till they get here." obediently, the man rose. whatever doubts he may have entertained as to her ability to handle the situation at the ball park vanished before the determination expressed by her pursed lips and clenched fists. she was competent, horace told himself; yes, as competent as any scout in the black eagle patrol. with both her father and horace hibbs gone, molly realized that she was now the single lakeville representative in all that crowd. the thought sent little prickles down her rigid back, and she caught herself plucking nervously at her skirt. the discovery wounded her pride. "now, molly sefton," she admonished herself severely, clasping the errant hands in her lap, "don't be a good-for-nothing, sniveling little coward!" more time passed. more fans stamped their feet and yelled, "play ball!" the important person who was going to have the umpire forfeit the game strutted to the bottom of the rows of seats. there, watch in hand, he looked up near-sightedly, without discovering that two thirds of his former audience had disappeared, and said, in a voice like fate, "five minutes more, gentlemen; five minutes!" molly was having a good deal of trouble keeping herself in leash. she wavered between a desire to shriek at the top of her voice and another to get out the little lace-fringed handkerchief aunt ella had given her, and have a good cry. it took courage to fight back both temptations. instead, she plucked at the sleeve of the high-school boy at her side. "will you do me a favor, _please_?" the high-school boy would. "run down there to the diamond, then," molly commanded, "and ask the captain of the belden team to come here a minute, _please_!" she liked the boy in uniform who responded to her call. he had round blue eyes, lots of freckles, and a smile that came without coaxing. it was easy to tell him the troubles lakeville's team was encountering. "so they are coming, you understand," she finished breathlessly. "if you will just hold the game a few minutes, till they get here--" "why sure!" the boy fumbled with his cap and spoke awkwardly, but there was no doubting his sincerity. "we meant to postpone the start till your team came, of course." "but that--that man--" molly halted until she had spied the important person and pointed him out to the belden captain. "that man said he would tell the umpire to forfeit the game at three o'clock if our boys weren't here." "so he could make a speech, huh?" the boy's smile revealed two rows of gleaming white teeth. "that's old senator cannon, who used to be in the state legislature; he'd rather make a speech, i guess, than eat. regular talking machine, that man. but he isn't running our ball team. why, he wanted to award the pennant last week, after we licked elkana--so's he could make a speech, you see." "the idea!" sniffed miss sefton in her most grown-up manner. "but we fellows voted 'no' on his little scheme. said we had lakeville to trim for a clear title to the state championship. that's why we are so keen to play to-day, even if we start a bit late. you know, it's this afternoon or never, because school ended yesterday, and we can't very well postpone the game." "oh, you won't have to worry that way," molly assured the belden captain. "our team is surely coming. it--it--" she faltered at sight of the messenger, on his third trip that day. some inkling of impending disaster gripped her. before she spoke again, she moistened her lips. "well, what is it now?" "message for horace hibbs." molly reached for the paper. she had meant to ask for it, but the words would not come. all at once, she was afraid of what those scrawled words might reveal. the belden captain watched her curiously. but she was no coward. she would prove that much. so, calling upon every ounce of her will power to steady her fingers, she calmly unfolded the paper and read the message. there was not even the flicker of an eyebrow to suggest its import. when she had deciphered the final blur that stood for "leland", she looked up at the boy. "i am sorry," she said in a low, hurt voice, "but i am afraid we can't play the game, after all. the team is--is not coming." for the message read: tell horace hibbs, baseball park, that no train will leave elkana for belden before night. too far and too late to use automobile. we are getting ready to start back home.--leland. if the belden boy spoke to her, molly did not hear him. for a time, indeed, the measured _pound-pound-pound_ of her heart tolled so loudly that it deafened her to all else. not till her quickening ears counted the three strokes of some belled clock in town did she become conscious of the babel about her. it was time for the game to begin. to the rhythm of thousands of stamping feet, the fans were dinning, "start the game! start the game!" off down the road, outside the park, a muffled roar grew and doubled in volume, like distant thunder coming closer and closer. it rumbled to the very gate; it died to a faint putter. as the great swinging doors flung wide, it belched forth once more, nerve-racking, ear-rending. then molly gasped and stared. into the ball park rolled the queerest contrivance she had ever seen--a great engine, running on broad, endless belts instead of wheels, and towing behind it a half-loaded hayrack. "it's a farm tractor!" said a startled voice below her. "it's the lakeville baseball team!" screamed molly watching bunny payton and bi jones jump from the hayrack, with at least seven other boys ready to spill over the sides. she experienced a sudden absurd pity for the man who wanted to forfeit the game, that he might make a speech, and for the blue-eyed, freckled belden captain who was about to lead his team to defeat, and for all those fans who counted confidently on a belden victory. they were very still now, very apprehensive. in a little while, she guessed, they would be sorry the lakeville nine had ever come. she laughed hysterically and sprang to her feet. with a lakeville high banner streaming in the wind, she shrieked at the top of her voice: "play ball!" chapter xxiv molly insists as he leaped from the hayrack, bunny glanced apprehensively toward the diamond. it was a little after three, he knew, and he was afraid the game had already begun. even with the substitutes, lakeville might be holding her own; but he guessed shrewdly that buck and barrett and sheffield and the others would be pretty glad to see the remaining members of the regular nine. but something was clearly wrong. the belden players were batting and fielding fungoes and grounders, with not a single lakeville fellow in sight. even the lakeville bench was empty. and now, for the first time, he became aware that no spontaneous cheer had greeted the arrival of the scouts. the scattering applause had come from the belden fans; it was no more than polite interest in their appearance at this eleventh hour. yes, something was decidedly wrong. the patter of running feet and the flutter of swishing skirts spun him around as abruptly as if some drillmaster had commanded, "about face!" "hello, molly!" he said to the flushed girl who stood before him. "where are the other players?" "they aren't coming," cried molly sefton breathlessly. "a wreck blocked the track. and, oh, bunny, they want to forfeit the game, and a mean old man is going to make a speech and award the pennant to belden, and they can't postpone it till some other day because it's the end of the season, and everybody thinks you are afraid to play for the championship--afraid, bunny! but you aren't, are you? and there are nine of you boys here now, and--" bunny stopped her with a bewildered gesture. "just a moment, molly. let's understand all this." and he began to ply her with questions, till the whole story was told. at its end, he nodded dubiously. "and now you're here, at last," the girl said triumphantly, as if their presence righted the universe. "yes, we 're here," bunny admitted. "an hour or so ago, we didn't think there was a chance of making it, either. you see, we were talking to a farmer who didn't own an automobile and whose horses were all out. he said that he didn't belong to any patrol, so far as he knew, but that he guessed he must be a boy scout at heart, because he tried to live up to all the laws of the organization. and then, all at once, he remembered something, and slapped his knee, and said, 'boys, i haven't done my good turn to-day, and i've just thought of a way. my farm tractor needs overhauling by the agency in belden. i'll hitch it up to a hayrack and haul you all there.' so he did." "wasn't that splendid!" said molly, clapping her hands. "and just think, there are exactly nine of you boys--enough for a baseball team!" "nine of us, yes," agreed bunny, "but only three of the regular lakeville team, not counting bi and myself, who are pitchers. too many substitutes, molly. still--" he paused doubtfully. "play them!" urged the girl. "beat them! i just know you can do it--you scouts!" bunny considered. "i might use bi behind the bat," he said, weakening, "and i could pitch. with roundy and jump and specs and--and s. s., we would have a fairly good infield. nap might do for center field, too." he felt this was stretching the facts a bit, but he couldn't very well say nap was merely better than nobody. "only--well, at the start of the season, there were just two fellows in school who didn't try for the team--bonfire cree and prissy prissler. i'd have to play them in right and left fields." "but bonfire can bat," molly declared loyally. "don't you remember that home run he knocked the first day of school?" "it was an accident; he says so himself. you saw him fan on three straight balls at your picnic afterward." "he can bat," molly insisted stubbornly. "i just know he can, if he really has to. and prissler will do his best to help you win. besides, bunny, there's that mean old man who wants to give belden the pennant, and all those fans who will think you are afraid to play." bunny smiled at her. she was only a girl, of course, and she could not be expected to understand the difficulties such a patched-up team must encounter. but she believed in the scouts; she had faith in them. after all, however the game might go, they could not afford to sacrifice molly's friendship. and they might--just _might_--win! "we'll play," he told her quietly. "now, where's the belden captain? i wonder if he will allow us to practice for a few minutes." the blue-eyed, freckle-faced leader of the home team came quickly at molly's call. "how are you, payton?" he said, shaking hands with the lakeville captain. "practice? sure; as long as you like. got any uniforms or bats or gloves or balls? h'm! we can fix you up on everything except uniforms, but--" "never mind them," bunny interrupted. "we've walked and ridden forty miles or so in these clothes we're wearing, and i guess we can play baseball in them. hi, fellows!" the practice was disquieting. the infield might have been reasonably air-tight except for the leak at third base. on that difficult corner of the diamond, substitute s. s. zane speedily proved that stopping sizzling grounders demanded more skill than he possessed. out in the field, substitute nap meeker missed and snared flies for an average of about . , substitute bonfire cree eventually managed to catch one soaring fungo hit, and substitute prissy prissler divided his busy moments between muffing every ball that touched his hands and misjudging all the rest. the fans jeered openly. on the bench, the watchful belden players tried honestly to hide the pleased grins that kept curling their mouths. their blue-eyed, freckle-faced captain strode out to where bunny was warming up by pitching to bi. "if your team needs more time for practice," he offered generously, "don't be afraid to ask for it." bunny plumped a singing inshoot into bi's big pad before he answered. "thank you," he said. "we are ready to start the game any time now." he watched a black-garbed man walk past, muttering to himself as if he were rehearsing some speech. "and don't be too sure," he flung over his shoulder at the belden captain, "that you are going to win that championship, either. you have to beat us first." chapter xxv substitutes' day a gong clanged. the umpire brushed off home plate with his little whisk broom. when he turned to face the stands, the fans stilled expectantly. "ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "the batteries for to-day's game are: for lakeville, payton and jones; for belden, bonner and clark." _substitute no. _ out in center field, nap meeker looked up at the blue sky and said, very solemnly, "this is my lucky day." more than one hundred years before, history has it, the little corsican for whom nap was nicknamed went forth to battle with these same words on his lips. to both boy and soldier, perhaps, they marked the summoning of courage for what was to come. for nap dreaded the impending game. he had little skill as a player, and none knew it better than himself. this afternoon, for example, he would much have preferred to bury his nose in some unread biography of napoleon, and live for an hour or more in those stirring times when ambition and accomplishment vaulted straight to a throne. but he had accepted the challenge to play. as a boy scout, he could do no less. loyalty to his leader, to the team, and to the school, were in his mind as inflexible as must have been the loyalty of napoleon's soldiers to their leader in those other days. nor was that the limit of nap's resolution. if he were to play at all, he must actually help to make victory possible. he must offset his lack of technical skill with strategy. he must out-guess, out-plan, out-general the opposing team. for hadn't his hero once said that most battles were won in the council room, before a shot was fired? as a result of the toss, which bunny had won, belden batted first. nap shuffled about nervously as the lakeville captain took his three practice pitches and bi shot the last ball to jump, on second, who swooped low to tag an imaginary runner. then the umpire lifted his hand. "play ball!" he said; and the game was on. it was hard for nap to remain inactive during the first half of that initial inning. he wished he were a star pitcher, like bunny, with the balance of each play hinging upon his delivery; failing that, he even found himself hoping a fly ball might come sailing to him. but nothing happened to test his mettle. the first belden batter fanned on three pitched balls; the second fouled to bi, who calmly slipped off his mask and smothered the little pop-up without moving from his tracks; the third grounded out to roundy, who made the play unassisted. then nap trotted in from the field, only to watch specs, jump and bunny retired in one-two-three order. he trotted back to center field again. in a way, he began to understand what napoleon meant when, with the war raging elsewhere, he chafed in the city and said, "paris weighs on me like a leaden mantle." but in the second inning, opportunity beckoned to nap. a belden batter shot a stinging grass-clipper straight at s. s., and that youth allowed it to trickle between his legs. the next batter flied over second. with the cry, "let me have it!" nap came charging in for the catch. it was not a difficult ball to handle. jump might have backed under it easily. but jump's play just then, with a runner on first, was to guard the keystone sack. all this nap sensed in an instant; all this--and something more. the batter was merely trotting toward first. he had no hope of an error; he could already see the play reported, "flied out to center field." but nap, racing toward the falling ball, was fairly quivering with the hope of a strategy that filled his heart to bursting. he was under the fly now. he lifted his hands for the catch, stealing a final glance to assure himself that the batter was still only half way to first; then, abruptly, he took one backward step, allowed the ball to hit the ground, caught it as it bounced, and shot it unerringly to jump. there was no need of shouting a warning to jump. he was baseball wise. he knew what to do. plumping one foot on the bag, and thus forcing the runner who had been on first, he whipped the ball to roundy for the second put-out, before the astonished batter could galvanize his legs enough to beat the throw. nap had out-witted batter and runner. there were now two out, with nobody on base. all the scouts cheered. bunny shouted some unintelligible word of thanks and congratulation, accompanied by a broad grin. stalking back to his position in deep center field, nap said softly to himself, "i'm glad i did it if it pleases him." perhaps this was some hazy recollection of napoleon's message to josephine. "i prize victory," he had written, "since it pleases you." the last belden batter that inning swung at three wide balls without ticking a foul. for lakeville, the last half of the second began well. bi laced a clean single over short. roundy laid down a perfect bunt, and beat out the throw to first. s. s. walked on four balls. and it was in this tense situation, bases full and nobody out, that nap came to bat for the first time. just at that moment, he would have given a million dollars for the skill to lash out a long hit. but he knew, deep down in his heart, that he could never do it. agonizing recollections of his usual attempts, resulting in feeble grounders to some waiting fielder, seared his mind. already he could foresee the havoc he might create. in all probability, he would bat into a double or even a triple play, that would wipe clean the bases, like some remorseless scythe. his hands slipped up on the handle of the bat. bonner, the belden pitcher, wound up and threw. before nap's worried eyes, a little swish of white catapulted over the plate. the umpire jerked a thumb over his right shoulder. "strike one!" he said. and nap had barely seen that ball. no, he could never hit it out. bonner pitched again. it was a ball this time, purposely wide of the plate--a coaxer. nap stood like a statue. "ball one!" a third time the pitcher wound up and threw. a third time nap did not offer at the ball. "strike two!" on the bases, the runners took swift leads with each lift of the pitcher's arm, scurrying back like scared rats as the ball thudded into the catcher's glove. they were curiously silent. nobody shouted for him to hit it; each of the three, nap knew, was afraid he would. like him, they feared a double or triple play might result. after all, if he stood there and allowed the third strike to be called, it would be better than forcing some runner. he shook himself angrily. how far would napoleon have gone if he had chosen to wait impotently? his first rule of warfare was, "time is everything." at the thought, nap gripped the bat more firmly, edging closer to the plate. and then, quite accidentally, he caught the signal that passed from runner to runner--the quick lifting of a finger that meant "steal!" almost before he could realize that bunny and the rest had conceded his inability to help in this crisis, and had determined on the desperate expedient of a triple steal, the belden pitcher was preparing for his last delivery. nap watched the wind-up with set, fascinated eyes. it was like a snake coiling to strike. before the circling arm had completed its queer gyrations, each runner was in action. nap saw the pitcher's smile freeze suddenly. like a gun discharged at half-cock, the ball leaped from his hand and came whistling toward the batter. in that tick of a second before it reached the plate, nap found himself. he could not swing and hit it. to try that would be utterly futile. moreover, bi could never reach home before the catcher had clamped the ball on him. but there was one thing nap could do. gripping his bat loosely, he held it stiffly before him, squarely in the path of the pitch. ball sogged against wood and bounced back into the diamond. at the sound of the impact, nap raced for first. not till he had reached the base safely, and run beyond it and turned to the right to come back, did he know what had happened. the little bunt had proved so totally unexpected that the belden players were caught flat-footed. bi scored. the pitcher, scooping up the ball, shot it toward third, in an attempt to catch bunny. it was a bad throw, low and to one side, and the guardian of that sack did well to cuff it as it passed, checking its momentum enough to stop it a dozen feet beyond the base line. without hesitating, bunny followed bi to the plate, scoring on his very heels. s. s. quick to take advantage of the break of luck, scampered to third. the runs were over, and there were still two on bases, with nobody out. but here, unfortunately, lakeville reached the hopeless end of its batting list. bonfire popped up an easy foul. prissler--well, prissler fanned ignominiously, just as everybody expected he would. prissler was no ball player. and specs' best was a liner straight to the shortstop. in spite of these minor mishaps, nap sauntered out to center field with a song on his lips. twice in that one inning, by tactics comparable to napoleon's best strategy, he had helped the team. what was it the little corsican had said after recapturing italy? "a few more events"--yes, that was it--"a few more events like this campaign, and i shall perhaps go down to posterity." nap crimsoned guilty at the inference; just the same, his chin shot out pugnaciously. give him another chance, and he would wind up this ball game "with a clap of thunder." but with that one big inning ended nap's opportunities. not another ball was batted to center field; not once, in the innings that followed, was nap on base. it was hard to remain inactive, like--like being weighed down by a leaden mantle; but the memory of the trapped ball and the squeeze play was quite enough to warrant his remarking occasionally to himself, "this is my lucky day." the score: ============================================== innings | | | | | | | | | ----------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+--- belden | | | | | | | | | lakeville | | | | | | | | | ============================================== _substitute no. _ s. s. zane wanted to help win that game. in the last half of the third inning, when jump dumped a texas-leaguer into the outfield and perched proudly on first, s. s. ran out to the coaching line. "take a lead!" he called shrilly. "down with his arm, ol' boy! watch him! watch him!--_slide!_--nice work! he'll throw it away yet. he's no pitcher! see, he's scared green! make him pitch, mr. umpire! cowardy-calf! i tell you, jump, he's got a yellow streak! he--" "s. s.!" it was bunny's crisp voice. the coacher turned. at the crooking of his captain's finger, he walked back to the bench. "what's the matter?" "you are supposed to be coaching the runner," bunny told him quietly. "that doesn't mean jeering at the pitcher. we don't play that kind of game." s. s. hung his head. "i--i'm sorry, bunny. i wasn't trying to rattle him. i just forgot what i was saying, i guess." there the incident ended. bunny went out to the coaching box himself, and devoted his attention wholly to jump. back on the bench, s. s. swallowed hard. "i didn't mean anything," he told himself gloomily. "but bunny's right, of course. coaching that way isn't good sportsmanship." he eyed the belden pitcher. "wonder how i can make it up to bonner." the opportunity came in the very next inning. lakeville failed to score in the third, and the belden team came piling in for the first of the fourth. it began disastrously for lakeville. there was a patter of hits and an appalling total of errors. the first batter shot a stinging liner just inside third, which eluded s. s. altogether. the next flied to short right field, and prissler lost the ball in the sun. then bonfire allowed a grounder to escape between his legs. jump bobbled an easy chance. roundy dropped a perfect throw. specs sailed a ball ten feet over first on an attempted put-out. before lakeville could settle down to the grim business of retiring the side, three runs were over the plate, and the bases were still full. when bunny fanned the next two batters, s. s. was elated, but not particularly surprised. he knew his captain was at his best in a pinch, and he said as much to the belden runner on third, who happened to be bonner, the opposing pitcher. if this were a diplomatic effort to make friends with bonner by starting a conversation, it failed dismally. the boy merely nodded, without saying anything at all, and immediately proceeded to edge his way off the base toward home. s. s. covered his embarrassment by slapping his bare hand into the palm of his glove. what happened next was wholly unplanned. there was no guile in the heart of the neatest scout of the black eagle patrol. when he saw that the belden pitcher's shoestring was loose and dangling, he called attention to it in the most matter-of-fact, good-turn way in the world; and when bonner glanced down, standing a few feet off third base, and bunny suddenly snapped the ball to s. s., the latter caught it mechanically and tagged the runner before he could scramble back to safety, solely and simply because baseball instinct told him that was the thing to do. but it was the third out. it nipped a promising rally. and it had all the earmarks of a carefully planned trick. bonner looked at s. s. just once, with such scorn in his steel-blue eyes that s. s. wished with all his heart the earth might open up then and there and swallow him from sight. but he did not abandon his ambition. sooner or later, he would prove to that fellow that he could play real ball, and that he was not the kind who resorted to questionable tactics to win a point. the last half of the fourth inning was uneventful. only three lakeville batters faced the pitcher--nap, bonfire, and prissler; and, as s. s. confided to bi, nobody could expect them to do anything. they justified his expectations in every way by fanning unanimously. belden threatened again in the fifth inning. with runners on second and first, and one out, the lakeville infield played close, to shut off a run at home. as luck would have it, the batter lashed a stinging grounder toward s. s. it was a hard hit ball, that even sheffield, lakeville's regular third baseman, would have done well to knock down, much less to field cleanly for an out. s. s. missed it altogether. under the circumstances, this was a pardonable error. but his sudden leap, backward and to one side, which threatened a collision with the belden runner coming from second, made the play look bad. the runner halted instinctively for a fatal moment. s. s., now between him and the plate, lunged awkwardly for the ball, without getting his hands anywhere near it, and it shot between his legs against the belden boy. "out!" boomed the umpire; "hit by batted ball." the belden coacher on third clucked, just clucked. he did not say a single word. but when s. s. identified him as bonner, whom he had already twice offended, he realized what the boy was thinking. and it was ridiculously wrong! s. s. had not missed the grounder deliberately; he had tried with all his scant skill to get his hands on the ball. what was the use, anyhow? s. s. did not bat in the last half of the fifth, which proved a quick inning. there was a caught fly, a screaming single that kindled hope, and a fast double play that snuffed it as abruptly as it had flamed. then belden came to bat again. bunny disposed of the first two batters by forcing them to hit weak flies to the infield, but the third lined far out to right, and pulled up at third before prissler retrieved the ball. playing deep for the next batter, s. s. saw the belden captain stroll up to the plate, grinning cheerfully. he hoped with all his heart that bunny would fan him; if he did, s. s. resolved to take revenge for bonner's implied insults by making some casual remark about the way not to hit 'em out. he was beginning to hate that complacent, smiling youngster. as s. s. waited for bunny to pitch, his keen eyes, trained to observe by scoutcraft, detected something that made him chuckle outright. the bat which bonner was waving belligerently over the plate was the same one bunny had used in the preceding inning, when he hit into a double play. at the time, s. s. had marveled at the weak grounder his usually reliable captain dribbled to the shortstop's waiting hands, and he had found the answer in the broken bat, which had cracked in its impact against the ball. and now, blissfully ignorant of the defect, mister blue eyes expected to drive in a run with that decrepit bit of ash. why, he couldn't hit it out of the diamond in a thousand years! bunny pitched a ball just wide of the plate. the batter eyed it without swinging. s. s. chuckled again. but suddenly, without any reason at all, the gurgle died in his throat. something stronger than his own desire seemed to yank him out of himself, and words that came quite without bidding formed on his lips and were spoken. "hi, bonner!" they said to the boy at the plate. "that bat's busted." the belden captain lifted a wary head. he was clearly suspicious of some fresh trick, and he never took his eyes off bunny. s. s. guessed he expected a strike might be sneaked over if he turned away. but when bunny waited politely, the boy banged the end of the bat against the plate. it rang hollowly, and he promptly discarded it for another. in another minute, when s. s. saw the grounder come zipping toward him, he wondered why on earth he had warned the batter. this hit ball was going to be hard to handle. but he set himself, with legs close together this time, and waited for it to reach him. he even had time to judge its speed, and to follow its course through grass and dust, and to decide that he could get the runner at home. he glowed with confidence. just at the last, though, the ball hit a pebble and bounced high over his head. with a frantic upward fling of his gloved hand, s. s. speared it neatly. but the unbraced feet and the chug of the ball were too much for his balance. he toppled over backward, and sat down with a pronounced thump. it was clearly too late to throw across the diamond to first. if the play were to be made at all, it must be at home; and s. s. realized in a flash that by the time he came to his feet and threw, the runner would have scored. there was just one thing to do, and he did it. still sitting awkwardly on the ground, he drew back his arm and shot the ball with all his might to the waiting bi. the runner slid. but good, old reliable bi jones, straddling the plate, took the perfect throw and clamped the ball on him a long ways from the rubber--oh, a good three or four inches, s. s. decided. he nodded at the umpire's decision. the fellow was out, of course; s. s. knew it all the time. coming in to the bench, he passed bonner, who was grinning a little wryly. "thanks," the belden captain said to s. s. "for what?" snapped zane, quickly on the defensive. "why, for telling me the bat was broken. i liked that. you didn't suppose i was thanking you for throwing out clark at home, did you? that was a dandy play, let me tell you, even if it was against us; yes, sir, as pretty a stop and throw as i ever saw." s. s.'s face glowed like a full moon. "oh, it wasn't much," he said carelessly. but it was. he knew it was. so was the warning about the bat. he had helped save the game, and he had proved to the doubting bonner that he was a good sportsman. he liked that laughing, blue-eyed, freckle-faced boy; he wished he would move to lakeville. the score: ============================================== innings | | | | | | | | | ----------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+--- belden | | | | | | | | | lakeville | | | | | | | | | ============================================== _substitute no. _ prissler, at the tail-end of the batting list, had already struck out twice, and he expected to do it again when he faced the belden pitcher in the last half of the sixth inning. instead, he walked on four balls. somehow, it did not seem quite fair. he had done nothing to deserve the honor of being a base runner, and he felt a little sorry that the rules permitted him to profit by the pitcher's wildness. he was on first, precisely as he would have been after hitting safely. yet he had made no hit; had not the skill, indeed, to make one. in some unaccountable manner, he had gained an advantage he did not deserve. prissler had batted first in that inning. specs, up next, flied out. jump fanned. there were now two out, with bunny at bat. after allowing the first pitched ball to sing past without offering at it, bunny met the second squarely. at the crack of the bat, prissler dashed for second. "it's a homer!" shrieked specs excitedly. he was coaching off third. "come on, prissy! come on!" both the shortstop and the second baseman were facing the outfield, watching the soaring ball. prissler touched the bag and wheeled toward third. at that corner of the diamond, specs was executing a war-dance, with wildly swinging arms. "go on in, prissy!" he yelled, waving him toward home. "come on, bunny! come on!" prissler crossed the plate standing up. bunny, close behind, flung himself toward the white rubber in a headlong slide. it was nip and tuck between ball and runner, but the latter beat the throw by inches. "--safe!" came the tag of the umpire's decision. at the word, prissler experienced an irresistible desire to turn a somersault; and did it, moreover, to the profound amazement of the lakeville team, which had never seen him so undignified before. but it was excusable. not only had the lakeville boys tied the score, but they were now leading by one run. after the decision, the belden catcher straightened up, with the ball resting in his big glove. he wrapped the fingers of his right hand about it, and drew back his arm for the throw to his pitcher. then, as if changing his mind, he shot it to the third baseman, who caught it and stamped a decisive foot upon the sack. the umpire shook his head. prissler, watching the pantomime, wrinkled his brow. he wondered what it all meant. "but i tell you he didn't," the third baseman said angrily. "that first runner didn't touch the bag at all. he cut across 'way out there." again the umpire shook his head. now prissler began to understand. they were claiming he had failed to touch third before starting for home. he tried to remember. he had been running from second, toward specs, who had waved him to keep on. he had answered the signal by turning in the direction of the plate and-- "he is right," prissler told the umpire suddenly. "i _did_ cut across the corner of the diamond without touching third." he could not understand the stunned silence that followed. specs' jaw dropped in consternation. one of the other fellows coughed unnaturally. in the eyes of the two or three belden players within hearing grew a queer light of grudging admiration. with an effort, the umpire found his voice. "runner is out at third," he ruled. so, after all, the two runs did not count. technically, bunny's long hit could be scored as only a two-bagger, although he had circled the bases before the ball could be relayed home. moreover, the inning was over. the seventh began badly. perhaps bunny was still winded; perhaps the disappointment kept him from pitching his best. whatever the reason, the first two batters hit safely, the third advanced them with a neat sacrifice bunt, and only jump's bare-handed catch of a liner prevented immediate scoring. then, in his eagerness to keep the ball out of the groove, bunny walked another, filling the bases, with two out. in right field, prissler stooped nervously and plucked a blade of grass. without quite understanding why, he felt he was indirectly to blame for the threatening situation. it dated back to that play at third, upon which the umpire had reversed his decision. "but i was out fairly," prissler told himself wonderingly, kicking at a tuft of roots. "i couldn't say anything else, could i?" he looked up just in time to see the belden batter swing viciously against a pitched ball. it was a low fly, and it lifted straight toward right field. in his first flurry of indecision, prissler stood stock-still, thereby proving himself a poor fielder. any expert player would have been upon his toes and away before the crash of meeting bat and ball had dwindled to an echo; for it was obvious that the fly must fall in short right field, just beyond reach of the second baseman. but prissler's tardy recognition of this fact was only momentary. in another instant, he was in action, racing with all his might toward the falling ball, and noting, out of the corner of his eye, that the belden runners were circling the bases like some human merry-go-round. if he missed the catch, at least three runs would score. but it looked impossible. the ball was falling like a plummet, well out of reach of his extended hands. he pumped his legs desperately. bunny might have made it in time, or specs, or some of those other fellows who had the knack of sprinting. he was afraid he couldn't. with only a tantalizing step or two to cover, prissler saw that the ball was nearly level with his eyes. he threw himself forward, in a very frenzy of determination. he felt himself falling. but he never took his eyes from that white comet. as he plunged to the earth, in a great welter of dust, his hands thrust forth spasmodically. something drove hard against his glove, slapping it to the ground. instinctively, his left hand leaped to cover the precious ball. a shoulder hit wrenchingly, toppling him over in a curious tumble, from which he recovered with astonishing agility, coming to his feet like some jack-in-the-box, and trotting on into the diamond, with the ball held proudly aloft. instantly, there grew a confusion of shouts. "he didn't catch it!" "trapped it; that's what he did!" "no, he didn't, either!" "certainly, he did!" prissler smiled. he knew. he looked at the umpire for confirmation. but the official was standing there motionless, with a questioning expression on his face that said, as plainly as words, "i don't know whether the ball was trapped or caught." prissler seemed to go cold all over. but the umpire was a very wise man. he looked the boy straight in the eyes. "did you catch it?" he asked. "yes, sir," said prissler, "i did. i caught it fair and square." "batter is out!" declared the umpire, with just a hint of defiance in his voice. he expected a volley of protest. the belden third baseman looked at the belden catcher, and they both looked at their blue-eyed, freckle-faced captain. each one remembered the other play in which prissler had figured. to their credit, be it said all three smiled bravely in the face of their bitter disappointment. "if he says he caught it," the belden captain nodded soberly, "we know he did." the catcher and the third baseman agreed. not a single belden player questioned the evidence. this decision, when you come to think it over, was about as splendid a tribute to the honesty of a player as baseball history records. but prissler saw nothing remarkable about it. he had caught the ball, and it was no more than fair that the batter should be called out. what pleased him most was the fact that the runs which had crowded over the plate did not count. the score: ============================================== innings | | | | | | | | | ----------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+--- belden | | | | | | | | | lakeville | | | | | | | | | ============================================== _substitute no. _ long before the spectacular ninth inning, you might have thought bonfire cree had done his share. to him bunny was indebted for many pitching hints: this belden batter could not hit a ball around his knees; this one was dazed by speed; this one crowded the plate and must be driven back by in-curves; this one swung awkwardly at shoulder-high pitches. moreover, he had solved a certain sequence of deliveries by the belden twirler. perhaps bonner himself was unconscious of any order in his pitches, but he began always with a coaxer, a little wide of the plate, following it with a straight, fast ball, squarely in the groove, and then with either an out or an in curve. quite naturally, this knowledge gave the batter an advantage. all this aided greatly; but still bonfire was not satisfied. he might have observed and tabulated these facts from the bench. they had nothing to do with his own playing; and through eight long innings, he had failed to distinguish himself at bat or in the field. just before the ninth inning began, with the score still - in belden's favor, he turned to bunny. "i am like a coach who never made the team," he said, smiling a little wistfully. "i tell the others what to do and how to do it; but i can't seem to use the information for my own good." "never mind," consoled bunny. "you've helped as much as the best player on the team. it looks bad now, i'll admit, but maybe we can stage a rally in the last of the ninth." now, accidents will happen with the best of regulated batters. after bunny had fanned the boy who could not hit a ball around his knees by feeding him nothing else, and added a second strike-out to his credit by scorching three sizzling pitches to the one who was not on batting terms with speed, the next fellow, who crowded the plate, upset all precedent by taking one backward step and meeting an inshoot flush on the nose. the minute the ball was hit, bonfire groaned. "that's good for three bases," he said positively, without even turning to watch its flight over right field. prissler chased dutifully after the ball, but it was far over his head. the best fielder in the world could never have reached it in time, and prissler laid no claims to that title. before he could pick it up, after it had rolled nearly to the fence, and line it to jump, via a relay to s. s., the runner was squatting comfortably on third. "well! well!" shouted some belden fan who thought he was funny. "there goes your old ball game. look who's up now--'home-run' hogan!" the batter was squat and broad of shoulder. already he was credited with three hits in this game, and bonfire had confessed to bunny that he seemed to have no weakness. "you just pitch to him," he had laughed, "and then throw up your hands to keep from getting hit by what he slams back at you." bunny measured this dangerous opponent a long time before he pitched. but when he finally shot over the first delivery, it was a clean strike. out in left field, bonfire nodded approvingly. "no use to pass him," he agreed. "that belden captain, bonner, who is up next, is nearly as dangerous. no, the play is to make hogan hit to save fielder." aloud he called, "get him, bunny!" hogan watched disdainfully as the second pitch zipped past, wide of the plate. you couldn't fool that fellow. but the third, waist-high, straight over, was exactly to his liking. with a hunch of his powerful shoulders, he swung his mighty bludgeon of a bat hard against the ball. it was a fly to left field, as long as the one that had baffled prissler a moment before, but much higher. at the crack of the bat, bonfire wheeled abruptly and began to run, picking a little tuft of grass, yards and yards away, as the target toward which the ball was speeding. head down, arms chugging, he ran as he had never run before. even so, his hope of smothering the fly seemed utterly forlorn. in the first place, he was not a great sprinter; he probably could not reach it in time. but granting that his legs carried him over the ground fast enough, he had not gauged the course of the ball with his eyes; he could never hope to turn at the last instant, and find the falling ball in his very path. the belden fans jeered his amateurish efforts, and shouted encouragement to the circling hogan. as he lifted a foot to plump it down on the little tuft of grass, bonfire jerked his head around and flung up his hands. into them, as accurately as if he had been watching it from the first, dropped the ball. he had made the catch over his left shoulder, almost at his neck. at first, the belden fans were disgruntled. "horseshoes!" yelled one in disgust; and, "you lucky fish!" wailed another. but, in the end, they applauded the wonderful play. in a way, of course, as bonfire readily admitted to himself, it was luck: the same type of luck that makes a pitcher fling up a gloved hand to shield his face from a screaming liner, only to have the ball hit his palm and stick there. but it was something more than mere luck in bonfire's case; it was the result of a whole season of observation and experiment. the secret of the catch was buried deep in the boy's peculiarly inquisitive and analytic mind. big-league fielders did not wait till the ball was high in the air before running to get under it. at the crack of the bat, they were off. in the few professional games bonfire had seen, he decided these star fielders estimated the force of the drive from the sound of crashing wood and horsehide, and the direction from the first glimpse of the rising ball. it was a knack of determining the spot where the fly would land; a kind of baseball instinct that could be developed only by infinite patience and observation. at the beginning of the lakeville season, bonfire set himself the stint of training his eyes and ears. day after day, while the nine practiced or played games, he tested his own powers. sometimes he sat on the bench, alert to hear and see; sometimes he wandered out toward the fielders. but always, when a fly was hit, his ear registered the crack of the flailing bat, and his eye followed the ascending ball. then, abruptly, he turned away. it would fall on that spot, he guessed, picking a target in the outfield; or there; or there. at first, naturally, he was often yards and yards astray in his calculations; but as the season waned, with no lessening of his tense study, he came gradually to guessing closer and closer, till finally the accuracy of his snap decisions was almost uncanny. "bonfire," beamed bunny happily, slapping the hero of the play on his back, after the lakeville team had come in for the last of the ninth inning, "that was the most wonderful catch i ever saw. honest, it was. i didn't know you had it in you. why didn't you try for the team this spring?" bonfire stared at him quizzically. "too big a coward, maybe," he said. "i was such a dub in track events and football and basketball and in baseball, too--last fall, i mean--that i didn't want to run the risk of being jeered and laughed at any more. next season--" he allowed the sentence to remain unfinished, but his quick smile was more a promise than any words could have been. with belden leading by one run, and the game almost over, lakeville began the ninth inning with a do-or-die energy. roundy, up first, singled cleanly. ordinarily, that hit would have stirred the team into ecstasies; now it called forth only a few half-hearted cheers. for roundy was the last regular player on the batting list. after him, as specs put it tersely, came nothing. "nothing", in this case, meant the four substitutes. nap fouled out to the catcher. s. s. fanned; he always fanned, it seemed; if he had done anything else, the others would have thought it the end of the world. this brought bonfire to bat, which is only another way of saying that the game was apparently lost; for every player on the lakeville bench recalled his ludicrous attempts to connect with the ball when they had tested him at molly's picnic. but bonfire was undismayed. accidents might happen. hadn't he knocked a home run that first day of school? and hadn't he studied batting as assiduously as he had studied fielding through the long season? he knew how to grip his bat, six or eight inches from the knob, and how to take a choppy swing with his wrists, body and arms, stepping forward and sidewise to meet the ball. his older brother, who was something of a celebrity in college baseball, had drilled him in these technical points. during almost the whole of the christmas holidays, when bonfire had visited him, the two had repaired to the baseball cage of the college gymnasium; big brother pitching and explaining, little brother batting and--more and more frequently as they progressed--hitting. later in the spring, two other loyal friends, sworn to secrecy, had thrown and thrown to him in the seclusion of the cree backyard. at the outset, as in the fielding stunt, he had been chagrined over his failures. little jimmy white had fanned him; molly sefton had fanned him. but the time came when neither could fool him, when his bat lashed hard and true against their best offerings. it was with these memories in mind that bonfire stood facing the belden pitcher. in the earlier innings, he had flied out once, walked twice, and missed a twisting third strike on his other trip to the plate. bonner had him tabbed as a weakling with the bat; even his own team mates did not expect him to hit. bonfire's lips set in a straight, firm line. he waited unmoving as the first ball sped past. it was the usual coaxer, a bit wide of the plate. but when the pitcher wound up again, bonfire braced himself, breathing quickly. the straight, fast ball was due. "i'm going to hit it," he told himself in a matter-of-fact way. "i'm going to hit it--hard." the pitch began. from the coil of whirling arms, the ball leaped toward the plate. at the same instant, bonfire tensed the muscles of his arms and began the swing of his body. ball and bat met exactly above the center of the plate. "over left-fielder's head," bonfire exulted, trained ears and eyes determining the end of that parabola to be marked by the soaring ball, half liner, half fly. "two-bagger, sure; maybe three." he rounded first at full speed. ahead of him somewhere, roundy was tearing around the bases. a coacher waved excited arms to bonfire. "go on!" he shrieked. "keep going!" just before his leg hit the sack at second, bonfire stole a glance toward left field. the ball was rolling along the ground now, far beyond a youth who was frantically chasing after it. bonfire swept on to third. roundy scored. bunny, coaching off third, was threshing his arms wildly toward home, as if he were intent upon sweeping the runner over the plate. "go on, bonfire!" he yelled. "you can make it!" legs pounding like flying piston rods, bonfire began the last lap of his race against the ball. for half the distance between third and home, he ran without hearing a sound from the belden fans. the silence spurred him on. but suddenly they waked into rustling hope. the ball was coming in. they murmured. they rumbled. they roared. they thundered like madmen. high above the din, bonfire caught specs' excited treble. "slide!" the voice vibrated. "slide!" bonfire threw himself forward in a magnificent headlong dive. his hand ploughed toward the plate. pebbles scratched his palm. dust swirled up in clouds. and then, as his groping fingers found the cool rubber, he heard a thud above him, and the catcher clamped the ball hard on his protruding arm. bonfire leaped to his feet. the play had been close, very close. for an instant, he could see nothing but a cloud of dust. but as it cleared, his eyes found the umpire. the man was leaning forward, arms flung wide, palms down. and he was saying, "runner is safe!" lakeville had won the game and the state interscholastic baseball championship,--lakeville and its substitutes. the score: ======================================================== innings | | | | | | | | | | |total ----------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+--+------ belden | | | | | | | | | | | lakeville | | | | | | | | | | | ======================================================== chapter xxvi the twenty-fifth boy bunny was sure the young man who shared his seat on the train must be mistaken. "you see," he told him, "there are only eight boy scouts in a patrol, and there is only one patrol in lakeville. besides, i am one of those eight. that leaves only seven you could have seen, because i have been visiting my uncle in elkana for a week." the young man was stubborn. "i know what i saw with my own eyes," he insisted. "last thursday afternoon, when i was in lakeville, there were at least twenty kids around town in boy scout uniforms." bunny nodded politely. "maybe some patrols from other places were there," he suggested, beginning to wish he had postponed his visit to uncle george, instead of stopping over on the trip back from the belden baseball game. perhaps the black eagles had been entertaining, and he had missed some fun. "that may be," agreed the young man, ready to dismiss the subject. he glanced impatiently at his watch, and clutched the sleeve of the passing conductor. "how late is this train, anyhow?" the conductor looked out the car window. "we are just coming into lakeville," he said. "we are due there at : , and it is now : ; call it an hour behind time. those two hot-boxes--" he passed on, leaving the balance of the sentence dangling apologetically in the air. as familiar objects swept into view, several passengers rose from their seats. the train passed the fair play factory at full speed, began to brake opposite horace hibbs' modest home in the outskirts, and ground to a stop at the station. the very first person to alight was bunny payton. peter hinkle, the station master, waved him a welcome. since the black eagles had parked the former barren spot on the other side of the tracks with green sod and a border of gay flowers, spelling out the name of the town with whitewashed stones, peter had been their sturdy champion. "well! well!" he said. "here's another boy scout. the town's full of them now." there it was again. bunny stepped forward eagerly to ask questions; but the station master was too busy with the incoming baggage to stop for a talk. moreover, the sight of a familiar blue hat and blue-and-white dress down the platform drew bunny like a magnet. it was spring, and he was growing up. "hello, mary chester," he said, extending his hand. the girl shook hands shyly. it was the first time the two had met since the memorable rescue on the lake. "father and i came down to mail a letter on the train," she explained. a smile lighted her face so glowingly that bunny wondered why he had never before realized what a pretty girl mary jennie chester really was. "oh, bunny, i'm so glad!" "about our winning that baseball game?" "no-o. oh, yes, i am glad about that, too. but i meant about what's happened to you boy scouts. i think--" "mary!" called mr. chester from the light runabout drawn up by the platform. with an embarrassed, "good-by, bunny," the girl hurried away to join her father, leaving him standing there with open mouth, looking, if the truth must be confessed, very confused and very foolish. what on earth had mary chester meant? what was the mystery about the boy scouts? across the road from the station, on the sidewalk, bunny met molly sefton. "look here," he demanded shortly, "what's all this talk about something happening to the boy scouts?" molly eyed him a little coldly. she must have witnessed his meeting with mary chester. he wondered uncertainly if that could account for her lack of cordial greeting; and all at once, without exactly understanding why, he blushed like a silly schoolgirl. he was sixteen years old now; almost a man. "oh, how are you, bunny?" said molly, in a listless, aloof tone that sounded like the snobbish marion genevieve chester in her snobbishest days. "the boy scouts? oh, they're doing wonderfully well, i hear." the tiniest wedge of a misunderstanding drove home. bewildered, offended, unwilling to allow the doubt to remain unchallenged, yet helpless before its baffling vagueness, bunny made some perfunctory remark. they discussed the weather; they wondered if the trains were always going to be late; they hoped the fire in grady's barn had taught royal sheffield not to throw lighted matches on the floor, after he had examined cuts in the tires of his car; they spoke of the spring election that had transferred the county seat from dunkirk to lakeville. and then, both of them very miserable, they parted. opposite the magoon residence, felix came galloping out, tail wagging, and intimated that he was ready to run after a thrown stick. but bunny was in no mood for the game. twisting faithful felix's ear in apologetic recognition, the boy plodded on toward home, where his aunt emma was probably keeping supper hot for him. he wondered how he was going to eat anything--now. "all i know about the boy scouts," said aunt emma, bringing him steaming dishes from the oven, "is that there have been some new patrols formed here in lakeville. they were organized early this week, and presidents elected--" "patrol leaders?" "yes, that's it. let me see if i can recall who the presidents--patrol leaders, i mean--are." she checked them off on her fingers. "royal sheffield; that's one. and arthur claxton; that's two. and--and rodman cree; that's three." halfway to his mouth, bunny halted the fork that had speared a juicy bite of roast beef. striving hard to keep his hand from trembling, he put it back on his plate. when he spoke, it was with forced carelessness. "how many new patrols are there?" he asked. "two, i think. gracious me, bunny payton, how can you expect me to keep posted on the boy scouts, with you away? but i understand there were two new patrols, in addition to the black eagles. that's three altogether. i counted three pres--leaders, didn't i?" "yes." "well, that's right. oh, i nearly forgot to tell you. there is to be a big meeting in the clubhouse to-night at seven o'clock. it's after seven now, but--why, bunny! you aren't going to run off without finishing your supper, are you? you haven't eaten enough to keep a sparrow alive. i do hope you aren't coming down with anything. did uncle george look after--" but bunny was gone. snatching his cap from the hall rack, he dashed out the door while she was still speaking. aunt emma sighed. she wondered if she would ever understand boys. the clubhouse of the black eagles was ablaze with light. at the door, bunny hesitated, uncertain of his welcome. while he was summoning courage to enter, he placed an affectionate hand on one of the rough logs that formed the wall, and stared with winking eyes at the jutting roof overhead. it was not a showy house, but it was staunch and honest from peak to foundation. he remembered the sacrifices he had made to help build it for the old patrol. the doorway was in the shadow of one of the middle pillars. under cover of this half-light, bunny edged cautiously into the big room. all the boys in town seemed to be there, from buck claxton, sitting on the front bench, to prissy prissler, conspicuous in a new scout uniform. bunny counted them with nervous haste. twenty-four. he counted again, hoping against hope that he had miscalculated. but the result was the same. twenty-four boys; twenty-four scouts. a patrol was eight; three times eight was twenty-four. the twenty-fifth--well, there was no use dodging the plain facts. there were three full patrols, with one boy over. he sucked in his breath with a curious whistling sound. on the platform at the far end of the room, horace hibbs rose to his feet. he had a paper in his hand. "first of all, boys," he began, beaming upon them with his fatherly smile, "i shall read you the roster of the scouts of the lakeville troop. it is composed, as you all know, of three patrols--the kangaroos, the buffaloes, and the black eagles. the membership of the kangaroo patrol is as follows: leader, sheffield; assistant leader, kiproy; no. , collins--" bunny did not hear the other names. he was waiting with fast-beating heart for the roll call of the black eagles. but when scout master hibbs finished with the kangaroos, he began reading the names of those who had formed the buffalo patrol: "leader, claxton; assistant leader, barrett; no. , turner--" it seemed to bunny he would never come to the end of the list. when he did finally, the boy at the door shrank deeper into the enshrouding gloom. "the present organization of the black eagles," droned horace hibbs, "is as follows: leader, cree; assistant leader, jones; no. , meeker; no. , mcgrew; no. , zane; no. , magoon; no. , henderson; no. , prissler." well, it was over at last. bunny knew now who that twenty-fifth boy was--himself. what had happened? why had he been dropped? he groped his way toward the door of the clubhouse,--the house that he had planned and helped to build. it was wrong! it couldn't be true! surely, his ears had played him some hideous trick. "it has been voted," horace hibbs went on, "that i act as scout master for the lakeville troop. in accepting the office--" the voice halted weakly. before bunny looked up, he knew what he would see: the gray-haired man wiping his glasses and smiling, half proudly, because to him the position was a very real honor, and half wistfully, because the snow on his head marked the years since he had been a boy himself in more than heart. in spite of his own hurt, bunny understood and sympathized. "i shall try," horace hibbs promised, after a pause, "to live up to your trust in me, boys. if you will just try to like me as well as i like all of you now, i think we shall get along together." there came another moment of silence. bunny stiffened apprehensively. almost any time now, the meeting might be adjourned. if they found him there-- "and finally," continued horace hibbs, striving to cover his emotion by resuming his businesslike tone, "i wish to thank you, in behalf of our absent member, for the trust and confidence you have placed in him by electing him troop leader. if bunny payton were here, i might properly hesitate to praise him to his face; but now i feel that i may speak freely of his--" the old adage has it that eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves. on this particular occasion, it bade fair to be shattered and laid on the shelf. it would have been, too, but for one saving incident. before horace hibbs could launch into his eulogy, bunny slipped quietly out the door into the gathering darkness. for a long moment, he stood just beyond the threshold, breathing hard and trying to still the mad thumping of his heart. then, without rhyme or reason, he threw up his heels and began to run at the top of his speed. the rising moon winked at him. felix joined noisily in the wild chase. the swaying tree tops bent and laughed in the breeze. after all, it was june, and he was only sixteen, and the world was young. aunt emma looked up with startled eyes as he burst into the house. "please!" he panted incoherently. "will you--if it isn't too late--i'm troop leader--a little something to eat--hungry." the puckered lines on aunt emma's forehead smoothed magically. the boy could not be sick or troubled if he wanted food. a hungry boy was altogether normal. she bustled happily into the kitchen. bunny went straight to the telephone. when the connection had been made, he said: "hello! is molly there?--oh, is this you, molly? there's something i wanted to tell you. i couldn't wait. i've been elected troop leader of all the lakeville scouts--three whole patrols of them." he waited a breathless second for her reply. but when it came, he laughed aloud from sheer joy of living. the molly he had always known was talking to him now. in one ecstatic sentence, she said she was glad, and proud of him, and sure he would be the most wonderful troop leader in the whole united states, or anywhere else, for that matter; and wouldn't he go riding in the car in the morning? his last trouble vanished into thin air, bunny hung up the receiver and faced aunt emma, who was heaping the table with the most appetizing food he had ever seen. "i guess," he grinned, "i'm about the luckiest boy in all the world." "why shouldn't you be?" asked practical aunt emma. the end _different from the usual boy scout stories_ the black eagle patrol series by leslie w. quirk _ volumes. with illustrations by william kirkpatrick_ vol. . the boy scouts of black eagle patrol the spirited account of eight boys of the black eagle patrol, and a ninth "outside" boy, together with a girl, the scout master, a burglar, and several interesting grown-ups. the story is full of rippling fun and thrilling intensity. "interesting story of the adventures of the members of the black eagle patrol, including incidents of home, school and camp life that show the ideals and fun of scouts and tenderfeet."--_wisconsin free library bulletin._ vol. . the boy scouts on crusade the boy scouts transform lakeville into a "wide-awake-town" with a first-class factory and new high school in prospect. the chief gain of the year is a new boy from the circus who learns to respect scout laws.--_american library association booklist._ "the story contains several thrilling incidents of action or adventure, and it is written in a style that enlists attention from the outset and sustains it to the end. it is a good book for boys."--_the christian register_, boston. "this story is worth reading. boy scouts will find herein their own lore authentically presented."--_the new york tribune._ vol. . the boy scouts of lakeville high this story deals with high school life and its season-round of athletic sports and games, with graphic descriptions of a track and field meet, coasting, canoeing, football and baseball. throughout, there are tense situations, rapid action, and an abundance of humor. real boys will like it; real parents will be glad they do. "it is a red-blooded, lively tale, with the thrill of contest on almost every page."--_the chicago evening post._ _realistic stories of college athletics_ wellworth college series by leslie w. quirk _ volumes. with illustrations by henry s. watson_ leslie w. quirk is justly one of the most popular writers of books for boys, and is unexcelled in his ability to adorn a tale with a moral. this series, which has been cordially endorsed by the boy scouts of america, deals chiefly with the athletic side of college life and has for its hero a manly fellow, "penny" wayne, whose term is replete with setbacks and triumphs, disappointments and achievements. vol. . the fourth down "story of a freshman on a middle west college football team, whose lesson in sacrificing individual ambition to 'team work' is an important part of his year's varied experience."--_american library association._ vol. . the freshman eight "continues 'the fourth down.' it has the right sort of college spirit and kind of pluck that keeps the crew in training after the 'gym' has burned down, which brings them the victory at poughkeepsie."--_american library association._ vol. . the third strike "athletics of every sort are indulged in and time is left for other college activities and study even."--_american library association._ vol. . ice-boat number one "winter sports of every sort, school rivalries, and a box mysteriously left at a shack in the woods at midnight, furnish the necessary interest."--_american library association._ boston little, brown & company publishers * * * * * * transcriber's note: plain print and punctuation errors were corrected. friend emmy, who "fell off the planet" far too soon. the boy scouts of woodcraft camp by thornton w. burgess author of the boy scouts on swift river the boy scouts on lost trail the boy scouts in a trapper's camp [illustration] illustrated by c. s. corson the penn publishing company philadelphia copyright by the penn publishing company [illustration] [illustration: the chief greeted him pleasantly] _to my wife_ _whose faith and encouragement have placed me in her debt beyond my power to pay_ introduction the boy scout movement has appealed to me from the very first as a long step in the right direction. it stands for an organized boyhood on a world-wide plan. it has in it the essentials for a stronger and better manhood, based on character building and physical development. clear and clean thinking and self-reliance are its fundamental principles. its weakness has been and is the difficulty in securing leaders, men with an understanding of and sympathy with boys, who can give the necessary time to active work in the field with the patrols, and who are themselves sufficiently versed in the lore of the woods and fields. for years, before ever the boy scouts were organized, i had dreamed of a woodcraft camp for boys, a camp which in its appointments and surroundings should make constant appeal to the imagination of red-blooded, adventure-loving boys, and which should at the same time be a true "school of the woods" wherein woodcraft and the ways of nature should be taught along much the same lines as those on which the boy scout movement is founded. in this and succeeding volumes, "the boy scouts on swift river," "the boy scouts on lost trail," "the boy scouts in a trapper's camp," i have sought to portray the life of such a school camp under boy scout rules. "the boy scouts of woodcraft camp" has been written with a twofold purpose: to stimulate on the part of every one of my boy readers a desire to master for himself the mysteries of nature's great out-of-doors, the secrets of field and wood and stream, and to show by example what the boy scout's oath means in the development of character. many of the incidents in the succeeding pages are drawn from my own experiences. and if, because of reading this story, one more boy is led to the shrine of the hemlock, there to inhale the pungent incense from a camp-fire and to master the art of tossing a flapjack, i shall feel that i have not written in vain. the author. contents i. the tenderfoot ii. woodcraft camp iii. first impressions iv. the initiation v. the recall vi. the specter in camp vii. first lessons viii. lonesome pond ix. a shot in the dusk x. a battle for honor xi. buxby's buncombe xii. lost xiii. the honey seekers xiv. the supreme test xv. crafty mike xvi. the poacher of lonesome pond xvii. the haunted cabin xviii. on guard xix. for the honor of the tribe xx. the home trail illustrations the chief greeted him pleasantly _frontispiece_ diagram of woodcraft camp "tell him you are to be a delaware" he had built a fire billy's apparatus for making fire "run!" he yelled the boys were drilled in wig-wag signaling the boy scouts of woodcraft camp chapter i the tenderfoot in the semi-darkness of daybreak a boy of fourteen jumped from a pullman sleeper and slipped a quarter into the hand of the dusky porter who handed down his luggage. "you are sure this is upper chain?" he inquired. "'spects it is, boss, but i ain't no ways sho'. ain't never been up this way afore," replied the porter, yawning sleepily. the boy vainly strove to pierce the night mist which shrouded everything in ghostly gray, hoping to see the conductor or a brakeman, but he could see barely half the length of the next pullman. a warning rumble at the head of the long train admonished him that he must act at once; he must make up his mind to stay or he must climb aboard again, and that quickly. the long night ride had been a momentous event to him. he had slept little, partly from the novelty of his first experience in a sleeping car, and partly from the excitement of actually being on his way into the big north woods, the mecca of all his desires and daydreams. consequently he had kept a fairly close record of the train's running time, dozing off between stations but waking instantly whenever the train came to a stop. according to his reckoning he should now be at upper chain. he had given the porter strict orders to call him twenty minutes before reaching his destination, but to his supreme disgust he had had to perform that service for the darkey. that worthy had then been sent forward to find the conductor and make sure of their whereabouts. unsuccessful, he had returned just in time to hand down the lad's duffle. now, as the preliminary jerk ran down the heavy train, the boy once more looked at his watch, and made up his mind. if the train was on time, and he felt sure that it was, this was upper chain, the junction where he was to change for the final stage of his journey. he would stay. the dark, heavy sleepers slowly crept past as the train gathered way, till suddenly he found himself staring for a moment at the red and green tail lights. then they grew dim and blinked out in the enveloping fog. he shivered a bit, for the first time realizing how cold it was at this altitude before daybreak. and, to be quite honest, there was just a little feeling of loneliness as he made out the dim black wall of evergreens on one side and the long string of empty freight cars shutting him in on the other. the whistle of the laboring locomotive shrieked out of the darkness ahead, reverberating with an eery hollowness from mountain to mountain. involuntarily he shivered again. then, with a boyish laugh at his momentary loss of nerve, he shouldered his duffle bag and picked up his fishing-rod. "must be a depot here somewhere, and it's up to me to find it," he said aloud. "wonder what i tipped that stupid porter for, anyway! dad would say i'm easy. guess i am, all right. br-r-r-r, who says this is july?" trudging along the ties he soon came to the end of the string of empties and, a little way to his right, made out the dim outlines of a building. this proved to be the depot. a moment later he was in the bare, stuffy little waiting-room, in the middle of which a big stove was radiating a welcome warmth. on a bench at one side sat two roughly-dressed men, who glanced up as the boy entered. one was in the prime of vigorous manhood. broad of shoulder, large of frame, he was spare with the leanness of the professional woodsman, who lives up to the rule that takes nothing useless on the trail and, therefore, cannot afford to carry superfluous flesh. the gray flannel shirt, falling open at the neck, exposed a throat which, like his face, was roughened and bronzed by the weather. the boy caught the quick glance of the keen blue eyes which, for all their kindly twinkle, bored straight through him. instinctively he felt that here was one of the very men his imagination had so often pictured, a man skilled in woodcraft, accustomed to meeting danger, clear-headed, resourceful--in fact just such a man as was deerslayer, whose rifle had so often roused the echoes in these very woods. the man beside him was short, thick-set, black-haired and mare-browed. his skin was swarthy, with just a tinge of color to hint at indian ancestry among his french forebears. he wore the large check mackinaw of the french canadian lumberman. against the bench beside him rested a double-bladed axe. a pair of beady black eyes burned their way into the boy's consciousness. they were not good eyes; they seemed to carry a hint of hate and evil, an unspoken threat. the man, taking in the new khaki suit of the boy and the unsoiled case of the fishing-rod, grunted contemptuously and spat a mouthful of tobacco juice into the box of sawdust beside the stove. the boy flushed and turned to meet the kindly, luminous eyes of the other man. "if you please, is this upper chain?" he inquired. "sure, son," was the prompt response. "reckon we must hev come in on th' same train, only i was up forward. guess you're bound for woodcraft camp. so'm i, so let's shake. my name's jim everly--'big jim' they call me--and i'm goin' in t' guide fer dr. merriam th' rest o' th' summer and try to teach you youngsters a few o' th' first principles. what might yer name be an' whar be yer from?" "walter upton, but the boys mostly call me 'walt.' my home is in new york," replied the boy. "never hit th' trail t' th' big woods afore, did yer?" inquired the big guide, rising to stretch. "no," said walter, and then added eagerly: "but i've read lots and lots of books about them, and i guess i could most find my way along a trail even if i am a city tenderfoot. i've paddled a canoe some, and i know all about the habits of wild animals and how to build a fire and----" "son," interrupted big jim, "stop right thar! forget it--all this rot you've been a-readin'. woodcraft never yet was larned out o' books, and it never will be. i reckon you an' me are goin' t' hitch up together fine, an' when yer go back t' yer daddy this fall yer'll be able t' take him out in th' tall timbers an' show him a few stunts what ain't down in th' program o' city schools, but what every cottontail born in the north woods larns the second day he gets his eyes open. now yer jes' fergit all this stuff yer've been a-readin' and stick t' me; we'll git along fine. i'll make a woodsman o' yer yer dad will be proud o'. let's have a look outside t' see how the weather is." as he followed the big fellow out onto the platform walter felt his cheeks burn at this wholesale condemnation of his treasured books, one of which, "a complete guide to woodcraft," was at that moment within easy reach in the top of his duffle bag. despite his natural admiration for this big guide, to whom the mountains, lakes and woods were as an open book, and his unbounded delight in having made a good impression, walter was not yet willing to overthrow his former idols for this new one, and he was independent enough to stand by his opinions until convinced that he was wrong. "have you ever read any of them, mr. everly?" he inquired courteously. "me? read them books?" big jim's laugh rolled out infectiously. "what would i read 'em for, sonny? i've seen some o' them book-writers in th' woods, and thet's enough fer me. lordy!" and again jim's hearty laugh rolled forth. walter laughed a little too, but deep in his heart he resolved that he would yet show big jim that there was some good in the despised books. to change the subject he inquired about the low-browed owner of the axe back by the fire. "him? why, thet's red pete, a french canuck with some indian in him, an' th' meanest man in th' mountains," replied big jim. the mist had begun to burn off. even as they watched they saw it roll in great tattered masses up the side of the opposite mountain. with the coming of the sun walter was able to take note of his surroundings, and his eager eyes drank in the scene so strange to him but so familiar to his companion. it was one of those few moments which come to all of us, when we experience sensations which so impress themselves upon the memory that never are they forgotten. walter felt a thrill that made him tingle from head to foot and, from sheer delight, clinch his hands till the nails nearly bit into the flesh. since he was big enough to read "deerslayer" and "the pathfinder" and captain mayne reid's fascinating tales of adventure in forest and on the plains he had lived in an imaginary world of his own--a wonderful world, where he penetrated vast wildernesses, voyaged on great rivers and climbed snow-capped mountains. now he was really in the great woods; his dreams were coming true in a measure. indeed, it was a scene to stir any red-blooded boy. a gentle breeze, moving across an unsuspected lake, rolled before it great billowing masses of vapor. the sun, just rising above the eastern hills, drew the mist swiftly up the mountainsides in broken, detached masses that eddied, separated, came together and in an incredibly short time dissipated in thin, clear air, till naught remained save in the deepest hollows not yet penetrated by the sun's rays. walter drew a long breath. "oh!" he gasped, and again, "oh!" big jim looked at him curiously, while a sincere liking twinkled in his blue eyes. "never see a sunrise in th' mountains afore, did yer, sonny?" he asked. "jes' yer wait till yer see a sunup from th' top of old baldy, and watch forty lakes throw off their night clothes all at once." sordid enough was the scene now revealed close at hand in the clear morning light, the ulcer of so-called civilization, to be seen wherever man has pushed the outposts of commercialism into the great forests. a dozen log houses and a few ugly frame buildings, the latter unpainted for the most part, but with one a glaring red and another a washed-out blue, dotted an irregular clearing on either side of the railroad. close by, the tail of a log jam choked a narrow river, while the tall iron stack of a sawmill towered above the rough board roof that afforded some protection to the engine and saws. off to the right glistened the end of a lake of which the river was the outlet, its margin a mass of stark, drowned timber. the peculiar odor of wet sawdust filled the air. a sawdust road threaded its way among the scattered buildings, and all about were unsightly piles of slabs, heaps of bark and mill waste. but to walter it was all fascinating. the sky-scrapers of his native city seemed not half so wonderful as these moss and clay chinked cabins. he pinched himself to make quite sure he was awake, that it was all real. an engine and single dingy coach were backing down a siding. "thar's our train, son," said his companion. "better stow yer duffle aboard. it won't pull out for half an hour, and then it'll be a twenty-minute run over t' upper lake. i want to see tim mulligan over yonder t' th' store, but i'll join yer on th' train." taking the hint, walter put his duffle aboard the train beside the pack basket of his friend, and then, to kill time, started out to form a closer acquaintance with the town. from most of the houses thin columns of smoke and the odor of frying bacon or pork proclaimed that breakfast was being prepared. occasionally he had glimpses of weary-faced women in faded calico gowns. one, standing in the doorway of her cabin, was barefooted. a frowzy-headed, dirty-faced little urchin stared at him from the shelter of her skirts. the men he met were for the most part rough, good-natured fellows, dressed in the flannel shirt of the woods, their trousers thrust into high, laced, hobnailed boots. several nodded kindly or exchanged a "howdy" with the bright-faced boy. on his way back, as he neared a cabin somewhat apart from the others, he heard voices in angry dispute. turning a corner of the cabin he was just in time to see a boy of about his own age, but a good head taller, strike a vicious blow at a whimpering hunchback. in a flash walter confronted the astonished young ruffian, eyes flashing and fists doubled. "you coward!" he shouted. "you miserable coward, to strike a boy smaller than yourself, and a cripple!" for an instant the other stared. then his face darkened with an ugly scowl, and he advanced threateningly. "get out av here! this ain't any av your business, ye city dude!" he growled. "i'll make it my business when you hit a little fellow like that," replied walter, edging between the bully and his victim. "want ter foight?" demanded the other. "no, i don't," said walter, "but i want you to leave that little chap alone." "huh, yez do, do yez?" responded the other, and rushing in he aimed an ugly blow at walter's face. the fight was on. and just here the young ruffian was treated to the greatest surprise of his bullying career. instead of crushing his slight antagonist as he had contemptuously expected to, he lunged into empty space. the next instant he received a stinging blow fairly on the nose. for a moment he gasped from sheer surprise, then, with a howl of pain and rage, he rushed again. to all appearances it was a most unequal match. the young backwoodsman was not only taller, but was heavy in proportion; his muscles were hardened by work and rough outdoor life in a sawmill village, and hard knocks had toughened him as well. in contrast, the city boy seemed slight and hopelessly at a disadvantage. but underneath that neat khaki jacket was a well-knit, wiry frame, and muscles developed in the home gymnasium. moreover, walter's father believed in teaching a boy to take care of himself, and it was not for nothing that walter had taken lessons in boxing and wrestling. as before, he avoided the rush by lightly side-stepping, driving in a vigorous left to the ear and following this with a right which raised a lump just under his opponent's left eye. the latter backed away. then he came in again, but more cautiously. he was beginning to respect this elusive antagonist who hit so hard, yet managed to get away untouched. it was all so new in his experience that he was utterly at a loss to know what to expect. round and round they circled, each watching for an opening. suddenly walter took the offensive. as he started to rush he slipped in the wet sawdust. his opponent saw his advantage and swung hard, but walter caught the blow on his right forearm, and the next instant they were locked in a clinch. this was what the bully wanted. now he would throw his antagonist and, once he had him down, that would end the battle, for his ethics knew no quarter for a fallen foe. but again he reckoned without his host. scientific wrestling was an unheard-of art to the young giant, while in the home gymnasium walter had twice won the championship for his weight. for a few minutes they swayed this way and that, then walter secured the lock he was trying for, there was an instant of straining muscles, then the bully was pinned flat on his back. a big hand fell on walter's shoulder. "son," said big jim, "i hate t' break into yer morning exercise, but you an' me hev an engagement at upper lake, and we've got jes' two minutes t' ketch thet train." walter jumped up at once, and then held out his hand to the discomfited bully. "will you shake?" he asked. to the surprise of the delighted onlookers the fallen terror of the village arose and in a manly way, though sheepishly, shook the outstretched hand, for at heart he had the right stuff in him. "ye licked me fair an' square," he mumbled. "oi wish ye'd show me some av thim thricks." "i will if i ever have a chance. you ought to be a boy scout," shouted walter as he and big jim sprinted for the train. chapter ii woodcraft camp the light breeze which had lifted the mist at upper chain had dropped to a dead calm, and when walter followed the guide from the train down to the landing on upper lake not a ripple broke its placid surface. as far as he could see it lay like a great magic mirror, the heavily-wooded shores reflected so clearly that the inverted forest appeared no less real than the original, so marvelously counterfeited. in every direction mountain succeeded mountain, for the most part clothed to their summits with the variegated green of the mighty woodland growth, the somber spruce of the higher slopes, black against the lighter green of yellow and white birch, maple and ash, which had reclaimed to the wilderness the vast tracts ruthlessly laid bare by reckless lumbering twenty years before. one of the nearer mountains was crowned with bare, exposed ledges to which clung a few unsightly blasted trunks, mute witnesses to the devastation wrought by fire. by a peculiar optical effect produced by the angle of light in a dead calm at that time of the day, floating objects appeared magnified to many times their actual size, so that a launch some two miles distant, whose rapid put-put had drawn their attention when they first stepped from the train, appeared to be less than half that distance away. big jim looked at it long and steadily, shading his eyes with a big hand. "thet's 'woodcraft girl' all right," he said, "and i reckon they're comin' down fer us. yer make yerself t' home, son, while i run back up yonder t' th' hotel and rastle up some grub. we'll be some hungry before we reach camp if i don't." walter seated himself on the end of the pier and drank in the beauty of the exquisite scene. alongside a little mail boat was getting up steam, her crew busily stowing away express packages and supplies of all kinds for the various camps and hotels scattered along the lake. half a dozen passengers were already aboard. two adirondack skiffs, each pulled by a brawny guide, a fisherman lolling at ease in the stern, were just setting out for the fishing grounds. all was hustle and activity, in strange contrast with the quiet lake and the majestic calm of the mountains. in a few minutes big jim returned with some sandwiches, which they promptly disposed of while they waited for the approaching launch. it was now near enough for walter to make out the blue pennant with the magic words "woodcraft camp" fluttering at the bow, and a moment later there came a joyous hail of "oh, you jim!" from the figure in the bow, followed by a wild waving of a small megaphone. "oh, you bob!" bellowed the big guide, swinging his hat. the launch drew in rapidly and was deftly laid alongside. from it sprang two young fellows of seventeen or eighteen, in olive khaki trousers, flannel shirts and soft-brimmed hats, who straightway fell upon walter's companion and pounded and thumped him and shook both hands at once, and were pounded and thumped in return. when their somewhat noisy demonstration was over the one whom jim had called bob turned to walter and held out his hand. "guess your name is upton, isn't it?" he inquired with a pleasant smile. "my name is seaforth, and this is louis woodhull, the best fellow in woodcraft camp. dr. merriam sent us down to look for you, but i see you were already in good company. the doctor was some worried for fear you might have missed connections at upper chain, but if he'd known that you were trailing in company with this old son of the backwoods his mind would have been easy. jim, you great big stick of seasoned timber, it sure does a fellow good to look at you. stow this young fellow and the duffle in the launch while i get the mail and do some errands, and we'll be off. the whole camp's a-looking for you, though they don't expect you till to-morrow. you're sure needed. ed mulligan is guiding over on big moose and won't be with us this year, but his younger brother, tom, is taking his place, and i guess he'll make good." bob's errands were soon done, the supplies, duffle and mail pouch stowed away in the launch, and her nose pointed down the lake. bob took the wheel, while louis ran the engine. walter was up forward, "to be properly impressed," as bob put it. and if that was really the object in giving him the best post of observation, its success left nothing to be desired. with eager eyes he drank in the wonderful panorama constantly unfolding--as the launch sped swiftly over the lake. here the lake was less than half a mile wide, then abruptly it opened up great bays which made it more than twice that width from shore to shore. how he longed to explore those bays and coves! two big summer hotels on commanding bluffs were passed, showing but little life as yet, for the season had not fairly opened. on rocky points, or half hidden in sheltering coves, he caught glimpses of summer "camps," most of them built of logs, but in many cases little short of palatial, and the boy's lips curled with scorn at this travesty of wealth upon the simple life. gradually the camps became fewer and farther apart until only an occasional lean-to or a tent now and then, clinging on the very edge of the forest, was evidence of man's invasion, and walter felt that now in truth he was entering the wilds. from the good-natured chaff and talk of his companions he gathered that big jim had been chief guide at woodcraft camp ever since this famous school in the woods had been started, and that the two young men had been among his earliest pupils. with eager ears he drank in their talk of fish and lures, of deer, rifles and hunting lore. occasionally, as they skirted an island or ran around a sunken reef, one or another would recall a famous catch of bass or a big laker taken there. of the two young men, seaforth was the more talkative. he was dark, with sparkling black eyes and a merry, likable face, which, for all its irrepressible good-humor, had in it a strength and purpose which denoted a solid foundation of character. he was broad-shouldered, deep-chested, finely-developed, a splendid type of young american manhood. his chum was rather slight in build, but wiry, with light hair and a rather thin, clean, serious face which gave the impression of tremendous nervous energy habitually under control. he took but little part in the conversation, but his quiet smile at the sallies between bob and the guide was of a peculiarly winsome sweetness. his slight reserve drew rather than repelled walter, who instinctively felt that the friendship of louis woodhull was something well worth the winning. they had now come some twelve miles down the lake, and presently bob pointed out a long pier jutting out from the eastern shore, and beyond it, just to the left of a giant pine, a flagstaff from which old glory was fluttering limply in the light breeze just beginning to ripple the surface of the lake. "there you are, upton, your first glimpse of woodcraft," he said. "i hope you'll----" but what he hoped walter never knew. a shrill "hy-i-i-i-i! we want that tenderfoot!" cut him short, as a canoe manned by two youngsters of about walter's own age shot out from an island the launch was just passing. both boys were in trunks and jerseys and paddling like mad to intercept the launch. suddenly the one in the stern caught sight of the guide. for an instant he stopped paddling, while a look of pleased surprise passed over his face, and then with a wild yell of "jim, oh, you jim!" he redoubled his efforts. seaforth put the wheel over to port a couple of spokes. "no you don't, billy!" he called with a grin. "this boat carries uncle sam's mail, and it can't stop to pick up tows." "aw, louis, slow her down, won't you?" begged billy. louis smiled good-naturedly; but the engine slowed down not a bit. "ta-ta," called bob. "the indian attack is foiled, billy. i'm ashamed of you! your paddling is abominable. where's that new stroke that's going to win the championship? see you later." and then it happened. one moment two boys were frantically digging up the water with their paddles and the next a canoe was floating bottom up, one boy white-faced and frightened, clinging to the bow, and the other, with a malicious grin on his freckled face, swimming at the stern. the instant it happened seaforth put the wheel hard over and, describing a short circle, headed for the canoe. walter's heart had been in his mouth, but the others seemed not a bit disturbed. louis stopped the launch, and while the guide righted and emptied the canoe, he and seaforth hauled the victims aboard. "you little beggar!" growled bob as he grabbed billy by the slack of his jersey, "i've a mind to duck you until you howl for mercy. you did that purposely." billy grinned. "you didn't suppose i was going to let you land big jim and i not be there, did you?" he asked. "that's all right, billy, but this is going to be reported," broke in louis. "don't, please don't, louis," begged the culprit. "sorry, son, but it's got to be. we love you, billy, and because we love you we're going to report. you addle-pated little scamp, when will you ever learn that whatever risks a man may run himself he has no right to involve others in danger? how did you know that allen there would be able to take care of himself, plunged unexpectedly into the water? he's been in camp only three days, so what did you know of his powers of resource? no, my son, we hate to tell tales, but we've a duty to you to perform, so prepare to pay the penalty." the launch was now once more under way with the canoe in tow. walter was duly introduced to the penitent billy and his victim, harry allen, like himself a new recruit and therefore a tenderfoot. several boys had gathered on the pier to size up any newcomers the launch might bring, and walter felt himself the target for a battery of eyes. the ordeal was light, however, compared with what it would have been at nightfall or earlier in the day, for it was now nine o'clock and the boys were largely scattered in the duties and pursuits of camp life. as the launch was made fast billy whispered, "here comes dr. merriam; isn't he a peach?" walter looked up with just a little feeling of awe to see the man of whom he had heard so much--a scientist, explorer, author and lecturer, honored by many scientific societies and institutions of learning both at home and abroad, and now content to bury himself in the north woods as the founder and head of the most unique school in the world--a school with a purpose which was, as he himself whimsically expressed it, "to make big men of little boys." woodcraft camp was the outgrowth of years of study and observation of boy life and the needs of the tremendous army of youth annually turned loose upon the country for three months of idleness and mischief. it was, in effect, a vacation school, so cleverly masked in the guise of a camp that probably not one among the pupils, save a few of the older boys, recognized it as such. its courses were manliness, self-reliance, physical and mental health, strength of character, simplicity of desire and love of nature. the curriculum embraced all forms of athletic sports, swimming, canoeing, fishing, shooting, forestry, the rudiments of civil engineering, woodcraft in all its branches from the pitching of a tent or building of a lean-to to the cooking of a good meal, the shooting of a rapid and the way to live off of the country in an unknown wilderness. botany, ornithology, the rudiments of physiology, as taught by a knowledge of first aid to the injured--all these things and more were taught, while the boys, all unconscious that they were being systematically trained and developed, thought only of the jolly good times they were having. timid, nervous, under-developed youngsters entering the camp at the beginning of the summer vacation went forth to their studies in the fall brown, hearty, well muscled and with a quiet confidence in themselves and their own abilities to do things which won immediate recognition among their fellows. and not one among them but held in the secret places of his heart as his ideal in life the man whom walter now saw approaching with a quick, elastic step. he was about fifty years of age, medium height, thin, but sinewy, a human dynamo of nervous energy. he was clean shaven, slightly gray at the temples, with firm, square jaw, rather large mouth, prominent nose and eyes which seemed to see all things at once yet from which a smile seemed ever ready to leap forth. it was far from a handsome face, save in the beauty of strength, but was a face to love, a face once seen never to forget. it was now all alight with pleasure at the sight of big jim. the guide leaped forward to meet the doctor, and in the greeting there was plainly evident a mutual respect and liking between these men, so far apart in the social scale, yet beneath the veneer produced by circumstance, so closely bound in a common brotherhood. turning from the guide the doctor held out his hand to walter. "upton," he said with a kindly smile, "let me welcome you as a member of woodcraft camp. buxby," turning to billy, "you show upton the way to wigwam no. and where to stow his duffle and wash up. by the way, buxby, you and your canoe look pretty wet. have an accident?" then without waiting for billy's reply he added, "you may police camp for the remainder of the day, buxby. carelessness and recklessness are equally reprehensible, and neither should ever go unpunished. upton, please report at my office in an hour. buxby will show you where it is." "and i never said a word; you can't fool the doctor," whispered woodhull to the discomfited billy, as the latter stooped to lift a package from the launch. billy made a wry face and then, good-naturedly shouldering walter's duffle bag, started up the trail toward a long log cabin. chapter iii first impressions woodcraft camp had originally been the headquarters for one of the largest lumbering crews operating in that section of the north woods. the location had been chosen with the same strategy a general in the field would display in selecting headquarters for the direction of important maneuvers. the site was on a broad level of ground sufficiently high to insure perfect drainage. a boiling spring furnished a perpetual supply of pure water. a logging road had been driven straight east, tapping a heavy hardwood belt on little knob, while branching from this road to the south another opened up the northwestern slopes of mt. sewell. a third, swinging to the north, brought all of the southeastern side of old scraggy under the dominion of the axe and peavy. thus the operations of three crews could be directed from the one central point, and the entire cut of this region be put into the lake with a minimum of effort. moreover, it was a scant half mile to the outlet of the lake, so that the rafting of the logs into the swift waters of the river was a comparatively easy matter. the magnitude of the operations and the comparative permanency of the camp called for substantial buildings, and the three log bunk houses, stables, storehouse and blacksmith's shop were splendid examples of the loggers' skill with axe and peavy. a long pier had been built into the lake, and the underbrush cut out for a considerable distance around the camp. with the despoiling of the once noble woodlands completed the camp had been abandoned to the occasional hunter or fisherman who passed that way. the clearing had grown up to a tangle of raspberry vines, and the deserted buildings had begun to show signs of neglect and decay, when dr. merriam chanced to camp there. at once he saw the opportunity to put into execution his long-cherished dream of a woodcraft school camp for boys. [illustration: diagram of woodcraft camp] the property, with some five hundred acres of adjoining land, was bought, the buildings repaired, with only such changes made as would adapt them to the needs of the proposed school, the land in the immediate vicinity cleared of underbrush, and the pier repaired. it was dr. merriam's idea to make as little change in appearance and arrangement as possible, that the camp might lose nothing of the romantic charm which surrounds every logging camp when seen for the first time by eager boyish eyes. walter, following billy up the trail, was ushered into the first of the three large cabins. inside it was almost as rough as the outside, yet he was at once conscious of that indescribable sense of comfort and security which the log cabin in the forest alone possesses. the low ceiling, which had originally divided the loft from the main room, had been removed to insure a better circulation of air. in a double tier down the two sides were built plain box bunks, each containing a tick filled with straw. sheets, gray blanket and a thin pillow, filled with aromatic fir balsam, completed the equipment. each bunk was numbered and a corresponding number appeared on the bedding in each. in the rear of the room was a huge fireplace capable of taking in six foot logs, and on either side a tier of lockers numbered to correspond with the bunks. tossing walter's duffle on to the nearest bunk, billy suggested that he open up for his soap, towel, brush and comb. supplied with these necessary adjuncts to the toilet he meekly followed billy out to a long, low shed located to the rear and midway between the cabin he had just left and another, which was of the same size and, as he later discovered, of precisely the same interior arrangement. a broad shelf ran the entire length of this shed. on this stood three pails of water, each with a dipper hanging above it, while beneath the shelf hung a row of graniteware wash-basins. big galvanized nails were driven at convenient points for the towels and the folding mirrors which were a part of every boy's equipment. it was primitive, very primitive, but quite in accord with dr. merriam's idea, and walter had to admit that it served his purpose admirably. while walter made himself presentable, billy plied him with questions. when he got through walter felt that he had been pumped dry, and that the garrulous billy knew his life history. finally he ventured a few questions himself. "is this your first year?" he inquired. "me? my first year? say, do i look like a tenderfoot?" demanded the indignant billy. "say, you are green. never was off of broadway before, was you? no, sir, this is my third year. say, if you want to learn woodcraft, just you trot with me a while." "said woodcraft consisting at the present moment in policing camp," broke in a quiet voice just behind them. "probably upton had rather be excused." both boys turned to find louis woodhull, who, walking with the noiseless step of the forest ranger, had come upon them unawares. "there's a lot of chips around the wood-pile, billy, and cook wants them right now, so trot along, son," he continued. "doctor told me to look out for upton," protested billy. "upton is quite equal to taking care of himself, from all i hear," said louis drily. "wood-pile's waiting for a good, strong, able-bodied forester who knows woodcraft, one of the first essentials of which is knowledge of how to swing an axe. insubordination----" but billy, with a grimace, had already started for the chip basket. louis laughed. "billy is one of the best hearted boys in camp, but he's a reckless little beggar, and he does hate work. look out he doesn't lead you into mischief, upton. by the way, big jim tells me that you've already started in to conquer the wilderness, and have laid one of the savages low. where did you learn to use your fists?" "my father taught me how to protect myself almost as soon as i could walk, and then i took boxing lessons at the gym. that was nothing this morning; i couldn't have licked him if he'd known what i know," replied walter modestly. "my boy," said the older lad earnestly, "right there lies the difference between success and failure--knowledge--the know how--the know why--the know when. knowledge is power. it is better than bull strength. you knew how to make the most of what muscle you have got, and you won. you'll find that's the answer all through life. the man with knowledge and the power to apply it is top of the heap every time. take these big woods here--how long do you suppose a greenhorn from the city dropped in the middle of 'em alone, with nothing but gun and blanket, would live? but take a fellow like big jim, with his knowledge of the wilderness and wilderness ways, and he'd hit the nearest settlement in three days and live like a lord all the way. now, if you're ready i'll show you the way to the office. by the way, i'm going to ask dr. merriam to put you in my tribe; i like your style." the "office" was a small detached cabin which had formerly been the headquarters of the logging camp boss. it was divided into two rooms by means of burlap curtains. in the front room was a desk, a plain deal table, three rustic chairs and book shelves occupying two-thirds of the wall space. the head of a magnificent ten-point buck looked down from above the fireplace. over the books were mounted specimens of salmon, trout, bass and muskelonge. mounted specimens of rare birds, a case of butterflies wholly unlike any walter had ever seen, and which he suspected were from distant lands, specimen stones and minerals from the surrounding mountains, added to the fascination of the room. before the fireplace lay the skin of a huge bear, and two tanned deer hides were spread on the floor. in one corner stood a collection of guns, rifles, paddles, fishing-rods and landing nets which caught the boy's eager eyes the instant he entered. through the parted curtains he had a glimpse of the same primitive sleeping arrangement, namely a box bunk, that he had found in the big cabin where he had left his duffle. could he have peeped farther within he would have found a neat single iron bedstead with a hair mattress and snowy counterpane, a dainty white bureau, low, comfortable rocking-chair, sewing-machine and other evidences of feminine comfort, for, though dr. merriam religiously insisted on having for himself nothing more luxurious than he gave his "boys," the comfort of mrs. merriam--she was "mother" merriam to the whole camp in the affections of the boys--was another matter, and no pains were spared to make things pleasant and comfortable for her. in fact, not only the boys, but the guides and others attached to the camp vied with each other in showing her little attentions and waiting upon her. as walter and louis entered "mother" merriam came forward at once to greet the newcomer, and while louis talked with the doctor for a few minutes this quiet, sweet-faced, tactful little woman put the newcomer so at his ease that when louis finally bade his superior good-morning and went out, walter turned to meet the head of the camp wholly free from the awe with which he had entered the door not five minutes before. "upton," said the doctor, "woodhull has just requested that you be assigned to his 'tribe,' an honor which you do not appreciate now, but which you will later. the camp is divided into four patrols or 'tribes,' each under the leadership and direction of one of our oldest and most trustworthy boys, known as 'chiefs.' woodhull is chief of the delawares, and seaforth, whom you met with the launch, is chief of the algonquins, the two tribes occupying the big cabin known as wigwam no. , to which buxby showed you on your arrival. wigwam no. is occupied by the senecas and hurons, under chiefs avery and robertson. the rules of the camp are few and simple and every boy is put on his honor and is trusted to live up to them. reveille is sounded at five o'clock every morning, except sunday, when it is an hour later. at five-thirty on week-days and six-thirty on sunday mess is served to two of the tribes and half an hour later to the other two, the wigwams alternating in the order of service. "a detail from each wigwam is assigned to police the camp, that is, clear up all rubbish and keep the camp in order, wash dishes and chop fire-wood. noon mess is served from twelve to one o'clock and evening mess from five-thirty to six-thirty. at nine o'clock 'taps' is sounded, which means 'lights out' and every boy in bed. "each boy is expected to look after the making up of his own bed. there are certain defined limits on shore and on the lake beyond which no boy may go without a permit from his chief, sanctioned by me. "the building of fires at any time or place is strictly prohibited save when accompanied by a guide or chief. smoking is not allowed. violation of either of these two rules is sufficient cause for expulsion from camp. boys who cannot swim are not allowed in the boats or canoes unless accompanied by an older competent person, until they have learned to care for themselves. the carrying or use of firearms is forbidden except at the rifle range, where instruction is given daily by one of the guides. from time to time there will be 'special duty' squads, such as the surveying squad, forestry squad, logging squad, and others on which boys are expected to serve willingly, and in the performance of these duties they will be taught many of the essentials of woodcraft. "you will report this afternoon to mr. medcraft, our physical instructor, for examination, and will be expected to follow his recommendations for daily exercise. big jim has told me of your encounter at upper chain. my boy, i rejoice in the manliness and courage, in the sense of fair play, which led to your defense of the weak. of all men the bully is most contemptible. no bullies are allowed in this camp, and, upton, no fighting, unless all other means of settling a quarrel prove futile. then it is fought out with gloves in the presence of the whole camp and with an unbiased referee. it has happened but once; i hope it will not happen again. i mention this now, for i fear that you will find that you have established a reputation as a fighter, and such a reputation often leads one into difficulties which otherwise might be avoided. [illustration: "tell him you are to be a delaware"] "we are glad to have you as a member of woodcraft camp, and i hope we shall make a first-class scout and a thorough sportsman and woodsman of you. i will not add 'gentleman,' for we feel that every boy is that when he comes to us. if you are interested in any special branch of nature study come and consult me freely that i may aid you in its pursuit. "now you may report to chief woodhull, and tell him you are to be a delaware. he will inform you as to the minor rules of the camp and our methods of learning the most from this close communion and association with nature. we want you to go home in the fall feeling that you have had the best time a red-blooded boy could have, and that the summer has been profitable as well." with a pleasant smile the doctor shook hands warmly once more and walter started for the wigwam, secretly elated that he was to be under woodhull, and that he was to be a delaware, the tribe of uncas and chingachgook. he found woodhull waiting for him. the chief greeted him pleasantly. "so the big chief (that's what we call the doctor) has made a delaware of you? i'm glad of that." "so am i," responded walter. "now the first thing," the other continued, "is to get acquainted with the wigwam and stow away your duffle. the delawares have the east side, and the algonquins the west. your number is the skiddoo number, twenty-three, for bunk and locker, and i hope you'll make it a lucky number for the tribe. stow your duffle in your locker, and i'll show you around the camp and make you acquainted with some of the boys. by the way, upton, do you go in for athletics, besides boxing?" walter admitted that he ran a little, being best at the mile, was fairly good at the running broad jump, had once won a boy's canoe race, and had practiced a lot at a short range target with a small rifle. his chief received the information with manifest pleasure. "you see," he explained, "we have a big field day in august, and there is a lot of rivalry between the tribes, and especially between the two wigwams. a mounted deer's head is offered this year to the wigwam scoring the greatest number of points in woodcraft during the summer and in the field day sports, and we want it over our fireplace. the biggest fish caught each day counts five points and the biggest for the week fifteen points; the best photograph of wild animals or birds made during the summer counts twenty-five points; fifteen points each are scored for the rarest botanical specimen, best mineral specimen, largest number of birds positively identified, best collection of insects and largest number of trees identified. any exceptional feat of woodcraft scores to the benefit of the wigwam. the championship banner goes to the tribe winning the largest number of points in the successful wigwam. the hurons won it last year, but, son, the delawares have got to get it this year. then there are individual prizes well worth mentioning. we shall expect you to miss no opportunity to score for the honor of the tribe and wigwam. our wigwam leads now, but the algonquins have twenty points the best of the delawares. it's up to you to do your prettiest to help us get their scalps. by the way, don't be surprised if things are made some interesting for you to-night. whatever happens, keep your nerve and don't show the white feather." beyond this mysterious hint woodhull would vouchsafe no information, and walter could only guess at what might be in store for him. the tour of the camp included the big mess cabin, with the cook house in the rear, where they had a glimpse of billy and the chip pile, and the cabin of the three guides, where they found big jim very much at home, the other two being out with fishing parties, and where walter was introduced to mr. medcraft, the physical director, and to mr. burnham, a young y. m. c. a. man who was dr. merriam's assistant. these shared the cabin with the guides. they then went down to inspect the boats and canoes. several fishing parties were just coming in, and walter was introduced to some of his fellow tribesmen, as well as to members of the other tribes. as they turned back to the wigwam the bugle sounded for noon mess, and boys appeared as if by magic from every direction in a mad rush for the wash-house. presently walter found himself seated at a long table in the mess room, an agate-ware plate and cup before him, and an abundant supply of plain but well cooked food, in which deliciously browned trout were evidence of the practical lessons taught at woodcraft camp. chapter iv the initiation mess over, woodhull and seaforth took their stand at either side of the door, and walter noted that as each boy passed out he saluted the two chiefs with the scout's salute, and was saluted in return. it was a point of etiquette which he learned was never omitted, and which did much to maintain discipline and to instil the principles of respect for superior officers. once outside the mess room walter was free to inspect the camp in detail and at his leisure for, it being his first day, he was not assigned to any of the duty squads. there were fifty-two boys in camp, including the four leaders, or chiefs, and they were from all quarters, two being from as far west as chicago. they represented all classes in the social scale. a few were from homes of extreme wealth and one, according to billy, was a boston newsboy in whom the doctor took a personal interest. but in accordance with scout ideals all were on equal footing in the camp, and the most democratic spirit prevailed. achievement in scoutcraft alone furnished a basis for distinction. the camp had been established three years before the boy scouts of america came into existence, but dr. merriam had been quick to perceive the value of the new movement, the principles of which are, in fact, the very ones he had been seeking to inculcate in his unique school. this year the camp had been placed under scout regulations, and it was the doctor's desire to send every one of his boys home at the end of the summer as qualified scouts of the first class, fitted to take the leadership of home patrols. approaching from behind the wood-pile, where buxby's assignment to duty was keeping him busy, walter heard his own name and paused, uncertain whether to go on or not. billy was regaling the cook with an account of walter's exploit of the morning as he had wormed it out of big jim. "pretty spry with his fists, they say," concluded the talkative billy. then he added as an afterthought, "bet they'll get his goat to-night, though." walter waited to hear no more. he had not been wholly unconscious of the sly looks and mysterious winks passed between some of the boys he had met, and, though he did not allow it to show outwardly, he was inwardly not a little perturbed by the thought of the initiatory ordeal he felt sure he must undergo. chief woodhull's hint, together with the frequent exchange of meaning glances which he had intercepted, could mean but one thing--that his nerve and courage were to be put to some strange and crucial test. therefore it was with some trepidation that with the sounding of taps that night walter sought his bunk and turned in. in five minutes lights were out, and apparently the camp had settled down for the night. walter lay listening in suspense for some sound which would indicate that secret designs concerning himself were afoot, but nothing but the regular breathing of twenty-five healthy, tired boys rewarded his vigilance. it had been a long, strenuous day, with little rest the night before, and in spite of himself he soon fell asleep. he was awakened by the sudden removal of his blanket. despite his struggles he was bound and gagged. then his arms were loosed enough for his flannel shirt to be slipped on. his trousers and shoes followed, and then he was rolled in his blanket, picked up bodily and carried forth into the night. in absolute silence his captors bore him along what appeared to be a rough, little used trail. occasionally a dew-damp twig brushed his face. through the tangle of interlacing branches overhead he caught glimpses of the stars. the number of his captors he had no means of knowing. he was carried by relays, and though there were frequent changes he could not tell whether each time a new team of bearers took him or two teams alternated. once his bearers stumbled and nearly dropped him. once they seemed to lose the trail, stopping to hold a whispered consultation of which the victim could catch only a word here and there. after what seemed like an interminable length of time walter heard in the distance the tremolo of a screech-owl, answered by a similar call close at hand. a few minutes later they emerged in an opening. "are the canoes ready?" asked a subdued but sepulchral voice. "they are, chief," was the guarded reply. "then let them be manned," was the order. walter was carefully placed in a canoe amidship. he felt it gently shoved off, and then it floated idly while, to judge by the sounds, the other canoes were hastily put in the water. presently, at a low command from the rear of his own craft, there was the dip of many paddles and he felt the light craft shoot forward. flat on his back, he could see little but the star-sprinkled heavens. it seemed to him that never had he seen the stars so bright or apparently so near. by straining up and forward he caught the shadowy outline of the bow man's back, but the second time he tried it he was warned to desist. out of the tail of his left eye he sometimes caught the arm and paddle of the stern man on the forward reach. but thus far there had been nothing to give him the slightest idea whether he was in the hands of members of his own tribe or a captive of one of the rival tribes. swiftly, silently, save for the light splash of paddles and the gurgling ripple at the bow, the canoe sped on. never will walter forget the spell of that mysterious night ride on that lonely lake in the heart of the great north woods. his gag had been removed and, but for inability to move hand or foot, he was not uncomfortable. all the witchery of night in the forest was enhanced an hundredfold by the mystery of his abduction and the unknown trials awaiting him. a mighty chorus of frogs denoted low, marshy land somewhere in the vicinity. strange voices of furtive wild things floated across from the shore. once a heavy splash close to the canoe set his heart to thumping fiercely until he rightly surmised that it was made by a startled muskrat, surprised at his nocturnal feast of mussels. again, as they slipped through the heavy shadows close along shore, there was a crash in the underbrush which might or might not have been a deer. it was weird, uncanny, trying in the extreme, yet sending little electric thrills of fascination through the nerves of the city boy. how long the journey lasted walter could not tell, but he judged that it was at least half an hour before there suddenly broke out ahead a cry, so human yet so wild, that he felt the very roots of his hair crawl. once more it rang over the lake, a high-pitched, maniacal laugh that rolled across the water and was flung back in crazy echoes from the shores. in a flash it came to walter that this must be the cry of the loon, the great northern diver, of which he had often read. this time it was answered from the rear. a few minutes later the canoe grated on the shore. walter was lifted out, his eyes bandaged, the bonds removed from his legs and, with a captor on either side, he was led for some distance along what seemed like an old corduroy logging road. on signal from the leader a halt was made and the bandage was removed from the captive's eyes. curiously he glanced about, but in the faint light could make out little. apparently they were in the middle of a small opening in the forest. on all sides a seemingly unbroken wall of blackness, the forest, hemmed them in. in a half circle before him squatted some two dozen blanketed forms. one of these now arose and stepped forward. he was tall and rather slender. in the uncertain light his features appeared to be those of an indian. a single feather in his scalp lock was silhouetted against the sky. a blanket was loosely but gracefully draped about his figure. standing in front of the captive he drew himself up proudly to his full height and, leveling a long bare arm at the prisoner, addressed him in a deep guttural. "paleface, dweller in wigwams of brick and stone, it is made known to us that your heart turns from the settlements to the heart of the great forest, and that you desire to become a child of the lenape, whose totem is the tortoise, to be adopted by the delawares, the tribe of uncas and chingachgook; that you long to follow the trail of the red deer and to spread your blanket beside the sweet waters; to read the message of the blowing wind, and interpret aright the meaning of every fallen leaf. "you have come among us, paleface, not unheralded. our ears have been filled with a tale of valor. it has warmed the hearts of the delawares and their brothers, the algonquins. our young men have had their ears to the ground; they have followed your trail, and they yearn to make a place for you at their council fire. but, lest the tales to which they have listened prove to be but the chirping of a singing bird, it has been decided in secret council that you must undergo the test of the spirits. "alone in the wigwam of the spirits, where, it is said, on the fifth night in every month the spirit of a departed brave, stricken in the prime of his manhood, comes seeking the red hand of his slayer,--here alone you shall keep watch through the black hours of the night. thus shall we know if your heart be indeed the heart of the lenape; if you are of the stuff of which delaware warriors are made; if our ears have heard truly or if they have indeed been filled with the foolish chatter of a whisky jack (canada jay). "if you meet this trial as a warrior should, making neither sign nor sound, whate'er befall, then will the delawares receive you with open arms, no longer a paleface, but a true son of the tortoise, a blood brother, for whom a place in the council chamber is even now ready." turning to the shadowy group squatting in silence he threw out both arms dramatically. "sons of the lenape, do i speak truly?" he demanded. a chorus of guttural grunts signified assent. turning once more to the captive the speaker asked: "paleface, are you prepared to stand the test?" as the harangue had proceeded walter recalled that during the afternoon he had heard vague references to a haunted cabin across the lake. now the conviction was forced upon him that this was the place in which he was to be left to spend the night alone. in spite of himself a shiver of something very like fear swept over him, for the mystery of the night was upon him. but he had firmly resolved not to show the white feather. then again he was possessed of a large bump of sound common sense, and he felt certain that if, when left alone, he gave way to fear, sharp eyes and ears would be within range to note and gloat over it. in fact he shrewdly suspected that spies would be watching him, and that his solitude would be more apparent than real. he therefore replied: "i am ready." thereupon the leader gave some brief directions to the band, of whom all but two trailed off in single file and disappeared in the blackness of the forest. presently he heard the faint clatter of paddles carelessly dropped in canoes, and surmised that his late companions were embarking for camp. a few minutes later the hoot of a horned owl came from the direction they had taken. this seemed to be a signal for which his guard had been waiting. once more the bandage was placed over his eyes, and he was led for some distance along an old tote road. at length a halt was called. his legs were bound and he was picked up and carried a short distance. although he could see nothing he was aware by the change of air that they had entered a building. he suspected that this was the haunted cabin. he was deposited on a rough board floor with what appeared to be a roll of old burlap beneath his head. he was told that his hands and feet would be freed of their bonds, but he was put upon his honor not to remove the bandage from his eyes for half an hour. "keep your nerve, son, and don't sit up suddenly," was whispered in his ear. he could not be sure, but he had a feeling that the speaker was woodhull, and to himself he renewed his vow that, come what might, he would not show the white feather. he heard his captors silently withdraw and then all was silent. cautiously he felt around him. sticks and bits of bark littered the floor. rough hewn logs shut him in on one side, but on the other as far as he could reach was open space. feeling above he found that there was not room to sit upright, and he thanked his unknown friend for that last timely warning. the silence grew oppressive. it was broken by a light thump on the roof, followed by the rasp of swift little claws. "squirrels," thought walter, after the first startled jump. gradually he became aware of a feeling that he was not the only tenant of the cabin. once he heard something that sounded very like a long drawn sigh. he held his breath and listened, but there was not another sound. what were those tales he had heard of the cabin being haunted? he tried to recall them. how far from the camp was he? would they come for him in the morning or would he have to find his way in alone? in spite of his strange surroundings and lively imagination walter found difficulty in keeping awake. outraged nature was asserting herself. there had been little sleep for more than twenty-four hours, and now even the uncertainty of his position could keep him awake no longer. in fact he had not even removed the bandage from his eyes when he fell sound asleep. he was awakened by having this suddenly snatched off. for a few minutes he blinked stupidly while a mighty shout from the entire wigwam greeted him: "oh, warrior, tried and true, we hereby welcome you! we like your nerve! we like your sand! a place you've won within our band. you've won your feather fair-- you are a del-a-ware!" then walter was hauled forth and shaken hands with and thumped and pounded on the back by a whooping, laughing crew of boys in all stages of undress. it was broad daylight and, to his amazement, walter found he was not in the haunted cabin but in his own wigwam, where he had spent the night on the floor underneath his own bunk. the boys, noting the expression of his face, shouted afresh and mercilessly guyed him till presently, realizing how completely he had been duped, he wisely joined in the laugh at his own expense. reveille had sounded. buxby joined him at the wash bench, and on the way to mess explained how the initiation was worked. when he had been placed in the canoe they had simply paddled around near camp for half an hour. he had then been led over an old trail to an opening near, but out of sight of the camp, and there woodhull, in the character of the indian chief, had delivered the harangue. at its conclusion all but the guard had gone to the wigwam and at once turned in, one of them first slipping down to the lake and rattling the paddles, afterward giving the owl signal. the guard had then led him back to the wigwam and put him under his own bunk, where the floor had been strewn with chips and bark to fool him when he felt around, as they had foreseen he would. "you're all right, upton, and say, wasn't louis a lulu?" concluded the garrulous billy. at mess walter realized that he had "made good," and was already accepted as one of themselves by the merry crew of sun-browned youngsters amongst whom he had come a total stranger less than twenty-four hours before. most of all he prized woodhull's quiet "good boy," as he saluted him at the door. chapter v the recall "oh, you delaware!" "come tell us that tale of the singing bird!" "looks pale; must have seen a haunt!" "got your goat with you?" "come join the young men at their council fire!" walter grinned at the good-natured chaff of a group of boys squatting in front of a shelter tent pitched on the shore of the lake. "where's the fire?" he asked. "what!" cried tug benson. "is he coming among us with the eyes of a paleface?" he spread his hands above the ashes of a long dead fire as if warming them. "and here," he added in an injured tone, "we've been sitting for an hour roasting that loon he heard last night, that he might feast with us. now he doesn't even see the fire!" he gave an exaggerated sniff. "he's done to a turn." "which?" asked billy buxby innocently. "walt or the loon?" "both," said spud ely with conviction. "say, upton, tell us about that scrap." "nothing to tell," replied walter. "modest, though mighty, as becomes a son of the tortoise," commented tug. "say, walt, did he have light curly hair and a front tooth missing?" "now you mention it, i believe he did," replied walter. "pat malone!" exclaimed tug triumphantly. "sure thing. say, fellows, pat's been hanging 'round camp for the last three or four days; what do you suppose he's after?" "looking for a chance to swipe something," said billy. "aw stow it, billy! pat's tough all right, but that doesn't make him a thief," said chip harley. "i saw pat talking with hal harrison up on the old scraggy trail just at dusk the other night," broke in ned peasely. "they seemed mighty 'fraid of being seen. wonder what's up?" "oh, probably hal's trying to impress on the natives a sense of his own importance and the power of the almighty dollar," said spud. "cut it out, spud," advised tug. "hal's all right. some day he'll forget he's the son of a millionaire. he's got good stuff in him." "sure thing," said chip. "say, did you know that he brought in another record fish this morning? six-pound small-mouth bass. that's what gets my goat. here he is, a tenderfoot, and yet he's putting it all over the fellows that have been here two or three years. he's rolling up points for the senecas to beat the band. say, i'll bet that pat malone has put him next to some secret fishing ground or new bait or something." "speaking of angels----" said billy. walter looked up with the others to see a boy of perhaps fifteen passing on the trail up from the lake. he wore the regulation camp dress, but there was something in his bearing, a suggestion of superiority, a hint of condescension in his curt nod to the group around the tent, that gave walter the feeling that he considered himself a little above his companions. yet, withal, there was something likable in his face, despite a rather weak mouth and the shifty glance of his eyes. instinctively walter felt that tug was right, and that beneath the supercilious veneer there was the stuff of which men are made, submerged now by self-indulgence and the misfortune of being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, as tug expressed it. "hear you've put another over on us. say, hal, put us wise to that private preserve of yours, will you?" called the irrepressible billy. "do a little scouting and find one for yourself," retorted hal, passing on up the trail. "i have it! we will do a little scouting. we'll trail him 'til we find out where he gets those big fish. what do you say, fellows?" "that we'll do nothing of the kind." the words were spoken quietly, but with a note of authority and finality that admitted of no contradiction. the boys turned to find woodhull in their midst. unseen he had come up just in time to hear billy's last words. they all saluted the chief, and then billy, who never was known to let the chance for an argument pass, took up the subject again. "why not, louis?" he demanded. "i thought it was a scout's duty to always keep on the trail of an enemy." "meaning whom?" asked woodhull. "why, harrison, of course. isn't he a seneca, and aren't the senecas the enemies of the delawares?" "wrong again, billy," responded the chief. "the senecas are rivals, not enemies of the delawares, and we are going to beat 'em to it in fair and open contest--if we can. but they are brother scouts, members of woodcraft camp as we are. just pin that in your hat. of all contemptible beings the most contemptible is a spy, save in actual warfare. no, my son, if hal has been smart enough to beat us all at locating the hiding-places of big fish he is entitled to the honors. put your powers as a scout to work and find the fish for yourself, my son; but no spying on fellow scouts. "tug, suppose you take upton out to the swimming raft and try him out. you know the hurons drew a prize in hampton, who came in last week. billy, i've got a bit of surveying to do on the little knob trail, and i need a rod man. are you on?" "you bet! you know i'd follow you to the north pole, louis," replied billy, rising with alacrity. tug and walter started for their tights, while the others continued to sprawl lazily around the tent. "the chief's right," said spud meditatively. "it wouldn't be a square deal to spy on hal. just the same i'd like to know where he gets those fish. you don't suppose----" he broke off abruptly. "you don't suppose what?" asked chip. "oh, nothin'!" "come, spud, out with it! what don't you suppose?" spud clasped his hands about his knees and gazed thoughtfully into the fireplace. "what does hal do with all his spending money?" he demanded abruptly. chip looked up, startled. "you don't mean, spud, that you think for a minute he----" "no, i don't," spud broke in. "i don't believe there's a fellow in camp low down mean enough to try to win points with things he'd bought. but why couldn't he have hired some one to put him next--guide for him?" the boys considered this in silence for a few minutes. "aw, forget it, spud," advised chip. "hal wouldn't do that. he's got us going, and we're sore, that's all. let's take a canoe and try for that big laker you lost the other day." "i'm with you," replied spud promptly. "bet he don't get away from me again!" meanwhile walter and tug had paddled out to the raft, where boys from both wigwams were enjoying a morning swim. walter was a fair swimmer, but he soon found that tug quite outclassed him. as a matter of fact tug was the star swimmer of the tribe, and in the water was as much at home as a fish. he watched walter critically for a few minutes. "you'll do best at long distance," he decided. "we'll put you in for the quarter mile. you're rotten on the crawl, and the crawl's the only thing for the hundred yards. you've got something to learn on that overhand, too. you fight the water too much. you don't get in your full power, and when you try to hit it up you waste your strength. here, let me show you!" with a clean-cut dive tug left the raft, and walter watched with admiration, not unmixed with envy, the powerful yet easy overhand strokes that sent the swimmer through the water without apparent exertion, yet at a speed that made his own best efforts seem hopeless. tug regained the raft, and walter noted that he was breathing as easily as if he had not been in the water at all. "say, tug, will you coach me?" he asked eagerly. "surest thing you ever knew! that's what i'm here for," was tug's hearty reply. "but you've got to keep at it every day. no soldiering, and, kid, no getting mad when i throw the hooks into you! if we can get even a third in the quarter we'll pretty near break even with the hurons. the algonquins have only one man we're really afraid of, and the senecas don't cut much ice in the water, but are all to the good on it." "paddling?" asked walter. "yep," replied tug. "they've got a great tandem team, and a four i'm afraid we can't touch at all. and then you know they've got a long lead on points for fish, thanks to harrison. by jove, i should like to know where he gets those big fellows, and what bait he uses. he's mum as an oyster." just as they stepped into the canoe to paddle back to camp the notes of a bugle rang clear and full across the water. "hello!" exclaimed tug, pausing to look over the camp. "that's the 'recall.' wonder what's up. that means everybody report at once. hit her up, kid!" as soon as the canoe touched shore the boys sprang out and turned it bottom up on the beach. as they hurried up to headquarters boys were pouring in from all directions, on every face a look of wondering curiosity. the recall was sounded only in case of an emergency. when the last straggler within sound of the bugle had hurried in, dr. merriam stepped from the office. his face was very grave as he studied the expectant faces turned toward him. an instant hush fell over the waiting boys. "scouts of woodcraft camp," began the doctor slowly, and it seemed as if he measured each word as he spoke, "i have had the recall sounded because of a discovery made an hour since--a discovery unprecedented in the annals of woodcraft camp. it is that there is or has been a thief in our midst." he paused for an instant while his keen eyes scanned the startled faces before him. then with one of his rarely beautiful smiles he added, "but i do not believe that any member of this camp is guilty." instantaneous relief rippled over the faces before him and the doctor, noting it, smiled again. then once more his face grew grave and stern, as he continued: "for some days little things have been missed around headquarters. that they were stolen we have not been willing to believe, preferring to think that they had been mislaid. but this morning occurred a loss which admits of no doubt that there has been a thief in camp. you all remember the little gold clasp pin in the shape of a maltese cross, set with three small diamonds, which mrs. merriam always wears at her throat?" the boys nodded. they would have been poor scouts indeed had they not noticed the one bit of jewelry which "mother" merriam allowed herself in camp. "this morning mrs. merriam laid the pin on the sill of the north window of her room. five minutes later she went to get it, but it was not there. nor was it on the ground outside or on the floor inside. the actual value is not great but, because of sentimental associations, the value is not to be computed in dollars and cents. to mrs. merriam that little pin is priceless. i have called you together to tell you of this loss, believing that there is not one among you but will gladly give of his time and best endeavor to discover the thief and secure if possible the return of mrs. merriam's valued keepsake. i ask each one of you to report to me privately any suspicious circumstances he may be aware of or may discover. that is all." the boys at once broke into excited groups. that there could be a thief among them was inconceivable. still, there had been few strangers in camp, two or three guides and a few lumber-jacks passing through, and all of these above suspicion. chip harley joined walter and tug, and the three walked on in silence. it was broken by chip. "say, fellows," said he, "you remember what was said about pat malone this morning? well, he was in camp just afterward." "how do you know?" asked tug. "saw him," said chip. "he came in while you fellows were swimming. left a message for tom mulligan. when he left he took the trail up past headquarters." tug and walter considered this information soberly. "looks bad," said tug. "shall you report to the big chief?" "i don't know," replied chip. "it's suspicious, any way you look at it." "don't do it yet," said walter. "you haven't got any real evidence, you know. and let's not say anything about it to the other fellows. it does look mighty suspicious, but i don't believe that a fellow who would take a licking and then get up and shake hands the way pat did with me would steal. let's do a little scouting before we say anything. what's the matter with us three working together on this thing?" "good!" agreed tug. "each night we'll get together and report all clues discovered. gee, but i'd like to find that pin for mother merriam!" "you bet!" said walter. "and i'd like to clear pat, too," he added to himself. the three shook hands on the compact, and separated to look for clues. true to their agreement, they said nothing about pat. but others had seen the sawmill boy in camp, and by night there was a pretty general conviction that pat was the thief, so easy is it for mere suspicion to pose as truth. a few of the more hot-headed were for rounding pat up the next day and forcing him to confess, but wiser council prevailed, and it was agreed that pat should be left alone until real evidence against him was produced. after evening mess chip, walter and tug met in a quiet corner to report. "well?" said tug. "footprints," said chip sententiously. "found 'em leaving the regular trail just north of the office, and pointing toward mother merriam's window. just about pat's size, they were. prints of the hobnails in the right showed clearly, and three are missing on the ball. sprinkled some dirt over the tracks so that no one else would find them. what did you find, tug?" "nothin', except that pat went from here straight up to the durant lumber camp," replied tug. "and you, walt?" "nothing but this," said walter, drawing the tail feather of a crow from his pocket. "found it caught in the window screen." "worse and more of it," growled tug. "pat usually has a feather sticking in that old hat of his. don't you remember?" "yep," responded chip. they sat in silence for a while, considering the evidence. "looks bad, doesn't it?" said chip gloomily. "it sure does," assented walter, "but footprints and a feather are mighty small things on which to brand a fellow a thief. let's wait till we get something else before we say anything." "right-oh!" responded tug, rising to stretch. "i'm going to turn in. nine o'clock sharp at the raft to-morrow, walt." "sure!" replied walter. then, with the sounding of "taps" the boys sought their bunks. chapter vi the specter in camp a shadow lay over woodcraft camp. the routine of daily life went on as before, but there was something lacking. the fun-making was not spontaneous. there was no enthusiasm in work or play. the old time jollying ceased. the rivalry between the tribes seemed falling into hopeless apathy. even spud ely's success in temporarily wresting the fishing honors from hal harrison and the senecas by landing a twelve-pound lake trout served to awaken no more than a passing interest. suspicion, the grimmest of all specters, strode back and forth through the camp. whenever a group of boys came together it peered over their shoulders and with bony fingers choked back laughter and song and strangled the old freedom of speech. it sat at mess, and the chill of its presence was felt in the wigwams at night. who had stolen mother merriam's pin? who? who? could it be that the thief was really one of their number? for more than a week nothing was seen of pat malone. to many, hasty of judgment, eager to rid themselves of the specter, this was construed as evidence of guilt. but still the specter would not down. the strain was telling not only on the spirits but on the tempers of the boys. under it they were becoming irritable, quick to take offense. every night tug benson, chip harley and walter met to report progress, or, rather, lack of it. finally, just a week after the sounding of the "recall," chip was sent on an errand to the durant lumber camp. as soon as evening mess was over he signaled tug and walter to meet him back of the wood-pile. there was a gleam of triumph in his eyes that belied the studied gloom of his face as he looked up to greet them. "well?" said tug. "it's pat, all right!" said chip sententiously. "are you sure? absolutely sure?" tug and walter cried together. "sure as--as--sure as i be that skeeters bite," replied chip, slapping viciously at his neck. "did you find the pin?" asked walter eagerly. "naw! you don't suppose he'd be such a fool as to have it lying around in plain sight, do you?" chip's tone indicated his supreme disgust. "but," he continued, "it's a cinch that he took it just the same. what'd we better do about it?" "how the deuce do we know, when you haven't told us your story yet? come, out with it, you tantalizing blockhead!" growled tug impatiently. chip shrugged his shoulders and grinned. "well," he began, "you know the big chief sent me over to the durant camp with a message this afternoon. after i'd delivered it i thought i'd just look round a bit, and do a little scoutin'. pat wasn't there. fact is, the whole gang was in the woods 'cept the boss and the cook. got kind of chummy with the cook, and he opened up a nice little can of his own private troubles and poured 'em out for my special benefit. "seems he ain't got much use for boys, and for pat malone in particular. nothin' special, i guess, only pat plays tricks on him and raids his cooky box pretty often. they're good cookies, all right," he added reminiscently. "well, i jollied him along," continued chip, "and went pokin' 'round like i'd never seen a lumber camp before. pretty soon i see a pair of spiked boots hanging on a nail. 'what'll you take for the boots, cookie?' says i. cookie grinned. 'them ain't mine,' says he. 'they belong to that young rascal pat malone. i reckon money wouldn't buy 'em of him. sets as much store by 'em as if they was pure gold. was give to him by one of the fellers over to your camp.'" tug looked up startled. "what's that?" he asked sharply. "you don't suppose--you--say, do you believe it could have been hal harrison?" chip grinned. "sure thing," said he. "found his name in the top of one of 'em." tug and walter looked at each other blankly, while chip went on with his tale. "when cookie wasn't looking i just naturally examined those boots a little closer, and measured 'em with a bit of string. they're just the size of those prints we found under mother merriam's window, and there's three nails missing from the soles of the right one!" he concluded dramatically. "now what do you fellers think we'd better do?" tug sat down and idly began to throw chips. "looks bad," he ventured. "bad!" snorted chip, "i call it open and shut, iron-bound, no-loophole evidence! pat's the thief, or i'll eat my shirt." "guess you'll find durant cookies better eating," said walter drily. chip looked a bit sheepish. then he slipped a hand into a capacious pocket and brought forth three crisp brown discs. "they are pretty good," he admitted as he passed one to each of the others. "might as well admit that i followed pat's lead. brought 'em along just to prove that i really was there, walt's such a doubter," he explained ingenuously. for a few minutes the boys munched the cookies in appreciative silence. when the last brown crumb had disappeared chip returned to the subject. "well, walt, what ought we to do?" he demanded. "nothing." chip got up from the chopping block and dramatically planted himself in front of walter. "say, what's chewing you, anyway?" he demanded. "you don't mean to tell us that you still think pat innocent!" "i'm not going to think him guilty until there is some proof," replied walter doggedly. "proof!" chip fairly yelped the word out. "proof! haven't i given you proof enough? what more do you want?" chip flung himself down on the chopping block in sheer disgust. "it's wholly circumstantial evidence, and--and----" walter hesitated. "and what?" demanded chip. "spit it out!" "why, the fact is----" walter hesitated again. "come on! come on! out with it!" tug broke in. "well, there is another pair of hobnailed boots of the same size in our own camp, and three nails are missing from the right one!" chip and tug stared at him blankly. then tug gave vent to a long whistle of incredulity. "say," he demanded, "what kind of a bunco steer are you givin' us, anyway? say that over again, you sawed off pocket edition of sherlock holmes!" walter was somewhat nettled and he replied rather tartly, "i said that there is another pair of boots in camp that might have made those prints." "whose are they?" chip demanded. again walter hesitated, and grew uncomfortably red in the face. "what is the honor of a scout?" he asked abruptly. "has one scout any right to cast suspicion on the honor of another scout? i don't believe that the owner of this second pair of boots knows any more than we do about mother merriam's pin, but if i should tell you who he is you couldn't help but wonder, and wondering, that kind of wondering, leads to suspicion. you couldn't help it. until this thing is cleared up you couldn't look that fellow straight in the face with quite the same feeling you do now. i didn't mean to say anything about it, but i had to to show how little real evidence pat's boots afford. by the way, chip, do you know just which nails are missing from pat's boot, and which three were lacking in those prints?" chip confessed that this was a detail he had wholly overlooked. "then that's where we all fall down on the footprint clue," said walter. "strikes me we're blamed poor scouts. the prints are gone now, and if we had both pairs of boots here what good would they do us? without knowing which nails were missing in the prints we couldn't tell which boots made 'em, and there you are! we'd simply be all the more suspicious of the owner of the second pair of boots." tug arose and impulsively held out his hand. "shake, old man! i for one don't want to know who owns those boots. my, my, this business is bad enough as it is!" he said. "them's my sentiments too," chip broke in. "it's bad enough to suspect one fellow outside the camp, and i should hate awfully to have that kind of feeling about a brother scout." walter's face cleared as the three shook hands. "i'm glad you fellows see it that way," he said. "we leave matters right where they were then, do we?" "sure thing!" tug spoke emphatically. "mum's the word. we'll just keep up our quiet little hunt and say nothin'. gee, but i would hate awfully to think that maybe some of the fellers thought i was a thief! of course i'm naturally curious about that other pair of boots, but i wouldn't listen now if you tried to tell me, for just as sure as little fishes have tails i'd get to thinkin' about that feller in a way i wouldn't want anybody to think of me. funny about those boots of pat's, ain't it? you don't suppose hal gave 'em to him to pay for---- oh, rats! there it is! it's with hal just like it would be with the owner of that second pair of boots. we don't like him. he's licked us to a frazzle fishin', and here we are suspectin' he ain't on the level. let's cut it out! say, i've got an idea!" "phew! you don't say! i wouldn't have believed it of you, tug," drawled chip. "hold it down with both hands 'til walter can identify it." tug promptly back-heeled chip and calmly sat on his head while that unfortunate helplessly thrashed on the ground and in smothered tones begged to be released. "think you can be respectful to your elders?" inquired tug, holding his seat by pinning down both arms of his victim. a smothered mumble was translated to mean assent, and chip was released. tug proceeded to explain his idea. "you remember what louis said to billy the other day? well, what's the matter with us three hanging together to beat hal at his own game? we all like fishin', and there's just as big fish in this little old lake as hal has yanked out of it. if he can find 'em we can. we've been trustin' too much to luck, same as the rest of the fellers do. my idea----" chip cleared his throat, and tug turned to glare at his erstwhile victim. but that young gentleman looked so innocent as he inquired, "what's your idea, tug?" that the latter relaxed his belligerent attitude and resumed. "my idea is that we read up about the different kinds of fish around here, their habits, what they eat, when they feed, the kind of bottom they like best and all that sort of thing. the big chief's got a lot of books about fish, and he'll be tickled silly to have us read 'em. then we'll pump big jim and tom mulligan, and do some real scoutin'--for fish instead of thieves. if hal has anything on us then we'll just naturally take off our hats to him and give him the high sign." "bully!" cried walter. "we've got just time before 'taps' to read up a little on small-mouth black bass, and we'll get away at daybreak to-morrow mornin' for our first scoutin'. i'll go right up t' the big chief's and borrow the book. tug, you go hunt up louis and get permission for the three of us to take a canoe and leave before mess, and, chip, you hustle over and bamboozle cookie into puttin' up a lunch for us." the others agreed, and the three boys separated on their several errands. as they disappeared in the gathering dusk a rough unkempt figure crawled from behind the wood-pile and watched them, an ugly frown darkening his dirty but usually good-natured face. "yez think oi'm a thafe, do yez?" he growled. "oi don't know what yez think oi shtole, fer oi didn't get here in toime ter hear ut all, but if oi iver get yez alone oi'll make yez chaw thim wurrds and shwaller thim. oi'll--oi'll----" he shook a grimy fist at the retreating figures. his eyes rested a moment on walter's square, sturdy figure and he seemed to hear again the quiet voice: "i'm not going to think him guilty 'til there's some proof." gradually his face softened. "thot bye's all roight. he's sound timber, he is," he muttered. he slipped into the blackness of the forest and presently hit the durant trail. for the most part his thoughts were as black as the shadows around him. "thafe, is ut?" he muttered to himself. "oi guess ut ain't healthy fer the loikes av me around thot camp. what roight have th' loikes av thim ter be callin' me a thafe jist because oi'm poor an' live in the woods? what roight have they to be callin' me a thafe, an' me wid no chance ter say a wurrd? what show's a bye loike me got, anyway? whin thot walt bye licked me he said oi ought ter be a bye scout, an' oi'd begun ter think ut must be somethin' foine. but if this is the way they be afther doin', callin' a bye a thafe widout him iver knowin' what's been shtole, oi want nothin' ter do at all, at all wid bye scouts. oi wonder what thot honor bus'ness is thot walt bye talked so much about. oi'll pump thot bye wid his pockets full av rocks an' see what he knows about ut." abruptly his thoughts reverted to the fishing pact he had overheard and slowly a grin crept among the freckles. "goin' ter bate harrison, be yez?" he slipped a hand into a pants pocket and clinked some loose change there. "oi wonder now, have yez got the price? oi guess yez don't know what yez be up aginst. jist the same oi'd loike thot walt bye ter win out." a sudden thought struck him. "oi wonder now wud he----" he took a silver dollar from his pocket and held it up so that a ray from the rising moon was thrown up from it in a bright gleam. "no," he said, "no, oi don't belave he wud, though why not oi don't see at all, at all." he rapidly strode forward to the bunkhouse, and for once forgot to play a good-night trick on the long-suffering cook. the moon crept higher and higher. it filtered through the great forest and touched the white birches with ghostly gleam. it looked down upon a thousand tragedies among the little people of the night. it bathed the two camps in silvery light, and all unconscious of the greater tragedy in the hearts of men, it caressed into points of living flame the tiny diamonds in mother merriam's pin. but there was no one there to see, and for a few hours even the specter in the wigwams slept. chapter vii first lessons walter's skill with his camera gradually won for him the distinction of being the best photographer in camp. when, therefore, he somewhat diffidently told chief woodhull of his ambition to secure some flashlight views of deer the chief listened attentively to the plans suggested for securing them, and promised to lay them before dr. merriam. imagine walter's delight when on the following day the big chief sent for him, and after close questioning informed him that it was arranged for him to make a two days' trip to lonesome pond with big jim for the purpose of trying for the coveted photographs of wild deer in their native haunts. it was an almost unprecedented honor for a first year boy. the privilege of making such an expedition alone with one of the guides was reserved for the older boys, whose experience and training fitted them for the "roughing" which such a trip usually involved. walter fairly walked on air when he left dr. merriam to seek big jim and make the necessary arrangements. he found the guide tinkering with a jack-light. "dr. merriam says----" began walter. "i know all about it, son," interrupted the guide. "you an' me'll be pardners for a couple o' days, and we'll start before daylight to-morrow morning. rustle round now and get your picter machine ready. i reckon mr. peaked toes will be a mighty unsartin subjec', a leetle mite bashful. if you don't get him th' first shot, 'tain't likely he'll wait fer a second, so it's up to you t' hev everythin' in workin' order. run over an' tell cookie thet i want two loaves o' bread, a slab o' bacon, some butter in a wide-mouth jar, flour, salt, cocoa an' sugar fer a two days' trip. we're goin' light, so you won't need t' bring nothin' but yer fish rod, blankets, sneaks an' an extra handkercher. better turn in early, fer we want t' start at four o'clock sharp. hev cookie put up a lunch. now skip!" at quarter of four the next morning walter slipped out of the wigwam. the moon had not yet set, while in the east appeared the first faint flush of the coming day. the forest lay black and still. for a moment or two he shivered in the chill of the outer air after the warmth of the wigwam. there was a light in the guides' cabin, and thither he made his way at once. just outside the door stood a pack basket, a tightly rolled blanket lashed across it, and the handle of a frying-pan protruding from the top. big jim's favorite paddle leaned against it. as walter approached, the door opened and the guide stepped out. "hello, pard!" said he. "i was jes' comin' over t' pull yer out o' yer blankets. come in here an' hev a cup o' hot cocoa an' stow thet snack away; it's easier t' carry inside than out." when walter had gulped down the hot drink and eaten the lunch put up for him by the cook he felt ready for anything. as they took their way down the trail to the lake the hoot of a great horned owl suddenly broke the silence and wakened startled echoes on old scraggy. "whooo-hoo-hoo-hoo! whooo-hoo-hoo!" "ole fly-by-night must hev had poor huntin' last evenin'," said the guide. "do you see him, son?" walter searched the trees near at hand, but could make out nothing that resembled a bird, and his chagrin was deepened by the guide's next remark. "them books may tell yer where t' look, but they don't teach yer how t' use th' eyes god give yer. now any five-year-old born in th' woods would hev seen thet big swelled up bunch o' feathers fust thing. look at thet tall pine stump over thar t' th' right and----" "whooo-hoo-hoo-hoo! whooo-hoo-hoo!" rang the fierce cry again, and almost on the instant the top of the stump resolved into a huge, broad-winged bird, that swiftly and noiselessly dropped behind a low hemlock. a moment later it reappeared, a hare struggling in its talons, and flew heavily over toward a swamp. big jim promptly seized upon the episode to drive home a lesson in woodcraft. "pard," said he, "thar's a better lesson in the a b c o' wood life than i could give yer in a month o' talkin'. if thet hare hadn't let its narves go on th' jump, and had remembered what she ought t' hev knowed afore she was born, thet to sit tight an' not move a muscle when yer don't want t' be seen is th' first law o' th' woods, she'd be sittin' nice an' snug this very minute, instead o' stuffin' ole fly-by-night's craw. puss was narvous. the hoot startled her an' she moved jest a leetle bit. probably she rustled a leaf. them big owls is all ears. fact, son; the whole side o' th' head, pretty near, is an ear. he heared thet leaf rustle, an' he was johnny-on-the-spot in a jiffy. yer saw what happened. never make a sudden move in th' woods. sit tight if yer don't want t' be seen, or move so slowly thet nothin's goin' t' notice it. don't never ferget it! yer've jes' seen what fergettin' may cost. when yer go in th' woods leave yer narves t' hum." the pack basket and duffle were stowed in the middle of the canoe, walter took the bow seat and the guide, kneeling in the stern, for he had never outgrown his early training when canoes of his acquaintance had no seats, shot the little craft out into the lake. as they turned into the low marshy estuary which marked the outlet of the lake, the first rays of the rising sun glanced over mt. seward. once in the main channel of the river they felt the gentle force of the current, and under jim's powerful stroke they swept swiftly on. walter had been doing his full share, for he was a good paddler, but now the guide suggested that he put up his paddle and hold his camera ready for whatever they might surprise along the river's edge, or up some of the numerous setbacks. the boy put his paddle aside and, slipping a film pack into the camera, set the focus for one hundred feet. then with thumb and forefinger of his right hand on the focussing screw, ready to shorten the focus should they get within less than one hundred feet of a subject, he set himself to watch the shores. "remember now, no talkin' an' no sudden moves," cautioned the guide. alas for walter! the lesson had yet to be driven home. not five minutes later the canoe shot around a bend, and without a sound glided into a setback. almost instantly a low warning hiss from big jim put walter on his guard. the canoe seemed merely to drift, but if the boy could have seen the guide he would have witnessed a magnificent exhibition of the canoeman's art as, with paddle deep in the water and moving so slowly as to make hardly a perceptible ripple, he still kept the craft under perfect control. walter, every nerve tense, scanned the shores in a vain effort to discover the cause of the guide's warning. inch by inch the canoe crept on and still the boy saw nothing but the placid, pad-strewn surface of the water, and the forest-lined shore. presently his eager ears caught a faint splash off to his right. like a flash he turned, swinging his camera with him. the next instant he realized his mistake. with a sharp whistle of surprise and alarm a doe noisily splashed shoreward from a point not fifty yards distant, where she had been standing among the lily-pads. from the instant the canoe had first caught her attention and excited her curiosity she had remained so motionless that walter had failed utterly to pick her out from the background with which her protective coloring blended so marvelously. but the moment the boy moved she whirled for the shore, sending the water flying in a shower of silver. as the boy, in open-mouthed astonishment, watched her she lightly leaped a fallen log, and with a parting flirt of her white flag disappeared in the undergrowth. walter's chagrin was too deep for words. indeed, he was very near to tears as he realized what a rare opportunity he had missed, and how wholly his own fault it was. he did not dare look at big jim, and there was no comfort in the guide's slow, sarcastic drawl: "a clean miss, pard. did them books teach yer thet lightnin' whirl? 'pears t' me thet you an' puss back thar, keepin' company with ole fly-by-night, belong in th' same class. now if yer mem'ry had been as good as yer fergittery we'd most likely hev drifted right up t' thet thar deer. no use wastin' more time in here. some day when yer hev larned a leetle more woodcraft mebbe we'll run down an' try it agen." this surely was rubbing it in, and big jim meant it to be so. right down in his big heart he was almost as disappointed for the boy as was the boy himself, but he felt that this was the time to drive the lesson home. every word stung the chagrined young photographer like a whip-lash, and he could not trust himself to make reply. he was mortified beyond expression, for he had prided himself that he knew the value of noiselessness and motionlessness, and that when the test should come he would win golden opinions from the guide for his display of woodcraft. now, at the very first opportunity, he had failed miserably, acting like the veriest tyro, and he felt himself humbled to the last degree. had he turned he might have caught a kindly twinkle in the blue eyes watching the dejected droop of his figure, but he kept his face steadily to the front, gazing fixedly ahead, yet seeing nothing, while automatically he swung his paddle and gloomily lived over the bitterness of his mistake. they were now once more in the current, and in a matter-of-fact way the guide suggested that walter put his paddle up and be ready for whatever else might offer. as he adjusted the camera the boy resolved that this time, come what might, he would show big jim that he had learned his lesson. the opportunity came sooner than he had dared hope it would. the canoe swerved sharply toward the east bank, and presently walter made out a little brown bunch on the end of a log. with a nod of the head he signaled the guide that he saw, and then attended strictly to his end of the matter in hand. by this time the canoe was close in to the bank, so deftly handled that it would approach within twenty feet of the log before emerging from the screen of a fallen tree which the guide had instantly noted and taken advantage of. jim was paddling only enough for steerage way, allowing the current to drift them down. they were now close to the fallen tree, and the guide began to silently work the little craft around the outer end. walter had reduced the focus to twenty-five feet. as they drifted nearer and nearer to the subject he began to shake with nervous excitement, so that it was only by the exercise of all his will power that he could hold the camera steady. inch by inch they crept past the tree and walter strained his eyes for a glimpse of the old log with its little bunch of fur. he was holding his breath from sheer excitement. ha! there was the outer end of the log, and there, a foot or so back, sat a muskrat, wholly oblivious to their presence. slowly, with the utmost caution, walter turned in his seat, so slowly that it seemed ages to him. the guide had checked the canoe within less than twenty feet of the log and walter altered his focus accordingly. now in his reflecting finder he clearly saw the little fur bearer, a mussel in his paws. with a sigh of relief walter heard the click of the shutter in response to the squeeze of the bulb, held in his left hand. then as the rat made a frightened plunge, he remembered that he had forgotten to withdraw the slide before making the exposure. it is an error the novice frequently makes and that the expert is sometimes guilty of. it was, therefore, not surprising that under the stress of excitement walter should suffer this lapse of memory, but coming as it did immediately after his other fiasco, it was almost more than he could bear. big jim was chuckling delightedly over the supposed success. "reckon musky never set fer his picter afore! did he look pleasant? pard, yer sure did thet trick well. had a bit o' buck fever fust along, i reckon. thought yer seemed kind o' shaky. don't yer mind thet none. i've seen a feller with a clean open shot at a standin' deer within fifty yards wobble his rifle round so thet th' safest thing in thet neighborhood was thet thar deer. now we'll go on fer th' next." walter did not have the courage to tell the guide then of his second blunder, but resolved that when they got in camp that night he would own up like a man. for the next three miles nothing eventful occurred. then the boy got his third chance. it was a great blue heron this time. it was standing on one foot, the other drawn up until it was hidden among the feathers of the under part of the body. the long neck was laid back on the shoulders, the sharp bill half buried in the feathers of the breast. the big bird appeared to be dozing. the light fell just right, and as it was intensified by reflection from the water, walter felt sure of a good photograph. little by little the canoe drifted in. forty feet, thirty, twenty, ten--click! this time there was no mistake. working quickly but cautiously, with as little motion as possible, he pulled out and tore off the tab, set the shutter and, as the big bird spread its wings, a second click caught it at the very start of its flight. the shutter was set at the two hundredth part of a second, so that despite the nearness of the subject, walter felt reasonably certain that little movement would show in the photograph. "get him?" asked jim. "two of him," replied walter, a note of pardonable pride in his voice. "thet's th' stuff! ye're larnin' fast," said the guide, once more shooting the canoe into the current. this success went far to offset the previous failures and the boy's spirits rose. he began to enjoy his surroundings as he had not been able to since the episode with the deer. mile after mile slipped behind them, the limpid brown water sliding between the unbroken wilderness on either bank. try as he would he could not get over the impression of sliding down-hill, such was the optical effect of the swiftly-moving water. at last he heard a dull roar which increased in volume with every minute. then they rounded a sharp turn, and before them the whole river became a churning, tumbling mass of white, with here and there an ugly black rock jutting above the surface. the canoe felt the increased movement of the water and the boy's heart beat faster as the bow of the little craft still pointed straight down the middle of the river. could it be that big jim would try to run those tumbling, roaring rapids! "sit tight and don't move!" came the guide's sharp, terse command. the canoe all but grazed a great gray boulder. then dead ahead, not two inches under water, walter saw another. surely they must strike this, and then--he closed his eyes for just a second. when he opened them the canoe was just shooting through the churning froth on the edge of the rock, and that immediate danger was past. he realized then how completely the man behind him was master of the river and their craft. with fascinated eyes he watched each new danger loom up and pass almost before he realized its ugly threat. the roar of the rapids was now so loud that it drowned all other sounds. presently he became aware that they were no longer in mid-stream. with a few powerful strokes the guide shot the canoe into a back eddy and a second later it grounded lightly on a tiny sand beach where jim held it until walter could leap out and pull it up securely. "how'd yer like thet?" shouted the guide as he lifted his pack basket out. "great!" replied the boy, his eyes shining with excitement, as he helped take out the duffle. big jim adjusted the basket to his back, lashed the paddles across the thwarts of the canoe so that when they rested on his shoulders, with the canoe inverted over his head, it balanced perfectly, and leaving walter to follow with the rest of the duffle plunged into what seemed at first glance an almost impenetrable thicket of maple, birch and moosewood. walter found, however, that there was a well-defined trail, albeit a rough one. it followed the course of the river, over moss-grown decaying tree trunks, across old skidways, now firm to the foot and again a bed of oozy black swamp muck in which he sank half-way to his knees. after a mile of this they came out on the bank of the river just at the foot of the falls which marked the end of the rapids. the canoe was launched at once and in a few minutes they were again speeding down-stream. three and a half miles below they made another portage. this put them in a lake at the upper end of which a shallow stream connected with a string of three small ponds. the last of these was known as lonesome pond, and this was their destination. chapter viii lonesome pond lonesome pond was well named. a mile long by perhaps half a mile wide at its widest point, it lay like a turquoise in an emerald setting between two mountains whose upper slopes were dark with a splendid stand of spruce and pine. a magnificent growth of birch, maple and ash with an occasional pine or hemlock scattered among them grew to the water's edge, save along the southern end where they had entered. here for some distance a sphagnum swamp, dotted with graceful tamaracks, extended on either side of the narrow outlet, in places forming a natural open meadow. the pond was shallow at this end, with great masses of lily-pads, both of the white and the yellow or cow-lily. in contrast to this the shore of the upper end was bold and rocky, heavily wooded to the water's edge. here on a tiny patch of shingle, the only break in the rocky shore line, the canoe was beached. a trail led up for a hundred yards into a grove of hemlocks where, completely hidden from the lake, was the camp which was big jim's objective point. two comfortable lean-tos had been built perhaps ten feet apart and facing each other, with a stout windbreak closing one side between the two. the lean-tos were of hemlock bark, peeled from forest giants and flattened to huge sheets. these sheets formed the sides, back and steeply sloping roofs, the entire front of each, after the manner of all lean-tos, being left open. in the middle, between the two, were the charred embers of old fires, while the matted brown needles of small hemlock and balsam twigs in both lean-tos bore mute witness to the spicy, comfortable beds of other campers. a rough board table stood at one side of the fireplace. "here we be, pard," said big jim as he swung his basket to the ground. "you take this pail an' follow thet trail yonder till you find a spring, while i dig out th' grub. reckon you must be hungry. we'll hev a bit o' bacon now and a good square meal to-night." it was long past noon, and now that the excitement of the journey was over walter realized how empty his stomach was. he found the spring easily, and when he returned big jim already had his basket unpacked and was just starting the fire. he had cut two bed logs about six feet long and eight or ten inches in diameter. these he had flattened on top and one side and had placed side by side, flat sides opposite and some three inches apart at one end, spreading to ten inches at the other. between these he had built a fire of hemlock bark started with birch bark, which, by the way, is as good as kerosene for starting a fire. in a few minutes he had a bed of glowing coals over which the frying-pan was soon sizzling, and that most delicious of all odors, frying bacon, mingled with pungent wood smoke, assailed the boy's eager nostrils. by making the fireplace and fire in this way, big jim explained, the frying-pan rested on an even surface, with a steady even heat beneath it, and one could squat beside it in comfort without becoming unduly heated. at the same time the bacon was cooked thoroughly without scorching. [illustration: he had built a fire] a kettle of water was set over the coals to wash the tin plates, knives and forks when the meal was over. how good that bacon, bread and butter did taste, washed down by clear cold water! it seemed to the hungry boy that he never had eaten such a meal, its one fault being that there wasn't enough of it. but big jim laughed at him, telling him that that was only a lunch, but that he should have a real dinner at sundown. when the dishes were cleared away big jim took his axe and went back into the woods returning presently with half a dozen forked sticks of green wood. two of these about four feet long were driven into the ground, one at each end of the fireplace. across them, supported in the forks, was laid a straight young sapling which the guide called a lug-pole. then he took one of the other sticks and cut it off about three inches above the fork or crotch, leaving a good hand grasp. one branch was cut off some four inches from the fork, the other branch being left long enough so that when a small nail was driven in the end on the opposite side from the short part of the fork and the fork inverted over the lug-stick a pail hung from the nail would swing just over the coals. other sticks were made in the same way, but of varying lengths. the camp range was then complete. the long sticks (they are called pot-hooks) were for bringing a kettle close to the fire, while the shorter ones would allow of keeping things simmering without boiling or danger of burning. moreover, by simply taking up a pot-hook by the hand grasp a kettle could be moved anywhere along the lug-stick away from the hottest part of the fire without burning the hands. it was simple, quickly made, yet for all top cooking as effective as the gas range at home, and walter felt that he had learned an important lesson in woodcraft. after the dishes were cleared away big jim led the way to a balsam thicket, taking with him two straight sticks about four feet long, hooked at the lower end. with his axe he rapidly lopped over a mass of balsam twigs, showing walter how to slip them on to the long sticks so that when he had finished they had two big green spicy cylindrical piles of balsam with a hand grasp at the top to carry them by. returning to camp jim rapidly made up two beds. small boughs were laid first, overlapping so that the butts were hidden. a deep layer of the small twigs were then laid on in the same way and behold! a bed a king might covet! about four o'clock the guide told walter to rig his rod and they would go in quest of their dinner. paddling over to a cove where several springs fed the lake they drifted idly while the guide studied the various insects on and above the water. finally he told walter to rig two flies, a brown hackle for the tail and a professor for the dropper. the boy had already become fairly proficient in getting his line out cleanly and dropping his flies with that lightness which so closely simulates the falling of the living insects on the water. as yet he had seen no indications of fish, but he was impatient to try his luck. big jim, however, was lazily smoking, and walter was forced to be content with admiring the wonderful panorama of lake and mountain spread before him as they idly drifted. presently there was a splash on the edge of the shadows inshore, and then walter caught a gleam of silver as another fish broke the mirror-like surface. the fish had begun to rise. with the same noiseless stroke that walter had so much admired in the morning big jim worked the canoe shoreward toward the widening circle where the last fish had broken. at his signal walter cast, ten feet--twenty feet--thirty feet. the flies dropped lightly almost directly above the spot where they had seen the fish. hardly had the tackle touched the water when there was a swift flash of silver and with a deft twist of the wrist walter struck. with a rush the fish started for deep water, while the reel sang merrily. gently but steadily walter applied the pressure of the rod, when the first rush was checked, reeling in every inch of slack, until five minutes later he led the tired captive within reach of big jim's eager fingers, which closed in his gills and the prize was theirs, a shining half-pound spotted beauty, which the guide promptly and mercifully killed by slipping a thumb into the mouth and bending the head back till the spine broke at the neck. so they drifted alongshore, walter taking two more of about the size of the first one, and several smaller ones. as they approached a lone rock some fifty feet offshore he made a long careful cast just to the edge of the deepest shadow of the rock. the strike which followed was so fierce and the strain on the rod so great that but for the screaming of the reel walter would have been sure that he had caught a snag. but there was no mistaking the active form at the other end of the line. big jim had waked to the battle royal now in progress and was bringing to bear all his skill in the handling of the canoe. straight out into the lake shot the fish. "give him th' butt, boy, give him th' butt, but be careful!" shouted the guide. this walter did, elevating the tip of the rod until the springing little bamboo was bent almost double, the fish pulling against the full spring of the rod, clear from the butt. this served to check the rush. a period of sulking in deep water followed. then the line slackened until it hung limply from the end of the straightened rod. "he's off," thought walter, his heart sinking. but the guide was not so easily fooled. "reel, boy, reel!" he shouted, deftly turning the canoe as on a pivot. then walter waked to the fact that the fish had started a rush straight toward the canoe, hence the slack line. madly he reeled until a sharp tug that pulled the tip of his rod under water told him that he was still fast. with a sigh of relief he gently increased the pressure. "must be a four pounder, sartin," said the guide, skilfully keeping the canoe bow on. "funny he don't break water. he ought t' hev been in th' air half a dozen times 'fore this." thus far they had not had so much as a glimpse of the finny warrior. thrice he had come almost to the surface, but instead of the silver flash arching through the air, which is the joy of the fisherman, there had been no more than a sudden swirl of the placid surface, and the fish had again sought the depths. walter's wrist was feeling the strain. despite the excitement he was becoming tired. his heart was pounding with conflicting emotions, alternate hope of landing a record prize and fear of losing it. another fit of sulking gave him a few minutes' respite. when the next rush started he felt that it was weaker, nor was it as long. inch by inch he was recovering his line, not for one instant relaxing the steady strain on the fish. the rushes were short now and quickly checked. inch by inch, foot by foot the reel took up the line. at last in the clear depths he got a glimpse of a shadowy form as it started another rush. big jim had seen too. indeed, he had seen more than walter had. "two o' em, by gum!" he shouted. "steady now, pard! 'twon't be safe t' try t' land 'em in th' canoe without a landin' net. i'm goin' t' work in t' thet bit o' shingle over yonder. jes' yer keep 'em comin' an' don't let up on 'em fer a minute." the guide was right. both flies had been seized at once. by this time walter could occasionally see the two fish, and the sight brought his heart into his throat. could he save both? what a chance to score for the delawares! and what a record to send home to father! he understood now why there had been no leaping; the fish had checkmated each other. as the canoe grated on the pebbles the guide leaped over, knee-deep in the water. walter stood up and gently led the fish toward the waiting guide. so tired were they that they were almost passive, their broad tails feebly winnowing as, getting the line in his left hand, big jim drew them slowly to him. gently he sank his right arm in the water that no sudden move should startle the fish into a last frantic struggle. would he save them? walter sat down weakly, trembling with the strain and anxiety. slowly the guide's big hand slipped up the length of the fish on the dropper. the stout fingers locked in the gills, there was a deft throw--walter could never tell just how it was done--and both fish were flapping on the shore. jim threw himself upon them a second after, for his quick eye had seen that the tail fly had torn out. when he stood up he held out a fish in each hand, such fish! the young angler could hardly believe the evidence of his own eyes. "smallest'll weigh 'bout two an' a half pounds, an' t'other 'bout a pound heftier," said jim, eyeing them critically. "pard, thet's goin' some fer a beginner. reckon yer must carry a rabbit's foot in yer pocket fer luck." walter disclaimed any witch charms whatsoever as he produced the neat little spring scales which had been a parting gift from his father. these proved the accuracy of jim's guess, one being an ounce less and the other an ounce and a half more than the weights he had named. they were the true broad tails or speckled trout, commonly called brook trout (salvilinus fontinalis) than which no more beautiful fish swims. as he admired their exquisitely painted sides something very like regret for a moment subdued the boy's elation and pride, for he was one of the true nature lovers, to whom the destruction of life must ever bring a feeling of sadness. as the guide shoved off walter started to bend on a change of flies, but to this big jim quickly put a stop. "pard," said he, "no true sportsman will ever kill more'n he needs. we've got enough--all we can use. the man who kills jes' fer th' fun o' killin' ain't nothin' more'n a butcher. he'd better get a job in one o' them big slaughter-houses. when i find i'm guidin' fer one o' thet breed he most gen'rally don't hev no luck." walter felt the rebuke, but he was fair minded enough to appreciate and not resent it. nor did he ever forget it. back at camp big jim at once started preparations for dinner. going into the woods he cut a small log of hard wood about two feet long, out of which he split a slab about three inches thick. one side of this he rapidly smoothed. under his direction walter had, in the meantime, built a fire of small pieces of hard wood. this was soon a bed of glowing coals which would retain their heat for a long time, a property which soft woods do not possess, as the guide took pains to impress upon him. for this reason hardwood coals are always preferable for cooking. when the slab was smoothed to jim's satisfaction he propped it up in front of the coals. splitting the largest fish down the back its entire length, taking care not to cut through the belly, he cleaned it and wiped it dry. when the slab was hot he tacked the fish to it, skin side down, and spread full width. then the slab was once more propped in front of the fire and three strips of bacon were hung across the top so that the fat would try out and drip on the fish. when it became necessary to reverse the ends of the slab so that the fish would cook evenly the bacon was taken off and impaled on the pointed end of a small stick, it becoming walter's duty to hold this so that the drip would continue to baste the fish. while walter tended the fish the guide made a reflector according to an idea walter had given him. lashing together two sticks in the form of a t, one two and a half feet long and the other a foot long, he tacked a piece of birch about two feet wide to the ends of the t, thus forming a segment of a circle. the white side of the bark was turned in. a flat piece of hemlock bark was fitted across the sticks and a rough handle was lashed to the whole. the result was a crude but effective reflector to concentrate the light from a flash in a given direction. by the time this was finished the fish was done to a turn. a dash of salt and pepper was added, and it was ready to serve on the slab on which it was cooked. have you ever sat under the sweet smelling hemlocks, careless of all else in the world save securing your full share of the flaky pink flesh of a trout cooked in this way? if you have then your mouth is watering this very minute. if you have not--ah, why try to describe it? my advice to you is simply this: follow walter's example at the earliest opportunity. bread with butter and hot cocoa (dr. merriam tabooed coffee or tea for growing boys) completed the menu. when the dinner was finished, to the last shred of pink flesh clinging to crisp brown skin, walter felt that never before in all his life had he eaten half so delicious a meal. with dinner out of the way and camp made ready for the night they prepared to put into execution the plan which was the real object of the trip. there was no moon, for the sky was overcast, and the night promised to be very dark. this was much to jim's liking, for the blacker the night the less likelihood that the deer would see ought but the baleful, fascinating glare of the jack-light. it was nine o'clock when they left camp, walter in the bow as usual, but this time with nothing to occupy his attention but his camera and the jack-light strapped on his hat. the reflector was within easy reach of the guide, to whom walter had given careful instructions in its use. a flash, consisting of two no. cartridges, had been prepared and wires connected from a couple of electric batteries. jim had merely to press a button to fire the flash. it was agreed that walter should set his focus for one hundred feet and that, should they be lucky enough to find the deer, the judging of the distance and setting off of the flash should be left to the guide. it was weird, uncanny, that paddle down the lake, the black water beneath them and a black formless void around and above them. a dozen strokes from shore walter felt as utterly lost so far as sense of direction was concerned as if blindfolded. but not so big jim. he sent the canoe forward as confidently as if in broad daylight. the jack was lighted but not uncovered. walter became aware presently that the canoe was moving very much more slowly and he suspected that they were approaching the lower end of the pond. at a whispered word he turned on the jack. the narrow beam of light cutting athwart the darkness made the night seem blacker by contrast. very, very slowly they were moving, and there was not so much as the sound of a ripple against their light craft. the boy sat motionless, but listen as he would he could detect no smallest sound to denote the presence of his companion, much less to indicate that he was paddling. but paddling he was, and the canoe steadily crept forward. a mighty chorus of frog voices in many keys evidenced the close proximity of the meadows surrounding the outlet. as the canoe's course was altered to parallel the shore the boy cautiously turned in his seat so that the rays from the jack were directed shoreward. at that distance, even in the very center of the beam of light, the shore was but a ghostly outline, and walter wondered how it could be possible that they could see the eyes of a deer. once the heavy plunge of a muskrat made him jump inwardly, for his nerves were keyed to a high pitch. he was beginning to feel cramped from so long maintaining one position. one foot and leg had gone to sleep. but he grimly ground his teeth and resolved that, come what might, he would not move. a slight tremor on the port side of the canoe attracted his attention and he realized that big jim was shaking it, the signal agreed upon should the guide see the deer first. walter forgot his discomfort. eagerly he stared at the shore. for a few minutes he saw nothing unusual. suddenly he became conscious of two luminous points--the eyes of a deer gazing in fixed fascinated stare at the light. he could discern no faintest outline of the animal, but the eyes glowed steadily, unwinking. inch by inch the canoe drifted in. suddenly the two glowing points disappeared. walter's heart sank. had the animal taken fright? no, there they were again! the deer had merely lowered its head for a moment. a shake of the canoe warned the boy that there was something more. turning his own eyes from the two burning there in the blackness he presently became aware of two more, smaller and lower down. a second later he saw a third pair. what could it mean? could it be that the deer had enemies stalking it? what if it should be a lynx or even a panther! his excited imagination conjured up a thrilling scene. what if he could photograph it! he longed to ask the guide what it all meant, but that was impossible. slowly, slowly they drifted in toward the three pairs of eyes. walter kept his camera pointed directly at them, the shutter open, not knowing what instant the flash might go off. still they drifted in, walter as fascinated by the six glowing points as were the deer by the jack. inch by inch, inch by inch they drew nearer. would the flash never go? walter felt that he must turn and see what big jim was doing. could it be that jim had disconnected the wires and was unable to fire the flash? even as this dread possibility entered his mind the water and shore directly in front of him were lit by a blinding glare. he had an instantaneous impression of a doe and two fawns staring in curious alarm from near the shore of a wild meadow flanked by ghostly tamaracks. quite automatically he squeezed the bulb that closed the shutter. then for a few minutes he could see nothing. but he could hear the plunging of the frightened animals as they fled for the shelter of the forest, and his heart leaped at thought of what that negative in his camera must hold. "git 'em, pard?" drawled the voice of the guide. "i guess so. i don't see how i could help it. anyway, i held the camera pointed right at them," replied walter. "guess thet'll do fer to-night, son," said jim, swinging the canoe about. "shut off th' jack an' git out yer paddle. it's us fer th' blankets now!" chapter ix a shot in the dusk day breaks in the great forest in a hushed solemnity, as if all nature bowed in silent worship. the very leaves hang motionless. the voices of the night are stilled. the prowlers in the dark have slunk back to their lairs. the furred and feathered folk who people the mighty woodland through all the hours of light have not yet awakened. the peace of the perfect stillness is at once a benediction and a prayer. it was at just this hour that walter awoke. there was no sound save the heavy breathing of big jim. for a few minutes he lay peering out through a break in the bark wall of the shack. swiftly the gray light threaded the forest aisles. a rosy flush touched the top of a giant pine and instantly, as if this were a signal, a white-throated sparrow softly fluted its exquisite song from a thicket close by the camp. another more distant took up the song, and another and another until the woods rang with the joyous matins. a red squirrel chirred sharply and his claws rattled on the bark of the roof as he scampered across. a rabbit thumped twice close at hand. cautiously raising himself on one elbow walter discovered the little gray-coated fellow peering with timid curiosity into the opposite lean-to. as if this were the morning alarm big jim yawned, then sprang from his blankets. brer rabbit dived headlong for the underbrush, but the guide's quick eyes caught the flash of bunny's white tail, and he laughed good-naturedly. "why didn't you invite him t' breakfast, son?" he inquired. walter grinned as he crawled out of his blankets. "felt too bashful on such short acquaintance," he replied. "prob'ly them's his feelin's, too," said the guide, producing two rough towels from the depths of his pack basket. "now fer a wash and then breakfast." there was a sharp nip to the air that made walter shiver at the thought of what the water must be like. he dreaded that first plunge, but he said nothing, and followed big jim's lead down to the lake. to his surprise he found the water warmer than the air, as if the heavy blanket of mist in which the lake was still shrouded was indeed a coverlid provided to hold fast the warmth absorbed from the sun of yesterday. a brisk swim followed by an equally brisk rub-down banished all thoughts of chill, and just as the first low-flung rays of the rising sun burned a hole through the slowly rising vapor they started back for camp and breakfast. "you start th' fire while i rastle round th' grub," said the guide, as he once more dug down into the pack. "how will flapjacks and th' rest o' them trout hit yer fer a lining fer yer stomach, pard?" while the guide prepared the batter walter showed how well he had learned his lesson in fire building the night before. between the two big bed-logs he placed two fairly good-sized sticks about a foot apart. dry twigs and splinters were laid loosely across, and on these at one side some strips of birch bark. two more sticks were now laid across the twigs at right angles, then another layer of small sticks. the next layer of larger sticks was laid at right angles to the former. so the pile was built up, log-cabin fashion, good-sized split hard wood being used for the upper layers. touching a match to the birch bark he had the satisfaction of seeing the whole mass leap into flame in less than a minute because, built in this way, air had immediate circulation to the whole mass, free access of air being essential to a brisk fire. then again the whole would burn down together to live coals, the object to be obtained for successful cooking. in the meantime big jim had stirred up the flapjack batter and gone in quest of the trout, which had been left in a pail hung on the stub of a dead branch of a pine near by. he returned with a look of chagrin on his good-natured face. "reckon, pard, thet we've had more visitors than thet leetle cottontail we ketched a glimpse o' this mornin'. if yer ain't no ways pertic'lar you an' me will have bacon stid o' trout with them flapjacks. ought t' known thet if leetle ole mr. mink really wanted them fish he wouldn't mind takin' th' trouble t' shin up a tree. if i'd hung thet pail by a wire as i'd ought t' hev, mr. mink wouldn't hev th' laugh on us now." walter laughed at the rueful face of the guide. "how do you know it was a mink?" he asked. "'cause thar's no other critter in these here woods likes fish well enough t' use his wits thet way t' git 'em. besides, he wasn't pertic'lar 'bout coverin' up his tracks. left 'em 'round most promiscus and insultin'. say, son," he added, his face brightening with a sudden thought, "you take thet tin dipper and hit th' trail past th' big pine over yonder. keep a-goin' till yer strike a patch o' old burned-over ground. yesterday i see a lot o' early blueberries over thar. pick th' dipper full and i'll give yer somethin' t' tickle yer ribs so thet yer'll fergit all about them trout." walter took the dipper and following the trail shortly reached the burned land. sure enough, there were the berries, so plentiful that it took but a short time to fill the dipper. before he reached camp he smelt the bacon and his mouth watered. a pot of steaming cocoa hung from one of the pot-hooks, and a plate of crisp bacon rested on one end of the fore-log where it would keep warm. big jim took the dipper with a grin of satisfaction and stirred the berries into his kettle of batter. then into the sizzling hot frying-pan, well greased with bacon fat, he poured enough batter to cover the bottom, and placed it over the glowing coals before which he squatted, watching the bubbling cake with a critical eye. suddenly he lifted the pan, and with a dextrous twist of the wrist, so deftly executed that walter did not see how the trick was done, the flapjack was sent into the air, where it turned over and was caught in the pan, brown side up as it came down. it was returned to the fire all in the one motion and two minutes later, buttered and sugared, was on its way to "line walter's ribs." "well, pard, how do yer like 'em?" inquired the cook, sending another spinning over to walter's plate. "they're just the best ever!" exclaimed the boy enthusiastically. "i'm going to teach cook to make 'em when i get home. wish dad could have one of these right now. say, jim, it's my turn to fry now." the guide tossed one more to begin on while walter was frying the next, and then turned the frying-pan over to the amateur cook. big jim's eyes twinkled as the boy reached for a knife with which to turn the cake. his big hand closed over the knife first. "nobody can be a side pardner o' mine who has t' take a knife t' turn a flapjack," he drawled, "and, son, i kind o' think i'd like you fer a side pardner. thet bein' so, up she goes!" walter grinned sheepishly and gave the frying-pan an awkward toss. the required twist of the wrist was wholly lacking and, instead of turning a graceful somersault in the air, the cake shot out at an angle and landed soft side down on the very spot the guide had occupied a second before. that worthy, with wisdom born of experience, had shifted his base at the first motion of the frying-pan, and was now rolling on the ground in huge glee, his infectious laugh rolling through the camp. walter, his face crimson with more than the heat of the fire, bit his lips in chagrin which he could not hide, but being blessed with a strong sense of humor he joined in the laugh and straightway prepared to try again. this time, under a running fire of comment and advice from big jim, who solemnly assured him that in his humble opinion "the landscape ain't really a-needin' blueberry frescoes t' improve its beauty," he succeeded in sending the cake into the air within catching distance of the pan, but it lacked the impetus to send it high enough to turn completely over, and fell back in the pan in a shapeless mass. big jim cast an appraising eye at the batter kettle and, evidently considering that his chances of a square meal were in jeopardy, reached for the pan and gave walter a practical demonstration. holding the pan slanting in front of and away from him he gave it a couple of preliminary easy flaps to get the swing, then flipped boldly and sharply. it seemed the easiest thing in the world, and in fact it is when you know how. returning the pan to walter he had the latter go through the motions several times until he was satisfied. then he bade him pour in the batter and go ahead. slowly at first, then faster the bubbles broke to the surface. presently the edges stiffened and with a little shake walter felt that the cake was loose and free in the pan. getting the preliminary swing he gave the pan a sharp upward flip and a second later the cake was back over the fire, brown side up. the guide nodded approvingly. "reckon yer goin' t' be a sure enough woodsman," he said. "nobody what can't toss a flapjack has any business t' think he's th' real thing in th' woods." breakfast finished it fell to walter to wash the dishes while the guide went out to look for deer signs. cleanliness is next to godliness in camp as well as at home, and hot water is as necessary to wash dishes in the one place as in the other. walter had finished his work and was hanging the towel to dry when he heard a queer noise behind him. turning, he was just in time to see a bird about the size of a blue jay, but gray and white in color, making off with the cake of soap which he had left on a log. flying to the nearest tree it started to sample its queer breakfast. but one taste was enough. with a harsh scream, which was a ludicrous blending of disappointment, disgust and rage, it dropped the soap and vigorously wiped its bill on the branch on which it was sitting. then scolding and protesting in a harsh, discordant voice, it flew to the next tree, stopping long enough to give the bill another thorough wiping on a convenient branch, only to repeat the performance on the next tree, and so on until it disappeared in the depths of the forest. walter laughed heartily, disgust was so clearly manifest in every motion of the bird and the torrent of invective being poured out was so very plainly aimed at him personally as the author of its discomfiture. the boy had never seen a bird of this species before, but he recognized it at once from its markings, the fine silky plumage and certain unmistakable characteristics in general appearance and actions, as a member of the jay family. it was, in fact, the canada jay, perisoreus canadensis, first cousin to the blue jay, and a resident the year through of the north woods, where it is often called the moosebird. big jim returned just in time to witness the last of the performance. "whisky jack seems t' think yer ain't been usin' him just right, son," said he. "what yer been doin' t' rile him up so?" walter told him the incident of the soap, and the guide chuckled with enjoyment. "serves th' old thief right," said he. "why, i've had one of them fellers sit on my tent just waitin' fer me t' go out so's he could go inside an' steal somethin'. he'll swipe a meal out of yer plate while yer back's turned. just th' same, it's kind o' sociable t' have him neighborly if yer happen t' be all alone in th' deep woods fifty miles from nowhar, 'specially in winter." "where did he get the name of whisky jack?" asked walter. "don't know, son, unless it comes from an indian name i heered a half breed in a canada lumber camp use once. he called one o' these jays thet hed got caught tryin' t' steal th' bait from a mink trap he had set a 'whis-kee-shaw-neesh.' when yer say it quick it sounds something like 'whisky john,' an' i reckon maybe thet's where th' trappers and lumbermen got th' name 'whisky jack.' anyhow, thet's what they all call him. ever see one before?" "no," replied walter, "but i knew it was a canada jay as soon as i saw it. you see i had read all about it in a bird book," slyly putting just the least emphasis on the word book. big jim grunted and then abruptly changed the subject. "been a-lookin' fer signs o' mr. peaked toes, an' they ain't none too plentiful. if it was two months later i should say this country hed been hunted hard. i wonder now----" he paused abruptly to gaze into the fireplace with an air of deep abstraction. "what do you wonder?" asked walter when the silence became oppressive. big jim reached for his pipe. "i wonder," said he slowly as with his fingers he deftly transferred a hot coal from the embers to the bowl of his pipe, "i wonder if some o' them sneakin' low-lived poachers ain't been a-killin' deer out o' season right round these here parts. durant's lumber camp has been havin' a right smart lot o' fresh 'veal' all summer, an' some one's been supplyin' it. you an' me will have a look around on th' ridges this morning--take a kind o' census, mebbe. this afternoon we'll have another try at th' trout t' make up fer those mr. mink had fer breakfast." while the guide exchanged his heavy boots for a pair of moccasins walter slipped on a pair of sneaks, for he realized that this was to be a still hunt, the highest form of sportsmanship, a matching of human skill against the marvelous senses of the most alert and timid of all the animals that live in the forest. it was to be his first deer hunt, for the jacking expedition of the night before could hardly be dignified by the name of hunt, the advantage lying so wholly with the hunters. now, however, the advantage would be reversed, lying wholly with the hunted, with ears trained to detect the smallest sound, suspicious of the mere rustle of a leaf, and with nostrils so acutely sensitive that they would read a dozen messages in the faintest breeze. it was still early and big jim at once led the way to the foot of a series of low ridges above a swamp that flanked one side of the pond, explaining as they went that deer are night feeders, coming down to the lowlands at dusk and spending the night in the swamps, and along the watercourses. "'bout now they'll be workin' back t' higher ground, till along 'bout ten o'clock they'll be well up on th' hardwood ridges where they'll lay up fer th' day, snoozin' behind a windfall or thick clump o' evergreens. then 'long 'bout four o'clock they'll git movin' agin, an' pretty quick begin t' work back t' low ground and a drink," said the guide. "now, pard," he continued, "yer watch them feet o' yourn, and put 'em down 'sif this here ground was made o' egg-shells. look out fer twigs and dead sticks. snap one o' 'em and it's good-bye mr. peaked toes! when i stop jest you stop, freeze in yer tracks, till i move on agin. guess yer larned yer lesson yesterday 'bout sudden movin'." by this time they were skirting the foot of one of the ridges and big jim moved forward slowly, his keen eyes searching the ground for signs, and sharply scanning the thickets. it was wonderful to the boy a few feet behind to note how without any apparent attention to where he was stepping each foot was planted surely and firmly without the rustle of so much as a leaf. it seemed as if the big moccasins were endowed with an intelligence of their own, and picked their way among the scattered litter of dead sticks without attention from the man whose huge form and heavy weight they bore so lightly. walter himself found that it required every bit of concentration of which he was capable to watch his path and at the same time keep an eye on his companion that he might be prepared to "freeze" should the latter stop suddenly. it was a nervous strain that rapidly became fatiguing in the extreme. he could not relax for an instant to look about him, lest in an unguarded moment there should be a fateful snap underfoot. he wondered if it could be possible that he would ever acquire that seemingly instinctive art of still walking which is inborn in the indian and has become almost a sixth sense in the trained woodsman. it was a relief when big jim suddenly stopped and pointed to a bit of soft ground just ahead of them. there, clearly defined, were the v shaped imprints of sharp-edged little cloven hoofs. the guide studied them a moment. "doe crossed here within five minutes," he whispered. "how do you know?" asked walter, imitating the guide's guarded whisper. "know it's a doe by th' size." he stooped and pointed to a slight film of moisture on the edge of one of the prints and even as he did so a tiny particle of wet soil loosened and fell. had more than five minutes elapsed the edges would have slightly dried out, and walter was enough of a scout to realize this and understand the significance of what he saw. the guide scanned the side hill to the right. "watch that old windfall," he whispered. walter looked in the direction indicated and studied the tangle of fallen timber a hundred yards away, but for the life of him he could make out nothing that in any way resembled an animal. a slow smile dawned on the good-natured, sun-browned face watching him. then slowly big jim stooped and picked up a good-sized stick, which he broke in his hands with a sharp snap. instantly there was a startled whistle, followed by a sudden crash at one end of the fall, and walter caught a glimpse of two slim reddish-brown legs and a white "flag" ridiculously like a magnified edition of the little bunch of cotton which had been his last glimpse of brer rabbit early that morning. there were two or three diminishing crashes beyond the windfall and then all was still. walter turned to look at the guide, whose mouth was broadly stretched in a hearty but noiseless laugh. "did you see her all the time?" he whispered. big jim nodded. "sure," he replied. "yer see, son, yer was lookin' fer somethin' thet wasn't thar--mrs. lightfoot right out on full dress parade like yer've seen 'em in a park, mebbe, and o' course yer didn't see her. now i was lookin' fer jest a leetle patch o' red, which couldn't nohow be leaves at this season o' year, and i see it right away. yer most generally see what you're lookin' fer--if it's thar. in the woods th' thing is t' know what t' look fer." his face clouded suddenly as he continued. "i don't nohow like th' way she dusted out. if it was th' huntin' season i wouldn't think nothin' o' it. but it ain't, and she ought not t' hev run more'n a couple o' hundred yards afore she got so blamed curious thet she'd hev stopped and then come a-sneakin' back t' see what had given her thet sudden attack o' heart disease. she was sure scared, and she's been worse scared quite lately." they resumed their tramp in the same cautious manner as before, finding several old tracks and two or three fresh ones, to none of which big jim gave more than a moment's attention. then they ran across a trail which, from the size of the prints, walter knew must have been made by a big buck. the guide wet a finger and carefully tested the direction of the wind, which was so faint as not to be perceptible to the dry skin. satisfied that the trail led directly into the wind he started to follow it, explaining as they went along that had the trail led down wind it would have been useless to waste time following it, for the game would have scented them long before they were near it. the course now led up to higher ground and only such trained eyes as the guide's could have picked it out. as they approached the top of the ridge big jim suddenly left the trail and made a wide détour to the left, then circled back to the top of the ridge, along which he led the way with the utmost caution, stopping at every step to study the landscape in front and below. finally in the shelter of a young hemlock he stopped and nodded for walter to join him. "look in thet thicket o' young hemlocks a couple o' hundred yards down from th' top o' the ridge," he whispered. walter looked as directed, but for a few minutes could make out nothing unusual. then he recalled his lesson earlier in the day and looked for a "patch o' red." almost at once he saw it, low down under the hemlocks, and by looking intently soon made out the form of the buck lying down in unsuspicious contentment. "foxy old mr. peaked toes has been clear up on top o' th' ridge an' then doubled back and laid down whar he can watch his back track," whispered the guide. "but we've fooled him this time." for a few minutes they watched him. then the hush of the great forest was abruptly broken by the alarm notes of a crow, so close at hand that walter instinctively looked up, expecting to see the black mischief maker above their heads. but no bird was to be seen, and a glance at big jim's grinning face told him that the crow was none other than the guide himself. when his glance once more returned to the buck it was to behold a lordly animal standing with his magnificent head, crowned with ten point antlers still in the velvet, thrown up, his sensitive nostrils testing the wind for trace of possible danger. for a few minutes he stood motionless, ears forward to catch the least sound, big soft eyes searching the hillside, delicate nostrils expanded and a-quiver in the effort to read some warning in the air. so the king stood, suspicious but not alarmed, a royal animal in the full vigor of maturity. satisfied that ears and eyes and nose could detect no danger, but still suspicious, he suddenly bounded behind the hemlocks, clearing a fallen tree with a leap which was a marvel of lightness. the thicket shut him from their view, but presently big jim called walter's attention to a slight movement of bushes far up along on the ridge. "he's making a sneak t' high ground whar he can have a better look around. then he'll make a big circle t' try the wind from all quarters. did yer notice that scar on his shoulder? he's been burned thar by a bullet or had an ugly tear in a scrap with another buck. son, you've seen th' king o' lonesome pond. i've tried fer him for th' last three years in th' open season, but th' old rascal knows as well as i do when th' huntin' season begins and he's too smart fer me. no walkin' up on him then like we did to-day! i'd like t' get him and yet--well, fact is i'd hate t' see him dead. he sure is a king! now fer camp an' lunch an' then a try fer them trout. son, yer'll make a still hunter one o' these days, and, son, don't yer never fergit thet still huntin' is th' only real sportin', square deal way o' huntin' deer." these few words of approval from his companion amply rewarded the boy for his long effort to "keep his feet in the way they should go" and now as they tramped rapidly toward camp he felt within him for the first time the sense of mastery and self-reliance which is ever the woodsman's best reward. in the afternoon fishing walter failed to equal his record catch of the day before, but nevertheless landed some handsome trout, and they soon had all they could use. after an early supper the guide led the way to a deer run only a short distance from camp, where, he said, the animals were in the habit of coming down to drink. here at one side in a position to command an unobstructed view of a part of the run walter set up his camera, masking it with branches broken from the surrounding trees. a flash was arranged to be exploded by an electric spark from two dry cells which had been brought along for the purpose. a stout thread was fastened across the run in such a way that an animal passing up or down must strike it and the adjustment was such that the least pull would make the necessary contact and set off the flash. "thar's a couple o' other runs close by, and it's all a chance whether a deer will take this partic'lar run, but i think th' chance is good," said the guide. back at camp the guide put out the fire lest the smell of smoke should alarm the game. then they sat down to wait, big jim whiling away the time with stories of hunting and adventure which set the boy's pulses to faster beating. swiftly the shadows crept through the woods and dusk settled over the landscape. through the tree tops walter caught the gleam of the first star. "ought not t' be long now 'fore thar's somethin' doin'," said the guide. almost with the words the report of a rifle rang out from the lake in the direction of the run where the camera was set, and rolled in heavy echoes along the mountain. big jim was on his feet in an instant, his face contorted with rage, while he shook a brawny fist in the direction of the shot. "you hound, i'd wring yer blasted neck fer two cents!" he muttered. then he turned to walter and shook his head sorrowfully as he said, "it ain't a mite o' use t'-night, son. thet shot hit th' narves o' every deer within two miles o' here. might as well go bring in th' camera. i been sartin all day thet some such mischief as this was afoot. we didn't see half th' number o' deer we'd ought to this mornin' and them was so skeery thet i suspicioned they was bein' hunted right along. guess when we git back t' woodcraft we'll hev t' notify th' game warden and do a little still huntin' fer bigger game than peaked toes. reckon i could guess who th' feller is, but i ain't got no proof, not a mite. if yer was t' leave thet picter box out all night yer might ketch one 'long just 'fore daybreak," he added as an afterthought. walter agreed to this, and they set about preparing for the night, when both were startled by a distant flare of light. "the flash!" cried walter joyously. "you guessed wrong that time, you old croaker!" big jim's face was a study. "reckon i did, pard," he drawled. "must be one deer round these parts what is plumb foolish in her head. well, we'll go bring in th' camera." in a few minutes they reached the run. sure enough the thread was broken and the flash sprung. walter at once slipped in the slide, and gathering up the apparatus they returned to camp, the boy in high spirits, but big jim in unwonted soberness. chapter x a battle for honor reaching woodcraft late the next afternoon walter at once hurried to the dark room adjoining dr. merriam's office to develop his plates. to his dismay he found that needed chemicals for fresh developer were lacking, and he was unwilling to risk his plates in the old and necessarily weak developer on hand. there was nothing for it but to possess himself in such patience as he could until a fresh supply could be obtained from the city. dr. merriam promised to send at once. leaving big jim to report to the doctor the results of their trip walter sought the wigwam. he found tug rewinding his split bamboo and billy buxby assisting with a ceaseless stream of unheeded advice. "behold the mighty hunter!" exclaimed billy with an exaggerated bow of mock deference as walter entered. "what luck?" asked tug, as he tied the final knot and reached for the shellac. walter rapidly sketched a brief account of his two days at lonesome pond, but in his enthusiasm over the deer hunt forgot to mention his double catch of trout. "anything new here?" he asked finally. tug shook his head. "nothin' much. harrison came in with a three-pound brook trout this morning, and unless some one gets in to-night with something better that will give the senecas the score for this week. say, the gloom in this little old shanty is something fierce. if it was any one but harrison there'd be no kick comin'. he's gettin' such a swelled head he can't see anybody outside his own tribe. i'd like to punch it for him," growled tug savagely. "say," he added as he looked up, "what's the matter with you, you grinning cheshire cat?" "nothing much," replied walter, "only day before yesterday i landed a double, for a total of five pounds; brook trout, too." tug and billy fell on him as one. "say it again! say it again!" begged tug as they pinned walter to the floor and sat on him. "i got two trout at one cast, and they weighed five pounds. does that beat it?" gasped walter, giving up the struggle. "counts same as one fish," whooped billy joyously. "well, we win anyway, for one of them weighed over three and a half," said walter, giving a sudden heave that sent billy sprawling. "now what's the matter, you old gloom chaser?" "walt, you ain't foolin', are you? tell me, you rabbit-footed tenderfoot, have you got proof?" implored tug. "big jim's word for it, and a photo," replied walter. tug's face cleared. "that's good enough. oh, my eye, wait till that record is posted to-night!" he chortled. tug was not disappointed. the record held, and the delawares celebrated that night with a bonfire and war dance in which walter, to his confusion, found himself the central figure. harrison's chagrin was too evident to escape notice, and his defeat was rubbed in with a malice born of his growing unpopularity. the next morning when walter met him and offered his hand hal passed on as if the other lad were a stick or a stone. the insult was witnessed by several delawares and by members of hal's own tribe. that night a meeting of indignation was held by the delawares, and in spite of walter's protest and the efforts of woodhull and one or two of the older boys, it was voted to send harrison to coventry so far as the delawares were concerned, that is, he was not to be spoken to or recognized in any way. in his own wigwam hal was only a degree less unpopular. the leaders tried to induce him to make an apology, pointing out to him that he was violating both the spirit and word of the scout's oath, but the effort was without avail. the high-strung, undisciplined boy, accustomed from babyhood to having his own way, fawned upon by all with whom he had hitherto come in contact because of his father's great wealth, was utterly unable to adjust himself to the new conditions which surrounded him, to the democracy of which he was now a part yet of which he had no understanding. so he went his headstrong way, and if in his heart were bitterness and misery he made no sign. the senecas stood by him with half-hearted loyalty because he was a fellow tribesman, but there was not one whom he could call a friend. so he became more and more isolated, spending his days fishing, the proudest, loneliest boy in all the big camp. the fact that he continued to score with big fish gave him a measure of standing with his tribe, and to maintain this became his chief object in the daily life. walter was thinking of this and wondering what the outcome would be as early one morning he headed his canoe for a setback some three miles from camp, which he had discovered the day before. the entrance was so hidden in a tangle of alders and brush that it was only with the greatest difficulty that he could pick out the channel. he had passed the spot dozens of times without suspecting that anything lay beyond. patiently and carefully he worked his way through the tangle, once having to get out and lift the canoe over a jam of a dozen stranded logs. beyond this the channel was comparatively clear. unexpectedly it abruptly opened into a broad body of water perhaps half a mile long, deep in the middle, and with the upper end covered with an acre or more of lily-pads. walter's eyes sparkled. "gee, i bet there's pickerel in here!" he exclaimed, unconsciously speaking aloud. "bet yer life thar is," said a voice with a chuckle. walter turned to find a rude raft anchored behind the half submerged top of a fallen hemlock, and on it sat pat malone, catching young striped perch for bait. "hello!" exclaimed walter. "what are you doing here?" "seem ter be fishin'," replied pat, a broad grin spreading across his freckled face. walter grinned in return. "well, what are you catching?" he asked. "mostly fish--some skeeters," was the prompt retort. pat lifted a wriggling three-inch perch from the water. "do you call that a fish?" asked walter. "mebbe it is an' mebbe it isn't," said the lumber boy as he dropped the victim into a battered old pail half filled with water. "how about this?" he reached behind him and held up at arm's length a huge pickerel. walter allowed a long low whistle of admiration escape him. "are there any more like that in here?" he asked eagerly. "shure," replied pat. "that's nothin' but a minnie 'longside some old whopperlulus in here." "what'd you catch him with?" "bait an' a hook an' line." walter laughed. "pat, you win," said he. "i don't want any of your secrets, but i should like to catch just one fish like that one." a crafty look swept over the freckled face grinning across at him. "yez licked me once." walter nodded. "an' yez said that if iver yez had the chance yez'd show me some o' thim thricks what done it." again walter nodded. "will yez do it now if oi'll show yez where thim big fish is an' how ter ketch 'em?" asked pat eagerly. "i'll do it anyway, and you don't need to show me anything about the fish," replied walter heartily, driving the canoe ashore as he spoke. together they forced their way through the underbrush until they found a cleared place. "this isn't to be another fight?" asked walter, a sudden suspicion flashing into his mind. "course it ain't! what kind av a low-down hedgehog do ye take me fer, anyway?" retorted his companion indignantly. walter put out his hand and apologized promptly, ashamed to think that he should have been guilty of entertaining such a thought. then he began by briefly explaining the rules governing boxing, pointing out that a blow below the waist line constitutes a foul, that a man knocked down is allowed ten seconds in which to get on his feet again, and during that time must not be touched by his opponent; that wrestling is not allowed, and that matches usually are conducted by rounds of three minutes each, with a minute for rest in between. "no true sportsman will ever hit a man when he's down," concluded walter. this was difficult for the backwoods boy to grasp, and it was equally hard for him to understand why in a fight he should not scratch, kick and gouge, even use his teeth if opportunity offered, for in his hard life in the lumber camps he had witnessed many a rough and tumble fight where ethics are unknown, and where fighting men sink to the level of fighting beasts, employing every weapon with which nature has endowed them, and giving no mercy to a fallen foe. but pat was blessed with a strong sense of fair play, and when he had fully grasped the meaning of the rules they appealed to him instantly. "'tis jist a square deal both byes gits in a foight!" he exclaimed, a light breaking over his puzzled face. then walter showed him a few of the simplest guards, how to parry an opponent's blow with one arm while countering with the other, how to protect the body with elbows and forearms while the hands shield the face, how to step inside, and how to duck under a swing, how, by watching his opponent, to anticipate the coming blow and be prepared to avoid it. lastly he showed him the art of side-stepping, the little shift of the feet which while keeping the body perfectly poised allows the blow to pass harmlessly to one side or the other, at the same time opening an opportunity to counter on the opponent. naturally quick, and with an irishman's inborn love of battle, pat picked up the points readily and when at the end of an hour walter flung himself on the ground for a breathing spell pat executed a double shuffle. "shure it be the greatest dancin' lesson av me loife!" he whooped joyously, side-stepping, ducking and lunging into empty space. "come on, bye, come on! oi can lick yez now! come on, ye spalpeen! 'tis pat malone will give yez the greatest lickin' av yer life!" walter declined with thanks, lying back weak from laughter, while the young giant continued to dance around sparring, ducking and countering on an imaginary foe. "'tis meself will clane out the durant camp before anither sun is up as shure as oi be the eldest son av me mither," he chuckled, flinging himself beside walter from sheer exhaustion. when they had rested a bit walter proposed that they go try the fish, and that pat come in his canoe. in an instant the young woodsman had forgotten his newly acquired accomplishments, for a new idea had suddenly possessed him. "tell me, bye, what's this about catchin' the biggest fish at woodcraft camp?" he asked eagerly. walter explained the contest fully, and told how eager he was to score over the senecas. "'tis aisy," broke in pat. "what do you mean?" asked walter, a bit puzzled. pat struck one side of his nose with a dirty forefinger and winked solemnly. "oi wonder now, have yez forgot the big pickerel yez have lyin' down on the raft? 'twill weigh ten pounds if it weighs an ounce." "but that isn't mine!" exclaimed walter. "it's yours." "is ut now?" said pat, scratching his head. "shure oi disremimber ketchin' ut. oi'm thinkin' yez must hev caught ut in yer shlape an' didn't know ut." walter laughed and thanked his companion heartily, while he refused the gift. then seeing the look of hurt disappointment on pat's face he hastened to make clear why he could not accept the fish. "you see," he concluded, "a scout's honor is always to be trusted, and it would not be honorable to try to win with a fish i did not catch myself. a man's honor is the greatest thing he possesses." the other pondered this in silence for a few minutes trying to adjust his mind to a new idea. when he spoke it was slowly, as one feeling his way. "yez mane that ter score wid thot fish would be loike hittin' a man when he's down, or shtalin' from a blind pup." "exactly," replied walter. "an' do all the other byes feel the same way?" "of course they do." "no they don't! anyway, there's wan that doesn't." "what do you mean?" cried walter startled. "oi mane thot there's wan dirty blackguard has been winnin' points roight along wid pat malone's fish. oi mane thot thot spalpeen thot yez call harrison, the wan with his pockets lined with money, has been buyin' me big fish fer the last mont' an' payin' me good money fer 'em. oi mane thot if yez hadn't happened in here this marnin' yez moight hev seen him luggin' in thot big pickerel this very noight. 'tis his last fish he's had from me, the low-down blackguard." then he added ruefully: "sure 'tis a glad day fer pat malone an' a sorry wan fer his pockets ter hev found out what honor manes." the two boys returned to the canoe and spent the remainder of the morning in a vain attempt to land another big pickerel. when they parted it was with a mutual respect and liking and a promise on walter's part to return the next day in quest of the big fellows. "oi'm goin' ter hunt frogs fer bait this afternoon an' oi'll be waitin' fer ye at sunup," were pat's parting words. it was a sober boy who paddled back to woodcraft that afternoon. what he had learned that morning filled him with mingled feelings of contempt and gladness--contempt, for the fellow scout who had so perjured himself and violated his scout's oath, and gladness that his faith in the unkempt boy of the woods had been so fully justified. any lingering doubt of pat malone's innocence of the theft of mother merriam's pin which he might have entertained had been banished by what he had learned of the boy that morning. and in his own mind the boy was fighting a battle. where lay the path of duty? what did his honor as a scout demand of him? to go report what he had learned? to become a bearer of tales? the very thought was abhorrent to him! on the other hand had he any moral right to allow his fellow tribesmen to suffer through the dishonesty of which he held the proof? and hal's own tribesmen, was it fair to them to allow them to profit by points to which, though no fault of theirs, they had no right? it was a relief to see harrison's canoe approaching the landing as he pulled his own out. he would put it up to hal to do the square thing--redeem himself by playing the man for once. "hal," said walter in a low tone as the other landed, "i know where you get your fish." hal turned and faced him. "what are you talking about?" he said roughly. walter flushed and instinctively his fists doubled, but he kept a check on his temper. "you have bought your record fish of pat malone," he said evenly. it was the other's turn to flush, but he maintained his air of bravado. "that's silly," he jeered. "no it isn't, and you know it," replied walter. "well, what are you going to do about it?" asked the other sulkily, seeing that denial was useless. "i don't know," replied walter sadly. "say, hal, why don't you go own up to dr. merriam and ask him to try and put you right with the fellows?" "what do you take me for? i'm in bad enough now. if you don't blab who's going to know it? and if you turn telltale i guess my word's as good as yours," sneered hal. "for two cents i'd punch----" began walter hotly, then pity for the unfortunate boy before him calmed him. "hal, i'm not going to say anything to-night, anyway. do the right thing. remember your scout's oath," he begged. "remember it yourself," growled hal. "there's mighty little honor in telling tales." and with this parting shot he strode off to the wigwam. walter's preoccupation and sober face were bound to attract the attention of his mates, and he came in for a lot of guying. "who is she, walt?" "is her papa a big chief?" "take us round and give us a knock-down, walt." "romance of the big woods! walt, the tenderfoot, falls in love with an indian princess!" walter's replies to all these sallies were only half-hearted, and seeing that something was really amiss with him the boys dropped their banter. he retired to his bunk early, only to twist and toss uneasily all night long. over and over till his brain grew weary he kept repeating the perplexing question, "ought i to tell? ought i to tell? ought i to tell?" the problem was no nearer a solution when in the gray of dawn he slipped a canoe into the water the next morning and turned her bow toward the setback. pat was waiting for him on the old raft and, true to his word, he had a pocket full of lively little frogs, which were giving him no end of trouble in their efforts to escape. walter took him aboard, and they were soon skirting the lily-pads at the upper end. here pat bade walter rig his rod and, producing a lively green frog from his pocket, he impaled it on the hook by thrusting the barb through its lips, explaining that in this way the frog's swimming was not seriously interfered with. he then took the paddle and handled the canoe while walter cast. the frog had hardly struck the water before there was a swirl at the very edge of a patch of lily-pads followed by a strike that made the reel sing. a couple of good rushes and then, as is the way with pickerel, the fish was brought alongside with hardly a struggle. pat deftly scooped it into the canoe and killed it with a blow that broke its spine. it was fair for a beginning, weighing perhaps four pounds, and walter prepared to try again. for half an hour they worked along the pads, taking several smaller fish. at length they approached an outlying patch of pads where the water was deep and black. two canoe lengths short of it pat stopped the canoe. then he sorted over his remaining supply of frogs till he found one that suited his critical fancy. with this he rebaited walter's hook. "now, ye throw roight over ter the very edge o' thim pads, and don't ye be in no hurry," he commanded. the first cast was short, but at the second attempt the frog landed with a spat at the very edge of the pads and began to swim vigorously in an effort to reach and climb up on them. suddenly the water fairly boiled, and walter all but lost his balance and upset the canoe, so sudden and vicious was the strike. "ye have him! ye have him! shure 'tis the king av thim all, an' 'tis mesilf that knows ut, for 'tis tree times thot the ould feller has walked off wid me line and hooks!" yelled pat excitedly. "don't let him get foul o' thim pads!" walter soon found that he had the fight of his life on to keep the wary old warrior in clear water, but inch by inch he worked the fish away from the pads until finally he felt that the danger was past and that it was only a matter of time when the prize would be his. a few more heavy lunges, which threatened by the mere weight of the fish to break the slender rod, and the battle was over. softly pat slid his hand along till his stout fingers closed in the gills and the prize was in the canoe, where pat speedily put an end to the snapping of its cruel looking jaws by severing the spinal cord with his knife. walter brought out his scales, and could hardly believe that he read them aright. "thirteen pounds and a half!" he gasped. "an' there's two av me hooks in his mouth, bad cess ter him," said the matter-of-fact pat, deftly extracting his property. pat was for trying for another big fellow, but walter had had enough for that morning. besides, he was anxious to show his prize at camp, so reeling in his line they started for the mouth of the backset. "pat, did harrison ever have much luck in here?" asked walter. pat stared at his companion for a minute before he found speech. "what, do ye mane ter tell me ye be thinkin' oi iver showed him where oi was ketching the fish he bought?" demanded pat. "not he nor any ither o' the woodcraft byes knows about this setback. 'tis lucky ye was ter be findin' the way in yer own self. ye will kape ut ter yerself now, will ye not?" walter promised that he would. "say, bye, did ye tell the docther av the low-down thrick this harrison has been afther playin'?" pat suddenly inquired. walter confessed that he had not. then in a sudden burst of confidence he told the irish lad all about the dilemma in which he had become involved. "what would you do, pat?" he concluded. "me? shure oi dunno at all, at all. oi'm thinkin' oi'd side-step," replied pat, with a twinkle in his eyes. "but that's the trouble, i can't side-step," responded walter. the freckled face of the woods boy sobered. "'tis a quare thing, this honor ye be tellin' about, but oi'm thinkin' 'tis a moighty foine thing too," he said. then, his irish humor rising to the surface, he added: "there be wan thing oi wud do; oi'd knock the block clane off av that blackguard that's made all the throuble." walter laughed. "i'd like to," he confessed. they were now at the entrance and setting pat ashore walter turned his canoe toward camp. his arrival with the big pickerel, to say nothing of the smaller ones, created a wave of excitement among the boys who were in camp, and great jubilation among the delawares. it happened that harrison was among those present. "so," he sneered when no one was near, "you've tried the silver bait! how much did you pay for the bunch?" walter turned on his heel and walked away. all the joy of the day had vanished. he wanted to be alone to fight out to a finish the battle of honor. so immediately after noon mess he slipped away unseen, and sought the cool depths of the forest to find in the peace of the great woodland the solution of his difficulty. late that afternoon, his mind made up, he turned toward camp. as he approached he became aware of an air of suppressed excitement about the camp. buxby was the first to see him. "hi, walt! have you heard the news?" he shouted. "no," said walter. "what is it?" "the senecas' records have been wiped out; harrison's been buying those fish," whooped billy. walter's first thought was that hal had done the right thing and had confessed, and a great load fell from his shoulders. but billy's next words brought him up short. "pat malone came in this afternoon and told the big chief that he'd been selling fish to hal right along. brought in what money he had left, and said he guessed it wasn't quite the square thing for him to keep it. what do you think of that?" "what did the doctor do?" asked walter. "told pat that as he had sold the fish in good faith the money was his, especially as the camp had had the benefit of them. then he called hal in and paid him back all that he had given pat. then he wiped out from the senecas' score all of hal's records. don't know what he said to hal, but the word's been passed that the incident is closed. gee, but i'd hate to feel the way hal must! i guess pat's squared himself with the bunch on that pin business. a feller that would do what he did wouldn't steal." after the first burst of indignation the feeling of the camp settled into contempt, mingled with pity, for the boy who had so besmirched his honor. no reference was ever made to his disgrace, but for the most part he was left severely alone, only a few, of whom walter was one, endeavoring to hold out a helping hand. so the camp settled down to the usual routine once more. chapter xi buxby's buncombe the late afternoon sun shone warmly on a little clearing some two miles from woodcraft. it flooded with soft golden light the scar on the face of the great forest which nature, ever abhorrent of the ugly, was trying to mask under a riot of fireweed and early goldenrod. blackened stumps were half hidden under tangled canes of the red raspberry. in the more open places low bush blueberries carpeted the ground. at the upper end of the clearing two boys squatted beside the charred stump of a great pine. "there he comes, billy. line's started again," whispered one. "'tain't a he, it's a she," replied billy disgustedly. "don't you know that all worker bees are females? males don't make no honey; they're the drones." billy was strong on facts, if weak on grammar. "there comes another and another right behind. they're making a mighty short flight. we must be pretty close to the tree. gee, spud, i bet the eyes of some of the fellers will stick out when they see us luggin' in a barrel of honey!" "ain't got it yet," replied spud sententiously. "that tree is sure out of bounds, too. what we goin' to do about that?" "go on," said billy decidedly. "'tain't far out, and i reckon the big chief won't say nothin' when he sees that honey. gee, but this will score some for the delawares!" the two boys were billy buxby and spud ely. billy had been responsible for what he called the "big idea," which was to line out a bee tree, and spud had closed with it at once. with all his happy-go-lucky carelessness billy was well versed in outdoor life and by his powers of observation was continually surprising even those who knew him best. had he been less fun-loving and careless he might easily have been one of the trusted leaders among the younger boys of the camp. but billy's impulsiveness was apt to lead him into situations bordering on the reckless. he was always dreaming of doing big things and inclined to act on the inspiration of the moment, heedless of consequences. it is doubtful if another boy in camp had noticed that there were honey-bees working among the wild flowers. billy had kept his discovery to himself until he had perfected a plan whereby to win laurels for himself and score for the delawares. it would not have been billy, however, not to have dropped mysterious hints of the great coup in woodcraft which he was about to pull off, and, as he was never taken seriously, it was soon dubbed "buxby's buncombe" and became a standing joke. billy stood for all the good-natured chaff of his companions without a protest. in fact he rather encouraged it that his final triumph might appear the greater. he went about with an air of secrecy, and for one whole day was engaged in making a mysterious something of which he would allow no one a glimpse. this was nothing more or less than a bee box, made after a plan once shown him by an old bee hunter from whom billy had learned many tricks in the gentle art of "lining" bees. the box was a very simple affair, but admirably adapted to its purpose. it was made from an old cigar box and was perhaps three inches square by three and one-half deep. half-way down on one side billy made a slit just wide enough to admit a piece of ordinary window glass cut to fit. inside he tacked two little strips or guides on which the glass rested. when the glass slide was in place it divided the box into an upper and lower chamber. the cover had a half-inch hole in the middle with a piece of glass fastened over it on the inside. the whole thing was crude, but in a secret test billy found that it answered his purpose fully. it was then that he took spud ely into his confidence and it was arranged that on the following afternoon they would give billy's plan a try-out. preserving the utmost secrecy the two boys sought the old clearing, where billy had previously assured himself that the bees were also at work. in the lower compartment he put a piece of bread on which he poured a liberal amount of syrup, a two-ounce bottle of which he had begged from the cook. then he slipped the glass slide in place and was ready for business. it was not long before his experienced eyes singled out a honey-bee at work on a spray of goldenrod on the edge of the clearing. approaching softly with the box in one hand and the cover in the other he held the box just beneath the busy little insect and gently brushed her into it with the cover, immediately clapping this in place. "gee, that was easy!" exclaimed the admiring spud, who entertained a wholesome respect for all insects with stings. "pooh, that's nothin'! i've seen fellers pick 'em right up in their fingers. if you ain't afraid of bees they won't bother you none. they know when people are afraid of 'em and when they ain't," replied billy. the bee buzzed about angrily for a few minutes, but in her darkened prison presently quieted down, the boys taking turns at peeping at her through the glass in the cover. when she had taken to a quiet examination of her narrow quarters billy very gently pulled out the glass slide. it did not take her long to discover the syrup and, forgetful of everything but the unexpected store of sweets, she was soon busy "loadin' up," as billy expressed it. carefully he lifted the box and placed it on a convenient stump, then removed the cover. presently, loaded with all she could carry, the bee took wing. rising heavily she circled overhead once or twice to get her bearings, then shot away in a straight line across the clearing. "now what do we do, chase along after her?" asked spud. "naw, wait for her to come back, you numskull," replied billy. "and while we're waiting let's catch another." this was soon done, and the second bee was liberated as the first had been. to the surprise of the boys this one took a direction at right angles to the course of the first. "great snakes!" exclaimed billy excitedly. "these woods are full of bee trees!" spud glanced at the box and just then a bee disappeared within. "another bee has found the syrup! i just saw it go in!" he exclaimed, becoming more and more excited. "'tain't another one; it's the first one come back, just like i told you she would." billy peeped into the box. "i thought so," he added; "she's brought another bee with her. when they go back they'll bring some more till the whole darn hive knows just where this little old box is." it was even as billy said. presently the bees were clustering thick around the box and were continually arriving and departing, forming a double line straight to the hive in the hollow heart of some forest giant beyond the clearing. in the meantime the second bee had carried the good news home and rallied a force of workers, so that soon two lines were established. "what will we do, split up and you follow one line while i follow the other?" asked spud. "how do you expect to follow the line if you ain't got the box? think a bee's goin' to take you by the hand and lead you?" asked billy sarcastically, forgetful that this was a wholly new experience to spud. "we'll stick together and work out the first line, and then if we have time we'll try the other." he drew out his knife and blazed the stump on which the bee box sat. then squatting down he carefully sighted along the second line of bees and cut a rough arrow with the point indicating the exact line of flight. "now," said he, "we can come back any old time and run down that line." he next sighted along the line they proposed to follow out first till his eye encountered a slender young spruce on the far side of the clearing. with this for a marker he slipped the cover on the box while several bees were within, and taking it with him walked straight to the tree he had sighted. on the nearest stump he placed the box and removed the cover. at once several laden bees reëstablished their bearings and started for home. it was the quick return of one of these which had drawn from spud the exclamation exposing his ignorance of the sex of working bees. the northern edge of the clearing marked "bounds" in that direction for the camp, and only by special permission might the boys go beyond. spud, less reckless than billy, or at all events less certain that even a "barrel" of honey would buy dr. merriam's pardon for deliberate infraction of the rules, hesitated. "let's give it up now, and run the line out to-morrow," he suggested. "we can tell the big chief and get his permission to go out of bounds." billy balked. "oh, you quitter!" he growled. "look at that line runnin' now and you talkin' about givin' it up! say, spud, i picked you to come in on this with me 'cause i thought you had some sand. you can go on back, but i'm goin' to find that tree! it can't be more'n a little ways in anyway, the bees are making such a short flight. anyhow, who's going to know if we do go out of bounds? we can find the tree and then to-morrow ask permission to go out of bounds. then we can open up the tree and get the honey." the excitement of the hunt led spud to lend an all too willing ear to billy's argument. "all right," he growled, "i'm with you, but let's hurry up and get back." imprisoning some bees as before they once more moved forward and after a short advance into the woods stopped to reëstablish the line. this time the bees were back so quickly that billy knew that the tree was close by, but the trees were so thick that it was difficult to watch the bees and the amateur hunter was afraid that by continuing to advance along the line they might pass the tree without seeing it. he therefore stationed spud by the box and himself went forward along the line of flight as far as spud could see him, where he blazed a tree. returning he took the bee box with some captives and started off at right angles. at about one hundred and fifty yards he stopped, set his captives free and soon had a line started from that point. the locating of the tree was now simply a matter of each boy moving forward along his line and where the two lines intersected the tree would be found. they met at the foot of a huge pine. some fifty feet from the ground was a long gray strip from which the bark had fallen away, denoting dead wood and a probable hollow. studying this carefully they finally made out a hole just beneath the stub of a dead branch, and circling near this some tiny specks which billy promptly pronounced bees. "we've got it!" he whooped joyously. "we've got it! who says there isn't some class to us as scouts?" "bet that hollow comes half-way down the tree. must be a ton of honey in it," said spud examining the tree critically. "what you goin' to do, billy?" "goin' up to have a look at it," said billy, taking off his coat. "aw, quit your kiddin'; you can't climb that!" replied spud. billy pointed to a young spruce growing close to it. "i can climb that, though," said he, suiting the action to the word. "well, hurry up," growled spud. "it's gettin' darker'n blazes, and we'll be in a pretty pickle if we don't get out of here mighty quick." in the excitement the boys had lost all track of time and the shadows had begun to steal upon them unawares. up above it was still bright, but in the hollows it was already dusk. billy had reached a point where he could see the entrance clearly. a few belated stragglers were hurrying home with the last of the day's spoils. extending down from the entrance was a crack which widened slightly just opposite billy's position, and through it he got a glimpse of weather-stained comb. the temptation was too great to be resisted. working out on a branch of the spruce he managed to reach over to the tree and with his knife split off a sliver on one side of the crack. then things happened. spud, impatiently waiting below, was startled by a wild yell. he looked up to see billy descending at a rate that at first led him to think that the boy had lost his balance and was falling. in fact he was literally dropping from branch to branch. how he did it he never could tell. the last twenty feet he dropped clear, landing with a thump that for a minute knocked all the wind out of him. spud, genuinely concerned, hastened over to him and then for the first time realized what had happened. billy had not come down alone. a sharp pain beneath one eye admonished spud of the fact, and another on his chin drove the fact home. yes, billy had company, and the company was fighting mad. spud reached for billy's jacket and wildly fought the enemy, while billy scrambled to his feet. then, heedless of direction, they fled, their one thought to get as far as possible from the wrath which was being visited upon them. crashing through the underbrush, falling over mouldering logs, barking their shins, bumping into trees in the fast gathering dusk, they ran till breath gave out. the pursuit had been short, for the approach of night dampened the ardor of the avenging insects, and the hive had quieted down long before the boys stopped running. when finally they did stop and were convinced that they had nothing more to fear from the hot-tempered little fighters, they sat down to take account of injuries. billy had been stung in half a dozen places on the face, four places on his hands and three on his legs. spud had fared better, having but half a dozen in all, the most painful being the one beneath the eye, which was already puffed and swelling rapidly. billy was considerably bruised from his fall from the tree, and spud had scraped the skin from one shin. spud's concern for billy, excited by the latter's fall, had given place to righteous wrath. "a pretty bee hunter you are!" he sputtered. "what in blazes was you trying to do anyway? i've a good mind to punch your head for getting me into this mess." he advanced threateningly. then billy's pathetic appearance, with his bruised and swollen face, cooled his wrath as suddenly as it had blazed up. "i guess you've got yours all right, all right, and don't need nothin' more," he muttered. "now let's get out of here. this blamed eye of mine will be closed tight pretty quick. gee, how those little duffers can sting!" billy had "got his." there was no doubt about that. the stings were paining him acutely and he was stiff and sore from his bruises. but underneath his happy-go-lucky, careless disposition was the stuff from which true manhood is built. it showed now. "spud," he said slowly, "it's my fault all the way through. it's my fault that we came out of bounds, and it's all my fault that we got stung. i'm sorry, and when we get back to camp i'm going straight to the big chief and tell him that i'm to blame." "'tain't your fault no more'n mine," growled spud. "come, get a move on. which way do we go?" billy looked up startled, to see the same look reflected in spud's face. for the first time the boys realized that in their mad flight they had given no thought to direction. neither had the remotest idea of where the camp lay or even the direction of the bee tree. and for the first time they had become aware of how dark it had grown. "billy, we're lost!" whispered spud, a look of panic in his face. chapter xii lost the test of manhood is the ability to meet an emergency squarely, to put fear one side, think clearly and act sanely. the man who does not know fear may make no claim to bravery. courage he may possess, courage that may lead to mighty deeds, but the spirit of true heroism is not his until he has tasted of the bitterness of fear and conquered it. of the two boys sitting with blanched faces under the first shock of realization that they were indeed lost in the great forest, with night fast closing in, spud was some two years the older, stocky in build, well muscled, apparently fitted in every way to be the leader. billy, on the other hand, was rather under size, wiry, quick moving, with the activity of nervous energy, and highly imaginative. the sudden fear that whitened spud's sun-browned face clutched at billy's heart as well and prompted him to leap to his feet and plunge after spud in response to the latter's panic shaken, "come on! we better keep going, and maybe we'll come out somewhere!" for a few minutes they tore along in frantic haste. then billy showed the stuff of which he was made. "stop, spud!" he yelled sharply. it was the voice of authority. it cut through the terror of the fleeing boy in front and brought him up short. billy had taken command. he began to speak rapidly. "we're a couple of idiots. this ain't goin' to get us nowhere unless it's into more trouble, maybe. we're doin' just what always gets lost people into trouble and gets 'em more lost. the thing to do is to sit down and talk it over and try to decide just what we ought to do. pretty scouts we are, running like a couple of silly hens at the first scare! wonder what the big chief would say if he could see us, after all the lectures he's given on what to do when you get lost. here we are, and the question is, what are we going to do about it? what do you say?" "i--i don't know," confessed spud miserably. he was shaking a bit. "they'll send out searching parties when we fail to show up to-night. do you s'pose they'll come over this way?" billy made a wry face that instantly resolved into a grimace of pain because of his swollen features. "no, i don't," he replied. "you see i let some of the fellers think that we was goin' over toward old baldy, and you know some of 'em saw us start out on the baldy trail. they'll go huntin' over that way. spud, we might just as well make up our minds right now that we've got to spend the night in the woods. in the mornin' we can shin up a tall tree and p'raps get our bearings. what we want to do now is to make ourselves as comfortable as we can, and the first thing i'm goin' to do is to get some mud." "mud! what for?" asked spud in surprise. "to plaster on these blamed stings," replied billy. "jerusalem, how my face aches! just a little bit back there we came across a swampy place. come on and see if we can find it." retracing their steps in the direction from which they had made their last mad flight they soon found the place billy had noticed. with hasty fingers he dug up the wet black muck and plastered it thick over his swollen face and on his hands and legs. somewhat gingerly spud followed his example. the cool, moist plasters brought almost instant relief, and with the easing of the smarting wounds a measure of steadiness returned to the shaken nerves. spud even so far forgot his fears as to grin as he looked at billy. "gee, you are a sight! say, the fellows wouldn't do a thing if they could see you now! the wild man of borneo would be a beaut 'side of you." "can't have much on you," replied billy. "that eye of yours looks as if it was about closed up, and mud ain't becoming to your style of beauty. now let's make camp before it gets so dark we can't see nothin'." "where'll we make it, right here?" asked spud. "no," replied billy decidedly. "it's too wet. we've got to get on higher ground." he stooped and began to make a big ball of mud. "what's that for?" demanded the puzzled spud. "first aid for the injured. these beauty plasters are goin' to dry out pretty quick and we'll want some fresh ones. you'd better bring along some too," replied billy briefly. the advice seemed good, and spud followed billy's example. then they pushed on for drier ground, billy in the lead. already his active imagination had seized upon their predicament as savoring of real adventure. he pictured their return to camp the next day as heroes rather than culprits who had disobeyed one of the most stringent rules of the camp. he saw himself the center of admiring groups of his fellows because of his superior scoutcraft in knowing just what to do and how to do it in so severe a test as spending a night lost in the woods. the anxiety which would be caused by their absence never entered his head, or if it did was dismissed as of little consequence. he would show them that he was a real scout, able to take care of himself under any conditions. presently they became aware that the ground was gradually sloping up. it was firm and dry under foot. by this time it was so dark that it was with difficulty they could make out their surroundings. in front of two trees standing some ten feet apart billy stopped. "we'll camp here," he said. carefully putting his precious ball of mud at the foot of one of the trees he singled out a tall two-inch sapling. "here, spud, you bend this over as far as you can," he commanded. "what for?" asked spud. "never you mind; just get busy!" replied billy. by this time spud had accepted billy's leadership without question and he meekly obeyed. with his stout scout knife billy made a straight cut across the sapling at the point where the strain was greatest. the strained fibers of the wood yielded to the first pressure of the keen blade and in less than half a minute he had the tree in his hands with a clean square cut base. "you can cut down a big tree with a penknife if you can only bend the tree over far enough," said he as he trimmed the sapling. when he had finished he had a pole perhaps twelve feet long. fishing some stout twine from one of his capacious pockets he lashed the pole firmly to the two trees about six feet from the ground. "now hustle and get a lot of sticks 'bout ten feet long," he commanded. these were not so easily obtained, but by dint of much feeling around and effort on the part of the two boys enough sticks and young saplings were secured to answer billy's purpose. these were arranged with butts on the ground and other ends supported on the cross-bar between the two trees, all slanting evenly in the same direction. "now heap up all the brush and leaves you can scrape up," commanded the young architect, bringing up an armful of spruce boughs he had obtained from a nearby windfall. thatched in this way the rude lean-to was soon completed. it was a rough but effective shelter, and with a few balsam boughs spread on the ground beneath it billy felt that they could spend the night with a reasonable degree of comfort. "now if we only had a fire this wouldn't be half bad," he muttered. "got any matches, spud?" "what do you take me for? you know the rules," growled spud. billy knew. matches were absolutely tabooed in woodcraft camp, that there might be no chance of a forest fire from the carelessness of just such reckless youngsters as billy. "wish i'd brought my fire stick," grumbled billy. "i've got mine," said spud. "what! you blink-eyed owl! why didn't you say so before?" whooped billy. "trot it out!" the cautious spud demurred. "you know the rules, billy, and that building a fire without permission means expulsion," he protested. "expulsion nothin'!" replied billy. "do you s'pose the big chief's goin' to fire us for keepin' from freezin' to death? we'll be 'bout frozen by morning without blankets nor nothin'. here, you give it to me. you needn't have anything to do with makin' the fire. i'll make it, and tell the doctor so when we get in. there ain't any danger, 'cause one of us will be on watch all the time." [illustration: billy's apparatus for making fire fire-drill drill-socket fire-board or block leather thong bow put together in use] reluctantly spud produced from an inner pocket a little block of wood having in the middle a shallow pit, already charred with use. from this pit a v shape groove extended to the edge. from around his neck under his coat he unslung a small bow having a slack leather thong for a string. with this was a straight stick pointed at both ends. lastly he brought forth a small oval piece of wood having a shallow pit in the center, and a little bag of finely ground cedar bark. all of these things he turned over to billy. the latter first carefully cleared the ground of all leaves and rubbish for a considerable space in front of the shelter. he then felt around until he had gathered a little bundle of dry twigs and some shreds of bark from a fallen birch nearby. resting the block of wood or fire-board on a piece of bark he ordered spud to hold it steady. taking up the straight stick already mentioned he rested one pointed end in the hollow of the fire-board, looped the bow thong around it and, fitting the oval piece to the upper end of the straight stick by means of the hollow in the center, he was ready for business. holding the oval piece in his left hand he bore down lightly, at the same time grasping the bow in his right hand and moving it rapidly back and forth. this caused the straight stick or drill, as scouts call it, to revolve rapidly. it was too dark to see, but almost at once the boys smelled smoke, and a few seconds later a tiny coal glowed on the piece of bark on the edge of which the fire-board rested. dropping his tools billy picked up the piece of bark, and covered the coal with cedar bark from spud's bag, while he gently blew upon it. the bark was really tinder, prepared as the indians prepared it before ever the white man brought his own first crude fire-making methods to startle the red men. the smoke increased in volume. a tiny flame flickered, disappeared, flickered again, then hungrily licked at the edge of a strip of birch bark that billy held to it. hastily setting down the piece of bark holding the tiny fire he arranged the dry twigs over it in a loose pile and had the satisfaction of seeing the blaze leap up merrily. larger sticks were laid over the pile, and in a few minutes the dancing flames were making a circle of cheerful light that flooded the lean-to with warmth and cast weird shadows among the trees. by the light from the fire the boys were able to gather a supply of wood wherewith to keep it going through the night and under its cheering influence their spirits rose wonderfully. "if we only had something to eat----" began billy. "shut up!" interrupted spud. "i'll be chewin' pine-needles in a few minutes." billy had a sudden inspiration. fishing the bee box from his coat pocket he extracted the piece of syrup-soaked bread with which it had been baited and eyed it critically. "there's just half a bite apiece, and a swallow of syrup for each of us in the bottle," said he. "shall we have it now or wait till morning?" "i wouldn't trust you with it till mornin'. we'll have it now," grunted spud. the night had settled down still, and with a chill in the air that made the warmth of the fire very welcome. beyond the zone of the firelight a wall of blackness hemmed them in. now that camp had been made and there was nothing to do but wait for daylight the loneliness of their situation weighed upon their spirits. they drew closer together on an old log which they had drawn before the fire for a seat. suddenly billy raised a warning hand. "what is it?" whispered spud, edging a bit nearer. "i thought i heard a shot," replied billy. with straining ears the boys sat and waited what seemed an interminable length of time before they caught the faint sound of three shots fired in quick succession. spud sprang to his feet. "they're lookin' for us, billy. let's give 'em a yell," he cried. first one, then the other, then both together they yelled at the top of their lungs until their throats were strained and raw. then they realized the futility of wasting breath in this way. "'tain't no use, not a bit. may as well save our breath. we can't hear those shots plain enough to tell what direction they come from, so of course nobody can hear us," said billy, disconsolately resuming his seat by the fire. for a while they heard shots from time to time, and somehow they brought a certain amount of comfort. it seemed less lonely to know that others were abroad in the forest looking for them, even though they were miles away. but the shots ceased finally, and the brooding mystery of the night settled over and took possession of them. they said little, but sat absorbed each in his own thoughts or listening to the strange sounds and uncanny voices of the night. a pathetic picture they presented had any one been there to see, huddled together on the old log, their swollen, mud-smeared faces still further distorted by the uncertain flicker of the firelight. a stick snapping off in the darkness produced an answering jump in overwrought nerves, and the sudden scurry of a rabbit brought a startled "what was that?" from spud. presently the physical strain and excitement they had been under began to tell, and despite their strange surroundings both boys began to nod, while the fire died down to glowing embers. it was then that some evil genius prompted a great horned owl to take up his watch on a dead pine not fifty feet away and startle the woodland with his fierce hunting call: "whooo-hoo-hoo, whoo-hoo!" the sleepers awoke in a panic, frantically clutching each other. "d-d-did you hear that?" whispered spud, his teeth chattering. as if in reply again the fierce hunting call rang through the woods: "whooo-hoo-hoo, whoo-hoo!" billy gave vent to a hysterical little laugh of relief. "nothin' but an owl," said he as he heaped more wood on the fire. "he certainly got my goat that first time, though. say, spud, we're a couple of ninnies to both be sittin' out here asleep. what'd we build that lean-to for? you turn in there and sleep for a couple of hours and then you watch and i'll sleep. ain't any need of either of us keepin' watch so far as any danger is concerned, i s'pose, for there's nothin' in these woods to harm us, but we ought not to leave the fire burnin' without some one to watch it." this was sound advice, and spud stretched out on the fragrant balsam boughs in the lean-to and soon was sound asleep. billy began his lonely vigil. at first it was easy enough to keep awake. later an almost irresistible drowsiness took possession of him, and it was only by tramping back and forth or hunting fire-wood within the circle of light from the fire that he managed to keep awake. at the end of two hours he roused spud, and wearily threw himself in the latter's place on the balsam bed. it seemed to him that he had hardly closed his eyes when he felt spud shaking him. "go 'way," he murmured sleepily. "what you waking me up now for?" "it's your turn again to watch," spud growled, unceremoniously hauling billy off the boughs. if it had been hard and lonely work before it was doubly so now. it was past midnight, at the hour when vital forces and courage are at their lowest ebb. billy was stiff and sore. every movement was painful. he had never felt so utterly miserable in all his life. as he afterward expressed it, every bit of sand had run out. he piled fuel on the fire, and then sat down on the log and gave himself over to his misery. how long he had sat there he could not tell when he was brought out of a semi-drowse by a slight noise back of the lean-to. in an instant he was wide awake, straining his ears for a repetition of the sound. the fire had burned low and the circle of light had narrowed to a faint glow of but a few feet in diameter. billy held his breath. had he imagined it? no, there was a rustle of leaves back of the lean-to. something was moving there. then there followed a decided and pronounced sniff! billy felt his scalp prickle as if each individual hair was rising on end. with a wild yell he grabbed a glowing ember from the fire and hurled it in the direction of the sound. there was a startled "whoof," and the sound of a heavy animal lumbering off through the brush. spud came tumbling out of the lean-to white and shaky. "for heaven's sake, billy, what's the matter?" he gasped. billy's teeth were chattering so that he could hardly speak. "i--i--i th-think it wa-was a bear," he finally managed to get out. "go on, what you givin' us!" said spud. billy had by now so far recovered himself that he could give a connected account of what he had heard, and both agreed that their visitor could have been nothing less than bruin. needless to say there was no more sleep for either that night. they piled fresh fuel on the fire and kept watch together, starting nervously at the smallest sound. it was with a sigh of profound relief that they noted the gray of dawn stealing through the trees, and with the coming of the light their spirits rose perceptibly. "what shall we do now, make a break out of here?" asked spud when day had fairly broken. "not on your tintype!" replied billy. "i'm lost all i'm goin' to be. you get busy and build another fire over there about fifty feet. when it gets goin' good heap on a lot of green leaves and rotten wood to make a smoke. i'll do the same thing with this fire. there ain't a breath of wind; those two smokes will go straight up, and you know two smokes means 'lost.' some one will be up at the lookout on the top of old scraggy the first thing this morning, and he'll see the smokes. then he'll get word to camp and a party will come out and find us." wise billy. he had decided upon just the right course of action. after the return of the unsuccessful searching parties dr. merriam had spent an anxious night. before daybreak he had dispatched seaforth with one of the guides to the top of old scraggy. they had seen the signal smokes at once and heliographed the location of them to camp. a party led by big jim and louis woodhull had started immediately, and as soon as they reached the clearing where the boys had begun their bee hunt they saw the smoke lazily curling above the tree tops about a mile beyond. firing signal shots and stopping every few minutes to send a whoop ringing through the woods they pushed on and presently, guided by answering whoops from the two victims, found the camp. "mother of saints!" exclaimed big jim as he caught a glimpse of the swollen and mud-stained faces of the two boys. billy smiled feebly, for the effort was painful. "we found a bee tree," he said. "found a bee tree! found a bee tree!" echoed the guide. "'pears to me thet them bees did some findin' on their own account." then seeing what really pitiful condition the two youngsters were in he called an abrupt halt to all jollying by the rescuers and at once prepared for the return to camp. one of the party was sent on ahead to relieve the doctor of his worry, and the rest slowly worked their way out, for billy was too stiff and sore to hurry much. at the first brook a halt was made and the faces of the two victims were tenderly bathed and made a little more presentable to enter camp. billy's volatile spirits were already back to normal. he was full of the bee tree and the bear and already laying plans for getting the honey. at mention of the bear big jim smiled. "folks thet git lost in th' woods most generally meet up with a bar," he remarked dryly. "didn't give yer a lock o' his hair fer a soovineer, did he, son?" billy tried to make a face at the guide, but winced with pain. "i tell you there _was_ a bear, and he came right up to our lean-to," he sputtered indignantly. and so they came into camp where in front of the office dr. merriam stood gravely awaiting them. chapter xiii the honey seekers two very sober boys came forth from their interview with the big chief. it was not that their punishment for infraction of the two most rigidly enforced rules of the camp--jumping bounds and building fires--was to be so severe. in fact they were getting off much lighter than they had dared to hope for, being ordered to police camp for one month and also being denied the privilege of joining any of the various special parties going out with the guides for two and three day trips. dr. merriam considered that their experience had been in the nature of punishment, severe enough to warrant him in being lenient in his dealings with the culprits. he had simply talked to them, quietly, kindly, with no shadow of resentment, no suggestion of scolding. it was just a plain talk as man to man, in which the doctor made clear to them how the welfare of all is wholly dependent upon the individual, and that the breaking of laws made for the community in no way harms those in authority, but is an outrage upon the great body politic and in time is bound to react upon the lawbreaker. "the honor of woodcraft camp as a whole is to be safeguarded only by keeping unsullied the honor of each individual member. by your acts of deliberate disobedience yesterday you not only besmirched your own honor as scouts under oath, but you blotted the honor of the entire camp. buxby, by your own confession you have sought to take upon your shoulders the entire blame for this unfortunate affair. the motive does you credit. but, my boy," he concluded, turning to spud, "i want you to realize that weakness which allows one to follow another in wrongdoing is quite as blameworthy as the act of the leader, and that therefore i hold you equally culpable with buxby in this affair." his face lighted with one of his rare smiles. "i believe that from now on i can trust both of you implicitly," he said, giving each the scout's grip. "the thing that hurts me most is the fact that the big chief won't let the findin' of that bee tree score for the delawares. there's fifty points thrown away just because i wouldn't take your advice, spud, and wait till we got permission to go out of bounds," said billy, as half an hour later the two boys sat at one end of the mess table making up for their prolonged fast. spud stopped a huge slice of bread and butter half-way to his mouth. "what about that second line we ain't run down yet?" he asked slowly. billy stared at him for a minute, then suddenly choked over the cup of hot cocoa he was drinking. when he had recovered his breath a broad smile lighted his battered face. "spud, old scout, we win!" he exulted. "here's where we beat the big chief after all! why didn't i think of it before? it's as easy as picking up chips at a wood-pile. we haven't said a word about that second line. we won't, except to woodhull. we'll take him along and run that line clear to bounds. then we'll show louis how to use that bee box, and let him go on and find the tree. you know there are no bounds for the tribe leaders. fifty points for the delawares---- oh, my lucky stars!" billy finished with a whoop that brought the cook running to see what the trouble was. in the meantime dr. merriam was having a conference with big jim at the headquarters. "i tell yer, doctor, thet leetle scatterbrain hev got more woods sense than three-fourths o' th' rest o' these youngsters put together. wish yer could see thet camp o' theirn. couldn't 'a' built it no better myself. an' then he had sense enough t' stick right thar and send up them smoke signals. if he only hed th' level top piece o' thet youngster thet went in t' lonesome with me he'd hev th' makin' o' one o' th' best leaders in camp, even if he did hear a bar." the big guide chuckled. "so you don't take any stock in the bear?" asked the doctor. "not th' least leetle mite," replied jim. "folks thet's lost allers hears bars or wildcats. i been watchin' out some sharp an' i ain't see no sign o' bar nigher'n ten mile o' this camp in th' last three years." "where did those bees come from?" asked the doctor. "feller thet lived in this camp th' summer 'fore yer bought it had a couple o' hives. guess some o' 'em must hev got away from him. thet youngster cert'nly did run 'em down slick. hadn't never noticed th' leetle honey bugs myself." the doctor smiled. "i had," said he, "and i had intended to line them out some day, but billy got ahead of me, and as you say, he certainly did the trick very cleverly. the thing that pleases me, however, is the fact that he was observing enough to notice them. i don't believe that there is another soul in camp beside myself who had discovered them. jim, that boy has got the right kind of stuff in him. we've got to take him in hand and develop his bump of caution and sense of responsibility." "if he could run with young upton fer a while----" began the guide. "the very thing i had in mind," interrupted the doctor. "when buxby's period of probation is over i think we'll have to plan a trip for you with those two youngsters, one that will put them on their mettle. it will be an interesting experiment. what do you think about opening that bee tree?" the guide grinned. "a leetle honey would kind o' sweeten things up some," he ventured. "all right," replied the doctor. "be prepared to take a small party in to get it day after to-morrow." big jim's "honey party," as he called it, was drawn wholly from the delawares, in honor of the tree having been discovered by members of that tribe. it included woodhull, tug benson, upton and chip harley. billy and spud were denied the privilege of going out of bounds, so could go no farther than the edge of the old clearing. spud announced that he had had enough of bees anyhow, and chose to stay in camp. but billy was heart-broken. however, he was fair minded enough to admit to himself that he deserved all that was coming to him, and hiding his chagrin led the expedition to the old clearing and gave the guide the line from the stump on the upper edge. he watched the others disappear into the woods in single file and then sat down to possess himself in such patience as he could until they should return. he had no doubt of their success in locating the tree and as big jim was no novice at cutting bee trees, he anticipated no trouble on that score. all the party wore gloves and carried mosquito netting to protect faces and necks from the maddened bees. in fact both tug and chip had their veils on when they entered the woods. the guide carried an axe, as did woodhull, while walter and tug each carried a galvanized iron water pail for the expected honey. billy knew that the guide would run no risk of having his charges badly stung and would undoubtedly smoke the hive well before laying it open. the minutes passed on leaden wings. what was the matter? why didn't jim whoop when he found the tree as he had agreed to do? could he have overrun it? a slight rustle in the bushes on the edge of the clearing some thirty yards to the right caught billy's attention. something was moving there. to kill time he started to investigate. "probably a porcupine," he muttered to himself, as he softly stole forward. creeping on hands and knees to the shelter of a fallen tree trunk he cautiously raised his head and peeped over. instead of the expected porcupine he saw a little brown furry animal vainly trying to pull over an old log, and emitting funny little discontented whines as it tugged. at first glance it looked something like a clumsy puppy, and then the truth flashed across billy and made his eyes pop out. it was a bear cub, a very little fellow at that. with impulsive billy to act first and think afterward was ever the governing principle. it was so now. quietly dropping down behind the tree trunk he hastily slipped off his jacket. then rising to his feet he reached forward and threw it over the head of the unsuspecting little animal, recklessly throwing himself after it. for a few minutes there was a desperate struggle accompanied by muffled squeals. then billy succeeded in getting the wildly clawing fore-paws smothered in the folds of the jacket and, pinning down the stout little hind-legs, he had his victim helpless. "gee, now i've got him what'll i do with him?" he panted. a sudden inspiration came to him. he remembered noticing a huge hollow stump in the middle of the clearing. if he could get him over to that and drop him into it he could be held prisoner until the bee hunters returned. wrapping the enveloping jacket still tighter around the imprisoned head and fore-paws billy gathered the struggling bundle in his arms and started for the stump. just before he reached it pandemonium broke loose in the woods behind him. there were wild yells in all keys from big jim's deep base to chip harley's shrill falsetto. billy chuckled. "must have stirred them bees up something awful," he muttered. "funny i didn't hear 'em choppin'. there, you little fiend!" he dropped the cub into the hollow and spread the jacket over the top. then for the first time he realized that a baby as small as his captive must have a mother at no great distance. his face went a trifle pale under its coat of tan. "i wish them fellers would quit fightin' bees and come out," he muttered. almost with the thought his wish was gratified. chip came first. the bee veil was still over his head and he looked not on the order of his coming. he floundered out of the brush, caught a heedless toe under a stick and fell headlong. he was up in a flash, blindly struggled through a raspberry tangle that he might have gone around, bumped into a half-hidden stump and went down again with a little moan. then he was on his feet again and passed billy as if he was trying to break the hundred yard sprint record. tug was a good second, and he had little advantage over chip in the method of his coming. he seemed to have some pressing engagement back at camp, and was "going strong" when he passed billy. walter and woodhull appeared next, but as they were unencumbered by veils they picked their footing with more discretion, and louis stopped as soon as he reached the open, walter following his example half-way to billy. lastly appeared big jim, who came out of the woods leisurely, his axe still in his hand. jim was grinning. it was clear to billy that something had happened, but that whatever it was the guide considered the danger past now. something had happened. following the guide in single file they had proceeded some distance when they became aware of a humming sound which steadily increased in volume as they advanced. suddenly big jim abruptly halted and held up a warning hand. there was a puzzled look on the guide's face. "somethin' has made them bees plumb mad fer sartin," he whispered. the volume of sound increased. it was as if off in the tree tops beyond a huge top was spinning. the brush was still too thick for them to see the tree itself. then into the steady hum of the bees there broke a new note, half growl, half whine, followed by the ripping sound of rent wood. the guide's face cleared. "you boys are goin' t' see somethin' in a minute yer won't likely ever see agen. now come on, and be mighty careful about not makin' no noise," he whispered. a few feet further on the thick young growth opened up and they came in full view of billy's bee tree. what they saw drew a startled exclamation from the three younger boys, at once silenced by a warning hiss from big jim. there, fifty feet from the ground, gripping the tree with hind legs and one huge fore arm, was an immense black bear. the long claws of the paw that was free had been hooked into the entrance hole and a long strip the length of the crack which had led to billy's undoing a few days previous had been torn out, exposing the hollow packed with comb. bruin was then occupied in scooping out great pieces of comb dripping with honey and transferring them to her mouth, whining and growling and stopping every other second to slap at the bees clustered in an angry cloud about her head. what no one did see, because all eyes were turned up instead of on the ground, were two little brown bundles of fur that scurried for the shelter of a windfall. "ain't a mite o' danger," whispered the guide, noting the panicky look on some of the faces. "in 'bout a minute yer'll see th' worst scared bar in the north woods. now don't run when she comes down if yer don't want th' hull camp laughin' at yer," he warned, seeing chip and tug already beginning to edge away. had jim been aware of the presence of the two cubs he would have adopted a very different course of action. he was counting on the fact that despite its great size and immense strength the black bear is one of the most timid of all wild animals in the presence of man unless wounded, cornered or called upon to protect its young. perhaps timidity is not quite a fair indictment. let us say rather that of all wild animals none has come to have a more wholesome respect for man, and it is a well-known fact that not even a deer will bolt quicker at man's approach than will this black comedian of the big woods. it was with this fact in mind that the guide advanced a few steps and suddenly sent forth an ear-splitting whoop. things happened then with a rapidity that left no time for thought. walter stoutly maintains to this day that the bear neither slid nor climbed down--that she simply let go and dropped. certain it is that the echo of jim's wild yell was still ringing in the woods when she landed with a thump that brought forth a grunt. then, instead of the mad flight on which the guide had counted, she reared on her haunches with her back to the tree, growling savagely, her little pig eyes red with rage. [illustration: "run!" he yelled] big jim took in the situation at a glance. "run!" he yelled, himself holding his ground and swinging aloft his double edged axe. even as he uttered the warning the bear charged. walter, who stood a little to one side, unconscious of what he was doing, hurled the pail he was holding full at the angry beast and turned to run. this proved the salvation of big jim. the rolling clattering object distracted the bear's attention for an instant. she paused long enough to give the pail a vicious blow which by chance sent it clattering noisily into the old windfall behind which the cubs had taken refuge. there was a frightened squeal followed by the sound of scurrying feet among dead leaves. big jim heard the squeal and understood. "cubs, by gum!" he exclaimed. the bear heard too. she stopped, irresolute, half turned toward the windfall, then faced the guide and reared, growling savagely. there was another faint squeal from beyond the windfall. the bear dropped to all fours and slowly retreated in the direction of her cubs, pausing every few steps to turn and growl threateningly over her shoulder. it was the guide's opportunity to retire in good order and he made haste to avail himself of it, reaching the clearing just in time to see chip and tug disappear down the home trail on the far side. now that the danger was over the humor of the situation tickled him immensely and as he with walter and woodhull approached billy all three were finding relief in a hearty laugh. all at once they became aware that there was something unusual about billy. he was dancing around the old stump like a lunatic, yelling, "i've got him, jim! i've got him! i've got him!" he was without his jacket and his shirt was in tatters. his face and arms were bleeding from deep scratches. the guide gaped at him open mouthed. "great smoke, sonny," he drawled, "yer look as if yer was th' one thet had met a bar, not us." "i have, jim, i have! it's in there!" yelped billy. the guide peeped into the hollow, and a long drawn whistle of astonishment escaped him. then abruptly his face sobered and he cast an apprehensive glance back at the forest. "must hev been three cubs," he said, reaching in and catching the whimpering little bear by the scruff of the neck. "bars don't generally hev but two, but i've heerd say thet sometimes they has three. this leetle chap must hev strayed off while his mother was a-clawin' fer thet honey. i reckon we better be movin' right along. it ain't goin' t' be no ways healthy round these parts when mrs. bar misses this leetle chap." wrapping the cub in billy's jacket once more big jim set the pace for camp at a rate that kept the smaller boys on a dog trot, not without many a fearful glance behind them. camp was reached safely, where the news of billy's capture spread like wild-fire, and for once he found himself the hero he had so often pictured himself; wherever he went he was the center of an admiring group. the doctor was petitioned in a round robin signed by every member of the camp for permission to keep the cub as a pet. this was granted, and "honey," as he was called, soon became one of the most important members of woodcraft, where his droll antics were a constant source of amusement. the delawares were jubilant, for billy's prize scored them fifty points, and when a few days later the second bee tree was successfully lined out and this time the honey obtained without adventure, billy's popularity was secure for all time, for this also added fifty points, as he had foreseen it would. "he was a harum-scarum before, and this sure will be the ruin of him," woodhull bewailed to his chum, seaforth. but woodhull was wrong. there was a change in billy. he was the same lovable, light-hearted boy as before, but the careless, reckless spirit that had so often led him into mischief was lacking. for the first time he seemed to have a serious purpose in life. and it dated back to the morning after the lonely night in the forest. billy was finding himself. "i reckon he did hear a bar thet night," said big jim to the doctor as they discussed billy's episode with the cub. and billy knows he did. chapter xiv the supreme test half-way between woodcraft and the durant lumber camp the trail crosses speckled brook, once a noted trout stream famed for the size of the spotted beauties that lurked in the black depths of its pools, or hung on the edge of its boiling rapids watching for the unfortunate grub or fly struggling helplessly on the shimmering surface of its swift current. persistent whipping day in and day out through the open seasons by anglers whose creed is little more than greed has robbed it of its fame for big strings, and the ruthless destruction of cover on its watersheds by the axe of the lumbermen has so reduced its water supply that a note of pathos has crept into the sweetness of its song and sadly marred the beauty of its forest setting. yet even now there is an indescribable charm about speckled brook, and in some of the deeper pools are finny warriors worthy the skill and patience of lovers of the rod. walter never could come within sound of its purling song without experiencing an irresistible desire to linger. it was calling to him now as with noiseless step he strode along the trail toward the durant camp. since his trip to lonesome pond he had continually practiced "still walking," whenever the opportunity offered. it had been the chief incentive for many a morning tramp. he had become fairly proficient by now, and on an ordinary trail walked with freedom and ease without giving conscious thought to his feet. twice he had surprised deer and frequently approached smaller game to within close range of observation before they became aware of his presence. each success brought with it a sense of growing skill, a feeling that in time he might fairly hope to pit his trained knowledge against the wonderful senses of the wild life around him with the advantage not wholly on their side. now as he came within sound of speckled brook he quickened his step that he might linger for a few minutes on the log bridge over which the trail ran. it was hidden from his view by a sharp turn so that he was almost upon it before he became aware that someone was before him. seated on a stringer of the bridge, his face buried in his arms, was a khaki and flannel clad figure. an expensive split-bamboo rod lay beside him unheeded, the tip jerking up and down in a way that evidenced something more than the current tugging at the end of the line. it was a pathetic figure, contrasting strangely with the joy of the beautiful morning. now and then there was a heave to the drooping shoulders, while a muffled sob mingled with the song of the brook. walter paused, irresolute. he had recognized harrison at the first glance, and his heart went out to the boy who had sought the sanctuary of the wilderness to give way to his misery where none should see. with an inborn delicacy of feeling walter turned softly, and without a sound stole back up the trail until the turn had effectually hidden him from view. the bitterest thing in a boy's life is to be seen in his hour of weakness by another boy. somehow it seems to rob him of something of his manhood. without analyzing it in this way walter felt that it would be unfair to hal to let him know that he had been seen crying. at the end of a hundred yards or so walter once more turned in the direction of the bridge, whistling shrilly. this time when he rounded the turn hal was on his feet rebaiting his hook, while a ten-inch trout flapped at his feet. his hat was pulled low over his face, but on his cheeks were traces of tears hastily wiped away. "hello, hal! what luck?" called walter cheerily as he approached. "i don't know as it's any business of yours. you see i'm not buying 'em, anyway," was the surly and bitter reply. walter flushed, and an angry retort rose to his lips, but with it came a vision of the picture of utter misery he had witnessed a few minutes before. he stepped forward and held out his hand. "don't, hal," he pleaded. "let's be friends." "you don't want me for a friend; nobody does," growled the other. "hal, i came pretty near punching your head once, or trying to, anyway. now i am coming back at you. when you say that i don't want you for a friend you are not telling the truth. now, are you going to punch my head or are you going to shake hands?" walter once more extended his hand, all his good humor restored. slowly the other reached forth and gripped it. "i--i guess i'll shake," he said, a sheepish smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. then he pushed back his hat and faced walter squarely. "it's mighty white of you, walt," he blurted out hurriedly. "i do want you for a friend. i guess i need friends if any fellow ever did. nobody's got any use for me back there," nodding in the direction of the camp, "and i can't get away, because i haven't anywhere to go. you see, my folks are all in europe for the summer. i'm stuck here, and i've got to stay." "i'm glad of it," said walter heartily. "wh-what do you mean?" demanded hal. "just what i say," replied the other. "i'm glad of it. you've got in wrong here with the camp. if you went away now you'd always be in wrong with the whole crowd. maybe you think that if you got away and never came back it wouldn't matter what the fellows think, but it would. they'd always remember you, not for what you really are but for what they think you are, and no matter how great a success you might make when you grow up you'd know all the time that a lot of people didn't believe in you. you've made a lot of mistakes. now you've got a chance to correct 'em right where you made 'em. you can't forget 'em yourself, and don't want to, but you can make the other fellows forget 'em; and they will, too, if you'll give 'em a chance. "your dad's got a lot of money, and i guess you've grown up to think that money is the only thing that counts. i s'pose it does count for a lot in the city, but out here in the woods it doesn't count a little bit. it's the fellow himself, the stuff that's in him, and not what he's got. you forget all about your dad, i mean his money, and sail in for everything that's doin' here, and you'll find that the boys will meet you more'n half-way. gee, i'm getting to be a regular preacher!" hal laughed, the first genuine laugh he had had for many a long day. "it's the best sermon i ever heard, walt," he said. his jaw suddenly shot forward in set lines. "by george, i believe you are right, and i'm going to fight it out right here!--if you'll help me," he added wistfully. "sure i'll help!" replied walter heartily, "and so will the rest of the fellows, if you'll give 'em a chance." hal gazed at the brook thoughtfully for a few minutes. "i--i hardly know how to begin," he said hesitatingly. "go hunt up chief avery of the senecas and tell him that you know you've made a mess of things and that you want to square yourself with the tribe and with the rest of the fellers. he'll help you out, and tell you what to do. he's white all through," advised walter. "i know he is," admitted hal. "he's been mighty decent to me. i guess if it hadn't been for him the other fellows would have refused to speak to me at all. i wish--i wish there was some way i could make up some of those points the tribe lost when i was found out. i can't do it fishing, for honest, walt, i don't know the fishing grounds at all. i tried to bribe pat malone to tell me where he caught those big fish, but he knew which side his bread was buttered. said he'd catch 'em for me, but i couldn't make him loosen up and show me where i could catch 'em myself. there's one fellow in the woods that money talks to all right, all right! he knew that as long as i had to have the points i'd pay for 'em, and he held me up a little stiffer each time. i don't see what got into him to come peach on me. did--did you put him up to it?" hal had the grace to blush as he asked the question, and before walter could reply he hastened to apologize. "i know you didn't. at first i was sure you did. i guess i was pretty sore. i thought you had it in for me, and i wouldn't blame you a little bit if you had had. but i don't see now what struck pat. do you know, i've always had more'n half a suspicion that he stole mother merriam's pin. i guess he could tell something about it if he was pinned right down to it." "forget it, hal," walter broke in. "you and most of the other fellows have got pat sized up all wrong. i don't know who stole the pin, but i do know it wasn't pat malone. i tell you that there isn't a scout in woodcraft camp that right down in his heart is whiter than pat. oh, he's tough, but that's because he's never had half a show. i didn't know a thing about his comin' into camp to see the big chief until it was all over. he did it because he's just begun to learn a few things about honor and what honor means. fact is, hal, i was up against it on this honor business myself. i didn't want to blab on you, and yet it wasn't fair to the other fellows to let you go on scoring when i knew that you weren't getting the points on the level. i was fishing with pat that morning and he found what was troubling me. he didn't say a word, but while i was off in the woods that afternoon he took a quick sneak into camp, and you know the result." hal nodded grimly. "i tell you, pat did a big thing," continued walter. "money doesn't grow on every bush in these woods, and those few dollars pat got from you meant more to him than a thousand dollar check would to you or me. and i don't think he did it just for me, either. i think he saw that you were playing it low down mean on the other fellows, and he began to see that by keeping mum and taking the money he was a party to it. pat came in and told, to clear himself in his own mind. i tell you he has the scout idea all right, and he's got it straight. i don't believe i'd have had the sand to do what he did." the expression on hal's face had changed curiously as walter spoke. he was seeing things in a light that he had never seen them before, getting a new perspective of life. "walt, did pat show you his fishing ground?" he asked abruptly. "no, i stumbled on it myself." the other laughed a little embarrassed laugh. "i just wanted to be sure," he replied. "i've tried mighty hard to fool myself into believing that you succeeded in bribing pat where i failed, perhaps not with money, but in some way. i heard all about how you licked him the morning you got here and i thought that--that maybe you--you----" he paused and flushed painfully. "you thought that i promised pat another licking if he didn't show me where the fish are," walter finished for him. "something of that sort," admitted hal. "i didn't really believe it, but i wanted to, and i guess i tried mighty hard. but all the time i knew you were on the level and--and it made me sore to have you beat me twice with fish when i'd risked so much to win the points." "well, that's all past, and we'll let the past dig its own grave and bury itself," said walter. "we're both on the level now, and we're goin' to stay there. i'd let you in on that fishin' ground, only when i found it i found pat there and i promised him not to tell a soul. isn't there somethin' else you're interested in that you can go in for points on?" "i don't know," replied hal thoughtfully. "i like to paddle pretty well." "great!" cried walter. "go in for it, and go in hard. you know i'm out for the quarter-mile swim. pluggin' at it every day. you do the same thing with your paddling. get next to avery and tell him what you want to do and that you really mean it. he'll get a coach for you before you can turn 'round. the senecas need every point they can get, and avery knows it. you see the delawares are just naturally goin' to trim you fellows," concluded walter with a grin. "they sure would if there were any more senecas like me," said hal mournfully. then his face cleared, and he began to reel in his line. "i'm goin' straight back to camp now and hunt up avery and ask for a chance to make good!" "that's the stuff!" cried walter heartily. "here's luck to you, old man! i'm awfully glad we're friends at last. i'm off to the durant camp. got a permit this morning. never was in a real logging camp, and pat's goin' to show me the whole thing. keep a stiff upper lip!" the boys shook hands warmly, and while walter with a light step and lighter heart hit the trail for the lumber camp hal resolutely set his face toward woodcraft. it was not an easy thing that lay before him. it was hard, bitterly hard. he had not realized how hard until he had left walter and faced the thing alone. never in his whole pampered life had he had to stand alone on his own feet. now he faced the severest test a boy can face. dimly he realized that it was a crisis in his life--a call to his manhood. could he meet it? could he? "i will! i will! i will!" he repeated over and over. "i will! i will! i will!" presently he began to run, fearing that his courage would fail him before he could find avery and make a clean breast of matters. when he came in sight of the camp he slowed down. it was going to be even harder than he had thought. perhaps avery wouldn't be there. he found himself hoping that he wouldn't. was it really necessary after all to so humiliate himself? perhaps if he waited a little he could do some big thing that would win the fellows over to him. other fellows were all the time doing things, why shouldn't he? there was billy buxby with his bee trees and bear. why couldn't he do something big like that? hal was fighting a battle, the hardest battle that boy or man is ever called to engage in--a battle with self, a fight to a finish for the right to look himself in the face without blushing, a fight for his manhood. beads of cold perspiration broke out on his forehead. and then he looked up and saw avery standing in front of the wigwam. the battle would be won or lost in the next few minutes. for an instant he faltered. then his jaw shot forward in hard set lines as it had back there in the woods with walter. "i will! i will! i will!" he muttered. somehow with every repetition of those little words the way seemed easier. and then in a flash came the idea for the supreme test of the manhood within struggling to come into its own. he began to run once more, to run away from the coward striving to hold him back, from the hal harrison he had known so long, that the whole camp knew. "chief," he panted, saluting avery, "may i--may i see you alone for a few minutes?" avery led the way into the deserted wigwam. what passed there is known only to the two lads themselves. when they came out the face of the younger boy was pale, but it bore a look of fixed resolve, and there were lines of character which had wiped out much of the old weakness. "you are quite sure you want to do this thing, hal? you know it is not necessary," said the chief. "yes it is necessary--for me," replied hal firmly, "and i've simply got to do it for--for myself." after evening mess chief avery requested the senecas to remain for a few minutes, and after the hurons had filed out he briefly announced that one of their number wished to say a few words. hal rose and faced his comrades. his knees shook so that he could hardly stand, and little streams of perspiration trickled down his face. but there was that new set to the jaw, and though he gulped painfully once or twice, he plunged into the task he had set himself. "fellow scouts," he began, "i--i want to apologize to all of you for what i have done and for the disgrace i've brought on the tribe. i'm sorry. i didn't realize what i was doin'. i knew that the fellows didn't like me, and--and i wanted to be popular," he blundered on. "i thought if i scored a lot of points for the tribe that maybe i should be and--and i didn't see any other way. i've made an awful mess of things, and i see it now. i'd like a chance to start over again, and--and maybe really do something for the tribe. i--i--want to make good and--and have some friends among the fellows," he ended lamely. he sat down weakly, and buried his face on his arms. at a sign from the chief the tribe filed out quietly. when the last one had gone he walked over and put his hand on the bowed head at the end of the table. "hal," he said gently, "you have made good. that was the bravest act i've ever seen in woodcraft camp. we're prouder to have you a seneca than we would be to win that deer's head. that was the supreme test, and we're proud, all of us, to have a fellow tribesman with the sand to meet it as you have done. you'll find that you have won your friends, boy." later, when hal had recovered his self-possession somewhat and went out among his comrades, he found that it was as avery had said. on all sides were friendly hands to greet him, and in a quiet unobtrusive way his fellow scouts made it clear to him that at last he was one of them. he had already made good. chapter xv crafty mike when walter parted from hal at speckled brook he quickened his pace to make up for lost time. presently he came in sight of the durant camp. pat malone, whose official capacity at the camp was that of "chore boy," was on his way to the spring with a couple of empty pails. his usual good-natured grin lighted his face at walter's approach. "oi'd begun t' think ye was afther fergittin' ye had an ingagement wid yer frind av th' woods," he called. "hello, pat! sorry i'm late," replied walter, offering to carry one of the pails. pat waved him aside. "shure, wud ye be takin' th' bread an' butter out av the mouth av a poor worrkin' man?" he demanded. "'tis me job fer which oi draws me pay, an' now oi've lost me market fer fish oi'm thinkin' oi'd best be shure av me shtupendous sal'ry." he picked up the pails brimming with cold spring water and started for the rear of the main cabin, whence the voice of "cookie" could be heard commanding him to hurry, and heaping anathemas upon him for a lazy, good-for-nothing ne'er-do-well. pat winked. "dogs that bark be afther havin' poor teeth," said he. "oi'll be wid ye in a minute." he was as good as his word, and was soon ready to play the host. walter found the camp similar in arrangement to woodcraft. it lacked the refinements of the latter, but was snug and comfortable, exactly adapted to the needs of the rough men to whom it was "home" the greater part of the year. when they had thoroughly inspected the cabins, stable and shop pat suggested that they visit the present "cutting." this walter was most anxious to do, for he had never witnessed actual logging operations. the trail was rough but well built, for upon the character of the trail depends much of the lumberman's success in getting his logs to the water. a poorly built trail means costly waste of time, energy and strength of man and beast when the time comes for getting the cut down to the driving point. wherever the trail dipped to low or swampy ground logs had been laid with their sides touching one another. this is called a corduroy road, and is the only practical and effective method of preventing horses and wagons miring in low, swampy ground. such a trail is rough traveling in dry weather, but when the heavy snows of winter have covered it and have been packed down and iced it forms an ideal slide for the lumber bobs with their huge loads of logs. the trail gradually led up the lower slopes of old scraggy, and some two miles from the camp the boys came upon one of the crews at work. the crash of falling trees, the rasp of saws, the sharp ringing blows of axes biting into hard wood, the shouting of rough voices and now and then a snatch of rude song proclaimed that the work of destruction was in full blast. the scene was one of intense interest to the city boy, and quite upset his preconceived ideas of how trees are felled. "why, i thought they chopped trees down!" he exclaimed. "not whin they've a good saw an' two good byes fer th' inds av it," said pat. they walked over to where a couple of saw men were preparing to cut a great pine. there was a fascination in watching the huge cross-cut saw with its double hand grasp at each end eat its way into the trunk of the great tree, the two men swaying back and forth in perfect rhythm, broken only when it became necessary to drive in the wedges that kept the saw from binding and that would eventually send the tree crashing down on the exact spot that they had picked out for it. soon there came the warning snap of breaking fibers, the great tree swayed slightly, leaned ever so little and then, as with a shout for all hands to stand clear the saw men sprang back, it slowly and majestically swung forward until, gathering speed, it fell with a mighty crash, carrying down several small trees that stood in its path, and shivering its upper branches as it struck the earth. it seemed to walter as if it had hardly struck before the axemen were upon it, their great double edged axes flashing in the sun as they stripped off branch and stub until in an incredibly short time it lay shorn of its glory, a huge bare pole fit to be the mast of one of the yankee clippers that were once the pride of the american marine. but no such honor awaited it. another team of sawyers attacked it at once, cutting it into mill lengths. then came "jim." jim, so pat proudly claimed, was "some hoss." clanking at his heels was a stout chain ending in a sharp heavy hook. this was driven into one end of one of the logs and then at a word from his master--one could hardly say driver, for there were no reins--the big horse set his neck into his collar and guided solely by the "gee" and "haw" of shouted command dragged his burden down to the skidway where the logs were piled to await the coming of snow. it was wonderful to see with what intelligence the horse picked his way through the tangled brush, and it was equally wonderful to see the lumber-jacks at the skidway catch the great log with their peaveys and roll it up to the very top of the huge pile already on the skids. a rough lot, these lumbermen, of many nationalities, english, irish, scotch, french "canucks," a half-breed or two, and some who boasted that they were pure "yank." they were rough in looks and rough of speech, ready to fight at the drop of a hat, but warm-hearted, loyal to a fault to their employers, ever ready for work or frolic. rough indeed, but theirs is a rough life. they took a kindly interest in walter, explaining the many things he found so strange, and it was with real regret that he finally took the back trail. and it was with something of sadness too, for he was a true lover of nature and there was something tragic in the crashing of those great trees and the despoiling of the great forest. but pat left him little time for thoughts of this kind. producing a bag of the famous cookies of which walter had once had a sample through the agency of chip harley, pat kept up a running fire of comment on his camp mates, while they munched the crisp brown wafers. as they sighted the camp the cook was hanging a wash. pat's eyes twinkled with mischief. motioning walter to follow him he stole in back of the stable. "shure 'tis meself that clane forgot to inthrodush ye to th' most important number av durant camp," he whispered. "shtay here till yez see some fun." he slipped into the stable, and in a few minutes was back, leaving the door open. peeping around the corner walter saw a crow walk out with the stately step of his tribe. "'tis crafty moike!" whispered pat. the black rascal stood for a minute or two blinking in the sun. then he flew up on the stable roof, where he appeared to have no interest in anything in the world save the proper preening and dressing of his feathers. in the meantime the cook finished hanging out his wash to dry and turned back to the cabin. hardly was he inside the door when crafty mike spread his wings and without a sound flew over to the clothes-line, where he quickly and deftly pulled out every pin, giving each a throw to one side. when the last pin was out and half the wash lay on the ground he flew swiftly to a tall pine on the far side of the clearing, cawing derisively as he went. it was plain that "cookie" knew only too well what the sound of that raucous voice meant. with a pot in one hand and a dish towel in the other he rushed from the cabin pouring out a perfect flood of vituperation and invective on his black tormentor, while behind the stable pat fairly hugged himself with glee. "caw, caw, billee, billee! caw, caw, caw!" shouted mike, sidling back and forth along a bare limb of the pine, evidently in huge enjoyment of the joke. "oi shplit his tongue so he talks a little, and billy is the cook's name," whispered pat, noting the look of amazement on walter's face when he heard the crow speak. "caw, caw, billee, billee!" mike was quite beside himself with enjoyment as he watched the angry cook pick up the fallen clothes, which he was too wise to rehang while the black rascal was at liberty. besides, many of them must be returned to the tub. "i'll blow your blasted head off, that's what i will!" shouted the cook furiously as he disappeared in the cabin with the last of the wash. in a moment he was out again with a shotgun in his hands. walter grabbed pat by one arm. "you're not going to let him shoot, are you, pat?" he asked in real alarm. pat chuckled. "don't yez worry about moike," he said. "'tis not fer nothin' oi named him crafty. he knows a gun as well as oi do, an' just how far it will carry." the cook was now sneaking toward the pine, apparently quite unconscious that he was all the time in plain view of his would-be victim. mike waited until he was half-way there, then spread his wings. the cook threw up the gun and blazed away with both barrels, though the range was hopelessly long, while mike's derisive, "caw, caw, billee, billee!" floated back from the shelter of a thick clump of hemlocks beyond. "but won't the cook get mike when he comes back?" walter asked with real concern. "moike won't come back to-night unless oi call him," replied pat. "'tis a woise burrd he be afther bein'! whin oi go in oi'll tell cookie how much the byes will enjoy th' joke whin they come in. he'll shware a bit an' thin he'll be afther beggin' me not to say a wurrd about it. oi'll promise if he'll promise to lave moike alone, an' that'll be th' ind av it till nixt toime." it was evident that pat and mike knew their man and were wise with the wisdom of experience. "moike is a great burrd," continued pat. "he's as full av tricks as a dog is av fleas, an' th' wurst thafe in three counties, bad cess ter him. he'd shtale th' shmoile off yez face if it was broight enough an' he could pry it loose. he'd follow me into th' prisince av th' saints. oi have ter shut him up whiniver oi lave th' camp or, glory be, he'll be taggin' along an' mebbe gettin' me in all sorts av throuble. but oi love th' ould rascal just th' same." at pat's mention of mike's thieving proclivities a startling thought flashed into walter's mind. had he at last found the long lost clue? "pat," he broke in abruptly, "did mike ever follow you to woodcraft?" pat scratched his head in an effort to remember. "oi couldn't say," he replied. "oi think loikely, fer there's few places he hasn't followed me." "would he follow you there now if you'd let him?" asked walter. "shure! oi couldn't lose him if he wance saw me hittin' th' trail." "can you call him now?" pursued walter. "sure!" pat answered promptly. "listen, pat," said walter eagerly, and he hurriedly told pat all about the loss of mother merriam's pin, discreetly omitting all reference to the suspicion against pat himself so long entertained at the camp. "th' dirthy thafe!" broke in pat indignantly. "now who could it be, oi wonder! none av th' byes here wud do a thrick loike thot, and yez say there was no sthrangers in camp. but what has all this got to do with moike?" "i'm coming to that," said walter. "maybe it hasn't anything to do with him. that's what i want to find out. maybe you don't remember coming into camp on an errand that morning and visiting dr. merriam's office, but you did. now, if mike had been following you, and had seen that pin on the window sill would he have been likely to have picked it up and carried it off?" "as sure as little pigs has curly tails," replied pat with conviction. "oh, th' villain! it's mesilf will wring th' black neck av him with me own hands wance oi git thim on him!" he exclaimed, a realizing sense of the situation and the position in which he had been placed dawning on him. "'tis a wonder yez didn't arrist me fer th' thafe, and oi wud not have blamed ye at all, at all! just lave me get th' two hands av me on that burrd! sure his heart be as black as his coat!" walter laughed. "wait a while, pat, wait a while," he said. "we don't know yet that mike had anything to do with it. now here's my plan: you call mike so that he can see us start down the trail to woodcraft. then you go with me until we get almost in sight of the camp. i'll leave you there and go ahead. i'll get a bright button or something and put it on the window sill of mother merriam's window and then get out of sight. then i'll whistle three times and you come along in as if you had an errand at the office. go right by the window and around to the front door, where i'll meet you. then we'll watch mike and see what he does." "walter, me bye, 'tis a great nut yez have on the two shoulders av yez!" exclaimed pat admiringly. "we'll do ut." he put his fingers to his mouth and whistled shrilly. at once there was an answering caw from the distant hemlocks, and mike appeared winging his way toward them but, with the canny wisdom which had earned him his name, giving the cabin a wide berth. he dropped down to pat's shoulder at once, where he jabbered in crow talk as if telling pat all about his joke on the cook, all the time studying walter with eyes so bright and sharp as to make the boy almost uncomfortable. without further delay they started for woodcraft, the crow riding on pat's shoulder or occasionally flying a short distance ahead. at the edge of the woods pat sat down to wait while walter hurried ahead. hunting through his ditty bag he found a bright brass button and hurried over to the office. fortunately no one was about. putting the button on the sill where the pin had been left the morning of its disappearance he slipped around in front and gave pat the signal. pat came at once, but mike, distrustful of the camp or perhaps plotting mischief, lingered behind. pat passed the window and joined walter in front of the office. then they cautiously peeped around the corner to watch mike. as soon as he discovered that pat was out of sight he quickened his flight and winged his way directly toward the rear of the office. the two boys watching could see him turn his head from side to side as he flew, his bright eyes scanning everything in sight. when he reached a point abreast of and above the window he made an abrupt half circle, dropped down to the sill as silently as a shadow, seized the button and then, mounting high, winged his way in strong swift flight "as straight as the crow flies" for durant camp. "the black scoundrel!" murmured pat. "the black-hearted thafe!" it was too late for walter to think of returning to the lumber camp that afternoon, and he had an engagement the next morning at nine. "lave it to me," said pat. "oi know ivery hidin' place av th' ould thafe, an' if he shtole the pin 'tis in wan av thim this very minnut. if thot robber took th' pin, an' oi misthrust he did, 'tis pat malone that will have it back here by half afther eight to-morrow marnin'." after evening mess walter called tug and chip to one side. "i've got a clue," he announced with pardonable excitement. "what is it? who is it?" they demanded as one. "i'll tell you to-morrow morning at half-past eight," replied walter, and that was all they could get out of him that night. walter slept but poorly. he was burning with curiosity to know the result of pat's search, and he was alternately filled with joy at the thought of being able to return the precious pin to mother merriam, and torn with the fear that crafty mike might have lived up to his name and hidden his prize beyond pat's reach. by eight o'clock the next morning he could wait no longer and started up the durant trail. it was just before he reached speckled brook that he heard pat's shrill whistle, and by the sound of it he knew that there was good news. a few minutes later pat swung into view. crafty mike, looking abject and bedraggled, was tucked securely under one arm, while the free hand was jammed in a trousers pocket. pat's freckled face stretched into a broad smile as he caught sight of walter. he drew his hand from his pocket and spread it wide open. there in the palm, side by side, lay mother merriam's pin and the brass button which had proved mike's undoing. walter sent forth a joyous whoop, and did a war dance that was expressive if not dignified. before going to the big chief tug and chip were taken into confidence and shown the pin and the thief under pledge of secrecy. then pat and walter started for the office. in response to dr. merriam's cheery "come in," the two boys entered, walter elated and pat diffident. walter had carefully prepared a little speech, but in the excitement of the moment it went completely out of his head. he did remember to salute his chief, and then he blurted out the news so fast that the words fairly tripped over each other: "we've found mother merriam's pin, and we've found who the thief is, and----" "wait a minute," interrupted the doctor, smiling. "what is this about mother merriam's pin?" for answer pat extended his hand with the pin on the broad palm. the doctor's face lighted with pleasure as he reached out to take it. "but the thief?" he said. "i don't quite understand." "here he is, sor," said pat, thrusting forward the protesting mike. the doctor's face was a study as he bade the boys sit down and tell him the whole story. when they had finished he quietly questioned them until he had drawn from walter all that he had hitherto kept from pat, how the latter had been suspected, how he had been sure that pat was innocent, how he had found the crow's feather caught in the screen, and how this fact had come to his mind as soon as pat had mentioned mike's thieving propensities. "upton, i want you and malone, and mike, too," he added with a whimsical smile, "to remain here until i return." he left the room, and a few minutes later walter was startled to hear the "recall" sounded. many of the boys had not yet left camp, and the others within hearing came hastening in. when they had all gathered the doctor stepped out in front. "some time ago," he began, "the 'recall' was sounded to tell you that a thief had been in our midst, and to ask you to give of your services in an effort to regain the pin which had been stolen. it seemed to me that it was quite as important to again sound the 'recall' to tell you that the pin has been recovered." he paused as a stir ran through the group of boys, and they broke out in a hearty cheer. "and," he continued when quiet had been restored, "the thief taken, and that this happy result has been accomplished by one of your own members. who that member is i am not going to tell you, but i want you to know that i consider that in his whole course of action he has displayed the very highest form of scoutcraft, for he has not only apprehended the thief and recovered the plunder, but what is of vastly more importance, he has removed unjust suspicion from one whose good name not one of you has had real cause to doubt." he then briefly sketched the story of the search for and the finding of the pin, no names being mentioned, and concluded by bringing forth the pin and crafty mike for all to see. sitting in the office walter and pat had heard every word, and walter's face glowed with pleasure at the doctor's praise. he felt that his reward had been great indeed, and when the doctor concluded by saying that fifty points would be credited to the delawares in recognition of his work, his joy was complete. an hour later pat malone paused on the trail to durant camp to look with shining eyes at a gold piece in his hand. "caw," said crafty mike, looking down from his shoulder with greedy eyes. "shut up fer a black-hearted thafe!" growled pat. "sure, 'tis me ruin an' me fortune that yez are loike ter be." chapter xvi the poacher of lonesome pond hal and walter stood at the landing waiting for the launch with the day's mail and express matter. there had been an unfortunate error in ordering the needed photographic chemicals, and walter was still in ignorance of the results of his trip to lonesome pond. as the packages were thrown out his eye caught the familiar label of the photographic supply house. "hurrah!" he shouted, pouncing on the long-looked-for package, "i'm off to get first crack at that dark room. want to come in with me while i develop, hal?" "i sure do," was harrison's prompt response. "i'm almost as anxious as you are to know what you've got on those films. the results may make a big difference to us senecas, you know. we can't give the delawares many more points." as they started toward the office big jim and a stranger passed them talking earnestly. the latter had come in the launch. he was a man of medium build. his hair and eyes were gray, the latter clear and keen. there was nothing to especially distinguish him from the general run of guides of that region. "who is he?" asked hal of billy buxby, who had saluted the stranger. "game warden," replied billy, briefly. "been a lot of deer shootin' round these diggings, so they say, and the big chief has been trying for some time to get the warden up here. now he's here i reckon there'll be something doing." walter thought of his experience at lonesome pond, and wondered if the warden would go in there. as the boys passed through the office to the dark room dr. merriam, big jim and the warden were in earnest conversation. "whom do you suspect, jim?" it was the warden who spoke. "red pete," replied the guide promptly. "but yer understand i ain't got a mite o' proof. ain't seen hide nor har o' him, but i've seen signs thet spells red pete t' me. o' course some o' th' boys up t' th' camp will go out and get a piece o' meat once in a while, but thet ain't doin' no great harm." "it ought to be stopped, jim!" the doctor broke in sharply. "the law is law, meant for the lumber-jack just as much as for the city sportsman. i have no patience with this attitude of the natives that the law is made for the other fellows, not for them. either the laws should be wiped off the statute books or they should be enforced to the letter without discrimination or favor." "thet may be so, doctor, but folks 'round here don't sense it thet way," replied big jim. "anyway, th' real harm thet's bein' done th' deer is from some low down skunk thet's too lazy t' do honest work an' is jes' shootin' fer th' lumber camps. an' if it ain't red pete may i never sight another rifle! nobody knows whar he is, or if they do they won't tell. you git yer hands on red pete, and this deer shootin' will stop." the boys passed into the dark room and heard no more. walter at once prepared his developer and also a fresh supply of hypo, for he was resolved that no precaution should be neglected to get all that might be in the negatives. "going to use tank development?" asked hal. "no," replied walter, "i'm not. ordinarily i should, but i'm going to give each of these films separate treatment, and develop each for all that it holds. you know i want another fifty points," he added. the daylight subjects were developed first and, with the exception of one fogged across one corner, were all that could be desired. walter was particularly pleased with the results of his first successful shots on the way in to lonesome pond, and as the image of the great blue heron rapidly increased in strength under his skilful manipulation of the developer he confided to hal how his rattled nerves had led him to miss two splendid chances previous to the opportunity afforded by the heron. a portrait of big jim holding up walter's double catch of trout would have been hard to improve, and hal, looking over the other's shoulder, blushed as he recalled the big trout he had bought only to be beaten by the catch of which he now saw the proof growing before his eyes. for the flashlights walter prepared a special developer, and as it washed over the first film both boys bent over the tray eagerly. almost at once three spots, one slightly above the other two, appeared, and these rapidly took outline until the eager watchers could see clearly the doe and three fawns of lonesome pond. "hip, hip hurrah!" shouted hal, slapping walter on the back. "there are your fifty points for the delawares!" "now for the last one of all," said walter as, the others all in the hypo, he picked up the negative made by the flash on the runway. "i knew what ought to be on the others, but i don't know what ought to be on this except that it ought to be a deer." he bent impatiently over the tray, gently rocking the developer back and forth over the negative. presently he looked up, and in the dim ruby light hal could see a puzzled frown wrinkling his forehead. "that's the queerest thing i ever got up against!" he exclaimed. "i can make out the horns of a big buck, but they seem to be all mixed up with the figure of a man. if i hadn't taken such mighty good care of these films i'd say that it was a case of double exposure. must be that i had another case of rattles, and forgot to pull the tab of the one made just before the flashlight, and so made the latter right on top of the former. yet this doesn't act like an over-exposed negative, and a double exposure would be an over-exposure. oh, well, i give it up! we'll see what it looks like when it comes out of the hypo. here it goes in. now open that door, hal, and i'll open the window. i'm about roasted." hal threw open the door and the two boys stepped out into the office. the doctor was still there, but big jim and the warden were nowhere to be seen. at the sound of the opening door the doctor looked up. "we beg your pardon, doctor, and hope that we haven't disturbed you," said walter. "not in the least, upton," he replied smilingly. "i presume you have been developing those lonesome pond negatives, and to tell you the truth i am almost as anxious to see them as you are yourself. you see big jim has told me all about that trip, and he was positively enthusiastic over the flashing of the three deer." the doctor came over to the dark room and stepped in. "i presume they are about fixed by this time," he said, dipping his hand into the fixing bath and taking out a negative. he held it to the light and examined it critically. "just a trifle over time, don't you think, upton? still it is an excellent negative, and the composition is admirable. hello, what's this?" he had dropped the first one into a tray of running water and had picked up a second which he was turning round and round in his hands as if he hardly knew which was top and which was bottom. "ha, i have it!" an expression of perplexity passed over his face and his brows puckered. "what's this, upton?" he asked. "i didn't hear anything about any such photo as this." walter stepped behind him and looked at the negative the doctor was holding to the light. at first he could make nothing of it but a tangle of foliage. then suddenly he saw against this background the figure of a man stooping beneath the burden of the body of a deer across his shoulders. walter's mouth gaped foolishly as he studied the negative. "what does it mean, upton?" the doctor repeated, a twinkle in his eyes as he saw the boy's vacant look. "i don't know, sir," replied walter truthfully enough. "but the negative is yours, isn't it?" persisted the doctor. "yes, sir. no, sir. that is--why, of course it must be mine," replied walter confusedly. "i don't understand it at all, sir." "how many flashlights did you make?" "two; the one of the three deer and the one on the run. this----" he paused as it flashed over him for the first time that this was a flashlight negative. "yes," said the doctor with a quizzical smile, "this is one of them. and as it certainly isn't the one of the three deer it is the one on the run." "but--but what does it mean?" asked hal, looking over the shoulders of the others. "it means," said the doctor gravely, "that upton has secured the evidence that will convict the poacher of lonesome pond." he dropped the film back in the fixing bath. "i see it is not quite clear yet. fix and wash it thoroughly and then if you can, upton, i wish you would make a print from this before jim and the warden return to-night. they have gone up to the durant camp to look about a bit. i must request you both to say nothing whatever about this matter until i give you permission. and of course you understand that the photograph is to be shown no one. bring the prints to me as soon as you have them made. if you have time make a print from each of your other negatives. we'll entertain the warden on his return." by noon the films were dry and by three o'clock that afternoon a complete set of prints was in dr. merriam's hands. late in the afternoon big jim and the warden returned, and shortly after the doctor sent for walter. "warden," said he, "this is upton, the lad who was with jim at lonesome. i've called him in thinking you may like to question him a bit as to conditions at lonesome, and also that he may have the pleasure of showing you some photos in which i know you will be interested, as will jim also. i tell you, warden, some of our boys are doing great work here! it takes something more than mere knowledge of photography to get such pictures as these! the man behind the camera has got to be something of a woodsman, as i think you will admit when you have looked these over." as he finished speaking he handed the package of prints to walter face down, and the boy, noting that they were numbered in consecutive order, instantly realized that this was a cue for him to show them in that order. as one by one the prints were laid on the desk big jim bent over them with all the enthusiasm of a great overgrown boy, telling the warden the story of each and making comments that made walter blush to the roots of his hair. when the beautiful picture of the doe and her two fawns was put before him jim's delight was without bounds. the doctor smiled. "so you think that's pretty good, do you, jim?" he asked. "good? it's the best i ever see!" exclaimed the guide. "upton has one that will interest you still more, i think, jim. show it, upton." the warden and guide leaned forward eagerly as walter placed the last print on the desk. for a full minute there was absolute stillness as the two men studied the print in surprised astonishment. walter will never forget the expression on the guide's face as he stared first at the doctor, then at walter and finally back at the print, while slowly comprehension of what it meant dawned. "what did i tell yer?" he roared, smiting the desk with a huge fist. "what did i tell yer? didn't i say it was red pete? is this evidence enough for yer, warden?" "it's evidence enough, jim; but say, i haven't got this through me yet. you didn't tell me anything about seeing red pete, let alone taking his photograph. it's a wonder he didn't put a knife in you for that." jim laughed. "i expect he would if he was sure what had happened," he replied. "yer see thet thar buck must hev taken one o' th' other runs an' reached th' lake, where pete was laying fer him. pete potted him, an' then waitin' just long enough t' bleed him an' take out his innards (i found 'em th' next mornin') he dug out 'fore we should come snoopin' round. he jes' happened t' hit th' run th' camera was on, an' o' course he fired th' flash. oh, glory! i wish i could hev seen his face right after thet flash! i bet every black har on his head was standin' on end an' thet pete was reelin' off prayers t' every saint he's ever heard o' as fast as his tongue could go!" "i notice that he held on to the deer," observed the warden dryly. "you bet he did!" replied jim. "thet flash jes' naturally blinded him fer a few minutes, an' he couldn't see nothin'! then he heered us comin' on th' jump an' he didn't hev no time t' look fer th' camera an' bust it. he jes' hit th' trail double quick a-trustin' t' luck thet we didn't git nothin'." "this is all the evidence i want," said the warden. "doctor, i want you to let me have jim for a couple of days. i need him, for pete's a slippery customer, and it'll need two of us to surprise him. we'll start for lonesome early to-morrow morning, and the less said about our movements the better. remember, boy, mum's the word," he added, turning to walter. jim had been studying the photograph closely. "whopping big buck pete's got thar!" he remarked, then added sharply, "son, come here an' tell me if this is a scratch on th' picter or if it's in th' picter!" the guide was pointing to a tiny white line on the shoulder of the deer. walter examined it closely. "it's in the picture," he said slowly. then, a startling idea slowly forming in his mind, he looked up at the guide, who instantly read his thought. "yes," said the big fellow with angry bitterness. "it's him. it's the king o' lonesome pond, th' big buck you 'n' me trailed thet mornin', murdered by a half-breed cutthroat who'd treat you 'n' me jes' th' same if he dared, an' he could see a dollar in it. i'm ready t' start when you are, warden, an' th' sooner i see his ugly mug behind th' bars th' sooner i kin enjoy my vittles agin." when the name of red pete was first mentioned it had sounded strangely familiar to walter, but try as he would he could not place it. now as he studied the photograph he recognized the low-browed, surly axeman who had been in the waiting room at upper chain the morning of his arrival in the woods, and there flashed through his mind big jim's characterization of pete that morning as the "meanest man in th' mountains." how little he had dreamed that their lines would ever cross, and now--he shivered involuntarily as he wondered what the outcome would be and what would happen if the outlaw should chance to learn of the evidence walter now held in his hand. "i--i guess you'd better keep the film and the prints," he said, turning to dr. merriam, and breathed easier as the doctor took them. then excusing himself, he hurried out to find hal and warn him not to breathe a word about the second flashlight picture. did red pete suspect? and if so what if he should happen to meet him alone in the woods? for the next few days he seldom went far from camp, and never alone. even then he had the feeling of being watched, and would turn suddenly half in fear and half in hope that he might catch a glimpse of the breed's threatening face peering from some leafy screen. walter's nerves were playing him tricks. nor did they become any easier when the warden and jim returned empty handed from lonesome pond. they had found plenty of traces of the poacher, in fact had found his camp, but it was evident that the outlaw had transferred his headquarters elsewhere. owing to other business the warden was obliged to postpone the search for the time being, but left with a promise to return at an early date to run pete down. in the meantime walter continued to feel uneasy, and the lumber camp to enjoy fresh "veal." chapter xvii the haunted cabin "what's on this afternoon?" "nothin' much." "come on, push it out! if it's nothin' much the sooner it's out of your system the better." "well, what's the matter with a visit to the haunted cabin? i guess we can get a permit all right." the speakers were hal harrison and walter. they had just met after noon mess, and the proposal to visit the haunted cabin came from hal. "great idea," exclaimed walter. "there's chief avery over there now! you tackle him while i hunt up woodhull. i'm pretty sure he'll let me go." permission was readily granted, and the two boys at once launched a canoe, and pointing the bow up and across the lake soon left the camp behind. the haunted cabin was the same to which walter had heard veiled allusions on his first day in camp, and to which he supposed he had been carried for his initiation ordeal. ever since then he had intended to visit it, but until now there had never seemed a good opportunity. it was located on the other side of the lake some three miles up, and was a half mile back from the water some little distance off to one side of a lumber trail. as it was out of bounds, it was necessary to get permission from the chiefs in order to visit it. "what do you know about it, walter?" asked hal as they sent their light craft swiftly over the water. "not much except that there was a murder or a fight or somethin' of the kind there years ago. do you know anything about it?" "only the stories that are floatin' 'round, and no two agree," replied hal. "i've been kind of interested, and have run down all the stories i could get hold of. i guess there was a tragedy there all right, but from all i can gather it was a fair fight, and not a cold-blooded crime. the story that seems to be most generally accepted is that there was a fight over a girl. the cabin was built by an old half-breed trapper before there were any lumber trails through these parts at all, and he lived there with his daughter, who was said to be a mighty pretty girl. the old fellow's name was duquesne, but he was more indian than french, and was commonly called indian joe. he was a grouchy old fellow, and people didn't have any more to do with him than they had to. "the girl was a beauty, and old joe was so jealous of her that he never would let her out of his sight when they came down to the village to trade, and the young fellows of the region found that the vicinity of old joe's cabin was anything but healthy. finally a young scotchman named bruce moved down here from canada and ran a line of traps up in the region that joe had come to consider his own special preserve. this was bad enough, and roused all the indian in him, but when he discovered that young bruce had fallen in love with the girl and that she was in love with him his rage knew no bounds and he made a lot of ugly threats, so that the friends of the young fellow warned him to keep away from the cabin, and i guess the girl begged him to also. "but bruce was hot-headed and afraid of nothing and no one. when he heard of the threats he rightly guessed that things were probably mighty uncomfortable for the girl, so he jumps into a canoe and heads straight for the cabin. when he got there old joe was out on his trap line and the girl begged bruce to leave. but he wouldn't, and waited till the old man came back. he was in the cabin when the old man returned and the latter got inside before he discovered the visitor. he started to throw his rifle up, but bruce was too quick for him and knocked it out of his hands. but the old man had a knife, and he didn't waste any time. he was all indian then, and was on bruce like a wildcat. "i guess bruce saw it was kill or be killed, with the girl for the stakes, so he whips out his own knife, and they turned that cabin into a shambles. "the young scotchman had the advantage of weight and youth, but joe was all indian, with every trick known to that kind of fighting, and with black hate in his heart. i guess it was some fight, all right, and the girl seeing the whole thing. finally bruce got in a lucky thrust that ended things and old joe with it. he was cut up something fierce himself and so weak from loss of blood that i guess he thought he was going to cash in. but the girl managed to bind him up and get him into the canoe, though how she did it no one knows, for the cabin is half a mile back from the lake. anyway, the first the village knew of it she came paddling in with bruce in the bottom of the canoe, more dead than alive. "you know lumbermen and backwoods people are awfully superstitious, and it wasn't long before they had the cabin haunted by indian joe's spirit, moaning for his lost daughter. hunters and trappers began to tell all sorts of stories of queer sounds around the cabin and soon no one would go near the old place. superstition's a queer thing, isn't it?" "you bet it is, and it isn't confined to lumbermen and backwoods people by a long shot!" replied walter. "what became of the girl?" "oh, bruce recovered, of course, and married her, and they moved up into canada. there's the landing at the lumber trail." a few minutes later they drew the canoe out on the shore. a lumberman's batteau was drawn up at one side, and they could hear voices ahead of them on the trail. "a party going up to the brown camp, i guess. i understand they've begun cutting about three miles back," said walter. the boys set out at a brisk pace along the trail. "avery says that the trail to the cabin is so overgrown that it's hard to find, but that there is a scout sign where it turns off of this trail, and then a line of old blazes," said hal. "it's on the right a short half mile from the lake." the boys slackened their pace, scanning the right hand side of the trail as they advanced. presently walter stopped and pointed to a little group of stones half hidden in the brush to the right. it consisted of a stone of fair size with a smaller one resting on top of it and a third on the ground to the right of the others. both boys recognized it as the old indian sign which means "trail to the right." turning in they soon found a tree with a blaze so old that it was nearly covered with bark. getting the direction from this they were able to sight the next blaze and so pick out the trail. "doesn't look as if any one had been over this for an age," said hal as they carefully picked their way along. in about fifteen minutes they saw an opening in the tree tops ahead and soon stepped out into what had once been a small clearing, but which was now overgrown with brush and berry thickets, and in places good stands of second growth birch and maple. in the midst of this dreary waste stood the "haunted cabin." the boys stood at a little distance and looked at it in silence for a few minutes, thinking of the tragedy which was said to have been enacted there. it was the usual type of log cabin, a one room affair with the remnants of a shed or small addition of some kind clinging to the rear. the cabin had been well built, for it was in a good state of preservation save that in places the roof had fallen, leaving black, yawning holes. it had been turfed at some time in its existence, and such parts as were intact were covered with a tangle of grass and weeds. altogether it was a desolate and dreary looking object. "gee, i don't wonder they think it's haunted! well, let's see what it looks like inside," said walter. they approached it from the front, and to their great surprise found the door still intact and closed. when they attempted to open it they were further mystified to find that it would not yield to their combined efforts. it was locked on the inside. "what do you know about that!" exclaimed hal. "let's try the back door." here a further surprise awaited them, for their entrance was as effectually barred as before. they stared at each other blankly. "wouldn't that get your goat!" muttered walter. "must be that some hunters have had nerve enough to use it, and have locked it up for safe keeping," he added with a half-hearted laugh. his eyes idly taking in the surroundings suddenly became fixed on a point a few feet distant. "say, hal," said he abruptly, "there's a path, and it looks to me as if it had been used lately. let's follow it." it certainly was a path, and with every evidence that it had been recently used. the boys followed it in puzzled silence until it abruptly terminated at a spring. it required no very keen observation to see that the spring had been cleaned out at no very distant day. as by a common impulse they turned and stared back at the cabin, which returned the stare with its gaping windows, as empty of life and forlorn in appearance as could well be imagined. and yet there was something sinister about the old ruin. it lay like a wet blanket on the buoyant spirit of adventure with which they had entered the clearing. walter gave a little embarrassed laugh as he said, "it's queer, but i've had a feeling of being watched ever since we struck the clearing. there's no reason for it, and yet i can't get rid of the idea that somebody's eyes are on us." "must be the 'hant,'" said hal with a laugh. but his face sobered as he added, "i've had an awfully uncomfortable feeling myself, walt. i don't believe i'm keen to crawl in one of those windows. reckon i've seen all i want to of the old place. what do you say if we go back?" "i've had enough," agreed walter. "i don't wonder they call the old thing haunted. guess that story got on our nerves all right. i never thought i was superstitious, but i sure would hate to spend a night here." the boys quickened their pace as they passed the ruin, throwing a hasty glance in at the yawning windows, but in the darkness of the interior they could make out little. "ugh!" said hal as they picked up the trail out, "i'm glad to leave the blamed old place. i guess it's haunted all right!" had he looked back and seen the venom in the pair of black eyes that, through one of the windows they had so recently passed, watched them disappear on the trail, he would have still further rejoiced that they were leaving the old ruin behind. they found the canoe where they had left it, but the batteau was gone. with hal in the stern and walter in the bow they soon had half a mile of open water between them and the shore. it was then that hal noticed for the first time that there was considerable water in the canoe and that it was increasing rapidly. his exclamation of dismay drew walter's attention to their predicament. the canoe had not leaked before--what did it mean? a hasty examination of the interior showed that the water was coming in slightly forward of walter's seat, and that at the rate it was gaining their little craft would soon be awash. there was nothing wherewith to bail except their hands or sneaks, and these were wholly inadequate in face of the fact that one must paddle. they did not dare go back whence they had come, for instinctively they felt that the source of their present difficulty lay there. camp was still some two and a half miles distant and the afternoon was growing late. it was a situation to test their powers of resource and scoutcraft to the fullest. walter hurriedly stripped off his trousers and shirt. "what are you going to do?" cried hal. "you can't swim from here to camp!" "don't intend to," responded walter hurriedly. "i'm goin' to try to find out what's happened to us. when i get out you get as far back on the stern as you can. that will put her bow clear out of water and give me a chance to see a good half of her bottom." with the words he plunged over, and hal crawled back as directed. walter came up at once under the bow and found that, as he had anticipated, he could examine easily the whole forward half of the canoe's bottom. it took but a moment to locate the trouble, two long gashes close to and parallel with the keel. "some one's cut it!" cried walter. "must be one of those lumber-jacks that was over there with the batteau did it. never knew of them doing anything like this before. they've played tricks on the fellows lots of times for fun, but never anything low down mean like this, or anything that meant danger. you stay back there and paddle a while, hal, and i'll swim. with her bow out that way she can't leak any more. by and by you can swim and i'll paddle. water's fine!" he added with a grin. the water had rushed to the stern and hal, sitting astride the canoe, was able to bail much of it out with one of walter's sneaks. then while walter swam he slowly paddled so as to remain close to the swimmer. the wind had begun to freshen a trifle and as they were heading it came from a point off the port quarter, and hal soon had his hands full to keep on the course at all, for the high bow was caught by every little gust and frequently he was spun around as if on a pivot. walter was swimming easily, but he realized that the distance to be covered was beyond his powers, and he thought rapidly as he swam. hal was not a strong swimmer, but would be able to cover a short distance while he had a breathing spell in the canoe. gradually he came to a realization of the struggle his comrade was having with the canoe, and that the latter's arms would be strained and weary when it came his turn to take to the water. they must try some other plan. studying the lines of the canoe he concluded that with both of them far back in the stern the gashes would be partly out of water, and that with both paddling they might make some distance before the water reached the danger point. then he could go overboard again and hal could bail out as before. this plan was at once tried and with both putting all their strength to the paddles they gained a full mile before it became necessary for walter to go overboard again. this time they were near a small island, and thither hal drove the canoe and had beached and emptied it by the time walter arrived. after a thorough rest they prepared to start again, when they spied a boat coming down the lake. one look was sufficient to assure them that their troubles were at an end. there was but one pair of shoulders in the woods like those sending the light craft toward them with powerful strokes. "jim! jim! oh, you jim!" they yelled shrilly. the rower stopped and turned toward them, then altered his course, and in a few minutes was resting on his oars alongshore while, both talking at once, they poured out their story and showed him the gashed canoe. the big fellow's face wore a look of perplexity as, with the boys in his boat and the canoe in tow, he headed for camp. "whar did ye say ye went when ye left th' canoe?" he asked. "up to the haunted cabin," replied walter. "was the hant t' hum?" he inquired with a grin. "no," said hal, "or if he was he was mighty seclusive. both doors were locked." "what's thet ye said, son?" demanded the guide sharply, as he stopped rowing for a minute. "i said the doors were locked and we couldn't get in," replied hal. "and there was a path down to the spring that looked as if some one had been using it," added walter. "prob'ly some lumberman been in thar fer a drink," said the guide with an assumption of carelessness, and then lapsed into such a state of abstraction that the boys gave up trying to interest him further. he came out of it as they approached the camp. "don't say nothin' 'bout this; jes' leave it t' me," he advised. "i'll explain it t' th' doctor. 'tain't like th' boys o' th' lumber camps t' do no sech trick as this, and i'd hate t' hev any feelin' stirred up. you boys jes' keep mum." the boys were quite willing to do so, and bidding them a hasty farewell jim strode off toward headquarters. "queer thing, the whole business," mused walter as they watched the guide disappear in the office. "i wonder what jim's got on his mind." and he would have wondered still more if he could have heard the guide exclaim, as he banged his big fist down on the desk at the end of a fifteen minutes' talk with the doctor: "it's him as sure as shootin'! we'll git him this time, or my name ain't jim everly!" chapter xviii on guard on the bald top of old scraggy stood a slender figure in khaki. the broad-brimmed regulation scout hat was tilted back, revealing a sun-browned face which was good to see. the eyes were clear and steady. the mouth might have been called weak but for a certain set of the jaw and a slight compression of the thin lips which denoted a latent force of will which would one day develop into power. it was, withal, a pleasant face, a face in which character was written, a face which denoted purpose and determination. the boy raised a pair of field-glasses to his eyes and swept the wonderful panorama of forest and lake that unfolded below him on every side. like mighty billows of living green the mountains rolled away to fade into the smoke haze that stretched along the horizon. the smell of smoke was in the air. over beyond mt. seward hung a huge cloud of dirty white against which rose great volumes of black, shading down to dingy sickening yellowish tinge at the horizon. through his glasses the boy could see this shot through here and there with angry red. there was something indescribably sinister and menacing in it, even to his inexperienced eyes. it was like a huge beast snarling and showing its teeth as it devoured its prey. on the back side of the camel's hump another fire was raging. but neither of these seriously threatened woodcraft camp, for a barrier of lakes lay between. "i'm glad they're no nearer," muttered the watcher half aloud. he swung his glasses around to the camp five miles away by the trail, though not more than three and a half in an air line, and his face softened as he studied the familiar scene. there was a song in his heart and the burden of it was, "they have got some use for me! they have got some use for me! they have got some use for me!" it was hal harrison. there had been a wonderful change in the boy in the few weeks since his meeting with walter upton at speckled brook. it had been a hard fight, a bitter fight; sometimes, it seemed to him, a losing fight. but he had triumphed in the end. he had "made good" with his fellow scouts. he had friends, a lot of them. with only one or two was he what might be called intimate, but on every side were friendly greetings. from being an outcast he had become a factor in the camp life. he was counted in as a matter of course in all the fun and frolic. he had done nothing "big" to win this regard. it was simply the result of meeting his fellows on their own ground and doing his share in the trivial things that go to make up daily life. he was thinking of this now and his changed attitude toward life, toward his fellow men. in a dim way he realized that a revolution had been worked within himself, and that his present status in the little democracy down there on the edge of the lake was due, not so much to a change in the general feeling of his comrades toward him, but in his own feeling toward them. his present position had always been his, but he had refused to take it. [illustration: the boys were drilled in wig-wag signaling] somehow money, which had been his sole standard whereby to judge his fellows, had dropped from his thought utterly as he strove to measure up his comrades. it had even become hateful to him as he gradually realized how less than nothing it is in the final summing up of true worth, of character and manhood. and with this knowledge all his old arrogance had fallen from him like a false garment, and in its place had developed a humility that cleared his vision and enabled him to see things in their true relations. "my, what a cad i was when i hit woodcraft, and how little i realized what the scout's oath means!" he murmured. "the fellows have been awfully white to me. if--if i could only do something to show 'em that i appreciate it, could only really and truly 'make good' somehow. seems to me this smoke is getting thicker." he turned once more toward seward. the wind was freshening and the smoke driven before it was settling in a great pall that spread and gradually blotted out mountain after mountain. the blue haze thickened in the valleys. when he turned again toward woodcraft it had become a blur. the sun, which had poured a flood of brilliant light from a cloudless sky, had become overcast and now burned an angry red ball through a murky atmosphere. his throat smarted from the acrid smoke. there was a strange silence, as if the great wilderness held its breath in hushed awe in the face of some dread catastrophe. hal was on guard. it was dr. merriam's policy to always maintain a watch on the top of old scraggy during dry weather that any fire which should start in the neighborhood might be detected in its incipient stages and a warning be flashed to camp. the boys were drilled in wig-wag signaling, and in the use of the heliograph, the former for use on a dull day and the latter on a bright day, the top of old scraggy being clearly visible from camp, so that with glasses the wig-wag signals could be read easily. at daybreak a watch was sent to the mountain station, while another went on duty at the camp to receive the signals. at noon both guards were relieved. only the steadiest and most reliable boys were detailed for this duty. this was hal's first assignment and, while he felt the responsibility, he had hit the scraggy trail with a light heart, for he realized the compliment to his scoutcraft. and was not this evidence that he was making good? the smoke thickened. the smart in his eyes and throat increased. uneasily he paced the little platform that had been built on the highest point. suddenly it seemed as if his heart stopped beating for just a second. why did the smoke seem so much thicker down there to the east at the very foot of scraggy itself? with trembling fingers he focussed the glasses. the smoke was rising at that point, not settling down! yes, he could not be mistaken, there was a flicker of red! there was a fire on the eastern slope! hastily he sprang for the mirror with which to signal his discovery, but even as his hand touched it he realized the futility of his purpose. the sun was hopelessly obscured by the smoke. the flags! he grasped them and turned toward the camp. where was the camp? vainly he sought to locate it. the smoke had drawn a curtain over it through which even his powerful glasses would not pierce. for a minute panic gripped him. then into the chaos of his mind broke the calm quiet voice of dr. merriam in one of his weekly talks at the camp-fire: "the man or boy to face an emergency is the one who keeps cool--who stops to think." deliberately hal forced himself to sit down on the edge of the platform and review the situation. it was five miles to camp. by the time he could get there and a party be organized and return the fire would have gained such headway that there would be no checking it. to the west, nearer by at least a mile and a half, lay the durant camp. but there was no broken trail there, nothing but a blazed trail which he had never even seen and which at best would be slow following. but hold on! the loggers were at work this side of the camp, not over two miles distant in a straight line! perhaps they would discover the fire. a moment's reflection, however, convinced him that this was unlikely, at least until it was too late. a shoulder of the mountain intervened. was he scout enough to hold his course for two miles through that tangle of wilderness? it seemed the only thing to do if he was to get a warning through in time. there was no time to lose! his lips tightened and he got up abruptly and began to tighten his belt. he would try it. he would do it! turning for another look at the fire his glance was arrested by a box half hidden beneath a corner of the platform. in a flash he was on his knees, half sobbing with relief as he dragged it forth. why hadn't he remembered jack appleby's wireless outfit before? jack had been on old scraggy the day before experimenting with wireless messages to camp, and had left his apparatus on the mountain, intending to return this afternoon to continue his experiments. how hal blessed the good fortune that had led him to take an interest in wireless and join the little group of boys who were continually experimenting with it in camp! there were several outfits there, and one or another was in use most of the time. he prayed with all his soul that such might be the case now, as, with hasty fingers, he adjusted the apparatus and sat down to the key. one after the other he sounded the private calls of all the stations in camp, between each call listening for a reply. would they never hear? click, click, click, click, over and over and over again he repeated the calls, while the cold sweat stood out on his forehead. would they never hear? would they never hear? should he give it up and make the plunge for the durant cutting? no, this was his best chance. click, click, click! what was the matter with them down there? ha! was that joe brown's answering signal? with feverish haste he pounded out in the morse code, "is this you, brown?" the reply came promptly: "yes. who are you?" with a sigh of relief hal bent over the key and forced himself to send his message slowly, that there might be no confusion in receiving it: "this is harrison, watch on scraggy. fire just started on eastern slope. warn doctor." "warn doctor of fire. all right," spelled the receiver at his ear. hal shouted aloud in his relief. hastily repacking the apparatus he turned to look down at the threatened danger. already the fire had gained great headway. would the doctor be able to bring help in time? a heavy stand of magnificent timber lay directly in the path of the flames. it was one of the choicest holdings of the durant company. the boy looked down at the durant cutting on the other side. if he could at once warn the men at work there they might reach the fire in time. he would try. carefully noting the direction with his pocket compass he headed straight for the cutting. that trip down the mountain is a nightmare to hal to this day. slipping, sliding down the steep upper slope, bruised by falls on rocky ledges, crawling under and over fallen timber, struggling through seemingly impassable windfalls, his shirt torn, his hat lost, his face and hands bleeding from numerous scratches he struggled on, running whenever the way was sufficiently open, stumbling, falling but doggedly holding to the course set by the little compass in his hand. it seemed an eternity before the sound of voices mingled with ringing blows of axes and the crashing of trees told him that he was almost there. a few minutes later he staggered out among the astonished loggers. his message was soon told, and almost before he had regained his wind the fire gangs were organized and with axes and shovels, the latter kept at hand for just such emergencies, were on their way to the scene of trouble. hal begged to go along, but the boss refused to let him. "you've done your part, my boy," he said kindly. "you can be of no help there and might be in danger. rest here a bit and then you trot along down to camp and tell cookie to fix you up and give you something to eat. son, you may not know it, but you're all in." hal did know it. now that the excitement was over he began to realize for the first time how utterly weary he was. he was weak and trembling. he felt the smart of his bruises and the ache of strained muscles. the boss was right. his place was in the rear, not on the firing line. a long rest at the durant camp and the friendly ministrations of cookie made him feel more like himself. late in the afternoon he hobbled into woodcraft. the camp was nearly deserted, for all of the older boys were on the fire line. walter was the first to see him, and hastened to congratulate him, for the whole camp knew by this time who had sent the warning. then others crowded around to shake hands and insist on hearing his story from his own lips. this hal told, omitting, however, to mention his terrific cross country struggle, explaining his bruises as the result of a tumble over a ledge. as soon as walter got a chance he drew hal to one side. "say," he began eagerly, "the game warden and a deputy started for the haunted cabin early this morning." "what for? to get the 'hant'?" asked hal. "exactly!" replied walter. "and the 'hant' is red pete! big jim figured it all out when he picked us up on the lake the other afternoon. you know they couldn't find pete up at lonesome pond. he probably got wise that jim would be on his trail after that shootin' while we were in camp there, and promptly vamoosed. when we told jim about the cabin's being locked and the path to the spring he tumbled in a minute. that was the safest place in the woods for pete, and he was probably right in the cabin when we tried the doors. jim went up there the next day and did a little scouting. he found a blind trail down to the lake a lot shorter than the trail we took. pete was probably afraid that we'd tell about the locked cabin and some one would get wise, so as soon as we were out of sight he made a quick sneak down to the lake ahead of us and slashed the canoe in the hope that we'd sink and get drowned. jim sent word to the warden, and now i guess there'll be something doing at the haunted cabin!" "how did you find out all this?" asked hal. "jim told me this morning. he was going in with the warden, but when your message came he had to go fight fire. he told me just before he started." "gee!" exclaimed hal. "some excitement to-day! do the other fellows know?" "no. jim said i could tell you, but that we're to keep it to ourselves." just after sundown the fire fighters returned, weary but triumphant. the fire had been gotten under control before serious damage had been done, but this would have been impossible but for the timely arrival of the durant gang, who were trained fire fighters, and who had reached the scene first. the boss had told the doctor of how he received the warning. the latter's first action on reaching camp was to issue orders for the preparation of a huge camp-fire to be started after evening mess. when this was lighted and the whole camp gathered round dr. merriam stepped into the circle for what the boys supposed was one of his usual camp-fire talks. he began by a brief review of scout principles and the need of coolness and clear thinking in the face of sudden emergency, and then briefly and forcefully he sketched hal's exploit of the day, ending by expressing his personal indebtedness to the boy who had, by using his head and supplementing this by a courageous act, saved property of great value. "it would not be inappropriate if there should be some expression of the camp's feeling at this time," concluded the doctor with a twinkle in his eyes. in a flash woodhull was on his feet. "the woodcraft yell for the seneca who has made good!" he shouted, and beating time with both arms he led the long rolling "whoop-yi-yi-yi! whoop-yi-yi-yi! whoop-yi-yi-yi! harrison!" then despite his efforts to escape hal was pushed to the center beside the big chief while the four tribes circled the fire in the mad dance of triumph. but the thing that was sweetest of all to the tired boy was the discovery that the senecas had been credited fifty points for his feat. at last he had done something to wipe out the old score. his cup was full. chapter xix for the honor of the tribe all of woodcraft who could get afloat were on the water, and those not so fortunate were ranged on points of vantage along the pier and on the shore. dr. and mother merriam, with some of the guests of the camp, parents of the boys in for the annual field day, occupied the end of the pier, which commanded the whole course and was directly on the finish line. among the most interested of the onlookers were mr. harrison and mr. upton, who had arrived that morning, taking their sons by surprise. the shore events had been run off in the forenoon, with honors well distributed. the algonquins, under chief seaforth, had won the rifle match. chief woodhull had scored heavily for the delawares by winning the trail finding contest, the stalking event and the mile cross-country "hike" without compass or trail. the relay race, high and broad jumps had gone to the hurons, while the senecas had taken the hundred yard and two hundred and twenty yard dashes. the points for the best individual work during the summer in the various branches of nature study had been awarded, and the total score in the contest between the two wigwams for the deer's head offered for the highest total was wigwam no. -- , points; wigwam no. -- , points. for tribal honors the delawares had a safe margin, but the championship banner would go to the winning tribe in the successful wigwam. excitement was at fever pitch, for on the outcome of the afternoon events hung the honors of the whole season. it was generally conceded that the hurons would take the swimming events handily, unless the delawares developed a dark horse. the senecas were strong in the canoe work, and they vowed that if the hurons tied the score with the swimming events they would win the canoe events. the swimming races were called first. before the first event chief woodhull called the delawares together. "i haven't much to say," he said as he looked into the eager faces of his tribe, "only this: i expect every delaware to do his best, not for his personal glory, but for the honor of his tribe and the honor of his wigwam. it is a great thing to win for yourself, but it is a greater thing to win for your fellows. when you reach the point where it seems as if you hadn't another ounce left just remember that the loss is not yours alone, but of the tribe who are pinning their faith to you. another thing; fight for second and third places just as hard as for first. it's the small points that are going to win that banner, and it's up to you individually to get every point you can. and," he added with a smile, "don't forget to cheer the other fellows when they win. if we must lose let's be good losers, but--_don't lose!_ that's all." the conditions were perfect for the afternoon's sport. the lake lay like a huge mirror, not a ripple breaking its glassy surface. clustered about the finish line were the camp canoes and boats and several launches filled with guests from the hotels at the other end of the lake. several batteaux filled with lumber-jacks from the durant camp lined the course. "gee, ain't it great?" said tug benson as he and walter paddled out to the raft from which the swimming races were to start. "you bet!" replied walter enthusiastically. "how you feeling?" "fine and dandy!" responded tug. "i'm goin' to take that hundred yards if i never swim another stroke!" "wish i felt as sure of a place in my event," said walter. "look a-here, you're goin' to get more than place--you're goin' to win that event! you've got to! what do you s'pose i've been coachin' you for all summer?" said tug savagely as he glared at his companion. they were to the raft by this time and as they hopped out and made their canoe fast they heard the starter announcing the first event, which was the hundred yard race. in all events for the afternoon first would count ten points, second five points and third three points. there were eight entries for this event, three hurons, two delawares, two senecas and one algonquin. "are you ready?" bang! there was one splash as the eight boys took the water. at the very first tug took the lead. the distance was too short to take any chances. he was using the crawl stroke, and his powerful muscles drove him through the water like a fish. but he had need of every bit of strength and skill he possessed. two of the hurons were pressing him close, and ten yards from the finish one of them forged up until the two boys were neck and neck. tug glanced ahead to locate the finish line, and gulped his lungs full of air. then, burying his face, he tore through the water like some strange amphibian, putting every last ounce of reserve strength into a supreme effort. bang! it was the finish gun, and the wild whoop of the delawares told him he had won, but he had hardly filled his strained lungs when the second and third guns told him by how narrow a margin he had snatched the victory. "two points to the good, anyway," he said grimly as woodhull helped him into a boat. this made the wigwam score , to , and the delawares and algonquins whooped deliriously. but their triumph was short lived. the two hundred and twenty yard event gave the hurons first and second and the senecas third. it was now the turn of the hurons and senecas to break loose, and they made the most of it, for this gave wigwam no. a lead of six points. "it's up to you now," growled tug in walter's ear as they stood side by side awaiting the starting gun in the quarter mile event. "i haven't a look-in, for that hundred killed me. but i'm goin' to set the pace for the first half, and you stick right to me. don't you pay any attention to the rest of 'em, but stick right to me. when i give the word you dig out, and win. remember, this is no sprintin' match!" the starting gun banged. when walter had shaken the water from his eyes and looked around he found tug at his side, swimming easily with a powerful overhand stroke. off to the right two of the hurons were using the crawl and were rapidly forging ahead. already they had a lead that gave walter a panicky feeling. tug looked at him and grinned. "water's fine," he grunted, for all the world as if this was nothing more than a pleasure swim. "get your back into that stroke." tug was still swimming easily, but he was putting more power into his strokes. walter followed his example and kept neck and neck with him. they were now the last of the field. the sprint of the two hurons had given them a good lead, and this had had its effect on the other swimmers, all of whom were putting forth every effort to overhaul the leaders. walter found that it took every bit of will power he possessed not to do the same. the pace was beginning to tell on those in front, but tug never varied his strong easy stroke and presently walter noticed that they were slowly but surely closing up the gap between them and the nearest competitors. they had now covered a third of the course and the leaders were still a long way ahead. would tug never hit it up? what was he waiting so long for? perhaps he was, as he had said, "all in," and couldn't go any faster. ought he to stay back as tug had told him to? if he should lose out for place the blame would be laid to him, not to tug. ha! tug had quickened the stroke a bit! it was not much, but there was a perceptible gain with each swing of the arms and kick of the legs. the half-way mark, and still tug did not give the word. what was the matter with him? he glanced at him anxiously, but the grin on that astute young gentleman's face revealed nothing, certainly not anxiety. two or three of the swimmers had begun to splash badly, notably the two hurons in the lead. walter had his second wind, and he found that he was holding tug with less effort than at first. he could hear the shrill yells of the hurons and senecas at the finish line as they urged on their braves, and there was an unmistakable note of triumph in every yell. it gave him a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "now go!" screamed a voice almost in his ear. dimly he realized that tug had given him the word. quickening his stroke he put in every ounce of reserve strength, and at once the result began to show. one after another he overtook and passed the other swimmers until there was only one between him and the finish line. the two hurons who had led so long were splashing in manifest distress. they were behind him now, their bolt shot, but still struggling gamely. but the swimmer ahead was a huron who had come up strongly in the last quarter. the pace was beginning to tell. every muscle in his body ached, and his straining lungs seemed to gasp in no air at all. he was neck and neck with the leader now, but his tortured muscles seemed on the point of refusing to act altogether. if he could only rest them just a second! ha, what was that? "whoop! hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! whoop! hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! whoop! hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! upton!" it was the long rolling yell of the delawares. it seemed to put new life into him. they were calling on him now for the honor of the tribe! he was almost there. could he make it? he would make it! he gulped his lungs full of air, buried his face in the water and swung into the crawl, and then it seemed to him that his movements were wholly automatic. "for the honor of the tribe. for the honor of the tribe. for the honor of the tribe." over and over his brain hammered that one phrase. the bang of the finish gun crashed into it, but for a minute he did not sense what it meant. "for the honor of the tribe," he murmured, weakly paddling the water with his hands. "and the honor of the boy!" cried a hearty voice, as strong hands caught the slack of his jersey and pulled him into a boat. he looked up in a daze into the face of woodhull. "did i win?" he gasped. "you sure did!" was the prompt response. "no, i didn't; tug did it," muttered walter to himself as he saw his coach wearily finish at the tail end. second place had gone to the hurons and third to the algonquins. the score now stood wigwam no. -- , ; wigwam no. -- , , and the excitement of the visitors was hardly less than that of the tribes as they waited for the canoe events. the fours were called first. there were four entries, one crew from each tribe, four brawny boys in each canoe, captained by the four chiefs. the distance was half a mile with a turn, start and finish being opposite the pier. a pretty sight they made as they lined up for the start, each boy on one knee, leaning well over the side of the canoe, blade poised just over the water at his utmost reach. almost with the flash of the gun the sixteen blades hit the water and, amid a wild tumult of yells, the canoes shot away like greyhounds from a leash. "did you get on to that start of the hurons--one long stroke, then five short ones and then the regular long stroke!" yelled billy buxby, whose sharp eyes seldom missed anything new. as a matter of fact this little trick had given the hurons the best of the start, the quick short strokes getting their boat under full headway before the others. but their advantage was short-lived, and it could be seen that as the turning buoys were approached they were last. "wonder if they'll spring something new on the turn," muttered billy, leaning forward until he threatened to upset his canoe. "ah, i thought so!" the delawares had reached the turn first with the senecas a close second and the algonquins third, but the leaders had not fairly straightened out for home when the hurons turned their buoy as if on a pivot and actually had the lead. in silence the spectators watched the flashing blades draw up the course. it was anybody's race, a "heart-breaker," as spud ely expressed it. like clockwork the blades rose and fell. the algonquins were using a long body swing. the senecas swung their shoulders only, and their stroke was shorter and faster. the hurons had dropped a little behind, but between the three leaders there was little to choose. "it's quite primeval, isn't it?" said mr. upton as he returned the binoculars which mr. harrison had loaned him. "that just expresses it," replied the latter as pandemonium broke loose in shrill yells from the four tribes urging on their crews. "the forest setting, the indian craft--it's all like a picture out of early history." the voices of the captains could now be heard calling for the final spurt. the stroke in all four boats became terrific as, with heads bent, hanging far over the sides, the paddlers drove their blades through the water, recovered and drove them again, almost faster than the eye could follow. ten yards from the finish the senecas, paddling in perfect form, seemed fairly to lift their boat from the water. it was magnificent, and as they shot over the line, winners by a scant quarter length, all four tribes joined in giving them the woodcraft yell. the algonquins were second, beating the delawares by a scant half length. the score was tied. the single event was next, and in this both walter and hal harrison were entered. it was an eighth of a mile straight away. this event was confined to the younger boys, and walter felt that he had an even chance for place, though tobey of the hurons was generally picked to win. harrison was a dark horse. no one knew much about his paddling save his chief, who had coached him in private, and was very chary of his opinion to anxious inquirers. "i'm going to beat you, walt," said hal, as they paddled down to the starting line. "not if i can help it," replied walter with a good-natured laugh, "but if i'm going to be beaten there is no one i should rather have win than you, hal. but the delawares need those points, and i'm going to get 'em if i can." it was hal's first race, his novice event, and he was plainly nervous at the start, so that he got away poorly. but he soon recovered and settled down to his work in a way that brought a smile of satisfaction to the lips of chief avery watching from the finish line. hal had not told his father that he was entered for any of the events. mr. harrison had been talking with dr. merriam when the race was called, and had paid no attention to the boys going down to the start. it was not until the race was half over that he focussed his glasses on the canoes. "bless me, that looks like my boy out there!" he exclaimed, wiping his glasses to be sure that he saw clearly. then to the delight of the spectators the man of millions showed that he was wholly human after all. he whooped and shouted like an overgrown boy. "come on, hal! come on, boy!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "he's winning! he's winning! come on, hal! hit her up! hit her up!" and all the time he was pounding the man in front of him, quite oblivious of the fact that it was dr. merriam himself. hal was hitting it up. after the first few minutes of dumb surprise the senecas had rallied to the support of their new champion, and as the boy heard his name over and over again at the end of the seneca yell he ground his teeth and redoubled his efforts. little by little he forged ahead. walter was putting up a game struggle, but he found that his grueling swim earlier in the afternoon was telling now, and in spite of all he could do open water was showing between his canoe and hal's. "i'll get second, anyway," he muttered, and then as before the old slogan, "for the honor of the tribe. for the honor of the tribe," began hammering in his brain. it was hal's race, with walter second, buxby third, and tobey, the expected winner, a poor fourth. wigwam no. was two points to the good. the suspense had become almost unbearable as the last event for the afternoon was called. this was a "pack and carry" race, a novelty to most of the spectators, and in some respects the most interesting of all. four canoes were placed side by side on the ground in front of headquarters. beside each was spread a shelter tent, blankets and cooking outfit. the four chiefs took their places, each beside one of the outfits. at the signal gun each began to pack his outfit. as soon as he had finished he picked up his canoe, inverted it over his head and carried it to the lake. returning for his pack he placed it in his canoe, paddled out around a buoy, back to shore, and carried canoe and pack to the starting point. woodhull won handily, but big bob seaforth, who got a good start and was counted on for second at least, broke a paddle and was put hopelessly out of it. this gave the senecas and hurons second and third respectively. the score was once more tied. it was incredible! never in the history of the camp had there been anything like it. the field sports over and the championship undecided! and now it hung on the outcome of a little woodcraft test that hitherto had been simply a pleasant part of the ceremony of lighting the last camp-fire--the test of the fire sticks. it was agreed that the winner should not only have the usual honor of lighting the fire, but that he should score five points for his tribe and wigwam, and that second and third should not count. evening mess was a hurried affair. there was too much excitement for eating. promptly at eight o'clock dr. merriam appeared with the other members of the camp force and a few guests who had remained, and the tribes gathered in a circle around the huge pile of fire-wood in front of headquarters. each chief selected five of his followers to represent his tribe. these squatted in four groups with their fire sticks before them on the ground. behind each group stood an umpire to announce the first bona fide flame. the silence was almost painful as dr. merriam raised his arm for the starting shot. there was a momentary stir as the boys hastily reached for their sticks, and then no sound save an occasional long breath and the whirr of the fire drills. twenty seconds, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three--"buxby's fire!" cried a voice sharply, and then a mighty yell arose from the delawares and algonquins as billy leaped forward and thrust his tiny blaze into the tinder of the dark pile before him. wigwam no. had won! chapter xx the home trail walter stood on the pier at upper lake looking down the long stretch of water. a mist gathered before his eyes and blurred his vision. for the moment he was alone. his father and mr. harrison were over by "woodcraft girl," which was made fast farther down the pier, and were talking earnestly with louis woodhull. how beautiful it was, and how hard to leave. what a glorious summer it had been! his thoughts ran back to the morning when he had stood in this same place with big jim and felt for the first time the mystery of the great wilderness. was it possible that that was only eight weeks before? what a lot had happened in that short time! what a tenderfoot he had been! how much he had thought he knew of woodcraft, and how little it had been compared with what he knew now. and yet even now he had learned little more than the elementary lessons. big jim had been right; "woodcraft never yet was larned out o' books." and still how much he owed to those same books. in the light of the knowledge obtained from them how much better he had been able to apply the lessons learned from his practical experiences. even the big guide had come to see this, and had grudgingly admitted that there might be some good in the despised books, after all. walter stretched his arms out toward the lake and the mountains. "how i hate to leave it all," he said, unconsciously speaking aloud. "same here," said hal harrison, who had come up behind him unobserved. "and a few weeks ago i would have given anything i possessed to get away. now i can't wait for next summer to come, so that i can get back here. you'll be back, of course?" "i don't know. i want to. seems as if i'd simply got to. it's all a matter of whether dad can afford to let me," replied walter frankly. just then there was a warning toot from the engine attached to the single coach which was to take them over to upper chain to connect with the new york express. woodhull came up to say good-bye. he, with some of the older boys, would remain in camp for the opening of the hunting season. "i shall look for you back next year, upton," he said extending his left hand for the scout grip. "the delawares need him," he added, as he shook hands with mr. upton. then turning to hal with his winning smile he said, "hal, if we didn't have so much regard for avery the delawares would certainly annex you too." at upper chain there was a half hour wait, and the boys started out for a final look at the sawmill village. suddenly walter caught sight of a familiar figure. "jim! oh, you jim!" he whooped in delight. at the sound the big guide turned and his face lighted with pleasure as he strode over to the boys. "i was afraid i was goin' t' miss yer, son," he drawled. "jest got back from th' county seat, whar i've been t' see th' last o' a friend o' yourn, leastwise fer some time, i reckon." "red pete?" exclaimed both boys together. the guide grinned. "you've sure hit th' right trail," he said. "pete's on his way to whar he won't hev t' lock th' doors t' keep folks from takin' a look at his shakedown. he'll be in a sort o' permanent camp 'fore sundown--ten years at hard labor. when thet picter o' yourn, son, was sprung on him he broke down an' owned up t' a lot more mischief than jest th' killin' o' th' king o' lonesome. th' warden got him thet day o' the fire on old scraggy. when th' warden an' deputy got t' the hanted cabin they found pete wasn't ter hum. so they made themselves comfortable an' waited. long 'bout four o'clock in th' afternoon pete walked right into their arms, an' didn't seem none pleased t' see 'em. "i hed a suspicion thet pete knew somethin' 'bout thet fire on scraggy, an' when they charged him with it he owned up thet he hed set it t' git even with dr. merriam fer puttin' the warden on his trail. i reckon, son, thet if pete had knowed what thet leetle picter box o' yourn was goin' t' do t' him he'd 'a' smashed it plumb t' pieces th' mornin' yer met up with him an' me over thar in th' deepo. well," he sniffed the sawdust-scented air, "seems t' me th' air in these old woods will smell some sweeter now thet he ain't a-taintin' it no more." when they returned to the railway station they found another familiar face awaiting them. it was pat malone. a broad grin overspread his freckled face as they approached. walter was delighted. he had seen nothing of pat for the last week, and it was with real regret that he had left woodcraft without an opportunity to say good-bye. pat came forward and rather sheepishly shook hands with hal. the latter blushed, and then manfully he apologized to the irish lad for his fault in the fish buying episode of the summer. the other's eyes twinkled. "sure, 'tis more than mesilf has larned how ter shpell honor, oi be thinkin'," he said. "yez can buy no more fish av pat malone, but if ye coom in nixt summer 'tis mesilf will show ye where ter catch thim." turning to walter he thrust into his hands a pair of snow-shoes. "will ye take these ter show noo yorrk th' latest shtoile in shoes?" he asked hurriedly. "oi made thim for ye mesilf so ye will remimber th' bye in the woods ye licked--but thot ye can't lick now," he added, the twinkle reappearing in his eyes. "an' say," he concluded as the heavy express drew in to the station, "oi be goin' ter shtart a scout patrol av th' upper chain byes thot'll make yez hustle fer honors when ye coom back nixt summer." the farewells were over. lolling back in the luxury of a pullman seat walter and hal were rushing down through the mountains, back to the busy world, a world of brick and stone and steel, of clang and roar, of dust and dirt and smoke, of never ending struggle, the world to which they had been accustomed, of which they had been a part all their lives. yet now it seemed a very dim and distant world, an unreal world. they sat in silence, gazing out at the darkening forest, each buried in his own thoughts, each vaguely conscious that he was not the same boy who had taken this same iron trail into the wilderness a few short weeks before; that there had been a change, a subtle metamorphosis for which the mere passage of so brief a space of time could not be accountable. hal was the first to come out of the revery. "i guess," he said slowly and thoughtfully, "that i've just begun to learn what life is. they really live it back there." in the seat in front of them the fathers of the two boys were in earnest conversation, and mr. harrison was voicing almost the same thought. "i tell you, upton, that is real, genuine life up there! merriam's idea is right. it's great! that isn't a camp up there--it's a 'man factory.' why, look at that boy of mine! i sent him up there to get him out of the way and keep him out of mischief. sent him up there a helpless infant in all but years. been petted and coddled and toadied to all his life. my fault, i admit it. and yet less my fault than the fault of the unnatural and artificial conditions that wealth produces. on the impulse of a moment i run up there to have a look at him, and what do i find? a man, sir! "i tell you i never in my life put through a big financial deal with one-half the pride that i watched that boy push his canoe over the line yesterday! and when they told me about that fire exploit of his i was happier than i'd be if i cornered the market to-day. i'm proud of him, sir, just as you're proud of your boy! you've got to strip a man down bare to know whether he can stand on his own feet or not. he's got to, then, or go under. and merriam is showing them how to do it. now i've been thinking of a plan for next summer for these two youngsters, and perhaps a couple more from the camp, and the expense, you understand, is to be wholly mine." he leaned forward and for half an hour the two men were absorbed in earnest discussion. finally mr. upton turned to the seat behind. "walter," said he, "how should you like to spend next summer at woodcraft?" "like it!" cried walter. "there's nothing in all the world i'd like so much!" mr. upton smiled. "unless," said he, "you like equally well the plan that mr. harrison has just proposed, which is a canoe cruise." "a canoe cruise!" "yes, for you and hal, and one of the older woodcraft boys, and one other, if you can get them to go with you. how should you like that for the last two or three weeks of your vacation?" "hurrah!" shouted hal, throwing himself at his father, and giving him a bear hug. "that's the bulliest plan you ever made! we'll get louis woodhull to go with us, won't we, walt?" "the very one i had in mind," said mr. harrison. the train rushed on through the gathering night. it roared over bridges and rumbled through tunnels. it shrieked at lone crossings and slowed to a jolting halt at busy stations. but unheeding, oblivious to it all two happy boys sat in the pullman section and excitedly discussed who should be invited and where they should go when the next summer should bring to them the promised opportunity to launch their canoes on strange waters. the stories in this series are: the boy scouts of woodcraft camp the boy scouts on swift river the boy scouts on lost trail the boy scouts in a trapper's camp thornton w. burgess thornton w. burgess was born in sandwich, massachusetts, january , . he graduated from the sandwich high school in , afterward taking a course in comer's commercial college, boston. after a few years in business life he entered the editorial field as one of the editors of the phelps publishing and orange judd companies and was for several years one of the editors of good housekeeping magazine, for which he wrote extensively. [illustration] for some years he has been a contributor to many of the leading magazines. over the name of w. b. thornton he won recognition as a writer on out-door life and nature topics. he is an ardent lover of nature and since boyhood has spent his spare time in the woods and fields. his vacations have been spent with rod, gun and camera, camping and canoe cruising. among his books are: the boy scouts of woodcraft camp the boy scouts on swift river the boy scouts on lost trail the boy scouts in a trapper's camp transcriber's note minor punctuation errors have been repaired. hyphenation has been made consistent. page has a reference to mt. sewell. based on the rest of the book, this should probably read mt. seward, but it is preserved as printed. the following amendments have been made: page --wonered amended to wondered--he wondered if it could be possible ... caption to the illustration facing page --'wigwag signalling' amended to 'wig-wag signaling' for consistency with the rest of the book. the frontispiece illustration has been moved to follow the title page. other illustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are not in the middle of a paragraph. the boy scout fire fighters irving crump copyright barse and company contents chapters i. the motorcycle fire brigade ii. the firemen's tournament iii. boy scouts to the rescue iv. when the circus came to town v. a scout is resourceful vi. helping to make the movies vii. ethan allen comes to life again viii. the prize contest ix. working to win x. the boy from arizona xi. the courage of a coward xii. the scout life guards' beach patrol xiii. the day of the big race xiv. when the unexpected happened xv. a narrow escape xvi. quarry troop's christmas chapter i the motorcycle fire brigade "by jiminy, that was some fire for an old hay barn, wasn't it, fellows?" exclaimed jiminy gordon, as he entered the meeting room at headquarters. his eyes were flashing excitement and he was thoroughly out of breath from running up the long otter creek hill. "i stayed until the last spark was out," he said, as he dropped into a chair beside bruce clifford, leader of the owl patrol of quarry troop no. . "some fire, is perfectly correct," said bruce bitterly, "though it needn't have been anything more than an ordinary blaze. i tell you the woodbridge fire department needs a little pep, fellows." this last was addressed to the four other occupants of the room, bud weir, romper ryan, babe wilson and nipper knapp. "right," said romper. "the way they went about it was a farce," said bud. "yes, they all had to have their red flannel shirts on," remarked babe, the fat boy, sarcastically. "say, did you see 'em scrapping over who should carry the fire trumpet?" laughed romper. "sure, and about six men were giving orders," put in jiminy, who had caught the spirit of the remarks. "and no one obeyed any of 'em," supplemented babe, sarcastic as usual. "but the finest exhibition of firemanship was when one of the nozzlemen let go of the only hose they got on the fire while he hunted through his pockets for a paper of tobacco or something else just as important," said bruce. "of course the other nozzleman couldn't hold onto the hose alone and it twisted out of his hands. the thing acted like a big black snake, fellows, and hit chief blaney a whack in the chest that knocked him sprawling. then it proceeded to wet down the whole fire department before some one captured it. it was a scream. didn't any of you see it?" "i reached there in time to see tom hogan try to stop it and get a ducking for his trouble," laughed nipper knapp. "oh, it is a shame," continued bruce; "i know it isn't exactly proper to criticise, but then if they'd had a little system about it old eli osborne's barn would still be standing. now it's a heap of cinders. i tell you any ordinary troop of boy scouts has more snap than the woodbridge fire department. i believe-- by jove, fellows. i've an idea! let's organize a fire department of our own. a motorcycle fire department. i was reading in a magazine only the other day how they started one over in england somewhere. how about it?" "bully--how's it done?" demanded bud weir, leader of the blue heron patrol. "corking idea; let's get busy," exclaimed jiminy gordon. "great! give us the details," shouted romper. bruce wrinkled his brow in deep thought for several moments, then his face lighted up with a smile. "look here, fellows," he said enthusiastically, "three of us have motorcycles we got for christmas, and romper here and ray martin of the flying eagles have the machines they built themselves. then there's 'old nanc,' the automobile we built last winter. she's good enough to carry hose and hatchets and a couple of fellows besides. we've the equipment. what do you say? i'm dead sure my dad will let us borrow some fire extinguishers from the mill, and he has any amount of hose and other things to fit up a first-class brigade. we'll get our equipment together and then drill like the dickens. how about it?" "and we'll keep it a secret. won't tell a soul until we get a chance to spring a surprise on the whole town, eh, fellows?" suggested bud. "let's spring it at the tournament and convention next month. the champlain valley firemen's association meets here this year, you know. perhaps we can get first prize in the tournament, added romper ryan. "whoo-o-o-pe! great! let's get busy," shouted nipper knapp. "right-o," said bruce. "but first of all let's tell our plan to assistant scoutmaster ford." to be thoroughly familiar with quarry troop no. you must know that it was composed of three patrols in woodbridge, vt., and that its members had created a reputation for themselves through their ability as mechanics and electricians. woodbridge has long been noted for its electrically operated marble quarries and its many machine shops and textile mills, and the boys of the town, as a result of their surroundings, were by nature of a mechanical turn. added to this, the woodbridge academy was one of the first institutions of the country to adopt a manual training course as part of its curriculum, and all the lads received an early drilling at the lathes and forges. bruce clifford, always the most self-reliant lad in town, first suggested that he and his fellows establish "a troop of engineers," and of course his proposal was received with enthusiasm by the academy boys. bruce took the plan to his father, samuel clifford, and to his father's friend, hamilton townsend, a well-known consulting engineer in woodbridge. mr. townsend was delighted with the idea, and quickly consented to become the scoutmaster, while mr. clifford, to foster the interest of the lads along mechanical lines, offered them the abandoned machine shop on the top of otter creek hill for their headquarters. this was a real find for bruce and his friends, for the old place had never been dismantled. mr. clifford was a builder of electrical stone cutting and polishing machines and for a long time he had maintained his business in the little two-story structure. but four years previous he had erected a fine new concrete building just across the way, and abandoned the machine shop, intending to tear down the building and sell the old equipment for junk. this made ideal headquarters for a troop that desired to specialize in engineering. on the first floor were the old hand-forges, bellows, lathes, work benches, planing machines, and various other appliances. they were all out of date, to be sure, and some slightly rusty, but still quite usable after they had been cleaned up. on the second floor of the building were two rooms, one of which was used for meetings, while the other was converted into a wire room for the loop telegraph line that the lads had built through the town. this loop was connected with an instrument in the bedrooms of every member of the troop and the boys could be routed out of bed at midnight, if need be, by some one calling on any of the keys. a wireless system had also been erected on the roof of the building by the wireless enthusiasts of the troop and the helix, spark-gap and various coils and keys were also set up in the wire room. headquarters immediately became popular with every member of the troop and always some one was to be found pottering about in the machine shop, building something that he was particularly interested in. two of the boys, during the long winter evenings, had made more or less serviceable motorcycles for themselves, and a half dozen of the young engineers had even essayed the construction of an automobile from old parts they were able to get for "a song" at various junk shops; indeed, some serviceable material was found in scrap heaps about town. how well they succeeded, a wheezing two-cylinder motor car attested. this turn-out was dubbed "old nanc" by the troop, and though it went far better down grade than it did on the level, the boys managed to get a great deal of fun out of it. and it was not a bad looking machine either when it finally received several generous coats of red paint and enamel. luckily, austin ford, the engineer in charge of the hydro-electric plant of the woodbridge quarry company, became interested in the "scout engineers," and through him the officials of the quarry company were persuaded to allow the lads to use as much electric current as they required without cost. the youngsters quickly built a transmission line to the electric station, which was located a few miles north of the town on a branch of otter creek. mr. ford's interest in the lads increased to admiration when he saw the business-like way in which they went about building the line, and he even offered them some practical engineering advice when they found themselves up against knotty problems. this led to a more intimate relation with the young cornell graduate, and in the end the boys suggested that he become the assistant scoutmaster. this office rather pleased him, for in reality austin ford was little more than a big boy in the matter of pleasure. he quickly became a master of scout lore and at every opportunity he was afield with the lads or else in the shop at headquarters working out new engineering "stunts" (as he characterized them) for the scouts to undertake. the boys never failed to talk over each new undertaking with him, as, for instance, the troop's latest scheme, the organization of a motorcycle fire department. indeed, on the very evening of the day eli osborn's barn was reduced to ashes, bruce, bud, romper and several others visited mr. ford and outlined their plans. of course the assistant scoutmaster approved of such a very laudable idea, but he did admonish the boys against criticising the present fire fighting force of wood bridge, stating that though the men had their peculiarities the lads should remember that they were volunteers, doing their work without receiving a cent of pay because they recognized their duty to others. as to the equipment of the brigade, he left that all up to the boys, telling them, however, that whenever they had any difficulty they would find him ready to help them. he also suggested that they visit the hydro-electric plant and take a few tools and some old sand buckets which they could paint over and use as bucket brigade equipment. chapter ii the firemen's tournament the two weeks following were mighty busy ones for quarry troop no. . first of all it was necessary for bruce and his companions to find out exactly what in the matter of equipment they had at their disposal. this could only be determined by a visit to mr. clifford's mill and several other places where they could borrow fire fighting apparatus and still not let the news of their secret organization leak out. mr. clifford, when he heard of the plan, was particularly delighted and he personally conducted the boys through the machine shop and mill, making numerous suggestions meanwhile. first of all he found that he could spare eleven small, two-and-one-half gallon chemical extinguishers and still leave enough equipment to comply with the fire underwriters' laws, which call for a certain number of extinguishers for each floor. these eleven were enough to provide two for each motorcycle in the brigade and one for the automobile. it seemed rather unfortunate to bruce that they could only get one for "old nanc," for he had had a mental picture of the red automobile with a shining extinguisher on either side of the driver's seat. indeed, he was so keen on this artistic arrangement that he pleaded with his father to spare an additional tank. "why, i'll tell you what you can have to balance up 'old nanc,'" said his father laughingly, when he heard bruce's reason for wanting another extinguisher, "here's a light oxygen-acetylene tank equipment with a blow torch i've been using around the mill. i'm going to get a new one of larger capacity, and if you polish this up it will look mighty business-like, i tell you. "these torches are being adopted by the city fire departments too. you see they are composed of two tanks, one filled with oxygen and the other with acetylene gas. these gases both flow through the same opening in the torch and unite before they strike the air. if you touch a match to the end of the torch, _presto_, you have a thin blue flame, so hot that it will cut through the hardest steel. the flame gives off a heat as high as , degrees fahrenheit; think of that! it literally burns its way through the toughest metal and does the job before you can say 'scat.' the city fire departments use them to burn the hinges off iron doors and window shutters in big warehouse fires. do you boys want it? it may come in handy, you know." "want it! you bet we do," shouted jiminy gordon eagerly. "just the stuff," recommended romper ryan, who had been inspecting the apparatus, "handy and compact. doesn't weigh more than a hundred pounds. two of us could handle it in fine shape. we certainly _would_ like to have it." "all right," acquiesced mr. clifford, "it's yours." the good-natured manufacturer also gave the boys a set of old fire pails that needed fresh coats of paint, and several lengths of old but serviceable fire hose, not to mention a number of rusty fire hatchets, crowbars and pike poles. "how about ladders?" said mr. clifford as the boys were about to depart. "gee, we never thought of 'em," said bruce, surprised at such an omission. then as he considered the capacity of "old nanc," he continued: "but if we had them we wouldn't know how to carry them; we--you see, we can't afford to overload the auto or she will never be able to get started for a fire." "ho, ho, that's right. she'd be a regular tortoise," said mr. clifford. "but why don't you make a couple of scaling ladders? i'll have the top hooks forged for you if you'll build the ladders. they'll be light and serviceable and you can work up a mighty spectacular drill with them." "great, we'll do it," said bruce. then he added, "perhaps we _will_ have a real fire department after all." "old nanc" spent the busiest day of her career gathering up the loads of extinguishers, hose and other equipment before she was laid up for alteration, and the scouts for many days thereafter found that their spare time was well taken up with their work at headquarters. from the hour that the woodbridge academy closed until ten o'clock in the evening they toiled like beavers. bruce, always a capable manager, divided the patrols into working squads and assigned them to the various tasks to be accomplished. those who were handy with carpentering tools he set to work making a new fire patrol body for the automobile. those who excelled at the forges he assigned to the task of making brackets and metal clamps with which to fasten the extinguishers onto the motorcycles. some were appointed ladder makers, others were painters, and still others were buffers and polishers, who shined up the tarnished sides of the tanks and took the rust off the axes and pike heads. and when they all became active the interior of headquarters was a veritable beehive for busyness. the boys did not devote all their time to building work, however, for they realized that to win honors at the firemen's tournament, in which they meant to compete, they would have to be well drilled in every branch of fire fighting. consequently every evening, just before dusk, the entire troop assembled in the field back of headquarters. scaling ladder drills, first aid work, rescue work, bucket brigade drills, and hose coupling contests were indulged in until the lads worked with the precision and accuracy of trained fire fighters. for the sake of unity bruce had been appointed fire chief, having charge of all three patrols. the entire squad was under his command and in a very few days he had systematized their work to the point where there was scarcely a lost motion or a false move. indeed, the scouts drilled with such vigor and enthusiasm that inside of an hour they would be completely tired out. then, while they were resting, bruce would put them through a sharp oral drill on the rudiments of firemanship as set forth in the september number of _boy's life_ until, to quote jiminy gordon, "they could say it backwards, or upside down, and do it blindfolded." gradually after weeks of toil the fleet of fire fighting motorcycles assumed a business-like appearance. and as for "old nanc" she, redolent with the odors of fresh red paint, loomed above them all exactly like a mother hen keeping a watchful eye on her brood of chicks. each motorcycle was equipped with a fire extinguisher clamped on either side, just back of the seat. directly in the rear of the seat was a small red tool box in which hose-coupling wrenches and two sets of harness were kept. this harness, devised by mr. ford, was made of canvas in the form of a sling to hold the extinguishers in position on a scout's back. in that way a boy could enter a burning building and carry an extinguisher with him, still having both hands free to operate the extinguisher hose. on top of the tool box was strapped a short coil of hose with a small nozzle ready to be brought into action when coupled to the nearest street hydrant. "old nanc," besides carrying an extinguisher and the oxygen-acetylene blow torch tank, also contained the remaining hose, an equipment of axes, pike poles and scaling ladders, and provided accommodations for three scouts and the driver besides. until a few days before the tournament the scouts were working on their equipment. indeed, the very last coat of varnish was put onto "old nanc" the saturday afternoon preceding the tournament day, which fell on wednesday. all that remained to be done was to deck the machine with flags and bunting and she would be ready for the parade. in truth, that very morning bruce had gone on a motorcycle trip to st. cloud city, twelve miles south of woodbridge, to buy the necessary decorations. "by jove, she looks like a real fire fighter, doesn't she?" said romper ryan, backing off, paint brush still in hand, to survey his own handiwork on the sides of "old nanc." "for downright good looks i think our equipment has it on anything woodbridge ever experienced," said jiminy gordon enthusiastically. "well, we'll sure create some sensation," said bud. "this is going to be a complete surprise to everybody. has bruce heard from chief blaney yet? he sent him our entry for the tournament events last week, you know. i wonder--here he comes now! i heard his siren. that was a mighty quick trip to st. cloud." bud and several others rushed to the door. coming up the hill at top speed was bruce, his motorcycle fairly flying. when he caught sight of the group in front of the machine shop he began to wave a blue paper above his head. "hi, fellows, here's our reply from chief blaney," he shouted as he jumped from his machine. "i just got it at the house. haven't opened it yet. come on, gather 'round and hear what he has to say." with eager fingers he tore off the corner of the big envelope and ripped open the top. and as he unfolded the letter every scout pressed closer to get a glimpse of its contents. bruce began to read aloud: mr. bruce clifford, chief of the scout engineers' fire department. dear sir: your entry blank and fee for the tournament events reached me. i am returning your fee herewith for, unfortunately, your company cannot take part in the tournament. in the first place your organization is only a juvenile company, and in the second place it is not an accredited member of the woodbridge fire department. the fact that you have not a charter from the town authorities will also prevent your little department from taking an active part in fighting fires in this village, for the champlain valley volunteer firemen's association has passed a ruling preventing any individual not wearing a badge of a recognized fire department from entering fire lines or participating in fire fighting work. these rules are rigidly enforced by my department. very truly yours, (signed) w.t. blaney, chief woodbridge f.d. "well, what do you think of that!" exclaimed romper disgustedly. "and after all our working and planning," said jiminy bitterly. "oh, we're only juveniles," said bud sarcastically, turning away to hide his feelings. and as for bruce, he could hardly believe his eyes. he re-read the letter and when he finished he slowly tore it into little scraps and tossed them to the ground. "well, fellows," he said with a grim smile, "i fancy 'old nanc' won't need the flags and bunting i ordered to-day. and i guess our little fire department sort of busts up before it gets started. if old blaney is such a stickler for regulations they'll never let us fight any fires in this town. tough luck, isn't it?" tournament day had been declared a holiday in woodbridge. stores and factories were closed and the village decorated from stable to town hall with colored streamers, flags and bunting. since early morning fire companies had been arriving in town headed by bands and drum corps until the place was crowded with uniformed figures from every section of vermont. but in spite of all this gaiety bruce clifford and the boy scout engineers were dispirited. indeed, for the past week they had been very unhappy over the turn of affairs. they tried their hardest to brace up and be good sports, but their disappointment was greater than they had expected. on tournament day they wandered about with a cheerless air, watching the various companies file into the side streets to await the formation of the parade that would be conducted up webster avenue to the tournament grounds. they were not so downcast, however, as to ignore the fact that here was an excellent opportunity to view a number of fire fighting machines of all varieties. indeed, they inspected the equipment of every out-of-town company they ran across, and in the course of the morning had become partly familiar with everything, from an oldfashioned gooseneck hand engine to the latest type of hand-drawn chemical engine, the pride of the company from middlebury. this last appliance was an excellent piece of work and bruce and his friends realized that even, with her new paint and shining brass, "old nanc" could not compare in general appearance with this costly equipment. promptly at half-past ten the automobile in which was seated the mayor, fire chief blaney and several other dignitaries, swung into webster avenue. this was followed by the woodbridge band and the parade to the tournament grounds was under way. the boy scout engineers reviewed the procession from the curb, and when it had passed they hurried by way of a short cut across the fields to the tournament grounds, reaching there just as the mayor's car turned in at the big gate. a makeshift two-story frame building had been constructed in the very center of the enclosure, and the village authorities had erected a dozen temporary hydrants in a half circle about the front of the building. the plan was to conduct the contests on the level stretch of turf before the grandstand, and as a finale set fire to the wooden structure and have a real demonstration of fire fighting. the procession of visiting companies made a circle of the grounds after entering the gate while the mayor reviewed them from his automobile. then after the various engines and hose carts had been parked at the far end of the field the mayor prepared formally to open the ceremonies with a speech of welcome. but he had hardly uttered two sentences when bruce, for some unknown reason turned and looked down webster avenue towards the town. in the distance he saw a great cloud of black smoke mounting skyward above the roofs. he grasped bud weir's arm and shouted: "look! quick! afire!" and as if to verify his words the far-off clang of the village fire bell sounded. instantly the tournament grounds were in a turmoil. every one raised a cry of fire! in a twinkle the grandstand was empty, but before the crowd could reach webster avenue the companies had begun to leave the enclosure. with a rattle and a clang one engine after another swung into the broad avenue. then with the old hand equipment of the woodbridge vamps in the van the whole aggregation hurled itself down the street toward the village. chapter iii boy scouts to the rescue bruce clifford and the other members of quarry troop no. , waited only to determine the location of the column of smoke that now extended clear across the sky, then, selecting the short cut across the field by which they had come, they hurried pellmell toward the scene of trouble. "it's down in the factories!" panted romper as he ran. "yes, i think it's mayor worthington's woolen mills," shouted bud. "by jove, i guess you're right," yelled bruce as they turned into willow street and saw smoke pouring from the windows of the big brick building at the far end of the street. it was the worst fire that woodbridge had experienced in years. by the time the firemen reached the scene the whole west end of the building was enveloped in flames and a section of the slate roof had already caved in. from every window long tongues of red flames darted out like hideous serpents' tongues. great sparks shot skyward as sections of the west wall crumbled and fell into the red hot caldron that had once been the building's interior, and the heat was so intense that windows in the factory building across the street cracked and crumbled. it was a fortunate thing for woodbridge that there was a score of visiting fire companies in town, or else the whole south section of the village would have been wiped out. chief blaney, almost beside himself with anxiety, implored the visiting chiefs for their assistance. and assist him they did. every company got its equipment into action and lines of hose were strung in some cases nearly half a mile. there were at least a dozen hand engines and two steamers on the banks of otter creek supplying lines to the fire, not to mention the hundreds of feet of hose that were coupled to the village hydrant system in every direction. but all that the willing vamps could do seemed to no avail. the fire demon was rampant. he roared full cry through the long brick building, consuming everything in his path. section after section of roof sagged, then fell with a crash and a roar into the flames, sending aloft a shower of crackling sparks. "thank heavens, this was a holiday. there's no one in the building," bruce heard chief blaney cry as he hurried past in company with the foreman of a visiting company. but the rubber-coated fire fighter had hardly uttered the words when a shout went up from the crowd at the east end of the building, where the firm's office was located. men with blanched faces and trembling hands were pointing towards the big iron barred window that marked the counting room. "o-o-h! it's old uriah watkins!" shrieked blaney. bruce looked and turned sick at the sight. there, his wrinkled old face pressing against the bars, was the aged bookkeeper of the woolen mills. one hand was extended between the iron grating in frantic appeal. the other clutched the precious ledgers that the old man had rashly rushed into the building to rescue. his ashen face was set with a horrible expression, and his eyes stood out with terror. bruce saw his lips move, but could not hear his feeble voice above the roar of the flames. for a moment the scout stood panic stricken. then suddenly his lips pressed together and his face took on a determined look. in a flash he turned to bud and gave a few brief orders. then, elbowing their way through the jam and press about them, the youngsters disappeared and left bruce there alone. in the meantime a score of vamps had been summoned by chief blaney to rescue the aged bookkeeper. they attacked the heavy bars on the window with sledges and axes, but with no success. they tried to pry away the bricks with crowbars, but this, too, failed, and it was quite apparent to all that if uriah watkins was to be saved it could be accomplished only by the slow and laborious task of sawing through the bars. could this be done? had they the time to accomplish the task? already a nearby section of the roof had caved in! how long would it be before the flames reached the office and burned the old man alive? at this point the figure of a boy in scout uniform broke through the fire lines and rushed up to the side of chief blaney. standing at attention, bruce saluted in regulation boy scout fashion and asked briefly: "chief, can the boy scout engineers take a hand in this? i'll have the bars cut in two minutes." "you will what--! why--!" "yes, yes, we can do it; i've sent for our fire department--here come the scouts now!" the shriek of sirens was heard above the din about the factory building and the great crowd beheld seven motorcycles tearing down the hill at top speed. and just behind them bowled "old nanc" at her best. "have i your permission to take a hand?" demanded bruce. "yes! yes! for goodness' sake do anything you can to free him!" cried the chief. the line of motorcycles stopped and hose lines were quickly strung. but the red automobile rumbled on, to come to a halt within ten yards of the building. already two scouts were unlimbering the oxyhydrogen tanks and blow pipe equipment. bruce rushed forward to aid them, while chief blaney looked on quite puzzled for the moment. working fast, but with the utmost coolness, bruce donned a pair of asbestos gloves that came with the equipment and attached the blow pipe. romper turned on the gases, while the young leader produced a match and ignited the torch. instantly a tiny blue flame shot out that hissed and sputtered in a threatening manner. as he advanced toward the window bruce saw that the old bookkeeper had disappeared. he knew from this that there was no time to be lost, for the man had probably fainted and would soon be overcome with smoke. hastily he shot the blue flame at the base of the first bar. there was a hiss and a shower of sparks as the flame met the cold metal. bruce pressed the blow pipe closer, while he watched with anxious eye the progress of the flame. the bar grew red, then gold, then white. the heat was terrific. the bar began to melt, slowly first, then faster, until the blue flame ate completely through. another was attacked, and still another, until the scout had cut a hole in the iron grating large enough for a man to pass through. shouting to romper to turn off the gas, he dropped the blow pipe, and plunging a handkerchief in a fire pail that stood near by, he tied the cloth over his nose and mouth. then he hoisted himself through the window and disappeared. inside the smoke was thick and black, but bruce could see flames dart through at the far end of the room, and he knew that in a few moments more the place would be seething. he groped vainly about for the old bookkeeper. where was he? he had dropped under the window a moment ago. had he tried to crawl to the door? what had happened? the smoke was so thick that even the moist handkerchief was of no avail. bruce began to strangle. then suddenly he remembered the instructions in his handbook. the air was purest near the floor! he dropped to his hands and knees, and with his face to the boards he began to crawl about, blindly groping for the body of the old bookkeeper. his fingers clutched something. he drew the object toward him and peered at it through the smoke. it was uriah watkins doubled in a ball, though unconscious and almost suffocated, the faithful old man still clasped his precious ledgers. bruce knew that unless the man reached the open air immediately he would perish. also he knew that if they were not both clear of the building in a few minutes they would be food for the flames which were even then thrusting spiteful tongues under the door at the other end of the room. here again the instructions of the handbook stood the scout in good stead. he knew that it would be next to suicide to stand up and try to carry the prostrated form to the window. the smoke was so thick even down there near the floor that he was gasping and choking. he twisted his hand into the old man's collar and began to crawl, face to the floor, back toward the gray space that marked the window through the smoke, hauling uriah after him. foot by foot he dragged his burden. in spite of the handkerchief the smoke was getting into his lungs. his chest pained him dreadfully. oh, what wouldn't he give for a single breath of pure, fresh air! the eight or ten feet to the side wall seemed like eight or ten miles. would he never reach there! finally his hand struck the wall and he stood erect. the draught caused by the open window was drawing thick smoke out of the building into the air. bruce knew he could not stand in that current of gases long. pulling uriah watkins forward, he raised the limp form and forced it through the window ahead of him. willing hands seized the old bookkeeper and lifted him to safety. then, dizzy and sick, bruce clutched at the ledge and scrambled up. but a dreadful nausea seized him as he knelt on the window sill. his head whirled. he lost his balance. he knew he was falling backward into the burning building, but he was powerless to save himself. he gave a stifled cry of terror, and in answer the loud voice of chief blaney boomed in his ear and strong arms encircled his waist. then everything grew black. the boy scout engineers never forgot the shout that went up when chief blaney carried the unconscious form of bruce to safety. they were mighty proud of their leader. but they were prouder still when, a week later, bruce was summoned into the presence of mayor worthington and chief blaney and presented with a parchment charter which officially informed him that the fire company of quarry troop had been officially made a member of the woodbridge fire department, to be known thereafter as chemical company no. , with brewster w. clifford as the chief. chapter iv when the circus came to town twelve scouts, nearly half of quarry troop no. , now popularly known as the boy scout engineers, were gathered in the meeting room at headquarters. in fact, they had been literally driven there when the woodbridge academy let out at halt past two on friday afternoon. you see, it was raining so hard that there was no other place to go. but, then, the old machine shop was the best place in the world for the boys, rain or shine, so _that_ didn't make much difference. what really did matter was the monotony of it all. for five days now the region round about woodbridge had been literally deluged with a spring downpour. otter creek had swollen to twice its normal size, springs were gushing from most unheard-of places and rivulets were racing down hillsides that usually were, to quote nipper knapp, "dry as a smoked herring." "by george, i do wish this rain would let up. what we want is a chance to get out of doors a bit. i haven't stretched my legs in a week," said romper ryan glumly, as he gazed out of the big front window. "well," said fat babe wilson with his usual sarcasm, "if it don't dry up soon the whole blamed world is liable to shrink." then, as an after thought, he added, "that might bring st. cloud city so near woodbridge that we could at least see the circus parade." "aw-w, what'er you bringing up that circus subject for again," said jiminy gordon, who didn't like to be reminded of the pleasure he had decided to forego. "yes," chorused two others who were equally reluctant about facing the sacrifice they had voted themselves; "forget about that blooming circus." "say, you fellows needn't hop on me just because i want to have a little fun with you," protested babe. "i'm as good a sport as any of you. don't you suppose i agreed when you voted not to go to the circus. i know it would be foolish to spend most of the thirty dollars in the troop's treasury for a day's outing. you needn't talk, jiminy gordon; you were the first one to suggest the idea last week when you saw the man posting the bills." "yes, i know i was," said jiminy, somewhat embarrassed, "but i said it without thinking. when we got to discussing it last night i saw how ridiculous it was. by jiminy, i'd rather see the money go toward a new camping outfit, or the lumber for the troop's power boat. i wouldn't spend that thirty dollars to see three circuses, i wouldn't." judging from the conversation, the circus question referred to had died a hard death. to tell the truth, its demise had really been quite painful so far as most of the boys were concerned, for all of them had rather liked the idea of being able to enjoy "the world's mightiest, most magnificent combination of clever animals and human skill and daring," etc., which was booked to show in st. cloud city a few days hence. for a week the temptation to spend the troop's thirty dollars had haunted the lads day and night, until finally with a great effort they had laid the ghost by a unanimous vote that the money must not be spent on the profitless amusement. it really was a sacrifice, for every scout had set his heart on a hike to st. cloud and a day crowded full of gaiety and glitter, not to mention a stomach crowded fuller with peanuts, popcorn and lemonade. "fellows, i am just as much disappointed as the rest," said bruce clifford, leader of the owl patrol, "but i think we decided wisely last night. we can all do without going to the circus, even if it is the biggest one that has visited this neck of the woods in years. the possibility of a new set of tents or the lumber for a motorboat appeals to me more than blowing the money in on a show; that is, it does when i stop and think soberly about it." "right-o!" said romper. "that's what i call common sense," asserted nipper knapp. "just the way we all should look at it," insisted bud weir, leader of the blue heron patrol. "and if we were to--sh! listen, fellows! some one's calling!" in an instant everybody was silent. bruce inclined his head toward the wire room at the other end of the building where the headquarters' telegraph key and the instruments connected with the wireless aerials on the roof were located. out of the doorway seemed to tumble a confusion of dots and dashes quite unintelligible to any one not familiar with the morse international code. ....-.-,....-.-,..-.-..-.-..-..--. "headquarters, ford calling," read bruce. "fellows, mr. ford is trying to raise us. wonder what he wants!" he hurried into the wire room with the rest at his heels, and taking the low operator's chair opened the key and answered the call. then he closed it again and waited. the boys were all attention, for most of them were second-class scouts and could "read" morse well. "mayor--worthington--just--'phoned--me," clicked the instrument. "wants--to--see--scouts--at--town--hall--at--four--i--would--like--to-- have--you--go. -- ford--asst--s'ct--m's't'r-- : --p--m." "all--right--shall--we--wear--uniforms--bruce--l'd'r--owl--p't'r'l-- : --p--m," bruce flashed back over the wire. "yes--careful--don't--get--too--wet--g'd--by--ford-- : --p--m," came the answer. "cracky! something interesting! wonder what's up!" said bruce excitedly, as he began calling on the loop telegraph wire that was connected to an instrument in every scout's home. the three patrols of quarry troop stood at attention in the broad corridor of the woodbridge town hall, awaiting the coming of mayor worthington. their campaign hats were water-soaked, and rain dripped from the edge of their slickers and gathered in little pools about their feet. they must have been uncomfortable. but if they were, they gave no signs of it. all their attention was riveted on the doors that led the way into the mayor's private office. presently these doors swung open, and the tall, broad-shouldered figure of the town's chief executive strode forth, followed by his secretary and timothy cockran, the commissioner of streets and highways. every back stiffened and every hand went up in salute as these men advanced and took their position in front of bruce, the recognized spokesman of the troop. the mayor acknowledged the salute in quite the proper manner, as did the others; then, clearing his throat, he spoke. "scouts, i have asked you here because you can be of service to woodbridge. the town needs you. are you willing to do a good turn for the welfare of us all?" "we're ready for anything, sir. we try to do a good turn daily, rain or shine," said bruce, once more saluting. and his answer was echoed by the score or more of brown-clad youths ranged in line beside him. "thank you, scouts," said mr. worthington, crisply. "now to business. the rains of the last few days have raised havoc in this end of champlain valley. so much water has fallen that the high roads leading north and south on either side of the valley have been made dangerous by wash outs and landslides. in several places the banks have slipped down from above, but the most dangerous sections are those where the roads have been washed away almost entirely. vehicles traveling at night are very apt to have serious upsets and the life and limb of the occupants are endangered, in spite of the fact that we have marked the washouts with red lanterns hung on short posts. "what i would like to have you boys do is to organize a road patrol to keep a careful watch over these red lamps and see that they are all lighted between the hours of nightfall and midnight at least. after twelve o'clock there is hardly enough traffic to make the patrolling worth while. the first patrol can light the lamps at a given hour and thereafter at certain intervals scout patrols can visit each lamp and see that it is in good working order. how would you like the job, boys?" "fine!" shouted some. "just the kind of work we like," cried others. "all right," said the mayor, shortly. "scouts, you are hereby appointed guardians of the high ways by order of the mayor and the commissioner of streets and highways. each morning at half past eight one of your number will be expected to make a report at the town hall of the night's work." "the commissioner here has a map of these thoroughfares showing each washout and just where each lamp is located. you can organize your patrols this afternoon and start to-night. i think the storm will be somewhat abated by that time. it is letting up a little now. good-day and good luck." though the rain had decreased considerably the scouts lost little time in getting from the town hall to scout headquarters, where the details of organizing the road patrols were worked out. it required the rest of the afternoon to do this, and the dinner hour arrived almost before the boys were aware of the time. "say, fellows, this is going to be fine," said bud weir. then, glancing out of the window, he exclaimed: "by jove, the storm's nearly over; the clouds are breaking out there beyond the mountains. this will be a fine night for--cracky, fellows, i almost forgot; the circus comes through town to-night. it will come down the valley from collinsville and take the north road to st. cloud." "by george, you're right," exclaimed bruce. "say, fellows, that makes our work doubly important. these heavy circus vans may get into trouble if all the lamps aren't in good order. you fellows be sure and report for duty, will you?" "don't worry; there'll be enough of us to patrol to-night. i guess we're all going to stay up and see the circus go through town, if it isn't raining, aren't we, fellows?" asked bud. and from the chorus of affirmatives it was evident that few of the troop would be abed when the "world's mightiest, most magnificent combination of clever animals and human skill and daring" rumbled through town. by seven o'clock the rain had stopped entirely and, when the lamp-lighting patrols started out in the gloaming, the storm clouds were fast disappearing in the southwest, their edges splashed with the gold and vermilion fire of the setting sun. indeed, by the time the second patrol had reported back at headquarters and the third group of night watchers had started out, a big yellow moon had appeared and the stars were twinkling merrily up above. after the last patrol had been gone an hour the scouts who, when their duties were finished, had gathered in headquarters, moved on to the top of otter creek hill. they had decided that this would be the best place to watch the coming of the circus cavalcade. the valley presented a queer appearance at that hour. here and there were red lights standing out against the darkness, while from various points along the highway came the glow of tiny battery lamps as the scouts signaled to each other. "they look like a lot of fireflies," said bruce, after he had watched the series of dots and dashes that the boys were flashing back and forth. "yes," said bud, "just like mighty big fli--. hi, fellows, here comes the circus! see 'em--that string of lights coming down willow street--hear that rumble of the wagons?" "sure enough!" exclaimed bruce, who was as enthusiastic as the rest. up the long hill, in view of the group of wide-eyed and thoroughly interested boys, came the phantom-like caravan. a string of swinging lanterns fastened to the center pole of each wagon marked its course. first in line were the grumbling and rumbling red and blue animal vans, followed by two rattling canvas wagons. then a troop of little black and white ponies appeared hitched in fours to light gilt and red vehicles that held all sorts of odds and ends. in the rear of the ponies followed the camels; great, long-legged creatures that grunted at every stride as if they were indignant at being kept up so late. gaudy band wagons, the cook's outfit and a heterogeneous assortment of vehicles came next, all of them moving slowly up the hill while the drivers dozed in their seats. "say, isn't it great?" cried romper ryan as he took in every little detail. "you bet it is!" returned babe wilson, breathlessly. "i wonder where the elephants are. oh, here they come!" the clank of chains could be heard above the grumble of the wagons, and a moment later five huge elephants appeared out of the darkness. they lumbered along sleepily, their massive heads and long trunks swaying from side to side at every stride. the forelegs of each beast were chained together with stout links of iron, but there was little need of fetters, for the animals were apparently so docile that the idea of running away seemed farthest from their minds. the leader of the drove was, of course, the largest and apparently the meekest, for as he scuffled by the scouts the boys saw that he walked with his tiny eyes closed exactly as if he were asleep. a string of a dozen red vans followed the elephants, and at the very rear of the line was the big steam calliope. it was muffled and silent now, out its driver was snoring lustily as if to keep its reputation. "gee, but that was worth staying up to see," said ray martin, the first to find his tongue, after the cavalcade had passed on down the valley. "you bet it was," said bruce. "jove, i'm almost sorry we decided--say! look! something has happened! see the lights down there by the old quarry hole? the circus has stopped! look, there are some signals! it's the patrol! can you read them?" "'we--need--help. elephant--in--in--' what the dickens is he talking about? i couldn't get that last, could you, bruce?" asked bud weir. "yes; he said that an elephant is in the quarry hole. by george, one of those big beasts has fallen down into tollen's old quarry. there was a washout down there. come on, fellows!" and the scouts started at top speed down the north valley road toward the scene of trouble. chapter v a scout is resourceful bedlam reigned at the quarry hole. a score of frantic circus men were shouting orders at each other, lanterns were bobbing about among the wagons, and every one was beside himself with excitement. one little gray-haired man seemed almost distraught over the situation. he was storming up and down the road, alternately roaring commands and delivering tirades against everything in general. it was quite evident that he was the manager of the outfit. "now we're in a fine mess," he thundered as he strode to the edge of the quarry and peered down into the darkness. "it's so dogon dark down there we can't even see th' brute. how'll we ever get him out? that's what i want to know. hang the man who's responsible for this mess! gol-ding t'--_wush_--_phew_." his soliloquy on the brink of the quarry hole ended abruptly when with a snort the elephant shot a trunk full of water out of the darkness, bowling the little man over and drenching every thing and everybody. "kill t' beast! kill him, gol--ding his hide!" screamed the dripping manager as he picked himself up out of the mud. but he was such a comical figure that every one shouted with laughter. to bruce and the scouts the whole situation was extremely humorous. evidently the lead elephant had wandered into the washout and lost his footing. the next thing he knew he had slid with a big splash into the quarry hole. and then, having a fondness for water and seeing no way to climb up the twenty-foot wall of rocks, he had decided to stay there and have a thoroughly good time. but bruce realized that they could not indulge their humor long, for as guardians of the road it was their duty to give all the assistance they could. hastily the patrol leader made an inspection of the pit by the light of his pocket flash. he remembered a derrick on one side of the cut. and he hastened to look that over, for already he was beginning to form plans for getting the beast out of trouble. he noted with satisfaction that the derrick had been only partly dismantled and that the rusty steel cable was coiled up in a pile beside the heavy upright. then he returned to the roadside and approached the agitated little manager. "we are the guardians of the highways for woodbridge, sir," he said, "and we would--" "you are the what!" roared the manager. "the guardians of the highways and--" "well, why in tarnation didn't yuh guard 'em then? i--i--i--" bruce interrupted the sputtering manager by pointing to the red light. "there's our light. we did our part. it must have been your fault. but no matter; we'll help you get the animal out of the quarry if you'll let us. "how'll yuh do it? haven't got a thing in my outfit t' pull him out with." "oh, we'll do it all right," said bruce. then briefly he outlined his plan to the skeptical circus manager. and when he had finished talking the old man looked at him in amazement. "can you do all that?" he demanded. "sure we can," said bruce. "we're the boy scout engineers. just loan me some of your canvas men who know how to rig a block and tackle and we'll have the elephant on his way to st. cloud by daylight at the latest." "all right, i'll go you," said the manager. bruce gathered about him all the scouts not doing patrol duty. "fellows," he said, "we can get the elephant out of the hole all right, but it will mean some hard work. i want you, romper, to go back to woodbridge and tell the parents of every fellow here that we have serious work to do. tell them not to worry if we don't get back until late. then i want the owl patrol to go to headquarters and get all the no. wire we have on hand, load it on a couple of wheelbarrows and start stringing a line from our switchboard in the machine shop down to the quarry hole here. "string it along the fences and where you have to cross druery road put it overhead from tree to tree. remember, no monkeying with the telegraph or telephone poles! we can be arrested for anything like that. romper, you can stop in and ask mr. ford if he won't go up to headquarters and connect up the new line. i don't think we should fuss with the switchboard at night. "now, i want the blue herons to go to headquarters and disconnect the big five-horsepower motor on the lathe. load it aboard 'old nanc' and bring it down here as fast as you can. on your way turn in at druery road and run up to the baldwin quarries. ask dave porter, the night foreman there, if you can borrow the largest and heaviest blasting mat he has. we'll need that. now hurry, fellows." the scouts started off immediately, and bruce turned to the circus manager. "now, if you'll bring your canvas men along, i'll give them a good, hard job. it's one we boys couldn't handle. are you ready?" "sure!" said the manager. then to his men, "come on, boys!" bruce led the group around the quarry hole to the north side and pointed out the derrick and the coil of rusted steel cable. "here's what we'll lift the elephant out with, providing the boom will hold and your men can string the heavy cable through the pulleys at night." "huh! our end of it is no trick for a bunch of canvasbacks," said the foreman of the gang. "get busy, boys, quick now! some of you bring some gasoline torches so's we kin see! move now, you fellers!" in five minutes the circus men were working like beavers, weaving the cable through the pulleys, placing the heavy boom and getting the derrick fitted up for service. the system and speed with which the trained tent riggers went about their task was nothing short of marvelous to bruce. he watched them almost fascinated until the little manager came up and claimed his attention. "look here you feller, i ain't sure your scheme is goin' t' work out," said he, skeptically. "how'er we goin' t' get some light into t' hole t' see the brute? these gasoline torches can't be lowered down there. the elephant would go wild and probably drowned hisself, an' if--" "i'm figuring on using the headlights of old nanc (that's the troop's automobile we built last winter) for searchlights. they are powerful enough and can be turned anywhere we need 'em. there, you can get a look at them now. that's old nanc on her way here." up the road sounded a siren, and the little manager turned to see two headlights bowling toward him. it was old nanc loaded down with the heavy motor, blasting mat and tools. "fine, bud; you made a fast trip. how are the wire stringers getting along?" shouted bruce to the scout who was driving the machine. "we passed them about a hundred and fifty yards from here. they are coming along in fine shape." "good," said bruce. "now bring old nanc right up to the edge of the quarry hole. we want to shine her headlights down into there and see what it looks like below. some of the circus men can unload the motor, and nipper, you can show them how to set it up on the derrick platform. and while all this is going on, babe, you take charge of making a sling. take this blasting mat and get a couple of circus men to help you head a section of cable to each of the four corners. fasten the ends together around that rusty derrick hook attached to the end of the cable. hurry it, will you, fellows?" with the help of some of the "canvas-backs," the automobile was worked off of the road and into the field on the north side of the quarry hole near the derrick. then it was pushed cautiously toward the edge of the pit and its wheels blocked by some big pieces of marble so that it would not roll into the hole. the rays of the headlights dispelled the darkness below immediately and there was his highness the elephant, almost submerged, looking up at them with his ridiculously small eyes. "huh! consarn it! i _knew_ you kids was playin' me fer a fool," roared the circus manager when he looked into the cut. "how'er you're goin' to hitch anything around _that_ animal, i'd like to know?" "we don't intend to hitch anything around him. we're going to make a sling of that big blasting mat and raise him out that way." "yes!" roared the furious manager, "but how in tarnation are you going to get it _under_ his belly? think some one is going down there and dive between his legs with your blooming old sling, do yuh? that animal is nearly all under water, remember." to tell the truth, that question _had_ been bothering bruce from the first. he had hoped that the water was only two or three feet deep. but there was at least ten feet of drainage in the quarry hole! he stood beside old nanc and bit his lips in his embarrassment. luck seemed against him. was everything going to fall through at the last moment? he did not answer the irate manager, but began to turn one of the headlights slowly so its rays illuminated the west wall of the hole. then suddenly the light paused, and a smile crept over the boy's face. the white beams had revealed to him a shelf of marble two feet above the water-line and at least ten feet across, skirting the lower edge of the west wall. he saw defeat turned into victory! "will that elephant mind his trainer?" bruce demanded of the manager. "huh! will he? well, you'd better guess he will!" stormed the man. "then everything is simple. you lower the trainer in a bo'son's chair over the west wall there and down to that ledge of marble. he can coax the animal out of the water and up on the rocks, and after that we can send a couple more men down with the sling and they can do the rest. see the plan?" "well, i'll be hanged! you win, young feller," said the manager, smiling for the first time since the accident. at this point the lads of the owl patrol reached the quarry hole trundling several empty wheelbarrows. jiminy gordon was carrying the remains of the last roll of wire. "here we are, bruce, ready to connect up, but you'd better believe building a line at night is no easy job, by jiminy." "guess it isn't," said bruce in a businesslike tone. "is mr. ford at headquarters?" "yes, he's waiting to turn on the current whenever he gets your signal." "great!" said bruce. "i was a little worried about that. there isn't any real danger, but you might have made a ground or a short circuit and upset everything." then turning to nipper knapp, he shouted, "how about the motor, nipper?" "set and ready for connections," shouted the scout. "right-o! then we'll have mr. elephant out of the hole in a jiffy," shouted bruce, as he seized the two ends of the wires and began to bend them about the terminals of the motor. he worked with speed and accuracy and the little circus manager could not help commenting on his skill as an electrician. "hum! i guess you lads know what you're doin', all right," he said. "well, we hope our efforts are successful," said bruce. then he added, "it's time you sent your trainer down there on the ledge to get the elephant out of the water." "don't worry, son; we ain't losin' no time on our end of this game. he's down there now an'--." shouts of laughter from the crowd assembled around the edge of the hole interrupted the little manager. he and bruce both looked up involuntarily. then they, too, burst into uproarious laughter at the spectacle. the trainer had gone down onto the ledge with an armful of bread loaves to tempt the elephant out of the water. there he stood holding out a loaf invitingly while the elephant, still half submerged, held his great mouth open and his trunk aloft expecting the man to toss the bread toward him. but this was not the trainer's intention. "come on, toby; come on. yuh gotta come out t' git this meal," he called. the elephant moved a little closer and waved his trunk aloft impatiently as if beckoning the trainer to toss the loaf. "oh, no, yuh don't. come on out, toby; come on--hi! go! ding yuh, leggo!-- hi! _help!_ help!" toby had refused to be tempted any longer. the waving trunk descended and wrapped quickly about the trainer's leg. then slowly the animal began to pull the man toward the water. the trainer was startled half to death. he dropped the bread and began to struggle mightily, for the black water looked cold to him even though the elephant did seem to enjoy it. he clutched at the smooth marble floor and tried to brace himself with his unincumbered leg, shouting lustily all the time. "hi! help me! help! kill th' beast! i don' wanna git a duckin'! i--i--got a cold in--my--" _splash--blub--blub--blub--_ toby's black little eyes seemed to twinkle with mischief as he gave a final tug and plunged the trainer into the water. then while the man floundered about, the animal deliberately put his two front feet onto the edge of the shelf and reached out toward the pile of loaves. one by one he picked them up and deftly slipped them into his mouth, disregarding the shouts of the trainer. but once in the water the man decided that he would stay in and drive the elephant out. "hi, jerry," he shouted. "throw me down the pike. i'll git the blasted critter out o' here if it takes me all night!" jerry tossed the short pike pole down onto the shelf and the trainer climbed out to get it. when the elephant saw the pole he immediately began to wade across the quarry hole. "oh, no, yuh don't, toby. i'll git yuh, now," shouted the man, as he plunged back into the water and began to swim toward the beast. "git outa here, yuh brute," he thundered, when he came alongside the huge bulk. and he accentuated his command by jabbing the pike deep into the beast's hide. as meekly as a lamb the elephant turned around, after allowing the trainer to climb onto the top of his head, he waded toward the shelf and climbed out of the water without the slightest sign of rebellion. "there, consarn his pesky hide, he's out now," said the little manager to bruce, who was still laughing over the comical antics of the big beast. "good," said the lad. then, turning, he called to babe, "hi! how about the blasting mat sling--is it finished?" "yes, it's ready," shouted the fat scout. "well, then, we're all in good shape," said the patrol leader, inspecting the outfit. "now for business. ho, jiminy, flash mr. ford the signal." instantly gordon bounded out of the circle of light and climbed the nearest stone pile. then with his battery he began to flash the morse code toward headquarters, where mr. ford was waiting. the circus manager took the whole performance in with wide eyes. "say, hang it all, you scouts know a thing or two, don't yuh?" "yes, we know enough to be fairly helpful," said bruce modestly. then, as he saw mr. ford flash back his o.k., he said, "now we'll let 'er go." he seized the reverse lever on the motor and threw it over. the derrick drums squeaked a moment before settling down to a business-like grumble. then the rusted steel cable, with the improvised blasting mat sling dangling at its end, was played out swiftly until the mass of woven rope settled down on the ledge beside the circus men, who were hard at work putting chains about the elephant's feet and trunk so that he could not squirm about in the sling. the adjusting of the heavy affair was no easy task, but the men worked with a will and a few moments later bruce caught their signal that all was ready. for a moment he paused with his hand on the starting switch. he was almost afraid to throw it into position. "oh, if the boom will only hold," he whispered to himself, for to have his plans fail now would have been more than he could endure. he moved the switch. there was a slight arc as contact was made. then slowly the motor began to turn. the boom stiffened and creaked ominously as the cable tightened. he pushed the switch over another notch. the big animal was lifted off its feet! would the boom hold? bruce and every member of the troop stood tense and silent, as they saw the big body of the elephant dangling over the pit. he was lifted a foot, two feet, _five_ feet! he was snorting and squirming in protest, and bruce's heart almost stopped when he saw the boom give under his weight. "oh, if he would only hold still!" muttered the boy. "he'll smash the timber, sure." the patrol leader pushed the switch over still another notch and the motor began to hum and sputter. the beast was raised ten feet, fifteen feet, eighteen, twenty. now he was on the level with the top of the quarry! slowly the boom began to work in, creaking and snapping under the strain. splinters were raising here and there on the timber. bruce knew it was only a matter of seconds now before the great stick would be shattered. the elephant was but a few feet from safety. canvas men were reaching out over the quarry's edge to seize the side of the sling. they gripped it! they pulled and tugged, and with a prodigious squeak the boom swung over. then with a crash it buckled, dropping the elephant on the very brink of the hole! fortunately, the timber did not part entirely or some one would have been killed. the lacing of steel derrick cable held it in place, and everything was safe. it took the scouts and the circus men a brief instant to realize this, and when they did a cheer went up that must have waked the villagers in woodbridge. the little circus manager was delighted. he rushed up and grasped bruce's hand. "fine work, young feller! fine work, i say! now you scouts all git home and tumble into bed. my men will clean things up here in fine shape. it's half-past three. sleep 'til ten o'clock and by that time a couple of my best vans will be at that buildin' yuh call headquarters waitin' t' take yuh t' st. cloud. yer goin' t' be my guests at t' circus er i'll know the reason why." "gee, that's mighty good," said bruce, excitedly. "how about it, fellows? we don't mind taking _that_ sort of pay for a good turn, do we?" "you bet we don't," shouted the scouts, enthusiastically. and a few moments later they fell in line and started off toward woodbridge. chapter vi helping to make the movies "whe-e-e-o-o-o! whe-e-e-o-o-o! whe-e-e-o-o-o!" screamed the siren as bruce clifford's motorcycle came to a halt in front of the weir cottage on willow street. then: "hi, bud--bud-de-de! hello-o-o, bud! come on, wake up!" shouted the leader of the owl patrol, cupping his hands about his mouth and directing his voice toward an upstairs window. a moment later the window in question opened and bud in his undershirt, with a towel in one hand and a cake of soap in the other, appeared. "what're you making such a row for? i'm awake," he shouted rather irritably, for bud really never became thoroughly cheerful until after he had had his breakfast. "say, bud, the highway bridge over muddy brook--the one just below the railroad tracks on lake road; has gone down under a big motor truck full of scenery and things belonging to the historical motion picture company, the outfit that has been taking revolutionary war pictures over near ticonderoga. the machine's half under water and the men need help. there's a chance for the scouts to get busy. are you with us?" "you bet i am. i'll be to headquarters in three winks," said the leader of the blue heron patrol, considerably better natured. "fine! hurry now! i'm off to headquarters to call the rest of the fellows together," said bruce, as he started his motorcycle and shot up the long incline that led to the machine-shop headquarters of quarry troop no. , of woodbridge, popularly known as the boy scout engineers. the leader of the owls had left home a little after daylight that morning with fishing pole and creel strapped to his machine, for he intended trying the brown trout in concord valley. but when he reached the little highway bridge where the lake road crossed a shallow brook near the rutland railroad tracks, a situation presented itself that banished all thought of trout fishing. the ends of the bridge timbers had rotted away from dampness and under the weight of a big motor truck had parted from their stone pier. their collapse had projected the heavy vehicle front first into the stream, so that its hood was jammed against the abutment, while its hind wheels still remained on the sloping bridge floor. the chauffeur and his two assistants stood surveying the scene in a most dejected attitude. of course bruce stopped at the stream and looked over the situation, asking innumerable questions. but the men were not in a pleasant frame of mind and gave him only disagreeable answers, which nettled the scout to the point of exclaiming: "huh, if you weren't so grouchy about it, i'd like to try help you get out of the mess you are in. maybe we could help a great deal. i'm a member of the boy scout engineers, and it is just our fun to lend a hand in a fix like this." the chauffeur looked at the lad in amazement for a moment. then he spoke in milder tones. "excuse me, son. i didn't mean t' be so nasty. if you fellows will give us a hand, we'd be mighty much obliged. i know what the scouts are. i've met 'em before." "thank you for the compliment," said bruce. "we'll be here with block and tackle in less than an hour. in the meantime, get your truck unloaded," and, turning about, he raced back to town, stopping only to awaken bud weir before reaching headquarters. entering the home of the troop, he hurried to the wire-room on the second floor and began calling the scouts from breakfast. the telegraph line leading from headquarters was a big loop that extended through the town and connected with an instrument in the home of every second class scout, and all the boys could be called to headquarters in a jiffy. when his summons had been answered by most of the boys, bruce hurried downstairs and proceeded to get "old nanc," the troop's homemade automobile, ready for service. into it he loaded all the manila rope he could lay hands on, as well as blocks and pulleys, chains, crowbars, axes, sledges and everything else that might come in handy. by the time this work was well under way the scouts began to arrive and lend a hand. they came on motor cycle and on foot until there were twenty-odd gathered at headquarters. and when they were all assembled, bruce outlined briefly the situation at the lake road bridge and gave them his idea of how the task should be handled. of course, they were all eager to undertake the work, and in a few minutes they were on their way to the scene of trouble. the chauffeur and his men had done as bruce suggested, and when the lads arrived they found two great stacks of canvas scenery by the roadside. they gave this only a moment's inspection, however, for they had work before them. with as much system as a trained army corps they began to unload the coils of rope and the pulleys. then, under bruce's direction, several wove the cordage into a block and tackle arrangement. this done, a group headed by romper ryan removed shoes and stockings and began to ford the shallow stream, carrying the block and tackle with them. in no time they had one of the pulleys lashed to a substantial maple tree by the roadside. the other pulley was fastened to the back end of the automobile truck, which was still on the sloping floor of the bridge. when this was completed the single strand of rope on which they were to haul was passed back across the stream and attached to the rear axle of "old nanc." then came the test of the boys' engineering skill. at the request of bruce the scouts all seized the rope to assist "old nanc" in hauling the big machine backward up the grade. bud, the official driver of the troop's automobile, climbed to his place and everything was ready. "now, all together! pull!" shouted bruce, and at the command every scout arched his shoulders and hauled his hardest, while "old nanc's" engine began to cough and grumble furiously. the tackle grew taut. the pulleys squeaked and groaned and the bridge timbers protested in like manner as the big truck began to move. up it crawled, inch by inch. now the hood was out of water! a moment later the rear wheels were onto the road! slowly but surely it was lifted out of the brook until, finally, with a mighty tug, the lads backed it clear off the bridge and safely onto the highway. "fine!" shouted the chauffeur. "i knew you scouts were the bully boys. but, say, fellows, how's the machine going to get across the stream! we are bound for woodbridge, you know, and we're on the wrong side of the busted bridge now." "oh, maybe we can work that out some way," said bruce. "i guess we'll try to make a pair of shears out of a couple of fence rails, then hitch the block and tackle to the bridge floor and hoist it back to its proper level again. the rest of the fellows will get all of the discarded railroad ties they can find along the tracks over yonder and build a square crib under the bridge. they can lay the ties on top of each other in log cabin fashion and i guess that will hold up the bridge under your machine. it will make the crossing safe until the town authorities can put new bridge timber in place, too." "sounds mighty sensible," said the chauffeur. "will it take long?" "i don't think so. it's only half past ten now. here comes the ten thirty montreal special," said bruce, as the canadian flyer shot around a bend in the railroad tracks, her whistle screaming her approach to the woodbridge station. "come on, then, let's get busy right away. perhaps we can have the machine into woodbridge by noon," said the chauffeur. then, to his assistants, he called. "hi, you fellows, git over there to the railroad tracks and pick up some o' those old ties. go along with the scouts. they know old ones from new ones." all the lads, except two or three of the older boys, waded the brook and started out after crib building material. the others remained to help bruce rig up the shears and put the block and tackle into place. fortunately, section gangs had been working on the railroad recently, putting in new ties, and there were any number of discarded timbers along the embankment. these the lads appropriated, for they knew that the railroad men no longer wanted them and that sooner or later a bonfire would be made of them. the heavy timbers were piled up on the bank of the brook as fast as the scouts could find them, and by the time bruce and his helpers had hitched the block and tackle to the sagging bridge the crib builders were ready to begin work. raising the bridge floor was accomplished quickly, for the wooden structure was nowhere near as heavy as the auto truck. indeed, "old nanc" managed to haul it up all alone. this accomplished, the scouts waded into the water again, and, working in pairs, carried the railroad ties to a point just under the broken structure. the first two ties were put up and down stream and weighted with stones to keep them from floating away. two more were then placed across the stream on top of the first set, exactly like logs in a cabin. then, like bees, the boys traveled back and forth to the bank, carrying the heavy ties, until finally the crib was constructed snugly under the bridge flooring with two heavy cross timbers resting safely on top. when the tackle was finally removed and the bridge platform settled into place and gave every indication of being safely propped up by the crib, the scouts gave a ringing cheer, for their efforts had been successful. and, as if in answer to the cheer, the loud honking of a motor horn was heard and a big red motor car containing one man and the driver came tearing down the road. "here comes our manager, mr. dickle!" exclaimed the chauffeur when he saw the machine. mr. dickle proved to be a very businesslike and bustling individual. he bounded from the car before it stopped, demanding at the same time to know all the particulars of what had happened. it seems that he had seen the stalled motor truck from the window of the ten thirty train and had hired the first automobile he could find at the woodbridge station and rushed to the scene of trouble. briefly bruce and the chauffeur told him all that had happened and all that had been done. "rebuilt the bridge, eh? looks as if it would hold a steam engine now. that's bully," exclaimed mr. dickle. "now, if you fellows can tell me of a building equipped with electricity that i can rent for a studio for a couple of days, you will have done me another great favor. we are going to make some historical films of ethan allen and the green mountain boys. say, by the way, you fellows look intelligent. how would you like to be my supes? i'll pay you fifty cents a day. how about it?" "what's a supe?" asked bruce and bud together. "why, a supernumerary. i want a number of people to take part in the production, as green mountain boys or british soldiers or the mob, or roles like that, where good actors are not needed. i have a big battle scene as a climax. i'll need you in that surely." "in the movies, eh? whoope-e-e-e! fine!" exclaimed several, and the manager knew immediately that he would not have to look further for additional members for his cast. "and, say, about a studio; perhaps you could use the meeting room on the top floor of our headquarters building. we have all the electricity you want, only there isn't much daylight for taking pictures. there are only three windows, and--" "tut, tut, never mind the daylight. we don't need it in modern photography. we'll go up and look at the place," said the manager. then to the chauffeur he shouted: "here, jim, fasten a rope to the truck and i'll have this machine of mine tow you up to the scouts' headquarters." chapter vii ethan allen comes to life again for the next days the troop's headquarters on otter hill was the strangest place imaginable. passers by were surprised to find groups of real indians in war paint, colonial soldiers, british troopers and green mountain boys in buckskin garments walking up and down in front of the building or sitting in the sun waiting for their turn to "go on" in the studio room upstairs. these were the regular actors of the historical motion picture company, who had come to woodbridge by train to take part in the ethan allen film which mr. dickle was making. to be sure, all this fascinated the scouts. it was a decided pleasure to be allowed to circulate among such famous people. ethan allen was a big, broad-shouldered actor whose name was known from coast to coast. so was the individual who took the part of captain rember baker, captain warner and captain warrington. anne story was a girl whose face the boys had seen on a dozen different billboards, and there were any number of other well-known individuals in the troupe. and there were real live indians, too, who afforded the boys no end of interest. altogether, the advent of the motion picture company was a liberal education for the lads. but for knowledge of the technical nature, which the boys liked best, the interior of headquarters presented a world of opportunity. when the company's electricians and stage carpenters had finished with their work in the big meeting room bruce and his chums scarcely recognized it as the same place. two banks of a dozen electric lights as big as street arc lamps, and just as powerful, had been strung across the ceiling. these, by means of reflectors, were made to flood the far end of the room, "the stage," with a steady white light. behind the light was the camera man, grinding away steadily, taking sixteen pictures a second, while before the light were the actors playing their parts, now in a log cabin, now in a colonial mansion and again in a courtroom at albany, according to the way the scene shifters arranged the portable canvas scenery. between the camera man and the actors, to the left of the stage, sat mr. dickle in his shirt sleeves, clutching a bundle of manuscript in one hand and a megaphone in the other. through this effective mouthpiece he directed each of the actors. the members of the cast did their work entirely in pantomime, except when mr. dickle bawled a few lines at them, which they repeated so that the camera could register the action of their lips. it was all so perfectly wonderful to the scouts that they stood for hours watching the making of the film; that is, they stood still and watched while the actors and photographers were at work, but the moment business was suspended, while scenes were changed, they began to ask questions of every one in sight. they learned that the big lights were a new type of tungsten lamp filled with nitrogen gas which made them burn three times as bright as other lamps. they discovered that the original photographs were only three-quarters of an inch long and they were magnified from thirty to fifty thousand times when they were projected onto a movie screen by the machine in the theater. they found out also that raw film cost four cents a foot, that movie actors were paid as high as $ , a year, that there were nearly four hundred american firms making movies, that most of the films of the world were made in this country, that american "movies" were being shown in china, australia, india and all sorts of far-off corners of the world, and that in one american city alone the "movie" theaters took in more than $ , a day in admission fees. all this and a great deal more did the inquisitive youngsters gather, until they became veritable motion picture encyclopedias. of course, chief among the men whom they questioned was mr. dickle. in fact, every time the manager finished directing a scene, bruce and several other scouts pounced upon him and began plying him with questions concerning the film industry, all of which he answered in great detail, for he appreciated the fact that they were boys who wanted to learn and understand. it was during one of these periods of catechising that he finally explained the big film he was making at the time. "this photoplay," he said, "is to be a feature production; five reels of , feet each. i'm going to give all the details of the troubles ethan allen and the green mountain boys had with the authorities of new york state over the new hampshire grants. of course, you boys know the story. it's history." "you bet we do," said bruce; "find a vermont boy who hasn't read about the green mountain boys." "well, i'm glad you are so well informed. it will help a little when you take your parts tomorrow afternoon. i've finished the studio work on the film now, and all that remains are some exteriors in the vicinity of the lake. the film will wind up with a big battle between allen and his green mountain boys against the sheriff of albany, assisted by some indians and red coats." "i want you fellows to be the original green mountain scouts. your buckskins are all downstairs in the trunks. they came by express this morning. i'd expect you all to report here tomorrow at two thirty. get into the duds and come up to the lake. you'll find us all ready for you up there with an automobile full of flintlock rifles and things. the stage will all be set for the big battle around the mouth of the real ethan allen cave. how does that suit you?" it was a thrilling idea. "how does it suit? wow; were there ever fellows as lucky as we are? just think of being in a real movie film; i tell you--" "jiminy crickets, we'll have the time of our life, mr. dickle. why, we'll do it for nothing, just for the fun of the thing," exclaimed gordon generously. "oh, no, you won't; you'll get fifty cents each, and, besides, i'm paying you ten dollars a day for the use of this building. forty dollars is due you so far. that should help the troop's treasury a little, eh, boys?" "you bet it will," said bruce. "only we don't like--" "tut, tut; that'll do. i owe you money, and i'm going to pay it. if you don't take it i'll give it to your assistant scout master, mr. ford. i met him yesterday," said mr. dickle. then, to the actors, he called: "next scene, gentlemen! ring the bell, benny!" and bruce and the scouts realized that it was time for them to leave. the following day woodbridge witnessed the strangest scene in its history. it was that of a score of green mountain scouts, in buckskins and coon caps, traveling up the dusty road toward the lake. some were astride motor cycles, a half-dozen were crowded into "old nanc" and the rest were walking. an hour after leaving headquarters they reached the lake shore. ethan allen's cave was up a very steep grade from the water and the boys could see as they rounded the bend in the road dozens of red coats and indians waiting for them. bruce and the lads on the motorcycles put on high speed and took the grade in whirlwind fashion but "old nanc" was not equal to the hill, so she was parked in a lot by the lakeside and the rest of the troop went up to the cave on foot. immediately upon their arrival activities began. mr. dickle formed them in line and marched them up beside the big automobile truck that stood in the middle of the road. here each lad was given a flintlock rifle and sent over to the mouth of the cave, where ethan allen and a half-dozen green mountain boys were waiting, seated about a camp fire. "now, boys," said the manager, when all had been served with guns and had taken their places, "those weapons of yours are only dummies. i don't want you lads fooling with powder even in a sham battle. i won't be responsible for your eyes. my regular actors will do all the firing necessary, and they will make smoke enough to cover the film. all i want you fellows to do is aim and pull the trigger. are you ready now, gentlemen? camera!" mr. dickle stood with his feet apart, megaphone in hand, in the middle of the road. the camera man had set up his tripod on the rear end of the motor truck, which was held on the very brink of the grade by its brakes. at the word "camera" he began to turn the crank of his machine rapidly, and almost before they knew it the boy scout engineers were being photographed as part of a real feature film. action followed swiftly. while the lads were sitting about the fire an indian came out of the woods. it was neshobee, the friendly red man of judge thompson's story. he advanced to ethan allen, his hand extended aloft as a sign of friendship. then he began to talk, pointing into the bushes and up toward the leaves of the trees. instantly the green mountain boys were alert! "the red coats and the sheriff!" snapped allen, and every man was crouching, gun in hand, waiting for the attack. a red coat appeared in the bushes! up went a dozen muskets, and the next instant there was a thundering roar! the red coat disappeared! but others came! they bobbed up everywhere! behind bushes and trees! from rocks and logs they sprang, advancing and firing in apparently deadly earnestness! the roar of the musketry was deafening! bruce and his chums were thrilled with enthusiasm, and they snapped their guns at every enemy in sight! on came the red coats and the indians with the sheriff of new york leading them! they advanced into the open, firing deliberately at the little group of defenders about the cave! but their fire was answered with interest, and soldiers and indians were stumbling and falling in all directions! and above all the din could be heard the voice of mr. dickle, the stage manager, roaring directions through his megaphone. "great scene! fine! register excitement! fall down, murphy! tumble over, there, lisk; you're dead--tumble, i say. don't be afraid of your uniform. i'll pay for that. fall!--fall!--fall! now, green mountain boys, up and at 'em! charge! charge! beat it, you red coats--you're licked. run! git! beat it, i say! after 'em, scouts, after 'em! fine! great scene! all right; that'll do. quit firing." the roar of the flintlocks ceased and bruce and the rest of the scouts stopped, thoroughly out of breath with excitement. the red coats and indians stopped also, and, turning about, rejoined their erstwhile enemies. the "dead" and "wounded" stood up, too, and began to walk about and chat with the rest, all of which gave the scouts the impression that a "movie" battle was the only really pleasant kind of battle, after all. "well, you scouts certainly filled the bill as green mountain boys," said mr. dickle when the boys reached the road where he was standing. "that will make a great scene. now, just as soon as bob gets his stuff stowed away in the truck, we'll start for town." bruce noticed that the camera man was having difficulty in getting his outfit in the truck unassisted, so he ran on ahead of the others to help him. "here, bruce," said the movie operator, "you get up in the wagon and i will hand the things to you and you can stow them under the seat." the camera man handed up the box-like machine, which bruce started packing under the seat. just as the operator started back up the hill to get his tripod, in some unaccountable manner the brakes of the heavy truck loosened and the big vehicle started to roll slowly down the hill. so steep was the grade that the truck gained momentum at a terrific rate. bob, the camera man, noticing what had happened, turned and ran swiftly down the hill. but it had gained such headway that he couldn't overtake it. "hi, there!" shrieked mr. dickle. "stop that trunk! stopit! my film! it's all in the camera, and the truck's running away! stop it, some one! save the film!" bruce's first impulse was to jump from the truck and leave it to its fate, but when he heard the manager's frantic appeal to save the precious film he climbed quickly over the back of the high seat. in another instant he grasped the steering wheel and jammed his foot down upon the brake lever. then bang--! the brake band snapped and the truck lurched forward again! bruce had applied the brake too suddenly, and the next moment he found himself in a runaway motor truck that could not be stopped until it reached level ground. the patrol leader felt like he was turning cold. before him stretched a long grade, and at the end a sharp turn! if he did not make that turn the motor truck would crash against a rock or tree and kill him, or at best it would plunge into the lake and then the film would be lost! could he make the turn? on rushed the massive truck. it had developed express train speed now and it rocked from side to side like a ship in a gale as it tore down the rough country road! bruce clutched the big steering wheel with deathlike grip and tried his mightiest to keep the cumbersome vehicle straight! he realized that a loose stone or a deep rut meant death to him and destruction to the motor car! his teeth were clenched and his face was white! the wind had whisked away his coonskin cap. "oh, if i can only make that turn! i must! i've _got_ to!" he told himself, as he saw the distance to the foot of the hill being eaten up by the flying motor car. nearer and nearer came the turn. it was a hundred yards away. now seventy, fifty, forty! would the truck stay on all four wheels or would it go plunging on madly, end over end, into the lake? could he make it? the road bent slightly now. brace followed the curve. now came the turn. bruce tugged at the wheel. the big truck swerved. it was skidding! it was two wheels and ploughing up the dust in great clouds! it was almost around! it was around! the road ahead of him was straight and clear! bruce breathed a great sigh of relief. and so did fifty individuals who had been watching the terrible race from the top of the hill. they cheered loud and long when the big truck shot safely around the bend and headed up the level road toward woodbridge. then all of them started down the grade pell mell, nor did they stop until they reached the place where the truck had finally stalled. then every one tried to shake the boy's hand. "by jove, but for your nerve, bruce, my boy, we'd have been minus film and motor truck. for pure grit, i think you scouts take the prize. i wish i could think of some way to repay you," cried mr. dickle, pumping bruce around somewhat roughly. "why--er--you see--we don't want any pay for what we do, but if it can be arranged, i--i--well, we sure would like to see that 'movie.' can't you send one to the woodbridge theater?" said bruce. "huh, send one to the woodbridge theater! why, i'll bring the first release of it to woodbridge myself and show it in your headquarters. how'll that suit you fellows?" and the enthusiastic replies of the scouts convinced the "movie" manager that he had hit the right idea. chapter viii the prize contest "well, fellows, there's this much about it, if we are going to build a real sure enough motorboat this year we've got to get a hustle on us and earn some money. with the rent we received from the historical motion picture company and the money we secured from the circus ticket wagon we have just $ . . we need $ . to buy the motor alone, even with the reduction that mr. clifford can get for us. and added to that is the expense of extra lumber and fittings, which will be at least thirty dollars more. now where do we stand, i'd like to know?" thus did bud weir unburden his mind to the other boys of the quarry troop, sometimes called, because of their mechanical skill, the boy scout engineers. all spring the scouts had been planning to build a motorboat to be used on long lake. they had had their summer camp on the shores of this lake for the past two years, and they intended to have a camp there as usual this year, but they had decided to make it a construction camp and spend most of their time building a thirty-foot power boat, which would be the largest vessel on the lake. the idea was to increase the troop's fund in the treasury as much as possible during the winter and spring and use the money to purchase a three horsepower gasoline motor, which they calculated would be large enough to drive the boat faster than any craft thereabout. but somehow the months had hurried past and the fund had not increased at a proportionate pace. indeed if it had not been for a windfall of forty odd dollars from the historical motion picture company, the treasury would have been in a very bad way. the scouts really could not understand it at all. they had worked hard, or at least they thought they had, and they had contributed every cent they had made toward the engine fund, but somehow the balance in the woodbridge bank looked mighty small to the scouts. "what the dickens is the matter with us anyway, are we lazy?" queried nipper knapp, breaking the long silence that followed bud's remark. "by jiminy, it looks that way to me," said jiminy gordon emphatically. "it's procrastination that--" "whoops! hi! what was that word? ho, ho, say it again, bruce," shouted romper ryan hilariously. "he's worked for months on that _boys' life dictionary contest_," said ray martin, "that's what's the matter with bruce. what does it mean? maybe it's something to eat!" "aw, say, quit your joshin' me," said bruce, "that's a real word. it means--ah--er--well--" "sure it does, we knew it all the time, didn't we, romper?" said nipper knapp. "that's exactly what it means," said bud quite soberly. "well, it means that we've been putting off work. we haven't come down to brass tacks. and now we're up against it and our motorboat proposition falls through," snapped bruce. "well, if that's what it means then you told the truth," said bud, resuming his indignant attitude. "we fellows haven't been on the job. i haven't made a cent in three weeks and neither has any one of the rest of you. now be honest, have you?" "no, we haven't," said dug maston. "i guess we are actually growing lazy," said romper solemnly. then babe wilson, the sarcastic fat scout, added: "no, we haven't been lazy, we've just been waiting for opportunity to knock at our door--" (_rap--rap--rap, rap--rap--rap--rap._) babe looked startled and swallowed hard. then, his sense of humor bobbing to the surface again, he grinned. "that's mr. opportunity," he said. "no, it wasn't," said romper, rushing to the window, "it was a blasted old bill poster tacking a sign on headquarters-- hi! git out o' there! this isn't an old barn!" he shouted to the bill poster. but that individual never heard him and kept tacking away until the bill was up. then he went on down the road whistling merrily. "hang it, headquarters will look like a billboard soon. i'm going down to pull his blooming old sign off our wall," said romper, as he disappeared through the doorway and stamped down the stairs. but a few moments later he seemed to have changed his mind, for he was heard to shout: "hi, fellows, come on down. it's worth reading anyway." and what the scouts read when they crowded about him was: $ in prizes for brown tail moth exterminators. the town of woodbridge is offering $ in prizes to the individuals who can advance and demonstrate a practical method of exterminating the brown tail moths that are infesting the trees in the township. for particulars apply to mayor's office, town hall. three prizes offered: $ $ $ . "say, was that opportunity, after all?" asked babe in wide-eyed amazement when he read the poster. and every boy looked at every other boy and wondered. if there are any who do not believe that boys can become genuinely interested in study, they should have visited the quarry troop headquarters a few days after the discovery of the work of the bill poster. for at least three consecutive afternoons a dozen lads spent their time in the big meeting room on the second floor poring over dry looking pamphlets which bore the stamp of the bureau of entomology of the united states department of agriculture. they were all perusing this literature with the one purpose--to learn as much as they could about the habits of the brown tail moths, for they hoped in their study to discover some new and original way to exterminate the pest and thereby win one of the three generous prizes offered by the town authorities. but though they pursued the subject relentlessly none of them seemed able to generate an idea that smacked of originality. "aw, say, fellows, this will never do," said babe wilson. "we can't compete in this contest. we don't know anything about chemistry or things like that. why, we don't even know a brown tail moth when we see one." he disconsolately tossed away his pamphlet and shoved his hands into his pockets. "pshaw, don't give up so soon," said bud weir. "this reading isn't very gay but all the same we are learning some things we should know. and even if we are not familiar with chemistry, we may be able to figure out a way of getting rid of them by means of some mechanical appliance." "i think this is mighty interesting," said bruce, looking up from his leaflet. "i know now what's ailing those apple trees down back of our barn. the brown tail moths are in them. listen to this: 'the principal injury caused by these moths is due to the feeding habits of the larva. they attack apple, pear, plum, oak, elm and willow trees. if the infestation is bad the caterpillars are often numerous enough to devour the leaves as fast as the trees are able to develop them. as the webs are made on the terminals the growth of the tree is frequently checked.' "those apple trees of ours haven't had a full grown leaf on them this spring and there are webs in the tops of them, too. that's the work of brown tails all right." "the most interesting thing to me about these little codgers is the way they got here," said romper ryan. "they came from europe about , so this book says. came over on some young trees imported here. there couldn't have been more than a couple of cocoons, but look how they have spread since that time. they were first seen in somerville, massachusetts, but now they are all over the new england states. they are only just getting into vermont, though." "this pamphlet says that the female moth flies a great distance," said jiminy gordon, growing enthusiastic about the subject, "and that the female gipsy moth, which is another kind of pest, can't fly at all. by jiminy, i thought all moths could fly, didn't you? it also says that the female brown tail moth is attracted by strong lights and can be found fluttering around arc lamps almost any warm--" "does it? where? where does it say they like strong light?" exclaimed nipper knapp. "why, what the dickens struck you? it says so right here. just listen: 'these moths are attracted to strong light such as electric arc lights, as they fly at night it is often possible to secure many specimens around arc lamps in cities and towns during the latter part of june and the first half of july. the--'" "whoop! that solves it! i got it, fellows! it's as easy as rolling off a log. we win the $ prize sure!" exclaimed nipper knapp excitedly. then while the boys were looking at him in utter amazement he continued. "listen, fellows! i was running mother's electric vacuum cleaner this morning before i started to school. i saw how easily the motor-driven fan sucked in everything in sight. i held the nozzle near a fly on the window pane and _zipp--p-p_, in went mr. fly. i thought right away that a big vacuum cleaner would make a fine moth catcher if we could only get near enough to the moths. and i even figured out a plan for a large one which wouldn't cost very much and could be made mostly of wood. but i knew it was foolish 'cause we couldn't get near the moths. then--" "great! i see your plan. you are going to attract your moths by a light and then catch 'em with the suction cleaner," exclaimed bruce. "sure, and here's how i'm going to do it. i'm going to take one of the automobile's searchlights and shine it off on to some trees and then put the vacuum cleaner just under the light beams. then when mr. moth comes flying down the path of light and gets over the top of the sucker--_zing_, in he goes. get my idea? wait, i'll draw a plan of the thing for you," and, rushing over to the writing table in the corner, nipper began to draw hastily while the scouts all crowded around him and watched. "there you are. there's the whole plan of the thing. easy to make and easy to operate and i guess it's original all right." the drawings traveled from hand to hand, each lad scrutinizing them carefully for some fault in the mechanical detail. "jiminy, i think you've struck it," exclaimed gordon. "struck it? why, man, he's got the first prize in his pocket right now," insisted romper as he looked over the plans. "well, if it meets with your approval, fellows, let's get busy right now and build our moth trap." "right-o. no more procras--something-or-other, as bruce said the other day. we'll get busy immediately," said bud weir. "well, first of all i think we should talk it over with mr. ford. he will be able to see flaws in our plans where we can't, you know," said nipper. "that was exactly my idea. and, by the way, did you notice that the pamphlet from the mayor's office named mr. ford among the members of the judging committee in this contest?" said bruce. "yes, i did," said bud, "and for that reason i think he would like to see us boys try for the prize even though we don't win anything. come on, we'll go over and talk with him." bud was quite right. when mr. ford learned that the boys had become interested in the fight against the brown tail moth he was delighted. "that's the stuff, scouts. take an interest in everything in the nature of a public improvement. if you grow up with that idea in mind you will make useful citizens," he said, when the boys informed him that they had been studying the brown tail moth campaign and intended to try for one of the town's prizes. "well, i'm afraid that it was more of a selfish motive that led us to take an interest. the troop needs one of those prizes to swell its treasury," said bruce. "never mind, many of the noblest works in this world resulted from the selfish desire on the part of some one who wanted to win some kind of a prize. but i won't sermonize. let me see what you have in mind as a moth exterminator," said the assistant scoutmaster. the electrical engineer spent nearly half an hour in silent contemplation of nipper's drawings after the plan had been explained to him. finally, his eyes sparkling with amusement, he laid the drawings onto his desk and remarked: "by jove, you fellows are about the keenest observers i've met in some time. it all grew out of watching a vacuum cleaner, eh? well, well, well, i think that idea is remarkable. i'm certain it will work. you should have it patented immediately. make another set of drawings for me, nipper, and i'll send them down to my patent attorney in washington. perhaps you may have struck it richer than you expect. you may be able to put the device on the market. who knows? in the meantime get busy and build one and let me see how it works." "we are going down and buy the material right away," said bruce, enthusiastically, "and father says he will have the suction fan made over in his shop. it can be built of sheet iron and won't cost much, you know." "all right, go ahead. i'll come over to headquarters now and then and watch you work," said mr. ford. chapter ix working to win not since the days preceding the firemen's tournament when the motorcycle fire department was being outfitted had the scout engineers been busier than they were the following few weeks. every afternoon after the academy let out, and every evening they could spare from their studies was devoted to the construction of the moth trap. they worked with snap and vim, for upon the success of their product depended the possibility of a troop motorboat. and it was well that they had this enthusiasm, for a time limit had been set on the contest. according to the information received from the mayor's office the contest would close the last monday in june and the five days following would be devoted to testing the various methods and appliances entered. with the assistance of mr. ford the lads had already made their entry, sending drawings and details of their device to the committee of judges. but in spite of their fast work it was apparent that they would not complete their contrivance until the middle or latter part of the week set for the test. they were determined that $ of the $ offered by the town should be added to the troop's account in the woodbridge bank, however, and when scouts take that attitude in any matter one can rest assured of a period of industry. they worked like beavers and the _rap, rap, rap_ of hammers, the _buzz-z-z_ of band and jigsaws and the _hum-m_ of motors could be heard in their workshop on the first floor of the headquarters building at almost any hour. of course, the boys were not entirely sure that they would win first or even third prize, because there were any number of others competing for the same honors. indeed, farmers and even business men in and around woodbridge were experimenting with chemical exterminators and various other ingenious devices and all of these would have an equal chance with the appliance invented by the boys. but the lads were sportsmen enough to take their chances with the rest. indeed, they even went so far as to stake some of the precious motor money on the result, for they took fifteen dollars from the woodbridge bank to pay for the lumber and other material needed to build nipper's big vacuum pest catcher. "if we don't win that prize now all our chances for a motorboat are gone for sure," said babe wilson when bud weir announced the withdrawal of part of the fund. "well, that isn't the way to look at it. just say we are going to win the prize and then get busy and work for it," insisted bud, trying to instil confidence in the stout scout. day by day the neatly finished boards grew to represent nipper's idea of a moth exterminator. and finally, after what seemed to the boys an unusually long time, the suction fan arrived from bruce's father's mill. it was already attached to a one-quarter horsepower electric motor, for mr. clifford knew that none of the motors in the scouts' workshop were small enough to be used on a fan with six-inch blades. by this time the lads had all but finished the big wooden trumpet and it was only necessary to set the fan, bolt the motor into place and give the whole thing a coat of paint. but already the last monday of the month had passed and only a day or two remained in which the boys could test their machine before the judges. day and night since the beginning of the week contestants had been claiming the attention of the judges with their schemes for extermination. most of these had been tried out and many were said to be very successful. on one or two occasions the scouts had gone out to look over these tests, but to their mind none of them looked as effective as the moth trap they were building. on thursday night mr. ford visited headquarters looking rather anxious, for he had heard very little from the boys during the last few days and he was afraid they were not going to put their machine together in time to appear before the judging committee with it. he was greatly relieved to find that the lads were about to put the motor and fan in place and he realized that this marked almost the last stage of their work. "well, boys, it looks all right to me," he said. "when are you going to be ready for the official tryout?" "just as soon as we can put the automobile lamp into place. we are building some iron brackets for that now. we'll be all ready by tomorrow evening, i guess. that will give us one full day leeway. the tests can be conducted up to midnight saturday, can't they?" "sure, i'll see that the judges are ready for you. i have an engagement that may keep me a little bit late, but i'll get there. where are you going to test it?" "out on the back road here; down by the bend opposite chipman's hill," said nipper. "fine, i'll be there. say, by the way, i was talking about your idea down town this evening and a reporter from the _journal_ heard me. he seemed very much interested when i told him about your work and he wants to come up and see the machine. he'll probably be up some time to-morrow. perhaps i can get him up to see the test. if i can i--listen, is that some one coming? sure enough, perhaps it is he. open the door, bruce." bruce swung open the big double door and rogan, one of the reporters for the woodbridge _journal_ and the local correspondent for the st. cloud _call_, entered. "hello, boys," he shouted good naturedly. "heard you have a new wrinkle in moth catchers. is that the machine? looks mighty businesslike. is it ready to test? well, if there isn't mr. ford. how are you? what do you think of the scout's invention? how does it work? whose idea is it. where--?" "oh, goodness gracious, don't ask 'em so fast," said bruce. "we'll answer them one at a time and explain the machine to you if you'll give us a chance." "sure. excuse me. go right ahead," said hogan, his inquisitive blue eyes taking in everything in the room. nipper had the honor of describing his own invention, which he did with no little pride. and evidently rogan was impressed for, after cross examining mr. ford and going into the device from every angle, he wrote a two-column story which appeared on the first page of the journal the following morning. also he telephoned a story to the st. cloud paper which the boys read the following afternoon. as soon as the academy closed the next day the scouts hurried to headquarters, for they had a great deal to do before they could carry out the test that evening. two or three attended to the work of removing one of the searchlights from "old nanc" and putting it into place on top of the moth catcher, while the rest of the boys strung a temporary line of wire from the headquarters' switchboard to a point about two hundred yards up the road. they intended to conduct the test there and throw the searchlight into the trees on chipman hill across the valley. it was dinner time when the wires were in place and the scouts, after a last look about, all went home to get something to eat and to wait the coming of darkness. they began to return to headquarters about half past seven. bruce, nipper knapp, and ray martin were the first to arrive and, to their surprise, they found at least two dozen people waiting outside of headquarters. "well, what does this meant" inquired bruce of nipper. "well, i guess they read rogan's story in the journal. he said we were going to have a test to-night, you know." "then we're going to have a gallery of spectators! oh, well, we don't mind, do we, boys?" "you bet we don't--if the thing will only work," said nipper. soon, other scouts arrived and presently an automobile rolled up to the door and four of the town's councilmen climbed out. the party was composed of mr. bassett, mr. bates, mr. adams and mr. franklin, all members of the mayor's committee of judges. the lads were disappointed not to see mr. ford among them, but they felt confident that he would appear in time for the official test. the councilmen looked over the moth trap with critical eyes and asked innumerable questions. then finally mr. bassett, chairman of the committee, spoke. "well, scouts, it surely looks like a good plan, but will it catch 'em, that's what we want to know?" "we are not certain of that ourselves, sir, but we'll take it out and test it. then we'll surely know," said nipper. in a few moments the moth catcher had been loaded into "old nanc" and the scouts, judges and about one hundred townfolk who had gathered to see the demonstration, started up otter creek road. by the time the boys had loaded the moth catcher into "old nanc" the entire troop was there. twilight had gone and the stars were coming out when "old nanc" arrived at the appointed location. every one was extremely curious and the moment the moth catcher was put on the ground men and women alike began to inspect the contrivance closely. it was fully twenty minutes before the boys could connect the wires to the searchlight and the motor. then a scout was sent post haste back to headquarters to throw the switch and let the current into the new line. when this was done nipper, who was in charge on this occasion, took his place beside the contrivance. scouts with staffs were detailed to keep the small crowd back and away from the front of the machine. "are you all ready, nipper?" said bruce. "sure," said nipper. then, "say, is mr. ford here? i wish he was; i'd like to have him see this. oh, bruce, if it will only work! i'm getting as nervous as a cat." he glanced toward the automobile where the four judges sat waiting. "tut, tut, don't get fussed," said bruce, trying hard to conceal his own suppressed excitement. "all right, here goes," said nipper as he turned the lamp switch, and a moment later the motor switch. instantly a long arm of light reached out across the valley and focused on the heavy growth of elm trees on the opposite hill side. the motor began to hum and the fan to buzz loudly. every one was attention. every eye was riveted in the long shaft of light that stretched forth into the night. a minute they waited, two minutes, five minutes! nothing happened! "oh--this suspense is terrible," groaned nipper. "you're right, it is," whispered bruce. every scout felt the same way. was it a failure? was their idea only visionary, alter all? oh, why didn't something happen to relieve the tension. why didn't-- "look! there's a moth," said some one. "where?" asked half a dozen breathlessly. "out there! look! can't you see him?" said others. sure enough, coming down the long pathway of light was a solitary moth winging its fitful way toward the lamp. now it was in the light and now it dodged out into the darkness. but always it returned a few feet nearer to the waiting scouts. it seemed irresistibly drawn toward the auto lamp. "come on, come a little closer and we'll have you," whispered nipper excitedly. on it came toward the upturned mouth of the vacuum. it was ten feet away, then eight, seven, six. now it felt the air disturbance, for it began to flutter harder. then--_zipp_! it was caught in the air current and in a twinkle disappeared down the yawning month of the sucker. a mighty cheer went up. but they were silenced quickly when another moth appeared. but before this one had gone half way down the light shaft, two others came. then came two more, then three or four, until they were fluttering in the white light like so many scraps of paper. and always when they reached a point over the opening of the sucker they were whisked out of sight like a flash, to be carried into the big bag at the other end of the machine. the crowd began to press in closer. the men were talking loudly now and congratulating the young engineers, and as for nipper and his comrades, well, they were pleased, and showed it by the smiles they wore. but just at this moment the sound of an automobile coming from the direction of headquarters was heard and the next instant mr. ford's car dashed up. "hello, boys, how's she working?" he inquired and there was something in the tone of his voice that disturbed the scouts. "why, it's running in great shape. we have nearly half a bag full of moths now. what's the matter?" queried nipper. "well, i have some bad news for you. i'm sorry, fellows, but your little machine isn't as original as we thought it was. here's a telegram i received this evening from my attorneys in washington. they say that a machine like yours was invented in germany several years ago and patented in this country, too. they say several stories were printed about it in german and american magazines at the time. that means that we can't put it on the market as we had visions of doing and--!" "well, well, that's too bad," said deep-voiced mr. bassett, who had come out of the automobile with the other judges to hear what mr. ford had to say. "too bad they can't get a patent on it. i thought the lads had an a- business proposition here and i was about to make 'em a spot cash offer for an interest in it. why, it's the best thing we've seen in all the tests. no one has had anything anywhere near as good." "but--but--you don't mean we can't win the contest," stammered nipper nervously, looking at mr. bassett. "win! win! why, lads, you've won in a walk. hasn't he, gentlemen? we haven't seen anything as good as this, have we?" "we certainly have not," said mr. adams. "of course, the boys win. they get the $ prize, but that's a mighty small amount for such ingenuity. if it wasn't for that german inventor you could have made thousands of dollars out--" "pshaw, we only wanted first prize," exclaimed nipper knapp. then he shouted, "hi, fellows, we win, and we'll have our motorboat whoope-e-e-e! three cheers." and all, including the men, joined in: "hip--hip--hoo-ray!" the noise of which didn't bother the moths in the least as they kept on fluttering toward the light and disappearing into the trap. chapter x the boy from arizona "say, fellows, i have the idea we--" "jiminy!" interrupted jiminy gordon. "romper's got an idea--first he ever had in his life. come, spit it out, and if it isn't any better than the rest we've been listening to, we'll maul you--won't we, fellows?" "bet we will," said bud weir. "we'll duck him in the creek," threatened nipper knapp. "come on there, young man, let us know what's in your cranium. none of the rest of us has been able to get even the glimmer of an intelligent suggestion," said bruce clifford. "well, here it is," said romper, getting to his feet. "we'll furnish a climax to our part of the fourth of july celebration by presenting woodbridge with a city flag--we'll make the suggestion, get it approved by the village council, have old granny mastin make it and pres--" "hi, hi, not so fast--you're rushing along like a train of cars--trying to dodge that ducking, aren't you? now, slower--what's this idea? what do you mean by a city flag? never heard of such a thing before," said ray martin. "huh, you haven't? well, you're a fine scout. don't you ever read the papers?" said romper with disgust. "i've heard of it," interrupted bruce, "and it's a bully suggestion. a number of american cities have flags--a distinctive ensign, just like patrol flags that we scouts have. new york has just adopted one, and i can't see why woodbridge shouldn't have a flag of her own. romper's idea is a corker. we can suggest a flag and get the approval of the woodbridge council. then on the fourth we can present it to the city and have grand old celebration. romper deserves a vote of thanks instead of a ducking." in truth, romper had piloted quarry troop out of a most trying dilemma. here is how matters stood before he suddenly became inspired: woodbridge had been planning a safe and sane fourth of july celebration, with a pageant, municipal night fireworks and various other forms of a good time. all of which was to take place at the firemen's tournament field on the outskirts of the town. quarry troop had been invited to give an exhibition. so far as that was concerned, the boys were ready and willing to give exhibitions in almost any of the many branches of scouting at a moment's notice, for they were all well trained. but the fact that the occasion was independence day and that there would be hundreds of strangers watching them made the lads eager to give an extra good performance and end with a grand flourish--something spectacular. now, just what this climax was to be required deep thought, and half a dozen of the older scouts of the troop had gathered under the big maple in front of their machine-shop headquarters on otter creek hill to ponder the situation. they had been sprawled in various attitudes in the shade of the old tree for more than half an hour, each one doing his utmost to think of something original. all kinds of suggestions were advanced, but none was worth considering until romper finally stirred up his flag idea. it did not take the wide-awake youngsters long to comprehend the spectacular element in this proposition, however, and presently they were talking away at a furious rate, planning the details. "look here, why not make the order of events like this," said bruce. "first we'll pitch a real scout camp and then put up our wireless outfit, just as we had decided. beforehand we'll erect a big pole and a little pole to hold the aerial. 'old nanc' can carry the outfit we have on the headquarters roof to firemen's field and we can borrow one of the batteries from dad's electric truck and take that along to furnish our current. "then, after the wireless is up and working, we can wind up the performance by presenting the town with a flag. that should make a real hit, eh, fellows? we'll get mr. ford to make a speech from the reviewing stand and then, after the mayor has answered, we'll raise the flag on the big aerial pole and salute it. how do you like that for a programme?" "great," exclaimed several of the scouts. "bully," said bud. "best ever," asserted nipper knapp. "but say, here we've been talking about giving the town a flag, now what's it to look like?" "jove, that's right," said ray martin. "what sort of a flag is it to be? let's make it green and purple, green to signify--ah--" "yes, let's add pink, canary and sky blue," interrupted sarcastic babe wilson, "what do you think this is going to be, a rainbow?" "well, i think we should talk the plan over with mr. ford and let him give our suggestion to the city councilmen. they may have some ideas as to what the woodbridge flag should look like," said bruce. "sure," said ray. "all right, i'll--" "say, fellows," interrupted romper in a whisper, while he watched a solitary figure coming up the road, "here comes that chap we had at headquarters yesterday, dick what's-his-name?" "sure enough," said bud weir. "say, come on fellows, let's go inside; we don't want a 'fraid raid cat like him hanging around with us." "aw, say, that isn't right," replied bruce in an undertone. "don't snub a fellow like that. i think it was sort of childish for him to be afraid, but he looks like a pretty good chap, at that." but the lad in question evidently did not intend to "hang around." instead he made his way up otter creek hill, passed the group in front of headquarters with a nod and a cheerful "howdy" and continued on his way. he was a short, thickset youngster of about sixteen and he walked with a peculiar stride, for his legs were slightly bowed. dick austin was his name and he had come from his home in arizona to spend his summer vacation with an aunt in woodbridge. several of the scouts had met him at various places in the village since he had been in town, and had tried to make his acquaintance, but he seemed to keep to himself a great deal. the day before the fourth of july conference under the maple, however, two of the lads had encountered him on the street, and out of pure kindness of heart had invited him to accompany them to headquarters. but much to their surprise dick did not like the machine shop at all. he objected to the hum of motors and he jumped every time he saw the flashes from the wireless spark gap. he refused to try a ride on the tandem seat of one of the troop's motorcycles, and when he received a slight shock after several of the boys had persuaded him to take hold of the handles of a static electric machine, he became thoroughly frightened. "look year," he said with a decided southern accent, "i don't like this hear 'lectric business no how. hit's dangerous stuff an' i'm afeard o' hit. yo' see i ham 't been used t' hit down whar i lived an' i cain 't feel comfortable with a lot of machinery so close to me. no, sirree, i'd rather leg it out o' here and git into t' open." whereupon he left headquarters without waiting to listen to the scouts, who tried to explain that it was only high-tension electricity that was not at all dangerous and that there was no current of that nature at headquarters. dick's attitude had quite surprised the quarry scouts. how a normal boy could fail to be interested in machinery, know nothing about electricity, and actually refuse to ride on a motorcycle because the throbbing engine scared him, was more than they could understand. they quickly decided that he was a coward and had already lost respect for him, as was evident from the caustic comments made by the group under the maple after he had passed. "huh," said ray martin, "just imagine a fellow getting fidgety over a motor; regular girl." "it does seem queer," said bruce. then getting to his feet and brushing the dust from his trousers he continued: "say, fellows, if we are going to try this flag stunt i think it's up to us to get a wiggle on. we've only two weeks to do the work in, you know. i'm going to see mr. ford now and talk it over with him. who wants to go along?" "i'll go," said bud weir. "so'll i," added romper. "all right, come along," replied bruce. and five minutes later three motorcycles were scooting out toward the hydro-electric plant where mr. ford, the quarry troop's assistant scoutmaster, was superintendent. two days later three lads in scout uniforms were to be seen in the ante-room of the council chamber in the woodbridge town hall. they composed the flag committee of the quarry troop and as they sat there in the straight-backed chairs they looked to be the most uncomfortable trio in all the state of vermont. and they were uncomfortable. you see, bruce, bud and romper were waiting patiently the decision of the councilmen, who were convening behind the closed doors of the room to their left. it was the occasion of the regular weekly meeting of the body, but the fact that the town fathers were debating the adoption of a town flag made the session the most important in the history of woodbridge, so far as the three scouts were concerned. "huh, we've been sitting here just fifteen minutes; seems like fifteen hours," said bruce in a husky whisper. his eyes were on the big regulator clock that ticked away solemnly on the wall across the room. as for bud and romper, they remained silent, gazing nervously out the window. a little later romper said: "maybe they're going to turn us down and--" he was interrupted by the opening of the swinging doors that led to the council chamber. mr. bennet, mayor worthington's secretary, appeared. "scouts," he said, saluting, "the mayor would like the pleasure of your presence in the council room." it required every ounce of self-control the scouts could summon to walk into that sanctum. how they managed to travel the space from one room to the other without stumbling over rugs or doorsills will ever be a mystery to them. presently, however, they found themselves at the lower end of the long mahogany table at which the nine officials were seated. at the head was the dignified mayor, while to the right and left were ranged the councilmen, all of whom the boys recognized when finally they became more accustomed to the surroundings. "scouts," said the mayor, and at the sound of his voice each lad saluted, "we have considered your plan to present the town of woodbridge with a flag, and we have unanimously voted it an excellent idea. moreover, lads, we have adopted the design and colors of the proposed emblem." this good news helped to dispel the scouts' nervousness. they were too attentive now to think of being timid. "we have decided," continued mr. worthington, "that the design shall be a blood red flag with a city seal in the center of it. it shall be red because that is the color that signifies strength, fire, virility, and all that is healthy and normal. and we shall follow the lead of other cities and have an official seal of the community; for the seal, we have decided on the pine tree of vermont in the upper portion and a quarry derrick, signifying the marble industry of woodbridge, below. how do you like that, boys?" "wonderful," exclaimed the three lads in unison. "glad to hear it. now good luck to you and i hope our fourth of july celebration is a big success," said the town's chief, dismissing them with a bow. the scouts were all smiles as they descended the broad steps of the town hall and started down the gravel path to the street, where they had left their motorcycles. "jove, we'll have some celebration, eh, fellows?" said romper. "you bet we will," assured bud. "yes, but we have a lot of work to do yet before everything will be ready," stated bruce. "we'll go over to granny mastin's right away and find out if she'll make the flag for us. we'll get nipper to drawn a design for her. then we'll have to come back and get the silk and whatever else she wants to do the work with. and say, fellows, we'll have to erect our poles at firemen's field, do you realize that? we'll be mighty busy for a while--hello, look who's inspecting our motorcycles." bud and romper looked up in time to see dick austin, the boy from arizona, scrutinizing the three machines that were lined up at the curb. "howdy," he said as they came up. "i was just eyeing these here critters. look blamed ferocious, they do." "would you like to ride on the tandem behind me?" asked bruce. "who, me?" exclaimed dick. "no, sirree, yo' cain't git me to straddle that there animal. ef 'twas a hoss i'd be tickled to death, but you cain't git a snorting machine under me." "huh," said bud, contemptuously, when dick was out of earshot, "that sounds like a bluff to me. bet he's afraid of a horse, too." "oh, i don't know," said bruce, as he started his engine, "he has the legs of a horseman and he comes from arizona, you know." "yes, but he's a scared cat," asserted romper as the trip got under way. chapter xi the courage of a coward woodbridge was a profusion of bunting and streamers on independence day. almost every building, from the meanest little stores on stone street to the big business blocks on willow and state streets, was gay with flags and emblems. the thoroughfares were thronged with people, too. summer folk from the cities, mingled with the easily distinguished farmers who had come to town for the celebration, and these with the residents made the population of the town almost double its normal size. soon after the dinner hour the crowd all began to move in one direction, for everybody was headed for the exhibition grounds. firemen's field was an ideal place for the celebration. it was in a broad unfenced stretch of valley bottom on the outskirts of town and a grandstand had been erected there for the firemen's tournament in the spring, so well remembered by the "smoke-eaters" of quarry troop. a deep woods stretched along the west side of the field and otter creek formed the southern boundary, while the highway to st. cloud ran across its northern extreme. there were several acres of broad green lawn in front of the grandstand, and the only obstructions in the whole area were the tall and short poles the scouts had erected. these, however, had been placed so as not to interfere with the dancing and other events scheduled for the day. the grandstand was filled to capacity long before the hour set for the beginning of the ceremonies, and by the time the mayor and various other officials had entered their special reviewing stand hundreds of people were massed in a semicircle about the field. to one side of the entrance was a group of gay colored tents or marquees, about which were crowded hundreds of tiny tots, all arrayed in the gaudy carnival dress. some were ladies of the french courts, some were garbed in colonial costumes and some were masquerading as bears or as wolves. one group was wearing the wooden shoes and frocks of holland, another group was costumed as russian peasants and still others were dressed to represent german, swedish, danish and irish folk. the campfire girls were there, too, in a special little marquee by themselves, and to the right of their location was the quarry troop, every lad in full uniform, and looking very important. "corking crowd, eh, bruce?" said nipper knapp, who stood watching the bank of faces in the grandstand. "you bet it is. say, we'll have to do our finest. not a hitch to-day, fellows," said bruce. "right-o," asserted half a dozen members of the troop enthusiastically. then every one became silent, for the director of the carnival had taken the center of the field. a moment he stood there and surveyed his performers, then he gave the signal for the music, and presently the grand march was under way. hundreds of youngsters ranging from tiny tots who were to take part in a mother goose scene, to the stalwart scouts themselves, formed in line and paraded around the field, passing in front of the stands. a very impressive scene representing the signing of the declaration of independence was the first number on the program. in this, several academy boys took the parts of john hancock, john adams and john dickinson, and the members of the first congress. immediately following came the folk dances, in which scores of pretty girls in costumes executed the national dances of the various foreign countries. these little maids tripped lightly to the fantastic dance music of the people of the old world for fully twenty minutes and as the last group began the final steps of a pretty scotch fantasy bruce stood up and mustered the scouts in line. "we're next, fellows. now do your finest. are the tents ready and the rest of the equipment in order? how's 'old nanc'?" he called. but it was needless to ask the question, for the lads had been ready for fully fifteen minutes. "how about the flag?" asked bruce, as the little girls danced their way off the field and the band changed to a martial air. "all safe," said romper, who had been appointed custodian of the precious bunting. "fine!" said the leader of the owl patrol. bugler benson sounded the call, "forward, scouts," and the brown-clad column started toward the tall pole near the center of the field, where mr. ford, in scoutmaster's uniform, stood waiting. they marched in scout order with "old nanc," laden with the wireless equipment trundling slowly behind them. for a moment the lads stood in line in front of the grandstand and saluted, then at a word from mr. ford they broke ranks, and presently a scout camp was growing before the surprised spectators' eyes. tents were erected in a jiffy, scouts were scuttling here and there with camp equipment, cooking utensils and firewood. some were mixing dough, some frying bacon, some cutting wood and some carrying pails of water. within ten minutes a model scout camp had appeared in the center of firemen's field. but presently the spectators discovered that they were doing something even more interesting than building camp. a half dozen scouts under the direction of bruce were unloading queer looking sections of electrical apparatus from the troop's home-made automobile. while this was being done, bud weir strapped on his climbing spurs and began to climb the tall pole, carrying the end of a good strong manila halyard. this he wove through the pulley at the top and soon the scouts were hoisting one end of the wireless aerials up to him. this was quickly adjusted, as was the machinery on the ground, and in a few minutes the wireless station had been assembled and bruce was at the key, flashing crackling messages into the air. applause came from the grandstand, but before the clapping died away, the lads lined up in front of the taller of the two poles again and romper produced a roll of shining red silk from one of the tents. with this under his arm he took his place before the flagpole and waited, one hand upon the new halyard, which still remained in the pulley. at this sign mr. ford stood out and, removing his campaign hat, faced the spectators and the reviewing stand. "honored mayor, ladies and gentlemen," he said, "the boys of quarry troop no. have been granted the privilege by the town council to present woodbridge with a city flag. it is our--" the assistant scoutmaster paused here. in the crowd before him he saw scores of frightened faces. he saw men pointing and heard women cry out in terror. he saw children cower and scamper for the protection of the grandstand. instantly all turned and looked across the field toward the strip of woods that bordered it, and what they saw paralyzed them with horror. there on the edge of the wood that bordered the west of the field, shaking his massive head menacingly and pawing the ground, stood ponto, the great black and white bull of the lyman stock farm. the most savage animal in woodbridge had broken through his barrier and, attracted by the applause of the people, had wandered through the woods to firemen's field. and the wrath that kindled in his wicked eyes as he stood and watched the assemblage made even the bravest scout shudder. for a moment the lads stood as if robbed of their presence of mind by the unfamiliar emergency. but the next instant they were stirred to action by the rush of some one running and a cry: "quick, scouts, take care of the children. get these year kiddies out o' danger. i'll 'tend to the bull." this was from a stocky lad with legs slightly bowed, who pushed through the group of boys and laid hold of the halyard of the flagpole. in an instant he had whipped out his jack-knife and severed the rope. then he began to haul it out of the pulley overhead, meanwhile shouting for the scouts to quiet the already panic-stricken crowd and hurry the children out of danger. bruce gave one look at the boy from arizona and in his eyes saw something that told him he was master of the situation. then he turned to the scouts. "he can handle the bull, boys," he cried; "come, work fast, get the children back." and the next instant the scouts, armed with their staffs, began to herd the tiny tots behind the grandstand, leaving dick austin alone in the center of the field. the lad from arizona was working frantically. with his knife he cut the flag from the rope and with the line thus freed began to weave a bowline knot into one end. this he made to serve as the ring for a lariat, and presently he had a fifteen-foot loop spread out before him on the ground. then with his eyes on the enraged bull he coiled the rest of the rope into his left hand. and all the time he worked his plucky face wore a grim smile. as for the bull, he stood there grunting and pawing the sod furiously, his fiery eyes fastened on the lone figure. but it was not in dick austin's make-up to flee from a bull. instead, he shouted: "come on, you old son-of-a-gun," and he actually kicked the red silk flag into the air to tantalize the animal. this was too much for the beast. when he saw the red flag flaunted at him by this puny human he let out a bellow and charged. dick was on his toes in an instant. with a twist of his hand he started the loop circling about his head, while his eyes were fastened on the enraged animal charging toward him with lowered head. nearer he came! dick could see the red in his distended nostrils; he could see the cords and arteries in his massive neck and shoulders standing out under his velvety skin. he could feel the ground tremble under the pounding of his heavy feet. the next instant those short, ugly, black tipped horns might be buried into his flesh and he would be tossed into the air. and if he dropped limp and helpless he would be stamped to death. the beast was twenty feet away now. his head dropped lower for the final plunge. he lunged his great body forward. but the boy was not there! like a panther, dick had leaped behind the flag-pole, but not until he had hurled the whistling loop straight at the charging animal's feet. then with a quick turn he snubbed the line about the pole. the next instant the great beast's legs were jerked out from under him and with a roar of rage he turned a complete somersault and crashed to the ground, every bit of his wrath jarred out of him by the stunning impact. in a twinkle dick came from behind the pole and with the lariat still in his hands rushed toward the prostrate animal. two dexterous twists were all he made and the hind legs of the bull were lashed as fast as the front ones and savage ponto was helpless. after the members of the quarry troop had viewed the municipal fireworks in front of town hall that night they gathered at headquarters to discuss the day's events before going home. but there was only one event to be discussed, and that was on the lips of every individual in town. "by jove, i called him a coward," said bud weir. "but if there's a fellow among us who has as much sand as he had--i--i---well, by cracky, there isn't any." "well," said bruce thoughtfully. "it's this way--ah--er--i mean-- aw, shucks, i can't express it the way i want to, but he surely didn't shirk the duty for which he was prepared. he told me this morning that lassoing cattle (roping he calls it) and riding horses is part of a day's work where he comes from." "i don't care if he is skittish about machinery," said romper ryan emphatically, "i'm going to see that dick austin becomes a scout before he leaves woodbridge; he's the kind of a chap we need." chapter xii the scout life guards' beach patrol bruce and two companions, romper ryan and jiminy gordon, were passing the post office just as morton mccabe, the little old man who delivered mail in the southern district of woodbridge, came down the broad stone steps. "how are you, mr. mccabe?" saluted bruce. "hello, boys; fine, fine, thanks. say, did you get your letter?" said the diminutive postman, who always talked very fast and tried to crowd as many sentences as he could into a single breath. "letter?" demanded bruce, "what letter?" "why, i left a letter up at headquarters for you this morning. it was addressed to you, care of quarry troop no. , of woodbridge. came from old harbor beach, maine. saw the postmark. big letter. looked important." "is that so? thank you, mr. mccabe," said brace. "who do you know at old harbor beach, bruce?" asked romper. "that's what i was wondering. i can't figure it out. the letter must be meant for all of us, or else it wouldn't have been mailed to headquarters. come on, fellows, we'll see what it is." ten minutes later the three lads arrived at headquarters. there was the big blue envelope sticking under the door. bruce picked it up and ripped it open, while his companions crowded around and looked over his shoulder. hastily the patrol leader's eyes ran through the first paragraph. then, as if he could not believe what he had read, he started to go over it again. "out loud, out loud. don't be so blamed stingy," said romper, who was eager to hear the news it contained. "i--er--aw, say, this must be a joke. gee, if it isn't, it's the biggest piece of luck the troop has had in some time. listen, fellows:" bruce clifford, chief of the motor cycle fire department, woodbridge, vt. my dear bruce: from what i have heard of your motor cycle fire department i have come to the conclusion that the members of your troop are exactly the boys i need to help me this summer. i would like to hire the services of ten scouts to take charge of a motorcycle life-saving corps i am organizing at old harbor beach. i own all the bathing concessions here and we have a strip of the finest beach along the atlantic coast. it is fifteen miles long, just as firm as concrete. the bathing here is treacherous at times, however, and there have been several lives lost far this summer. i do not care to have any more such accidents and i want a good crew of life savers to help me. this crew will cover the beach on especially designed motorcycles. i know you scouts are trained in first aid work and are well fitted for these duties, and that is why i am eager to have your services. of course i want only the ten best swimmers in the troop. it is necessary that you come to old harbor beach at once, as the international automobile races will be held here next week, and these with several large conventions will bring thousands of people to old harbor from now until the end of the summer. i will pay transportation for ten scouts and will board you and pay each of you $ . a week. if these terms are satisfactory, wire me at once and i will send a cheek to cover expenses. very truly yours, j. arthur herrick, president, old harbor improvement association. "by jiminy, what do you think of that?" exclaimed gordon in amazement. "jove, i can't believe it. seems like a--well, i think some one is making fun of us," said bruce. "wait, i'll read it over again and see if i can see a joker in it somewhere." once more he read it aloud, while romper and jiminy gordon listened. "sounds mighty good on second reading," asserted romper. "it sure does," exclaimed gordon enthusiastically, "and just think, fellows, if we go we can see the internationals. jove, i was looking over the entry list in the paper this morning. the best automobile drivers in the world will be there--st. clare, dublan, osterhout, and--and--best of all, dan dacy, the american, who has been smashing all of the old records. the papers say dacy is the favorite. he's going to make a new record in everything from five to fifteen miles and trim the frenchmen and the germans an--" "oh, say, quit! we're not there yet. gee, you almost make me believe i'm really going," said romper. "but what's to prevent?" demanded jiminy. "well--well--i don't know, unless this letter is a joke." "we'll find out if it is or not by sending a wire immediately," said bruce, who had been thinking the situation over. "yes, but first why not get the troop together and see if we can get ten good swimmers whose parents will let them go? we can call a meeting this afternoon and send our telegram to-night," said romper. "right-o; good suggestion," said jimmy. "and i really think we should submit the whole thing to mr. ford and get his opinion before we take definite action. if some one is joshing us, he'll be able to see through it all right." but subsequent events proved conclusively that the letter was not a joke. the scouts called their meeting immediately, and after a careful study of the troop's merit badge list, and a painful process of elimination, the ten oldest and best fitted scouts of the troop were selected to become members of the life-saving crew. then bruce, romper and jiminy took the letter to mr. ford and gave him the whole details of the case. mr. ford read the letter slowly, carefully considering every detail. then he laid it down and removed his glasses. "well, boys, if you want my opinion on the whole matter, i would say that you were quite the luckiest lot of chaps i've ever heard of. i spent a summer in old harbor beach three years ago, and, of course, i met mr. herrick. he is quite the finest man i ever hope to come in contact with; big, stout and jovial, and as good-hearted as can be. if your parents will let you, i would advise every one to accept the offer." "cracky, we are in luck, fellows. i move we telegraph our acceptance right away," said romper. "i move we turn the matter over to mr. ford and let him telegraph. he's our scoutmaster, and i'm sure mr. herrick would feel better about the whole thing if he found he was dealing with a grown-up person," said bruce. "right," said jiminy and romper. "well, if that's how the wind lies, i'll do it," said mr. ford; "only you boys consult your parents first and tell me what they have to say." "whoop-e-e, we will see the internationals!" exclaimed jiminy. "yes, and we get a month at the seashore. when'll we start?" demanded romper. "just as soon as the money arrives. about tuesday, i should guess," said bruce, as the lads left mr. ford's house. it is hardly natural for ten thoroughly healthy scouts to be confined to the restricted limits of a day coach for four solid hours without becoming extremely weary of the monotony of it all. bruce and the rest of the members of quarry troop no. became quite restive before the long journey to old harbor beach ended. indeed, the lads were thoroughly pleased when, after the engine whistle had emitted a prolonged shriek, the conductor poked his head in at the door and drawled--"'old har-b-o-r--, old harbor beach! next stop port junction." "thank goodness we're here at last," exclaimed nipper knapp, as he began to gather his luggage together. "that's the best news i've heard to-day," insisted bud weir, swinging his suitcase to his shoulder and crowding out into the aisle with the rest of the scouts. a stout good-natured looking man with a little five-year-old girl in a bathing suit perched on his shoulder and a big collie dog romping by his side, was easily the most conspicuous individual on the long station platform. bruce caught sight of him as he descended the steps of the coach. "that's mr. herrick, or i'm a duffer at guessing," he said to romper, who was just behind him. "you're not a duffer, for here he comes to welcome us," said ray martin, who had overheard the remark. indeed, as soon as the big man saw the group of uniformed scouts leaving the train he hurried toward them. "hello, there, boys. i'm the one you're looking for, i guess. my name's herrick." "my name is bruce clifford, mr. herrick," said the patrol leader, extending his hand, "and these are the life-savers you have been looking for." "good, i'll learn your names later, boys, and if i don't, i'll give you names that'll be just as good, won't i, may? boys, this is my daughter may. now come along with me to my office on the pier and i'll outline just what my plans are. i want you to go on guard as soon as you can, for the crowd at the beach is getting larger with every train that pulls in. the internationals start to-morrow, you know. the racing cars are all here. for a week past they have been tearing up and down the beach from sunrise until the bathers begin to turn out for their morning dip. sort of tuning up for the big events." "will we be able to see the races?" asked gordon eagerly. "i don't see why not. they start to-morrow and will last for three days," replied mr. herrick. "won't that be great," exclaimed several as they fell in line behind mr. herrick and accompanied him through the resort toward the pier. old harbor beach was like all other high-class watering places along the atlantic coast, only a great deal larger than the average. at least a dozen tremendous hotels were located on the heights back of the beach. there were the usual number of shore restaurants and candy stores, too, and a board walk that stretched along the entire waterfront. below this was a great wide beach of pure white sand as firm as a well-paved road, and fairly crowded with bathers. this beach was known throughout the world as an automobile race course, and many a speed record had been made on it. "so this is the famous old harbor beach race course?" said jiminy, as he eyed the straightaway. "that's what it is, son, and if you'll look away down there you'll see a number of low green sheds. those are the garages where the speed maniacs store their high-powered cars." "jiminy!" whispered gordon, thoroughly awed. mr. herrick's office was in the big white building at the shore end of the steel recreation pier. without any ceremony he ushered the lads into the room and had them make themselves at home. this invitation the scouts accepted by promptly taking a seat on whatever was handiest, including window sills, tables and even the floor; mr. herrick sat down at his desk, while the collie curled up at his feet and his daughter took her place on his knee. "scouts," he said, "there have been three very sad occurrences at the beach this summer, and while in each case the fault lay entirely with the bather, i feel very much disturbed by the accidents, and i don't want any more to take place this year. i have called upon you boys to help me prevent them. remember, from now on you lads are the guardians of the lives of bathers at old harbor beach." he spoke the last sentence very impressively. "here's my plan," he continued after a pause. "last winter i was out to california, and at one of the beaches i saw a motorcycle life-saving corps that had been organized by an old-time lifesaver. it pleased me so much that i decided to have the same sort of a patrol on my beach. i ordered two motorcycles built along the lines of the machines used there. they arrived here two days ago and are now in their garages waiting for you. these cars are equipped with all kinds of life-saving and first-aid devices, including a stretcher, a pulmotor, bandages and medicines of all kinds. there will be two men to a motorcycle; a driver and a man on the tandem seat, ready to spring from the wheel and plunge into the surf and make a rescue. he should be the best swimmer of the pair, of course. "all along the beach i have had signal towers built, each of which will be manned by a scout. he will keep constant vigil, and, at the first sign of trouble in his vicinity, he will flash a warning to the next tower. the scouts in that tower will flash the signal on until it reaches the lookout at the garage. then the motorcycle will be off to the scene of trouble, tearing down the beach at a mile-a-minute clip. how does that strike you?" "great," exclaimed several of the scouts in unison. "well, don't get the idea that it's all fun. indeed, it's mighty serious business, i'll have you know. on your quickness to respond to an alarm and upon your bravery and cool-headedness in a crisis will depend a human life, perhaps several of them," said mr. herrick. "we realize that," said bruce soberly. "i guess you'll do, all right. i've heard a great deal about you vermont scouts and i guess you'll be able to do what i ask of you and do it right. now, if you are ready, we'll go down to one of the garages; there are two of them. if you will look out of the window you will see one about a mile down the beach there. the other is a mile to the north of us. the distance between the two stations includes all of the beach reserved for bathers and it will give each machine about a mile to patrol. "the garages have just been completed. each will contain sleeping accommodations for five boys. you will divide your crew into two patrols, with a leader for each patrol. one patrol will occupy the north station and the other the south. there will be two life savers and three watchmen to each patrol. do you understand?" "indeed, we do," said bruce. "good," said mr. herrick. then, after sending his little daughter out on to the beach to romp with her collie companion, he continued: "come on and we'll inspect your new quarters." and, with mr. herrick in the lead the scouts filed out upon the pier and down a long iron stairway to the beach below. through crowds of bathers the lads made their way until they arrived at a long, low structure built near the board walk. this was the south station. carpenters and painters were putting the finishing touches on to the building, and it looked to the scouts as if they were going to have a capital home in which to spend the month of august. inside the big double doors were two rooms. the rear room was equipped with five white iron beds and several chiffoniers and wash stand, while the front apartment contained the life guard's motorcycle. "jimmy, look at that machine," exclaimed gordon, who was the first one to enter the building. "cracky, it's the best make on the market, too," said nipper knapp, examining the maker's name plate. "bet it will burn up the beach, eh, fellows?" said romper. "it sure will. it's a two-cylinder tandem. it'll make fifty miles an hour, or i'm no judge," said bruce enthusiastically. "like it, boys?" queried mr. herrick, who had been watching them as they inspected the apparatus. "like it! gee, we couldn't help but like it. it's a corker. but what's that side car paraphernalia, that long box and the cigar-shaped tin can and the reel with wire cable on it, and all that?" "i'll explain that to you right away," said mr. herrick. "that long, flat-topped box on the side car serves several purposes. when you want to take an unconscious person to the emergency hospital over on beach avenue you can use the box as a stretcher. just put your patient on to the top of it and while the man on the tandem seat holds him fast the driver can rush the machine off to its destination at top speed; regular mile-a-minute ambulance service, you see. "under that flat top are a lot of interesting things. the box contains several compartments in which are all sorts of first-aid preparations, including bandages, medicines, aromatic stimulants and the like. and, last of all, there is a pulmotor." "oh, i've heard of the pulmotor and always wanted to see one in use," said bud. "well, i'll tell you how they work," said mr. herrick. "it is the latest thing in the way of first-aid appliances. it pumps oxygen into the lungs of an unconscious person automatically. firemen and life savers all over the world are using them now. that blue tank there contained oxygen. this machinery under the glass covering is a pump that works by the pressure of the oxygen. a little of the oxygen escapes from the tank and moves the pump, which forces the life-giving gas into those long pipes. that muzzle at the end of the pipes is placed over the victim's mouth and nose, and in that way the oxygen enters the lungs. you boys can study the directions for its use on the cover of the box here. when you have a pulmotor around you won't have to resort to the artificial respiration drill described in your handbook. try it out on each other until you know exactly how to handle it." "you bet we will. we'll work out a regular rescue exercise, won't we, fellows?" said bruce. "right-o!" exclaimed half a dozen lads in unison. "fine. now, i'll explain the way a rescue is made by the california life savers. that reel of wire cable and the cigar-shaped float attached to the rear end of the side car is a very important factor in rescue work. the float has a life belt attached to it, as you can see. when a rescue is to be made the motorcycle comes to a stop at the water's edge and the man on the tandem seat leaps off and seizes the float. he buckles the life belt on to him as he plunges into the water and the man on shore reels out the cable as the rescuer swims to the person in trouble. when the life saver reaches the man or woman he is after he does not have to struggle to keep afloat, for the buoy holds him on top of the water. if he has to dive for the drowning one, he merely unbuckles the life belt and when he comes to the surface the buoy is right there for him to seize hold of, or, if he chose to, he could strap it fast to the one he is trying to save. the wire cable is very light, but very strong, and when the buoy is made fast to any one, the man on shore hauls away and drags the body out, just as he would haul out a big fish." "jove, but _that's_ an outfit for you," exclaimed romper. "well, i'm glad you like it, scouts. the outfit in the north station is identically the same. i didn't spare any money to have your equipment the finest." "that's mighty good of you," said bruce. "why, it's to my own interest, lads. a single life saved is worth more to me than all the money i've put into this scheme. now it's up to you boys to make good my investment." "we'll do it," shouted the scouts in unison. "alright, boys, that's all i ask. i'll leave you now. you can organize your own patrols and select your own leaders without my help. when you get hungry, go to the pine grove hotel i've arranged to have all your meals served to you there. "you can spend the rest of the afternoon becoming familiar with the apparatus, and i guess you'll have all the time you want to practice during the next two or three days, for while the races are on no bathers will be allowed on the beach. well, good-by and good luck to you." and the genial bath house proprietor left the scouts to their own devices. "jiminy, fellows, i can't believe it. some one pinch me, please. i want to see if i'm awake. just think of being in charge of such an outfit," said gordon after mr. herrick had left. "it does seem like a dream, doesn't it?" said bruce, examining the contents of the first-aid chest that formed the body of the side car. "come on, let's dig into this and see what we have to work with." that invitation was unnecessary, for several of the lads were rummaging through the chest while others were inspecting the machine and still others were wandering through the building looking their new quarters over. so occupied were they in this pleasant occupation that they completely forgot the time. indeed, it was after six o'clock before they realized it. and since six o'clock was the dinner hour at the hotel the lads hustled off up the beach to find their boarding place. for an hour after they left the hotel the scouts wandered through the resort acquainting themselves with the place. at eight they all returned to the south station, for they realized that they still had a great deal to do that evening. when the electric lights were lit and the scouts were comfortably situated in the bedroom of the station, bruce called a meeting. the four best swimmers were selected first. they were jiminy, romper, bud and bruce. after a vote jiminy and bruce were selected to man the motorcycle in the south station, while the two others were appointed operators of the apparatus in the north station. the six remaining lads were appointed lookouts to man the beach towers. three were attached to the north station crew, of which bud was made leader, and the other three were appointed members of bruce's south station crew. before the meeting adjourned it was decided that all ten scouts remain in the south station for the night, since there would be very little work for them to do next day. bruce also thought it wise to have all the lads together while they were learning to use the pulmotor and becoming familiar with their apparatus. then, too, the south station was better located to afford the lads a view of the automobile races next morning, which counted for a great deal. by sleeping two in a bed and disregarding any slight discomforts the ten lads found that they could occupy quarters meant to accommodate only five. and after a round of pillow fights and similar nocturnal diversions they were finally all tucked in and ready for sleep. "well, good-night, fellows. hope we all sleep comfortably," shouted romper after the lights had been turned out. "good-night yourself," shouted jiminy. then he added, "hi, fellows, the internationals to-morrow! whoop--e-e-e!" chapter xiii the day of the big race bang--bang-bankety-bang-bang-bang! the ten scouts bounded out of bed at once. all were wide eyed with excitement and wonder. "what the dickens! an earthquake!" demanded bud weir. jiminy gordon was the first one to the window. "gee whiz, look at him go!" "look at who--what?" "why that was one of the racing cars," said jiminy. "they are tuning up for the big races to-day. guess it was a foreign car from the racket it made. all the mufflers off. couldn't make out just which car it was though. going so fast it looked just like a gray streak. i--" "bnr-r-r-r-r bumpety-boom-boom-boom-b a n g bang-bang!" "whoopee-e-e, here's another one," screamed jiminy. the ten scouts rushed to the front door of the building, ignoring the fact that they were clad only in pajamas and night shirts, and waved to the passing racer. "cracky, look at him tear up the beach," exclaimed bruce. "rather early in the morning to risk one's neck, eh? it's only four o'clock. guess they are doing their last tuning up before the events start," said jiminy. "say, how do they race?" asked fat babe wilson. "do they line 'em up like a lot of sprinters and start 'em when a pistol is fired?" "well, they may do some match racing tomorrow, but to-day i think they will hold their time trials. they will race to see who can make the best time over the course," said jiminy. "how fast can they go?" asked ray martin. "oh, they can make a mile in half a minute. the world's record for a mile is twenty-five and one-half seconds," said gordon, who was more or less of an authority on automobiles among the members of the quarry troop. "gee whizz! say what can they make fifteen miles in? how long will it take 'em to go the full length of the beach?" asked bruce. "well, the world's record for fifteen miles is just ten minutes flat. that's an old record and dan dacy says he's going to smash it to smithereens to-day. hope he does. say, fellows, what do you say to going down and looking over the garages before breakfast?" "fine, let's get some clothes on and we'll start right away," said romper. dressing was only a matter of a few minutes and presently the troop was on its way down the boardwalk toward the point where the series of green-peaked roofs located the garages of the speed maniacs. although it was not yet five o'clock in the morning there were scores of people on the board walk all headed in the same direction. "say, this is going to be a big day all right," said ray martin, as he noted the enthusiasm that prevailed. "right-o, just look at the crowd down there at the garages already this morning," said bruce. about each of the low houses were grouped dozens of curiosity seekers. the scouts soon joined the throng and began to inspect the quarters of the races. each garage contained a big sullen looking car about which was grouped half a dozen mechanics. these men were tinkering here, tightening a bolt there, or wiping and polishing the great machines as if they were so many sacred elephants. mechanical parts, pumps, jacks, boxes of tools, cans of oil, extra tires and wheels, cushions and innumerable odds and ends were scattered about each building and everybody seemed to be keyed up to an extreme nervous pitch. on every side could be heard remarks about the cars and drivers, their records and their chances for winning the various events. the excitement was infectious and before they realized it the scouts were as thoroughly interested as every one else. they began to talk automobiles to all with whom they came in contact and soon picked up a great deal of information about the notables who were to take part in the races. "say, bruce," said jiminy gordon suddenly, "there's dan dacy. see him. that big, tall, light-haired fellow down there. i've seen his picture so many times that i almost feel as if know him. come on, we'll go down and see his machine. that must be his garage--yes, it is. see the sign over the door. vix-benson, it says. that's the car he's going to drive." the scouts followed jiminy and bruce and soon found themselves part of a very large crowd gathered about the famous driver's headquarters. dacy was the favorite american in the race and since he was to operate one of the best known american cars everybody was enthusiastic to see him carry off the honors of the event in which he was entered. he was standing by the door of his garage watching his attendants tinker with his machine, when the scouts came up. the lads pushed their way through the crowd to reach the rope railing about the entrance to the garage, and when the tall racer saw them, he smiled and waved his hand. "how are you, scouts?" he said good-naturedly. then without waiting for an answer he came over to the rope. "where are you fellows from?" he demanded. "woodbridge, vermont, sir," said bruce. "woodbridge, vermont? well, you came a long way to see the races, didn't you?" he said, a boyish smile playing about the corners of his mouth. "well, not exactly. you see we are here on business. that is, we've been hired as life guards at old harbor. we're going to patrol the beach for the rest of the summer. "oh-ho, so you are the chaps mr. herrick was telling me about--have motorcycles and all that sort of rigging, eh? say, boys, that's a great scheme. i saw the original motor cycle life guards work out in california last year, and they're great, too. hope you have luck." then after shaking hands with bruce and jiminy and two or three other scouts, he turned and entered the garage, for one of his mechanics had called him. and although dan dacy did not realize it, this spirit of democracy had won him ten thoroughly capable rooters, for the scouts were more than pleased with his friendship. "say isn't he a corking fine chap," exclaimed bruce. "i should say he was; a regular pippin' i'd call him," said jiminy stoutly. and he looked at his companions as if he dared any one of them to deny it. the crowd about the garage was growing to tremendous proportions, and it was all that the scouts could do to extricate themselves. when they finally reached the open beach again, bruce looked at his watch. "say, fellows, it's getting late," he exclaimed; "it's six o'clock and we haven't had any breakfast. i think we will have to hustle over to the hotel if we want to get back to quarters and have a drill before the races start." "right-o," exclaimed babe wilson, "i know it's getting late because my stomach feels all shriveled up for want of something to eat." "huh, that stomach of yours," said jiminy gordon in disgust, as he took a lingering look toward the garages. a moment later he fell in line with the rest of the lads, who started up the board walk toward the hotel. on their way back the scouts paid a brief visit to the north station, but they all returned to bruce's domain at half-past seven, for the north station crew was rather eager to stay in the vicinity of the lower station for a better view of the races. then, too, they had decided the night before that it would be well for all of them to practice their first aid work together. there was very little need for the lookouts to man their tower during this practice work, for they needed no drilling since all of their signaling would be done with signal flags and the semaphore signal code which is part of the examination for all second class scouts. that being the case, bruce decided that all of the lads would devote the morning to operating the pulmotor, while the four life savers made frequent plunges into the surf so as to become accustomed to swimming with the aid of the buoy. one after another the lads operated the pulmotor upon a supposed victim until each had learned the proper method of adjusting and strapping fast the mouthpiece, and which screws to turn to start and stop the oxygen pump. an hour of this practice work was quite sufficient, and when it was finished bruce and jiminy and bud and romper, turn about, took the motor cycle for short dashes up the beach and indulged in a mock rescue at ten o'clock the drilling was stopped, for the racing automobiles began to appear on the beach in final preparation for the races which were scheduled to start at eleven. "say, fellows, that rescue work is some fun," said jiminy gordon, as he emerged from the surf for the last time and came toward the station. "you bet it is," said bruce, as he shut off the power of the motorcycle and wheeled the machine into its quarters. "and the water is just snappy enough to feel good, too. you know, i think i'll stay in my bathing suit all day, even though there won't be any bathers to rescue. i want to get tanned up right away," added jiminy. "good idea," exclaimed several, with enthusiasm, and forthwith they all donned the special maroon bathing suits that mr. herrick had provided for his life guards. but it is hard to tell whether it was the desire to acquire a good coat of tan or the opportunity afforded them to display their rather pretentious bathing suits, that moved them to take this step. however, fifteen minutes later, a group of ten uniformed and more or less self-conscious beach guards were sunning themselves in front of the south station in full view of the thousands of people who were gathering on the board walk to view the races. by eleven o'clock the crowd had increased to a veritable horde. thousands lined the board walk from the garages to the finish line and hundreds of automobiles were parked in every roadway. special guards, composed of the local troop of boy scouts with their staffs and a troop of militia from portland had been detailed to keep the sightseers orderly and in position on the board walk. they were all having their hands full accomplishing the task, however, for the automobile enthusiasts began to get restless as the time for the start of the races drew near. at five minutes after eleven the band on the recreation pier, which had been blaring forth popular airs for an hour, ceased, and a moment later the judges made their appearance on the beach. this was a signal for prolonged cheering on the part of the crowd. but the noise stopped when a single individual carrying a black and white flag stepped out into the course and began wigwagging. he was signaling to another individual at the garages, who in turn transmitted his signal to the starting line in the dim distance down the beach. "that means everything is ready. the first car will start in a moment," said jiminy gordon nervously. every one was gazing down the beach, where a tiny black blotch on the sand marked the dozen or more racing cars held ready for the start. then when every one was waiting tense and silent--boom! came the muffled echo of the starting gun. --they're off! cried the crowd, and far, far down the beach the scouts could see the tiniest black speck coming toward them. soon they heard a curious far-off drone which developed quickly into a grumble, then into a fusillade of loud bangs as the racing car approached. the scouts were all on their feet now, nervous and expectant. "osterhout, the german," cried the spectators, as the long, low racer drew near. then almost before the scouts could wink, it had roared past, its hood enveloped in blue flames and its driver bending low over the steering gear. "gee whiz!" was all that the amazed scouts could say when the big car roared across the line. a brief but tense silence followed the finish of the run, for the crowd waited while the judges, by means of an elaborate system of telephone communicated with the starters, fixed the time. presently, however, the huge scoreboard on the recreation pier displayed: osterhout, two minutes seconds. this announcement was greeted by a roar, for the german had equaled the world record for five miles. "cracky," cried jimmy gordon, "dan dacy will have to go some to beat that. just think, if osterhout had been one-fifth of a second faster he'd have smashed the world's record. gosh, i wish--" boom! here comes another one! silence reigned in the vast crowd again and every eye followed the black speck. "du blon," guessed some; "st. clare," said others; "wolverton," asserted several enthusiasts. but before the big racer had traveled half of the course the hum of its engines ceased and the black speck gradually came to a halt. wolverton it proved to be and his car had developed engine trouble. the stafford car was out of the race. st. clare and du blon followed in quick cession, each of them driving their madly flying vehicles to the limit of endurance, but each fell behind osterhout's mark by several seconds. mccalkin, the ruddy-faced irish driver, was the next sensation. his was the smallest car of the race in point of length. indeed, it looked as if it had collided with a telegraph pole and lost most of its hood. but under that snub nose were concealed six perfectly good cylinders that spat fire all the way down the course and shot the car over the finish line two seconds better than the world's record. what a roar of applause greeted the boyish driver when the figures were displayed! even the scouts forgot for a moment that they were rooting exclusively for dan dacy and burst forth in a ringing cheer. but presently their attention was diverted from this achievement, for word was passed from the judges' stand that dan dacy with his vix-benson was the next contestant. "dan dacy next!" was the word that passed from mouth to mouth through the crowd. every one was a-tip-toe with excitement. all eyes were strained on the starting line. "gee, i hope he comes through with a new record," said bruce anxiously. "he will," asserted jiminy gordon positively. boom! five thousand pairs of eyes were fastened on the tiny black speck that detached itself from the black blot far down the beach, and sped northward. ten thousand ears were strained to catch the first far-off hum of the motor dacy was coming. his vix-benson was burning up the beach. now the scouts caught the buzz of the motor. it grew louder with the passing of every second. like a black projectile the car came on, flames from the throbbing cylinders licking about the hood. "dacy! dacy! danny dacy! make it a new record!" screamed the electrified crowd while he was yet two miles from the finish line. unquestionably he was the favorite. on came the roaring racer. the car was just a gray blur that hardly seemed to touch the beach, and begoggled dan dacy looked like the hooded messenger of death. then with an ear-splitting roar the great machine passed the scouts on the last mile of the course! "by jiminy, it's a new record or i'll-- oh mercy! look! look! she'll be killed!" the scouts stood transfixed with horror. up the beach in the very path of the flying motor stood little may herrick, clutching a red rubber ball in her hand and looking at the coming machine with horror written in every line of her childish face. the whole situation was clear. the tot had dropped her ball, which had rolled out onto the sloping beach. with her mind only on rescuing the plaything, she had pulled herself out of her nurse's grasp and run out onto the race course. and then when she found herself in the path of certain death she had become panic-stricken. dan dacy's heart must have leapt to his throat when he saw the little one in his way. but if it did it in no way affected his nerve. he knew that to turn the steering wheel but an inch meant certain destruction to the careening car and a broken neck for himself perhaps. yet he braved this hideous fate and wrenched at the steering gear. there was a terrific roar, a crash of shattered metal and in a cloud of sand the big gray racer turned abruptly and plunged end over end down the beach into the curling breakers. the crowd gave vent to a shriek of alarm when they saw dan dacy's limp form shoot clear of the wreck and go whirling, arms and legs flying out toward the point where the combers were breaking. like every one of the five thousand witnesses of the tragedy, the scouts stood paralyzed for a moment--but only for a moment--bruce was the first to gather his scattered wits. "quick, jiminy! we'll get him! come! he may still be alive! the rest of you fellows follow on foot!" while he was speaking, bruce rushed into the station and started the motor cycle. jiminy was right behind him and an instant later the powerful machine was making forty miles an hour over the sandy beach. bruce bent low over the handle bars while jiminy clung on and sought to buckle the life buoy belt about his waist. when the machine reached the wrecked motor car bruce brought it to an abrupt stop. but already jimmy had leaped from the machine and plunged into the water. with powerful overhand strokes he breasted the breakers. he seemed to shoot through the water, so mighty were his efforts. thirty feet out he saw something bobbing upon the surface of the water. it was dacy's leather helmet. toward this jiminy headed and the water fairly boiled with the struggle he was making to reach the spot. in a few seconds he was near enough to reach out and grasp the black object. but he let go of it immediately and the next moment he was seen to prepare for a dive under the surface. a few feet away he had seen some air bubbles coming to the top. in a jiffy he had unbuckled the life buoy. then like a seal the lithe youngster sought the dark green depths, following the line of bubbles. down he swam, deeper and deeper, for on the white, sandy bottom he could see a dark, shapeless mass turning round and round with the action of the water. he reached out to seize it and his lingers slipped from the driver's leather jacket. again he tried, and his hand closed about the cold wrist of the unconscious man. then he turned and started to struggle upward, dragging his heavy burden after him. it was hard work--terrible work, for he had dived deep and he was badly in need of air. his lungs felt as if they would burst. the blood pressure in his neck and head was almost unbearable. at first he could make no headway. the drowning man seemed to hold fast to the bottom. but he fought hard for he realized that if he let go of dacy he would have difficulty in finding him with a second dive. every moment was precious, too. there might still be a spark of life in the limp form he was trying to rescue. up, up, he struggled. above he could see the light of day. great green bubbles raced past him. only a few feet now. only a second or two longer. thus did he spur himself onward until suddenly his head shot clear of the waves, and, with a-gasp, he filled his tortured lungs with new air. ten feet away danced the cigar-shaped float with its life belt, and swimming toward him from the crowded beach were two other scouts ready to help. jimmy summoned every ounce of his remaining strength and held the head of the unconscious man above the water. and when the spectators saw that he had actually made the rescue a cheer louder and longer than any that had greeted the racers rent the air. it was hard work and jiminy was at the point of exhaustion, yet he tried his utmost to buckle the life belt about poor dacy. but while he fumbled with the straps the two other scouts arrived and relieved him of the task. quickly the belt was adjusted and the sign flashed to bruce, who seized the steel cable and hauled away. then the two lads turned their attention to jiminy and between them aided him into shallow water. by the time the three swimmers reached the beach the scouts had cleared dacy's lungs of water and had started the pulmotor. for twenty minutes the lads worked valiantly, doing everything that they could to bring back life in the unconscious man, while the anxious crowd looked on. finally their efforts were rewarded. dacy's eyelids quivered several times, then slowly opened, whereat the crowd gave a mad cry of joy and the scouts had all they could do to keep them from pressing closer. but one man did break through the circle of guards and the lads let him pass. he was mr. herrick. tears of joy coursed down his good natured face when he saw that dacy was still alive, and before the scouts could restrain him he seized the prostrate man's hand and squeezed it while he murmured: "dacy, dacy, thank goodness you are still alive. i was afraid you had sacrificed your life to save that little girl of mine." then turning toward bruce, he said, "scouts, i don't know how to thank you for this. i--" "don't try to thank us, mr. herrick," said bruce, "but you can help us put him onto the side car. i think we should get to a doctor's right away, for there may be some broken bones or internal injuries." and a few moments later the life guard's motorcycle was carrying its first patient to the emergency hospital. chapter xiv when the unexpected happened whack--"nine-hundred-en-ten;" whack--"nine-hundred-en-'leven," whack, "zare ees almoost une tousan trees what you boys mus' cut awraty. what you zink of zat?" said paul nez, the big french-canadian lumber cruiser, as he hacked a blaze into a six-inch poplar and left his short hatchet wedged fast while he felt through his pockets for a handkerchief. "et will take you all ze wintair for ze work mebbe, huh?" he continued, as he blew his nose with a loud blast. "george! i shouldn't wonder if it would take us a couple of months at least," said bruce clifford as he sat down upon a stump and pushed his hat back upon his head. "yes, snow will be thick through here when we finally finish, i guess," added jiminy gordon, surveying the forest. "well, the doctair lyman he say he not such great rush," smiled the canadian. then he paused and seemed to search into the very heart of the wood with his coal black eyes, and all this time he kept sniffing the air. "camp 'round here sure. one no good camp too, mebby," said he finally as he pointed toward the west. "i thought i smelled the smoke of a camp fire," said bruce. "so did i," added jiminy. "i smell heem smoke, i smell heem scraps, too. no good camp, no know woods. mebby heem get seek. come on. we all through now. we find 'em wood road now soon. doctair lyman heem line run cross by that blaze over tair; you see heem, huh? heem end of doctair lyman's wood." "so that's the line, eh? well, twenty-five acres of woods is a lot of territory, isn't it, bruce?" said jimmy, as he picked up his scout hatchet and slipped into his belt. the canadian wrenched his hatchet free from the poplar and started swinging westward between the trees and the two quarry troop scouts fell in behind him in single file. and as they walked on the smell of the camp lire, and the tainted odor that emanates from a camp's garbage dump grew stronger to their nostrils. then presently the camp itself loomed up at the very side of the wood road for which the canadian lumberman was headed. a single wall tent of large proportions was the most conspicuous thing about the place. this had its flaps pinned back and in the doorway, reclining on a collapsible canvas camp chair with a bandage-swathed foot propped up on a soap box sat one of the occupants. the woodsman and the two quarry scouts needed only a glance at the little clearing to know that those who had built it here knew nothing at all about the woods and were, moreover, very disorderly by nature. blankets lay in a confused heap among leaves and twigs instead of being hung up to dry; empty cans, paste board boxes and scraps of paper littered the place; fire burned entirely too near a dry brush pile and there was no stone fireplace to hold it in check; loose papers were scattered about and to make matters even worse, the pots and pans that had been used to cook the last meal lay on the ground unwashed. it was indeed a bungle of a camp but if the single occupant realized it he did not seem to care a whit for he sat serenely in the doorway of the tent so interested in a book that he did not hear paul nez and his young companions approaching. "'allo, you get heem broke foot, mebby?" said paul with a grin as he moved toward the tent. the camper looked up with a start, and then smiled. "yes, i twisted my right ankle yesterday by falling down a gully, and ouch--don't make me move 'cause it hurts like sin. glad it isn't sprained though. it ought to be well in four or five days. anything you want? anything we can do for you? if there is, go ahead and do it yourself. the rest of the fellows are off partridge hunting. what do you want, provisions, matches? i'll tell you where they are and you can help yourself. i can't move." "we don't want heem nothin'. we go out of woods now right off, down wood road. why you don't fix heem camp up good? look um fire--poor, bad, very worse. some day heem catch bush so, leaves mebby, and then heem timber fire. burn out heem woods. look um pans, pots, dirty dishes. not good for smell. not good for men in heem woods. blankets, look um all get lousy. not very good camp, heem," said the canadian, plainly showing his disgust at the general disorder about the place. "i know it, old chap. it looks like the sloppiest kind of a place to me, but then i'm not supposed to know anything about camps and woods. i come from boston, you see. the other fellows are the campers. they are vermonters, from st. cloud city," said the man in the doorway sarcastically. "huh, a deuced of a lot they know about the woods and camping," said bruce in disgust as he surveyed the scene. "they know more about keeping a pig sty," said jiminy gordon as he picked up the blankets and, shaking them free of the dust, hung them onto the branch of a nearby hemlock. "thanks, old chap, those blankets on the ground worried me a lot. and if you don't mind, will you scrape up a few of those papers? jack and bart (they are the fellows who are camping with me) run off every morning and leave a mess like that behind. they are off hunting most of the day and here i have to sit like a blooming invalid until they come back. but i don't mind so long as i have a good book. thanks, that looks much better, doesn't it? i'm much obliged to you fellows--ah--er, what're your names anyway--mine's dave--dave connors." the two scouts introduced themselves and then because paul nez had started down the wood road they waved farewell to the camper with the injured foot and hustled to catch up to the timber cruiser. "when you come into heem woods for cut um down?" asked the canadian when the scouts finally caught up with him. "why we are going to start cutting right away," said bruce. "you see we get a fall vacation and that will help a lot. school closes tomorrow and remains closed until next monday. the whole troop is coming up to long lake tomorrow afternoon after school closes, to start a camp and remain here the whole week. then after that we are going to come up every friday night and work all day saturday until our contract is completed and we have enough lumber to build our log camp." they swung along down the wood toward long lake where they met the main highway that led back toward woodbridge and scout headquarters. the members of the quarry troop of woodbridge had taken upon themselves a real contract. indeed they felt that they had suddenly all become genuine business men as a result of a bargain they had made with the leading physician of the village, for you see their little stroke of dickering had put them in the way of securing material for a real log cabin on the shores of long lake, a site for the cabin, and a chance to make a little money for the troop treasury besides. it had come about this way. mr. ford, the assistant scoutmaster of the quarry troop, had learned from dr. lyman that he intended to cut a great deal of the standing timber on his tract of twenty-five acres bordering the lake. this he intended to dispose of as pulp wood, the only purpose it was really good for. mr. ford had imparted this information to bruce clifford and jiminy gordon that same evening and it was not long before the leader of the owl patrol and his chum had discovered the possibilities of a business deal. accordingly after the next meeting the two lads visited dr. lyman and made him a proposition to the effect that the scouts would cut his pulp wood and take their pay in trees. these trees, the lads explained, were to be felled and used to construct a log cabin on the lake shore. as part of the bargain they asked for permission to use a section of dr. lyman's land that bordered the lake as a site for their camp. the plan struck the physician as being capital and he was particularly pleased to find that the boys were eager to earn their pleasure with good hard work. in fact he was so pleased that he made a bargain whereby the boys would get one cord of wood in every four cut and they could have their wood either in trees or in cord wood lengths, just as they desired. under this arrangement it was quite apparent that the boys would have more than enough lumber to build their log cabin and dr. lyman told them that he would buy whatever extra wood fell to their share and pay for it at the market price of pulp wood. moreover, to help the boys, the physician arranged to have paul nez, an experienced timber cruiser, traverse the woods, blazing each tree of the proper pulp wood species and size thus giving the boys a clear idea of what timber to cut and what to leave standing. and bruce and jiminy were asked to accompany him so that they might become familiar with the forest. tramping the length and breadth of twenty-five acres of wood land, blazing every tree between six and eight inches, was not the easiest sort of work the scouts had ever undertaken, and when they finally arrived at woodbridge at four o'clock in the afternoon they were "plum tuckered," to quote jiminy. however, a brief rest and a hearty evening meal put them in fine shape once more and they were able to get to the troop headquarters betimes that evening, for a meeting had been called at which plans were to be laid for the start of the lumber camp. mr. ford was at headquarters to hear the details of the cruise from jiminy and bruce, and he also gave the scouts some expert advice as to the equipment they would want for the beginning of the camp on the morrow. among other things he suggested that they build a winter camp immediately by putting up lean-tos with thatched roofs on the shores of the lake. these would be warmer than their tents and would make more or less comfortable quarters until along toward snow time, when the big log cabin the lads hoped to build would be well on its way toward completion. then, too, these structures could be left in the woods and would always be ready for the boys, whereas if they used their tents they would have to make and break camp every saturday. the assistant scoutmaster also made out lists of provisions, clothes and equipment for the boys and they spent a busy evening getting everything together and in shape for an early start next morning. in the weird half light of dawn next day, long before woodbridge was awake and stirring, nearly a score of scouts were hustling toward headquarters on the crown of otter hill. every lad was in uniform and most of them wore mackinaws or sweaters to keep out the early morning chill. also each carried the family ax, and over his shoulder blanket roll and haversack. "old nanc," the troop's automobile, stood in front of the old machine shop piled high with tarpaulins, cooking utensils, provisions, and a dozen and one other things that the scouts used in their summer camp, and in the driver's seat was brad henshaw, dr. lyman's chauffeur. several of the boys found room for themselves on the running board; the others went on their motorcycles, which were to be brought back in the car, for there was no safe place in camp for such things. it was with considerable groaning and grumbling that the home-made automobile finally got under way, but when she was safely started the rest of the expedition followed in her wake, and trundled on toward their destination. a little after sun-up found the lads at the lake shore. here "old nanc" and the cycles were halted, for there was no chance of her making her way along the uneven wood road that skirted the lake for half a mile before it turned and entered the heart of the forest. at this point the scouts detrained, as it were, and deposited all their luggage on the ground. then, having unloaded the automobile, they proceeded to reload her, this time with her brood of gasoline-fed ducklings. this done the outfit was turned over to brad again who immediately started back to woodbridge. for an hour after the departure of the automobile the scouts were as busy as bees carrying their paraphernalia to the camp site which they had picked out on the lake shore at the point where the wood road turned and entered the forest. here was a little stretch of high ground that had been partly cleared by wind-falls and bruce and jiminy had selected it as an ideal location for the camp and site for the troop's future log cabin headquarters. with practically three patrols at work it did not take the lads long to clear away the underbrush and fallen logs in the open space. indeed the whack, whack of their hatchets and the heavier cluck, cluck of their axes could be heard on all sides of the clearing and in a surprisingly short time a big space had been made ready for the camp. dozens of young cedars and fir trees were felled for the lean-tos and in short order the lads were busy with hammers and nails putting up the frame-work of six of these shelters. they worked with a will and the little forest settlement grew apace. after the frame work of the structures was completed the scouts set to work with clasp knives and hatchets and stripped the cedars and firs of their branches. then with this material they began to thatch the sides and roof of the lean-tos working the twigs in and out until they formed a thickly matted protection against the weather. they worked with a will in spite of cut and blistered fingers and pitch blackened hands until it began to look as if they would have their little lumbering village finished and ready for occupancy by mid-afternoon. at half past eleven romper ryan, ray martin and buster benson knocked off shelter-building, for they had been appointed cooks for the camp. hastily they put together a big stone fireplace well away from any leaves and underbrush, and after they had a good fire going they began preparing the first meal at the quarry scout lumber camp. the three lads elected to the commissary department were the best cooks in the troop, and they did themselves proud on that particular occasion, for when romper finally sounded his call to quarters on the bottom of the tin dishpan there were stacks of golden brown country sausages, snowy white boiled potatoes, savory strips of fried bacon, three big pots of steaming hot coffee and last, but not least, nearly a hundred chocolate doughnuts which jiminy gordon's mother had contributed just by way of showing the boys how much she thought of them. in a jiffy seventeen youngsters were assembled in line, tin plate and cup in hand. one by one they filed past the three cooks and received their portions, and shortly after they were all sitting cross legged on the ground, each devoting his full attention to filling a vacant space just under his belt. the only sound that could be heard was the scraping of knives and forks against the tin plates, and now and then a grunt of satisfaction, for their work in the open had given the lads appetites of young sharks. "um-m-m, jiminy, that was some feed!" grunted jiminy gordon as he put down his plate and wiped his mouth on his handkerchief. "you said it, only i wish i could have just one more helping of sausages and maybe a little more potatoes; i think i'd feel entirely satisfied then," said fat babe wilson, looking pleadingly at romper. "aw give him enough to eat, romper, he's only had three helpings already," jeered bud weir. "sorry, babe, but you've cleaned us out. there isn't a potato or a sausage left," said romper. "gee, that's a fine note. want to starve him?" said ray martin, sarcastically. "hi, don't you talk. you got your share before we did. pretty soft being a cook. i'd like to have that job myself," snorted babe wilson. "you leave ray alone, babe. he's some cook, he is. so is romper, too, only he lets his old fire smoke. look at that yellow haze up there among the trees. did your fire make all that smoke, romper?" said bruce. "my fire--why--blame it all it's out. it's plum down to ashes--and, gee! i didn't heat any dish water. hi, buster, what did you let that fire go out for? i told you to put some wood on and heat water." "i--i--aw, i was so hungry i forgot about it. never mind i'll build it again. i--" "say, romper, is your fire really out?" queried bruce, looking at the fireplace. then he added: "sure enough, but by gollies i smell some--i hope it isn't--gee, look over to the west there above the trees: is that smoke? is it? say, fellows, can it be a forest fire? gee, i hope not." "forest fire!" exclaimed half a dozen scouts. every lad jumped to his feet immediately and looked in the direction bruce was pointing. and there they beheld a pall of yellow smoke hanging low above the tree tops. they could smell it, too. the pungent odor of burning hemlock was so strong as to be unmistakable. then for the first time the lads noted that the sunlight seemed dimmed too. "jove, i believe it _is_ a forest fire," cried bud weir. "i'll bet--say, fellows, look at those big jack rabbits, and there's a fox, and look at the birds. it's a forest fire all right, or those animals wouldn't be running out in the open like that and streaking it for the lake. cracky what'll we do? i-- hi, bruce, what's getting you, you're as pale as a ghost?" every lad turned toward the leader of the owl patrol, who stood as if stricken dumb with horror. but even as they gazed at him he shook off the mental fetters and immediately became a lad of action. "fellows," he cried, "listen! there's a man in there--in the fire. perhaps three of them. jiminy, you remember, dave--dave, what's-his-name--connors. you know, the fellow in camp over there with the twisted ankle. we saw him yesterday. he's probably in there yet. we must get him out. he can't move, and a forest fire's about the most terrible thing in the world. quick, fellows! get your blankets and wet 'em in the lake. quick, now! follow me!" chapter xv a narrow escape as usual dave connors awoke to find himself alone in camp that morning. jack and bart, his camping companions, had left at dawn and gone out partridge hunting exactly as they had done every day since dave fell down into the gully and twisted his ankle. they were thoughtful enough to leave the coffee pot within reach of dave's cot, however, along with some fried strips of bacon, bread and butter and a couple of boiled eggs, so that the injured man did not have to hobble about to get his own breakfast. dave dashed a cup of water over his hands and splashed a little in his face by way of performing his toilet and then sitting on the edge of his cot, proceeded to devour what was before him eagerly, for, although his foot was injured, his appetite was entirely healthy. "um--m--m that was good," he muttered as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked down at his bandaged foot. "now if my old kick was in good order i'd go for a long tramp with a gun but--ah,--ouch--still sore and swollen. guess i won't be able to hobble about for a couple of days yet," he reflected as he felt of the injured member. then steadying himself on the edge of the cot with the assistance of a cane that jack cut for him three days before, he hobbled to the tent doorway and looked out. "jove, what a corking day! it's a shame i had to get laid up right at the beginning of the trip. but i'll be all right in a couple of days and i suppose i can stand it as long as my books hold out. but, blame it all, look at this camp. jack and bart are the sloppiest fellows i ever saw. look at the blankets on the ground again and the papers scattered everywhere. and look at the big fire they've left. what for, i wonder? i wish i could get out there and clean up the place. i'll speak to them to-night. i don't think such conditions are sanitary. i--i--ouch, blast it, i can't clean up the place," and with a look of disgust the man from boston limped over to his camp chair and picked up the book that had held his interest the day before. how long he had been reading he did not know; perhaps an hour, perhaps two. but suddenly he was aroused by a strange, unnatural cracking sound. he looked up with a start, and his eyes dilated with horror at what he saw. there, not ten feet from him, creeping and writhing through the dried grass and leaves and darting long yellow tongues toward him menacingly, wormed a streak of fire. it was like a serpent that had crawled out of the embers and sought to catch him unawares. slowly it moved forward, fanned by the fall breeze until it was a big v extending across the camp clearing, with each arm burning. on it advanced, licking up everything in its path. here it consumed a leaf, there a scrap of paper, and each time it devoured something it waxed stronger and more threatening. even while dave sat there staring at it, it reached a dried branch. with a crackle this burst into flame, setting fire in turn to a sheet of newspaper nearby. instantly this was a burning torch. dave tried to knock it out with his cane. but before he could reach it a gust of wind seized and whirled it across the opening, flinging it spitefully against a fir tree. with a hiss and a crackling roar this blazed up. in a moment it was a column of fire stretching skyward. the sight was terrible to behold. then like a whirlwind the arms of fire reached out and enveloped another tree, and sparks flying with the wind lodged in a spruce nearby and converted it into a roaring furnace. and thus in the space of a minute a forest fire was started! the scorching heat of the burning spruce brought dave to his senses. he saw before him a hideous fate. heedless of the pain in his foot he jumped up. his handkerchief be plunged into a pail of drinking water just inside the tent door, then with this wrapped about his face and mouth and with his stout cane in hand, he scrambled across the clearing and into the long wood road that led eastward through the forest toward the lake, half a mile distant. oh, if he could run! if he could only have the use of his injured foot for fifteen minutes, he thought, as he limped on. behind him he could hear the roar of the fire as it reached out and gathered energy by licking up tree after tree. the air was filled with smoke, pungent and nauseating. all about in the forest on either side of the road livid tongues upleaping, consuming everything and growing stronger every moment. on hobbled the man from boston, trying desperately to make time; trying mightily to cheat the fire demons that shrieked and roared behind him. and he was not the only one that was fleeing from the seething furnace that once had been a cool autumn woods. three deer whisked by him like flashes of the fire itself. rabbits, skunks and foxes darted here and there among the trees, all headed for the safety of the lake. and a big black bear lumbered by, grunting with every gallop. how dave envied them. they would be safe. would he? forward he hurried, braving excruciating pain in his injured limb to save his life. acrid smoke blasts swept down upon him and almost stifled him. on every side he could feel the heat of the flames. once a spark dropped upon his shoulder and fired his shirt. with a cry he beat it out and strove harder. the pain in his foot was unbearable. it made the perspiration stand out upon his forehead. it made him whirl with giddiness. but on he plunged, fighting the fire, the smoke and the pain and striving his hardest to gain the lake. once he thought of jack and bart and grew very bitter, for somehow the fire seemed the result of their carelessness. would they be trapped by it? they had two good strong legs. they would save themselves, he hoped. so must he! gritting his teeth and stifling a groan, he tried to gallop, using the cane and injured foot in unison. it was painful, but he must make time--he must go fast, faster. the fire was close behind. it was gaining. he could hear its triumphant roar. it would catch him soon. only a few minutes and a fiery arm would reach out like a python and wrap about him. the thought made him shudder. "no! no! it must not reach me!" he cried in horror and leapt forward. but his cane slipped and jammed between his legs. he tripped and lost his balance. in a mad effort to save himself from falling he put his injured foot forward. his entire weight came down upon it and the ankle snapped. the pain was more than he could stand. with a cry of agony he sank into a limp heap. bruce's startling revelation that there was a life to be saved spurred the scouts to action. one more glance in the direction of the smoke pall to the westward and in a twinkle every lad had his blanket in hand and was sousing it into the lake. handkerchiefs were doused too, for the youngsters knew well that the smoke would soon be so thick that they would need this kind of protection. and while the rest were thus occupied, bruce held a hasty conference with jiminy, and the two boys quickly cut scout staffs. with these in hand they waved the troop forward and started off at a mad pace up the wood road to meet the advancing forest fire. on they raced, the smoke growing heavier and more pungent as they neared the flames. they could hear the deep toned muttering of the conflagration. and all the way along the road they were breasting a tide of forest dwellers, deer, rabbit, bears, and a host of smaller animals, all scurrying away from the roaring doom behind them. soon the lads were in the zone of flying sparks. here and there along the road small fires were being started. these were quickly beaten out, for the boys were determined not to have their retreat cut off. as they moved forward bruce's heart grew heavy, for he could see that already the flames had swept by the camping site of dave connors and his companions. the patrol leader hoped fervently that the injured youth had been able to keep ahead of the rushing fire. they were approaching the fire belt. their eyes smarted from the smoke. they could feel the heat on every hand. they pulled their hats low to protect their foreheads and pushed on. fire was everywhere. here and there pine trees burst into flames with a hiss and a roar, and now and then blazing branches would come hurling through space to fall with a crash in the roadway. bruce began to be worried. had he brought the scouts out on a dangerous but useless mission? had dave connors come down the wood road, or had he gone wandering blindly through the forest to be trapped and burned to death? perhaps even now he was a charred mass somewhere back there in that seething forest. the smoke was so thick that the boys could not see two feet ahead of them, but they struggled forward, beating out menacing tongues of flames on every hand, hoping to keep the roadway open for a retreat. through the smoke they groped; bending low and breathing through their wet handkerchiefs. their eyes burned. their lungs pained with the gases they had inhaled, but they pushed on until suddenly with a cry bruce stumbled and pitched forward. but he was on his feet in an instant, and examining the apparently lifeless mass in the roadway that had tripped him. then with a shout of delight, he summoned jiminy and in an instant a coat stretcher was made with the aid of the scout staffs they had cut. then with the limp form of dave connors between them the two scouts started struggling back toward the lake. away from the fire they raced with the troop behind them still beating out the menacing sparks and flames. forward they hurried, but as they advanced this time their way grew easier and the smoke less pungent. soon they were among the refugees again. rabbits, mink and foxes scuttled along with them, and the boys had to turn out to keep from treading on some of the smaller animals who could not travel as fast as their bigger woods neighbors. the heat of the fire was left behind and falling sparks no longer bothered them. their way to the lake was clear. a few minutes later they reached the knoll upon which their lumber camp was being constructed. here they paused long enough to permit bruce and jiminy to administer first aid to the unconscious dave connors. and while the lads were reviving him, others gathered together hatchets, axes, cooking utensils and whatever else they could conveniently carry, and bidding farewell to their doomed camp they made ready for a plunge into the shallows of the lake. all that afternoon and a good part of the evening, the scouts stood shoulder deep in the cool waters and watched the landscape burn. acres and acres of woodland with thousands of dollars' worth of timber was consumed before their eyes. dave watched it sadly, for he knew that all this ruin had been wrought by him and his careless camping companions. every shallow of the lake was crowded with animal life of all kinds, and the lads knew that thousands of forest dwellers must have perished in that inferno. they stood among deer and bears and other more timid forest dwellers, but the fear of man and the natural enmity toward each other was completely blotted out by the greater fear of the fire, and a seeming sense of comradeship born of common danger. night came, and the sky was a livid pink. the lake had checked the fire's advance to the eastward and the wind had driven the flames north toward the mountains. further and further away traveled the flames painting the sky a sinister color and producing a spectacle that the scouts never forgot. at midnight, though the woods still smoldered, the boys contemplated leaving the shallows in which they had been standing and going ashore, for they argued that if the heat from the embers was not too intense they could work along the margin of the lake until they reached the opposite shore. but while they were contemplating this, off across the lake they saw lights advancing toward them. they heard shouts, too, and they shouted in answer, and it was not long before they had guided a flotilla of small boats toward them. this proved to be a rescuing party organized and headed by the anxious mr. ford and old dr. lyman, who were almost distracted until they made doubly certain that every lad was safe and whole of limb and body. chapter xvi quarry troop's christmas "whew-w-w! hi, shut that door--good night! want to freeze us out?" shouted romper ryan, as he glared across the workshop at bruce clifford and bud weir. "aw, don't get fidgety. you won't ever freeze the way you're hanging over that forge. what's the matter, romper?" asked bruce. "busted the frame of my snowshoe. trying to make a little brace for it and get it fixed up before you fellows arrived." "when'll you be ready? where are the rest of the fellows?" "they're upstairs. i'll be ready in a jiffy now." the two scouts crossed the shop and made their way noisily up the wooden stairs to the meeting room, where they found half a dozen lads in an animated discussion as to where the biggest and best christmas trees were to be found. "i tell you the forest fire cleaned everything out of the long lake district," asserted ray martin. "well, i suppose you want us to go all the way over into bland county this cold day," said fat babe wilson sarcastically. "speaking of forest fires," said bruce, who had come into the room just in time to hear ray martin's remark; "speaking of forest fires, did any of you fellows see the northern lights last night up back of haystack mountain? father and i thought first it _was_ a forest fire. the sky was all pink and white. but we concluded it must have been the reflection of the aurora borealis. you can see 'em this time of year, you know. snow helps their reflection, pop says." "is that what it was? i saw it too, and when i saw the red glow in the sky i just naturally thought of that long lake fire last month. say, by the way i got a postal card from that fellow in boston, we rescued. remember? dave connors is his name--gollies, every time i think of forest fires i shudder. he sure had a close squeak and so did we. that's why that glow in the sky last night sort of made an impression on me. i wondered if any one was caught in it, same as we were nearly caught?" said nipper knapp. "aw, i tell you it wasn't a fire. it was the northern lights back of haystack mountain. dad said so, and he knows, and, say, speaking of haystack mountain," added bruce, "why not go up there for our tree? if this is going to be the town's christmas tree it must be a whopper. most all of that land up there belongs to the people mr. ford works for and he has permission from them to cut as many trees as we need. how about it?" "by jiminy! that's just what i said, bruce," cried jiminy gordon, "and romper agrees with me." "sure i do," said romper, suddenly making his appearance from the workshop, his mended snowshoe in hand. "then it's haystack mountain. come on, fellows, get ready; half the morning will be gone before we start," said bruce, and in a twinkle a half-score of scouts were donning mackinaws and sweaters and making themselves generally secure against a temperature that hovered very close to the zero mark. and five minutes later the entire crew, armed with axes and snowshoe-shod were to be seen leaving headquarters in single file and heading up otter creek valley over three feet of december snow. woodbridge had once more honored the quarry troop. but the lads had earned the honor by suggesting that the town hold a public celebration in the square in front of the town hall on christmas eve. moreover, they had worked their hardest to gain the interest of village officials, ministers, and men and women of the community in such a celebration and it could well be said that through the efforts of the khaki-clad youngsters, woodbridge, as a community, would for the first time welcome the coming of christmas. neighbors and friends, rich and poor, young and old, would stand shoulder to shoulder this christmas eve and sing the joy and happiness of the yuletide. and for their share in the organization work the scouts had been granted the privilege of providing the town with a big community christmas tree, which was to stand in the center of the square and be decorated from bottom to tip with colored electric lights. this decorating was an affair of the quarry scouts also. they had been given the commission by mayor worthington and the councilmen to do all the electric wiring and the stringing of the bulbs. of course the lads welcomed such an important task, for they were eager to demonstrate how useful they could be. also they were pleased to display their knowledge of mechanics. so it can be easily understood why bruce and his chums were eager to get an early start the saturday morning a week before christmas. they intended to search the woods for the tallest and straightest fir tree in the township. in spite of the fact that their ears tingled with the bitter cold and the wind whistled through the valley, whirling the powdery crystals of snow into their faces, the scouts were a happy lot of youngsters as they swung their way northward. who could be other than happy with christmas but a week off? snowballs flew thick and fast among them, and now and then snowshoe races were run, too. the lads chose the valley bottom for their journey and avoided the highway which swung to the left and made a wide detour before the byroad that approached haystack mountain joined it. with this route the lads could cut down the journey at least three miles and then, too, they had fine snow for shoeing. soon they had left the open and entered the hardwood belt from which all the firs and other evergreens had long since been trimmed. snowshoeing through the woods was not so much of a lark, for the lads had no trail to follow and must needs work their way between half-covered underbrush. the snow was softer here, too, and their shoes dragged. but most of their surplus energy had been worked off by this time and they were willing to settle down to single file. each took his turn breaking a trail. on they traveled for more than an hour, always keeping the shoulder of haystack mountain, which loomed up above the tree line, their objective. about half a mile from the mountain they suddenly came clear of the woods and into the highway. here a brief conference was held as to the advisability of trying to climb the shoulder of the mountain or taking the road which led around. the last route was decided upon, because up here the thoroughfare was little traveled and was practically unbroken. indeed, they saw signs of very few sleighs having passed there since the snowstorm four days previous. away they swung, keeping an eye out on either side of the road for a christmas tree, but they did not find a fir tall enough to be used for the town's tree. soon they were around the shoulder of the mountain and traveling west. the woods were thicker here and trees more numerous. but there was a peculiar odor of burnt wood in the air, too, which all the scouts detected. "cracky! i believe your northern light was a forest fire, or--or--say, isn't that smoke rising above those trees there?" demanded nipper knapp. "right, by go lies!" shouted bruce, "but--oh, i know, now. there's a little farm in there. it's been vacant for--no, it hasn't, by jingoes! an old lady has been living there all fall. i've seen her in town. nanny haskells, they call her. cracky! come on, fellows, maybe the poor old soul has been burned to death!" the scouts were off at a gallop, stirring up the snow like a whirlwind as they loped along the road. soon they came to an unbroken lane through the woods. into this they turned and a hundred yards further on they emerged into the little farm clearing. what a sight met their eyes. in a smoldering, smoking heap of charred ruins lay what remained of an old-fashioned farmhouse and barn that had stood there for years. the fire had burned itself out, except here and there where glowing coals showed themselves. only two blackened timbers remained standing. and in this picture of devastation, looking the most lonesome and pathetic figure in the world, wandered the tiniest, most old-fashioned and motherly looking woman the lads had ever seen. she seemed all but distracted with her misery, for she went about wringing her hands and sobbing as if her heart were broken. here and there she picked her way, peering into the smoking ashes and now and then poking among them for a trinket or a keepsake that the fire had only blackened. it was a pathetic sight indeed, and the sturdy scouts all felt heavy hearted as they watched her. finally bruce left the group and went toward her. then for the first time the little woman looked up, startled at first. but when she saw the uniforms the lads wore she was no longer frightened. in truth, she seemed to welcome them as the only sympathetic human beings she had seen to whom she could tell her woes. "oh, boys, boys, it's gone, all, all gone. look--my old home all in ruins. oh, dear! oh, dear! i'm so miserable. what shall i ever do? why should this be taken from me, too? they took--they took her--her--and, oh, dear! oh, dear! what shall i do?" she cried. bruce put his hands out to comfort her as best he could and the little lady came toward him and laid her head upon his chest, sobbing as if her heart was broken. but the all-night strain on one so old had been too great and presently she became very quiet, so quiet indeed that bruce became frightened and looked down into her face. and instantly he realized that she was completely worn out. "here, fellows," he called in a business-like tone, "the poor old lady is all in. we must take her to town and get her into the hospital. come, fellows, quickly now. you, jiminy, and nipper, make a coat stretcher--cut some staffs--strong ones. the three of us will take her back to town. the rest of you fellows go after the christmas tree. but first lend us a jacket or a sweater or two to bundle the old lady in." in a twinkle the scouts were busy. staffs were cut, the stretcher constructed and old nanny made comfortable with extra coats and sweaters that the more warmly clad scouts could spare. then, as the three lads started townward, bruce shouted: "hi, bud, see that you get a whopping big tree. a thirty footer, if you can. we'll be back in an hour or so to help you. so long." crisp weather and an additional snowstorm during the week that preceded the holidays gave the youngsters of the vermont town full assurance of a white christmas. and they would have been mightily disappointed lads if such had not been the case, for what would a community christmas celebration and a town christmas tree be like without snow everywhere? it was good packing snow, too, as numerous snow fights at noon time, on the academy campus, attested. but, aside from these noon-day diversions, the quarry scouts had little time to indulge in winter sports that week. the hills about town were just right for coasting and the broad champlain valley stretched north and south to be explored on snowshoes, skis, and with sleigh-riding parties, but the scouts could not find time to enjoy these opportunities. rather, they found their fun in anticipating a good time after christmas, providing the snow lasted, for they had work to do. there was the big christmas tree to be erected and trimmed. it was a monster tree. thirty-two feet from base to tip, and as it lay there in front of the town hall waiting to be elevated into position, it commanded the admiration of the whole town. thursday afternoon, after the carpenters had finished a big platform and grandstand, the lads erected timber shears and block and tackle and set the tree into place in the very center of the pavilion, which was to accommodate the mayor, town officials, visitors, the orchestra and a host of school children who were to sing carols. "wow, it looks great," said nipper knapp, surveying the tall fir proudly, "and won't it look corking after we get it all trimmed to-morrow afternoon?" "yes, but mind you, fellows, we'll have to work like everything to-morrow. all the wiring has to be strung and all the lights put on between one o'clock in the afternoon and half past four. it'll be some job," said bud weir. "you're right it will," said bruce, "thank goodness we have everything shipshape up at headquarters to get a good start. there's more than enough wire in the lot mr. ford sent over. and i guess we must have put on about three thousand lamp sockets during the last few days, haven't we?" "two thousand and eighty-seven," corrected romper, "and it's a good thing school lets out at noon to-morrow." "it'll be a sight for sore eyes. say, fellows, i'll tell you what. let's bring old nanny haskell down and give her a seat on the visitors' stand. i guess mr. ford could arrange that for us. it might cheer the poor old soul up a little. how is she to-day? any one been up to the hospital?" "sure, romper and i were up there. she's all well and ready to leave, but the poor thing hasn't any place to go to, it seems. she's bluer than all git out, too. jiminy, but i feel sorry for her," said jiminy gordon. "well, then, by gollies! we'll see if we can't make her happy on christmas eve at least. we'll have her all bundled up and bring her down here. listening to the kids sing and all the fun and things might help her spirit a little." "fine idea, if she'll come," said bruce. "oh, we'll arrange that, all right, i think," replied romper. "i'll go up to the hospital to-morrow. perhaps mr. ford will go along, and we can talk it over with doctor bassett." "good enough; i'll go with you. and now let's go home and get some supper, fellows. it's getting dark," said bruce. and presently the scouts were tramping off through the snowy winter twilight to their respective homes. fortunately, mr. clifford allowed bruce the use of blossom, his big black trotting horse, and a light box sleigh, or otherwise the lads would have had to make a dozen trips up the steep, snow-covered otter hill to headquarters to get their coils of wire and boxes of lamps to town next day. as it was, the spirited animal had to haul three sleigh-loads of equipment to the town hall before the scouts could even start the task of decorating. as soon as the coils of wire arrived a dozen scouts began to swarm the big christmas tree, looping the wires from branch to branch and fastening them securely. other scouts followed in their wake and screwed red, white and blue, green and yellow lamps into the vacant sockets. and while all this was going on, a crew of linemen and meter-setters from the local electric light company were running an extension, or service line, from the nearest street wires, for the electric company had promised to furnish current free for the evening's celebration. the square was a very busy place for several hours that afternoon, and every one was working with a will for he realized that he must be finished before dusk came. by half past three, however, the scouts found that they could ease up a little for, with the arrival of one more load of colored lamps from headquarters, the tree would be thoroughly decorated even to the shining electrically illuminated star on top which jiminy gordon placed there with the help of an extra long ladder. "whoope-e-e! almost through. don't it look fine, eh? and here comes bruce with the last load of lamps. come on, fellows, and help unload the sleigh," shouted bud weir as jiminy finally reached the ground after he had finished wiring the big star in place. "right-o-o! and last man to the curb is no good," shouted nipper knapp, starting to run. next moment there was a scurry of scouts through the snow that covered the square and a pell-mell race to the curb where bruce drew up the panting blossom with a jingle of bells and a shower of powdery snow. "whoa there, blossom," he shouted. then to the scouts, "come on, you duffers, and get these things unloaded. i want to get the horse into the stable so i can do some work, too." the "duffers" arrived with a rush and in a twinkle the boxes were being removed from the sleigh in a manner quite violent, and this to the imminent peril of the contents. "hi, not so bloomin' reckless," shouted bruce, "don't smash 'em, whatever you do. they are the last colored lamps in town and we need 'em. and, say--listen--what's the fuss up the street? hear 'em shoutin'? gee, it's a runaway an' here it comes--no--no--it's going to turn down high street toward the railroad--an'--cracky! fellows, there's a freight pulling out of the siding! see the smoke! and there's a woman and a girl in the cutter! wow! look at those chumps up the street shoutin' and wavin' their arms. that's no way to stop a horse! those women will be killed. hi, bud, hop in here. come on, we've got to stop 'em. i'm goin' after 'em with blossom. geet_yap_ there, blossom. git, now, that's t' girl. go!" there could be no mistaking the fact that the horse and cutter coming down the street was a runaway. the big animal was almost mad with fright. his eyes bulged out until the whites showed and its nostrils were distended with fear. and, to make matters worse, there were a dozen men and boys shouting and waving their hands in a foolish effort to stop the horse. but all that they accomplished was to make the animal still more frightened. fortunately, bud's mind acted as quickly as bruce's. he came into the sleigh with a bound, but almost before he landed bruce had blossom under way. just a touch of the whip was all that was needed and the nervous trotter shot forward like a flash of lightning. a moment later she was a jet black streak flying toward the corner of high street around which the runaway cutter had just disappeared. almost in the wink of an eye blossom reached the corner and swept around it at a gallop while the sleigh careened first on one runner and then upon the other, each time on the brink of turning over and pitching its occupants into the snowbanks that lined the road. but the scouts gave no heed to this. all their attention was on the flying cutter a hundred yards ahead and upon the railroad crossing half a mile down the road. the freight train had left the siding, and at the moment the scouts rounded the corner she was chugging her way slowly toward the crossing. of course, the gates were down but this only added to the peril. the runaway horse was blind with fright. he would plunge into the gates, tear through them and probably kill himself and the women in the sleigh by dashing headlong into the freight train. "go it, bruce, go it. we _must_ save them. they'll be killed if we don't," cried the half frantic bud. and bruce, pale of face but determined, cut blossom with the whip to urge her forward. rarely was the trotter treated that way and when the cut came she leapt forward like a deer. then her racing instinct seemed to come back to her. she knew what was wanted. the horse ahead must be passed. she stretched her long legs to their utmost and the pace she set made the light sleigh pitch and rock like a ship in a gale. bruce never used the whip again. indeed, he tossed it into the road, for he must needs use two hands to govern the flying horse. the animal ahead was flying, too, and it was a question for a few moments whether the scouts could make up the distance. but blossom was at her best. faster and faster she went while town folk stood on the sidewalk and gaped in amazement at the pace she held. the hundred yard lead was cut down to fifty, now to forty, thirty-five, thirty. bruce and bud could see the look of terror on the faces of the girl and the woman in the cutter. also they could see the reason for the accident. the reins had parted and one short length dangled over the horse's side and slapped him continually on the ribs while the longer section dragged under the cutter. "we'll make it, bud, we'll make it. we've _got_ to make it. i'll drive like mad. we'll start to pass them and i'll run blossom as close as i dare and then when we get abreast of the horse you hang out upon the running-board, and jump for the shafts of the cutter. get astride the horse's back and grab those reins. get ready, bud! out on the running-board, now! hurry!" cried bruce. blossom was drawing abreast of the cutter. bud clung to the running-board and crouched for a spring. "go it, blossom," cried bruce. "good old girl, go it. go on, go on. get ready, bud--steady--ready now--_jump_!" bud reached far out and leaped. one foot struck the shafts. he threw himself forward and grasped the runaway's mane and in an instant he had swung himself astride the horse's back. for a moment all that he could do was cling to the swaying animal and when the horse felt the extra weight drop upon him he bounded forward like a stag uttering a shrill whinny of fear. for a fleeting moment the lad thought of the peril of his position. but when he recalled that the lives of two women depended upon him, he became active. reaching forward he grasped the broken line and the long one and forced the bit home into the horse's mouth. the animal snorted and plunged. bud pulled back again. the runaway reared and pawed the air, snorting and shaking its massive bead. "whoa," cried the scout, "whoa, boy, steady now," and it seemed as if the animal recognized the authority in his command for the next time the lad reined in the panic-stricken horse slowed up and presently came to a complete standstill and stood trembling like a leaf. then, when the scout looked up for the first time, there, not twenty yards away, was the railroad crossing, with the freight train rumbling slowly by. "fine work, bud, fine," cried bruce, who had pulled in on blossom the moment the scout had jumped from the sleigh. "fine work, and--and--gee! but it was a narrow escape." indeed it had been a narrow escape. bud realized it as well as bruce. and so did the woman and the little girl in the cutter, for their faces were white and they hardly had strength enough left to step from the cutter when bruce tried to assist them. "goodness me, what a day--what a day," said the woman, trembling with nervousness. and when the little girl heard this she began to cry. "oh, mother, i'm unhappy, too," she wept. "poor nanny, poor nanny, just think she's been burned to death, and all because you and father sent me to school last september. oh, mother, mother, it's terrible. and then the horse acting up like that. i--i--oh, mr.--er--mr. boy scout, do you know anything about old nanny--nanny haskell? she was my dear nurse. last fall she left our house in st. cloud because my father and mother sent me to school down in boston. she--she--oh, dear!--she said she wouldn't live in st. cloud without me, because she would be too lonesome, so she came back to her old farm in the woods here, where she hadn't been for ten years, and--now--oh, dear! oh, dear;--it burned down--and--nanny must have been burned to death." "why--why--no--no, she wasn't burned to death," said bruce, when he fully understood, "she--she--why she's over in the woodbridge hospital. that big building over there on willow street. we found her and took her there, and she wasn't a bit hurt, only sick, that's all." "what! is she alive--really--honest--nanny haskell--boy, you're sure?" cried the woman excitedly. "we--we--came over to-day to get her and bring her back to st. cloud. we wanted to tell her that genevieve had come home from boston to stay, and that we wanted her to come back with us on christmas eve and live with us for good. are you sure--?" "yes, yes, i'm sure. i helped bring her into town," said bruce. "then come, mother, come. i must see old nanny and cheer her up. the boys will take care of the horse and put him in a stable. won't you, boys?" said genevieve, excitedly. "sure--bud will fix the reins and drive him to the hotel stable. come into my sleigh and i'll take you to the hospital," said bruce. a cold wind was driving powdery flakes out of the darkness overhead when the woodbridge town folk began to gather in the square to celebrate their first community christmas. the scouts were there early, for, besides the fact that several of them had the task of taking care of the electric switches that controlled the lights on the big tree, the rest of the troop had been delegated to police the square. the ceremonies were supposed to begin at eight o'clock, but by half-past seven the big platform was filled with visitors, officials and prominent townsmen. the orchestra had arrived, too, and taken its place, and the chorus of four hundred school children stood waiting, song books in hand. the big square was literally jammed by joyous men and women and shivering, though none the less enthusiastic, youngsters. and over these thousand or more silence reigned and every eye was fastened on the tall somber looking tree. then came the signal from the mayor. the next moment the orchestra leader swung his baton and the orchestra rang forth. simultaneously the voices of the children took up the opening bars of a good old english christmas carol. this was the cue the four scouts at the switches were waiting for. one by one they jammed the tiny rubber covered connections home and in circuits of eight and twelve, the colored lamps on the great tree began to twinkle until it was a blaze of glory from the lowermost branches to the great glittering star on the top. what a wave of applause greeted this illumination. then some one in the throng took up the carol the children were singing and in a moment thousands of throats were pouring forth the happiness of yuletide. the people's enthusiasm seemed boundless. but though the lights of the great tree revealed joyous countenances everywhere, the scouts could single out three in the group on the platform that seemed far happier than the rest. in truth, tears of joy were coursing down old nanny haskell's cheeks as she sat there hugging the form of genevieve to her and listening to the rejoicing of the vast throng. and close beside them, her arm about the old nurse's shoulder, sat a very happy mother. all through the ceremonies they stayed, lingering even till the lights on the big tree began to go out in groups. and when the star on the top, after a preliminary wink, went dark too, they turned and made their way slowly across the square to where their cutter, a hired driver in the seat, stood waiting. "well, fellows," said bruce, as with a jingle of bells the sleigh started in the direction of st. cloud city, "i guess old nanny's christmas won't be such a sad one after all, thanks to bud, here." and then with boisterous shouts of "merry christmas, everybody," the scouts all started for home. the end generously made available by internet archive (http://www.archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustration. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see http://www.archive.org/details/boyscoutsinbluer cart the boy scouts in the blue ridge or marooned among the moonshiners by herbert carter author of "the boy scouts first camp fire," "the boy scouts on the trail," "the boy scouts in the maine woods," "the boy scouts through the big timber," "the boy scouts in the rockies" [illustration: "good shot, bob!" cried thad. "get another stone, quick, for he's coming after you." page . --_the boy scouts in the blue ridge._] [illustration] a. l. burt company new york copyright, by a. l. burt company the boy scouts in the blue ridge. the boy scouts in the blue ridge chapter i. the hike through the smoky range. "did anybody happen to see my knapsack around?" "why, you had it just a few minutes ago, step hen!" "i know that, bumpus; and i'd take my affidavy i laid it down on this rock." "well, don't whine so about a little thing like that, step hen; it ain't there now, and that's a fact." "somebody's gone and sneaked it on me, that's what. i'm the unluckiest feller in the whole bunch, for havin' queer things happen to him. just can't lay a single thing i've got down anywhere, but what it disappears in the most _remarkable_ way you ever heard of, and bobs up somewhere else! i must be haunted, i'm beginnin' to believe. do _you_ know anything about my knapsack, giraffe?" "never touched your old grub sack, step hen; so don't you dare accuse me of playing a trick on you. sure you didn't hang it up somewhere; i've known you to do some funny stunts that way;" and the tall boy called "giraffe" by his mates, stretched his long neck in a most ridiculous manner, as he looked all around. eight boys were on a hike through the mountains of north carolina. from the fact that they were all dressed in neat khaki uniforms it was evident that they must belong to some boy scout troop; and were off on a little excursion. this was exactly the truth; and they had come a long distance by rail before striking their present wild surroundings. their home town of cranford was located in a big northern state, and all the members of the silver fox patrol lived there; though several of them had come to that busy little town from other sections of the country. besides two of those whose conversation has been noted at the beginning of this chapter there was, first of all, thad brewster, the leader of the patrol, and when at home acting as scoutmaster in the absence of the young man who occupied that position, in order to carry out the rules and principles of the organization. thad was a bright lad, and having belonged to another troop before coming to cranford, knew considerably more than most of his fellows in the patrol. next to him, as second in command, was allan hollister, a boy who had been raised to get the bumps of experience. he had lived for a time up in the adirondacks, and also in maine. when it came down to showing how things ought to be done according to the ways of woodsmen, and not by the book, the boys always looked to allan for information. then there was a slender, rather effeminate, boy, who seemed very particular about his looks, as though he feared lest his uniform become soiled, or the shine on his shoes suffer from the dust of the mountain road. this was "smithy." of course he had another name when at home or in school--edmund maurice travers smith; but no ordinary boy could bother with such a high-flown appellation as this; and so "smithy" it became as soon as he began to circulate among the lads of cranford. next to him was a dumpy, rollicking sort of a boy, who seemed so clumsy in his actions that he was forever stumbling. he had once answered to the name of cornelius jasper hawtree; but if anybody called out "bumpus" he would smile, and answer to it. bumpus he must be then to the end of the story. and as he was musically inclined, possessing a fine tenor voice, and being able to play on "any old instrument," as he claimed it was only right that he assume the duties of bugler to the cranford troop. bumpus carried the shining bugle at his side, held by a thick crimson cord; and when he tried he could certainly draw the sweetest kind of notes from its brass throat. then there was davy jones, a fellow who had a sinuous body, and seemed to be a born athlete. davy could do all sorts of "stunts," and was never so happy as hanging by his toes from the high branch of some tree; or turning a double somersault in the air, always landing on his nimble feet, like a cat. davy had one affliction, which often gave him more or less trouble. he was liable to be seized with cramps at any time; and these doubled him up in a knot. he carried some pills given to him by the family doctor at home, and at such times one of the other boys usually forced a couple between his blue lips. but some of the fellows were beginning to have faint suspicions concerning these "cramps;" and that the artful davy always seemed to be gripped nowadays when there was a prospect of some extra heavy work at hand. the last of the eight boys was a dark-haired lad, with a face that, while handsome, was a little inclined to be along the order of the proud. robert white quail was a southern-born boy. he came from alabama, but had lived many years in this very region through which the silver fox patrol was now hiking. indeed, it had been at his personal solicitation that they had finally agreed to take their outing in climbing the famous blue ridge mountains, and tasting some of the delights of a genuine experience in the wilderness. among his companions the southern lad went by the name of "bob white;" and considering what his last name happened to be, it can be easily understood that nothing else in the wide world would have answered. of course step hen had another name, which was plainly stephen bingham. when a mite, going to school for the first time, on being asked his name by the teacher, he had spelled it as made up of two distinct words; and so step hen he was bound to be called by his comrades. giraffe also was known in family circles as conrad stedman; but if any boy in cranford was asked about such a fellow, the chances were he would shake his head, and declare that the only one he knew by the name of stedman was "giraffe," for some time he had gone as "rubberneck," but this became so common that the other stuck to him. giraffe loved eating. he was also passionately fond of making fires, so that the others called him the fire fiend. when giraffe was around no one else had the nerve to even think of starting the camp-fire; though after that had been done, he was willing they should "tote" the wood to keep it running. the day was rather warm, even for up in the mountains, and if the signs told the truth they might look for a thunder storm before a great while. as the scouts had no tents along, and were marching in very light order, they would have to depend upon their natural sagacity to carry them through any emergencies that might arise, either in connection with the weather, or the food line. but they knew they could place unlimited dependence on their leaders; and besides, as bob white had spent many years of his young life in this region, he must know considerable about its resources. they were now in what is known as the smoky range, a spur of the blue ridge mountains, which borders on tennessee. not a great many miles away was asheville, a well-known resort; but few of the society people frequenting that place had ever ventured up in these lonely localities; for they did not have the best reputation possible. among these wild peaks dwelt men who, in spite of the efforts of revenue officers, persisted in defying the law that put a ban on the making of what has always been known as "moonshine" whiskey. occasionally an arrest might be made; but there was much danger attached to this thing; and the country was so rugged, that it would take an army of united states regulars to clean out the nests of moonshiners holding forth there. it would seem as though this might be a rather strange region for the hike of a boy scout patrol; and had the parents or guardians of the boys known as much about it as those living in asheville, they might have thought twice before granting the lads permission to come here. but it had been partly on the invitation of bob white that the expedition had been planned and mapped out. he seemed to have a strange yearning to revisit the region that had been his former home; and when some one proposed that they explore some of the mysteries of the famous blue ridge, bob eagerly seconded the motion, in his warm southern way. and that was how it started. once boys get an idea in their heads, it soon gains weight, just like a rolling snowball. and now they were here, with the grim mountains all around them, silence wrapping them about, and mystery seeming to fill the very air. but healthy boys are not easily impressed or daunted by such things; and they cracked jokes and carried on as boys will do with the utmost freedom. the conversation between step hen, bumpus and giraffe having attracted the attention of the scoutmaster, he called out at this juncture: "whose knapsack is that you've got strapped on your back right now, number eight?" a shout went up as step hen, quickly turning the article in question around surveyed it blankly; but apparently both bumpus and giraffe had known of its presence all the while, though pretending ignorance. "who strapped that to my back?" demanded the owner. "i don't remember doing it, give you my word for it, fellers. mighty queer how things always happen to _me_, and nobody else. but anyhow, i'm ready to continue the march, if the rest of you are." five minutes later, and the boys were straggling along the rough road that wound in and out, as it pierced the valleys between the peaks looming up on either side. there was no attempt at keeping order on the march, and the boys, while trying to remain within sight of each other, walked along in groups or couples. giraffe and bumpus, a strange combination always, yet very good chums, were at some distance in the lead. bringing up the rear were thad and allan, examining some chart of the region, which bob white had drawn for them, and talking over what the plan of campaign should be. in the midst of this pleasant afternoon quiet there suddenly arose the piercing notes of the bugle, followed by a loud and hoarse shout; and looking up hastily, thad brewster was surprised to see bumpus wildly waving both his arms. although he was at some little distance away, and at the bottom of the decline, what he shouted came plainly to the ears of the young scoutmaster, giving him something of a thrill: "hey! come along here, you fellers; giraffe, he's got stuck in the crick, up to his knees, and he says it's quicksand!" chapter ii. seeing giraffe through. "quicksand!" shrieked step hen, who happened to be keeping company with davy jones just ahead of the two leaders of the patrol. "hey! hurry your stumps, fellers, and get there before poor giraffe is pulled under. ain't it lucky he c'n stretch his neck so far? anyhow he ought to keep his head above water." everybody was on the run by now, and as bumpus kept sounding the assembly on his silver-plated bugle, what with the shouts of the advancing khaki-clad boys, the picture was an inspiring one. when they reached the border of the little stream that crossed the mountain road, sure enough, there was the tall scout up above his knees in the water, and looking rather forlorn. "what had i ought to do, allan?" he bawled out, naturally appealing to the one whose practical experience was apt to be of more benefit to him at such a time than all the theories ever advanced. "you see, i was crossing here, and stopped right in the middle to turn around and say somethin' to bumpus. then i found that both my feet seemed like they was glued down. when i tried to lift one, the other only sank down deeper. and it came to me like a flash that i was gripped in quicksand. when i told bumpus here he squawked, and blew his horn to beat the band." "horn!" echoed bumpus, indignantly; "why can't you ever learn to say bugle. you're the only one i know of that owns to a horn; and you blow that often enough, i'll be bound." "ain't you goin' to get me out?" demanded the now alarmed giraffe, as he felt himself slowly but surely sinking deeper. "say, is that the way to treat a fellow you all have known so long? i ain't foolin', let me tell you. and if you stand there much longer, grinnin' at me, it'll be too late! you'll feel sorry when you only see the top of my head above water. i tell you there ain't no bottom to this crick. it goes clean through to china, it does, now. give us a hand, allan, thad. one scout ought to help another, you know; and i bet some of you haven't done a single good deed to-day, to let you turn your badge right-side up." among boy scouts it is considered the proper thing to invert the badge every morning, and not change its position until the owner has something worth while to his credit, even though it may only be the helping of an old man across the busy street; or the carrying of a basket for a lame woman coming from market. this was what giraffe evidently had in mind, when trying to spur his comrades on to helping him out of the mire into which he had fallen. "what can be done for him, allan?" asked the scoutmaster, turning to the other. "yes, think up something, allan; and for goodness sake be quick about it," called the one in the water. "just hear how that sucks, will you, when i work my foot up and down? and now, there, the other leg's deeper by two inches than it was. be quick about it, or you'll be sorry." "if there was a tree above his head i'd say get a rope over a limb, make a loop at the end, and drag him out that way," remarked allan. "and pull my neck longer than it is; i'm glad then there ain't no tree!" snapped the alarmed giraffe. "oh! rats, he meant we'd put the loop under your arms, silly!" called out davy. "some of you get hold of those old fence rails over there," allan went on. "we can make a mattress of them, and get over to giraffe in that way. jump, now, boys, for he is really and truly in a bad fix; and if left alone would sure go under." "hurry! hurry!" shouted giraffe, waving his long arms; "don't you hear what allan says? it's sucking like anything. p'raps it'll open up, and pull me under before you can get started. quick, boys! for the love of misery stir your stumps like true scouts!" they came running up, each bearing one of the old fence rails that had been at some time washed down the stream during a freshet. allan took these as they arrived, and began to make a species of corduroy road out to the boy who was caught fast in the grip of the quicksand. "throw yourself forward as much as you can, giraffe," he said. "never mind about whether you soil your uniform or not. you can get a new one; but you never will have another life you know. there, rest your weight on that rail, and begin to work both feet free. when you get to lift them up, we'll lend a hand, and yank you out in a jiffy. get busy now, giraffe!" and the one addressed certainly needed no second urging. he worked with a vim, and presently called out exultantly: "she's coming now, boys; i felt both feet give that time. oh! it's going to be all right, after all. bumpus, i promised you my stamp book; but i reckon i'll need it a while longer myself, so consider the thing off. please come out, and give me that lift now, allan. two of you can do it easy enough." bob white, with his usual promptness, when any one was in need of help, volunteered to assist allan. between them they succeeded in dragging the scout who was trapped in the quicksand, out of his unpleasant predicament; and while about it all of them crossed to the other side of the creek, where they were speedily joined by the balance of the patrol; though every boy took advantage of the fence rails that lay scattered through the shallow water, in order to prevent any possibility of a repetition of the disaster that had overtaken their comrade. a halt was called, to enable giraffe to wipe some of the mud from the lower portions of his uniform. and of course all sorts of talk passed back and forth, as might be expected among a parcel of lively boys out for a good time. even the one so lately in dire danger had apparently gotten well over his nervous shock, for he laughed with the rest at the ludicrous nature of the event. "say, what kind of natives do you have down here, bob white?" asked bumpus. "the same kind, i reckon, suh, that they raise in all mountain regions," came the ready reply of the sensitive southern boy. "some are pretty tough; but then again, i give you my word, suh, that there are others you can't beat for being the clear quill. but may i ask why you put that question to me, bumpus?" "sure. there was a feller perched up on that rock stickin' out above us," declared the fat boy, pointing his finger upward along the rugged and rocky face of the mountain side; "i called to him to come and help get poor old giraffe out; but he never made a move; just sat there, and grinned. he had a gun along with him, and i s'pose he was a specimen of the blue ridge mountaineer. gee! you ought to a seen the long white beard the old feller sported!" "oh!" exclaimed bob white, looking excited, a fact that aroused the keen interest of all his comrades at once. "do you know who he was?" demanded the indignant bumpus. "i'm sorry to say, suh, that i think i do," replied the southern boy, slowly. "if your description is correct, and believe me, i have no reason to doubt it, that man you saw must have been no other than phin dady!" "phew! ain't that the moonshiner we heard so much about over in asheville?" asked step hen. "the same man," answered bob white, glancing a little nervously up toward the rock indicated by his comrade, and which, jutting out from the steep face of the mountain; offered a splendid outlook for any one who wished to see who might be coming along the winding road. "well, i don't like his ways, that's all," muttered giraffe, who was still trying to make his uniform look half-way decent after its recent rough usage. "anybody with one eye could see that i was bein' sucked down like fun; and for him to just watch bumpus here, blowin' his bugle, and shoutin' for help, without offerin' to lend a hand, wasn't--well, decent, that's what. p'raps some day it'll be my turn to grin at him when he's in trouble." "but you wouldn't do it, you know that, giraffe," said thad, smiling. "you don't forget that a true scout must return good for evil. and if the time ever comes when old phin dady needs help that you can give, i'm dead sure you wouldn't hold back." giraffe grumbled some more, but the scoutmaster knew that at heart he was not an ungenerous boy, though a little inclined to hold a grudge. "what are you thinking about, bob white; you look as sober as though you didn't just like the looks of things any too much?" asked allan, turning upon the other. "that's just right, suh, i can't say that i do," replied the southern lad. "you see, i was wondering what old phin would think about us. he's the most suspicious man in the mountains, and with reason, suh. foh years, now, he's been hunted high and low by the revenue agents. they've done all sorts of things trying to capture old phin, and raid his secret still; but up to now it's never been done. he likes a revenue man like he does a rattlesnake; and i give you my word for it, suh, the next thing on his list of hates is the uniform of a soldier!" thad uplifted his eyebrows to indicate his surprise. "i think i get your meaning, bob white," he remarked, slowly and seriously. "our uniforms might give this old moonshiner the idea that in some way we must be connected with the army; perhaps a detachment of scouts sent in here to get him in a corner, and knock his old moonshine still, to flinders. is that it, bob?" "you hit the nail on the head when you say that, suh," replied the other. "when i lived down this way, i used to hear a heap about old phin; and i reckon he'd know who i was if you mentioned my name to him. that's the main reason why he just sat and laughed to see the wearer of the hated uniform now used by the united states army stuck in the quicksand. i reckon he only thought that it would mean one the less enemy for the blue ridge moonshiners to go up against." "it seems to me," spoke up smithy at this juncture, "that in justice to ourselves we ought to seek an early opportunity to secure an interview with this gentleman, and explain our position. he should know that we have no relation with the army, and that in fact the mission of a boy scout is peace, not war." "second the motion, boys!" exclaimed bumpus; "and i hope our scoutmaster will appoint a committee of three, bob white, allan, and, well, smithy here, to hunt up the said gent, and show him--hey, jump out of the way there, step hen; the whole side of the mountain's coming down on top of you! hurry! hurry!" but as the startled step hen hastened to obey, with considerable alacrity, thad brewster, looking up, saw a head withdrawn from the point whence the round stone that was rolling down the side of the steep incline must have had its start. jumping in zigzag curves from one side to another, the rock finally landed with a great crash in the mountain road not ten feet from where the scouts were huddled in a group, watching its coming with staring eyes. chapter iii. in the deserted log cabin. "keep your eyes about you!" shouted davy jones; "mebbe there's more where that stone came from!" but after the rock had settled quietly in the road, silence again fell upon the scene; a little trickle of dirt glided down the face of the descent, in the track the round rock had made; but that was all. "whew! that's a pretty hefty stone, believe me, fellers!" cried step hen. "whatever loosened it, d'ye s'pose?" asked giraffe, who had jumped several feet when he heard the alarm given; for his recent adventure in the bed of the treacherous stream seemed to have unnerved the tall boy, usually as brave as the next scout. thad stepped forward. the others saw him bend over the big rock that had just played such a queer trick, narrowly missing falling among the gathered scouts. "look at thad, would you?" exclaimed step hen. "what's he taking out of that crack in the rock?" giraffe added. "say, looks like a dirty piece of paper; and that's what it is, sure as shootin', fellers!" "a message from the enemy; p'raps he's goin' to surrender unconditionally--ain't that the way they always put it?" bumpus called out, in high glee. thad, however, after glancing down at the paper he had extracted from the crack in the rock, looked serious. evidently to him at least it was no laughing matter. "what does she say, thad?" demanded giraffe, always curious. "sure, if we've got any right to know, read it out, mr. scout master," bumpus echoed, in his merry way, his eyes shining with eagerness. the scouts clustered around thad as he once again held the scrap of soiled paper up so he could see the comparatively few words scrawled upon it with a pencil, that must have been a mere stub, since it evidently had to be frequently wet in order to make it do duty. "it's brief, and to the point, i give you my word, boys," he said. "here, let me hold it up, and every one of you can push in to read for yourselves. the writer believes in making his words correspond with their sound. with that for a tip you ought to be able to make it out." and this, then, was what they read, as they bunched together on the mountain road running through the valley of the smoky range: "beter tak my advis an skip outen this neck ov the woods. the men round heer aint gut no use fo you-uns in thes mountings. that's awl. savvy?" there was no signature to the communication. "well, that's cool, to say the least," remarked allan, after he had read the uncouth note that had come down with the rock that fell from above. "tells us to turn right around, and go back," declared giraffe, who was inclined to be peppery, and a bit rash. "now, i like the nerve of the gent. just as if we didn't have as much right to wander through these mountains and valleys as the next one." "we're minding our own business, and i don't see how anybody would want to shoo us away from here," said smithy, brushing off some imaginary specks of dust from his neat khaki uniform, always spic and span in comparison with--that of bumpus for example, showing the marks of many a tumble. thad was rather puzzled himself. he knew that it would be hardly wise for a parcel of boys to deliberately defy such a notorious character as old phin the moonshiner, whom the government had never been able to capture; but then again there was a natural reluctance in his boyish heart to retreat before making some sort of show with regard to carrying out their original design. besides, when he happened to glance toward bob white, and saw how cruelly disappointed the southern boy looked, thad immediately changed his mind. still, he wanted to hear what his comrades thought about it; since they had long gone by the wise principle that majority rules. "shall we take this kind advice, and go back, boys?" he asked. a chorus of eager dissenting voices greeted his words. "not for joseph, not if he knows it!" giraffe chortled. "we never turn back, after once we've placed our hand to the plow," remarked the pompous smithy; and his sentiment was cheered to the echo. "take a vote on it, thad," advised the sagacious allan, knowing that if trouble came along after they had decided to continue the advance, it would be just as well to point to the fact that by an _overwhelming majority_ the patrol had decided upon this rash course. every fellow held up his hand when thad put the question as to whether they should continue the mountain hike. and the sad look vanished from the dark face of bob white, as dew does before the morning sun. so the march was immediately resumed, and nothing happened to disturb their peace of mind or body. no more rocks came tumbling down the face of the mountain; and as the afternoon advanced they found themselves getting deeper and deeper into the heart of the uplifts. "wow! but this is a lonesome place, all right," remarked step hen, looking up at the lofty ridges flanking their course. "i give you my word for it i'd hate to be caught out nights alone in this gay neighborhood. if ever there was a spooky den, this is it, right here. glad to have company; such as it is, fellers." no one took any notice of the pretended slur. the fact was, the scouts no longer straggled along the road as before that incident of the falling rock. they seemed to feel a good deal like step hen expressed it, that under the circumstances it was a good thing to have company. in union there was strength; and eight boys can do a great deal toward buoying up one another's drooping courage. "and say, looks more like a storm comin' waltzin' along than ever before," bumpus observed, as he nodded his head toward the heavens, which were certainly looking pretty black about that time. "thought i heard a grumble, like thunder away off in the distance; might a been that same old phin dady speakin' his mind some more, though," remarked giraffe. "only a little further, suh, and we'll come to an old abandoned log cabin, unless my calculations are wrong; which ought to serve us for a shelter to-night," was the cheering news from bob white, who was supposed to know this country like a book. "bully for the log cabin!" ejaculated bumpus, who, being heavy in build, could not stand a long hike as well as some other fellows, the tall giraffe, for instance, whose long legs seemed just made for covering ground rapidly. ten minutes later davy jones, who had pushed to the van, gave a shout. "there's your deserted log cabin!" he remarked, pointing. "am i correct, bob?" "you surely are, suh," replied the southerner. "and as i fail to see smoke coming from the chimney at the back, it looks to me as though nobody had got ahead of us there. if the roof only holds, we can laugh at the rain, believe me." when the scouts hurried up to the cabin, for there was now no longer any doubt about the storm being close at hand, since lightning flashed and the grumble of thunder had changed into a booming that grew louder with every peal, they found to their great satisfaction that it seemed in a fair state of preservation, despite the fact that it must have been left to the sport of the elements for many a long year. "nothing wrong with this, boys," announced the scoutmaster, as they pushed inside the log house, and looked around. "and if we know half as much as we think we do, there'll be a pile of wood lying here before that rain drops down on us. just remember that we've got a whole night ahead." "hurrah! that's the ticket! get busy everybody. we don't belong to the beaver patrol, but we can work just as well as if we did. whoop her up, fellers!" bumpus was as good as his words. dropping his haversack and staff in a corner, he pushed out of the door. although the evening was being ushered in sooner than might have been expected, owing to the swoop of the storm, there was still plenty of light to see where dry wood was to be picked up for the effort. and immediately every one of the eight scouts was working furiously to bring in a good supply. no doubt the rattle of the thunder caused the boys to hurry things; for by the time the first drops began to fall they had secured as much as they expected to use. and already there was giraffe on his knees in front of the big fireplace that lay at the foot of the wide-throated chimney, whittling shavings with which to start a cheery blaze. this had just started into life when the rattle of a horse's hoofs came to the ears of the boys who had clustered at the door to witness the breaking of the summer storm. "hey! looks like another pilgrim overtaken by the gale," said davy jones, as a man on horseback came riding furiously along the wretched road, heading straight for the old cabin; as though he knew of its presence, and might indeed have found its shelter acceptable on other occasions. he was evidently greatly astonished to find the place already occupied by a bevy of boys dressed in khaki uniforms. at first thad thought he could see an expression akin to fear upon the thin face of the man, who seemed to be something above the average mountaineer; possibly the keeper of a country store among the mountains; or it might be a doctor; a lawyer, or a county surveyor, for he had rather a professional air about him. allan had immediately assured him that they were only seeking temporary shelter in the old cabin, and that he would be quite welcome to share it with them until the storm blew over, or as long as he wished to stay. as the man, leaving his horse tied outside to take the rain as it came, pushed inside the cabin, thad saw bob white suddenly observe him with kindling eyes. then to his further surprise he noticed that the southern boy drew the rim of his campaign hat further down over his eyes, as though to keep his face from being recognized by the newcomer. another minute, and bob had drawn the young scoutmaster aside, to whisper in his ear a few words that aroused thad's curiosity to the utmost. "that is reuben sparks, the guardian of my little cousin bertha, a cruel man, who hates our whole family. he must not recognize me, or it might spoil one of my main objects in coming down here into the blue ridge valleys. warn the boys when you can, please thad, not to mention me only as bob white. oh! i wonder if this meeting is only an accident; or was guided by the hand of fate?" chapter iv. after the storm. thad remembered that on several other occasions the southern boy had mentioned the name of his little cousin, and always with a certain tender inflection to the soft voice that stamped him for one who had been born below the dixie line. and while bob white had not seen fit to take his friend into his confidence it had always been plain to thad that the other must have cherished a deep affection for the said bertha; perhaps, since he had no sister of his own, she may have been as dear to him as one, in those times when he lived among the blue ridge mountains. before now thad had strongly suspected that bob had some other object in coaxing his comrades to make the pilgrimage to the land of the sky, besides the desire to show them its wonders. and now his own words proved it. more than that, it seemed to have some strange connection with this same little cousin, bertha; and naturally with her legally appointed guardian, reuben sparks. thad, first of all, managed to pass the word around in a whisper, just as bob wished it done. the boys understood that there was a reason back of the request, and expected that their comrade would take them into his confidence later on. besides, there had really never been the slightest chance that any one of them would breathe that name of quail in connection with bob; indeed, most of them would have had to stop and think, if suddenly asked what his real name was, so seldom did they hear it mentioned. the man on horseback was chatting with allan and several others. he did not hesitate to ask questions, and was soon put in possession of the fact that they were merely the members of a boy scout patrol, making a strenuous hike through the big smoky spur of the blue ridge. thad saw that he eyed them queerly many times, as though rather doubtful whether they were giving him a straight story; but the coming of the storm soon held the attention of them all. just as they had expected, it was the real thing in the way of a summer storm. the lightning flashed in a way that was not only dazzling but "fearsome" as smithy expressed it, in his elegant way. and as for the crashes of thunder that followed each and every electric current, they deafened the ears of the scouts. a deluge of rain fell in a short time, and the rush of water near by told that the little stream, which they had struck many times during the afternoon, had all of a sudden become a raging torrent. nobody was sorry when finally the racket began to subside, and the rain stopped as suddenly as it had started. "she's done for," remarked bumpus, in a relieved tone, as though he had been half suspecting that the stream might rise in its might, and sweep cabin, scouts and all down through the valley. the resident of the region who had also sought shelter in the friendly cabin by the wayside, looked out first, to assure himself that his horse had come through the storm safely. then he called out good-bye, and mounting, rode away. "good riddance to bad rubbish, i take it," declared giraffe. "whenever the fire flashed up that gent would look around the queerest way ever, as though he kind of thought we might be revenue agents playing a fine game on his friends, the moonshiners." "be careful what you say, giraffe," advised the more cautious thad. "when you're in the enemy's country you want to use soft words. besides, you're only guessing when you say that. he was naturally curious about us. some people would think a bunch of boys stark crazy, to try and hike through such wild country as this, when we could have taken to the good roads up in new york state, had orchards all along the way, and good-natured farmers galore to buy milk and eggs from when we got hungry." "i hope, suh, you won't be sorry you came down this aways," bob white spoke up. "i take it as a great compliment, believe me, that you-all would care to keep me company when i said i felt that i just had to come back here on a visit, to see what changes there were, and do a little private business in the bargain. i'm aware of the fact that there isn't anything much worth seeing here, suh; except the untamed wilderness; but they's always plenty of excitement going around, i understand." "i should guess yes," broke out step hen, "with that same old phin hangin' 'round with his eye on the watch for revenues. but see here, bob, don't you think you owe us a little explanation about this racket--meaning your relations with the gent who is guardian to your sweet little cousin bertha?" "so say we all," chorused davy jones, giraffe and bumpus, solemnly, as they gathered around the southern boy. bob white looked at their eager faces for a minute before speaking. there was something akin to real affection to be seen there as he turned his eyes from one to another of his mates. the boy from dixie had not been in the habit of making friends easily in earlier days; but when he landed in cranford he had soon been captivated by the sincere companionship of thad brewster; and when he joined the new patrol of the scouts he quickly learned to appreciate the many good qualities that marked the other members. "yes, it's only fair, boys," he began, slowly yet with an evident determination to take them at least part way into his confidence; "that you should know just why i didn't want any of you to tell the name of the town we hailed from, when that man was in here. he would have recognized it as my new home, and might have suspected that i brought you all down here for a purpose." "which you did," interrupted bumpus; "to admire the scenery; rough it awhile in the land of the sky; and show us something of your native country. if there was anything more, we didn't know it, bob white. but we're comrades, one and all; and if we c'n do anything to help you tide over some trouble, why, you've just got to tell now." "that is fine of you, bumpus, and i thank you from the bottom of my heart," continued the other, strangely moved. "but let me tell you a few things first before you make such a rash promise, which i am not going to hold you to, suh. the man who was in this cabin, reuben sparks, is said to be the richest and meanest in these parts. it has been hinted more than a few times that he has always been thick with old phin dady. but no matter how he came by his money, he is something of a miser." "no relation of yours, i hope, then, bob?" asked step hen. "none whatever, suh," replied the other, proudly. "the quails would never have descended to the common methods that man has practiced in order to make money. but somehow he managed to gain an influence over my uncle robert, after whom i was named, as you may guess, suh. when the father of cousin bertha died, in his will he left the child solely in the charge of reuben sparks, until she came of age; and he was also given control of her little fortune." the boy ground his teeth hard together, showing how even the recollection of this moved him. but recovering his customary calmness he continued: "she was the prettiest little thing you ever saw, suh, take my word foh it. and no boy ever thought more of his pet sister than i did of my little cousin. my father thought it a shame, and tried to get possession of her; but this reuben sparks had the law on his side, and all our efforts failed. after that he would never even let me see her, so great was his hatred for our family. "one way or another we managed to exchange word, and when our folks went up nawth to look after the mills my father had purchased before his death, i had just two letters from bertha before something happened, and they stopped coming. of course i supposed that her guardian had found out about it, and fixed matters so no letter of mine--and i sent seven before owning up beaten in the game--could reach her. "i just stood it till i couldn't sleep nights, thinking that perhaps she was being made unhappy by that cruel man. and so i made up my mind i'd come down here again, and find out the truth, if i had to steal into his house, and see bertha without his knowing it. i wanted to tell you this before, believe me, suh," addressing thad in particular, as the head of the patrol; while his fine eyes filled up on account of his emotion; "but somehow i couldn't bring myself to do it. and now, after hearing my story briefly, if you-all feel that it would be asking too much of my comrades to expect to have their backing in my wildcat scheme, please don't hesitate to say so, suh. i'll think just as well of you in either case." thad reached out, and caught the quivering hand of the southern boy in his own. "why, bob," he said, earnestly, "i think i voice the sentiments of every fellow in the patrol when i say most emphatically that we're going to stand by you through thick and thin. i'm sure you won't do anything but what is right, and what is bound to reflect credit on you as a true scout. how about that, fellows?" "move we make it unanimous!" cried bumpus, instantly. "ay, ay! that's the ticket," exclaimed others. "you hear what they say, bob white?" remarked thad, warmly. "we'll back our comrade up, even to kidnapping the cruel guardian, and rescuing the pretty little cousin!" smithy declared with unusual vim, for him. "oh!" said bob with a smile, as he looked from one flushed face to another. "of course i don't imagine it'll ever go that far, boys; but i thank you for this expression of your friendship. i will never forget it, suh, never while i live. and i only hope that some day in the future i may be able to repay the kindness to one and to all." "then i take it that this reuben sparks does not live a great way beyond where we happen to be camped right now?" remarked allan. "i expected to show you the place sometime to-morrow, suh. it is worth seeing, upon my word," replied bob. "now i know that there's a whole lot of truth in that old saying about the devil taking care of his own," giraffe mentioned. "the rest of you heard reuben say he had been tempted to stop under that big tree we passed on the way here; but on second thoughts decided to come along to the cabin. when that one terrible crack came he got as white as a sheet, and told me he believed that that very tree must have been struck. where would reuben have been if he'd stayed there? kind of scattered around the landscape, i guess." thad had just started to say that it was time they thought about getting some supper, when he was interrupted in a most disagreeable manner. indeed, for the moment all idea of ever wanting to eat again in this world vanished from his mind; for something occurred that caused the scouts to rush toward the end of the cabin where the chimney stood, and catch hold of each other in sudden terror and dismay. chapter v. the jones boy comes to grief at last. there was a rumbling sound, not unlike the roar of a heavy freight train coming down the grade of a mountain. all of the scouts plainly felt the cabin quiver as though in the throes of an earthquake. then succeeded a crash, as the further end was knocked out. for a moment thad really feared they were done for, and his very heart seemed to stand still with dread. then, as the awful sounds died away, save for the patter of small stuff on the cabin roof, he breathed naturally again. whatever it was that had happened, no one had been hurt; and at least they could find consolation in this. "it's an earthquake!" exclaimed bumpus, being the very first to recover the use of his voice. "a landslide, you mean!" echoed giraffe, contrary minded. "thad, you say?" asked step hen; just as though the leader could determine the nature of the calamity better than any one else. "i think giraffe struck it about right," thad answered. "you mean part of the hillside caved away?" further questioned bumpus. "must have been the whole mountain top, by the racket it kicked up," davy jones grumbled; "say, my heart turned upside down; and i'll have to stand on my head to get it to working again the right way." "and look at what it did to our snug old cabin; tore the whole end off!" observed step hen, ruefully. "now, if it happened to be a cold night, why, we'd just be freezing to death, that's what. anybody seen my cap around; my hair stood up on end with the scare, and i must have dropped it? thank you, allan, for picking it up. i do have the worst luck about losing my things you ever saw." "seems to me," remarked allan, soberly, "that instead of complaining the way you fellows are doing, we ought to be mighty thankful it wasn't any worse." "yes, that's what i was thinking," smithy added, as he let go allan's arm, which he must have unconsciously gripped in his sudden fright; "what if we had run to that end of the cabin, things would look somewhat different right now." "ugh! guess that's right," giraffe admitted; "and for one i ain't goin' to make any more complaint. but what under the sun was it hit us?" "a big rock must have dropped down from the side of the mountain, and tore out the end of the old cabin," thad explained. "it came on this night of all nights, just when we happened to be camped here. and the cabin has stood unharmed for as much as thirty years, bob white says." "i call that queer, now," said bumpus. "it's more than that, bumpus," smithy remarked, in his most mysterious manner; "i'd call it highly significant, if you asked my opinion." "wow! listen to that, would you?" exclaimed step hen, shuddering again. "he means that the rock was smashed down by somebody who wanted to chase us out of this region. and that must be our old friend, phin dady, the moonshiner!" thad bent down, and proceeded to light a handy little lantern which one of the boys had carried for emergencies. "i'm going to take a look out, and see what struck us," he remarked. "be careful, thad," warned allan; "another rock might follow the first." "and if you hear the least suspicious sound, jump for all that's out," added bumpus, ready to admire the nerve of one who could face danger so readily, even though not capable of imitating thad's example himself. "oh! i reckon there's little chance of anything like that happening," the other sent back, with a little laugh, as though he wanted to cheer his chums up; "you know, they say lightning never strikes in the same place twice. it's taken thirty years for a rock to hit this cabin, though plenty must have slid down the side of the mountain in that time. be back in a jiffy, boys." with that he stepped out of the door, which had been burst open when the log structure received such a terrific jolt. the other boys clustered there by the revived fire, exchanging views, and waiting for the return of those who had gone outside; for bob white had silently followed thad, as though he felt that since it was through his invitation that the scouts were placed in this predicament, he ought to do everything in his power to ease the strain. when they entered again in less than ten minutes, of course a bombardment of eager questions saluted them. "slow up, fellows," thad said, laughingly. "if i tried to answer you all, i'd be apt to get my tongue twisted some, and that's a fact. yes, it _was_ a rock that did the damage, just as we guessed. it rolled down from somewhere above; but we could only guess at that, it's so dark out there. and after taking a look at the size of the same, bob and myself made up our minds we had reason to be mighty thankful that it only touched the end of the cabin, instead of hitting it square in the center." "but whoever started it rolling?" demanded bumpus; and it was evident from the way the others waited to hear what thad would say to this, that they laid great stress on the answer. "well," returned the other, soberly, "of course we couldn't make dead certain, but after seeing the heft of that rock we believed that it was never started by any human hands. the rain and storm must have undermined it." bumpus heaved a big sigh of relief. "well," said he, "i'm glad of that. it's bad enough to think you're bein' bombarded by rocks that just take a silly notion to drop when we come along; but it'd be a heap sight worse if the men of the big smokies were throwing such pebbles at us, haphazard. whew! i'm hungry, fellers; who says grub?" that was just like a boy, to remember his natural appetite right on the heels of the greatest fright of his whole life. and as the others admitted to feeling somewhat the same way, there ensued a bustle to see how soon supper could be gotten ready. the members of the silver fox patrol were no longer greenhorns, though one or two of them gave evidence that they had not yet graduated from the tenderfoot class. they had learned a great deal about the things that are connected with a camp life, because they had spent some time under canvas on lake omega, which lay not many miles from their home town. and then again, thad had belonged to a troop of scouts before coming to cranford; while, as for allan, he had been through the mill so often up in maine and elsewhere, that he was, as bumpus declared, a "walking edition of what to do, and what not to do when in the woods." it is true that on this big hike through the mountains they were compelled to travel very light, and would miss many of the things that had added greatly to their comfort on that other occasion. but then it was their desire to learn how to rough it, taking the knocks with the good things. by this time some of the lads were beginning to believe that they would rub up against plenty of the "knocks" all right; especially if things kept on as they had commenced since striking this wonderful "land of the sky." the supper put them in something like their customary good humor. indeed, as they sat around the fire afterwards, bumpus was induced to sing several of their school songs, so that the whole of them might join in the rollicking chorus. strange sounds indeed to well up out of that valley, so lately the theater of a war between the elements, as lightning and rain vied with each other to produce a panic in the breasts of these same boys who now sang and joked as though they had not a care in the world. only bob white remained very quiet. thad often glanced toward the southern lad, with sympathy in his look. he could easily understand that, with their arrival in this mountainous region, where the other had spent many of his earlier years, old memories must be revived, some pleasant, and possibly others of a disagreeable nature. finally they agreed that it would be wise to get some sleep, as another day lay before them. and accordingly, in the customary fashion, the bugler sounded "taps," and each scout tried to find a soft board, upon which he might rest his weary body during the hours that must elapse before dawn arrived. a watch was kept up, one fellow taking an hour at a time, and then arousing the next on the list; so that at no time was the cabin unguarded while the night slowly passed. but nothing happened to disturb the scouts; and as morning came at last they began to get up and stretch, rubbing their limbs as though the hard bed had not been the nicest thing possible. but there was little grumbling. they had learned to take things as they came; which is one of the finest results of boy scout experience. the philosophy of the woods teaches that in the very start--try for the best results; but after you have done your best, accept the situation with cheerfulness. again the notes of the bugle sounded the "assembly," as breakfast was declared ready; and half an hour later they left their shelter of the night. "good-bye old cabin!" sang out bumpus, waving his fat hand back toward the wrecked log house; "you treated us pretty decent after all, and we'll never forget you. long may you wave, and offer shelter to other pilgrims storm chased!" as the sun climbed above the rim of the encircling mountains the spirits of the boys mounted in proportion. davy jones was up to his usual pranks, being hard to control. they would miss him for a short time, only to hear a whoop; and looking up, discover the acrobatic boy hanging by his knees, or it might be his toes, from the limb of a tree, thirty feet or more above the ground. thad knew from experience that it was next to impossible to restrain the jones boy; he must have his frolic out; and so they only laughed at his antics, and wondered what next the daring davy would attempt. ten minutes later he was seen standing on his head on the edge of what appeared to be a deep ravine or gulch, and kicking his heels in the air. all sorts of dire things had always been predicted as going to overtake davy sooner or later, unless he gave up these venturesome pranks; and this time it actually looked as though they were about to be fulfilled. for even as the seven other scouts were watching his antics, the earth at the edge of the gully appeared to suddenly give way. davy vanished from their view, the last thing they saw of him being his up tilted heels, waving what seemed to be a frantic farewell. with cries of alarm the scouts rushed forward, fearful as to what they would see. chapter vi. more signs of trouble ahead. "oh! did you see him kick his heels at us as he went down?" gasped bumpus, as they hurried forward to the spot where the venturesome scout had vanished so forlornly; "i'll never forget it, never! just like the poor old chap wanted to say 'good-bye boys!'" bumpus was too honest and warm hearted a fellow to say this with any intention of being hilarious. he sincerely felt every word of it. of course the long-legged giraffe had to be the first to arrive on the scene of the late tragedy. thad felt constrained to call out to him in warning. "be careful there, giraffe, or else there may be another of us down in that pocket. look out for your footing, i tell you!" the other had dropped flat on his chest. he was seen to stretch his neck in the endeavor to get the best results with a minimum of risk; and they did say that when giraffe really and truly did his prettiest in this respect he could cover more territory than any one else ever seen. "oh! is he smashed flatter'n a pancake?" asked step hen, as he drew near, with his melancholy face looking longer than usual; and the whites of his eyes showing strongly, as they always did when he was frightened. giraffe twisted his head around with the utmost ease; indeed, from the length of his neck it looked as though he might continue the turning movement until he had actually made a complete revolution. and when thad caught sight of the grin on his face he felt immediately relieved; for surely giraffe loving fun as much as he did, would not allow this smirk to decorate his angular countenance unless there seemed little danger. another minute, and all of them were ranged there along the edge of the gully, staring down at davy jones. it would seem that the other had been agile enough to clutch hold of a small tree that jutted out from the steep slope. he was hanging to it now, and straining the best he knew how to fling his legs upward, so as to relieve the situation, and the terrific pull on his arms. he looked upward toward the row of faces peeping over the edge above; and there was a humorous grin on his face. he knew what his comrades were doubtless thinking about "the pitcher that went once too often to the well;" and that their natural alarm having passed, they would see only the humorous side of the affair. again did davy strain. there was something connected with the way he was hanging there that seemed to prevent him from accomplishing the result he wanted to attain. for the first time they could remember the boys saw that the gymnast and acrobat of the troop had certainly met his match. left to himself he would surely have had to invent some other method for drawing himself up on to the slender horizontal trunk of the little tree; or else let go, and drop. as it was a matter of some twenty feet or so to the bottom of the gully; and the chances were that he might receive any number of bad scratches while making the transit, davy of course would be averse to trying this plan. "guess you'll have to lend me a hand this time, boys," he called out, when once more he failed to make connection between his squirming legs and the body of the tree. "who'll go down, and yank him on to that tree?" asked bumpus; knowing full well at the same time that no one could have the nerve to ask a fellow of his heft, when there were so many others better fitted for the task. "don't all speak at once!" advised the hanging davy. somehow all eyes were turned toward giraffe. as the most agile of the lot, he might be expected to volunteer; and yet with not a particle of footing between the top of the bank and that tree, some ten feet down, the job was hardly one that might appeal to any scout, however nimble. "oh! you needn't look at me that way," he complained; "because i'm long, and active, you just think i c'n stretch that far; but it's a mistake. but if somebody _has_ to try and make the riffle, i s'pose it'll be me." he started to take off his knapsack as he said this, when thad stopped him. "wait, giraffe," said the patrol leader, quietly; "perhaps, after all, nobody has to go down after davy. you seem to forget, all of you, that we've got a stout rope along with us. what's the need of carrying such a thing, if it can't help us out in a pinch?" "bully! sure we've got a rope, and a dandy one at that!" cried bumpus, growing so excited that he came near falling over the edge, and had to clutch hold of the nearest scout to steady himself. "if you'd gone that time, bumpus, think what a splash you'd have made down there. because davy got hold of a tree don't think you could do the same. it'll have to be a whopping big one that could bear up under _your_ weight, all right," said step hen, who chanced to be the one whom the fat boy had caught hold of in his sudden alarm. it turned out that bob white was carrying the rope. he had it wound around his body in a way allan had shown him, so that it did not interfere with his movements, and was not coming loose all the time. quickly then was it unwound. in order to hasten this, the boys even began to turn bob around like a teetotum, until he said he was dizzy. "lucky it's got a loop handy at the end," remarked allan, as he took the rope, and sought a position directly above the hanging scout. "how is it, davy?" he asked, while lowering the noose. "if you mean how much longer i could stand it, i'd say not a big lot," replied the one addressed. "you see, the old tree cuts my hands just fierce; and i've been twisting around here so long now that i'm gettin' tired. how're you goin' to fix it, allan? might toss the loop over my head; but i'm afraid my neck wouldn't hold out. if it was giraffe now--" "here, you just let up on giraffe, and pay attention to what allan's goin' to tell you; hear?" called out the party mentioned. "do you think you could hold on with one arm, and get the other through the loop?" continued the maine boy. "of course, if you can't, why, i might swing it around, and you could somehow stick your feet through; when we'd drag the loop up under your arms. how about that, davy?" but davy made a test, and declared that one hand would hold him for a brief time. so, in this way, the rope was finally placed under both arms, and tightened. "now, get hold here, fellows, and give a pull!" said allan; "hold on, not so rough about it, giraffe, or you'll rub his face against the rocks and make it worse than if he'd let go, and dropped down. here he comes, boys!" "heave ho!" sang out the scouts, and foot by foot they drew the unlucky acrobat once more to the surface. "got off pretty slick that time, eh, davy?" demanded step hen, after the other had been landed, and bob white was coiling the rope around himself again. "never knew me to miss doin' that, did you, step hen?" queried the other; and from the flippant tone in which he said this it was plainly evident that the lesson had been lost on him; and that davy would be doing his customary stunts right along. the hike was presently resumed, and the little adventure reckoned a thing of the past. shortly afterwards they came suddenly on a man, with an old vehicle, and a slab-sided horse that looked half starved. the ramshackle wagon bed was covered to about the depth of three feet with poor looking straw, that seemed to have done duty a long time. as for the man himself, he was a typical mountaineer, thin and scrawny, with a small, weasened face, and keen, snapping eyes. bob white instantly pulled his hat down over his face as he saw the man. thad noticed that the other looked alarmed at sight of these eight khaki-clad boys strung out along the mountain road. indeed, he had the appearance of a man who would have turned and fled, only that he was afraid to do so after finding himself face to face with what looked like a squad of united states regulars, or at the least, north carolina militia, on the hike. he returned the greetings of the boys with sundry nods of his head, and urged his old nag along by several whacks from the hickory rod he held in his hand in lieu of a whip. so ramshackle vehicle and scared driver vanished around the bend which had concealed the scouts from his view until it was too late to run. "looked like he'd seen a ghost!" suggested step hen, with a chuckle. "well, you can't blame him, if he saw _you_ roll your eyes, and make that face of yours look like thirty cents," remarked bumpus, cuttingly. "he had mountain dew hidden under that straw," remarked bob white; "i remember the old fellow right well, and i'm glad he was that frightened he didn't think to take at look at me. nate busby is his name. he always was connected with old phin, and the others who make the moonshine stuff further up in the hills. right now, you can believe me, suh, he's on his way with that load, to hide it where somebody from town can find it." "he don't know what to make of us, seems like?" suggested giraffe. "that is the truth," added thad. "i thought his eyes would drop out, he stared so hard. seemed to me as if he actually expected some of us to surround him, and examine his load. how he did whip that old nag of his. the beast kicked up his heels, and galloped, perhaps for the first time in years." all of them laughed as they went on, talking by the way. boys can discover a ludicrous side to almost anything. good health, absence of worry, and plenty of food are about all they require; and the world looks its brightest. sometimes, when thad glanced toward the southern boy, he wondered whether bob had taken them wholly into his confidence on the last evening when he told them about his life amid the mountains and valleys of the blue ridge range. it struck him that bob frowned too often to indicate a clear conscience. "there's something else on his mind, and that's certain," thad was saying to himself. "he keeps looking in my direction every little while, and i wouldn't be surprised if he came over pretty soon to tell me something he's been keeping back. but it don't matter; we'll stand behind bob all the time. he's a fine fellow, as true as gold; and one scout should always help another in trouble." his reflections were interrupted by bumpus, who edged over nearer the patrol leader to impart the information that, happening to look back, he had discovered some one thrusting his head out from behind a rock, as though he might be following in their wake! chapter vii. the message of the split stick. a temporary halt had been called, and the scouts were consulting as to what this new development might mean. "sure you saw a man, are you, bumpus?" asked giraffe, as though he had an idea the stout boy might have deceived himself. "twa'n't a rolling stone, now, i take it? or it couldn't have been a frisky little 'coon' or 'possum,' i suppose?" "well, what d'ye think i've got eyes for, if i don't know a biped when i see one?" retorted bumpus, indignantly. "he was as plain as anything; and makin' from one pile of rocks to another. you go with me back there, and i'll show you, giraffe. then you'll believe me when i say a thing." the two boys made a move as if to carry out this project, only the scoutmaster put a stop to it. "don't think of doing that, fellows," thad said, quickly. "these mountaineers are a thin-skinned lot as far as i've been able to learn; and they won't stand for any poking of your nose into their business. besides, if it was a man, the chances are he would be armed, and you might bring a hornet's nest down about our ears." "oh! he did have a gun, all right," remarked bumpus, carelessly. "you didn't mention that before," broke in step hen, with an intaking of breath that betrayed excitement. "'cause nobody asked me; and every one wanted to have something to say," retorted the other. "it was a gun, and an _awful_ wicked looking one too, about as long as my staff, seemed to me." "could it have been old phin?" suggested allan. "how about that, bumpus; was he an old man with a gray beard?" asked thad. "nixey; that is i don't know how old he might a been; but i'm dead sure he didn't have any beard at all, just a smooth face. but he was a regular mountaineer, all right, thad, with the dingy old faded brown homespun clothes, the slouch hat, and the ragged pants that never came near his brogans. he saw me lookin' at him, for he put on a little spurt, and dodged behind that pile of rocks, where like as not he's squattin' right now, waitin' to see what we're agoin' to do about it, and ready to speak to us with that trusty weapon if we try to rush his fort." "well, we're going to do nothing of the kind, just remember that," said thad, resolutely. "it's only natural that the men of these mountains should feel a whole lot of curiosity about us. i suppose now they never heard of the boy scouts; and these uniforms make them think we're connected with the army. now, we don't want to stir them up any more than we can help. they're an ugly lot, bob here says, if you rub the fur the wrong way. we didn't come down here to bother these moonshiners one whit; and if they'll only let us alone, we want to keep our hands off their affairs. let the fellow dodge after us if he wants to; he'll find that we're only a bunch of happy-go-lucky boys, off for a holiday." "pity we can't meet up with that same old phin, and tell him as much," smithy went on to say. "perhaps it might be managed easy enough," allan observed, and all of them immediately turned toward him, feeling that he had some scheme to communicate. "open up, and tell us what it is, allan," urged the impatient bumpus. "yes, don't keep us guessing any more than you can help," added step hen. "we've sure got enough to worry us, what with the troubles of giraffe getting stuck in that quicksand; and davy here, falling over every old precipice he can find, without you making us puzzle out a problem. how could it be done, allan?" "why, we'll send old phin a letter," replied the other, calmly. "show me your messenger, then!" demanded bumpus. allan picked up a stick, and deliberately split one end so that he could open it up. this he thrust into a crevice in the rocks close to the wretched road, and in such a position that it was certain to meet the eye of the tracker when he again started to follow them. "now, i'll write a few lines, and leave it here, addressed to phin dady," he went on. "i'll print the words in capitals, in the hopes that the old mountaineer may be able to read as much as that. if he can't, then some other of the clan may; and if all else fails, they'll have some boy or girl make it out. how's that, thad?" "splendid, i should say," replied the scoutmaster, smiling. "here, bumpus, turn around, and bend over." "what you goin' to do to me?" demanded the short scout, suspiciously, as he hesitated before complying. "is that the way you obey orders?" scoffed giraffe. "a true scout should never ask questions. s'pose them dragoons at the battle of the six hundred had begun to want to know the whys and wherefores of everything, d'ye think we'd ever had any chance to declaim that stirring poem? shame on you, bumpus, take a brace, and obey blindly." "oh! i only want the use of your broad and steady back for a writing desk, so allan can get his message written," thad at this interesting juncture remarked, easing the strain, and dissipating all the fat boy's suspicions. when allan had made out to complete his "message" he read it aloud, and also let them all have a look at it. just as he had said he would do, he had written it in the most primitive way possible, by making capitals of each letter. this was what he had done: "phin dady--we are a patrol of boy scouts, come down from the north to see the carolina mountains. we do not mean you, or any one, harm; but want to be friends. we carry no arms but a single shotgun." "that ought to answer the purpose," remarked thad, approvingly. "i didn't want to say too much, you see," observed the author of the message, as he fastened it in the crotch of the riven stick, where it must attract the attention of any one passing. "first, i had a notion to mention bob's name, as a former resident; and then i remembered that he said he didn't want it known he'd come back. so i left that out." "and i'm glad you did," said the one in question, hastily; "it would have done no good, suh, believe me; and might have brought us into much trouble." again thad saw him send that expressive glance his way; and his suspicions concerning bob having another secret which he had not as yet told, received further confirmation. "this, you know, fellows," remarked allan, "is the way the indians communicated in the old days; only instead of writing it out as we do, they used to make signs that stood for men, camp-fires, rivers, woods, animals, trails and such things. you remember, thad here gave us some talk about that awhile back. now, are we going on again, since we've left our wonderful message for old phin?" "yes, and perhaps we'd better keep somewhat closer together than we've been doing up to now," the scoutmaster suggested. "how'd it do for giraffe here to stay behind, and watch to see if that feller back of the rock pile gets the letter?" bumpus proposed. "after we turned that bend ahead he could drop down, and creep back. then, after he'd seen all he wanted, why it wouldn't be any great shake for such a long-legged feller to overtake the rest of the bunch." but giraffe evidently did not like the idea of being left all by himself after that fashion. he looked worried as he waited to see what thad would say; and was considerably relieved when the other shook his head, remarking: "no need of that, number three. it wasn't such a bad idea though, come to think of it, and does you credit. i'm glad to see that you're waking up, and beginning to work your brain more. but that message will get into the hands of old phin, all right, there's no doubt of that." "d'ye reckon he'll take our word for it; or believe it's only one more clever dodge of the revenue men to get him when he's napping?" asked davy jones. the scoutmaster turned to bob white. "how about that, bob?" he asked. "old phin is narrow minded, as you can easily understand," the southern boy replied. "besides, he's had so many smart dodges played on him, that he'll never believe anybody's word. now, he may make up his mind that because we're only boys he needn't be afraid we expect to capture him; but all the same, we might poke around here, meaning to destroy his still, suh. you can depend upon it that old phin'll never make friends with any one that wears a uniform. that stands for an enemy in his eyes. but i'm hopin' suh, that he'll just conclude to let us alone, and go to one of his mountain hide-outs, to stay till we leave the neighborhood." they were by now tramping along again. trying to forget the ugly part of the affair, thad was picturing in his mind what the home of reuben sparks might be like. he was a rich man, bob had said, and in close touch with the moonshiners; though the government had never been able to connect him with any of the illicit stills that had been raided from time to time during the last dozen years. and so it was only natural to believe that he must have surrounded himself with some of the comforts of civilization, while remaining in this wild region. words let fall by bob had given thad this impression; as though they were going to be surprised when the home of little cousin bertha was come upon. "i'd like to have a little talk with you, thad!" the scoutmaster was not very much surprised when he heard these words, and realized that bob white had caught up with him as he strode along at the head of the little squad of boys in khaki. "he just couldn't hold in any longer," was what thad whispered to himself; "and now he's bound to let down the bars all the way, so somebody will share his secret with him." turning upon the other, he said, pleasantly: "why, as many as you like, bob; what's bothering you now; for i've seen you looking my way quite some time, as though you wanted to speak. i guess you'll feel better when you've had it out." "perhaps i may, suh, though i'm ashamed to have kept it from you so long," answered the southern boy, shame-facedly. "fact is, i tried to deceive myself into thinking that it couldn't interest or concern any of my chums. but now, since i've been thinking it all over, and we've run across old phin, it looks different to me, and i'm of the opinion i had ought to have mentioned this before i took the lot of you down into these danger mountains!" thad knew then that it could be no trifling thing that would agitate the other as this seemed to do, and he steadied himself to meet the disclosure. chapter viii. bob confides in the patrol leader. "what i want to tell you about is--my father," said bob, swallowing something that seemed to be sticking in his throat; as though the mere mention of his dead parent had the power to affect him so. "yes?" thad said, encouragingly, wondering at the same time how one who had passed to the other side several years now, could have any sort of connection with the mission of the scouts to this region. "you'll perhaps understand, suh," continued bob, getting a firmer grip on himself; "when i mention the fact that my father, for a year or so before he was taken, had filled the office of united states marshal for this district." "oh!" exclaimed thad, beginning to see light now. "he was induced to take the office by the president himself, who was a personal friend of my father," the boy went on, proudly; "and having given his word, nothing could make him back out. up to then we had lived at peace with everybody in these mountains; but of course that was bound to come to an end after he had sworn to do his duty; which was to send out his agents to destroy all the secret stills, and bring in the law breakers, if they could be found." "he must soon have had the enmity of old phin, and every other moonshiner about the big smokies," thad remarked, the other having paused, as though to give him a chance to express an opinion. "that is just what happened, suh," bob went on, hurriedly, as, having broken the ice, he wanted to get through as speedily as possible. "after he had led several successful raids in person, the mountaineers saw that they had a different man to deal with from the other old marshal. they sent him terrible warnings of what was going to happen to him if he kept up his work; but my father was a quail; and he didn't know the meanin' of the word fear, suh." "were you and your mother living near here all that time, bob?" asked the scoutmaster. "because, i should have thought she might have been worried for fear some of those desperate men tried to stop your father's work by burning down his home, or doing something like that?" "there were threats made, suh, to that effect; and my father moved his family to asheville to feel that we would be all safe. then there came a dreadful day for us, when my father never came back, after he had gone into these mountains to arrest another batch of moonshiners, whose still had been located. one of the men who had accompanied him told us he had seen him shot down. they were surrounded by bushwhackers, and the rifles were popping all about, so they had to leave him there. he was surely dead, they claimed, before they fled from the spot, and of course, suh, they could not burden themselves with his body." again bob white paused to gulp down the obstacle in his throat. "now, you are wondering, suh, how it happened that when we came to cranford there was a gentleman with us who was called mr. quail, and supposed to be my father. that was my father's twin brother, living in philadelphia. he kindly offered to stay with my mother, who never goes out at all, until we became settled. her mother, my grandmother, had left me a heap of stock in the bank and mills of cranford; and as it was very unpleasant for my mother down this aways, after father went, she had determined to locate up yondah." "and does she know about you coming down here?" asked thad, suspiciously, as if he feared that the other might have deceived the only parent he had left; this bringing a tragedy of the grim mountains so close home to them had given the scout leader considerable of a thrill, for after all, despite his courage and grit, thad was only a boy. bob drew himself up proudly, and his black eyes flashed. "i would sooner cut off my right hand, suh, than deceive my mother," he said. "and, so you may understand the whole thing, i must tell you what a strange longin' i've been hugging to my heart these two years back. it is this. what if, after all, my father was _not_ dead at the time his men saw him fall; what if these moonshiners have kept him a prisoner somewhere in these mountains all this while, meanin' to punish him because he had given them all so much trouble!" "that's a stunning shock you've given me, bob," said thad, drawing a long breath; "but see here, is it just a wild wish to have it so; or have you any reason to believe such a thing; any foundation for the theory, in fact?" "i'll tell you, suh," bob went on, feverishly. "a man came to me one day, and said he had been sent by one of the revenues who had been with my father that sad time, to tell me what he had picked up in the mountains. there were rumors going around that somewhere deep in the mountains, at one of the secret stills, the moonshiners kept a prisoner at work. some said it must be one of the revenue men who had disappeared; and that the moonshiners were bent on making him work up the mash, as a sort of punishment for having done them so much damage when he was in the employ of the government." "i see; and of course you jumped to the conclusion that it might be your own father, alive and well, though held a prisoner of the moonshiners?" "both my mother and myself believed there might be just a little chance that way. she was in bad health, and put it all in my hands. we have never said a word about it to anybody in cranford. while i have been going to school with the rest of the boys in cranford, all the time i was in correspondence with one of the government revenue agents, and paying him to be on the constant watch for any positive signs. he died six months ago, and just when he had begun to think he was getting on a warm scent." "i see," said thad, as the other paused, overcome with emotion; "and ever since then you've been longing to get down here again, to find out for yourself if it _could_ be true. i don't blame you the least bit, bob. and i only hope that you'll be able to learn the truth, even if it dashes all your hopes. whatever we can do to help, you can count on. scouts have to be like brothers, you know. it's a part of our regulations to help any one in trouble; and that applies stronger than ever when it's a fellow scout." "oh! thank you, thad!" exclaimed the warmhearted southern lad, as he squeezed the hand of his companion almost fiercely. "i had no right to influence you to come down here. it is a dangerous place. right now i ought to beg you and the rest to back out, and leave me to fight my battles alone. but somehow i just can't find the grit to do that. i reckon, suh, i'm too selfish. i'm right ashamed of myself at this minute to feel such satisfaction in the grip of your hand." "of course," continued wise thad, "this old moonshiner, phin dady, might still have it in for you, as one of the quail family." "as far as that is concerned, suh, i'm not bothering my head, i assuah you. i'd just as lief face old phin, and snap my fingers under his nose. my idea in wanting to keep him from seeing me was along another line, suh. he would be apt to think 'like father, like son;' and that i had hired out to the government to find where his still lay, so it could be raided. no man has ever done that; old phin declares they never will." "if these mountaineers begin to get bothersome it might interfere some with that other little affair you spoke about?" suggested thad, as they continued to walk on in company. "that's what i'm afraid of, suh," replied bob white; "but i'm hoping for the best." some of the others happening to push up about that time brought the confidential conversation to a close. but surely the young scout leader had plenty to ponder over as he walked on. the hike through the blue ridge, which they had looked forward to simply as a test of endurance, and to develop their knowledge of woodcraft, threatened to turn into a tragic affair. at least, it was no child's play; and if they came out of it without any serious accident happening to any of their number, they would be deserving of great credit. but if thad and bob white were in a serious frame of mind, the same could hardly be said of several other members of the patrol. giraffe, step hen and bumpus seemed to be fairly bubbling over with good humor. some boys can no more control their spirits than they can their appetites. as usual step hen suddenly discovered, while they were halting for a breathing spell, that he was minus something. the evil spirits had evidently been at work again, when he was off his guard, and succeeded in abstracting part of his personal property. it really was a shame how they beset that unlucky fellow. "if it don't just beat the dutch what happens to me?" he was heard to loudly wail, looking around him in a helpless way. "what's the matter now, step hen?" asked allan; although he knew full well what sort of an answer he must receive. "they've been and done it some more," replied the disturbed scout, helplessly. the trouble was, that whenever he missed anything step hen always ran around looking in all the places that no sensible person would ever dream of examining. when giraffe declared that he was like an old hen with its head taken off, it just about fitted the case. "what's gone this time?" continued the boy from maine, with a smile at the way step hen was turning over small stones, and stirring the leaves with his foot, as if he really expected a miracle to be wrought, and to find a bulky object that way. "that little kodak i fetched along; you know i had it wrapped so carefully in a waterproof cloth, and tied with top cord. now it's gone! needn't spring that old story on me, and say i was careless. p'raps i have been a few times; but right now i'm dead sure the fault ain't mine. somebody's playing a joke on me. mind, i ain't mentioning no names; but i've got my suspicions." he looked hard at giraffe, and the accusation could hardly have been given in plainer language than that. but giraffe was used to being unjustly accused. there were occasions when he did seize upon a golden opportunity to hide something belonging to his comrade, because it had been left carelessly around; and giraffe believed it a part of his duty to break the other of such shiftless habits. but on this occasion he held up both hands, declaring solemnly: "give you my word for it i never touched any camera. this time you've either been and dropped it on the road; or else the gold dust twins have nabbed it on you." just then bumpus, who had been wandering aimlessly about after drinking at the cooling waters of the little spring that had been the main cause of this temporary halt in the march, gave utterance to a loud exclamation. he had tripped over something that lay in the grass, and a splash announced that with his usual hard luck the fat boy had managed to go headlong into the spring. scrambling out, with the water streaming from his red face, he turned indignantly on the balance of the patrol, now convulsed with laughter. "what sort of--horse play d'ye call that--i'd like to know?" he sputtered, trying to wipe his streaming face with a handkerchief that looked far too small for the task. "can't a feller--just stroll around camp--without some silly putting out a foot, and tripping him up? tell me that, now?" "i'm beginning to think we must have some sort of a hoodoo along with us," remarked smithy, anxiously. "all sorts of things seem to be happening, and in the most mysterious way possible. we all know that there wasn't a single fellow anywhere near bumpus when he pitched forward. yet he says _somebody_ put out a foot, and he tripped over it. i think it a remarkable phenomenon, for a fact, and worth investigating." "well, somethin' _did_ trip me, and that's sure," grumbled the other, possibly thinking that he had been too sweeping in his accusation. "suppose you look in that bunch of grass, and find out if the little evil spirit that's playing all these pranks on you is lying there?" suggested thad, with a twinkle in his eye, as though he could give a pretty shrewd guess what the result of the said exploration would turn out to be. so bumpus, always willing to oblige, especially since his own curiosity must have been aroused, proceeded forthwith to get down on his hands and knees, and begin an examination of the tangle in question. half a minute later he gave a loud cry. at the same time he was seen to hold up some strange black object. "look! bumpus has caught his little evil genius!" cried giraffe. "and ain't it a hard lookin' subject though. caught him right by the ankle, and threw him straight into our spring. lucky we'd had all the drink we wanted before he started to wash there!" "why, blessed if it ain't my kodak!" ejaculated step hen faintly, as though it shocked him to think how his lost camera should have been lying there in all that tangle of grass, where it had undoubtedly fallen as he prepared to take his turn bending over the water hole. of course everybody laughed, for they could guess what had happened. step hen's little failings were an everyday occurrence. as giraffe had often declared, the careless one would have long since lost his head had not a kind nature secured it to his body. the march was resumed, with thad lecturing step hen on his prevailing sin; and as usual step hen solemnly promising to be more careful the next time. but he had a very slippery mind, and the chances were that before nightfall he would be up to his old tricks again, accusing the rest of playing a prank by hiding some of his possessions. "there's a man sitting on that rock up there, watching us!" said davy jones, in a tone that thrilled them all. "a regular mountaineer too," added smithy. "just as i've pictured them often, with butternut jean trousers, a ragged woolen shirt open at the neck, and an old hat on his frowsy head. boys, he seems to have a gun in his possession, too." they were a little uneasy as they passed along; but the lone man seemed to simply watch the squad of uniformed scouts without making any hostile move. "chances are," remarked davy jones, after they lost sight of the man; "he was some sort of vidette or sentry, posted up there to keep an eye on the trail; and if any suspicious characters came along, to send word to the other moonshiners. i understand they can telegraph all right without the aid of instruments, or even the latest wireless outfit. how about that, bob?" "yes, it is so," replied the southern boy. "they do it by making smokes; or sometimes by sounds that are passed along from one station to another. it's queer how fast a message can be relayed in that way." "well," remarked thad, "that's the method used by blacks in africa; and they do say they can send news of a battle faster than white men can get it along by relays of telegraph stations, with breaks where a carrier has to be used." "are we getting anywhere close to the place you said old reuben lived at, bob?" asked bumpus, who was showing signs of being tired. "another hour will take us to where we can look across the wonderful little valley and see the place," bob answered. "you will all be surprised, for nobody would ever think so fine a house could be found among these wild mountains; but as i told you before, reuben sparks seems never to have been molested by the moonshiners. most people believe he is a secret partner in the business." "say, would you look yonder, where that road comes around the spur back of us; to think of seeing a real buggy and a flesh and blood horse, and back of the animal a gentleman and lady! i'm sure dreaming!" remarked giraffe, just then. "not a bit of it you ain't, because i see them myself," added step hen, eagerly. "and unless my eyes deceive me, we've met that gentleman before," said allan. "yes," remarked bob, with trembling voice, "it's reuben sparks; and that must be my little cousin, bertha!" chapter ix. opening communications. it was the most natural thing in the world for the detachment of scouts to come to a halt when they discovered the vehicle coming up in their rear. in the midst of such wild surroundings it was indeed quite a surprise to discover anything so civilized. so they lined up on either side of the road, resting on the stout staves which all of them carried as a means of assistance in their mountain climbing; just as tourists in the alps do when ascending some peak. thad noticed how quickly bob white pulled his broad-brimmed campaign hat down over his eyes; and at the same time managed to slip partly behind one of his companions. it would interfere somewhat with the cherished plans of the boy, should reuben sparks recognize him; and this was a catastrophe which bob certainly wished to avoid, if possible. the vehicle came on, and apparently the man must be telling his companion how he had met these young fellows before, for she was looking ahead with a great deal of interest and curiosity; though hardly dreaming that her cousin could be among the lads, who were clad in neat khaki uniforms, with puttees for leggings, and the well-known hats that distinguish boy scouts in every clime under the sun. just as thad had expected would be the case, reuben sparks drew in his horse as he arrived in the midst of the scouts. evidently he wanted to have a few minutes' talk with them; and allow the girl a chance to catch for herself a fleeting glimpse of that outside world of which she knew so little. "how are you, boys?" remarked the driver of the horse. "pretty fairly, sir," replied thad, anxious to keep the attention of the other directed toward himself as much as possible, because of bob's desire to remain unnoticed in the background. "we haven't been used to mountain work; but it's fine exercise, and our muscles are getting in shape by degrees." thad had before now, of course, flung a look at the girl who was sitting beside reuben sparks. he was more interested because of the fact that he knew her to be the little cousin bertha, of whom bob white had been telling him. she was a pretty little girl too, thad could see that; and he also thought there was a wistful expression on her delicate face. if, as bob declared, bertha was really a prisoner in the care of a cruel guardian, when her whole soul longed to be away from these wild mountains, and in the haunts of civilization, that expression would be easily understood. and right then and there thad brewster found himself siding with his chum bob white more than ever. he felt a hope beginning to grow strong within his heart that some way might be discovered whereby bertha could be taken from the blue ridge, which country she detested, and transplanted to that northern town where lived her own flesh and blood relatives, who yearned to care for her tenderly, if only the law would allow. thad saw that bob was no longer in the same place. the scouts had moved forward a little, to cluster around the vehicle, while their leader held conversation with the gentleman. and bob was gradually making his way around so as to come on the other side, where he might in some way attract the attention of the little maid without reuben seeing him. it was plain to be seen that he hoped to seize upon this golden opportunity to open communications with bertha. thad, while he continued to talk with reuben, and interest him more or less in the object of a hike on the part of boy scouts, kept one eye in the direction of bob white. he saw the other take off his campaign hat, and wave it up and down with a movement that of course attracted the attention of the girl. she started violently as she saw that well-known face of her cousin, of whom she had been so fond ever since she was a little tot. wise bob instantly placed a warning finger on his lips, and the girl immediately turned her face the other way, while that campaign hat was drawn further down than ever over the boy's face. so that when reuben glanced round, as if wondering what had caused his ward to give such a violent start, he saw nothing suspicious in the boy who was apparently bending over, fastening his shoestring. of course reuben sparks knew more or less about boy scouts, even though he may never have had the opportunity of meeting any of the great organization up to this time. no one who had the ability to read the papers could be without that knowledge. and thad made it a point to mention any number of interesting features connected with their work, that rather opened his eyes, and kept him asking for more information. like many other people, reuben sparks had imagined that the movement had to do with drilling american boys, so that they could become soldiers as they grew up. he now learned, to his surprise, that there never could be a greater mistake. instead of teaching boys to fight, the principles of the organization tend toward peace. the main thing advanced is to make boys more manly, self-reliant, courteous, brave, self-sacrificing, forgetting their own comfort when they can do a good deed, and relieve distress; take care of themselves when in the woods; and perhaps save the life of a comrade, should he be wounded by a carelessly used hatchet; or come near drowning. no wonder then that reuben sparks found himself intensely interested in what thad was telling him. his eyes were being opened to facts that he had never dreamed could be connected with a simple organization of growing lads. and many another who has scoffed at the silly idea of trying to improve upon the breed of american boys, has been staggered when brought face to face with many wonderful results that have already sprung from this greatest of all upward movements. thad saw after a bit that his object had been accomplished. bob white had not been so busy tying his shoestring as reuben imagined. on the contrary he was scribbling something on a scrap of paper, which he held doubled up in his hand when he worked his way to the rear of the vehicle. undoubtedly the little missy who sat there so demurely beside reuben must have been slily watching his actions. and moreover, she surely divined what bob meant to do; for as thad watched, he saw her left hand, being the one further away from her guardian, quietly slip back, until it came within easy touching distance of the scout who had sauntered up there. no doubt impulsive bob must have pressed that little hand even as he passed his note into its possession; for as he told thad, he had always loved his small cousin like a sister. fearing detection, the boy quickly moved away; and it was fortunate he did, since reuben in the midst of his questions glanced suspiciously around, a minute later. there was now no longer any reason for detaining the owner of the vehicle; and thad's eagerness in answering questions and giving information slackened. truth to tell, he was not at all favorably impressed with the looks of the gentleman. reuben had keen, rat-like eyes, that seemed to burn a hole in one when they became focused. there was constant suspicion in his manner, as though with so many secrets to hide, he had always to be on guard. and besides, thad believed that bob must have struck a true chord when he declared the other to be cruel and unscrupulous by nature. perhaps he might be plotting to secure the little inheritance left to the child by her father. it seemed almost beyond belief that any one could be so mean as to want to injure so sweet looking a little girl as bertha; but then, old reuben worshipped gold, and when a man becomes a miser he hesitates at few things in order to add to his stores. but however the gentleman might have been interested in learning more about the ways of boy scouts, thad took particular notice that he did not invite the hiking silver fox patrol to stop a day or so with him at his mountain home. it might have been just natural meanness that caused this, since eight healthy young appetites would eat up all in his larder. but then again, there may have been other reasons for the lack of southern hospitality. possibly reuben did not care to have inquisitive strangers prowling about his place. he may have occasional visitors, who brought cargoes which he would not want other eyes to see. the boys fell in shortly after the vehicle had vanished around a bend of the road ahead; and the march was once more resumed. of course bob took the earliest opportunity to forge alongside of thad. he was feverishly excited, so that his black eyes sparkled, and his breath came faster than usual. "what did you think of him, thad?" he asked, the first thing. "i must say i don't just like his looks;" replied the other; "but your little cousin is everything you said she was. but bob, she doesn't look happy!" "you could see that too, could you, suh?" exclaimed the other, gritting his teeth angrily. "i know he treats her badly. she is thinner in the cheeks than she was two years ago, though taller some. and thad, there's a look in her eyes that hurts me. i'm glad i wrote what i did in that little note i slipped in her hand. later on i'm going to tell you about it. but oh! it looks like there was a slim chance to do anything for poor little bertha." thad hardly knew how to console his chum. boy-like he was ready to promise anything that lay in his power. "well, there are eight of us, and that's not as bad as being here alone," he suggested, with a cheering pat of his hand on the other's shoulder. "you'll never know how much comfort i get out of that, thad," the southern boy went on to say, in a broken voice. "you see, i've been believing for a long time that there must have been something crooked about the way reuben sparks came into possession of bertha, and her property. but how to prove it, when my father failed, is what gets me now. but i'm full of hope; and what you keep saying gives me a heap of solid comfort. i'm going to try and learn the truth while i'm down here; and take her away from that man, if it can be done. i'm only a boy, and he's a cold scheming man; but all the same, thad, something inside here seems to tell me my visit to the old blue ridge isn't going to be useless." bob white seemed to be sensibly encouraged after his little chat with the patrol leader; for when he dropped back among the rest of the scouts he had allowed a winning smile to creep over his dark, proud, handsome face. chapter x. the voice of the silver fox patrol. "we're going to pitch our camp right here, boys!" said the scout leader, some time later; "and remember, there's to be no shouting from this time on. we're in the enemy's country, and must observe the rules of caution." "oh! ain't i glad though," sighed bumpus, who had been busily engaged between wiping his perspiring brow, and avoiding stumbles over obstacles that seemed to take particular delight in getting in his way, he thought. "but i hope you're not going so far, thad, as to keep us from having our regular camp-fire?" remarked giraffe. "without that, it'd be a sad business, i'm thinking. and what's supper, without a cup of coffee?" thad had been talking again with bob white; and evidently the boy who was acquainted with the locality must have posted the patrol leader regarding things. "oh! we don't expect to do without that, make your mind easy, number six," he replied, with a laugh, knowing what a weakness giraffe had in the line of eating; though it seemed to do him little good, since he was as "thin as a rail," plump little bumpus used to declare. with various exclamations of satisfaction the weary boys tossed their burdens aside, and followed by throwing themselves on the ground. after a short rest, of course preparations for passing the night would be in order; but a little breathing spell, first of all, was in order. thad walked away, in company with allan and bob white. "now, what in the wide world d'ye think they're going to do?" demanded step hen, when the three had vanished from sight among the brush that lay around. "there you go," broke out bumpus, "as curious as any old maid in all cranford, always wantin' to know the reason why. a pretty scout you'll make, step hen; and it'll be a long time before you win any medals, or pass an exam, for the proud position of a first-class scout. but i wonder what they _do_ mean to do?" the others laughed at this. "after this, bumpus, take the mote out of your own eye before you try and get a fence rail from mine. but they're up to some dodge, take it from me. and it'll be mean if they don't let us into the deal, sooner or later," and step hen shook his head dismally as he spoke; for he was most unhappy when he believed there was anything going on without his being told all about it. "great country this," remarked smithy, lying there on his back, and looking up at the lofty peaks that were bathed in the glow of the setting sun. "about as wild as anything i ever saw. don't surprise me to know that the men who were born and brought up here can defy the clumsy officers of the government, when they attempt to capture them. in my humble opinion they'll just keep on making that moonshine stuff here in the big smokies until the year three thousand, if the washington people hold that big tax on the real brand, so as to make it worth while." "it sure is some ragged," remarked davy jones, yawning; for davy did not happen to be possessed of a soul that could admire the grandeur of any rough scenery; and only thought what a nuisance it was to have to do so much climbing all the while. "hold on there, step hen," exclaimed giraffe, as the other started to collect a handful of small sticks; "don't you dare think of starting that fire. that's my particular job; the patrol leader gave it over to me, you understand." "just to keep you good," sneered step hen, throwing the sticks down again. "you keep on itching to make fires so much, that he just had to bribe you to let up, or some day you'd set the river afire." "huh! no danger of you ever doing that, i guess," chuckled giraffe. all the same, he got up, and began to gather small tinder on his own account. "mind you," he observed a minute later, as though half regretting his action in squelching step hen so soon; "if anybody feels like lending a hand to gather fuel, why there ain't nothin' against _that_; and we'll have that bully old coffee all the sooner, you understand." this sort of subtle persuasion seemed to at least stir davy jones into life, for getting slowly to his feet, he began to collect larger wood, and throw it down close to where the energetic fire-builder was starting to make his blaze. giraffe was a real fire worshipper. he dreamed of his pet hobby; and many times could be seen, apparently idly whittling a stick; when, if asked what he was doing, his reply would invariably be: "well, we might want to start a fire some time or other; and then these shavings'd come in handy, you see." on several notable occasions this weakness of giraffe's had managed to get him into more or less trouble; and the sagacious scout leader finally had to take him to task. so on this mountain hike it had been agreed between them that giraffe would refrain from attempting his favorite rôle of making miscellaneous fires at odd times, if allowed to build all the camp-fires of the trip. and so far he had really kept his word, though there were times when the temptation nearly overcame his scruples. when thad and the other two came back, darkness had settled over the scene. this came all the sooner on account of the high walls that shut them in on either side; though just beyond the boys believed there must be some sort of an open spot, in the way of a valley. "i'm glad to see that you made a fine fireplace for cooking, number six," remarked the patrol leader, as he looked around; "because we may spend a day or so right here, resting up a bit. now, while supper is getting underway i'm going to tell you a few things that are apt to interest you some. they concern our comrade bob white here, and he's given me full permission to say what i'm going to." "there, step hen, what did i tell you?" cried bumpus, gleefully. "next time just get a throttle grip on that bump of curiosity of yours." "i've heard my maw say people that live in glass houses hadn't ought to heave any stones," retorted the other, witheringly. but the boys quickly forgot all their differences, once thad started to tell of the strange things which he had heard from bob white. there was an intaking of the breath, such as would indicate great excitement, as they learned how bob's father had been connected with the raids on the secret stills of the mountain moonshiners. and when finally they heard how he had met so terrible a fate, while pursuing his sworn duty by the government, glances of true brotherly sympathy were cast in the direction of bob. "now," said thad, in conclusion; "you've heard about all there is to tell; and i know you're tremendously astonished, because none of us had any idea that we were going to run up against such a thing as this when we asked bob to let us go with him to his old home here among the blue ridge mountains. but what is important to know, is your decision. majority rules in everything of this kind; and if more than half of you think we ought to turn right back, and not keep on, why, there's nothing to be done but turn about, and go over the trail again." "well, not much!" exclaimed giraffe, filled with a spirit of boyish comradeship toward the chum who had been so sorely afflicted, and whose sad story was now discovered for the first time. "put it up to a vote, thad!" remarked bumpus, trying to look grim and determined, though his round face was usually so merry that it was a hard proposition for him to seem serious. "all in favor of returning to-morrow say aye," thad suggested. just as he expected, there was absolute silence. "all in favor of sticking to our chum through thick and thin, and doing all we can to help him over the rough places, say aye!" the leader continued. a chorus of eager assents drowned his words. bob white's fine dark eyes filled up with tears. he could not trust himself to speak; but the look he gave each and every one of those seven loyal comrades was more eloquent than any words could have been. "after we've had supper," thad went on warmly, "bob means to go to keep his appointment with his little cousin, who expects to slip out of the house, and meet him where he wrote her he would be at a certain hour. there's the queerest valley you ever saw just ahead of us. across it you can see the lights of reuben sparks' house, and several others that lie there in a bunch, a sort of hamlet, because it's hardly a village. and bob says that reuben really owns about the whole place. he can get over there in an hour or so, because he knows the ground so well. and while he's gone, we can take it easy here, making up our beds for the night; if so be there are any bushes to be cut, worth sleeping on." "hey, would you see how fine a fire-tender that giraffe is; it's gone clean out, that's what?" cried step hen, just then. "well, would you blame him, when he was listening to such an interesting story as the one i had to tell?" asked thad. "get busy, number six, and have a blaze going in quick time." "ay, ay, sir," sang out giraffe, who had wisely laid aside a surplus supply of fine stuff when making the fire, which now came in very handy. and when the coffee was finally done, and they gathered around, sitting on rocks, logs, or even cross-legged, tailor-fashion, on the ground, the eight scouts made a very fine picture in their uniforms. apparently their appetites had been sharpened by that afternoon jaunt, judging from the way they pitched in. and perhaps, after all, reuben sparks had been a wise as well as prudent man when he failed to invite this squad of lads to stop over with him; for they would have made a sad inroad on the contents of his larder; and food costs money. "where's bob?" demanded bumpus, suddenly, after they had been about half an hour trying to lighten their supplies, and with wonderfully good success. "he was sitting over yonder only three minutes ago; and now he's gone. reckon that bad spirit of yours is sneakin' around again, step hen, and must a took bob by mistake; though i pity his eyes if he'd ever think so good lookin' a feller as bob could be you!" "bob's gone to keep his appointment," remarked thad, quietly. and the boys said nothing more about it, knowing that the southern lad laid considerable store upon this meeting with his little cousin bertha; whom he expected to coax in to helping him try and see whether sly old reuben sparks might not have forgotten to destroy all evidence of fraud, in connection with his dealings with her father, the uncle of bob. so the conversation drifted to other topics; and soon they were laughing over some of the queer happenings in the past history of the silver fox patrol. chapter xi. what was under the hat. the flames crackled merrily, and the seven boys who lounged there in as comfortable attitudes as they could strike, were fully enjoying themselves. this sort of outdoor life seemed to appeal very strongly to all of them, though of course to some more than others. it had always been a passion with thad, for instance; and allan could look back to scores of occasions when he sat by a camp-fire; because he was a maine boy, and as such had spent considerable time in the piney woods of his native state, hunting, fishing, and living close to nature's heart. while they could not indulge in any of their songs, according to the regulations that had been put in force by the patrol leader, this did not prevent the boys from enjoying sundry good laughs when comical stories were told. "reckon bob's been gone more'n an hour now," remarked step hen, who had been more thrilled by the story of the government agent's sad fate than any of the others; because step hen had always been a great reader of tales of daring and adventure, and often pictured himself playing the rôle of a hero, with the admiring crowd cheering him to the echo, and wanting to carry him around on their shoulders. "yes, and pretty soon allan will be going out to communicate with him, because, you know they arranged a series of signals by means of the lantern, and burning matches that bob'll hold up. but don't talk too loud about that same matter, step hen; because, you understand, we're close by the road; and somebody might be coming along at the time. remember that man we saw sitting on the rock with his gun between his knees? well, i guess there are a considerable number of others just like him around these diggings; and by now they all know we're in the mountains, bent on some errand they can't understand." of course it was thad himself who said all this. he knew the failing step hen had of shouting everything out loud; and thad really believed they would be wise to carry on their conversation in tones that could not be heard very far away. it turned out later that he was wiser than he dreamed, when he gave step hen this little hint. they had started bumpus telling how an angry bull had once chased him around a tree on his uncle's farm, and the boys were laughing at his comical description of the scene at the time when the pursuit was hottest, and he could have caught hold of the animal's tail had he wanted, when a dismal wail arose. "well, did you ever, if that ain't step hen putting up his regular howl!" exclaimed giraffe, indignantly. "and just when bumpus here had got to the most exciting point in his yarn," added the disgusted davy jones. "whatever are you looking for now, you poor silly thing?" demanded the story-teller, who himself disliked very much to have his thrilling tale interrupted in this manner. "i can't find my hat, and that's what?" declared the scout whose besetting sin was carelessness; "had it on only a little while ago, but now it's sure gone up the flue." step hen twisted his neck as he spoke, and looked up into the branches of the tree under which they had built their camp-fire; just as though he really suspected that a giant hand had been lowered from the foliage, to clutch his campaign hat from his head, and vanish with it. things that step hen owned were always in great demand among these mysterious spirits of the air; since nothing belonging to his chums seemed ever to disappear. "oh! sit down, and let bumpus finish his story," growled giraffe. "what's an old hat after all, to kick up such a row over it? ten to one now you've stowed it away in one of your pockets. i've known you to do that more'n a few times." "'tain't so, because i've tried every pocket i've got, and never found a thing. p'raps, now, one of you fellers happened to see it lying around, and put it on, of course by mistake, thinkin' it his own. anybody got two hats on?" "you make me tired, sure you do, step hen," giraffe continued. "we know what he is, boys, and that none of us will get any peace till his old hat turns up. might as well get out, and find it for the poor baby. if i lost things as much as step hen does, i'd just get some twine, and tie everything on, good and tight. then if i missed my hat all i'd have to do would be to pull in a certain string, and there she'd be, all slick and sound." while he was speaking giraffe arose to his feet, but not without making sundry wry faces; for he had been sitting a whole hour in a cramped position, and his muscles were moreover tired from the day's jaunt. "now watch me find your old hat before you can say jack robinson fifty times," he boasted, as he started to hustle about. step hen seemed quite willing that he should carry out his word, for he himself made no further move looking to hunting for the missing head-gear. suddenly they heard giraffe give a queer little grunt, that seemed to contain a mixture of satisfaction and disdain. he darted into the adjoining bushes. "here she is!" he called out, "and alyin' in the shadows, as cute as you please. use your eyes next time, step hen, and p'raps--oh! great governor!" giraffe came jumping back into the circle of light cast by the camp-fire. he certainly did have a hat clutched in his hand, at which he was staring in the oddest way imaginable. the others had gained their feet, drawn by some motive that possibly they themselves did not half understand; but it had seemed to thad as though there was a note of sudden alarm in giraffe's cry; and the others may have thought the same thing. step hen, believing himself to be entitled to the recovery of his individual property, hustled forward, and deliberately took the hat from the hand of his comrade. "much obliged, giraffe, on account of going to all that trouble for me," he said, sweetly, so as to impress the other, and cause him to repeat the favor at some future time. "but it's mighty queer how my hat ever got over in that clump of bushes. give you my word for it, i ain't stepped that way since we struck here; afraid of snakes, you know, fellers. goes to prove what i told you about _something_ hoverin' around, that we just can't see, and which grabs things belongin' to me every--say, giraffe, what sort of a joke are you playin' on me now; this ain't my hat!" "i--know--it--ain't!" gasped the tall scout, who seemed to have some difficulty in regaining his breath. "it's an old and worn-out thing in the bargain; and see here, it ain't even regulation campaign, because it's off color. there ain't no cord around it either; and my hat's got my badge fastened to it, to tell it from the rest when they get mixed. where'd you get this old thing, anyhow, giraffe?" by now the other had recovered from the shock which he seemed to have received. he was even eager to tell his version of the affair, as his comrades clustered around him. "i saw the hat when i told you i did," he began, in an awed voice; "and all the time i was aspeakin' i kept pushin' my way into the brush, intendin' to snatch up the same, and throw it out to step hen here. the reason i cut short was because, when i grabbed the hat by the rim, and gave a jerk, _i felt a head under it_!" bumpus immediately caught hold of the arm of the scoutmaster. it was not because he was afraid, though bumpus had often been reckoned a bit timid; but the action appeared to inspire him with confidence. he knew that thad would be equal to the emergency. and in times of stress it feels good to be in close touch with one who is going to save the day. thad understood without being told, what it all meant. some spy had been secretly observing the movements of the scouts, hidden in that bunch of brushwood; and when his hat caught the eager eye of giraffe, the latter had supposed of course that it was the missing head-gear. they looked blankly at each other, thad, allan and the other five. then, as if unconsciously, and by mutual consent, they turned their gaze in the direction of the thicket from which step hen had just emerged, bearing the tell-tale stranger hat in his hand. perhaps they expected to see some one rushing away in hot haste, so as not to be caught napping by these young fellows wearing the uniform in use by united states regulars. but nothing seemed to be moving there; at least they caught no sound to indicate that the spy was in full flight at that moment. thad reached out, and took the hat from the trembling hand of step hen; who heaved a sigh of relief upon feeling it leave his clutch; as though a spell might have been broken by the act. one look told the patrol leader that in all probability the hat belonged to a mountaineer. it was indeed old, and had an unusually wide brim. being somewhat of the same color as those worn by the scouts, in the semi-darkness it was no wonder giraffe had made the mistake he did, and reached out for it, under the belief that he had found the missing head-gear of the careless comrade. of course he realized his astonishing mistake the instant his fingers came in contact with a human head that had been held low down, in the expectation that the spying owner might remain undiscovered. thad knew that they were apt to see more of the one to whom that article belonged. sometimes these mountaineers think a good deal of the hats they wear; at least thad knew they clung to them a pretty long time, if the greasy appearance of some he had seen might be taken for an index to the affection they entertained for the felt that sheltered their heads from the summer sun, and the wintry blasts. "well, giraffe, you certainly made a big mistake when you took this hat for the one our chum had lost," remarked thad, in a loud, clear voice, which he hoped would reach the ears of the one in hiding, and bring him forth; "and you owe some sort of an apology to the owner." "but how in the wide world c'n i tell whose hat it is, thad?" expostulated the tall and lanky scout. "thet's all right, younker," said a gruff voice, "i'm the critter as owns thet ere hat; phin dady's my name. reckon ye've heard o' me," and with the words a man stalked into the camp. he was tall and straight, and carried a long repeating rifle. more than that, he had a small face, and piercing eyes like those of a badger. and every scout felt a thrill as he realized that he was face to face with the notorious moonshiner, phin dady, whom the whole united states government had tried for years in vain to capture. chapter xii. an honored guest. the boys looked at the moonshiner, who returned their stares with interest. he seemed utterly indifferent as to whether they chose to receive him either as a friend or a foe. from this thad was almost certain that there must be other fierce mountaineers close by, ready to back up their chief, should he provoke a quarrel with the strange boys in uniform. that fact meant serious trouble for the scouts, if it happened to come to pass. thad knew that these lawless men of the mountains, who snap their fingers at the authority of the courts, and feel safe in the security of their secret fastnesses, deep in the unknown regions back of the trodden trails, think very little of human life. they are usually engaged in some vendetta between rival factions, or families, and blood is frequently shed. understanding how thin was the ice upon which he and his comrades were skating, the patrol leader felt that he could not be too careful how he provoked this man of strong passions to violence. a little to his surprise phin dady wheeled, and faced him directly. but then the mountaineer was gifted with a sharp vision, and he could readily guess which one of the scouts served in the capacity of leader. perhaps there was that in the manner of thad to tell him this fact. or he might have been watching and listening long enough to see how the others all deferred to thad's judgment. "i gut yer letter o. k.," he said, simply. thad's anxious face brightened up instantly; he saw that for the time being the other meant to put aside his hostility. curiosity had supplanted enmity. he wanted to learn more about what that term "boy scouts," used in the message left in the cleft of the stick, might mean. "and i hope you read what we wrote, phin dady?" the boy asked, eagerly. a whimsical smile flashed athwart the thin face of the mountaineer. "as fur me, i ain't much o' a hand ter read, any more'n i am ter write; but thar chanced ter be a feller along as hed sum schoolin'; an' him an' me, we managed ter figger it out. thort as how i'd like ter run up agin ye all, an' larn wat all this hyar bizness consarnin' boy scouts be. heerd tell 'bout sich, but never cud find anythin' but a cold trail. so i kim over ter see ye; an' p'raps now ye'd open up an' 'xplain." "i'll be only too glad to do that, if you'll take a seat at our camp-fire here for a little while, phin dady," thad remarked, making a movement with his hand to indicate where the other could find a comfortable spot to rest. the man looked closely at the speaker; then turned his head, and deliberately made a motion with his hand, that must have been intended for some concealed confederate. after which he stepped over, and took a seat, but not the one thad had indicated as the post of honor. "reckon i'll sit hyar, ef so be it's all ther same ter you-uns," he said, as he dropped down, and swung his rifle across his knees. "yuh see, i likes ter look at everybody w'en i gets ter talkin'. it's more sociable like." but thad knew better. the gleam in those beady eyes told him what the true meaning of this action must be. when a man has been hunted, in and out of season, for the better part of his long life, he naturally become most suspicious of every stranger, young and old. many had been the shrewd games engineered by the revenue men to catch this old weasel asleep. he trusted no one all the way, even his best friends, who might be tempted to betray him because of the reward that was offered for his capture. but although thad had guessed just why the other chose the seat he had taken, it would have been most unwise on his part to have shown any resentment; or even to let phin dady know that he understood. "you see," thad began, simply, "we were warned to be careful before we left asheville, because people said that the fact of our wearing uniforms might make the mountain folks think we had something to do with the army. i was explaining all about what the boy scouts represent to mr. reuben sparks only a short time ago, and he was greatly interested. if you'll listen, then, i'll go back, and tell what we aim to do; and why we have left our homes to take a long hike through a mountainous region, for up where we live we have no such big hills as these." so thad began, and told in as simple language as he could find just what objects were kept in mind among all troops of boy scouts, whether in america, england, australia, south africa, germany, france or any other country on the face of the globe. fortunately thad was a good talker. he knew how to make use of a whole lot of little things in order to arouse the interest of the one who was listening; and he certainly had a subject worthy of his best efforts in this explanation of what the boy scout movement stood for. and the mountain man was deeply interested too. he proved this by the way he hung upon the words of the boy. now and then his suspicious nature would show itself in a cautious look around, as though he wanted to make sure that no shrewd game were being engineered, while the speaker kept his attention engaged. several times he broke in on thad to ask questions. he could not get it through his head, for instance, why boys any more than men, should set about doing all the work that scouts attempt, without pay. in this region of the hookworm, where men never dream of working until driven to it by actual hunger, they think others must be crazy to voluntarily take upon themselves huge tasks that try both brain and muscle. "but sure the gov'ment pays yuh!" he said three separate times, as though he felt positive there must be some secret connection between the boy scout movement, and the authorities at washington; else why should they be wearing the uniform he and his fellow-moonshiners had come to look on as the mark of the oppressor; for several times the army had been called into the field to hunt down the elusive law breakers, who simply vanished utterly from view, and remained in hiding until the raid was over. "not one cent do we get from anybody," thad assured him, positively. "why, even our uniforms have to be bought with money we've each one earned. we're not allowed to accept them as a gift from any man, or any source. so you see, we're under no obligations to anybody." again phin dady asked a series of questions which would indicate that he was at least interested in all thad told him, though possibly he believed only a small part of the whole. when thad repeated to him the twelve cardinal features of a boy scout's vow, taken when he joined a troop, phin shook his head helplessly, as though it were beyond his power of understanding. indeed, that was where the trouble lay; he possessed so shallow a nature that he was utterly unable to grasp the full significance of the scheme. there must be some sort of recompense, in dollars and cents, to make it worth while for any person to do things that called for labor. and that was why he continued to keep his weapon across his knees as he sat and listened, and asked an occasional question. phin dady was not going to be lulled to sleep by any interesting yarn that sounded very "fishy" in his ears. of course, the other scouts had discreetly remained silent while all this was going on. they were content to let thad do the talking, for none of them could equal the patrol leader in explaining what the benefits were, which boys might expect to obtain when they joined a scout patrol. several of them just sat there, and stared in open-mouthed wonder at the man, of whom they had heard more or less lately, and whose defiance of the authorities had been a matter of many years' standing. phin dady might boast of no education whatever; and his knowledge of the world, outside the confines of the big smokies, was doubtless extremely limited; but he did possess what served him far better in the warfare in which he was continually engaged with revenue agents--a natural shrewdness such as the wily fox of the forest shows, and by means of which he outwits his pursuers. "an' yuh kim 'way down this away jest tuh climb the mountings, an' see wot yuh cud do acampin' out without ary tents er blankets, did yuh?" the mountaineer went on, surveying the boyish faces that formed a half circle around him. "wall, i jest reckons ye'll know a heap more by ther time ye gits back ter yer homes'n yuh did w'en yuh started out." he chuckled as he said that. thad wondered whether there could be any hidden meaning back of the words. when dealing with such a slippery customer as this hunted moonshiner, it was always necessary to keep on the watch. the man who always suspected others of double dealing might be in the same class himself. "oh! we're quite sure of that," said the patrol leader, with a pleasant smile. "already those among us who had never climbed a mountain slope before, have had their leg muscles stiffened, and can do better work than in the start. we expect to have a pretty good time all around. and we wrote you that message, phin dady, because we believed you were ordering us out of these mountains under a mistake that we meant to do you, or some of your friends, harm. we want you to feel that we never dreamed of that when we started in here." "then i hopes as how yuh beant changin' o' yer minds sence yuh kim," remarked the moonshiner, just as though he knew what the subject of their recent conversations might have been. before thad could decide just what sort of an answer he ought to make, if any at all, the manner of the other changed as if by magic. his face took on a fierce expression, and he looked along the row of boyish faces by which he was confronted, as though one of them had done something to arouse his hot anger. the click of the hammer of his gun could be heard as his thumb drew it back; and the scouts shrank away in dismay when they saw the flame in his small eyes. "quick! tell me you'uns, whar be the other one? thar was sure eight w'en we counted yuh from the side o' the mounting. an' it mout pay yuh ter 'member thet ole phin, he beant the man ter fool with. eight thar was; whar be the other right now?" and thad realized that the ice was indeed getting desperately thin under their feet at that particular moment. chapter xiii. baiting old phin, the moonshiner. thad himself managed to retain his self-possession under these trying conditions. what he believed he had to fear most of all, was that one of his chums might give the secret away by some ill-advised remark, uttered under the spur of the moment. he knew that they must have shrunk back, appalled, when the moonshiner made such a threatening move, accompanying his fierce words. but for the life of him thad could not tear his eyes away from the face of the man himself. it was just as well. phin dady looked to thad, as the leader of the scouts, for an answer to his demand. had the boy shown any evidences of confusion or weakening just then, it might have confirmed the sudden ugly suspicions that had flashed into the other's mind, and just when he was growing more or less interested in the wonderful stories he had been listening to concerning the aims and ambitions of these uniformed lads. "there are eight of us, just as you say," thad remarked, trying to look surprised at the change of front on the part of his caller; "but the other one, white his name is, has gone to see reuben sparks on business. we expect him back inside of an hour or so. if you'd care to wait you can meet him." his air was so candid, and his face so free from guile that the moonshiner could find no further cause for suspicion. besides, had he not heard in the beginning that the scouts had already made the acquaintance of reuben sparks; who, like himself had displayed more or less interest in their aims and ambitions. phin dady even began to feel a little ashamed of his sudden threatening attitude. the fierce look on his thin face, that with his gleaming wolfish eyes, had made him appear so savage, gradually vanished. it gave way to a rather stupid grin; as though the man realized how silly it was of him to suspect that these half-grown boys could do injury to one who for years had defied all the forces of the united states government. "so, thet's it, younker, is it?" he said; "wall, i'm right glad ye c'd 'xplain ther thing right off'n the reel. course mister sparks, he's int'rested in byes, even ef he beant the father o' any hisself. an' he 'vited yer pal over ter see him, did he, so's ter tell him a heap more?" "he was very much taken with the idea, and showed it by asking a great many questions," thad went on; trying to keep within the lines of the truth, and yet allow the other to draw his own conclusions, to the effect that reuben had given one of the patrol a pressing invitation to call upon him, and continue the interesting recital of the boy scouts' ambitions. "yuh war sayin' right now, thet these hyar byes hain't never 'xpectin' ter be sojers; an' thet they don't kerry arms; air thet a fack?" when the mountaineer made this remark he was looking straight toward the tree, against which rested the shotgun. evidently he was a little in doubt concerning the truth of what the patrol leader had said; or it may have been, wise old phin was desirous of learning just what he and his followers would have to go up against if ever they attacked the camp of the invaders. thad laughed good-naturedly. "that's the only firearm in camp, just at present," he declared. "it belongs to me, you see. we knew there would be little or no hunting on this trip, as the season for protection in north carolina is on. but not wanting to be without some sort of arms, it was decided to carry just one shotgun. later on we expect to spend some time up in maine; and then it'll be all right for us to carry rifles for big game shooting. one of our members comes from maine, and knows all about it up in that region." thad talked at length, because he saw that somehow the sound of his voice seemed to have a soothing effect on the rough mountaineer. evidently phin dady had taken more or less of a fancy to the leader of the scouts. he had known many boys in his day, and perhaps had one or two of his own; but they were like bear cubs in comparison with this frank-faced youth, with the winning smile, and a whole dictionary of words at the tip of his tongue. by now the balance of the boys had managed to recover from their fright. they even began to show an interest in the conversation, though not venturing to say a word unless thad appealed directly to one of them; as he did occasionally, to corroborate something he had declared. it was a scene they would none of them be apt to forget in a long time--this untamed old mountaineer sitting there by their camp-fire, asking questions in connection with a subject that had aroused his keenest curiosity; while they lounged around, listening, and drinking in what was said. would he never go? had he then determined to wait for the return of the eighth scout? perhaps he suspected already the identity of bob quail. this was a matter that gave thad considerable concern, for it meant immediate trouble for their comrade; since the moonshiner might have his old-time enmity for the quail family revived, under the impression that bob's coming meant danger for himself. once allan arose, and stepped outside the circle of firelight. the mountaineer eyed him with just a trifle of the old suspicion apparently rising again; for thad could see a nervous twitch to the brown hands that caressed the stock of the repeating rifle. but if this were so, phin dady must have realized that he could have little or nothing to fear from one stripling of that species; for he immediately relapsed into his former careless attitude. thad could give a pretty good guess what it was that caused allan to walk beyond the camp toward the place from which they had earlier in the evening watched the lights appear in the home of reuben sparks, as well as the few more humble cabins across the little valley. before bob went away he had arranged a series of flash signals, by means of which he could communicate with his comrades of the patrol. they would not have been true boy scouts if they had not before now learned how to wigwag with flags, or lanterns, as well as use a looking-glass in the sun in heliograph telegraphy. and so allan, desirous of ascertaining whether all went well with the absent chum, was now starting out, lantern in hand, to learn whether he could get in communication with bob. possibly some of phin's followers might be in hiding close by, and witness these maneuvers with astonishment, not unmixed with suspicion. thad concluded that it would be best to take the bull by the horns. if he confided in old phin, the other was apt to discount the news when told by his men. "you remember that i told you," he remarked, "how boy scouts are taught to send messages by waving flags, just as they do in real armies; and at night time by means of lighted lanterns. well, we never lose a chance to practice; and the boy you saw go out just now arranged to talk with the one who is across the valley." "huh!" grunted the mountaineer; and from that thad concluded that he had allayed any suspicions that may have arisen in his mind. "if you'd care to see how it's done, why, we can walk out, and watch the scout who has the lantern?" the patrol leader went on to say; though secretly hoping old phin might not evince enough interest to disturb himself. sometimes a bold move serves better than extreme caution. it seemed so in this case, at least, for the moonshiner, after making a slight move, as though to get up, appeared to think better of it, for he settled back again. "i kin understand jest 'bout how it air dun, younker," he said. "now tell me some more 'bout how yuh larn thet thar thing o' savin' a pal thet's been nigh drownded, or else cut a artery in his leg with a ax. i reckon now, that's 'bout the neatest trick i done ever heard on." being brim full of the subject, which always appealed to him more than he could tell, the young patrol leader immediately launched out into a description of the matters that seemed to have deeply interested even this rough old mountaineer. then he went a step further, and told how the scouts entered into the most amusing, as well as profitable, competitions among themselves. he described a water boiling test, where those in competition are given just three matches, and with an empty tin pail in hand, start at a signal to see which one can build his fire, fill his tin vessel at least two-thirds full of water, and have this actually boiling. perhaps that old moonshiner never spent a more interesting hour or so than by the camp-fire of the boy scouts; at any rate he certainly could not look back to one that must have been more profitable to him in every way. finally he arose as if to go; and about the same time allan returned, with the lighted lantern in his hand. "did yuh git him?" asked old phin, with some show of eagerness. "yes, we held quite a little talk, and i guess he must have used up a handful of matches telling me what a pleasant time he had. right now he's on his way to camp, and ought to get here inside of an hour." allan said this as though there could not be anything to conceal. he took a leaf from the example set by thad. the latter knew that in all probability there had been more to the wigwag talk than allan chose to state; but he was willing to wait until a more propitious time to hear it. taken in all, he believed they had come through the operation of baiting phin dady much better than any one could have expected. the old man was interested in what he had heard; and only for the fact that he bore a deadly hatred for the family of young bob quail, they would have little to fear from the king of the moonshiners, whose influence among the other mountaineers was such that he could easily sway them one way or the other at will. thad caught a wink when he looked into the face of the maine boy. it told him that allan had news to tell, which bob had sent on ahead, knowing how anxious his chums would be to hear whether he had met with any measure of success or not in his undertaking. when thad turned around again he found that old phin had slipped away, taking advantage of their attention being directed for a minute toward the scout who had just come into camp with the lantern swinging at his side. and thad heaved a sigh of genuine relief when he found that this was so. chapter xiv. the return of the eighth scout. "he's gone!" exclaimed bumpus; and it would have been hard to tell whether relief or regret lay back of his words; for some of the boys, forgetting the peril that might hang over the head of bob white, did the moonshiner know of his presence, and his mission to the blue ridge, only considered the entertainment afforded by having old phin at their fire. "and i guess the old feller's got enough information in his head to last him a long spell," remarked giraffe. "say, p'raps he's seriously considerin' starting a troop of boy scouts here in the blue ridge country," suggested step hen, who sometimes did have brilliant ideas flash through his brain. there was considerable of a laugh at this proposition, which struck the boys as about as absurd as anything they had heard for a long time. "wonder how our real scoutmaster, dr. philander hobbs'd like to take the job?" chuckled davy jones. "he thought he had trouble enough on his hands when he ran up against a few hard cases, like giraffe and step hen here; but they'd be just pie alongside the strappin' mountain kids we've seen." "well," remarked thad, "you never can tell what might happen. even those boys have got something in them that can be brought out, if only one knows how to go about it. don't you forget, fellows, that some of the greatest men this country has ever known, were born among the mountains. and right now there may be a future president of the united states within ten miles of where we sit." "hear! hear!" cried step hen, pretending to clap his hands in applause. "huh! nearer than that, mebbe," declared bumpus, mysteriously swelling out his chest and looking every inch the hero; "how would the name of cornelius jasper hawtree sound to you? we've never had a president hawtree; but that ain't no reason we never will, is it? tell me that." "give it up," sang out davy jones. "anyhow, it'd sound more distinguished than plain jones," retorted bumpus. "my name isn't plain jones, it's david alexander constantine josephus, and a few more that, to tell the honest truth; i've forgot," the other went on. thad and allan drew apart from all this mimic warfare, in which the fun-loving scouts liked to indulge from time to time. "then you did talk with bob?" asked the former, with some show of eagerness in his voice. "yes," replied allan, "it was great fun too. waited a little while before i could get the first answer to all my waving; but in the end i saw a flash, like a match had been struck, and then we got in touch." "what did bob have to tell?" asked the patrol leader. "he met his little cousin, all right, just as they had arranged," allan went on to say. "and she must have told him something that has made our chum wild with delight, for he says the trip paid him twenty times over. just what it was he didn't try to tell me, saying it would have to keep till he got to camp." "well, we can give a pretty good guess what it must be," thad observed. "you mean that bertha has looked, and made a discovery among the papers in her guardian's safe; is that it, thad?" "just about; but we'll have to quit guessing, and just wait till he comes in," said the scoutmaster, who knew just how to take a grip upon himself, and appear patient, where some of the other boys would have fretted, and worried greatly. "he oughtn't to be more'n an hour, at the most," suggested allan. "not unless something happens to him, which we hope it won't," replied thad. "you don't think now, do you," demanded the other, "that old phin might take a notion to waylay him, just to have a look at the eighth scout?" "i've thought of that, but made up my mind that so far the moonshiner can have no suspicion who bob is. and that being the case, allan, you can see he wouldn't be apt to bother himself to lie in wait for him. i hope not, anyhow. it'd sure upset some of the plans we're trying so hard to fix. and it might spell trouble with a big t for bob." "he's a good fellow, all right," remarked allan, not in the least jealous because his particular chum seemed drawn more than ever toward the southern boy. "that's right," answered thad, quickly; "and we've just got to stand back of him, no matter what happens. i guess that if some of the boys' parents had had even half a suspicion that we'd run up against such a combination as this, they wouldn't have given their consent so easily to our coming!" "i suppose that would have been the case with bumpus and several others," the maine boy went on; "but i've seen so much of this sort of thing up in the pine wood that it isn't new to me. not that it doesn't give me a thrill, all right, whenever i think of what we're doing here, and how we had that man sitting at our fire, the worst moonshiner of the whole blue ridge, i guess. and thad, you did give him a treat, the way you talked. i could see that he took considerable stock in all you said. and you opened his eyes some, believe me, with all the wonderful things you reeled off." "wonderful to him, allan, but the plain every day truth to the rest of us. but i've always heard that there is a spark of good even in the worst man living; and perhaps his weakness for boys may be the soft spot in old phin dady, the moonshiner's heart." they presently went back to the others, and joined in the general conversation, which, quite naturally enough, was pretty much confined to the visit of the mountaineer, what he had spoken about, his suspicions, and above all the strange interest he had taken in thad's account of the boy scout movement. "hello! there!" said a voice; and they saw bob white stalk into camp. one look at the face of the southern boy told thad that he had indeed made a profitable trip, for he saw a smile there, such as had seldom marked it in the past. they quickly made room for him by the fire; while several of the boys scouted around, to make sure that no spies lurked in the undergrowth, listening to all that was said. the fire crackled merrily, and looked very cheerful, as the ring of faces turned inquiringly toward bob white. he knew they were anxious to hear what he had accomplished; and, as there were no longer any secrets to be kept from the balance of the patrol, all having been taken into his confidence, the southern boy hesitated no longer. "i found no trouble getting across the valley," he began; "though once i had to lie low, when two men passed by. from what i heard them say, i knew they were some of the moonshiners, and that they had been ordered to take up positions somewhere, and stand guard. they seemed to be all at sea about the nature of the danger, and yet when old phin gave the alarm, they knew what they had to do." "we ought to tell you in the start, bob," said thad, "that we had phin dady sitting right where you are now; and that he stayed more than a full hour in camp." "yes," broke in bumpus, "and filling up on the stuff thad gave him, all about the heaps of things boy scouts are supposed to do. he liked it, too, sure as you live, old phin did; and we reckon he's got a sneakin' notion of startin' a troop right here, some fine day." bob white appeared to be astonished, and demanded to hear the whole story before he went on with his own experiences. this was presently told, and the one who had been absent at the time looked thoughtful when he heard the conclusion. "it may work for good, who knows?" he remarked, as though speaking to himself. "he's a strange man, is old phin; a hard case in most ways; but p'raps now he has got a soft spot in his flinty old heart for boys. he's a daughter of his own but no sons. and that kind of men generally take to boys best." "if they do, it's because they don't know what boys are like," suggested bumpus. "now go on and tell us what you did," observed thad. "was your cousin at the place you told her about?" "yes, it was a little arbor in the garden that i knew well," remarked bob, tenderly. "she was right glad to see me again, suh; and while she wouldn't tell me all i wanted to know, i'm mighty sure reuben sparks is cruel to her. she has been anything but happy; and always dreamin' of the time when i'd come back to see her, and take her to my mother." "did she do what you asked her?" asked thad, seeing that bob was apt to lose the thread of his narrative in letting his thoughts stray back to his meeting with little bertha, whom he loved like a sister. "she did, suh, took a chance to peep through some of the papers in the safe of mistah sparks; and believe me, she gave me a shock when she said there was one hidden in a little compartment, that seemed to have been signed by her own father. i asked her some more questions, and i'm almost sure that it's a will which reuben sparks kept hidden away, but which something or other has prevented him from destroying these four years and more, since my uncle died." "if you only could get that in your hands, and it turned out to be all you think, seems to me you might do about what you wanted with old reuben," thad remarked. "given another day, and good luck, suh, and i surely expect to have the same in my possession. then i can shape my plans; but one thing sure, my cousin will go back to cranford with me!" and bob smote the palm of his left hand with his doubled right fist, to emphasize his remark. no one seemed a particle sleepy. indeed, they had never been more wide awake in their lives. even davy jones, filled with the spirit of mischief that seemed to take possession of him every once in so often, climbed the tree under which they had built their camp-fire, and swung himself from limb to limb; now with his hands but just as frequently by his toes; as though he wanted to prove the truth of what that learned professor by the name of darwin always declared, that we were descended from a race of monkeys. the rest were lying around in the most comfortable attitudes they could find. "oh! say, come down out of that, davy; you make me tired with your everlasting pranks. take a drop, won't you, please?" called out bumpus. hardly had he spoken than there was a whoop, and davy landed squarely in the middle of the now smouldering fire, sending the brands to the right and to the left in a hurricane of sparks. the seven scouts threw themselves backward to avoid contact with the scattered red embers, while davy scrambled out of his fiery bed with furious alacrity. chapter xv. the flickering torch talk. "put me out! somebody give me a rub down the back! i'm on fire!" nobody doubted davy's excited words, as he danced wildly about, slapping first at a smouldering spark on the right leg of his khaki trousers; and then furiously attacking another burning spot on the sleeve of his coat; only to throw his campaign hat down, and jump on it, under the belief that it was threatened with immediate destruction. some of the other scouts had managed to scramble to their feet about this time; and seeing that they were not in danger themselves, could afford to lend a hand in order to save the garments of the unlucky jones boy. "now your suit's a fine sight!" ejaculated step hen. "perfectly dreadful!" remarked smithy, with a shudder; for to the mind of this member of the patrol, with his ideas of what neatness stood for, no punishment could have exceeded such a catastrophe as the one that had overtaken davy. but after finding that his neck had not been dislocated by his fall; and that, while there would be a few holes here and there about his clothes, they were still fairly presentable, davy only grinned with his customary good nature. "you certain sure _are_ the limit;" declared bumpus, surveying the other with a frown on his rosy face. "better grow a tail, and be done with it. then you could take your monkey-shines to the woods, where they'd be appreciated." "now that's what i call the unkindest cut of all," replied davy. "i leave it to the crowd if i wasn't only obeyin' orders? didn't you call out to me to come down? well, didn't i?" "huh! but you needn't a spilt our fire that way," grumbled bumpus, who however was secretly just as much amused over the affair as any of the rest. "when i say 'come down' you needn't think i mean for you to obey as fast as that. reckon you must a tried some dodge that wasn't as easy as it looked, and you lost your grip." "here's what did it for me," said davy, stooping, and picking up a piece of broken limb, which thad remembered seeing fall at the same time the boy scattered the embers of the fire. "rotten as punk, and went back on me. but don't you believe for a minute because i was hangin' head down right then, i struck that way. easiest thing in the world to turn a flip-flap in the air. i sat down in that fire; that's why my pants got the worst of the burns. and say, do i limp when i walk, because i'm feeling a little sore?" "not much more'n usual," remarked bumpus, cheerfully. this ridiculous adventure on the part of davy set them all to talking again. of course previous efforts in the same line, and, carried out by the same artist, had to be hauled out of their concealment, and made to do duty again, with sundry additions; for what story can there be but what is strengthened every time it is told? so many strange things were taking place all around them that it was little wonder the boys declared they did not feel a bit sleepy, even when the patrol leader told them they ought to lie down and get some rest. "and when everything else fails," declared step hen, "why, davy, here, can always be counted on to furnish music for the band." "yes, waltz music," added giraffe; "anyway, that's what he thought he was giving us, the way he kicked around. p'raps, now, he believed he was doing the turkey trot, all by himself." but to all these taunts davy made no response. truth to tell he seemed to be the sleepiest member of the set, and was seen to yawn numerous times. in this way he managed to start some of the others going, so that by degrees they were all exhibiting evidences of wanting to give up. then there came the job of trying to make themselves fairly comfortable. they had considered this matter before, and settled upon plans for the campaign. there would be no cabin roof over their heads on this night, only the branches of the big tree; but since there seemed little likelihood of rain falling, they did not think they would miss this. it was the bed part that gave them the most trouble. they had scoured the immediate vicinity, and each scout had secured whatever he could lay his hands on in the shape of weeds, or grass, or even small branches from the tree--anything to make the ground seem a bit softer to his body. one liked this spot, while another had entirely different ideas; but coached by allan, who knew all about sleeping out without shelter, they one and all kept their feet toward the fire, because that was the part first affected by the cooling night air. several of them were already stretched out, for while they had arranged a system of sentry duties, allan was to take the first spell. he and thad stood looking at the actions of the other scouts as they moved their rude beds here and there, striving to find spots where there were no roots sticking up, that would poke into their sides or backs. "they're a great bunch, all told!" remarked allan, with a wide smile, as he saw bumpus slily stealing some of the bed of step hen, whose back was toward him, adding it, handfuls at a time, to his own scanty stock. "the finest ever," added thad, warmly. "i don't see how we could have improved on this patrol, if we'd searched through cranford with a fine tooth comb. every one of them has his failings, just as all of us do; but they're as loyal and happy-go-lucky a lot of boys as ever any one knew. and allan, i expect we'll have some glorious times ahead of us, if we go up into maine with you, later on. that hasn't been fully settled yet, you understand; the question of expense has to be met, as well as getting away from our school, if it takes up by the middle of september. but we're all hoping, and pulling for it just as hard as we can." "won't it be great now," allan went on to say, "if bob does find that paper he thinks reuben's been keeping all these years, when he hadn't ought to have let it stay unburned a minute? what d'ye suppose makes a smart scamp like that ever do such a silly thing?" "i couldn't tell you, only i've heard my guardian say more than a few times that the cleverest scoundrel is apt to make a blunder. if that's true then i guess this reuben made his when he kept that paper, just to look at it once in a while, and shake hands with himself over his cuteness." "will you take a little stroll around with me before lying down?" asked allan, who was to have the first watch. "might as well," returned the other, casting a glance over toward the balance of the patrol, still squirming more or less, as they tried to make comfortable nests for themselves. "by that time, perhaps they'll be asleep, and i can drop off without being made to listen to bumpus' complaining, when step hen takes back his stolen goods. come along, then, allan." they first of all walked back along the road in the direction whence they had come to the strange valley where reuben lived, a half-way station between the secret haunts of the moonshiners, and civilization. "what's that up yonder; looks to me like a torch moving?" remarked thad, as he elevated his head, so as to gaze upward, along the face of the mountain. "it _is_ a torch, right you are," allan went on to say; "somebody must be picking his way along among those rocks. i'd think he'd sure need a good light on such a black night as this." "but i guess you're wrong about that," thad added, quickly; "see, he's waving his light, now back, and again forward, just so many times. there, he gives it a downward flash that must mean the end of a word; and then he goes on." "why, to be sure, it's as plain as anything that he's signalling to somebody on the other mountain. yes, thad, look there, and you can see another light move in answer to that first one." "even that don't seem to be all," remarked the patrol leader, seriously. "here's a third light back of us; and upon my word i can see a fourth ever so far off." "looks like all the moonshiners in the mountains might be out in force, and having a jolly old talk among themselves. wonder what they find to talk about?" allan hazarded. "chances are ten to one it's us they're discussing," said thad. "old phin like as not, is giving his orders. thought he grinned a little when i was telling how scouts communicated with each other. he knew all about that, the sly old rascal did; and this has been going on for years and years before boy scouts were ever heard of." "thad, they're all around us; we're surrounded by these moonshiners, with their handy guns; and if old phin says we've got to stay up here in the mountains, why, it's going to be a case of being marooned for us. we don't dare run, because they'd take that for a sure evidence of guilt, and pepper us for all that's out. so, there's nothing to be done but stick it out, seems to me." "well, we ought to be satisfied," remarked thad, grimly. "marooned or not, it was our intention to stay around here until bob had settled those two matters of importance that fetched him down this way." "sure, i'd pretty nigh forgotten that," declared the maine boy, more cheerfully. "so let the mountain men shake their blessed old torches at each other all they choose, and tell how the trap is to be made snug as all get-out; we'll just play the innocent, and try to find out what we want to know. shall we go back to camp now, thad?" "just as you say," returned the other. "nothing more to see out this way. we know that old phin isn't ready to look on us as friends yet. he can't get over the suspicions the sight of our khaki uniforms woke up in his soul. but so far we hadn't ought to complain with the way things have gone. hope it'll keep on to the end; and that our bob will get all he aims for, find his daddy, and take the little girl cousin back to cranford with him." "and if it all goes to the good, say, p'raps we won't have a feather to stick in our hats, all right, thad! we'll never get over talking about this thing. but will it go straight; that's the question?" "you never can tell," replied the other, softly, and encouragingly. "we're going to do our level best; and leave the rest. good-night, allan; wake giraffe at the end of an hour, and caution him to keep a good watch. i come next in line, you know." with these parting words thad stepped softly into camp, glanced at the various forms of the scouts stretched in favorite positions, some even lying on their backs; and then with a smile the patrol leader lay down upon the rude bed he had made for himself, out of such material as offered. in five minutes he was asleep, and forgetful of all the strange events that had marked their strenuous hike into the mountains of the old north state. chapter xvi. climbing the mountain. "hey! what's all this mean; morning, and nobody woke me up, to let me stand my trick at the wheel! i don't think you're treatin' me fair, that's what, fellers!" and bumpus hawtree sat up, rubbing his eyes as he looked around him in wonder. the fact of the matter was it had been decided that they could get on very well without calling on the fat boy to stand sentry duty. most of them knew how unreliable bumpus was when it came to such things, no matter how sincere his desire to please might be; and thad had secretly arranged to leave him out. and so bumpus had not known a single thing of what was going on until, smelling the delightful fumes of boiling coffee, he had opened his eyes to find most of his comrades moving about, and breakfast well on the way, under the supervision of giraffe and allan. "the whole blessed night gone, and me a sleepin' for all get-out," complained the stout member of the patrol, as he climbed to his feet, and stretched. "well, it looks good, anyway. nothin' happened, after all. nobody ain't been kidnapped by the moonshiners, have they, because i can count--what, there don't seem to be only seven here! somebody's gone, and yet i don't miss any familiar face." "oh! you only forgot to count yourself, bumpus," laughed thad. "well, that goes to show how modest i am, you see," chuckled the other, as he started toward the spring to get the sleep out of his eyes by the use of some cold water. "yes, as modest as a spring violet," sang out step hen; "but how about that president cornelius jasper hawtree business? seems to me any feller that hopes to assume that high office ain't so very retiring after all." but bumpus refused to be drawn into any discussion of his merits as a candidate, at least so early in the morning. he came back presently, asking for a towel, which he had forgotten to carry along with him. but as breakfast was announced just about that time, everything else was forgotten in the pleasant task of appeasing their clamorous appetites. while they ate they talked, and many were the schemes invented by some of the ingenious scouts, all looking to the undoing of the enemy, as they chose to consider the combination of reuben sparks and old phin dady. bob asked that they remain over one more night in that camp, and there was not a dissenting voice raised. they were fairly comfortable, and their haversacks still held a certain amount of food; though thad did say some of them ought to go skirmishing in the direction of the houses across the valley, to see if there was a chance for buying fresh eggs; breakfast bacon; salt pork; or even grits, as the finer grade of hominy is universally called throughout the entire south. as for bob and himself, thad had laid out a little campaign for the day. he believed that it might pay them to climb up the side of the mountain. this would be looked upon by any of old phin's followers, should they see the boys, as in keeping with what the patrol leader had told the moonshiner about the doings and ambitions of boy scouts. there need not be anything suspicious about such a move, when thad had time and again declared that one of the main objects of their selecting this part of the country for their hike, had been the desire to climb mountains. as to the benefits to be gained, they could at least have a good birdseye view of the entire region, the queer bowl-shaped little valley, at the further end of which nestled the pretentious house of reuben sparks, and the nearby cabins; as well as the back trail. besides, possibly they might get some sort of information with regard to what the moonshiners were doing. most of these men lived in the little ramshackle cabins they had occasionally passed on the mountain road; where a few hens, a razor-back hog or two, and possibly a slab-sided mule, constituted the sole possessions of the poor whites. but then, others doubtless had homes deeper in the depths of the great elevations that reared their rocky heads heavenward. these were the parties who, like old phin himself, were in demand by the authorities, and who wanted to take as few chances of arrest as possible. no revenue men could very easily come into that well-watched region without the keen eyes of a mountaineer noticing him. and often the crack of a rifle would be the first sign the daring man might have that he was discovered. bob was only too glad of a chance to get off in the company of thad. he wanted to talk over matters with the other very much, and find out just what the patrol leader thought about the situation. so, as they climbed steadily, though slowly, upward, they chatted in low tones. thad had warned his comrade that they must imagine an enemy back of every tree, and act accordingly, so as not to betray themselves by unwise talk. it was rough going. plenty of times they had to pull themselves up by main muscular strength, over some rocky obstruction. then again, perhaps they would have it comparatively easy for a brief interval. "here's a plain trail leading upward," remarked thad, whose eyes had been on the lookout all the time. "suppose we follow it some. chances are it'll be easier going, because whoever lives up here would know the softest road." "that's true," assented bob; "but we'd best not keep on this same trail too long." "why not?" asked the other, looking around at his chum. "you must know that it sure leads, sooner or later, to some hidden cabin of a man who's got some pretty good reason for keeping away from the beaten road." "yes, i guessed that the first thing; and i suppose you mean he'd feel angry some if he saw two fellows in uniform following his trail?" thad suggested. "angry--well, that hardly covers the ground," chuckled bob. "when these mountain men don't like a thing they start to shooting right off the handle. never waste time, suh, in asking questions; they judge things as they see them, and act accordingly. and believe me, thad, when their guns speak, generally something goes down." "well, on the whole i think what you said carries so much weight with me, bob, that i've lost pretty much all interest in this same trail. it don't look near so attractive as it did; and i wouldn't be surprised if we'd make better time just keeping on straight up the face of the old hill." they looked at each other, and laughed softly, as though it was mutually understood what meaning thad intended to convey back of his words. all the same the dangerous beaten track was immediately forsaken, and once more they set out to climb straight upwards. occasionally bob, who seemed more at home in this thing than his companion, as he had lived among the mountains most of his young life; would discover that by taking a side cut they could avoid a hard climb, and in that event the direct line was changed to an oblique one. the view was at times a fine one, with a stretch of the wild country spread out before them like a panorama. then again for a quarter of an hour or more they would be unable to see anything, on account of the formation of the mountainside, or it might be the presence of thick foliage on the small trees growing in profusion all around them. "so far we haven't seen the first sign of a living thing?" remarked thad, when they halted to get their breath. "that's a fact, suh," agreed bob white, "but we mustn't make up our minds that we haven't been followed and watched at all times. these mountain men can climb like goats, suh. it would make you stare to see one of them go up a cliff that neither of us could dream of climbing. they could keep us in sight right along, and believe me, we would never know a thing about it." "i can easily understand that, bob. but it's some wilder up here than ever i believed possible. i saw squirrels in plenty as we came along; some birds flushed from alongside that bank that must have been partridges; and right here's a bunch of feathers, showing where some animal had a fine supper not long since." thad dropped down beside the telltale feathers that marked the end of a game bird, and seemed to be examining the ground. a minute later he looked up. "i'm not as dead sure about this thing as allan would be," thad remarked; "but it doesn't look like fox tracks to me. the claws are too well defined; and i'm of the opinion that it might have been a wildcat, if you happen to have such beasts here in the heart of the blue ridge." "i reckon we do, suh, and mighty fierce fellows too," the southern lad made answer promptly; "i've myself met with one when out hunting, and got him too, though he gave me a heap of trouble; and i was sore from the scratches a whole week or so. no doubt you're right, and it was a cat; though i'm surprised that he ate his catch on the ground, instead of in the crotch of a tree." "perhaps he was too hungry to wait; or the bird tasted so good he just had to pitch in right away," suggested thad, picking up one of the feathers, and sticking it in the cord of his campaign hat, boy fashion. "it's getting pretty nigh dinner time," observed bob, as he felt for the package of food he had thrust into one of his pockets before starting out, upon the suggestion of the patrol leader, who did not know just how long a time they might be gone. "yes, and i suppose we've come up about as far as we ought," thad added, himself feeling the vigorous climb the more because his muscles were not used to anything of that sort. "so, let's drop down right where we are. it's a good enough lunching place. the cat thought so, you can see." they soon settled in comfortable places, each with a tree to lean his back against while he munched the dry sandwiches that had been hurriedly put together, a little potted ham between crackers, with a slice of cheese thrown in for good measure. the sun felt warm overhead, but the atmosphere at this altitude was bracing and refreshing indeed, as mountain air always is. the boys, as they ate, talked incessantly, covering the ground of what they hoped to accomplish, if fortune were only kind enough to favor them, and the moonshiners to allow them to leave the mountains in peace. bob was explaining that after all it might be well for him to divide his mission into two parts, and get bertha disposed of, before thinking of trying to find whether the mysterious prisoner of the moonshiners could really be his dear father, when their conversation was interrupted by a scream from a point close by. the two boys sprang to their feet, and looked at each other blankly. "that was a girl called out, bob!" exclaimed thad. "we can't tell but what it may be a trap of some kind, but that's a chance we've just got to take. come on, and we'll soon see what it means!" chapter xvii. in luck again. bob was quite as eager as his companion to hurry forward and see what that cry of a girl's voice might mean. whoever heard of a southern boy unwilling to act in similar circumstances? the two of them had noted the quarter from whence the shrill scream came, and were making a bee line for it as fast as the rough nature of the ground permitted. "keep back, thar, you ugly critter! don't you dar jump at me! oh! if i could on'y git free, i'd show you!" they heard just beyond the fringe of bushes. bursting through these, and the scene lay before them. it was a girl, a real mountain girl too, who had called out. she was half bent over, as though trying all her might to wrench her foot free, for it seemed to be caught in a crevice of the rock, as in a vise. not ten feet away from her crouched an ugly wildcat. its ears were bent backward toward its body; the yellow eyes seemed to glow with an ugly fire; and there could be no doubt but that the animal was getting ready to jump at the girl, possibly angered by the red sunbonnet she wore. she had managed to pick up a stone, with which she was ready to do battle in case the cat really attacked her. thad saw this, and admired her grit, even though he believed that she would have suffered dreadfully, had the fight ever come off. bob gave a cry of rage as he saw what it all meant. he too snatched up a stone, and made directly for the wildcat, as though such a thing as fear did not enter into his calculations. and thad, a little wiser, seeing an excellent club handy, made out to get that in his grip ere following his chum. despite the coming of these two new enemies the wildcat showed no sign of beating a retreat. there may have been some reason for this unexpected bravery on the animal's part. usually it is only when darkness comes that bobcats are dangerous; and in the daytime they will generally retreat before the coming of human foes. there may have been kittens somewhere close by; and a mother cat will attack anything that moves in defense of her offspring. but just then thad was not bothering himself with trying to understand why the fierce beast acted in that altogether remarkable way. what they wanted to do was to influence the animal to leave the neighborhood, and the quicker this were done the better they would be pleased. "go slow, bob!" thad called out, fearful lest his impulsive comrade dash up so close that in another instant the cat would be upon him, clawing, biting, and doing all manner of damage. he swung his club in as ferocious a manner as he could, and made all sorts of threatening gestures as he rushed forward. thinking that if they approached from two separate quarters the beast might grow more or less confused, and possibly slink away, thad did not follow directly in the track of his friend, but made a little detour. bob came to a pause. he was not more than a dozen feet away from the beast now, and there was danger that if he closed in any more the expected collision must take place. thad saw him draw his arm back. undoubtedly bob meant to hurl the heavy rock he had snatched up. if he missed his aim, he would then be entirely unprotected. but then bob had pitched on a baseball team several seasons, and was said to have a very clever delivery, with the faculty of getting the ball over the rubber with clock-like precision. and a crouching wildcat, only a dozen feet away, is a large enough object to be counted a sure thing by an experienced ball player. so even as thad looked and wondered, he saw bob let drive. and when the rock actually struck the cat between its glaring eyes, hurling it over backwards, thad could not help letting out a yell. "good shot, bob!" he cried. "get another, quick, for he's coming after you like hot cakes!" he himself was closing in on the cat all the time he shouted after this manner. in another moment they were all in a confused bunch, the enraged and wounded wildcat screaming and snarling; thad pounding away every chance he got; bob kicking wildly at the animal, as he looked for a chance to get hold of another stone; and the whole making quite a lively circus. several times thad landed with such a will on the side of the springing wildcat that the wretched beast was knocked clean over. but with a desperation that was simply astonishing it would get together, and come flying back again, as though it really possessed the nine lives its tribe is given credit for. of course this could not last long. the game was too one-sided, with two against one; and in the end the cat was glad to jump into the bushes, with a parting expression of hatred in the form of a snarl. the panting boys stood and looked at each other. each of them had a few rents in their khaki trousers; and might have been served even worse only that their puttees protected the lower part of their limbs. "whew! that was a hot time!" gasped thad. "did you see how many times i bowled the thing over, and only to have to defend myself again? give me a mad wildcat for gameness. they haven't their equal going, pound for pound." "and i hit him when i threw that stone; i'm proud of that shot, suh!" declared the southern boy, with a grim smile. "say, it was a right smart throw, all right; but s'pose yuh come and help me outen this trap now, strangers," came from the mountain girl. as they turned toward her, and advanced, thad saw immediately that she was not the little bertha whom he had looked upon, sitting beside reuben sparks, and with her golden hair, seeming very much like a fairy. this girl was slender, and with coarse, black hair. she was garbed in common homespun clothes, and wore shoes that were doubtless much too large for her feet. one of her ankles had been caught tightly in the crevice of the rock. she might have managed to extricate herself if given a little time; but the sudden appearance of that ugly fighting wildcat had upset her; so that she had twisted and squirmed until her foot was held as though in a blacksmith's vise. bob in his usual impetuous way might have been impelled to tug at that imprisoned foot, and add to her sufferings; but thad, who was cooler, set about discovering just how it was gripped; then, as gently as he could he gave it a sudden turn, and the thing was done. the girl uttered a little scream as a pain shot through her ankle; but then she realized that the way the boy had gone about it was the right one. results count every time. when a man succeeds, the path he has taken is looked upon as a shining example to the rising generation; should he fail, the same route is pointed out as beset with unsurmountable difficulties. "i'm right glad you kim along in time," the girl remarked, as her black eyes scanned the faces of the two boys who had done her such a good turn. "had you done anything to the cat; or was it just crazy for a fight?" asked bob, as he looked more closely at the angular girl; and thad thought he could detect that in his manner to tell he might have recognized her. "'pears like it was jest brim full of scrap, mister," she went on. "i was acomin' down ther side o' the mounting, paying 'tention to my own business, when i jest made er fool o' myself, like ye see, an' gut a foot fast atween the rocks. then the critter showed up, and started makin' a row. i tried all i knowed how to break loose, but it was no go. an' i was jest agwine to hit the animal atween the eyes if it jumped me, when you-uns arriv. but i'm glad ye kim. 'tain't nice to git yuh face all clawed to ribbands by cat's claws. yep, i'm glad ye helped me outen it." thad saw that she was a character, this girl of the blue ridge. rough and uncouth, she might be, still she possessed the qualities that real heroines were once made out of in the days of joan of arc. doubtless she must be the daughter of one of the poor "white trash" mountaineers who spend their time between making moonshine whiskey, and dodging revenue men. it struck thad at the moment that perhaps, since they had been enabled to do her a good turn, she might be willing to assist them. such a girl ought to know a good deal of what was going on back in the mountains. her people must talk about the strange things that happened; perhaps she might be able to even tell bob something about the prisoner who was said to be kept up there somewhere, working at the sour-mash in the never raided still of phin dady. with this bright idea in his mind thad decided that fortune had indeed played another nice trick upon them, and one that would perhaps be to their advantage. "do you live near here; and will you be able to limp home?" he asked; for he saw that the ankle was somewhat swollen, and must pain more or less; although the girl scorned to show it by her manner. "a right smart ways off from heah, stranger," she replied; "but then they be some o' my friends nigh this, who'll take keer o' me. ye did hit up that ere onary cat some handsome, an' i shore think it won't want to tackle a pore gal ther next time it sees one." "perhaps we might help you along to the home of your friends," said thad. she looked at him keenly, for even the daughters of moonshiners grow to be suspicious of those whom they do not know. "'tain't no need, stranger; i kin take keer o' myself, i reckon. not that i ain't feelin' 'bliged to ye, fur offerin'. i kain't furgit thet ye done me a good turn. mebbe i ain't good lookin' like thet leetle cousin o' yours, bob quail; but it's the on'y face i'll ever hev; and no gal likes to be scratched an' gouged bad by the pizen claws o' a wildcat." "will you tell your father about this, polly?" asked bob, excitedly, thad thought. "'pears like i hadn't orter keep it from him," she replied, slowly, watching the expressive and handsome face of the young southerner closely. "thems as don't think phin dady keers fur his fambly, but they don't know. reckons he'd jest 'bout lay down his life fur _me_, pore looker as i am!" thad drew a big breath. really things were rushing forward by leaps and bounds now. for not only had the girl recognized his companion, who wished to keep his identity under cover while in the mountains; but this same polly, as bob called her, had now disclosed herself to be the daughter of the moonshiner, old phin dady! chapter xviii. polly gives her promise. "i'm going to ask you a great favor, polly," said bob, earnestly. "then hit it up right smart, an' tell me," replied the girl, calmly, though thad could see her dark, expressive face light up. polly had her share of the curiosity that is the heritage of her sex. "you say you feel thankful that we happened along in time to drive that cat off; and you'd be willing to do something for us in return?" bob went on. "thet's right, bob quail," returned the girl of the mountains sturdily. "reckons as how it'd on'y be fair. what ye want me to do?" "first of all, please don't whisper it to anybody around here that i have come back," the boy asked in his earnest tones; "and least of all to your father. you know he used to feel right sore against all my family, because my father in trying to do his sworn duty by the government, ran up against the moonshine boys." "oh! thet's easy promised, bob quail," she replied, readily enough; "i kin keep a close tongue atween my teeth, ef i happens to be on'y a gal. but i kin see thet ain't all yer gwine to ask o' me." "but everything else hinges on that, polly," returned bob; "and i'm glad you'll forget that you saw one of the quail family. they're not in any too good odor in this part of the country. now, you're wondering, i reckon, why i ever dared come back, after two years. well, there were reasons that pulled me into the danger zone, polly. one of them was--bertha, my little cousin." polly smirked, and nodded her wise head. "i cud a guessed thet, bob quail," she remarked. "sumbody must a ben tellin' ye thet she ain't as happy as she mout be, thet's it. the old miser, he's cross as a bear with a sore head; an' i seen bertha with red eyes more'n a few times. i don't blame ye 'bout wantin' to do somethin'; though i reckons ye'll find it a up-hill job, w'en ye tackle thet old fox." "but there's a way to get him in a hole, and i believe i've found it," said bob. "only, if i'm chased out of the country before i can carry my plans through, you see, all my coming here wouldn't amount to a row of beans. that's one reason why i asked you to keep my secret. but there's another, polly." "yep, they's another," she repeated after him, with her dark eyes fixed on his face, as though she might be able to read what was passing in his mind, and in this way was prepared to hear his new disclosure. thad knew what his comrade meant to say. it was a big risk, but he believed it could be carried through. this girl was no ordinary creature; she had latent possibilities slumbering beneath the surface in her nature, that, as yet, had never been called upon to show themselves. besides, the girl was grateful to them for what they had done. "you haven't forgotten what happened here some years ago, polly," bob went on. "my father led a party of revenue men into these mountains, meaning to destroy the secret stills. he never came back. those who were with him said that he had been shot down in a fierce fight with the moonshiners; and that he had died almost instantly. you haven't forgotten that terrible time, polly, have you?" "i reckons not," she muttered, stirring uneasily. "well, somehow i never could get myself to believe that my father was really dead. i had one of the revenue men in my pay, and he used to write me every week or so. it was through him i first heard the rumor that the moonshiners were said to have a prisoner up at your father's still, who was kept constantly under guard, and made to work. they even said he was a revenue man; and that it was a part of the moonshiners' revenge to make him help manufacture the mountain dew, so as to pay up for the quantities he had destroyed in his raids. you've heard more or less about this, too, haven't you, polly?" "sure i has, bob quail," replied the girl. "polly, somehow i just can't get it out of my head that this mysterious prisoner of the mountains might be my own father; that he was badly wounded, and not killed in that fight; that the moonshiners nursed him back to health; and ever since he's been kept under guard. do you know if that is so? i ask you to tell me, because it would mean a great deal to me, and to my poor mother at home in the north." polly shook her head in the negative. "i jest can't say as to thet," she answered, soberly; "i done hears a heap 'bout some man as they has kep' a long time up thar, adoin' of the chores, an' never without a gun clost to his head; but i ain't never seed him. i gives ye my word on thet, bob quail." "but polly, you _could_ see him if you tried real hard, couldn't you?" the boy went on, in an anxious tone. she looked at him. the eager expression on poor bob's face would have moved a heart of stone; and polly was surely deeply touched. "i reckons i cud," she answered, steadily; while in her black eyes stole a glow that gave thad a curious feeling; for he began to believe that they had after all come upon an unexpected and valuable ally, right in the household of the chief enemy. "think what it means to me, polly," bob suggested, knowing how best to appeal to her sympathies. "put yourself in my place, and tell me what you would do if it was your own father who was held a prisoner, and you had long believed him dead? do you blame me for coming back to these mountains to try and learn the truth; and if it should turn out to be all i dream it may, of attempting in some way to bring about his release. would you blame me, polly?" "sure i wudn't, bob quail," she replied. "and will you help me find out?" he went on, feverishly. "seein's i owe ye a heap, 'case o' what ye done fur me this day, i'm gwine to say jest what ye wants me to," the girl returned. with an almost inarticulate cry bob seized her hand, and gave it a squeeze. "oh! you don't know how happy you've made me by saying that, polly!" he exclaimed. "and if it _should_ turn out to be my poor father, won't you try and help me get him free? he'll never come back here again to bother your people; i give you my word for that, polly, sure i do. will you help me do it?" "thet's asking a hull lot, bob quail," she muttered, doubtfully, as though she realized the magnitude of the task he would put upon her shoulders. "it's wantin' me to go agin my own dad. if so be thar is a revenue kep' up thar to the still, it's _his_ doin's. an' 'less he gives the word, thar ain't nobody dar's to let that man go free. an' now ye arsk me to play agin my own people. it's a big thing ye want done, bob quail. i dunno; i dunno!" but thad could see she was wavering. he believed that if bob only pressed his point he must win out. "listen, polly," and bob caught hold of her wrist as he spoke, as though to hold her attention better; "more than two long years this man has been held there, the sport and plaything of the moonshiners, and made to do their rough work. it must have broken his spirit sadly. and surely your father's desire for revenge should be wholly satisfied by now. think of my mother, mourning him as dead all this time, polly. just imagine her wonderful joy if he came back to her again alive and in the flesh! oh! don't talk to me about the risks i am running in just coming here; gladly would i put my life in danger ten times over, if i knew there was a chance to find him, and bring him home with me. that is what _you_ would do, polly; and perhaps some day, when sorrow and trouble come to you, i may be able to do you a good turn, even as you are going to do for me now; because something tells me you are, polly!" that settled it. bob had gone about the matter in just the right way to reach the moonshiner's daughter's heart. no doubt she often thought of the black day that might come at any time, when those never sleeping government agents would capture old phin, and he look a long sentence in the face. yes, it would be worth something to know that they had a friend in court when that time rolled around. "yes, i'm agwine to help ye, bob quail," she said, slowly. "i don't jest know yet how far i kin go; but anyways i'll promise to find out who thet prisoner up at the still kin be. then, mebbe i mout think it over, an' reckon as it's jest like ye sez, an' he's shore be'n punished enuff. thet's all i'll tell ye right now." "well, it's mighty fine of you to say as much as that, polly, and i want you to know i appreciate it more than i can tell you," the southern boy went on, his dark handsome face radiant with renewed hope, as his heart beat high in the belief that his loftiest dreams might after all come true. "i hope that foot won't keep you from walking?" thad thought to remark just then. this caused bob to remember that he had a chum near by, and he hastened to say: "this is one of my best friends, thad brewster, polly. we belong to the troop of boy scouts encamped down below. perhaps you have heard your father speak of them? he was in our camp more than an hour last night, and my chum here seemed to interest him a heap in telling all about what scouts aim to do in the world." "yep, i heerd 'bout hit," the girl replied, as she gave thad a short nod; "an' he shore was takin' sum stock in wat he done heerd. my dad, he allers liked boys better'n he did gals. lost three on 'em, he did, an' every one died with his boots on! but ye needn't git skeered 'bout this hyar foot ahurtin' me none. we knows what kin' o' stuff to put on a sprain, as'll take ther swellin' down right smart. see, i kin walk jest as good as i ever cud. an' i'll find out fur ye 'bout thet man up to the still, sure i will, bob." "when can i see you again, polly?" bob asked, anxiously. "you know time is worth a heap to me right now. say soon, please; sometime to-night, if you can; and it'll help a lot. i'll never be able to sleep a wink now till i know the truth." "mout as well put her through on ther lightnin' express as not," she replied. "i reckons i kin promise ye to-night. an' i knows whar yer camp lays, 'case i arsked my dad. thort i mout happen thet way, an' see what boys looked like as was dressed in smart close. it's gwine to be a hard job, seems like, an' mebbe i carn't git 'roun' till late, but i'll be thar, bob quail! ye done ther right thing by me, an' polly dady don't forgit." then turning her back on the two boys, the mountain girl swung herself along the rough face of the hillside with a perfect confidence in her ability to keep her footing that only a chamois might have exceeded. and thad, looking at his chum, saw that the other's face was wreathed in a smile such as had long been a stranger there. "the best day's work i ever did, thad!" exclaimed bob, as he seized his chum's hand, and squeezed it convulsively. "something just tells me polly is going to be my good fairy, and bring me the greatest gift that ever could be--the knowledge that my dear father lives." chapter xix. the silent vidette. "shall we go back the same way we came up?" asked thad, as they made a start toward returning to the camp down below. "i think i'd like to try another route," bob replied. "some of those places we hit were pretty tough climbing; and you know it's always harder going down, than up a mountain. seems to me we'll strike an easier way over to the right here." "my opinion exactly," thad declared, ready to fall in with anything which the other proposed, because he was interested heart and soul in the work bob had cut out for himself--trying to bring more of happiness into the life of little bertha, his cousin; and finding out whether his long-lost father was still in the land of the living. they had gone about half of the way, and found that, just as bob guessed, it was much easier than the other route would have proven, when thad made a discovery that gave him a little thrill. "there's a man, bob!" he exclaimed, suddenly. "where?" demanded the other, turning his head around; for he happened to be a trifle in advance of his companion at the time. "over yonder, on that rock, and of course with a rifle in sight; for you never see one of these mountaineers without that. i wouldn't be surprised to hear that some of them go to bed with their guns in their arms. do you see him now, bob?" "yes, and can understand why he's sitting there like that," replied the other, rather bitterly. "looks like he might have a touch of the fever and ague, and that with a spell of the shakes on, he wanted to sun himself," suggested thad; though he knew full well the true explanation was along other lines entirely. "he's doing sentry duty," remarked bob, soberly. "you can see, thad, that from where he lies he has a splendid view of the road we came over?" "that's a fact, and could even toss a rock down on it if he chose," continued the patrol leader. "i understood that, bob, and can guess why he was placed there by old phin dady." "i suppose they're all around us," remarked the southern boy, "and as i said last night, they've sure got us marooned, all right. we can't move without they're knowing it. oh! what sort of chance would i have to get him out of this awful country, even if it should turn out to be my father who is the prisoner of the moonshiners? thad, i reckon it's a forlorn hope after all." "well," remarked the other, seeing that bob needed cheering up again, "even if you only discover that he is alive, that will be great news alone. and when things get to coming your way the style they've been doing lately, believe me, you can hope for the best. keep your spirits up, bob. that girl is going to help us more than we ever dreamed of." "it _was_ great luck, our running across polly; and then the chance to do her a favor, could you beat it? reckon you're right, thad; and i'm foolish for letting myself look at the dark side, when things are breaking so splendidly for me." "that fellow doesn't seem to pay much attention to us, though i'm sure he knows we're going to pass him by," thad continued, in a lower voice. "i used to know a good many of the men around here, and this might be one of the lot; so i hadn't better take any chances of his seeing me too close in the daylight," and with this remark bob drew the brim of his hat lower over his face. the man never so much as moved, though the two descending boys passed within thirty feet of where he reclined on the rock, his face turned toward the road that wound in and out of the tangle far below. thad believed he could see a pair of sharp eyes under the man's hat, that kept watch over their movements; but there was no hail, or other sign of life from that sphinx-like figure stretched out at length on the sunny rock. should they have given the mountaineer cause for displaying any activity, no doubt he would be quick to take action. thad certainly did not want to strike up a conversation with so morose a man; and especially when his chum wished to keep aloof from him. so they continued along down the side of the mountain, and soon lost sight of the vidette. still, the circumstance left a bad feeling behind. it was far from pleasant for the boys to realize how completely they had put themselves in the power of these mountain moonshiners. just as bob had so bitterly declared, old phin ruled with an iron hand among the men who lived here among the uplifts; and once he had placed sentries on duty to watch the movements of the scouts, they could neither go forward nor retreat, unless that gaunt moonshiner crooked his finger. "i don't see how it can be done," bob broke out later, as they began to draw near the camp again; as though he had been wrestling with some subject, and reached a point where he needed counsel. "as what?" inquired his comrade. "work both ends of the affair at the same time," continued bob. "suppose, now, i find that the paper bertha has seen is the very one i've been hoping to get my hands on; and she comes to me to-night; how can i carry her away, and at the same time stay here to find out about the news polly will bring me?" "now, i'm glad you spoke of that, bob," thad declared; "because i've been trying to puzzle out that same thing myself. and i really believe i've hit the only answer." "then let me hear it, for goodness sake, please!" exclaimed the other, in a relieved tone; for he well knew that when thad brewster said a thing that way, he must feel pretty confident he had the right solution in hand. "just as you say, it would be next to impossible to take bertha away from here, and at the same time carry out your plans in connection with that other business. that is of the first importance, it seems to me, bob. this other about bertha can wait some, if it comes to it." "yes, it could, i suppose," admitted the other, slowly. "bertha is unhappy she says, and he treats her wretchedly; but then he is not really cruel to her. tell me your plan, thad, and i'll be ready to stand by it." "suppose, then, she brings you that paper, and it turns out to be all you hope for? you can take it away with you, and when we get back to asheville place it in the hands of some reliable lawyer, who will have reuben summoned to court with the girl. then she will never be allowed to go back with him again; and he may consider himself lucky if he gets off without being sent to jail for having withheld a lawful document, and replacing it with a false will, or one that was older." bob uttered a cry of delight. "it sure takes you to think up an answer to every hard, knotty problem, thad," he cried. "that is just the best thing ever, and i'm willing to try it. why, for me to take the law in my hands would be silly, when the courts will save me all the risk. and while i hate to disappoint poor little bertha, who believes i'm down here to carry her off, in spite of old reuben, she'll understand, and be willing to wait a bit. thank you over and over again, thad. i'm feeling a thousand per cent better, suh, after what you said." "and about the other thing, bob, i wouldn't let myself believe too strongly that this mysterious prisoner of the moonshiners will turn out to be your father. there were some other revenue men who have disappeared in the last few years, men who started into the mountains to learn things, and never came out again. it might be one of these after all. and i guess you'd be awfully disappointed if you set too much store on that thing." "i keep trying all i know how not to hope _too_ much, thad," replied the other, with a big sigh; "and tellin' myself that it would be too great news; yet, seems like there was a little bird nestlin' away down in here, that goes on singin' all the while, singin' like a mockingbird that brings good news," and bob laid a trembling hand on his breast in the region of his heart, as he spoke. "well," said thad, warmly, "i'm just hoping that everything'll come out the way you want, old fellow. we're going to back you up the best we know how; and if we fail to do what we aim for, it won't be from lack of trying." "i know that, and i'll never, never forget it as long as i live!" declared the other, almost choking in his emotion. "there's the camp," remarked thad, five minutes later, "and everything seems to be going along all right at the old stand. i can see step hen lying on his back, with his hat over his eyes as if he might be taking a nap; smithy is of course brushing his coat, because he has discovered some specks of dust on it that worry him; and if you look at giraffe, you'll know what he's up to when i tell you he's whittling at a piece of pine, to beat the band." "getting kindling ready to start up the fire, when supper time comes around," said bob, with a chuckle, as though some of these familiar sights began to do him good, in that they served to take his thoughts away from the things that distressed and worried him. when the two scouts arrived in camp they were immediately surrounded by their comrades, who demanded to know what they had seen and done. to judge from the variety of questions that showered upon them, one might think that thad and bob had been off on a regular foraging expedition, and scouring the upper regions in search of adventures. and indeed, they did have something to tell that made the others stare. the several little holes in their clothes, evidently made by sharp claws, gave evidence as to the truth of their wonderful story. and all of the stay-at-homes united in the fervent hope that polly dady might be grateful enough to bring bob the news he yearned to possess. several of the boys had been dispatched to the cabins across the valley, where they managed to purchase some dozens of eggs, but could get no bacon. they did secure a couple of fowls, however, which were even then plucked, and ready for the pot. as evening settled down soon afterward, the scouts prepared to make themselves as comfortable as the circumstances allowed. and certainly not one among them so much as dreamed that other peculiar events were on the calendar; ready to take their places upon the stage; and advance the interests of the fellow scout, whose yearning to look again on the familiar scenes of his younger years had influenced the others to hike through the blue ridge range. chapter xx. the awakening of step hen. "say fellers, did anybody see that----" step hen had just managed to get that far in what he was about to say, when he was rudely interrupted by a combined shout from giraffe, davy jones, and bumpus. "don't you dare accuse us of taking any of your old traps, step hen!" said the last named scout, severely. "we're sure gettin' awful tired of that war cry," declared giraffe. "it's always this thing or that he's lost, and never by his own fault at all. a sly little jinx is hoverin' around, ready to grab up a thing just as soon as step lays it down. still, i notice that every single time, it turns out he put it there himself. get a new tune for a change, step hen, and ring it on us." "by the way," remarked smithy, who was very polite, and never joined in the loud and boisterous jeers that greeted some break on the part of a comrade; "what fresh misfortune has overtaken you now, step hen?" "oh!" replied the other, with a broad grin, "when our funny friends broke in on me that way, i was only going to ask if any of you wide-awake scouts had noticed that i had my badge turned right-side up, early this morning?" there was a general laugh at this, even the three culprits joining in. among all boy scouts, it has become the proper wrinkle to turn the badge upside down to start the day; and the wearer has no right to change its position until he has done an actual good deed toward some one else; or even helped an animal that was in distress. many are the expedients resorted to, in order to gain this privilege; for it is deemed in bad taste to spend the entire day with the badge reversed on the lapel of the coat. a thousand ways can be found whereby the boy may feel that he has a right to alter the position of his badge, and prove that he had done something of a kindly nature, that is a credit to his character. an old woman may be helped across the street; a heavy basket carried for a child; a box that is trying the strength of a single man may be made easier to lift into a wagon by a pair of sturdy, willing hands; the harness that is galling the shoulder of a horse can be rendered less troublesome if a rag is doubled up, and fastened to the leather--well, the list of things that wide-awake scouts find in order to gain this privilege would really seem to be without end. so all the others now turned toward step hen, with curiosity expressed on their faces; for they seemed to guess that it could be no ordinary explanation that he meant to give them. "what wonderful stunt did you manage to carry through so early in the day, down in this forsaken country?" demanded giraffe. bumpus looked forlornly at his own badge, that still hung to his coat lapel in its reversed position; showing that he, at least, had not been able to discover any means of doing a good turn to some object, however humble; in fact, he had, like most of the other boys, entirely forgotten about the usual programme. there were no old ladies to help down here; no errands to run for mother; no problems to solve for little brother; nothing but the everlasting mountains rising grimly all about them, and silence lying on the scene like a great blanket. "i reckon i'm the only one in the bunch that's been smart enough to get his badge turned to-day," chuckled step hen, proudly exhibiting the article in question; "and i'd just like the fun of hearing all of you try and guess how i managed it; but then, i know you'd never hit on the truth in a thousand years; and so i s'pose i'll have to up and tell you." "oh! wake me up, somebody, when he gets really started," groaned giraffe; "of all the slow-pokes, step hen takes the cake." "i'll tell you," began the other, with a sly look toward the speaker, as though he purposely delayed his disclosure in order to annoy the impatient giraffe; "you see, it was this way, fellows. i happened to be walking out along the back road just after we'd done breakfast. thought i'd dropped my handkerchief somewhere, but afterwards i found it inside my hat, you know." "sure, it's always that way," muttered giraffe, who lay with his eyes closed, but drinking in all that was said. "well," continued step hen, "all at once i noticed something that interested me a whole lot. there was one of them queer little tumble-bugs you always see ashovin' round balls along the road, an' goin' somewhere that nobody ever yet found out. this critter was tryin' like all possessed to push his ball up a steep little place in the road. sometimes he'd get her close to the top, and then lose his grip; when it'd roll all the way back again. "say, boys, that insect's pluck interested me a heap, now, i'm tellin' you. right there i got one of the best lessons a scout ever picked up in all his life; which was the old story, 'if at first you don't succeed, try, try again.' and he kept on tryin' again and again. i must a stayed there all of half an hour, just watchin' that game little critter pushin' his ball up against the hardest luck ever. and then, when i just couldn't stand it any longer i took bug and ball in my hand, and put 'em both up on top of that rise. and after that i thought i had a right to turn my badge right-side up!" the scouts looked at each other. somehow, they did not laugh, though surely it must have been one of the queerest reasons ever advanced by a fellow-scout, as an excuse for wearing his badge honorably. despite its grotesque nature, there was also something rather pathetic about the thought of step hen, only a careless, half-grown lad at best, spending a whole lot of time, simply watching an humble but game little beetle trying to fight against hard luck, and almost as interested in the outcome as the wretched bug itself. "how about that, mr. scoutmaster; is step entitled to wear his badge that way, on account of helping that silly little bug climb his mountain?" asked davy, turning to thad; but though his words might seem to indicate a touch of scorn, there was certainly nothing of the sort in his manner. thad himself had been amused, and deeply interested, in step hen's recital. only too well did he know what a careless and indifferent fellow the boy had ordinarily been classed, both at school and at home. seldom, if ever, had he paid the least attention to things that were happening all around him, and which might appeal to the sympathies of boys who were made of finer grain than step hen. and now, it seemed that something had been making an insidious change inside the scout; when he could feel such intense interest in so trivial a thing as the pluck of an obscure tumble-bug. time was when step hen would have cared little whether or not he came down with his heel upon such an object, which ought to know better than get in his path. it was different now, since step hen had joined the scouts. his eyes had been opened to many things, the existence of which he had never dreamed in those other days. and he could never again be the same indifferent fellow; he must go on advancing along the trail that led to a better knowledge of nature's great secrets; and above all else, the capacity that lay within his own heart for understanding these myriads of small but wonderful things. "i'm not going to answer that question myself, davy," said thad, with a smile. "fact is, i'd much rather have the candid opinion of every scout on the subject. so i'm going to put it to a vote, here and now; and i want you to be serious about it, small matter though it may seem; for upon such things rests the very foundations of the whole boy scout movement--observing, understanding, appreciating." "whew!" muttered giraffe, "and all this fuss about one little tumble-bug!" "those who really and truly think step hen had a full right to turn his badge right side up for the interest he took in that game little creature's struggle to overcome what seemed unsurmountable difficulties, and for lending a helping hand in the end, raise the right hand," and thad put his up for a starter. not counting step hen himself, there were just seven fellows present when thad asked them to show their colors. and including the scoutmaster himself, just seven instantly raised a hand. thad laughed softly. it gave him more pleasure than he could tell to see that the boys understood the motive that had swayed their comrade. and doubtless this vote of confidence would urge step hen to go along the path he had discovered, with ever-increasing confidence, as its charms continued to be revealed in ever-increasing proportions day by day. a new world would soon open up to his inquiring eyes. he would find ten thousand things of tremendous interest all around him, to which he had up to now been as blind as a bat. never again would he feel alone, even though no comrade were at his side; for he could discover innumerable objects about him at any time, calculated to chain his attention. "seems to be unanimous, fellows," remarked thad; "and i hereby publicly commend our comrade, step hen, for his action of this morning. yes, he did have a right to turn his badge. it was not so much _what_ he did, as the feeling he showed in, first of all, stopping to watch the bug; second, getting tremendously interested in its never-give-up spirit; third, in applying the principal to himself; and last but not least, his desire to lend a helping hand. for step hen, boys, this has been a day that some time later on in life, he will mark with a white stone; for he has begun to notice things. and with the fever on him, he'll have to keep on noticing, until he'll think it's not the same old world at all but one filled at every turn with splendid discoveries. i know, because i've been through the same thing myself." "hurrah!" said giraffe, who had been considerably impressed by what the scoutmaster had said. "what did i tell you, fellows, about not missing dr. philander hobbs, our regular scoutmaster, on this hike? d'ye think now, he could have said all that one-half as good as thad did? i guess not. and step hen, i'm ashamed to say that the whole blessed day has gone by without my ever thinking to do something good for another feller, so i could turn my badge over. there she rests; and i give you all fair notice that to-morrow i'm going to start in right away to get it moving." "plenty of time to-night yet, giraffe," piped up davy. "i happen to know a fellow who thinks a certain knife you own would look mighty fine in his pocket, if only you'd take the trade he offers. now, if you made him happy, p'raps you'd have the right to turn your badge; and he c'd do ditto, making it a killing of two birds with one stone. better think it over, giraffe." the tall boy looked at davy with a frown, and shook his head. "'tain't fair to put it up to me that way, davy," he declared, obstinately. "you just know i don't want to trade, the least bit. now, if you'd say, that on the whole you'd concluded to quit botherin' me, that would be a good deed, and i reckon you'd ought to have the right to turn your badge." at this ingenious return thrust davy subsided, with a grin, and a general laugh arose from the other scouts. but if most of the boys were merry, there was one who looked sober enough. of course this was bob quail. he knew what a tremendous undertaking he had before him, and the results seemed so uncertain that it was only natural he should feel the heavy weight resting upon his young shoulders. first of all, he must meet his cousin, bertha, and learn what success had followed her efforts to discover whether the paper she had seen by accident in her guardian's safe was the missing document which bob believed reuben had abstracted, placing another in its place. then, later on, he had that appointment with polly, the moonshiner's daughter, who was to bring him news concerning the mysterious prisoner. yes, bob certainly had quite enough on his young mind to make him anything but jovial. still, he had been more or less interested in what was going on around him, for he was, after all, a boy. they were eating supper, as they chatted in this way. night had settled down on the scene. it promised to be a pretty dark night at that, thad realized, as he looked around him, and then up at the heavens, where a few stars held forth, but gave very little light. it was fortunate that bob happened to be so well acquainted around that vicinity otherwise he would never have been able to cross to the other side of the strange little basin which they called a valley, without carrying a lantern; and this in itself must be out of the question, since its light would betray him. while they were eating, they heard a gunshot not far away. "wow! what d'ye think that means?" exclaimed giraffe, jumping to his feet, and looking off in the gloom toward the back trail. "seemed to me like it came from down that way, eh, boys." "it sure did," announced davy jones, positively. "and it was a gun in the bargain, with a big load. what d'ye s'pose they could find to shoot at in the dark?" demanded step hen. "oh! lots of things," replied allan. "if a bobcat jumped in on us right now, we'd think of using our gun, wouldn't we? but it might be that shot was some sort of signal, after all." "there wasn't any answer, that's sure," interposed bumpus. "but seems to me i can hear somebody talking pretty loud that way," observed the listening thad. "i did too," declared smithy; "but it's died away now, as though the excitement might be over. i wonder what it was, fellows?" "chances are, we'll never know," returned giraffe, settling back once more to continue eating, for he was not yet through. "lots of queer things are happening all around us, that we'll never know," remarked step hen, seriously. thad looked at him curiously. this was a strange remark to come from the happy-go-lucky step hen. it looked as though his one little experience of that morning had indeed done wonders toward causing the careless lad to turn over a new leaf. he was beginning to _think_, and see what a great big world this is after all. his horizon had been moved back hugely since he first yawned, and stretched, that same morning. and the queer part of it was that no one thought to joke the boy about his altered disposition. they seemed to understand that it was no joking matter. doubtless step hen's reformation would not be accomplished in a day, nor a week, nor even a month; but he had taken the first step, and from now on must begin to arouse himself to making a good use of the faculties with which a kindly nature had endowed him. "listen!" exclaimed thad, a little while later, just as they were about done supper. "i heard somebody talking, too!" declared davy jones; while allan showed by his manner that the sounds had surely come to his acute hearing, trained by long service in the piney woods of his native state. "they're comin' this way, too; i c'n hear 'em pushin' through the bushes, and stumblin' along too." bumpus declared, in an awed tone; looking a trifle worried, and wishing thad would only snatch up that gun, lying against the tree trunk, which the other did not seem at all anxious to do. the voices drew steadily nearer, as the boys stood and listened. "hyar's a fire, nate; we gut ter git him thar, sure's anything. i tell yuh he'll never be able tuh walk 'crost tuh the doc's cabin. he'll bleed tuh death long 'foah we gits thar with 'im. steady now, cliff; hyah's a light, an' we kin see how bad yuh is hurt!" then, while the scouts stood and stared in amazement, a group of three men staggered into view, two of them assisting the third, whose faltering steps showed that he must have been injured, even if the arm that dangled helplessly at his side had not told the tale of a serious gunshot wound! no wonder that the boy scouts felt a thrill as they watched these rough mountaineers enter their camp in this strange way. chapter xxi. "be prepared!" "whee!" it was bumpus who gave utterance to this exclamation, though possibly he hardly realized, himself, that he was saying anything, as he stood there, and gaped at the sight of the wounded mountaineer being helped along into their camp. but if bumpus, and some of the others, were spell-bound by what they saw, gazing as though fascinated at the blood dripping from the man's fingers, thad brewster was not included in this group. he had long ago picked up a smattering of knowledge connected with a surgeon's duties; and ever since taking up the new life of a boy scout, those things which concerned the saving of human life had somehow appealed to young thad with redoubled force. more than once now had he been called upon to show what he knew along these lines. a boy had been severely cut by an ax he was carelessly wielding in camp; and might have bled to death only for the energetic actions of thad, who knew just how to secure a stout bandanna handkerchief around above the wound, with the knot pressing on the artery; and making a tourniquet by passing a stick through the folds of the rude bandage, twist until the bleeding was temporarily stopped, and the boy could be taken to a doctor. another time it had been a case of near drowning, when thad, who had learned his lesson well, succeeded in exercising the lad's arms, after laying him on his chest and pressing his knee upon him, until he had started the lungs to working. in that case every one of the other scouts declared that only for these prompt applications of scout knowledge the unfortunate one would surely have died. and so, when he saw that the man who was being thus supported into their camp had been shot in the arm, and was in danger of bleeding to death, the surgeon instinct in thad brewster came immediately to the surface. he never once thought about the fact that the man was very probably one of those very lawless moonshiners, whose presence all around had virtually marooned himself and chums in the heart of the mountains. he was a man, and in trouble; and perhaps thad could be of some help! and so the generous-hearted boy sprang forward, eager to lend a hand. "bring him right up to the fire, men!" he exclaimed. "what happened to him? was he shot? we heard a gun go off a little while ago, and wondered what it meant." the two men urged their injured companion forward. he seemed to have little mind of his own in the matter; though thad could see that he had his jaws set, and was apparently determined to betray no sign of weakness in this terrible hour. the customary grit of the north carolina mountaineer was there, without fail. it showed in the clenched hand, the grim look on his weather-beaten face, as well as in those tightly closed teeth. "yep, 'twar an accident," almost fiercely replied one of the men, whom thad now recognized as the fellow whom they had met driving the vehicle that bob declared had kegs of the illicit mountain dew hidden under the straw--nate busby. "we was walkin' thro' ther woods w'en a twig cort the trigger o' my gun, and she hit cliff in the arm, makin' a bad hurt. reckons as how he never kin hold out till we-uns git him acrost ter ther doc's cabin." "you could, if we managed to stop that bleeding," said thad, eagerly. "bring him over here, and let me take a look, men. i've done a little something that way. and perhaps you don't know it; but all boy scouts are taught how to shut off the flow of blood. there, set him down, and help me get his coat off. there's no time to lose." "nope, thar's sure no time tuh lose," muttered the wretched nate, who was undoubtedly feeling very keenly the fact that it had been _his_ gun that had been discharged through accident, causing all this trouble; and that if the man died, his relatives might even want to hold the unlucky owner of that weapon to account for his carelessness, inexcusable in one who had been mountain born and bred. they sat the wounded man down as gently as though he had been a babe; after which nate assisted thad to take the ragged coat off. some of the scouts crowded close, though with white faces; for the sight of blood is always enough to send a cold chill to the hearts of those unaccustomed to the spectacle. but allan was an exception; and strangely enough, there was smithy, whom no one would ever have expected to show the least bit of nerve, evidently ready to lend the amateur surgeon a helping hand, if he called for recruits. it often takes a sudden emergency call like this to show what is under the veneered surface of a boy. smithy had always been deemed rather effeminate; yet here he could stand a sight that sent the cold shivers chasing up and down the spines of such fellows as giraffe, davy jones, and step hen, and almost completely upset poor bumpus. "get me one of those stout bandages i brought along, allan, please," said thad, when he could see what the terrible nature of the wound was; "you know where they are. and smithy, will you hand me that stick yonder?" in a brief space of time the several articles were at the service of the boy, who first of all made a good-sized knot in the handkerchief, after wrapping it around the man's arm _above_ the wound; and then, inserting the stout stick, he began twisting the same vigorously. it must have pained tremendously, but not a whimper, not a semblance of a groan did they hear from the bearded lips of the wounded mountaineer. indeed, he seemed to arouse himself sufficiently to watch the confident operations of the young surgeon with a rising curiosity; and thad thought he could detect a slight smile on his dark face. as for nate and the other rough man, they stared as though unable to believe their eyes, to thus see a mere boy so wonderfully able to do what was necessary in a case of life and death. every little movement did they follow with wrapt attention. no doubt, a great relief had already commenced to rise up in the heart of nate, as hope again took hold upon him. if the other survived the shock, and loss of blood, it would not be so bad; and trouble might not come home to him on account of his liability for the accident. thad soon knew that he had done the right thing. the knot had been properly placed, so that the pressure upon the artery above the wound prevented any more blood being pumped that way by the excited action of the man's heart. "there," he remarked, in a satisfied way, "i guess we've got the bleeding held up, and you can get him to a doctor, if, as you say, there is one across the valley. i'm going to bind this stick so it can't come loose while you're helping him along. but if it should, perhaps you've seen how i did the job, and you could fix it up again?" "sure," replied nate; "and yuh dun it ther neatest i ever knowed, younker. reckon as how cliff dorie an' me has reason tuh be glad yuh happened tuh be so clost. if so be he lives thru hit, as he will now, dead sartin, he's gwine tuh owe his life tuh yer." thad happened to catch a glimpse of bob's face just then, as the other turned toward him; for up to now he had been keeping rather aloof, not wishing to be noticed by either of the mountain men. he was surprised to see the expression of suddenly renewed hope that seemed to have taken up its abiding place there. apparently the southern boy had made a pleasing discovery, which of course thad could only guess at, until he had found a chance to speak to his comrade. but he understood readily enough that it must concern the coming of the three men, and the fact of the scouts being enabled to place them under obligations. with the flow of blood stopped, the wounded man seemed to gather new energy. he no doubt felt that he had at least a fair chance to pull through. he started to get on his feet, seeing which thad immediately offered his hand to help him; and the mountaineer's horny palm was confidently thrust into his much smaller one; as though, after what miracle he had already seen the lad perform, the man were willing to trust him in anything. yes. fortune had again been kind to the scouts; only in this instance it had not been a case of searching for chances to do good; the opportunity had come knocking at their very door, so that all that was necessary was for them to _be prepared_, just as the scout's motto signifies, and then do the best they knew how. again did the two men take hold of their stricken companion. before they quit the vicinity of the fire, however, the man named nate busby turned and shook hands all around. evidently he was grateful for the assistance rendered. to his mind this first aid to the injured meant a whole lot; and while he did not say a single word, his action was enough to show what he thought. then the group departed, heading toward the other side of the valley, where, in one of the humble cabins, some sort of mountain doctor was to be found, rude in his way, no doubt, but perfectly capable of attending to a gunshot wound; for these doubtless constituted the bulk of calls that were made upon his services. when they had gone the scouts began to discuss the queer happening, and compare notes as to which one of them had shown the least alarm. bob quail came directly over to where allan and thad were standing, just as the latter had expected he would do. that expression of eager anticipation still shone upon his dark face, and his eyes fairly glowed with satisfaction. "well, will wonders ever stop happening?" he said, as he reached the others. "did you hear what nate called the wounded man, thad, allan?" "yes, it was cliff dorie. and i guess you've heard it before, judging from the way you act?" observed the scoutmaster. "talk about luck, why, we're just swimming neck deep in it, suh!" the other continued. "i thought he looked a little like somebody i'd known befoah; and when i heard that name, i knew it; why, cliff dorie is the brother of old phin's wife!" "fine!" exclaimed allan, with a broad smile. "i should say, yes," bob went on, eagerly; "seems as though we were just bound to put the whole dady family in our debt. there was old phin himself, who felt so interested in all you told him about the boy scout movement; then there was polly, who might have had her face badly scratched, not to mention other wounds, if we hadn't just happened to get there in time to chase that savage mother bobcat off. and now you've gone and saved the life of polly's own uncle. oh! p'raps, suh, we won't have to get into any fuss at all about that prisoner of the still; p'raps old phin might feel that we'd done his family enough good to change his mind about keepin' that revenue man up there any longer, aworkin' his life out; and let him go away with us, if he promised never to tell anything he'd learned. and let me say to you both, i'm feelin' somethin' right here, inside, that seems to tell me it's going to be all right, all right!" and bob repeated those last two words softly, caressingly, as though they meant everything in the wide world to him. chapter xxii. when bob came back. the other boys of course shared in bob's deep feeling of satisfaction. perhaps he might be expecting too much from the old mountaineer; but then, bob had lived among these people during a good portion of his life, and ought to be able to judge as to the amount of gratitude they were capable of feeling. "but you ought to be off across the valley yourself, bob," ventured thad, presently. "i know it, suh," the southern lad replied, quickly; "and let me tell you i'm starting right now in better spirits than i ever dreamed would be the case. i want to get back heah in good time, so as to go up yondah with you, and meet polly." "if you're not too much played out," suggested allan. bob drew his figure up proudly, as he went on to say: "i'd have to be mighty nigh a collapse, suh, let me tell you, to keep from goin' to where i've got a chance to hear about _him_!" and they did not need to be told who was meant, for they knew bob was thinking of his missing father, whom everybody had long believed to be surely dead. and so he presently vanished, with a farewell wave of the hand. the other scouts gathered around the fire, chatting on various subjects, but principally in connection with the recent happening. they thought it the strangest thing in the world how two girls came to play a part in the affair which their good comrade, bob quail, was trying to put through; and of such vastly different types too, the one a plain mountain maid, and the other, according to what they themselves had seen, quite a dainty little thing, cultured and refined. "smithy, i'm going to tell you to reverse that badge of yours," said the scoutmaster, as they sat there around the fire, waiting for the return of the absent comrade. smithy looked up in surprise. he had been smoothing his coat sleeve after a peculiar habit he had, as though he imagined he had discovered some dust there. and for the moment he fancied that thad must be joking him on account of those "finicky" ways, as giraffe called them, which he could not wholly throw aside, since extreme neatness had long ago become a part of his very nature. "that's very kind of you, thad," he remarked, trying to appear calm; "and i'm sure i feel grateful for the privilege, which should always be a matter of pride i take it, with every boy scout. but i am not aware, sir, just how i've gained the right to reverse my badge." "by handing me that stick when i asked for it, and thereby becoming a partner with me in assisting that wounded man. you notice that i'm turning my own badge, because i think i've earned it by this act, if i didn't by what bob and myself did to that bobcat. and allan, you're in this deal also; you brought me that roll of stout muslin when i wanted it, so you did all you could." "and i helped get him on his feet!" declared giraffe, quickly. "so did i!" exclaimed bumpus, excitedly; "anyhow, i started to lend a hand; but there was so many around i just got crowded out. but i _wanted_ to do something, sure i did, thad!" "turn your badge, then," ordered the scoutmaster, smiling. "in fact, every scout was full of sympathy, and ready to assist if called on. and under the circumstances, i just guess there needn't be any badge in this camp unturned right now. to-morrow we'll start fresh again, and let's see how quick all of us can follow after step hen's example, and help some worthy object along." "even if it is only a poor little tumble-bug that can't push his ball home," remarked giraffe, with a grin. the time hung heavily upon their hands. no doubt this was partly caused by their intense eagerness to learn just how bob was coming out. would bertha meet him; or might she have been shut up in the house by her guardian, stern reuben sparks? if she did come, would she bring that paper which she said was signed with her dead father's name; and supposing it proved to be all bob hoped and prayed it would, was it possible, if placed in the hands of a competent lawyer in asheville, that this document would take bertha from the custody of reuben, and give her a home with bob's mother up in cranford? all these things were debated from every standpoint; and wide-awake boys can see the weak links in the chain about as quickly as any one; so that thad was kept busy explaining, and building up plans to suit the altered conditions. "ought to be time he was here," giraffe remarked, as he stifled a huge yawn. "it's sure nearly a whole hour since we heard that row across there," bumpus went on to say. "seemed like a whole crowd had started to yell, and dogs to bark. we none of us could make up our minds what it meant. some thought the wounded man must a got to the cabins, an' all that noise meant the kind of reception a brave feller gets in these parts when he's brought home on a shutter. but others, they seemed to b'lieve it might have had to do with our chum bob, and that p'raps he'd been surrounded, and trapped by the wise old reuben." "we hope not, for a fact," declared thad. "well, there's somebody coming right now, i give you my word!" observed smithy, who happened to be on the windward side of the fire, and able to hear better than some of the rest. "and from the right direction, too," added allan. the patter of footsteps came closer, and presently a dim figure loomed up, almost staggering. "it's bob, all right!" cried bumpus; and thad heaved a sigh of relief, for he had begun to fear that something might have happened to disturb the carefully laid plans of his companion. the southern boy came into camp, breathing heavily. he seemed to be very much exhausted, but thad could detect a look of triumph on his face that seemed to tell of something worth while having been accomplished. dropping down, bob motioned for a drink of water, and step hen made haste to get him one from the collapsible bucket they had brought along with them. draining the tin cup, bob sighed as though the cooling liquid went just to the right spot, and had refreshed him wonderfully. "it's all right, thad!" he managed to say, noticing the questioning look that the other was bending upon him. "then you saw your cousin, and got the paper?" asked the scoutmaster, eagerly, while the rest of the boys fairly hung upon every word. bob nodded his head. "get my breath right soon now," he remarked; "then tell you all about it. phew! i had a smart run, believe me!" the boys exchanged expressive looks. they drew their own conclusions from the little bob had already dropped; and began to believe that he must have been hotly pursued. evidently then, if this were indeed the case, bob had met with an adventure since leaving the camp-fire, and a serious one at that. it is always a difficult thing for the ordinary boy to restrain his impatience, and several of the scouts squirmed about uneasily while bob was trying to calm himself down, so that he might talk with reasonable comfort. thad let him have his own time. he understood that bob was even more anxious to tell, than any of them were to hear; and that just as quickly as he could, he was sure to start in. that time came presently, when his heart began to beat less violently; and as a consequence bob started to breathe more naturally. "i met bertha," he began to say, "and she gave me the paper. boys, it's everything i hoped it'd be; and once i manage to get it in the hands of a good lawyer, good-bye to mr. reuben sparks' authority over little bertha, and her fortune." "wow! that's going some!" burst out giraffe, rubbing his thin hands one over the other, as though decidedly pleased by the news. "was she disappointed when you told her how impossible it would be for us to take her away right now, when these moonshiners have got us marooned up here in their blessed old mountains; and we can't turn whichever way without runnin' slap up against a sentry with his old gun?" asked bumpus. "that's right, she _was_ upset when i told her that same," answered the other. "it made me feel right bad too, suh, to see how she took it; and i tell you right now i came mighty neah givin' in, and sayin' we'd make a try. but i remembered what thad heah had told me, and how it was best for all of us that we let the cou'ts summon old reuben to bring bertha before the bar of justice. an' finally, after i'd explained it all to her, she began to see it the same way. my cousin has got the spirit of the quails all right, i tell you, fellows, even if she is young and little." "i reckon you stayed so long tryin' to convince her, bob, that you clean forgot how you'd promised to get back here as soon as you could?" remarked step hen, under the belief, no doubt, that he was giving the other a sly dig. "well, perhaps you are correct about that same, suh," replied bob, quite unabashed; "she was like most girls, and had to be argued into seeing things like boys see 'em. of course, i couldn't break away till she had arranged to go back to the house, and wait for things to begin to move, as they surely would, just as soon as i get to asheville. but there was one real smart thing she did do, and i've just got to tell you about that befo' i come to my own adventure." "that's right, don't skip anything, old chum," remarked giraffe, warmly, as he settled down to listen. "when bertha took that document from the little pigeonhole in the safe where he had it hidden, she thought to make up another as much like it as she could, and put that in place of the one she carried off. some of you scouts ought to take pattern from the smartness of that little girl; don't you think so, thad?" and bob turned his now smiling face upon the patrol leader. "they couldn't improve very much on that sort of work," thad declared; "and if girls were allowed to join our troop i'd vote every time to let your cousin come in. i'm sure she'd be an honor to any organization." "now tell us what happened to you, bob!" asked bumpus. "well," continued the other, drawing a long breath as though what he was about to say stirred him once more; "i was just ready to say good-bye, when we heard loud voices, together with the barking of a big dog, and old reuben, with a man, and a mastiff about hip-high burst into view, both men carrying lanterns, and heavy sticks in their hands. and you can believe me, fellows, i understood that i was in for a little excitement about that time!" chapter xxiii. a climb in the dark. "that's where you had ought to have had our gun, bob," remarked giraffe, as the other paused for a moment, to recover his breath before going on with his exacting recital. "i was about of that opinion myself, suh," the other continued; "and i reckon that if such had been the case, there would have been one less mastiff in the world right now. but after all, it's well i didn't take the weapon. things would have gone different from what they did; and i have no fault to find, suh, not a bit." "but what did you do; don't tell us you beat a big dog runnin'?" demanded bumpus, incredulously. "i am not so foolish as to want you to believe that sort of stuff, suh," replied the southern boy, stiffly. "i doubt very much if there is a man living, even the winner of the great world marathon, who could have outrun that hound. fortunately i didn't have to depend on my heels altogether, to escape being bitten by his fangs. there chanced to be another way out of the hole." "say, i guess _she_ had a hand in it!" suggested giraffe. "go up to the head, suh," remarked bob, with a smile; "because that is just what did come about. old reuben, he must have managed to catch sight of some one, even if he wasn't nigh enough to tell that i was dressed in the uniform of a scout. he up and sicked the dog on me; and i reckon it wouldn't have mattered one bit to that cold-blooded old man if the ugly beast had torn me badly." "and was you arunnin' like fun all the while?" asked step hen. "i believe i was making pretty fast time, suh, considerin' that the bushes in the garden interfered with my sprinting. but that dog would have caught up with me befo' i ever could have climbed the high fence, only for a thing that happened. first thing i knew i heard bertha calling at the top of her little voice to the mastiff. and i reckon now that ajax, he must have been more used to mindin' the crook of her little finger than he was the orders of old reuben. fo', believe me, suh, he just gave over chasin' after me, and went, and began to fawnin' on her hand." "great stuff!" declared bumpus. "say, i c'n just think i see that old rube prancin' around there, orderin' ajex on to grab you, an' gettin' madder'n madder when the wise dog just utterly declined to obey. i always heard that the sun c'd force a feller to take his coat off, when the wind made a dead fizzle out of the job. kindness goes further with some animals than fear does." "hear! hear! words of wisdom dropping like pearls of great price from the lips of our comrade, bumpus!" cried giraffe. "but they're true, every word, all right," affirmed the stout scout, firmly. "i kept on running for two reasons," bob went on to explain. "in the first place, i didn't know but what the dog might be forced to alter his ways, and start out after me. then again, p'raps that man with old reuben might be coming, licketty-split after me; and i want you to believe i didn't mean to be caught, with that valuable paper in my pocket at that." "so you made pretty warm time of it over here, eh?" remarked davy jones, who had remained quiet for some time, being deeply impressed by this story which the other was giving them. "i never let up for two minutes at a time all the way across," admitted bob, in a satisfied tone. "of course i had a few tumbles, but i reckon there was none of 'em serious; leastways i didn't get bruised, or tear my clothes. and now that i've got my breath back again, it's time we thought of starting out; because there's heaps mo' that's got to be done before we c'n call a rest." "yes, a great deal," admitted thad, who, however, was well pleased with the outcome thus far; "and after you've lain here about ten minutes or so, bob, we'll see whether you feel able to take that other climb. if you don't why, allan here could go in your place." "and do just as well, i have no doubt, suh," added bob; "but thank you, i shall surely be able to take my part in that climb. if you gave the word right now you'd see me spring to my feet, and start; because there's every reason in the world to spur me on. who wouldn't make an extra effort for that?" the hour had grown late, since they had waited much beyond the appointed time for the return of the messenger who had gone to meet bertha. but thad knew they still had an abundance of time to get to the place arranged with polly, before midnight, which had been the hour set for their meeting. "now, if you feel refreshed, we'll make a start, bob," remarked the scoutmaster, after a bit. the other was on his feet instantly, and he gave not the slightest sign of weariness at that. "let me have just one more cup of that fine water," he remarked, "and then i'm in fine fettle for business. if this second job only turns out as handsome as that other, this'll sure be the happiest night ever. but i hope that reuben does not lay his hand on my cousin for what has happened this night. if he does, he'll suffer for it, as sure as my name's bob quail." "you don't really think he'd go as far as to strike her, do you?" asked thad, to whom the very idea seemed abhorrent. "i don't just know how far a man of his stripe would go if made very furious, suh. to tell you the truth, i didn't want to run at all; but bertha insisted on my doing the same. she said nothing was going to happen to injure her; and that if i was caught, with that paper in my possession, she never would have the least chance to get away. and that was all that made me run, believe me, suh." thad took his shotgun along with him; and noticing the queer look giraffe gave him, he condescended to explain. "don't believe for a minute that i expect to make use of this on some moonshiner," he said, earnestly, yet with a trace of a smile lurking about the corners of his mouth. "the mission of boy scouts is more to bind up, than to give wounds; though they are allowed to do this other in extreme cases, where some person's life may be in danger. but you remember, we ran across a nasty bobcat up yonder once before; and if so be she happens to be laying for us, i'd like to be prepared for trouble. a scout should never go around with a chip on his shoulder looking for trouble; but if it finds him out, why, he's just _got_ to defend himself. that's the way i look at it; and most others do too. come on, bob, if you're ready." when the two boys quitted camp bob was walking as sprucely as ever. if he still felt the effects of his long run he knew how to conceal the fact in the finest way--giraffe, bumpus, step hen, smithy, and davy jones believed they had ever seen. only allan, being experienced in such things, could see that bob was laboring under a heavy strain, and had his teeth tightly clenched; though the body might be weak, it was an indomitable spirit that urged him on. between them the two boys had noted things when coming down the mountain that afternoon, and in this way picked out the course they expected to take on that same night. it was rough enough, especially when they had to do their climbing in the dark; since carrying a lighted lantern would be foolhardy in the extreme. bob's impatience took him in the lead most of the time. thad cautioned his impetuous companion in low whispers several times; and yet, knowing what the motive was that drew bob along in such feverish haste, he could hardly blame him. at the same time he knew the danger of making a false step when they happened to be close to the brink of some steep descent, down which a roll meant instant death, or at least broken bones. as they climbed upwards they would pause every little while to get a new supply of energy, as well as recover their breath. and at such times both boys eagerly scanned the black gulf that lay below them. it had not taken their keen eyes long to discover several lights that seemed to move in eccentric circles and other movements. nor was either of them at a loss to understand what this implied. "the moonshiner videttes are having another talk," bob remarked, as they sat and watched several lights carrying on in this weird fashion. "seems like it," said thad, thoughtfully. "i wonder now, what is being carried along the lines? it'd be a great stunt, thad, if we could read the signs, and listen to the talk, wouldn't it? p'raps now we'd learn something to our advantage," the southern lad went on, longingly. "well, as we haven't got the code book," laughed the scoutmaster, "that would be a pretty hard job, i take it." "but still," bob continued, with a shade of entreaty in his voice that was hard to resist, "i take it that you could give a guess that would come pretty nigh the truth, if you cared to try, thad." "well, i don't know about that," replied the other scout; and then adding, as he realized that bob was grieved: "i'm willing enough to make a try, if you think it would pay. let's see, first of all, where these fellows are located who are doing all this communicating." "there's one on the side of the mountain over yonder," declared bob; "then that's a second fellow across the valley; you can see his lantern or torch dipping every which way; now he's stopped, as if he'd been asking more questions. and thad, seems to me, the one that's doing the heft of the jabbering is located down yonder. like as not the information's coming from him." "that's across the valley, bob?" remarked thad. "you're correct, suh; somewhere neah the place from which i was chased away not more than two hours back. that's where the cabins lie." "and that's where nate and the other mountain man took cliff dorie," continued the scoutmaster. "now, you can put things together yourself, if only you think, bob. don't you see that nate is probably telling these other fellows all about what happened to cliff. and i certainly do hope he doesn't forget to give us our due in the matter, for it would go a great way toward making these rough men our friends. you know only too well what that would mean, bob. friends with phin dady just now might be the means of giving you back your father." bob sighed heavily as he started on again, urged by a desire to come upon polly as soon as possible, and learn the truth, no matter whether the news proved a disappointment, or not. but in his haste he forgot the caution thad was trying always to instill in his mind; for stumbling presently, he found himself toppling over an unknown abyss that lay in the darkness, so that its extent could not be seen. thad had kept very close to his heels, and was prepared for something like this, so that he acted from impulse, there being not a second to give to thinking. chapter xxiv. the clock in the sky. "oh! thad!" bob unconsciously gave utterance to this low, bubbling cry as he felt the ground slipping from under him, and his eyes looking down into an inky void. then something clutched hold of him, and his downward progress was stayed. thad had shot out a hand, and grasped his chum by one of his legs, at the same time bracing himself for the shock. this he did in the twinkling of an eye, dropping his gun, and with that hand laying hold of a sapling that, fortunately, chanced to be within easy reach. "careful, don't kick more than you can help, bob," he remarked, as coolly as he possibly could, though a sensation akin to horror swept over him immediately he had acted. "i've got a good grip on you, and my other hand is holding on to a stout little sapling, so we just can't go down. now work yourself back, inch by inch, as well as you can. yo-heave-o! here you come! another try, bob! that gave us quite some distance. ready to make it again? why, this is easy. here you are now, altogether boys, with a will!" and after half a dozen of these concerted pulls and backward movements, bob found that he had reached a spot where he could take care of himself. "whew! that was what i call a close call!" he muttered. "i wonder, now, just how far down i'd have had to go, if you hadn't been clever enough to grab me just in time?" "we're not going to bother our heads about that, bob," replied the other, quickly; "only please go a bit slower. we won't make any time, if we have to stop, and go through that circus stunt every little while. and bob, it might happen that i'd lose my grip, and either let you go down, or there'd be two of us take the drop. does it pay to try and make speed at such a terrible risk?" "you're right, just like you always are, thad," replied the hasty and now penitent one; "and i'm sure a fool for taking chances that way. here, you go up ahead, and set the pace. that's the only way we can fix it; because, like as not inside of five minutes i'd be rushing along again for all i'm worth." "perhaps that would be the best plan," thad observed, with a chuckle. "i thought of it, but didn't want to make you feel that i distrusted your leadership. and i want to say right now that it isn't that makes me take the lead, only because you are so excited that you're not fit to judge things right." "but don't let's waste any more precious time, thad. polly might have gotten to the place ahead of us, you know. oh! wouldn't i be sore if she got tired of waiting, and went back home." "all the same," thad remarked, confidently, "i don't think polly would ever do such a mean thing as that. she understands just how crazy you are to know, and she's right now putting herself in your place. no, polly will wait up for us, make your mind easy on that, bob. i wish i was as sure that we'd get there, safe and sound." "oh! i'm done with my capers, mind you, thad," returned bob, eagerly. "since you've taken the lead, there's no chance for us to go pitching over a precipice. when they catch a weasel asleep, and no mortal man ever did that, i've heard, they'll hear of thad brewster making a fool move." "it's nice of you to say that, anyway, bob; i only wish i deserved the compliment you pay me. but we'd better talk less, and get on a little faster." and after thad had given this gentle little hint the conversation lagged; bob realized that it was really no time to carry on any sort of talk; and that when they could not tell what dangers might be close around them in that inky darkness, they would be far wiser to keep a padlock on their lips. each time they stopped they again saw the signal lights flashing out here and there across the way, or below. they seemed like giant fireflies, striving to free themselves from some invisible bonds. but the boys knew very well what it meant, and that the moonshiners of the blue ridge were holding an animated fire talk. they met no animal on the way, which thad thought was a piece of good luck. even though he did carry his faithful little marlin, which could send a powerful charge of shot a long distance; and close in, serve all the purposes of a big bore rifle, or musket, all the same, thad was not desirous of meeting with any new and thrilling adventure. such things were all very nice after they had passed along, and one sat comfortably by a camp-fire, relating the circumstance; but while in process of action they were apt to bring a cold chill along in their train, not at all comfortable. "it must be after the time we set, isn't it, thad?" bob finally asked, in a low voice, when they rested again. the scoutmaster could not look at his little cheap but reliable watch without striking a match; and there was really no necessity for doing that. it made very little difference whether they were ahead, or somewhat behind the hour arranged for their meeting with polly. and besides, there were other ways of telling time pretty accurately, without even having a watch along. thad glanced up into the heavens. he had often studied the bright worlds and suns to be seen there, and knew considerable about the positions they occupied, changing, it might be, with the coming and going of the seasons. "it's just close on to midnight, bob," he observed, presently. of course bob was at once interested. "you're saying that because of the stars, thad," he remarked. "please tell me how you managed to tell." "it's like this," the scoutmaster replied, not averse to pointing a lesson that might be seed sown in fertile ground; "notice those three rather small stars in the northeast, all in a line and pointing downward? well, those are what they call the belt of orion, the hunter. they point nearly direct down to a mighty bright blue star that you see there, twinkling like everything." "yes, i've often noticed that, and i reckon it must be a planet near as big as venus or jupiter," remarked the other boy. thad laughed. "well," he remarked, "i guess now you'd think me crazy if i told you just how far that same star is away from us right now, ever so many times further than either of the planets you speak of. why, bob, that's sirius, the dog star, said to be the biggest sun known to astronomers. our little sun wouldn't make a spot beside that terrible monster; which may be the central sun, around which all the other tens of thousands revolve everlastingly." "oh! yes, i've heard of the dog star, but never reckoned it amounted to anything in particular," declared the southern lad, interested, in spite of the anxiety that was gnawing at his heart all the while; "but suppose you go on, suh, and explain to me how you can tell the time of night by consulting the dog star. you sure have got me to guessing." "nothing could be easier, if only you'd put your mind to it, and think, bob?" continued the patrol leader. "these stars and planets rise at a certain hour every night. it grows later all the while, and many of them are not seen only half of the year, because they are above us in the daytime the rest of the twelve months. now suppose you had watched that star, as i did last night, and knew just when it crept above that mountain ridge over yonder; you'd have a line on when it could be expected to come up to-night. now do you see?" "well, it's as simple as two and two make four," replied bob. "and so that's the way old hunters tell the time at night, do they? reading the clock in the sky, you might call it, thad. i'm sure going to remember all about that; and later on, when my mind's at rest, i'll ask you a heap more questions about these things. they get more and more interesting the deeper you dip in; ain't that so, thad?" "i've found it that way," replied the scout leader, quietly. "a fellow who keeps his eyes and ears open can almost hear the stars whispering together, they say; and as to the secrets the wind tells to the trees in passing, why that's easy to understand. but if you're rested by now, bob, we'd better be on the move once more." only too willingly did bob agree. he believed that they must by this time be very nearly up to the point where polly had agreed to meet them. she had asked bob if he remembered the place; and he in return had declared he could easily find it, even in the darkness of night; for often had he climbed the face of this ridge when he lived close by; for at the time, his father had owned the very place where old reuben sparks now had his home, the miser having purchased it from mrs. quail upon her moving north with her son. "keep on the lookout for three oak trees growing close together, thad," he said, presently. "it's always been a landmark around here, because any one can see it from the valley, you know. i reckon, now, we must be close by the same; and i'd hate to miss it in the dark. it's been some time since i was up here, and i'm apt to get mixed a bit." "well, i think you've done mighty well so far; because, unless my eyes deceive me, there's the place right ahead of us," thad declared. "you're right about that," bob added, feverishly; "that's the place of the three mountain oaks; and they stand out against the sky, now we've changed our position. oh! i'm beginning to shake all over, thad, i'm that anxious. what if polly shouldn't be on hand? perhaps she just couldn't learn anything, after all, and will only come to tell me she did her best; but they keep the still guarded too close, and she couldn't get close in. there's a dozen, yes, twenty things that might come up to upset my hopes. they don't seem so strong, thad, now that we've got to the point." "well, i wouldn't let myself get in any sort of gloom about it yet, anyway, bob. time enough to cry after the milk is spilt. here we are at the oaks, and we'll wait for polly to come, if she's late; but i'm dead certain she'll keep her word with you. when a girl like polly says she'll do a thing, you can just make up your mind she will, unless the heavens fall." "that's right peart o' you, suh," said a soft voice close by; and they heard a rustling sound, as though some one might be coming out from amidst the dense foliage just beyond the three oaks. "here's polly, be'n awaitin' this half hour fur you-uns to kim along. an' she's agettin' right sleepy, let me tell yuh." thad felt his chum quivering with eagerness as the mountain girl made her way carefully down to where they awaited her coming. what sort of news polly could be bringing neither of them could so much as guess; but it would not be long now ere bob knew the best, or the worst. chapter xxv. bob gets his reward. nearer came the rustling. they could not yet see polly, on account of the darkness, but the sound of her voice had reassured them. presently a moving figure crept close up to the waiting boys; which they knew must be the queer mountain girl. polly was far from dainty looking; she had coarse black hair that possibly seldom knew a comb; and her voice was rather harsh; but nevertheless thad believed she had a heart under this forbidding exterior, and that the spirit of gratitude was transforming her, greatly to their advantage. "i'm right glad yuh kim, even if 'twar late," she said, as she reached their side. "we started as soon as we could, polly," said bob, wondering if the girl really felt hurt because she had been kept waiting. "you see, i had to cross the valley, and talk with my cousin, bertha. it was very important that i should see her, for she had news to give me, news that we hope will end in taking her away from that cruel old miser, and giving her over to the keeping of my own dear mother." polly grunted, as though she felt that she had to exhibit some sign of displeasure; but she said no more on that subject. "i done found the still," she remarked, simply. "that's good, polly," bob said, warmly. "caus i'd be'n thar afore, but 'twas a long time ago," she went on, as if in apology for any difficulty she may have run across in finding the secret workshop of her father. "yes," bob went on, encouragingly, as she stopped. "yuh see, they don't want gals er wimen ahangin' 'round thar. an' ever since they begun ter keep a prisoner ter work ther mash, i reckons as how never one hes be'n up ter thet place." "but you hadn't forgotten just how to get there, had you, polly; you knew the old trail, even with its changes; and did they have a prisoner; or was it just a story that's been going around all this time?" bob's impatience could not hold back any longer. he felt that he must know the truth with regard to this fact, right away. if there was no prisoner after all, then hope must sink out of sight. on the other hand, should polly say that she had discovered a guard, and a patient working figure kept in restraint for long, weary months, he might still hug that fond illusion to his heart, that it might yet turn out to be his own father. "yep, i gut thar, even if they had hid the trail right smart," the girl continued, "an' sure 'nuff, thar war a prisoner!" "oh!" said bob, and thad could feel him quiver again with eagerness. the girl was slow, not because she wished to tantalize bob, but simply on account of her sluggish nature. the hook-worm has a firm grip upon most of the "poor whites" of north carolina, as well as in tennessee and georgia close at hand. it would take something out of the common to arouse polly; a sudden peril perhaps; or the anticipation of a new dress, which latter could not be an event occurring in less than yearly stages, thad had thought. "an' he war a man," polly went on, dreamily; "jest like yuh thought, bob; but his hair hed growed so long, and thar was so much beard on his face, i jest reckons his own mother wudn't never a knowed 'im." "but did you get close enough to him to say a single word, polly--just to ask him who he was?" the boy demanded, faintly. thad unconsciously let his arm glide around the figure of his chum. he seemed to fear the result, no matter what the answer of the mountain girl might be. "sure i did. thet's what i went up thar fur, ain't it?" polly went on to say. "they hed him chained ter ther rock. i reckons thar mout a be'n a guard alongside, sum o' ther time; but right then he must a be'n away. so arter peekin' around, an' not seein' any critter astandin' sentry, i jest mosied up clost ter ther man, an' touched him on ther arm." she paused again, as if to collect her thoughts, and then yawned; but it was only through habit, and not because polly felt sleepy; far from it, she was seldom more wide-awake than just then, though it was hard for thad to believe it. "he looked kinder s'prised tuh see me, 'cause like i done tole yuh, gals, they ain't never be'n 'lowed 'round thar, sense he was took. in course i tole him as how i jest kim ter fin' out who he mout be, 'case thar was somebody as 'peared mighty wantin' ter know thet same." "and did he tell you; could he speak still, and explain?" asked bob. "he shore cud, bob," she replied, a little more earnestly now, as though she realized that the critical point of her narrative had been reached. "i never'd a knowed him, wid all ther hair on his face; but when he says his name it was shore enuff--" and she paused dramatically. "my father?" gasped bob. "yep, an' no other then mistah quail, as used ter be ther marshal o' this deestrict sum years ago,--yer own dad, bob!" thad tightened his grip upon his chum, for he felt him quivering violently. it was a tremendous shock, since, for more than two years now, bob and his mother had been forced to believe the one they loved so dearly must be dead; but they say that joy never kills, and presently bob was able to command his voice again. "oh! you'll never know what that means to me, polly!" he exclaimed, as he groped around until he had found the girl's hand, which doubtless he pressed warmly in his great gratitude. "to think that my poor father has been alive all this time, and a slave up here in the wild mountains, while mother and i have been enjoying all the comforts and luxuries of our home. it just seems to cut me to the heart. but polly, you talked with him, didn't you?" "shore i did. he done tole me he mout a got free a long time ago, if he'd 'greed ter promise my dad never ter tell whar ther ole still war hid; an' never ter kim inter ther mountings agin ahuntin' moonshine stuff. but he sez as how, sense he still must be in ther employ o' ther gov'nment, he's bound ter do his duty; an' not in er thousand years wud he change his mind." "oh! that is jest like father," murmured the boy, partly in admiration, yet with a touch of genuine grief in his voice, because of the unnecessary suffering they had all endured on account of this stubborn trait on the part of the one-time marshal. "i tells him thet all ther same, he wa'n't agwine ter stay thar much longer, it didn't matter whether he guv ther promise er not, 'case thar hed be'n a change. an' then i ups an' tells him 'bout yer bein' hyar in ther mountings, bound ter larn ef he was erlive." "yes, and was he pleased when he heard that, polly?" asked bob, who was gradually coming around in fine shape, now that the stupendous disclosure had been accomplished, and his anxiety a thing of the past. "i shud say he war," replied the girl, a little aroused now. "say, he done _cry_, thet's what. reckons as how he mout a be'n sorry fur not promisin' like they wanted long ergo. he arsks as how yer looked, an' ef yer mam war still well. caus i cudn't tell him a heap, 'cause i didn't know; but i sez ter him thet yer hed kim hyar ter fotch 'im home, an' it'd be a shame ef yer hed ter go back erlone, jest 'cause he wanted ter be ugly. so he says as how he'd be'n athinkin', an' mout change his mind 'bout thet thar promise." "oh! to think of it, thad," bob breathed, gripping the arm of his staunch chum eagerly; "my father is alive after all these terrible months; and perhaps he'll even go home with me. it's worth all i've suffered ten times, yes a thousand times over." "you deserve all the happiness there can be going, bob, sure you do," declared the scoutmaster, positively. "i guess nothing could be too good for you. but we don't just understand yet how this is going to be brought about. will phin dady let him go free if he makes that promise, polly?" "shore, he's jest _got_ ter, now," the girl answered, with a little chuckle. "yer see, like i sez afore, things, have changed a heap now, an' my dad, he hain't a feelin' thet sore agin ther marshal like he used ter. an' bob quail, even ef he warn't gwine ter do hit, arter wat i larned this same night, i tells yer i'd set yer dad free on my own 'count." "what did you learn?" asked thad, curiously, seeing that apparently the girl could not of her own free will tell a story, but it had to be drawn from her piece meal, through the means of questions. "i war acomin' down ther mounting," she began, "an' 'bout harf way hyah i seen thet ther lights war a movin' down in ther valley. so i jest natchally stopped ter read what ther news was, 'spectin' thet it meant trouble fur you-uns. but the more i reads ther more i gits wise ter ther fack thet yer be'n an' done hit sum moah." "yes," said thad, encouragingly, though already he understood what was coming. "'pears like 'tain't enuff fur yer ter skeer off thet cat, an' keep me from agittin' my face clawed handsome, but yer must go an' save ther life o' my uncle cliff. i reads thet he was hurt bad by nate's gun goin' off, an' bleedin' a heap, so's they feels sure he never kin be took 'crost ter the doc's alive. then they jest happen on yer camp down thar; an' shore he gut his arm fixed up so's ter stop ther blood comin'; an' they fotched him acrost ther valley in good shape." "it was only a little thing, polly, and gave me a great deal of pleasure," said thad, thrilled despite himself by the girl's simple recital of the event. "p'raps 'twar," she replied, sturdily; "but my maw, she sots some store by uncle cliff; an' dad, he cain't nowise go agin wot she wants. so i sees right plain like it was writ, thet bob, he's bound arter this, ter git his dad free." "oh! it's like a dream to me, thad; i feel as if i must be asleep. give me a pinch or something, won't you, and let me understand that i'm alive," bob exclaimed. "you're awake, all right, old fellow," replied thad, with a nervous little laugh. "and unless i miss my guess, polly here is going to give you another pleasant little surprise; ain't you, polly?" "w'en i larns thet 'bout my uncle," continued the mountain girl, "i jest thinks as how bob hyah, he's be'n a wantin' ter larn somethin' 'bout his ole man ther longest time ever. an' so i makes up my min' ter fotch 'im right away up ter ther still in ther cave, so's ter see how the man as is chained'd feel ter git his boy in his arms onct agin!" "oh! polly, however can i thank you?" exclaimed the excited bob; "please let's start then right away. i thought i was tired, but now i'm feelin' as fresh as ever i could be. you couldn't go too quick to suit me!" chapter xxvi. the "still" in the mountain cave. "hit's sum climb," said polly, doubtfully. "but think what is at the end of it," answered the eager bob. "why, to see my father again, i'd go all night, and then some. please don't say you won't, polly, after giving me your promise." "i'm gwine tuh leave hit tuh him," said the girl simply, and both of them understood that she meant thad; for doubtless polly had guessed before now that he was the leader of the boys in uniform, and that what he said was authority. thad knew there was no such thing as trying to restrain his chum, now that the fever was in his veins; nor did he have any desire to do so. "he'll make it, all right, i think, polly," he remarked, quietly. "sure i will; so let's start," declared the other. polly, of course, was willing. she did not seem to give one thought to herself; and yet thad remembered how swollen her ankle had seemed, after such a bad twisting in the cleft of the rock that same afternoon, when the angry wildcat threatened to jump at her. but then polly had been reared among the mountains that seem to meet the sky; and she was a girl accustomed to standing all manner of pain as well as any grown man could have done. they started to climb upward. one thing favored them, for which thad was really glad. polly knew every foot of the rough country like a scholar might the printed pages of a book. she could lead them along trails that they never would have suspected existed at all, hidden as they were from the eye of a stranger, by the artful moonshiners. and while possibly the climbing might be difficult, it was never as bad as the boys had found it when ascending the mountain in the day time. bob for a wonder kept quiet. of course he needed all his wind to carry him through. then again, he was naturally turning over in his mind the amazing thing that had just come to him, and trying to realize his wonderful good fortune. the thought that he was about to see his dear father shortly was enough to fill his mind, to the exclusion of all else. and so he continued to follow close after the nimble girl, while thad brought up the rear. they paused to rest several times. no doubt it was more on account of these two boys, quite unaccustomed to such harsh labor as climbing a mountain, that compelled polly to pause; because otherwise, she could have kept straight on, without any rest. "we's gittin' thar now," she remarked, finally, as they halted for the fourth time, with bob fairly panting for breath, and thad himself secretly confessing that this mountain climbing after a surefooted girl who had shown herself as nimble as a goat, was no "cinch." "i'm glad to hear that news, polly," bob admitted candidly; but then it may have been on account of the fact that he was nearer the meeting with his long-lost father, rather than an admission that he was tired. "jest wun moah stop, an' shore we'll be thar; p'raps we cud make her right smart from hyah, ef so be yuh felt fresh enuff," polly explained. "let's try, anyhow," declared bob; "you don't know how much i can stand. why, i used to climb these same mountains as well as you ever could; and it'd be queer if i'd forgot all i ever knew." "thet sounds jest like a quail," remarked the girl, with a chuckle, as she once more took up the work. the last part of the climb was certainly the roughest of all. old phin had hidden his secret still in a quarter of the rocky uplift where no revenue man thus far had ever been able to look upon it of his own free will. but finally they heard polly say that it was close by. thad also noticed that the girl had changed her manner more or less. she climbed now without making the slightest noise; just as though some instinct, born of her life in the zone where warfare always existed between her people and the government agents, had caused her to exercise caution. thad saw that they were approaching what must be a rocky gully, leading to some sort of cave. he remembered that polly had, while speaking, happened to mention the fact that her father's famous still was located in a cave, which could never be found by the smartest agent the authorities had ever sent to look for such illegal distilleries. "look out yer don't slip!" came in a low but thrilling whisper from the guide at this juncture; and from this thad assumed that they must be passing along the edge of some dizzy precipice, that had to do with the safety of the manufactory, the existence of which had so long taunted the government. now and then polly would give a slight pause. at such times thad believed she must be looking cautiously around, to make sure that the guard had not returned to the place since she left there some time before. then he realized that he could no longer see the stars overhead. from this he judged they must have passed underground; and that this was a fact he presently learned when, by stretching out his hand, he felt the cold rock close by. all around them was pitch darkness at first, and the girl had made bob take hold of her dress, while thad in the rear kept a hand on his chum's back as they moved slowly along. presently the watchful scoutmaster made a little discovery that afforded him pleasure. there must be a light ahead somewhere, for he began to catch a faint glow, such as might come from a lantern. this illumination grew gradually stronger, until they could actually manage to see dimly around them. "wait hyah foh me, till i see ef ther coast is clar," whispered the girl. the two scouts saw her slip away. it struck thad that possibly he and his chums had much to learn ere they could pass along as noiselessly as this mountain girl. how the seconds dragged. each one must have seemed torture to poor anxious bob, knowing as he did that the one he had long mourned as dead was so near at hand. they heard nothing save a dripping sound, which might have been caused by water. evidently the secret still was not in operation just then; and words dropped by polly gave thad the impression that possibly it had ceased work for all time, because of some reason that brought about a change in the conditions. polly could not have been gone more than five minutes before she came gliding back again to where she had left the boys. "hit's all right, an' thar don't 'pear ter be any guard 'round." she plucked at bob's coat sleeve, as if to let him understand that he could come on now; as if the boy needed a second invitation. they turned a bend in the narrow passage ahead, and thad drew a long breath as he looked upon one of the most remarkable scenes it had ever been his fortune to see. the cave was a natural grotto, rock-ribbed, and as firm as the everlasting foundations of the mountains themselves. the moonshiners had fitted it up for their purpose; and there, for the first time thad saw what a still looked like. after all, it did not amount to much, the worm being the most interesting part of it. but then the fact that he was now gazing upon the very still that revenue men had for years tried in vain to discover and wreck, gave the scoutmaster a sensation akin to awe. but all this he saw with one sweeping glance. there was more. a clanking as of a chain drew his attention to a figure that had arisen from a bench, and was pushing the long hair from his eyes to watch their entrance. evidently polly during her short absence must have whispered to the prisoner that bob was close by. there was, of course, no such thing as holding bob back any longer. he saw that ragged and altogether uncouth figure, which of course bore not the least resemblance to the father he remembered so well; but he also had discovered a pair of extended arms, and toward their shelter the boy fairly leaped. another instant and bob quail was wrapped in the embrace of the parent he had not seen in more than two years, and whose fate it had been to remain here a prisoner among the moonshiners who hated him so thoroughly, while his dear ones mourned him as dead. after a few minutes thad moved closer, and gave a little cough, wishing to let his chum know that he had a comrade tried and true near by. with that bob started up, and gripped him by the arm. "this is my best friend, thad brewster, father," he said. thad shook hands with the emaciated man who had been confined in this underground retreat so long. in spite of the long beard and strange looks of the other, he realized that mr. quail was no ordinary man. but then thad had guessed that already, from what he had heard about the one-time marshal. "this is a mighty big piece of luck for bob!" thad remarked. "it seems nearly too good to be true; and he'll be the happiest boy in the states when he takes you back home with him, sir." "home!" repeated the prisoner; "how strange that word sounds, after being shut up here so long. and how queer the outside world will seem to me. but i hope the promise old phin dady made me, still holds good; for i've no longer the desire to hold out against his will. in my own mind i'm no longer on the pay-roll of the government, for he tells me every one believes me dead; so i can take the vow with a clear conscience. yes, i'm hoping to go home with my boy." thad felt that all now remaining for them to do was to get in communication with the moonshiner, and have mr. quail set at liberty. surely after what he and bob had done for the family of phin dady, the latter could not refuse to let his prisoner go; especially since he now professed his willingness to make the promise that up to this time he had absolutely declined to subscribe to. they were still talking in this strain when a sound like a cough drew their attention, and looking up, thad discovered a grim figure leaning on his gun not twenty feet away. there was no need to ask who the man was, for every one of them had already recognized the moonshiner, phin dady! chapter xxvii. bumpus calls for three cheers. the mountaineer was the first to speak. "'pears like i was interruptin' a leetle fambly reunion," he remarked, drily. at any rate, thad noticed, there did not seem to be any great show of anger in the actions or words of the man. nor was he leveling that terrible gun, which had doubtless brought consternation into the hearts of more than one invading group of revenue officers in times past. indeed, thad was rather inclined to think old phin looked remarkably docile, as though his claws had been pulled, and he no longer felt that the whole world was against him. mr. quail, however, did not see things in this way. he was not aware of the great change that had come about in the dady family, that threatened to remove from the blue ridge the most remarkable and picturesque figure the region had ever known. "i'm ready to make that promise you once put before me, phin!" he cried out, as if secretly fearing that harm might fall upon the head of his venturesome boy, because of his braving the moonshiner's wrath by searching out the secret still. "hit's too late fur thet, mistah quail!" declared the other grimly. "but surely you wouldn't think of changing your mind now?" said the prisoner. "thet's jest what i done, suh," answered phin. "polly, i'se noticin' as how yuh brung them byes up hyah tuh the old still. reckons as how yuh never'd dared do thet same on'y foh what's cum ter pass." "reckons as how i wudn't, dad," replied the girl; who, somehow, did not seem to display any particular fear of the stern parent, such as might have been expected under the circumstances. "are you going to let me go free, phin dady?" demanded the prisoner, hoarsely. for answer the moonshiner stepped forward, and with a key he produced, released the iron that had been fastened about the ankle of the one-time revenue marshal. "i give you the promise you wanted, phin, and never will i tell a living soul where the hiding-place of your still lies," mr. quail declared, trying to conceal his emotion as a brave man might. "thet's good o' ye, mistah quail," remarked the other, with one of his dry chuckles that somehow thad liked to hear. "and more than that, phin," continued the other, earnestly, "i agree never again to enter these mountains in search of the men who live here, and who believe they have a right to make this moonshine stuff as they please, whether the authorities down in washington let them or not. i've resigned as a marshal, phin. you and your friends will never have to think of me again as an enemy. and i suppose then that the curious public will never get the sight of this famous still of yours, that i boasted they would." "thet's whar yuh makes a mistake, suh," said the old man, with a wide grin. "i reckons now as it's a gwine to be ther trade mark ter be used on ther bottles. i be'n tole thet it ort ter help make sales, w'en they knows the new medicine, made outen roots an' yarbs got in ther mountings, an' wich cures all kinds o' shakes an' chills like magic, is manufactured in ther same old still as phin dady cooked moonshine stuff foh nigh on ten hull yeahs." "what's that?" exclaimed the late prisoner, while polly laughed softly, like one who sees a new life opening up before her. thad began to see glimpses of light. he remembered the strange words used by the girl from time to time. yes, there _had_ a change taken place; things were never going to be the same as they had been in the past. accident had opened the eyes of the old mountaineer, and he had discovered a way to make money, with the government for, not against him. "w'y, yuh see," he began, rather clumsily; when polly took the words from his mouth, being so full of the subject that she just could not hold in. "he used ter make up a kind o' medicine w'enever we gut ther shakes, an' it did the bizness the slickest yuh ever did see, suh," she started to say. "thar was a man as kim erlong heah, an' heerd 'bout hit. so he sez as how he'd like ter take a bottle erlong, and hev it tested. w'ich they done, an' writ as how it was sich a wonder thet p'raps dad, he cud supply ther trade. an' on'y yist'day he done gits a letter, suh, as binds ther bargain. old phin, he ain't agwine tuh make moonshine no moah. we's ameanin' tuh go tuh town, jest as soon's we heahs from ther people in washington, as these drug men hes gone ter see. yuh know hit wudn't be nice if they sot on my dad as soon as he showed up, an' locked him in prison, 'case as how he use ter make mounting dew on ther sly." crudely expressed as it was, thad understood the whole story now. it fairly took his breath away, it was so strange. to think of this gaunt old mountaineer having discovered a medicine that was going to prove as great a benefit to mankind as the stuff he had been hitherto manufacturing was a curse! it was almost too wonderful for belief. "do you mean that the gentlemen who mean to handle the product of your still in the future are trying to get the authorities to wipe all the past off the slate, and let your father start fresh?" asked mr. quail. "thems erbout hit, suh," polly replied, nodding her head. "hand we-uns 'spect ter live in town arter this, whar p'raps i kin wear a hat, an' hev sum shoes as hain't big ernuff fur a man, an' git some larnin' in school. soon's as we knows, we reckons on movin'." "and phin dady, perhaps i might be of assistance to you down at washington, once i get to a barber, and look something respectable," said the late prisoner. "d'ye mean thet ye don't hold no grudge agin me foh what i done tuh ye?" demanded the old moonshiner, evidently surprised. "that's just what i mean," replied the other, heartily. "outside of keeping me a prisoner, and even that was partly my fault, you've not been harder on me than one might expect. and i'm so happy now, with this noble lad by my side, and the knowledge that my wife still lives, that i couldn't bear you any ill feeling. i hope you'll be a big success in your new business; and here's my hand, if you care to take it." "hurrah!" cried bob, feeling like throwing up his hat when he saw the two men, enemies for so long, shaking hands in a friendly way. thad himself had never felt so light-hearted. it seemed as though all of their troubles had suddenly taken flight, and the future looked bright indeed. this hike through the blue ridge had turned out ten times more wonderful than any of them had ever dreamed, when the undertaking was first discussed, away up in cranford. it had given bob back a father whom he had believed was dead; and presently bertha, too, would be taken from the guardian who had no real legal right to her charge. the boy scouts would be able to go back to their home town with a feather in their hats, after accomplishing so many wonderful things. but how were they going to get down to the faraway camp? would mr. quail, who must be weak on account of having been kept in the cavern so long, be able to stand the rough trip? perhaps, after all, they had better stay there during the balance of the night, and wait for daylight to come. thad was perfectly willing to leave all this to the gentleman himself; and presently he became aware that they were even then discussing it. his long and bitter association with those cold walls, and that still, must have given mr. quail a dislike for the sight of them; because he expressed himself as only too willing to start down without delay. "it's true that i'm not as strong as i might be right now," he admitted; "but that weakness ought to pass away as i get the fresh air. besides, having my boy at my side will work wonders. yes, please do not let my condition keep us here one minute longer than is absolutely necessary." and so they all started down. since there was no longer any need for secrecy, polly carried the lantern along. after all, it was not such very hard work. with a light to show them what they had to avoid, and a pilot who knew every foot of the mountainside, they made very fair progress indeed. even mr. quail declared he was getting stronger all the time, as he drew in big quantities of the sweet mountain air, so different from that he had been enduring so long, tainted with the fumes of the still. once polly halted, and drew their attention to a light far down. "thet's yer fire," was what she said, simply; and both bob and thad allowed their gaze to fall upon the flicker with a sense of deep satisfaction; for they knew that they were about to prove to be messengers of good tidings to those tried and true comrades so anxiously awaiting their return. thad forgot that his feet burned, and that his muscles cried out in protest against such unusual exertion; the thing that had happened was of so wonderful a nature that every time he thought about it he told himself he ought to consider himself equal to the task of walking up and down hill all the remainder of the night, without a single groan or falter. now they were evidently drawing nearer the lower part of the mountain. glimpses they caught of the camp-fire told them this good news. besides, thad really began to recognize his surroundings. and he was not so very much surprised when polly suddenly stopped and pointing to the rock at her feet, remarked: "hit war right thar, dad, as i got cort by ther foot; an' on thet ledge yonder ther cat squatted, agrowlin' and spittin' like the ole nick, and meanin' tuh jump right on me. see, hyars a stick thet helped tuh beat him off. an' as yuh knows, 'twar this same boy, thad they calls 'im, as dun fixed uncle cliff up, so's nate an' tom, they cud fotch him acrost tuh ther doc. reckon we ort tuh do all we kin ter show 'em ther dady fambly hes gut feelins." "shore we ort, gal, an' we's agwine tuh do thet same," declared old phin. "we don't doubt it," said thad, more or less affected by these evidences of gratitude on the part of the mountaineer and his daughter. "what i did was only a little thing you know, that could hardly count." "but hit saved cliff's life, an' thet meant sumthin' foh him," the girl continued, with a shake of her tousled head. "come erlong, an' let's git down thar. reckons as how a cup o' coffee'd taste right good tuh yuh dad." "coffee!" echoed mr. quail, as though the very sound of the word touched his inmost feelings; "it'll seem like nectar for the gods just to smell it again, after--but no matter, it was the best they had, and i oughtn't to say anything." all the same thad noticed that his steps quickened a little, and he seemed to sniff the air from time to time, as if in imagination he could already catch a faint whiff of the treat in store for him. as they drew closer to the camp thad could see that some of the boys were sitting there. perhaps they had been too anxious to even try and sleep; though he believed he knew of one at least who could never have held out all this while, no matter how strong his determination. waiting until they had arrived within a certain distance, and there was no evidence that any one had noticed the descending lantern, thad gave vent to a call. it was the bark of the fox, and used by the members of the patrol as a signal in case they wished to communicate with one another. he saw the figures about the fire quicken into life. they seemed to jump to their feet, and stare about them, as if unable to understand what that call meant. a little to the surprise of thad his signal was repeated from a point close by, and immediately allan hollister showed up. undoubtedly the maine boy had been scouting around the borders of the camp, seeking to guard against any surprise. he had watched the coming of the group with the lantern, and guessed that two of them must be the missing comrades, thad and bob. when they all stalked into camp, the boys were thunderstruck to see old phin and his daughter, apparently on the best of terms with their comrades; and as for the tall man with the long hair and beard, they could easily guess who he must be by the way bob quail clung to his hand. then bumpus called for three cheers, and they were given with a vim that made the valley echo from side to side. possibly some of those moonshiner videttes must have started up, wondering what on earth could be occurring in the camp of the boy scouts. there was little chance that any of the boys would get a wink of sleep during the remainder of that eventful night. long did they sit there by the revived fire, watching mr. quail drink his coffee, cup after cup, and listening to the strangest story they had ever heard. even when finally, along about three in the morning, they were induced to lie down upon their various beds of leaves and grass, sleep must have utterly refused to visit their eyes, save in the case of bumpus himself; and he could drop into slumber in almost "any old position, even if he were hanging by his heels," as giraffe used to say. and so the night passed away, and another morning found them, red-eyed but joyful beyond compare; for they felt that their great hike among the mountains had turned out to be the finest thing possible, both for their comrade, bob, and themselves. chapter xxviii. home again--conclusion. the mountain hike had come to an end. one and all, the boy scouts declared that they had seen about enough of this wild country of the blue ridge, and would be glad to turn their steps toward dear old cranford. they believed they could find other ways to enjoy themselves that offered better inducements than climbing the sides of mountains, with suspicious moonshiners watching their every move. of course, now that old phin dady had taken them under his protection, they had no reason to fear any bodily harm. and what thad had done for cliff dorie must go pretty far toward making them friends among the ignorant mountain people. but because old phin meant to desert his former calling for one that would have the sanction of the law, did not mean that moonshine stuff would not continue to be made up in the dells back of the trail in the smoky range. there were many others who knew no other means for making a slim livelihood, than by cheating the government of the heavy tax it placed on strong drink. so the scouts decided, by a unanimous vote, that they had seen enough of these parts; and would hail with delight an order to turn their backs on it all. besides, did they not know that both bob and his father would be fairly wild to hasten to the waiting mother and wife in that northern home? they made the start as soon as they could get in marching order. polly and her father accompanied them through the mountains. this was considered best, lest some suspicious moonshiner think it his duty to take a pot shot or two at those figures far down the valley, wearing the khaki uniform he hated. at every cabin they passed, the natives swarmed out to see the strange sight of old phin walking amiably by the side of the boy soldiers, as they supposed the scouts to be. once or twice there was an ugly demonstration, some of the natives fancying that the mountaineer must have surrendered, and was being carried off to jail. it took considerable explaining to get these people to understand the truth about things, and that phin was on the best of terms with the boys. finally he dared go no further, because as yet he did not know what success his agents, the drug men, had in washington; and there was danger of revenue men sighting him at any moment, when trouble must break out, since there had been war between them for so long. when the little party of scouts turned up again in asheville, they found plenty to do there to keep them over until another day. first of all, mr. quail underwent a complete transformation at the hands of a barber; for he declared he believed the sight of him, in his present condition, with such long hair and beard, would be enough to send his poor wife into a fit, or else have her drive him from the door as a pretender. and when he appeared before the scouts, decently dressed in a new suit, which bob's money paid for, as he had none himself just then, bumpus voiced the sentiments of the entire patrol when he declared that mr. quail was as fine looking a gentleman as he knew. of course a message had been sent to cranford, to apprise bob's mother of the glorious result of his hike down in the blue ridge country, which they had once upon a time called home. it had to be very carefully worded, lest the shock to her nerves prove too great. and in another day, father and son hoped to be once more with the one who would not sleep a wink until her own eyes beheld the loved form which she believed had gone from her forever. then there was that affair concerning little bertha to be considered. great had been the indignation of mr. quail when, on examining the paper which bob had secured through the help of the girl, he realized all the rascality that reuben sparks had been guilty of. they held an interview with a well-known lawyer, who, on hearing the facts, and seeing the legal document, advised them to leave it all in his charge. "i promise you that this party will be summoned to appear forthwith, bringing his ward with him," this legal gentleman had declared; "and once within the jurisdiction of the court, it will be an easy matter to dispossess him. indeed, should he show fight, we can have him sent up for a term of years." with such a pleasant prospect before them, did the scouts leave the old tar-heel state. they had come down here for an outing, and to see what bob had once called his home; but the tour had turned out to be a more serious affair than any of them could ever have anticipated. and now they were on the way home again, filled with memories of the many events that had seasoned their brief stay in the land of the sky; home to familiar scenes and to look upon faces that were dear to them. a jolly party they were on the train that bore them away toward the north. bob and his father sat by themselves, for they had a thousand things to talk about, that concerned only their private interests. but the rest clustered at one end of the sleeper, and eagerly reviewed the stories they would have to tell. "oh! we'll have the greatest time ever, just showing the fellers how we did it," declared bumpus. "first of all, we'll get giraffe to wade into a creek, and explain how he was bein' pulled down by that sucking quicksand, when the prompt arrival of the rest of the bunch saved his precious life. i always heard that when one's just born to be hanged there ain't no use tryin' to get rid of him by any other means; which i guess stands for quicksand too." "that sounds mighty fine, bumpus," remarked giraffe, unmoved by the laughter greeting the proposition; "but just think what a great stunt it'll be when we get davy jones here showing 'em what he c'n do dropping down head-first into a bully old camp-fire, and swimmin' in red coals. that ought to bring down the house; if only we c'n coax him to do it over again." "not much you will," declared the said davy, looking ruefully at sundry red marks on both his wrists, that served to remind him of the accident. "once is enough for me; and i tell you right now, fellows, if ever i _do_ climb a tree again, to exercise, i'm going to be mighty careful i don't hang down over a blaze. there's such a thing as takin' too many chances." "a burnt child dreads the fire," sang out step hen. "hello! are you there, old sobersides?" remarked giraffe, pretending to be surprised; "now, we all of us thought you might be busy writin' out in your mind a treatise on how to be happy watching a tumble-bug try to roll his big ball uphill; or else what lessons can be gained by watching the humble beetle in his never-say-die act as a gymnast. but i see you've got your badge right-side up to-day, all to the good, step hen; what wonderful stunt have you been pulling off now?" "oh! it didn't amount to much, i guess, fellows; but then even a little speck of kindness counts, they say," remonstrated step hen. "i happen to know," remarked thad, breaking into the conversation; "for i was just coming into that other ordinary car, when i saw our comrade doing himself proud. perhaps it _is_ only a little thing for a boy to notice that a poor woman with three kids clinging to her skirts, and a baby in her arms, wants to get a bottle of milk warmed, and don't know just how to manage it; and to offer to do it for her; but let me tell you, that poor tired mother said 'thank you, my boy' just as if it meant a _heap_ to her! yes, step hen, you had a right to turn your badge; and i only hope you find as good a chance to do it every single day, as you did on this one." and giraffe became suddenly silent. perhaps something within told him that he too had passed that same weary mother; and if he thought anything at all at the time it was only to wonder why a woman could be so silly as to travel with so many children. "well, you see," remarked step hen, feeling that some sort of explanation was expected from him, after the scoutmaster had given him the "spot light" on the stage. "i got to talkin' with her afterwards, and she told me that the children's paw had just died down south, and she was on her way home to her mother's. after hearin' that, fellers, i wanted to do anything more i could for the poor thing; and i did jump off at the last station, and buy the kids some sandwiches, 'cause, you see, they didn't have a great lot to munch on. but it was worth while to watch 'em gobble the snack of chicken i got along with 'em, like they hadn't had a bite to eat this livelong day." thad walked away, satisfied that step hen was proving his worth as a scout. that little lesson of the humble bug had opened his eyes, and through those touched his heart. perhaps he might not change all at once, for he was inclined to stumble, and fall down, when he had made good resolutions; but the chances were he would see more in life than ever before. and that is what a scout wants to do, keep his eyes open all the while, in order to notice many of the strange things that are happening every minute of the day all around him; until he learns to do that which will give him the greatest treat that could possibly happen to any one. time was when step hen might have passed that poor mother, and never have given her a second thought; but it was different now. and the strange thing about it, in thad's mind, was that an obscure little tumble-bug, one of the lowliest of all created things, could have succeeded in showing step hen that he had a heart; and that even a boy can find chances to do kindly acts, if he looks for them. "well," said bumpus, as they huddled together in a bunch, exchanging views and watching the mountains and valleys as they were whirled past, "if we could have the say right now where the silver fox patrol would spend next vacation, where d'ye reckon it would be?" "let's take a vote!" suggested step hen. "that's the ticket, mr. secretary, get eight ballots ready, and let's write first choice and second, majority rules," and the patrol leader nodded in the direction of his chum allan, just as much as to say it was easy to guess what one vote would be. "count as i call out, bob white. here goes now: maine first choice, rocky mountains second." "hurrah!" cried bumpus. "another for maine, with the saskatchewan country of canada second," thad went on; "but this comrade forgot that as american boy scouts we do not want to spend our money and vacations in a foreign land." when the eight ballots had been counted, strange to say maine was first choice with every one, and the rockies well in the lead as second. "move we make it unanimous," laughed giraffe, which was duly done according to statute. "much good that will do, with a whole year to wait, because it wouldn't pay to go up into maine for only christmas week," grumbled step hen. but strange to say it was decreed in a most remarkable way that the wish expressed by the scouts should be made an actual fact, and just how this came about the reader will find duly set forth in the third volume of this series entitled, "the boy scouts on the trail, or scouting through the big game country." in due time the scouts arrived at cranford station, where their coming had been anticipated; for the story of how the boys had found the missing husband of mrs. quail had somehow gotten around, since cranford had its gossips. one of these happened to be calling on the lady at the time bob's telegram arrived. of course its nature was such as to give mrs. quail a shock, though she quickly recovered; but there had been ample time for the visitor to glance at the message, between dabs at the face of the fainting lady with a handkerchief wet with cologne. and that was how the news got out. "look at the crowd, would you?" gasped bumpus, as he poked his head out of the door, and saw what seemed to his excited imagination about the whole of cranford filling the home station, and craning necks in the endeavor to be the first to glimpse the resurrected father of bob quail. "hurrah for the boy scouts!" some one called out. they were given with a rush and a roar that brought other passengers hurrying to the windows of the cars, to see what popular hero it could be arriving home, to excite such a tremendous demonstration. "hurrah for thad brewster!" called a second school-boy, as the young scoutmaster stepped off the train, bearing certain bundles, that might be a haversack and a take-down shotgun. another wave of applause went sweeping up from the crowd. "three cheers for bob quail, and his dad!" shrilled yet another enthusiast; upon which the echoes were fairly awakened by the racket. the scouts fell into line, and two and two marched along the station platform; for mr. quail had already taken his wife into his arms, and they had retired to the interior of the little building, in order to be less conspicuous while they talked it all over. bumpus sounded his bugle, and the boys kept step as they walked along, with heads up, and feeling that they had gained the right to feel a bit proud, after what they had gone through. the crowd pushed after them, still shouting, and making a great clamor. and from one of the car windows looked a bevy of childish faces, back of which was the wan one of the tired mother; step hen disobeyed the rules for one second only, when he turned, and waved his hand to his little friends of the train. seeing which thad brewster said softly to himself: "i warrant you that little woman believes all this noise is meant for just one boy, and he the fellow who was so kind to her; because, in her sight step hen is a real hero, and this racket is meant especially for his home-coming." the end. the boy scouts series by herbert carter [illustration] for boys to years all cloth bound copyright titles price, cents each new stories of camp life the boy scouts' first campfire; or, scouting with the silver fox patrol. the boy scouts in the blue ridge; or, marooned among the moonshiners. the boy scouts on the trail; or, scouting through the big game country. the boy scouts in the maine woods; or, the new test for the silver fox patrol. the boy scouts through the big timber; or, the search for the lost tenderfoot. the boy scouts in the rockies; or, the secret of the hidden silver mine. the boy scouts on sturgeon island; or, marooned among the game-fish poachers. the boy scouts down in dixie; or, the strange secret of alligator swamp. the boy scouts at the battle of saratoga; a story of burgoyne's defeat in . the boy scouts along the susquehanna; or, the silver fox patrol caught in a flood. the boy scouts on war trails in belgium; or, caught between hostile armies. the boy scouts afoot in france; or, with the red cross corps at the marne. * * * * * for sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers a. l. burt company - east rd street new york the golden boys series [illustration] by l. p. wyman, ph.d. dean of pennsylvania military college. a new series of instructive copyright stories for boys of high school age. handsome cloth binding. price, cents each. the golden boys and their new electric cell the golden boys at the fortress the golden boys in the maine woods the golden boys with the lumber jacks the golden boys on the river drive * * * * * for sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers. a. l. burt company - east rd street, new york * * * * * transcriber's note: obvious punctuation errors were corrected. page , "granford" changed to "cranford" (home town of cranford) page , "allen" changed to "allan" (command, was allan) page , "allen" changed to "allan" (looked to allan) page , "in" changed to "it" (is it, right here) page , "knicked" changed to "kicked" (beast kicked up his) page , "pome" changed to "poem" (that stirring poem) page , "neen't" changed to "needn't" (needn't be afraid) page , "moat" changed to "mote" (mote out of your) page , "at" changed to "apt" (are apt to interest) page , "happennings" changed to "happenings" (of the queer happenings) page , "supose" changed to "suppose" (i suppose we've) page , "putties" changed to "puttees" (their puttees protected) page , "tournaquet" changed to "tourniquet" (making a tourniquet) page , "too" changed to "to" (going to tell you) page , "allen" changed to "allan" (direction, too," added allan) [illustration: a few rapid and accurate strokes with the pick loosened the hard earth. (page ) frontispiece] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- the boy scout treasure hunters or the lost treasure of buffalo hollow by charles henry lerrigo illustrated by charles l. wrenn published with the approval of the boy scouts of america publishers barse & hopkins new york, n. y.--newark, n. j. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- copyright by barse & hopkins the boy scout treasure hunters printed in the united states of america ----------------------------------------------------------------------- to my son frank lerrigo in the hope that it may help him to be a "good scout" ----------------------------------------------------------------------- contents chapter page i glen mason runs away ii a friend and a foe iii jolly bill is considerably upset iv how mother cares v treacherous indians at buffalo lake vi getting acquainted vii glen is initiated viii matt burton's treasure find ix glen enlists x j. jervice and his gang xi glen follows a false trail xii the bee tree xiii the chase on the motor-bike xiv safe at camp buffalo xv strength and loyalty xvi detective matty xvii the end of the jervice gang xviii glen and apple find the cave xix buried in the cave xx the treasure of buffalo lake xxi what became of them ----------------------------------------------------------------------- illustrations page a few rapid and accurate strokes with the pick loosened the hard earth frontispiece "brave man!" sneered the leader. "get me a little rope an' i'll do him up scientific" glen watched the three walk back up the road at a lock-step gait with the lighted lanterns they could get a better idea of their surroundings ----------------------------------------------------------------------- the boy scout treasure hunters chapter i glen mason runs away it was the supper hour at the state industrial school for boys, known to the general public as "the reform school." glen mason sat on a long bench trying to hold the place next to him against the stealthy ravages of the boys who crowded him. "where's nixy?" he inquired angrily of his neighbor on the right. "did he go to town again?" "he's back," the boy replied. "just got in an' had to go up and change his clothes. had the toothache again to-day, he told me. here he comes, now." a lanky boy of fifteen or sixteen got into the vacant seat just as the chaplain rose to say grace. after grace no loud talking was permitted, but no objection was made to whispered conversations that did not become too noisy. "how's it come you go to town so often and i don't ever get to go, nixy?" whispered glen, the moment grace was ended. "one thing you don't have the toothache, another thing you get too many demerits. the fellows that get to town have to go thirty days without a black sign. you never could do it, glen." "i could if i wanted. i'm twenty days now. wouldn't hurt me to go another ten. if i went to town alone i'd never come back." "it ain't so easy, glen. you have to wear your uniform so everybody knows what you are. if you aren't back by six o'clock they have the police after you. the old man made a great talk about his honor system, but as long as you have to wear your uniform there's plenty of people to watch you." "i could find a way to get around that," insisted glen. "well, so could i. i've got one all planned out that i'm going to work some day. i'll get leave to go to the dentist late some afternoon. the car to come back leaves his office at five o'clock. he doesn't want to stay until five because he goes off to play golf. so he'll leave me in his waiting-room when he goes. i'll have a suit of overalls rolled up under my uniform. soon as the doctor goes i'll change my clothes. you can't get out without being seen but i'll hide right there in the building till it closes and then get down the fire-escape." "i guess somebody'd see you go down and a policeman would get you." "i guess they wouldn't. i wouldn't try till late at night when there wasn't anybody around. then i'd pick a dark night, and that fire-escape is in the back end of the building, so i guess there wouldn't nobody see me." "oh, mebbe there wouldn't. supposin' you did get away. where'd you go?" "i'd have that all fixed. i'd put on my other clothes and pitch my uniform away and that night would get me twenty-five miles where nobody'd think of looking for me." "oh, i dunno. i guess you'd be easy picked up. anybody could tell you a mile off. all to do is to look for a broom handle out walking all by itself." "broom handle yourself, glen mason. i've got the makings of a big man if ever i'd get enough to eat." "you go high enough up to be a big man, but you've stretched too much. if you'd ever learn to be a contortionist and tie yourself into three knots close together, you'd do better." "you're always saying something mean. i wish i hadn't told you my plan at all." "i won't do anything to your old plan." "i ain't so sure. 'twouldn't be above ye to steal it." "i s'pose you dare me to do it." "yes, i dare ye to do it." "an' you think i'd steal a plan from a mate?" "i think you'd do anything." there were many who had just as poor an opinion of glen. he himself found it remarkably easy to do mean and low acts and had almost ceased to wonder at himself. every day seemed to find a lower level for his setting. nixon had correctly guessed his thoughts. already he was turning over in his mind the feasibility of nixon's plan of escape and wondering if he could himself take advantage of it. he had been in the reform school over a year, but it had not reformed him. the new superintendent, with his kindness, had won the hearts of many of the most wayward boys, but no impression had he made on glen. as a matter of fact the boy rather laughed at his foolishness. to put boys on their honor, to trust the merit boys to go into town without guard, all was new policy, and the only interest glen had in it was to take advantage of it. let him get one single chance to go to town alone and the reform school would see no more of him. just what he would do he did not know. sometimes a fleeting thought of going home to see the mother whose heart must be almost broken by his waywardness and the young sister and brother who were carefully guarded from knowledge of the disgrace he had brought upon them would come to him. but though he was supposed to be dead to impulses for reform there always crept into his mind the desire that his return home should be only when he had enough money and enough honor so that he should not be welcomed as a penitent but as a conquering hero. glen was much given to great thoughts of the mighty things he would do and the high stations he would occupy. unfortunately his pride of thought had never made him insist that his inclination yield to right instead of to desire. glen mason's fault was easily summed up--he desired always his own way and had so allowed this inclination to fill his life that he was utterly regardless of others. given his own way he was a pleasant chum, a good friend and a brave comrade. when glen wanted a thing very badly he would go to great lengths to get it. having set for his goal the thirty days of good behavior marks he was bound to win it, though greatly to the surprise of the officers who had never known glen to pass so long a time without fracturing a great number of rules. no sooner was his time up than he asked leave to go to town to visit the dentist. the superintendent was rather disturbed by the request. he had been both pleased and surprised by glen's good behavior. now that the boy had earned the privilege of going to town without guard he did not wish to spoil his good work by a refusal to trust him. yet he was suspicious. he asked that glen be sent to the office. "why do you want to go to the dentist, glen?" he asked kindly. "what attention do your teeth need?" glen was confused. so far as he knew his teeth were sound as bullets. he had not sunk to the place where lies were easy of expression. "i don't know just what, sir," he stammered, wishing that he could think of something. "the dentist will know what they need." this was as good an answer as he could have made, although stumbled on by chance. "you want the dentist to go over them to find what is the matter, do you?" said the soft-hearted superintendent. "yes, sir. i want the dentist to find what is the matter." "it isn't a bad idea," said the superintendent. "it won't be necessary for you to go to town, though, for the dentist is coming out here next week." "but i don't want to wait until next week," cried glen. "i want to go to-day. i want him to pull one out." "which one?" inquired the superintendent. it made little difference to glen which tooth he denoted for the sacrifice. now that he had told the lie he would stay by it. he pointed to a big double tooth and resolved that he would remember it. the superintendent looked at the tooth and at the boy. "perhaps you don't know how much that tooth is worth?" "no, sir," agreed glen. "a very conservative price is a hundred dollars, at your age. you wouldn't throw a hundred dollars away." "no, sir; but i want it pulled." it was all very well to talk of a hundred dollars, but when glen had his mind set on a matter he would make any sacrifice. "well, you must not have it pulled. but have the dentist look at it. i will give you a pass for this afternoon. you will wear your uniform, walk to the car line and take the street car to the dentist's office. let me ask you one thing, glen. don't forget to come back." it was as if the superintendent read his thoughts. glen changed color and looked foolish. he could think of only one thing to say. "at what time, sir?" "you will be in by six o'clock. as you go to town and see the boys at liberty on the streets remember that if you keep up your good behavior you may soon be paroled and be as free as they. all you have to do, glen, is to keep it up." as he went to put on his uniform, the hated uniform that made it so hard for him to lose himself in the crowd, glen realized better how it was that nixon and some of the others who had been given liberty in town had never violated their trust. it seemed abominably mean and small to go back on a man like this. he actually began to have his own doubts. but it was very hard for glen mason to give up anything on which he had set his heart. there were several things went wrong which were quite disturbing. in the first place he was obliged to change his clothing under the eye of the physical director which utterly spoiled any scheme of hiding a suit of overalls under his uniform. the walk to the street car and the ride to the doctor's office would have been very enjoyable had not every one stared at him and his uniform. more than once he heard some one say "there goes a reform school boy." then the dentist did all manner of things in his efforts to find the nonexistent aching tooth. finally he did find an area of tenderness in an entirely different tooth to the one specified. "does this tooth hurt you more than the others!" he asked. "it does," glen agreed, quite truthfully, an involuntary "ouch" following his words. "i thought as much," the doctor observed. "it is often hard to locate the pain definitely. the nerve reflexes are responsible for it. i will now drill into this and see what we find." "do you have to drill?" asked glen. "surely. have to clean out all the old decayed tooth before i fill it. i often give the boys from the school a little sermon by telling them the bad has to be cleaned out before you get sound living." "make it as easy as you can," glen requested. "yes, of course. but cleaning out decay often hurts." it did hurt but glen would have fainted rather than make an outcry. the doctor stepped to the 'phone and called up the superintendent. "it's all right with the mason boy," he said. "i've done all i can to-day for him. i'm leaving now. what shall he do until time for his car." he turned to glen as he received a reply. "you are to wait until five o'clock in my reception room and then take the inter-urban car," he said, locking the inner office when they passed out. "i am leaving a little early to-night." before he left he stepped into a little closet which led out of the reception room and changed his office clothes. glen's eyes sparkled. his problem was solved. at five o'clock glen mason rode down in the elevator to the ground floor and asked the elevator man how he could identify the inter-urban car. but instead of leaving the building he dodged back to the stairway as soon as the elevator had started on its return trip and ran stealthily up the stairs and again entered the dentist's reception room. it was empty. glen boldly entered the little closet and dressing himself in the dentist's office clothes made a bundle of his uniform. the closet was both deep and high. he climbed to the top shelf and shoved his bundle far back over its wide surface against the wall. he dared not risk going out in the doctor's clothing in daylight. he must stay until the building was deserted and use the fire escape. his great fear was lest some one should come to the reception room. the only safeguard was concealment in the hot, dark closet. he waited hours without any disturbance. he felt sure that it must be almost midnight. stealthily he opened the door of the closet and stepped to a window. it was still daylight, though the sun was setting. he returned to his closet. it must have been some hours afterward that he heard footsteps and voices outside the door. in sudden desperation he climbed up and lay flat on the wide shelf where he had hidden the uniform. someone opened the door of the closet, glanced inside and shut it again. "i tell you i took him down about five o'clock and showed him his car. he ain't here," said the voice of the elevator man. "i have to make sure," replied his companion. glen knew the voice for that of one of the school officials. so already they were seeking him! after all was quiet glen ventured to open the closet door and peep out. it was dark now but there were lights in the hall. after a long time they were extinguished and the building seemed deserted. the last late worker departed. the elevator ceased its rhythmic motion. glen waited yet longer for a time and then crept down the hall to the fire-escape, which he made out by a red light. it was a dark night, but, nerved to the act, he made no hesitation as he swung himself out on to the iron bars. it was an old-fashioned escape, bars at wide intervals so close to the wall as to leave hardly a toe hold. down, down he went, not daring to look to see where he was going but clinging fast and letting one step follow another. then suddenly the ladder stopped. feel as he would, in this direction or in that, there were no more steps. he had known of fire-escapes ending ten or twelve feet from the ground with an extension which might be lowered. but he found no extension. he looked down, but it was black night and he could see nothing but shadowy outlines. looking up, the ladder soon disappeared in the darkness. there was no sense in mounting again. he let down his legs as far as he could reach, with his body balanced on his elbows, then he let himself hang by his hands and kicked out in the hope of finding some landing. there was nothing to be felt but the brick wall. his arms grew tired as he swung. his efforts to draw up again were ineffectual. in desperation he swung off into space. splash! he was choking and gasping in water! chapter ii a friend and a foe splashing about in his watery quarters glen speedily discovered that he had fallen into an enormous rain barrel. he was able to reach the top with his hands, and lost no time in drawing himself up and crawling over the side. then he stood in the shelter of the barrel and wrung a gallon or so of water out of the doctor's clothes. when the job was finished he had pretty well destroyed the identity of that suit of clothing. the draggled, wrinkled and stained garments bore no resemblance to the neat office suit. his mishap had given material help in effecting a disguise. he struck out away from the town and met no one to interfere with him as he walked along the quiet residence streets. just at the edge of the city he was attracted by a great illumination. it was the electric lighting of a park, which even at that hour was thronged with visitors. the boy who had been shut up for a year and more looked hungrily through the great entrance way. it was free to all. he walked cautiously in, keeping a suspicious eye wide for policemen; for though he thought he was free he was in bondage to his guilty conscience. of the many attractions the one which made the greatest appeal to glen--and the only one he could afford, for his sole fortune was the nickel he had for car-fare--was the merry-go-round with its gaudy horses and its gurdy tunes. he bought a ticket and mounted one of the turbulent steeds with a little thrill of anticipatory pleasure. the music began, the movement gradually quickened, and he was just giving himself up to the pleasure of it when he saw working toward him, on the inside running-board, a man collecting tickets. on his coat was the nickeled badge of a constable. glen did not know that he was a special officer for the sole purpose of protecting his own outfit against rowdies. in his eyes it was the approach of the law. although they were now swinging round at a good rate he slipped from his horse and jumped, at peril of his neck. the sight of an official badge struck terror to his soul. so it was wherever he went. he saw in every man an officer. one might have supposed the park policed by an army. he had just dodged one of the two real park policemen when he overheard a momentous conversation. a man from the bathhouse came by. "anything doing, jake?" he asked the officer. "nothing much," replied the policeman. "they 'phoned us a boy got away from the reform school. they think he might just have come out to the park for fun and overstayed. ain't seen any one, have ye?" "not me." "well, if he's in here we'll get him as he goes out. i'll watch one gate and barney the other." so they were on the look out for him. but there was nothing in his present clothing to suggest the reform school boy, and though he was hatless there were numbers of hatless boys in the park. there were many people of all kinds, in fact, and if he went with the crowd, he could surely slip out unnoticed. yet he feared to attempt to pass the representative of the law at the gate. how conscience doth make cowards of us all! it was a good deed, done impulsively, that solved glen's problem. an automobile was passing. the occupants were all watching the bathers in the lake, excepting a little chap of three who had seized the opportunity to climb over the door with the evident idea of jumping to the ground. when glen saw him he was poised on the running board ready for his jump. like a flash glen jumped for the footboard of the moving car and interposed his body as an obstacle to the little fellow's leap. the women in the car screamed and the man who was driving stopped his car in surprise at the intrusion. it was only when glen hauled the little boy up to view that they saw what he had done. "i am jonathan gates," said the man, offering glen his hand, "and this is my wife and daughter. we don't know how to thank you for saving that little scamp from harm." "we might at least take you back into town," suggested mrs. gates. "but i am going west, into the country," said glen. "that is still better," said mr. gates. "we live eight miles west of here and will take you wherever you say." "i'll go just as far as you go," glen replied. "i live away out west and am on my way on foot. every mile is a help." they passed through the gates without any notice from the officer who was watching for an escaped reform school boy, and glen felt safe again. "we have not visited the park in a long while," explained mrs. gates, "and it was all new to us. that is why we lost sight of jack. he was very anxious to run back and see the monkeys again." "i have never been there before at all," said glen. "and i am glad i saw this monkey. i was passing and i just went in by chance." "not chance," said mr. gates. "let us say providence. our boy might have been badly hurt or even killed. certainly you were led by providence, or i would rather be more definite and say the hand of god." "oh i don't know. i guess not," stammered glen, greatly embarrassed. he wondered what mr. gates would say if he knew that he came to the park in running away from the reform school. he had not yet learned that the power of god may even overrule our evil for good. but he was quite willing to agree that his good fortune in meeting the gates family might be god's providence. he felt his good fortune still more when mrs. gates insisted that he must stay with them at least one night. he yielded, thinking that he would get up very early and slip away before they were astir in the morning. but the excitement of the day had such an effect that he overslept and did not waken until called to breakfast. the effect of this family was something such as glen had never known. all they knew of him was his name, but they took him at his word. they accepted his statements without a question--a most unusual thing in his experience. they showed him every kindness. at breakfast mr. gates heaped his plate with good things. they were so cordial in their invitation to stay and rest for awhile that he could not refuse them. they showed to him such a spirit of love as made him feel that, after all, christian people were different from others, and to begin to be sorry that he had taken advantage of the good, old superintendent. they planted in his softened heart seeds of kindness and love which were bound to blossom. glen stayed two days, and might have remained longer, but on the morning of the third day, coming down early, he picked up the day-old paper which mr. gates had been reading. it was folded back at a place which told of his disappearance from the reform school. he was ashamed to look again in their faces, so he stole out the back way, passed through the barn, and thus made his way out into the dusty road. his thoughts, as he trudged along, were far from cheerful. although he had strong, boyish desires to fare forth into the world alone, he much disliked to leave this cheery home. had he been a clean, honorable boy with a good record he might have stayed there and learned to be a man. his gloomy thoughts were diverted by the sight of a man who seemed to be having troubles of his own. he was down at the side of an automobile, perspiring freely and vexed with the whole world as he unsuccessfully labored at changing a tire. the automobile was no ordinary car. it had a driver's seat in front and a closed car behind like the closed delivery wagons glen had seen in town. bright colored letters announced to the world that j. jervice supplied the public with a full line of novelties, including rugs, curtains, rare laces and jervice's live stock condition powders. "can i help you," volunteered glen. it is worthy of note that the service was freely offered before the man spoke so much as a word. it had not been glen's habit to volunteer help. he was feeling the influence of the home he had just left. the offer was not kindly received. the man's reply was so churlish as to leave open the suspicion that he was not naturally a man of pleasant ways. "garn away f'm here," he snarled. "i don't need no boys spyin' around my car." "who's spyin'?" asked glen defiantly. "you seem to need somebody pretty bad. you ain't man enough to strip that tire off." "nor nobody else wouldn't be," declared the man. "leastways nobody with jest one pair of hands. while i pry it off one end it slips back on the other. are you strong?" he asked, stopping to look at glen. "i'm pretty stout for my age," admitted glen, modestly, "but i don't want to help nor spy, if you don't want me." "i could use another pair of hands," the peddler admitted. "i can't pay you nothing for it, though, unless it be a ride to town." "that is just what i want," agreed glen. "it's a bargain." the perspiration of mr. j. jervice had not been without occasion. the tire he was trying to change had done good service--it was, in fact, the very first tire that wheel had ever carried. perhaps it cherished fond hopes of remaining in service as long as the wheel to which it clung--at least it resisted most strenuously all efforts to detach it. both glen and the man were moist with their efforts before it came away, and they accumulated still more dirt and moisture in applying its successor. but at last it was all done, and glen had already mounted to the seat, while his companion was putting away his tools, when a cart drove up alongside and glen recognized in the driver, mr. gates. "what's the matter?" he asked, as mr. gates pulled up his horse. "what's the matter?" echoed mr. j. jervice; "this boy been doing anything?" it was not an unnatural question for there was something in mr. gates's look and in glen's questioning tone that betokened affairs out of the ordinary; furthermore, mr. j. jervice seemed to be so suspicious of people in general that one might well think he had something to conceal. "the boy's all right," replied mr. gates. "i have something to say to him, that's all. if he will come over here we will drive on a few feet while i say it." glen's thoughts flew back to the folded newspaper and he was instantly suspicious. "i don't want to get down," he said. "this gentleman's agreed to give me a ride to town and i don't want to keep him." "but i want you to stay," replied mr. gates. "i will take you to town if you wish, but first i want you to go back home with me and i will tell you something important." glen felt one of his old, unrestrained passions rising within him. "i know what you want," he cried. "i saw the newspaper. you want to send me back to the reform school." "i want to help you make a man of yourself," asserted mr. gates, unmoved by the boy's passion. "it's true i want you to go back to the school, but i will go with you and speak for you. you must go back because it is the only right way out. let me tell you, glen, you will never get over a trouble by running away from it. the manly and christian thing to do is to go back. and that is why i want you to do it." "and of course you don't want the reward of ten dollars that's always paid for returning a boy. you wouldn't take the money, would you?" if the eyes of mr. gates were saddened by this mean sneer those of mr. j. jervice were not. they lightened with a sudden interest, and he jumped into the battle for the first time. "this boy's a goin' with me," he told mr. gates. "he's earned a ride and i promised it and i'm a man of my word. you be off, now, and leave him alone." "you are spoiling his best chance," said mr. gates. "i am not interested in the school or the reward. i am simply trying to do my duty to the boy." "well, you've done it," cried mr. j. jervice, as his car gathered headway. "good-by to ye." he turned to glen as the car got into its speed. "so you've run away from the reform school, eh? and he was goin' to make ten dollars taking you back?" "oh, he didn't want the ten dollars," said glen, his rage all gone. "he treated me awful fine while i was at his house. i just said that because i was mad. but he can't get me to go back; nor nobody else unless they tie me up first." "i don't know?" said mr. j. jervice. "ten dollars is pretty near a week's pay for most men." "that wouldn't make any difference with him," said glen. "he's straight as a string." mr. gates would have been gratified to know how deep an impression his christian character had made on this boy who had flouted his kindness. mr. j. jervice was not inclined to conversation--he was puzzling over a problem something akin to that of the fox and the geese (he to be the fox). so they drove along in comparative silence until, topping a hill, glen exclaimed at the sight of the buildings of a large town. "are we almost there?" he asked. "about three miles yet," said mr. j. jervice. "what you going to do when we get there?" "i'm not sure, but i think i'd better leave you before we get to town. i don't believe mr. gates would telephone the police but somebody else might." "you can ride with me a couple o' miles yet. tell ye what ye can do. s'pose'n you get inside. there's lots o' room and there's a ventilator back o' this seat will give ye air. you be real careful and not go fussing around disturbing things. there's things there i wouldn't want ye to touch." it seemed a good idea. mr. j. jervice unlocked the doors in the back and glen stepped inside. the doors slammed behind him and he heard the heavy steel bar drop into its slots. then he heard something like a laugh--a foxy laugh. why should mr. j. jervice laugh? at once his suspicions were awakened. as mr. j. jervice climbed to his seat again glen shouted to him through the ventilator. "stop," he shouted. "i've changed my mind. i don't like being in here and i believe i'll take my chance with you on the front seat." mr. j. jervice paid no attention. chapter iii jolly bill is considerably upset the treachery of mr. j. jervice was now very clear. he had decided that he himself would hand glen over to the authorities and receive the ten dollars reward. since glen was almost as big as he, there had been some question how he should restrain the boy. he thought this all settled by his clever scheme, and the ten dollars practically in his pocket. no wonder he chuckled. but it is well for those who cage wild animals to be sure that the cage is properly prepared. glen looked around in the gloom of the car. he knew it was useless to bump against those solid doors. the way out lay through mr. j. jervice, and the time for getting out was very brief. on a shelf lay a bundle of sticks. he pulled on one and found on the other end a flag. it was an emblem. the flag should bring him freedom. glen found that the flag stick would just poke through the ventilator railing. being effectively poked it struck mr. j. jervice neatly in the back of the neck, and the poke being vigorous, it aroused his attention quite thoroughly. "stop that," he cried, hastily dodging. "them flags is worth a quarter apiece, and you'll break the handle." "stop and let me out," cried glen. "i can't stop now. i just made this change to accommodate you, remember. stopping and starting is awfully expensive--takes as much gasoline as running a mile. we'll be in town in five minutes." "and then you think you will sell me for ten dollars. you'll lose money on it, mr. jervice. i have a sharp, open knife in my hand. i'm going to turn loose on everything in--" "don't you dare," shouted mr. jervice. "but i will if you don't stop. you want to send me back to the reform school. all i'll get will be a little longer sentence. will that pay you for your goods?" mr. j. jervice reluctantly stopped his car. he saw ten dollars vanishing into the atmosphere. whether glen would have been as destructive as he threatened does not enter into this record. we are obliged to admit that at this time he was a wilful lad, and he was especially provoked at this man because he had dragged him from the counsel and aid of mr. gates for the sole purpose of his personal gain. it is enough for us to know that mr. j. jervice quite believed that a reform school boy with a knife was equal to anything. "everything in here is in just as good order as when i came in," said glen, when the doors were opened. "i earned this ride, so i don't owe you anything. now you stand away off and let me get out." there was no need to be so emphatic. mr. j. jervice was neither a big man nor a brave man, and had no idea of offering any opposition. he stood well aside as glen jumped from the car and ran away through the fields. one thing was very clear to glen. mr. j. jervice would certainly reach town in a few minutes and just as certainly would advise the authorities to look out for him. he might even come back with the officer, knowing that the boy would have but a short start. glen was standing by an abandoned stone quarry as these thoughts came to him. it contained many nooks and corners in which a boy might hide, and would be far safer for the present than tramping along the road or in the fields. so he picked out a secluded nook and lay there until evening. he watched eagerly for signs of an officer or mr. j. jervice, but also fruitlessly. had he but known it he was perfectly safe, for mr. j. jervice was again having troubles of his own. perhaps this was his day for trouble. spending a whole day cooped up in a little niche about ten feet long by three wide, even though it be as high as the heavens, is dreary work for a boy. the time dragged terribly. in his work on the school farm glen had learned to use the sun for a clock quite accurately, so there was no deceiving himself as to time. he had eaten a good breakfast before leaving the gates' home so there was no occasion for excessive hunger, but he did get very thirsty. looking down through the old quarry he fancied he saw a pump, and when the sun reached its noon zenith he crept cautiously down and satisfied his thirst. there was no one in sight, yet he felt afraid to venture toward the town before dark, and went back to his hiding place. on the way back he made a great find. some careless workman had left a mallet and chisel lying by a huge slab of stone. they were rusted by the weather but otherwise in good condition. glen took them to his hiding place and spent a great deal of the afternoon cleaning off the rust. then he began work on a rough block of stone which lay near and was greatly gratified at the result of his labors. so the afternoon slipped away without the dreariness of the morning. he was hungry now and tired and consumed with loneliness. his thoughts turned to the pleasant home he had just left with a great longing. they had given him good treatment--the gates family. he contrasted mr. gates with mr. jervice, stirring in his bosom a great indignation at the treachery of jervice, and also awakening a great trust and confidence in mr. gates. perhaps he was right after all. perhaps it would be a good thing for him to go back to the school, serve out his time, and then try to make a man of himself. if the school had been close at hand he would have gone at once, for the supper-time picture which rose to his mind, with the crowd of boys ready for their plain but wholesome food was a very attractive one just now. where his supper was to come from he did not know, for his only nickel had paid for the ticket to the merry-go-round. now that it was dark enough to make his travel safe he picked up his chisel and mallet and climbed up the side of the quarry. the tools gave him an idea. they were marketable and would surely provide a supper for him. he looked them over as closely as the fading light would allow but found no marks or initials to indicate the owner. so he felt a little more certain of his plans as he hurried along the road toward the town. he had no intention of going to a big store and offering the tools for sale. his choice would be rather a small general shop where he could get both food and a hat in exchange for his offering. he felt that the lack of a hat as he walked through the streets would be sure to attract attention. he found just the place he needed at the very outskirts of the town, a little "general utility store" designed to supply the needs of the dwellers in outlying houses who did not wish to go to town for every purchase. but the dealer was suspicious of a bareheaded boy in a man's suit of clothes offering to trade a mallet and chisel for a meal and a straw hat. "where did you get these things?" he asked, as he closely examined the tools. "i found them in the old quarry east of town," replied glen. "you found them! they don't look like tools that have been lying around in an old quarry." "no, sir. because i spent all afternoon cleaning them up." "i hope that's true, boy. i want to be fair with you. wait a minute while i make a few inquiries." he turned to the telephone; and even as he did so glen fled through the open door. it was unfair, miserably unfair, he told himself as he ran, and the hot tears filled his eyes. he had found these tools all rusty, and spent all afternoon cleaning them, and now this man was bound to call up the police. he did not stop to think that if he had been an honest boy with a good record calling up the police would have meant nothing to him. glen slowed his pace to a walk after a few blocks; a running boy was too conspicuous. every time he saw a man in any kind of a uniform he dodged out of his way. a street-car conductor on his way home, who passed near to him, gave him a great scare. and at last came a policeman who really did start after him; at least he walked in his direction and when glen started to run he ran too. glen was terribly frightened. he ran madly, not once looking behind, and therefore ignorant of the fact that after one block the officer gave up the chase after a boy who was probably playing some foolish joke. it was a hot night but the sweat on glen's face was caused as much by terror as by his exertion. he ran not knowing where he was going and at last hardly seeing. then he swung around a sharp corner, came into collision with some kind of a vehicle, and rolled over and over with it and its occupant into the gutter. glen lay panting from the chase he had given himself, for just a second, and in that second he felt a large hand grip his arm in a firm grasp. but it was not the policeman. beside him, with his head touching the curb, lay a strong young man. across their bodies was the vehicle which glen had overturned, something like a large baby buggy or a small invalid chair, with a steering wheel in front. no one came to their help, for glen had instinctively selected the quiet streets and this one seemed deserted save for them two. seeing no policeman in sight glen gained confidence. "let go of my arm," he cried. "i can't afford to just yet," replied the young man. "it's the only thing i've got to remember you by, unless you count this big bump on the back of my head." "i didn't mean to hurt you," said glen. "i reckon not. i suppose it was thoughtless for me to get in your way. you must have been going somewhere." "let me up. please let me up, and i'll tell you all about it. i want you to help me. it isn't fair. i'm not getting a fair show." "oh, that's the way, is it? well, you're at the right shop. nobody ever calls on jolly bill in vain. you get up and lift this automobile off my quivering frame and we'll see what we can do for you." glen crawled out and managed to lift the vehicle off the young man's body. "now you can get up, can't you," he asked. "with your kind assistance, noble sir." he raised himself to a sitting position as he spoke. "this is as far as i get without your aid." glen hardly knew how to help, though the conveyance told him that the young man was a cripple. "how shall i help you?" he asked. "are your legs paralyzed?" "worse than that, young fellow. my legs are dead and buried." "i'm awfully sorry," said glen, his heart stirred with sympathy. "i'm glad you have such strong arms. they certainly are alive." "that's the way to talk about it, boy. don't worry about what's gone. look at what you have left. that's what i try to do, and that's why they call me jolly bill. now, a big heave and i can stand on my pegs while you bring my billy-cart up this way." he was quite skillful about getting into his cart once glen had him in the right position. "now i'll let you push me home, boy--two blocks ahead and one to your right--and meantime you may tell me the sad story of your eventful career." "promise that you won't give me up," said glen. "whew! that sounds awfully interesting. you must be a desperate character, and that perhaps explains your peculiar mode of rapid transit. i'm so curious i promise." "it isn't so awfully bad," said glen, feeling that his new friend was poking fun. "i ran away from the reform school, that's all." "i don't know how bad that is," was the reply. "the question is are you reformed, are you reforming, or are you worse than ever?" "i want to reform," declared glen, the first confession of the kind he had ever made. "i suppose the best way to do it would be to go back to the school," suggested jolly bill. "that's what mr. gates said," admitted glen. "but i don't want to be taken back." "that sounds pretty fair. you don't want to be taken; you want to go. i want to go, but i have to be taken. i was hoping you were the boy to do some taking for me." "you mean take you around," exclaimed glen. "that's about what i mean. i'm an important personage and wherever i travel i have to have a body guard." "i'd like to do it better than anything in the world!" "i believe you're just the boy if the reform school could wait for you a week or two. i have a plan that will make me a fortune; but i can't work it out without a strong, energetic boy to help me." "i'm the boy," shouted glen. "try me. what is it?" "you won't give my secret away?" "never. upon my--" "upon your what?" "oh, i suppose you'd say i didn't have any." "you were going to say upon your honor. certainly you have honor. you make it every day. to prove my confidence i will tell you my secret. i was born in this neighborhood and lived here most of my life. a few years ago a terrible accident deprived me of my father and at the same time left me as you see me. i support my mother by selling real estate. twenty miles or so from here i know of a great fortune. but it is hidden away, buried, choked up and forgotten. i have tried to get my friends to hunt this out for me but they do not see things my way. so i need a strong healthy boy to help me, and together we will find this treasure." chapter iv how mother cares running away would be very popular with boys if they could be sure of finding such good friends as glen had met. the reverse is more commonly true. glen knew well enough that the boy on the road, trusting to chance for friends, is much more apt to fall a prey to people of the j. jervice variety. he remembered the pitiful plight of a boy who had been returned to the school after falling into the hands of tramps, and he thanked an unknown providence that he had tumbled into the kind arms of jolly bill. mother spencer was just as kind and cheerful as her son, though she neither made jokes nor appreciated those offered by will. "this is glen mason, mother," said jolly bill, when she came out to meet them. "after he had committed assault and battery on my delicate frame, i prevailed on him to bring home the mangled remains." "you are hurt, willie!" she cried in alarm. "your face is scratched and there is blood. is it serious?" "i shall recover," said will. "i have been in rather worse accidents. take a look at this other dusty, weary specimen. what do you recommend?" "i beg your pardon," she apologized to glen. "i was anxious about my boy. i am every time he goes out. i'll just show you up to the bathroom. there is plenty of hot water and soap and towels, and i'll bring you a clean suit that willie used to wear." glen reddened with embarrassment at this goodness. "maybe you'd better not," he protested. "you don't know who i am." "but i know what size you are," she insisted. "this old suit of willie's has been lying around for years, but it's perfectly good. now you take and put it on." "take it along and wear it," urged jolly bill. "it's been shut up in the closet so long it may turn two or three handsprings when it gets out in the sunshine, but otherwise it will fit you all right. mother's kept the moth out of it long enough." soaking in a tub of clean water after his hot and dusty day, with a nice suit of clean clothing ready to put on, glen felt that he was indeed fortunate. he actually concluded that he was getting better treatment than he deserved. he was still embarrassed by the thought, when he went downstairs and found will and his mother at the table. "i've told mother all about you," announced bill. "you have her official seal of approval." "don't mind what he says," interrupted mrs. spencer. "a boy who wants to do right always has a place with me. but you get a reserved seat because you're going to help willie." "i hope i'll be able to. i'll surely try." "oh, you're just the strong young fellow he needs. he's had the plan quite a while but so many people--" "not so very many, mother," interrupted will. "very few people know of it." "well, the people that you've told--you know how they have all acted or spoken as if it were a wild goose chase--" "they think so; that's their privilege." "no it isn't. they shouldn't think so. you've studied it out and you know it's as bright a thought as ever helped any man to a fortune and i'm glad this big boy is going to help you work it." "and then i'll be rich enough to buy you a home, and to go to that big hospital and get my old pegs fixed up so they can put artificial legs on me that i really can walk on." "i'm mighty glad to help," said glen. "i'd do most anything for folks as good as you." "there, mother; that's an unsolicited testimonial to your particular brand of goodness," said will. "he didn't talk a bit that way when he met me first. acted quite abrupt and seemed to want to get away." "i didn't know you then," objected glen. "i was trying to get away from everybody." "pretty good horse-power you were putting into it, too," observed will. "that reminds me, boy. it is now time for you to unroll the full history of your eventful career." "there isn't very much that matters, until a few days ago," began glen. "what's that?" asked mrs. spencer. "did you say not much that matters? how old are you?" "i was fifteen last may." "fifteen years ago last may! don't you know, glen, that something happened then that mattered a wonderful lot to one person, even if it didn't then matter much to you. and it's been mattering ever since, to her." "yes," agreed glen, "my mother, you mean." "yes, i mean your mother. and your father, too, as long as he lived. don't you suppose it mattered to them that their boy should be so--" she hesitated, groping for a word. "pigheaded!" volunteered glen. mrs. spencer looked shocked, and remonstrated: "why, glen! i didn't say anything of the kind--wayward was the word i wanted." but jolly bill clapped his hands in cheerful applause. "good boy, glen!" he exclaimed. "pigheaded is the word. bound to have your own way. bound to have what you want. no self restraint at all. if you want it, nothing will do but you must have it, good or bad. believe me, boy, that's the very word." "i wish you wouldn't interrupt me, willie," objected mrs. spencer. "i wasn't trying to preach a sermon to glen and i don't know why you should. what i want to tell him is that every little thing about a boy matters to mother. it's always important to her what he does, and if he does wrong to-day she is sure that he certainly will do better to-morrow. mother's going to be awfully glad when she hears about you, glen, and i want you to tell me where i can write to her this very day. now, go on and tell us about running away." glen was interrupted occasionally. "oh, did you say gates?" cried mrs. spencer. "was it jonathan gates?" "i believe i did hear his wife call him jonathan once or twice, though mostly they all called him 'father.'" "it must be they," said mrs. spencer. "they're just the people to take care of a boy that way. we know the gateses very well and they're the salt of the earth. i wonder you ever had the heart to leave them." glen told why he had left and then related his further adventures with j. jervice, his final escape, and his day of dread lest he should be apprehended. "i think i can tell you why mr. j. jervice didn't send after you," said will. "it's been his busy day. i just read about it in the evening paper. excepting that it was funny i wondered what excuse they had for giving it so much space. but i now see why it is important. look at this!" he handed glen the paper folded back to a column headed: "peddler in wrong pew." "every good citizen knows of the new license ordinance but not every peddler. one came briskly to the county clerk's office this morning. he was not too rushed to stop and sell a patent tie clip to a man at the door. "'i'm a traveling merchant,' said he to our genial county clerk. "'very good,' said the clerk. 'i see you are doing a little business.' "'pretty fair,' agreed mr. peddler. 'but that ain't what--' "'hold on a bit,' interrupted the clerk. 'first thing is a license.' "'i've got something more important, just now,' urged the peddler. 'i want to tell you about--' "'first things first,' persisted our efficient clerk. 'you must pay a license to peddle in this county.' "'but i don't want to peddle now. i want to lodge--' "'one thing at a time. you may lodge longer than you want if you break our ordinances. get your license. five dollars!' "'but i don't want a license. i want to give information--' "'no, no! you want to get information (our clerk is just bound to have his way). 'you should have information about our new license fee. every peddler must pay it.' "'i'll not pay it. five dollars is more'n i could make in a whole day, and i don't aim to be in your county that long. i'll go on.' "'too late. you've made one sale that we know of. five dollars or--' "'i can't, mister. i can't pay that. you, just forget about it an' i'll tell you how we can divide ten dollars, easy money.' "'trying to bribe a county officer! that's worse and worse. here, mr. sheriff, you'd better look after this man.' "the man's name was j. jervice and he found five dollars in his clothing before the sheriff had fully clamped his grip. he went away in great wrath, taking with him not only the objectionable license but also the valuable secret which was worth ten dollars--easy money. "the honest merchant who has a regular route does not object to the license. the objections come from these itinerant peddlers, who claim that they are just passing through. our county officers will insist upon payment. they do not fear to discourage their visits for these fly-by-nights are the very men who cheat our citizens, sometimes stealing under guise of a sale and sometimes stealing outright. we do not say that this peddler looked suspicious, but we observed our sheriff taking a good mental picture of him." "good-by, mr. j. jervice," exulted glen, as he laid down the paper. "i don't care if i never meet you again." "but i'm not sure that you won't," said jolly bill, with a purpose to tease. "now that mr. jervice has had to pay a five dollar license fee, all because he loved you so and wanted to see you safe home, he'll be apt to look for you." "he'd better not come near this house," declared mrs. spencer, energetically. "i'll give him a piece of my mind if i see him, i can tell you." "i surely hope he'll come," said jolly bill. "he deserves all he can get." but neither jolly bill, mrs. spencer nor glen were to be gratified with a sight of mr. jervice immediately, although they were by no means through with him. later in the evening after glen had given mrs. spencer very efficient aid in helping her crippled son to his bed on the ground floor, she showed the boy up to a cozy little bedroom where he was to spend the night. "have a good night, son," she said. "i'm so glad you are going to help my boy, because you look like a boy with grit and determination, and i'll feel safe about him with you looking after him. it means a lot to us just now. it isn't so much that i care about the money, although willie insists that i must have this home all clear of debt. but the main thing with me is to see my boy able to take care of himself. there's a place in new york where they can operate on him and then fix him up so he can walk all by himself. all we need is the money. it will be such a joy to me. good night!" chapter v treacherous indians at buffalo lake it was a couple of days later before mr. william spencer (sometimes known to his fellow citizens as jolly bill) fully explained to glen the method by which he hoped to increase their fortunes. he had taken glen into his home, had fed and provided for him and had given him some clothing. an automobile had brought them the twenty miles of their journey, early that morning, and had left them with their belongings at the house of a farmer, with whom spencer was evidently on the best of terms. now they stood on a knoll overlooking what seemed to glen to be nothing but an immense field of growing corn. "there is our fortune," said spencer. "that field of corn?" asked glen. "that is buffalo hollow and i repeat that there lies our fortune." "and how are we to get it?" "that is your job. that's why i brought you." "what do you expect me to do. take a spade and dig?" "perhaps! we shall see. sit down while i tell you about this place. buffalo mound, over there, is the highest ground in this country. from its summit you can see into six counties. this big field before us is buffalo hollow. when i was a little chap i was told a great story about this by an old indian. he said that years ago the hollow was a beautiful lake fed by springs from buffalo mound. some freighters carrying bullion camped here and were slaughtered by indians. to hide the bullion until they could dispose of it they threw it in the lake. when they returned they could not find it readily, so they dammed the springs and drained the lake. makes quite a romantic story, doesn't it?" "yes, but did it ever happen?" "i believe there is some record of such a thing, but my private opinion is that the draining was done by some stingy owner who had little use for a lake and thought he saw an opportunity to secure twenty acres of good bottom land. probably he thought he was a great economist. but as a matter of fact he did a very foolish thing. this prairie country is poverty stricken so far as lakes and woods are concerned. in the town i live in there are many wealthy men who take their families long distances every summer in order to reach a lake. a twenty acre lake is only a pool in the lake country, but out here it is worth more than a gold mine." "and you think if you could make it a lake again you could sell it to these wealthy people?" "i know i could. i know an athletic club in town that would pay a big price for it. there are many of our wealthy men who would pay five hundred dollars for a hundred foot frontage, so that they might put up bungalows for summer residences. my plan is to find those choked springs, bring them again into their old channels, and convert the hollow into a lake. mr. ryder, our farmer friend who now owns this farm, doesn't think much of my plan, and won't have anything to do with it any more than to sell me options on the land and the privilege of cutting this excellent stand of corn, and that is as far as my arrangements with him extend." "and what is the first thing for me to do?" asked glen. "excellent talk, that, my boy. what would you advise as to the first thing." "i suppose you can't do much exploring while the corn stands. it should be cut." "it should, and it must be cut in the old fashioned way. did you ever cut corn in the old fashioned way?" "you mean with a corn-knife. i helped cut a hundred acres at the school last fall." "well, there's only about five acres of this land in corn so the contract is smaller. the first thing is to borrow a corn-knife of our friend ryder." glen's attack upon the field of corn began that very day. a year ago, at the reform school, he had hated this work; now, he enjoyed it. the corn was higher than his head, and the heavy stalks, piled on his left arm as he cut with his right, wore through his shirt and made an attempt upon his skin, but he did not complain. he was doing a work into which his heart entered, and so he was enjoying it. spencer could give no help at all. there are people, with like misfortune to his, who are able to make some sort of a shift with crutches, but will could not use them at all. as mrs. spencer had explained to glen, there had been some trouble in the amputation. all that was needed was money to go to a famous hospital and have things properly arranged and a pair of artificial legs fitted that would enable him to walk, run, race, dance or play the pipe organ. will hoped to be successful enough to command the money for this and meantime he intended to be happy in the prospect. so he sat and watched glen work, made suggestions, cracked jokes and drew diagrams of the surrounding country. the day that glen finished his work was very hot. he had been working hard in the hope of completing the job by nightfall and was wet and grimy with perspiration and dirt. as he carried an armful of stalks to the shock he noticed a boy standing there dressed in a khaki uniform of olive drab. "wouldn't you like a little help?" asked the boy. "i could use some," said glen. "but i have only one knife." "you rest, then, and let me use it awhile. i know how to cut corn." "you'll spoil your pretty suit." "this kind doesn't spoil. it's a scout uniform." "perhaps it won't spoil for as long as you'll work," said glen. "what are you doing here?" "we have a camp around the other side of the mound. we only came yesterday or you would have seen some of us before now." he was cutting cornstalks with a practised hand and glen decided that he could trust him. "you can go ahead for awhile. i'll go over and see what my partner says," he agreed. "there's a boy scout over there," he told spencer. "he wanted to help cut a piece, so i let him. do you mind?" "not a bit. i'd like to get a whole troop of boy scouts to help. they ought to be some good at our game." "there is a troop of them camped the other side of the mound, this boy says. maybe we could get them to help." spencer straightened himself in his seat. "bright idea, glen. to-night you shall push jolly bill and the old billy-cart over there, and we'll give them a chance to do a good turn." glen went back to where the scout was working. "that's enough," he said. "you've given me quite a rest. we're coming over to see you to-night." "i hope you will," the scout replied. "my father is the scout master and i know he'll be glad to have you come. his name is newton." "i suppose you get along with the same name?" suggested glen. "i surely do. and my other name is corliss, but the fellows call me apple." "why's that. is it your round face and red cheeks?" "no. i couldn't help looking that way and the boys wouldn't throw it up to me. no, sir; they started to call me core, then apple-core, and so down to apple." "it's a good name for you," said glen. "did i tell you i'd be bringing my partner over this evening, too?" "he's welcome. it's in our articles, you know. 'a scout is friendly.'" "well, don't forget to ask him to tell some stories. then you'll be glad we came." "we'll be glad, anyway," said apple, politely, as he turned away. when glen learned to know him better he found this sunny cheer and gentle courtesy to be characteristic of him at all times and places. it was no easy job to propel the old "billy-cart" over the fields, but glen managed it. the scouts were just getting together for their evening camp-fire. they were all attracted by the queer vehicle and its jolly occupant and cheerfully and noisily responded to the introductions given by apple newton. mr. newton, the scout master, was just such a gentleman as one might expect apple to have for a father and cordially welcomed both spencer and glen to their fellowship. a hint from apple newton that mr. spencer was a teller of stories drew forth a wild clamor from the boys for his services. his first story, a funny one, brought forth delirious applause--a "side-splitter" they voted it. then he told them a story of adventure which held them spell-bound. they clamored yet for more. "only one," stipulated the scout master. "it will soon be time to turn in." "then i will tell you a short story about this country, but i cannot vouch for its truth. first i must tell you that i grew up a mile or two from here. there are still some pottawatomie indians here occasionally, i saw one yesterday. when i was a small boy there was quite a colony--a number who never had gone onto the reservation. i knew some of the old men pretty well and one of them used to tell me stories. the most remarkable story he ever told was the story of buffalo lake. years ago the place now known as buffalo hollow was a twenty acre lake. lakes of any size are so rare in this country that even one of twenty acres is sure to be preserved in tradition, so there is plenty of record to verify this part of his story. the remainder may be true. he insisted that it was. "it was late in the evening of a hot day. the freighters had been pushing along their tired horses for the last three hours, with their eyes steadfastly set on a clump of trees ahead--probably this clump in which we sit. when they reached the trees they no longer needed them for shade, for the sun had already set, but they were none the less glad of their leafy branches, glad of the green grass, glad of the cooling waters of the lake. they could scarcely restrain their tired but eager animals from plunging in as they were, and dragging their loads along, and once the harness was released the beasts made a wild dash for the water and reveled in its coolness. the men themselves lost no time in stripping off their clothing and taking the first swim of their trip. they swam and larked and sported until they were not only refreshed and rested but actually tired again. then they ate a plentiful supper, spread their blankets around the treasure wagons and soon slept the sleep of exhaustion. even the watch slept, for he, too, had borne the burden of the day and worn himself with the frolic of the evening. he felt no need of special caution for they were now in territory considered safe. "but the indians had been following them for many days, eager for such an opportunity. they dreaded as well as hated these plainsmen. they had not dared to attack them on the open prairie. but now, one dark form after another slipped noiselessly from tree to tree, and very soon every tree sheltered a savage form and made cover for the marksmanship of an indian brave in feathers and war-paint. "i don't dare to tell you the rest of this story as the old pottawatomie told it to me, for it is near bedtime and these are the very trees between which the ghostly, ghastly figures flitted in the darkness. it is all past and gone now and you need have no fear. you boys on the outer edge who are crowding up to the light of the camp-fire are just as safe as the fellows in the middle. the thing to interest you is what the indians did with the bullion, after they had massacred its guardians. "there is a government record that such a massacre actually occurred and that the bullion has never been recovered. the old indian said that being unable to take the treasure away they rowed it out in the lake and buried it in its waters. they were chased out of the country and it was years before they dared to venture back. then they tried to regain the treasure but without success. as a final measure they dammed up the springs and drained the lake. but the treasure was not there and so far as known it has never been found. what has become of it!" a moment of deep silence followed. "supposing they didn't put it in the lake at all? supposing they hid it in a cave?" it was apple newton who spoke and his speaking was the signal for a perfect babel of suggestions and guesses. spencer held up his hand for silence. "i did not come here to search for this bullion; but i feel sure that it did exist and that it may exist yet. your scout master has invited me to stay with you for a week. i will tell you all that i know about the country, and you will help me as much as possible in getting about. we will hunt for this treasure. i try to be generous, so i will say that the scout finding it may keep it." "i have a word to add," said mr. newton. "in this treasure hunt we must have system. every scout desiring to enter will choose the section which he thinks most favorable, draw a map of it and present it for our approval. afterwards he will give a full report of all his actions, how he has gone to work and what he has noted." and then came a third speaker who had been expected by no one. he stepped from behind a tree, and to the eyes of the boys he was tall and erect and to some of their eyes he wore feathers and war-paint. "boys hunt gold! boys hunt heap stone!" he said and disappeared. chapter vi getting acquainted most of the boys around the camp fire sat as if petrified for a few moments. some of them clutched at their scalp locks, as if to make sure of their continued existence. the first scout to show real signs of recovery was a thin, lanky, freckled-faced hero of unheroic appearance, who spoke in a jerky fashion peculiarly his own. "help!" he cried. "help! mother! why'd my pa let me come to this wild place? injuns! robbers! help!" "oh, shut up, chick-chick," cried a small boy. "you'll have 'em coming back." a contemptuous laugh came from a big, handsome boy who sat in the middle of the circle--big and handsome, yet with a supercilious look. "never mind, kid," he assured the little fellow. "you are safe enough here. chick-chick can't help having hysterics, but you're safe while i'm here." "sure, you're safe," echoed chick-chick. "ev'body's safe. matty will protect you. matty protects whole camp. go after heap big injun, matty. jes' disappeared northwest by south." "that's enough from you, chick-chick," retorted the handsome scout, matt burton, who did not bear chaffing cheerfully. "i could go after that indian if i cared to. and get him, too." "why should anyone want to go after him," interrupted apple newton. "he's done nothing but suddenly appear and give some information that may be valuable." "he just came up from nowhere," said a scout. "i don't believe he's a real indian at all--just a spirit." "he was right close to me," declared chick-chick. "i smelled the spirits." "maybe he is a phantom indian. i've heard of such things," said apple newton, ignoring chick-chick's absurd remark. "i think it would be fine to have a phantom come purposely to get us started on the right track for the treasure hunt. 'hunt heap stone' was what he said. we shall have to look for peculiar formations of stone." "maybe we'll find one that has a letter under it telling where to dig," eagerly suggested one of the younger ones. "likely thing," said another. "how long would a letter stand the weather? there'll be marks cut in the stone if there's anything." "much you fellows know about indian ways," boasted matt burton. "what did those indians know about our language. indians talk by signs and numbers. it will take a smart fellow to tell what it means when you find your heap stone." "don't worry, fellows. when you find it hike back an' ask matty. he'll tell you." matty was saved from delivering his angry response, for just then "taps" sounded. the scout master demanded prompt attention to all camp signals. it was understood that after taps there was to be no noise, no unnecessary conversation. all was to be quiet and orderly. mr. newton would not hear of glen pushing jolly bill back to the farm house. "we have an empty tent with two cots and bedding too--left here by members who were called home. you turn right in with us. we are glad to have you--both of you. i think we'll make glen a scout." this invitation suited both of them splendidly. spencer was pleased, and, as for glen, he had never experienced anything so gratifying in his life. he was so excited that he could not sleep for some time, but lay on his comfortable cot thinking of the many happenings of the last few eventful days, and especially of the exciting story of the camp fire, and the dramatic appearance of the indian. he was glad that he was here to help his good friend, jolly bill, but he felt that it would be much more glorious to help him by finding bars of bright, glistening bullion, than by looking for a lost lake. glen was still dreaming of indians when the bugle call aroused him, and he awakened to the glorious activities of a summer morning in a scout camp. two scouts were in the tent almost before he had hopped out of his blankets and into his clothes. "we came to help our friend, mr. spencer," explained apple newton. "want to wind up his machine an' put on some funny story records," added chick-chick. "i can't tell funny stories before breakfast," objected jolly bill. "i'm hungry enough to eat indian." "we have eggs for breakfast--fresh laid. we got 'em from the farmer yesterday." "you're sure they're fresh?" asked spencer. "i'm very particular about my eggs since i camped out a few years ago. one of our fellows wasn't much good about cooking, but he said he'd get the eggs. he came back pretty soon with a whole dozen. 'you're sure these are fresh?' i asked him. 'dead positive' said he. so i started to break one into my pan, and about all there was that was still egg was the shell. 'what made you so positive these eggs were fresh?' i asked that chap after i let him come to a little. 'i could have sworn to it,' he said. 'i lifted the hen right off the nest myself and the eggs were warm yet.'" "our eggs aren't laid by the dozen," said apple, "and we know they're fresh because the farmer said so. come on now, if you're ready. the scout master says we're to push your automobile right up to the end of the table, next to him." it was a jolly crowd at the table, and no less jolly was the squad acting that morning as waiters. the scout master believed it good discipline to teach every scout how to do the humblest duty as well as how to do the greatest, so each scout took his turn at waiting on table. patrol leader matt burton was in charge of the waiter squad this morning. he was the one exception who showed that it did not agree well with every scout to do these menial tasks. he considered them beneath his dignity and never would have condescended to them had there been a way of escape. since there was not, he had made the best of a bad job, and as he was very bright and a natural leader he had managed to reach the rank of patrol leader in spite of his disinclination to certain matters of work. "bob said he had a special order for mr. spencer, matt," said apple, stepping to his side after he had wheeled the cart up to the table. "tell him mr. spencer wants his eggs sure fresh and likes 'em soft." "you can just carry mr. spencer's order to black bob yourself," said matt disgustedly. "i'm no waiter." "you won't be if the scout master hears you," said apple, his good nature exhausted. "you'll be a traveler." "he surely will," observed chick-chick. "i'll take care of mr. spencer, apple. leave him to me." "it's more in your line," insinuated matt. "i guess it's about the same thing as waiting on your father's customers at his garage." "an' it's proud i am to do it," retorted chick-chick. "i do it whenever they want anything i can handle, from gasoline to a new machine. lem'me sell you a new car, matty. lem'me sell you one that'll make your blue blood bubble all over itself. tell ye 'bout it jest as soon as i get those eggs." "we've just bought a new car," said matt. "and i'd walk before i'd let my folks buy one of you, anyway." "i don't believe that fellow likes you," observed glen, as he went up to the cook shack with chick-chick. "he surely don't disgrace himself by too much show of affection," agreed chick-chick. "you musn't think it's because it's me, though. there's on'y one person matty really loves. he's real smart, matty is. you noticed he spoke so the men couldn't hear him." black bob had mr. spencer's eggs all ready. "these is for the ge'mman as told the stories last night," he announced. "he sure is quality, if they ain't much to him." "give 'em to me, bob," said chick-chick. "i'm going to wait on mr. spencer." "you go away, you henry chicken," objected black bob. "i know all 'bout yore tricks. bear patrol is waitin' table dis yere mohnin' an' you ain't no bear patrol." "well, here's goosey," exclaimed chick-chick, grabbing the shoulder of a small scout who had just appeared. "goosey is in bear patrol, and he's a friend of mine, ain't you, goosey?" "i surely am," declared the small scout. "anything i can do for chick-chick i do." "hustle these eggs down to mr. spencer, goosey, an' make it your business to wait on him. bob won't give me a thing." "not when you ain't on duty. oh, i know you, mr. henry-chick," bob affirmed. "bob doesn't seem to trust you," said glen. "aren't you friendly?" "just best friends ever. bob hasn't better friend 'n me in camp. i like bob 'n i love his cakes an' pies. 'tain't my fault if he doesn't always seem to reciprocate, is it, bob?" "what dat 'bout recipe fo cake? nev' you min', mister henry-chick. i knows you, i do." bob shook a fist as he spoke, but the chuckle in his voice and the laugh in his eye were more apparent than the threat in his fist. "well, let's go back an' get ours while they're hot," said chick-chick. "goosey'll wait on mr. spencer. good boy, goosey. goin' do something good for goosey some day." he led glen back to the long table of smooth boards laid on trestles which stood on the grassy level. the scouts were helping themselves from great bowls filled with eggs cooked in the shell, or from large platters on which eggs fried or poached were served, according to their preference. bob was a good cook and gave them their choice. glen, with an appetite that cared little for the fine points of preference, chose impartially from every dish that reached him. an occasional glance showed that the small scout known as goosey was giving good attention to jolly bill, and not only he but apple newton and other scouts were endeavoring eagerly to anticipate his wants. glen was mentally putting the fellows in their proper places on the shelves of his esteem. apple newton and the boy called chick-chick he warmed to most particularly, and they were given prominent places. he liked young goosey, as well as several other of the younger boys whose names he had not learned. there was a big fellow called tom scoresby that he believed that he would get along with pretty well. just one scout he found no room for anywhere. that was matt burton. he hated him, he was quite sure. his unruly young heart only had one desire for matt. he wanted just one good chance to measure strength with him and plant his hard, clenched fist right where that smile of insolence curled the handsome lips. quite engrossed in his thoughts glen did not notice that the boys around him had risen from the long bench on which they sat. suddenly he heard matt burton's voice behind him. "get up," he said. "can't you see that we want these places for the waiters." glen slowly and deliberately turned around in his seat and looked at his questioner. "who are you?" he asked, and his voice was so aggressive that every scout in hearing distance turned to see what was up. "you'll find out who i am," replied matt angrily. "get up when i tell you." "i don't have to get up when you tell me, nor lie down when you tell me, nor do anything when you tell me. did you get that? what now?" matt was getting very angry but he did not entirely forget his position. "if i call my patrol you'll get up mighty quick," he said. "i'd like to know who let you come here, anyway." "never mind about your patrol and don't fuss about who let me come here. you come and make me get up, all by yourself." matt looked at the brown skin and the strong tough features of the obstinate boy a long minute, as if making up his mind. "oh, well," he said, "i suppose if you're a guest you must do as you please." "since you're so nice about it," said glen, "the seat's yours. do what you want with it." glen knew in his heart that there would be a clash with matt burton if he stayed long in that camp. he felt also that he had not come out of this first brush with entire distinction. matt had been in the wrong and had shown that he was angry, yet he had a certain discipline which had enabled him to control his temper, and the issue had ended in defeat for the undisciplined waif who might well have been victorious had they come to blows. chapter vii glen is initiated strange to say, with the passing of the morning, glen found himself unhappy, though he should have been abundantly content. strange, for with all these boys to help, his tasks would be greatly lightened, and to join in the fun of this crowd should be joy beyond compare. but glen did not want fun just now. there was something much more precious to him, which he felt in danger of losing, and although he himself could not have explained its substance, it was none the less real. it was the trust and dependence of will spencer. for the first time in his life glen had been really trusted and really needed by some one. he had taken up the burden like a man and rejoiced in it. now he felt that his opportunities would be dissipated among the crowd. "what's the matter, glen?" asked spencer. "why are you moping around with a face like the reverse side of a frying-pan? you ought to be right out with the bunch, egging 'em on." "oh, i guess no one has any use for me," said glen disconsolately. "i guess i might as well go back to the school." "to the school! and leave me in the lurch?" "you don't need me any more. you don't tell me anything." "what haven't i told you, boy?" "well, you were telling apple all about that indian who came last night, but you didn't tell me." "oh, nonsense, boy. you are peeved too easily. that indian was just old joe marrowfat, who had followed me up from the farm. apple is romantic and he wanted a string of stuff about the noble red man's noble antecedents. i need you, all the time, to be the mainspring of this business." "tell me what i can do and i'm only too glad to get at it." "well, for one thing you must mix with the boys. be jolly with 'em. 'laugh and the world laughs with you.' that's my motto. that's the way i get along. someone must be around with these boys to keep 'em going, or their hunt won't last long. get them interested in finding the location of the springs. to-day they are all looking for big stones because of what joe said. there's enough big stones around here to keep them busy. tell them the fellow who finds the treasure may get some gold but the boy who finds a spring gets twenty dollars sure. get them to survey the hollow and search for marks to show where the old stream used to run in. you ought to be up on your toes every minute. i'm sorry you aren't a scout." "perhaps i could be," suggested glen. "why not? get apple to teach you the knots and the scout law, and i'll teach you the rest. i'll speak to the scout master and see if they won't initiate you to-night." the remainder of the day glen was too busy to mope. when the camp fire came he was at hand as a candidate for tenderfoot initiation which the scout master had agreed to give. mr. newton had ideas of his own about initiation ceremonies. he believed in making them interesting and impressive to candidate and scouts alike, and he devised a new ceremony of initiation for special occasions. this occasion was unusual, for since none but scouts came to camp, initiations were not needed. it was also unusual in being conducted in the open, which was necessary because the camp had no assembly tent. mr. newton was glad of the diversion, for the day had been very sultry, a storm threatened, and many of the scouts were afflicted with that uneasy, depressed feeling which seems to be absorbed from the atmosphere at such times. "all scouts on tent duty," he announced after supper. "rain threatens. see that trenches are clear. slacken tent ropes a little, especially where they are new. see that nothing in the tents touches the walls. have your beds all ready to turn in. you will then all assemble at the camp-fire for initiation ceremonies." the camp had lanterns and one or two oil torches but mr. newton preferred to go back to nature for his light at this ceremony. the night was cool as the storm drew near, and the camp-fire was allowed to flare up in a crackling blaze which spread its light over the wide open circle and threw mysterious shadows among the big trees beyond. mr. newton took his stand with his back to a massive elm at the edge of the circle. "the candidate may present himself," he announced; and glen marched out and stood before him, with much more of a feeling of solemnity than he had felt on occasions when he had stood before persons of far greater authority. "who desires to bear the lights which shall lighten the way of this candidate as he enters the mysteries of scoutcraft?" called the scout master. "we desire to bear the lights," came simultaneously from two of the tallest scouts. they stepped to the fire, selected each a blazing torch and ranged themselves under the tree. "who is sponsor for this candidate?" was the next question. "i, first class scout corliss newton, am his sponsor," proclaimed apple, stepping forward, his pleasant eyes alight with earnest gravity. "it is well. the sponsor may take his stand to the candidate's left. who desires to bear the scout law to this applicant." twelve scouts arose as one--the older scouts they were--those not likely to be confused by bashfulness or to spoil the ceremony by their own self-consciousness. "let the bearer administer article i. a scout is trustworthy!" forth strode a scout bigger than glen. laying his hand on glen's lips, he said: "no lies proceed from trustworthy lips, no deceit from trustworthy tongue, he lives by the breath of honor and his lips are sealed to all but words of truth." "the bearer of article . a scout is loyal!" this scout bore aloft the flag of the camp, which had been requisitioned for the purpose. he placed the staff in glen's hands as he said: "loyal to the flag and to all it represents. loyal to all scouts and all officials. loyal to home, to parents and authorities, and loyal to almighty god." the wind was swirling through the branches of the trees now and the few stars which had shone were blotted out by the clouds, but the initiation proceeded. "the bearer of article . a scout is helpful!" this bearer, coming forward, took glen's hands and raised them up as he recited: "these hands and the body they represent are pledged to lift up righteousness and tear down iniquity. they will do at least one good turn to somebody every day." "the bearer of article . a scout is friendly!" glen was glad to see chick-chick coming forward with a cheerful grin on his face. he stood between glen and apple and around the shoulders of each he placed an arm, while he and apple shouted aloud: "all friends! all brothers!" and immediately every scout rose to his feet and together they echoed: "brothers all!" but the first rain drops were spatting among the leaves and scout master newton raised his hand. "we must abbreviate our ceremony," he announced. "the remaining bearers will repeat their sections of the scout law after me as i read. the twelve will then form an inner circle around us, and all other scouts will make strong our defenses with an outer circle as we give this candidate the scout oath." in their order the remaining eight advanced with their salutations: a scout is courteous. a scout is kind. a scout is obedient. a scout is cheerful. a scout is thrifty. a scout is brave. a scout is clean. a scout is reverent. they formed the inner circle and around them all the scouts arose and joined hands to form the outer guard. the lightning became more vivid in its flashes and the mutterings of thunder changed to rumbling and roaring as they stood there. the big drops of rain began to thicken but they paid no heed. "the candidate will hold up his right hand, palm to the front, thumb resting on the nail of the little finger, and the other three fingers upright and together, which constitutes the scout sign." glen stood at attention with his hand raised as directed. "the candidate will now repeat after me the scout oath." "'on my honor i will do my best: "'to do my duty to god and my country and to obey the scout law; "'to help other people at all times; "'to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight.' "scout you are now admitted into our ranks as a tenderfoot, which is our first step and one from which you may go on to acquire merit and honor. we are brothers all. the skies may be heavy above us, the storms may threaten, the thunder roar and the lightning flash but we extend to you the cheer of scout fellowship and the welcome of scout comradeship. and as you meet the inevitable storms of life we believe that your remembrance of this law and oath will help you to weather them all triumphantly." the rain was beginning to fall in earnest now. "dismiss troop!" called the scout master; and the boys, a second before in impressive order, made a wild scramble for their tents. glen ran to the assistance of will spencer, who had been an interested spectator of the ceremony, seated in his "billy-cart" at the edge of the circle, but mr. newton waved him to his tent. "i will look after this man," he declared. "he is my guest and i am rain proof." glen turned into his blankets that night a boy scout of america. he awoke to a sunny morning and discovered that he was still glen mason. almost the first thing, he was in trouble with his patrol leader, matt burton. it is only fair to glen to say that burton's treatment was of a character sure to antagonize a boy of glen's nature. from the first there had been a feeling of ill-will between them, a feeling that had been manifest in looks and silent expressions as well as in one sharp interchange of words. now, to glen's disgust, he found himself assigned to burton's patrol, and the very first work for which he was detailed was that of camp cleaning. glen went at his detail with poor spirit; picking up old papers, fragments, trash of every kind, a hateful work to him. perhaps he would have made open rebellion but for apple newton, who though not in the same patrol was helping in the work. "get busy at it, glen," apple counseled. "it isn't a ten minute job if you hustle. beats washing dishes all to pieces. every scout has to take his turn. get busy." but, filled with the thought that burton had put him to this work to humiliate him, glen did not carry through his task to great advantage. he was glad that the morning swim came immediately after, and glad to be able to make a cleaner dive and a longer swim than burton, who was himself among the best. therein lay the trouble, glen was a born leader, and although his opportunities for leading had been few he was quick to assert himself. burton was also a leader and one who had been given ample opportunity. neither boy had yet learned that the first element in leadership is the ability to serve; neither had learned that the greatest leader is the one who counts no service too mean for his personal attention. when the treasure hunt began there were no further restrictions for the morning, and glen's spirit was rejoiced at apple's invitation that he bear him company. the sunny-faced, open-hearted boy won the love of everyone, but in glen mason he had stirred a real worship. "we'll have to call you something, glen," he said. "your name's all right, but the boys are sure to name you over so we may as well do it now. let's ask chick-chick. he's good at names." "what's his real name?" asked glen. "his real name is henry henry. his father liked henry so well for a surname that he had him christened henry, too. we began by calling him hen hen, but that didn't go very well so we call him chick-chick." "i don't mind s'long as y' don't call me biddy chick," explained chick-chick, who had just come up. "now what kind o' mason are you--stonemason, brickmason or mason fruit jar." "brick's the best," declared apple. "matches his hair, too. let's call him brick." "right it is. brick for mason. where ye goin' to find treasure?" "you can come along, chick. we're going to look for signs of water-courses running into the hollow." "i won't come, then. i'm going with goosey to look for a heap rock. we're after gold, we are." all the morning the two boys explored the hollow. many times they traced deceptive depressions in the earth's surface which gave some intimation of having served at some time as a waterway, but never was there any reward for their efforts. at noon, hot and dusty, they made their way back to the camp. a great group of excited boys stood there gesticulating and shouting, and in the center of the group stood matt burton. "what's the excitement?" asked apple of the first boy they reached. "excitement isn't the word," he replied. "matt burton has found the treasure!" chapter viii matt burton's treasure find when they heard the remarkable news that matt burton had discovered the treasure the curiosity of the two boys was beyond measure. they were pushing their way eagerly toward the group to get the full news when a running noose dropped from the overhanging limb of a great tree and neatly entwined them. their progress was checked. "that's chick-chick," said apple, without looking up. "he's always playing some kind of a trick. let go your hold of that rope, chick-chick." the joker dropped down from the branch almost on top of them. "i was just fixing a swing when ye came 'long," he explained, in his jerky fashion. "too good a chance to miss, it was, and worked fine, it did. don't be in a hurry." "you loosen this rope and let us go. we want to get the news." "'tain't s' important as you think. gives the great an' only matty a chance t' spread himself. come on to dinner; you'll hear all 'bout it." dinner was indeed ready and the boys were filling up the long table, for mr. newton had decreed that no action should be taken on matt's discovery until after dinner. when all was cleared away and the boys were ready to dismiss he made the announcement: "burton will now tell us of his discovery; the site he selected, how he has worked and what he has found." "rah for the great and only," yelled chick-chick, and, the designated title being popularly known and approved, the "rah" was given before matt began to speak. there was no embarrassment about matt burton as he rose to speak. he was about fifteen years old, tall, straight and handsome. a mass of dark brown hair with well-set eyes of the same shade and regular features gave vigor to his head and face. he was of good family and had been reared in a home of refinement and taught to feel at ease under all circumstances. he accepted his nickname of "the great and only matty" with some complacency, as being not inappropriate, especially since his pitching was the star feature of their baseball playing. a wise father had sent him to the scouts to "get acquainted with himself" but so far the process had not reached perfection. he began to talk with a smile of confidence. "i know a lot about buried treasure from what i've read and heard tell of," said he, "so i decided to work out my own plans. chick-chick and goosey offered to come with me, but i had ideas of my own. i knew a few things about how to look. i knew it was no good to look on top of the ground--might as well look up in trees. then i knew there's always a false scent thrown out to put searchers off the track. i figured that the false scent was probably the story of the lake. so instead of choosing any place in the hollow i looked around until i found a heap of rock near the timber. and then i chose one hundred feet from the timber line southeast of the hollow. i knew that the heap of rock wouldn't be the only sign--there's always a second sign given in a treasure hunt. usually, in all the books i've read, the second sign is a tree or some tall object which casts a shadow at a certain hour of the day at just the point where you ought to dig." "what hour?" shouted a boy. "i'm coming to that. i looked around for the rock heap and decided to pace off a hundred feet. i got no results worth while until i tried it due south. this time it brought me to an old stump of a very peculiar appearance that might have been there a hundred years. it was about ten feet high, and of course the length of its shadow was different at different times of the day. the only guide i had was in the heap of rock. there were four rocks in it. as there is no sun at four o'clock in the morning it was a sure thing that i must choose four in the afternoon. so i waited until four o'clock and at the exact spot where the peculiar knobby head of that stump threw its shadow i commenced to dig." the boys were listening in strained silence. one of the younger ones squeaked "rah for matty!" but drew no response. "i dug until supper time," continued matt. "it was hard work, but i made a pretty good hole though i found nothing. nobody had been around to bother me. i just stuck up a couple of sticks at supper time and came in. this morning i was late getting to work. digging alone so hard yesterday had taken off some of my appetite, and i didn't dream of what i was going to find so i didn't hurry much. but i found the ground turned up easier and i had hardly dug twenty minutes before my spade struck something that gave out a metallic ring. i scraped away the dirt until i could see a metal object like the lid of a box about fourteen by eighteen inches. the ground all around it was hard and i could not get it loose. i tried to get my fingers under it but couldn't do it. the dinner call was sounded. i wouldn't have come only i was obliged to have some help anyway, and i thought i'd better tell the scout master all about it and have him see fair play." "which the scout master will proceed to do," added mr. newton. "we will follow matt to the scene of his explorations which we hope will turn out to be the treasure, although one box fourteen by eighteen inches would not hold a great deal of bullion. still there may be other boxes. who were the boys who wanted to work with you, matt?" "chick-chick and goosey," replied matt. "very well. you two boys may take a pick and a spade and help matt get his box out." the boys did not respond willingly. "we don't want to," said chick-chick. "he didn't want us yesterday and he won't want us to-day. let brick mason and apple do it." "i don't like that spirit, henry, but we'll excuse you. corliss and glen will do the work." "you don't seem very much excited over this find," said glen to spencer, as he pushed him along in his billy-cart. "i'd be more excited if they found a gushing spring, my boy. i don't excite easily over buried gold." "well, we'll soon see. if i get hold of that pick i'll soon have that box loose." matt burton did not really relish glen's aid, but he could offer no valid objection. a few rapid and accurate strokes with the pick loosened the hard earth, and apple and matt quickly spaded it out. as soon as a grip could be obtained matt seized the box. it certainly was heavy, especially since he could not yet get a good grip on it. apple lifted one side and slowly but with great excitement they brought the mysterious box from its hiding place. a look of disgust swept the features of matt burton as he looked at his treasure and read the white letters on the side of the box. from the edge of the pit came a roar of laughter from black bob, the cook, who had been eagerly watching the proceedings. "ah ben missin' that yere bread box since yis'day two days gone," he shouted. "dat ah is mah treasure. bring her up yere!" glen, on his knees, had thrown open the lid of the box. as he saw its contents to be damp earth, tightly tamped, his roar of laughter equaled that of black bob. "wow!" he shouted. "look at this. the treasure's name is mud!" matt's look of disgust had changed to fiery anger. "you're the one who put this trick up on me," he shouted. "you've been rubbing me wrong ever since we let you in here from nowhere. now i'm going to pay you up!" he made a wild lunge forward at glen, and in a second the two were locked in a rough and tumble conflict in the narrow confines of the pit. but the scout master reached down from above and seized each by the collar, and apple valiantly pushed himself in between their belligerent forms. "enough of that, boys," said mr. newton. "climb out of that hole. glen, what have you to say to this charge." but glen was spared from making an answer, for henry henry stood forth and spoke. "he didn't do it, mr. newton. it was me," confessed chick-chick, more convincing than grammatical. "goosey was in it with me. when matt turned us down yesterday we thought we'd give him something to dig for. never dreamed he'd make big blow 'bout it. just s'posed be little joke all t' himself. we came last night, dug down to hard pan; cut hole s' near exact size o' bread box as we could, made it heavy with dirt and turned it in upside down. just joke, mr. newton." and as "just a joke" it did not seem so very reprehensible, for a good joke that does no harm is not out of place in a scout camp. mr. newton had a private conversation with henry henry about his joke, but chick-chick never told the boys what he said. the scout master also had a private conversation with matt burton and this also was kept a secret, but though it may have done matt good it did not improve his attitude toward "brick" mason. in most things glen found the succeeding days marked by such happiness as he had never before enjoyed. he was a boy among boys. no one asked about his past. scouts are taught to live in the present. it is not what they have been, but what they are and are aiming to be that carries weight. he found his word accepted as truth and so he made strong efforts to make it true. he did not spend his days in perfect harmony. the old disposition to have everything his own way still existed and many an angry word flared up and many times he was near the fighting line, but this had been so much a part of his every day living for so many years that it troubled him but little. even with matt burton he had not come to blows, though matt continued to assign to him disagreeable tasks, so markedly indeed, that mr. newton announced that he would make all assignments himself, henceforth. the treasure hunt proceeded with more or less zest but neither real nor fancied treasure was discovered. nevertheless it supplied a new interest each day, and glen enthusiastically did his share in keeping the interest alive. every part of every day was in vivid contrast to the dull monotonous life he had been living. and yet he was not satisfied, there remained an eager longing for something, he knew not what; a great unsatisfied craving. glen was always a sound sleeper. he dreamed of the camp one night. the tussle with matt burton had really come, at last. he seemed to do very well at first but matt had seized a pickax (the very one used in unearthing the bread box) and was beating him about the head with it. fortunately he awoke before he was badly damaged. spencer was reaching over from his cot and tapping his face with his cane. "get up, brick! get up! brick is a good name for you, my hard-baked friend. get up! this tent will be in the next county in five minutes. get up! you would sleep on, and come to no harm if we were carried twenty miles, but being slightly crippled, i'd be sure to struggle and get hurt. get up!" the wind was blowing furiously and the tent almost capsized. glen was out of bed in a flash, wide awake. he knew where to get a heavy hammer and made short work of driving home the stakes and securing the flapping canvas. "not very clever of you to plant your tent stakes so the first strong wind would blow them out of the ground," said spencer. "the wind didn't blow them out, and the strain of the ropes didn't pull them out. i fixed those stakes just before i went to bed. who do you suppose yanked them up?" "i never was good at riddles," replied spencer. "maybe it was mr. newton." "yes," said glen, "or apple! just like 'em. try another guess." "no, i'm afraid i would say something that might excite you. go to sleep. every one has troubles, but it's no good weeping about 'em. 'laugh and the world laughs with you.'" "i haven't any troubles and i can afford to laugh," said glen. "the day's beginning to break but i think i'll take a sunday morning snooze." and over in the county into which will spencer had predicted they would be blown a man was just awaking from his snooze. he had slept all night in an automobile, as he frequently did. the automobile was no ordinary car. it had a driver's seat in front and a closed car behind. bright colored letters announced to the world that j. jervice supplied the public with a full line of novelties, including rugs, curtains, rare laces and jervice's live stock condition powders. mr. j. jervice yawned and stretched, and rubbed his eyes. "i think i'll get on to buffalo center to-day," he soliloquized. "the boss didn't say to come until to-morrow an' the rest o' the gang won't be there until night, anyway. that'll give me a chance to do a nice little business at that boy scout camp i hear they've got there. it's sunday but i reckon i can sell a few things. ought to get rid of some flags and knives and a little tinware." it was nice that glen could feel that he had no troubles, but perhaps he did not know of the intentions of mr. jervice. chapter ix glen enlists sunday morning in camp. the fierce wind of the night had been succeeded by a restful quiet; the sun shone bright in an atmosphere cooled and freshened by the storm. glen mason both felt and saw a difference throughout all the camp on this quiet morning; no one expected noise or bustle; no one projected expeditions or sports; the peaceful rest of a holy day marked the camp in its earliest hours. black bob had cooked his eggs and bacon according to a special formula which he announced as "extra for sunday," and thereby did he make his contribution to the hallowing of the day. after breakfast was the regular time for announcement of the "order of the day" by the scoutmaster, and for any special remarks, any complaints, any petitions or suggestions. "we are going to have a good day to-day, boys," said mr. newton. "we have had a mighty fine week with our swimming and fishing and hikes, and some of us, too, have found some 'treasure,' if not exactly what we were searching for. this morning, after camp duties, every boy will find a quiet spot apart from any disturbance and write a letter home. tell the folks how you feel, what you eat, what you do, how you sleep. tell them about the treasure hunt, tell them about last night's storm. i hope the boy who got something special out of our 'near cyclone' last night will tell his mother about it." "who was it?" came a chorus of voices. "don't bother about that," replied mr. newton. "perhaps there was more than one." "i'm not 'shamed of it," piped up chick-chick. "i'm it. got mr. newton out o' bed, i did, i was s' scared. always have been scared 'bout wind--born that way. but mr. newton says, 'd'ye know who walketh upon the wings of the wind?' an' i said, 'death'; an' he said, 'god! it's in the hundred an' fourth psalm.' s' then he said, 'you c'n stay in my tent till the blow is over,' an' i said, 'no. i'll go back to me tent like christian. with god on the wings i'm safe.' an' as i went back saw brick mason outside his tent swingin' hammer, an' i says, 'ain't ye scared, brick?' an' he says, 'no. i ain't scared. i'm mad.' an' that's all is to it, 'cept'n 'bout the feller i saw when i first went out." "now that's fine, boys," said mr. newton. "there's a double victory in that. don't slight your letters. make them long and newsy. remember there will be sunday school around the long table at ten o'clock. this afternoon a man is coming from town who has been all around the world and has seen the battles of great nations as a war correspondent. he will speak at three o'clock. by special request we will hold our camp-fire to-night at the summit of buffalo mound. every scout will carry an armful of firewood and his blankets, as a part of the plan is to spend the night in a bivouac on mother earth. now to your letters." glen sat looking out of his tent, just out of the glare of the sun. writing letters home was no novelty to him. at the school you were supposed to do it at least once a month, and for a good letter you got ten merits, but no boy ever wrote what he thought because your letters were all read by the house officer. if he should write a letter home to-day some reform school officer would be inquiring at the camp for him day after to-morrow. but he would write some kind of a letter--it would look queer if he did not, with all the other boys writing. he would write just exactly what he thought, too, for once, and the mere fact that the letter was never to be mailed need make no difference. for once (he wrote) i am being treated about right. there is just one chap here doesn't treat me right and his time's coming. but i don't hate him as bad as it seems like i would, and i don't want to get in bad with the scoutmaster so i don't know as i'll do much. the scoutmaster's a christian and i've got more use for christians than i ever had before. mr. newton sure treats me fine. apple's a christian, he says i ought to be, too, and he's surely a peach. mr. gates is a christian and nobody ever treated me better. the old supe is a christian and i guess he would have treated me right if i'd let him. jolly bill treats me fine, too, and i don't know why he isn't one but it makes you feel as if him being such a good fellow certainly ought to be. he says laugh and the world laughs with you but it wouldn't have done much good to tell chick-chick that last night and it wouldn't have made him brave enough to go back to his tent and fight it out. chick-chick talked right up this morning. he's never said anything about being one before but he's always acted like one--kind of on the square. that's the kind i'm going to be; i mean i would be if ever i got to be one, but i suppose i'd have to go back to the school and i don't know about that. but i'd like to feel like apple and him, so sure-like and so safe. i think you'd better try to get me a job and maybe i can work under another name. everybody has to work and i'm going to hold up my end. i wouldn't like to be like that j. jervice man with his tricks--the man that tried to sell me. i'd tell you all about him but it would take a long time and this letter ain't ever going to be sent, anyway. i'm going to do better than send a letter. just as soon as it's safe i'm coming to see you and i'm going to fix it so i can earn a living for you and you won't have to work any more. so that's all for this time anyway. his letter had not been written as easily as it reads, and all the other boys had finished and were making a clamor for envelopes and stamps, a disturbance in which glen did not join since his letter was never to be mailed. he would have tried to escape the afternoon talk, but will spencer claimed him. "push my old billy-cart right up alongside that speaker," he demanded. "if he's done half they say he has i want to hear him." so glen was not only present but in a prominent place where he was bound to hear all that the speaker had to say. and a very interesting narrative it was, though we have no space in this story for anything but the few very last words. "and so it came about," said the war correspondent, "that after seeing all sorts of soldiers in all manner of warfare, it fell to my lot to see this one brave man holding up his banner against great hordes of invaders in a crowded inland city of china, and he was single-handed. and i was obliged to admit that he was the bravest soldier i had seen; and since the appeal came to me so directly i volunteered. and thus it happened that one who had been a reporter of scenes of carnage turned to write the message of the cross. and now i am going about enlisting recruits for the army of righteousness and right glad i am that so many of you are in that army, and right glad i shall be to talk with any of you who need help." many of the boys came to say a word to the speaker as they dispersed. glen stood there, next to spencer's cart. he would not have said a word had he been threatened with torture, but he was greatly concerned and both his hand and heart throbbed with the hope that some one would respond to the eloquent plea that had stirred him so deeply. when the boys all had gone the response came from the least expected place. it was from jolly bill who had lain in his cart in thrilled interest. "i've half a mind to do it, glen," he whispered. "oh, you must, bill. it's just the one thing you need," urged glen, as earnestly as though he were himself an exhorter. "how is it?" asked spencer, turning to the speaker. "you would hardly care to enlist half a man, would you?" "no," said the war correspondent. "we don't care to do things by halves, but we're mighty glad to enlist a whole man like you. whatever accident you have suffered hasn't cut you off from being a man after god's own heart. shake hands on that." "i've been finding it pretty empty to 'laugh and the world laughs with you,'" admitted spencer. "it's a hollow laugh a great deal of the time. it doesn't ring true. i want a peace that will help me to have cheer regardless of whether the world laughs with me or at me. i've known it for a long time but this last week especially i've felt the need of the kind of religion mr. newton practices." "it's the same kind that apple has," ventured glen. "it is for you, too," said the war correspondent. "it is for every one who will have it." "you see, though, you don't know me," said glen. "i've been a pretty hard case." "tell us about it," came the invitation. his mouth once opened glen's story came rapidly, and in the glow of confession he held nothing back, but his hearers were neither alienated nor offended. "there's only one thing about a boy like you," said the speaker. "it isn't how bad you have been. you can't have been so bad but jesus has cleared your debt. the one thing is, are you through with it all, are you willing to turn away from yourself and enlist under the banner of the cross?" glen's face worked with emotion such as he had not felt in many years. "i don't know what to do," he said, huskily. "i'm all up in the air. i'd like to be a man like what you told about and like these people that have been good to me lately. i'd do it even if i wouldn't like some of the things i'd have to swallow. but i don't understand what i'd have to do. i've never done anything of the kind." "you're a good deal like the soldier enlisting, son. he doesn't understand anything. all he knows is that he wants to enlist himself. and that's all you need to know. your commander will see to the rest. you won't learn everything in a day. you'll make mistakes; you'll break rules; you'll have to be disciplined. but that is all in the bargain. the only question is will you enlist?" and glen enlisted! the war correspondent was compelled to leave, but before doing so he gave glen much assurance on many subjects. "about your school," he said. "i hesitate to advise you. i know your superintendent and will telephone to him to-morrow. stay with mr. newton until you hear from him." the scoutmaster walked with his guest through the woods to his car. they had scarcely left before the camp had a visitor in the person of mr. j. jervice. the boys crowded around him with great interest, for although obliged to leave his car he had brought with him many diverting trifles, for mr. j. jervice had no objection to sunday trade if conducted on a cash basis. glen was still talking to will spencer. he was too much occupied with his recent great experience to be easily diverted, and did not even see his old friend jervice. but mr. j. jervice having nothing of the kind to occupy his attention was quick both to see and to speak. matt burton was one of those who heard him speak. "the reform school boy!" he cried. "you say he has run away from the reform school?" "he said so himself," asserted mr. j. jervice, "and don't forget that i am the one who gets the reward." "you may take him along with you back to where he came. the cheek of the fellow! come on, scouts, let's run him out. the scoutmaster isn't here but i'm a patrol leader and i know what to do. let's run him out." "who's that you're going to run out?" asked glen, coming up, attracted by the loud talking. "i'm going to run you out, you cheat of a runaway from the reform school. you are a common thief, for all we know. you may be any kind--" alas for glen's discipline. alas for his good resolves. had he been right in thinking that the service of jesus was not for such as he? he flew at matt with the velocity and ferocity of a tiger. his strength was that of a man, for he had worked hard at all kinds of manual labor. two or three quick, stinging blows and his passion came to a terrified end as he saw matt fall to the ground, white and unconscious. chapter x j. jervice and his gang mr. newton, returning to the camp he had left in such quiet peace, found one boy white-faced and sober endeavoring to restore another who lay prostrate on the ground, while some of the excited scouts were earnestly trying to recall their first aid suggestions and others stood in anxious contemplation. a pailful of cold water was being carried to the scene by chick-chick, but the victim of the fight was mercifully spared its revivifying shock, for just as mr. newton came up he opened his eyes and murmured, "where am i?" "all scouts are excused excepting glen and matt," announced mr. newton, taking in the situation the more readily because of his previous knowledge of burton's baiting tendencies. "if there is to be any fighting in this camp it will have to be done under my personal supervision and according to my rules." as the scouts strolled off to the timber matt sat up and looked around him. "he's an escaped reform school boy, mr. newton," he began at once. "and i suppose you told him so?" asked mr. newton. "i know i'm everything that's bad," said glen, bitterly. "i told you it was no good for me to enlist." "do you want to back out?" asked the scoutmaster keenly. "i don't want to but i suppose i'll have to." "it rests with you. your past record has nothing to do with it and would have nothing if it were black as night. do you want to back out?" "no, sir. and i'm sorry i got mad and hit matt." "that speech shows that you have enlisted, boy. matt," said the scoutmaster, turning to the boy who was much bewildered by the conversation as he had been by the blow, "you hear glen's apology. now it's your turn." "but what i said is true," insisted matt. "and glen admits it and has told me all about it. none the less you owe him an apology for throwing it in his face, just as much as he owed you one for putting his fist in your face." "i don't apologize to anybody," said matt, with an ugly frown. "i can go home if you like." "it shall be as glen says," decided mr. newton. "i don't have anything against you, matt," said glen, in as gentle a tone as ever he used in his life. "i started in to be a christian this afternoon, and part of it is being decent like apple and mr. newton." "i've nothing to do with a reform school boy," said matt, and he rose unsteadily to his feet and walked moodily away. "you're bound to have a lot of that, glen," said mr. newton. "it's part of your discipline. and one of the things you will find hardest to learn will be to take your medicine and take it quietly." glen knew that. his new resolves had not changed his old impulses. if any one flung a taunt at him his impulse would be to fling back a blow. his determination would have to be just a little quicker than his impulse. meantime he found lots of pleasure in the companionship of apple and chick-chick and several others. there was a new bond of fellowship between them, a bond which glen would have found it quite impossible to state in words but which was none the less genuine and fixed. this bond was to mean much in the next few days for they were to be days of peril and adventure for glen. glen's adventures grew out of his being discovered at camp by mr. j. jervice. mr. jervice had withdrawn behind some bushes when he saw the conflict beginning between matt and glen. strange to say, any form of conflict was repugnant to the body of j. jervice although the soul of him rejoiced in it. let him be safely out of the way and he exulted in scenes of violence, but most cautiously he avoided any close proximity. he believed in playing safe. when jervice noted the vigor that glen was able to put into his swinging blows and then saw matt stretched out on the ground, he felt very certain that business called him in another direction. no telling upon whom that wild boy might next turn his fury. so he withdrew deeper into the bushes, and as he caught a view of mr. newton hurrying up he decided on still more active measures, and scampered away as fast as his pack and the undergrowth would let him. jervice was decidedly peeved with glen. this escaped reform school boy, who should be just the same to him as ten dollars in the bank, had made for him nothing but trouble. j. j. seldom cherished grudges--it was poor business, being bad for one's judgment. but if ever he held a grudge it was against the person who hurt his pocket-book and as jervice now figured it glen had worsted him at least twenty dollars' worth. the items were: first, ten dollars which he should have secured as a reward; second, five dollars which he had been obliged to pay as license fee; third, five dollars he had expected to make on his sales at camp buffalo. twenty dollars is no slight loss to any one, and although j. jervice did not toil as hard for his money as most people he loved it much better. he made his money in various ways, some of them not nearly so honest as peddling. he had some friends who were engaged in a rather peculiar business. they went to any place where they understood money had been gathered together, and quietly took it away. they generally notified mr. jervice where they would be, and he then came along with his car, loaded the plunder behind a secret partition and carried it away at his leisure. the business of j. jervice in this particular locality, however, was somewhat of a variation from the usual procedure. some friends of mr. jervice's friends had done business in this neighborhood before. they had met with misfortune and now suffered confinement at the hands of certain stern authorities who would not even allow them to go out long enough to settle up the loose ends of their affairs. not having a j. jervice in their service they had cached certain products of their toil in a cave the secret of which had been disclosed to them by a dissolute indian. shut up as they were their only recourse had been to commission the capable man who happened to lead the jervice gang to recover for them the property for which they had risked their liberty. this, therefore, had brought to buffalo center, first of all, a hard, desperate man, who was the leader of the gang, then j. jervice with his autocar, and, shortly to follow, various other whose characters were more widely known than commended. incidentally the leader had found that the little bank at buffalo center had its safe loaded with the sum of ten thousand dollars, which had been placed therein for the convenience of a certain wheat buyer in making some deals. this being rather in the line of work in which he had been most successful the leader had decided to relieve this congestion of cash and had so notified mr. jervice as soon as they met. mr. j. jervice was thinking these things over as he went back to his car. he had stopped running now that he was well clear of the camp. he was walking slowly as one who is studying some great problem. it was not the problem of transportation. this was his especial job and he knew what to do about it. but this boy--this boy who owed him twenty dollars! he began to see how he could get his money's worth. a plan formed in his mind for using him. that night the friends of mr. jervice arrived in the neighborhood and gathered without undue ostentation at his camping-place. they fell into a very solemn conference and they said many things with which we are not greatly concerned. but mr. jervice made some remarks which were more than interesting, and showed that though slight in frame and deficient in courage he was a mighty plotter. "about that window you wanted me to get through," he said. "i can't get through that place." "yes, you can," insisted a big man who seemed to be the leader. "what's more, you're the only runt in the gang, an' you'll have to do it. us big men can't train down to a hundred an' fifty pounds to get through that window." "well, it ain't right for me to do it," objected mr. jervice. "it ain't safe for me to be 'round the place, i tell you. i ain't very strong an' i might break my neck." "you'd never do it more'n once, jervice, so don't let that worry you. you got to do this 'cause nobody else can't git through." "but i've got a better scheme." "spit it out, an' don't waste no time talkin' nonsense, neither." "i've found a boy. he's strong an' active an' fairly big, but he ain't so big he couldn't git through. he'd be just the one for it." "what do we want with boys? how would we be squaring him?" "he's the kind that wouldn't need much squaring. a little piece o' money 'd keep him quiet. he's jest run off f'm the reform school." "you're dead sure about him?" "i know how to make sure," said mr. jervice. "a reform school runaway is just what we want." in which conclusion mr. jervice showed that he was not as clever as supposed. chapter xi glen follows a false trail morning mail was a great institution in camp. two scouts, specially detailed, brought it from the buffalo center post-office, in a u. s. mail pouch. mr. newton opened and distributed it, and happy were the fellows who received letters with which they could retreat to some corner and feast themselves not only once, but sometimes twice and thrice, while pleased smiles circled their countenances. because glen expected none he was all the more surprised when a letter was handed to him. it was a mysterious letter, indeed. the envelope was mysterious, if a dirty and crumpled condition spelled mystery. the writing and spelling were mysterious--most mysterious. finally the contents of the letter enjoined mystery. "say nuffin to noboddy burn this at once," it cautioned. "this is important. your forchoon is maid and you git part of a big tressure if you do exackly as told. don't say a word to noboddy but cum at ten o'clock to the blazed oke wich is just south of your camp if you tell anyboddy or bring anyboddy you wont get to no nuffin about it." glen's first impulse was to show the document to jolly bill. as bill was busy in conversation with mr. newton he had time to think it over. it was something about the treasure, quite evidently. very likely it was a trick. some one was trying to get a laugh on him. very well. glen was not at all displeased. he would let them do their worst. it showed that they had taken him in among them and were treating him exactly as one of themselves. he was gratified. he would go along and see it through. if they could make him bite, all right. there was no difficulty in locating the blazed oak which stood close to the camp. glen had no watch, but he went early enough to be quite sure of being there by ten o'clock. then he waited and waited. he was about to give it up as a hoax, when a man slipped quietly out of the woods and advanced toward him. glen fell into a position of defense as he saw that it was his old enemy, jervice. "now, don't go actin' up," begged mr. jervice. "i ain't goin' to do nothin' only tell you how to git into a good thing. i'm the man as wrote that letter." "you are!" exclaimed glen. "what do _you_ know about the treasure?" "i know all about it," jervice assured him confidentially. "i'm the only feller that can help you git a slice. they's jest one question--are you willin' to go in an' will you keep mum. i don't tell nothin' till you tell me." "am i willing? are you crazy? you bet i'm willing. try me." "well, listen here then. i thought you'd be the feller. who can i get as is good an' strong an' yet not much over boys' size, thinks i. then i thinks of you. 'that reform school boy,' i says to myself. 'he's the very feller. likely he's done this kind of a job before.'" "i've never had anything to do with treasure before, and i don't know what you mean," said glen. "hurry up and tell about it. i want to be back at camp for the swim at eleven o'clock." "come over to my car," invited the artful jervice. "it ain't very far an' we won't be in no danger of being interrupted." "how's that boy you hit?" asked the peddler as they journeyed. "that was a awful crack you give him." "he's all right and able to be about," glen assured him. "i'm sorry i hit him." neither glen nor jervice knew that matt was not only able to be about but was at that moment within ten feet of them, being, in fact, just that distance above their heads in a tree which seemed to him to offer such facilities as wild bees might desire in choosing a home. he kept very quiet in his "honey tree" and looked down on them with contempt for both. "up to some tricks," he muttered to himself. the j. jervice autowagon was not so very far away, but the two were well out of range of matt's vision before they reached it. "now, to begin with," said j. jervice. "are you one o' them scouts or ain't you?" "i am," replied glen. "i'm a tenderfoot." "tenderfoot, eh! reckon you ain't so tender. well, why don't ye wear one o' them uniforms, so's to make ye look like one?" "i haven't any uniform, yet. perhaps i could borrow one. what's that got to do with a treasure hunt?" "it's got a whole lot to do with it. people knows that boys wearing them uniforms is straight, an' we want you to look straight as a string." "i'm going to get one as soon as i can," glen assured him. "i want to look straight--that is part of the oath, 'physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight.'" "i don't know nothink about no oaths like that," objected mr. jervice, in a dubious tone which indicated that he might know more about other varieties. "we don't care about yer being so straight--jest so ye look straight." "well, hurry up and tell about the treasure," urged glen. "remember i want to be back by eleven o'clock. you're awfully slow." "i'm comin' to that. remember this now--you mustn't never tell nobody nothink about it." "what do you mean--never tell anybody?" asked glen. "i guess we know as much about it as you do." "_you_ know about it!" mr. jervice seemed incredulous. "what do you know about it?" "well, we know what mr. spencer told us the other night," insisted glen. "what was that?" asked mr. jervice cautiously. "sit down here an' tell me about it." glen sat down on the back step of the car and told the story of the lost treasure as he remembered it. "so that's the treasure story, is it?" came a deep voice from the side of the car. there stepped into view a man whom glen had not seen before. he was evidently associated with mr. jervice, but he did not in the least resemble him, for instead of being a cringy weakling, he was big and strong and hard. "that's the story as mr. spencer told it to us," replied glen. "say, that's mighty interesting to me," said the man. "happened right around this neighborhood, too? i'll bet them indians put that treasure in a cave an' hain't never done nothing about it since 'cause they couldn't sell bullion without giving themselves away." "i suppose they'd find it hard to sell," said glen. "you bet they'd find it hard to sell. they'd just been obliged to leave it in the cave. bet it's the same cave we're lookin' for. you know any caves around here, boy?" "no, sir," replied glen. "i haven't seen a cave in this country." "you know something about the country?" "a little bit," glen cautiously admitted. "i've only been here a few days." "get that chart, jervice, an' we'll see what he reckernises," ordered the leader. mr. j. jervice offered some protest and the two held a whispered conversation of which glen was evidently the subject. "oh, shut up," exclaimed the big man, at last. "i can take care of the kid all right. you git the chart." mr. jervice thereupon dived into the car and soon returned with a rough map which he opened out before the leader. "lookahere, boy, look at this," commanded the man. "this remind ye of any place around your camp?" glen looked at the chart and saw many things which had become familiar to his eyes in the last few days. there was an elevation that was undoubtedly buffalo mound, certain wavy lines that depicted a stream down its west side could scarcely mean anything but buffalo creek. a big star was quite conspicuous midway along the course of the stream and glen was curiously examining words which he made out to be "deep springs" and "twin elms" when mr. jervice put his thumb over the spot. "never mind 'bout readin' that too close," objected mr. jervice, "what we want to know is did you ever see a place like that?" "i think i have," admitted glen. "don't you know ye have?" insisted the big man in a harsh voice. "ain't that the place where yer camp is?" "it looks something like it," said glen. "it's open country, open to everybody. why don't you go and see?" "there's reasons, boy. some on 'em you wouldn't understand. we don't mind telling you some of the trouble. did ye know that all o' that treasure was claimed by the heirs?" "whose heirs?" asked glen. "heirs of the freighters as the indians took it away from. did you know that a lot o' that bullion had been got out and was held in the bank here at buffalo center?" "mr. spencer said nothing about it," replied glen. "because he don't know nothink 'bout it," said j. jervice. "we know because we represent the heirs. now if you want to help us, your share will be a hundred dollars; but, remember, you say nothink to nobuddy." "i won't say anything," glen promised, rashly. "if you do you'll be in as bad as anybuddy, so yer better not. if yer goin' to help, fust thing is to go back to camp an' git one o' them suits like they call scout suits." "i reckon i can borrow one," said glen. "then ye'll go down to buffalo center an' look out for the bank. walk right in as if ye owned it, jest like a reg'lar boy scout might do." "i can do that," agreed glen. "but what's that got to do with it?" "it's got a plenty. when nobuddy ain't lookin' much you take a good look at a little winder that's clear in the back. you'll see it ain't got no bars over it like the other winders. it's jest 'bout big enough to let a boy through." "well?" asked glen, beginning to feel that it wasn't well at all, and that this plan mr. jervice was unfolding had to do with a very different treasure than he had supposed. "jest imagine you've been dropped through that winder an' landed on the floor. you've got to go f'm there to the front an' unbolt the door. we can handle the lock all right but they got old fashioned bolts inside. so just wait aroun' an' figure how you'd git acrost the room without knockin' nothink over, an' look particular at the fastenings on that front door so you'll--" "stop right there," interrupted glen. "i won't do anything of the kind." "what's the matter of you, backin' out thaterway?" exclaimed mr. jervice. "ain't i explained to you that the bank's got our bullion." "i'm not that green," retorted glen. "you want to rob the bank. i'm through with you." "hold on, boy!" the strong hand of the big leader closed over his shoulder. "not yet you ain't. we can't let you go off thinkin' that way about us." glen wriggled around until he could look into the face of the man who held him. his spirits dropped. it was no weak, trifling face such as j. jervice exhibited. a hard, rough look--a cruel, remorseless look--a mean, ugly look--all these things he read in that face. "mebbe ye'll know me when ye see me agen," said the man. glen made no reply. "i ain't figurin' on you seein' much more o' me, though, nor any of us. d'ye know what i'm goin' to do with you?" "send me back to the reform school?" guessed glen, wishing from the bottom of his heart that he might get off so easily. the man laughed as if at an excellent joke. "you're funny, boy--positive funny, you are. sendin' you to the penitentiary would be easy along o' what i'm goin' to do to you." "i've never hurt you," cried glen. "let me go." "it ain't safe, boy. they's jest one way you c'n make it safe. come in along of us an' do what we do. you wouldn't be a reform school runaway if you hadn't never been up to nothink. this'll be easy for you." it was a temptation that would have tried boys of firmer principle than glen. this man might do something awful to him if he resisted. he was on the point of yielding--and then came the vision of matt burton, white and unconscious, and the recollection of his agony as he thought that he had murdered matt and lost his first chance to walk straight. was it better to choose one evil than another? "do what you want to," he said bravely, to the big man. "i'm going to be a true scout, if you--if you kill me for it." there was murder in the man's appearance, evidently enough, for j. jervice eagerly protested. "you don't want to do no murder, now. murder means hangin'!" "shut up!" commanded the leader. "look what ye got us into. what can we do with him?" "we'll have to hide him till we git away," said jervice. [illustration: "brave man!" sneered the leader. "get me a little rope an' i'll do him up scientific." page ] "no good trying to hide him round here. them scouts will be missin' him when he don't get to his meals an' swarm all over here. you run over to the city--it's only twenty-four miles. you ought to be back easy by night. you know who to leave him with." "he's a desperate hard boy to manage," complained j. jervice with some recollection of previous dealings. "i'm afeared one man can't handle him." the leader laughed significantly. "one _man_ could," he declared. "but that ain't saying the kid wouldn't be too much for you." "tie him up," urged mr. jervice. "i can handle him when he's tied." "brave man!" sneered the leader. "get me a little rope an' i'll do him up scientific." he was as good as his word. when his scientific job was finished the only thing glen could do without restraint was to perspire. he could make a few muffled noises, but no intelligible sound could he utter. "now chuck him inside the car, please," begged mr. jervice. "he'll be quiet now." "quiet enough," said the leader. "but hustle your car out of here and get him twenty miles away as quick as you can. we don't want no scouts trackin' around while he's here." glen's spirits took another slump. it was bad enough to be captured, but his faith had been great in the scouts' deliverance. following him twenty or thirty miles was another thing. chapter xii the bee tree matt's presence in the tree beneath which glen walked with j. jervice was neither accident nor coincidence. he had business there--business which he considered important, which he did not wish, to share either with j. jervice or glen mason or any other person. at least he did not wish to share it right at that moment; later on would be another story. matt was making a bee tree. perhaps you did not know that bee trees could be made, nor how to make them. matt himself was not very clear on either of these heads. he was experimenting, and back of his experiment was a desire to get even with chick-chick. henry henry, commonly called chick-chick, did not desire to shine as a great athlete, sport leader, a water witch, or in any of the other specialties in which matt reveled, but he did pretend to know a little something about beetles, bugs, butterflies and bees. he had long cherished an ambition to find a "bee tree." at last night's camp fire he had announced his positive belief, based on observations of the day, that such a tree was somewhere in the vicinity of the blazed oak. he had watched the bees until dark without definitely locating his tree but he had not given up. matt decided that it would be a great pity to let all chick-chick's efforts go for nothing. he proposed to help find such a tree, or to put chick-chick in the way of it so that he would be bound to find it. he wanted the find to be public, and the interest in it to be so popular that all thought of buried treasure--especially treasure buried in a bread-box--would be obliterated forever from the minds of those in camp. matt had gone to some little trouble in his fixing. he had neatly lettered a sign: "wild honey. prepared by the honey bees for chick-chick." this he stuck into the bottom of the hollow limb, only an end protruding. then he put in a good chunk of honeycomb, begged from bob. from a small jar he then released some half dozen bees which he had allowed himself to borrow from mr. ryder's hives. his supposition was that these bees would fill up and fly back to the hives. soon they would return bringing their mates with them. in a short time a steady stream of bees would be passing in and out of that hollow limb, which would be just the time for chick-chick to make his proud discovery and announce it. after matt had fixed the tree to his satisfaction his chief trouble was to lead chick-chick to make the discovery in a perfectly natural manner. the best opportunity came as they went back to camp after the morning swim. chick-chick was always a wanderer, likely at any moment to dart off in sudden pursuit of something. this morning it was a butterfly, and to matt's delight he ran in the direction of the loaded tree. the crowd joined in the pursuit. they were within a short distance of matt's tree before they gave it up. "how about that bee tree you were going to get, chick-chick?" suggested matt. "round here somewhere, isn't it?" "why not?" asked chick-chick. "why not. why ain't this good place as any for bee make her happy cupboard?" "show it to us, chick-chick. you're hiding it. we know what you are trying to do. you want to keep all that honey for yourself." "chick-chick wants all the honey for himself," chimed the chorus. "lead us to your bee tree, chick-chick. don't be selfish." "a'right, boys. there's bee tree in these woods. i don't want dinner--want bee tree. all who feel just so an' similar follow me. here flies honey-bee right now. watch her!" and the bee sailed right to matt's tree. "oh, look at the bees buzzing around that hole. let me get at it," cried an excited scout. "not too familiar," warned chick-chick. "bees have feelin's. d'ye never hear the piece: "how doth the little honey bee in self defense excel. she gives her life for one sharp sting yet hath she spent it well." "leave it to the expert, fellows," cried matt. "let him get at it. make way for the sum of all knowledge." "it's me he means," modestly admitted chick-chick. "he wants me to tackle this peculiar tree. peculiar tree an' peculiar bees!" "why peculiar?" "they've done changed theirselves since i saw 'em yes'day. to-day they're italians--the nicest kind of tame bees we have. yes'day they was wild, black germans--nothing like this." "what changed 'em?" "jes' naturally smart, reckon. see, they scratched the bark gettin' up tree, too. here's place one of 'em rested number nine shoe an' cut bark through. most remarkable honey bees ever heard of." "why don't you go up an' find out about 'em?" "answer me this botanical riddle first. what's difference between tree and a plant?" "we give it up." "you too, matt?" "sure i give it up. what is it." "well, matty, great an' only; in this case ain't no difference. this is tree an' plant too. 'tain't a bee tree but it's bee plant, see. watch the bees. ought to be comin' in loaded an' goin' away light. but they ain't--they're doing just totherwise. somebody's put some stuff up there. who d'ye reckon?" but matt was already stealing away. "let him go," directed chick-chick. "bees are all buzzing 'stung' they are. but no stinger in me." after that, no one cared further what the tree held. they rushed back to camp, for the dinner hour was upon them and their appetites were brisk from their swim. dinner was almost ended when chick-chick, who was acting as a waiter, was called to the end of the table where the scoutmaster sat with will spencer. "mr. spencer is wondering about glen mason," said mr. newton. "he hasn't come in, yet, for dinner. was he at the swim?" "no, sir. i haven't seen brick since morning." the scoutmaster rose to his feet. "mason has not appeared at dinner. has any one seen him since ten o'clock?" there was no answer; the boys waited in silence. at last chick-chick held out a crumpled sheet of paper. "i haven't seen him, but here's what found near tree where matt thought he'd found bee tree," he explained. it was the note from j. jervice. mr. newton read it in silence. "i don't know who could have written such a note," he remarked, handing it to jolly bill. then matt burton found his voice. "i was in the neighborhood where the note was dropped this morning and i saw mason in company with the very disreputable peddler fellow who came here sunday. they seemed very intimate and were going off together." "what do you mean by going off together?" "i mean they were just walking along through the woods like they'd always known each other and were planning something. the thought came to me that they might be accomplices and the peddler had sent the boy into our camp just to work something up." "he sure did it," volunteered chick-chick. "something up and something down," suggested an irresponsible listener. "that's enough, boys." mr. newton brought them sharply to order. "burton has no right to such a guess nor you to such remarks. they don't make for harmony. they aren't helpful. you may all go now, except the patrol leaders and assistants and the signal corps." when the little group had collected mr. newton continued his remarks. "glen mason is a scout--a member of this troop--and we are responsible for him in more ways than one. mr. spencer and i know enough about him to be sure that there is no reason why he should go away with the peddler excepting under misrepresentation. perhaps nothing out of the way has happened, but we have just a suspicion that jervice is making an effort to get glen into his hands for a reward which he thinks he will get." "he'll have a sweet time holding him in his hands after he gets him," interrupted jolly bill. "unless he has help," corrected mr. newton. "and this is not improbable. because of this i want the scouts to divide into groups of four and explore the territory i lay out. each patrol leader and each assistant will take three boys. signal and make for headquarters at once if you find anything. if there is any need of a rescue don't attempt it without me. henry may start at the place where he found the note." thus it happened that a short time later, chick-chick, goosey and two other scouts were making a careful search around the bee tree. "everything's trampled flat around here. that crowd this morning did it," announced chick-chick. "every fellow spread out ten yards to his left." it was goosey who found the trail. "here it is," he cried. "it's brick's trail all right. mr. spencer said to look for marks of heel plate on the right shoe and here it is. there was somebody with him." the ground being soft and damp in spots there was no difficulty in following the trail. it led them to an open glen which showed a recent camp fire and the travel of many feet. leading off toward the road were the broad depressions made by the tires of an automobile. "my find, now," cried chick-chick. "here's where we do some real fine work, an' we can do it on the run, we can. see the tracks. what are they?" "automobile tracks," yelled the squad. "what kind of a tire made 'em?" there was no enthusiastic shout this time. "an automobile tire," ventured goosey. "jes' so, goosey. jes' so! it was rubber one, too, why don't you say? good, safe guess--rubber." "all right, chick-chick. be as funny as you want. if my father ran a garage i reckon i'd know something about tires, too." "'scuse me! you certainly right, goosey. who ought know automobile tires if not me. what i want you see is these tires can be followed anywhere 'cause they're non-skid with that peculiar bar formation. they'll show up on road so we can follow on dead run, we can." "how do you know we want to follow? what makes you suppose mason has gone in the car? maybe we'll find his tracks going on away from here." "bright thought, goosey. ev'body look for tracks leading 'way from here." they searched industriously but in vain. "no good," decided chick-chick. "got old brick in their wagon, all right, all right. we must go after him, we must." "mr. newton said not to attempt any rescue." "we ain't was going to. back to headquarters an' report an' me for my motor-bike. mr. newton mebbe can get a car in buffalo center an' mebbe he can't; but no heavy old buzz-wagon can get where my motor-bike can't catch 'em." mr. newton agreed to chick-chick's plan of chase rather more readily than he had expected. "it's perhaps as good a thing as we can do," he asserted, discussing the plan with will spencer. "i have a good many of the younger scouts in my especial care and cannot afford to leave camp on a wild goose chase." "motor-bike carries two," suggested chick-chick. "apple go with me?" "yes. you and corliss may go. don't do anything foolish. if you overtake the car get the peddler to stop. if glen is a captive use your coolest judgment about interfering. the man may be armed and it would be far better to push on to the nearest town and get help than to risk a bullet. of course, if glen should be going of his own wish you must just come back and tell me." "no fear of that," said spencer. "what shall we do if he isn't to be seen and the peddler won't let us look inside?" asked apple. "a scout's judgment and ingenuity ought to be worth something in such a case," replied mr. newton. "i prefer not to instruct you. i'm not sending you two big fellows out as messenger boys but as scouts. use all the knowledge and courage and skill that you have, but don't take unnecessary risks." chapter xiii the chase on the motor-bike the boys felt the importance of their commission as they rode away from the camp on the motorcycle. they had no difficulty picking up the track of the autocar. it ran directly to the village and on through. "let's find out what the old car looks like," suggested apple. "maybe, too, they can tell us just how long ago it passed." there was no difficulty in getting a description of the car--one enthusiastic person even went so far as to detail all the various articles advertised by j. jervice for sale. "how many people were riding?" asked apple. "a little man at the steering wheel and a big fellow perched up next to him." "didn't you see a boy on it?" "no boy anywhere unless he was inside. of course we couldn't tell about inside. it's jest like a wagon in a circus parade--nice paint on the outside an' the inside left to yore 'magination." "two men on the wagon--one a big fellow!" exclaimed apple, as they left the fount of information. "we'll have to be pretty careful what we do." "sure will," agreed chick-chick. "they got over an hour's start, so we'll have to go some--hello, have they been stopping here?" "looks like it. there's marks that show a man got off the car." "the big man," said chick-chick. "look where the tracks are headed, apple. he's gone back to the village. didn't get back on car at all. good for us." chick-chick had correctly guessed. after j. jervice and his car were safely through the village the big man had alighted. "i'm goin' back to lie aroun' an' meet the other fellows," he said to jervice. "you beat it along with your car. you can stop an' do a little tradin' when ye get to the next county. that'll prove you wasn't anywheer around if anythink should happen to-night. but be sure you git rid of the kid an' start back so's to git here by midnight." apple and chick-chick took up the trail with renewed confidence now that they felt they had only jervice to reckon with. they had seen him at the scout camp last sunday and had no great respect for his dimensions or prowess. it was late in the afternoon when first they saw the peddler's car in the road ahead. "let's trail along kind o' slow and watch him awhile," suggested apple. "maybe he'll be stopping somewhere." as it happened this guess was well founded. mr. j. jervice had two reasons for stopping. one was that he wanted himself to be seen a good, long distance away from the bank, so that he could prove that he was far distant from that region if any robbery occurred. the other was a natural cupidity which sorely regretted the necessity of hurriedly passing prosperous farm houses where perfectly good money was all ready to exchange for his wares. a mile further on a splendid house came into view. everything about it spelled prosperity--its barns, and silos and windmills and fences all showed that the residents believed in having what they needed and had money to spend on their needs. the bait was irresistible. mr. jervice stopped his car at the side of the road, clambered down from his seat and went to lift the bars from the rear door. two boys on a motorcycle ditched their wheel a hundred yards away and crept cautiously up. "he's going to the house to try to sell something," whispered apple. "we must keep him from locking those back doors so we can look inside." "we sure will," vowed chick-chick. crouching in the bushes at the side of the road their pulses throbbed in great excitement as they observed that the peddler addressed some one inside the car. his tone was low so they did not catch the words, but they heard a mumble and saw his cruel laugh. "we'll teach him to laugh," whispered chick-chick. "but supposing he shuts and locks that rear door before he goes up to the house." "that's up to us. we'll watch him. if he locks it we must catch him as he goes through that orchard and get the key away." they watched in great anxiety. mr. jervice closed the rear doors of his van and put the heavy bars in their slots, but, secure in the isolation of his surroundings, he did not apply the padlock. wherein, mr. jervice committed a grievous error. scarcely was he concealed within the orchard than the two scouts rushed to the car, lifted the bar and swung back the door. there lay their new comrade, helplessly trussed and gagged, faint and weary with the close confinement, almost ready to collapse. "water!" he gasped, as apple took the gag from his mouth. "get me a drink." apple was able to supply him from his canteen, and even as he held it to the parched lips, chick-chick was slashing the cords that had been drawn needlessly tight. "i think i can manage this little old machine, i can," announced chick-chick. "apple, you can run my bike. go back and get it." "rub my wrists where the cords cut, while he's gone," glen begged. "that fellow that tied me up--he's a thief, that's what he is. he pulled 'em tighter just to see me wince." he was too cramped to stand on his feet so chick-chick kneeled down at his side to rub some circulation into his wrists and ankles. suddenly a great noise of running was heard. chick-chick looked out through the crack of the door. "it's the peddler," he declared. "he's running like a bull was chasing him, he is. he's headed straight for the car." "we'll give him a surprise," said glen. "probably he's run on to somebody who knows that he's a thief and they're after him. i'll just lie the way i was and you stand where the door will hide you." glen missed his guess in one important trifle. j. jervice did not wait to be surprised. he was in such terror that he waited for nothing. he threw a pack in at the door, slammed it, dropped the bar in place with the incredible swiftness of long practice and in less than a minute had his motor cranked and the car in motion. coming up on the motorcycle a minute later apple saw the car disappearing around a turn in the road, and wildly chasing it a puffing, panting old man, brandishing a heavy club. the positions of the scouts were changed for the better, but they yet were a long distance from freedom. instead of glen tied and gagged in the car with chick-chick and apple following on the motorcycle, apple now was following alone, while, imprisoned in the car, were both glen and chick-chick with the fortunate difference that the gag and bonds were removed. "we're shut in," whispered chick-chick. "pretty mess i made of rescue, i did." "no mess at all," said glen. "i'm free now and ready for anything, or shall be when i get some circulation in my feet and hands. can't move till then, anyway. what d'ye s'pose apple's doing?" "following us along, apple is, you bet. when he gets a chance he'll help us out, he will. say, what's loose board here?" "i don't know," replied glen. "it's got a ring in it like it might be intended to be lifted up." "bet i know," said chick-chick. "i reckon the transmission case is just below here, an' this is fixed to lift out so you can see transmission without crawling underneath." "it wouldn't make a big enough hole to let us out, would it?" asked glen. "no, it wouldn't. but if i can get to that transmission i can stop car--won't run little bit." "could you start it again?" "depend on what i did to gears." "let's try it." the board came up easily. four bolts held the lid of the transmission case but were readily removed with chick-chick's pocket wrench. "now we'll pack in something soft. clog up the gears without breaking 'em." "what good will that do--except make him mad." "help us out--it will. he isn't enough mechanic to find out why can't run. off he goes town after help. leaves us here do as we please. we know where trouble is. fix it. off we go." there was plenty of soft material to feed into the transmission case. the car pulled unsteadily and stopped. the boys cautiously replaced the board in the floor and awaited developments. they could hear j. jervice tinkering around, examining brakes and wheels and everything but the transmission. "hey, you!" he called after a few minutes. "you inside there! d'ye hear me?" then as it probably occurred to him that he could expect no great volubility from a gagged prisoner he continued: "i've broke down an' i'm goin' to git help. when i bring a mechanic back don't ye try makin' no racket or it'll be the worse for ye." the first positive assurance that he had gone was when apple came up on the motorcycle, lifted the bar and opened the doors. it did not take them long to scramble out. the world looked very beautiful to the eyes of glen mason after his hours of real peril and imprisonment. it was fine to be able once more to stretch out and shake loose every little muscle, to be able to draw in a long breath, just as deep as one wanted, free from the muffling of a foul mouth gag. the world was a good old place in which to live and surely glen would henceforth try to live in it in an appreciable manner. "look here, fellows," said chick-chick. "i know all about this old wagon. i can make it go ramblin' right along; handle it so it's perfectly tame an' gentle--take the bit nice an' stand 'thout hitchin'. what d 'ye say? do we make the horsey go for mr. jervice?" "you mean run away with it?" asked apple. "that wouldn't be right, would it?" "you don't know much 'bout this gang, apple. brick's been telling me. he's found out about 'em, brick has. regular band o' thieves, they are." "thieves!" exclaimed apple. "no wonder they acted mean." "no wonder. wonder is they did no worse, it is. they think they're going rob buffalo center bank to-night. we'll show 'em, we will." "would taking their car away stop them?" "it would be apt to hinder," said glen. "i think jervice carries their kit in his wagon and they depend on him to get their stuff hauled away." "take away their little old wagon sure will bother 'em." "what would you do with it?" "turn it round. run back to buffalo center and give sheriff." "all right," agreed apple. "you'll have to get busy if you want to get it back before dark. i suppose i'll have to ride the motor-bike." "reckon you're elected, apple. brick can't ride it, an' i can't run more 'n one at a time." "well, i'll not get far ahead of you. i'll keep you in sight, anyway." chapter xiv safe at camp buffalo riding triumphantly on the driver's seat with chick-chick made the return journey very different from the miserable trip glen had made inside the car, bound and gagged, and horribly jolted at every irregularity of the road. "shall we leave car at buffalo center, or run right on to camp an' show the booty?" asked chick-chick. "we haven't made the trip yet," glen reminded him. "if we're lucky enough to get all the way to buffalo center we'd better deliver it to the first officer we see, sheriff or constable," counseled glen. "we don't want to be arrested for stealing. it won't do for me to be arrested for anything." "but don't you think we ought let scoutmaster see it? let him have say about it. don't you think?" "perhaps we ought," agreed glen, who saw clearly that chick-chick longed for the honor of driving his captured car proudly into camp--an exciting honor which he was not reluctant to share. "it certainly would be fine if we could make it." but it was not to be. daylight was still pretty good, so that they could see a long distance back along the road. and so, when they still had several miles to go, they looked back and saw their nemesis overhauling them. "that car's coming like fury," observed glen. "i'll bet it's jervice and his friends hot after us." "'fraid so," sighed chick-chick. "gettin' all speed out of the old wagon i can." "we'd better try to catch apple and all get on the motor-bike," suggested glen. "can't catch apple unless he takes notion to turn an' see we want him. think we can hide, i do." "hide the car, too?" "hide the car. saw place on way out. it's less'n mile from here. there's creek pretty near dry, and bridge over it. but there's ford by side of bridge, too. we forded it coming out." "can you get the car down?" "think i can. think can run down by ford an' get under bridge. they'll go shooting by without seeing us, they will." it was time to be taking some action. as they mounted the hill they were evidently seen by the pursuers who sent a pistol shot after them, though not with any possibility of reaching them. at the foot of this hill lay the creek. chick-chick slackened speed and scanned the bank eagerly to see if the car could make the descent. dusk was already present under the heavy timber by the creek, and he left the road slowly with the double object of feeling his way and leaving as little track as possible. glen leaped from the car and bent back the brush flattened out by the wheels and kicked dust over the tracks left by the car in turning. then he rushed down and found that by skillful driving chick-chick had managed to make the descent safely and drive the car under the arch of the bridge, so concealed by the abutments and by outgrowing bushes that there would be little likelihood of attracting notice from above excepting from careful searchers. a few seconds later the noise overhead told them that the pursuing car had rushed on, still hot in the chase. "what's to do, now, brick?" asked chick-chick. "got old car down pretty easy, we did. don't know about getting back. reckon i could cross over an' climb t'other side." "i don't believe we want to try it," counseled glen. "we are only a couple of miles from buffalo center. they'll be there in a minute or two. when they find we've dodged 'em they'll start back hunting for us. we'll meet 'em and there'll be real trouble. we don't want their car, anyway." "let's walk on an' catch apple, then," suggested chick-chick. "when he finds we don't come he'll either wait for us or start back. we can all ride into camp on the bike, we can." "leave the wagon just like this?" "why not? 'tain't ours: all we've done is interfere with burglars. if this car carries the burgling things to rob the bank they won't be able to burgle to-night, anyway. let's look for that chart they showed you. if it's anything about the treasure it's ours." "he said he kept it on the shelf with his railroad guides. i'm afraid he put it in his pocket after they'd looked at it." they found the shelf with the railroad folders, but no chart of any description was there. "'fraid you'd see more of it than they wanted," suggested chick-chick. "they need not," said glen. "i don't care what's on their chart." "why not?" asked chick-chick. "why not? they got chart cave. cave is somewhere between our camp an' top buffalo mound. they say indian cave an' think indians have hid treasure there; why not?" "what makes you think the cave is between our camp and the top of buffalo mound?" "didn't you say jervice man stuck his thumb over--so shut out your look. what he do that for if cave ain't there?" "you jump too quick, chick-chick. i'm not sure there's a cave at all. i just know that they talked as if they were looking for a cave or a hole in the ground or some place where somebody had hid a lot of plunder." "sure you know it. an' why wouldn't it be a cave? an' didn't you say the big man said he'd bet indians had bullion hid in same cave they were hunting. didn't you?" "that isn't saying it's so," objected glen. "it's sayin' it's worth lookin'," affirmed chick-chick. "didn't one of 'em say chart was drawn from description indians gave?" "yes, but they might have been fooling 'em." "an' they might not. if it's indian cave it's got our treasure. you draw copy that chart from memory soon as we get back, you do." "i can't draw," objected glen. "maybe i can remember enough about it to tell you or apple how to put it on paper." "here's apple coming now," said chick-chick. "he's the boy to draw. draws better 'n flax seed poultice. you'll draw him all maps he wants when we get to camp, won't ye, apple?" "if we ever get back," said apple. "it's getting dark. father will be anxious. why are you leaving the car?" "don't want it," explained chick-chick. "isn't ours. 'fraid somebody see us with it an' think our name is jervice. we all get on little old bike an' hike along sudden, we do." three boys was no special load for the motor-bike. they were constantly on the look out for the pursuing car which they expected to meet coming back, but nothing did they see of it. they rushed through buffalo center and a few minutes later chick-chick blew his horn for the camp. great was the excitement when it was seen that the search party not only had returned but had brought the missing boy. glen was almost mobbed by the crowd of scouts who pulled him one way and another in vociferous and jovial greeting. it was an experience such as had never happened in all his life, and his heart throbbed with thankfulness, and unbidden and unexpected tears rushed to his eyes that he should be honored with such a welcome by such loyal comrades. "god is good," came the thought, and he knew that henceforth he would live a richer, deeper and more loyal life because of this experience. off to one corner apple had a noisy audience and there were yet others who gathered about chick-chick as he retailed to them in his jerky fashion such things as he deemed proper for them to know. loud and furious discussions were heard from every group. "there won't be any looting of the buffalo center bank while the scouts are in camp, that's a cinch," proclaimed big tom scoresby. "tom'll see to that," added chick-chick. "if tom doesn't do it alone, the scouts will," insisted tom. "we wouldn't let robbers loot a bank with us in camp not a mile away, would we, mr. newton?" "we wouldn't expect to have anything of the kind going on," agreed mr. newton. "great yarn, this," matt burton, was saying to his own little group. "i reckon we're expected to swallow it with our eyes shut. i never heard such stuff." "what d'ye mean it's a yarn, matt?" asked a scout. "this story about those fellows being bank robbers. why that scared little old peddler would be afraid to rob a sandbank. if anybody gave him a cross look, he'd die." "you don't mean to say brick mason's lying?" "oh, no! he just has dreams." "did he dream himself tied up with cords cutting in so sharp they left red welts and took half hour to get circulation going?" demanded chick-chick who had overheard. "red welts nothing!" retorted matt. "i could raise red welts all over my body and never feel it." "you keep makin' insinuations an' i know fellow'll raise red welts on you so you won't feel anything for month," threatened chick-chick. "i felt those welts. saw 'em too. plain as the ridges on a non-skid tire. anybody's thinks brick had 'em made for fun can get all that kind o' fun he wants." "what's the trouble, scouts?" it was mr. newton, his attention drawn by the angry tones. "explainin' 'bout brick's body marks," said chick-chick. "i think you've talked long enough." mr. newton easily guessed the quarrel. "go along with corliss and glen and work your tongue on your supper. you other fellows see they get filled up." glen had rushed to will spencer at his first free moment, but the supper table gave him his first real chance for conversation with him. will had his billy cart pushed up where he could clap glen on the shoulder and tell him again how glad he was to see him safe and sound. "nice, comfortable day you've given your uncle bill," he said in cheerful accusation. "did you worry about me?" asked glen. "not so much about you," explained jolly bill. "but i had a terrible time making my mind easy about that poor peddler and worrying about what would happen to him when you found he'd run off with you." "i didn't believe there was anything j. jervice could do to me, but i found people worse than him. i believe he's one of a robber gang--" "i don't understand these references to robbers," interrupted mr. newton. "perhaps you'd better make it clear to us." so for the benefit of the two men, glen went over the whole story, telling them all about his capture, his suspicions of the gang, the chart he had seen, and the way they had treated him when he refused to acquiesce in their plans. "that sounds very grave," said mr. newton, busy already penciling a note. "i'll get you to take this letter to town, henry, just as soon as you have finished your supper." "you think they intended to rob the bank to-night?" asked spencer. "that was their original plan, i am sure; but i don't know--" he was interrupted by a very earnest and eager delegation of scouts, with big tom scoresby at its head. tom saluted and asked permission to address a request to the scoutmaster. "we want to go out and capture these bank robbers before they get far away," he explained. "according to what chick-chick says, the peddler's car is within three miles of here. our plan is to go after it and use it to catch the thieves." "how many scouts are in for this?" asked mr. newton. as with one voice fifteen scouts shouted "i." others came running to swell the number. "let us think this over quietly, scouts. it would be a great thing for us to capture this gang of thieves, wouldn't it?" there was no doubt that the sentiment met with unanimous favor. "why would it be such a fine thing?" dead silence prevailed for a moment after this direct question; then all manner of answers filled the air. "show what scouts can do!" "put an end to bank robbing!" "protect our fellow citizens!" "glory for troop !" "a scout is helpful!" "great sport to catch robbers!" "a scout is brave!" "show we're good as men!" these were some of the answers that were shot at the scoutmaster. when quiet prevailed mr. newton resumed his talk. "a man asked me once if i didn't think the national council made a mistake in its decree that every organization of scouts must have a scoutmaster. "'you baby your boys,'" he said. 'you ought to put them on their own responsibility.' "but he forgot that certain things, such as a tempered judgment, come only by experience. a scout is brave and a scout is helpful, true enough. but a scout must learn how to use his bravery and when to be helpful. "now suppose i allowed you to organize for a robber hunt, and suppose that, during that hunt, some robber was so unfair as to fire real cartridges and hit some member of our expedition. what good would it do to tell the boy's mother that her son was brave, or helpful, or adventurous, or daring? what would it avail to tell her that in preparation for manhood scouts must develop daring and courage?" he paused, but the silence was broken by no reply. "i can conceive of circumstances in which the risk of your lives would be your duty, and i hope that, should they come, no scout of this troop will count life dearer than honor. but this is not one of them. this is a plain case for plain handling, and i want to tell you how i have handled it. "there is a deputy sheriff in the village and i have sent word to him of the circumstances and of our suspicions. he, being a regularly appointed officer of the law, will take such steps as seem best to protect the bank and to apprehend the robbers. he is not likely to call for help from this camp for he knows that there are but two citizens here who could legally be enlisted in his posse. one of them is crippled, and the other has a squad of young boys in his care; but if the sheriff should feel a need to call upon these men, i venture to say that neither will hold back." the boys moved away in rather an unusual silence. it was broken by a voice from a distant group, speaking loudly in heavy sarcasm. "no need to bother about what the sheriff will do. he won't do a thing because he'll know that the whole thing is a plant." the words rang out quite distinctly above the rather subdued hum of the other voices. "the great an' only matty!" exclaimed chick-chick in disgust. "he sure knows all about it if it's _plant_." chapter xv strength and loyalty glen found next day that he had suddenly become somewhat of a hero. apple and chick-chick had privately given very good accounts of his fortitude and resource. he felt about as happy as ever in his life and all manner of good impulses stirred within him. none of the three who had taken chief part in yesterday's adventure felt very much inclined to energy this bright morning. glen lay in the warm grass close to jolly bill and his billy-cart in peaceful comfort. his muscular arms were a senna brown, his bare chest the same color, excepting where it was marked by a dull blue design similar to that which caused an anchor and various rings to appear prominently upon his arms. "'lo, brick," said the cheery voice of chick-chick, whose light hearted philosophy and undisturbed equanimity under all circumstances glen greatly admired. "some strong man, ain't you, brick?" "pretty strong for a boy," glen admitted. "say, brick, goosey wants ask you question," jerked out chick-chick. "goosey so bashful wouldn't come alone, he wouldn't." "i'd like fine to be strong like you, brick," said goosey. "some of us kids have been talking about it and one fellow says he's noticed that strong men like sailors and railroad men always have tattoo marks like you got. a brakeman told him that's what made him strong. some of _us_ want you to fix us up." glen laughed, but it was a bitter laugh. "do you know how much i'd give to have these marks cleared off, if i had the money?" he asked, savagely. "cleared off!" exclaimed goosey. "why, brick, they're just handsome. that anchor on your arm and the flag on your chest--why we kids think they're great!" "wait till you kids get to be a little bit older and find out what real people think of 'em--i mean people that are people. they call 'em gallows marks in the school back there. the chaplain he's strong against 'em. i 'member when he caught a kid having some ink pricked in by one of us." "got after you, did he?" asked chick-chick. "well, he says, 'you kids know why i always wear a bandage round my right arm when i play tennis?' i'd often wondered. 'i suppose it's to strengthen the arm,' i guessed." "was it?" asked goosey, eagerly. if there was anything that would strengthen an arm he wanted to know it. "strengthen the arm nothing!" replied glen, with contempt. "he rolled up his sleeve and snowed us where he had a woman's head tattooed in. i s'pose you'd say it was a peach of a head, goosey." "wasn't it done right?" asked goosey. "done fine. done as well as they're ever done. but he was ashamed of it. he put on that bandage just so it wouldn't show when his sleeve was rolled up." "i don't understand that," said goosey, in evident disappointment. chick-chick, too, inclined to the opinion that the chaplain was over nice. "you'd understand if he spoke to you about it," said glen. "he says to us: 'every once in a while you'll find a good man and a smart man that is all marked up with tattoo marks, but where they're carried by one clean, smart man, there's a hundred bums and tramps that have 'em. if a good man has 'em it's a safe bet that he didn't put 'em on when he was doing well. it means that some time in his life he was down in bad company. it's the poorest kind of advertising." "that's why he hid 'em up, then." "chiefly. he says 'one reason i cover this up is so it won't set foolish ideas into boys' heads. there's many a business man would pay ten thousand dollars to get rid of the ugly marks. there are all kinds of ways but none of 'em work well and most of 'em cost the fellow that owns the skin an awful lot o' pain as well as the money. the way to get rid of tattoo marks,' he says, 'is not to put 'em on.'" "but since you can't help having 'em, you aren't going to let 'em keep you down, are you, brick, old top?" it was jolly bill who asked the question. they had thought him asleep in his cart. "no, nor anything else," declared glen. "i'm not so far behind. somebody asked me once, 'how does it come you talk so well?' they don't understand that we learn as much in the state schools as in the regular public school, and we have to do our best or make a show at it, whether we want to or not." "but, brick," persisted goosey. "you said a lot about the tattoo marks, but you didn't say yet whether it makes you strong." "chick-chick," commanded jolly bill. "you lead that little boy away. whatever made you bring him here with his sad story? what is there in a little india ink, pricked beneath the skin, to make you strong--does it make father's shirts strong when mother uses it to put his initials in the corner? lead him off, chick-chick." "that's all right," goosey observed. "matt burton thinks it's what makes brick strong. matt says no reform school boy could knock him down if he hadn't been doped up with some stimulant." "you mustn't pay too much attention to what matt burton says," counseled spencer. "oh, i don't. matt says there wasn't any thief and there isn't any cave, and i believe there is. matt says he wouldn't believe it, anyway, 'cause brick says it's so." "you'd better run along, little boy, before you say something matt'll be sorry for," said spencer. glen had stood a good deal from matt and had borne it quietly. it was not that it did not sting, but that he believed he was "taking his medicine." let no one suppose, however, that because he had started on the up route, glen mason disclosed any anatomical peculiarities such as the sprouting of wings. his capacity for taking a wrong view of matters was as great as ever. the only difference was that he resisted it occasionally. but there was a limit to his resistance, and so nearly had he reached it that this report of goosey's decided him to take a sufficient vacation from his good principles to allow of the administration to matt burton of one good, swift punch. goosey said that matt was walking toward buffalo center when last seen. there was only one road to the village, so with his bottled up vengeance in his heart glen struck out along this road. there, on the main street of the little town, right at the bank corner, stood matt talking to a couple of men who sat on the low railing which served for ornament rather than protection to the bank front. one of the men wore a star on his coat; the other was a rough looking individual who yet had an official air. it was no part of glen's program to create a public disturbance, but he was quite resolved not to let matt get far out of his sight. a good plan was to hike through the alley and come up on the south side of the bank building, where, hidden by a convenient pillar, he would be able to hear what was going on without being seen. glen lost no time getting through the alley, and in a few moments, flattened against the wall at the southwest corner, could hear all that matt said to the men as they sat on the rail at the west front. "what we want," said one man, "is to catch 'em in the act. they was timid last night and the fust little noise we made they was off. are you one o' them scouts as seen 'em yestiddy?" "i have seen the little peddler," asserted matt. "i didn't think he had spunk enough to rob a blind man." "mebbe he has--mebbe he ain't. it don't allus take spunk. yore chief said they was another fellow--desp'rit villain. did ye see him?" "no, i didn't," matt admitted reluctantly. "i don't often have any luck. it takes fellows like glen mason." "name sounds familiar. mason! glen mason! let me look at that circ'lar i got in my pocket. thought that was it. fellow, that name, just run off f'm the reform school. here's the bill about it." glen was seized with a paralyzing terror. this constable or sheriff or whatever he was had only to reach around the corner to lay hands right on him. he forgot all about revenge on matt--what he now wanted was to get away. then he heard the officer's next question. "this glen mason fellow you speak about--is he one of your regular scouts?" glen waited in breathless suspense to hear how judas would betray him. the answer left him high and dry, gasping with surprise. "yes, he's a regular scout," said matt. "he's a tenderfoot. i suppose it isn't such a very uncommon name." after all, matt was a scout--a scout and a patrol leader. he might be conceited, he might be supercilious, he might and did need a lot of nonsense sweated out of him. but he was a scout, and--a scout is loyal! he would have loved dearly to see glen mason sent back to the reform school and thus removed from disputing his preeminence. but he was no judas--his should not be the tongue to betray a fellow scout. glen straightened the fist that he had clenched so fiercely at his side, and drew a deep breath as he settled himself down more closely into the protection of his pillar. "i'd like to see the feller that seen the robbers an' took the ride in their car. i'd like to see the car. i didn't see it when they went through here yestiddy." it was the rough voice again. "why not go now and see it?" asked matt. "the bridge where the boys hid it is only a couple of miles away." "no good," replied the man. "them boys wasn't as smart as they thunk. we sent up to get the car fust thing after yore chief sent the word to us last night, but all they was left of it was tracks." so the car was gone. glen could easily understand how they discovered it. they had only to run back to where the peculiar tires ended their journey and then search to find where they had left the track. so the ford would have been discovered and then the car. "if i'd been driving i'd have run it right up to the sheriff's office and claimed the reward," boasted matt. "mebbe you would--mebbe you wouldn't. mebbe you'd got a few slugs o' lead under your vest. them fellers must ha' been pretty clos't around to get that car away so quick. i think them boys was clever. anyway they wasn't no reward then. they is now--five hundred dollars. the bankers' association offered it soon as they heard the story." "when are you going to hunt them out?" asked matt. "huntin' right now, son. huntin' while we set gassin' with you. we hunts in our sleep." "no joking, now. when are you going to get up a posse? i want to go along." "we'll send for ye when we feel that we need ye, son. come along, ike. i hear number three whistlin' fer the crossin'. watch the blind baggage." chapter xvi detective matty glen managed to get back to the camp without coming under matt's notice. his animosity had all disappeared. this one act of loyalty on matt's part wiped out a great load of snubs and grudges. he knew that his connection with the reform school was quite generally known at the camp, for mr. newton himself--subsequent to the disclosures of j. jervice--had seen fit to explain to the scouts that glen might be considered as staying under his parole, and had further expressed his conviction that the authorities would certainly make the parole permanent in view of all the facts. an explanation made to friendly boys, however, was a vastly different thing from making one to officers who had a chance to earn a reward. he felt, therefore, that matt had saved him from a real danger. chick-chick and apple were anxiously awaiting his coming that they might complete the map which they were preparing from his recollection of the chart shown by jervice. mr. newton had decided that the information glen had gained from the robbers' chart was his exclusive property, since it had been obtained by him while in peril of life and limb. but glen was not disposed to take advantage of this, and with the help of apple and chick-chick as chartographers was preparing a chart for the free use of the entire camp. "we have everything sketched in that you told us," said apple. "what we want now is to be as nearly sure as possible where the big star was." "it looked to be about half way down the side of the mound," said glen. "right near it i saw marks for 'twin elms' and 'deep springs.'" "we've been looking along buffalo creek and we can't find any twin elms. there's only one place where two elms are anywhere near together and one of them is a great big elm, and the other a little sapling that isn't more than five years old. that would throw it out altogether as far as locating our cave." "how about deep springs?" "well, there's the ice box. the springs must be deep there because it's so cold. we used to swim there last year but it's really too cold for fun. that's just about half way down the mound, but there's no elms anywhere near." "how would it be to mark that for 'deep springs' and put the mark for 'twin elms' just where the two elms you speak about are?" "an' then put big star between 'em an' everything be over but pickin' up treasure," put in chick-chick, sarcastically. "no, it wouldn't do," said apple. "we don't know that deep springs and the ice box are the same and we are pretty sure twin elms couldn't be the old tree and the sapling. the only thing i know to do is to make the marks just like you saw them and let the scouts figure them out for themselves. if we go putting our own ideas in we will likely spoil the whole thing." "great head, this," endorsed chick-chick, patting the curly head appreciatively. they took the chart out and nailed it to a tree near the cook shack and in a few moments it was being studied by the entire troop which had just gathered for dinner. it might well be doubted whether the chart served any purpose of enlightenment, after all. it showed certain local land marks and several crosses were designated at different spots but just what they represented was still a mystery. the principal cross was the one over which mr. jervice had placed his thumb, and this inclined the majority to decide to hunt in that direction, but unfortunately it was hard to find "twin elms" thereabout, and the "deep springs" were only a matter of surmise. it had certainly served the purpose of reviving interest in the treasure hunt and mysterious rumors of a cave in which a robber band had hidden booty did not lessen it. will spencer while pleased at the renewed activity was by no means sure that it would help his search. "think we'll have to push on back to our cornfield and do some exploring from the old bed of the lake back to its source, glen," said he. "gold is nothing to us. what we want is water." "supposing some of these scouts should find all that bullion, you'd think differently," said glen. spencer laughed. "you're having a good vacation about it," he said. "we'll stay this week out since we're both having such a good time. next week you push your uncle bill and his billy cart back to ryder's farmhouse and we begin over again." "any time you say," agreed glen. "here's goosey looking as if he was excited about something." "found the treasure, son?" asked will. "not yet," admitted goosey. "but i've got an idea." "when you're looking for treasure look for signs of old water-courses. if you find one, follow it along and see if it leads to a spring." "what good'll that do?" asked goosey. "twenty dollars' worth," replied jolly bill. "twenty dollars in coin of the realm. this old buried treasure may be in such shape that you can't cash it. my money will be straight goods." "guess i'll find the gold the indians stole," said goosey. "i've got a scheme, leastways matty's got one, and he's letting me in on it." it was not until next day that goosey, under pressure from chick-chick, disclosed more of matty's wonderful scheme. "you know, matty's read a lot about detecting things and he knows all about how to do it." "yes, we ought to know about that, goosey. see how he found the bread box." "well, he admits he slipped up there. but this time it's different. he says he ain't soft enough to suppose brick mason is giving out information to help people find the treasure when--" "hold on, goosey. thought matt didn't believe there was any treasure. he believes whole thing fake--matt does." "well, after he talked to the deputy sheriff and found out there was a big reward offered he changed his mind. he says it ain't reasonable the bankers' association would offer a reward just for nothing. so then he says, of course brick mason's chart is a blind. brick wants everybody to be wasting their time on a wrong scent while he goes after the real thing." "real clever; matty is. wish he was as white as brick." "well, matt's clever, anyway; no gettin' around that. what does he do to get on the right track? he goes an' hunts up the indian--the one as told us to look for heap rock." "bright idea. of course indian wouldn't tell matt anything but truth--he wouldn't." "no, because matt gave him two dollars. so indian told him there was a cave and he wasn't sure about the treasure because he's superstitious and he's too much afraid of the dead men to look. but the cave isn't anywhere near buffalo creek. it's on down below." "you mean below camp?" "yes, down in the woods somewhere around vinegar creek. you know buffalo creek gets pretty rapid after it passes the ice box. runs down with lots of force into vinegar creek. it's quite a gully down there and for five dollars more the indian's willing to show matt the exact place." "worth that much to matty?" "worth it! you ain't talkin' sense. matt doesn't need money so awful bad, but there's just two things he'd like better than anything else in the world. one is to find the treasure and so kill that everlastin' joke about the bread box. t'other's to catch the bank robbers an' so show that he's the smartest boy in camp." "that five dollars won't get him to it--it won't." "well, matt's lucky this time, as it happens. he isn't going to have to pay the indian the five. he's found a better way. last night he went down to kinder look things over an' he found a couple o' men camping. first off he hoped they were the robbers but they're pretty nice men and they're engineers. matt wouldn't have told them anything but when he found they were surveyin' vinegar creek and goin' on up to buffalo next he could see right off that they had good chances of runnin' right into the cave, so he gets ahead of 'em by tellin' all about it and making 'em promise equal shares if they found anything." "clever matty!" exclaimed chick-chick. "yes, he's clever, matty is. no good paying any five dollars to any indian when he's got as good a thing as that. these engineers want to see our camp so matty's to bring 'em up this afternoon while everybody's at the swim. he doesn't want the crowd around to be pestering 'em with questions." when this information was carried to jolly bill he was more disturbed than he cared to acknowledge. he had a very well defined feeling that his scheme to restore buffalo lake had become common property and that these engineers were competitors. he felt some safety in the fact that he held options on the land; yet he had a strong desire to see this surveying corps and talk with the men about their work. thus it happened that glen was in camp when the surveyors came--he stayed at spencer's request to engineer the billy-cart. the engineers were young fellows, not overly clean; perhaps it was not to be expected in following such work. they were genial enough to the few people who were in camp. at first they did not seem inclined to pay much attention to spencer, but after he had asked them one or two questions they began to take notice. "where are you running your levels for the vinegar creek survey?" asked spencer. "running what?" said one. "oh, levels," said the other. "we haven't got to that yet." "find it rather hard to carry your lines through all that brush, don't you?" "we will if we have to do it." "what elevation do you work from?" "we ain't quite decided. you see, we only just made camp. mebbe we'll work up here first." "you'll have to see mr. newton about that," said spencer. "we'll see him," said the spokesman. "we're going to look along up this creek a piece, now." "think perhaps you'll start your survey at an obtuse angle or an angle of sixty degrees, which?" asked spencer gravely. "sixty degrees," replied the man, as if glad to get off so easily. "now, i'm quite sure they're no engineers," said spencer to glen as the two men followed matt along the bank of buffalo creek. "i rather thought they weren't from the start, which is why i asked such foolish questions. well, that relieves my anxiety about competition." "what do you reckon they are?" asked glen. "two farmer boys who want to work matt for something, i suppose. we ought to warn him to be on guard, but really i think a few lessons will do matt lots of good." "he did me a good turn yesterday," said glen. "i'd like to put him next." "you can try it," agreed will. "but matt is one of the class of people who would rather be fooled than warned." glen ran along after the trio. the noise of his approach caught matt's ear and he turned with a look of disgust on his face. "you aren't in on this," he exclaimed angrily. "these two men are my friends and our business is private." "i just wanted to tell you something, burton," said glen. "i'll go back as soon as i've said it." "fire away," instructed matt. "the quicker you get rid of it and go the way you came, the better." "come over here and i'll tell you." "these men are my friends, i tell you. whatever you have to say to me they can hear." "they're not scouts," objected glen. "you're not much of a one," retorted matt. the words glen had for matt were not to be bawled into the ears of strangers, so he left the foolish boy to follow his own tactics. it was not too late for the swim and glen was glad to have at least a few minutes of his favorite sport. he was dressing when some one tapped him on the shoulder and he looked up into the comical face of chick-chick. "hey, brick. found something, i have," he announced. "what is it?" asked glen. "hssh! not so loud! don't want whole camp to know. it's secret. footprints on sands of time." "you're talking nonsense," said glen. "no nonsense about it. it's wheelprints 'stead o' footprints, that's all. come an' see. i was chasin' butterfly down near vinegar creek an' i ran on it by accident, i did." the two boys managed to slip away from the crowd and chick-chick mysteriously led the way down the road in the direction of the heavy woods that marked the location of vinegar creek. "while back i heard a car chuggin' along. funny for car be down here, don't ye know. then there's somethin' 'bout an engine's voice--every engine got voice of its own and you 'member it after you get 'quainted. seemed to me i knew that voice. looked at car an' didn't look like anything ever seen. car all stripped off--nothing much left but chassis. then i came down to road an' looked at tracks. wait bit. soon be there, we will." he led on for another hundred yards until they reached a point where an old woods trail struck out into the highway. here chick-chick paused. "look at this, brick," he said. "ever see tire-tracks look like that, did you?" glen looked at the tracks. they were exactly like those he had smoothed away when concealing the departure of the j. jervice car at the ford. "verdict of jury 'guilty as charged'!" exclaimed chick-chick, looking into his eyes. "come on, brick, let's follow 'long this old cow-path till we see our beloved car once more." chapter xvii the end of the jervice gang all that glen could do was to follow where chick-chick led and try to go just as noiselessly, and to flit carefully from one screen of cover to the next in just as unobtrusive a way. it was an old sport with chick-chick, but though glen was an amateur at it he made a very good performance. it was not reasonable to suppose that an automobile could get very far along such a road, yet they had traveled a quarter mile before the tracks swung entirely away from the old path and followed a strip of comparatively bare ground that led in toward the creek. "there she is!" at last chick-chick whispered. "don't look bit like gay old friend we left, she don't." she did not. if it were the same car it meant that the gang, feeling that so conspicuous a mark as the j. jervice car originally presented would be a fatal advertisement of their identity, and yet desirous of making use of the car, had stripped it clean of the betraying top and had taken away everything that could mark it for a peddler's car. their plan would have worked successfully but for the betraying tires, and the sharp eye and quick mind of scout henry henry, commonly known as chick-chick. "are you sure it's the same?" whispered glen. "surest thing on wheels," affirmed chick-chick. "bet you find drygoods in the transmission case if dare look." "why do you suppose they've left it here?" "good, safe place. nobody see. camp not far away, reckon. better lay pretty low here. there's only two of us." late in the afternoon two tired but excited scouts found their way into camp and proceeded to disturb mr. newton in his afternoon study hour. "is it true that there's reward of five hundred dollars for the bank robbers?" one asked. "i believe so," said mr. newton. "the sheriff himself and quite a few deputies are trying to earn it, too. they are covering this county and several neighboring counties, too." "sheriff out this way?" asked chick-chick. "he was in buffalo center this morning," replied mr. newton. "we know where gang is, mr. newton. we want go right down get that reward, we do." "the reward is for their apprehension, henry. so you see you wouldn't get it, because, so far, you don't appear to have apprehended them." chick-chick's countenance fell, but he brightened again in a minute. "we can do it all right, all right. maybe better get sheriff help us." he proceeded to tell mr. newton of their discovery. "and you saw them so clearly you are quite sure they are the same men?" "yes, sir," replied glen. "we located their camp by a line of smoke--leastways chick-chick did. then we climbed a big tree near by and looked right down on 'em. i saw jervice and the big man, and one other man i never had seen before." "what shall we do about this?" mr. newton asked of will spencer, who had been studying with him. "get 'em," replied will, his eyes sparkling. "i wish i were more of a man, so i could help." "hold on, will," said mr. newton, kindly. "you have just as good other work, you know. and wishing won't make you agile and active any more than it will make these boys into grown men. what's the wise thing to do?" "you good, old scoutmaster!" exclaimed will. "of course you're right. you being the only real man here the thing to do is to see if that sheriff is still at buffalo center." "but you ain't going to shut us out?" cried glen and chick-chick in unison. mr. newton and spencer laughed at their eagerness. "you are big fellows, both of you," said mr. newton. "i've no desire to rob you of your glory or reward. you must come with me to see the sheriff, or perhaps you'd better go alone on henry's motorcycle to save time. he will have to come this way to go after the men, and i've no doubt he will want you to show the way. perhaps he'll let me go, too. only no foolishness, remember--no attempt at single-handed captures--no stepping in the way of a piece of heavy artillery just to show that you bear a charmed life. after you've shown the way your job will be to stay in the background." the sheriff was still staying at buffalo center's little hotel. chick-chick was disappointed to find that he did not at all come up to his ideas of a sheriff. glen whose dealings with sheriffs had not been so limited was not so surprised. the sheriff was so much like the other farmers lounging around the hotel office that they had to inquire for him. there was this much to say for him--he was not big, but he looked as if he might be quick and keen. "better come in here," said the sheriff, leading the way into the little parlor. "now, tell me all about it." glen acted as spokesman, for chick-chick was still quite excited. "so you're the boys that got the car away from the peddler, are ye?" asked the sheriff. "i reckon ye ought to know the car an' the man too. you was expectin' to see this man jervice, wasn't ye?" "we were after we saw the car," glen agreed. "now, don't ye reckon that mebbe, seein' the man at a distance like an' being as you was expectin' to see jervice an' the big man, you might just imagined they was what you saw?" "no, sir. it wasn't possible to be mistaken. we were near enough so we could both see the man very clearly." "well; this other fellow, now; the one you never had seen before? what did he look like?" "big man," said chick-chick. "over six foot. black hair, no hair on his face. i got good look once and face was all one side like this, it was." chick-chick drew his face to one side in a peculiar manner. mimicry was one of his talents. "that's the feller," said the sheriff. "if you saw him that's the gang. that was black coventry to the letter. there ought to be two more of 'em and the gang would be complete. you can show us the way, can you?" the sheriff had one of his deputies with him at the hotel. he deputized two active young farmers who were present and the four started on horseback following chick-chick's motorcycle. they found mr. newton waiting at the roadside near the camp. chick-chick began an introduction but the sheriff interrupted. "oh, i know captain newton. remember when ye was captain of battery a--let's see, twelve years ago, that was. come along of us, captain. ye're just the man we need an' we're short handed, anyway." "i've no horse," objected the scoutmaster. "jump up back o' me. it ain't so awful far f'm what these boys say. we'll have to foot it, anyway, for quite some distance, if we want to s'prise 'em." when the place where the wood-road turned off was reached the sheriff decided to leave the horses. "one o' you boys stay here now with the deputy an' help guard these horses," instructed the sheriff. "which'll it be?" "i guess it's chick-chick's find," volunteered glen. "i'll stay." "keep your eyes sharp open," the sheriff instructed his deputy. "if they'd get started afore we could get to their car they might slip by us. then, there ought to be two more of 'em somewheres around, too. might be comin' up any minute. they're slick." after the men had gone glen found it anxious work waiting with the deputy and the horses while chick-chick led the sheriff's posse to glory. "i suppose we'll hear 'em shooting most any minute," he said to the deputy. "mebbe we will--mebbe we won't," replied the deputy. "we won't if things go the way the old man intends." "how is that?" asked glen. "there won't be any shootin' unless they's some break in his calc'lations. his way don't make much allowance for it. he'll get up there right silent an' have his men posted convenient; then he'll step out an' say 'come along o' me, coventry. no good fussin'. my men got ye dead to rights.' an' mos' generally they come." "how about the other two men?" asked glen. "mebbe they're there; mebbe they ain't. it was putty clever of 'em to hide right around here, knowing they was looked for all over the country." "don't you suppose they're staying here so as to look for that stuff in the cave?" "we don't take much stock in that story," said the deputy. "we don't know that they is any cave. what they was after wasn't in no river bank, it was in the bank of buffalo center." he appreciated his little joke and chuckled over it very heartily. his merriment, however, did not prevent him from being the first one to see a little group coming down the main road. "three of 'em!" he said. "one of 'em's from your camp. who's the other two?" "the scout is matt burton," said glen. "the other two must be the engineers that he found camping down here. say, i'll tell you something. they aren't engineers. what's the matter with them being the other two of jervice's gang?" "nothing the matter at all," said the deputy. "lay low now, and we'll get 'em. they're looking awful suspicious like at our tracks in the road. they don't understand 'em. if they break an' run you stay here with the horses an' i'll give 'em a chase." "they've grabbed hold of matt as if they were going to work some rough house play with him," said glen. "look what they're doing." "they think he's sold 'em out," said the deputy. "they got a notion that he's leading 'em into something." just then matt, who was not deficient in courage, made a lunge at one of the men, broke loose and started to run. he was overtaken in a minute by the other man who hit him such a blow as to stretch him full length in the dust of the road. "hold on there, hold on," the deputy counseled glen. "you can't do anything chasin' after 'em. just let 'em stay here till the sheriff gets back an' he'll pick 'em up easy. now, take a holt o' this gun. you needn't shoot it, but it'll look better if you have one. i'm goin' to sneak up a piece and get back of 'em. i'll take this rope along an' mebbe i can git it over one of 'em. i won't be far behind 'em any time. you stay here with the hosses an' if they seem like to pass along without noticing don't you so much as cheep. all you got to do is mind the hosses." when the two men, with matt between them, reached the turn of the road and saw that the tracks led directly to the camp they came to a dead halt. glen could now hear distinctly what they said. "it's a frame up," declared one. "this kid thinks he's smart leading us into a trap. back we go. nobody won't draw on us, neither. you go first, jack. i'll be right next to you with my hands on your shoulders. this smart kid'll foller me the same way. they won't nobody try no gun play for fear of hittin' the kid. jest as soon as we git out of range we'll make a streak for it, an' the kid'll go with us." the man spoke in a loud voice undoubtedly for the benefit of some person or persons who might be supposed to be within bullet range and be desirous of picking them off from ambush rather than risk a personal encounter. perhaps he had heard some warning noise. he had not made so bad a guess, for a good marksman, concealed in glen's position, would have had them at his mercy. glen watched the peculiar parade as the three walked back up the road at a lock-step gait that was quite fast for unpracticed performers. he would have been glad to give some word of encouragement to matt for he still remembered the good turn of the day before. but his business was to watch over the horses. it would never do to betray their hiding place to these desperate men who might overpower him and be off before the deputy could reach them. [illustration: glen watched the three walk back up the road at a lock-step gait. page ] where was that deputy? he said that he would not be far behind the desperadoes at any time; but glen had seen no sign of him since he slipped so quietly away with his long rope. he watched the marching figures going back along the road--farther away--farther yet. soon they would be feeling safe out of range and would break and run. where was the deputy? glen found his answer even though he did not see his man. a long rope circled through the air. it fell neatly over the three close-locked heads and tightened suddenly as it dropped below their shoulders. there was a frantic struggle from the tied up trio and suddenly the deputy came into view belaying his rope to a tree. glen turned his eyes from this scene as he heard the noise of voices behind him. it was the sheriff's party returning. he waved his hand to them for speed and was glad to see the sheriff, mr. newton and chick-chick start toward him on the run. the other members of the party were evidently convoying prisoners. one of the men in the road had freed his hands but the deputy had persuaded him to put them above his head, and stood in the road guarding his capture as the relief party came up. "so you got 'em?" exclaimed the sheriff. "that makes the haul complete. our three below are coming along like lambs." "these three," said the deputy, solemnly, "being trussed up the way they is, looks more like chickens." "loosen up on 'em," said glen. "that one's a scout. you could easily tell he isn't one of 'em. didn't you see the way they knocked him over?" "yes. he's a scout," confirmed mr. newton, coming up. "he has simply been deceived by these fellows, supposing they were honest men. i hope they haven't hurt you much, burton." "hurt me!" cried matt. "they were two to one and they knocked me down but they couldn't hurt me. let me give this big fellow just one--" "that'll do, young fellow," said the sheriff. "these men are in the hands of the law, now. they'll get whatever's coming to 'em." it was a triumphant procession that wound its way back to town. three of the prisoners were placed in their car which chick-chick was called upon to engineer under the guardianship of the sheriff. this left glen to ride the motorcycle alone. still desirous to repay matt's good turn he offered him passage but matt preferred to ride the sheriff's horse. he was unable to understand or appreciate any friendly offers from glen, for he felt that his share in the proceedings had been ludicrous if not contemptible and expected scant mercy from either glen or chick-chick. as a matter of fact, glen would have been very glad to have his company, both that he might repay his good turn and that he might have the advantage of his experience in cycling, for glen was a rank novice and found great difficulty in getting back to camp. chick-chick drove the car all the way to the little calaboose where the sheriff expected to confine the men until train time. the sheriff expressed himself under great obligations. "i don't hardly know what to say about the reward, son," he said. "it'll have to split up a good many ways so there won't be an awful big slice for any one of us." "i'll leave it to you," agreed chick-chick, magnanimously. "maybe you'd let me speak word to jervice." "sure i will. you can talk a book into his ear if you like. but that ain't sayin' as he'll say anything to you." the sheriff had guessed correctly. mr. j. jervice was singularly uncommunicative. "what's meanin' of 'twin elms' and 'deep springs'?" asked chick-chick. mr. jervice shook his head at such foolishness. "you won't get any good out of it," insisted the inquisitive boy. "give me your chart now and i'll use influence with judge to get you easy sentence, i will." mr. jervice shook his head and turned away. "what's that young fool saying about 'twin elms' and 'deep springs'?" asked the big leader. mr. jervice muttered something in reply. "you take it from me, young feller," said the man, angrily. "the thing you'd orter do is to git them names out o' your mind. they ain't no such places." chick-chick went back to receive the adulation of the camp but he was not satisfied. chapter xviii glen and apple find the cave as might be expected, the excitement in camp that evening was intense. chick-chick and brick mason were heroes. no one could do too much for them. even will spencer was excited. "it's a fine thing for you, glen," he said. "i'm glad you had the chance and that you did so well with it. mr. newton says the sheriff will give you and the deputy full credit for the capture of the two fellows that came down with matt." "i'm mighty tickled," glen admitted. "i don't think it'll amount to so very much, though, because there's so many will have to divide the reward." "brick, brick, where did you get that head?" exclaimed jolly bill. "i'm not talking about the reward. can't you see anything better than that?" "why, i don't know that i do. i'm afraid i never will be smart." "yes, you will. you're getting too much for me already. but, don't you see, old brick head, how much better chance this gives you to get your discharge from the reform school? 'single-handed, he engaged in a terrific conflict with two desperadoes and delivered them into the hands of the officers of the law.' how does that sound? you begin to see where you get off?" "maybe so. all i did was to hold the horses, but i'll be glad of any credit that comes to me. i expected we'd hear from the school before now." "don't you fear but what you'll hear quick enough. your friend who was here last sunday is looking after your interests or they'd have yanked you back before now. i only hope they let you stay another week or two so you'll do me some good." "i surely hope they do," said glen. "i'm having such a fine time i wish it would go on forever. you think you'll get along all right while i go up the mound to-night?" "i'll be all right. bob and i will keep the camp from running away. maybe it'll rain again, like it did when you tried it sunday night. you'll be mighty glad to get back to us if it does." "no, we're going to stick it out to-night whatever happens," said glen. "the fellows are going to take their ponchos and stay all night whatever the weather. going clear to the top of buffalo mound. i'm going with apple and he has a waterproof sleeping bag big enough for two. we're going to have a great time. i tell you, will, this camp life with people like apple and the scoutmaster and you is more like heaven than anything i ever dreamed of." a great deal of satisfaction and joy had come into glen mason's life in the last few days. he felt it in the companionship of apple and chick-chick as they marched up buffalo mound together that night, carrying their firewood and blankets for the bivouac. there was a new bond of fellowship between them, a bond which glen would have found it quite impossible to state in words but which was none the less genuine and fixed. the little service at the camp-fire meant more to him than anything he had ever experienced; he had really started his journey, he was definitely lined up with god's people, he had enlisted for actual service. in the few quiet minutes while he lay wrapped in his blanket waiting for sleep to come, and meanwhile looking up at the starry vault which seemed to him to represent god's heaven, he experienced the greatest peace that had ever come into his life. only hardened campaigners and boys can sleep the dreamless sleep of nature next to mother earth, with no soft mattress to pad the irregular outlines of bony prominences, and even boys are apt to waken earlier than common. so it is no wonder that daybreak found glen and apple glad to shake themselves free from their blankets and climb the few feet necessary to get the best of the justly celebrated view from buffalo mound. miles and miles over the flat prairie country could they see in the clear morning air, and with the assistance of mr. newton's field glass they could draw far away objects very near to their field of vision. it was interesting to see the little towns, each with its two or three church spires, its one or two large buildings and its collection of dwellings; to see eight towns in six different counties from the same spot was an exciting experience for these boys. but they did not get their real excitement until they turned their glass down the west side of the mound, and there came in the range of their vision an indian engaged in some mysterious occupation on the bank of buffalo creek. "he's at the ice box," declared apple. "now what do you suppose that indian's doing? look at him dive." "how can he stay under so long?" asked glen, after they had watched two or three minutes without seeing a head appear. "i can't tell you. maybe he swam under water and has come up in some other place that we can't see." but fully ten minutes later, while they still watched in great curiosity, his head came into sight at about the place where he had dived in, and a moment later they saw him draw his glistening body out of the water. "where's he been?" said apple. "he hasn't been under water all that time." "but neither did he come up anywhere that i could see," said glen. "i know what's happened," he added in an excited tone. "he's been in the cave." "i believe you," said apple. "we guessed right. ice box and deep springs mean the same place. i don't know about any twin elms but that cave is there, at the ice box. i don't know why we never saw it, unless because it's on the far bank and we always looked this side." "maybe its entrance is under water," suggested glen. "that indian dived, you see, and we didn't see a sign of him again until he came back." "that's the way of it, glen. and that's the same indian told us to look for heap rock. i believe--" it was the romantic side of apple now appearing--"i believe he is the tribal guardian of the treasure and he stays around here to guard it from our search." "maybe so," agreed glen. "anyway if the treasure's there we'll soon know it. you think you can keep in your head the exact location where he dived?" "yes. it's just at the bend of the ice box. right opposite on the other bank are those two old stumps--" "hold on," shouted glen excitedly, seized with a great idea. "i'll bet you those are the stumps of elm trees--the twin elms." "you're right, glen. i'm sure you're right. i can hardly wait to find out." "we don't want all the camp following us into this. when will be the best time to hunt for it?" "what's the matter with right now?" suggested apple. "it's only a little after five. breakfast won't be called until eight. father won't care where we go so long as we get to camp in time for breakfast." "but the indian! what will he be doing while we explore his cave?" "he won't be there. he hiked through the timber, and he's less likely to be there now than he would be later on in the day." "it's all right with me," declared glen. "now's as good as any time. we'll get our blankets and tell your father we will be at camp in time for breakfast." when a couple of boys have a great secret which they have just discovered they are likely to overdo the secrecy of it. glen and apple made a wide detour through the fields and when they at last approached the ice box it was from an entirely different angle. taking warning from the exposure of the indian they took off their clothes in the shelter of some bushes and made a quick rush into the water. "be careful, now," warned apple. "it's cold as ice and swift as the rapids. must be some big springs around here." but glen was always at home in the water and needed no warning. "here it is, i'll bet," he cried. "just under the ledge, you see. the opening's only about two feet wide and the space above water to the ledge isn't more than a foot and a half. that's why it's all covered up when the water's high. come on. let me go first." once inside this narrow passage they were indeed in a cave. for a few feet around the small opening daylight shone dimly in, but it was lost in impenetrable gloom above and to the rear. a mass of something dense loomed in front of them and apple swimming boldly up declared, it to be a pile of stone. "it's the heap stone the indian spoke about, brick," he shouted. "we've sure found it. let's go back and get some lanterns and things." out in the broad light of day the romance did not seem quite so absolutely sure, and the nearer they drew to the camp the less positive did they become about their discovery. "we wouldn't like the camp to have the laugh on us like they did on matt," admitted apple. "i guess we'd better make sure before we have very much to say about it." "i reckon we had," glen agreed. "we can keep it to ourselves for awhile without anybody carrying it away. that indian couldn't carry it very far by himself. once we are sure, then we can tell the whole camp. wish we could find chick-chick. we could tell him right now." it was a hard thing to be discreetly silent until their opportunity for thorough search came, and fortunate that they had not long to wait. that very afternoon it rained and most of the boys stayed in camp. chick-chick was still away on some mysterious errand. glen and apple appeared clad in bathing suits and tennis shoes. [illustration: with the lighted lanterns they could get a better idea of their surroundings. page ] "we don't mind the rain," apple announced. "we are going out. look for us when you see us." they had already cached a couple of lanterns, a pick and two spades near the ice box and it was no trick at all to get them into the cave. with the lighted lanterns they could get a better idea of their surroundings. the floor of the cave was waist deep in water which seemed to rush on in a swift current and escape again into the creek through a counter opening a few feet away. the cave was quite long. it did not, as they supposed, have its beginning at the opening where they entered, but extended some distance back into the gloom, and as the current was quite swift back there it was evident that there were other hidden openings. the vault of the cave was high, so high that they could not see the top by the feeble light of their lanterns. but the thing that they could see and that thrust from their minds every other subject was a solid arch of masonry. "i was right!" shouted apple. "i was right! that's no natural formation. that has been built up by men's hands years ago. it's sure to be the hiding place of the treasure. what else could it be?" "it couldn't be anything else," agreed glen. "we'll mighty soon see. get up to the top and i'll hand you the things." "i'm up," said apple. "are you coming too?" "sure thing. the way to tear this down is a stone at a time beginning at the top." "let me have the pick, then." "no, you hold the lantern and let me use the pick. i'm the biggest." splash! the first big stone disappeared in the water. another splash and the second followed. but prying them loose was no easy job and they did not follow one after the other in the rapid succession the boys would have liked. in less than half an hour they decided that an enormous lot of work had been done in the effort to bury the treasure. "we think this is pretty hard work getting these stones loose and pitching 'em down in the water," said apple, reflectively, "but think of carrying all of 'em in from outside to build this." "perhaps there were more than two to do it," said glen. "of course there were," said the more romantic apple, his imagination stirred by the picture. "there was a small army of them. i can imagine i see them coming in here in a long procession each carrying his load, giving way to the next, and slipping away quietly in the gloom." "perhaps they didn't do that way at all," said glen, the practical. "if you swing your lantern away up you can see that this cave has high ledges running away back. perhaps they managed to get rock from some of those ledges." "perhaps they did. but it was hard work, anyway, and it's hard work breaking it up. but if we can just manage to do this just by our two selves, and then go back to the fellows and tell 'em we've found the treasure--" "say, that will be fine," agreed glen. suddenly there was a splash at the entrance. "hush!" said glen. "somebody's coming." "it's the indian!" he whispered, a sudden terror seizing him. "worse than that!" said apple, as he saw the figure that minute outlined against the entrance. "worse than that!" he repeated with a severity unusual in his gentle speech. "it's matt burton!" chapter xix buried in the cave the two boys looked suspiciously at matt as he advanced, but neither words of cheer nor resentment came to their lips. a few days ago glen's greeting would have been quick and stinging. his silence spoke well for the first lessons of self-control. apple felt so keenly matt's injustice to glen that the cordiality which was his natural offering to good and bad alike was completely choked. but another splash caused all three to turn their looks again to the entrance and in a moment another head bobbed in sight. it was chick-chick this time. "'lo, fellers!" he called out cheerfully. "d'ye know it's rainin' in solid sheets outside. jest had to get in out of it. old matt, he's follerin' you. i's follerin' matt. he dived. i dived. 'tain't much drier in here than outside but anyway ye don't need umbrellas. mighty little bit of openin' ye came through there. skinned me elbow, i did." "come up here, chick-chick," invited apple. "we can use you. it's dry up here. and i don't know why you came, matt, but since you're here you might as well help, too." "i came to see what you were doing," said matt. "i knew you didn't go out of camp in your bathing suits just for nothing and anyway i wanted to see if i could track you." "didn't bring your bread-box 'long, did ye, matt?" asked chick-chick innocently. "maybe i'd have better luck finding things if i was a confederate of those that hid them." was matt trying to intimate that glen had found the cave because of some confederacy with the jervice gang? glen felt his anger rising. "that's enough of that," said apple. "if you fellows want to help you can take turns one on top and one in the water. come on up, chick-chick." with four pairs of hands they made quicker progress. both the additional workers were strong and active, and matt especially was urged on by the desire to show that he could do as much or a little more than any one else. suddenly he stopped in his work and looked about in evident perplexity. "what's the matter?" asked apple. "too much cold water? maybe you'd better get out of it for awhile." "yes, there's too much of it, and it's too cold too. but what's bothering me is why there's so much. it was up to my waist when i began work. then i threw down a big rock a foot high and stood on it and now it's more than waist high again. it must be rising." "i thought we were getting this pile pulled down awfully quick," said glen. "that's what's made it. the water has risen up to cover it." chick-chick straightened himself up and looked around in the gloom. then he lifted the lantern by the light of which he had been working and swung it far over his head. "where's the opening we came in at?" he shouted. they all looked in the direction where they expected it to be but not even the faintest glimmer of daylight shone in to tell of an opening. "do you suppose we've worked away here so long that it has got to be dark without our knowing it?" asked apple. "no. 'tisn't more'n an hour since matt and i invited ourselves in," objected chick-chick. "wasn't much past four then." "it's the rising water," said matt. "i was so busy and it came up so gradually i didn't notice it. the creek must be rising from the heavy rain." "another thing is we've thrown so much rock and rubbish down there that we've probably choked up that outlet below. there's no sign of it now," observed glen. "say, fellers, i'm gettin' homesick," said chick-chick. "let's get out o' here." "all right for me, chick-chick," said apple. "i'm not much of a swimmer in the dark. you lead the way." "not for chick-chick. i'm no water-witch nor a pathfinder, i ain't. 'twouldn't do for humble bug-hunter to take such honor. let matt and brick draw straws for it." "i'm willing to try it," glen volunteered. "i'm not afraid of it," said matt, his natural bravery pushing him to the front at such a crisis. "let me try." "i hold big rock in one hand an' little rock in t'other. fellow that guesses big rock goes," said chick-chick. "right!" said matt. "an' brick guesses left," said chick-chick for glen. "matt gets the try." matt waited for no counsel. "i know just about where the opening lies," he said, stepping on the pile of masonry. "i'll dive clear through the passage." with a quick spring he disappeared beneath the turbid water. the boys waited an anxious minute, swinging their lanterns far out over the current. suddenly glen thrust the lantern he held into apple's hand and made a quick jump into the swirl of waters. he was up in a moment with a heavy burden. "it's matt!" he cried. "i saw his hand sticking out of the water and jumped for it. he's hurt himself." the boys were down by his side in a moment, apple holding a lantern high above his head. "we must get him up on one of those ledges," said glen. "he's breathing, but he isn't conscious." it would have been a hard task under ordinary circumstances, but in their excitement the three scouts made light work of it. one ledge shelved down toward the water making their ascent easier, and from there they managed to lift the injured boy still higher, well out of reach of the water. blood was pouring persistently from a wound in the scalp, but with his knowledge of "first aid" apple was able to stop this quickly by making pressure. they had no bandage material of any description but they took turns in making pressure with their fingers until the blood seemed inclined no longer to flow and the wound showed a tendency to be covered by a firm clot. matt came to himself for a few minutes, spoke a few half-conscious words and then drifted off again into quiet; but this time it seemed more like the quiet of sleep so they made no effort to disturb him. "he must have hit his head against something pretty sharp when he dived," said glen. "i'll go more carefully and just swim gently along the side where the opening ought to be and reach out with my hands for it." but while they were attending matt the water had made a very appreciable rise. it would scarcely be possible to feel along the edges now. the water was too high. "i'll have to swim under water, fellows," said glen. "don't ye do it, brick," advised chick-chick. "you don't want to chance apple and me having to make another rescue, with matt on our hands already." "you won't have to make any rescue. i'll swim easily and feel well in front of me." "i don't like you to try it," said apple. "we'd be in an awful fix if anything happened to you. there's no danger of the water coming up on these ledges, and it's bound to go down when the rain is over and the creek drops." "cheerful lookout, waiting here for that," said glen. "the folks at the camp will go crazy if we don't show up by night. i've got to get out to carry the news and get help for matt." he jumped into the water without further argument and soon they could dimly see him feeling his way along the edge of the cave. it seemed a terribly long time before he came back. "haven't found it yet," he said with an attempt at cheer. "it seems as if it ought to be easy enough to find a two foot opening but the top shelves down pretty sharp just there and the opening is now probably five or six feet from the surface. it's mighty discouraging to swim around under there and not find anything. i must rest up a bit." "why are you putting that light out, chick-chick?" asked apple. "we c'n see jest's well with one as two, an' i've an idea we may need it wuss later on," replied chick-chick, significantly. "you're not getting scared, chick-chick?" said glen. "no, i'm not gettin' scared. i'm just tryin' to use me thinker a bit. we got a boy here that may need 'tention. won't do to be without light. you fellers got any matches?" "yes, i have some," said apple. "i've kept 'em dry, too." "all right, then. if brick has to quit experimentin' in the water without findin' anything, we'll put out t'other light, too, an' just use 'em when we need 'em. this water's goin' to go down sooner or later, but while we have to wait a light when we need it will be awfully handy." "i'm not through, yet," said glen. "as soon as i find that opening i'll run to camp and get a rope, and we'll have you fellows out in no time. i've got marks outside to show me how to get back in all right." glen stayed away longer the next time, but he came back, shivering and exhausted. "i'm afraid it's no good for awhile, fellows," he admitted. "once i thought i had it but a big log barred the way. then i thought i'd feel where the current rushed in strongest and try there, but it's strong everywhere." just then matt stirred and tried to rise but was held back by apple. "my head aches!" he murmured. "i can't find it." "all right, matty, old boy. you did your best. lie back and go to sleep." "i've slept enough," he declared. "what's the matter? didn't we get out of that cave?" "no. but it's all right. we'll get out after awhile. you just lie back." "i'm all right now. let me up. i remember diving and that's all. who pulled me out of the water?" "it was brick, and it's just as good you should know it," said apple. "he saw your hand waving around and jumped for you." "it was easy enough," said glen. "the water was only about shoulder high then." "i would have done it for you," said matt. "but i don't know that you had any cause to do it for me. it makes me feel pretty small after i've been such a beastly prig. i'll get even with you some way but i don't know how. let me try diving for that hole again." "too big hole in yer head," objected chick-chick. "the water 'd wash all your brains out. awful strong current down there." "better not stir much," counseled apple. "there's quite a bad cut you've got on top and we had a time getting the bleeding stopped. if you move about much you're likely to unsettle the clot and start it again. better lie still." "but i'm not just going to lie down and die here. i want to get out." "easy now, matt. you don't help us by acting that way and you won't help us if you get your head started again either. look at that water. brick's worked in it till he's just about all in. you can't do any better than he." "who says i can't?" he cried, bristling at once. "i'd say you can't if 'twould do any good," replied chick-chick. "that's no way to act at such time 's this. ye ain't bein' like a man or a christian. see, ye've started the blood again and it's trickling down your face. now lie down." in the face of such conditions matt had sense enough to desist from further opposition. he lay down again and soon the bleeding stopped. "chick-chick," he said, in subdued tones. "i give you leave to kick me if i act the fool again." "there wouldn't be any pleasure in it, now," said chick-chick. "hold your offer till we get t' camp if ye want t' please me. what i say is let's put all lights out and everybody go to sleep." "suppose the water comes up on us," objected matt. "it won't. it can't rise much higher'n the creek level an' we're way above it now. let's go to sleep." "i can't," matt still objected. "what's matter? head hurt ye?" "not so much. and i don't mind it so bad when we're all awake talking, but i'm afraid to have us go to sleep." "you 'fraid, brick?" "no," said glen. "i'm too tired." "you 'fraid, apple?" "no, i'm scared, but i'm not afraid. but i don't wonder so much at matt. i know how i'd be if i didn't know god had a firm hold of me, right now. let's sing a little." he started a familiar camp song, and from one song they went to another. when they were singing "where he leads me i will follow" chick-chick held up his hand. "matt's asleep," he whispered. "i'll bet his head's made him 'bout half crazy. hope he sleeps till morning." how many hours they slept they could not tell, for there were no timepieces. they would rouse, turn over, and drop asleep again, for each one was determined to sleep away as much of the waiting time as possible. it was probably early morning when at last glen arose, stretched himself and carefully lighted a lantern. "it's going down, boys," he announced. "the opening isn't uncovered yet, but it's two or three feet lower than it was last night." they were all wide awake now, and all leaned over the ledge to form their own opinion. "the current seems to run differently," said glen. "it acts as if the rock we threw in has stopped up the old outlet and it was running back of the heap we pulled down instead." "yes, sir. strikes me just that way," said chick-chick. "i'm going to take the other lantern and explore a little," said glen. "you fellows needn't come. i'll holler if i find anything." he disappeared behind the ruined arch, swimming and wading, but he was back in a minute, all excitement. "there's a regular passage out this way, fellows. seems to go clear through the mound. the water's rushing down in a torrent. come and see." they needed no invitation, for they were down before he finished speaking. around the crumbled masonry he led them, and pointed to an opening like a natural tunnel which, seemed to lead far into the bowels of the earth. chapter xx the treasure of buffalo lake the cavernous opening into which the boys swung their lanterns in a vain attempt to penetrate its gloom seemed indeed to lead into the heart of buffalo mound. a muddy, turbulent stream was rushing down it at a tremendous rate, but there was room enough left to allow the passage of an agile boy, willing to bend himself double, and the water was not deep enough to be an obstacle. "it may show us a way out," exclaimed glen. "i'm bound to see where it goes. who'll go with me?" "we'll all go, brick. you don't leave me behind in this dark cave, you don't," declared chick-chick. "how about your head, matt?" asked apple. "it's good enough now," said matt. "i'm sure going to be along on this." with glen in the lead they crept one after another along the narrow passage, apple bringing up the rear and trailing behind him the cumbersome pick. at a place where the passage widened out into a roomy vault which gave space for them to stand erect glen halted the little company and pointed onward to show how the tunnel, leaving this vault, suddenly seemed to narrow so that there was scarcely room for a head above water. "it's going to be pretty risky here, fellows. i think we'd better go one at a time. i'll crawl as far as i can. if i don't come back while you count a hundred let chick-chick crawl after me. if i'm stuck or choked he can pull on my feet and pull me back. then matt can do the same for him and apple for him. i'll either get through or be back by the time you count a hundred." it seemed a long count, and it was hard for them to keep from unseemly hurry. at ninety chick-chick got down on his knees in the tunnel and as apple said "one hundred" he disappeared. matt and apple counted again and this time it was matt who disappeared, and apple was left alone. but he stuck bravely to his counting until another hundred was numbered, then he pushed his pick ahead of him and crawled into the passage, his head scraping the top, his lips scarcely an inch above the swiftly moving water. it seemed a long time before the passage widened, but there were no obstacles, and in a little while he crawled into a larger space where the three dripping boys were waiting for him. "there's a light away on ahead," announced glen. "i believe it's daylight." it was almost a race after that. nothing was considered in their mad rush, and at every turn the light ahead became clearer until glen, still in the lead, made a turning and gave a great shout. the next moment all of them could see unmistakable daylight shining through a small opening. glen was lying at full length in the stream, trying to enlarge the opening with his hands, when they reached him. "it's buffalo hollow!" he cried. "we've come clear through the mound. this opening isn't big enough to let any of us in or out, but the water's going out in a good stream now, and soon it will make buffalo lake." apple's pick was brought into use and with its aid the boys made the opening large enough to scramble through one after the other. it was scarcely break of day; the sun was just showing signs of rising for his daily task. oh, how good it felt to be out there in full liberty, able to look around and see all the beautiful things of god's creation; how good to be able to stand erect and stretch out every muscle. apple had scarcely found his feet before he was off at breakneck speed in the direction of the camp. "he wants his father should know he's safe," explained chick-chick, as they looked after the flying figure. "come on, brick. they'll be worrying about us, too. you better keep close, matt. your head might go bad, it might." apple was the center of an excited crowd of scouts for there had been no sleep in camp that night. already they were wigwagging the news of the discovery. "there's a big smoke all ready to be started on top o' the mound," explained a scout. "soon as they get our message they'll start it and then everybody will know and they'll all come in." almost as he spoke the signal shot out its flames and smoke and in less than twenty minutes the scoutmaster was folding his son in his embrace and wildly shaking the hands of his lost scouts. glen was not there. he had gone quietly into the tent where he had expected to find his friend spencer. "good old scout!" cried will, as he wrung his hand. "you've been giving me more worry than all the rest of my children put together, but i forgive everything now you have returned. wherever you've been i hope this will be a lesson to you and you'll never go treasure hunting again." glen's reply was startling. "there is no need," he said. "the treasure is found!" "found again!" shouted spencer. "where? in a bread-box?" "no, sir. no bread-box this time. found in the heart of buffalo mound. it is pouring into buffalo hollow now and by this time to-morrow there will once more be a buffalo lake!" * * * * * with the crowd of people who came from town to see the marvel of the refilling of buffalo lake was a skillful surgeon. he examined matt's scalp-wound. "i can fix that up with the aid of the scoutmaster's first aid kit," he announced. "you'll need a few stitches but i guess you are man enough to stand that." "i can stand it," said matt. "but have all the fellows go away so they won't hear me if i holler." "all but one or two," agreed the doctor. "i'll need one or two boys to hold things." "use the fellows who were with me, then!" asked matt. "they know just about how foolish i can be so it won't be anything new to them." the doctor laughed. "that's the way heroes talk sometimes," he said. "i'm glad to hear you say it." "they know all about me being a hero," said matt. "but they know i learned something in that cave." "all ready, now," said the doctor. "you hold the bowl," he said to apple. "and now that you have scrubbed your hands you may hold this pan of instruments," he said to chick-chick. "and i guess we haven't anything for you to hold," to glen. "he's going to be the anesthetic," said matt. "take hold of my hands, brick, and if i holler, punch me." it was the first time he had addressed glen by the name which had become so familiar to the others, and both knew that in the word all differences were swept away. that day there was great rejoicing all through the camp at the return of the lost boys, great rejoicing at the success that seemed sure to come to the plans of jolly bill spencer, and mingled with the rejoicing an underlying vein of excited speculation whether a close search of the cave would not disclose the ancient treasure of bullion or at the very least some booty stored there by the robber band. tom scoresby again headed a delegation to approach the scoutmaster for permission to explore the cave. "what do you think?" asked mr. newton. "who has first right there--who are the discoverers?" "apple and brick and maybe chick-chick and matty," replied honest tom. "but i reckon they wouldn't want to keep us out." "it isn't my cave," disclaimed matt, who sat there with his head swathed in bandages. "i just butted in. i got all that was coming to me." "'tain't mine," said chick-chick. "but if there's any treasure i want some, i do." glen and apple only laughed, but mr. newton felt that he could speak for them. "this is sunday, boys," he declared. "no one will run away with that cave over night. i don't think that indian will be back in a hurry. tomorrow, after camp drill, all first class scouts--the good swimmers--may explore the cave. mr. spencer claims the water rights. all bullion and other treasure found and not claimed by the authorities will be shared alike by all in the camp." monday morning found the whole camp at the ice box. the stream still was high so that it was no easy matter to gain access to the cave, but no scout who had passed the swimming test for "first class" thought of shirking the attempt. mr. newton himself led the way and glen and apple were not far behind. the many lights relieved the pitchy darkness of the cave enough to show the high ledges that ran still further back into the gloom. "we will explore these ledges one at a time," said mr. newton. "let every scout make sure of his footing before he steps. don't get excited." alas! there was unfortunately little to create excitement. farm products--potatoes--bacon--several suits of clothes--old pipes--several tools--pieces of chain--bottles that once had held liquor--even an old straw hat; but of treasure that could create even a moment's excitement there seemed to be none. "i know who brought this collection here," said apple. "the indian! it's his treasure house all right, and that's why he went in here that morning." "that's all right," said tom scoresby, "but there ought to be a lot of real treasure around here. if no bullion, anyway there ought to be the bank robber's stuff." but all their searching was of no avail. when they returned through the narrow opening they went empty handed. waiting on the bank with the younger boys was matt burton. he had not been allowed to enter the cave for fear that the swim under water might infect his wound. he was greatly disappointed at their failure and, since characteristics do not change over night, it is not surprising that he had a very strong opinion that if their party had been increased by just one member the result would have been different. let this be said of matt--he tried to conceal this feeling. "where d'ye look, brick?" he asked. "we explored every ledge and went into places that grown men couldn't have squeezed through." "did you dig?" "there isn't much chance to dig. the inside of the cave is a shale that no one could dig into. it would have to be blasted." "then there must have been some holes or something--oh, say, did you lift up that shelf of rock we lay on that night?" "no, we didn't find any loose rock to lift." "that rock was loose. i remember how it seemed to tip when we moved. in all i've read about treasure there never was any left just on top of the ground, except in treasure island, and even that was buried until ben gunn carried it to the cave. i'd like to look under that rock." "we'll go back with you, matty," chorused a dozen scouts, only too glad of further exploration. "mr. newton, the water's gone down so much i'm sure i can get through without wetting my head. please let me try it," begged matt. "if ye don't he'll be so excited his brains'll spill out o' that gash, they will," urged chick-chick. "i'll give him all the help he needs," offered glen. "i'll go along myself," said mr. newton. "i guess we can manage him between us." so back the whole expedition went convoying matty to the cave. he led them straight to the ledge of rock and the stamp of a foot was enough to show its lack of balance. the boys were greatly excited--even mr. newton showed immense interest. "use the pickaxes to pry, boys. get under these loose corners," directed the scoutmaster. "tom and glen, you two are the strongest--one at each corner now." the broad slab of rock started easily enough at their energetic effort. a seam appeared to widen--a crack was disclosed--there followed space sufficient to allow a hand to be inserted and then a dozen willing scouts helped with the lift. in a couple of minutes the big slab was thrown over with a crash, and below appeared a cavity that was evidently the work of men's hands. dark as erebus was the interior, baffling the peering eyes of the scouts, until mr. newton, hanging a lantern on each point of a pickax, dangled it into the depths. a vault some four or five feet deep and running far back into the cave was disclosed. it was partly filled with an assortment almost as miscellaneous as the treasure left on the ledges by the indian; a riding saddle, an old coat, several pieces of artillery, some tools which may have been accessory to the trade of burglary, and scattered among these things many articles of personal property which, were undoubtedly of great value. but the thing upon which the eyes of the scouts rested with greatest interest was a metal box, probably secured from some bank, which rested conspicuously on the top of the plunder. "matt and glen get first selection," said mr. newton. "it's their find, whatever it is." "well take the box," said the boys. although not of great size the box was rather heavy, but its handling was no task for two such athletes. to the great disappointment of all it was locked. "never mind," said mr. newton. "we will open it when we get to camp. now the rest of you take each what you can carry. bear in mind that the question of property rights in this discovery is not to be considered at present. that will come later. all we do now is to carry it to camp." they made a queer procession as they came one by one through the small opening. matt and glen came first pushing their box ahead of them on the raft which had been used in bringing over their tools and lanterns. the scouts who followed in their wake found it no easy matter to keep their treasure clear of the water as they crossed the swift little stream. "these robbers chose safe place for their plunder all right, all right," said chick-chick to apple, "but mighty inconvenient, it is." "i don't see why they did it," apple replied. "they ought to have rented a safety deposit box in some bank." from the other bank their passage was watched not only by the excited group of younger scouts but by three new arrivals. they were the sheriff, a deputy and mr. j. jervice. "the kids has found the loot," exclaimed mr. jervice. "they're bringing it over now." "i guess i'll have to take care o' that stuff for you, cap," said the sheriff to mr. newton. "it's just as you say," replied mr. newton. "we would hardly have known the proper thing to do with it. but i want to notify you that if there is any reward for its recovery we claim it." "we'll see you get it," said the sheriff. "this man jervice tells us that there's a lot o' valuable bonds and securities in the box. that's what they was down here after, mostly. jervice thought we'd let him off if he gave the story away to us. the old gang got the location of the cave from an indian, but jervice couldn't find the indian." "the indian's gone," said mr. newton. "i doubt if he ever comes back. there's a lot of stuff in the cave yet and you'd better get a boat and a wagon. some of the scouts will help you." chapter xxi what became of them the morning of the fourth day found the water still flowing into the lake in a steady stream. "it's a sure thing now," said spencer. "i must get to town and arrange to close up those options and organize the buffalo lake summer colony. i'm not going to tell you how much i expect to clear on this deal, but your share won't be less than a thousand dollars." "it will be enough to buy mother a home!" said glen. "that's the thought, boy. and we'll see if we can't get you paroled from the school so you can live at home and work for her. i'm going back with you to the school, myself, but i believe that war-correspondent friend of yours has matters moving already." the war-correspondent friend, taking an unusual interest in the case, had been doing his best, but he had found it a case of many complications. that very day, however, he had received an official communication of favorable tone from his friend, the superintendent. "the board of control," wrote the superintendent, "finds in the case of glen mason some very unusual and delicate features. it is not the desire of the board to reward a boy for running away by granting him an unconditional parole. neither is it their desire to keep in the institution a boy who has been found worthy of parole privileges. in this case the boy voluntarily offers to return. not only so but he has undergone such a transformation that he returns as a reformed character. furthermore he has rendered a service to the state in assisting in the apprehension of two dangerous characters. added to all this he is greatly needed at home for the support which a boy of his age and intelligence can give to his mother. in consideration of all these things the board is inclined to grant a parole subject to the usual conditions." in a personal note which accompanied this letter the superintendent made a few additional remarks to his old friend. "another rather unusual element is that mason's running away has been altogether too well done. he has been too fortunate. usually such a boy would get into bad hands and go from bad to worse. it would never do for us to have him back at the school telling about all his good times and how he was to have a thousand dollars for his part in discovering this wonderful lake about which you phoned me this morning. every boy in the school would be keen to try the adventure. i am glad for glen that he has surrendered his life to god's guidance and i know that he has found the one real, safe way of life. so i surrender him gladly, and i feel sure that you and mr. newton will not forget your promises of guidance and support." glen went home with will spencer to stay with him while he wound up his business affairs and disposed of his options on the buffalo lake property to a syndicate. "i'm going to take you out to see an old friend, glen," said spencer one day. "i still have a great deal of business to care for before i can go away. you know i want to go to that famous hospital, where, if they can't make a whole man of me, they will make me look and walk like one just the same. i can't go yet, but i have something planned for you right this very day. it's a surprise." they traveled along a road that was vaguely familiar and after a few miles glen recognized that they were drawing near the gates' home. they were evidently expected, for the whole family ran out to greet them. "it seems mighty good to get back here," said glen. "i wish i could stay as long as i liked but i must get away and finish that trip home that i told you i was making." "would you like to stay here, glen?" asked mr. gates. "i surely would," replied glen. "would you like to stay and work with me and learn how to run a farm?" "i don't know anything i'd like better." "step out here into the road with me. do you see that cottage at the corner? it was empty when you were here. it is a tenant cottage which i rent to the man who works for me. yesterday there moved into there a very nice lady with a little girl and a little boy. there is an older brother whom they are expecting, who is coming here to work for me. run--" but he did not need to tell glen to run along. ever since he had been given a new heart and a new life he had felt a yearning for the mother of whom he had been so unworthy. he wanted to tell her that he was a different boy, to show her that he was worthy of trust, to shoulder her burdens, to relieve her of responsibilities, to turn the bitter years into sweet. he did not run, but he walked with a swift and steady gait, with erect head and a clear resolve in his heart. after all he was coming home triumphant, a victor, one who had sought treasure and found it, one who had found the greatest riches of god's mercy. * * * * * mr. gates was not a hard man to work for. glen became more and more convinced of this as the days went by, but the crowning proof came one year later when the kind employer ordered him to drop his work and take a week's vacation at the scout camp at buffalo lake. glen planned a great surprise, but some one gave his secret away for he was met at the station at buffalo center by the entire troop. chick-chick jumped up on the steps before the train stopped and at peril of life and limb pulled him off the train into the receptive arms of apple and matt. big tom scoresby gave him grip for grip in a mighty scout handshake--the only scout who could match him. goosey hung on to his elbow waiting for his turn. all affectation of reserve disappeared on this great occasion--the greeting of brick mason--his welcome to camp--good old brick! glen was glad to shake hands with mr. newton for a good long minute so that he might wink back the suspicious moisture that threatened to rush past the guardian eyelashes. "brick rides on my old motor-bike," exclaimed chick-chick. "same old bike--it is." "brick walks with the troop," glen decided. "where did we get this dandy road?" "built by the buffalo lake summer colony," explained apple. "do you notice all the new stores in town--all because of the colony? wait until you get to the lake and you'll see something worth while." a few minutes later glen stood before troop three's splendid new club-house in appreciative silence. "do you see what we've named it?" said matt, patting him on the shoulder. "look up over the porch." carved in ancient script were the words: ye bread box "and you don't object to that?" asked glen, looking into matt's face. "i object?" exclaimed matt. "it's a compliment. i've learned to take a joke as well as give one. we named it because the money that built it was our share of the reward for the box in the cave, and the second box was a lot like the first box only different." "different inside an' out," put in chick-chick. "jus' like old matty is, it was. good old bread box. go on in an' see what's inside, brick." "all right," glen agreed. "lead the way." "don't be 'fraid, brick. go in all your own self. it's a surprise." cautiously glen pushed open the handsome door and stepped inside. nothing happened. he looked around the spacious room with its home-like accommodations and its air of easy comfort. from a chair by the window a gentleman arose and started leisurely toward him. glen covered the intervening space in two jumps. "will!" he shouted. "will spencer! look out--you'll fall!" "never more, you good old scout," said jolly bill, as he flung a strong arm around glen's broad shoulders. "i can walk as gracefully as you if not as powerfully. i'm all o. k., warranted not to slip or stumble, ready to give a castle cakewalk or an imitation of a highland fling at a moment's notice. what do you think of your new home?" "splendid!" replied glen. "too fine for a scout camp, though. it makes it too easy." "and the easy life isn't the best life is it, you hard old brick? but mr. newton understands that. this isn't the camp--just the club-house. you'll find the camp a half mile up buffalo creek as wild as ever, and do you know what they've named it this year?" "i give it up," said glen. "it's named in honor of the scout who has done most with his opportunities this year." "it's burton, then," glen guessed. "you have another guess coming yet," said jolly bill. "they've named it camp mason!" * * * * * now if you want to follow the further adventures of glen and his scout chums you will find them recorded in another book "boy scouts to the rescue." finis ----------------------------------------------------------------------- the boy scout life series published with the approval of the boy scouts of america in the boys' world of story books, none better than those about boy scouts arrest and grip attention. in a most alluring way, the stories in the boy scout life series tell of the glorious good times and wonderful adventures of boy scouts. all the books were written by authors possessed of an intimate knowledge of this greatest of all movements organized for the welfare of boys, and are published with the approval of the national headquarters of the boy scouts of america. the chief scout librarian, mr. f. k. mathiews, writes concerning them: "it is a bully bunch of books. i hope you will sell , copies of each one, for these stories are the sort that will help instead of hurt our movement." the boy scout fire fighters--crump the boy scouts of the lighthouse troop--mcclane the boy scout trail blazers--cheley the boy scout treasure hunters--lerrigo boy scouts afloat--walden boy scouts courageous--mathiews boy scouts to the rescue--lerrigo boy scouts on the trail--garth the boy scouts in africa--corcoran barse & hopkins publishers new york, n. y.--newark, n. j. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- the camp fire boys series by oliver lee clifton for boys from to a group of resourceful boys living in a small town form a camping and hiking club, which brings them all sorts of outdoor adventures. in the first story, "at log cabin bend," they solve a series of mysteries but not until after some lively thrills which will cause other boys to sit on the edge of their chairs. the next story telling of their search for a lost army aviator in "muskrat swamp" is just as lively. the boys are all likable and manly--just the sort of fellows that every other wide-awake boy would be glad to go hiking with. the camp fire boys at log cabin bend the camp fire boys in muskrat swamp the camp fire boys at silver fox farm the camp fire boys' canoe cruise. the camp fire boys' tracking squad barse & hopkins publishers new york, n. y.--newark, n. j. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- the bobby blake series by frank a. warner books for boys from eight to twelve years old true stories of life at a modern american boarding school. bobby attends this institution of learning with his particular chum and the boys have no end of good times. the tales of outdoor life, especially the exciting times they have when engaged in sports against rival schools, are written in a manner so true, so realistic, that the reader, too, is bound to share with these boys their thrills and pleasures. bobby blake at rockledge school. bobby blake at bass cove. bobby blake on a cruise. bobby blake and his school chums. bobby blake at snowtop camp. bobby blake on the school nine. bobby blake on a ranch. bobby blake on an auto tour. bobby blake on the school eleven. bobby blake on a plantation. bobby blake in the frozen north. bobby blake on mystery mountain. barse & hopkins new york, n. y.--newark, n. j. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- the big league series (trade mark registered) by burt l. standish endorsed by such stars of baseballdom as christy mathewson, ty cobb and walter johnson. an american boy with plenty of grit--baseball at its finest--and the girl in the case--these are the elements which compose the most successful of juvenile fiction. you don't have to be a "fan" to enjoy these books; all you need to be is really human and alive with plenty of red blood in your veins. the author managed a "bush league" team a number of years ago and is thoroughly familiar with the actions of baseball players on and off the field. every american, young or old, who has enjoyed the thrills and excitement of our national game, is sure to read with delight these splendid stories of baseball and romance. cloth large mo. illustrated lefty o' the bush. lefty o' the big league. lefty o' the blue stockings. lefty o' the training camp. brick king, backstop. the making of a big leaguer. courtney of the center garden. covering the look-in corner. lefty locke, pitcher-manager. guarding the keystone sack. the man on first. lego lamb, southpaw. the grip of the game. lefty locke, owner. lefty locke wins out. barse & hopkins publishers new york, n. y.--newark, n. j. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustration. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) [illustration: "faster! thad, squeeze a little more speed out of the poor old thing." _the boy scouts on war trails in belgium._ _page _] the boy scouts on war trails in belgium or caught between hostile armies by herbert carter author of "the boy scouts first campfire," "the boy scouts in the blue ridge," "the boy scouts on the trail," "the boy scouts in the maine woods," "the boy scouts through the big timber," "the boy scouts in the rockies," "the boy scouts along the susquehanna." etc., copyright, by a. l. burt company contents chapter page i. the news that reached the rhine. ii. a bold undertaking. iii. giraffe makes a bargain. iv. the blocked way to the border. v. at the ferry. vi. scout tactics. vii. dodging trouble. viii. the country of windmills. ix. at a wayside belgian inn. x. the throb in the night breeze. xi. warned off. xii. the penalty of meddling. xiii. repentant bumpus. xiv. more hard luck. xv. at the end of a tow line. xvi. the german raiders. xvii. a man in the tree top. xviii. good samaritans. xix. the battle at the bridge. xx. victory in defeat. xxi. the call for help. xxii. up from the depths. xxiii. "a tempest in a teapot." xxiv. the ambuscade. xxv. the scouts' camp fire. xxvi. a tattooed fugitive. xxvii. the uhlan hold-up. xxviii. turned back. xxix. a change of plans--conclusion. the boy scouts on war trails in belgium. chapter i. the news that reached the rhine. "it strikes me allan's a pretty long time coming with those letters, thad." "oh! perhaps he's struck some exciting news worth picking up; you know he's a correspondent for a newspaper at home in the good old united states, and must always be on the lookout for happenings. have a little more patience, bumpus." "but you see i didn't sleep ten winks last night, thad. after our lovely quiet trip down the rhine by boat from mainz this place seemed just as noisy as any boiler factory." "no wonder, bumpus, with trains pouring in from the east and north, every one loaded down with german first-line troops, field artillery, cavalry horses, aeroplane supplies, and all sorts of war toggery." "yes, but, giraffe, i took notice that _you_ slept like a top through it all, just as if we were camping again in the maine woods, or down in that louisiana swamp where we had such a roaring good time." the boy who answered to the peculiar nick-name of "giraffe" laughed when the stout, auburn-haired member of the trio, known as bumpus hawtree, made this assertion. "oh! i've got it down to a fine point, bumpus," he remarked with a touch of boyish pride in his voice; "i've found out how to make mind win over matter. when i lay me down to sleep i just tell myself to forget all troubles; and after counting a hundred sheep jumping over a fence i lose myself the finest way you ever saw. try it yourself, bumpus, and see how it works." "as a rule i don't have any trouble getting my forty winks, and you know that, giraffe," the fat boy continued, sadly; "but just now i'm terribly worried about my mother back there in antwerp. whatever would she do if this war does break out, so helpless to get away by herself, because of that paralysis she's trying to have cured by a specialist?" "we've given you our promise, bumpus," said the one called thad, "that we'd stick by you through thick and thin, and do everything in our power to get to antwerp. so cherk up and try to feel that it's all going to come out right in the end." "thad, a scout never had a better chum than you've always been to me," bumpus acknowledged, with a trace of tears in his eyes, as he laid his hand on the other's khaki sleeve; "and i'm going to do my level best to see the silver lining of the cloud. but it's tough being hemmed in by a whole army like we are, and given to understand that it's impossible to enter belgium again until the skies clear." these three boys who wore the well-known uniform of scouts were seated in a boat that had apparently been used as a means for descending the historic rhine. thad brewster was the leader of the patrol to which the others belonged. it was known as the silver fox, and formed a part of cranford troop. he had worked his way up until his field of experience was so broad that it entitled him to take the place of the regular scout master of the troop when the latter could not accompany the boys on their outings. giraffe was really known to his teachers in school as conrad stedman. his ancestors had come from this same rhine country long ago, and as the boy had made a specialty of german in school he was able to jabber fairly well during their trip down the beautiful river. giraffe came by his nick-name honestly. he had been given an abnormally long neck by a bountiful nature, and on occasion it seemed as if the boy could even stretch this out to an astonishing extent, just as the giraffe does. he never complained because every one of his mates called him by such a name, for if it hadn't been that he must surely have been dubbed "rubber-neck," which would have been infinitely worse. bumpus hawtree also had another more dignified name, that of cornelius jasper, but it was utterly unknown among his comrades. whether on the baseball field, in camp, on the trail, in a boat, or any other place where boys might gather it was always plain bumpus. no one knew exactly why that peculiar name had been given to the fat boy, except that being clumsy he was always stumbling into trouble, and given to bumping against his chums. these boys, with some others connected with the cranford troop of scouts, had seen considerable in the way of adventure since the first day they organized their silver fox patrol. wonderful opportunities had come to them whereby they were allowed to visit the blue ridge country down in north carolina; go to the maine woods on an outing; cross the continent to the great rockies and enjoy a hunt for big game in the wilderness; and even take a trip down into the sunny south, where amidst the swamps of louisiana they had encountered numerous remarkable adventures. no matter what difficulties beset them, thad brewster and his chums had always met emergencies as became true-hearted scouts, and as a rule managed to emerge from the encounter in triumph. earlier in the same summer that we see them so far away from their home town of cranford they had been concerned in a wonderful hunt for a valuable missing paper that took them along the banks of the susquehanna river, and brought them in contact with a number of thrilling happenings, all of which have been fully described in the volume preceding this. bumpus hawtree's father was the president of the bank, and known to be a wealthy man. the boy's mother had suffered from a paralytic stroke, and urged to go abroad to be treated by an eminent specialist, this trip had suddenly been thrust upon the chums. circumstances having arisen whereby mr. hawtree could not leave his business, he had entrusted the care of the invalid to bumpus, and even agreed to stand for half of the expense of having his three comrades accompany him. thad and allan hollister had long hoped to some day take a boat trip down the rhine, and when they learned that bumpus was going this fever had attacked them more furiously than ever. then came giraffe with the suggestion that he join with them, making a party of four. it proved to be an irresistible temptation. if mrs. hawtree had to remain for a month or so at the sanitarium of the specialist in antwerp what was to hinder the four chums from carrying out their cherished scheme? at that time there seemed to be no cloud on the sky of european politics. servia had indeed put a match under the magazine when some scoundrel assassinated the heir to the austrian throne, and the dual monarchy was demanding redress; but nearly every one supposed it would end in servia backing completely down, and doing whatever her big neighbor insisted upon. so the trip had been made, the invalid left comfortably in the belgian city on the scheldt, after which the quartette of wide-awake american boys hurried across to the german city of mainz, where they managed to hire a boat that would answer their purposes. this was fixed up the best way possible for cruising, and they had taken their own good time drifting down the beautiful rhine. at night when away from any city or town the boys would proceed to camp just as though they were over in america, and navigating the waters of the mississippi or the susquehanna. it would perhaps take a book to tell of the many interesting things they saw and experienced while on this voyage along the german waterway. the task would be a most pleasant one, too; but there are too many more stirring scenes lying ahead of thad and his friends and awaiting our immediate attention to linger here. bumpus had been greatly worried of late. the reports had grown more and more serious the nearer they approached cologne, and evidences multiplied that went to tell them the great german nation was taking no chances of a sudden invasion from the french border. they had seen trainloads of soldiers all sweeping toward the west and south. heavy traction engines had been noticed moving slowly along country roads, and drawing enormous guns behind them. thousands of motor trucks, each also loaded to the limit with men in helmets, had been seen scurrying along. all these things pointed to a growing fear that some terrible calamity was impending over poor europe, so that possibly the long talked of world's war might be nearer than most people across the atlantic dreamed of. to comfort bumpus, thad had solemnly promised him that no matter what happened they would do everything in their power to forge ahead and reach antwerp. when he made that brotherly promise thad could not have foreseen one-tenth of the tremendous difficulties that would have to be surmounted before it could ever be carried into execution; but once it was given he had such a tenacious will that the leader of the silver fox patrol was bound to try and keep his word. their other comrade, allan hollister, had gone into the city for any mail that might be awaiting their arrival at cologne. sitting there with the magnificent twin spires of the famous cathedral in plain sight, the others were impatiently awaiting his return. it may have been ten minutes after the little talk occurred with which this chapter opens that a boy was discovered hurrying toward the boat. from the fact of his wearing a khaki suit like the ones thad and his other two chums sported, it could be set down for granted that this must be allan hollister. as he drew nearer, all of them could see that his face was grave. this gave bumpus a new pang, for he feared he would never be able to make the journey across belgium, and join his invalid mother, who would be waiting for him in antwerp. allan silently handed each of them some mail, but after a glance at his thad voiced the feelings of his other two allies when he said: "you're bringing us bad news, allan; it's written on your face, and there's no use keeping it back any longer. what's happened?" allan was the second in control of the patrol, a good woodsman, and a stout-hearted scout. he braced himself with an effort, and after drawing a big breath went on to tell them the thrilling news he had heard when getting the mail. "the war is on--german armies have crossed the frontier into belgium--king albert has refused to let them pass through his country, and there is a terrible battle being fought at liége, with thousands of men killed and wounded on both sides. the whole of germany and austria have flamed up, and it's going to be a fight to the death with the biggest nations of europe on the battle line!" chapter ii. a bold undertaking. no one said anything immediately. bumpus had turned very white, and a pained expression crept across his round face, seldom seen there. "my poor mother!" they heard him mutter, as he stared over into the mysterious west, in the direction where antwerp was supposed to lie, with part of germany and the whole of belgium between. under ordinary conditions there would have been only one way out of the scrape for the four chums. this would have been to make as rapid a retreat as they could, passing further into germany, and managing by some good fortune to get over into holland where at amsterdam they might secure passage to london by steamer. thad would have laid out their campaign along those lines only for his sacred promise to poor bumpus, who being very set in his way might have attempted the task of getting to the belgian city by himself, and of course making an utter failure of it, because bumpus never did many things right. "so, the worst has come, after all," said thad, presently; "and the torch has been put to the powder magazine that will blow up pretty much all europe before the end is reached." "will great britain fight, do you think, thad?" asked giraffe, in somewhat of an awed voice for one so bold as he had usually proved himself. "that's to be seen," replied the other, gravely; "but we know that france and russia will fly to arms, and i don't see how england can keep out of it. you know she has sworn to maintain the neutrality of belgium even by force of arms if necessary. if the german army is over the border that settles it, i'm afraid." "whew! but there will be a fierce old row!" declared giraffe; "and just to think of our being over here at such a wonderful time. mebbe we won't have lots to tell step hen, davy jones, smithy, bob white, and the rest of the fellows when we get back home again." "yes, when we do!" echoed bumpus, dolefully. "here, cheer up, bumpus; don't look like you'd lost your last friend," the boy with the long neck told him. "remember what thad said about our hanging to you all the way through, don't you? well, it still goes. even the whole german army can't keep us from getting over into belgium, and hiking for old antwerp. we'll pull up there sooner or later in pretty fair shape, and smuggle ma hawtree across the channel to england's shores, mark my words if we don't." thad and allan both said something along the same lines. perhaps they may not have felt quite so sanguine as giraffe, but that did not prevent them from trying to bolster up the sagging courage of bumpus. of course the latter began to show immediate signs of renewed hope. how could it be otherwise when he had the backing of such loyal chums? "but what can we do when the whole country is just swarming with soldiers, all heading in the direction of the border?" bumpus wanted to know. "we've got our passports, i admit, but in time of war they wouldn't be worth the paper they're written on. and, thad, no common person can ride on one of the trains these days, i'm sure." "yes, that's right, bumpus," the other admitted, "and in making up our plans we must omit travel in the regular way." "the border is something like forty miles away from here, i should say," suggested allan, who had of course looked the thing up on the map. "there's the netherlands a bit closer," thad explained, "if we chose to cross over the line; but we might find it hard to get into belgium that way. one thing sure, we must be on the move to-day." "do you mean we'll hoof it, thad?" demanded giraffe, who, being a good walker, evidently did not see any particular difficulty about managing twenty to thirty miles a day over good summer roads. with bumpus it was quite another matter, and he held his breath while waiting to hear what the patrol leader had to say. "if we have to we might make it," thad presently returned, as though he had considered the matter himself at some previous time. "then who knows but what we might be lucky enough to run across some man owning a car, who would either rent it to us or give us a lift to the border." "but, thad," objected allan, "you know what we heard about all cars? as soon as the order for mobilization went out it was flashed from the russian border to alsace and lorraine, and from that minute every car worth owning in the entire german country would be the property of the government. why, if we owned even an american-made car right now it would be taken away from us, to be paid for by the military authorities. i'm afraid it's going to be a case of shank's mare with us." "let it," said thad; "we've got to make a start inside of an hour or so!" that was the prompt way in which most of the matters engineered by thad brewster were put through. somehow his manner of saying it thrilled the others, for there could be seen a new grim look come into their faces. even the woe-begone countenance of bumpus took on fresh hope. "do you really mean that we're going to start out into the west, thad?" he asked, with glistening eyes. "just what we'll do, bumpus!" he was told with a reassuring smile on the part of the patrol leader such as always carried fresh cheer to anxious hearts. "how about getting rid of the boat that's carried us down the rhine so splendidly?" questioned giraffe. "that's already been arranged for," was what the other told him; "all we have to do is to hand it over to that boat builder, and get his receipt for the same. we have paid the last thaler we owe, and there's no reason why we can't leave our duffle here with the same man, to be sent for later on when the war is over and railroads are taking on freight again for america." "it sounds good to me," said giraffe. "i'd hate to lose a few things i brought along to make myself comfortable with--the red blanket, for instance, that's been with me on so many camping trips. i hope there's a good chance of seeing our stuff again some fine day." "well, talking isn't going to help us any, so what do you say we get busy?" suggested thad; and as the others were all agreeable they soon made quick work with packing up their belongings, so they could be left in charge of the owner of the boatyard on the outskirts of the city. all the while they worked the boys could hear a thousand and one sounds connected with the feverish rush of military trains crossing bridges, and starting off anew toward the belgian border at three points beyond the mobilizing centre of aachen or, as it was once called, aix la chappelle, almost due west by south from cologne. when the hour was up they had accomplished all the preliminaries looking to the start on foot across german territory. the owner of the boatyard doubtless wondered what they meant to do, for he asked a number of curious questions. still he readily agreed to store their packages until such time as he received instructions how to ship the same to america, accompanied by a tidy little sum to pay his charges. "if you asked my opinion," remarked giraffe, after they had left the place and started off, "i'd say that old chap didn't wholly believe the story we told. right now he may think we're really a party of british boy scouts, over here in the land of the kaiser to learn some of the garrison secrets, so in case of an invasion later on the beefeaters would know where the weak places in the defences are." "do you think he would go to the trouble to inform some of the military authorities of his suspicions, and get them after us?" asked bumpus, looking concerned, as well he might, for every delay promised to make his task of rejoining his ailing mother more difficult. "let's hope not," said thad; "but these germans certainly do have the greatest secret service ever known. they get their news in a thousand ways, i've heard; and this war is going to give the world the biggest surprise it ever had." when thad made that remark he little knew what wonderful things were fated to come to light connected with the spy system of germany, which would prove to be the most elaborate ever conceived by any nation, modern or otherwise. "next to americans, they're the most wonderful people under the sun!" boldly declared giraffe, whose ancestors had lived along that same rhine river, so that he could not help but feel very kindly toward the whole teuton race. there was bumpus who was on the other side of the fence, for the hawtrees came of good old english stock. hence he and giraffe often had friendly little tilts, each standing up for the land from which his ancestors sprang. that little remark about the "beefeaters" was meant as a sort of sly slur at bumpus by the boy with the long neck, though for once it failed to arouse any comment. having been compelled to pass the city in order to find the boatyard to which they had been directed, the boys were on the northern side of cologne at the time they began their long tramp. little did they dream what amazing incidents were fated to fall to their portion before that journey came to an end. it would have thrilled them through and through could they have guessed even one-half of the hardships and the adventures that awaited them on their bold undertaking. with small bundles thrown over their shoulders after the manner of scouts' knapsacks, they left the river behind them and faced the west. "we've enjoyed meeting you, old father rhine," said giraffe, waving his hand toward the stream as though he looked on it as a very good friend, "and we'll always keep a little corner of our memory sacred to this glorious trip; but we've got something to handle now that's a heap more serious than just loafing in a pleasure boat, and eating three square meals a day." "first of all," said thad, "we might pin the little miniature american flags we brought with us to our coat lapels. then folks can see that we are yankees, and not britishers." "but we haven't run across much bad feeling for the english among the germans," bumpus ventured to say. "huh! wait and see what happens if great britain dares to take up the challenge the kaiser's thrown down when he crossed the belgian border," asserted giraffe. "the first shot a british man-o'-war takes at a german vessel and it's going to be unsafe to talk in english over here. you'll even have to change that snore of yours, bumpus, and give it a dutch twist. now if your name was only gottlieb you'd pass for a native easy enough, with your red face and round figure." thus chatting they made their way along the road leading away from the city to the cathedral. many persons they chanced to meet gave them a respectful salute, no doubt at first thinking they might belong to one of the german troops of boy scouts so common all over the empire. when they glimpsed those tiny flags which the four lads so proudly wore, their eyebrows went up and they were noticed to say things in an undertone, one to another. on several occasions thad thought it best for them to step off the road and settle down in some fence corner, or under a shed it might be. each of these times there passed a company of soldiers hurrying toward the city, and evidently making for a mobilization point so that they might occupy a place previously arranged for in the grand concentration scheme of the nation's army. these delays were not numerous, but they served to hold the boys up more or less, so that by the time noon came they had not covered more than three miles of territory beyond the suburbs of cologne. "there's a ramshackle old car stalled over yonder," thad announced about this time, "and i propose that we see if anything can be done to hire or buy it. all good cars are seized by the military on sight, but they'd pass such a wreck by. if we find we can repair it, and can get even five miles an hour out of the machine, it'd be our policy to commandeer it, if our pocketbook will stand the strain." chapter iii. giraffe makes a bargain. "that's the stuff, thad," declared bumpus, enthusiastically. no one considered this an odd remark for the stout boy to make, because they knew from past experience that he was not an ardent pedestrian. bumpus was not built for action along those lines; he "het up" too easily, as he was fond of explaining, and even now could be seen mopping his perspiring brow with his bandanna handkerchief. the man with the disabled car was so busily engaged that he did not notice the approach of the four chums until they reached the spot. apparently he was about ready to give it up as a bad job, for he scratched his head helplessly, and had a look of utter chagrin on his face as he turned toward them. thad had previously asked giraffe to conduct the negotiations, using his best german to produce results. the man was apparently some small tradesman in one of the towns so thickly scattered about that region. he stared hard at the boys, understanding immediately that they had a foreign look. still the rhine country attracted many thousands of pilgrims each year, and myriads of honest people helped out their living by what the tourists left behind them; so he must have been used to seeing strangers. perhaps the news that had reached his ears concerning the breaking out of war may have been the cause of his puzzled look. while giraffe engaged him in conversation, the others took a look at the engine of the car. both thad and allan had a fair smattering of mechanical knowledge, and it did not take them long to size the situation up, as the latter termed it. "an old rattlebox, sure enough, thad," observed allan, knowing that the owner could not very well understand what he was saying. "i've seen a few worse machines, but i believe i could count them on the fingers of one hand," the patrol leader admitted. "it's easy to see what the matter is, though the man doesn't seem to know," was what allan remarked next. "yes, and so far as that goes it can be remedied without a great amount of time and trouble," continued thad. "would it pay us to make an offer for the discard?" asked bumpus, anxious to have a little say in the matter. the other two exchanged looks. "let's take another squint at the thing before we decide," remarked thad. "agreed," his chum added. "i never did like to buy a pig in a poke, as they used to say." once more they examined the engine, and then took a look at each of the pretty well-used tires. meanwhile giraffe had exhausted his vocabulary, and both he and the old german owner of the stranded car stood and watched what the others were doing. bumpus bustled around like a busy beaver. from the way he poked his head under the hood of the machine, touched this part of the machinery and then that, one would have thought he might be an experienced mechanic; and yet what bumpus did not know about such things would fill many volumes. but then it pleased him to look wise. "did you ask him if he cared to sell the old trap, giraffe?" questioned thad. "yes," the other scout replied, "i put it up to him, and he told me he didn't care if he did, providing he could get his price, and that it was in cash." "the cash part we could meet easily enough," continued the scout leader, "but i'd want to know what sort of a price he means to put on the wreck. it's of little use to him as it stands, for he can't do a thing with it." "i told him so," said giraffe, "and that if we chose to buy the car it would only be to have a little fun out of it, and then throw the old tub in the discard." "it's only fit for the scrap heap," ventured bumpus, pompously. "well, get him to set a price on it, spot cash, and if it's too high we'll step out with shank's mare again," thad told the negotiator. accordingly giraffe brushed up his high-school german and set to work. the man listened to what he was saying, nodding his head meanwhile. his eyes had a cunning look in them thad thought, that seemed to tell of covetousness. "whew!" they heard giraffe say in an explosive way, after the other had committed himself. "what is his lowest figure in cash?" asked thad. "he nearly took my breath away," declared the other; "actually asks five hundred marks for an old trap like this!" "it's highway robbery, that's what!" commented bumpus, in dismay. "he says all the decent cars are being taken over by the military authorities," continued giraffe; "and that this sort of machine is the only kind that it's safe to own." "well, so far as that goes he's right," admitted allan. "yes, but he couldn't get twenty-five dollars for the tub if he put it up at auction!" bumpus asserted, just as though he were an authority on all such subjects; "and here he asks a plump hundred for the bunch of scrap iron." all the same bumpus kept an eager eye fastened on thad, as though he were in hopes the patrol leader might yet find some way to negotiate a deal; for bumpus would a thousand times rather travel in the slowest and most uncertain car ever known than to walk. "offer him two hundred marks cash down," said thad; "and that's a heap more than it's worth. the balance is for the accommodation. we'll likely throw it away after we've used it a bit." "all right, just as you say, thad," remarked giraffe, and turning to the german owner of the car he started in once more to dicker. he had hardly gotten part-way through his speech before the others saw a broad smile appear on the red face of the man, who began to nod his head eagerly. at the same time he thrust out his hand toward thad. "what d'ye think of that, boys!" exclaimed giraffe, apparently both surprised and disgusted; "he snapped me up like a flash. two hundred marks it is, thad, and the trap is ours for keeps." "oh! why didn't we set it at a hundred," groaned bumpus; "a fine lot of traders we are, i think. no david harums in this bunch. we're easy marks." "yes, two hundred of them," chuckled allan. thad meanwhile, fearful lest the man might change his mind, counted out some bills and handed them over to giraffe. "write out a receipt in german, giraffe, and have him sign the same before you give him the money," he told the go-between. this giraffe soon did, and the man signed it without hesitation. then clutching the money, he said something to giraffe, nodded his head several times to the rest of the boys, and hurried away. somehow his actions, coupled with the way he glanced back over his shoulder several times caused the four scouts to look at each other in surprise. "what do you think he means to do, now he's got the money?" bumpus asked. "oh! put for home and hide it away in a stocking, most likely," allan laughingly remarked. "he acted as if he was afraid we'd repent, and want the money back," suggested the patrol leader. "that price was about twice as much as the rattle-trap is worth, you see." "you don't think he's hurrying off to get into town and report that there are suspicious characters on the road who talk english, and may be spies from across the channel?" ventured giraffe, uneasily. "worse than that, it may be," said bumpus mysteriously. "explain what you mean, then," demanded giraffe. "mebbe he _stole_ the car somewhere," suggested the other, "and before we know it we'll be hauled up for the job." the thought was far from pleasant. in the present disturbed state of the rhine country any one who did not have the stamp of the fatherland on his face and in his tongue was apt to fare harshly if placed under a cloud by any circumstances. "well, the sooner we get busy and fix up our new purchase the better, i should say, no matter where the man got it," allan went on to remark. thad thought the idea so good that, taking off his coat, he started in to working at the engine. he had enough experience to know what was wrong, and how to go about fixing the defect, with allan at his back to give occasional bits of advice which helped out considerably. bumpus and giraffe hovered around. they could not be of any material assistance, and did not want to get in the way so as to delay things. so they talked matters over, and every now and then would step closer to see how the workers might be getting along. "i only hope she holds out till we're safe over the border, don't you, giraffe?" remarked the fat boy, fanning himself with his hat, for the august day was pretty warm, and there did not happen to be a breath of wind blowing at the time. "yes," replied the tall scout, "because once we get beyond where the fighting is we can move around without being held under suspicion." "there, thad seems to be fixing things up, and i do believe he's going to try the engine to see if it works!" exclaimed bumpus. it took several efforts to get the result thad was after, but all at once the loud thumping told that he had succeeded. "hurrah!" cried bumpus, showing signs of excitement. "all aboard!" exclaimed thad. fortunately the car happened to be headed in the direction they wished to go, so there was no necessity for turning, which might not have been an easy task. all of them soon stowed themselves away in the body of the car, though it required some crowding, due principally to the fact that one of their number took up enough space for two ordinary fellows. of course that was not the fault of poor bumpus, who was willing to squeeze himself into as small a cavity as he possibly could. when thad started the car they actually found themselves moving along at what seemed to be a fair rate of speed, after their recent slow progress afoot. bumpus almost held his breath for a short time. he acted as though he feared he must be dreaming, and that he would presently awaken to a bitter disappointment. after they had actually covered a full mile, and the machine was still moving ahead, bumpus could restrain his exultation no longer. "ha! this is the life!" he exclaimed with a broad smile on his happy face. "a fellow would be a fool to walk when he could sit here in his own private car and whirl along the highway at this dizzy pace of five miles an hour. thad, that was a dandy idea of yours about buying the wreck; and giraffe, i want to give you great credit for doing the bargaining. here we are headed for belgium in fine shape, and with our cares yet to come." being boys, and with abounding spirits, they did not believe in crossing bridges before they came to them. so while unaware of what the uncertain future might hold for them they did not mean to worry. it was enough, as bumpus said, that the present looked sunny, with not a cloud on the horizon. in that jolly frame of mind they started to do the next mile with slightly increased speed, as the engine "got its second wind," as giraffe called it. chapter iv. the blocked way to the border. they passed over a second and even a third mile without having any trouble. now and then they overtook or met people on the road but although the natives stared at seeing four boys in khaki riding in that dilapidated old car they did not offer to molest them. thad knew, however, that they had a rocky road to travel, for many times they must run up against soldiers, who would not be apt to let things pass so easily. "we're coming to a bridge ahead there, that spans the river," he told the other three presently. "i wonder will it be guarded," remarked giraffe; "i've heard so much about the wonderful way every little thing has been mapped out in case of war being declared by germany, that i reckon each man, young and old, knows just what his part is to be, and has rushed off to do it the first thing when the news came." "yes," added thad, "we were told that the older men of the landstrum would stay at home and guard bridges, water plants, zeppelin sheds, gun factories and all such places. and unless my eyes deceive me i caught the glint of the sun on steel at that bridge right now." "yes, that's a fact, thad; i see soldiers, and they're watching us come on," allan observed, with a tinge of disappointment in his voice. it was with more or less anxiety then that the scouts approached the bridge. "i don't suppose it would be wise to risk rushing it!" said bumpus, and the idea of such a thing was so ridiculous that giraffe laughed aloud. "just imagine us bearing down on the guard in this wheezy old trap!" he exclaimed; "why, old don quixote on rosenante wouldn't be a circumstance to us. he fought windmills, and we'd have to tackle german soldiers armed with guns. well, our only chance would be to _scare_ them nearly to death, so they'd be unable to shoot." "we'll not think of taking any such risk," said thad, severely, though of course he knew very well giraffe was only joking. with many a groan the car was brought to a stand at the bridge. three middle-aged men in uniform stepped up, and one who seemed to be a non-commissioned officer addressed them in german. of course it devolved on giraffe to do the honors, and so he proceeded to tell just who they were, how they came to be on the rhine, and how necessary it was that they get back to antwerp so as to take the sick lady away. all this had been arranged between giraffe and thad beforehand; and possibly the former had practiced his speech at a previous time, so that there might be no hitch. meanwhile bumpus was waiting and listening, hoping for the best. the gruff old german soldier looked at their passports, and then at the little american flag which each one of them had fastened to the lapel of his khaki coat. he shook his head, and it was in the negative, bumpus noticed, with a spasm in the region of his heart. then followed some more conversation between giraffe and the soldier; after which the former turned to his comrades with a look of pain on his long face. "he says we've got to turn and go back to cologne again, boys," giraffe informed them. "he has his orders to not let a single person cross the bridge who doesn't live around here, and is known." "but we are americans, and he might have some consideration for us," complained allan, though he knew just as well as anything, from the severe look of the soldier, that talking would be useless. "it makes no difference," giraffe said, "orders are orders with him. i really believe if the kaiser himself should come along he'd have to go back again. he says we might as well give over our foolish scheme of getting across the border into belgium, now that war has been declared, and the fighting is going on." poor bumpus looked heart-broken. "then we'll have to give up this beautiful car, and just when we were getting so used to it, too," he fretted, as though that were the worst and most cruel blow of all. thad knew it was folly to think of trying to swerve that old man, who had an iron jaw, and may have been with the army many years ago when paris was taken and france humbled. "well, we must make out we're going to do what he suggests, anyway," he said, in a low tone to the others. then he began to maneuvre so as to make the turn. it required some dexterity, for the old car did not respond to the wheel very readily. in the end, however, the turn was negotiated successfully, without any accident. bumpus had been clutching the side nearest him as though fearful lest they might be precipitated down the embankment into the river. it was with despondent faces that the boys started back along the road which they had so recently traveled in such high spirits. bumpus, however, believed that things were not utterly hopeless. he had caught the words spoken by thad, and to his mind they could have but one meaning. "do we give up the ship at the first storm, thad?" he asked plaintively. "we have to make a show of doing what they ordered, you know," explained the pilot at the wheel; "but i noticed on that little map i bought in mainz that there's another good road leading to that belgian border. we can try that and see what luck we have." "was that it about a mile back, leading off to the right as we came along?" asked allan, quickly, showing that he, too, had kept his eyes about him, as every wide-awake scout should at all times. "yes," thad told him. "and you mean to take it, do you, thad?" demanded bumpus, oh! so eagerly. "we can make the try, and see what happens," he was told. "of course, if every bridge and culvert on the road has its guard, we'll not be apt to get very far before we're hauled up again." "well, let's all hope that if that happens it'll be a man without that iron jaw, and one who might listen to reason," giraffe ventured, for he was feeling badly over the utter failure of his attempted negotiations with the guard. they rode on in silence for a short time, and then allan cried: "there's your road ahead, thad; and we've lost sight of the bridge long ago, so they couldn't see us dodging into the same. there are some people coming along, but they'll not notice what we're doing." "i hope you haven't changed your mind, thad?" remarked bumpus, anxiously. "certainly not, bumpus," he was informed, and that satisfied the stout chum, for he sank back again into his place with a grunt. it turned out that the second road was almost as good as the other, a fact that caused the boys to congratulate themselves more than once. "they certain sure do know how to make roads over here in the rhine country," giraffe declared; "fact is, they do about everything in a thorough way that makes a yankee sit up and take notice. no slip-shod business will answer with these germans." "yes, they even turn you back when your passport is o. k., and you've got rights they ought to respect; they're thorough all right, but it's too much red tape to suit me," bumpus complained. "no kicking yet awhile, bumpus," giraffe warned him; "you notice that we're still on the move, and headed for the upper corner of belgium's border. if we've got any decent sort of luck at all we ought to make the riffle." "i'm afraid we're coming to some sort of town," thad told them, "and as there's no way of turning out here we'll have to take our chances." "i did see a side road back a piece," remarked allan. "yes, and running to the northwest in the bargain," added giraffe. "that would mean if it kept on straight it would finally bring up at the holland border, wouldn't it?" bumpus wanted to know. "i don't suppose we're twenty miles away from holland right now," said allan. "if we had to come to it, would you try to get across the line there, thad?" asked the stout boy, and when he was told that "half a loaf would be a lot better than no bread," he seemed to be satisfied that all was not lost. as they proceeded the evidences of a town ahead of them became more and more evident. neat houses, each with its well kept garden, could be seen on both sides of the road. women and children, many of them wearing wooden shoes, stared at the car as it wheezed past, bearing the four boys. doubtless the sight of their khaki uniforms caused a general belief that they must in some way be attached to the army, for several boys ventured to give them a salute, which the pilgrims hastened to return in every instance. "even the kids over here have got the military spirit born in 'em," remarked bumpus, after a very small specimen had waved his hand in real soldierly fashion. they were now entering the town, though it could hardly be called by so pretentious a name, since there was really but the one main street running through it, with others cutting across. "too bad!" they heard thad say; "but we're going to be held up again." several soldiers stepped out in the road. one seemed to be an officer, from his uniform, though he did not carry a sword. he held up his hand in the manner of an autocrat who must be obeyed, and of course thad stopped the car just before coming to the little squad. the other three soldiers carried guns, and with such an array of weapons it would certainly have been the height of folly for the boys to think of running the gantlet. to the surprise of thad, the officer spoke in excellent english. perhaps he had at some time been stationed in england, or else in the united states, though that did not necessarily follow, as undoubtedly many germans were proficient in other languages. "you must turn back!" he said, severely; "i do not know that i would be exceeding my authority if i ordered your detention under arrest." "but we are american tourists, as our passports will show you, sir," thad explained; "and all we want to do is to leave the country. one of my comrades here has an invalid mother in antwerp and he is wild to get to her, so he can take her back home to america. surely you will not want to keep us here against our will, where we would be a burden on you, and with four more mouths to fill?" "it is sad," said the officer, with a shrug of his shoulders, "but now that war has been declared, and we do not know what will befall the fatherland, we must do many things that would never happen in times of peace. so while i am sorry for the boy with the sick mother, it must not interfere with my orders, which were that no one should be allowed to pass on toward the belgian border unless he showed proof that he was in the service of the central government." "i am sorry to hear you say that, sir," thad told him. "there is still more," continued the other, sternly; "this is the second warning you have had to turn back. we received word by telephone from the bridge to look out for four american boys in scout uniforms. be careful how you risk a third offence, for i fear it would result in your being thrown into prison. and remember, it is a long way from the country of the rhine to your washington." what he said gave the four chums a cold feeling. they knew he meant that no matter how innocent of any intention to do wrong they might claim to be, if they persisted in breaking the rules laid down by the german government for war times, why they must take the consequences, which could not be very pleasant. all of those castles in the air which bumpus had been conjuring up during their short ride now came tumbling in ruins to the ground. "i guess we'll have to give it up, fellows," he groaned, "and take our medicine the best way we can. we've tried our hardest to get out of this beastly country; and no one can blame us for not succeeding. but i hate to think of my poor sick mother over there, waiting and waiting for me to come to help her, that's what!" chapter v. at the ferry. "if at first you don't succeed, try, try again!" giraffe was one of those fellows with a disposition very much like a rubber ball; when crushed down by some sudden disappointment he would come up again on the rebound. "here's that other road!" remarked thad; "and do you see any one following after us, to watch, and find out what we do?" "nope, coast clear back here," said bumpus, nearly bursting a blood vessel in his endeavor to look. thereupon the pilot deliberately disobeyed the orders of the officer stationed in the town. he turned into the side road, and thus gave positive evidence of an intention to once more try to run the blockade. at the same time thad understood what risks he was taking; only there may arise situations that demand radical cures, unless one means to lay down meekly and submit to fate. bumpus began to show signs of renewed interest. "it may be a case of two strikes, and then a swat over the fence for a home run, thad!" he announced, after they had gotten well started along the new trail, which did not seem to be built along the same order as those other roads, though not at all bad in that dry season of the year, early august. "let's hope so," replied the pilot. "from the way this road runs we'll have to give up all notion of getting across the line into belgium. we'll be lucky if we can make it holland." "well, along here where a tongue of holland runs down between germany and belgium," explained allan, who had looked up these things on the map, "and which is a part of the limberg country, it isn't over twelve or fourteen miles across. there's one place at the holland town of sittard where the gap can't be much more than four miles, so you see how easy it would be for us to run across that neck, and land in belgium." "with this lightning car," observed giraffe, "we'd hit the border, give one grand splurge, and then bring up on belgian soil." "limberg, you said, didn't you, allan?" remarked bumpus; "i guess i know now where that strong cheese comes from. i only hope we don't strike any factories on the way. it always makes me feel faint, you know." "huh!" snorted giraffe, the taint of german blood coming to the surface, "that's because some people don't know a good thing when they strike it." "well, giraffe, you ought to be glad then that i don't, because sometimes you complain of my appetite, as if i could help being always hungry." "thad, of course we're bound to strike that river again, if we keep on heading into the northwest?" suggested allan. "yes, for it runs into holland on its way to the sea far above where we hope to cross," admitted the other. "this doesn't seem to be a very important road, for we haven't come across a single soul on it so far," allan suggested, significantly. "and from the marks of wheels i'd be inclined to believe few vehicles ever come this way," continued the patrol leader; "but what makes you say that, allan?" "oh! i was only wondering if it really kept on to the river, or turned back after a bit," the other explained. "that is, you hardly think such a road would deserve a bridge, which must be a pretty costly proposition, the way they build them over here, to last for centuries; is that it, allan?" "yes, you've struck it to a fraction, thad. now, supposing there should only be a ford for a crossing, we couldn't take this car over." "certainly not," came the ready reply; "but the fact that so many cars travel the roads of germany in these modern days makes me feel pretty sure there will be some kind of way for getting over the river, even without a bridge." "do you mean by a ferry?" asked giraffe. "more than likely," he was told, "but we're going to know right away, for i had a little glimpse of the river through those trees back there. we ought to be there in a jiffy." a "jiffy" might mean almost anything, but with that slow car it stood for more than five minutes. then allan heard giraffe, who had abnormal vision, give an ejaculation that had a smack of satisfaction about it. "it's a ferry, i guess, thad!" said the tall scout, who had that neck of his stretched to an enormous extent that gave him a great advantage over his comrades. "what makes you say so?" asked bumpus, who could see absolutely nothing as yet. "i notice a rope stretched across the river," giraffe told him, "and yes, there's some sort of a barge or float up at the landing on this side." allan just then announced that he, too, could see what giraffe was trying to describe, and there could be no doubt about its being a ferry. "here's luck!" cried bumpus, puffing out with new expectations. "let's hope they haven't gone and stuck a soldier alongside the ferryman so as to keep him straight!" grunted giraffe; "and, thad, i suppose i'll have to do the interpreter act again, if the chap doesn't talk united states?" "we depend on you for that, giraffe," he was told. the road led directly down to the edge of the water. there was some sort of landing there at which the ferryboat put up. it allowed the traveler who had a vehicle of any sort to pass directly from the shore on to the deck of the monitor which was used for a ferryboat. no one was in sight when they first arrived. "if he doesn't show up couldn't we take charge of the boat and run her across to the other side?" bumpus was asking, as though about ready to try anything once. "toot your horn, thad, and see if it'll wake him up," allan suggested. "there's so little to do on his lay that p'raps the ferryman takes a nap between trips." "that's a good idea," assented thad, and accordingly he used the auto horn to some advantage, making certain doleful sounds that were easily calculated to awaken any sound sleeper. immediately a man appeared in view. he may have been taking a nap for all they ever knew. he was an old fellow wearing wooden shoes and a knit cap. as he approached the car he seemed to look them over curiously. probably it was seldom indeed that any one outside of the natives came his way. "see him take in our little american flags, will you?" remarked bumpus, while giraffe entered into a labored conversation with the ferryman; "he must know what they stand for, too, because i could see his eyes light up when he first noticed the same." giraffe at that moment turned to them. "yes, you're right about that, bumpus," he said; "this man says he has a son and his family out in cincinnati, and wants to know if we've ever met hans kreitzner. i told him i wasn't quite sure, because there were some people in america i'd never yet run across, though i hoped to round them all up later on." "don't josh the poor old fellow, giraffe," urged bumpus; "as for me, i'm so glad because we haven't run across a pesky military guard here at the ferry i'd be willing almost to promise to look his son up when i got back home--by mail, of course, and tell him i'd met his respected paw." "how about taking us on his ferryboat, giraffe?" asked thad. "i hope he hasn't got his strict orders, like all the rest of the men we've run across to-day," ventured allan. giraffe nodded his head in a way that stood for hope. "seems to be all right, fellows," he assured them. "old hans here has agreed to set us over on the other side. perhaps when i promised to double his fee it made him jump after the silver hook more nimbly." "yes, there he goes now to get his ropes unfastened," said bumpus. "whew! from the way he's tied the old batteau up i should think he hadn't had a passenger all this day. he's as slow as molasses in winter, and that can't be beaten." giraffe looked at the speaker and grinned. when bumpus called anything "slow" it must move about as tediously as an ice wagon, or one of those enormous german guns drawn over the hard roads by a powerful traction engine. "let me crawl out first, thad," the fat boy remarked, "if you're meaning to move the car aboard the ferryboat." "bumpus is afraid of you, thad!" cried giraffe; "he thinks you may make a slip and dump the whole business over the side of the boat; and bumpus doesn't care to go in swimming with his suit on. if it should shrink when he tried to dry it, whatever would he do for another?" all the same, giraffe himself was not averse to leaving the little old car while thad was taking it carefully aboard the flatboat used as a ferry, showing that he might be just as guilty as bumpus. "well, now!" exclaimed the fat scout on noticing that even allan joined them, "seems like we might all be in the same boat, doesn't it?" "we expect to be, right away," giraffe told him, calmly. thad did not let the car play any trick. he soon had it aboard the ferry, and about as well balanced as any one could have accomplished. the old man had just about finished undoing the last rope, and in another minute they might expect to find themselves moving out toward the opposite shore, by means of the pulley fastened to the rope above, and the long stout pole which was intended for pushing in the shallow water. "thad, there's somebody coming on a gallop up there!" announced giraffe just then; "and i do believe it's a mounted soldier in the bargain!" "oh! thunder!" gurgled bumpus, almost collapsing; "that's always the way things go. we get just so far, and then the string pulls us back again." "don't let on that you see him," said thad, quickly. "the old man is pretty deaf i should say from the way you shouted at him, giraffe. he doesn't hear the man calling. now, if he is so busy pushing off that he fails to look up, we ought to be half way out in the stream before that horse gets down to the bank." "he's coming with a rush, i tell you!" said giraffe, who had better opportunities for seeing than any of the others, so that it did appear as though at times it paid to have a neck that would stretch. the ferryman had now thrown off the last rope and was stooping down to take hold of the setting pole. another minute or so would decide the question. bumpus was so worked up that he could not keep still. as usual, he advanced some wild idea, for while not as a rule fertile in expedients there were times when it seemed as though that slow brain of the stout boy worked furiously. "there, hang the luck, fellows, the ferryman has seen him!" burst out bumpus, in the deepest disgust; "he's going to wait up for the soldier, and take him aboard." "our cake will be dough," added giraffe, gloomily, "if it happens that the man on horseback comes from the town where we got turned back, and orders us to go back with him, to be shut up in a german dungeon. i've heard a lot about what terrible nasty places those fortress prisons are, but i never thought i'd be in danger of finding out for myself." "do we have to give in so tamely as all that?" asked bumpus, with a spurt of spirit that would have become a warrior; "suppose now he does try to browbeat us, ought four husky scouts from good old america get down and kiss the shoes of just one bullying german soldier, because he wears a helmet on his head. thad, it's up to you to say the word, and we'll all jump on him!" "don't be so rash, bumpus!" giraffe warned him, while thad said: "we'll wait and see what happens before we lay plans that must make every man of the kaiser's army our enemy. here he comes now. every one keep a still tongue in his head but giraffe; and while about it let's hide these little flags. if he asks who we are tell him the truth, though, remember, giraffe!" chapter vi. scout tactics. the horseman was now coming down the bank. already he seemed to eye the four passengers aboard the ferryboat, as though they interested him more or less. "giraffe," muttered thad. "what is it?" asked the other, in a whisper. "you might take occasion to ask the ferryman while we're crossing, whether we can strike the road leading north to grevenbroich, after getting over. get that name, do you?" "yes, and i'll do it as a sort of blind," continued the other; "he'll naturally believe we're meaning to put up there instead of heading across country." the man was undoubtedly a soldier, but thad came to the conclusion that he must now be on some important mission rather than simply riding to a concentration camp. in fact, he soon decided in his own mind the other might be a dispatch-bearer, for he noticed what seemed to be a small leather pouch partly hidden under his long coat. they were soon moving across the stream. the man had dismounted before leading his horse aboard the craft, since the animal showed positive signs of not liking the ill-smelling old car. none of the scouts blamed the intelligent animal either, for the mingled odor of gasoline and burnt grease was anything but pleasant; although they believed that "beggars should never be choosers," and that it was bad luck to "look a gift horse in the mouth." giraffe did not forget his instructions. when they were about half-way across he spoke to the old ferryman, and apparently asked for directions about the way to the town mentioned by thad, for he plainly said "grevenbroich." the man with the setting pole answered him, and even pointed several times in a northwesterly direction, as though assuring him that the place mentioned lay in that quarter. as though regretting one thing he had done, thad took out the miniature stars and stripes and fastened the little flag to his coat again. he realized that the man would readily guess they were not germans, and it was better that he know their nationality than to suspect them of being english. he looked sharply at the emblem, and his heavy eyebrows went up, but he did not say a single word to indicate what he may have thought. the boys were only too well satisfied that matters should be as they were. they had feared something much worse, and that the soldier would order them to turn back again. "what did he say about grevenbroich, giraffe?" thad asked, so that the horseman could plainly hear him mention that name. "oh! it lies off there some ways," said the other, also pointing. "how can it be reached from this road?" further inquired the scout leader. giraffe shrugged his shoulders. it was a new habit he had picked up since coming abroad, for over there on the continent nearly every one depends on contortions of the facial muscles, and movements with the hands and shoulders to add emphasis to what they say, or else take the place of words. "i couldn't understand all he said, you know, thad," he explained, with a broad grin, "because he speaks such terrible german, not at all like our teachers gave us at school. but as near as i could make out, this road comes to a place inside of a mile or so where it branches in three different directions." "well, now," said bumpus, "you wouldn't dream it was of so much importance." "one road runs southwest to the city of duren, where the railroad from cologne goes, and where all the soldiers are pouring through on the way to belgium. then another runs almost north, and lands you at grevenbroich; while the third keeps on until it strikes the border at the holland town of sittard." "gravenbroich is the place for us!" said thad, meaning to ring the changes on that particular name until it had become impressed on the mind of the listening soldier who must naturally believe they were headed thither. they believed they had deceived him when the landing was made, for after paying the ferryman he sprang on his horse and galloped away, never once looking back over his shoulder. thad willingly handed the man the sum agreed on, and the old fellow was very polite, making sure that everything was secure before allowing them to get the car off the float. "that was what i call luck," said giraffe, as they lost sight of the river and the queer ferry. "soon we ought to come to the three forks of the road," announced allan; "when we must decide whether we want to go to duren, grevenbroich or the dutch border." "as if there could be any doubt which we'd choose," observed bumpus. a short time later and they found themselves drawing near the split in the road. just why there should be so many feeders for so ordinary a road none of them could understand; they simply found it so, and acted accordingly. "of course we strike out over the middle one, thad?" giraffe remarked; "but i say, what's going to happen, now that you've pulled up here at the forks?" "wait for me a minute, while i take a look and see which way our friend with the horse went," the other told him. "thad never forgets he's a boy scout, and able to find things out in a way that would never occur to any ordinary fellow," said allan, not without a touch of genuine admiration in his tone; for he realized, much to his regret, that there were times when the same could not be said of him, skillful tracker that he was, as all maine boys are supposed to be. the three of them sat there in the car and watched thad. apparently he had not the slightest trouble in finding what he was looking for, since the hoofs of the horse had left plain imprints on the dusty road. "he's turned up the road that leads to duren, all right, as sure as anything!" announced giraffe, after they had seen thad pass along that way for a short distance. "that means a good riddance of bad rubbish," laughingly remarked allan. when a minute later thad returned he looked satisfied. "he started on that way, and so far as i tracked him he kept right along, so it looks as if we might be well rid of him," he reported. "guess all that talk about grevenbroich told on him," insinuated bumpus, proudly, as though the idea had originated with him, and he felt that the credit should come his way also. they had just started off and gone about a hundred yards when giraffe was heard to snort in disgust. "played a neat game on us after all!" he exclaimed; "we're a fine lot of babes in the woods to let a german soldier bamboozle us in that way. look over yonder and you can just manage to glimpse him through little openings in the trees." "oh! he's galloping off in the direction of duren!" cried bumpus; "and i warrant you after going along that road a piece he came back on the side, to hide, and was there watching us all the while." thad shook his head as though he did not like the situation. "you see," he explained, "if he had any suspicion before about us, it must have doubled when he saw me following his tracks, and then watched us come along this road. he knows now all that talk about grevenbroich was hot air, and that we're making for the dutch border." "yes, and going lickety-split at that!" added giraffe, contemptuously, as the engine emitted several sounds as closely approaching groans of protest as any inanimate object could produce. "well, what's to be done about it?" asked bumpus, uneasily, looking behind him, as though half anticipating seeing a squad of uhlans with their bedecked lances chasing headlong after the suspicious car. "nothing," replied thad. "all we can do is to keep pushing on, trusting both to luck and our sagacity to pull us through." "there's one comfort about it, boys," allan told them; "every rod we cover means we're just that much nearer safety. if we can only get within a mile or so of the border, and the cranky old motor holds out we'll give them all the laugh, even if it means a hot chase at the end." "i wonder if the old tub would be equal to showing a clean pair of heels if you hit up the pace for all it was worth," questioned giraffe. "i'd be afraid we'd all go up in a cloud of smoke and fire. these sort of machines are always balking or else exploding." "oh! now you're just saying that to bother me, giraffe," complained bumpus; "but i've got too much confidence in our pilot to be afraid of trouble. it may stop on us, that'd be the worst that could happen." "now you notice we're coming to a place where it's well settled, for you can see fields on every side, and gardens, too. yonder are some women and boys getting in the harvest; and here comes an old man, his cart loaded down with some kind of roots or potatoes. i hope there isn't a town ahead of us, where we'd find that the officer had telephoned about us." it was giraffe who said this. when making out to be tormenting bumpus he was evidently only voicing his own fears. "no, the road chart shows no place worth mentioning along this section," thad assured them; "but you know the soil here is something like that in holland, and very rich. westphalia and rhenish prussia are the garden spots of germany, so we'll see plenty of farms and grain fields." indeed, as they passed along they saw people working in the fields on every side, but it was always the same, not a single stalwart young man, only boys, women and very old men. the rest had all obeyed the call to the colors, and were already either fighting at the front, or else in concentration camps, preparing for the time when they would be needed to fill awful gaps in the ranks. all at once the engine stopped short. "that's what i call a low-down trick!" said giraffe, as thad sprang out to throw back the hood so as to take a look, and see what was wrong this time. "oh! we must expect something like that to happen every little while," he was told by allan; "it's a poor arrangement at the best, and pretty well worn out in the bargain. but we agreed to make the best of it, and so what's the use of knocking?" the three of them sat there for a little while, as thad pottered at the refractory machinery. then allan jumped out to assist him, saying that "two heads might be better than one," as often proved to be the case. "wake me up when you've found out the trouble, and rectified the same," said giraffe, pretending to stretch himself out over the seat, and make ready for a nap. just about three minutes later he had reason to change his mind. it was bumpus who did it, and if giraffe suddenly started up it was not because the other had been malicious enough to thrust a pin into his leg. "say, looky here what's bearing down on us, thad, will you?" the fat scout had called out, and giraffe was up on his feet like a flash. as he turned and looked back he saw something that was not apt to make him feel happy, to say the least. along the road came a swarm of women, boys and old men. they must have been recruited from the fields near by, for they were carrying all manner of pitchforks and such tools that looked dangerous when held in the hands of aroused tillers of the soil. whether the people of the farming country could have received word concerning the four boys in the old car, and meant to effect their arrest; or mistook them for some other parties who may have been disturbing the peace in that section of the country, thad and his chums were fated never to learn. it was quite enough for them to know just then a threatening cloud had appeared above the horizon, and that unless they could fortunately get a quick start out of that particular neighborhood they stood a good chance of finding themselves warmly beset. chapter vii. dodging trouble. "gee whiz!" burst out giraffe, of course using his favorite expression to denote his great astonishment; "why, they must be running to interview us, fellows! and say, i don't just like the way they're hollering one single bit. they even act as if they might be real mad!" "same old story," mumbled bumpus, sinking back into his seat with a look of sudden misery on his round face; "out of the frying pan into the fire. hardly off with one trouble before we're taking on a new one! what's the end going to be, i'd like to know?" "thad, how's it coming on?" asked practical allan, as he once more leaned over the hard-working mechanic, ready to lend a helping hand if possible, though only one could properly work at a time. "i think i'm getting it straight now," came the quick response that gave giraffe fresh cheer. "but it'll be too late in another five minutes," declared bumpus, trying to figure just how long it might take that oncoming crowd of german country people to arrive on the scene. "less than that, bumpus," said giraffe, better used to judging distances; "three would be the limit. are we intending to haul off and try to defend ourselves, or do we just throw up our hands and tell 'em we surrender? they're mostly women and old men, which accounts for 'em not getting over ground faster." "yes, but such women!" echoed bumpus; "every one looks like a regular amazon, because they're so used to working in the fields. besides, i don't like the way they handle those pitchforks they've been using to handle the hay with. it makes goose-flesh come up all over just to think of having the tines of a pitchfork stuck into me. guess we'd better call it off, and be good if they surround us." "it may all be a mistake, after all," said allan. "don't see how that could turn out," grumbled giraffe. "these honest people may be taking us for some other boys who have been pestering the life out of them," allan hastened to explain. "hope they find out the truth then before they start to prodding us with those old forks!" bumpus breathed. then silence fell upon them. thad was working furiously, while the other three held their breath in suspense, mingled faintly with the hope that died hard. the oncoming crowd was now quite close. their appearance became even more awe-inspiring as they drew nearer the scene; and their loud, angry cries did not soothe the nerves of the anxious scouts. bumpus was even fumbling in one of his pockets with the idea of taking out a supposed-to-be white handkerchief, and waving it, to indicate that they did not mean to resist the coming onslaught. just then thad gave a cry. "oh! have you got it, thad?" gasped bumpus. for answer the patrol leader slammed down the engine hood, and seizing hold of the crank gave it a whirl. there was no response! bumpus groaned fearfully. "all is lost!" he exclaimed in abject despair. thad made a second try, but with the same disappointing result. this time giraffe sank back in his seat, a look of resignation on his angular face. two bad turns was apparently his limit. it proved fortunate that thad was not constituted that way. he had known engines to require as many as half a dozen trials before they consented to be good and turn over. so thad went at it again, with even more energy than before. what a thrill passed over them all when with a roar the engine started in to make the old car quiver from end to end. bumpus and giraffe could not restrain their pent-up enthusiasm; their recent scare only added to the vim with which they gave a shout. thad made a leap into the front seat of the car. allan had already settled down to do the honors temporarily, for every second counted with that mob not thirty feet away. if the car was stalled five seconds longer it would be all up with the scouts. nothing so bad as that happened, for away they went with a jump, amidst the angry cries of the disappointed crowd. the country people did not mean to give up without further effort, for most of them continued to run. they must have seen that the car was an old and ramshackle one, and cherished hopes that they might yet overtake it. giraffe stood up and waved his campaign hat excitedly as he cheered in the good old american way. "bully for the machine!" was the burden of his cry; "she's actually doing her little five miles an hour, perhaps even more. say, this is getting too reckless for my blood. i forgot to take out any life insurance, thad, before starting on this break-neck trip. be careful, please, and don't spill us out!" soon they saw the last of their pursuers, and the road seemed to be clear in front. the boys of course began to chatter concerning this latest happening, trying to figure out what had caused this sudden and mysterious feeling of enmity on the part of the workers in the harvest fields. in the end, however, they had to give it up as an unsolved puzzle; nor did they ever learn the facts, since they came to that part of the german fatherland no more. allan consulted the little road chart which, before they started down the rhine on their wonderful cruise, had been purchased in mentz, principally to know the nature of the many sights that were to be met with along the historic banks of that famous river. "as near as i can make out, this is where we are right now, thad," he mentioned, making a pencil mark on the paper. "i know it from many reasons, and one of them is that fine old dutch windmill we just passed on the knoll. it's marked here, you can see, as if it had some historic connections." "you're right about that part of it, allan," said the scout leader after taking a quick glance at the chart, for his attention was needed at the wheel, since the progress of the car was inclined to be erratic; in fact, as giraffe had several times declared, "she did not mind her helm very well, which made their course a zigzag one." "well, how much further do we have to go before we get to the dutch line?" bumpus asked, with more or less concern; for every two minutes he had kept twisting around, almost putting his neck out of joint, with the idea of making sure that they were not being pursued. "i'm figuring what course we'll have to take in order to avoid several german towns that are marked here," returned allan. "that's right, we have no use for even the cleanest towns agoing just now," ventured giraffe, "though i'm getting pretty hungry, to tell you the truth." "that's cruel of you, mentioning it," spluttered bumpus, "when i've been fighting all the while to forget that i've got an awful aching void inside of me that's wanting to be filled the worst kind. but how far do we have to go, allan?" "not more than five miles more," came the answer. "that sounds encouraging, i must say," remarked thad; "if the cranky old thing holds out another half hour we might be on the border; and once across, our troubles will be done with for awhile anyhow." "then she must be making all of _ten_ miles an hour, thad!" exclaimed giraffe, pretending to be greatly excited; "why, i can feel my hair beginning to stand up with the nervous strain! it's the nearest approach to flying i ever expected to meet up with. if we have an accident when going like the wind they'll have to collect us in baskets. i'm going to hold on to bumpus here, let me tell you!" "what for?" demanded the fat scout, suspiciously. "oh! nothing much, only sometimes it's a mighty fine thing to have a good buffer when you meet up with trouble," said giraffe, calmly. "don't mind him, bumpus," said allan; "nothing is going to happen, for the motor seems to be on its best behavior. let's hope we'll find only a dutch guard on the road when we come to the border line." "i think that's apt to be the case," ventured thad. "so do i," added allan, "because the germans as yet couldn't be expected to care who left their country for holland; while the dutch would want to make sure there was no infringement of neutrality, no using their territory by one of the belligerents for passing around and taking the enemy by surprise. if either german, belgians, french or british soldiers happen to land on dutch soil they'll have to be interned there until the close of the war." "well, all i hope is that they won't include boy scouts in that class," ventured bumpus, whose sole thought those days was to reach antwerp and the suffering mother, who must be very anxious for her boy, knowing he was at the time in germany and doubtless caught in the mad whirl accompanying the mobilization of millions of troops. "they might if we were german scouts," thad told them, "but we can easily prove that we belong on the other side of the atlantic. i think they'll be pretty kind to us on that account, and do anything we might ask." "well," remarked giraffe, with a longing look in his eyes, "if we happened on a nice clean tavern over there it might pay us to stop and get a dutch dinner. i've heard a lot about what appetizing dishes those housewives can serve, and i'd like to say i'd eaten just _one_ meal in the netherlands." "count on me to vote with you, giraffe," observed bumpus, "though of course if it was going to delay us any i'd be willing to stand the famine till we got over in belgium, and had to put up for the night on account of darkness." "for that matter, we will have a moon about nine o'clock to-night," said thad, "but i'm afraid you'll have to excuse me from driving this crazy car over roads i don't know, by moonlight. it's bad enough in broad day." they continued to push steadily on. at no time were they out of sight of farms and gardens, all of them as neat as anything the boys had ever seen. they often remarked on the great difference between the thrift of these german market gardens and the ordinary shiftless way of doing things seen in their own country. "of course," allan said, in trying to excuse this want of neatness, "we have all sorts of people come over to us, and they bring their habits along with them. some are as careful about keeping their places clean as these germans, while others never knew a thing about thrift in the native lands, and have to be taught. but on the whole we seem to get along pretty well." "how goes the mad whirl now, allan?" asked giraffe. "not more than two miles away from the border, my map says," came the reply. "that sounds good to me," bumpus assured them, rubbing his hands together much as a miser is supposed to do when gloating over his gold; "huh! two little miles oughtn't to keep us long on the way." "not when you're navigating the roads in such a whiz-cart as this," chuckled giraffe, as he started to get partly out of his seat to look around him, so as to discover anything new worth calling his companions' attention to. "why, hello--we didn't make all that dust back there, did we?" the others heard him saying, as he shaded his hand to look, and then almost immediately went on to exclaim: "as sure as you live it's a little squad of horsemen, and they're coming along at a fast gallop! what's that they're holding so that the sun glints from the ends like it does when you use a glass in heliographing a message? boys, i do believe they must be lances!" "lances!" burst out bumpus, in sudden alarm; "why, that would mean they are the german rough riders they call the uhlans; and thad, if they're coming after us they'll overhaul this old pony go-cart as easy as falling off a log!" chapter viii. the country of windmills. of course everybody became tremendously excited; at least everybody but thad, who somehow seemed to be able to retain his coolness in the presence of peril better than any of his comrades. "there are four of them!" announced giraffe, immediately, "and they're digging their spurs into their nags for all that's out. i guess they know we're meaning to cross over into little old holland, and they want to nab us before we can get over the border line!" "they must have been sent after us by that smart officer we ran up against at that town; the one who turned us back, and threatened to arrest us!" allan remarked, this being the one explanation of the pursuit that flashed into his mind. "either that," added bumpus, "or else the chap who was on the ferry with us told of the meeting after he got to duren, and they sent out that squad with orders to bring us in, dead or alive!" thad was saying not a word. he seemed to be devoting all his attention to manipulating the old car so as to get every atom of speed out of it possible. besides, since its course was so erratic he had to be very careful how he steered, as even a slight blunder might mean a smash-up. thad had not even made the slightest attempt to look back and see their oncoming pursuers. he was content to take the word of his mates for it that they were making great headway, and closing in on them at a rapid rate. "this is getting mighty interesting, let me tell you!" exclaimed giraffe, as he twisted his long neck again and again in order to watch the rush of the cavalrymen, and then try to judge whether the car could gain an offing before being overhauled. "i can see what looks like the border post ahead there another mile!" allan now told them. that was indeed cheery news, and must have revived their drooping courage. still naturally giraffe immediately expressed a desire to know on what sort of foundation allan fixed his assertion. "what makes you think it's the crossing where we strike holland?" he demanded. "because i can see soldiers in uniforms, and they don't happen to be the gray kind we've seen most germans wear, either. yes, and they've got what looks like high-peaked caps, which i've read the dutch troops use." "bully!" exclaimed bumpus, and the others knew he must be greatly worked up, for as a rule bumpus never used words like this, leaving that to giraffe. "how are they doing now?" asked thad. "catching up hand over fist," replied giraffe. "it's going to be an open question whether they reach us before we cross the line, or not." "oh! i think we've got a good chance to slip over, unless something happens to our cranky old engine," allan asserted, for it was his nature to be sanguine, just as the tall scout could not help looking at the gloomy side of things as a rule. "now they're lashing their mounts like everything," reported giraffe; "and seems to me they do get more speed out of the horses." bumpus did not attempt to get up any more, so as to look. he had a firm grip on the side of the quivering car, and was staring ahead. perhaps he was trying to figure how happy he would be if only they could rush across that border line, and secure the protection of those dutch soldiers. they were drawing very close to the haven of refuge, so that it was easy for all of them to see the little squad of guardians stationed there to see that the strictest neutrality was maintained. while the netherlands might seem to be a small country, still she has an active army of some five hundred thousand soldiers, and history tells how bravely the dutch have always fought when their country was invaded. germany would not want to have such a foe on her flank. besides, many of those harbors of holland would be extremely valuable to an allied navy seeking to strike at the heart of the gun foundry region of the fatherland. giraffe was becoming more excited than ever. he fairly quivered as he reported the lessening of the distance between the fleeing car and the pursuing horsemen. "faster! thad, give her all the juice you can! squeeze a little more speed out of the poor old thing, and we'll do it yet!" was the burden of his appeal. of course thad was trying everything he could to coax the motor to do just a little mite better. small things count at a time like this, and even the wobbling motion that the car continued to keep up as it ran was counting against them, more or less. but the race could not last long now. the dutch border guard had spread out, and seemed to be ready to do some threatening with their guns. "i only hope they don't mean to shoot at us," giraffe was heard to say when he noticed this; "if only we had a big enough flag for them to see they'd know we were americans, and friends. i wonder how it would do for me to shout out that word as we come up?" "it would do no harm, giraffe!" allan told him. accordingly the tall scout began to make frantic gestures as he stood there, trying to balance himself in the swaying car. he had an idea that he was using his arms to denote their peaceful intentions; but possibly the puzzled dutch soldiers might imagine him stark crazy. "americans! we're american boys!" he kept shouting. bumpus tried to pull him down. "they're shooting at us back there, giraffe!" he pleaded, "and you might get hit." it seemed that the uhlans were using their weapons, though when going at that wild pace they could not have had much hope of doing any execution, unless by some accident. a dozen seconds more of suspense followed, every one of which must have seemed an eternity to the fleeing scouts. then they reached the line of the dutch border guard and were thrilled to know they had actually left german soil behind them. thad immediately shut off power, and applied the brake, for he had seen that one of the guard made a motion easily interpreted. giraffe was dancing about in the car, though bumpus after having his toes trodden on several times promptly shoved him out. the uhlans had given up the pursuit. they evidently felt so chagrined over having failed to overhaul the fugitives that they would not even wait to exchange words with the dutch soldiers, but wheeling their horses started back along the dusty road. of course the dutch guard at once gathered around. giraffe wondered whether his poor command of german would serve him in this case as well as it had done under other conditions. he was saved from this anxiety, however, for the one who seemed to be in command of the post immediately addressed them in fair english. he must have taken his cue from the way giraffe shouted that word "american"; and then, now that they had come up, it was easy to see those miniature flags pinned on the lapels of the scouts' khaki coats. he proceeded to ask questions, and thad was only too well pleased to answer. the passports were shown, and seemed to satisfy the soldiers. there would be hundreds, yes thousands of non-combatants presently seeking an asylum on the neutral soil of holland; and those warm-hearted, hospitable people would show the world that they had no superiors when it came to holding out a helping hand to those in distress. "we have boy scouts over here in holland," the non-commissioned officer proudly told them; "and they have won the respect of the whole nation. only here in europe, you know, every boy has to look forward to serving the colors at some time in his life, so they all expect to be soldiers of the queen later on." "i hope you will not think it necessary to detain us, sergeant?" thad asked, after he felt sure they had made a good impression on the dutch. "please stretch a point if you can," pleaded bumpus, "for i am wild to get over in belgium where my poor sick mother is waiting for me." the soldier scratched his head as though a little puzzled. "we would know what to do if you were enlisted men of any country at war," he explained; "it would then be our duty to interne you until peace came. but orders have not been so clear about what to do if citizens of the united states choose to cross our country. i might hold you until you could communicate with your minister, dr. van dyke; or on the other hand i might just wash my hands of you, and let you go as you pleased." "oh! that's most kind of you, sir!" exclaimed bumpus, possibly meaning to help the soldier choose the latter course; "all we want to do is to cross over this neck of holland and enter belgium, so we can go around the fighting line without getting caught in the mess. thad, we'll never forget this kindness, will we?" it was really clever in bumpus to exert this species of flattery in order to gain his end. perhaps it did influence the dutch sergeant more or less, for he smiled amiably and offered his hand to bumpus. "get across as quickly as you can," he told them; "for my superior officer will be due here presently, and he might look at things in a different light from what i do. i spent several happy years in your country once, and then came back home to marry, and serve out my time in the army. good luck to you, young mynherr, and to all of you. that is all; you can go!" they lost no time in making a fresh start. the superior officer might happen to come along ahead of time, and spoil all their plans. it was with considerable satisfaction bumpus looked around him at the new sights that met their eyes as they passed across that narrow strip of territory belonging to holland, and which stretches down between the other two countries as if it were used as a convenient buffer, and for no other purpose. "there's a real dutch windmill, yes, and i can see some more of the same kind!" bumpus was telling them, pointing excitedly as he spoke. "oh! they're as common as dirt, you'll find," allan told him. "they not only pump water but are used for a great many other purposes. a dutchman would almost as soon think of doing without his vrouw as his windmill." "given half an hour, and if this road isn't too wobbly we ought to be at the belgian frontier," thad announced. "we've carried everything by storm so far," said giraffe, exultantly; "and there's some hope we may get to antwerp. if the germans over the line couldn't hold us in check we oughtn't to be much afraid that the belgians will try to detain us." "i wonder now if that can be an inn we see ahead there?" suggested bumpus, with a most intense longing look on his face as he shaded his eyes with one hand the better to see. "it looks like some sort of a road-house," thad ventured. "yes," added giraffe, almost as eagerly as the fat scout, "and i can see what must be a swinging sign hanging there. thad, hadn't we better take a chance, and say we've tasted one meal in holland?" "what about you, allan?" asked the patrol leader. "i think i could tackle any sort of stuff just about now. we had an early breakfast on the boat, you know, and it's now getting along in the afternoon. i'm willing to try most anything once." thad laughed. "i guess that settles the question," he told them. "then we stop over, do we?" demanded bumpus. "three against one would carry the day, because scouts believe in majority ruling," said thad; "and to tell you the truth, i'm pretty savage myself for something to eat. so we'll pull up, and see what they can give us at this hour." chapter ix. at a wayside belgian inn. "it looks all right to me, fellows!" remarked bumpus, as they approached the inn where a swinging sign announced that travelers and their animals could be entertained. "yes, and if the grub is as attractive as the surroundings," added giraffe, "i'd wish it was night time right now, so we could put up here. i've heard how neat as wax these dutch vrouws are about their beds and food, and it'd sure suit me to try the thing out. but of course, since bumpus here is in such a hurry to get to antwerp, we couldn't think of that." "you don't blame me, i feel sure, giraffe?" mentioned bumpus, with a vein of mild reproach in his mellow voice. "sure not," instantly replied the tall scout, for he felt that those blue eyes of his chum were filled with surprise; "i'll do everything i can to help get you there in a rush, even to going hungry if i have to." "oh! we haven't come to the starvation point yet, i hope," the red-haired chum told him, as the car stopped in front of the road-house, and all of them clambered out. giraffe patted the seat as he left it. "after all, you've turned out to be a heap better than you look, old stick-in-the-mud car," he said, meaning it as a compliment; "appearances are often deceptive, and in the pinch you didn't fail us." "we ought to be thankful for that," said thad. "i know my heart seemed to be up in my throat more than a few times when we were making that last mile of the mad race. i thought sure the engine would give up the ghost with a groan, and leave us there stranded on the road to be taken prisoners by those uhlans." "oh! we're the lucky bunch, take it from me," said giraffe; "but here comes mine host, smiling all over at the honor we do his house to stop our elegant car before the door. i'll try him in my best teutonic first; but i hope he can understand united states dutch like our friend back at the border post." the landlord joined them. he wore a long white apron, and had a clean look that impressed all of the boys immensely. his face was as rosy red as health and good living could make it. it turned out that, while his english was faulty, he could understand the language fairly well, and that was the main thing. when the boys explained to him that they were hungry, and hoped he could get them up some sort of a dinner, he readily promised to do the best he could, though of course, he explained, it was long after the usual hour for dining. so they found a way to wash up, and then sat on the broad porch resting while awaiting the call to dinner. their car attracted more or less attention; but giraffe was of the opinion this was because of its dilapidated appearance more than anything else. "i'd hate to be seen driving such a wreck over around cranford," he remarked, "but here it was a case of take it or leave it, and there you are." "just you go slow about running that machine down," warned bumpus, shaking his head threateningly; "it's served us a noble purpose, let me tell you. think of all the tiresome tramping we'd have been forced to do only for our great luck in picking up this vehicle." "yes," said allan, "we'll never know, i suppose, where that man got it, or whether we bought a stolen car; but it stood the racket splendidly, and we won the day against the crack horses of the german cavalry." just then the urbane landlord came to announce that dinner was served, and there was a hasty exodus from that porch. the boys had sharp appetites, and everything tasted just right, for there is no better sauce to any meal than hunger. "if this is only a picked-up dinner," said bumpus, as he sighed and shook his head when thad asked him to have a fourth helping, "i'd like to sit down to one of the regular ones, just to see what it would be like." "all through?" asked thad. "if you are, i'll settle the bill, after which we'll cut for the western border line. we ought to get over a few belgian miles before night comes on." even the thought of finding themselves on belgian soil thrilled the scouts. it was easy to understand why this should be so. there the two armies were fast in a death grapple, with the germans doing the assaulting, and the heroic forces of king albert trying to delay the passage of the invading hosts across their land as much as was possible. the mere idea of being close to a battlefield was enough to fill their boyish hearts with eager anticipations, for without experience along these lines they could not as yet realize the horrors of war. the settlement proved to be an easy one. this dutch landlord at least had not learned the tricks of his trade, so far as overcharging travelers was concerned, for his prices were exceedingly moderate. when once more they found themselves on the road, and headed into the west, the boys began to discount their arrival at the other border line. "of course we'll run smack up against more dutch soldiers on guard there," said allan; "because by now they'll be mobilizing all their forces, so as to be ready if they have to enter the war to preserve their country. you've often heard of dutch courage, and they do say these smiling soldiers don't know what fear is." "let's hope that this road across into belgium isn't guarded as yet," ventured giraffe, "or else that they'll be glad to get rid of us." it was not a great while later that they discovered a white post alongside the road. there had been one just like it back where they came over from the country of the rhine, and from this they judged they had arrived at the dividing line. several soldiers now appeared, attracted by the noise made by the exhaust of the car, for the muffler worked poorly even when used. "they're giving us the high sign to pull up, thad," announced giraffe, as the dutch guards were seen to make motions. some difficulty was experienced on this occasion, for none of the dutchmen could speak any english. giraffe worked hard to explain just who they were, and how they simply wanted to be allowed to cross over into belgium on a peaceful errand. bumpus hung on his words, and looked so appealingly at the puzzled guards that it could be easily seen he hoped there would not be any miserable delay. by dint of extravagant gestures, displaying the little flags on their coats, saying the word "american" lots of times, then "antwerp," and finally pointing toward the southwest, in the end giraffe seemingly managed to convince them that all the boys in the old car wished was to be let alone, and continue their journey. finally one of the guards nodded his head, shrugged his shoulders, spoke to his companions, and after about ten minutes' delay they stepped aside, as if to signify that the way was clear, and they would not interpose any further objection to the boys going on. "hurrah!" cried giraffe, as he settled back in his seat, "get her moving, thad, before they wake up and change their minds! i kind of think i mesmerized that big chap some. he looks half dazed still." "i think you must have talked such a mixture of german and american that he began to think we were all crazy," laughed allan; "but no matter, we're thankful for even small favors." "why," said bumpus, who was vastly relieved by this sudden change for the better in their fortunes, "as for me, i'd be willing to be looked on as demented if only it carried the day for my plans. we're across the line, thad, wouldn't you say?" "no doubt about that, bumpus." "and this is really belgium we're running over?" continued the delighted stout scout. "yes, really and truly," giraffe told him; "but it looks as like holland as two peas in a pod. if it wasn't for the dutch guard, and the white border post, none of us would ever know we'd changed countries." after that they continued to forge ahead at a fair pace as the balance of the afternoon slipped away. once the engine chose to balk, which necessitated an overhauling on the part of thad and allan. happily the trouble was again located and rectified, so that they did not lose a great deal of time. "there's one thing sure, thad," said giraffe, who had been prowling around while the repair work was going on, looking into a number of things; "we couldn't think of going much more than another hour." "gas tank getting low, is it?" asked the other, who had seen giraffe meddling in that quarter, and could make a good guess as to what discoveries he had run upon. "just what it is," replied giraffe; "about enough juice to do us till we want to stop for the night. we must manage to buy ten gallons or so in the morning, no matter what they ask for their old petrol, as they call it over here." "there, you see how obliging a car we've happened on," said bumpus. "it holds out till we get ready to stop over, and then asks for a fresh supply. i think this must be a french make of car, it's so very polite." "yes, just so," said giraffe; "do you know, i've been suspecting for some time it was swearing in french every time it groaned and grunted when thad was driving the engine so hard." the next hour passed and once again fortune seemed to favor the boys, for just as the sun was about to sink out of sight they came to a village where they discovered a quaint-looking inn. when they found that there was plenty of room, and that they could be supplied with a supper and a breakfast, the boys asked for nothing better. the car was taken into a sort of barn, where cattle were munching their feed, and left there. as before thad and his chums managed to find the pump, and washed up the best way possible, after which they sat around in the taproom, waiting for the welcome call to the table. there were a number of men over by the bar, where they talked in their own language, which of course the boys could not understand. but giraffe seemed to think one of the natives took an unusual amount of interest in the new arrivals, since he looked their way again and again, and called the attention of another fellow to the wearers of the khaki uniforms. of course, it might be that the possession of these same garments had aroused the curiosity of the man; but giraffe fancied he had a sinister look on his face, and being possessed of a suspicious nature, the boy actually got up and sauntered over to the door, after he saw the party go out. looking that way, presently thad discovered that giraffe had actually vanished. "i hope now he doesn't get himself in any scrape," thad told the others, for he knew only too well the impetuous nature of the boy with the long neck. allan and bumpus did not think there was any reason for fearing such a thing. according to their way of looking at it, everything seemed peaceful, and giraffe was acting foolish in entertaining any suspicions. about five minutes later, with supper as yet not placed on the table, giraffe entered the room about as silently as he had left it a while before. he hurried over to where his three chums were lounging, and they began to rouse themselves at noticing an expression of excitement on the other's face. "what's wrong now?" asked thad, just as though giraffe could always be looked on as the bearer of bad news. "i told you so," came the answer; "that fellow with the sneaky eyes is a bad egg, and he means to do us trick or i miss my guess." "are you only saying that in a general way, or do you know something?" asked the scout leader, in the voice he used when giving orders to the troop in place of dr. philander hobbs, the real scout master, who was often absent when the boys were enjoying an outing in camp or on the trail. "i followed him outside," continued giraffe, sinking his voice to a mysterious whisper, "and saw him talking with some other tough-looking fellows; and, let me tell you, they acted mighty suspicious." chapter x. the throb in the night breeze. thad may have thought that, up to this point, giraffe was allowing his suspicions to overcome his better judgment; but he now saw the other was unusually serious. so the scout leader considered it wise to ask a few questions. "how many others did he talk to, giraffe?" was what he first wanted to know. "there were two, all told," came the answer; "i think one was that fellow with the coarse laugh, and the other may have been the man almost as broad as he was long, and who made our bumpus here look like a baby." "huh!" grunted the party referred to, "i always told you i wasn't such great shakes when it came to topping the scales; but you've got us interested, giraffe, so give us the whole story while you're about it, please." "did they only get their heads together and talk?" thad continued. "oh! that was just the beginning," admitted giraffe; "and if it stopped there, how would i know that they were bothering themselves about a party of boys who had dropped in to spend the night? it was what they did that gave them away." "tell us about it, then," said thad. "well, when i saw them making for the barn, i kind of suspected they meant to look over our car, and i slipped along after 'em. course my having been a scout helped me a lot to do that without giving myself away," and there was a vein of justifiable pride in the way the tall boy said this. "was it our car they looked over?" asked allan. "they were nosing all around it," replied giraffe, "when i glimpsed them through a knot-hole. would you believe it, that man with the crooked eye was lighting matches to let them see better. and they certainly did overhaul the car from stem to stern." "thad, it might be they thought we left something valuable in the car, such as a pair of expensive field-glasses, you know?" suggested bumpus, as though seized with a bright thought for once. the others waited to hear what the spy thought of that idea. giraffe, however, did not seem to consider it an answer to the riddle. "no," he said decisively; "they acted as if they were more concerned about the car itself, for they even tested to see whether there was any amount of petrol in the tank, and looked the engine over in the bargain." "then they want to make us an offer for the car in the morning?" bumpus once more advanced; "but i hope none of you'll feel tempted to part with it, while we're still so far away from antwerp." "they don't look as if they had pockets full of money," giraffe told him scornfully. "my idea was that they mean to steal the car some time during the night!" thad sat, and seemed to be turning it over in his mind. "do you mean for their own use, giraffe?" he asked finally. "no, if you ask me plainly, thad, i don't," the other admitted. "that's queer," muttered the fat scout, who would not stay squelched; "why do people go around taking cars if not for themselves, i'd like to know?" giraffe lowered his voice still more, and in consequence bumpus felt an additional thrill pass through him, it was all so mysterious. "for their government they might," he said. "how do we know but what these belgians are so patriotic they think it only right strangers should be made to contribute to the good of their army? they must have great need of every kind of motor conveyance just now, to bring up their troops. the german army has tens of thousands of big motor-trucks, we heard. well, they looked over our old car with the idea of running her off if it seemed worth while." "thad, do you take any stock in that idea?" asked allan, as though somewhat in doubt himself. "it might be possible," was the reply of the patrol leader. "but there's one thing i do know, and that is, no matter what they want our car for, they mustn't be allowed to take it!" "hear! hear!" said bumpus joyfully. "while we all feel sorry for poor little belgium, dragged into this terrible war when she hadn't done a single thing to bring it on, still we'll need that car ourselves for some time yet." "yes," added bumpus, "and, thad, for one i'm willing to turn the machine over to the belgians, such as it is, if they can make any sort of use of it, just as soon as we strike antwerp." "same here," added giraffe; "but i haven't quite told you all yet." "what, is there another chapter to the story?" asked bumpus, getting ready for a second edition of those thrills. "i watched them come away from the barn," continued giraffe; "though of course they didn't know anybody was around. they walked along the road a bit, and i saw them stop to speak to another man. and, thad, he was a soldier!" "is that a fact?" remarked the other, deeply interested of course. "he wore the uniform of an officer, i want you to understand!" giraffe added; "and that's the main reason why i think they mean to steal the car for the use of the government. perhaps they haven't just got to the point here of taking anything they see in sight, like the germans are doing, we were told." "there's the call to supper," said bumpus, struggling to his feet with considerable difficulty. "what's the last word about this business, thad?" "just this," he was told, "we're going to try and protect that car to-night, if we have to camp out there in the hay and guard it." "second the motion!" said giraffe, with all the vim he was capable of showing, for he dearly loved excitement and action. "now, don't say another word about it while we're eating," warned thad. "there may be people at the table or nearby who could understand english. we'll talk of other things we've met with in the past. there are heaps of incidents that might be worth while bringing up again, you know." "i should say there were," admitted giraffe; "fellows who have hit the trail down in the blue ridge mountains of north carolina; tramped and camped up in the pine woods of maine; had a summer cruise through the lake superior region; spent a time down in the swamps of the sunny south; and even hunted big game away out among the rocky mountains, shouldn't find it hard to rake up things to talk about, it strikes me." the meal passed off pleasantly enough. there was plenty to eat, and all cooked in a way that satisfied their boyish tastes. at the table were several other people, but as they conversed in flemish and the boys did not understand much of what was said, they made no attempt to enter into the general talk. after eating all they wanted, they left the table and sought the outside of the inn. it was quite dark by now. at giraffe's suggestion they sauntered over to what he called the "barn" to make sure the car was all right. thad happened to have a small pocket electric flash-light with him, which he found very valuable at various times when a means for illuminating was required. making use of this he detached the spark-plug, and thus rendered the car useless until another could be obtained capable of filling the gap. "that might keep them from stealing the car," he observed, "and again it wouldn't. even if i had a chain, and locked the wheels, they could file it off, given a little time. so on the whole i think we'll have to camp out here. the night's warm, and it won't be the first time all of us have hit the hay actually." "but we'd have to let the landlord know," suggested allan. "i'll do my best to tell him privately, if you say so," declared giraffe. "at the same time find out what our bill is and we'll pay in advance," said thad. "what's the idea in doing that?" bumpus wanted to know. "just to let him understand we haven't any intention of slipping off, and beating him out of an account," explained the other. "and, giraffe, another thing you can do; that is, if you are able to tackle it." "tell me," said the other simply, just as a missourian might say, "show me!" "give him to understand that we're armed, and would defend our property to the last gasp," was the astonishing declaration thad made, though he could be heard chuckling at the same time, as though himself more or less amused. "but we're not, thad, you know; we haven't got more than pocket knives along with us this trip. even those we used aboard the boat we packed up with the other junk, to be sent across to america when we wrote to that boatyard man." it was bumpus who made this protest; the others understood that thad must have some sort of little scheme of his own which he intended to make use of; so they only waited to hear its nature. "we'll find some of the tools to handle," he told them, "and in the half dark even a monkey wrench, if you know how, can be made to look like a revolver, especially if you click! click! when aiming the same!" "that's right," was the comment of giraffe; "for i've seen the game worked myself, and to tell the truth had my knees knocking together as if i had the ague till the chap who was giving me the grand scare had to laugh outright, and broke the game up." "well, we might as well go back and sit on that porch till we feel sleepy. then giraffe can tackle the landlord and have it out with him." thad's suggestion appeared to strike them all favorably, and it was not long afterward when they settled down to making themselves as comfortable as possible. there was more or less conversation, though gaps came between, for the boys found themselves rather tired. they had not slept as well during the last night or two as they might, owing to numerous things, worries of the mind more than of the body. "i'm wondering what that queer far-off throbbing sound can be?" giraffe happened to mention all at once; "i've been hearing it for some time, and it comes as regular as a clock, once in so many minutes." "and i've been listening to the same," admitted thad. "then perhaps you can give us an idea what causes it?" asked bumpus, after he too had caught the odd sound, the like of which they could not remember ever having heard before. "i believe it's the discharge of a monster siege gun!" was thad's startling declaration, which of course provoked a series of outcries. "do you mean away over at liége, where we've been told the germans are trying to batter down the conical-top steel forts by dropping monster shells on them from points miles away?" allan asked in a hushed voice, as though thrilled by the thought. thad went on to say that he could not think of any other reason for the strange sounds. he also told them to notice that some of the men they had seen inside the inn had come out, and seemed to be listening to the sounds as if they had a sinister meaning to them. it was indeed a strange experience for the scouts. they had been in contact with a great many remarkable happenings in the past few years, especially since the troop had been organized at cranford; but never had they expected to be sitting and listening to the deep-throated throb of giant guns engaged in a terrible battle of opposing armies. although they tried to picture the stirring scene, of course it was utterly beyond their capacity; for no one who has not looked on a battle can imagine what it is like. giraffe even had the nerve to express a wish that some time or other he might be privileged to see what a modern engagement was like; but of course it was only a thoughtless boyish desire. before he was through with this journey over the war trails of belgium possibly he would regret having ever made such a remark; for there might be some things come into his experience that he would be glad to forget. long they sat there in the warm night air, listening to the sounds that came, now faintly, and anon in a louder key, according to the character of the breeze that wafted them to their ears. then thad, seeing that bumpus had allowed his head to fall forward on his chest, told giraffe he had better seek the landlord and sound him on the scheme of their sleeping in the hay-mow within the barn. chapter xi. warned off. "i've been thinking it all over," said giraffe, "and i've got it arranged. you know our landlord isn't much on the american lingo, and i expect to have some little trouble making him understand; but i'm getting my hand in at this interpreter business, and i'll make it or bust the boiler trying." "don't forget," cautioned the patrol leader, "to give him to understand that we love the fresh air, and really prefer to sleep in the open, being scouts. yes, and you can hint at the same time that it would be a serious thing for any rascals if they tried to steal our car." "do you suspect the landlord knows anything about the raid, if there is going to be one?" asked giraffe. "perhaps he doesn't," thad told him, "but there's no harm giving him that hint; he may manage to push it along and save us some excitement." "huh! that doesn't bother me any," remarked the other disdainfully; "you know i live on excitement. but i'll try and do all you say, thad." he was gone some time, almost twenty minutes, and when he once more appeared on the porch it was with his arms full of blankets. bumpus was sound asleep in his chair and breathing as peacefully as though safe at home in his own bed. "gee! but i'm weak," said giraffe, sinking down in a seat, the blankets being dropped to the floor. "oh! it isn't because of the heft of those coverings, you know, but the way i had to work to get that old innkeeper to understand. when he did finally get it through his head he was as nice as pie about it--insisted on getting four clean blankets for us, and hoped we'd have a pleasant night." "then that part is settled," remarked hugh. "he took the money, of course?" "sure thing, thad. did you ever hear of one of his kind shoving any cold cash aside when it was offered to him?" "did he act as if he felt disappointed at our wanting to stand guard over our old car?" asked allan. "why, he tried to tell me that people were very honest around this place, and never even fasten their doors. fact is, you can't find a lock in the inn, only a hook to keep the doors from flying open. but i must say i couldn't see any sign of his being upset by our action." "then i reckon he doesn't know the plan of those men, if they do really intend to try and run the car off," thad concluded. giraffe yawned. "i tell you, i'm as sleepy as they make 'em," he remarked. "suppose we trek over to the barn and get busy. me for the hay." "there's bumpus here to be looked after," suggested allan. "he looks so happy it's a pity to wake him up," said thad; "but of course we couldn't think of leaving him here on the porch all night." he shook bumpus gently as he said this. the fat boy gave a grunt, but beyond this there was no sign of life about him. "wake up, bumpus!" said thad, giving him a little rougher treatment. "oh! leave me alone, can't you?" grumbled the other; "'tain't mornin' yet. when the coffee's ready i'll climb out, i tell you. leave me be!" bumpus evidently imagined that he was in camp somewhere, with some of his chums bent on routing him out at an unearthly early hour. thad this time gave him so sturdy a shake that bumpus began to sit up and rub his eyes. "hey! what's all this, anyway? where am i at? i was dreaming that----" he commenced, when the impatient giraffe interrupted him. "never mind what you were dreaming, bumpus; we're going out to the barn to sleep, and, unless you want to be left alone here on the inn porch the rest of the night, hump yourself and trot along with us. i've got a blanket here for you, see?" of course bumpus stirred himself at that. he quickly realized he was indeed far away from the dearly beloved camp up on silver fox island in omega lake, near his home town of cranford. once out at the so-called barn they began their simple preparations for sleeping in the hay. the moon had arisen and flooded the world with light on that august night. everything looked so peaceful and lovely that thad found it hard to believe tens of thousands of human beings were engaged in a terrible and sanguinary battle only a comparatively few miles away from that spot. still, whenever he listened carefully, and the night wind happened to be just right, it was easy for him to hear that uneasy grumbling which he knew must come from the fighting line, where the germans were battering the steel fortresses at liége day and night. with the supply of petrol down to the last dregs, and a section of the necessary working parts of the engine secreted, it would seem as though thieves might have some trouble in carrying the car off, even if they came to the barn. but thad did not mean to take any chances. when each of them had been apportioned his bed in the hay, within touch of one another, thad gave a few last instructions. it was understood that no one was to do anything to betray their presence until thad uttered the signal. even bumpus had it sternly impressed on his mind that if he felt a hand shaking him he was to simply hold his breath and lie quiet, waiting for the next move. thad's little electric torch came in very handy in selecting their sleeping quarters, though he did not use it more than was necessary. finally all settled down to get what sleep they could. bumpus had been forced to lie on his side so that he might not make any of those queer snorting sounds which so often amused his fellow-campers, and frequently excited their ire in the bargain. thad, being a light sleeper, expected to be aroused should any one open the door. the sudden influx of moonlight was calculated to accomplish this, but he did not depend on that alone. having found a small, empty tin can, he fixed it so there would be something doing in case the door moved, enough noise made to arouse him, whereupon he could touch each of the others. some time must have passed before thad was awakened by this same small clatter. he felt allan move on one side of him, showing that the second leader of the silver fox patrol was on the alert. "give giraffe a shake, allan!" he whispered in the other's ear. "it's all right, for he kicked me just then!" replied the other, in the same cautious tone. it only remained to arouse bumpus. thad would have let the fat scout sleep right along, only he was afraid his heavy breathing might awaken suspicion, and lead to an investigation before they were ready to spring their surprise. for once bumpus proved to be on his guard when thad bending over shook him, and at the same time whispered in his ear: "wake up, bumpus, and keep as still as a mouse!" they lay there, hardly daring to breathe, for all of them could tell that some one was opening the wide doors of the barn, since the moonlight began to flood the interior. it was quite thrilling for the boys to be lying there straining their eyes so as to see to advantage. dark figures flitted in through the opening. they could hear low-muttered words, and might have understood what the intruders were saying only that none of the scouts happened to be up in the flemish language, which was like so much greek to them. but from the fact that the prowlers immediately gathered around the car and seemed to be once more examining the same, it was easy to understand their motives at any rate. thad waited to make sure that their night visit might not have been caused by some other motive than a desire to steal the property of himself and chums. when after considerable fussing around he saw that the men were actually starting to push the car outside, he knew it was folly to hold back any longer. so thad gave the signal. the other three had doubtless been waiting, like hounds held in the leash, for the call to arms. instantly allan and giraffe sprang erect, while poor, clumsy bumpus, trying to be exceptionally swift, got his feet entangled and actually rolled out into full view. thad instantly turned his torch upon the astounded schemers. the intensity of that white glow must have done much to demoralize them. if anything more were needed, it was supplied when the three figures extended their right hands and seemed to be covering the intruders with what looked like dangerous pistols. "get out of this, you rascals, or we'll open fire, and shoot you down like dogs!" thad shouted, and the whole three of them waved their weapons in a most suggestive manner that could not well be mistaken. it is of course doubtful whether those fellows understood a single word of that dreadful threat. they did know, however, that they were caught nicely in the act of stealing other people's property, and that safety could only be secured by a hasty departure. it was surprising the way in which they vanished through the open doors. even the big man mentioned by giraffe as being equal to three of bumpus seemed to slip away as if on wings of fear. so the four scouts were left to shake hands with each other over their great victory. "it was almost too easy," said giraffe, who seemed disappointed because he had not been able to get in a single blow. still thad said they should be satisfied with having chased the thieves off, and in this fashion saved their property. he fastened the doors again, set his tin-can trap, and told the others he was going to finish his sleep out, as he did not fear any further annoyance. in fact, the balance of that night passed without anything happening to arouse the four chums. morning found them ready for breakfast, and congratulating each other on the success of their little game. "we'd be out a car, such as it is, this morning," asserted allan, "if we hadn't camped out here." "don't suppose we'll ever know just what they meant to do with her," suggested bumpus; "and we don't care much, either. when a fellow's been robbed it doesn't matter to him what becomes of the stuff. but seems to me i smell cooking going on." that was enough to excite bumpus, and giraffe as well. they were soon enjoying a hearty breakfast, and as the landlord asked no questions they did not think it worth while to tell him about the night alarm. the next problem was to secure a supply of petrol. while there was no scarcity of the fluid as yet, still every one who owned any seemed to suspect that the time was near at hand when it would become very valuable, especially if german raiders overran this part of belgium, and commandeered every gallon they could discover. upon asking the landlord he put them on the track, and in the end they were able to purchase just five gallons, at about three times the usual price. still this would enable them to make a start, and there was always hope that they could pick up a further supply as they went along, even if it had to be in driblets, a gallon here and another there, to eke out. leaving the roadside inn, the boys were feeling in fairly high spirits, especially giraffe, who declared that with such luck on their side they were bound to get to antwerp some way or other, sooner or later. "i tell you we're just bound to do it," he said, with spirit, as they moved along the road, "and if all other channels are blocked, what's to hinder us backing up again and crossing the border into holland? we could make our way to rotterdam, and there take a small boat through the inside passages to the schelde river, so as to get to antwerp all right. so keep that in your mind, bumpus--when the silver fox boys settle on doing a thing it has to come, that's all!" chapter xii. the penalty of meddling. "the thing that's bothering me," said bumpus, a little later on, "is this. if the military in belgium here are so hard up for cars that they'd even think to take such a tough-looking machine as this, how are we ever going to keep hold of the same, somebody tell me?" "we'll do the best we know how," thad informed him. "for one thing, every time we chance to run across any belgian soldiers i intend to coax the engine to puff and groan the worst you ever heard. it'll help discourage envy on their part. we'll act as though it's stalled every twenty feet, and that we're having a dickens of a time with it." that idea amused giraffe, who laughed heartily. "it certainly does take you to get up some of the smartest games going, thad," he ventured; "and i guess now that'd be the best dodge to save our palatial car from being commandeered by the army. when they see what a cantankerous mule it is, they'll ask to be excused from trying to bother with such a kicker." perhaps the car understood what they were discussing. at any rate, it proved to be most accommodating, and tried to give them as good an excuse for calling it hard names as it could. at the very next rise it refused to work its passage and only for thad's expertness in backing into a gully they might have had a wild return ride down the grade, with a fair chance for an upset. "hey! look at that, will you?" puffed bumpus, after half tumbling from the car, when the others jumped nimbly out; "now we _are_ up against it good and hard. if the poor old tramp refuses to make the climb, however are we to get over the rise?" "take off your coat, bumpus," thad told him. "oh! do we have to really _push_?" asked the fat scout, looking at the balance of the hill, and scratching his head in a manner that told how little he enjoyed the prospect ahead. "it's the only way," giraffe explained, "unless we want to leave the car here, and continue our long journey afoot!" that caused bumpus to get out of his coat hastily. "anything but that!" he declared. "and when you get me started at a thing i guess i can do my share, all right." he proved as good as his word, because bumpus was strong, even if he seldom cared to exert himself, on account of indolence. when four husky, well-grown boys get busy, with their shoulders against a vehicle that has balked on a rise, they are able to accomplish a good deal. there were several things in their favor. in the first place, the car was far from being a very heavy one; then the hill did not have a steep grade; and they were half way up when the engine refused to do its duty; besides, they could rest several times by allowing the car to back into the gully again. bumpus did his full share of the work, though with many a grunt. in the end they reached the top and then got aboard, after thad had made sure the engine would do its duty again. "now for a good, long coast down-grade," said bumpus, as though that pleasure would pay up in part for his recent labor; as he expressed it himself, "it helped take the bitter taste out of a fellow's mouth, anyhow." "what were you limping about the last part of the way, bumpus?" asked allan, as they continued their journey, after reaching level ground again. "guess i must have worked too hard," explained the other, with a grin, "because it seemed just like i'd strained my muscles some way. feels some sore at that, and it's lucky i don't have to do any walking about now." "thad, what would you call that thing away off yonder? sometimes it disappears in among the fleecy clouds, and then comes out again. from here it makes me think of one of those big buzzards we used to watch soaring ever so high up, while we were down in louisiana." thad gave a steady look. "it's an aeroplane!" he told them positively. allan had apparently come to the same conclusion himself, for he instantly echoed the assertion of the patrol leader. "no hawk about that, or buzzard either, if they have such things over here in belgium," he said. "see, there's another of the same kind further on. they must be german taube machines, and are being used to spy on the positions of the belgian forces down below." all of them looked and wondered, as was quite natural, for although they had of course seen aeroplanes maneuver many times at county fairs and other places, this was their first experience at watching the evolutions of war machines doing scout duty. "you see how valuable they are going to be in this war," thad remarked. "from a safe position thousands of feet above, the aviator can see every movement of troops, note the coming of reinforcements, take stock of the position of every battery of big guns, and by a code of signals inform his side just how to direct their fire in order to do the most execution." "whew! it's wonderful when you come to think of it," giraffe exclaimed, with a whistle to indicate the state of his feelings; "and i can see how an up-to-date war with such a country as germany is bound to give the world heaps of surprises and thrills." "just stop and consider," said allan, still gazing at the far-away soaring objects among the light clouds, "what those chaps are seeing as they sail around up there. it must be a wonderful spectacle, and i'd give a lot to be up there half an hour or so." "but it must be dangerous work at that, i'd think," observed bumpus. "all aeroplane work is," admitted giraffe, "and if you once started to take a drop it'd be the end. you'd never know what had happened; but, say, i'd pity the poor fellow underneath when _you_ landed, bumpus!" "i didn't mean that, giraffe," expostulated the other; "don't you suppose now if those are german airships the belgians must be cracking away at them with their guns and trying to bring them down?" "they'd be silly not to, bumpus," replied giraffe, "and if we only had a glass along the chances are you'd be able to see some of the bombs or shrapnel exploding up there. but it's hard to hit such a moving target, and besides i reckon the pilots fly high enough to be well out of range." since leaving the roadside inn they had covered quite a few miles, with nothing out of the way happening, except that little trouble on the slope of the hill. thad had studied the little chart he carried with him, and tried to lay out a route which he hoped would carry them beyond the danger line. he understood that the invaders must be stretching out toward the west so as to control that section of country. there was a chance that at any time the boys might meet with a raiding band of rough-riders connected with the german army; but he hoped this would not happen, for it was likely to spoil all their plans and set them back. "why, this is getting too sleepy for anything," giraffe was complaining finally. "we don't even have any housewife rush out and threaten us for running over her dog, or killing a poor old hen. why, even the ducks can waddle out of reach of our slow-poke car. it makes me feel like i'm going to a funeral." "you're the same old giraffe," declared bumpus, chuckling, "always finding fault. now the only thing that makes me sad is because i never yet had a chance to show what i know about driving a car. i took three lessons last spring, and later on thad might let me spell him some." "i'll get out first, if ever you do!" vowed giraffe; "i don't care to be splashed up against a wall, or hoisted twenty feet up in the branches of a tree, to hang there with my head down. and i don't think thad's reckless enough to take chances with such a green driver. bad enough as it is, with a wobbly car." bumpus did not answer, but there was an aggrieved look on his round face, which would indicate he did not agree with giraffe at all, and still considered that he might be trusted. the sun, being well up, was beginning to prove pretty warm, so that it was not surprising to hear giraffe express a desire for a cool drink. "since such things as road-houses seem to be as scarce as hens' teeth along here, and you can't expect to get any soda or sarsaparilla, suppose we keep an eye out for a spring, and call a halt to water our dusty throats?" everybody seemed willing, and bumpus even went to the trouble to produce an old well-battered tin cup he had picked up somewhere, as he remarked: "and if you do run across a spring, giraffe, please fetch me that full of nice cold water, will you? my leg still pains me, and i'd better not get out. i hate to give any one trouble, but it's a case of necessity. get your fill first, and fetch mine when you come back to the car. you were always a good friend of mine, giraffe." "no trouble at all," the other told him; "but first catch your rabbit before you start cooking the same. we have yet to find the spring. here, stop making such faces, bumpus; i know your throat is full of dust, but you can't hurry things that way, for even two swallows don't make a spring!" bumpus pretended to feel faint after hearing that, but recovered almost magically upon hearing thad say he believed he saw what they were looking for up ahead. "these belgian country people are always thinking of others," he said, "and they mark a spring near the road with a white stone so passers-by can know it." "yes," added allan, "and ten chances to one we'll find it as neat as wax, with some sort of a clean mug to drink out of." "i hope this isn't going to turn out a false clue, that's all," remarked giraffe, "because i've gone and got my mouth watering for a drink, and the disappointment might prove fatal to me." two minutes afterwards they halted. "yes, it is a spring, i do believe!" said giraffe, making one of his flying leaps out of the car. "here, you're forgetting all about my cup!" screeched bumpus, and of course the impatient one had to come back in order to keep his promise. the spring was at some little distance from the road, it being necessary to negotiate several fences before reaching the white stone marking the spot where the ice-cold water gurgled forth. "you were wise not to try the venture, if your leg pains you, bumpus!" allan called back; and the one left behind in the old car doubtless agreed with him there. giraffe was swallowing his second cup when the others arrived on the scene. he looked as though he might be enjoying himself hugely. "i'm on the water-wagon now!" he warbled, making way for them, and pointing to a stone mug that lay close by for the use of thirsty travelers. it was water that could hardly be excelled anywhere, and allan, filling the mug, insisted on thad drinking the contents. after that he dipped in for himself, while giraffe came along for his third helping. "one good turn deserves another!" he chuckled; "and it seems as if i never could get enough of this splendid stuff. i mustn't forget to fetch poor old bumpus his share, and if he wants more i'll have to trot back here and get---- hey! what's that mean, thad? the car's running away with bumpus, as sure as you're born!" the trio by the spring stared for a few seconds as though they thought they must be dreaming, for it seemed utterly impossible that such a thing should come to pass. and yet there was the car hurrying along the road, with the fat scout clutching the steering wheel, and looking half scared to death as he tried to keep from running into the gullies that lay to the right and to the left! chapter xiii. repentant bumpus. there was no mystery attached to it all, and thad understood the whole occurrence as soon as he saw the car moving down the road with bumpus in it. as usually happens, meddling was meeting with its customary reward. bumpus, as they very well knew, had long been desirous of learning how to run a motor car. of course his father, being at the head of the cranford bank, owned a big car, and had a chauffeur to run it; but he had issued positive orders that under no conditions was the boy to be allowed to ever handle the steering wheel. he knew bumpus, and his capacity for doing the wrong thing, and meant to take no chances of having a smash-up. boys are human. what is denied them they most of all yearn to possess. perhaps had bumpus never been restrained from trying to run a car, his first little accident would have ended his vaulting ambition. as it was, this desire fed on the fact that it was a forbidden luxury for him. when, therefore, thad and the other two scouts were making their way toward the spring, with the intention of satisfying their thirst, he found himself tempted to clamber awkwardly over into the front seat, so as to sit there, and grasping the steering wheel try to imagine himself a bold chauffeur. the engine was throbbing in restraint, and the trembling motion of the car gave bumpus an additional opportunity to believe himself it. how he ever came to do it no one ever knew. bumpus himself was so startled when he felt the car give a sudden leap forward that his wits almost left him. he always stoutly maintained that, so far as he could remember, he had done nothing at all to influence the start, but of course this was a mistake, for cars do not run away without some help. bumpus still gripped that wheel in a frenzied clutch. he stared hard at the road ahead, which to his excited fancy seemed to consist of a zigzag course as crooked as any wriggling snake he had ever watched. at one second it seemed as though he were headed for the gully on the right, and no sooner had he wildly given the wheel a turn than the car, in sheer ugliness, bumpus thought, started for the other side of the road. the ditch there did not look a bit more tempting to the greenhorn chauffeur, and so he would strive to avoid being overturned by a contrary whirl of the wheel. there he was going along at a rapid pace, with the crazy car making the most eccentric dives and plunges imaginable. "after him!" shouted thad. he feared for the car, but most of all he felt great concern for bumpus himself. with all his faults, the fat boy was a general favorite among his comrades of the cranford troop. in fact, everybody liked him on account of his sunny nature, his happy-go-lucky disposition, and his genial, child-like and bland smile. hardly had thad given this shout than all of them were on the go. they did not attempt to return to the road over the same course taken in reaching the wayside spring, but started along a diagonal line. this was to overcome the lead which the runaway car had already obtained. thad shouted out directions which if heard and understood by bumpus would have allowed him to bring the car to a sudden stop. perhaps in his excitement the boy who clutched the steering wheel could not make head or tail of what thad was calling. then again it may have been the rattle of the cranky old car prevented him from catching the tenor of the directions. in fact, as bumpus afterwards frankly confessed, it would have made little difference whether he heard and understood the order or not. he only had two hands, and they were both needed every second of the time to keep that wheel moving, and thus prevent an accident. the three scouts found many obstacles in their way from the spring to the road. they climbed fences with a surprising agility, and mounted a wall as though they were hounds coursing after a hare. the long-legged giraffe proved himself to be a trifle better than either of the others at this sort of thing, and consequently he came upon the road first. when thad and allan arrived he was some little distance along, running like a deer, and utterly regardless of the clouds of dust created by the eccentric motions of the reckless runaway car. thad was used to judging distances, and after making a rapid mental calculation he decided that, barring some accident, giraffe was sure to overtake the car before many minutes had passed. he only hoped they would come to no abrupt bend in the road, where the inexperienced chauffeur would lose what little command he now possessed over his refractory vehicle. of course, thad did not attempt to voice his opinion. he needed every atom of breath he could get in order to keep up that burst of speed; and, besides, in that choking dust it would have been folly to have opened his mouth. the car was doing as well as at any time since it came into their possession. perhaps it meant to show them that even a car may have feelings, and resent constant slurs. only for that zigzag motion, which consumed more or less time, giraffe might have found it a much more difficult thing to catch up with the runaway. more than once it seemed to thad that his heart was trying to crowd up into his throat and choke him. this came about whenever he saw bumpus make a more desperate lunge than usual and come within an ace of landing in the ditch, the car wrecked, and his own neck placed in extreme peril of being broken. as giraffe afterwards privately said, "there seems to be an especial little cherub aloft given the task of protecting children and fools"; and, if this were true, the angelic being had bumpus in charge on that wild run. now giraffe by dint of a spurt was close behind the car. thad still chasing after, with allan close beside him, waited in suspense to see how the tall comrade would manage. he knew just how he would act under similar conditions, and had enough faith in giraffe to believe he could do at least as well. they saw him lay hands on the rear of the car. then he seemed to make a mighty effort, and the next thing they knew he was clambering, scrambling, getting aboard any way at all, so that he accomplished his aim. no doubt he was also holding his peace so that poor, clumsy bumpus might not be still further "rattled" with the knowledge that help had arrived in his sore extremity. then all at once giraffe was seen to bend over and clutch the steering wheel. it was heartening to notice how quickly the car stopped that erratic wabbling, and settled down to doing a fairly straight run. no doubt giraffe was not telling bumpus just what he must do with his freed hands, for they saw the fat boy lean over, while the car began to run slower and slower until it came to a dead stop. then for the first time did thad allow himself to say a word. the relief from all that suspense was so great that he had to give expression to his satisfaction, which he did by gasping: "thank goodness, he did it--bully for giraffe!" "it sometimes pays to have _extra_ long legs!" was the characteristic remark made by allan, as they both ran on, though at a reduced pace. when they arrived at the now motionless car they found an extremely repentant bumpus awaiting them. "don't ask me how it happened, thad," he said sadly, "because i don't know. i was sitting there, turning the wheel this way and that, and trying to imagine how it felt to be a real chauffeur, when all at once she gave a snort and a kick, just like an army mule that feels the lash, and commenced to start whizzing along the road. oh! look at me, soaking wet with perspiration. whew! i've had a lesson i won't forget in a hurry. you don't catch me fooling with a buzz saw again in a hurry, i promise you." with such a contrite culprit owning up to his faults what could thad say? to scold bumpus seemed almost cruel, and besides, thad was feeling too well pleased over the successful outcome of the adventure to hurt the poor fellow's feelings any more than was absolutely necessary. giraffe was not quite so tenderhearted, though feeling flushed with satisfaction over his recent victory. "guess you know now why your dad wouldn't let you learn to run your big touring car at home, don't you, bumpus?" he jeered. "i'm beginning to think he knew a heap better than i did about it," admitted the humble bumpus. "it takes brains to run a car," asserted giraffe meaningly. "some people never should try it, because they get rattled at the least little thing out of the ordinary, and go all to pieces." bumpus heaved a great sigh; then one of his old-time smiles crept over his face, now white no longer on account of alarm. "well, i'm mighty glad i didn't quite do that, giraffe, by bringing up in the ditch, you know," he started to say. "gimme a little credit for escaping smashing things to splinters. and, giraffe, i want to say that i'm ever so much obliged to you for doing what you did. it was a noble deed, and there are few fellows who could have carried it out half as well as you." after that splendid compliment, of course there was no use of giraffe feeling hard toward the one who had just given them all such a scare. he smiled back at bumpus, and the subject was dropped, so far as finding fault or laying down the law went. "what shall we do now, thad?" asked allan. "we might go back again to where we were," suggested the other, with a curious look toward bumpus, which the other noticed, and understood. "what for, thad?" he demanded. "if you're meaning to let me get a drink, i refuse to allow it. i'm going dry, to make up in part for what i did. serves me right, and i'll get it rubbed in all the time i'm being half choked by the dust." thad saw he meant it, too, and knew that bumpus could be very stubborn when he wanted to. besides, perhaps it would be just as well for him to punish himself in this way, since the more he suffered the less likelihood there was of the incident being repeated. "just as you say, bumpus," he remarked, as he climbed into the car again; "we'll keep our eyes on the watch for a chance to stop at one of these cottages where they have a well in the yard, and you can get a drink there." "thank you, thad; it's a lot more than i deserve," said bumpus; "but i tell you i had the surprise of my life when she gave that snort, and started to run away with me. i'm shivering yet with the excitement; just feel my hand, will you, giraffe?" another start was made, everybody feeling satisfied that there had been no serious outcome of the adventure. to have had the car put out of the running would have caused them considerable distress; but they might have even forgiven that if only their jolly chum came through the accident unscathed. it was really thad himself who discovered a wayside cottage, with a well in the yard. possibly bumpus, bent on severe atonement, would never have called their attention to the same if he had been the only one to glimpse it. he even began to demur when thad said they would stop and ask for a drink; but giraffe told him not to be foolish. "think we want you to get choking pretty soon, and scare us half to death?" he told the fat boy severely; but then bumpus knew very well this was all assumed, and that giraffe really wanted him to assuage his raging thirst. so they came to a stop, and when a woman accompanied by several children came out of the cottage, thad managed by signs to ask permission to drink at her well. she quickly understood what he wanted, and nodded an assent, even starting to draw a fresh bucket of water, though thad took the rope from her hands, and completed the job. chapter xiv. more hard luck. during the next few hours they made progress, but the distance covered did not count for many miles. there were several reasons for this. in the first place thad found he had made a mistake in the road, for his chart was not as accurate as it should have been, and of course to rectify this they had to go back and try it all over again. then giraffe complained of being hungry, and that necessitated looking for some place where they might get something to eat. coming to a village finally, they saw another tavern, and as money "talks" with people who keep caravansaries of any sort, arrangements were made whereby they might be supplied with a meal. so an hour and more was consumed in waiting for this to be cooked, and in afterwards eating the same. no one, however, begrudged the time or the money, for what they had proved to be quite appetizing, with its flavor of french cookery. another cause for delay consisted in the fact that the road they were following mounted several rises, and as they had already learned, to their cost, the tricky old car disliked hill climbing above all things. so they were compelled to display their scout knowledge of "first aid to the injured" in the way of lending a helping hand. they came upon many people as they pursued their way. some were going in the same direction as the boys, while others came from the opposite quarter. they could not help noticing that all looked unusually excited; while some of them seemed to be carrying heavy burdens. these were doubtless possessed with the idea that the german cavalrymen would be raiding through that entire section at any time now, and if they hoped to save their most cherished possessions it was time they took them to some place of security. the day was passing, and only another hour remained for them to push on. thad was not at all satisfied with the poor progress they had made. "we'll try and do better to-morrow," he told them as they jogged along, the engine making more noise than ever, it seemed. "if only we can get to a point where there's no danger of being stopped by commands of raiding uhlans we can figure on reaching our destination--hello! what's gone wrong now, i wonder?" the engine had given a last weak throb and refused to carry on the work any longer. thad, allan and giraffe all jumped out and started to investigate. "oh! ginger! what do you think of that?" the last named was heard to exclaim, as though he had made a startling and unexpected discovery. "what is it, giraffe?" asked bumpus, who had not descended from the car, but for all that was deeply interested in everything that went on. "tank's clean empty!" burst from giraffe. thad and allen stared hard at each other. "you must be mistaken, giraffe," said the former. "you certainly have made a bad guess," added allan, "because we put in five gallons just an hour ago, and couldn't possibly have used more than a third of that amount by now. try again, giraffe!" "look for yourself," said the tall boy, with a shrug of his shoulders that stood for disgust, and perhaps a little indignation as well, that his word should be doubted. an investigation revealed the fact that there was hardly a drop in the tank. "here's the reason," said thad, pointing with his finger to where plain signs of a leak could be seen; "the reservoir has gone back on us. it must have sprung that leak in the last mile or two, and drained the tank." "oh! what tough luck!" exclaimed bumpus, and then settled back in his seat in the consciousness that these comrades, so fertile in resources, would speedily find some solution for the problem. thad glanced at allan, shook his head, and smiled dismally. "looks as if we're bound to run the whole gamut of car troubles before we're done with this machine, doesn't it?" he observed. "of course there are several things we might do. one is to pull the car aside so as not to block the road, and then strike on in hopes of finding a village, where we can either put up for the night or else get some gas, enough to bring us on." "failing that," said giraffe, "what's to hinder hiring a farmer and his horse to pull the machine along to town? it's a common occurrence over in our country, and these belgians are ready to do anything like that to earn a dollar or two. and if you say the word, thad, i'll be glad to strike off right now to either get the juice or hire a horse to tow us out of this." that was always the way with giraffe, for there never breathed a more willing comrade than the tall scout. "it's nice of you to make that offer, giraffe," the patrol leader told him, "and i guess we'll have to take you up on it, since there seems to be no other way." "we'd find it pretty tough to try and push the car a long ways," ventured bumpus, always remembering the effort it took to surmount the low hills they had struck; "and as to camping out here without a bite of supper, i'd rather be excused from trying it, even if i had to go for help myself." of course no one would dream of allowing such a thing as this last hint covered; and doubtless bumpus knew that he was perfectly safe in making it. "then i go, do i, thad?" asked giraffe, looking actually pleased at the chance to make himself "useful as well as ornamental," as he himself called it. "yes, if you will," he was told; "we'll promise to stay here and watch the car, though it'd be hard for any one to steal it without a bit of petrol in the tank to run the engine. take your time, giraffe; no need of sprinting. if you can't get the gasoline, bring a horse and a driver." "we're not so very proud!" laughed bumpus. "it'll only be another experience," ventured allan; being boys they could grapple with troubles without being greatly discouraged, for as is often the case they saw something of a frolic in each successive adventure, something to be remembered and retold later on with more or less pride. "while you're away, giraffe," continued thad, "we'll see if we can mend the hole in the petrol tank. i believe i saw a little soldering outfit in the kit of tools. just as like as not this isn't the first rust hole that's happened in that same old tank. if we can't do it, some plumber will have to undertake the job, for we can't go ahead otherwise." so giraffe walked on, taking great strides with those long legs of his. bumpus, who being so stout only made mincing steps, always declared giraffe must have inherited the famous seven league boots they used to read about in the fairy story books. giraffe waved his hand back to his comrades before turning a bend, and that was the last they saw of him on his mission for help. thad and allan were soon busily engaged. they made a little fire close by, where the small soldering iron could be heated. bumpus having asked if he could be of any assistance, and being told to the contrary, solaced himself by sitting there and watching all they did. "no telling but what i might want to mend a hole in a coffee pot some of these fine days," he remarked, complacently, "and it's just as well that i learn how to handle the tools. i believe in a scout's knowing things every time"; then as though his conscience suddenly smote him he hurriedly added: "but once in a while you may run up against a snag, like i did when i fooled with that driving wheel. think you c'n fix it, thad?" "it begins to look that way, bumpus," the other told him; "we seem to be making some progress, anyway." "oh! we'll get the hole mended all right," allan remarked, confidently; "but it's always going to be a question how soon another will come along. the tank is worn out, and not worth much." "we can only hope it serves our purpose, and after that who cares?" ventured the now philosophical bumpus. in the end the leak was repaired, and so far as they could see the tank would do its duty again as a reservoir, providing any petrol was to be had. by this time the boys were thinking they ought to see something of their messenger. giraffe would surely have had plenty of time to run across some wayside cottage where they had a horse that could be hired. "i expect," thad explained, to account for the delay, "he's got his mind set on getting some juice, and so he's gone on to the next town. well, if he fetches it with him we'll get along in a hurry all right." sitting there in the car, which had been dragged to one side of the road, they settled down to wait. the day was done, and with the setting of the sun thoughts of supper naturally came into the mind of bumpus, because that fierce appetite of his gave him little peace. "what if he doesn't show up to-night, thad?" he remarked, voicing a fear that had latterly been tugging at his heart. "i hope it doesn't come to that," replied the other, looking serious. "we'd be worried about him. of course we can put up the top of the car. it's a pretty ragged top at that, but would keep the dew from falling on us. as scouts we've camped out in a good many queer places, and ought to stand a little thing like that." bumpus did not much relish the prospect, but being a wise fellow he kept his disappointment to himself. the minutes crept on, and pretty soon darkness had engulfed the stalled car. still no giraffe. it looked very strange, for they could not imagine what might have happened to their chum. another hour passed. the moon even peeped into view over in the east, and there was no welcome hail in the cheery voice of the absent chum. bumpus gave himself up to the most agonizing speculations. he possibly saw, in his mind, poor giraffe undergoing all manner of tortures, from being shot as a german spy on account of having tried to converse with some one in the teuton language, to being taken prisoner by a band of raiding uhlans. and while engaged in thinking of all these things bumpus actually fell asleep. he could do that about as easily as any one thad had ever known. hearing his regular breathing, and seeing that bumpus was lying back in the corner under the hood which had been raised, thad gently placed the one thin cover they possessed over the sleeper; and after that when he and allan wanted to converse they lowered their voices so as not to disturb bumpus. "what do you think has gone wrong, thad?" allan asked, as though not fully satisfied with his own conclusions. "it's hard to say," replied the other; "but let's hope it's only because giraffe is dead set on getting the juice, and nothing else will suit him. we know once he makes up his mind he can be dreadfully stubborn, almost as bad as bumpus here, for a fact." after that they sat there and exchanged sentences only once in a while. the time was august, but all the same the night air began to feel more or less cool; and thad was even wondering whether it would not be a good idea to resurrect the fire they had used for heating the iron, so as to ward off this chill, when suddenly he heard sounds along the road that gave him a thrill. instantly his hand sought the arm of his chum. allan may have been half dozing, but as he felt that warning touch he was instantly wide awake. "listen!" whispered thad. more plainly than before came the sounds, and allan, too, was thrilled when he made out what seemed to be voices, mingled with a clanking noise such as would be made by soldiers bearing arms. yes, and now he plainly caught the thud of horses' hoofs on the hard road. "sit tight!" said thad; "there's nothing we can do to help ourselves. even if it is soldiers they may be belgians maneuvering to get in the rear of the germans. but we'll soon know the worst, for the sounds are coming closer all the time." so, sitting there while bumpus slept peacefully on, the two chums awaited the explanation of the mystery. chapter xv. at the end of a tow line. this state of uncertainty was of short duration. then thad chuckled softly. "i certainly heard giraffe's laugh then," he told allan; "and you can tell now it's only a single horse that's thumping along. after all giraffe had to give up on the petrol business, and come down to getting us towed in." soon they could see moving figures on the road, and catch the creak of heavy wheels much in need of axle grease. it proved to be a cart, and seated in the same was giraffe, together with a couple of half-grown belgian lads. "thought i was never coming, didn't you?" the tall scout remarked, as he jumped to the road; "well, i kept trying to get some gas all through the village, but it was no use. when i contracted to buy a supply i must have bitten off a bigger wad than i could chew. and i had a number of things happen, too; tell you about the same later on. now, we'll get busy hitching our chariot to a star. this was really the best i could do, thad." he was of course assured that no one dreamed of blaming him; and that they would be very well satisfied to get somewhere or other, no matter what the means of locomotion turned out to be. the two stout belgian boys soon managed with the help of giraffe to fasten the stalled car to the rear of their queer-looking cart. ropes had been brought along for that very purpose, giraffe foreseeing the need of such things. when the start was made the car gave a jerk. that served to arouse bumpus, who had continued to sleep calmly on despite all the talking. "oh! so we're going on again, are we? did giraffe fetch the stuff, and--my stars! whatever is that ahead of us; and a towing rope in the bargain? oh! i see now; we're being carted into town, for a fact!" giraffe was full of his recent hunt for liquid fuel. "i never saw the beat," he told them, "how everybody wants to hold on to what little petrol they've got. i offered double price, but they shook their heads and as near as i could understand tried to tell me they needed every drop for their own use. now that the war has broken out nobody knows what will happen. after chasing around till i was tired out, i made up my mind it was a case of the tow-line for us, or stay out here all night. i took the tow, and here we are." "how far away is the town you mention?" asked thad. "all of two miles," he was told; "but it wasn't the distance that kept me. i had to waste so much time trying to make them understand. then one party would direct me to a certain house where i might buy some petrol. result, half an hour wasted and not a thing gained." "is there an inn in that town, giraffe?" asked bumpus, softly. "thinking about your grub, ain't you, bumpus?" chuckled the other; "but that's all right. there's an inn, and i told the landlord we might show up later on. he even promised to cook us some supper when we came, charging extra for the same, you understand, bumpus. it was in front of that same inn i saw the soldiers." "germans?" asked allan, quickly. "no, a belgian battery of field guns that is heading for the fighting line," the late messenger explained. "they came in with a whirl while i was there, and watered the horses dragging the guns at the trough in front of the inn. it made a pretty sight, let me tell you, for the moon was just rising. i'll never forget it as long as i live." "they didn't offer to bother you, did they, giraffe?" asked bumpus. "sure they didn't," replied the other, scornfully. "why, i soon found that one of the gunners could speak pretty good english, and i had quite a little talk fest with him while the horses were drinking their fill at that trough." "did you pick up any information worth while, giraffe?" asked allan. "what i got only made me feel sour," the other replied. "why should it, giraffe?" bumpus wanted to know. "because i was told the germans seemed to be sending out thousands of their hard-riding cavalrymen to scatter through this part of the country and terrorize the people," explained giraffe. "there would be another meaning to such a move, i should think," ventured thad. "right you are there, thad," continued the other. "that gunner let me understand it was believed the germans, being held up so fiercely by the forts at liége, were trying to make a flank movement so as to threaten brussels from this side. and thad, he said there wasn't more'n one chance in ten we'd ever be able to get through the lines." "i'm sorry to hear that, giraffe," remarked the patrol leader. "but we don't mean to give up yet, do we?" queried bumpus, who never liked to quit; he had plenty of faults, but that of yielding could hardly be called one of his shortcomings. "it doesn't look like it," admitted thad; "for we've got our tank mended, and if there's any gasoline to be had for love or money we'll push on to-morrow, taking what comes, and making the best of it." "and always remembering," said giraffe, "that in case the worst comes we can go back to the dutch border, cross over, and make for rotterdam. that's what the belgian gunner told me. he was a fine young chap, and if he comes through the fighting all right i expect to hear from him after i get home again." as he never did, giraffe was later on forced to the sad conviction that his new-found friend must have given up his young life in defence of his beloved country, as thousands of others did likewise. they continued to talk as they made slow progress. it was snail-like, after having become accustomed to the ten-mile-an-hour gait of the car, when it was doing its best. still, no one complained, for half a loaf was a good deal better than no bread. "i'd a lot sooner be caught in this fix than to stay out there all night, crammed in the car," remarked bumpus, and then continuing he said, with a vein of reproach in his mellow voice: "but, thad, allan, it wasn't just right for you to tuck the only wrap we had along around me, like i was a big baby. i've got to learn to take my knocks like the rest of you, and i want you to let me meet my share, or else i'll be unhappy." "there, we're getting close to the village now," said giraffe, pointing to where houses could be dimly seen in the misty moonlight. the hour was pretty late when they hauled up in the inn-yard. the landlord had kept his word, and supper was being cooked even then, a fact bumpus discovered as soon as he could scent the odors in the air. "oh! mebbe i'm not glad you decided to take a horse when you couldn't get any gas, giraffe," he remarked, sniffing vigorously; "now, i wonder what he's having cooked for us. if it's as good as the stuff we had at noon i'm going to find out how it's made. then some time or other when we're camping out with the rest of the boys i'll spring a big surprise on you all." "i think that everything considered," said thad, "we have reason to be thankful things are no worse. so far as i can see there's been no damage done; and here's the landlord coming to tell us supper is ready." "hold on, bumpus, you forget that you've got a game leg, don't you?" called out giraffe, as the fat boy jumped to his feet in readiness for a rush. "oh! that's got well again," bumpus assured him blandly. "fact is, the scare i had when i was run away with by that car did the business for that lame leg. but if both of them happened to be crippled that wouldn't keep me from feeling hungry, would it?" since no one had ever known anything to do this of course there was no chance for giraffe to make any response. the supper turned out to have the same appetizing flavor which bumpus had so much admired at noon, and after a great deal of effort giraffe managed to extract the information from the landlord that it was all a little french trick of rubbing a bit of garlic on the pan in which the food was being cooked, and which gave it that flavor. "i see all sorts of trouble ahead for us scouts," ventured giraffe, after he had imparted this information to bumpus, "if ever he takes to carrying a string of garlic along with him on our hikes." they really enjoyed that supper immensely. possibly it was because they had such keen appetites after waiting so long in the cool night air; but no matter what the cause they left the table satisfied. "next thing is to get some sleep," remarked bumpus. "we're going to step out a bit first, bumpus, and push the car under a shed, so it will be hidden," allan told him. "oh! we don't have to lie around again to guard the same, i hope," suggested the fat scout, who was hoping to have clean sheets and a mattress for a change, instead of just ordinary hay. "no, we've decided to cut that out this time," thad explained, "because we don't believe there's going to be any stealing done. i'll cripple the machine again by taking away some part; and with no petrol aboard it ought to be safe." they were given a couple of large rooms that overlooked the front of the house. when thad thrust his head out of a window he could see the road, and the watering trough where as giraffe had told them the horses of the belgian field battery rushing to the front had stopped to drink. all seemed peaceful and quiet. if a dog barked occasionally, or a nearby rooster gave vent to a few crows, as was his habit at certain hours of the night, none of the tired lads were likely to pay any attention to such common sounds. they figured that given two more days, with as much progress accomplished as had marked the one just passed, and they should be beyond the danger line, with what could be called a clear field ahead of them. so doubtless as they settled themselves to sleep, two in each room, and with good clean and comfortable beds under them, their last thoughts must have been of hopes for the morrow, and wishes for as few interruptions as possible. allan was thad's bed-fellow, which of course left bumpus and giraffe to pair off--"the fat and the lean," as the tall boy remarked when proceeding to get most of his clothes off and try that "dandy-looking bed." thad could not go to sleep very easily, for a wonder. it was not that he had any reason to anticipate coming trouble, for as far as he could see there was nothing of the sort in sight. so many things persisted in crowding into his mind that for once his plan of settling down did not seem to work very well. it must have been fully eleven o'clock before he dropped off; and the last thing he remembered hearing was a series of odd little snorts coming from the adjoining room, which he knew must be caused by bumpus lying on his back. giraffe on his part was certainly sound asleep, or he would never have stood for such noises. then thad awoke. he heard the clatter of many horses' hoofs outside, together with the jangling of accoutrements. it gave him a shock and he immediately sat upright in bed. this awoke allan, and he copied thad's example as soon as he caught the strange and significant noises coming in through the open windows. as the two boys sat there listening, hardly knowing what all this rattle of iron-shod hoofs might signify, they heard a loud voice give a command, which was evidently intended as "halt!" what thrilled thad and his chum, however, was that the order was not given in english, french or flemish but in plain, unmistakable german. "the kaiser's men have struck this place, allan!" said thad, as with quivering hands he threw back the bed clothes, and jumping out started toward the window, bent upon seeing what it meant. allan was at his heels, and upon reaching the open window they looked out, to discover a sight that was calculated to impress them so strongly that it could never be forgotten. chapter xvi. the german raiders. the moon was well up in the heavens and this made it almost as light as day out there in the open. both the scouts could see that scores and scores of men mounted on fine horses had halted for a breathing spell. down by the pump as many horses as could gather around were drinking their fill at the very trough where only a few hours before the animals drawing the guns of the belgians had stood, according to what giraffe had told them. crouching there in the window the boys stared and listened and took it all in. it happened that the moon was on the other side of the inn so that the wall here was well in shadow. this prevented thad and allan from being noticed, and they had the good sense to remain perfectly still so as not to attract undue attention. there could be no telling what these hard-riding uhlans might do. doubtless nine-tenths of all the terrible stories told about their cruel work could be set down as pure fiction; but even then some among them might be reckless enough to fire a shot at a shrinking figure, half seen in a window, under the impression that it might turn out to be a "sniper" getting ready to shoot into their ranks. the landlord had come out, and was now talking with one of those who seemed to be in charge of the band. none of the boys had known up to this time he could speak german; and giraffe in particular would be surprised to know it, for had he only been aware of the fact on his previous visit it would have saved him much time and effort. when thad remembered about the belgian battery having been on the identical spot such a short time before he was strongly impressed with the strange vicissitudes and contrasts of war. and had that same battery but lingered in hiding it would have been in a position to strike a blow at the invaders not often encountered. remembering that they had companions in the other room thad started to creep through the connecting door, with the intention of waking them. then they too could afterwards boast of having looked upon a band of those dashing hard riders known as uhlans, and who with the russian cossacks have had the reputation of being the most terrible fighters of all europe. he had his trouble for his pains, for he found the bed in the other room empty, with giraffe and bumpus over at the window watching all that was going on below. "keep quiet, and don't draw any attention if you can help it," thad whispered to the others as he reached the spot where they crouched. "some of the officers are coming inside," said giraffe; "i reckon they've ordered the landlord to fetch up his best wines. it would be just like them to make him clean up his wine cellar for the benefit of the troop. and just our luck not to have paid our bill yet; for he's bound to make good his losses on his guests." "oh! let us hope they won't think to set fire to the inn, because his stock of drinks gives out," whimpered bumpus, doubtless already picturing in his mind what sort of work he could make of climbing out of the window and down the water pipe, in case such a dreadful catastrophe did come about. "here, you're shivering at the window, fellows," whispered thad; "and i'd advise you to go and get a blanket over your shoulders, if you want to stay and see all that happens." "you don't think they'll burn the house, do you, thad?" asked bumpus; "i want to know, because it'd take me some little time making a rope ladder out of the sheets. that's the best way to get down from here, because it'd be too big a drop for a fellow like me." "oh! don't worry about that," giraffe told him; "there won't be any burning done. you stand more chance of freezing to death right now; so get that blanket, bumpus. hold on, stay where you are, and i'll fetch one for you; it isn't safe to have you moving around so much." thad soon went back to his own room and provided himself with the bed covers which he divided with allan. there was really nothing new to report. more men and horses kept pushing up to the pump and the water trough. the handle of the former kept up a continual groaning as strong arms worked it constantly, to keep the trough from running dry. "here the officers come out again," remarked allan; "they've had their wine, and mean to let the landlord off easy this time. perhaps they're in too big a hurry to stay long in one place. that was the call to mount we just heard. and, thad, this is about as thrilling a scene as we've ever looked at." "yes," added the other, "and inside of a week half of those fine strapping big fellows may be dead, for all we know. they take their lives in their hands when they go galloping across an enemy's country this way. any hour they are likely to find themselves in a trap, with deadly rapid-fire guns pouring a hail of bullets into the troop, cutting down horses and men. it's terrible just to think of it." they saw the uhlans begin to gallop away, with a sense of great relief. the little pennons at the ends of their long lances fluttered in the night air. seen in the mellow moonlight it was an inspiring picture that made the hearts of the onlookers beat faster than usual. "i don't like that, though," thad was muttering as he watched, with the last of the troop leaving the watering trough. "what is it, thad," demanded allan, who had just barely caught the low words. "don't you see which way they're going?" asked the patrol leader. "why, they seem to have come into town from the left-hand road, and are leaving by the one that runs toward the southwest," replied allan. "well, that's our course to-morrow, you know," thad continued, with a meaning in his voice that could not well be mistaken. allan gave a low whistle. "i see now what you mean, thad," he remarked. "it begins to look as if that belgian gunner giraffe talked with knew what he was saying when he said we didn't have more than one chance in ten to slip through. if there are many more detachments of uhlans like this floating around, so as to fairly cover the country, we'll be hauled up as sure as anything, and chased back." "yes, because they'd be afraid we might carry important news to the enemy, and set the belgians on their trail," thad went on to say. they had no further reason for staying up in the chilly night air, with a comfortable bed so close at hand, and a few minutes later the two chums were tucked under the covers once more. "you don't think they bothered our car, do you, thad?" asked allan, as he prepared to coax further sleep to visit his eyes. "i hope not," he was told. "i did see several of the men go into the shed and move around the stables, but they must have been looking for sound horses, and not broken-down wrecks of cars. as they didn't carry off any horses that i could see i reckon all the good ones have already been taken for the belgian cavalry and field batteries." when eventually morning came it found all the scouts up bright and early. even bumpus astonished his mates by showing no desire to remain in bed after being aroused. "course we're going on, boys," he decided, as they were dressing; "just because there's a bunch of german rough-riders cruising around these parts isn't enough to make us back down and show the white feather, i hope." they all assured him that so far no one thought of doing such a thing, which information doubtless gave bumpus more or less satisfaction. "i wouldn't like to promise that we'll be able to break through, though, bumpus," thad warned him. "it's all going to depend on how the germans have scattered over the country down in that direction. if we have a lot of luck we'll escape them; but don't forget that we've still another scheme up our sleeve in case this one fails." this fleeting visit by a troop of the enemy had aroused the belgian village as nothing that had ever before occurred could have done. the women were out gossiping over the low fences, or else gabbling in groups in front of the houses. boys, old men, and those who from some physical defect were debarred from participating in the active service of the army could be seen talking in knots. although as yet they had not heard the crash of gun, and seen men falling in scores before the modern rapid-fire guns, or those using shrapnel, it was getting pretty close to the border line with them. to have two rival forces visit the quaint and peaceful place only a few hours apart brought the war home to those who dwelt in the little belgian town. giraffe had been greatly impressed. he was by nature a pugnacious sort of a boy, and it had always been a hard thing for him to subdue his passion when he first subscribed to the twelve cardinal rules that govern the life of a scout. now and then that old spirit would persist in cropping out again, in defiance to the law of the scouts. "tell you what," he was saying this morning, when, after eating breakfast at the inn, the boys started out in a bunch with an empty five-gallon can, determined to pick up enough petrol in small lots to serve to carry them over a good many miles of belgian territory; "tell you what, fellows, i'll be pretty much disappointed and broken-hearted if after being so near the firing line i don't get a chance to glimpse just one solitary battle between these belgians end the germans. somehow i've got a hunch that king albert and his boys can put up a good article of scrap; and from what we've heard they're giving the kaiser the surprise of his life over at liége right now." thad told him he was foolish to wish that, because a battle was a terrible thing, and apt to give him a fit of the horrors every time he remembered what he saw. "general sherman knew what war was when he called it a pretty hard name," the scout master continued, "and it's silly for a boy to want to see men shot down as if they were ripe grain. a scout should know better than that, giraffe, you want to remember." giraffe did not make any reply, but from his manner it was plain to be seen that he was far from being convinced by thad's logic. what was bred in the bone it was very hard to beat out of the flesh; and in other days giraffe had even owned a game rooster which he had proudly boasted could whip any barnyard fowl in and around cranford. they first got a few hints from the landlord, and then started out to try and get enough petrol to give them a fair start. sometimes they met with luck, and then again their mission proved just as fruitless as had giraffe's on the preceding evening when on the way to this same town. still, when half an hour passed and they had managed to buy four gallons they considered that they were doing very well indeed. "if we can double that in the same length of time we'll consider ourselves pretty lucky," said thad; "but no matter how we come out we're going to start about that time. every chance we get on the road we can stop and hold up the little sign our friend the landlord has made for us, and which reads: 'we want to buy a gallon or more of petrol, and will pay twice the regular price for it. we are american boy scouts trying to reach antwerp. help us out.'" they took turns in carrying the can which was by this time beginning to feel rather weighty. even bumpus insisted on taking his regular spell, for when they tried to spare him from doing his share of things he always grew indignant, and wanted to know why they tried to make him out to be a baby. bumpus was getting to be exceedingly touchy on such matters, it seemed, for his pride received a severe jolt every time it happened. when the next half hour had expired and thad told them they must go back to the inn so as to make a start they had close on seven gallons of petrol. apparently the fluid famine had already started in that part of little belgium, and it was certain to get worse continually as the bitter war went on. the scouts quitted their refuge of the night, feeling that they had passed through another novel experience in watching the coming and going of the raiding uhlan troop. chapter xvii. a man in the tree top. "to-day ought to tell the story whether we're going to get through or not," giraffe was saying, after they had been making more or less progress. "put it a little stronger, giraffe," ventured thad. "say to-day and to-morrow will go pretty far toward settling it; because with such a knock-down machine we're apt to meet up with all sorts of delays." bumpus shook his head and sighed. "i know i'll be glad when the agony is over," he remarked pensively; and there was not one of his companions but who felt he was thinking of his waiting mother rather than himself. for a little while their progress was indeed very fair, and as giraffe counted the number of miles they were putting behind him he kept smiling more broadly than ever. "bully for the busy little worker!" he exclaimed finally. "i sure believe it's taken on new life, and is renewing its youth. and yet they say they can't come back." hardly had he spoken the last word when the engine gave a loud groan that sounded almost human, and quit working. "there, that's what you get for shouting before you're out of the woods!" said bumpus, in sheer disgust. giraffe looked blank. "say, do you really believe motors can understand the english language?" he demanded of the fat scout. "this one has been brought up on either german or french, and how would it know i was boasting? anyway next time i say a thing like that you'll see me knocking on wood right away." thad was already out and had the hood lifted so that he could look the disheartened engine over, and find just what the trouble might be. "mebbe it's that silly old gas tank again?" suggested bumpus. allan made a hurried examination. "nothing wrong here," he announced; "no drip, and plenty of stuff inside. looks as if the engine could only stand just so much, and then had a fainting fit. and no matter where we bring up in the end, mark my words, fellows, we've got to work our passage." "find out what bust, thad?" asked giraffe, as he jumped from the car. "i don't seem to get it yet, and as there's no telling what may come along the road while we're loafing here, suppose we all get busy and push the car to one side, where it isn't apt to block the passage." thad's advice was immediately carried out, and when this had been done he applied himself industriously to the task of first ascertaining what had happened to the wretched engine, and then to repair the defect, if it were possible. giraffe, always nervous and hard to keep quiet, meanwhile walked over toward a mound that lay close by. "just to take a little observation, and see if there's any sign of those airmen we saw yesterday," he told the others. "i heard something that sounded like firing early this morning," said thad, "and it may be there has been more warm work going on. the breeze came from the wrong quarter to help me out, and so i couldn't be sure." they saw giraffe make his way up the little rise and reach the top, where he began to cup his hands about his eyes so as to see the better. possibly three minutes passed when those at the car heard sharp barking as of a fox, and which of course was the call of the silver fox patrol. "he's waving to us to come up there!" exclaimed bumpus, scrambling out of the car, for he had felt so very comfortable that so far he had not thought fit to make any change. "yes, and he means the whole bunch of us in the bargain, if signals stand for anything, thad," added allan. "all right, let's go," the patrol leader replied, as he started toward the knoll, still gripping the monkey-wrench with which he had been working at the time. with bumpus puffing at their heels the two boys soon arrived at the base of the mound, and started up. it was a severe task for the fat scout, but bumpus could do considerable, once he made up his mind, and he was with them when they reached the spot where the excited giraffe stood. "what ails you, giraffe?" asked allan. for answer the elongated scout leveled his arm, and pointed in a certain direction. "see that tall, bushy tree, thad?" he exclaimed; "well, turn your eyes up toward the top of the same and you'll see what gave me a body blow." "i see it!" called out bumpus, "and say, it looks like a man fastened up there! oh! as sure as anything it moved then! it must be alive, fellows!" "it is a man," said thad, decisively. "but what on earth could he be doing away up there?" asked allan, still straining his eyes to look. giraffe had a remarkable vision. he could often discern things that were next to invisible to his chums. "he's caught fast there, i tell you," he remarked, eagerly, "and it's a good thing for him he is, because if he fell to the ground he'd be killed." "how queer!" cried bumpus, his eyes almost starting out of their sockets with the intensity of the interest he took in the affair; "whoever could have hung the poor fellow away up there in that tree top?" giraffe snorted in disdain. "nobody hung him there, silly!" he exclaimed. "he fell there, that's all!" "fell there!" repeated bumpus, incredulously. "oh! now you're trying to kid me, giraffe. i don't take any stock in those big yarns about mars being inhabited, and all that stuff. speak plainer, can't you?" "if you look close, thad," giraffe said, ignoring bumpus completely now, "you'll see something lying on the ground near the tree." "yes, you're right, giraffe, i see it," replied the other; "and it looks as if it might be some sort of wreck, too." "just what she is!" cried giraffe exultantly; "the wreck of an aeroplane. that man in the tree must have been one of the flying squad, german or belgian, we don't know which yet. he met with an accident while up aloft. mebbe some of that shrapnel injured his machine, and he was making for the earth to land far away from the battle field when he struck that tree, and there he's stuck ever since." "oh! how hard it must have been for him, hanging up there all night, and p'raps badly hurt at that!" cried the tender-hearted bumpus. "thad, you wouldn't think of going on and leaving him there, i hope?" "well, i should say not, bumpus," giraffe told him. "we'd deserve to be kicked out of the organization if ever we did that. how could we look back without turning fiery red every time we remembered such a cowardly act? leave it to us, and we'll get him down out of that, eh, thad?" "our duty compels us to do everything we can to alleviate distress," the patrol leader said, soberly. "and it doesn't matter the least bit to us whether that poor chap is a german, belgian or frenchman. he's in a terrible position, and may lose his life unless we do something for him. so let's head that way on the run!" "what about the car, thad?" asked allan. "hang the car," replied the other, impulsively. "it's stalled right now, and the engine partly dismantled, so there's no danger of its running away." "i hope not," bumpus was heard to mutter, dubiously, "but cars are mighty funny contraptions any way you put it, and nobody ever knows what they're meaning to do. when you think they're sleeping as sweet as anything they may kick you all of a sudden just like a mule." bumpus did not say anything more. he needed all the breath he could gather in so as to keep within reasonable distance of his three chums, who were making pretty fast time toward the tall tree. as they drew closer to the spot all doubt concerning the nature of the heap on the ground was dissipated. it was undoubtedly a wrecked aeroplane, and thad, who had taken pains to look these things up, told the others it was without question a taube model, small but swift. "that means the man up yonder will turn out to be a german aviator, doesn't it, thad?" asked allan, who was at his side, with giraffe leading. "no question about that," was the reply, "because the germans are the only ones who are using the taube model exclusively. they seem to think it about fills the bill for safety and speed." they had seen the man who was held fast among the branches of the tree almost at the apex, in fact, wave his hand to them several times. this told the boys he was still alive, even though possibly suffering tortures. it also informed them that he had been watching their coming, and while restraining from shouting out, meant to implore their assistance. "how are we going to get him down?" asked giraffe, as they reached the foot of the tree, which looked as though it could be easily scaled, since the lower limbs came close to the ground. "three of us must climb up," said thad. "we can help each other, and it strikes me we ought to be able to make it." "one thing in our favor," remarked allan, who was famous for seeing things, "the aviator is a rather small man. that's going to be lots of help." "what can i do, thad?" asked bumpus, willing to attempt anything going, though his bulk would hardly allow him to be useful up aloft; in fact he was apt to bother the others rather than prove of assistance. "stay down here, and take the man when we lower him from the limbs," thad told him. it was not much, bumpus thought, but then he could at least say that he had had a hand in the rescue of the unfortunate aeroplane pilot. giraffe climbed quickly, and reached the vicinity of the stranded aviator first. he was even talking in german with him when the other two arrived. they could see just how the garments of the man had become caught in the branches, so that he was held there as in a vise, utterly unable to help himself. "he says he's been here all night," said giraffe, eagerly, his face aglow with pride over the fact that once more his high school german was proving valuable. "he was swinging up pretty high, taking notes of the disposition of the belgian forces, when he found himself a target for heavy firing. he thinks his machine must have been hit as well as himself, for it started to act queer. so he made off like the wind to get as far away from the firing line as he could, always falling, and in the end he struck this tree just before dark." "he's been wounded in the left arm," said thad, "for you can see how it hangs helpless, and there's dried blood on his sleeve too, caking it hard. he might have bled to death here if that arm didn't happen to be above him, which has helped to stop the flow. i'm afraid it'll start in again while we're getting him down, but that can't be helped." "we'll fix that soon enough, thad," said giraffe, eagerly, "once we get him on the ground. scouts ought to know their business enough to fix up any ordinary hurt like that. but have you arranged your plan, thad? tell us what to do, and you'll see us get busy." the patrol leader had taken a hasty survey of the situation. he saw there was only one way in which they could get the aviator free from the clinging branches, and swing him in to the body of the tree. accordingly he began to give his orders clearly. "you reach him on that side, giraffe, and i'll take hold here. when we swing him in, allan, you catch hold, and keep him steady. then we'll cut these twigs, and free his leather coat. but be careful, both of you, for a slip would mean broken bones, if not something worse. now, ready, giraffe? then when i say three, start swinging!" chapter xviii. good samaritans. "well done, allan!" exclaimed giraffe as the third boy successfully clutched the aviator, after they had managed between them to swing him in. thad now gave instructions just how to work the branches free, one by one. "keep a good hold on him everybody," he said, and was also pleased to note that the aeroplane pilot had himself taken a desperate clutch upon a small limb, as though meaning to be of what little assistance he could. step by step they accomplished it, and before long were commencing to descend the tree. the man proved to be full of grit, as was to be expected of one who continually took his life in his hands in making those daring aerial flights, thousands of feet above the earth, and over hostile lines at that, where he would be a target for dozens of exploding shrapnel bombs. bumpus down below grew more and more excited the closer they came. he had braced himself like a gladiator, as though he meant to try and catch the man if by any mischance he slipped from their grasp and fell, and bumpus would have been foolish enough to offer himself as a buffer, had any such accident happened. but there was, fortunately, no slip, and presently they lowered the man into his waiting arms, so that after all bumpus was able to do a small share in the rescue. apparently the poor fellow was greatly weakened by his recent terrible experience. to hang there the livelong night, swaying with the branches, and in constant danger of dropping to his death, must have been a severe shock to his nervous system. and then besides he had lost much blood, and that would weaken him in itself, even without the lingering peril. he sank to the ground, but at the same time looked inquiringly at them, as though to question whether they were capable of helping him further. "tell him, giraffe, if you can," said thad, "that as boy scouts, over in america, we have learned how to care for all ordinary wounds, and that we mean to do what is possible for his arm." "it's lucky, thad," said bumpus, "that you always insisted on carrying that little roll of linen along with you, and some healing salve. i own up there have been times when i thought you were foolish to load yourself down that way, but i see how valuable it can come in." "some people think it folly to insure their houses," said thad, "but when the fire comes along they understand what a comfort it is to those who get the cash to rebuild. i carry this stuff because one of us might get hurt when away from a doctor or surgeon. and i'm willing to use it on the first fellow we've run across who needs it." meanwhile giraffe was again talking with the pilot. the man nodded his head eagerly when he heard what the tall boy said. perhaps he knew what german boy scouts were always taught to do in emergencies, but was in doubt with regard to their american cousins, for giraffe had of course informed him before then how they came from over the sea, and were only pilgrims in belgium at the time. it was deemed advisable to help the man down to the little stream that thad had noticed close by. here they commenced to get his leather coat off. it was no easy task, and bumpus turned pale when he saw what a mess his arm was in, through lack of attention for so many hours. giraffe had been dispatched over to the car and returned with a little tin bucket they happened to possess. allan meanwhile had started a small fire, and over this the tin utensil, after being filled with water, was placed. when the liquid was heated enough thad started to wash the man's arm. gradually the nature of the wound was disclosed. after all it was not so very serious, when that dried blood had been cleansed from his arm. some missile from the bursting shrapnel bomb had cut through the muscles, but it would soon heal, if no serious consequences followed his long exposure. thad used his liniment and bound the arm up as carefully as any experienced red cross surgeon could have done under similar conditions. the man looked very grateful. that could be seen in his manner, and the pleased way in which he followed all of thad's operations with his eyes. still, there was an expression of doubt on his face now and then, and thad could give a pretty good guess what it meant. undoubtedly the german air pilot had begun to wonder just what his status was going to be, now that he had been rescued from his perilous position in that high treetop, and his wound so splendidly dressed. would he have to consider himself a prisoner of war? these boys in khaki who said they came from america,--were they so much in sympathy with the allies that they would consider it their duty to hand him over to the belgians? he must have put the question to giraffe when he talked so fast, for that worthy after having him repeat it more slowly shook his head, and turning to thad remarked: "what d'ye think, thad, the poor chap is wondering whether he's a prisoner of war or not?" "do you mean he thinks we want to consider him our prisoner?" asked the other. "just let him know that we're as neutral as we can be, giraffe. while we don't like this thing of the big german army invading the country of the poor belgians, and think it all wrong, still we're not taking any side. so far as we're concerned he is as free as the air." when giraffe told this to the eagerly listening air pilot he seemed to be very much gratified. "he says he has good friends not a great ways off," reported giraffe, after some more talk with the wounded aviator, "and thinks he could manage to reach them, if only he can hide somewhere till dark settles down." "that's all right!" thad declared, "and so far as we're concerned we hope he may sooner or later manage to get back inside the german lines. he's a brave man, and we're only too glad to have been of service to him." "thad," continues giraffe, "he says he wants to write something down if you've got a pencil and paper handy. i think he means to fix it so that in case we run across some of his people they'll be good to us. it's the only way he knows to show how grateful he feels." "i don't know but what it might be a good idea, although we hope we won't come across any of those german raiders," thad remarked, as he searched his pockets, and found the needed articles. the man wrote with some difficulty, for his hand was stiff, but after he had completed his task giraffe said he could read it all right. "he's gone and told how he happened to land in a tree top, and would have died there only for us getting him down," explained giraffe; "and then he goes on to tell how we bound up his wounds, and did everything for him we could; so that he asks any german officer who reads this to be kind to us for his sake. i reckon now that the name he's signed is well known among german airmen; seems to me i've heard it, or seen it in print." the air pilot had gotten out his pipe, and was actually enjoying a smoke. doubtless, being addicted to the weed he would have suffered less during the long night could he have had the satisfaction of an occasional puff. allan looked at him curiously, while giraffe was filled with admiration. "these air pilots have to be pretty cool customers, it strikes me," he remarked, as they prepared to say good-bye to the man, who evidently did not think it wise on his part to go near the road, lest he be seen and taken prisoner. "they certainly do," said thad, "because there isn't a second when they're up in the air that they're not in deadly danger. a man may stumble on land; he may have an accident when on the water, but he's got a fair chance to save himself. with them a collapse means being snuffed out of existence." "whew! excuse me from being an aviator!" declared bumpus, so fervently that giraffe turned and looked him over from head to foot, to remark caustically: "no danger of that happening, bumpus. they'd have to build a zeppelin to accommodate you." "oh! i'm not thinking seriously of trying it, giraffe," said the other, sweetly. "i guess i know my shortcomings as well as any one could. i don't expect to fly as long as i stay in this world. there may be a time--but never mind about that. our friend wants to shake hands with you, thad. he knows what a heap you've done for him, and i guess he'll have a right good opinion of american boy scouts after this." the rescued german aviator shook hands not only with thad but each one of them in turn, and he said something in his own language which giraffe later on told them was a warm expression of his heartfelt gratitude. as the four lads started toward the road where they had left the stranded car he was standing there and waving his uninjured hand after them. when, however, they arrived at the mound and looked back once more he had disappeared. some people were coming along the road, and possibly the man may have discovered them before the boys did, seeking a place of refuge in order that they might not make out that he was a german, and so carry the news to some belgian regiment quartered nearby. thad started in to work at the engine as though this thing of being called off to save the life of a birdman was a mere nothing at all, just coming along in the course of his ordinary business. bumpus installed himself in his seat and watched him work. that was a favorite occupation with bumpus, for he did enjoy seeing some one else do things about as well as any boy that ever lived. "think he'll get clear of his enemies, thad?" he remarked, showing that all the while his thoughts were connected with the air pilot whom they had just rescued. "he seemed to feel pretty sure of it," the other replied, "though of course he'd have to avoid all the people living around this section, for they'd turn on him if they guessed he was a german. the belgians are pretty furious over their country being overrun with the kaiser's troops. i've even seen old peasants handling guns as if they meant to fight for their homes, a very foolish thing for them to do, because it would only enrage the invaders, and end with a massacre." "you act as if you'd remedied the break in the engine, thad, seeing that you're putting up your tools, and wiping your hands off," remarked giraffe. "i've got it fixed," thad informed him, without any great show of enthusiasm; "but remember i'm not promising how long it's going to stand. there's always a toss-up with a machine of this kind as to what part will break down next." "tell me about that, will you?" growled giraffe, in disgust. "i'd like to kick the old box into the river only that it does save us some walking. it's a lottery any way you can fix it." "get aboard everybody, and let's see how she cranks," suggested thad. as usual it took several urgent efforts before the engine decided to heed the call to duty. "there, she sings like a bird!" cried bumpus as the loud whirr announced that once again their motor was in working order. so they started off. "one thing sure," remarked giraffe, looking back toward the place where presently they could just glimpse the top of the tall tree where they had found such queer fruit growing, "that was a remarkable little adventure, and none of us are likely to forget it in a hurry either." "i know for one i won't!" declared bumpus; "and every time i look at this bolt that i took from the broken taube aeroplane i'll think of how you fellows climbed right up to the top of that tree and brought the birdman down safe to the ground, and how i stood there to receive him. yes, it's marked with a white stone in my memory, and i can just imagine how smithy, step hen, davy jones and bob white'll stare when they hear the story of the wrecked aeroplane man!" chapter xix. the battle at the bridge. once more the fugitives managed to go on for some little distance, with nothing out of the common run happening. bumpus was thinking that the engine had commenced to act quite decently, but of course he did not dare mention this fact aloud. the recollection of what had followed when giraffe boasted was still fresh in his memory. "there's a fork in the road ahead of us, thad," announced the keen-eyed giraffe. "do we take the right or the left branch?" "i'm a little dubious about that," said the pilot at the wheel. "why, what does your chart say?" asked giraffe. "as near as i can make out," he was told, "the roads come together again some ways further on, perhaps as much as seven miles or so. the one that leads toward the left seems to be shorter than the other by considerable." "then why should you hesitate about starting along that one?" asked allan. "only because it heads so far toward the southwest, you see," explained thad. "oh! i'm on now," exclaimed the tall scout. "you're a bit worried for fear we'll run smack into some of the fighting that seems to have been going on over that way--is that it, thad?" "well, yes, giraffe, but on the whole i think i'll make the try. if we see things getting thick ahead of us we can turn around and come back again at the worst. and if we do manage to get along without being held up we'll save quite some time." that was how they came to be moving along that road, and heading in a direction that opened up new hazards. "we want to keep a good lookout whenever we strike a rise," the pilot warned them. "tell me if you happen to see anything that looks suspicious, for it may be a hard job to get turned around, you know." each one of the others readily promised, though very likely the task would fall principally to giraffe, as he had the best eyes for this purpose. they may have covered as much as three miles after passing the fork when they saw a hill ahead of them. bumpus looked and groaned. he knew what that meant. "more push coming, fellows!" commented giraffe. "as for me, i won't be sorry to get out and stretch my legs a bit, because they're feeling cramped." "hit it up for all the old tub can carry, thad," begged bumpus. "the further she carries us before giving up the ghost the less hard work we'll have to do. go it, you shirker, do your level best! if you could only drag us all the way up i'd beg your pardon for ever having even thought evil of you. here we go!" they started up the rise bravely enough, but speedily the engine began to make signs as of distress. "get ready to jump, everybody!" called out giraffe. "yes, that's easy for you to say," complained poor bumpus, "but think of me, won't you? how can i spring like a frog when she starts to go backward down the hill again? i'll do my best to roll out; only somebody grab hold, and don't let me get started rolling like a barrel after the car!" "oh! no danger," thad told them. "just as soon as she stops i'll jam on the brake and let her back off the road." "we're two-thirds of the way to the top anyhow!" cried giraffe, triumphantly. he had hardly spoken when the engine gave a last expiring puff, and thad immediately turned the car into the little ditch alongside the road. they had done this grand pushing act so often by this time that they had it all reduced to a system. two took hold on either side, and in this way the car was urged up the balance of the rise. with but a couple of stops, so as to catch their breath, the boys managed to reach the crown of the low hill. "worth all it took to get here, just to enjoy that grand view!" gasped allan. giraffe uttered a cry. "look down there to where the road crosses a river by a bridge!" he exclaimed. "why, there are lots of men in uniforms on the other side of the bridge, belgian soldiers as sure as anything!" cried allan. "they've got cannon, too," added bumpus, staring with distended eyes, "because you c'n see the glint in the sunlight. what d'ye suppose it all means, thad?" as usual he had to appeal to the patrol leader for an opinion. bumpus had never fully learned that a scout should try to figure out things for himself, and not be forever asking some one else for an explanation. but then it was so much easier doing things by proxy, and bumpus, as every one knew, hated to exert himself more than was absolutely necessary. "that bridge must be an important one, i should say," thad explained, "and the battery has had orders to guard it so that no german cavalrymen can cross." "and perhaps sooner or later there will be a fierce old fight take place right down there!" giraffe was saying, half to himself, and with a touch of envy in his voice, as though he felt sorry that he could not be upon that same hill so as to watch the battle below. "ought we to keep on and try to get across that bridge, thad?" asked allan. "it's a question whether the belgians would let us get close enough to tell who we are. they might open on us as soon as we came in sight," bumpus remarked, from which it might easily be seen what he hoped thad would do. "we're not going to have the chance to try and cross the bridge," remarked giraffe, "and if you want to know the reason why just look along the river road that joins this one down near the bridge." no sooner had the others done this than loud and excited exclamations told what a shock they had received. "that's what all the dust meant i noticed rising over those trees," said bumpus. "why, there comes a whole army of soldiers, and say, they've got field guns along with them, too, because you can see the horses dragging the same." "and do you notice the gray uniforms they are wearing?" giraffe demanded. "that shows who they are--the kaiser's men, as sure as anything. now there's going to be the dickens to pay. the river must be deep, and i reckon that same bridge is the only one around this section. the germans are bent on crossing over, and the belgians just as set that they shan't do the same. thad, you won't think of quitting this splendid view-place and losing the one chance we may ever have to see a real up-to-date battle?" thad did not answer immediately. he had a boy's curiosity as well as giraffe, and felt that it would be something to say they had actually witnessed a fierce fight between the rivals for belgian soil, the defenders and the invaders. "yes, we will stay a while," he finally said; "but first let's get the car turned around, and make sure it will work when called on. we may have to leave here in a big hurry, you understand." these little matters having been duly attended to they were in a position to observe all that was transpiring below. it was just like a grand panorama, or something that had been staged for a moving picture show. the german battery was advancing on a gallop now, as though the fact had been discovered that the bridge was guarded by the belgians. men could be seen using the whip on the steaming horses, already galloping wildly. the rumble of the wheels on the road came distinctly to the ears of the interested boys standing on the rise, and really not more than a mile or so from the scene. "there, the troops are coming on the double-quick, too!" announced giraffe. "you can't see the end of them yet, and i should think there must be thousands of soldiers in that bunch. it's going to be a hot old affair, believe me. mebbe the germans may carry the bridge, and again they might get more than they bargained for right there." evidences of considerable excitement could be seen among the defenders of the river bridge. men ran this way and that; perhaps ammunition was being placed handy, so that the guns could be quickly served, because time was a factor that would undoubtedly enter into the result. a delay of a few seconds was apt to count heavily for either side when fighting it out at such close quarters. of course all of the scouts were keenly interested. while neither thad nor allan felt just the same eagerness that giraffe displayed, at the same time they knew such an opportunity to see a wonderful and terrible spectacle would not be apt to come their way again in a hurry, and so they were satisfied to stay. as for bumpus, he was shivering, not with eagerness, but in anticipation of awful sights he expected to witness, once those guns started business. the florid look had left his round face, and it was now almost pallid, with his blue eyes round and expectant. amidst clouds of dust and more or less racket the german battery came dashing along. it broke through into a field as though all this had been figured out beforehand in the wonderful systematic way these teuton fighters did nearly everything they undertook. there the horses were detached from the guns and caissons and hurried away to a place of security. already a loud crash announced that the belgians were beginning hostilities, not meaning to wait until that host of grim gray-clad infantry reached the abutment of the bridge. the four boys watched and saw a shell burst close to one of the german batteries. it did not seem to do any damage, nor did the gunners show the least sign of any flinching, but went steadily about their work of loading. other shots began to roar out until there was a constant crash in the air almost deafening, and white powder smoke rose in billows, through which the watchers on the hilltop could actually discover flashes of flame when another gun was discharged. the battle for the bridge was now on in earnest. hurrying figures could be seen in every direction. the germans were evidently not fully satisfied with their first position for down came the horses again, and being attached to the guns the latter were whisked further up the rise where they could get a better chance to shell the chosen position of the belgian battery. it seemed to get more and more exciting every second. none of the boys said a single word; they were too intensely interested in looking; and besides, the riot of noise was now at its height, so that they would have had to shout in order to have made themselves heard, even close at hand. doubtless there had already been many casualties on both sides, with all that furious bombardment at close range; but the smoke hid much of this from the eyes of the spectators. thad was of the opinion the germans could not have known of the belgian battery at the bridge; he believed that had they been aware of it in all probability their battery would have taken up its stand on the crown of the hill where the four scouts stood, from which point they could have made it too warm for the belgians to remain there below. all at once thad realized that the infantry columns had been hurrying along the road and scattering through the fields near by. he caught glimpses of their number and was amazed when he saw they must be in the thousands. other batteries also began to show up back along the road. this was not a sporadic dash on the part of a mere detachment of the german force, but an advance of the main army, bent on getting around the stumbling block at liége. and to himself thad was saying: "they mean to take that bridge, no matter how many lives it costs them, for it is an important link in their general plans." giraffe was calling out something. it chanced that there was a little lull in the roar of guns, and they could hear what he was saying. it seemed to give the finishing thrill to the situation, as though the grand climax had been reached. "look! oh, see what they're meaning to do, fellows!" was what giraffe cried at the top of his shrill voice. "the order's been given to charge the bridge, and as sure as you live there they go with a rush!" and bumpus hurriedly put his hands before his eyes, though possibly peeping through between his fingers, impelled by some dreadful fascination. chapter xx. victory in defeat. through the clouds of powder smoke they could see that the germans were moving toward the bridge in solid ranks, shoulder to shoulder, in the favorite formation of the kaiser's troops, and one which gives them confidence to march straight into the jaws of certain death. other detached groups were hastening down to the bank of the river, apparently with the idea of swimming across in some fashion, so as to gather on the opposite shore, and take the hostile battery in the rear. it was all wonderfully exciting, and no boy could stand there gazing at such a stirring spectacle himself unmoved. so many things were happening all the time that as giraffe afterwards said, it was like "trying to see a three-ringed circus, where amazing feats were being enacted in all three rings at the same time." a fellow would have need of several pairs of eyes if he expected to lose nothing of all that went on. as the head of the attacking column drew nearer the bridge the belgian gunners stopped firing at the battery above. they turned their guns directly at the close ranks of the oncoming host. when thad actually saw a shell explode in the midst of that pack of gray-garbed men, and noted the terrible gap that followed he felt sick for the moment. he was, however, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight; it was so novel, so fascinating, and so dreadful that it held his gaze as the pole does the needle of a compass. there was not the slightest sign of a stop, even though other shells tore ugly gaps through the lines. to thad it almost seemed as though those men were parts of a vast machine which, having been set in motion, could not be stayed. one thing he noticed, and this was that the belgian battery was entirely unsupported. if ever the germans managed to push across the bridge they would easily smother the few gallant defenders of the highway to brussels. from this thad judged that the few belgians at the bridge must have their plans all arranged, and that when they found their cause hopeless there would be a sudden change of front. perhaps they would bring the horses forward, and try to save their field-pieces from capture. now some of those who had hurried to the edge of the water were wading in, holding their guns high above their heads. others ran up and down the bank looking for any kind of old boat that could be utilized in order to transport a few at a time across to the other side. there were still a considerable number who hastened along the bank toward the abutment of the bridge. the intention of these latter could not well be mistaken, for they meant to gain access to the structure, regardless of the success or failure of the general assault. suddenly in the midst of all this clamor a shadow fell athwart the four scouts standing on that rise, and staring downward. looking up they discovered an aeroplane, low down, and speeding swiftly toward the spot where that desperate fight for the possession of the bridge was taking place. thad instantly recognized another of those taube machines, so different in construction from all others that, once noticed, they could never again be mistaken. then it was a german aviator who served as pilot aboard that little buzzing craft. he should have covered the field before the soldiers came, and his report might have made a difference in the attack. as it was now he headed straight for the half-concealed belgian battery, as though it might be the intention of the man aloft to drop bombs on the gunners, and help to create a panic among them. somehow the boys found themselves compelled to follow the flight of the birdman as he swooped down and crossed the river. whether there was a bridge or not made no difference to him. he was as free to come and go as the swallow that on swift wing flashes past the house chimney of a summer evening. looking intently thad could even see when he raised his arm, and he knew the precise instant the bomb had been thrown. allowing his eyes to drop to the ground he saw a sudden burst of smoke and realized that that was where the deadly little missile had burst. still swinging around in a circle the birdman commenced hurling other menacing missiles. each time the result could be seen in the puff of smoke close to the belgian battery; but at that distance it was impossible for thad to make sure that any casualty followed those repeated thrusts. but now the head of the attacking german force had reached the bridge. fearful had been the price they paid for this advantage; but fresh men had closed up the gaps, so that they were just as densely packed as ever when they came to the end of the structure. a gun had been so placed that it commanded the length of the bridge. when it was fired there followed a shrinking of the whole front of the attacking force, as if it had been terribly smitten. that was just for a second, and then the red lane was closed by the gray flood, and the first hostile feet were set upon the bridge. undoubtedly the crisis was now at hand. thad fairly held his breath with anticipation with what was to come though he could not even give so much as a guess as to its nature. surely those valiant belgians must have prepared against such an eventuality as this, and would not be caught napping. there was no force in hiding that thad was able to discover, ready to burst into view, and grapple with the oncoming germans after they had gotten fully upon the bridge. ah! from above he saw the horses dashing madly to the spot! then the belgians meant to withdraw while there was still time. but it seemed incredible to thad that they should leave the bridge intact in the hands of the invaders. he quickly understood when, without the slightest warning, there came a mighty shock that made the very earth quiver, and the further end of the bridge was seen to vanish into space, accompanied with a rising cloud of smoke. they had blown up the bridge when realizing the futility of further resistance against the superior numbers of the germans. when the great cloud of smoke had cleared away sufficiently for the scouts to again see what was going on they found that the horses had been attached to such of the belgian guns as were in condition, and already the foremost was moving along the road leading directly away from the ruined bridge. a few of the soldiers who had crossed the river tried to take pot shots at the gunners who lay as flat as they possibly could while riding the horses, or holding on to the caissons. the battle was over, and, looking down at the ruins of the bridge, thad was of the opinion that it had ended in favor of the defenders. true they had been obliged to sacrifice the bridge in the end, but that mattered little since they had balked the design of the invaders to seize and use the crossing of the river. now much time must be wasted in building another bridge, or else in seeking a new way for crossing the river with their guns. as the smoke lifted further the boys could see what was going on. many must have been injured when the bridge was blown up, for there was great scurrying to and fro, with men bearing stretchers in evidence. bumpus had allowed his hands to fall from his eyes now, though he could be seen shaking his head after a sad fashion. plainly bumpus was stirred to the depths of his heart by the conviction that there must be scores of those who were terribly wounded down there, and who needed attention the worst kind. had thad only given the word that would have taken them to the aid of the suffering germans bumpus would have gladly responded, even though his knowledge of surgery was confined to the first elements of binding up a wound. but thad did not mean to attempt such a thing. he knew that soldiers would never permit inexperienced boys like they were to play the part of army hospital attendants. they were amply supplied with all the necessary means for saving life; and besides, soldiers are taught never to grumble no matter how long they have to wait after being shot down on the battlefield, before their chance comes for attention. those who had actually stemmed the current of the river only to find that their intended prey had escaped them were seen rushing about on the other bank. they may have been looking for wounded belgians to make prisoners; thad hoped it was not any desire to kill that animated them in the bitter hour of defeat. "gee! is there no end to the procession?" exclaimed giraffe, as he could still see countless numbers of the same gray-coated soldiers swarming out of the woods to the west, and coming on in serried ranks. "just to think of the nerve of that one little battery trying to hold a whole army corps in check!" declared allen. "it strikes me these belgians are the bravest of the brave, and mean to fight for their country to the last gasp." "do you know what i believe?" demanded giraffe, as though a sudden thought had come into his head. "tell us, please, giraffe," asked bumpus. "i wouldn't be a bit surprised if that battery we watched do all this fighting was the identical one i saw come into that town. you remember i told you about the chat i had with a young gunner who could talk united states? i hope now he isn't one of those who are lying across the river, where the german shells and bullets caught them." he glanced almost pityingly toward the place where the battery had been stationed, as though he had a personal interest in the gallant belgian gunner. thad was meanwhile watching the movements of those on the near side of the river. he could see how machine-like everything was carried on, the men with the stretchers coming to get their burdens, and then carrying them to the rear, where a temporary field hospital would undoubtedly be started. already a corps of engineers had come up, and men were seen out on the broken bridge, measuring the gap as though figuring on what would be required to mend the causeway so that the heavy artillery could move across, converging toward brussels. "they'll get across, all right, you can see," asserted allan, drawing a long breath, as though up to then he had been too fascinated to do more than gasp. "yes, but the belgians detained them," urged giraffe, "and that's their game, we understand. every hour that the kaiser can be held in belgium is life for france, because it gives time to get her men together. germany is the only country that has always been ready for such a thing as this. they expected to be in paris before the french woke up, and only for this delay nothing could have prevented them." "well, you wait till the britishers get over, and going good," said bumpus, with a wise nod of his head, "then you'll hear something drop." "yes," jeered giraffe, who was anti-british when he chose, and this was whenever he thought he could get up an argument with bumpus, "john bull will make a pretty loud crack when he falls, i should imagine. he'll find that these germans are a whole lot different from the boers or the kaffirs, or the arab slavers of africa." "oh, well!" said bumpus, "i'm coming to the conclusion that bravery isn't monopolized by any one nation on earth. look at the belgians for instance; could you beat the way they held that bridge till the last gasp and then blew the whole business sky-high with dynamite, and some germans with it?" thad had listened to what they were saying. he knew that it was no time for argument, for how could they tell but what some of those germans might come up the hill to see what sort of road it was, or else get a good view for miles around, and they would not want to be caught there. explanations might prove awkward, if the invaders chose to believe they had been giving the range by signal to the defenders of the bridge. "come, let's be getting away from here, boys," said thad. there was not a single objection, and rather white of face, as well as awed, the four scouts moved over to where the car stood awaiting them. a short time afterward they commenced to coast down the hill which only a little while back had been climbed with such painful penalties. and now that it was all over not one of them was sorry because of what he had witnessed that august morning. chapter xxi. the call for help. "giraffe, would you mind bending over and pinching me?" asked bumpus, sweetly, after they had been going on for a short time, leaving the watch-hill behind them, with all its dreadful memories. "sure i will, bumpus, as many times as you want me to. i'm the most accommodating fellow you ever knew, and i can give a nip equal to one of those dobsons we use for catching black bass in the good old summer time." giraffe evidently was as good as his word, for there was an immediate low screech from the fat chum. "hold on, giraffe, that's enough!" he hastened to exclaim. "you'll have me all black and blue if you keep that going. i'm sure of it now." "sure of what?" asked allan, chuckling, for this was not the first time he had seen this interesting little circus play come off between the two chums. "that i'm awake, and didn't just dream about that awful battle!" bumpus shuddered as though he had suddenly been taken with a chill that foretold a visitation of the ague or malaria. they knew from this that the sights he had recently witnessed must have made a tremendous impression on his mind, and would probably haunt him for many a long day. "i guess all of us feel pretty much the same way you do, bumpus," thad informed him. "we're sorry to have seen such sights, and yet glad at the same time. it was an opportunity that few american scouts could ever expect to have come their way. and if we could have done any good we'd have been only too glad of a chance to offer our services." "they'd have laughed at us if we'd risked it," asserted allan. "and like as not bundled us all into a dungeon for suspects," added giraffe, although he immediately added, "but say, did you ever see such dauntless bravery as those same germans showed when they marched straight up to that bridge, and every time a hole was torn in their ranks closed in as if on dress parade." "oh! i don't know," spoke up bumpus, "it struck me that handful of belgians showed the real stuff in the way of bravery, holding out with ten or twenty times their number against them. the german brand of courage seems to be different from some others i know of. they are parts of a big machine, and have to touch elbows when they fight." giraffe was up in arms at once, but thad poured oil on the troubled waters. "listen, giraffe," he said, "this is what bumpus means, and i've read the same thing more than once; even high german generals have admitted it. germans soldiers are not trained to take the initiative like our men and the french are. they are educated to obey orders as a unit, and a company of them will walk directly into the jaws of death with a courage that couldn't be beaten. but there's little of that hurrah and dash and single-handed work we're accustomed to associating with heroic actions." perhaps there was food for thought in what the scout leader said. giraffe may not have looked at matters in this light before. he became pensive as though revolving the theory over in his mind. then he broke the short silence by saying: "here's the fork of the road, thad, and we can make a start in the other direction. after all the longest way around is sometimes the quickest way to the fire. but for one i'm glad we took the other. i've seen a real battle, and that's talking some." there was good reason for thad to be thoughtful. troubles seemed to be multiplying as they proceeded. he was beginning to believe that young belgian gunner with whom giraffe had talked must have known what he was saying when he declared they had but one chance in three to get through the country that seemed to be a network of war trails, with hostile forces moving in every direction. secretly thad was rapidly coming to the conclusion that they would show their wisdom by turning back and making for the dutch border again. once in holland they could take a train for rotterdam, and in some way secure a passage to antwerp. the more he considered this the better it looked to him. he was even sorry now he had not insisted on such a course at the time they were across the border. in fact he had given up mostly on account of the plea advanced by bumpus, who after all was a poor one to make suggestions. so thad determined that should they meet with another backset, he was bound to put the matter before his chums in its true light. he knew he could count on the support of allan, and also that giraffe was open to conviction, even if a little set in his way. for a few miles the car moved along the second road fairly well, though thad was chagrined to find that he could not speed it up at all. "what ails the old shebang, thad?" demanded giraffe, impatiently, when it crawled along with sundry groanings and complainings. "it's tired out, and creaks in the joints, don't you know," said bumpus, with one of his old-time grins. "but shucks! we're on level ground right now, and she ought to spin along like fun!" mentioned giraffe, with a snort of disgust. "why, honest, i could keep out of your way walking, and never feel it. talk to me about an ice-wagon, this goes it one better. it's like those harvester engines we see creeping along the country roads up our way, slow but sure." "what do you figure can be the matter, thad?" asked allan. "i'm in a fog," came the reply. "the only thing i can think of is that some of that petrol we bought at double price is mighty poor stuff." "you mean it's been weakened to make it seem more," said giraffe. "i didn't know oil and water could be mixed, but mebbe these smart belgians have found a way to do it. and thad, now that you mention it i reckon you've about hit the right nail on the head." "well, there's nothing to be done," ventured allan; "so we'll have to grin and bear it. but let's hope we'll strike a chance before long to buy a new lot of gas, and this time get a decent quality with push in it." "yes," added giraffe, "just now it looks as if we had need of all the push going; in fact i was going to offer to step out and put my shoulder against the car to help along." "oh, you'll get all that pleasure right away," bumpus told him, "because i can glimpse another of those rises ahead there, and we'll never make a third of it under this low pressure, worse luck." just as he had prophesied they were compelled to work their passage to the top of the rise, though coasting down the other side with a fine burst of speed. about a mile beyond this point thad was noticed to listen attentively, and immediately work the car over to one side of the road. "something coming!" announced giraffe, "and listen to the row, will you? makes me think of a fire engine going on the run. but it's an automobile at that, believe me. give 'em all the room you can, thad, because, my word! they're coming to beat the band." already they could see the dust rising above the trees, and all sorts of vague speculations took form in the minds of the boys. then suddenly there burst into view a strange contraption, the like of which none of them had ever seen before. in one way it was a large car, but it had been boxed in with some sort of metal, so that it looked like a "battering ram," as giraffe declared afterwards. rushing at a rapid pace along the road it quickly reached the car and sped past. the staring scouts heard loud voices, and even saw waving hands over the top of the barricade. then it was lost to view in the cloud of dust. "whew! that's going some!" gasped giraffe. bumpus was coughing from the dust he had inhaled, but he managed to give expression to his astonishment in a few jerky sentences: "oh! whatever was that! i thought a goods van had skipped off the railroad track and was raging along the road. thad, can you guess it? please enlighten me. schew!" and he ended up in a tremendous sneeze. "yes, i think i know, though i never saw anything like it before," thad obligingly told him. "i remember reading that some belgian had been experimenting with what he called an armored motor-car, and which it was claimed would be a terror in war times. i think that must have been it." "well," admitted giraffe, scratching his head, "it was all of that, let me tell you. and thad, there was a hole in the armor plating on our side. that must be where they use the quick-firing gun that mows things down, just as the farmer cuts the wheat with his machine." "if that war engine struck a regiment of the enemy it would make holes in their ranks, all right," allan remarked, with a shake of his head. "i'm glad i saw it," ventured bumpus, "but they're sure a reckless lot aboard, from the way they rushed along this road." "it takes that sort of men to use an armored car, i should think," said thad. "they expect to drop down on the enemy wherever they can find him, and never stop to count heads, but just run the gantlet, firing as they go. if they're lucky, and get through without an accident, they go back home laughing over a good day's hunt." "this war is bound to show up some queer freaks," remarked allan. "now, d'ye know that armored car makes me think of the war chariots the ancient romans used, with sharp knives fastened to the wheels, and as they dashed through the crowded ranks of the goths and vandals these mowed them down. this scheme is only a little more up to date, that's all." "nothing new under the sun, when you come to look into things," declared bumpus. "this mad pace gives me a shiver," said giraffe. "as i didn't sleep good last night i think i'll cuddle down right here, and take a few winks. if anything exciting comes along just give me a jolt, will you, bumpus?" "it's more than likely to be a hill," was the reassuring answer returned by the stout chum. "all i'm hoping for now is that we strike a village pretty soon, where we can find some decent petrol for sale, and load up." "huh! one word for the petrol and two for your dinner," chuckled giraffe. "now, don't say anything more to me, bumpus, because i'm booked for a nap. the warm sunshine, the drone of the bees, the grunting of our elegant car, and a lot of other things combined make me feel _aw_-fully drowsy." he was really meaning it, too, for he had closed his eyes, and seemed about ready to let his senses slip away. bumpus looked down at him as though he might not object to a little of the same sweet slumber himself. with thad and allan on guard there could be no harm in giving way to this feeling. and should they come to one of those nuisances in the way of rises, which would stall the engine, of course all of them stood ready to drop out and do their duty. but it was not to be. they happened to be passing a small cottage just then. it sat back from the road, and there were flowers in the front yard, yes, and a well also. thad was almost tempted to stop and ask for a drink, but he thought better of it. further on, when they came to a town, and made an effort to secure a supply of petrol it would be time enough to think of quenching their thirst, aggravated by the dust they were forced to breathe most of the time. and it was at that instant they heard wild shrieks ring out, in a woman's voice. looking toward the cottage and half expecting to see it in flames they discovered a woman at the well. she was wringing her hands frantically, now leaning over to peer into the depths, and then rocking to and fro as if in the very abandon of grief over something. thad stopped the car instantly. both giraffe and bumpus were on their feet, and staring with might and main at the spot. "oh! whatever has happened?" the latter was exclaiming in horrified tones. "she acts like a child had fallen down the well!" chapter xxii. up from the depths. that must have been the thought flashing through the mind of each of the other three scouts. indeed, what else could they believe, after seeing the woman carrying on in such a wild way? giraffe made a flying leap out of the car, nor were the others far behind him. they all ran toward the cottage, and the kneeling woman, deeply impressed with the seriousness of the incident. their duty as scouts loomed up before them. unless it was already too late they must find some way to save the poor woman's child from a watery grave. giraffe was trying to understand what she was crying as the others came up, although from the frown on his face it was evident that he could not be meeting with any great success. "his name is benjy, boys," the tall scout exclaimed, "and he's down there in the well!" "oh! the poor little chap!" whimpered bumpus, as he watched the others throw themselves flat on their stomachs, and try to peer into the dark recesses of the gaping stone-bordered hole in the ground. "listen!" said thad, in a thrilling voice. "i can hear splashing down there!" "sure thing!" added giraffe, "which shows the child is alive still. that settles it with me. i'm the one to go down!" thad had already discovered that there was a windlass above the well. a stout rope was wound around the barrel of this, and the bucket could be seen standing on the other side on a stone shelf intended for the purpose. he knew that whatever was done there should be no more delay than was absolutely necessary. his first act therefore was to step around and release the bucket, at the same time grasping hold of the handle of the windlass. "put your feet on the bucket and hold on, giraffe," he told the adventurous one. "when you get down close to the water give one call. to lower a little more give two; and when you're ready to come up make it three. understand that?" "all right, thad; lower away!" bumpus was also peering over the edge into those mysterious depths. the woman was beside him, still wringing her hands in nervous anguish, and repeating that word "benjy" until it was so impressed on the memory of bumpus that he could never forget it. immediately giraffe disappeared from view, and all they could hear consisted of the creaking of the windlass, as thad lowered away, and the hysterical wailing of the woman belonging at the cottage. a dozen and more times had the handle gone around and thad began to wonder how deep that well could be. then suddenly he heard a cry. it welled up from the depths and sounded very weird, but thad knew this must be the signal he had arranged with giraffe, to indicate that the latter was close to the water. immediately there came two more calls, which meant that giraffe wished to be lowered a little further; thad accordingly allowed another turn of the handle, so as to release several more feet of the rope. a single cry announced that this was enough; and then a brief period of great suspense followed. they heard the dripping of water, accompanied by more or less splashing. "oh! i hope he hasn't fallen in himself!" bumpus was heard to say, with a long breath, as his overwrought feelings almost overpowered him. then came three calls. that was the signal for those above to draw up. allan was already at thad's side, and ready to bend the power of his young muscles to assist in the task, and together they made that windlass creak at a lively rate as they worked. bumpus was on his knees now. he acted as though a new fear oppressed his heart. what if the strain proved too great, and the rope parted--giraffe must be hurled back into the depths, and a tragedy would be presented to them. it was with the liveliest possible feeling of gratitude that bumpus finally saw the beloved face of his chum appear in view above the stone coping of the well. he was also struck with the fact that giraffe seemed to be grinning instead of having a serious expression on his thin countenance. allan put out a hand and assisted him to effect a landing on solid ground. meanwhile the woman had set up a renewal of her half shrieks bumpus could easily guess why this should be, for look as he might he could see no sign of a child! "where's poor little benjy, giraffe?" the fat scout demanded, half indignantly, for he could not understand what it all meant. then what did giraffe do but thrust a hand into the bosom of his splashed khaki coat and draw out the queerest _puppy_ bumpus had ever seen. he stared at the water-soaked little beast as though he thought he might be looking at something unreal. allan burst out into a shout, while the woman with a shriek of delight snatched little benjy from the hands of the one who had saved him, and kissed his doggy mouth again and again. giraffe stood there with that grin spreading across his face. he looked down at his wet feet and leggings. "think of me taking all that trouble for a fike not much bigger'n a postage stamp?" he presently exclaimed. "i guess the joke's on me this time, boys, so laugh all you're a mind to. i'm wet up to my knees, all right; but i got dear little benjy, didn't i?" thad clapped him on the shoulder. "after all there's not so much to laugh about, giraffe," he said, soberly. "we all thought benjy was a child, and you risked your life to save him. the motive is what counts every time; and i'm sure you did what any scout would be proud to own to; but we're glad it wasn't a child after all, for it would have been drowned." "i guess you're about right there, thad," the other admitted, "for you see the puppy could swim, which is what a child couldn't do. let's be going on again, fellows." "i thought i was thirsty," said bumpus, "but i guess i can wait till we come to a well that isn't used for a swimming tank by dogs." the woman seeing them moving off tried to thank them for having saved her little pet. of course not being able to talk french the boys could not understand just what she said, though they caught the meaning, and nodded their heads accordingly. once they were going they found occasion to laugh again and again as different remarks were made concerning features connected with the adventure. giraffe laughed louder than any one else. he said he no longer felt sleepy, and that he believed it would be better for him to sit with his feet in the sun so as to dry off. half an hour afterwards it was found that they were once more approaching what seemed to be a bridge. remembering the tragic occurrences that had taken place at that other crossing of the river the boys naturally felt more or less anxiety as to what they might run across here. "it's guarded, as sure as anything," said giraffe, who had stretched his long neck in order to give those keen eyes of his a better chance to see. "yes, and by belgian soldiers in the bargain, sure pop. i can tell by their uniforms." "i hope they won't think of stopping us from crossing," said bumpus. as they drew nearer to the bridge they saw several men in blue uniforms, and wearing high-peaked hats, holding their guns in a significant manner as though giving plain warning that access to the bridge was forbidden. thad felt from this that they were doomed to meet with a disappointment. he stopped the car close to the guard. to the surprise of the boys one of the soldiers, evidently guessing their nationality from the little flags which they still wore fastened to their coats, addressed them in very good english. "it is not possible for you to cross the bridge!" was what he said. "we are hoping to reach antwerp, where this boy has a sick mother who needs him," thad explained, laying a hand on bumpus's shoulder as he spoke. the soldier shook his head in the negative. "no car can cross the bridge after this; it would not be safe, and would spoil all our plans for a trap," he went on to say. "but couldn't you make an exception in our case?" asked bumpus, trying to throw all the pathos possible into his voice. again the soldier shook his head. "it is impossible," he said, in a manner that would admit of no further argument. "you must turn and follow the river road to the west. there is another small bridge six miles that way, not strong enough for guns to be moved over, but you might get across. i hope you reach antwerp safely." "we happened to see the fight at the other bridge, and watched when it was in the end blown up," giraffe ventured to say, at which the other's face lighted up and just as giraffe knew would be the case he cried out: "tell us what happened there, for we have been wondering what all the sounds of fighting in that direction meant. but we have had no word up to now." accordingly thad, assisted by the others at intervals, related some of the stirring sights they had seen while on the watch-hill a mile or more distant from the battlefield at the bridge. the three belgians listened eagerly, and while two of the guard might not fully understand what was said, they caught enough to feel that their comrades had won new honor by their gallant defense of the bridge, and its ultimate destruction when defense was no longer possible. "thank you very much for giving us such splendid news," said the soldier who spoke english, as he thrust out a hand to thad; "and in return i may let you into a secret that will explain why you cannot cross here. this bridge had been weakened so that it is apt to fall when any weight is put on it. even your car might be sufficient to bring about the catastrophe. we are hoping it will go down with the first detachment of raiding uhlans that comes this way. our duty is to fire on them and get them to charge. if twenty go down with the bridge so much the better." of course thad realized that all thought of crossing there must be abandoned. he saw that a road ran along the river, and by taking this they would after a bit come to the small bridge which was recommended for their notice. so the boys started, making up their minds that, as giraffe said, "you never know what's best for you; and after all our going this way may turn out to be just splendid." "if it'd only throw us in the way of getting a new supply of petrol i'd ask nothing better," remarked allan. "it's getting pretty near high noon too, don't forget," said bumpus, significantly; "and human beings have to be fed as well as cranky old engines. i ought to have asked that accommodating fellow whether there was any village on the bank of the river down this way. seems to me there must be. anyhow we could try every house we struck, and see if some lady wouldn't get us up a dinner for ready cash." "one thing i think we might do," suggested thad; "that's lay in something at the very next chance. i mean food to cook, together with several pans, and a pot to boil coffee in. then we'd feel independent of any inn; and if overtaken by night could get on fairly well." bumpus expressed delight at the idea. "i think it's a great scheme, thad!" he declared, with beaming face; "and really i'm surprised that none of us have thought of that dodge before. we've got plenty of room aboard the old machine to stow things; and for my part it's going to bring up heaps of happy memories of by-gone days and nights, when we've sat around a jolly camp fire with our mates." "then that settles it," decided the scout leader. "and, thad," called out giraffe, after one of his observations, "unless all signs are wrong we're going to have a chance to get some dinner, and p'r'aps lay in all those stores, because there's a village ahead of us." "that eagle eye of yours is correct as usual, giraffe," said allan, after taking a look for himself. chapter xxiii. "a tempest in a teapot." bumpus seemed to scent more trouble ahead. "now i certainly do hope we'll be able to get what we want here at this place," he went on to remark, dubiously. "so few of these belgians in this section of the country understand plain united states as she is spoken. we'll have to make use of signs to bargain with them for our grub." thereupon bumpus began to practice what he imagined was a good idea for showing he was hungry, and wanted to buy food. he rubbed his stomach, sighed heavily, then pointed to his open mouth and champed his jaws vigorously, after which he smiled sweetly, and, with a nod of his head, held up a franc. "oh! you'll be able to satisfy anybody going that your proper place is in an asylum, bumpus, if you carry on that way," jeered giraffe; "you leave it all to thad and allan and me. we have the goods, and can deliver them. they're all wool and a yard wide, let me tell you, too." so the car entered the village, and pulled up in the most likely place the pilot could see. this was where there seemed to be some sort of open-air market, with all manner of things good to eat exposed for sale. their coming of course excited considerable interest. people began to cluster around the car as soon as it stopped. curious eyes observed the inmates, with their natty khaki uniforms. of course there were few among them but who realized that these lads must be boy scouts, but they seemed to understand immediately that they were not of the belgian type. the boys jumped out and started to try and find some one who could understand what they desired to do. bumpus alone was left sitting there in the car, and he amused himself looking around. when he thought his chums were well out of sight he concluded to try his little scheme; so taking a coin from his pocket he held it up and began his grotesque motions. at first the crowd seemed to watch him in wonder. then they began to say things among themselves, and smile. after that some of the half-grown boys laughed rudely, and began to mimic poor bumpus. this humiliated him so that he stopped his show, realizing that they were beginning to look on him as some sort of circus performer, perhaps a hokus-pokus medicine fakir on his travels, and trying to gather a crowd around before opening his box of goods for sale. meanwhile the other boys were trying to find some one who could talk english, in order to engage a midday meal, and later on purchase what supplies they needed. thad noticed almost immediately that there was a scarcity of able-bodied men in the river village. he knew the reason, because every one capable of bearing arms had been hurried to the front to try and resist the invaders. women, old men, cripples, and children of all sizes made up the population of the place, and thad really believed the entire village must have come out of doors to size up the strangers within their gates. although at the time he did not imagine any harm could come of their separating, thad afterwards wished he had insisted on the other two keeping with him. if that had been done possibly they would have been saved from more or less inconvenience, not to use a harsher term. the patrol leader had just managed to locate what looked like a sort of tavern where possibly they could make arrangements for a dinner, if they waited until it could be prepared, when he saw part of the crowd heaving in a strange way. at the same time loud angry voices began to reach his ears. allan was hurrying towards him from another direction, as though he too had noticed the upheaval and considered it best that they consolidate their forces. "it must be giraffe who's gone and gotten himself into trouble some way or other," allan was saying hurriedly as he joined thad. "we'll soon know," added the other, "because they're pushing this way now. yes, and there's giraffe in the lead too. see him brush off the hands of those women and boys. they look excited enough to tear him to pieces! this is a bad job, i'm afraid." "what can have happened to cause it?" said allan, glancing back uneasily toward the car, and finding that it was near at hand, with the alarmed bumpus already standing up to observe what was going on. "i'm afraid," said thad, hurriedly, "giraffe has been unwise enough in trying to make himself understood to air his german, and that's made these people suspect we may be spies sent on ahead of the army to get the lay of the land, and learn where they're hiding all their valuables and wine." in another minute giraffe came hurrying up. he was looking disturbed, and a little white of face, though his teeth were clenched, and there was an ominous glitter in his eyes. "what's all the row about, giraffe?" asked thad, though he had to speak much louder than ordinary on account of the noise made by the increasing mob. boys were whooping, women shrieking and chattering as they shook their fists toward the four strangers, and taken in all the prospect was decidedly stormy. no wonder bumpus was rubbing his chubby hands together, and staring with open mouth at the "tempest in a teapot." "i don't know what ails the sillies!" cried giraffe, indignantly. "i was trying my best to make them understand that we wanted a dinner and to buy some food. one fellow turned around and shouted something to the others. then they began to flock about me like people at a county fair do when the snake-charmer comes out of the side-show to give an exhibition with her scaly pets. say, they even tried to lay hands on me but i shook 'em off!" "look here," said thad, sternly, "did you try any of your german on them?" demanded thad. giraffe wilted at once. "why, yes, i own up i did, thad!" he confessed. "you see i thought some of them might be able to understand the language, and i bet you they do too; but whee! they acted mad at me. i never thought my german was as rank as that." "don't you understand that german is in bad favor through belgium just now? those who do speak it are trying to forget all they know. when strangers drop into a belgian village and talk it, with the kaiser's army only a few miles away, it's only natural they suspect us. now i've got to try like everything to set things right." so saying thad turned to the shouting crowd, and held up his hand. somehow there was something about the boy to inspire confidence. the yelling and jeering gradually died down. several old men cowed the boys and the women. possibly they told them to give the stranger a chance to explain. "is there any one here who talks english?" called out thad. at that an old man pushed his way forward through the crowd. judging from the deference shown him by the others he must be a person of considerable importance in this humble little village on the river. "i do, young m'sieu," he said. "i lived in london some years, and learned the language. what is it you desire to say?" thad smiled. he knew now he would be able to convince these good people that far from being german spies or even sympathizers, he and his chums were deeply concerned over the threatened fate of poor little belgium, in danger of being made the battleground for warring neighbors. "we are american boy scouts," he started to say. "we have been traveling through the country, and had just made a trip down the rhine when we heard that war had broken out. one of my friends has a sick mother in antwerp. we are trying our best to make our way to her. we bought this old car to help us along. when we get to our journey's end we expect to turn it over to the authorities, if they can make any use of it." "but why does this young m'sieu speak the hated language?" asked the old man, looking straight at giraffe. "he learned it in school, and thought some one might be able to understand him," continued the scout leader. "he was asking where we could buy some dinner, and then a few supplies afterwards. that is all. it was not wise for him to expose his knowledge of german, but the very fact that he did so proves he meant no wrong. see, we have our passports to prove who we are." the old man came closer, to look the documents over. thad just then felt glad to remember that he had concealed in the lining of his hat the paper given him by the german aviator whose life they had saved. it might have been very unpleasant for the boys had this been found on his person. besides the passports thad exhibited several letters he had received from across the water since coming abroad. allan and giraffe also contributed their quota to this display. it really had more influence on the old villager than the official documents, which might be false after all, but he knew those stamps and post-marks must be the genuine thing. the old man turned and talked to the crowd. evidently what he said impressed the assemblage, for their angry looks gave way to others of a more genial nature, though some of the half-grown boys continued to get their heads together, and confer mysteriously, as they looked at the car with bumpus in it. "here is the proprietor of the inn," said their friend, the old villager, who had once worked at his trade in the great city across the channel. "he has promised to supply you with dinner in half an hour. if you wish to buy anything you are at liberty to do so. but i would not leave the car alone, for something might happen to it." thad told giraffe to get in along with bumpus while he and allan made what purchases they had in mind. as fast as these were secured, which was only after more or less argument in the deaf and dumb alphabet, the boys carried the things to the car and stowed them away. bumpus saw that in the end they were well supplied with enough food to last several meals, as well as a tin pail in which they could boil coffee. as the half hour was now about up they took the car into the inn-yard, and thad meant to keep an eye on it if possible while they ate their dinner. this was rendered possible because he sat where he could look out of an open window; but after all nothing out of the way happened. the boys noticed that there had been a bridge at this place, but it seemed to have been destroyed by some flood, for a new one was under construction, though only partly built, and of no use at that time. this of course necessitated their going further along the river road until they arrived at the small bridge of which they had been told by the belgian soldiers some time before. there was no fault to be found with their meal. even bumpus admitted that it tasted good, and was in abundance. so the four scouts arose with a feeling of satisfaction, and thad settled the account. it is not a very hard matter to pay bills, even when two parties are unable to speak each other's language, for signs and the sight of money go a long way toward settlement. as they passed out thad saw their old friend beckoning to him. "get in the car, fellows, and i'll join you as soon as i've had a few words with the old chap, and thanked him heartily for his friendly act," said the leader. a few minutes afterwards he came hurrying toward them, and when giraffe saw the way thad's brows were knitted he knew some new trouble was in store for them. "what's coming next, thad?" he asked, and if any one had taken the pains to look beneath the surface they might have found an undercurrent of satisfaction in the tones of the tall scout. "our good old friend has warned me that a parcel of the rougher boys of the village have started out, meaning to waylay us, and take our car away. he says they've got an idea we've no business riding around when their military authorities need every sort of motor car they can get. and that's how the land lies, boys!" chapter xxiv. the ambuscade. "well, here's a nice kettle of fish!" burst out bumpus, fixing his eyes on the scout leader, as though mentally asking what thad meant to do. the actions of giraffe spoke louder than words could have done. with a really wicked grin he reached down and took something in his hand which it seemed he had stowed away in the body of the car. it was a club almost the size of a baseball bat, one of those home-run kind boys talk about, and call "the old wagon-tongue." "say, i had a sort of hunch this would come in handy sooner or later, and now i know it!" giraffe muttered, with a shake of his head. "but what do you suppose this means, thad?" asked allan, with a puzzled look on his face. "i always understood these belgian boys were well-behaved chaps, and the last ones in the world to do a thing like this. if we were in some town across in our own country it wouldn't seem so strange." "stop and think for a minute what's happening here in belgium this very day," said thad. "a million germans have overrun the country, and every belgian capable of bearing arms is hurrying to the battle line. of course the boys are worked up to fever heat. you all saw how they acted when that mob surrounded us. they're not the same well-behaved boys they were two weeks ago. the excitement has settled in their brains." "but, thad, that doesn't mean we've got to hand them over the old car, does it?" asked bumpus. "certainly not," he was assured. "will we have to turn back again so as to keep from having a row?" continued the fat scout, anxiously. "well, i should hope not," burst out giraffe, angrily. "i'd be willing to turn back before the majesty of the whole german army, but i'll be hanged if i want to knuckle down to a pack of kids. if you ask my opinion there it is, straight goods!" "there's another thing," said thad, "that i think has had some influence on these boys, or given them the idea of holding us up." he pointed to a fence across from the inn-yard. it had some gaudy bills pasted on it, which apparently none of the others had noticed before, though taught to use their eyes as scouts on every occasion. "why, those look mighty familiar!" said bumpus. "what's this?" cried giraffe. "a regular american wild west show over here in belgium, raking in the coin this last summer? thad, if that gave an exhibition here, or anywhere close by, i can understand what you mean. the kids must have been practicing throwing the rope, and holding up stages ever since. yes, by george! that's where they get this idea from, as sure as anything." "after all, the world is getting smaller all the time," remarked allan, "when you can find such pictures as those thousands of miles away from home. before long it may be all japan, china and india will be looking at our cowboys perform, and the indians hold up stage coaches." "oh! they do that already," thad told him; "for the moving pictures are being shown all around the world. but i've got an idea. wait here for me, fellows." with that the scout leader hurried away, leaving the trio to talk matters over, and trying to guess what he had in view. a short time later thad reappeared, with a little package in his hand. "i just happened to notice some whips for sale at a store in the place," he explained, "and i've bought several. if we're forced to we'll use them on those boys the best we know how. the old man told me they were the bad lot of the village, so you see they do have them even over in belgium." "how that takes me back to dear old cranford," sighed bumpus, "where we used to have all manner of times with brose griffin and his cronies, eli bangs and walt hopkins. so they have a rowdy element here too, do they? thad, i hope you didn't forget me when laying in that stock of cowhides?" "three covered the entire stock they had," the other told him; "and so giraffe will have to depend on that club of his; only i hope he uses it carefully. it's big and heavy enough to floor anybody." giraffe nodded, and smiled. "oh! i'll be on the watch not to knock the poor chaps silly, if they take warning, and clear out," he remarked, as he hid the article in question away, but in a place where it could be quickly seized. it was in anything but a pleasant humor that thad prepared to leave the village where they had been hospitably entertained, after that first little misunderstanding. he did not like this idea of meeting the attack of the belgian boys with violence, but there seemed to be no other way, for the old man had declined to ride out with them, saying that he did not wish to be connected at all with the matter, and considered his duty done in giving them due warning. thad was really under the impression that he would not be sorry if the boys received some sort of drubbing to pay them for their audacity in treating strangers in the way they intended. there was no choice about the route; it was necessary that they go up or down the river, since no other road led away from the place. of course across the river there was one they would have been glad to have taken, only with the bridge gone it was not possible to get the car over. "somebody waving his hand to us, thad, over there at that cottage window," observed the watchful giraffe. "i think it must be our old friend," said thad, as he made haste to answer the signal. "yes, i can see his face now, and his gray beard." they passed out of the village, with the people simply looking after them, for all signs of resentment had apparently died out. these good folks had too many serious troubles of their own to think of hunting up new ones. "i wonder how far we'll get before they jump out at us?" that was bumpus trying to secure an opinion. it was one of his ways of fishing for what he called "a rise." and as usual giraffe hastened to accommodate him. "oh! not far, you can depend on it, bumpus," he said, "because they haven't been gone long, and would have to tramp it. i reckon now they'd just want to get say half a mile or so outside the place, so the racket they kick up won't reach the ears of their folks here." "undo the package, allan," said thad, with a business-like air. this being done disclosed three stout whips of the type often spoken of as "cowhides." bumpus immediately took possession of one, and seemed to be as tickled as a child with a new toy. "they're just prime stuff, thad," he asserted. "course i've never dusted any fellow's jacket with such a thing, and i don't hanker after the job now; but what has to be can't be helped. i'll promise you to do my level best to sting their legs, for that's the best way, i take it." giraffe looked at the whips rather enviously. possibly he almost felt sorry he had displayed that ferocious club so hastily; only for that he might have been given one of the cowhides to manipulate, instead of bumpus. they had by this time left the village behind them. the river lay on their left, and the further bank was not very far away. thad was watching the road in advance, as though mentally figuring on where they would run across the ambuscade planned by these bellicose belgian boys. "there's some sort of a turn i can see up yonder, thad," ventured giraffe, with his neck stretched in his favorite manner when sighting things, and which peculiarity had given him his queer nick-name. "yes, it's a bend, all right," added allan. "just around a place like that would offer a fine chance to jump out on us, i'd think," suggested giraffe. he was bending down while speaking, and taking hold of his cudgel as though intending to be ready when the call to duty came. "listen," said thad, impressively. "i'll stop the car the very second they come in sight. the chances are they'll have the road blocked in some way, so as to prevent our getting past. then when i give the word everybody get out in a hurry, and meet their rush with the liveliest business you know how." "he didn't say how many there were in this bunch, did he, thad?" asked bumpus. "no, and i forgot to ask him," came the reply. "that's the way with scouts always," said giraffe, pompously. "when danger comes along a scout shouldn't say, 'how many are there of the enemy,' but just shout out, 'where are they, so i can get busy?'" "half a dozen or ten, it doesn't matter," said allan, "we're primed to scatter them like chaff before the wind. remember they are bringing all this trouble down on their own silly heads. it isn't any of our choosing." it was in this resolute spirit then that they approached the bend in the river road, around which they fully expected to find trouble lurking. bumpus was so tremendously excited that he actually seemed to be holding his breath. his blue eyes were round, and staring at that curve in the road now dreadfully near; and if the hand that gripped that tough cowhide trembled it was from nervous tension, not fear. apparently all was calm and peaceful about that spot. not a single sign of anything unusual could the four scouts detect as they came close to the bend. doubtless watchful eyes had noted their coming, and the news had been duly conveyed to those who were in hiding, so that they would know when to commence operations. now the car had reached the turn and was commencing to negotiate it. whatever was in store for the chums it could not be longer delayed. still, so far as they could see after swinging around the curve, the road was perfectly clear of all manner of obstacles, which fact rather surprised giraffe, who had evidently anticipated discovering a log thrown in such a way as to completely barricade the thoroughfare. "why, they don't seem to be here after all, thad!" he exclaimed. giraffe spoke just a second too soon. in fact hardly had the last word left his lips when there was something doing just ahead of them. a shrill whistle sounded, and at that the bushes on both sides of the road seemed to be alive with leaping figures. some seven or eight boys had been concealed there, and now hurried out on the road. some of them carried branches, others stones, and still more hastened to throw a half-rotten log across the road, effectually blocking it for the passage of a vehicle, especially a car. thad was ready for just this sort of thing. he instantly shut off the power and there was no trouble whatever in coaxing the car to come to a complete standstill--there never was any complaint along this score, all the anxiety being in the other direction. immediately the belgian boys rushed to surround the car. their actions were very threatening, for they shouted, and waved their arms, and several even had sticks with which they cut the air venomously. perhaps they expected that the four boys in khaki would just naturally throw up their hands in the same way the actors in the american show had done when the road-agents were robbing the stage coach. it was a mistake, and those belgian lads discovered this for themselves before five more seconds had passed. instead of displaying a willingness to yield without any struggle the strangers immediately started in to "rough house" it in the most approved fashion. "go for 'em!" shouted giraffe, as he made a leap over the side of the car, just as furiously as he had many a time in the past accomplished a "flying tackle" in battling for his school colors on the gridiron. the others were not far behind him, even clumsy bumpus displaying unwonted agility in bouncing out of the car, rawhide in hand. chapter xxv. the scouts' camp fire. it was certainly pretty lively while it lasted. giraffe, who liked excitement must have felt quite in his element when turning the tables on those plotting belgian boys who had figured in taking their car away from them, so as to offer it to the government, just then so sadly in need of transportation facilities. however laudable their ambition may have been thad and his three friends were determined that they would block the game. with this purpose in view they commenced to spring a pretty surprise on their assailants. the three who wielded the whips started to flay the legs of the ambushing force, and immediately the shouts that had been intended to intimidate the scouts began to change their tune and become yells. giraffe, too, was swinging that club with his old-time vigor. true, he had no particular animosity against these native boys who thought they were only doing a patriotic duty; but giraffe believed he had a right to fight for his property, and he claimed a quarter interest in that car, miserable affair though it was. had the belgian boys been equipped with the same type of weapons as thad and his chums it might have been a longer battle, for they would probably given as good as they took. since the advantage was all on one side, save in numbers, the end was a foregone conclusion. some of the astonished boys started to run, then came back and took a second generous dose, before concluding that the game was up. a signal was finally given which must have been the recall, for immediately the wielders of the whips and the club found their occupation gone, since their adversaries had retreated in hot haste. thad saw that they darted into the brush, and suspected their main object was to secure some sort of fighting material for themselves, after which they would likely return to the attack. he did not want any more of that rough and tumble sort of scramble if it could be avoided; and a quick "getaway" was the one thing needful in such a case. "clear the road!" he called out, suiting his actions to his words by jumping forward to seize hold of the log, which with a few adroit turns he sent spinning into the ditch. the others hastened to do their share, and in less time than it takes to tell it a passage had been made through the barricade. "that's enough!" called thad, giving his orders with the precision of a military commander; "now get aboard, for we're going to start off!" bumpus had been expecting something like this. knowing his faculty for lagging he was already "legging" it for the car when thad spoke. thus he managed to clamber aboard in good time, and fall on his knees inside the tonneau of the car. giraffe came flying after him, landing almost on his back; but a little thing like that was not to be noticed when the main object had been accomplished. they had managed to get rid of their tormentors for the time being, and this gave thad a chance to start the engine. there was fortunately no need of cranking, and hardly had allan clutched hold of the car to swing himself aboard when it was moving off. "duck your heads, everybody; they're going to bombard us with stones!" shouted giraffe, as a missile struck the back of the car with a bang. several came aboard, and one by some freak of fortune took bumpus square in the back, causing him to give a loud grunt, though he declared it was nothing to bother about. the fusillade continued until the car, increasing its momentum, managed to draw so far away that the stones fell short. when this became a certainty giraffe, looking back, told them the belgian boys had given up the pursuit. "ha! guess that was a case of the biter bitten!" said giraffe, assuming all the airs of a victor expecting to be crowned with the laurel wreath; although if the question had been actually put to him he must have admitted that three other fellows had also had a "finger in the pie." "we got out of the scrape better than i thought we would," said bumpus, "when i saw how many of them there were. giraffe, you're a good friend of mine, ain't you? would you mind rubbing me in the middle of the back? please not _quite_ so hard, for you see that rock gave me a bit of a clump there, and raised a knob, i guess." "i'm wondering what's going to strike us next," ventured allan; "for when you come to look at it we've been having some of the queerest adventures on this trip that ever could have happened." bumpus shook his head as though he might be ready to pass the puzzle along. "it's too deep for me, allan," he said. "i'd think we'd pretty nearly exhausted the whole list by now, but still there may be more coming. it's making me believe we're fated not to get through with this car, after all, and that we'll soon run up against a snag so big that it'll sink our craft." "so long as we don't go down with it i won't kick," asserted giraffe, who seemed to be feeling much more cheery since that last little exciting affair. "and bumpus, after all what does it matter how you get to antwerp so long as you pull up there sooner or later?" "oh! i'm getting reconciled to almost anything," admitted bumpus, showing that this constant series of happenings was beginning to have an effect on even his stubborn nature, just as water dripping constantly will wear away a stone in the course of time. thus talking they moved speedily along the river road until finally giraffe announced he had sighted the bridge over which they hoped to be able to cross the stream, and head once more for the big city on the schelde. there were some belgian soldiers on guard here also, possibly older men who had not expected to go to the front, yet had a certain line of duty to perform in this the latest crisis of their beloved country's history. just as thad expected they had to stop and give an account of themselves, as well as show their passports, and the letters with the american stamps. they were again lucky in having one of the belgians able to talk with them, for it turned out that he had been in america, and even asked them how hoboken was getting along. satisfied with being permitted to cross the bridge and pursue their journey the four scouts waved good-bye to the guards and started on. "well, that was a hard river to cross let me tell you," said giraffe after they reached the other side. "just stop and think how many times we've been knocked out of our calculations. there was the battle we saw that blocked us; then the bridge that had been fixed to trap some of the raiding uhlans when they came galloping along, and tried to rush things; after that there was the one that was being built in the village, and which of course we couldn't use; and at last we struck oil up here, many miles out of our way." "seems to me we've been pushing backwards part of the time, thad, instead of advancing," ventured bumpus. "makes me think of the boy who was late to school and told the teacher that every time he took a step forward he slipped back two; and when the teacher asked him how he ever managed to get there he said he just turned around and headed the other way; so mebbe that's what we're doing. where do you figure we are now, thad?" "as near as i can find out," replied the scout leader, "we're not far from the town called moll, which is on the railroad. there's a canal somewhere nearby, that swings around to the city of turnhout, and then still on to antwerp. i should say that we're not more than seven miles or so from the dutch border." "and how far from antwerp?" asked bumpus, anxiously. "as the crow flies not more than thirty miles, perhaps," thad explained; "but the way things are upset here in belgium, that stands for hard sledding." "here's the canal right now, after we cross the railroad," ventured giraffe, to whom it was all getting very interesting. "but the sun is going down before a great while, you notice," said bumpus, because they had been held up for nearly two hours while thad tinkered with that horrible engine again, and deemed himself lucky to get it started even then. "yes, and as we've settled on staying outdoors to-night," said allan, "let's be on the watch for a decent place to make camp." "just think of our having a chance to do that over here in belgium, with battles going on all around us," giraffe remarked. "we'll make those other scouts turn green with envy when we relate all our adventures on this trip. it was fine enough coming down the rhine, but then nothing queer happened to us like we've been up against the last few days." a short time later they struck what looked like an ideal place for stopping overnight. just here there were no houses in sight, though of course the boys did not know what lay beyond, perhaps a village or a town. belgium is so thickly populated that very little ground is allowed to remain idle, or be planted in trees, but just here there was a strip of woods that had a most inviting look. so the car was run in and they started to make themselves comfortable, as scouts of long experience might be expected to do when surrounded by similar conditions. "i hope that when we're just sitting down to supper, after cooking the same," bumpus remarked, pensively, "some old gruff belgian farmer doesn't come hurrying up, complaining because we've trespassed on his property, and making us clear out bag and baggage." to bumpus that represented the sum total of depravity; it meant a catastrophe without limit, and something to cause a shudder, even in the bare contemplation; for it meant hunger, and that was always a calamity in his eyes. "not much danger," allan told him, "because you may have noticed i'm making this fire small, and out of extra-dry stuff. scouts know that if you take green wood you'll always get a smoke that can be seen far off. that's what we use it for when we want to communicate by smoke signals. but bumpus, if you were fifty feet away i don't think you could notice smoke from this wood." "but i warrant you he could sense cooking going on, all right," giraffe laughingly observed. "you never can fool bumpus on that. he can scent an onion frying half a mile away, can't you, bumpus?" "i couldn't deny the soft impeachment, for i know i've got a splendid nose for grub," admitted the good-natured scout. although the means for cooking supper were somewhat primitive because these boys had always been accustomed to having a full kit along with them, still they knew how to manage. consequently in good time, just as it was getting dusk, the meal was pronounced ready, and all of them gathered around to share in its disposal, a duty that no one ever complained of. they were hungry, and somehow the familiar odors seemed to give an edge to their appetites that nothing else had done. for a little while talking ceased, because every one was too busily engaged to bother making any remark. then as the edge was taken off their appetites they commenced to exchange comments on the doings of that particular day, which could always be marked with a white stone in their memories. suddenly and without the slightest warning there came a terrific sneeze that startled them all. it came from the bushes close at hand, that much even bumpus knew. of course every eye was turned in that direction, being focussed on a certain spot where the bushes seemed to be moving. as they stared, hardly knowing what to expect, there arose the lanky form of a man. he made no hostile move, but stood there looking at them; and bumpus even fancied he was sniffing the air, just as a half-starved dog might, when approaching the spot where a feast was being devoured. "don't shoot, gents!" this singular being called out. "i'm not dangerous at all, only as hungry as a wolf. from what i've heard you saying i opine that you're american the same as myself; and i'm sure hoping you'll invite me up to join you in a snack." chapter xxvi. a tattooed fugitive. thad did not wait to consult his chums on hearing what the forlorn figure standing amidst the bushes said; he knew they would back him up in his generous impulse. "if you are an american you'll be doubly welcome here," he called out; "but no matter where you came from, if you're hungry we've got plenty and to spare. step this way and join us!" the man did not hesitate after that warm invitation, but hustled forward. they looked curiously at him, and no wonder, for he was apparently no ordinary individual. his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow and it could be seen that his arms were fairly covered with the most wonderful colored tattoo marks imaginable. really it looked like the work of an artist in this line; and bumpus, who had never gazed upon such a sight stared as though the other were a curiosity. it turned out that this was just what he was, and thad suspected it the first thing he discovered those tell-tale marks. "you see," said the stranger, as he joined the scouts, "i'm the wonderful tattooed man of the great circus and wild west show that has been exhibiting in belgium this summer. we got caught when the war broke out so suddenly. our boss told every one to look out for himself or herself, and with that the whole show went to smash. the last i saw of our injuns they were being herded up by the authorities of the town where we separated. they were afraid they'd start on the warpath, and scalp everybody, i guess." "sit down here on this log," said allan, "and we'll help you to some coffee and whatever we've got. it's lucky we cooked much more than we needed. i think bumpus and giraffe must have expected company, or else overrated their own appetites." "bumpus and giraffe sound good to me!" declared the tall stranger, as he looked with a smile at the two boys designated; "somehow hearing those names gives me a feeling that i'm still with the big show. but i want to tell you it's a piece of great luck for me to meet up with you boys. to look for americans over here is as bad as hunting a needle in a haystack." "then you've been having a hard time, i take it?" remarked thad, as he heaped a pan with food and turned it over to their unexpected guest. "hard!" echoed the other. "i'm thankful to be alive, and outside of a dungeon to-night. and what d'ye think it all comes from but my name." "what might that be?" asked giraffe. "the worst any poor man marooned in belgium or france could own up to right now," replied the other; "it's kaiser!" "oh! my stars!" ejaculated bumpus. "i should say so; and you couldn't change it, i suppose?" "i'd been billed under my own name as the greatest freak alive, the man whose body was decorated with more dragons and flags and pretty girls than anything ever seen before. yes, and until a week ago i was proud of that name of kaiser. now it threatens to be the death of me." he groaned a little, and then started to eating voraciously. after a while, when he had seemingly taken the sharp edge off his appetite, he condescended to explain further, knowing of course that his kind entertainers must be curious to hear his story. "you see, they know me all over belgium by now. crowds would stand and stare at me, and try to ask questions. the boss had to keep an interpreter nearby to answer these. some of them were terribly foolish. it even seemed to many of these simple people that i was in some way connected by blood with kaiser wilhelm; and fool that i was, i never bothered correcting that silly idea. bitterly have i repented that mistake. it has cost me dearly." "after the circus disbanded and you had to shift for yourself," remarked thad, "i suppose you thought to get out of the country before the fighting began?" "well, at first i wasn't in any hurry," came the reply, with a shrug of the bony shoulders of the side-show freak. "when i did wake up and get busy it was just too late. you see the people remembered that i was a kaiser, and they had it in for me. oh! what i have suffered. turned back one day, kicked out of a town the next, threatened with prison, and doors shut in my face when i tried to beg or buy something to eat, i've lived the life of a dog for days." "well, that was too bad," said the kind-hearted bumpus; "here, let me fill your tin cup again with coffee, mr. kaiser." "please don't mention that name again above a whisper, while we're in belgium," pleaded the other. "it's just like showing a red flag to a mad bull. call me bob, if you feel like it, boys. i'll come to any name these days, especially if there's a feed like this goes with it." "what are you aiming to do next?" asked thad. "i'm heading north the best i can," he explained. "when after being kicked and cuffed around i found that it was useless to hope to get to antwerp where i might steam over to england, i knew that the next best thing for me to do was to cross into the netherlands, where they wouldn't abuse me on account of my name." "but are you a german?" asked giraffe. "i was born in the good old united states," replied the freak. "i believe my ancestors did come from the fatherland, but to tell you the truth i haven't a bit of german feeling in me. i'm yankee to the backbone. i ran away as a boy, and have knocked about the four corners of the world, principally in the far east, where all this wonderful tattoo work was done for me, a little at a time. when i'm done eating i'll let you see what my body looks like. i'm told that there's nothing like it known." "do you like being a freak?" asked bumpus, innocently. the man looked at him and smiled. every one liked bumpus from the first, because there was something so candid and sincere about him. you could look straight into those blue eyes of his and believe that there was no hypocrisy or deceit lurking back of their depths. "well, son, i do and i don't," the other finally replied. "i know now i was a fool to get this done, but once it was started, there could be no rubbing it out, you understand, because it's picked in with indelible colors. it gets me a living by exhibiting myself, and people do lots of mighty queer things for that, in their journey through this old world." "but if you had the chance again would you allow it to be done?" asked giraffe, who himself had an anchor in blue upon his arm, of which he had been rather proud in the past. "not if i was in my right senses," came the prompt reply. "to tell you the truth the first tattooing i had was given to me against my will when i was held a prisoner among some wild men in borneo. they thought my white skin was a good background to display the art of their boss tattooer. later on the crazy idea came to me to have it continued, and then join some show. i think with what little money i've got saved over in philadelphia i'll buy a farm and settle down, if only i'm lucky enough to get out of this war-cursed country alive." later on the fugitive circus freak did let the boys look him over, and all of them united in declaring that he certainly was a wonderful exhibition of the art of tattooing in bright colors. giraffe mentally decided, however, that he would never allow another anchor, or any other design for that matter, to be placed upon his arms. this awful example had effectually cured his leaning in that direction. the man sat there for fully two hours and entertained his young hosts with amazing stories connected with his adventurous past. whether they were all true or not might always be open to suspicion, but then none of the scouts doubted that he had been through a maze of exploits, equal to anything they had ever read in those books so dear to the heart of youth, "robinson crusoe," "swiss family robinson," "gulliver's travels," "sindbad the sailor" and "the arabian nights' entertainment." later on they disposed of themselves the best way they could, and managed to secure more or less sleep while the night lasted. nothing occurred to disturb them. if there were various sounds heard during the time that the moon rode high in the heavens they were not of a character to cause any alarm. so morning found them, and breakfast was prepared in much the same fashion as supper had been on the preceding evening. bob kaiser was loud in his protestations of gratitude as he shook the hand of each scout at parting. he told them he would never forget what they had done for him; and from that time forth he meant to say a good word for scouts wherever he went. when the four lads saw him last, as they moved off along the road, he was waving farewell in answer to their salute, before turning his face toward the north. upon the whole they were very glad such an opportunity to extend a helping hand had come to them. it must always please a genuine scout to be of assistance to any one in distress; and the fact that the party had been a fellow american added to the satisfaction they felt. the man had told them he had friends at amsterdam who would look out for him if only he could get there; and with a reasonable amount of good luck he surely ought to be able to cover the seven miles, more or less, between their camping place and the border, during the day ahead of him. in fact, thad almost envied him his resolution to head that way. it seemed the shortest route to safety in those strenuous days when the whole of belgium was ablaze with excitement, hostile armies battling for supremacy, and every one suspicious of all strangers. "to-day will decide the question for us," allan was saying, an hour or so after they had started that morning; "if we manage to pull through up to night time without any more backsets, we can consider it settled that we're going to make antwerp by this route." no one disagreed with him. even bumpus was figuring what thirty miles "as the crow flies" might mean, when they had to follow varying trails and roads, subject to the whims of any military commands they chanced to meet. "something coming ahead there!" announced the ever-watchful giraffe. on looking the others could see that a cloud of dust was rising in the direction they were heading. this of course indicated the passage of some considerable number of men or horses along the road. "another battery coming from antwerp and hurrying to the front by this route," speculated allan, and indeed that seemed the most probable explanation of the disturbance. "there, i heard what sounded like the clatter of horses' hoofs then," announced giraffe, with his hand cupped at his ear to imitate the rabbit, which a kindly nature has so constructed as to be able to throw its ears forward and catch the slightest sound that otherwise would be inaudible. thad listened, and as he did so his eyebrows went up as though a suspicion might be passing through his mind that allan's speculation was altogether wrong. he too heard the clatter of hoofs now, for they were coming more heavily. to him it seemed as though there were many hundreds of them, and that they pounded the road more like a squadron of cavalry on the gallop. thad drew the car to one side of the road, and then stopped his engine. until the mystery had been solved there was no use trying to proceed further. perhaps this spot was to mark the high-water line of their advance on antwerp. "there, i can see them beginning to show up now!" cried giraffe. moving figures came into view, constantly augmented until there must have been scores amidst the rising dust. no sooner had thad noticed the fact that they were gray-coated, and that they carried what seemed to be lances, with small pennons fluttering at the ends, than he knew what it meant. giraffe voiced what all of them understood by that time when he ejaculated: "why, they're german lancers, don't you see, boys; the uhlans we've heard so much about, the rough riders of the kaiser, and raiding the country to cut off communications between the belgian army and brussels. whew! now we're in the soup!" chapter xxvii. the uhlan hold-up. bumpus was heard to give a big sigh. "i can see our finish, boys," he remarked, calmly, as though he had resigned himself to the inevitable. "i'm ready to cry quits, and hold up my hands. holland looks pretty good to me just now." "let's wait and see what happens," said thad, though he secretly rejoiced to hear bumpus admit this, for the fat scout had more at stake than the rest of them, in that his sick mother was waiting and watching in the city of the schelde. the uhlans came swiftly along. if they noticed the old car drawn to one side of the road, out of the way, they gave no evidence of the fact until the leaders had arrived almost abreast of the spot. then a bugle sounded, and the whole squadron halted, causing the dust to mount up more furiously than ever. a score of troopers gathered around the car, most of them officers, thad could see, although the dust covered them so completely that it concealed the insignia of their rank to some extent. "giraffe, it's your turn," said thad to the lanky scout; "air what german you know, and tell them we're american boy scouts; also ask if one of them can converse with me in english." "there is no need to ask that, because most of us are familiar with your tongue," said the stout officer who seemed to be in chief command, much to the satisfaction of the scouts. "but we must take that assertion of yours with a grain of allowance. we even suspect that you are english boys, bent on getting through our lines with valuable information for the enemy, which we cannot allow, you understand." thad was not surprised. he realized that at such a time every one who spoke the english language must come under the ban with the teuton race. already he had discovered that this stout man was inclined to be a martinet, and possibly ruthless in dealing with those whom he had reason to suspect. "i assure you, sir," he hastened to say, respectfully but firmly, "that we are every one of us native-born americans. we were making a cruise down the rhine and when we arrived at cologne news that war had broken out gave us a shock. one of my comrades here has a sick mother in antwerp, under the care of a specialist. that is why we are trying to make our way there." "where did you get this car?" asked the officer, sternly. "in cologne, or rather near there, buying it from a man we met. i have the bill of sale here. it is a terrible car, and has broken down with us many times. that is why we were allowed to keep it." "but if, as you say, you were in germany when the kaiser's troops crossed over into belgium, how happens it you are here? they would not let you come by way of aachen, where the glorious army crossed the border?" thad, of course, did not mean to tell how they had been hotly chased by german troopers, and just managed to elude them by reaching the dutch guards in time. he fancied that such an account would hardly be likely to influence this stern looking uhlan leader in their favor. "we figured that there would be all sorts of difficulties in trying to cross at that point, sir," the boy explained, simply; "and so we arranged to pass over into holland where it is very narrow, and from there reach belgium. that is what we have done." "yet you have been allowed to proceed this far in peace, it seems?" observed the prussian, as though he considered this a very significant fact. "oh! we have had all sorts of troubles besides our poor car breaking down," thad continued. "yesterday from a hilltop we witnessed the fight for a bridge that was defended by a belgian battery. the germans charged bravely, and would have carried the bridge, but it had been mined, and was blown up just as they reached it." the uhlan officers exchanged glances. thad was of the impression that possibly they may have been having a tragic little experience themselves in connection with the ingenuity shown by the belgians in setting traps at bridge-heads. he remembered how he and his chums had been told by those belgian soldiers that they had fixed it so the bridge they guarded would fall as soon as troopers started to swing across it, carrying some of them down in the ruins. he heard them talking among themselves in german. giraffe was listening eagerly to what he could catch, and when he found a chance he whispered to thad what he was able to make of it. "they say a breathing spell for the men will do no harm, and you can see their horses are sweating something fierce, thad. but somehow all you've said doesn't seem to have convinced that head officer. he must hate everything english like the mischief, for some reason or other. he's telling them that perhaps we're cunning spies after all, smart britishers playing a game, and pretending to be neutral americans. i'll keep on listening and see what they mean to do, thad." meanwhile, now that most of the dust had settled, thad found a chance to glance along the line, and notice what a sturdy, well-set lot those uhlan raiders were. as a rule they seemed to be fair-haired young chaps, with clear eyes and ruddy cheeks. thad was more than a little surprised. like many others, he had imagined that all uhlans, having such a reputation for daring and recklessness, must be grim-looking men, after the type of the russian cossacks. these fellows were not at all what he had pictured them. they sat their saddles like men who were born to ride hard. and the horses were a picked lot, capable of standing great fatigue, thad also noticed. after all he believed he would always be glad he had come in contact with these uhlans; for he had wanted to see them at close quarters; and on that other occasion the moonlight did not allow of much scrutiny. presently the chief officer turned again to the boy in the car. "show me your passports!" he commanded, and if anything his voice and manner were sterner than before. thad was only too glad of the opportunity to do so. he also gave up the several letters so that the other could glance them over, which he proceeded to do. all that time the look of suspicion did not leave his set face. every now and then he would eye the boys keenly. "he just keeps on thinking we're sailing under false colors, thad," muttered giraffe, who had also observed the actions of the uhlan commander. "take out what letters the rest of you have had from home since coming over," said thad, hoping that this would convince the other, and bring about their release; for should they be arrested as spies, and treated harshly, he considered that would be the hardest blow of all. even when he had carelessly glanced at these the face of the officer still wore that same frown, as though he could not get rid of his suspicion that they were really english boys, and all this might only be a cleverly arranged scheme to hide their identity. thad was almost ready to give up in despair. he felt that he had about reached the end of his rope, and could do nothing more. just how these hard riders could hold them prisoners, and make them accompany them he could not guess, unless they happened to have four empty saddles among them. and it would be difficult to imagine bumpus going at headlong speed across country, keeping pace with such mad riders as these uhlans. then all at once thad remembered something. it was not that a verbal plea would do any good, for he suspected the more he talked the stronger would this martinet be inclined to hold them under the ban of his displeasure. the brief note written by the aviator whom they had aided--might not that be of benefit to their cause? it will be remembered that thad had taken pains to conceal this under the lining of his campaign hat, lest some belgian eye read what the taube birdman had written over his signature, and charge them with being german spies. taking off his hat he fumbled under the lining, and quickly produced the paper, a bit crumpled, and lacking freshness, but with the penciled writing plainly legible, which was all thad cared about. when he looked up he saw that many eyes had been following his motions, as if the uhlans had had their curiosity aroused. "there is one incident connected with our trip through this part of belgium, sir, that i would like to speak of, hoping it will convince you we are what we claim to be, only that and nothing more. have i your permission to tell you about this adventure, sir?" "proceed," the officer told him; "we are giving the horses a little rest, which they sorely need, so a short delay will do no harm." "we were coming along when we had an accident to the engine. while i was making the necessary repairs one of my friends made an astonishing discovery. we saw the figure of a man caught in the top of a tall tree. he was moving his arm to us as if he hoped to attract our attention in that way. when we hurried up to the tree we found, just as we expected, the wreck of an aeroplane there!" thad purposely paused at that thrilling point so as to let them grasp the full force of his assertion. he was not much surprised when the officer demanded: "could you tell from the build of the aeroplane what sort of a machine it may have been, boy?" "yes, for i had noticed them while over in germany, sir," replied thad. "it was a taube model. we climbed the tree at once, three of us, and after some hard work managed to get the aviator safely down. he told us how he had been scouting over the belgian lines when both his machine and himself were struck by shots. he tried to sail slowly to the ground miles away from the fighting line, but by hard luck struck that tree, and became caught there, his machine falling to the earth." again thad stopped as though to get his breath, but it was really done for effect and to give the officer a chance to ask a question, which he immediately did. "then you claim that this man whom you aided was a german aviator, do you?" "he had a bad wound in his arm," proceeded the boy, promptly, "which we had no trouble in binding up, because you may know, sir, that scouts are taught how to treat all manner of wounds. i am sure he felt very grateful on account of what little we were able to do for him. we were only carrying out the principles of our scout organization. it did not matter to us whether he was german, belgian or french, he was in need of assistance, and we gave it." the officer in command swept a look around at his comrades, and thad saw that several of them nodded their heads as though they rather liked the way the boy in khaki had put forward his ideas concerning strict neutrality. "would you know the name of this german taube operator if you heard it again, boy?" asked the commander. "oh! he left a note with us, which he signed with his name," said thad, smilingly; "you see he said it might be of assistance to us in case we came across any party of uhlans on our travels. i supposed from that he must be pretty well known, although of course none of us had ever heard his name." "was it that note you just took from under the lining of your hat?" asked the officer. "yes, sir, and here it is. you see, i felt that it might get us into trouble if belgian eyes saw it, for they would not like to know we had saved the life of a german aviator who would have died in that tree, perhaps." the officer hastily took the piece of paper and read the few lines written thereon by the man of the wrecked taube. thad saw that it seemed to create something of a sensation among the uhlans as it was passed from hand to hand, and from this he felt satisfied that the aviator must have been one of the leading airmen in the german flying corps. now the grim face of the uhlan commander had relaxed. he even smiled on the scouts. "i am convinced that you are what you claim, my brave boys; so shake hands with me, one and all of you," he said. chapter xxviii. turned back. "bully," giraffe was heard to mutter half under his breath, at this sudden change in front on the part of the stern uhlan officer, evidently a soldier of more or less reputation. even bumpus wanted to be able to say he had grasped the fist of a german cavalry officer raiding through belgium, for he crowded forward, and was the last to be greeted in that friendly way. "let me give you back this slip of paper, boy," said the commander to thad. "you should be very proud of having saved the life of that brave man, for he is called the foremost aviator in our entire corps. if our commander, the kaiser, ever learns of what you have done be assured that he will send you a personal letter of thanks." all this was very pleasant for the boys to hear. bumpus was evidently still hugging a faint hope to his faithful heart that they might be allowed to pass on. he even managed to find his voice, and put his anticipation into words. "and could we be allowed to keep on to antwerp, sir?" he asked. at that the officer frowned again. he seemed to consider for a moment, then shook his head slowly in the negative. "you must turn back, and proceed to the dutch border," he told them. "it would be much better for you to try and reach antwerp by way of rotterdam and the sea. there nothing will delay you, while on land a thousand obstacles may arise to prevent the accomplishment of your plans. besides, you must give us your word of honor as scouts that you will not come back this way again." thad felt as though a great load had been taken from his chest. now that they were to be forced to promise bumpus could not complain; and they would be able to try the other plan. he was sorry now he had not insisted on doing that at the time they trod dutch soil; before now they would have reached rotterdam, and might even be sailing for the schelde. "we are ready to make you that promise, sir," he told the commander of the uhlans, "in fact, we should have decided on that course long ago. it would have saved us a heap of trouble. once across the border and on dutch soil we should not have crossed back again." "i differ with you there, boy," said the other, smiling again; "for had you done so the german flying corps would perhaps have lost its most brilliant and daring exponent. turn your car, therefore, and you can proceed ahead of us. first of all let me mark out the course i wish you to take." with that he drew out a map of belgium and holland. thad was interested when he saw what a marvel of ingenuity that map was. it had evidently been carefully prepared for the army to be used in case of just such an invasion. possibly there were other charts covering great britain, france, russia, italy, switzerland and denmark. thad saw that it was very minute. not a railroad, station, crossing, canal, road, town, village, bridge, ford, fort or anything else of consequence but that it was plainly marked there. and the officer had other maps too, for thad glimpsed them when he was selecting this one. he traced the route back to the dutch border, and thad, taking out his own apology for a chart, made marks to indicate the course he was to take. then after considerable work he managed to get the car turned, some of the troopers being ordered to dismount and lend a helping hand. after that they started, and before they had gone far the clatter of horses' hoofs from the rear announced that the entire squadron of troopers must be coming after them. "gee! but i'm glad they're not meaning us any harm," remarked giraffe, as he took one of his usual backward peeps by simply twisting that long neck of his around; "because they'd be able to overtake us in a jiffy, even if their nags are tired. it's a heap nicer to have these hard-riding uhlans for friends than enemies. and i also hope we don't run afoul of that armored motor-car we saw, with those reckless belgians in the same. i do believe they'd charge the whole uhlan squadron." thad himself echoed that wish. he had seen sights during that terrible battle for the possession of the disputed bridge that would never fade from his memory; and he did not want to look on anything further that had to do with bloodshed and misery, under the thin veneering of glory. "we're coming to the side road he wants us to take, and which will lead to the dutch border," thad announced after a time. a few minutes later and the car turned to the left, after which thad shut down. standing up they watched the troop gallop past, and fortunately the dust was blowing toward the opposite quarter so their view was not hindered. the scouts had taken off their hats, and every time they saw any one in that long column give them a salute they answered in kind as they had been taught by the rules of the organization to which they belonged. finally the last uhlan had ridden past, and only a slowly settling cloud of dust told where they had gone. "we'll always remember this last incident as one of the pleasant episodes of our dash through belgium," remarked thad, as they settled down again in their places for another start. "one thing sure, thad," observed giraffe, "that commander must have placed a lot of confidence in your simple word, because he wouldn't know now whether we meant to keep on into holland, or try again to push on after he'd forbidden it." "i guess he knows whatever a scout says he'll do he tries to perform," ventured bumpus, proudly. "seven miles isn't far, and with any sort of luck we ought to be over the line by noon," remarked allan. "what's the plan of campaign, then, thad?" inquired bumpus. "we'll try for a station on a railway," he was told. "over in holland they're not so apt to be given over wholly to the military forces, so we stand a chance to get passage to rotterdam. the very first time our car goes back on us with the railroad close by it's good-bye to this machine." "i really don't think any of us will mourn much for the dinky trap," giraffe argued; "but then i suppose after a time when things get mellow in our minds well all take a lot of satisfaction in talking about this trip, and the old car will come in for its share of attention. time heals many faults, you know." now that the change in plans had really come about, they could feel a sort of satisfaction in reflecting that they had kept on to the very last. in fact, they had refused to give up until actually in the hands of the uhlans, and compelled to promise on their honor as scouts that they would do as ordered. "oh! did you see that?" exclaimed bumpus, starting them all to staring around in various directions; and then he condescended to go on, thus centering their attention to the one point--"it was ahead of us i saw it, boys." "saw what, a boa constrictor from the menagerie?" demanded giraffe, with the suspicion of a sneer in his voice. "it was a _man_," said bumpus, severely, "if you want to know, and he dodged into the bushes there as quick as a flash when we came around the bend." "oh! he did, eh?" continued giraffe; "and now mebbe you could tell us what sort of a man it was, bumpus, white or black, tall or short, soldier or just a plain ordinary citizen. speak up, bumpus, we're waiting." "he looked to me about like our friend the kaiser!" said the fat scout, with a trace of a smile on his rosy face; "and there's where he dodged into the brush, too!" thad stopped the car. "nothing more likely than that it was the very man," he remarked. "i should think he might have gotten this far along the way to the dutch border by now," and then raising his voice the patrol leader called: "hello! kaiser, don't you want to buy a dog? show yourself, bob; you ought to know your friends!" at that a lanky figure bobbed up and there was an inarticulate cry, after which the circus fugitive hurried to join them. "why, this _is_ a surprise, i must say, and a pleasant one in the bargain," he declared, fairly bubbling over with delight as he shook first thad's hand and then that of each scout in rotation; "i never dreamed i'd see you boys again on this side of the water. what made you change your minds?" "a stout officer in the uniform of a uhlan colonel," laughed thad. "the fact is we ran smack into a squadron of uhlans, and they made us promise to cross over to holland; so, as scouts always keep their solemn word we're bound that way right now. and there's room enough for you to crowd in, if you think we can make faster time than afoot." the tattooed man did not wait for a second invitation, and easily squeezed in with the two boys in the rear. there was not much room to spare, owing to the fact of bumpus being so very corpulent; but then kaiser was as thin as he was long, so that he occupied very little space. giraffe said he "wedged" himself in, which was about the truth. he was greatly interested in hearing of the adventure that had befallen thad and his three chums since they separated from him that morning. for the first time he learned how they had saved that german taube man from the treetop, afterwards binding up his wound. "it does beat all creation," declared the circus fugitive, "how you boys manage to go around doing good to others. i owe you a big debt just as that aviator does, and i warrant you there are many others, only you're too modest to mention the fact." "oh! that's all in the game!" said giraffe, making out to look upon such things with a feeling bordering on contempt, although being human he must have liked to hear his praises sung. "to tell the truth," ventured thad, "we are the ones who feel under obligations, because we get much more benefit out of these happenings than the other fellow. everybody does who believes in the old saying that it's more blessed to give than to receive. besides, we are only obeying the rules of the organization that we're proud to say we belong to." as they went on their way the man who had traveled to the uttermost corners of the world entertained them with still further stories connected with his strange experiences. thus they hardly noticed the lapse of time, and when thad told them they had passed the seventh mile the eagle eye of giraffe began to get busy with the task of locating the guard station that would mark the border line. a short time afterwards he pointed it out to them, and they discovered one of the same white posts that had marked the division of territory at the time they were chased by the german cavalrymen, and found refuge over the line with the soldiers of queen wilhelmina. of course they were stopped, but at this early stage in the war the dutch guard along the border had no orders to keep any one out of holland. questions were put to them by an officer who was summoned by the privates. these of course thad could answer truthfully, and besides, the manly bearing of the lads must have had an influence in determining the officer to admit the party. he did look rather doubtfully at the circus freak, but having been told just who kaiser was, and seen something of his wonderful adornment, he did not think himself justified in turning him back. so it came the four scouts left belgium territory again. they had been through some pretty warm experiences since first striking the soil of the buffer state, many of which would never be forgotten. somehow all of them seemed to breathe easily after they had started along the road that would take them to the nearest railroad town. thad knew it had all been a mistake, their trying to break past the struggling armed hosts, and that they would have shown wisdom had they come this way in the beginning. at the same time he did not feel very sorry. they had been given a wonderful experience, and would certainly never forget some of the things that had happened to them. particularly would they have reason to remember that terrible battle for the bridge head, when the german hosts fought their way through a storm of shot, only to see the bridge blown up with dynamite before they could secure it. chapter xxix. a change of plans--conclusion. "that finishes it with me," remarked thad, when the car came to a sudden stop, on account of the treacherous motor breaking down again. "get ready to leave the old trap in the ditch, boys. we'll give some other simpletons a chance to tinker with the machine. i'm done with it, once and for all." "well, you gave us all plain warning in good time, thad," spoke up giraffe, not in the least depressed with this change of plans, because his impatient spirit could not brook these irritating delays. even bumpus did not show any considerable amount of chagrin, and the reason was quickly made manifest when he broke out with: "i really believe we must be close on to that railroad town they called valkenswaard; because as sure as anything i heard the sound of a train moving along just then. yes, there it goes again, with the motor puffing like hot cakes. thad, tell me if i'm right about that." "just what you are, bumpus," replied the patrol leader. "i heard it myself, which was one reason i said what i did. we've been heading nearly due east for some little time now, and were due to strike the line of steel before long." "the plan then is to step out lively, and get to this dutch town," suggested allan. "i suppose then we'll take the very first chance we can strike to start for rotterdam by way of--for goodness' sake, let me see that chart of yours again, thad; because these terrible dutch names twist my tongue so--here it is, hertogenbosch, which seems to be about the biggest railway center in all holland." "how far away is rotterdam, thad?" asked bumpus. "i couldn't tell you exactly, bumpus," answered the scout leader; "but on a guess i'd say not more than a hundred miles. the netherlands isn't a very big country, you remember, and yet one of the most wonderful places in the world. we'll see some strange sights as we go along." "i hope we make the trip by daylight, then," said giraffe, who was more or less fond of seeing new scenes. they made sure to leave nothing behind that they cared to keep. "good-bye, little old trap," said giraffe, making a mock bow toward the abandoned car; "you played your part all right in the circus, and we'll often think of you, with tears in our eyes. all the same we're glad to be able to say our necks haven't been broken while we navigated the roads of germany, belgium and holland in your care." inside of half an hour they actually arrived at the town on the railway. here they managed to get something to eat while waiting for a train to come along. it was by the greatest luck in the world that they found themselves on the road shortly after noon, because the service between belgium and holland was already sadly disorganized on account of what was going on across the border. when they arrived at the town of hertogenbosch they found that they would have to wait an hour before they could make a fresh start for rotterdam. here kaiser the tattooed man said good-bye to his young friends, since he was headed for amsterdam, and their routes ran in different directions. "i've got your home address, boys," he said after squeezing their hands for the third and last time, "and i'm going to drop in and see you some time or other, if i get out of this country alive. you've been good friends to me, and i'll never forget it. i'm a firm admirer of boy scouts from this time on, and will preach the gospel of humanity wherever i go, just as you've paid it out to me. good-bye, all!" they were really sorry to part with bob kaiser, for if ever there lived an entertaining and good-hearted eccentric fellow he "filled the bill," as giraffe said. during that long afternoon they continued to pass through a most interesting country, with many glimpses of watery sections, where the dikes kept the sea from flooding the rich land which the industrious dutch had wrested from the grip of mother ocean. it seemed as though every rod of it must be under cultivation, and the boys understood after that journey what was really meant by "intensive farming." flowers without number were included in the various crops, for holland is the home of the greatest nursery of bulbs in the whole world, her rich soil being just suited to their growth. evening was drawing on apace when they neared the great city of rotterdam and sniffed the salty scent of the sea that lay beyond. it acted like a tonic upon the four lads. even bumpus was noticed to take numerous whiffs of the invigorating atmosphere, although he had been very seasick on the voyage across the atlantic. they managed to get located at a small but neatly kept hotel, where they could stay while looking about, and making inquiries concerning the possibilities of getting to antwerp by water. never in all their lives had they seen such wonderful cleanliness. the women and children with their queer head-dresses, and snow-white garments were a never ceasing source of wonder to the boys, especially bumpus, who often chuckled when he pointed out roly-poly boys who put even his own generous proportions into the shade, so to speak. "this is the land where you really belong, bumpus," giraffe told him; "here you could pass unnoticed, if only you dressed like these other boys do. just imagine our bumpus with a pair of those wide trousers on, and wooden shoes to finish him off, would you? i've got half a mind to buy an outfit for you, bumpus, while we have the chance. you'd make a great hit with the pretty girls of cranford when you came out and set the style for the rest of the fellows." "squander your money if you feel like it, giraffe," bumpus good-naturedly told him; "but getting me to wear such a clown outfit will be another thing. one boy c'n lead a horse to water, but the whole cranford troop can't make him drink against his will, remember." they had a peaceful night of it, although at first they feared the many noises welling up from the water front where the shipping was so dense would annoy them. it must have been they were all pretty tired, and that of late they had failed to enjoy their customary sound sleep, for to tell the truth none of them seemed to know a thing from the time they retired until thad, arousing, found it was already broad daylight. immediately after breakfast they started out. bumpus was becoming distressed once more on account of his not having heard from his mother for such a long time. he was exceedingly fond of her, and felt sure she must be enduring great mental agony on account of the uncertainty concerning her boy, marooned up in the rhine country by this sudden breaking out of the great war. at first they did not meet with any luck. vessels were starting out that day, a number of them, but for america and england. those destined to cross the atlantic had every stateroom engaged, for thousands of sight-seers had already taken the alarm, and were flocking to the dutch ports to get passage home. it was about the middle of the morning when thad struck a clue which seemed to give more or less hope. eagerly following the trail they finally learned that a small steamer expected to leave rotterdam for antwerp an hour after noon that same day. there might not be another for forty-eight hours, and so it became necessary for the scouts to immediately engage passage, and then hurry back to settle their score at the hotel, as well as carry their personal belongings aboard. being something of hustlers they managed to accomplish all this in record time, having learned that they could get dinner on board the boat. and once comfortably settled they could await the sailing of the boat with a conviction that their troubles were in all probability over. "just to think," said giraffe, after they had started down the river to the sea, lying some twenty miles or so away, "if we could have continued our voyage in that little boat of ours through the rest of germany and then into holland we'd have brought up here, sooner or later." "why, is this really the mouth of the rhine?" asked bumpus, wonderingly; "i had an idea rotterdam was situated on the meuse river." "it's all a regular mix-up, however you try to see it," responded giraffe, who had been studying the chart, and wished to exploit his knowledge; "there seem to be no end to the outlets of those two rivers when they get to the delta region of the netherlands, and you can call them either the rhine or the meuse as you please. it's all salt water down here, anyhow, and these are really arms of the north sea reaching far up into the low countries." it was a very interesting trip down the river, at any rate. they had glimpses of forts which holland had erected in order to defend her cities against any foreign foe; though the boys considered that her greatest possible danger lay in the west, where germany had an envious eye on this valuable territory that seemed to properly be a part of her expanding empire. finally about the middle of the afternoon they came in sight of the sea, though its heaving had been manifest for some time previously. all of the scouts viewed the apparently boundless expanse of salt water with delight; bumpus however was heard to express a fervent hope that he would not have to pass through another attack of sea sickness. when about an hour before the setting of the sun they saw heavy smoke along the horizon, and presently could make out a long line of what appeared to be misty-colored battleships headed _north_, it gave them a decided thrill. "they must be a part of the great british fleet, on the way to seek battle with the kaiser's warships!" was the consensus of opinion; and having lately witnessed the ferocity that marks a battle the boys could easily picture the stirring scene if ever a decisive conflict did take place between the rival fleets of the north sea. with the good boat forging on toward the mouth of the schelde river, up which it would pass to the docks at antwerp, it seemed as though the troubles of thad brewster and his three fellow scouts might be over for the present. they fully anticipated being in the belgian city by morning, and possibly taking passage for london before another night, with mrs. hawtree in their care. here we may well leave them, confident that no matter what may arise to throw obstacles in their way, these energetic and resourceful lads can be depended on to overcome all trials, and reach the haven for which they are heading. at some no far distant day we can hope to once more follow their fortunes in new fields of scout endeavor; but until that time comes we must ring down the curtain and say good-bye. the end the boy scouts series by herbert carter for boys to years all cloth bound copyright titles price, cents each new stories of camp life the boy scouts' first campfire; or, scouting with the silver fox patrol. the boy scouts in the blue ridge; or, marooned among the moonshiners. the boy scouts on the trail; or, scouting through the big game country. the boy scouts in the maine woods; or, the new test for the silver fox patrol. the boy scouts through the big timber; or, the search for the lost tenderfoot. the boy scouts in the rockies; or, the secret of the hidden silver mine. the boy scouts on sturgeon island; or, marooned among the game-fish poachers. the boy scouts down in dixie; or, the strange secret of alligator swamp. the boy scouts at the battle of saratoga; a story of burgoyne's defeat in . the boy scouts along the susquehanna; or, the silver fox patrol caught in a flood. the boy scouts on war trails in belgium; or, caught between hostile armies. the boy scouts afoot in france; or, with the red cross corps at the marne. the boy troopers series by clair w. hayes author of the famous "boy allies" series. the adventures of two boys with the pennsylvania state police. all copyrighted titles. cloth bound, with attractive cover designs. price, cents each. the boy troopers on the trail the boy troopers in the northwest the boy troopers on strike duty the boy troopers among the wild mountaineers the golden boys series by l. p. wyman, ph.d. dean of pennsylvania military college. a new series of instructive copyright stories for boys of high school age. handsome cloth binding. price, cents each. the golden boys and their new electric cell the golden boys at the fortress the golden boys in the maine woods the golden boys with the lumber jacks the golden boys on the river drive the radio boys series by gerald breckenridge a new series of copyright titles for boys of all ages. _cloth bound, with attractive cover designs_ price, cents each the radio boys on the mexican border the radio boys on secret service duty the radio boys with the revenue guards the radio boys' search for the inca's treasure the radio boys rescue the lost alaska expedition for sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers a. l. burt company - east rd street new york the boy scouts of the air in indian land boy scouts of the air books by gordon stuart illustrated by norman p. hall the reilly & britton co. chicago copyright, by the reilly & britton co. the boy scouts of the air in indian land [illustration: they crept, wriggled and crawled toward the machine. the air was stifling and they could hardly breathe, but, groping in the smoke and darkness, carl finally got his hands on the truck.] contents i a ride and a runaway ii the destroyer iii the legend of the thunder bird iv an aviator appears v at the b. p. ranch vi winning an aeroplane vii in the mountains viii the storm ix a strange meeting x the patrol becomes a fact xi a surprise for mr. phipps xii the thunder bird attacks xiii at work on the aeroplane xiv the fire xv repairing the plane xvi the first flight xvii in sight of the enemy xviii success at last xix jumping a peak list of illustrations they crept, wriggled and crawled toward the machine. the air was stifling and they could hardly breathe, but, groping in the smoke and darkness, carl finally got his hands on the truck. "now, scouts," said mr. hawke, amused at their excited exclamations, "we'll put this together, and i'll show you the model of the 'thunder bird aeroplane.'" carl stopped short. in front of him stood a tall, stately, blanketed indian. his whole face was hideously painted in various colors, and his countenance was set and expressionless. the struggle promised to be a long and hard one if carl were left to fight it alone. but this the other boys did not propose to allow, and they immediately began to cross on the rope ladder. boy scouts of the air in indian land chapter i a ride and a runaway "there she comes," exclaimed a boy, one of a crowd awaiting the evening train in the hot little box of a depot at silver city, new mexico. a speck of yellow had suddenly appeared far down the light, worn rails to the east. fifty loungers moved forward. the evening train was coming at last. "if mother don't look out," added the speaker, who was a tall, slender young chap with strikingly black hair and eyes, "she'll miss the train an' the folks that are coming. mother seems to like to be late--always." "don't get excited, jerry," broke in a second boy, this one with big shoulders, a square determined face with a winning smile, and, his chief characteristic, a big mop of yellow hair. "i think ike and your mother are coming right now." while the headlight was yet only a growing star on the far-away plain, a military hack, drawn by two nervous horses in charge of a colored soldier in uniform, dashed up to the now lively depot in a cloud of dust. those awaiting the arrival of the train made a fair picture of the people living in that part of the half-desert southwest. there were miners, soldiers, sheepmen, freighters, loafers not easily classified, and the usual mixture of mexicans and civilized indians. the arrival of the train meant little to any of these except that it brought the daily mail, strangers in the shape of prospectors, or drummers who might spend a few dollars, and nearly always some one going to the fort. all soldiers know fort bayard. it isn't a real fort any more, although a few cannon sit idly about the big white stockade and new brick buildings, but the tired and sick soldier in the philippines, in california or in new york, knows that here, when all else fails, he may be sent to find rest and new health. uncle sam has selected the old post as the best place in the united states to put new life into his ailing soldiers. that's why, the indian and his troubles having disappeared, and consequently the need for armed militia, that old fort bayard has been dismantled, new buildings put up, and the old structures repaired and whitewashed and put in charge of a medical staff. here, at the time of this story, captain h. wilmot crawford was in charge of the post, he and his under officers and the medical staff living apart with their families in their own homes. this made the post quite a settlement. the fort was six miles from silver city. every foot of the intervening military road climbed upward to the big plateau, high and dry, and looking in all directions toward the still higher mountain ranges. the post was an ideal home for the officers detailed there. the lady in the hack that had reached the station just as the train arrived was mrs. wilmot crawford, wife of the post commandant. she was also the mother of the first boy speaker, gerald crawford, commonly known as jerry. the interest of mrs. crawford and the two boys in the approaching train was due to the fact that on it mrs. windham of cleveland and her son fred were passengers. mrs. windham was coming to visit mrs. crawford, her old schoolgirl friend, and, as her son was with her, it meant a boy to join the post quartette of kids. that his coming was eagerly anticipated by the boys at the station was indicated by the actions of the latter. "i s'pose windham won't think this is much of a place," remarked a third boy as jerry crawford sprang to attend on his mother. "after living in a big city like cleveland, i reckon he'll think this is rotten," went on the boy. "i hope he ain't stuck up, dunk. it wouldn't seem just right to take a fall out of jerry's guest." "say," answered the boy addressed as dunk, grabbing the speaker by the arm. then dunk stopped, thrust his hands deep in his pockets and said, with emphasis, "if i were you, fly, i wouldn't fret about our new friend liking us or the place. he ain't visitin' to our houses. it's up to jerry to entertain him an' keep him right. but, as far as that goes, he may take to it like that new york kid who's over to brett's ranch. graystock just took one look at a cow pony and the mountains and gave it out cold he didn't care whether he ever went back to new york. and new york's a heap sight bigger than cleveland." "i ain't looking for trouble," protested the boy addressed as fly. "but i hope he's all right. the summer's pretty long down here, and they ain't many of us. so, what there are of us ought to be right if we're goin' to pull together." little did any of the boys think when they heard that a fred windham was to arrive from cleveland, what a whirl of events was to arrive with him! mrs. windham's doctors had advised her to go to new mexico. jerry, dunk and fly had driven over in a four-horse freight wagon from the post. mrs. crawford had come to silver city earlier in the day to do some shopping. as mrs. crawford dashed up to the station, the dusty but well appointed hack, the spirited horses and mrs. crawford's half western, snappy costume indicated that life at the post was probably not without pleasures of its own. in fact, an invitation from one of the post families to spend a few weeks at fort bayard in the summer was generally considered a special favor. with a growing rumble and spreading glare of light the swaying train at last stopped before the station. jerry darted from his mother and with his two companions was at once lost in the crowd. mrs. crawford remained in the hack awaiting her old friend. there was so much confusion on the platform that, at first, the expected guests were not seen. jerry separated from his crowd, but, not knowing the windhams by sight, he had not much hope of recognizing them. however, seeing a rather undersized boy before him, he raised his voice without hesitation. "say, your name windham?" "you bet!" the other's face broke into a smile. "you're crawford? glad to meet you. here's my mother, crawford." "come right along," laughed jerry, after shaking hands. "my mother's right over here." he led them out of the crowd, and a moment later the two ladies greeted each other while jerry introduced his friends to the northerner. fred windham was small for his age, but this was offset by a striking face. high forehead, twinkling gray eyes with flecks of brown in them, a mouth and jaw like a steel trap, and quick, firm handclasp won him a place at once among the other boys. fly seemed satisfied. mrs. windham met the boys; then the two ladies entered the hack. evidently mrs. crawford's guest expected her son to follow her. "oh, he'll drive with the boys," laughed mrs. crawford, "unless he's afraid of the jolting." "sure i will!" grinned fred. "if it's all right with you fellows?" "what do you think we're here for?" responded dunk, vigorously. "go ahead, ike. we'll load up the trucks and be right behind." the hack started off with lighted lamps, while the four boys got the windham trunks and piled into the waiting freight wagon on top of them, jerry taking the reins. the boys in the freighter escorting fred windham up the mountain road to fort bayard were members of the post quartette. the fourth member of the gang, however, although a constant comrade and companion of the three who had gone to meet windham, was an indian--an apache boy known as carlito. the other lads were gerald crawford, son of the post commandant; duncan rivers or "dunk," son of lieutenant rivers of the post staff, and art giles, known as fly for reasons that will soon be apparent. there were other boys in the neighborhood, however. one of them was herb phipps, the son of the owner of the big b. p. ranch five miles east of fort bayard, and another was his cousin howard graystock, already mentioned by dunk. art giles was not the son of an officer; his father was post mechanic, and the boy, brought up with little schooling, had known no life but that of the west. he was straightforward, impetuous and full of enthusiasm. his red hair was no untrue index of a sunny and lively disposition. more than one boy's share of freckles was distributed over his bright, frank face. jerry's four horses were headed toward the post plateau with its picturesque mountains and deserts to the north and west. the road was rough. it was now pitch dark, for there was no moon, and a slight haze somewhat obscured the brilliant stars. jerry soon caught up with the lights of the hack, and then his team jogged along a few yards behind. "say, windy," began dunk, giving fred the most natural nickname that occurred to him, "it's all in the family now, so just wise up that i'm dunk, gerald's jerry and art's fly." "much obliged," said fred pleasantly. "i'm used to windy, but why the fly?" "oh, those boneheads know i've been studyin' aeroplanes," answered art. "say, i clean forgot to tell you guys that tender gray called up this afternoon and we're all going over to-morrow." "aeroplanes?" repeated windy, the newcomer impolitely ignoring the message from tender gray. "how can you study aeroplanes way down here almost out of all creation?" "easy," answered fly. "i've never seen a real flying machine but i guess every boy's got some angle. my father takes a big english magazine about flying machines." "and red-head's gone crazy over them," exclaimed dunk. "you ought to see the fine little machine he made a couple of months ago. he made it just from reading about them in books, and it was a dandy too. of course it wouldn't fly, but it looked just like an aeroplane." "i'd rather see a real one than find a silver mine," announced young giles promptly. "but nothin' doin' in airships on this plateau." "they're great," broke in windham. "i've seen a lot of them. who's tender gray?" he concluded with boyish curiosity, recalling that fly had mentioned another lad. "oh," answered dunk rivers, jerry being busy with the horses, "he's a cousin of herb phipps. mr. phipps is the richest man in this part of the country. i guess he's a millionaire. they live over here about five miles east on the big home ranch. mr. phipps goes in for sheep you know. but he's got a lot of sheep ranches, and mines too. they call the one over east the b. p. ranch. that's the brand too. of course it means brett phipps, mr. phipps' name. but we all call it the bread pudding ranch." "what's the cousin's name?" went on windham, pulling off his light straw hat to keep it from blowing away as the big freight wagon rolled upward on the mountain road. "oh," answered dunk, "he's tender gray. his name's howard graystock. we call him tender gray because he's what they call a boy scout up there in new york." "boy scout," almost shouted windham. "why, i'm one of them myself. i want to know graystock, you bet." "that won't be hard to do," broke in fly. "him and herb are over to the post about half the time. and anyway, we're to go over to the b. p. to-morrow." "i suppose you call him tender gray because he's a tenderfoot scout," remarked windham. "i reckon," chuckled duncan. "that or because he's tender on the subject of boy scouts. he's sure a bug on that question. but you'll like both the b. p. kids. herb goes to college every winter." "you say you're a boy scout, too," called back jerry over his shoulder. "yes, i'm a boy scout, first class, and i've got the badges to prove it too." "what are they?" inquired dunk eagerly. "one's for athletics--basketball's my game--one's for handicraft, and the other--" fred paused an instant with a smile--"the other's for aviation." there was a gasp of surprise, then fly stuck a hand across the trunks. "shake old man!" he cried. they shook hands solemnly. for some minutes, while jerry's team lunged ahead and the freight wagon swung like a vessel adrift, windham and fly forgot even boy scout matters. but there was no time for prolonged talk, although each boy related what he had studied on the subject of aviation. the exhilaration of the ride was too much. "tell you what," windham almost shouted, "i'm certainly glad to get out here. airships, boy scouts and a ranch too--whoopee! real cowpunchers and roundups!" he paused as a shout of laughter went up. "wait till we put herb next!" gasped jerry. "wow! ain't that a peach though. cowpunchers!" "well, i'll bite," exclaimed fred. "what's the joke?" "roundups!" shouted dunk. "roundups and cowpunchers! why, brett phipps ain't got a puncher on the place!" "thought you said it was a ranch," protested fred. "it is," explained jerry. "sheep ranch though. all the punchers you'll see will be greaser sheep herders. 'bout a million sheep on the bread puddin'--hello! see that?" "what?" cried the others. "look out!" yelled windham suddenly. everybody dodged as a great gray and white shape drove down through the air beside them and was gone on the instant. a shriek went up from the hack in front, followed by a wild shout from ike. "runaway!" cried dunk. "after 'em jerry!" the latter needed no urging. he had already caught a glimpse of ike's form falling headlong from the hack seat as the two terrified horses plunged into headlong flight. with a shout of encouragement to his mother and mrs. windham, jerry doubled the reins and lashed his four horses into a run, barely missing ike's body as he passed it. "what was it?" called dunk, between jolts. "i couldn't see," shouted jerry. the hack before them was careering madly over the sand and stones. the glimmering lamps showed the sweating flanks of the two horses that were running frantically. the freight team behind gained rapidly, however, and slowly drew abreast of the runaways. jerry was urging his horses on with hat and reins when a dark shadow threw itself at the forward team. something seized the bridles and hung there, dragging down the horses' heads, and jerry barely managed to draw up his four as the hack stopped abruptly. instantly the boys were helping mrs. crawford and mrs. windham to the ground. assured of their safety jerry and dunk ran to the heads of the hack team. "carlito," cried jerry, gripping the shoulder of the slim young fellow who stood there. "old man, i'm--i--darn it all, come on back!" "it's carlito, mother," he shouted, dragging the reluctant young figure with him. "carl stopped 'em!" the rescuer reached for his sombrero, which had fallen from his head, as mrs. crawford held out her hand. "you are a brave boy, carlito!" she said gravely, her face pale. "you've saved us all, i guess. mrs. windham, this is carlito, one of the finest boys at the post." as their rescuer turned, his face came into the light of the lamps, and mrs. windham started, for she saw he was an indian. quickly recovering, she thanked him warmly. "it wasn't much," said carlito, smiling composedly. "the horses were stopping themselves." "not on your life they weren't!" cried dunk, hotly. "jump in and go with us to the fort, carl." "can't. going to town," replied carl, putting his hands to his mouth and emitting a strange sound. there was an answering whinny and he walked in the direction from which it came. "that's the way he finds his pony at night, or when he doesn't know just where it is. he certainly can make it loud too, when he wants to," explained jerry. as carlito started down the road, he met ike loping along rather lamely. "anybody hurt," gasped the driver as soon as he was within hearing distance. "no. how about yourself," jerry answered, surprised and at the same time relieved to see the darky had not sustained any injury. "oh, i'm tough," grinned the driver, resuming his seat. "say, what was dat thing? i heard a rush and somethin' soft give me a swipe in de face jest as the hosses broke, an' over i goes." "was it in the air?" asked dunk. "bird mebbe." "bird nothin'," contradicted jerry. "it felt a heap bigger'n any bird i ever heard of." by this time the ladies had again taken their places in the hack and ike took up the reins. "better come along, carlito," urged fly, but the indian boy shook his head. "see you at the b. p. ranch to-morrow," he said. "get there about eleven and you'll hear something worth while. so long." and the apache sprang on his pony and disappeared into the night. chapter ii the destroyer "who's that good-lookin' indian, jerry?" asked fred, as the light of fort bayard came into sight. "araviapa apache," came the reply. "he's been chasing around the post 'most all his life. came from the san carlos agency, i guess, so folks called him carl. used to be a dutchman named carl here, and the greasers called the injun carlito, or little carl. he goes by both names. he's the cool guy, you bet, and a wise one, too." "but what does he do?" persisted the practical fred. "he can't live on air, can he? does he get his living for nothing?" "don't you think it! not him," returned dunk warmly. "he does a lot of work for us--trailin', and things like that. he's a bird at it." "yes, and he's learned to read and write," added fly. "you kids ought to see some of the books and stuff he's got." there was no more time for conversation, as they now drew into the post grounds and drove up to the house occupied by the crawfords, where the guests were to stay. the captain and two or three of his brother officers met the new arrivals. at the tale of the runaway there was great excitement on the veranda and captain crawford called ike up from the drive. after examining the teamster and the boys, he gave up the effort he was making to solve the mystery of the runaway. "it must have been a bird," laughed dr. rivers, who bore the title of lieutenant. "that seems to be the only explanation," admitted the captain. "are you sure the thing hit you, ike?" "yessah," maintained the teamster stoutly. "it was the s'prise more'n anythin' else that knocked me off, cap'n. felt like a bird, though." "it was too large, father," protested jerry. "there ain't no bird as big as that. mebbe it was an aeroplane." the officers laughed, but jerry stuck to it that the "thing" was not a bird. the examination ended in nothing. the boys had brought the mail over with them, so as soon as the ladies had retired the officers went over to the quartermaster's office while the four boys separated for the night. the next day was a perfect one such as only the new mexican hills can produce. to the north and west of fort bayard stretched a wilderness of deep valleys and mountain peaks as far as the rio gila. the bread pudding ranch, as the circle b p was locally known, lay five miles to the east. after breakfasting, fred and his mother were driven around the garrison. there was plenty to be seen, and neither jerry nor fred realized how the time was flying until dunk approached. "hey, jerry," called the latter, with some show of indignation. "what's the mater with you? we've been waiting more'n an hour." after hastily explaining to the older members of the party that they were going over to the ranch for the day, jerry and fred accompanied dunk to the stables. here they found fly and carlito waiting and after saddling up they speedily left fort bayard behind. "ever ride much?" asked dunk, seeing that fred experienced a little difficulty with his saddle. "sure, lots!" replied the cleveland boy. "never ran up against this kind of saddle, though. spanish, ain't it?" "used to be," grinned jerry. "good u. s. now. say, carlito, what was that thing that scared our horses last night?" "you'll hear more of that when we get to the ranch," replied the apache, looking away. fred noticed that carlito spoke slowly and used exact english, probably gained from books. "i do not know what it was but--" "well, but what?" prodded dunk. "i think it must have been the thunder bird!" concluded carlito. a shout went up from all except fred, who asked wonderingly what the thunder bird was. "it's one of the old injun gods, windy," explained dunk. "he made the lightning and thunder and had something to do with the rain and crops. general boss of the gods, wasn't he, carlo?" "pretty near," nodded the apache gravely. "the thunder bird not only represented the deity but he had great power over rain, which is important in this part of the country. our people used to have great sacrifices to him twice a year." "human sacrifices?" asked fred innocently. at this even carlito burst out laughing. "where'm i off now?" cried fred. "there were no human sacrifices," replied the indian boy. "only the aztecs used to have them. our people and the other apaches, the navajos, moqui and neighboring tribes used to appoint deputies twice each year. they'd go to a certain place where the medicine men went through elaborate rituals, the deputies representing the tribes. no people is so symbolical as we are--or were. i mean by that in religious rites. for instance, every line of paint and every article used has a symbolical and often mystical meaning." "that gov'ment shark from washington," said jerry, "who was here last summer, knew a lot about that. he sent dad one of his books, and the whole thing explained a single six-day zuni corn feast!" "say, speed up, fellows. you jog along as though we had all day and to-morrow," and fly spurred up his pony, calling back, "race you to the turn of the road." for a few minutes the boys made the dust fly, and, despite the good start fly had made, windy came in first with carlito a close second. they kept up a brisk canter all the way to the ranch. "here come the other fellows, windy," said dunk, as they reached the b. p. windy saw two horses leave the corral now only a few hundred feet away. the two approached at a gallop and a moment later met the post boys with a yell. one of the b. p. boys was roughly and carelessly dressed and was brown as an indian. he was introduced to fred as herb phipps. the second wore a boy scout tenderfoot emblem on his flannel shirt. this was howard graystock, the new yorker. his face lit up as he saw the first-class and merit badges that decorated fred's shirt. "how long you been a scout, windham?" he asked as the party whirled and rode up to the corral. "'bout three years," replied fred, dismounting. "wish i was first-class!" rejoined gray. "i swore in about a week before i come out here." he lowered his voice slightly, "say, you back me an' phipps up strong, will you? don't say anything--you'll see pretty quick." fred laughed assent as all dismounted, and they joined the others. after turning the horses into the corral the party started up to the house but were stopped by a hail. looking around, they saw a large man striding around the opposite end of the corral. the boys from the fort gave him a shout of greeting and all waited for him to come up. brett phipps was big in every sense of the word. he had fought his way up from cowpuncher to millionaire by sheer strength of will and brains. although he had started on a texas ranch and fully shared the prejudices of the cow-men against the sheepmen, he realized that there was big money in sheep. therefore he had started the large circle b. p. sheep ranch near fort bayard where there was good water, although he owned a large cow range in the taos country as well. like the boys he was dressed in flannel shirt and wide stetson. over his trousers he wore chaps of plain leather, to protect his clothes from the wear of the saddle, and his legs from rattlers. he greeted the party vigorously. "well, i'm sure glad to see yuh, boys! hullo, new member? windham? glad to meet yuh! hang up on the veranda, boys, till i get these chaps off. right back." he disappeared inside the house, and the boys "hung up" on the wide veranda which was littered with canvas, reed and other easy-chairs. indeed, the veranda of the ranch-house served largely as an office and living room combined. both mr. phipps and the boys spent a large share of their time there. in a few moments the rancher returned minus his chaps, followed by a chinaman, the ranch-house cook, who greeted the boys with a cheerful grin of recognition. "what'll it be?" inquired mr. phipps, as he sank into a big chair and glanced around. "lemonade!" arose the shout, and the "chink" vanished. "carl hinted last night that you had something special on, herb," began dunk to the rancher's son. herb grinned and looked at his father. "not me," he said. "i reckon dad has somethin' under his hat, though." at this moment the celestial returned with a gigantic olla or mexican jar full of lemonade, together with glasses. "well, john, didn't take you long," said mr. phipps, as he tossed off a glass with a sigh of satisfaction. "him all leddy," grinned the chinaman. "let's get together, boys," commanded mr. phipps, with a sweep of his broad hand. "i've got to get over to three mile crick after lunch, so i reckon we'll hold a confab right now." the boys hitched their chairs up closer to mr. phipps and the lemonade, and when their glasses had been refilled the ranchman continued. "mebbe y'all don't know it, but there's been a lot o' devilment goin' on for quite a spell back. we've kep' it dark, hopin' to catch whoever done it, but no chance. there's somethin' or some one raisin' cain with my sheep. we've missed a lot o' lambs, plumb gone. we've found sheep with pieces o' their backs clean torn out, an' last week i come across a big ram all smashed to bits like he'd been dropped off a cliff. "night 'fore last young morales who has a hut ten mile north of here, hears somethin' doin' and rushes out of his hut. bein' a greaser he don't know any better than to yell. somethin' jabs him in the shoulder and he lets off his sixgun. then, he swears he heard wings an' was carried up in the air for a minute and was dropped. o' course all that's pure guff--yuh can't believe what a greaser says nohow. but jap fisher, my foreman, finds him yesterday lyin' with his leg broke, a couple hundred yards from the hut." "mebbe he wasn't lyin', mr. phipps!" broke in jerry excitedly. "listen." and he rapidly sketched their adventure of the night before. it was now the turn of herb and gray to stare, while mr. phipps listened in growing surprise. "jehosaphat!" he exclaimed when jerry finished. "that sure beats me! i figured morales was doin' a heap o' fabricatin', but he may 'a' told the truth for once. anyhow, here's what i had in mind. gray has been fillin' me and herb up with his boy scout stuff, so i want to know why y'all don't get busy? if yuh will, i'll put up for the equipment on condition that yuh get right after what's raisin' thunder with them sheep. you boys have a heap o' time hangin' heavy on your young hands, and yuh might as well be doin' somethin' useful. it'll save me bringin' in a lot o' men from silver city, an' as far as brain goes yuh'll have 'em beat a mile. how about it?" fred caught an appealing glance from gray, and though he hesitated to put himself forward, he was a loyal scout, and as he had taken a decided liking to the clean-cut new yorker, he felt obliged to comply with the earnest request gray had made when they met. "i think it's bully, mr. phipps," fred gathered courage to say. "of course i'm new out here an' all that, but i've been in the scouts pretty near three years now and it's done me a heap of good. more fun than a circus too." "sure, we'll do it!" cried dunk. "we'll lay for that thunder bird of yours, carl, eh, jerry?" "bet your life!" answered jerry fervently. "here wait a minute," cried mr. phipps. "what's this about the thunder bird, carlito? what do you know 'bout this thing?" "nothing, sir," replied the young apache with a smile. "i just guessed that it was the thunder bird. of course, i don't believe that. we could certainly have some fun besides being of possible use to you." "count me in too," cried fly. "aviator's badge for mine!" "same here," "me too." "that's what i say," came from all the boys. "good," shouted jerry enthusiastically. "carl can run the trailin' end of it an' dunk can boss the first-aid work an' windy'll be chief cook and bottle washer o' the whole bunch!" "there's the lunch gong," laughed mr. phipps, springing to his feet. "come on to grub pile! i've got to get away pretty quick, but y'all can have the ranch to yourselves all day. comin', hop sing, comin'. chase along, boys!" chapter iii the legend of the thunder bird immediately after lunch mr. phipps hastened off and the boys returned to the veranda to form their patrol. herb phipps was acclaimed chairman and the meeting was on. "first thing's nomination of officers," announced the chair. "shoot in some names, yuh guys!" "the patrol leader's got to be a first-class scout," grinned gray. "stand up, windy! i move the nom'nations be closed!" "here, hold on!" fred sprang up at once. "i'll only be here a few weeks, kids. what's the use? one of you had better--" "aw, beat it." "sit down!" "cut it out!" came from the others. dunk gained the floor. "second the nomination, mr. chairman! let's make windy leader while he's here, anyhow." "all in favor?" "aye." and fred was elected. carlito was then put up against gray for assistant, but the new yorker promptly withdrew and the young apache got the honor. the boys were then sworn by fred and gray together, and the patrol was a fact. "what we goin' to call her?" asked fly. various titles were proposed and voted down but finally carl came across with "the thunder bird patrol." this was greeted with a yell of delight, and was chosen without delay. "oh, windy!" called jerry from a swing at the other end of the veranda. "chase out to the kitchen and tell hop sing to give you the rattler lariat, will you? this swing needs tying up." fred promptly rose and vanished, suspecting nothing. at fort bayard the men had a standing joke on all tenderfeet. they sent them all over the fort asking for the "rattler lariat"--which is slang for whiskey--and as whiskey is a thing forbidden at the fort, the unhappy tenderfoot usually ended up under arrest. the crowd on the porch expected that hop sing would catch the joke as he had done before, and send fred out to the bunkhouse or corral to some of the men who would send him on farther. "thought mebbe it'd be good for him," grinned jerry in expectation. "windy's pretty solid, but he's liable to get the notion that being from the east he knows 'bout everythin' that's--wow!" the speech ended in a startled yell. jerry and fly had been sitting in the vine-shaded swing at the end of the porch, and from the vines beside them came an unmistakable rattle. jerry took one flying leap, lost his balance, and crashed into dunk's chair. fly followed him so closely that he tripped and all three rolled headfirst into carlito. at the same instant there was a rustle among the vines and herb jumped to the wall, where a revolver was hanging. "don't shoot!" came the laughing voice of fred. as he poked his head through the vines a shout went up and fred came around the corner of the veranda. "pretty slick," he laughed, as jerry scrambled up. "hop sing put me wise, though!" "say, did you make that blamed rattle?" inquired fly uneasily. "sure," grinned windy, holding up a string of rattles. "hop gave me these and showed me how to use 'em." "oh, what i'll do to that chink!" groaned jerry as the crowd shouted with laughter. but just then hop sing appeared with a platter of doughnuts as propitiation, and peace was made. during the afternoon fred and gray measured the others for their uniforms. these would consist of the breeches, puttees and coat, the latter being only necessary for trips up into the mountains where it was chilly. a complete list of everything that was wanted was made out and given to herb, who would hand it over to his father to be ordered at once. "ever see a cliff dwelling, windy?" asked dunk, after they had been measured. "no," answered fred. "any 'round here?" "sure," cried fly eagerly. "feller over at silver city has a tame one--built it himself! collects two bits each from tourists to see it." "shut up!" laughed dunk, and fired a pillow at fly. "there's a mighty good bunch of 'em over north of the post, windy. five or six real old mojaves there too. make baskets and stuff to sell. s'pose we ride over there to-morrow, fellows." this proved agreeable to all save fly, who was to help his father with some work. so it was arranged that herb and gray should come over early for the others and all would take a trip who could do so. "tell your dad," said jerry to herb, "that we'll start work monday. this is tuesday. if our uniforms ain't here it won't matter." "monday night, then," replied herb. "i can't see what there is to do 'cept just sit around and keep an eye on the sheep all night. we'll prob'ly scatter all over the range." the party returned to the garrison in time for dinner. all were in high feather at having actually formed a patrol. when the news spread around the fort that evening it met with general approval. "good for phipps!" exclaimed captain crawford, at dinner. "guess we can spare you chaps some service revolvers if you want 'em. how about it, gerald?" "fine!" cried jerry delightedly. "sure we want 'em." "we won't really need them, i s'pose?" asked fred. "you may," returned the captain. "especially if you're going up against that sheep-destroyer of phipps'. looks to me like it was some cattle men from the ranges over beyond the circle b. p. if it is you'll have to pass it up. if it's some animal or other, go to it!" herb and gray arrived before the sunrise gun boomed next morning, and after a hasty breakfast the party rode to the northwest. they soon found themselves among the hills that bordered the river, and about ten o'clock carlito halted them. "see that cliff yonder?" jerry pointed to a steep ascent that rose above the low water across the river. halfway up could be seen a crumbling ruin from which rose a trail of smoke. "there's a cliff dwellin', windy. looks like old tommy's home too." "tommy's the only mojave there who can talk any english," explained dunk as they splashed through the river. "we'll leave the horses down here an' hike up." leaving the ponies to graze along the river bank the boys began the ascent of a well-worn path. it had been hollowed out in places and made easier for visitors, so that they had no difficulty in reaching the cliff dwellings on the ledge. as they did so, fred, who had followed carlito closely, saw two wrinkled and blanket-clad indians with a couple of fat squaws, seated over a small fire. one of the chiefs was hideously tattooed on the forehead and chin, and the women were heavily ornamented with strings of many-colored beads and gaudy pendants. two of them wore large brass earrings. all had a miscellaneous supply of brass buttons distributed over their blankets. "hello, tommy!" called jerry cheerfully as he gained the ledge. "better bring over some more stuff! we've got some new people at the post. sell some baskets easy." the eldest mojave shook his head without looking up. "no tadavia," he returned. "no got. nex' week, mebbe. all gone." "you fellows show windy over the place," said carl. "i'm going to talk to tommy." squatting down beside the other indians, he broke into a flood of mexican. "come on, windy," laughed dunk. "carl ain't got no use for us now." at first fred was somewhat disappointed in the cliff dwellings, or what was left of them. only part of the walls were standing in many cases, the roofs having caved in, the remainder of the buildings being surrounded by fallen rocks and mortar. "i suppose these are a good many hundred years old," he said as he stepped into one of the better preserved caves which the indians had taken possession of. there was a rounded hole in the center of the stone floor where the inhabitants had ground their corn, and this was still in use by tommy and his friends. all the arrow heads and broken pottery had been taken away by previous visitors, but the walls were inscribed with strange characters, the sign language of the vanished race. queer animals of all sorts drawn in crude fashion, mingled with figures of dogs, snakes and mysterious marks of their own, were among the rough drawings. very little light came in through the narrow door and single small window, and when fred emerged and stood at the edge of the terrace the bright sunshine made him blink his eyes, and the fresh beauties of nature were a strange contrast to the dark, dusty interior of the cliff house. they were now far above the river, which could be heard below. opposite was a low hill or two and beyond the hills the blistering yellow and red of the desert. they were facing the garrison, which was hidden by the hills. behind them lay the mountains, and to the west a far-off snowy peak was just visible around the corner of the ledge. "she's fifty miles away," said herb, as he pointed to the latter. "looks about ten, eh? seems like yuh could toss a stone into them hills yonder." fred had not yet become used to judging distances in this country, where the atmosphere was wonderfully clear. it seemed almost incredible to him that the mountain was so far away. he would have liked more time to explore other of the cliff dwellings, for the strange sights held his interest, but the other boys, who had been over the ground many times, seemed to be growing impatient, and they all returned to where carl was still talking to tommy. they stood behind the silently working indians, whose faces were as expressionless and inhospitable as their bent backs. "just see 'em weave," exclaimed fred, as the large but deft fingers wound in and out through many colors of straw. "and listen to carl and that indian jabber," he continued. "i didn't know they could talk so fast." "oh, the indians around here are partly civilized," said jerry, who had been watching with them. "as long as they can get good trade for their baskets and beadwork, and do some swapping now and then, they seem satisfied." carl finally ended his conversation with tommy, and springing to his feet, in true indian fashion, he joined the other boys and sat down to eat the lunch which they had brought with them. after fred had induced tommy to part with a beaded buckskin knife sheath for a dollar, all returned down the winding path to the river. "well, i've got some red-hot news for you," announced carlito, as they left the river behind and headed back through the low hills toward the fort. "yuh must 'a' got it from tommy, then," returned herb. "yuh ain't done nothin' but jabber greaser to him and old alche-say. what's on your mind?" "why, tommy's the oldest buck anywhere around here," replied carlito. "i thought maybe he'd give me some dope on the thunder bird. i don't know anything but what i heard when i was a little kid, but i got him to loosen up. want to hear it?" "sure," cried dunk, and drew back his pony beside carl. "come on back here, windy! slow down, jerry. now we're fixed." "what i told you before," began carlito when all were riding in a bunch around him, "was true enough. deputies from the tribes met twice a year, spring and fall. this was all long before the white men ever showed up. tommy says--and he ought to know if anyone does--that somewhere up in the mountains north of here was the shrine of the thunder bird. it seems that there were three medicine men who kept an altar for offering sacrifices to the thunder bird three times a year, and there were great festivities in which the people took part. one year there was a big scrap on between the navajos and some of my own people. while the deputies were worshipping at the altar that fall, somebody said something, and the apache delegates pulled out hidden knives and killed a navajo. it was a rule that no weapons were allowed on the sacred place, and no sooner had the blood been shed than the thunder bird came down in a big-storm and killed the whole bunch with his lightning arrows." "and that's the kind of a monster we have to fight!" exclaimed fred. "oh, well, that's the way tommy told it. i suppose they really got struck by lightning. anyhow, everyone was killed, even the medicine men, except one brave who crawled away with the news and died. it was a sacred law that no one could visit the shrine in the daytime except during the sacrifices. everybody was scared to go after the bodies until next spring. then some medicine men tried it. they got about halfway when the thunder bird flew down in the dark and beat them off the path. after that it was said that the thunder bird was angry; so the sacred spot was left alone and gradually forgotten. each tribe of indians worshipped him at home, and the old custom was passed up. tommy says that nobody knows now even where the sacred spot is. when he was a boy an old man told him it was on a high peak in the mountains, but hidden by some rocks and boulders so nobody could find it. it's all a legend now." "that's funny," exclaimed jerry, as carlito paused. "how did the thunder bird knock those chaps around that way?" "search me," responded the apache. "he says the thunder bird was angry at having his shrine profaned with blood and wouldn't let it be used again." "sounds a whole lot like the thunder bird was after them sheep, herb," laughed dunk. "better get us medicine men's outfits, carl! we may need 'em!" "i think we'll need six-guns more," replied the apache gravely. "gee, it's goin' to be a real adventure," exclaimed fred, his bright eyes snapping. "but how are we goin' to start?" "well, if the thunder bird lives up in the mountains, why not try and find out where he roosts?" suggested herb. "anyhow, while we're waiting for our uniforms, we might take fred on a little hunting an' fishing trip up in the mountains, and mebbe do some investigating on the side," added jerry. "and talk over how we're goin' to get at the sheep stealer," went on fred. so it was decided that on monday the boys would go for a hunt and map out their plans. but they did not know what was to happen in the meantime to help solve the problem for them. chapter iv an aviator appears "hello, who's that talkin' to father?" exclaimed jerry next morning as he and fred came back from the range where they had been having a target contest to try out the service revolvers captain crawford had lent them. captain crawford called the boys over and introduced the stranger, a tall, trim-built young man, as mr. hawke. "i'm sure you boys will like mr. hawke," he said. "he's from the military aviation school at fort omaha, and knows how to build aeroplanes." this was enough to make the boys look upon hawke as a friend and hero, even if he hadn't smiled encouragingly and held out his hand. "i'm sure i'm going to like you too, boys, and i'm glad to know you're interested in aviation. i always like to see boys up-to-date." the boys hardly knew what to say to such a warm greeting as this, but fly put in his appearance at that moment and saved them from further confusion. "come on over here, fly," called jerry. "he's just crazy about airships," he explained, turning to mr. hawke. "then i want to meet him," said the aviator, his genial face lighting with a smile. "i'd rather meet you then santa claus," exclaimed fly, enthusiastically, feeling at home at once with the newcomer, and experiencing none of the embarrassment of the other boys. "i hope you're goin' to stay." "well, i'm planning to spend my vacation here. i didn't expect to arrive so soon, but some friends were coming this way, so i dropped in unannounced." "we all like this kind of a surprise," assured the captain, just as dunk rivers came up and said he was wanted on the telephone. "i guess i can leave you with the boys, hawke," said the captain, after introducing dunk. "you bet. i like boys--especially aeroplane boys." "maybe you can give them some pointers about the mystery at the phipps ranch," mr. crawford called back as he hurried away. "we'll tell you about that," volunteered jerry, in answer to mr. hawke's look of inquiry, and, assisted by fly, dunk and fred, he told the story of the runaway and the loss of sheep at the ranch. "and this trouble has been going on about a month?" asked mr. hawke. "looks to me as if your indian friend is pretty near right. it must be some kind of flesh-eating animal or bird that is doing the damage. so you boys are going to trail him down?" "that's the idea," answered dunk. "we've formed a boy scout patrol," continued jerry; "ordered our uniforms an' everythin'. fred's leader." "splendid," exclaimed mr. hawke heartily. "i used to be scout master of a bunch of fellows down at fort omaha, but my work got so pressing that i was obliged to give it up. i enjoyed it though." "gee, that's fine. glad you're goin' to stay all summer," exclaimed fred. "how are you going to carry on this hunt?" asked the aviator. "we haven't just decided yet," replied jerry. "got to figure that out." "if it's a bird it seems to me you ought to have an aeroplane," suggested mr. hawke, his eyes twinkling as he watched for the effect this would have on the boys. "it would be just the thing," cried fly. "of course," chimed in dunk. "we could fly right after him then." "that would be the way to do it," said mr. hawke, pleased with their enthusiasm. "can't you manage to build a machine here at the fort?" he added. "mebbe mr. phipps would help us out," cried fly at once, taking the suggestion seriously. "that's right," assented jerry gravely. "but we don't know nothin' at all about it," said dunk. "well, you boys come up to my room to-night," responded hawke. "i'll show you something you'll be interested in. come along and bring your friends. i suppose there are some other boys around here." "you bet; three more in our crowd. they're all bugs on aviation too," dunk assured him. "we want to get the boy scout aviation badge." "bully for you. that's the kind of talk i like to hear." hawke gave dunk a friendly slap on the shoulder. "now, i'm going to spend the afternoon with your father and captain crawford. good-bye till to-night." "ain't he a peach?" exclaimed fly, when hawke was out of hearing. "he's a _looloo_! gee, this is luck. aviator--scout master--everything nearly," agreed jerry warmly. "wonder what he's going to show us to-night," queried fred. "mebbe he's got some more ideas about the thunder bird that he didn't tell us," suggested dunk. "he's a prince anyway," jerry exclaimed. and in this all the boys agreed. fly had to go back to his work, and it was decided to call up herb phipps and tender gray, telling them to come over that evening on the aviator's special invitation. dunk said he would notify carlito. at eight that night all the boys met at jerry's and went together to mr. hawke's quarters on the third floor of the old barracks. graystock wore his tenderfoot badge, while fred had pinned on all his medals, including the one for aviation. carlito, herb phipps and his cousin edged into the room somewhat timidly, but the aviator's cordial greeting caused them instantly to forget their embarrassment. "i'm glad you managed to round up the bunch," hawke said, after the new trio had been presented. "this lesson won't have to be repeated. and," he continued, observing fred's decorations, "all of you scouts ought to be wearing aviation badges soon. that is, if you give careful attention to what i'm going to tell you." "we'll listen, all right," promised fred. "that's what we're here for." hawke smiled. "that reminds me. you fellows came pretty near missing the surprise i've got for you. when ike went down to silver city they told him my trunks hadn't come. he waited, however, and they arrived on the next train. he delivered them only a few minutes ago." the boys exchanged glances of inquiry. what had ike and the trunks to do with it? but hawke soon answered them by pulling a large steamer trunk into the center of the room. "get down here," he said, throwing back the top. the boys gave a gasp of surprise and were down on their knees beside him. lying in the trunk were the parts of a miniature aeroplane. "now, scouts," said mr. hawke, amused at their excited exclamations, "we'll put this together, and i'll show you the model of the 'thunder bird aeroplane.'" [illustration: "now, scouts," said mr. hawke, amused at their excited exclamations, "we'll put this together, and i'll show you the model of the 'thunder bird aeroplane.'"] "gee whiz!" exploded fly, who was the first to find his tongue. "what do you know about that, fellows? that's the name of our patrol." but the other boys were too deeply interested in what hawke was doing to pay attention to fly. the aviator took the parts to the table and began putting them together. "we'll make this a lesson," he said. "so fire in your questions." "well, i'd like to know how much that weighs?" complied fly at once. "about thirty pounds." "is it all there?" continued fly. "all but the engine." "an' how much does a real one weigh--i mean a big one?" asked dunk. "well, a full-sized machine built after this design would reach a weight of about , pounds or over, with the load." "how fast would it go?" asked herb. "about forty miles an hour," replied hawke. "whoopee!" cried jerry. "that's sure goin' some." "it doesn't seem to go that fast when you're up in the air," explained hawke. "if you are gliding close to the ground the speed seems terrific, but after you reach the high altitudes you hardly notice that the machine is moving." "they looked as though they was moving when i saw them at nassau boulevard meet," put in tender gray. "there was a half dozen of them up in the air at once most of the time." "all biplanes like this one?" asked fly, a little proud of his knowledge. "monoplanes too. bleriots, dumonts, curtiss, wrights, all kinds." "what you fellows talking about?" asked dunk, who knew little about the subject. "well, we mean, did they have two wings or one?" answered fly, in an offhand tone. "what's wings?" persisted dunk, not to be put down. "why this is a biplane," explained fly, with assumed grandness, putting his thumb under his armpit, "'cause it's got two wings, top and bottom--this and this." he pointed to the main planes. "a monoplane has only one wing, the top. and--" "stand back and give the professor room," interrupted dunk, with mock solemnity. "these wires look awful slim to me," said jerry, when the general laugh subsided. "you don't go much on 'em, do you?" "you bet, lots depends on them," answered mr. hawke, who was stringing light wires through miniature pulleys on the upper and lower wings. "they may look frail but in the full-sized machine they are the strongest piano wire." "what do they do?" "they really take most of the tension, and these struts take what is called the compression stresses. they're made of the lightest tough wood in the world--comes from canada." "wish't i understood all that," said tender in a rather discouraged tone. "you can't understand everything in one lesson," put in fred. "yes, that's right. we'll have to start at the beginning and go through," responded the aviator, with a good-natured smile. "but, of course, we haven't time for that to-night. i'm just giving you a general idea." carlito had said nothing up to this time, but he had been looking on very carefully, and listening with rapt attention. "looks like it would fly just like a bird," he said, when the model was finally completed, and the boys were inspecting it. "that's just it," cried jerry, remembering the conversation of the morning, "and we want one to chase the thunder bird with." "the question is, how are we going to get it?" objected fred, businesslike as usual. "we fellows ain't got enough money." "yuh ought to talk to father," said herb. "he said he'd give anything to get that rascal that's killin' our sheep. besides," he added, laughing, "i've been digging for an aeroplane for a long time." "do you think he'd help us out?" asked fly eagerly. "i think a talk with mr. hawke would do a powerful lot," responded the southerner. "cain't you-all come over sunday afternoon? dad's going to santa rita to-morrow morning to be gone till then." "yes, please go over and tell him what the aeroplane could do," urged fly, anxious to realize the dream which seemed almost too good to be true. "sure, won't you, mr. hawke," chimed in jerry. "all of you fellows come, cain't yuh?" asked herb. there was a rapid fire of affirmatives. "how about yuh, mr. hawke?" persisted the rancher. "why, of course. i'll be glad to take a ride over with the boys and meet your father." "all right, then, that's settled, and now it's time for us guys to go. tender and i have to ride to the b. p. yet. good night, mr. hawke. if it wasn't so late we'd sure like to give yuh three cheers." "instead, i'll shake hands with you all," responded the aviator, as they filed past him at the door. "and remember, i'm yours for the medals and the thunder bird hunt. and--if we can get it--the finest aeroplane that's been made yet." chapter v at the b. p. ranch although the sun was hot when the boys and mr. hawke started for the ride to phipps' ranch the following sunday afternoon, the air seemed cooled by an almost imperceptible breeze. it had rained the night before, and while the road was quite dry, there was less dust than usual. on one hand stretched the refreshed green pastures, spotted with many-hued wild flowers, making a gorgeous pattern of color. on the other hand were the towering mountains, their snow-capped peaks in marked contrast with the thick foliage of the forest which climbed halfway up their rugged slopes. rising above the timber line were bare gorges of rock. below lay the irregular foothills, thickly covered with cedars, pines and firs. but despite the compelling beauties of nature, which hawke and fred were enjoying in silent admiration, it was not long before the others, more accustomed to the sight which charmed the new-comers, began talking of the thing which they had all probably dreamed of the night before. "say, mr. hawke," queried jerry, who had been turning the matter over in his mind, "if herb's dad'll stand for that aeroplane, how long'll it take to get it?" "if mr. phipps should make such a decision as that," replied mr. hawke, who really had some doubt that he would, "we'll have it done in two weeks." "we'll have it done?" echoed fred. "what do you mean by that?" "why, i mean that i want you boys to help me build it," replied the aviator coolly, watching out of the corner of his twinkling eyes for the effect his words would have on the boys. "what's that?" cried the astonished dunk, unconsciously digging his heels into his pony, which reared, and started off at a brisk canter. mr. hawke smiled broadly. he was growing more and more fond of the enthusiastic and manly fort bayard boys, and was especially amused at dunk's frank expressions. after going a few rods, the latter got control of his horse and slowed the animal down for the rest of the party to catch up. "do you really mean that?" asked fly with flashing eyes, when they were all riding quietly again. "why not? we can get the material here in a week or less. then we can probably find a machine shop around here to work in, and, when we need it, build a hangar of our own." "gee, that sounds bully," exclaimed jerry. "you can use our place," volunteered fly. "we've got all kinds of tools, a bellows and most everything you'd need, i guess." "an aeroplane could almost be built in a carpenter shop," replied mr. hawke. "there's very little metal on them. mostly good strong spruce, bamboo and well-seasoned woods of different kinds." "what a chance that would be," reflected fly, more to himself than anybody in the party. "but, what if it shouldn't be a bird after all?" he asked suddenly, his face growing grave and anxious. "then we wouldn't need an aeroplane and everything would go to smash." instantly a cloud seemed to fall over the faces of all the boys, as they looked instinctively at mr. hawke. the latter found the sudden change in affairs too much for his humorous vein, and with a hearty laugh he dispelled the gloom as quickly as it had gathered. "we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said, finally regaining composure. "give fly a good punch, dunk," exclaimed jerry. "you're next to him." "there ain't no use in you givin' us all cold feet like that, fly," admonished dunk, by way of complying with jerry's request. "oh, it just seems too good to be true," defended fly. "i think i must be moving in a pipe dream." "leave it to mr. hawke," assured fred. "by the way," said the aviator genially; "hawke is good enough for me. cut out the _mister_." "all right, hawke," returned fly, with a strong accent on the name. the path turned to the left at that point, and took them through a rather scant growth of pine trees. the boys welcomed this meager shade, which was the first cool spot they had reached since leaving the fort. they stopped under the trees for a few minutes, and turned aside from the main road while a large freight wagon, loaded several feet above its top and covered with canvas, passed, drawn by six strong horses. it was followed by a smaller two-horse wagon. both of the drivers were greasers. "what you got on there," yelled dunk mischievously. the mexicans replied with a curious glance, and one of them gave the usual, "no sabe!" after wiping their perspiring faces with their handkerchiefs, the boys and hawke pulled out from under the trees and rode out into the sun again. it was not an unusually warm day for new mexico, but warm enough to give them some discomfort. "we might go out of our way a little and get a drink at the river over here," suggested dunk. "we'll have something better'n that to drink when we get to phipps' i bet," answered jerry scornfully. "he always treats us great whenever we go over there--and besides, we got company to-day." "i don't want to say nothin'," interjected fly, who had been thinking on the subject since his last remark. "but i do hope it is a bird." "say, you joy-killer, you calamity howler, cut that out, will you?" jerry pulled his pony over and gave fly a jab in the ribs. "if you don't quit, this will turn into a funeral procession. i'm gettin' cold feet already." at that moment carlito, who had been riding silently a little in advance of the others, spurred up his pony, and with a hasty "i think i see something," dashed on ahead. after a moment of surprise and hesitation, the others galloped after him. carlito did not go far, however, but before he stopped the others saw what he was after. when he pulled up, four or five chattering magpies flew complainingly from the ground, where they had been feeding on a dead lamb. carl slipped off his pony and the others followed his example. the party gathered around the indian, who was stooping over the animal and examining it closely. it was frightfully torn under the belly and its back was broken. "there's been somethin' doin' in the sheep stealin' line again," said jerry. "what do you think about it, carl?" "it's so badly smashed up i can't tell much, but it does look to me as if there were marks of claws--large claws," answered the indian finally. "but i can't tell for sure." "this must be one of the b. p. herd," conjectured dunk. "does it look like some bird had him?" asked fly, eager to settle the doubt which had arisen. "it looks like talons, all right. but i can't say positive. he's too riddled. i'll look around." carl separated himself from the circle and patrolled the ground round about. "if there was any tracks the rain last night washed them away," he said finally, satisfied that nothing could be learned by further search. "there could be no tracks of a bird, could there?" asked hawke. "if it's a big one, sometimes there's the sweep of the wings when they bear down on something." "well, let's ride on and see what mr. phipps has to say about it," suggested dunk, after they had thoroughly inspected the animal a second time. it was a hot, dusty and rather excited party that greeted herb half an hour later at the b. p. corral. "lost any sheep last night?" asked fly, as soon as the few words of greeting had been said. "half a dozen of 'em," replied the rancher's son. "dad's mad as all get out. says he's goin' to watch every night, and when that thing comes again he's goin' to blow it to kingdom come." "well, we saw one sheep down the road," informed dunk, "all cut to pieces." "a nice little lamb too," said fred regretfully. "shouldn't be surprised. we found a couple, and they sure was done for. now's the time for us to hit dad hard for that aeroplane." "glad to know yuh; come right up," was mr. phipps' cordial greeting as he came halfway down the veranda step to meet the aviator and welcome the boys. his cool, spotless linen suit was quite a contrast to the somewhat grimy appearance of the visitors. "we're pretty warm after that ride," apologized hawke, mopping his forehead with his handkerchief. "mebbe yuh'd like to go inside and wash up," suggested mr. phipps amiably, and his invitation was heartily accepted by all the party. "herb, show them around," commanded the rancher, and his son readily complied. the ranch-house, which mr. phipps had built himself, was a duplicate of the old homestead in texas. the roominess which the large, square exterior suggested was carried out in the great, wide rooms and high ceilings within. the spacious halls and stairways reminded one more of a magnificent southern home than of a new mexico ranch-house. oriental rugs in delicate shadings covered the highly polished floors, and the massive mahogany furniture and tasteful hangings gave the whole an appearance of elegance and refinement such as sheepmen are not reputed to have. "this is one of my venerable ancestors," said herb, when the party filed downstairs, refreshed. "yuh see, father's folks was french. this fellow is general dupont, and fought some good fights in the franco-prussian war. they say he never would have been killed, born under a lucky star like napoleon--only he lingered too long with a wounded comrade at the siege of paris." "and this lady?" asked hawke, pointing to a large portrait of a slim, dark beauty, dressed in white, and wearing a cluster of yellow roses at her waist line. "that's my mother." herb lowered his voice a little as he answered. "she died when i was a little tad, yuh know." "a very beautiful woman," said mr. hawke, quickly passing on to spare herb's feelings. "and this man looks like your father." "that was painted a long time ago," said herb. "it looks like you now," put in jerry, who had been inspecting the same painting, while the other boys walked up and down the halls and made an interested examination of the many large oils which lined the walls. "this is father's sister, who used to keep house for us. she died a few years ago. then we got hop sing." there was, then, hawke reflected, no woman in this immaculately-kept house, where there seemed to be so many evidences of the feminine touch. the rough rancher, it seemed, had that strain of tenderness so often found in outwardly brusque men, which expressed itself in his home. "this is just the way the house down south looked when mother died," said herb, as if in answer to the visitor's thoughts. "dad never wants anything changed. even her room is the same, and no one ever sleeps in it. one night we had so many visitors we thought we'd have to use it or be rude, but father slept in the herder's cottage instead. you'll always find a bunch of yellow tea roses in her room--she was very fond of them, and father grows them himself in the greenhouse." herb shook his head back with a sudden jerk, as though shaking off a painful twinge, and passed on to some relics which were hung in the next room. "this is general dupont's sword, and a medal which napoleon gave him for his services." after a few minutes they all returned to the veranda, where they found mr. phipps mixing some purple colored stuff in a huge punch bowl. the clink of the ice was an agreeable sound, for they were all thirsty. "this is my own grape juice punch," said mr. phipps, as he filled glasses for the chinaman to pass around. "my scheme is to have sing make it, and set it out here. then when the guests appear i am stirring it industriously, as though it were my own job." sitting in the shade of the vine-covered veranda, and sipping the iced punch, it was not long before mr. hawke and the boys were thoroughly refreshed and rested. the aviator felt entirely at home with the hospitable rancher, and they chatted like old friends. hawke noticed that besides holding vases of flowers, the tables were stacked with the latest magazines and popular books. he caught sight of a new york newspaper, and some from other parts of the country. there were hanging baskets suspended from the roof of the veranda, and the whole scene was restful and quiet, and even luxuriously comfortable. chapter vi winning an aeroplane "well, i see that the boys have got you into this sheep stealing mystery," began mr. phipps, when the glasses had been taken away. "another bunch of my sheep killed or ruined last night. it beats the world what's happening to 'em." "fly said they found one of them lying down the road," said herb. "i looked him all over," spoke up carlito, "and it looked to me like something with big claws had been at him, but he was in such shape that you couldn't tell for sure. then there were a lot of magpies feeding on him when i rode up and the claw marks might have been those of some bird that had alighted on him after he was dead." "well, this thing has got to be stopped someway, somehow." mr. phipps spoke with an emphasis that meant business. "herb and i have been talking it over all morning. he says yuh had an idea, mr. hawke, we might chase the thing, whatever it is, with an aeroplane." "i suggested that to the boys on the assumption that it was a bird," replied mr. hawke, noticing, with a twinkle in his eye, that the boys were moving their chairs closer and listening with tense interest. "we're sure it's a bird," chimed in the enthusiastic fly. "we were hit by it ourselves coming from silver city--and that rancher was picked up by it. what else could it be? you never see tracks." "it must be something that flies, anyway," argued dunk. "everything shows that." "but how could you get around flying after it at night," objected mr. phipps. "it never seems to come around in daytime." "oh, mr. hawke can fix that," exclaimed herb confidently. "with an equipment of acetylene lamps," assented mr. hawke. "they would give all the light we would need." "but you would probably have to shoot at him," protested mr. phipps. "i don't see how that could be done." "carl's the best shot there ever was," assured jerry. "he can shoot anything. even in the dark." mr. phipps and the aviator smiled broadly at this. "i should think if it were a bird," said the latter, leaning back in his chair, "the thing would be to chase it to its haunt and trap it." "that's not a bad idea," agreed mr. phipps. "with an aeroplane you could follow it at its own speed." "of course, mr. phipps, an aeroplane would not be an inexpensive proposition, and i do not say it would positively do the work, but the boys are very much interested in aviation and i suggested that they might help me build a biplane here which we could use in clearing up this trouble." "you mean, let us help in building it?" herb leaned forward in his chair while tender gray's eyes grew large with excitement. "that was my thought." "dad, that'd be great," exclaimed herb, his dark cheeks flooding with deep-hued red. "let's do it! you said i could have an aeroplane sometime, anyway." "i didn't expect to be taken so seriously," laughed mr. phipps good-naturedly, though there was no finality in his tone. during this conversation the boys had been suppressing their anxiety with difficulty. their eager, impulsive faces changed with every new argument put forth, according to its effect on their project. only carlito, the indian, sat impassive and solemn. but he was paying strict attention to all that was said. "hawke ain't talking hard enough," protested fred in an undertone to jerry. but jerry gave him a kick and his lips formed the admonition "keep still." "how much would the thing cost?" asked mr. phipps. dunk gave fly a punch with his elbow and fred hitched his chair closer. "about a fourth the cost of a factory-built machine," answered hawke. "you see, i can buy the material at first cost. with the help of the boys it can be built at the fort and i have an engine of my own which i can furnish. altogether, eight hundred dollars would see us through." "eight hundred dollars, eh?" mr. phipps seemed to be turning the matter over in his mind. "but you've lost a thousand dollars' worth of sheep already," urged herb, feeling that this was the time to press his strongest arguments. "if it keeps on we won't have any sheep left. besides, you know that the ponies got frightened a little while ago and broke down part of the corral. what if they'd all get out and run away? they're worth two thousand dollars themselves. and gee whiz, dad, think of what i'd learn in helping to build an aeroplane. just what i want." tender gray gave herb's arm a squeeze while the other boys regarded him with grateful eyes. "how long would it take to get this material?" asked mr. phipps, seeming to disregard his son's remarks. "about a week. i can get most of the stuff from kansas city. the northern spruce comes from denver. i'd have to order the bamboo from a new york house. my engine is at fort omaha." "i suppose you would teach the boys how to run the machine," queried the rancher, who appeared to have reached his decision and merely wished further assurance. "oh, certainly, that is part of the plan," responded the aviator. "well then, go ahead and get things together as soon as you can. but i guess a government aviator knows his business." extending his cigar case to mr. hawke, the southerner prepared for a leisurely smoke, as if, having settled the question, he would worry no more about it. mr. hawke settled back into the depths of his large wicker chair and lighted his cigar. the boys, however, did not take the matter so calmly. they broke into excited yells of delight. herb and tender gray did something like an indian war dance on the front steps. fred was pummelling jerry with a will, and dunk and fly stood talking with bright eager faces, making gestures with their hands and arms. the indian, though he smiled with satisfaction, sat quietly and looked on. "gee, dad, you're a brick," exclaimed herb, slapping his father affectionately on the back. "i like the enthusiasm of these boys," hawke told mr. phipps, when herb had joined his companions. "in all my experience i never came across a more promising bunch. there isn't a dullard in the lot." "to tell you the truth," answered the rancher, after a long drag at his havana, and regarding with kindly eyes the group at the end of the veranda, "the idea of showing them how to build the machine appeals to me about as much as the bird--or man--hunt, although that is an important factor of course. and i hope you may be able to land the thief, whoever or whatever it is." "say, boys," he added, in a louder tone, "you'd better all stay for dinner to-night, and we'll have a little moonlight party on the veranda here--how about it, mr. hawke?" "sure--you'll stay, won't you, hawke?" queried jerry, while all the others nodded their ready assent to the rancher's proposal. hawke was easily induced to fall in with the scheme. "and by the way," continued mr. phipps, "why don't you take hawke for a scouting expedition up in the mountains to-morrow, while you're waiting for your uniforms and the material?" "we'd just been talking about that," assented fly. "we thought mebbe we'd find the place where the bird lives." mr. phipps and the aviator smiled at this naïve response. "carlito can take you," said the southerner, "and herb wants to try out a new gun he has. suit you, mr. hawke?" "i'm here on a vacation," responded the aviator. "and anything like that sounds good to me." after a while the boys grew more calm, and the party on the veranda settled down to the quiet of the waning afternoon. mr. hawke and the southerner found topics of conversation in politics, aeronautics and affairs of the day. the boys separated into groups of two, some reading or glancing over the illustrated magazines, others talking in low voices, flipping penknives or whittling. at last the sun sank in a bed of red, gold and purple behind the tallest mountain peak, lighting up its snowy whiteness with vivid crimson and yellow, and deluging the sky with beautifully mingled colors, which gradually trailed off at each side into faint lavender. "this is the country for sunsets," said mr. phipps, as they sat watching the beautiful scene. "no king ever wore a more glorious crown than nature places on that old mountain's brow every evening, shining with colors as brilliant as the finest gems ever mined." when the last soft light had dwindled, twilight quietly settled over the scene, and the stars, like faint sparks of the sun's final salute, gradually came out clearer against the growing darkness. it seemed like an interruption when hop sing announced dinner, but his voice broke the spell, and the boys resumed their noisy chatter as they filed into the house. "this is thunder bird roast lamb," announced mr. phipps, as he whetted the carving knife. "the poor animal escaped the ravages of the destroyer only to be seized by the cruel headsman and quartered for my pleasure." the party had seated itself, with some commotion, around the great round table. the spacious dining room was softly lighted with shaded lamps. the snowy table cloth, shining glasses and silver, and a huge bunch of white carnations made the tempting viands look even more appetizing. there was no formality about the service. mr. phipps knew the capacity of growing boys, and saw that they were helped to liberal quantities of everything. hop sing was kept busy hopping from one side of the table to the other. the young fellows were entirely at their ease, and did not hesitate to ask for whatever they wanted, and as much as they desired. "hop sing is some fine cook," said fly, as the chinaman good-naturedly passed him his third helping of mashed potatoes. the celestial grinned. "melican show me," he said, pointing to the rancher. "whoopee, what'll hop say when he sees our aeroplane!" exclaimed jerry, and all the boys joined in the laugh that followed. "he'll want to go to a chinese heaven in a chop suey bowl sure," said herb. "he scrapes in front of his idol whenever he sees an automobile, which isn't often in these parts." the subject being thus introduced, considerable talk about the new aeroplane ensued, and when, happy and satisfied, they all returned to the veranda, they found sing putting up the last japanese lantern. "give us some coon songs, dad," asked herb, and instantly there was a clamor from all directions. "no--i don't do that any more," objected mr. phipps, but his misgivings were overruled when herb appeared with a banjo and guitar. "come on, let's give 'em 'drag the chariot,'" coaxed his son, strumming on the guitar. the boys, with hawke, had gathered around the rancher and herb expectantly. "what's this yuh got me into, yuh young scalawag," exclaimed mr. phipps, with mock anger, but he took the banjo and struck up a lively tune. one song was followed by another, until the whole bunch of boys, unable to sit still under the enchanting strains, had risen to their feet and were performing jigs of one style or another. it was soon noticed that fred had some skill in this direction, and he was urged to jig "turkey in the straw," and numerous other dances, until he sank down panting for breath. in the midst of their festivities there was a series of sharp barks in the direction of the corral, and then a regular din of neighs from the horses, violent barking from the dogs, and an occasional bleat. mr. phipps threw his banjo aside and quickly ran down the steps in the direction of the corral. the others followed him. they found the horses greatly excited, running pell-mell around the enclosure, almost pushing each other over, and some of them trying to climb up on the fence. the dogs were baying, and running about in a confused fashion. three sheep had apparently strayed from the herd and were standing by the side of the corral. "it's that confounded thing again," exclaimed mr. phipps, calling to the horses to quiet them, while herb went inside and endeavored to calm them. after a time the dogs, remembering their offices, got after the sheep and drove them back to the fold. "doesn't look as though there's any damage done, but you'd better get mike to go down and look over the sheep." as herb went off on this errand, the others returned to the house. "bothering the horses too," said hawke, when they had seated themselves. "that looks bad." "must have been chasin' those three sheep," mr. phipps conjectured. "i looked around, but couldn't see a sign of anything," said carl. when herb came back, he said he had gone down to the sheepfold but, as far as he could see, there was no further damage there. after a little further conversation, carlito and herb went after the ponies and led them up to the veranda. somewhat subdued in spirit, and a little disturbed, the party started off through the moonlight for the fort, after bidding a cordial good night to the hospitable rancher, his son and tender gray. "hurry along with that aeroplane, boys," mr. phipps called after them, and the boys cheered and waved their sombreros in reply. chapter vii in the mountains early next morning carlito was waiting for them at an appointed place with an indian pack pony. by seven o'clock all the party had assembled, including fly, who had succeeded in begging off from work. each of the boys had a stock of provisions, a coat as a preparation for the cold of higher altitudes, fishing tackle, lines and rods, all of which carlito strapped on the back and sides of the pony. each of the boys and hawke wore a cartridge belt and carried a stout stick to aid in climbing. herb had a brand new service revolver. fred, jerry and hawke carried guns, carl carried a bow and arrow, while the others brought rifles. fred had a camera and jerry a field glass. after an hour's tramp they reached the mountains. lower down the slopes the ascent was easy. patches had been worn by the feet of many travelers, here and there stepping stones had been roughly cut, no telling how many generations ago, and other rude steps had been formed by piling comparatively symmetrical stones upon each other. there were numbers of deserted cliff dwellings along the ledges, tucked in under overhanging rocks, and, higher up, perched in perilous spots over deep ravines and rushing torrents. the largest part of the snow had melted by this time, and the mountain streams were swollen to their utmost. farther down, their descent was not so remarkable, but before the day was over, the party stood awestruck on the side of many a rocky cliff and looked below at foaming, seething waters, dashing down the rocky ways. they had not gone far when they came across a group of indians, of which tommy was one, squatting on the ground, gambling. there were two squaws in the group, and they, like the men, were smoking. they were playing the stave game, carl explained, and sat, with stolid faces, throwing their sticks in turn. occasionally they would allow themselves a grunt of approval or displeasure, as their luck prompted. "how's it going?" carlito asked tommy, in mexican. the indian shook his head in reply, while one of the others grinned. after watching them awhile, carlito, followed by the others, started on. this was practically fred's first mountain journey, and he was very much worked up over the event. the cliff dwellings interested him exceedingly, and he wanted to explore them all, no matter how dangerous their approach. he had the eastern boy's desire for relics and kodak pictures, and in a short while his pockets were half filled with stones and other things picked up along the way. "gee, i wish we could get into that one," he said, pointing to a particularly lofty cliff dwelling, separated from them by a somewhat narrow, but deep ravine, and almost hidden by a great projecting rock and overgrown poplars. but when he worked nearer to the edge, and saw the rushing water below, and the sharp, jagged rocks that lined the ravine, he was dissuaded from the idea and satisfied himself by taking a picture of it. "a little farther up there's a dandy place to fish," said carl. "the water runs easy for quite a ways, and there's lots of trout waiting to be caught." "head for that," commanded fly, scrambling over a cactus bush which he had not noticed. "ow, wow!" he yelled, as some of the sharp thorns grazed his palm. "bring down one of those turkeys," said jerry to dunk, as a flock of wild turkeys flew over their heads. none of the boys claimed to be expert marksmen, but they soon found that hawke deserved that distinction. he succeeded in bringing down one of the flock jerry had referred to, though it was flying at a good height. it was nothing more than the boys naturally expected; in fact, they would have been disappointed if he had not proved himself excellent in everything. "there's just nothin' he can't do," dunk had said, and in this all the boys heartily agreed. "don't shoot too much before dinner," warned carl, as though he feared they might clean out all the game. "we don't want to do much of that till afternoon. too heavy to carry." "oh, i guess we won't have much of a load," responded fred, who had made three unsuccessful attempts. "i guess i don't know how to handle this new gun," was herb's excuse, when he failed to bag his game. by ten o'clock they had reached the point in the river which carl advised was good fishing territory. "we'll fish till noon," announced tender gray, "and then cook 'em." "yum, yum," came from several of the boys, who knew what a camp-baked mountain trout was. "i'm hungry already," said fly. "where's your line, carl?" asked fred, when all but the indian had sat down and cast their bait. "i never use one." the indian was standing with his bow and arrow, looking intently into the water. "just watch him," whispered jerry. after that there was little talking. perhaps there was a little unspoken competition among the boys for the first catch. now and then a trout came up for air, but for a while they seemed to be running the gauntlet of lines successfully. dunk's line caught on some floating weed, which he pulled out with a "shucks" of disappointment. finally there was a whirr and a splash, and carl's arrow flashed into the water. when he dragged it to shore with his bow there was a fine big trout attached to it, speared through the head. fred and hawke watched him with interest, but none of the others paid much attention. they had frequently seen him catch fish in this way. "hullo, there, windy, what's dragging your line?" yelled dunk. fred had been so busy watching carl that he hadn't noticed his shaking line. "more weed," said dunk good-humoredly. but fred fooled him by landing a fine trout. contrary to the expectations of most of the boys, hawke did not make any particular mark as a fisherman. he caught but one fish, and that smaller than the others. "guess my luck is going against me," he said, and the boys were very ready to believe it ill fortune instead of lack of ability. they had been fishing about an hour and a half, when a loud call from carl attracted their attention. the indian had been scouring the ground for evidence of game, and had probably found something. "come here, fellows," he shouted, "you've got enough fish for dinner." they all came running over, and examined a freshly dug hole he had found. "now, boy scouts, what's that?" asked hawke, his eyes twinkling. tender gray studied it seriously for a few minutes, and then announced: "looks like a shepherd dog might have done it." "i don't know much about wild animal prints," said fred, "but i suppose it was a bear." "that's a grizzly's trick," said carl. "he's been digging a root for his breakfast." "a grizzly," gasped tender gray. "do you think you could get him?" exclaimed fly. "if i can find his hole," said carl. "but how do you know he is there?" asked herb. "we'll follow these prints." the boys and hawke walked along beside carl as he pointed out the footprints of the grizzly. then he stopped. "see this little trail where the dirt has been dragged along?" asked carl. "well, that shows he was dragging something in his mouth, and he's probably gone home to eat it. the marks are fresh, so it wasn't long ago." "wouldn't it be a prize to have a grizzly!" exclaimed fred. "you fellows had better wait here for a few minutes, till i see if i can find his hole," instructed the indian. "if i can find that, we're sure of getting him or of him getting us." "suppose he gets after you, carl. better fire a signal," said fly anxiously. "he can't fire with his bow and arrow, bone-head," gibed herb. "i'll just shout," said carl. "but i can get around him all right. "i hope carl don't kill him before we get a chance," said fred, when the indian was out of sight. "he won't unless he has to," said jerry. "he's a mighty square fellow." "wouldn't mother have a fit if i should bring back a bear. and the scouts in cleveland!" fred's bright eyes shone with the prospect. in imagination he had already laid the grizzly low. carl finally came back with the news that he had found the cave. "now you just follow me--and don't make any noise. i'm going to walk way around and come up behind the cave--you follow. keep still." the indian started off like a stealthy panther, scarcely moving a leaf or twig. he leapt with the agility of a cat over rocks that lay in his path, and was obliged to pause now and then for the rest of the party to catch up, as they had considerable more difficulty. the low branches were inclined to swish as they passed, and it was not an easy matter to avoid crackling dry leaves and twigs underfoot. they fell and scrambled over rocks, and unlucky fly got into another bunch of cactus. finally they came to an open space, and carl pointed to a formation of rock. "in front of that is a hole," he whispered. "that's where the grizzly is. crawl up on top of the rock, over the hole, and get your guns ready. aim just as soon as you get a chance at him." the boys, though they were stout-hearted fellows, followed nervously. hawke had trailed and shot grizzlies before, and, though his sporting blood was aroused, he was willing to stand aside and let the boys try for the game. all of the other boys, except fred and tender, had previously been close to live grizzlies, but only carl had actually trailed one. the rock was large enough for all to climb upon, squat down and hold their guns. not one of the boys was at all afraid, yet the excitement made their hearts beat fast, and in their eagerness to succeed, they held their guns with rather unsteady hands. carl leaned over the edge of the rock, and deliberately yelled into the mouth of the cave. there was a low growl as he sprang back, but, after waiting several minutes, no grizzly appeared. the indian boy then took a coat which he had brought along, and dropped it down in front of the grizzly's hole. there was another growl, stronger than the first. and then another. it is difficult to describe the feelings of the boys as they sat there, almost on top of a real grizzly, and a live one at that. yet they dared not speak, and could only sit still, everyone at high tension, until something, they scarcely dared think what, happened. they felt a measure of safety, however, with carl and hawke along. finally the grizzly came out and sat down on the coat, looking around. then he raised himself on his haunches, and smelt the air. just as he caught sight of the boys, carl whispered as loudly as he could-- "now!" two guns boomed--herb's and fred's. the big animal rolled over with a furious growl, and lay kicking for a second. then he regained his feet, and, his teeth and red gums showing, was about to make a spring at the party on the rocks. jerry could not suppress a shriek, and fly was too excited to do anything but cling to dunk. hawke, however, was quick enough for the animal. he let him have it just before carl's arrow wedged itself in the animal's forehead. this time the grizzly rolled over for good, and gave very few parting kicks. carl sprang down from his point of vantage, and gave the bear a violent push with his foot, almost rolling him over on his back. the blood was flowing freely from the wounds, while the grizzly's open mouth filled with froth and blood, and his glazed eyes told plainly that he had dug his last root. "is he sure dead?" asked fly, who with jerry and dunk, had remained on the rock for safety. "did you ever see a live grizzly act like that?" returned herb, poking the animal in the side to show that he, at least, was not afraid. at this show of bravery all the boys came nearer. "well, let's carry him to camp," ordered carl, and, under his direction, the boys found two stout sticks which they run through the bear's feet, one through the fore and one through the hind feet where carl had made slits. when they got him back to their camp they strapped him on the pony and prepared for dinner. chapter viii the storm "gee, i could eat bear meat raw," exclaimed fly. "fur and all." "well, get busy, put on this grub," ordered jerry. hawke made himself one of the boys, put on the wooden plates, helped clean the fish, and broiled two of them. the indian had made a good fire of twigs which he had gathered, and had buried some of the fish underneath in the sand, to bake, throwing potatoes into the fire to roast. "look, fellows, mother put in a homemade cake," announced jerry, setting a tempting chocolate-covered cake on the papers which served as a table cloth. "doughnuts and pickles," announced fly, filling some wooden plates. "wow, chili sauce--hot--for baked fish." "con carni for anybody that wants it--i don't," put in herb. "bread," "sandwiches," "olives," and so on each boy announced gayly as his contribution to the feast, and, when they finally sat down in a circle, they proved their keen appetites by the way things disappeared. there was not much conversation during the meal. they were all too hungry to talk. "what's the use of hunting any more, fellows?" said dunk, at last, when there was some show of abatement on the part of the diners. "we can't do much better'n a grizzly." "what if we should get a deer," encouraged tender gray. "i saw some prints around here." "suppose you know as much about deer prints as bear prints," teased herb, remembering tender's mistake. "i guess those were our pony's prints," said fly, helping herb along. there was a general laugh, which tender took in good part. "well, i ain't been a scout very long," he apologized. "we're hunting for a thunder bird, too, you must remember," reminded dunk. "wish't some of you could read tracks in the air." "let's look around and see which way we're goin' this afternoon," suggested jerry, producing his spyglass. "there's pretty thick timber in that direction," said carl, as jerry pointed east. all the boys had a turn at the glass. "that's a funny looking rock up there," said fred, looking westward. "looks like a cliff dwelling." "you've got cliff dwellin's on the brain," remarked fly. "that's nothin' but a rock." "you look and see. if that ain't windows in there i'm a fish." fred handed fly the spyglass. "well, it does look kind of queer," admitted fly. "you look, hawke." "looks to me like a tower," announced the aviator, when he had studied the spot for some time. "like a square tower with windows!" prompted fred, glad to have his suspicions confirmed. "i guess that's one of these lookout towers," said carl, when he inspected it. "pretty high up, though." "let's go up that way," suggested herb. "might as well as any other. looks easier to climb, too." "i'd like to get a picture of it to take home too," said fred, whereupon jerry grabbed his hat, and gave him a tussle for it. "don't you want one of the windows for a souvenir," joked the southerner. "gee, i wish i'd gone into the souvenir business before you came. i'd gotten rich off of you." it was finally decided, however, to follow the direction fred had chosen, principally because it seemed to be less thickly timbered. it was a problem what to do with the pony. he would stand without tethering, but he might be bothered by wild animals. carl, however, soon solved the problem by clearing the ground for several feet around him, and then, gathering twigs and sticks, piled them around the pony in a wide circle. he then set fire to them, and, after they had a good start, smothered the flames carefully so they emitted a thin line of smoke. "i think that'll keep most animals away," he said, as they started for the climb. "it wouldn't take us long to get up there if we had our aeroplane," said fly. "would it, hawke?" "it won't be many moons before we have it now," responded the aviator. "i've ordered all the supplies, and i telegraphed to new york this morning so they'd make an extra special rush on that bamboo." "how many will it carry?" asked jerry. "can we all go?" "i'm figuring on using a special patent of my own," said hawke. "i have a certain device which i have worked out which will so equalize the balance that i believe i can carry six in safety. ordinarily, three is about the limit." "gee, i'm glad of that," put in herb. "i'd like to have all the fellows on." "you'll all have plenty of it, turn about," said hawke. "besides, i'm not saying anything, but i believe, when i get to work on the thing, i can fix it so we can take more. but i don't want to hold out any false hopes." "do you think we can build it in two weeks?" asked jerry. "that seems pretty good for amateurs." "not for such energetic young fellows as you," responded hawke, smiling. "and there's enough of us, if we all work hard." "i'll work hard, all right--we all will," exclaimed tender gray. "you bet," chimed in dunk. they had come to a rather difficult climbing place, and had to depend a good deal on their sticks as boosters. by catching hold of shrubs and pushing one another, they finally gained the top of a rather high point, with almost perpendicular ascent. they found themselves almost on the edge of a cataract, which they had heard roaring for some time. the foaming water was rushing down in great cascades, sending up white spray as fine as steam. "let's see that thing now," said fred, borrowing jerry's glass. "if that's a rock i'll eat it," he added. hawke also made another examination, and said as before that it looked like a cliff dwelling or tower. "it's quite a ways up there yet," he said. "we'd better get a move on us." they entered a heavy growth of timber shortly, and carl was obliged to come and take the lead. it was beginning to get cold, and all the boys had put on their coats. "it's most three, ain't it?" asked jerry, who had not brought his watch. hawke took out his timepiece and said, "just three." then he added: "do you think we can make this to-day?" "we can tell better when we get out of these woods," answered carl. "i think you'll be quite near it then." in a short while they reached the outskirts of the timber growth, and, as carl had predicted, found themselves very near the spot they had aimed for. they could see it plainly now, a sort of square dwelling or tower, the base of it thickly covered with various green shrubs and vines. but they were hopelessly separated from it by a deep and wide ravine, down which rushed a great torrent of roaring water. "guess we can't get at that," said herb after they had stood for some time silent on the bank of this cataract. "let's go back--unless fred wants to take a picture." "it's gettin' kind of dark for that," said fred. at this remark the others suddenly noticed that the sun had disappeared behind a cloud and the sky looked black. "say," exclaimed fly, "that looks like a pretty ugly cloud over there." "what if there should be a bully storm?" exclaimed jerry, eager for the excitement. "gee, i was in a mountain storm once," recounted herb, "and it was great. there was a couple of tenderfeet with us, and they was scared to death. yuh scared, windy?" "naw," replied fred scornfully. "anyhow, looks as though the sun has just gone behind a cloud and will soon be out again." "kind o' cold," complained fly, buttoning his coat. "say, i wonder--" he stopped, for there was an ominous rumble among the darkening clouds which were hurriedly crowding together like a dark-clad army maneuvering for a sudden attack. "that's old man thor," said dunk, who was something of a poet at times, and had read more extensively than the average boy of his age. "he's gettin' ready to hit us between the eyes. ain't you awful afraid, tender?" just then a blinding streak of fire cut its zigzag way through the black sky, lighting up every peak and crevice, followed by a sharp crack that broadened into a deafening roar and made the boys jump with surprise. "we're in for it, all right," said herb laughing. "my, this is going to be terrible, windy," he added with mock solemnity. they stood not far from the cavernous ravine, where, almost beneath them, they could hear the water tearing over the rocks. soon a swift, strong wind rushed out of the forest behind them, the trees bending and swaying helplessly before the mighty torrent of air. "there goes my hat," cried jerry, as his sombrero was swept from his head. "no use going after that," laughed hawke, for the hat was speedily blown over the precipice and whirled down into the ravine. the other boys quickly pulled their headgear down more securely. "that old tower looks like a picture," exclaimed dunk, as a bolt of lightning lit up the ancient structure and painted its somber walls with a vivid light more brilliant than sunshine. "why don't you take a picture of it, windy?" asked tender. "fine idea," exclaimed the clevelander, adjusting his camera. "i never had a chance to take a flashlight like this." almost as he spoke there was a report like that of a huge gun, and an accompanying line of fire. "did you see that, fellows?" exclaimed fred, when the noise had died down. "what?" came in a chorus from the boys. "didn't you see it?" fred repeated. "what yuh talkin' about?" asked herb, a little impatiently. "was you looking?" "come across, windy," exclaimed fly. "what are you driving at anyhow?" before the clevelander had time to reply to this question, they were startled by a most peculiar shriek which pierced the air, and seemed to cut to the very marrow of their bones. it came only once, but left the party hushed and silent. "must be an eagle," said carl finally, "though it's the fiercest i ever heard." "what was it you saw, fred," asked hawke. "well, when that light came, and i snapped the picture, i thought i saw something big and black floating around over there by that old tower." "i didn't see nothing and i was lookin'!" deprecated tender, doubtfully. "did you see it, hawke?" persisted the young photographer. "i blinked my eyes when the lightning flashed," replied the aviator. "well, i tell you i saw something." fred spoke with conviction. "and it looked like a bird." "maybe it was--the one that yelled," said dunk. "the thunder bird, maybe," shouted carl. "gee!" said several of the boys at once. "i'll bet we're near his shrine," continued fred excitedly, "and he's raising this storm." "aw, come off, you're dreamin'," discouraged tender, though half convinced. "i didn't see nothin' either," added jerry, unwilling to admit that he was a little scared at the supernatural aspect things were taking. "maybe the picture will show," said hawke. bang--a cannon seemed to be hurling great balls against an iron wall with a shock that reverberated in all directions. the tumult became so continuous as to make conversation impossible, and the frequent flashes of light gave the timber the appearance of being on fire. the boys stood silent, rather enjoying the spectacle, though they were shivering with cold. after a while the clouds spent their gathered energy and the rain fell in great torrents. very soon the boys were drenched to the skin, but there seemed no escape. to go into the timber was dangerous, and blocking them in front was the yawning chasm. "if we could only get at that old cliff dwellin'," suggested fly, "we might find cover." "we'll have to wait until we get our airship, to do that," laughed hawke. "there's a big rock down here," said carl, returning from a short excursion which he had made along the side of the cascade, looking for shelter. "i think we can crowd under it till this is over." the others hastily followed him, and were soon shielded from the rain under a huge, projecting boulder situated almost perilously on a smaller rock. there they waited for some time, and about five o'clock the storm abated as quickly as it had arisen. "wonder where our pony is by this time!" speculated fred. "no telling," answered the indian boy. "i'm afraid he's gotten scared and run away." "with the grizzly!" tender's tone was regretful. they started back in the gray light of the obscured sun. hawke hurried them, having an older person's concern for their welfare, and fearing they might suffer some bad results from wet clothing and cold. chapter ix a strange meeting "there ain't no chance of our pony's bein' there," remarked tender, thinking more of the grizzly than anything else. "they'll think we're tellin' a fish story about that bear." "if it was my own pony," said carlito, "i wouldn't be afraid to bet my best quiver that he'd still be there. this one i don't know." their homeward journey was somewhat different from the climb upward. the ground was soggy and wet with soaked leaves and mud, while water constantly dripped upon them as they passed under the trees. the sun, now setting just above the peak, gave a wan light through a half-mist, half-fog, which had arisen. they were still in rather high altitude, and the air was moist and cold. creeping things, frightened into their holes by the storm, now ventured forth and skimmed across the ground frequently, disappearing again under the scraggy underbrush. "soon be time for the bats and owls," observed dunk, as a surprised lizard hurried across their path. though they were all damp and chilled and anxious to regain their original camp, the boys kept up a cheerful conversation all the way. "funny you fellows didn't see that bird," said fred. "there wasn't no bird," twitted jerry. "you just blinked your eyes when that flash came, and dreamt the rest." "on the square though, fellows," seriously commented herb, "fred may be right, and that old tower may be the very place we're lookin' for." "it's worth while thinking about," said hawke. "we'll fly up there anyway, as soon as we get the aeroplane going." "seems to me that's too good to be true," reflected fly. "i never thought, when i was readin' all that stuff about machines, that i was goin' to see a real one, and help build it myself." his tone was so droll that some of the others laughed. "give fly a handkerchief," groaned tender. "he wants to blubber, he does." "don't feel so bad about it, old boy," comforted jerry. "maybe the train with the stuff on it'll be wrecked, or hawke'll change his mind, or we'll find out that it's been greasers doin' the dirty work." "guess i'm kind of a howler," admitted fly. "but watch me work when we get at that plane." just then carlito picked up a long, thin snake, which had wiggled across the ground in front of him, and, swinging it around and around by its tail, sent it whizzing through space. "nothing but a garter snake," he explained, laughing, as gray unconsciously ducked his head, and fred gasped with astonishment. "i usually twist their heads off." "wonder you don't get your foot in it some time, carl," declared fred. "ain't you afraid of nothin'?" "no bad luck can happen to me," said carl confidently, though with a smile. "see this?" he pulled out from under his wet shirt a string to which was fastened a large blue and white streaked stone bead. "what's that?" asked several of the boys. "a charm. taken from the grave of one of my ancestors. there were just two in our tribe, and an old squaw gave it to me before i came to the fort. some one else in the family has the other one. she said it was the family charm and nothing could happen to me as long as i wore it." hawke smiled at this characteristic explanation, but the boys took it very seriously. "remember anything about your father, carl?" asked the aviator, interested in the story nevertheless. "they told me he was the bravest man in his tribe, and the swiftest runner. they wanted to make him chief, but his older brother, who was not so well liked, wanted to be made chief also and grew jealous of my father. one day a party of them went out on a hunt, and my father was separated from the bunch. they found him later in the forest, lying face downward with an arrow straight through him. everybody thought my uncle did it. he went away soon after." "what about the old squaw?" inquired gray. "oh, she died just before i came here. she was over a hundred. i have her old pipe. she gave me a lot of things that were my father's--a fine quiver and his bow. i remember what she said when she gave it to me. 'your father was a brave man and a great hunter,' she said. 'see that you do not disgrace him.' i have the arrow that killed him, and the blanket which my mother wove. they're in my room at the fort." by this time the mist had lifted and the sun had gone down. they were walking in a narrow passage which almost amounted to a gorge. huge jagged rocks jutted out here and there on either side, many of them squeezing between them some deserted cliff dwelling. rugged brown shrubs clung stubbornly to the sides or grew sparsely on the surface wherever they could find soil. the whole scene was softened by the warm colors of the departing sunlight. "good-bye pony!" exclaimed fred, when they reached the spot where they had left the animal. "nowhere in sight," added fly. "call him, carl," urged herb. the indian gave a series of calls, but there was no response. the wind and rain had entirely annihilated any trace of the fire they had made for the pony's protection. "maybe he doesn't answer to a call," said carl. "or maybe i didn't have the right one. just for fun i'll try an old one." more in jest than in earnest he emitted a peculiar weird sound, based on several tones of the scale. no answering whinny came. "i didn't think he'd know that anyway," said the boy. "i never heard it but once. an old chief taught it to me and said it used to be my father's call." "let's scour around a little," suggested gray. "all right. you stay here, and i'll see what i can find," replied carl turning to the left. but he stopped short. in front of him stood a tall, stately, blanketed indian. his whole face was hideously painted in various colors running in stripes backward from the nose, across his forehead and chin. his arms were folded, and his countenance was set and expressionless. a flashing pair of beadlike eyes, almost snaky, were fastened on carl. [illustration: carl stopped short. in front of him stood a tall, stately, blanketed indian. his whole face was hideously painted in various colors, and his countenance was set and expressionless.] "whilligers, where'd he come from!" whispered fred, as the boys stood perplexed and amazed at this apparition. nobody had heard him approach, or seen him, until they discovered him standing like a carved statue, coolly regarding carl. "hello, what do you want?" chirruped carl, cheerfully, not at all abashed. the older indian drew himself straighter, if possible, and replied in his own tongue, which carl afterwards said was original apache. "where did you learn that call?" demanded the tall stranger, almost fiercely. "it belonged to my tepee," responded the boy. "you apache?" "yes." "umph," grunted the indian, and stood silently, with his penetrating eyes fixed on carl. "you are no true apache," he said finally. "you wear the clothes of the palefaces, and live with them. you hunt with them. you care nothing for the trials and sufferings of your fathers--the big chiefs in the land of the happy hunting ground." carl said nothing, but watched his critic curiously. he had unconsciously drawn himself up to his full height, and, though slighter, his form matched in symmetry, grace and stateliness that of the older man. "i bring back to my people the religion of their fathers," continued the stranger. and he threw open his blanket. carl and the others started, almost with horror. the broad, brown chest was entirely tattooed in flaming vermilion with the design of a huge and ferocious form of an eagle. "i go to look for the thunder bird and his shrine," said the indian, wrapping himself again, and pointing majestically upward. "my people shall worship him again, and thus shall i gain favor with the great spirit whom i have displeased." he turned and started off in the direction from which the boys had come. suddenly he stopped short and turned back. "where is your tepee?" he demanded of carl. "at the fort." "the tepee where you learn the call?" impatiently reiterated the questioner. "in the far-away country," answered the indian boy. "i do not remember now. i was taken away when a child." the older indian looked at him steadily, as though he would penetrate the boy's soul and read the history of his life. then he grunted and went on. "well, i never saw him before," was carl's first remark, as the retreating figure disappeared around a bend. then he translated to the boys the queer conversation. "and he's looking for the thunder bird," repeated hawke. "that does seem odd, doesn't it?" "he went in the direction of the tower, too," put in fred, glad to have his contention strengthened by this occurrence. "acts to me as though he'd sort of lost his mind," went on carl. "some of the indians get to thinking about their wrongs until they go bugs." "better lookin' than any of the old indians around here," remarked dunk, thinking of wizened and wrinkled old tommy. "funny he knew that old call," reflected carl. "wonder where he came from anyhow?" "well, i suppose he'll turn up again, if he's wandering around here long," commented jerry. "looks kind of savage." "anyhow, that's not findin' our pony," reminded fly, and carl started off to explore the near-by timber. "or gettin' home and gettin' warm," added herb, registering the first complaint. "if fly don't dry his hair it'll get rustier," chimed in jerry. "might as well go back," advised carl, returning from a short, unsuccessful search. "no use of us standing around here shivering. maybe our friend the big chief took him along." "perhaps he thought he was white man's property and would take him for some of the debts we owe the race," suggested herb. "but i don't care for nothin' but the grizzly." two hours later, when they reached the fort, dirty, tired, muddy and damp, they found, to their great surprise, lying on the captain's front porch, stretched out at full length, the dead bear. "hello, fellows," shouted captain crawford, coming out of the house. "we were getting worried about you. glad you showed up. the pony came back, and i see you got acquainted with a grizzly." the ladies appeared in the doorway, while jerry's father went over and gave the bear a push with his foot. "that's a beaut," he exclaimed. "who bagged him?" "hawke," came the instant response. "we all did," corrected the aviator. "and we had a great time doin' it." "gee, we've had a corker of a day," exclaimed jerry. "lots of things happened." "get inside here now," ordered the captain, and the ladies quickly approved this advice. "take off your wet duds. jerry, give the boys some clean things." "guess we'll go home," said fly, speaking for carl and dunk. "say," he added, anxious to break the news, "we think we've found the thunder bird nest." "you better get under cover before you catch the rheumatics," laughed the captain. it was nearly dusk now, and the white moon had appeared in the east, floating gently over restless, shifting clouds, but the evening was as serene and clear as if it had succeeded a calm, uneventful day. after putting on an outfit of dry clothes, herb and tender started for the ranch, where they found mr. phipps waiting for them, and hop on hand to take care of their wants. after some warm broth they sat up late into the night relating the day's events to the interested rancher. as for carl, he sat up for an hour studying as was his custom, then lay awake for some time staring thoughtfully into the darkness of his little room, which was a small one over fly's machine shops. "wonder who that indian was," he pondered. "a real apache, and he knew that old call. lookin' for the thunder bird. what if he had known my folks?" but soon his thoughts trailed off into dreamland, and he slept as only active boys can, until another day of promise dawned. for every sunrise in the life of a boy foretells a day of events. chapter x the patrol becomes a fact when ike returned from his customary daily trip to silver city the following wednesday morning, he brought with him two large boxes addressed to herb phipps, and a letter for fred bearing the return address of a large boy scout furnishings firm. "i'll bet it's the uniforms," exclaimed jerry, referring to the boxes. "see what the letter says, windy." "guess it's answerin' the letter i wrote 'em about the patrol," remarked fred, tearing open the envelope. "yep," he announced, "it's from the scout commissioner at albuquerque. listen to this: "'dear sir:'" (fred swelled his chest, and looked very dignified.) "'i am glad to know that you have formed a scout patrol at fort bayard and i certainly wish you every success. i am sending under separate cover a boy scout handbook for each member of your patrol, badges bearing the insignia of an eagle, the nearest thing that we can get to the name of your patrol. learn the call of the eagle, if you do not know that of the thunder bird, as it is the signal of your patrol. you will also receive a flag with a picture of your patrol animal stamped on each side. "'i happen to be acquainted with mr. hawke, who is sojourning in fort bayard. he would make a capital scout master and i am asking him by this mail to accept that appointment. i am sure he will be of great assistance to you in training the members of your band, and in helping them to earn merit badges and medals, for i know you are all ambitious to gain as many as you can. "'yours very truly, "'george stanton, "'_scout comm'r._'" "whoopee, what do you think of that?" yelled fred, throwing up his hat. "with hawke to help us we'll make a crackerjack out of this patrol and run them out of merit badges and medals. maybe i can get the eagle medal." "what's that?" "it's the medal they award to the scout gettin' twenty-one merit badges. you know i only have four now," answered fred. "let's call up herb before ike starts over to his place, and tell him the things have come." "all right," assented fred eagerly, as he followed jerry into the house and to the telephone. "hello, herb," called jerry, when he had obtained the connection. "things doing over here at the fort." "that so? what now?" "think the uniforms are here--at least there are two big boxes--one from kansas city and another from new york." "gee whiz," shouted the southerner. "that's what they are, all right. dad got a letter yesterday sayin' they'd be here soon. say, yuh just hold 'em till tender and i get over there; we're just gettin' ready to ride over to the fort." "all right. hurry up. got somethin' else to tell you," said jerry, remembering hawke's appointment. "what is it?" asked herb eagerly. "just wait till you get over here," teased jerry. "all right, stingy." "and say, herb, father's got some business on hand this morning with a fellow from san jose. guess we can't have the mix-up here; makes too much noise. let's have ike take the boxes to carl's room." "that's fine. and don't open 'em till we get there. tender an' i will be over in a jiffy." "fine work!" declared carl heartily, when jerry and fred called on him and informed him that the uniforms had arrived. "sure, bring them all over here." "i'll go and get dunk and fly," volunteered jerry; "fred can look around at your things," for he noticed that his companion had already begun an inspection of carl's small library. the indian had built a workmanlike row of shelves around his room, and these were crowded with books of all sorts, some of which he had bought out of his scant earnings, and some of which had been given him. everybody at the fort knew that carl was what they termed a "bookworm" and at christmas he was well remembered with the article he craved. there was very little fiction, but fred found ten grammars, six arithmetics, four histories--two of the united states--spellers, algebras, two biographies of lincoln and franklin, and the life stories of nearly all the great men of america. there were even text books on chemistry, astronomy and architecture, for, in his thirst for knowledge the young indian found all subjects attractive. the clevelander was also surprised to find a bible, which his interest prompted him to open and examine. there were marginal notes in a youthful hand, presumably carl's writing, and passages underscored. the indian boy then, thought fred, was as straight and true as his stature, and the high degree of honor which the boys and all at the fort ascribed to him was well deserved. there was a cot and several chairs in the room, all of which had been made by carl himself. a worn blanket was stretched across the spotless floor. in one corner stood an old bow over six feet long, the one carl had spoken of as belonging to his father. there was but one picture, and it puzzled fred somewhat. it was a large engraving of an imposing structure, much like a university building. there was no inscription, and the style of engraving stamped it as old. "what's this?" he asked carl, who was stringing his bow and seeming to take no notice of fred's examination. "one of the soldiers here gave it to me and said it was the college he graduated from. i like to look at it." then in answer to fred's look of inquiry, the indian added: "it helps me to save my pennies when i want to spend them for a traveling show at silver city." "helps you save your pennies?" puzzled fred, not comprehending the indian's meaning. "yes. i'm trying to earn enough to go to a real school when i'm twenty. never too late, you know. i've been through the grammar grades." "you have!" exclaimed fred. "i thought the boys told me you hadn't been to school." "correspondence school," explained carlito. "here's my certificate." he had arisen and taken a long envelope from the top drawer of the chest. the certificate testified that carlito had satisfactorily passed all examinations, and was a full-fledged graduate of the correspondence school. "how did you do it?" exclaimed fred, his frank eyes shining with admiration. just then jerry, fly and dunk came into the room. "do what?" inquired jerry. "i was looking at carlito's certificate," replied fred, assuming that the other boys had seen it. "oh, i studied nights a little, and whenever i got a chance," answered carl, modestly. "a little!" echoed fly. "he just studied his old head off." "why didn't you go to college when phipps wanted you to, carl?" asked dunk. "he was willin' to pay your way." "i was afraid i could never pay him back," said carl. "an indian has no business owing anything to a white man, anyway." "here's herb and tender," shouted fly, who had gone to the window. the southerner and his cousin were soon in the room, hot and perspiring from their rapid ride over. "good mornin', gentlemen," greeted the rancher's son cheerfully, throwing aside his hat, and pouring out a glass of water from a pitcher which stood on the table. "have a drink, anybody? no? then i'll drink it myself," and he drained the glass. carl quickly brought another one for tender gray. "make room for ike," ordered herb, as the darky came laboring up the stairs, a huge box on his back. the boys met him at the landing, and helped him to deposit his heavy load on the floor. "dere's some more," announced ike. "greaser just brought one over for mr. fred windham." "what's that," exclaimed the latter in surprise. "oh, i guess it's that stuff mr. stanton spoke about in the letter," he recollected. "yuh fellahs must be gwine to start a store foh sure," exclaimed ike, as he dropped the second box with a thud. "look out--that one was full of ripe watermelon," responded gray. "oh, golly," groaned the negro, "an' i 'most drapt it." "be very careful of the next one," warned jerry, with mock seriousness. "it's loaded with spring chickens." "oh, das easy--i'll jes' open de box and let 'em fly up," answered the darky, dodging the hat which gray pitched after him. "eeny, meeny, miny, mo--which one shall we open first?" queried herb, when the three boxes had been set down in the room. "let me do it," volunteered ike, with some curiosity, but a hasty chorus of protest stopped him. "we want to do it ourselves," explained fly. "it's more fun." "you'er gwine to litter up this here room scan'lous," was the negro's comment, as he departed regretfully. "i'll clean that up," hastily assured carl. "the big one first," urged dunk. "all hands on deck," ordered herb. "say, windy," interrupted jerry, halting the proceedings. "show the kids your letter." "i clean forgot that," ejaculated the eastener, pulling a soiled envelope out of his pocket. "i been readin' it," he explained guiltily, referring to its murky condition. work on the boxes was suspended for a few minutes, while fred read the letter aloud. "things sure are comin' our way," said herb, when the general shout of approval had died down. "where's hawke this morning?" "i saw him right after breakfast, and he said he was coming over. he got the letter about being scout master, and--" "there he is now," broke in carlito, hearing a firm step on the stairs. "howdy, fellows," hailed the aviator, as he came into the already crowded room. "good morning, scout master," greeted dunk, bowing low, while the other boys followed suit. "i see i have another job on my hands now," said hawke, good-naturedly, "but then i don't think you'll be hard to train." "we're sure glad you're going to be one of the bunch," answered herb cordially. "these are our scout outfits," explained fred, noticing that hawke was regarding the packing boxes with wrinkled brows. "just going to open them," added fly, anxious to get at the work. "let me help," exclaimed hawke, peeling off his light coat, and rolling up his shirt sleeves before any protest could be made. for the next few minutes they busied themselves with the lid of the largest box. "uniforms," they shouted, when herb had opened one of the smaller pasteboard boxes of which there were a number contained in the larger enclosure. "this is yours, fly," he added, noting the name and measurements which were pinned on the trousers. as the packages were properly labeled, each boy was soon in possession of his own suit. after a quick but admiring inspection of the outfits, the second box was eagerly torn open. it contained a hospital corps pouch for each boy, penknives, haversacks, mess kits, signal flags, whistles, sanitary drinking cups, canteens, red cross first aid outfits, camp supplies, and last, but not least, seven brand new shining remingtons. each new article was met with shouts of delight and surprise. "i don't remember ordering these," gasped fred, when at last they had reached the bottom of the box. "oh, dad thought yuh might as well have a good supply," explained herb, "so he wrote to a friend of ours in new york and got these to surprise yuh." "ain't your father never going to quit doing things for us kids?" asked dunk, stroking the slender, glittering barrel of his new gun. "i wish we could do somethin' real fine for him," chipped in jerry. "dad don't want thanks. he just likes to be doin' somethin' for somebody all the time," herb assured them. "he always was that way." "well, we're certainly going to get after that sheep stealer," declared carl. "you bet," echoed fly, with a will. chapter xi a surprise for mr. phipps the third box, addressed to fred, proved to be from mr. stanton, containing the handbooks, badges and patrol flag. after distributing the badges, and admiring the flag, each of the boys made a hasty examination of his book. "how we goin' to learn about first aid to the injured?" inquired gray. "oh, dad'll teach you that," responded dunk readily. "he said he would." "and hawke's going to teach us aviation, and carl can show us trailing," began jerry. "and my dad'll show you craftsmanship and machinery, and we all know swimming," cut in fly. "whoopee, fellows," shouted fred, "we've got nearly all the badges now!" "who knows all the states in the union?" asked hawke with a smile, reading from the scout handbook. it was found that only carl and fred could stand this test. "who can tie a bowline knot?" demanded dunk. "say, this ain't no schoolroom," objected jerry. "i see we've got to work some for those badges," he added thoughtfully, "but it's fun just the same." "tell you what we'll do," burst out herb suddenly, throwing down his book, his dark eyes snapping. the boys were ready in an instant for anything he might suggest. "let's get on all these duds," proposed the rancher, "have a regular scout tramp over to the ranch and surprise dad with a dressed-up parade." "bully for you," shouted fred. "can't we borrow a drum somewhere?" suggested dunk. "dad's got one i can get," offered jerry. "jerry's some drummer too," said fly. "all right, get a move on you," ordered the southerner. "it's just ten now, and if we start right soon we'll get there about time for dinner." about a half hour afterwards, captain crawford was drawn to his window overlooking the parade grounds, by the martial sound of drum beats. "well, i never," he exclaimed to his wife, who hurried to join him. filing past the house two by two, in regular order and military step was the new boy scout patrol, uniformed and carrying bright new rifles. fred, bearing the flag, was slightly in advance, while just behind him was the tall form of their son, dexterously flipping the drumsticks and rolling out rhythmic march time. not once did any of the paraders turn in the direction of the house, although they felt they were being observed. captain crawford leaned out of the window. "hurrah for the th infantry," he shouted. "i mean the seven infants," he amended laughing. the boys maintained their composure with difficulty at this sally, but following fred's leadership, wheeled and marched up, abreast, to the front steps, where they stood marking time. "at your service, captain," announced fred, saluting. "present arms, shoulder arms, port arms, order arms!" commanded jerry's father. the bewildered company started to comply, but the orders came too fast for them, and soon their efforts were checked by a merry shout from the captain. "back to training camp," he ordered. with a general laugh the boys broke ranks. "we're goin' on a scout tramp over to phipps' ranch," announced jerry. "this is a good day," assented the captain. "been kind of cloudy all morning, so you won't find it very warm walking." "how do you like us," asked fly, looking down at his khaki trousers, while the others looked up expectantly. "you look like regular soldiers," commented mrs. windham, who had joined the captain and his wife at the window. "your suits are very pretty," put in mrs. crawford. "ha--ha!--your mother says the suits are pretty," reiterated the captain. "guess that's handing it to you." "oh, as for us," retorted fred. "we're just plain handsome." "tell phipps he's spoiling the whole bunch of you," enjoined the captain, as the party started down the road that led to the ranch. they had been unable to bring all their new equipment, but the canteens were strapped on and each boy carried his remington. the whistles, drinking cups and penknives were safely stowed away in trouser pockets. on their shirts were pinned the new boy scout badges. "sorry hawke couldn't go," said dunk. the aviator had some business letters on hand, and chose to remain at the fort. "ever develop that picture you took in the mountains?" asked fly of fred. "yes, but it was no good. something the matter with the plate. hawke's got the proof," responded fred. "order, now," he added, with pretended severity. "remember, left, right, left, right, ready," and the boys started off in correct step. about midway in their tramp they met a group of indians, of which tommy was one, returning from a search for customers for their baskets and bead work. "pike along slow, fellows," said carl. "i'm going to see if tommy knows anything about our friend of yesterday." he engaged the old indian in conversation, while the other boys parleyed with the squaws over their wares. after some good-natured teasing, fred bought a particularly attractive woven basket for his mother, and gray purchased a bead belt, which he intended to take to his sister when he went back to new york. "tommy doesn't seem to know very much about him," informed carl when he joined his companions. "says he showed up here about a week ago, and wanted to know if anyone could tell him where he could find the old thunder bird shrine." "did tommy ever see him before?" asked dunk. "no. none of these indians around here ever did. he says he has been down in the mexico mining districts, but claims to be an araviapa apache. that's what my father was, and he looks to be of the same tribe." "looks somethin' like you," remarked fly. "i think so too," chimed in fred. "well, tommy says the old scout has an idea he has done something to offend the great spirit," continued carl, "and, unless he makes some kind of reparation, he won't get into the happy hunting ground with his ancestors." carl smiled at this fallacy which he had long since abandoned. "did he say what he had done?" inquired herb. "no, merely said that a medicine man told him he was on the wrong side of the deity and that he'd better make up. seems that he thinks if he puts the thunder bird back on its shrine again everything will be all right. i think he's got the talk of some missionaries and his own ideas mixed. it isn't like an indian to be making up for bad deeds." "get in line there, you scouts," ordered fred, for his patrol had disorganized during carl's conversation. "remember you have to stick to the rules," added the leader, trying to be severe. the boys fell back at once, and started on two and two, keeping step and order the rest of the way. though shorter than any of the other boys, young windham had the personality of a commander, and, as he marched on ahead, his head erect, and square shoulders set, he gave promise of being an influential leader later on in life. it was about two hours afterward that they reached the outskirts of the bread pudding ranch, tired but by no means fagged. they stopped for a few minutes' rest and adjustment. after a long drink from their canteens, which they had filled with ice water before leaving the fort, they laved their faces and hands. then refreshed but somewhat excited, they started for the ranch-house. it was agreed that jerry should not begin drumming until they had come very near, planning to take a path on the other side of the house which brought them very close without disclosing them until they were within full view of the veranda. as they came up, the drum rolling, they saw hop sing, who was gathering vegetables for dinner, stop, look, and then make for the kitchen as fast as his thin legs would take him. "look at those chop suey drumsticks," laughed fly, as the chink vanished through the doorway. "never recognized us," laughed jerry, giving his sticks an extra twirl, and, consequently, producing more noise. they saw mr. phipps before he sighted them. he had arisen from his seat on the veranda, where he had been enjoying his newspaper before dinner should be announced, and was looking down the road for the source of the commotion. as the boys turned sharply at the east wing of the big house, they were brought into full view. they walked steadily on, as straight as comfort would allow them, keeping step like a squad of trained soldiers, and looking neither to the left nor the right, although several of them could not help smiling. mr. phipps gave them one puzzled glance, then threw up his hands, and bending back his head, laughed long and loud. "you young rascals," he roared. "here i thought the state militia was out after my hide." fred led his small company around in a circle in front of the house, then made several zigzag figures which he had learned for a drill while in cleveland. finally they drew up, abreast, before mr. phipps, and, solemnly saluting, gave three hearty cheers. "fine, fine!" exclaimed the rancher. "my, but you all look brave and ferocious. you might be able to meet a real enemy--with his back toward you. let's see how they fit." the small army marched up onto the veranda, while the rancher gave them a critical survey. "couldn't be better," he finally announced satisfied. "not if you had had them tailor made." "they're certainly great," returned fly, a little awkwardly. then he looked at jerry, and the other boys followed his example.... there was a sudden silence, as they drew in a closer circle around mr. phipps. it had been planned that jerry should make a short speech of thanks to their generous patron. but though he was brave enough when the suggestion was made, now that the time had come the boy felt himself growing shaky and confused. the surprised rancher looked around at the quiet group a little puzzled. finally fly gave jerry a nudge, at which the latter collected himself as well as he could, and with something of a tremble in his voice, which seemed suddenly weak and faint, he began what he had planned to make a very grand speech. "mr. phipps," he said, his cheeks growing rapidly redder and hotter, while his knees shook, "we--we--we all want to thank you very much for--" "oh, forget it," entreated the man, giving the relieved jerry an affectionate pat on the back. "why, you boys have nothing to thank me for. you're just like my own sons--you're herb's playmates. yuh see herb hasn't any mother to--to--but i tell you, i like to have him associated with a fine lot of lads like you. get into the house here, and we'll see if we can pick up some grub." the rough rancher spoke cordially, but there was a slight shake in his voice. "we're always grabbin' fodder over here," apologized fly, as they made for the dining room. "and i guess we're here with our appetites to-day," put in dunk. "that was a fine tramp for a hungry fellow." "well, go to it." "lose any sheep lately?" asked dunk, as the usual hearty meal progressed, or rather disappeared. "they haven't bothered us since sunday night," responded phipps. "about time for something to be doing." "i've got to get back early this afternoon and go to work," said fly, when they arose from the table--"filled to the eyes," to use gray's words. "guess we'd better go back," said jerry. "i've got to go to silver city to-day myself," said mr. phipps. "suppose you all pile in my hack and we'll drive over." this was a welcome suggestion and the boys quickly accepted it. chapter xii the thunder bird attacks thinking that experience was the best teacher, hawke decided to discontinue lessons on aviation until the materials for the biplane arrived and they could begin actual work. during the rest of the week, therefore, the boys, with the assistance of captain crawford, dr. rivers and the aviator, put in their time mastering some of the boy scout requirements. they organized a bucket brigade, and, by several mock fire fights fitted themselves to take care of a blaze should one occur at any time. "that's what we've been needing at this fort for a long time," remarked captain crawford, when he saw the young fire fighters practicing. "in case of a fire here we'd have to depend on the volunteer bunch at silver city, and everything would be up in smoke before they could get here." dr. rivers gave the young scouts a thorough drilling in first aid to the injured. in his laboratory, which was a large and heretofore mysterious room at the top of the house, he taught them many things which they did not know about the human body and its needs in case of accident--how to construct an emergency stretcher, prepare splints, roll and apply bandages, and stop the flow of blood from an artery by means of the tourniquet. "i guess i'm beginning to know something," said jerry, a little proudly, when they left the doctor's office just at dark friday evening after an interesting lesson. "i got real well acquainted with that handsome skeleton," remarked gray, who had been a little sensitive at first about approaching the uncanny bony structure which dr. rivers called one of the "ornaments" of his experimenting room. although herb and tender were urged to remain at the crawford's for supper, the former thought it best to go on home. "i can't be very long away from dad," he explained, "or he has a search party out after me." "i didn't realize how much this boy scout affair was going to do for you," observed the captain that night at the supper table, when jerry and fred had been relating their new accomplishments. "i was a little skeptical at first--thought it was a waste of time--but i'm getting pretty much interested in it now myself." "i think it is a splendid idea," agreed mrs. windham, who, mother-like, was in favor of anything that safeguarded the interest and welfare of her boy. "and his aeroplane stunt strikes me as pretty fine," went on jerry's father. "as a whole, this vacation is doing more for you boys than a year of schooling, and--" he was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone bell. "hello--phipps, yes, this is crawford," they heard him say. "what's that? well, that's strange. oh, i don't think it can be anything serious. the doctor is not at the house? gone to silver city? well, we'll start right out." "what is it?" cried mrs. crawford, as the group at the table arose and surrounded the captain. "phipps says herb's horse came home alone, wounded in the back. he's afraid something has happened to him and graystock. thinks it may be that thing that's killing the sheep--or thieving greasers," explained captain, speaking hurriedly, at the same time putting on his hat and ringing for the maid. "tell ike to get the horses and saddle them at once--three of them," he ordered when the servant appeared. "tell him to stop and get carlito, and have them all here as soon as possible." "come on, boys--phipps says he's just starting. he says he telephoned for dr. rivers but he isn't home. what'll we do in case either of them is badly hurt?" "we fellows ought to put our learning into practice," spoke up fred at once. "yes, we'll take our emergency kits," said jerry. "i doubt if you can do anything," replied the captain, as they left the house. "you haven't had any practical experience yet." "we'll do anything we can for herb," responded jerry warmly. "why not get dunk?" suggested fred. "he was the best of the bunch, his father being a doctor." "all right," agreed the captain, swinging into his saddle, just as carlito dashed up. "what's the matter?" he asked, breathlessly. they told him the situation in a few words. "i'll go right on," he exclaimed, digging his heels into the pony's flanks. on the way over to the rivers' residence, the captain and the boys met dunk and fly mounted on their horses. mr. phipps' telephone message for the doctor had told them the news. "well, if anything's the matter," said the doctor's son, "both of them have their red cross materials with them, if they're able to use them. you go on ahead," he added. "fly and i are going to bring that stretcher we made to-day, and some bandages and stuff. we'll be right along." the two boys wheeled their ponies, and the rest of the party galloped into the darkness after carl. it was an unusually dark night, and very few stars relieved the dense blackness overhead. fortunately, the riders were familiar with their road, or it would have been impossible for them to keep up the pace they did. "carl'll be sure to find them if they're anywheres along here," said fred, breathlessly, when they were obliged to slow up at a particularly rough place. they urged on their horses again, and for a time nothing was heard through the moonless silence of the night but the sound of hurrying hoofs and the croaking of the frogs as they vied with the monotonous singsong of the crickets. occasionally, from somewhere far out on the prairies, a lonesome coyote would wail dismally. after about a half hour of riding, the party on horseback descried through the darkness a glimmering light almost in the center of the road. as they came nearer, jerry blew his whistle. "we're here," came the answer. "that's phipps." the captain breathed a sigh of relief. "he's not badly hurt," carlito was saying as they drew up to where the indian and tender gray were bending over herb, bandaging his arm while the father held the boy's hand. "i'll be all right," faintly assured herb. "don't you--" but his voice trailed off into silence, and the upraised arm grew limp. "here, i brought some ammonia," exclaimed fred, springing forward, and placing a small bottle to herb's nostrils, while gray and carl rubbed his arms and legs vigorously. "i wish we had a stretcher," exclaimed mr. phipps, his voice shaking with anxiety. "dunk and fly are coming along with one," responded the captain. "thank heaven for that," exclaimed the rancher gratefully. "carl snatched some branches off of the trees coming along," he continued "and made some splints on the run." he laid his hand affectionately on the indian's bent shoulders. a few moments later dunk and fly came up, bearing a stretcher between them. riding had been rather difficult with this clumsy load. it was not long before herb was comfortably stretched out on the improvised bed, and, resuscitated by the liberal whiffs of ammonia which fred faithfully applied, and the constant massage, he soon opened his eyes and smiled, as a sign that he had regained consciousness. "it's mostly jolt," said dunk, who began applying more bandages. when the arm was well bound up, he went over herb's body carefully in search of more injuries. finding none, mr. phipps suggested that they start for the ranch. carl, dunk, fly and fred immediately picked up the stretcher. "feeling better, son?" asked the father gently as they started off, the four boys carrying the stretcher, while those on horseback led the ponies. "better all the time," answered herb, trying to speak firmly. while his voice was not normal, it was stronger than when he first spoke. "what happened anyway?" asked fly of tender gray. "all i can say is, it's just about like that time you got mixed up when you met windy at silver city," answered tender. "i didn't know anything was wrong until i heard herb yell, and the next minute he was thrown from his horse, while the critter ran off like wild." "didn't you see anything?" urged fred. "it was too dark--anyhow i didn't look for anything. i got busy with herb," responded gray. "that's right," approved mr. phipps. "but it looks to me as if it was the same devil that's been botherin' my sheep--horse's back is cut pretty deep." when they reached the ranch-house, sing informed them that dr. rivers had telephoned, and was on his way over. they had scarcely put herb on the bed before the doctor arrived. after listening to a hasty explanation, he made a thorough examination of the wounded boy. "well, it's just a minor fracture of the forearm," he announced finally. "nothing serious. i'll have to set it though. "it may hurt you a little," he warned herb, as he removed the bandages and splints, but, though his patient did wince once or twice, he set his lips tightly, and did not emit a sound of complaint. after it was all over, however, he sank back with a sigh of relief and exhaustion. with the aid of a sleeping potion, he was soon quietly resting. mr. phipps, though relieved by the doctor's reassurance, was greatly agitated over the accident, and continually paced the floor in the big library, his face pale and his lips set. "i'll be over early to-morrow," the doctor told him. "it's only a green stick break and will soon knit. the bandaging was splendidly done--i couldn't have put those splints on better myself," he added. "by the way, did you do it?" "the boys did," answered the rancher, with a faint smile, looking affectionately around the anxious group. "you certainly did well," said the doctor heartily. "i had some doubts about instructing you at first, but i must admit you have profited by your lessons wonderfully." as there was nothing more to be done, the party from the fort prepared to start back, the doctor going ahead with his machine. "we've got to get that confounded animal that's causing all this trouble," exclaimed phipps as vigorously as his shaking voice would permit. "we're goin' to get him, all right!" responded jerry heartily. "you bet we are," reiterated fred, with determination, while the other boys made similar assurances. it was a sober party that rode slowly away, and for a long time nothing was said. "it's so quiet to-night it makes me think of spooks," remarked jerry, finally breaking the silence. "something makes me feel queer too," said fred. just then a shrill, weird inhuman shriek came from somewhere in the direction of the mountains: "kreee-kreee-ee," almost blood-curdling in its penetrating sharpness, cutting through the air like a keen knife blade, and sending unpleasant shivers down the backs of all who heard. again and again it came, threatening, foreboding, like some evil spirit about to swoop upon its prey. they listened, spellbound, thrilled in every nerve. it was not fear that seemed to clutch at their hearts and make them pound, or that struck them silent, it was an awing sense of something supernatural, something not quite real. it was as though they had suddenly caught a glimpse of a demon of the underworld. the dread cry continued for some minutes, then gradually grew fainter, until it seemed smothered by the intervening hills. before any of the party gathered courage to speak, a tall figure, like a fleeting shadow, glided across the path in front of them, and rapidly disappeared into the darkness. he seemed bent on an errand and was going toward the northeast mountain ranges. "it's the indian," whispered carl, as the form hurried into the darkness. "what do you suppose that noise was?" queried jerry in a low tone. "was it a hawk?" asked fly cautiously, crowding nearer to carl. "i've heard hawks cry and eagles scream, but never like that," returned the indian, his voice growing louder. "what was it then?" asked fly in a natural voice, gathering courage as the conversation progressed. "i never heard one, of course," replied carl slowly, "but i think that was the thunder bird." "that's just what it was," exclaimed dunk at once. for some moments nobody spoke, then carl said reflectively: "i suppose that indian friend of ours heard it too, and is on the trail." "you'd better look out or he'll get it before you do," commented the captain, who had heard of the mysterious stranger. chapter xiii at work on the aeroplane the following day the first box of material arrived from kansas city, and was taken to mr. giles' machine shop, which, having formerly been the army stables, was a great deal larger than was needed for the machinist's work, and he was able to give hawke and the boys a roomy space at the rear. a box from denver came on monday morning, and in the afternoon there was a consignment from new york. the engine was to be sent by freight from fort omaha, and would take some time to reach silver city, but, as hawke explained, it was the last thing to be used and the delay would not matter. by wednesday morning, therefore, which was the day after the fourth, all was ready to go ahead on the aeroplane. the fourth had been unusually quiet for the boys because herb could not take part in any active festivities. while his injury had been slight, and was now practically healed, his father insisted that he should remain perfectly quiet and not become excited by unwarranted celebration. this was a hardship for so active a boy as herb, but to please his father he obeyed without complaint. as reparation, the rancher ordered a lavish display of fireworks from albuquerque, and in the evening the boys were entertained by an exhibition that was worthy of young princes. the exhilaration which followed this event, their sympathy for herb, the gratitude they felt for the generous rancher, and their eagerness to solve the mystery of the bread pudding ranch, which was heightened by the incidents of the last few weeks, coupled with their growing interest in aviation, gave the boys an enthusiasm for the work of constructing the biplane which guaranteed success. hawke set up his model in the shop for their guidance, and, desiring to start them with fundamentals, he dissected the wing of a hawk, and, the first thing wednesday morning, explained to them the first principles of plane construction, using the formation of the wing as an illustration. "the early planes were straight," he explained, "but we have since learned that the curved surfaces are far more efficient. keep in mind the idea of the bird, the shape of his wings, and you have the best working basis for building a plane." the aviator believed, with some other specialists, that examples taken from nature were the best sort of instruction for the novice. the materials were unpacked, including all necessary tools, and without wasting much time on preliminaries, the boys set heartily to work. "i am planning to equip this machine with swinging wing ends," said hawke. "this is something not used on many biplanes, but it will be necessary to have them if we are to follow the maneuvers of a bird. if the wing tips are made with a down curve at their ends, the result of swinging them to the rear will be to increase the lifting power, while at the same time reducing the resistance of the air to forward movement. this would afford an ideal method of steering, being exactly like that employed by birds." later, when work was begun on these wing tips, the boys fully understood hawke's theory. another innovation which hawke planned for the machine was a mica window in the forward part of the fuselage, which would enable them to see what was passing below them, without leaning over or altering the angle of the planes. while the boys worked and followed directions, hawke explained the parts and their use on the machine. fred and fly proved themselves the most accomplished at first, owing to their previous experience with mechanics and aeroplanes. gray also had a previous knowledge of the possibilities of aeronautics, and it was not long before all of the boys were intelligently working on hawke's model and making progress. mr. phipps rode over from the ranch almost every day to see them at work, and was much pleased with the rapid advance his son was making. entirely recovered from the accident, herb was as useful as any of his companions, and, besides evincing a great deal of mechanical skill, which he had never been called upon to display before, he readily grasped the principles hawke continually ground into his pupils. "you see, dad," herb said, when the rancher had inquired, on the occasion of one of his visits five or six days after work had been begun, about the use of the propeller, the particular part on which herb was working, "the propeller is everything on an aeroplane. it's got to be made just right, or the whole thing goes to smash. if it wasn't for the propeller the machine wouldn't go at all," he finished triumphantly. "oh, indeed," remarked the southerner, an amused twinkle in his eye. "and what's the reason for that?" "well, yuh see," replied herb, seriously, not noticing the smile playing about his father's mouth, and anxious to display his newly acquired knowledge, "it's the thing that moves the machine forward, and it has almost everything to do with the pitch and speed. the surfaces of the aeroplane are called the skin, and there is some friction of air against these surfaces, and that is called skin friction. well, yuh see, the propeller has to make the machine move through the air with the smallest amount of skin friction. it has to travel through as large an amount of air as possible in a certain time, and take as little power as possible. yuh understand?" "oh, yes," exclaimed the rancher, unable to restrain a short laugh. "how about that, hawke?" "he's right," responded the aviator, slapping his young pupil on the back. "he's got the dope exactly." "yes, but a good deal depends on the operator," chipped in fly, who was ambitious to excel as an aviator, and could scarcely wait until the machine was finished to try his hand. "i'm working on the box-girder," said dunk, feeling called upon to give an account of himself. "what's that," asked mr. phipps indulgently. "it's the part that really bears the greatest weight--a sort of a beam with the weight in the center, fixed so it bears the load equally distributed. you can see one on hawke's model." "and one of the important things," said jerry, not to be outdone, "is to build the plane so the guy wires remain taut, and the main spars, ribs and struts are properly placed." "yes, and then we have to remember to build it as light as we can and as strong as we can," put in gray. "we want to go fast, but we don't want accidents, so we can't make it as light as we'd like. oftentimes we have to make a part heavier to be sure it's strong enough." other technical information was glibly imparted when captain crawford dropped in occasionally. dr. rivers also paid the shop frequent visits, while the ladies did not neglect to show an interest in the work. in fact, everyone in and about the fort shared the enthusiasm of the young aviators, and the aeroplane got to be the most important topic of conversation. hawke was obliged to put a sign on the door of the shop: "no admittance," in order to keep away the soldiers, greasers, loafers, and even indians who had a habit of dropping in and interrupting the work. about eight days after construction started they were ready for a hangar. as mr. phipps sent over two of his idle greasers to erect this, work on the aeroplane was not stopped. the shed was erected just north of the machine shop, facing the old parade grounds, which was an ideal spot for the first try-out. "i'm anxious to test my new feature of equalizing the stress and distribution of weight," hawke explained to mr. phipps, who had come over with the greasers. "i want to be able to carry all of the boys, if possible, and this is a difficult feat, for the greater the number of passengers carried the greater is the tax on the stability of the machine. the boys have shown such unusual ability in carrying out my ideas, however, that i think i am going to be able to perfect the device and prove its efficiency in a flight or two." the day the hangar was completed, the engine arrived. a small truck which mr. giles had in the shop was to be used in wheeling the aeroplane out of the shop through the big middle doors of the stable, and into the hangar. "my, ain't she a beautiful bird," exclaimed jerry, when they put away their tools, and were proudly viewing the result of their work, for the aeroplane was set up complete with the exception of the engine, and stood mounted on the small wheeled truck ready for removal. a trial flight was to be made in the morning. "you can't beat that anywhere in the world," said dunk, proudly. "i almost feel as though she were alive," commented herb. "i must say you did a mighty fine job, boys," said hawke, "and if she flies as well as she looks, we'll put in our application for medals." "is there any chance that she won't fly?" asked fly anxiously. "you never know what a brand new plane is going to do," responded hawke, "and you're never sure till you're gliding safely up in the air, whether or not all the cogs are in tight. but i don't think there's much danger that this one won't fly." "we'll steer straight for that old tower," said jerry, "and see if we can't roust out the thunder bird--or devil bird, whatever it is." "better watch for it some dark night near the sheep fold," suggested herb. "it's about due to be around here now. we haven't seen it for some time. but another rancher several miles north of father says he's had some sheep hurt and taken, so i suppose it's shifted its hunting ground for a while." "gee, i'm awful anxious to find out just what it is anyway," exclaimed fred. "certainly is a mysterious animal." "have you seen that old indian snooping around here?" inquired herb, changing the subject. "i saw him a minute or two ago peeping in through the door over there, but i didn't say anything at the time." "oh, i suppose he has some superstitious idea that this is a destroying evil spirit we're building," said carl. "only i wish he would keep away. the way he stands around and peers makes me nervous." "he doesn't seem to pay any attention to the "no admittance" sign," remarked hawke, smiling. "suppose he can't read english," said carl. "but i have a sneaking suspicion that he can understand it. it's an old trick of the indian to stand around and look as innocent as a brick wall, and yet take in everything you say." "we've been talking a lot about the thunder bird lately," observed fly. "maybe that's interested him." "i wouldn't be surprised if he's planning some deviltry," carl remarked as they left the shop. "he's got some exaggerated notion about the thunder bird already." as they entered the parade grounds they saw the retreating form of the strange indian. "i'll bet he's been listening," exclaimed carl, a little disturbed. "there's no tellin' what a half-cracked, superstitious indian may get into his head." chapter xiv the fire "you fellows have certainly made wonderful progress," mr. giles said to fly that evening as he sat on the porch of their residence with his wife and son. "that man hawke is a wonder. i'm as proud as anybody of that fine aeroplane, and mighty proud that my boy helped in building it." "you ain't any prouder than i am," said fly, while his mother stroked his red locks affectionately. "hawke says he thinks i'm going to make a good flier. gee, won't it be great to be up in the air sailing around like a bird!" "i'm a little afraid of accidents," said mrs. giles, who had been somewhat worried about the safety of the venture, but had not wished to dampen her son's enthusiasm. "oh, leave that to hawke," exclaimed fly confidently. "he's going to make the first flight, although i wouldn't be afraid to go with him. besides, we've got to get that sheep stealer. herb's dad has been mighty good to us. we fellows are just crazy to find out what that killing thing is anyway. gee, you ought to hear the way he howled the night herb got hurt!" even now, fly thrilled at the memory of the experience. "hello," he broke in, as dunk appeared some yards from the house. "come on over." "i'm tired," sighed dunk, as he sat down beside fly on the stoop, "but i can't think of going to bed, i'm so excited over that plane." "to-morrow we get it in the hangar," began fly, "then the engine and then, whoopee, up she goes!" fred, jerry and carlito strolled by at that moment, and, when they had joined the pair on the porch, made the same complaint as dunk. "i'm a little cut up over that old indian, too," pondered carl. "i wouldn't be afraid to meet him single-handed, but when a redskin gets to plotting things behind his paint, watch out!" "oh, don't worry about that," protested dunk, who did not understand as well as carl the malicious nature of a semi-wild indian. "he's just a little bit cracked, that's all." "sure," corroborated jerry. "the bunch of us wouldn't do a thing to him if he got actin' funny." carl had apparently dismissed the subject, however, for he was throwing his knife with a dexterity that only an indian could have displayed. his action invited competition, and soon there was a lively contest in progress. mr. and mrs. giles withdrew and left the boys to their game. "say, what's that?" exclaimed dunk suddenly, in a voice of alarm. "smoke," yelled jerry, jumping to his feet. "fire in the machine shop!" fairly screamed carl as he started off on a run. "the aeroplane!" gasped fly. "get your buckets, quick!" ordered fred, the coolest one of the bunch. the boys ran to the side of the old barracks, just south of the machine shop, where the buckets were kept, yelling "fire! fire!" at the same time. as they turned the corner of the barracks sharply they unexpectedly bumped into the mysterious red man, who was crouching and feeling his way along the wall. they were too excited to attach any importance to the occurrence at the moment, and the indian was soon making swiftly for the open prairies to the west. aroused by the commotion, people were now running from all directions, and in an incredibly short time there was a good-sized crowd at the scene of the fire. carl had gone immediately to the shop. "get a hose," he shouted to some idly gaping greasers and soldiers who stood looking at the smoke which poured from the cracks of the doors and windows. "bring some buckets," he ordered to another group. carl made for the double doors, where a soldier was struggling to throw them apart. "here, keep those shut," he commanded. "do you want to eat the place up with drafts?" "we must keep it away from the plane," gasped hawke, who had arrived a second before. the small brigade had formed a double chain from the well to the machine shop. one line passed the filled buckets and the other returned them empty. soldiers and greasers were put to work. "it's in the front," fred announced. immediately carl smashed in a front pane with his fist, for the window was locked on the inside. "shove that hose in here," said fred, as the soldier came up with a small garden hose which gave forth a shallow spray of water. carl smashed in the companion window, and started to get inside. "here, hold on, carl," protested hawke. "that won't do." but carl shook him off and sprang through. "hand some buckets to me," he said. fly, standing at the well, filled the buckets, passing them on down the line until they reached carl, who threw them on the flames and then handed them back. hawke leaned through the window and tied a wet handkerchief over carl's mouth and nose. it had now grown quite dark, and there was little evidence of the fire from the outside of the building, except for the smoke which poured through the windows and cracks of the doors. after a few minutes carl sprang out of the window. "it's eating its way toward the center," he announced hurriedly, snatching the handkerchief from his face. "we'll have to take a chance on getting the plane out. keep fighting though." fred took up his position outside and they fought the fire as best they could through the open windows. hawke, jerry and carl went to the side double doors. captain crawford and mr. giles arrived at this time, and took turns relieving the boys, whose arms were aching from swinging the heavy buckets. while the structure was of substantial brick, and the equipment of the machine shop consisted mostly of iron and metal and little combustible material, a large amount of debris had been piled in one corner of the shop, awaiting removal, and this burned quickly, giving the fire a good start. the one thought in the minds of the boys was to keep the flames from getting back to the aeroplane. hawke, carl and jerry had decided to open the double doors and go inside the burning building. as the others were at the front fighting the fire, there was no one to protest, except some of the frightened greasers who insisted that "you fellows'll get killed." "close those doors as soon as we get in," said carl in answer to their protests. "and the minute we give the signal open them again." "don't lose any time opening them, either," warned hawke. "we'll all be needing air by that time." "jump in as quick as you can, jerry," said carl, as they slid the door back just enough to make an entrance. once inside, all three dropped on their hands and knees, first tying about the lower parts of their faces handkerchiefs which they had dampened. they crept, wriggled and crawled in the direction of the machine. the air was stifling, and it was with the greatest difficulty that they could breathe, but, groping in the smoke and darkness, carl finally got his hands on the truck. jerry and hawke were quick to give him assistance, though none of them could do much more than fumble, handicapped as they were by the smoke and heat and their awkward position. the truck was a frail affair, and it would have been slow work at best. under present conditions, the peril of upsetting the plane and of damaging if not losing it in the fire trap, demanded double caution. speech was impossible, but the three rescuers were practically of one mind, all realizing the importance of the hazardous mission they had undertaken, as inch by inch, they cautiously moved the plane nearer to the closed door. hawke slowly pushed from the rear, while carl and jerry crawled on each side, steadying the machine with upraised arms. their position was awkward and uncomfortable. after a few minutes it grew actually painful, their arms and bodies aching from the strain, and they felt themselves gradually growing weaker. the fire had now about reached the center of the shop, and they could hear the shouts of the boys and others, ignorant of their plight, outside. jerry could hear his father's voice raised in command, now and then, but, though he was gaining ground, the voices outside seemed growing fainter and fainter. "doctor rivers has gone to silver city with his machine to bring down the fire department," said captain crawford, his shirt soiled and wet and his face grimy with smoke. the bucket brigade had kept up a continuous fight, and had done admirably in keeping the blaze in check. the fire had had such a start, however, that it seemed almost impossible to save the building. they were all, therefore, very much relieved to learn of dr. rivers' action and that help might soon be forthcoming. "maybe we can keep it under way until that time," said fred, swinging a bucket in his aching arms. two reels of hose had been found about the fort, and these were being used by dunk and captain crawford. three or four lanterns had been lit, but their pale light was scarcely needed, for the moon shone down full and bright, and this, aided by the light of the fire, which had eaten through the front of the building, made the fort as bright as day. "where's carl?" suddenly asked dunk. "jerry isn't here either," exclaimed captain crawford, hastily inspecting the line of boys. at that moment a soldier rushed up to the captain. "three of your fellows went into the shop quite a while ago," he shouted above the din. "they told us not to open the doors until they gave the signal. said they were going to get the aeroplane out. seems they've been there a long time." the captain paled and dropped his hose, starting after the soldier on a run. after disposing of their buckets, which they put into the hands of two watching greasers, dunk and fred started after them. a loud toot was heard just then, and dr. rivers came dashing up, his machine loaded with men from silver city, the hose cart being attached to the back of the automobile. the new firemen started to work at once, a great relief to the tired boys and men of the fort. a second after, herb and his father galloped into the parade grounds. "throw open those doors," gasped the captain, when the party reached the rear of the building. fred and dunk readily complied. the air poured into the interior, driving the smoke back and a sheet of eager flames mounted to the ceiling. within a foot of the door, however, was the aeroplane. as fred rushed into the building he stumbled over the prostrate body of carl, who had managed to crawl as far as the door to give the signal but had lost consciousness at the last moment. he was quickly dragged out into the open air, while the captain, herb, dunk and fly, throwing themselves down on all fours, crept after the other two. they located them not far from carl, by the side of the machine, and all three were soon receiving careful attention from dr. rivers. jerry and hawke were soon revived, and taken to the crawford residence where they were put under the care of mrs. crawford and mrs. windham. carl's condition gave some alarm. all efforts of the doctor to bring him to consciousness seemed fruitless. there was a great bump over his left temple, showing that he had hurt himself in falling, and the blow had partly stunned him. at last, however, to the great relief of everybody, he opened his eyes. at first he looked bewildered at the anxious faces above him. then catching sight of a bucket which fly held in his hand, he seemed to realize the state of affairs at once. suddenly, without warning, he jumped to his feet. "i must get the money out of my room," he cried, lurching forward, but fell back again limp. the boys looked from one to the other. for the first time since the fire began they remembered that carl's room was over the shop, and by this time, was completely ruined. chapter xv repairing the plane there was no time to be lost. dr. rivers and mr. giles carried carl to the latter's home, where he lay in a semi-conscious condition the rest of the night, talking incoherently about going to college, saving his money, being robbed of it, and calling now and again for the old squaw who had given him his charm and had told him the story of his father's death. at intervals he would break out with fierce denunciations against the mysterious redskin. meanwhile, satisfied that their brave friends had been taken care of, fred and dunk ran back to the shop, which was now enveloped in smoke, flames shooting out of the upper story. as they reached the opening, near which the plane stood, several threatening creaks warned them of the danger of entering. "that roof's going to fall," exclaimed one of the soldiers. "hey, are you crazy!" shouted another. "don't go in there!" but before they could be detained the two boys darted into the smoke. they were just in time to escape the restraining hand of the captain and mr. phipps, who were running a few yards behind. there was a moment of terrible suspense, then a crash, and the plane pitched forward into the parade grounds. the captain and the ranchman, in a tremor of apprehension, started into the smoke, but a soldier's voice arrested them. "they're under the machine," he shouted. quickly tipping the plane back into position, the men found the boys, who had been pinioned under it. their clothing was torn, and covered with mud, but the boys, fortunately, were unhurt. "is it safe?" gasped fred, jumping to his feet. "is it all right?" was fly's first question. but there was no time to inspect the machine carefully for damage. it must be hauled into the hangar as soon as possible. the draft-fed flames were shooting hungry, livid red tongues skyward, and the almost deafening noise of falling bricks and timber too well foretold the fate of the building. "here, everybody lend a hand," said herb, perspiring from the intense heat of the fire. "pick the machine up on your shoulders," mr. phipps ordered several of the idlers. "and get away from this building quick, before the side wall falls," commanded the captain. this note of warning served to send all the onlookers scurrying to a safe distance. soon the precious aeroplane was safe in the new shed. "suppose there's two weeks' repairs on it," lamented fly. "never saw such luck," complained herb, but added quickly, "we ought to be glad, though, that nobody got hurt." they turned from their task of lodging the machine, just in time to see the walls and roof of the shop cave in completely. a choking mass of thick smoke rolled out of the debris. the blaze was soon extinguished, but the building was a complete ruin. "now, how do you suppose that fire started?" asked dunk, when, an hour later, and long past midnight, the tired boys started for their homes. all was quiet at the fort now; everybody had gone to seek their long deferred rest, except dr. rivers, who had taken the fire fighters back to silver city. before the rising sun had gilded the mountain tops, dunk and fly, tired but too restless to sleep, were again at the feebly smoking ruins. they were soon joined by herb phipps, his father and tender gray, who had remained at the fort overnight. "too bad about carl," reflected fly. "he was saving that money so long too," continued gray. "wish't i'd thought of it," said dunk; "i'd risked my neck to get it." "just shows what carl is," added herb. "he went in after that plane and never thought about his own stuff." "i'll make him let me put up for it," put in mr. phipps. "the boy deserves it for his bravery." "how is he this morning, dunk?" asked gray. "he's all right now. i left him eating his breakfast in bed. he wanted to get up, but father says he might as well take it easy for a half a day or so until he gets stronger." "hello, fellows," greeted jerry heartily. "what do you think of the heroes?" the aviator, paler, but smiling as ever, accompanied young crawford, and they both jokingly demanded the reward of the brave. "you deserve it too, and no kiddin'," observed herb seriously. "well, let's take a look at the plane," said hawke. "wonder how much damage there is." "right upper wing pretty badly jammed on the left side," he said, after he had given the plane an inspection. "these wires will have to be restrung. oh, i guess we can fix her up in a couple of days." "that's lucky," said fly. "thought we'd have to take her all apart." "lucky thing ike didn't bring that engine over to the shop," commented dunk. "we never would have gotten that out." "pretty good luck all around," responded hawke, optimistically. "so cheer up, and let's get busy right away this afternoon repairing the _thunder bird_. if we're goin' to chase thieves we've got to get at it soon." in the afternoon, carl, whose active spirit chafed under the restraint put upon him by dr. rivers, broke bonds and escaped from the sickroom. the boys were industriously working on the plane when he appeared, a little haggard and hollow-eyed, at the hangar. "hello there, old scout," exclaimed herb heartily. "glad you're out." "was she much smashed up?" asked the indian, smiling rather forcedly. "not much, we can mend her up in a couple of days," responded hawke. "too bad we went under before we got her clear out," continued carl, "but i'm glad it isn't damaged worse than it is." "guess i'll take a walk over to the cliffs," added the indian, reflectively. "there's enough of you working on this." "the cliffs?" echoed fred interrogatively. "yes, i'm going to see if i can scare up that confounded indian," responded carl, shutting his lips rather tightly, a light in his eyes which the boys had never seen there before. "the strange indian?" repeated jerry uncomprehending. "sure thing. he's the fellow that's done all this," said carl. "and he's going to meet me on the warpath for it too." "better not get mixed up with him, carl," advised hawke, seeing that the boy was rather excited and fearing that his savage nature might assert itself. "wait till he turns up here and we'll all get after him." carl did not reply, but, turning, walked away in the direction of the mountain trail. "maybe it was the old scout," reflected dunk. "you know what carl said the very afternoon of the fire." "and we bumped into him snooping back of the barracks right after the fire started," continued fly. "he's after the thunder bird, too," went on gray. "say, i'll bet he did it, all right." "dad went in to see carl this morning," said herb; "wanted him to let him make up the money he had lost, but carl wouldn't hear to it. maybe he'll come 'round in a day or two, when he has time to think it over." "say, fellows, did you see in the paper that chance, the big new york aviator is going to fly over this way in a week or so?" asked hawke, changing the conversation. "no--haven't looked at a paper to-day," responded fly. none of the other boys had heard the news. "my, that'll be great," exclaimed jerry. "what's he coming this way for?" "we're on the route. you know, he's in the contest for the $ , longest distance record," answered hawke. "is he the guy that won the highest altitude prize," asked dunk. "that's the one. he's gone into teaching lately in new york city, and charges $ for four hours." "whew! i'll take a minute and one-eighth," laughed gray. "do you know him?" asked fred. "yes, met him once in new york. fine chap. nerves like cast iron," answered hawke. "gee, can't you write and ask him to stop here," asked fly. "he's going to make a stop at albuquerque, according to the newspaper account, so i don't suppose he'll drop off here." "wouldn't it be sport to meet him with our plane!" exclaimed fly. "maybe we can," said hawke. "we might run him a race for a mile or so." "jiminy, that'd be great," cried jerry, almost dropping his hammer. "hope i can fly by then," commented fred. "me too," eagerly exclaimed fly. "wonder if i'll ever be tryin' for a record," he added wistfully. "can't tell," laughed hawke. that evening when carl returned he reported that he had been unable to find the indian, and that he had not been seen around the cliff dwellings for several days. "tommy says the last time he saw him he told him he was going up into the mountains to look for the thunder bird," said carl. "that's the bee in his bonnet, all right." "so long as he don't come 'round here making bonfires out of our _thunder bird_, we'll leave him alone," commented jerry. though carl visited the cliffs every day after that, the indian either religiously avoided him or had previously disappeared. three days later the aeroplane was again in first-class condition, and monday, the first week in august, was set for the try-out day. the news was noised abroad, and people for miles around were planning to be present at the event. great excitement prevailed at the fort, where the boys and their handiwork became the center of interest. chapter xvi the first flight a group of curious spectators stood around the _thunder bird_ open-mouthed and wide of eye. "you tell me that thing go up--up high? no!" expostulated one of the mexicans with a gesture of skepticism. "da boys make him fly," said another, grinning, and showing an even row of milk-white teeth. "na, not da leetle boys?" protested a third, mopping his perspiring swarthy skin with a red bandanna handkerchief, for the day was a warm one and the sun had almost reached the middle of its daily course. "funniest lookin' thing i ever seed," put in a lame soldier, hobbling around the machine and scrutinizing it doubtfully. he had, like a number of his comrades, spent the last decade or so in and around the fort, hearing little of the outside world. "who's goin' to shoot it up?" asked a sheep herder, with some notion of a sky rocket. he had begged the day off in order to be present at the first flight. "da leetle kids," replied a fat, indolent-looking greaser, spitting a generous supply of tobacco juice. "i na believe it," he added, with a foolish grin which was intended to betoken shrewd disbelief. "that so," laughed the soldier. "what you think, john?" he asked another. "no sabe," responded the mexican, spreading out his palms. "spak no angloise." he turned his attention to the machine which he had been inspecting with childlike interest. "i'd give a dollar for a cool breeze," sighed a soldier, skimming off the moisture that had gathered on his face and neck. grouped about hawke were the aspiring young aviators--the fort bayard bunch and the two from the bread pudding ranch. their bright faces were rosy with excitement, and hawke's was flushed with eagerness. "suppose it shouldn't work," whispered fly, breathlessly, afraid to sound aloud the unconfessed fear which he did not share alone. "forget that noise," reproved jerry. "just leave it to hawke. he says she's going to." "dry up, old man," chided dunk. "didn't we make it--then it's all right." "you bet it's goin' to work," confidently assured herb, unwilling to allow himself a moment's doubt. perhaps hawke himself was a little anxious, for his habitual cool demeanor had given place to a rather apparent agitation. he continually plowed his hands through his damp hair as he went about giving the machine a final examination. "is she all right?" inquired dunk, when the aviator, seemingly satisfied, straightened up and discontinued his examination. "as slick as a whistle," returned hawke cheerily, springing lightly into the plane. a touch of his hand and the motor was buzzing impatiently. "fine day for a try-out," he observed. "not a breath of wind stirring." fred and dunk were instructed to hold the tail at the start, and jerry was to turn the screw that set the machine in motion. "i'm ready now, any time," said hawke, with perfect composure. "clear away, everybody," commanded captain crawford, but it took both him and mr. phipps to force the crowd back against the buildings surrounding the parade grounds. "when i fire, up she goes," laughed herb, rather nervously, gripping the revolver which he held in his hand. he almost hesitated to fire the shot that should decide the fate of their earnest labors. hawke, however, had regained his natural calm, and sat waiting, composed and confident. "let 'er go," he commanded, taking hold of the lever with a sure and steady hand. "one, two, three--bang!" a puff of smoke--then the whirr of the propellers, creating a sudden wind which blew hats off and left the bystanders breathless--and the man-made bird was running swiftly over the smooth parade grounds like a low-flying bird. there was a murmur among the crowd, a straining of necks and eyes, and an unconscious leaning forward. then, as the aeroplane, with an almost imperceptible slant, challenged the air and gradually ascended, a shout of spontaneous admiration arose, gaining in volume and reaching such a thunderous climax that it seemed to call forth an echo from the distant mountains. again and again the skillfully guided plane swept gracefully over the group of buildings, its circle constantly widening as it rose, and, finally, shot above the tall flag pole. on and up it went, swift as a hawk, gracefully taking higher and higher altitudes, until the crowd, realizing the height attained, began to gasp almost with fear, their heads strained back painfully, their hands shading their eyes. at last the plane, with rhythmic undulations, began to descend, its purring music growing louder as, accomplishing slow circles, it came nearer and nearer, until, amidst a hush that was almost deathlike, it skimmed the ground and lit, a few feet from the starting point. again there was a mighty yell, and hats went up as hawke leaped joyously upon the firm ground. faces alight, the boys pressed around him, almost speechless with delight. the first joy of real success was upon them all. they had attempted a splendid task, and they had won! the crowd, refusing to be held back longer, streamed to the center of the grounds, like water surging over a suddenly opened dam. "marvelous," exclaimed mr. phipps, the first to find his voice. this single word opened the flood gates, and a babble of voices ensued. the boys shouted excitedly, pranced like long-imprisoned colts enjoying their first freedom, hugged one another, and threw up their hats and handkerchiefs. soldiers talked excitedly and endeavored to edge nearer to the structure which fascinated and compelled their admiration. in spite of its performance, they still looked upon it in skeptical wonder. the greasers, with unfeigned admiration, rubbed their dark palms caressingly over the cloth-covered wings. several indians, their blank faces for once expressive, stood fearfully on the outskirts of the crowd, and finally slunk away, breaking into a dogtrot as they took the trail to the cliffs. but it mattered not to the boys what the crowd might think or say--they were elated beyond the influence of the opinions of others. they suddenly felt themselves grown to manhood--for they had done what men were doing--and, without exception, they felt inspired with a dauntless determination to master the thing which they had made, and learn to control it as hawke had done. "take us up! take us up!" they cried at once, pressing around the aviator, who, though nearly exhausted from the strain under which he had been laboring, and choking for air, in this tight circle of humanity, was smiling happily. he too felt the intoxicating joy of triumph surge through his whole being, and forgot all external conditions. "you must rest," protested mr. phipps. "yes, come right over to the house. we'll have something cool to drink, and a light lunch," seconded the captain. "guess we'd better not try any more for to-day," said hawke to the boys. "just before i landed, one of the guy wires snapped." "put her in the hangar then," suggested herb, willing to sacrifice his desire to the comfort of the aviator. "sure, you've done enough to-day," put in fly, not wishing to be selfish, although he would have given a good deal to take a turn in the machine beside hawke. with the aid of the bystanders the plane was put back into the shed. ike was left to watch it until the crowd should disperse. "we'll have another demonstration soon," said hawke, noticing the disappointment depicted on the faces of the onlookers as they divined the intention to discontinue flying for that day. "the plane has succeeded almost beyond my hopes," hawke said, as after luncheon he sat with the men and boys at the crawford residence. "my equalizing device has to be tested, but i'm sure it's going to be entirely adequate to carry at least six passengers at a time." "well, you see you have a band of crack workmen," laughed mr. crawford, taking the boys in with a gesture. "that can be said with all seriousness," replied hawke earnestly. the week was spent in trying out the machine, hawke and the boys making several test flights each day. at the end of that time, they knew beyond a doubt that they could trust the _thunder bird_ to do anything they wished. hawke and five of the boys had ridden in it with safety for four hours, putting it to the most severe test. with unfailing patience and ready good will, hawke took them, by ones, and twos, and often filling the machine to its capacity, explaining to them the principles of successful flight. it was impossible, however, in this short time, for all of the boys to become masters of the machine. fly, however, showed unusual proficiency, and by saturday night was enthusiastically begging to be allowed to take the machine up alone, a request which was of course persistently refused by his anxious father and mother. "i'm astonished, though, at the ability the boy shows," hawke told mr. giles confidentially. "they're all first class, but fly has the inborn instincts of a successful bird-man. he takes hold instantaneously, thinking, as it were, with his muscles, and handling his levers automatically, with the precision of an expert. all the boys have steady nerves and are going to acquire the poise and control of good fliers, but your son has unusual intuition." "but you wouldn't let him go up alone yet?" said mr. giles, skeptically, though he might have altered his refusal at this assurance from hawke if mrs. giles had not protested anxiously. "well, no. better wait until after the hunt. that'll give them a good working basis," advised hawke. "oh, please, please, please," pleaded fly, whose anxiety to sail once, only just once, alone and unaided, up into the inviting blue clouds, and feel that he had at last achieved his great ambition, prompted him to repeated entreaty that the privilege might be granted him. "time enough, my son," said mr. giles indulgently. but the time came sooner than any of them dreamed. chapter xvii in sight of the enemy the following monday morning, herb telephoned that the marauder had again appeared at the phipps ranch, and had killed off three of the fold, carrying one away. it was decided, therefore, to proceed at once with the hunt, and, when the capture of the thief had been accomplished, to continue the instruction of the boys. "dad thinks the best way to begin is to watch around the fold at night till the thing appears," said herb. his suggestion was adopted, and that night the fort bayard boys and hawke flew at dusk to the bread pudding ranch. it was not their first trip to the b. p. in the new plane; in fact, it had become quite a matter of course to drop in on mr. phipps, and, as the latter expressed it, "tie the bird outside." the full moon had waned and should a chase be necessary they would be obliged to rely entirely on the acetylene lamps which, however, had been well tried out. they were not to be lit, however, until needed, lest the light should frighten away the enemy. hawke, herb, gray, fred, fly and jerry remained near the plane, which was stationed just inside the wire fence enclosing the sheepfold. carl and dunk went to the other side of the pasture, while mr. phipps and one of his herders took up their position near the entrance gate. between them all, they hoped to get a glimpse of the unwelcome visitor. if hawke or his companions sighted him first they were to give instant chase in the plane, if they could not shoot him, which would be practically impossible in the dark. the others agreed to wave their lanterns if they were the first to come in contact with the mysterious sheep stealer. the plane would then be put into use. quietly but anxiously the pursuers watched, until, about nine o'clock, jerry began to despair. "bet now we're ready for him the old guy won't turn up," he said, disappointedly. "don't worry," assured herb. "like as not he won't come 'round till midnight. that's his usual calling time." "regular new york swell," commented gray. "wonder what kind of a thing it is," said fred. "i'm beginnin' to think it's a witch--never comes around in daylight, and nobody ever can get a peep at him," responded jerry. "we'll soon find out," returned herb. "least, i hope so." "how near's chance now?" suddenly interrogated fred. "he's within a couple day's run of us," responded hawke. "ought to pass over here tuesday or wednesday." "gee, bet it'll take a fall out of him to see another plane bobbin 'round here, won't it?" said herb. "we'll surprise him, all right," laughed hawke. "he'll lose his bearings when he sees us put in our appearance. i'll find out the time he's comin' and run him a race." "he's clippin' off a good record," commented fred, who had been reading the papers. "goin' to make it, i guess." talking thus the hours sped by until it was after eleven o'clock. the night descended thicker and blacker as time passed, and in the tense silence, broken now and then by a tuneful bleat, the boys huddled closer together and talked in hushed voices. "we sure could hear the flutter of a wing," reflected herb. the next moment they were on their feet, scarcely suppressing a yell. something had rushed directly over them, fanning the air like a propeller, but with less noise. quick as thought they were in the plane, the lamps were flashed on and they had mounted into the air. a huge flying bulk was just in front of them, and, as it swooped downward toward the sheep, a shout from fred apparently startled it, for it rose again, and, whirling, circled rapidly above the fold. "it's some kind of a flying monster all right," whispered herb excitedly. hawke had made a rapid semicircle and was flying swiftly in pursuit, but, as he had lost time in turning, the object had become a part of the darkness and he could only steer in the direction in which it had seemed to be flying. "carl's waving his lantern," exclaimed herb. "must be over there." hawke veered quickly. the lamps, while shedding a bright glow for some distance around the machine, did not throw their light very far ahead. "there is it, under us," cried fly. they could see a huge, black, floating mass, just beneath them. circling again and again it was with the utmost difficulty that they kept it in sight. at last, however, it struck a straight line for the cliffs. "we can't get an aim if he keeps on swerving," said herb. "steady, fellows," warned hawke, for they had moved about, twisting in their seats, to get a sight of the game. the plane was mounting steadily higher, and hawke had reduced his speed, pursuing the enemy as well as he could, for it had adopted a zigzag course, flying to right and left and dipping up and down. "i'm going to try a shot anyway," said herb. the others unconsciously left the shooting to the southerner, who, it was naturally and rightly supposed, would be glad to bag the animal that had given his father so much trouble. young phipps took aim at the first good opportunity, and shot three times. it seemed to be without result, for the huge shape moved on, though its course became more uncertain than ever, and, although it seemed heading toward the mountain ranges, its flight was uneven and hap-hazard. "we must be over the mountains now," said fly, after a time. "we're about , feet above level," responded hawke. at that moment the bird resumed its swift circles, flying downward. pointing the nose of the plane toward the earth, hawke followed it, making a thrilling spiral descent. "why, there's the old tower," cried fred, when the plane had dropped far enough for its lights to play upon the surface below. "and he's circling down for it," cried fly. "that's his roost, i'll bet," exclaimed jerry. "then it must be the thunder bird carl told about--the one you saw when i tried to take that picture--the one that raised the storm," jabbered fred disjointedly. "and the one the old indian is after," put in gray. "let him roost, and then we'll get him," suggested herb. but hawke had altered his course, and was making swiftly in the direction of home. "where you going?" shouted fly in surprise. it had been necessary for them to raise their voices considerably, for the mountain torrents were distinctly heard below, while the noise of their own machine added made hearing difficult. "we've got to get right back," responded the aviator, throwing on top speed. "what--what for?" yelled gray. "we nearly had him." "there's a wind rising, and i felt a splash of rain," returned the aviator. "we can't take chances over these peaks in a storm." as if to corroborate his statement there was a distant rumble. "thunder," gasped jerry breathlessly, for the speed of the machine almost shut off his wind, and like the other boys he was clinging tightly to his seat. "i felt rain then, too," shouted herb. another rumble, louder than the first, sent thrills down their backs. "it was the thunder bird all right," yelled fred. "i told you i saw him that day." "we know where he lives now, though," returned fly. but they were dashing through space at such a terrific pace that speech became impossible. hawke was bending every energy to beat the storm. already the wind had risen considerably, and he was obliged to concentrate his whole thought on the control of the machine. "make for the b. p.," requested herb. "dad'll be anxious to know how we come out. we can--" but the rest of his sentence was lost in a deafening roar, while a flash of lightning split the darkness and revealed, below them, the stretches of pasture belonging to the bread pudding ranch. while they had been obliged to give up when victory was within easy reach, the boys were more pleased than otherwise at the adventurous turn things had taken. the flight by night, so eagerly anticipated, was becoming more exciting than they had expected. before they realized it, they had skidded down and stopped in front of the ranch-house. but they could only pause long enough to allow herb and gray to dismount, for it was necessary to reach the fort as quickly as possible and lodge the plane in its shed before the storm, whose threatening voice was growing constantly louder, broke upon them. the boys had no chance to exchange words with the rancher before, carl and dunk having taken the place of herb and gray, they were whisked upward again. and, though anxious to learn the result of their companion's flight, the indian and his friend were obliged to wait until, just in time, they had shoved the plane back into the hangar and rushed to the crawford residence. they had scarcely reached the veranda when the fury of the tempest was upon them. "whew!" ejaculated hawke, breathing a deep sigh of relief. "that was a record run. if i had made that at an aviation meet i'll bet they'd have awarded me some kind of a medal." he spoke lightly, and the boys never knew how wonderfully well he had made that flight. not one aviator in a hundred would have been able to accomplish it with such coolness and accuracy as hawke had displayed. perhaps, after they had themselves learned to fly, they realized the precarious condition in which they had been that night and how much they owed their safe return to hawke. they were greeted cordially by the captain when they arrived at the fort, who listened, with unfeigned interest, to their rapid recital of the evening's events. "but we're goin' back to-morrow," said fly, "and get him. for we know where he roosts." "yes," said hawke. "we must lose no time. we have the drop on him now, and i'll run you all up there in the morning. you can let herb and gray know." "telegram for mr. hawke," announced ike, appearing, dripping but smiling, at the screen door. "well, what do you think of that!" exclaimed the aviator, his face suddenly growing grave as he read the wire, and handed it to the captain, who was quickly surrounded by the boys. "'mexican insurrectos threaten invasion of texas,'" read jerry's father. "'come immediately. take charge aviation corps. urgent.'" the message was dated from juarez, and was signed by general marley, commander of the border troops. chapter xviii success at last the next day was a blue one for the boys. apparently all their plans had been knocked sideways. the hunt, for which they had worked and waited all summer, had been nipped in the bud at the moment of success. "let's scout it, anyhow," suggested fred that evening, as the downcast group huddled together on jerry's veranda. "what d'ye mean?" asked dunk, uninterestedly. "well, make a trip up into the mountains and see what we can do," continued the easterner. "how you going to get across that ravine?" disparaged fly, who had been moping all day. "it's too wide even to throw a rope across." "i could get across if you could span it with a rope ladder," said carl. "maybe herb wounded him so badly he's dead up there somewhere," jerry went on. "you know he told us over the phone that he and gray found some feathers about where he shot the other night." "whether it's a bird or not, it's got wings," said carl. "but if those feathers are as long as herb said they were it can't be an eagle." "don't care nohow," responded fly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets with an air of dejection as he rose to his feet. "hawke maybe can't be back this summer. didn't even have a chance to say good-bye to the b. p. bunch. and mother just won't let me run the plane alone. aw, i'm going home," he continued thoroughly disgusted. "good night." "wait a minute--here comes your father," said fred. "just got a letter from hawke," announced mr. giles, walking up to the veranda. "what does he say?" exclaimed fred eagerly, the faces of all the boys brightening at once. a faint hope of the aviator's early return sprang into their minds. "don't get too excited if i tell you," said mr. giles mischievously. this only served to make the boys more anxious, of course. "well, he says he thinks fly's pretty steady and could handle the machine all right alone. so we've decided to let you continue the hunt. we owe it to phipps anyhow," he added. "what!" yelled fly, scarcely comprehending the good news at first. "hurray!" shouted several of the boys. "keep cool," laughed mr. crawford, but fly was unable to contain himself for joy, and singing gayly, began hopping around first on one leg and then the other. "i knew it would come out all right," said dunk, although his attitude of a half hour before had not betokened very strong optimism. "we'll go right over to the phipps ranch in the morning," announced fly, when he became calmer, "tell herb and gray, and start right out. maybe herb can go up with me," and he turned another handspring. "i'd like to see a trial flight first," said the father. "just give me the chance," retorted fly. the next morning, before a skeptical audience composed of mr. and mrs. giles, captain crawford and his wife, mrs. windham and lieutenant rivers, fly practically repeated hawke's performance of the first day. "my, it's great!" he exclaimed after the flight, his eyes shining and his face flushed. "i could do it with hawke, and i knew i could do it alone." the older ones were satisfied, and fly was permitted to start out for the b. p. to get herb, if his father would allow him to go. it was planned that the others should ride, and going as far as they could with their horses, climb up to the spot near the tower. mr. phipps was at first reluctant, but a telephone conversation with mr. giles and captain crawford, strengthened by eager coaxing on the part of his son, finally gained his consent. gray started off to meet the other boys with his pony. fly and herb remained at the b. p., for a while, to give the plane a thorough inspection, and to make a rope ladder they had previously planned to use if possible. about midway in their way they experienced some difficulty with the engine, and were obliged to make a landing in a pasture and remedy the difficulty. this took the better part of an hour. "i feel that we're goin' to get him to-day," said herb, as fly once more lifted the plane above the green meadowland. it was one of those rare, quiet, contented summer days, when even the bee's buzzing sounded noisy. the mountains, with all their towering majesty, seemed challenging the young aviators, who, calm and confident, rose steadily upward and forward, the fresh air blowing cool and sweet against their faces. it was a day such as fills the veins with a joyousness of life, a willingness to undertake anything, and a confidence that bespeaks success. they were soon passing swiftly over the rugged mountain's face, its huge irregular boulders, tufted here and there with stubborn plant life, rapidly receding. the tall majestic firs, which, as the boys looked down from their superior height, dwindled to miniature christmas trees with the morning dew still upon them glistening like toy candles, and the foaming torrents rushing down the time-scarred and waterworn ravines. above all they could see, as they mounted higher, the gloomy old tower lifting its dark head to the sunshine, and rising out of a mass of rock, stone and dense growth. "look! look!" panted herb when they at last circled above the mysterious dwelling. fly looked down through the mica window at his feet and saw, crouching between the four walls of the roof, a monstrous feathered shape, apparently headless, its wings folded. like some gorged dragon it lay there, contentedly wallowing in a bed of bones, skeletons, sheeps' wool and meat still red, the remains of many an ill-gotten feast. startled by the noise of the propellers, it drew out from under its wing its great shining black head, disclosing a vicious hooked beak. meanwhile, the rest of the party had arrived on the other side of the ravine. they shouted at the boys in the air, but the tremendous noise caused by the roaring water and the whirring propellers, drowned their voices completely. herb and fly had seen them, however. "scare him out," suggested fly. "then they can all see him and have a shot." "i hate to shoot an enemy in the back," said herb. "but he deserves it." and he fired down into the roost. but the plane was going at such a speed that his aim was not true. the bullet struck the side of the structure, throwing up dust and mortar. the creature fluttered and stirred, moving its head about perplexedly, but remained in its nest. herb shot a second time, just grazing his mark, picking off some of the feathers on the monster's back. at this time the crouching shape sprang upward with a sharp cry of anger, almost completely hiding the top of the tower from view, so enormous was the spread of its wings. "there it is! there it is," exclaimed several of the party on the back of the ravine. "an eagle," gasped fred. "the thunder bird," panted carl. "but what's the matter with him?" cried dunk. at the same moment, the boys, staring upward with fascinated eyes, gave a cry of alarm. the great creature seemed flying about wildly, furiously, without sense of, or regard for direction, beating its immense wings against the air, and, instead of attempting to escape, flew straight for the plane, almost colliding with it. fly, who had anticipated a chase, now found himself on the defensive, and was obliged to dodge, circle, swoop and whirl in a manner that made his head swim. although almost near enough to touch the bird at times, the motion of the machine and the strange uncertain course of their antagonist made accurate aim impossible. above them it flew, passing like a dark cloud over the machine, then veering down so suddenly that fly was obliged to concentrate all his energies to get out of its way. it was an equal conflict between nature's great king of the air, and the supreme handicraft of mechanical skill which had been made to conquer it in its own element. "it must be blind," said herb, remembering that carl had told them the thunder bird was sightless in the daylight. "if i could only get a line on it!" the boys below dared not shoot, lest their bullets go astray and strike their friends. the monster seemed possessed by an insane rage, throwing itself about in the air with blind recklessness. "now!" exclaimed fly, as the wily native of the air rushed below them. herb, with the quickness of an experienced hunter, did not waste his chance. there was a loud report, a shrill blood-curdling cry, such as they had heard on two other occasions, and the creature's inert bulk whirled to the earth, landing heavily almost in front of jerry. it was not yet dead however, and the boys made for a safe distance, as the monster, in its death struggle, furiously beat the ground with its powerful wings, springing upward again and again in a desperate effort to recover itself, each time falling back. "finish him," implored fred. "it's a shame to have him suffer." a second later a shot from dunk's rifle stilled the great bird's fluttering form forever. its frightful beak opened and closed, its beastlike talons sought to clutch support, its owl-like eyes became glazed and fixed. the thunder bird had killed his last sheep! hushed and silent the boys crowded around the huddled shape. carl, taking hold of one of its wings, pulled it out to its natural spread. "about four feet," he said. "must have a spread of ten. and about five feet from the end of its beak to the tip of its tail." "wonder how old he is?" speculated fred. just then something fell in their midst. it was a note from herb, weighted with a heavy memorandum book. "we've done the deed. now for the reward," it read. "we can see something glistening like gold under a shelf in the roof. ask carl to get it. we'll drop the ladder." carl waved his hat in assent, while herb swung the rope ladder down, attempting to hitch it at some point on the side of the gorge near the tower. at the third trial, it lodged over a projecting rock, which jutted, hooklike, from the wall of the ravine. carl caught the other end and fastened it. the crossing did not prove as perilous as it looked, for the rope held firm, and it was an easy trick for an indian. after some fumbling among the shrubs, carl disappeared, and the boys knew he must have found an entrance to the dwelling. they were right, for the indian, through a low door obscured by shrubs, had crawled into the house of mystery. though it was dark at first, he soon perceived a thin ray of light percolating through an opening in the roof. he was provided with matches, and lighting a few of these, he scrutinized the walls for some possible handhold by which he could mount. directly under the aperture through which the feeble light came he struck what seemed to be poles projecting from the sides of the tower. "a ladder," he thought, and made short work of the climb. with little difficulty he scrambled through the roof-opening to the outside of the tower. a wall about five feet high ran around the edge of the roof, along the four sides of which was a projecting shelf several feet wide. in the center, cluttered with refuse of all kinds, was the abode of the thunder bird, to which he would never more return. under the shelf in one corner was the shining object the boys had written of. carl uttered an exclamation of surprise and delight when he found this to be a beautiful bowl, apparently of beaten gold, measuring about fifteen inches in diameter, and set with many semi-precious stones of varied hue. "the holy bowl of the medicine men," he said wonderingly, astonished at its seeming newness. though it must be decades old it appeared to have been recently polished. a vague thought of the mysterious indian flashed through carl's mind. he jumped up on the shelf and held up to the admiring gaze of his companions below the brilliant trophy, which glittered with dazzling brightness in the sun. a shout greeted this sign, and, after looking around without success for further relics, he tucked the bowl under his arm and descended. again pushing through the thick foliage that had obscured the low entrance, he came out, flushed and excited, holding the prize aloft. suddenly the watching boys uttered a warning cry, but before he could comprehend it, carl was seized around the waist by strong arms and thrown to the ground with violent force. the next moment he found himself grappling with the strange indian. chapter xix jumping a peak before carl had an opportunity to recover himself the indian had seized the golden bowl and was making off with it at top speed. it did not take the lad long to comprehend the situation, however, and springing to his feet, he soon overtook the would-be thief. wresting the prize from him, and throwing it to one side, carl met the attack with the strength, ability and skill only found in strong young manhood. but the older indian was fully a match for him, and the struggle promised to be a long and hard one if carl were left to fight it alone. [illustration: the struggle promised to be a long and hard one if carl were left to fight it alone. but this the other boys did not propose to allow, and they immediately began to cross on the rope ladder.] this the other boys did not propose should be the case. forgetting all fear for themselves in the face of carl's danger, they immediately prepared to utilize the rope ladder, crossing even more quickly than carl had done and surely with less caution, for their only thought was to come to the rescue of their friend. carl's assailant, whose every energy was strained to gain an advantage, did not hear their approach. before he realized it he found himself helpless in the hands of the strong palefaces, his hands tied behind his back, a threatening remington, in the hands of jerry, pointed meaningly in his direction. he was very much the worse for wear, his face having been severely scratched across the lines of paint, and his clothes considerably disarranged. "well, what shall we do with him?" asked dunk, turning to carl. "he ought to be pitched over the ravine." but the indian boy's face wore a strange expression. his eyes were wide and staring, and he stood, pale and open-mouthed, regarding his helpless enemy. "what's the matter!" cried gray, alarmed. carl did not reply, but walked up to the captive, and, with a hand that shook slightly, examined something that hung on a string around his neck. then he pulled out the charm from under his own shirt. "look," he said huskily. the stones were exactly alike. although the older indian betrayed no signs of surprise or emotion he broke into an angry torrent of apache. carl, stepping forward, took out his hunting knife, and cut the other's bonds. "now get!" he commanded, allowing himself the pleasure of one strong punch at the back of the conquered redskin, who lost no time in making his get-away. "that's my uncle," said carl coolly. "i'm civilized and educated, or i'd kill him. come on, let's get back." the others thought it best not to make any further reference to the matter, and silently followed carl, the bowl again in his possession, across the ladder spanning the cascade. at the same time the boys in the plane, who had watched the conflict with tense anxiety, started back to the fort. "gee, i can't stand much more to-day," ejaculated fly, as they circled the tower for the last time. "strange what a lot can happen to a fellow in a short time," commented herb, reviewing mentally the many adventures in which they had all been involved that summer. "but most important of all," continued fly, "we've laid the thunder bird low--we've done something for your father." "now the next thing is for you to teach us all to aviate," laughed the southerner. "but i don't believe i can ever handle a machine as you do." "sure," exclaimed fly. "why you--" but he stopped short with an exclamation of horror that fairly froze his companion's blood. at the same moment, herb was conscious that something--he knew not what--had happened. the loud insistent voice of the machinery was abruptly stilled. looking perplexedly at fly, he saw great drops of perspiration starting out on the young pilot's forehead. "the motor is dead," he breathed, his throat and lips going dry. for a moment herb's heart seemed to stop in sympathy with the mechanism that had failed them. "can't you volplane," he said giddily. "rocks, peaks, crags," sputtered fly. oh, if he were only over the smooth meadow. but to volplane here would mean certain death. as it was, he was sliding along at a perceptibly lessening speed. any moment the machine might balk and rear, hurling them both to destruction. but fly was plucky and after the first shock he recovered his nerve, bending every energy of mind and body to maintain his balance. to keep high enough and steady enough until they left the mountains was his sole endeavor. after that, he felt confident that he could volplane with safety into the meadow. even now he could see this haven of inviting green tantalizingly near at hand--and yet so far away. grudgingly he was obliged to slant, else the machine would rear and wrest the control from him. but the slightest incline was too much now, for it meant landing on the rocks. though a fever raged in his brain, he was rapidly calculating. someway he must save herb. that was his predominant thought. "i'll do it," he suddenly exclaimed through his shut teeth, at the same moment swooping down with such rapidity that his companion's head was jerked violently back, and he grabbed tight hold of his seat. confident that the end had come, the southerner resolutely shut his eyes and relaxed. but he was sitting rigid a moment later, for the aeroplane had shot upward again with a jerk, mounting higher and higher, until it seemed ready to tip backwards and whirl to earth like the mortally wounded thunder bird. "fly!" he implored, suddenly petrified with the fear that his companion had lost his senses and was deliberately throwing caution to the winds with hopeless recklessness. the suspense was only for a second, although that seemed to span an eternity. at the last moment, when the plane seemed ready to tilt and somersault backwards, fly fairly threw it forward with main force, and, as it plunged swiftly downward, he breathed a reassuring sigh. below them they saw the carpet of the meadow spread out calm and serene, a pale slender stream winding its peaceful course zigzag between flower-decked banks--gently flowing waters that would have reflected their dash to death and destruction as undisturbedly as it mirrored their safe descent. dizzy and faint, but almost sick with joy, they landed gently on the bosom of mother earth. fly had taken a desperate chance to clear the peaks, and had succeeded. "safe!" he groaned, too weak to move from the plane. "i'm so glad, old man," he added huskily. "if anything had happened to you--" "why, it's a couple of boys," a cheerful voice was saying just behind them. herb and fly turned to see two men approaching the plane, and, at the same moment, their eyes took in another strange sight. a hundred feet or so behind them stood another plane! "i must believe it, for i have seen it with my own eyes," continued the speaker, a slender young fellow with a spare blond mustache. "you accomplished a feat there, my boy, that i wouldn't attempt for fifty thousand dollars!" "who are you?" asked fly weakly. surely this was an apparition. the nerve which had upheld him in the face of imminent danger seemed now deserting him. he felt like falling over in a limp heap, abandoning himself to the sick faintness which made his head swim. he saw the stranger as in a haze, and his voice came to him faintly out of the vast distance. "i'll get him some water," said the other man. "he looks sick." "no wonder," exclaimed the other. "i never saw such a performance as that in my life." "is--is that plane yours?" asked herb, who, like fly, did not know whether the two strangers were real beings or ghosts. "sure. i just had a silly little breakdown. stopped to mend it. then--great cæsar, i saw you fellows up there. how my brain went traveling when i realized the plight you were in. and you came through! a couple of kids! who is he?" he continued, referring to fly. "where did he learn to control like that--at his age!" the speaker's friend was forcing fly to drink the water he had brought for him from the stream, and when the boy had moistened his lips, the man bathed his brow and face with the solicitude of a brother. but fly's sinking spell was only momentary and he soon recovered his composure. "where you going?" demanded their new friend breezily. "i'm going to take charge of you. you're in no condition to fly any more to-day." but the young aviator was made of stronger stuff. "oh, i can handle her all right," he said contemptuously, a little ashamed of the weakness he had shown. "what!" ejaculated the blond young man, looking at his friend in amazement, as much as to say, "listen to that, will you!" "nothing doing," he added, decidedly. "barkely, just take care of our baby--follow us up--while i whirl this young dare-devil to--where will it be?" "fort bayard," said herb, laughing. certainly, this was an engaging young fellow, and he didn't mind having him along at all. "now, young man, i'm going to throw you out of that seat if you don't move over, and let me run this thing!" commanded the stranger. "hike!" fly good-naturedly gave way, for he shared herb's admiration and was thoroughly pleased with this new acquaintance. "who--who are you?" asked fly again, as the machine ascended. "that's what i want to know about you," returned the stranger. "i'll tell if you will. my name's chance." "chance!" gasped the boys at once. "sure. ever hear of me?" "you bet," answered herb heartily. "you know hawke, don't you?" "hawke the government aviator?" repeated the stranger in surprise. "yep." "well, he helped us to build this machine, and taught us how to run it," informed fly. "build this machine?" young chance scrutinized his informant as he would look upon a strange, supernatural being. "say," he said. "we want fellows like you in new york. you wouldn't mind making some good money, would you?" "i--i--" began fly, but he could not wield his tongue somehow. "got a father around the fort?" asked the young aviator brusquely. "yes--yes," answered fly. "you must meet him." that evening, when herb met the boys returning from their mountain trip, triumphantly bearing the thunder bird, which dunk and jerry carried with the aid of a stout branch stuck through its bound feet, and happily flashing the golden bowl, he ceremoniously held up his hand for them to halt, demanding silence. "we formed a boy scout patrol," he began strangely. "didn't we?" "why--yes," replied fred, wonderingly. "that's nothing." herb wrinkled his nose contemptuously. "and shot a grizzly?" he interrogated. "why yes," answered gray, regarding him with a puzzled expression. "that's nothin'," repeated the southerner. "we built an aeroplane," he went on. "that's nothin'. mere trifle. we shot the thunder bird. nothin', nothin' at all. that bowl's nothin'." "say, what you driving at," exclaimed jerry. "spit it out quick, or you to the bug house." "because something has happened that makes everythin' else look like a thunder clap when it quits." "what?" "fly's goin' to new york to be an aviator with chance!" * * * * * vacation is over. we are again waiting for the train in the stuffy little depot at silver city. gray and fred are there--they are going back to school. mr. phipps is there, smiling happily upon the handsome boy who is returning to college. captain crawford and his wife are there, proud of the stalwart young son they are sending to new jersey, where he will complete his education at princeton. lieutenant rivers and his wife are there, for dunk is going to an eastern medical school. and carl is there, for carl too is going to college. true, he lost the money he had saved for the purpose, but the golden bowl, which the boys persuaded him was his by right of conquest, proved to be of sufficient value to pay his way through and leave him a generous surplus. thus, after all, the unselfish indian realized his dream. one of the boys is missing--fly. he left a month ago for new york, where he has already met mr. chance, and is showing promise of being one of the most successful bird-men of the day. before leaving the fort, he gave all of the boys sufficient instruction to enable them to fly alone, and to qualify for the aviation medal, which, with a number of other awards, for first aid, machinery, marksmanship and stalking, were promptly awarded to the members of the thunder bird patrol, at the recommendation of hawke, who remembers them now and then with letters from juarez. the _thunder bird_ aeroplane is safely packed away at the phipps ranch, where it is to remain until next summer, for, if all turns out well, the boys are again to spend their next vacation in new mexico. as for the thunder bird himself, stuffed and mounted it occupies a prominent place in the phipps ranch-house. so hideous is its aspect even in this harmless condition, that you would not care to stumble on it unawares in the dark, but it no longer makes nightly visits to the sheepfold for prey. the treacherous redskin, his idol dead, has disappeared, and, according to tommy, has gone back to the mexican gold fields. the antiquated train finally reaches the old depot, puffing and blowing as though short of breath. our young friends scramble into the dusty coaches, stumbling over their suit cases, and bumping good-naturedly against one another. there are reluctant but cheerful good-byes, and the wheels turn slowly, gathering speed as the last coach passes the station. the last we see of it, handkerchiefs are still fluttering and hats waving farewell. the boy scouts of the air books _by_ gordon stuart are stirring stories of adventure in which real boys, clean-cut and wide-awake, do the things other wide-awake boys like to read about. the boy scouts of the air at eagle camp the boy scouts of the air at greenwood school the boy scouts of the air in indian land the boy scouts of the air in northern wilds the boy scouts of the air on flathead mountain the boys' big game series the giant moose. the monarch of the big northwest; a story told over camp fires in the reak of cedar smoke and the silence of the barrens. the white tiger of nepal. the weird story of the man-killer of the foothills. tinged with the mysticism of india, dramatic and stirring. the blind lion of the congo. a story of the least known part of the earth and its most feared beast. a gripping tale of the land of the white pigmies. the king bear of kadiak island. a tale of the bully of the frozen north and his mysterious guardian. a game-and-man-story that makes a good boy-story. the rogue elephant. a big game hunt that leads into strange lands and stranger adventures in a real big game country. _books for older children by l. frank baum_ the daring twins series in writing "the daring twins series" mr. baum yielded to the hundreds of requests that have been made of him by youngsters, both boys and girls, who in their early childhood read and loved his famous "oz" books, to write a story for young folk of the ages between twelve and eighteen. a story of the real life of real boys and girls in a real family under real conditions. _two titles:_ the daring twins phoebe daring while preparing these books mr. baum lived with his characters. they have every element of the drama of life as it begins within the lives of children. the two stories are a mixture of the sublime and the ridiculous; the foibles and fancies of childhood, interspersed with humor and pathos. the famous airship boys series _by_ h. l. sayler _seven titles_ the airship boys or, the quest of the aztec treasure the airship boys adrift or, saved by an aeroplane the airship boys due north or, by balloon to the pole the airship boys in the barren lands or, the secret of the white eskimos the airship boys in finance or, the flight of the flying cow the airship boys' ocean flyer or, new york to london in twelve hours the airship boys as detectives or, on secret service in cloudland fascinating stories of that wonderful region of invention where imagination and reality so nearly meet. there is no more interesting field for stories for wide-awake boys. mr. sayler combines a remarkable narrative ability with a degree of technical knowledge that makes these books correct in all airship details. full of adventure without being sensational. the captain becky series _by_ margaret love sanderson resourceful, self-reliant, sunny-natured captain becky will find many friends among girl readers. the captain becky series is a noteworthy contribution to books for girls--distinctive and individual in every detail, inside and out. two very much alive stories of a girl who makes things happen--who is a _doer_. whether she is on cruise on the picturesque indian river in florida or in laughable masquerade among the old homesteads of new hampshire, her experiences are worth writing about--and worth reading. two titles: captain becky's winter cruise. captain becky's masquerade. the aeroplane boys series _by_ ashton lamar "the best yet written," says the grand rapids herald. these stories have a strong appeal to the active american boy, as their steady sales bear witness. each of the seven titles already published has met with great popularity, and the new title, "on the edge of the arctic," is the best of the series. correct in all mechanical details, full of wholesome adventure and excitement. eight titles _in the clouds for uncle sam or, morey marshall of the signal corps_ _the stolen aeroplane or, how bud wilson made good_ _the aeroplane express or, the boy aeronaut's grit_ _the boy aeronauts' club or, flying for fun_ _a cruise in the sky or, the legend of the great pink pearl_ _battling the bighorn or, the aeroplane in the rockies_ _when scout meets scout or, the aeroplane spy_ _on the edge of the arctic or, an aeroplane in snowland_ the aunt jane's nieces series books for girls _by_ edith van dyne eight titles _aunt jane's nieces_ _aunt jane's nieces abroad_ _aunt jane's nieces at millville_ _aunt jane's nieces at work_ _aunt jane's nieces in society_ _aunt jane's nieces and uncle john_ _aunt jane's nieces on vacation_ _aunt jane's nieces on the ranch_ distinctly girls' books and yet stories that will appeal to _brother_ as well--and to older folk. real and vital--rousing stories of the experiences and exploits of three real girls who do things. without being sensational, mrs. van dyne has succeeded in writing a series of stories that have the tug and stir of fresh young blood in them. each story is complete in itself. the girl graduate her own book _a novelty every girl wants_ in which to keep the happy record of her last year at school or college--a book she will keep and prize always. there is a place for everything dear to the girl graduate's heart and memory--class flower, color, yell, motto, photographs, jokes and frolics. departments for social events, officers, teachers, invitations, baccalaureate sermon, programmes, presents, press notices, class prophecy and various "doings." the girl graduate is equally appropriate for young girls leaving grade or high schools and their older sisters who have "finished" at college or boarding school. it makes a suitable present at any season of the year. annabel _by_ susanne metcalf a girls' book with a clever, quick-moving plot is unusual. annabel is that kind. the heroine is a lovable girl, but one with plenty of snap--her red hair testifies to that. her friend, will carden, too, is a boy of unusual qualities, as is apparent in everything he does. he and annabel make an excellent team. the two, the best of chums, retrieve the fortunes of the carden family in a way that makes some exciting situations. the secret of the mysterious mr. jordan is surprised by annabel, while will, in a trip to england with an unexpected climax, finds the real fortune of the cardens. annabel is a book whose make-up is in keeping with the high quality of the story. school-fellow days _designed by_ clara powers wilson _a memory book for younger boys_ a record book suitable for boys of the upper grammar grades, through high school, preparatory school and military academy. striking illustrations, printed in two colors on specially made, tinted paper with good writing surface. my golden school days for schoolboys of all ages--with places and departments for every important item of interest--and containing appropriate verses and poems. azalea _by_ elia w. peattie the first book of the "blue ridge" series azalea is the heroine of a good, wholesome story that will appeal to every mother as the sort of book she would like her daughter to read. in the homy mcbirneys of mt. tennyson, down in the blue ridge country, and their hearty mountain neighbors, girl readers will find new friends they will be glad to make old friends. this book marks a distinct advance in the quality of books offered for girls. no lack of action--no sacrifice of charm. the flying girl series _by_ edith van dyne _author of "aunt jane's nieces" series_ _exhilarating books for girls of today_ capital up-to-the-minute stories for girls and young people, in which the author is at her very best. thrilling and full of adventure, but of that wholesome type parents are glad to put in the hands of their daughters. two titles: the flying girl orissa kane, self-reliant and full of sparkling good nature, under-study for her brother, prospective inventor and aviator whose experiments put the kane family into great difficulties, in the crisis proves resourceful and plucky, and saves the day in a most thrilling manner. the flying girl and her chum this story takes orissa and her friend sybil through further adventures that test these two clever girls to the limit. a remarkably well told story. scanned by sean pobuda (jpobuda@adelphia.net) boy scouts in the coal caverns, or the light in tunnel six by major archibald lee fletcher chapter i camping in the breaker "and so i says to myself, says i, give me a good husky band of boy scouts! they'll do the job if it can be done!" case canfield, caretaker, sat back in a patched chair in the dusky, unoccupied office of the labyrinth mine and addressed himself to four lads of seventeen who were clad in the khaki uniform of the boy scouts of america. those of our readers who have read the previous books of this series will have good cause to remember george benton, charley ("sandy") green, tommy gregory and will smith. the adventures of these lads among the pictured rocks of old superior, among the wreckers and reptiles of the florida everglades, in the caverns of the great continental divide, and among the snows of the hudson bay wilderness have been recorded under appropriate titles in previous works. the four boys were members of the beaver patrol, chicago. will smith was scoutmaster, while george benton was patrol leader. they wore upon the sleeves of their coats medals showing that they had passed the examination as ambulance aids, stalkers, pioneers and seamen. instructed by mr. horton, a well-known criminal lawyer of chicago, the boys had reached the almost deserted mine at dusk of a november day. there they had found canfield, the caretaker, waiting for them in a dimly-lighted office. the mine had not been operated for a number of months, not because the veins had given out, but because of some misunderstanding between the owners of mines in that section. the large, bare room in which the caretaker and the boy scouts met was in the breaker. there was no fire in the great heater, and the tables and chairs were black with dust. a single electric light shone down from the ceiling, creating long, ghost-like shadows as it swayed about in a gentle wind blowing through a broken window. "well," tommy gregory said, as the caretaker paused, "you've got the boy scouts, and it remains for you to set us to work." "and a sturdy looking lot, too!" grinned the caretaker. "oh, mr. horton wouldn't be apt to send a lot of cripples!" laughed sandy green. "he's next to his job, that man is!" "i presume he told you all about the case?" suggested canfield. "indeed he did not," replied will smith. "not a thing about it?" asked the caretaker. "he only said that you would give us full instructions." "that's strange!" canfield observed thoughtfully. "perhaps he thought we wouldn't want to undertake the job if we knew exactly what it was!" suggested sandy. "it is a queer kind of a job," canfield admitted, "but i don't think you boys would be apt to back out because of a little danger." "i wanted to back out several times," laughed tommy, "but, somehow, these others boys wouldn't permit me to." "go on and tell us about it," urged sandy. "tell us just what you want us to do, and then we'll tell you whether we think we can do it or not." "you've got to find two boys!" replied canfield. "mother of moses!" exclaimed tommy. "i hope we haven't got to go and dig up blond-haired little algernon, or discover pretty little clarence, and turn a bunch of money over to him!" "i think these two boys may have money coming to them," the caretaker replied. "there must be money back of it or the friends of the lads wouldn't be giving me cash to spent in their interest." "where are these boys?" asked will. "i've heard the opinion expressed that the boys are somewhere in the mine!" answered canfield. "i can hardly believe that they are, but it has been suggested that we may as well begin the search under ground." "where do these boys belong?" asked george. "anywhere and everywhere," was the reply. "jimmie maynard and dick thompson came here as breaker boys six months ago. they were ragged and dirty, and appeared to be as tough as two young bears. they worked steadily until the day before the mine closed down and then they disappeared." "that's easy," declared tommy. "they got tired of work!" "that may be," answered the caretaker, "but they certainly didn't get tired of drawing their pay. they went away leaving about eight dollars the two of them in the care of the company." "then something must have happened to them!" will suggested. "who's looking for these boys?" asked george. "a new york lawyer," was the reply. "i know nothing whatever about the man. in fact, i don't know why he wants to find out where the boys are. he sends me money and tells me to continue my quest until the boys are found, and then to send them to new york." "so you have entire charge of the search," said sandy, tentatively. "yes," was the reply, "except for joe ventner. he's a detective sent on from new york by this burlingame person, the lawyer to whom i referred a short time ago." "what part of the world is he searching?" asked will. "he seems to think that the boys ran away because of some childish prank put on by them the night before. they broke some windows in a couple of shanties down by the tracks, or, at least, the other boys say they did, and joe thinks they ran away because of that. he accounts in that way for them not calling after their pay envelopes." "so he thinks they've gone out of the country, does he." "yes," was the reply. "he comes back here every few days to ask if i have heard anything regarding the youngsters, and then goes away again. if you leave it to me, i don't think the fellow is working very hard in the case. there's a half a dozen saloons in a little dump of a place about ten miles away, and my idea is that he puts in a good deal of his time there." "you don't seem to take to this detective?" asked george. "oh, i don't know, as he's so much worse than the average private detective," replied the caretaker. "he's out for his day's wages, and the easier he can get them, the better it suits him." "so you don't know who wants these boys, or what they're wanted for?" asked will. "lawyer burlingame never took you into his confidence so far as to post you on the details of the case?" "he never did!" answered the caretaker. "is he liberal with his money?" asked george. "he pays all the bills i send in," was the answer. "and seems to keep this bum detective pretty well supplied with ten dollar bills." "we may have to investigate this investigator!" laughed sandy. "did mr. horton say anything to you about your lodgings while here?" asked the caretaker. "it's getting too cold here for me, and we may as well be shifting to warmer quarters." "you said a short time ago," will began, "that you rather thought we ought to begin this search in the mine itself." "that's my idea!" answered the caretaker. "do you think the boys are hiding in the mine?" "well, there are some things connected with the case which point in that direction," replied canfield. "for instance, there's a lot of queer things going on underground." "ghosts?" demanded tommy. "you're not steering us up against a haunted mine, are you?" asked george with a wink at his chum. "that would be too good to be true!" "i haven't said anything about ghosts or haunted mines," chuckled the caretaker. "i'm only saying that there are queer things taking place in the mine. now there's tunnel six," he went on, "i have seen lights there with my own eyes, when i know there wasn't a person within two miles of the spot except myself. and i've heard noises, too! these unaccountable noises which make a man think of graveyards and ghosts." "but why should two healthy, active boys want to seek such a hiding place?" asked will. "it certainly can't be very pleasant in the dark and damp tunnels! besides, where would they get their provisions?" "i'm not arguing the case, lads," the caretaker replied, "i'm placing the case in your hands without instructions. i only suggest that you look in the mine first, but you don't have to do that unless you want to!" "i don't see how we can find fault with that arrangement!" laughed will. "and now," he went on, let's arrange about our lodgings. in the first place, who knows that we are here on this job?" "not a soul, unless some one saw you coming into the breaker!" "that's just as it should be," will went on. "now i propose that we camp out in the breaker. there must be a cozy corner somewhere, under the chutes, or in back of a staircase, or away up under the roof, where we can camp out while we are going through the mine." "you won't find the old breaker a very comfortable place to live in," suggested canfield. "well, we can line the walls of some little cubbyhole with canvas if necessary, and you can string a wire in so as to give us electricity for heating and lighting, and we can live as comfortable as four bugs in a rug. if we keep out of sight during the day time, no one will ever suspect that we are here." "have it your own way!" replied canfield. "i'll see that you get plenty to eat and plenty of bed clothing." "that'll help some!" laughed tommy. "during the night we can travel through the mine with our lights, and during the daytime we can crawl into our little beds and sleep our heads off!" "when do you want your first load of provisions?" asked canfield. "right now, tonight!" replied sandy. "well, come along then," canfield said, rising from his chair, "and i'll let you pick out a spot for your camp, as you call it." after quite an extended search through the breaker the boys selected a small room on the ground floor, from which one window looked out on the half deserted yard where the weigh-house stood. the room was perhaps twenty feet in size each way, and the walls were of heavy planking. the whole apartment was sadly in need of it scrubbing, but the lads concluded to postpone that until some future date. "i can bring in cot beds and bedding," the caretaker announced, "and string the electric wire for heating, lighting, and cooking before i go to bed. that will leave you all shipshape in the morning, and you can then begin your cleaning up as soon as you please." the caretaker was as good as his word, and before ten o'clock the cots and bedding were in place, also an electric heater and an electric plate for cooking had been moved into the apartment. not considering it advisable to go out for supper, canfield had also brought in provisions in the shape of bacon, potatoes, eggs, bread, butter, coffee, and various grades of canned goods, so the boys had made a hearty meal and had plenty left for breakfast. while cooking they had covered the one window with a heavy piece of canvas. "now you're all, tight and snug for the night," the caretaker smiled, as he turned back from the door and glanced over the rather cozy-looking room. "if i'm about here during the night, i'll look in upon you again." canfield stepped out and closed the door behind him. then he came back and looked in again with a big smile on his face. "do you boys know anything about mines?" he asked. "not, a thing!" replied tommy. "then don't you go climbing down the ladders and wandering around in the gangways tonight," the caretaker warned. "say, there's an idea!" tommy said to sandy, with a wink, as canfield went out. "how do you think one of these mammoth coal mines looks, any way?" "cut that out, boys!" exclaimed will. "if i catch one of you attempting the ladders tonight, i'll tie you up!" "who said anything about going down the ladders tonight?" demanded tommy. chapter ii the call of the pack it was somewhere near midnight when the boys sought their beds. will and george were soon asleep, but tommy and sandy had no notion of passing their first night in the mine in slumber. ten minutes after the regular breathing of the two sleepers became audible, tommy sat up in his bed and deftly threw a pillow so as to strike sandy in the face. "cut it out!" whispered sandy. "you don't have to do anything to wake me up! i've been wondering for a long time whether you hadn't gone to sleep! you looked sleepy when the light went out." "never was so wide awake in my life!" declared tommy. "well, get up and dress," advised sandy. "if we get into the mine tonight, we'll have to hurry!" "have you figured out how we're going to get into the mine?" asked tommy. "it will be the ladders for us, i guess." "of course, it'll be the ladders!" replied sandy. "do you suppose canfield is coming here in the middle of the night to turn on the power?" "i wonder how deep the shaft is?" asked tommy. "i guess this one must be about five hundred feet." "is that a guess, or a piece of positive information?" "it's a guess," laughed sandy, drawing on his shoes and walking softly across the bare floor in the direction of the shaft. the boys passed out of the sleeping chamber into a passage which led directly to the shaft of the mine. this shaft was perhaps twenty feet in width. it included the air shaft, the division where the pumps were operated, and two divisions for the cages which lifted the coal from the bottom of the mine. the pumps were not working, of course, and no air was being forced down. one of the cages lay at the top so the other must have been at the bottom of the shaft. as the boys looked down into the shaft, tommy seized his chum by the arm and whispered: "did you see that light down there?" "light nothing!" declared sandy. "but i did see a light!" insisted the other. "perhaps you did," replied sandy, "but if there's any light there it's merely a reflection from our electrics. there may be a metallic surface down there which throws back the light rays." "have it your own way!" grunted tommy. "you know yourself that the caretaker said there were lights in the mine which no one could account for and he especially mentioned the light in tunnel six. "all right!" sandy grinned. "we'll sneak down so quietly that any person who happens to be at the bottom of the shaft with the light will never suspect that we are within a hundred miles of the place. we may be able to geezle the fellow that's making the ghost walk around here nights." the boys took to the ladders and moved down as silently as possible. now and then a rung creaked softly under their feet, but they got to the bottom without any special mishap. tommy drew a long breath when at last they landed at the bottom of the shaft. he threw his light upward, then, and declared that in his opinion they were at least ten thousand feet nearer the center of the earth than they were when they started down. "i remember now," sandy said with a grin, "that the labyrinth mine is only about five hundred feet deep. if i remember correctly, there are three levels; one at three hundred feet; one at four, and one at five." "and which level is this?" asked tommy. "why, we're on the bottom, ain't we?" "of course," laughed tommy. "i ought to have known that!" "well come along if you want to see the mine!" urged sandy. "all we have to do is to push our searchlights ahead and walk down the gangway. we'll come to something worth seeing after a while." as the boys advanced they found the gangway considerably cluttered with "gob," or refuse, and the air was none of the best. "i wish we could set the air shaft working," suggested sandy. "well, we can't!" tommy answered with a scornful shrug of his shoulders. "we can't set the whole works going in order to give us a midnight view of the labyrinth mine. what gets me is how are we going to find our way back? there seem to be a good many passages here." "i've got that fixed all right!" sandy exclaimed. as the lad spoke he took a ball of strong string from his pocket and tied one end to the cage which lay at the bottom of the shaft. "now we can go anywhere we please," he chuckled, "and when we want to return, all we've got to do is to follow the string." "quite an idea!" laughed tommy. the boys proceeded along the gangway, walking between the rails of the tramway by means of which the coal was delivered at the bottom of the shaft. the experience was a novel one to them. the dark walls of the passage, the echoes which came from the counter gangways, the monotonous dripping of water, as it seeped through seams and crevices in the rock, all gave a weird and uncanny expression to the place. after walking for some distance the boys came to a level which showed several inches of water. "we can't wade through that!" tommy declared. "well," sandy suggested, "if we go back a little ways, we can follow a cross heading and get into the mine by another way." the boys followed this plan, and, after winding about several half-loaded cars which had been left on the tramway, found themselves in a large chamber from which numerous benches were cut. "where does all this gas come from?" asked tommy stopping short and putting a hand to his nose. "there must be a blower somewhere," sandy explained. "what's a blower?" demanded tommy. "what does it look like, and does it always smell like this?" "it doesn't look like anything!" replied sandy. "it's composed of natural gas, and they call it a blower because it blows up out of crevices in the coal and in the rocks." "if i should light a match, would it set it on, fire?" asked tommy. "i wouldn't like to have you try it!" the boys continued on their way for some moments, and then tommy stopped and extinguished his light, whispering to sandy to do the same. "what's that for?" demanded the latter. "didn't you hear that noise behind the cribbing?" asked tommy. "rats, probably!" "rats nothing!" replied tommy. "rats don't make sounds like people whispering, do they? keep still a minute, and we'll find out what it is!" "you'll be, seeing a light next!" sandy suggested. "i see it now!" answered tommy. sandy saw it, too, in a moment. it seemed at first to be floating in the air at the very top of the gangway. it moved from side to side, and finally dropped down nearer to the floor. there seemed to be no one near it or under it. its small circle of illumination showed only the empty air. "what do you make of it?" asked tommy. "is this tunnel six?" asked his chum. "i don't know! if it is, we've seen the light the caretaker referred to. we'll have a great story to tell in the morning!" the boys stood in the darkness of the gangway watching the light for what seemed to them to be a long time. now the light advanced toward them, now it receded. now it lifted to the roof of the gangway, now it dropped almost to the floor. at intervals, the noises behind the cribbing to which tommy had referred were repeated, and the boys at last moved over so as to stand with their ears almost against the wooden walls. "there is some one behind the cribbing, all right!" tommy declared. "i hear some one breathing." "aw, keep still!" whispered sandy. "if there is anyone there, you'll frighten them away! i though i heard some one myself!" "i'll tell you what i think," tommy suggested in a moment, "and that is that either will and george, or both of them, beat us to this gangway. they are hiding behind there on purpose to give us a scare." "that's a dream!" replied sandy. "we left them both asleep." "dream, is it?" repeated tommy scornfully. "you just listen to the sound that comes from behind this cribbing, and tell me what you make of it!" both boys listened intently for a moment, and then sandy switched on his light and moved swiftly along the cribbing as if in search of an opening. tommy gazed at him in astonishment. "you've gone and done it now!" he said. "there's some one in here all right!" sandy explained. "did you hear the call of the pack a minute ago? there are boy scouts in there, and what we hear are the signals of the wolf patrol." "that's right!" cried tommy excitedly. "that's right!" chapter iii who cut the string "do you suppose he would understand the call of the beaver patrol?" asked sandy. "i'm going to try him, anyway!" the boy brought his hands together in imitation of the slap of a beaver's tail on the water, and listened for some reply. "he'll understand that if he's up on boy scout literature," suggested sandy. "he ought to be wise to the signs of the different patrols if he's a good boy scout." there was a short silence, broken only by the constant drip of the water in an adjoining chamber and then the call of the pack came again, clearly, sharply and apparently only a short distance away. "what did mr. canfield call those two boys we are looking after?" asked sandy, after waiting a short time for the repetition of the sound. "jimmie maynard and dick thompson," replied tommy. sandy threw out his chest and cried out at the top of his lungs. "hello, jimmie! hello, dick!" the lad's voice echoed dismally throughout the labyrinth of passages, but there was no other reply. tommy and sandy gave the call of the beaver patrol repeatedly, but the call of the wolf pack was heard no more. "i'll bet it's some trick!" exclaimed sandy after waiting in the chamber for a long time in the hope of hearing another call from the boys who were hidden somewhere behind the cribbing. "what do you mean by trick?" demanded tommy. "why, i mean that some of the breaker boys, out of work because of the stoppage of operations, may have sneaked into the mine on purpose to produce the impression that there are ghosts here." "but ghosts wouldn't be giving signals of the wolf patrol, would they?" asked tommy. "not unless they were scouts," replied the other. "oh, well, of course the kids would want to test us, wouldn't they, seeing that we were only boys?" "well, we've discovered one thing by coming down here," said tommy, "and that is that there really are people in the mine who have no business here." "then we may as well go back to bed," advised sandy. "do you know how many corners we've turned since we came in here?" asked tommy. "about a thousand, i guess," replied sandy. "yes, and we'd have a fine old time getting out if you hadn't brought that ball of twine!" "tell you what we'll do," sandy said, as the boys turned their faces down the gangway, "we'll pass around the next shoulder of rock and then shut off our lights. perhaps, the kids who gave the cry of the pack in there will then show their light again." "that's a good idea, too!" the boys came at length to a brattice, which is a screen, of either wood or heavy cloth, set up in a passage to divert the current of air to a bench where workmen are engaged, and dodged down behind it, after turning off their lights, of course, "now, come on with your old light," whispered tommy. as if in answer to the boy's challenge, the light showed again, apparently but a few yards way from their hiding place. a moment later the call of pack sounding louder than before, rang through the passage. the boys sprang to their feet and switched on their lights. "why don't you come out and show yourselves?" shouted tommy. "i don't believe you're scouts at all!" declared sandy. there was no answer. the boys could hear the drip of water and the purring of the current as it crept into a lower gang-way, but that was all. "that settles it for tonight!" exclaimed tommy. "i'm not going to hang around here waiting for boy scouts who don't respond to signals!" "that's me!" agreed sandy. "we'll go to bed and think the matter over. there may be some way of trapping those fellows." "suppose it should be jimmie maynard and dick thomson?" asked tommy. "then we'd have the case closed up in a jiffy!" was the reply. before leaving that particular chamber, tommy selected a large round piece of "gob," placed it in the center of the open space, and laid another small piece of shale on top of it. "what are you doing that for?" demanded sandy. "don't you know your indian signs?" demanded the boy. "this means, 'this is the trail.' now i'll put one stone to the right and that will tell these imitation boy scouts to turn to the right if they want to get out." "i guess they can get out if they want to," suggested sandy. thirty or forty feet further on, where, following the string, the boys turned again, this time to the left, tommy laid another signal which showed the direction to be taken. "there," he said with a grin, "we've started them on the right path. if they don't want to follow it, that isn't our fault!" "we must be getting pretty near the shaft," sandy said, after the boys had walked for nearly half an hour on the backward track. "pull on your string," suggested tommy, "and see if it stiffens up like only a short length of it remained out." sandy did as requested, and then dropped to the floor with his searchlight laid along the extension of the cord. "the other end is loose!" he said in a tone of alarm. "loose?" echoed tommy. "how did it ever get loose?" sandy sat down on the floor of the passage and began drawing the cord in, hand over hand. "i'm going to see if it's been cut!" he said. tommy stepped on the swiftly moving cord and held it fast to the floor. "you mustn't draw it in!" he exclaimed. "as long as it lies on the floor as we strung it out, we can follow it without taking any chances. if you pull it in, then it's all off." "i understand!" sandy agreed. "i didn't pull much of it in." the boys started up the gangway, one of them keeping a searchlight on the white thread of cord. they seemed to make a great many turns and once or twice sandy declared that they were walking round and round in a circle. "i don't believe the passages run so we could walk around in a circle!" argued tommy. "that ain't the way they run passages in mines!" "i don't care!" sandy insisted. "we've been turning to the left about all the time, and if you leave it to me, we'll presently come out in the chamber where we heard the call of the pack!" "that may be right," admitted tommy. "it does seem as if we'd been turning to the left most of the time. besides," he went on, "we've been walking long enough to have reached the shaft three or four times." "and yet," argued sandy, "we've been following the line of the cord every step. it lies right in the middle of the gangway here, and we're going the way it points all the time." this bit of reasoning seemed to give the boys fresh courage, and they walked on, expecting every moment to come in sight of the frame work which surrounded the shaft. at length, after a long half hour, tommy stumbled over an obstruction lying in a chamber which somehow seemed strangely familiar. he lifted his foot and gave the obstruction a hearty kick. "that's my indian sign of the trail!" grunted sandy. "for the love of mike!" exclaimed tommy. "have we been traveling all this time to come out in this same old hole at last?" "that's what we have!" replied sandy. "if we had paid no attention to the string whatever and followed the rails when we came to the main gang way, we would have been home and in bed by this time!" "but we didn't," grinned tommy. "we thought we had a cinch on getting out by way of this cord and so we followed that. i don't see, though," he continued, "how we came back to this same old chamber by following the cord. that looks queer to me!" "i'll tell you how!" replied sandy. "there's some gink been walking on ahead of us stringing the cord out for us to follow!" tommy sat down on the bottom of the chamber and wrinkled his freckled nose provokingly. "we're a couple of easy marks!" he laughed. "easy marks is no name for, it!" "well, what'll we do now to get out?" tommy asked. "first thing we know, it'll be daylight, and then will and george'll be calling out the police to find us. we ought to get home before they wake." "i'm willing!" declared sandy. "i'd like to be in my little bed this minute! i've had about enough of this foul air!" the boys passed along until they came to the second trail sign and then stopped. tommy pointed down to it with a hand which was not quite steady and looked up into his chum's face with frightened eyes. "that's been moved!" he said. "how do you know it's been moved?" "because you had the side stone on the other edge." "i don't think i did!" argued sandy. the boys puzzled over the situation for a few moments, and then proceeded down the chamber looking for the tramway rails. they passed from chamber to chamber and finally came to a place where the slope was upward. "i guess we've struck it at last!" sandy exclaimed. "but there are no rails here!" tommy argued. "then we're on the wrong track again," admitted sandy. he bent down to the rock with his searchlight and pointed out evidences that the passage had once been laid with rails. "when they strip a chamber or a counter gangway," he said, "they take away the rails. it seems that we are now in a part of the labyrinth mine which has been worked out." "i know what to do!" exclaimed tommy. "i'll give the call of the beaver patrol and tell those ginks who have been giving the call of the pack that we're lost! that ought to bring them out of their holes." the beaver call was given time after time, but no reply came. "say," tommy said after his patience had become exhausted, "i believe it's daylight. look at your watch. i left mine in the bed!" "i left mine in bed, too," answered sandy. "i know it is day, because i'm hungry." chapter iv a sensational discovery when will awoke he began preparations for breakfast before paying any attention whatever to his chums, whom he believed to be sleeping quietly on their cots. it was november, and quite chilly in the apartment, so his next efforts were directed to coaxing the electric coils into a cheery glow. presently george came tumbling out in his pajamas and sat down on a rickety chair to talk of the adventures in prospect. "i wonder if the labyrinth mine is so much of a labyrinth after all?" he asked. "it seems to me that we might find our way through it without danger of losing ourselves," he continued with a yawn. "it's some labyrinth, i take it," will replied. "well, we can make chalk marks on the walls as we move along," suggested george. "besides," he added, "we can string an electric wire through the center gangway and turn on the lights." "there are probably electric lights there now," answered will. "then there's no danger of our becoming lost," george argued. "i wish you'd go to the back of the room and tip over those two cots," grinned will. "it's the hardest kind of work to get tommy and sandy to bed, but when you do get them in bed once, it's harder still to get them out of it. just tip the cots over and roll 'em out on the floor." george approached the two cots in a stealthy manner and made ready to give tommy and sandy the bump of their lives. "don't break their necks!" advised will. as soon as george reached tommy's bunk he stretched forth a hand for the purpose of tangling the boy up in the bed clothing so that his fall to the hard floor might be in a measure broken. as, he swung his hand over the cot, however, his eyes widened and he called out to will that the boys were not in their cots. there was a look of alarm as well as of annoyance on each face as the lads thought over the situation. "the little idiots!" exclaimed will. "that isn't strong enough!" george corrected. "there's no knowing how long they've been gone," will suggested. "the chances are that they went away as soon as we went to sleep." "in that case, they're in trouble!" george declared. "in what kind of trouble?" "the good lord only knows!" replied george. "tommy and sandy can get into more different kinds of trouble in less time than any other boys on the face of the earth. they're the original lookers for trouble!" "do you suppose they've got lost in the mine?" asked will. "it may be worse than that!"' cried george. "they may have butted into some of the people the caretaker indirectly referred to last night." "he did speak of strange noises and mysterious lights, didn't he?" "he certainly did, and i've got a hunch that sandy and tommy have butted into some hostile interests. "it does seem as if they would be back by this time unless they were in trouble!" the boys prepared an elaborate breakfast in the hope that tommy and sandy, who would be sure to be hungry, would return in time to partake of it. a dozen times during the meal they walked back to the shaft opening and looked anxiously down into the dark bowels of the mine. "those fellows are always getting into trouble," will said, rather crossly, as he stood looking down. "they have a way of running into most of their dangers at night, too. it was the same up on lake superior, the same in the snake-haunted everglades of florida; the same on the rocky mountains, and the same in the hudson bay country." "they sure do keep things moving," grinned george. "i think," will suggested after a time, "that we'd better find canfield and get his advice before we do anything in the way of setting up a search. i hate to admit that two members of our party got into a scrape on the same night we struck the mine, but i guess there's, no way out of it." while the boys talked together, the door opened softly and the caretaker entered, accompanied by a short, paunchy man with a very red face and eyes which were black, small and suspicious. he was a man well past middle age, but he seemed to be making a bluff at thirty-five. his hair, which had turned white at the temples, and his moustache were both dyed black. canfield introduced the new-comer as the detective, joe ventner, of new york, and the boys greeted him courteously. he accepted their proffered hands with an air of condescension which was most exasperating. he puffed out his chest, and at once began talking of some of his alleged exploits in the secret service of the government. "how did you pass the night, boys?" ask canfield. "slept like pigs," replied will with a laugh. "where are the others?" asked canfield. "they're out getting a breath of fresh air, i reckon," answered george. the boys did not take to the detective at all. there was an air of insincerity about the man which at once put them on their guard. had canfield visited them alone, they would have explained to him the exact situation. in the presence of this detective, however, they decided to do nothing of the kind. "now then," the detective said after a moment's silence, "if you boys will outline the course you intend to pursue in this matter, i think we can arrange to work together without our plans clashing." "we have talked the matter over during the night," will replied, "and have decided to remain here only long enough to obtain some clue as to the direction taken by the boys in their departure." "then you think they are not here?" asked the detective. "there is no reason why they should be here, is there?" asked will. "i don't know that there is," replied ventner. "can you imagine any reason for their wanting to linger about the mine?" asked george. "no," was the reply. "it has always been my opinion that the boys left the mine because they feared arrest for some boyish offense committed in some other part of the country, and that they are now far away from this place." both lads observed that the detective seemed particularly pleased with the statement that they proposed to abandon the search of the mine immediately. somehow, they caught the impression that they would interfere with his plans if they remained. "it might be well," ventner said, directly, "to keep me posted as to any discoveries you may make. we must work together, you know." "certainly," replied will, speaking with a mental reservation which did not include giving up of any information worth while. "well, then i'll be going," the detective said, strutting across the room, with his little round belly protruding like that of an insect. "you can always find me at the hotel down here, if i'm in this part of the country. just ask for me ask for me and i'll show up." canfield was turning to depart with the detective when will motioned him to remain. the caretaker turned back with a surprised look. will waited until the door had closed on the detective before speaking. even then, he went to the door and glanced down the passage. "something exciting?" smiled the caretaker, noting the boy's caution. will answered, "there's something exciting. tommy and sandy disappeared during the night." "disappeared?" echoed the caretaker. "yes," george cut in, "there was some talk of their visiting the mine just before we went to bed, and we are of the opinion that they went down the shaft shortly after we fell asleep, and failed to find their way to the surface again. we are considerably alarmed." "i should think you would be!" replied the caretaker. "in the first place, the labyrinth mine bears the right name. there are old workings below which a stranger might follow for days without finding the way out." "then we'll have to organize a search for the boys," george suggested. "besides,"' continued canfield, "there are things going on in the mine which no one understands. i have long believed that there are people living there who have no right to take up such a residence." "i'm sorry you said anything to this detective about our being here," will said after this phase of the case had been discussed. "as a matter of fact," the caretaker replied, "i didn't intend to say anything to ventner about your being here, but in some way he received an intimation that you were about to take up the case and so pumped the whole story out of me." "perhaps he received his information from the new york attorney," suggested will. "i'm sure that he did not," answered the caretaker. "if the attorney had written to him in regard to the matter at all, he would have posted him so fully that when he cross-examined me such a proceeding would have been unnecessary." "has this man ventner visited the mine often?" asked george. "yes, quite frequently." "does he always go alone?" "yes, he always goes alone," was the answer. "once i accompanied him to the bottom of the shaft but there he suggested that we go in different directions, and did not seem to want me anywhere near him." "i don't like the looks of the fellow, and that's a fact!" exclaimed will. "he doesn't look good to me." after some discussion it was decided that the caretaker would accompany the two boys to the bottom of the shaft and direct them down gangways, which they could follow without fear of losing their way, and the illumination of which would be likely to be observed by anyone wandering about the blind chambers and passages of the mine. when they reached the bottom of the shaft, climbing down the ladders, as tommy and sandy had done some hours before, they gathered in a little group at the bottom while the caretaker gave them a few general instructions regarding the general outlines of the labyrinth of tunnels, chambers and cross passages which lay before them. "did any one come down after us?" asked will directly. "no one," was the reply. "why do you ask?" "because," will answered, "there's some one skulking off down that passage, and it looks to me like that bum detective!" chapter v the flooded mine "what makes you think it's ventner?" asked the caretaker. "did you see his face? i don't think he is here." "i didn't see his face," answered will, "but i saw the shape of his shoulders and the hang-dog look of him." "you're prejudiced against ventner," laughed canfield. "i admit it!" replied will. "he looks to me like snake in the grass. i don't think anything he could do would look good to me." "now," canfield said, "perhaps we'd better be mapping out a plan of campaign. there are three gangways leading in three different directions. we'll leave one of the lights burning at the shaft, then we'll each take a light and proceed into the interior, making as much noise as we conveniently can, and flashing the light into all the chambers and cross headings we come to." "how long are these gangways?" asked will. "somewhere near a half a mile straight ahead," was the answer. the caretaker went away swinging his electric searchlight, and will and george pushed forward in their respective passages. after proceeding a short distance, george heard will calling to him. "there's some one just ahead of me in the gangway!" will declared. "i think we ought to go together!" "do you think it's that bum detective?" asked george. "i certainly do!" "well, we can go together if you like," george said. "we can't cover quite as much ground in that way, but i guess we can accomplish more in the long run!" the boys had proceeded only a short distance when they heard canfield calling to them. a moment later they heard the caretaker's steps ringing on the hard floor of the gangway down which they were advancing. he came up to them, panting, in a moment. "there's something mighty queer about this mine," the caretaker declared. "it was punk dry only two days ago, and now there are four or five feet of water where the gangway i started to follow dips down. "and look there!" will exclaimed holding his light aloft and pointing, "you can see plenty of water ahead! i guess all the gangways are taking a washing, and the water seems to be rising, too!" "is there any way by which the mine could be intentionally flooded?" asked george. "there may be some one planning trouble for the owners." "there is only one way that i know of in which the mine could be flooded intentionally," replied the caretaker. "there is a large drain, of course, in what is known as the sump. considerable water runs off in that way, and the rest of the drippings are taken out by the pumps. if this sump drainage could become clogged, the mine, of course, would become flooded though not to such an extent, unless the pumps were kept constantly at work." "then i guess you'd better set the pumps going," will suggested. "we can't get into the mine in its present condition unless we swim." "haven't you got a boat?" asked george. "why, yes," replied the caretaker. "there's a couple of boats somewhere in the mine. the operators placed them here thinking they might come in handy at some future time, but i haven't any idea where they are now. still, i think they're not far away." "if you'll go and set the pumps in motion," will advised, "george and i'll look around for the boats. we may need them before the pumps get under motion the way the water is pouring in now." "i guess tommy and sandy don't come back because they're penned in by water," george suggested, as the boys began searching the vicinity of the shaft for the boats. "if they're anywhere within hearing distance, they ought to answer us when we called out, hadn't they?" asked will. "we haven't tried that yet," george answered. "suppose we let out a couple of yells!" to think in this case was to act, and the boys did let out a couple of yells which brought the caretaker running back from the shaft. the boys were listening for some answer to their shouts when he arrived, and so they paid little attention to his numerous questions. "there is no time to lose," canfield went on. "i'll go to the top at once and call an engineer and a couple of firemen. when you find the beat, take a trip down the main gangway here and stick your lights into all the cross-headings and chambers you see. but, above all," he continued, "don't fail to leave a light here at a shaft, and be careful that you never pass out of sight of it." canfield hastened away, climbing the ladders two rungs at a time, and soon disappeared into the little dot of light at the top. the two boys searched patiently for the boat for a long time, but did not succeed in discovering it. at last, will suggested that it might be in the mule stable and thither they went. the boat was there, in excellent condition, and the boys soon had it swinging to and fro on the surface of the water which now lay several feet deep in the main gangway. "jerusalem!" exclaimed george, taking the depth of the water with an oar, "if the water is four feet deep here, how deep must it be at the middle of the dip?" "about forty rods, i should think!" exaggerated will. the boys left a large searchlight at the shaft so situated that it looked straight down the passage they proposed following, and started away in the boat. the flashlights illuminated only a small portion of the underground place, but the boys could see some distance straight ahead. once they ceased rowing to listen, believing that they had heard calls from the darkness beyond. the sound was not repeated, and they were about to proceed when a sound which brought all their nervous energy into full swing reached their ears. it was a bumping of an oar or paddle against the side of a boat. the blow echoed through the cavern as sharply as a pistol shot might have done. there could be no mistake in the cause. "now who's in that other boat?" "somehow," george grumbled in a whisper, "we always have propositions like that put up to us! there's always a mystery in every trip we take! we found one on lake superior, and one in the florida everglades, and one at the top of the rocky mountains and one in the hudson bay wilderness." "yes, and we solved them, too!" grinned will. "and we're going to solve this one! you remember about my seeing some one sneaking in here just ahead of us, don't you?" "yes," was the answer. "you thought it was that bum detective." "i think so yet," replied will. "if it's the detective," asked george, "why didn't he give the alarm when he found that the mine was being flooded. he might at least have done that and saved the company a great deal of expense and trouble." "give it up," replied will. "i might ask you," he went on, "why he was rowing away into a flooded mine which is supposed to be deserted." "and i'd have to give you the answer you gave me," george declared. the boys could now hear the strokes of the oarsman who was in the lead quite regularly and distinctly. now and then he turned into crossheadings and chambers, as if to escape from their surveillance, but they kept steadily on after him, not taking into account the fact that they were leaving the light they had set at the shaft far out of view. "perhaps we ought to turn back now," george proposed, in a short time, seeing that they came no nearer to the boat in advance. "we left the main gangway some time ago, and we ought not to get too far away from it." will turned and looked back, facing only inky blackness. "we should have stuck to the main gangway," he said. "i don't even remember when we left it. is it very far back?" "some distance," answered george. "you see we followed this other boat without thinking what we were doing." "perhaps, if we continue to follow the other boat,' it will lead us somewhere. the fellow rowing must know something about the interior of the mine or he probably wouldn't be here!" "i've been listening for a minute or more, trying to catch sound of the fellow's oars," george went on, "but there's nothing doing. i guess he's led us into a blind chamber and slipped away!" "we don't, seem to be lacking for excitement," will suggested with a grin. "we've lost tommy and sandy, and the machinery of the mine has been interfered with and the lower levels axe filling with water! any old time we start out to do things, there's a general mix-up!" "aw, quit growling and listen a minute," suggested george. the boys listened only for a moment when the sound george had heard was repeated. it was the call of the wolf pack! chapter vi the beaver call "that's tommy!" exclaimed will. "i never knew that he belonged to the wolf patrol!" george observed. "he might give the call without belonging to the patrol!" urged will. the boys listened, but the sound was not repeated, although they called out the names of their chums and gave the beaver call repeatedly. "i guess it was a dream," george suggested. "then it was the most vivid dream i ever had!" will declared. they rowed about the chamber for some moments, searching for the source of the call, but to no purpose. "let's go back to the shaft," urged george. "i'm agreeable," answered will. "the only question now is whether we can find the shaft. the water is so deep that all branches of the mine look alike to me!" in passing out of the chamber into another passage the boys were obliged to stoop low in order to avoid what is called a dip. after passing under the dip so close to the ceiling that the boys were obliged to lie down in the boat in order to protect their heads, they came to a large chamber which seemed to be fairly dry save in the center, where there was a depression of considerable size. "nothing doing here!" will exclaimed as he flashed his searchlight around the place. "this chamber looks as if there hadn't been an ounce of coal mined here for a hundred years." "then let's get out," george proposed, "and make our way back to the shaft if possible. if we can't, we'll make noise enough to attract canfield's attention and let him come and lead us out." "here we go, then," cried will, giving the boat a great push toward the dip. "we can't get out any too fast." the boat came up against a solid projection of rock! "i don't seem to see any way out!" george exclaimed. "well, it's there somewhere!" declared will. "i see it now!" cried george. "it's under water!" "under water?" repeated will. "yes, under water!" answered george. "if we get out of this hole before the pumps get to working we'll have to swim!" will turned his searchlight on the dip and saw that it was now full clear to the down dropping roof. "i guess we'll have to swim," he agreed. "that black water doesn't look good to me," george exclaimed with a little shudder. "it seems to me that i can see snakes and alligators wiggling in it from here. looks worse to me than the swamps of the everglades! and there was a quart of snakes to every pint of water down there!" "but we got to swim just the same!" urged will. "in half an hour from now the air in this chamber will be unbreathable. there is no vent at all, now that the water fills the dip, and the coal gas is naturally seeping in all the time." "that's all right, too!" admitted george. "but i'm not going to jump into that black water until i have to. if a rope or something should twine around my legs while i was in there, i'd drop dead with fright! besides," he went on, "the chances are that canfield will get the pumps going before long now." the boys waited for a long half hour, during which time the water rose steadily. it seemed certain that the mine was about to be flooded throughout all the lower levels. "tommy and sandy may have bumped into just such a situation as this," will said, as he pushed the boat from side to side in the hope of coming upon some exit from the place. "serves 'em good and right!" exclaimed george. will chuckled to himself and held up a wet hand high up toward the roof of the chamber or passage. "there's a current of air here!" he said. "then we won't smother to dead!" george grunted. "and, look here," will continued, as the boat bumped into a pyramid of shale which had been thrown up to within a few inches of the roof, "some one has been building this hill of refuse and using it for a refuge!" "it does look that way," george agreed. "that shows that, at some time the water must have ascended to the very top of the wall. we may have to climb up there ourselves in order to keep from getting our clothing soaked in that ink down there!" the water rose higher and higher in the passage, and it seemed to the boys that by this time most of the lower gangways were entirely impassible. "it doesn't seem to me that the water in this blooming old mine could rise any faster if the whole mississippi river were turned into it!" cried george in a tone of disgust. "if canfield doesn't get his pumps going before long, he'll have a job here that'll take him all winter." "i presume he's doing the best he can," will argued. "for all we know, the boilers as well as the electric motors may have been tampered with. that would be just our luck!" "i wonder what's become of that bum detective?" asked george after a short silence. "we heard him rowing along in front of us one minute, and the next minute there wasn't a single sound to indicate that there was another boat in the mine." "as soon as i get out of this," will stated, "i'm going to make it my business to find out whether that detective is regularly employed on this case. he looks to me like a crook." it was dreary waiting there in the sealed-up chamber, and the boys found themselves dropping into long intervals of silence while they listened for the gurgle of the water which would indicate that the great pumps had been set in motion. during one of these intervals of silence they heard sounds which brought them to their feet in great excitement. almost unable to believe his ears, will turned to george with a question on his lips: "did you hear that?" he asked. "of course i did!" "i did, too, but i thought i must be dreaming." "no dream about that!" replied george. "that's the call of the beaver patrol!" "and that means that tommy and sandy are not far away!" "we heard the call of the wolf patrol not long ago," suggested george. "i wonder if this blooming old mine is chock full of boy scouts of assorted sizes. there can't be too many here to please me!" the boys returned the beaver call but no answer came. at times they thought they heard whispers coming from the dark reaches of the cavern, but they were not quite certain. "there may be real beavers in here for all we know!" suggested will. "that's all you know about it!" chuckled george. "beavers only operate in running water." "well, isn't that water out there running?" asked will. "no jokes now!" replied george. "i've got all i can endure now without standing for any of your alleged witticisms!" while the boys sat in the boat, occasionally moving it from side to side, a shaft of light appeared directly above the point where the shale had been heaped up. it moved swiftly about for an instant and then dropped out of view. it was a moment before either boy spoke. "that's some of tommy's foolishness!" will declared. george repeated the beaver call several times, but no answer came. "that's a searchlight, anyway!" insisted will. "and i don't believe these ginks in the mines have electric searchlights to lug around with them!" will unshipped an oar and struck the water with the flat of the blade several times, exerting his whole strength. "keep it up!" advised george. "that sounds exactly like a beaver's tail connecting with the surface of a stream!" "yes, keep it up!" cried a voice out of the darkness. "keep it up, and perhaps some beaver'll come along and build a dam to get you out of that mess you're in! you're always getting into trouble, you two!" "you've got your nerve with you!" exclaimed willy, half-angrily. "here you go out in the night and get lost, and we come out after you, and the mine gets flooded, and we get tied up between the solid wall and a bend in the passage, and then you blame us for getting into trouble!" "can you climb?" chuckled tommy, throwing the rays of his searchlight on the boat. "if you can just mount up on that pile of shale and work your way through the opening between the two levels. this might have been used as a sort of an air hole a few hundred years ago," he went on, "but i'll bet that not one out of a hundred of the miners of today know that there is an opening here!" leaving the boat, the boys mounted the pile of shale and were soon making their way up the rugged face of the shaft in the direction of the level, which ran along above the one now being flooded. "can you find your way out of this dump, now?" asked will as the boys stood with their chums at the end of the long passage. chapter vii a treacherous foe "there seems to be fewer twists and turns in this level than on the one below it," tommy explained, "and i guess we can find our way out readily enough. if we don't," he went on, "i shall be obliged to eat a ton or two of coal to keep from starving to death." "serves you right!" declared will. "you had no business getting up in the middle of the night and wandering off into the mine!" "what did you do?" demanded tommy. "we waited until morning, and then enlisted the services of the caretaker," replied will. "so far as i can remember, this is about the nine hundredth relief expedition we've been out on in search of you boys!" "seems to me," tommy chuckled, "that you're the lads that were in need of the relief expedition. we found you boxed up in a chamber in a boat." "but we wouldn't have been in any such mess if we hadn't started out to look you up!" george declared. "we should have been back before you got out of bed this morning, if some one hadn't cut our string," replied sandy. "we had a cinch on getting out, but some geezer led us a fool chase by cutting our cord and steering us around in a circle." "did you see any one?" asked will. "not a soul!" was the reply. "but there's some one in here, just the same. we heard the call of the wolf patrol a long time ago and we've heard it several times since." "what do you mean by some one cutting your string?" asked george. "why," replied sandy, "we tied the loose end of a ball of twine to one of the shaft timbers and unwound the ball as we moved along, expecting to follow it back when we wanted to get out. "how do you know some one cut it?" asked will. "perhaps you broke it," george suggested. sandy took a piece of the cord from his pocket and passed it over to george with a shy chuckle. "see if you can break that!" he said. george tried his best to break the string, but it remained firm under all his strength. the boys now fell into a discussion of the ways and means of getting out of the mine. "i believe," sandy exclaimed, "that if we follow the current of air which the rising water is forcing out of this old shaft, we will come to the entrance. as you all know, a current of air takes the shortest way to any given point, and this one ought to blow straight toward the shaft." "great head, that, little boy!" laughed tommy. after proceeding some distance the steady thud, thud of the pumping machinery was heard, and the boys understood that the efforts of the caretaker were at last bringing results. the sounds also aided them in direction, and in a short time they stood at the shaft on the second level. when they came out to the timber work, will, who was in the lead, motioned to the others to remain in the background. "what's doing now?" whispered sandy. "there's a man working on the ladders," explained will in a low whisper. "i can't see him yet, but i can hear the sound of a saw." "he may be cutting the rungs," suggested tommy. "that's the notion i had," replied will. "suppose we all get around behind the air shaft and wait until we can find out what he is up to. it may be that bum detective, for all we know." "what would he be doing there?" questioned sandy. "sawing the rungs!" whispered will. "he wouldn't cut them down, of course, but he might saw them so that they would break under our weight and give us a drop of a couple of hundred feet." "it doesn't seem as if any human being would do a thing like that!" cried george. "it would be a wicked thing to do!" while the boys whispered together, the sound of sawing continued. the man engaged at the task was evidently unfamiliar with such work, for they heard him puffing and blowing as the saw cut through the wood. "he's cutting the rungs, all right!" will said in a moment. "and that cuts off our escape until the cables can be put in motion and the cages started. i wish i had him by the neck!" "we'll get him by the neck, all right, before many days," sandy cut in, "if we can only get a sight of him so as to be sure of his identity." presently the man ceased working, and they heard him ascending the ladders, step by step. in a moment the saw which he had been using dropped from his hands and clattered to the bottom of the shaft. then they heard him springing swiftly forward, and directly they knew that he had reached the top. the boys all looked disgusted. "and we never caught sight of him!" exclaimed tommy. will now walked around to the front of the shaft and looked down. the saw which had been used lay shining on the lower level. "i'm going down after that!" he said in a moment. "yes, you are!" whispered tommy. "i got to have it!" insisted will. "well, go on and get it, then," laughed sandy. "you've got to show me!" "i don't think he cut the rungs between this level and the next one," george interposed. "it may be safe to use the lower ladders." "i can soon find out!" will declared. the cutting had been done between the second level and the top. the ladders below seemed perfectly safe. after testing them thoroughly, will trusted himself on one of the rungs and let himself down slowly, bearing as much weight as was possible on the standards. he was at the bottom in a moment, and in another moment stood by the side of his chums with the saw in his hand. "i don't think that's so very much!" tommy exclaimed. "right here, then," will explained, "is where you get your little sherlock holmes lesson! this is a new saw, as you all see. it probably never was used before. now the man who did the cutting bought this at some nearby store. don't you see what it means?" "that's a fact!" cried tommy. "we can find out who bought the saw, and so discover the gink who tried to commit murder by sawing the ladders." "and look here," will went on, "do you see these threads hanging to the teeth of the saw? do you see the color?" "blue!" replied the boys in a breath. "that's right, blue. now, what sort of a suit did the detective wear this morning? it was blue, wasn't it?" "sure it was!" replied george. "a blue serge! i noticed it particularly because it wasn't much of a fit." "well, these are blue serge threads!" commented will. "that's right, too," admitted sandy. while the boys still stood at the second level they heard some one moving down from the top. will rushed around to the ladder and looked up. he could not see the face of the man who was climbing down, but he could see that he did not wear a blue serge suit. in a moment he called out to him, asking some trivial question regarding the action of the pumps. when the man looked down he saw that it was canfield. the caretaker seemed surprised at finding the boys at the second level. he kept on descending. "wait!" will called. "stop where you are!" "but i've got to find out what's the matter with the machinery at the bottom," the caretaker called out. "there's something wrong there!" "then you'd better take long steps," replied will, "for if you put any weight on those rungs, you're likely to land at the bottom of the shaft. the rungs have been cut!" "i can't believe that!" replied canfield. "suppose you look and see!" the caretaker advanced cautiously downward until he came to where a fine line of sawdust lay on one of the rungs. "do you know who did this?" he asked. "we think we do," replied will, "but this isn't any time for long stories. the first thing for us to do is to get back into the breaker and cook tommy and sandy three or four breakfasts apiece!" "so you found them, did you?" asked canfield. "no; we found them," shouted tommy. "well, how're you going to get out?" asked the caretaker. "get a rope," directed will, "and throw it over the sound rung lowest down, and we'll climb up until we can trust our weight on the ladder." this plan was followed, and in a short time the boys all stood, hungry and tired, in their room in the breaker. tommy made an instantaneous dive for the provisions which had been brought in the night before. "nice old time we've had!" he exclaimed, with his mouth full-of pork and beans. "i guess we're some boy scouts after all!" "i'm going to tie you up tonight!" will declared. while the boys talked and ate the caretaker darted to the door leading to the passage which ended at the shaft. he returned in a moment looking both angry and frightened. "the pumps have, stopped!" he said. "the line will probably be flooded before tomorrow morning. the very devil seems to have taken full charge here today. i never saw anything like it!" "there are boys in the mine who will be drowned!" exclaimed tommy. "i'm not so sure of that," answered canfield. "it was only a suggestion on my part that the boys we are in search of have taken refuge under ground. i think i must have been mistaken!" "do you know, whether these breaker boys belonged to the boy scouts or not?" asked will. "did you ever see any medals or badges on their clothing which told of boy scout experiences?" "sure they belong to the boy scouts!" declared the caretaker, "and that is the very reason why i sent for boy scouts to help find them." "what patrol did they belong to?" asked will. "if you had heard them howling like wolves around the breaker night after night," was the reply, "you wouldn't ask what patrol they belonged to!" "then they are in the mine!" shouted tommy. we all heard the call of the pack, but the funny thing is that they wouldn't show themselves. chapter viii "they went up in the air" "there's something funny about those boys!" exclaimed canfield. "they seemed to be merry-hearted fellows, just a little bit full of mischief, but for some reason they never mixed with the others much." "where did they come from when they came here?" asked will. "the information in the letters i received from the attorney in charge of the case is that they came here from new york, not directly but by some roundabout way." "did this attorney ever inform you why he wanted the boys found?" asked tommy. "are we all working in the dark?" "he never told me why he wanted the boys found. for all i know, they may be wanted for some crime, or they may be heirs to an immense property. my instructions are to find them. that's all!" "where did these boys lodge?" asked will. "they didn't have any regular room," was the reply. "they slept in the breaker whenever the watchman would permit them to do so, and when he wouldn't, they threw stones at him and slept in the railroad yard somewhere. but the strangest part of the whole business is the way they disappeared from sight." "you didn't tell us about that!" exclaimed sandy. "i meant to," the caretaker answered. "the last seen of them here they were at work on the breaker. it was somewhere near the middle of the afternoon, and the cracker boss had been particularly ugly. the two boys were often caught whispering together, and more than once the cracker boss had launched such trifles as half pound block of shale at them. i happened to be on the outside just about that time." "the boys didn't go up in the air, did they?" asked sandy with a chuckle. "they haven't got wings, have they?" "to all intents and purposes, they went up into the air!" answered the caretaker. "one moment they were on the breaker sorting slate and stuff of that kind out of the stream of coal which was pouring down upon them, and the next moment they were nowhere in sight!" "had any strangers been seen talking with them?" "now you come to a point that i should have mentioned before!" replied the caretaker. "two days before they left a strange boy came to the mine and went to work on the breaker. he was an unusually well-mannered, well-dressed young fellow, and so the breaker boys called him a dude. he resented this, of course, and there was a fight at the first quitting time. these two boys, jimmie, and dick, stood by the new lad, and gave three or four of the tough little chaps who work on the breaker a good beating up." "now we've got hold of something!" exclaimed will. "were these three boys together much after that?" "no," was the reply. "the new boy thanked jimmie and dick for helping him through his scrape, and that was about all. they might have talked together for five minutes that night, but they were never seen in each other's company again so far as i know." "how long did this new boy stay here?" asked george. "he quit the next day." "he didn't go up in a pillar of fire, did he?" grinned sandy. "no, he walked up to the office and asked if he could get his pay for the time he had worked. the boss told him he'd have to wait until saturday night, and he turned up his nose and walked out." "and where did he go?" asked george. "he said he was going down the river in a boat," answered the caretaker. "he bought an old boat, stocked it with quite a supply of provisions, and started on his way. the next day the boat was found bottom side up on a bar, and the lad's hat lay on the bank not far away." "do you think he was drowned?" asked sandy. "it would seem so." "drowned nothing!" exclaimed tommy. "he sneaked those provisions into the mine under cover of the darkness and the three little rascals are feeding on them yet. you can see the end of that without a telescope!" "now, smarty!" exclaimed george. "you've told us where the boys went, and where the provisions landed, and all that, now tell us why these kids hid themselves in the mine. and while you are about it, you may as well tell why they gave the wolf call and refused to reply." "this story," replied tommy with a grin, "is not a novelette, complete in one number. it's a serial story, and will be continued in our next issue. what did you say about the pumps stopping, canfield?" "they've stopped, all right!" the caretaker replied. "are you going to let the ginks flood the mine?" asked sandy. "while i was out a few moments ago," canfield explained, "i notified one of the clerks in the company's office to send up a gang of men to repair the machinery. they ought to be here by this time." "how long will it take to repair the pump?" asked tommy. "it may take an hour and it may take twenty-four. "in the meantime," tommy continued, "do you think you could send one of the county officers out to round up this bum detective?" "you mean that you want him watched?" asked canfield. "sure!" answered tommy. "he sawed the rungs in the shaft, didn't he? he could get ten years for that!" "all right," replied canfield. "i'll send word out and have him arrested if you are positive that he is the man that did the cutting." "we are positive that he's the man," replied will, "but it'll spoil everything if you have him arrested. we want to give him a free hand for a time, and see what he will do. he's a crook, and he's bound to show it! and another thing," the boy went on, "we don't want anyone to know that he is under suspicion. we just want him watched." "you're handling the case," smiled canfield, "and i'll take any steps you advise. i can't tell you how sorry i am that i brought the detective in here this morning!" "well," will said, "we put up a bluff about getting out of town and perhaps we can make that stick. we can take a train out and come back in on a lonely freight, and get into the mine without his knowing anything about it. the mine is the best place to work from, anyway!" "that's why i wanted to know how soon the mine could be pumped out!" stated tommy. "i don't care about wading around in a mess of water that's blacker than a stack of black cats." "i think i can have the mine fairly dry by the time you boys get out of town and back again!" laughed canfield. "well," tommy said, "then you'd better got a couple of dry-goods boxes and fill them full of good things to eat, and drop 'em down to the first level. perhaps you know of a cozy little chamber there where we can set up housekeeping." "i know just the place," said the caretaker. "to the left of the old tool house there's a room where odd articles of every description have been stored for any number of years. the blacksmith and the fire-boss used to go there to smoke and tell stores, if i remember right." "does anyone ever go there now?" asked will. "not that i know of," was the reply. "then we'll drop down there some time towards morning," will decided. "and in the meantime," he added, with a wink at his chums, "we'll be looking for a boy tramp out in the railroad yards." "what do you mean by that"' asked the caretaker. "oh, i've just got an idea," replied will, "that there's a kid hanging around this part of the country whom we ought to interview." "but i don't understand." "you wait until we get hold of him, and you'll understand all right!" laughed will. "we just need that boy!" "but how do you know there is such a boy?" urged the caretaker. "he gets it out of a dream book!" tommy chuckled. "do you mean to say that there is some go-between the boys who may or may not be in the mine and some persons outside who are interested in them?" asked the caretaker. "i didn't say anything of the kind!" replied will. "there are times," tommy explained to canfield, "when the gift of frank speech is taken away from will, so you mustn't blame him for not answering. he'll tell you all about it when the time comes." the caretaker went away with a puzzled look on his honest face. chapter ix who discovered the leak? "you've got to explanation me," george laughed as the caretaker left the room, and the boys began picking up their clothing, preparatory to the alleged journey. "i can't understand what you mean by saying that you'll watch out for a boy tramp in the railroad yards." "it's a sure thing, isn't it?" will asked, "that the boys we are in search of are in the mine? we don't know what they're in there for. they may be hiding there because of some fool notion they have in their heads, or they may have been sent here for some definite purpose." "you bet they've been sent here for some definite purpose," george replied. "they never came here to work on the breaker without having some well-defined motive. boys answering to their description don't accept such jobs as they accepted here!" "well, the boys are in the mine," will continued. "as stated, we don't know what they're there for, but we know they're there. now, this third boy comes to the mine and works just long enough to get in touch with the other two. then he disappears." "buys a lot of provisions and goes down the river to leave his hat on the bank!" laughed tommy. "i guess that was a pretty poor imitation of a suicide or a drowning accident, either!" "but this boy didn't get to be intimate with the two breaker boys," contended george. "he talked with them about two minutes after the fight, according to canfield, but paid no further attention to them after that. if he had any secret understanding with them, he must have done a whole lot of talking in a mighty short space of time." "the right kind of a boy can say a good deal in a minute and half!" laughed tommy. "but suppose we let will go on and explanation us about that boy tramp in the railroad yards. i think i know what he's getting at, but i'm not quite certain. go on, will, it's up to you." "in order to make the connection," laughed will. "i will state for the third time that we know that the boys are in the mine. it may also be well to state, once more, that we are reasonably certain that this other boy came to the mine for the specific purpose of communicating with the other two. now this boy didn't drop into the river. he dropped the provisions he bought for the boat into the coal mine, and left them there for the consumption of the two boys inside. that's reasonable, isn't?" "fine deduction, as sherlock holmes would say to watson!" laughed george. "but this third boy," will went on, "doesn't go into the mine. he stays outside to serve as a means of communication between the boys who are hiding in the mine and some interested person or persons on the outside. that's perfectly clear, isn't it? "that'll do very well for a theory," replied george. "i'll go you a plate of cookies," argued sandy, "that will is right, and that this third boy is hanging around taking messages from the two boys in the mine and also to the two boys in the mine." "didn't i say it was all right for a theory?" chuckled george. "now, the point is this," will continued. "what are those boys in the mine for? what do they want there? why didn't they answer our boy scout challenge when we replied to their call of the pack?" "if you don't ask so many questions, you won't get so many negative answers," sandy advised. "we're here to find the boys, and i don't see that it makes any difference to us what they're in there or not." "but we've found the boys now," contended tommy. "we haven't got our hands on them yet, of course, but we know they're in there, and we know it's only a question of time when we get hold of them." "well," will insisted, "i'm going to find a motive before i quit the case. i'm going to know who sent those boys here, and all about it, before i make any report to mr. horton." "go as far as you like," laughed tommy. "my bump of curiosity is growing half an inch a day, and will continue to spread out until i find out exactly what those boys are doing burrowing in a deserted mine." "now, we'll get back to the point we started from," will explained. "this boy who is undoubtedly doing duty outside the mine in the interests of the persons who sent the two boys in, furnishes the clue to the whole situation! when we find him, and find out what he's up to, and trace any communications he may make back to their original source, we'll have the whole case tied up tight!" "that's right!" declared tommy. "we'll have the case tied up tight if we succeed in getting hold of this third boy." "oh, go on!" laughed sandy. "we'll be picking third boys and fourth boys and fifth boys out of the air the next thing you know. we never went away on a boy scout expedition yet that we didn't find all manner of kids hanging around on purpose to be discovered. we found them on old superior; and in the everglades; and on the great continental divide; and up in the hudson bay country, we began to think we had stumbled on the center of population so far as boy scouts were concerned!" "there's just one thing that's likely to make us trouble," will resumed. "and that is the fact that canfield very foolishly slopped over to ventner when explaining the purpose of our visit here. that bum detective knows now that we're here to search the mine. of course he might have received, as canfield says, most of his information from outside sources, but the caretaker should have thrown him off the track instead of telling him exactly what our mission here was." "but ventner came here to search for the boys himself!" george broke in. "at least, he says that he did." "there's a mystery about the whole matter," sandy declared, "and i'd like to help clear it up from beginning to end!" "we're likely to have a chance!" laughed tommy. "what are we going to do all the afternoon?" george asked. "wander around town," smiled will, "and find out about the evening train, and ask fool questions about the pumps and the mine, and laugh at the idea of anybody living in there. that'll give ventner the idea that we're going for good, i reckon. he's a pretty bum skate to pose as a detective!" "i'll tell you what i'm going to do most of the afternoon!" tommy declared. "i'm going to the hay! i never felt so bunged up for want of sleep in my innocent life." "haven't you forgotten something?" asked sandy. "sure!" shouted tommy. "i'm forgetting to eat!" "and you're forgetting something else!" insisted sandy. "nix on the forget!" declared tommy. "when i forget my eatings and sleepings, the world will come to an end!" "you forgot to read a chapter in your dream book!" said sandy. "never you mind that dream book," tommy replied. "whenever you want to find the answer to any puzzle, you look in that dream book!" after eating another hearty meal the boys, having already packed their wardrobes, locked the door of their room and addressed themselves to slumber. they were awakened about five o'clock by a loud knocking on the door, and presently they heard the voice of canfield calling to them. "wake up, boys!" he cried. "i have good news for you!" "all right, let her go!" shouted tommy. "the pumps are working, and the water is lowering in the mine!" "that's nice!" laughed sandy. "and we've found out what caused the sudden flooding," the caretaker went on. "it seems that a partition, or wall, between the labyrinth and the mixer mine unaccountably gave way. the mixer mine has been flooded for a long time and, as it lies above the level of the labyrinth, the water naturally flowed into our mine as soon as the wall was down." "but what caused the partition to fall?" asked will, opening the door for the admission of the caretaker. "no one knows!" was the answer. "if you look about a little," tommy suggested, "i think you'll find traces of dynamite. who discovered the break in the dividing wall?" "a gang under the leadership of ventner, the detective!" was the reply. the caretaker was very much surprised and not a little annoyed at the effect his answer had upon the four boys. "i don't see anything humorous about that!" he said as the lads threw themselves down on the bunks and roared with laughter. "it looks funny to me!" tommy replied. "it we had never showed up here, the mine wouldn't have been flooded. as soon as we start away or promise to leave the district, which amounts to the same thing, this cheap skate of a detective finds the break, and all is well again!" "why, you don't think that he had anything to do with the trouble at the mine, do you?" questioned the caretaker. "oh, of course not!" replied sandy. "ventner had nothing to do with cutting the ladder. that fellow will land in state's prison if he keeps on trying to murder boys by sawing ladder rungs!" "i had forgotten that,' said canfield. "well, don't forget that this man ventner is playing the chief villain's role in this drama!" tommy advised. "and another thing you mustn't forget," the boy continued, "is that you're not to say a word to him that will inform him that he is suspected." "i think i can remember that!" replied the caretaker. the boys prepared a hasty supper and then, suit cases in hand, started for the little railway station. there they inquired about the arrival and departure of trains, bought tickets, and made themselves as conspicuous as possible about the depot. "keep your eye out for the third boy," george chuckled, as the lads walked up and down the platform. "don't get excited about the third boy," will replied. "we'll find him when the right time comes!" "there's ventner!" exclaimed tommy as the detective came rushing down the platform. "of course the good, kind gentleman would want to bid us farewell!" "i'd like to crack him over the coco!" exclaimed sandy. "i'll bet he's got some kind of a fake story to tell," suggested will. "he looks like a man who had been working his imagination overtime!" "news of the two boys!" shouted the detective as he came up smiling. chapter x the boy in the "empty" "didn't i tell you," whispered will, "that he is there with a product of his imagination? if you leave it to him, the two boys we're in search of are somewhere on the pacific slope!" "he must think we're a lot of suckers to take in any story he'll tell!" whispered tommy. "a person that couldn't get next to his game ought to be locked up in the foolish house!" "i've just heard from a railway brakeman," ventner said, rushing up to the boys with an air of importance, "that the two lads you are in search of were seen leaving a box car at a little station in ohio. i don't just recall the name of the station now, but i can find it by looking on the map! it seems the lads left here on the night following their departure from the breaker, and stole their passage to this little town i'm telling you about." "good thing you came to the depot," declared will. "we should have been out of town in ten minutes more." "where is this town?" asked george, thinking it best to show great interest in the statement made by the detective. "it's a little place on the lake erie & western road!" was the answer. the detective took a railroad folder from his pocket and consulted a map. it seemed to take him a long time to decide upon a place, but he finally spread the map out against the wall of the station and laid his finger on a point on the lake erie & western railroad. "nankin is the name of the place. strange i should have forgotten the name of the place. they were put out of the car at nankin, and are believed to have started down the railroad right of way on foot." "but you said they were seen leaving the car at napkin!" tommy cut in. "now you say they were put out of the car!" "well, they were chased out of the car, and that covers both statements," replied the detective somewhat nervously. "thank you very much for the information!" will exclaimed as the train the boys were to take came rolling into the station. "the pointer is undoubtedly a good one, and we'll take a look at the country about nankin." there was a crossing not more than six miles from the station where the boys had taken the train and they were all ready to jump when the engineer slowed down and whistled his note of warning. it was quite dark, although stars were showing in a sky plentifully scattered over with clouds and, as the boys dropped down out of the illumination of the windows as soon as they struck the ground, they were not seen to leave the train by any of the passengers. in a moment the train rushed on, leaving the four standing on the roadbed looking disconsolately in the direction of the town. "now for a good long hike!" exclaimed tommy. "it's for your own good!" laughed sandy. "i can always tell when something is for my own good," tommy contended. "you don't look it!" chuckled sandy. "when anything's for my own good," the boy continued, "it's always disagreeable! it makes me think of a story i read once where the man complained that everything he ever wanted in this world was either expensive, indigestible or immoral." "well, get on the hike!" laughed george. "you can stand here and moralize till the cows come home, and it won't move you half an inch in the direction of the mine!" "and look here," will exclaimed as the boys started up the grade, "when we get within sight of the lights of the station, we must scatter and keep our traps closed! we can all make for the mine by different routes. ventner thinks we are out of town now, and the chances are that he'll be plugging around trying to accomplish some purpose known only to himself. for my part i don't believe he is employed on the same case we are! he's working for some outside parties!" "that's the way it strikes me!" george agreed. "if the detective had been honestly trying to assist us, the mine wouldn't have been flooded, the pumps wouldn't have broken down, and the electric motors would have been found in excellent working order." "did you notice the suit he had on when he stood talking with us at the station?" asked will. "that was a blue serge suit, wasn't it?" "it surely was!" tommy declared, quick to catch the point. "and there was a tear down the front of it which looked as if it had been made by the scraping of a saw! i guess if you'll inspect the shreds we found on the saw with the breaks in that coat front you'll find where the saw got in its work, all right!" "and there was a cut on his, hand, too!" sandy observed. "looked like he had bounced the saw off one of the rungs on top of a finger." "oh, he's a clever little boy all right!" tommy cut in. "but he forgot to leave his brass band at home when he went out to cut into that ladder! if he does all his work the way he did that job, he'll be sitting in some nice, quiet state's prison before he's six months older." when the boys came within a quarter of a mile of the station lights, they parted, will and george turning off from the right of way and sandy and tommy keeping on for half a dozen rods. when the four boys were finally clear of the tracks they were walking perhaps twenty rods apart, and at right angles with the right of way. "now, as we approach the mine," will cautioned his companion, "keep your eye out for ventner and this third boy. they are both likely to be chasing around in the darkness." the route to the mine, taken by tommy and his chum crossed a network of tracks, led up to the weigh-house and so on into the breaker. as they came to a line of empty cars standing on a spur they heard a movement in one of the empties and crouched down to listen. "there's some one in there!" declared tommy. "some old bum, probably!" this from sandy who had recently bumped his shins on a pile of ties and was not in a very pleasant humor. "it may be the boy we're looking for!" urged tommy. sandy sat down on the end of a tie and rubbed his bruised shin vigorously, muttering and protesting, against railroad yards in general and this one in particular as he did so. tommy made his way under the empty and sat listening, his ear almost against the bottom of the car. presently he heard a movement above and then it seemed to him that something of considerable weight was being dragged across the floor. this was followed in a moment by a slight groan, and then a shadowy figure leaped from the open side door and started away in the darkness. now sandy had been warned to hang onto the third boy like grim death if he caught sight of him. he saw this figure bounce out of the car and start, away. therefore, he promptly reached out a foot and tripped the unknown to the ground. he fell with a grunt of anger and pain and lay rolling on the cinders which lined the roadbed for a moment without speaking. in the meantime, tommy had crawled out from under the car and stood ready to seize any second person who might make his appearance. almost immediately a second body came bouncing out of the empty. instead of starting away on a run, however, the second person stopped where sandy stood beside the wiggling figure and looked down upon it. "hand him one!" he said in a boy's voice. "who is it?" asked sandy. "don't know!" was the reply. "what was he doing to you?" "he was trying to rob me!" "i don't think a man would get rich, robbing people who ride in empties!" laughed sandy. "i shouldn't think their bank rolls would make much of a hit with a bold, bad highwayman!" "there's men riding the rods," was the reply, "who would kill a boy for a dime! if i wasn't opposed to cruelty to animals, i'd give this fellow a beating up right now. he tried to drag me from the car by the leg and nearly broke my ankle!" "i heard him dragging you across the floor!" tommy said, coming up to where the two stood. "can you see who it is?" he added. "he's just a tramp!" the other replied. "i saw him sneaking around the empties just before dark." "why were you sleeping in an empty?" asked sandy. "because i like plenty of fresh air!" replied the boy with a chuckle. while the boys talked the tramp arose and sneaked away, limping over the ties as if tickled to death to get out of the way of the three youngsters. as he disappeared in the darkness tommy turned to the boy who had dropped out of the car to ask him a question. the boy was nowhere to be seen. "now we've gone and done it!" cried sandy. "i guess we have!" agreed tommy. "we've let the third boy get away from us! and we couldn't have done a worse thing!" he went on, "because the boys in the mine will know that we are still in this vicinity!" while the boys stood blaming themselves the sharp call of the wolf pack came to them. chapter xi a knock at the door when will and george came to the back of the weigh-house they heard some one moving about at the front. "that's probably the caretaker, taking his last look for the night," suggested will. "he pokes around all the outbuildings every night before he goes to bed. at least, he is supposed to." "but this fellow hasn't got any lantern," urged george. "the plot deepens!" chuckled will. "can you crawl around there and see who it is," asked george, "or shall i go? it may be a thief, or it may be ventner, or it may be this boy we're looking for. anyway, we want to know who it is!" "i'll go!" will suggested, "and don't you make any racket if you hear something doing there. the one thing to do at this time is to keep our presence here a profound secret." will moved cautiously around the angle of the weigh-house just in time to see a figure leaving the side of the building and moving toward the breaker. there was a little side door in the breaker not far from the weigh-house, and it was toward this that the prowler was making his way. half way to the little house the fellow stumbled over some obstruction in his path and fell sprawling to the ground. he arose with an impatient oath and moved on again, but not before the watcher had recognized both the figure and the voice. will, turned back to where george stood. "that's ventner," he said. "are you sure?" "dead sure!" there was a short silence. "what can we do now?" "i don't know of anything we can do, unless it is to watch the rascal and see where he goes," answered the other. "the chances are that he's trying to get into the mine!" "that shows the fellow is a crook!" will contended. "he has full permission to enter the mine at any time he sees fit." "of course, he's a crook!" agreed george. "what would he be sneaking around here in the night for, if he wasn't engaged in some underhand game? you just wait until we get into the mine," the boy continued, "and we'll give him a ghost scare that'll hold him for a while." as ventner approached the little side door leading into the breaker, a light flashed in the window of the room which the boys had occupied, and directly canfield's voice was heard asking: "who's there?" "now if he's on the square, he'll answer!" whispered will. there was no reply whatever, and in a moment the caretaker called again, this time rather peremptorily: "what are you prowling about the yard for?" the detective dropped to his knees and began crawling away. "if i see you around here again," the caretaker shouted in a braver tone now that the intruder was taking his departure, "i'll do some shooting!" evidently giving over the attempt to enter the mine at that time, the detective arose to his feet as soon as he gained the shelter of the weigh-house, and walked away, passing as he did so, within a few feet of where the boys were standing. "that settles that bum detective, so far as we are concerned!" will said to his chum, in a whisper. "we knew before that he was playing a rotten game on us, but we didn't know that, his plans included such surreptitious visits to the mine." after making sure that the detective was not within sight or sound, will and george tapped softly at the little door and were admitted by the caretaker. five minutes later they were joined by tommy and sandy. "were you boys out there a few moments ago?" asked canfield. "nix!" replied george. "that was ventner. we saw him from the weigh-house. he was trying to sneak his way into the mine!" "but he has full permission to enter at any time he sees fit!" urged the caretaker. "it doesn't seem as if he would attempt to steal his way in during the night. you must be mistaken!" "yes, and perhaps we were mistaken about the sawing of the ladder, too!" tommy broke in. "yes, we may all be mistaken about that." "not so you could notice it!" declared sandy. "if you look at the thief's coat, you'll see that he didn't do all the sawing on the rungs of the ladder. we've got him too dead to skin!" without any lights being shown on the surface, the boys were conducted down the ladder to the first level. there they found a room very cozily furnished, indeed. a lounge from the office, a couple of good sized cupboards, and a large table had been brought down, together with a serviceable rug and numerous chairs, and the apartment presented an unexpectedly homelike appearance. the current was on, and two electric lamps made the room as light as day. the cooking was to be done over electric coils so that the presence of the boys would not be disclosed by smoke. one of the ventilating pipes which supplied the offices in the vicinity of the shaft with fresh air passed through the room, so there was no lack of ozone. "have we got plenty of eatings?" asked tommy. "plenty!" was the reply. "i have arranged for fresh meat, milk and vegetables to be brought in every evening." "talk about your bull-headed, obstinate men!" exclaimed tommy, as the caretaker finally took his departure. "that fellow takes the cake! he knows very well that we caught vintner in the act of sawing on the ladder, and he knows, too, that we heard wolf calls while we were in the mine. still he shakes his head and says that he don't know about the boys being there, and don't know about that bum detective being crooked. if you could get a saw and operate on his head, you'd find it solid bone!" "you'll feel better after you get supper!" sandy declared. "this isn't any grouch!" insisted tommy. "this is the true story of that man's life! if i had a dollar for every time he doesn't know anything, i'd be the richest boy in the world!" "are you thinking of going down the mine tonight?" asked george, with a wink at will. "we might try another midnight excursion." "if you kids go into the mine tonight," declared will, "i'll send you both back to chicago on the first train!" "aw, how are you going to find these boys if you don't go into the mine?" demanded tommy. "i suppose you'll want us to wait till daylight when the owners will be looking around to see if any damage was done by the inundation. the best time is at night!" "look here," will argued, "we've got to do more than lay hands on the boys! we've got to find out why they are hiding in the mine." "that's the correct word," agreed george. "hiding is the word that expresses the situation exactly!" "there is no doubt," will continued, "that the boys were sent here by some one for some specific purpose. they are hiding in the mine with a well-defined motive. i have an idea that we might be able to find them in twenty-four hours, but what is more important, is to find out what they are up to." "well, in order to get the whole story, we'll have to pretend that we are looking for them and can't find them!" george said. "that's right!" laughed tommy. "give them plenty of rope and they'll hang themselves. we may as well have the whole story while we're at it." before preparing their beds for the night, the boys paid a visit to the shaft and made their way down to the rungs which had been cut. they found that they had been replaced by new ones. there was still water in the lower levels of the mine, but it was slowly disappearing through the sump, and the indications were that it would be dry by morning. the boys listened intently for some evidence of occupancy as they moved up and down the shaft, but all was still. "this would be a good place to tell a ghost story," tommy chuckled as they moved back to their room on the first level. "there's about a million stories now, entitled "the ghost of the mine!" declared sandy. "perhaps however," he went on, "one more wouldn't hurt." "if i see a ghost tonight," declared tommy, "it'll be in my dreams!" sandy and tommy were sound asleep on their cots as soon as supper was over, and will and george were getting ready to retire when the soft patter of a light footstep sounded in the vicinity of the shaft. "rats must be thick in the mine!" suggested george. "rats nothing!" declared will. "those two youngsters are prowling about in order to see what we are up to!" as he spoke the boy arose, turned off the electric light and stepped out into the passage. chapter xii a midnight robber there was a quick scamper of feet as will stepped out, then silence! "where did he go?" asked george, joining big chum on the outside. "down the ladder!" replied will. "why don't we go and see where he went?" "that might be a good idea," will replied. "do you think it's safe for us to try to navigate that shaft in the dark?" "we can stick to the ladders, can't we?" asked george. "we ought to find out where the kids hang out," will argued. "i'd like to get my hands on one of them!" "i don't think we're likely to do that tonight," george answered. "it seems to me that about the only way we can catch those fellows is to set a bear trap. they seem to be rather slippery." will, clad only in pajamas and slippers, moved toward the shaft and looked down. it was dark and still below, and he turned back with a little shudder. the situation was not at all to his liking. "well, are you going down?" asked george. "sure, i'm going down!" will answered. "i'm only waiting to get up my nerve! it looks pretty dreary down there. if we could use a light i wouldn't mind, but it's pretty creepy going down that hole in the darkness." "then suppose we wait until morning," suggested george. will leaned against the shaft timbers and laughed. "it'll be just as dark in here in the morning, as it is now!" he said. "i think we'd better go on down tonight and see if we can locate the fellows." the two boys passed swiftly down the ladder, paused a moment at the second level, and then passed on to the third. the gangways leading out from the shaft were reasonably dry now. lower down the dip they were still under a few inches of water. "i don't see how we're going to discover anybody down in this blooming old well!" george grumbled. "there might be a regiment of state troops here an we wouldn't be able to see a single soldier!" "we can't show a light, for all that!" declared will. "we've just got to wait and see if they won't be kind enough to show a light." "you guessed it," chuckled george, whispering softly in his chum's ear, "there's a glimmer of light, now!" "i see it!" will replied. the boys left the ladder and moved out into the center gangway. they could see a light flickering some distance in advance, and had no difficulty in following it. "that's an electric torch!" will commented. "perhaps, if we follow along, we'll be able to track them to their nest," george suggested, "and, still, i don't care about getting very far away from the shaft. we might get lost in these crooked passages." "yes," replied will. "some one might head us off, too. i don't care about being held up here in pajamas." the mine was damp and cold, and a wind was sweeping up the passage toward the shaft. the boys shivered as they walked, yet kept resolutely on until the light they were following left the main gangway and disappeared in a cross heading. "that means 'good-night' for me," whispered will, "for i'm not going to get out beyond the reach of the rails. i guess we'll have to go back and invent some other means of trapping those foxy boys." as will spoke the light reappeared and moved on down the gangway again. then, for the first time, the boys saw a figure outlined against the illumination. will caught his chum by the arm excitedly. "that isn't one of the boys at all!" he exclaimed. "well, how large a population do you think this mine has!" demanded george. "if it isn't one of the boys, who is it?" "that bum detective!" answered will. "so he got in here at last, did he?" chuckled george. "well, it's up to us to find out what he's doing in here!" "do you think that is the gink who was prowling around our room?" asked will. "if he is, then our little trip in the country doesn't count for much!"' "the fellow who visited us," george argued, "was light and quick on his feet. this bum detective waddles a lot like an old cow." "then we've passed the boy who called to see us, and failed to leave a card," grinned will. "we may meet him as we return!" "here's hoping we bump straight into him if we do meet him," george exclaimed. "i'm just aching to get my hands on that fellow!" "i'm not particularly anxious to catch him just yet," will suggested. "i want to find out what the kids are up to before we pounce down upon them." while the boys stood in the passage, whispering together, the light moved on until it came to a chamber which seemed to be rather shallow, for the reflection of the searchlight was still in the gangway. "now we've got him!" exclaimed will. "i think i remember that chamber, and, unless i'm very much mistaken, it opens only onto this passage! while he's poking around in there, we'll sneak up and see what's he's doing!" before the boys reached the entrance to the chamber they heard the sounds of a pick. when they came nearer and looked in they saw the detective poking away at heap of "gob" which lay in one corner of the excavation. he worked industriously, and apparently without fear of discovery. now and then he stooped down to peer into a crevice in the wall, but soon went on again. "i wonder if he thinks he can find two boys in that heap of refuse?" laughed george. "i wonder why he don't use a microscope." the detective busied himself at the heap of refuse for a considerable length of time, and then began further investigation of little breaks in the wall. using his pick to enlarge the openings he made a systematic search of one break after another. "looks like he might be hunting after some pirate treasure," george chuckled. "i never heard of captain kidd sailing over into the sloughs of pennsylvania. did you?" "that tells the story!" will whispered. "the fellow is here on some mission of his own. that story of his about being in quest of the boys is all a bluff! i reckon he had heard somewhere that two boys were missing and came here with the fairy tale!" "well, he's got a good, large mine to look in if he's in search of treasure," george suggested. "he can spend the rest of his days here, provided the operators don't get sore on him." while the boys looked, ventner turned toward the entrance to the chamber, and they scampered away. turning back, they saw him pass out of the place where he had been working and into a similar excavation farther on. there he worked as industriously as before. "you see how it is," will suggested. "the fellow is hunting for something, and doesn't know where to look for it! so it's all right to let him go ahead with his quest for hidden wealth, or whatever it is he's after. when he finds it, we'll not be far away!" "i like this walking about in my naked feet," george grunted in a moment. "i had my slippers on when i came down the ladder, but i either had to take them off and carry them in my hands or lose them in the mud." "same here!" will said. "i'm going back to my little cot bed right now and go to sleep. i think we have the detective sized up and we can catch the kids some other night." "me for the hay, too," george exclaimed. "i don't think i was ever quite so sleepy in my life!" "now, on the way back," will cautioned, "we ought to keep still and keep a sharp lookout for the person who was sneaking around our quarters." "whoever it was may be between us and the shaft," george suggested. "if i thought so," will argued, "i'd just stand around and wait until they pass us on the way in. i don't want to find those boys just now. there's a mystery connected with this mine which the caretaker knows nothing about, and which mr. horton never referred to when he sent us down here. "we wouldn't be able to breathe if we didn't discover an air of mystery every fifteen minutes," george declared. half way back to the shaft the boys, who were walking very softly in their stockinged feet, heard a rattle as of a moving stone or piece of coal in the passage, and at once drew up against the side wall. while they stood there, scarcely daring to breathe, they sensed that some one was passing them in the darkness. the tread was light and brisk, and they thought they heard a soft chuckle as the unseen figure breezed by them. "i'll bet the lad who was listening near our door never came down the shaft until after we did!" george whispered after the figure had passed by. "that's very likely!" agreed will. "then he may have been poking around our quarters while we have been gone." "that's very likely, too." believing the way to be clear now, the boys hastened on toward the shaft. just as they reached the foot of the ladder they heard a sound which sent the blood throbbing to their checks. "he's making fun of us!" exclaimed george. "it looks like it," admitted will. the sound they heard was the low, complaining snarl of the wolf. "the nerve of him!" exclaimed george. "perhaps he'll answer now!" will suggested. then followed the "slap, slap, slap!" of the beaver patrol. no answer came from the darkness beyond the shaft. "he's got his nerve with him!" declared will. "when i get hold of him, i'll teach him to answer boy scout challenges!" when the boys got back to their quarters they found tommy and sandy sitting in the darkness with their automatics and their searchlights in their hands. one of them turned on a finger of light as the boys entered but immediately shut it off again. "what's coming off here?" demanded will. "do you know what those fellows did?" asked tommy. "they came here while we were asleep and stole about half our provisions!" chapter xiii one more hungry boy "we may as well turn on the lights!" will said. "if any one comes in here to steal tommy's necktie," he added with a wink at his chum, "we want to see what he looks like." "why didn't you stay here and watch, then?" demanded tommy. "why did you go off and leave the camp all alone? i heard people moving around, and i thought it was you." will and george sat down on the edge of their cots and laughed. "yes, you thought it was me!" will said directly. "you never heard a thing! you'd better look and see if the midnight visitors didn't steal your pajamas. or they might have taken your pillow." tommy threw a shoe at his tormentor and turned on the electric light. "now that i'm awake," he said with a sly grin, "i think that i'll get myself something to eat. seems to me i'm always hungry." while the boy rattled among canned goods and candled eggs to see if they were fit for a four-minute boil, sandy turned to george. "what did you find in the mine?" he asked. "we found that bum detective nosing around. we've got his number now, all right," the boy went on, "and there's something in the mine that he wants to find and he doesn't know where to look for it. he isn't looking for jimmie and dick any more than we're looking for a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. i don't believe he was ever sent here to make a search for the missing boys!" "what was he doing when you saw him?" asked sandy. "poking around in worked-out chambers with a pick!" "did he see you?" "you bet he didn't! do you think we're going to walk six miles in from the country in order to dodge the detective, and then let him run across us in the mine?" "yes, but what's he looking for?" insisted sandy. "that, me son," george replied with a wink, "is locked in the bosom of the future! we may be able to find out what he's doing here when we find out who struck billy patterson." "don't get gay now!" grinned sandy. "well, if you insist upon it," george continued with a smile, "ventner was digging in refuse heaps for something which he didn't find!" "did you meet the boys who stole our provisions?" was the next question. "i wish you'd got hold of them!" "we are certain that one of them passed us while we were returning," george answered. "the nerve of him!" shouted sandy. "the idea of his coming here and swiping our provisions!" tommy cut in. "if i ever get hold of that gink, i'll beat his head off!" "you going back after than bum detective tonight?" asked george. "not me!" answered sandy. "me for ham and eggs." "what's the matter with passing the ham and eggs around?" every one of the four boys sprang forward as the words came from somewhere just outside the door. "that's one of those thieving kids!" declared tommy. "you've had your share!" shouted sandy. "it has now been nine day's since i've tasted food!" came the answer from the other side of the door, and the boys thought they caught a chuckle between the words. "all right!" replied tommy. "you go and sit in the deserted mine nine days more, and then we'll consider whether you have any right to be hungry. go on away tonight, anyhow!" "not so you could notice it," came the insistent tones from beyond the door. "i'm going to stay right here until i get something to eat!" "eat the stuff you stole!" advised sandy. "you're in wrong!" came from the other side of the door. "i haven't had a thing to eat in forty or fifty days. come on, now," he added, "be good fellows and open up. i'm so hungry i could eat a brass cylinder." "aw, let him in!" advised tommy. "he'll stand there chinning all night if we don't! we've got enough to eat for the present anyway." will unfastened the door and a tall slender young fellow of perhaps seventeen stopped inside the room and stood blinking a moment under the strong, electric light. his face was streaked with coal dust and his clothing was ragged and dirty. still the boy looked like anything but a tramp. tommy eyed him suspiciously for a moment. "where'd you come from?" he asked. "off the rods!" was the reply. "and i suppose," sandy broke in, "that you were just taking a stroll by starlight and just happened to walk into this mine." "sure," answered the other with a provoking grin. "well, if anybody should ask you," tommy continued, "you're the boy that had a mix-up with the tramp tonight, and ran away while we were trying to invite you to supper. what do you know about that?" "invite me to supper now and see if i'll run away!" "if you boys will cut out this foolish conversation for a minute," will suggested, "i'll try to find out what this boy wants. do you mean to say," he added turning to tommy, "that you bumped into this kid while returning to the mine from the tracks?" "didn't i tell you about that?" asked tommy. "i thought i did. we found him in a mix-up with a tramp, and that's all there is to it!" "and i told you at the time," the stranger interrupted, "that the tramp tried to rob me! that was all right, too. he did try to rob me, but i didn't have a blessed cent in my possession, so he didn't get anything! the tramp who got a hold of me night before last stripped me clean! and that, you see, is why i haven't got any money to buy provisions with. and also that's the reason why i'm hungry." the four boys gathered around the stranger and began a systematic course of questions which at first brought forth only unsatisfactory answers. "and also," the boy went on, taking up the speech he had begun some minutes before, "that's why two boys are hungry just about this time. i got rolled for my wad plenty." "that's south clark street!" laughed tommy. "that's bowery!" corrected the other. "what'd you say about other boys being hungry?" asked sandy. "i said that's why two other boys are hungry." "they ain't hungry any more," declared tommy with a wink. "that listens good!" the stranger said. "because," continued tommy, "they came in here about an hour ago and stole everything they could get their hands on." "brave boys!" laughed the other. "you wasn't hiding behind the door when they gave out nerve, either!" declared tommy. "here, these boys come here and steal our grub and you seem to think they did a noble thing! what's your name anyhow?" "buck!" was the reply. "elmer cyrus buck, lexington avenue, n.y.c. member of the wolf patrol, boy scouts of america, and just about ready to scrap for something to eat!" "why didn't you say so before?" tommy exclaimed, setting a great slice of ham and several freshly boiled eggs, together with bread and butter and canned tomatoes before the young man. "how long since you've seen jimmie maynard and dick thompson?" asked will. "you must have failed to connect with them tonight!" "how do you know that?" "because if you had bumped into them, they would fed you out of the provisions they stole from us!" "i haven't been looking for them tonight!" elmer replied. "i tried to follow you to the mine," he added turning to tommy and sandy, "when you left me at the car. but, somehow, i lost track of you in the darkness, and when you finally got into the mine, i had to wait for things to quiet down before i could force an entrance. i don't think i could have got in at all if some one hadn't been ahead of me with a jimmy, or an axe, or something of that kind." "that must have been ventner," suggested will. "mother of moses!" cried elmer. "has that fellow got into the mine again? does he know you're here?" "he knew that we were here," was the answer, "but he thinks we've gone away! he's down in the mine now, hunting for a pot of diamonds in the refuse cast aside by the miners." "well, you've got him into the mine, at last," will suggested. "what is the next move you are thinking of making?" "after i finish my modest supper," elmer answered with a nod at the great stack of food which tommy had piled on his plate, "i'm going to give you boys the surprise of your lives!" "you're pretty well done now," laughed will. "and i'm going to begin," elmer resumed, "by fishing two members of the wolf patrol out of the mine and bringing them up here to apologize for stealing your grub!" "if you'll do that," replied will, "we'll forgive you!" chapter xiv mine rats ready for war "wait till i destroy this hen fruit," elmer said, "and i'll go down and bring those two foolish youngsters up with me. it's time we had an understanding with you boys. you're here looking for something, and we're here looking for something. perhaps we would meet with better success if we talked over our plans." "what are you looking for?" demanded tommy. "keep it dark," grinned elmer. "i'm not going to tell you a thing until i bring jimmie and dick up here so they can get next to the whole story! i guess you boys can work together without scrapping, can't you?" "when we find the boys," laughed will, "our job will come to an end!" "you just wait till i go and bring up jimmie and dick, and i'll tell you all about it! i won't be gone more than a minute." "so that's what you came down here after, isn't it?" "yes, we came here to dig two boys out of a mine." "i don't believe it!" replied elmer. "we came here from chicago for that very purpose," went on will. "who sent you here?" asked elmer. "lawyer horton." "then lawyer horton didn't tell you the 'whole story,'" laughed elmer. "he held out on you boys just to see if you wouldn't get the story at the mine. of course he didn't know where we were at the time he sent you down here, but he never sent you for the express purpose of finding us!" "then why did he send us?" asked tommy. "you just wait till i go and bring up jimmie and dick, and i'll tell you all about it! i won't be gone more than a minute." "but hold on," cried sandy. "you mustn't go chasing down into the mine now. that bum detective is there, and we don't want him to know that we're anywhere within a hundred miles of this place." "he doesn't know that we're here, either," commented elmer. "his notion is that he drove us all into the next state when he caused the mine to be flooded. he thinks he has the whole mine to himself, now." "so he caused the mine to be flooded, did he?" "sure he did," was the curt reply. "the boys saw him digging away at the wall which protects this dry mine from the wet one next door." "so you saw him doing it, did you?" "i didn't, because i haven't been in the mine before any length of time, but jimmie and dick saw him. "we've been told that he made the trouble," will agreed, "but we weren't so very sure of it, after all. at least, we didn't have the proof. he ought to get twenty years for that!" "well, if you keep asking me questions all night," elmer declared, "i'll never get the boys up here, and you'll never know why you were sent here! you can come along with me if you want to." "but how about this detective?" insisted sandy. "we ought to be able to get the boys up here, without letting him know that we are in the mine," answered elmer. "we needn't travel with a fife and drum corps ahead of us, nor even carry any lights down with us. he's probably working in some inside chamber." "all right," will answered, "we've had our trip through the mine tonight, so we'll let tommy and sandy go with you. are you sure the boys will come if you ask them to?" "sure they'll come!" was the reply. the two boys drew on their rubber boots with which they had provided themselves before taking up their quarters in the mine, and which they had been too excited to use on a previous occasion, and will loaned a pair to elmer, then they started down the ladders. "it would be something of a joke if we should butt into that detective now, wouldn't it?" sandy laughed, as they passed down from the second level. "i shouldn't consider it much of a joke," replied tommy. "we took a lot of pains to make him think we'd gone out of town!" as the boys walked softly down the center gangway they heard a fall of rock which seemed to come from the passage next north. this passageway was connected by the main one with a cross-heading, situated perhaps three hundred feet from the shaft. "i don't know much about mines," whisper elmer as the boys stopped and listened to the clatter of the rocks as they settled down on the floor of the cavern, "but that sounds to me a whole lot like a fall from the roof. i hope the boys are not injured." the boys walked faster until they came to the cross-passage and then turned to the right. just as they left the main gangway, they heard the sound of running feet and directly the distant creaking the ladder rungs. "some one's making a hot-foot for the surface!" exclaimed tommy. "that's ventner!" declared sandy. "how do you know that?" "because he wears heavy boots. we have rubbers, me and dick, and jimmie and dick, who are down in the mine, are also wearing rubber boots!" "the farther he gets away from the mine, the better it will suit me," elmer broke in. "i wish he'd go away and stay for a hundred years." "the chances are that he dug away one of the pillars and caused that drop from the roof," suggested sandy. "i guess that's all right, too," elmer argued. "if he's been digging around here the way the boys say he has, he's certainly taking chances on cutting down more than one column. he ought to be fired out of the mine!" the boys now came to a chamber across the entrance to which a great mass of shale had been thrown when the fall from the roof took place. at first they listened, fearful that they would hear voices of the lads they were in search of beyond the wall, possibly crushed under the weight of the of stone. then they passed along for a short distance and peered into the chamber over the heap of refuse. what they saw brought excited exclamations to their lips. jimmie and dick stood in the interior of the chamber, hedged in by fallen debris. they were swinging their searchlights frantically from side to side, and, while the boys looked, they began the utterance of such yells as had never before been heard in that gloomy place. "what's the trouble?" asked elmer, showing his light at the narrow opening between the roof of the chamber and the pile of refuse. "oh, you're there, are you?" asked one of the boys. "we thought perhaps you'd gone back to new york and left us to starve to death." "well, you didn't starve, did you?" asked elmer. "wow, wow, wow!" yelled jimmie. "now, what is it?" asked elmer. "rats!" yelled the boy. "millions of rats! they're creeping out by the regiment from the cribbing where we were hidden!" "that idiot of a detective," the other boy went on, "undermined a pillar and let about half an acre of roof down into this chamber. when the roof fell, it broke the cribbing and the rats began pouring out. "they won't hurt you!" declared tommy. "only you mustn't go to picking a quarrel with them. they're fighters when they get their tempers up. just let them alone and they'll let you alone!" "who's that talking?" demanded jimmie. "that's the relief expedition!" laughed elmer. "you ought to be fired out of the wolf patrol for not answering boy scout signals!" tommy broke in. "we called to you more than a dozen times, and you never answered once!" "well, we had to wait until elmer reported kind of fellows you were, didn't we?" asked dick. "we couldn't go and make friends with you with knowing what you were here for, so we kept out of your way until elmer could find a way to learn more about you." "and instead of finding a way," jimmie took up the argument, "he goes off and gets lost in a thicket about six feet square and never shows up with any grub for twenty-four hours! so we had to go and steal grub of the boys!" "yes, and we're going to have you pinched when you get out!" laughed tommy. "you'll get ninety days for that." "where'd that bum detective go?" asked jimmie. "when the roof fell, we heard him go clattering down the gangway running as though he had only about thirty seconds in which to get to new york." "he's a long distance from the mine by this time," elmer suggested. "well," jimmie said, "i don't like the company of these rats, so if you'll kindly dig into the refuse on your side, we'll work from this side and we'll soon be out. these rats look hostile." "you let 'em alone!" advised tommy. "yes, i'll let 'em alone -- not!" shouted jimmie. "you wait until i get an armful of rocks and i'll beat some of their heads off!" "for the love of mike, don't do anything of the kind!" yelled tommy. "they'll climb onto you nine feet thick if you injure one of them!" but it was too late! jimmie acquired an armful of large sized pieces of slate and began tossing them into the huddle of rats in the corner. for an instant the rats squealed viciously as they wore struck by the sharp edges of the slate, then they seemed to confer together for a moment or two, then they spread out like a fan and began moving toward the two boys. "now you've done it!" cried tommy. "if you don't get out of. there in about a second, the rats'll eat your legs off!" without waiting for the boys to assume the offensive, the rats began screaming and springing at their feet. the three boys on the outside of the barrier, understanding the peril their friends were in, crawled up to the top of the wall of refuse which shut the boys into the chamber and turned their lights inside. it seemed to them then that the rats were two or, three deep on the floor. there appeared to be hundreds--thousands of them. they circled around the boys, becoming bolder every moment. they nipped at the rubber boots and left the marks of their teeth on the tough uppers. "now, boys," tommy yelled, as they drew their automatics and leveled them over the wall, "shoot to kill! this is no sunday school picnic! and while we're shooting, boys, you back up to this wall, and see if you can't work your way to the top. if you can get up here, we can manage to displace enough slate to let you through." the boys fired volley after volley, but the rats came on viciously. chapter xv a stick of dynamite by this time jimmie and dick had their automatics out and were firing into the horde of rats. they killed the rodents by the score, yet for every one slaughtered a dozen seemed to appear. presently the chamber became so full of powder smoke, the air so stifling, that the lads were obliged to cease firing. "work your way up this wall," tommy cried out to the lads as he heard them panting below. "work your way up so we can catch hold of you, and you'll soon be out of that mess!" "there's a dozen rats hanging to my boot!" cried dick. "and mine, too!" declared jimmie. the three boys on the outside continued to hurt refuse from the top of the wall into the chamber. this in a measure kept the rats back, and before many minutes jimmie and dick were drawn to the top of the barrier. their rubber boots were cut in scores of places by the sharp teeth of the rats, and even their clothing as high up as their shoulders showed ragged tears. a dozen or more rats hung to the boys' boots until the top was reached, then they dropped back screaming with baffled rage. "talk about your wild indians!" exclaimed tommy. "i never saw anything as vicious as that was! i told you boys not to open up an argument with those fellows! mine rats are noted for their courage when attacked." "how many bites did you get?" asked elmer anxiously. "i got half a dozen nips!" answered jimmie. "and so did i," dick cut in. "well, you boys ought to get back to the room right away," tommy suggested, "and have peroxide applied to the wounds. i've known of people dying of blood poison occasioned by rat bites." "have you got it in camp with you?" asked elmer. "we're the original field hospital!" laughed tommy. "we never leave chicago without taking with us everything needed in the first aid to the wounded line. we'd be nice boy scouts to go poking about the country with nothing with which to heal our wounds!" "boys," elmer now said, with a mischievous grin on his face, "i want to introduce you to jimmie maynard and dick thompson. i've heard that your names are sandy and tommy, but that's all i know about it!" "green and gregory!" laughed tommy. "my name's gregory. sandy's name isn't sandy at all but charley. we call him sandy because he looks like he'd been rolled in sand." "well, we may as well be getting back to headquarters!" declared sandy after these original introductions had been made. "but hold on," he continued turning back to jimmie and dick, with a look on his face intended to be severe, "aren't you going to bring our provisions back?" "the provisions," laughed jimmie, "were hidden in the chamber where the rats were, and you're welcome to all you can get your hands on now!" "oh, well," sandy groaned, "i suppose we'll have to buy more." "one difficulty about passing in and out of the mine so frequently," tommy stated, "is that this man ventner is likely to catch us at it. there's no knowing what he'll do next if he finds that we're searching the place. according to elmer, you know," he continued, "we didn't finish our job when we landed on you boys. he says the real game is now about to begin." "he's right there!" declared jimmie. "strange thing mr. horton didn't tell us all above it!" complained tommy. "where was the use of his sending us down here and making monkeys of us? he ought to be ashamed of himself!" "he wanted to see whether you could find out what you were here for!" laughed elmer. "perhaps he understood that after you caught us, we'd tell you all about it. he's a pretty foxy guy, that man horton, from all i hear about him. i'm going to chicago some day to meet him!" "well, what is it we've got to look for now?" demanded sandy. "you just wait till we get to headquarters!" replied jimmie. "we ought to do that just as quickly as possible," tommy ventured, "because there's no knowing when that bum detective may return. i'd give a whole lot of money right now to know what he is looking for!" the three strangers regarded each other laughingly, evidently well pleased at the puzzled look showing on the faces of their friends. "wait till we get to headquarters and get a square meal under belts," jimmie promised, "and we'll tell you what this bum detective's looking for. it won't take long to do it, either." "you know, then, do you?" asked tommy. "of course, we know!" "then why don't you tell?" "couldn't think of telling on an empty stomach!" laughed jimmie provokingly. as the boys walked along the passage, only a short distance from the old tool house, they heard a rattling and bumping on the shaft ladders and instantly extinguished their lights. presently they heard footsteps on the hard floor of the gangway, and then a light such as those being used by the boys flashed out. "now we're in for it!" exclaimed tommy. "for the love of mike, don't let him see us!" whispered jimmie. "it'll spoil everything if he does," dick submitted. the boys crowded close against the wall of the gangway and waited impatiently for ventner to pass along. he was muttering to himself as he moved down the gangway, and his round, protruding belly and his little shapeless shoulders reminded the watching lads of the gnomes they had read about, living in underground cells and preying at night upon the fairies. only for a trifling accident the boys would certainly have been discovered. just as the detective same to a position ten or fifteen feet from where they were standing, when he was in a position to see their faces by the rays cast on ahead by the flashlight, he partly turned his ankle in a stumble on the rails, and for a moment the rays of the light were directed downward. he hobbled along, raving and cursing, for a few steps and then walked briskly on again. but the ever-watchful eye of the searchlight no longer struck upon the wall where the boys stood, and they realized that for the present they were safe from discovery. ventner moved on down the gangway and soon disappeared in a cross cutting which ran to the right. "that's lucky!" exclaimed jimmie. "why didn't we geezle him?" demanded tommy. "because we want his help!" replied dick. "his help?" laughed sandy. "yes, you'll get his help, all right! that fellow would get up in the middle of the night to do you a dirty trick, and don't you ever forget it!" "that's the way he's going to help us!" laughed elmer. "he'll get up in the middle of some dark night to do us a dirty trick, and before he knows what he's about, he'll be doing us a great kindness!" "suppose i slip back there and see what he's doing?" asked tommy. "can you find your way back to headquarters alone?" asked sandy. "if i can't," asserted tommy, "i won't be sending any wireless messages to you! if you think i'm likely to get lost, dick can go back with me. he ought to know every corner in the old mine." "sure he does!" laughed jimmie. "we've been traveling this mine for a good many nights now, and we know it like a book." so tommy and dick started back down the passage, the intention being to hasten to the spot where ventner disappeared from the gangway, and then return to their companions immediately. "we can't stay very long, you know," tommy explained, "because you've got to have that peroxide dope put on your bites. it doesn't pay to fool with wounds of that description!" "we'll be back to the old tool room as soon as they are!" answered dick. "it will take only a minute to run down there and back!" when the boys reached the cross-cutting into which ventner had disappeared, they saw his light some distance away. it seemed to be in one of the chambers connected with the cross-cutting. as they looked, the detective stepped forward into the circle of illumination and began working with a pick. "is he always doing that when you see him?", asked tommy. "you bet he is!" answered dick. "what's he doing it for?" "you'll have to ask elmer that." "but you know, don't you?" "of course i know, but i'm not going to tell, cause we all agreed that the story should never be told by any member of our party until elmer gets ready to tell it. so you see you've got to wait!" "if i had my way about it," gritted tommy, "i'd go back there and geezle that bum detective and wall him up in a chamber until he got hungry enough to tell the story himself. then we wouldn't have to go sneaking around the mine in order to keep out of his way!" "that would be a foolish move," insisted dick, "because every stroke of the pick ventner takes he helps us along in the game we're playing." "you're the original little mystery boy, ain't you?" said tommy rather crossly. "all right, i'll get even." the detective now moved farther along the cross-cutting and attacked a column of mingled rock and coal which helped to support the roof. "the blithering idiot is going to try that trick again!" exclaimed dick. "he'll have the whole mine down on our heads if he doesn't stop that business. he's always cutting down pillars." "just say the word," declared tommy, "and i'll go stop him!" "let him go his own gait," replied dick. "we'll manage to keep out of the way of the falls, and he can run his own chances." presently they saw the detective take something which resembled a stick of dynamite from a pocket and begin the work of setting it into the pillar. the boys moved hastily back. "now what do you think of that for a fool?" exclaimed dick. "he'll have the whole mine down on our heads some day, just as sure as he's a foot high! i hope he'll be broken in two when the fall comes." the boys stood some distance away watching the detective as he awkwardly manipulated the stick of dynamite. chapter xvi caused by a fall in the meantime sandy, elmer and jimmie reaching the old tool house, found will and george very wide awake and doing the most extraordinary stunts of cooking. "you said that your friends would be hungry," laughed will, "and so we're preparing to feed them up fine. after that, you know, you've got to go on and tell us why we were sent down here without any real information as to the work we were to do." "where did you leave, tommy and dick?" asked george. "they went back to see what the detective was up to." "so he's in the mine again, is he?" "yes," replied sandy, "and if i had my way about it, he'd go out so quick that he'd think he'd struck a barrel of dynamite." "if he keeps fooling with dynamite, he's likely to do that anyhow," elmer cut in. "the boys say that he uses dynamite in the search of the mine he is making. he doesn't know how to use it, either!" "then he's got to be fired out of the mine!" declared will. "we can't have him around here carrying dynamite in his clothes, and dropping it on the ground. you might as well give a baby a box of matches and a hammer to play with. some day there'll be an explosion." "aw, leave him alone for a few days!" jimmie advised. "he's doing us a lot of good just now, and we don't want to lose his help." "his help?" repeated will. "he's bully help!" shouted george, with fine sarcasm. "i guess i'll have to tell you about the mystery of the mine," elmer laughed. "tommy ought to be here to get the story with the rest, but you can tell him about it later on." "he ought to be here any minute now," jimmie asserted. "oh, he'll be here all right!" george argued. "go on with the story. it's been hours since you came in here with the suggestion that there was a story, and you haven't told it yet!" "yes," will interrupted, "get busy and tell us what mr. horton neglected to say when he sent us down here; and while you are about it," the boy went on, "you may as well tell us whether you really became lost in the mine, or whether you were sent here to do the very things you did do." "also," george broke in, "you may as well tell us what the detective is doing here, and how he is helping you in trying to blow up the mine." "the boys were never lost in the mine a minute!" replied elmer, with a grin, "and mr. horton knew it. mr. horton received his instructions from attorney burlingame of new york, and i am positive that burlingame gave his brother lawyer the whole story." "foxy game, eh?" laughed will. "i guess they wanted you to find out if we boys were of any account, and whether we were playing fair!" laughed jimmie. "well, anyway, they expected you to find us and learn the story i'm now going to tell," elmer continued. "jerusalem!" exclaimed will. "why don't you get at it. that story has been jumping from tongue to tongue clothed in mystery for hours and we haven't been favored with it yet!" "the story opens," elmer began, "on a cold and stormy night in october in the year . as the wind blew great gusts of rain down upon such pedestrians as happened to be out of doors--" "aw, cut it out!" exclaimed will. "why don't you go on and tell the story? we don't want any more of that henry james business! you know he always has a solitary horseman proceeding slowly on foot." "well, it was a dark night, and a stormy one!" declared elmer. "if it had been clear and bright, stephen carson, the wall street banker, wouldn't have received a dent in his cupola. in stepping down from his automobile his foot slipped on the wet pavement, and he fell, striking on the back of his head. "what's that got to do with this mine mystery?" demanded george. "it has a great deal to do with this mine mystery," elmer answered. "stephen carson arose from the ground, rubbed the back of his head with his gloved hand, and continued on his way to a meeting of a board of directors. he appeared to be perfectly sane and responsible for his acts at the meeting of the board, and when he left in his machine there were no indications that he had suffered more than a slight bruise from his fall. he was not seen at home again for two weeks." "now you begin to get interesting!" declared will. "where did he go?" asked sandy. "that is what his friends don't know," replied elmer. "but he must have been seen somewhere!" insisted sandy. "he was," answered elmer. "he was seen in the vicinity of this mine." "wow, wow, wow!" exclaimed sandy. "what was he doing here?" asked will. "wandering about the premises." "now i can tell you the rest," will said with a chuckle. "go on, then," advised elmer. "from the meeting of the board of directors that night," will went on whimsically, "this man stephen carson wept directly to a safety deposit vault where three or four hundred thousand dollars in the way of cash and jewelry were hidden. he took the whole bundle and disappeared. is that anywhere near right, elmer?" "go on!" elmer replied. "then in two weeks time he comes back and says that he don't know where he put the jewelry, but that he thinks he hid it in this mine. and, as they can't find any place where he hocked the jewelry, or put it up to carry out some gigantic wall street plan, they are forced to believe that he really did mislay the jewelry while temporarily out of his head. is that anywhere near right?" "if you'll amend your report so as to show that he went to the night and day bank and drew out something over two hundred thousand dollars which he had on deposit there, and disappeared with the entire sum, you'll come nearer to the truth." will gave a long whistle of amazement. "two hundred thousand dollars in real money!" exclaimed george. "yes, he took two hundred thousand dollars in real money away with him that night," elmer went on, "and when he returned to his home again, he was penniless and in rags." "was he in his right mind?" asked will. "he seemed to be." "has he now recovered from the injury he received that night?" "so the doctors say." "then why doesn't he tell what he did with the money?" "that part of his life is blank. he was seen in the vicinity of this mine, yet denies it. he was seen loitering in the woods not far away, but insists that he never visited this mine except to attend meetings of the board of directors." "now i've got you!" laughed will. "his friends think he hid the money in this mine and we've been sent here to find it!" "that's the idea," agreed elmer. "and this bum detective is here for the same purpose!" "yes, though where he received his information is more than i know. upon his return to his home, mr. carson immediately made good the two hundred thousand dollars taken from the night and day bank and employed detectives to look up the missing coin. "is ventner one of them?" asked will. "i don't think so," replied elmer. "we were sent here to look through the mine, with the understanding that you were to come on from chicago in a few days. mr. horton recommended you to mr. burlingame and so you were employed." "then this detective has no right here at all?" "none whatever, so far as i can make out." "then why not fire him?" "because he may accidentally run across the money some day." "if he does, he'll get away with it!" declared george. "no, he won't," answered elmer, "he'll be watched every minute from now on. you may be sure of that!" "but you didn't seem to know what he was doing tonight," laughed will. "but i knew enough to come to the right place for the information i desired," replied elmer. "strange thing tommy and dick don't come!" sandy exclaimed, stepping to the door of the old tool house and listening intently. "they should i have been here a long time ago!" "perhaps they've butted into ventner," suggested jimmie. "they wouldn't do that," elmer replied. "every blow he strikes with his pick saves us the trouble of making one." "you don't think he had any directions from anyone, do you?" asked will. "you don't think he knows, where to look for the money any more than you do?" "no, i think he just heard of the loss of the money and came down here on his own account." "well, if he's using dynamite in the mine," will continued, "he ought to be turned out of it. if mr. carson really hid two hundred thousand dollars in currency in here, it's in some little pocket easy to find if we get into the right chamber. the use of dynamite might bury it twenty feet deep under a load of shale that would never be removed!" "that's a fact!" cried elmer. the boys now stepped to the door and listened again, attracted by the sound of running feet. "there's something doing!" exclaimed sandy. "when tommy comes home on a run, there's always something going on." directly the boys came panting up, stopping in the doorway to look behind them. they were both well winded. "that bum detective back there," tommy exclaimed as soon as he could catch his breath, "is putting in dynamite enough to blow up the whole mine. he's attaching a long fuse, so he can get out before the explosion comes. we tried to get down far enough to choke off the fuse, but couldn't do it. in just about another minute, you'll hear something like a fourth of july celebration!" chapter xvii the signs in stones "we thought he'd send the shot off before we got up the ladders!" exclaimed dick. "we're expecting to hear the roar of it every minute now!" "perhaps something went wrong," suggested will. "what part of the mine is he in?" asked jimmie. tommy explained the location of the cross cutting and jimmie gave a whistle of dismay. in a moment he asked: "was he cutting into one of the pillars?" "yes," was the answer, "he was getting ready to blow it down with dynamite. it's a wonder we don't hear the explosion!" "if the spot where he's working is the place i think it is," jimmie continued, "the gink stands a pretty good chance of finding something. we've been searching in that chamber, and just before you boys showed up tonight we thought we were on the right track. whether the money is there or not, it is a sure thing that the walls of the chamber have been tampered with. we think, though, that the money is there!" "then we mustn't let ventner get it!" exclaimed will. "it won't do him any good to get it after that stick of dynamite explodes!" exclaimed tommy. "it'll blow him to kingdom come." "well, why don't we go down and see about it?" asked will "not for me!" exclaimed tommy. "he may blow his own head off if he wants to," dick put in, "but he can't blow off mine, not with my consent. i've got only one head!" "i don't believe there's going to be any explosion at all!" exclaimed elmer. "he wouldn't be apt to lay a fuse that would burn fifteen or twenty minutes, and you've certainly been that length of time coming up here, to say nothing of the time we've been talking!" "all right!" tommy exclaimed. "perhaps he was loading up that pillar with dynamite just for the fun of it!" "it would be a nice thing to have him blow that money out of the pillar and get away with it, wouldn't it?" scoffed will. "come on, then," shouted tommy, "i can take you to the firing line in about a minute. if you want to see an earthquake in a coal mine, just come along with me! you'll see it, all right!" the boys left the old tool house without spending any more time in conversation, and hastened down the ladders to the lower level. on the way down the last gangway they heard some one moving about in the darkness, and then came a cry of warning. "stand clear! stand clear!" "that's ventner's voice!" exclaimed will. "there's a blast going off in a minute!" the voice came again. "now we've gone and done it!" exclaimed will. "after all the trouble we've taken to make that fellow think we've left the country, we've let him bump right into us. i wonder if he really has fired the fuse?" "stand clear! stand clear!" shouted the voice. almost before the words had died out, the explosion came, tearing more than one pillar out of position and dropping a great mass of slate down on the floor of the cross-cutting. for a moment the gases which filled the chambers were overpowering. the only wonder was that they were not ignited. the electric lights carried by the boys shone dimly through the smoke of the confined place. "there goes ventner," whispered will, pointing to a figure moving swiftly through the half-light of the place. "he's going to see what the shot brought down!" suggested tommy. the boys rushed forward in a little group. when they gathered at the scene of the explosion, the detective was not there. "if he got hold of the cash, he knew what to do with it all right!" exclaimed tommy. "he got away with it before we got a chance to see what he had. now we've got to catch him!" "may as well look for a needle in a load of hay!" grumbled sandy. "look here," jimmie exclaimed. "there's away to keep him shut up in the mine if we do the right thing. this cross-cutting runs out to a gangway on the north, and that, in turn, leads, of course, to the shaft. now, one of you boys duck out to the shaft and see that he doesn't get up. you'll have to go some on the way there, because a man with two hundred thousand dollars in his pocket will put up some running match!" "i'm off!" shouted tommy. "i know i can get to the shaft before he can! he's too fat-bellied to run, anyway!" tommy started away at a swift pace, and the other boys closed in on the gangway, will alone stopping at the scene of the explosion. "this gangway," dick explained, "runs back into the mine for some distance, but there are no cross passages. i guess the coal wasn't very good here. at least, they never spread out the drive." "then we've got him bottled up unless he got out of the shaft!" declared sandy. "we'll soon know whether he got out or not!" "i don't believe he would try to get out," suggested elmer. "the chances are that he'd make for the back of the mine, thinking to hide away with the plunder, provided he had any plunder to hide away with." "i'm afraid he found the hidden money," will said, taking a scorched ten-dollar bill from a pocket. "i found this back there, where the pillar fell. i guess he found the cash all right!" "and that's a nice thing, too!" exclaimed sandy. "you boys kept saying that ventner was helping you find the coin. you were right about that, for he did find the coin. and now the trick is to get it away from him!" "i'd like to know whether ventner got up the shaft or not,"' suggested george, "and i believe i'll take a run up there and see." "that's a good idea!" advised will. "if he didn't get up the shaft he's surely imprisoned in the gangway. he may be between this cross-cutting and the shaft, or he may have gone further in!" "it'll take a long time to find out about that," suggested jimmie. directly tommy and george were heard returning from the shaft. they came through the gangway flashing their lights in every direction. "he never went up the shaft!" tommy exclaimed as they came near. "we've got him canned in the mine all right. if he's got the money, we'll take it away from him! he wouldn't know what to do with it anyway!" "first," suggested will, "we'd better make sure that the fellow got the money. the bank note i found may have never been in the possession of mr. carson. and even if it was, it may be the only one to be blown out of its hiding place by the explosion. it strikes me that we'd better give the place a thorough search before we waste much time looking for ventner. if, as tommy says, he never left the mine by way of the shaft, we've got him blocked in, all right!" the boys now began a careful examination of the cross-cutting where the explosion had taken place. as has been stated, more than one pillar had been blown out. there was a great heap of debris on floor, and this the boys attacked with a vim. tommy and george were now standing guard at mouth of the cross-cutting so that no one could pass down the gangway toward the shaft. "suppose that fellow did get the money?" asked sandy, as the boys cleared away the heaps of slate, "what then?" "then we'll have to take it away from him." "we'll catch him first." "we've got him blocked in, haven't we?" asked sandy. "oh, we know that he can't get out," dick cut in, "but we know, too, that there are a lot of shallow benches along that gangway. we can't walk in and pick him out in a minute. besides," the boy continued, "when we find him, we may find his pockets empty." "that's just what we will do!" elmer agreed. "he'll hide the money in another place, and swear that he never found it!" "i wish we'd kicked him out of the mine!" exclaimed sandy. the boys continued the search until daylight, and then, leaving tommy and george still on guard, they went up to the old tool house for breakfast. the lads were by no means elated over what had taken place. they believed that ventner had succeeded in finding the money, and were certain that, even if located in the mine, he would deny any knowledge of it. "i guess we got you boys into a mess by insisting on having the detective roaming around," admitted elmer, as the boys were eating a hastily prepared breakfast. "i guess we should have listened to you in regard to that. there is no knowing how much trouble we have made!" "he may help us find the money after all!" laughed will. "yes," cut in sandy, "it may be easier to get it away from him than to find the place where it was hidden." "oh, yes, if we could lay our hands on him and order him to give up two hundred thousand dollars, and he, would say: 'yes, i've been waiting to find the owner,' that would be all right, too! but the thing isn't likely to turn out in that way! he'll hide the money, and swear he never found it! then, when everything quiets down, he'll sneak back and get it!" this from jimmie, who seemed to a take a rather gloomy view of the situation. the boys remained at the old tool house only a short time. their minds were fixed so intently on the work in hand that they hardly knew whether they had had any breakfast at all. as they passed down the ladders to the lower level, they heard something which resembled a shot, and almost tumbled over each other going down into the gangway. will and elmer were first to reach the cross-heading where the explosion of dynamite had taken place. they called to tommy and george, but received no answer. they walked for some distance down the gangway without hearing any sound indicating the presence of their companions, or of any one else. "now that's a funny thing!" exclaimed will. "i don't see why those boys should go rambling about the mine at a time like this just for the fun of the thing!" "they never did!" replied elmer. "you remember the shot we heard?" "it might not have been a shot!" suggested will. as the boy spoke he bent over and pointed to stones lying on the floor of the gangway. "there!" he said. "the boys have left a record. they not only point out the trail, but warn us that there is danger in following it!" chapter xviii two hold-up men "that's boy scout talk all right!" exclaimed elmer. "yes, the three stones, piled one on top of the other, mean that there is danger in following the trail. i don't understand exactly what kind of danger can be threatening us, and so the only thing we cart do is to go on and find out," will said with a glance backward. the other boys now came up and a short consultation was held. it was decided to leave sandy and dick at the point where the explosion had taken place, while will, elmer and jimmie followed on down the gangway. "now whatever you do," warned will as the two boys were left behind, "don't leave this gangway for a minute. if ventner isn't out of the mine now we don't want him to get out. he may money or he may not. that is one of the things no fellow can find out at this time, but whether he has or not, we want him to give an account of himself before he leaves the labyrinth. he's got several important questions to answer." the boys promised to watch the passage faithfully, and the others passed on down the gangway, flashing their lights in every direction and making no pretense of moving quietly. "look here," jimmie said after they had proceeded some distance into the mine and discovered nothing of importance, "i have in my possession a great idea! want to hear about it?" "sure!" laughed will. "we're making too much noise." "making too much noise in order to attract the attention of a couple of lost youngsters?" asked elmer. "'they're not lost!" insisted jimmie. "they've been lured away or dragged away! we don't know how many men were in the mine with ventner?" "well, produce your idea!" elmer exclaimed. "well, my notion is that i ought to go on ahead of you boys, walking as quietly as possible and without a light. if there are people waiting to snare us, they'll naturally think we've bunched our forces and are all coming along together. then, you see," he continued, "i'll be right in among them before they suspect that we have a skirmish line out." "that's an all right notion, kid!" answered will. "then i'll be on my way," jimmie replied. "and if i need help at any time, i'll give the call of the pack!" "but you mustn't do that unless you have to," wilt cautioned, "because, the minute the cry is heard, everybody within eighty rods would know what's going on. have you matches with you?" the boy felt in the pockets of his coat and nodded. "well, then," he said, "if you want to signal, wet your hands and rub the phosphorus off the matches. turn your hands, palms in our direction, so no one can see from the other side and wig-wag." "that will be fine!" exclaimed jimmie. "i've got this wig-wag system down pat. i guess this boy scout training is pretty poor, ain't it, eh? the darker it is, the better we an talk!" jimmie darted away, while will and elmer remained stationary for a short time in order to give him an opportunity to get out of the range of their lights. directly they heard him whispering back and listened. "there's another stone cairn here!" he said. "i guess i knocked it over, for i can't tell exactly what it is. you can learn that when you come up with your searchlights! i think there are three stones." "all right!" will whispered back. when the boys came to the spot from which the voice had been heard they found three stones lying side by side on the floor of the gangway. it was plain that they had been placed one on top of the other, and so they accepted them as another warning of danger. "i wish we had some intimation of the kind of trouble we are likely to get into," elmer suggested, as they passed along. "i don't like this idea of boring a hole in the darkness with a little bit of a light and anticipating an attack at any minute." "i don't like it a little bit myself," replied will. "a person so inclined might shoot us down without ever showing himself," declared elmer. "in fact, the only protection we have lies in the fact that jimmie is on ahead, and would not be likely to pass any one lying in wait for us. bright little boy, that!" "there he is now!" exclaimed will. "he's using the phosphorus, all right, and i can begin to understand what he's trying to say? there's a 'w', and an 'a', and an 'i', and a 't'. that means that he wants us to stay where we are. the system works fine, doesn't it?" the question now was as to whether the lads should extinguish their lights. that, of itself, they understood would be suspicious in case they should be in sight of their enemies. it would simply proclaim their knowledge of the danger they were in, whatever it was. "i think we'd better keep the lights going until we hear something more," said elmer. "jimmie will talk again in a minute." the boys waited patiently for some moments, and then the wig-wag figures came again. will read slowly: "there's a 'v', and an 'e', and an 'n', and a 't', and an 'n', and an 'e', and an 'r'," he said. "now the boy's starting it again. he says, 'ventner is here.' now wait a minute, there's more coming!" "the next words are: 'with two others.'" "it's only a question of time when that detective will get next to the wig-wag game," elmer declared. "this gangway smells like a match factory already. i wonder how far jimmie is away from them." directly jimmie began talking the wig-wag tongue again. this time he said that tommy and george were not in sight, and had evidently been surprised and taken prisoners. he advised will and elmer to come on softly with their lights out. the boys did as requested, but they had advanced only a few paces in the darkness when canfield, accompanied by sandy and dick came running up, showing both lack of breath and profound excitement. "boys," canfield called. "boys!" "will!" yelled sandy. "i guess they're going to bust up the whole combination!" declared will rather sourly. "i wish i had them by the neck!" "they may have important news," suggested elmer. "anyway, we'll have to turn on our lights and meet them. if we don't, they'll keep on yelling all down the gangway!" canfield and the two boys came up as soon an elmer showed a light, and stood for a moment looking cautiously about. "i don't think you boys ought to go any further into the mine," canfield exclaimed, breathing heavily from the long chase down the passage. "i have just received word that two of the most desperate hold-up men in the country have taken refuge here. there's no knowing how they got over to the mine, but it is a sure thing that they did get here, for couple of breaker boys saw them climbing into the breaker." "what time was this?" asked will. "oh, i don't know," replied canfield. "the matter was reported to me early this morning. i couldn't find you before, or you should have had the news sooner. it isn't safe for you to go into the mine!" "your information," grinned will, "comes a little bit late, but it's all right, just the same. ventner is in there, and there are two men with. it's a mystery how they made their way in without being discovered, but it seems that they did so." "what are you going to do?" asked canfield. "we're going on into the mine." "in the face of my warning?" "it's just this way," answered will. "we left two of the boys on guard in this passage, not so very long ago, and they have disappeared. we suspect that ventner and the two men to whom you refer have good reason to know something of their whereabouts." "they won't injure the boys!" pleaded canfield. "we don't mean to give them a chance!" insisted elmer. "we're going to jerk those boys out so quick it'll make their heads swim!" "but it's positively dangerous!" urged the caretaker. "if there wasn't an element of danger in the situation, we wouldn't be here!" replied will, "i don't see as we need to run away from two hold-up men, anyway," the boy went on. "here are five boys and one full grown man in the gangway. we ought to give a pretty good account of ourselves, in case some one starts anything!" "where's the fifth boy?" asked canfield. "it seems to me that you're getting quite an accumulation of boys in here!" "two of the boys are jimmie maynard and dick thompson!" answered will. "you know you informed me quite positively not long ago that the i two lads were hundreds of miles from this place by that time." "you might barricade the hold-up men and starve them out," suggested canfield, "that is, if you're sure they're in there!" "we have just had a wireless from the interior," elmer answered. "there are three men in there, all right!" "well, it won't take any longer to starve three out than it would one!" declared canfield. "yes," elmer cut in, "and about the first time the hold-up men got good and hungry, they'd be sending out tommy's ears or one of george's fingers just as a warning to us not to meddle with their appetites." before long jimmie began wig-wagging again, but before any words could be formed the waiting boys heard a distant scuffle, a short, quick cry of alarm, and then the phosphorus-covered palms disappeared from sight. "they've got jimmie!" elmer said in a tone of dismay. "well, what are we going to do?" demanded sandy. "we've got to do something right away, and that's no story out of the dream book!" "i don't suppose it would be of any use to rush them," suggested elmer. "they'd mow us down like rats!" declared dick. "it strikes me," sandy said, "that we'd ought to get back further and keep out of sight until we can decide upon some definite plan of action." "i've got an idea wandering around in the back of my brain," will said. "if the situation is exactly as i think it is, we may be able to get the best of those hold-up men after all." chapter xix the money in sight "not while they have possession of the boys," canfield declared dolefully. "they'll murder those boys if we shut off their supplies!" "oh, i don't know about that!" suggested dick. "we've been mixed up in a great many awkward situations but we always managed to save our necks. we'll get the boys out in some way!" "look here, mr. canfield," will said, "how well do you know this mine?" "every inch of it!" was the reply. "every inch of every level," asked will. "yes, sir!" replied the caretaker, rather proudly. "i can go into any part of it without a light!" "then look here, dick," will directed. "you chase back to the old tool house and bring back a long rope. and when you return, stop at the second level. some of us will meet you there." "i hope you don't expect to pull these boys up through fifty or a hundred feet of shale?" asked the caretaker. "i don't know whether my scheme will work or not," will answered, "but it's worth trying! we have to leave at least two here, well armed and take the others with us. you'll have to act as guide, mr. canfield, and we'll meet dick when he comes down to the second level with the rope. as soon as we get the boys out of their trouble, we can leave the three outlaws in full possession of the mine. if we watch the shaft at the old tool house, they can never get out without our knowing it!" "i don't understand what you have in mind," faltered canfield. leaving sandy and elmer in the gangway from which the wig-wag signals had been shown, the others hastened up the ladder to the second level. then dick ran away to bring the rope, while will questioned the caretaker regarding the fall between the two levels. "you remember the old shaft, cut through years ago, and doubtless deserted when the vein ran out, which at one time connected the two levels, don't you?" asked the boy of the caretaker. "there is such a place," replied the caretaker. "can you find it?" "of course i can." "does the fall open into the system of chambers in the center or to the north? you understand what i mean! is it possible to enter any of the benches or chambers connecting with the north gangway on the lower level by means of this deserted shaft?" "i am not quite certain about that," replied canfield, "but my idea is that the north benches and chambers can be reached by means of that opening. i am glad you thought of that," he went on. dick now returned with the rope, and the three proceeded down the second level until they came to a confusion of passages and benches which would certainly have bewildered any one not familiar with the mine. "unless i am very much mistaken," canfield went on, "this passage, the one straight ahead, runs almost directly over tunnel six. if i am right in this, the deserted shaft is here." "and tunnel six is the haunted corridor, isn't it?" asked dick. "that's where the lights have been seen!" replied the caretaker. "you never believed in the ghost stories told about tunnel six?" asked will. "i should think you'd begin to see now that the alleged ghosts were pretty material things." "well, i don't know about the ghosts," replied the caretaker, "but i really was getting a little bit nervous when you boys arrived. you know," he continued, "that we all feel a little shivery when we butt into anything which we can't understand." "well, suppose you follow this passage to the end and see if you discover anything like the deserted shaft," suggested dick. "you're not going to venture into the lower level again, are you?" asked canfield. "i don't blame you boys for wanting to rescue your companions, but, at the same time, i don't want to see you throw your lives away. those are desperate men in tunnel six!" "if my idea is worth anything at all," replied will, "we'll get the boys out without ever letting the hold-up men know that we are within a mile of them. you know we had very little difficulty in getting out of the chamber where we left the boat." "trust you boys for inventing ways of doing things!" exclaimed canfield. "of course," will said hesitatingly after a time, "it may be that this deserted shaft doesn't connect with tunnel six, but even if it doesn't, we'll find some way of getting to our friends from the new position. we can only try, anyway!" "i'm pretty certain that it connects with tunnel six," replied the caretaker. "but you mustn't show your light when you approach the old shaft," he went on, "because if it does connect with the chamber we seek, and the chamber in turn connects with the north passage, the robbers will see what we're doing." "that's a valuable suggestion!" replied will. "i'll go on ahead," canfield continued, "and find the old shaft. then you can follow on with the rope, and one of you boys can drop down and see what can be discovered." "it's dollars to apples," chuckled dick, as the boys trailed along after the caretaker, "that we, find the three kids trussed up like a lot of hens ready for the market in the chamber where you came so near getting wet. i hope we do, at any rate!" "there's one thing we overlooked," will said as canfield whispered to them that he had found the deserted shaft, "and that is this: we should have directed the boys in the gangway to have attracted the attention of the outlaws by a little pistol practice while we are communicating with our friends. they may be all packed away in the chamber together." "yes, we should have attended to that," replied dick. "perhaps i'd better go back now and tell them to get busy with their automatics." "we may as well investigate the situation here first," the other answered. the boys heard the caretaker creeping about in the darkness, and presently a piece of shale or coal was heard rattling down the old shaft. "we'll have to get that blundering caretaker away from there," whispered will. "if we don't, he'll notify the hold-up men that we're getting ready to do something! i've heard that about three-fourths of the people in the world object to doing anything unless they can take a brass band along, and i guess it's true." "say," canfield whispered, calling back to the lads, "when that stone dropped down, i heard something that sounded like a paddle slapping down on the water. that room can't be wet yet, can it?" "the beaver call!" whispered will. "right you are!" replied dick. "the boys are there, all right!" "now the next thing to do is to find out if those highwaymen are watching them," declared will. "i'll tell you that in a minute," dick whispered. as the boy spoke, he passed one end of the rope to canfield. "hang on to it, whatever takes place!" he whispered, "and i'll drop down and see what's going on." "you must be very careful," warned canfield. "that's all right," answered dick, "but we can't stand here all day figuring out precautions. we've got to know right off whether there's anyone in that chamber watching the boys!" "what a joke it would be to put on a ghost in tunnel six!" laughed will in a decidedly cheerful frame of mind now that rescue seemed so near. "don't try any foolishness!" advised canfield. "let's rescue the boys if possible and make our way out of this horrible place." will crawled to the edge of the shaft with dick and whispered as he lowered him into the dark opening below: "remember, that ventner may have discovered the money. if so, we must secure it before we leave the place! it will be just like him, to stow the bank notes away in some chamber like the one you are about to enter. when you strike bottom, if there is no one in sight except the boys, turn on your searchlight and take a good look over the interior of the chamber. "we were in there not so very long ago, but at that time we weren't thinking of making a search there for hidden money. you'll have to use your own judgment about turning on the light, of course. the outlaws may be out in the gangway, some distance from the entrance to the chamber, or they may be within six feet of where the boys are held as prisoners." "tommy ought to be able to tell me the minute i strike the heap of shale whether the outlaws are close by or not!" dick suggested. "of course!" answered will, "if he knows. if the men are not in sight, and he doesn't know where they are, you'll simply have to take chances. if you get caught in there, you'll have to shoot, and shoot quick!" dick dropped down into the old shaft and directly the anxious watchers above heard the rattle of shale as it dropped from the pyramid under the opening. will, still clinging to the rope, lay on his stomach and peered downward, watching with all anxiety for some show of light, or some sound which might indicate the situation below. directly will felt a soft, steady pull at the rope, and knew that one of the boys was ready to be hoisted to the top. dick came up first, chuckling as he landed on the edge of the break in the rock, and was immediately followed by jimmie. "where's tommy and george?" asked will in a whisper. "they're down there looking for the money!" "looking for the money in the darkness?" "sure!" was the reply. "you see," he went on, "those ginks tied us up, good and tight, and then threw the money around promiscuous like!" "so the money is there?" asked will. the news seemed too good to be true! "it was there when we were first thrown into the chamber," replied jimmie, "but i have an idea that ventner sneaked in and removed it so as to prevent his mates getting any share." a light flashed out from below, followed immediately by a pistol shot! chapter xx sandy is discharged elmer and sandy, guarding the gangway variously called the north section and tunnel six, presently heard voices coming from the direction of the shaft, and the latter moved back a few paces in order to inspect the new-comers. in a moment he saw three rather pompous looking men approaching him, their footsteps being directed by a man clothed as a miner. "here, boy!" shouted one of the pompous men. "can you tell me where canfield, the caretaker of the mine may be found?" "he's up on the next level," replied sandy. "i was told he was down here," growled the speaker, who was very short and fat, and very much out of breath. "he was here a little while ago," answered sandy. "what's the meaning of this show of firearms?" demanded the fat main, after glancing disdainfully at the automatic in the boy's hand. "we've got three robbers cooped up in the mine," replied sandy. "that's the old, old story!" exclaimed the fat man. "i don't know that i ever knew of a mine that wasn't haunted, either by ghosts or robbers! mysteries seem to breed in coal mines!" sandy walked back to the place where, he had left elmer, and the three men and their guide followed him. when elmer caught a view of the fat man's face and figure, he gave a sharp pull at sandy's sleeve. "that's stephen carson!" he said. "i guess i'd better keep out of sight, because i don't care about getting into an argument with him. he's the most contrary person i ever saw in my life, and never fails to get up an argument about something or other with yours truly." "you seem to know him pretty well," whispered sandy. "i ought to," returned elmer, "he's my uncle!" "the two tall men in the party are my father and the cashier of the night and day bank. i'll take a sneak, and that will shorten the session." accordingly, elmer strolled along the gangway and came to a halt some distance from where the three men had drawn up. "my boy" carson went on, looking condescendingly at the youth, "will you kindly run up to the second level and tell mr. canfield that his presence is required by the president of the mining company?" "i'm not allowed to leave this place, sir," replied sandy, taking offense at the man's air of proprietorship. "all persons in and about this mine," carson almost shouted, "are subject to my orders. run along now, you foolish boy, and don't make any trouble for yourself!" the man's manner was so unnecessarily dictatorial and offensive that sandy found it impossible to restrain his temper. he was not naturally a "fresh" youngster, but now he had passed the limit of endurance. "aw, go chase yourself!" he said. "you're discharged!" shouted carson. "you didn't hire me!" retorted sandy. "you haven't got any right to discharge me! i'm going to stay here until i get ready to leave!" "if you don't get out of the mine immediately, i'll have you thrown out!" shouted carson. "i never saw such impudence!" "if i do get out," replied sandy with a grin, "you'll wish i hadn't!" carson turned to elmer's father and the bank cashier, and the three consulted together for a short time. then elmer's father came closer to where sandy was standing. "why do you say that?" he asked. "why do you think we will wish you had remained in case you are sent out of the mine?" "because i was left here to prevent robbers getting out of the gangway. they're further in, and have captured three of my chums." "all nonsense!" shouted mr. carson breaking into the conversation impatiently. "these breaker boys never tell the truth!" "are you mr. buck?" asked sandy, speaking an undertone to elmer's father. "because if you are, you'll find elmer just a short distance ahead. he's on guard, too. he didn't want his uncle to recognize him, because he says he's always getting up an argument with him." "i'm glad to know that elmer is attending to his duty," mr. buck answered. "somehow," he continued with a smile, "stephen carson always rubs elmer the wrong way of the grain." "what's he butting in here for?" asked sandy, while the cashier of the night and day bank and the miner stood by waiting for the peace negotiations to conclude. "why, he came in to get his two hundred thousand." replied mr. buck. "he thinks he knows now right where he left it." "does he often get foolish in the head like that?" asked sandy with a grin. "if he does, he ought to hire a couple of detectives to keep track of him when he is wandering out in the night!" "oh, stephen is usually a pretty level-headed sort of a fellow!" replied mr. buck. "he is out of humor just now because he has always denied that he visited the mine during his two weeks of absence. he is one of the men who dislike very much to be caught in an error of any kind." "so he knows where the money is?" asked sandy. "he says he can find it if he can secure the services of canfield, the caretaker. he remembers now of getting in the mine, and of hearing footsteps in the darkness. his impression at that time was that robbers had followed him in, so he unloaded the banknotes in a small chamber which he is now able to describe accurately but which he cannot, of course, find." "was the money hidden on this level?" asked sandy. "yes, on this level." "in this gangway?" "he thinks it was hidden here." "right about here, or further on?" "right about here," was the answer, "he seems to remember something about tunnel six. he thinks he hid the money there! as soon as he finds canfield, the caretaker will probably be able to tell him exactly how tunnel six looks." "it looks all in a mess right now! i can tell you that," grinned sandy. "what do you mean by that?" "i mean that there's been doings here!" replied sandy. "are there really robbers in there?" "sure, there are robbers in there!" "then perhaps we'd better bring in a squad of deputies." "if you'll just let us boys alone," sandy said, "we'll bring the money out if it's anywhere in the mine, but if this man carson goes to butting in at this time, he'll have to dig out his own money. he won't believe there's any robbers in there, and he wants to fire me out of the mine, so i guess we'd better let him go his own gait a little while." "he'll do that anyhow no matter what you say!" replied mr. buck. "look here!" shouted carson, starting forward with his stomach out and his fat shoulders thrown back, "what's all this conversation about? why don't some one go up and get canfield, and why isn't that young rowdy thrown out of the mine? i won't have him in here!" "say," sandy broke in, "mr. buck says that you're looking for tunnel six. if you are, i can show you right where it is!" "do so, then!" shouted carson. "go straight ahead," sandy directed, "and when the robbers begin to shoot, you command them to throw down their weapons in the name of the law! they'll probably do it, all right, if you tell them to but you'll be lucky if they don't throw them down your throat!" "do you mean to tell me," screamed carson, "that there are actually robbers here, and that they have taken possession of tunnel six?" "that's the idea," replied sandy. "why, that's where i put my--" "that's where you put your money, is it?" sandy went on. "i never saw such impudence!" roared carson. "well, go on and get your money!" advised sandy. "just go straight down the gangway until you come to a face of rock and then switch off to the left, and you'll find yourself in a chamber used at present by robbers and hold-up men as a winter resort." "oh you can't frighten me!" declared carson. "i believe that you're here in quest of the money yourself!" "that's right!" admitted sandy. "go on in, now, and tell the robbers to give up your hoarded gold! just butt in, and tell 'em what you want them to do! they'll probably do just as you tell them to!" "i never saw such imprudence in my life!" roared carson, wiping his perspiring forehead with a large red silk handkerchief. "i don't see where the impudence comes in!" replied sandy. "you said you wanted to find tunnel number six in order that you might locate your money. i'm telling you where it is, and what to do to get it!" "old stephen never took a bluff in his life!" chuckled mr. buck. "now see if he doesn't go stalking down that passage and declaring himself in the name of the law!" the banker did exactly what mr. buck had predicted. he went storming down the passage, giving notice to all intruders to walk out of his mine in a peaceable manner. mr. buck followed along until he came to where elmer was standing with his back against the wall, and then the two paused and entered into conversation. the cashier of the night and day bank and the miner started back toward the shaft. "what's the matter?" shouted sandy. "why don't you stay and see the fun? there'll be shooting here directly!" the miner and the cashier now took to their heels and were soon of out of sight. every moment the boy expected to see a flash of fire in the gangway. carson was now very near to tunnel six, and it seemed certain that the outlaws must soon open fire on him. "come back, stephen!" shouted mr. buck. "don't make a fool of yourself!" "this is all pure bluff!" shouted carson. "there are no robbers here at all. this is a scheme to keep me out of tunnel six, where i believe my money to be hidden!" they saw carson halt in his rather clumsy passage down the gangway, and draw an automatic from his pocket. there was a quick shot and the banker rushed ahead! chapter xxi "i told you so!" directly elmer, sandy and mr. buck heard the banker shouting at the top of his lungs and dashed on toward the mysterious tunnel. "he'll get his head shot off in there!" exclaimed sandy. "i don't care if he does!" declared elmer. "your uncle isn't such a bad old fellow, after all," mr. buck exclaimed. "he has plenty of courage, at any rate!" "but i don't understand why they don't open fire on him!" exclaimed sandy. "the robbers certainly were in there not very long ago. we heard the scuffle when they geezled jimmie." "who fired that shot?" asked mr. buck. "uncle stephen did," replied elmer. "i saw the flash spring out from the spot where he stood!" "well, what do you know about that?" exclaimed sandy. "the old chap is actually making his bluff good! he's getting into tunnel six single handed and alone! i guess we'll have to advertise for those three outlaws if we find 'em in here! he's a nervy old follow, isn't he?" the three now followed fast on the heels of the banker, and soon came to where he stood swinging his searchlight at the end of a short drift which ended, after sliding under a dip, in a chamber which, at first glance seemed to be piled high with a with a mass of shale. while the three looked on, carson dropped on his knees beside a crevice in the wall and began an eager exploration of the opening. directly he sprang to his feet with rage and disappointment showing on every feature of his face. he raved about the cluttered chamber for a moment, almost dancing up and down in his anger and chagrin, and then sat limply down on the pile of shale. "it's gone!" he said. "the money's gone!" "so it wasn't hidden back there in that cross cutting at all?" asked sandy. "we thought sure we had a cinch on the coin several hours ago!" "it was hidden here in this chamber!" declared carson wearily. "the minute i entered the place i remembered where i had hidden it. and now it's gone! i've had all my trouble for nothing." as he ceased speaking, he glanced suspiciously at sandy. and sandy, in turn, made a most provoking face. "i believe you know something about my money!" carson said. "sure i do!" replied sandy. "then where is it?" "the robbers got it!" "that's a nice story to tell," howled carson. "if you think i'm going to be defrauded out of my money in this way, you're very much mistaken!" without paying any further attention to the threats of the banker, sandy stepped over to elmer's, side and pointed up the deserted shaft. "there's where the robbers went," he said, "and they doubtless took carson's money with them. i don't understand why will didn't stop them." "will and george probably released their friends and went away," complained elmer. "i don't think they showed very good judgment in doing that, either. the result is that the money has disappeared entirely. a short time ago, uncle might have reclaimed it." "we don't know whether the money has gone beyond recall or not," replied sandy. "i don't believe will and george ever left the old shaft unguarded. they are still somewhere in this vicinity!" carson now blustered up to sandy and pointed an accusing finger into the lad's face. sandy regarded him with indifference. "now that your story of the robbers has been disproved," carson shouted, "you may as well tell me who took my money. if i had not the courage to make this investigation in person, that cheap story of the robbers would have held good for all time!" "that's a horse on me, all right!" admitted sandy. "i don't know where the robbers are, unless they went up through that old shaft, and it doesn't seem as if the boys would permit that!" "too thin! entirely too thin!" declared carson. "a moment ago you tried to tell me that the money wasn't hidden near tunnel six at all, but was hidden back there near the cross-cutting." "we had good reason to believe it was hidden there!" replied sandy. "we found a burned ten dollar banknote there just after a dynamite explosion had taken place." "that would naturally lead to the supposition that the money had been hidden there!" mr. buck exclaimed. "come to think of it," sandy went on, "i believe that was one of ventner's tricks. i believe he blew down those pillars and burned the banknote for the express purpose of making us search two or three weeks in the wrong place. i guess we have underestimated that fellow's ability. he's a keener man than i supposed!" "i don't quite see the point to that," elmer suggested. "when you say that ventner probably caused you to dig in the wrong place, you admit that he must have known something about the right place. now, how could he have known anything about where to look for that money?" "i don't know," replied sandy. "but when you say that he might have known exactly where to look, you set him down as a fool, because he has been searching a long time and never came upon it until today." "i think i can understand that," mr. buck said. "this man you speak of probably knew where to find the money provided he could discover the right drift, bench, chamber or tunnel. like mr. carson, here, he could doubtless go straight to the cache if directed into the right apartment." while the four stood together at the bottom of the chamber, their searchlights making the place as light as day, an exclamation came from the shaft above, followed by two pistol shots. carson dropped to his knees and began twisting at his automatic, which had in some way become entangled in the lining of his pocket. "there are your robbers!" he shouted. "put out your lights!" "don't you do anything of the kind!" argued sandy. "get out of range of the old shaft and keep your lights burning so you can shoot any one who drops down! i guess we have them hemmed in!" "it's a scheme to get away with my money!" shouted carson. "i wish you had your old money chucked down your throat!" exclaimed sandy. "i'm getting sick of the sound of the word!" all members of the party now drew back toward the dip, where they were entirely concealed from any one in the old shaft. directly there was a rattling of shale and slate, and then the lights showed the figure of tommy sitting astride the peak of the pyramid. "what are you fellows trying to do down there?" he asked. "we're looking for carson's money?" replied sandy. "did you get it?" the boy demanded. "not yet!" "that's the boy that's got my money!" shouted the banker. "money's a good thing to have!" grinned tommy. "what have you done with the highwaymen?" asked sandy. "why continue this senseless talk about highwaymen?" demanded carson, "when you know just as well as i do that there are no robbers here other than yourselves! mr. buck," he added, turning to elmer's father, "i call upon you to assist me in restraining these robbers until the proper officers can be summoned." "where did that fat man come from?" asked tommy. "you impertinent rascal!" shouted carson. "sure!" answered tommy. "but where did you say you came from?" "i'm president of this mining company!" screamed carson, "and i'll have you all in jail if you don't produce my money!" "is this the gentleman who went batty and lost two hundred thousand dollars?" asked tommy, sliding down from the slate pyramid and standing beside sandy. "that is believed to be the man!" laughed sandy. "believed to be!" roared carson. "does he know where he left the money?" asked tommy. "sure i know where i left my money, you young jackanapes!" declared carson. "i pointed out the exact hiding place only a few moments ago!" "you found it empty?" "yes, i found it empty!" roared carson. "then," tommy suggested, "we've all got to get busy." "what do you mean by that?" demanded carson. before tommy could reply, will came sliding down the rope and landed within a few feet of where the little group stood. "look here, will," tommy said, "are you sure we made a good search of those three ginks? they've got the money all right!" "how do you know they did?" demanded will. "that fat man over there who looks as if he was about to bust," tommy grinned, "is mr. carson, the man who hid the money and couldn't find it again. he's just been looking in the place where he concealed it, and it isn't there! we've got to get busy!" "i don't understand this at all," mr. buck interrupted. "it's just this way," will said, facing the speaker, "we caught the three men who were wandering about in the mine. we rescued our chums first, and then when the outlaws heard your party advancing they scrambled up the old shaft and took to their heels supposing, of course, that we had lost no time in getting out of the mine." "and you geezled them all?" asked sandy. "the whole three!" replied will. "all we had to do was to stretch a rope across a passage, trip them up, and do a little winding around their graceful forms before they could catch their breath. they are all tied up good and tight now." "and you searched them for the money and didn't find it?" shouted carson. "and we searched them for the money and didn't find it!" repeated will. "i don't believe it!" shouted carson. "you'll be telling me in a moment, when i ask you to produce your robbers, that they have broken their bonds and escaped!" at that moment, george's voice was heard calling down the shaft: "break for the main shaft!" they heard him saying. "head those fellows off. they cut their ropes and got away!" "i told you so!" thundered carson. chapter xxii conclusion "bright boys up there!" exclaimed will, as the unwelcome news of the escape of the robbers came down the old shaft. "me for the elevator?" shouted tommy. all four boys, will, elmer, tommy and sandy started in a mad race down the gangway. as they carried their searchlights with them, and as mr. carson and mr. buck moved at a slower pace, the latter gentlemen were soon feeling their way through the dark tunnel. "we've just got to head 'em off!" grunted tommy as the boys passed along at a pace calculated to break the long distance running records. "i don't believe they'll make for the main shaft anyway," sandy panted. "i don't believe they will, either," will declared, "but if we get to the lift first, we'll be dead sure they don't got out!" will was in advance as they swung into the lighted space about the shaft. the first thing be observed was that one of the cages was just starting upward. he sprang to the push button and almost instantly the cage dropped back to the third level again. the power was on in honor of the visit of the president of the company. "pile in, boys!" he shouted. "we'll stop at the second level!" the man at the top responded nobly to the quick signals given to start and stop, and in a very short space of time the elevator stood at the second level. the bar was down, but will threw it aside and stepped out into the passage. there he saw the bank cashier and the miner standing cowering against the wall only a few feet from the shaft. "what are you doing here?" asked will. "we started to the top," the miner replied, "but stopped here because we thought there might be need of our assistance on this level." "why on this level?" asked will, observing that the miner was pretty thoroughly frightened. "i haven't heard of any disturbance here!" "but there has been a disturbance here!" insisted the cashier. "we heard scuffling out there in the darkness, but as we had no lights, we could not investigate. my friend, the miner, had a light on the lower level, but he lost it as we made our way out to the shaft." "has any one passed up the shaft?" asked will. the miner shook his head. "then we're on time all right!" cried will exultantly. "we have the outlaws headed off!" the heavy voices of the two men who had been left on the lower level now came rumbling up the shaft. "what do you mean by leaving us in this plight?" demanded carson. "lower the cage and take us to the top!" "stay down there and look after your money!" cried sandy, mockingly. "i think i know where my money is!" shouted carson. "i wish i knew!" returned sandy. in the moment of silence which followed, the boys instantly and heard the call of the beaver patrol ringing down the second level. "george seems to be alive anyway!" laughed tommy. a moment later a snarling sound which seemed to emanate from a whole pack of wolves reached the ears of the boys. "why didn't you tell me there were wild animals in the mine?" shouted the cashier. "let me into that cage immediately!" "don't be in a hurry," advised tommy. "all the wolves and beavers you'll find in here won't do you any harm!" while carson and elmer's father continued to call from below, and while the boy scout challenges rang in the second level, two pistol shots were heard not far away from the shaft. the cashier and the miner both broke for the cage, but were turned back at the point of sandy's automatic revolver. "you stopped here because you though you might be of some assistance, you know," the boy said. "now you just remain here long enough to help out." "but there are people being murdered in there!" cried the cashier. two more shots came from the gangway and then the stout figure of the detective came staggering into the circle of light around the shaft. he had evidently been wounded seriously, for he fell as he drew near to where the boys were standing and raised his eyes in a piteous appeal for help. will stooped over and felt of his pulse. "you're about done for!" the boy said in a husky tone. "who did it?" "those two hold-up men," was the faint reply. "where are they now?" asked will. "i fired back," replied the detective wit a grim smile, "and i guess they're lying on the floor of the passage!" will bent closer over the wounded detective while tommy and sandy started down the gangway on a run, closely followed by elmer. "why did they shoot you?" asked will. "i found the money," ventner replied, "and hid it in a crevice in the wall, and they found it. when we managed to escape by cutting the ropes i saw them take the money and disappear in the darkness. i followed on and accused them of the act and they shot me! then i shot back, and i guess it's a pretty bad mess, when you take it altogether!" "where is the money?" asked will. "they have it in their possession," was the reply, "if they haven't hidden it again." before the wounded detective could continue, george, jimmie, dick, canfield, sandy and tommy came running out of the gangway. "where's elmer?" asked will. "we left him back there talking with one of the hold-up men," replied george. "they're both badly hurt, and won't last long!" "i'm not sorry!" moaned ventner. a moment later, elmer came out of the passage with a bill-book of good size in his hand. he lifted the book gaily as he entered the illumination. "i'll bet he's got the money!" exclaimed tommy. "sure he has!" replied will, and elmer nodded. the voices of carson and buck again came roaring up from below. "why don't you lower the cage?" carson shouted. "i'm going to have every one of you arrested as soon as i find an officer! you can't work any of your gold brick schemes on me!" "we may as well drop down and take them aboard," laughed will. carson was swelling with rage when he step onto the platform of the list. he shook his fiercely under will's nose, and announced that would have him wearing handcuffs before night. "how much reward was offered for the return that two hundred thousand dollars?" asked the boy without paying any attention to the angry demonstrations of the banker. "twenty thousand dollars!" replied carson. "but you'll never get a cent of it. i hired a party of boy scouts to come here from chicago and look into the case, but they never came near me." "when you write to chicago again," will replied with a smile as the elevator stopped at the second level, "just tell mr. horton that the beaver's didn't succeed in getting the money, but that the wolves did. elmer has the money in his possession this minute!" "impossible!" shouted carson. "hand him the money, elmer," requested will. carson snatched the bill book as it was held out to him and began looking through the ten thousand dollar banknotes which it contained. "the next time you get drunk and fall out of your machine, don't accuse every one you meet of robbing you!" sandy cut in. "are you the boys who came on from chicago?" demanded carson. "sure," replied will. "i guess i'm an old fool!" admitted carson. "here i've been roaming around about half a day accusing you boys of stealing my money, when all the time you were planning on returning it to me!" "do we get the reward now?" asked will. "twenty thousand and expenses!" replied carson. "i'll settle with elmer and his chums later." "it's a shame to take the money!" declared sandy, but will gave him a sharp punch in the back and he cut off any further remarks which he might have had in his mind. the story ends here because the adventure ended with the finding of the money. the old tool house was deserted that night. the two hold-up men and the detective recovered after a long illness in a pittsburgh hospital. the detective was permitted to go his way after promising to keep out of crooked detective deals in the future. he never told how or where he received his information about the lost money. the hold-up men were given long sentences in prison. a few weeks later, when the mining company resumed operations at the labyrinth, tunnel six was walled up. mr. carson, the president, declared that it made what few hairs he had left stand on end to think of the experiences he had endured there! however, there are still stories about the breaker, that on dark, nights, when the wind blows, and the rain falls in great sheets, there are mysterious lights floating about tunnel six. jimmie and dick often tell exactly how these lights were made and how they enjoyed themselves down in the bowels of the earth, but superstitious miners still claim that the boys were not responsible for all the lights which burned there! dick and jimmie also have their joke with the beaver patrol boys whenever they meet, declared that if they had not finally relented and dropped the string the boys had carried into the mine for their own protection, they would still be wandering around in the labyrinth mine. "and now," will said as they settled down in their old room on washington boulevard, "we going to be good boys from this time on and remain in chicago and stay at home nights!" however, in three days, the boys were preparing for another bit of adventure, the details of which will be found in the next volume of this, series entitled: "boy scouts in alaska; or, the camp on glacier." the end [illustration: "can we make the pond, jim?" asked thad. "not the big pond," jim called back; "but there's a little one about half way." _the boy scouts in the maine woods_ _page _] the boy scouts in the maine woods or the new test for the silver fox patrol by herbert carter author of "the boy scouts first camp fire," "the boy scouts in the blue ridge," "the boy scouts on the trail," "the boy scouts through the big timber," "the boy scouts in the rockies" a. l. burt company new york copyright, by a. l. burt company the boy scouts in the maine woods. the boy scouts in the maine woods chapter i. afloat on the winding aroostook. "i tell you, bumpus hawtree, i can do it as easy as turn my hand over, once i get the hang of the thing!" "oh! you don't say so, giraffe? here you've been trying for these three days past, with your silly old bow and stick, twirling away like an organ grinder; and never so much as struck a single spark of fire yet." "well, you see, there are a whole lot of things about the thing i don't know." "sure there are. you can do everything but the right thing. you spin that stick with the point that fits in the hole you made in that block of wood, like fun; but your fine tinder don't even smoke, as far as i can see." "huh! you'll see it do more than that, and before the end of this maine trip, i'll give you to understand, bumpus." "oh! will i? how kind of you, giraffe." "you needn't say that like you didn't believe i'd ever beat it out. i've made fires ten different ways, and you know that. and listen to me--i'm just bound to get one going in that south sea island method we've read about, 'or give up trying!' you hear me, bumpus?" "no trouble about that, giraffe. tell you what i'll do, though, in the generosity of my heart--make a wager with you about that fire business; and it's a treat of ice-cream for the crowd, for the loser." "i take you on that," quickly snapped back the long-legged boy scout who was curled up in the stern of the canvas canoe that was being pushed along by the energetic arms of a sturdy guide, as straight as his name was the opposite, it being eli crooks. "then let's have a clear understanding," observed the fat lad, squatting rather awkwardly in the bow of the same craft; "say, you other fellows, d'ye hear what we're talking about?" and he raised his voice a trifle, so that the occupants of the two other boats that were close by, might listen; just as if they had not been keeping their ears wide open; for when bumpus and giraffe got into a hot argument, there was generally plenty of fun in the air. one of the other canoes contained three scouts, as could be told from various parts of their khaki uniforms that they wore, even when off on a hunting trip. the clear-eyed fellow who seemed to be in charge of the party was thad brewster; one of his companions was known as step hen bingham, because, as a little chap he had insisted at school that was the way his name should be spelled, while the third was an exceedingly wiry boy, davy jones by name, and who had always been a human monkey when it came to athletics, climbing trees, and doing all sorts of queer stunts. in the third boat was a shorter maine guide, a sort of slow chap who came by the name of jim hasty just as the other did that of crooks; and the scout with him was allan hollister, a lad born in the very state they were now exploring; and who assisted the scoutmaster in his duties. all these six boys belonged to the silver fox patrol connected with a troop of scouts located in a new york town called cranford. two more had been unable to take the maine trip, which had already carried the bunch through some adventurous times in another part of the state, whither they had first gone in order to overtake a gentleman just then moose hunting, and with whom thad had to get in touch for certain business reasons. now they were on the aroostook river, the three boats, as well as the party, having been transported from grindstone by rail, and launched at the junction of the masardis with the first mentioned stream. one of the guides having been brought up in this region, had promised the boys rare sport, if only they would trust to his judgment in the matter. the trip was of indefinite length, the only stipulation being that they should not go outside the united states, when approaching the new brunswick border along the great st. johns river. all of them seemed to be just bubbling over with enthusiasm and spirits. with a new voyage before them, plenty to eat aboard the canoes, guns with which to secure game, tents provided by jim hasty at his home town; and "everything lovely, while the goose hung high," as bumpus had put it, really there was no excuse for any of the scouts to feel downcast. in their former trip around the penobscot region the boys had had the good fortune to be chiefly instrumental in causing the arrest of a couple of fleeing yeggmen, who had broken into several banks, and for whose arrest quite a decent reward was offered. not only that, but they had recovered valuable bonds and papers, that would undoubtedly cause the bank officials to back up the offer they had made, which was to the effect that two thousand dollars would be paid to the parties returning the said bonds, and no questions asked. bumpus had been the one who seemed chiefly concerned over this money matter; for it happened that the fat scout wanted dearly to visit the far west, and was always talking of california, together with the game to be met with in the famous rock mountains. and with this windfall coming to their almost exhausted treasure box, it now seemed as though the silver fox patrol might get away when the next vacation came around. giraffe, the boy with the long neck, which he could twist around in a way his comrades despaired of ever imitating, had one particular weakness. he was a regular fire worshipper. they depended on giraffe to start the fires, whether a cooking blaze or the big camp-fire around which they loved to sit or lie, after supper was over. many times did thad have to caution him about his recklessness in this regard; and his vigilance increased, now that they were in a state where forest preservation was of such moment that a special fire warden, with many assistants, was employed, to see that the laws were strictly enforced; and intending hunters were not allowed to go forth without being accompanied by a licensed guide, to make sure that all fires were utterly extinguished before breaking camp. of course, when giraffe took it upon himself to find out if he could not make a fire after every known method, there was more or less fun for the crowd. but he had proved that his studies in this direction were worth while; for he had used flint and steel, matches, a burning glass for the sun to do the business, and various other methods with stunning success. but he had thus far been "stumped" as he himself expressed it, when it came to starting a blaze after the formula of the south sea islanders. his little bow was made according to directions, and would whirl the pointed stick with tremendous force in the basin that had the hole in the bottom; but thus far, just as bumpus so exultantly declared, the aspiring giraffe had failed to accomplish the object he had in view. "well, now," remarked giraffe, "since you've got all the bears and moose in the aroostook country to listen, suppose you go and explain what we're driving at, bumpus," when the other boys had declared that they heard the whole argument. "the wager is cream for the crowd at the first chance," the fat boy went on, with pointed emphasis. "giraffe says he can start a fire with that bunty little bow of his, and the twirling stick that heats things up, and makes the fine tinder take fire--when you've got the hang of things. he's got to do it before we wind up this particular trip; and at a time when one or more of us are on deck to act as witnesses. hear that, fellows?" "what he says are the exact conditions," added the confident giraffe. "and just make up your minds i'm going to do that same stunt yet. why, half a dozen times already i've been pretty close to getting fire; but something always seemed to happen just at the last minute. once my bowstring sawed through. another time the plaguey stick burst. then bumpus had to fall all over me just when i felt sure the spark was going to come in the tinder. and the last time, you may remember, when i sang out that i had it, why, down came that heavy rain, and put me out of business." a general laugh followed these complaining remarks from the tall scout. "looks like you might be hoodooed, giraffe," said davy jones. "all right, no matter what's the matter, if grit and perseverance can accomplish the business, you'll see it done in great style sooner or later!" cried giraffe, who could be quite determined when he chose. "then let's hope it will be sooner," remarked step hen; "because you know him well enough to understand that we'll have no peace of our lives till he either gets his little fire started, or else makes a failure of the game." "anyhow," broke in allan from the rear, "no matter how it comes out, the rest of us stand to have a free feast later on. it's 'heads i win, tails you lose,' for the balance of the silver fox patrol. and in advance, we hand our united thanks to bumpus; or will it be giraffe?" "and," bumpus went on, calmly; "while giraffe is worrying his poor old head over that puzzle every time we get settled in camp, i'll be improving each shining hour like the busy little bee, trying out my new gun. told you fellows, i was going to invest the first chance i got; and here's my brand new double barrel; that's guaranteed, the man said, to knock the spots out of any big game that i hold it on." "huh!" grunted giraffe, who seemed a trifle grumpy on account of having his fire-making abilities made fun of, for he was quite touchy on that score; "chances are, it'll knock spots out of you, first of all, or give you a few to remember it by, if you go and get excited, and pull both triggers at once, as you're likely to do, if i know you at all, bumpus." "what in the wide world did you go and get a big ten bore for, when you're such a short fellow?" asked thad, who had often wanted to find out about this particular subject. bumpus, who was fondling his new possession, grinned rather sheepishly. "well," he remarked, "you see, thad's marlin, and davy's gun are both twelve guage, and i thought we ought to have variety in the crowd, so i got a ducking gun. besides, i knew it would be better when i came to shoot buckshot in it, just like i've got in the chambers right now, ready for any old moose bull that chooses to show up. and in fact, fellows, it was the only sort of shotgun i could buy, unless i took one of them pump guns; and i just couldn't think of working all that machinery when i get so rattled, you know." "please keep that blunderbuss pointed the other way, bumpus," said step hen. "yes, for goodness' sake don't you turn it around here!" called out giraffe. "if ever you blew a hole in the bottom of this canvas canoe, we'd go down like a stone." "i'd be sorry for that," remarked bumpus, still fondling his new purchase lovingly, although he kept it pointed ahead, as directed; "because, you see, we've got a lot of good grub aboard this canoe, and it might get soaked." "huh! thinking of the grub before you take me into consideration, are you?" grunted giraffe; and perhaps he might have said more, only just at that instant eli turned his head and made a remark to him which caused the long-necked boy to lift his head, and then shout out excitedly: "a bear! a bear! over there on the bank ahead!" "oh! where did i put my gun?" almost shrieked step hen, who was forever misplacing things, and then finding them again in the most unexpected places. "bumpus, knock him over! there's the best chance to try your new gun you ever saw! let him have it, you silly!" roared giraffe. the fat boy heard all the clamor. he also sighted the lumbering bear, which, after taking one good look at the approaching canoes, turned to shuffle back again into the shelter of the protecting brush, as though he did not much fancy any closer acquaintance with the two-legged occupants. bumpus scrambled to his knees. he was trembling like a leaf shaken in the gale; but nevertheless managed to clumsily throw the double-barrel to his shoulder, after pulling back both hammers. they saw him bend his chubby neck, as though to sight along the barrels. then a tremendous explosion occurred, as though a young cannon had been fired; and the next instant bumpus went over flat on his back, among the duffle with which the canoe was loaded, his feet coming into view as he landed among the blankets, and the packages of food, secured in the rubber ponchos to keep them from getting wet. chapter ii. a warning from a game poacher. "did i g-g-get him?" bumpus, as he spoke these eager words, managed to gain a sitting position, though his first act was to rub his shoulder as though it pained him. there was a roar from all the boys at this remark, and indeed, even the two maine guides grinned more or less. "listen to the innocent, would you?" shouted giraffe; "when his buckshot tore up the water half way between the boat and the shore, till it looked just like one of those spouting geysers we read about, out in yellowstone park. did he get him, boys?" step hen put his hands to his mouth, megaphone fashion, and bawled out: "hey, answer that, mr. bear, please; let the poor boy know whether he tickled your tough old hide with one of his buckshot. because, who knows, fellows, but what it might a glanced off the top of the water, and landed," and he winked at allan, who was in the canoe with jim hasty close by. "i don't hear any answer floating back," remarked thad; "and so we'll have to believe that either the bear is lying there, stone dead, or else has skipped out to safe quarters. bears never can stand being fired at by cannon, they tell me." "cannon!" burst out giraffe at this moment, for he had managed to possess himself of the new gun by pointing to it, and having eli crooks pass it along. "cannon! well, i should smile! what d'ye think he did, fellers? just exactly what i warned him to beware of, when he saw game, and got excited; pulled both triggers at the same time! gee! no wonder it knocked him over! i'd hate to have been behind that charge myself; and i've stood a good many heavy ones." "ain't we going ashore to see if i did just happen to bowl that old bear over?" whined bumpus, looking appealingly at thad. "i'd never forgive myself, you see, if i found out that he _had_ died, and no one even got a steak off him. a scout never wants to waste the good things of life like that, does he, thad?" but the scoutmaster shook his head. "i guess there's no chance of that happening, bumpus," he remarked. "by now your bear is a quarter of a mile away from here, and running yet." "don't blame him," said step hen. "that new gun makes enough noise to burst your ear drums, bumpus. and let's hope you won't ever pull both triggers again. just practice putting one finger at a time in action. after you've shot the first barrel, let it just slip back to catch the second trigger. it's as easy as tumbling off a log." "or going over backward, when you do bang away with both barrels at once," added davy jones, wisely. as they were descending the river the work was comparatively easy for the two guides. they would have their business cut out for them later on, when their plan of campaign, looking toward reaching the eagle chain of lakes, was more fully developed. in the beginning there had been three of the paddlers in the party; but a telegram had caught them as they left the train, calling the oldtown indian, sebattis, home, on account of the serious sickness of his wife. thad was capable of assuming charge of one canoe, with the assistance of step hen and davy, both lusty fellows. and so they had not bothered trying to fill the gap at the last hour. the chances were that they might have had to take some fellow along who would turn out to be sullen, or else a shirk; thus spoiling much of their pleasure on the trip. these members of the silver fox patrol had reason to feel proud, because each one of them was at that time wearing a trifling little badge that proved their right to call themselves assistant fire wardens, employed by the great state of maine to forever keep an eye out for dangerous conflagrations, and labor to extinguish the same before they could do much damage. it had come about in this manner: on the train they had formed the acquaintance of a gentleman, who turned out to be the chief fire warden, on his way right then to patrol a certain district that nearly every year boasted of one or more severe fires. he was greatly interested in thad's account of the numerous things a boy scout aspired to do each day; and as it was his privilege to take on as many unpaid assistants as he chose, just as a sheriff may do in an emergency, the gentleman had with his own hands pinned a little badge on the lapel of each boy's coat. they were very proud of the honor, and expressed their intention of serving as fire-wardens to the best of their ability--all but giraffe. he used to shake his head every time he glanced down at his badge, and look solemn. the fact of the matter was, giraffe had all his life been so wrapped up in _starting_ fires, that the very idea of spending his precious time in helping to _put one out_ did not appeal to him very strongly. "jim is telling me that we can expect to see the mouth of the little machias river any old time from now on," remarked allan; "and while i haven't come up this way exactly, to the eagle waters, i guess he's about right." "sure he is," ventured giraffe, "for we passed the place where the big machias joins forces with the aroostook some time back; and unless my eagle eye fails me, away up ahead i can see the junction right now, where we turn to the left, and leave this dandy old stream. then the fun begins with the paddles." "what was that the fire-warden was saying to you, thad, about some sort of bad man up in this region, that gave the game wardens more trouble than all the rest of the poachers combined?" step hen asked. jim hasty was seen to squirm a little; and thad noticed this as he answered the question. "oh! yes, he was warning me to steer clear of one caleb martin, a strapping big fellow who used to be, first a logger, and then one of those men who get boats' knees out of the swamps and marshes up here; but who for some years has made up his mind to loaf, and take toll of other peoples' traps, or shoot game out of season." "caleb martin, eh?" step hen went on; "seems to me it was another name from that?" "well," thad continued, "he did mention two others who were said to be cronies of the big poacher. let's see, i believe their names were si kedge and ed harkness; wasn't that it, jim?" and he turned suddenly on the smaller guide. "that's right," answered the other, promptly; "though to be fair and squar' with you, i didn't hear him speakin' o' 'em atall. but i lived up hyar, yuh knows, an' cale, he's been akeepin' the hull kentry kinder riled a long time now. i'm hopin' we won't run a crost him any, an' that's a fact." "sounds like there wasn't much love lost between you and this same cale martin?" ventured thad. "they hain't," was the only thing jim would say; and thad knew there must be a story back of it, which he hoped later on to hear. "but why should the wardens be afraid of just three men, when they have the law on their side; that's what i'd like to know?" bumpus demanded. giraffe gave a scornful laugh. "the law don't count for a great deal away up in the wilderness, bumpus," he remarked, in a condescending way. "all sorts of things are done when men get away off in the maine woods. they laugh at the law, till they feel its hand on their shoulder, and see the face of a warden close to theirs. then p'raps they wilt. but this bully of the big woods has had a free hand up yonder so long, that he just thinks he's the boss of all creation. he needs takin' down, i reckon. and p'raps, if we happen to run across him, it might be the mission of the silver fox patrol to teach him a lesson. queerer things have happened, as we all know, looking back a little at our own experiences." "we don't want to brag," remarked thad. "perhaps the shoe would be on the other foot, and he might kick the lot of us out of his territory. but all the same, let's hope our trail won't cross that of cale martin." they were presently turning in to the left, and starting to ascend the little machias; a pretty stream, which some years back used to fairly teem with game-fish, but which, like many another river in maine, has felt the effect of the continual work of thousands of fishermen, and worse than that, the sly netting at the hands of lawless poachers. step hen was interested in many things that opened to their view as they went on, and his two companions did the paddling; for he had been working quite some time himself, and was entitled to a resting spell. this was a new trait in step hen. time had been when he would hardly notice a single thing when out in the woods, unless his attention was especially directed to it by a comrade. but it was so no longer; and the way his awakening came about, as mentioned in a previous story, is worthy of being recorded again, as showing what a trifling thing may start a boy to thinking, and observing the myriad of interesting events that are constantly occurring around him, no matter where he may happen to be at the time, in a crowded city, or alone in a vast solitude. step hen had once come upon a humble little tumble-bug, striving to push a ball four times as big as himself up a forlorn road, at a point where there was a "thank-you-mum," intended to throw the water aside during a heavy rain, and save the road from being guttered. he had grown so deeply interested in seeing the little creature try again and again to overcome the stupendous difficulties that faced it, that he lay there for half an hour, watching; clapping his hands when he thought success had come, and feeling deeply sorry when a slip caused the ball to roll back again, often upsetting the bug, and passing over its body. the astonishing pluck of the humble little bug had aroused the admiration of the boy; and in the end he had picked up both ball and bug, and placed them safely above the baffling ascent in the road. and after that hour step hen awoke to the fact that an observing boy need never lack for something intensely interesting to chain his attention, no matter where he might be. all he had to do was to keep his eyes open, and look. nature had ten thousand deeply interesting and curious things that appeal to the one who knows how to enjoy them. and so from that day step hen was noticed to be eagerly on the watch for new sights. he asked many questions that proved his mind had awakened; and thad knew that that half hour when the scout had lain alongside the mountain road down in north carolina, had possibly been the turning point in his career; for he would never again be the same old careless, indifferent step hen of the past. "there comes another canoe down the river!" suddenly cried bumpus, who was still squatting in the bow of the leading canoe, industriously rubbing his right shoulder as though it pained him considerably; a fact thad noticed, and which had caused him to promise that he would take a look at the lame part when they stopped for their midday meal, very soon now. there was only one man in the canoe that was approaching, and presently jim hasty remarked that he knew him. "it's sure hen parry, from up where i used to hold out," he went on to say; and then called out to the approaching maine guide, as his make-up pronounced the other to be; "hullo, hen, howd'ye? glad tuh see yuh. come closer, and shake hands. how's everybody up to the old place?" the other dark-faced fellow seemed pleased to his old friend, and immediately gripped the extended hand. "guess ther putty well up thar, jim; an' no need o' my askin' how ye be'n, 'cause yer lookin' prime," he remarked; and then suddenly an expression akin to dismay flashed across his weather-beaten face, as he continued: "by the same token i got er message fur ye, jim, in case i run up agin ye on my way down to squawpan, where i gotter meet a party that's bound up huntin'. ye won't like to hear it, neither, i kinder guess, 'cause it's from a feller ye got no use for." "cale martin?" burst involuntarily from the lips of jim hasty, while his face turned a shade whiter under its coat of tan. "ther same critter," hen went on. "he's still runnin' things to suit hisself up thar around the eagle chain, an' larfin' at all ther game wardens in aroostook county ter stop him ahavin' his way." "why should he tell yuh anything tuh say tuh me; an' how'd he know i was acomin' up this aways?" asked jim, firmly. "he sez as how he heerd thet you was agoin' to bring a pack o' boys along up to the eagles; p'raps it kim in a letter he hed from somebody, i don't know jest how thet mout be; but he seemed to know it, all right, jim. sez he to me, 'hen, ef ye happens to run acrost thet thar measly little skunk what sails by the name o' jim hasty, jest you tell him fur me thet if he dares to put his foot up hyar in _my_ deestrick, i'm bound to pin his ears to a tree, and leave 'em thar to give him a lesson.' an' jim, i guess from the look he had on thet black face ob his'n when he says thet, cale meant it, every blessed word. and if 'twas me, i'd feel like turnin' back, to take my people another way." thad fixed his eyes on jim's face to see how the shorter guide took it. he realized that jim was at least no coward, even though he might fear the wrath of such a forest bully as the ex-logger, and present lawless poacher cale martin; for he had shut his teeth hard together, and there was a grim expression on his face, as if he did not mean to knuckle under to any such base threat as that. chapter iii. the maker of fires. "how about that, jim; must we turn around, and go back, just because this feller that thinks he owns the whole north of maine, says so?" asked giraffe; who was really a fearless sort of lad, and could not bear to be ordered around by a bully. jim was looking a little "peaked," nor could thad blame him, after hearing what a terror this caleb martin had been in the community for years; and how even the officers of the law had never as yet dared arrest him, even though there were rewards out for each one of the three men. "naw, we don't turn back, if i knows it," said jim, doggedly. "bully for you, jim!" exclaimed step hen, eagerly. "there's eight of us, all told, in the party, and i think for my part that it's a pretty howd'yedo now if we can't stand up for our rights against just three cowards. i call them that because all bullies are, when you come right down to it. my father says so; and i've seen it among the boys in school." "yes, jim," remarked bumpus, with a grand air, though he immediately made a grimace, as a quick movement gave his sore shoulder a wrench; "we're going to stand by you, through thick and thin, ain't we, fellers?" "eight guns in the crowd!" remarked davy jones with an air of confidence. "sure we ought to hold the fort, and then some, if deadly weapons count for anything up here, and i'm told they do. p'raps, instead of pinning your ears to a tree, jim, this same mister cale'll consent to walk back with us, and give himself up to a game warden of the great and glorious state of maine. we mustn't forget that we're all sworn-in officers of the said state, and bound to assist any game warden who is trying to do his duty, and earn his salary." presently the other guide said good-bye, and turning his canoe down-stream, shot away with the current; while the scouts headed up further toward the wilderness that lay around the country of the eagle chain of lakes, close to the northern border of the state. they landed presently to have a bite at noon. thad took advantage of the opportunity to look at bumpus' shoulder. as he anticipated, he found that there was quite an ugly black-and-blue bruise there, which would cause the boy considerable pain for several days; though he declared that nothing was going to keep him from practicing with his new gun, which seemed like a toy in the hands of a child. "i'm sure you could not have held the butt close against your shoulder when you fired," thad ventured, as his opinion. "that's just what," admitted the other, with a sigh. "know better next time, though, thad; and thank you for making it feel easier. but i wish i'd got that bear. how fine it would be to eat steak from a big bear i'd killed with the first shot from my new gun." "make that plural, bumpus, for you fired _both_ barrels, remember," laughed thad. they were soon on the move again, and pushing steadily up against the current of the little machias. an hour or two passed. the air was not nipping cold at this time of the day; but as the season was now considerably advanced they expected to meet with considerable frost, and even some ice, before coming back once more to the home town. lest the reader who has not made the acquaintance of the boy scouts in the previous volume, should think it strange that these six lads were able to be away from their school duties for such a length of time at this season of the year, it may be best to enter a little explanation right here. an unfortunate epidemic of contagious sickness had broken out in cranford, and as a number of the scholars of the school were affected, the trustees had reluctantly decided that the session between early fall and new years must be abandoned. if all were well at the later date, after the usual holidays, school would be resumed. but the health of the community demanded that the boys and girls be separated for the time being. just then thad's guardian, a genial old man who was known far and wide as "daddy," brewster, found that he had urgent need of communicating with a gentleman by the name of carson, who had recently gone up into maine on his annual moose hunt in the big game country. as he might not come out before january, and the necessity of giving him certain documents was great, thad had been asked to make the trip. they had long been counting on a chance to visit the home country of their maine fellow scout, allan hollister; and most of the scouts eagerly seized on this opportunity to carry out the project, though two of the patrol were unable to be along. and so they were now in a condition to thoroughly enjoy the outing, since thad had carried out his mission, and given the papers into the keeping of mr. carson; receiving a message in return which he had wired to the old gentleman when in touch with a telegraph station. thad himself had believed that there was not the slightest cloud along the horizon; and now that this cale martin business had cropped up, he began to realize that after all it might not be such clear sailing as they had figured on. still, thad was not the one to borrow trouble, though ready to grapple with it in any shape or manner, once it found them out. they camped early on that night, because all of them were a little tired; and the location on the shore looked especially fine. "hey, look at what giraffe's going to do!" exclaimed bumpus, after they had carried part of their things ashore, and were busily engaged in putting up the two big tents supplied by jim hasty from his camp stores, such as all maine guides delight to possess. "why, ain't it a part of my business to start the fire every time?" demanded the party in question, who was on his knees; "didn't thad promise me that job if i'd keep on being careful about startin' fires every-which-way? i ain't had a blessed match on my person since i gave that promise, have i, thad? and what's wrong about my getting the blaze in my own way, tell me that, bumpus?" "but we want supper, and we don't mean to sit around here an hour or two, just watchin' you tinker with that silly old bow and stick, twirling away like you had to saw through to china. how about that, thad?" and bumpus turned appealingly toward the patrol leader, well knowing that whatever he said would go. "bumpus is right, giraffe," the other said, kindly but firmly. "you're welcome to spend all the time you want with that contraption, after you've started our cooking fire; but it wouldn't be fair to hold up the whole bunch just to please yourself. your own good sense tells you that, giraffe." giraffe, of course, had to appear to be convinced. "just when i had a new scheme in my head, too, that i just know would have made the fire come," he grumbled, as he hung the little bow on a twig of a tree near by, and produced flint and steel, and a little bag in which he kept tinder, in the shape of tiny shavings which he was always preparing at odd moments; "and before i get another chance to try it, i'll have forgotten the combination, sure. but that's always the way it goes; though don't you dare think bumpus hawtree, that i'm going to give up so easy. i'll fight it out this way if it takes all winter." being an adept with the flint and steel, giraffe quickly had his fire started. "and that's the way it'll be after i've just got that one little snag passed," he took occasion to remark, for the benefit of the fat scout, who was hovering near by. "everything's easy as tumbling off a log, once you know how. p'raps you remember what a time you had learnin' to ride a bike; and yet now you can cut around corners, and even stand on the saddle while she's going. well, you wait and see my smoke." "huh! that's all i ever will see, i'm afraid," chuckled bumpus. but presently giraffe managed to drift into a more amiable humor. that was when the coffee pot was bubbling on the fire, sending out its cheery aroma; and the last of the eggs they had managed to buy from a potato grower on the bank of the aroostook were sizzling in the two large frying-pans. most boys possess hearty appetites, and giraffe was no exception to the rule. indeed, like most lean fellows, he had an enormous stowage capacity somewhere about him, and could dispose of more food on occasion than any two of his mates. bumpus always declared he had hollow legs, and used them for receptacles, when other places were filled to overflowing. but not one of the scouts could remember the time when giraffe complained of having eaten too much. like the crowded street car, there was always room for more. "wish we'd struck this section of country an hour or two before dark," bumpus ventured to remark, complacently, as he sat there with his fat legs doubled under him, tailor-fashion and munching at the crackers and cheese he had made a sandwich out of. "for why?" asked giraffe, looking up. "oh! a feller might have just taken a little turn around here, and knocked over a deer, or something of the sort," bumpus replied, with the utmost assurance in the world; just as though such a thing were of common occurrence in his life. "looks right gamey around here; how's that, thad?" "oh! jim hasty told us that much!" declared step hen, before the scoutmaster could find a chance to say anything. "didn't you hear him tell how every season there's been a moose or two killed within ten miles of where we've got our camp right now. but we can't hold up yet to do any hunting; so you'll just have to put a crimp in that sporting spirit you've developed so suddenly, bumpus." "listen to him talk, would you?" exclaimed giraffe; "and only a little while back you couldn't get bumpus to even touch a gun. say, you're a marvel, all right, bumpus. they'll have you set up as the eighth wonder of the world soon, ahead of the telephone, wireless, moving pictures, and even the talking machine. edison and all the rest of those old wizards had better take a back seat when you come around." joking and chatting, they made the time pass very happily. if jim hasty were in reality much concerned over the prospect of his meeting with the ugly poacher who had a bone to pick with him, he at least did not show it outwardly any longer. but then jim was a man of few words as a rule; and it was hardly to be expected that so hardy a fellow would tremble, just at the mention of a name. there was room for them all under the shelter of the tents, though as a rule, so long as the weather kept on being fairly pleasant, the two hardy guides declared that they much preferred to wrap up in their blankets and sleep under the stars. such men become used to what would seem hardships to the city bred person, and in truth think very little of enduring them. and it was by no means cold enough as yet, to drive them into taking shelter under the canvas. giraffe had been working away at his fire-making business pretty much all of the evening, and bumpus had watched him for a while; but growing tired of seeing the other sawing away as if for dear life, he had finally laughed, and turned away. if giraffe came near making things "go" that evening, at least once more the glory of a full success slipped away from his eager hands, outstretched to clutch it; for when it came time for them to "shut up shop," as thad said, and crawl into the two tents, he had not brought about his expected blaze, though his face looked more determined than ever. bumpus, giraffe and allan occupied one tent; while the other three scouts were assigned to the second. the guides promised to share their shelter only in case of a storm, or very severe weather. the fire was allowed to die down. if any strong wind came up in the night it would be the duty of the guides to see that burning brands were not carried into the adjacent woods, to set fire to the brown pine needles that covered the ground; and were so full of resinous matter that once ignited they would send a wall of flame down the wind that would do incalculable damage. soon quiet rested over the camp. the frosty night breeze sighed among the branches overhead; the owl hooted to its mate deep in the wood; and the hour of midnight, when thad peeped forth, (and which he knew to have arrived from the position of certain stars overhead), saw the last of the fire vanishing in dead embers. thad sought the warmth of his blanket again in a hurry, for the air was now nipping cold, especially after the snug nest had been temporarily abandoned. and he must have gone right to sleep, for he did not seem to remember anything after again creeping under the double folds of the warm woolen covering. now, when one sleeps like most boys do, soundly, it is impossible to figure how time passes when awakened in a hurry. so that thad could not tell what the hour might be when he found himself starting up hurriedly, under the conviction that strange as it might seem at that season of the year, and with the air frosty, there was a storm bearing down upon them, for he thought it was thunder he heard. then came a tremendous crash, and the tent swayed, but did not fall; though from the wild shouts that arose close at hand the young patrol leader reckoned the same good fortune could not have befallen the other shelter, because he could plainly catch the howls of step hen, bumpus and giraffe. quick as thought thad whirled over to the exit, and crawled out. and what his eyes beheld was enough to startle anybody, let alone a boy. if a genuine cyclone had not struck the camp on the little machias, then something almost as bad must have dropped down upon them, thad thought, as he stared, hardly able to believe his eyes, or understand what it all meant. chapter iv. a terror that came in the night. why, the second tent had utterly left the place where thad remembered they had erected it. he had just a fleeting glimpse of something dingy white careering along over the ground among the trees, and then it vanished. but there was a high time going on near by, where the contents of the interior of the late tent were scattered around. blankets heaved, and legs were thrust out, while the owners of the same were screaming at the top of their voices. "oh! what is this?" bellowed bumpus, who seemed to be almost smothered under the folds of his blanket, which he must have had up over his head at the time the catastrophe came upon them. "it's a hurricane, that's what, and our bally old tent has been carried away!" shouted giraffe. "hang on to anything you can grab, fellers, or you may be taken next! whoop! let her come! i've got hold of a tree now!" "not much you have," remarked thad, "that's my leg you're hanging on to. let go, and we'll soon find out what happened." "ain't it a storm after all then?" demanded step hen, as he came creeping out under the canvas of the back of the one tent that had been left standing, with most of his clothes hugged tightly in his grip, as though he did not mean to be utterly left without something to keep him warm, if the worst had befallen them. thad had by now gleaned an inkling of the truth. and it was so utterly ridiculous that he felt as though he must soon burst into peals of laughter. "first tell me if anybody was hurt?" he demanded, feeling that it would be wrong to show any merriment if such should prove to be the case. "i don't know," remarked giraffe; "seemed to me something heavy came squash down on top of me like a thousand of bricks. mebbe it was only the tent pole falling. guess i ain't hurt much." "how about you, allan?" asked thad, hardly thinking it worth while to ask bumpus, who seemed to be all right; though he was already beginning to dance around, as the nipping fingers of jack frost got busy with his thinly covered shanks, about which he had only his flimsy pajamas over his underclothes. "never happened to step on me, though he came within three inches of my back!" replied the maine boy; and there was something about his words to tell that allan must already have guessed what had been the cause for all this commotion, and the stealing of their tent. bumpus caught at the words. "what's all that?" he demanded quickly; "was it the work of some mean feller, after all? hey, is that the way your old cale martin gets in his work, sneakin' up in the dead of night, when we're all sleepin' as innocent as the babes in the woods, and snatchin' off our covers before you could wink an eye, or say jack robinson? well, i like his nerve, that's what; and he'd better look out how he keeps on tryin' tricks on travelers. say, he switched our tent, too!" and bumpus gave a whistle, as well as his trembling lips would allow, to emphasize his disgust. "you can thank your lucky stars old fellow," said allan, "that he didn't plant one of his hoofs square on your stomach." "hoofs!" echoed bumpus, aghast; "say, then it wasn't that old poacher after all, was it? hoofs? that must mean it was an animal. looky here, somebody get the fire started again, so we won't shake to pieces while we're hunting our clothes, and listening to the explanation of this latest outrage." "oh! let davy do it," said giraffe; "i'm nearly frozen stiff myself right now; and besides," he added as a brilliant after-thought, "you know i don't carry matches with me any more. and of course you wouldn't want to wait while i swung my little bow." "where's my left shoe?" shouted step hen just then; for there never was a time when he could find _all_ his belongings; and in a case of excitement like this it was a certainty that his customary complaint would soon be heard in the land. "who's gone and took my left shoe? i'm dead certain i had both of 'em when i started to crawl under the canvas. somebody thinks it smart to keep playin' jokes on _me_ all the time. why can't they let _my_ things be, thad?" "what's that sticking out of the pocket of your coat?" asked allan, as davy managed to strike a match, and apply the fire to the only lantern they carried with them on the trip. "why, whoever stuck that in there?" step hen went on, unblushingly. "thinks it smart to do such silly things, and have me guessing all the time. just switch off, and try it on one of the others, won't you?" knowing that he must have undoubtedly placed the shoe in that pocket himself in the haste of his departure from the tent that remained, step hen did not dare accuse any one in particular; but glared around at vacancy when thus addressing his supposed-to-be enemy. but they were so accustomed to his failings by now that no one paid much attention to what he was saying. in fact, it would have been a cause for astonishment if twenty-four hours ever slipped past without an outburst from step hen in connection with some of his personal belongings, that seemed to have taken wings in the most mysterious fashion, and vanished, although they always turned up again. "but what sort of an animal was it, thad?" asked bumpus, still dancing about, and slapping himself in every conceivable place in order to keep his blood in circulation. "ask jim, or eli," replied the patrol leader, who was really too busy just then getting some of his own clothes, to bother answering. so the others turned to the two guides, who, not having removed any of their ordinary garments, did not feel the chilly night air as much as the lads. "what was it banged us over, eli?" asked bumpus. "moose bull on the rampage!" replied the maine woodsman, readily enough. "a great big moose like that one we shot a while ago!" echoed bumpus, showing great excitement. "just my luck. why, if he'd heard that i had a new gun, and was waiting to see what it could do, he couldn't have been kinder. just knocked at our door; and when nobody answered him he went away again, and by jinks! carried the door and the rest of the house with him. however in the wide world do you suppose that happened, eli? i guess you ought to know, because you're acquainted with the queer ways of these woods' critters." "never knew such a thing before in all my experience in woods," asserted the older guide, shaking his head. "fire was out, wind blowing wrong way for moose to smell human critters; and he must a thought he heard 'nother bull on the edge o' ther water, wantin' to fight him. anyhow he jest natchrally tore right through that tent. it got fast to his horns, and he's been an' kerried it off." "oh! what tough luck. if i'd only been on the watch i'd have the honor of shooting the first moose that took to wearin' clothes human way," groaned bumpus. "d'ye suppose, then, he's keepin' our bally tent; and won't we ever set eyes on the same again?" asked giraffe, holding his chilled hands out toward the fire that in davy's charge had been revived again until it sent out a genial warmth. "soon know," remarked jim, who had a personal interest in the matter, seeing that the purloined canvas belonged to him; though of course he knew that his employers would stand for any loss he incurred while working in their service. he took the lantern, and started away. thad had managed to get some of his clothes on by this time, and he hurried after the shorter guide, who seemed to know exactly in which direction to pursue his investigations. "i can see something ahead there," thad remarked, presently. "that's the tent, all right," remarked jim. "i only hopes as how she ain't too bad cut up now. 'twas nearly new, and good, and stout; so i guess the ole chap he had some trouble gettin' loose from the same." they found the tent where it had caught on a sprout, and torn free from the branching antlers of the moose, commonly called his horns. "not so bad after all," remarked jim, when he had examined the extent of the damage made by the tent's being so forcibly carried off. "i kin patch it up easy, when i gits a chance in the boat, to-morry. guess as haow we gut off right smart, all things considerin', thad." and the young scoutmaster was ready to echo these words, when he got to thinking how one of a dozen things might have accompanied the mad rush of the moose through the camp. they never did know what had really caused his charge; whether some vindictive spirit of rage provoked the huge beast; or that he fancied a rival bull were challenging him to mortal combat, just as in the case of the fellow, whom sebattis had previously lured within gunshot, with his seductive moose call. the balance of the night gave them only broken sleep; because of the sudden and rude shock of this awakening. bumpus hugged his new gun close to his side; and raised his head so often to listen, that both giraffe and allan vowed they would be compelled to chase him outside if he didn't get busy, and capture some sleep right away. morning came in due time, and they found that little damage had been done by the rush of the moose, beyond some rents in the canvas of the tent. once more they started forth, and all that day plodded on, making many miles, and by evening reaching the spot where jim said they could have their canoes and luggage carried over to portage lake by a man he knew, who owned a team and a wagon. "how far is it across from here?" asked thad, seeking information. "depends on what way yuh go thar," replied jim, "but i guesses as nick he likes the three mile carry best. start fresh in the mornin' sure." after they had partaken of an early supper jim went off to find his friend who owned the team, while the others busied themselves getting their belongings in as small a compass as possible, looking forward to what was expected to happen on the following morning. later, when jim came back, he reported that he had interviewed nick, and made all necessary arrangements with him to take the three canoes, and the stuff that went with them, across the carry in the morning. the boys were expected to walk and if necessary push at the wheels of the wagon, should it get stuck in a creek bed of soft quicksand. the night passed quietly, and all hands managed to put in plenty of time sleeping, to make up for the loss of the previous one. in the morning the loud "whoa" of a stentorian voice announced the arrival of the expected team. they proved to be oxen instead of horses, and once the canoes, and other stuff, had been loaded on the big low wagon, the journey commenced. slow progress was the order of the day. giraffe grumbled, but it did no good. and it was really noon when they finally came in sight of the lake. the canoes were gladly launched, a light lunch eaten, the teamster paid off, and then again the voyage was resumed under a favoring sky; for the air was bracing, and so far not a sign of the first snow storm had made its appearance, though the guides warned their charges to be prepared for the worst, as a downfall was nearly due. a cold wind was blowing from the northwest so that the wise guides hugged the sheltered shore of portage lake, since the waves were of pretty good size, and the flying spray would be far from pleasant in such weather. finally they reached the place where the lake had its outlet into a small stream, that, after flowing for a number of miles, emptied into the lower lake of the great and famous eagle chain. on the shore of this lake then, they made their next camp. from the grave manner of jim, the scoutmaster easily guessed that they must by now have entered the territory where cale martin, the slippery old poacher, held forth. jim seemed to look about him more than before. he also started at the least unusual sound, showing that while he might try to disguise the fact, he was really nervous. still, he did not give the slightest indication of showing the white feather, or backing down, before a dozen like cale martin. davy had purchased a little snapshot camera at the town below, and also some flashlight cartridges with which he wished to get some views of the group around the camp-fire at night. no one had made any effort to perpetuate such scenes which davy declared were the very best part of the whole trip. and now that they had become fairly launched upon the journey he was aching to start into business with his new outfit. davy knew a little about taking pictures, although far from being an expert. he had never used flashlight powders, or cartridges before; and after reading all the directions carefully, he declared he felt prepared to take a picture that would be viewed with the greatest satisfaction in the world by all his chums, when this great maine vacation were only a memory of the past. so davy warned his campmates not to be alarmed if there suddenly flashed upon them a great light. "i'd like to get you all in characteristic attitudes, if i could--that was the way the feller who sold me the camera called it; and he said the best pictures were the natural ones. what i mean is, that if i could grab step hen here, for instance, with that silly look of his on his face, saying: 'anybody seen my camp hatchet around? funny how it's always _my_ things that get carried off! the jinx never hides anything belonging to _you_ fellers!' i'd have something worth while." "oh! come off, will you, davy; if i thought i looked like you say, i'd let all my traps disappear every day but what i'd kick up a row," and step hen assumed an air of indignation with these words that caused a general laugh to go around. of course it had to be explained to the two guides, for they were to be in the picture, smoking their pipes contentedly; and apparently eli telling a story, to which the rest of the scouts were listening eagerly, possibly laughing. having fixed things to his satisfaction, davy disappeared, slipping away from the camp-fire on the side he had decided upon as offering the best natural advantages for a flashlight view. they could not see him, but guessed that he was working his way toward them as slily as he could; since he had announced that he meant to play the part of an enemy, stealing up to spy upon the camp. presently they did manage to get eli started telling a story; for thad knew it would be better for the picture if the guides seemed natural, and not on parade. meanwhile davy was creeping forward, intent on reaching the place he had picked out beforehand, and where, without exposing himself, he could set his camera, and then fire the cartridge. when to his uneducated mind--in the line of photography--davy had things just about to his liking, he held himself in readiness for what he deemed an extra fine view, when the boys were laughing heartily at the climax of eli's queer story of a scrape he once found himself in that was really humorous, though at the time it may have appeared anything but that to the actor. "now!" said davy, partly to himself, as he fired his cartridge. there was a sudden brilliant and dazzling flash, that must have been as fierce as the display of lightning when the bolt hits close at hand. and while those at the fire were schooled to repress their natural alarm, evidently the same could not be said of a looker-on not counted in the bill; for there was a hoarse cry of alarm from the bushes across the way, and the sound of crashing seemed to tell of a precipitate flight. chapter v. jim's secret. "what was that?" exclaimed bumpus. "oh! davy just had to let out a whoop!" commented step hen. "think again, would you," spoke up giraffe, who sat there twisting his long neck this way and that, in a comical way, as though seeking to discover the object of the strange outcry; "it came from the other side of the camp from where davy is." "well," said the indifferent step hen, as if not wanting to be bothered, "then it must have been some animal that was curious enough to prowl around our camp, and got a good scare, free, gratis, for nothing." "it was no animal that made that sound, and i leave it to thad or allan here," bumpus insisted. indeed, even the sleepy step hen sat up and took notice that the two mentioned, as well as jim and eli, were already on their feet, exchanging significant looks. words were hardly needed to proclaim that they deemed the circumstance as one worthy of investigation. just then davy came in, bearing his little camera, and with a grin on his face. "got a fine picture that time, i reckon, fellers," he announced, after the manner of satisfied camera fiends the world over. "did you give a shout, davy?" asked thad, thinking it best to settle that point in the start, before going any further. "not that i know of, i didn't," immediately replied the other. "did you hear one?" continued the patrol leader. "sure i did, and took it for granted that step hen or giraffe had been scared by the fireworks display, in spite of my warning, and squealed," davy replied. "that settles it, then," thad went on, turning to eli and jim; "get a torch, or the lantern, and we'll see what it was." "wow! this looks some interesting!" exclaimed giraffe, beginning to show signs of excitement himself. eli picked up the lantern, and lighted it. then he led the way into the bushes at the exact spot where, according to his educated ear, the snort and the crash had come from. "keep back, the rest of you," said thad, "and let eli do the looking. if he finds anything worth while, be sure you'll all know about it." a minute later the old guide called to them to come on. "bully for eli; he's lost no time in making good!" exclaimed giraffe. the whole party crowded around the old guide, who was on his knees on the ground, apparently examining some tracks he had found. he waved a hand to keep them from crowding too close to him, so as to interfere with his work. bending low, thad could easily see the marks. some one had been crouching there in the bushes, and spying on the camp. that he could not be an honest woodsman it was easy to guess, for as such he would have stalked straight into camp, sure of the warm welcome that is always extended to a stranger who looks good. eli pointed to the impression close to the footprints. "thar's whar he rested the butt o' his rifle," he said, positively, and thad knew it was exactly as eli declared, just as though he could himself see the actions of the hidden man. "got on his knees and crawled up to whar he c'ud poke his nose outen the scrub hyar, an' watch us. and hyar's whar he was arestin' on jest wun knee; cause ye kin see the mark o' his foot beyond." "what was he doing that for?" asked thad, though deep down in his heart he seemed to instinctively know. "wall, i kinder guess naow thet he mout a be'n a tryin' to see how he cud kiver wun o' us with his _gun!_" replied eli. he beckoned to jim, and that worthy approached. there was a troubled look on the face of the younger guide that thad could not but notice; and he realized that the affair might not be so great a mystery to jim as it seemed to the rest of them. "take a squint at them hood tracks hyar, jim; p'raps ye mout sorter reckernize the same," eli remarked drily. jim only needed that one glance, and then he gritted his teeth as he observed: "oh! twar _him_, all right, eli; i knowed it." "wow! and again i say, wow! this here is sure getting mighty interesting!" muttered giraffe, shuffling uneasily from one foot to the other; while bumpus, filled with a sudden alarm, started back into the camp, to arm himself with his new gun. "do you mean old cale martin?" demanded thad. "none other," answered jim, moodily. "then he must have seen you, jim, sitting here?" the patrol leader went on. "he shore did," replied the short guide. "and amused himself covering you with his gun, just as if to say that he could put a bullet in you, if so be he wanted; but he didn't want to, did he jim? "reckon he didn't, sir," the other ventured. "yuh see, he ain't jest _thet_ mad at me, so's tuh wanter kill me; jest sez as haow i gotter keep away from whar he camps, yuh know." "sill, he said he meant to pin your ears to a tree, if he caught you up here; those were about the words your guide friend, hen parry, used, weren't they, jim?" "thet's what they was; an' he meant it, too," jim replied. "thet's one o' his good points, thet he allers keeps his word. if them game wardens cud ever git ole dad martin tuh say as he never wud kill game outen season agin, they'd know nawthin' under the sun'd tempt him tuh do hit, not even if he was a dyin' fuh a bite o' meat. he ain't all bad, this here cale martin." "but what about you, jim; seems to me this is taking big chances in your coming up here, when such a lawless character has a grudge against you, and is waiting to put his stamp on you that way. and strikes me, jim, that you must have had a motive in coming, that was more than just bluff. how about that?" the young guide glanced at thad when he said this, and evidently realized that the patrol leader could read his mind better than most people; he looked a little confused; then gave a short nervous laugh, and said: "wall, naow, sense yuh sized me up thet away, i'll jest hev tuh admit thet i did hev a notion in comin' up here, 'sides takin' ye through the eagle lakes. i hed my orders tuh come, an' from one as i hes tuh mind." he turned away while speaking, as though not inclined to say more just then in the presence of so many; but thad made up his mind there was a story back of the strange actions of jim; and that a few point-blank questions might bring it out. before he slept he hoped he would find a chance to get jim to one side and ask him about it; for he had reason to believe the other was ready to confide in him. "do you think he'll come back again to-night?" asked davy jones. "who cares?" remarked a voice at the elbow of the speaker; and turning, they beheld bumpus flourishing his new double-barrel gun, as though only too anxious for a chance to hold somebody up at its muzzle. "here, you keep that cannon aimed the other way, if you please!" cried giraffe, dodging behind a convenient tree. "you ought to be marked with a red flag 'dangerous--dynamite!' that's what i think!" "come, let's get back to camp," remarked thad. "there's little chance of old cale coming back here to-night. he got the scare of his life when that flashlight burst on him so sudden like. i wouldn't be surprised if he thought a rapid-fire machine gun was opening on him; or else that lightning had taken to camping on his trail." "anyhow," remarked allan, "he just couldn't help turning and running as if the old nick were after him. and from that we can guess that cale never heard tell of flashlight pictures." "well, can you blame him?" asked thad. "makes me think of the old fable, when the lion and the donkey went hunting together. the lion took up his station at the mouth of the cave where some goats had hidden, while the donkey went in; and made all sorts of terrible noises, braying. so the goats ran out, and the lion killed as many as he wanted. when the donkey came out he asked his partner if he had done the job in good shape. 'fine,' said the lion, 'and you would have frightened me too, if i hadn't known that you were only a donkey.' and that's the way with us, fellows; we were on to the game in advance, or some of us might have taken to our heels too." "here, that sounds mighty much like you were calling me a donkey," remarked davy, trying to display a certain amount of offended dignity. "oh! not in the least," laughed thad. "if the shoe fits, put it on," jeered giraffe. "you know they say that wherever you see smoke, there's sure to be fire." "not much there ain't," burst out bumpus, with a grin. "i've seen _heaps_ of smoke started, without a sign of a blaze," and giraffe subsided into silence knowing what was meant. "did you get a good picture, davy?" asked thad, as they once more settled down around the fire. "seemed like it to me," was the reply. "it was just when you were all laughing at what eli here was saying. he had his hand up, like he was going to smack it down in the palm of the other, to emphasize a telling point in his story. say, wouldn't it be a great stunt now, if, when i developed that plate, i found a face sticking out of the bushes across yonder; and jim here recognized it as belonging to that big terror of the pine woods, cale martin!" "say, that would be just great!" ejaculated step hen; and all eyes were turned toward jim; but that worthy made no remark, though he must have surely heard what was said. as the evening grew on apace thad was watching for the chance he wanted, to get a few words in private with the younger guide. jim somehow had interested thad from the start. he never said anything about himself or his folks; but somehow the young patrol leader had been drawn toward jim. he believed the fellow to be a sturdy chap, clean and honest as any guide ever employed by big game hunters in the maine woods. and now that it began to appear that there was a little mystery attached to his past, of course thad felt a deeper interest in jim than ever. perhaps it was accident that took jim off after a while; he may have just wanted to smoke his pipe alone, and ponder on the strange fate that seemed to throw him once more in contact with the man who had crossed his life trail in the past, and apparently not in a pleasant way either. but somehow thad conceived an idea that jim just knew he wanted to have a quiet little chat with him; and was thus making an opening. just as he had expected he found the guide leaning against a tree near by. the light from the flickering blaze of the camp-fire reached the spot, but faintly; and jim did not even show any signs of nervousness when thad drew near, which was one indication that he had half expected his coming. perhaps jim even invited a chance to bestow his confidence on the young scoutmaster. he must have seen before now that thad brewster was no ordinary boy; and when a man has been brooding over _something_ a long time, he often feels like having a friend to whom he may pour out the troubles of his soul, and from whom perhaps he may look for advice. "not thinking of changing your mind, are you jim?" asked thad, as he joined the other by the tree. "if yuh mean 'bout goin' back, an' feelin' like a whipped houn' dog, sir, 'taint in jim hasty tuh do thet aways. fact is," the guide went on, with a stubborn ring in his voice, "meetin' up with ole cale jest kinder makes me more sot in my mind than ever. i stays with yuh right through, yuh kin bank on thet." "well, i only hope he'll conclude to give us a wide berth, and make up his mind that he'd better keep his hands off," thad went on. "seems like he doesn't fancy you any too much, jim?" this was a plain invitation, and the other so regarded it, for he immediately answered: "i kinder guess ole cale does hate me wuss nor pizen, sir. p'raps he's gut reason fut hit; an' agin, mebbe he hain't. 'tall depends on the way yuh look at hit. i on'y done what any man o' speerit'd adone, if so be he found himself up agin a stone wall like cale martin's 'no, not on yuh life!' meant." "then you asked him for something, did you, jim?" "jest what i done, sir; which something war what he happened to keer more fur than anything else on the yarth," jim replied; and thad could detect something soft and tender underneath the words, that gave him a clue. "and that something, jim?" he went on, invitingly. "war his darter, little lina, ther purtiest an' sweetest gal in all the maine woods," the guide made answer. "when he sez as haow i never cud hev her with all her carin' fur me so much, i jest up an' run away with her; an' thet's why ole cale, he hates me wuss nor cold pizen!" chapter vi. taking a risk for the sake of little lina. thad understood it all now, and the knowledge gave him a thrill. he thrust out his hand to the young guide, with boyish enthusiasm. "shake, jim!" he exclaimed. "i just know you did what any decent man would have done. and so you managed to run away with the old man's daughter, did you? was she all he had?" "on'y little lina; an' he believed the sun rose an' set in her, like. they cud all say as cale martin war a bad man, an' he _war_ rough as they make 'em, sumtimes; but he'd a laid down his life fur thet gal, any day. i was dead sorry tuh hev tuh do hit; but i knowed he'd never give in, an' i jest cudn't live without her. we gut outen this deestrict while cale war off on a hunt, an' i hain't never seen hide nor hair o' him sense. but he sent me word thet ef so be i ever kim back tuh the old stampin' grounds, he hed it in fuh me, all right." "how long ago was that, jim?" "nigh a yeah an' er half now," the other replied. "and of course your wife has often wished she could see her father again, jim?" the guide groaned. "cried her putty eyes out, awantin' tuh see her dad," he admitted; "but what cud a man do 'bout hit, if cale, he wudn't forgive me? he sent word as haow lina cud kim back, but me, never; an' in course she wudn't quit me." "but now, jim; tell me about who gave you the orders you were saying something about a while ago?" pursued thad. "she done hit, in course," answered the other, heaving a sigh. "i knowed the risk i war takin', but i'd do a right smart more fur my lina." "then as i take it, jim, you don't really want to avoid old cale, this fiery father-in-law of yours; in fact, you mean to see him face to face?" "got ter," replied the other, laconically; "'cause she sez so. hit may be i kin do hit on the way up to the lakes; but if not then i'm acomin' back with eli an' the canoes thisaways, arter yuh gits aboard ther train; an' i'll hang around this deestrict till we meets. never'd dar' show myself tuh her, 'less i done everything agoin' tuh kerry it out." "and don't you feel a little uneasy about your ears, jim?" "wall, it wudn't be jest the nicest thing agoin' tuh lose 'em; but she sez as haow ole cale, he's bound tuh cave when he hears what i gotter tuh tell him." evidently jim had said all he meant to, and thad took the hint. "well, all i want to say is that i admire your nerve, jim; and the lot of us will stand back of you if you get in any trouble," he remarked, earnestly. "hit's right nice in yuh tuh say thet, sir, an' sure i 'predate hit," the guide went on to say, with a tremor in his voice; "but arter all, i guess thar hain't goin' tuh be any row, if me'n cale, we kims tergether. i'm willin' tuh resk it. but i must say as haow i don't like the ijee o' him asettin' thar in them bushes, aimin' his gun at me. but cale martin's a squar man, as wudn't shoot daown another without givin' him a show. an' i guess he jest done it fur fun." so thad went back to the fire, and sat down. but he did not join in the merry talk that was going around. his thoughts were wholly given up to jim and his story. he liked the short guide more than ever; and in the same proportion detested the big maine backwoodsman whose daughter jim had run away with. presently some of the boys complained of feeling sleepy, and arrangements were made for passing the night. both jim and eli declared that it would be only the part of wisdom to keep watch. there could be no telling what deviltry cale martin, assisted by his two congenial spirits, si kedge and ed harkness, might attempt to do. perhaps, thinking that it would reflect on the guides if they annoyed the party whom eli and jim were convoying into the maine woods, they might even try to set fire to the camp, and thus spoil the entire trip. when morning came thad and allan had taken their turn at standing sentry; but none of the other scouts were called upon, because the leader did not have the greatest of confidence in their ability to remain awake, not to mention hearing, and comprehending, any sounds that might arise, and which spelled danger. a consultation in the morning showed that only once had there been heard suspicious sounds. it was while allan held the fort; and he declared that to the best of his knowledge they were far distant voices on the river. but although he listened carefully, and was prepared to give the alarm if necessary, nothing further developed that might be considered a peril to the camp. the boys were feeling pretty good that morning. they had most of them enjoyed a fine sleep, and were as active as young colts. davy in particular seemed to be full of animal spirits; and when he felt like it, there was no end of the capers the athletic gymnast could do. one minute he was hanging from his toes from a high limb, looking like a monkey; and the next he had let go, whirled over three times in the air, and landed lightly on his feet on the soft ground; after which he would make his little bow, just like the celebrated performer in the great and only barnum's circus, after he has thrilled the audience with one of his marvelous acts. bumpus sat and watched all these performances with open mouth. secretly the fat boy aspired to imitate davy in some of his antics; though giraffe always scoffed loudly at the absurd idea of a heavy weight like bumpus trying to play the part of a nimble ape. several times had the ambition of bumpus got the better of his judgment, and he had endeavored to follow in the wake of the active member of the party; but always with disastrous results; so that for some time now he had taken it out in gaping, and wishing, and longing for the time to come when he could get rid of his surplus fat, so that he might be nimble like davy. giraffe during breakfast was unusually silent and sober. thad guessed where his thoughts were straying, and consequently it did not surprise him in the least to overhear the tall boy muttering to himself, while he shook his head stubbornly: "i c'n do it all right; i just _know_ i can!" step hen amused himself watching a sharp-eyed little striped chipmunk stealing some bits thrown aside from the camp meal. time was when step hen might have been guilty of trying to hit such a fair mark with a club or a stone; but that was in the past. he would not have lifted a finger now to injure that innocent little creature for worlds; but sat there, deeply interested in observing every movement it made, just as if it were a pet. jim seemed to be himself again; at least when thad looked toward him inquiringly, the guide nodded his head, and smiled. evidently jim had slept over his trouble, and decided that he was doing the right thing. for the sake of little lina he was ready to go right along, taking big chances of losing his precious ears; for only too well did he know that old cale was a man of his word; and that he must have meant everything he said to the messenger who bore the threat to jim. davy was wild to develop the film upon which he had taken that snapshot picture on the preceding night; but there were a number of obstacles in the way of doing that. first of all, there were five other exposures on that roll, as yet untouched; and as a clinching argument, davy had not bothered bringing a developing tank, or printing outfit along with him, fearing that they would take up too much room. and so he would have to be content to wait until they reached some place where a photographer held forth, who would undertake to do the job, for a consideration. of course the picture of that breakfast would hardly be complete without step hen suddenly breaking forth in his customary strain: "where's my--oh, here it is, on my head, of course! how queer that i should forget i put it there," and he had to actually take his hat off, and look at it, as if hardly able to believe his eyes, and that for once his anticipated difficulty had been smoothed over so easily. davy joined in the general laugh that greeted this outbreak; then he walked gravely over, and insisted on feeling of step hen's neck. "hey! what you up to, now, you jones boy? keep your paws off me!" exclaimed the object of this solicitude, suspiciously dodging. "i only wanted to make sure that the connection was sound still," retorted the other; "because some fine day, all of us expect you to lose your head." "well, i've seen you lose yours more'n a few times, when you got flustrated and excited; and it didn't seem to hurt much," step hen retorted. "there's a big difference in heads," remarked davy. "i should say there was," replied the other, meaningly; "and the gray stuff that's in 'em, too. some are hollow, like a punkin; while others, mine for instance, are just crammed full of thinks." "well, i'd advise you to use a few of the thinks trying to remember where you put your belongings; and quit accusing the rest of us of playing tricks on you; or a silly little jinx of stealing things." davy went on, shaking his finger at the careless scout. "if all you fellows are done eating, perhaps we'd better get a move on us," suggested the scoutmaster; of course thad was really only the assistant, for according to the regulations governing all troops of boy scouts connected with the parent organization, there had to be a grown-up acting in the capacity of scoutmaster; though thad had passed an examination that entitled him to receive his commission as assistant, from the headquarters in new york city. as this gentleman, a dr. philander hobbs, had been unable to get away with them on this trip to maine, he had relegated his authority to the shoulders of thad; a proceeding that was greatly relished by the other five scouts, because they liked to feel that they were depending on themselves, with no grown-up along. accordingly there was a movement among the campers. tents had to come down, and be stowed away; and all the material connected with the cooking department made into as small a compass as possible. all of them worked but giraffe, who was on his knees near by, doing something that thad could easily guess the nature of. knowing the stubborn qualities in the angular scout thad felt sure that none of them would know any peace until giraffe had finally managed to strike a clue, and effect the end he had in view, of making an actual boni-fide fire after the way known to the south sea islanders, with his little bow, his sharp-pointed stick set in a hole made in a block of wood, and his inflammable tinder, backed by indomitable energy, and "get there" spirit. and for the sake of harmony in the camp, thad really wished giraffe would hurry up, and solve the knotty problem. inside of half an hour they were all packed, and ready to make another start in the direction of the eagle chain of lakes to the north. chapter vii. the long-drawn howl of a canada wolf. "all ready!" sang out thad. some of them were already settled in the canoes; but giraffe still remained, kneeling on the shore. "come, we've waited long enough for you, old slow-poke!" called out bumpus, who was the partner of the tall scout in the canoe paddled by eli. very slowly did giraffe approach, his eyes turned beseechingly on thad. "say, that's the way it always goes," he declared. "i was just getting on to it the best ever, and if i only had half an hour more, i'd made my fire as sure as i'm conrad stedman. i've got her all figgered out; and by noon i'll be twisted in my mind again, and the whole combination lost." but thad only shook his head. "couldn't think of it, number six," he declared. "it was one part of the agreement made with you that on no occasion were you to delay the balance of the party. all ready; bumpus, give the signal." bumpus was a natural musician. he could play "any old instrument," and extract very good music from banjo, guitar, violin, or even an accordion; he also had a fine voice that often aroused the enthusiastic acclaim of his comrades while sitting around the fire of evenings. of course, then, he had been made the bugler of the troop as soon as the organization was commenced. it had not been deemed just the right thing for him to fetch his musical instrument along while the silver fox patrol chanced to be in the maine woods on a hunt; but then that was no bar to bumpus, who could put his hands to his mouth, and give a splendid imitation of the reveille, assembly, taps, or any other military call. so giraffe had to climb into eli's canoe, looking very much discouraged. really, it did seem as though an evil spirit took especial delight in baffling him, just when he seemed in a fair way to reach the goal of his present ambition. as he had once before complained, he had even had his tinder soaked by a sudden shower, and just at the critical moment when he felt sure it was about to burst into a successful blaze. but one thing was sure, these successive defeats only served to make him shut his teeth harder together, and resolve that nothing would ever prevent him from getting that fire, if it took him a year. he might be beaten once, twice, or fifty times; but there would come a day to the patient plodder when the door of opportunity would open for him. and surely success would stand for a great deal more if he had to work like this for it, than if easily attained. before noon came they had arrived at the place where the stream ran into the lower lake of the eagle chain; and when they stopped for lunch, it was upon the shore of this beautiful sheet of water. thad had been secretly keeping an eye on jim. he knew that the guide must feel more or less anxiety, despite his brave outward showing. and when jim thought no one was observing he would look out of the tail of his eye at every clump of bushes that seemed any way suspicious, as long as they were upon the river. and hence, it was doubtless a positive relief when they started out on the broader water of the lake; for after that he would only have to watch one shore. about one o'clock they again started. the air continued cold, but bracing, and this made paddling a pleasure, up to a certain point. all of the scouts took a hand at it, even bumpus, and received more or less valuable instruction from the two guides, as to how the paddle should be worked in order to have as little "lost motion" as possible; and at the same time secure the greatest amount of benefit. but when after half an hour of labor, they found their muscles beginning to tire from the unaccustomed motion, the boys considered themselves lucky to be able to turn the paddles over once more to the canoe men, who were used to the job, and could keep it up steadily all day, if need be. when they drew near the outlet where the waters of the lower lake flowed into lake winthrop, thad, happening to look back, managed to discover a canoe skirting the shore some miles distant. from the actions of those in it, they seemed desirous of remaining unnoticed; for they took advantage of every headland that jutted out; and when they had to make across the open, it was done with all possible speed. thad did not need to be told who was in that craft. and glancing toward jim, he understood that the maine guide had doubtless been aware of the pursuing canoe for some time; because he nodded at the scoutmaster when he caught his eye. "it's him, is it, jim?" called out thad; for the canoes were some thirty feet apart at the time. "yep," came the answer, accompanied by an affirmative nod of jim's head. "you know him, even at that distance, then?" continued the patrol leader. "he's workin' the paddle right now," replied the other. "yuh cain't mistake his way o' swingin' ther spruce blade. ole cale hain't gut his ekal at thet in all the state o' maine." it was plain to be seen, then, that the giant poacher was on the trail of his detested son-in-law, possibly bent on carrying out his terrible threat; though thad hoped such might not prove to be the case. he knew that often these rough men of the woods could appreciate true bravery; and that there _might_ be a chance, however slight, that old cale was lost in admiration for the recklessnes that could induce jim to brave his wrath. what if he had been consumed by a sudden deep curiosity to know what really caused the other to take the risk and come up here? could he suspect that little lina had sent a message to him? all these things gave thad occasion for considerable thinking. at the same time he did not mean to lose sight of the main reason for their having come so far from their homes, in order to get some hunting, and camping experience, that would prove valuable to his fellow scouts, anxious to learn all that they could at first hands, of wood-craft. "i'm glad we were as particular as we were about putting out the very last spark of fire this morning," thad remarked, as the canoes moved along close to one another. "why?" demanded giraffe, a little suspiciously; for every time that magical word was used he chose to think all eyes must be turned in his direction; just as though he should be placed in the same class with fire. "oh! because the wind came up like great guns shortly after we left camp," thad went on, always ready to point a lesson to those under him; "and from the river, too. now, if we'd left any fire there, the chances are it would have been picked up, and thrown into the woods. as there was a lot of dry stuff around, you can see how easy a fire starts up here. and when it once gets going, i reckon it can burn some, eh, allan?" "if you ever have the good or bad luck to run across a forest afire, while we're up in this section, you'll see a sight that none of you'll soon forget," and he had to cast a meaning glance as he spoke in the direction of the fire worshipper. but giraffe only smiled in a satisfied way. "talk all you want," he remarked; "but i think i've got that business down fine, now; and to-night, _to-night_ i'm just bound to prove to bumpus here that the cream is on him. i knew i'd get it sometime." "well, don't crow till you're out of the woods," remarked bumpus, from the bow end of the canoe. "i'm willing to be convinced; and it'll be worth all it costs me just to see you work that puzzle out." "but you just know i c'n do it, don't you?" persisted giraffe. "won't say," answered the fat boy, obstinately. "well, you might as well be counting up your spare cash, because i'm bound to show you at the first chance. it just _can't_ slip away from me much longer; and i reckon i've got it clinched this time," and after that giraffe would not talk, but seemed to be muttering to himself from time to time, as though he might be repeating a certain formula that he believed to be the winning combination. they were not trying to make fast time now, because there was really no necessity for doing so. having arrived on the chain of lakes that, with the st. johns river, almost makes a great island of the northern portion of maine, they were bent on enjoying themselves. that meant going into camp at some point where the guides were agreed they might have the best hunting; and from that time on taking toll of the woods' folks as their larder required, wasting nothing, and refraining from hunting when food was not needed. they were true scouts, and believed in following the uplifting principles that govern the actions of the better class of sportsmen. as step hen so often declared, they did not want to be called "game hogs," a term often used to describe the man who flings his catch of bass or trout up on the shore to die, no matter if he is taking ten times what he can use; or who shoots his deer in or out of season, and allows it to lie there, wasted, on the ground, food for the foxes or wolves. "this country seems to be rather sparsely settled up here?" remarked thad, after they had been moving along the shore of lake winthrop for some time, looking up a desirable camp site. "in the summer you kin see a tent now an' then, it bein' sum party as wants ter enjy the fishin', which is prime," eli replied; "but they ain't many folks as keer 'bout stickin' out ther winters hyar. ye'll admit they must be sum cold, this far up, nigh the canady border." "but there must be plenty of game hereabouts, i should guess," thad went on. "because, in the first place it has a gamey look to me; and then again, you wouldn't have agreed to come along with jim here, unless you'd heard good accounts of the region around the eagle lakes." "jest what i has, though i hain't never be'n all over 'em myself," returned eli. "but jim hyar, he was bawn an' fetched up in this kentry; so what he doan't know 'baout hit hain't wuth knowin', i guess, sir." it was about the middle of the afternoon that jim declared they had reached the point where their tents should be pitched. thad noticed that the guide made not the least attempt at trying to hide the camp; indeed, the tents could surely be seen in any direction out on the lake. this gave him to understand that jim was not "taking water;" he had come here to this danger ground with the main idea of meeting his irate father-in-law face to face, be the consequences what they might, because his wife had begged him to; and there was as yet no sign of jim turning out to be what giraffe called a "quitter." everybody soon found plenty to do. the rest had enough pity for giraffe not to enter any complaint because he seemed to shirk his share of the ordinary labor attending the starting of the camp. they knew he had his hands full in solving what promised to be one of the greatest puzzles he had ever tackled. and so he was allowed to go off himself, and work his little saw monotonously right along. now it was the cord that failed to hold; again something else went back on poor giraffe. but he kept patiently at it, grimly determined; and even the most interested of the lot, bumpus, with whom the fire builder had laid his little wager, could not but feel a touch of admiration and sympathy when he saw how the tall scout kept at his task as the afternoon slipped away. when supper was announced giraffe came in smiling. "got it?" demanded bumpus, eagerly. "well, just as good as done," was the cautious reply. "i've mastered a heap of little irritating troubles; and just now the coast seems to be clear. next time, now, and you'll see something doing." "one more ribber to cross!" cooed step hen. "it's always 'next time,' with giraffe, you notice, fellows." but giraffe was either too tired to argue, or else so confident of a speedy success that he felt he could afford to bide his time. revenge would be very sweet, after all the chaff the fellows had poured upon his head. he would wait. the supper tasted unusually fine that night, they all declared. several of the scouts assisted in its preparation, wishing to show the guides just what knowledge of camp cookery they had picked up in their numerous outings. even bumpus superintended the heating of the "canoeist's delight," which turned out to be a hodge-podge, consisting of some left-over corned beef taken from a tin, some corn, and beans with several cold potatoes sliced in the same. and the hungry boys declared the only fault they could find with it was that it disappeared too soon. but they had an abundance for all hands, even giraffe admitting that he was satisfied when the meal was over. then came the several delightful hours of lying around, as close to the cheery blaze as they dared, and having a "good old fashioned powwow," as step hen called it. jim was quiet; but then he had never been a noisy fellow; and knowing what was on his mind right then, thad felt that he had plenty of excuse for deep thought. during a lull in the conversation later on, bumpus sat upright, and exclaimed: "there, did any of you hear it again; sure as you live it was the same long-drawn howl we caught on our other trip up the penobscot region; and sebattis, as well as all the rest, told us it was a wolf come down across the border from canada. how about it eli; was that one just then giving tongue?" the old guide had not moved an inch; indeed, he seemed to be very little concerned over the strange sound; but he nodded his shaggy head, and made reply: "yep, thet war a canady wolf all right; an' as they hunt in packs thar must be more on 'em raound these diggin's i spect." chapter viii. the uplift of a boy scout. they all listened, and heard the far-away howl several more times. eli even declared that it was not the same beast that gave tongue, but a different one; and this seemed to bear out his statement that the animals usually hunted in packs. if a bunch of them had crossed the st. johns river, and taken to chasing deer in the forbidden territory of maine, the tidings would soon spread, and every guide be on the lookout. "if so be ye run acrost ary wolves, knock 'em over like vermin," eli remarked, during the discussion of the subject that followed. "i guess everybody's got his hand raised against the poor old wolf, ain't they?" asked bumpus; who often felt sorry for the underdog in a fight, no matter if it happened to be a strange cur he had never set eyes on before. "why not?" asked thad, immediately; "when the wolf is no respecter of persons, and will pull down anything that can be used for food? the world over, they are hunted, because they do so much harm. it has always been so from the time the shepherds of bible times tended their flocks on the hills of galilee. and as long as living things stay on this old globe, man and wolf will never agree." "and in every state where they used to run, there has always been declared a fat bounty on wolves," allan observed. "why, right now, maine is paying large sums of money to get rid of her vermin, such as wolves, wildcats, panthers and snakes. i've read that as much as four hundred thousand dollars has been paid out in bounties since nineteen-three." "yes," laughed thad, "and that's where the joke comes in. i read that same article, which was mighty interesting too. it went on to state that some smarties are not content with getting the regular bounty. they grow a gray cat that looks on the order of the wild article--shorten the tail, draw out the claws, and then send in the skin, claiming the six dollars that is paid for each bobcat actually slain within the borders of the state." it was the turn of old eli to laugh now. "i heard tell o' a sharper as cut off the rattles from a lot o' tame snakes he kept shut up, and send 'em in for the bounties each rattle brings; and then he expects his pets ter grow new rattles, which howsumever, i don't guess they kin; but thet air story goes ter show what some men will try an' do ter beat the pore old government people." "whew! and i just can't stand for snakes at all," remarked step hen. "if ever i felt one touch me, i believe i'd nearly take a fit." "ha! let davy do that!" cried giraffe, quickly; at which there was a shout that must have made the two guides stare, until the joke was explained to them. it seemed that once upon a time davy had been subject to sudden severe cramps in his stomach, that used to double him up like a hinge, and render him incapable of action. his teachers at school had been duly warned, and many an afternoon had davy been granted leave to go home because of a sudden attack; though it must have departed as suddenly as it came; since he was generally seen flying his kite on that same afternoon. and the cramps never attacked him on a dull, rainy day. when he joined the scouts davy, wishing to shirk hard work, had commenced to have these queer cramps; but wise thad, believing that the other must long ago have outgrown the disorder, and was only shamming, laid down a course of treatment so severe that, singular to relate, davy had ever since been utterly free from the infliction; which the rest of the boys considered simply wonderful. and that was why there was a shout, with all eyes turned toward davy jones, when by mere accident step hen mentioned the word "fit." but davy only colored up a bit, and grinned amiably. "that's a dead issue, fellers, so you needn't stare at me that way," he remarked, composedly. "never again. thad cured me right off the reel. 'nothing like heroic treatment, when all else fails,' he said; and it did the job, clean as a whistle. i never can have a fit again, if i tried." "you'd better not," remarked bumpus, solemnly winking his left eye at step hen, and significantly touching a good-sized club he had at his side. but that howling of the wolves, hunting their supper far away, did not keep the boys from enjoying a good night's sleep. of course there was some sort of watch kept; but those who were not entrusted with the vigil had no reason to bother their heads over it. all night long they slept in absolute safety. if eli, jim, allan and the scoutmaster took turns being on deck, to make sure the camp was not raided, that fact did not keep the other four from slumbering as peacefully as though tucked in their beds at home, and under the parental roof. another dawn found them awake, and only too anxious to get a good warm fire started; for the frost was surely around them, and at that early hour it bit severely, too. but they could always depend on giraffe to coax the wood to do its best in dispelling the cold atmosphere; and soon they were no longer shivering, but fully dressed, and assisted in getting breakfast. thad cast his eye upward several times during the progress of the meal. "you seem to be anxious about something mr. scout master?" remarked step hen, who had been highly favored that morning, being chosen to accompany the leader on a hunt for fresh meat; and step hen was therefore more interested than the others in what seemed to have aroused the attention of thad. "i was wondering whether we mightn't get our first snow-storm before another sundown, that's all," replied the other, with a smile. "now, however could you tell that, when everything looks bright, and oh-be-joyful to me up yonder?" burst out the wondering bumpus. "well, there are some things one can know, partly by instinct, and find it pretty hard to explain," thad went on to say. "i seem to feel a something in the air that says 'snow' as plain as words. it may be just a sort of dampness; but that's the way about it. then i notice the direction of the wind, which is northwest; and the cut of those few cirrus clouds lying low near the horizon. i can't exactly explain so that you could understand, but if i was asked my opinion, i'd say we'll see the snow flakes flying before many hours." "how about that?" demanded step hen, turning on eli and jim. "he's right, 'cause thar's agoin' ter be summat o' a fall. p'raps 'twon't amount ter much, nobody kin tell that; but it sez snow, all right," the first guide observed, after taking a look all around. "me tew," was all jim said; but he accompanied the words with a vigorous nod in the affirmative, that stood for a lot. "that settles it," step hen declared. "i'm going out prepared for business. never did like to be snowed under, any way you take it." "too bad we ain't got a snow shovel along," remarked giraffe, sarcastically. "oh! you can joke all you want to," snapped back the other; "you're so lofty you needn't mind an ordinary snowfall. if it got up to your chin, you could still manage to stretch that rubber neck of yours around, and feel comfortable. but i ain't in the same class, you see, with my ordinary figure, and short neck. but all i meant to say was, that i'd keep my sweater on under my coat, and stick my woolen gloves in my pockets." "loan you my earmuffs if you say the word, step hen," spoke up bumpus. "well, now, that's decent of you, bumpus," the other scout remarked; "but you see, this old corduroy cap of mine has earflaps that can be turned down. it's just a bully thing for a cold, windy day. but after such a generous offer, bumpus, why, i give you my full permission to turn over your badge. you've begun the day bright and early, by trying to do a generous deed for a comrade." of course, what step hen referred to was the well-known rule by which the great body of members composing the boy scouts' organization of america has been governed, in order to teach the units of each patrol and troop the benefits to be derived from making themselves useful to others. in the morning every scout is supposed to pin his badge upside-down, on the lapel of his coat; and is not allowed to change its position until he has found an opportunity for helping some one, either by act, or advice that is really useful. it may only be a very simple thing; but it teaches the lad, first of all, the useful attribute of observation; and after that the still more precious one of service. even though he but assist an old man across a street where vehicles are numerous; or take a market basket from the hands of a housewife, who is staggering homeward under the heavy burden, the effect is the same. it makes his boyish heart thrill with a satisfaction that develops the trait of generosity; and gives every lad a more manly sensation; for he realizes that small though he may seem, he is of some value to the world. "oh!" said bumpus, blushing, "i guess i hadn't ought to take advantage of such a little thing as that, so's to get my badge turned. i'll find a chance to do something that's more worth while, before the morning's an hour old. and step hen, if you bring home the bacon in the shape of a noble six-pronged buck, you must let me take your picture, with your foot on the prize. why, it will be the most valuable heirloom in your family, years from now. your great grandchildren will point to it in pride, and tell how you slew the jabberwock in the woods of maine." "well," grinned step hen, "wait till i get the buck. i don't count my chickens before they're hatched. and i hope for one thing--that when we do come back, there's going to be a little peace in the camp; and that our friend giraffe here, will have solved the riddle that's been worrying him so long. them's my sentiments." giraffe made a mock bow, as he remarked in his most amiable way: "much obliged for making that wish, step hen; and from present indications i've got a sort of hunch that something is going to happen along them lines. woke up in the night after having a dream, and it all came to me like a flash, where i'd been making a mistake. and as soon as i get through eating, i'm going to work trying to start things just like i saw in my dream. oh! i'll get there, sooner or later, by hook or by crook. you never saw me give a thing up yet." "hey! what's that?" remarked davy jones, quickly. "how about that time you got in old farmer collins' watermelon patch one night, and hooked a nice big melon he had doctored, so as to teach the boys a lesson. oh! i know, because i was along with the crowd; and seems to me you gave up everything you owned, during that never-to-be-forgotten hour. i know i did; and i've never eaten a melon since without shivering." "say, quit that melancholy subject, won't you?" demanded bumpus. "i don't like to be reminded of my wicked past, because i've turned over a new leaf since i joined the scouts. why, you couldn't tempt me now with the biggest grandfather watermelon ever grown. b-r-r! it makes me shake, just to remember some things that happened in those old days, when i went with giraffe, and davy jones, and the rest of that lark-loving crowd." half an hour afterwards thad and step hen started out, guns in hand. knowing that the patrol leader was perfectly at home in the woods, no one bothered about giving them advice; or predicting all manner of direful calamities ahead. let it snow and blow as it pleased, thad was enough of a woodsman to know how to make himself comfortable, and get back to the camp on the lake shore in due season. of course bumpus had been more or less disappointed because he did not have an early chance to prove the merits of his new gun, since he had been taking private lessons from one of the guides in the way of handling firearms. but thad had promised that the fat boy and giraffe should have the next chance for a hunt; they were canoemates, and seemed often thrown together, perhaps because they represented the "fat and the lean of it," and as bumpus was fond of saying, "extremes meet." half an hour later, and the two young nimrods had managed to get a couple of miles from the camp. but as yet they had not sighted that wonderful six-pronged buck which step hen was to lay low. they walked along about fifty feet apart, thad generously allowing his companion to be a little in advance of him. this he did really because he wished step hen to have the advantage of the first shot; being confident that if the other failed to bring down the game he would still have some show before the deer could vanish from sight. then again, it was just as well to have step hen in front. he was inclined to be nervous; and some sudden whirr of wings, as a partridge flew out of a nearby thicket, might cause his finger to press on the trigger of his gun a little harder than he intended. thad believed in being on the safe side, every time. step hen carried a lovely little repeating rifle of the thirty-thirty type; and his ammunition was of the soft-nosed kind, which, as it "mushrooms" on striking, is just as serviceable as a ball three times as large; while thad had his double-barrel marlin shotgun, a twelve bore, with buckshot shells meant for big game. as they were passing through what seemed to be a tangle such as is seldom met with in the pine woods of maine, where they had to dodge trailing vines, step hen, in trying to avoid one that threatened to catch him by the neck, managed to stumble over a log, and go sprawling forward, his gun flying from his grip, but fortunately not going off. but immediately step hen commenced to thresh around, as he shouted out: "thad! oh! thad, hurry up, and help me out of this! my legs are twisted in the vine; and something bit me! i know it must a been a rattlesnake, and i'm a goner!" chapter ix. step hen's great luck. "snakes! well, step hen, you're away off, if you think they're ever found out, with the weather as biting as it is right now!" laughed thad; who sized up the situation instantly, and knew full well there was nothing of the sort the matter with his hunting companion. "well, anyway, _something_ gave me a bite, and you can see the blood on my hand right now, thad," whined step hen, crawling once more into view, and looking as though he could not be convinced to the contrary of his statement, just because of a little frost. he held up his left hand as he spoke. thad took hold of it, and with those keen eyes of his, managed to grapple with the facts immediately. "you only managed to strike up against a sliver of wood, and got a splinter in your hand," he declared; "see here, i can show you," saying which he used the nails of his finger and thumb for a forceps, and drew out a little splinter that had pushed under the skin, just far enough to bring a drop or two of blood, and give step hen a sharp pain. "oh! thank you, thad!" exclaimed the other, as though vastly relieved. "you see, i just detest all kinds of crawlers the worst kind; and that talk about rattlers, and the bounty paid for their tails, must have been hanging on my mind. when i felt that sudden sharp jab, of course the first thing that flashed into my brain was that i'd tumbled on the nest of a rattlesnake, and he took me for one of the bounty jumpers. but only a sliver of wood--huh, i can stand that easy enough." "suck it good and plenty," advised the far seeing thad. "i always do as soon as i get a cut of any kind, and especially if it's a splinter. sometimes it keeps you from getting poison in your system, that makes a bad sore." step hen obediently did as he was told. at least he had implicit confidence in the patrol leader, and was ready to follow his advice under the slightest provocation. that was a feather in the cap of thad brewster, in that he possessed the full confidence of his comrades. they believed in him, and were never in a state of mutiny concerning the orders he gave, as leader of the silver fox patrol. once more the two boys tramped on. thad thought it might be as well to impart a little useful information concerning the dormant condition of all snakes during winter time; and how many a bunch of the wrigglers he had found, while the cold season was on, looking as though they were frozen stiff. this information he imparted in almost a whisper as they moved along. when out looking for deer, a muffler on speech is of paramount importance; and knowing all about this, thad soon relapsed into silence. "tell you more some other time, step hen," he remarked as a wind-up; "that is, if you care to hear more about snakes. no matter how you dislike the breed, you really ought to know more than you seem to, about their habits. it might be the means of saving you from trouble some fine day, when, by accident, you happen to run across some reptile in the woods. and now we'll forget all that. i'm not going to say another word, unless i have to." they kept pushing on; and step hen began to believe they must be many miles from their starting point; at any rate he began to feel a little heavy-footed, though too proud to mention the fact to thad. besides, step hen had walked pretty good distances before, and believed that he must soon get what he called his "second wind." after that he would be good for hours, he fancied. it must have been well on to eleven o'clock when thad felt his companion nudge him in the back. as he turned to look, step hen made a suggestive gesture with his head, and pointed upwards. there was a dead gray sky above them, and already a few scattered flakes of snow, really the first of the season, were drifting downward, looking like tiny feathers plucked from the downy breast of a snow goose. thad simply nodded his head to indicate that he too had observed them; and at the same time he shook his finger toward step hen, afraid lest the other might be itching to start a conversation. in fact, this was just what the other scout was hoping to do. this grim silence had begun to work upon his nerves--just walking on and on, with not a blessed sign of the fine buck they expected to get, commenced to pall upon step hen, in whom the instincts of a hunter had never been born; although of late he had begun to develop a taste for roaming the woods with a gun over his shoulder. but he had much to learn concerning the secrets that nature hides from most eyes, but which are as the page of an open book to the favored few. step hen began to twist his head around frequently. at first thad thought he was developing a new eagerness to discover signs of game; but then he soon saw that the wistful expression on the other's face was brought about by quite a different cause. to tell the honest truth about it, step hen was trying to figure out in his benighted brain just what the cardinal points of the compass might be. it was not that he possessed any alarming interest in proving certain facts thad and allan had explained, concerning the fascinating game of learning where the north lay by marks on the trees; the general direction in which they slanted; signs of moss on the north or northwest side of the tree, and various other well proven methods of locating one's self. oh! nothing of the kind. step hen wanted to find out one particular fact. they had started _north_ when leaving camp; and now, if he could only learn that they were heading due south, it would tell him that thad had swung around, and was facing back home again; and thus he would not be under the painful necessity of informing his companion that he was tired of the useless hunt, when nothing worth while showed up. and then it happened! step hen happened to have his eyes in the right quarter when suddenly a fine big buck sprang to its feet, and stared at them a second or two, before starting to spring away. they had been heading up into the wind all the time, which was a part of thad's principle as a true still hunter; and the deer had not known of their presence until the greenhorn happened to step on a small branch, which snapped under his weight. possibly step hen never really knew just how he did it. indeed, he afterwards confessed to himself that his ready little rifle just seemed to swing upward to his shoulder by some instinct, which was probably the exact truth; for hunters seldom have time to do any thinking. he saw that splendid deer standing there before him. now, step hen had often fired a target rifle at just such a picture of a deer as this in the shooting gallery in cranford. and when he took a hasty aim just behind the shoulder of the startled buck, he was really following out his usual custom of covering the bull's-eye on the artificial deer, so familiar to his boyish eyes. bang! went the rifle, as he pressed the trigger. thad had his double-barreled gun in readiness, and could have supplemented the shot of step hen by pouring in a broadside of small bullets that must have dropped the animal in his tracks. but he refrained, for his instinct seemed to tell him that the missile from step hen's little rifle had struck home, as the buck gave a convulsive leap, and pitched over; and thad knew how much a new beginner in the game delights in the knowledge that he has accomplished the work of bringing down a deer unassisted. true, the buck managed to scramble to its feet again, and run; but even then the patrol leader held his fire, for he knew that the animal could not go more than a hundred or two feet before it must drop. "i rung the bell then, thad; didn't you hear me?" almost shrieked step hen, so excited that he never once thought of pumping the exploded cartridge from the firing chamber of his repeating rifle, and sending a fresh one in after it; and then, as the stricken buck scrambled to his feet again, and went off at a wobbling gait the astonished and dismayed step hen, who should have been prepared to send in another shot on his own account, actually forgot that he held a rifle calculated to repeat, and wildly besought his chum to fire. "oh! there he's going to get away after all, thad!" he cried, jumping up and down in his excitement; "why don't you blaze away, and knock my buck over? thad, oh, do let him have it good and hard! there, now he's gone, and we've lost him! it's a shame, that's what it is, when i so nearly got him. and he had six prongs too! oh, me! oh, my! what tough luck!" "don't worry, step hen," said thad, quickly; "that deer can't get away. you shot him to pieces, and he's just bound to drop before five minutes. we'll just follow him up, and find him lying as dead as----" just what thad had in mind as a comparison step hen never knew. perhaps he was going to say "as dead as a door nail," that being a favorite expression among the scouts; or it might be thad meant to take a little flight into ancient history, and compare the condition of that buck inside of five minutes with the julius caesar of olden roman times. it did not matter. he was interrupted by a sudden loud explosion. the sound came from the quarter in which the buck had just gone, and could not have been far distant. and even the tenderfoot understood what it meant. "oh! listen to that, would you, thad?" he burst forth with. "there's somebody else hunting up in this neck of the woods, and they've got my fine buck! now, ain't that the worst thing ever; and just when it began to look as if he ought to belong to me, too; for you said he was hard hit; and i just know i rung the bell with that bullet. and now i reckon it's all off. oh! why _didn't_ you knock him over when you had the chance, thad?" "i sure would if i'd had the least suspicion that there was any other hunter around these diggings," declared thad, with a frown on his usually smooth brow; for he instantly began to scent trouble. "but come on, let's start along, and see what it all means. perhaps now old eli, or jim may have wandered out to take a little side hunt." "but anyway, it's _my_ buck, thad; you said i got him!" grumbled step hen, as he started after his leader. they had no trouble in following in the direction taken by the stricken deer; even step hen, upon having his attention directed to the ground by thad, could readily discern the trail of blood spots that told how the buck had been badly hurt by the shot back of the shoulder. and less than three minutes later the two scouts came upon a scene that caused thad to frown; while step hen's mouth opened with surprise, even as his eyes were unduly dilated in his intense excitement. chapter x. bare-faced robbery in the maine woods. three men were bending over the dead deer, and all of them carried rifles. they were a rough-looking set, all told; and any one would know at a glance that they could not be city sportsmen, up here in the maine woods on a hunt; but must belong to the native class of guides, loggers, or possibly something worse. one of them was in truth a giant; and as soon as thad set eyes on this individual he knew that his worst fears were about to be realized. this could be no other than the big poacher, old cale martin, the man whom the game wardens seemed to dread like poison, and had never yet dared arrest, though his breaking of the laws had become notorious all through that section where he roamed. despite his sensation of acute alarm, thad surveyed the man with more or less interest and curiosity. he had heard so much about his doings that he would have actually felt a certain degree of disappointment had he gone away from maine and never met cale martin. then, what jim hasty had told him, added to his desire to look upon the face of little lina's awful father. no doubt step hen must also have jumped at some sort of right conclusion with regard to the identity of the three men. the unusual size of the leader was quite enough in itself to tell who they must be. thad did not halt long upon sighting the others, but walked forward. even though poachers, this did not mean that the three men were desperate outlaws by any means. no doubt they walked in and out of the villages in this extreme northern section of the state, and were greeted by those who knew them as fellow guides, though seldom were any of them employed in such a capacity nowadays. step hen tagged at the heels of his chum. he did not know what thad might be going to do; but although white of face just then, with a sudden fear of trouble, at least step hen showed no sign of running away. the three men looked up as the boys approached. all of them seemed to be grinning, as though amused. but while the big man really looked somewhat as a mastiff might appear to a little terrier, his two companions had a sneer on their dark, evil faces that gave thad more or less uneasiness. he knew that while step hen was entitled to that fine buck, the chances were his claim would never be considered for a single minute. might made right in the maine woods, with men of this stamp. "hullo! younkers, lookin' arter yer deer, hey?" remarked the giant, as the boys boldly approached. "wall, they hain't any, d'ye see? we got a fine leetle buck here as si fetched down with his big bore cannon; only fur him the deer's been in ther next county afore now, eh, si?" and the giant as he said this, turned on the man who wore the greasy suit of buckskin, and sported a coonskin cap, after the style of the old-time hunters, now so nearly extinct. "that's right, cale, he'd a ben agoin' like two-forty yet, on'y for the ounce of lead i throwed into him on the jump. i guess as haow that leetle pepper box jest tickled him a mite, an' made him feel frisky. step right up, an' take a look at _my_ buck, ef so be yeou wanter, strangers; i hain't begrudgin' yeou that much conserlation; but doan't yeou be sayin' yeou had any hand in knockin' him over, 'cause i don't stand fur any foolishness, see?" he looked particularly ugly when saying this last, and thad knew there was not the slightest shadow of a chance that they would get justice from these fellows. seeing the sadly wounded deer plunging blindly toward them, si had fired at the animal, and now they claimed to own the prize! well, there was no use trying to make a fuss over it; two boys could hardly expect to overawe three such hardened woods' rangers as these. nevertheless, for his own satisfaction thad accepted the rude invitation of si kedge to advance closer, so that he could stand over the deer. something caught his eye as he looked, and bending down he deftly took the object from the motionless body of the deer, just back of the shoulder, where a patch of blood appeared. thad held the object up so that all could see. even step hen recognized it as the mushroomed bullet that had been fired from his rifle. the evidence was as positive and clear as noonday; for that bullet, after spreading out, had bored completely through the body of the buck, and was ready to drop from the other side when it caught the sharp eye of thad. and that other wound in the neck must have been where the boasted large calibre bullet from si's big gun had gone, producing only a superficial hurt that would not have seriously inconvenienced the sturdy buck. "oh! that's my bullet!" exclaimed step hen, hardly comprehending what a storm his words might bring about their ears; "and just as you said, thad, i hit him in the side where his heart lies. that would have killed him in a short time, i just guess, don't you, thad?" but thad did not make any answer. he was keeping his eyes on the three men, even while dropping the spread-out bullet into his pocket to show it to eli and jim and allan when they returned to camp, as proof that the glory of killing the fine six-pronged buck really belonged to step hen. the giant actually gave a little chuckle. evidently he admired the nerve shown by this half-grown lad; for like most big men cale martin could on occasion, exhibit a sense of generosity toward those smaller than himself. with just that brief chance to see what the three poachers looked like, thad was able to size them up along different lines. he believed that si and ed were both shallow brained bullies, with revengeful natures; but that cale martin, while known as a desperate man, was really more so through his association with such rascals as these, than for any other cause. and thad chanced to know just why he had doubly earned this reputation for ugliness during the last year or so; jim hasty's running away with his little girl, lina, had been the last straw that broke the camel's back; since it had made old cale feel reckless, and as though he cared no longer for anything in this world. "what d'ye think of that, si," burst out the other fellow, who had not spoken, up to now; "the pesky critter is aclaimin' as how his friend sent that bullet through ther buck's ribs, w'en we all know 'twar from yer gun." the shorter poacher gritted his teeth, and looked daggers at thad. he even made a significant movement with his heavy rifle, which the boy saw was of the repeating pattern, and had the hammer raised at that moment. "i doan't stand for any sech talk ez that," he declared, with savage energy; "an' ef ther cubs knows what is good fur 'em, they'll turn tail, an' mosey outen this here region some quick. scat naow! an' be mighty keerful haow yeou start tew claimin' a deer agin, what another man shot. it's sumpin that ain't goin' ter be allowed up here in the woods. i gives yeou fair warnin' tew change base, an' clar out." "come on, thad, let's move along!" exclaimed step hen, who was white in the face, and trembling more or less. of course, the patrol leader was far too smart to think of trying to defy that ugly lot. at the same time thad showed no sign of fear as he turned and gave the bully of the woods one sneering look, as though plainly telling him what he thought. indeed, it seemed to stir the ire of the man who claimed to have killed the deer, for with a snort, he started to throw up his gun, as if bent on threatening mischief, unless the boys ran in a hurry. but it was the hand of the giant that grasped the gun, and turned it aside. "don't ye try it, si," roared old cale. "we done enuff as 'tis, atakin' ther game away from 'em, without layin' a hand on ther hides. but ye'd better skip out, as si sez, younkers. an' say, wile i think o' it, jest tell thet sneak, jim hasty, fur me, thet i'm agoin' ter keep my word 'bout them ears o' his'n. i'll larn him what it means ter defy old cale martin." for the life of him thad could not help making some sort of reply to this. "i'll carry your message, just as you say," he went on; "but let me tell you right here and now, you never made a bigger mistake in your life when you call jim hasty a sneak or a coward. would a coward dare come up here, when he knew how you hated him, and had it in for him? i guess not much. fact is, jim's got a message for you; somebody's sent him up here! and he meant to hunt you up, and see you face to face. a coward! well, i guess not." and without giving the giant a chance to say another word thad wheeled, striding away, with the nervous step hen at his side, casting many an anxious glance back over his shoulder, as though not quite convinced that the warlike si might not think it best after all to shoot after them. but ten minutes later, and the two boys were well away from the spot which had come very near looking upon a tragedy. "how do you feel about it now?" asked thad. "what do you mean?" inquired the other. "i'm as sore as can be about losing my lovely six-pronged buck, and knocked over all by myself, too. wouldn't i just like to give it to that low-down liar of a si kedge, though, for saying that was his bullet, when anybody could see that it came from my rifle? why, he only pinked the deer in the neck, because i could see the mark. oh! the thieves, the miserable skunks, to cheat me out of my prize! i'll never, never get over this, thad!" "oh! yes you will, step hen," remarked the other, soothingly, for he felt that the bare-faced robbery had been a terrible shock to his companion. "but what i meant when i asked that, was, do you want to head toward camp now; have you had enough hunting for to-day?" "now, i know you're saying that, thad, just to let me down easy," declared the other. "i acknowledge that i was beginning to get tired, up to the time i killed that deer; but it's all passed away now. the excitement did it for me; and i've got my second wind." "then you want to keep on hunting?" asked the scoutmaster, feeling that step hen was exhibiting considerable grit under the circumstances, and delighted to see this same brought out by the ill turn fortune had given him. "sure i do," instantly replied the other. "i'm just wild to get another chance to knock over a six-pronged buck; and now that i know the ropes, it's easy as falling off a log. looks like this snow ain't agoing to amount to much, after all; and we've got pretty nearly half a day ahead of us yet. so let's keep on for a while. when i get a little tired, we'll stop to eat our snack of grub, when i can rest up, and be ready for another hour or two. but i'm afraid my luck has turned, and we won't sight another deer this blessed day; do you, thad?" "we'll hope to, at any rate," replied the other, as he started off again; "and it's that constant expectation of starting up game that makes hunting all it's cracked up to be. so come along, step hen; and if we fail to bring in our share of venison it won't be because we lay down too easy. now for quiet again, remember, and keep a constant lookout ahead." chapter xi. overtaken by darkness. it must have been a long time after the noon hour when step hen did as he had promised, called a halt in order that they might eat their lunch, and take a rest. as the cold was still with them, though the snow had thus far amounted to but little, step hen insisted on starting a small fire, at which they could sit, and be comfortable, while they devoured the food provided for the midday meal. "you make a fire as quick as the next one, step hen," admitted thad, really meaning what he said, and at the same time wishing to raise the drooping spirits of his hunting mate, who was feeling very sore over the loss of his game. "oh! i don't pretend to know much about starting a blaze in half a dozen styles, the way giraffe's got it down pat," observed the other, smiling a little; "but if you pin me down to going at it the easiest way, with matches, and dead pine cones, why i'm there every time. and say, it does feel some handy, don't it, thad?" they sat there, and chatted for quite a long time after they had consumed the last morsel of food. and during that resting spell step hen picked up many a crumb of useful knowledge concerning the ways of the woods. thad did not know all that allan hollister had learned through practical experience; but he had made the most of his opportunities when belonging to that other troop of scouts; and never forgot what he learned. "let's be agoin' on again," remarked step hen, finally, scrambling to his feet, and picking up his little rifle with a new eagerness. "feel like another spell of it, eh?" asked the patrol leader, following suit. "that's what i do," replied the other. "nothing like a rest, and a bite, when you're pretty near played out. i'm feeling fine and dandy again, and ready for several hours' hard tramping. but something just seems to tell me we'll never again have such a chance to get a six-pronged buck as that. and to think how it should a been just what the boys were telling me to knock over. i wonder now----" "what?" asked thad, as his chum came to a sudden stop. "p'raps you'll say i'm silly if i tell you; but anyhow, here goes, thad. it just struck me all of a sudden that we might go back to where we lost our deer, and do a little trailing on our own account. them three fellers wouldn't bother trying to hide their tracks, and chances are they've gone into camp to eat some of that venison by this time, if not sooner." thad smiled; he could not help it, upon hearing step hen talk in this strain; for only too plainly did he remember how white the other had been, and how even his voice trembled when he spoke, while facing those three poachers. "and after we've managed to track them to their camp, what then?" he demanded. step hen looked wonderfully brave as he instantly replied: "why, we might catch 'em off their guard, and hold 'em up. that deer belongs to _me_, and i'd just like to have it the worst kind, especially that head, with the six-pronged antlers on it. but if you thought that proposition a little too risky, thad, why we might conclude to wait around, keeping under cover, till it got plumb dark. then we could carry off as much of the buck as we could tote, including the head; and them fellers not be any the wiser for it, till it was too late to follow us! how's that?" thad nearly had his breath taken away by the boldness of step hen's astonishing proposals. he looked at the other, and a smile spread completely across his face. then he puckered up his lips, and gave a little whistle, that somehow caused step hen to turn a bit red in the face. "whew!" ejaculated thad, "i never before suspected what a fire-eater you could be, step hen. why, nothing fazes you, nowadays. i believe you'd be ready to snap your fingers in the faces of a dozen of the worst rascals that ever hid up here in the piney woods of maine. but i'm afraid that's too risky a job for me to back up, as the leader of the patrol. i feel the burden of responsibility too much to allow it. what could i say to your father and mother if there was no step hen to answer to the roll-call, when we mustered out after this maine hunt? so, on the whole, step hen, much as i hate to disappoint you, i'm afraid i'll have to put a damper on your scheme." "oh! all right, thad," quickly remarked the other, with an evident vein of relief in his voice; "i was only telling you what came into my head. you see, that's the way with me; i'm always having these brilliant plans, though my own good sense won't let me try to carry them out. so we'll just continue our old hunt; and hope another buck may heave in sight. but if one does, please let fly the same time i shoot, thad; because we hadn't ought to take any chances of his getting away. you will, won't you, thad?" "why, yes, i think i'm entitled to a shot by now, step hen," replied the other; "seeing that i held back purposely, so as to let you have all the glory of getting that first prize. but as you say, we need venison; and the next time we'll shoot together so's to make sure." "good! then let's be moving, thad." since step hen was so set upon doing everything in their power to retrieve the misfortune that had come upon them earlier in the day, by means of which they had lost the first deer, thad meant to try his level best in order to run across another like prize. whenever he saw a piece of ground that looked more than ordinarily promising he would head that way, regardless of distance or direction. little thad cared as to whether they were able to return to camp that night or not. he had spent too many nights in the open, not to feel certain that he could manage to be at least fairly comfortable. and then, too, thad had the hunter's instinct pretty fully developed, and thought little of fatigue when pursuing his favorite sport. they kept moving in this way until the afternoon began to be pretty well spent. thad would not think of offering again to head toward the camp on the shore of the lake, so long as step hen made no complaint. he could not afford to be outdone by a tenderfoot, and he the patrol leader at that. indeed, the gray of evening had commenced to spread around them when, with no more warning than before, they came upon a second buck that had possibly been lying down in the bushes. the deer sprang away like lightning, and perhaps it was just as well that step hen had asked his companion to shoot with him; for the flitting buck made rather a difficult target to hit in that poor light. so close together did the two lads fire that the reports blended, though the louder bang of the smooth-bore partly drowned the sharper report of the little repeating rifle. thad started to run forward, holding his gun in readiness for a second discharge, if such were needed. step hen trailed along after him, working desperately with his pump-gun; and like most excitable greenhorns, trying every which way to work the simple mechanism but the right way, in his eagerness to get the weapon in serviceable condition again. "oh! _did_ we get him, thad?" he cried; for possibly the smoke of the double discharge had interfered with his vision, and he did not know whether the deer had dropped, or sped unharmed out of sight, even before the alert thad could give him the contents of his second barrel. "looks like we'll have venison for supper to-night, anyway," laughed thad. and then, step hen, looking more closely ahead, saw a slight movement on the ground, which he realized must be the last expiring kick of their quarry. his spirits arose at once, and he gave a wild whoop of joy. "bully! bully!" he exclaimed, as he still ran forward after his chum; "we did get him all right, didn't we, thad? and i'd just like to see any woods' thief try to hook _this_ deer away from us. don't you let 'em do it, thad, will you, even if we have to fight for it?" "don't worry," said thad, as they came to a halt over the fallen buck; "we're not going to have any trouble--not from that source, anyway." if step hen had been less excited he might have noticed that the words of his companion seemed to admit of their having trouble of another kind; but just then the tenderfoot was too much wrapped up in other things. "oh! that's too bad, thad!" he remarked. "what is?" asked the other; "both of us hit him, all right; for there's the place your bullet went in; and these smaller holes show where my buckshot struck." "but look at his antlers, would you, thad?" the other went on; "why, this is only a two-year-old, i sure reckon, because he's got only two prongs on his horns." "well so much the better for us, when we start to eat him," chuckled thad; "because the meat'll be just that much more tender, you see." "then let's get busy, and cut him up, thad," step hen went on. "seems to me night's coming right along down on us; and the chances are we'll be awful late getting back to camp." what thad really thought he did not take the trouble to mention; but no doubt he had long before then made up his mind that they would never make camp that evening, for he felt that step hen must be nearly all in. he did start to work, however, and with the other to assist in various ways, managed to get the deer cut up, after a fashion. the meat they expected to carry with them, together with the head, which step hen would not think of leaving behind, was made up into two packs, so that each of them might carry a fair portion. by that time it was pitch dark. indeed, step hen had to kindle another little fire of dry pine cones in order that the operation of getting the meat secured might be brought to a finish. "wow! just look how dark it is!" exclaimed step hen, when finally thad announced that he was ready to go on, after getting his bearings, which he did easily by sighting the north star, the clouds having very conveniently disappeared, and all present danger of a heavy snowfall vanishing with their going. step hen was rather slow and clumsy about getting his load fastened, and thad had to assist him. he knew full well what was the matter. the other was really dead tired, and could hardly put one foot before the other without a great effort. he had been artificially kept up by the excitement until the game was secured, and now the reaction was setting in. they had been slowly moving along for about ten minutes, when from a little distance away there broke out a strange sound that, heard under those peculiar conditions, struck step hen as more blood-curdling than he had ever thought it before, when sitting safely in a camp beside a cozy fire, and surrounded by comrades. it was that same long-drawn howl of the canada gray wolf; and as he listened to a second answering cry from another quarter, somehow step hen found himself shuddering. chapter xii. brought to bay by wolves. "ooh! how awfully queer them howls seem, thad!" remarked step hen, presently, just as the patrol leader expected he would; for he had a pretty good idea as to what was just passing in the mind of the tenderfoot. "well, they do sound different somehow, from what they did when we were sitting around the cheery camp-fire, listening to stories told by the guides," thad admitted. "but then, wolves as a rule are cowardly brutes. they may do a heap of howling, but they seldom show any bravery. only when in packs are they feared by hunters, away up in the frozen-up parts of canada, i'm told." "but, say, don't you think there's a pack around here, right now?" demanded step hen, apprehensively. "what makes you ask that?" the other questioned. "why, in the first place, old eli told us they never came away down here unless in numbers; and then again, thad, didn't you notice that when one gave tongue over yonder to the right, a second answered him back from the left; and by jinks! listen to that, would you, a third and a fourth, as sure as you live! say, they're all around us, thad; they've got us surrounded!" "let 'em surround, if it does 'em any good," laughed the other; and if he felt the slightest bit of uneasiness himself on account of those wolfish howls, thad at least managed to conceal it; because he knew step hen was feeling "creepy" enough as it was, without having his alarm augmented by seeing his companion concerned. "but don't you think they might be able to pull us down just by force of numbers, thad?" the other went on. "oh! there can't be any such bunch of the cowardly brutes around, as all that, i guess, step hen. and don't forget, please, that we're armed with weapons calculated to knock the spots out of any gray sneak that ever tried to steal venison won by two husky hunters. think how you have six bullets in that little gun of yours; and each one ought to count for a wolf, if it came to the worst." "oh! there's where i was a fool!" said step hen, in a disgusted tone. "what's that?" demanded his chum, stopping short. "why, i never stuck a blessed cartridge in my pocket, you see. thought the six i had in the magazine of the gun would be good and plenty for all the needs i'd run up against. now i wish i had the whole hundred along. just my luck. i'm always losing things, and if it ain't anything else, it must be chances. think of a hundred dead wolves, and all killed with this great little gun while i sat perched up in the crotch of a nice tree! it makes me sick to think of it, that's what, thad." "are you sure you did put six cartridges in the magazine before we left?" asked the other. "well, that's what i meant to do, and i reckon i did, all right; though giraffe was joking me at the time, and he might have upset my calculations," step hen admitted. "well, then, suppose you drop your bundle of meat, and take a look," advised thad. "if it gets to warm quarters it's just as well that you know how many wolves you can account for. throw them out in one, two, three order, now." so step hen began working the mechanism of his little gun. not being excited, he was able to do this excellently. with the first cast a cartridge flew out of the rejecting opening; but when he tried to repeat, nothing happened. he looked at the gun blankly, and tried twice more; but with the same result. "no use," remarked thad, grimly; "nothing doing, it seems. when you _thought_ you put six cartridges in the magazine, you stopped at three. and just such little mistakes have cost many a hunter his life before now, let me tell you, step hen." "oh! mercy, what do you mean, thad?" asked the other, alarmed. "why, suppose now, several wolves were rushing at you with open mouths; and when you stood there, feeling able to take care of them all, your gun missed fire, not because it went back on you, but through your silly fault in not making sure it was fed to the limit when you started; things would look kind of gloomy just then, wouldn't they?" "i'll never go out without being dead sure my magazine is plumb full; and a handful in my pocket besides, catch me again," said step hen, solemnly. "that's a good resolution to make, and see to it that you remember it. but all the same, my boy, it isn't helping us any just now. you've got one bullet, and i advise you to hang on to that to the bitter end. let me do most of the shooting, if it ever comes to it, which i hope it won't; because i've got a belt full of all sorts of shells, from buckshot to number sevens. now, shall we go on again?" "sure," replied step hen, cheerfully. but when he had managed to get his arms through the loops of his bundle, and began to heave it up on his back, he groaned audibly, so that thad knew full well they would hardly make camp that night, at least not without several rests by the way. "how far d'ye think it is, thad?" asked step hen a few minutes later, as he dragged along behind the other. "well, i can't just tell," replied thad. "it may be only three miles, and then again perhaps it would tally up twice that. we're going to strike the lake shore by keeping on as we are; but just how far away from camp, gets me. like as not we can sight their fire, and give the boys a hail that will fetch a canoe for us." "whee! wish that blessed canoe was here right now," murmured poor step hen. "you're pretty near at the end of your rope, ain't you?" asked thad. "that's right, i acknowledge the corn, thad. i never was so dead tired in all my life. but i've still got the grit to keep along as far as i c'n put one foot in front of the other." "good for you; we'll try it a little further, and see," thad went on. he was chuckling to himself even while he spoke; for he knew full well that, although it pleased the tenderfoot to call it "grit," in truth it was fear of those lurking, howling wolves that was driving step hen to making these astonishing efforts. after all there is absolutely nothing like fear to make a laggard run like a marathon sprinter. it has even effected cures in people supposed to be paralyzed, as thad remembered reading not a great while before. they continued on for some time longer; but from the increasing puffing and grunting that came from the region where step hen was staggering along, it was evident that he was about ready to give up. "thad!" he gasped, presently. "yes, what is it, step hen?" "here's a tree," remarked the other; "i mean one that's got limbs near the ground, and not like these other tall ghostly pines that i'd need a lineman's spurs to shin up." thad stopped for a minute. "well, if you can't walk on any further, step hen, say so, and i'll get up something that ought to keep the wolves away; but of course, if you're ready to call quits, why i suppose we'll have to climb up here, and squat like a couple of owls all night." the prospect evidently did not please step hen any too well; besides, he still retained a shred of his former pride. so he bristled up as he made answer, saying: "why, of course i c'n go on for quite a distance yet, if you think there's any use of it, thad. now, what was you agoin' to do, you said?" "under this pine tree, you see, that's been badly used in some storm, there are a lot of branches lying. we can knock off a couple of the ones that look like they might burn pretty well, and use 'em for torches. let's get busy and see if it'll work." at any rate it gave step hen another chance to rest up, and get his breath. he still clung to that heavy deer's head with its antlers. step hen could be a most obstinate fellow when he chose; and having once made up his mind, it was like trying to move the rock of gibraltar to change it. after considerable effort, and the wasting of many matches, so as to get the pine cones and needles started into a blaze, on account of the night wind that kept blowing them out as fast as step hen lighted them, the torches were finally made an accomplished fact. "wave it around some more, and the wind is going to keep it going," advised thad; "besides, the swinging motion will warn the wolves to keep away, if they don't want to get their old hides singed. now, if you're feeling fit, we'll make another stab at getting over the ground." still thad knew they would not go far before something else would happen; and he really expected that sooner or later they would have to do battle with the hungry four-footed denizens of the pine woods that had scented their fresh meat, and gave signs of meaning to possess some of it, no matter at what cost. so thad bent his mind on figuring out what they had better do if it came down to a halt. he knew that once they went into camp they could build several fires, so as to virtually surround themselves with a circle of flames, across which no wolf that ever lived would have the daring to jump. and consequently thad did not feel so deeply concerned about how things would come out as his comrade did. "did you hear that and wasn't it a nasty snarl, though?" demanded step hen after possibly five minutes more had passed. "yes, i heard it, and i suppose the beasts are closing in now," thad replied. "closing in! oh! my gracious! thad, we had ought to be finding a good tree like that jim dandy one i wanted to climb, when you said no. these torches ain't agoin' to last much longer; and i don't believe the critters care about 'em anyway. hadn't we better change the programme, thad?" "well, one thing i object to," the other answered; "after going to all this trouble to get venison, and losing our first deer to those woods' pirates, i don't feel like letting these measly wolves share in this second lot." "them's my sentiments exactly, thad; but tell me how we're agoin' to prevent 'em, won't you? if it comes right down to brass tacks we've just got to think of saving our own lives, first of all, and let the precious meat go. but then, if we found a tree, we might hang it up before climbing among the branches ourselves. then, while they were jumping, and trying to snatch it down, we could be peppering the bunch like fun." "leave it to me, step hen; i've got a plan worth two of that; though we might as well stop under this tree to try out; and if it comes to the worst we can climb up. but i don't think it's going to be necessary. throw down your bundle, now, and get busy. we're going to have a fire, two, three of 'em; and squatting in the middle of the string, we'll just cook us some of this tender young buck, and snap our fingers at mr. wolf. if he gets too brash, why, we'll give him a card with our compliments. hurry up, and get a fire going, while i stand guard over you, step hen." chapter xiii. the fire circle. "that's me, all right, thad; i'll have a spark going the quickest ever, if that old wind only holds up a bit. here's aplenty of loose stuff, to begin with, that i can kick together. wait till i stick my torch in this crotch of the tree. just as well to have some light to work by," and as he kept up this running fire of talk, step hen was busying himself right swiftly. for the moment he forgot all his aches and pains, and worked like a trojan; indeed, no defender of ancient troy ever had more urgent reason for getting things going than step hen thought he did just at that minute. he used his feet and hands to gather the loose pine needles in a heap; and when he thought he had things fixed to suit him, the next business that engaged his attention was getting the pile to take fire. after that step hen said he would be "on easy street." all this while the night wind had been moaning and whistling through the tops of the tall pines, making a mournful kind of music, calculated to add to the uneasiness caused by the savage howls of the hungry wolves from the north. but step hen had learned a lesson while lighting his torch, and knew that the wind came in gusts, with short intervals between. by waiting a few seconds after it had started to blow at quite a lively rate, he was able to find a lull; and making the most of his opportunity, he hastily struck his match, and applied it to the dry stuff he had made sure to keep underneath. but after all he came very near spoiling it; for just at that very second there was a loud howl, so close at hand that step hen was impelled to look over his shoulder, under the impression that the wolf pack was even then about to overwhelm him while he bent down, almost defenseless, above the pile of dry stuff. "it's all right; don't worry!" exclaimed thad, who was standing guard, with his faithful marlin gripped tight in his hands; and any wolf that attempted to try conclusions with that reliable little gun would surely regret his temerity. the flame managed to catch before the wind could come back again to blow it out; and once the connection had been made, the draught only served to make the fire burn the better. "there, that's done; and now what?" asked step hen, whirling around to pick up his own weapon, under the belief that he would feel easier in his mind if in a position to defend himself. "we've got to extend the fire belt, and make several more like the one you've got going," replied thad, laying his gun down, so that he might busy himself. "here are plenty of branches, and all sorts of good burning stuff. if only giraffe were with us now, wouldn't he be in his glory, though?" "well," said step hen, slowly; "he might; and again, perhaps giraffe don't like wolves any better than i do. and he gets so rattled too, whenever he's nervous. i try to take things as cool as anything. what's the use getting excited, when it ain't agoin' to help a single bit. and i know you'll say the same, eh, thad?" "you never spoke truer words, step hen," replied the scoutmaster, gravely; and yet secretly he was shaking with laughter, because everybody knew that step hen was the worst offender in that line the patrol boasted; so that it seemed almost as "good as a circus," thad afterwards declared, to hear him talk in this way. they worked diligently, and soon managed to not only extend the fire so as to take in three more points, and thus completely surround the spot where they had dumped the packs of venison; but to secure quite a supply of fuel besides, with which to feed the flames from time to time. "now what?" again demanded step hen, when he saw that his companion meant to call a halt upon these proceedings. "supper is the next thing on the programme," observed thad. "i feel just like enjoying some of that same venison. it will not only make us feel stronger, but considerably lighten our loads when we take a notion to go on again." "count me in on that deal; because, honest injun now, i'm that empty my stomach feels like it wanted to shake hands with my backbone. say, this must be a real hunter's feast, thad. i never went through such an experience as this before. and just listen to the nerve of them rascals, ahowlin' themselves hoarse, just because we object to sharing our grub pile with 'em. d'ye suppose, now, we'll have to knock over a few of the pesky varmints, as old eli calls 'em." "i wouldn't be one bit surprised," replied thad; and the other noticed that he did not move in the least without making sure that his gun was within reach; from which it was evident that thad had no intention of being caught unprepared, should the hungry wolves make a sudden dash. of course step hen was next to totally ignorant as to how to cook meat without the frying-pan to which he had been accustomed. and he watched just how thad did it, closely imitating him. taking a stout and fairly long sliver of wood, a small piece of the meat was secured to one end, after which the other point was thrust into the ground in such a position that the meat came pretty near a place where the embers burned red, and glowed invitingly. presently the heat began to make the meat sizzle, and then it slowly cooked, turning a delightful brown color, and sending out odors that made the boys fairly shiver with eagerness to start eating. when one piece was considered done, it was quickly eaten by a hungry hunter, and its place taken with a fresh supply. so the good work went on. both boys were ravenously hungry, and only small bits could be cooked this way at a time, so that it was pretty much a whole hour before they had fully satisfied their clamorous appetites. and although the meal had been eaten under the strangest conditions of any which he could remember, step hen was ready to declare he had enjoyed it immensely. "but they're gettin' madder and madder all the while, just because we didn't send 'em an invite to our little feast!" declared step hen. "just listen to the critters yawp, would you, thad? they're buttin' in closer and closer, a foot at a time. and honest now, i reckon there must be all the way from half a dozen to ten thousand of 'em around us." "that's a pretty good and safe range," laughed the patrol leader; "and i guess you've covered the ground, all right. there are surely half a dozen of 'em, and how many more i wouldn't like to say, because i don't know just how much noise one old wolf can kick up. but don't they sing sweetly, though? shall we be generous, and throw them out the balance of the venison, to show them how we like their song?" "well, i should say, not any," returned step hen, after giving his companion a quick glance, as if to see whether he really meant it, or was only joking. "we had too much hard work getting our supply to throw it to the dogs. let the lazy curs run along, and find some for themselves. besides, it's too good to think of wasting it. i want the rest of the fellers to taste _our_ venison. mine went glimmering, and i hope it half choked that villainous crowd. anyway you vowed it was a whole lot tougher than this haunch; and there's that comfort." but it was evident that if the hungry animals around heard this decision they refused to pay any attention to it; for instead of decreasing, the howls actually became louder and more insistent, until finally thad picked up his gun. "i begin to see that we're going to have a little target practice after all, step hen," he remarked, quietly. "when things get so bad that you can see the skulking beasts creeping about your camp, and even catch the glitter of their yellow eyes, it's nearly time to begin to bowl a few of them over, so as to inform the rest that we've got a dead line marked around here." "you don't say?" answered step hen, in an awed tone; "show me one, thad, please. i'd just like to say i'd seen a wolf, really and truly, for once in my life, outside of a menagerie or a circus." "all right, then," replied the other; "just follow the line of my finger, and i give you my word that skulking thing in the shadows is a real genuine, canada wolf. i'm going to prove it to you in a minute or two, by taking a crack at him." "oh! now there's two of 'em, thad, crossing each other's trail. and see there, if that ain't a third, and even a fourth. why, i believe the woods are full of 'em!" "you're about right," replied the patrol leader, more seriously than before, the alarmed step hen thought. "here, let's throw a few blazing brands around, to scare 'em off some, while we lift the bundles up among the branches of this tree. then, if anything should force us to take refuge there, at any rate we wouldn't have to listen to the plaguey things chewing at our grub." this was accordingly done. when the burning bits of wood were hurled out toward them, the wolves temporarily retreated; but thad knew full well they would soon crowd back, drawn by the scent of the fresh meat; and besides, he did not like to take the chances of setting the woods afire; just after he, and the balance of the silver fox patrol, had accepted this new test of their abilities in the line of doing a good act as fire wardens. the two packages of venison were easily hoisted into the tree, step hen readily climbing up himself in order to lift them still higher; so that by no possibility could a leaping wolf manage to get his teeth in either bundle. step hen came down again a little unwillingly, thad saw. it must have seemed good and safe up there, so far removed from the fangs of the encircling wolves; but after the fires had burned completely out, it would prove a pretty cold perch; and for one the young scoutmaster did not yearn to try it, unless every other resort failed them. "now watch what happens!" remarked thad, as the other joined him again, gun in hand; "and remember, only shoot if you have to. i'll hold one barrel in reserve all the time. after i shoot you'll see me get a new shell in the chamber as quick as i can work it. be ready, now; and watch sharp!" no need to tell step hen that. he was already keyed up to top-notch condition by the excitement that caused his nerves to quiver, and his breath to come in gasps. and yet, if any one had accused the boy of being afraid, he would have at once indignantly denied the imputation. perhaps he was holding himself sternly in hand; thad hoped as much; but then some persons have a queer way of showing that they are cool and collected. step hen was one, for instance; but if all of us could realize just how we look to our neighbors, we might not feel quite so proud. thad had his gun ready for quick work. he only waited until he could glimpse one of those skulking, shadowy forms on the outside border of the light cast by the fire circle. then he glanced along the barrels of his gun, though instinct enabled him to cover the target better than all this aiming; after which his finger pressed the trigger. the boom of the gun was instantly succeeded by a series of alarming howls; and then step hen was heard shouting exultantly: "you got him then, thad! i saw him turn a back somersault. he's a dead one, all right, i tell you, whoop!" chapter xiv. step hen has visions of a fur coat. thad was already hastily inserting a fresh shell in the left chamber of his little shotgun. he felt fully satisfied that he had done just what step hen so vociferously proclaimed, knocked over one of the skulking wolves; but there were more of the same breed around, and presently they would get over the temporary fright caused by the flash of fire, together with the heavy crash, when possibly they might show themselves bolder than ever. and like a true boy scout, thad brewster believed in always being prepared. he had really taken that for his motto long before he thought of joining a troop of the scouts; so that much of what he agreed to do when signing the muster roll, lay directly in a line with his own ideas of what a wide-awake boy should be. "they backed off after that hot reception, thad," step hen went on. "oh! i hope i'll get a chance to pop over just one of the sneaky beasts. i'd like to say i'd shot a real wolf. think of me, step hen bingham, who up to a year ago had never gone off camping or hunting, with a bear to my credit, a buck actually knocked over, even if it was stole away from me; and now, as the crowning event of all, i want to get a savage wolf, a real canada wolf." "oh!" said thad, laughingly; "i don't know that they're different from any other kind they have out on the plains; though perhaps they may be a little larger, and ready to attack a man quicker. but perhaps you'd better take the next good chance then, step hen." "may i, thad? that's kind of you. suppose you give me pointers, then, and tell me just when to blaze away. i want to make a dead sure thing of it." "of the wolf, you mean, i guess," thad went on, keeping a bright lookout while he talked. "well, watch that place where i got my fellow, and i think you'll soon see something moving." "you must mean the rest will be wanting to make a supper off the critter you killed; is that it, thad? are they such cannibals as all that?" asked step hen. "always said to be," the patrol leader returned, and then quickly added. "keep on the lookout, and if you see anything moving, tell me. above all don't waste ammunition by firing recklessly. we're not trying to scare 'em off by noise; every shot ought to count for a wolf." they lapsed into silence for some little time, during which both boys used their eyes to the best advantage. several times step hen's eagerness caused him to imagine he had caught a glimpse of a moving object; but upon calling the attention of his more experienced comrade to the spot, in every instance thad had pronounced it a false alarm. but in the end there came a time when thad himself saw something move, and as he watched more closely he made positive that it was another wolf creeping up in the direction of the spot where his first victim probably lay. "are you all ready, step hen?" he asked, quietly. "just try me, that's all," came the whispered reply, as the other scout clutched his rifle nervously, and strained his eyes to see what had caught the attention of his chum. "then watch that spot where my game kicked the bucket; one of his mates is right now coming to drag the body away, to give it a wolf burial. see him, step hen?" "yes, yes, and be sure and tell me just when to let him have it, thad," replied the other, beginning to cover the indistinct moving figure with his ready gun. "now, hold on for a bit," thad cautioned. "i'm going to give the fire here a kick that will make it spring up. then, when you can be sure you're getting a bead on the slinker, give him hail columbia. watch out, now, old fellow. it's going to be your only chance to bag a genuine wolf from the canada bush." just as thad had said, the fire burned briskly after he had used the toe of his boot to give it new life; and sure enough, step hen could see the outlines of a long, dim figure that seemed to be hugging the ground. he could even catch the odd gleam of the wicked yellow eyes that were doubtless watching their every movement. with the sharp report of his rifle there was another howl, this time of pain. "did i get him, thad?" cried the marksman, eagerly. "you hit him, that's certain, because i saw him flop over," replied the other; "and that yelp meant sudden pain, as sure as it stood for anything. but he managed to get off, though possibly he will fall within twenty feet." "oh! that's too bad, because his chums'll chew him all up, and i'll never have my nice wolf-skin to get a coat made out of for winter," exclaimed step hen; and then, as he was seized by a new thought, he went on: "but thad, suppose i took a torch and went out there, d'ye think i'd be apt to find him lying on his back? i'd like the worst kind to get hold of him before the rest of the bunch muster up courage enough to come back." "well, since you haven't even a load in your gun, that would be too risky a game for you to play, step hen, and just for an old wolf-skin at that. perhaps we've given 'em such a bad scare now that the rest of the pack may skip out, and leave us in peace. then in the morning you'd find your chap, all right." "listen! there's something crashing through the bushes right back of us, thad!" exclaimed step hen, a minute later, though his companion knew it before he spoke. "sounds like an elephant might be coming down on us; but they don't have such animals up here in the maine woods, do they? just hear the racket he keeps making thad; whatever do you suppose we're up against now?" thad laughed. "that's a two-legged elephant, then, step hen," he remarked. "fact is, we're going to have company, for that's a man pushing through the brush, and making all the noise he can, so as to scare the wolves away, and at the same time keep us from firing on him." then raising his voice, thad called out: "hello, there!" "thet you, thad?" came an answering call. "hurrah! it's old eli!" exclaimed step hen, readily recognizing the voice of the guide. "this way, eli; we're having a healthy old time knocking over some of your canada wolves. each got one so far, but i reckon the rest of the pack must a lit out when they heard you coming. i see you now, eli; and mighty glad you dropped in on us. where did you spring from anyway; don't tell me we're as near the camp as that." eli came up, with a wide grin on his face. "oh! camp about mile and a half down lake," he remarked, as he gravely shook hands with each hunter in turn. "we saw light of fire over point, and think it might be you boys; so i paddled canoe across here. it ain't jest five minits walk 'cross this strip ter the lake. so ye got sum o' the critters, did ye?" "thad, can't we look up that one i shot now; i'd just hate to lose him, you know?" begged step hen. "why, i suppose it would be safe for all of us to go out," returned the patrol leader. "here, pick up something that will burn, and come along." they found thad's victim without any trouble, but the second one was not within range of the light from their torches. but poor anxious step hen begged so piteously to be allowed to extend the search "just a little further," that thad did not have the heart to say no. and a minute later, after they had gone forward twice as far as thad had at first intended, step hen gave a gurgling cry. "looky there, thad, what's that thing lying over yonder? seems to me mighty like a dead one. yes, sir, that's what it is, as sure as i'm step hen bingham. oh! how terrible he looks, even when stretched out there, and gone up the flue. _my_ wolf, too. what a fine coat he's got, and as gray as they make 'em. say, won't i just cut a swell when i wear that out in a sleigh with sue baker; and every time she rubs the sleeve she'll say: 'and just to think that _you_ shot this savage old wolf all by yourself, step hen; oh! what a brave fellow you are!'" it was a second dead wolf, sure enough. the little repeating rifle had, as usual, given a good account of itself, and the stricken beast had only been able to drag himself a little distance away, before giving up. both animals were dragged over to the fires, and then eli set to work taking off the skins with a rapidity that told of long experience along the trapping line. "no use aluggin' these critters over ter the canoe, and then ter camp," eli had announced. "ther two skins'll make a purty good coat, i guess naow. an' so ye gut a pack o' prime venison to tote home as well, hev ye? thet's good. my mouth's jes' made up fur a steak; an' the boys'll feel tickled ter death when they sees yer." step hen was a little nervous at leaving the fire zone, especially since eli and thad insisted on putting out every spark before departing, according to the law of the state; but then he managed to carry one torch, and with that to serve them, they took up their line of march. it was not so very far to the edge of the lake. thad laughed, and said the joke was on him; because, when they halted he really believed they were a couple of miles away from water. if he had known the shore was so near by he would have managed to coax the tired step hen to trudge on just a little further, so as to camp with the water covering one side, and bringing that much security; not to speak of the chances for signaling to the home camp by means of the code which he and allan, as boy scouts, understood. but it was all right now, and step hen felt quite merry over the chance of being taken comfortably to the camp by means of the canoe. eli did the paddling, and the two weary lads just snuggled down in the boat, feeling that they had had a great day of it, all told. the presence of the venison, as well as the wolf-skins, would be positive proof as to the reliability of their astonishing story; should there be any skeptic around. and then thad had the wonderful mushroomed bullet that had killed that six-pronged buck; so that as they narrated the first adventure that had come their way, they could produce evidence to back up the story. their coming was greeted by more or less enthusiasm, although the boys had evidently been coached by allan not to be too vociferous, as they were in a country where timid game abounded, and it was poor policy to frighten away the quarry they had come so far to secure. step hen forgot all his weariness as he found himself being shaken by the hand again and again, while he and thad told the tale of their day's outing. it was nice to play the hero part once in a while, and more than ever did step hen feel that life had become more worth living than ever, since he joined the cranford troop of boy scouts. but for that he would never have discovered what splendid things there were to be met with in the great forests; and the spirit of the hunter and the fisherman, which had lain dormant in his nature, might never have been awakened. and while the hour was rather late, all of the boys insisted on tasting a small piece of the deer meat brought in by the two successful nimrods. chapter xv. the fox farmer. "say, this is the greatest venison i ever tasted!" declared bumpus, after he had disposed of his share, and sighed to think that the rules of the game debarred him from having a second piece; because they had had a bumper supper only a few hours before. "just dandy!" added giraffe, who was in the same class as his fat campmate, and would have been only too glad for an invitation to "cut, and come again." "oh!" exclaimed step hen, suddenly, "i reckon we've got to congratulate you, giraffe." "me? er, what d'ye mean, step hen?" replied the tall scout, at the same time beginning to look a trifle confused. "why, you know you told us we'd be _surprised_ when we got back," the other went on to say, a little maliciously; "and i reckon you've gone and done it at last; and now you're ready to show us just how easy it works." bumpus could not refrain for the life of him from giving a sarcastic chuckle, which of course added to the evident embarrassment of giraffe; who, however assumed a serious air upon making his reply. "well,--er--not exactly, step hen. i've got her figgered out all right, in my mind, so that in the morning i c'n go ahead, and work out the details. i calculate a short half hour ought to see me wind up in just a blaze of glory. but just yet it's a toss-up who the ice-cream's going to be on, bumpus or me." "oh! i ain't worrying even a little mite," asserted the confident bumpus. "well, you wait and see!" declared giraffe, defiantly. "you don't all know what i've got up my sleeve. the feller that laughs last laughs loudest, they say. and i give you all fair warning that's going to be me." meanwhile thad managed to get in close touch with jim hasty. when the others were joking, and having a merry time, he was wondering how the guide's little affair had been working out. many hours had passed since he had seen jim, and he wondered whether the latter could have had any further communication from old cale, or even run across the father of his wife in the pine woods. jim was looking a little more serious than ever; but so far as thad could discover there was nothing about him to indicate that he had been in violent collision with an enemy. and there were both his ears in their proper places; which fact might be taken as positive proof that the giant poacher had at least so far not attempted to carry out his terrible threat. jim seemed to know what was passing through the boy's mind; for he smiled faintly, and shook his head in the negative. "nothing new happened, then, jim?" questioned the patrol leader. "naw. i hain't been far from camp the hull blessed day; an' consequently never had no chanct tew run up against pa martin," replied the other. "but i'm more sot than ever tew see him face tew face, afore i quits this here region. it's jest _gut_ tew be done, else i wudn't hev ther nerve tew face little lina agin. she made me promise; an' by thunder! nawthin' hain't agoin' tew skeer me off. if he doan't hunt me out, by ding! i'll take a turn at hit, an' find cale martin myself, ef so be i gotter tramp all the way tew his shack, wich i knows on'y tew well." "good for you, jim!" said thad, admiringly; "but i suppose you understand what risk you're taking in trying that game? from all i've heard about cale martin, he's surely a terror; and then the threat he made about your ears would be enough to scare most men away." jim drew a long breath as he answered this. "lot's o' people doan't know ole cale like i does. he hain't so black nor they jes' paints him. them game wardens is afeerd o' him, and they piles all kinds o' things on his shoulders thet he hain't no business to kerry." "yes, i've heard before about giving a dog a bad name, and then he has to bear the sins of the whole neighborhood," remarked thad. "there is never a sheep killed but that dog tray is the guilty one. and so you think cale isn't altogether so bad as we've heard?" "he's a big man, and he's gut an' _orful_ temper; but it's them tew critters he goes with thet's the wust cases. they jest draw him inter slick games, cale, he'd never think o' tryin', left by hisself. but we heerd as haow he's struck a new thing, if so be he on'y knows enuff ter keep it agoin', an' shakes them other fellers. an' if anybody kin make a success o' fox raisin', i jest guess cale is ther man, 'cause he knows all erbout the slick little varmints from a ter z." "fox raising?" exclaimed thad, at once deeply interested. "tell me about that, jim. seems like it ought to be worth while listening to." "why," said jim, apparently only too well pleased to say something in favor of the big and reckless parent of his little wife; "yer see, thar's a company as hes been formed away daown in bosting, tew raise foxes o' all kinds, jest tew git the pelts. i s'pose yew knows as haow them skins air agittin' more valerable every blessed year. more people tew wear furs, an' less animals tew give 'em. why, thar was twelve hundred dollars paid fur a black fox pelt jest last spring; an' i seen the check with my own eyes." "yes," thad went on, deeply interested. "i've understood that tremendous prices were being paid out for that scarce skin; but is cale meaning to try and raise black or silver foxes for the market? i was told by several people that they considered the silver fox only a freak, and that they would never breed true to species. how about that, jim?" "i've allers hed an ijee thet way myself," returned the short guide, scratching his head in a reflective manner; "but cale, he thinks the other way; an' cale, he sure knows more about foxes in a day than i wud in a year. wall, we done heard as haow he hed made a contrack with this company fur a number o' years, tew act as manager o' ther farm. it's in another part o' ther state; an' when cale, he leaves here arter a leetle while, he never 'spects tew come back again. wouldn't be surprised naow if he hed a few foxes over tew ther old shack as he means tew kerry away with him when he quits up here." "but do you suppose he'll stick to those two tough characters, and keep them with him in his new job? won' they queer his game with the company, jim?" "wall, i doan't know, of course, what his plans be, but cale, he's a great feller tew keep his word; an' if so be he's told this company as he'll run things straight jest believe me they ain't agoin' tew be no place for them two poachers around _his_ fox farm. he'd run 'em off with his gun mighty quick. yes, cale keeps his word; an' thet's what makes me a leetle bit shy 'bout bein' able tew convince him tew leave my ears whar they belongs. but lina, bless her, sez as haow he jest cain't hold aout, when he hears what i gotter tell him; an' lina, she orter know." thad admired the man more than ever. just because of his faith in lina, here was jim ready to put his head in the lion's mouth, so to speak. thad suspected that he might be carrying some very important intelligence to the bearded giant of the pine woods; but whatever it was, jim did not take the trouble to enlighten him; and thad did not really think he had any business to ask. after that jim seemed to lapse into silence, and seeing that he did not appear anxious to continue the talk along lines that concerned his personal matters, the scoutmaster turned to the others again. the hour was now getting rather late, and while those who had remained in camp during much of the day might not be unusually tired, step hen gave signs of falling asleep by the fire. several times his head gave a lurch to one side, so that presently giraffe caught him roughly by the arm. "see here, d'ye want to take a header square into the blaze, step hen?" he demanded, as the other opened his eyes, and looked sleepily at him. "i like fires as well as anybody, but excuse me from getting roasted in one. don't you think he ought to be sent to bed, mr. scoutmaster? he's so logy right now, that the chances are ten to one he'll climb in, and wrap the blanket around his head instead of his feet. seems like you'll have to appoint a dry-nurse to look after the poor baby, or else he may freeze to death in the night." but step hen did not wait for any permission to retire. he just crept away, and vanished under the folds of the second tent, which he shared with thad and davy jones. indeed, the others were that sleepy they declared they would not be long in following his example. thad himself was the first to get up and stretch. "it's late, fellows, and we ought to be turning in, if we want to be good for anything to-morrow. and remember, that if this sort of thing keeps up, we're going to change the programme, and let every scout have a share in keeping sentry duty, working in couples. it doesn't seem exactly fair that when eli and jim have to work all day with the paddles, or in any other way, they ought to spend half the night standing guard. hello! there's eli right now, coming in on the trot, as if he had some news for us. what's up, eli?" the old guide had been down to the shore of the lake to take a look at the canoes; and he was plainly bringing some sort of news, if they could judge from his hasty steps; and the look of concern on his dark face. "canoe comin' along daown yonder; mout be cale's agoin' ter pay us a visit," he remarked; and his words aroused the sleepy boys as thoroughly as though they had been ducked with a bucket of ice-water. they all hastened to step off toward the shore. bumpus even picked up his gun, possibly under the belief that there might be a speck of war on the horizon. jim looked a trifle uneasy, but there was a grimness in the way he shut his jaws together that told of his set purpose to face the music somehow or other, before leaving this country of the eagle lakes. "there it comes!" announced giraffe, in a half whisper, as he pointed to the left. they could soon all make out the dim, shadowy canoe that was stealing along, some little distance from the shore, and evidently bent on passing the camp. "i kin jest make out two fellers in her," said eli, who had sharp eyes. "i reckon one of them must be old cale, then; he seems to be shadin' his eyes with his hand, alookin' toward our fire, and us astandin' here," giraffe went on to say, though no one could be really positive, because the light was so poor. the canoe passed by in this spectral fashion. there was no hail from those who sat in the boat, one using the paddle with the usual dexterity of a maine guide; and of course none of the scouts thought of calling out, knowing who and what the voyagers were. "i suppose that was old cale in the bow?" remarked thad, after the canoe had faded away. "an' he was alookin' fur me, i kinder guess," said jim, mournfully; at the same time, as if mechanically raising a hand to feel of his ears. chapter xvi. a startling awakening. it was about four o'clock on the following afternoon when the three canoes containing the boys of the silver fox patrol, accompanied by their two guides, drew up once more on the lake shore, and preparations for going into camp were hastily commenced, since night would soon be upon them. jim had selected this site for their last camp on this lake. when they left it, they intended going through the rest of the chain, and then seeking the railroad, with the idea of starting homeward again. and thad wondered whether, in picking out this camp, jim might not have had an eye to his own affairs. perhaps it was not many miles away from the shack of cale martin, the man who had been logger, trapper, guide, and was now about to turn his superior knowledge concerning foxes into a profitable channel, and raise them for their valuable furs. thad hoped that for the sake of jim's peace of mind he might carry out his plan before they broke camp here. and secretly he was determined that, should the guide decide to take a chance at finding old cale at home, he would not be averse to accompanying jim across country to the place where little lina used to live, before she ran away with jim. despite his positive conviction that he was really on the eve of succeeding with his fire-making, by the aid of his little bow, and the twirling stick, giraffe had failed to accomplish what he expected that morning. why, he hardly ate any breakfast, so engrossed had he been in his "fiddling" as bumpus contemptuously called it, whenever he saw the tall scout working that clumsy little bow. but as usual, some little thing went wrong that spoiled the whole combination; and of course fire did not reward the hard labor giraffe put in. he looked so bitterly disappointed that even bumpus did not have the heart to taunt him; though as a rule the fat boy could be depended on to do his share of such. but then, it had been arranged that giraffe and bumpus were to go out on a hunt on the following day, all by themselves, and without even a guide along. giraffe had boasted so often now, that he felt himself fully competent to look after himself when adrift in the woods, that thad thought it might be a good thing to give him the chance. and there was bumpus, eager to make use of his new gun; nothing would please him better than to accompany the tall scout. of course neither thad, nor any one else for that matter, ever suspected that they would bag any game, unless it might be a few half-tame partridges, that would sit on a limb, and wait to be knocked over. indeed, thad was of the opinion that in the end the two bold nimrods might even get lost, and have to be searched for. but then, they would unquestionably leave a plain trail that the guides could pick up without great trouble; and the experience would be worth much to both giraffe and bumpus. they were really getting too "scrappy" in their dealings with each other; and a little spice, such as must accompany losing themselves in the woods, and being dependent on each other entirely, might draw them together, thad thought, and make them appreciate each other more. as they sat around the blaze that night, after they had partaken of a generous supper, thad purposely led the conversation to the subject of fires in the woods. allan had told of some experiences he met with some years back, and of course both guides were able to supplement this with stirring yarns that thrilled the blood of the young listeners. "and i reckon, now, eli?" thad went on, after the guide had finished what he had to tell; "that you never saw the pine woods in better condition for a fire than they are right now?" "thet air a fact," replied the other, emphatically. "dry as tinder, an' ef we doan't git sum snow mighty soon, i guess as haow ther'll be thousands o' acres o' vallerable land burned over afore thanksgivin' time." "yeou must a seen sum lands thet hed be'n burned, on ther way up on ther train," interjected jim, breaking his long silence; "an' yeou kin understan' jest how lonesum they 'pears like, with ther tall pines astandin' thar like flagpoles, black, and withaout ary limb; er else alayin' in windrows on ther ground. allers makes me feel bad tew see sech things." "and the game deserts a burned tract, too," declared allan. "it sure dew," jim went on, with a shake of the head. "yew never seen a more desolate region than sech a burned territory. everybody moves aout quick as they can; fact is, most on 'em hes gut ther houses burned, an' doan't hev ter kerry much away with 'em. i hopes as haow it'll snow er rain right soon, so's tew save miles an' miles o' woodland." "and the fire wardens have their work cut out for them at this season of the year, you can easily believe," observed allan. "wonder now if we'll see a real genuine forest fire while we're up here," remarked giraffe, with considerable interest. "my! but she must look great to see them pines aflamin' up like big torches. now, you needn't give me that look, thad, because i haven't forgot my promise, an' i ain't acarryin' a single match along with me day after day. but if _somebody else_ sets fire to the woods, i have as good a right to look as the next one, ain't i?" "of course you have, giraffe," replied the scoutmaster, relieved, because this overpowering passion on the part of the tall boy had given him many anxious minutes since coming into maine. "lots of these fires come after the loggers have done their work," allan volunteered. "you see, they leave a tremendous amount of stuff behind; all the limbs and branches of the trees they have cut down, as they are only after the main stem; so when this gets nice and dry, after a year or so, and a fire starts, with a brisk wind to whip it, what follows is more than i can describe. i saw one such fire, and we only escaped with our lives by the quick wit of a logger along with the party." "what did you do, allan?" asked bumpus, eagerly. "you know, i'm goin' out with giraffe to-morrow, and if we did meet up with a forest on fire, i couldn't run like he can, with his long legs; so i'd like to know another way to give the old fire the go-by. please explain how you cheated it. why, allan, it might save my life too, for all you know." "glad to hear that you're interested, bumpus," answered the other readily. "and i think every one of you ought to know about it. when you're out hunting, try and keep the location of any stream you happen to pass, in your mind. then in case of being beset by fire, make your way there, and get in, up to your neck. you're going to be safe there, every time. if it gets hot, duck under, and cool off. i'll sure never forget the time i had; but then i hope none of you will ever have to hunt for a stream, or that you'll even see a forest fire when up here, no matter how much giraffe wants to look on one." giraffe had dropped out of the circle, and apparently some idea had just flashed into his mind connected with his pursuit of that slippery contract, whereby he expected sooner or later to make fire come, after the fashion of the far away islanders of the pacific. no one paid much attention, for they were heartily sick of seeing him sawing away with his little bow, wasting so much time, most of them thought; though thad for his part was secretly pleased to see that the tall scout stuck at his apparently hopeless job; with a persistence that must win out in the end. thad had been explaining just what the new system of standing sentry was to be. each of the scouts would have his turn, even bumpus being called on, though his partner was to be old eli. there being eight of them, their fixed posts would not run much over an hour and a half each; and it was to be expected that the boys might receive more or less benefit from having to assume some of the responsibility of the camp's security. bumpus had been yawning for some time; and presently, taking advantage of a lull in the conversation the fat boy clumsily gained his feet, and made a lunge for the nearest tent, in which he was supposed to sleep. no one was really surprised to see bumpus trip, and go floundering to the earth, for he frequently got his legs twisted, and did that; but when there was a shout of consternation, and the tall form of giraffe bounded erect they realized that bumpus had actually fallen over his chum, not noticing him, because his eyes were so heavy with sleep. "oh! giraffe, excuse me, please!" he remarked, as he rolled over, and sat up. "i give you my word i didn't know you were there. i was rubbing my eyes, because they felt so hot and tired, lookin' into the fire so long. hope i didn't hurt you any?" "hurt me," grumbled giraffe; "i wouldn't care for that so much, even if you'd broken a rib or two in my side; but to think that you'd upset me just when i was agoin' to make it burst out into a nice little flame! why, she was smokin' to beat the band when you knocked it all into a cocked hat by bustin' my bow; an' now i'll have to sit up another hour makin' a new one. it's always the way. i'm havin' the toughest luck ever was, about that business; but i can hang on, like a bulldog to the seat of your trousers when you're gettin' over the fence. i'm game, all right. i'm agoin' to get that, if it takes a leg." but his bow, he found, could be easily repaired, as it was only the cord that had been broken. and half an hour later everybody in camp was sound asleep, saving thad and allan, who had taken the first watch, so as to sit there, and talk in whispers; for the patrol leader wanted to tell his chum all about jim's case, because he felt so great an admiration for the short guide. when their turn had expired, according to the little nickel watch thad carried, they woke up eli, who, with bumpus was to take the next spell; in turn they were expected to arouse step hen and davy jones, to be followed by jim and giraffe; and this would finish the night, as daylight must arrive while the last named were on duty. thad was a good sleeper, although as a rule the slightest thing of an unusual nature aroused him. he believed that the camp would be well watched, and when he lay down did not allow himself to get to thinking of anything to the contrary, for fear that if his brain once got to working, he might lie awake for a long time. he had a dim recollection of the two boys who occupied the tent with him, step hen and davy, creeping out, when eli summoned them. then came an uncertain length of time, which thad could never measure; for he was sound asleep when it seemed to him some one was shouting something in his dreams. he sat up, and bumped his head on some object that had fallen out of place; but he was now fully awake, and felt a thrill when he heard real shouts outside, in the voices of step hen and davy jones: "hey, everybody get busy here! the whole camp's on fire, and the wind driving it into the woods like hot-cakes! hurry up! hurry up, everybody!" chapter xvii. fighting the flames. out of the tent crawled thad, utterly regardless of the fact that he was not altogether warmly clad for a cold night. and what met his eyes when he reached the open was enough to excite him still further. the wind was blowing pretty stiffly, and the fire had already jumped into the brush surrounding the camp. if given its head for even a short time it seemed bound to get started in the dead pine needles; and once it spread there, all the desperate efforts of a dozen fire-fighters would be wasted. several figures could be seen, bounding here and there, and slashing at the red flames with anything they could get hold of that would answer to bring about a halt in their spread. of course these must be the late guardians of the sleeping camp, who were now shouting so strenuously, and begging the rest of the campers to come to their aid--step hen and davy jones; besides, there were the guides, hard at work, having been aroused with the first cries; for they still persisted in sleeping under a rude shelter they had made out of branches and weeds. thad rushed into the fray, and began to do his very utmost to keep the dreaded fire in check. he saw that the others were also crawling forth, bumpus, giraffe and allan, all occupants of the first tent. and realizing the importance of concerted action, they lost not a second in getting busy. bumpus, in particular, was a sight to behold, and had he been less busy thad felt that he must have doubled up with laughter to see him. he persisted in donning a most stunning red-checked suit of pajamas; for being so stout he did not suffer from the cold as much as some of the others. and as his simple heart was wrapped up in the business that just then engaged his full attention, bumpus was prancing around, looking more like a clown from the circus than anything thad could think of. but all the same the fat boy fought, tooth and nail, at the spreading fire. he had on his shoes, as had the others, so that he could jump on the creeping flames when all else failed; and using an extra piece of canvas that sometimes had done duty as a tent floor, bumpus sailed into the fray like a hurricane. indeed, they were all as busy as beavers for a short time. every scout seemed to feel that it would be a lasting disgrace on the name of the silver fox patrol if that fire got away into the woods. they had assumed the responsibilities of assistant fire wardens; and it would be a sorry joke indeed if, instead of putting out a conflagration they themselves were the cause of one that swept the whole adjacent territory. "give it thunder!" shouted giraffe, as he threshed wildly at every head of fire he could see near his boundary of action. "hit him again, boys!" shrilled bumpus, as he continued to do his great act of working with both hands and feet at the same time, all serving to quench the threatening flames. but step hen and davy were strangely silent, though they worked as hard as any one. they knew that they were to blame for all the trouble; for they had slept on their post, and with this sad result. finally success came to the hard working scouts, and their allies, the two guides. the fire was completely routed, bag and baggage, before it managed to get a good foothold in the dry woods. and perspiring as though it were the good old summer time, the boys hastened to get more clothes on them, for fear of catching cold. the fire was resurrected, and they sat down to have a powwow. "oh! you needn't all look at us that way," grunted step hen. "we're guilty, all right. knock us all you want to, because i just guess now we deserve it. but we never meant to go to sleep there by the fire, did we, davy?" "well, i should say not," replied the other culprit, looking quite dejected. "we kept atellin' each other that we mustn't sleep right along; and then to think that after all we did drop off, and both together." "first thing i remember," said step hen, as if resolved, after pleading guilty, to open up, and throw himself on the mercy of the court; "i heard a queer crackling noise, and openin' my eyes, my stars! the whole world seemed like it was afire. i gave davy a punch in the side, and then jumped for it. we thought at first we could get her under control; then i saw it was no go, for the old fire kept extendin' all the while. so i started to wake you all, and davy, he joined in. after that eli and jim joined us, and then the rest of you came. and believe me, fellers, davy and me'll never forget it. you did handsome by us, and we've been saved from disgrace that would have sent us into an early grave, hey, davy?" "just so," grunted the other, who was licking several burns he had received on his bare hands during the fierce little engagement just ended, though he made no complaint, seeming to think he had gotten off pretty easily, considering the serious offense of which he had been guilty, that of sleeping on his post, and which might have cost him his life in war times, had he been a soldier. thad noticed this fact, and quietly getting out some salve he carried for just such occasions forced davy to let him attend to his hurts, though the other insisted that they "did not amount to much, anyway." "how do you think it started?" giraffe asked, and in so doing he really voiced the thoughts of everybody. "huh! i reckon that's an easy one to answer," replied step hen, promptly. "anybody c'n see at just a single look that the wind must have picked up a live coal from the fire, and carried it into a bunch of stuff to leeward. after that it was fanned, till it spread wider and wider. that was going on while davy and me snoozed away like a pair of sillies. no use talking, boys, i'm ashamed of myself; and let me tell you, it'll be a long time before i ever go to sleep on duty again--not if i have to keep jabbing a pin into my leg every minute or so, to make me jump." "does that explanation go, thad?" asked bumpus, still breathing hard after his recent violent exertions. "well, it looks that way, for the fire was actually to leeward of the camp when i first saw it," answered the patrol leader; but there must have been something in his manner rather than his speech that caught the attention of giraffe. "but you ain't _quite_ satisfied, are you, thad?" he remarked, pointedly. "you just keep athinkin' that perhaps it _wasn't_ an accident after all? am i right, now?" "wow! what does that kind of talk stand for?" burst out bumpus. "are you hinting that it was all a part of a dark scheme to burn us out of camp?" "wait till eli and jim come back," thad went on. "you've noticed that they're not with us right now. fact is, they took the lantern, and went off about the time we were finishing our dressing. but before they went, jim gave me to understand what they had some reason to suspect." "the work of big cale martin and his crowd? is that what you're aiming to tell us, thad?" demanded giraffe. "here they come!" was all thad said. "oh! my, i thought you meant the game poachers!" exclaimed bumpus, who had made a half movement in the direction of his gun, standing conveniently near. the two guides joined the circle around the fire. eli held his hands out to the blaze, as though they felt cold in that nipping night air. jim simply caught the inquiring eye of the scoutmaster, and immediately nodded his head in the affirmative. and thad knew from that they had surely made some sort of important discovery. "what is it, jim?" he asked. "they've been around here; we found ther tracks lots o' places," came the reply. "do you mean cale and si and ed?" asked the other. "on'y si and ed," answered jim. "cale he wa'n't thar 'tall. we'd sized up his big tracks ef he'd be'n. they was two men in thet canoe larst night, ye seen; wall them must a be'n ther lot as fired the brush. i guess as haow cale, he muster gone back tew his shack by naow." "but what on earth could they expect to get by burning us out?" demanded bumpus. "fust place they never oxpected tew burn ther camp," observed jim; "ef they hed, doan't yew believe they'd agone tew windward tew start thet blaze? wall, they hed a game wuth tew o' thet up ther sleeve." "tell us what it was, jim," urged thad, though he himself had already jumped to a conclusion in the matter. "i guess as haow they thort we'd hev tew make off a long distance away frum the camp tew fight the fire; an' then they'd hev plenty o' time tew clean her aout; but yeou see, we didn't get fur away 'tall, so they hed all ther work fur nawthin'. but them tracks was as plain as anything, wa'n't they, eli?" jim went on. "they be," was the conclusive testimony of the older guide; and every one of the scouts understood that eli had set the seal of his approval on all that jim had said. it was certainly very unpleasant to realize that they were objects of desire on the part of even a pair of unscrupulous scamps, granting that big cale martin had retired from the combination. the boys seemed to get more indignant the longer they discussed the situation. there was bumpus, usually so mild and peaceful, fairly palpitating with a desire to draw a bead upon those two unprincipled rascals. "we don't stand for much nonsense from outsiders, do we fellers?" he appealed to the other five. "once before on this trip some bad men thought to get fresh with the silver fox patrol. you all know what happened to charley barnes, the leader of that bunch of yeggs that broke into the bank. didn't we make the capture though, and astonish sheriff green? and ain't we going to get ever so much money for recovering the stolen stuff? well, that's what's going to happen to those husky chaps if they get too gay with us. they'd better go slow. if they can read, they'll see we're marked 'dangerous, handle with care!'" "yes," said giraffe, "we'll just have to get busy, and hand these sillies over to the head game warden. they're trying to interfere with our having the time of our lives up here in maine; and we don't stand for anything like that." none of them felt like getting back to their blankets in a hurry, after all that scare; so they just sat there around the fire, some of them with the blankets thrown over their shoulders, and compared notes all along the line; for what the guides had just told concerning the scheme of the unprincipled poachers filled the scouts with both indignation and anger. and more than one of them resolved that when his time came to watch, he would make sure to keep a loaded gun close to his hand, to be used to give the prowlers the fright of their lives. chapter xviii. when even a compass failed them. "what would you do, bumpus," said step hen, after a while, "if you couldn't find a creek to wade in, with the fire all around you?" "well, d'ye know, i was just athinkin' about that same thing," replied the fat scout, who had thrown a blanket around him, and not bothered dressing; and as he sat there on a log he looked somewhat like a lazy indian. "i hope you came to some conclusion," observed giraffe; "because, if we happen to run across a conflagration to-morrow, when we're out hunting, it'll be some comfort to me to know, when i'm spinning along, that you're snug and safe behind, and not being devoured by the flames." "well, the only thing i could think of," bumpus went on, soberly; "seeing that a feller can't sprout wings right away when he needs the same; nor hatch up an aeroplane to carry him out of the danger zone--the only thing for me to do would be to hunt around for a woodchuck's hole, and push in, feet first." there was a laugh at that remark, which seemed to surprise bumpus, for he looked with elevated eyebrows at each of the others in turn. "you seem to think i'm joking," he remarked, as if offended by the levity. "well," continued giraffe, "in the first place you'd possibly find a heap of trouble discovering a woodchuck's hole in these maine woods, especially when you were in a big hurry; and then again, fancy the kind of woodchuck that had a hole of a size to accommodate _you_, bumpus hawtree!" the fat boy sighed. "that's what i get all along the line," he declared. "there ain't no place in all this world for a feller that's nearly as round as he is tall. i tell you i'm goin' to find _some_ way of getting rid of all this superabundance of flesh, if i have to walk it off by taking tremendous tramps. some people tell me it c'n be done by going hungry a week or two at a time; but what's the use of living if you can't eat, that's what? so i'm in a peck of trouble. won't somebody tell me what to do?" of course, with such an open invitation, they hastened to accomodate him; and if poor bumpus tried even a part of the numerous joking plans offered for his consideration, he would soon have no need for either food or energy, since they would, as he declared, be "putting his wooden overcoat on him." finally, however, the boys began to slip back once more into the tents, all but giraffe, who was to finish the night with jim; although there was hardly another hour now before daylight. "just suits me, boys!" declared the tall scout, as he prepared to sit out his turn as sentry; "you see, i can be thinking over that knotty problem i've just _got_ to figure out before we leave this part of the country. and i've an idea that i'm getting mighty warm on that proposition now. would sure had it dead to rights, only for clumsy bumpus tumbling over me." but no one paid much attention to what giraffe was saying; they had by now grown so accustomed to hearing him always promising great things by "to-morrow" that it "went in one ear, and came out of the other," davy jones said. when the morning came, the camp became a scene of activity. while some of the party were busily engaged cooking a good breakfast--and it needed a lot to satisfy the healthy appetites of six growing boys, not to mention two husky guides,--others were examining the tracks that had been found after the fire. and it was the universal opinion that two prowlers had indeed started the fire with the idea that the inmates of the camp, rushing out to fight its spread, might get so far away that it would leave the way open for the thieves to make a sweep of any valuables left unguarded in that exciting hour. bumpus and giraffe were making all their preparations looking to their "sallying forth," as the latter termed it, "like don quixote and sancho panza of old, determined to do wonderful things." thad saw that they felt as if they knew it all; and he realized that in such a case advice was not desired, so he said nothing about what they ought to take. if they forgot anything, they must do without, and next time think again. presently the two waved their hands merrily to their chums, and started forth. bumpus looked like a well-laden, led animal as he trotted along at the heels of the tall scout, who was to do the piloting of the expedition. "don't keep supper for us if we're late," airily called back bumpus. "we may get further away than we can manage in one day, and have to camp alone, like thad and step hen did. and if some of them old wolves pay us a visit, they'll wish they hadn't. giraffe is toting his old heavy weight rifle; and here i am with my new double-barreled gun, and fifty shells. ketch me gettin' caught like step hen did, with a few charges for my trusty weapon. good-bye, fellers! see you later!" "good-bye, and good luck!" called out davy jones, waving his cap three times to represent his idea as to the right kind of a send-off. the hunters got along very well for several miles, though giraffe was forever forging protests from bumpus. "what d'ye take me for, giraffe?" he would exclaim, as he caught up with the waiting leader, and wiped the perspiration from his brow, despite the fact that the day was pretty cold. "you know i ain't built on the same lines as you; and in a case of this kind, the one that c'n go faster just has to accommodate himself to the pace of the slow one. you're the hare, and i'm like the poor old tortoise; but please remember that the turtle came in winner after all in the race. not always to the swift, you know, does the race go. i may beat you out in the long run, with the endurance test. if i've got anything at all, it's grit." "yes, you will," sneered giraffe; but after the third stop he did moderate his speed considerably; perhaps he was beginning to get a little tired himself, and did not feel unwilling to draw in a peg or two. at noon they ate a cold lunch, for they had come upon certain tracks that told giraffe there had been an animal of some kind there--he wished he knew how to tell what species it belonged to, and just how long ago the tracks had been made. "and mark me, bumpus," he said impressively, "i'm going to learn all those kind of things right away, as soon as i can take my mind off this pesky fire puzzle. i c'n see how handy it is to be able to read signs when you're off huntin'. why, when we start to follerin' these here tracks, after we've eaten our grub, how on earth do we know whether they were made a week ago; or if some cow broke loose from a backwoods home up here, and wandered this way. a nice pair of chumps we'd be, wouldn't we, if we went and shot up a pet cow, and had to pay damages? i reckon the boys'd never got over the joke." "that's just what i was thinking myself, giraffe," agreed the other, as he sat down beside the tall scout on a fallen tree, and took out the lunch from his haversack, for he had carried it all morning, and giraffe had let him, too; "if we're going in for this scouting business, we ought to swallow the whole business. now, as for learning things connected with the woods, where could you find any fellers better qualified to put us straight than we've got in thad and allan? what one don't know, the other sure does. i'm bound to learn the game. owning this dandy gun has given me a new idea. i used to say 'oh! what's the use of bothering, when you've got somebody else to do your thinking for you?' but now i begin to see that you can't always depend on others. right here is a case in point." as their minds ran about in the same channel the two boys managed to get along splendidly. their little differences of the past were, for the time being at least, quite forgotten; and they seemed drawn toward each other as two comrades should be. but both began to complain because thus far neither of them had had occasion to make use of their gun. if this was a game country, why was it two such industrious hunters did not get a crack at something, whether a deer, a moose, or even a fox--anything would have been welcome as a change from the monotony. perhaps giraffe would have been surprised if told that he and the puffing bumpus made quite too much noise to prevent any wary and timid deer from staying within a quarter of a mile of them. and also that often they were doing their hunting "down the wind," so that their scent at such times was carried to the nostrils of the suspicious game long before the hunters came in sight. finally they came across some partridges, and bumpus managed to bag a couple with two shots from his new gun. he was greatly elated by the success attending his efforts, even though giraffe did mention something about the birds insisting on remaining on the branch of that tree so long that they must either have been frozen there, or else wanted to commit suicide. "well, they came to the right place, then," said bumpus, sturdily, as he crammed new shells in his gun; "i'm the feller to help every partridge and deer pass over the divide, that feels like going. bring on your game; now we're going some!" but as the afternoon began to wane they had a shot at nothing else, though once giraffe became excited, and declared he had caught a glimpse of a deer making off in the distance. "now, ain't it a shame," he went on to say, "how that deer just knew we were coming? seems like somebody went ahead with a trumpet, and announced that two hunters were on the trail. after that they all hike out. but seems to me it's getting some cold right now, bumpus. my fingers begin to tingle." "told you to wear the old mitts step hen offered you, but you sneered at the idea. i'm feeling pretty cold myself, considerin' that i'm on the move all the time. say, where are we anyhow, and how far from the camp?" giraffe looked blankly at bumpus. "here's the compass, and we c'n see which way is north, all right. then east is off that way on the right, south around yonder, and west here. but where in the dickens is that camp, south, north or east? honest, bumpus, i don't know!" "no more do i, giraffe," replied the other. "and d'ye know, this makes me think of that injun that got lost, and was found, half starved, by some white men; but he was too proud to admit his little shortcoming; so when they asked him if he hadn't kinder managed to get twisted in his bearings, he slaps his breast with his hand, take a pose like this, and says he: 'injun not lost; wigwam lost; injun _here_!' and we're like that injun, giraffe; oh! no, we're not lost one little bit, because we know we're here. but i just can't amble on any longer. suppose we stop and camp. these partridges will taste prime. yum! yum, can't get at 'em too soon to please me. get busy, and light a fire, giraffe; that's your part of the contract always." "i sure will, if you give me a few matches, bumpus," replied the other, wearily dropping his heavy rifle, that began to feel like a ton of lead. "matches! why, you're the fire-maker; and i thought you'd take care of that part of the business!" exclaimed bumpus, looking a little alarmed. "why, what a silly you can be, bumpus; don't you know i promised thad never to carry a single match around with me? and now, look what a fix we're in, lost in the maine woods, with night coming on, and gettin' colder every minute; and not a single match to start a fire with. i see our finish all right. when they find us some days from now, we'll be just frozen stiff, that's what!" the two tenderfeet looked at each other, but there was no smile on either face now; for affairs had assumed too serious a phase to admit of merriment. chapter xix. giraffe tries for the fourteenth time. "whatever can we do, giraffe?" asked bumpus, presently, after he had sighed several times, in a most forlorn way. "oh!" remarked the other, making out to be little concerned about the matter, although his manner did not deceive the fat boy in the least, for he knew giraffe was worried greatly; "there are lots of things we can do, all right; but you see the trouble is, bumpus, they ain't agoin' to help out much." "we're in a tough hole, all right," grunted the other, disconsolately. "talk about thad and step hen camping out;" giraffe went on to say, "why their troubles couldn't be mentioned in the same breath with ours, and you know it. they had aplenty of matches along, and could get all the blaze they wanted." "and say, think of having the best part of a fine young buck to cook!" burst out bumpus, with another groan. "as for us, we've got the game all right; but however can we get down to eating partridges that ain't ever even been near a fire." "quit talkin' of eating, bumpus; you fairly set me wild," declared the tall boy, rubbing his empty stomach, as though its calls were growing more insistent with a knowledge that they must pass unheeded now. "then you must be hungry?" suggested bumpus. "hungry ain't no name for it," giraffe replied. "that's always the way, i've been told. when there ain't no water, a feller feels as if his tongue was stickin' to the roof of his mouth. and bumpus, bein' hungry ain't the very worst of it, either!" the fat boy sat up, and looked at his companion in misery as though startled. "what you mean, giraffe, by slingin' that scare into me; i'd like to know what's worse than starvin' to death in a single night?" he demanded. "oh! shucks! don't you worry about that," the other went on, with a sneer. "not so much chance of our comin' to such an end in so short a time. but there is real danger around us, bumpus." "say, do you mean about them wolves?" exclaimed bumpus, with a tremble in his voice. "that's just what i do mean," came the reply "when they tackled our comrades, why they were bold as anything, even if the boys did have a fire burning all the time. think of how we're up against it, without a single match to start a blaze." "then there's only one thing for us to do, giraffe." "suppose you tell me what that is?" demanded the tall scout. "climb a tree," replied bumpus, promptly. giraffe made an impatient gesture. "of course we could do that, as a last resort, bumpus; but the chances are, if we did, we'd freeze before morning!" he declared. "i've heard old hunters say that of all the agony they ever endured, being kept in a tree all night was the worst. feel in your pockets again, bumpus; try everywhere, and see if you can only scare up _one_ single match. if you did, we'd be mighty careful not to waste it, i tell you. this is a case of 'my kingdom for a match!'" so the fat scout commenced a systematic search, every single pocket did he feel in with trembling fingers, while his comrade watched his face anxiously, knowing that it was likely to indicate the success or failure of the search. when he saw a sudden grin come upon that broad countenance giraffe felt like bursting out into a yell of joy. "got one, haven't you bumpus?" he exclaimed, eagerly. "that was a bully good idea of mine after all, you see, having you look again. say, won't we be careful of that one precious match, though? and won't we have the fine dry stuff all ready to kindle, as soon as i strike it. you must let me handle things, bumpus, because, you know, i'm more used to--what's the matter with you? don't tell me it _ain't_ a match after all? oh! thunder!" bumpus had slowly drawn his hand out of his pocket, and held some object up between his forefinger and his thumb. it was about the length of a match, but had a sharpened point, instead of a blunt head. "a--a miserable toothpick that i just dropped into my pocket when we ate that dinner at the restaurant!" groaned the wretched bumpus, staring first at the offending object, and then turning a piteous face toward his comrade. giraffe managed to rise to the occasion. perhaps he remembered that thad had really committed the other into his charge; and that it was to him the scoutmaster would look to give a good account of the expedition. and then again, bumpus was so shocked by the series of calamities which had befallen them that he looked almost ready to collapse. so giraffe drew himself up, and assumed a confidence that he was far from feeling. "don't take on so, bumpus," he went on to say, almost cheerily. "it may not be so very bad, after all. don't let's forget that we're scouts; and must keep a stiff upper lip whenever things turn out wrong. we'll just do the best we can; and i reckon it'll all come out right in the end. it nearly always does, you know." at least his words and manner had some effect on the almost exhausted fat boy, who brightened up more or less. "now, that's nice of you talking that way, giraffe," he said. "you're the right kind of a chum to have in time of trouble. but say, ain't it gettin' cold though? is that why you're slapping your arms around so?" "try it, and see how quick you feel warmer, bumpus," replied the other, with the patronizing air of one who is superior in knowledge, and willing to impart all he knows; "you see, the violent action starts the heart to beating nearly twice as fast as it does ordinarily; and that pumps the blood harder, so it gets to the very end of your extremities. that's what thad says, anyhow; and it sure enough works." so, for a minute or two both lads kept up a strenuous exercise, though it was too much for poor bumpus, who presently stopped. "feel better, don't you?" demanded giraffe imperiously. "a whole lot; but doin' that has one bad point, i find," said bumpus. "as how?" asked his companion. "why, it keeps on making you all the hungrier; exercise always has that effect on me. why, giraffe, i feel like i could eat a whole ham right now." "didn't i tell you to let up on that style of talk; you're just making me groan inside every time you speak of eatin'. we ought to be tryin' our level best to better our condition." "but i don't know anything that would help us, giraffe; so it's up to you to get us out of this ugly hole. perhaps we might use a shell from my gun, and by taking out most of the powder, snap it off, and start a fire going." strange to say, giraffe did not seem to take to the idea, simple though it was; and later on commended by thad and allan, when they heard about the trouble. the fact was, giraffe had suddenly remembered something. "you leave it to me, and see if i don't pull out a trick worth while," he remarked mysteriously; and bumpus saw him turn aside to get down on his knees. for some time the fat boy sat there, apparently lost in bitter reflections. now and then he would give a start, and look around him hastily, after which he would heave a great sigh, or else groan dismally. from this it might be assumed that bumpus was allowing himself to dwell upon many a glorious supper he had devoured in the company of his boy scout chums; and just then he was enjoying things the best he knew how, he would remember the desolation that confronted himself and giraffe. then he would pick up one of the two partridges that had fallen to his new marlin ten bore, look critically at it, feel the meat on the plump breast; and then shake his head, as though the idea of having to turn cannibal, and devour the game raw did not appeal at all to him. on one occasion, when he aroused himself from this abstraction he became conscious of a strange humming sound. "what you doin' there, giraffe?" he demanded, as the noise certainly proceeded from the spot where his chum was down on his hands and knees. "why, you see," replied the other, slowly, "i fetched my little bow and fire-makin' outfit along with me, thinkin' i might have a chance to try a scheme i got in my head. i'm gettin' right into it now, because i want to start business before it's real plumb dark!" but far from reassuring the dejected bumpus, these words only made him grunt. had he not watched giraffe working away for dear life with that miserable little outfit a dozen times, and always with the same result--getting perilously near success, but always missing it by a hair's breadth? what chance did they have of securing the much desired fire, if all depended on giraffe succeeding in inducing that twirling stick to generate enough heat to throw off a spark that would catch in the dry tinder? none at all. it was only a hollow mockery. some smart scouts might be able to do the little trick; but up to now it had baffled the skill of giraffe. why, even thad had lost pretty much all hope of his ever succeeding, bumpus suspected; and believed that the only good thing about the tall scout's labors was his persistence. so, shaking his head again dolefully, bumpus allowed himself to once more figure out a bill of fare that he would like to commence on, if he only had the good fortune to sit down at a table in a first-class restaurant. it seemed to give him untold satisfaction just to imagine the heaping platters that were being brought before him in rapid succession. why, in his vivid imagination he could almost get the delicious odors of the various dishes that had long been favorites with him; particularly the liver and bacon and fried onions. oh! how tantalizing to suddenly arouse himself with a start, to look around at the rapidly darkening scene of those lonely pine woods, and hear, instead of the waiter's cheery voice, only that continual grinding sound, as the boy with the never-give-up nature kept sawing away with his miserable little bow; and the poor stick kept whirling back and forwards with a violent motion, in the socket that held one end. in the estimation of bumpus, that was coming down from the sublime to the ridiculous. he had little confidence in all this labor of giraffe; though goodness knows, that if ever success would prove a boon to a couple of stranded hunters caught in the darkness of a wintry night, with not a match in their possession, it was then. chapter xx. the long vigil of a scout. it really looked to bumpus as though sooner or later they must come to climbing a tree, no matter how cold they found it on such a perch. and as it would presently be dark, since night was rapidly coming on, he wondered whether he would not be showing good judgment in selecting the proper kind of a tree, while there was enough light to see by. but before he started to look around him, he thought it worth while to ascertain how his companion was doing; although to tell the truth bumpus did not have the slightest hope of any good news. "ain't you gettin' anywhere yet, giraffe?" he asked, as he rose clumsily, and wearily to his feet; for his short legs felt very stiff after resting so long. the other gave a grunt as he replied: "oh! don't bother me with such silly questions, bumpus. you make me think of that story of blue beard, where the old feller's a waitin' for his last wife to come down, and get her head taken off; and she keeps callin' to her sister, who's in the lookout tower: 'sister ann, sister ann, don't you see anything comin'?'" "but i want to know before i--" began bumpus, when the other interrupted him. "you _will_ know all right, if i get it. but you keep away from me, bumpus. once before, you fell all over me, just when i was on the point of grabbing a spark. if you know what's good for you, keep clear of me now. i'm desperately in earnest, i tell you. so be warned, bumpus!" the fat scout realized that if he knew what was good for him he had better give giraffe a wide berth while he was strumming away with his "old fiddle," as some of the boys sneeringly described the fire outfit that continually refused to "fire" even a little bit. "i'm going to look for a good tree," he said. "all right, go, and climb up in it, good and hard," giraffe answered pettishly; "but unless you want to get lost, don't you dare go out of sight of this place. call if you lose sight of me, bumpus, d'ye hear? i don't want thad to say i didn't keep an eye on you; but this is a business that must be attended to." all the while he was sawing away as if his very life depended upon bringing the ordeal to a successful termination; and possibly giraffe thought it did. so bumpus began to look around him. he realized that the tall pines were rather out of the question so far as affording them a chance to climb up; and that he must find some tree of a different type, with low branches. it was not hard to find such a retreat in the shape of a thick hemlock, with its glossy green foliage that had such a delightful scent. bumpus knew it well, because on numerous occasions the scouts had plucked masses of similar "browse," to make the ground feel easier where they slept. if they had to climb a tree as a last resort, this hemlock would offer all the advantages they wished. why, bumpus could even remember how eli had told of an adventure that had befallen him along somewhat similar lines; and how in order not to fall from his perch in the crotch of a tree, he tied himself there by means of some stout cord he happened to have along. bumpus felt all through his pockets again, and was grievously disappointed not to discover a hank of fishing cord. "seems like i'm just out of everything that a feller's apt to want when he gets in a bad pickle like this," he grumbled. "ketch me bein' in such a hole again. why, i'm goin' to make it the point of my life to always carry a plenty of matches along; and a line that would be strong enough to hold a feller, if i had to use it. how would jim fished up his gun, and shot them wolves, like he told us, if so be he didn't tear his shirt into strips, an' made a rope, with a loop at the end, to slip over the end of his rifle lyin' on the ground. next time i get the chance i'm goin' to fix a nice clothes line, and wrap it around me every time i go out in the woods. never know how handy such things might come in. wonder how giraffe's gettin' along with his sawin'? but i don't dare say another word, or he'll be so mad he might break his silly old bow on my back." he walked toward the spot where he could see the dim figure of the industrious fire worshipper bending low over at his labor. again bumpus sank down to the ground; although he was shivering with the cold, he did not dare swing his arms around as before, lest it make him remember how hungry he was. sitting there, he listened to the breeze sighing among the branches of the pines; and to his excited mind it was actually laughing at the predicament of the wretched chums. something else came stealing to his hearing, something that made bumpus suddenly sit up, hold his breath, and strain his senses trying to locate the direction from which it seemed to spring, and at the same time guess the nature of the sound. "i wonder now, was that a wildcat growling?" he asked himself. the thought was so disquieting, owing to the gathering gloom, that he could not help reaching out his hand toward the heavy marlin that he had temporarily laid on the ground near by. while the sound, whatever it may have been, was not repeated, so far as bumpus could tell, still he felt far from satisfied about it. what if the sly old cat was at that very moment creeping up on them? for all they knew, it might be close by just then, "inching" its way along, just as he had watched a tame tabby do at home, when trying to steal upon a sparrow it wanted for its dinner. bumpus became quite nervous over the thought. he drew back the hammers of his double-barrel, and began to look around him. all sorts of stories that he had heard told from time to time about these bobtailed cats of the pine woods, with their cousin, the lynx, that had tassels on its ears, now floated before his mind. naturally they did not tend to ease the strain under which he was laboring; for where he had before only imagined he could see one pair of yellow eyes staring at him from out the gloom, he now began to see them everywhere. why, the woods must be full of the creatures, and they were going to set upon the unfortunate scouts, to make a meal for that cold night. and another thing gave bumpus great uneasiness; there was no use of trying to get away from this army of "yellow-eyes" by climbing that hemlock; since cats were as much at home in any kind of tree as on the ground. no wonder bumpus shivered now, with something more than the cold air. they were certainly up against it, good and hard; and if ever they saw thad and the rest of the scouts again, how happy they should be. why didn't giraffe quit his fooling with that silly old bow, and take to thinking up some scheme that was worth while? it seemed the height of foolishness for him to be wasting all his time with that ridiculous fire-making dodge, that never could be done anyway. bumpus was almost tempted to stumble forward, and pretend to fall over his kneeling figure, just to upset things, and make giraffe come to his proper senses. he would, only he was a little afraid that the tall scout might be so furious that he would do something violent; for he was getting "awful touchy" on the subject of making a fire in that way. "if i could only make dead sure of one of them yellow eyes, i'd like to knock the beast over," bumpus was muttering to himself; and then he rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, as if trying to see better, after which he said disconsolately: "it ain't no use, they just keep dancin' all around me. p'raps there ain't any cats there at all. p'raps i'm just imaginin' things, like my dad used to say i did, when they put me to bed in the dark, tellin' me the angels was all around me, an' wouldn't let anything hurt me; but pretty soon, when the skeeters got busy, i let out a whoop, and told 'em the angels was bitin' me something awful. p'raps if i shut my eyes i'd feel better." but when he started to try this, bumpus found that it would not work. the agony of not being able to see created new fancies in his mind, much more dreadful than those that had gone before. and so the anxious scout crouched there, not far from his industrious chum, gripping his gun tightly in both hands, and breathing stertorously as he twisted his fat neck around from side to side. he was trying to figure out a line of action to be followed in case the worst came to pass; and be it said to his credit that bumpus was resolved to die game, as became a true scout. at any rate, giraffe could not keep up that silly business much longer. either he would just have to give over through complete exhaustion; or else his "bally bow," as bumpus liked to call it, would break, as it had a faculty for doing when the cord became weakened from constant friction. bumpus only wished that time would hurry along, for he wanted giraffe to forget about his fad, and turn his attention to a more sensible way of getting fire. now, there must be a way of snapping an emptied shell into a little pile of tinder, and catching the spark in some manner. he tried to figure out how it could be done; but bumpus never was very bright with regard to details, for they confused him; so that he was soon floundering about like a fish out of water; or a boy who did not know how to swim, when he gets beyond his depth. why, it was real dark, and he could just barely make out the crouching figure of giraffe; but that everlasting humming sound still kept up, until bumpus thought it would set him crazy. now bumpus started on a new tack. he tried to imagine the delight of his companion if only he could suddenly remember having thrust a little box of safety matches into his haversack before starting out; but he knew it was useless to look, for he had certainly done nothing of the sort. then, all of a sudden, bumpus was given an electric shock, when giraffe let out a shrill whoop; for with his mind so filled by visions of armies of wildcats all ready to pounce upon them by and by, bumpus was in a condition to be startled. he scrambled to his knees, and half raised his gun to his shoulder, under the full belief that the crisis so long dreaded was at last upon them, and they would have to fight desperately for their very lives. chapter xxi. the little fire bow does its work at last. "oh! what is it, giraffe?" exclaimed bumpus, in a quavering voice. "i _told_ you i c'd do it! on'y gimme time, and i'll figger the old thing out, i said; _and i have_!" cried the exultant giraffe. "why, it's burnin'!" gasped the other, staring at the tiny flame that was playing hide-and-seek in the midst of the dry tinder that had so long awaited its coming. "sure it is; anybody with one eye could see that!" giraffe sent back, about as happy a fellow as the sun ever shone on, because his long endurance test had in the end met with such grand success. "hey! what's the matter, bumpus? get a move on, and collect some stuff to add to this, before the thing goes out on me. lively, boy, lively with you, while i shield it with my hands!" he hugged the little blaze with his body and hands while bumpus, dropping the now useless gun, eagerly gathered a lot of dry pine needles, and made a pile of them close to his chum. "oh! glory! bully for you, giraffe! you're the scout who can stick to a thing like a plaster. don't it look good, though?" cried the shorter lad; but the fire-maker would not let him loiter. presently there was no longer any dread of the fire burning out; and both of the scouts could get busy collecting fuel. dead branches were in demand, and fortunately enough, there happened to be plenty of the same close by, so that without much effort they were able to get quite a heap near the fire. "now let's sit down, and warm up a bit," suggested bumpus; although truth to tell, he was at that moment perspiring from his recent exertions. "and if you want to talk about eating _now_, bumpus, you're quite welcome," the taller scout went on to say, with a grin; "because there's something to it. we've got the birds, and we've got the fire to cook 'em by. who said i couldn't start a fire by sawin' at my fiddle till i burst a blood vessel? wasn't it davy jones? well, you c'n just tell him for me, next time you see him, bumpus, that he was all wrong. why, it's just as easy as fallin' off a log; er, that is, after you know how." "shall we start in plucking the feathers off these birds, giraffe?" "might as well, if we mean to eat 'em; and speakin' for my own feelings i want to say that a partridge'd go mighty well about now. yum! yum! get busy with one, and i'll tackle the other." both boys knew how to do the job of plucking the birds, and soon had the feathers flying. both of them were feeling a thousand per cent better than before; and bumpus even hummed as he worked. giraffe's thoughts very naturally kept along the line of his recent triumph. he had labored so long, and against such a handicap, that he might well be excused for feeling proud of his success. "good little bow!" he muttered; "you did the business, all right, didn't you? the trouble was, i didn't just know how to handle you; but i've got it down pat now, and i'll never forget again, never. wonder what the boys'll say when they hear about it? and bumpus, it came in right pat, didn't it?" "i should say it did, giraffe," replied the other, enthusiastically; "when we didn't have a single match, night here, cold as the dickens, wolves howling pretty soon, and no way of cooking these plump partridges. why, if you'd gone and arranged all the particulars, i don't believe you could a had it hit us at a better time. it's just great, that's what." "and the cream is on you, bumpus." "shucks! who cares for that? why, a little while ago i'd given all the spending money i expect to get as my share of the rewards for returnin' those lost bank papers, for just one little penny box of matches. why, i'll be only too happy to treat the whole crowd six times over, after this. there, my bird's done, giraffe." "same here; and now how are we agoin' to cook 'em?" the other scout remarked. bumpus looked at him rather blankly. "that's so," he observed, "we ain't got a sign of a frying-pan, have we?" "but there must be a way of cooking 'em by keeping the birds close to the fire. all old hunters cook their game that way. and don't you remember, bumpus, thad and step hen took sticks, and stuck 'em in the ground, with chunks of venison on the other end. step said it was just prime. well, what's to hinder our trying that same old game?" "but the partridges are too big and heavy; they won't ever cook through?" objected the fat scout, doubtfully. "all right; i guess now we can manage to slice the same in half," giraffe continued, hopefully. "i've done the job for my folks at home, more'n a few times, when they wanted to broil a spring chicken for some sick person. we'll have our game broiled, bumpus, see?" "sure we will; and while you're about it, with that big-bladed knife of yours, giraffe, give mine a rip down the back, so i c'n split it open. it's easy to see you know how. thad and allan ain't got so very much on you, when it comes to doin' things." by this artful flattery did bumpus manage to get his bird divided. he spread it out carefully, and then started a hunt for the long sticks, by means of which the bird was to be held in a proper position before the hot fire. after considerable waste of energy, they finally managed, after a fashion, to get the birds placed so that they received a fair portion of the heat that came out of the fire. several times the sticks either broke, or else failed to hold properly, so that the game fell into the ashes, to be hastily rescued, and wiped off before again being put over the fire. the minutes dragged, and to the hungry scouts it seemed as though the two partridges had tantalized them long enough. they gave forth an odor that was positively appetizing; and finally giraffe just could not stand it another minute. "say, they must be done by now," he remarked, eying his bird ravenously. "they look pretty brown," remarked bumpus, "though that may come from the scorching they got each time they dipped in the red-hot ashes. but i feel just like you do, giraffe; and if you say the word, it's a go." at that the tall scout started to savagely tear at one-half of his bird; and not to be outdone the other boy copied his example. perhaps at home they would have complained long and loudly because the cook had sent food to the table only half done; but then circumstances alter cases; and sitting there by their lonely camp-fire under the pines and hemlocks, those two boys munched away, and nodded toward each other in a suggestive way, that told how much they were enjoying it. what if the meat was far from being well cooked, did not those who knew say that game should never be browned; and as for the gray ash that still clung to the outside of each bird, why, the wood was sweet and clean that it came from; and every fellow has to eat his peck of dirt sometime or other, they understood. and so they kept persistently at it until nothing but the bones remained of the two partridges; and each boy was sighing because, like alexander of old, there were no more worlds to conquer. "that was just prime!" declared bumpus; "and to think that i shot the dandy birds too; so you owe your fine supper to me, giraffe." "i do, eh?" chuckled the other. "how about the fire, tell me that? how'd them same birds tasted raw? you wouldn't have liked 'em as much, i reckon. so, you see, after all, bumpus, honors are about even; you supplied the game, and i fixed up the fire. better call it a drawn battle, and end it." "all right, just as you say; but the only trouble i can see is they wasn't near big enough to fit in with my capacity. there's a vacuum still under my belt; even if i don't feel faint any longer." "oh! i guess we can hold out now till morning," said giraffe. "then we'll take our bearings again, and make another start for the camp. and p'raps some of them might just be out looking for us right now; and seeing this bright fire, they'll head this way. so we'll act like we're havin' the time of our lives; and don't you ever go and let on that we felt scared even a little bit, hear now?" bumpus, having a little pride of his own, readily promised. besides, now that they had partaken of a very good supper, and had that bright and cheery fire to keep them company during the remainder of the cold night, things looked vastly different; so that it was hard to believe he had ever shivered and groaned as he contemplated their forlorn condition. they sat there, talking about various things, for quite a little time. once or twice bumpus fancied he heard some sort of sound in the woods that caused him to send a quick glance toward where he had laid his "trusty marlin" down; but then, as giraffe did not seem to pay any attention to the noise, he soon forgot it. but there came a time when both of them plainly heard a cough. giraffe grinned, and nodded his head. "the boys are comin' all right," he said, as if pleased; "just like i said they'd be apt to do. now, just sit where you are, bumpus, and make out to be as happy as a king. we'll make 'em believe we're quite at home at this sort of thing; and the only thing we're sorry for is that we can't offer 'em a nice hot bird apiece. look pleasant, now." presently they caught what sounded like the low murmur of voices, and they seemed to be approaching too. it did not occur to the two scouts that the parties were coming from a direction opposite to the camp where their chums had been left; partly because they had not the remotest idea where that same camp lay. now they could hear the swishing of bushes, as though the newcomers were not very particular about how they walked. then it must be step hen or davy jones who made all the noise, because they were greenhorns, and did not know how to walk noiselessly. "i c'n see 'em comin'," remarked bumpus, who happened to be sitting in a position that allowed of his using his eyes. "remember, now, what i told you; just be feelin' as fine as silk, as if this camp business was an old story with us," and to further the deception giraffe started to stretch his arms, and yawn at a tremendous rate. bumpus did not answer; and thinking this a little strange the tall scout turned his eyes that way. he discovered that bumpus was staring as though his eyes would almost pop out of his head. that, of course, made giraffe twist his long neck half way around, so that he might share in what had aroused his companion to such a state of excitement. and giraffe also experienced a decided thrill when he saw two men come half staggering into camp, who from their looks he knew must be si kedge and ed harkness, the rough and lawless game poachers and bullies of the pine woods. chapter xxii. "be prepared!" the two poachers were undoubtedly partly under the influence of liquor; for the boys could see that they did not walk as straight as they should have done. besides, their eyes looked red, and there were other evidences of drunkeness, familiar to giraffe and bumpus, who had often seen drunken men. this made the situation the more critical, because in this condition men often do things that they might hesitate to attempt if not under the influence of strong drink. they halted not far from the fire, and looked at the two scouts sitting there. "on'y two boys arter all, si," remarked the one they supposed was ed harkness, as he swayed slightly to and fro, while coming to a halt. "i guessed as haow yuh must a be'n mistook w'en yuh said it mout be ther hull outfit. les sit down, si, an' make us tuh hum." fitting the action with his words he dropped on the ground, and held out a pair of red and trembling hands to the fire. his companion still stood there, glaring at the two boys, just as though they had done something to offend him. plainly si kedge was something of a pine wood's bully; and he thought it good policy to cow giraffe and bumpus right at the start, so as to take the spirit out of them. indeed, bumpus looked so white and frightened that it encouraged the man to follow up his half-conceived idea. "say, whaz yuh doin' here? where's the rest o' the bunch? know me? i'm si kedge, an' i'm a bad man to rile; so don't get gay now. got anythin' to eat 'raound here?" bumpus cast a quick, apprehensive glance toward his companion. his one prevailing idea just then was that they ought to get up, and skip out as lively as they could, leaving their nice fire for the two rough woodmen to enjoy. as far as he could see, neither of the men seemed to possess any firearm; at least they certainly did not carry guns, as might be expected. but bumpus saw something in the face of his chum that told him giraffe was not thinking of giving up that hard earned fire. he had worked too long to get it, to desert the comfortable camp, just because two half drunken fellows chanced to wander that way. bumpus saw more than that. giraffe had his big old rifle across his knees. he must have reached out his hand and secured it, while his chum was still staring at the unpleasant couple who had invaded their camp. that gave the fat boy an idea, following which he too reached for his gun, though not making any show of it, for fear of arousing a storm. "we've been hunting, and got twisted in our bearings; so we thought it best to go into camp," giraffe started to say, trying to keep his voice from wabbling, as it seemed to be trying its best to do. "and as for grub, we haven't got a single bite along with us." "they lies, si!" burst out the second man; "'case i kin see a heap o' bones clost ter whar they is settin', like they'd be'n eatin' some game." "we have," replied giraffe; "we knocked over a couple of birds, but they wasn't half enough to satisfy us." "huh! got any licker?" went on si, still eying the boys steadily with that half threat in his bloodshot eyes, that giraffe knew meant trouble, sooner or later, so that he almost instinctively allowed his thumb to draw back the hammer of his big bore rifle. "we never use it; and on that account don't carry a drop along with us," he answered. "i guess naow, ther foolin' yuh, si!" broke in the fellow who was sitting down. "and looky thar, d'ye see they gut guns? them's w'at we needs ther wust kind, sense cale martin took ours away, w'en he sez as haow we're that drunk we'd git inter trouble with 'em. bring me thet double-barrel. allers did say as haow i'd like tuh own a scattergun, tuh use on pa'tridge. d'ye hear me?" bumpus looked to giraffe. he was unable to grapple with the situation himself; but perfectly willing to do whatever his chum directed. had the tall boy told him to step over, and present the poacher with his nice new marlin ten-bore, bumpus no doubt would have done it without a murmur. "get the hammers raised," was what giraffe said instead. "gee! are you agoin' to fight?" muttered bumpus; but obeying instantly. the poacher who had made the demand made a move as though half tempted to get up and enforce his words; but seemed to think better of it. "i'll step over, an' tackle yuh arter i got my hands warm, see ef i don't," he remarked. bumpus breathed again, for he had thought that the crisis was upon them. he saw that si kedge had also stepped closer to the fire, and thrust out his hands, as if not averse to taking some of the cold tingle out of them by the application of warmth. "what we goin' to do, giraffe?" whispered bumpus. "stand up for our rights, that's what," replied the other, in about the same style of voice. "they ain't going to chase me out of this camp, not if i know it." "but they're ugly, and mean to give us trouble," urged the alarmed bumpus. "you mean they think they are," returned giraffe, grinding his teeth, as if by that method he could infuse his soul with more of the fighting spirit that was required to grapple with the situation. "when they start to making a rough house here somebody's liable to get hurt. and as we hold guns, and they ain't got any, you c'n easy see who it's apt to be." "all right, giraffe; tell me what to do, that's all; because you see, i'm that rattled i just can't think for myself." "keep as cool as you can, bumpus, and it'll all come out right. if we can't handle a pair of fellers as unsteady as they are, it'll be some queer." "but if they keep right along comin' at us?" queried the other, anxiously. "then shoot!" replied giraffe, savagely, between his teeth. "right at 'em?" gasped the shorter scout. "oh! aim at their legs, like i'll do," returned giraffe. "we'd hadn't ought to do anything worse than that. but mark me, bumpus, when they see we mean business, they won't dare come far." giraffe was still very white, but his eyes shone with resolution. he had made up his mind just how he ought to act under the circumstances; and being exceedingly stubborn by nature it would require something little short of an earthquake to make him change now. meanwhile the two men had been muttering between themselves on the other side of the fire. what they were talking about the boys did not know; but doubtless it must have had something to do with the nice guns which they expected were so soon to fall into their possession; for neither of them could imagine that these two city boys, as they deemed the scouts, would dare defy them, once they ordered them to lay the guns on the ground. "be ready!" whispered giraffe again, and thus unconsciously repeating the motto of the organization to which both of them belonged, for preparedness is the cardinal virtue in every boy scout. the two poachers had evidently managed to map out some scheme by means of which they expected to overawe the lads, and secure everything they chanced to have about them, which was worth taking. bumpus could see that they were about to get upon their feet, and this must mean they intended to force conclusions. he shot one last look at giraffe, to imbibe some artificial courage, if such a thing were possible; and he saw that while the thin face of his chum looked ghastly white, it at the same time showed a pair of set jaws, and back of it gleaming eyes that told of a resolute spirit. and somehow the very realization that giraffe could be brave gave the fat scout the consolation he sought. he had followed out the injunction of the other, and both hammers of his marlin ducking gun were drawn back, while his forefinger toyed with the trigger of the right barrel. yes, the two men were about to start trouble, for already had the one they knew to be si kedge gained his feet, as he seemed a little more spry than his partner in wickedness. bumpus saw that he was starting to go around the fire in such a way that it must be giraffe who would have to look after him; while the second scoundrel, ed harkness, fell to his lot. he elevated his gun a little, so that he could throw it to his shoulder in the wink of an eyelid, if necessary. then he waited for the turn of events. "we're acomin' 'raound tuh see yuh, kids," called out si kedge, in a thick and meant to be threatening tone; "an' see tuh it yuh don't give us any trouble; er it'll be the wuss fur ye. stand up, an' make us a present o' them fine traps yer holdin'. it ain't right thet boys shud be kerryin' guns, w'ile men goes without. go on, ed; what yuh standin' back fur?" ed knew. he did not like the way that double-barreled gun was aiming in his direction. the two boys had hastily climbed to their feet at the proper instant; and both of them were now standing there, presenting their guns, but not in the fashion si had intended when he gave the order, for they were "muzzle to the front." "just stand where you are, both of you!" said giraffe, in a low but threatening voice. "i've got a bead on you, si kedge, and if you want to see how well i can shoot this big-bore gun, just take two more steps forward. bumpus, got that other coward covered, have you?" "you're right, i have!" sang out the fat scout, trying to appear as bold as if the whole thing might be only a little comedy that he was enjoying immensely; when, to tell the honest truth, bumpus could feel his fat knees striking each other just like he had seen the telegraph operator pound the key of his instrument; but if his gun wabbled, the fact was hardly apparent to the man he was trying to keep covered. it was certainly a fine tableau, that would often come back to the memories of those two lads in future days. but while they seemed to be holding the fort, so to speak, giraffe knew only too well that they were up against two desperate characters, and that if they slipped just one cog, it might have a different ending than the one they wished to see. what to do with the two men, now that they had thrown down the gage of battle, and virtually made them prisoner, was a puzzle that giraffe had to solve. but his success thus far gave him courage to go at the new difficulty with resolution. and bumpus, content to bask in the glory of his chum's more aggressive nature, gave promise of proving himself a good scout, obedient to the one in authority over him and capable of doing his little part in the game. chapter xxiii. capturing the game poachers. "don't yuh shoot, younker!" called out si kedge, when, on advancing just one more step, he found himself confronted by the rifle held by giraffe, who had his cheek laid down on the stock, as though he were taking aim. "i won't, if you do just what i tell you!" said the scout, growing bolder when he saw that a sudden spasm of alarm had taken possession of the poacher, as he realized the conditions confronting him. "wat yuh want us tuh do?" asked si. "throw up your hands, in the first place, and be quick about it!" commanded the scout, thinking that was the proper thing to demand; because, in every account he had ever read of such events, the one who held the gun always gave that order. si kedge did as he was told, but only after a vast amount of hard language. "you too!" bumpus managed to call out; for since his comrade had shown the way, he did not find it quite so difficult to follow. "ther up, doan't yuh see, ez far ez i kin git 'em!" complained ed harkness; and then seeing the fat boy elevating his gun, he made out to duck, under the evident impression that bumpus might be tempted to pull trigger, and fill him full of bird shot. "keep thet gun daown thar, kid; i don't like ther way yuh handles ther same. yuh got us fur keeps; an' we ain't squealin', is we, si?" giraffe thought fast. if they allowed these two men to go free, the chances were they would hang around, and try to give them all the trouble they could during the night that was now well upon them. and the idea of letting them remain there by the fire without being put under bonds, never occurred to the boy. he knew neither of them could be trusted further than they could be seen; that was stamped on their ugly faces, and the shifty look in their evil eyes. there was really only one thing to do, and that was to make them prisoners. once that had been accomplished, at least they might pass a peaceful night; and then in the morning, if the humor seized them, it would be just as easy to let the men go as to keep them. but how on earth were they to tie the two men up? it looked like a hard proposition, and giraffe had to cudgel his brains with considerable gusto before he was able to produce any result. but it dawned upon him finally that if the men were compelled to lie flat on their faces on the ground, and place their hands behind them, bumpus might straddle each in turn, and fasten their wrists, while he, giraffe threatened with the guns. "listen to me," he said, with the air of a commander giving his final orders on the field of battle; "both of you have got to lie down on your faces, and put your hands behind your back; do you understand?" "be yuh agoin' tuh tie us up?" asked si, his face as black as a thundercloud. "just that, and nothing more," replied giraffe, resolutely. "you think that because we're only two boys that we'll stand for a heap; but that's where you're away off your base. get busy now, and down on your marrowbones, both of you!" "air yuh agoin' tuh let us go free in the mornin'?" asked ed harkness, already on his knees, for he wished to placate that uneasy fat boy, who kept raising his gun again and again, as though anxious to press the trigger just a little harder all the time. "if you don't give us any trouble, we might; because so far as we're concerned we're not up here to help the game warden arrest you fellows. lie down now, or else we'll have to help you!" this was a ferocious threat for giraffe to make; and doubtless he would have been exceedingly loth to put it into operation; but then the case was a desperate one, and required a remedy of like nature. even such a fire-eater as si kedge "threw up the sponge," as bumpus put it, and knuckled down to the half grown tyrant. perhaps he realized that in his half boozy condition he was in no shape to grapple with the dilemma by which he and his companion found themselves faced. what with their hands tied by the fact of their guns having been taken by cale martin, they were perfectly helpless. and two firearms held in the hands of a couple of determined boys can be just as dangerous as if grown men had them. so, still uttering more or less protestations, coupled with hard language, both si and ed sprawled out flat on their faces. "now, bumpus, it's going to be your job to secure them both, while i cover you with the guns; and if either of them tries any funny business, he'll wish he hadn't right speedy, believe me," said giraffe, loud enough for the others to hear, for he wished them to wholly understand the situation. bumpus placed his shotgun close to the feet of his chum. then he looked blankly around. "that's easy to say, giraffe," he remarked in a stage whisper; "i'm willing enough to do it, tell you that; but where in sam hill am i agoin' to get the rope? we didn't bring any with us, you know; though i'm resolved never to go off again without a whole clothes line along. how c'n a feller tie 'em up when he ain't got even a top string with him?" if bumpus thought to get his chum in a corner with that question, he figured too soon, for the other had discounted it already. "here, take this," he said, throwing his red bandana handkerchief on the ground; "and i reckon you've got the mate to it in your pocket. use one to wrap around the wrists of each feller. and see to it that you tie it in half a dozen of the hardest knots you know how. understand, bumpus?" "that's right, and i c'n do it too. you watch me." as the fat boy spoke he picked up the large bandana handkerchief, and stepped gingerly forward, giraffe accompanying him part way. evidently bumpus had recovered somewhat from his fright. possibly this new boldness sprang from confidence in the ability of his comrade to handle the situation. at any rate, he threw a leg over the prostrate figure of ed harkness, and seizing both his wrists, jerked them together. the man might have raised some protest, or even attempted to show resistance; but once that plump form of bumpus came down on him he had the breath partly pressed out of his body, and must have experienced a sudden weakness. at any rate, he lay still, while the other wound the crude rope around his wrists, and knotted it good and hard. "fine!" declared giraffe, who had been watching the operation with one eye, all the while he kept the other on si kedge; "now take your own handkerchief, and use it on si. and put in three extra knots, bumpus, because he's that much more a slick one than the other feller. lie still, now, i warn you, si; we ain't going to stand for any fooling, i tell you!" si also relapsed into silence as soon as bumpus dropped on his back; he was pinned to the ground almost as effectually as though secured there by ropes. bumpus finished his part of the job, and arose, perspiring, but triumphant. "she's done, giraffe, and as good as i know how," he said, exultantly. "i just warrant you that neither of them game stealers is agoin' to break loose in a hurry now. what's next on the little programme? this is sure turning out to be a warm night for us, giraffe. tell me, won't the fellers stare when we walk into camp drivin' these jail birds before us? oh! my! oh! me, i can see davy and step hen give us the royal salute. and i'll whistle 'lo, the conquering heroes come,' see if i don't." "well, we ain't in camp yet awhile," retorted giraffe; "and give me a hand to assist old si here over to that there tree. we c'n lean him up against the trunk, so he can keep warm, and look around him. then ed, he might have a place against this other pine, here. but bumpus, there ain't going to be any sleep much for us this blessed night, with two toughs to watch like these fellers." bumpus sighed, for he was very tired after a whole day's tramp. "i suppose not, giraffe;" he remarked, but stiffening up to add; "you'll find me ready to back you up in anything you start goin'. i'm game for it, i reckon; and if you see me agoin' to sleep in spite of everything, why, giraffe, just give me a kick or a punch in the ribs. i want to do my duty every time." "good for you, bumpus; i ain't goin' to make fun of you any more, because of your size. even fat fellers c'n come in mighty handy sometimes, especially when you've got a game poacher to hold down." they managed to get the two men against the trees, and as they still had their legs free this was not so difficult a task. then the watch began. giraffe kept his gun close to his hand. he spoke to his chum occasionally, more to see if bumpus were awake, than because of any desire to engage in conversation. the two men mumbled for a while, but finally their heads dropped on their chest and they seemed to slumber, though giraffe was suspicious, and would never slacken in his watchfulness on this account. he had made up his mind, however, that if bumpus did fall asleep, he would not arouse him, when there was no necessity for more than one guard at a time. an hour passed thus. then bumpus, who was just losing himself, in spite of his determination to remain on duty, felt his chum give him a shake. "oh! i'm awake, all right, giraffe; no need to scare me that way!" grumbled the fat scout, stirring himself, and looking around. "they're coming, just like i said," said giraffe. "looky over yonder, and you c'n see the lantern; and i reckon now, it's old eli that's followerin' our trail. but we don't want to be fooled a second time, bumpus, so get your gun ready for boarders." "boarders!" muttered the fat boy; "now i like that, when they ain't a blessed bit of grub in the pantry. better skip this boarding-house, and go on further. but giraffe, that sure _is_ eli; i c'n tell the way he swings along from here. whoever is it with him, d'ye think; why, see, there are two of 'em, and men, not boys of the silver fox patrol?" three minutes later, and old eli, grinning his pleasure, stalked into camp, to say: "huh! glad tuh find ye so well taken keer of, boys. an' so yeou hed a wisit frum si an' ed, did yeou; an' wall, what d'ye think o' thet, gents, here's yer birds all triced up, ready tew be transported to jail. this here is the game warden o' this deestrict, boys, lookin' for them critters. say as heow he don't calkerlate ter bother with old cale yet awhile; but hearin' as he's be'n an' contracted with a fox breedin' company, they'll wait an' see heow it pans eout. kinder guess they will. an' we'll jest stay by this fire till mornin', when we kin start back tew camp. thad knowed as heow yeou'd come out all right, giraffe; but he thort along abeout noon i'd better take up the trail; and i met these gents a few miles back, wonderin' if ther birds had made this here fire, so we stalked it!" and bumpus felt like venting his delight in one long loud yell of thanksgiving as he realized that their troubles were now at an end. chapter xxiv. to beard the tiger in his den. "sure you can go, jim; and what's more, i'd like to take the tramp with you, if it's agreeable to you!" jim hasty, the guide, swallowed something in his throat, when he heard thad say these words, for he was plainly much affected. he had come in a hesitating way to ask as a favor that, since the scouts were now settled for a few days in camp on the lake shore, could he be spared to make the run through the pine forests to where the well remembered cabin of old cale martin stood, from which he had carried little lina away, after her father had positively refused to even hear of their marriage. "it's mighty kind o' yeou tew say thet, an' i feel it, i swan," he finally stammered, as he managed to thrust out his brown hand, and take that of the boy which had been so impulsively offered to him. "why," thad went on, heartily, "you know, jim, i'm as much interested in this matter between you and cale martin as can be. and i'm just bound to see you through. i heard what one of those men told you about cale going off to his cabin, so's to try and keep away from temptation, while jim hasty was around the neighborhood. he'd sworn to pin your ears to a tree, and feared that he'd up and do it, if he had the chance. something better inside old cale was a tuggin' away at his hard old heart; and jim; you and i know what it is." the short guide nodded his head violently, while his eyes glittered. "pore ole dad, he wants tew see his leetle gal ther wust kind, an' it's jest his consarned pride as keeps him frum knucklin' right down, an' ownin' he war wrong. thet's what i sez in ther fust place. i jest knowed he dassen't raise a hand tew hurt me, as he threatened, 'cause lina keers fur even ther leetle finger o' my hand; an' she war ther apple o' his eye. an' shore i feels as it's agoin' tew be awl right, ef so be i kin on'y git a few words wid ther ole man, face tew face." "and you shall, if i can help you out, jim," declared the boy, with emphasis. "perhaps some day, i might even see the little lina that all this fuss has been about. i'd sure like to, the worst kind. but about when do you think we'd better hike out across country for the martin cabin, jim?" "i'd like tew start inside o' an hour," returned the other, quickly, as his eye instinctively turned upwards toward the heavens, with the idea of gauging what the weather might have in store for the state of maine during the next twenty-four hours. "i see, you're afraid of a heavy snowfall, that would make the going and coming a hard job; is that it, jim?" "it shore is, thad," replied the guide, promptly. "yew see, it's long past due. the woods is as dry as tinder, and we need a big fall o' snow er rain ther wust kind. d'ye think we mout git away by thet time?" "i don't see why not," answered the young scoutmaster "i'm feeling in apple pie condition this morning, myself; and you're just wild to make the venture. so we'll call it a go in an hour, jim. by that time breakfast will be done with, and the boys have their plans arranged for the day. eli will take charge with allan; and there ought to be no trouble. both bumpus and giraffe are too tired after what they went through with the day before yesterday, to want to wander; the game warden is well on his way with his two prisoners; and everything looks just fixed to carry out your little plan." "it does thet," returned the other, eagerly. "seems like things happened jest tew suit me. i calls it 'little lina luck,' fur they nigh allers turn thetaways when i'm tryin' tew please her. i worried a heap over them tew critters, si kedge an' ed harkness; thinkin' thet w'ile i mout convince dad, they was apt tew give me a lot o' trouble. an' see haow they was kerried off tew jail tew clar ther field fur me! oh! sumpin' tells me hit's goin' tew be awl rite yit." "is there anything we ought to take along with us besides our guns, and some grub, enough for several meals, because we won't have any time for hunting?" asked thad. "nawthin' as i knows on; i'm makin' sure to kerry ther life preserver," and as he said these mysterious words, jim pressed his hand against his breast, where in an inner pocket _something_ undoubtedly snuggled unseen; but somehow thad never once dreamed that the guide could refer to a pocket flask, because he happened to know jim did not drink. however, thad did not bother about trying to fathom jim's little secret. he fancied that it would all be made plain shortly; certainly when they happened upon the stern old man who was day after day cheating himself out of happiness, by refusing to let bygones be bygones, and accept things as they were. of course the balance of the silver fox patrol showed great interest when they heard what was the plan. thad could read a trace of disappointment on more faces than one when he announced that he meant to go alone with jim. a larger detachment would do more harm than good, since old cale might be angry at having his solitude invaded by a party that jim was piloting through the piney woods. and besides, allan was needed to take charge of the camp while the leader was away, step hen had had his outing in the company of thad, himself; bumpus and giraffe were fairly saturated with adventure, and still feeling the effects of their experience; while davy was needed in camp, and complaining of a lame foot besides. so within the hour that had been set for the start, thad and jim left camp, with many hearty wishes for their success. "be sure and tell us all about it when you get back!" called bumpus; for some of the boys scented a little romance back of jim's queer actions, and knew more or less about his relations with the giant father of his little wife. "and look sharp for forest fires, because, seems to me i smelled smoke in the air a little while ago!" were the last words from allan, who, being a maine boy, knew what such a thing meant. thad glanced sharply at jim. "do you imagine we'll stack up against anything like that, jim?" he asked. "thet's hard tew say," replied the guide. "at this time o' year, an' with ther woods as dry as they be, anything is possible, i'd say. i don't smell smoke right naow, but then ther wind mout a changed sense allan sez he did." "well, i hardly know whether i want to run up against a real woods' fire, or not," thad declared. "of course, i've always wanted to see what one looked like, because i've heard so much about them; we're on a new test now, for the silver fox patrol; being assistant fire wardens of the state of maine; and as such none of us should wish a fire to occur. so i'll just forget all about it. if one happens to come along, i guess there's no harm in my looking at it." jim laughed at this quaint philosophy. "i jest reckons naow, yeou'll be doin' a heap more'n jest lookin' at hit," he took occasion to remark, with a sage shake of his head. thad laughed outright. "i can guess what you mean, jim," he remarked. "you think that about that time the fire will take to chasing after me, and i'll have all i want to do in skipping out. well, let's forget all about that, now, and talk of something else. for one thing, this is a splendid crisp fall morning. i saw pretty good ice on the edge of the lake. and say, i'd like to be up here a month or two from now. i warrant you there's some mighty fine skating on that sheet of water." "thet they be, sumtimes," replied the other, with a nod. "i've seen hit jest as slick as a big pane o' glass fur miles an' miles. with ther wind ablowin' great guns i've jest opened my coat, an' been blown like a thistle-down from one end tew t'other, in less time than yew cud think. my dad, which is long gone, onct had an adventure with a pack o' wolves on thet same smooth ice, i kin remember him tellin' 'bout." "i'd like to hear it, jim," said the scout, eagerly. "wall, i'm a pore hand at tellin' a story," the guide admitted. "seems like he war askatin' home, arter killin' a deer, an' hed sum o' ther meat on his back, when ther wolves took arter him. they chased him right fast, and ther on'y way dad he cud 'scape ther fangs war by making a sharp turn every time they gut too clost. yer see ther critters cudn't swerve fast enuff, an'd slide a long ways on ther ice 'cause it war so smooth. an' in that way he kept goin' till he gut nigh home; when sum o' ther neighbors, they kim out, an' knocked spots outen ther wolves." "whew! i can just imagine it," declared thad, "and i wager, now, it must have been some exciting while it lasted." chatting in this way they tramped on through the pine woods, heading in a direct line for the distant cabin of cale martin, whose wife had long since been dead, so that with little lina also gone, the old woodsman had lived alone for more than a year, always nursing his grievance against jim hasty. when noon came, and they stopped a little while to refresh themselves with some of the food carried along in thad's haversack, jim announced that they must be more than half way to their destination. thad looked into the face of the guide frequently, wondering if jim's heart was beginning to fail him the closer he drew to the implacable giant who had uttered such ferocious threats against his new son-in-law; but the only thing he did notice was a smile of supreme confidence whenever jim happened to put up his hand to touch the breast of his coat, about the place where an inner pocket would be. and from this thad understood that the other had the fullest confidence that the message he was bearing to lina's father, the olive branch he meant to extend to old cale, was sure to work as she had intended it should. it was about an hour and more, possibly two, after the noon halt, that thad saw jim come to a stop, and start to sniff the air suspiciously. "what it it, jim?" he asked, though he could give a pretty good guess even before the woods' pilot uttered a word. "i smells smoke, sure enuff, naow," replied jim. "then the wind's changed, hasn't it?" inquired thad, bristling up, as a vision of more or less excitement to vary the monotony of this rather dreary tramp through the piney forest flashed before his mind. "it sure hes, thad; and i kinder guess afore a great while yeou might be havin' thet wish o' yeourn kim true; 'cause ther's a fire sumwhar not far away right naow; which, with ther change o' wind, is liable tew sweep daown on us like a whirlwind. mebbe so be yeou mout see more'n yeou bargained fur, thad!" chapter xxv. caught in the forest fire. "what's to be done about it, jim?" demanded the scoutmaster. "nawthin' as i kin see," came the guide's philosophical reply. "we hain't knowin' which way ther ole wind'll turn next, so it's as safe fur us tew keep right along like we was aheadin', as tew turn back fur camp." "then let's go on; an' perhaps after all, the fire'll give us the go-by," and as he said this thad put his best foot forward. "anyway," jim pursued, presently, "we cudn't know haow tew shape our plans till we cotched sight o' ther fire, an' knowed jest what she be. by naow p'raps ther hull woods ahind us mout be aflame; so by turnin' back, we'd jest be puttin' aour noses tew ther grindstone." they walked on a little faster than before. the talk was of course all about forest fires now, since it began to seem likely that thad was about to witness the first real big one of his experience. thad had a way of asking leading questions, and jim was no way averse to giving all the information in his power; so that before long the boy scout had learned a great many interesting facts connected with these terrors of the piney woods, by means of which thousands of acres of valuable timber used to be wiped out of existence every year, and often many lives lost as well. things are not the same as they used to be. the state of maine has a well equipped fire warden department; and during the fall season when the danger is greatest, extreme care is taken to call out these seasoned fire-fighters whenever their services are needed. besides, every licensed guide is expected to work in conjunction with the authorities in seeing that no party which he pilots into the woods becomes reckless about leaving fires burning after breaking camp. when another half hour had passed thad could no longer doubt that there was a fire burning somewhere not far away, and that they were now much closer than before to the scene of the conflagration. the smoke had become a thing that could be easily seen as well as smelled, and felt in the way of burning eyes and tickled nostrils. jim was on the alert. well did he know that it was no child's play, matching one's wits against a forest fire that was apt to encircle the unwary woodsman, and cut off his retreat, finally roasting him in a trap. "do you think it's already swept down on the martin cabin?" thad asked, somewhat anxiously. "thet i kain't tell," replied jim, as he looked up at the smoke that was sweeping above the tops of the tallest pines. "time was when it wudn't amattered any, 'cause yer see, dad martin, he kept a good clearin' all 'raound his shack; but i guess as haow he's been an' neglected it sense i took lina away, an' it's all growed up with brush, thet'd burn like tinder." "how far away are we now from the cabin?" continued thad, presently. "it mout be a matter o' two mile er so," grunted jim; for they were pushing on at a lively pace, and there was not much breath to waste in long sentences. "that smoke keeps on getting heavier all the while," remarked thad. "she dew thet," admitted jim. "and my stars, how it stings a fellow's eyes," continued the scoutmaster, who from time to time felt the tears running down his cheeks. jim shook his head as he answered: "'tain't a circumstance tew what we'll run up aginst right soon, ef things keeps on a gettin' wusser all ther while." "look! there goes a moose, upon my word; and he's making tracks as if he didn't fear human beings one half as much as he did that crackling fire he left behind!" thad cried out, about five minutes later. shortly afterwards he discovered a huge lumbering animal rushing through the woods to one side of them. "why, isn't that a black bear, jim?" he asked, pointing as he spoke. "it sure is," replied the guide, grinning; "an' 'baout as skeered a black as ye cud see in a week o' sundays. like as not he smelled ther smoke while he was boxed up in sum holler tree, whar he 'spected tew stay till spring kim along. but say, he knowed what'd happen tew him; an' forgettin' as haow he orter be sleepin' ther winter aout, alivin' on his fat, he jest climbs aout, an' scoots fur sum hole in ther ground he knows is awaitin' fur him. he'll git thar, awl rite, too; 'cause i never seed a bar cort in a forest fire, an' burned tew a crisp." "the deer can easily escape, i suppose, being so fleet of foot?" thad went on. "gin'rally speakin' they kin," jim replied; "an' thar goes wun rite naow. look at ther way he jumps over thet fallen tree like it was nawthin'. ef yeou an' me hed ther gift o' leapin' like thet, thad, we cud larf at forest fires tew." they lapsed into silence again. the smoke began to enter their lungs when they talked too much, and half choked them. it was getting darker, thad saw; and looking up, he realized that clouds had covered the heavens; though at first he rather fancied this might be another strata of smoke further up. "oh! if that snow-storm jim believes is due would only hurry, and come along," he was saying to himself, "it might do some good in putting out this fire. while i'd like right well to see what it all looks like, still, as a fire warden, i ought to want it to be smothered as quick as possible. and between the two why, i'll just have to take what comes, and be thankful it's no worse." then he thought of the other scouts. were any of them in danger from the fire? he did not believe this could be the case, for, so far as he knew, there had been no plan on foot for a hunt that day, the boys being satisfied to hang around camp, and do things they had in mind. and as they were right on the edge of the lake, if the worst came, and fire happened to sweep down upon them, the tents could be thrown into the canoes, and all hands put out upon the surface of the lake where they would be safe. so thad, as the one in charge of the patrol in the absence of dr. philander hobbs, the regular authorized scoutmaster, made up his mind that he need not worry about his chums any more. indeed, as the situation grew worse and worse around himself and jim, it began to look as though he had need of all his anxiety in connection with his own condition. of course he relied entirely on jim. the guide had had long experience with the fires in the pines. he had served as one of the fire wardens, and so long as he was in charge of the expedition there was no need of thad trying to figure out any plan of campaign. had he been alone, or with some of his companions, thad would have striven to meet the necessities of the situation manfully, and done all in his power to outwit the flames. now he was in jim's charge, and depended on the astute maine guide to pilot him through. "i can hear the flames roaring, i think, jim!" the scout remarked, presently. "thet's rite," returned the other; and from his manner thad knew jim had known of the circumstance longer than he dreamed possible. "it lies over there on our right, don't it?" thad persisted in asking. "yep," the guide answered, shortly. gauging the direction of the wind, thad saw that they would in a measure be running a race with the fire, to see which could get to the cabin of old cale first. he knew jim was figuring things out closely. a mistake in calculations might cost them dear. even a change in wind, which was liable to occur at any time now, would bring them face to face with new difficulties, and make them grapple with problems of a serious character. thad asked no more questions, for he saw that jim did not want to have his mind distracted from his duty. he would do the right thing, of that the boy felt assured. one thing was plain enough, and this seemed apt to have more or less bearing on the final outcome of their race to the cabin. the wind was gradually increasing in force all the while. it had been gentle at first, but was now blowing at the rate of ten miles an hour, and thad could notice how rapidly even this was changing. should it reach hurricane force ere long, the fire must be driven ahead at a speed that would be simply frightful. thad already began to experience some of the thrill he had been told was connected with one of these woods' fires; even though as yet he had to see the first flash of flame. what must it be when surrounded on all sides by the leaping tongues that, they said, looked like great red snakes coiling up the pine trees, licking the resinous foliage with greedy breath, so that it seemed as though the whole world must be ablaze? well, the boy had wanted to look upon just such a sight, so that he could say he had been caught in a forest fire; and from the way things were turning out, his wish was in a fair way to be gratified. they must surely have come about a mile since he last asked jim how far away the cabin might be; that would indicate half of the distance had been passed over. he wondered why jim did not start running, so as to beat the fire, that was apparently aiming for the same place; but on second thought thad believed he could guess the reason for this. jim was saving their wind for an emergency. if that came upon them, they might have to change their own course, and head for the pond jim had spoken of as offering a fair haven of refuge in a case of this kind. the roaring sound had grown more audible. it sounded now very much like a freight train on the railroad, thad thought; and drawing closer all the while! this would seem to indicate that the fire was catching up with them, and shortening the gap between at the same time. thad began to cast curious glances in the direction of the ominous sound; nor could it be said that anxiety was not unmixed with his other feelings. he was but a boy, after all; and even by now the dark masses of smoke that were sweeping over the pine tops, as well as the other indications of a great conflagration around him, had begun to affect thad. and as they pushed along it chanced that they came to a little break in the wall of pines that rose around them. for the first time the boy scout saw, when he turned his head toward the right, and the rear, something that seemed to leap madly upwards, as though endeavoring to lick the overhanging clouds. there was no need of thad to ask the guide what that was, for he knew only too well. those leaping, tossing billows were flames; and they sealed the death warrant of many a noble pine that for years and years had seen the lovely summer come and go, to give place to the furious gales of the maine winter season. and thad brewster experienced a real genuine thrill, that might be tinged with alarm, as he viewed this fiery panorama over the tops of the trees. chapter xxvi. trusting to the woods' pilot. it was by this time getting about as exciting as anything thad had ever dreamed of. the noise made by the sweeping flames began to din in his ears as he had never expected to hear the roar of fire. still, he noticed that jim had not changed his course much. plainly then, he was heading for the cabin of cale martin, and had not yet given up hopes of being able to make it. only for the intense desire of the guide to please his lina, doubtless he would ere now have changed his flight, and headed for that pond, where they could be certain of finding security. thad only hoped jim would not be tempted to take too many chances, in his endeavor to accomplish the reconciliation. so the boy began to strain his eyes, looking ahead, hoping that any minute they would sight the lonely home of the late poacher, who had turned fox farmer. the fire could now be seen more plainly than ever, and thad noted how the wind seemed to carry all manner of whirling sparks far ahead, to set the dead pine needles ablaze in turn; so that there was an ever marching procession, as fresh patches of woods fell into the grip of the flames. something went squealing past them, almost upsetting thad. "good gracious, wasn't that a pig?" he exclaimed, startled by the sight. jim nodded his head, as he replied: "cale's pig. let's 'em hev ther run o' ther woods sumtimes. but he'll never see that porker agin. it'll sure be roasted ter a turn, i guess naow." "what next, i wonder?" thought thad, as he heard, rather than saw, several frightened partridges go sweeping past. all these things served to add a certain element of spice to the situation, although thad really believed it hardly needed anything to make it seem the most exciting in all his experience. well, at any rate, jim had certainly thought it wise to increase his speed now, so that he was running fairly fast, considering the difficulties that lay in the way of making good time. when thad came upon a broken-down rail fence, he knew they must be close in the neighborhood of the cabin; and at the same time he thought that it was well this was the case, because contact with the fire could not long have been delayed. a minute later, and he sighted the side of the cabin. as jim had said, it stood in comparatively open ground; but the brush had grown up again, owing to lack of care when the owner lost interest in the home that no longer knew the presence of little lina. a couple of low sheds could also be seen near by; but even to thad's uneducated eye it was plainly apparent that if the fire worked this way, everything was bound to go. cale martin may have escaped by reason of his energy before, on other occasions, but this would wind his place up. there was no sign of any human being around. jim seemed to look to the right and to the left with more or less eagerness. plainly he was disappointed because he did not see the giant poacher somewhere. he hurried over to one of the low sheds, and as thad followed close after him, he saw that there was an enclosure made of chicken wire, in which several red foxes were running furiously back and forth, as though conscious of their peril, and wild to get out and escape. "he cain't be here!" jim called out, for the fire was really so noisy now that it required more or less of an effort to make one's self heard. "why not?" asked thad. "'cause he'd never let them foxes stay in thar. cale, he's human, ef he used ter be a hard case; an' knowin' ther fire'd like as not git 'em if they stayed cooped up, he'd sure broke the wire fence daown so's ter let 'em run." saying which jim deliberately did this himself, tearing up a stake, and in almost the twinkling of an eye making a big hole, through which the four red foxes shot like lightning. the last seen of them, the shrewd little animals were flying away into the woods that as yet had not felt the scorching breath of the fire. "will they escape, jim?" asked thad, unable to repress his desire for knowledge, even while facing such a scene of havoc as this. "sure they will," grunted the guide, who was already turning hastily in the direction of the cabin. the thought struck thad just then that perhaps something had happened to the big owner of the place. he might be found there, sick, and unable to move hand or foot. in that case a new problem would have to be faced, and a solution worked out. but no matter what happened, they could not remain here long. the fire was edging around, and working in toward cale's cabin. in ten minutes, perhaps not so long a time as that, it would have swept over this territory, and gone roaring and leaping into the woods beyond. now they were at the door of the cabin. it was shut, and there was no evidence that cale was within. jim did not hesitate a second. he knew this was a time for action rather than thinking; and so he immediately started to push open the door. fortunately this did not seem to be fastened in any way, so the guide had no trouble to speak of in doing what he desired. then jim rushed inside, and thad followed closely after him. one glance around seemed to tell them that the cabin was empty. it was a cheerless looking place, according to the mind of the boy, accustomed as he was to the comforts of a good home in a civilized community. but no doubt it had been "home" to cale martin, up to the time the light of it was taken away by young jim hasty. the guide pointed to a small photograph that was fastened to the wall. it was not a work of art by any means, and evidently represented the labor of some aspiring village photographer; but as thad bent hastily over to examine it, in a couple of seconds, he saw that it was the face of a very sweet looking girl. and he did not need to be told that he was looking on the face of little lina, jim's wife, and the only child of the lonely poacher, old cale martin. "he isn't here, jim. what will we do now? do you have any idea where he's gone?" the boy demanded, in his excitement clutching at the sleeve of the guide's coat. "i kin give a guess, 'baout it," replied jim. "seems like he keeps a litter o' foxes sumwhar off in ther woods; an' chances air the ole man, he's risked his life tew git out thar, an' set 'em free so's they cud 'scape. 'twud be jest like him tew dew thet same thing." "hark! i thought i heard a shout!" exclaimed thad. both of them listened anxiously; jim even hurrying toward the open door; but before he could reach it, a huge form darkened the opening, and a man came staggering in. thad knew that he was looking upon cale martin, long feared by every man in the pine woods of northern maine. but to tell the truth he did not look very formidable now; for his beard was singed, his face blackened, and his clothes smouldering in patches, as though he might have been compelled to run the gauntlet of fire in returning from his self-imposed errand of mercy in connection with the impounded fox whelps. he stared hard at them as though he could not just believe his senses. thad saw he was very nearly overcome with the smoke that had entered his lungs, as well as the burns he must have received. and just then the boy realized something of the real horror of a terrible forest fire. at a distance it might seem a glorious spectacle; but close at hand its dreadful nature was revealed. jim knew that this was neither the time nor place to waste a second in trying to enter into explanations. those could all keep until a more convenient season. cale martin was all but played out. he swayed as he stood there, and thad could see that the wonderful strength that had many years before made him the marvel of the lumbering camps, as jim had told him, was very nearly utterly exhausted. and yet so great a hold had his dislike for jim hasty taken upon his nature, that at sight of the man in his home he frowned blackly. "we gotter mosey outen this right smart, cale," said jim, boldly. "keep ther talkin' till we is safe from ther fire. plenty o' time then tew tell me what yew wants tew say. i kim hyar tew see yew 'cause lina, she made me. naow, let's be headin' fur ther pond, 'less we wants tew be roasted an' stewed an' b'iled." the giant did not seem inclined to make the first move to save himself; and it burst upon thad's mind that he was really in some sort of a daze. perhaps the heat of the fire had affected his head, and he could not gather his wits. he may have headed straight back to the cabin, through the border of the fire, simply because of that intuition which will carry a man, walking in his sleep, past dangers and difficulties. jim must have guessed something of the same thing. that would account for his daring to leap forward, and catch hold of cale's sleeve, though he had to beat out a small conflagration at the same time. "help me get him away!" jim did not say this, but his look did, as he turned toward thad; and the boy instantly sprang forward to take hold of cale's other arm. the giant, strangely enough, did not seem to offer any objection. perhaps he realized that he was in a bad way, and that if left to his own devices must surely perish there. and life may even have been sweet enough to accept it at the hands of the man whom he believed had so terribly wronged him in stealing away his girl. the instant they stepped out of the cabin thad was appalled at the change that had taken place. surely they could not have been inside for more than three minutes at the most; and yet so rapidly had the smoke and fire headed in toward the cabin of old cale that it was a fearful spectacle which burst upon their vision now. the crackling of the flames, the crash of falling trees, the howl of the wind,--all these made a combination that was deafening. added to it was the fierce glow of the fire itself, rising and falling as new patches of woods fell into its never satisfied maw. thad began to wonder how it would all end, and whether that wish of his to look on a real forest fire was not going to end in a tragedy. but he shut his teeth hard together, and determined to play his part, as a true scout should. jim was still there, and jim would know what to do. the fire warden of the past had learned many ways of outwitting the red-tongued enemy; and there was hope of escape so long as he could remain on deck. and so thad drew in a long breath, half choked as he was, and waited to see what course the woods' pilot would take. chapter xxvii. jim delivers his message. "can we make the pond, jim?" asked thad. he knew from what little the guide had said before, that it was a considerable distance to the body of water to which jim had intended heading; and with the almost exhausted giant on their hands, it did not not seem likely they could get there before being overtaken by the flames. "not ther big pond," jim called back; "it's tew late naow fur thet; but they's a littler un 'baout half way. thet'll hev tew dew fur us, i guess." cale seemed able to walk, after being thus supported, and they started off. one thing thad noticed; and this gave him more or less satisfaction. they were heading now directly away from the fire, and not keeping alongside, as before. this gave them a new chance to escape, unless that change of wind came, which was liable to occur at any moment. hardly had they been moving for a minute than thad thought he felt something wet fall on his nose. he could hardly believe it, but when a second and a third followed, he became positive. "it's raining, jim!" he shouted, partly because of his new excitement, and also on account of the racket the fire caused. "thet snow storm's gut 'raound et larst," called back jim; and thad knew from that the heat of the atmosphere had melted the flakes ere they fell, causing them to turn back into water. it was all the same though, since both were bitter enemies to fire; and presently the merry war of the elements, that has gone on since the world began, would be in full play. he wished that it would come down as never before; indeed, it would need to be a record fall, to extinguish those monster flames that were rising like a red wall over the treetops now. but since the woods beyond would be undergoing a gradual soaking, possibly the fire might find it more and more difficult to get a foothold, and finally die out from lack of fuel. thad was astonished at the meekness of the giant. why, he seemed to have lost his grip on things, and let them carry him along just as though he were a big baby. that would seem to indicate he must have been severely hurt while escaping from the burning forest. for aught they knew he may have been struck on the head by a falling limb from a tree, which would account for his dazed condition. at any rate, it was fortunate for the entire party that this proved to be so; because any delay at this stage of the game must have proven fatal. all of them were panting, but it was more from the intense heat than weariness. thad hoped the pond would show up soon. he was half choked with the smoke, and coughed with nearly every breath. a drink of cool refreshing water, he believed, would make him feel a thousand per cent better. there could no longer be any doubt about the anticipated change in the wind having taken place; for the fire was certainly coming after them, full tilt. jim, too, was beginning to cast glances over his shoulder; and when a runner does this thad knew it was a good sign that he is anxious about something. it may be the presence of a rival sprinter back of him; in this case that racer was the fire. "will we make it, jim?" thad found himself just forced to ask, in order to relieve the terrible sensation of suspense that gripped him. "dead sartin!" came the reassuring reply; "thar she be, right naow!" and looking ahead thad saw the sheen of a body of water in the dull glow of the forest fire. it was not a large pond, but would offer them an asylum, where in all possibility they might laugh at the efforts of the fire to get them. when they gained the shore jim kept pushing on until a point had been reached that was opposite to the course over which they had just come. this threw the water of the little pond between them and the source of danger. thad drew a long breath of relief as he realized that their race with the flames was over, and safety assured. the giant sank down upon the ground, and scooping up the water in the cup of his hand, drank savagely, showing that he must be almost parched with thirst. feeling a little the same way himself, thad followed suit; and never in all his life had water tasted as refreshing as then. after that, he just stood and watched the terrible panorama that was being gradually unfolded before his eyes; listening to the roar of the devouring element as it seized whole rows of pines in its grip, and enveloped them with a mantle of flames. thad was fairly awed by the sight. he had never dreamed it could be so terrible, even when his imagination played at its liveliest clip. he saw the leaping billows toss higher and higher; he watched them play tag with one another; and all the while realized what havoc was being made with that splendid forest. when the fire had passed on, or been finally extinguished by the downpour from above, it would leave blackened and smouldering trunks where just a brief while before the glorious pines stood in all their robes of green. the heat was rather fierce, too, and often they would bend forward to lave their faces in the cooling waters of the pond. long since had the rim of ice around the edge of the pool vanished, as though by magic; this was on account of the warmth that had taken possession of the atmosphere while the conflagration lasted. but thad was satisfied that they were going to escape, for the main body of fire had already gone rushing away before the wind. only straggling trailers worked in behind the pond, and they were already feeling the effect of the rain that was now falling heavily, though at other places it must have taken the form of snow. jim was apparently more or less anxious about cale. he feared the old man might have received serious injuries that needed attention; and taking advantage of the first opportunity that presented itself, he confided his fears to thad, knowing full well that the boy was something of a doctor, in his way. so the scoutmaster sat down beside cale. he saw that the other was getting back to something like his normal self, now that he had in a measure recovered from the exhaustion resulting from his fight for life with the flames. "did you get badly hurt anywhere, in the fire?" thad asked, trying to put on a professional look, so as to inspire some confidence in the old man. the giant for the first time, seemed to wake up. he felt of his head, and winced a little as though it pained him. "ther burns they don't amount ter much," he said, in his heavy voice; "but thar be a bad bump on my head as hurts sum." "let me look at it," asked the boy. "i've picked up some knowledge of medicine, and perhaps i can do something to make it seem better; if nothing else, cold water may reduce the feverish feeling some." and cale allowed him to examine his big head, with its mass of hair that was like a lion's mane in thickness, having been protected from the fire by the skin cap he wore. perhaps it was the presence of that same cap, as also the shock of hair, that had saved cale from having a broken skull; he certainly did have a lump there as large as an egg, that must have been very painful; and it was no wonder he had seemed dazed at the time he rushed into his cabin, hardly knowing why he came there, unless he had been laboring under the impression that little lina was still waiting to be saved from the fire. fortunately thad happened to be carrying a little bottle of witch hazel in his haversack, which he often found exceedingly useful. this he got out, and after warning the other that it might sting a little at first, he poured some of the extract on the lump; and then wetting a piece of rag with it, he laid this over the wound, cale's cap holding it in place. "that's all i can do for you," thad said. "but it's not a serious thing, and in a few days you'll be all over it. but you must have had a fearful knock. was it a limb that fell on you?" "just what it war, younker," replied cale; "an' it's a feelin' better some, already." thad moved back. he seemed to know that jim was just itching to have a few words with his father-in-law; and that the opportunity seemed ripe. besides, thad was more or less curious to know just what that clinching argument might be, which jim meant to advance, and which he seemed so positive would bring the determined old man around. when jim took his place, cale gave him one look, and then turned his head away. "i wisht yew wudn't feel like yew does agin me, dad martin," jim started to say. "stop right thar!" burst out the other, as his old temper began to sway him again. "i don't want anything ter do wid yer, jim hasty. time was when i vowed ter pin yer ears ter a tree, if ever ye showed up hyar agin; an' i meant it, i shore did. then sumhow, thinkin' o' that leetle gal, an' how she sot sum store by ye, kinder flabbergasted me, an' i dassent stay around whar ye was, lest i do all i'd threatened, an' it'd break her heart. so i kim hyar ter my lonely home, thet ain't hed a single ray o' sunshine in it sense ye stole her away. but i don't forgit it, jim hasty, an' i ain't never agoin' ter forgive ye, er make up. so don't waste yer breath atryin'." but when thad saw the grin on jim's face he knew the guide felt encouraged. his reception had been far less stormy than he had had reason to expect from all he knew of the violent temper of his respected father-in-law. and knowing that jim was getting ready to spring his surprise, thad almost held his breath while listening and watching. "i tole yeou i kim here 'cause she sent me," jim went on, in a pleading tone. "it grieved her gentle heart all this while 'cause she cudn't see yeou, dad martin. she sez as haow it's jest gut tew stop! she wants yeou, and wants yeou bad. an' so be they's another as ort tew see yeou. here's ther message little lina sends tew yeou by me, her husband. sez she, 'take this tew him, an' when he sees the face o' my baby and knows thet we calls him leetle caleb, p'raps then he'll forgive yeou, jim, fur takin' me away; an' come back tew us all. tell him we want him the wust kind, leetle caleb an' lina!'" he had thrust something into the hand of the old poacher as he spoke. thad felt almost like giving vent into his overwrought feelings in a yell. why, all the excitement attending the race with the forest fire had not been a circumstance to the thrill that swept over him when he saw that hard-hearted old man staring at the pictured faces of mother and child on that bit of cardboard, and then, filled with a return of the old love, pressing it wildly to his bearded lips. and thad knew, just as jim had said, that the message which lina had sent in the form of her baby's picture, had broken down the barrier of the old man's pride and obstinacy; for in another moment he was squeezing jim's hand convulsively. chapter xxviii. "home, sweet home!" "yes, i'll go home with yer, jim! i shore i'm sick fur a sight o' my leetle gal. lina's baby too--i'd be ther biggest fool in all maine, not ter give in, arter yer kim up hyar, riskin' yer ears ter tell me _thet_! we'll jest try an' furgit what's gone by, jim, an' start fresh. an' yer kin help me raise my foxes fur ther company thet's hired me fur five years ter run ther farm." that was what old cale was saying as he pumped the hand of the delighted and grinning jim. and thad was glad he was there to witness this joyous reconciliation. the fire had passed, and left them safe. jim, when he could do so, made his way back to the cabin; and on his return announced that it was only a blackened ruin. whereupon old cale sighed, and then seemed to look forward to a new home, in which there would be an abundance of sunshine, because little lina, and caleb, the boy who was named after him, would reign there. they managed to spend the night somehow, and in the morning started back to the camp on the border of the lake; though after leaving the region where the fire had swept, they found the snow quite deep, and the going bad. but apparently the coming of the storm had extinguished the last lingering flames, so that the saving to the state of maine was beyond computation. arriving at the camp, thad found the boys getting uneasy about him, and eli about to start out to see if he could get trace of the absent ones. they understood that the distant fire, which had not come near them, must have been in the neighborhood of old cale's cabin, as described by jim; and it was this that made them worry. but it was all right now, and they received the wanderers with hearty shouts. the story, upon being told by thad, evoked renewed cheering, especially for the old poacher who had reformed, and was now going to show what he could do in a line that appealed to him especially, since he knew all about the woods' animals. just as thad had said while cale was feeling his burns, and the bump on his head, he declared that nothing serious was the matter with him; and that even if there had been, the glorious news that jim had brought, at such risk to himself, would have cured him effectually. "well," said giraffe, as they gathered around the supper that evening; "this is our last camp in maine, seems like; for to-morrow thad says we start for the railroad station at eagle lake, through lake winthrop; and soon we'll be booming along for home." "that sounds good to me, fellers," spoke up bumpus. "always did like my home pretty well, and it never seems half so nice as when you're away, trying to make out you're having a bunkum time sleeping on the hard ground, with roots diggin' holes in your sides; and all sorts of creepers crawlin' over your face. home, sweet, sweet home for me, just now!" "but just remember that you owe us all a treat, bumpus," spoke up davy jones. "yes, we know giraffe can make a fire that way now, because he showed us yesterday, as easy as anything; but when i tried it, never a spark could i get," and step hen looked disgusted because of his lack of knowledge. "huh! you needn't feel bad," declared giraffe. "if it took _me_ all that time to get on to the proper wrinkle, and me a regular fire fiend, how could you have the nerve to think you could hit her up the very first thing? but bumpus ain't never going to question that i won that wager, fair and square. only because if i hadn't, we'd a gone without a supper that night, and been near frozen in the bargain. lots of things hinged on that fire, i'm telling you, fellers." "i should say they did," observed bumpus, frankly. "why, on'y for its cheery twinkle them two poachers, si and ed, wouldn't have known we were around; and you see how we'd have missed doin' that great stunt which will go down in the history of the silver fox patrol as one of the shining examples----" "oh! let up on that stuff, bumpus, and help me to some more stew," giraffe broke in, as he passed his platter along. "well," remarked allan, "we've had a pretty good time of it up here, all told, counting the two separate trips we took. and it'll be a long time before we beat the record for big game we've made in maine." but allan did not know what was before the silver fox patrol before many moons had passed, or he would not have uttered this rash prediction. when the summer holidays came along, they had another long journey in prospect, provided the money was received from the bank, that had been offered for the restoration of the securities carried off by the bold yeggmen captured by the scouts, and as related in the preceding volume of this series. this trip would take them many hundreds of miles from home, into a country toward which a number of the boys had long looked with yearning eyes. and that thad and his chums were fated to meet with new and thrilling adventures that really exceeded any they had encountered before, the reader will doubtless admit if he but secures the succeeding volume to the present story, and which has been issued under the name of "the boy scouts through the big timber; or, the search for the lost tenderfoot." there is not a great deal more to add. jim must have managed to send some sort of message home, for at a certain station further down the road, (after the boats had been shipped through as freight, the two guides and old cale accompanying the scouts on the regular train,) jim said they would have to spend half an hour there, and that they might as well get out to stretch. and lo and behold, there came a girlish cry, and they saw a small figure flying straight toward old cale, bearing a small bundle, which she immediately pressed into the clumsy arms of the giant, who immediately wrapped mother and baby in a warm embrace. of course it was little lina, and caleb jr.; and the boys all had to be introduced to jim's wife. they parted from them there; but upon arriving home, one of the first things thad and his chums did was to subscribe a round sum apiece, and send up the nicest baby's crib they could find in cranford; for somehow they felt a personal interest in little caleb. giraffe was feeling very proud those days. he had accomplished what looked like the impossible when he finally managed to make his "silly fire bow" work, and saved himself and bumpus from going hungry and cold that night they were adrift in the maine pine woods. indeed, all of the boys had considerable to be proud of; and from that day until school finally began, after the trustees had declared the quarantine broken, each member of the silver fox patrol was always the center of an admiring crowd of listeners whenever he went abroad. and the consequence was that a new patrol was quickly organized, eight fellows subscribing to the rules and regulations of the organization of boy scouts, and being mustered in during the winter as the eagle patrol of the cranford troop. "that's one of the best things that came out of our maine trip," said thad to his chum allan, as they were on the way home from the meeting when those eight new members had been sworn in, and promised to live up to the rules laid down for the guidance of all scouts by the heads of the organization. "well," replied the other, "i was looking back the other day, at the diary i kept while we were gone; and i find that a heap of things came out of that same hunt up among the pines of maine. all of us felt better for the outing; more than one learned a lesson in perseverance that will follow him all his life; we did a good thing in capturing those hobo thieves, charley barnes and his crowd; then we made something of a record in hunting, you with your first moose, and bumpus with that honey thief of a black bear; after that we helped wind up the poaching careers of si kedge and ed harkness; and last but not least, had a hand in bringing about that splendid family reunion that we saw on the platform, when we stepped off the train. on the whole, thad, all of us ought to be mighty well satisfied with the way things have gone. i know i am." "and you can say the same for me," added the young scoutmaster. "but after all is said, i think the most wonderful thing to happen was how giraffe, after missing fire a dozen times with his little bow and stick, should strike it _just right_ when it meant so much for him and bumpus. and then bumpus paid for that treat like a little man, saying it was worth it, ten times over, just to hear giraffe _yell_ when he'd succeeded in making his tinder flame up without using a single match." and here we will leave the boys of the silver fox patrol, to take up their further adventures in the succeeding volume. the end [frontispiece: it was chippy. _page_ .] the wolf patrol a tale of baden powell's boy scouts _by_ john finnemore _author of_ "jack haydon's quest," "two boys in war-time," etc. a. & c. black, ltd. , , and , soho square london, w. _first published october_ , _reprinted_ , , , _and_ _this edition published in_ ; _reprinted in_ , _printed in great britain by_ warrillows ltd., printers, birmingham and london. dedicated (by special permission) to lieut.-general r. s. s. baden-powell, c.b. the founder of the admirable movement on which this story is based preface no movement of recent years has so swiftly and so completely won the love of boys as the boy-scout movement founded by lieutenant-general baden-powell. it has done so because it touches at once both heart and imagination. in its dress, its drill, its games, its objects, it jumps perfectly with the feelings of the boy who adores robinson crusoe, chingachcook the last of the mohicans, jim hawkins, who sailed to treasure island, buccaneers, trappers of the backwoods, and all who sit about camp fires in lonely places of the earth. it is a movement which aims at making all boys brothers and friends, and its end is good citizenship; it is a foe to none save the snob, the sneak, and the toady. amid the general chorus of congratulation on the success of the movement, only one dissentient whisper has been heard, and that has gathered about the word 'militarism.' but the boy-scout movement is no friend of militarism in any shape or form, and the murmur is only heard on the lips of people who have never looked into the matter, and never read the scout law. the movement is a peace movement pure and simple, and its only object is to make a boy hardy and strong, honest and brave, a better man, and a better citizen of a great empire. of this story it is perhaps permissible to say that it has been read by general baden-powell, who has been so kind as to express his warm approval. writing to the author, the founder of the movement says: 'wishing you all success for this so excellent a work.' the scout law* i. a scout's honour is to be trusted. ii. a scout is loyal to the king, and to his officers, and to his country, and to his employers. iii. a scout's duty is to be useful and to help others. he must do a good turn to somebody every day. iv. a scout is a friend to all, and a brother to every other scout, no matter to what social class the other belongs. v. a scout is courteous, and he must not take any reward for being helpful and courteous. vi. a scout is a friend to animals. vii. a scout obeys orders of his patrol-leader or scout-master without question. viii. a scout smiles and whistles under all circumstances. when he gets an order he should obey it cheerily and readily, not in a slow, hang-dog sort of way. ix. a scout is thrifty--that is, he saves every penny he can, and puts it into the bank, so that he may have money to keep himself when out of work, and thus not make himself a burden to others, or that he may have money to give away to others when they need it. *quoted by kind permission of general baden-powell from 'scouting for boys.' contents chapter i. the 'slug' ii. the founding of the wolf patrol iii. chippy hears of new things iv. the new scout v. the choking-off of chippy vi. chippy chops them up vii. the patrol decides viii. the patrol leaders ix. the wolves and the ravens x. the patrol's surprise--a thief xi. chippy meets a stranger xii. dick and chippy meet a sergeant--the queer trail--a strange discovery xiii. albert, who wasn't albert xiv. chippy and the spy xv. flight xvi. the spy is seized xvii. hoppity jack's stall xviii. chippy's bad time xix. a brother scout to the rescue xx. the opinions of an instructor xxi. chippy goes on scout duty xxii. chippy goes in chase xxiii. the old water-gate xxiv. on board the 'three spires' xxv. a narrow shave xxvi. chippy makes his report xxvii. dick's great plan xxviii. the scouts march forth xxix. winning a supper xxx. the first camp xxxi. the big trout xxxii. terrors of the night xxxiii. the march resumed xxxiv. scouts to the rescue xxxv. a brother scout--the two tramps xxxvi. checkmate xxxvii. at newminster xxxviii. homeward bound----a dish of eels xxxix. the storm--what happened while they dried their clothes xl. the scouts' second camp xli. the poachers xlii. dragging the pool--a little surprise xliii. the broken bicycle xliv. the brother scout xlv. at the hardys' farm xlvi. dick's accident xlvii. the last camp xlviii. in the rain xlix. digging a well l. the old higgler li. the welcome home the wolf patrol chapter i the 'slug' 'now for the quay flat!' said arthur graydon. 'i say, dick elliott, you cut ahead, and see if that crew out of skinner's hole are anywhere about! you other fellows, get some stones and keep 'em handy!' a dozen day-boys from bardon grammar school were going home one saturday midday after morning school. all of them lived in a suburb which lay beyond the shipping quarter of the river-port of bardon, and their way to and from school ran across a wide open space beside the river known as quay flat. below quay flat, and packed closely along the edge of the river, was a huddle of small houses and cottages, where lived the poorer sort of riverside workers, a squalid, dirty region known as skinner's hole. it was so called because it lay very low, and because hides from abroad were landed there, and dealt with by three or four large tanneries. between the grammar school boys who crossed quay flat and the boys of skinner's hole there was a constant feud. at times this bickering took the form of pitched battles fought out with sticks and stones. the boys of bardon always called these encounters 'slugs,' and, if the truth be told, they were, one and all, very fond of a 'slug.' to carefully search the hedges for a handy stick, and then cut a ferocious knob out of the root end with your pocket-knife; above all, to cast leaden bullets and march forth with them and a catapult--these things were dear to the heart of a bardon boy. there were now threats of another 'slug' in the air, and the boys who had to cross quay flat had gathered to march home in a body. at the head of a lane running down to the open space, they had paused to make preparations for any enemy that might lie in their path, and dick elliott, as we have seen, was despatched ahead as a scout, to report signs of danger. but there was already a scout at work on behalf of the enemy. half-way down the lane a narrow alley ran in from the riverside, and in this alley one of the 'wharf-rats,' as the schoolboys called the lads of skinner's hole, was on the watch. the wharf-rat was a short, skinny boy, very ragged and tattered, whom his friends called chippy; and he was their captain and leader. at the corner of the alley was a small greengrocer's shop, and chippy, lying flat along the stones on his stomach, had thrust his head round a box full of onions which had been set outside the door. from this cover he was keeping watch for the foe. he saw them come into sight, saw them pause, and knew that they scented trouble ahead; for they began to search about for loose stones, and to kick shaky ones out of the road. then he saw dick elliott sent ahead to reconnoitre. chippy looked over his shoulder, and measured the distance he would have to run down the alley before he could find cover. no go. if he ran, the scout of the other side would see him scuttling, and suspect something. besides, chippy was well known. he was a famous leader in this kind of warfare. so he curled himself up as round as a hedgehog, and lay hidden behind the box, with his eye at a crack. he gave a little grunt to himself as he saw dick elliott look carefully along the alley before he went on down the lane. chippy was glad he hadn't run; he would certainly have been seen. but as soon as dick had passed, he was up and away down the alley at full speed. he made a couple of turns along side-streets, and then quay flat lay before him. he put his fingers into his mouth and gave a long, shrill whistle. there was no answer, but chippy was quite satisfied. he knew that his warriors would understand. from another carefully chosen spot he watched dick elliott come out on quay flat and look all about. but the braves of skinner's hole had caught their chief's whistle, and were lying hidden among piles of old cordage and rusty anchors which were heaped in one corner of the flat. dick ran back up the lane. 'i can't see anyone about,' he reported. 'the flat looks as quiet as can be.' 'come on!' said arthur graydon to the other boys. 'keep together; and if the wharf-rats come out, we'll give 'em beans!' the band of grammar school boys gained the flat, and struck out for the bridge which crossed the river and led to the suburb in which lay their homes. all went quietly till they were well out in the open space, and then the wharf-rats set up a tremendous yell and darted from their ambush. a furious battle was started at once on the flat. stones flew like hail on both sides, and then the combatants came to close quarters, and the fray developed into a series of stand-up fights, with every boy yelling like mad. 'slug 'em! slug 'em, skinner's 'ole!' howled the wharf-rats. 'out 'em! down 'em, skinner's 'ole!' 'rally, school!' shouted dick elliott. 'drive 'em into the river!' bellowed arthur graydon. the latter was fighting with a couple of heavy books buckled tightly into a long, stout strap, and he fetched a couple of his opponents down with swinging blows. suddenly he was confronted with the rival chieftain, the redoubtable chippy. arthur swung his books at chippy's head, but the latter was far too quick for so slowly delivered a stroke, and was inside his opponent's guard in a flash. chippy's dirty fist was planted with stinging force in arthur's right eye, and arthur went over like a ninepin. at the next instant chippy and dick elliott were face to face, and chippy, who was very handy with his fists found, for the first time, a foeman to be reckoned with. they had a sharp rally; then they closed, and dick, who was a capital wrestler, threw his man with ease. down went chippy, and saw ten thousand and one stars, for the back of his head was brought up hard against the flags of the quay. but while he was all abroad, half a dozen of his followers swarmed over dick elliott, and made the latter prisoner. the rest of the grammar school boys had been driven off, but dick was a captive. 'we've copped one!' roared a big red-haired lad. 'i'll tell yer what we'll do wi' him. let's roll him i' the sludge!' his comrades shouted joyful assent, and dick, fighting like a tiger, but helpless in the hands of the wharf-rats, was dragged towards the river, where his captors intended to roll him in the deep mud left by the ebbing tide. the band, with their struggling victim in their midst, were close upon the river before chippy got to his feet, his head still singing from that shrewd crack. 'wot's the game?' said chippy in a husky whisper to himself. 'i see. i heerd carrots say it 'ud be a good game to roll one on 'em in the sludge. but that's seven on 'em to one. that ain't good enough!' and he began to hurry after them. 'wot cheer, mates!' he shouted in his hoarse tones. ''old 'ard a bit! lemme come up!' but the victorious band were deaf to the calls of their leader, and at this instant they disappeared at a point where a sloping wharf ran from the quay edge into the river. 'bring 'im along to the other end o' the wharf!' commanded the red-haired boy; 'then we'll chuck 'im bang into the mud, an' see 'im scrabble 'is way out!' 'lemme go, you fellows!' yelled dick, fighting with tooth and nail to wrench himself free; but there were too many for him, and chippy, who loved fair play, and practised it, was too far behind. but, luckily for dick, other help was at hand, or he would assuredly have been pitched straight into eighteen inches of foul black mud. a boat had been pulled from a ship in mid-stream to the wharf, and a tall gentleman landed from it as dick was dragged past the spot. 'what! you, dick?' shouted the new-comer. 'what does this mean?' and, followed by the boatman, he made a dash at the group. the wharf-rats threw down their captive and fled, and the gentleman picked dick up. 'thanks, uncle jim,' said dick, puffing like a grampus. 'if you hadn't lent a hand, those wharf-rats would have tipped me over into the mud.' 'how did you fall into their hands?' asked his uncle. 'they've been a-sluggin', i shouldn't wonder,' remarked the boatman. 'that was it,' said dick. 'there was a slug between our fellows and the wharf-rats out of skinner's hole, and they bagged me.' his uncle nodded. he had been a bardon boy in his time, and knew all about it. he paid the boatman, and away he and dick went together, for his house was in the same road as dick's home. 'they're a jolly sly lot, those wharf-rats,' said dick, as they walked along. 'our fellows sent me ahead as a scout, but i never saw a sign of them, and yet they were waiting for us on the flat all the time.' 'seems to me you weren't much of a success as a scout, dick,' said his uncle, smiling. 'you're right there, uncle jim,' replied dick, a broad grin on his honest, open face. 'i muffed it that time, and no mistake. hallo, here's the bobby!' the constable who had the quay beat came hurrying along, looking red and angry. 'you 'ain't seen any o' them young varmints wot have been a-sluggin', have ye, mr. elliott?' he cried to dick's uncle. 'yes; i've seen some of them, cooper, but i'm afraid they're out of your reach by now,' replied the latter. 'i just wish i could get hold of 'em,' cried the indignant constable. 'i'd give 'em what for. two windows 'ave they broke wi' their stones and their sluggin', an' one of 'em in the shop o' poor old mrs. dean. the old woman has hard enow work to make a livin' without rowdy young nippers a-smashin' her windows.' 'you're right, cooper,' agreed mr. elliott. 'but i'll put a stop to it,' said the constable. 'i'll be on the spot here at such times as them grammar school boys are crossin' the flat. then if any game gets started betwixt them and that lot out o' skinner's hole, i'll be ready for 'em.' mr. elliott and dick walked on, and the latter burst out impulsively: 'that's too bad, uncle, about the poor old woman. i'll send the hat round and make our fellows fork out, and we'll square it up to her for her broken window.' 'good idea, old chap!' said mr. elliott. 'here's half a crown for a start.' dick thanked his uncle, and pocketed the coin. 'well, we were talking about your scouting,' went on mr. elliott. 'oh!' grinned dick. 'don't rot me about that. i give it up. i missed my kick that time.' 'that's all right,' said his uncle; 'i don't want to poke fun at you. i was only going to suggest this. why don't you go in for real scouting? learn to play the game properly. it's a wonderful game if you tackle it seriously--splendid sport, and a thousand times more useful, and better fun, than this foolish slugging business.' 'some of the fellows at school have been talking about scouting,' said dick. 'they've got hold of baden-powell's book, and they were awfully interested when i told them that you were in mafeking with b.-p.' 'yes, and a fine tenderfoot i was at the start!' laughed his uncle. 'when b.-p. told the townsmen they'd got to lend a hand, i was like a good few more. i thought i'd pick up what was wanted in no time. but i found that a useful man in the firing-line isn't made in a hurry. what a time he had with some of us fellows, who scarcely knew which end of a rifle to put to the shoulder!' and mr. elliott chuckled at the recollection. 'have you read the first part of b.-p.'s book, dick?' he asked in a moment. 'no,' replied dick. 'i should like to uncommonly.' 'here's a copy,' said mr. elliott, drawing the small paper-covered volume from his pocket. 'i bought it in london yesterday. look it through, and if you and your chums like the idea of it, remember that i shall always be ready to lend you a hand if you wish to make a start.' chapter ii the founding of the wolf patrol on the next monday evening dick burst into his uncle's house like a whirlwind. mr. elliott was in his 'den,' reading the paper, and he looked up with a smile as the boy entered. 'oh, uncle,' cried out dick, 'can't we begin scouting at once? it's the jolliest thing i ever heard of, and all my chums think the same. we'd like to make up a patrol at once. and you said you'd lend us a hand, didn't you?' 'i did, dick,' said his uncle, laying aside his paper. 'when is your next half-holiday?' 'we get tuesdays, thursdays, and saturdays half-holidays in the week,' said dick. 'all right,' said his uncle. 'i'll give you thursday afternoons till you're on your own legs. bring your men up here on thursday afternoon at three.' at the time named eight boys turned up, each with an eager look on his face, and a copy of the first part of 'scouting for boys,' which he had thumbed from end to end. 'well, you're not scouts yet,' said mr. elliott to them, 'for you have to pass the tests, you know.' 'we've been at work on them already, uncle,' replied dick. 'we can most of us do the first test--the knot-tying--and the last three are easy enough.' 'very good,' said mr. elliott. 'then i'll try you here on tests , , and --the knots, the laws and signs of scouts, and the union jack test.' he took them in turn, and put everyone through his facings, and all came through in good shape. 'now for test ,' said mr. elliott--'to "track a deer's spoor, or describe a shop window." which will you have?' 'the spoor! the spoor!' cried the boys. 'then we'll go on to the heath,' said he. twenty minutes' walk brought them clear of the houses, and the road ran on through a great heath which stretched for several miles and was quite unenclosed. the party struck into a side-path, and soon gained a quiet spot. here mr. elliott produced a pair of tracking-irons, which the boys examined with the most eager interest, and prepared to test the band one after another. it was a capital place for the purpose, for clumps of gorse and holly were thickly scattered over the heath, affording excellent cover, and through these clumps the trainer would lay a track which each boy must follow for a quarter of a mile, and make the journey within fifteen minutes. five boys were successful, among these being arthur graydon and dick elliott. three boys failed, not because their eyesight was poorer than that of the rest, but simply because they were unobservant, and did not pick up the trail quickly at one or two points where mr. elliott laid little traps for them, for he did not believe in making the test too easy. 'well,' said dick's uncle, 'five of you rank as second-class scouts now, and can make a beginning with a patrol; the other three will qualify next time, i expect.' and he took the failures in hand and showed them where they had slipped up in tracking his spoor. mixed with instruction, he told them stories of the wonderful tracking he had seen performed in south africa by both white men and natives, and the afternoon passed all too quickly for the deeply interested boys. 'what shall we call our patrol?' asked george lee, one of the successful boys in passing the tests, as they walked home. 'i vote for wolf!' cried dick--'the wolf patrol! that sounds jolly, i think.' 'yes, we'll have that--the wolf,' said arthur graydon. 'we must wait a little,' said mr. elliott, 'and see if any other patrols have been formed in bardon. it won't do to clash, but i'll see about that.' mr. elliott made inquiries, and found that though there was some talk of forming patrols here and there, yet not one was actually in existence in the neighbourhood. so dick and his friends became st bardon troop, wolf patrol, and were very proud of that fact. the wolf patrol now turned to with a will to convert themselves from second-class scouts into first-class. arthur graydon was chosen patrol leader, and dick elliott was the corporal. whenever the wolves met each other they gave the scouts' salute with great care, the rank and file receiving the secret sign in half-salute, while arthur graydon, as patrol-leader, was greeted with the full salute. their pocket-money went like water for patrol flags, badges, crests, and tracking-irons, and every boy rigged himself up with khaki shorts and a khaki hat with broad brim, in proper scouts' style. above all, they practised without ceasing the wolf's howl, which was the secret call of their patrol. several of the wolf patrol lived quite near to each other, and at night they would go into their gardens, and scout would howl to scout in such mournful, long-drawn notes that peaceful, elderly gentlemen, reading the evening paper after dinner, rushed out to see if murder was being done somewhere. chapter iii chippy hears of new things one saturday afternoon chippy, the leader of the wharf-rats of skinner's hole, was crossing the heath on his way home. he had been with a message to a village some three miles from bardon, and was taking a short cut over the heath, which he knew from side to side and corner to corner. suddenly he stopped. he had heard a strange noise--a sound as of chanting or singing--and he wondered where it came from. in a moment he had fixed the place. 'that's in the old sand-'ole,' he muttered to himself, and he shuffled across the heath in his big, clumsy, hob-nailed boots towards the spot. in a couple of minutes he had wormed his way between two gorse-bushes growing at the edge of the deep hollow, and was looking with much interest at the sight beneath him. it was the wolf patrol practising the scouts' war-dance. the old deserted sandpit made a splendid place for their patrol meetings for open-air work. they had come there that afternoon for practice in test --fire-laying and lighting, and cooking flour and potatoes without utensils. but, first of all, they were practising the war-dance. the strange words of the scouts' song floated up to chippy's ears, but he could make nothing of them: 'ingonyama--gonyama invooboo yah bobo! yah bobo! invooboo. but though chippy did not understand the words, he understood that those fellows down there looked splendidly smart, and were having a fine time. he admired their uniform immensely; it looked so trim and neat compared with his own ragged garb. he admired their neat, quick movements as they stamped in unison with the words of the song, and moved round in a circle. the 'ingonyama' chorus ended, and then the fire practice began. chips and sticks were carefully piled, and a scout was allowed two matches to make a rousing fire of the gorse-stems and dried sticks to be found in the coppices on the heath. then he went to work with his flour and potatoes. finally the patrol organized a hunt to finish the afternoon. george lee was sent off on tracking-irons, and given ten minutes' start. when the time was up, the others went after him, and the sandpit was deserted. no one had observed chippy, for the latter was a scout without knowing it, and had kept himself carefully hidden. he didn't know they were boy scouts, and on their honour to treat him and everyone else fairly; he only knew them as 'chaps we've slugged with,' as he put it to himself. 'wot's the game, i wonder?' muttered chippy to himself, as the last scout vanished behind a hazel thicket. 'jolly good fun they're havin'. i should just like to know wot it all comes to.' he slid down the side of the sandpit to examine the place where the scouts had built their fires, and soon was on the road to find out what it all meant. his sharp eyes, running over every mark the boys had left, saw something white in a long tuft of dried grass. he pounced upon it and picked it up. it was a book with a picture on the cover. 'wot's this?' thought chippy. 'a kid watchin' a ship round a rock. wot for? "scouting for boys." wot's inside?' he opened it at page , and at once recognized the scouts' uniform. 'why, these chaps 'ad all got togs on like this,' said chippy to himself. 'i'll bet this book's all about the game.' he began to read, and was fascinated at once. chippy talked badly because he had been brought up among people who talked badly, but he could read as well as any grammar school boy, and had plenty of intelligence behind his freckled face to grasp what he read. he was deep in the little volume, when he heard the patter of running feet behind him. he turned, and saw dick elliott coming up to him. they knew each other at once. 'hallo!' said dick. 'it looks as if you'd found my book. i felt sure i had dropped it here.' 'yus, i found it,' replied chippy. 'it wor' in that 'ere patch o' stuff, an' i picked it up. i've bin a-lookin' at it.' 'that's all right,' said dick cheerfully. 'you won't hurt it.' chippy had rather expected that dick would take a scornful tone to him, as most of the grammar school boys did to the wharf-rats. he did not know that dick was in honour bound to obey scout law no. , and be courteous to all whom he met. but dick's friendly voice encouraged chippy to speak out something which he had on his mind. 'look 'ere,' said chippy, 'i ain't in wi' that crowd as tried to chuck yer into the mud t'other day. that ain't playin' the game.' 'well, you certainly didn't help 'em,' replied dick, with a merry grin. 'no,' agreed chippy. 'i was outed that time, proper. lor! my 'ead sung for 'alf a day! but it was carrots as put 'em up to that mud game, an' i've booted 'im out o' the crowd. as long as i'm a-runnin' the show, i'll slug wi' anybody ye like, but i'll slug fair. here's yer book.' there was a touch of reluctance in chippy's manner, which did not escape dick's quick eye. 'have you read some of it?' asked dick. 'yus; i read quite a bit,' replied chippy. 'how did you like it?' 'oh, it's pross!' returned chippy in his deepest, hoarsest note. 'all right,' laughed dick. 'take the book and keep it.' 'd'yer mean it?' cried chippy eagerly. 'of course i do,' answered dick. 'tuck it into your pocket. i can easily get another. well, i must be on, or i shall never catch our fellows up. good afternoon!' and away he went, leaving chippy to growl hearty thanks after him. chippy walked slowly home, his eyes glued to page after page. the little book went straight to chippy's heart. the wharf-rat felt all the delightful romance attached to being a boy scout as keenly as any member of the wolf patrol, and his mind was made up swiftly. 'this 'ere's a long sight ahead o' sluggin',' he reflected. 'it's chock-full o' good fun all the time. i'll turn my crowd into a patrol, blest if i don't!' he made a beginning that night. he begged a candle-end from his mother, and gathered his followers into a corner of an old deserted storehouse on the quay, and read and explained, and so filled them with his own enthusiasm that each was resolved to become a boy scout, or perish in the attempt. chapter iv the new scout three weeks later the wolf patrol, again on a saturday afternoon, were busy in their beloved headquarters. they had flattened out a tracking patch fifteen yards square. dick had brought his bicycle, and the wolves were studying walking, running, and cycling tracks across their patch, when they were joined by a stranger. the first to see the new-comer was billy seton; the rest were bending over the tracks which dick's bicycle had just made. the new-comer promptly gave billy the half-salute, and billy returned it, and put out his left hand, which the stranger shook in grave fashion. billy had done this because the new-comer made the secret sign which showed that he was a brother scout; but, at the same time, billy was full of astonishment at the odd figure before him. it was chippy, and chippy had been doing his best to provide himself with some sort of scout's rig, in the shape of shorts, hat, and boots. his shorts were rather on the queer side. he had only one pair of ragged trousers, and he did not dare to cut them down, or he would have had nothing for general wear, so he had obtained an old pair of corduroys from a bricklayer who lived next door. the bricklayer was a bird-fancier, and chippy had paid for the corduroys by fetching a big bag of nice sharp sand from the heath to strew on the floors of the cages. chippy was no tailor, so he had simply sawn off the legs to such a length as would clear his knees, and left it at that. the waist would have gone round him at least twice, so chippy laid it over in folds, and lashed all tight with a piece of tarry string. his hat was an old felt one of his mother's. it was the nearest thing he could rake up to a scout's broad brim, and he had hammered the edge with a big stone to make it lie flat; but it would curl up a little, and it looked almost as odd as the capacious trousers in which he was swallowed. his boots were borrowed from his mother also. his ordinary boots, heavy and clumsy, with hobnails as big as peanuts, seemed to him very ill-suited for the soft, swift, noiseless tread of a scout, so he had replaced them with an old pair of elastic-side boots intended for female wear. the elastics were clean gone, and his feet would have come out at every step had not, luckily, the tabs remained. these he had lashed together, fore and aft, round his ankle, for, being a riverside boy, he was very handy with string. the toes were the worst bother. his mother was a long-footed woman, and the toes of the boots sailed ahead of chippy's feet, and turned up, after the style of the boots of the middle ages, as depicted in history-books, and went flip-flop-flap before him as he walked. and so chippy had come to visit the wolf patrol as a friend and a brother. 'hallo! who's this?' cried arthur graydon, looking up from the tracking-patch. the others looked up, too, and some of the boys raised a great shout of laughter. 'what do you want here?' went on arthur, stepping forward, patrol flag in hand. the flag told chippy that he stood in presence of the patrol-leader, and he gave the full salute. but arthur did not return it. 'who are you?' demanded arthur. 'my name's slynn,' replied the other. 'they gen'ly call me chippy.' he announced himself in his usual husky notes. it seemed as if chippy was bothered with a perpetual cold, which had settled in his throat. perhaps it came from living in the continual damp of skinner's hole. 'and what do you want here?' went on arthur. 'i come over wi' a little challenge,' growled chippy. 'our patrol 'ud like to have a fren'ly try wi' yourn, at any sort o' scoutin' ye like.' 'patrol!' cried arthur in astonishment. 'what's a rum-looking beggar like you got to do with a patrol? what patrol?' 'raven patrol o' skinner's 'ole,' announced chippy. the wolves received this with a shout of laughter, but chippy remained as solemn as a judge. 'i like that,' said arthur. 'do you suppose anyone will take notice of a patrol you wharf-rats would set up? why, i know you now! you're the fellow that blacked my eye the other week, confound you! it's like your cheek to come here! you'd better clear out of this!' 'well,' replied chippy, 'wot if i did black yer eye? i did it fair and square. i stood straight up to yer. ye'd a-blacked mine if yer could! wot yer grousin' about?' 'oh, shut up and clear out!' said arthur impatiently. 'what's the use of coming here and talking about a patrol of wharf-rats? where's your patrol-leader?' ''ere 'e is!' and chippy tapped his breast. 'oh, you're patrol-leader, are you?' returned arthur 'where's your patrol-flag?' ''ain't got none!' replied chippy in laconic fashion. 'where's your badge?' ''ain't got none.' 'where's your shoulder knot?' ''ain't got none.' 'where's your lanyard and whistle?' ''ain't got none.' 'you're a fine lot to call yourselves the raven patrol!' cried arthur jeeringly. 'what have you got, i'd like to know?' chippy looked him straight in the eye. 'the mind to run straight an' play fair,' he said. ''ow's that for bein' good enough?' 'pooh!' said arthur. 'a patrol of scouts must be turned out properly. that's the first thing.' 'i dunno about that,' growled chippy, and drew a very dirty and well-thumbed book from the inner pocket of his ragged jacket. 'i bin a-goin' by what the cove says as writ this 'ere book--b.-p.' 'you can't teach me much about that book!' said arthur loftily. 'i know it from end to end.' 'well, i bin through it about ten times, i shouldn't wonder,' huskily murmured chippy, 'an' i've got it all wrong if 'e don't say as to run straight an' play fair is just about all there is to it.' chippy began to turn over the leaves, and there was silence for a moment. the patrol had left everything to their leader. no one else said a word. but dick elliott felt interested above all. he knew that this was his doing. it was he who had really started the raven patrol by giving the book to chippy slynn. the latter looked up quietly. he had found the place he wanted. 'i can't teach yer much out o' this 'ere book, eh?' he said. 'i can teach yer "scout law no. ."' and chippy read in a loud voice: '"a scout is a friend to all, and a brother to every other scout, no matter to which social class the other belongs."' 'wait a bit!' said arthur. 'you think you're very sharp, but how do i know you're a scout?' 'page forty-two,' said chippy, who certainly knew the text-book very thoroughly. 'see it? i gi'ed yer the signal.' 'and then you show your badge!' cried arthur triumphantly. 'now, where's your badge, wharf-rat?' for a moment chippy looked stumped. then he recovered himself and read out: '"or proves that he is a scout,"' and scratched his jaw and looked hopeful again. 'yes; but how are you going to prove it?' said arthur. 'you can't prove it! clear out, and don't waste any more of our time!' 'yus, i can prove it!' replied chippy. 'try me! i'll let yer 'unt me, if yer like. if yer cop me, yer can call me no scout!' 'that's a fair offer, arthur,' said dick quietly. and two or three of the patrol expressed the same feeling. 'oh, rubbish!' cried arthur impatiently. 'i'm patrol-leader, and i give orders. i don't mean to go shuffling over the heath after a chap like that!' chippy's sharp eye fell on arthur's necktie. it was hanging outside his waistcoat, with a knot in the end of it. every boy scout has to do one good turn a day, and the knot is to remind him of that duty. 'look 'ere,' he said, 'the knot ain't out o' yer necktie yet! now's yer chance for a good turn. lemme prove it.' everyone had to laugh at this clever twist of the argument, and billy seton murmured: 'i'm hanged if this chap is any sort of a fool! come, arthur, give him a show! it'll be great fun, anyway. we're tired of hunting each other. perhaps he'll give us a merry little run.' 'well,' said arthur, 'if you fellows are keen on it, i won't stand in your way. seems to me a pretty poor sort of game. still, it will do to choke him off with as well as another.' chapter v the choking-off of chippy 'we'll make a man-hunt of it,' said billy seton. 'i suggest that somebody lends him a pair of tracking-irons, and we give him a quarter of an hour's start. when we come up to him we'll fire at him with tennis-balls, as usual. if we hit him three times, he's dead. if he hits one of us first, that man's dead, and out of the hunt.' 'righto!' said chippy. 'i've studied them rules. i'm ready.' 'and i'll lend the tracking-irons,' cried dick elliott. chippy put on the tracking-irons with immense pride and delight. he had wondered so much what these things were, and to fasten a pair on his feet, and to make tracks with them for a real patrol to pursue him--it was simply great. 'wait a bit!' said george lee. 'we've got our tennis-balls to fire at him; but how is he going to fire at us?' 'that's all right,' said chippy. 'we've played that game. i've got mine 'ere.' he dived a hand into one of his wide-spreading pockets, and brought out a ball. 'that isn't a tennis-ball,' said arthur scornfully. it was not. chippy's funds did not run to tennis-balls. it was a bottle-cork wrapped up in pieces of rag, and whipped into shape with string. 'i'll tek my chance wi' it,' said chippy calmly, and prepared to start. the patrol laughed as he scuttled out of the pit, and dick stood with watch in hand to give him the proper law. 'he's a rum-looking beggar!' said billy seton, 'but i'll be hanged if he isn't wide-o. and i reckon he stood it uncommonly well, the way you jawed him, arthur. he didn't get a bit raggy; he just hung on to his chance of showing himself to be a boy scout.' 'pooh!' said arthur. 'this is turning the whole thing into piffle. you fellows seemed to want to chivvy him, so i agreed just for the joke. but it isn't likely that we shall recognise wharf-rats as brother scouts!' 'not likely!' cried no. , whose name was reggie parr; but the others said nothing. when time was up, away went the wolf patrol on the tracks which chippy slynn had made, and for some distance they followed them at an easy trot, for chippy had posted straight ahead over grassy or sandy land, on which the irons left clear traces. but within a mile and a half of the sandpit the track was lost. arthur graydon drove in his patrol-flag beside the last marks which could be found, and ordered his scouts to separate and swing round in a wide circle until the line was picked up again. the tracks had ended beside the wide high-road which crossed the heath, and half the patrol took one side of the road and half the other. within three minutes dick elliott raised the wild howl which was their patrol-call, and everyone rushed towards him. he had found the trail. it was on the further side of the high-road, and ran straight ahead beside it, and on raced the wolves along the tracks. chippy had observed how clear a trail he left, and when he came to the high-road, he thought it was about time to throw his pursuers out a little, for they could travel much faster than he could go in the tracking-irons. so at the edge of the high-road down went his head and up went his feet, and he walked across the smooth hard road on his hands, leaving no trace, or such a trace as the wolf patrol were not yet clever enough to pick up. with the tracking-irons safely hoisted in the air, he went quite thirty yards before he turned himself right side up again, and scuttled off. he went another mile, and practised the same manoeuvre once more, and then he crept very warily forward, for the land was rising to a ridge. unless he crossed this ridge with the utmost caution the boys behind him on the heath would see his figure against the sky-line. he marked a place where the ridge was crowned with gorse-bushes, and through these he wriggled his way, receiving a hundred scratches, but troubling nothing about that. on the other side the ridge went down even more steeply than by the slope which chippy had just ascended, and up this farther side a huge waggon, drawn by four powerful horses, was slowly making its way. as soon as chippy saw the waggon an idea popped into his mind, and he hurried forward to meet the great vehicle. he kept among the bushes so that the driver did not see him. the latter, indeed, from his high perch, was too busy cracking his whip over his team to urge them to the ascent to see that small, gliding figure slipping through the gorse. so chippy dodged behind the waggon, swung himself up by the tail-board, and climbed in as nimbly as a cat. the forepart of the waggon was full of sacks of meal, and a heap of empty sacks lay against the tail-board. in a trice he had hidden himself under the empty sacks, and lay there without making sign or sound. the waggon rolled on over the ridge, and soon chippy heard the long-drawn note of a wolf's howl. he knew the patrol was now near at hand, but he lay quite still, and peered out at the side of the tail-board, for the latter was hanging a little back. at the next moment he was being carried clean through the lines of the wolf patrol. they had separated, and had been searching busily at the second place where he had thrown them off. not one glanced at the familiar sight of a big waggon rolling back to the town, for as it passed, billy seton raised the patrol call to tell his companions that he had found the trail. all rushed towards him to resume the hunt, and away they went. as soon as they were out of sight up jumped chippy, swung himself over the tail-board, and dropped into the road. he dived at once into the bushes which bordered the way, and the waggoner never knew that he had given anyone a lift. now chippy set himself to track the trackers. he followed them up as fast as he could go, taking advantage of every patch of cover, and holding his ball in his hand ready to fire. he saw the first wolf at the foot of the ridge; this was billy seton. the track had again been lost on a hard, stony patch where chippy had stepped very lightly and carefully. the wolves had separated, and billy became an easy prey. he was bending down, carefully examining every twig, every inch of soft soil, when something hit him on the right ear and dropped to the ground. for a moment billy stared in wonder at the queer rag-ball; then the truth broke upon him--he had been knocked out. he was no longer a pursuer; he was dead. he looked up, and saw chippy's queer old felt hat poked out of a bramble thicket some eight yards away. 'got yer,' murmured chippy in his husky whisper. 'don't gie me away!' billy checked the exclamation which was rising to his lips, for he saw at once how unfair it would be to betray chippy's presence. he approached the bush, and tossed the rag ball back. 'all right,' he said quietly. 'i'll go to the rear; i'm done for.' 'thanks; you're a straight un,' returned chippy, and sank into the depths of the bramble thicket and crawled on like a snake. the next wolves he saw were running in a pair--nos. and . they had their heads together over a mark, and were debating what it meant, if it did mean anything. it was a long shot, but chippy did not hesitate. he took a ball in each hand and hung for a second on his aim. he was a first-rate thrower. it was a favourite sport in skinner's hole to cork an empty bottle, toss it far out into the river, and give each player three shots to knock the neck off. chippy was an easy winner at this game, and when a thrower can hit the neck of a bottle dancing along with the stream he isn't going to miss a boy. 'hallo!' said no. , as something took him in the neck. no. turned to see what was the matter, and pop went a ball into his eye. a felt hat rose from behind a neighbouring bush, and a finger beckoned. 'why, it's the wharf-rat,' said no. . 'he's got us!' they surrendered at once, for they could do no less, and chippy sent them to the rear, and crept on in search of fresh victims. suddenly he saw a patrol flag fluttering. ah! that was the leader who had bullyragged him. chippy's heart gave a leap. if only he could bag the proud leader, and show him that a scout could come out of skinner's hole! that would be splendid. and chippy went down flat on his face and wriggled forward to work his way within firing distance. chapter vi chippy chops them up nearer and nearer crept chippy to the vainglorious patrol-leader who had spoken so scornfully of his ambition to become a boy scout. arthur graydon was on the other side of a small open space, and chippy paused and peered from behind a holly-bush to see what chance there was of a surprise shot. he waited a moment, and the chance that came was excellent. arthur had just struck on the trail again. he threw back his head and opened his mouth to its widest, and let out a tremendous howl to call his patrol together from their wanderings. suddenly his howl was interrupted. taking a most careful aim, chippy let fly at the wide-open mouth, and put the ball fairly on the mark. arthur spluttered with rage. he thought that one of his patrol was having a lark with him. 'what's that game?' he yelled. 'who's playing the fool?' he looked angrily round, but his face became a picture of surprise when chippy walked quietly up to him and remarked: 'yer outed. step back wi' th' others i've a-took prisoners.' 'where have you come from?' roared arthur. 'never mind,' returned chippy, picking up his ball: 'that's my business, i should fancy. i've got yer, and that's enough for now.' there was a crashing through the bushes at a short distance away, and dick elliott burst into the open. he saw chippy, and it was an instant duel. dick fired first, but chippy leapt aside as nimbly as a goat, and the ball flew wide. chippy feinted to throw, and dick jumped. before he could move again, chippy let fly and struck him on the arm. 'i'm done for,' said dick, and came forward to pick up his ball. chippy vanished into a clump of gorse, for the remaining members of the patrol were running towards the place, and all three had seen him. the five who had been put out of the hunt gathered together, and watched the three effective fighters, who now began to beat the surrounding gorse in search of chippy's hiding-place. george lee, reggie parr, and a comrade named harry maurice were left in the pursuit, and they went very warily to work to seize this wily bird. reggie parr was creeping down a narrow alley between the gorse, when he saw something which pulled him up at once. he dropped flat, and signalled to george lee, who was behind him, to come up. 'i can see him. i know where he is,' whispered reggie eagerly when george was at his side. 'lift your head very carefully and take a look at a big blackthorn-bush just ahead.' george did so; and there, sure enough, was chippy's queer old felt hat, with his rather pale face under it. 'we'll rush him from three sides at once. one of us is sure to get him that way,' whispered reggie. george nodded, and crept away to take up his position, while reggie slipped off to find harry maurice and place him for his share in the attack. the signal for the charge was the cry of the patrol. when all was ready, reggie gave one howl, then the three scouts darted from their hiding-places, and bore down at full-speed on the little covert where chippy's hat was still to be seen through a thin place in the blackthorn-bush. but they burst into the covert, to find it quite empty. no chippy was there, only his old hat cleverly arranged on a stick as if he were crouching behind the bush. and while they stared at the hat and each other, there came a swift fusillade of balls from an ambush a dozen yards away. chippy had three balls, and every one hit its man. 'got yer,' grunted chippy in a tone of deep satisfaction, and crawled out of a patch of tall dried bracken, and came forward to fetch his hat. 'well, by jingo! that's an artful touch,' cried reggie parr. 'why, i saw you. i saw your face plainly.' 'i know yer did,' replied chippy, with a cheerful grin. 'i meant yer to. as soon as i wor sure yer'd seen my face, i rigged up th' ole 'at an' 'ooked it.' at the sound of their voices in conversation the other five scouts came racing towards them. dick elliott was leading. 'how goes it?' cried dick. 'have you bagged him?' 'not a bit of it,' replied george lee. 'it's the other way about. he's bagged us.' 'oh, jerusha!' cried billy seton. 'the whole patrol! he's a scout and a half, this one.' for the most part the patrol took their defeat with the utmost good humour, but arthur graydon's face wore a dark and angry look. this look deepened as dick chuckled: 'well, arthur, not much choking him off about this. our friend from the raven patrol seems to be doing the choking. there's nothing left for us to do but smile and whistle, according to scout law no. .' 'look here,' said arthur sharply to chippy, who was smiling on the wolves with a most amicable air; 'what do you mean by turning up behind us? we expected you to be in front.' 'well, i dunno,' replied chippy. 'seems to me a scout 'adn't ought to expec' nothin'. he ought to be ready for wot may turn up--front, back, or anywheer else. that's 'ow i read the book.' he dived into an inner pocket and fetched out part ii. the raven patrol had purchased it by putting together a halfpenny each, and chippy was the custodian. 'page ,' read out chippy. '"a scout must not only look to his front, but also to either side, and behind him; he must have 'eyes at the back of his head,' as the saying is." now,' went on chippy, 'that's 'imself. wot about it?' arthur had no answer to this home thrust. he turned to another point. 'how did you get behind us?' 'me?' replied chippy--'i come clean through the line.' 'oh, nonsense!' cried two or three boys. 'we were watching on each side and in front too closely for that.' chippy grinned. 'yer worn't watchin' close enough to see wot wor in the waggon from bland's mill,' he remarked. 'you were in the waggon?' cried billy seton. chippy nodded, and went on to explain. 'but at that rate,' said arthur, 'you abandoned your duty of laying a track.' 'well,' said chippy, 'there's plenty o' track now. i've bagged the lot of yer long afore the track's finished. i reckon i'm in my rights theer.' 'yes,' said dick; 'there's a good deal in that. in my opinion it was a jolly smart bit of work.' 'rather,' cried billy seton; and he began to sing the scout's song: 'ingonyama' (he is a lion); and dick responded with the 'invooboo' chorus (yes; he is better than that: he is a hippopotamus). but arthur graydon's angry voice struck in: 'stop that fooling, seton and elliott,' he said. then he went on: 'wolf patrol, you will at once return to the sand-pit and then home. march!' the patrol fell in at once, for orders must be obeyed instantly, and without question. 'wot about my challenge now?' cried chippy. 'the wolf patrol refuses to receive any challenge from you,' replied arthur shortly. 'we're not going to have anything to do with a set of grubby bounders out of skinner's hole.' he ordered his men forward, and was at once obeyed. chippy had already given up the tracking-irons, and away went the patrol for the sandpit to fetch dick's bicycle, which had been carefully hidden there. chippy watched them go with a sore heart. he had felt certain that he would be recognised as a brother scout, after capturing the whole patrol. but it seemed that he was not to be, and his bitterness found vent in speech. 'fine ol' patrol, yo' are!' he called after them. 'i'll lay a bit as b.-p. wouldn't be any too proud of yer if he knowed about it. ye've got too much edge on yer. smart togs ain't everythink.' chippy's speech, all things considered, was very natural, but in the main it was undeserved, as we shall soon see. chapter vii the patrol decides the wolf patrol were to meet mr. elliott the next thursday afternoon. if the day should be fine they were to practise tracking tests on the heath; if wet, it was to be kim's game in mr. elliott's study. the day turned out one of pouring rain, and at three o'clock the wolf patrol had gathered in mr. elliott's room, where a tray of small articles, covered by a handkerchief, lay on a side-table. 'we'll begin with kim's game,' said mr. elliott, 'and i'll be umpire. on that tray i have put twenty-five small articles, all different--a button, a pin, a stud, a ring, and so on. i shall give you each a pencil and a card, and i shall allow every boy one minute to study the tray. then he will go away and write down every article that he can remember. the card with the longest list, of course, wins.' he was about to give out the cards and pencils, when billy seton spoke up. 'mr. elliott,' he said, 'there's another matter that two or three of us would like you to umpire upon before we begin this game.' 'what is it, billy?' said the instructor. billy told the story of chippy's challenge, of his capture of the patrol, and told it fairly. 'we left him standing there,' concluded billy, 'and i didn't like it, and i found that some of the other fellows didn't like it; but we had the order to march, and we had to go; that's scout law no. . but the same law says that we can reason about an order if we don't think it's fair, and i don't think that was fair.' 'what does the patrol-leader say?' said mr. elliott, turning to arthur graydon. 'i gave the order to march because it seemed to me the thing was too silly from beginning to end,' cried arthur. 'i'm not going to scout about with a parcel of dirty, ragged wharf-rats. i think we should look a lot of idiots if we did.' 'now, mr. elliott,' said billy, 'what do you say?' 'not a word, billy,' replied mr. elliott quietly. 'not a syllable. this is a thing for the patrol to decide for themselves.' there was a short silence, then billy murmured gently: 'what do you think, mr. elliott, that b.-p. would say if he was here?' mr. elliott smiled, and shook his head. he was not to be drawn that way. 'i'll tell you this much, billy,' he remarked, 'that i think he would do exactly as i am doing--leave it to the patrol. the very foundation of the thing, you know, is to teach you to stand on your own legs.' 'why not vote upon the question?' suggested dick elliott; and the idea was received with a burst of applause. 'yes,' said mr. elliott, 'that's a good plan. hold a secret ballot, so that every member of the patrol may feel quite free to express his real feelings. we can soon arrange that.' he took a sheet of plain foolscap from his writing-table, and carefully divided it into eight equal pieces, and gave each boy a piece. from the mantelshelf he took a tall china vase, and placed that on the writing-table. 'now,' said he, 'i propose that each of you shall go out in turn to the hall table. there you will mark your papers. a circle means that the voter is willing to meet the boys from skinner's hole in friendly contest; a cross means that he is not willing. when a paper is marked it will be folded across the middle with the mark inside, brought back, and dropped into the vase. in that way the ballot will be perfectly secret, and you may freely express your feelings.' there was deep silence as the boys voted in turn according to their patrol numbers. the party in the study kept their backs to the writing-table, so that a voter was not even seen to drop his paper in, and within five minutes the eight votes were in the vase which served as ballot-box. the boys looked on eagerly as mr. elliott fetched the vase after no. had voted and returned to the group of his comrades. 'first of all,' said mr. elliott, 'i shall shake the vase well, so that the papers may be thoroughly mixed up.' he did so, then held the vase upside down, and the papers fell out. he opened them one after the other. there were six circles and two crosses. it was an immense majority in favour of chippy's challenge. 'six to two,' announced mr. elliott. 'the wolf patrol is willing to meet the ravens from skinner's hole.' 'then they'll meet them without me!' burst out arthur graydon, his face scarlet with rage, for he had quite expected to carry the patrol with him. 'i shan't be patrol-leader any longer!' he whipped off his badge and flung it on the table, and was gone before anyone could stop him or remonstrate with him. he snatched his cap from the stand in the hall, and was out of the house in a flash. the wolf patrol had lost their leader! 'that's arthur all over,' murmured billy seton. 'he's frightfully shirty. but i didn't think he'd hook it.' 'oh, he'll think better of it when he's cooler,' said mr. elliott. 'we'll get on with our game. but i'll say that i'm quite with you in your decision.' 'half a minute, please,' said reggie parr, flushing to the roots of his hair. 'i'm going to come out into the open. the other cross was mine. but i don't want to leave the patrol.' 'you needn't leave it, old man,' cried billy seton. 'we should be jolly sorry to lose you.' 'i'll run with the rest,' jerked out reggie. 'but i shouldn't like to stop and keep quiet about the cross.' 'it's forgiven! it's forgotten! come to my arms!' sang out billy, and pretended to embrace his comrade as a lost sheep returning to the fold. this caused much laughter, and the wolf patrol, save for their lost leader, were completely reunited, and plunged into kim's game with great earnestness. chapter viii the patrol-leaders a few days later dick elliott was standing outside a shop in bardon high street waiting for his sister, who was inside. he was on his way to a party, and so was dressed in full fig, a thing he hated very much, but had to put up with on such occasions. presently a second boy came along the pavement towards him. it was chippy, with a big bundle under his right arm. chippy looked at the smart figure staring into the shop-window, and recognised it. 'one o' them wolf toffs,' thought chippy. 'i wish i'd a chance to slug 'im now. i'd soon knock 'is top-'at in the gutter.' the vengeful chippy was staring at dick's glossy silk hat and irreproachable gloves, when dick looked up straight into the other boy's face. at the next moment chippy was taken utterly aback, for dick stepped forward and gave him the full salute. chippy could scarcely believe his own eyes when he thus received the honours of a patrol-leader. but he tucked his bundle between his legs, for the pavement was dirty, returned the salute, and proffered his left hand. 'wot cheer, brother!' murmured chippy in his husky whisper, for he could think of no more appropriate salutation. 'oh, i'm all right,' said dick. 'how are the ravens getting on?' 'peggin' away,' returned chippy. 'we done most o' the things out o' them books.' 'ah!' said dick. 'now about that challenge. when would you like to try a friendly turn against us?' 'any sat'day arternoon,' cried chippy eagerly. 'yer would meet us, then? yer leader ain't agin us now?' 'well, it isn't the same leader,' replied dick. 'the leader you saw has left us. we tried to get him to come back, but he wouldn't come. i'm the leader now.' 'good, good!' said chippy gleefully. 'wot about nex' sat'day at three, up at yer sandpit?' 'yes, i think i can arrange for that,' returned dick. 'we'll be there, an' proud to come,' said chippy, whose face shone again with pride and satisfaction. 'an' we'll put up the best we know to gie yer a good practice.' 'we shall get all the practice we want if there are a few more like you among the ravens,' laughed dick. 'a bit of luck,' said chippy modestly, 'that wor all. well, i must get on. i'm in a job now, an' goin' on an errand. an' when yer at work, there's law to reckon with--playin' a straight game wi' yer boss.' so the patrol-leaders gave each other the full salute, and each went their way, for dick's sister was now waiting for him. 'who's your friend, dick?' asked his sister. 'he looks like a ragged errand-boy.' 'that's just what he is,' replied dick; 'but he is also a brother scout, and so i was doing the civil.' 'good gracious!' said his sister. 'i didn't know boys like that were in it.' 'they run in all shapes,' replied dick, 'as long as they run straight.' chapter ix the wolves and the ravens on the next saturday afternoon, accordingly, the wolf and raven patrols fraternized in the old sandpit on the heath, and mr. elliott attended as umpire. the boys were far from being strangers to each other, for they had often met before in a slugging match, but all such foolish old feuds were laid aside, and they prepared eagerly for a friendly struggle in this most fascinating sport of scouting. 'now, slynn,' said mr. elliott to the leader of the ravens, 'as your scouts are the visitors, i think you ought to have the choice of the game at which to challenge the wolf patrol.' 'well, sir,' said chippy, 'wot about "scout meets scout"? i think that 'ud suit us, if it 'ud suit the wolves.' 'yes,' said mr. elliott, 'that would give you some good fun. and, as it happens, that is a game i have been thinking over. i believe you would enjoy it better still if you combined it with hunting. you've all got a ball apiece, haven't you?' yes, everybody had a ball of some sort, and all were listening eagerly to the instructor. mr. elliott drew a small parcel from his pocket, and opened it. inside there were sixteen little flags--eight yellow and eight black. 'you see, i am prepared with your patrol colours,' he said. 'the truth is, i was intending to suggest this game myself as one to be taken. now, let every scout fix a flag in his hat.' the wolves took the yellow, and the ravens took the black, and the flags were fixed. 'the next thing,' said mr. elliott, 'is full trot for the beacon;' and away they all went. the beacon was a small hill which rose sharply from the heath, and stood quite alone. it was not very high, perhaps a hundred feet, but from the top you could see far over the heath on every side. in old days a beacon-fire had been lighted on it to warn or arouse the country in times of danger; a fire had burned there when the spanish armada came. the scouts swarmed up the side, and raced each other to the top. then they gathered once more about the umpire. 'now,' said mr. elliott, 'here's my idea of "scout meets scout." the wolves will go to that patch of burnt gorse which is about half a mile east of the beacon. the ravens will go to that big oak which is about half a mile west. those are the boundaries, and no one must pass them. north and south the land becomes open quite close to us, and nobody may go out there. it isn't likely he would wish to, for he would be seen at once. when i blow my whistle, the two sides will begin to work towards each other, and the hunt opens. the scout who strikes an enemy with his ball captures that enemy's flag. the flag is handed over, and the beaten scout comes up at once to report to me on the beacon. he is dead, and will leave the contest. that patrol wins which finally captures the whole of the flags belonging to the other patrol.' 'but, mr. elliott, suppose you hit a man who has already taken two or three flags belonging to your own side, what then!' asked billy seton. 'he gives up everything,' replied the instructor, 'both his own flag and those he has taken. you see, it's a fight to a finish. the last man will simply collect the whole of the flags. the patrol with the finest scout is bound to win, and it gives everybody first-rate practice. there are heaps of hiding-places, and you may employ any means to decoy or deceive an opposing scout, except using his patrol cry, or, as the book says, disguise. but disguise is out of the question at the present moment. now, away with you!' off the boys dashed, the wolves scouring down the eastern face of the beacon, the ravens down the western. within five minutes both patrols were in position, and they signified this to mr. elliott by holding up their patrol flags. chippy had made the flag for the ravens, and made it very well too, cutting the raven out of a scrap of an old green curtain, and stitching it on to a piece of calico. when the umpire saw the patrol flags raised above the gorse clumps which hid the patrols, he blew a long blast on his powerful whistle, and the contest began. on the side of the wolf patrol, dick elliott ordered his men to spread out widely in the thick cover of gorse-bushes and low-growing thickets, and to push slowly and cautiously towards the ravens. 'you've got to be jolly careful,' said dick, 'or if there are many like that patrol leader of theirs, we shall be snapped up before we know where we are. work in pairs, and one scout will support the other.' so the wolves split into four couples, and spread themselves as widely as possible on their front. on the other hand, chippy sent his men out singly, but also on a well-extended front; and so, creeping, gliding, stealing from patch to patch of cover, and watching closely on every hand, the wolves and the ravens drew nearer and nearer to each other. dick, with the corporal, billy seton, had taken up a post in the centre of their patrol line, and they advanced together. dick looked on every hand, and was very satisfied with the way in which his men took cover. he could not catch a glimpse of one of them among the patches of gorse and heather and brushwood. suddenly dick stopped dead. he scented danger. twenty yards ahead a wren was perched on the topmost twig of a thorn-bush, chattering and scolding furiously. now, there is no bird which gives prompter warning of an intruder than the wren. whether the intruder be two-legged, man or boy, or four-legged, stoat, weasel, or pole-cat, the plucky little wren always gives the enemy a piece of her mind. 'that bird's been disturbed,' thought dick, and he dropped behind a great tuft of withered fern and waited and watched. billy seton crawled up without a sound, and lay beside him. three minutes passed, and then dick saw a shock of black hair pushed right under a low-growing blackthorn, a dozen yards in front. it was one of the ravens coming along flat on the ground like a snake. the raven put his head out of the blackthorn bush and looked and listened carefully. he seemed reassured by the silence, and made a swift dash across the open for the very patch of cover where his opponents were in hiding. both were ready for him, but he came in on billy's side, and fell to billy's deftly-thrown ball. 'you're done for, old chap!' chuckled billy. 'hand over your flag, and leg it for the hill, and report yourself.' the raven pulled a wry face for a moment, then remembered law , and tried to look cheerful. 'it's a fair cop!' he remarked. ''ere's the flag. 'ope you'll soon lose it!' the others grinned and retired to their ambush, while no. of the ravens ran to the beacon to report himself as out of the hunt. twenty minutes of careful reconnoitring passed, but dick and billy had seen no further token of any raven on the move. they gained a thick hazel copse, and crept into the heart of it to wait in ambush a little for any sign of an opponent's presence. peering through the boughs, billy whistled below his breath. 'what is it?' whispered dick. 'look at the top of the beacon,' replied billy, 'we can see it from here.' dick looked, and understood billy's whistle. four at the wolf patrol were up there with mr. elliott, while of the ravens there was but one, the scout whom they had discovered. 'our fellows have been bagged pretty easily,' whispered billy. 'i shouldn't be surprised if that artful patrol-leader isn't at the bottom of it.' 'oh, by jingo! look there, look there!' burst out dick, but below his breath. billy rounded his eyes, and the leader and corporal looked at each other in anxious surprise. two more of the wolves were climbing the hill; they were being sent in as captives. 'why,' murmured billy, 'there are only the two of us left. every man jack of the wolves has been settled except us, dick!' 'yes, and there are seven ravens out for our blood!' said dick, 'we've got to do something, i can tell you, or it's a very easy win for skinner's hole.' 'what's the best plan?' whispered billy. 'stay here a bit,' replied dick. 'we're in good hiding, and they'll scatter freely, and very likely be more careless in showing themselves, for they know there are only two of us left.' each clutching his ball ready to fire, the two remaining wolves lay closely in their ambush, eye and ear strained to catch the first glimpse, the faintest sound. within five minutes a raven appeared, stealing as softly as a cat, though his boots were heavy and clumsy, over the short, crisp heath-grass. his very care led to his capture. he was watching the grass so closely lest he should step on a dried twig or fern-stalk that he only looked up when dick's ball bounced on his shoulder. he gave up his flag and retired, and the odds against the wolves were now six to two. 'billy,' said dick, 'we must separate. if they catch us together, it's all over with the wolf patrol this time; but apart we can only be collared one at a time.' 'right!' said billy. 'which way do we move?' 'the beacon's in front of us,' replied dick. 'i'll work round it to the right, you to the left. if we're not caught, we'll meet at the oak-tree where the ravens started.' billy nodded, and the two survivors of the patrol slipped out of the hazel copse and went against their friends, the enemy. billy's suspicion that the patrol-leader of the ravens had had much to do with the downfall of the wolves had been correct. chippy, working well ahead of his line, had soon discovered that the wolves were in pairs. he hid himself in a hole under a mass of bilberry-bushes, and soon one pair of scouts passed him. he let them go a short distance, followed them up, and bagged them one after the other. then he began to work across the front of the wolves, feeling certain that another pair would not be far away. within ten minutes he had located his next pair of victims. one of them lost his mate and gave the wolf-call very low. but, unluckily for the wolves, that call did much mischief. first of all, it brought up chippy, who promptly settled the caller, and then it brought up the caller's companion, whom chippy bagged also. so the leader of the ravens now wore four yellow flags in his hat--two on either side of his own black one. right away on the other side, no. of the ravens, a very wideawake scout, had captured nos. and of the wolves by sheer speed and clever throwing, and, so far, the ravens had made a big sweep of their opponents. but the odds were not so great as they looked. dick and billy were by far the cleverest scouts among the wolves, and the destruction by the ravens had been accomplished by their two cleverest men. before long the odds went far to be equalized by the capture which dick made of no. of the ravens. this able scout fell a victim to his own impulsiveness. he saw six wolves on the hill; he became most eager to seize the other two; he forgot that for a scout there is only one word--caution, caution, always caution. so he jumped into a little gully to hide himself, without first making sure that no one was there already. as it happened, dick had crept into it three minutes before, and no. felt dick's missile before he knew what was in the wind. rather crestfallen, he gave up his own black flag and the two yellow ones, of which he had been so proud, and made his way to the beacon. dick had now five flags in his cap--two black and three yellow--and he redoubled his vigilance now that he had become so valuable a prize. he went on and on, but he never saw another raven. soon he became aware that billy had not only seen some, but seized them also, for raven after raven marched up to the summit, until billy's captives numbered three fresh ones. when the patrol leader and his corporal met at last under the oak, they greeted each other joyfully. 'well done, billy!' said dick. 'you've pulled 'em down in great style. i've only had one; but he'd got a couple of our fellows' flags.' 'oh,' said billy, 'a couple of 'em were very easy shots. the third chap was rather more sticky, but i had him at last.' 'now we'll work back and tackle the other two,' said dick. 'there are two on each side in the game now.' 'all right,' said billy; 'we'll go for 'em in style this time. there'll be some flags handed over, whoever gets collared!' each of them showed five flags in his hat. billy had his own yellow and four of the ravens' black. dick had three yellow, two recaptured, and two black. and now they plunged into cover for the final round. billy was the first to come into touch with the enemy. he was stealing along under cover of a patch of hollies, when, faint but clear, he caught the ravens' patrol call--'kar-kaw! kar-kaw!' 'where's that merry hooter?' thought billy. 'he's giving himself away, calling for the other fellow. he's mine if i can spot him.' again the call came, a short distance ahead, and billy crept forward with the utmost caution. the cry seemed to come from the other side of a space littered with blocks of turf. some cottagers who lived on the heath had the right to cut turves, and this was a place where they worked. here and there the turves were gathered into little heaps. in the centre of the open ground was a larger heap. 'i can get a shot, perhaps, from cover of that bigger heap,' said billy to himself, and he began to worm his way across the ground. he reached the big heap and crouched behind it, and peered round it in search of the raven who had been uttering his patrol call. 'where is he?' muttered billy to himself, and at the next second be knew. a faint hiss sounded in the corporal's very ear. billy thought of the vipers that swarmed on some parts of the heath, and jumped round in affright, and at that instant a ball was flipped into his eye from some unseen thumb and finger. 'hang it all!' said billy. 'i'm bagged! where are you?' 'wot cheer, brother!' came a husky whisper from the centre of the turf-stack. billy gave the stack a kick, and it collapsed, and revealed chippy crouching there with a cheerful grin on his face. he had built himself round with turves, and lay securely hidden. 'nice little lot o' flags ye've got!' murmured chippy. 'it'll be a case of all round me hat this time.' billy felt disgusted at the neat way he'd been taken in, but he proceeded to hand his flags over at once. presently his usual friendly smile broke out. 'after all, slynn,' he said, 'it was a fair catch. what a jolly artful dodge to draw me up with your patrol call!' 'not bad,' chuckled chippy. 'i know'd ye'd think there was a lost raven a-flitterin' about, an' then yo'd come to look 'im up.' 'well, i must be off and report myself,' said billy, and off he strolled, leaving the leader of the raven patrol to fix in his hat the fine trophy of flags he had captured. chippy was some little time at his task, for he had now five black flags--his own and four recaptured from billy--and five yellow flags; four he had already seized, and the fifth was billy's own original badge. he was scarcely ready to renew his quest, when a long, shrill call rang from mr. elliott's whistle. this signal had been arranged for the moment when only two rival scouts remained in the field. now the battle must be finished during the next twenty minutes, or the contest was drawn. some such sharp close was necessary, or a pair of over-cautious opponents might scout about or hide up and never find each other. the two left in were the rival leaders. just about the time that billy was drawn into range, dick bagged the other raven, and when mr. elliott saw the two defeated scouts running for the beacon he sounded his whistle. the scouts out of the game had not had a dull time of it. if they were not in the combat, they enjoyed a splendid view of it as spectators. from the top of the hill almost every movement of the fighters below could be watched, and the excitement now rose high among both wolves and ravens as they saw their leaders running through the cover below in eager search of each other. there was no hanging about in hiding. that would mean the loss of too much precious time, but each patrol-leader moved warily as well as swiftly as he sought his opponent. neither sight nor sound was made on top of the hill. that would have been unfair: the men below must be left unaided or unhindered to fight it out. but there was laughter which no one could suppress when dick and chippy passed each other on either side of a thick hawthorn copse and neither had the least idea that the other was near. then there was a joyful murmur among the wolves as dick swung round the far end of the copse, saw chippy, and darted after him. but the raven was on the alert, and observed dick almost at once, and turned to the combat. now it depended on the sureness of the eye and the speed of the throw; whoever touched the other first with his ball would secure the victory for himself and his patrol. chapter x the patrol's surprise--a thief there were several quick feints, but neither loosed his ball. then dick ran right in, and chippy threw straight at him. the wolves raised a howl of joy when their patrol-leader made a clever swerve and dodged the flying ball. then dick let fly in turn, as chippy sprang away to the right. but no sooner did the latter's quick eye detect that the ball had left dick's hand than he dropped flat on his face, and the ball skimmed just clear of him. down the hill streamed the two patrols, for the battle was over. by the laws of the game no second shot may be taken at the same enemy. 'who has won, mr. elliott?' cried the boys, as they raced up to the place where the rival leaders were laughing at each other's failure in bringing off the finishing touch. 'i shall call it a drawn battle,' said the umpire, 'with the advantage slightly on the side of the ravens, as their man has more flags than the other;' and this decision gave much satisfaction, and all voted it a first-rate piece of sport. 'now back to headquarters!' cried mr. elliott. 'we'll make a fire, and try our hand at baking chupatties, for some of you are not up to test yet.' the ravens were very keen on this, for none of them had yet tried their hands on cooking a quarter of a pound of flour and two potatoes without cooking utensils, and they were anxious to see how it was done. 'cut over and fetch the basket, dick,' said mr. elliott, as they gained the sandpit; 'there's a score of oranges in it as well. they'll come in handy after scouting over the heath.' 'rather!' said dick. 'a good juicy orange is just what i want, uncle;' and away he ran. 'shall we gather some sticks ready for the fire, mr. elliott?' said billy seton. 'we'll have our oranges first, billy,' replied the instructor. 'we can soon get plenty of sticks if all hands turn to.' a shout of surprise rang across the pit, and all eyes were turned towards dick. he was bending over the corner where the basket containing the flour, potatoes, and oranges had been carefully hidden under ferns and tufts of dried grass. 'it's gone!' yelled dick. 'there's no basket here!' gone! all ran over to the place at once, and there was the hollow in the sand where the basket had been set down; but the hollow was quite empty, and the fern and grass had been tossed aside. 'someone's bagged it!' cried billy seton. 'it's been stolen while we were away at the beacon.' 'there's nothing else to account for it,' said mr. elliott. 'now, my brave boy scouts,' he laughed, 'here's your chance to prove your mettle and skill. track this thief--for a thief has been here without doubt.' the boys were full of delight at the idea, and sprang with the utmost eagerness to search for the track of the rogue who had stolen the basket. the wolves took one side of the pit, the ravens the other, and began to look out closely for any mark of a foot entering or leaving the place. almost at once a wolf's howl was raised. harry maurice had found the mark of a heavy nailed boot, which had scored the sharply rising slope at the southern end of the pit. the mark was fresh, and led out of the hollow, and it seemed very likely that it was the trail of the thief. the patrol-leaders took it up and raced along it, with their scouts at their heels. for a quarter of a mile it was followed as easily as possible, for the ground was broken and sandy; then the trail ran on to short, close turf, and was lost. the patrol flags were driven in, and the band spread out on a broad front, and carefully advanced, searching for the spoor. no. of the ravens hit on it well away to the right, where the marauder had set his foot on a mole-heap in the turf, and left a clear track of his big, square hob-nails. 'kar-kaw! kar-kaw!' the call gathered everyone to the spot, and the leaders were agreed that it was the right track. and again they spread out on a new front, for the trail was once more lost on hard, crisp turf. this time it was not eyesight, but smell, which put the pursuers on the track of their quarry. chippy had gone some distance ahead on the probable line, and dick was near at hand. suddenly chippy lifted his head and sniffed at the air, his nostrils working like a hound's on hot scent. 'what is it, chippy?' said dick, who had noticed his companion's movement. 'bacca,' said chippy briefly. 'right ahead! come on!' 'yes; i can smell it now,' said dick, as they ran forward. 'it's coming down the wind.' the two patrol-leaders burst through a bramble-thicket, stopped dead, and raised with all the force of their lungs their patrol cries; for they had run their man to earth. there, straight below them, in a little hollow, sitting on the stump of an old thorn, and peacefully smoking, was a man with their basket set before him, its contents rolled out on the grass. 'why, it's a big, dirty tramp!' said dick. 'yus,' agreed chippy. 'it's a weary waddles, right enough. now we'll get 'im on the 'op.' up dashed wolves and ravens, and there was no need for their leaders to say a word: the situation explained itself. 'charge!' roared dick; and the two patrols burst from the thicket and swept down upon the marauder in a wild, mad wave of shouting boys and whirling sticks. for a second the tramp sat moveless in paralyzed astonishment. then he grasped what it meant, and he jumped to his feet and scuttled away as hard as he could pelt. the swift-footed boys pursued, yelling in delight, and promising that he should feel the weight of a scout's staff, when a long shrill call on a whistle checked them. mr. elliott had come in sight of the chase, and he recalled the pursuers at once. 'let him go,' said mr. elliott; 'you've given him a good fright; and the next time he comes across a hidden basket perhaps he won't be so prompt in carrying it off.' 'has he done any harm, mr. elliott?' asked harry maurice. 'he's had a couple of oranges, harry, that's all,' said mr. elliott, putting back into the basket the bag of flour and the potatoes which had been tumbled out. 'now all of you take an orange apiece--there are plenty left--and we'll start back and have a go at our chupatties after all.' 'he knew the heath, that fellow,' cried billy seton. 'he'd made for a jolly quiet place to unpack the basket and see what was in it.' 'yes,' said the instructor. 'you might have rambled over the heath all day in a haphazard fashion without hitting on him. it was quite a scout's bit of work to follow him up. you're coming on; i shall be proud of you yet!' so, laughing and talking, and eating their oranges, the wolves and ravens and their instructor marched back to the sandpit, where the rest of the afternoon was spent in the merriest fashion, so that all were sorry when the dusk began to settle over the heath and drove them homewards. chapter xi chippy meets a stranger on a sunday afternoon, some three weeks after the contest round the beacon, chippy was crossing the heath towards the little village--or, rather, hamlet--of locking, three miles from bardon. he was taking a message from his mother to his grandmother, who lived in the hamlet. the latter consisted of not more than half a dozen scattered cottages, tucked away in a quiet corner of the heath--a lonely, secluded place. chippy's destination was the first cottage beside the grass-grown track which was the only road into locking. he lifted the latch of the gate and entered the garden. standing in the garden was a young man whom chippy had never seen before. chippy looked hard at the stranger, and the stranger took his pipe out of his mouth and stared hard at chippy. 'hallo, nipper!' he said at last. chippy acknowledged the politeness by a nod, and went up the paved path to the cottage door. his grandmother was busy about the wood-fire on the broad hearth, making the tea, and she told him he'd just come at the right time to have a cup with them. 'who's that out in the garden, gra'mother?' asked chippy. 'that's my lodger,' replied the old woman. 'i never knowed yer 'ave a lodger afore!' said chippy. 'no; i never did,' she replied. 'but he come here an' he begged o' me to gie him a room, an' i did. 'twas jem lacey's mother as brought him. he's come from lunnon. his name's albert.' at this moment the latch of the door clicked and the lodger came in. 'tea ready, mrs. ryder?' he asked. 'in a minute,' she replied. 'this here's my grandson. he've a-come over from bardon.' the stranger gave chippy a cheerful nod, and they soon fell into conversation, and albert proved very talkative. 'first-rate place to pick yer up, this is!' remarked the lodger. 'been ill?' asked chippy. 'ain't i just?' replied the other. 'i'm boots at a big 'otel in the strand, an' there's a lot o' them americans come to our place. an' i can tell yer their stuff tykes a bit o' handlin'. them american women, they travel wiv boxes about the size of a four-roomed cottage, more or less. an' i got a bit of a strain pullin' of 'em about. then i ketched a bad cold, an' it sort o' settled in the bellows!'--and the stranger gave himself a thump on the chest--'so i had to go on my club, an' i was laid up eight or nine weeks. well, arter i'd been on the box that time, the doctor, 'e says to me, 'e says: "what you want now is a change an' fresh air." so jem lacey--he's porter at our place--put me up to this spot, an' it's done me wonders!' 'yer look all right now,' said chippy, and chippy spoke truly. the lodger appeared the picture of health. he was tall, broad, of fair complexion, had sandy hair and blue eyes, and, as he drank his tea, he looked as fit as a fiddle. 'ah, it's a healthy place here on th' old h'eth!' said mrs. ryder. 'look at me!' said albert. 'i'm a livin' example!' the conversation now turned on bardon, and the stranger showed keen interest in the ships which had lately gone up and down the river. 'i know a bit about ships,' he remarked, 'i 'ad a brother as went for a sailor.' after a time he returned to the garden to smoke his pipe, and chippy looked after him through the window. 'he seems a smart un!' remarked the boy. 'ay, that lunnon do mek 'em lively!' replied mrs. ryder. 'he's the best o' comp'ny--a very nice young man, i'm sure! he's no trouble at all--blacks his own boots, an' looks arter hisself all ways! i worn't willin' at first to let him have my empty room, but i'm glad i did. the place has done him a power o' good, though he didn't look very ill time he come down!' 'what's his name?' asked chippy. 'albert,' replied the old woman. 'i know that one,' said the boy, 'what's t'other name?' 'i dunno,' returned mrs. ryder. 'he told me to call him albert, and i niver asked his other name.' everything that happens, everyone that appears, must furnish food for practice for a boy scout, and chippy ran his eye over albert from head to foot, and noted every detail of his perfectly commonplace appearance. then the boy followed him into the garden, and, true to the habit which was rapidly becoming an instinct, he dropped a glance on albert's track. there was a patch of damp earth near the door, and the lodger's footprint was plainly stamped on it. at the first swift look chippy gathered that there was something slightly different from usual about the heel-print. he did not look closely, for you must never let anyone know that either he himself or the trail he leaves, is being watched; but there was something. chippy strolled forward, but no other mark was to be seen; the garden path was hard, clean gravel. albert had seated himself on a bench nailed against an elm in the garden fence, and was smoking calmly in the sunshine. as chippy drew near, he turned his head and smiled in a friendly fashion. 'i s'pose you know all the creeks along the river pretty fair?' he asked. 'most of 'em,' replied chippy. 'i've heerd jem lacey talk of a place they called smuggler's creek, where the old smugglers used to run their boats in,' went on albert; 'i should like to 'ave a look at that. when i was a kid i used to be fair crazy arter tales of old smugglers an' that sort o' thing.' 'i know it all right,' replied chippy. 'there ain't no 'ouse nor anythin' for miles of it.' 'not nowadays?' cried albert. 'yus!' returned chippy. 'it's just as quiet as it used to be.' 'could a boat from a ship in the river go up it?' asked albert. 'oh, easy!' replied chippy; and, in response to the other's request, he gave clear directions for finding the spot. 'i'll 'ave a look at it,' said the lodger. 'i like a good long walk. the doctor told me as that was the best thing for me. so i got a good strong pair o' trotter-cases, an' i tramp out wet an' dry.' he raised one of his heavy boots for a moment, and let it fall. 'got it,' said the pleased scout to himself, but gave no sign of his discovery. the heavy iron tips on albert's heels were screwed on instead of nailed on, and the groove in the head of each screw had left a small but distinct ridge in the earth at each point where the screws came in the heel. it was only practice, but chippy was as keen in practice as he was when chasing the thievish tramp for the lost basket. he had mastered the idea that it will not do to be keen by fits and starts: you must be on the spot all the time. so he took away from locking that afternoon one fact which he had discovered about his grandmother's lodger--the boots from a london hotel--that the tips on his heels were screwed on, whereas the common method is nailing. chapter xii dick and chippy meet a sergeant--the queer trail--a strange discovery the monday week after chippy's visit to locking was easter monday and a general holiday. the wolves and the ravens made it a grand field-day, and they were on the heath by nine o'clock, each with a day's food in pocket or haversack, and a grand scouting-run ahead--a run which had been planned from point to point by mr. elliott, who accompanied them. the patrols had by now worked together several times, and had become brothers in arms. the old foolish feuds between them were completely forgotten, and when dick and his friends crossed quay flat the wharf-rats would now swarm out, not with sticks for a 'slug,' but with salutes and eager inquiries as to progress in this or that game dear to the hearts of boy scouts. but it is not with this easter-monday scouting-run of the combined patrols that we are about to deal. we shall go straight away to the hour of three o'clock on that afternoon, when a very memorable and exciting experience for the two patrol-leaders began to unfold itself. mr. elliott had set his band of scouts the hardest task of the day. he himself had put on the irons, and was laying the track. he had warned them that it would be a tough test--something to really try them--and so it proved. if they failed to run him down, they were all to meet at a little railway-station about two miles away, from which they would go back to bardon by rail. they were already a good eight miles from home, for they had marched right across to an unknown part of the heath to carry out their manoeuvres. at one point, where mr. elliott's track seemed to have vanished into the very earth, dick took a long cast away to the right by himself. as he moved slowly forward he heard a rustle of bushes, and looked up and saw chippy trotting to join him. 'he's done us one this time!' said chippy, grinning; 'i'm blest if i can 'it the trail anywheer!' 'it's jolly hard to find any sign,' answered dick; 'but he told us it was to be a stiff thing, and if we can't get hold of it we shall have to head for the station, that's all. but we'll have a good go at it. what about a cast round by that rabbit warren over there? the ground's half covered with soft soil the rabbits have thrown out of their holes. if he's gone that way the irons will leave a dead certain track.' 'righto!' murmured the raven leader, and they trotted across to the rabbit warren and began to search the heaps of sandy soil. they were working along the foot of a bank with faces bent to the earth, when suddenly they were startled by a voice hailing them a few yards away. 'hallo, there!' called someone. the boys glanced up, and at once straightened themselves and came to the salute. a tall man in khaki and putties stood on the top of the bank looking at them, a revolver in the holster strapped at his side. 'and who may you be, and what do you want here?' he asked pleasantly, and returned the salute. 'we're boy scouts,' replied dick, 'and our patrols are out for a big scouting-run over the heath.' 'ah, yes! boy scouts--i've heard of you,' said the big man, still smiling at them. 'well, i'm in the same line myself. but you can't come any further this way, mateys. you'll have to scout back, if you don't mind.' 'why must we do that, sergeant?' asked dick, who had noted the chevrons on the big man's sleeve, and understood them. 'well,' said the good-natured soldier, 'it's like this: we've got a lot of big, bad convicts at work over there,' and he jerked his head behind him, 'and we keep 'em strictly to themselves, you see. they're bad company for anybody but the men as looks after 'em, so we keep this corner of the country clear of other people.' 'at that rate,' laughed dick, 'the track we want isn't likely to be laid your way?' 'not it,' said the sergeant, 'else i should ha' spotted it on my round. no, mateys, you can cut right back. ta-ta!' the boys gave him a farewell salute, and ran back towards the spot where they had left the rest of the patrol. 'that's a rum game, ain't it?' remarked chippy--'a soldier a-walkin' round in a quiet place like that theer. who's he a-tryin' to cop?' 'perhaps watching to see that no convicts escape,' suggested dick. 'you know, chippy, they often try to cut and run if they see a chance.' 'yus,' said the raven. 'i've seed that in the papers. but wot do they want convicts for on the h'eth?' 'i know,' cried dick--'i know. i heard my father talking about it at dinner the other day. it's the horseshoe fort at the mouth of the river. they're making it ever so much bigger and putting new guns there so as to be ready if ever some enemy should come to our country and try to sail up the river. the convicts are at work there, digging and building and doing all sorts of things.' 'i see,' nodded chippy; 'that's 'ow they mek' 'em useful, i s'pose.' 'that's it,' said dick, 'and that sergeant we saw was one of the men in charge of them.' 'he soon started us back,' murmured chippy. 'yes,' said dick; 'i heard my father say that they are very strict about letting any stranger go near the place.' 'that was on'y gammon of his about them convicts,' remarked chippy. 'of course it was,' agreed dick; 'he wouldn't let anyone go nearer the fort on any account.' 'how far are we off?' asked chippy. 'i'll soon tell you!' replied dick, and pulled his haversack round. from this he took out a small leathern case with a map tucked away in it. the map was a shilling section of the ordnance survey on the scale of one inch to a mile. dick had bought it and carried it as patrol-leader. the space it covered--eighteen miles by twelve--was ample for their work. dick knelt down and spread the map on the ground; chippy knelt beside him. chippy had never seen such a map before, and his keen intelligence was soon deeply interested. his finger began to run along roads he knew, and to point out spots he had often visited. 'why, wi' this,' he declared, 'ye could go anywhere if ye'd never seed the place afore. look here, this is the road to lockin', an', i'm blest! why, 'ere's my gra'mother's house, this little black dot, just off o' the road. an' 'ere's the beacon, an' there's the san'pit!' 'yes, it's a jolly good map,' said dick, 'and very clear in the heath part, for there are few roads and few houses, and every one is put in. now, where are we? let's find the rail and the station. that will give us our bearings.' the boys considered the map very carefully for a few moments; then dick put his finger on a certain spot. 'that's just about where we are now,' he said, 'and i can prove it, i think.' 'i should just like to know 'ow ye do prove it,' said chippy, to whom this map was a new and wonderful thing. 'well,' said dick, 'we know in a general way we're no very great distance from the horseshoe, and here that is.' he placed his finger on the spot where the big redoubt was shown on the map. 'then here's rising ground with trees on it, marked woody knap. now, where's that?' 'why, theer it is,' replied chippy, pointing to a hill which rose above the heath at some distance. 'it must be that. there ain't no other hill wi' trees on it in all this part o' the h'eth.' 'and how far is it away from us?' ''bout a mile.' 'which way does it lie?' chippy considered the sun, and thought over the directions mr. elliott had given the scouts time and again. 'right away north,' he answered. 'very well, then,' said dick. 'we're a mile to the south. and a mile on the heath is an inch on the map. now, my thumb-nail is just half an inch--i've measured it; so twice my thumb-nail to the south of woody knap brings us to the spot where we are.' 'so it does,' cried chippy, with enthusiasm. 'it's as plain as plain now ye put it that way. an' that's a proper dodge, to measure it off wi' yer thumb-nail.' 'oh, uncle gave me that tip,' laughed dick. 'it's very useful for measuring short distances on the map. when you want a rule, you generally find you've left it at home, but your thumb-nail is always on the spot.' 'yus,' smiled chippy; 'ye mostly bring it wi' yer. now,' he went on, 'wot's the distance to the fort?' 'to the horseshoe?' said dick, and began to measure. 'barely a couple of miles,' he said. 'we're quite close. isn't it lonely country all round it? there isn't another building for miles on this side of the river.' the broad tidal river curved down the western side of the map, widening rapidly as it neared the sea. its western bank was dotted with hamlets and villages and scattered farms, with roads and lanes winding in every direction; from the eastern bank the heath stretched away with scarce a road or house to be seen for a great distance. 'we must get on, chippy,' said dick, starting to fold up the map, 'or we shall get clean out of touch with the other fellows. we've been studying this thing quite a while.' 'oh, we'll soon drop across 'em,' replied chippy; 'they ain't found anythin', or they'd be a-hootin' like mad.' he rose to his feet and strolled slowly forward, while dick put the map-case back into the haversack. the latter was adjusted, and dick was just rising in turn, when something moving caught his eye. seventy yards away a rabbit flashed at full speed across an open strip of turf, and dived full into its burrow, and vanished with a flick of white scut. 'down, chippy!' hissed dick; and the raven fell flat on his face behind a gorse-bush, and dick crouched lower and watched. 'someone has disturbed that rabbit,' thought dick, and he waited to discover who that someone was. dick knew the ways of wild rabbits perfectly well. if a rabbit feels certain that no one is near, he ambles about in the most unconcerned fashion; but scent, sight, or sound of man, dog, or other enemy sends him to his hole at treble-quick speed. three minutes passed, and no one appeared. four, five, and dick began to think it was a stoat or weasel from which the rabbit had fled. then he knew it was not; it was a man, for there was a movement in the clump of bushes from which the rabbit had darted, and dick saw a tall figure moving very slowly. he waited for it to come into the open, but it did not. it bent down and disappeared. 'why,' thought dick, 'he's going to work just like a scout. is he slipping off under cover of those low blackthorns?' the boy watched the line of dwarf bushes, and was soon certain that the stranger was doing this. he caught a glimpse of the man's form through a thin patch, then lost it as the hidden figure crept on. dick dropped flat on the ground, and slid along to the spot where chippy lay behind the gorse-bush, and told his companion what he had seen. 'rum go, that!' murmured chippy, who from his post had been unable to catch any glimpse of the stranger. 'yer sure that it warn't mr. elliott!' 'oh no; it wasn't my uncle!' whispered dick. 'i didn't see the man clearly, but i should have known at once if it had been my uncle.' 'how about the sergeant?' said chippy. 'p'raps he's come a-creepin' arter us, to be sure we've cleared off.' 'no; i'm sure it wasn't the sergeant,' replied dick. 'the man had a cloth cap on, and the sergeant had a flat-topped soldier's cap.' suddenly chippy's eyes became round and bright, and he turned a look full of meaning upon his companion. 'wot about a convict?' he whispered. 'by jingo!' murmured dick. 'there may be something in that, chippy! has a convict escaped? is he trying to steal across the heath to find somewhere to hide himself? is that it?' chippy said nothing, but he gave a nod of deep meaning, and the two boys stared at each other. 'we must follow 'im up,' said chippy at last. 'track 'im down an' see wot it means.' 'yes, we must,' agreed dick. 'you see, chippy, if he is an escaped convict, he may be a very dangerous character to be at large. i've heard of them attacking lonely places to get food and clothes to help them to escape.' 'i've heerd o' that, too,' said the leader of the ravens; 'an' some o' the h'eth folk, they live in cottages all by theirselves.' 'yes; and suppose such a man went to a place where there was no one at home but a woman, or a woman and children?' said dick. 'who knows wot 'e might do?' and chippy shook his head. 'we're bound to lend a hand, then--law , ye know.' 'right you are, chippy,' said dick. 'law . come on!' and the two boy scouts, game as a pair of terriers, crept swiftly up to the clump of bushes from which the mysterious stranger had emerged. from the bushes the track was easy to follow for some distance. there were no footmarks, but the ferns were brushed aside and some were broken, and these signs showed which way the man had gone. when the ferns were left behind, there was still a fair trail, for the heavy boots of the stranger had broken the grass, or scraped a little earth loose here and there along the slope of the ridge which led up to woody knap. suddenly the boys lost the trail. it disappeared on a strip of turf, and they slipped back at once to the last spot of which they could be sure--a soft patch of earth where hobnail marks were fresh and clear. 'now we've got to separate and try to pick up the line,' said dick softly. 'i'll work right, and you left; and we'll meet at that big thorn-bush right in front, if we've found nothing. if one of us hits on the track, he must call to the other.' 'wait a bit,' said chippy. 'wot call? our own calls 'ud sound odd, an' might give 'im the tip as somebody was arter 'im.' 'you're right,' said dick; 'the wolf howl, at any rate, is no good here.' 'let's 'ave a call for ourselves this time,' suggested chippy. 'one as you might 'ear at any minute, an' never notice. how about the pewey?' 'first-rate!' said dick. 'the pewey. there are plenty of them on the heath!' bardon boys always called the 'peewit' the 'pewey,' and every one of them could imitate its well-known call. nothing more simple and natural could have been adopted as a signal. dick was working most carefully round his half of the circle, when the cry of the peewit rang out from the other side. away shot dick, quickly and quietly, and, as he ran, the call was repeated, and this guided him straight to the spot where chippy was kneeling beside the mouth of a rabbit burrow. the rabbits had been at work making the burrow larger, and a trail of newly thrown out earth stretched three or four feet from the hole. 'have you got the track?' breathed dick eagerly. 'i've got summat,' replied chippy; 'it looks pretty rum, too!' dick dropped beside his companion, and saw that a foot had been set fair and square in the trail of earth. but there was no sign of a nail to be seen; the track of the foot was smooth and flat, and outlined all the way from heel to toe. 'that's not a boot-mark,' said dick. 'no, it ain't,' murmured chippy. 'if you ask me, i should say it wor' stockin' feet.' 'but what should he pull his boots off for?' said dick, knitting his brows. 'this is an awfully strange affair, chippy.' 'ain't it?' said the latter, his eyes glittering with all the excitement of the chase, and the pleasure of having found this queer mark. 'as far as i can mek' out, he wanted to step as soft as he could tread.' 'but why--why, in the middle of the heath, here?' went on dick. 'i dunno yet,' said chippy; 'let's get on a bit, an' see if we pick up summat else.' dick blew out a long breath. 'it's going to be jolly hard,' he murmured, 'to track a fellow in his stockings. we've got to keep our eyes open.' chippy nodded, and they went on slowly and warily. as it happened, dick scored the next move in the game. thirty yards from the rabbit burrow a heath track crossed the trail they were following. the weather had been very dry lately, until about twelve o'clock of the present day, when a heavy shower had fallen--a shower from which the scouts had sheltered in a hovel where the heath-folk store their turves. this shower had wetted the dust of the track, and dick at once saw clear, heavy footmarks, as if a man had quite lately walked along the path and gone on. 'here's a perfectly fresh track,' said dick; 'and this chap in his stockings has crossed it at this patch of grass where he has left no sign on the path.' 'seems to me,' remarked chippy, 'as 'im wot we're arter heerd this one a-comin',' and chippy pointed to the firm new tracks; 'an' then he off wi' his boots to dodge along on the quiet.' 'i don't see anything else for it,' said dick; 'and that would make it plainer than ever that he's up to no good.' 'look theer!' snapped chippy swiftly, and pointed. dick whirled round in time to see a man's head and shoulders appear over the bushes at a far bend of the way, and then vanish as the walker turned the corner. but both boys had recognised him. it was the sergeant with whom they had spoken. dick gave a long, low whistle. 'he was dodging the sergeant, chippy!' 'it's a convict!' said chippy. 'can't be nuthin' else!' for a moment the boys discussed the plan of running after the sergeant and laying the matter before him, but they gave it up, for several reasons. he was a good way ahead, and out of sight. he might turn right or left across the open heath, and in that case they would have to hunt his track while their quarry was going farther and farther away. they decided to stick to their man, and turned to his spoor. 'here's his road,' said dick, pointing along a grassy glade. 'he's gone on, and he must have gone this way. it's all bramble and gorse everywhere else, and a man isn't going through that in his stockings.' chippy nodded in agreement, and the two scouts ran at full apeed along the narrow ribbon of grass between the prickly, spiny bushes. 'he'll soon put his boots on again,' said dick,' and then we'll get this line a lot easier.' but the fugitive had not stayed to do so for a long way, as was plain from the flat, smooth marks which the boys found twice in soft places. then the trail went again, and they pulled up and began to beat round in search of it. it was dick this time who uttered the cry of the peewit, and chippy ran up to find his brother scout holding a fragment of something in his fingers. 'picked it up just here,' said dick. 'what do you reckon it is. chippy?' 'bit of an old cork sock,' replied the raven. 'just so,' said dick, 'and it's quite dry, so it was dropped here since the rain.' 'one to you,' said chippy; 'that come out of 'is boot--jerked out as 'e was runnin'. we're on the line.' he made a few steps forward, then gave a low cry. 'here's the place where he put 'is boots on,' called chippy eagerly. 'here's all sorts o' marks.' and then chippy gave another low cry, this time full of such astonishment and wonder that dick looked at him quickly. to dick's surprise, chippy seemed fixed to the spot, his finger pointing, his eyes staring, his mouth gaping open, as if he could not believe what he saw. 'i know the tracks,' gasped chippy. 'i know 'im! i can tell yer who it is!' chapter xiii albert, who wasn't albert 'you know who it is?' cried dick. 'well, who?' 'it's albert,' said chippy. 'it ain't no convict at all. it's albert.' 'who's albert?' asked dick. chippy told the story of his grandmother's lodger, and pointed to the heel-mark before them. it was the first time since they hit the trail that the heel-mark had been clearly shown. 'screws in the heel-tip,' said chippy. 'that settles it. it's albert.' 'but wait a bit, chippy, wait a bit,' said dick. 'you're making jolly sure all at once over this one point. fifty fellows might have screws in their heels.' 'not they,' returned chippy. 'i know more about them sorts o' boots than wot you do. it's a scout's job to twig everythin', an' i twigged the screws in his boots. i knowed they worn't common, an' a day or two arter i asked a snob' (a local term for a cobbler) 'about it. i done one or two odd jobs for 'im to get 'im to talk, and then i sez to 'im, "d'yer ever screw tips on heels?" "no," he sez, "never. we screw tips on the toes sometimes, for there ain't much depth o' leather theer. but on heels there's plenty of leather to drive nails into, an' that's a lot quicker."' 'by jingo, chippy!' murmured dick; 'we shall have to get you the wolf badge.' 'not me,' grunted chippy; 'yer must do a lot more than that to get the "wolf" name, i should fancy. but wot about this work? wot about albert?' he turned to business again, knitting his brows and staring hard at the track their man had left. 'the thing gets queerer still, if it is the man albert,' said dick. 'why should he be here, all this distance from locking?' 'six mile good,' put in the raven. 'yes,' went on dick, 'full six miles, and then taking off his boots and stealing about like a thief or an escaped convict, as we thought.' 'foller 'im up,' said chippy shortly. 'right,' said dick, 'we'll see this out;' and the scouts began once more to work along the trail. for more than half a mile they followed quite easily. there were many bare patches among the grass, and the heavy shower which had fallen at midday proved a good friend to them, the damp soil giving many excellent impressions of the heavy steps of the man whom they pursued. the boys had now gained a very lonely part of the heath, for the fugitive appeared to be making for the most secluded corner of the vast expanse. they had been steadily working away from the part where the patrols had been searching, and the distance between them and the rendezvous at the railway-station increased with every stride. chippy was leading, and dick was guarding the rear. the former looked out the track, the latter watched before and behind and on either side: by sharing the duties thus they covered the whole field of a scout's work--the finding of the trail and the guarding against surprise. looking out in this fashion, dick saw a crow come sailing on outspread wings, down, down from a great height. the crow was skimming straight towards a small solitary pine sixty or seventy yards before them, as if aiming to settle among the topmost branches; but just as it was about to alight, it gave a startled, gobbling quaw-quaw-quaw, flapped its wings swiftly, and shot away at a sharp angle, and continued its flight across the heath. dick reached out his patrol flag and touched chippy. the latter paused, and the two scouts put their heads together while dick whispered what he had seen. 'there's someone about,' concluded dick. 'the bird was going to settle, but it was scared and flew away.' 's'pose i 'ave a look?' suggested chippy. 'all right,' said dick. 'i'll stay here. one can work more quietly than two.' chippy went, and within ten minutes was back, his face shining with excitement and triumph. 'albert,' he whispered--'it's albert aw' right. come on!' he crept away on hands and knees, and dick followed. piloted by chippy, the latter crawled along until he found himself behind a small bank about a yard high. 'yer can see 'im over this bank,' breathed chippy into his ear. laying his hat aside, dick raised his head inch by inch until his eyes were above the bank. now he could see between stems of dried fern without being seen himself. he was looking into a deep green hollow, bounded upon one side by an almost perpendicular wall of earth--a place from which most likely sand had been dug a long time ago. at the foot of the steep wall sat a man--the man whom they had been following. he had a pencil in his hand, and a pocket-book on his knee, and he was busily writing on a sheet of the pocket-book. all this seemed innocent enough, but at the next moment the boys looking on were filled with wonder. albert suddenly laid down pencil and pocket-book, bent forward, unlaced his left boot, and took it off. then he drew something from his pocket, and went to work on the heel of his boot. the boys were not near enough to see what tool he was using, but his movements were those of one who draws out screws, and they clearly saw the heel of the boot come loose and fall into his hand. chippy gave his companion a nudge, and they looked at each other in astonishment. then they watched albert closely, and saw him fold into small compass the piece of paper upon which he had been writing, place it inside the heel, and screw the latter up again. an idea shot into dick's mind. if he had never been a boy scout, that idea would not have occurred to him; but in his enthusiasm he had bought baden-powell's 'aids to scouting,' and read it over and over again. one chapter in that little book now sprang to his memory, and he touched chippy, and beckoned to the latter to draw back completely out of sight. they slipped eight or ten yards away, and put their heads close together and held a whispered conversation. dick's eyes shone brightly, and he took chippy by the arm. 'chippy,' he said, 'i believe that's a spy!' chippy's sharp face wore a puzzled look. 'a spy!' he repeated. 'wot's he a-spyin' on in the he'th?' 'the fort, chippy--the fort!' breathed dick eagerly--'the horseshoe, the new fort!' 'ah!' said the raven, and began to see what his companion meant. 'i've read all about it in a book of b.-p.'s,' went on dick. 'foreigners will do anything to learn about a new fort. they send spies to find out all they can. he's taking notes of all he discovers, and hiding the papers in the heel of his boot.' chippy gave an eager nod. his keen face lighted up at this new and wonderful turn of events. a spy! a foreign spy! he felt at once that here was greater game than any escaped convict. 'that's why he dodged the sergeant,' breathed chippy. 'yes; it's plainer and plainer every instant,' said dick. chippy nodded. 'wot do we do?' he asked. 'we must stop him, somehow,' replied dick. 'he might do the greatest harm to our country. it's a scout's work to collar such people. b.-p. himself has caught four foreign spies at different times in england.' chippy jerked his head towards the bank, and began to crawl back. dick understood that he was going to see what the man was at now, and followed. albert still sat under the steep bank, pencil in hand, and a fresh sheet of paper on his knee. chippy nudged dick, and made signs to him to duck down, as bardon boys say. 'i'm off to get a bit closer and see wot he's a-doin',' breathed chippy. 'stop 'ere an' "pewey" if he shifts.' dick nodded, and chippy slid away as quietly as a snake. six or seven minutes passed before dick saw his companion again. then he caught sight of the raven's head as chippy appeared round the trunk of the pine which grew on the steep bank of the pit. little by little chippy crept on, until his head was thrust over the brink, and he was looking straight down on the concealed man, the latter now drawing lines on his sheet of paper. his head was bent low over his work, and chippy craned out farther and farther to glance over his shoulder. the man sat up and began to fold this paper as before, then reached out his hand for the boot which lay beside him, and deftly unscrewed the heel once more. as soon as the paper was stowed away and the heel refastened, he took the boot in hand to put it on his foot. suddenly he looked up. either he had caught chippy's shadow, or he had felt that he was watched. he looked up, and saw the boy hanging over the brink. chippy's main purchase was on a root of gorse which cropped up at the edge of the pit. he aimed to swing himself back with all his might, depending on his grasp of the root. the root snapped short off close to the ground, and chippy went tumbling and sprawling head-long into the pit, landing at the man's feet. chapter xiv chippy and the spy the latter sprang up with a savage cry that was not english. 'ach himmel!' cried he, and again, 'ach himmel!' at that moment of immense surprise, his native tongue sprang to his lips before any other, and he leapt upon chippy, and seized him with hands that trembled. the leader of the ravens was not hurt, and his coolness was splendid. 'hello, albert!' he said; 'it's all right. there's no need to 'elp me up.' 'help you up!' hissed the stranger. 'what are you doing here? what do you mean by watching me?' his cockney accent, too, was wiped out as if by magic. probably he had forgotten for the instant that he had used it in locking. at any rate, he did not use it now. but his english was perfect, in word and tone--the english of a well-educated man. 'why,' said chippy calmly, as if to tumble on a man's head was the most natural thing in the world, 'me an' a lot more are out to-day for a run over the he'th. one cuts ahead, an' the rest of us foller 'im. we've lost the one we foller, an' he's got to be found, so i'm looking everywheer. wot made yer pull yer boot off? got a stone in it?' chippy did this superbly. he boldly mentioned the fact that the boot was off, and he suggested a probable explanation, and he did it all with just the right amount of careless curiosity. but he was dealing with no common man. the tall, powerful foreigner was still holding him by one hand with a grip of steel, and the fierce blue eyes blazed again with suspicion and distrust. the man spoke, and his tone was low and cool, for he had mastered himself, but there was a hard note in it. 'how long had you been there?' he asked quietly. 'just seein' who it was, then tumbled,' said chippy. the raven knew--how he could not say--but he knew that he was in great danger. there was a dreadful change in this man. the chattering cockney who had called himself albert had gone, and a grim, stern, savage man stood in his place, a man whose fierce glittering eyes seemed to be striving to pierce chippy's very soul and read his thoughts. chippy was indeed in danger. for dick was right: this man was a spy sent by his government to gather for them all particulars of the new fort which was being built at the mouth of the river. so far the spy had been very successful, and to carry off his notes and to secure his own safety he was quite ready to kill this boy if need should arise, and hide his body in this solitary place. consider for a moment the position in which the spy stood. what is the punishment threatened to the spy who is caught at such a task? death! what will the government he serves do to help him? nothing at all, nothing. it may be a government quite friendly to the land where the spy is seized. it will disavow him, and leave him to his fate. yet that government was quite willing to profit by his labours; nay, sent him there to gain that information. yes, because governments act upon the idea that the friend of to-day may be the foe of to-morrow, so they use such instruments freely. but if an instrument should break in the hand, it is cast aside, and not a second thought is given to it. the spy knew all this; he was no raw hand in this dangerous profession, and he was now weighing in his mind whether it would be safe to let this boy go. had he seen too much? he tried to find out how much chippy had seen. 'what was i doing when you saw me first?' he asked lightly, and smiled. but the smile was of the lips only, a mere mockery of a smile. the eyes, the very heart of a smile, remained fiercely bright, and cold, and questioning. 'fiddlin' wi' yer boot,' said chippy calmly; 'gettin' the stone out, i s'pose.' 'look here,' said the spy in quiet tones, 'have you seen me for the last five minutes? yes or no.' he paused for a reply, but none came. chippy was shaken. yes or no. that position admitted of no manoeuvring. 'what's this?' said the spy softly, and fingered with his left hand chippy's badge; his right hand was clutched with a grip of iron on chippy's shoulder. 'scout's badge,' muttered chippy. 'ah, is it really?' murmured the spy. 'yes, i've looked into that movement. well, on your word as a scout, yes or no.' chippy looked up. he forced a laugh. 'why--look 'ere, albert,' he began, and then twisted like an eel, and tried to dive under the spy's arm. he had smiled and spoken, hoping to throw the man off his guard, but this man was not easily deceived, and his grip remained unshaken. he gave a low, savage laugh. 'thank you; that is all the answer i want,' he said, and slipped his left hand into a hidden pocket under his coat. there is an instinct which teaches every living creature that the moment has come when it must fight for its life. chippy felt it strongly, and he hurled himself upon the spy, kicking, biting, tearing at him like a little tiger, but all in vain; in that powerful grip he was utterly helpless. yet no, that gallant struggle was not all in vain, for it held the spy's whole attention as he mastered his victim, and it prevented him from seeing a second boyish figure racing into the hollow down the slope by which the spy had entered. chippy, clever chippy, saw his staunch brother scout dashing into the combat, and began to yell at the highest pitch of his voice, not calling to dick, but just making a noise, any noise, to cover the sound of those swift feet, and give dick the advantage of a surprise as he darted up behind the spy. dick made full use of the opportunity. he had watched every movement of the two in the hollow, and had leapt from his cover as soon as he saw chippy begin to struggle. his patrol flag was fastened on a stout ashen staff, hard as iron, an old alpenstock cut down. he swung it up as he ran, and he was within a yard of striking distance, when he saw the spy's hand reappear with something in it glittering like the blade of a dagger. with a last bound dick was within reach, and he brought the heavy staff down with all his strength, fetching the spy a ringing crack on the head. half-stunned, the man staggered round to face the new assailant, and chippy saw his chance. he tore himself free, made a swift dive to the ground, and was off. dick joined him, and the two boys scoured away at full speed, leaving the spy all abroad for the moment from the effects of that shrewd stroke. chapter xv flight the scouts made straight for the bank over which they had been peeping, leapt it, and dashed on, chippy picking up his patrol flag as he ran. he had left it with dick to have his hands free. dick was last over the bank, and he glanced back as he cleared it. 'run, chippy, run,' he called. 'he's coming! he's coming!' the spy had pulled himself together, and was in hot pursuit. he was bounding up the slope, and dick saw that he came terribly fast. 'he's a confounded long-legged beggar,' thought dick. 'we shall have to fight for it yet. it's lucky we've got a good stick apiece.' beyond the bank was a long grassy ride sloping easily downwards, and here the boys ran their fastest, and behind them the spy raced at great speed, gaining, gaining steadily. they went half a mile, and then dick gasped: 'he's close on us, chippy. let's turn on him!' 'not a bit of it,' grunted chippy. 'peg it! peg it! see wot's in front?' 'only some burnt furze,' said dick. 'only!' snorted chippy. 'see wot's under my arm?' dick looked, and, precious as wind was, he let out a yell of delight. in the excitement of the flight he had not observed it; tucked under chippy's arm was the spy's boot. the raven had whipped it up, and carried it on at the moment of escape. dick at once saw what chippy meant. hitherto they had been running over clear open grass, and the spy, even with one boot off and one boot on, had made tremendous headway, but the burnt furze was close at hand, and here they would show him another dance altogether. they were approaching a broad belt of land which had been swept by a heath-fire. the furze-bushes had been very thick on the ground, and had been burned away to the very foot of the stems. now those close-standing stems pushed short spikes above the soil like the teeth of a huge harrow pointing upwards, each tooth blackened, hardened, and pointed by fire. the spy was not ten yards behind the boys when the latter burst into the flame-swept belt of heath. their boots kicked up clouds of black ashes as they bounded forward, and their pursuer followed at once. twice he put his unprotected foot down in safety, missing by sheer luck the thickly planted spikes, but the third time he set the very middle of his sole on a short stout fang standing bolt upright, and pointed by fire as if with a knife. he let out a yell of agony as the spike, by the force of his weight and speed, was driven home into his foot. 'got 'im,' said chippy, and the two scouts turned to see their enemy, doubled up on the ground, utterly crippled for the time by that shrewd thrust from below. 'i knowed that 'ud settle 'im, if we could on'y get on to it,' chuckled chippy, while the boys eased their speed, but still ran steadily on. 'i've 'ad my foot cut on a burnt root afore now.' 'oh, chippy,' said dick, 'what a touch to bring his boot! that was splendid.' ''tworn't a bad notion,' agreed chippy. 'we'll leg it a bit again, an' then 'ave a look at it.' the boys ran for a mile or more, and then fell into a walk. the blackened strip of country was now out of sight, and they looked round for a place to halt for a few minutes to get their breath and examine the boot. 'we want a place,' said dick, 'where there's good cover for ourselves, and a clear space all round so that no one can surprise us. i learned that from "aids to scouting."' 'i see,' said chippy. 'wot about that patch o' thick stuff right ahead?' 'that'll do,' said dick; 'there's plenty of room all round it;' and the boys ran to the covert and crept into it. 'now for the boot,' murmured dick eagerly, as chippy laid it down between them. 'here you are, chippy. here's my pocket-knife, and there's a screw-driver in it.' 'righto,' said the raven. 'i was just a-thinkin' 'ow to open it.' chippy went to work with the screw-driver in dick's knife, and in two minutes the heel-plate was off. the screws held the iron tip and a single thickness of leather in place as a cover on the rest of the heel. in the thickness of the heel was a small cavity out of which fell three closely folded scraps of paper. the boys opened the papers and looked at them. they could make nothing of the marks and signs with which the tiny sheets were covered. 'there don't seem no sense at all here,' remarked chippy. 'those are secret signs,' replied dick, 'so that no one can understand the information except the people for whom it is meant. i expect they'd know fast enough, if once they got hold of it.' 'well, they won't 'ave it this time,' said chippy. 'wot are we goin' to do wi' this?' 'i wonder where that sergeant is,' said dick. 'i'll be bound that was his business on the heath, chippy--not trying to keep convicts in, but trying to keep spies out.' 'i never took it in when he was tellin' us to tek' care o' the convic's,' said chippy. 'not but wot i thought at fust as one of 'em had got away.' 'so did i,' agreed dick. 'i felt certain it was an escaped convict.' 'an' it wor' albert,' murmured chippy in wonder. 'albert, wot 'ad been bad, an' come down from lunnon for his health,' and chippy chuckled dryly. before the papers were restored and the heel fastened up, dick measured the hidden cavity with his thumb-nail. it was one inch and a quarter in length, one inch in breadth, and half an inch deep. 'plenty of room for a lot of dangerous information there,' remarked dick. 'what makes 'em so sharp on this game?' asked chippy. 'oh,' cried dick, 'i've heard about that. a spy gets a great sum of money if he can carry back full information about the forts and soldiers of another country. you see, it is a great help if you are going to war with that country. you know just what you've got to meet, and you can be ready to meet it.' 'i see,' said chippy. 'well, i've done the boot up again. now we'll have a look round for that sergeant. we've come straight back to the part where we seed 'im afore.' 'so we have,' said dick; 'there's woody knap right in front of us again.' 'hello! wot's that?' cried chippy, whose eyes were always on the move. he was pointing through the covert towards the direction from which they had come. something was moving in the distant gorse, and then they saw the spy. he was hobbling along at a good speed, his eyes bent on the ground. 'here he comes again!' cried dick, 'and, by jingo, he's following our trail. i say, chippy, he can do a bit of scouting, too.' 'that's a fact,' said chippy, and began to steal out of the covert on the farther side. before leaving it the two boys paused for a last look at the spy. his wounded foot was bound up in his cap with a handkerchief round it, and he was covering the ground at considerable speed. he was a first-rate tracker, and he was coming along their trail as easily as if he had been trotting on a plain road. for a few seconds the boys were held fascinated by the sight of this savage sleuth-hound at their heels. they were held as the rabbit is held, when he pauses in his flight, yet knows that all the time the weasel is following swiftly in quest of his life. suddenly the boys started, looked at each other, threw off the feeling, and ran away at their best speed, for the halt had given them their wind again. 'good job we 'ad a place where we could see 'im a-comin',' remarked chippy. 'i ain't a-goin' to forget that tip.' 'he sees us now,' cried dick. 'he's coming faster.' the boys were no longer hidden by the covert in which they had halted. they had come into the spy's field of view, and now he pursued by sight, and leapt out at the best speed he could make. chippy looked round. 'droppin' 'is foot down a bit tender,' commented the raven; 'we can choke 'im off any time we want on a rough patch.' dick now pulled out his patrol whistle, and began to blow it. 'i'll join yer,' said chippy, and pulled out his. the two whistles sent their shrill blasts far over the heath, as the boys ran on and on, and the spy still pursued. the latter had faltered for a moment when the whistles rang out but he had recovered his speed and hastened forward. he thought that it was a trick, that the boys wished him to fear that they had support near at hand. if only he could seize the boy who carried his boot! that was his great hope. chapter xvi the spy is seized it was a happy thought of dick to use his patrol whistle upon reaching the strip of country where they had seen the sergeant. the latter heard the very first shrill note. he was haunting that stretch of the heath for a purpose, eyes and ears wide open. he ran towards the sound, and came plump on the boys as they raced round a bend in the way, for the two scouts were now following the heath-track where they had last seen the prints of the soldier's ammunition boots. 'hooray!' yelled chippy, who was a little in front. ''ere he is. hooray!' and dick joined in the cheer. 'you two again!' cried the astonished sergeant. 'what on earth are you nippers up to?' 'we've discovered a spy, sergeant,' panted dick. 'he's running after us. he'll be up in a minute.' at the word 'spy' the sergeant's face underwent an extraordinary change. it filled with wonder, and then a grim alertness sprang to life all over him. he dropped his hand to his holster, and whipped out a big regulation revolver, blue and sombre. the boys formed behind as under cover of a tower of strength, and the spy dashed round the bend. 'hands up!' bellowed the sergeant, and the spy knew better than to disobey with that grim dark muzzle laid full on his body. 'heavenly powers!' murmured the sergeant, 'i was right. as sure as my name's john lake i was right. didn't i see you on the heath just about here last thursday?' he demanded of the spy. the latter made no reply. he stood, drawn up to his full height, his hands above his head, and in one of them was a long-bladed hunting-knife of the sort which folds into small compass. now it was fully opened, and looked a very dreadful weapon. the man was white as death, and gasping fiercely from his run and this frightful surprise. 'drop that knife,' commanded the sergeant, 'or i'll put a bullet through your wrist.' the spy's wild eyes were fixed on the english soldier's grim face. he knew when a man meant what he said, and he dropped the knife. 'step two yards back,' went on the sergeant. the spy did so. 'one o' you boys pick up that knife,' murmured the sergeant; and dick ran and fetched it. 'now, i'm in the dark yet,' went on the sergeant quietly; 'all this looks very suspicious, but how do you boys come to reckon you've nabbed a spy?' dick began with the boot and the papers hidden in it. 'that's enough, my lad,' said the sergeant. 'we'll lose no time. there's plenty o' reason, i can see, to take him in on suspicion, and after hearing that i'd shoot him at once if he tried to escape. now you,' he went on to the spy, 'turn right round and march ahead as i tell you. and remember i'm a yard behind you with a cocked revolver. march!' the spy turned, and went as he was bidden. 'come on, boys; you must come with me,' said the sergeant and the little party went across the heath, the prisoner turning as the sergeant bade him, and taking as direct a line as possible to the horseshoe fort. an hour later dick and chippy found themselves in the presence of the officer in charge of the works at the fort. the prisoner had been handed over into safe keeping, and the sergeant and the two boys had been ordered to report to the colonel himself. they were shown into a large bare room where a tall man was seated at a great table covered with papers. he stood up, as they went in and saluted, and posted himself in front of the fire. 'well, sergeant lake,' he said. 'what's all this about?' 'i believe, sir, i've got a spy; at least, these boys had him. i only helped to bring him in.' so spoke the modest sergeant. 'ah, yes, a spy;' and the colonel nodded, as if he had been expecting a spy for weeks, and perhaps he had. 'but this is rather an odd thing to get hold of a spy in this fashion. let me hear all about it.' 'i can tell you little or nothing, sir,' replied sergeant lake. 'i didn't wait to hear all their story. the boys told me enough, though, for me to bring him in.' 'well,' said the colonel, 'suppose i have the story from one of you boys?' dick and chippy looked at each other, and the latter mumbled: 'you tell 'em. yer can manage it a lot better 'n me. i shan't, anyhow. goo on.' thus adjured by his brother scout, dick told the whole story from the moment he saw the startled rabbit until they had run upon the sergeant in their headlong flight. then chippy handed over the boot, which underwent the most careful examination at the hands of the colonel. the latter spread out on the table the tiny sheets of paper from the cavity, and studied them long and earnestly. to his trained eyes those marks meant things which the boys had, as was only natural, failed to grasp. he had sat down at the table to examine the papers, and dick, chippy, and the sergeant were standing on the opposite side. at last the colonel leaned back in his chair, and looked at the boys and tapped the papers with his forefinger. 'oh yes,' he said, 'you've nabbed a spy, and no mistake about it, my brave lads. i feel, personally, that you've done me an immense service, for i should have been simply wild to think that my plans were as good as pigeon-holed in some foreign intelligence office. but, after all, that's only my personal feeling. you've done your country an immense service, and that's a much bigger thing still. unfortunately, it can never be publicly recognised: this affair must remain a profound secret; and men, you know, have received medals and open honour for smaller things than you have done to-day.' 'we don't trouble at all about that, sir,' said dick quietly. 'we're not out for what we can get for ourselves: we're boy scouts.' 'i beg your pardon,' said the colonel. 'i beg your pardon. of course, you're boy scouts, and that puts you on a different footing at once. you look at the thing from a real soldier's point of view--all for his side, and nothing for himself. that's it, isn't it?' 'theer's scout law ,' growled chippy; 'it's all theer.' ah! law ,' said the colonel, who was not, like chippy, a walking encyclopaedia on 'scouting for boys.' 'i should like very much to hear how that law runs.' chippy recited it, and the colonel listened attentively as the scout said, 'a scout is loyal to the king, and to his officers, and to his country, and to his employers. he must stick to them through thick and thin against anyone who is their enemy, or who even talks badly of them.' 'a splendid law,' he said, 'and you boys have obeyed it nobly to-day. and now i'm going to ask you to be very quiet about the seizure of this man. you may, if you wish, tell your parents, but bind them over to strict secrecy. you see, this man belongs to a nation with whom at the moment our own is on the most friendly terms, and it will never do for his capture to get abroad. now, how are you going to get back to bardon?' dick mentioned the station at which they were all to meet. the colonel looked at his watch, and shook his head. 'you can't do that now,' he said; 'but we'll manage it all right. my chauffeur shall run you over to bardon direct, and drop you at the station. there you'll meet your friends when they arrive. my napier will do that comfortably. but we must find you something to eat first. come with me to my quarters.' half an hour later the colonel put the two scouts in his big splendid six-cylinder napier, and the great car was ready to start. as he shook hands with them at parting, he wished to tip them a sovereign apiece, but the boys would not hear of it. chippy, to whom the money was a little fortune, was most emphatic. 'not a bit of it, sir,' he growled--'not a bit of it. if we tek' money for the job, 'ow 'ave we 'elped our country?' 'i quite understand,' said the colonel, smiling, 'quite. you're a pair of trumps, and i honour the feeling. if b.-p.'s movement turns out many more like you it will prove the finest thing we've had in the country for many a day.' he gave his man a nod, and away shot the huge powerful car along the road which led to bardon. true to the colonel's promise, the car drew up outside bardon station a few minutes before the train which would bring their friends was due. dick and chippy sprang from the tonneau, where they had ridden in immense comfort, thanked the chauffeur, bade him good-night, and sought the arrival platform. ''ow about mr. elliott?' said chippy; 'we ought to tell 'im.' 'ah, of course!' said dick. 'he's our instructor, and the colonel said we might tell our parents. at that rate we might tell uncle jim.' 'i shan't tell my folks,' said chippy; 'they wouldn't bother about knowin'. i'll tell mr. elliott instead.' 'all right, chippy,' said dick. 'hullo, here's the train!' mr. elliott was very much relieved when the first faces he saw on the platform were those of the missing patrol-leaders. wolves and ravens, too, swarmed out and sprang on their lost comrades, and plied them with eager questions. but to each inquirer dick and chippy merely said they had been on duty, and come home another way, and the patrols were left mystified and wondering. 'i've got to report to yer, mr. elliott,' said chippy, and took him aside. now, the patrols thought that this disappearance and reappearance of the leaders was something in connection with the day's movements, and their questions were checked, for discipline forbids prying into the arrangements made by officers. the instructor was full of delight when he heard how the missing leaders had spent their time. he congratulated both warmly, and said: 'one to the boys' scout movement this time. if you hadn't been out on that scouting-run, the plans of the new horseshoe fort would have gone abroad as easily as possible. that's playing the game as it ought to be played.' chapter xvii hoppity jack's stall when chippy left the station and gained skinner's hole, he put away his patrol flag carefully behind the tall clock, which was the only ornament of the poor squalid place he called home, and then turned to and helped his mother with a number of odd jobs. 'there ain't much supper for yer,' she said--'on'y some bread an' a heel o' cheese.' 'that's aw' right,' said chippy. 'gie it to the little uns. i don't want none.' he left the house and strolled towards a corner of quay flat, where on saturday nights and holidays a sort of small fair was always held. one or two shooting-galleries, a cocoa-nut 'shy,' and a score or more of stalls laden with fruit, sweetmeats, and the like, were brilliantly lighted up by naphtha flares. towards this patch of brightness all loungers and idlers were drawn like moths to a candle, and chippy, too, moved that way. it was now about half-past nine, and the little fair was at its busiest. as he went he was joined by an acquaintance, who held out a penny packet of cigarettes. 'have a fag, chippy?' he said. 'not me, thenks,' replied chippy. 'i've chucked 'em.' 'chucked 'em!' replied his friend in amazement. 'what for?' 'they ain't no good,' said chippy. 'there ain't one in our patrol as touches a fag now. if he did, i'd soon boot 'im. 'ow are yer goin' to smell an enemy or a fire or sommat like that half a mile off if yer spoil yer smell wi' smokin'?' 'i dunno,' replied the other. 'who wants to smell things all that way? why don't yer go and look?' 'yer can't always,' returned chippy, 'and when you dussn't go close, it comes in jolly handy to be able to smell 'em, and them wot smoke can't do it. so there ain't no fags for boy scouts!' 'i like a cig now and then,' said the other boy. 'who's stoppin' yer?' asked chippy loftily. 'you ain't a boy scout: you don't count.' this view of the case rather nettled chippy's acquaintance, and he began to argue the matter. but he was no match for chippy there. away went the latter in full burst upon his beloved topic, and the other heard of such pleasures and such fascinating sport that his cigarette went out, and was finally tossed aside, as he listened. 'yer don't want another in the ravens, do yer, chippy?' he asked eagerly. 'not now,' returned chippy, 'but we could mek' another patrol, i dessay. i'll talk to mr. elliott about it.' 'righto, chippy,' returned the other. 'i know plenty as 'ud like to join. i've heard 'em talkin' about it, but i hadn't got 'old of it as you've been givin' it me. hello, wot's up here? here's a lark--they're havin' a game wi' old hoppity jack, and there's ne'er a copper about.' while talking, the boys had drawn near the noisy crowd of skinner's hole residents gathered around the stalls and shooting-galleries. one of the stalls stood a little away from the rest, and instead of a huge naphtha flare, was only lighted by a couple of candles set in battered old stable-lanterns. the owner of the stall was a queer little bent old man wearing an immensely tall top-hat and a very threadbare suit of black. the collar of his coat was turned up and tied round his neck with a red handkerchief, and the ends of the handkerchief mingled with a flowing grey beard. he was a well-known character of skinner's hole, and the boys called him hoppity jack, because one of his legs was shorter than the other, so that his head bobbed up and down as he walked. he kept a small herbalist's shop, and stored it with simples which he rambled far and wide over heath and upland to gather, and dry, and tie up in bunches. on sundays he betook himself to the public park of bardon, carrying a small stand. from this stand he delivered long lectures, whenever he could gather an audience, on the subject of the ten lost tribes of israel. altogether, he was one of those curious characters whom one finds at times in the byways of life. his many oddities marked him out very distinctly from other people, and often made him a butt for the rude jokes and horseplay of idle loungers on quay flat. his stall was always to be found near the rest, and it was never stocked but with one thing--a kind of toffee with horehound in it. he made it himself, and vended it as a certain cure for coughs and colds. as chippy and his companion came up, hoppity jack was screaming with rage, and the crowd of idle boys tormenting him was convulsed with laughter. a long-armed wharf-rat had flung a piece of dried mud and sent the old man's queer tall hat spinning from his head. the thrower was laughing loudly with the rest, when a sound fell on his ear. 'kar-kaw! kar-kaw!' he whipped round, for he was a member of the raven patrol, and saw his leader a dozen yards away, and ran up at once. 'wot d'yer want, chippy?' he cried. 'come out o' that,' commanded chippy--'come out an' stop out. wot sort o' game is that un for a scout?' 'on'y a bit of a lark wi' old hoppity jack,' said the surprised raven. 'why, yer've bin in it yerself many a time, chippy.' the patrol-leader went rather red. no one likes to be reminded of the days when he was unregenerate. but he spoke firmly. 'we got to chuck them games now, ted. theer's law , yer know. he's old, an' more 'n a bit of a cripple.' 'well, i'm blest!' murmured the astonished ted. 'i never thought o' the scoutin' comin' into this.' 'it does, though,' replied chippy, 'an' we got to stand by an' lend 'im a hand, as far as i can mek' it out.' 'he'll want a hand, too,' said chippy's acquaintance. 'they're goin' to upset the stall an' collar the toffee.' it was true; a number of boys were gathering for a rush, while hoppity jack danced in frenzy up and down in front of his stall and shouted for the police. but though no police were near, a staunch band of helpers sprang up as if by magic to aid the poor badgered old fellow beset by enemies. the raven patrol call rang out, and was answered swiftly. most of the ravens had come out on to quay flat after their return home, and in a trice chippy was at the head of six of his scouts. his orders were brief. 'we got to stand that lot off old hoppity,' he said, and every raven wondered, but obeyed, for they adored their clever leader, and were held in strict discipline. at that moment the marauders made their rush, but, to their great surprise, they were taken in flank by a charge which hurled them into utter confusion, and sent them rolling to the ground, one on the other. the seven scouts had timed their assault to the moment, and sent their opponents over like ninepins. there was a sharp, short scuffle when the assailants got to their feet, but it soon ended in favour of the patrol. chippy had known what he was about when he enrolled his men, and the pick of skinner's hole now fought under his command. 'no punchin',' roared chippy. 'just start 'em. like this! ' he bounded up to the leader of the rush on the stall--a youth a good head taller than himself--and gave him an open-handed slap on the jaw, which rang like a pistol-shot. the ravens leapt to support him, and the marauders were driven off in short order, the raven who had knocked the old man's hat off now exerting himself with tremendous zeal to show the sincerity of his repentance. 'that's aw' right,' said chippy to his followers when the enemy were in full flight; 'yer off duty now.' 'but look 'ere, chippy,' said the corporal, sam fitt by name, 'have we got to be ready any time to stand up for hoppity jack sort o' people? o' course, now we had orders from you, an' that's plain enough. but is it a reg'lar game?' 'of course it is, sam,' said chippy; 'you can't be a scout when yer like an' then drop it for a lark. yer must play the game all the time.' thus did chippy turn from serving his country to saving hoppity jack's stall, and it was all in the day's work. chapter xviii chippy's bad time when chippy told his followers that they must play the game all the time, he meant every word that he said. he had devoted himself heart and soul to becoming a true scout, who is also a true gentleman, and he not only could reel off the laws by heart, but, as we have seen, he honestly strove to put them into practice at every moment. but now and again he ran up against a hard streak of weather in doing this, and he hit an uncommonly hard streak the very next morning. at seven o'clock he turned up bright and early at the fishmonger's shop where he was employed. his employer, mr. blades, was in a fairly prosperous way of business in one of the secondary streets of the town. mr. blades looked after the shop; his son, a young man of twenty-three, drove a trap round with the customers' orders; and two boys, of whom chippy was one, cleaned up, fetched and carried, ran short distances with pressing orders, and made themselves generally useful. all went as usual until about eleven o'clock in the morning, when chippy was despatched to deliver four or five small bags of fish at the houses of customers who lived within easy reach. he handed in the last bag of fish at the kitchen door of a semi-detached house, and the mistress took it in herself. chippy was going out at the gate, when he heard himself called back. he returned to the door. the customer had already opened the bag, and was surveying critically the salmon cutlets inside. 'i don't think these look quite fresh,' she said. 'has mr. blades had salmon in fresh this morning?' 'yus, mum,' answered chippy. 'were these cutlets taken from the fresh salmon?' they were not, and chippy knew it, and was silent for a moment. she looked at him keenly, but smiling at the same time--a pleasant-faced, shrewd-eyed woman. 'look here, my boy,' she said, 'these cutlets are for my daughter, who is only just recovering from a long illness, and i want her to have the best. you've got an honest sort of face, and i'll take your word. were they cut from the fresh salmon?' 'no, mum,' mumbled chippy. 'i felt certain of it,' she said. 'now you ask mr. blades to send up fresh cutlets or none at all.' chippy went back with a sinking heart: he knew mr. blades. there was ample reason for his foreboding when he reported that the customer wanted cutlets from the fresh salmon. 'fresh salmon!' roared mr. blades, a red-haired, choleric man. 'how under the sun did she find out these were not fresh? they look all right, and they smell all right.' chippy said nothing. suddenly the fishmonger turned on him. 'tell me just what she said!' he bellowed. 'you've been at some fool's trick or other, i know. you boys are enough to drive a man mad. did she ask you anything?' 'yus,' grunted chippy, who now saw breakers ahead. 'well, what did she ask you?' 'wanted to know if they wor' off o' the salmon as come in this mornin'.' 'and what did you tell her?' 'told 'er no,' mumbled chippy. the fishmonger jumped from the ground in his rage. 'there!' he cried, and smote the counter in his anger. 'what did i say? these boys are enough to ruin anybody! "told her no! told her no!"' he paused, speechless, and glared at chippy. at this moment a trap drove up to the kerb and stopped. young blades jumped out and came into the shop. 'hallo!' he said cheerfully. 'giving him a wiggin', guv'nor? that's rum. slynn's a good little man, as a rule.' mr. blades recovered his breath with a gasp and poured out the story of chippy's enormity. 'told her no, larry!' he said. the astounded fishmonger could not get away from this. 'told her no!' he repeated once more. larry blades threw back his head and burst into a roar of jolly laughter which rang through the shop. 'well, that's a good un!' he cried--'a real good un. and i never thought slynn was such a softy. why, slynn,' he went on, and clapped chippy on the shoulder, 'you'll never make a fishmonger if you carry on like that. everything's fresh to a customer. you must always tell 'em it's just done its last gasp, unless the smell's a trifle too high, and then you must be guided by circumstances.' he turned round to his father and laughed again jovially. 'it's all right, guv'nor,' he said. 'cool off and calm down. you do get so excited over these little trifles. the kid's made a mistake. well, he won't do it again. anyhow, he's worth twenty o' that other kid. i caught him on th' oakford road with his bags hangin' on some railings and playin' football with about a dozen more.' 'i dunno about him not doin' it again,' grumbled mr. blades; 'that's the way to lose customers; and people pass things like that from one to another.' 'look here, slynn,' said larry blades, wheeling sharply round, 'you've got to put yourself square with the guv'nor, or he'll have a fit every time you start on a round. now, drop on your bended knees, raise your right hand, roll your eyes up, and say, "mr. blades, i'll never, never be such a flat again"'; and larry laughed loudly, and pressed chippy's shoulder to force him down and carry out the joke. but chippy did not go down: he only looked with anxious eyes from father to son. 'come on, speak up!' cried larry. 'what made you do such a soft trick, slynn?' 'she said her daughter 'ad been ill,' mumbled chippy. 'what of that?' laughed larry. 'that salmon wouldn't hurt her then.' 'yer see, i'm a boy scout,' burst out chippy suddenly, his husky voice hoarser than ever from excitement and uneasiness. 'boy scout?' said larry wonderingly. 'what's that? and what's it got to do with mrs. marten's cutlets?' chippy began eagerly to explain, and the two men listened for a few moments in puzzled wonder. 'oh, well,' burst in larry, 'that may be all very well in its way, but it's clean outside business.' 'it ain't outside anything,' murmured chippy. 'what!' said young blades. 'you don't mean to say you'd do the same if it happened again, do you? do you want to lose your job?' chippy stood aghast. lose his precious four-and-six a week! 'no, no,' cried chippy; 'i'll do anything. i'll work as long as yer like--i'll come at six if yer like, an' stop till any time at night. don't tek' me job off o' me.' 'well, if you want to keep it, you must do as you're told,' began larry, but his father out in. 'there's a lot of talk,' he cried, 'but i want you to notice, larry, that that boy is dodging the question all the time. he's given no promise to do his best by us, and he ain't going to give any promise, either.' 'all right,' said larry. 'i'll come bang straight to the point. if we send you out, slynn, with a bit o' salmon that looks sweet and smells sweet, will you swear to a customer as it's dead fresh, and can't be bettered?' chippy was cornered. on one side his job--his precious job--how precious none could know unless they knew his starved and narrow home; on the other his oath as a boy scout to run straight and play fair to all men. 'now, speak out,' cried larry impatiently. but chippy--poor chippy!--had seen an ideal in his rough, hard life, and he clung to it. 'yer see,' he began once more, 'i'm a boy scout----' the fishmonger was bubbling mad all the time; now he completely boiled over. 'there he goes again!' yelled mr. blades. 'if he's a boy scout, let him clear out o' this, and scout round for another job. now, then, shift, and look sharp about it.' but chippy was unwilling to go. he was searching his mind for words with which to plead, and to promise to do his utmost for them, save for the breaking of his scout's oath, when the furious fishmonger sprang upon him, tore the bag he still held from his grasp, and literally threw him out of the shop. taken by surprise, chippy was pitched headlong, and went sprawling along the pavement. he picked himself up without a word, and went away down the street. his job had gone, and he knew it, and he stayed not another moment for vain pleading. 'just hark at him!' cried the fuming mr. blades; 'the impident young dog! got the sack, and goes off whistling!' 'well, i'm blest!' said larry, and nodded his head thoughtfully. 'i thought he was dead keen on his job. but he don't care a rap about it. he was only a-kiddin' us. whistling like a lark!' poor chippy! how sorely was he misjudged! the fishmonger and his son knew nothing of scout law : 'a scout smiles and whistles under all circumstances,' and 'under any annoying circumstances you should force yourself to smile at once, and then whistle a tune, and you will be all right.' chippy turned a corner, and his whistling died away. soon it stopped. his mouth worked a little, and his lips would not quite come into shape for the merry notes. scout law was splendid advice, but this was a very stiff thing, even for no. . chippy could not whistle, but he hoped very much that he still wore the smile. well, his face was twisted, true, and the twists had the general shape of a smile, but it was a smile to wring the heart. when he got home, he found his mother bending over the wash-tub. she looked up in surprise and then alarm: his face betrayed him. 'what's the matter?' she cried. 'what brings you back at this time?' 'i've got the sack,' said chippy briefly. the poor pinched-face woman cried out in dismay. 'an' your father's only done four days this last fortni't!' she wailed. chippy's father was a dock-side labourer, and work had been very slack of late. 'it's aw' right,' said chippy. 'don't worry, mother. i'm off up the town now, to look for another job. i seen two cards out th' other day in main street, "boy wanted." i only come in now to mend me britches.' when mr. blades flung chippy out, the raven had fallen on one knee, and his trouser had split clean across. he now purposed to cobble up the rent before he started on his quest for the precious work which means the right to live. he found a needle and some thread, took off his trousers, and stitched busily away, for he was very handy with his fingers: his mother, too, had no time for such work; she had got a washing job, and was hard at it to help the family funds. as chippy stitched, his cheerfulness returned. soon he was whistling in real earnest. 'i'm goin' in for a rise,' he announced. 'i've picked up a lot at old blades' place. i'm goin' to ask five bob.' 'what made him sack yer?' asked his mother. 'oh, i didn't suit,' said chippy hastily. 'an' i done my best, too.' he made haste to be off on his quest, for he was not anxious to disclose why he had been sacked: in skinner's hole the reason would sound too fantastic to be easily accepted. chapter xix a brother scout to the rescue nearly a fortnight passed, and one dull afternoon a very discouraged raven was perched on a capstan at the edge of quay flat. chippy had tramped the town end to end and street by street in search of those cards marked 'boy wanted,' and had found none, or had failed to get the place. there was so small a number of them, too. he was reflecting that when he had been in a job he had seen two or three in a day as he traversed the town; he was quite sure of it. now they seemed to have vanished, or, when he lighted on one, it meant nothing. the people had just got a boy, and had forgotten to take the card down. suddenly he was hailed from behind. he glanced round, leapt down, and came promptly to the full salute, which was promptly met by his brother patrol-leader. 'hallo, chippy!' said dick. 'got a holiday?' 'got nuthin' else,' said chippy. 'how's that?' asked dick. 'i thought you went to work.' 'so i did--once,' murmured chippy; it seemed a hundred years since he was pleasantly engaged in the task of earning the substantial sum of four-and-sixpence a week. dick looked at his comrade, whom he had not seen since that eventful afternoon on the heath. chippy was thinner and whiter: dick saw it, and asked him if he had been ill. they got into talk, and before long dick learned about mr. blades, and the manner in which the raven leader lost his job. 'what a jolly shame, chippy!' burst out dick. 'that's altogether too bad. sacked you because you wouldn't be a sneak and break your scout's oath! and you haven't found anything else?' 'nuthin' straight,' replied chippy. 'i could soon get a job on the crook.' 'on the crook?' repeated dick; 'that means dishonest, doesn't it, chippy?' chippy nodded, and went on: 'there's a chap as lives in peel's yard down in skinner's 'ole, he's been arter me two or three times. he's a bad un, i can tell yer. he wants me to goo wi' him a-nickin'.' 'what's that, chippy?' asked dick. 'stealin' money out o' shop-tills,' replied chippy. 'he keeps on a-tellin' me as we could make pounds a day at it, if i'd on'y let him train me a bit.' 'oh, but you'd never, never do that!' cried dick. 'no fear,' returned the raven. 'i told 'im straight he was on the wrong lay. "yer wastin' yer breath," i told 'im. "a boy scout don't goo a-nickin'."' 'not likely,' said dick. 'oh, you'll soon find a job, chippy, i'm sure.' 'it 'ud suit me uncommon to come acrost one,' murmured chippy. 'four-an'-six a wick wor' very useful, i can tell yer, at our 'ouse. theer's some kids, an' they eat such a lot, kids do.' chippy fell silent, and dick kicked thoughtfully at the capstan for a few seconds. then he whirled round on his heel, saluted, and said, 'well, i'm off.' 'why, you're goin' straight back!' cried chippy, returning the salute. 'yes, chippy, old boy,' said dick. 'i'm going straight back.' he had been coming from the town, and he now returned to it at a swift step. on he went, head back, shoulders square, walking as a scout should walk, until he reached broad row, the street where the great shipping firms had their offices, and here he paused before a fine building, whose huge polished brass plate bore the inscription of elliott brothers and co. the elliott brothers were dick's father and his uncle jim, and before going in dick paused for a moment and bit his lip. 'it's a business job i'm after,' said dick to himself, 'and i'll carry it out in a business style. i don't want father to make a joke of it; it's no joke to poor old chippy--anybody can see that with half an eye.' so dick dived into his pocket and fetched out a dozen things before he lighted on what he wanted--a small leathern case with a dozen cards in it. in the centre of the card appeared 'dick elliott,' neatly printed; while in the corner, in quaint old english lettering, was his address, 'the croft, birchfields,' being the names of the house and suburb in which he lived. the card was his own achievement, produced on his own model printing-press, and he was rather proud of it. he entered the inquiry office on the ground-floor, and the clerk in charge came forward with a smile. 'i say, bailey,' said dick, 'you might take this up to my father, will you?' the clerk took the card, looked at it, and then at dick, and went without a word; but his smile was now a grin. in a short time he came back, and murmured, 'this way, please,' and dick followed, very serious and thoughtful, and in no wise responding to bailey's unending grin. dick was shown into the room of the senior partner, who was looking at his visitor's card, and now glanced up with a humorous twirl of his eye. 'ah, mr. elliott,' he said--'mr. dick elliott, i think'--glancing at the card again. 'pleased to meet you, mr. elliott. won't you sit down? and now what can i do for you?' 'i have called upon you, sir,' said dick, 'in the hopes of enlisting your sympathy on behalf of a worthy object and a noble cause.' dick had collared this opening from the heading of a subscription-list, and he thought it sounded stunning. he felt sure it would impress the senior partner. it did: that gentleman's emotion was deep; he only kept it within bounds by biting his lips hard. 'ah, mr. elliott,' he said, 'you are, i suppose, in quest of a donation?' 'well, not exactly,' replied mr. elliott; 'i should like to tell you a little story.' 'charmed,' murmured the senior partner; 'but i hope it will be a little story, mr. elliott, as i and my partner are due very shortly at an important meeting of dock directors.' dick plunged at once into his narration, and the senior partner listened attentively, without putting in a single word. 'i see, mr. elliott--i see,' he remarked, when dick had made an end of the story of chippy's troubles; 'you are in search of a post for your friend?' 'i should be uncommonly glad to find him something,' murmured dick. 'i'm afraid you've come to the wrong person, mr. elliott,' said the shipowner. 'i believe there are some small fry of that kind about the place who fetch parcels from the docks, and that kind of thing, but i really don't concern myself with their appointment--if i may use so important a word--or their dismissals. all those minutiae are in the care of mr. malins, the manager.' 'oh, father, don't put me off with mr. malins!' burst out dick, forgetting his character for a moment in his anxiety. 'i want you to lend me a hand, so as to make it dead sure.' 'well, mr. elliott, you're very pressing,' remarked the senior partner. 'i'll make a note of it, and see what can be done.' 'i'm very much obliged indeed,' murmured mr. elliott. 'may i ask your friend's name?' 'slynn,' replied dick. 'christian name?' 'i never heard it,' said dick, rubbing his forehead. 'they call him chippy.' 'thank you,' said the senior partner, pencilling a note on his engagement-pad; 'then i am to use my best efforts to find a post for mr. chippy slynn, errand-boy. well, it's the first time i've made such a venture; it will have, at any rate, the agreeable element of novelty. and now i must beg you to excuse me: i fear my junior partner is waiting for me.' 'that's all right, sir,' said dick cheerfully. 'uncle jim won't mind. he knows chippy.' and forthwith dick departed, quite content with the interview. chapter xx the opinions of an instructor as dick's father and uncle walked towards the docks, the former related with much relish how dick had gone to work to do his friend a good turn, and the two gentlemen laughed over dick's serious way of tackling the question. then mr. elliott began to speak soberly. 'he seems very friendly with this boy slynn,' said dick's lather. 'naturally, after the splendid piece of work they did together the other monday,' replied the younger man. 'oh yes, yes, of course; that, i admit, would be bound to draw them together,' said the other. 'but do you think it is quite safe, jim, this mingling of boys from decent homes with gutter-sparrows?' 'dick will come to no harm with chippy slynn,' replied james elliott quietly; 'the boy is quite brave, quite honest.' 'i don't know,' said mr. elliott uneasily. 'his mother was very uncomfortable when dick and his sister had been out one day. ethel brought word home that dick and a wharf-rat had been chumming up together. his mother spoke to dick about it.' 'oh yes,' said his brother, 'and dick referred her to me, and i explained, and put matters straight.' 'i hardly know what to think about it,' said mr. elliott, and his tone was still uneasy. 'look here, richard,' said his brother, 'the feelings which i know are in your mind are the feelings which make such an immense gulf between class and class. now, confess that you are not quite comfortable because dick has a deep regard for a wharf-rat out of skinner's hole.' 'i confess it,' said mr. elliott frankly. 'exactly,' returned his brother; 'there is no saying more frequent on our lips than that we must look, not at the coat, but at the man inside it; but it remains a saying--it has little or no effect on our thoughts and actions. the rich look with suspicion on the poor; the poor repay that suspicion with hatred. this brings about jealousy and distrust between class and class, and gives rise to any amount of bad citizenship. i declare and i believe that if those who have would only try to understand the difficulties and the trials of those who have not, and would help them in a reasonable fashion--not with money; that's the poorest sort of help--we should see an immense advance in good citizenship.' 'and what is your ideal of good citizenship, old fellow?' asked mr. elliott. 'all for each, and each for all,' replied his brother. 'why, jim,' laughed the elder man, 'i never heard you break out in this style before. i never knew you set up for a social reformer.' 'oh,' said james elliott, smiling, 'i don't know that i claim any big title such as that. but, you know, i was in the colonies some eight or nine years, and i learned a good deal then that you stay-at-homes never pick up. out there a man has to stand on his own feet, while here he is often propped up with his father's money.' 'and that's true enough,' agreed the elder. 'well, then, jim, you think this scouting movement is of real service?' 'i am convinced of it,' said the other. 'even in our little circle it has thrown together a group of boys belonging to the middle classes and another group whose parents are the poorest sort of dock labourers. i have watched them closely, and the results are good, and nothing but good. i am delighted that i have been given the chance to have a hand in bringing about such results. what were their former relations? they used to shout insulting names at each other, and fight. that boyish enmity would have deepened and embittered itself into class hatred had it continued. but in their friendly patrol contests the boys have learned to know and like each other, and to respect each other's skill. take dick and chippy slynn. without this movement, dick would only have known the other as a wharf-rat who was formidable beyond ordinary in their feuds. now he knows him as a boy whose pluck and honesty command respect, and dick gives that respect, and liking with it. will they be class enemies when they are men? i think not. but i'll dry up. i am letting myself go into a regular sermon.' there was silence for a few moments, and they walked on. 'yes, jim,' said his brother at last, 'i must confess it had not struck me just as you put it. there's a great deal of truth in your view.' that night dick was crossing the hall, when he heard his father's latch-key click in the door. 'ah,' said mr. elliott, as he stepped in, 'i fancy you're the gentleman who called on me this afternoon?' oh, father,' cried dick, running up to him, 'do tell me you've found something for poor old chippy. he's breaking his heart because he's out of work.' 'well, his heart needn't break any more,' said mr. elliott, putting his umbrella into the stand--'that is to say, if he can give satisfaction to mr. malins, who offers him a berth at seven shillings a week. i don't know if your friend was getting more, but mr. malins doesn't see his way any further.' 'he'll jump at it,' yelled dick. 'he was only getting four-and-six at blades, the fishmonger's. father, this is splendid of you. you're good all through.' 'almost up to a boy scout, eh?' chuckled mr. elliott. 'there, there, don't pull my arm off. i can't eat my dinner one-handed.' next morning dick ran down to skinner's hole before seven o'clock, to make sure of catching chippy before the latter set off on his search for a job. he was not a minute too soon, for he met chippy in the street. the raven had brushed his clothes and blacked his boots till they shone again, in order to produce a good effect on possible employers; but he looked rather pinched and wan, for victuals had been pretty scarce of late, and the kids, who ate a lot, had gone a long way towards clearing the board before chippy had a chance. 'it's all right, old chap,' sang out dick; 'no need to peg round on that weary drag to-day. here's a note my father has written. there's a job waiting for you up at our place.' 'no!' cried chippy, and shook like a leaf. it seemed too good to be true. 'yes,' laughed dick, 'unless you think the wages too small. they're going to offer you seven shillings a week.' chippy's eyes seemed ready to come out of his head. as for saying anything, that was impossible, for the simple reason that his throat was at present blocked up by a lump which felt as big as an apple. at last he pulled himself together, and began to stammer thanks. but dick would not listen to him. 'that's all right,' cried dick. 'i was bound to have a shot, you know. we're brother scouts, chippy, old boy--we're brother scouts.' chapter xxi chippy goes on scout duty chippy had been at work for elliott brothers rather more than a fortnight, when one day he went down to the waterside warehouse for some samples. the firm had a huge building at the farther end of quay flat, where they stored the goods they imported. he was told that he must wait awhile, and he filled up his time by some scout exercises, giving himself a long glance at a shelf, and then shutting his eyes and reciting from memory the various articles piled upon it. his eyes were still shut, when he heard voices. he opened them, and saw dick's father, the head of the firm, walking into the room, followed by the warehouse manager. 'this is a most extraordinary thing, white,' mr. elliott was saying. 'there's certainly a thief about the place, or someone is breaking in at night.' 'it's a most mysterious affair, sir,' replied white. 'the place was locked up as usual, and i unlocked everything myself. every padlock and fastening was in order, and no window had been tampered with.' 'yet there's a lot of valuable stuff gone,' said mr. elliott. white shook his head. he seemed utterly bewildered and unable to explain what had happened. 'i shall go to the police at once,' said mr. elliott. 'yes, sir; there's nothing else for it,' agreed the manager; and the two, who had been talking as they went through the great storeroom where chippy was waiting, passed out at a farther door, and disappeared. chippy left his practice, and fell into thought. things had been stolen from the warehouse. that was plain enough. the elliotts were being robbed. chippy was on fire in a moment. his friends and benefactors were being robbed. it was clear that mr. elliott meant to set the police to watch the place. chippy promised himself that a certain boy scout would also take a hand in the game. skinner's hole was close by, and his home was not four hundred yards from the warehouse. that would be convenient for keeping watch. that evening chippy ate his supper so slowly and thoughtfully that his mother asked him what was on his mind. 'it's all right about yer place, ain't it?' she asked anxiously. 'rather,' replied chippy, waking up and giving her a cheerful nod. 'this ain't a job like old blades's. do yer work, and yer all right at elliott brothers'.' 'yer seemed a-moonin' like,' said mrs. slynn. 'thinkin',' returned chippy briefly. 'i got a bit o' scoutin' to do to-night as 'ull keep me out pretty late, so don't get a-worryin', mother, an' sendin' people to see if i've dropped into the "old cut."' the old cut was a dangerous, unprotected creek, where more than one resident of skinner's hole had been drowned in darkness and fog, and its name was proverbial on local lips. 'tek care o' yerself, my boy,' said mrs. slynn. 'i don't know what i should do without yer.' chippy waved his hand with an air of lofty protection, and went on with his supper. towards ten o'clock he left the house, and went down a quiet byway to quay flat, and as soon as he got well on the flat and away from the gas-lamps, he could see little or nothing. but chippy had haunted the flat all his life, and could find his way across it blindfold. he headed steadily forward, and a few minutes brought him to the spot where the huge bulk of the warehouse buildings stood at the river's edge, black against the sky. he now commenced a stealthy patrol of the walks, every sense on the alert, and creeping along as softly as possible. the warehouse occupied an isolated position on the quay. the river front was now washed by only a few feet of water, for the tide was nearly out; but this side was only approachable by boat. a rude pavement of flag-stones ran round the other three sides, and along this pavement the raven meant to hold his patrol march. the march came to an end almost as soon as it had begun. chippy turned an angle of the walls, and pulled up dead. he could hear footsteps a short distance away. he flitted off to the shelter of a pile of rusty anchors and iron cables which he knew lay within twenty yards of where he stood. he found his cover, and crouched behind it. he had barely gained it when a flood of light swept the pavement he had just left, and heavy boots tramped forward. 'huh!' grunted chippy to himself, 'they've got a bobby on the job. no call for a boy scout here. i might as well be off home an' go to bed.' the policeman came forward, stood at the corner, and yawned; then he slowly paced forward on his beat once more. chippy waited twenty minutes, but the constable persistently haunted the warehouse walls; it was clear that they were the special object of his care to-night. 'it's old martin,' thought chippy, who had recognised the constable; 'he's gooin' to potter round all night. i'll get 'ome again.' martin disappeared round the farther angle of the walls, and chippy stood up to move softly away. but he did not move. he stood still listening intently. at the moment he straightened himself he felt certain that he heard a low chuckle somewhere behind him in the darkness. yes, there was someone there. now he caught the voices of men who conversed together in tones little above a whisper. chippy judged they were some twenty yards from him. next he heard stealthy sounds as they moved away. who were these people who had crept up so silently that the scout had heard nothing? chippy meant to find out, if possible, and already he had bent down, and his fingers were going like the wind as he whipped the laces out of the eyelets of his boots. off came the latter; off came his stockings. the stockings went into his pockets; the boots were tied together by their laces and slung round his neck, and away slipped chippy in search of the men who had laughed and whispered together. he had lost a few seconds in taking off his boots, and the sounds of their stealthy movements had died away. chippy dropped flat, and laid his ear to the ground. this gave him their direction at once, and, to his surprise, the sounds told him that they were going towards the river. that was odd. the quay edge was a very dangerous place on so dark a night as this, but these men were going down to it, and not across towards the town, as chippy had expected. the scout followed with the utmost caution--a caution which he redoubled as he drew near to the riverside. he would have thought little of going over the quay wall when the water was up, for that would only mean a ducking, and he could swim like a fish. but in some places patches of deep mud were laid bare at low tide, spots in which the finest swimmer would flounder, sink, and perish. chippy sought for a mooring-post, and was full of delight when his hands came against a huge oaken bole, scored with rope-marks and polished with long service. these stood in line along the quay some ten yards apart, and chippy worked from one to the other, and followed his men, who were still ahead, but moving very slowly. it was quite certain that the two in front knew the quay well, or they would not be here at this time. suddenly a match spurted, and a pipe was lighted. the men had come a good way now from the warehouse, and were quite out of sight of the constable. the light of the match showed the scout that there were two of them, and they had halted in lee of a fish-curing shed, now locked up for the night. the shed stood in a very lonely part of the quay, where no one ever went after nightfall. the men began to talk together, and chippy crept closer and closer until he could catch their words. 'laugh!' said one, as if in answer to a remark the scout had not caught--'who could help laughin'? to see old martin postin' up an' down, round an' round, just on the sides we want him to. if he started to swim up an' down t'other side, now, it might be a bit awkward for us.' 'ah,' replied his companion, 'it'll be a long time before they tumble to the idea of anybody workin' 'em from the river-front. how did ye get round to the trap this mornin'?' 'easy as winking,' said the first speaker. 'i made a little errand there, and slipped the bolts, and there it all was, as right as rain.' 'it's a clippin' dodge,' murmured the second man. 'we'll have another good go to-night, then leave it for two or three months till all's quiet again.' 'we will,' agreed the other. 'the boat's ready, i suppose?' 'yes; i've seen to all that,' was the answer. 'she's lyin' at ferryman's slip, just swingin' by her painter. it'll be slack water pretty soon. we can start in about half an hour or so.' chapter xxii chippy goes in chase chippy's heart beat high with excitement. it thumped against his ribs till he felt sure that the talkers a few yards away would hear it; and he turned and crept away, and circled round to the back of the fish-shed, where he pulled up to think over what he had heard. he felt sure that he had hit upon the thieves. what should he do? run to martin and tell him what he had found out? chippy considered that, then shook his head. he knew martin, and martin knew chippy. 'he'd ne'er believe me,' thought chippy. 'he'd think i was a-tryin' to kid 'im.' martin was a good, zealous officer, but rather a dull one, and chippy knew that he would be very slow to give any credit to a story brought him by a wharf-rat. and then, they were not the best of friends. chippy now entertained the most respectful regard for police-constables, for it was part of his duty; but it had not always been so. in his days of sin, before he became a boy scout, he had guyed and chaffed martin many a time and oft, and had exercised a diabolical ingenuity in tricks for his discomfiture. therefore a sudden appearance, springing out of the darkness as a supporter of law and order, might not be taken as it was meant, and chippy was quite shrewd enough to see that. and chippy was puzzled--he was tremendously puzzled. for the life of him, he could not see how two men in a boat were going to successfully attack the river-front of elliotts' warehouse, and he burned to discover their plan of assault. he shut his eyes, and saw clearly a mental picture of the building. chippy knew the riverside look of every building as well as he knew the back of his hand; he had spent scores and scores of summer days floating about in anything he could seize upon in the shape of a boat. well, he saw a broad, high wall, perfectly flat, turning a gable end to the wide stream, and in that wall he saw a number of windows and one large doorway, above which an arm carrying pulleys was thrust out. under this doorway barges came when the tide was up, and sank to the mud when it went down. boxes, bags, bales, were swung up to the doorway by pulley and chain, and so taken into the warehouse. but there was no landing-place of any kind; the wall ran sheer down to the mud. now, how were these men going to break in? and at low water, too! fifteen feet at least of oozy, slimy wall would stand up between the boat and the foot of the doorway; twenty feet to the nearest row of windows. chippy could not form any idea of their tactics, but he meant to discover them before long. 'well, i got to move a bit,' said the scout to himself. 'i'll 'ook it down to ferryman's, and get ready for 'em.' still on his bare feet, he slid like a shadow through the darkness, counted the mooring-posts as he went, in order to get his bearings, found the head of the steps running down to the spot he sought, and at the next instant his feet were treading the rough stones of ferryman's slip. here close beside the water it was not quite so dark; the heavy clouds had broken in the west, and the stars were coming out. in their faint gleam chippy caught the shine of the oily swells as the water lapped gently against the wharf. there was always water beside ferryman's slip at every state of the tide, and chippy knew that a bunch of boats would certainly be moored off the boat-builder's yard at the top end of the slip. he went up there, and saw their dark forms on the water. he could step into the nearest, and in a moment he was climbing from one to the other with all the sureness of a born waterman, searching for what he wanted. luck favoured him: he found it on the outside of a bunch, where he had only to slip the knot of a cord to set it free. it was a little broad boat, blunt in the bows, wide in the stern, the sort of boat you can sit on the side of without oversetting, and very suitable for chippy's purpose this night. now chippy scratched his jaw thoughtfully. there was the boat, but oars and rowlocks were safely locked up in the builder's shed. this would have stumped some people, but not chippy. often and often he had been able to get hold of a boat, but nothing else. he was quite familiar with the task of rigging up something to take the place of an oar. he hopped across the boats, gained the shore, and sought the boat-builder's shed. around such a place lie piles of planks, broken thwarts, broken oars, odds and ends of every kind relating to boats, new or old. chippy knew the shed, and sought the back. 'old clayson used to chuck a lot o' stuff at the back 'ere,' thought chippy. 'i wish i durst strike a match, but that 'ud never do. they might see it.' so he groped and groped with his hands, and could hardly restrain a yell of delight when his fingers dropped on a smooth surface, broken by one sharp rib running down the centre. 'a sweep!' chippy cried to himself joyously--'an old sweep! now, if theer's on'y a bit o' handle to it, i'm right.' with the utmost caution he drew the broken sweep from the pile of odds and ends where it lay. yes, there was a piece of handle, and chippy made at once for his boat, carrying his prize with him. an oar would have suited him much better, but beggars must not be choosers. the fragment of the sweep was heavy and clumsy, but in chippy's skilled hands it could be made to do its work. these preparations had taken some time, and chippy was about to try his piece of sweep in the scull-notch in the stern when he paused and crouched perfectly still on the thwart. they were coming. he heard movements on the stone stairs which ran down to the river. the scout put his head over the side of the boat and listened. water carries sound as nothing else does, and he heard them get into their boat very cautiously, slip oars into rowlocks, and paddle gently away. there was no dip or splash from the oars. 'muffled 'em,' said chippy to himself. he gave them a couple of minutes to get clear out into the river from the side channel which washed the slip; then he prepared to follow. he untied the painter, pushed his boat clear of its companions, slipped his sweep over the stern, and began to scull down the channel without a sound, his practised hands working the boat on by the sweep as silently and smoothly as a fish glides forward by the strokes of its tail. the little skiff slipped out on to the broad bosom of the river, and chippy looked eagerly ahead. he saw his men at once. they were paddling gently down-stream close inshore. at this point the river ran due west, ran towards the quarter of the sky now bright with stars. against this brightness chippy saw the dark mass of boat and men. he glanced over his shoulder. the east remained black, its covering of cloud unbroken, and chippy felt the joy of the scout who follows steadily, and knows that he himself is unseen. the boat ahead went much faster than chippy's little tub, but he let them go, and sculled easily forward; he knew where to find them. as they approached elliotts' warehouse, a great cloud drew swiftly over the west, and the scout completely lost sight of the other boat. but the darkness was short. within a few minutes the cloud passed as swiftly as it had come, and the surface of the river was once more pallid in the starshine. chippy saw the great bulk of the warehouse emerge from the gloom; he saw the level plain of water, now smooth at this time of dead-slack, and he expected to see the boat, but he did not. he brought up his skiff with a sharp turn of the sweep, and rubbed his eyes, and looked, and looked again. he saw nothing. the boat had vanished. it was not lying off the warehouse; of that he was quite sure. he was so placed, fairly close inshore, that his eye swept every inch of water along the front of the building. no boat was there. chapter xxiii the old water-gate this was very mysterious. chippy could not make out what had happened. the boat had not sunk. had it done so, the men would never have gone down without a sound. the scout thought a moment, then seized his sweep, and drove his skiff square across the river. had the men gone out towards the middle? but chippy opened fresh sweeps of the starlit stream, and all empty. save for himself, there did not seem to be a single floating thing in the neighbourhood. now, in working across, chippy had also gone down with the stream, so that by the time he was well out he had gained a point directly in front of the warehouse. he glanced towards the dark mass at the water's edge, and started. a pin-point of light flashed out at its base far below window or doorway. the light burned steadily for a few seconds, then went out as suddenly as it appeared. 'looks to me as if some'dy struck a match over theer,' reflected chippy. 'but who? the water looked empty enough. i'll have a look.' he worked his boat round, and drove it steadily towards the great building, shaping his course a little upstream, in order to bring himself above it once more. he watched closely as he sculled, and when he checked his way not ten yards from the bank he was quite certain of two things: he had not seen the light again, and he had not seen any boat leave the front of the warehouse. he let himself drift slowly down, staring and staring, and full of wonder. his eyes were now so used to the starshine on the river that he could see the water in front of the building like a smooth, pale plain, and it was empty--it was perfectly empty. who had struck that light about the water-level? it was all very strange and mysterious. chippy let his craft drift. it moved slowly on the slow-running stream, but presently it was under the shadow of the lofty wall, and as it slid along, chippy looked out more sharply than ever for the source of that strange light. he stood in the stern of the boat drifting down in complete silence, with not even the gurgle of the sweep to betray his presence. and to this complete silence chippy owed the discovery which he made about midway of the river-front. he was staring straight at the blackness of the wall, when suddenly a light appeared in it. to his immense surprise, he found himself looking up a kind of long, arched tunnel, at whose farther end a man stood in a boat, a light in his hand. only for an instant did chippy behold this strange vision. his skiff drifted on, and he was faced once more by the darkness of the solid wall. chippy drew a deep breath, dug his sweep into the water, and sculled rather more than half a circle. this brought him opposite the mouth of the tunnel, but well out from the wall. 'that's wheer they'd slipped in,' reflected chippy. 'theer's the light again. wot does it all mean? i never heerd o' that hole afore.' chippy was puzzled because he did not know the history of elliotts' warehouse. it was a fairly old building, having been erected about the middle of the eighteenth century. its basement had been pierced by a water-gate, which gave small barges direct entrance to the building, their contents being raised to the floor above through a large trap-door. but in the course of time, and under the influence of great floods, the river scoured out its bed in such fashion as to alter its depth against the wall of the warehouse, and largely to block the water-gate with mud. sooner than undertake the expense of dredging in order to keep the water-gate open, the owners abandoned its use, and knocked a doorway in the front, and hauled up from the barges as they lay outside. but on a very low tide it was possible yet to pole a small boat up the old water-gate, and gain the trap-door, which still existed, though unused, and almost unknown to the present generation of workers in the warehouse. it took the scout a very short time to make up his mind. he was soon sculling for the mouth of the archway, which, now he knew where to look for it, could be made out as a darker patch in the dusk of the wall. with the utmost care chippy laid the blunt nose of his craft square in the middle of the archway, and sculled very gently up. the air was thick and close and damp, but a slight current set towards him. he felt it blowing on his face, and knew that there was some opening at the top of this strange passage. he only went a short distance up, then checked his way, and his boat floated quite still on the quiet water of this hidden entrance. ten minutes passed, and then chippy heard a voice. 'that's as much as we can shift to-night,' it said; and a second voice said: 'all right; drop a glim on the boat.' at the next moment a strong shaft of light darted downwards into the darkness, and lighted up an empty boat floating within five yards of chippy. luckily for the latter, the light came from a dark lantern, whose slide had been turned, and was only a brilliant circle which did not discover the daring scout. chippy held his breath, and watched. he saw that aloft the light was pouring through an oblong opening; the latter was formed by the raising of one of the two doors of the big trap. he had need to hold his breath; the smallest turn of the lantern would throw the light along the tunnel, and he would spring into full view of the thieves. his position would then be desperate, for escape was out of the question. they had only to drop into their boat and pursue, when his clumsy old broken sweep would prove no match for a pair of oars. so chippy held himself dead still, and watched with fascinated eyes the strong shaft of light pouring on the boat before him. presently a strongly corded bale slid into the light, and was lowered by a thin rope. the rope was tossed after it, and the same thing happened with three more bales; and then a pair of legs came into sight, and a man slid swiftly down a heavy rope which dangled above the boat. the man swung himself down, and dropped among the bales. chippy could not see his face, but the scout's eye saw the man's hand outstretched as he balanced himself with a sailor's skill in the swaying boat, and marked that the little finger was missing. 'i'll stow these, and then give ye a hand wi' the flap,' said the man in the boat. 'it'll never do to let it down wi' a bang, because of our friend outside.' and both of them chuckled. now was chippy's chance, while the men were busy with the task of closing the heavy flap with as little noise as possible. he had been standing with the sweep in his hand. he began, with the tiniest, the softest of strokes, to turn his boat round. but his discovery would have been certain had not the men been so busy with the task of reclosing the heavy trap. it fell into place with a soft thud, which echoed along the water-gate, and as it did so chippy glided into the open, and turned the nose of his craft down-stream. he now put out all his strength, sculled a dozen hard, swift strokes, then held his hand, and floated close beside the wall in the deep shadow. from this cover he saw the boat glide out and the men give way as they gained the open stream. they pulled out some distance, and so skilfully did they use the muffled oars that chippy scarce caught a sound. 'rullocks muffled, too,' thought the scout; and very likely the thieves had muffled the rowlocks also. chapter xxiv on board the 'three spires' when the boat was well out from the shore its nose was turned, and it began to drop at an easy pace down the river. in cover of the bank chippy was sculling his best. he had seen how the warehouse was robbed; he meant to see where the plunder was taken. beyond elliotts' warehouse there were only two or three scattered buildings, and then the river-shore stretched away empty and deserted. for nearly a mile the men pulled steadily down, and left chippy a long way behind. but the night was brightening fast; the moon was coming up, and he could see the dark spot upon the water which meant the gliding boat laden with plunder. then the boat turned and came towards the shore on the scout's side. it crossed his line of sight, and disappeared as if into the bank. 'gone up fuller's creek,' said chippy to himself, and sculled harder than ever. fuller's creek was a wide, deep backwater, never used nowadays for any active purpose, though occasionally an old hulk was towed there, and left to rot. chippy supposed that his men had pulled up to the very top of the creek, where there was a deserted landing-stage, and he put all the strength of his wiry frame into driving his boat down to the creek and up it as hard as he could go. he entered the broad, dark water-mouth, for the moon was not yet shining into the creek, and sculled into its shadow. half-way up, a dark bulk loomed high in his path, and he swung the nose of his craft to port, to pass round the _three spires_, an old barquentine left to rot in fuller's creek out of the way of the river traffic. the _three spires_, named from the three chief churches of the town, whose steeples rose high above the roofs of bardon, was a broad, roomy old craft, and had carried many a good cargo in her time. but she was now past her work, and, her spars, rigging, and raffle all torn away, her hulk lay abandoned in fuller's creek, for the breakers-up did not want her. it was mere luck that chippy threw his skiff's nose over to port, for he was bearing straight for the three spires as she lay end on, and port or starboard was all one in point of distance as regarded sculling round her. but he threw his bow over to port, and thereby made a striking discovery. for beside the great bulk lay a small bulk, and the latter was a boat swinging to the shattered taffrail of the _three spires_ by her painter. chippy checked his way, and the two boats floated side by side on the quiet, dark backwater, with the hull of the deserted barquentine towering above them against the sky. chippy threw out a long breath of immense surprise. 'they ain't gone on to the stage,' he thought. 'they're here. they're on this old un. this is their boat.' he heard movements on board the barquentine, and he sculled a few swift strokes which sent him forward under the thick shadow of her broad stern, where he checked her way again. the sounds were those of men who scrambled up her forward companion, and at the next moment chippy's cars told him that they had approached the side of the teasel, and one was swinging himself into the boat. 'this is the last,' he heard a voice say. 'we'll get it down, and have a look at what you've picked out this time.' 'one knows what's in the bundles; t'other don't,' reflected chippy. 'they mean to open 'em. that'll keep 'em busy a bit.' he waited until his ears assured him that the men had gone down the companion again, then sculled back to the point where their boat floated below the port taffrail. this was the only point at which the deck of the vessel could be gained. the _three spires_ lay on the mud, heeled over to port, and everywhere else her sides were high, smooth, and unclimbable. and now chippy made a mistake--a great scouting mistake: he did too much; and the scout who does too much blunders just as surely as he who does too little. had chippy sculled quietly away with the ample information he had already gained, the thieves might have been taken red-handed. but he burned to put, as he thought, a finishing touch to his night's work. he wanted to see what was going on in the forepeak of the _three spires_, and he wanted to see the faces of the men; it was almost certain that he would recognise people so familiar with quay flat and elliotts' warehouse. he took the painter of his tiny craft, and threw two easy half-hitches round the painter of the large boat. he could cast his rope loose in a second, and it would be ample hold to keep his craft from drifting away. he laid the sweep where it would be ready to his hand if he had to make a rush, then swung himself up to the taffrail by the rope which the thieves had fastened there for their own use. 'they're forward,' murmured chippy to himself, and crept without a sound along the slanting deck. his stockings were still in his pockets; his boots he had left in the skiff. the companion-hatch was broken, and the men had gone up and down through the hole which yawned above the steps. to this gap chippy crept, and thrust his head forward inch by inch until he was looking into the deserted forecastle. he saw the men at once. they were almost directly beneath him, kneeling on the floor, while one was deftly slipping the cord which bound one of the stolen bales. chippy scarcely dared to breathe when he saw how close he was to the thieves. 'if i could only get a look at 'em, i'd 'ook it,' he thought to himself, and waited for their faces to be shown in the shine of the lantern, whose slide was partly turned to give them light. but one held the lantern while the other opened the bale, and the light showed no more of them than the worker's hands, the latter tattooed like those of a seaman. suddenly the scene changed with magic swiftness, and the pursuer became the pursued. it happened simply enough. the man unfolding the bale asked his companion a question. his voice was pitched in so low a murmur that chippy did not catch what was said, but he heard the second man's reply. 'no, i 'ain't got it,' said he who held the lantern. 'then we've left it in the boat,' rejoined the first speaker in louder tones; and he sprang to his feet and shot up the crazy steps of the companion as nimbly as a cat. it was so swift, so sudden, that the man was out on the deck before the scout, stretched at full length beside the companion-hatch, could get to his feet. the man slipped along the deck as smartly as he had swarmed up the companion, and chippy was clean cut on from his boat. what could he do? nothing but sit tight and hope that his boat would not be discovered in the gloom of the barquentine's shadow. vain hope. scarce had it been formed than a savage growl of anger and surprise broke the silence. his boat was discovered. the man below heard his companion's cry. the dullest would have read warning in it. he leapt to his feet, and bounded up the companion in turn. 'anything wrong?' he called in low tones. 'here's another boat,' said the other. 'another boat!' murmured the second thief, and scrambled swiftly along the deck, and thrust his head over the side. the two men were thunderstruck. a second boat! that meant someone abroad of whose presence they had not dreamed. 'was it there when we came?' asked the second man. 'not it,' replied the discoverer; 'the painter's made fast round ours.' 'then, whoever came in that boat is aboard now,' went on his companion, 'an' we've been spied on an' followed.' 'it's a little boat. there can only be one,' said the other. 'stand by the boat,' said the man aboard. 'i'll settle the spy.' and he clinched his words with a dreadful oath. 'don't go too far,' said the man in the boat, who was a more timorous fellow. 'too far!' growled the other. 'it's sink or swim with us now. there's somebody on this old barky as is fly to our little game, an' his mouth has got to be stopped. wait; stave his boat in, and you keep in ours. stave it in now while i'm here. he won't run away.' and again the desperate thief broke into a volley of savage imprecations. chippy had heard all this, and recognised how true was the last assertion of the infuriated rogue. there was no running away from the barquentine. no prison surer while his boat was in their hands. and at the next moment there was a crash of boat-hook on wooden plank. three blows were struck. the little boat was not new, and its timbers gave easily. three planks were staved in; it filled and sank. 'it's gone,' said the man in the boat; and his companion turned to search for him who had approached the barquentine in it. chippy had left the companion and darted forward while they talked. the sounds of the planks going in his boat told him that his case was desperate; his retreat was cut off. he found the stump of the foremast, and crouched behind it, and lay still. twice the man in search of him crept round the vessel in the darkness, and chippy shifted noiselessly from side to side as he passed. there were movements aft, and suddenly a flood of light streamed along the deck. the searcher had fetched up the lantern, regardless of the chances of the light being seen ashore, and flung its full blaze forward. the slide was turned at the lucky moment for the rogue who held it. chippy stood beside the foremast, one hand laid on it, his head bent and listening for any sound. the ring of light fell full upon him, and the desperate ruffian gave a growl of satisfaction when he saw his prey. chapter xxv a narrow shave 'it's a kid--a cheeky kid,' he cried in low, savage tones. 'i'll soon settle him.' 'p'raps he'll keep quiet. ask him if he'll swear to say nothin'?' called out the man in the boat, his tones low and eager. 'shut up!' snarled the other; 'as if any kid could keep quiet! i ain't a-goin' to do time for the likes of him. not me! i'll chuck him into the hold.' and he clinched his words with another stream of fierce imprecations. he scrambled towards the spot where chippy stood as fast as his feet could carry him. the scout knew that he was in great danger; his acquaintance with longshore folk was extensive, and he knew that among them were to be found a few ruffians and thieves as desperate as any alive--men who would not value a boy's life any more than a fly's, if it became necessary to their safety to take it. if he were seized, he would be knocked on the head, and his body flung into the hold of the _three spires_, into the deep muddy bilge which lay there, as safe a hiding-place for a crime as could be found. there was but one way of escape, and he turned to it at once. his boat had gone, but the river was still his refuge and way of release. he seized the broken taffrail, swung himself over it, let himself go, slid swiftly down the side, holding himself straight and stiff as a bar, and struck the water with his bare feet with less than a splash, with no more than a sharp _clunk_, and at the next instant was striking out with all his might for the side of the creek. the man creeping along the deck uttered a savage oath full of baffled fury as he saw chippy vanish over the side, and heard him enter the water; then scrambled swiftly back to the boat, and sprang in. 'he's jumped over,' he growled. 'pull round and after him. we'll get him yet.' 'p'raps he's drownded,' said the other. 'not him,' cried the fiercer thief; 'he didn't drop into the water like one as gets drownded. he's makin' off--that's what he's a-doin'. pull, i tell ye--pull!' they bent to the oars, and the skiff was driven at speed round the stranded hull of the barquentine. for his part, chippy was swimming as he had never swum before. he was lashing the water with all his might, swimming his favourite side-stroke, his fastest way of moving, now glancing at the dark mass which marked the side of the creek, now glancing behind to see if the boat pursued. in one thing he was very unlucky. he had struck straight away from the side over which he had slipped, the side upon which the boat was not lying, and was swimming into the moonlight which now bathed the farther side of the creek. he shot into the lighted space as the boat slid from under the shadow of the broad stern, and was seen at once. across the quiet water chippy heard the voice of his more dangerous foe: 'there he is! there he is!' cried the ruffian. 'pull, i tell ye--pull! we'll have him easy before he touches bank.' chippy looked ahead, and felt that there was horrible truth in this. stripped to the buff, he would have escaped without a doubt, for he could go through the water like a fish. but he was now fully clothed, and the water-sodden garments clung round him like a coating of lead, impeding his strokes, and cutting down his pace in cruel fashion. still, he fought gamely, putting out every effort to drive himself through the slow, dead water, and keeping his mind fixed on the shore ahead, and not on the boat darting after him under the propulsion of two powerful oarsmen. he wanted to look back, but he drove the feeling off. he knew it would not help his speed to mark how near his foes were, and he could, in any case, do nothing but swim--swim for his life. there is no more helpless creature in the world than the swimmer overtaken in the water. he can neither fight nor fly. his powers are needed to support himself, and, once disabled, the deadly water takes him into its murderous embrace. but, of a sudden, chippy was forced to mark the terrible danger which hung over him. 'pull straight ahead,' said a voice, which seemed almost in his ear. he turned his face, and his heart leapt in his side. the muffled rowlocks and sweeps had brought the boat almost full upon him in silence, and the ruffian who sought his life was springing into the bows armed with the boat-hook. the boy scout saw all this clearly in the moonlight--saw the second man pulling with a terrified face turned over his shoulder, saw the heavy, iron-shod pole swinging aloft to fall upon his head. he drew a long breath, and filled his lungs deeply. as he did so, the shadow of the bow fell upon him, and at that instant he dived like a water-hen. there was a tremendous splash just at his ear, and a heavy blow was dealt on his shoulder, driving him deeper still. he turned over on his back, and opened his eyes, for he had closed them at the instant of diving. he saw directly above him a dark mass, and knew that he was under the boat. it passed slowly on, and he rose, and his face came to the surface and was brushed by a rope. he seized the rope and hung on, and drew, cautiously, a deep breath. he looked round, and found that he had caught the painter as it dragged astern, and that the way of the boat was checked. then chippy heard a voice. 'pull round a bit,' it asid; 'we shall soon see if he rises again or no.' 'not he,' said another voice, which quavered. 'never! never! he'll ne'er rise again after that frightful crack you hit him. i shall hear it all my days.' the hardier ruffian chuckled. 'i did fetch him a good un,' he said--'a reg'lar oner. i felt the hook light on him. but pull, i tell ye--pull! there's no time for moanin' an' groanin' now.' chippy felt that way was being given to the boat, and he struck out softly with one arm and both feet in order that he should not drag on the boat and betray his presence. by the aid of the painter, he could keep his head low behind the broad stern, and quite out of sight of the two rogues in the boat. his shoulder ached where the boat-hook had fallen upon it, but the blow had not been disabling, for the force had been partly broken by the water. in one way, it was very lucky for the scout that he had received this sharp crack, for the thief who sought his life was now fully under the impression that the boy had been beaten under. this caused the two rogues to be less thorough in their search for a head showing above the water. the boat was gently paddled round the spot where chippy had disappeared, but the men did not move to and fro in the boat, glancing on every side. had they done so, the head bobbing along under the stern would have been discovered, and there would have been a short shrift for the daring scout. 'he'll never come up--never,' said the rower, his voice still unsteady; 'you stunned him, an' i've heard as anyone stunned will never rise again.' 'that's true,' said the ruffian, who still poised the boathook ready to deal a second blow if needful--'that's true, an' like enough he's gone down for good. anyhow, he's been under long enough for us to be sure he's settled. here, what are ye up to?' this question was addressed to his companion, who now dipped his oars deeply, and began to pull a strong stroke. 'i'm off ashore,' said the latter; and chippy could hear the fellow's teeth chattering as he spoke. 'i've had enough o' this. i'm goin' to get on the bank.' 'pull away, then, chicken-heart,' jeered his more brutal comrade. 'after all, the stuff's safely stowed away. there's no need to go back to the old barky.' the boat was steadily driven inshore, and at the stern chippy swam his hardest to take his weight off the painter and keep his head under cover. 'i got to look out,' said the cool scout to himself, 'or i'll get that boathook on my nut yet.' but once more fortune favoured the brave, and the boat slid into the deep shadow of the old landing-stage, and chippy was still undiscovered. no sooner did they enter the friendly dusk than chippy released the painter, and let himself float without movement. the boat pulled on a dozen yards to the stairs, and the scout swam gently to the shelter of a great pile. chippy now heard the rower fling down the oars and spring out of the boat, and rush up to the stage above. the second man poured a stream of jeers after his less resolute comrade, then sat down, took the oars, turned the boat, and pulled away down the creek, evidently bent on restoring the craft to its proper anchorage. the boat shot away and disappeared round the end of the stage, and chippy struck out for the stairs and crawled to land. he was by this time pretty exhausted, and he sat for a few minutes on the lowest step, to rest and draw a few easy breaths, while the water poured from him in streams. as soon as he had recovered a little, he sprang up the steps, and hurried homewards on his bare feet; for his boots were at the bottom of the river, and he considered himself a very lucky scout to think that he was not there beside them. chapter xxvi chippy makes his report the next morning chippy turned up at elliott brothers' prompt to time. he had had a big ducking, a rattle on his shoulder, and not much sleep; but he was as hard as nails, and looked none the worse for his adventure. he had also purchased a pair of boots from a pawn-shop in skinner's hole. they were not up to much, for one and sevenpence was the total sum the scout could raise; but they covered his feet in some sort of shape, and he could do no more. mr. malins set him to work to shake out and tie up a great heap of sacks in the basement, and when chippy had finished this task he went and took a peep at the clock in the church-tower at the end of the street. 'mr. elliott's in by now,' muttered the scout to himself, and he marched straight up to the office of the junior partner, and tapped at the door. 'come in,' called a voice; and in chippy went, and closed the door behind him. mr. elliott looked up from the morning letters, with which he was busy, and raised his eyebrows. 'well, slynn,' he said, 'and what may you want?' chippy stood up very straight, and saluted. 'come to report, sir, on the robbery at the warehouse.' 'what!' shouted mr. jim elliott, and his eyebrow went up higher than ever. 'went on scout, sir, last night, about ten,' began chippy, and then plunged into the recital of his adventures. he had no more than fairly started when the door whirled open once more, this time without any formality of tapping, and in burst the senior partner in a state of great excitement. 'jim, jim,' he called out, quite failing to notice that his brother was not alone, 'there's more stuff gone. the warehouse was broken into again last night, for all the police were on the watch. altogether a good seventy pounds' worth of goods have been stolen.' 'ah, yes, richard,' returned his brother. 'i'm just receiving a report on the matter from one of my scouts.' 'about the burglary,' cried the senior partner, knitting his brows in wonder and astonishment, and observing for the first time the bolt-upright figure of the raven, who promptly saluted. 'do you mean to say this boy knows something about it?' 'i fancy he does,' returned mr. james elliott. 'take a chair, and we'll hear what he's got to say. he'd only just begun his report as you came in.' the senior partner sat down, and stared at chippy with an expression of doubt and perplexity. 'but suppose we're just wasting time here, jim,' he expostulated. 'better hear what he's got to say,' said the instructor quietly; 'he's a good scout, and a good scout doesn't waste people's time. now. no. , raven patrol, go on with your report, and make it short and clear.' chippy went ahead at once, and for five minutes the two gentlemen listened in perfect silence to his husky voice as he ran swiftly over the points of his adventure. he stopped speaking, saluted, and stood at attention once more. 'never heard a more extraordinary narration in my life,' burst out the senior partner. 'it sounds incredible; the boy's been dreaming.' 'no, i think not,' replied his brother; 'or if he has, we can soon put his statement to the proof.' 'just what was in my mind,' said mr. elliott; 'we'll take him down to the warehouse at once, jim, and look into this.' a four-wheeler was called from the hackney stand near the church, and within a few minutes the two partners and the errand-boy were being driven to the waterside. at the gate of the warehouse yard they met mr. white, the manager. 'the thing's more mysterious than ever, mr. elliott,' cried the manager, 'here's inspector bird of the police; he's been all over the place, and he can't find any sign that a single fastening has been tampered with; and a constable was on patrol all night.' 'ah,' said the senior partner, 'have you looked at the trap which gives on the old water-gate, white?' 'old water-gate, sir!' cried white. 'what's that? i never heard of such a thing.' 'no, possibly not; it's been out of service for so many years,' replied mr. elliott; 'but it exists nevertheless, and we'll have a look at it.' at this moment they were joined by inspector bird, and after a few words between the police-officer and mr. elliott, the party of four men and the scout went in search of the trap, the senior partner leading the way with a lantern, for which he had asked, in his hand. at the farther end of the great storeroom a flight of winding stone steps led down into a huge cellar. mr. elliott went first, and threw the light of his lantern back to guide the others; for there was no hand-rail, and an ugly fall awaited anyone who might miss his footing. 'why, sir,' said white, 'we never use this place; it's too damp. i've only been down here once before in the five years i've been with you, and there's neither door nor window to it.' 'yes, white, there's a door,' replied mr. elliott; 'but it's in the floor, and that's what we're going to look at.' guided by the shine of the lantern, the party marched across the floor of the huge damp vault, and the senior partner paused beside a broad trap-door, and threw the light upon it. he gave a long, low whistle, and his brother said, 'ah, first point to slynn, richard.' 'it is, it is,' said the latter, after a pause--'it certainly is.' the trap-door was in two halves, meeting on a broad central bar slotted into the stones at either end. each half was secured by a couple of big iron bolts running into sockets fixed on the bar. the right half was firmly fastened; the left half was unfastened at this instant; the great bolts were drawn back, and the sockets were empty. the senior partner put his foot on the left flap. 'here you are, inspector,' he said. 'the thieves came in here.' and in a few words he explained about the old water-gate. 'then they had an accomplice inside, sir,' cried the inspector. 'yes, that's very certain,' replied mr. elliott. 'he drew the bolts before he left the warehouse for the night, but he hasn't been yet to replace them.' 'my word, sir!' burst out white, 'there's one man never turned up to work this morning--luke raper. can he have had anything to do with it?' 'is everyone else here?' asked the inspector. 'everyone,' returned white. 'then i'll send one of my men after raper at once,' said the police-officer. 'very good,' remarked mr. elliott; 'and while raper is being looked up, we'll go on the next step of our investigations.' he had already ordered a boat to be got ready at a stage near at hand, and thither went the two partners, chippy, and inspector bird. the manager was left at the warehouse to see that everyone employed about it stayed there until the police had finished their inquiries. the boat was rowed by a couple of watermen, and as soon as the party of four had taken their seats it was pulled down the river and up the creek to the spot where the derelict old barquentine lay. the first man on the _three spires_ was mr. james elliott. he scrambled down the companion, and raised a loud cry of surprise and pleasure. 'here they are!' he called out. 'here are the missing bales! slynn was right in every particular.' he was soon joined by the others, and again the senior partner indulged in his long, low whistle when he saw the missing goods neatly piled in a dry corner. 'as clever a hiding-place as ever i heard of!' cried inspector bird. 'no one would ever think of overhauling this old hulk. but there's your stuff, sir, all right.' the senior partner dropped his hand on chippy's shoulder. 'slynn,' he said, 'you are a brave, clever lad. i'll admit now that i could scarcely believe your story, but i am sure that you have spoken the truth in every particular. my brother and i are not only grateful to you for this recovery of our property, but you have done a service to every honest man about the warehouse. it ought not to be difficult now to trace the thief and remove all suspicion from straightforward men.' 'a very good piece of work indeed, no. ,' chimed in the instructor; then he turned to his brother. 'well, richard,' he said in quiet triumph, 'this is one up to the boy scouts, i think.' 'it is, jim,' returned the senior partner; 'there's no mistake about that. a movement which trains youngsters to be cool and level-headed in this fashion ought to be supported.' at this moment inspector bird, who had been searching the vessel generally, came back to the group below the companion. he had been given a general idea of chippy's work in the discovery of the stolen goods, and now he wished to question the scout. 'first thing,' he said, 'did you know either of the men?' 'no,' said chippy; 'i never saw their faces, and the only way i could spot one of 'em 'ud be becos he'd lost a finger.' 'lost a finger!' cried mr. jim elliott. 'why, luke raper's a finger short!' 'ah, ha!' said inspector bird; 'this begins to look like narrowing it down, gentlemen. it seems to me the sooner we have a talk to mr. luke raper, the better.' 'we'll go back to the warehouse,' said the senior partner, 'and see whether your man has drought raper up to the mark.' so back to the warehouse they went, leaving one of the watermen to guard the goods on the _three spires_ until they could be removed. but there was no luke raper at the warehouse, nor was he ever seen there again. the police found that he had vanished from his lodgings, leaving no clue whither he had gone, and he was never traced. chippy always felt certain that he was the timorous partner of the pair of thieves, and had fled because he feared implication in the murder which he believed had been committed. almost at the same time a wild, drunken longshoreman, known as spitfire bill--a name which his savage temper had earned for him--disappeared from the wharves of bardon river, and very possibly he was raper's accomplice. no one could say, for neither man was ever brought to book; but raper's guilt was certain, for every other man about the place could account for himself clearly, and none other than raper had a deformed hand. mr. elliott wished to give chippy a handsome reward, but the raven steadily refused to take it. 'can't be done,' was his reply. 'yer see, theer's law an' the back end o' law ; they'm dead agin it.' however, mr. elliott did something which filled chippy and his followers with immense delight. he rigged out the raven patrol, from their leader down to no. , in full khaki scout's rig, so that when they went out in friendly competition or on a scouting-run with their friends the wolves it was hard to say which patrol was the more smartly turned out. chapter xxvii dick's great plan no one was more delighted to hear of chippy's clever work in connection with the robbery than his fellow patrol-leader, dick elliott. part of dick's delight, if the truth must be told, was on his own account. 'now,' he said to himself, 'if i can only get permission to go myself, i ought to be sure of chippy as my companion for the week.' what did this mean? it meant that dick was turning over in his mind a splendid plan which he had formed for whitsun week, if only he could gain permission to carry it out. he was burning to go a real scouting journey--a journey upon which he would be cast upon his own resources, sleeping under the sky, or in a hay-loft or barn, and marching through the country, patrol staff in hand, taking what might come. he thought it would be splendid if he could set out on such a tramp with chippy for a companion; and surely, after chippy's splendid bit of work for the firm, it would be easy to beg for a week's holiday for him. the grammar school was always closed in whit-week for local reasons. the fine old building stood at one side of the wide market-place, and this place was the scene of a great annual fair--a fair as old as the town itself, and possibly older. in former days, when manners were ruder and rougher, the school had not been closed during whitsun fair, and traditions still existed among the schoolboys of wild pranks played by their predecessors among the booths and stalls. in this way enmity arose between the boys and the fair-folk--an ill-feeling which had more than once given rise to pitched battles and serious rioting, as the town records went to prove. so towards the close of the eighteenth century the practice arose of closing the school during the fair, and forbidding the boys to frequent the market-place. during the hundred years and more that had passed since then the fair had fallen off very much, but the whit-week holiday was still given at the school. dick's first move in the matter was to go to his uncle and lay the whole affair before him, including his hopes of having chippy as a companion. 'i don't see that you could come to much harm in a few days,' said his uncle, when dick had finished. 'i suppose you want me to back you up with your father and mother.' 'that's just it, uncle,' cried dick; 'if you'll only do that, i shall be awfully glad.' 'well, go ahead,' said his uncle; 'i'll do what i can for you.' even with his uncle's help dick had some difficulty in gaining his parents' consent. at last his father was struck with a brilliant idea, which he thought would settle the affair very neatly. 'we'll let him go, as he's so keen on it,' said mr. elliott to his wife; 'but we'll soon have him back. i've thought of a plan.' and he explained it. that evening dick was in the schoolroom busy with his lessons for the next day, when he was summoned to the study, where his father was sitting by the fire with the evening paper. 'well, dick,' said mr. elliott, 'about that scouting idea of yours, now.' 'oh, father,' burst out dick, 'i can go, can't i? and chippy as well? i'm sure you ought to be willing to spare him for a week.' 'perhaps, perhaps,' laughed mr. elliott; 'but wait a little. i'm going to put a plan before you, to take it or leave it. here it is: you shall start whit-monday morning, and i'll give you a couple of half-sovereigns. one will be for the expenses of yourself and your companion----' 'hooray! chippy's coming!' yelled dick. 'your companion on the road,' went on mr. elliott; 'and you must give me your word as a scout that you will not go outside that ten shillings for any expense whatsoever. the other half-sovereign is for your rail-fare home as soon as you are on your beam-ends--and that will be pretty soon, i shouldn't wonder. it will cover you up to sixty miles third-class, and you're not likely to get outside that radius on your feet.' 'and we can stay out till the ten shillings is gone, father?' cried dick. 'up till saturday night,' returned mr. elliott. 'you must be home again before sunday.' he chuckled as he said this, for he did not suppose for an instant that the scouts' trip would last more than a day or two. 'they'll soon run through a trifling sum like ten shillings,' he had said to his wife, 'and then, in honour bound, they must return.' dick gave his word joyfully, and returned to the schoolroom to gloat over the happy time ahead, when a pair of brother scouts would march out upon the world in search of adventure. the next day he sought out chippy, and imparted the glorious news. the raven's eyes glittered again at the thought of such a splendid time, and he entered into the romance of the thing with a zest even deeper than dick's own; for chippy's life had known little change and little real pleasure until the boy scouts' movement had claimed him for its own. 'we'll camp same as in the books,' cried chippy, his voice huskier than ever in his excitement; 'an' we'll practise them dodges o' cookin' the grub, so as we'll eat on the cheap. ten bob! why, ten bob! we'll goo fur on ten bob!' 'and it will be all right about your wages for the week, chippy,' said dick; 'i've settled about that with uncle jim. he laughed, and said he rather fancied the firm wouldn't grumble at that.' chippy smiled and nodded, and then the boys plunged into eager discussion of things they must do and master in order to be ready for this noble trip. chapter xxviii the scouts march forth at seven o'clock on whit-monday morning the sun's rays fell on the backs of two boys marching westwards from bardon at the scout's pace: dick and chippy were on the road. they were in full scout's uniform, and chippy, in his new rig, looked as smart as dick. their hats and shorts were of khaki shade, their shirts grey flannel, their neckerchiefs and shoulder-ties of their patrol colours, their coats rolled at their waists with spare socks and vests tucked away in the pockets, their haversacks slung over their shoulders. in their haversacks there was no food at present, for they had to purchase everything they would need from their precious ten shillings; but each carried a blanket which mrs. elliott had found for them. then chippy carried a tin billy--a present from their instructor--and dick bore, slung at his belt, a tiny axe, tomahawk shape, its head weighing fourteen ounces. this was intended for cutting wood; and, beside the axe, each had a strong, sharp jack-knife, with spring back, so that the blade could not close on the fingers. being patrol-leaders, each wore his badge on the front of his hat, and had a lanyard and whistle; and thus accoutred, with patrol staff in hand, they marched on their way. 'i hope it will keep fine, chippy,' said dick; 'we can't afford to pay money for lodgings. how long do you think we shall be able to keep going on our money--till the end of the week?' 'hope so,' replied chippy. 'i don't want to goo back till we're obliged.' 'nor do i,' cried dick. 'well, there's the last of bardon for a bit.' they looked back from a little ridge, and saw the spires of the town over a row of poplars. 'ta-ta, bardon,' said dick. 'we mean to have a look at newminster before we see you again.' 'we do,' grunted chippy. newminster was a famous cathedral city rather more than forty-five miles from bardon. to go there and back would mean a tramp of some ninety miles in the six days, and that would be a very fair achievement to carry out on ten shillings for all expenses. the boys talked over ways and means as they went on. 'we got to look out for everythin' we can pick up as 'ull help us,' said chippy. 'i see,' replied dick; 'we must try to live on the country. that would be real scout style, chippy. but it isn't a hostile country; we can't take anything.' 'no, no,' agreed chippy; 'no pinchin', o' course. still, theer's things to be had in places. fish, now--we could cop some fish in some rivers wheer it's free to put a line in.' 'i never thought of fishing,' said dick; 'that's a good idea. but we've got no rods or tackle.' chippy gave a chuckle, and dived a band into a pocket of his shorts. he drew out a hank of fine cord and a screw of paper. in the paper were half a dozen hooks on gut. 'that's all as we want,' he remarked. 'wait till we come acrost a river wheer there's suthin' to cop.' 'good for you, chippy,' laughed dick. 'a few fish will help us along in style. only we mustn't poach.' 'no, no,' said chippy; 'we'll play fair.' by eleven o'clock the boys had made, with occasional halts, just about eight miles, and both had the knot out of their neckties. dick had seen an old cottage woman labouring at her well, and had lent her a hand with the heavy bucket, and drawn all the water she would want for the day, while chippy had sprung forward to hold the pony of a lady who was visiting a sick woman in a cottage near by. in connection with chippy's good turn, a discussion arose between the two scouts as they marched on from the hamlet where these things had happened. the lady had offered chippy sixpence, and, of course, he had refused it. 'now, look 'ere,' said chippy; 'o' course, i didn't tek' the sixpence, becos the knot worn't out o' me neckerchief, an' the job worn't worth sixpence, nohow, an' we got to do all them sorts o' things for nuthin', by orders. but s'pose i did a job for some'dy as was really worth sixpence, an' i'd done me good turn that day, could i tek' the sixpence to help us along? it 'ud come in uncommon handy. an', besides that, we're allowed to earn money, though we mustn't beg it or tek' it for little trifles as we ought to do for nuthin'.' dick looked puzzled, and thought for a moment before he spoke. 'what you say is very true, chippy,' he said at last, 'and if you like to earn some money for scout work, why, that's all right. but i don't think we could use a single farthing of it for this trip. you see, we're bound to the ten shillings.' 'righto, wolf,' said the faithful raven; 'but if some'dy offered us a drink o' milk for a hand's turn, or summat like that, i s'pose there'd be no wrong theer?' 'no, i should think not,' replied dick. 'that would be living on the country in an honest sort of way, and on good scouting lines.' 'just so,' said his fellow scout. 'i don't mind a rap how it goes, as long as we understand one another. now we'll look out for a good place to mek' our fust halt.' at the general shop of the hamlet they had made their first purchases and broken into the ten shillings. they had bought enough flour to fill a ration-bag for sevenpence, two ounces of tea for twopence-halfpenny, a penny packet of baking-powder, half a pound of brown sugar for a penny farthing, and the old woman who kept the shop had thrown a lump of salt as big as dick's fist in for nothing. so they had spent elevenpence three-farthings, and their purchases were stowed away in the linen bags which dick and his sister had made ready for the trip. 'big hole in a bob for a start,' commented chippy; 'but we must stretch the stuff out.' 'oh, the flour will make us a heap of chupatties,' said dick. 'we'll get a lot more to eat for the money than if we'd spent it in bread.' 'rather,' said chippy, 'an' we'll want it, too. here's a spring. just the place to fill the billy.' he filled the big tin, and then they looked round for a spot to make a fire. fifty or sixty yards past the spring a grassy cart road turned aside from the track, and they went down it for a hundred yards till they reached a quiet sunny corner. chippy set the billy down, and both turned to and built a fire, at which they were now pretty expert. first they gathered a dozen handfuls of dried grass and made a little heap. over this heap they built a pyramid of dried twigs and tindery sticks gathered at the foot of the hedgerow. a match was set to the dried grass, and a little red flame sprang swiftly up and began to curl about the twigs and sticks. now the boys were busy scouting here and there for large sticks to pile again in a bigger pyramid above the burning heap, and in a corner where hedge-cuttings had been flung in the previous winter they found plenty of fuel. soon they had a capital fire, and the billy was put on to boil, while dick turned his hand to the chupatties. he unrolled his coat, and spread it on the ground with the lining upwards. upon the lining he made a heap of flour, and formed a hole in the centre with his hand. into this hole he poured hot water from the billy, and added a little salt and baking-powder. then he mixed the whole well together, kneading and working it with his hands, the latter sprinkled with flour to prevent the dough from sticking to his fingers. finally he had a couple of flat buns or cakes of dough. in the meantime chippy had been getting the fire ready. a good pile of red-hot wood ashes had gathered in the centre of the burning sticks. when the dough was ready these ashes were swept aside, and the cakes laid on the hot earth. then the ashes were piled round the cakes, and they were left to bake. when the chupatties were nearly baked, the billy was boiled up again, and some tea and a handful of sugar thrown into it. dick had cut a long skewer of wood to try the cakes, and he now pronounced them done. they were taken from the ashes and set to cool, while each scout fished a tin mug out of his haversack. soon they were seated at their first meal, a thousand times more happy than any two kings. chapter xxix winning a supper while they ate the chupatties with the relish gained by their morning's tramp, and washed them down with steaming hot tea, they looked over the map which dick had spread between them. 'here we are,' said dick, putting his finger on the very cartway itself, which was clearly shown in the capital map. chippy nodded. 'lemme see,' murmured the latter. 'wot's the best way to head arter this?' the two scouts were steering clear of all high-roads and beaten tracks. they were both agreed that there was no fun in tramping along under telegraph wires and in the dust of motor-cars. anyone could find his way where there was a row of milestones and finger-posts to keep him straight. they were marching purely by the map, following byways and narrow, hidden country lanes, and unfrequented tracks which led by moor and heath and common. there was another immense advantage, too, in moving by such routes. not merely was it excellent scouting practice, but it afforded them quiet places for camping. it is not easy to camp along a high-road: there are too many people about. no sooner does the smoke of the evening fire begin to rise than a squad of village loungers turn up to watch the preparations, or perhaps, worse still, someone in authority arrives, and forbids the campers to halt in that spot. 'lemme see,' murmured chippy again. 'here's a river; that's about seven mile again, as fur as i can mek' out.' dick measured the distance. 'just about seven miles,' he said. 'wot d'yer say to campin' pretty handy to it to-night?' went on chippy. 'so that you can try your hand on the fish, eh?' laughed dick. chippy nodded. 'all right,' said dick, 'we'll strike out for it. we shall have to do about two miles along a main, then we can branch off again, and get up to the river in very quiet country. see, there's hardly a house marked on the map.' 'all the better for mekin' a camp,' said chippy; and dick agreed. when they had finished their meal they lay in the sunshine, chatting and watching the fire die away. before they left they took care that every ember was extinguished, so that no harm could come to the place where they had made their halt. it was about two o'clock when they resumed their journey, and they moved at an easy pace, with the aim of reaching their camping-ground towards five. that would give them ample time to make their preparations for the night. until four o'clock the march was quite uneventful, then chippy had an adventure with a baker's cart. they were passing through a village whose street was spanned at one end by a railway bridge. near the bridge stood a cottage lying well back from the road, and as the scouts passed, a baker drove up, and went to the cottage with his basket on his arm. while he was at the door, a train whizzed up and thundered over the bridge, and the horse took fright and dashed away, galloping up behind the two boys. both of the latter began to run with all their might in the same direction as the horse, which soon caught them up. he was about to pass them on chippy's side when the raven flung aside his staff, and seized the shaft with his right hand, and thus was enabled for a few yards to keep an equal speed with the horse. then chippy gripped the near rein with his left hand and tugged with all his might. the terrified creature was not yet too wild with fear to fail to answer to the pull on the bit, and swung round to the left. in this way the scout managed to jam the frightened brute's head into the tall bank, and thus pulled it up. in dashed dick and seized the other rein, and between them the scouts held the horse until the baker ran up and helped them to secure it. the baker was profuse in his thanks--above all, when he had looked over the horse and cart, and found that neither was a penny the worse, thanks to the raven's clever manoeuvring. chippy scratched his jaw thoughtfully, then spoke up: 'd'ye reckon it's worth a loaf to ye--a big un?' 'a loaf!' cried the baker, 'it's worth every loaf i've got in the cart, and more, too. the mare might have broke her leg and the cart been smashed, and i gave three-and-twenty pound for the mare less 'n a fortnight ago.' 'we'll let it go at a loaf,' murmured chippy; and the baker picked out the best he could find and gave a thousand thanks with it. chippy put the loaf in his haversack, and the scouts trudged on. 'it'll stretch our flour out a bit,' said chippy, and dick grinned. 'after all, chippy,' he said, 'the loaf was well earned, and no mistake. i don't see that we're not playing fair by picking up things like that.' 'i don't see aught wrong in that,' replied the raven; 'that's living on the country in as straight a way as can be, i reckon.' beyond the village they climbed a rise to a ridge, and at the crown of the ascent they looked ahead, and saw a wide valley before them, with a shining stream winding its way through a green river-flat. 'there's the river, chippy,' said dick, 'and there goes the road up the side of the valley, turning away from the river.' he pointed to the white ribbon of dusty road which climbed a distant rise and disappeared. 'we'll mek' straight for the river,' said the raven. 'right,' said dick. 'cross-country it is;' and the boys struck away into the fields. they spent some time in reaching the river, for they carefully avoided crossing fields where grass was growing for hay, or where corn was green; but at last they were on its banks at a point where it wound across a big patch of rough common land, dotted by flumps of gorse and broken by two or three spinneys. the river was not wide, but it was slow, and seemed deep. the boys tried two or three places with their patrol staffs, and could not touch the bottom. then they started to prospect for a camping-ground for the night. 'how about under that little hanger?' said dick, pointing to a tiny wood which clung to a bank a short distance back from the river. 'looks all right,' rejoined chippy; and they went towards it. they were crossing a grassy strip between two clumps of furze when a small spiny creature with a sharp nose trundled across their path some distance ahead. chippy leapt out and darted in pursuit, his staff raised. dick followed, saw the staff fall, and came up to find the raven turning over a dead hedgehog with the point of his stick. 'supper for two,' chuckled chippy, 'an' a jolly good un.' 'supper?' cried dick, 'why, it's a hedgehog. who can eat a thing like that?' and he made a face of disgust. 'them as know's wot's good,' murmured chippy, with a cheerful wink. 'wait till ye've had a bit. besides, ain't we scouts? an' scouts ha' got to tackle anythin' an' everythin'. look wot it says in the books. look wot b.p. et at one time an' another.' 'you're right, old chap,' said dick; 'but just for a minute it seemed so jolly queer to knock over a spiny little brute like that, and then talk of eating it.' 'gipsies eat 'em reg'lar,' replied chippy, 'an' i know 'ow they handle 'em. they're good--i tell ye that.' carrying the hedgehog by a withe cut from a willow, the scouts went on to the ground below the hanger, and pronounced the spot first-rate for a camp. there was a sandy patch at the foot of the bank, and here they resolved to build their fire and sleep. chapter xxx the first camp the fire was taken in hand first thing, for chippy would need a great pile of red-hot embers for his cookery. the hanger was littered with dry sticks, so that there was no lack of material, and soon they had a rousing fire crackling on the sandy soil. at the foot of the hanger they met with a stroke of luck. they found a young beech-tree which had been blown down in some winter storm. it was now as dry as a bone and easy cutting, and dick went to work with the little axe, and soon cut and split a heap of logs some eight or ten inches long and three or four inches through--first-rate stuff, for no tree in the wood burns more sweetly than beech. while the fire was under way, and while dick hacked at the beech, chippy had gone in search of clay. he was gone soms time, for he did not hit on a clayey spot at once. but he worked along the bank of the stream where the wash of the water had laid bare the nature of the soil until he struck upon a seam of red clay, and dug out a mass with his knife and the point of his staff. he brought the clay to the fire, and next fetched a billy of water from the river, and worked the clay into a mass which would spread like stiff butter. now he took the hedgehog, opened it, and removed its inside. then he began to wrap it in a thick covering of the clay. 'aren't you going to skin it?' cried dick, who had been watching his brother scout's doings with deep interest. 'i am,' said chippy, 'but not now--leastways, it'll skin itself when the time comes.' soon chippy held in his hands a great ball of clay, inside which the hedgehog lay like a kernel in a nut. the fury of the fire had passed by now, and the small beech logs were heaped in a glowing mass of fiery embers. with a spare log chippy drew the embers aside, and laid his ball of clay on the heated ground, and raked the ashes into place again. 'now,' said he, 'when we're ready for supper, that theer 'ull be ready for us.' 'it doesn't look as if our supper was going to cost us much,' laughed dick. chippy looked up with his dry, quiet smile. 'as it's runnin' so cheap,' he said, 'we might goo in for suthin' extra. wot d'yer say to a drop o' milk in the tea?' 'where are we going to get it?' cried dick. 'when i was down theer'--and chippy jerked his head towards the river--'i seen a house acrost the fields. if ye'll turn me up a copper ot o' the cash-box i'll tek' a billy an' buy a pennorth.' dick laughed and turned out a penny, and away went chippy after the milk, while dick watched the fire and the haversacks they had piled beside it. while chippy was away an old man came up-stream whipping it with a fly-rod. the time of the evening rise was coming on, but very few circles broke the surface of the smoothly running river. dick went over and asked him what luck he had had. 'only two, an' them little uns,' said the old man. 'you see, this is a free stretch for about a couple o' miles, an' it gets fished a lot too much. there are some in it, an' big uns too, but they'm too wide awake to tek' the fly.' when chippy came back dick reported this. 'not much chance for you, old chap,' said dick; 'the old fellow had got a good fly-rod and fine gut, and he could do little or nothing, so it isn't likely we shall get trout for breakfast in the morning.' but chippy's calm was quite undisturbed. 'said as there wor' some about, an' big uns too, did he?' remarked the raven. 'that's good enough fer me. shouldn't wonder but wot i'll yank one or two on 'em out yet.' he set the billy down beside the fire, and dick cried out in wonder. 'by jingo, chippy, what a jolly lot of milk! you made that penny go a tremendous long way. you must have dropped across a good sort.' 'just wot i did,' rejoined the raven--'a stout old lady, with a heart to match the size of her waist;' and he flipped the penny back at the treasurer. 'and you've brought the penny back!' cried dick. 'wouldn't tek' it nohow,' replied the other; 'said i was kindly welcome.' 'why, we needn't make any tea,' said dick. 'just wot i thought,' remarked his companion; 'that's tea an' sugar saved at a bang. bread, milk, an' 'edgehog ought to fill us out aw' right this time. now, what about gettin' the bed ready afore we have supper? after supper i may be busy for a bit.' 'right you are,' said dick; and they turned to their first attempt of making a scout's bed. the farther end of the hanger was composed of a thick growth of larch-trees, and here there had been a fall of timber in the winter. two or three lots of logs had not yet been carried away, and the two scouts chose four logs of fairly suitable length for the framework of their couch, and pegged them into position. they could soon have chopped the logs to the right length, but they did not do so, for that would have been damaging other people's property, and no scout acts in such a way as to raise difficulties for those who may come after him. when the woodmen had felled the larches they had stripped off the branches and cut away the plumy tops with their axes, and heaps of branches and tops lay about among the remaining trees. with axe and knife the scouts cut great armfuls of the tips and carried them to the framework. here they laid them to overlap each other like the slates on a roof, as mr. elliott had shown them, and within an hour they had a dry, springy bed, upon which they flung themselves, and rolled in delight and kicked up their heels for a minute or two. 'one little job agen before supper,' said chippy, 'but it'll only be a short un. i want two or three minnows, an' i saw a place wheer they wor' swimmin' in hundreds.' the scouts ran down to the river, and chippy pointed to a shallow where a great shoal of the tiny fish were glancing to and fro, their sides glittering as they turned in the light of the setting sun. chippy throw himself flat on the bank, and very slowly and cautiously slipped his hand into the water. the minnows darted away, but soon returned, and the scout, with a swift, dexterous scoop, tossed a couple high and dry on the bank, where dick secured them. a second attempt only landed one, but it was a good-sized one, and chippy sprang to his feet. 'i reckon three 'ull be enough for now, an' we ain't supposed to catch more'n we can use. that's in the books. got 'em safe?' 'safe and sound,' replied dick. 'but we can't eat these tiny things, chippy.' 'not likely,' said the raven, 'but they'll make first-rate bait: that's wot i'm arter. now for supper.' 'i'm ready,' said dick. 'i'm as hungry as a wolf.' 'right thing for one o' your patrol,' chuckled chippy, and the boys laughed as they raced back to their camp. chippy opened the heap of ashes and drew out the ball of clay. very carefully he broke the clay open and disclosed the white flesh of the hedgehog, cooked to a turn, and smelling deliciously. 'where'e the skin?' cried dick; 'and i say, how good it smells!' 'skin's stuck fast in the clay wi' the prickles,' replied the raven. 'cut some chunks o' bread while i get it out.' dick took the loaf and cut some good slices with his knife, while his comrade dexterously divided the hedgehog into handy pieces. then they sat about their fire and made a glorious supper. the bread was good, the milk was sweet, the hedgehog's flesh was tender and toothsome. dick forgot all about his first dislike as he ate his share and applauded chippy's skill and cookery. chapter xxxi the big trout 'the light's going fast,' remarked dick, as supper was ending. 'so it is,' said chippy, 'and i ain't got a fishin'-rod yet.' he sprang to his feet and seized the tomahawk. 'where are you going to get one?' cried dick. 'handy by,' replied the raven, and marched to a thicket of hazels within thirty yards of the camp fire. dick heard one or two strokes of the little axe, and then chippy came back dragging a tall, straight hazel stem nine or ten feet long. he sat down, took his knife, and began to trim off the side branches. 'so that's your rod, is it?' said dick. 'jolly good un, too, for what i want,' returned chippy. 'ye'll soon see.' he trimmed the hazel and cut down the weaker end until he had a strong, pliant rod about eight feet long. next he unwound his hank of cord, tied one end round the rod a foot from the bottom, then wound the cord round the rod for its full length beyond, and tied it again at the top. in this way the whole spring and strength of the rod would be behind the cord, and aid it in its pull. 'no use just to fasten the line at the top,' commented chippy; 'if yer do, p'raps the top 'll break, an' then theer's yer line, hook, an' everythin' gone.' he opened his packet of hooks and took out a largish one, whose shank was covered smoothly with lead. 'i got these hooks from an old chap as lives close by us,' said chippy. 'he's a reg'lar dab 'and at fishin', an' i've been with him many a time to carry his basket an' things. he rigged me up wi' these when i told 'im about our trip, an' i know wot to do becos i've seen him at it often enough. now for the minnows.' chippy took the largest minnow, and, by the light of the fire, deftly worked it over the hook and lead until the latter was hidden in the body of the tiny fish. 'they call this the "pledge,"' he said, as he fastened the line into the loop of the gut; 'an' the way yer use it is the "sink-an'-draw" dodge. it's a sure kill, an' yer almost certain to get a big un.' 'but it's going darker and darker!' cried dick. 'dark's the time to use it,' replied his friend; 'that's when the big uns come out an' swim at the bottom o' some deep hole, an' wait for summat to show up atween them an' the sky.' the scouts now went down to the bank, where chippy had marked a likely-looking pool between two big hawthorn-bushes. they moved very softly, according to his orders, and when they gained the bank the weighted minnow was swung out, dropped into the water without a splash, and then lowered and raised slowly--the 'sink-and-draw' motion. for five minutes chippy worked steadily, and then he felt a sharp tug. in this style of fishing one strikes at once. chippy struck, and found he was fast in a fish. he could not play it, for he had no reel. nor is it safe to play under bushes in the dark. it is a case of land or smash, though a practised hand will land where a novice is certain to smash. chippy put a swift but even strain on the pliant rod, and swung his fish up and out. the line was strong, the gut was good, and the trout was well hooked. out it came, turning and tumbling on the grass, and dick pounced upon it, for its under sides showed gleams of silver in the faint light, and he could see it bounding. chippy took it from him, unhooked it, slipped his forefinger into the trout's mouth, and broke its neck with a dexterous jerk of finger and thumb. then he weighed it in his hand. 'not a big un,' he whispered; 'about half a pound. there ought to be more on 'em in this pool.' he examined the minnow, and found that by good luck the trout had done little or no damage to it, and it would serve another turn, so he went to work once more. several minutes passed, and then he had another bite, and again landed his fish, but it was a little smaller than the first. 'no big uns in this pool,' murmured chippy. 'theer's another good place about thirty yards up. we'll try that.' the minnow had been badly torn by the teeth of the second trout, so by the light of a couple of wax matches, struck one after the other by dick, chippy fixed a fresh bait on the leaded hook. then they went up to the second pool. 's'pose yer have a try here,' whispered chippy to dick. 'it's as easy as can be. ye must just let it down an' pull it up again, quiet an' easy. ye'll know soon enough when a fish lays hold on it. then give a little jerk to fasten th' 'ook in. next lug him right up, pullin' smooth an' steady wi'out givin' an inch. if yer do, he'll get away, most likely.' dick took the rod and let the minnow down into the smooth dark pool where stars were reflected between the shadows of overhanging branches. down and up, down and up, down and up, he lowered and raised the bait, many, many times, but there was no sign that the pool held a fish. he was about to whisper to chippy that it was useless to try longer, when there came a tremendous tug, which almost tore the hazel wand out of his grasp. he tightened his clutch convulsively, and in recovering the rod he struck the fish, for at the next moment the tug of a tightly hooked 'big un' shook him from head to foot. then there was a terrific splash at his feet, which caused his heart to jump into his mouth. the trout had leaped clean out of the water. 'pull up! pull up!' yelled chippy, and dick pulled. the fish was so firmly hooked that he was still there, and now the rod bent and twisted in dick's hands as if that, too, were alive and trying to free itself from his wild clutch. dick raised the fish slowly, for it felt tremendously heavy, and when he had it on the surface it kicked and wallowed till you might have thought a dog was splashing in the water. 'a good swing an' step back,' roared chippy. dick obeyed, and gave a big lift. he felt the hazel bend and tremble in his hands, then chippy pounced on something, and the rod was still. 'have we got it?' cried dick breathlessly, for he had felt sure that the trout was too strong for their tackle. 'got 'im,' snapped chippy in triumph, 'an' a good un, too. they say it's allus the new hands as get the best luck. we've got plenty now, an' it ain't allowed to tek' more'n we can eat.' this trout was far too big for chippy to kill with finger and thumb, so he whipped off his jacket, rolled the fish in it, and the two scouts hurried back to the camp fire. here chippy despatched the trout by a sharp tap behind its head, delivered with the handle of the tomahawk, and the boys gloated over their prize. it was a fine, short, hog-backed trout, weighing well over three pounds, and in the pink of condition. ''bout as much as anybody wants to lift out wi' a nut-stick,' commented chippy, while dick stared entranced at his glorious shining prize. 'time to turn in now, i shouldn't wonder,' said the raven, and the wolf looked at his watch. 'close upon ten,' said the latter. 'well, we've just about 'ad a day of it,' said his comrade. 'i'll bet we'll be off to sleep like a shot.' chapter xxxii terrors of the night it was not until they lay down and waited for sleep that the boys felt the oddness and queerness of this first night in the open. bustling round, making the fire, cooking, rigging up their camp, eating supper, fishing--all those things had kept at bay the silence and loneliness which now seemed to settle down upon them like a pall. they were quite comfortable. each was wrapped snugly in his blanket. the bed of larch-tips was dry and springy. the haversacks, stuffed with the smallest tips, formed capital pillows. yet sleep did not come at once. after a time dick spoke. 'listen to the river,' he said. 'rum, ain't it?' replied chippy. 'daytime it didn't seem to mek' no noise at all. now yer can't hear nothin' else.' the river, as a river always does, had found its voice in the dark: it purred and plashed, while over a shallow some distance below, its waters ran with a shrill babbling, and a steady roar, unheard by day, came up from a distant point where it thundered over a weir. 'good job we made a rattlin' fire afore we turned in,' remarked the raven; 'seems like comp'ny, don't it?' 'rather,' said dick; and both boys lay for a time watching the dancing gleams, as the good beech logs blazed up and threw the light of their flames into the depths of the hanger which rose above the camp. sleep came to dick without his knowing it, but his sleep had a rude awakening. he woke with the echo of a dreadful cry in his ears. for a moment he looked stupidly about, utterly at a loss to discover where he was. then the cry came again--a horrible, screaming cry--and he sat up, with his heart going nineteen to the dozen. 'chippy!' he cried, 'are you awake? what was that?' 'i dunno,' said the raven, sitting up too. 'but worn't it awful?' the cry came again, and the two boys, their heads still heavy with sleep, were filled with horror at its wild, wailing note. 'sounds like some'dy bein' murdered,' gasped chippy. 'an' the fire's gone. ain't it dark?' the fire had gone down, and was now no more than a heap of smouldering ashes. heavy clouds had drawn across the sky, and the darkness under the hanger was thick enough to cut with a knife. the two boys crouched together side by side and quaked. this was pretty frightful, to be roused in the dead dark time of the small hours by this horrible outcry. suddenly dick jumped. 'chippy!' he whispered breathlessly, '_there's someone about. i hear them._' both boys listened with strained ears, and caught distinctly the sound of light footfalls near at hand. '_theer's more'n one,_' gasped chippy. the gentle, creeping footfalls came nearer and nearer in the darkness. 'g-g-gimme the chopper!' whispered the raven, and his voice was shaking. 'i--i--i've got it,' replied dick; and his fingers were clenched with the grasp of despair round the smooth handle of the tomahawk. chippy drew his jack-knife, opened it, and gripped it in his left hand like a dagger. in his right he had seized his strong patrol staff. a sharp puff of wind blew along the foot of the slope. it fanned the embers of the dying fire, and a little flame ran up a twig, flickered for a moment, then died as suddenly as it had leapt up. but the boys were stiff with horror. it had shown them a strange dark form crouching within three or four yards of the opposite side of the heap of ashes. 'w-w-what is it?' said dick. 'i--i--i dunno,' replied chippy. another stronger puff of wind, and a little train of bright sparks shot into the air. now the boys saw two great gleaming eyes, low down, within a foot of the ground, like some creature crouching to spring, and again the awful wild cry rang out some little distance away. 'oh--oh--chippy!' gasped dick, 'i'm j-j-jolly frightened.' 's-s-same 'ere,' returned the raven. 'so i'm going b-b-bang at it, whatever it is.' 's-s-same 'ere,' muttered the raven, with chattering jaws. 'come on!' yelled dick; and the two scouts threw aside their blankets, bounded to their feet, and dashed at the monster in the dusk beyond the fire. chippy was nearer, and his patrol staff dealt the first blow. down it came with a thundering whack on something; then dick sailed in with the tomahawk. but he had no chance to put in his blow, for the creature was off and away, with a thud of galloping hoofs, and a terrific snort of surprise and alarm. twenty yards away it paused, and made the river-bank resound again--'hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw!' 'why, it's a confounded old jackass!' roared dick; and then the two boys burst into a peal of laughter almost as loud as the brays of the assaulted donkey. 'well, i'm blest!' said chippy, 'if that ain't a good un. the least i thought on wor' some tramps comin' to pinch all we'd got.' 'but what made that frightful noise?' asked dick, as they went back to the fire and began to pile fresh logs on from a heap which had been stacked away. 'i dunno,' replied his comrade; 'it wor' pretty rum. no jackass as ever lived 'ud mek' a row like that.' they sat for a while by the fire, which soon burned up cheerfully, and made the camp seem home-like at once. suddenly the wild cry broke out again, this time straight over their heads. the boys looked up quickly, and saw a bird flitting silently across the light of the merry blaze. 'theer it is!' cried chippy--'theer it is! a scritch-owl--naught else.' 'is that a screech-owl?' said dick. 'i've heard of a screech-owl many a time, but never heard its call. it's a jolly horrid sound.' 'ain't it?' rejoined chippy. 'wot between wakin' up sudden, and hearin' 'im 'oot, an' th' ole jackass a-cavortin' round, i was wellnigh frit out o' my senses.' dick laughed and poked the fire with a stick. the logs flared up, and the pleasant blaze was warm and comforting. he looked at his watch. 'it's just half-past two,' he said. 'fancy, chippy, half-past two in the morning, and we're sitting by a camp fire.' 'it's great,' said chippy; then he gave a tremendous yawn. 'feeling sleepy?' said dick. 'we'd better turn in again, i reckon,' said chippy, 'or we won't be fit to goo on our tramp again to-morrow.' dick nodded in agreement, and the boys added a few fresh pieces of wood to the fire, and rolled themselves up once more in their blankets. in a few moments they were soundly off to sleep again, and when they were wakened next time it was by the sun clearing the ridge and shining full upon them. chapter xxxiii the march resumed 'here's a jolly morning, chippy!' cried dick, unrolling himself from his blanket and springing to his feet. 'the sun's hot already. we're going to have another splendid day.' the raven sprang up in turn, and the scouts shook out their blankets, and tossed them across a furze-bush close at hand to air before they packed them away. the fire had burned down, but they soon revived it by tossing armfuls of their bed upon it, and in a couple of minutes the larch needles were crackling by thousands as the flames ran through the tindery tips. the logs were carried back, and carefully replaced on the heap from which they had been taken. next they went down to the river, stripped, plunged into the clear, cool stream, and swam about like a couple of young otters. there were no towels in the outfit, so when they came to land again they rubbed off as much water as they could with their handkerchiefs, and finished drying by turning about fifty catherine-wheels on a sunny patch of the bank. when they were dressed again, they were glowing with warmth, felt as fit as a fiddle, and were ravening for breakfast. 'what's the bill of fare, cook?' laughed dick. 'bread, tea, an' trout,' growled chippy, 'an' a nailin' good brekfus too. i wish as everybody 'ad got as good.' 'right for you, old boy,' replied dick; 'which trout shall we have?' 'yourn, the big un,' replied the raven. 'i'll show yer how to cook 'im proper.' the fire had burned away to the glowing embers which the camp cook loves, and chippy, having gutted the fish, broiled it in the hot ashes, while dick boiled water, and made the tea, and cut more slices from the loaf. then they attacked the broiled trout, and, big as it was, they made it look rather foolish before they had finished. the piece that was left chippy wrapped up in dock-leaves and stowed away in the haversack. 'come in handy next go,' he remarked. after breakfast they sat for an hour to see the fire out, and chippy took the line from the rod and put it away. then they got into marching trim again, took their staves in their hands, and set off up the valley. twice or thrice they looked back at the spot where they had made their first camp, but soon a spinney hid it from their view. 'good old spot,' said dick. 'i shall never forget it. it was a jolly good camp for a start, chippy.' 'yus,' agreed the raven, 'spite o' the jackass. theer he is.' there he was indeed, a placid brown-coated old donkey, cropping the grass on the common on which he had been turned out. the boys gave him a cheer, and the donkey, when he heard their shout, lifted his head and brayed long and sonorously, as if he understood all about it, and was eager to reply. tuesday morning's march was fairly uneventful. the comrades did quite a number of good turns for people, for, like good scouts, their eyes were always on the watch for anyone who needed a helping hand, and chippy commented on the number of chances which turned up. 'rum, ain't it?' he remarked; 'afore i wor a scout, i never used to twig how many chances there are o' lendin' a hand. i s'pose they wor' theer, only i ne'er seed 'em.' 'that's about it,' said dick. 'i've noticed just the same thing myself. doing your work as a scout teaches you how to keep your eyes open.' midday brought them to the edge of a wide stretch of heath country, where they were quite at home. they halted as soon as they reached the heath, built their fire, and made a good meal on the smaller trout, the remains of the big one, the remains of the loaf, and a billy of tea. the afternoon journey lay directly across the great, lonely track, and they only saw two or three small hamlets, dwellings of broom-squires, heath- and furze-cutters, or squatters. as the afternoon wore on the sky began to wear an ominous look. the scouts had seen several signs that rain was near. for one thing, a very sure sign, distant ridges had shown themselves sharply clear in the afternoon sunshine, and had looked far nearer then they were. now great blue-black clouds began to roll slowly up the western sky. 'going to be a rough night, chippy,' said the wolf. 'no mistake, dick,'replied his companion; 'it'll be too wet for the open to-night. we'll have to look for shelter.' 'if we can only do a turn for someone and get permission to sleep in the hayloft,' went on dick, 'that would be first-rate. we don't want to spend money on lodgings.' 'soon bust the ten bob that way,' grunted chippy.' 'look, theer's a village right ahead, wi' trees an' fields. we'll be out o' the he'th soon. p'raps we can manage it there.' the scouts pushed on steadily. they did not know it, but an adventure awaited them which would settle the question of the night's lodging. chapter xxxiv scouts to the rescue on the outskirts of the village a mill-wheel droned lazily as the boys swung at scout's stride down the road. suddenly the drone died away, and by the time the comrades were abreast of the quaint old wooden water-mill the wheel was still, and its day's work was ended. the hatches were raised, and the water, no longer turned to its task, was pouring at a swift race into a pool below. the race was crossed by a small wooden bridge with a single handrail, and over the rail hung a little girl, about seven or eight years old, watching the swiftly running water. as the scouts came in sight of the child a strange thing happened. the little girl straightened herself and held the rail firmly by both hands. then, her eyes still fixed on the racing water, she began to swing slowly from side to side. she gave a start and tried to run across the narrow bridge, but fell upon her hands and knees. here she began to swing again from side to side, rocking farther over at every swing. the foaming, swift-running race had fascinated her, had dizzied and bewildered her, and was swiftly drawing her to itself. she was now below the single handrail, and there was nothing to prevent her toppling into the darting mill-race. 'she'll be in!' shouted dick, and the two scouts rushed at full speed to a wicket-gate where a path ran from the little bridge to the road. chippy was through first, and flew like a greyhound for the bridge. dick was a little behind. the raven sprang on to the bridge and made a snatch at the little girl's frock. his hand was darting out when she rolled over and fell, and he missed his grip by inches. the child's body was at once whirled away down the race. chippy flung off his haversack, and was about to leap when dick yelled: 'no, no, chippy! it's mere madness to jump into the race. this way! this way!' the wolf tore along the margin of the race, casting off haversack, jacket, and hat as he ran. at the foot of the torrent the little girl had been whirled out into the pool, and was just sinking as dick flew up. with all the impetus of his run he shot out from the bank and clove the water with a long swift dive. his eyes were open, and he saw a dark mass slowly sinking in front of him. he made a swift stroke, and had a good handful of clothes in his right hand. with his left arm and his feet he struck out for the surface, and was up in an instant. the tail of the race set up a strong current which swept inshore, and this current caught rescuer and rescued and brought them up at a point where dick was in reach of chippy's patrol staff. chippy, who had seen his comrade's idea, had followed, and was now ready to lend a hand. 'here, dick!' he shouted, and stretched out his strong stick. dick seized it, and chippy drew both inshore. 'take her first,' gasped dick. 'there's no bottom; the bank goes straight down.' he seized a tuft of rushes springing at the edge of the water and supported himself, while chippy lifted the little girl out of the water, and laid her on the bank. in a second dick was beside him. relieved of the weight of the child, dick swung himself up and scrambled out nimbly. as he shook himself, an elderly man in white dusty clothes ran across the bridge and down the bank towards them. it was the miller. the shouts of the boys had called him to the mill-door, and he had seen the plucky rescue. he ran up trembling and white-faced, too shaken for the moment to speak. the little girl was his grand-daughter, the child of his only son. chippy looked up sharply as he came. 'wheer's the nearest place wi' a fire an' a woman in it?' cried the raven. the miller pointed to his house, a little behind the mill, and shaded by a grove of chestnut-trees. 'ah! i didn't see it at fust,' said chippy, and he caught up the little girl in his wiry arms, and hurried for the bridge. he crossed it with speedy foot, and dick and the miller followed. the door of the house was open, and chippy marched straight in and laid his burden on the hearth in front of a blazing wood-fire. the miller's wife came downstairs at that moment, and uttered a cry of alarm. 'what's come to gracie?' she said. 'your little gell, eh?' said the raven. 'she tumbled into the race, an' my mate fetched her out. she's more frightened nor hurt, i shouldn't wonder. she worn't in above a minnit.' he left the child to her grandmother's care, and went out to meet dick and the miller. the old man was thanking dick with a voice which still quavered, for he had received a great shook. 'don't worry,' said chippy cheerfully; 'she'll soon be all right. th' old lady's lookin' arter her. now, dick, wheer are ye goin' to dry yerself?' 'come into the mill,' cried the old man. 'there's a good fire in the drying-kiln.' 'that'll do,' said the raven, 'an' if ye'll kindly oblige wi' a blanket or suthin' to wrap him in while his things are a-dryin', that'll be all right.' 'ay, sure, anythin' i've got ye're more than welcome to,' said the miller. 'i'll niver forget what ye've a-done this day. how i could ha' faced my son if aught had happened i don't know, an' that's truth.' he took the scouts into the mill, and then hurried away to the house. dick stripped off his dripping clothes, and the comrades wrung out all the wet they could before they hung them over the kiln. 'i can manage as soon as my shorts are dry,' said dick. 'i chucked away the coat and haversack with the spare things in them, and they're dry now.' the miller came in with a big blanket, and dick wrapped himself in it, while chippy ran off to collect the traps they had flung aside at the moment of the rescue. when he came back he began to laugh at sight of dick. 'now, wolf,' he said, 'if yer 'ad a few feathers to stick in yer hair, ye'd look just like some big injun sittin' outside his tent.' 'outside his wigwam,' grinned dick. 'well, it's jolly comfortable inside a blanket, anyhow. you're pretty wet, chippy.' 'yus; the water run on to me a bit off the little gell,' said chippy. 'i'll stand up to the kiln, and soon get dry.' the miller had gone away again, and this time he returned with a jug of steaming tea, two cups and saucers, and a plate heaped high with food. a drap o' meat an' hot drink will do ye good,' he said, an' ye can peck away while the clo'es do dry.' chippy chuckled. 'how's yer tender conscience?' he murmured to the wolf. 'fair enough for us to tek' this, ain't it?' 'fair enough?' cried the astonished miller, who had caught the remark. 'well, what a man ye must think me! i'd give a bite an' a sup to anybody; an' after what ye've done, i'd pull the house down to please ye.' 'it's aw' right,' cried the raven hastily. 'i don't mean wot you mean. it was only a bit of a joke wi' my pardner.' 'oh, ay, a joke--well,' said the miller; 'but ye're welcome, an' more than welcome.' 'how's the little girl coming on?' cried dick, in order to turn the subject. 'bravely, bravely,' cried the old man. 'she'd swallowed a tidy drap o' water, an' felt pretty queer. but she's comin' round now. how did ye come to see her?' dick related the story of the child's fall, and the old man declared he'd put more rails to the bridge. ''twor' the runnin' water carried her beyond herself,' he said. 'ay, sure, that wor' it.' before the boys finished their meal the threatened storm broke. there was a tremendous downpour of rain, thundering on the roof and lashing the windows. 'i'd just as lieve be agen this kiln-fire as out in that,' remarked the raven. 'seems to me we'll put up here to-night.' 'i dare say he'll let us turn in on his hay, or something like that,' said dick. 'we'll ask him when he comes back.' for the miller had gone again to the house in his anxiety to see how his grandchild was getting on. chippy turned the shorts, which had been put in the best drying-place, and felt them. 'they'll be dry in no time now,' he said, and returned to the jug for the final cup of tea which it contained. 'at the rate we're going on,' laughed dick, 'we could stop out a month on our ten shillings, chippy.' 'it 'ud suit me proper,' said the raven, cutting his bread against his thumb with his jack-knife. the miller had brought them knives from the house, but the scouts preferred to use their own. the old man was gone a long while, and when he returned dick had got into his shorts and dry things, and was himself again. 'ah!' said the miller, 'now p'raps ye'll step across to the house. my missis do want to see ye an' thank ye.' the scouts did not look very happy over this, for they both hated any fuss. but when they got into the big kitchen they found it was all right. the miller's wife was not a fussy person at all, and they were at home with the old lady in a minute. the little girl was sitting beside the fire in a big chair. she looked very pale, but was quite herself again. ''tis a new thing to her, you see,' explained the miller's wife. 'she's my son's child, and lives over to baildon, forty mile away. i don't know as ever she'd seen the race a-runnin' afore--leastways, from the bridge.' 'it made my head swing,' put in the child. 'ay, it turned her head all swimmy like,' said the miller. 'well, it's a merciful providence there wor' brave hearts at hand to save ye. now,' he went on to the scouts, 'i can see by yer knapsacks an' sticks as ye be on a sort o' journey through the land.' 'yes, we're on a scouting tramp,' said dick. 'ah!' said the miller, and rubbed his ear. dick saw he did not quite understand, and he entered on a short explanation of their movements. 'walkin' from place to place, be ye?' said the old lady. 'then ye must stay wi' us to-night, an' i'll see ye have a good bed.' a good bed! the scouts looked at each other in dismay. perish the thought! they were not out to sleep in good beds. 'haven't you a hay-loft?' asked dick. 'yes,' replied the miller. 'what of that?' again dick explained. the miller and his wife were rather puzzled at the idea of the boys preferring the hay-loft, but they were willing that the scouts should do as they pleased; and that night the two comrades rolled themselves in their blankets, and slept snugly side by side in a nest of soft sweet hay. the next morning they were up bright and early, intending to slip off before the people of the mill were astir; but they reckoned without the miller, who was up earlier still, and insisted that they should eat a good breakfast before they started. and when at last they struck the trail once more, they carried a huge packet of sandwiches the miller's wife had cut for them. chapter xxxv a brother scout--the two tramps it was mid-morning before they got the knots out of their neckties, for they followed quiet ways on which few people were to be met. then they approached a small town entered by a steep hill. at the foot of the hill an old man was struggling to get a hand-cart loaded with cabbages up the slope. the scouts called upon him to ease up; then chippy took the shafts, and dick pushed at the side, and they ran the heavy hand-cart up the hill to the door of the greengrocer, whose shop the old man supplied from his little market-garden. at the top of the hill, as they rested to get their wind, a cheery-looking gentleman drove by in a dog-cart. he smiled at sight of them and their task, saluted, and called out; 'well done, boy scouts!' the comrades saluted him in return, and he drove off, waving his hand. 'i'll bet he's an instructor,' said chippy. 'i shouldn't wonder,' returned dick. 'he looked cheerful enough to be one of ours.' they only stayed in the town long enough to despatch a post-card, of which dick had a small stock in his haversack, to bardon, to say all was well, then pushed on, and were soon in the open country once more. two miles out of the town they met a comrade. they were passing a house standing beside the road, when a boy came out at the gate. he started and stared at sight of them, then gave the secret sign in full salute; for he had observed the badge on their hats, and knew them for patrol-leaders. they returned the salute, and the stranger stepped forward and held out his left hand. they shook hands, and he produced his badge. 'i'm no. midmead owl patrol,' he said. 'midmead's about half a mile farther on. you'll see the village after you turn the next corner.' he inquired where they had come from, and the bardon boys told him, and they chatted for some time. the owl was very deeply interested in their journey, and wished a hundred times he could go on such a tramp. finally he rushed back into the garden from which he had come. 'wait a minute,' he said; but the scouts had to wait five minutes before he returned with his hat full of new potatoes. 'look here,' he said. 'jolly good, aren't they, for so early in the season? i've grown them in my own garden. i've got a piece of the garden, and i grow stuff, and sell it to buy all i want for scout work. i've done splendidly with new potatoes. i sowed very early, and covered the tops with straw when there were any signs of frost, and got the first potatoes in the village, and made rattling good prices. do take a few. they'll come in handy at your next camp.' they thanked him, and chippy stowed the potatoes away in his haversack. then their fellow scout, whose name was jim peel, accompanied them through midmead and half a mile beyond. at midday they halted, and built their fire, and overhauled their store of provisions. they had stayed their march beside a little brook, and in it they washed the potatoes, and then boiled them in their jackets in the billy. after the potatoes were boiled, they washed the billy, and then boiled more water, and made their tea. they were very hungry, for they had made a good long tramp during the morning, and the sandwiches which the miller's wife had given them, the new potatoes, and the tea went down very well. then they stretched themselves at ease on the grass in the hot sun, with the idea of taking a good rest. dick spread out his map, and took his pencil to mark out the route of their morning's journey. 'we're all right, chippy,' he said in a tone of deep satisfaction; 'we've broken the back of our journey. look, we're between five and six miles from newminster. that will be just a pleasant stroll this afternoon.' 'an' that 'ull mean three days each way,' said the raven. 'that's it,' said dick. 'we'll do it comfortably, chippy, my boy.' he carefully marked the track they had followed, then closed the map, and returned it to the haversack. their haversacks lay at their feet between them and the dying fire; their staves were beside them. the two scouts now stretched themselves comfortably in the sun, drew their hats over their eyes, and discussed their own affairs. 'i say, chippy, we're bound to have plenty of cash to see us through now,' said dick, 'even if we have to spend steady on for the rest of the journey.' 'rather,' replied chippy; 'there's a lot o' flour left, an' some tea an' sugar, an' the bakin'-powder, an' the lump o' salt; an' we've only spent eleven three-fardens so fur.' 'yes,' chuckled dick. 'i can see father smiling now as he gave me the two half-sovereigns. i know as well as can be what he thought. he felt sure we should be back before now, with our ten shillings for way-money all blued. and one half-sovereign is in my belt, and almost all the other is in my purse.' on the other side of the hedge below which the scouts lay, a couple of evil faces looked at each other with evil joy in their eyes. every word the boys were saying was falling into the ears of a pair of big, burly tramps. one was a stout, middle-aged man, the other a tall young fellow with long legs; both belonged to the worst class of that bad order. when will this pest of lazy, loutish loafers, often brutal and dangerous, be cleared from our pleasant highways and byways? there are beautiful stretches of our country where it is not safe for women and children to stroll unattended through the quiet lanes, simply because the district lies on a tramps' route from one big town to another, and is infested by these worthless vagrants. there is nothing that dwellers in the country see with greater satisfaction than the conviction, slowly ripening in the public mind, that this tramp nuisance and danger must shortly be dealt with, and the firmer the hand the better. they are the people to shut up in compounds, where they should be made to do a few strokes of labour to earn their living, instead of terrorizing cottagers and dwellers in lonely houses for food and money. but now to our heroes and their experience with two members of this rascally order, feared and dreaded in every solitary neighbourhood. we have said that the scouts had made their halt beside a brook. they had paused on the bridge where the brook ran under the road they were following, and had observed that a path turned from the road, passed through a narrow gateway from which the gate was missing, and went along the bank. they had gone down the path some sixty or seventy yards, and had made their halt at a point where there was a strip of grass some ten yards wide between the hedge of a field and the bank of the brook. half an hour before the boys arrived, a pair of tramps had turned down the same quiet side track, intending to eat the food they had begged in a hamlet near at hand. they had gone some distance beyond the spot where the scouts halted, and did not discover the presence of the latter until they were on their way back to the high-road. the younger tramp was leading the way, and when he saw the boys lying on the bank with their haversacks at their feet, he stepped back into cover, and the two rascals took counsel with each other. 'might be the price of a pint or two on 'em,' said the elder, a villainous-looking rogue, his tiny bloodshot eyes firing at the thought of drink. 'mebbe,' said the other; and they went back a score of yards, found a gate, climbed over it into the field, and crept stealthily up on the other side of the hedge. crouching behind the boys, they heard dick speak of the money he had about him, and they looked at each other with evil, greedy joy on their scoundrel faces. the assault was made at once, and through a gap close at hand. it was the stout, heavy man who led the way. with an agility no one would have suspected in his bulky, clumsy-looking figure, he bounded nimbly through the gap, caught up the haversacks, tossed them three yards to the other side of the fire, leapt the fire himself, then stood on guard between the haversacks and their owners. he was followed by the tall young man, who posted himself in front of the scouts, and threatened them with a heavy stick which he held in his hand. the attack was so sudden, so unexpected, that the scouts, stretched comfortably at full length, could do no more than sit up before their enemies were in position. 'kape still!' roared the long-legged tramp. 'if e'er a one on yer tries to get up, i'll land 'im one acrost the nut!' it was quite clear that he was in very savage earnest, and the two scouts sat still and looked upon their foes. the younger tramp was solemnly ferocious in looks, but the bulky, elder man was grinning all over his drink-blotched face, his broken yellow teeth all on view between purple lips. he had a huge bulbous nose, far ruddier than the cherry, and it shook as he laughed harshly at the captives. 'that's the way to talk, sam,' he wheezed; 'gie the fust un as moves a good lowk as 'll mek' 'im see stars.' 'what do you want?' demanded dick. 'you have no right to interfere with us. we have done no harm to you.' 'hark at 'im!' chuckled the elder villain; 'no right t' interfere, an' the young shaver's got the price o' gallons on 'im.' long legs changed the stick swiftly from right hand to left, and stretched out the right towards dick. 'fork over,' he said shortly and savagely. dick had been surprised at the sudden appearance of the desperadoes, but that was nothing as compared with the surprise which now fell upon him. for chippy burst out crying with all his might. 'oh, don't 'urt me,' wailed the raven. 'oh, please don't. oh, kind gen'l'men, let me go. i ain't got no money, nary copper: look 'ere'; and in his wailing earnestness he scrambled to his feet, and pulled the pockets of his shorts inside out. the blow which had been threatened did not fall. although chippy had got up, it was to wail and lament, and the tramps took no notice of him except to laugh at his distress. you see, they knew where the money was, and dick sat still. 'see,' moaned chippy. 'i ain't got nothin' in my pockets but a knife. it's 'im wot's got the money, mister, not me;' and the raven pointed to his comrade. 'i'll bet we know that wi'out yer tellin' us,' jeered long legs. 'we heerd every word ye said about that. come on, fork over,' he added roughly to dick. dick did not move; he only looked up at his brother scout. he could hardly believe his own eyes. chippy's face was twisted into the most frightful contortions of grief, and tears as big as peas were hopping down his cheeks. the wolf's bewilderment was complete. 'oh! oh! mister,' cried chippy, 'lemme go! lemme go! i ain't got a farden.' 'all right, wait a bit,' chuckled the younger tramp. 'we'll put that straight. we'll go whacks with ye. now then, you, turn that money up, will ye?' he went on to dick. 'there's nineteen bob an' a farden on ye, we know. we'll ha' the nineteen bob, an' yer mate shall ha' the farden.' this struck fiery nose as a very good joke, and he grinned till he showed his yellow fangs right back to the grinders. 'righto, sam,' he laughed; 'we'll mek' a division of it.' 'oh, oh!' moaned the raven. 'i don't want no farden. only lemme go. oh! oh! _b.p._ lemme go, mister, please, an' i'll thank ye ever so much.' dick stiffened himself from head to foot. what was that chippy had worked in among his sobs and moans? b.p.--the motto of their order--'be prepared.' dick held himself tense as a bowstring, ready for anything. 'the one wi' the rhino ain't in no 'urry to fork over, sam,' said the elder tramp. 'ye'll ha' to go through 'im, while i see wot's in these 'ere bags.' chapter xxxvi checkmate the haversacks were behind him on the bank of the brook. sam, for his part, turned upon dick with a ferocious oath, and a fresh demand for the money. of the whining, puling, weeping raven they took no notice whatever. no notice! ah, ha, messrs. long legs and fiery nose, you are making the mistake of a lifetime. no sooner was their attention drawn from him than the raven made his leap, swift and silent as a charging panther. he darted upon the stout tramp, whose back was towards him, as its owner bent over the haversacks. chippy placed both hands against a certain portion of the tramp's person which afforded him an excellent purchase, and gave a tremendous shove. fiery nose stumbled forward, caught his feet in the haversacks, grabbed wildly in the air to save himself, found nothing to fill his clutch, and pitched head first over the edge of the bank into the deep, slow brook. crash! splash! he went into the pool, and the water leapt like a fountain under his terrific plunge. but the raven did not stay to observe the success of his manoeuvre. quick as a trout in a stream he was off at full speed, but he had the haversacks tucked safely in his arms. round whirled the younger tramp in time to see his comrade hit the water. he swung up his stick for a blow at the nimble gliding raven, but as he sprang at the scout, dick thrust his staff between the long legs, tripped him up, and sent him sprawling with his face in the hot, smouldering ashes. chippy was already racing for the road, and dick followed at top speed. in a moment the tramp was on his feet, and dashing the wood ashes out of his eyes and hair. then he caught up the stick which had flown from his hand and pursued the fugitives, a wild medley of execrations pouring from his lips. in the pool fiery nose wallowed and blew like a grampus, and howled for help. dick looked back and saw the long-legged tramp covering the ground at a tremendous pace. he was a big, powerful fellow, and was armed with an ugly club. the scouts were not out of the wood yet. they turned a corner and saw the gateway with no gate close before them. an idea shot into dick's head. 'run straight ahead, chippy,' he called. 'leg it down the road.' the raven made no reply. he obeyed orders, feeling sure that his comrade had a reason for what he said. the boys shot through the gateway, and dick turned abruptly and dropped down beside it. the gateway was a couple of posts on which a wicket had once swung, nothing more. but a thick bramble-bush grew beside the right-hand post, and in cover of this bush dick was crouching. he peered through the bush and saw the tramp come tearing round the bend. the rascal saw chippy disappearing over the bridge, and thought the second fugitive had already vanished. he roared a fresh set of exceedingly impolite remarks and wishes, and came on like a tornado in full career. and as he charged into the narrow gateway, a stout patrol staff slid across, and was laid on the inner sides of the posts. he never even saw it, so madly was he bent on his pursuit, and it did its work to a miracle. he put one foot fairly under it, and as he rose to his wild bound the staff took him a little above the ankle and tripped him up. the surprise was so complete that he could not save himself. he came down headlong on the hard causeway, and ploughed up the gravel for a foot or more with his features. the crash knocked all the wind out of him: it deserted his body in a fierce whistling sound, something between a grunt and a howl, and he was half-stunned besides, with his nose flattened into his face. dick gave a yell of delight, whipped out his staff--the stout bit of tough ash had taken the shock with hardly a quiver--and raced after his comrade. chippy was a good way down the road, and when he glanced back, dick waved his stick in triumph. the raven at once eased to allow his friend to come up, and dick shouted the glad news as he joined his comrade. chippy shouted with delight. 'he's done for,' cried the raven. 'a , that was. no more runnin' for 'im just yet. that was splendid, dick.' the boys swung their haversacks across their shoulders and continued their way at a steady, loping trot. 'oh, chippy,' cried dick, 'but yours was the splendid dodge, the way you took those fellows in! they never dreamed but that you were sick with fright. how did you manage it?' 'oo,' said the raven, 'there ain't nothin' in that. anybody can mek' believe to cry and beg for mercy, like.' 'ah,' cried dick, 'but there were real tears streaming down your face, chippy. how did you do that?' 'easy as easy,' replied the raven. 'yer just jab yer fingers in the corner o' yer eyes. i'll show yer.' 'thanks,' laughed dick. 'i'll take your word for it, old boy. it doesn't sound too delightful.' 'i wonder if the old un's out o' the pool yet,' said chippy, as they trotted on, and the scouts shouted with laughter as they recalled his terrific plunge. 'the other can go back and help his friend out when he's got his wind again,' said dick. 'rough on the pool, though,' muttered the raven; 'that nose o' his wor enough to mek' the water boil.' 'what luck to lose nothing!' cried dick. 'barrin' my stick,' put in chippy. 'why, yes,' replied dick. 'upon my word, i hadn't noticed that. of course, your hands were filled with the haversacks, and your staff has been left on the bank where we were resting.' 'ne'er mind,' said the raven; 'it's wot we could best afford to lose. soon cut another.' the boys did not check their pace until they reached a large village a mile or more from the bridge, and then they dropped into their usual scout's stride. on the other side of the village they came to another bridge, this time spanning a canal. 'here we are,' said dick, for the scouts intended to follow the towpath into newminster: it would save them a mile and a half of dusty high-road. they went down to the bank and started off along the side of the canal. it was not a dirty piece of water, malodorous and unsightly, as canals are in manufacturing centres: it was like a straight stretch of a clear, beautiful river. there was a towpath only on the one side. the other was a grassy border, where sedges and bulrushes grew, and cows came down from the meadows to drink. the scouts had barely gone half a mile when they came upon a barge lying beside the bank. they glanced into its cabin as they went by, and saw that a tiny fire was burning brightly in its stove, and that it was a very trim, smart little place. but there was no bargeman, no horse, no one; the barge seemed deserted. the boys went on, and soon heard cries of anger and distress coming down the breeze. they broke into the scouts' trot, turned a bend, and saw a stout lady pursuing a white horse. chippy knew all about canals. 'broke 'is tow-line, an' now he's 'ookin' it,' observed the raven. 'come on--scout's job 'ere.' the old white horse was not hooking it very fast. there was no need that he should. the stout lady jogged a few steps, then settled into a walk. the old horse cropped the grass beside the water till she was close at his heels, then he jogged off a little and settled down to grazing again. but the active scouts soon settled his hash. they passed the stout lady at full speed, and ran down the old nag within fifty yards. then dick led him back to the barge-woman, who was mopping a hot red face with a big red handkerchief. 'well, i'm more'n a bit obliged to yer,' she panted, 'an' thank ye kindly. the line parted, and i thought i never should ketch that dratted ole creetur. ah, ye good-for-nuthin',' she cried to the horse, who now held down his nose and looked meekness itself, 'an' the good missis i am to ye. allus plenty to eat, and no whippin'.' 'he went off on a little beano,' said chippy soothingly. 'don't blame 'im. they all will when they get the chance. now we'll rig 'im for ye tight an' sound.' the boys led the horse back to his deserted task, fished the broken rope out of the water, and joined the parted ends with a sheet-bend knot, such as all scouts learn to tie. 'goin' to newminster?' asked the bargewoman. 'yes,' said dick. 'in a hurry?' 'not particularly,' he said. 'why not ride along o' me? it ain't fast, but it's as easy as anythin'.' now, neither scout would have confessed it to the other for worlds, but each of them was feeling the three days' tramp a little; and besides, the idea of gliding along the river-like canal on the barge, which was very clean and gaily painted, was rather fascinating. 'you're very kind,' said dick, and glanced at his comrade. 'i'd like it prime,' murmured chippy. 'jump on,' said the stout lady; and the scouts were aboard in an instant. dick was less familiar with a barge than chippy, and he inspected with the deepest interest the snug, neat little cabin, as bright and clean as a new pin, with its little stove, its narrow seats, its shelves, and cupboards, with everything stowed away in shipshape fashion, the whole place reminding him of a room in a big doll's house. chippy complimented the lady of the barge on the smartness of her ship. 'we keep it as tidy as we know 'ow,' she replied. 'me an' my 'usband we niver tek' dirty loads--coals, or anythin' like that. crockery an' earthenware we got under the canvas now'--and she nodded forward--'that's the sort o' load for us. queer thing the ole horse broke loose this arternoon when i'm by myself, which don't often happen. my man he's gone on to newminster, an' there we'll stop to-night.' then she gave her attention to steering the barge round a bend, while the old horse plodded along the bank as meekly as if thoughts of running away could never enter his head. in a quiet bend of the waterway the bargewoman roared 'wo!' and the white horse pulled up at once and whickered. 'time for 'is nosebag,' she said, 'an' 'e knows it very well. an' we'll have a cup o' tea. i allus pull up for that, an' tek' it quiet an' comfortable, wi'out havin' to bother about steerin'.' she fished out a tin bucket already filled with chaff, and proceeded to climb ashore and hang it round the horse's head. 'tea for three,' murmured the raven. 'more grub;' and dick smiled. the meal was a very cheerful little affair. the scouts sat on the roof of the cabin in the sunshine, with their cups beside them, and their hostess spread butter liberally on the slices of a large cottage loaf, and encouraged them to eat heartily, and set them a first-rate example herself. over the teacups they chatted freely, and the boys explained their movements. among other things, they narrated their adventure of a few hours ago with the tramps, and the bargewoman was very indignant. 'lazy good-for-nothin' varmin--that's what i call them tramps!' she cried. 'i know what i'd do wi' 'em. i'd take ivery man-jack of 'em by the scruff o' his neck, an' set him at a job, that i would, as sure as my name's hester slade. an' i'd say to him: "when that's done ye'll get sommat to eat, an' not afore." that's wot i'd say. "work or starve!"' and mrs. slade waved the bread-knife above her head, as if it were a sword flourished in defiance of the whole army of tramps in general. chapter xxxvii at newminster 'we come off pretty well,' said chippy--'lost naught but my stick.' 'i'll show you where to out another afore we get to newminster,' said mrs. slade--'a place where my man often cuts a stick. 'tis a plantation of ashes on a bank lookin' to the north. heavy, holdin' ground, too--just the spot for slow-growin' tough timber.' she went to the towpath once more to unstrap the tin bucket from the horse's head, and set him to his task again. 'i fancy we shall have to stay somewhere in newminster to-night, chippy,' said dick. chippy grunted in a dissatisfied fashion. the raven was very keen on doing the trip for the smallest possible outlay of money. it seemed to him so much more scoutlike to live on the country, as they were fond of saying, and to pay for shelter did not seem to be playing the game. dick nodded. 'i know what you mean,' he said, for he had quite understood chippy's grunt. 'but we're bound to make newminster, and send off a card to show we've been in the town.' 'o' course,' said the raven. 'and then it will be rather late to start off again and strike for the open country to search for a camping-place.' 'right, dick--quite right,' rejoined his comrade; 'the wust of it is as lodgin's cost money.' 'needn't cost ye a single copper this night, anyhow,' said a voice in their ears, and the scouts jumped. mrs. slade had come up unseen, and had caught the last words of the raven. 'here y' are,' she went on, and pointed to the snug little cabin; 'that's yourn to-night if ye want it.' 'but you'll need it for yourselves,' cried dick. 'not this night,' she replied. 'i've got a married darter in newminster. she've a-married a wharfinger in a good way o' business. such a house as she've got! upstairs, downstairs, an' a back-kitchen.' mrs. slade visibly swelled in importance as she described her daughter's palatial surroundings. no doubt they seemed very extensive indeed after one small cabin. 'an' 'tis settled we stay wi' her to-night, so the cabin 'ere will be empty, an' ye're as welcome to it as can be.' the scouts' eyes glistened, and they were easily induced to accept the kindly offer, and so they glided on their way towards the town, chatting together like old friends. mrs. slade pulled up for a moment at the ash plantation, and chippy sprang out with the tomahawk. in five minutes he was back with a tough, straight ash-stick, which he trimmed and whittled with his knife as they made the last mile into the city. at the wharf where the barge was to lie for the night they met mr. slade, a short, thick-set man, with a short, broad face between a fur cap and a belcher handkerchief. he was to the full as good-natured as his wife, and cordially re-echoed her invitation for the scouts to sleep in their cabin. the wharfinger's house was near at hand, so that the owners of the barge would not be far away. the scouts stowed their haversacks and staves away in the cabin of the barge, shut it up, and locked it with the key which mrs. slade had lent to them, and left the key at the wharfinger's house. then they put on their jackets and went for a stroll round the streets of the quaint old city. the long summer evening was dying as they stood below the fine west front of the cathedral, and watched the swallows skimming about the noble towers. near at hand was a post-office, where dick triumphantly scribbled, 'at newminster. all well,' on a card, and dropped it into the letter-box. 'supper and turn in now, chippy,' he said, 'righto,' murmured the raven. 'we must be off early to-morrow. road home 'ull work out three or four mile more'n the road 'ere.' 'that's a fact,' said dick; 'but we'll turn up at bardon by saturday night without setting foot in a train yet. now, chippy, what shall we have for supper? we've got jolly good lodgings for nothing: we can afford something extra for supper.' they were going down the street which would lead them back to the wharf, and the raven paused in front of a butcher's shop. 'can we sport a pound o' sausages?' he said. 'they'd mek' a good feed to-night, and we'd have one or two left for brekfast again.' 'good,' said dick, and they laid down eightpence for a pound of sausages, and threepence for a small loaf, and returned to the barge. here they fried their sausages and made some tea, for the fire in the stove was not out, and the good-natured bargewoman had left them a small bucketful of coke to make it up again. after supper they carefully put out the fire, and turned in on the two bunks which lay one on either side of the little cabin. here, wrapped in their blankets, they slept like tops till five o'clock in the morning. chippy was the first to wake, and he got up and thrust his head out at the hatch. his movements aroused his comrade, and dick sprang to the floor. 'lucky we've been in 'ere,' said chippy. 'it's been pourin' o' rain in the night.' so it had. the hollows among the stones which paved the wharf were filled with pools of water, and everywhere had the fresh-washed look which accompanies a heavy downpour. 'well, we've been snug and dry enough,' cried dick. 'now for breakfast and a start.' they had cooked the whole of the sausages the night before, so that they did not trouble to light a fire. they finished the loaf and the sausages, and were almost at the end of their meal, when mrs. slade came across from the wharfinger's house. through her good offices they obtained a bucket of clean water, and washed their faces and hands, promising themselves a good dip in the first river they came to in their day's journey. so by half-past six they had said farewell to the bargewoman, and were marching through the silent streets of the little city in the sweet freshness of a june summer morning. they had entered newminster from the south: they were leaving it towards the north. in order to cover fresh ground all the time, they had planned their route so that their track as marked on the map showed as a very much flattened oval. they had worked towards newminster on a south-westerly sweep; they were working home again on a north-easterly tack. chapter xxxviii homeward bound--a dish of eels for nearly three miles they held to the main road, going due north, then turned aside to a quiet grassy by-track running north-east, and were fairly launched on their new route. moving in quiet, steady fashion, they made nine miles before they halted, then pulled up below an oak-tree on the borders of a little wood for a long halt during the heat of the day. both, though in good, hard condition, were dripping with sweat, for the day was unwontedly sultry for early summer. 'don't mind if i do stretch me legs a bit,' grunted the raven. 'yes,' said dick; 'jolly stiff going to-day, chippy. isn't it hot? but we can take a good long rest now. we've broken the back of the day's journey.' 'right time to do it, dick,' said his friend. 'rather,' said dick; 'no time for a tramp like the freshness of the morning.' the boys stretched themselves in the shade and lay at their ease for half an hour, then dick sat up. 'well,' he said, 'there seems a hollow inside me somewhere.' 'same 'ere, dick,' murmured the raven. 'we'll fill up. wot's the bill o' fare?' 'chupatties and tea, i fancy,' replied the wolf. 'we've been carrying the rest of that bag of flour about since monday morning.' 'all to the good,' murmured chippy, 'all to the good. wot we've dropped in for has saved our----' he pulled up abruptly, and did not utter the word 'cash,' which had been in his mind. 'shan't mention that,' he continued in a lower whisper still, ''cept we're in the middle of a ten-acre field.' dick laughed. 'we got into a trifle of a fix the last time we discussed that subject,' he said. 'i say, chippy, do you reckon that it was a bit of a blot on us as scouts that we were caught like that?' chippy heaved a deep sigh. 'i've never mentioned it,' he replied, 'but it's bin on my mind more'n once. seems to me we orter scouted round more to find whether there wor enemies in the country. they 'ad us on toast, they did. reg'lar let down for a pair o' scouts,' and chippy sighed again. in order to banish these melancholy thoughts, the wolf and the raven began to get something to eat. the wolf opened his jacket and mixed the flour on the lining, while the raven fetched water and made a fire, and chopped and peeled and heated a club. when the dough was ready, dick worked it into a long strip which was wound spirally round the club. then the club was thrust into the ground beside the fire, one end of it being sharpened. now and again the club was given a turn while the dough toasted steadily. chippy watched the dough, and dick made the tea. they ate their meal, rested a couple of hours, then went on again. it was now midday, and tremendously hot. but they were not going a great way. the map showed the winding blue line of a river two miles ahead, and they were in search of it for a pleasant swim. they gained the bank of the river, sat down a short time to cool off, then stripped and plunged in, and spent a delightful half-hour in the clear water. as they were dressing they observed that a faintly marked path ran through the meadow at the edge of the stream. they followed it when they were ready to march once more, and soon came upon a mill standing at the waterside. above the mill was a broad pool, and in the shade of some bushes trout were feeding, or, more likely, playing, for now and again one would leap clean out of the water and fall back again with a flash of silver. the boys sat down on the bank beside the water and gazed upon the pleasant pool. 'it would come in handy if you could catch a few of those trout, chippy,' said dick. 'those were all right we caught on monday night.' the raven shook his head. 'wish i could, dick,' he replied; 'but that dodge ain't no use now, an' i couldn't get them over theer to look at anythin' i've got wi' me.' 'i suppose not,' said dick. 'i say, chippy, see that heap of stones just under the bank here.' the raven glanced down and saw what his brother scout was pointing at. it looked as if for generations the millers had flung their broken mill-stones into this part of the pool, and they lay piled against each other with black hollows between. chippy looked down thoughtfully, then his eyes lighted up. 'never seen a more likely place in me life for big eels,' he grunted; 'they love a hole atwixt stones lik that.' 'do you think we could catch a few?' cried dick eagerly. 'shouldn't wonder,' replied his comrade. 'we'll have a go, anyhow. fust, we want some lobs.' the search for lob-worms was made at once. 'we'll have to dig for them, i suppose,' said dick. 'not a bit of it,' said chippy. 'i'll show ye a lot quicker way than that.' he went to the side of the field where there was a ditch nearly dry in the hot sun. he walked along the ditch until he came to a stone. he turned the stone swiftly, and there was almost sure to be a big lob lying underneath it, sometimes two or three. before they could withdraw into their holes the raven's finger was pressed on their tails, and they were helpless. in a few moments he had collected more than a dozen big lobs, and these were carried back triumphantly to the mill-pool in his hat. next he cut a couple of hazel-rods about four feet long, and fairly stiff, tied a short line to each, and fastened a strong-eyed hook at the end of the line. 'now we're ready,' he said. 'this little game's called "sniggling," an' it's a sure thing if only th' eel's at 'ome. lemme get 'old 'o one fust, an' show ye how to pull 'im out.' chippy put a lob on his hook, and then pinched a small split bullet--of which his friend had given him half a dozen--on the line about six inches above the hook. he dropped the weighted bait into a dark hole between two fragments of stone, and moved it gently about. two or three minutes passed; then the raven drew his bait up. 'nobody in,' he remarked; 'try next door.' he moved a yard along the bank, and dropped the bait into a second dark crevice. it was seized instantly, and the line sharply plucked. 'one 'ere,' said chippy; 'there's no mistake about hearin' from him, if there's one about.' 'look how he's pulling at the line!' cried dick, as the slender cord jerked again and again. 'yus,' said chippy; 'nuthin' plucks an' pulls like an eel. now he's got a good hold o' the bait, an' out he comes.' the raven began to pull firmly but slowly, keeping the line quite taut. 'don't try to yank 'im out,' he said to his pupil. 'sure's ye do, ye'll break the line an' lose the lot. pull gently at 'im till he's tired; then out he comes, smooth an' easy.' three or four minutes passed before chippy drew the snake-like head of the eel out of the black hole between the stones. 'a good un,' he snapped, drew on the line a little harder, and swung an eel weighing half a pound or more to the bank, where he promptly put one foot on the eel and drew the line taut. 'see wot i'm doin'?' said the raven. 'if ye don't look out, he'll tangle hisself all up in yer line, an' give ye a fine old job to get 'im free.' with that he whipped out his knife, and despatched the wriggling creature by cutting off its head. dick now took his stick and line to try his luck, while his comrade dug out hook and bait, which had vanished down the eel's throat. dick caught a little one in the first hole that he tried, and drew it safely to the bank. but there he failed to control its wild, sinuous movements, and it tangled itself up in his line in such a style that chippy had to come to his aid. after that he got on much better, and caught two good-sized ones, and held them and the line taut, while chippy sailed in with the knife and whipped their heads off. in a short time they had seven, for the holes were well furnished with occupants, and with these seven they stayed content. they washed them in a quiet backwater, and rubbed them as clean as they could with wisps of dry grass, and then packed them in chippy's haversack, with more dry grass about them. 'mek' us a jolly good supper to-night,' said the raven. 'they will,' cried dick. 'now for the road again. we've got an uphill stretch before us, chippy, according to the map.' chapter xxxix the storm--what happened while they dried their clothes within a mile again, the track they were following--a very ancient vicinal way--began to rise over a long stretch of moorland used mainly for sheep-walks, and covered in places with wide patches of low-growing bilberry-bushes. on some of these bushes the purple little berries were already ripe, and the boys gathered them in handfuls, and ate them as they walked. suddenly a low, heavy muttering called their attention to the western sky, and they saw a blue-black cloud rising swiftly. 'thunder,' said dick; 'that's what this terrific heat has meant.' 'best step out,' remarked the raven. 'no shelter about 'ere for a mile or two.' they stayed no longer to gather bilberries, but pushed on at a steady swinging stride, looking back from time to time at the storm, which seemed to pursue them. a wind sprang up, and wild gusts raced past them, and howled across the moor. light, swift clouds which seemed to be flying before the storm hurried across the sky, and the sunshine was swallowed up and the day darkened. dick looked back and whistled. 'here comes the rain, chippy,' he said. 'we'd better put our jackets on.' they did so, but the raven shrugged his shoulders as if he was of the opinion that jackets would be but slight protection against the downpour now rushing upon them. the thunder-shower was perhaps a couple of miles away, and marching across the country in a line as straight as if drawn with a ruler. a clump of pines stood out darkly against the white veil of the streaming rain. as the scouts looked, the pines were swallowed up, and the wall of water stalked swiftly on towards them. they looked round, but there was not the faintest chance of gaining the least shelter. all round them the earth was covered with low-growing bushes; there was neither tree nor hedge nor fence to break the force of the torrential downpour. a mile in front the road topped the ridge and disappeared. 'there may be shelter beyond the ridge, chippy,' cried dick. 'let's run for it.' they ran, but in vain. long before they gained the ridge the storm was upon them--first a few heavy drops, then a downpour which made the earth smoke again. in two minutes the scouts were wet to the skin, and the storm lasted twenty. then it raced past them, hissing and roaring, and left them tramping down the farther side of the ridge, their boots full of water, and not a dry thread about them save for the blankets stowed in the waterproof haversacks. when the rain passed away, the two scouts, who had been tramping steadily along without growling at the weather, stopped and looked at each other, leaning on their sticks. 'well, chippy,' laughed dick, 'we look like a pair of drowned rats.' 'that's about it, dick,' grunted the raven, and tried to do a step or two of a dance. this set the water bubbling out over the tops of his shoes. 'we must dry ourselves somehow or other,' went on dick. 'you know, b. p. says it's jolly dangerous to go on in your wet clothes.' 'sat under a waggon wi' nuthin' on while he dried 'em when he'd been wet,' quoted chippy. 'and you remember his dodge for drying his toggery?' said dick. 'rather,' returned the raven; 'fire under a cage o' sticks.' 'right,' said dick; 'and there's a copse ahead. we'll halt in it, and dry ourselves.' they marched briskly for the copse, hung their haversacks on the branch of a small, low-growing oak, and went to work at building a fire. it was no easy task, but by searching in corners where thick bushes had turned aside the worst of the downpour, they found odd handfuls of dry stuff to start their blaze. luckily the matches had been in dick's haversack, and were perfectly dry. a small dead larch afforded them twigs and sticks when once the fire was started, and dick chopped the dead tree into small, handy pieces, and fed the flames with them. they did not want a lasting fire, but a heap of hot ashes, and this would be soonest afforded by small pieces of wood. while dick was busy with the tomahawk, chippy attacked a thicket of tall, straight-growing hazels with his knife, and cut an armful of the springy rods. as soon as the fire burned down, the boys took the rods, sharpened each end, took an end each, bent the rod into an arch, and drove the ends deeply into the soft earth. in this way they had soon covered the fire in, as it were, with a great basket. then they stripped off their sodden raiment, wrung it out, and spread it over the bent hazel-rods to dry. the excellence of the plan was soon manifest. clouds of steam began to rise from the wet clothes, and promised that they would soon be dry. but it was cool after the rain, and the clothes hid the fire, and the scouts felt no inclination to sit under a waggon, as their great leader had done; they felt more inclined to move about a little to warm themselves. 'it's jolly cold compared with the heat before the thunderstorm,' said dick. 'ain't it?' said chippy. 'i'll race ye to th' end o' the copse an' back. that'll warm us a bit.' 'right,' said dick. 'let's cut along where the larches and firs are. it'll be fun sprinting over the fir-needles, and soft to the feet. where do we run to?' 'the big beech yonder,' said the raven. 'i'll count. we'll go at three.' he counted, and away bounded the two scouts, racing at their fastest for the big beech which they were to touch, then to return to their fire. now, the last thing they expected to have was a witness of their race. they believed that the copse was a lonely patch of wood on the lonely heath. so it was, save for one house which lay just beyond the wood where the ridge sloped away to the south. the house was that of a sheep-farmer, whose flocks fed over the moorland; and as the boys raced through the little wood, the shepherd left the farmsteading, where he had been sheltering from the storm, and came up through the copse to go about his business. the scouts did not see him, but he saw the scouts. for a few moments he watched the race, his mouth gaping wide in true rustic wonder; then he turned, and hastily retraced his steps to the farm. he burst into the kitchen, where the farmer and his wife were seated at a round table in front of the wide hearth, taking their tea. 'maister! maister!' cried the shepherd, 'theer's two bwoys a-runnin' about i' the copse wi' ne'er a stitch on 'em.' 'what's that ye say, diggory?' cried the farmer's wife. 'ne'er a stitch on 'em, missis, a-runnin' about there like two pixies, they be. a' niver seed such a sight afore in a christian land. 'tis like haythens, on'y they be white uns 'stead o' black uns.' 'what do ye make of it, tom?' said the farmer's wife to her husband. 'maybe 'tis nought but his simple-minded talk,' replied the farmer, taking a huge bite out of a slice of bread-and-butter. 'no, maister,' cried the shepherd. ''tis gospel true, ivery word. ne'er a stitch on 'em.' and he waved his left hand like an orator. suddenly an angry flush sprang to the farmer's face, and he stood up. 'then, 'tis gipsies!' he cried. 'i dunno,' said the shepherd. 'brown they hain't, but white as milk.' 'i'll mark their white for 'em,' cried the farmer; and stepping quickly to the wall, he seized a long cart-whip which hung there, and strode from the house. for years there had been a bitter feud between the sheep-farmer and a large family of gipsies of the name of king. the kings went about the country in several small bands, and for generations the copse had been a favourite halting-place. but one spring the farmer lost some lambs, and was persuaded that the gipsies had been at the bottom of his loss. so he forbade them the use of the copse, and drove them out whenever he found they had dared to pitch their camp there. he was a hasty-tempered man, utterly fearless and quite unforgiving, so that a regular war had sprung up between himself and the kings. now he was persuaded that his enemies had sought the shelter of his copse, and he was off at once to attack them. he arrived on the scene to find the scouts turning their clothes. instead of heathens, they now looked like red indians; for they had remembered the dry blankets in the haversacks, had taken them out, and were wrapped in them like a pair of braves. they saw nothing of the angry farmer till he burst upon them through a thicket of brambles within a dozen yards of the fire, so busy were they with turning their steaming clothes. the farmer's wrath rose higher at sight of the steam and smoke. a fire was the very thing he had defied the gipsies again and again to make on his land. he cracked his whip with a vicious snap, and rushed upon the scouts. 'i'll larn ye to make a fire on my land arter the many times i've a-warned ye,' he bellowed. the attack and the outcry were both so sudden that the scouts were taken by surprise. dick was on the side of the rush. he saw that an onslaught was meant, though he knew not why, and grabbed at his staff. he forgot to keep hold of the blanket, and it slid to the ground, and left him defenceless. down came the hissing thong, and wrapped itself right round him, a regular rib-binder. a yell of pain burst from the wolf's lips; then he shut his teeth tight. the surprise had forced that first cry from him, and he did not intend to utter another. but the whip was already hissing through the air, and flight was the only thing possible; he made a spring clean across the heap of drying clothes, and fled. 'tom, tom,' panted a shrill voice behind, 'why will ye be so franzy? these be no gipsy lads. look at their clothes a-dryin'!' the farmer's wife, well knowing her husband's impetuous temper, had followed up, and at sight of her dick tucked himself away behind a wide-stemmed beech. the farmer looked down at the heap of steaming clothes, and was struck with the force of his wife's remark. 'why, 'tis a sort o' uniform,' he muttered. 'o' course it's a uniform,' cried chippy, who had stood his ground wrapped in his blanket and flourishing the tomahawk. 'it's the uniform o' baden-powell's boy scouts, an' what ye want to come 'ere for an' fetch my mate one acrost the ribs i'm blest if i know.' 'bring my blanket here, chippy,' called out dick from his refuge. 'i dropped it in my hurry.' 'why, ye see, i thought 'twor gipsy tramps startin' a fire in this copse, an' i've forbid it,' said the farmer slowly, scratching his head, and gradually getting hold of the idea that he had made a full-sized mistake. 'tramps!' snorted chippy in scorn, taking dick's blanket, and marching across to his friend. 'd'ye reckon we look like tramps?' he simply bellowed the question, for he was immensely proud of his new scout's uniform, and quite forgot that at present he was arrayed only in a blanket. 'they've been in the wet, and they're dryin' their clothes,' went on the farmer's wife. 'come home, tom, an' leave 'em be; they'll do no harm.' the farmer was already regretting his hasty blow, but, being a man who could never be made to express the opinion that he was in the wrong, he said nothing, merely turned away, and beat a retreat. 'here's your blanket, dick,' said the raven. 'i felt ready, i can tell ye, to chuck the chopper at that confounded old hayseed of a farmer.' 'he did fetch me one for luck,' said dick, rubbing the weal which now began to show up on his body. 'it seems we're trespassing.' 'not to do any harm,' growled the raven. 'but he's off now; the wife's fetchin' him away. she seems a good sort.' the two scouts went back to their fire, and again turned the clothes, which were drying fast. before long they were able to dress again, and march on their way. chapter xl the scouts' second camp they had gone half a mile from the copse, when their attention was drawn to a bramble-brake which seemed to be alive. it shook, it twisted, it rocked to and fro. they went up to the spot, and found a fat ewe on her back in the heart of it. she was struggling furiously but quite hopelessly; the brambles were wrapped about her fleecy body like cords of steel, and would hold her there till she died of exhaustion. 'i suppose she belongs to the chap who waled me,' said dick. 'well, i can take my knot out all right this time, chippy. i'll chuck the cut of the whip and the sheep in as a good turn.' 'he don't deserve it,' cried chippy; 'but we've got the poor beast to think of, an' that's a scout's job.' the boys set to work at once, and it took them a good half-hour with knife and axe to free the terrified creature. at last they had it out of the brake, and placed it on an open patch of grassy land, and left it to recover. within a mile again they were surprised to enter a dry, dusty land once more. they had passed the region of the thunder-burst. it had been a local shower, not general, and the point where it had ended was shown in quite a sharp line drawn across the way they were following. 'all the better for us,' said chippy. 'we can camp to-night, instead o' havin' to look for a barn or hay-loft, or suthin'.' in the distance a yellow van was jogging over the moor. it was moving along a road which crossed their track at right angles. 'that's a baker's van,' said dick. 'let's tun on and catch it. if we can get a loaf, we shall be set up, and can break our march where we like.' 'righto,' said the raven; 'the flour's all gone.' and the scouts ran forward. they caught the van at the crossroads, and bought a threepenny loaf. dick entered the purchase in his notebook; they had now spent two shillings and a penny three-farthings, and had plenty of food in hand for their fourth day. from this point on they surveyed the country with a single idea--the finding of a good spot for a camp. they had now reached the border of the moor, and the land was studded by woods, coppices, and coverts. pheasants flew across their path, and rabbits ambled about in every direction; for evening was coming on, and the bunnies were swarming from their burrows. 'sportin' country, this,' observed chippy; and dick agreed. suddenly the boys came on a little brook, and both said, 'here we are,' for they knew that somewhere along the brook there would be a spot to suit them. they left the road, and followed the little stream for three or four hundred yards, and then pulled up at a smooth grassy patch on the sunny side of a pine-wood. in the evening light the great tall red trees stood up quiet and splendid, and the scouts knew that their dark depths would make a happy hunting-ground for firewood and bedding. they started their fire, and collected a huge pile of dried sticks with which to feed it. they gathered armfuls of pine-tips from the lower branches, but could find no logs for a framework; so they made the bed much broader, and worked in some strong dried branches at the side, and hoped the plan would answer well. they tested it by rolling on the bed, and all seemed firm and steady. then, with ravening appetites, they turned to preparations for supper. bread and tea were easy enough to prepare, but how were they going to cook the eels? chippy had been enthusiastic over the delicious richness of fried eels, and there was the billy to fry them in, but what were they going to do for grease? 'a bit o' lard, now,' murmured chippy. 'wait a bit,' said dick. 'i'll put you right, cook.' he opened his haversack, and took out a small tin box. 'here you are,' said dick. 'mutton fat. i boiled it down myself. grand stuff to rub on your feet if you get a sore place, but we haven't wanted it yet.' 'no, we ain't tenderfeet,' grunted the raven. 'hope not,' said dick. he opened the box and smelled the contents. 'has it gone bad?' asked his companion. 'not a bit of it,' replied the wolf; 'sweet as a nut. here's a lump for your pan.' and he dug out a piece of the solid mutton fat with his knife. the eels were washed and skinned, and soon were hissing and spluttering delightfully in the mutton fat in the billy. the two biggest eels, weighing more than half a pound each, were treated in this manner, and proved quite as good as chippy had promised. while the hungry scouts devoured them, some smaller ones were set on to boil, for the raven had heard boiled eels were good also, though he hadn't tried them. so the billy was rubbed round and three parts filled with water, and on went some more eels in a new form of cookery. when it came to the test of eating, the scouts did not think the boiled were quite so tasty as the fried, but they vanished before their raging appetites, and the two boys ate every eel they had sniggled. they built up their fire and turned in before the daylight had gone, for they were fatigued by the long journey they had made that day. 'if a scritch-owl turns up this time,' chuckled chippy, 'we'll just turn over and let 'im scritch.' 'and if a jackass rambles round, we won't be frightened and make three instead of one,' laughed dick. about one in the morning dick was aroused from sleep by finding that he was very uncomfortable. the bed lacked the support of the side-logs, and the pine-tops had worked loose, and dick had worked through them, and was lying on the ground. his hip-joint was aching, and the discomfort had awakened him. 'hallo,' thought dick, on recognising what had happened, 'i've reached the bottom shelf. i shall have to dig that little hole about the size of a teacup which b.-p. recommends for you to tuck your hip-joint in.' he turned over on his back and lay still for a few moments. the night was very still and bright, and the moon was low down in the west, but clear, and shining strongly. the raven was soundly asleep, and his breathing was deep and regular. dick sat up and looked at the fire. it had burned down to a mass of embers hidden under a coating of ashes. he rolled out of his blanket, got up, and threw an armful of sticks on the fire. they began to crackle at once, and he stood for an instant to watch them. suddenly he lifted his head and sniffed: the wind was tainted as it blew lightly towards him along the lee of the wood: he could smell tobacco-smoke. 'who's about?' thought dick. 'what does it mean? we're far off from any village according to the map. but that's tobacco, and no mistake. i'll have a look round.' he glanced at his companion, but chippy was still wrapped in heavy slumber. dick stepped forward, then paused. 'no, i won't wake him,' murmured the wolf. 'it would be a shame to fetch him up for nothing. i'll see who's in the neighbourhood first.' dick slipped on his shoes, drew the laces tight, for they were rove scout fashion, tucked in the ends, took his staff, and began to creep up-wind like a hare stealing from its form. chapter xli the poachers as dick moved along the edge of the wood, the smell of tobacco grew stronger, and below a small ash he stopped with a jump of his heart. there was a scratch and spurtle of a match at his very feet, as it seemed. beyond the ash lay a big clump of brambles, and dick peered over them. he discovered that the growth of brambles masked a deep hollow, and in the hollow lay three men, one of whom was smoking, and had just relighted his pipe. dick checked himself just as he was about to give a low whistle of surprise and wonder. the men were blacks. the moon shone full into the hollow and showed ebony faces, in which white teeth glittered, as they spoke to each other in whispers. then the smoker raised his hand to press down the tobacco in his pipe, and here again was a fresh surprise, for the hand was the hand of a white man. now dick understood. these men had met for some evil purpose, and had blacked their faces as a disguise. 'something wrong,' said dick to himself. 'those fellows are out for no honest purpose. scout's job here.' as the thought passed through the wolf's mind, one of the men sat up and growled an oath. 'wheer are they got to?' he said. 'here, 'tis nigh on ha'-past one, an' young bill and smiley ain't turned up yet.' 'we'll start wi'out 'em if they don't show up soon,' grunted a second speaker. 'as far as old smiley goes we can do wi'out him all right,' returned the first man, 'but we must ha' young bill. he's got the stren'th o' half a dozen to pull.' at that very moment smiley and young bill were standing open-mouthed before the scouts' fire with the sleeping raven at their feet. smiley was a little twisted old fellow, but young bill was a gigantic navvy, powerful as a five-year-old bull. their faces, too, were blacked in readiness for the night's work. three minutes after dick had crept away, they had slipped along the brook under the wood, turned a sharp corner, and come full upon the camp just as a bright light sprang up from the new sticks with which dick had fed the fire. 'wot's this?' growled young bill; 'a fire, an' somebody on the watch.' chippy had been sleeping uneasily for some time, for dick's movements had disturbed, though not awakened, him. at the sound of the new-comer's voice he awoke, flung off his blanket, and leapt to his feet. but young bill was upon him at once, and pinned him with a grip of iron. it was a terrifying experience for the raven--to awake from sleep to find his companion gone and himself in the hands of two fellows whose blackened faces had a horrifying look in the dancing firelight. 'wotcher doin' here?' demanded young bill, giving his captive a shake which rattled together the teeth in chippy's head. 'sleepin',' replied the raven calmly. 'who set ye here?' 'nobody: set myself.' chippy's eyes shot swift glances on every side. where was dick? what had become of his friend? was he free or a captive? if free, he must be warned, and chippy acted at once. he let out a wild wolf-howl, which was promptly checked by smiley. the latter gripped chippy by the throat with both hands, shutting off the call, and half strangling the caller. 'see, he's givin' a signal,' cried smiley. 'they're out for us, bill. they've put this kid on the watch!' the young giant was furious. he shook the raven savagely, and struck him a cruel blow on the side of the head. while chippy was still reeling and dizzy from this assault, he felt a handkerchief passed over his mouth, and it was quickly tied behind his head: smiley had gagged him. 'bring him along,' said smiley. 'we're close to the place where t'others are. let's see if they know aught.' dick had been immensely startled to hear his patrol call ring out from the direction of the camp, and then hear it suddenly checked. he turned and raced back, but silently and warily, and soon saw the two men advancing with chippy, gagged and helpless, dragged along between them. dick dodged behind a tree, let them pass, then followed closely in the rear. the astonishment of the three waiting men was very great when their companions arrived with the prisoner. smiley told the story, laying stress on the warning cry which he had cut short with his throttling clutch. the general opinion was that chippy had been posted there as a spy, and threats of vengeance were breathed against him. 'seems to me,' said smiley, 'we'd better call it no go to-night. they're on the watch; this is a sure proof of it. we'll ne'er drag yon stretch in safety.' 'i ain't goin' back,' burst out young bill, in his thick, savage tones; 'ye can clear out yerself as soon as ye like, smiley. yer wor' allus a white-livered un. i'm gooin' to net yon pool to-night if i ha' to do it by myself.' the three who had been waiting agreed with young bill, and smiley said he was willing to try if all were willing. 'what are we goin' to do with this nipper?' asked one of the men. 'i'll show yer,' growled the big navvy. 'i'll bring 'im along, an' ye bring the things on.' a great pile of nets had been lying on the ground, and the three men gathered the nets up, and led the way, while the two last-comers followed with the prisoner. dick had watched closely all that went on, and had listened to every word and followed up, using every patch of cover to keep closely in the rear, and burning to strike in on behalf of his brother scout and friend. for three hundred yards the party tramped along the bank of the little brook, and then a broad, silvery stretch of water opened out before them. the brook ran into a river at the head of a long pool noted for its big trout, and the men were poachers, whose aim was to net this reach of a famous trout-stream. one and all were idle rascals whose boast was that they never did a stroke of honest work while there was 'fish, fur, or feather' to be stolen from the estates of the countryside. to-night they had come to their rendezvous feeling particularly safe. a confederate had been posted right on the other side of the estate with instructions to stumble on the alarm-guns set there. these guns were to be set off about a quarter-past one, and the poachers expected that the keepers would be drawn to the sound of the guns, and thus leave them undisturbed at their quiet task of netting the squire's finest trout-pool. so that when they hit upon the raven, and persuaded themselves that he was a spy posted near the trout-stream, they were full of vicious fury. 'fust thing, we'll make sure o' this young limb,' said the navvy, when they had reached the bank of the pool. 'he shall nayther hoot nor run to carry news of us.' so, with the aid of smiley, he soon had chippy lashed to a small beech, the handkerchief fastened tightly over his mouth so that he could neither stir nor speak. ten yards away, in cover of a thick patch of hazels, dick watched everything. he drew out his knife, opened it, and ran his thumb along the keen edge. 'all right, my fine fellows,' he said to himself, 'get to your work'--for the nets had shown him what they meant to do--'and my chum will be free in a brace of shakes.' but dick reckoned without smiley. that small, sly old poacher was not there to work; his task was to keep guard. so while the other four undid their bundle of nets, and prepared for a big haul, smiley moved with the tread of a cat to and fro, watching the prisoner, listening, looking, turning his head this way and that, to detect the first sign or sound of danger. the beech to which the raven was bound stood by itself on the bank, well away from other trees. this rendered it impossible for dick to creep up unseen. he would have to dash out into the moonlight, and the wary watcher would see him and alarm the rest. no, there was nothing to do but wait awhile and look out for a chance to slip in, knife in hand. so dick kept still in cover and watched the poachers as they worked busily in the light of the sinking moon. chapter xlii dragging the pool--a little surprise first a net was stretched across the head of the pool. young bill jumped into the water and waded across waist deep with one end of the net, while a confederate paid it out from the bank. the foot of the net was loaded with leaden weights, and lay close to the bed of the stream: the top was buoyed with corks and floated on the surface. thus, when the net was carried across and pegged into the opposite bank, a wall of fine mesh lay across the stream. now the big navvy waded back, and a second net--a drag-net--was carried to the foot of the pool. this time three of them plunged into the water, and drew the net across the stream. of the three, two remained in the water, the third clambered out on the opposite bank. the net was arranged, and then the four poachers began to draw it slowly up-stream, one working on each bank and two in the water. now, trout always lie with their noses pointing upstream, and when alarmed dash away in that direction. but this time there was a wall of net to intercept their flight, and as the drag-net was brought up and up, the fish would be enclosed between the two nets and caught. while these preparations were going on, dick had watched eagerly for a chance that never came. smiley remained too close to the gagged and pinioned captive for dick to chance a rush, and the poacher was armed with a heavy stick. 'i wish the moon would go down,' thought dick, and glanced over his shoulder towards the west. he started, and looked again. two figures were creeping almost on hands and knees across a moonlit patch of turf, quite close to him. 'keepers!' whispered dick to himself. 'here come the keepers!' for the velveteens and gaiters of the crawling men announced who they were. dick was hidden in complete shade, and the patch of hazels where he lay hid the new-comers both from the watcher and the working poachers. dick's heart gave a leap of joy. 'they'll attack at once,' he thought, 'and then i can get chippy free.' but to his surprise there was no attack. the two keepers glided into shelter of a holly patch and vanished. there was neither sign nor sound from them. dick, of course, could not know that the keepers were biding their time, for they wished to take the poachers in confusion, and it was very likely the biters would be bit. the truth was that an inkling of the raid had been gained from words let fall by a drunken poacher in the village inn, and the pool had been prepared. across the middle of it a long weighted log had been sunk, and in this log a number of old scythe blades, their edges whetted as keen as razors, had been fixed in an upright position. the edges were turned down-stream, and the keepers were waiting until the drag-net should be brought upon this cunning engine of destruction. presently there was a hitch in the dragging. 'wait a bit,' said one of the poachers; 'she's caught a bit somewheer or other. pull a bit harder, young bill.' the navvy pulled hard, but to no purpose. 'it's out towards the middle o' the pool,' he growled, 'an' i dursn't go a step fudder in. i'm nigh out o' my depth already.' 'we'll get on the bank,' said the other man who was in the water. 'we'll have a better purchase for a tug at her then.' he climbed out on the farther side, and young bill climbed out on the nearer. then the four men bent to it, and hauled on the net with all their might. no use: it was stuck as fast as ever. 'ye want to pull harder, boys,' called out smiley. young bill exploded into a volley of imprecations addressed to the watchman. 'hark at 'im,' growled the navvy--'pull harder; we're to pull harder while 'e slinks about on the bank. come an' lend a hand yerself, an' be quick about it, or i'll sling ye into the river.' smiley ran at once, for he stood in great dread of his violent accomplice, and knew that the threat was a perfectly serious one. for a few moments there was a busy interchange of remarks and opinions as the baffled poachers discussed the possibilities of the case, and decided that a water-logged branch was at the bottom of the trouble. while they were talking dick was acting. no sooner did he see the watchman called off guard than he began to wriggle like an eel across the turf towards the beech, keeping the trunk of the tree between himself and the poachers. his keen knife made short work of chippy's bonds, gag included, and the raven was free. the latter slipped round the trunk, and the two scouts glided quickly back into cover of the hazels. 'good old wolf,' whispered chippy, drawing a few deep breaths. 'i felt sure ye'd be somewheer handy. i owe ye a vote o' thanks. it's carried unanermously.' 'oh, dry up, chippy,' whispered his comrade. 'as if you wouldn't have done the same for me. what luck the rascals got into a fix! that gave me a chance. but, chippy, there are keepers over there, watching them.' 'keepers!' breathed chippy in amazement. 'why don't they collar 'em?'--and even as he spoke, the scouts learned why the keepers had delayed their attack. 'now, altogether,' cried young bill at the waterside, and the five poachers bent for a last tremendous tug which would free their net. the net was freed, but not exactly in the style they hoped for. there was a sudden, keen _cr-r-r-rish!_ of snapping, parting meshes, and the net, cut clean into two by the scythe blades, came to shore in two halves, one on either bank. it gave, at the last, so suddenly that the hauling rogues were taken completely by surprise. at one moment they were pulling against a tremendous resistance; at the next there was none, and they went head over heels, all five of them, the three on the nearer side piled in a heap. upon this heap the two keepers darted, and at the same moment a keeper and a policeman appeared on the other bank. the yell of surprise which burst from the lips of the rogues as they went to earth was still ringing in the air when they felt the grip of justice fastened on their collars, and knew that the game had gone against them on every score. the gigantic navvy broke away from his captors and ran. a keeper pursued him, caught him up, and closed with him. there was a short, fierce struggle, and both men went down headlong, locked together in a savage grapple. the keeper was undermost, and the weight of his huge opponent knocked the breath out of him for the moment. the poacher leapt up, and aimed a terrific kick at his fallen opponent. the man would have received a severe injury had not the scouts swept into action at the very nick of time. 'here's the wust of 'em. cop 'im, my lads,' roared chippy, in a voice which he made as deep as a well. and dick lashed out and fetched the big fellow a staggerer with his patrol staff, and shouted also. feeling the blow, and hearing the voices at his back, the poacher thought that a crowd of foes was upon him, and took to his heels and fled through a coppice, crashing through bushes and saplings with furious lumbering speed. the scouts slipped away to see how the second keeper was getting on, and found that he had got smiley safe and sound, while the third man had vanished. upon the other bank one was captive and the other had fled. 'how are you gettin' on there, jem?' called the keeper who had secured smiley. 'oh, i've as good as got my man,' replied jem, returning to the river-bank. 'it was bill horden, that big navvy. i'll nail him to-morrow all right. but there was the rummest thing happened over yonder, 'mongst the trees.' and he burst into the story of his rescue. 'i'd have had my head kicked in if they boys hadn't run up and started bill off,' he concluded; 'but who they are, and where they sprung from, i can't make out.' the scouts, tucked away in the cover, chuckled as they heard their mysterious appearance discussed, and wondered if smiley would throw any light on the matter. but the old poacher remained sullen and silent, and now the keepers were hailed by the policeman across the river. 'bring your man down to the bridge,' he cried, 'and we'll march the two we've got off to the lock-up.' 'all right,' said the keeper who had collared smiley. 'i'll come now. jem, you get the nets an' follow us.' 'the play's over,' whispered dick in his comrade's ear, 'and we'll get back to camp.' the scouts glided away up the little brook, and soon regained their camp, where the fire was burning briskly, for the whole affair had not taken any great amount of time. they sat down and discussed the matter from the moment dick had smelt the tobacco-smoke till the final rally on the bank of the trout-pool, then turned in once more, and were asleep in two moments. dick had rearranged his side of the bed before he lay down again, and now he slept in great comfort, and slept long, for when he woke the sun was high up and the day was warm. he rubbed his eyes and looked round for chippy. to his surprise, the raven sat beside the fire skinning a couple of young rabbits. 'hallo, chippy!' cried dick, 'been hunting already? why, where did you pick those rabbits up?' 'just along the bank 'ere,' replied the raven. 'i was up best part of an hour ago, an' took a stroll, an' seed 'em a-runnin' about by the hundred. these two were dodgin' in an' out of a hole under a tree, so i went theer, an' in they popped. but i soon dug 'em out.' 'dug them out!' cried dick. 'why, i've heard that digging rabbits out is a job that takes hours with a spade.' 'so 'tis if they've got into their burrows,' returned his comrade. 'but theer's the big deep holes they live in, an' theer's little short holes they mek' for fun. they're called "play-holes," an' 'twas a play-hole these two cut into. it worn't more'n eighteen inches deep, an' soft sand. i 'ad 'em out in no time.' chippy finished skinning the rabbits, and washed them, and then they were set aside while the comrades stripped, and splashed round, and swam a little at a spot where the brook opened out into a small pool. when they were dressed again, they were very ready for breakfast. chippy fried the rabbits in the billy with another lump of dick's mutton fat, and they proved deliciously tender. the boys left nothing but the bones, and with the rabbits they finished their loaf. after breakfast they lay on the grass in the sun for half an hour working out their day's journey on the map, and pitched on a place called wildcombe chase for their last camp. it was within fourteen miles of bardon, and would give a quiet, steady tramp in for their last day. at the thought that the morrow was the last day of their delightful expedition the scouts felt more than a trifle sad; but they cheered themselves up with promises of other like journeys in the future, and took the road for a seventeen-mile march. 'do we pull our knots out for lending a hand to the keeper last night, chippy?' asked dick, laughing. 'you can pull your'n out two or three times over,' replied the raven. 'fust ye saved me; then ye let that big rogue ha' one for luck, an' that saved the keeper. me, i did naught, 'cept get collared when i wor' fast asleep.' 'didn't you?' returned dick. 'i know that shout of yours was the thing that frightened him, not the crack i hit him. he thought a six-foot policeman was at his heels. well, never mind the knots. we'll throw that in. after all, boy scouts are bound to lend a hand in the cause of law and order.' 'o' course,' agreed chippy. 'wheer's discipline if so be as everybody can do as he's a mind?' chapter xliii the broken bicycle that morning the brother scouts enjoyed an experience which gave them keener pleasure than perhaps anything else which happened during their journey. it began about eleven o'clock, when they were following a country road upon which hamlets, and even houses, were very far apart. they were approaching the foot of a very steep hill, when the raven's eyes, always on the watch, as a scout's eyes should be, caught a gleam of something glittering in a great bed of weeds beside the road. he stopped, parted the weeds with his staff, and disclosed a broken bicycle, diamond-framed, lying on its side. it was the bright nickelled handle-bar which had caught his eye. 'somebody's had a smash, and left the broken machine here,' said dick; and chippy nodded. now, dick's statement of the case would have satisfied most people, and they would have gone on their way. there was the broken bicycle, and the rider had left it. perhaps he meant to fetch his disabled machine later. in any case an untrained person would have seen nothing that he could possibly do, and would have dismissed the matter from his mind. but that would not do for the wolf and the raven. it was their duty as scouts to got to the bottom of the affair, if possible, on the chance that help was needed somehow or somewhere, and they began a careful examination of the machine and its surroundings. the cause of the accident suggested itself at once--a broken brake and a runaway down the hill, with a smash at the foot. there were two brakes on the machine. one was jammed; one had a broken wire. whether the jammed brake had been so or not before the accident they could not tell. as far as they could judge, the broken wire had left the rider helpless on the steep slope. they looked up the hill. the track came down fairly straight, until it was within a few yards of the bed of weeds. then it swerved sharply aside. a yard from the angle of the swerve lay a large stone. deduction: the front wheel had struck the stone, driven it a yard to the left, and itself had swerved violently to the right, and dashed on to a heap of stones hidden under the growth of weeds. the shock had been tremendous. how discovered? the frame was badly twisted and broken, and the machine was an excellent one; the transfer bore the name of a first-rate maker. now, what had happened to the rider? he had been pitched flying from his machine, and dick found where he had fallen. three yards from the spot where the broken bicycle lay, the weeds were flattened, as if a heavy body had dropped there. then dick gave a long, low whistle. 'by jove, chippy! look here!' he cried, and pointed with his staff. the raven hastened up, and whistled too, when he saw a patch of blood lying around a sharp-edged stone. the blood was quite fresh, and that proved the accident was recent. 'poor chap dropped with his head on the stone, and cut himself pretty badly,' said dick; and chippy nodded. 'it ain't a big machine,' he remarked. 'it's just about the size of mine,' returned dick. 'it may be a fellow about our age, chippy, by the look of the bike.' now arose the vital question: had the unlucky rider received help or not? how had he left the place--on his own feet, or with assistance? the scouts settled that in a minute's close search. they had taken care not to potter about and confuse the spoor with their own markings. they soon came to the conclusion that such marks as they could find were made by the rider when he had dragged himself to his feet. 'has anyone passed here since the accident?' said dick. 'soon find that out,' cried chippy; and the two scouts turned their trained eyes on the dusty road, which gave up instantly the knowledge its surface held. two tracks only were recent. one was made by a pair of wheels and the feet of a horse; the other by a pair of large, hobnailed shoes. the wheel-tracks were narrow, and the horse had trotted till it was some distance up the hill, then fallen into a walk. the boys decided that a gig and a labourer had passed along, both going the same way. ten yards up the hill the bicycle track crossed a track of the gig. thirty yards up the hill the ribbed dunlops had wiped out the side of a hobnailed impression. very good. the bike had come down the hill after these had passed; it had been the last thing on the road. this greatly strengthened the idea which the scouts had already formed, that no help had been available. now they began to search for the rider's line of movement from the place. dick found it: a footprint on a dusty patch in the grassy wayside track. he called to his companion. when chippy had seen it, dick set his own foot on the track; his shoe exactly covered it. now the scouts gathered their impressions together, and reconstructed in theory the whole affair. a boy of about their own age had ridden over the brow of the slope, with only one brake available on his machine. near the top of the hill the brake had broken; they regarded this as proved by the tremendous way which the machine had got on it. the rider was skilful, for his track was true, and he would have escaped had it not been for the large stone in the track, and this, it was very likely, his great speed had prevented him from seeing until too late; another point, by the way, to prove the early giving-out of the brake. he had swerved violently aside, and struck the heap of stones by the bank before he could regain control of his machine, and the smash followed. after the smash the rider had pulled himself together, and gone alone from the place; his trail ran up the hill, and it looked as if he were making for home; it was certain that he was pretty badly hurt. 'now, chippy,' said dick, 'the point for us is this: has he got safely home or not?' 'foller 'im up,' said the raven briefly; 'scout's job to mek' sure.' dick nodded, and without another word they struck the trail, and worked their way up the steep slope. 'blood,' said chippy, and pointed out two stains on the grass. 'blood it is,' replied his companion, and they pressed forward. near the top of the slope, where, just at the crown, the hill was at its steepest, the boys stopped in amazement. here was a trail with a vengeance! the roadside grass gave way to a sandy patch twenty yards long, and the patch was scored with long, dragging marks. then dick-pointed with his staff. there in the soft soil was the impression of a hand, and dark spots lay along the trail. 'by jove, chippy! the poor chap!' cried the wolf. 'the hill proved too steep for his weakness. look, he's finished it on his hands and knees.' dick bent, and laid his own hand over the clear impression on the sand. 'same size again,' he cried; 'he's just about our age, chippy.' 'it's the blood he's lost as fetched 'im down,' said the raven, his face very grave; 'but he's a good plucked un. he's fightin' his way somewheer.' at the top of the hill came a level stretch, and here the wounded rider had gathered himself together again and stumbled forward. within a very short distance the road forked, and at the fork the trail was lost. the two roads were hard and stony, and showed no trace of footmarks, and the blood had ceased to fall. 'a road apiece,' said chippy. 'yes,' said dick. 'you take right; i'll take left. first one to find anything whistles.' chapter xliv the brother scout they parted instantly, and each took his track, his eyes glued to the ground. they could work a great distance apart and yet keep in touch, for their patrol whistles were very powerful, and the day was still. chippy went a good three-quarters of a mile, and yet had found nothing. he feared he was not on the right track, for at last he came to a soft patch where spoor ought to have been. there was one new track: the man with the hobnailed boots had turned this way, but there was no other sign of recent passage. chippy was standing in hesitation, when faint and far away the shrill call of a patrol whistle came to his ears. at once he raised his own whistle to his lips and blew an answering call, then turned and darted like a hare back along the road. he gained the fork and raced along the path which dick had followed. it was clear that the wolf had found the track or the injured boy, but the raven did not trouble about searching for signs of the rider. he knew that his comrade would leave him full directions which way to travel, and his only aim now was to join dick. so he tore along the road, his eyes fixed on the centre of the track. suddenly he pulled up dead. there was a broad arrow marked heavily in the road with the point of dick's staff. the head pointed to a side-track, and chippy wheeled and flew off in the new direction. again he was pulled up. a second broad arrow, square across the way. this time the head pointed to a wicket-gate painted white. even as the raven dodged through the wicket he knew that his comrade had hit the right trail. the wicket was painted white, and a stain of red was smeared across the top bar: the injured boy had passed this way. faster and faster sped the raven along a winding field-path which led through meadow after meadow. then he saw his friend in the distance, and knew that dick was still on the trail, for he was bending low and moving slowly. the wolf turned his head as his companion came up panting. 'i'm on the spoor, chippy,' he said. 'here's blood again, spot after spot. he must have begun to bleed afresh.' 'i seed some on the gate,' said the raven; 'did yer hit the trail pretty soon?' 'no,' returned dick. 'i was in more than half a mind to turn back when i came on the boot track and knew it again. and within twenty yards i found sure signs and whistled.' he moved forward, and the raven dropped into file behind, for the track was narrow. thus it was that he, being free to glance ahead, was the first to catch sight of the object of their search. 'look, dick!' he cried. 'look, look! right ahead!' dick straightened himself, saw what his comrade meant, and the two boys darted forward. they had just turned a corner where the path wound by a tall bank, and thirty yards before them a figure lay in a heap at the foot of the bank. as they ran up to it, they uttered a cry of surprise and wonder. it was a brother scout! there he lay, his slouch hat beside him, his badge on his arm, his legs doubled under him. he had made a grand fight, a scout's fight, to gain his home after his severe accident. but now he had collapsed from utter weakness and loss of blood, and lay against the bank, his face as white as wood-ashes. his comrades pounced on him at once, placed him in an easier position, and searched for the wound. it was on the inner side of the right arm, a frightful ragged cut made by the deep point of the jagged stone, and was bleeding still. out came dick's handkerchief and chippy's knife. dick tied the handkerchief above the wound, chippy cut a short, stiff stick. then the stick was slipped inside the bandage and twisted until the handkerchief was very tight, and had checked the flow of blood. dick held the boy's arm up above his body as a further aid to check the bleeding. 'now, chippy,' he said, 'cut round and get some water in the billy.' 'right,' said the raven; 'we passed a ditch wi' some water in it a bit back.' he flew off, and soon returned with the billy full of cold water. 'now give me your handkerchief,' said dick, 'and while i dab the cut with water you push ahead and find help.' chippy nodded. 'i reckon this path runs somewheer,' he said. 'i'll foller it up.' he raced forward and disappeared round a further bend, leaving dick to do his best for their unconscious comrade. within three hundred yards chippy saw a white house before him in lee of a fir coppice. 'his place, i know!' burst from chippy's lips. the poor lad had fallen almost within call of home. how narrowly had a tragedy been averted! the raven ran on, passed through another white wicket, and entered a farmyard. a tall man was just dismounting from a cob. 'what, fred, back already?' he cried, then stopped, for he saw it was not fred, but a stranger in scout's uniform. chippy darted up to him. 'fred's your boy as like as not,' he said. 'a scout same as me. went off on his bike a bit back, eh?' 'yes,' said the farmer wonderingly; 'how do you come to know about him? i've never set eyes on you before.' 'he's met with a bit o' an accident,' said chippy, 'an' a comrade o' mine found him an' sent me to get help. seems i've come to the right place, fust send on.' 'where is he?' cried the farmer. 'just along the medder-path,' replied chippy, pointing; 'fell off his bike, an' had a nasty tumble. better bring summat to carry him.' 'is he badly hurt?' cried the farmer in alarm. 'well,' said chippy, 'theer's a nasty cut on his arm, but we've stopped the bleedin'.' the farmer called to two men at work in a barn, and a door was hastily lifted from its hinges. then all three hurried along in the wake of the raven, who led the way back. chapter xlv at the hardys' farm but scarcely had the party left the farmyard than they saw in the distance the figure of a heavily laden scout. it was dick marching along with his injured comrade on his shoulders. a few moments after chippy departed in search of help, the wounded boy came to himself under the influence of the cold water with which dick bathed the hurt and the boy's face. 'hallo!' he murmured feebly. 'what's wrong? have i got home?' 'not just yet, old chap,' said dick cheerily, 'but you'll soon be there. a friend has gone ahead for help.' 'it's only a little way now,' muttered the injured boy. 'how far?' cried dick, but he received no answer. the other was fast falling into a stupor again. dick felt very uneasy. he did not know a great deal about wounds, but he knew that his brother scout had lost a large amount of blood, and that it was very urgent that he should be swiftly conveyed to a place where he could receive proper attention. 'i'll carry him in,' thought dick. he looked at the bandage, and carefully tightened it a little again. then he turned the boy, now insensible once more, on his face, and knelt down. raising the body, dick worked his way beneath it until his right shoulder was under the other's stomach. slipping his right arm between the legs of his burden, dick gripped the wrist of the sound arm, and slowly raised himself. this was the hardest part of the task, but the wolf's strong, limber knees made sure work of it, and in a moment he stood nearly upright with the injured scout across his shoulders. then dick stepped out at a gentle, even pace, following the path chippy had taken. he was in sight of the farmhouse when the raven and his followers came streaming through the gate, and the farmer, running at full speed, was the first up to the marching scout. 'give him to me, give my boy to me,' cried the pale-faced man. 'better not,' said dick quietly; 'we mustn't move him about too much, or the bandage may work loose. is that your house?' 'yes,' cried the other. 'i'll run him right in,' said dick. 'shift the wicket.' one of the men hurried forward and swung the wicket-gate from its hinges, and, piloted by the farmer, dick crossed the farmyard, marched through a door into a passage, and thence into an ample kitchen, where, with the aid of the farmer, he set down his burden on a broad settle. as he did so, the boy's mother came hurrying in from the dairy. she gave a little gasping cry when she saw the ghastly face of her son, but at once took command in a quiet, sensible fashion. 'have you sent for the doctor?' she said to her husband. 'yes; joe's gone,' he answered. joe was one of the men. he had raced off at once to the village. the wounded boy was again lifted very carefully, and carried away to a bedroom. in a few moments the farmer came back, eager to hear how the scouts had found his son. he was astonished to find that their only clue, as he understood clues, was the seeing of the broken bicycle. it took him some time to grasp the methods by which the scouts had pieced together the evidence and followed up the wounded rider, and his thankfulness and gratitude were beyond expression. 'to think he was barely a field away from home, and couldn't move another step!' cried mr. hardy--for that was the farmer's name. 'and then you tracked him down in that clever fashion. well, if you two are not a credit to baden-powell's scouts, my name isn't george hardy.' 'your son is a scout too, i think,' said dick. 'i saw he was wearing our uniform and badge.' 'of course he is,' cried mr. hardy. 'he's fairly crazy about it--thinks of nothing else, he's so keen on it. there's a patrol over in the village yonder, and he's joined it. he's what they call a second-class scout at present, and he wants to become first-class. so off he set on his bike for a fifteen-mile ride, as it seems that's one of the things he's got to do.' 'test ,' grunted chippy. 'ah, very likely,' agreed mr. hardy. 'i don't know the numbers. hallo! that's good. here's the doctor.' he sprang up, and took the medical man to the bedroom, while joe came into the kitchen, wiping his face. 'met the doctor on the road, so that's lucky,' said joe, and then began to ask the scouts about the accident; for fred was a great favourite, and all were anxious to know how ill had befallen him. dick and chippy would now have resumed their interrupted march had they not been desirous of hearing the doctor's report on their brother scout's condition. twenty minutes passed before mr. hardy returned to the kitchen, and his face shone with joy. 'he'll pull through,' cried the farmer. 'doctor says there's a chance for him yet. but if he'd lain there half an hour longer there'd have been no mortal hope of saving him, and i can never tell you how thankful his mother and me do feel towards you.' 'oh, very likely someone would have found him in time if we hadn't tracked him,' said dick. 'never in this world,' said mr. hardy solemnly--'never in this world! that path is but little used. the village lies t'other way. he might have lain there for hours and hours.' 'well, we're very glad we were so lucky as to be of service,' said dick; 'and now we must push on our way. we're making a scouting journey, and have to finish it by to-morrow night.' 'nay, nay,' cried the farmer; 'you'll have dinner, at least, before you go. 'twill be ready soon, and i'd take it very onkindly if you left us without bite or sup.' at this moment mrs. hardy came in, and thanked the clever scouts warmly for the great service they had rendered. she seconded her husband's invitation, and as one o'clock struck in thin chimes from a tall eight-day clock, they sat down to a plentiful dinner. over the meal the talk turned on the journey the scouts were making, and the farmer and his wife were deeply interested in their adventures. 'but look here, now,' said mr. hardy; 'this fine piece of work you've done for us--and we shall never forget it--has fetched you out of your way, and cost you a lot of time.' 'we'll make it up before dark,' said dick. 'ay, by overtiring yourselves,' said the farmer. 'now, suppose i run you along a piece of your way in my trap. i've got a welsh cob that'll slip us along as if he'd but a feather behind him. i'll set you ten or twelve miles on your road, and be thankful if you'd give me the chance.' the scouts looked at each other. it was a temptation. it was an undeniable temptation. it would make the march into bardon a very simple affair on the morrow. then chippy spoke up, his keen eye reading dick's puckered brow and considering face. 'yer want to march all the way,' he said quietly. 'i didn't at first, chippy,' replied dick. 'the offer of the lift seemed splendid, and it is immensely good of you,' he went on, turning to mr. hardy. 'but i'll tell you just where i stand. i'm under a sort of agreement with my father that it's to be a genuine march all the way. if i had a lift from you, it would hardly be fair as i see it. but that doesn't apply at all to my chum; he's quite at liberty to come with you.' 'i'll take one or both, and be proud to do it,' cried the farmer. 'much obliged,' said chippy in his hoarsest notes; 'but me and my comrade march together.' nor could either of the scouts be shaken from his determination. chapter xlvi dick's accident dick and chippy took the road again an hour after dinner amid a volley of cheers raised by the labourers on the farm. the men had gathered in the stockyard to see them start, and gave them three times three and a tiger; for the hardys were very popular with their dependents, and, beyond that, the men felt respect for coolness, pluck, and skill for the sake of the qualities themselves. the two scouts felt a glow of delight in this achievement such as no words can describe. they marched on their way with a swinging stride, as if they stood on air. first they had the keen professional delight of having built up by their own observation a theory which proved true in every particular save one--that the blood found on the scene of the accident had flowed from a cut in the arm, and not in the head. but that was a mere detail; in every item that mattered their deductions had proved sound. 'i should just like to have asked him when the brake went,' said dick. 'pretty well at the top of the hill, i know.' 'must ha' done,' said chippy, 'by the spin he'd got on the machine.' they had not seen or spoken to their comrade before leaving the farm. fred hardy was in too weak a state even to know what his brother scouts had done for him, let alone seeing them or thanking them; his life still hung on a thread, but that thread would for a surety have been snapped had not the patrol-leaders discovered him and checked the bleeding. 'an' to think, arter follerin' him up, he turned out one of us,' murmured chippy. 'wasn't it splendid!' cried dick. yes, that was the very crowning touch of the adventure. they would have done it all with the most cheerful willingness for anyone, old or young, sick or poor; but to rescue a brother scout--ah! that gave a flavour to the affair which filled them with purest delight. now the scouts swung forward with steady stride; they had lost a good deal of time, and the miles stretched before them--a formidable array to be ticked off before the spires of bardon would be seen. this sweep back from newminster was longer than the road they had followed to the city, and the extra distance was beginning to tell. they made a good strong march for three hours, and then halted for a short rest; and upon this halt a rather awkward accident took place, in which dick was the sufferer. the scouts had been tempted to pause at a point where a shallow brook ran for some hundreds of yards beside the road, forming one boundary. they had just made a long stretch of hot, dusty road, and their feet were aching. the water tempted them to halt, and strip off shoes and stockings, to bathe their heated and weary feet. they sat down on the roots of a tree beside the stream, and dangled their feet in the cool running water, and found it very pleasant and refreshing. 'there's a fish acrost th' other side, just gone into a hole in the bank,' said chippy; 'wonder if i could get 'im out?' 'are you any good at catching fish with your hands, chippy?' asked his companion. 'i never had any luck that way. i've tried in that brook on the heath, but they mostly seem to slip through my fingers.' 'there's a knack about it,' replied the raven. 'now, i dessay, dick, ye tried to shut your hand round 'em.' 'yes, i did,' said the wolf. 'ah, now, that's wheer ye went wrong,' returned his friend. 'ye want to mark 'em down under a stone or in a hole, then press 'em hard agin the side, an' hold 'em theer a while. then ye can jerk 'em out when they've lost their wind a bit.' chippy proceeded to show how it was done. he slipped his shirt-sleeve back to the shoulder, and introduced his hand cautiously into the hole. he made a sudden movement, and snapped 'got 'im!' and held on. a minute later he drew out a small trout, his finger and thumb thrust into the gills, and showed it to dick. 'quarter-pounder for ye,' he said, and dexterously broke its neck. 'let's see if we can get enough for supper, chippy,' cried dick; 'they'd go down first-rate with the sandwiches;' for mrs. hardy had insisted on storing their haversacks with a plentiful supply of ham and beef sandwiches. they spent half an hour or more paddling about in the cool, clear water, but only three small ones came to hand. then chippy thrust his arm up a hole among the roots of an alder, and gave a chuckle of delight. 'a big un at last,' he cried; 'i've got 'im.' but suddenly his note changed. 'ow!' he yelled, in comic anguish, and whipped his hand out of the hole. blood was streaming from his forefinger. 'i say,' cried dick, 'what a savage trout!' ''tworn't a trout at all,' wailed the raven; ''twor a big rat, an' he bit me.' the scouts roared with laughter as chippy flipped the blood into the water. 'he'd got you that time,' chuckled dick. 'sure enough,' nodded the raven. 'i thought it wor' a pounder at the least. he's nigh on bit my finger through.' dick had his patrol staff in hand: he thrust it up the hole and tried to poke the rat out. but the hole twisted among the roots, and was a safe fortress for its wily defender. 'well, i've done all the gropin' i want, this time,' remarked chippy, washing his finger in the stream. 'yes, we must be off again,' said dick, and began slowly to wade towards the bank where their shoes and stockings lay. suddenly he started and picked up one foot. 'ah!' cried dick, 'that was sharp, and no mistake.' 'wot's the matter?' called out chippy, approaching him. 'trod on something sharp,' said dick. 'i should think yer did,' cried the raven; 'look at yer foot. we must see to this.' dick looked, and saw the clear water stained with blood as it swept past his foot. he bent down and looked at the bed of the stream. 'confound it all,' he said, 'it's the end of a broken bottle i've trodden on. no wonder it warmed me up a bit. somebody's chucked it into the brook as they passed.' the boys scrambled to the bank, and there dick's wound was examined. it was on the outer side of the right heel, not long, but deep, for the broken bottle had thrust a sharp splintered point upwards, and the cut bled very freely. they washed it well in the cold water until the blood ceased to flow, then rubbed plenty of the mutton-fat in, for that was the only kind of ointment they had. 'quite sure theer's no salt in this?' asked chippy. ''cos salt 'ud be dangerous.' 'quite sure,' replied dick. 'i boiled it down myself. it's pure fat.' chippy looked anxious. 'it's frightful awk'ard a cut in yer foot,' he said. 'how are ye goin' to march, dick?' 'oh, i'll march all right,' said dick. 'i wish, though, it had been my finger, like yours, chippy.' the raven nodded. 'true for you,' he said, 'ye don't ha' to tramp on yer hands.' they bound up the cut in a strip torn from a handkerchief, got into their stockings and shoes, and went forward. dick declared that his cut gave him little or no pain, but chippy still looked uneasy. he knew that the time for trouble was ahead, when the cut would stiffen. chapter xlvii the last camp 'we'll never see wildcombe chase to-night, chippy,' said dick, as they stepped along. 'not likely,' was the reply; 'we've a-lost too much time for that. an' now theer's that cut. what i say is this: let's mek' an early camp an' give yer foot a good rest. p'raps it'll feel better in the mornin'.' 'it isn't very bad now,' said dick, 'only a little sore.' 'h'm,' grunted chippy, 'so ye say. i know wot a deep cut like that means. we'll rest it as soon as we can.' they paused on a triangle of grass at some cross roads and got out their map. wildcombe chase was altogether too far now, and they looked for a nearer camping-ground. they saw that they were within a mile of a village, and beyond that a by-way led across a large common. on this common they resolved to make their last bivouac. they passed through the village without purchasing anything. they had plenty of food for supper in their haversacks, and though their tea and sugar and so on were finished, they did not intend to buy more. even to purchase in small quantities would leave them with some on their hands, and they were not willing to spend the money. it was no mean, miserly spirit which moved them. their scout's pride was concerned in carrying out the journey at as low a cost as possible, working their own way, as it were, through the country. for the money, as money, neither cared a rap. it must also be confessed that dick was rather keen on handing back to his father a big part of the ten shillings. dick remembered the twinkle in his father's eye, when mr. elliott handed over the half-sovereign for way money. the smile meant that he felt perfectly certain that the two boys would soon run through the ten shillings and have to turn back. dick had perfectly understood, and the more he could return of that half-sovereign the prouder be would feel. they pressed on across the common with a distant fir coppice for their landmark and goal. such a place meant a comfortable bed for the night, and as soon as they gained its shelter chippy cried halt, and forbade dick to stir another step. 'it's been gettin' wuss and wuss lately,' said chippy. 'ye don't say a word, an' ye try to step out just as usual, but it's gettin' wuss an' wuss.' 'oh, i don't mind admitting it's a trifle sore,' said dick, 'but it will be all right in the morning.' 'hope so,' said chippy. 'now you just drop straight down on that bank, an' i'll do th' odd jobs.' dick protested, but the raven was not to be moved. he forced his chum to stretch himself on a warm, grassy bank while he made the preparations for camping that night. a short distance away a rushy patch betokened the presence of water. dick pointed it out. 'i'll go over there and wash my foot,' he said. 'right,' said chippy, 'an' dab some more o' that fat on the cut.' dick found a little pool in the marshy place, and the cool water was very pleasant to his wounded foot, which had now become sore and aching. when he returned, chippy was emerging from the coppice with armfuls of bedding; he had found a framework in the rails of a broken fence which had once bounded the firwood. 'here, chippy, i can lend a hand at that,' said dick. 'there's no particular moving about in that job.' 'aw' right,' said the raven; 'then i'll set plenty o' stuff to yer hand an' see about the fire.' chippy soon had a fire going, and a heap of dry sticks gathered to feed it. a short distance away a big patch of gorse had been swaled in the spring. it had been a very partial affair, and the strong stems stood blackened and gaunt, but unburned. thither went chippy with the little axe, and worked like a nigger, hacking down stem after stem, and dragging them across until he had a pile of them also. 'they'll mek' a good steady fire for the night,' he remarked. then he seized the billy. 'what d'ye say to a drop o' milk?' he said. 'we could manage that, i shouldn't wonder. when i wor' up in the wood i seen a man milkin' some cows t'other side o' the coppice, an' now as i wor' luggin' these sticks back i seen him a-comin' down the bank. theer he goes.' chippy pointed, and dick saw a man crossing the common with two shining milk-pails hanging from a yoke. at this warm season of the year the cows were out day and night, and the man had clearly come to milk them on the spot, and thus make a single journey instead of the double one involved in fetching them home and driving them back to the feeding-ground. dick turned out twopence, and chippy pursued the retreating milkman. he returned, carrying the billy carefully. 'he wor' a good sort,' cried chippy. 'he gied me brimmin' good measure for the money.' the scouts now made a cheerful supper. chippy broiled the trout in the ashes; mrs. hardy's sandwiches were very good, and the milk was heated in the billy and drunk hot from their tin cups. supper was nearly over when a small, reddish-coated creature came slipping through the grass towards them. 'there's a weasel,' said dick, and the scouts watched it. the little creature came quite near the fire, loping along, its nose down as if following a track. then it paused, raised its head on the long snake-like neck, and looked boldly at the two boys, its small bright eyes glittering with a fierce light. 'pretty cheeky,' said dick, and threw a scrap of wood at it. the weasel gave a cry, more of anger than alarm, and glided away. within twenty minutes they saw a second weasel running along under the brake, nosing in every hole, and pausing now and again to raise its head and look round sharply on every hand. 'weasels seem pretty busy about this 'ere coppice,' observed chippy. 'no mistake about it,' agreed dick. 'do you know, chippy, i've heard that they are always active and running about before bad weather.' 'hope they've got another reason this time,' growled the raven. 'sky looks all right.' 'it does,' replied dick. the two scouts looked to every point of the compass, and raked their memories for weather signs, and compared what they remembered, but they could see nothing wrong. the sun was going down in a perfectly clear sky, and flooding the common with glorious light. there was no wind, no threat of storm from any quarter: the evening was cool, calm, and splendid. 'we'll turn in as soon as the sun's gone,' said dick, 'and be up early in the morning, and make a long day of it.' chippy nodded, and the boys watched the great orb sinking steadily towards a long bank of purple woodland, which closed in the horizon. 'wot's the home stretch run out at?' asked the haven. 'the march in from here?' said dick. 'where's the map? we'll soon foot it up.' the map was spread out, and careful measurements taken. 'rather more than twenty-one miles,' said dick. chippy whistled softly. 'we'd do it aw' right if nuthin' had happened to yer foot,' he murmured. 'we'll do it all right as it is,' cried the wolf. 'do you think i'm going to let that spoil our grand march? not likely. i'll step it out to-morrow, and heel-and-toe it into bardon every inch, chippy, my boy.' 'it's a tidy stump on a cut foot,' said the raven soberly. 'hallo! what's that?' said dick, and they looked round. a furious squealing broke out among the trees behind them, and then a rabbit tumbled out of a bush, made a short scuttling run, and rolled over in a heap. close at its heels came the bloodthirsty little weasel in full pursuit, sprang on its prey once more, and fixed its teeth in the back of the rabbit's head, when the squealing broke forth anew. up leapt the raven and took a hand in the affair at once. he caught up a stick of firewood, but the weasel ran away and left the rabbit kicking on the ground. chippy picked up the bunny and came back to the fire. 'a good fat un, he cried, 'about three-parts grown. good old weasel!' 'very kind of him to go foraging for us,' laughed dick. 'ain't it?'--and the raven showed the rabbit. it was not yet dead, and chippy at once put it out of its pain by a sharp tap on the back of its neck with the edge of his hand. this killed it instantly. 'that's a good breakfast for us,' said dick. 'we've got one or two sandwiches left as well.' 'righto,' said chippy, and turned to and skinned the rabbit, and cleaned it, ready for broiling in the morning. then they turned in, and were soon off to sleep. three hours later the raven was wakened by something moving and sniffing about his bed. he sat up, and a creature, looking in the faint light something like a dog, ran away into the coppice. next dick awoke, aroused by his chum's movements, and heard the raven grunting and growling softly to himself. 'anything wrong, chippy?' he asked. 'sommat's been here an' bagged the brekfus',' replied the raven. 'was it a dog prowling about?' cried dick. at this moment a hollow bark rang from the depths of the coppice: 'wow-wow! wow-wow!' 'there it is,' said dick; 'a dog.' 'no,' replied chippy. 'i know wot it is now. that's a fox. i'll bet theer's a vixen wi' cubs in this coppice, an' she's smelt the rabbit an' collared it.' 'then i hope that weasel will start hunting again, laughed dick, 'and chevy up another breakfast for us.' 'well, it's gone, an' theer's no use tryin' to look for it,' said chippy, and tucked himself up in his blanket again. chapter xlviii in the rain the scouts were falling off to sleep once more when they were aroused again, this time by the divinest music. a nightingale began to sing in the little wood, and made it echo and re-echo with the richest song. suddenly a faint murmuring began to mingle with the lovely notes. the murmuring grew, and the bird's song ceased. the air was filled with the patter of falling rain. 'rain!' cried dick; 'that's rain, chippy.' 'on'y a shower, p'raps,' said his comrade. 'i hope so,' returned the wolf. they felt nothing of the rain at present, for they were camped beneath a fir which stood as an outpost to the coppice, and its thick canopy was stretched above their heads. chippy sprang up and threw fresh fuel on the fire, and looked out on the night. 'theer's a big black cloud creepin' up from the sou'-west,' he said. 'that looks pretty bad for a soaker.' in a short time the scouts knew they were in for a real drenching. the patter of the rain came heavier and thicker, until it was drumming on the fir-branches in steady streams. soon great spots began to fall from the lower branches of the fir beneath which they lay. 'i've just had a big drop slap in my eye,' said dick, sitting up. 'what are we going to do, chippy?' 'got to do summat,' said the raven, 'an' quick, too, afore we're drownded out.' 'let's rig up a shelter tent with the blankets,' suggested dick; and they set to work at once. they pulled the four fence-rails which formed the framework of their bed from their places, and laid them side by side in search of the shorter ones. they proved much of the same size, so chippy went to work with the hatchet to shorten a pair, while dick began to dig the holes in which to step them. the ground was soft, and with the aid of his knife dick soon had a couple of holes eighteen inches deep. while he did this chippy had cut two rails down, and fastened a third across the ends of the shorter ones, with the scouts' neckties for cords. they had ample light to work by, for the fire had flared up bravely. now they swung up their framework of two posts and a cross-bar, and stepped the feet of the posts in the holes, throwing back the soft earth, and ramming it in with the short, thick pieces cut off the rails. this made a far stronger hold for the uprights than anything they could have done in the shape of sharpening their ends and trying to drive them down. next they took their blankets, and hung them side by side over the cross-bar, one overlapping the other by a couple of feet. with their knives they cut a number of pegs from the hard gorse stems, and sharpened them, and drove them through the blankets into the bar, pinning the blankets tightly in place. the tough gorse-wood went into the soft rail like nails, and the back of the tomahawk made a splendid hammer. they had a fourth rail, and they pegged the other ends of the blankets down to that, drew it backwards, and there was a lean-to beneath which they leapt with shouts of triumph. 'done th' old rain this time,' yelled the raven. 'now we'll keep a rousin' fire goin', and sit here and listen to it.' there was, luckily, no wind, or the scouts might not have been so jubilant; it was a heavy summer rain, pouring down strong and straight. the boys were pretty wet before they had got their shelter rigged up, but the fire was strong and warm, though it hissed vigorously as the heavy drops fell from the branches of the fir. 'any chance of putting the fire out, do you think?' said dick. 'not if we keep plenty o' stuff on it,' replied his chum. 'hark 'ow it's patterin' on the blankets!' 'they'll be jolly wet, and take some drying,' said dick. 'still, better for them to get wet than for us.' 'we ain't cut a trench,' said chippy. 'to carry off the water,' cried dick. 'no, we haven't. but we can dig that from cover, just round the patch we want to sit on.' they went to work with their knives, and cut a trench six inches deep round the pile of bedding on which they were seated, and then had no fear of being flooded out with rain-water. down came the rain faster and heavier. the whole air was filled with the hissing, rushing noise of the great drops falling on the trees, the bushes, the open ground, but the scouts sat tight under their blanket lean-to, and fed the fire steadily from the heap of sticks and stems which the raven had piled up. 'weasels for weather-prophets for me arter this,' grunted chippy; and dick nodded his head. 'it was my uncle jim who told me that about the weasels,' said dick. 'he said they're always very active before stormy weather.' 'just about fits it this time, anyway,' remarked the raven. the mention of mr. elliott brought to mind their chums in bardon. 'i wonder how our patrols are getting on without us, chippy?' said dick. 'oh, it'll gie the corporals a chance to try their 'ands at leadin',' returned the raven. 'i wish they could just see us now. they'd gie their skins to jine us.' 'rather,' laughed dick; 'this is just about all right.' it is possible that some persons might not have agreed with him, and at one o'clock in the morning might have preferred their beds to squatting on a heap of brushwood under the shelter of a blanket, the hissing fire making the only cheery spot in the blackness of the cloud- and rain-wrapped moorland. but the scouts would not have changed their situation for quarters in buckingham palace. there was the real touch about this. it seemed almost as romantic as a bivouac on a battlefield. 'well, s'pose we try for a bit more sleep,' said the prudent raven; 'long march to-morrer, yer know.' 'we've got to keep the fire up,' said dick; 'it would never do to let that out.' 'o' course not,' replied chippy; 'we must take turns to watch. now, who gets fust sleep--long or short?' he held up two twigs which he had plucked from the bedding; the ends were concealed in his hand. 'short gets first sleep,' said dick. 'aw' right,' replied the raven; 'you draw.' dick drew, and found he had the long draw. 'wot's the time?' asked chippy. 'just turned one.' 'right; then i'll sleep till three. then you wake me, and i'll tek' a turn till five. then we must be movin', for to-morrer's a long day.' 'to-day's a long day, you mean,' laughed dick. 'so it is,' replied the raven. 'it's to-day a'ready--o' course it is.' he was about to coil himself round like a dog upon the hearth, when he cast a quick glance on the heap of firewood. 'not enough theer,' he said; 'an' i ain't a-goin' to have ye hoppin' round on yer game foot.' he sprang up again, and, in spite of dick's protestations, caught up the axe and a flaming brand from the fire, and went down to the burnt gorse-patch, and hacked away till he had as many of the long stems as he could drag. 'they're a bit wet outside,' he said, as he returned; 'but they'll ketch all right if ye keep a good fire up, and theer's a plenty to last till i've finished my nap. then i can fill in my time wi' cuttin' any amount.' he curled himself up again, and was asleep in a moment. dick's watch was only two hours, but it seemed a long, long time. he kept a rousing fire going, such a fire as the rain could make no impression upon, and lost itself in the glowing depths in an angry spluttering. once the heat made him so drowsy that he dreaded the terrible disgrace of falling asleep on his post. so he stuck his head from under the shelter, and washed the sleep out of his eyes in the slashing downpour. but even after that he was half asleep again, when a sluice of cold water came in at the point where the blankets overlapped, and very obligingly ran down his neck, and fetched him up with a jump. now he had a job to do in arranging their cover, and he moved the ground rail a little back, and drew the blankets tauter. the simple shelter did its work nobly. it is true that towards the bottom the weight of water caused the blankets to sag, and there was a steady drip at that point; but it was beyond the spot where the scouts were crouching, and the sharp slant of the upper part ran the water safely over their heads. chippy woke upon the stroke of three in a manner which seemed to dick perfectly miraculous. 'how did you do it?' asked the latter. 'i should never have awakened of myself in that style.' 'yer must fix it on yer mind,' replied the raven, 'and then somehow or other yer eyes open at the right time.' 'well,' laughed dick, 'i'm afraid it's no use my trying to fix five o'clock in my mind. you'll have to wake me, chippy.' 'i'll wake ye fast enough,' returned the raven. 'now roll yerself up, an' go to bye-bye. it'll be broad daylight soon. most likely the rain will stop at sun-up.' day was breaking, but grey and chill, and the rain still poured down in lines which scarcely slanted. the scouts, however, were quite warm, for there was no wind, and the leaping fire sent ample heat into the nook where they lay. dick placed his haversack for a pillow, and laid his head on it. the sleep he had been fighting off descended on him in power, and he knew no more until chippy shook his arm and aroused him at five o'clock. his eyes opened on a very different scene from that he had last gazed upon. the rain was over; the morning was bright with glowing sunshine; the new-bathed country looked deliciously fresh and green; a most balmy and fragrant breeze was blowing; and in copse and bush a hundred birds were singing, while the lark led them all from the depths of the blue sky. 'what a jolly morning!' cried dick. 'aw' right, ain't it?' grinned the raven. 'the rain stopped a little arter four, an' the sun come out, an' it's been a-gettin' better an' better.' suddenly dick looked up. the blankets had gone. chippy laughed. 'look behind,' he said. dick looked, and saw that the raven had been very busy. he had built a fresh fire with a heap of glowing embers from the old one; the billy had served him as an improvised shovel. over this fire he had erected a cage of bent sticks, and the blankets were stretched on the framework and drying in style; the steam was rising from them in clouds. 'that's great,' said his chum; 'i wondered more than once in the night what we should do with sopping wet blankets.' 'they'll be all right in a while again.' and the raven gave them a turn. 'now we've got to wire in and hunt up a brekfus.' dick turned out the haversack which held the food they had left, but it made a very poor apology for a meal. 'i could put that lot in a holler tooth, an' never know i'd had aught,' said chippy. 'this scoutin' life mek's yer uncommon peckish.' 'rather,' cried the wolf, who was as hungry as the animal after which his patrol was named; and the two boys began to scout for their last wild, free breakfast-table. chapter xlix digging a well the two scouts crept along the edge of the coppice, eye and ear on the alert. they were hoping to surprise a rabbit in a play-hole, but though they saw plenty of rabbits scuttling to shelter, every hole proved the mouth of a burrow, and that was too much for them to attempt. they worked clean round the coppice, saw dozens of rabbits, but were never within a mile of catching one; at last they came back to their camp. 'it strikes me, chippy, we shall have to divide the scraps we've got left, tighten our belts, and strike out for the next baker's shop.' 'looks like it,' murmured the raven. 'i'm jolly thirsty too.' 'so am i,' said dick; 'let's see if we can find a pool of clear water in the swampy patch yonder.' they went down to the little marsh, but though there was plenty of water, it all appeared thick and uninviting. being scouts, the boys were very careful of what water they drank, and they looked suspiciously on the marsh pools. 'no drink nayther,' said the raven; 'we'd better get a start on us for a country wheer there's things to be got.' 'wait a bit, chippy,' replied his comrade. 'i think i know a dodge to get round this, if we only had a spade to dig with. it's a trick my uncle jim put me up to. he often used it when he was travelling in africa.' dick explained what was to be done, and the raven nodded. 'if that's all there is to it,' remarked the latter, 'i'll soon find the spades.' he returned to the camp, seized the tomahawk, and began to cut at one of the pieces chopped off the rails. in five minutes of deft hewing chippy turned the broad, flat piece of timber into a rude wooden shovel. dick seized it with a cry of admiration. 'why, this will do first-rate, old chap,' he asid. 'the ground is pretty sure to be soft.' 'go ahead, then,' said the raven. 'i'll jine ye wi' another just now.' dick went down to the swamp, and chose a grassy spot about twenty feat from the largest pool. here with his knife he cut away a patch of turf about a couple of feet across; then he went to work with his wooden spade on the soft earth below. in a short time chippy joined him, and the two scouts had soon scraped a hole some thirty inches deep. from the sides of the hole water began to trickle in freely, and a muddy pool formed in the hollow. dick now took the billy, and carefully baled the dirty water out. a fresh pool gathered, not so dirty as the first, but still far from clean. this, too, was baled out, and a third gathering also. then the water came in clear and cool and sweet, and the scouts were able to drink freely. chippy was warm in his praise of this excellent dodge, when suddenly he stopped, caught up the wooden spade, and, with a single grunt of 'brekfus ahoy!' was gone. his eye, ever on the alert, had marked a small figure scuttling along in the undergrowth of the coppice, and he was in hot pursuit. in two minutes he was back with a fat hedgehog. 'ye've tasted this afore,' he said. 'how about another try?' 'good for you, chippy!' cried dick; 'it was first-rate. will you cook it the same way?' 'there ain't none better,' replied the raven, and set to work at once to prepare and cook the prey of his spade. in the end the scouts made an excellent breakfast. they enjoyed hedgehog done to a turn--or, rather, to a moment, as there was no turning in the matter--the remains of mrs. hardy's sandwiches, and a billy of water drawn from their own well. the well and the breakfast took some time, and their start was much later than they had intended that it should be. but, on the other hand, there were the blankets to dry, and between the sun and the fire the latter were quite dry enough to pack away in the haversacks when the scouts were ready to move. dick's foot had become quite easy during the night's rest, but after a couple of miles the cut began to let him know that it was there. by the time they had covered four miles it was very painful, and he was limping a little. then they struck a canal on the side opposite to the towpath, and they sat down beside it on a grassy bank and cooled off a little before they stripped for a good swim in the clear water. when dick took off his shoe and stocking, the raven whistled and looked uneasy. the flesh all round the cut looked red and angry, and the heel was sore to the touch. 'isn't it a nuisance,' groaned dick, 'for a jolly awkward cut like that to come in and make the going bad for me? but i'll stick it out, chippy. it's the last day, and i'll hobble through somehow and finish the tramp.' 'we'll pass a little town 'bout a mile again, accordin' to the map,' said the raven, 'an' there we'll get some vaseline.' 'good plan,' said dick; 'that's splendid stuff for a cut.' they had their dip, dressed, and pushed forward. at the little town they called at a chemist's and bought a penny box of vaseline. as soon as they reached quiet parts again, dick took off his shoe and stocking, and rubbed the wound well with the healing ointment, then covered the bandage with a good layer, and tied it over the cut, and rested for half an hour. this greatly eased the pain and discomfort, and they trudged on strongly for a couple of hours. suddenly the scouts raised a cheer. above a grove of limes a short distance ahead, a church steeple sprang into sight. 'half-way!' cried dick. 'we've done half the journey, chippy. here's little eston steeple.' the raven nodded. 'we'll halt t'other side,' he said. in the village they bought a small loaf and a quarter of a pound of cheese, and those were put into chippy's haversack. at a cottage beyond the hamlet they lent a hand to a woman who was drawing water from her well, and filled their billy with drinking-water at the same time. they made another three hundred yards, then settled on a shady bank under a tall hawthorn-hedge for their midday halt. 'how's yer foot, dick?' queried the raven anxiously. 'a bit stiff,' replied dick; 'but that vaseline has done it a lot of good. i'll peg it out all right yet, chippy, my son. now for bread and cheese. it will taste jolly good after our tramp, i know.' it did taste very good, and the scouts made a hearty meal, and then lay for a couple of hours at ease under the pleasant hawthorns, now filled with may-blossom. chapter l the old higgler before they started again dick gave his foot another rubbing with vaseline, but found it hard going after the rest. 'look here, chippy,' he said, 'i mustn't halt again for any length of time. if i do, my foot may stiffen up till i can't move. we must make one long swing in this afternoon.' the road that ran from little eston in the direction of bardon had a broad strip of turf beside the way, and dick found this a great ease to his aching foot. but after a time the road narrowed, and was dusty from hedge to hedge. they passed a sign-post which said, 'two miles to little eston.' 'that's a couple scored off,' said dick; 'the miles are less than double figures now, chippy.' 'yus,' said the latter; 'an' we'll get to shotford common soon. that'll be easier walkin' than the road.' a short distance beyond the sign-post an old man leading a small donkey in a little cart met them, and they passed the time of day. 'mortal hot, ain't it?' said the old man; and the scouts agreed with him. the heat was, indeed, sweltering. it was one of those days of early summer which seem borrowed from the dog-days, and the scouts, tough as they were, were dripping with sweat as they marched along with shirt-sleeves rolled nearly to their shoulders, their shoes and stockings thickly powdered with the white dust which lay deep under foot. suddenly chippy pulled up. 'i'll 'ave that haversack o' yourn,' he remarked. 'you won't, old boy,' replied dick. 'every man shoulders his own pack on a day like this.' 'i'll have that haversack,' went on chippy calmly. 'bit too bad for a scout wi' a damaged foot to pull a load while another strolls along as easy as can be. so pass it over.' 'i won't,' said dick. 'it's no load in particular.' 'then why mek' a row about handin' it over?' queried the raven. dick was about to reply when he paused, looked ahead, and said: 'by jingo, chippy, here comes a choker. the haversacks will come handy to put our heads into.' the raven turned and saw a huge pillar of dust whirling towards them. it rose high above the hedges beyond a bend near at hand, and came on at great speed. the scouts knew that a motor-car was at the fore-foot of the pillar, and they stepped back into the shallow ditch which bordered the way. in another moment a big, heavy car, flying at terrific speed, came shooting round the bend, and as it flew it gathered the deep white dust, and hurled it thirty feet into the air; leaving the road in the wake of the car one utterly blinding, choking mass of eddying dust. the scouts threw themselves into the bank and covered their faces with their hats: it was the only way of drawing some sort of breath, and even then their throats were choked with dust till they coughed. 'nice thing, a motor-car running forty miles an hour over two inches of dust,' remarked dick in ironical tones. 'it 'ud serve 'em right to bust their tyres on a broken bottle end,' murmured chippy. 'it ain't safe to scoot along like that on these 'ere narrow roads.' 'it's to be hoped they eased up before passing the old man and his donkey-cart,' said dick. 'the wind of their passing would be enough almost to upset him.' 'that's wot they've done,' cried chippy suddenly. 'look! look! his cart's in the ditch.' dick looked, and saw through the thinning cloud that the poor old man was in distress. his cart was turned over, and the donkey was struggling on its side. the scouts ran back at full speed to help him. 'what's wrong?' cried dick. 'did the car hit you?' ''twor comin' a main sight too fast,' cried the old man, 'an' just as it passed, the noise o' it med jimmy start round an' swerve a bit, an' suthin' stickin' out caught him on the shoulder an' knocked him into the ditch as if he'd been hit wi' a cannon-ball.' 'and they never stopped or asked what was the matter?' cried dick. 'not they,' said the old man; 'on they went as fast as iver.' 'what cads!' cried dick. 'did you see the number, chippy?' 'no,' replied the raven. 'too much dust.' 'there were four men in it,' went on the old man, 'an' they looked back at me, but they niver pulled up.' the scouts were loud in their anger against the inconsiderate motorists, and they were perfectly right. the truth was that the men had fled in fear. a chauffeur had taken his master's car without permission to give some of his fellow servants a run, and they dreaded detection, which would get them into trouble at home. however, the car had gone, and its number was not known, and within half a mile there was a meeting of cross roads where the motorists could turn aside without passing through the village. the comrades gave their attention to the matter immediately in hand, and helped the old man to unharness the struggling donkey and draw the little cart back. the poor beast did not attempt to rise when it was freed. there was a cut on the shoulder where it had been struck, but the wound was not bleeding much, and the old man did not think the hurt was so bad as it proved to be. 's'pose we tried to get jimmy on his legs,' he proposed, and the two scouts sprang to help him. they were trying to raise the poor brute when a gamekeeper with his gun under his arm came through a gate near at hand. 'hallo, thatcher, what's wrong?' he called out. 'why, 'tis one o' these here danged motor-cars,' replied the old man. 'gooin' faster than an express train along this narrow way, an' knocked jimmy into the ditch.' the gamekeeper came up, and at the first glance called upon them to lay the donkey down again. 'let me have a look at him,' he said. 'that cut's nothing. there's worse than that cut, i fancy.' 'i hope no bones have a-gone,' said the donkey's master. 'that's just where it is, thatcher,' said the gamekeeper, after a short examination. 'the poor beast's shoulder is a-broke right across. he'll ne'er stand on his four legs again.' thatcher uttered a cry of distress. 'broke across, ye say, keeper! then what's to be done with him?' 'nothing,' said the keeper; 'there's nothing ye can do to cure him. the poor brute's in agony now. look at his eyes!' 'nothin' ye can do,' repeated the owner in a dull voice, his eyes almost as full of distress as those of his injured helpmate. 'an' jimmy were the best donkey as iver pulled a cart.' 'nothin' at all,' said the keeper, ''cept a charge o' no. ,' and he tapped the breech of his gun significantly. 'shoot him?' cried old thatcher. 'it's that or let him die slowly in misery,' replied the keeper. 'if ye like i'll put him out of his pain before i go on, but i can't stay long, for i've got to meet someone in hayton spinney, and i ought to be there now.' 'you're quite sure nothing can be done?' said dick to the keeper. 'perfectly sure, sir,' replied the man; 'the shoulder bone's clean gone. if it wor' a hunter worth three hundred guineas nothing could be done to save the creature's life.' jimmy was not worth three guineas, let alone three hundred, but when the keeper had mercifully ended the poor brute's sufferings with a cartridge, and hurried on to his appointment, he left old thatcher heart-broken beside the body of his faithful servant. 'i dunno what i'm goin' to do now!' cried the poor old fellow to the scouts, who remained at his side to see what help they could render. 'ye see, wi' jimmy to help me i've med a few shillin's a week, doin' a bit o' higgling an' odd jobs in carryin' light things. that's kept me out o' the work'us. but i'm a lost man now. there's nowt but the union for me, i doubt. an' i've fowt hard to keep out o' that.' the scouts tried to console him, but the loss of his donkey was a heavy blow to the old higgler. 'where am i goin' to get another?' he said. 'i'm a bit short-handed now wi' my rent, for i've been ill a good bit on an' off last winter. eight-an'-twenty shillin' i gave for jimmy; an' i ain't got eight-an'-twenty fardens to spare.' he heaved a bitter sigh, and began to strip the harness off the companion of his daily journeys. the scouts helped, and the harness was tossed into the little cart. that had escaped very well in the overset: one shaft was cracked, and that was all. 'joseph thatcher, little eston,' read dick, from the side of the cart. 'ay, that's me,' said the higgler. 'joe thatcher: lived in little eston all my life.' 'and you were on your road home?' went on dick. 'just comin' back from town,' replied the old man. 'i'd been wi' a load of butter an' fowls an' what-not for two or three neighbours, an' left the things at different shops. an' now i must get my cart home somehow an' tell my neighbours what's happened.' 'i see,' said chippy. 'that's aw' right. i'll run yer cart home for ye.' 'yes,' said dick; 'we'll soon run it home for you.' 'no, yer don't,' said the raven to his friend. 'ye'll stop here an' tek' care o' the traps till i get back;' and with these words he whipped off haversack and jacket, and tossed them on to the bank. 'oh, that won't do, chippy,' cried dick; 'that's just a trick to prevent me lending a hand.' 'trick or no trick, it's just wot 'ull happen,' said the raven firmly. 'it's rather more'n two miles back to eston--that's four goin' an' comin', an' you wi' a game foot. no, not an inch back do ye stir. besides, it gies me the chance to strip to the work nice an' comfortable.' 'but you can't shift that cart by yourself,' cried dick. chippy uttered a grunt of scorn. 'there's nothing in it 'cept the harness,' he said. 'can't shift that, eh?' he took the shafts and ran the cart into the way as if it had been a big wheelbarrow: there was surprising strength in his slight but sinewy figure. 'come on, gaffer!' cried chippy, and he trundled the cart rapidly away down the road, leaving dick on guard perforce beside his comrade's equipment. within three-quarters of an hour chippy was back, travelling at scout's pace. 'you've been jolly quick, chippy,' shouted dick. 'had a bit o' luck,' returned the raven, wiping his sweat-soaked face; 'met a farmer's cart goin' into eston, and tied th' old man's cart at the back, so i didn't 'ave to go all the way.' 'what about the motor-car?' asked dick. 'had it run through the village?' 'not it,' replied the other; 'turned sharp to the left at the cross-roads.' dick got out the map, and the scouts saw that the driver knew the country; he had taken the most solitary road of the neighbourhood. 'a set of sneaks,' said dick. 'bad uns,' agreed his chum. 'i say, chippy, it was no end good of you to cut off like that with the cart, but i would rather have lent a hand,' cried dick. 'let's 'ave a look at that 'ere foot,' was the raven's only reply. the foot was looked at, anointed with vaseline, bound up afresh, and then the march was resumed. dick now had a very bad quarter of an hour, for his foot had stiffened rather while chippy was away. but he set himself to tramp it out, and when they passed a station beside the road, and heard an engine whistle, and saw from a bridge the rails running away towards bardon, he only limped on faster, and put aside the temptation of a lift in by train. after a while his foot became more easy, and he was able to set it down without giving any decided indication that there was something amiss. for this he was very glad before long, when the two scouts met friends who would soon have spotted a lame walker, and have cut his march short. chapter li the welcome home it was about half-past four when they gained a point where the country began to wear a familiar look. 'shotford corner!' cried chippy. 'we'll see bardon from the cob.' the cob, as chippy called it, was a small knoll on which stood a finger post, with many arms to guide wayfarers along the roads which met at shotford corner. the boys gained the knoll by the smallest of the side-roads which ran in at that point. they paused beneath the finger-post, and looked ahead. there was their old familiar heath spreading away to the distant spires of bardon, and from this point on they knew every step of the way. 'six miles to bardon' was on the arm above their heads. 'we'll be home in less than a couple of hours now,' said dick. 'we'll put this journey to our credit easily enough, chippy.' suddenly behind them a wild honk-honk--h-o-n-k of a motor-horn broke out. the boys looked along the road, and saw a car coming towards them at full speed with two figures in it. the driver was performing a fantasia on his horn; the passenger was waving his cap. 'why,' cried dick, 'it's my father out in his car with uncle jim.' 'well, here you are,' shouted mr. elliott, as the car sped up to them. 'we've been scouring these roads all the afternoon in search of you. how have you got on?' 'oh, splendid, father--splendid,' cried dick. 'we should like to start again on monday, shouldn't we, chippy?' 'it 'ud suit me fust rate,' said the raven, respectfully saluting his employers. 'well,' laughed mr. elliott, 'i don't know about that. i'm afraid there'd be trouble with your headmaster and with mr. malins, who has rather missed slynn.' the raven saluted again, blushing with pleasure to find that the manager had missed his services. 'you look uncommonly fit, the pair of you,' said mr. jim elliott, marking the brown faces, the lean, lithe look of the hardy, toughened scouts. 'yes, uncle, we feel up to the work all round, and we've had a grand time.' 'have you had plenty to eat?' asked dick's father. 'plenty, father,' cried dick;' and we've had the jolliest times sleeping. three nights we camped, one we slept in a hayloft, and one in the cabin of a barge.' 'lodgings have been cheap, then?' chuckled mr. elliott; 'but how much of the second half-sovereign have you spent for food?' dick laughed in triumph, and fetched out the bit of gold. 'not a stiver,' he said; 'and there's the best part of the other half-sovereign too.' and he laid a heap of silver and copper in his father's hand. mr. elliott counted it in surprise. 'why, there's seventeen and fourpence farthing here,' he said. 'do you mean to say you two have been out for a week, and only spent two and sevenpence three-farthings all told?' 'we do,' cried dick. 'we've won and earned fairly all the rest of our food. i'll tell you everything, and you shall judge for yourself, father. but it's too long a tale to go into now.' mr. elliott stared through his goggles in wonder at the money. 'well, jim,' he said at last to his brother, 'these scouts of yours can look after themselves, it seems.' 'that's the chief thing that baden-powell's scouts are expected to learn,' said the instructor, smiling; 'it is quite clear that dick and slynn have picked up the art in great form.' 'done the whole thing on two and sevenpence three-farthings!' repeated mr. elliott, his wonder growing as he thought it over. 'dick, you'd better come into the business straight away. you'd be able, i should say, to give your uncle and myself most valuable advice on the subject of cutting down expenses.' dick laughed, for his father's surprise filled him with the utmost delight. chippy, too, was on the broad grin. 'here,' said mr. elliott suddenly, 'take it; it's yours. share it up between you.' he poured gold, silver, and copper into the hat which dick promptly held out for the money. 'i'm not going to say "no" to that offer, father,' said dick; 'for i've a use for my half of the money.' 'same here,' murmured chippy; 'the party's name is joseph thatcher, little eston.' 'now, chippy,' cried dick, 'how in the world did you know what was in my mind?' the raven chuckled. 'i knowed,' he murmured, and would say no more. dick explained who joseph thatcher was, and what misfortune had befallen him. 'he gave twenty-eight shillings for the donkey,' concluded dick, 'and this will go a long step towards setting him up again. the poor old chap's horribly frightened of the workhouse at present.' 'ah,' said his father, 'the road-hog is the curse of decent motor-drivers. one black sheep can cover the whole flock with discredit. well, now, boys, jump in, and i'll run you into bardon in triumph.' 'oh no, no, father,' cried dick; 'thank you very much, but that would spoil the whole thing. we must finish it out to the last step on foot.' 'what spartans!' said mr. elliott; 'still ready to face six miles of hot, dusty road after a week's tramping.' 'yes, father, we must do it,' replied dick. 'to finish up in a motor-car would take the shine off the whole affair.' 'well, well, as you please,' laughed mr. elliott; 'then, you can hand that money back. your uncle and i are out for a spin, and we'll slip over as far as eston, and see mr. joseph thatcher, and console him for his loss with your offering. if one motorist upset him, it's only right for another to do the friendly.' dick hailed this proposal with delight, and handed back the seventeen shillings and four-pence farthing. 'i'll be bound the poor old chap will get enough to buy a new donkey before all's done,' chuckled dick. 'can't say,' said mr. elliott, preparing to back and fill till he had his car round; 'depends on whether your uncle's got any loose silver to throw away. well, we shall catch you up again long before you reach bardon.' the car sped away, and the boy scouts watched it for a moment, then marched on down the bardon road. 'bit of a temptation, worn't it, to tumble into the car?' said chippy. 'oh, chippy, that would have spoilt it all!' cried dick. 'my foot's giving me beans rather, but i'm not going to chuck it for a six-mile tramp.' 'i know just how ye feel,' replied the raven; ''twould ha' seemed to tek' the polish off, but i was thinkin' o' yer foot.' 'that will be all right after a day or two's rest,' said dick; 'but with the end of the journey in sight i mean to stump it out.' a couple of miles on he was stumping it out steadily, when all thoughts of lameness and soreness were put to flight by a joyous vision; for just as they gained the heath two files of marching figures came into sight in the distance. the familiar uniforms at once caught the eye of the two patrol-leaders. 'scouts!' cried chippy. 'our own patrols!' yelled dick. 'look, chippy; our patrols have come out to meet us!' at this instant the two marching figures were seen by the advancing patrols, and on dashed wolves and ravens, eager to greet their leaders. dick and chippy hurried to meet them, and at the next moment the two leaders and their comrades met, and there was such an outburst of cheering, questioning, shaking hands, and chanting of the scouts' war-song and chorus--a general merry babel of welcome and greeting! the first to recover were the corporals, who had been in charge while the leaders were absent. they gave orders for the patrols to line up, and the scouts obeyed instantly. wolves on the right of the way, ravens on the left, they formed up shoulder to shoulder to be inspected by their leaders. dick and chippy each went along his own line, and saw that the men were turned out in proper style, and the inspection was careful and thorough. everything was found correct, and the corporals were congratulated on the manner in which they had handled the patrols during the absence of the leaders. then review order was broken up, and the patrols gathered in cheerful, laughing, chattering groups to discuss the week's march with the heroes of the day. the wolf patrol was a member short. no. had left the town during the week, and his place was vacant among dick's followers. 'i say, dick,' said billy seton, corporal of the wolves, 'there's a fellow been following us from the town. he's kept at a distance, dodging behind bushes and gorse on the heath, but i'm sure he was after us. i've looked back a dozen times, and seen him making ground when he thought he wouldn't be observed.' 'that's odd,' said dick. 'why should anyone want to follow you?' 'to see where we were going, i suppose,' replied billy; 'and though i've never had a fair look at him, there seemed to me something familiar about the chap. i can't make it out.' 'where is he now?' asked dick. 'haven't seen him for quite a bit,' replied billy; 'but i've an idea he's watching us from somewhere.' the words had scarcely fallen from billy's lips when a boy in civilian dress stepped from the shelter of a clump of hollies and walked swiftly towards the patrol. 'why, it's arthur graydon!' cried dick in surprise. 'so it is,' said billy; 'no wonder i thought i knew him.' yes, it was the lost leader of the wolves who now came striding up to his old friends, as the latter stared at him in wonder. arthur's face was pale, and his teeth were clenching his under-lip; but he had made up his mind, and he said what he had to say like a man. he walked up amid a perfect silence, and saluted the two leaders, who now stood side by side. 'look here, dick,' he began--and his voice shook a little--'i heard, by accident, of this march to meet you, and i took the chance of coming when the patrols were together. i'm awfully sorry i made such an ass of myself in the beginning. i've been miserable every day since i left the patrol, and i should like, above everything, to get back to it. i know i behaved badly to slynn, and insulted him, when he had given me no cause at all. i'm sorry, slynn. will you shake hands?' 'won't i?' roared chippy, his honest face ablaze with pleasure and friendship. 'an' proud to--prouder 'n i can tell yer.' and the two lads clasped each other's hands in a hearty grip, while both patrols gave vent to their excitement in a tremendous outburst of the scouts' chorus, stamping their feet and clashing their staves together in joyous uproar. every boy had been touched deeply by arthur's speech. his pale face and shining eyes had told of the effort it had cost him to make it, and now everybody set up as much noise as he could to celebrate the reconciliation, and to work off the constraint of the moment. when chippy dropped arthur's hand, dick seized it. 'i'm jolly glad to see you back, arthur, old chap,' he cried. 'we shall be delighted to have you in the patrol once more.' 'thanks awfully, dick,' said arthur. 'i heard no. had gone. if i can only get his place, that's what i should like.' 'it's yours, old fellow,' said dick, 'and long may you wave!' 'h-o-n-k!' a long blast of the motor-horn warned the patrol that mr. elliott's car was close upon them. the scouts recognised their instructor seated beside the driver, and formed up to receive him with the full salute. 'i see you've got a guard of honour back to town,' laughed dick's father, as he brought the car up between the two lines of scouts. 'yes, father,' cried dick; 'we think it was immensely good of them to come out to meet us.' the instructor leaned over the side of the car towards the line of the wolves. 'arthur!' he cried, 'this is splendid to see you among the wolves again.' 'yes, mr. elliott,' said arthur graydon, saluting. 'dick has given me a place there was to spare, and i'm glad to get it.' the driver blew a long toot on his horn to call attention to something he had to say. 'wolves and ravens,' he called out, 'i beg to invite you all to conclude your march this afternoon at my house. with your permission, your instructor and i will now go ahead to announce your arrival, and to see that preparations are made to welcome you in a fitting manner.' and at the next moment the car sped away amid the ringing cheers of the scouts, who now felt certain that the day was to close with a noble feed. the march was at once resumed, and the scouts tramped over the heath to bardon chanting the ingonyama chorus in honour of their leaders. the corporals sang the opening phrase, and then the patrols swept in with a joyous roar of 'invooboo!' and struck the ground with their staves in time to the long-drawn notes. and at their head marched the brother scouts, their journey nearly ended--the journey which they had made in true scouting style--helpful and courteous to all, hardy, resolute, and enduring, staunch to their oath and their badge, bearing themselves at all points as true knights in the chivalry of baden-powell's boy scouts. the end other fine stories by the same author large crown vo, price /- net each the red men of the dusk a tale of the welsh mountains in the last days of the commonwealth containing illustrations in sepia by lawson wood. "a capital book for boys--and men; full of adventure, life and go.... told with fascinating interest that never flags."--_manchester courier_. "a strenuous and exciting story ... told with vigour and skill. mr. finnemore has never given us anything finer."--_daily chronicle_. two boys in war-time reissue, containing full-page illustrations by lawson wood. "mr. finnemore's story is, however, as full of exciting elements as it is possible to put into a story of adventure. altogether the book is certainly one that may be heartily recommended to those who like their fill of lightning and exciting episode."--_daily telegraph_. the story of a scout containing full-page illustrations by g. e. robertson. this finely-written story deals with the experiences of an english boy living in spain during the peninsular war, and his exciting adventures will be read with keen delight by boys the world over. the bushrangers of black gap containing full-page illustrations by w. p. caton woodville. "a series of seven short stories of adventure on land and sea. each story contains a particular feature of its own, and is told in an interesting manner. the book is full of thrilling incident and will certainly appeal to boys."--_teachers' times_. the yellow pirates containing full-page illustrations by w. p. caton woodville. a series of six short stories of adventure similar to "the bushrangers of black gap." large crown vo, price /- net. the renegade containing full-page illustrations in colour by allan stewart. "boys will revel in this thrilling book. we never felt so realistically on board a slave galley before, or understood what part the red galley of the knights of st. john played on the spanish main."--_cork constitution_. jack haydon's quest reissue, containing full-page illustrations in colour by j. jellicoe. "mr. john finnemore has the art of awakening interest in the first page of his work, and never lets it flag until he has guided us to the solution of his mystery.... we have to follow jack haydon into a series of the most exciting adventures that a savage people and a wild country ever conspired to provide."--_pall mall gazette_. the story of robin hood and his merry men containing full-page illustrations in colour by allan stewart. "he will be a happy boy who gets this book for a present."--_edinburgh evening news_. "a capital narrative."--_athenaeum_. the wolf patrol a few copies of the large edition, containing full-page illustrations in colour by h. m. paget, are available. price /- net. published by a. & c. black, ltd., , & , soho square, london, w. by the same author the renegade containing full-page illustrations in colour by allan stewart. price /- net. red men of the dusk containing full-page illustrations in sepia by lawson wood. price /- net. jack haydon's quest containing full-page illustrations in colour by j. jellicoe. price /- net. two boys in war-time containing full-page illustrations by lawson wood. price /- net. the story of a scout containing full-page illustrations by g. e. robertson. price /- net. the story of robin hood and his merry men containing full-page illustrations in colour by allan stewart. price /- net. the bushrangers of black gap containing full-page illustrations by w. p. caton woodville. price /- net. the yellow pirates containing full-page illustrations by w. p. caton woodville. price /- net. a. & c. black, ltd., , & , soho square, london, w. agents. america the macmillan company, & , fifth avenue, new york. australasia oxford university press, , flinders lane, melbourne. canada the macmillan company of canada, ltd., st. martin's house, , bond street, toronto. india macmillan & company, ltd., macmillan building, bombay, , bow bazaar street, calcutta, indian bank buildings, madras. [illustration: cover art] other books for young people with illustrations in colour aesop's fables andersen's fairy tales blossom. a fairy story bunyan's pilgrim's progress count of monte cristo grimm's fairy tales gulliver's travels john halifax, gentleman mr. midshipman easy swiss family robinson the children of the new forest the enchanted forest the little fairy sister the little green road to fairyland the water babies (kingsley) published by a. & c. black, ltd., , & soho sq., london, w. the scouts of seal island agents _new york_ the macmillan company _melbourne_ the oxford university press _toronto_ the macmillan company of canada _bombay calcutta madras_ macmillan and company, ltd. "they landed safely on the lee side of the stone pier."--_page_ . the scouts of seal island by percy f. westerman author of "sea scouts of the petrel'" "the sea monarch" etc. _with eight illustrations in colour by_ ernest prater a. & c. black, ltd. , and soho square, london, w. printed in great britain _first published in_ _this edition published in_ _reprinted in) , , , contents chap. i. sir silas disapproves ii. dick atherton's good turn iii. the patrol leader's dilemma iv. off to seal island v. the arrival vi. a spoilt breakfast vii. the mysterious footprints viii. the missing thole-pins ix. at the lighthouse x. the wreck xi. how came paul tassh on seal island? xii. the burglary xiii. flight xiv. phillips' discovery xv. the exploration of the tunnel xvi. trapped xvii. the mysterious yacht xviii. hot on the trail xix. the first capture xx. a good night's work list of illustrations "they landed safely on the lee side of the stone pier" _frontispiece_ "look here, young gentleman, can you give me any information as to what occurred?" "he slipped over the cliff and was slowly lowered" "quite exhausted, the first survivor was assisted to the most sheltered position on the ledge" "in broken-step form the scouts carried their comrade towards the camp" "'in the name of thunder, what have you scouts been up to?'" "throughout the rest of the afternoon the wolves kept on the watch" "'hands up instantly or i'll fire!' ordered mr. buckley sternly" the scouts of seal island chapter i sir silas disapproves "lads," exclaimed scoutmaster leslie trematon, "i am sorry to announce a disappointment, but i trust you will receive the news like true scouts and keep smiling." the scoutmaster paused to note the effect of his words. practically every boy of the "otter" and "wolf" patrols knew what was coming, but one and all gave no sign of disgust at the shattering of their hopes. two or three pursed their lips tightly, others set their jaws grimly, while a few looked at their comrades as if to gauge the state of their feelings on the matter. "we must, i'm afraid, give up all hope of our cornish trip and set our minds upon a fortnight's camp at or in the neighbourhood of southend," continued mr trematon. "i had an idea, when i approached sir silas gwinnear, that my application would be favourably considered, and that in less than a week's time you would be enjoying the pure bracing air of seal island. unfortunately, sir silas does not see eye to eye with us. his opinion of scouts in general is not a flattering one. of course every man is entitled to his own opinion, but at the same time i sincerely trust that sir silas may be convinced that his estimate of the qualities of scouts is inconsistent with facts. i would not hold your confidence if i did not read his letter to you. at the same time i feel sure you will make due allowances for the somewhat scathing strictures upon boy scouts in general." leslie trematon, the third master of collingwood college, was a tall, broad-shouldered muscular cornishman of twenty-four years of age. he was just over six feet in height, his complexion was ruddy, though tanned by exposure to the sun, while his crisp, light brown hair and kindly blue eyes gave him a boyish appearance. he had been two years assistant master at collingwood college, and, although a strict disciplinarian during school hours, was the idol of his scholars. out of harness he was almost as one of them: full of spirit, keen on games, and sympathetic with lads who sought his confidence. a little more than twelve months previously, mr trematon had raised four patrols of scouts amongst the pupils of collingwood college, and the troop was officially designated the st north london. trematon saw possibilities in the scout movement. his superior, the rev. septimus kane, the dignified and somewhat old-fashioned principal of the college, did not regard the newly raised scouts in a favourable light. he set his face against new institutions; but, finally, on the scoutmaster's representations he grudgingly consented to give the experiment a term's trial. at the end of the first term he condescended to admit that the st troop justified its existence. more recruits came in, and the school-games club flourished more than it had done before. scouting went hand in hand with sport, and the collingwood college football team attained a higher place in the junior league than it had since its formation. the second term gave even better results. the whole school seemed infected with the spirit. there was more esprit de corps, the physical condition of the boys was decidedly on the improve, while the midsummer examination percentage of passes caused the rev. septimus to beam with satisfaction and the governors to bestow lavish praise upon their headmaster and his staff of assistants. even monsieur fardafet, the second french master, noticed the change in the boys' behaviour, and weeks went by without his having to complain to the head about the conduct of certain irreconcilables who had hitherto been the worry and despair of his existence. the fact was that the whole college was imbued with the principles of scoutcraft. every boy realised that it was incumbent upon him to develop his individual character, and that it was impossible for his masters to confide in him if he failed to confide in them. it had always been a strong point with the rev. septimus to impress upon his assistants the necessity of appealing to a boy's honour, but hitherto there had been a flaw in the working of the head's scheme. the boys regarded any advance on their masters' part with suspicion. it was their firm belief that masters existed simply and solely for the purpose of driving in the dreary elements of knowledge. but when mr leslie trematon arrived upon the scene matters began to improve, till, at the time our story opens, a state of harmony existed betwixt the masters and scholars of collingwood college. the number of patrols had now increased to ten. of these the "otters" and the "wolves" were composed solely of boarder who, through various circumstances, were unable to spend their holidays in the home circle. mr trematon looked upon it as a pleasurable duty to give up a portion of his summer vacation to these two patrols, and, with this object in view, had approached sir silas gwinnear to obtain his permission to have the use of seal island for a fortnight in august. sir silas was a city magnate whose name was generally to the fore in every large commercial transaction that would bear close investigation. with the exception of a comparatively brief holiday, invariably spent on his large cornish estate near padstow, sir silas stuck closely to his business. he was a self-made man, whose wealth had been accumulated by sheer hard work and indomitable determination. in his earlier days he knew mr trematon's father intimately, and the young scoutmaster took decorous advantage of this friendship to ask a boon for his scouts. seal island, which formed but a small portion of sir silas' estates, is situated off the north cornish coast, being separated from the shore by a stretch of deep water barely a quarter of a mile in width. it is a little more than half a mile in length, and half that distance across its widest part. roughly, the island resembles the shape of the body of a pig, the back being seawards. it is uninhabited, save for numerous rabbits and countless sea-birds. its north-western side is honeycombed with caves; a romantic ruin, that tradition ascribes to the work of a saintly hermit, occupies the highest position, which is two hundred and fifty feet above the sea. needless to say the scouts voted that seal island was an ideal place to spend a holiday, and one and all looked for the expected reply. and now sir silas gwinnear had replied, and their hopes were dashed to the ground. "i may as well let you hear what sir silas says," continued mr trematon. "you will then be able to know what some people think of us scouts:-- "dear mr trematon, "i must apologise for the slight delay that has arisen in replying to your letter of the nd. "it is an unpleasant thing to have to refuse the request of the son of an old friend of mine, but in so doing i merely adhere to the principles i am about to explain. "i give you my reasons. they may not meet with your approval, but they are certainly what i believe to be correct. in the first place, i strongly disapprove of the boy scout movement. to me, a man of strong commercial instincts, the whole scheme suggests militancy and is merely the thin end of the wedge of 'national conscription,' which to a man of peace is utterly abhorrent. "nor can i see that any useful purpose can be served by grotesquely garbed youths running about the country with broomsticks in their hands and wild cat-calls on their lips. the very privacy of a country ramble is menaced by the apparition of an inquisitive youth in a scout's hat peering through a gap in the hedge. "to-day, too much time is wasted in outdoor amusements--in fact, in amusements of all sorts. the commercial vitality of the nation is seriously threatened. i can assure you that i've had the greatest difficulty in obtaining a suitable junior clerk. there were scores of applicants for the post, but in almost every case the lads wanted to know what holidays were given, and what the hours were on saturdays--in order, i suppose, that they can go to football. "by granting you permission to take your scouts to seal island i realise that i should be tacitly violating my principles. it is not because of the damage the boys might do: there is very little to harm on the island. i trust, therefore, that you will understand the reason of my refusal, and accept my assurance of regret at not being able to accede to your request.--yours faithfully, "silas gwinnear." "jolly hard lines, sir," exclaimed jack phillips, the second of the "otters." "can't you write and explain that his ideas are wrong." "hardly," replied the scoutmaster, with a smile. "sir silas does not ask for my opinion. all the same it is up to us to show him that he is in error. all great organisations are misunderstood by some, especially during the initial stages. time alone will wear down opposition, and in due course i sincerely hope that sir silas may have cause to change his opinions. meanwhile, lads, we must not be downhearted. i must say you appear to take the bad news in a true scout-like spirit. perhaps, after all, we will have almost as jolly a camp at southend, although i am sorry we are not going to sample the glorious cornish climate. but now let's to work: its bridge building to-night, and there's quite a lot to be done in the time." five minutes later the old gym., which the rev. septimus kane had, as a token of appreciation, handed over to the sole use of the scouts, was a scene of orderly bustle. for the time being the lads had put seal island from their minds. chapter ii dick atherton's good turn on the following wednesday afternoon leader dick atherton, of the "otters," was invited to his chum gregson's to tea. gregson was a day boarder whose people lived at brixton. he wished very much to join the scouts, but his parents strongly objected. this was a source of keen disappointment both to gregson and atherton, for instinctively they realised that there was bound to be an ever-widening gap in their friendship. dick atherton was a good specimen of a british school-boy. he was sixteen years of age, fairly tall, and with long supple limbs and a frame that showed promise of filling out. at present he was, like a good many other lads of his age, growing rapidly. plenty of outdoor exercise and an abundance of plain wholesome food had turned the scale, for instead of becoming a lank, over-studious youth he showed every promise of developing into a strong, muscular man. one of the first to avail themselves of mr trematon's offer to become scouts, dick atherton was by the unanimous vote of the patrol appointed leader of the "otters." he took particular pains to prove himself worthy of the honour his comrades had paid him, with the result that he soon gained his ambulance, cycling, pathfinder, swimming and signalling badges. scoutmaster trematon was strongly opposed to the idea of any lad hastily qualifying for badges merely for the sake of having the right sleeve decorated by a number of fanciful symbols; he preferred to find a scout making himself thoroughly proficient, and keeping himself up to a state of efficiency in a comparatively few number of subjects, rather than a slipshod scramble for badges that could only be regarded in a similar light to the trophies of a "pothunter." dick atherton, as did most of his comrades, saw the good sense of his scoutmaster's wishes. therein he laid the foundations of his success in after life: he specialised. it would be hard to find another scout in the whole of the london troops who could excel atherton in any of the branches he had taken up. to the scouts' motto "be prepared" he instinctively added another, "be thorough." shortly after six o'clock atherton bade his friends farewell and started on his return journey to collingwood college. it was imperative that he should be back before a quarter to eight in time for evening "prep." a heavy mist, almost a fog, had settled down earlier in the afternoon, driving most people to the tubes. atherton, however, preferred to take a motor-bus. as the vehicle was passing under the railway viaduct in the waterloo road it skidded on the greasy surface and dashing into the kerb smashed the nearside fore-wheel. the scout promptly alighted, thinking that perhaps he might be of assistance. to his request the motorman curtly told him to "chuck it and clear out," advice that atherton deemed it expedient to carry out. just then he remembered that to-morrow was fred simpson's birthday. simpson was the leader of the "wolves," and a jolly good sort, and atherton resolved to spend the remainder of his weekly allowance in some small present for his chum. stamp-collecting was one of simpson's hobbies, and atherton knew that it was his ambition to get a set of servian "death masks." "i saw a set in a shop in the strand only last week," thought atherton. "i'll take a short cut across hungerford bridge, buy the stamps if they are still to be had, and pick up the tube at charing cross. there will be ample time if i make haste." the approach to the bridge consists of a fairly steep wooden gangway with an abrupt turning at its upper end. the worn planks were slippery with mud, while, being close to the river, the mist seemed denser than ever. from the bridge it was just possible to see the outlines of the adjoining brewery and the tiers of heavy barges lying on the reeking mud, for the tide had almost ceased to ebb. less than half-way across the bridge atherton saw the figures of two men. one was leaning over the low parapet, the other, hands in pockets and his hat stuck on the back of his head, was looking fixedly along the narrow footway. suddenly the latter poked his companion in the ribs and pointed at the oncoming scout; then both men turned and leant over the parapet as if interested in the swirl of yellow water twenty or thirty feet beneath them. "what can their interest be in me, i wonder?" thought atherton. "no use showing the white feather. i'll walk straight past them--but i'll 'be prepared.'" somewhat to his surprise the two men took particular care to keep their faces averted. but swiftly as he walked by the scout did not forget the value of unobtrusive observation. "no. .--height about five feet five, broad shouldered, short legs; back of neck dirty yellow, hair black and long, showing a tendency to curl. clothes: a billy-cock hat, soiled stand-up collar, with a frayed yellow-and-black necktie showing above the back collar-stud, coat rusty black, circular patch of deep black material on left elbow; trousers grey, frayed at bottoms; boots pale yellow, badly in need of a clean, and much worn on the outside of each heel. "no. .--height five feet ten, back of neck red, iron-grey hair closely cut, shoulders bent, legs long, feet planted well apart. cloth cap; blue woollen scarf, blue serge coat and trousers, black boots that had apparently been treated with dubbin. should take him to be a seafaring man; more than likely a bargeman. i feel pretty certain that i could pick out these men in a crowd of----" a stifled shout for aid was faintly borne to the scout's ears. he stopped, turned, then without hesitation ran as hard as he could in the direction from which he had come. the mist hid the two men from his sight, while at the same time a light engine running slowly over the adjacent bridge threw out a dense cloud of steam that, beaten down by the moist atmosphere, made it impossible for atherton to see more than a yard ahead. once more came the cry, this time nearer, but gurgling, as if the victim's mouth was being held by one of his assailants. imitating a man's voice, the scout shouted. just then the cloud of steam was wafted away, and atherton was able to see what was taking place. the two men he had previously passed were struggling fiercely with a tall, elderly gentleman, who in spite of his grey hairs was strenuously resisting. even as the scout dashed up, the two rascals deliberately lifted their victim over the iron balustrade. there was a stifled shriek followed by a heavy plash, while the assailants bolted as fast as their legs could carry them. three or four pedestrians, looming out of the mist, promptly stood aside to let the hurrying men pass. the former made no attempt to stop the fugitives. all they did was to stand still and gaze after them till they were lost to sight. "a man has been thrown into the river!" shouted atherton. "run down to the charing cross pier and get them to send out a boat." throwing off his coat and shoes the scout climbed over a parapet and lowered himself till his whole weight was supported by his hands. there he hung for a brief instant. he realised that the drop was a long one, and in addition there was the possibility of falling not into the water but upon the deck of a barge that might at that moment be shooting under the bridge. in that case it might mean certain death, or at least broken limbs. shutting his eyes and keeping his legs tightly closed and straight out, atherton released his hold and dropped. he hit the water with tremendous force, descending nearly ten feet. instinctively he swam to the surface and, shaking the water from his hair and eyes, struck out down stream. twenty yards from him, and just visible in the murky atmosphere, he caught sight of a dark object just showing above the surface. the next moment it vanished. putting all his energy into his strokes atherton swam to the spot and, guided by the bubbles, dived. it seemed a forlorn hope, for at a few feet below the surface the thick yellow water was so opaque that he could not distinguish his hands as he struck out. for nearly half a minute the brave lad groped blindly. his breath, already sorely taxed by the force of his drop from the bridge, was failing him. he must come to the surface ere he could renew his vague search. just as he was on the point of swimming upwards his left hand came into contact with a submerged object. his grip tightened. with a thrill of satisfaction he realised that he had hold of the victim of the outrage. thank heaven, the surface at last! turning on his back atherton drew in a full breath of the dank yet welcome air, then shifting his grasp to the collar of the rescued man drew him face uppermost to the surface. to all appearance the old gentleman was dead. his eyes were wide open, his lips parted, his features were as white as his hair. the scout looked about him. his vision was limited to a circle of less than fifty yards in radius; beyond this the mist enveloped everything. the embankment, the bridges, the surrey side--all were invisible. but above the noise of the traffic on the embankment and the rumble of the trains across the river came the dull roar of voices, for already a dense crowd had gathered almost as soon as the alarm had been given by the hitherto apathetic pedestrians on the foot-bridge. "the wind was blowing down stream," thought atherton. "if i keep it on my left i ought to strike shore somewhere, so here goes." still swimming on his back, and holding up the head of the rescued man, the scout headed towards the middlesex side. his progress was slow, for his burden was a serious drag, and his strength had already undergone a severe strain. his clothes, too, were a great impediment. had it been clear weather atherton would have been content to keep himself afloat till picked up by a boat, but he did not relish the idea of drifting aimlessly on the bosom of old father thames; his plan was to make for land, hoping to reach the embankment somewhere in the neighbourhood of the steps by cleopatra's needle. all this while, owing to a slight veering of the wind, atherton was swimming, not towards the shore, but almost down stream. he wondered faintly why his feet had not yet touched the mud. more than once he thrust his legs down to their fullest extent, hoping to find something offering more resistance than water, but each time his hopes were not realised. he was momentarily growing weaker. his movements were little more than mechanical, yet not for one instant did he think of abandoning his burden to save himself. his clothing seemed to hang about his limbs like lead. ofttimes he had practised swimming in trousers, shirt and socks--for one of the scouts' swimming tests is to cover fifty yards thus attired; but he had already covered more than four times that distance, while, in addition, he was heavily handicapped by having to tow another person. presently a dull throbbing fell upon the scout's ears. "a steamboat," he muttered. "wonder if she'll come this way." and expending a considerable amount of his sorely tried breath he shouted for aid. a sharp blast upon a steam-whistle was the response, while a hoarse voice bawled, "where are you, my man?" "here," replied atherton vaguely, for owing to the mist the direction in which the sound came from was quite unable to be located. fortunately the steamboat was heading almost down upon the nearly exhausted lad. her bows, magnified out of all proportion, loomed through the misty atmosphere. "stop her!" shouted the coxswain to the engineer, then, "stand by with your boathook, wilson." losing way, the boat--one of the metropolitan police launches--was brought close alongside the rescuer and the rescued. the bowman, finding the lad within arm's length, dropped his boathook, and leaning over the gunwale, grasped atherton by the shoulder. the coxswain came to his aid, and the victim of the outrage was hauled into safety. chapter iii the patrol leader's dilemma shivering under the stern canopy of the launch, scout atherton assisted the bowman in his work of restoring the half-drowned man to life. before the craft reached charing cross pier, the policeman was able to announce that there was yet hope. feeling dizzy and numbed atherton stepped ashore. "can i help, sir?" he asked. "you'd better run off home and get out of those wet clothes," replied the coxswain, a sergeant of police. "do you feel equal to it, or shall we get you a cab?" "i'm all right, i think," replied atherton. "let's have your name and address," continued the sergeant, pulling out his notebook. "you're a plucky youngster, that you are." atherton was not at all keen on giving the particulars. publicity was the thing he wished to avoid. he had done a good turn, and, scout-like, he wanted, now that he could render no further assistance, to modestly retire from the scene. his desire was gratified, for at that moment a doctor, two reporters and an ambulance man came hurrying down the incline leading to the pier. the doctor turned his attention to the still unconscious man, while the pressmen tackled the sergeant in a most business-like manner. atherton seized the opportunity and slipped off. the water was still dripping steadily from his things. he started into a run, partly to restore his numbed circulation and partly to get back to the spot where he had taken his venturesome dive, for he remembered that he had left his boots and coat on the bridge. by the time he reached the top of the three flights of stairs leading from the embankment to the bridge his watery tracks were quite insignificant, and of the few people hurrying on their way home none noticed the hatless, coatless and bootless youth. the crowd of curious spectators had dispersed. a rumour that the water police had picked up the body of the victim had resulted in a wild stampede along the embankment. atherton made his way to the place where he had dropped into the river. his coat and boots had vanished. "i'm in a pretty fine mess!" he exclaimed, ruefully. "dirty trick, sneaking a fellow's clothes, though. i wonder what the head will say when i turn up late." atherton knew that if he journeyed to king's cross otherwise than on foot he would be exposing himself to a great risk by taking cold, so adopting the "scout's pace"--alternately walking and running twenty paces--he found himself at the great northern metropolitan station in very quick time. upon arriving at collingwood college a slice of good luck awaited him. jellyboy, the porter, was standing on the kerb beckoning frantically to a newsboy. the outer door was open, and the scout slipped in unobserved. under ordinary circumstances he would have gone straight to his house master, but the desire to keep his good turn a secret caused him to make straight for the dormitory. here he changed, placing his still damp clothes under his bed till he could find an opportunity of drying them. "prep." was over. harrison, the junior science master had been in charge, and had not noticed atherton's absence. the scouts were assembling for the evening's instruction, and, not without curious glances from his chums, the leader of the "otters" joined them. somehow atherton did not feel quite satisfied with himself. he began to realise that by avoiding publicity he had placed himself in a false position. by promptly giving the police a detailed description of the two assailants, the arrest of the culprits might have been speedily effected. besides, he did not relish the stealthy tactics he had to adopt in returning to the college without being detected. "i'll see mr trematon and tell him all about it," he declared. "it seems to me that i've made a pretty mess of things, so here goes." "well, atherton, what do you want?" basked the scoutmaster, as the leader went up to him and saluted. "a suggestion for the camp, eh?" "no, sir," replied atherton. "i'm in a difficulty and want advice. can i speak to you in the store-room, sir?" "certainly," assented mr trematon kindly. "now, atherton, what is it that's worrying you?" the scout told the story of his adventure, omitting nothing, although he put the account of his part of the rescue in as brief a form as possible. "you had better come with me to the head," said mr trematon, when atherton had finished. "i think i can account for your reticence, and no doubt mr kane will see things in a similar light." "whatever possessed you to go without giving your name and address, atherton?" asked the rev. septimus. "don't you see you are putting obstacles in the way of the police?" "i have thought of that since, sir," replied atherton; "but at the time all i wanted was to make myself scarce." "make yourself scarce!" repeated the head, reprovingly. "that is hardly the right way to express yourself:" "well, sir, you see i did not want any reward for my good turn." "what a strange idea," remarked the rev. septimus kane to his assistant. "one of the principles of scout law, sir; to do a brave action with the prime motive of self-advertisement is deprecated by all true scouts." "yet i notice names of scout heroes frequently figure in the press," added the head, musingly. "possibly not with their consent, sir." "there are volumes in the meaning of the word 'possibly,' mr trematon. however, the best thing you can do is to take atherton over to the police-station. ask that his identity may be concealed if practicable. they will telephone the description of the two assailants to the other stations, and in that way a tardy assistance may be rendered to the force. don't wait, it is late already." "very good sir. do you want me----" mr trematon's words were interrupted by a sharp knock at the study door, and in response to the head's invitation jellyboy, the porter, entered, followed by a stalwart constable. "good evening, sir," exclaimed the policeman, saluting. "i've been sent to make a few enquiries, sir; can i speak to you in private?" "i do not think privacy is desirable, constable," replied the rev. septimus, who at times possessed a keen intuition. "you have called with reference to that case of attempted murder on hungerford bridge." "you're right, sir," said the astonished policeman. "you'll excuse me, sir, but might i ask how you know?" "easily explained, constable. you have a parcel under your arm. it has been crushed. the brown paper covering has burst. i can see a portion of the contents: a boy's cap with the badge of collingwood college. since one of my pupils--this lad, as a matter of fact--has arrived without a cap, coat or boots, and has reported to me that he jumped into the thames after a gentleman who was thrown over the bridge by a couple of roughs, it naturally follows that i can guess the nature of your errand." "you are quite right, sir," said the constable, admiringly. "i frequently am," rejoined the head, complacently. "but to return to the point: has the identity of the victim been established?" "yes, sir, the gentleman is sir silas gwinnear. you might have heard of him, sir." leslie trematon gave an exclamation of surprise. atherton, equally astonished, could hardly realise the news. it seemed like a dream. only a few days previously sir silas had written expressing his opinion of the scout movement in emphatic terms of disapproval, and now, by the irony of fate, he owed his life to a scout's promptitude and bravery. "what is the matter, mr trematon?" asked the head, who could not fail to notice the scoutmaster's ejaculation of astonishment. "i happen to know sir silas, sir," he replied. "he was a friend of my father's. only the day before yesterday he wrote to me." "and how is sir silas?" asked the rev. septimus, addressing the policeman. "getting along finely, sir, considering he's not a young man by any means." "and his assailants?" "no trace of them, sir. one of our men found these articles of clothing and took them to the station. a letter addressed to master atherton was in one of the pockets, so the inspector sent me here to make enquiries. is this the lad, sir?" "that is atherton, constable." "look here, young gentleman, can you give us any information as to what occurred?" the scout accurately described the appearance of the two men whom he saw commit the assault. the policeman, hardly able to conceal his surprise at the detailed description, laboriously wrote the particulars in his notebook; the head was also surprised at his pupil's sense of perception. only mr trematon maintained a composed bearing. inwardly he was proud that his instruction in scoutcraft had borne such good fruit. "let me see," remarked the rev. septimus. "atherton is, i believe, a--er--scout?" "yes, sir," assented the scoutmaster. "he ought to be a detective, sir," observed the constable. "only it's a great pity he didn't inform us at once. we might have nabbed those rascals." "he quite realises that," said the head. "one thing, he has been the means of saving life under very trying circumstances. the capture of the assailants is, after all, a secondary matter. trematon, you ought to be proud of your scouts if they are all like this one." "i trust they will prove themselves equal to the occasion should necessity arise, sir," replied the scoutmaster. [illustration: "'look here, young gentleman, can you give me any information as to what occurred?'"--_page_ .] chapter, iv off to seal island "you'll be sure to get the bronze cross, dick," exclaimed his chum, phil green, as he paused in his work of varnishing a tail-board to critically admire his handiwork. "don't talk rot," replied atherton, for the congratulations of his fellow-scouts were beginning to be embarrassing. "don't talk rot, and get on with your work. we've only four clear days, and this trek-cart is nothing like finished." the lads were hard at work in the old gym. the place reeked of elm sawdust and varnish, for sixteen scouts were all busily engaged in constructing a cart. "what did it feel like when you jumped of the bridge?" asked fred simpson, the leader of the "wolves." "i cannot explain; i simply dropped," replied atherton. "perhaps if i had hesitated, i might have funked it. but dry up, you fellows, i've had enough. come on, baker, are those linchpins finished yet?" "the papers made a pretty fine story about you, dick," said green, returning to the charge. "'the scout and the baronet,' the report was headed. funny that it was sir silas gwinnear you rescued, wasn't it?" "you'll be funnier still if you don't hurry up with that coat of varnish," exclaimed the leader, with mock severity. "stick to it, man; we want to be able to show mr trematon something by the time he returns." just then jellyboy stalked in. "mr atherton, you're wanted at once in the head's study." atherton hurriedly washed his hands, smoothed his hair and donned his blazer over his scout's uniform. it was the custom for the lads to wear their uniform during their work in the gym., after "prep." was over; but for the first time on record was a scout in full war-paint summoned to see the head. the rev. septimus took particular pains to avoid sending for any of his pupils except when in their ordinary clothes; but on this occasion the warning was evidently urgent. "come in," said the head, briskly. "atherton, this is sir silas gwinnear." the scout could hardly recognise the stranger as the same person he had rescued. sir silas under ordinary everyday conditions was a tall, thin-featured man with grey hair and beard. he bore the stamp of a self-made merchant, for he was somewhat showily dressed, an obtrusive gold watch-chain of old-fashioned make with a heavy seal, a massive signet ring and a thick scarf-pin being the outward signs of his opulence. his manner was pompous; but in his deep-set grey eyes there lurked the suspicion of a kindly nature. "ah, good evening, atherton," exclaimed the baronet, rising and shaking the scout's hand. "i am out and about, you see, thanks to your bravery, my dear young sir. i took the first opportunity of calling and thanking you personally for what you have done for me." "i only did my duty, sir." "and did it well, too, i declare. to get to the point, atherton: i am a man of few words, but you will not find me ungrateful. if at any future time i can be of assistance to you don't hesitate to ask. i flatter myself that i have a fair share of influence. meanwhile i don't suppose you will object to having a little pocket-money. school-boys, i believe, are always fond of tuck." so saying, sir silas thrust his hand deep into his trousers' pocket and fished out a fistful of gold and silver coins. from these he selected five sovereigns and offered them to his youthful rescuer. atherton drew himself erect. "no, thank you, sir," he said firmly but politely. "i cannot take the money." "cannot take the money!" repeated sir silas, hardly able to credit his sense of hearing. "why not?" "i am a scout, sir, and a scout is not allowed to receive any reward for doing a good turn." "a scout! bless my soul, so you are!" exclaimed the baronet, as his eyes noticed for the first time the lad's knotted handkerchief showing above his buttoned-up blazer, and his bare knees. "i am afraid i am not in sympathy with the scout movement," he added bluntly. "we have recently formed a troop as a kind of experiment," explained the rev. septimus, apologetically. "but i must admit, sir silas, that i have had no reason up to the present to regret my decision in granting scouts to be enrolled from my pupils." "atherton's refusal to take a small present surprises me," said the baronet. "is that rule strictly adhered to?" "i know very little about the rules and regulations of scoutcraft," replied the head. "perhaps atherton can answer your question." "well, is it?" asked sir silas abruptly. "yes, sir," replied the scout, rather relieved to find that the conversation had turned into a channel that was more to his liking than being the object of embarrassing congratulations. "h'm. the upkeep of the movement costs money, i suppose. how do you manage? i always thought scouts cadged to meet their expenses." "no, sir, we are not allowed to cadge. that is also against regulations. we are self-supporting." "how?" "to take our own case, sir, all our pocket-money is paid into the troop funds at the beginning of the term. we have to be thrifty, that is also an obligation. we all do something to add to the funds." "i gave the permission, sir silas," remarked the head. "in a commercial training school like collingwood college i think that judiciously supervised earnings tend to develop commercial instincts and teach lads the value of money at an age when they are apt to disregard it." "that is so," agreed the baronet. "'take care of the pence,' you know. but suppose, atherton, a sum of money was presented to the troop funds, what would you do then?" "our scoutmaster, mr trematon, could answer the question better than i, sir," replied the scout. "trematon? is he here? that's strange. he wrote to me the other day. i thought the name collingwood college seemed familiar, but until this moment i failed to connect the two circumstances. he asked me to allow him to take a party of scouts to my place in cornwall--to seal island." "yes, sir." "and i refused. i gave my reasons. i suppose you fellows called me all sorts of uncomplimentary names, eh?" "oh, no, sir. we were disappointed, of course. mr trematon was too, for he loves cornwall, so he tells us. now we are going to southend instead." "i suppose you wouldn't mind if i altered my decision?" "indeed, sir, it would be ripping," replied atherton, enthusiastically. "well, i will write to mr trematon on the matter to-morrow," declared sir silas. "if you won't accept a pecuniary reward perhaps i can pay off a portion of my debt of gratitude to you in another way. all the same," he added, with a touch of pomposity, "i wish it to be clearly understood that the objections i have expressed to mr trematon i still believe in: but since you refuse any pecuniary reward i think i am justified in making this offer. i suppose there is no reason why you should decline this slight concession?" "thank you very much, sir," replied atherton warmly. "in the name of the troop i thank you." "no need for that," said sir silas grimly. "the troop, whatever that is--i suppose it has something to do with scouts--has to thank you, not me. i will write to mr trematon this evening on the matter." as soon as leader atherton was dismissed he ran as hard as he could out of the schoolhouse, and crossed the playground and burst excitedly into the old gym. "i say, you chaps," he exclaimed, "it's all right after all. sir silas gwinnear has reconsidered his decision and we have permission to camp out on seal island." the roof echoed and re-echoed to the hearty cheer the scouts raised, while little reggie scott, the tenderfoot of the "otters," showed his enthusiasm by attempting to dance a hornpipe on the back of the vaulting horse. his efforts came to an abrupt conclusion, and he rose from the floor dolefully rubbing the back of his head, while his comrades were unable to restrain their mirth. in the midst of the uproar the scoutmaster entered. "what's all this, boys?" he inquired. "more play than work it looks like; and only a few days more before we go to southend, and our preparations are not half made." "no need to trouble about southend, sir," said fred simpson, in an excited tone. "atherton has seen sir silas, and we can go to seal island." "atherton has seen sir silas?" repeated mr trematon. "come, atherton, let me hear all about it." "it is rather a pity that sir silas gives his consent under these conditions," he continued when the scout had related what had occurred in the head's study. "a gift grudgingly bestowed is but half a gift. no matter, lads; atherton has made a good impression as a scout, and i feel certain that the rest of us will leave no stone unturned to convince the baronet that scouts are not what he imagines them to be. so it is to be seal island after all. i am glad, and i think you will agree with me that the possibilities of a thoroughly enjoyable fortnight under canvas are far greater there than at southend. it was lucky i called in to see how you were getting on, for i meant to buy the tickets to-night. but now, lads, stick to your work, for i see there is still much to be done. work first and play afterwards--and talk if you can without hindering each other." for the next two days preparations were hurriedly yet methodically pushed forward. on the friday the school broke up, the day boys and most of the boarders bidding goodbye to their studies for seven long weeks. of the boarders who remained all belonged to the scouts, and formed two patrols. the "otters," with dick atherton as leader, were composed of jack phillips, second; phil green and tom mayne, st class scouts; will everest and george baker, nd class scouts; and jim sayers and reggie scott, the tenderfoots. the "wolves" were made up of fred simpson, leader; harry neale, second; jock fraser, arnold hayes and vernon coventry, st class scouts; pat coventry, nd class scout; and basil armstrong, tenderfoot. little dick frost, the other tenderfoot of the "wolves," and one of the keenest of the troop, was the only one who was unable to go camping. his mother had written to the head saying that as she considered her son a delicate lad, she did not wish him to run unnecessary risks by sleeping in the open. even the rev. septimus smiled when he read the epistle, for dick was really one of the toughest of a hardy set of lads. sir silas kept his promise by writing to mr trematon, confirming the permission he had given to atherton. in the letter he enclosed a railway pass to wadebridge for seventeen persons, available for fifteen days. "no doubt the laws of your organisation will permit you to accept the enclosed," he wrote. "don't thank me, thank young atherton. as regards seal island, i have written to my bailiff informing him that you are to have uninterrupted possession of the place for a fortnight. there are springs of fresh water, but fuel you will have to obtain from the mainland. dairy produce is to be had of trebarwith, the farmer who lives just outside polkerwyck. you can shoot as many rabbits as you like, on the estate, but remember that the sea-birds are not to be killed or molested. not only is it an offence against the law to kill birds, being close season, but i am strongly adverse from seeing these creatures harmed, so i sincerely trust that you will take strong measures to carry out my wishes in this respect. should my keepers report any violation of this condition i will immediately give orders for your lads to quit the island." sir silas' gift had relieved the scouts of any possible pecuniary difficulty. for months they had put aside their pocket-money, paying into the troop funds for the purpose of defraying the cost of the camp training. for example, tom mayne and coventry major earned sixpence a week for weeding the head's garden. this sum was promptly paid in. simpson and everest had each won prizes in competitions organised by a leading boys' journal. in each case the articles were sold and the sums received added to the general fund. every lad had done his utmost, and enough had been raised to pay for the railway fares. but there would be very little left when the expenses were met, and now the baronet's generous gift had made it possible for the scouts to have a splendid holiday and still keep a balance in hand. on the eve of the momentous journey to the west country, leaders atherton and simpson, on behalf of the two patrols, sprang a little surprise upon their scoutmaster. unknown to mr trematon the scouts had purchased a quantity of second-hand, yet serviceable, canvas, and from this they constructed a really smart and well-made ridge-tent suitable for one person. this they presented to the scoutmaster as a token of appreciation from the "otters" and the "wolves." for their camp equipment the scouts had to exercise their wits. their trek-cart was completed; their kit bags packed and stowed; their cooking utensils, truly spartan in simplicity, were ready; but so far as sleeping accommodation was concerned the lads fully expected to have to construct rough shelters of brushwood and heather. almost at the last moment the scoutmaster of another north london troop came to the rescue. the collingwood college lads had more than once done his scouts a good turn, and the opportunity arrived for their services to be reciprocated. the troop in question had just returned from a fortnight under canvas at shoreham, and acting on their scoutmaster's suggestion the scouts lent three large bell-tents to the "otters" and the "wolves." at length the eventful day arrived. the scouts, all in full marching kit, fell in to be finally inspected by the head. the trek-cart, filled to its utmost capacity, was placed in charge of sayers and armstrong--to be duly noticed and admired by the rev. septimus, who, a skilful amateur carpenter himself, always encouraged his pupils to take up carpentering for a hobby. "now, boys, i wish you all a very pleasant holiday," exclaimed the head. "i have every reason to believe that you will do your best to enjoy yourselves and at the same time to keep up the credit of collingwood college--and of the scouts. i trust that you will have good weather, and that you will return safe and sound and ready to resume your studies with renewed keenness when the time comes. i will say no more, except perhaps that i wish i were coming with you." the scouts cheered at the last remark. they appreciated the head's envy, but at the same time they were secretly glad that he was _not_ accompanying them. there was a certain austerity about the rev. septimus that acted as a barrier betwixt master and scholar, a barrier that, out of school hours, did not exist between mr trematon and the lads. the head stepped up to mr trematon and shook hands. "scouts!" exclaimed the scoutmaster. "patrols right--quick march!" the first stage of the long journey to seal island had begun. chapter v the arrival it was four o'clock in the afternoon when the scouts detrained at wadebridge, the termination of their railway journey. seven miles of hilly country separated them from the village of polkerwyck. the afternoon was hot and sultry, there was no wind to cool the heated atmosphere; but braced up by the attractiveness of their novel surroundings the lads thought lightly of their march. by some unexplained means the news of their impending arrival forestalled them, and at the station two cornish troops, with drum and fife bands, awaited them. with typical kind-heartedness their west country brother-scouts regaled their london visitors with tea, cornish cream, pasties and other delicacies for which the duchy is noted, while to still further perform their good turns they insisted upon dragging the camping party's trek-cart for nearly five miles. it was a delicious march. everything seemed strange to the visiting scouts, and novelty was one of the chief delights of the holiday. the wild, moorland country, the quaint stone cottages, stone walls in place of hedges, the broad yet attractive dialect of the villagers, and last but not least their wholehearted hospitality, filled the lads with unbounded delight, while mr trematon, being in his native county, was as enthusiastic and light-hearted as his youthful companions. the shadows were lengthening as the "otters" and the "wolves" breasted the last hill. the lads had relapsed into comparative silence. the strangeness of their surroundings so filled them with keen joy that they could only march in subdued quietness and feast their eyes on the natural beauties of the country. suddenly fred simpson, who headed the march, stopped, and, raising his stetson on the end of his staff, gave a mighty shout. his example was followed by the others as they gained the summit of the hilly road. almost beneath his feet, and extending as far as the eye could see, was the sea, bathed in all the reflected glory of the setting sun. not one of the scouts had previously seen the sun set in the sea: their knowledge of the seaside was confined to the kentish and essex coast towns where the orb of day appears to sink to rest behind the inland hills. on either hand dark red cliffs cut the skyline, forming the extremities of polkerwyck bay. the headlands, fantastic in shape, reared themselves boldly to a height of nearly three hundred feet. on the easternmost point, appropriately named beware head, stood a tall granite lighthouse, the stonework painted in red and black bands. on the western headland--refuge point--stood the white-washed houses of the coastguard station. between the headlands was polkerwyck bay, the village giving it its name nestling on either side of a small tidal estuary, and enclosed by a gorge so narrow and so deep that the scouts imagined that they could throw a pebble from the road upon the stone roofs of the picturesque cottages. of the estuary, and separated from the land by a stretch of deep blue water, lay what appeared to be a small rock. "where's seal island, sir?" asked atherton, who was the first to find his tongue. "there," replied the scoutmaster, pointing to the rock. "why, it's ever so small," cried several of the scouts in a chorus. "large enough for us, lads," replied mr trematon with a hearty laugh. "objects look deceptive when viewed from a height. now, then, fall in! sayers, scott, pat coventry and armstrong, follow the trek-cart with the drag ropes. you will want to keep it well in check going down the hill. patrols--quick march!" down the zig-zag hill the scouts made their way; at every step seal island seemed to get larger and larger, till at length the lads halted in the main and only street of polkerwyck, where they were surrounded by all the available population: men, women and children to the number of about eighty. "welcome back to polkerwyck, mr trematon, zur," exclaimed a hale, grey-headed fisherman, picturesquely attired in sou'wester (although the day was hot), blue jersey, tanned canvas trousers, and heavy sea-boots. "thanks, peter varco," replied the scoutmaster, heartily shaking the old man's hand. "i am glad to see you again. you look just the same." "sure us old 'uns keep powerful hearty in these parts, mr trematon. thanks be, i be middlin'. these be the scouts, eh? likely lads they be, although i reckon as they bain't up to our cornish lads, eh, mr trematon? squire's man, roger penwith, he comed down to see i yesterday. says 'e, 'squire has written to say mr trematon's scouts are a' comin' to seal island, and squire wants 'em looked after prop'ly-like.' 'trust i to do my part,' says i, and sure enow i have a-done. the _pride of polkerwyck_--you'll remember 'er, mr trematon--is at your sarvice, an' the three small craft as well; so when you'm ready to go over along, them boats is ready." "thank you, varco," said the scoutmaster. "the sooner we get to the island the better, for it is past sunset." "and roger penwith 'e 'as placed a load or two o' firewood close alongside the landin' place, mr trematon. thought as 'ow you'd be wantin' it." "good man, mr penwith!" ejaculated mr trematon. "we can find a place to store this cart, i suppose?" "sure there'll be a sight of room in yon hut," replied the fisherman. "unload the trek-cart, lads," ordered the scoutmaster. "keep each patrol's belongings apart. atherton, will you take charge of one boat; simpson, another; load the heavy gear into the third boat, and phillips and green will assist me in taking her across." hither and thither the scouts ran, each with a set purpose, while the on-lookers watched with admiration as the baggage was unloaded and the trek-cart bundled at the double into the hut. "have you a key to the door, mr varco?" asked everest, with characteristic caution, after the cart had been housed. "key, young man? what do 'e want wi' a key for, might i make so bold as to ax? sure, us be all honest men in these parts," said varco, in a tone of mingled reproof and pride. at length the three boats were manned, and the scoutmaster gave the word to push off and give way. thanks to his early training mr trematon was thoroughly at home both on and in the water, and he had developed particular pains to instruct his lads in the art of managing a boat, till the style of the collingwood college scouts on the highgate pond became a subject of envy to most of the other troops in the district. it was a ripping row. the only fault that the scouts had to find was that it was far too short. the water was as calm as a mill-pond, although a faint roar betokened the presence of the customary ground-swell on the shore beyond the bay. the scouts landed in a sandy cove in the south-eastern side of the island, where a winding footpath, that showed little signs of frequent image, wound its way up in a zig-zag fashion to the higher ground. the baggage was carried ashore, and the lads, having secured the boats' painters, prepared to convey their goods to the camping-place. "you are not going to leave the boats like that, are you?" asked mr trematon. "aren't they all right, sir?" said leader simpson, inquiringly. "i made sure each painter was properly made fast with a clove-hitch, sir." "yes, that's all very well, but it is not good enough. you forget the rise of tide, which here exceeds fifteen feet at springs. besides, it might come on to blow in the night, and even though the island is sheltered from on-shore winds there would be sufficient swell to smash the boats to splinters. we must haul them well above high-water mark." back trooped the scouts, and, taking up positions all round the first boat, tried to drag her up the steep incline; but as soon as the craft was clear of the water it was evident that the task was beyond them. the boat was heavily built, and all hands could not lift her forward another inch. "now what is to be done?" demanded mr trematon, with a view of testing the scouts' practical knowledge. "put her on rollers, sir," suggested jock fraser. "a good idea, but where are the rollers?" "we can use our staves, sir." "and spoil them by the rubbing of the boat's iron-bound keel. that would only be advisable in a case of necessity. to make use of the oars is open to a similar objection. open that stern locker, fraser. you'll find a powerful tackle there, if i'm not mistaken. ah! there it is, and i can see a post driven in on purpose for hauling boats up." the upper block was soon placed in position, and fraser was about to bend the painter to the lower block when the scoutmaster again called him to order. "won't do," he exclaimed. "you'll more than likely pull the stem out of her. look at her forefoot, fraser: do you see a hole bored through it?" "yes, sir," replied the scout. "very well, then. there's a short iron bar in the locker. thrust that through the hole and bend the block to it by this rope. that's it: now we can haul away, and the keel will take the strain. four of you keep the boat upright and the rest tail on to the tackle." by this means the heavy craft moved slowly arid surely, and was at length hauled above the line of dead seaweed that denoted the level of high-water spring tides. the remaining boats were treated in the same way, and the scouts were free to proceed to the camping-ground. before ten o'clock the tents were pitched, a roaring camp fire threw its comforting glow upon the scene, and the two patrols were discussing their hard-earned and frugal supper with commendable avidity that betokened a healthy mind in a healthy body. "now, lads," exclaimed the scoutmaster, as soon as the meal was concluded, "we must turn in. it has been a long day for us, and i don't suppose the majority of you will sleep very soundly the first night under canvas. but no talking, mind. there is a time for everything, and if talking is kept up those who might otherwise be able to sleep will be disturbed. good-night!" chapter vi a spoilt breakfast "anyone awake?" enquired mr trematon softly, thrusting his head through the partially unlaced opening of the tent, where the eight "otters" were lying like the spokes of a wheel, each lad's feet towards the tent-pole. "i am, sir," replied atherton and green. "slip on your things and come out. i've a little job for you." without hesitation the two lads obeyed, and were soon blinking in the early morning sun. it was just after five o'clock--réveillé was to be at half-past six. the air was keen and the dew still thick upon the short grass. the village of polkerwyck was yet in shadow, for the sun had not risen sufficiently high to throw its slanting beams upon the deep-set hamlet. but already there were signs of activity, for several of the fishing boats that had been out all night had just returned and were landing their cargoes for conveyance to the nearest railway station. so still was the air that the reflections of the frowning cliffs and the deep browns of the tanned sails were faithfully reproduced in the placid water. the morning mist still lingered on the hill-tops, and drifted in ill-defined patches across the headlands that defined the limits of the bay. "best part of the day, sir," said atherton cheerfully, as he surveyed the scene of tranquillity. "it is," assented mr trematon. "it makes one pity the sluggards who never see the sun rise. but i want you two to come with me across the polkerwyck. old varco promised he'd have an old boat's mast ready for use as a flagstaff, and i want to commence our first day on seal island by saluting the flag." it was now nearly high tide, and thanks to the steepness of the shore there was little difficulty in launching the smallest boat. the scoutmaster steered, while atherton and green rowed. "isn't the water clear," said green, looking over the side. "i wish we could have a bathe." "all in good time," replied mr trematon. "there's a splendid bathing cove just past that point of the island, where there is hardly any current." "how do we get there, sir?" asked atherton. "the cliffs rise straight from the sea." "there's a path leading to a cave, that in turn communicates with the sea. it used to be a favourite smugglers' haunt a century or more ago. easy now, green, we're nearly there." the boat's forefoot grounded on the sand; green jumped out and secured the painter, while the scoutmaster and the leader stowed the oars and sprang ashore. "here's the mast," said mr trematon, indicating a thirty-foot pole lying on the little stone quay. "i see varco has rove some signal halliards--thoughtful man." "it's a lump, sir," remarked green. "how are we to get it into the boat? it will project ten feet at each end, and we will have no end of a job to row." "i don't mean to place it in the boat. we'll tow it. atherton, make this rope fast to that ring-bolt: we'll parbuckle the spar." the leader knew what his scoutmaster meant. to push the mast over the edge of the quay would scratch the paint and roughen the wood. making the end of his rope fast to a ring about a foot from the edge of the wharf, atherton waited till mr trematon had performed a similar operation, the two ropes being twenty feet apart. carefully the spar was rolled till it rested on the ropes, the "free ends" of which the scoutmaster and atherton held. "push the mast over the quay, green," said mr trematon. the pole, prevented from falling by the bights of the ropes, was now easily and slowly lowered into the water, and attached by its tapered end to the stern of the boat. "that went smoothly enough, sir," said green. "yes, two men can parbuckle a suitably-shaped object of thrice their combined weight. all the same it won't be such an easy task to haul the mast up the slope of seal island." upon landing on the island, atherton took the tapering end on his shoulder, mr trematon and green supporting the heavier end. "don't keep step," urged the scoutmaster, "or the mast will sway and possibly capsize us. now, proceed." it was no light work carrying the thirty-foot spar up the steep path, but dogged energy prevailed, and before it was half-past six the flagstaff was in position, ready for the hoisting of the union jack. the first call on hayes' bugle brought the scouts from their tents. baker and pat coventry, who overnight had been detailed for cooks, raced off' to construct earth ovens and light fires. sayers, scott, and armstrong, the three tenderfoots, marched off with buckets to bring a supply of water from the spring that the scoutmaster had pointed out; everest and fraser took a boat and crossed to the mainland to procure milk, eggs and bacon from the farm; while the rest of the two patrols opened up tents and aired the bedding. at seven, coffee and bread and butter were served out: not a standing meal, but merely a "stay" before breakfast. this was followed by prayers, then all hands fell in for bathing parade. all except atherton and green were somewhat surprised when mr trematon led the way, not to the landing-place, but up hill in the direction of the ruined hermitage. "what's that?" exclaimed young armstrong, as a small brown animal with a tuft of white on its tail darted into a hole on the site of the path. "why, i believe it's a rabbit." "look, there are dozens of them," added everest, pointing to a hollow about two hundred yards off. "there they go as hard as they can." "yes, the island is overrun with them, and so is most of sir gwinnear's estate. the farmers look upon them as a pest, and destroy as many as they can." "why pests, sir?" asked phillips. "because they eat the grass that feed the sheep, nibble the young corn shoots, undermine hedges, and so on. of course, they are not so numerous as in australia, where agriculture is threatened with disaster by their depreciations. one day, phillips, you can have a chance of shooting a few for our dinner. it will be necessary for you to get a gun licence before you can carry a gun. i'll see to that, however. but steady now: here's the entrance to our bathing cove." "what, here, sir?" asked several of the lads in chorus, and in a tone of incredulity, for the place indicated by the scoutmaster was a circular hole surrounded by a ruinous stone wall. "yes: follow me. mind where you tread. it's quite safe if you take reasonable precautions." the shaft, a natural tunnel, was descended by means of a spiral path, in places less than three feet in width, a rusty iron handrail--a relic of the good old smuggling days--serving as a none too reliable protection. at eighty feet from the summit a steeply shelving floor was reached, whence a long, irregular tunnel led seawards. for part of this distance the place was in almost total darkness, while the air was moist and chilly. presently the tunnel began to get lighter, and the rocky floor gave place to a carpet of smooth white sand, terminating at the water's edge. "what a ripping bathing-place, sir," exclaimed neale. "come on, lads, let's see who will be the first in," shouted coventry major, hastily slipping off his scanty garments: an example that the others followed. "steady, boys," said the scoutmaster. "not so fast. i know that you can all swim more or less: but what precautions are you taking against accidents?" "we're all together, sir," replied coventry senior. "if needs be there is plenty of assistance ready." "quite so," assented mr trematon. "but that is hardly sufficient. i remember the case of a party of fifty soldiers bathing together. one of them suddenly sank without a shout, and he was not missed until the men paraded to march back to barracks. so i think we will have a boat out. the two leaders and i will man the craft, and we can have our swim afterwards." "a boat, sir? we will have to go back to the landing-place to fetch one." "no need to do that. come this way." a few feet above high-water mark a side passage branched from the main tunnel, and within it was a small rowing boat about twelve feet in length, with oars and thole pins ready for use. a life-buoy and a length of rope lay under the sternsheets. "this is one of peter varco's boats," said mr trematon. "he always keeps it here for the use of visitors who come to the place--dollar cove it is called--for bathing. he told me we could make use of it." "why is this called dollar cove, sir?" asked basil armstrong. "they say a spanish treasure ship was wrecked on the west side of seal island, and that her precious cargo was strewn over the bottom of the sea. curiously enough the only coins ever washed ashore have been found at the mouth of this cove." "should we find any if we looked, sir?" asked fraser. "that i cannot say; but suppose instead of standing here in the cold we launch this boat?" soon the placid waters of the bathing-cove were disturbed by the splashing of the lads of the two patrols, and all were somewhat reluctant to hear mr trematon's voice calling for them to come and dress. when the scoutmaster and the headers had had their swim the scouts made their way to the top of the natural staircase, and, doubling, returned to the camp glowing with health and excitement. directly the bedding was replaced and the tents tidied, breakfast was served. the camp oven fires had been banked up, and a plentiful supply of hot water was instantly available. eggs, boiled in salt water,--which, according to mr trematon's idea, were far more appetising than if done in fresh water--small flat loaves baked on hot ashes, and cocoa formed the repast. "whatever is the matter with you, hayes?" asked mr trematon as the scout gave a partly suppressed gurgle, rolled his eyes, and clutched his throat with both hands. without replying hayes suddenly bolted, while the scoutmaster and several of the scouts followed to see what was amiss. "the bread, sir," gasped hayes, after several attempts to make him explain. "the bread? what's wrong with it." "it tastes horrible," replied the victim. "i feel awfully queer." just then young coventry came running up, making similar grimaces to those of the first sufferer. he in turn was followed by little reggie scott, who, though undoubtedly equally as upset as his bigger comrades, kept himself more under control. "it's the bread, sir," he announced, holding up half of one of the flat cakes. "i believe there's oil in it." the scoutmaster took the proffered bread and smelt it. "you're right," he replied. "it is paraffin. what on earth have baker and pat coventry been doing? cheer up, you sufferers; you're not poisoned. smile and look pleasant, and we'll hold a court-martial on the cooks." further examination revealed the fact that all the bread was tainted with the unpleasant odour of paraffin. on being questioned pat coventry replied that he took no part in making the dough, while baker admitted that he had noticed an oily substance on the water when mixed with the flour. "i skimmed it off, sir," he explained. "i didn't know that it was paraffin." "haven't you a nose? why didn't you use your sense of smell?" "i didn't think of it, sir." "well it cannot be helped now; another time, if you have any doubts, ask me. that's what i am here for," said mr trematon. "serve out the biscuits, atherton. the bread is useless. after breakfast we must find out how the paraffin got into the flour. but it's close on eight. fall in." the two patrols, staves in hand, lined up under their respective leaders on either side of the flagstaff. the union jack was toggled to the halliards, and at the hour the ensign was slowly hoisted, while the scouts stood alert and loyally saluted the emblem of empire. "sit easy!" ordered the scoutmaster, and the scouts sat down to listen to mr trematon's instructions. "this is our first complete day in camp," he said, "and we can hardly hope to get into proper working order so soon. during the rest of the morning we must make more arrangements for our welfare. coming in late last night we contented ourselves by merely pitching the tents. had it rained, there would have been considerable discomfort on seal island, i fear. by this evening i hope to have the whole routine outlined, so that we may carry out our daily programme without a hitch. simpson, i want you to take armstrong and hayes with you, cross to the mainland and purchase a sack of flour. four of the 'otters' will take spades and dig trenches round the tents and other holes where required. four of the "wolves" will attend on the cooks. and build a watertight hut for the kitchen. the rest of you can construct mattresses of bracken. you remember instruction was given on that subject only a few weeks ago. now set to work and see how much you can do before one o'clock." calling the two cooks to accompany him, mr trematon walked over to the spot where the temporary ovens had been erected. a brief inspection showed the cause of the failure of the breakfast arrangements. in loading the boats for the journey across to seal island a can of paraffin had been dumped alongside the sack of flour, and the screw top of the former having worked loose a portion of the oil soaked into the flour. during the rest of the morning the lads worked hard putting the camp in order. trenches to drain the surface water in a possible heavy downpour of rain were dug round the tents; a mud and wattle hut, large enough to afford complete shelter for the cooks and their utensils, was erected; while a large tub was sunk in the little stream fed by the spring, so that a supply of fresh water was easily obtainable without having to make a lengthy journey to the fountain head. the mattresses, too, were in a forward state. the frames of these were constructed of straight branches, the side pieces being five feet six inches in length, the head two feet, and the foot fifteen inches. by tapering the shape of the cots it was possible to arrange them systematically round the tent, so that each scout slept with his feet towards the tent-pole. a coarse netting of thick twine filled the space between the cot frames, and through the meshes bracken was woven, forming a springy and comfortable couch, the frames being raised sufficiently to prevent the "sag," caused by the sleepers' bodies, from touching the ground. for dinner, boiled bacon, cabbage and potatoes and suet pudding were provided, and the cooks of the day did themselves credit, as if to atone for the spoiling of the breakfast. true, tom mayne found a boiled caterpillar in his share of the cabbage, and coventry minor all but swallowed a piece of string that had been mixed up with the suet, but as the scoutmaster remarked such incidents are really blessings in disguise, since the lads afterwards carefully examined every portion of the dinner and thus prevented any undue haste in eating. "it is certainly advisable that we should make ourselves thoroughly acquainted with our temporary domain," said mr trematon, after dinner was over. "it is now half past one. we will rest for half an hour and then set out for an exploration of seal island." chapter vii the mysterious footprints at the expiration of the stipulated time, preparations were made for the circuit of the island. the "otters" were ordered to take their staves, while to the "wolves" was allotted the task of carrying several lengths of two-inch rope, iron crowbars, a pair of double "blocks" and a pair of single ones. mr trematon did not give the reason why these articles need be taken, and speculation as to their use ran high. "two lads must remain as camp orderlies," he remarked. "who will volunteer? remember a volunteer is worth two pressed." there were several moments' hesitation. all were exceptionally keen on the trip, and the suggestion that two of them should remain did not appeal to them in a favourable light. "i will, sir," said atherton. "no," rejoined the scoutmaster. "the leaders are exempt, since they are responsible to me for their patrols." "i'll remain, sir," exclaimed tom mayne. "that's good. now, then, a volunteer from the 'wolves.' that will be fair, won't it?" coventry major signified his willingness to stay, for although in different patrols the two lads were close chums. "that's settled," continued mr trematon. "now, orderlies, you must not go beyond the limits of the camp, except down to the landing-place. you are to receive any visitors that may come to the island, and show them round, giving them any information as courteously as you can." in high spirits the two patrols set out, their first halt being at the ruined oratory. here mr trematon explained the use and nature of these buildings in mediaeval days, how that recluses devoted their lives to prayer and watching. no doubt many vessels in pre-reformation days owed their safety to the friendly light that burned every night from hundreds of oratories scattered round the coast. the ruins being situated on the highest part of the island, the scouts had an extensive view of the cornish shore and of the expansive bristol channel. the day was clear, and the water was dotted with ships of all sizes, all looking like miniature boats in the distance. there were colliers, distinguishable by having their funnels well aft; tramps, rusty-sided, and with stumpy masts serving mainly to support the derricks for handling cargo; topsail schooners, in which most of the coast-wise trade between the smaller ports is now carried on; bristol channel pilot boats engaged in keen competition to pick up a job; and a host of small fishing boats from the neighbouring ports of st ives and padstow. "how far can we see out to sea, sir?" asked tenderfoot scott. "that depends mainly upon the clearness of the atmosphere. from the height on which we are now standing-- feet--we might be able to see nearly twenty-one miles." "it's very clear to-day, sir," observed fraser. "yes, too clear for my liking," asserted the scoutmaster. "tregantle head--over twenty-five miles away--stands up quite plainly. that's a sure sign of wet weather and probably a storm in addition." "a storm! will there be any wrecks?" asked little reggie scott, eagerly. "will we be able to see them if there are?" "i trust not," replied the scoutmaster, solemnly. "i have seen several wrecks, and it is not an experience to be desired. now, lads, forward. bear away to the right. i want you to see that part of the island nearest to beware head." through a dense belt of gorse and bracken, out of which the startled rabbits scooted with amazing rapidity, the scouts trooped till mr trematon called to them to halt. they were then within ten feet of the edge of the cliffs that here descend abruptly for a distance of one hundred and eighty feet. "don't ever go closer to the brink of the cliffs than this, unless you have a line round you," cautioned mr trematon. "the ground might crumble under you, although there is far less probability of doing so here--where the rocks are composed of granite--than on the south-eastern coast of england, where the cliffs are of chalk and soft sandstone." from where they stood the scouts could see almost the whole extent of water between the island and beware head, a sheet of deep blue sea interspersed with patches of pale green denoting sandy bottom between the weed-covered rocks. long oily rollers came tumbling inshore with unfailing regularity, breaking with a smother of foam against the base of the headland. "what makes those rollers, sir?" asked baker. "there's very little wind, and farther out the sea is quite calm." "it's called a ground-swell, and is said to be caused by a storm many miles out to sea. their presence is also an indication of the approach of bad weather. i don't want to dishearten you, lads, but we must 'be prepared' for all emergencies, and if we are i don't think our holiday will be any less enjoyable." "there's a signal from the lighthouse, sir," announced atherton. "now, then, signallers: what do you make of that?" asked the scoutmaster, as a burst of flags fluttered from a staff rising from the gallery of the lighthouse. "we can't make out, sir," replied phillips and neale. "they are not spelling anything." "no, it is in code. the combination of those three flags means a message which we could only interpret if we had a signal-code book. one of those vessels 'made her number '--that is, has reported herself on first sighting a british signal-station--and the information will be telegraphed to lloyd's. see, there's a keeper on the gallery. watch him through your pocket telescope, phillips, and when he looks this way tell neale to call him up." "what shall i semaphore, sir?" asked the second of the "wolves." "ask him for permission to visit the lighthouse," replied mr trematon. "then, if he says yes, ask what day and what time will be convenient." "he's looking this way, sir," reported phillips. standing well apart from his comrades, neale "called up" the lighthouse. in a few moments phillips announced that the man was looking towards them through a glass. "he's acknowledged, sir," continued the second of the "otters." "another man has taken the glass from him." "carry on," ordered the scoutmaster, and neale began semaphoring with considerable rapidity and accuracy. back came the reply: "the keepers of beware head lighthouse will be pleased to show the scouts over the building any day between a.m. and one hour before sunset." "acknowledge and thank them, neale. say we hope to inspect the lighthouse tomorrow at p.m." "has this point any name, sir," asked phillips, indicating the northernmost limit of seal island. "no, i think not," replied the scoutmaster. "suppose for our own convenience we give it a name. what shall it be?" "why not north cape?" suggested green. "i am afraid it doesn't jut out sufficiently into the sea. it is bold and lofty; suppose we say north head?" "and the other extremities, east, south and west heads, sir?" asked sayers, the lad who shared with reggie scott the distinction of being the tenderfoot of the "otters." "very good," assented mr trematon. "the names are simple enough, which is a consideration, since there is little chance of getting confused over the various designations. now, forward once more." the route now lay in a south-westerly direction along an ill-defined track that followed the edge of the cliffs, which hereabouts attained a height of about eighty feet. "we are now over what is known as the tea caves," announced the scoutmaster. "these caves are well worth exploring, but at present i intend to show them to the 'otters' only. the 'wolves' must remain here and attend to the ropes, for we can only reach the caves by being lowered over the cliffs. the descent is, with proper precautions, perfectly safe, but a certain amount of nerve is required. should any lad not feel equal to the task he is at liberty to fall out." "so long as i don't fall in, i don't mind," remarked tenderfoot sayers, in an undertone to his chum scott. "if mr trematon says it is perfectly safe, 'nuff said," replied reggie scott. "i'm game." lashing a pair of staves together to form sheerlegs, the scouts planted the ends into the ground so that the crossed portion overhung the cliffs. to the projecting end one of the blocks or pulleys was secured, while "guys" prevented the sheerlegs from toppling over. a rope with a bowline at one end was rove through the pulley for the purpose of lowering the explorers. the scouts employed on this work were all provided with life-lines to guard against serious accidents should the cliffs crumble. "that seems perfectly secure," said mr trematon, after he had put the gear to a severe test. "now we are ready for the descent. at twenty-five feet from the summit of the cliff is a fairly broad path. each scout in turn will be lowered on to this ledge, and there he will stand easy till i rejoin you. atherton, since you are the leader, it is your place to go first." passing the bowline under his arms. atherton walked to the edge of the cliff, sat down, and waited till the "wolves" took the strain on the rope. then, unhesitatingly, he slipped over the cliff, and was slowly lowered through the intervening twenty-five feet. it seemed a long distance, especially as the lad had to ward himself off the face of the granite cliff with his hands. he knew, as did his companions, that it was foolish to look down, even if secured by a bowline, and although the temptation to glance downwards to see how much farther he had to go was great he had sufficient strength of mind to carry out instructions. presently his feet touched fairly level ground; the bowline slackened. he found himself upon a rocky "bench" or path nearly eight feet in breadth, which sloped with irregular gradations towards the base of the cliffs. casting off the rope, atherton called to his comrades to haul away, and he found himself cut off on the face of a wall of granite, that, save for a ledge on which he stood, looked as smooth as a board. one by one the "otters" were lowered. finally the scoutmaster descended, and the little party, eight all told, proceeded along the path leading to the caves. "funny name, sir," said phillips. "why do they call them tea caves--because the place is shaped like the letter t?" "no, merely another reminder of smuggling days." "did they used to smuggle tea?" asked everest. "yes; in the eighteenth century there used to be a very heavy tax on tea in this country; hence smuggling tea was almost as paying a game as smuggling spirits and lace if the run came off successfully. here is the main entrance; do you notice anything peculiar about the roof?" "yes, sir," replied several of the lads. "there looks as if there's a deep notch cut across it." "that is where the smugglers used to hang a painted canvas curtain from to deceive the revenue people. viewed from seaward it was almost impossible to detect the mouth of the cave." "but how was the tea carried there? there is no place for a boat to land at the foot of the cliffs." "that was another smugglers' ruse. the contraband goods were brought ashore at the same place as where we first landed on seal island. wines and spirits were usually taken to dollar cove, and hidden in the cave we explored this morning. the chests of tea were carried across the island, lowered over the cliff, taken along the path we have just traversed, and stored in these caves. [illustration: "he slipped over the cliff and was slowly lowered." _page_ .] by choosing a hiding-place not directly accessible from the sea, the law-breakers put the excise authorities off the scent." "isn't it dry here," remarked phillips. "the dust on the floor is as dry as powder." "yes, and you will find that in a few moments our footprints will be wiped out by the wind smoothing over the sand and dust. did anybody think to bring a candle?" "i have two, sir," replied baker. "good, lad!" exclaimed mr trematon, approvingly. "quite a display of foresight, eh?" "no, sir," admitted the scout, candidly. "they fell out of a parcel as we were carrying the baggage up to the camp last night. i picked them up and put them in my pocket, forgetting all about them till you spoke." "all the same they will be useful. give one to everest, and the two will be sufficient light for us to see our way." "are we going to use twine as a guide, sir?" asked atherton. "i have a ball of it." "not necessarily in this case, atherton," replied the scoutmaster. "i know the ins and outs of this place very well, and after all they are not so very extensive." at twenty yards from its mouth the cave apparently terminated, but mr trematon called attention to a small hole barely eighteen inches across, and almost on the floor level. "slip through, atherton, feet first and let yourself drop." unhesitatingly the leader obeyed. it was an uncanny sensation allowing oneself to drop into an invisible pit, but five feet from the edge of the hole atherton's feet encountered soft sand. "i'm all right," he said, his voice sounding hollow and unreal in the pitch dark cave. "follow on, you fellows," ordered the scoutmaster. "pass the light to atherton, baker." soon the "otters" found themselves in a much larger cavern, the walls of which were most fantastic shapes, while the dust on the floor, no longer disturbed by air currents, showed that the place had been visited at no distant date. there were the footprints of a man, both going and returning. "what do you make of these, atherton?" asked the scoutmaster, pointing to the tracks on the sand. candle in hand, the leader knelt down and examined the footmarks. "they are the footprints of a man wearing a ten boot," he announced. "they are not those of a working man, i think, because there are no hobnails. the person, whoever he is, seems to be a timid individual, as he evidently walks on his toes; the impression of the heels are much fainter." "a good deduction, atherton; it looks as if we are on the verge of a mysterious discovery." "what if the man is still in the cave, sir?" asked green, cautiously. "he might be listening to what we are saying." "no fear of that," replied mr trematon. "there has been only one man here recently, and his tracks show that he came and went again. follow the footprints, atherton, and see if you can make any more deductions." keeping by the side of the trail in order that the marks should not be obliterated the leader proceeded slowly and cautiously, the rest of his companions following. ten yards from the "needle's-eye," that served as a means of access to the inner cave, atherton discovered one used and two unused wax vestas. "what do they suggest, atherton?" asked mr trematon. "i think, sir, that they confirm my previous theory. a poor man is not in the habit of carrying wax vestas. he is usually content with swedish safeties. besides, this person is evidently careless and wasteful, since he drops two unlighted vestas." "so well, so good, atherton," replied the scoutmaster. "now let's proceed." once or twice the tracks became confusing, since the footmarks crossed each other; but with little difficulty atherton followed the in-going track till they stopped at a deep niche in the rocky walls on the right-hand side of the cave. in the candle-light atherton thoroughly examined the sand and dust. a piece of charred newspaper attracted his attention. he picked it up, unfolded it, and studied the printing. "quite recent," he commented. "here is an account of the king's visit to the new naval and military orphanage at bexhill. that took place on saturday, so that if this is not a portion of a sunday paper, it appeared yesterday. that proves, i think, that the person, whoever he is, visited the cave as recently as yesterday." "no doubt it was a tourist, keen on visiting the tea caves," suggested everest. "his supply of matches ran short, so he made a torch of a piece of newspaper. after all there's nothing in that, except that it has given us a chance to practise spooring." "i am not so sure of that, everest," said mr trematon, quietly. "in the first place the tea caves are difficult of access, and a stranger would enlist the services of one of the local fishermen as a guide. this man comes alone. secondly, he visits the cave with an avowed object: he walks straight to this place, stands almost in the same spot for some time, and then kneels. the impressions of his toes and one knee prove that. then he returned to the open air as directly as he came." "perhaps he's buried something, sir," suggested sayers. "for the time being we will let our investigations rest," said mr trematon. "we have no spades with us, and should the mysterious visitor return he would notice that the soil had been disturbed, and become alarmed and suspicious. so we must endeavour to detect the man should he come again. if he were here for no good purpose it is more than likely that he will not revisit the tea caves till after our camp is struck." "you mean us to dig, sir?" asked reggie scott. "yes. unless anything unforeseen occurs we will bring spades and thoroughly examine this portion of the ground on the day before we return home. but we must be off or the 'wolves' will wonder what has happened to us. cover your footprints, lads." the scouts' footprints were carefully obliterated as they retraced their steps, an empty haversack drawn over the trail completing the finishing touches. only a minute inspection would reveal the fact that a party of lads had traversed the inner cave. "what have you been up to, atherton?" asked his chum simpson, as the leader of the "otters" was hauled up to the top of the cliff. "wait and see," retorted atherton, laughing. "that's all right, simpson. mr trematon will tell you everything round the camp fire to-night." chapter viii the missing thole-pins "i had no idea it was so late," exclaimed the scoutmaster, consulting his watch. "there is not enough time for us to explore the south-western portion of the island. there is something very interesting to be seen there, but as i want to give you fellows a little surprise i won't say what it is. perhaps tomorrow we will find time to complete the circuit of the island." hungry as hunters the scouts returned to camp, where mayne and coventry senior had a sumptuous tea awaiting them. "anything to report?" asked the scoutmaster. "yes, sir," replied mayne. "mr trebarwith, of polkerwyck farm, has been here. he brought three dozen eggs and several pounds of cornish cream as a present. he wouldn't hear of payment when i suggested that you would square up with him. he also invites us to visit his farm to-morrow at half-past nine." "what did you say to that?" "i thanked him, sir, and said you would let him know this evening." "very good. after tea you might take a message for me. now, lads, set to, for if you are all as hungry as i am we will make short work of this provender." "no one else landed on the island, i suppose?" asked atherton. "no, peter varco rowed mr trebarwith over, and he remained in the boat. why do you ask?" questioned coventry major. "because we came across the spoor of a recent visitor in the tea caves," replied atherton, and at mr trematon's suggestion the lad gave his companions of the "wolves" and the two former guardians of the camp a detailed report of what had occurred. after tea, the scoutmaster wrote a letter to the genial farmer, accepting his invitation, and stating that he hoped to bring the scouts to polkerwyck farm to-morrow at nine-thirty. mayne and baker were despatched to take the missive to mr trebarwith, while the others were free to amuse themselves at camp games till half-past seven, when the camp fire was lighted for the customary evening palaver. just before sunset mr trematon called the leaders and seconds of both patrols aside. "atherton and simpson, i want you to take charge of the camp till i return," he said. "phillips and neale will no doubt feel up to an evening stroll. i have reason to revisit the cliff immediately above the ledge leading to the tea caves." as the scoutmaster and the two seconds passed by the ruined oratory, neale called attention to the wild yet beautiful sunset tints. there were streaks of deep purple, orange, pale yellow and indigo in the western sky, while rugged, dark grey clouds, tipped with copper-coloured points, gave every indication that the bad weather was at hand. "yes," assented mr trematon, "the colours are remarkable. what do you say to a little experiment?" "an experiment, sir?" asked neale. "how?" "stand here, both of you, side by side," said the scoutmaster. "backs to the sunset: that's right. now stretch your legs wide apart, place the palms of your hands together and bend forward till your fingertips touch the ground." the two scouts promptly obeyed, wondering what was the reason for this exaggerated "leap-frog" posture. "now look at the sunset," continued mr trematon. "the colours are ever so much brighter," exclaimed both lads, who, heads downwards, were observing the western sky between their outstretched legs. "they look too bright to be real." "all the same they are natural colours. stand up now, or the circulation of the blood towards your head will be obstructed. yes, it has a peculiar effect. an artist friend of mine gave me the tip. by so doing one can see the vividness of an italian sky in the corresponding misty atmosphere of our native land. but we must be moving." arriving at the edge of the cliff, mr trematon produced from his pocket a reel of black cotton. cutting three or four twigs from a neighbouring bush, he set these in the ground so that they projected four inches from the surface. their exposed ends he connected up by a length of cotton. "if anybody comes here, the broken thread will give us proof," exclaimed the scoutmaster. "i do not suggest that anyone will come, but if they do this is the best means of detecting their presence without giving them cause of suspicion." "but the cotton only stretches for a distance of about ten feet, sir," remarked phillips. "if anyone descended to the ledge from a point farther along the cliffs, this arrangement would not give any warning." "i am afraid, phillips, you didn't use your eyes sufficiently this afternoon. if you had you would have noticed that at all other places except this the cliffs overhang the ledge, and anyone being lowered would drop clear of the path leading to the caves. hence it is reasonable to conclude that anybody knowing of the existence of the caves would naturally know the easiest means of gaining the ledge. do you follow?" "yes, sir," answered the second. "now let us be off, back to the camp. those fellows are enjoying themselves to be sure. you can hear them quite plainly at this distance--it is another sign that stormy weather is near when sound travels clearly over a long distance." ten minutes after "lights out" the camp at seal island was wrapped in slumber. dead tired with their exertions and aided by the health-giving fresh air, the scouts were soon lost to the world, till a blaze of red in the eastern sky betokened the dawn of another day. before réveillé, atherton was up and about. his mind was full of the tracks that had been discovered in the tea caves. it was not presentiment that influenced his thoughts. his deductions were based upon actual facts that were certainly suspicious. on the other hand the mysterious visitor might have gone to the cave for a perfectly legitimate purpose. in that case the following up of the clues would result in nothing more or less than a little practice. something more than curiosity prompted him to run across the island to the edge of the cliffs by the caves. phillips had told him of the harmless and effective booby-trap that the scoutmaster had prepared. the cotton had been snapped. atherton knelt down and examined the ground, but the dew lay thick upon the long grass, and no sign of human footprints was visible. upon his return to the camp, the scout found mr trematon clad in a long overcoat, for the morning air was chilly. "the cotton has been broken, sir," announced atherton. "i am not surprised," replied the scoutmaster. "as a matter of fact i expected that it would be, for by a stupid blunder on my part i tied the thread without making allowance for its shrinking through the moisture of the night air. but apart from that, atherton, i have made a discovery. two of the thole-pins have been taken out of one of the boats." "perhaps mayne and baker brought them ashore when they returned from the mainland last night, sir?" "oh, no: i went down to the landing-place last night to see that the boats were properly secured. the thole-pins were in their proper places then." "one of the fishermen, perhaps----" "they are honest men, and it is against their primitive yet effective code of honour to trifle with the gear of anybody's boat. still, although there is a faint possibility that such might have taken place, and we have an explanation for the broken thread, the double occurrences seem to suggest very forcibly that some one has landed on seal island during the night and has paid a visit to the tea caves." "are we going to explore the caves again to-day, sir?" "if time permits. our morning and afternoon are pretty full up: we may make an opportunity after tea. but turn those fellows out, atherton; it's time, and there's a lot to be done before we pay a visit to farmer trebarwith." as soon as the meal was over and the camp tidied up, the two patrols prepared for their trip to polkerwyck farm. the weather still remained calm and bright, and there was little or no wind. all the same the ground-swell was troublesome, as the "wolves" learnt to their cost, for upon landing, a heavy roller threw their boat broadside on to the beach, and drenched the lads to the skin. "it's salt water; it won't hurt," shouted leader simpson to his patrol. "our clothes will be dry by the time we get to the farm." meanwhile atherton had landed and was quietly and unostentatiously examining the other boats hauled up on shore or else lying within the shelter of the land-locked harbour. presently he went up to mr trematon. "there are our thole-pins, sir: i found them in that double-ended boat," he announced, pointing to a whaler lying just inside the old stone pier. "one of peter varco's boats," observed the scoutmaster. "perhaps, after all, he had occasion to land on seal island last night. he might have gone to look at his boat in dollar cove. we'll ask him." the old cornish fisherman was discovered sitting in the sun and mending his nets by the side of his cottage. "no, sir. sure i hadn't no call tu go over tu t'island last night. now you comes tu mention it, sir, i did notice as 'ow some one 'ad a-meddled wi' my boat, the _pride o' polkerwyck_. says i tu myself, 'tis they young gen'lmen over up-along, wot come ashore last night." "how did you know that one of your mates hadn't used her, peter?" asked mr trematon. "sure, none o' they wud a-made fast the painter wi' a granny, sir." "and none of my scouts would have done so: that i feel sure," added the scoutmaster with conviction. "no, peter, it's not any of our lads. some one, i believe, is in the habit of paying night visits to seal island." "better not let roger penwith, sir silas' bailiff, catch 'em," said the old fisherman with conviction. "all as goes tu seal island after sunset without permission be liable tu be taken up for poachin', sir." returning to the harbour atherton and the scoutmaster made a careful examination of the boat in question. the thwarts and bottom-boards were scratched and almost destitute of paint or varnish, but in addition to the innumerable traces of old peter's iron-heeled boots, atherton made the discovery that some one wearing indiarubber shoes had recently been in the boat. "size ten," he added, after measuring one of the footprints with his finger joint. "and seven bars across the soles." "pity we did not know of this before we left the island, atherton," said mr trematon. "however, we must keep a sharp look-out for a spoor up the road." the two patrols formed up and began their two-mile march to the farm. the traces of the person wearing indiarubber shoes were at first fairly well defined. in spite of the large size the wearer had taken comparatively short steps, a circumstance that coincided with the discovery made in the tea caves. but half way up the hill the spoor broke away to the left. here the short, sun-dried grass effectually baffled all farther traces. the scouts were, for the time being, baulked. there was nothing left but to continue their way to the farm. chapter ix at the lighthouse "good-marnin', mr trematon, and good-marnin' tu you young gen'lmen," exclaimed the genial farmer as the patrols halted outside the farmhouse. "du'ee come right in and have a drink o' milk. mary, du'ee ask missus tu bring a score o' glasses out; cups'll du, if there bain't enow." refreshed, the scouts began their tour of inspection, their host accompanying them and answering to the best of his ability the innumerable questions with which his visitors plied him. not once but a dozen times farmer trebarwith was forced to own himself beaten, so intricate were some of the problems put to him. "there be polkerwyck house," announced the farmer, pointing to a long, two-storeyed stone mansion lying in a broad valley snugly sheltered from the north and east by a steep, tree-clad hill. "sir silas gwinnear lives there when he's at home, which ain't often. heard the latest news about his affair in lunnon, sir?" mr trematon shook his head. newspapers were to be almost strangers to him during the fortnight at seal island. atherton felt a strange sensation in his throat; he realised that if the miscreants had been caught it meant an end to his holiday at seal island, since he would have to be one of the principal witnesses for the prosecution. "the police says as that they knows who the villains are as half murdered sir silas," continued farmer trebarwith. "only the rascals have padded the hoof--gone somewhares to foreign parts. they says as 'ow sir silas, bein' 'ead of the associated shippers' federation--whatever that might mean--has upset some o' the dockers over the new scale o' payments, and the dockers have got their back up." "look, they're haymaking over there," exclaimed little reggie scott. "what fun it would be if we could toss the hay about." "du it, an right welcome, young gen'lmen," said the farmer. "us be tur'ble short-handed, what with three o' my chaps 'aving gone to 'merica, and two more down wi' mumps. sure, i'd be main glad to see the hay safe under cover afore the rain comes on." and trebarwith glanced anxiously towards the western sky. "a chance to do a good turn, lads," exclaimed atherton. "tell us what to do, sir, and we'll tackle the job." for the rest of the morning the scouts toiled in the sultry air like young trojans, tossing and carting the hay to one corner of the meadow where the farmer's men were at liberty to commence the construction of the rick. by noon, when the labourers ceased work to enjoy their mid-day meal of bread and cheese washed down with cyder, farmer trebarwith expressed his opinion that scouts were main handy lads, and that, by their aid, he did not expect any difficulty in getting the crop safely under cover before the evening. after a bounteous dinner provided by the grateful farmer, the scouts formed up and started on their march to the lighthouse on beware head. their route lay on the same road as far as polkerwyck, and thence by a narrow cliff-path, skirting seal island bay to the promontory where the lighthouse is situated. as the patrols were passing the polkerwyck post-office--a small cottage converted into a general shop, draper's, grocer's, chandler's combined,--a smart dogcart was drawn up outside. from the shop came a tall, ungainly and not prepossessing man dressed in black. his face was pale; his eyes deep-set, shifty and heavily lined underneath; his closely trimmed side-whiskers gave the appearance of a superior manservant. furtively looking up and down the narrow street and giving a supercilious glance at the passing scouts, the man jumped into the dogcart and urged the horse at a rapid and unnecessary pace up the steep road leading towards wadebridge. atherton asked and obtained permission to fall out, and giving the tip to his chum simpson, induced that worthy to accompany him into the post-office. "two picture postcards and two halfpenny stamps, please," he asked of the old lady who was the local representative of his majesty's postmaster-general. "it be middlin' warm, sir," remarked the postmistress, as she laboriously counted out the change. "it is," agreed the leader of the "otters." "by the by, i didn't know that mr jones lived anywhere about here." "mr jones, sir?" asked the old lady in a puzzled tone. "yes, the gentleman who was in here a minute ago: the one who drove up in a dogcart." "you must be making a mistake, sir," replied the old dame. "that bain't mr jones. no one of that name bides hereabouts--leastways i can't call the name to mind, an i've lived here maid and wife these sixty-seven years come michaelmas. sure, now, that wur mr tassh--paul tassh commonly socalled--as is butler up at the big house." "polkerwyck house?" "yes, sir silas' place." "thank you: i've made a mistake in supposing his name was jones," said the scout, and saluting he left the shop. "i say, old fellow," exclaimed simpson. "what's the move? you don't know anyone called jones living about here, i feel certain." "neither do i," agreed atherton calmly. "i only wanted to find out who that fellow was. he may be the man who paid a night visit to seal island." "of course he may be, but there are ever so many chances that he may not be," said the leader of the "wolves." "one thing i noticed: he was not wearing indiarubber shoes." "it is not at all unusual for a man to change his shoes more than once in a day," remarked atherton. "it was his walk that i noticed. he has big feet, yet he took very short steps. the suspicious way in which he looked over his shoulder did not impress me very favourably." before any more could be said the two leaders separated to rejoin their respective patrols, and the ascent of the cliff path commenced. it was a tedious tramp up and down, as the route descended almost to the sea-level in order to traverse the numerous small streams that found their way into the bay. five times the lighthouse was hidden by intervening ground ere the scouts drew up at the whitewashed stone wall enclosing the lighthouse and the keepers' houses adjoining. the lighthouse men were most painstaking in their task of explaining everything to their young guests. the clockwork and manual-worked machinery for actuating the occulting light, the ingenious construction of the lenses of the lantern, the usual and the emergency means of supplying its illumination--all were in turn shown to the scouts, none of whom had ever been in a lighthouse before. "bill!" exclaimed one of the keepers in the midst of a technical discourse. "it's coming on thick. you can't see the island already. throw me the key of the rocket store." the keeper addressed as bill handed over the required article, and then drew back the curtains of the lantern room, which, during the day, were always kept closed in order to prevent the rays of the sun from damaging the dioptric lenses of the lantern. a sea-fog--another sign of an approaching storm--had banked up with considerable rapidity. wreaths of vapour were curling over the waters of seal bay, while, as the keeper had announced, the island itself was quite lost to view. "this'll give you a chance to see how we work the explosive fog-signals," remarked the man, as he hauled down a fishing-rod-like apparatus from outside the lighthouse. "here are the charges--gun-cotton, fired electrically; two every five minutes." securing the two cartridges to the forked ends of the rod, the keeper hoisted the latter to its former position and touched a key. a sharp crack, that in the outer air resembled the discharge of a seven-pounder, announced that the first of the warning signals had been fired. ten seconds later the second was discharged, and the keeper lowered the holder to recharge it. "what makes the light blink?" asked scott. "this revolving screen, sir," answered the keeper. "it is worked by the action of a slowly falling weight, after the principle of a grandfather's clock. we have to wind it every two hours. if that goes wrong we have to grind the lantern round by hand, and a precious stiff job it is." "that's where we would come in handy," observed baker. "scouts to the rescue, eh?" "all right, young gentlemen. i'll bear that in mind, and if the apparatus goes wrong while you are on seal island we'll signal for a party of you to bear a hand. there'll be stiff arms and aching backs in the morning, i'll warrant." the inspection came to an end at last, and mr trematon led his scouts out into the now dense fog. upon reaching polkerwyck, the scoutmaster went into the post-office, for since he had promised phillips that he should be the hunter of the party, he had to get the lad a gun licence. "now you'll be all right, phillips," exclaimed mr trematon. "to-morrow morning you can take my gun and see if you can knock over enough rabbits to provide us with dinner." "there'll be a telegram for you, sir," said the post-mistress, handing the scoutmaster a buff-coloured envelope. "came in this afternoon, and peter varco telled me as there was no one on t' island to take it, so i kept it back." mr trematon hastily opened the envelope and scanned its contents, then filling in a telegraph form he handed it in and left the shop. "lads," he explained, "i've had bad news. circumstances demand that i return to my home at guildford as soon as possible. atherton, until i send some one to take charge, you must be acting assistant scoutmaster. i know i can trust you. here is enough money to carry you on for a few days, and here is the key of the portable locker. if i hurry i may be able to catch the evening train from wadebridge. let me know every day how you get on." "we are sorry, sir," said several of the scouts in chorus. "thank you, lads," replied the scoutmaster. "i trust it is not so bad as the telegram leads me to believe. can you get across to the island all right in the fog, or shall i ask varco to pilot you over?" "we'll manage all right, sir," said atherton confidently. "i have my pocket-compass, and i know the bearings." "very good; now good-bye, lads; i hope you'll have a decent time in spite of the impending weather." "good-bye, sir," shouted nearly a score of voices with genuine regret. the next moment mr trematon, hurrying up the hill as fast as he could, was lost to sight in the fog, while the "otters" and the "wolves" remained on the stone quay of polkerwyck till the sound of his footsteps faded into a silence broken only by the ground-swell upon the wild and rugged coast. chapter x the wreck "keep close in our wake, simpson," cautioned atherton, as the two boats cleared the end of the stone quay. "give way, lads; long easy strokes." it was an eerie experience to the two boats' crews, rowing in a dense mist that seemed to have a most bewildering effect upon all save atherton, who, implicitly trusting to the small magnetic needle, knew that it was a matter of impossibility to miss hitting seal island somewhere. by having to frequently pull the starboard yoke-line atherton realised that without the aid of the compass his boat would inevitably have described a wide circle, since the rowers on that side were pulling a stronger stroke than those on the port side. "rocks ahead!" shouted everest, who was perched in the bows of the "otters" boat. "stop pulling: backwater," ordered atherton, and soon both boats were lying five yards apart and within twice that distance of the lee side of seal island. "we've missed the landing, atherton," announced simpson. "we have," agreed the leader. "and what is more, i don't know on which side of it we are. one part of the cliff is very much like another. look here, simpson, you take your boat to the right, and i'll steer mine to the left: we cannot be very much out. the first one that finds the landing must give a hail." the boats separated, both skirting the shore in opposite directions. "there's some one rowing," exclaimed everest. "right ahead." "i think it's simpson's boat," replied atherton. "it is difficult to locate sound in a fog." nearer and nearer came the sound, till atherton knew that he was mistaken. "boat ahoy!" he bawled. there was no reply. whoever it was scorned to take notice of the hail, and the splash of the oars grew fainter and fainter. "here's the landing," announced everest. "why, that boat must have put off from there." "hope the fellow's honest," muttered atherton, "or our camp might be ransacked. i didn't like his churlish manner in not replying. shout to simpson, phillips, and let him know we've found the place." as soon as the boats were hauled up and properly secured and their gear removed, the scouts wended their way up the zig-zag path to the camp. atherton gave a sigh of relief to find that nothing had been interfered with. speedily the tents were opened, the cooks tackled the kitchen fire, while foragers were sent to collect fuel and cover it up so that it might be dry for the morning. as soon as the belated meal was over and the "camp fire" fairly in swing, atherton called simpson aside. "what do you say to keeping watch all night?" he asked. "it may be a useless job, but there is something not quite right. i want to find out who the mysterious visitor to the island is, and what he comes here for." "i'm game," answered the leader of the "wolves." "we'll pick one fellow from each patrol and take two hours each; that will carry us through till sunrise, and i don't fancy any night prowler will be knocking about after that." "beastly rotten night to keep watch, though," commented the "otters" leader. "the mist is turning to rain. tell those fellows to pile on more wood, make sure the tent pegs are firm and the guy-ropes eased off. they had better get into the tents before they get drenched." with the rain the wind rose. at first it was content with moaning fitfully, but before nine o'clock it was literally howling, the explosive fog-signals still maintaining their accompaniment every five minutes. "what's that noise?" asked armstrong, in the interval between two stirring choruses. the scouts listened. above the roar of the wind and the loud tattoo of the rain upon the drum-like canvas of the tents came a weird screech, like the shriek of a human being in agony. "there it is again!" exclaimed baker. "perhaps some one has fallen over the cliff." "it's too loud for a man's voice," said simpson. "all the same i don't like it," remarked reggie scott, in a subdued voice. "come on, kid, you're not afraid?" asked his leader encouragingly, as he patted the tenderfoot on the back. "no, i'm not afraid," replied scott. "but i wish that horrid noise would stop. there it goes again." "pick your man, simpson," said atherton, in a low voice. "i've spoken to mayne and he's game. phillips will remain in charge of our tent, and i suppose you will let neale know that he will be responsible for order in the 'wolves'' tent." "think it's any use?" asked the "wolves'" leader. "it's raining and blowing great guns, and a boat could hardly get across. we may be isolated here for days." "won't matter so long as the grub holds out," replied atherton, cheerfully. "we'll stick to our plan. with greatcoats on we shall be all right." as soon as the other occupants of the two tents were asleep, the two leaders, with mayne and coventry major, donned their heavy coats and made their way down to the landing-place. it was hard work to prevent themselves being forced down the steep path at a break-neck pace, for the force of the wind behind them was terrific, but lower down the overhanging rocks afforded excellent protection. "got your flash lamp?" asked simpson. "i should jolly well think i have," answered atherton. "have you?" "yes; but, i say, will the tents stand it? it is blowing up there." "they would have been down before this, i fancy," remarked atherton. "there's that rummy noise again. what on earth can it be?" "we'll find out to-morrow, if it keeps on," said simpson. "now, coventry, you keep first watch: two hours, my fine fellow. we'll snooze in the hollow of the rocks. if anything suspicious occur, rouse us." sheltering as best he could, coventry major took up his stand and commenced his lonesome vigil. he might well have been spared the task, for, although the island acted as a kind of natural breakwater, the waves were beating so furiously on the landward side of the bay that it would be a matter of sheer impossibility for one or even three men to launch a boat. at the end of his "trick" coventry was relieved by mayne, and he, too, cooled his heels in watchful inactivity. atherton followed, and at length came simpson's turn. "rain's knocking off," he remarked, as he took his chum's post. "that's one blessing." "it will be daylight in less than an hour and a half. as soon as it is fairly light we will get back to our tents and have a decent sleep till half-past six," said atherton. "i've neither seen nor heard a sign of anyone. there's only the howling of the wind, the noise of the fog-signals, and that peculiar shrieking sound to cheer you up, old man." once or twice to the lad's slightly overstrained nerves, simpson imagined he saw something move, but unwilling to rouse his comrades he kept still long enough to make certain that his sense of sight had played him false. he was tired. several times he caught himself dozing: his head would fall forward, only to recover itself with a jarring jerk as he became aware that he was on the point of sleeping at his post. suddenly, at no great distance off, came the heavy report of a gun. the noise brought atherton and his two companions out of their rough-and-ready shelter, and hardly able to realise what was amiss they rejoined simpson. "it was a gun; a vessel in distress off the back of the island, i fancy," said the latter. "back to the camp for all you're worth," exclaimed atherton. "we must turn the others out, and see if we can be of use." but there was no need to arouse the rest of the two patrols. the detonation, sounding much louder on the higher ground than it had in the hollow where atherton and his fellow-watchers had been sheltering, had effectually alarmed the scouts, who, under phillips' orders, had turned out in greatcoats, ready for action. "bring those ropes," shouted atherton, striving to make himself understood above the howling of the wind, "and the large pulleys. there it goes again." a vivid flash, outlining the crest of seal island, was immediately followed by the report, while simultaneously an answering rocket soared skywards from the coastguard station at refuge point. this was acknowledged by the lighthouse on beware point, and a message transmitted to padstow summoning the lifeboat. bending to the storm the scouts, bearing their gear, doubled towards the seaward side of the island, in the direction indicated by the discharge of the gun. dawn was just breaking as they gained the edge of the cliffs. below them, with her bows driven hard against an outlying rock, was a steamer of about eight hundred tons. her funnel and masts had gone by the board, her foremast showing a stump of about ten feet above the deck. cataracts of white water were pouring over her, while cowering on the fo'c'sle were about twenty men. "what can we do?" asked simpson anxiously. "we can't get a rope on board, and the cliffs are too steep to climb." "make fast the rope round me, old chap," said atherton calmly. "i'm going to look over the edge to see what it is like down there." thus secured, the leader of the "otters" crawled over till he was able to command a view of the base of the cliffs. the outlook was not promising. in the grey dawn the kelp-covered rocks were barely distinguishable from the water that lashed itself against the bulwarks of seal island. close to the foot of the cliffs, and immediately below the place on which he was lying, atherton descried a ledge about twenty feet in breadth. although slippery with spray this flat-topped rock was sufficiently high to be out of reach of the actual waves. from it other lower ledges ran seaward, and between two of these the ill-fated steamer had piled herself up on the rocks. "simpson," said atherton, hurriedly, "we must get half a dozen of our fellows down there. there we may be of use. signal to the ship and tell them to try and send a rope ashore. it is impossible for us to heave a line to them in the face of this gale. send down half a dozen staves after us: they may come in useful." while simpson was flag-wagging the message, atherton, phillips, green, mayne, everest and baker were lowered down to the ledge, the two tenderfoots of the "otters" remaining with the "wolves." before the last scout was down a man was observed standing in the bows of the wrecked craft. wave after wave broke over him, but secured by a lashing he worked desperately in order to form a means of communication with the shore with a coil of rope and a life-buoy. "look out!" cautioned atherton, as the life-buoy was hove into the raging waters. "we must get hold of that, somehow." jack phillips, ever resourceful, had already uncoiled about thirty feet of thin but strong line, and had bent one end to the centre of his staff. steadied by his companions the second of the "otters" stood on the brink of the ledge, his staff held harpoon-wise, ready to make a thrust at the life-buoy, that was momentarily drifting nearer and nearer the shore. up went his arm; the ash pole darted obliquely towards the crest of a wave on which the buoy was being swept. he missed the mark by less that a foot, and the life-buoy, left by the receding wave, was jammed in an almost vertical position between two jagged rocks. "i must wait till the next wave shifts it," he bawled to his comrades, for the roar of the wind and waves made ordinary conversation inaudible. with a smother of foam the next breaker hurled itself against the cliff. it was lower than the preceding one and failed to dislodge the life-buoy from its resting-place. "has it gone?" shouted atherton. "no," replied phillips, "i wish it would." then seized by an inspiration, he cast off the line from his staff, tied it round his body and called to his chums to lower away. the next moment he was on his way down to the stranded life-buoy. it was a distance of only ten feet, but every inch of that space was fraught with danger. not only was there a possibility of a huge wave dashing the young scout against the rocks with resistless force, but there were risks of losing his hold on the slippery wall and of the cord that steadied him being unable to withstand the sudden strain. without mishap phillips came within reach of the object of his dangerous task. he grasped the life-buoy, and shouted to the scouts on the ledge to haul away. to his consternation there was no attempt to raise him to safety, while on the other hand a tremendous wave was bearing down upon him. phillips' first impulse was to let go the buoy and swarm up the rope hand over hand. on second thoughts he realised that it was his life against the lives of all the crew of the doomed ship, and to relinquish the means of communication at this juncture would be cowardly and selfish. planting his heels firmly into a niche in the rocks and setting his shoulders against the natural wall, phillips unhesitatingly cast off the cord round his waist and bent it on to the life-buoy. the wave was now barely thirty yards off, and to the inexperienced lad it looked mountainous. "never say die," he muttered between his tightly clenched teeth; but all the same he realised that it was the tightest corner he had yet been into in the course of the sixteen years of his life. then a strange thing happened. the huge breaker was preceded by another of considerable less height. pounding against the rocks the first wave rebounded and met the dangerous one just as it was on the point of curling ere it broke. the collision was insufficient to stop the oncoming wave, but it considerably checked its impetus. it broke; the solid water swirled over the lad's legs till it reached above his knees, while for the next few seconds he was gasping for breath as he swallowed the salt-laden air. the work he had undertaken being accomplished, phillips hesitated no longer. hand over hand he dragged himself, encumbered though he was by his sodden clothing, towards the ledge, till to his unbounded relief he felt his wrists grasped by his companions. "where's the buoy?" asked atherton. "haul away," gasped phillips, "you'll find it," and too exhausted to say more he staggered to the base of the main cliff and sat down to recover his breath. foot by foot the saturated rope came home till the "otters" hauled ashore a large block, through which was rove a heavier rope. "it's a kind of life-saving line, lads," exclaimed atherton. "make fast the pulley as quickly as you can. wedge these staves between these two rocks. see they don't slip: they'll stand the strain." as soon as this was done a message was signalled to the ship announcing that all was in readiness. without delay those on board began to haul on the endless rope, and the scouts saw a man, seated in a life-buoy, leave the stranded vessel. the next instant he was buried in a white-crested wave. the strain upon the ropes was terrific, but they stood the test right well, and as the breaker swept ahead the man was found to be still clinging to the buoy. thrice ere he was hauled to a place of safety he was overtaken by the waves, till quite exhausted the first survivor was assisted to the most sheltered position on the ledge. again and again the buoy made its double journey, and each time it returned with one of the crew. ropes were lowered from the summit of the cliff, and as the rescued men were hauled up by the "wolves" they were escorted to the camp, whither the three tenderfoots had previously been sent to prepare hot coffee. four men only remained on board. the hull was already showing signs of parting amidships. the tide had fallen considerably, and the task of hauling the buoy with its living burdens up to the ledge continually became harder. one of the four, slipping into the buoy, began the hazardous journey. half the distance was accomplished in safety, when a huge wave swept over and passed the doomed vessel. "quite exhausted, the first survivor was assisted to the most sheltered position on the ledge."--_page_ . the scouts felt the strain suddenly relax. when the breaker had passed, their worst fears were realised. the life-line had parted, the man in the buoy was at the mercy of the waves, and the retreat of the remaining three was cut off: chapter xi how came paul tassh on seal island? steadying himself on the rope, atherton stood on the brink of the ledge and watched for the reappearance of the submerged man. the buoy was floating, but for quite a quarter of a minute its late occupant was nowhere to be seen. when at length he rose to the surface, the buoy had drifted ten yards to leeward of him. fortunately the seaman was a swimmer, and without hesitation he struck out for the buoy. "haul in!" ordered atherton, as the man grasped the life-saving object, and passed it over his head and shoulders. promptly the "otters" obeyed, till the leader ordered them to stop. another wave was breaking, and should the man be caught close to the cliffs he would assuredly be dashed to death against the rocks. down came the mountain of water, but instead of carrying the seaman with it, it passed harmlessly by, expending its energy in a blow that raised a column of spray forty feet in the air. "now, haul!" bawled atherton, and to his relief he saw the man drawn clear of the turmoil of foam and unceremoniously dragged upon the ledge. "signal to them to send another line ashore," ordered the leader; but in reply the despairing message came from the wreck, "we have no more rope." "could i swim off to the ship?" asked green. "i'll risk it." "impossible," replied atherton. "it is hopeless to attempt to swim against such a sea." "what is to be done?" asked phillips. "we cannot stand here and let those fellows drown before our eyes." atherton shook his head. all that was humanly possible for them to do had been done. he knew that it was not the first time by any means that men had been drowned in full view of their would-be rescuers. "forepeak's full o' water," announced the last of the saved crew. "that's where there's many a coil o' rope." "couldn't they dive for it or fish it up with a boathook?" asked atherton. "maybe they haven't thought o' that, sir," was the reply. "tell them to make another attempt to find a rope," ordered atherton. "failing that, their only chance is to jump overboard and trust that they lay hold of the ropes we lower to them." but before phillips could send the signal, tom mayne gave vent to a loud shout. "look! look!" he exclaimed, pointing seaward. "the lifeboat!" the scout was right. riding lightly over the mountainous seas was the red-white-and-blue painted lifeboat from gwyll cove. under sail she stood down till within a cable's length of the wreck. to approach closer under sail or oars would be fatal, for the heavy seas would carry the craft upon the jagged rocks. breathlessly the scouts watched the completion of their work of rescue. anchoring well to windward of the wreck the lifeboat men veered out fathom after fathom of stout cable, till the craft drifted to within twenty yards of the fast-disappearing wreck. from this distance it was a fairly easy matter to heave a loaded cane, to which was attached a line, across the steamer's deck, and in a very short time means of communication were established between the lifeboat and the doomed vessel. one by one the three remaining seamen were dragged into safety; the lifeboat hauled out, buoyed and slipped her cable, and hoisted sail. washed again and again as she pounded against the heavy seas, she beat up for gwyll cove, her errand of mercy completed. "come on, lads," said atherton. "we must be getting back to camp." two by two the "otters" were hoisted to the top of the cliffs, whither the last of the men rescued by the scouts had preceded them. breaking into a run, for their work and subsequent wait in the salt-laden atmosphere had chilled them to the bone, the lads made their way towards their temporary home. presently phillips overtook his leader. "don't stop," he panted. "wait till i fall back a bit and then look at the left side of the ruins. there's some one watching us." atherton followed this advice. standing close to the ruined chapelry, and clearly defined against the skyline, was a figure that the lad recognised as paul tassh, the butler at polkerwyck house. "how on earth did the fellow get to the island?" thought the leader. "it has been much too rough since yesterday evening for a boat to put across." when he again glanced in the direction of the ruins, tassh was no longer to be seen. on first thoughts atherton felt inclined to get both patrols to surround the man, for the scout felt now perfectly convinced that he was the mysterious visitor to the tea caves. but, after all, sir silas gwinnear's butler had as much, if not more, right to be on seal island than they had. the man's presence was certainly suspicious, but until he was actually detected in an act that would justify the scouts taking strong measures, atherton felt it advisable to lie low but at the same time keep his eyes and ears open. the tenderfoots had done their task right well, for upon arriving at the camp the other scouts found that not only had the rescued men been provided with hot coffee and food but there was a liberal supply for the lads who had toiled so hard in their act of rescue. the shipwrecked mariners were almost too overjoyed to thank their youthful rescuers. for a long time they could only pat the scouts on the back and utter short, disjointed sentences of mingled admiration and thanks. at last atherton managed to learn the details of the disaster. the wrecked vessel was the ss. _polybus_, of cardiff, homeward bound from bilboa with a cargo of copper ore. in the fog she lost her bearings, and when the storm piped up and dispersed the mist she mistook the lighthouse on beware head for one farther down the coast. a blinding rain-squall shut out the loom of the shore, and ere it passed away the _polybus_ ran hard and fast aground on the ledges to the south-west of seal island. "who is the owner of the ship!" asked atherton, who was jotting down the particulars in his note-book. "blest if i can tell you, sir," replied the seaman, who acted as spokesman. "can any of you, mates?" "not i. s'long as i gets my dibs paid every month 'taint no business o' mine to know who the owners be." the others replied in a similar strain, and for the time being atherton was compelled to leave the answer to this question a blank. "there's no getting across to the mainland to-day," said atherton. "it has left off raining and we may have a chance of drying some of our clothes. you men will have to stay with us till the sea moderates sufficiently for us to put you ashore at polkerwyck. we can let you have the use of a tent, and there's food enough to last us all for some days." although it was now fine, and there were occasional bursts of sunshine between the masses of swiftly driving clouds, the wind howled as loudly as ever. nevertheless the scouts were able to start a large fire, in front of which they and their involuntary guests dried their clothes. atherton's mind was fairly centred on the appearance of tassh on the island, and while the others were occupied he crossed over to where phillips was standing with a pile of dried clothing under his arm. "i say," he remarked. "did you notice where the man went to? did he go into the ruins?" "no, he walked towards the shaft leading to dollar cove," replied the second of the "otters." "baker spotted him and waved his staff and that made the man disappear sharp enough." "baker was a bit of a donkey to attract attention like that," said atherton. "but i mean to find out----" "atherton, there's a man coming this way," announced tenderfoot sayers. the leader looked up. approaching the camp was paul tassh. the butler walked with short, jerky steps. his right shoulder was slightly higher than the other. his face showed that he was badly in need of a shave, for the lower part beneath his side whiskers was covered with a thick stubble. "good-morning, young gentlemen," he exclaimed, with a forced air of jauntiness. "good-morning," replied atherton politely, as was his wont, although he distrusted the man. "if i may be so bold as to ask, sir," continued the butler, "i should like a snack of something to eat. i've had nothing since yesterday morning." "i think we can manage that all right," said atherton. "what has happened to you, then?" "oh, i might just as well explain," said the man between the mouthfuls of bread and cold meat that the scouts gave him. "my name is todd--john brazenose todd. i am a stranger in these parts, having been staying in a cottage just outside polkerwyck. yesterday morning i thought i would like to visit the island, so i hired a boat and landed. before i could return the fog came on, and afterwards the terrible storm. being of a retiring disposition i did not like to intrude, so i kept away from your camp and took refuge in yon ruins. but a man cannot fail to be hungry on two or three biscuits in twenty-four hours." atherton nodded. he knew, as did his fellow scouts, that the fellow's story was a tissue of lies from beginning to end, and he wondered at his audacity when he could not have failed to notice the scouts passing the post-office at noon on the preceding day. atherton's only fear was that some of the scouts might feel inclined to "chip in and give the show away"; but to his relief the lads left all the talking on their side to their leader. "there's not much to see on the island," he remarked. "i suppose you know there was a wreck, and those men over there are some of the crew?" "a wreck? 'pon my word i didn't," replied tassh. "truth to tell i must have been sound asleep in the ruin. never heard a sound. when was it?" "at daybreak this morning," announced atherton. "you must have been sound asleep if you failed to hear guns." paul tassh finished his meal in silence, furtively eyeing the scouts with a supercilious smile on his thin, bloodless lips. "they're too jolly well taken up with fooling about to trouble me," he soliloquised. "all the same they are a confounded nuisance on the island. still, since my retreat is cut off, the only thing to be done is to put up with them. a fine yarn i'll have to pitch up when i get back to the house." meanwhile phillips and simpson had been busily engaged in signalling the names of the rescued men to the coastguard station at refuge point, and a request that a boat should be sent, if possible, to take the men off the island. to this the chief officer of coastguards replied: "well done, scouts. we will put off as soon as the weather moderates. there is still too much sea running in seal bay." it was not until five o'clock that afternoon that a temporary lull occurred, and with the utmost promptitude boats were launched from polkerwyck besides one from the coastguard station. "there be a telegraf for you, sir," announced peter varco, who was the first to land on the island. atherton took the envelope. the message was brief and to the point: "scoutmaster buckley arrives wadebridge station . p.m. send scouts to meet him. hope all well, trematon." "everest and baker," explained their leader, "our temporary scoutmaster, mr buckley, is coming by the . train. mr trematon has wired the information, and has asked me to send some scouts to meet mr buckley. so get some one to put you across, proceed to wadebridge as quickly as you can, and wait there till the scoutmaster arrives. hulloa! where's that fellow, tassh?" mr tassh, _alias_ todd, was nowhere to be seen. unnoticed in the excitement of the arrival of the boats, he had slipped off to the landing-place. there he told a portion of his plausible tale to old roger tregaskis. he knew that it would be hopeless to stick to the name of todd, since he was well known to the inhabitants of polkerwyck, but the yarn of how he had been cut of by the fog went down well enough, and old tregaskis was profuse in his sympathetic expressions, and promptly offered to row mr tassh across to the mainland in order that he might keep an important engagement at polkerwyck house. "good on you, lads!" exclaimed the chief officer of coastguards. "and without a rocket apparatus, too. well, you did the lifeboat men nearly in the eye, this time." "i don't know about that, sir," replied atherton. "you see, we couldn't get the last three men off the wreck, and if the lifeboat hadn't turned up in the nick of time they would have been lost." "all the same you were jolly plucky. i am proud to meet you, lads. don't forget, if you've time to give us a look up at the station, we'll do our best to let you have a right good time." "thank you, sir," replied atherton. "we will be very pleased to visit your station. we went to the lighthouse yesterday, and fully intended to ask whether we might visit the coastguard at refuge point some time next week." "and by the by," said the coastguard officer at parting, "i suppose you know that any cargo or gear that comes ashore is to be handed over to the custody of the receiver of wrecks? i was going to leave a couple of hands to keep a look-out, but i guess you're quite capable and willing to do that part of the business. if you should see anyone tampering with the wreck after the gale moderates, just signal to us, and we'll stop their little game." "very good, sir," replied atherton then, as the weird noises that had so puzzled the scouts during their all-night vigil commenced again, he asked, "what is that sound, sir?" "a bit of a startler when you're not used to it, eh? that is the noise made by the blowing-holes on the south-west side of the island. in rough weather, and at certain states of the tide, the waves force confined air through several small fissures in the hollows of the rocks. it's well worth seeing." the various boats returned to the mainland with the rescued men, everest and baker having been given a passage in peter varco's craft, and once more seal island was untenanted save by the scouts, the rabbits, and the countless seabirds. "thank goodness we've a chance to have a good sleep," ejaculated simpson, with a sigh of utter weariness. "all the same i should like to know how came paul tassh on seal island." chapter xii the burglary "green," said atherton, "i hope you are not so dead tired as i am: will you do me a good turn?" "rather, old chap," replied green, without hesitation. "well, the four of us who stuck up on watch all last night are going to turn in at once. the other fellows won't be long after us, i fancy. what i want you to do is this--to take charge, maintain order, and keep watch for the arrival of mr buckley. directly you hear the boat approaching the landing wake us up. we must give him a rousing welcome, you know." "right-o! i'll see to all that," assented green. "my word, you do look tired." "and i jolly well feel it," agreed atherton, with an irrepressible yawn. "now, you fellows, who's going to have a snooze?" when atherton awoke he could hardly believe his senses. it was broad daylight. the other occupants of the tent, thoroughly tired out with their exertions, were sleeping soundly. the leader sat up and rubbed his eyes. "surely young green never let me sleep like this on purpose," he muttered. "and the new scoutmaster has arrived and i wasn't there to receive him and hand over the care of the two patrols. a pretty fine scout i am; and a nice mess i've made of things." in anticipation of being called at ten o'clock atherton had "turned in all standing." he pulled out his watch. it was seven o'clock. unlacing the door of the tent, the leader stepped out. the sun was shining brightly. the storm had passed, but the wind still remained fairly high. atherton gazed at the ashes of the camp fire. they were still red hot. an iron pot, suspended by a chain from a tripod, was hanging over the embers. the fire had evidently been kept up for long past midnight. "i'll wake green and ask him all about this," said atherton to himself; but a comprehensive examination of the blanket-enshrouded fellows in the "otters'" tent revealed the fact that green was not one of them. the leader made his way to the ridge tent that had been appropriated to the scoutmaster's use. it was closed: the knot securing the flap was on the outside, and since it was quite evident that it was a matter of impossibility for the occupant of a tent to lace the flap on the outside, atherton rightly concluded that mr buckley had not arrived. he gave a sigh of relief; then, seized by an inspiration, he set off at a run towards the landing-place. there, muffled in his greatcoat, and leaning heavily on his staff, was phil green. hearing the approaching footfalls the scout turned. "what's the meaning of this, green?" demanded atherton. "you told me to wait till mr buckley arrived," replied the scout, without the faintest sign of reproach. "i am a bit tired, but really i've enjoyed myself. it was a beautiful sunrise. you missed something by not seeing it, atherton." leader atherton looked at the scout to see if he could detect any signs of "pulling his leg" on green's part. "i'm sorry," he said at length. "it was my fault. i ought to have given more definite orders. cut off now, and get something to eat and then turn in." "nothing to be sorry for, atherton. it was like a bit of the real thing. but how about everest and baker?" "goodness only knows why they haven't turned up. i'll rout out the rest of the 'otters,' and we'll tramp into wadebridge directly after breakfast." "now, 'otters!'" exclaimed atherton, after the meal was over, "we are off to wadebridge to bring in everest and baker, and find out why our temporary scoutmaster hasn't arrived. the 'wolves' can do camp duty till we return. by the by, phillips, since mr trematon got you a gun licence you might just as well make yourself useful. there's his gun: you know how it works, and here are a couple dozen cartridges. see if you can't knock over enough rabbits to make a jolly good stew for supper to-night." accordingly atherton, mayne, sayers and scott manned one of the boats and rowed over to polkerwyck. it was a fairly lively experience crossing seal bay, for there was still a heavy swell running in from the open sea; but at the expense of another drenching with spray--a circumstance that the scouts were quite used to by this time--they landed safely on the lee side of the stone pier. "good morning, mr varco," said atherton, as he formed up his diminished patrol on the quay. "good marnin', young gents. that be a fine piece o' work o' yours yestermorn." "i'm glad we did what we were able to," replied the leader. "by the by, did you see mr tassh come ashore yesterday?" "sure i did. he left t'island in old tregaskis' boat. what wur 'e a-doin' on t'island i should like to know?" "wasn't it too rough last night for a boat to put off?" asked the leader, since he could not satisfactorily reply to the old fisherman's question. "two of our scouts went to wadebridge to meet the . train. i thought perhaps they couldn't get back, and had slept in the village." "no, 'tweren't rough, in a manner o' speakin'. an no scouts came this way up till eleven o'clock, that i du declare." "then they must have found a place to put up at in wadebridge. well, good-bye for the present, mr varco. we must be on the move." as the patrol was passing the post-office the old lady came hobbling out with a small bundle of telegrams. "these came in from wadebridge this marnin'," she explained. "they were too late to be sent on from there last night. i was just a-going to ask peter varco if he'd mind a-taking them across to 'e." "what's up now, i wonder?" asked atherton, looking at the six envelopes. the first one was from mr trematon: "just heard of rescue. i am proud of my scouts." the second was from mr buckley: "missed connection at exeter. arriving to-morrow morning . ." the third completely mystified the scout. "again i am indebted to scouts for a good turn to me and mine. am coming to polkerwyck to personally thank you--silas gwinnear." "what ever does sir silas mean?" asked atherton. "how have we done him a good turn? i vote we reply to say that we do not know that we have done anything for him, unless he means that by helping farmer trebarwith complete his haymaking we have rendered sir silas a service in a roundabout way." "better wait a bit," suggested sayers. "i am as much in the dark as you; but evidently sir silas knows more than we do. what's in the other telegrams, atherton?" number four was from headquarters: "well done, scouts. glad you know how to 'be prepared.'" numbers five and six, couched in similar terms, came from two north london troops who had often co-operated with the st, and were well acquainted with the "otters" and the "wolves." "my eye, they are making a song about it," remarked little reggie scott. "i wish you had let me bear a hand instead of sending me away to make coffee, atherton." "yours was not the least part of the business, scott," replied the leader. "we were all jolly glad you did your part so well, i can assure you. but i agree with you, they are making a song about it. it reminds me of shakespeare's words: 'seeking a bubble reputation at the cannon's mouth.' that's what the bard said, eh, phillips?" "i don't know," replied that worthy. "i only hope we won't be bothered too much, or our holiday will be somewhat spoiled." maintaining a steady pace, the scouts made light work of their march to wadebridge. arriving there they were greeted by everest and baker, who, looking as "chirpy as crickets," were patrolling the station platform. "no luck yet," said the former, nonchalantly. "the scoutmaster hasn't turned up yet." "why didn't you return last night, then?" asked atherton. "return? you said we were to wait for mr buckley. we've had a ripping time. one of the porters made us a jolly bed in the waiting-room, and the stationmaster gave us supper and breakfast. and we know an awful lot how railways are run now, atherton. you've missed something." after being told this on two occasions that morning, atherton began to think he really had missed a novel experience. "we've had a wire," he remarked. "mr buckley is arriving by the . . only another ten minutes to wait." "here she comes," announced atherton, when at length the train was observed in the distance. "form up, lads, and let's give our new scoutmaster a proper scouts' welcome." so intent was atherton upon looking out for the familiar scoutmaster's uniform that he was startled to hear a hearty voice exclaim: "bless my soul, atherton! you here to meet me! and these are your chums, eh?" turning, atherton saw that the speaker was sir silas gwinnear. "no, sir, we are not here to meet you. we did not know you were coming by this train," explained atherton. "all the same we are awfully pleased to see you. it is our new scoutmaster we are waiting for. mr trematon had to go home on important business." "oh," exclaimed the baronet with a slight tinge of disappointment. "no matter; we'll all run down to polkerwyck house in my motor. squeeze you all in at a pinch. ha there is your scoutmaster, i see." mr buckley, having seized the opportunity of doing a good turn by assisting out of the carriage a very timid and fussy old lady with a heap of small parcels, had not been able to make a prompt appearance. he was a heavily built man of about thirty-five, slightly above middle height, clean shaven; his full face and fairly heavy jaw denoting firmness and good temper. he had been a lieutenant in the royal navy, but owing to a gunnery accident that greatly impaired the use of his right arm, he was invalided on a modest pension. it was galling to him to be compelled to give up his prospects in the service, but he made the best of a bad job. in spite of his disability he took up a scoutmastership, and soon worked his troop into a state of efficiency. always ready to oblige his friends, mr buckley had willingly agreed to take over temporary charge of the scouts of seal island, and now he was in touch with one of his future patrols. returning the scouts' salute, mr buckley looked enquiringly at the gentleman who was waxing so enthusiastic over the lads. "this is sir silas gwinnear who is letting us have the use of seal island, sir," explained atherton. "and who is indebted to young atherton for saving my life, and to him and his fellow scouts for saving the lives of several of the crew of one of my ships," added the baronet. "one of your ships, sir?" asked atherton, in astonishment. "yes, the _polybus_: you saw the account in this morning's papers, mr----?" "buckley," said the scoutmaster. "yes, i saw the account in the papers, but i did not notice to whom the vessel belonged." "haven't you seen the papers, lads?" asked sir silas. "no, sir," was the reply. "h'm; when you do i hope you won't suffer with swollen heads, lads. all the same it was a gallant deed. do you know, mr buckley, up to only a few days ago i held strong unfavourable views on the scout movement. it will be unnecessary for me to state what they were as i am now convinced of my error. if all scouts are like these--and i have been assured that they are no better and no worse than their fellows in all parts of the world--mankind owes a debt of gratitude to the founder of the movement. to show my practical appreciation of what these lads have done, i have come down to polkerwyck house for the rest of the time they remain at seal island. mr buckley, i trust you will avail yourself of my offer and ride down to polkerwyck in my car?" "but these lads?" asked the scoutmaster. "they, of course, are included: the more the merrier. my car is a fairly large one, and i have no doubt that the scouts can exercise their ingenuity in stowing themselves somewhere." so saying, sir silas led the way out of the station to where a powerful six-seater was drawn up. sir silas and the scoutmaster occupied a seat each, one of the scouts perched himself beside the chauffeur, and the remaining five contrived to squeeze in without regard to their cramped quarters. all the lads agreed that it was infinitely better than tramping up and down dale upon the hard granite roads, for the car, under the guidance of the skilled chauffeur, simply flew. eleven minutes from the time of leaving the station the car drew up at the gates of polkerwyck house. the lodge keeper hastened to throw open the massive iron gates embellished with sir silas gwinnear's arms, but before the chauffeur could restart, a sergeant of the cornish constabulary, accompanied by a policeman and a plain-clothes officer, stepped up and saluted the baronet. "sorry to have to inform you, sir silas, that up to the present we haven't any clue," said the sergeant. "clue? what on earth do you mean, coombes?" asked the baronet in astonishment. "about the burglary, sir; haven't----" "burglary--where?" "didn't mr tassh wire to you, sir?" "certainly not. what's wrong now?" "mr tassh reported to us early this morning that polkerwyck house had been broken into during the night and a large quantity of silver had been taken away." "my silver? surely none of the presentation plate i had given me by lloyds'?" "unfortunately, sir, that is missing." "come back to the house, coombes. drive on, rogers." "we had better get down, sir silas," suggested mr buckley. "i am sure that in this unfortunate trouble we do not want to thrust our company upon you." "there's no thrust about it. stay where you are, mr buckley, and you, too, lads. now, atherton, you're a sharp lad. you've been jolly useful to me twice, and there's nothing like three for luck. use your wits, and put your scouting abilities to the test." there was a constrained silence amongst the numerous servants as sir silas entered the hall of polkerwyck house and led his youthful guests into the study. "the police will be here directly," he observed. "meanwhile i'll have the butler in and see what he has to say." in a few minutes tassh, dressed in his black suit, obsequiously entered the room. "what's all this i hear, tassh?" asked the baronet. "some of my silver gone, eh? tell me about it." "i locked up last night, sir, as i always do. this morning when i came down at . the safe was open, and the silver, which you gave orders was to be placed there for safety, was missing. there were marks of a jemmy on the window-sash, and footprints on the flower-beds outside. i immediately told the housekeeper, and sent williams on horseback to fetch the police." "h'm; have you made a list of what is missing?" "not yet, sir; truth to tell i was so upset that i haven't recovered my normal self." "it would have been better if you had recovered my silver," remarked the baronet, grimly. "or better still if you had taken steps to prevent the burglars from making their haul. how about the electric alarm?" tassh hesitated before replying. "it must have been out of order, sir." "then it was your place to see that it was in order, tassh. you are quite sure you slept in the house last night? i remember i had to speak to you on one occasion for stopping at padstow one night last winter." "i've never slept out of the house since you left, sir," said the butler, with conviction. atherton and his companions exchanged glances. the cool, bold-faced audacity of the man to make a declaration like that when he had been the involuntary guest of the scouts only the day before seemed too stupendous for words. "very good, tassh, you may go," said sir silas. "ah, here is coombes! now, coombes, let us hear what you know of the matter." "precious little, sir, unfortunately. the front of the safe has been cut through with an electric drill. here is the lock, sir. the window was forced, showing that the burglars entered that way, but the strange thing about it, sir, is that they must have left by some other way, since none of the footsteps lead away from the house." "there were two or more burglars?" "undoubtedly, sir. the weight of the stolen stuff is too great for one man to carry." "well, do your best, coombes. tell your inspector that i am offering two hundred pounds reward for the capture and conviction of the burglar or burglars. let me know at once if there is any information." "very good, sir," said the sergeant, and, saluting, he withdrew. "now, atherton, have you any suggestions to make?" asked sir silas. "you are the--er--leader, don't you call it?--of the patrol. but perhaps you haven't had time to consider the case properly?" "can i examine the window by which the burglars are supposed to have entered, sir?" "certainly, you have a free hand." "i wonder if sir silas is trying to pull atherton's leg?" whispered baker to his chum everest. "shut up!" replied everest. "if he is, he doesn't know atherton as i do. atherton's on to something, i'll stake my word." the leader of the "otters" carefully examined the marks of the jemmy, tried the window fastenings and the sash frames. "now, sir, may i see the lock of the safe?" sir silas pointed to the cut-out portion of metal containing the complicated lock. "the story of the burglars is a make-up, sir," announced atherton. chapter xiii flight "what!" exclaimed sir silas and mr buckley, simultaneously. "a make-up? explain yourself, atherton." "that i think is fairly simple, sir," said the scout. "the marks on the window-frame show that a jemmy has been used, but unless the sash-frame on that side were prised out the window could not be opened by those means. no professional burglar would attempt to use a jemmy on a window; he would stick a piece of putty to the glass close to the fastening, and cut round it with a diamond. that would be a noiseless operation, while the force that caused those dents would make quite a racket. then, sir, there is the lock. the front of the safe has been electrically drilled. upon examining it i find that the drill was applied from the inside." "from the inside?" repeated the baronet. "yes, sir silas. the door was first opened with the proper key, swung back, and cut whilst in that position." "by jove, atherton, i believe you are right," exclaimed the scoutmaster, holding a pocket microscope to the portion of the metal door. "do you suspect anyone in your house, sir?" he added, addressing sir silas. "it looks a serious matter for my butler to explain. i'll send for him." "one minute, sir," said atherton. "mr tassh spent the night before last on seal island." "but he declared just now that he never slept out of the house during the whole time i was away. are you sure of this?" "well, sir, he pitched a yarn into us that his name was todd, and that he was a stranger to the place. he couldn't get back to polkerwyck because it was too rough, and in the morning we gave him some food." "i won't say anything about your discovery to him at present, atherton. i'll ask him to bring in some refreshment. in my concern about this robbery i quite overlooked my duties as a host, mr buckley." "tassh, bring in some sandwiches, cake, lemonade and anything else you think these young gentlemen may fancy," ordered the baronet. "yes, sir," replied the butler; and in a few minutes he returned with a loaded tray. "by the by, tassh," said sir silas in a well-assumed casual tone, "i suppose you have seen these young gentlemen before to-day?" "yes, sir. saw them when they arrived, and again the other day when i called in at the post-office." "but the night before last?" "the night before last, sir?" repeated the butler, in a mechanical voice. "i don't understand, sir." "but i hear that you were on seal island." "quite a mistake, sir. i haven't set foot on seal island for more than a twelvemonth, and that was when i went with farmer trebarwith." "it is sometimes awkward for a man to have a double, tassh," said sir silas grimly, "especially in a small place like polkerwyck. all the same, tassh, i have a few questions to put to you later on. go to your room and remain there till i send for you." "very good, sir." without the faintest trace of emotion the butler withdrew. the baronet waited till the latch of the door clicked and turned to atherton. "you are quite sure of what you said about tassh?" "yes, sir; and the rest of us saw him too." "but there is such a thing as mistaken identity?" "well, then, sir, in that case both peter varco and tregaskis saw him. tregaskis took him off the island in his boat." "strange," commented sir silas. "and, sir," continued atherton, "since tassh is so keen on concealing his movements, i must say that his downright bluff in denying his identity confirms our suspicions. more than once some one has visited the tea caves by night. one man only, and one wearing large boots and taking very small footsteps. on one occasion he came by boat and took some of our thole-pins. how he managed on other occasions we cannot yet make out." "i think there is enough circumstantial evidence to warrant his arrest," declared the baronet. "you know the local police station, i suppose, lads? ah, that's good. will one of you slip out quietly and see if sergeant coombes is still there. if not, bring gregory, the policeman." "i say, atherton, you are making a most grave statement against the man," cautioned mr buckley. "if there is a mistake the result will be serious, you know." "there is quite enough cause, since tassh has deliberately told me falsehoods concerning his visit to seal island," said the baronet. "i'll take all responsibility should there be any question of illegal arrest, mr buckley." a quarter of an hour later polglaze, the plain-clothes officer, cycled up to the house. "sergeant coombes is following, sir," he announced. "have you discovered any clue, sir silas?" "yes," replied the baronet, grimly. "thanks to these scouts. i want you to arrest paul tassh on a charge of theft." in a few words sir silas explained the situation, and in spite of professional jealousy the detective was bound to admit that atherton's deductions were quite sufficient to justify the step the baronet was about to take. sir silas touched the bell communicating with the butler's private room. he waited a full minute and rang again. there was no reply. "strikes me very forcibly that i've given the fellow a chance and he's taken it, by jove!" remarked sir silas, as he touched an electric push that rang a bell in the servants' hall. "jones, go to tassh's room and tell him to come instantly," ordered the baronet, as a young under-footman entered. "stay: perhaps, mr polglaze, you would like to accompany jones?" two minutes later the detective returned. "he's in his room, sir, but he's locked himself in," announced polglaze. "i demanded admittance three times, but before i burst open the door i thought i would tell you, sir silas." "do you think tassh has done himself an injury?" asked the baronet, anxiously. "judging by the man's appearance i should say not. he may have slipped off. station two of your scouts outside his window, mr buckley, if you don't mind." the under-footman pointed out the window to baker and mayne, and returned with the intelligence that it was closed. since the window was fifteen feet from the ground, and had a very narrow sill, it was most unlikely that tassh could have made good his escape and at the same time closed the window after him. outside, in the corridor, sir silas, the detective, the scoutmaster and the remaining scouts halted. polglaze knelt down and attempted to peep through the keyhole. the key was in the lock and effectually thwarted the detective's action. "does tassh carry firearms, sir?" he asked. "not to my knowledge." "then it is possible that he is armed. if he is desperate we may have a lively reception. suppose, sir silas, we tell these lads to go downstairs out of danger? we will then wait till coombes and gregory arrive, force the door and rush our man." somewhat reluctantly in spirit, yet with alacrity, the scouts obeyed their scoutmaster's order to get out of harm's way. as they were descending the stairs the sergeant and the village policeman, both very red in the face with exertion, came hurrying up. "open the door instantly, tassh," ordered sir silas in a loud voice. there was no reply. only the ticking of a grandfather's clock at the head of the stairs and the laboured breathing of the two policemen broke the silence. "force it," said the baronet, laconically. polglaze put his shoulder to the door. the good, old-fashioned oak resisted his efforts. "bear a hand here, coombes," he said. "now, together." the sixteen-stone cornish sergeant's weight added to the detective's modest eleven did the trick. the door, forced from its hinges, flew inwards, coombes following it and sprawling heavily upon the floor. the room was empty. "he must be somewhere about," said the detective. "we know the door is locked on the inside. a man cannot go out of a room, shut a door, and lock it on the inside, can he?" the room was in a fairly tidy state. a white table-cloth covered the table. on it were the remains of a meal, and a box of cigars that sir silas recognised as containing his special brand. a sporting paper and a copy of one of the county journals with an account of the supposed burglary lay on one of the chairs, the former apparently having been dropped there when the butler received his orders to attend upon sir silas. his watch was hanging from a hook by the side of the large mantelpiece. all pointed to the fact that tassh's departure had been hurriedly performed; at the same time the question arose, how did he manage it? "well, polglaze?" "this knocks me, sir silas," replied the detective, rubbing his shoulder that was beginning to forcibly remind him that oaken doors cannot be charged with impunity. "shall i see what those scouts make of it?" asked the baronet, with a grim sense of humour. "let 'em have a shot at it, by all means, sir silas," said polglaze. "this beats cockfighting." but the scouts had to own themselves beaten for the time being at least. they tried the walls, floor, chimney, and everything they could think of, but without success. "i believe he got out by the chimney," suggested sergeant coombes, who, since his tumble, had judiciously kept silent in order to regain his breath. "the soot hasn't been disturbed," said atherton. "that's what i particularly noticed." "all the same i say it's the chimney, young man," said the sergeant, with a brave show of dignity. "and until you prove to my satisfaction that 'tain't, well then, 'tis the chimney, i say." "don't stand there laying down the law, coombes," said the detective. "every minute tassh is no doubt getting farther and farther away. gregory, hurry back to the village and telephone through to all the stations nearabouts. give the full details, although i'll stake my life there's hardly a policeman within twenty miles who doesn't know paul tassh." at mr buckley's suggestion the scouts made a complete circuit of the house, examining the ground for possible trails; but all to no purpose. at three o'clock the lads bade farewell to their host, at the same time expressing their sympathy at the loss, and their regret at their inability to do anything of service in the matter. as the patrol descended the hill leading to the village, baker pointed to seal island. "look," he exclaimed. "there's something wrong with the 'wolves,' i do declare." chapter xiv phillips' discovery as soon as his comrades of the "otters" had embarked on the first stage of their journey to wadebridge station to meet their temporary scoutmaster, jack phillips sallied forth on his shooting expedition. he was a crack miniature-rifle shot, but although he understood the principle of a twelve-bore gun, he was an absolute novice at the task that had been deputed to him. a few hundred yards brought him to the fringe of the rabbit warren--an extensive undulating tract of gorse-covered heath liberally honeycombed with holes. pulling a couple of cartridges from his pocket, phillips loaded; then, every sense on the alert, he moved cautiously forward. yard after yard he walked at a slow pace, but, although he saw hundreds of the swiftly moving little animals far beyond range, not one accommodatingly showed itself to be shot at. "that's jolly strange," muttered the scout. "when a crowd of us came over here there were rabbits running about everywhere; now they keep a very respectful distance. i wonder if they know a gun when they see one?" phillips halted to straighten his back and to wipe the moisture from his forehead. "what's that?" he exclaimed to himself, as the sound of a sharp thud came from almost under his feet. he listened intently. the noise was repeated. "i wonder if there's a cave underneath here?" he thought. "seems almost as if there's a man using a pick, only the noise is rather different." he knelt down and placed his ear against the ground. a wasp, busy amongst the gorse, promptly buzzed so close that he jumped hastily to his feet. "bothered if i can understand it," he said to himself. "i'll mention it to atherton when he comes back. the island seems chock full of mysterious noises. but, there, i shan't get any rabbits if i fool about here, so here goes." on and on he went till he neared the cliff on the eastern side of the island, but without the chance of a shot. "the rabbits are not out to-day, that's evident," he muttered. "perhaps they will be more in evidence this afternoon. i'll get back to the camp, for the longer i stay the more the other fellows will expect me to bring back." with his gun under his arm, phillips set off at a steady pace, following almost the same route that he had taken on his outward journey. half way across the warren, a rabbit suddenly darted out of the furze bush and tore off as hard as it could away from the lad, at the same time making a wide curve to the right. before phillips could fully cock his gun and raise it to his shoulder the rabbit was beyond ordinary range. the scout took a rapid aim and pressed the trigger. with a report that, compared with the crack of a miniature rifle, was like a cannon going off, the gun kicked and sent the lad spinning. in his excitement he forgot the pain of the blow, for the rabbit was sprawling on the ground. "got one, at any rate," exclaimed phillips, gleefully. placing his gun on the ground with more haste than care the scout ran towards his prize; but before he had covered half the distance the rabbit contrived to regain its feet and crawl down a hole. "what a nuisance," said the scout dolefully, and, lying at full length, he thrust his arm down the hole in the hopes of being able to secure the wounded animal. he could hear it scuffling only a few feet away, but it was a case of so near and yet so far: as far as he was concerned he had lost his trophy. rather crestfallen, phillips returned to the camp, where he found farmer trebarwith surrounded by an attentive audience of the "wolves." "got anything?" asked neale. "we heard you firing." "of course he's got some," said hayes. "he's shot so many that he's had to leave them for us to go out and fetch." "you jolly well shut up," retorted phillips. "i knocked one over, and that's more than you could do, hayes." "where is it, then?" asked his tormentor. "it slipped down a hole." "ha! ha! ha!" laughed hayes and the two coventrys. "that's enough," said simpson, reprovingly. "i'll bet phillips did his best." "have you unloaded, young gentleman?" asked the farmer. "always make sure you have no cartridges in your gun when you leave the warren. bless me i'll tell ye how to knock over the rabbits, if you like." "you usually take a dog with you, don't you?" asked phillips. "yes, a dog will turn out any rabbit that is lying close. all the same it isn't necessary. now, i saw you going through the warren, and i said to myself, 'sure he'll be main lucky if he gets a shot.' you have to stalk 'em. keep dead against the wind, and have your gun ready to let fly directly you see a movement in the bushes. you were going with the wind, and they know your scent. coming back you walked too quickly. it was only haphazard-like that you had a shot at one at all." "i believe i walked over a cave or something," said phillips. "i heard a funny sort of tapping noise." "whereabouts?" asked several of the scouts. "right in the middle of the warren." "don't you know?" asked the farmer. "that's the rabbits in their holes giving warning to those in other burrows. they hit the ground with their hind foot. when you hear that 'tain't much use to stay there: they won't come out again in a hurry." "i'll try again," said phillips, giving a glance at the large iron pot that stood in a suggestive position close to the fire. making a wide detour, he got to leeward of the warren, then stealthily made his way against the wind. before he had gone fifty yards two young rabbits of fair size fell the victims of his gun. three minutes later another excellent shot at sixty yards added a third to the scout's bag. "it seems to me that i shall have to send hayes to fetch them after all," he mused, as he lifted the three dead rabbits. "they are heavy." phillips waited a little longer to give the denizens of the warren time to recover from their fright at the discharge of the gun, then he resumed his stealthy advance. right ahead were the ruins of the old oratory. the scout remembered that there was a fairly open expanse on the other side where he had often seen the rabbits frisking in the sunshine. "i'll take cover in the ruins and see if i cannot get in a double-barrelled shot," he said to himself, and with that object in view he crept up the slope on which the ruins stood. the remains of the chapelry consisted of three roofless walls with open lancet windows. on the west side the masonry had been removed, several masses of stone lying in disorder all down the slope. the walls were destitute of foliage, not even so much as a tendril of ivy softening the hard effects of the dark grey stone. since by entering the building on the west side the scout would have to run the risk of being observed, phillips decided to crawl through one of the lancet windows, cross the dust-covered floor, and take up a favourable position at the window looking northward. the opening was narrow. phillips just unloaded his gun, passed the weapon through, and then began to squeeze between the stonework. as he did so he was surprised to see a portion of the floor almost underneath that window give an upward motion. the dust rose, and as the slab fell there was a well-defined trace of the joint in the stonework. again the slab trembled: it was being forced up from beneath. the scout took in the situation at a glance. quickly grasping his gun, he dragged it through the window and propped it against the outside wall, so that it could not be seen from within. then removing his hat, he peered between two displaced stones, and waited. he had not long to wait. with a lusty heave the stone rose and toppled backwards, disclosing a circular cavity of about two feet in diameter. out of the hole appeared the head and shoulders of a man. placing his hands on the edge of the aperture, the fellow raised himself clear of the hole and stood blinking in the strong sunlight. "golly! it's that chap tassh. whatever is his little game," thought phillips. as soon as his eyes grew accustomed to the daylight, tassh replaced the stone, scattered dust over it, and stole to one of the windows in the opposite wall to the one behind which the scout was crouching. looking in the direction of the camp, tassh muttered an inaudible exclamation, then bending low he crept across the fairly open space and gained the shelter of the gorge. here he broke into a run, and was soon lost to sight as he made off in the direction of the tea caves. "atherton was right: that chap's up to mischief, i'll be bound," thought phillips. "well, it's not much use my following him alone. he's making for the caves we explored the other day. i'll rout out simpson and the 'wolves,' and we can decide what's to be done." "i say, simpson," he exclaimed breathlessly, as he reached the camp, "i've seen----" "yes, seen--but how many did you shoot?" asked the leader of the "wolves." "we're waiting to dress the rabbits in time for our new scoutmaster." "they'll have to wait. i've knocked over three. but, i say, i've made a discovery. i've just seen tassh crawl out of a secret tunnel opening into the old ruins." at this startling information the "wolves" were in a state of excitement. neale and fraser proposed following the butler, surrounding him and peremptorily demanding an explanation of his suspicious actions--a suggestion that the two coventrys and armstrong backed up for all they were worth. "no, we must wait till we've spoken to mr buckley," said simpson. "we have no authority to waylay the man. i'll tell you what we can do: we'll take possession of the ruins so that he cannot return to the cave or tunnel, whatever it is, without being seen. hurry up, you fellows; get your staves. no shouting, mind. double." it did not take the "wolves" long to reach the ruins. "where's the hole, phillips?" asked several of the lads. without replying, phillips walked across to the concealed stone and swept away a layer of dirt and dust that tassh had thrown over it. "here you are; help me to heave it up," he said, as soon as the position of the slab was disclosed. "why, here's a ring let into the stone! now, all together." thrusting a staff through the rusty ring, the scouts gave a combined heave. the stone came up quite easily. "i might have known that," remarked phillips to the leader of the "wolves." "tassh pushed it up, and he does not look a particularly strong man. but why is the lid so light in comparison with its size?" an examination revealed that the lid was deeply hollowed on the under side, so that its weight was hardly a quarter of what it would have been had the cavity not existed. "we must have walked over the stone dozens of times and not noticed it sounded hollow," said hayes. "now what are we going to do, simpson?" "we'll just have a look at this hole or tunnel, whatever it is. golly! atherton's missed something by going off to meet the scoutmaster." "i wonder how deep it is," said coventry minor, peering into the pit that yawned at his feet. "there are no steps as far as i can make out." "i can see a niche on your side, coventry," announced fraser. "it looks deep enough to get a good foothold." "be careful, young coventry," cautioned simpson, as the lad sat down at the edge of the hole, turned face downwards and groped for the niche. "i'm used to it," replied coventry minor, confidently. "here's another one. it's quite easy." phillips and the remaining "wolves" watched the scout make his way farther and farther down the shaft, till he had descended quite a dozen of the rough footholds cut into the rock. "haven't you got to the bottom yet, coventry?" simpson called out, with a tinge of anxiety in his voice. "you had better come back, and we'll go to the camp and get some rope and candles." the scout instantly began to retrace his footsteps. possibly owing to the fact that he had already performed the harder task of descending, he momentarily allowed his sense of caution to desert him. the fingers of both hands simultaneously slipped from a lichen-covered niche. he struggled desperately to recover his hold, and fell. the lads, gathered round the mouth of the pit, heard a stifled cry followed by a dull thud, then all was silent. "off belts, lads," ordered leader simpson. in a few seconds a leathern rope, twenty feet in length, was made up. simpson fastened one end round a staff which was held by four of the scouts, and threw the free end down the pit; then, without hesitation, he grasped the improvised life-line and swung himself lightly over the edge. simpson knew he could trust to these belts. they were not the cheap shoddy article, but well-made ones of well-seasoned leather. the buckles, too, were strong and reliable, so that the leader of the "wolves" had good cause to have perfect faith in the rope of belts. hand over hand he descended, until he knew that he was literally almost at the end of his tether. then, proceeding slowly and cautiously, and keeping his feet rigid, he continued his downward course till his hand encountered the buckle joining the two lowermost belts. "i must risk it and drop," he thought, finding himself unable to touch the side of the pit. "it cannot be so much farther to the bottom." relaxing the muscles of his legs in order to bear the shock with the least risk of broken limbs, simpson released his hold and dropped--a distance of less than two feet. with a sigh of relief he drew a box of matches from his pocket and struck a light. lying almost at his feet was the unfortunate coventry minor. the lad was senseless and bleeding from a cut just above the left ear. there was no time to be lost. it was imperative that the luckless scout should be brought up to the open air as quickly as possible. by the aid of another match, simpson discovered the position of the line of niches. then, unfastening the unconscious lad's belt, he refastened it round his chest just beneath his arm-pits. this done, the leader clasped the buckle at the end of his emergency rope to the ring in coventry minor's belt. "haul up, slowly and steadily!" he shouted. ascending by means of the niches, simpson accompanied his senseless charge, steadying the lad's body to prevent it swaying against the rock, till at length to his great relief neale and fraser grasped the rescued scout and grew him clear of the shaft. "is he dead?" asked the unfortunate lad's brother, anxiously. "no, he's stunned. the sooner we get back to camp and fetch a doctor the better, hayes and armstrong, cut off as fast as you can, take the small boat and row across to polkerwyck and fetch dr. carraway. leave your staves here. now, 'wolves,' form a stretcher." in remarkably quick time the stretcher, formed by means of staves, belts, and long stalks of bracken, was made, and in broken-step form the scouts carried their comrade towards the camp, phillips walking by the side to guard against the possibility of the patient falling off. before they had covered half the distance, phillips perceived his patrol descending the road to polkerwyck harbour. chapter x v the exploration of the tunnel bringing his binoculars to bear upon the stretcher party of the "wolves," mr buckley saw that an accident had occurred. "you look through my glasses, atherton," said the scoutmaster. "you'll know who it is." atherton did so. he was half afraid that there had been a shooting accident, but a glance removed that anxiety. the injured scout he recognised as coventry minor, and since phillips understood that on no account was he to be accompanied by anyone else while carrying the gun, the logical conclusion was that the injured scout had not received his hurt by this means. "there's hayes at the landing-place," announced atherton. "he's calling us up by semaphore. reply to him, baker, and i'll read the message." baker stood upon the end of the stone pier so that his dark green shirt showed up plainly against the white-washed wall behind him. "coventry has fallen down a hole. concussion. still unconscious. fetch doctor," read atherton. "hurry up and bring the doctor along with you, everest," said mr buckley. "green and baker will remain here with one of the boats. how many have you?" "two, sir," replied the leader. "one is on the island side." "signal to those fellows to bring that boat over, then," continued the scoutmaster. "we can then get across and see what's wrong." while everest was on his way to dr carraway--for the scouts had made it a point of finding out where the doctor lived almost as soon as they arrived at polkerwyck--the scoutmaster and the four "otters" crossed to the island. during the passage hayes and armstrong told their comrades what had occurred, and how phillips had discovered the butler's hiding-place. "hiding-place," repeated atherton. "most likely a tunnel communicating with polkerwyck house. didn't sir silas say that the house used to be an old monastic building, and that it was partially rebuilt on the existing foundations? what puzzles me, though, is why tassh did not return by the tunnel on the night of the wreck, since he evidently came to the island by that way." "you've a fine site for a camp here, lads," remarked mr buckley, as the two patrols met. "it is unfortunate, though, that your holiday should be marred by this accident." the scoutmaster knelt by the unconscious scout. "yes, he's had a nasty blow," he said, observing coventry's skin was pale and cold, his pulse feeble, and his breathing slow and punctuated by distressing sighs. "raise his head a little more; we ought to place him in a darkened room as soon as possible. in any case, one of you stand so that the shadow falls across his face." "there's a small cave down by the landingplace, sir," said phillips. "it will not be so far for the doctor to come." "very good," assented the scoutmaster. "lead on. steady now, stretcher-bearers. mind you don't slip on this steep path." carefully little coventry was carried into the cave, where in the semi-gloom he was carefully tended by two of his comrades. mr buckley also remained in the cave, awaiting the arrival of the doctor. the rest of the scouts returned to the camp, when, under atherton's directions, steps were taken to keep tassh under observation. three of the "wolves" were sent to take cover close to that part of the cliff overhanging the tea caves. a strong party, carefully concealed, occupied the ruined oratory, in order to cut off the rogue's retreat by force, if necessary; while between the ruins and the tea caves relays were posted in order to hasten to the assistance of the outlying scouts should occasion arise. it was not long before the doctor arrived on the scene, and was escorted to the cave where the patient lay. "you've done excellently, lads," he remarked to the scouts in attendance. "he has had a severe blow, but youth and clean living are in his favour. he'll soon be all right. meanwhile, keep him here in the dark until nearly sunset. see that his feet and arms are kept warm. when the twilight gathers in, you must bring him across to polkerwyck. i will make arrangements for him to be nursed at my house." "it's awfully good of you, doctor," said mr buckley, warmly. "nonsense: we're used to it. every summer i have on an average a dozen similar cases. visitors seem to have an insane desire to climb the cliffs. they are not used to it, they look down, and then the mischief is done. well, i cannot do more at present. give him a draught of this every hour, and keep him warm, especially when bringing him across the bay in the boat." in duty bound mr buckley gave information to the police that tassh was seen on the island. at the scouts' earnest request he did not say by what means the butler got there, since the lads wished to have the honour of exploring the tunnel. within a very short time seal island was invaded. a dozen county police, drawn from the neighbourhood, nearly the whole of the detachment from refuge point coastguard station, and almost all the male population of polkerwyck flocked to the place. every nook and cranny was investigated, the caves systematically explored, but without result. although nearly thirty people searched the ruined oratory not one noticed the granite lid covering the pit, in spite of the fact that the scouts, with an idea of fair play, took no steps to conceal the joints in the stone floor with dust. tired out with their exertions, the scouts retired to rest as soon as coventry minor had been carried to the doctor's house. undisturbed by the noise of the untrained searchers the lads slept soundly, till the morning revealed seal island untenanted save by themselves and a couple of policemen, who, at the scoutmaster's suggestion, had installed themselves in the old oratory to keep a long and fruitless vigil. "he's slipped through our fingers, sure enough, sir," remarked one of the constables. "all night we've been on the alert. no doubt he's managed to swim across to the mainland when he found we were hard on his track. we'll be going now, sir, and leave you in peace and quietness, so to speak. if you see or hear anything, sir, happen you won't mind sending one of your young chaps to give us the tip?" as soon as the policemen were well clear of the island, and the scouts had had breakfast, steps were taken to continue the search for sir silas gwinnear's butler, and also to explore the tunnel which they had good reason to believe communicated with the mainland. the latter task was the more enviable. both patrols wished to undertake that particular business, and urged their respective claims till the scoutmaster had gently and firmly to remind them of their sense of discipline. "you cannot all explore the tunnel," he added. "one patrol will be quite sufficient for that. the other will keep an eye on the camp, guard the landing-place and the approach to the tea caves. i suppose you have no objection to decide the matter by lots?" walking away for a few steps, mr buckley gathered a handful of long grass. from this he selected two blades, one much longer than the other. these he held in his hand, with an inch of each showing at equal length. "now, scouts, the one who draws the longest blade represents the patrol to explore the tunnel. one of the tenderfoots can draw: that's right, scott." reggie scott pulled out one of the blades of grass from the scoutmaster's clenched fist. it was the long one. "good: the 'otters' will explore the tunnel. the 'wolves' will take up positions i have indicated on this map. it is a very clear map, simpson, by the way. you did it excellently. already by its means i have quite a comprehensive knowledge of seal island." carrying ropes, two camp lanterns, and a supply of candles and matches, the "otters" made their way to the ruined oratory, where the stone covering to the pit was soon raised. "i do not mean to go with you, lads," said the scoutmaster. "i feel confident you will get on all right without me. rope your men, atherton; keep one well ahead of the rest in case there is an accumulation of poisonous gases, which i do not for one moment suppose is the case. so long as the candles burn brightly there is no danger on that score." "tassh came through all right, sir," remarked everest. "that was only yesterday." "and once, at least, according to all accounts, he was prevented from returning. so it is evident that at times there is some obstruction. however, 'be prepared' and you'll come out on top." one by one the "otters" were lowered into the gaping pit, mr buckley letting tenderfoot sayers down last of all. this done, he took up his position at the top of a spiral stone staircase that terminated abruptly almost on a level with the roofless walls. here, with only the upper portion of his face showing above the masonry, he was able to command a panoramic view of the island and seal bay. moreover, he was ready to render assistance should the "otters" find the tunnel impracticable and have to return by the same way as they went. the "otters" found themselves in the mouth of a passage hewn out of the solid rock. [illustration: "in broken-step form the scouts carried their comrade towards the camp."--_page_ .] it was roughly from five to six feet in height and thirty inches wide. the floor was ankle deep in dry dust that showed unmistakable signs of the same person having passed to and fro on several occasions. with the candle-light glimmering on the walls the scouts advanced, atherton leading by twenty paces, the rest following at shorter intervals and linked together by a light yet strong rope. the progress was slow, for atherton, cautious lest he should stumble into a hidden pitfall, systematically sounded the ground with his staff at every other step. for nearly three hundred paces the tunnel sloped steeply downwards, the walls remaining perfectly dry--a circumstance that showed the passage was still under the island. beyond that distance, although the tunnel was still on the down grade, the roof and walls showed signs of moisture, while in place of the dry dust the floor was ankle deep in slime. overhead a deep muffled roar betokened the fact that the sea was only separated from the scouts by a few feet of rock, through which the sound of the ground-swell was audible. suddenly atherton came to a halt, and held his lantern above his head. "anything wrong?" asked phillips. "it's all right here," he announced. "the air is quite fresh. i've found something: looks like a seat with some carving above it." on the right-hand side of the tunnel, in a cavity three feet in depth and extending the whole height of the passage, was a stone bench. above the latter were several carvings in relief, all more or less damaged by the ravages of time and the moisture of the rock. "here's a crucifix," said atherton, pointing to a cornish cross. "and there's some inscription underneath. i can't quite make out the letters, though." "i can read one word," said green. "the first letter is supposed to be a p. the word is 'pax.'" "and here's a date: mccli--that's ," announced atherton. "this must be a sort of half-way resting place for the monks who visited the oratory. if it's not half way it's at the lowest level of the tunnel, for the gradient is now on the ascent. but let's go on. i wonder where we shall find ourselves when we come to the end." "why, at the end, of course," replied everest. "where else did you expect?" the forward movement was resumed, atherton placing the previous distance between him and the next scout. at length the rocky walls began to show less signs of moisture, and the scouts knew that they had passed under seal bay and were now not far from, if not actually underneath, the village of polkerwyck. "hulloa, here's some steps," said atherton in a low voice. "come along, you fellows; before we go any farther we must search this place. it won't do to leave any unexplored places behind us. green and mayne, you come with me, the others can stand by. if i call for assistance, everest and baker can come to our aid. five of us ought to be a match for tassh, if he's hiding here." "do you think he is hiding here, atherton?" asked tenderfoot sayers in a whisper. "he may be. since he hasn't been found on the island he may be lying low in this place till the coast is clear. we'll soon find out. after me, green." holding the lantern in his left hand and well away from his body, atherton commenced the ascent of a spiral flight of steps. unlike those in many old ruins scattered about the country, these steps were in a good state of preservation, showing that during the flight of centuries they had been but comparatively little used. the leader ascended cautiously. at any moment he might be assailed by the fugitive from justice. the scouts were strangers to the place and therefore at a disadvantage; a trap might be laid for them, while in addition they were handicapped by having to carry a lantern which would render them conspicuous to anyone lurking in the darkness. yet, in spite of these drawbacks, atherton and his two companions had embarked upon an enterprise from which there was no turning back until the task of exploring the place was completed. at the twentieth step the leader discovered that he was level with the topmost part of the staircase. on all sides was a cavernous space that was almost all in darkness, save for that portion within the field of the rays of the lantern. "what's that?" whispered green, laying a detaining hand on atherton's wrist. "there's some one moving." "yes, i can hear footsteps," assented atherton, as the muffled sounds of a firm, steady tread came from the dark recesses of the vault-like room. "they are coming this way. stand by with your staff, green. i'll challenge him." in spite of his customary coolness, atherton felt his heart beating violently. "who's there?" he called. there was no reply. the noise of the footsteps continued as if the person walking was quite unconcerned at being called upon to explain who he was. "who's there?" repeated the scout, in a louder voice. there was silence for a few moments, then the sound of a person walking was resumed, only, instead of approaching, footsteps were obviously those of some one retiring. atherton waited no longer. gaining the floor, he raised the lantern above his head. the comparatively feeble rays gleamed upon a glittering object standing on the ground close to the wall of the underground room. resisting the temptation to pounce upon and examine the article, the scout waited till his companions rejoined him, and then began an examination of the place. it was circular and barely five yards in diameter. the roof was domed, the highest part being about ten feet from the floor. the walls, hewn from the solid rock, were smooth and uninterrupted by any visible openings communicating with elsewhere. to all appearances the scouts had struck a blind alley. having thus taken stock of their surroundings, the scouts discovered that the glittering object was a massive silver bowl, filled with forks and spoons of the same precious metal. "hidden treasure," gasped mayne. "not much," retorted green. "stolen from sir silas, that's what it is. you can see the stuff isn't tarnished, and there's no dust on it." "georgian silver," added atherton, examining the markings on the spoons and forks. "it must be some of that rascal tassh's plunder. we may find some more here. ha! what's that?" a rumble, momentarily growing louder, could be heard, the sound apparently coming from overhead. then, waning, it ceased to be audible. "a cart--that's what it is, and the sound we heard just before that was a man walking overhead. it's my belief that the place is immediately under the only street in polkerwyck," declared atherton. with their staves, the scouts sounded the walls, floor and ceiling. there was no trace of any secret openings. the walls were solid enough; only the distance between the dome and the open air was thin enough to enable the noise of the traffic to be heard with comparative distinctness. "all right up there?" called out phillips from the foot of the spiral staircase. "yes," replied atherton. "we'll be with you in a minute." "what shall we do with this lot?" asked green, indicating the silver. "it's jolly heavy." "we'll take it with us. we can put a few of the forks and spoons in our pockets and the bowl can be slung from a staff and carried by two of us. mind how you carry it, green." as soon as the three scouts returned to their waiting companions, the silver was distributed for the sake of easier carriage, and the march of exploration resumed. presently, instead of continuing the upward slope, the tunnel dived with considerable abruptness. at the bottom of the dip there was water on the floor to the depth of six inches, while from the signs of excessive moisture on the walls and ceiling it was fairly conclusive that the whole of this portion of the tunnel had recently been flooded. a slight stream of water was still running from a fissure in the wall. "this must be a proper trap in wet weather," said phillips. "the water lodges in the dip until it soaks out again. that accounts for the fact that tassh was unable to return to polkerwyck house on the night of the storm." "it certainly seems like it," said green, as he splashed boldly through the water. "doesn't it feel cold?" from this point the tunnel again sloped upwards, in places so steeply that the incline had to be broken by short flights of steps. "i reckon we've come quite two miles," said baker, "and in a fairly straight direction according to my compass. if i had known----" the remark was suddenly cut short by a low warning whistle from atherton. the rest of the patrol closed upon their leader, who had come to a standstill before a blank wall. right and left were short passages terminating in spiral flights of steps. once more atherton and his two chosen comrades began their subsidiary investigations, while the remaining members of the "otters" remained at the junction of the two cross-ways. it was not long before the leader returned. "no go," he announced. "there are only eleven stairs and then a bricked-up wall. by the undisturbed state of the dust on the steps we know that no one has been there for months at the very least. come on, all of you, we'll try our luck with this branch." round and round, up and up, went the scouts. they realised that they were on the eve of an important discovery, for here there were undoubted traces of human footsteps. at the fifty-fourth step, atherton found farther progress barred by a stone wall, each block being roughly fifteen inches wide and twelve high, and set in hard, black cement. the scouts looked at each other with feelings akin to dismay. it seemed hard lines, after traversing the whole length of the subterranean passage, to find a blank wall. "i'll tell you what, atherton," said green. "it's my opinion that tassh, or whoever it is, discovered the tunnel at the seal island end, and, like us, explored it as far as it went. he then had to retrace his footsteps, and that accounts for the complicated nature of the trail." "yes, that's all very well," replied atherton. "but how do you account for the finding of the silver stuff in the underground chamber?" "perhaps tassh meant to hide it there, or it was too heavy for him to carry any farther," suggested mayne, as he rested on the edge of a step his end of the staff from which the bowl was slung. as he did so the end of the pole touched the stonework at the side of the staircase. the slab of granite trembled visibly. "this part of the wall is quite loose," exclaimed mayne. "steady," whispered atherton, warningly. "keep quiet, you fellows." the leader felt the face of the granite slab. it was certainly loose, but the joints of the masonry were not wide enough for his fingers to obtain a grip. "hold my lantern a minute, phillips," he said. "i'll see what i can do with my knife. you have matches handy? good! now blow out all the lights." these orders were promptly carried out. the darkness was darkness indeed. to the excited lads it seemed to have weight. even phillips, strong-minded as he was, grasped his box of matches tightly, as if he derived some consolation from the fact that he held a weapon that could be used to effectually banish the stifling sensation imparted by the intense darkness. scratching lightly with the blade of his knife, atherton at length found the joint of the stonework once more. deftly inserting the blade, he cautiously prised the block of granite. it gave, then slid back in its position. "the stone is pivoted," he whispered. "where's your hand, mayne? put it here, and when i swing the stone out half an inch try and get a grip." the blade bent almost to breaking point. the stone swung outwards. mayne, gripping the rough edge, sought to retain a tenacious hold. "it's slipping," he gasped in low, tense tones. atherton instantly drove the blade home till the handle was tightly wedged in the enlarged orifice. then, relaxing his hold upon the knife, he aided mayne with his wiry fingers. the block swung stiffly outwards another inch, then with hardly any resistance it turned, disclosing an aperture sufficiently large for a man to crawl through. the sudden rush of daylight blinded the lads, but at length their eyes grew accustomed to the scene. they found themselves looking into the room in polkerwyck house that had been the rascally butler's quarters. it was not untenanted. seated in a canvas deck-chair, with his back turned to the secret opening, was a man. only the back portion of his head was visible above the top rail of the chair. "it's tassh," said atherton to himself. the question was how the scouts were to act. to crawl through the narrow opening one by one and throw themselves upon the culprit was a business that was not only fraught with danger but well-nigh impossible to perform without giving the man due warning. yet to atherton it seemed the only way. beckoning to phillips to follow him, the leader began to edge carefully through the gap in the stonework. could he but gain a footing in the room and await his second's entrance without alarming the occupant of the chair, there was a possibility that the rascal, taken by surprise, might be seized and secured. the scout was almost through. one foot was actually on the floor, when green accidentally knocked the staff to which the silver bowl was slung. with a crash and a clatter the heavy metal ornament went rolling down the spiral stairs, cannoning against the ankles of scott and sayers as it did so. in a trice the fellow in the chair was on his feet. "the game's up," he exclaimed. "come out of that or it will be the worse for you." chapter xvi trapped atherton stood stock still, his eyes fixed upon the small suggestive muzzle of a revolver levelled at his head. it was horribly disconcerting. he was unable to go forward; his movements were hampered. nor could he retreat with the possibilities of being shot at staring him in the face. the tension was acute whilst it lasted, but the scout was greatly relieved to hear the voice of polglaze, the detective, exclaim: "in the name of thunder what have you scouts been up to?" atherton hastened to complete the awkward crawl through the opening, the rest of his companions following. the detective, with wonderment written on every line of his face, examined the revolving stonework, patting it with his hands and testing the cunningly concealed mechanism. "well, this beats everything," he exclaimed. "i've been investigating this room for hours, tried the floor, walls and ceiling, and not a suspicion of a secret passage did i discover, yet, from a logical point of view, there must have been some means of escape other than by the door, which was locked. how on earth did you fellows find this out?" "we walked along a tunnel from seal island," explained atherton. "it leads to the ruins in the centre of the island. and we've found some of the booty, mr polglaze." "you have?" the detective's jaw dropped slightly. visions of a substantial reward slipping through his fingers accounted for his tone of disappointment. "where?" "in a side passage out of the main tunnel. there's a large silver bowl at the bottom of these steps, and each of us have smaller articles." one by one the scouts placed on the table the spoons and forks they had discovered. polglaze snatched one up and examined. "yes, that's part of sir silas' stuff," he announced. "is that all you've found?" "yes, sir," answered atherton. "with the bowl, of course." "then there's a heap more to be recovered," said the detective. "tell me about the tunnel." polglaze listened attentively and in silence to the scout's narrative. "you are quite sure you examined every part of the tunnel?" he asked, when atherton had finished. "there is no place where tassh might hide that you neglected to make sure of?" "i think not, sir." "good. i'll inform sir silas." the detective was certainly jealous of the scouts' success, but the news could not be withheld from the baronet. it also opened a fresh channel for the detective's energies. since the robber's retreat was discovered, the ends could be bricked up and no further attention paid to it. polglaze would be free to devote his skill to the tracking of the butler on seal island. great was the astonishment of sir silas to find that the dust-grimed members of the "otter" patrol had entered his house by a means hitherto unknown to him. "a remarkable thing, polglaze," he observed. "now i come to think of it there is a legend to the effect that polkerwyck monastery was connected with the oratory on seal island by a subterranean passage. i regarded it as a myth. you get the same story wherever there are any old ruins. but what an elaborate piece of work, by jove!" sir silas had closed the revolving stone. when in position it seemed exactly like a portion of the solid wall, and opening in the old-fashioned chimney corner it was rendered still more unnoticeable by the soot that clung tenaciously to the grate. "you've closed it, sir," exclaimed atherton, unable to prevent the baronet's action. "we don't know how to open it from this side." "bless my soul, i am thoughtless!" ejaculated sir silas. "see what you can make of it, polglaze." the detective prised the stonework with his penknife, thrust his shoulder against the unresisting granite, and fumbled for possible springs, all to no purpose. the sliding door was to all appearances part and parcel of the wall. "now, atherton, you have a shot at it," suggested sir silas. the scout did his best, but without result. he was completely baffled. "and there's a large silver bowl down there, sir," he remarked, "and all our lanterns too. i'll tell you what, sir: we must get back to the island as quickly as possible, or our scoutmaster will be anxious. we'll let him know we're all right, and then some of us will go through the tunnel again and open the slide from the inside. i think i know how to do that." "'in the name of thunder, what have you scouts been up to?'"--_page_ . "very good," assented sir silas. "only i hope you won't overtire yourselves. polglaze, i wish you to remain here till atherton returns. as a temporary measure i mean to have the tunnel sealed up at both ends before to-night. later on, when we have laid my rascally butler by the heels, the place can be thoroughly explored by competent antiquarians. i have no doubt but that it will prove of considerable interest to persons making a study of mediaeval architecture." atherton gave the half-salute and retired with his fellow scouts. once clear of the house, they broke into a scout's pace, and soon covered the distance between them and polkerwyck village. outside the post-office they were stopped by farmer trebarwith, who was bubbling over with excitement. "heard the news, young gentlemen? they du say that tassh has been seen in bodmin, and that he has taken the train to lunnon with a girt box--full o' stolen silver i du say. we'm expecting news that he's been apprehended as soon as he gets to his journey's end." atherton thanked the farmer for his information, and, excusing himself, hastened his patrol into one of peter varco's boats, that the old fisherman obligingly lent them. "i was beginning to wonder what had happened to you," said mr buckley. "in fact, i was on the point of taking two of the 'wolves' with me and following up your trail. they say that tassh has been traced to london, eh? well, i hope it's true, for we shall be able to carry out our camp routine, which from all accounts has been subjected to interruptions of various sorts from the first day you arrived. all right, atherton, you can go through the tunnel again. three of you will be enough, i think. get back as soon as you can." the second trip through the subterranean passage was performed with alacrity, and without incident atherton and his companions succeeded in reaching the far end. "give a push with the end of your staff, green," he said, pointing to a well-defined mark on the stonework where the mechanism had previously been actuated. green pushed his pole, at first gently, then harder. it was all to no purpose. the sliding stone seemed as immovable as it had done on the other side. "that's strange," commented the leader. "bring the other lantern here and let's see if we can find anything." for a quarter of an hour or more atherton prodded the stone and groped for a concealed spring. "we're done again, i'm afraid," he remarked. "we must retrace our steps. blow one of the candles out, mayne. we've none too much left. i didn't reckon on this." "it won't do to be stranded in this hole without a light," agreed mayne. "what about the lanterns we left behind us?" atherton picked up the two candle-lamps. in one there was less than a quarter of an inch. in the other there was hardly as much, and what made matters worse, the scouts who took spare candles had not handed them over to their comrades when the latter set out on their second journey through the tunnel. "back as fast as we can," ordered atherton. "don't wait to bring that bowl with us. it will be quite safe here." lighted by the glimmer of the solitary candle, the scouts hastened on their homeward way. presently green called out: "i say, atherton. what's that noise?" a dull swishing sound came faintly to the ears of the listeners. "it's like a tap running," remarked mayne. "water running into a bath, for example." "foot it as fast as you can," exclaimed atherton. "it may be all right, but i fancy the water is pouring into the hollow we noticed just this side of the place we found the silver bowl." the three lads broke into a run, guided by the flickering light of the lantern. louder and louder grew the sound of the inrush of water. "steady," gasped atherton, as his feet came in contact with the water. "wade through it." he was hoping against hope. his practical eye had already noted that the water extended far beyond the limits of the little puddle they had encountered in the lowest level of the dip. this meant that there might be five feet or more of water in the tunnel, or there might be sufficient space between the surface and the top of the vaulting to enable the lads to proceed. "what's happened, i wonder?" asked green, who, like the other, was knee-deep in water. "don't worry: keep on," enjoined the leader. "there's no current, luckily, but let's hang on to one another in case there's a pitfall. keep the spare pieces of candle dry, mayne, whatever you do. i've put the matches in my hat." waist deep now. the rate of progress was visibly retarded by the resistance of the water. peering ahead, atherton could see that at less than twenty yards from where he stood the roof of the tunnel met and dipped below the surface of the newly formed lake. the scouts were trapped. "no go, lads," announced atherton, in a cheerful tone. "we must get back to the higher level. it must be raining pretty heavily, and the water soaks through." "a jolly good soak, i should say," added green. "what do you propose doing now, atherton?" "exercise patience, and have another shot at that revolving stone. it's merely a question of time and an element of luck. besides, when the water begins to subside it will do so pretty rapidly, i expect." "why?" asked green. "i don't know why, unless the floor of the tunnel is very porous. don't you remember that within twenty hours of the time that tassh was unable to leave seal island he was back again by means of this passage?" "that's so," agreed green, stooping to wring the moisture out of his shorts. "how's the candle going, atherton?" "it will last us a bit," replied the leader; but he knew that in less than an hour at the outside their whole supply of candle ends would be consumed. "let's shout altogether," suggested mayne, after they had returned to the top of the spiral staircase and had made another unsuccessful attempt to discover the secret of the mechanism of the revolving stone. the scouts gave a united yell. the echoes rang in their ears, but no answering sound came from the other side of the baffling granite wall. "look here, you fellows," said atherton, "it's no use our waiting here on the off chance of some one opening the door or whatever you call it, from the inside. one of us ought to stand by and watch for the water to subside. who's game?" "it will mean that one of us will have to be in the dark," observed mayne gloomily. "i'm not frightened of the dark, of course, but it's pretty miserable sticking about by yourself in a pitch-black hole." "that's so," agreed green. "i vote we all keep together." "that won't do for me, lads," said atherton. "i'll go. you keep what's left of the candle. when i find the level is sinking i'll shout and let you know. this tunnel is like a giant voice-tube: you'll hear me plainly enough." "oh, i'll go if you want," said mayne, somewhat shamefacedly. "or i will," added green. "you'll jolly well stop here. take half of these matches. keep on trying, and perhaps you'll find the secret of the opening after all." so saying, atherton felt his way down the steps, and began his solitary progress along the tunnel. on and on he went, feeling the rough wall with his hand and methodically counting the number of paces he took. at the five hundred and twentieth step his foot splashed into the water. the scout halted, struck a match and examined the rock close to the surface of the pool. it was fairly dry. "that means the water is still rising," thought the leader. "i'll draw a line in the dust, and look again in five minutes' time, just to make sure." taking a piece of twine from his pocket, atherton measured off as near as he could guess a length slightly exceeding a yard. to one end he attached his knife. holding the other end in his hand, the scout allowed the weighted string to swing. "a pendulum thirty-nine inches in length swings one every second," he said to himself. "this ought to be near enough for my purpose." he waited till the knife had swung three hundred times--it seemed more like an hour than five minutes,--then, striking another match, he examined the mark he had made on the ground. it was already on the point of being covered. the water was still rising. "cheerful," he remarked. "after all, there is no danger, it's only the discomfort, and all true scouts make light of trivial matters like this. it's another all-night business: that's my opinion." "atherton!" shouted green, his voice rumbling down the tube-like passage. "hulloa?" "our light's gone out. is the water falling?" atherton struck a match. "i'm sorry to say it isn't," he shouted in reply. "then it's no use waiting there. come back to us. it's mighty cold and we're precious hungry." "i can't feed you, green, and if you're cold jump about a bit and flap your arms. i'll be with you soon." after giving this advice, atherton began to walk along the now familiar tunnel. ere he had covered a hundred paces he was surprised by the sound of a sharp detonation, followed by shouts of alarm on the part of his two comrades. "what's up?" hailed atherton. the shouting still continued, but the anxious scout could make neither head nor tail of what was being said. presently a strong current of air, followed by the pungent fumes of powder, drifted down the tunnel. gasping, atherton tied his scarf over his mouth, and dashed as hard as he could through the inky darkness, keeping his left hand on the wall to guide him. stumbling over the silver bowl at the foot of the stairs was the first intimation he received of the fact that he had reached the end of the passage. then, as he mounted the spiral stairs, to his utter relief he heard mr buckley's voice calling him by name. removing his scarf, atherton gave a reassuring answer. "thank heaven, you're safe!" replied the scoutmaster, as atherton emerged through an irregularly shaped hole that took the place of the narrow opening into the butler's room. "and mayne and green?" "they're all right, only a bit shaken up." in the room, in addition to mr buckley, were sir silas gwinnear, polglaze the detective, and a gentleman whom atherton had not seen before, and who was a mining engineer for one of the neighbouring "wheals" or mines, and three workmen. "we knew something was amiss," explained the scoutmaster. "soon after you descended the tunnel for the second time it came on to pour with rain. phillips suggested to me the danger of one portion of the passage being filled with water, and he and i going down found this to be the case, and that your retreat was cut off, unless you succeeded in turning the revolving stone. "thinking that there was a chance of your not being able to do so, phillips and i made our way across the mainland, and on to polkerwyck house. "we found the secret opening still remained fast closed. we hammered at it, tried crowbars, and did everything to attract your attention. green tells me you never heard a sound." "we made as much row as we could, sir," said atherton. "the walls must be practically soundproof." "i should say they are not soundproof now," continued mr buckley. "on sir silas's advice we sent to polkarnis mine for some men accustomed to the use of explosives, and this gentleman--mr copperas, the electrical works' manager--kindly came over to give his technical assistance." "yes, it's a wonder we didn't do more harm," added mr copperas. "since we heard no sounds from within we naturally concluded that the three of you were farther along the tunnel. however, all's well that ends well, and your two chums have been through an experience i never wish to meet with: standing within a few feet of five pounds of gun-cotton when it exploded." "now, atherton, we must be making a move," declared the scoutmaster. "it will soon be dark, and you've had a couple of very trying days." "how about the silver bowl, sir?" said the scout, who had already noticed the signs of preparations of bricking up the gap. "i'll get it if you like." "don't worry about that, atherton," interposed sir silas. "get a good night's rest. you can have a bed here if you wish." "no, thank you, sir," replied atherton. "i think i shall sleep pretty soundly in camp." "as you like," said the baronet. "i'll see that the bowl is brought out. mr copperas and i have a wish to have a look at this remarkable tunnel before it is actually sealed." "any further news of tassh, sir?" asked atherton, as, accompanied by the five "otters," the scoutmaster started at a brisk walk towards polkerwyck. "nothing, save that the police hope to effect his arrest in london. as far as we are concerned i think the scouts have finished with the business. it will give us a chance to settle down to a less strenuous holiday." chapter xvii the mysterious yacht until over the following sunday the scouts of seal island "stood easy." the usual routine was maintained, but operations necessitating arduous work were temporarily dispensed with. the lads were all more or less done up. want of sleep, exposure to the rain, and a surfeit of excitement tried them to a very great extent; but, thanks to their physical training, they were soon little the worse for the experiences they had undergone. even coventry minor's case showed good signs of improvement. he was still unable to leave the doctor's house, but there was every chance of his being fit to take part in the camp before the end of a fortnight. early on tuesday morning, the two patrols started on a boating excursion. the "otters," with the scoutmaster, took varco's largest boat, while the "wolves" embarked in a craft only slightly smaller. both boats were provided with masts and sails, the area of the latter being comparatively small, so that there was little chance of a catastrophe occurring. mr buckley was a skilled and keen boat-sailer, while simpson and fraser of the "wolves" knew enough about the management of a small craft under sail to be entrusted with the care of the one in which their patrol embarked. after the gale, which had finished with the torrential rain that had caused the flooding of the subterranean passage, the weather set in fair, with a very high temperature. the scouts unanimously voted that it was simply ripping weather for camping, and the discomforts of the gale were now almost forgotten. it was the intention of the scouts to circumnavigate seal island. a better day could not have been chosen. there was hardly any wind: what there was was off shore, while--a somewhat unusual circumstance--the ground-swell was absent. past the now familiar dollar cove the lads rowed, pausing every now and then to admire the fantastic outlines of the rugged cliffs. "mackerel in the bay," announced mr buckley, pointing to a shimmering light on the surface of the water, about half way across to beware head. "i wish we had some rag worm for bait," said jim sayers. "there are two lines in the boat, but without bait they might just as well not be there." "don't say that," rejoined the scoutmaster, laughing. "let me have a look at the lines. ah! they're properly hooked. sayers, i see an old tin can under the bow thwart. give it a rub on the leather of your oar and pass it to me." the tenderfoot did as mr buckley suggested. with a pair of pocket scissors the scoutmaster cut three spoon-shaped pieces from the now glittering tin, curved them with his fingers and attached the metal to the line just in front of the three-barbed hooks. "well i never!" ejaculated sayers. "to think that fish make a meal out of a chunk of tin." the lines were paid out, the metal discs jumping erratically under the resistance of the water. three minutes later, sayers felt a sharp tug on his line. "a fish!" he exclaimed excitedly. "haul it slowly and carefully or you'll lose it," cautioned mr buckley. "yes, sayers, you've hooked a beauty." wildly struggling, a fair-sized mackerel was landed into the boat, its gills impaled by two barbed hooks. after that the sport was fast and furious, and before the boats were abreast of beware head eleven fish were lying on the bottom boards of the "otters'" boat, and nine fell to the lot of the "wolves." "there's a cutter close inshore," observed phillips, as the boats rounded north head. "she's too close in for safety," added mayne. "she can't be very far from the reef where the tramp steamer struck." "she's anchored," declared atherton. "i can see the cable. she's a good distance this side of the reef, nearly opposite the tea caves, i should imagine." "we'll pull close to her and see if anything's wrong. perhaps they've missed the tide, and have anchored close inshore till slack water," said mr buckley. "give way 'wolves'; we'll race you." the "wolves" did give way with a will, and being in a lighter and fairly narrow-beamed boat they outstripped their friendly rivals. "that will do," ordered the scoutmaster. "take it easy now." the cutter was a yacht of about ten tons. since she had no name on her counter, mr buckley came to the conclusion that she belonged to a recognised yacht club in spite of the fact that she flew no burgee. she was moored with two anchors and cables--an unnecessary business unless she was to stay over one tide. a dinghy was made fast astern, and this was the only intimation the scouts had that there was some one on board the yacht, for her deck was deserted. "yacht ahoy!" hailed the scoutmaster. two disreputable-looking men clad in blue jerseys and dirty canvas trousers emerged hurriedly from the cabin. "wot d'ye want, capting?" asked the taller of the two, with an insolent ring in his voice. "we thought you were brought up too close inshore," said the scoutmaster. "perhaps you're strangers to this part of the coast?" "i'll chaunce me arm over that, old mate," was the reply. "we're bloomin' well all right, cocky. when the tide serves we'll sweep the blinkin' boat rahnd to padstow if there's no bloomin' wind." "give way, lads," ordered the scoutmaster. not a word more was spoken till both boats had put an intervening headland between them and the cutter and her surly crew. "they're a churlish set," remarked mr buckley. "i wonder what their little game is, bringing up so close to the tea caves?" "do you know, sir, i believe--although i am not quite sure--that the shorter man is one of the fellows who threw sir silas over hungerford bridge." "eh?" exclaimed mr buckley, incredulously. "i think so, sir. and another thing i noticed: those fellows said they would sweep the yacht to padstow if there were no wind." "that's so," agreed the scoutmaster. "then why would they want to row her when there's a motor on board, sir?" "a motor--how do you know, atherton?" "i noticed the propeller under the water, sir." "you did? i missed that, then. i was directing my attention to the stern to see if a name had been painted out. it is quite possible, since the yacht is a fairly decent one, that those two fellows have stolen it. such acts are not uncommon. that also might be an explanation for their statement that they intended to use their sweeps. they might be ignorant of how to run a motor." "looks fishy, sir," remarked phillips. "do you think, since they are close to the mouth of the tea caves, that they have anything to do with paul tassh?" "the possibility is somewhat remote. tassh is, according to all accounts, hiding in london." "with the bulk of the booty, sir?" "well, since you suggest it, there might be something in the wind between those two surly fellows and paul tassh," admitted mr buckley. "i thought we had finished with the business. however, i'll call for volunteers to patrol the cliffs above the tea caves tonight if the yacht hasn't cleared off in the meantime." with that the voyage was resumed. at the blowing holes the scouts landed, in order to investigate this natural curiosity; but, owing to an absence of wind and no sea running, the "performance was off," as neale expressed it. the lads thoroughly enjoyed a scamper over the remarkably shaped rocks, which were only accessible from the sea; and here a substantial lunch was partaken. "i wonder what would happen if we stopped up the blowing hole?" asked reggie scott of his churn sayers, pointing to an orifice in the rock about three inches in diameter, which was worn perfectly smooth by the violent up-burst of water. "i reckon it would go off like a pop-gun the first time the waves broke under it," replied sayers. "but what's the use? we shan't be here to see what happens." "i'll fill it up, just for fun," said scott. "let's see how deep it is first." lying at full length on the flat-topped rock, the tenderfoot bared his arm and thrust it down. "i can't reach anything like far enough, sayers," he began. "it will take a lot of filling up----" his remarks were rudely interrupted by a sudden rush of compressed air. before scott could throw himself clear of the blow-hole he was drenched to the skin by a torrent of water forced through the circular hole in the rock. sayers yelled with delight, but his mirth was brought to an abrupt termination by a regular waterspout from another blow-hole close to where he was standing. slipping on the weed-covered rock, he subsided on his back, and while in this ignominious position he was completely enveloped in the falling spray. at the first sign of the spout atherton, simpson, phillips, and coventry made a hurried dash for the boats. they were only just in time to prevent them from being dashed broadside on to the beach as three rollers in quick succession hurled themselves up the rocks. "it must have been the swell of a steamer," declared simpson, after the sea had resumed its placid condition. "steamer? i saw none within a mile or so of shore," remarked phillips, "and the last one quite a quarter of an hour ago." "that, no doubt, was the one that caused the three rollers," remarked mr buckley, who had overheard the scouts. "the swell of a large steamer, travelling at a fair speed, will be felt five miles off, and at a considerable time after the ship has passed abreast of that part of the shore on which the waves break. but come along, lads, we've seen the blowing holes at work, and some of you have wet shirts in consequence." into their boats the scouts jumped, and once more the coasting trip was resumed. without further incident the lads landed at the cove, hauled the boats up the slope, and returned to camp for dinner. chapter xviii hot on the trail the more atherton thought about one of the crew of the mysterious yacht the more he became convinced that the fellow was sir silas gwinnear's assailant. after dinner, seizing a favourable opportunity, the lad approached his scoutmaster on the subject. "you're falling a victim to the powers of suggestion, i'm afraid, atherton," remarked mr buckley. "when you first mentioned the matter to me you said you _thought_ he was the man. now, after ruminating, you come to the conclusion that he _must_ be the culprit. such definite conclusions based upon flimsy suppositions are dangerous. over and over again one reads of cases of persons being wrongly arrested owing to definite yet mistaken zeal on the part of an impressionable constable. now, for example, what do you suggest would be the best course to adopt? inform the police?" "yes, sir; my idea is that he should not be allowed to slip through our fingers, so to speak." "and if the fellow gives a perfectly corroborated statement, and claims damages for illegal arrest, where would the funds of the troop go, eh? no, no, atherton, we must get to work more cautiously. i am quite in agreement with you that the action of these two men on the yacht is suspicious, and that they ought to be kept under observation. all the same, i do not like the idea of so much night work. before i took over for mr trematon, you had more than one restless night." "if it has to be done, sir, it must be," replied atherton earnestly. "the other fellows are of the same mind." "very well, so long as the yacht remains of the island we will keep her under observation. i'll send simpson and the 'wolves' out till sunset, and then the 'otters' can carry on till morning. only, mind you, it is to be distinctly understood that your patrol must rest this afternoon and also to-morrow morning. seven hours' sleep in every twenty-four is essential." "very good, sir," said atherton. "and," continued mr buckley, "i mean to take the night watch with you. we must find a likely spot whence we can command the approach to the tea caves as well as the yacht. now tell the 'otters' to turn in. no talking, mind. i'll see that simpson has his instructions, and then i'll have a nap myself." two hundred yards to the south-west of the tea caves a rocky headland afforded all the shelter the scouts required. the place seemed as if it had been a titan's playground, for huge flat boulders, some weighing more than twenty tons, had been piled up in picturesque and even grotesque formations. on one group of rocks the scouts had bestowed the name of "the mushrooms," and the designation was not inapplicable. three separate columns, composed of discshaped rocks twelve feet in diameter, rose to the height of twelve feet above the general ground level. on the summit of these were still broader rocks with slightly rounded upper surfaces, their edges overlapping the bases by three to five feet, and two of the top rocks touched each other; the third was separated from the other by a space of less than a foot. on the lee--side of "the mushrooms" there was sufficient shelter for the four scouts of the "wolves," for hayes and tenderfoot basil armstrong were left behind in camp while the "otters" were resting in their tent. the yacht still remained close inshore, in the same position as when the scouts had first sighted her. the tide had long since changed, but the crew had made no attempt to shift her, either by means of the motor or sweeps. throughout the rest of the afternoon the "wolves" kept on the watch. the shadows lengthened as the sun sank down in the west; but the two men on board gave no signs of their presence. "anything wrong?" asked atherton, as the "otters" came to the relief of their comrades, sayers and scott being left in camp to perform a like duty to the one hayes and armstrong had been detailed to do. "not a sign," replied simpson. "just our luck. i suppose they'll do something as soon as it gets dark, and we'll be out of it." "may not," rejoined atherton. "anyway, if anything exciting does occur we'll rouse you up right enough." with that the "wolves" reluctantly betook themselves off, and the "otters" carried on the task of watching the mysterious yacht. the scouts knew their work well. even in the gathering twilight they refrained from showing themselves against the skyline. each lad, with a cluster of gorse in his hat to still lessen the risk of detection, kept well behind cover. night fell. there was no moon, but the stars gave sufficient light to distinguish the outlines of the coast and the grimly silent yacht, that, two hundred feet below, rocked gently on the bosom of the ocean. "it's eleven o'clock and slack tide," said phillips to his leader. "what do you say to this: suppose we get the others to lower us down the cliffs by the tea caves? it's hardly any distance." "what then?" asked atherton. "well, there being no tide, we could easily swim off to that yacht. it would be worth doing to find out what those fellows are doing on board." "i'm game," agreed atherton. "but we'll have to mention it to mr buckley." "do you think he'll let us go?" asked phillips, anxiously. "if he won't there's an end to it," rejoined atherton, sturdily. "so here goes, i'll ask." "a hundred yards from the shore at least," observed the scoutmaster, when atherton made the proposal. "are you quite sure you can do the distance there and back?" "both phillips and i hold half-mile certificates, sir," said the leader. "if the other fellows will lower us on to the ledge leading to the caves, it will be a fairly simple matter to swarm down the rope to the base of the cliff." "very well, then," assented the scoutmaster. "but, whatever you do, exercise the greatest caution. everest and baker can remain here, the rest of the available 'otters' can support you." "thank you, sir," replied atherton, saluting, and without further delay the work of preparation began. green and mayne were to remain on the top of the cliff above the ledge leading to the tea caves, the scoutmaster was to descend to the ledge, make sure that there was no one lurking at the entrance to the caverns, and to assist the two swimmers during their descent and ascent to and from the sea. noiselessly the little party gained the spot, almost opposite the anchored yacht. no signs of life were visible from the unlighted craft. her outlines could only just be discerned against the dark surface of the water. it did not take the scouts long to discover the holes into which the staves and crowbars had been driven on the first occasion of their first exploration of the tea caves. the tufts of earth that had been placed in them to hide the traces of the scouts' operations were removed and two stout iron bars deftly inserted. giving a final glance round, mr buckley made one end of the rope fast round his body. "lower away, lads," he exclaimed. "i'm not a heavy weight, and when one has a groggy arm it puts a stopper on hand-over-hand work." as soon as mr buckley reached the ledge, atherton and phillips swarmed down. they were now only twenty feet above the sea, and at that particular spot the irregular shape of the cliffs permitted a fairly easy descent. "we'll go with you, sir, as far as the caves," whispered the leader, but the scoutmaster demurred. "one can go where three cannot sometimes," he replied. "if there's any bother i'll whistle for you. i think i can well hold my own till then." in five minutes mr buckley returned. "it's all clear, i think," he remarked in an undertone. "the dust seems undisturbed and there's been no wind to level it. i've covered my tracks very carefully in case of accidents." quickly undressing, atherton, with a rope tied round his waist, in case he slipped, made his way down to the water's edge. casting off the rope, he waited till phillips joined him, and as noiselessly as the little creatures from which the patrol took its name, the two scouts slipped into the water. not a word was spoken as the lads swam with steady strokes towards the yacht the sea was quite warm, warmer in fact than the air. both scouts knew how to swim with the least exertion and without making a splash. they did not hurry, realising that haste in swimming means loss of strength; so, keeping side by side, they made light work of their outward journey. the mysterious yacht was now riding lightly to her anchor. there was little or no tide; and her cable was, in nautical parlance, "straight up and down." by a fortunate chance, owing no doubt to the slovenliness of her crew rather than to their lack of seamanship, the yacht's bobstay was still hove taut, and this afforded a fine foothold for the two lads. atherton could just manage to grasp the bowsprit. raising his legs, he threw his heels over the low bulwark and contrived to draw himself on deck. he waited, every sense keenly on the alert. all was quiet, save for a muffled conversation in the cabin. assisting phillips on board, the elder lad led the way aft. their bare feet made no sound upon the dew-sodden decks; and, cautiously picking their way over coils of ropes and avoiding formidable-looking cleats that would, in the event of hitting them, cause painful results, the two scouts came to the closed companion hatch communicating to the main cabin. through a chink in the teak door, atherton saw that a light was burning. the scuttles had been covered with a thick material in order to screen the light within. it was a remarkable sight that met the scout's gaze. on the swinging table was a quantity of silver plate. sitting on one bunk was one of the crew, who was apprehensively regarding his companion. of the latter atherton now had no doubts. he was the same red-necked fellow who had been one of the assailants of sir silas gwinnear. there was no mistaking the closely cropped iron-grey hair, the rounded though massive shoulders and back, the long legs and all the other characteristics the scout had so carefully noticed. in his hands he held a sporting rifle, which was pointed in the direction of his companion. "ere, chuck it, bill. turn that blessed thing away," remonstrated the seated man. "'tain't loaded, yer blinkin' juggins." "that's wot yer says, bill." "'struth: don't yer know as well as i does that there ain't a blinkin' cartridge aboard. all the same it'll come in 'andy-like to frighten them nippers if they comes a' nosin' abaht 'ere agen." "they won't. i'll chaunce me arm on that, bill." "'ow d'ye know that? ain't they properly kippered that old fool tassh, till 'e ain't got no mind to call 'is own? if it weren't for them blessed scouts we'd a' hid all the blessed swag aboard afore now. tassh won't budge till nigh on one in the mornin', as yer bloomin' well knows, the white-livered swob." "'e was late last night. arter three afore 'e gived the signal." "ef 'e's blinkin' well late to-night we'll go ashore and rout 'im out of 'is blessed cave." "not this 'ere child, bill. i ain't got no likin' to wormin' me way through that 'ole between the two caves. i'll wait in the outer one if yer likes." "you'll blessed well do as i tells yer," retorted the latter man, laying the gun down on the bunk. "onderstand that. well, 'ere goes. i'll 'ave a look on deck, and see if anything's stirrin'. douse that glim for a minnit, while i opens the 'atch." atherton touched his companion's shoulder. both lads rose to their feet and began to make their way for'ard, phillips treading on one side of the deck and atherton on the other, so as to prevent the craft from heeling. even the faintest heel would be noticeable to the two men below, and their suspicions would be instantly aroused. phillips lowered himself noiselessly over the bows, but before atherton could clamber over the windlass that occupied a portion of the foredeck, the noise of the hatch being slid back told him that bill was in the act of coming on deck. there was no time to be lost. atherton hurried to rejoin his comrade, but his haste led to his undoing. his bare feet slipped on the wet planks, and the next instant he was sprawling at full length upon the deck. "throughout the rest of the afternoon the wolves kept on the watch."--_page_ . chapter xix the first capture atherton's first impulse was to regain his feet and jump overboard. by so doing he knew that he would run no personal risks, since bill and his companion in crime could not possibly capture him, even if they went to the length of leaping into the sea dressed as they were, in their clothes and sea-boots. but, on the other hand, the scout realised that, if discovered, the confederates of the rascally butler would make haste and clear off in the yacht, and the whole chance of capturing both the rogues and their booty would receive a serious set back. with these thoughts flashing through his mind, atherton pulled several folds of the staysail over his recumbent form, as, fortunately for him, the slothful crew had lowered the sail and had neglected to stow or even secure it. his chief anxiety was that phillips, finding that his companion had not followed him, would climb on board again, or, equally as bad, raise a premature alarm. second phillips was made of the right stuff. since atherton had not called for aid he felt convinced that his leader was still keeping bill under observation. holding on to the bob-stay, and keeping close to the bows of the yacht, phillips waited, chin deep in water, either till the expected shout for assistance came or else till atherton got clear of the mysterious craft. with many muttered curses the truculent bill ascended the short companion-ladder and gained the deck. pulling back the hatch he remained by the companion, his gaze directed towards the frowning cliffs by the tea caves. "two more cursed hours!" muttered the man, loudly enough for the scout to overhear. "wot's 'e got to be afraid of i should like to know. well, any'ow, to-night'll see the last o' the swag safe aboard." atherton felt a quiver of excitement pass through his frame. if the silver were to be recovered the opportunity was at hand. there was little time to be lost. to send for the assistance of the local police and the coastguards might result in the scoundrels "getting the wind of it." it must be the scouts to whom the credit of recovering sir silas gwinnear's plate must fall. the seaman was coming for'ard. from his place of concealment, atherton could hear his heavy footfall upon the yielding deck. would it be possible that the fellow had any suspicions that some one in addition to his mate was on board? in any case the scout realised that he must evade capture. nearer and nearer came the man. atherton prepared to spring from his hiding-place arid leap into the sea, but to his great relief bill turned on his heel and retraced his footsteps. "he's going to pace the deck for the next hour or so, i suppose," thought atherton. "a nice pickle we are in: phillips shivering in the water and i doing ditto under a damp sail." but atherton was wrong in his surmise. the fellow took two or three turns up and down the deck, gave another glance shorewards and then whispered to his companion to "douse the glim again." with the utmost satisfaction atherton heard the seaman push back the hatch. his heavy sea-boots grated on the brass stair-treads; and then, with a vicious bang, the hatch was shut once more. rising from his place of concealment, atherton lowered himself into the water, and the two lads began their shoreward swim; at first in silence, and then, as soon as a safe distance had been covered, they conversed in low tones. "we're in luck, atherton." "yes, if things turn out all right. i wonder what mr buckley will suggest?" "no doubt he will order the boats to be manned, and we'll have to try our chances with bill and his pal. it's fortunate we know his gun isn't loaded. here, phillips, are we heading the right way? i don't see the place where we climbed down." "the tide must be setting in by now," replied phillips. "we're being swept away to the west'ard. i vote we swim straight for shore and then keep close to it until we come to the right spot. the tide won't run so strong inshore." "you lads have been a long time," remarked mr buckley, as the two scouts, tired with their exertions, scrambled on to the ledge where the scoutmaster had been anxiously awaiting their reappearance. "it's all right, sir," exclaimed atherton; "we've found out something": and as briefly and explicitly as he could the scout related what had occurred on board the yacht. "you're quite right, atherton," said mr buckley, when the leader had finished his report. "something must be done at once. it is now close on twelve o'clock. you're both dressed? good. shin up the rope, phillips; it will take three of you to haul me up, i am afraid." as soon as the scoutmaster and the two scouts had reached the summit of the cliff, a hasty palaver was held and a rough plan of action decided upon. green was despatched to the camp to turn out the "wolves," who were to double to the place where the scoutmaster awaited them. "that's good, simpson," said mr buckley, as the patrol turned up in fine fettle. "you left the tenderfoots in camp? hayes and coventry, take that flashing lamp and call up the coastguard at refuge point. tell them that there's a yacht lying off the tea caves, and that her crew are going to remove the stolen silver. the rest of us had better make tracks for the tea caves as soon as possible. since tassh is concealed in the inner one--that is what you heard, i believe, atherton?--we ought to nab him as he squeezes through the narrow passage between the two divisions. now, scouts, silence is essential as soon as we gain the ledge." one by one the "wolves" descended by means of the rope; then the scoutmaster was lowered by the "otters," who brought up the rear of the expedition. treading cautiously, the scouts crept in single file towards the rascally butler's lair. within the caves all was quiet. if tassh lay concealed in the innermost one he gave no sign of his presence. apparently he had learnt a certain amount of caution, for all tracks between the mouth of the cave and the narrow "needle's-eye" communicating with the two divisions were carefully obliterated. without a word being spoken the scouts took up their allotted positions: simpson and the st and nd class scouts of his patrol stationed themselves on either side of the entrance to the inner cave; atherton and the available "otters" hid in a deep recess just inside the outer entrance; while mr buckley remained without in order to keep the yacht under observation. slowly, in utter silence, the hours passed. although the scoutmaster could not see the time by his watch, he felt fairly convinced that it could not be much past midnight. to the waiting scouts the period of waiting seemed interminable. at length the scouts pricked up their ears. from the depths of the inner cave came an uncanny sound. as simpson afterwards described it, it was like the armoured body of an enormous crab grating over the rocks. this was followed by the deep breathing of a man who had been put to great physical strain. then came the stealthy footfalls of some one walking over the dry sand that formed the floor of the cave. simpson and the "wolves" were tingling with excitement. it was tassh. the rascally butler began to crawl through the "needle's eye." once or twice he paused, as if scenting danger; then, drawing himself clear, he regained his feet. it was as much as the "wolves" could do to restrain themselves from falling upon and overpowering their quarry, since the man stood almost within arm's length of simpson on the one hand and neale on the other. but to do this would be acting prematurely. unless otherwise compelled to tackle their man, the scouts were content to let him alone until he had lured bill and his companions ashore. so, crouching behind the huge boulders that had at some time fallen from the roof of the cave, the lads watched tassh stealthily make his way towards the entrance. "i wonder if he'll spot mr buckley," thought simpson. but the scoutmaster was too wary for that. he had clambered upon a narrow ledge seven feet above the main path, whence he could command a view of the cave and the sea as well as the misty starlight would permit. "oh, there you are, my fine fellow," muttered mr buckley, as tassh, looking anxiously along the main ledge that gave access to the caves, emerged into the open, utterly ignorant of the fact that seven of the "otters" were within ten yards of him and that a few inches above his head the scoutmaster had him under observation. still tassh hesitated. he even walked a few paces along the ledge, and scanned the rugged cliffs above his head. at length, drawing a portable electric lamp from his pocket, he flashed it twice in quick succession in the direction of the yacht. this signal was instantly replied to by the light of a match. the scoutmaster could see the gleam light up the features of the man bill. to guard against causing suspicion the fellow was pretending to light a pipe, twice closing his fingers over the flickering match in order to reassure the ex-butler that his message was understood. tassh waited no longer. he turned and literally sneaked back to his den, none of the scouts attempting to bar his passage. another ten minutes passed. there were no further signs of movement on the yacht. the scoutmaster began to wonder whether 'tassh's signal was intended to mean that he was suspicious about something, to defer the visit of bill and his companion in crime until another night. "i wish they'd hurry up," soliloquised mr buckley. "i shouldn't wonder if the coastguard boat doesn't turn up soon and nab them. it's a pity. i wish i had told hayes not to signal quite so soon. the scouts will only share the fruits of victory, i am afraid." just then came the sound of a splash in the water. the crew of the yacht had dragged a collapsible boat from the cabin and had launched it over the side. the scoutmaster waited till the boat was fairly close inshore, then, having made certain that only one man was on board, he silently slipped from his post of observation and rejoined atherton and the "otters" in the recess by the mouth of the cave. grasping atherton's hand the scoutmaster, by means of a series of long and short grips, spelled out a message in morse. "man coming: tackle him on entering cave." the leader signified that the message was understood, and passed it on to phillips, who in turn communicated it to green and mayne. before the remaining "otters" could be informed, the man from the yacht was heard scaling the cliff between the water's edge and the ledge. with a strange sensation in his throat, atherton braced himself for the onslaught. he could hear the partially suppressed breathing of his companions and the rapidly approaching steps of tassh's nocturnal visitor. the patch of starlit sky at the mouth of the cave was darkened by the hulking figure of bill. unhesitatingly the fellow advanced into the cave, then drawing an electric torch from his pocket he flashed it ahead to guide his footsteps. the beam of light fell, not upon the sanded floor, but upon the figure of the scoutmaster standing full in his path. with a muttered oath, bill threw down the canvas bag, hurled his lamp at mr buckley, and turned to seek safety in flight. up from their hiding-place the "otters" ran as one man and threw themselves upon the rogue. bill's fist shot out straight at atherton's chin, but luckily for the scout it was light enough for him to see to parry the blow. down went bill, struggling and raving like a madman, with his six youthful yet active assailants on to him like a pack of bulldogs. "chuck it," growled bill sullenly, as atherton applied an arm-lock. "chuck it orl you'll break my bloomin' arm. i gives in." securely bound hand and foot the prisoner was carried out into the open. the first phase of the capture of the robbers of sir silas gwinnear's silver was effected. "now, lads!" exclaimed mr buckley, "that's number one. 'wolves'! keep watch over the inner cave; we'll rout out mr tassh later on. everest and baker stand by the prisoner. the rest of the 'otters' follow me. we must board the yacht and capture the remaining member of the crew." chapter. xx a good night's work "give me a hand down here, atherton," exclaimed mr buckley. "we can't wait for a rope this time." without mishap the scouts and the scoutmaster descended the jagged cliff by the same path that the luckless bill had so lately ascended. hauled up on a shelving ledge and practically awash by the rising tide, was the canvas boat. it seemed a flimsy craft to hold five persons, but reassured by mr buckley's word the scouts embarked. there were but two oars, and these were short; the boat was deeply laden, and progress was, in consequence, slow. before they were thirty yards from the cliff the scouts heard the clanking of a windlass. the sole occupant of the yacht, alarmed at the commotion ashore, was weighing anchor. "he means to start the motor and leave his comrades to their fate," exclaimed mr buckley. "put your backs into it, lads." desperately the fellow worked the windlass, but unfortunately for him there was good scope of chain out. ere half of it was inboard, the canvas boat swept under the yacht's counter and ranged up alongside his starboard quarter. "surrender!" shouted the scoutmaster. the man's only reply was to drop the handle of the winch, snatch up the gun from the deck and present it full at mr buckley's head. "won't do, my man," exclaimed the scoutmaster affably. "we know there isn't a single cartridge on board." the rascal's jaw dropped with sheer amazement. "i'll bash in the skull of the first chap who tries to get on deck," he replied, swinging the butt end of the weapon above his head. "hands up instantly, or i'll fire!" ordered mr buckley, sternly. the pale light glinted on the bright barrel of a sinister-looking object he held extended in his right hand. somewhat to the scoutmaster's surprise the fellow immediately complied, holding his arms extended to their fullest extent above his head to show that there was no deception, while the gun clattered noisily upon the deck. in a trice atherton and phillips were once more upon the yacht. without further resistance the fellow allowed them to secure him. "take him below," ordered mr buckley. "phillips and mayne will look after him all right. come on, you others, if you want to be in at the capture of mr tassh." before pushing off, mr buckley called to phillips to come out of the cabin. "here's my revolver," he said, in a voice loud enough for the prisoner to overhear. "put it in your pocket, and don't hesitate to use it if the fellow gives trouble." and to the surprise and amazement of the scouts, the scoutmaster held up for inspection--not a dangerous weapon, but one of the brass rowlocks of the canvas boat. phillips rejoined his companion in the task of guarding the prisoner. they heard the sound of the oars growing fainter and fainter till all was quiet. "look 'ere, you chaps," said the prisoner, breaking the silence, "i ain't to blame for this 'ere business. 'swelp me, it was orl bill's doin'!" "the less you say about it the better," remarked phillips. "no 'tain't. i mean to turn king's evidence, so the sooner i get's it off me chest the better, says i. bill is that silly lubber tassh's brother-in-law, that's wot yer don't know, eh? well, bill 'ad 'is knife inter old gwinnear over the shippin' strike. i knows as 'ow bill 'ad a 'and in chuckin' the old josser inter the thames: that's gospel truth. an' then 'e cods old tassh inter sneakin' the silver. told 'im 'e 'd 'ave 'arf the proceeds, and bill and me 'ud share the rest, and tassh like a blinkin' fool believed 'im. 'tis like this----" "yacht ahoy!" came a peremptory hail from without. phillips dashed up the companion-ladder, and gained the deck to find a coastguard gig alongside. "hulloa, my lad!" exclaimed the petty officer in charge. "what's the game? having a joke with us, eh? some of you scouts signalled to us that some of the thieves were on board with the stolen silver." "one of them is," replied phillips. "you're a little too late. he is a prisoner; the other one is also captured. he's on shore, and if you hurry up you may have a look in when our fellows collar mr tassh." * * * * upon rejoining the "wolves" the elated "otters" found their comrades keeping watch in front of the "needle's-eye." until their scoutmaster's return simpson would not allow his patrol to enter the inner cave. nevertheless there was now no need for absolute silence, and the lads were able to converse and wile away the otherwise tedious vigil; nor was there any necessity to do without artificial light. "now, simpson," said mr buckley, "it's the 'wolves'' turn. you've plenty of candles?" "yes, sir." "carry on, then," said the scoutmaster, dropping into a phrase reminiscent of his former service in the royal navy. the leader of the "wolves" was not a fellow to rush headlong into danger. he knew that if tassh had the courage and determination he could hold the entrance to the inner cave with impunity. placing his hat on the end of a staff he thrust it through the narrow opening. nothing happened. "the fellow's missed his opportunity," said simpson to neale in a low tone. "so here goes." wriggling through the "needle's-eye," simpson gained the spacious vault. he waited, his staff held in readiness to defend himself from attack, until neale and jock fraser joined him. bill's electric torch now served a useful purpose, augmented by the light of several candles. the rest of the "wolves" were quickly on the scene, and in quite a blaze of light the scouts followed the trail which in his flight the rascally butler had made no attempt to conceal. "'hands up instantly or i'll fire!' ordered mr. buckley sternly."--_page_ . the tracks led straight to the place where atherton had previously found the burnt matches. but in place of the smooth sand there gaped a deep hole, from which the rays of a lantern were visible. "come out, tassh: the game's up," said simpson. the only reply was a hollow mocking laugh, so eerie that the lads scarce believed it came from a human being. then came the sound of metal being violently thrown about, to the accompaniment of disjointed and incoherent sentences that told their own tale. "the fellow's quite mad; he's amusing himself with smashing the silver," exclaimed fraser. "we must stop him." dropping lightly through the hole, the scout found himself in a small cave, about twenty feet in length and half that distance in breadth. two candle lanterns--one hanging from a hook driven into the roof and the other standing on the floor--gave sufficient light for fraser to see clearly what was going on. tassh, seated on the ground with his chin resting on his knee, was amusing himself by throwing the valuable silver cups against the farthermost wall, gibbering the while in maniacal delight. with a bound the scout stood over the luckless rascal and laid a detaining hand on his shoulder. the man merely smiled and held up a chased goblet as if he wished his captor to join in the game. "he's as mad as a hatter," said fraser to simpson and neale, who had promptly followed into the thief's lair. "we'll have a job to get him out of this." "come on, tassh," said simpson, quietly and firmly. "we've something to show you. come along." the ex-butler turned his head and looked at the scout in a dazed manner; then, with a suddenness that almost took simpson by surprise, the madman jumped to his feet and flung himself tooth and nail upon his captors. in the struggle the lantern on the floor was overset. the candle in the one hanging from the roof was almost burnt out. in semi-darkness, deep in the farthermost recesses of the cave, the three lads struggled with their prisoner, who seemed to possess the strength of a gorilla. twice simpson was hurled against the wall; fraser, partly dazed by a tremendous blow on the forehead, was hardly of use to his companions; while neale, his bare knees bleeding from the result of a series of vicious kicks, was banging grimly and desperately round the madman's waist. the situation was indeed serious. the scouts had bitten off more than they could chew, yet not one of them raised a shout for help. for the third time the leader of the "wolves" tackled the madman, but ere he could obtain a hold his feet slipped on the smooth rock. tassh's fingers closed on simpson's throat with a force that threatened to choke the scout into insensibility. simultaneously, by a back kick, the maniac sent neale staggering, and well-nigh breathless, upon the prostrate fraser. a multitude of lights flashed before simpson's eyes . . . then his opponent's grip suddenly relaxed, and atherton's voice was heard exclaiming: "it's all right, simpson. pull yourself together, man. i hope i haven't killed the fellow." atherton had arrived in the nick of time. something had prompted him to follow simpson's scanty patrol; he knew by the sounds from the rogue's lair that a desperate struggle was taking place. he leapt into the little cave and with his staff struck the violent madman a stunning blow, causing tassh to sink inertly to the ground. as soon as simpson and fraser had sufficiently recovered, steps were taken to get the insensible thief from his den. with a bowline round his waist, tassh was hauled out of the hole, carried across the inner cave and out into the open air. "we've found the rest of the silver, sir," announced simpson. "that's good business," replied mr buckley. "it's time we had a rest. put those lights out, green, it must be close on dawn. why, where is the yacht?" in the pale grey light, the sea showed an unbroken expanse of rippling water. the yacht with phillips and mayne had vanished. * * * * "i trust that rascal on board hasn't got the better of phillips and mayne," said mr buckley. "so do i, sir," added atherton. "he must be very smart to get the better of those two fellows." "criminals are usually smart," remarked green. "not necessarily," replied the scoutmaster. "they are frequently only clever in comparison with their dupes. but there is hayes standing on the cliff." hayes and coventry, having accomplished their task of signalling to the coastguard, had returned to their post of observation, and had dutifully remained there during the whole of the night, since the scoutmaster had given no further instructions as to what they were to do. "seen anything of the yacht?" shouted atherton. "yes," replied hayes, "the coastguards towed her away." "then phillips and mayne are all right," said the scoutmaster, thankfully. "now, lads, let's get our prisoners to the top of the cliff. the sooner we hand them over to the proper authorities the better." in very little time the police arrived from polkerwyck, and bill and the madman, tassh, were conveyed to the mainland. the scouts, after a well-earned meal, were one and all soon sound asleep, never waking till close upon five in the afternoon, when sir silas gwinnear crossed over to seal island to personally compliment the scouts on their success. "i am afraid, sir," said mr buckley, "we have been acting contrary to headquarter instructions. particular emphasis is laid upon the fact that no scouts' night operations should go on after eleven-thirty. i only hope that the exigencies of the case are sufficient excuse for turning day into night." "all the same, i do not know how to express my gratitude to the scouts," said sir silas. "that raises an awkward topic, mr buckley. you know that there is a reward out for the recovery of the silver?" "scouts, sir silas, do not accept rewards for services rendered: good turns, we call them." "so i previously learned," said the baronet, smiling at atherton. "all the same, if there is anything i can do . . . i suppose there is a limit of age for scouts, mr buckley?" "once a scout, always a scout, sir." "h'm. well, perhaps i may be able to have a bit of my own way in the matter of showing my practical gratitude, mr buckley. meanwhile, scouts, i hope for the rest of your stay in seal island you will be able to conform to regular habits and enjoy yourselves far more than you have up to the present." "we've had a rattling good time, sir," replied the "wolves" and the "otters" in a chorus that carried conviction. "i'm glad to hear it," returned sir silas. "and, believe me, you have made me envious of the scouts of seal island." * * * * little more remains to be said. the "otters" and the "wolves" prolonged their stay on seal island for three whole weeks beyond the fortnight originally intended, the extension being due to the fact that the scouts had to give evidence at bodmin assizes against the rascal known as bill. the fellow was proved to be one of the assailants of sir silas gwinnear on hungerford bridge; and not only was he found guilty of being concerned in the robbery of the baronet's silver, but an additional charge, that of stealing a yacht from avonmouth--the one the scouts captured with a quantity of the booty on board--was proved against him. his companion got off with six months' hard labour against bill's seven years' penal servitude. tassh, hopelessly insane, was taken to the county asylum. thus the rogues of this story are accounted for. collingwood college runs a larger, and equally efficient, troop than of yore. mr trematon, now second master of the school, is still in command; but we will look in vain for dick atherton, phillips, simpson, neale and others of the young heroes of seal island amongst the crowd of uniformed scouts. atherton is now fourth officer of the empire line--a steamship company largely under sir silas gwinnear's control. fred simpson is likewise in the merchant service, thanks to the cornish baronet's patronage. phillips, neale and fraser have accepted good appointments in canada, in connection with the wealthy firm of gwinnear ltd.; while every other original member of the "otters" and "wolves'" patrols has to thank sir silas for a good start in life. at all important headquarter functions, sir silas will generally be found. he is never tired of expressing his high appreciation of the movement, and seems to take a delight in relating the circumstances under which his opinion changed, and how he had reason to be proud of certain members of his firm--the former scouts of seal island. printed by morrison and gibs ltd., london and edinburgh delightful fairy books with illustrations in colour large crown to. each s. d. net.(by post, s. d.) the enchanted forest by ida rentoul outhwaite and grenbry outhwaite. containing full-page illustrations, of them in colour, also decorative title page, contents, endpapers, etc. "no youngster could be but thrilled by this delightful book. it is charmingly and prolifically illustrated."--_scotsman_. the little fairy sister by ida rentoul outhwaite and grenbry outhwaite. containing full-page illustrations, of them in colour, also decorative title page, contents, endpapers, etc. "there are many who think that since the days of grimm, hans andersen and our own lewis carrol, the art of writing a fairy story is dead; but these, once they have read 'the little fairy sister' . . . will find reason to alter their opinion in this respect." _daily graphic_. blossom by ida rentoul outhwaite. containing full-page illustrations, of them in colour, and several line illustrations in the text, all by the author. "a story full of grace and charm."--_birmingham post_. bunny and brownie the adventures of george and wiggle by ida rentoul outhwaite. with illustrations by the author, of them in colour. (_in preparation_.) the little green road to fairyland by ida rentoul outhwaite and annie r. rentoul. containing full-page illustrations, of them in colour, also decorative title page, contents, endpapers, etc. in artistic cover. square demy vo. price s. net (by post, s. d.). "it is an intriguing road, and the illustrations will enhance its value to those who read, while miss rentoul's fairy comes very near to the children because she can 'nearly cry' and has a heart to recognise human kindness."--_the times_. _published by_ a. & c. black, ltd., , & soho square, london, w. books on nature study life stories of animals a new and attractive edition of some life stories of animals, etc. printed on good paper, containing a frontispiece in colour, and with an attractive picture jacket. crown vo., cloth. each s. d. net (by post, s. d.). animals that work . . . . . by ascott r. hope. the black bear . . . . . . by h. perry-robinson. the cat . . . . . . . . . . by violet hunt. the dog . . . . . . . . . . by g.e. mitton. the fowl . . . . . . . . . by j.w. hurst. the fox . . . . . . . . . . by j.c. tregarthen. the horse . . . . . . . . . by george jennison, m.a., f.z.s. the lion . . . . . . . . . by agnes herbert. the moose . . . . . . . . . by agnes herbert. the rat . . . . . . . . . . by g.m.a. hewett. the squirrel . . . . . . . by t.c. bridges. the tiger . . . . . . . . . by lieut.-col. a.f. mockler-ferryman. the elephant . . . . . . . by g.e. mitton. (in preparation.) the animal's point of view, set down by a writer who really knows his subject, is always fresh and interesting, and this series of twelve books, each illustrated with clever pictures in colour by artists of repute, will make the world more interesting to many young folk. the zoo ("the artist's sketch-book" series). containing reproductions in facsimile from pencil drawings by a.w. peters. with artistic cover. demy vo. price s. net (by post, s. d.). frisky tales. true nature stories. by lady farren. containing frontispiece in colour and full-page illustrations from photographs. large square crown vo., cloth. price s. net (by post, s. d.). "skewbald," the new forest pony. by a.w. seaby. with head-pieces to chapters and a picture jacket in colour. large crown vo., cloth. price s. d. net (by post, s.). exmoor lass and other pony stories. by a.w. seaby. containing about illustrations from drawings by the author. small square demy vo., cloth. price s. net (by post, s. d.). beasts and birds. by c. von wyss. containing illustrations, of which are in colour. crown to. price s. net (by post, s. d.). _published by_ a. & c. black, ltd., , & soho square, london, w. the "peeps" series peeps at nature edited by the rev. charles a. hall, f.r.m.s. each containing illustrations in colour and black-and-white. large crown vo., cloth. each s. d. net (by post, s. d.). _each volume is written in simple terms, but scientific accuracy is_ _not sacrificed to popularity, and it is hoped that they will be the_ _means of winning their readers to detailed study and accurate_ _outdoor observations._ volumes ready bees, wasps, and ants. by the rev. charles a. hall, f.r.m.s. common british beetles. by the rev. charles a. hall, f.r.m.s. pond life. by the rev. charles a. hall, f.r.m.s. romance of the rocks. by the rev. charles a. hall, f.r.m.s. trees. by the rev. charles a. hall, f.r.m.s. wild flowers and their wonder- ful ways. by the rev. charles a. hall, f.r.m.s. british butterflies. by a. m. stewart. common british moths. by a. m. stewart. british land mammals. by a. nicol simpson, f.z.s. reptiles and amphibians. by a. nicol simpson, f.z.s. bird life of the seasons. by w. percival westell, f.l.s. british ferns, club mosses, and horse-tails by daniel ferguson, m.a. the naturalist at the seashore. by richard elmhirst, f.l.s. "zoo" aquarium. by a. e. hodge., f.l.s. how to use the microscope: a guide for the novice. by rev. charles a. hall, f.r.m.s. second edition, containing full-page illustrations from photo-micrographs and many line illustrations in the text. large crown vo., cloth. price s. d. net (by post, s. d.). peeps at the heavens. by james baikie, d.d., f.r.a.s. containing full-page illustrations ( in colour). large crown vo., cloth. price s. d. net (by post, s. d.). peeps at nature for little people each with full-page illustrations ( in colour, and in black-and-white). square crown vo. each s. d. net (by post, s. d.). creatures that fly. written and illustrated by winifred vaizey. creatures that swim. written and illustrated by winifred vaizey. creatures that walk. written by june morton, illustrated by w. vaizey. creatures that climb. written by june morton, illustrated by w. vaizey. creatures of the night. written by june morton, illustrated by w. vaizey. creatures of the frozen north. written by june morton, illustrated by w. vaizey. _published by_ a. & c. black, ltd., , & soho square. london, w. the "peeps" series peeps at great men each with full-page illustrations in colour and in black-and-white. charles dickens william shakespeare sir walter scott george washington peeps at great explorers by sir george scott, k.c.i.e., and g.e. mitton each with full-page illustrations in colour and in black-and-white. alexander the great vasco da gama marco polo captain cook columbus mungo park david livingstone peeps at great railways each volume containing full-page illustrations in colour and numerous small black-and-white illustrations in the text. the great western railway the london, midland and scottish railway the london and north-eastern railway the southern railway the canadian pacific railway peeps at industries each volume containing or full-page illustrations from photographs. cocoa sugar vegetable rubber tea oils miscellaneous volumes containing full-page illustrations in colour and black-and-white. architecture royal navy arts and crafts royal palaces of great british army britain british blue-jacket the league of nations children of long ago the world's children english folk dances the world's dolls the heavens the union jack and other heraldry principal flags of the historical songs british empire _a series of odd volumes of "peeps at many lands and cities" is_ _issued, and a complete list will be sent post free on application_ _to the publishers._ _published by_ a. & c. black, ltd , & soho square, london, w. transcriber's notes: this book contains a number of misprints. the following misprints have been corrected: [anything unforeseen occur] -> [anything unforeseen occurs] [the dust-grimmed members] -> [the dust-grimed members] [ordered mr. bulkley] -> [ordered mr. buckley] (this error occurs twice) [embarassing] -> [embarrassing] [chosing] -> [choosing] a few cases of punctuation errors were corrected, but are not mentioned here. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustration. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). the boy scouts along the susquehanna or the silver fox patrol caught in a flood by herbert carter author of "the boy scouts' first campfire," "the boy scouts in the blue ridge," "the boy scouts on the trail," "the boy scouts in the maine woods," "the boy scouts through the big timber," "the boy scouts in the rockies," etc. etc. copyright, by a. l. burt company [illustration: "close in on all sides and keep them well covered, boys!" said thad. _page _ _the boy scouts along the susquehanna._] contents chapter page i. the tramp chase. ii. sighing for trouble. iii. when bumpus climbed over the fence. iv. giraffe admits that the shoe fits. v. the camp in the haymow. vi. scouts to the rescue. vii. on the river road. viii. useful knowledge. ix. any port in a storm. x. the deserted shanty boat. xi. adrift on the flood. xii. hearts courageous. xiii. the island of hope. xiv. still surrounded by perils. xv. the return of giraffe. xvi. what davy heard. xvii. looking for signs. xviii. more serious news. xix. the trail of the marauder. xx. solving a mystery. xxi. an empty larder. xxii. drawing the net. xxiii. the smoke clew. xxiv. the capture. xxv. forced to tell. xxvi. the keepers of the camp. xxvii. headed for home--conclusion. the boy scouts along the susquehanna. chapter i. the tramp chase. "i'm no weather sharp, boys; but all the same i want to remark that it's going to rain like cats and dogs before a great while. put a pin in that to remember it, will you?" "what makes you say so, davy?" "yes, just when we're getting along splendidly, with the old susquehanna not a great ways off, you have to go and put a damper on everything. tell us how you know all that, won't you, davy jones?" "sure i will, giraffe, with the greatest of pleasure, while we're sitting here on this log, resting up. in the first place just notice how gray the sky's gotten since we had that snack at the farm house about noon!" "oh! shucks! that's no positive sign; it often clouds up, and never a drop falls." "there's going to be quite some drops come _this_ time, and don't you forget it, step hen. why, can't you feel the dampness in the air?" "that brings it a little closer home, davy; any more reasons?" demanded the boy answering to the singular name of "step hen," but who, under other conditions, would have come just as quickly if someone had shouted "steve!" "well, i was smart enough to look up the weather predictions before we left cranford yesterday," replied the active boy whom they called davy, as he laughed softly to himself; "and they said heavy rains coming all along the line from out west; and that they ought to hit us here by to-night, unless held up on the road." "whee! is that so? i guess you've made out your case, then, davy," admitted the boy called "giraffe," possibly on account of his unusually long neck, which he had a habit of stretching on occasion to abnormal dimensions. "mebbe thad knew about what was in the air when he told us to fetch our rubber ponchos along this trip," suggested step hen, whose last name was bingham. there were just eight boys in khaki sprawled along that log in various favorite positions suggestive of comfort. they constituted the full membership of the silver fox patrol connected with the cranford troop of boy scouts, and the one designated as thad brewster had been the leader ever since the start of the organization. those of our readers who have been fortunate enough to possess any of the previous volumes in this series need not be told just who these enterprising lads are; but for the purpose of introducing them to newcomers, a few words may be deemed necessary in the start. besides the patrol leader there were allan hollister, a boy whose former experiences in the woods of maine and the adirondacks made him an authority on subjects connected with outdoor life; a southern boy, robert quail white, called "bob white" by all his chums; conrad stedman, otherwise the "giraffe," previously mentioned; "step hen" bingham; davy jones, an uneasy fellow, whose great specialty seemed to lie in the way of wonderful gymnastic feats, such as walking on his hands, hanging by his toes from a lofty limb, and kindred remarkable reckless habits; cornelius hawtree, a very red-faced, stout youth, with fiery hair and a mild disposition, and known as "bumpus" among his set; and last though not least "smithy," whose real name was edmund maurice travers smith, and who had never fully overcome his dainty habits that at first had made him a subject of ridicule among the more rough-and-ready members of the silver fox patrol. there they were, as active a lot of scouts as could have been found from the atlantic to the pacific. they had been through considerable in the way of seeing life; and yet their experiences had not spoiled them in the least. at the time we discover them seated on that big log they were a good many miles away from their home town; and seemed to be bent upon some object that might make their easter holidays a season to be long remembered. when step hen so naively hinted that the patrol leader may have suspected a spell of bad weather was due, when he ordered them to be sure and fetch along their rubber ponchos, there was a craning of necks, as everybody tried to set eyes on the face of thad. of course giraffe had the advantage here, on account of that long neck of his, which he often thrust out something after the style of a tortoise when the land seems clear. "how about that, mr. scout master?" asked bumpus. thad brewster had a right to be called after that fashion, for he had duly qualified for the position, and received his commission from scout headquarters, empowering him to take the place of the regular scout master, when the latter could not be present. as dr. philander hobbs, the young man who gave of his time and energies to help the cause along, found himself unable to accompany the scouts on many of their outings, the necessity of assuming command frequently fell wholly on thad, who had always acquitted himself very well indeed. thad laughed as he noted their eagerness to hear his admission. "i'll have to own up, fellows," he went on to say frankly, "that i did read the paper, just as davy jones says happened with him; and when i saw the chances there were of a storm coming down on us, i made up my mind we ought to go prepared. but even if we didn't have a rubber poncho along i wouldn't be afraid to wager we'd get through in pretty decent shape." "that's right, thad," commented giraffe; "after scouts have gone the limit, like we did down south last winter, when the schoolhouse burned, and we had a fine vacation before the new brick one was completed, they ought to be able to buck up against nearly anything, and come out of the big end of the horn." "horn!" echoed bumpus, involuntarily letting his hand fall upon the silver-plated bugle he carried so proudly, and the possession of which told that he must be the bugler of the troop--"horn! that reminds me i haven't had a chance to use my dandy instrument only at reveille and taps for quite some time now." "well, don't start in now, bumpus, whatever you do," remonstrated step hen. "to my mind a horn's a good thing only on certain occasions. now, when i'm just gettin' the best sleep after sun-up it's sure a shame to hear you tooting away to beat the band." "but none of us make any sort of a row when he blows the assembly at meal times, i notice," smithy remarked sagely; and not a protest was raised, showing that in this particular the members of the patrol were unanimously agreed. the last exploit of the scouts had taken them into the far south, in fact among the lagoons and swamps of louisiana; and although some months had since passed, it would seem as though the events of that thrilling experience were still being threshed out whenever the eight boys came together. thad was an orphan, living with an uncle, a quaint old man whom everyone knew as "daddy." acting from information that had been received in a round-about way, the leader of the scout patrol had organized an expedition to go south during the unexpected vacation, to look for a certain man who had once worked for his widowed mother, and was suspected of having been concerned in the mysterious disappearance of thad's little sister, pauline, some years back. the boys had carried this enterprise through to a successful termination; and after meeting with many thrilling, likewise comical adventures, had actually traced this man, and managed to recover the child; who was now a happy inmate of the brewster home, the pride of old daddy's heart. judging from the numerous burdens with which the eight boys were weighted down it would seem that they must be in heavy marching order, after the manner of troops afield. each fellow carried a blanket, folded so as to hang from his shoulder, and with the two ends secured under the other arm. besides, he had a haversack that looked as though it might contain more or less food and extra clothing. giraffe also sported a frying-pan of generous dimensions; another scout carried a coffee pot; and doubtless the necessary tin cups, knives, forks, platters and spoons would be forthcoming whenever needed. the convenient log which served the boys as a seat lay close to the road along which they had been tramping for hours that day, making inquiries whenever a chance offered, and picking up clews after the fashion of real scouts. as the reason for their coming to this part of the country has everything to do with our story, it had better be explained before we follow thad and his chums any further along the rather muddy road that led across country to the susquehanna river. just a couple of days before the coming of the easter holidays thad had been asked over the 'phone to come and see judge whittaker, one of the most respected citizens of cranford. wondering what the strange request could mean, the patrol leader had immediately complied, after school that same afternoon. he heard a most remarkable thing, and one that thrilled his nerves as they had not been stirred for many a day. the judge first of all told him that he had long observed the doings of the scouts with growing admiration, and finding himself in need of assistance of a peculiar order, made bold to call upon thad to help him. shorn of all unnecessary particulars, it would seem that the judge, obeying a whim which he now called the height of foolishness, and while waiting for a new safe to be delivered from new york to take the place of the one that had to be opened by an expert because the time-lock had gone wrong, had actually sewed a very valuable paper in the red lining of an old faded blue coat which was hanging in his closet, and which he kept as a memento of the time his only son served in the engineer corps of the army. it seemed that as the judge had married again, his wife was not very fond of seeing that old blue army overcoat with the red lining hanging around; and thinking it a useless incumbrance, she had figured that it would be doing more good shielding some poor tramp from the cold than just tempting the moths in that closet. and so it came about that one day, upon looking for the army coat, the judge discovered to his utmost dismay that it could not be found. when he asked his wife, she was compelled to admit that three days before, after pitying a shivering hobo who came to the door and asked for food, she had obeyed a sudden generous instinct and given him the warm if faded blue overcoat. the judge was in a great predicament now. his first thought was to start out in search of "wandering george" himself, and buy back the coat, which the hobo could not imagine would be worth more than a dollar or so at the most. then, when he remembered his rheumatism, and how unfitted for such a chase he must be, the judge gave this plan up. his next idea was to send to the city and have a detective put on the track; but he had a horror of doing this, because he fancied that most of these professional detectives were only too ready to demand blackmail if given half a chance; and there was something about that paper which judge whittaker did not want known in a public way. and just about that time he happened to think of thad and his scouts; which gave him an inspiration. he felt sure they would be able to follow the hobo who wore the faded army overcoat, and in due time come up with him. then thad was to offer him a few dollars for the garment, using his discretion so that the suspicions of the tramp might not be aroused. it promised to be a pretty chase, and already they had been on the road for the better part of two days, here and there learning that a man wearing such a coat had been seen to pass along. part of the time they had tramped the ties of the railroad, but latterly the chase had stuck to the highway. now, acting on the suggestion of the sorrowful judge, thad had not told any one of the scouts, saving his close chum allan, what the real reason of the hunt for the lost army coat meant. the others simply fancied that judge whittaker valued the old garment highly because his only son, now in alaska, had worn it during the spanish-american war, and was unwilling to have it come to such a disgraceful end. all they thought about was the fun of tracking the hobo and eventually bringing back the old engineer corps overcoat to its late owner. that was glory enough for step hen, giraffe, bumpus and the rest. it afforded them a chance to get in the open, and imagine for a time at least that they were outdoing some of those dusky warriors who, in the good old days of "leatherstocking" and others of cooper's characters, roamed these very same woods. "if you feel rested enough, fellows," thad now told them, "perhaps we'd better get a move on again. the last information we managed to pick up told us this wandering george, as he likes to call himself, can't be a great distance ahead of us now. in fact, i'm in hopes that we may run across him before night comes and forces us to go into camp somewhere along the river." accordingly, the other scouts sprang to their feet, everyone trying to make out that he was as "fresh as a daisy," though poor fat bumpus gave an audible groan when he pried himself loose from that comfortable log. he was not built for long hikes, though possessed of a stubborn nature that made it hard for him to give up any object upon which he had set his heart. "yes, we've rested long enough," admitted giraffe, who, being tall and slim, was known as a fine runner, and long distance pedestrian. "sorry to say there won't be any wagon following us to pick up stragglers; so if you fall down, bumpus, better stop at the first farmhouse you strike, and wait till we come back." this little slur only caused the fat scout to look at the speaker contemptuously; but from an unexpected quarter help came. "huh! you certainly do like to rub it into bumpus, giraffe, because he's built on the heavy order," step hen went on to say; "but go slow, my boy. don't you know the battle isn't always to the swift or the strong? have you forgotten all about the race between the hare and the tortoise; and didn't the old slow-moving chap come in ahead, after all? i've known bumpus to beat you out before this. you may have to use a crow-bar to get him started sometimes; but once he does move he don't let little things balk him. besides, it ain't nice of you nagging him because he happens to weigh twice as much as you do. bumpus is all right!" "thank you, step hen; i'll remember that," observed the freckled-face scout, as he gave his defender an appreciative grin. down the road they went, straggling along without any particular order, because thad knew from past experiences he could get better work out of his followers when they relaxed. still, they kept pretty well bunched, for whenever the conversation started up none of them wished to lose a word of what was said. on the previous night they had been forced to make a temporary shelter with all manner of fence rails, boughs from trees, and such brush as they could find. having their blankets along, and being cheered with a camp fire during the night, the experience had been rather delightful on the whole. these energetic boys had been through so much during the time they belonged to the cranford scouts that nothing along ordinary lines seemed to daunt them. they were well equipped for meeting and overcoming such difficulties as might arise to confront them on a trip like the present one; in fact, they took keen delight in matching their wits against all comers, and a victory only served to whet their appetite for more problems to be solved along the line of woodcraft knowledge. for something like half an hour they pushed steadily along. bumpus, in order to positively prove to the sneering giraffe that he was in the best of condition, had actually pushed ahead with the leaders. if he limped occasionally he did his best to conceal the fact by mumbling something about the nuisance of stepping on pebbles and being nearly thrown off his balance; a ruse that caused the said wily giraffe to smile broadly, and wink toward step hen knowingly. however, this disposition of their forces enabled bumpus to make a discovery of apparently vast importance, which he suddenly communicated to the rest in what he intended to be a stage whisper: "hey! hold on here, what's this i see ahead of us, boys? unless my eyes have gone back on me, which i don't believe they have, there's the smoke of a fire rising over yonder alongside the road; and thad, tell me, ain't there a couple of trampy looking fellows sitting on stones cooking their grub? bully for us, fellows, i wouldn't be surprised a bit now if we'd gone and ketched up with our quarry right here and now!" every scout stared as bumpus was saying all of this. they saw that smoke was undoubtedly rising close to the road, showing the presence of a fire; while their keen, practiced eyes, used to observing things at long distances, told them that in all probability the two men who occupied the roadside camp belonged to the order of hoboes; for their clothing showed signs of much wear and tear, and moreover they were heating their coffee in old tomato cans, after the time-tried custom of the tramp tribe the country over. naturally, under the circumstances, this discovery caused their hearts to beat with additional rapidity as they contemplated an early closing of their campaign. chapter ii. sighing for trouble. "well, i'm sorry, that's all!" ejaculated step hen. "what at?" demanded giraffe; "we ought to be puffed up with pride over our success, and here you go to pulling a long face. what ails you, step hen?" "it's just this way," muttered the scout addressed disconsolately; "we never did run across a better chance to have a great time than when we started out on this hobo chase; and here it's turned out too easy for anything. shucks! a tenderfoot might have followed that wandering george right along to here; and now all we've got to do is to surround the camp, and make him fork over that old blue coat the judge loves so well. it's a shame, that's what!" "i feel something the same way you do, step hen," remarked allan; "why, i figured on doing all sorts of smart stunts while we were on this hike; and here, before a chance comes along, we corral our game!" "i'm just as sorry as you, suh," observed the southern boy, with the accent that stamped him a true dixie lad; "but i reckon now you wouldn't have thad tell us to sheer off, and give the hoboes a chance to run away, just to let us keep up this chase. we promised to recover that old army coat for the judge, and for one i'd be ashamed to look him in the face again, suh, if we let it slip through our fingers on account of wanting to lengthen the sport." "that's the right sort of talk, bob white," said thad, with a nod of his head, and a sparkle in his eyes. "much as we all like the sport of showing what we know in the way of woodcraft, duty comes first. and we couldn't shirk our responsibility in this case just to gratify our liking for action." "what's the program, then, thad?" asked smithy, yawning as though he did not feel quite as much interest in the chase as some of the others; for smithy of late, thad noticed with regret, was apparently losing some of his former vigor, and acting as though ready to shirk his duty when it did not happen to appeal to him very strongly. "we can have a little fun out of the thing by planning a complete surround, can't we, thad?" asked step hen eagerly. "i hope you say yes to that, mr. scout master," added giraffe; "because it'll be apt to take some of the sting out, after having our game come to such a sudden end." "i was going to say something along those lines, boys, if you had let me," thad told them. "so far the tramps have given no sign that they suspect our being here. we'll arrange it so as to surround the camp, and then at a signal from me everybody stand up and show themselves. i'll arrange it so that we'll make a complete circle around the fire, and to do that we'll move in couples." he immediately paired them off, and each detachment was told what was expected of it in making the move a practical success. even in these apparently small matters thad proved himself a capable commander, for he picked out the most able to undertake the difficult part of the work, while to smithy and bumpus was delegated the easier task of crawling along the side of the road until they found shelter close to the hoboes' fire. giraffe and step hen were ordered to cross to the other side of the road and, making a little detour, came up from the north. the remaining four scouts branched off to the south, and it was the intention of thad, taking davy jones along, to continue the enveloping movement until he could approach from the opposite quarter, which would mean along the road in the other direction. meanwhile bob white and allan would be taking positions to the south, and then curbing their impatience until thad had signaled and learned that all of them were in place. this was a most interesting piece of work for the boys. they delighted in just such practices, and for the simple reason that it enabled them to bring to bear on the matter all the knowledge they had managed to accumulate connected with the real tactics of scouting, as practiced by hunters and indians, as well as the advance guard of an army sent out to "feel" of the enemy's lines. at a certain point thad gave allan and bob white the sign that they were to turn to one side, and begin advancing toward the smoke again, while he and davy would keep straight on. they did not have to creep as yet, but kept bending low, in order to render the risk of being discovered as small as possible. later on, however, as they headed toward the hub of the wheel, which was marked by the cooking fire, thad and his companion did not hesitate to flatten themselves out on occasion, and do some pretty fine wriggling in passing from one patch of leafless bushes to another. every time they raised their heads cautiously to look, davy would give one of his little chuckles, telling that the situation was eminently satisfactory, so far as he could see. the two men were still hovering over their miserable little fire, which was such a poor excuse for a cooking blaze that any practical scout must curl his lip in disdain, knowing how easy it is to manage so as to have red coals, instead of smoky wood, when doing the cooking. davy could see that there was no longer the first question about their being genuine tramps. a dozen signs pointed to this fact; and he found himself wondering which of the pair would turn out to be wandering george. he did not see the faded blue army coat on either of them; but then it would be only natural for the possessor to discard this extra weight when keeping so close to a warm blaze. doubtless, the object of their search would be found nearby, used in lieu of a blanket, to cover the form of the new owner as he slept in the open, or in some farmer's haystack. several of the scouts carried guns, even bumpus having so burdened himself in the hope that during their chase after the lost army coat they might happen to run across some game worth taking, in order to lend additional zest to the outing. as thad and davy had chosen the longest task in making for the further side of the hobo camp, they could take it for granted when they finally reached the position the scout leader had in his eye, that all of the other detachments must by then have arrived. to test this thad gave a peculiar little sound that was as near like the bark of a fox as possible. every member of the patrol had in times past perfected himself in making just that sort of sound, and of course they would immediately recognize it as the signal of the scout master, desirous of knowing whether all of them had gained their positions. there came an immediate "ha! ha!" from across the road, and also from deeper in the woods, where allan and bob white were lying; but none from bumpus and smithy. evidently, something had happened to cause a delay there. thinking they had what they might call a "snap," the two slow moving scouts covering this quarter had delayed their advance too long, and were now holding back. as the tramps, however, had heard those strange barking sounds coming from three quarters, and jumped to their feet in alarm, thad did not consider it wise to delay the exposure of their presence any longer. accordingly, he gave a shrill whistle that was well known to the others. imagine the consternation of the hobo campers when from behind concealing bushes they saw figures in khaki rise up, some of them bearing threatening guns. even bumpus and smithy followed suit, though not as near the fire as the rest. perhaps the first thought of the alarmed tramps was that they were surrounded by a detachment of the militia, for the sight of those khaki suits must have stunned them. before they could gather their wits together to think of resistance thad was heard to call out with military precision: "close in on all sides; and keep them well covered, boys!" at that those who carried guns made out to aim them, and their manner was so threatening that both hoboes immediately elevated their hands, as though desirous of letting their captors see that they did not expect to offer the slightest resistance. slowly the scouts came forward, converging toward the common center, which of course was the smoky fire, alongside of which those two old tomato cans stood, each secured at the end of a bunch of metal ribs taken from a cast-off umbrella. that successful surround would have made a picture worthy of being framed and hung upon the wall of their meeting room in the home town, some of the scouts may have proudly thought, as they walked slowly forward, thrilled with the consciousness of power. the tramps kept turning around, to stare first at one pair of boys and then at another lot, as though hardly knowing whether they were awake or dreaming. if they had guilty consciences, connected with stolen chickens, or other farm products, they must have believed that the strong arm of the law had found them out, and that the next thing on the program would be their being marched off to some country town lockup. "aw! it's too, too easy, that's what!" grumbled step hen disconsolately. "like taking candy from the baby!" added giraffe, who always liked to have some spice connected with their adventures, and could not bear the idea of being on a team that outclassed its rival in every department; a tough struggle was what appealed to him every time, though of course he wanted the victory to eventually settle on the banner of the silver fox patrol. "makes me think of that old couplet we used to say about old alexander," bumpus here thought it policy to remark, just to show them that he too hoped there might have been some warm action before the tramps surrendered; "let's see, how does she go? 'alexander with ten thousand men, marched up the alps, and down again!'" "mebbe it was hannibal you're thinking about, bumpus," suggested step hen; "but it don't matter much who did it, we've gone and copied after him. i say, we ought to go home by a roundabout course, so as to try and stir things up some. this is sure too easy a job for scouts that have been through all we have." the tramps were listening, and eagerly drinking in all that was said; perhaps a faint hope had begun to possess them that after all things might not turn out to be quite as bad as first appearances would indicate. "thad, it's up to you to claim that coat now, so we can evacuate this camp," observed smithy, who was observed to be pinching his nose with thumb and forefinger, as though the near presence of the tattered hoboes offended his olfactory nerves; for as has been said before, the smith boy had been a regular dude at the time he joined the patrol, and even at this late day the old trait occasionally cropped out. thad looked around at his comrades, and somehow when they saw the smile on his face a feeling bordering on consternation seized hold of them. "what is it, thad?" asked davy jones solicitously. "yes, why don't you tell us to get what we came after, and fly the coop?" demanded giraffe, who did not fancy being so close to the ill-favored tramps much more than the elegant smithy did. "there's nothing doing, fellows," said the acting scout master, with an eloquent shrug of his shoulders that carried even more weight than his words. "what!" almost shrieked step hen, "do you mean to tell us that we're on the wrong trail, and that neither of these gents is the one we want, wandering george?" "that's just what ails us," admitted thad; "we counted our chickens before they were hatched, that's all. stop and remember the descriptions we've had of this wandering george, and you'll see how we've been barking up the wrong tree!" all eyes were immediately and eagerly focused on the faces of the two wondering hoboes. at the same time, no doubt, there was passing through each boy's mind that description of the man who had gone off with the faded army overcoat, and which had been their mainstay in the way of a clew, while following the trail. chapter iii. when bumpus climbed over the fence. a brief silence followed these words of the patrol leader. then the boys were seen to nod their heads knowingly. it was evident that, once they had their suspicions aroused by thad, every fellow could see what a dreadful mistake had been made. "well, i should say now that wandering george was half a foot taller'n either of these fellows!" declared bumpus, being the first to control his tongue, which was something remarkable, since as a rule he was as slow of speech as he was with regard to moving, on account of his weight. "and had red hair in the bargain!" added step hen. "oh! everybody's doing it now," mocked davy jones; "and i can see that there ain't the first sign of an old faded blue army overcoat anywhere around _this_ camp." "after all, who cares?" exclaimed giraffe, as he lowered his threatening gun; an act that doubtless gave the two tramps much solid satisfaction. "all of us felt mean and sore because our fine tracking game had come to such a sudden end. now there's still a chance we'll meet up with a few crackerjack adventures before we pick the prize. i say bully all around!" davy jones immediately threw himself into an acrobatic position, and waved both of his feet wildly in the air, as though he felt that the situation might be beyond weak words, and called for something stronger in order to express his exuberant feelings. "yes, all of those things would be enough to convince us we've made a mistake," remarked thad; "and if we want any further proof here it is right before us." he pointed to the ground as he spoke. there were a number of footprints in the half dried mud close to the border of the road, evidently made by the two men as they walked back and forth collecting dead wood for their cooking fire. "you're right, thad," commented allan hollister, who of course instantly saw what the other meant when he pointed in that way. "we settled it long ago that we ought to know wandering george any time we came up with him, simply because he's got a rag tied around his right shoe to keep it on his foot, it's that old, and going to flinders. neither of these men has need to do that; in fact, if you notice, they've both got shoes on that look nearly new!" at that one of the tramps hastened to speak, as though he began to fear that as it was so remarkable a thing for a road roamer to be wearing good footgear, they were liable to arrest as having stolen the same. "say, we done a little turn for a cobbler two days back, over in hooptown, an' he give us the shoes. said he fixed 'em fur customers what didn't ever come back to pay the charges; didn't we, smikes?" "we told him his barn was on fire, sure we did, an' helped him trow water on, an' keep the thing from burnin' down. he gives us a hunky dinner, an' trows de trilbies in fur good measure. but dey hurts us bad, an' we was jest a-sayin' we wishes we had de ole uns back agin. if it wa'n't so cold we'd take 'em off right now, and go bare-footed, wouldn't we, jake?" "oh! well, it doesn't matter to us where you got the shoes," said thad. "we happen to be looking for another man, and thought one of you might be him. so go on with your cooking; and, giraffe, where's that knuckle of ham you said you hated to lug any further, but which you thought it a sin to throw away? perhaps we might hand the same over to smikes and jake, to pay up for having given them such a bad scare." this caused the two tramps to grin in anxious anticipation; and when giraffe only too willingly extracted the said remnant of a half ham which the scouts had started with, they eagerly seized upon it. "it's all right, young fellers," remarked the one who had been called smikes, as he clutched the prize; "we ain't a-carin' if we gits the same kind o' a skeer 'bout once a day reg'lar-like, hey, jake? talk tuh me 'bout dinner rainin' down frum the clouds, this beats my time holler. cum agin, boys, an' do it sum more." thad knew it was folly to stay any longer at the camp, but before leaving he wished to put a question to the men. "we're looking for a fellow who calls himself wandering george," he went on to say. "just now he's wearing an old faded blue army overcoat that was given to him by a lady who didn't know that her husband valued it as a keepsake. so we just offered to find it for him, and give george a dollar or so to make up. have either of you seen a man wearing a blue coat like that?" "nixey, mister," replied jake promptly. "say, i used to wear a blue overcoat, like them, when i was marchin' fur ole unc sam in the spanish war, fool thet i was; but honest to goodness now i ain't set eyes on the like this three years an' more," the second tramp asserted. "that settles it, then, fellows!" ejaculated step hen, with a note of joy in his voice; "we've got to go on further, and run our quarry down. and let me tell you i'm tickled nearly to death because it's turned out so." "who be you boys, anyhow?" asked smikes. "air ye what we hears called scouts?" "just what we are," replied allan. "that's why we think it's so much fun to follow this wandering george, and trade him a big silver dollar for the old coat the lady gave him when she saw he made out to be cold. scouts are crazy to do all kinds of things like that, you know." "well, dew tell," muttered the tramp, shaking his head; "i don't git on ter the trick, fur a fact. if 'twar me now, i'd rather be a-settin' in a warm room waitin' tuh hear the dinner horn blow." "oh! we all like to hear that, let me tell you," asserted giraffe, who was unusually fond of eating; "but we get tired of home cooking, and things taste so fine when you're in camp." "huh! mebbe so, when yuh got plenty o' the right kind o' stuff along," observed the man who gripped the ham bone that giraffe had tossed him, "but yuh'd think a heap different, let me tell yuh, if ever any of the lot knowed wat it meant tuh be as hungry as a wolf, and nawthin' tuh satisfy it with. but then there seems tuh be all kinds o' people in this ole world; an' they jest kaint understand each other noways." thad saw that the tramp was rather a queer customer, and something along the order of a hobo philosopher; but he had no more time just then to stand and talk with him out of idle curiosity. so he gave the order, and the scouts, wheeling around, strode out upon the road, their faces set toward the east. the last they saw of the two tramps was just before turning a bend in the road they looked back and saw that the men were apparently hard at work dividing the remnant of the ham that had been turned over by the boys as some sort of solace to soothe their wounded feelings. half a mile further on and the woods gave place to cultivated fields and pastures, although of course it was too early in the season for much work to be done by the farmers, except where they were hauling fertilizer to make ready for the first plowing. "if we get the chance, boys, to-night, let's sleep in a barn," suggested giraffe, as he rubbed his right shank as though it might pain him. "where we lay last night it seemed to me a million roots and stones kept pushing into my body till i was black and blue this morning. and i always did like to nestle down in good sweet hay. i don't blame tramps for taking the chance every opportunity that opens. what do the rest of you say to that?" "it strikes me favorably," step hen quickly admitted. "oh! any old place is good enough for me," sighed bumpus. "if you can only be sure there are no rats around, i believe i'd enjoy sleeping in a hay mow," davy told them. "i've never had the experience," remarked smithy with a shrug of his shoulders, and a grimace; "and i must confess i don't hanker much for it. bad enough to have to roll up in your own blanket any old time; but spiders and hornets and all that horrible set are to be found in haylofts, they tell me. i'm more afraid of them than an alligator or a wild bull. a gypsy once told me i would die from poison bites, and ever since i've had to be mighty careful." of course the rest of the scouts had to laugh to hear smithy confess that he believed in the prophecy of a gypsy, or any other fake fortune-teller. "i wouldn't lie awake a minute," ventured step hen, "if a dozen gypsies told me i was going to break my neck falling out of bed. fact is, i'm built so contrary that like as not i'd hunt up the highest bed i could find to sleep on. i do everything on friday i can think of; and when the thirteenth of the month comes around i'm always looking out to see how i can tempt fate. ain't an ounce of superstition in my whole body, i guess. fortune-tellers! bah! you ought to have been a girl, smithy." "oh! well, i didn't say i _believed_ i'd die by poison, did i?" demanded the other adroitly; "i'm only explaining that i don't mean to let the silly prophecy come true by taking hazards that are quite unnecessary." "seems to me we've been walking like hot cakes ever since we said good-by to smikes and jake," observed bumpus, who was puffing a little from his exertions; "and thad, would you mind if we took a little breathing spell about now? just see how inviting this pile of old fence rails looks alongside the road. i hope you say yes, thad, because i want to get fit to keep on the go till dark comes along." "no objections to favoring you, bumpus," thad told him; "and if looks count for anything i rather think all the rest of us will be glad of a chance to rest up a little. so drop down, and take things easy, boys. i'll give you ten minutes here." "look sharp before you sit down!" warned smithy, who had disengaged his blanket, as though meaning to use it for a soft cushion--time was when he invariably brushed a board or other intended resting-place with his handkerchief before sitting down; but the other scouts had long ago laughed him out of this habit, which jarred upon their nerves as hardly consistent with rough-and-ready scout life. giraffe had a most remarkable pair of eyes. he often discovered things that no one else had any suspicion existed. on this account, as well as the fact that he was able to see further and more accurately than his chums, he was sometimes designated as "old eagle eye," and the employment of that name invariably gave him more or less pleasure, since it proclaimed his superiority in the line of observation. giraffe was also a great hand for practical jokes. when some idea flashed into his mind he often gave little heed to the possible result, but immediately felt impelled to put his scheme into practice, with the sole idea of creating a laugh, of course with another scout as the victim. they had hardly been sitting there five minutes when giraffe might have been heard chuckling softly to himself, though no one seemed to pay any particular attention to him. he elevated that long neck of his once or twice as if desirous of making sure concerning a certain point before going any further. then, when satisfied on this score, he glanced from one to another of his companions, evidently seeking a victim. when his gaze, after going along the entire line, returned once more to plump, good-natured bumpus, who had now ceased puffing, and was looking rested, it might be set down as certain that there was trouble of some sort in store for the red-haired, freckle-faced scout. now giraffe was a sharp schemer. he knew how to go about his business in a way least calculated to arouse suspicion. instead of immediately blurting out what he had in mind, he started to "beating around the bush," seeking to first disarm his intended victim by drawing him into a little discussion. before another full minute had passed thad noticed that giraffe and bumpus were warmly discussing some matter, and that the stout scout seemed to be unusually in earnest. doubtless, this was on account of the sly assertions which giraffe inflicted upon him, the tall scout being a past master when it came to giving little digs that hurt worse than pins thrust into one's flesh. "i tell you i _can_ do it!" bumpus was heard to say stubbornly. "don't believe you'd ever come within a mile of making it, and that goes, bumpus." giraffe went on as though he might be a doubting thomas who could only be convinced by actual contact; "and tell you what i'll do to prove i'm in earnest. if you make it in three trials, straddling the limb while my watch is counting a whole minute, i'll hand over that fine compass you always liked so much. how's that, bumpus; are you game to show us, or have i dared you to a standstill?" "what, _me_ back down for a little thing like that? well, you just watch me make you eat your words, giraffe!" so saying the fat scout clambered up over the rail fence, and dropped in the open pasture beyond. "what's he going to do?" asked thad, as they saw bumpus start on a waddling sort of gait toward a tree that stood by itself some little distance from the fence, and with a clump of bushes not far away. he looked a little suspiciously at giraffe, who immediately stopped his chuckling, and tried to draw a solemn face, though he shut one eye in a humorous fashion. "why, he started to boast that he had been doing some fine climbing lately," explained the tall scout; "and i dared him to go over and get up in that tree while i held the watch on him. he's got to start climbing and make it inside of sixty seconds; and between you and me, thad, i reckon now he might manage it in half that time--if hard pushed." "you've got some game started, giraffe; what is it?" asked the patrol leader, as he turned again and watched the portly scout moving like a ponderous machine toward the tree which giraffe had mentioned as a part of the contract. giraffe did not need to answer, for at that very second there came what seemed to be a loud bellow of rage from over in the field somewhere. looking hastily through the bars of the fence, the seven boys saw a spectacle that thrilled them with various emotions. from out of the sheltering bushes, where those keen roving eyes of giraffe must have discovered her presence, came a dun-colored cow. possibly her calf had recently been taken from her by the butcher, for she was furious toward all humankind. her tail was held in the air, and as she ran straight toward poor bumpus she stopped for a moment several times to toss a cloud of earth up with her hoofs, for she had no horns, thad noted, which was at least one thing favoring bumpus. chapter iv. giraffe admits that the shoe fits. "look out, bumpus!" shrieked davy jones, as though instantly realizing what a perilous position the stout scout would be in if that angry cow succeeded in bowling him over with her hornless head. "run! run, bumpus; a wild bull is after you!" shouted step hen, who may have really believed what he was saying with such a vim; or else considered that by magnifying the danger he might add more or less to the sprinting ability of the said bumpus. there was really little need to send all these warnings pealing over the field, because bumpus had already glimpsed the oncoming enemy, and was in full flight. at the moment of discovery he chanced to be fully two-thirds of the way over to the tree which had been the special object of his attention. it was therefore much easier for him to reach this haven of refuge than it would have been to dash for the fence with any hope of making that barrier. "go it, bumpus, i'll bet on you!" howled giraffe, jumping up on the fence in his great excitement, so that he might not miss seeing anything of the amusing affair. now, possibly, the angry cow that had been bereft of her beloved calf by a late visit of the butcher might have readily overhauled poor bumpus had she kept straight on without a stop, for she could cover two yards to his one. for some reason which only a cow or bull could understand, the animal seemed to consider it absolutely necessary that with every few paces she must come to a halt and paw the ground again, sending the earth flying about her. that gave the stout runner his chance, and so he succeeded in gaining the tree, with his four-footed enemy still a little distance away. bumpus was evidently unnerved. he had seen that terrifying spectacle several times as he looked anxiously over his fat shoulder, and it had always caused him to put on an additional spurt. when finally he banged up against the tree, having of course stumbled as usual, his one idea was to climb with lightning speed. his agreement with the scheming giraffe called for an ascent in sixty seconds, but he now had good reason for desiring to shorten this limit exceedingly. he doubtless imagined that he would feel the crash of that butting head against his person before he had ascended five feet, and this completely rattled him. left to himself and possibly he could have climbed the smooth trunk within the limit of time specified in his arrangement with giraffe; but such was his excitement now that he made a sorry mess of it. the boys were shrieking all sorts of instructions to him to "hurry up," or he was bound to become a victim; one was begging him with tears in his eyes to "get a move on him!" while another warned bumpus of the near approach of the oncoming cow, and also the fact that she had "fire in her eyes!" twice did the scout manage to get part way up, when in his tremendous excitement he lost his grip, and in consequence slipped down again, amid a chorus of hollow groans from the watchers beyond the fence. the avenging cow was now close up, and still enjoying the situation, as was evidenced by the way she made the earth fly. she could be heard giving a series of strange moaning sounds peculiarly terrifying; at least bumpus evidently thought so, for after his second fall he just sat there, and stared at the oncoming enemy as if he had actually lost his wits. "get behind the tree, bumpus!" that was thad shouting, and using both his hands in lieu of any better megaphone. now, since thad had always been the leader of the patrol ever since its formation, bumpus was quite accustomed to obeying any order which the other might give. doubtless, he recognized the accustomed authority in those tones; at any rate, it was noticed that he once more began to make a move, struggling to his feet in his usual clumsy way. "oh! he just missed getting struck!" ejaculated smithy, as they saw bumpus move around the tree, and heard a loud crash when the head of the charging cow smashed against the covering object. the animal was apparently somewhat stunned by the contact, for she stood there, looking a little "groggy," as giraffe called it. had bumpus known enough to remain perfectly still, and allow the tree to shelter him the best it could, all might have gone well; but something that may have been boyish curiosity impelled the fat scout to thrust out his head. why, he had so far recovered from his fright, thanks to the substantial aid of that tree-trunk, that he actually put his fingers to his nose, and wiggled them at the cow! she must have seen him do it, and immediately resented the implied insult; for all of a sudden she was seen to be in motion again. there was a flash of dun-colored sides, and around the tree the cow sped, chasing bumpus ahead of her. of course the scout did not have to cover as much ground as the animal, but the fact must be remembered that he was a very clumsy fellow, and apt to trip over his own feet when excited, so that the danger of his falling a victim to the rage of the mother cow was as acute as ever, despite the sheltering tree. giraffe seemed to be enjoying the game immensely. he sat there, perched on the rail fence, and clapped his hands with glee, while shouting all manner of brotherly advice at bumpus. this of course fell on deaf ears, because just then the imperiled scout could think of only one thing at a time, and that was to keep out of reach of that battering ram. thad knew that something must be done to help bumpus, who if left to his own resources never would be able to extricate himself from the bad fix into which he had stumbled, thanks to that love of a joke on the part of giraffe, and his own blindness. "hi, there, bumpus, she thinks you look like the butcher that took her calf away, that's what's the matter!" cried step hen. "pity you ain't a cow puncher, bumpus," giraffe went on to say; "because then you could throw that poor thing easy. huh! think i could do it with one hand!" "then suppose you get off that fence and do it!" said thad severely. "you got poor old bumpus in that hole, and it ought to be your business to rescue him!" giraffe looked dubious. when he spoke so confidently about believing himself able to down the raging cow he certainly could not have meant it. "oh! he ain't going to get hurt, thad," he started to say; "if i saw him knocked down, course i'd jump and run to help him. the exercise ought to do bumpus good, for he's been putting on too much flesh lately, you know. you'll have to excuse me, thad, sure you will. i'll go if things look bad for him; but i hate to break up the game now by interfering." thad paid no more attention to giraffe, since he knew that the other's inordinate love for practical joking made him blind to facts that as a true scout he should have kept before his mind. "hello! bumpus!" the patrol leader once more shouted. "yes--t-had, what is it?" came back in a wheezy voice, for to tell the truth bumpus was getting pretty well winded by now, thanks to the rapid manner in which he had to navigate around that tree again, with the active bovine in pursuit. "take off that red bandanna from your neck, and put it in your pocket!" ordered the patrol leader. strange to say no one else--saving possibly the artful giraffe--had once considered this glaring fact, that much of the cow's anger was excited by seeing the hated color so prominently displayed by the boy who had invaded the pasture at such an unfortunate time in her life of frequent bereavements. taking it for granted that bumpus would obey the first chance he got to unfasten the knot by which his big bandanna was secured around his neck, thad clambered over the fence and started to run. he did not head directly for the tree around which this exciting chase was being carried on, but obliquely. in doing this thad had several reasons, no doubt. first of all he was more apt to catch the attention of the angry cow, for he was waving his own red handkerchief wildly as he ran, and doing everything else in his power to attract notice. then, if he did succeed in luring the animal toward him he would be taking her away from the tree at such an angle that when bumpus headed for the spot where his other chums were gathered the cow would not be apt to see him in motion and give chase. thad knew how to work the thing nicely. he succeeded in attracting the attention of the cow, for he saw her stop in her pursuit of bumpus, and start to pawing the turf again. "she's coming, thad!" roared allan. as he spoke the cow started on a full run for the new enemy. that flaunting red rag bade her defiance, apparently, and no respectable bovine could refuse to accept such a gage of battle. thad had not gone far away from the fence at any time. he was not hankering to play the part of a bull-baiter, and run the chance of being tossed high in the air, or butted into the ground. he had, like a wise general, also marked out the way of retreat, and when the onrushing animal was fully started, so that there seemed to be little likelihood of her stopping short of the fence, thad nimbly darted along, and just at the proper time he was seen to make a flying leap that landed him on the top rail, from which he instantly dropped to the ground. he continued to flaunt the red handkerchief as close to the nose of the cow as he could, so as to hold her attention; while she butted the fence again and again, as only an angry and baffled beast might. thad was meanwhile again shouting his directions to the dazed bumpus, who, winded by his recent tremendous exertions, had actually sunk down at the base of the friendly tree as though exhausted. "get moving, bumpus!" was what the patrol leader told him. "back away, and try to keep the tree between the cow and yourself all you can. don't waste a single minute, because she may break away from me, and hunt you up again! get a move on you, bumpus, do you hear?" finally aroused to a consciousness of the fact that he was not yet "out of the woods" so long as no fence separated him from that fighting cow, bumpus started in to obey the directions given by the leader of the silver fox patrol. it was no difficult matter to back away, keeping in a line that would allow the tree to cover him, and the fat scout in this manner drew steadily closer to where his comrades awaited him. he was near the fence when the cow must have discovered him again, for the first thing bumpus knew he heard davy shrieking madly. "run like everything, bumpus! whoop! here she comes, licketty-split after you! to the fence, and we'll help you over, bumpus! come on! come on!" which bumpus was of course doing the best he knew how, not even daring to look over his shoulder for fear of being petrified by the awful sight of that "monster" charging after him, and appearing ten times as big as she really was. arriving at the fence he found davy and giraffe awaiting him, for the latter, possibly arriving at the repentant stage, had begun to realize that a joke may often be very one-sided, and that "what is fun for the boys is death to the frogs." assisted by their willing arms the almost breathless fat scout was hustled over the fence. there was indeed little time to spare. hardly had davy and giraffe managed to follow after him, so that all three landed beyond the barrier, when the baffled bovine arrived on the spot, to bellow with rage as she realized that her intended prey had escaped for good. bumpus was hardly able to breathe. he was fiery red in the face, and quite wet with perspiration; but nevertheless he looked suspiciously at giraffe, as though a dim idea might be taking shape in that slow-moving mind of his. "oh, no, bumpus! you don't get that compass this time," asserted the tall scout, shaking his head in the negative, while he grinned at bumpus. "you never climbed the tree at all, you know. our little wager is off!" "if i thought you knew--about that pesky cow, giraffe--i'd consider that you played me a low-down trick!" said bumpus, between gasps. giraffe made no reply. perhaps the enormity of his offense had begun to trouble him, because bumpus was such a good-natured fellow, with his sunny blue eyes, and his willing disposition, that it really seemed a shame to take advantage of his confiding nature. so giraffe turned aside, and amused himself by thrusting his hand, containing his own red bandanna, through the openings between the rails of the fence, and tempting the cow to butt at him, when, of course, he would adroitly withdraw from reach in good time. when bumpus had fully recovered his breath, the march was resumed. giraffe loitered behind a bit. he knew from the signs that he was in for what he called a "hauling over the coals" by the patrol leader, and fully expected to see thad drop back to join him. the sooner the unpleasant episode was over with the better--that was giraffe's way of looking at it, and he was really inviting thad to hurry up and get the scolding out of his system. sure enough, presently thad dropped back and joined him. looking up out of the tail of his eye, giraffe saw that the other was observing him severely. he fully expected to hear something unpleasant about the duty one scout ought to assume toward his fellows. to his surprise thad started on another tack entirely. "i want to tell you a little story i read the other day, giraffe," he said quietly, "and, if the shoe fits, you can put it on." "all right, thad; you know i like to hear stories first rate," mumbled giraffe, glad at least that the others of the party were far enough ahead so that none of them could hear what passed between himself and the patrol leader. "i think," began thad, "it was told to illustrate the old saying that 'curses, like chickens, come home to roost.' the lecturer went on to say that when a boy throws a rubber ball against a wall it bounds back, and, unless he is careful, it's apt to take him in the eye; and that's the way everything we do comes back to us some time or other." "sure thing it does; and p'raps some day i expect bumpus will be getting one over on me to pay the score," admitted giraffe; but thad did not pay any attention to what he said, only went on with his story. "there was once a boy, a thoughtless boy, with a little cruel streak in his make-up, who always wanted to find a chance for a good laugh, without thinking of what pain he might be causing others," thad went on, at which giraffe winced, for the shaft went home. "one day he was playing on a hillside with their big dog, rover. he would roll a stone down the hill, and rover would obediently run after it, and bring it back. he seemed to be enjoying the sport as much as the boy. "then all at once the boy discovered a big hornet's nest almost a foot in diameter, hanging low down on a bush. he saw a chance to have a great lark. he would roll a stone so as to hit the nest, and send rover after it. then the hornets would come raging out, and it would be such a lark to see them chasing poor rover down the hill. "well, the stone he rolled went true to the mark, and came slam against the hornet's nest. rover was in full pursuit, and he banged up against it, too. out came a black swarm of furious hornets, and of course they tackled poor rover like everything. "the boy up on the hill laughed until he nearly doubled up, to hear rover yelp, and whirl around this way and that. he thought he had never had such a bully time in all his life as just then. rover was a fine dog, and the boy thought just heaps of him; but then it was so comical to see how he twisted, and bit at himself, and he howled so fiercely, too, that the boy could hardly get his breath for laughing. "but all at once he saw to his alarm that poor rover, unable to help himself, was running up the hill straight to his master, as though thinking that the boy could save him. then the boy stopped laughing. it didn't seem so funny then. and, giraffe, inside of ten seconds there was a boy running madly down the hill, fighting a thousand mad hornets that stung him everywhere, and set him to yelling as if he were half crazy. when he got home finally, and saw his swollen face in the glass, and felt rover licking his hand as if the good fellow did not dream that his master had betrayed him so meanly, what do you suppose that boy said to himself, if he had any conscience at all?" giraffe looked up. he was as red in the face as any turkey that ever strutted and gobbled. giraffe at least had a conscience, as his words proved beyond any doubt. "served him right, thad; that's what i say! and i thank you for telling me that story. it's a hummer, all right, and i won't ever forget it, either, i promise you. it _was_ a cruel joke, and some time i'm going to make up for playing it. that's all i want to say, thad." and the wise patrol leader, knowing that it would do giraffe a lot more good to commune with himself just then, rather than to be taken to task any further, walked away, to rejoin allan, who was at the head of the expedition. nor did giraffe make any effort to hasten his footsteps so as to catch up with the rest, until quite some little time had elapsed. chapter v. the camp in the haymow. "there's a farmhouse over yonder, thad; and night's coming on pretty fast now!" called out davy jones later on, after the expedition had covered several more miles of ground, and seemed to be descending an incline that would very likely shortly take them to the bank of the winding susquehanna. "i hope we decide to bunk in a haymow, and not out in the open to-night," added step hen. "not having any tents along makes it a poor business trying to keep off the rain, if she should drop in on us. how about it, thad?" "i reckon, suh, we're all of one mind there," remarked bob white. "just as you say, boys," thad announced. "we'll turn in here, and see if the farmer will allow us to camp in his barnyard." "and mebbe he might sell us a couple of fat chickens, and some fresh milk or cream to go with our coffee. that would be about as fine as silk, i'm telling you," and giraffe, who had rejoined his comrades, looking just the same as ever, rubbed his stomach as he said this, by that means implying that the prospect pleased him even more than words could tell. accordingly the line of march was changed. they abandoned the road, and started up the lane that led to the farmhouse. a watchdog began barking furiously, and at the sound several people came out of the house, and the big barn as well; so that while the scouts had clustered a little closer together, as though wishing to be ready for an attack, they knew there was now nothing to fear. three minutes later and they were talking with the grizzled farmer, his good wife, a couple of girls, and the stout young hired help named hiram, all of whom were fairly dazzled by the sight of eight khaki-clad young fellows, some of whom carried shotguns, grouped in their dooryard. thad explained that they were a patrol of boy scouts from cranford, on a hike, and not having tents along with them, made bold to ask the farmer if they might sleep in his haymow, and cook their supper in the open space before the barns. there was something inviting about thad brewster's manner that drew most people toward him. that same farmer might have been tempted to say no under ordinary conditions, for he looked like a severe man; but somehow he was quite captivated by the manly appearance of these lads. besides, he had doubtless read considerable about the activities of the scouts, and felt that the chance of hearing something concerning them at first hand was too good to be lost. "i ain't got the least objection to you boys sleeping in my hay, if you promise me not to light matches, or do any smokin' there," he said. "i'll look out for that, sir," replied thad promptly, "and we all promise you that there will be no damage done from our staying over. we will want to make a cooking fire somewhere, but it can be done at a safe distance from the barn, and to leeward, so that any sparks will go the other way." "and if so be you could spare us a couple of chickens, mister," put in giraffe, "we'd be glad to pay you the full market price; as also for any milk or cream or eggs you'd let us have." "oh! you can fix that with the missus," returned the farmer; "she runs that end of the farm. i look after the crops and the stock. now, if you wanted a four-hundred-pound pig i've got a beauty to offer you." "thanks, awfully," returned step hen quickly, giving giraffe, who was a big eater, a meaning look; "but i reckon we're well supplied in that way already." arrangements were quickly made with the farmer's wife, and under charge of the willing hiram, who never could get over staring at the uniforms of the scouts with envy in his pale eyes, some of the boys gave chase to a couple of ambitious young roosters that were trying their first crow on a nearby fence, finally capturing and beheading the same. thad meanwhile accompanied the good woman to her dairy, and returned with a brimming bucket of morning's milk, as well as a pitcher of the thickest yellow cream any of them had ever gazed upon. the girls brought out some fresh eggs, and altogether the sight of so much riches caused giraffe to smile all over. giraffe was the acknowledged leader when it came to making fires, and that duty as a rule devolved upon him. he had made a particular study of the art, and in pursuing his hobby to the limits was able to get fire at his pleasure, whether he had a match or not. and in more than a few times in the past this knowledge had proved very useful to the tall scout, as the record in previous stories concerning the doings of the silver fox patrol will explain. accordingly giraffe had chosen to make a neat little fireplace out of smooth blocks of stone which happened to lie handy. this he had built at the spot selected by thad as perfectly safe; for what little wind there was would blow the sparks in a direction where they could do no possible damage. when hiram came back he forgot all about any chores that might be waiting. never before had he been given such a glorious chance to witness the smart doings of boy scouts. he observed everything giraffe did when he made that cunning little out-of-doors cooking range, and noted that while the double row of stones spread wide apart at one end, just so the big frying pan would set across, they drew much closer at the other terminus, like the letter v, so that the coffee pot could be laid there without spilling. then giraffe started his fire. hiram noticed how he picked certain kinds of wood from the abundant supply over at the chopping block. giraffe liked to be in the lime light; and he was also an accommodating chap. he saw that the farmhand was intensely interested, as well as quite green at all such things; but the fact of his "wanting to know" was enough to start the scout to imparting information. so he told hiram how certain kinds of wood are more suitable for cooking purposes, since they make a fierce heat, and leave red ashes that hold for a long time; and it is over such a bed that the best cooking can be done, and not when there is more or less flame and smoke to interfere. allan and davy had been very busy plucking the fowls during this time, while bumpus busied himself getting some fresh water from the well near by, and fixing the coffee ready to go on the fire when giraffe gave the word that he was prepared. one of the girls brought a loaf of fresh homemade bread, and a roll of genuine country butter that was as sweet as could be. fancy with what impatience those boys waited while supper was being cooked. the odors that arose when the cut-up chicken was browning in the pan along with some slices of salt pork, and the coffee steaming on one of the stones alongside the fire, made a combination that fairly set several of the fellows wild, so that they had to walk away in order to control themselves. finally the welcome signal was given by bumpus, and never had those silver notes of the "assembly" sounded sweeter in mortal ears than they did that night in the barnyard of that susquehanna farm, with the eight khaki-clad scouts sitting on logs, and any other thing that offered, and every inmate of the farmhouse gathered near by to watch operations. they had a feast indeed, and there was plenty for every one and to spare. indeed, hiram had accepted the invitation of giraffe to hold off supper, and join them, and the big fellow seemed to be enjoying his novel experience vastly, if one could judge from the broad grin that never once left his rosy face. after the meal was over they found seats, and as the fire sparkled and crackled merrily thad told them all that he possibly could about the aims and ambitions of the scout movement. he found a very attentive and appreciative audience; and it was possible that seeds were planted in the mind of hiram on that occasion calculated to bear more or less good fruit later on in his life. of course thad had to explain to some extent why they were so far away from home, and this necessitated relating the story about the old army overcoat that had been turned over to a tramp through the desire of the judge's second wife to get rid of it. thad of course only went so far as to say that the judge mourned the loss of an article which he really valued highly on account of its association with his only son's army life years before; and he made out such a strong case that those who heard the story could easily understand why the gentleman should wish to recover the garment again, if it were possible. none of them could remember having seen any party wearing such a coat; and it would seem that if the hobo had passed along that way, he might have applied at the farmhouse for a meal, though the presence of the dog usually deterred those of his kind from bothering the good farm wife. "guess they've got the chalk mark on your gate post, mister," commented step hen, when he heard this; "i've been told these hoboes leave signs all along the way for the next comer to read. some places they say are good for a square meal; then at another place you want to look sharp, for the farmer's wife will ring pies on you that are guaranteed to break off a tooth in trying to bite 'em. now, like as not there's a sign on your post that says: 'beware of the dog; he's a holy terror!'" "i hope there is," replied the farmer; "and if i knew what it was i'd see it got on every post i own, for if there's one thing i hate it's a tramp. i've had my chickens stolen, my hogs poisoned, and my haymow out in the pasture burned twice by some of that worthless lot. they kind of know me by now, and that i ain't to be trifled with." the evening passed all too quickly; and when step hen happened to mention that bumpus was the possessor of a beautiful soprano voice of course the country girls insisted that he entertain them. bumpus, as has been remarked before, was an accommodating fellow, and he allowed himself to be coaxed to sing one song after another, with all of them joining in the chorus, until he was too hoarse to keep it up. then they spied his lovely silver-plated bugle, and nothing would do but he must sound all the army calls he knew, which added to the enjoyment considerably. taken in all, that was the most novel entertainment any of them had ever experienced; and especially those who lived in the lonely farmhouse. it must have been a tremendous and pleasant break in the monotony that usually hangs like a pall upon all farm work. no wonder, thad thought, all of them looked so happy when they were bidding the boys good night, and admitted that they had enjoyed the coming of the expedition greatly. hiram could not be "pried loose," as giraffe said. he insisted on seeing all he could of these new and remarkable friends, and had announced his intention of accompanying the scouts to the hay, and sleeping near them. no one offered the least objection. indeed, by this time, after such an exhausting march as they had been through since sun-up, all of them were pretty tired, and their one thought was to snuggle down in the hay, with their blankets wrapped around them, and get some sleep. "still cloudy and threatening," remarked allen, as he and thad took a last look around ere turning in. "yes, it's holding off in a queer way," replied the other, "but when it does hit us, look out for a downpour. i'd be glad if we ran on that wandering george before the rain starts in, because it'll be hard getting around when the whole country is soaked and afloat." "i'm told the river is already close to flood stage, owing to so much snow melting at headwaters," observed allan. "yes, we had an unusual lot last winter, you remember; and when the weather turned actually hot a few days back it must have started the snow melting at a furious rate. if we get a hard rain now there'll be a whopping big flood all along the susquehanna this spring." "everything seems all right around here, doesn't it?" asked allan, as he bent down over giraffe's fireplace, with the caution of a hunter who knew how necessary it always is to see that no glowing embers have been forgotten that a sudden wind could carry off to cause a disastrous conflagration. "i saw giraffe throw some water over the coals," remarked thad. "he loves a fire better than anyone i know, but you never find him neglecting to take the proper precautions. yes, it's cold to the touch. let's hunt a place to bunk for the night, allan. with our blankets, a bed in the soft hay ought to feel just prime." nine of them burrowed into the big haymow, with all sorts of merry remarks, and a flow of boyish badinage. finally they began to get settled in their various nooks and the talking died down until in the end no one said a single word, and already bumpus and perhaps several others began to breathe heavily, thus betraying the fact that they had passed over the border of dreamland. thad of course had more to think about than most of his mates, because, as the patrol leader, and head of the present expedition, he found problems to study out that did not present themselves to such happy-go-lucky fellows as bumpus, step hen, davy, and perhaps giraffe. so thad lay there for quite some time, thinking, and trying to lay out some plan of campaign to be followed in case the expected rain did strike them before they came up with the fugitive tramp. it was very comfortable, and the hay was sweet-smelling, so that even the fastidious smithy had not been heard to utter the least complaint, but had burrowed with the rest. possibly he may have swathed his face, as well as his body, in the folds of his blanket, in order to prevent any roving spider from carrying out the gypsy's evil prophecy; but if so no one knew it, since all of them but allan and thad had made separate burrows. the young scout master remembered that his thoughts became confused, and then he lost his grip on things. it seemed to him that his dreams must be wonderfully vivid, for as he suddenly struggled up to a sitting position he could fancy that he heard some one calling at the top of his voice. then shrill screams in girlish tones added to the clamor. "what's that mean, thad?" demanded allan, as he clutched the arm of his chum, at the same time sitting up. "i don't know," replied thad shortly. "there must be something wrong up at the farmhouse. the other fellows are stirring now, so let's crawl out of this in a big hurry, allan!" both scouts made all haste to escape from the tunnel under the hay, kicking their way to freedom. no sooner had they gained their feet than they started out of the barn, for the haymow was under the shelter of a roof. only too well did thad know what was the matter, when he burst from the door of the barn, and saw that the darkness of the night was split by a glare from up in the direction of the farmhouse on the rise. through the bare branches of the trees he could see tongues of flames. "the house is on fire, allan!" he shouted. "we must get all the boys out, and do what we can to fight the flames. hi! everybody on deck--giraffe, step hen, davy, and the rest of you, hurry out here and lend a hand! you're wanted, and wanted badly into the bargain!" chapter vi. scouts to the rescue. feeling sure that the rest of the scouts, as well as hiram, the overgrown country boy who worked on the farm, would be along shortly, thad and allan seized upon a couple of buckets, filled them at the watering trough near by, and hastened toward the burning building. the farmer, partly dressed, was doing valiant work already, and his wife kept up a constant pounding of the pump, filling buckets as fast as the man of the house emptied them. when the two scouts got to work things began to look more hopeful, though with the flames making such rapid headway it promised to be a hard fight to win out. thad wondered why the fire should have gained such a tremendous headway, but later on the mystery was explained, and he understood the reason. when kerosene is dashed around it offers splendid food for fire, once the flame is applied. now came all of the other fellows, eager to lend a helping hand. the farmer had been neighborly and kind, and his folks had helped to make a pleasant night for their unexpected but nevertheless welcome guests, and on this account alone thad and his chums felt that they must do all in their power to save the house. then again they were scouts, and as such had cheerfully promised to always assist those in trouble, whether friends, strangers, or even enemies. they found all manner of vessels capable of holding more or less water. bumpus even manipulated a footbath, although on one or two occasions he had to stumble as usual, and came very near being drowned in consequence, since he deluged himself from head to foot with the contents. when such a constant stream of water was being poured upon the fire it could not make much headway. "keep her going!" yelped giraffe, whose long legs allowed him to make more frequent trips back and forth than any of the others; "we've got her at a standstill now, and the next thing you know she'll cave under. more water this way! everybody's doing it! hi! bumpus, don't upset that ocean over me; it's the fire that wants putting out, not me. whee! look at that, would you; he smothered it with that deluge. bully for you, bumpus! do it some more, boy! you're sure a brick!" they worked like beavers, every fellow acting as though the success of the undertaking depended wholly upon his individual efforts. when the good woman fell back, completely exhausted with her efforts, the two girls nobly responded to the call, and pumped away as only sturdy country lassies could, filling the buckets that came their way as speedily as possible. it was very lively while it lasted, and none of those who took part in that midnight battle with the devouring element would soon forget their exciting experience. the fire seemed to be confined to the room in which it had started, so that the damage would not be extended, which was one satisfaction at least. to the boys it was next door to a picnic. they just gloried in participating in such an exciting event as this, and some of them may even have felt a little disappointment because the battle with the devouring element promised to be of such short duration, though of course that did not mean they would have been glad to have seen further disaster overtake their friend the farmer. thad and allan would not allow anyone to relax their efforts in the slightest degree, even when it became positive that they were quickly putting out the last of the fire. until every spark had been properly extinguished there must lie no stoppage to the good work. a fire is only put out when there is no longer any danger of its awakening to new life when one's back is turned. finally the work was done, and they could rest themselves. the man had gone into the kitchen and started a blaze in the stove there, for the night air seemed chilly, and none of them was dressed any too warmly. "well, this old tramp promises to make a new record along the line of excitement for our crowd, and that's a fact!" declared step hen, as he took a drink of cold water, for his recent exertions had "warmed him up inside," he remarked. "i should remark it did," added giraffe; "and who can say what lies ahead of us yet? one thing follows another like a procession. but i'm glad we happened to be here at the right time, so we could help save the farmhouse. these people have been mighty kind to us, and it's nice to be able to pay 'em back." "say, thad, i hope now _we_ didn't have anything to do with that fire?" remarked davy, who lowered his voice as he spoke, as though unwilling to have anyone outside of his comrades hear what he said. "well, i reckon we had a heap to do with extinguishing the same, anyhow," giraffe told him; "but what do you mean, davy? don't act so mysterious, but blurt it out." "are you sure you didn't leave any fire where you cooked supper, giraffe, that could have been scooped up by the rising wind, and carried to the house up here? that's what's bothering me." "don't let it worry you a whit any longer then," thad told him promptly; "because allan and i made sure to examine the fireplace, and we found that giraffe, like a true scout, had thrown water on the last spark. it was cold and dead. so you see, davy, we couldn't have had anything to do with its starting." "then what happened?" asked smithy, who evidently did not know that he had a ridiculous long black smooch down one side of his face, or he would not have looked so well satisfied, because smithy still cared a great deal for his personal appearance, and sometimes even brushed his hair on the sly when in camp. "we'll have to find that out from the farmer," said thad. they looked in the kitchen where the owner of the house had last been seen, but he was not there. just then they heard him calling them. "come in here, boys!" he kept saying; and presently they located the voice as coming from the living room, where the fire had been confined, thanks to their energetic labors. as they pushed in there they saw that it was pretty much of a wreck; but as the farmer's wife had already told thad they were fully insured, the result would be more of an inconvenience, and the loss of family treasures, than any great amount of pecuniary damage. the farmer was standing at an old desk that was part bookcase. it had somehow managed to escape the flames that came upon most of the contents of the sitting-room. "they got my little pile, all right," he started to say, as the scouts crowded into the damaged and blackened room, now several inches deep with water; "but i'm glad it wasn't very much. if this had happened three weeks ago i'd have stood to lose several thousand dollars, because i sold a patch of land, and had the cash overnight in this same desk, though i banked it next day." thad was immediately deeply interested. he saw in these significant words of the farmer an explanation of the mystery as to how the fire could have started. "do you mean to tell us that you have been robbed, sir?" he asked; and the old man nodded his head. "i woke up, and thought i heard the low sound of voices downstairs here," he went on to explain; "so i got out of bed, after waking nancy, picked up my gun, and came down the stairs. they creak like all get-out, and must 'a' told the scamps somebody was coming. just as i got to the door i saw two men by the desk here, that they had forced open; and i guess they'd copped my little roll of bills about that time. well, i was struck dumb at the sight at first, and then i remembered my gun; but before i could swing it up to my shoulder one of them swept the lighted lamp from the table to the floor. "the flash that came blinded me, and i forgot all about the robbers in thinking about saving my house. then nancy she came down, and we got busy. all at once i remembered you boys in the barn, and hiram, and i started to yellin' at the top of my voice, but pitchin' water all the while. that's how the fire started, you see; and we're sure beholdin' a heap to you boys for helpin' put it out as smart as we did. it looks tough, for a fact, but sho! it might 'a' been heaps worse." "but the dog--what d'ye reckon they could have done to him?" asked giraffe. "it might be they pizened toby," replied the farmer; "i wouldn't put it past that tough pair to do anything. but chances are the dog's off to the woods huntin' rabbits. he often runs away like that and stays all night long. if i tie him up he barks enough to set us crazy. i'll have to get rid of him, and find a better watchdog." "well, things are getting warmer right along, ain't they?" step hen wanted to know. "a fire was bad enough, but when you find out that it was started by thieves, and that they actually robbed the house first, it gets more and more exciting. now the silver fox patrol has done something along lines like that before; and mebbe we might again, given half a fair chance." "i suppose the two men didn't wait to see what happened after they had knocked the lamp over, and the flames shot up?" remarked allan, thoughtfully; and the farmer was quick to reply. "they cleared out in a big hurry, because i didn't see anything more of the pair," he admitted. "but then they got what they came after, and that satisfied the rascals. and i don't reckon there's a single chance in ten i'll ever recover that fifty dollars, barring twenty cents, that i got for the last two loads of hay i took into town. but then my house is left, and we'll get some insurance to pay for repairs, so i'm not complaining. there's only one thing that makes me mad." "what was that, mr. bailey?" asked davy, deeply interested. "that i was so stunned at sight of them fellers robbin' my desk i forgot i had an old civil war musket in my hands. i had ought to've let fly, and knocked one of the pizen critters silly. i'll never forgive myself for bein' so slow to act." thad had his own ideas about that. had the farmer fired that long-barreled musket at such close range he would possibly have killed one of the men; and whether such a tragedy would have been justified under the circumstances was and must remain an open question. if his life had been threatened of course the farmer would have done right to defend himself to the utmost; but thad believed that had it been him he would have allowed the men to get some distance away before sending a load of shot at them, his object being to wound and not slay. it was certainly good, however, to find that mr. bailey took things so philosophically all around. some men would have been bewailing their misfortune, and never once seeing how much they had to be thankful for. "do you think you would know either or both of them again if you happened to set eyes on them, sir?" asked the patrol leader, with an object in view. "i saw them faces as plain as i do yours, my boy," responded the farmer, soberly, "and i'm dead sartin i'd know 'em again. why--whatever am i thinkin' about, to be sure? say, you boys ought to know that you've got nigh as much interest in findin' them tramps as i feel. you wonder why i say that, do you? i'll explain it to you in a jiffy. listen then. one of the thieves had red hair, and he was wearin' an old faded blue army coat with red lining in it. that's why!" it seemed as though every one of those eight scouts drew a deep breath that had the sound of a sigh. they looked at one another, at first with wonder in their faces, and then giraffe was heard to give vent to what he intended should be a joyous chuckle. the sound was contagious, for immediately broad smiles began to appear here and there, and there was a general hand-shaking as though the news were deemed important enough to make them congratulate each other. it was a fact calculated to make them feel that the long chase had not been useless, when they thus learned so suddenly that the man they hunted had been almost in their power half an hour before. chapter vii. on the river road. "well, wouldn't that give you a heart-ache, now?" remarked giraffe, making a wry face, as he looked at his seven mates. "just to think of it!" exclaimed bumpus, "we were all sleeping sweetly like babes in the woods, out there in the hay, while our game passed us by. a healthy lot of scouts we seem like, don't we? when people hear of this they'll vote us a leather medal. always on guard, hey? never letting a single thing worth while slipping through our fingers? oh! my stars, somebody fan me!" thad laughed at the fat scout. "i wouldn't feel so bad if i were you, bumpus," he remonstrated; "there's nothing on us that i can see. this happened to be an accident that we couldn't help. how were we to guess that the man we came after would drop in here and rob the farmer? the fortunes of war, bumpus. besides, it gives us a pointer. we know now that wandering george isn't far ahead of us; and we're going to catch up with him before a great while." "that's the way to talk, thad!" commented step hen. "we never give up when we get started on a game. keeping everlastingly at it is what wins most of all. george was kind to leave his card behind him; and in the morning we'll start out fresh on the trail." it would appear from this that none of the others felt at all depressed because of the strange happening; and realizing this even bumpus was soon looking satisfied again. the farmer declared he would not try to sleep any more that night, but as for the scouts they could see no reason why anyone else should follow his example, when that sweet hay called so loudly. the consequence was that before long there was an exodus to the barn, for since the small hours of the morning had come the air was decidedly cool, and none of them felt comfortable. nothing more developed during the remainder of that night, and the first thing some of the sleepers knew they were hearing the bugle sounding the reveille. bumpus had been aroused by allan poking him in the ribs, and telling him it was sun-up; for somehow the two had bored into the hay together the second time. giraffe attended to the fire, as usual, and as everybody wanted to get warm there was no lack of cooks. the work of the farm had started long before, and already the girls were coming in with full buckets of new milk; while the cackling of many hens announced that the biddies were giving an account of themselves. as the boys gathered around and started to partake of their breakfast the farmer and his family poured out of the house bearing all manner of additions to the menu, even to a couple of apple pies, which seems to be a standard early morning dish in the country along the susquehanna, even as doughnuts are in new england. of course the boys fared like kings, and would not soon forget that splendid breakfast. when they packed their kits ready to make a fresh start, the girls insisted on pressing various little additions to their larder upon them, so that what with the apples, cookies, and the like, some of the boys could hardly manage to strap up their haversacks. and there was hiram looking so forlorn over their going that thad took pity on the poor fellow. "i'm going to remember you, hiram," he told the farmhand, as he squeezed his big hand warmly, "and after we get home i'll send you a bunch of reading matter in connection with this scout movement, as well as several cracking good books that have been written covering the activities of our silver fox patrol." "gosh! i hope yeou do that same!" ejaculated hiram, brightening up; "'cause i'm jest bustin' to larn all about it. i'd give a heap if i ever hed a chanct to wear a suit like them be, an' camp out in the woods. i hearn thar be a troop o' scouts a-formin' over in hicksville, an' by jinks i'm a-goin' to put in a application, as sure's my name's hiram spinks!" "i hope you do, hiram," the patrol leader told him, "and if i can do anything at any time to help out, let me know. first of all i'm going to mail you an extra handbook or boy scout manual i've got knocking around home; and if you're feeling a touch of the fever now, that's guaranteed to give it to you ten times worse." so they said good-by to the hospitable farmer and his family, none of whom would accept a single cent in return for what they had done for the scouts. indeed, they vehemently declared they were heavily in the boys' debt on account of their having helped save the farmhouse after it had been set on fire by the action of the hobo thieves, surprised at their work of robbing the farmer's desk. thad had been off somewhere while the rest were finishing their packing. when he came back allan, who noticed the expression on the face of the patrol leader, guessed he must have met with a certain amount of success. apparently he knew what the other had started out to find; at least his first remark made it look that way. "well, was it there, thad?" he observed. "as plain as print," came the immediate reply, accompanied with a smile of satisfaction, such as a fellow may assume when he is in a position to say "i told you so!" "that is, the track of a broken shoe which has the sole held in place by a rag bound about it, hobo fashion?" continued allan. "yes, and belonging to the right foot at that, just as we learned long ago was the case with wandering george," thad continued. "where did you run across the trail?" questioned allan. "i'll show you when we're leaving here," he was told. "it's so plain even a tenderfoot couldn't miss seeing the same. and when the road is reached you can follow it for some little distance." "toward the river, thad?" "yes, in an easterly direction," answered the leader of the patrol; "and that just suits us right up to the notch, you know. but the boys are ready to start, so we'd better be hiking out." the last they saw of the farmer and his family the two girls were waving their sun-bonnets wildly, while the older people contented themselves with making use of their hands. this little visit of the scouts had made a very enjoyable break in the monotony of their lives, and would not be soon forgotten. as for hiram, he had received permission to accompany the boys for a mile along the road; though thad had solemnly promised the farmer to send him back in due time, for there were daily chores to be looked after that could not be neglected. while some of the others, notably bumpus and smithy and davy, were paying attention to answering the fervent signals of the jolly country girls, thad was showing allan, giraffe, bob white and step hen the plain impression of the marked shoe belonging, as they very well knew, to the particular tramp whom they were so anxious to overtake. how hiram did listen eagerly to every word that was uttered, and even got down on his hands and knees to scrutinize that impression. he had of course hunted at times, as every country boy does, and shot his quota of small game like rabbits, squirrels, quail and woodcock; yet knew next to nothing concerning the real delights of woodcraft. but the seed had taken root in hiram's soul, and would sprout from that time on. the coming of these scouts had aroused an ambition within him, and he could never again be the same contented plodder that he had seemed to be in the past. down the road the boys walked at a brisk pace, chatting and joking as they went on. those in the van of course had the task of keeping in touch with the tracks and every once in a while they made sure that these could still be discovered in the rather soft soil alongside the road. when the mile had been passed and more thad reminded hiram of his promise, and in turn every scout pressed the big fellow's hard hand warmly. so they passed out of hiram's life; but the result of his meeting these wide-awake scouts was destined to mark an epoch in the career of that country boy, a turning point in his destiny as it were. the day was another gloomy one. it seemed as though nature might be frowning her worst, and giving all sorts of portentous signs concerning what was coming before long. if anything the damp feeling in the air had grown more pronounced than before, which would indicate to a weather prophet the approach of wet weather. it takes considerable to dampen the enthusiasm of lively scouts, however; and as the morning crept along they continued to make merry as they plodded on their way. it was about eleven o'clock when a shout from giraffe in the front announced a discovery of some moment. trust "old eagle eye" for finding out things ahead of others; he was not gifted with that keenness of vision for nothing. "what is it, the river at last?" called bumpus, between puffs, for the pace was fast enough to make the stout scout breathe hard. "that's what it is, as sure as you live!" exclaimed step hen. "and let me tell you, suh, she looks mighty fine to me," remarked bob white, who was particularly fond of the water, and a good boatman as well as canoeist. "whew! strikes me the old susquehanna must be on a tear already!" came from bumpus, as he caught his first glimpse of the wide expanse of flowing water. "it is pretty high for a fact!" smithy admitted; "i'm somewhat familiar with the river, because i visited here several summers; and i never saw so much water running down between its banks." the road they were following, upon drawing near the river, turned sharply to the south. after that the boys knew they must be within reaching distance of the water as long as they kept to that thoroughfare; though of course should they learn, through the tracks they followed, that the hobo wearing the old army coat had taken to a side path they would be compelled to do the same. occasionally they came to an isolated house, and once passed through a small hamlet; but made sure to find the trail beyond, showing that wandering george had safely navigated through the outpost of civilization, and not been locked up. in fact, thad was of the opinion that the pair of nomads must have circled around the village on general principles. after having been discovered in the act of robbing the farmer's home bank they may have feared arrest; and while one hid in the thickets the other possibly ventured into the village in order to purchase supplies, principally strong drink at the tavern. no matter what their tactics may have been, the pair still held to the river road, and that was sufficient for the scouts who followed the trail. "what do you make of it, thad?" asked giraffe, after he had seen the leader and allan closely examining a pretty fair footprint left by the tramp; "and are we a long ways behind right now?" "it isn't an easy thing to say," he was told, "because we haven't much to go by, you see, and have to figure it out on general principles; but we've concluded that this print is about two hours old; and that the men are taking it fairly easy as tramps walk." "every once in so often they stop, and sit down on a log that looks inviting, as you see they did here," allan added, pointing as he spoke. "we figure they must have invested some of the stolen money in whisky at that village tavern, and that every time they stop they indulge themselves in a good swig." "just what they do, allan!" announced step hen, who had been aimlessly prowling around on the border of the road back of the log where the tramps had rested; "see here what i've picked up. that flask must have held a full pint, and it's been drained to the last drop. more where that came from; and chances are before long we may run across our men sprawled out in the bushes in a drunken sleep." "well, as most tramps can soak in any amount of bug juice without showing signs of it," giraffe ventured, "you mustn't count too heavy on that same; though it'd be a bully good thing for us, as we could get back the judge's blue overcoat without any row. the question is, ought we to arrest the hoboes on account of what they did up at bailey's farm?" "we won't cross that river till we come to it, giraffe," laughed thad; but all the same some of the scouts felt positive their leader had his plan of campaign mapped out already, because that was his invariable rule, so as not to be taken unawares. another half hour passed. just ahead of them was a small cabin between the road and the river. a fenced-in patch showed where the occupants managed to have a little garden in season. "what ails that woman standing there and calling out, d'ye suppose?" remarked step hen, as they were passing the cottage. "she seems to be bothered some, if you can judge by the way she waves her hands, and keeps on beckoning," giraffe went on to say, becoming interested. "she's facing out on the river, too, you notice. now, i wouldn't be surprised if she's got a cub of a boy who's gone out further than he ought to on the swift current in some tub of a boat, and she's trying to make him come ashore. there, didn't you hear her yell to johnny to come back at once? and here's where the bushes end, so we can see for ourselves." it turned out that giraffe was correct, for there was a makeshift of a boat out on the current of the river, containing a boy who was clumsily trying to turn its head in the direction of the shore. the obstructions in the susquehanna make it a very treacherous stream, with eddies and stealthy currents that take one unawares, and "johnny" was making a sorry mess of his work, thad saw at a glance. "he's apt to get upset if he doesn't take care!" exclaimed bob white, who knew the signs all too well. the woman kept shouting and no doubt this distracted the boy more or less, causing him to lose his head. in fact he did just what he should never have done; for when the bow of his boat ran up on a partly submerged rock he let go the oars, picked one up, and rising to his feet stepped forward to push the craft off again. "sit down!" shouted thad, between his hands; but if the boy heard he gave no sign of obeying, his one thought being to push his oar against the obstruction, and get the boat moving free again. then came a shriek from the poor mother. the current had got in its treacherous work, just as thad and some of his chums had expected would be the case. "he's gone in, and the boat turned turtle!" cried step hen, aghast. "help! oh! somebody save my poor johnny, because he can't swim a stroke!" shrieked the woman, wringing her hands, and appealing to the detachment of scouts, of whose presence near the spot of the tragedy she had just become aware. chapter viii. useful knowledge. that was a time for rapid action, and not talk. no one knew this better than the leader of the silver fox patrol. at the same time, if he wished to render assistance to the imperiled lad it was necessary that he give a few quick directions to his chums, so they could all work together toward that end. "allan, the rest of you hurry along and get below! giraffe, back me up, will you? i know what you can do in cold water. we've just _got_ to save that boy, and that's all there is to it. come along, giraffe." the tall scout never hesitated for even a single second. he understood that it would be necessary for both of them to plunge into that flood of water, cold from the melting snows further toward the source of the river; but giraffe was known for his boldness, and a little thing like that could not frighten him. why, on one occasion he had plunged into a burning woods, and performed prodigies of valor; what was an ice-water bath to him but a little episode? both boys as they hurried toward the brink of the river commenced to shed their outer garments, having discarded other impedimenta like their haversacks the first thing. in this way thad knew he would be "killing two birds with one stone," for they must be impeded with clinging clothes when swimming; and after they came out it was bound to feel very cold, so that these dry garments must come in handy. "jump in here, giraffe, and i'll drop down a little further!" he shouted, as the two of them came upon the river bank. a quick look out on the rolling current had shown him how affairs stood just then. he saw that the frantic boy was clinging to the overturned boat, which was swirling around in the eddies, and swinging downstream at quite a rapid rate. he lost his grip even as thad looked, and the heart of the scout seemed to leap into his throat with dread. then the boy somehow managed to regain his hold, but he seemed to be so excited and frightened that there was danger of his slipping away again at any second; and being weakened by exposure the chances of his once more recovering his slender hold could not be worth much. thad did not waste a single second. he was hurrying along even when taking this look toward the scene of the catastrophe and figuring just where to jump into the water at the same time. in deciding this he had to take into consideration the length of time that might ensue before he could expect to push out to where the overturned boat was going to pass; also the strength of the current that was bringing the wreck down toward him. although the water felt like ice when he started in thad did not allow that fact to bother him a particle. he shot a glance upstream, and saw that already giraffe had reached deep water so that he was compelled to swim. the sight of him buffeting the waves gave thad considerable satisfaction; though he feared that the boy clinging to the slippery bottom of the boat might disappear before either of the intended rescuers could reach him. meanwhile the other six scouts had started on a run down the road, it being the intention of allan to have them where they could render assistance in getting the others ashore, because those in the water would likely be exhausted, even if all went well. then thad reached a "step-off" and plunging in over his head was compelled to swim for it, which he did right valiantly, constantly keeping tabs on the oncoming boat, and still hoping that the boy might maintain his hold until either giraffe or himself could lend a helping hand. all at once he felt a chill that was not caused by the icy water, for the poor fellow had again slipped back into the churning water. but thad and giraffe were closing in on him, with the latter in a position to glimpse the still struggling lad ere he finally went down. with the crisis upon him thad dived, while giraffe started to tread water, and hold himself in readiness to help should his chum meet with any success. it seemed an interminable time to the lengthy scout before he saw thad reappear. at first he feared the patrol leader must have missed connections with the drowning boy; and then he made the pleasing discovery to the contrary, for thad was gripping johnny tightly with one arm, as he swam with the other. giraffe shot toward him as fast as he could go, and in another moment the two scouts were putting into practice something that all scouts learn as a part of their preparedness, when trying to rescue a comrade who has been seized with a cramp while swimming--holding the unconscious lad between them, with his head kept well above the water, they started toward the bank, swimming with sturdy and well-regulated strokes. when they drew near enough for one of the others who had waded in up to his waist to reach out a hand, it came easier; and in this way they bore the rescued boy ashore. thad was already shivering with the cold, but he kept his wits about him, and gave such orders as he saw were necessary. allan and several of the other scouts were directed to try and resuscitate the apparently drowned boy; while bumpus and smithy started as big a fire as they could manage, so that all of them might warm up. meanwhile thad and giraffe jumped around, and slapped their arms furiously in the endeavor to get up a good circulation of blood. the poor woman came upon them at this unfortunate moment, while allan kneeling over the wet form of her boy was kneading his chest after the most approved fashion known to life-savers; and a couple of the other fellows were working his arms back and forth above his head as though they gripped pump-handles. "oh! he's dead, my boy johnny is dead!" wailed the mother, starting to throw herself upon the group; when bob white, although full of sympathy for her harrowed feelings, knew that to stop the proceedings just then might end what hope there existed for saving a life. accordingly, he caught her in his arms, and insisted in restraining her, at the same time speaking words of hope and cheer. "you mustn't interfere with them, ma'am," he told her soothingly; "they've got the water out of his lungs, and are trying to start artificial breathing by pumping him that way. there's lots of hope he'll come out all right, because he wasn't under the water long. why, i believe i saw his eyelid flutter right then. yes, suh, it did the same again. it's a fact, and you're bringing him along handsomely, fellows. so you see, ma'am, you're not going to lose johnny after all!" the woman knelt there, awed, and watched the slow recovery of her boy. after a little while he began to breathe naturally; then his eyes opened, and he even made an effort to struggle, possibly being still impressed with the horror of his recent peril. before that time the fire had got to burning splendidly, and both boys who had been in the river crowded as close to the warmth as possible, feeling much better on account of it. thad, too, could think again, and direct his chums what to do. one of them ran to the cabin and came back with a blanket, which was wrapped around the now recovered but shivering johnny; after which step hen and allan assisted the small boy to reach his home, with the rejoicing mother following at their heels, crying now, but with happiness. allan told her just what to do in order that no ill effect, such as pneumonia, should follow the immersion, and she promised to keep him in bed, and give him warm liquid food until he was feeling himself again. when the two scouts turned to leave her the poor woman kissed them both, much to their confusion; for they felt that the thanks were due to thad and giraffe, if anybody, since they were the ones who had risked something in order to save the drowning boy. of course this was going to detain them for perhaps an hour, because those who had been in the water wished to thoroughly dry their clothes, at least such as they had taken with them into the river. both had been wise enough to tear off leggins and shoes before leaving the shore, as swimming would have been next to impossible otherwise; and this counted considerably in their favor now. while they sat around the blaze, waiting until thad gave the signal for another start, the boys thought it wise to make their noonday meal, so they would not have to stop again. of course the talk was pretty much all upon the subject of rescuing persons who were in danger of being drowned; and also of resuscitating those who had been pulled out of the water apparently far gone. thad, as usual, did not let the chance slip to deliver a few telling remarks connected with a knowledge of certain kinds which all scouts are required to attain before they can become shining lights in the profession, or hope to rise to the position of second or first class scouts. "if there's one splendid thing this scout business has done for boys above another," he went on to say, as they sat around the fire, "i think it is the fact that every tenderfoot has to learn how to swim during his first season in camp. how many thousands of lives might have been saved in the past if all boys over eight years of age had been taught how to keep themselves afloat in the water. if the movement had never done a single thing more than that it would deserve to be reckoned the finest thing that ever happened for american youth." "yes," giraffe went on to add, "and think how many a fellow has been saved from drowning, just as little johnny here was, first by being taken from the water, and then in having the spark of life coaxed back. you worked that as fine as anything i ever saw, allan, and the rest of you. thad and me felt so shivery cold i'm afraid we couldn't have done it alone by ourselves. a whole lot of the credit goes to the rest of you, and we want you to know that. it was a patrol rescue, and something the boys of the silver fox can be proud of always." that was just like giraffe, who could be one of the most generous-hearted fellows ever known when he wanted to. that he felt considerable remorse because of his reckless way of sending poor bumpus into that field with the angry mother cow had been patent to thad early that morning, when he saw giraffe asking bumpus to lean on him, after the stout scout had mentioned the fact that he was feeling somewhat stiff following his unusual exertions of the previous day. "according to my notion," step hen broke in with, "no boy should ever be allowed to go out in a boat on the water unless he knows how to swim." "i agree with you there, step hen," the patrol leader added; "and yet how often you see boys taking the greatest kind of chances, when if an upset comes along they're as helpless as babies. that mother has learned a lesson; and chances are johnny never goes in a boat again till he can swim like a fish." "but boys are not the only ones who take such chances," allan argued; "why, in the days gone by when nearly all ships were sailing vessels, and not steamers, it wasn't a strange thing to find dozens of old jack tars who had spent their whole lives at sea, and yet never swam a stroke. it seems queer, and hard to believe, but i've heard men tell that who knew." "things are going to be different after this, then," said davy, "because every boy scout has got to learn how to swim, or he'll stay a tenderfoot all his days; and no one wants to do that, you know." "what happened to the boat; none of you thought to rescue that at the same time?" smithy wanted to know. "oh! it wasn't worth saving," giraffe told him; "and after what happened, johnny's mother would never want to see it again. we had our hands too full getting him to the bank to bother about that cranky old junk. it'll bring up somewhere below, like as not, or else float out on the chesapeake bay around havre de grace, where they used to have such great duck shooting years ago, because of the wild celery beds that grew there." giraffe was fond of hunting, and knew considerable in connection with his favorite sport, which information he delighted to impart to his chums at divers times and on sundry occasions. once upon a time he had been like most thoughtless boys, so intent on filling his gamebag, or catching a record number of fish, that slaughter counted little with him; but after joining the troop giraffe had learned what a true sportsman should be, and since then was never known to inflict needless pain, or destroy game or game fish when they could not be used for food. these numerous useful things which scouts learn have the knack of curbing the half savage instinct that seems to repose within nearly all boys' breasts; and which they say must have descended to them from far-back ancestors. by the time lunch had been dispatched thad and giraffe declared they were as good as new again, since every particle of their clothes had been thoroughly dried. there was a general scrutiny on the part of all hands, so as to make sure nothing had been forgotten in the excitement. thad had sent several of them back over the ground, to pick up every object thrown aside in that mad scramble, from guns and knapsacks to clothes and shoes. outside of a little delay, which they expected would not matter much, they had not suffered in the least because of this sudden and unexpected call upon their services. and to have saved a human life was certainly worth ten times as much as they had done. bumpus at a signal from the leader sounded his bugle, and once more the little detachment of khaki-clad boys started along the river road, headed southeast, and with a positive assurance that the man whom they sought, the hobo wearing the old blue army overcoat, was somewhere ahead of them. in this manner they tramped for several miles, constantly on the lookout for any signs of their quarry. thad frequently searched for the marked footprint, and as often discovered it plainly marked in the yielding mud close to the road; so that they had no fear of overlapping the fugitive. it was about this time that bumpus was heard grumbling to himself. "what's wrong now, bumpus; want a little help on account of that stiff leg?" asked giraffe, turning around. "'taint that," returned the other quickly, as if scorning to show signs of fatigue when the others were capable of keeping up the pace. "well, what are you grunting about, then, tell us?" demanded step hen, who was himself limping a little, because of a pebble that had managed to work into his shoe despite the protecting legging, and hurt his foot before he bothered getting it out. "why, you see," began bumpus naïvely, "it's started to rain at last, that's all!" chapter ix. any port in a storm. "hurrah for bumpus, who's made a first discovery!" exclaimed giraffe, pretending to show great enthusiasm by waving his campaign hat about his head. "well, i don't see that it's anything to laugh at," smithy was heard to remark, with a lugubrious expression on his face; "if it comes down on us while we're on the tramp, and without any sort of protection, we'll soon be all mussed up, and in a nice pickle. i'd be considerably better pleased to have bumpus discover the sun peeping out at us before setting." "what can't be cured must be endured, you know, smithy," thad told the former dandy of the troop, who was every now and then showing traces of his old faults, though he had been cured of numerous shortcomings. "if it rains we'll have to get our rubber ponchos over our shoulders, and then look for a place to spend the night. things are never so bad but what you'll find they could be worse." that indeed was the whole secret of thad's success, and the cheerful spirit he invariably displayed when up against difficulties; and every boy who makes up his mind to look at his troubles in the same hopeful spirit will surely profit from such a course. things are _never_ at their worst, though we may temporarily think so. the few drops that came down did not last and as the scouts continued to push along the river road they kept their eyes on the watch for some valley farm, where they might possibly find shelter against the coming storm. it began to look as though they must have struck a portion of the country where, for some unknown reason, farms were few and far between, which is not often the case along the picturesque susquehanna, since most of the land is under some kind of cultivation. thad even began to fear that as the evening was now close at hand they might be compelled to abandon their hope of finding a house, and use the little time remaining in building some sort of rude shelter. the idea did not appeal very strongly to him, because he knew that if a heavy downpour came upon them it might last for twenty-four hours; and such a primitive camp would prove a dismal refuge indeed, with no fire to cheer them, and dripping trees all around, not to speak of a rapidly rising river. on this account he was determined to keep pushing on until the darkness became too dense to allow further progress. when they found themselves up against such a snag as this it would be time to consider the last resort, which must consist of shelter under some outcropping rocks, or a rustic hangout made of branches and every other sort of thing available. the boys were not talking so much latterly. it seemed as though they might be feeling too tired for merriment, or else the increasing gravity of their situation began to impress them. one thing thad regretted very much. this was the fact that after the rain had come and gone they could hardly expect to follow the man who wore the old blue army coat by means of the tracks he left behind him, for these would have been utterly obliterated. they must then depend on information given by the inmates of such houses as they came upon along the road. "it's sure commencing to get dark, thad," grumbled giraffe, after a while, as if to explain why he had stubbed his toe, when by rights all that clumsy business was supposed to be monopolized by poor bumpus. "that's partly because we happen to be passing under a big patch of woods here on the right," the patrol leader explained; "which helps to shut out more or less of the light from the west. over there across the river the sky is so gloomy you couldn't expect it to help out any." "but inside of half an hour at the most it'll be so black you can't see a hand before your face," step hen observed. "i suppose you mean we ought to be thinking of stopping," thad returned, "and i'm of the same mind; but i hate to give up the hope of striking some farm, where we could get another chance to sleep in the haymow. but give me ten minutes more, boys, and if we fail to strike what we want i'll call a halt." "whew! i've got a hunch we're going to run up against an experience before long that we won't forget in a hurry, either!" volunteered davy. "here, none of that croaking, davy jones!" cried bob white. "we've all been through so much that it doesn't become any member of the silver fox patrol to show the white feather, suh." "nobody's thinking of doing that same, bob white," retorted davy; "i was only trying to figure out what sort of a night we had ahead of us. if it comes to knocking up against trouble, i reckon i'm as able to hold up my end of the log as the next one. my record will prove that." "we're all in the same boat, davy," step hen told him, in order to "smooth his ruffled feathers," as he called it. "and i'll time you on that promise, thad," remarked allan, as he took out his little nickel watch, and held it close up to his face in order to see where the hands pointed, which action in itself proved the contention of giraffe that the daylight was certainly growing quite dim. they continued to plod along, now and then some one making a remark, and all of them looking continually to the right, in hopes that they might discover a haven of refuge in the shape of some sort of house, they cared little how unpretentious it might be. indeed, just then there was not one scout present but who would have hailed the appearance of even an old abandoned shanty having a leaky roof with delight; for with their ingenuity a worn-out roof could easily be made to shed rain; and a supply of firewood was to be gathered in a hurry. the formation of the country was not favorable in one respect, and they failed to run across anything in the shape of an outcropping ledge, under which they might find shelter. this had saved them from a ducking on more than one former occasion, as they well remembered; but fortune was not so kind to-day. minute after minute dragged on. once allan even took out his watch, and examined its face, only to laugh. "beats all how you get fooled when you're counting the minutes," he remarked. "you mean we haven't been walking that ten thad allowed us?" asked step hen. "just six to the dot, boys," the timekeeper told them. "oh! dear, i thought it was closer on half an hour," sighed bumpus, who was dragging his feet along as though each one weighed a ton. "four whole minutes left! but allan, mebbe that watch of yours has stopped! i had one that used to play tricks like that on me, 'specially in the mornings, when by rights i ought to have been out of bed. it was the most accommodating thing you ever saw; i'd wake up, take a look and see it stood at a quarter to seven, and then roll over for another little snooze. then i'd look again after a while, and see it was still a quarter to seven, which allowed me to have another nap. and when my dad came up to ask me if i was sick, i'd tell him he'd have to get me a better watch than that if he expected me to rise promptly." "and did he?" asked davy. bumpus shrugged his fat shoulders as he replied: "i climb out of bed every morning now when a great big alarm clock rattles away close to my ear. dad sets it there before he retires, and i can't chuck it out of the window, either. so you see watches go back on their best friends sometimes." "well, mine is running like a steam engine right now," allan remarked, "and the four minutes are nearly down to three. keep a stiff upper lip, bumpus, and the day's hike will soon be over, no matter what the night brings." that was the thing that bothered them all, for the night was setting in so gloomily that it filled their hearts with secret misgivings and forebodings. the lonesomeness of their surroundings had something to do with this feeling, perhaps, although these boys were used to camping out, and had indeed roughed it many times in far-distant regions, where wild beasts roamed, and made the night hideous with their tongues. at least nothing of that kind might be expected here along the peaceful susquehanna. their sufferings were apt to come mostly from the severity of the weather, and their unpreparedness to meet a storm such as now threatened. the three minutes had certainly dwindled to two, and might be even approaching the last figure to which their progress was limited, when suddenly giraffe gave a shout. "we win, boys!" was the burden of his announcement; "because, as sure as you live, i glimpsed a light ahead there. look, you can see it easy enough now. we're going to have a roof over our heads to-night, after all! what a lucky thing it was you said _ten_ minutes, thad. suppose, now, you'd just notched it off with five, why, we'd have missed connections, that's what!" "but hold on, giraffe, don't you see that light's on the wrong side of the road," remonstrated allan. "it ought to be on the right, but instead it lies close to the edge of the water. now, no man would be silly enough to build his farmhouse on the river bank, where any spring rise might wash it away." "it must be a boat of some kind!" thad now declared; "yes, i can begin to get a glimpse of the same through that thin screen of bushes." "wow! looks like a houseboat to me, boys, or what out on the ohio and the mississippi they call a shanty boat, which is a cabin built on a monitor or float!" was what step hen announced. "i believe you're right there, step hen," allan put in; "but no matter, any port in a storm; and when a crowd of scouts are hard pushed they can squeeze in small quarters. we'll fix it somehow with the owner of that craft to let us pile in with him till the clouds roll by." all sorts of loud remarks followed, as the party hastened their footsteps, some of the boys even laughing, for the improved prospects made bumpus and smithy temporarily forget their troubles. all of them quickly saw that the object of their attention was really a clumsy-looking houseboat. it seemed to be moored to the bank with a stout rope, and, judging from the fact that a light shone from a small window, it must be occupied. laughing and jostling one another, the eight boys pushed on. it was not so dark as yet but what they could have been seen after passing the screen of leafless bushes, had any one chanced to look out of that window. thad led the way aboard. no dog barked, nor did they hear any sort of a sound inside the cabin. "give 'em a knock, thad!" said step hen. this the patrol leader did, but there was no reply. thad waited half a minute, and, hearing nothing, once more rapped his knuckles on the door. "all asleep, or else up the road somewhere; s'pose you open the door yourself, thad!" suggested giraffe impatiently. when he had knocked a third time, and received no reply, thad proceeded to open the cabin door, after which the rest of the scouts were so eager to enter that he was actually pushed ahead of them into the place. they stared around in bewilderment, for while a small lamp was burning on a table screwed to the wall on hinges, and some supper was cooking on a small stove, there did not seem to be the first sign of any human presence. there was something so strange and uncanny about this that the scouts looked at one another uneasily. chapter x. the deserted shanty boat. "nobody home, thad!" remarked giraffe presently. "it looks that way," admitted the patrol leader, for the light of the little lamp allowed them to see every part of the interior; and some of the scouts had even bent down to look under the table, and behind an old trunk, without result. "if he's stepped out to go on an errand down the road, where there may be some sort of a house, it looks queer to me that he'd leave his supper cooking on the stove here," and as allan said this he pushed back a frying pan that seemed to contain fried potatoes so nearly done they would have started to burn in a few more minutes. "gosh! don't this mystery beat everything!" bumpus was heard to mutter; and since the stout scout seldom expressed himself forcibly it could easily be understood that he was now well worked up; at the same time he warmed his hands by the fire, and even stooped down to take a closer whiff of the cooking food which must have appealed irresistibly to a hungry scout, who was also reckoned a champion feeder. "he'd better be hurrying back, then," step hen interposed, "if he don't want to get his jacket wet, because she's started in to rain, boys, you hear!" sure enough, they caught the increasing patter of descending drops on the roof of the cabin, showing that the long-delayed storm had broken bounds at last. "woof! talk to me about luck, we've got it in big chunks," said giraffe, grinning, as he relieved himself of his haversack, and immediately began to open the same, as though bent on considering their own supper. "how kind of the storm," said smithy; "it held off until we had run upon this haven of refuge. i hope now the owner will allow us to stay with him over night, for it would break my heart to have to step out of this comfortable place into the nasty wet." "don't worry, smithy," asserted giraffe; "it'd have to be a charge of dynamite that'd hoist me out of this. possession is nine points of the law, they say; and we're here to stay, even if we have to pay three prices for accommodations. and i want to tell you that with that jolly fire so handy we'll be silly to delay getting our own supper ready." "don't bother with what is on the stove," warned thad; "only shove it back, for when the owner of the boat does come home he'll want it. plenty of room for our purpose, isn't there, boys?" they assured him on this point, and then both giraffe and bumpus busied themselves. the contents of the various haversacks soon disclosed a quantity of eatables, and the cooking of supper was deemed a "snap" by those in charge, since they had the rare privilege of doing their work on a real stove, with plenty of wood handy. let the rain beat upon the roof overhead, until it made such a racket they had at times to fairly shout in order to be heard--who cared, with a cabin to shield them from the fury of the storm? thad hardly anticipated that the absent owner of the boat would return while the rain was coming down in such torrents, though if it relaxed its violence later on they might expect to see him. some of the other boys did not have quite so much confidence, for whenever there was a sudden movement of the boat, as some gust of wind struck the upper end, the more nervous ones would hastily glance toward the door, as though half expecting to see it thrown open, and an angry boatman push in, demanding to know what they meant by taking possession during his absence. but supper was cooked and placed upon the table without any interruption of this sort taking place. there was not room for them all to gather around the table; indeed, they filled the small cabin pretty well, eight of them in space that was really intended for two or three; but that did not interfere with everyone getting his share of food, though he had to sit cross-legged like a turk on the floor to devour it. all of them were in fairly high spirits now. the solving of the problem as to where they were to find shelter from the storm did considerable to lift them to this plane. then again the enjoyment they found in satisfying their hunger with good things had its share, as well as the warmth of the cabin, which was certainly a feature worth considering. supper done, and still no let-up to the downfall of rain, which was beating the liveliest kind of a tattoo upon the roof. thad was glad to discover no signs of a leak anywhere, which spoke well for the tidiness of the owner. giraffe, noticing how thad looked up and around, must have guessed what the other was thinking about, to judge from the remark he made. "no use talking, thad, the chap who owns this boat can't be that irishman who when some one asked him why he didn't mend his leaky roof said that when the weather was dry he didn't think to bother with it; and when it rained why he couldn't mend it. this one is as tight as a drum. we're a lucky lot of scouts again; and i'm only sorry that the mysterious owner isn't here to enjoy the hospitality of the shanty boat." once thad walked over to the door, which he found could be secured inside with a bar. it also had a padlock on the outside, showing that it might be the habit of the owner when he left his home for a time to fasten it securely. "i'm glad that padlock wasn't in use when we struck here," remarked allan, who had followed the leader over. "we'd have been compelled to break in, and that's a serious offense against the law, if you're caught, though we'd have left money to pay for our housing." thad opened the door, and they looked out into the pitch darkness of the night, though neither of them essayed to step beyond the sill. the storm was now in full blast, and the river seemed to be rushing past the moored shanty boat with foam on the little waves formed by the sweeping wind. "looks pretty ugly, doesn't it?" said thad. "i never would have believed the susquehanna could get on such a rampage as this," allan remarked in turn. "i always had an idea it was a peaceful sort of river, with beautiful banks, and the canal running along in places parallel to the river; but i declare you'd think it was the big mississippi right now, what we can see of it, from the way our light shines on the water." "it's on the boom, you know," thad told him, "and there's an unusual amount of water in the channel; but from the way the rain's coming down it'll be a flood before twenty-four hours, if ever there was one along here." "lucky we struck a boat then, instead of some shanty close to the bank; because in that case, thad, we might have been washed away before morning, as the river kept on rising a foot an hour perhaps." thad closed the door again. "looks a whole lot better inside than out," he observed, "which makes me feel glad we're not cowering under a branch shelter, and taking a ducking. even with the rubber blankets we couldn't expect to keep half way dry when it's pelting down as steady as that." "i've been trying to figure out what happened here," said allan. "there was some man in this cabin, and he was getting supper when we gave that first shout. now, it might be he looked out, and glimpsing a bunch of fellows in khaki suits and carrying guns, running this way, he thought we were soldiers. he may have had some good reason for not wanting to meet up with the state troops, and so cut and ran for it. that's the thing i've made my mind up to." "and according to my way of thinking you're close to the truth, allan," he was told by the patrol leader. "i noticed that you dropped that bar in place, thad, after you'd shut the door; what was the idea of doing that?" "well, it doesn't seem to be just the right thing, fastening a man's own door against him," laughed the other; "but as we all want to get some sleep to-night, being tired, i thought it might be best to fix things so we'd have ample warning if the owner of the boat did turn up. let him knock, and we'll be only too glad to open up; only we don't want him to walk in on us and catch us napping. there's no telling how unpleasant he might make it for us." this sound reasoning appealed favorably to allan. "the window you see has got a stout iron bar across it," he went on to say; "and a fellow would have the time of his life trying to crawl through such a small space; so it's all right; we can lie down to sleep without worrying." they were in fact pretty well played out, having been up a good part of the previous night, it will be remembered, and the day's tramp had been anything but a picnic to certain members of the party who need not be mentioned by name. accordingly, about an hour after they had finished supper there began to be a movement on foot looking to finding accommodations for spreading blankets on the hard floor of the cabin. space was somewhat at a premium, since there were eight of the scouts. the owner of the shanty boat had some sort of contraption in the way of a cot which in the daytime could be fastened up against the wall, and in this manner avoid taking up a considerable amount of space, to be dropped when needed. none of the boys considered for a moment using that cot, all of them preferring to make sure of the protection of their own clean blankets on the floor. bumpus, while very tired, was afraid that he might not get to sleep as easily as he would have liked, because of the way his mind was worked up. giraffe, in talking about matters, had happened to suggest that possibly the man owning the boat may have been seized with a fit when he was stooping over to draw some water from the river in a bucket, and had fallen overboard; and the thought of such a terrible thing happening filled the mind of tender-hearted bumpus, who never liked to see anyone suffer if he could help it. but although the roar of the storm and the dash of the waves against the side of the boat, causing it to rock from time to time, bothered some of the scouts in the beginning, they finally grew more accustomed to the chorus of sounds, and in the end all of them slept as only exhausted boys may. thad had remained awake after the last of his chums yielded to the drowsy feeling that overcame them; but finally he, too, found forgetfulness in sleep. he was aroused by some one clutching him desperately, and realized that giraffe, who chanced to have lain down alongside the leader, was calling his name wildly. all was darkness around them, for they had seen fit to put out the little lamp, wishing to save the oil as much as possible. the bellowing storm still held full sway without, and while there had been no thunder and lightning, as must have been the case had it happened in midsummer, the forces of nature were fiercely contending, and combined to make a terrible noise. but thad immediately became aware of the fact that there was a new motion to the shanty boat on which they had found such welcome refuge. it rocked violently, and pitched very much after the manner of a bucking broncho trying to unseat a rider. thad could give a quick guess what this signified, though it chilled him to the very marrow to realize the new horror that had come upon them. the other boys were all aroused by now, even bumpus, who usually had to be rolled violently before he would open his eyes; and their various exclamations of alarm began to be heard all around him in the gloom of the cabin interior. "what is it, thad?" "my stars! just feel the old boat jumping, would you?" "i'm beginning to be seasick already!" complained smithy. "thad, what d'ye think, has she broken away from her moorings?" demanded giraffe; and the anxious listeners felt a shock when they heard the patrol leader reply: "i'm afraid that's just what's happened, boys, and that we're adrift on the flood." chapter xi. adrift on the flood. "what can we do, thad?" cried bumpus, as a lurch of the boat caused him to bang up against some of the others. "hold on, don't smash me against the side of the cabin, you elephant!" roared davy, who had been unfortunate enough to serve as a buffer for the stout scout. thad struck a match, and somehow even the small glow thus afforded seemed to give the boys new cheer. "thank goodness the tin lamp hasn't been knocked over and the glass broken!" said step hen, as he reached out, and just saved the article in question from slipping off the table. "here, let me put this match to the wick," said thad; "things won't seem quite so bad then as in the pitch dark." after that they fixed it so the precious tin lamp could not be spilled; and so long as the oil held out they meant to keep it burning. when the door was opened so that they could look out, it was a dreadful sight the scouts saw. all before them lay heaving water, that had a sickening motion to it, but did not seem to be rushing past as they had noticed it do before. "why, the old river's standing still, i do declare!" cried the astonished bumpus, as he thrust his head out of the open doorway to see. "it looks that way because we're moving along with it, bumpus," giraffe told him; ordinarily the tall scout would most likely have jeered scornfully at the innocent for suspecting such a thing, but now he seemed to feel that he owed bumpus a debt on account of the trick he had played, which could only be paid by his being unusually kind. "can we do anything, thad?" demanded step hen. "is there a push pole on board so some of us might start the old tub back to the bank again?" "there is one, but it seems to be broken, and wouldn't be worth a continental cent in all this flood," thad told him. "unless we feel desperate enough to jump over and try to swim for it, we'll have to stay aboard, and take our chances." "oh! i hope now you won't decide to try that!" said bumpus, whose failings were well known to his chums, and a lack of the knowledge pertaining to the art of swimming happened to be one of them. indeed, when they looked at that terrible water all of the scouts shrank back, and not a single voice was raised in favor of the plan. there might be worse things even than finding themselves adrift on the flood in a houseboat. "do you think that thick rope broke under the strain, thad?" asked allan presently, as they still stood there, looking out, not liking to close the door lest something terrible happen to the boat, and all of them be caught in the cabin to drown like rats in a trap. "that's what must have happened, allan, though when i looked it over i thought it could stand any sort of strain. but it must have been part rotten in some part; and a rope's like a chain, you know, only as strong as its weakest link or strand. but no matter what the cause may have been, all we have to think of is the effect. it's too late to prevent the accident; and we'll hope the worst isn't going to happen to us now." "what d'ye mean by the worst, thad?" asked bumpus, almost piteously. "this river, you know, is full of rocks," explained the other. "in the summertime when the water's low they stick up everywhere; but in case of a flood most of them are under water, and act like snags to punch holes in boats that may be unlucky enough to be caught afloat. then again there's always danger of being crowded up on a sliding shelf of rock, when the wind and the sweep of the current might upset us all!" "gosh!" after that last exclamation bumpus remained silent, but he certainly found plenty of food for thought in what he had heard thad say. every new lurch of the boat was apt to give him a fresh quiver of anxiety. he kept his eyes fixed on thad, just as though he believed that if they were to be saved at all, it must inevitably be through the instrumentality of the patrol leader. it might readily be assumed that none of those eight scouts would ever forget that wild voyage down the flooded susquehanna, in the inky darkness of that spring night. the floating shanty boat kept performing all manner of remarkable gyrations under the influence of wind and waves. sometimes one end would be upstream, and in a little while the craft would spin around so that the door had to be temporarily closed in order to keep the driving rain from deluging them. in the midst of this dreadful suspense they suddenly felt that their onward motion had ceased. at the same time they discovered the forward part of the boat to be rising. "we're ashore!" shouted giraffe, looking ready to plunge out of the door and take any sort of a ducking rather than stay aboard, to risk death in the flood. "hold on!" cried thad, clutching him just in time to prevent any rashness; "you don't want to leap before you look. there's water on this side where the shore ought to be. i think the boat's only shoved up on a sunken rock! if you jumped now you'd find yourself in the river!" "yes, and she's swinging around right now, let me tell you, giraffe!" added davy jones; "look at the other side coming up, would you?" "oh! i hope she don't turn turtle, that's all!" bellowed bumpus; "keep the door open, thad, and let me have a chance to get out if the worst comes, because i need more time than the rest of you do." giraffe was seen to edge closer to the stout scout, as though he had made up his mind to give bumpus, who knew so little about swimming, all possible assistance should the worst come to pass. "no danger this time," sang out thad, "for there she slides off the rock, and our interrupted voyage is on again." true enough, the shanty boat began to move, rocked violently for a brief period, and then seemed to be floating once more along the rolling current on an even keel, greatly to the relief of bumpus, who was holding his breath with the dreadful suspense. "how long do you suppose now we can keep sailing like this?" step hen asked. "if nothing happens to us until morning comes," replied thad, "we'll find some way to get ashore, when we can see how to work." "sure thing!" added davy. "but i hope now we don't strike any old cataract or falls, where we'd be swept over a dam, and get wrecked. seems to me i've heard of such things along the susquehanna." his words must have brought a new spasm of alarm to the heart of bumpus, for he clutched thad's sleeve, as though imploring him to set that fear at rest. "if there are," the patrol leader told them, "it must be a good deal further upstream than where we are. while the susquehanna isn't called a navigable river, except down near its mouth, where it empties into the bay, it's an open stream for a long distance. don't bother thinking about mill-dams and that sort of thing. the worst terror we've got to face is the everlasting snags all around us. if one punched a hole in the lower part of the boat we'd be apt to sink." "wish we had life preservers, then," remarked bumpus; "i thought every boat was compelled to keep such things aboard." "they are, if they carry a certain number of passengers," thad told him. "yes," added giraffe, as he reached up and took some small object from a shelf, where it had remained all this while, in spite of the movements of the boat, "and this craft was well provided, too, for you can see that this is an empty bottle, the mate to the one the tramps threw away. they all seem to patronize the same brand around this section, too, because it's as like that other flask as two peas in a pod." thad looked at the emptied bottle, but made no remark. had giraffe been observing the patrol leader closely, however, instead of keeping his eyes fixed on what he was exhibiting, he might have wondered what the little flash of intelligence passing over thad's face could mean, and whether the other had conceived a sudden thought of some kind. they must have entered upon a section of the river where the cross currents became stronger than ever, for the drifting shanty boat's progress became more erratic. several times the boys found themselves flung in a heap by an unheralded stoppage of the boat, or an unusually wild movement sideways. "say, this is getting tougher and tougher the further we go, and i must admit i don't fancy it for a cent!" grumbled step hen, after he had picked himself up for the third time and rubbed his knees as though they pained him. "the worst i ever met up with, suh!" declared bob white, steadying himself by clutching hold of a hook that was fastened to the wall for some purpose or other. "think of me," groaned bumpus; "when i come down it's like a load of brick!" "yes, that's what i say," added davy; "'specially to the fellow underneath you, bumpus. why don't you sit down all the time, and save yourself the trouble of falling so much? you nearly crunched me last time." "yes, and it don't hurt him to fall the same way it does me," giraffe wanted the rest to know, "because he's padded all over like a football player." instead of diminishing, the erratic gyrations of the whirling boat seemed to continually increase, if such a thing were possible. even thad became worried, for it was impossible to guess what would happen next. then again that impenetrable blackness with which they were enveloped on all sides must be anything but reassuring to even the bravest heart. if they could only see out, and prepare for each new and surprising shock, it might not be quite so bad. minutes dragged along until they seemed almost like hours to the scouts who, imprisoned in that small cabin, found themselves at the mercy and sport of the flood that was pouring down the susquehanna. why, sometimes it seemed to bumpus he must be living in the time of old noah, and that this was the ark of refuge, with the forty days of solid rain beating down upon it. yes, and he could almost fancy that he had some of the animals that were taken in, two by two, around him, judging from the queer attitudes which davy jones was striking, for he was on all fours about half the time. thad had figured out what they must do in case of a wreck. this was to stand by the boat as long as she remained afloat, and only strike out for the shore in case of a complete collapse. he knew the terrible risk all of them would run if they attempted to swim that swollen stream, without daylight to give them cheer, or show them their bearings; and it was the last thing he wanted to try. perhaps nearly half an hour may have elapsed since the boat had struck that sloping shelf of hidden rock, when once again the same experience came upon them. this time they seemed to have been driven with such speed that the boat slid far up on the rock, and immediately careened toward the larboard. "we're going over this time, sure!" shouted giraffe; and there was not one of his companions but whose mind was filled with the same fear; for it seemed as though nothing could prevent such a catastrophe from happening. chapter xii. hearts courageous. it was a time of terrible suspense as the boat tilted so far on one side that one or two of the boys slipped, and fell, as though they were straddling a bobsled, and on a steep down grade. higher still reared the one side of the cabin, until it seemed as though the hearts of some of the boys were in their throats. "get on the other side, everybody, quick!" thad was shouting now, and the sound of his clarion voice thrilled them as nothing else could have done. it was not so easy to obey, such was the dreadful slope to the floor of the cabin; but giraffe gave a helpful hand to struggling bumpus, and on the other side allan fastened a good grip on the stout one, so that between them both he was speedily landed where he would do the most good. immediately the effect of this change of base began to make itself felt, for instead of continuing to rear up, that side of the boat settled slowly back. "she's slipping, and turning around!" cried giraffe; "we're going to get off the old turtle-back rock, don't you forget it! whoop!" as he gave that last yell the shanty boat did indeed settle on an even keel, and once more there was a buoyancy and motion to her. this told even bumpus, who was not supposed to know a great deal about boats, that they were free from all entangling alliances, and once more racing madly down the river at the mercy of the flood. such was the hysterical excitement under which all were laboring that regardless of what might still be awaiting them in the near future the boys began to yell, in order to relieve their pent-up feelings. they soon stopped that sort of thing, however, when their first exultation had passed, for, as bumpus remarked, "it was just to begin over again, and perhaps get upset after all." "better keep that till we're safe ashore," giraffe went on to remark. "you know the old saying in pioneer days used to be that an indian never ought to yell till he was in the woods; and a white man till he was out of the woods. so we'll keep our breath a while. it's all going to come out right, see if it ain't." giraffe undoubtedly added these concluding reassuring words for the particular benefit of bumpus, who was looking, as the tall scout privately informed step hen back of his hand, "just as limp as a dish rag, so to speak." "i hope so, giraffe; i surely hope so," the fat scout told him. "why, i believe i could face being burned up in a forest fire better than being drowned. it's always been an awful idea to me to float along on the water, and have the little fishes and turtles nibbling at you all the while. thank you for saying we've still got a fighting chance, giraffe. it was kind of you, and i won't forget it, either." when giraffe looked up he saw thad nodding his head toward him, and he knew the explanation of the encouraging smile on the patrol leader's face. it meant that thad understood why he had taken the trouble to say what he did, and wished to encourage all such efforts to the limit, as being worthy of the best traditions of scoutcraft. "giraffe, will you do me a favor?" asked davy, after another period of alternate hope and fear had passed by. "to be sure i will, davy, if it's in my power; only i hope you won't ask me to jump overboard, and try to tow the old tub ashore, or anything like that." "just take a look at my head, please," suggested the other, bending forward as he spoke. "well, i don't see that it's swelled any since the last time," remarked giraffe; "and, besides, strikes me you haven't been doing any great stunts lately that'd be apt to make you have the big head. whatever do you want me to do, davy?" "tell me if it's changed white," replied the other pleadingly, "because i reckon the scares we've had thrown into us this last half hour have sure been enough to turn any poor fellow's hair. will they know me at home, if i'm ever lucky enough to get back there again; or can i expect to have the door shut in my face, and our old dog tige chase me over the back fence?" "oh! you haven't changed much," giraffe assured him, "except that there's an anxious look stamped on your face like it'd never come off again. i'm surprised at you, davy; why don't you grin and bear it like i do? this is only going to be another of our _experiences_, and before long you'll look back at it, and laugh at the whole business. whee! there she rises again, fellows. everybody _climb_!" they were becoming quite expert now with regard to executing what giraffe called a "flank movement;" for even bumpus was able to scramble up the sloping floor before anyone could take hold of his arms. again they felt more or less concerned while the boat hung in a state of uncertainty, as though undecided whether to keep on turning until the upset came, or slide off again into deep water. when the latter came to pass all of them breathed easy again. "and to think," said smithy, taking a full breath, "this sort of thing has got to continue for hours, before morning comes. why, we'll be out of our minds, i'm afraid." "we're lucky to have any minds at all, to go out of," giraffe told him. "some fellows would be that way to start with--present company always excepted, you know." giraffe was one of those kind of boys who would have his little fling at a joke, no matter what sort of a scrape he might be in. such a buoyant nature helped to keep the spirits of his comrades up, and so far it was useful, at least. "what time is it, anyway?" demanded step hen. "seems to me we've been banging around like this for a whole week or so." "five o'clock!" announced allan. "we ought to have daylight at seven, even on such a bad morning," remarked thad, "which would mean about two more hours of it before we can make any sort of a move to get ashore." "two whole hours!" sighed bumpus, looking as though he feared he would be mashed into a mere pulp by that time. "let's try and forget our troubles," remarked giraffe; "suppose, now, bumpus here could start one of his jolly songs, and we'd all come in heavy on the chorus. that'd be something worth while remembering in future days, when we wanted folks to know how scouts could face trouble bravely." "ugh!" cried bumpus, starting up, "that makes me think of stories i've read how the british crew on the battleship _campertown_ lined up as she was sinking, and with the band playing went down in the ocean. do you really think that's what's going to happen to us here, giraffe; and is it a funeral dirge you want me to start?" "not a bit of it, but the liveliest song you know, old fellow; so get busy, and it'll make us feel better all around," the tall scout assured him. bumpus swallowed hard several times, as though not at all sure about his voice, and then he started in. at first there was a decided tremolo noticeable, but as he went on he gained assurance, and presently was doing nobly. when the proper time came for the chorus every one of them joined in, so that the volume of sound must have arisen well above the noise of the rushing waters and the wild blasts of the wind through the leafless trees ashore. had anyone by chance been within hearing distance and caught the clamor of boyish voices that swelled forth from the cabin of that shanty boat, drifting down on the bosom of the mighty flood, they might well have been pardoned if they found themselves wondering whether some asylum had yielded up its inmates, the whole thing appeared so remarkable. giraffe was right, and thad, knowing it, had not attempted to raise a hand to prevent the carrying out of the singular compact. that song cheered them up wonderfully indeed; by the time it was ended even bumpus felt quite sanguine that they were bound to pass through the fresh trial unscathed. he was ready to carry on the good work as long as his voice held out. so he started a second school song that was familiar to them, and being in better practice now, they all did more justice to the theme. it was interrupted by the surging boat striking a rock, so that the sudden jar tumbled them in a heap; but upon scrambling to their feet once more the singing was taken up again as though nothing had happened. thad was wondering whether any damage could have been done when that last hard knock came against the timbers of the boat. he did not know what they could stand in the way of resistance. they might be old, and weather-beaten, ready to yield if harshly treated. and so, as his comrades sang on at a vociferous rate, thad was trying to discover whether there were any signs of the boat foundering, which was apt to happen in case of a puncture below the water line. of course he could not make absolutely sure, but so far as he was able to tell there did not seem to be anything wrong; the boat floated as buoyantly as before the collision. when all of the boys found themselves getting more or less hoarse from their strained singing they stopped; but bumpus by this time felt so heartened that his next move was to clutch his beloved bugle, and proceed to run the gamut of everything he knew, from military calls to "'way down on the suwanee river," "old black joe," and a dozen other melodies that he could execute with considerable feeling and sweetness on the silver-tongued instrument. in this fashion possibly another half hour passed. when smithy asked for the time, and they heard allan say there was still a terribly long spell ahead of them, the scouts were at a loss to know just what to do in order to forget their troubles, and make the minutes seem to pass quickly. they were spared the necessity of inventing some way, for just then there came one of those sudden halts in the forward progress of the drifting shanty boat. "another snag!" shouted giraffe, as though the frequency of these mishaps was beginning to take their terror away. "but notice that this time we don't seem to tilt over to one side; and it feels firmer, too!" step hen wanted them to understand. "then chances are we're stuck here for a while, till the river rises, and sets us free!" commented davy. allan and thad exchanged significant looks. "do you think there's anything in that, thad, or can it be land?" asked the former, as he saw his chum start for the door, which was partly open at the time. "the rain seems to have let up some, anyway!" proclaimed smithy, as though he did not want them to think he was behind the rest in noticing things worth while. when the two scouts reached the door and thrust their heads out, they saw the same old gloom there, "thick enough to cut with a knife," as giraffe would have said. but thad discovered something more. "look up against the sky, allan!" he cried joyously. "trees, as sure as you live!" shouted the other, almost immediately. "what's that you say?" roared giraffe, pushing alongside; "trees, is it, and us out in the middle of the flooded susquehanna? how's that come, thad? is this an old island we've bumped against?" "i calculate that's just what it is, giraffe," was the reply of the patrol leader; and at hearing this astonishing as well as pleasing news the rest of the inmates of the cabin broke out into a shout that under ordinary conditions might have been heard a full mile away. "hurrah! hurrah! hurrah, and a tiger!" was what giraffe called for and the cheers were given with a vim that took their breath away. chapter xiii. the island of hope. "give me the solid ground every time," bumpus burst out with; and from the broad grin on his face, no longer pallid, it was easy to see that he meant what he said. "you need it!" step hen told him dryly, which of course was a little thrust at the heft of the stout scout. "when do we expect to go ashore, thad, may i ask?" smithy wanted to know. "the rain is stopping, as sure as anything, and that's one comfort," declared davy, knowing the aversion felt by the particular member of the patrol, who belonged to the great smith family, to getting his nice suit wet. "the best we can do," came the reply from the chief of the expedition, "is to get our duffel ready, and if there's any sign of the boat moving off, why we could disembark in a big hurry." "granny governor! do you really think she _may_ take a sudden notion to start out again on another cruise?" asked bumpus, looking anxious. "that's hard to say," he was told, "because it depends a whole lot on what the wind does. it's blowing great guns right now, but so long as it holds down-river way i think the shanty boat will stick here on this point. but there's a chance of it changing more into the northwest, and then nothing could hold the boat here." "but couldn't we tie her up somehow to one of those trees, you know?" demanded smithy. "yes, if we had the cable to do it with," thad informed him. "but--there was a rope, seems to me?" continued smithy. "take a look at it, allan, and let's hear what you think," said the leader. at that allan darted outside, despising the scanty rain that was still coming down, though decreasing constantly. hardly had half a minute elapsed before the scout was back inside again. "well, what's doing?" asked giraffe impatiently. "there's a piece of cable there, all right," came the reply; "i dragged it out of the water where it's been ever since we broke away up above. seems to be a pretty hefty rope, too, even if it did give way under that terrific strain; but for all that, boys, it won't do." "you mean there isn't enough of it, don't you, allan?" asked thad, who apparently had foreseen just such an answer. "lacks many feet of being worth while," replied the other; "so you see, smithy, a rope's something we haven't got." "'a horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse,' only in this case it's a bully old half-inch cable we want most of all," giraffe asserted. "well, i think we'd better take thad's advice, and get our stuff together, so if it comes to a case of jump we'll be ready to skip out of this," bumpus remarked; for he evidently dreaded another siege similar to the last, with the shanty boat whirling down the agitated river, subject to innumerable risks, such as kept one's heart jumping up toward his throat in a most uncomfortable way, to say the least. it did not take them long to do this, for besides their haversacks, blankets, guns, and the few cooking utensils they had with them, their possessions did not amount to much. "how about the stuff aboard the old boat--had we ought to commandeer that?" asked giraffe, who did dislike to see anything in the shape of food get away from him, when it might just as well be saved. "i should think we had a right to grab what food there is. it don't amount to a great deal, and we'd be only too glad to pay for the same if ever we ran across the owner of the tub," ventured bumpus, also having an eye to the future, and a strong dislike for the first gnawing of hunger. they all looked to thad to decide that point. "since the chances are the boat will either be wrecked on some of these ugly jagged rocks that lie in wait all along the course, or else fall into the hands of boys who may be watching the flood for driftwood and such stuff, it seems all right to me to take what we want." "the right of first discoverers!" remarked smithy grandly. "there's a piece of breakfast bacon, suh, hanging up behind the stove," quickly announced bob white, who apparently clung to the ways of his beloved south, where the ordinary salt pork is always called "bacon," and the smoked sides go under the name he mentioned. "and a package of grits as you call the fine hominy corn, in that box under the table, bob, which ought to make you as happy as a king. what more could a fellow from dixieland want more than hog and hominy?" allan laughingly announced. they gathered the things wanted near the door, and every scout knew exactly what his identical share of the burden was going to be. this was done so that if there should be any need for a hurried desertion of the boat there might not ensue any disastrous confusion that would cost them dearly. "i reckon now the old cheese-box-on-a-raft would turn out too heavy for us to drag any further up on the shore, so even the wind couldn't take her off?" step hen chanced to remark, after they had finished their preparations for departure, and huddled near the door, taking frequent observations concerning the state of the weather outside. "i'm afraid so," thad returned, "though we might give it a try when we do drop ashore, and see what we can do. these scows weigh tons, you know, and get logy in the bargain from being so long in the water. we'd need a block and tackle to manage it decently." "well, it's a pity we didn't think to bring one along, then," commented innocent smithy, at which remark the rest set up a yell. "i can see you staggering along with the whole outfit on your back, smithy," he was told by giraffe; "why, the blocks alone would faze you, not to mention the rope itself. if you've got a boat to carry it in, then it's all right to have the same along. but we started off light on this trip, you remember." "like fun we did," grunted bumpus; "that pack of mine weighs an awful lot; and then the old coffee pot keeps cracking my shins every time i trip. but of course," he hastened to add, as though he hoped they would not believe he was complaining, "we couldn't think of going without our refreshing java for breakfasts. life'd be pretty dreary to giraffe, and a few of the rest of us, if we didn't have their favorite beverage mornings." "but look out there, fellows, and tell me if you don't think it's really getting some lighter," step hen besought them. "well, you can see the trees a heap better than before," admitted giraffe; "but that might come from our eyes getting more accustomed to looking into the darkness." "no, it's full time for day to break," they were assured by allan, who had immediately turned toward the friendly little lamp so as to examine his watch. a general sigh as of relief followed this welcome announcement. that had been a terribly long night, and one those scouts were not apt to forget in a hurry. they may have been through considerable in the way of adventure in the past, but somehow that experience of being carried headlong downstream on the wild flood, with frequent alarms as the boat struck treacherous shoals and half-hidden rocks, made a deep impression on their minds, from the leader down to bumpus. "do you think it's going to clear up?" asked smithy, who did not pretend to be a weather sharp, and always depended on some of his mates when in need of information along these lines. "i don't believe it's raining a single drop now," davy informed them, after stepping outside on the deck, and holding up his face to learn the truth. "but it's just as gray overhead as ever," added giraffe, who could be a pessimist when he chose, and always see the dark side of things. "i move we have a bite to eat while we're waiting for morning to come," suggested allan; and from the way both giraffe and bumpus started eagerly up, as though they heartily approved of the idea, it was plain that both of them had been thinking along these same lines though not wishing to betray their inclinations, for fear of having the finger of scorn pointed at them. the suggestion seemed to meet with popular favor; at least it aroused no objections, for all of them realized that with such a deluge, dry wood was going to be a scarce commodity ashore for part of the ensuing day at least; and it was only policy for them to take advantage of the chance they had of obtaining a splendid cooking fire aboard the boat. the operation of preparing breakfast did not take them a great while, for long experience made them experts along these lines. and while they were doing this the darkness without gradually gave way to the gray dawn. while the immediate prospect ahead of them was far from cheerful, it seemed such a vast improvement over what they had recently faced that every one of the eight boys felt ready to joke and laugh as they partook of the meal. step hen was up to his old tricks again, and accusing his chums of hiding some of his possessions that afterward turned up in the very place he had put them. it was generally that way, for step hen _forgot_, which was his most cardinal sin. and even when he found that he had his bandanna tied around his neck, though tucked out of sight, after asking giraffe if he had purloined the same, he indignantly wanted to know who had played that mean trick on him, so as to make him believe he had lost his most cherished possession. "step hen," said giraffe gravely, "you make me think of one of those pearl divers that go down in the indian ocean for oysters. when a big shark waits for him to rise from the bottom what does the native do but stir up the sand, and make the water so roily that the man-eater just can't see him when he shoots to the surface." "oh! so i'm a shark, am i?" demanded step hen indignantly. "no, you're the smart pearl diver," retorted giraffe; "for when you find yourself caught in a hole, and that all the while you're wearing the lost hat or the bandanna, you accuse us of having put it there, so as to blind everybody's eyes." "yes," added allan, with a laugh, "step hen is like the thief being chased by a mob; and who yells out at the top of his voice, 'stop, thief!' so everybody he meets will think he's the man who's been robbed; and in the confusion he gets off. you're the guilty one who poked that red rag under the collar of your flannel shirt, and the less you say about it the better." whereupon step hen, finding himself routed, only grinned, and wisely held his peace, realizing that the boys were "on to him," as giraffe put it. so breakfast was eaten, and at least they all felt in better trim to face what new troubles the day might bring in its train. bumpus would never be happy so long as they remained aboard that clumsy craft. he haunted the deck, and kept watching the rushing river, as well as the way the furious wind blew. whenever a gust bore down upon them that caused the boat to move he would hurry inside, and give thad a look of mute appeal that was very forceful. it meant that bumpus wanted the leader to give the word to disembark. though the island presented but a dismal prospect for the castaways, anything was better than running the risk of being blown adrift again. and bumpus did want to feel solid ground under his feet again more than words could say. thad, however, did not mean to desert their comfortable quarters so easily, and had made up his mind to wait until the danger became more real and apparent. this must all depend upon the force and direction of the wind, which, however, all of them could see was steadily veering toward the northwest. chapter xiv. still surrounded by perils. "we're lucky to be here and not out there on that water," thad said, in the ear of the stout scout, as he came upon him standing in the lee of the cabin, and looking across the river, which seemed very wide at this point, though probably extremely shallow despite the flood. "i should say we were," admitted bumpus, shaking his head. "looks ugly, doesn't it, with the wind flaws rushing over the water every little way, and making a dark streak with each squall? but don't you think she's still rising, thad?" "no doubt about it," he was told. "when i came out here a while ago it stood six inches below that black mark on the rock you can see there, and look what it is now." "not more'n three," muttered bumpus apprehensively; "but, thad, you don't really think she's going to keep on rising, and that some time the whole island'll be covered, do you?" seeing what had been worrying bumpus, thad did not do as was giraffe's usual habit, add to his fears by portentous suggestions. on the contrary he sought to dissipate all such uneasy thoughts by plain common sense. "that could hardly happen, bumpus," he told the other plainly; "if you use your eyes you'll see the land keeps on rising as it leaves the water, so that it stands to reason there's quite an elevation about the middle of the island. and as the rain has stopped, with signs of the clouds breaking over in the northwest, i figure that while the river may continue to rise all day, the increase will get less and less, so that by another morning it ought to be back in its regular banks again." "well, i'm sure glad to hear you say that, thad, because, you know, i'm not near as spry as davy about climbing trees. he's a born monkey, if ever there was one, and likes nothing better than to hang by his toes from a limb fifty feet up. now, i'd look nice doing that, wouldn't i? so what you tell me eases my mind a whole lot." "we ought to be feeling thankful we passed through all we did without any serious accident," thad told him. "this flood may have caught a lot of people not prepared, along the low lands of the river, and i expect to see pig-pens and chicken coops sailing past here to-day." "oh! and if we could only lasso some of those coops, why, we might find a few feathered songbirds inside the same, which would be a great addition to our menu while we're marooned on this island," bumpus suggested gleefully. "but as we haven't any rope to use as a lariat," thad told him, "i'm afraid that lovely scheme won't pan out very well. still, i'm glad to see that you're awake to the necessity of invention. thinking up things is going to do anyone lots of good, even if there's no practical result." "but what about the wind, thad?" "still shifting, and going to do the business for this old boat, sooner or later, if it keeps blowing as hard as it is now," the patrol leader replied. "i was thinking i'd like to be the first to set foot on the island; not that i'm afraid, i hope you'll believe, thad; but just from a sort of sentimental reason, you know." "well, chances are we'll all be doing it pretty soon, bumpus; so if you really want to, go ahead," thad told him, keeping a straight face while speaking, but at the same time much amused, for he knew that despite the solemn protest of his companion bumpus was very uneasy. ten minutes later and giraffe called out: "say, what d'ye think, fellows, we've been left in the lurch. bumpus has deserted us, and is camped ashore right now, spread his blanket out on a log, and is sitting there like the king of the cannibal island. he must have felt the boat getting wobbly, and thought he'd make sure not to be in the last rush when she broke away." "i told him to go ashore," thad informed them; "and i guess the rest of us would be wise to follow his example. so get your stuff and come on, the whole lot of you." "i just hate to leave all that nice dry kindling wood behind me," complained giraffe, whose specialty was fires of any and all kinds, and who never failed to keep an eye out for a chance to have one started. "all right, then, there's nothing to hinder you from coming back after it," thad told him. "get step hen or davy to lend a hand. if we have to stay on the island for twenty-four hours, more or less, we might as well have all the comforts going, and at that they won't swamp us." "i'll do that same as sure as you live," asserted the lengthy scout, pleased with the suggestion. so after they deposited their belongings, together with what they had appropriated from the owner's scanty stock of food, giraffe spoke up. "davy, thad says you might go back with me and help land something we can make good use of, if the boat should be drifted away." "what! you don't want the old cracked stove, i hope?" ejaculated davy, guessing that it must have something to do with cooking, or giraffe would not be displaying so much eagerness about it. "what! me carry a stove on shore when i know a dozen ways to cook on a regular camp fire?" cried the tall scout derisively; "well, i should say nothing doing along that line. but we'll have trouble getting dry wood to start things with, and so thad says we might as well throw all that lot on shore here." davy was a reasonable fellow, and he saw the good sense of such a move at once; so he readily agreed to go aboard the abandoned shanty boat with giraffe, and take possession of the fuel supply. as the wind carried more or less spray across the exposed place where the boys had landed, it was later on agreed that they would do well to go further ashore. the trees were bare, and there would be no drip, as might have been the case in summertime. "makes me think of a gypsy caravan on the tramp!" step hen announced, after all of them were on the move, laden down with their various burdens, giraffe even carrying a small package of extra-fine kindling, with which he meant to start his first fire, and davy "toting" the old ax. "but that wind is something fierce when it comes with a rush and a roar," smithy was saying, as he watched some of the trees swaying under the blast; "i hope now this isn't going to be a case of dodging one peril to hit another. you know there used to be a rock and a whirlpool that the old grecian mariners dreaded, for if they missed being piled up on scylla, they had to run the risk of being sucked into charybdis. we call it 'jumping out of the frying pan into the fire.'" "now, whatever are you thinking about, smithy?" demanded bumpus, who had been feeling so well satisfied lately that he disliked to hear any dark hints about new perils hovering over their heads. "we'll keep close by, smithy, and be ready to grab you if the wind tries to carry you away any old time," giraffe assured the other scout. "oh! it isn't that, giraffe; i was only wondering if one of those tall trees took a notion to topple over while we were walking underneath it, why, with all these bundles on our backs, we couldn't very well get out of the way in time." "whee! that's so!" bumpus admitted, as he began to turn his head from one side to the other in the endeavor to cover the ground, without thinking that the peril could only come from windward, if it existed at all. now, while thad hardly believed they had anything to fear from this source, he did not think it wise to take unnecessary chances; and even before smithy voiced his sentiments the patrol leader was so shaping his course as to avoid every tree that had a suspicious look. "the one thing that keeps bothering me, outside of our limited stock of provisions, which is always a serious matter," giraffe broke in at that moment, "is the fact that all our fine tracking work counts for nothing." "i reckon, suh, you mean that we're bound to lose the object of our chase?" remarked bob white. "why, yes, the hobo with the old blue army coat is going to get such a start on us, before we escape from this river trap, that we never will be able to run him down. i'm sorry as anything, too, because i was hoping another big scoop was headed our way. now, we'll have to go home like so many dogs, with their tails between their legs." "speak for yourself, giraffe," declared allan, "because none of the rest of us feel a bit that way. we've done the best we could, and no one is responsible when they run counter to a storm like the one we've struck." "besides," added thad, who did not like the way the tall scout talked, "nobody but the judge really knows a thing about our chase of that hobo who got the old army coat from mrs. whittaker; and if we fail to recover the same he isn't the one to give it away. so we can say we had a great hike, got caught in a flood, and let it go at that. but all the same i don't give up hopes of finding this wandering george yet." "which i'm glad to hear you say, suh," bob white admitted. "there's nothing like a sticker in my estimation; and i can well remember plenty of times when holding out to the bitter end brought victory along." "oh! we've all got a touch of that in our makeup, bob," giraffe told him; "even bumpus here can be as obstinate as a mule when he chooses. just yesterday i was trying to coax him to give me that fine new waterproof match safe he carries, and d'ye know he actually refused me three separate times." "oh! yes," commented bumpus, hearing this, "you make me think of the irishman on the jury who, when they were discharged for failing to agree, upon being asked how it happened, said there were _eleven_ of the most pig-headed obstinate men on that jury he ever saw, and that try as hard as he could they refused to come around to his way of thinking. if the shoe fits, giraffe, put it on." giraffe laughed just as loud as any of them, for he could at least enjoy a joke that was aimed at himself, which was one of his best qualities. the ground did seem to rise more or less the further they got away from the northern end of the island, just as thad had told bumpus when the latter member of the marooned patrol was expressing his fears of being overwhelmed in the advancing flood. now and then they had glimpses of the river, and somehow they felt an irresistible temptation to gaze out over the wind-swept water whenever the opportunity arose. "just look at that squall coming across, would you?" ejaculated bumpus; "why, it is scooping the water up, and throwing it around like mist. ain't i glad we're on solid ground right now? and wait till it strikes the shore. let me tell you it's a good thing this island's firmly anchored, or it'd be blown away. hold tight to your hats, fellows, i warn you!" there was a sudden swoop, and a mighty roar, as the squall broke among the trees around them. when there came a startling crash the scouts huddled together and stared in the direction of the sound, being just in time to see one of the tallest trees come toppling over, with a roar that seemed to shake the ground beneath their very feet. chapter xv. the return of giraffe. standing there, gripping their hats as the fierce wind continued to sweep past, the scouts exchanged serious looks. the fall of that tree had given them a feeling of thankfulness that they were not under it at the time. "oh! how that would have squashed us!" exclaimed bumpus, when he could catch his breath. "do you know," ventured smithy, "i had my eye on that big chap, and was wondering whether he'd hold up against the next squall. so you see i wasn't so silly, after all, when i mentioned such a thing." "nobody said you were, smithy," admitted giraffe; "but, thad, how'd it do to stop near where that tree crashed down?" "why do you pick out that place in particular?" queried step hen. "oh! first of all they say lightning never strikes twice in the same place, and so there'd be no danger of another tree dropping on us. then, again, don't you understand what a lot of chopping it'll save us, having all that good wood ready." "guess you're right about that, giraffe," returned step hen; "for it made an awful crash when it hit the ground, and must have busted in many parts. it certainly takes you to think up all kinds of kinks connected with fires and fuel supplies." "well, somebody's got to do the thinking for the crowd, you know," returned the other, assuming an air of importance; "and when others shirk their duty it comes harder for us faithful members." the patrol leader thought so much of giraffe's sensible suggestion that he gave the word for a halt; and so they selected a place that looked as though it would make a pretty decent camp. here their burdens were only too willingly dropped. "we get a fair amount of shelter from the wind, you see," remarked thad, as he looked around him. "but, thad, it took that tree over like a shot," remonstrated bumpus. "yes, because it had a clear sweep at its top," he was told, "for these other trees are not nearly so tall as the one that went down. then if you examine the stump you can see that it was rotten at the heart, though it didn't show outside to any extent. that's the way with lots of men who, as they say, can smile and smile again, and yet be villains." "when we go to write up this trip for our log book," davy observed at this juncture, "i think it ought to go down as a sort of robinson crusoe story. because right now we're wrecked on a desert island, with a limited amount of stuff along, and may be compelled to resort to all sorts of things for a living." "i wonder if there's any game over here to help out, if we have to stay a long time?" ventured giraffe, the hunter instinct strong within him. "course we couldn't expect to find wild goats, like robinson did, but then there might be rabbits, and even squirrels and raccoons." "ugh! i'd just like to see myself eating a part of a raccoon!" exclaimed the particular scout, lifting both hands to further indicate his disgust. "well, you may have that pleasure, if we stay here long enough, smithy," he was assured by giraffe; "now, as for me, i'd as soon partake of a 'coon as i would a young pig. 'possum i know is fine, and i reckon the other would go all right." "and i happen to have several fishhooks in my haversack that i forgot to remove after our last trip, when we went south with thad; so you see we might pull in some fish if we got real hard pressed," and bumpus smiled contentedly as he made this statement, for which he was applauded by giraffe and davy. "speaking about robinson crusoe," said thad, "our case runs along a good deal like his for other reasons than that we're stranded on an island. you know he hewed out a boat so big that he couldn't get it down to the water; and we've got one on our hands so heavy that all of us couldn't budge her an inch when we tried to drag the same further up on the shore." "wonder if the case is going to keep on in parallel lines," mused bumpus; "for you know how old robinson found the footprints of savages on the sand one morning. what if we do here on our island?" "oh! shucks! what would we care, so long as we're heavily armed, and eight of us all told, when poor old crusoe was alone? i'd give something just to run across a footprint that wasn't made by one of us, and that's straight, fellows." no one doubted but what giraffe meant every word, for his boldness had never been reckoned a questionable article. indeed, on some occasions he had even shown bravery bordering on recklessness, so that the scout leader found it necessary to take him to task. giraffe soon amused himself in taking stock of their available supply of food, and listing the same in his methodical way. he would soon know just how many meals they could count on before being compelled to hustle for further supplies. "now, since we've never struck this island before, and ain't supposed to know a single thing about what sort of animals inhabit it, if any, i'm expecting to hang the eatables out of harm's way. that's why i fetched this leavings of the old cable along with me. i'll take time to unravel the kinks, and untwist the windings, so in the end i'll have quite a fine stout cord that's going to be mighty useful in a whole lot of ways." giraffe was happy only when busily employed. at other times he was apt to seem restless, and much like a tiger pacing up and down in its cage. they were making themselves as comfortable as possible under the strange conditions that prevailed. all scouts are drilled in the art of observation, and constantly keeping their eyes on the alert in order to better their situation. so it was first one fellow who would decide to do a thing this way; and then another would go him one better, always with a spirit of healthy rivalry that was productive of results. "there's the sun!" announced smithy suddenly, for he had seen it glint on the agitated water far out on the eastern side, where there was an opening in the brush through which it was possible to glimpse the river. "welcome, stranger!" called out giraffe, dramatically saluting; "we hope your stay with us may be long and happy." "it feels real good, too, after so much gloomy weather, and all that downpour," bumpus declared, as he opened his coat to let the warm rays strike him more fully. giraffe of course had his fire going; life would be shorn of much of its bright features if he were prevented from pursuing his favorite hobby. the old ax served to supply them with heavier fuel, which seemed to burn splendidly after being in part dried out. seeing thad beckoning, the tall scout stepped over beside him. "do you want to do an errand for me, giraffe?" asked the patrol leader. "every time, if only you don't ask me to walk on the water to the shore, which is a little more than i can manage," replied the other promptly. "i'll tell you about an idea that struck me all of a sudden, as i was sitting on this log here," announced thad. "i hardly know what put it in my mind to think of that shanty boat again. perhaps it was our joshing about what robinson crusoe would be likely to do, if he found himself located like we are. but no matter, i suddenly remembered i had meant to examine that boat better, and then it happened that something put it out of my mind." "examine the shanty boat better, do you mean, thad?" "yes. i remembered noticing what looked like a square consisting of plain cracks, on the floor of the cabin. the more i get to thinking of it, giraffe, the stronger it strikes me that there may be some sort of trap door there. the boat must be hollow, that stands to reason, and if the water could be kept from getting in, such a place would be a good hiding-place." "gee whiz! do you mean for extra grub supplies, or something else, thad?" "i was thinking of something else," came the reply. "you remember how we found supper cooking on the stove when we broke into that boat cabin, yet never a solitary soul around? well, supposing the man who was doing the cooking heard us when we let out those wild yells, and seeing soldiers coming down on him like wild cats, he just dodged below, _and stayed there_?" "you mean all night long, thad?" "yes, right up to the time we left the boat this morning," the patrol leader went on to say solemnly. "but could he stand it all that time?" asked giraffe dubiously. "it may not have been the most comfortable thing going," admitted thad; "but a fellow can stand for a whole lot when he just has to." "you mean he'd do it, rather than risk coming out, and being gobbled up by the militia, is that it, thad?" "you've caught my idea, giraffe." "but, thad, just think how he must have suffered all the while we rocked in the cradle of the deep like we did?" ventured the other, shaking his head as though he could hardly bring himself to believe it possible. "it would take a good deal of grit to hold out, for a fact, but then he might be so much afraid of arrest that of two evils he chose the lesser," thad continued. "and what do you want me to do?" queried the tall scout. "just go to where we left the boat, and see if those cracks mean some sort of trap leading to the hold of the float. be careful how you open it, because if the owner is hiding in there he may try to do something desperate. perhaps you'd better take step hen along with you." "guess not, unless you insist, thad. i'll carry a gun, and with that i'll be equal to any refugee that ever walked on two legs." giraffe liked nothing better than to be dispatched on a mission of this kind. he said nothing to any of the others, only picked up his gun, sang out to bumpus not to let the fire die down for lack of fresh wood, and then walked away. some of the rest looked after him curiously, and wondered what he was up to; but as step hen had seen him in consultation with thad he told them it was none of their business, but that the tall scout had undoubtedly been sent off on an errand by the commander. bumpus, feeling a certain sense of responsibility on account of having been especially designated as the guardian of the fire, took it upon himself to make certain that there was a plentiful supply of wood handy. it was a comical sight to see him swing the old ax, and hear him give a loud grunt every time he sent it home. but nevertheless he managed to keep things going, for he was very persistent, and hated to let any object escape him, once he had set his mind on accomplishing the same. it was perhaps fifteen minutes later that they heard a shout, and looking up discovered some one running toward them, waving his arms wildly. "there comes giraffe, like hot cakes," announced bumpus. "and he looks wild in the bargain," added step hen. "i wonder now has he run on any savages getting ready for a feast like the ones robinson saw." "oh! you're only fooling, i know, because savages couldn't be here along the susquehanna!" exclaimed bumpus; but nevertheless he began to show signs of fresh anxiety; and waited for the runner to come up, with a thousand questions in his manner. so giraffe came along, slackening his pace as he drew near, for he was breathing hard, and casting occasional glances back of him, which latter action in itself was sufficient cause for bumpus to believe he must have been chased by some one. "what is it, giraffe?" he called out, even before the other had arrived. "yes, tell us what ails you, and why you've been running so fast?" step hen went on to say, as they all crowded around the panting runner. chapter xvi. what davy heard. "you guessed right, thad!" said giraffe, looking toward the patrol leader. "about what?" demanded step hen. "why, that it'd be dangerous for us to try and stick to the old bug of a shanty boat, with all that wind blowing," came the reply. "has she gone, giraffe?" demanded thad quickly, and the other nodded eagerly. "cleaned out, as sure as anything, and not a sign of her around, as far as i could see," he went on to explain. "then it must have been the great big blast that set her adrift," davy added, doing his best to explain the mystery. "it was enough to whip her off the shore, with the water rising all the while. well, that settles it for us." "how does it, davy?" pleaded bumpus. "i mean we're crusoes at last, and the last link binding us to our beloved home is swept away," the other continued, for the especial benefit of bumpus, who was apt to take things too literally. "enough of that, davy," thad broke in with; "you know we didn't take so much stock in that clumsy boat, after all. it's true we did talk about cutting some long setting-poles, and trying to make the shore when the water went down, but there will be other ways to reach the mainland when we're ready, never you fear. tell us about it, giraffe." "why, i took my time about getting there, you see, because i knew there wasn't any need of hurrying, as we couldn't do a thing to-day. besides, thad, i wanted to look around a little on the way, and find out if there was any sort of game on _our_ little island. well, there is, and i reckon, what with our guns and snares, we could keep ourselves from starving to death for a long while." "good!" muttered bumpus, as though that important statement removed a certain dreadful fear that may have been haunting him for quite some time. "yes," continued the other scout glibly, "i saw two rabbits at different times, and a number of nut-crackers of the gray order, fine big chaps too, that would make a fine squirrel stew, let me tell you. they must have come out here at some time in the summer, when the water was awful low, and this island connected with the main shore on one side by an isthmus." "that's the explanation, i expect," assented allan, who was always very much interested in all things concerning wild animal migration. "but about the boat, giraffe?" reminded thad. "oh! yes, that's so. i started in to tell you how i found out she was gone from that point where we left her a while back, didn't i? well, after i got to the place where you come right out of the woods and sight the point i began to rub my eyes, because i couldn't believe i was seeing straight, for there wasn't any boat on that shore at all, not the first sign of one. of course i knew right away what had happened, and that it must have been the extra big squall coming out of the northwest that had driven her off." "then you hurried back to bring us the news, didn't you?" continued thad. "say, i just _flew_, because i thought the sooner you knew about it the better. and so we're prisoners on the island now, without any kind of a boat to take us off. we may have to wade or swim after the tide goes down again." "i don't suppose you stopped to take a look, and see if there were any tracks around?" the patrol leader continued. "tracks--what of, the keel of the shanty boat?" asked giraffe. "oh! the splash of the water would have washed all those out easy, so what was the use? we know she's gone, and that covers the whole bill. by now, what with that wind and current, if she hasn't been stove in on some rock, the shanty boat must be five or ten miles down the river, and booming along, all the while spinning around like a top. whee! i'm tickled to death to know i'm not aboard her right now." "so say we all of us!" roared several of the scouts in unison, showing how they felt about the matter. "how about making a shelter?" asked giraffe, his woodsman spirit aroused; which remark proved that he must have been pondering over these things while on the way to the upper end of the island and back. "we were talking that over while you were gone," said thad, "and came to the conclusion that while we might try and put up some little cover good enough for one night, which would keep the dew off, even without the use of our ponchos, it would hardly pay us to go to any great trouble." "but what if we have to stay out here a long time?" continued giraffe, whose whole manner told that he would not object in the least, as long as the eating was fairly good; and that the easter vacation could be indefinitely prolonged so far as he was concerned. "well, we don't intend to, and that's all there is to it," step hen assured him. "of course we have to put in one night; but that ought to be all. the river will fall nearly as fast as it rose; and already thad's thinking up some scheme that's going to take us ashore." "any wings to it, thad?" asked giraffe laughingly; "or shall we make a balloon, and go flying over cranford, to make the folks' eyes stick out of their heads with wondering what those frisky silver fox scouts will be doing next, to get themselves in the spotlight?" "oh! i haven't had time enough yet to get to that," thad told him; "just give me a chance to sleep over it first. but step hen is perfectly right when he says we haven't the least intention of being cooped up here many days. besides, unless we do get a move on us pretty soon, we'll have to turn back home and get ready to go to school, instead of recovering the judge's treasured army coat for him." "school!" repeated bumpus; "my goodness! is there really such a place? why, seems to me it's been an _age_ since i recited a lesson. just the thought of it makes me feel sad. but if we did have to camp out here for a couple of weeks we'd miss some hunky-dory good times in cranford. the barn dance comes off next week, you know. and every one of us, i reckon, has promised to take somebody. oh! we've just got to be home before then, thad. think what sadie bradley'd do if you gave her the mitten; and then how about giraffe's roly-poly sister, polly, allan; are you ready to forsake her? perish the thought; the boys of the silver fox patrol never were quitters, were they?" giraffe, whatever he may have thought about staying on the island as long as they could stand it, seeing that popular sentiment was against him, showed enough wisdom to quiet down. possibly he may not have been one-half as bent on such a course himself as he made out; for giraffe was notoriously shrewd, and fond of playing all manner of jokes. they lounged around, some of them engaged in accomplishing certain things, but in the main content to lie on their blankets, with a poncho underneath to keep the dampness off. this was on account of the fact that they had been cheated out of considerable sleep lately, and felt the need of it. later on thad commenced to make a bough shelter, with the assistance of several of the others. in summer time this is readily done, but when the leaves are off most of the trees it is not so easy a task. by selecting hemlock and other trees that would afford a dense covering they managed by degrees to build up quite a shelter, under which they might lie without running much risk of being wet by the dews. and after the recent heavy storm all of the weather prophets seemed fully agreed that the air had surely been cleared, so that another rain was not apt to come along for some time at least. noon came and went. they cooked a warm meal, thus reducing the amount of provisions on hand; but the result was worth all the sacrifice, giraffe and bumpus declared, as they lay on the ground afterward, hardly able to move on account of the full dinner of which they had partaken. "three more meals like that, and then the deluge!" said giraffe; "but who cares for expenses? gimme two cents' worth of gingersnaps, as the country boy said when he wanted the girls in the store to see what a high roller he could be. if our plans turn out o. k. we hope to be where we can buy a dinner for hard cash by that time. no need of worrying any; keep a doin' the smile-that-won't-come-off business. we belong to the little sunshine club, don't we, boys?" most of them were there in the bunch, and as usual all trying to talk at once. davy alone sat off to one side, and seemed to be trying to shut out the chatter, while he wrote in his private log book an account of their recent adventures. "how did the grits go, bob?" asked bumpus, who, in order to please the southern boy, had prepared a kettle of fine hominy, to which the other had certainly done full justice, if his three helpings counted for anything. "simply immense, suh, and no mistake about it," came the hearty reply; "some of you wonder how it is every southerner loves that good old dish, and i confess that i'm unable to supply the explanation. i only know it fo' a fact; and that somehow they all say it seems to bring befo' their minds' eye a picture of hanging moss, orange trees, cotton in the field, magnolias in bloom on the green trees, and all sorts of other things connected with the south they love." "i don't think there's a part of this union one-half so fond of their section of the country as you southerners are, bob," allan asserted. "i reckon you're about right, suh, when you say that. it's always been that way with us befo' the war and since. but davy's beckoning to you, thad." "well, i declare, what do you think of that for pure nerve?" muttered giraffe, as he saw the scout in question crooking his finger, and nodding to the patrol leader, as though asking him to come over; "if the mountain won't come to mahomet, he has to go to the mountain. but whatever d'ye imagine ails davy now? he don't look sick, and in need of medicine, because he ate nearly as big a dinner as--well, as bumpus here did." "speak for yourself, john alden," retorted the stout boy scornfully. thad understood that davy wished to say something privately, and on this account he did not hesitate to get up and move over to where the other was sitting with his log book in his hand. he saw that davy had a puzzled expression on his face, and from this judged he had run across some sort of enigma which he wanted the patrol leader to help him solve. as thad was accustomed to this sort of thing, he did not think it strange, though naturally feeling some curiosity concerning the matter. "want to see me, davy?" he asked, as he carelessly dropped alongside the other. "why, we're all here, ain't we, thad, the whole patrol i mean?" davy began. "count noses, and you'll find there are just eight of us, which covers the bill," thad told him. "while you-all were talking there did you hear anything queer?" continued davy. "not that could be noticed," thad told him. "there were times when the boys made so much noise that it was hard for me to hear anything besides. did you catch any suspicious sound, davy?" the other immediately nodded, and went on to say, at the same time casting a quick look all around him: "thad, i sure did. i was sitting here writing, and paying no attention to what the fellows were squabbling about, when all at once it came, as plain as anything, and right from over yonder," with which he pointed across the island. "was it the bark of a dog, the mewing of a cat, the bray of a donkey, or the neighing of a horse, davy?" asked thad, smiling. "nixey, not any of those, thad," replied the other solemnly; "but as sure as i'm sitting here it sounded like a shout in a human voice!" chapter xvii. looking for signs. "you mean you think you heard some one shouting, do you?" asked thad, apparently unmoved, though truth to tell he considered this new information of considerable importance. "that's what i want you to understand, thad." "could you make out what was said?" continued the patrol leader, anxious to get at the kernel of the matter as soon as possible. "well, no, i don't believe i did; but it just struck me it was a _yell_, like anybody would let out if something happened to give him a shock. i reckon that's what i'd be apt to do if a rattlesnake jumped at me, and i dodged back." "well," continued thad confidently, "there couldn't be any rattlesnake here on this island, i should think, and even if that was so, snakes never come out so early in the season. but davy, do you think you could tell which direction the shout seemed to come from?" "just where i pointed, over there to the east, which is the side of the island. now, if there's somebody out here besides us, who could it be?" and davy asked this question with the confidence the scouts had come to put in their leader, whom they apparently expected to know everything. "oh! it might be some fisherman who had a hut here; or even a fugitive from justice, hiding from the officers. you know we've run across things like that. once we even met up with a crazy man who had broken out of an asylum, and was living like a hermit in the woods. all that will come later on, when we find the proof that you haven't made a mistake." "but, thad, i ought to know a shout given by human lungs, hadn't i?" pursued the puzzled davy. "we all think that, davy, but you know for yourself that a loon for instance can laugh so much like a man that you'd be ready to take your affidavit there was a fellow out on the lake trying to make you mad. you think you heard a shout; but it may have been one of a lot of things." "of course anybody could be mistaken, thad," the other went on to say; and it is an accepted fact that when your enemy begins to look over his shoulder he is getting ready to retreat. "you may have heard what you think, davy; perhaps a boat was being swept past the island, and someone in it, seeing the smoke of our fire, called out for help; though i should think if that was the case he'd keep the ball rolling. come, let's take a turn across to the shore, and see if anything is in sight down-river way." "all right, thad; count on me to go along. no need of saying anything to the rest, is there?" davy remarked, with eagerness stamped upon his face. "not a bit," replied the other. when the others saw them moving off, very naturally they felt more or less curiosity to know what was in the wind. "hello! there, what's up?" called out giraffe. "oh! we're just going over to take a look around, boys," replied thad. "don't get lost, and give us the bother of hunting you up, whatever you do," they heard bumpus say; and the audacity of the thing struck thad as so comical that he could be heard chuckling as he went on. as there had been no invitation on the part of the patrol leader to the others to come along, they realized that they were not wanted. "a case of two's company, three a crowd, i reckon, suh!" remarked bob white, as he tossed a little more wood on the fire, which felt pretty cheerful, since the air was still cool after the storm. "who cares?" said bumpus, stretching himself out again at full length on his comfortable blanket. meanwhile thad and davy were engaged in making their way through the brush, and heading for the shore on the eastern side of the island that stood in the middle of the flooded susquehanna. they found it more difficult work than they had expected. the island could not have been used for any purpose, since under the trees it was a perfect snarl of bushes and creeping vines, some of the latter as thick as one's ankle. unless the person who was pushing his way through this wilderness of growth kept constantly on the alert he was very apt to catch his foot in a snake-like vine, and measure his full length on the ground. davy, indeed, uttered several little ejaculations when his hands came in contact with thorns growing on some of the bushes. "this isn't what it seemed cracked up to be, eh, thad?" he muttered. "i guess there's a sample of everything that grows around this region right here on this island, and then some. and seems like i'm finding the same out one after the other. there, that stub of a branch tried to poke my left eye out, and did bring blood on my cheek. i don't see how you manage to get along without any accidents." "you're not as experienced as i am in passing through places like this, that's all, davy. you move too quick, and don't use your eyes enough. if you think i can take the cake at it you ought to see an indian work, and after that you'd say i wasn't in the same class. he'd like as not glide along like a snake; and try as hard as you pleased, you wouldn't hear so much as a twig break under his feet." "then i'm pretty sure i'll never make a first-class scout," commented davy, "for i seem to be too clumsy. there, i thought that stick would bear my weight; but it broke under me with a sharp snap that would have told the enemy somebody was trying to sneak up on the camp. i guess it must run in the blood, thad, and i haven't got any of it in me. yet i had an uncle who was said to be one of the greatest big game hunters that ever went out to south africa after elephants and lions and all such things. they skipped me when it came to inheriting the instincts of a still-hunter." by degrees they forced their way through all these obstacles, and davy seemed to improve as he went along, as thad took occasion to tell him. "anyhow, it'll be easy enough going back again!" davy declared, "because we've left a fair trail behind us. i wouldn't be surprised now if some of the other fellows take advantage of that to cross over here, so's to get a squint of the river." "well, here we are, and it looks as if we might get a fairly decent look down stream, davy." "yes, there's a little point sticking out here, thank goodness. look at all the water going past, would you, thad? this is a great flood, all right; and i hope it goes down a lot before we try to cross over to the mainland, to-morrow, or the day after. do you think it's come to a stand yet?" "i guess you'll find it that way," returned the other; "and while we're here i mean to make a mark, so as to tell just before dark what's happening. but davy, can you see anything like a boat down below?" davy shook his head, for he had been earnestly gazing in that direction. "not a single sign, thad!" he declared, in a disappointed tone. "and as a boat couldn't have passed from sight in this short time, why, that proves there wasn't such a thing at all." "looks that way," assented the patrol leader confidently. "and," continued davy, "that if i did really hear a shout, which of course hasn't yet been proved for certain, then there's somebody on this island besides our crowd!" "we'll have to let it go at that," thad told him. they looked about for a short time, and thad arranged a stick at the edge of the river, that stood where the current would not displace it. by means of this he could tell whether the water rose or fell, since he had cut a groove in it to mark the present height of the flood. "there, that ought to do the business for us," thad remarked, after he had finished his little job. "do we go back to the camp now?" davy wanted to know, as though a little fearful that the other might propose a trip around the island, which, on account of the dense thickets of brush, he would not altogether fancy, though not the kind of a scout to easily back down. "i reckon we might as well," the patrol leader told him; and with this encouragement davy immediately started off. thad used his eyes as he went, but could not say that he had managed to make any discovery that would throw the least light on the mystery of that strange noise his companion claimed to have heard. of course, when they joined the others, everybody was curious to know what their little jaunt meant; so they had to tell all about it. "none of us heard a single thing," remarked giraffe sturdily, as though that fact ought to settle it, and that davy must have allowed his imagination to work overtime. "i should think you couldn't, what with all the row you kept up," davy answered back sturdily. "all i want to say is this, that i heard something like a shout; and i'll keep on saying that forever, no matter how you laugh, and make fun." of course they talked it over, and viewed the happening from all sides. every fellow had some sort of explanation to make to cover the ground. a few of these followed the same track thad had hewn when stating his ideas to davy; and yet after exhausting the subject the boys were no nearer a solution of the mystery than when they started. later on, just as davy had suggested might be the case, several of them made up their minds they would like to take a look at the river, for bumpus and smithy started forth. "just follow our trail!" sang out davy after the pair, "and you won't have any trouble. but keep your eyes peeled every minute of the time if you don't want to get in trouble." "what from?" demanded bumpus, halting in his departure. "oh! all sorts of snares, in the shape of concealed vines that grab you by the ankles and throw you down; or branches that smack you square in the face, and nearly blind you. if you get in any hole and want help, just sing out, fellows." "thanks, we will!" replied bumpus scornfully, as though he did not anticipate such a thing happening; if davy considered that he and smithy were still greenhorns and must be treated as babes in the woods, he was very much mistaken, that was all. as giraffe liked to say, "you never can tell," and stranger things than that can come about when boys are loose in the wilderness. those left by the fire continued to sprawl around in favorite attitudes, and take their ease. the day had another hour or so left, and there was giraffe overhauling the food supply, evidently making out the menu which he meant to serve up for the evening meal--trust giraffe for taking care of such things. the sun was shining cheerily now, and that at least was some comfort to these castaway scouts. they expected that with the coming of another day they would be able to start a scheme looking to making a move to get away; and that thought gave them encouragement. it was at this moment there rang out a sudden cry that caused everyone to spring up and look startled. "it sounded like smithy's voice!" exclaimed thad, as he gained his feet. "yes, that's what it did!" echoed giraffe; "something must have happened after all! mebbe they've gone and met up with trouble! mebbe there _are_ some people on this island that don't like us being here! thad, what shall we do?" quick and energetic came the patrol leader's order. "step hen, stay here to guard the camp; the rest of you follow me!" without wasting another second the five boys rushed away toward the spot where again and again they could hear smithy's shrill voice calling for help! chapter xviii. more serious news. "help! hurry up!" that was what smithy was calling, in agonized tones that thrilled everyone of the other scouts. they were rushing pell-mell along the trail which davy and thad had made in going to and coming from the river, and which the other pair had also followed when they went to take an observation. now and then one of them would find a root or a vine, and take a header, but only to scramble erect again, and resume the furious forward rush. the river was close by, and at least smithy had not lost his voice, for he still kept up his cries; though getting hoarse through the excitement, and the constant strain on his voice. then those in the lead discovered their chum. he seemed to be lying flat on his chest at the very brink of the swift flowing river; and while one hand gripped an exposed root belonging to a tree, the other was stretched over the edge of the bank. "it's bumpus!" gasped giraffe; "and he's fallen in!" no one took the trouble to offer any objection to this explanation. indeed, from their previous experience with bumpus it seemed the most natural thing in the world to expect the clumsy scout to tumble overboard every chance he got. they could in fact look back to any number of similar accidents during the time the patrol had been taking these outings in the woods and on the waters. "hold him tight, smithy!" snapped thad, trying to increase his pace, which was rendered a difficult thing to do because of the many obstacles that must be encountered and overcome. "good boy, smithy, keep a-going!" cried davy, greatly excited. no doubt these cheery symptoms of coming help did much to encourage smithy to maintain his frenzied clutch upon the one who was in the water; for he was still holding on when thad arrived on the spot, accompanied by giraffe, the best runner of them all. down alongside smithy they both dropped. yes, there was poor old bumpus in the flood, swimming with hands and legs, and spurting great volumes of the muddy water out of his mouth with each splurge. it chanced that it was quite deep there, and the river ran like a mill race; so that if smithy had released his grip for a single instant the unlucky bumpus must have been swept down-stream like a log, in spite of his strenuous efforts. when his clothes were soaked through, the stout member of the patrol was apt to weigh several hundred pounds; so it was small wonder that, unaided, smithy could do next to nothing looking to his rescue--just hold on desperately, and shout for help. but when thad and giraffe took a grip it was a different matter. altogether they started to drag the imperiled scout up out of his impromptu bath. "yo-heave-o! up you come, my boy! one more pull, thad, and we've got him. wow! what an elephant he is!" so saying, giraffe bent again to the task, with the result that bumpus was soon hauled over the edge of the crumbling bank, and dragged to a place of security. there he lay, sprawled out, gasping for breath, and shedding gallons of water from his soaked khaki suit. the boys gathered around, staring at him. although they often poked considerable fun at bumpus, it was of an innocent sort, for they were exceedingly fond of him. "well, you sure look like a great big grampus hauled up on the beach!" remarked giraffe, with pretended scorn, though to tell the truth in all probability he did not really know what a grampus was, only that it lived in the sea, and stood for something clumsy and large. "next time you feel like taking a bath, bumpus, don't be so greedy. you're some size, but the river's on a flood now, and too big for you!" said davy; and turning to thad he continued: "like as not your stick will show that she jumped up a foot or more when bumpus dropped in." "it's a bad time to get your feet crossed, suh, when you-all happen to be on a river bank!" bob white hinted. "you're all away off; i didn't stumble, this time, anyhow, and i wasn't trying to take a bath either," spluttered the soaking bumpus, as he sat up and started wiping his face with a very wet sleeve. "how about that, smithy; what happened to him?" asked thad. "the bank caved in under him, that's the truth," replied the other scout. "he was wanting to see just a little further down the river, when all at once he went in. i really couldn't tell you just how i happened to catch hold of him by the back of his coat, because i don't know myself; but i thought it my duty to call out, and try to get some help. you see, he was too heavy for me to lift. i almost broke my back trying, as it was." "i should think you would!" declared giraffe; "and it's a lucky thing we heard you calling. only for that what would you have done, smithy?" "i was trying to think all the while," replied the other. "you see, i didn't dare let go my hold, for the current is terribly swift here. i had half an idea that if only i could work along the bank a little, it might shoal some, and then bumpus would be able to get a footing. but i'm glad you came when you did, for i was rapidly becoming exhausted." smithy generally spoke with great exactness, and used words that few of his comrades ever bothered with in their conversation; that was one thing connected with his previous condition that persisted in clinging to the former dandy of the patrol. "you did the right thing, and that's a fact!" commented allan; "i don't believe there's a single fellow who could have raised bumpus. but, thad, he's beginning to shiver in this air; don't you think we ought to get him over to the fire?" "sounds good t-to me; fire's what i w-want, and l-lots of it too!" stammered the stout scout, trying to get to his feet, in which effort he was ably assisted by willing hands. "as t-to that bank, how'd i k-k-know it was goin' to c-c-cave in on me, t-t-tell me that, will y-y-you?" they hurried him along as fast as he could be urged, and all the while he kept shedding little streams of water, as though he carried an almost inexhaustible supply. when finally the camp was reached, with the wondering step hen giggling over the comical sight bumpus presented, they made the late swimmer disrobe, and hung his clothes around so that they would dry in the heat of the fire. bumpus himself was wrapped in blankets until he looked like a swathed mummy, and told to just lie there. under all this manipulation of course his chilled blood regained its normal temperature, and he declared he felt as snug as a "bug in a rug!" even this excitement did not cause giraffe to forget that he had business on his hands, and supper was taken in charge with the customary results; for they presently found themselves sitting down to a "bountiful repast," davy called it, to the evident complete satisfaction of the eminent cook. by the time they were ready to roll up in their blankets and try to get some sleep, the clothes hanging from various bushes were thoroughly dry; so that bumpus could don the same. this released all the extra blankets with which he had been swathed, which was a matter of vital importance to their various owners. the fire they expected to keep going more or less all through the night. besides the comfort that it brought through the necessary heat, its bright glow did much to dissipate the gloom around them, and render their situation less cheerless. giraffe insisted on keeping his gun close at his side, for he said there could be no telling whether they were safe there or not. if the island did happen to be the hiding-place of some desperate criminal, who might think to steal a march on them as they slept, he wanted to be ready to repel boarders. he even had thad promise to give a certain signal should anything out of the way happen while they slept; just as though thad would be awake all through the night, and know about the same. but the long hours of darkness dragged on, and there was no alarm. some of the boys slept through the entire night without arousing once; but there were others who felt more of the weight of responsibility resting upon them, and who frequently sat up to look around, or else got upon their feet, in order to put more wood on the camp fire. morning broke and found them apparently in just the same condition as when they had wrapped their blankets around them, and lay down with their feet toward the fire, hunter-fashion. thad was the first up, and when allan awoke it was to see the patrol leader returning over the trail that led to the river bank. it was easy to decide that the other must have been over to learn what his tally-stick had to tell about the condition of the flood. "how about it, thad; falling, i hope?" allan asked, as he stretched himself, after getting on his feet. "yes, and rapidly into the bargain, just as we expected would be the case," came the reply. "that rain could not have extended all the way up to the sources of the river, you see; and it will run out in a big hurry." "then we may be able to get across to the mainland before a great while?" queried allan. "we'll talk about that while we're eating breakfast," thad told him; "and as the sun is coming up i reckon we'd better waken the rest of the crowd. they've had a grand good sleep, i take it. give giraffe a push, allan, will you, and roll bumpus over a few times till he says he's awake; that's the regular program with him, you know." one by one the scouts sat up, and yawned, and stretched, as sleepy boys are apt to do when they have not been allowed to have their last nap out. of course davy did not forget how thad had made a flood-tally over at the river, which fortunately bumpus had not kicked away when he took his unexpected plunge with a portion of the crumbly bank. "i reckon, now, thad, you've been over to see what's doing," he remarked, while giraffe fixed his cooking fire, and set about beginning operations looking to having breakfast under way. "and if that's so tell us how she stands. did it drop half a foot or more during the time we snoozed?" "more like three feet," replied the other; "and if bumpus fell over in the same place again he'd find the water hardly up to his waist, with little current in place of that mill race of yesterday. yes, things begin to look encouraging all around, boys!" "like fun they do!" bawled out giraffe just then, as he stood up, and turned a very red and angry face toward the rest of the scouts. "why, what ails you now, giraffe?" asked smithy, who, generally calm and cold as an iceberg himself, frequently took the others to task when they showed signs of great excitement. "i'm as mad as a wet hen, i tell you, and i wish somebody'd kick me for not doing what i first meant to last night, ask thad to set a watch!" exploded the tall scout, stamping on the ground, and grinding his teeth. thad smelled a rat immediately. "anything been taken, giraffe?" he asked hastily. "anything?" roared the other; "why, there isn't half enough left to give us a decent meal. i reckon i might be satisfied, but where the rest of you are going to come in beats me. yes, this island is inhabited, all right, and they're a set of low-down thieves at that. you hear me talking, fellows!" chapter xix. the trail of the marauder. when they heard the dreadful news the rest of the scouts looked almost frightened. it was bad enough to know that some evil intentioned man was on the island with them; but that he should have actually crept into their camp while they slept, and very nearly made a clean sweep of their already limited stock of provisions, seemed close to a tragedy. when you threaten to cut off their food supply it is hitting boys in their weakest place. there was an immediate start for the spot where they had placed their haversacks and the food on the preceding night. thad, however, held them back. "don't all rush so," he told them. "we want to look around, and see if we can find out anything. if everybody tramples the ground it'll be little use trying. let allan and giraffe help me look first. we'll report anything we find." the advice sounded reasonable to the rest; so despite their eagerness to take a hand in the game they held back while the three scouts proceeded to examine the ground. it was not long before allan made a discovery. "i think here's where he crawled along," he told thad, who was close by; "you can see that something's dragged here, which must have been his knees. yes, and there's where the toe of his shoe made a dent in the soil, with another and still another further on. and now he lay flat on his stomach. perhaps one of us happened to move just then, and he was afraid of being seen." "you're right, allan," remarked thad, after taking a good look; "and to think it possible he was crouching here in the shadows when i got up and threw some wood on the fire. if i knew that i'd feel pretty sore." "well, he went on again pretty soon, didn't he?" observed giraffe, who was hovering close by, and keeping close watch on everything that was done. "yes, that's what he did," resumed allan, also starting on once more, following the tracks that looked so strange they would have sorely puzzled members of the patrol like smithy and bumpus, who were not noted as trackers; "and headed direct for the place where we stacked our things up." "it was a lucky thing none of us happened to leave our guns here with all the rest of the duffel," observed giraffe exultantly, as though it gave him considerable satisfaction to find that he had not been quite as foolish as might have happened. "he finally got to our stuff," allan went on, "and rising to his knees started to pick out what he wanted. i guess he must have been pretty hungry, because grub was what he seemed to be after. not one of our haversacks is gone, you can see. he took that piece of bacon we fetched from the boat, the packages of crackers, and--yes, the cheese is lost in addition, also a can of corn and the coffee. fact is, it looks as if we didn't have much left, outside this package of hominy, and the little tin box of tea you fetched along, thad!" giraffe gave vent to a hollow groan. "it's just dreadful, that's what!" he said, with a gulp, as though receiving the sad news that he had lost his best friend; "just think of grits and tea for our breakfast, and not another thing! the worst is yet to come, though, for we won't get _anything_ for dinner, you know! why, i'll be all skin and bone if things keep on going from bad to worse like that." "bob white won't think it's so tough, if he can have his grits," remarked allan; "but breakfast to a new england boy stands for ham and eggs, flapjacks with maple syrup, and always coffee and cold pie." "stop stretching out the agony, can't you?" said giraffe, holding both hands to his ears as though trying to shut out the mention of such delightful dishes; "it's cruelty to animals to talk that way, allan. but, thad, what are we going to do about this same thing? can't we take up the trail, and try to get our stuff back? after all, this old island is only of a certain size, and with eight of us in line we ought to comb it from top to bottom. i feel like sheridan did when he met the union troops running away in a panic from cedar creek, and yelled out: 'turn the other way, boys, turn the other way! we'll lick 'em out of their boots yet! we've just got to get those camps back!' you see he was thinking of all the good stuff they'd lost with the camps. so are we." "allan, suppose we look to see which way he went off, because it couldn't have been along the same line as his advance?" suggested the scout master. he knew considerable about these things himself, but trusted to allan to learn facts that might even have eluded his observation. allan had been in maine and the adirondacks a portion of his life, and picked up many clever ways from association with the guides that made him invaluable when it came to a question of woodcraft. "that's a good idea, thad," was what the other said in reply; and already his sharp eyes had begun to look for signs. these were easily found, for the unseen thief had crawled away in the same fashion as he made his advance, though a bit more clumsily, which was doubtless owing to the fact of his being more heavily laden at the time. step hen, bob white and the other three were of course watching the every movement of the experienced trackers with great interest. they took some little satisfaction in trying to guess just what each movement signified. bumpus and smithy of course would never have been able to figure these things out, but the other three had more practical knowledge and could hit closer to the mark. "there," step hen was saying eagerly; "they're taking stock of what's been hooked, and my stars! just look at the way giraffe throws his hands up, will you? if that doesn't tell the story, then i'm away off in my guess. i just wager we've been cleaned out for keeps, and our little tummies will call in vain for their accustomed rations. i wonder how it feels to starve to death!" "oh! quit talking that way, step hen," wailed bumpus; "we ain't going to waste away like all that. give thad a chance to think up how to win out. besides, didn't you hear giraffe say there was lots of fat game on this island; yes, and fish in the river to boot. i'm not going to give up so easy; there's always _something_ to fall back on, if it gets to the worst." "yes," added step hen maliciously, "that's what shipwrecked sailors have to do when they cast lots; and i'm glad now i wasn't built like a roly-poly pudding. it's too tempting when hard times come along." bumpus, of course, understood that his chum was only joking, but nevertheless he drew a long breath, and remained very quiet for quite some time after that, as though busied with uneasy thoughts. "now they're starting off again," remarked davy, "and i guess it's to follow the trail of the thief away. i wonder if we could track him to where he hangs out, so as to make him hand over our property." "i allow, suh," bob white broke in with, "that by the time we did that same there would be mighty little of our food left. he must have been pretty hungry to take the chances he did when he crawled into our camp, and with all these guns around in plain sight." "let's keep along after the boys," suggested step hen, "and see what they run up against." the idea appealed to his companions, for they all started off, though maintaining the same relative distance from thad and his backers, so as not to interfere with the work. step hen took occasion to bend down when he came upon a spot where the imprint of the unknown man's knee could be seen, and looked at it intently, though finally giving it up as a task beyond his ability. "knees all make the same kind of dragging mark to me," he told the others, who had waited to hear his report, "and i can't tell one from another. if it was bumpus here, now, who had done this trick in his sleep, i wouldn't be able to say for sure, though like as not he'd bear deeper'n this mark shows." "well, since bumpus wasn't outside of his blanket once all night long, you can't saddle this job on his poor shoulders. he's got enough to carry as it is, see?" and the stout boy put all the emphasis possible on that last word, as though he meant to make it decisive. "they seem to be getting close to the bushes now," bob white observed. "and once he got in there mebbe the thief would rise to his feet to walk away," added step hen. "if thad beckons you'll know he's settled it in his mind to follow the trail, and wants all of us who own guns to rally around him." "how about the rest; what will they be doing?" asked smithy. "tending camp, of course," replied the other. "think now we know we've got a thief for a neighbor we want him to steal our blankets next? a nice pickle we'd be in without some way to keep warm nights. remember, if you are left on guard, to defend the blankets with your very lives, both of you!" this sort of lurid talk of course thrilled bumpus very much, for he had a habit of taking what the others said literally, and could not see the vein of humor apt to lie back of bombastic vaporings. he was rubbing his fat hands one over the other in a nervous way, and alternately watching what step hen did, and then how the others were coming on. they could see that thad and his two fellow scouts were just back of the first fringe of bushes. they had possibly made some sort of discovery, because all of them seemed to be down on hands and knees, with their faces close to the earth, and apparently examining certain impressions. "i wonder what's up now?" ventured davy. "they've run on something that's staggered the bunch, you can see easily enough," step hen went on to say excitedly; "and i'm trying to make up my mind whether after all it _was_ a man crawling along that made those queer marks. p'raps, now, some sort of big wild animal might have done it. we haven't seen a single footprint, you remember, to tell the story. i wish i knew what they've run across. why don't they call us over, and let us in? it isn't just fair to keep us worrying like we are." just as though thad might have heard this complaint on the part of step hen, he turned toward them, and raising his hand beckoned. "there, boys, he wants us to come over!" exclaimed davy, exultantly; "i thought it'd strike us pretty quick; thad isn't the kind to forget his mates. and we'll soon be put wise to the facts." they hurried to join the other three, who still stood at the same place, ever and anon looking seriously down at the ground, as though hardly able to believe the evidence of their eyes. when step hen came running with the other four tagging at his heels, thad held up his hand. "hold on right there, boys!" he remarked; "we don't want you to cut in and rub it all away before you've had a chance to look for yourselves." of course this caused them to turn their attention to the ground, and it was easy to see that the crawling thief had here risen to his full height, though possibly bending over more or less as he continued his retreat. "then it was a man, after all!" was what bumpus said; and there was a positive air of relief about his voice, as though he had taken step hen's hint seriously, and even fancied a terrible wild beast might be hovering near them. "yes, but look closer, and see if you can recognize anything familiar about the marks?" advised thad. accordingly, all of them leaned over and looked. it was step hen who gave the first startled cry. "oh! thad, what does this mean?" he burst out with; "it's the same broken shoe, bound together with an old rag, that we saw when we looked for the marks of wandering george, in the mud of the road; but how in the wide world could he get over here?" chapter xx. solving a mystery. "what's that you say?" burst out davy, looking as startled as though, to use the words of giraffe, he "had seen his great grandfather's spook!" "wandering george! out here on our island, too!" gasped bumpus, just as though they had a permanent right to the strip of land in the middle of the river--"our" island he called it. of course all of them turned toward thad, as usual, expecting him to give the answer to the question that puzzled them. the patrol leader laughed as he pointed down once more to that tell-tale track. "no going behind the returns, is there, boys?" he said. "every one of you knows that footprint by heart, because we took the pains to study it. and the man whose old battered shoe is being held on with a rag we know is wandering george. he is responsible for taking our provisions. right now you can imagine how much he's enjoying that cheese and crackers we expected to last us out to-day." giraffe groaned. "and that fine strip of bacon we lifted at the time we left the shanty-boat!" added step hen, with a dismal look toward bob white, who raised his eyes as if in horror at the idea of such desecration. "it's easy to understand that the hobo's on the island, but how in the wide world could he get here without wings? that's what i want to know," allan observed; which at least went to show that so far no one had been able to figure it out, for if anybody could, surely the maine boy, who had followed many a difficult trail in his time, ought to be able to. "mebbe he crossed over to the island when the water was low?" suggested step hen, but the idea was instantly scorned by giraffe. "you forget that the river's been on the boom for some little while," he said loftily; "and we happen to know that george wasn't far ahead of us just yesterday. now, you're wondering if i've got a theory of my own, and i'll tell you what i think. somehow or other george must have been in a boat, and came that way. how do we know but what he was trying to cross over, and the current swept him down stream? then, again, he might have been in some house or barn that was carried away by the flood, and managed to get ashore here." "say, thad, don't you remember what i told you last night, when the rest were making so much noise, and i was dead sure i heard a shout?" interrupted davy, with considerable excitement. "is that so?" demanded giraffe; "well, that might have been the time he landed here, and discovering that we wore uniforms, he was afraid to break in, so like as not he just hung around and watched us, till he got a chance to sneak all our bully grub." "thad, you haven't told us what _you_ think yet," remarked smithy, who had been listening to all this excited talk, and hearing so many wonderful suggestions made that he was quite bewildered; "did this tramp fly over here; was he washed up on the island by the flood; or did he find himself castaway on some floating cabin, and manage to get ashore by good luck?" thad must have been using his head to some advantage during this time, for he appeared to have made up his mind decisively. "to tell you the truth," he remarked, "i don't take any stock in either the flying scheme or the one that brings in a floating hencoop or cabin to account for wandering george's being here. i feel pretty sure he came on board a boat." "is that so, thad?" giraffe went on to remark; "what kind of a boat would you say it was, now?" "oh! something in the shape of a shanty-boat!" continued the other. "you mean like the one that brought us here?" demanded step hen. "_the same one!_" thad shot back, with an emphasis that staggered his hearers, since all sorts of exclamations burst from their lips. "thad, do you really mean that?" "it wouldn't be like you to crack a joke, when we're all mixed up like this." "a passenger aboard _our_ boat, and none of us ever dream of it; well, i must say you've got me guessing, thad. however could that be?" and bumpus plucked at the sleeve of the patrol leader, as though thrilled through and through by the staggering announcement just made. "well, you see, it's just dawned on me," thad commenced to say, "and i haven't had much time to figure it out myself, but the more i think it over the stronger my belief grows. look back a bit, and you'll remember that we found a light in the cabin when we boarded the boat." "yes, that's so, thad," assented giraffe. "and supper cooking, too," added bumpus. "with not a soul in sight, which we thought mighty queer," step hen went on to say, as his contribution. "and all the while we stayed there, up to the time the cable broke, there was never a sign of the man that owned the boat, either," davy reminded them. "you remember," thad continued, "that we figured out at first the owner of the boat must have seen us coming, and hid himself somewhere ashore, hoping we'd take a look about and pass on. we even guessed he must have some reason to fear arrest, and thought we were connected with the state militia. but after learning of wandering george's being here on the island i've hatched up another idea, and i'll tell you just what it runs like." "good for you, thad; we're listening like everything," muttered bumpus, at the elbow of the chief scout. "i've come to the conclusion," thad began, "that the two tramps must have chased the owner of the shanty-boat away some time before we struck in. now that i'm on the track i can remember there were certain signs of confusion aboard when we first entered; things seemed tossed around, as if someone had been looking in places for hidden valuables. that would be just what these two yeggmen were apt to do, you see. and while one began to cook some supper, the other may have started in to ransack the place." "yes, and about that time they glimpsed us coming along; is that the way you figure it out, thad?" asked allan eagerly; for this explanation on the part of his chum appealed strongly to him. "yes, they saw a bunch of fellows in khaki running toward the boat," pursued the scout master; "and as it was too late for them to make a safe getaway, they just lifted a trap in the floor of the cabin, and dropped into the hold of the boat." "je-ru-sa-lem!" gasped giraffe, "now, what d'ye think of that? all the time we were aboard the old boat george and his pal were hiding in the hold, and waiting for us to vacate the ranch! thad, i honestly believe you've struck oil." "but," interposed step hen, who on this occasion seemed disposed to be the only doubter, "why wouldn't they have made some attempt to escape while we slept, before the flood got so bad that the boat broke away from her moorings?" "there must have been some reason," thad told him; "and we may be able to give a stab at it, even if we never know the real truth. if you look back again, step hen, to how we were sprawled about on the floor of that little cabin, trying to get some sleep, and wrapped in our blankets, you'll likely remember that the eight of us managed to cover about all the limited space there was around." "every foot of the floor, for a fact, thad," davy admitted; "and i even threatened to hang by my toes from a hook, and sleep like a bat does, only giraffe told me all the blood would run to my head, because that was the only empty place in my makeup." "well, somebody must have been lying on that trap door, and whenever the men below tried to raise it they understood there was nothing doing," thad explained. "yes, that carries it up to the time we broke loose, and started on our wild ride down the flood," step hen admitted; "but you'd think they'd have let us know about having passengers aboard. whenever we bucked up against a rock, and the bally old tub threatened to turn upside-down, think how scared george and his pal must 'a' been. whew! it was bad enough above-decks, let alone being shut down there, and not knowing what was happening." "of course i can't tell you what they thought, and why they didn't try to communicate with us," thad went on. "it might be they felt that if they had to choose between giving themselves up or staying down in the hold and taking their chances they'd prefer the last. but when we left the boat i honestly believe they were aboard still." "yes, and they'd guess she had struck shore, from the steady way she hung there," giraffe continued, taking up the story in his turn, "and of course they knew that we were clearing out. so, what did they do but follow suit, as soon as they thought the coast was clear." "how about it now. step hen; any more objections?" asked the patrol leader. "i guess i'm through, thad," acknowledged the other slowly, as though still unable to fully grasp the strange thing; "you've made out a pretty strong case, and i don't glimpse a break in the chain. that's the way you always hammer it in. if that hobo is here, then chances are he did come along with us, even if we never smelled a rat." "in the excitement of getting away," thad resumed, "i forgot i'd noticed cracks in the cabin floor that looked like a trap leading down into the hold of the boat. that was partly why i had giraffe go back to where we left the shanty-boat. you remember he came and told us it had been driven off the point by that big squall." "i'm wondering what would have happened if you'd thought about the hold under the cabin before we ever quitted our old craft?" giraffe remarked. "oh! we'd have found what was down there, and with guns in our hands could have easily cowed the hoboes," allan told him. "fight or no fight, that's what we would have done!" declared bumpus vigorously. "listen to him, will you?" chuckled step hen; "isn't he just the fierce cossack, though? i can see that tramp army wilting when they sighted bumpus threatening to jump down on 'em. who'd blame anybody for throwing up the sponge rather'n be mashed flat by such a hippo?" "well," remarked giraffe, as he rubbed his hands together in a satisfied fashion, "one thing sure, our old luck's still hanging on." "how do you make that out, giraffe?" inquired smithy. "we started on this hike with the idea of overtaking the tramp who was wearing the coat the judge's wife gave away by mistake, didn't we?" the lengthy scout demanded. "well, stop and think for a minute, will you, what's happened to us? here we are, marooned on an island, from which nobody can get away right at present unless he swims, and none of us feel like trying that in such cold water, do we? did you ever know a hobo who would willingly take a bath? well, put things together, and what do you get? wandering george, coat and all let's hope, is shut up here on this strip of ground with us; and all we've got to do is to round him up to-day. now, do you see, smithy?" somehow this plain way of putting the case appealed to every one of them; for immediately bumpus was shaking hands with step hen, and as if to show their satisfaction over the way things were turning out some of the rest did likewise. "course," said giraffe, as he gave davy's digits a squeeze that made the other fairly wince, "we can't say just how we'll corner the slippery rat, but there'll be a way, make up your mind to that, boys." chapter xxi. an empty larder. "i'm only afraid it'll be too late, giraffe," bumpus was heard to remark, with a skeptical air. "too late for what?" demanded the tall scout, who had dropped to his knees, and was starting to follow the trail left by wandering george, after the latter had gained his feet, and moved away from the vicinity of the camp. "why, there won't be a sign of our grub left by that time, you see; george; he'll be awful hungry, and it's surprising what a lot of stuff a regular hobo can put away when he tries." "and hoboes ain't the only ones, bumpus," intimated davy; "i'd match you and giraffe here against the best of 'em. but let's hope we'll find a way to get off this island before night comes, and strike a farmhouse where they'll feed us like the baileys did." "oh! do you really think there's a chance of that happening to us, davy?" exclaimed bumpus, intentionally omitting to show any ill feeling on account of the little slur concerning his appetite. "i'd be willing to even go without my lunch in the middle of the day if i could believe we'd be sitting with our knees under a groaning table to-night. seems like when you're beginning to face starvation every good thing you ever liked keeps popping up in your head." giraffe at this juncture called out, and his manner indicated that he had made a discovery of some sort. "what is it, giraffe?" asked thad. "i just bet you he's found where george sat down and ate up every crumb of that grub," muttered bumpus, whose mind seemed to be wholly concerned with the question of the lost supplies. "george was joined here by his pal, who must have been hanging out, waiting for him," giraffe told them; and as he examined the tracks further he added; "and say, i reckon now that second fellow got hurt some way, while he was cooped up in the black hole under the cabin floor." "now how do you make that out, giraffe?" asked davy. "why, i can see that he limps like everything," the other went on to say, doubtless applying his knowledge of woodcraft to the case. "one foot drags every step he takes, and it didn't do that before, i happen to know. that's why george volunteered to do the cribbing all by himself, while the other waited." "that makes two to handle instead of one, doesn't it?" allan remarked; and once more bumpus groaned. "two is a whole lot worse than one, to get away with things," he observed, with a piteous air of resignation, as though he was now perfectly satisfied they would none of them ever see the first sign of the stolen provisions again. "if there's a trail why can't we start in, and track the two hoboes down?" suggested davy vigorously. they had followed giraffe, so that all of them were just back of him at this time. the tall scout, however, shook his head in a disappointing way. "i'd like to try that the worst kind," he remarked, "but i reckon it's no go. you can hardly see the footprints here, and they get fainter as they go on. besides, we'd make all manner of noise creeping through this scrub, and they'd be wise to our coming, so they could keep moving off. there's a better way to capture george than that, fellows." "yes," added thad, "we can comb the island from one end to the other. it can't be of any great size, you see; and by forming a line across at the top we could cover about every foot of it. in the end we'd corner the tramps, and make them surrender. we've got the whole day before us, and the sun promises to shine, too, so we can count on its being warmer." "the whole day," bumpus remarked disconsolately, "that means twelve long hours, don't it? well, i suppose i can stand the thing if the rest of you can; but it's really the most dreadful calamity that ever faced us. they say starving is an easy death, but it wouldn't be to me." no one was paying any attention to his complainings, so bumpus stopped short in order to listen to what the others were saying. possibly he told himself that the best way to forget his troubles was to get interested in what was going on. and it might be there still remained a shred of hope in his heart that if they made a quick job of the surround, and capture, perhaps they might retake enough of the purloined food to constitute a bare meal at noon. "first of all we've got to have our breakfast, such as it is," thad observed. "tea and grits--oh! my stars!" sighed giraffe; whereupon bob white turned upon him with the cutting remark: "you ought to be thankful for the grits, suh, believe me; it satisfies me, let me tell you. i wouldn't give a snap fo' all the tea in china or japan; but grits make bone and muscle. you can do a day's work on a breakfast of the same. only it takes a long time to cook properly, suh; and the sooner we get the pot started the better." "you attend to that, bumpus, please," said giraffe, "and be sure you get enough to satisfy the crowd, even if you have to use two kettles, and the whole package of hominy. i want to talk things over with thad here." bumpus hesitated for a minute. he hardly knew which he wanted to do most, stay there and listen, or return to the fire and begin operations looking to the cooking of that forlorn breakfast. finally, as he received a message from the inner man that it was time some attention was paid to the fact that nature abhorred a vacuum he turned away and trotted toward the camp fire. giraffe, together with thad and allan, tried to follow the trail of the two tramps further, but soon gave it up. after all, the several reasons why they should turn to the other way of rounding up the concealed men appealed strongly to them. later on they returned to the camp, to sit around and wait for their breakfast to cook. nobody looked very cheerful that morning. somehow the fact that they were isolated there on that island with only one meal between them and dire hunger, loomed up like a great mountain before their mental vision. in the end they found that grits did satisfy their hunger remarkably well; and taking giraffe's advice bumpus had actually cooked the entire amount on hand, so there was plenty to go around three times. the tea was another matter, for they had neither sugar nor milk to go with it, and although each fellow managed to drink one cup, some of them made wry faces while disposing of the brewing. "kind of warms you up inside," commented davy, "and that's the only reason i try to get it down; but, oh! you coffee!" "here, none of that, davy," said thad; "scouts have to make the best of a bad bargain, and never complain. we'd be feeling lots worse if it wasn't for this breakfast." "well, suh, i'm quite satisfied, and feel as if i'd had the pick of the land," bob white remarked stoutly. "yes, but you like the stuff, and i never would eat it at home," complained step hen. "time you began to know what good things are, then, suh," the southern boy told him plainly. even bumpus admitted that he felt very good after they had emptied both kettles of the simple fare. for the time being he was able to put the dismal future out of his mind, and actually smile again. thad had not told them as yet what plan he was arranging with regard to hunting down the tramps who were on the island with them, and of course most of the scouts were eager to know. accordingly, after the meal was finished, they began to crowd around and give the scout master hints that they were waiting for him to arrange the details of that "combing" business he had spoken of. "it's going to be a simple matter," thad remarked. "we'll go to the place where the shantyboat went aground, and make our start from there, gradually stretching out until we cover the island from shore to shore, and in that way pushing our quarry further along toward the lower end." "and," pursued giraffe, following the plan in his mind, "as the hoboes will of course object to taking to the water, we'll corral the pair in the end." "do you reckon they've got any sort of gun along, thad?" asked step hen; though it was not timidity that caused him to ask the question, for as a rule he could be depended on to hold his own when it came to showing fight. "we don't know, of course, about that," he was told; "though it's often the case that these tramps carry such a thing, especially the dangerous stripe like this wandering george seems to be." "he didn't pull any gun on the farmer, when mr. bailey caught him robbing his desk, you remember, thad?" davy mentioned. "no, but he upset the lamp, and then skipped out, leaving the inmates of the farmhouse to fight the fire, which was a cowardly thing to do," bumpus observed. "i hadn't forgotten about the chances of them being armed when i spoke of forming a line across the island, and searching every foot of the same," thad explained; "and the way we'll be safe in doing that i'll explain. now, we ought to leave two fellows to look after the camp, with a gun between them. the rest can be divided up into three squads, each couple having one of the other guns. we'll manage to keep in touch with each other, as we work along, zigzag-like, and a signal will tell that the game has been started. do you understand that?" "plain enough, thad," giraffe told him, as he picked up his gun, and in this way signified that he was ready for the start. "huh! but who's going to be left behind?" bumpus wanted to know; his whole demeanor betraying the fact in advance that he could give a pretty good guess as to who _one_ of the unfortunates might prove to be. "i think it would be wiser for me to appoint you and smithy to that post of honor," he was immediately informed by thad; "and you want to understand it is just as important that you do your duty well here, as that we carry out our part of the game. a scout never asks why he's told to do a certain thing, when perhaps he'd like to be in another position. whether he serves as the hub, the tire, or one of the spokes, he feels that he's an important part of the whole wheel, and without him nothing can be done. there's just as much honor in guarding the camp as in creeping through the tangle of vines and scrub bushes. and, bumpus, i'm the one to judge who's best fitted for that sort of work." "thad, i'm not saying a single word," expostulated the stout scout; "fact is, if you come right down to brass tacks, i'm satisfied to stay here, rather than scratch my way along, and p'raps break my nose tumbling. and i'm sure smithy is built the same way. i hope you'll let me hold the gun you leave with us, which ought to be my own repeating marlin, because it's already proved its worth. and, thad, you remember i shot it with some success the time we were out there in the rockies after big game." "that's only a fair bargain, bumpus," he was told by the scout master; "and you can consider it a bargain. we'll look to hear a good report from you when we come back to camp again." "and with our prisoners in charge, too," added the confident giraffe. bumpus saw them depart with a gloomy look, as though he felt that all chances of winning new laurels had been snatched away when he was ordered to keep camp. chapter xxii. drawing the net. whenever thad brewster started to do anything he went about it in a thorough manner. he was no believer in halfway measures, which accounted for much of the success that had crowned his efforts in the past, as those who have read former books in this series must know. he arranged the beating party in such a way that giraffe and davy went together; allan had step hen for a companion; while the southern lad accompanied thad himself. having given the camp keepers a few last instructions, with regard to remaining on the alert, and listening for any signals such as members of the silver fox patrol were in the habit of exchanging while in the woods and separated, thad led the way toward the upper end of the island. they found no trouble in arriving there. the river had indeed fallen very much, and the flat rock upon which the nose of the shanty-boat had been driven by the fierce current was now away out of the water. had the craft remained where it struck it would be high and dry ashore. the boys would not have been human had they not first of all looked yearningly toward the shore, between which and themselves rolled a wide stretch of water. still, as the sun shone brightly, and the air was getting comfortably warm, the outlook did not seem anything like that which they had faced on the preceding morning. and, besides, they had just eaten a breakfast that at least satisfied their gnawing hunger, and that counted for considerable. thad did not waste much time in looking around, but proceeded to business. he had already apportioned his followers, so that everyone knew who his mate was to be. "allan, you and step hen take the right third; giraffe, cover the left side with davy; and we'll look after the middle," he told them, in his quiet yet positive way, that caused the words to sink in and be remembered. "and in case we run across george and his pal we're to give a yell; is that the game, thad?" asked the lengthy scout. "our old shout that we know so well, don't forget," he was told. "an ordinary whoop isn't enough, for somebody might let out that kind if only he tripped and felt himself falling. if you want me to come across, bark like a fox three times. in case you get no answer, repeat the signal; and if that doesn't fetch me, call out my name." "we're on, thad; is that all?" giraffe asked impatiently. "go!" with that they were off, three pair of eager human hounds, bent on discovering the hiding-place of the tramps who had for so long been hovering just ahead of them like one of those strange lights in swampy marshes, a jack-o'-lantern they call it, that keeps eluding your grasp, now appearing here, and then vanishing, to crop up suddenly in another place. to begin with it seemed easy enough to move along. the scrub was not very dense at the upper end of the island, for some reason or other, but seemed to get heavier the further they advanced. acting on the suggestions of thad, each couple spread out a little more as they continued to push on, although remaining in touch with one another. in this way it was possible to cover more ground than by keeping close together. giraffe was certainly in his element. he kept his gun-stock partly under his arm, and was ready to elevate the weapon at a second's warning; in fact, as he prowled along in this way the tall scout looked the picture of a hunter expecting feathered game to flush before him, which he must cover instantly, or expect it to place obstacles between, as a woodcock always will. davy did not like to roam along entirely unarmed, and hence he had hunted up a club, which he gripped valorously. he kept just a little behind giraffe, if an imaginary line were marked across the island from shore to shore. this was because he wished to allow the one who held the firearm a full sweep of territory in case he found occasion to shoot, or even threaten. now and then giraffe would speak to his companion, as a rule asking him to "kindly give a poke in that patch of bushes, where it looks like a man might find it easy to hide"; or "peek into that hole between the rocks, davy--don't be afraid a bear'll come out at you, 'cause there ain't any such good luck waiting for us." by giving various signals the boys managed to maintain something like a straight line as they pushed on. they could see one another frequently, too, which enabled them to keep from forging ahead in any one place. "listen to the crows cawing, will you?" giraffe presently remarked, as though the noise of the flock might be sweet music to his ears, since it told of the life in the open which giraffe dearly loved. "they're a noisy lot, ain't they?" remarked davy; "whatever d'ye s'pose ails that bunch of crows, giraffe? would they scold that way if they just happened to see a pair of hoboes eating breakfast, d'ye think?" "well, it might be they would," the other replied thoughtfully; "and come to think of it they're somewhere down below us, ain't they? hunters often know when game is moving by the signs in the sky; for birds can see down, and they talk, you know, in a language of their own. i've often wished i could understand what crows said when they scolded so hard." just there davy began to move away from his partner again, as he tried to cover his share of the territory; so conversation died out temporarily between them. they had passed the place where the camp fire burned, with bumpus and smithy watching their movements eagerly. the thick brush now hid the camp from their sight, and what lay before them they could only guess. once more davy drew close to his mate, thrusting his club to the right and to the left, in the endeavor not to leave a stone unturned in clearing up the land. "wherever do you think they've gone, giraffe?" he asked, as though beginning to feel the strain of the suspense that hung over them, as they continued this strange hunt for the tramps. "it's my honest opinion," the other replied, "that we ain't going to see a sign of 'em till we get away down to the other end. and they didn't come through here, either, because we'd have run across some sign to tell us that." "then how could they reach the lower end of the island?" demanded davy quickly, thinking he had caught giraffe in a hole. "why, they made off to the beach after they got the stuff, and trailed down that way, which you can understand must have been the easiest, all things considered," the tall scout went on to explain. "i believe in applying that old principle, and figgering what you'd have done if it had been you. and anybody with horse sense'd know it was lots easier tramping on the shore, to this way of breaking through." "still, thad thought we ought to do it?" davy remarked. "thad was right, as he nearly always is," giraffe pursued doggedly; "because this is the only way we can make dead sure. i've got a hunch that they built a fire and proceeded to cook a warm meal. want to know what makes me think so? well, we had an extra box of matches along, and that went with the rest of the things. george knew he needed it. long before now they've had their fire, and it's all day with that grub of ours. we'll get it back when we surround the hoboes; but you won't know it." "what if they won't surrender when we ask 'em?" davy wanted to know. "they'd better go slow about that same," he was immediately told, as giraffe shook his head energetically; "we've got the law on our side, you see, after that pair breaking into the farmhouse the way they did, and showing themselves to be regular robbers as well as tramps, yeggmen they call that kind. if i pinked george, after seeing him threaten me, i couldn't be held responsible for the same. when a man is a fugitive from justice, and the long arm of the law is stretched out to grab him, he hasn't got any rights, you understand. every man's hand is against him, and he's just got to take his medicine, that's all." giraffe had a little smattering of legal knowledge, and he certainly did like to hear himself talk, given half a chance. just then davy seemed to be glad to learn certain facts, upon which he may have been a little hazy. "didn't i hear you talking with step hen the last time you crossed over to his line; or no, it must have been bob white, because he's with thad in the middle track?" giraffe asked, a short time later, as once more he and his partner came into touch. "yes, it was bob speaking to me," admitted the other, "and what d'ye think, he said he believed he had discovered a bee tree, and only wished we would be here long enough to get a chance at the honey." "well, what next, i wonder?" ejaculated giraffe, with the air of one who had received especially good news; "i always did say i liked honey about as well as anything that grew; but, then," he added, as though seized with a sudden depressing remembrance, "what good would all the wild honey going do a fellow when he hasn't got a cupful of flour to make a flapjack with, or a single cracker to eat with the nectar? oh! rats! but this is tough!" "anyhow," davy continued, "bob, he said the tree was a whopper for size, and the hive was away up in a dead limb that we couldn't well reach; so i guess that winds it up for us this trip. and as you say, giraffe, what good would just plain honey do a starving crowd? give me bread before you try to plaster me with honey. still, it's queer how many things we keep finding on this same island, isn't it?" "there goes another rabbit right now, davy; and i could have knocked him over as easy as you please, if i was hunting something to eat, instead of _men_! they always do say what strange things you do see when you haven't got a gun; and with us it runs the other way; for we've got a shooting-iron, but dassen't use the same for fear of alarming our human quarry." "you do manage to put things before a fellow the finest way ever, giraffe," davy told him; "and some of these days i expect to see you making a cracking good lawyer, or an auctioneer, or something that requires the gift of gab. but seems to me we've been poking like this for a long time now. how much further d'ye think the island runs?" "it's some longer'n i had any idea would be the case," admitted giraffe; "but i reckon we're shallowing up now. the shore line looks to me like it's beginnin' to draw in closer, every time i make the beach. if that's so we ought to come together down at the lower end before a great while now." "say, what if we do get there and never once sight george and his pal, giraffe?" "aw! don't be trying to get off conundrums on me, davy; i never was much good guessing the answer," the tall scout went on to complain. "it don't seem like that could happen, because they're here on our island, and we sure haven't left a single place unsearched where a fox could hide. don't borrow trouble, my son. we're bound to corral the pair down at the lower point; and they'll throw up their hands when they see us coming, six abreast, with guns leveled and all that." "i hope so, giraffe; i hope it turns out that way; but i'm not feeling as sure as you are. something seems to keep on telling me we're due for a big surprise, and i'm trying to shut my teeth, so as to be ready to meet it like a scout should always meet trouble." he had hardly said the last word when a large object jumped almost under davy's feet, upsetting him completely. and as he fell over, nimbly turning a complete back-somersault, for davy was as smart at such things as any circus performer, he managed to bawl out wildly: "bear! bear! why don't you shoot it, giraffe?" chapter xxiii. the smoke clew. "bear nothing!" exclaimed the scout who held the gun. he had instinctively elevated the weapon at the first sound of alarm from his ally; and had it been necessary giraffe was in a position to have given a good account of himself, for he was known to be a somewhat clever shot. just in time, however, he had managed to get a better view of the creature that davy had stumbled upon, losing his balance in his excitement. "what was it, then, giraffe, if not a bear? don't tell me it was a dog," demanded the other, having righted himself after his somersault. "didn't you hear him grunt as he ran away?" asked the lengthy one contemptuously; for he might have pressed the trigger of his gun only that just in time his ears had been greeted with the sound in question. "grunt? great cæsar's ghost! was that a _hog_?" almost shrieked davy. "just what it was, a dun-colored hog, and a rousing big critter in the bargain, let me tell you, davy. i saw him as plain as anything, and he ran back of us, you noticed, so we won't be apt to raise him again in a hurry." "but what'd an old grunter be doing out here, tell me, giraffe?" "shucks! how d'ye think i'd know?" returned the other. "expect i'm up in the hog lingo just because i did say i always wanted to understand crow talk? why, for all we know, that hog's been living here since last summer; or else he's another flood victim, and got washed up like we did. they're all doin' it, you know." "well, well, who'd expect to run up against a porker?" dave went on to say, as he sought to grasp the full significance of the adventure, having by now recovered from the shock the sudden surprise had given him. "and giraffe, if a hog this time, what next will we run across? p'raps there might be chickens, and cows, and all sorts of things close by? mebbe the old island's inhabited, after all." "one thing sure," giraffe went on to say, in a satisfied tone, "this beats out robinson crusoe by a whole lot." "as how, giraffe?" "is there any comparison between hogs and goats when it comes to making a good dinner?" demanded the other. "why, don't you see what this means to us, davy? no use talking about going hungry as long as there's such noble hunting on this little patch of ground. me to bag a prize hog, when the right time comes. hams, and sweet little pork chops, and smoked shoulders--oh! we could live a week off that buster, believe me." he smacked his lips, as though the prospect gave him unlimited pleasure. davy himself had known the time when the slaughter of a three-hundred pound hog afforded no occasion for showing more than passing interest; but that was when starvation did not stare him in the face. circumstances alter cases; and he was almost as much excited over the outlook now as the always hungry giraffe seemed to be. "how do we know that this place we've been calling an island isn't connected with the mainland?" was davy's next suggestion. "how d'ye mean?" demanded his ally, as they started on once more. "why, there might be some sort of a link, you see, a sort of isthmus, so to call it, along which the hog made his way, and where we could skip out of the trap; how about that, giraffe?" "nothing doing, davy," came the scornful reply; "didn't we see that the river ran past on both sides like a mill race? well, it wouldn't do that if the way was blocked by a strip of land, would it? not much. we're marooned on a sure-enough island, and you can't get around that. course we might run across a cow yet; same time we'll keep our eyes peeled for a breadfruit tree, and coffee bushes, and truck gardens. nothing like being hopeful through it all." "can hogs swim, giraffe, do you happen to know?" "well, you get me there," returned the other. "i never saw one doing the same; but seems to me i have heard of such a thing. they can do nearly anything, and so swimming may be on their list. i only hope the old chap don't take a notion to clear out of here before i get a crack at him, that's all." "i was only going to say that we might capture the old grunter, and hitch him to a log on which the whole lot of us perched, making him tow the same ashore." of course giraffe understood davy was only joking when he said this, but he chose to pretend to take it seriously. "if you leave it to me to choose, davy," he went on to say gravely, "i'd prefer to have those hams and the bacon, and take my chances of paddling ashore afterward. besides, i don't believe we've got anything to make harness out of, so your great scheme would fall kind of flat. give that bunch of bushes another whack with your club while you're about it, will you? we want to clear up things as we go along, so we'll know the job's been done gilt-edged." "looks like that's an open place ahead, giraffe," ventured davy, after he had complied with the request, and found nothing. "yes, it does seem that way, davy, and p'r'aps now we'll have a chance to look around a bit when we strike it. i was just wondering whether the river could have been up over all this island any old time in the past, and here's the evidence of the same." he pointed to what looked like drift stuff caught in the crotch of a tree. it may have been lodged there years back, but anyone with observation could readily see that it had been carried to its present location by a moving current. "as true as anything, giraffe, and there must have been three feet of water over the highest ground on the island then. lucky the rain stopped when it did, or we might be perched in trees right at this minute." "that's what thad was saying, when he told us it was never so bad but what it might be a whole lot worse. think of the bunch of us being compelled to roost in trees day and night, till somebody came along in a motorboat and rescued us. well, for one, i'm glad things didn't get quite that bad." as they drew closer to the open spot they could see the other scouts advancing on their right, and covering the ground. they exchanged signals, and in this way learned that nothing had thus far been seen of those for whom they were searching. thad drew them together at this point. "from here on we'll be much closer," he told them all, "because it looks as though the end of the island must be just a little ways off, and it seems to come to a point like the upper end. look over there, what do you call that?" and he pointed directly ahead as he spoke. "smoke!" announced old eagle eye instantly. everyone was ready to confirm his announcement, after they had taken a look. "and as there couldn't be smoke without a fire, and no fire unless some human hand had started it," the scout master continued, in his logical way, "it looks as if we might be closing in on those we're hunting for, wandering george and his pal." "well, since they've had a fire that means the finish of our grub," commented giraffe; "but then, it's only what we expected; and, thad, there's a great big hog on this island--no, don't laugh, because i'm not referring to bumpus now. i mean a real porker, a whopper of several hundred pounds weight. davy stepped on him, and i could have knocked the beast over as easy as turning my hand. so we don't need to have any fear of being starved out, if it gets to the worst." "that sounds good to me, giraffe, and i can see that you're not joking," thad told him. "we heard some sort of a row over your way, but thought it was only one of you tripping over those creepers. a hog may not seem like very fine company, but that depends on conditions. just now we'll be glad to know him, and to offer him the warmest seat close by our fire. fact is, we'll take him as a companion, and let him be one of us. now, let's make our line again, for we want to push down toward that fire below." "there's another patch of scrub ahead, before we get to the point of the island, and we might lose our game in that if we didn't keep the net drawn across, for a fact," admitted allan, who of course recognized the wisdom shown by the leader in continuing the carrying out of his plan. once more they separated, but this time it was not necessary to put much ground between them. when the line had formed all eyes were turned toward thad. he waved his hat, which was the signal to begin the advance; so again each scout moved on as before, examining every possible cover for signs of the enemy. they had thus made a clean sweep of the island. rabbits may have escaped them by hiding in crannies among the rocks; and squirrels could have remained aloft in their nests inside hollow limbs of trees, or secreted amidst the foliage of the evergreen hemlocks; but certainly no larger object had evaded them. as they continued to close in on the spot where the smoke arose, the scouts very naturally felt more or less the thrill of excitement. they knew full well what it meant, for many times in the past the same queer sensation had almost overpowered them. this chase had been in progress long enough now to have aroused their hunting instincts. that the old blue army coat should eventually be returned to the judge was to most of them a small affair, for they of course did not know the real reason why its recovery mattered to the former owner; but they had somehow set their hearts on accomplishing the object they had in view. and the more difficulty they met with in doing this, the stronger their desire grew. the trees became more sparse, so that before long they caught glimpses of the fire itself. it was not burning very briskly, though sending off considerable in the way of smoke, a fact that convinced the scouts these hoboes knew nothing concerning woodcraft, and the habits of indians in making fires of certain kinds of dry fuel that hardly send up any smoke at all. now the scouts, having finished their "combing" process, began to gather together for the final rush. they had reached the open ground, where no object half the size of a man could evade them, so they felt they need have no fear of either one of the hoboes passing by. "i see one of them lying there, like he might be asleep, thad," whispered one of the scouts; and of course it could be taken for granted that it was giraffe, of the eagle eye, who spoke. "the second fellow may be on the other side of the fire, back of the smoke," remarked step hen; but somehow neither thad nor allan could believe this, because the smoke was drifting that way, and they knew very well no one willingly places himself on the leeward side of a smudge like that, suffocating in its effect. the further they crept the more concerned did thad and the maine boy become. they could see the sleeping tramp by now, and it was with more or less uneasiness they realized the fact that he must be other than wandering george. besides, not the first sign of the blue army overcoat did they discover anywhere. while thus preparing to close in on the sleeping tramp, and give him a very unpleasant surprise, the scouts were feeling stunned over the mysterious disappearance of the man they had been following so far, and whom they felt sure must have been on that very island only a comparatively few hours before. thad kept hoping that the second hobo would start up from some place when they made their presence known; and it was in this expectation that he finally swung his hat, which started his five companions on a hasty run toward the smoking fire. chapter xxiv. the capture. the scouts had been eagerly awaiting this motion with the hat on the part of the patrol leader. it acted on them about in the same way the bang of a starting pistol might with a string of nerve-strained sprinters, anxious to leap forward, with a prize in view to the first under the tape. many times before had they found themselves in just this same position, with thad deciding the start. giraffe, the fastest in the bunch, was crouched in his accustomed attitude, looking somewhat like a big, wiry cat getting ready to spring; while bob white, step hen, allan and davy jones each had assumed an attitude best suited to his particular method of starting. at the same time all of them understood this was not going to be a race. they had been instructed to spread out a little, after the manner of an open fan, as they advanced. this was to give the tramp as little chance to escape as they possibly could. well, the hat, after being poised for a few preliminary seconds in mid-air, was suddenly swung downward with a violent dip. that meant in the plainest of language "go!" and every fellow made a forward move. giraffe had been given one of the outer lines, since that meant he would have a little more ground to cover; and no one was better fitted for this than the lanky scout. nature had built him for a runner from the ground up; he did not have a superfluous ounce of fat on him, but was all muscle, and, as giraffe often proudly declared, his flesh was "as hard as nails." it was a pretty sight to see those five fellows in khaki begin to spread out in that systematic way, just as though each one might consider himself a part of a machine. thad had purposely taken the center, so that he could keep an eye on every part of the field. it is always considered the best thing for a captain on a baseball club to be posted somewhere in the diamond, preferably on third base, as that gives him a chance to watch the game closely. it also allows him the opportunity of running in frequently and arguing with the umpire over disputed plays. so far nothing had happened to warn the dozing tramp of their coming. all of the boys had gotten under way without a single mishap in the line of a stumble, which would serve to warn their intended victim. he was still sprawled out alongside the warm fire, and doubtless enjoying himself in true hobo style, caring nothing as to what went wrong with the world, so long as he did not miss a meal. thad would have been much better satisfied could he have glimpsed that badly wanted army coat somewhere around; but its absence, although to be regretted, must not interfere with the programme he had laid out. the distance from the shelter of the brush to the fire was not very great, and could have been covered speedily only for the desire on the part of the scouts to take the man by surprise. step hen spoiled this by an unfortunate stumble, which was rather singular, because as a rule he had proved sure-footed. it chanced, however, that step hen was watching the reclining figure by the fire so closely that he did not notice some obstruction lying in his path, so that the first thing he knew he caught his toe, and measured his full length on the ground. of course that spoiled the surprise part of the game. thad knew it instantly, as the tramp's head came up, and accordingly he uttered a quick command. "rush him!" with that each scout jumped forward, eager to be the first to close in on the enemy. those who had guns displayed them threateningly, while the others waved their clubs in a way that needed no explanation as to what use they expected to make of the same presently. if the actions of the invaders of the hobo camp were rapid the same could be said concerning the movements of the lone inmate. he must have realized the desperation of his position the very instant he sighted those advancing boys in khaki, with such a ferocious display of various weapons of defense and offense, for like a flash he scrambled to his feet. as it was hardly to be expected that the tramp had prepared himself against a surprise like this, the chances were he acted solely from impulse. giraffe fully expected he would try and go around their outermost guards, and with memories of similar tactics employed on the gridiron he changed his course somewhat in order to cut off this flight. it was a mistake, for the fellow never once endeavored to flee. instead of this he leaped over to a pile of rocks that chanced to lie close by, forming a species of pyramid. the boys saw him throw himself into the midst of this, even while they were rushing forward, though they could not anticipate what his scheme might be. events are apt to happen with lightning-like rapidity under such conditions as these, and the first thing the boys knew there was a sharp report as of a pistol, and a puff of smoke burst from the pile of rocks that thrilled them to the core. "he's got a gun!" snapped giraffe, looking to thad to give the order to send back as good as they received. it was a time for quick thinking. the tramp was evidently a desperate sort of fellow, who, finding himself in danger of arrest, meant to stand out to the end. he may not have tried to injure any of them when he fired that shot, but all the same it gave the boys a chill, and several of them involuntarily ducked their heads, as if they fancied the hobo had picked them out for his target, and that they had heard the whiz of the lead past their ears. thad sized up the situation in that speedy way of his. occasions sometimes crop up that call for the promptest kind of action; and surely this looked like one of that kind. "allan, keep on in the center, and i'll turn his flank!" he shouted. "bend down, everybody, and get behind a rock if you can. we've just _got_ to land him, that's all there is about it!" even while saying this the scout master was on the jump, and, passing allan as well as bob white, he sped toward the edge of the water, making a half circle. there was another sharp report from the rocks, but, although the boys held their breath while watching their leader run, they rejoiced to see that he gave no sign of having been injured by the tramp's firing. every boy was keyed up to what giraffe would call "top-notch" condition; doubtless hands quivered while they clutched gun or club, and hearts beat with the rapidity of so many trip-hammers. but to their credit it could be said that not one of them as much as looked back over their shoulders, to see if the way for retreat was open. that spoke well for their courage, at least. thad reached the spot which he had set out to attain, and instantly whirled, to aim his gun toward the rock pile. it was just as he had anticipated, for the tramp, while sheltered on the one side, was fully exposed on that looking down the river. "surrender, or it'll be the worse for you!" shouted thad. "jump him, boys!" roared giraffe, utterly unable to keep back a second longer, while his nerves were quivering in that furious fashion. when step hen and the other four saw the impetuous right end start straight toward the rock pile, they gave a shout, and proceeded to imitate his example. boys are a good deal like sheep in many ways, and when one takes a venture he is certain to be copied by others. from all sides they were thus closing in rapidly on the hobo who was at bay, and every fellow was giving vent to his excitement in shouts and screeches calculated to complete the collapse of the tramp's defiance. he knew when he had had enough. serious though arrest might appear to him under the present conditions, it would be a dozen fold worse should he fire that weapon of his again, and succeed in injuring one of these brave lads. besides, he must have been more or less influenced by the handy way they carried those guns. this being the case, the tramp at bay suddenly threw up both his hands, at the same time bawling: "hey! don't shoot; i'm all in, gents; i surrender!" the furious shouts now ceased, since the object of their rush had apparently been accomplished. thad, however, was too smart a leader to lose any advantage that fortune had placed in his hands. "throw out that gun!" he called in his sternest voice; "and be quick about it, if you know what's good for you!" the man hastened to obey the order. no doubt he understood that his captors were only boys; but there may be circumstances where cubs are just as dangerous as full-grown men; and this is the case when they happen to be provided with firearms. "come out here, and keep your hands up!" continued the patrol leader, who did not trust the fellow, and while speaking he kept his gun leveled so that it bore straight upon him. the hobo looked disgusted, as well he might at finding himself a victim to such humiliating conditions, with boys his captors. he scowled darkly as he left the partial shelter of the rocks, and advanced several paces toward the scouts. "that'll do," thad told him; "now lie down on the sand on your face, and put your hands behind you. we've got to tie your wrists, you understand. here, don't think to play any trick, because we won't stand for it! down on your knees, and over you go!" realizing that such a young chap was not to be trifled with, the tramp, muttering to himself, did as he was ordered. lying there on his chest he pushed both hands behind his back, and crossed his wrists, just as though this might not be the first time he had run up against a similar situation. "giraffe, you fix him up!" said the patrol leader, for the lengthy scout had a reputation as an expert in tying hard knots, and was never known to be without more or less stout cord on his person. it had come in handy many a time in the past, as giraffe could explain if asked, and he produced his coil now with a satisfied grin that told how much he enjoyed his new job. after giraffe had completed the fastening of the hobo's big wrists, there was not one chance in a thousand the fellow could free himself, even if he were a second houdini, capable of slipping handcuffs from his person by doubling up his pliable hands. this done, giraffe got up, and helped the man rise to his feet. "behave yourself now, and we'll treat you white," he told him; "but just try to make trouble, and see what you get, that's all. but, thad, where d'ye reckon his pal has disappeared to, that he ain't around here? we covered every foot of the island from the other end, and didn't scare him up. half a loaf may be better than no bread, but we didn't come after this fellow at all. we want wandering george, and we want him bad." thad himself was bothered to tell how the second tramp had disappeared. if the ground had opened and swallowed him he could not have vanished more completely; and apparently there was only one source of information open to them. this was the prisoner, who stood there, listening to what they were saying, and trying hard to conceal a grin that would creep over his face in spite of him. that very cunning expression convinced thad the man knew the important fact they wanted to find out, if only they could force him to speak. chapter xxv. forced to tell. "where's your partner?" asked thad, turning suddenly on the prisoner. the tramp tried to look at him as if in surprise. undoubtedly he was hugging the one hope to his heart that as long as his companion remained foot-free there might be a chance for his release. that idea of self-interest was undoubtedly the only thing that would account for his desire to remain mute. "my partner?" he went on to say, as though not understanding what was meant. "yes, the man who was with you, wandering george, the fellow who wore the blue army overcoat that was given to him by a lady in cranford a few days ago?" "oh! you mean him, does you?" the hobo replied, with a knowing nod; "that guy gimme the slip yesterday, and never divvied with me either. i'd like right well to set eyes on george myself, and that's no lie. i got a bone tuh pick with him." "you're telling what isn't true, now," said thad severely. "we happen to know that you two came here in the hold of the shanty boat we were on. last night george crept into our camp, and got away with nearly all our food stuff. there's a piece of the bacon right now, giraffe, which ought to please you some. what have you got to say about that, mr. tramp?" "it was me sneaked your camp, kid; i was nigh starved out, and nawthin' couldn't keep me from takin' chances," the other boldly replied. "tell that to the marines!" giraffe blurted out. "thad, you don't believe him, do you? we know better than that, don't we?" "the man who crept into our camp had a rag tied around his right foot to keep the torn sole of his shoe on," thad went on to say positively, as though clinching matters beyond all question; "and we can see that both your shoes are fairly decent, so it couldn't have been you. besides, there were two pairs of tracks making the trail. you waited for him back of the bushes, and both went off together. now, you see how foolish it is trying to yarn out of it. where is george?" the man looked into that flushed but determined face. he saw something in those steady eyes that convinced him the leader of these boys in khaki was not the one to be further trifled with. so he gave a nervous little laugh. "well, you sure got me twisted up, and kinked tuh beat the band, kid," he said. "i got a pal, jest as you sez, an' his handle is george. but jest where he might be at this minit is more'n i c'n say." "but he's on the island, isn't he?" demanded step hen. "he shore is, 'less he's took a crazy notion to try an' swim over tuh the shore, which wouldn't be like cautious george a bit." "he was here with you, how long ago?" asked allan; "you must have cooked breakfast this morning with that fire, and he sat right here, where i can see the mark of his broken shoe. where did he go, and when?" "that's what we want to know!" added giraffe sternly. the tramp saw that he was cornered. one by one his defenses had been beaten down. these energetic boys would not stand for any further holding back on his part; and unless he wished to invite rough treatment it was now up to him to tell all he knew. "well, george was sittin' there, as you sez, younker, an' he takes a sudden notion that he wants tuh find out what the rest o' the folks of this island 'spected to do so's tuh get away. that bein' the case, he sez to me, sez he: 'i reckons i'll stroll up a ways, and take a look around. if there's anything doin' in the boat line we might want tuh cop it, and clear out.' and so he goes off, an' i ain't seen the first sign o' george since then." "how long ago might that have been?" asked thad. "i been asleep nearly all the time since, so how could i tell?" came the reply. "by looking at the sun," the patrol leader told him; "you know how high it was when george went away. and hoboes never have any need of a watch." "'cept to hock, and get cash on the same, kid," the man remarked, with a grin, at the same time casting a quick glance upward; "well, i reckon it might 'a' been all o' an hour back when george, he passed away." the boys looked at each other in some perplexity. since they had certainly covered the whole island, they could not understand how it came they had missed the other tramp. he was a big fellow, and could not have hidden in any hole among the rocks that they had noticed. the mystery bothered them, from thad down to step hen and davy. "what if he did take a notion to try and swim for it?" suggested the latter, as giraffe was scratching his head, and looking in a helpless fashion at thad. "not one chance in a thousand that way," replied the patrol leader; "i call myself a fairly good swimmer, but i'd hate to take the chances of that current, and the rocks under the surface. no, he must be on the island still." "but whereabouts, thad; didn't we cover the ground, every foot of it, while we came down here?" pleaded step hen. "i wonder, now?" thad was saying half aloud, as though a sudden inspiration had broken in upon him. "what is it, thad?" begged giraffe; "sounds like you've got an idea, all right. let's hear it, won't you?" "there's only one way we could have missed him," replied the other; "and that would mean he hid in a tree." there arose a series of exclamations from the other scouts. "well, what d'ye think of that, now?" cried giraffe, apparently taken aback by the suggestion; "we kept our noses turned to the ground so much none of us ever bothered looking up, did we?" "but, thad, the leaves ain't on the trees yet, so how could he hide from us? do you mean he got behind a big limb, and lay there like a squirrel?" davy demanded. "you forget there are some hemlocks on the island, and every one of us knows how easy it would be for a fellow to hide in their bushy tops any time of year," thad told him. "what's the answer?" snapped giraffe, always wanting action, and then more action. "we've got to go back again, and find him, that's all," said thad, with a look of grim determination on his face. "how about this fellow?" remarked allan. "do we want to trot him along with us?" and he jerked his thumb at the prisoner as he said this. thad considered for a short time. "that would be poor business, i'm thinking," he concluded. "we'd better leave him here until we want him again." "i've got more strong cord," giraffe suggested; "and we could tie him to a tree, like the injuns used to do with their captives." "oh! there ain't any need tuh do that, boys," argued the hobo, who apparently did not fancy such an arrangement. "i'll set right here, and never move while you're gone, sure i will." "we'll make certain that you stay where we leave you," thad told him. giraffe only waited for the word, and immediately backed the tramp to a tree that seemed suited for the purpose. then he wound the cord around as many times as it would go, and tied it in hard knots. as the hobo still had his hands fastened behind him, and could not begin to get at the knots with his teeth, it looked as though he would have to stay there until the scouts were pleased to release him. "now what, thad?" asked the energetic giraffe, picking up his gun again. "go back the same way we came," the other replied. "covering the ground, you mean, only this time we'll look into every tree in the bargain; that's the programme, is it, thad?" asked step hen. "yes." again the boys began to spread out, and in this manner was the captured tramp left behind. he realized that it was useless trying to influence them to change their minds, and so resigned himself to his fate. giraffe had secured the remains of the strip of bacon, and was dangling this from his left hand as he went along. apparently he did not mean to take any chances of it getting away from him again; and of course bob white noted his action with a nod of appreciation. it was slow work now, because they had to investigate each likely tree that was approached. some of these were of a type calculated to afford a refuge for anyone who wished to hide. several times one of the boys, usually the spry davy, was sent aloft to make sure the object of their search was not hiding there. thad began to wonder if anything could have happened at their camp. he remembered that they had left the two weakest scouts on guard, and this worried him. often as he pushed on, thad had strained his hearing, dreading at the same time lest he catch sounds of serious import. but beyond the chatter of the crows that flew scolding ahead of them, and the scream of an early red-headed woodpecker tapping at a rotten tree trunk, there was no sound, unless he took into consideration the fretting of the water sweeping past outlying spurs of the island shore. they had passed nearly halfway when giraffe beckoned to the leader, without saying a single word, upon which thad of course hastened toward him. when the lanky scout pointed to the ground, thad immediately turned his eyes in that quarter. he was not very much surprised at discovering the plain imprint of a shoe there in the soil. "george made it," said giraffe solemnly, "because there's that old rag tied about his foot, as we've always found it. and, thad, of course you notice that he was heading up country when he passed by here?" "yes, that's certainly a fact, giraffe." "showing he came down out of his tree, and went on after we passed him. davy was right when he said he believed he could see signs in that last hemlock as if some one had broken the bark with his heels. it was wandering george, all right; and this time we've got him ahead of us. we'll not let him give us the slip again; and it'll be something of a joke to get a tramp at each end of the island. but what are you thinking about, thad, to look so serious?" "i was wondering whether anything could have happened to our two chums, giraffe." "oh! you must mean bumpus and smithy!" ejaculated the lanky scout, with a quick intake of his breath, as though a thrill had passed over him at the same time; "but, thad, they had a gun, you remember; and if they kept on the watch, as you told 'em, what could happen to hurt the boys?" "i don't know, only it bothers me," replied the other; "and if we can hurry on any faster now i'd like to do it." the word was passed along the line, and after that they tried to increase their speed, though trying not to neglect their work, if it could be avoided. as they drew closer to the region where the camp had been made, thad was conscious of feeling a strange sensation in the region of his heart, which he could not wholly understand. giraffe made out to wander close to him on occasion, and was at this time saying with more or less confidence: "only a few minutes more, thad, and we ought to raise the camp. sure we'll find everything lovely, and the goose hanging high. george would know better than to bother two fellows, and one of the same handling a gun in the bargain. course he sheered off, and gave them a wide berth when he saw that, thad. it's going to come out all right, i tell you!" nevertheless the patrol leader felt very anxious as they drew near the camp, and he tried to prepare himself for the worst. chapter xxvi. the keepers of the camp. when bumpus and smithy saw their comrades pass away toward the north, leaving the camp in their full charge, they were immediately impressed with a sense of great responsibility. the stout scout in particular seemed to feel that it was a post of honor to which they had been assigned by the patrol leader. of course this was partly due to what thad had told him at the time he picked out the pair to remain behind and take care of their few possessions. "we've got to be faithful and wide awake, smithy," bumpus told his comrade; "for it'd be a terrible calamity if the boys came back here, tired and played out, only to find that the enemy had captured the camp in their absence. and let me tell you, that would reflect on you and me forever and a day afterward. you know that thad expects every fellow to do his duty. so we'll keep on the watch every minute of the time till they come back again." smithy appeared to be duly impressed with the gravity of the occasion. bumpus of course made sure to carry the only weapon that had been left in their charge; but as it was his gun, and he knew more about handling it than smithy did, it seemed only right that this should be so. but the other member of the home guard had seen some of the boys who went off arming themselves with stout cudgels, and he thought it wise to imitate their example, though at the same time seriously doubting his ability to make good use of the same, should an emergency arise. "yes, what you say is true, bumpus," he remarked seriously. "the motto of all good scouts is 'be prepared,' and we must surely live up to it. while i sincerely hope nothing will happen to call for a defense of the camp, still i'm ready to assume my share of the burden in case of necessity." now, smithy always liked to use long words, and his manner was something like that of an important pedagogue; but the boys had learned that under all this surface veneering smithy was true gold, and, as giraffe said, "o. k." he had never been the one to indulge in rough-and-tumble "horse play" while in camp, like giraffe, step hen and davy, for instance; but on several occasions the others had seen his metal tested, and smithy had come out with flying colors. his face might get white when danger impended, but he had the right kind of nerve, and would stand up for another, no matter what threatened. smithy was exceedingly modest, and always apologizing for his lack of stamina; but thad knew he was no coward under it all. the minutes passed slowly as the two boys sat there by the cheery fire. naturally they kept listening eagerly, half expecting to hear some sudden wild clamor that would announce the discovery of the tramps, and a desperate effort on the part of their chums to make them prisoners. they remembered that these men were both big fellows, and undoubtedly more or less to be feared, especially when their passions were aroused. "don't seem to be anything doing so far," bumpus remarked, as he poked the fire, and immediately afterward raised his head, as well as his fat neck would allow, the better to listen intently. "and you'd think they'd had sufficient time to reach the upper end of the island, too?" smithy went on to say reflectively. "oh! well, the real drive only begins then, you see," bumpus informed him, with rather an important air. "thad said they meant to strike straight for the place where we landed, and then comb the ground as they came along. i don't just know what he meant by that same word, but it sounds good to me. when you comb a thing you get everything out, even the tangles; and if the tramps are hiding somewhere on the island they'll be found." "trust thad for that," assented smithy, who had the greatest admiration for and confidence in the scout master. "what was that moved then?" exclaimed bumpus, reaching out, and taking hold of his gun with hands that trembled more or less, though at the same time his teeth were grimly set, and his eyes shone with determination. "sho!" he added, after a half minute of terrible suspense, "look at that, will you, only a sassy little striped chipmunk, after all, frisking around to see if we hadn't spilled some crumbs when we had our breakfast. but i'm afraid he'll be badly disappointed, because there ain't any crumbs when you've only had grits for your morning meal." after that they sat there for some little time with senses on the alert, waiting for some sign from the chums who had recently left them. "one thing sure," bumpus finally remarked, showing what was constantly on his mind; "they've just got to pass by this way sooner or later. course we'll see 'em then; and so don't be surprised if the brush begins to move over yonder, because it'll be one of our chums." "but wouldn't it be the proper caper for them to warn us before they show up?" asked smithy. "they know you've got a gun, and that's always a dangerous toy for a boy to handle, according to my way of thinking. why, you might imagine they were the tramps, and give them a shot before you saw they were our chums." "listen!" said bumpus, with a broad grin. there came from amidst the thick brush a peculiar sound that was supposed to resemble the barking of a fox. of course both guards recognized it as the well-known signal with which members of the silver fox patrol made their presence known to one another when in the forest, or in the darkness of night. "answer him, bumpus," exclaimed smithy, "because you can do it better than i've ever been able to. there he goes again, and louder than before. it must be giraffe, i should think. let him know we hear him, bumpus." accordingly the stout boy did his very best to imitate the sharp little bark of a fox; it did not matter whether red, black or gray, so long as the sound carried out the idea intended. at that a head arose above a line of brush, and the smiling face of giraffe was discovered. he made a motion with his hand to indicate that he and his five fellow scouts were headed south. "no signs of 'em so far, giraffe?" asked bumpus, in a cautious tone; and in answer the other shook his head in the negative, after which he once more dropped out of sight, and doubtless moved away on his mission. the pair by the fire now prepared for quite a long siege. they guessed that it would take the others quite some time to cover the balance of the island, although of course no one in the patrol knew as yet just what the dimensions of their strange prison might be. "supposing they run across george and his companion, will they let us know of their good fortune?" smithy asked, after a while, when nothing came to their ears save the sound of the running river and the cawing of the noisy crow band in the tree tops. "why, yes," bumpus told him, "thad promised to send the news along if they were successful, and bagged both hoboes. i keep hoping every minute to get the call. you know, smithy, lots of savage people have a way of sending news by sound, and by smoke, from one station to another. they say in africa they can get word over hundreds of miles in less'n no time. i'm a great believer in that sort of wireless telegraphy." "yes," remarked smithy, with something approaching humor, at least as near as he ever was known to get to the joking stage, "i've noticed that, when you start to shouting for your supper, because you can make the greatest racket going. but all the same this thing of keeping camp while the rest of the boys are on the move is rather prosy, i think." "why, thad assured me that any kind of a fellow could just push through all that scramble of brush; but it takes a different sort to be trusted with the responsible task of guarding the home base. he begged me not to think it meant any reflection on our abilities, smithy. yes, he even called us the hub of the wheel, of which each of the others was only a spoke." that information rather bolstered up smithy's drooping spirits for a little while; but the solemn stillness that surrounded them on all sides soon began to make him drowsy again. he had not secured his customary sleep latterly, and the warmth of the fire assisted in causing his eyes to become heavy. bumpus noticed this. several times he talked to his companion, with the sole idea of keeping smithy on the alert; but in the end he found that it did not seem to avail to any extent, for the replies he received were inclined to be hazy, as if the brain of the other had begun to yield to that drowsy feeling. "oh! well," bumpus told himself, "what's the use bothering the poor tenderfoot? smithy isn't used to this, even if he is a pretty good fellow. he's still mamma's darling boy more or less, and not accustomed to roughing it, like the rest of us. he'll learn in time, i reckon. fortunately there's no danger of _me_ failing to stand the great test. huh! i've been through the mill, i have, and proven my worth more'n once." all the same it seemed that despite his brave words bumpus also felt his eyes growing heavy before long. once he even aroused with a start, as his head fell forward with a lurch, giving him a little twinge in his neck. "here, this won't do, bumpus hawtree!" he told himself severely; "you just get busy, and show what a loyal, faithful scout you are. want thad to drop in here, and find you sound asleep on your post, do you? well, that would be a nice pickle, believe me. smithy is only a poor tenderfoot at best, and not a seasoned veteran. he might be excused, but what would happen to you, tell me that?" the idea seemed so monstrous that bumpus immediately scrambled to his feet, although his actions did not seem to interfere at all with the peaceful dreams of the sleeping scout. smithy still sat there, with his head bowed down on his breast, and no doubt resting under the happy belief that he was once more safe at home, after all this trying flight along the flood-swept valley of the susquehanna. bumpus walked away. he thought he would feel more wide-awake if he gave that fire the cold shoulder, and exercised his benumbed limbs some. he took his gun, of course, for bumpus had learned a certain degree of caution through his former experiences; and it turned out to be a most fortunate thing he had that sagacity. after walking about for a little while bumpus settled down alongside a tree, and once more allowed himself to think of a number of events connected with the past, as well as his pleasant home, now so far away. he was aroused by what seemed to be the crackling of a twig. this startled him, because his scout training declared that such a sound must always be accounted exceedingly suggestive. bumpus silently arose to his knees, and, gripping his gun tightly in his fat hands, looked all around him. a slight movement caught his attention. it was directly toward the fire that he looked, and what he saw thrilled him through and through. a man was actually creeping forward on hands and knees, stealing along with a manner suggestive of a cat. bumpus did not need to note the fact that this party was wearing a blue army overcoat, now muddy, and rather forlorn-looking, to realize that it could be no other than the long-lost wandering george, the tramp whom they had trailed all the way from far-distant scranton. that he had some evil design in approaching the camp so secretly there could be no possible doubt. smithy was still dozing there, and would fall an easy prey to the scheming tramp, unless some comrade came boldly to the rescue. so bumpus drew in a long breath, clinched his teeth, and rising to his feet moved forward. chapter xxvii. headed for home--conclusion. "just hold on there, george; you're under arrest!" bumpus called out; and if his voice happened to be a trifle shaky, the fact did not seem to interfere with the clever way in which he swung that gun up, so as to cover the tramp. smithy awoke, and was stunned at what he saw. he sat there, turning his head, to stare first at the figure clothed in the blue army coat, and then at his comrade, seen just topping the bushes, and looking so like he meant business. smithy would long remember that fine sight. the hobo knew he was caught. guns had a very persuasive way with george, and he had learned long ago to fight shy of all farmhouses where it was known the owner possessed firearms. "don't shoot, young feller!" he immediately bellowed, with astonishing energy; "i ain't goin' ter try an' git away. say, i was jest a-wantin' ter surrender, so's ter git off'n this island. i ain't never yet starved ter death, an' i don't wanter try the same. i'm a prisoner o' war, an' ye wouldn't be so mean's as ter pepper a harmless man, i hopes, boy?" bumpus proceeded to advance, all the while keeping that menacing gun leveled. he had had a previous experience in capturing a supposed-to-be desperate rascal, and felt that he must be cautious in how he handled matters. "smithy, is there a piece of that rope handy?" he demanded; and the other scout after a hasty look around made an affirmative reply. "there certainly is, bumpus, and it seems to be a good strong piece, too," he went on to say. "please tell me what you want me to do with it. i know how to tie all sorts of perfectly splendid knots; if only the wretch won't seize hold of me, and make use of me as a shield. they're all so very treacherous, you know, bumpus." "sure, i understand that, smithy," he was told, "but i'm up to a trick or two on my own hook. here, you george, just drop down on your marrow bones--that means get on your knees." the tramp looked anything but happy, but when he hesitated bumpus swung his gun up again, and it could be easily seen that he was ready for business. so george immediately dropped down on his knees, with his hands still raised in a really grotesque fashion above his head. "now, i don't mean to ask you to say your prayers, because i reckon you never learned any," bumpus proceeded briskly; "but continue the forward movement. in other words, fall flat on your face, and stretch out there, with your nose rooting in the ground. no back talk now, but do what you're told!" george did so. he evidently knew better than to refuse so modest a request, especially while threatened with a load of shot at close quarters. then bumpus advanced close up. "smithy," he said, with a grand air, as became a conqueror, "use your rope, and tie his wrists behind his back. if there's enough left, give a turn around his ankles, will you, please? and whatever you do, let it be thorough. that's what scouts are taught to always be, you know." under the immediate eye of bumpus the tramp was triced up, after which the two boys dragged him behind a screen of bushes. bumpus was in constant apprehension lest the second hobo appear on the scene, and managed to keep his eyes turned this way and that as the minutes passed on. it seemed as though the morning must be wearing away when finally the barking of a fox, so excellently done that it would have deceived an old hunter, announced the near presence of allan and thad, and likely the others besides. when they entered the camp they seemed to be laboring under some excitement; but bumpus had warned smithy not to give their secret away immediately. "well, what luck did you have, boys?" asked the stout lad, as one and then another of the six filed past him to the vicinity of the fire. "we cornered one of the precious pair down at the extreme end of the island," acknowledged giraffe; "but george gave us the slip somehow. we figured he must have hid in a hemlock top, and after we passed come on up here; and since we ran across his trail not far from camp some of us began to get cold feet for fear that you two might have been surprised and taken prisoner. we're all as glad as hops to see that was a false alarm, bumpus and smithy." "but have you seen anything of george?" asked thad, who believed there was something decidedly odd about the way the features of the two guards were working, as though they might be doing everything in their power to conceal some secret. of course bumpus had by that time reached the limit of his endurance, especially since smithy gave a big yell, unable to hold in any further. "go and take a look back of the bushes there; that's the answer, boys!" bumpus remarked, trying to look indifferent, though really trembling all over with the joyful excitement. there was an immediate rush in the quarter pointed out; and then shouts that might have easily been heard at the lower end of the island. "well, what d'ye think of that, now?" giraffe was saying, in his usual boisterous manner; "if they haven't gone and done it, capturing the long-lost george as nice as you please! yes, and there's that old engineer's army coat, too; mebbe the judge won't be glad to get that keepsake back again!" thad was especially well pleased. of course this was partly on account of having finally accomplished the task that had been set before him, because he always felt satisfied when he could look back to duty well done. besides, he fairly gloried in the fact that the two tenderfeet of the patrol, as they might still be called, had succeeded in covering themselves with honor in having captured the second desperate rascal. the first thing thad did was to stand the tramp up, remove his bonds, and make him strip off the blue coat that had once kept the judge's son warm while serving uncle sam during our late war with spain, after which he saw to it that george had his hands bound again. two of the boys were dispatched along the shore, where the walking was better, to bring back the other prisoner. to another pair was given the task of setting up a pole on an elevated part of the island, bearing a white flag, which, if seen by anyone on the distant shore, might be the means of bringing a boat to the rescue of the marooned ones. meanwhile thad investigated, and found that apparently george had had no suspicion that there was anything sewed inside the red lining of the army coat given to him by mrs. whittaker. feeling carefully along the sides, thad discovered that at a certain place there seemed to be something nestled; and when he held the garment close to his ear he was able to catch a slight rustling sound when he bent it back and forth; so he concluded the paper must be safe. there was enough of the bacon and other things left, it happened, to give them a scanty feed at noon; and they had high hopes that before another night came the conditions would be vastly improved. this confidence proved well founded, for along about three o'clock giraffe, who had set himself to be the lookout, came running into camp with the cheering news that two boats were coming from the shore, and that the period of their captivity on the island had reached its end. it turned out that those rowing the boats were men who had been sent out by the authorities to look for any families in distress because of the flood in the susquehanna region. there was ample room aboard for the eight scouts, as well as their two prisoners; and in due time they landed on the bank, overjoyed to know that not only were they free once more, but that their principal object in making this long hike had been handsomely accomplished. giraffe and bumpus shook hands solemnly when the fact was mentioned that they had been invited to stay over at a neighboring farmhouse, where they could obtain a bountiful supper and sleep in the barn. that meant supreme happiness to the lengthy and the stout members of the patrol, the "fat and the lean of it," as giraffe himself would say. thad was careful to see that the two tramps were handed over to the authorities. all the evidence needed to convict them of the robbery of the bailey home was discovered on their persons, for they had been tempted to take several little valuable bits of jewelry that fastened the crime on them when found in their pockets. he felt that they were well rid of the rascals when the two men were led away; nor did any of the scouts ever set eyes on wandering george or his companion again. since all of the patrol were exceedingly tired, it can safely be assumed that they slept soundly on that night. the hay was sweet; they had been given a bountiful supper, such as only farmers' wives know how to spread before guests; and bumpus had done himself proud when called upon to entertain their host's family with a number of favorite songs, as well as by the dexterous use of his bugle, upon which he dearly loved to play, and with considerable effect. when another day dawned the boys were given a breakfast they would not soon forget, nor would the kind lady accept a single cent in payment for the same, declaring that she and her family had enjoyed having the scouts remain a night with them, and that they had learned a thousand things about their work such as they had long been wishing to know. the homeward march was begun; and as time was passing rapidly now, thad thought it only right they should take advantage of the fact that a trolley covered a considerable number of miles between cranford and the point they were at. none of them objected to this means of lightening their labors, for several among the scouts had complained that their feet were beginning to swell and pain them. by clever work they managed to arrive home that same evening, pleased with their last adventure. its successful termination would long be a source of gratification to those who had participated in the chase after wandering george and the blue army overcoat that the judge wanted to keep "in memory of his son." thad could not wait for morning to come, but immediately after supper he took the coat, once more brushed clean, over his arm, and set out for the home of old judge whittaker. when he was ushered into the library, and the eminent jurist saw what he was carrying, he expressed himself pleased in no uncertain tones. as the good lady of the house happened to be out at a neighbor's just then, the judge did not hesitate to rip open the lining of the coat, and then triumphantly extract a thin paper, which he seemed to prize exceedingly. he declared that he was under great obligations to the scouts, and expressed an earnest desire to do something grand for the troop; but of course thad was compelled to decline, assuring him they had enjoyed the little adventure greatly, and that at any rate the rules of their organization would prevent them from accepting any pay for such a service. thad and his friends were looking forward to another outing in the woods during the coming summer, and expected to have a delightful time. none of them, however, so much as suspected what a strange turn of fortune would alter their plans, and allow some of the scouts to visit foreign lands while the greatest war in the history of the whole world was breaking out. what wonderful things happened to them abroad will be found recorded in the next volume of this series, published under the title of "the boy scouts on the rhine; or under fire with the allies." the boy allies (registered in the united states patent office) with the army by clair w. hayes price, cents per volume, postpaid in this series we follow the fortunes of two american lads unable to leave europe after war is declared. they meet the soldiers of the allies, and decide to cast their lot with them. their experiences and escapes are many, and furnish plenty of the good, healthy action that every boy loves. the boy allies in great peril; or, with the italian army in the alps. the boy allies in the balkan campaign; or, the struggle to save a nation. the boy allies at liege; or, through lines of steel. the boy allies on the firing line; or, twelve days battle along the marne. the boy allies with the cossacks; or, a wild dash over the carpathians. the boy allies in the trenches; or, midst shot and shell along the aisne. the boy allies (registered in the united states patent office) with the battleships by ensign robert l. drake price, cents per volume, postpaid frank chadwick and jack templeton, young american lads, meet each other in an unusual way soon after the declaration of war. circumstances place them on board the british cruiser "the sylph" and from there on, they share adventures with the sailors of the allies. ensign robert l. drake, the author, is an experienced naval officer, and he describes admirably the many exciting adventures of the two boys. the boy allies under the sea; or, the vanishing submarine. the boy allies in the baltic; or, through fields of ice to aid the czar. the boy allies on the north sea patrol; or, striking the first blow at the german fleet. the boy allies under two flags; or, sweeping the enemy from the seas. the boy allies with the flying squadron; or, the naval raiders of the great war. the boy allies with the terror of the seas; or, the last shot of submarine d- . the boy scouts series by herbert carter price, cents per volume, postpaid the boy scouts on war trails in belgium; or, caught between the hostile armies. in this volume we follow the thrilling adventures of the boys in the midst of the exciting struggle abroad. the boy scouts down in dixie; or, the strange secret of alligator swamp. startling experiences awaited the comrades when they visited the southland. but their knowledge of woodcraft enabled them to overcome all difficulties. the boy scouts at the battle of saratoga. a story of burgoyne's defeat in . the boy scouts' first camp fire; or, scouting with the silver fox patrol. this book brims over with woods lore and the thrilling adventure that befell the boy scouts during their vacation in the wilderness. the boy scouts in the blue ridge; or, marooned among the moonshiners. this story tells of the strange and mysterious adventures that happened to the patrol in their trip among the moonshiners of north carolina. the boy scouts on the trail; or, scouting through the big game country. the story recites the adventures of the members of the silver fox patrol with wild animals of the forest trails and the desperate men who had sought a refuge in this lonely country. the boy scouts in the maine woods; or, the new test for the silver fox patrol. thad and his chums have a wonderful experience when they are employed by the state of maine to act as fire wardens. the boy scouts through the big timber; or, the search for the lost tenderfoot. a serious calamity threatens the silver fox patrol. how apparent disaster is bravely met and overcome by thad and his friends, forms the main theme of the story. the boy scouts in the rockies; or, the secret of the hidden silver mine. the boys' tour takes them into the wildest region of the great rocky mountains and here they meet with many strange adventures. the boy scouts on sturgeon island; or, marooned among the game fish poachers. thad brewster and his comrades find themselves in the predicament that confronted old robinson crusoe; only it is on the great lakes that they are wrecked instead of the salty sea. the boy scouts along the susquehanna; or, the silver fox patrol caught in a flood. the boys of the silver fox patrol, after successfully braving a terrific flood, become entangled in a mystery that carries them through many exciting adventures. the broncho rider boys series by frank fowler price, cents per volume, postpaid a series of stirring stories for boys, breathing the adventurous spirit that lives in the wide plains and lofty mountain ranges of the great west. these tales will delight every lad who loves to read of pleasing adventure in the open; yet at the same time the most careful parent need not hesitate to place them in the hands of the boy. the broncho rider boys with funston at vera cruz; or, upholding the honor of the stars and stripes. when trouble breaks out between this country and mexico, the boys are eager to join the american troops under general funston. their attempts to reach vera cruz are fraught with danger, but after many difficulties, they manage to reach the trouble zone, where their real adventures begin. the broncho rider boys at keystone ranch; or, three chums of the saddle and lariat. in this story the reader makes the acquaintance of three devoted chums. the book begins in rapid action, and there is "something doing" up to the very time you lay it down. the broncho rider boys down in arizona; or, a struggle for the great copper lode. the broncho rider boys find themselves impelled to make a brave fight against heavy odds, in order to retain possession of a valuable mine that is claimed by some of their relatives. they meet with numerous strange and thrilling perils and every wideawake boy will be pleased to learn how the boys finally managed to outwit their enemies. the broncho rider boys along the border; or, the hidden treasure of the zuni medicine man. once more the tried and true comrades of camp and trail are in the saddle. in the strangest possible way they are drawn into a series of exciting happenings among the zuni indians. certainly no lad will lay this book down, save with regret. the broncho rider boys on the wyoming trail; or, a mystery of the prairie stampede. the three prairie pards finally find a chance to visit the wyoming ranch belonging to adrian, but managed for him by an unscrupulous relative. of course, they become entangled in a maze of adventurous doings while in the northern cattle country. how the broncho rider boys carried themselves through this nerve-testing period makes intensely interesting reading. the broncho rider boys with the texas rangers; or, the smugglers of the rio grande. in this volume, the broncho rider boys get mixed up in the mexican troubles, and become acquainted with general villa. in their efforts to prevent smuggling across the border, they naturally make many enemies, but finally succeed in their mission. the boy chums series by wilmer m. ely price, cents per volume, postpaid in this series of remarkable stories are described the adventures of two boys in the great swamps of interior florida, among the cays off the florida coast, and through the bahama islands. these are real, live boys, and their experiences are worth following. the boy chums in mystery land; or, charlie west and walter hazard among the mexicans. the boy chums on indian river; or, the boy partners of the schooner "orphan." the boy chums on haunted island; or, hunting for pearls in the bahama islands. the boy chums in the forest; or, hunting for plume birds in the florida everglades. the boy chums' perilous cruise; or, searching for wreckage on the florida coast. the boy chums in the gulf of mexico; or, a dangerous cruise with the greek spongers. the boy chums cruising in florida waters; or, the perils and dangers of the fishing fleet. the boy chums in the florida jungle; or, charlie west and walter hazard with the seminole indians. the big five motorcycle boys series by ralph marlow price, cents per volume, postpaid it is doubtful whether a more entertaining lot of boys ever before appeared in a story than the "big five," who figure in the pages of these volumes. from cover to cover the reader will be thrilled and delighted with the accounts of their many adventures. the big five motorcycle boys on the battle line; or, with the allies in france. the big five motorcycle boys at the front; or, carrying dispatches through belgium. the big five motorcycle boys under fire; or, with the allies in the war zone. the big five motorcycle boys' swift road chase; or, surprising the bank robbers. the big five motorcycle boys on florida trails; or, adventures among the saw palmetto crackers. the big five motorcycle boys in tennessee wilds; or, the secret of walnut ridge. the big five motorcycle boys through by wireless; or, a strange message from the air. our young aeroplane scouts series (registered in the united states patent office) by horace porter price, cents per volume, postpaid a series of stories of two american boy aviators in the great european war zone. the fascinating life in midair is thrillingly described. the boys have many exciting adventures, and the narratives of their numerous escapes make up a series of wonderfully interesting stories. our young aeroplane scouts in england; or, twin stars in the london sky patrol. our young aeroplane scouts in italy; or, flying with the war eagles of the alps. our young aeroplane scouts in france and belgium; or, saving the fortunes of the trouvilles. our young aeroplane scouts in germany; or, winning the iron cross. our young aeroplane scouts in russia; or, lost on the frozen steppes. our young aeroplane scouts in turkey; or, bringing the light to yusef. the jack lorimer series volumes by winn standish handsomely bound in cloth full library size--price cents per volume, postpaid captain jack lorimer; or, the young athlete of millvale high. jack lorimer is a fine example of the all-around american high-school boy. his fondness for clean, honest sport of all kinds will strike a chord of sympathy among athletic youths. jack lorimer's champions; or, sports on land and lake. there is a lively story woven in with the athletic achievements, which are all right, since the book has been o.k'd by chadwick, the nestor of american sporting journalism. jack lorimer's holidays; or, millvale high in camp. it would be well not to put this book into a boy's hands until the chores are finished, otherwise they might be neglected. jack lorimer's substitute; or, the acting captain of the team. on the sporting side, the book takes up football, wrestling, tobogganing. there is a good deal of fun in this book and plenty of action. jack lorimer, freshman; or, from millvale high to exmouth. jack and some friends he makes crowd innumerable happenings into an exciting freshman year at one of the leading eastern colleges. the book is typical of the american college boy's life, and there is a lively story, interwoven with feats on the gridiron, hockey, basketball and other clean, honest sports for which jack lorimer stands. the navy boys series a series of excellent stories of adventure on sea and land, selected from the works of popular writers; each volume designed for boys' reading. handsome cloth bindings price, cents per volume the navy boys in defence of liberty. a story of the burning of the british schooner gaspee in . by william p. chipman. the navy boys on long island sound. a story of the whale boat navy of . by james otis. the navy boys at the siege of havana. being the experience of three boys serving under israel putnam in . by james otis. the navy boys with grant at vicksburg. a boy's story of the siege of vicksburg. by james otis. the navy boys' cruise with paul jones. a boy's story of a cruise with the great commodore in . by james otis. the navy boys on lake ontario. the story of two boys and their adventures in the war of . by james otis. the navy boys' cruise on the pickering. a boy's story of privateering in . by james otis. the navy boys in new york bay. a story of three boys who took command of the schooner "the laughing mary," the first vessel of the american navy. by james otis. the navy boys in the track of the enemy. the story of a remarkable cruise with the sloop of war "providence" and the frigate "alfred." by william p. chipman. the navy boys' daring capture. the story of how the navy boys helped to capture the british cutter "margaretta," in . by william p. chipman. the navy boys' cruise to the bahamas. the adventures of two yankee middies with the first cruise of an american squadron in . by william p. chipman. the navy boys' cruise with columbus. the adventures of two boys who sailed with the great admiral in his discovery of america. by frederick a. ober. the boy spies series these stories are based on important historical events, scenes wherein boys are prominent characters being selected. they are the romance of history, vigorously told, with careful fidelity to picturing the home life, and accurate in every particular. handsome cloth bindings price, cents per volume the boy spies at the battle of new orleans. a story of the part they took in its defence. by william p. chipman. the boy spies at the defence of fort henry. a boy's story of wheeling creek in . by james otis. the boy spies at the battle of bunker hill. a story of two boys at the siege of boston. by james otis. the boy spies at the siege of detroit. a story of two ohio boys in the war of . by james otis. the boy spies with lafayette. the story of how two boys joined the continental army. by james otis. the boy spies on chesapeake bay. the story of two young spies under commodore barney. by james otis. the boy spies with the regulators. the story of how the boys assisted the carolina patriots to drive the british from that state. by james otis. the boy spies with the swamp fox. the story of general marion and his young spies. by james otis. the boy spies at yorktown. the story of how the spies helped general lafayette in the siege of yorktown. by james otis. the boy spies of philadelphia. the story of how the young spies helped the continental army at valley forge. by james otis. the boy spies of fort griswold. the story of the part they took in its brave defence. by william p. chipman. the boy spies of old new york. the story of how the young spies prevented the capture of general washington. by james otis. for sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid of receipt of price by the publishers a. l. burt company, - east d street, new york. * * * * * * transcriber's note: obvious typographical errors were corrected without note. non-standard spellings and dialect were left unchanged. a table of contents was added for the convenience of the reader. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustration. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). the boy scouts through the big timber or the search for the lost tenderfoot by herbert carter author of "the boy scouts first camp fire," "the boy scouts in the blue ridge," "the boy scouts on the trail," "the boy scouts in the maine woods," "the boy scouts in the rockies" copyright, by a. l. burt company [illustration: "look out for it, davy, and grab the noose when it comes near," shouted thad. _the boy scouts through the big timber._ _page _] contents chapter page i. the camp. ii. what frightened the pack mules. iii. when the foxes took to the trees. iv. bumpus takes a chance. v. the missing tenderfoot. vi. forced to think for himself. vii. turning the tables. viii. a scout should always be on the alert. ix. the mean trick of the timber cruisers. x. the bob-cat. xi. bumpus' stock above par. xii. the swoop of the storm. xiii. the bolt of lightning. xiv. step hen looks out for the provisions. xv. through the big timber again. xvi. the snake bite. xvii. more trouble ahead. xviii. still in pursuit, with the trail growing warmer. xix. another shock. xx. finding out how bumpus did it. xxi. caught in a trap. xxii. the cripple business seems to be contagious. xxiii. the way blocked. xxiv. the "little lightning." xxv. "catching a tartar;" and a fat one at that. xxvi. "tenderfoot? well, hardly, after this." xxvii. well-earned rest--conclusion. the boy scouts through the big timber chapter i. the camp. "call the roll, mr. secretary," said the acting scoutmaster. of course this was a mere matter of form, because everybody knew that the entire membership of the silver fox patrol, connected with the cranford troop of boy scouts, was present. but nevertheless bob white gravely took out his little book, and made each boy answer to his name. "thad brewster." "present," said the patrol leader, and assistant scoutmaster. "allan hollister." "here," replied the second in command, a maine boy, now living in cranford, the new york town from whence these boys had journeyed to this far-off region along the foothills of the great rocky mountains. "bumpus hawtree." "ditto," sang out the fat youth, looking up with a wide grin; for he was about as good-natured as he was ponderous. "giraffe stedman." "more ditto," answered the tall lad, with the long neck, and the quick movements, who was busying himself over the fire, being never so happy as when he could feed wood to the crackling blaze. "step hen bingham." "on deck," replied the boy mentioned, who was busy with the supper arrangements. "davy jones." "o. k." came from the fellow who was walking on his hands at the moment, his waving feet being high in the air, where his head was supposed to appear; because davy was a gymnast, and worked off his superfluous energy in doing all manner of queer stunts. "smithy." "present," and the speaker, a very natty chap, brushed off an imaginary insect from the sleeve of his coat; because it happened that edmund maurice travers smith, as he was known in his home circle, had been born with a horror for dirt: and it was taking his comrades a long time to bring him down to the ordinary level of a happy-go-lucky, care-free boy like themselves. "robert white quail." and the last named being the secretary himself, he merely put a cross down, to indicate the fact of his being in the line of duty on that occasion. "you neglected two other important members of the party!" called out giraffe, who, of course had gained his peculiar name on account of the habit he had of often stretching that unusually long neck of his, until the boys likened him to an ostrich, and then a giraffe. "who are they?" demanded bob white, scenting some sort of joke. "mike, and molly, the honest, hard-working mules here that we have for pack animals," replied the tall scout, with a chuckle. "oh! i reckon, suh, they don't count on the roll call," remarked bob white, who was a southern boy, as his soft manner of speech, as well as certain phrases he often used, betrayed. "well," protested giraffe, sturdily, "if you think now, that our pack mules ain't going to make an impression on our camping through the big timber, and the foothills of the rockies, you've got another guess coming, let me tell you." "mike strikes me as particularly worthy of mention in the log book of the trip. he made a _distinct_ impression on me, right in the start; and left a black and blue record of it that hurts yet," with which remark, fat bumpus--whose real name chanced to be jasper cornelius, began to ruefully rub a certain portion of his generous anatomy. a general shout went up at this. "well, what could you expect, bumpus?" demanded davy jones. "when mike, out of the corner of his wicked eye, saw you stooping over that way, and offering such a wide target, the temptation was more than any respectable, well-educated mule could resist." "yes," put in step hen, who had divided his name in that queer fashion as a lad first attending school, and it had clung to him ever since; "you didn't know the strong points of pack mules, bumpus, or you would never have gone so close to his heels." "and," continued davy, humorously, "you turned over in the air three times, before you struck that dirty pool of water. and that time, bumpus, i own up you beat me fairly at gymnastics; for try as i will, so far i've only been able to do two turns backward in the air, myself." bumpus, being so good-natured, only chuckled and kept on rubbing, as in imagination he saw the "cartwheels" he made in the air on that memorable occasion. "only thing i deeply regret," continued davy, "was that i didn't have my camera focussed at the time. that picture would sure have been the gem of our collection." bumpus presently sat himself down again, to watch those who were serving as cooks for that occasion, get supper ready. and while it is preparing, with the fragrant odor of coffee in the air, making the hungry boys almost frantic with suspense, perhaps, for the benefit of the reader who has not made the acquaintance of these lively, wide-awake boys in earlier stories of this series, a brief explanation of who and what they were, may be deemed appropriate at this point. the silver fox patrol had been organized for quite some time now, and the boys who made up the membership had been fortunate enough to take two long trips, with the idea of adding to their knowledge of woodcraft, and such qualities as all good scouts are supposed to desire to possess. the first one had been to the region of the land of the sky. robert quail had come from the blue ridge, in north carolina, and it was mostly through his influence and persuasion that the scouts had gone thence. and while there, they had met with many adventures that have been faithfully chronicled in their log book, and portrayed in a previous story. their next trip came in very fortunately. an epidemic breaking out in cranford, the school trustees closed the doors of the places of education until after the christmas holidays. this gave the boys the chance they had long wanted to take a run up into maine, and do a little camping, and hunting of big game; several of their number being very fond of handling a gun; and allan having told them thrilling stories of the sport to be found in his native state after the law had been lifted. and while enjoying themselves hugely, the scouts had had the good fortune to recover some stolen bonds and other valuables belonging to a bank that had been robbed. the reward offered for their restoration was paid over into their treasury, and was of such a size as to admit of their taking this long-desired journey into the mountain region of the great northwest, when vacation time came around. during the balance of the winter, after their return from maine, the story of the wonderfully good times they enjoyed there had so enthused other boys of cranford, that a second full patrol, called the eagle, had been organized; and a third addition to the troop, to be called the gray wolf, was in process of forming. but of course none of these lads had any share in the reward that had come to the members of the first patrol; so that accounted for their not being present on his occasion. bumpus was a musician, and had a fine mellow voice, which he often used to entertain his mates while sitting around the roaring camp-fire. he could play on any instrument; indeed, with merely his doubled-up hands, and his melodious voice, he often imitated various calls on the bugle. and of course he had been elected as bugler to the troop, though on the present occasion they had induced him to leave his instrument at home, not thinking a hunting camp the place for such noisy demonstrations. the boys carried guns of various sorts, though until lately bumpus had never bothered himself about such a thing. but while in maine the fever seized him, and he had purchased a big ten-bore marlin double-barreled shotgun; because he always admired the twelve gauge of the same make which thad owned. step hen had a little beauty of a thirty-thirty six-shot repeating rifle, that had been given to him by his father on a recent birthday. thad sometimes borrowed it, and could use the same with considerable skill. it carried those soft-nosed bullets that mushroom when striking, and thus do all the work of a ball several times the size. if big game must be killed, the quicker the thing is over with the better. besides, that little fire-arm was "just as light as a feather," as step hen always declared, when disputing with giraffe, who carried the large rifle owned by his respected dad, also fond of the woods and game. davy managed to get along with a shotgun, while allan had a rifle. smithy and bob white had brought no weapons along, deeming the number on hand amply sufficient to clean out most of the wild beasts inhabiting the rocky mountain region. in fact, smithy had never shot a gun in his life, and was timid about trying; but on the other hand bob was quite used to working with a good retriever in the grain fields, where the bird he was named after fattened, away down in the old tarheel state. davy seemed to be unusually full of animal spirits on this occasion. he just could not keep quiet, but kept up his tumbling, and standing on his head, even though no one paid much attention to what wonderful stunts the athletic lad was carrying on. close by them ran a noisy stream. it came out from the foothills of the great uplifts near by, and went brawling on its way. indeed, it made so much music that the scouts had to call out to each other at times; but somehow the prospect of passing a night near such a rollicking stream pleased them all. besides, they were sure it must contain trout, and several promised to get up at break of day to try for the speckled beauties, so that they might have a mess for breakfast, before continuing on their way. "say, has anybody seen my sweater around?" called out step hen, who was busily engaged looking over the contents of his pack, having turned over the control of the cooking meal to allan and thad. "i'm just sure i stowed it away in this knapsack i carry, but it ain't there now. i'm the unluckiest feller you ever did see, about having my things taken. everybody just thinks they're general property, and grabs 'em up. please hand it over, whoever's got it. i might want it to-night, if it gets cool." step hen was careless. he had a long-standing habit of never knowing where he put his things, and hence, when he missed some object, loud were his wails about being pursued by a "little evil genius," that was taking the greatest delight in misplacing his possessions. even when one of the other scouts, taking pity on step hen, would show him where he had himself left the article, he would pass it off as easily as a duck shakes the water from its back. the tents had been raised, and everything looked cozy and comfortable. several of the scouts lay around, being footsore and weary; only that never-tired davy was still exercising himself in all sorts of ways. in due time he would work off his superfluous energy, and behave. they were so accustomed to seeing davy hang by his toes from the high limb of a tree, or doing some similar act better fitted for the circus than a camp of boy scouts, that little attention was ordinarily paid to his actions. it came as a shock, then, when all of a sudden thad started up with a shout, and started on a run toward the edge of the high river bank, where one could look down on the tumbling waters of the churning yeasty rapids. "hurry, boys!" the scoutmaster was calling at the top of his voice, as he covered the dozen yards separating the camp from the edge of the little bluff; "davy went too near the edge, and took a header right over into the river!" every one of the other six lads hurried as fast as possible to join their leader on the brink of the bluff; and when they reached there, they saw a sight that for the moment seemed to freeze the very blood in their veins. chapter ii. what frightened the pack mules. "hold on to the rock, davy! we'll get you out!" whooped giraffe, greatly excited, so that thad, believing the tall scout meditated jumping after the boy who was already at the mercy of that swift current, dropped a restraining hand on his arm. "he must a hit his head when he fell; you c'n see he looks dazed!" cried bumpus. "just what he did, i reckon!" added bob white, as he clenched his hands, and stared at the figure out in the midst of that rushing, boiling water. davy looked far from nimble just then. he was clinging desperately to a slippery moss-covered rock that just projected above the foamy water. if he allowed his grip to slacken he would be instantly carried into a pocket that had all the appearance of a whirlpool; and once lost in that gap, where the water whirled around and around, davy might never come out alive again. under ordinary conditions the agile lad might have had a fair chance to work out his own salvation, for he was a good swimmer; but just as bumpus said, possibly he had struck his head when falling, and this dazed him. he could only hang on there, and look appealingly toward his comrades, high up on the bank. thad saw immediately that the task of rescuing their comrade would prove to be not a little one, even though davy could hold on for a few minutes longer, which was uncertain, since the current was very strong, and seemed to drag at him with a dozen eager hands. "a rope! we must have a rope!" he cried. "where's bumpus? take this rope!" came from giraffe. "that's so; here, get your coat off, bumpus, in a big hurry!" exclaimed thad, whirling upon the fat boy, who was even then starting to obey. strange to say, as soon as he had undone his loose coat, one of the reasons for his apparent great size through the body became apparent. bumpus had a small but stout clothes-line wound around his body many times. while up in maine he had taken a fancy for having a rope close to his hand. on many occasions he had seen the great value of such a thing; and it had by degrees become almost a mania with bumpus; who secured just such a rope as he thought best adapted for the purpose, and carefully wound it around his body every morning. and as the possession of such a thing caused the scoffing scouts to call it a lariat, of course bumpus was privately and publicly doing his level best to throw the rope, as he had once seen some cowboys connected with a traveling circus do; but with rather poor success thus far, for his build rather unfitted him for doing such strenuous work. bumpus was so clumsy about most things that it could not be expected that on the present occasion, when there was so much need of haste he could satisfy the nervous demands of his camp-mates. he started to unwind the rope, but twice the end fell from his shaking fingers, when he heard giraffe call out that davy seemed to be about to let go his hold. unable to stand such dilly-dallying tactics, allan and giraffe presently took hold of the fat boy, and began to whirl him around as though he were a teetotum, while thad pulled at the rope. "here, quit that!" roared bumpus, throwing out his hands in an effort to catch hold of something, for he was rapidly growing very dizzy under this treatment; "what d'ye think i am, a top that wants spinning? hi! ketch me somebody, i'm going to tumble over!" and as the last remnant of the clothes-line slipped from his rotating form, the fat scout did reel around like a drunken man, though quickly recovering from the dizzy sensation. meanwhile thad was busy. fortunately bumpus always kept a nice noose at the end of the rope, with a running knot. thad knew this, for he had many a time thrown the lariat with considerable skill, when showing the owner just how it should be done. hastily he gathered the coils of rope in his hand, and rushed again to the edge of the little bluff looking out on the rapids. he drew a breath of relief when he saw that the unfortunate gymnast was still there, clinging desperately to that slippery rock, and yet apparently well-nigh exhausted. "look out for it, davy, and grab the noose when it comes near! here goes!" with that the scoutmaster gave the rope several whirls about his head, and then launched it forward. the others watched the result, with hearts that seemed to actually stand still with suspense. "missed him!" cried giraffe, in despair, as the rope struck the surface of the swift water about five feet or more above the imperiled scout. "thad wanted to send it there; see!" exclaimed allan. just as the one who had thrown the rope expected, the noose was instantly seized by the foaming waters, and swept downward, straight at the clinging boy. although davy may have been partly dazed, he had known enough to hang on with might and main. and right then and there he seemed to understand what thad meant to do; for as the rope was borne up against the partly submerged rock to which he clung, the boy made a quick snatch at it. "he lost it!" shrieked bumpus, who had recovered enough now to crawl near the edge in order to see what was going on; though not daring to trust his weight too near the brink, lest the earth crumble under him, and let him drop into the rapids where davy was already fighting for his life. "not much he did!" echoed giraffe; "he's got it all right! good boy, davy! slip it under your arms, and we'll yank you out in a jiffy! that's the ticket! hurrah!" davy seemed to understand what he must do. it was not enough that he gripped the noose at the end of the saving rope; for once in the power of the tossing current of the whirlpool he might lose his hold. and so he managed to put his arm right through, after which he held on with might and main with that hand while he got the second one through the loop. it was the last straw that broke the camel's back; davy was so completely exhausted by this effort that he just had to let go, and trust to his comrades to do the rest. thad began to pull with all his strength, and others laid hold on the line, to add their mite to the work of rescue. fortunately bumpus had selected a splendid braided window-sash cord when he picked out his rope, capable of standing an enormous strain; and it held, despite the drag of the savage whirlpool, and the rush of the rapids. through the white foaming waters davy was dragged in great style. one of them managed to get down the little bluff, and helped the almost drowned scout to clamber up. but hardly had davy reached the camp than he fell in a faint, utterly exhausted. excitement had more or less to do with it, perhaps fright as well; for he had really been facing death during those few minutes when he held on with such splendid grit. thad soon brought him to; and upon examining the boy's head he did discover a pretty good-sized lump, showing that what they suspected must have taken place; and that davy had struck against a rock in falling. davy was unusually quiet for the rest of the afternoon, and pretty serious for one of his animal spirits. he realized that he had had a close call; and never more would he make fun of poor bumpus for such a silly fad as carrying a rope around with him wherever he went. only for that davy might have had a much more serious time of it, even if he were rescued at all. they were having an early supper for many reasons. the tramp had been rather tiresome on this day; and besides, that location on the side of the noisy mountain stream had taken their fancy. when the meal was ready bumpus made a bugle of his hands, and blew the "assembly" in fairly good style. but none of the hungry scouts waited for him to get through; for they were hard at it as soon as he started. indeed, bumpus himself cut his "call" short, as he saw the tremendous inroads being made on the visible supply of food; and hastened to take his place, fearful lest he be left mourning, with a scant ration. had davy been half drowned by his submersion in the water, the scoutmaster knew just what to do in order to restore him. he would have placed the boy on his stomach, with his arms elevated; and while two of the others worked these back and forth like pump handles, thad would have knelt astride davy, pressing regularly downward with his hands or knees; the idea being to produce an artificial respiration, and encourage the heart to take up its suspended functions. it still lacked half an hour of sunset when they finished supper; and bob white was even thinking of getting out some fishing tackle, in order to see if he could coax a few trout from the stream, at the foot of the rapids below. the two mules, mike and molly, had been staked out at the end of their ropes, and were cropping the green grass that grew abundantly near by. "don't things look just fine and dandy around here, though?" remarked step hen, as they lay there, feeling too full of supper to do anything. "yes; and so far we haven't missed those two guides who gave us the cold shake," giraffe added. "one of 'em had to go and get sick; and the other broke his contract, and went off with those two eastern sportsmen who came out here to shoot mountain sheep, just like they do chamois over in switzerland. but we're going to get on all right without 'em; though i hope we manage to run across that toby smathers they told us about, and who's up here somewhere on his own hook doin' something, nobody seemed to know just what." "yes," remarked thad, "they told us he was just the right kind of a guide to get. he's been through the whole mill--lumber-jack, trapper, hunter, timber cruiser; and forest ranger employed to look out for fires, and watch some of those thieves of timber pirates sent in here by the big lumber concerns to steal millions of millions of feet of valuable lumber every winter." "hello! now mike's gone and caught it!" cried giraffe. this caused all of them to sit up, and take notice that one of the mules was dancing at a lively clip at the end of his rope. he would stand up on his hind legs, and strain at his stake; then turning, he would kick as far as he could; and carry on in a most remarkable manner. "what in the dickens ails the beast?" asked step hen. "has a bumble bee stung him on the nose?" "why, don't you see, it's catching," retorted giraffe, grinning. "he saw the way davy here was walking around on his hands, with his feet in the air; and mike wants us to see if he can do better than that. i reckon he'll stand on one foot after a bit, and show davy stunts he dassent try to follow." "now, there goes molly trying the same dodge," shouted bumpus. "well, i declare, if that don't beat the dutch!" ejaculated giraffe. "as sure as i live, fellers, they mean to make it a double harness affair, a team of educated mule gymnasts. go it, mike! hey, show us what you can do, molly! i'm believing she c'n beat her pardner all hollow. look at that jump, would you? say, they must a been eating some of that loco weed we heard about, fellers!" "they're frightened, that's what!" exclaimed thad, as he started to cast his eyes around in search of any unusual object, but failing to discover such; from which fact he judged that the mules depended on their sense of smell to tell them there was danger near by. "frightened; what at?" echoed davy jones. "i don't know; but if ever i saw a scared mule, that mike is one," thad went on. "look at him jerk, would you?" cried giraffe. "unless that stake gives way soon, he'll sure break his old stubborn neck. whoa! there, you silly; nothing's going to hurt you. wow! there he goes awhoopin', thad! the stake did give way, before he dislocated his spine. and there's molly bound to follow after him, whoop! see her tear, would you?" "she's broke away too, and is trailing the rope after her!" cried step hen. "and now, won't we just have a dandy old time hunting our pack mules again; unless by some accident that stake and rope get caught in the rocks, and holds 'em up; which i'm hoping will be the case," remarked giraffe, looking blankly after the two disappearing animals, that, when last seen, were still acting in the most remarkable manner, and giving every evidence of a severe fright. "now, what d'ye suppose, scared the fools that way?" demanded bob white. "p'raps they just felt frisky, and wanted to show us their heels. i told you they'd be mad, if you didn't include them on the roll call," giraffe remarked; though in truth, he was feeling anything but funny just then, as he contemplated the possibility of their being stranded away out there under the shadow of the great rockies, without a single pack animal to "tote" their camp luggage either way. "look around, and see if you can spy anything moving," advised the scoutmaster, making use of his own sharp eyes at the same moment. immediately bumpus called out: "what's that lumbering along over yonder, thad? looks to me like an old, cinnamon-colored cow." thad took one look. "you're away off there, bumpus," he remarked, in a thrilling tone; "because those two wise mules knew what was coming. that is anything but a cow or even a bull. it's a bear!" "a bear!" almost shrieked bumpus, making a dive for the nearest tent, in which lay his nice ten-bore marlin, loaded with buckshot shells. "yes," thad went on, "and a great big grizzly bear at that. let's hope he'll give us the go-by, and walk on about his own business!" chapter iii. when the foxes took to the trees. "bang!" "hold on there, bumpus, you're crazy!" shouted thad. "bang!" went the other barrel of the new ten-bore gun, with which the fat scout was determined he would sooner or later get a bear. "oh! he knocked him over!" shrieked step hen, who had managed in some mysterious way to get possession of his own gun, and was visibly disappointed because it began to look as though he could not make use of it. "bumpus has killed a grizzly!" shouted giraffe; and then, quick on the heels of this exultant cry he added: "no he ain't, either! look at him gettin' up on all fours again! now he's sighted us, fellers! here he comes, licketty-split! a tree for mine! they told us grizzlies couldn't climb trees, you know." giraffe was as good as his word. he seemed to fairly fly over to the nearest tree, and the way those supple long legs wrapped around the slender trunk was a sight worth seeing. a panic broke out among the rest, especially when thad shouted: "get up a tree, everybody! quick, now, he's coming right along!" now, step hen had his rifle, and knew that it could be depended on to do its work, provided the marksman himself was there with the good aim. step hen did not have full confidence in his ability to plant a bullet where it would do the most execution. besides, the sight of that savage monster lumbering along, and looking so very fierce, gave poor step hen an attack of the "rattles." when he heard the scoutmaster call out for every one to hunt a tree, step hen felt that he must be included in that order. if all the others climbed to safety, it would be the height of folly for him to remain below. and not wanting to play the part of casibianca, the boy who "stood on the burning deck, whence all but him had fled," step hen, dropping his gun as he ran, made for a tree that seemed to offer all the advantages of home. just ahead of him was bumpus, gripping a limb with a desperation born of despair, and struggling furiously to get one of his fat legs entwined above, when he might hope to pull himself up. step hen had no trouble in mounting on his side of the tree. "give bumpus a hand, step hen!" shouted the scoutmaster, already settled in a nest of his choosing. as one scout is expected to help another whenever the chance arises, doubtless step hen would have rendered this "first aid to the clumsy" even though thad had not seen fit to call out. there was really need of haste. the wounded bear was perilously near, and seemed to be heading straight for the tree where bumpus was, unable, in his excitement and fright to draw his body up on the limb to which he clung. his fat face was white, and his eyes seemed almost ready to pop out of his head, as step hen, bending down, caught hold of his coat collar. it looked as though the angry bear just knew which of these campers had inflicted this pain upon him, and was bent upon revenge. but step hen was strong, moreover, the necessity of moving the unwieldy body of bumpus was great. exerting himself as the fat scout commenced to strain again, step hen managed to get bumpus up alongside him. even then there was more or less danger that the grizzly might stand erect on his hind legs, and be able to claw them, so the boys hastened to put more distance between their precious bodies and the furious beast. when the bear found that he could not reach any of the scouts, he spent some little time rolling from one tree to another, and looking up at the boys in the branches and sending forth loud growls. "scat! get out!" shouted giraffe. "say, he's a goin' to try and climb up my thin tree. here, quit that, you old scamp! look what he's doin', thad! wow! he wants to shake me down like a big persimmon." the bear did actually shake the slender tree to and fro, by exerting his tremendous strength. giraffe had a few anxious minutes. he had to hold on with all his might to keep from being dislodged. and then again, there was always a chance that the furious grizzly might actually snap the tree off. after a short time the animal seemed to tire of this sport. greatly to the relief of giraffe he ambled away. "good-bye, old feller! come again when you can't stay so long!" cried giraffe, whose courage returned when he realized that his safety was assured. but the bear did not have the remotest idea of abandoning his game. "he smells our grub, that's what!" called out bumpus. "see him sniffing, would you? and there he goes, right at our stock of things. oh! what if he gobbles it all up, whatever will we do, stranded away up here?" "we've got to do something, boys, to chase him off," declared allan. "if i had some powder up here, i'd show him," declared giraffe. "what would you do?" demanded smithy, who for once had not waited to pick out a clean tree, when he started to "elevate." "why, i'd wet some powder, and make those sputtering 'devils' you remember i used to carry around with me. then i'd get the old bear right under, put a match to a bunch of the powder, and when it took to sending out sparks to beat the band, i'd drop it on his back. wow! but take my word for it, boys, he'd make tracks out of this in a cloud of smoke." "well, suh, why don't you do that, and help us out of a bad scrape?" demanded bob white, whose hot southern blood fairly boiled at the ridiculous idea of eight wide-awake scouts being made prisoners, by just one old bear. "for several reasons," replied giraffe, calmly. "in the first place i don't happen to possess a single match, even if i had the powder, which is not the case. and then again, i want to see how our sagacious and resourceful scoutmaster works his little game." this caused all the others to turn their attention toward thad. for the first time they discovered that he was lowering a long piece of cord, with an open loop a few inches in diameter at the end. "oh! i know what he's hoping to do," sang out bumpus. "he wants to fish up step hen's gun, that lies just below him, where step hen dropped it." "that's the stuff!" declared davy jones, excitedly, as he watched the operation. "but look at the bear, fellers!" cried giraffe. "he's right at it now, chawin' up our grub as if he could store away the lot of it. guess he's forgot all about us." "don't you believe it," declared allan. "watch me prove it." with that he made as if to descend his tree. no sooner had his swinging legs attracted the attention of the bear, than uttering savage growls he abandoned his feast, and came hurriedly over, to look up at allan with those cruel little eyes, as if inviting him to just try it. so thad had to suspend operations until bruin, overtaken by a desire to once more revel in the camp-stores, shuffled back again to the neighborhood of the twin tents. "don't coax him over here again, please, allan," remarked the scoutmaster, who was now busily engaged "fishing" with that looped cord, trying to drop the noose over the end of the little rifle, which, by a rare chance, was raised a few inches from the ground. the other scouts were all watching his labor, being deeply interested in the result. "now you've got a bite, thad!" called out giraffe. "give it to him, thad!" advised step hen. but the fisherman was too cautious to risk so much. he wanted to slip the noose a little further along, before he made a final jerk, in order to try and tighten it. "he's got his eye on you, thad!" warned smithy, whose tree happened to be better located for observation than any of the other ones appropriated by his comrades. "yes, and there he's coming over to see what you mean by that string hanging down," asserted giraffe. "somebody draw his attention!" called out thad. "make him think you're meaning to drop down. it will give me the chance i need to finish my job." "yes, throw bumpus down, step hen!" called out giraffe. "he was the cause of all this trouble and he ought to sacrifice himself now, in order to create a diversion." "keep away from me! don't you dare touch me, step hen! i'll pull you down along with me, if you try to do that," cried bumpus, really alarmed. but allan caught the idea thad advanced. besides, it just happened that he was well situated for carrying it out. by going through some extravagant motions, as though about to descend, he caught the attention of the bear, which immediately shuffled over to his tree, and looked up expectantly. meanwhile thad was not idle. he saw what he had to do in order to make a sure thing of his work. moving to one side a little, as the nature of his hold in the branches of the tree permitted, he jerked at his line until the loop actually closed tightly on the barrel of step hen's rifle. after that it should not be a difficult task to pull the weapon up. "quick! thad, he's coming!" shouted the excited giraffe. in spite of all allan's cutting-up the bear seemed to think that he had better be paying more attention to what was going on elsewhere. thad had raised the gun from the ground. it was slowly ascending through space, and turning around as it came. the grizzly hurried underneath, while thad hastened to pass the cord through his fingers and when the wise old bear, seeming to understand the case, reared up to strike at the dangling rifle, he just managed to give it a tap that started it to spinning around at a lively clip. "oh!" gasped giraffe, under the belief that all was lost. but thad had made one last drag, and even as the other uttered that exclamation the scoutmaster snatched the gun out of the air; for with that very last pull, the noose seemed to have slipped. "hurrah! thad wins!" burst out from step hen. "good-bye, old charlie!" mocked bumpus. "better skip out while there is time, if you know what's good for you." but the bear did not seem to be that wise. he remained there, winking those wicked little eyes up at thad, as if daring him to do his worst. "give it to him, thad!" begged giraffe, so impatient that he could hardly understand why the more careful boy should wait. but although thad had never up to now encountered a wild grizzly, he had heard and read a great deal about them. and thus he knew that at times such an animal can be shot full of bullets, so to speak, without killing him, so tenacious of life is the grizzly bear of the rocky mountains. on this account, therefore, thad wished to make all the capital possible out of the six bullets that were contained in step hen's gun. waiting until a good opportunity presented itself, he took a quick aim, and then pulled the trigger. with the report there came a tremendous roar, so savage, so full of pent-up animal rage, that bumpus immediately proceeded to climb up to a still higher limb of the tree in which he had found shelter. "he's down! no, he's up again! give him another, thad! oh! don't i wish i had my old reliable here, though," cried giraffe. thad was awake to the necessity for prompt action. the bear, even though desperately wounded, was still full of fight. and there could be no telling what the maddened animal might not attempt, if given time. thad taking careful aim fired again. he really felt an admiration for the hard-fighting grizzly, such as all hunters worthy of the name experience toward the four-footed enemy that puts up a game battle for its life. there were four more bullets in the repeating rifle, and thad had to make use of them all before he could really feel he had caused the last vital spark to flee from its abiding-place in the body of the shaggy monster. but after the sixth and last shot had been fired, there was silence on the part of the terror of the mountain gulches. the grizzly's last convulsive movement had taken place. no longer would his savage roar, echoing from cliff to cliff, cause all other wild animals to flee. "hurrah!" shouted giraffe, as he dropped to the ground. "is he surely dead?" asked smithy, from his perch aloft. for answer the reckless giraffe ran up, and placed a foot on the motionless body of the bear. chapter iv. bumpus takes a chance. "everybody's getting bears but me," bumpus was saying on the following day, when, a new camp having been selected, further removed from the noise of the rapids, the boys decided to stay over for a little while, and try their luck hunting through the big timber lands around them. the two runaway pack mules had been recovered. just as the boys expected, the trailing stakes had become caught fast in the rocks that lay up the stream, and in which direction the panic-stricken pack animals had gone. both were found before darkness set in, and escorted back in triumph to the camp. the boys had also discovered that hungry trout lay in schools below the foaming rapids, just anxious to grace the frying-pan of the scouts. and the savory mess they had secured for breakfast that morning was one of the reasons why, upon putting the question to a vote, it was decided to stay over a while. and after they had located the new camp, with the tents erected, and things looking fairly comfortable, the complaining voice of bumpus was heard in the land, as he rubbed diligently at the shining barrels of his marlin with an oiled rag. "well, you had your chance, didn't you?" demanded step hen, with a wink and a nod in the direction of thad, who had paused to listen, while stretching the great skin of the grizzly on a big frame, to start drying. "i s'pose i did; but he was too far away for my buckshot to bring him down," declared bumpus; "but i hit him, didn't i, thad?" "in eight different places by actual count," replied the other. "altogether this pelt is shot so full of holes it won't make the finest rug going; but whenever we look at it on the floor of our armory we'll all remember the queer kind of fruit the trees out here bear." "there is giraffe, now," went on bumpus, still hugging his grievance to his heart; "he got a black bear when we were up in maine, but i call that just a snap. the old thief was astealin' honey from the tree we cut down, when giraffe, he just plunked him. why, my dandy gun would have knocked that bear over at such close range, the easiest ever." "i guess it would, bumpus," said thad, consolingly, "and sometime, perhaps you'll have your chance. we all hope you will, anyhow." "i'm going to see to it that i do," grumbled the fat scout; and from his manner one would be apt to think that really life was becoming very tame, and hardly worth having, unless he might find his one great wish gratified. bumpus really felt his failure of the preceding night very keenly. it was not often that any of the boys had seen him so sober and sour. he felt as though a cruel fate had taken pleasure in cheating him out of honors he should have claimed. that ought to have been _his_ bear, by right of first discovery; and also because he had fired both barrels of his marlin at the beast, and actually knocked him over. the trouble was, old charlie did not know enough to stay down; but had persisted in giving them further trouble, until thad engineered that clever scheme for getting possession of a gun, when immediately the game was up. had thad ever dreamed of what a tenacious hold this newly-acquired desire to shine as a mighty nimrod, had taken upon the mind of bumpus, he would certainly have been more careful about leaving the tenderfoot to his own devices. the morning was still young when giraffe proposed that they make up a party, to take a look around. "who knows but what we might run across a deer; or one of those rocky mountain big-horn sheep?" he added, as a clincher to his argument. "that sounds good to me," declared step hen. "i'll go along to help tote your game," remarked bob white. "and i'm in the ring," remarked step hen. "why, my mouth's just watering for some prime mutton chops." thad smiled. he knew that if ever they did secure a big-horn, the flesh of that high jumping animal would probably be as tough as leather, unless fortunately they chanced upon a young one. it was finally arranged that besides thad and allan, step hen, giraffe and bob white should make up the hunting party. this would leave three in camp--smithy who had no gun, davy jones, whose head still felt sore from the effect of his accident on the previous afternoon; and the despondent bumpus, who was acting very strangely, for one of his cheery disposition. no one dreamed that any trouble could come upon the camp while part of the scouts were away. two of those who remained owned guns, though at the last moment davy jones forced bob white to carry his "pump" shot gun. but then, what was there to fear? if the mate of the slain grizzly came around, looking for the absent one, the boys had been instructed to take to the trees; and thad had even gone to the trouble of picking out the best fortress available in this line, one that even the clumsy bumpus could readily climb. "think you could shin up that tree, in case the other old mountain charlie came prowling around?" thad asked bumpus. "oh! i guess i could," replied the other, rather indifferently, thad thought. "tell you what, bumpus," called out step hen, "if i was you i'd fix it so's to have my ammunition up in that tree. then, you see, if he sat down at the butt here, to wait till you got ripe and dropped, why, you could just keep banging away till you loaded him so full of little bullets he couldn't get up off the ground. great stunt, ain't it boys?" the others readily declared that it was making things easy for bumpus. they were even kind enough to express a wish that another bear _would_ take a notion to come around, just to please bumpus, for it pained them exceedingly to see him looking so miserable. but the fat boy did not grow at all enthusiastic over step hen's proposal. he just watched all the preparations being made for the hunt; and sitting there on the log, kept polishing his gun, although it certainly showed no speck of rust or grime. presently all of them were ready to start. "it would be nice now," said thad, before departing, "if some of you camp-keepers gave those trout another try. we may not get a shot at a deer all the time we're gone; and if we fail on fresh meat, another mess of trout would taste pretty fine." "i should say they would, whether we strike game or not," declared giraffe. "haven't tasted anything so good since we were up in maine last fall, and had just one mess before the trout season closed," allan observed. "i'll try and accommodate you as far as i'm able," smithy agreed. "same here," echoed davy jones. but as for bumpus, good-natured, jolly bumpus, he seemed to have lost his tongue, for he failed to add his promise to that of the other two scouts. thad looked at him as he turned away. he had never dreamed that the fat scout would take anything so much to heart. bumpus was not cut out for a good hunter, either by instinct or bodily favor. some of his enemies in cranford, like brose griffin and eli bangs, were wont to say that bumpus was not only ponderous of body, but "fat-witted" as well, by which they probably meant his mind was slow to act. still, there have been successful fat hunters. bumpus knew, for he had made it a point to investigate in every way possible, and he was resolved that he would shine as a successful nimrod, despite the disadvantages under which he labored. so much the more credit to him when he finally proved his right to boast that proud title. after the five hunters went away, smithy found some bait, and wandered down to the base of the rapids to fish. the gentle art of angling was more in the line of the dude of the patrol than tramping through the big timber after elusive game. here davy jones presently joined him, saying that bumpus had urged him to add a second rod and line to that smithy already had out. "couldn't get him to try it, though," said davy. "told me he was no fisherman, and nearly always fell in, he was that clumsy. and between us, smithy, that's pretty near the truth." "well, i can remember several occasions when bumpus made a splash that he didn't calculate on," remarked smithy, who was usually just as careful of his language as he was of his clothes, and no one could ever remember ever hearing him utter any slang phrase. meanwhile the five hunters had gone off in high spirits. the day was glorious, and a whole month of this sort of thing stared them in the face. that was enough to make any bunch of boys happy, especially when they cared as much for the great outdoors as thad and his chums did. allan was a born hunter. what he did not know about stalking game and all such things that a successful hunter must be up in, the boys had not as yet learned. he had noted the passing clouds, and observed the direction in which the prevailing wind blew. it was of considerable moment for the success of their fresh meat hunt, that they go _up_ the breeze. in this way they would avoid having their presence in the timber made known in advance to the wary game, through the medium of the wonderful sense of smell which most animals possess. the five scouts spread out at times in the shape of a fan, so as to cover as much ground as possible. again they would come together for a little consultation, when they could compare notes; and those who were not very much experienced in still hunting, pick up more or less valuable pointers. noon came, but as yet they had not met with any success. around them the tall trees grew thickly, and some of them had trunks of such girth that the scouts easily understood why this region was always referred to as the "big timber." as they ascended higher up the slopes of the foothills that bordered the rockies, they would find the trees growing smaller all the while, until far up the heights the stunted mesquite or the dwarfed cedar alone remained. not at all dismayed, after they had refreshed themselves with the lunch brought for that purpose, the young hunters again started out. the wind had veered somewhat, and with this fresh start they changed their own course, so as to keep it coming toward them. thad was just as well pleased, for this new direction would serve to keep them within a few miles of camp; and in case they did manage to secure meat, they would not have so far to transport it. still the time kept slipping away, and the sun could hardly have been more than two hours above the western horizon when suddenly a buck was started. every one was so eager to get in a shot, that a regular volley rang out immediately. there was positively no chance for the poor deer. he went down in a heap, and was so near dead when he reached the ground that he did not even give a last expiring kick. of course the boys were delighted, especially when allan declared their united quarry was a nice young buck, and that his flesh ought by all rights be tender. using the greatest dispatch the deer was soon cut up. and when the various packages of meat had been judiciously distributed, the five scouts started on their return to camp. thanks to the knowledge of woodcraft possessed by allan and thad, they managed to make the camp on a line as straight as an arrow, almost. indeed, thad declared that a bee laden with honey, could make no more direct drive for the hive than allan had in leading them toward the region of the camp. it was just beginning to get a little dusk when they sighted the crackling fire, and hurrying along, entered camp. thad looked around. davy was busy over the fire, and the delightful smell of frying trout told what his occupation must be. smithy was cutting up some small wood with the camp-hatchet. both looked up as the hunters came in. "where's bumpus?" asked thad, quickly scenting trouble. davy and smithy exchanged glances. "we hoped he'd found you, and come back," observed the former. "found us? what do you mean by that?" demanded the scoutmaster. "we went down to the foot of the pool to fish," explained davy. "an hour later i came back to get another hook, and i found that bumpus had disappeared, taking his gun with him." thad and allan exchanged worried glances. with night at hand and that clumsy tenderfoot lost somewhere in the big timber, it was no wonder that a sense of impending trouble, that might yet end in tragedy, oppressed them. chapter v. the missing tenderfoot. "it looks like poor old bumpus is lost," said allan, presently, breaking the silence that had fallen upon them all. "lost--whew!" muttered giraffe, with a suggestive whistle, and an elevation of the eyebrows that stood for a great deal. "that big booby lost!" said step hen. "what on earth can we do?" smithy asked. again they looked at each other. consternation had undoubtedly fallen upon the camp of the scouts, just as though a wet blanket had suddenly been thrown on some pet project. it would have been a matter of more or less concern had davy jones failed to turn up after a day's hunt in the big timber, or giraffe, or step hen; but bumpus, why, no one save himself had ever seriously contemplated the possibility of the fat boy going astray. and yet, now that they thought of it, how many times had they heard him prophesying that if ever he _did_ find himself wandering about alone, he would know how to take care of himself? bumpus had for a long time been making preparations looking to such a happening. the remembrance of this seemed to cheer the others up a little, after the first shock had passed. "he was always dreading just this same thing," said davy jones. "and getting ready against the evil day," remarked allan. "that was why he bought his little compass," put in giraffe. "ditto his camp hatchet," added step hen. "and i reckon, suh," observed the southern boy, "that bumpus had it in mind more than anything else when he took to carrying that piece of window sash cord around with him." "sure thing," giraffe went on. "i've heard him say it was apt to come in handy lots of times." "and it did," broke in davy jones, earnestly. "if it hadn't been for that same handy rope, fellows, there's no telling what would have happened to _me_; or what gloom might be ahangin' over this here camp right now." "good old bumpus!" murmured smithy, quite affected. "always willing to do his share of the work. you never knew him to shirk, or get a cramp in the stomach," and as giraffe said this he cast a severe look over in the direction of davy jones, who turned red in the face, gave a little uneasy laugh, and hastened to exclaim: "oh! that joke is ancient history now, giraffe, i've reformed since i joined the patrol." some years before, the jones boy had really been subject to violent cramps that gave him great pain, and doubled him up like a jack-knife, or a closed hinge. he was always an object of pity at such times, and had frequently been allowed to go home from school because of his affliction. but the time came when the teacher observed that these convenient "cramps" never arrived on a rainy day; and also that davy recovered in a miraculous fashion, once he reached the open air. and when davy was simply allowed to retire to a cloak room, to let the "spasm" pass, instead of being started homeward, it was noticed that his complaint quickly disappeared. so on joining the scouts, davy, whose dislike for exerting himself had been his weakness, began to have those strange "cramps" whenever some hard work was to be done. but trust boys for noticing that the pains never, never attacked him when a meal was awaiting attention. and davy was soon made so ashamed of himself that he did actually "reform," as he now declared. "well," smithy went on to say, "it's some satisfaction, anyhow, to know the poor old elephant is so well fixed, if he does have to pass a night or two in the woods alone." "he evidently took a lot of grub and matches along," said davy. "and if he has a fire, he can do without his blanket," allan observed. "while we're pitying him in this way, how do we know but what it may be the best thing in the world for bumpus," suggested thad. "yes, he needs something like this to give him self-reliance. bumpus was always ready to follow at the heels of some one who led; but who ever knew him to start out on his own hook?" said allan. "if only we could be sure of finding him again, after a couple of days had gone by, it wouldn't be so bad," declared smithy. "who'll tell his folks?" asked davy jones, dejectedly. thad turned on him like a flash. "here, we don't want any of that sort of talk," he said, severely. "we're going to find our missing comrade again, all right. get that fixed in your mind, davy. it may be to-morrow, or the day after, or even a week from now, but we'll find him sooner or later, and he'll know more than he ever did before, too." "you just bet he will," chuckled giraffe, as he mentally pictured the fat boy stalking through that great tract of timber, solemnly consulting his compass from time to time, and yet utterly unable to say whether the camp lay to the north, south, east or west. "it'll just be the making of bumpus, fellers," ventured step hen. "but see here," remarked thad, "if he disappeared this morning, how is it you two, davy and smithy, let the whole afternoon go by without trying to communicate with us?" davy jones took it upon himself to answer. "you see, thad," he began, "in the first place we didn't know for sure the poor old silly was lost, till late in the afternoon. we just kinder felt a bit uneasy, but every time i came to camp after fishin' an hour or so, i expected to see him sitting here." "but if you grew uneasy, it ought to have been your business to call us in?" continued thad, as the leader of the patrol. "just so, boss," davy went on to say, "but you see, it happened that i let bob white take my gun; and when bumpus, he let that silly notion to wander get a strangle hold on him, why, he carried off the only other shooting iron we had in camp." "oh!" said thad, "of course. you did all right, davy. and besides, there's a little chance right now, that bumpus, in wandering around, may glimpse our fire here, and come in." "and on that account you mean we ought to keep a bumper blaze going all evenin'," remarked giraffe, eagerly. giraffe's weakness lay in his adoration of fire. it was forever on his mind, and whenever he sat down to rest, his always keen-edged jack-knife was busy whittling shavings. "oh! we might want to make a fire later on, who knows; and then these shavings will come in real handy," he would say. he knew about every means possible for producing a blaze without the use of matches. the patrol leader, afraid lest giraffe set the woods afire up in maine, where the law is very particular about such things, had given giraffe the job of official fire-maker for the camp on condition that he agreed never to carry matches on his person, but to ask for them as needed. this put giraffe on his mettle. he began experimenting, first with a burning sun-glass, and a pinch of powder to start a blaze in the dry tinder. then he had used flint and steel successfully. and from this old-time method he advanced along the line, making fires in half a dozen primitive ways, until he came up against one that "stumped" him for a long time. this was the south sea island method of producing heat by friction. the scout had studied it well, made him a little bow, and spent many hours twirling the stick that was rolled back and forward by the cord. how success finally came, and at a time when it seemed giraffe really needed a fire, if ever he did in all his life, has been already told in a previous volume of this series. but the passion for a fire was just as much a part of giraffe's nature as it had ever been. and this was why his face lighted up, while his eyes glittered with happiness, when he heard the acting scoutmaster admit they ought to keep a good fire going all evening. trust giraffe for that; a wink was as good as a nod to him, when the subject of fire-building was concerned. later on, they sat around enjoying the venison steaks, and the trout which had been so beautifully browned in the frying-pan, after several slices of fat salt pork had been "tried out." "what are you putting that lot aside for, davy?" asked thad; just as if he did not know the generous thought which impelled the cook to reserve one good big portion of the supper. "why, i thought that mebbe bumpus might poke along after a bit," replied davy, adding another crisp trout to the pile he had heaped up, "and if he does, i guess he's apt to be pretty hungry. bumpus is a good feeder, we all know." "what d'ye suppose made him do it, thad?" asked step hen. "there," said the scoutmaster, "that's the question. none of us really know; but we can give a pretty good guess, eh, boys?" "i should say, yes," spoke up giraffe. "bumpus has gone clean crazy over this bear business." "said everybody was getting them but him," put in smithy; "and i'm sure that doesn't apply to me in the least. i never expect to get a bear; and my only hope is that no bear will get me." "and even if he didn't actually say the words." went on giraffe, "his manner stood for it all right--'you just wait, and i'm going to have my chance before long.' and fellers, it's my opinion bumpus just got tired of waiting for his chance to come to him, so he went out stalkin' after it." "no use trying to pick up his trail to-night, is there?" asked step hen. thad shook his head. "not in the least," he said. "we'll have to wait until morning, and hope he may show up yet. as i said before, we'll try and keep a fire going all night, so as to show him a beacon, if by good luck he keeps on turning to the left, as lost people nearly always do, and comes back this way." they sat up rather late, talking. and although the conversation might be of things that had happened in the past, it was easy to see what the chief thought in every one of those boys' minds must be; for never did a rabbit or a squirrel rustle the near-by underbrush that there did not come a look of eager expectancy upon seven faces, that quickly died out again with repeated disappointments. there is an old saying to the effect that "you never miss the water till the well runs dry." and these seven scouts of the silver fox patrol did not fully realize what a universal favorite bumpus hawtree had become until he was missing from camp. many times that night when either allan or thad, being light sleepers, took it upon themselves to crawl out from their blanket in the tent they occupied, to fix the smouldering fire, they would sit there a bit, and listen to see if by good luck they might hear a distant "halloo." but only the usual noises of the night greeted them. around lay the mysterious big timber, and somewhere in the unknown depths of this wide stretch of woods bordering the rocky mountain foothills their comrade was camping in solitude, doubtless a prey to lively fears. so morning found them. breakfast was quickly eaten. there was no "cutting up," or boyish pranks shown on this morning. every one seemed serious, gloomy, oppressed with doubts, and a vague sense of coming trouble. thad saw to it that a complete understanding was arranged with the three who were to remain in camp, being davy jones, bob white and smithy. and then the others, having each made up a few rations of food to carry them over possibly a couple of days, prepared to start upon the plain trail of bumpus, which had been easily found. a last wave of the hand, a few "good luck go with you's," from the boys in the camp, and then the trackers were swallowed up in the big timber. chapter vi. forced to think for himself. "what time d'ye suppose it is, thad?" step hen asked the question. perhaps he was a little tired himself, for the four scouts had been constantly on the go since early morning, and it was now getting well on into the afternoon. they had kept on the zigzag trail left by bumpus. as a rule it had been very easy following, and afforded all of them considerable enjoyment, because bumpus knew nothing at all concerning the art of hiding a trail, and would have had no object in doing so, even had he been educated along this line. but there were times when it happened that the formation of the ground interfered to some extent with their making progress, since even allan and thad had considerable to learn about reading signs. "oh! about four o'clock," replied thad, and instead of consulting his little nickel watch when saying this, he cast a quick glance upward to where a glimpse of the sun could be obtained through an opening in the tops of the exceedingly tall trees. thus the habit of observation is encouraged in a scout. he learns to depend less upon the devices of civilization, and more on such natural resources as the primitive folks enjoyed. "let's see how close you came to it," remarked giraffe, as he took out the cheap but effective dollar watch the patrol leader carried. "well, now, what d'ye think of that for hittin' the bull's eye plumb in the center." he held the watch up to show that the hands pointed exactly to four. thad laughed. "perhaps i couldn't hit it as close as that in a dozen times," he admitted. "but it's always easy to get pretty near the hour, day or night, if you only fall into the habit of noticing where the sun, moon or stars should be. there isn't a time in the night, if the sky happens to be clear, but what i can tell you the hour within ten minutes anyhow." "have we gained any on bumpus?" asked giraffe. at this question the scoutmaster shook his head. "i'm sorry to say we don't seem to gain any," he remarked. "where we picked up some at times, we lost again when the trail got faint." "huh! looks like an endless task, then," grunted step hen. "bumpus keeps tramping along, every day, and when night comes we're just the same distance behind. seems to me we'll just never get him at that rate." "oh!" replied thad, not at all dismayed, "we'll just keep at it, you know. lots of things are apt to happen to help us. bumpus will tire out soon. then he may get discouraged, and just make up his mind to stay in camp till we come." "which would be a mighty sensible thing for him to do," declared step hen. "but that wouldn't fetch him his bear," chuckled giraffe, "and that's the one thing worth living for with bumpus right now." "mebbe he's got over the fever," suggested step hen. "p'raps a reaction has set in by now." "let's hope so, anyhow," remarked allan. "and so bumpus was about here yesterday at four p. m.," said giraffe, "don't i wonder where he is now." "and what he's doing," added step hen. "one thing sure, he hadn't run across that bear of his up to this point." "which i take it was a lucky thing for bumpus," giraffe went on. "come on, fellows," thad went on to say, "we've still got the trail in front of us, and it seems to lead across that boggy stretch ahead. here's where he walked along the edge. then for some reason or other he started to cross over." "which i take it was a fool play for bumpus," grunted giraffe. "chances are a fellow of his heft would get stuck in the mud and mired." "mebbe he thought he saw his bear on the other side," suggested step hen. thad had plunged in, regardless of the mud. where bumpus went it seemed to be their duty to follow. "whew! wouldn't this give smithy a heartache though?" remarked giraffe, when the mud came half way to their knees, and seemed so sticky that it was only through some exertion that they lifted each foot. "but, much as he'd hate to do it," thad observed, proudly, "smithy would follow wherever his leader went. he's learned the rules by which all true scouts are governed, and obedience is one of them. what is it, allan?" he went on, as the other uttered an exclamation of dismay. "hold up, don't go a step further!" called out the other. "what's the matter?" demanded step hen, getting his gun ready, and casting a glance up at the branches of the trees as though he half expected to see a sleek gray panther crouched in a fork, ready to pounce down upon them. "look at the dry mud splattered on the trunk of that tree;" continued allan, pointing. and after they had looked, the four scouts exchanged horrified glances. "it's a sink hole!" exclaimed giraffe, turning pale. "and poor old bumpus was caught in the mud. he splashed around like a stranded porpoise, and that threw the stuff up on that tree trunk," step hen went on to say. "oh! it can't be as bad as that, can it, thad?" asked giraffe in a tremulous tone, as his eyes remained glued on the treacherous surface of the bog about the place where bumpus had been caught and held as in a vise. was it possible their poor comrade could have sunk out of sight under that smooth deceptive surface? the thought was too terrible. all at once thad uttered a cry, and the others noticed that it seemed to have a little ring of joy about it, rather than gloom. "hold my gun and my haversack, fellows," said the patrol leader. to the surprise of the others he started to climb a tree that had low limbs some of them not more than eight feet above the surface of the bog. "what in the dickens is he up to?" exclaimed step hen. "watch, and you'll see," allan went on to say. "do you know, allan?" demanded giraffe. "i can give a guess, but i don't want to spoil it all by telling," the other replied. "both of you stand right where you are, and don't move a foot ahead, or you may get in the same trouble bumpus did, and without his means of crawling out of the hole." at these mysterious words giraffe and step hen exchanged looks of amazement. they could not for the life of them imagine bumpus capable of doing anything that would be beyond them. "there, thad's managed to get to a place just above where bumpus must have been stuck," allan went on. "he's actually laughing!" exclaimed step hen. "what's struck you as funny, thad?" called out giraffe, unable to hold in. "well, as sure as you live, boys, he did it," replied the scoutmaster. "did what?" demanded both step hen and giraffe in concert. "got out of the muck bed." "but how could he, thad? that limb must a been two feet above his head when he stood there knee deep or more, in the mud. tell us how?" pleaded step hen. "here are the plain marks," thad went on, "where the bark of the tree was bruised, as it had a right to be with such a heavy weight as bumpus." "marks!" repeated giraffe. "good gracious! hurry up and tell us. marks of what, thad?" "the rope!" replied the other, still laughing. "rope! bumpus used his blessed old rope to drag himself out of the mud sink! well, well, well, if that don't beat the dutch," giraffe cried out. "it reflects great credit on bumpus," said the scoutmaster, warmly. "he must have quickly made up his mind that he could only sink deeper in by keeping up his floundering. then that nice limb above his head caught his eye, and he remembered about the rope." "bully for bumpus," cried giraffe. "i'm proud to call him my comrade," added step hen, warmly. "it must have taxed him a whole lot to drag himself up," said thad, "because he's so heavy, you know." "a case of 'root hog, or die,' i take it," step hen remarked; "and when he had to face the music bumpus proved real game. you're sure he made it, are you, thad?" "heaps of evidence to that effect," replied the other. "rope's gone, in the first place. then here's dried mud a plenty, showing that our pard was in this tree. i can even see which way he went, by the marks he left; and he was determined enough to cross the slough, for he kept right on." "suppose you follow him in the trees, thad," sang out allan, "while we hunt a better place to cross over without getting mired. we'll join you later. give a call when you've landed, and got his trail again." "fine," commended the patrol leader. "i'll get busy here then." he began climbing along the limb, and succeeded in safely passing into the adjoining tree, just as bumpus must have done. how the clumsy fat boy had succeeded in carrying out these capers puzzled the agile thad, for at times it tried even his agility to make progress. but thad was delighted to know that bumpus, upon being thrown on his own resources, could make good. before a great while his loud call announced to the others, who had just succeeded in finding a safe ford across the water and mud, that thad was once more on the ground, and ready to take up the trail. the little party started on again. both giraffe and step hen were filled with secret admiration for the stout comrade whom they had always been in the habit of rather looking down on as a good-natured fellow, but rather incapable. "don't for the life of me see how he ever done it," giraffe would say. "beats everything, and after this we ain't got any business to look on bumpus as a big baby. he got out of that hole just fine," step hen would add. half an hour later, allan came to a sudden halt. "ashes of a fire!" he remarked, pointing to his feet. "then here's where bumpus must a spent last night?" suggested step hen, looking curiously about. "wonder what he had to eat?" remarked giraffe. "oh! plenty of grub," thad said, laughingly. "look, here's the rind from a slice of our ham. davy said he'd cut some off." "think of the nerve of him," declared step hen. "but i just can see this rough experience is goin' to be the makin' of bumpus." "reminds me of the story of the bull pup," remarked thad, laughing. "you know, the boy had brought home a young bulldog, and the old man, to encourage the pup, had gone down on his hands and knees to bark at him, when the dog grabbed him by the nose and held on like fun. and while the old man was trying to break away, the boy was sicking the dog on, all the time shouting: 'stand it, dad, stand it as long as you can, because it's going to be the making of the pup!'" allen had been bending over the fire while all this talk was going on. he now looked up to remark: "guess he stuck several potatoes in his bag, too, before he started out," and he held up a couple of blackened skins, showing that the interior had been gauged out after the potatoes had been baked in the hot ashes. "good for bumpus, he's learning to take care of himself fast," cried thad. "that isn't all," remarked allan, smiling. "what next?" asked thad. "bumpus shows he's bound to be something of a hunter yet," declared allan, "and what he learned up in maine has been in his mind ever since." "do you mean about leaving fires burning when breaking camp, and the danger of the wind carrying the hot ashes among the dead leaves?" the scoutmaster went on to say, for he had eyes of his own, and had been watching allan's actions even while talking with the others. "that's just what i do mean," the other continued. "in the first place bumpus knew enough to make his camp close to running water, so he could get a drink whenever he wanted it." "i see he did," thad went on to say, glancing toward the gurgling little stream that ran not twenty feet away. "and when he left here this morning," continued allan, "he made sure to carry water from the creek and sprinkle the fire till it was dead. look, you can see for yourself that it's been wet down." "hurray for bumpus!" exclaimed giraffe. "i can see him passing the examination for a first-class scout some of these fine days," added step hen. "who'd ever think it of him?" they pushed on once more, after allan had even shown them the very stick on one end of which bumpus had thrust his slice of smoked ham, and cooked it, after a fashion. step hen put it up to his nose, and vouched for the accuracy of allan's assertion. but all the boys were a little tired, and when it grew too dark under the trees to see the trail of the lost tenderfoot they eagerly welcomed thad's suggestion that they rest up for the night. so giraffe was instructed to build a cooking fire at a certain place. it happened to be in a little natural basin, and here the four boys ate their supper, over which they talked earnestly, but there was no hilarity. later on while the others were partly done with their meal, allan left the circle and said he would take a little stroll. he went up the rise, as though desirous of seeing what lay beyond. the moon was about three-quarters full, and hung in the eastern sky; but under the big trees it was almost dark. shortly afterward allan came hurrying back, declaring that he had discovered what looked to be a lone camp-fire, at some distance away in the woods. "perhaps it's bumpus," suggested step hen, eagerly, jumping up, although still hungry. "then he didn't go far on the second day, or else he's been traveling in a circle and got back near where he started out from," said giraffe. "let's head over that way," step hen went on to say. "and surprise him, eh? that's the ticket, boys," giraffe continued. "that fire is a good long ways off," warned allan. "don't care if it is." "it looked like a star at first, and must be on rising ground, where the trees are more open," the discoverer continued. "lead us to it. we want to surprise bumpus," both the others declared. "how about it, thad?" allan asked. "it's the only thing we can do," replied the scoutmaster. "if it proves to be bumpus, we hadn't ought to take any chances of losing him again in the morning. if you're all of the same mind, let's be off." so the fire was carefully extinguished, and allan led his comrades to the top of the little rise. here he pointed out the object he said was a campfire, although giraffe and step hen believed they would have taken it for a star low down near the horizon, had they noticed it at all. after their bearings had been carefully taken, in order that they might head in a direct line for the fire, they started forth. by degrees the seeming star grew into a light of the first magnitude, and finally even the two less experienced scouts were ready to affirm that it must be a camp-fire. they kept on going. "we'll sure give old bumpus the biggest surprise of his life," chuckled step hen, as they drew nearer the place. of course they made some noise pushing along through the almost dark woods, but then bumpus would not be apt to hear that. perhaps the poor tired fellow was already fast asleep alongside the fire. a few minutes later, and the boys were very close to the blaze. giraffe thrust up his head above the bushes, which he was better fitted by nature for doing than any of his comrades. "don't see a sign of him about, fellers," he whispered, ducking down again. thereupon the others also raised their heads to look. there was the fire, burning cheerfully, and showing that it must have had recent care. but not a single sign of a human being was to be seen. it was very strange. "mebbe he heard us coming, and thought it was a bear," suggested step hen. "and in that case i guess bumpus would take to a tree," giraffe added. "perhaps we ought to step out right away, and let him know," came from allan. "i should say, yes," giraffe went on, "i know for one i'd hate to be peppered with the loads he carries in that marlin scatter gun of his. hello! there, bumpus, hold your fire. it's your chums come to look you up." the four scouts had arisen to their feet, and were just about to push out from behind the fringe of bushes, in order to show themselves to bumpus, when they were electrified to hear a voice, gruff and surly, and certainly not that of their jolly companion, call loudly: "jest hold up yer hands, you fellers, for we've sure got ye kivered!" chapter vii. turning the tables. "what's all this mean?" said thad, laughingly, although he did not fail to do as he had been ordered. two rather rough looking men came out of the scrub, carrying guns which seemed to be handled rather carelessly, seeing that they were evidently ready for immediate use. "why, consarn it all, pierre, they're on'y a pack o' boys arter all, and not sojers," the larger man exclaimed, staring hard at the four scouts, some of whom wore various parts of their regular khaki uniforms, as well as the regulation campaign hat of the boy scout organization. "_sacre!_ zat ees so," the other man exploded, and thad knew instantly from his name and manner of speech that pierre must be one of those french canadian half-breeds of whom he had heard so much. "that's just what we are, my friends," thad hastened to remark; "we belong to a boy scout troop in the east, and came out here to have a hunt in the rockies. one of our number, a very fat boy, wandered off, and got lost in the big timber. we were following up his trail, and trying to locate him, when we discovered a camp-fire over here. so you see, we walked another mile just to give our friend a little surprise. but we hope you'll let us take down our hands now, because it's hard to hold them up like this." the two men exchanged looks. then they lowered the hammers of their guns. the action signified that, according to their way of thinking, they had nothing to fear from these half-grown lads. "cum an' set down an' tell us a lot more," said the big man, with the red face, and the crafty eyes, thad could not bring himself to like, because he seemed to see wells of treachery in their depths. so the boys dropped down again, being more foot-weary than ever. but taking a cue from allan and thad, the other two scouts kept their guns close beside them. apparently none of them exactly liked the looks of the two strangers; and they were not accustomed to much reading of character, either. "war his name bumpus?" asked the american. "just what it was," flashed out giraffe; "but how did you know that? have you met up with our lost pard?" "sho! ain't i got ears, an' didn't one o' ye call out that same name when ye was agoin' ter walk inter our camp?" demanded the other, gruffly. thad was on the alert. he did not feel favorably impressed by the looks of the two men. besides, he noticed a crafty, greedy expression cross their faces whenever they allowed their eyes to rest on step hen's new repeating rifle. evidently the neatness of the little weapon quite captured them, and made them envy the boy its possession. and thad was of the opinion that two such rough-looking customers would not hesitate long about trying to obtain anything they coveted. the conversation soon became more general, the men wanting to know how it was these boys, almost wholly inexperienced in the ways of the woods as they took them to be, were venturesome enough to start into the foothills of the rockies without a single guide along. so thad explained how they had engaged a pair of guides, both of whom had disappointed them, one by getting sick, and the other in taking up with a couple of big-horn sportsmen. "but we heard of a man up here somewhere," thad went on, "who'd been logger, trapper, timber cruiser and everything; and people said that if we could only run across toby smathers, and he took the job, we'd have a guide worth any two men." "what's thet? toby smathers, did ye say?" demanded the other, that crafty look coming into his face again. "yes, that was the name; do you happen to know him?" asked giraffe, eagerly. "reckons now, as none o' ye ever run acrost toby; air thet right?" asked the man. "we never have," replied thad. the fellow laughed harshly. "thet shore is a fack," he went on to say. "jest think o' it, pierre laporte, they's askin' o' me ef i ever run acrost toby smathers? ain't thet a good joke, though? i've kerried a few names in my day, younkers, an' toby smathers be one o' 'em." "oh! then you're the very man we've been looking for, eh?" but while thad uttered this sentiment, there did not seem to be any great amount of enthusiasm in his manner, allan thought. "he believes the fellow lies; and i just know it," allan was saying to himself. "an' if so be ye wanter make me a offer, spot cash, ter guide ye boys through the big timber, find yer missin' chum, and show ye some big-horn huntin' in the rockies, i'm yer man; on'y make the price wuth my while, an' cash down, spot cash." thad said he had no doubt it could be easily arranged to the satisfaction of all parties concerned. his object was really to gain time. he had received a secret sign from allan, which told him just as plainly as so many words would have done that his chum had something of importance to communicate, as soon as they could get their heads together. step hen and giraffe had apparently swallowed the story offered by the self-called toby smathers without a suspicion. they were now entertaining the two men with some accounts of previous experiences. the fellows seemed to be in high spirits. they would nudge each other, and laugh boisterously on the slightest pretense. and sometimes they would laugh when there was no humorous story being told; a look exchanged between them being sufficient grounds for hilarity. "they're sure enough feeling pretty fine," thought thad; "and it strikes me they think they've got a little joke of their own that they're playing on us. three to one it's about that name, too. i just can't believe that man answers to the description i've had of toby smathers. why, they said he was just the picture of an honest wood's ranger, employed by the government to watch out for timber thieves, forest fires and the likes. and that man's face would condemn him on sight before any judge." just then he heard allan say he was thirsty, and must get a drink. the stream ran near by, and thad noticed how the cautious maine boy carried his gun along with him as he went. a minute or so later thad also arose. "i'm as dry as a bone," he observed, "and i think i'd like a drink about the size of the one allan's getting. wait here, fellows." he added these last words as a sop to quiet the suspicions of pierre and the man who called himself toby smathers. they had frowned, and made an impatient movement upon noticing that thad, too, took his gun along with him, rather a queer thing to do when only going for a drink. but thad's last words apparently served to disarm their suspicions. they had two of the boys held as hostages, at any rate. thad found his chum much excited. a drink just then was about the last thing allan hollister was thinking about. "what is it?" asked thad, in a whisper. "let's laugh a little, out loud, so they won't be suspicious," said the other; and after that clever dodge had been carried out, he went on to add: "you didn't believe what he said about that name, did you, thad?" "i certainly don't believe he's the man we're looking for up here," came the answer. "that's right," allan went on, "and i know he's a fraud. he wants to get hold of anything we have that's worth taking. that gun of step hen's seems to just take his eye." "do you know who he is?" demanded thad. "i can give a pretty close guess, now that we heard the name of his companion, pierre laporte," said allan. "some men down at the post where we got the mules told me to look out for a half-breed by that name, who kept company with an even worse scoundrel named hank dodge. and this is hank, all right, make up your mind to that, thad." "rascal is written big all over his face, i can see," the other went on. "but what is their line--just plain scamps, or timber cruisers?" "there are different kinds of timber scouts or cruisers, they tell me," allan continued. "some are honest men, working for honest lumber dealers. others spy out rich tracts on government land, which the big company of thieves they're hired by, want to cut next winter. the government loses millions on millions every year that way. and these crafty fellows are up here looking for timber that can be easily stolen and marketed next winter." "what had we better do?" asked thad. "it wouldn't be safe for us to spend the night in camp with them." "i should say not," replied allan earnestly. "if we go in the ordinary way the chances are they'll jump on us. so i suppose we might as well up and tell them we know who they are, and that we don't propose staying any longer in their company." "they'll be as mad as hornets," suggested thad. "let 'em," replied the other, "four guns are better than two, any day. come on back to the fire right away." as they drew near, allan whispered: "he's got it right now, step hen's rifle, i mean. reckon he asked to see it, and our chum handed it over. chances are he won't give it back again in a hurry. there, what did i tell you; he's laid it down beside him, thad?" "now's our time to cut in, then," said the patrol leader. "you watch out for pierre, and don't let him slip up on you, or there'll be heaps of trouble. cover him when i do the other. ready? then here goes." and ten seconds later those by the fire heard thad call out in ringing tones. "it's your turn, pierre and hank dodge, to hold up your hands. quick now, or it'll be the worse for you. the tables are turned--up with them!" chapter viii. a scout should always be on the alert. when the young scoutmaster chose to, he could put a world of meaning in his voice. and those two timber cruisers, upon seeing both guns covering them so steadily, doubtless realized that firearms are no respecter of persons; since a weapon fired by a lad is just as sure to make good, if held correctly, as though a mature man looked along the barrel. and so they complied with the order, although grumblingly, and evidently loth to admit that a couple of boys had gotten the better of them. "this hyars a nice how-d'ye-do, treatin' yer guide like he was pizen mean. what d'ye mean by it, younker?" growled the man who had claimed to be toby smathers, the forest ranger. "oh! it only means that we've guessed who you are," remarked thad, calmly. "we were warned down at the post to look out for a couple of unscrupulous timber cruisers by the name of hank dodge and pierre laporte. and we don't want to have anything to do with you, that's all." "take keer, young feller, who yer insultin'," growled hank, ominously. "oh!" said giraffe, airily, who made sure to have his own gun ready in his hands at the time he spoke in such boasting tones, "we don't scare so easy, mister hank dodge, if that's your name. fact is, the boys of the silver fox patrol have helped gather in a few men even more dangerous than you and your pal ever dared to be." "be still, giraffe," ordered thad, who knew it was unwise to add to the anger of the ruffians. "now, we don't mean to bother you at all, hank dodge. our business up here has nothing to do with timber cruisers; and we're not hired by the government to watch for any steels of lumber, or land frauds. we came here to camp out, and to hunt. and just now we're busy looking up the comrade who has lost himself in these big woods. do you understand what i say?" "reckon as how ye put it plain enuff, younker," replied the other, wondering if thad noticed that he was gradually lowering his arms; but the very next words uttered by the boy told him this. "hold 'em up high again, hank! i don't want to have to shoot you through the shoulder or the legs, but i will, if you try to grab up that rifle." with a string of hard words the man elevated his hands once more; but if black looks could kill, thad must have expired on the spot. "step hen," said the patrol leader. "yes, what is it, thad?" "go forward, and recover your gun," the other went on, severely. "i'm surprised at you letting it get out of your hands at all. a wide-awake scout should be smarter than that. and step hen!" "yes." "be sure you don't for even a second get between the muzzle of my gun and our friend hank, there; because i'm going to shoot the very second he makes the first move looking to grabbing either you, or the gun. hear that, step hen?" "sure i do, thad, and i'll be careful, just as you say," came the reply. the boy crept up on one side, and lying down flat on his chest, reached out an arm, thus starting to draw his own highly-prized little repeater toward him. hank could see it going, and ground his teeth in helpless rage, for he could also watch the determined gleam in those convincing eyes of thad brewster, and only too well did he know what sort of hard luck would be apt to overtake him, if he but allowed himself to be tempted too far. when step hen gripped his little gun once more, he made haste to draw back the hammer. and thus a fourth weapon was brought to bear upon the persons of the two notorious timber thieves. hank dodge laughed. it was not a mirthful sound at all, but rather caused a shiver to pass through the forms of those who heard it. "we throws up ther sponge, me an' pierre, don't we, ole hoss?" said hank. "four against two--zat ees too mooch odds. we cave; we gif in; we cry out, enough!" exclaimed the ferret-eyed french canadian _voyageur_, who, they said, had once been the factor at a hudson bay fur company's post until he betrayed his trust, and fled to the states with a bunch of money belonging to his employers. "well, we want to say good-night then, to both of you," said thad. "we ain't agoin' ter forget this, let me tell yer," replied hank. "i don't see why there need be any hard feelings between us," thad went on. "it's only tit for tat. you held us up first, and now we've returned the favor. and we haven't taken anything from you, hank dodge." "but--held up by a pack o' kids; we'll never be able ter look each other in the face agin till it's wiped out, sum way," the man went on to say, angrily. thad knew that further argument would be useless. there was only one thing men of their calibre could appreciate, and that was force. "oh! well," he said, as if carelessly, "you can do just as you please about it. but i want to tell you this plainly, right on the start. we're all armed, and can shoot as well as the next one. we're no tenderfeet, like our chum who is lost. and if in spite of this plain warning you choose to molest us, look out you don't get something you won't like. that's all i'm going to say; but you can put it in your pipe and smoke it. back off, fellows, but keep 'em both covered, and shoot if they try to grab up a gun!" so the four scouts backed out of the hostile camp, the air of which did not seem to agree with them. those avaricious eyes belonging to hank dodge did not create a favorable impression on any of the young campers. "i sure believe he meant to keep my dandy little gun," step hen was muttering, as, having passed out of sight of the two timber cruisers, the scouts walked along in couples, on the alert for any signs of further trouble. "just what he expected to do," replied thad. "and another time we happen on any unknown men in this part of the country, see to it that you keep your gun in your own possession, step hen." "i sure will," replied the other, humbly enough; "i had my lesson, all right." "what if they're coming after us?" suggested giraffe; and the very possibility of such a thing caused step hen to utter a little cry of alarm, and turn in several directions, as though expecting to discover crouching foes, or see the flash that would accompany the discharge of a hostile gun. but nothing happened; and presently allan, who had been looking back over his shoulder many times, announced that there was no danger. "they haven't left the camp up to now," he said, positively. "i can see their figures moving in front of the fire. it's all right, boys. we can go, and settle down after a little for the night." presently thad called a halt. "here, we can make a stop," he announced. "there's a little swale at the base of this rocky hill. if we wanted we could make a small fire, and finish our supper. i don't think they'd see it; and besides, allan and myself will stand guard up on the ridge here." this plan was carried out, since they had not wholly satisfied their appetites at the time allan discovered the camp-fire which they supposed had been kindled by the lost tenderfoot, bumpus. afterwards thad and allan came in, the fire having been extinguished, and ate a little. then they talked in low tones. "it makes me feel uneasy," remarked giraffe, "to think of that poor innocent thing of a bumpus, who wouldn't lift a finger to hurt even a fly, wanderin' around all alone in these big woods." "yes," added step hen, seriously enough, "and with a couple of hard cases like that hank dodge and pierre laporte around. what if he was unlucky enough to run across 'em? wouldn't they just take revenge on our poor fat chum. i hope that don't happen." thad was not saying anything, but it struck him that the fellow who could show enough ingenuity to get himself out of a quicksand, or a muck bed, the way bumpus had done, might be far from the ignoramus some of his comrades still chose to believe him. "i'm getting sleepy, and i move we turn in," suggested giraffe after more time had elapsed. "well, hold on then, because we've got to make a move out of this basin," said the shrewd patrol leader. "seems a good enough place to bunk in," grumbled the sleepy giraffe. "but dangerous at that," thad remarked. "those men may have glimpsed our fire, and give us a call. we'll not be at home to them. i've been told that a hunted man never sleeps where he eats. come along; it won't be far, i promise you." after a short walk, thad announced that in his opinion, as well as that of allan, it was now safe for them to lie down, and get what sleep they could. "i hope bumpus is as well off, and got plenty to eat still," were the last words giraffe spoke; "i remember the time we got twisted in our bearings up in maine, and nary a match between us, with a cold night at hand. but i got fire all right with my little apparatus. besides, there was two of us, and it don't seem near so lonely when you've got company along, even if it is only a tenderfoot scout." soon all of them had made themselves as comfortable as possible. the absence of blankets was going to be severely felt. without a camp-fire to cheer them, thad feared they would be shivering before morning, even if it was the good old summer time. the atmosphere close to the foothills of the great rockies is quite rarefied, and the nights are apt to seem even cold. the four scouts were pretty tired, and they not only went to sleep quickly, but they slumbered heavily--it might have been hours for all any one of them could say, when they were suddenly awakened by a series of heavy crashes and detonations that sounded very much as though an earthquake had shaken the rockies to their foundation. chapter ix. the mean trick of the timber cruisers. "a land-slide!" exclaimed giraffe, as he sat up, and began twisting his long neck around, as though doubtful whether he should dodge to the right or to the left, since it was difficult to locate the direction from whence the furious racket seemed to come. "better say an earthquake!" step hen managed to articulate, though he was shaking all over, with the excitement, that he would hardly have recognized his own voice. "i c'n feel the old ground shake! listen, would you, to that smash! must be volcanoes around here." "keep still, and listen," said thad, in that tone of authority which both the talkers recognized as belonging to the scoutmaster, rather than their chum thad. so they held their tongues, and strained their ears to listen. there was no trouble in hearing, for the racket still kept up. there were heavy thuds, crashes, and a breaking of bushes. no wonder the scouts were mystified. no wonder one thought it a land-slide, while another believed some supposed extinct volcano had burst into action again, and that the rain of stones that followed, produced these weird sounds. all at once the racket stopped, just as suddenly as though a command had been given to "cease firing." "well, i declare, if that ain't funny, now," remarked step hen, but because of the order for silence which thad had issued, he dared not breathe a word above a whisper. "hark!" said allan. surely that sounded like a hoarse laugh. the boys crouched there, and strained their ears to hear more. once or twice they thought they caught vague sounds. it was as if some one might be moving along the rocky elevation that formed one side of the near-by little basin in which they had made their small fire, and finished their once interrupted supper. but the sounds were moving further away, as though the unknown parties might be retreating. then silence, deep and profound, brooded over the immediate vicinity of the spot where the four startled scouts sat. "may we talk now, thad?" asked giraffe. "yes, but let it be in a low voice," replied the patrol leader. "jerusalem!" exclaimed step hen, just as though he had to let the pent-up steam escape, one way or another, and it took the form of this expression. "what does it all mean?" asked step hen, plainly confused, and unable to clearly grasp the truth. "i think i know," remarked thad. "then tell us, please," quickly asked giraffe. "sounded like a laugh to me." "just what it was, too," thad went on. "but who'd want to act funny when all that racket was going on, thad?" continued giraffe, who seemed unusually thick headed just then, possibly on account of being aroused in such a startling manner. "the men who made all the row," replied the scoutmaster. "men who made the row--great governor! d'ye mean these rowdies, hank and pierre?" burst out giraffe. "no other," said thad, positively. "they must have located our little fire in some way, and supposed that we were sleeping close by. so they crept up along the side of that bare ridge, where the stones are so thick, and just started to heave a few dozen down. that's why it sounded like thunder and hail combined." "the cowards!" hissed giraffe, whose honest blood seemed to almost boil with indignation; "the sneaks! afraid to face four boys because they believed we could shoot some, they had to crawl around to the back door, and play a trick that you'd think would be about the size of the meanest boy in our home town of cranford, brose griffin." "they laughed over it, too," burst out step hen, almost as angry as his long-legged chum, "and that shows what kind of fellows they are." "altogether, it was a lucky escape for us," remarked allan. "that's what," added giraffe. "and we owe a heap to thad's long head. never sleep where you eat--that was a pretty good rule for the old hunter to have, when painted injuns were all around him. and by george! it seems to be all right, even in these modern days." "wow! just think what a time we'd a had," observed step hen, "if we'd been sleepin' there just as sweetly as--as the babes in the woods, and all of a sudden them rocks began to smash around us. i can just see the whole blessed outfit scrambling in the dark, trying to get behind trees, and yet not knowing which side of the trunk was the safe side." step hen actually chuckled a little, as though a gleam of humor had begun to light up the serious nature of the situation. "it was a game just in keeping with such a precious pair of rascals," declared thad. "they might have injured some of us badly; and that was just what they hoped to do." "perhaps killed us in the bargain," allan added. "some of the rocks they heaved into that little basin were just fierce. they came down like cannon balls. it was like what rip van winkle heard, when the little old men of the catskills were playing ten pins with big rocks." "but thad," remarked giraffe, "when they get to thinking it over, don't you reckon now they'll guess they didn't do any damage?" "just what was in my mind," replied the leader of the patrol. "they must know that even men would have yelled, and shown all sorts of excitement, when bombarded in that way. but let 'em think what they please. i hope we'll never cross their trail again." "second the wish," said allan. "that's where i differ with you," declared the aroused giraffe, "i'd just like to pay the cowards back for that dirty trick; and i will, too, if the chance ever comes along." "i'm only bothering about one thing," observed step hen. "and what's that?" thad inquired. "what if they run across our innocent chum, poor old bumpus?" step hen went on to say, "why, he's so confiding, and so straight himself, that he couldn't believe wrong of anybody. why, they'd rob him of his gun, and everything else he had; and then turn him loose like that, in the big timber. oh! i hope they just don't find bumpus before we get to him. it would be a shame!" "like taking candy from the baby," added giraffe. "well, let's go to sleep again! we can talk it over in the morning," suggested thad. "don't believe i c'n sleep another wink," declared step hen. but in spite of his gloomy prophecy, he did drop off again soon after stretching himself out on the ground, in the softest spot he could find; and knew nothing more until some one shook him. looking up, step hen discovered that the dawn was stealing through the timber, and that thad bent over him. the other two were already astir. giraffe was busying himself, as usual, in getting a little fire underway; for thad had given it as his opinion that after playing such a dastardly mean trick, hank and pierre, the lawless timber cruisers would not feel like venturing over in this quarter again, lest they be greeted with a warm fire from the guns of the boys. all of the scouts felt more or less chilled, as the early morning air was pretty cool, and consequently the fire proved acceptable. as they munched their breakfast thad announced that he had found the trail of bumpus again. this meant that when they were ready to start out, there would be little delay. of course, pretty much all the talk was about the event of the preceding night, and the fortunes of their lost comrade. "when i shut my eyes," said giraffe, "i c'n just see that blessed innocent awalkin' through these here woods, awhistlin' for his bear to come out and be shot." "and i'm wonderin'," remarked step hen, "whether bumpus, if he does run across a cinnamon bear, just through the luck greenhorns seem to have, would climb his tree _first_, and then begin shooting; or just bang away, like he did before, and make for a tree afterwards." "oh! well, i guess bumpus learned his little lesson that time, all right," declared giraffe, with the superior air of one who had already gotten _his_ bear, and could afford to look down on those not so fortunate. "he was scared, good and hard," step hen went on. "why, his face looked like pie paste, and his goggle eyes fairly stood out of his head when he couldn't get up in that tree, with the old grizzly a comin' for him, growlin', and champin' his teeth." thad only smiled as he heard these remarks that had an undercurrent vein of condescending pity for the tenderfoot chum. if he remembered correctly, bumpus was not the only frightened scout about the time that wounded grizzly charged the camp. he had plenty of company. when they had finished eating, the fire was put out; and after that they made for the spot where thad had found the trail of the lost scout. it was as plain as day just there, even though some twenty-four hours must have elapsed since the fat and ambitious nimrod passed that way. giraffe and step hen were suspicious of the two rascally timber cruisers, and persisted in keeping their eyes constantly on the alert, searching every possible spot for an ambuscade, and holding their guns ready for quick work. the patrol leader did not attempt to interfere, although he and allan were of the opinion that the men would not bother trying to look them up. it gave the boys more or less practice, and did no harm. and so the little bunch of scouts started to once more lift the trail of their missing chum. chapter x. the bob-cat. the morning was half gone, and they had been making pretty fair progress. "but," said giraffe, when allan mentioned this fact, "if we're only holding our own, that means we'll never glimpse the poor old chap in a week, 'less he just drops down from being so worn out, reduced to skin and bones, so to speak," and both he and step hen chuckled at the possibility of bumpus ever coming to such an end. "oh! i don't know," said allan. "there's always a chance that you might sight him somewhere. you see, he turns every which way. now he's heading almost north; and a little while back it was nearly due east. perhaps he may double on his tracks yet; we can't tell." "and if he did, and happened to discover all our footprints, what d'ye think the blessed innocent would do?" asked giraffe. "be scared stiff, most likely, and think injuns must be trailing him, bound to take his scalp," laughed step hen. thad stopped for a minute's breathing spell. "i think both of you are wrong there," he remarked, "and if bumpus did only happen to come on his own trail, after we'd passed along, the chances are he'd just make up his mind to sit down, and wait for us to come around again." "you don't say?" exclaimed step hen. "how in the wide world would bumpus ever guess it was _us_ made the tracks?" giraffe demanded, incredulously. "he wouldn't have to guess, because he'd know!" thad ventured. "you must believe that fat chum of ours is waking up, thad? just tell us, will you now, how he'd be so dead sure of this? we haven't been dropping our visiting cards along the way, that i saw," and step hen gave giraffe a sly wink. "well, we have, right along," thad continued, "and unless i'm much mistaken, bumpus can read the signs all right. he knows what kind of an imprint your shoes make, step hen, and how there's a bunch of nails shaped like a star in both of your heels. look down there, and you'll notice them." "well, i'll be jiggered if there ain't!" muttered the surprised step hen, as if the fact was quite new to him. "and giraffe, he also knows that you 'toe in' with your right foot, so that each time you step it makes a little peculiar scrape. bend down and i'll show you, here, and here, and here. catch on to it, now, giraffe?" "well, i never knew that before; but it's a fact, thad, i do turn that foot some, i admit. tried to break off the habit lots of times, but it's no use." "more than that," said thad, "look at my track, and you'll see there's a marked peculiarity that makes it different from any other. i had a piece put on each heel, and the line shows as plain as anything. and now here's allan's footprint--do you see anything about that you'd be likely to recognize if you ran across it again?" "sure we do," burst out giraffe. "the shoe is square at the toes, broader than any other. besides that, allan walks with his feet nearly straight, and most people turn them out some; all but those that toe-in." "well, you see, now, that each one of us has an individual mark," continued the patrol leader, wishing to impress the lesson on the others. "yes, that's all right, thad; but how would a tenderfoot like bumpus know all about these things?" persisted giraffe. "how do _you_ know?" demanded the leader. "huh! because you just told us, i guess," the tall scout admitted. "well, that's just the case with bumpus," went on thad. "of late he's taken a remarkably deep interest in the thousand-and-one things that are open to the eyes of a scout, if only he chooses to look around. and so, when he asked about following a trail, i showed him how to tell the marks of every scout in the patrol, himself included. and bumpus wrote them all down in that little notebook he carries." "well, if that don't beat all creation!" exclaimed giraffe. "just imagine the poor boy squattin' down, to pull out his note-book, and then say: 'there, i know giraffe made those tracks; and that other must be the manly tread of my good friend, step hen bingham!' i guess it's up to us to improve each shining hour, ourselves, giraffe, like the busy little bee. we don't want a tenderfoot like bumpus to beat us out, do we?" "not much we don't," said giraffe. and for three minutes the two of them were busily engaged writing descriptions in their scout's note-book, with which every one in the patrol was provided; stopping now and then to examine or measure one of the tracks. when this operation was concluded, much to the amusement of thad and allan, the forward movement was again resumed. but it seemed as though this little incident must have aroused the curiosity and ambition of giraffe and step hen, for they frequently asked questions that had more or less bearing on trailing. and the information which allan was able to give, in addition to what the scoutmaster said, quite enthused both searchers after facts. "say, i never thought there was so much in this trackin' business," step hen honestly admitted. "i used to believe it was pretty much of a fake, and that fellers just kind of went along, smellin' out things, like a setter or a hound would. but now i see it's a whole lot of fun; and i'm going in for trackin'. i am to be a champion trailer." "look out there, fellers!" shouted giraffe. they saw him swing his gun around, and almost immediately discharge the heavy rifle. all of the others hastened to get their guns in a serviceable condition, even while they were looking to see what had happened to excite the tall scout. something flashed from one tree to another, and vanished amidst the dense growth of leaves. as this tree was close to others, the chances were that the animal would have little difficulty in eluding them. "wow! a big wildcat!" exclaimed step hen, in great excitement. "tell me, did you see his left hind leg drag _just a little_, when he landed on that limb?" asked giraffe, eagerly. "oh! you aimed to take him on the left hind leg, did you?" jeered step hen, advancing a pace in the hope of discovering the beast crouching above, and offering a fair target. "i hadn't time to aim, but just shot any old way," declared the other. "fact is, i don't believe the butt of my gun was more'n half way to my shoulder when i let go. he was agoin' to jump right then, and i knew it was hit or miss with me." "a dangerous thing to do when it's a lynx or a bob-cat," remarked allan, who, being a maine boy, had had lots of experience with the fierce beasts. "better have let him get clean away. but i don't think you wounded him, giraffe." "huh? why not?" "because i never knew a wildcat that was wounded to run away," allan replied. "once you give them pain, and you can make up your mind you've got a fight on your hands, and the chances are, a warm one too." giraffe looked disappointed. "well, i tried for him, anyway," he remarked. "let's see if we can glimpse his old staring yellow eyes somewhere up there." but they failed to do so. "make up your minds he's got clean off before now," said allan. "the way one of those big cats can spring from tree to tree is fierce. but we haven't the time just now to be looking for cats. i don't believe we've lost any, do you, thad?" "but that old rascal seemed to be hanging on a limb just about over where our tenderfoot pard must have passed by," ventured giraffe, a new fear arising in his breast. "oh! my, i hope now he wasn't there when bumpus came along," remarked step hen, as if comprehending the thought that had taken form in the mind of his comrade. "what's this mean, thad?" asked allen, just then, pointing down close to his feet; and the other three uttered various exclamations when they saw what he was referring to. "spots of dried blood!" gasped giraffe. "it is, now, for a fact," step hen followed with, "oh! that cat must have jumped on poor old bumpus, and clawed him up something scandalous. he bled like a stuck pig, as he ran off. and see here, where something's been just dragging along the ground. what if he's wounded so bad he had to pull one leg after him? this is just awful, fellers. poor old bumpus!" but thad and allan somehow did not seem to join with the others in feeling sorry. at least they made no remarks. and as they all walked slowly on, following the blood-stained tracks, if giraffe or step hen, instead of keeping their eyes so closely upon the ground, had ventured to raise them a little, so as to take in the faces of their chums, doubtless their surprise would have been great to notice that thad wore a broad smile, while allan was making various suggestive gestures, and winking one eye in the direction of the scoutmaster. so they walked slowly forward a score or more of paces, when giraffe and step hen were once more startled. this time it was not by the sudden appearance of a ferocious wild beast, but only the voice of allan calling out: "oh! look! look! whatever can that be, hanging yonder from the limb of that tree?" chapter xi. bumpus' stock above par. "same old cat again!" burst out giraffe; and he was in the act of raising his gun, to his shoulder this time, when thad caught hold of it. "don't be silly, giraffe!" cried the patrol leader. "but--it _is_ a cat!" exclaimed the other, rubbing his eyes with the knuckles of one hand, and looking again. meanwhile step hen had cautiously advanced a pace or two, staring at the dangling object as though he did not know whether to really believe his eyes or not. giraffe, seeing him going on, pushed to his side; and when the two of them came close to the object that had gripped their attention, they turned to exchange stares. "a dead cat!" said giraffe, solemnly. "and hung up by the hind legs to that limb; now who could have done that?" demanded step hen. "must have been the same old critter that tackled our poor chum, bumpus, back yonder. some friendly forest ranger just happened along in the nick of time, and used his rifle on the yowler. here's where the bullet hit him, right in the heart," and giraffe laid his finger on the wound. "but say, here's where another caught him on the square head, and this hole shows where yet a third passed through his body. why, he's been riddled, all shot to pieces, that's plain!" step hen declared, positively; and the other two listened, not wanting to break in just yet. "buckshot, not a rifle bullet ended this here cat, that's sure," said giraffe. "and say, bumpus is carrying a two-shot marlin scatter gun that uses buckshot cartridges!" went on step hen. they looked at each other again, and then once more eyed the swinging trophy of _some one's_ skill. "but it's silly to think of _him_ knockin' over a ferocious animal like this here cat," giraffe ventured to say. "i never saw a bigger one; and he must have looked fierce enough, i tell you, when he was alive, and could arch up his back, and just growl in a way to make your blood run cold." "h'm! s'pose you take a squint up to where the legs are tied to the limb of that tree, giraffe?" suggested step hen, chuckling now with a new sense of humor. the tall scout craned his long neck, the better to see. "jupiter! say, that does look like it, now," he admitted. "that's what it is, sure enough," avowed step hen, "a piece cut from that rope bumpus carries. you can see it's braided sash cord, and i'd know that old rope among a thousand. he done it, all right, bumpus did!" giraffe whistled, to indicate the extent of his amazement. "who'd ever think he had it in him?" he observed, scratching his head as he stood there, and gazed at the dangling wildcat. "i reckon, now, he must a had the best luck ever, when he just shut his eyes and pulled trigger. this old cat must a wanted to commit suicide. p'raps he just climbed up and looked into the muzzle of bumpus' gun." "you know better'n that, giraffe. he must have been some distance away, or else the buckshot wouldn't have scattered as much as it did. i reckon, now, our fat chum is improving a heap. that was a great shot." "good for you, step hen," thad broke in to say. "and take another look at the cat, will you? tell me if you see anything strange about him? i imagine the one giraffe chased away was a mate to this, and must have been smelling at the body still, when we came up." step hen uttered a little cry, and then remarked: "well, would you believe it, the old thing was a cripple. you can see he only had three paws. the aft fore paw is gone. like as not it was bitten off in some fight he had long ago." "you're wrong!" cried giraffe, who had leaned forward to examine the injury at closer quarters. "that ain't any old hurt. the blood is as fresh as any of the rest, and i guess it only happened yesterday." "fine. go on," declared thad, and the tall scout, spurred on by that word of commendation, to exert himself to the utmost, was quick to continue. "i can see that the paw wasn't bitten off, nor yet shot away," he remarked. "the cut is as clean as a whistle, and i reckon only a sharp hunting knife would do the job like that." "but what would bumpus want to go and hack a paw off the old cat for?" objected step hen. "why, for a trophy, silly," answered the' other, quickly. "he just didn't know how to skin the beast, and hardly liked the job of toting it all around with him. so you see, to convince the rest of us that he'd really and truly knocked over a wildcat, he just took that paw along. how's that, mr. scoutmaster?" "you hit the nail on the head that time, giraffe," answered thad, pleased at the way the other had figured things out, for it proved that, once aroused to do his best, the tall scout possessed the ability required for reading "signs." and this was one of the things that thad brewster, as acting head of the troop, always tried to impress upon the minds of the scouts under him. "let every tub stand on its own bottom." "learn to depend on yourself; do your own thinking; keep on the watch, and see all the wonderful things that are constantly happening around you in the great storehouse of nature." "be awake, active"--in a word, as the manual of the organization has it, "be prepared." giraffe and step hen had been tremendously staggered by the knowledge that the stout comrade, whom they always looked down on as a weakling, and called their "tenderfoot pard" with such a tone of patronage, seemed to be actually waking up, and doing things. it was not enough that he exhibit the nerve to want to go out in search of a bear, all by himself. there was that episode of the muck bed for example--that sent bumpus' stock up a few points above par. it revealed the fact that in an emergency the fat boy could actually _think for himself_. instead of allowing himself to get "rattled" after discovering that he was gripped fast in the tenacious mud, bumpus had looked around him, and noticed that convenient limb above his head. of course he had stretched out his hands toward it, but vainly, as they must have fallen short by two feet or more of reaching the limb. and then bumpus remembered the fine rope he was carrying around his fat waist, under the conviction that it might come in handy some time or other. well, it did. bumpus had drawn himself out of the mud, and up to the friendly limb of the tree; though it surely must have proven a most severe tax on his untrained muscles, he was such a heavy weight. giraffe admitted, deep down in his mind, that he could not have done any better himself. and now, here was this same blundering, awkward bumpus, actually knocking over a monstrous wildcat, one of the most ferocious animals roaming through the swamps adjoining the big timber belt. it was commencing to dawn upon the minds of those two boys that, beginning right now, they would have to revise their opinion of bumpus. he hardly seemed a fit candidate for the greenhorn grade of scout. really, there seemed to be some class to this work he was putting up, that promised to raise him high up in the estimation of his comrades. in fact, both of the boys who stood there, examining the hanging bob-cat, were beginning to wonder what next bumpus would do. "seems to be another feller," remarked step hen. "right you are," replied giraffe. "i never would have believed he had it in him. biggest surprise ever. gosh! step hen, after this, d'ye know, it wouldn't take much to make me expect bigger things." "you mean----" "that if he keeps on going at this warm pace, bumpus might even get his old bear yet, who knows," giraffe asserted. thad and allan noticed with considerable amusement and satisfaction that the boys no longer alluded to the lost comrade as "poor old bumpus," and "our tenderfoot pard." their pity for the clumsy scout was fast changing into sincere admiration, respect. and surely bumpus deserved it. "a good lesson all around, eh thad?" whispered allan in the other's ear. "just what it is," was the scoutmaster's reply in the same low tone. "bumpus is learning to depend on himself," allan went on. "and these boys have been taught to be more careful how they allow themselves to feel so superior to a comrade who happens to be slower about waking up. they won't forget this in a hurry." "sure they won't," added allan. "come, boys, let's be going on," thad remarked, aloud. "i don't exactly like the looks of the sky over yonder where the breeze is coming out of." these words of the scoutmaster caused giraffe and step hen to turn and look back of them. so much engaged had they been in keeping tabs on the trail, and scanning the woods on either side for a possible glimpse of bumpus, that neither of them had once bothered about looking at the heavens. hence a great surprise awaited them. "wow! did you ever see blacker clouds?" exclaimed giraffe, apparently deeply impressed by what he had discovered. "looks like we might be in for a big storm," remarked step hen uneasily, for he never felt as brave as he might when the elements were battling with one another; but in order to disguise his timidity he added: "but then, as we ain't sugar or salt, i guess we won't melt." as they hurried along through the timber, still following the plain trail left by the lost scout, it might have been noticed that allan and thad really looked more serious than the other pair. and there was a good reason for it, too. chapter xii. the swoop of the storm. "whoo! she's coming right along, all right." step hen volunteered this statement, when the first rumble of thunder was borne to their ears from the direction whence the storm was advancing. "hear that," added giraffe, and then he went on: "i say, thad, don't you think we'd better let up on this trail business, and hunt for a place where we might sit out the storm?" "i'd just come to that conclusion myself," replied the other. "and seems to me we hadn't ought to lose any too much valuable time in doing that," remarked step hen, starting a little when there came a flash of lightning, and later on another deep growl of thunder. "still three miles away; i counted between the flash and the thunder," announced giraffe. "huh! three miles ain't a song when the old wind gets to blowing," declared step hen. "notice that it's died out altogether now, fellers?" "and getting pretty dark, too," giraffe added. "looks to me like we might be in for a little cyclone. wonder if they ever have 'em up here, like they do in kansas." "cyclone!" exclaimed step hen, "oh! my stars! and here we are without even a cyclone cellar." "we'll try and find one," said thad, encouragingly, for he had been keeping his eyes around him a long time back, noting the formation of the ground, and drawing his own conclusions. they were no longer walking steadily on. thad had increased his pace to a run, and his comrades kept at his side, as though determined not to be left in the lurch. the sounds from the rear had gradually increased in volume. the thunder was louder, and more ominous, as each dazzling flash of lightning made the timber around them stand out most distinctly; although after it had passed, the semi-gloom seemed more appalling than ever. and that other threatening sound, could it be the wind playing havoc with the tall trees? thad had from time to time noticed that they came upon a windrow of fallen timber, all the trees lying in one direction. this circumstance had told him once that in a great while the region at the foot of the rockies was visited by a destructive storm. might not this one prove to be such, and throw down more of these giants of the woods? thad had to bear this in mind, along with many other things. surely, if the storm proved to be so severe that trees were going to be uprooted and blown down, they wanted to be out of danger. step hen was getting more and more excited. he always felt this way, even at home, when the air was charged with electricity. many a time he could remember walking up and down a room, like a tiger in its cage, while the elements were holding high carnival without. and while he believed that the scoutmaster would do all that lay in his power to get himself and comrades into some sort of shelter before the threatening storm broke over their heads, step hen saw no reason why he should not assist, as far as he could. so he kept those sharp eyes of his on the constant watch, as he ran along at the side of the pace-maker. suddenly step hen gave a triumphant shout. "oh! look! look! here's a good place for us to crawl in," and he pointed to one side as he spoke. there, as another bright flash lighted up the gloomy forest, thad saw an enormous tree, easily the king of them all. doubtless it out topped all its comrades, rearing its lofty head far above the best of them. and yet old age had started in to demolish the monarch of the woods, beginning at the butt instead of the top. the giant tree was hollow. there yawned an aperture, surely large enough to hold the four scouts easily, if they chose to huddle together. "and the hole is pretty well away from the track of the storm, so the rain ain't agoin' to beat in on us," step hen went on. "do we crawl in, thad?" asked giraffe, showing by his manner that he was only too willing to comply, if the scoutmaster said the word. but thad and allan exchanged a look, and each shook his head. "no tree for mine in a storm like this, come on boys;" called out the patrol leader, once more starting on a run. step hen hesitated. it even seemed as though the spirit of finding safety was tempting him to hold back. if he thought giraffe would back him up, step hen might possibly have declined to leave the big hollow tree that looked so inviting to him. but giraffe, either more submissive to authority just then, or else not quite so frightened by the crash of the approaching storm, was already hurrying after the leader. and so step hen went on, although grumblingly. "why couldn't we use that nice, old hiding-place, thad?" he called out; for the thunder, together with the roar of the wind, and the rain, in their rear, made so much racket, that talking in ordinary tones was impossible. "that tree might go down with a crash in the gale," was what thad said over his shoulder, as he ran. "well, p'raps that's so," admitted step hen. "and worse than that, it was liable to be struck by lightning," added the young scoutmaster. "nearly always picks out the tallest tree, or one standing alone. you never want to get under a tree in a thunderstorm, remember that, step hen. better lie down flat on the ground, and take your soaking." and even though the advice was shouted at him under such peculiar conditions, step hen was apt to remember it. indeed, those very conditions served to impress it indelibly on his mind. he would never again hear the crash of thunder, and see the vivid flash of lightning without remembering what thad had said. and every boy should do the same; for what does a wetting amount to, beside the peril of sudden death? every day during the summer there can be found brief accounts of men or boys killed by lightning, because they took refuge under a tree, when a storm interrupted their work in the harvest field. during an ordinary shower a tree may be an acceptable shelter, but never when the air is sur-charged with electricity; since it serves as a conductor to draw the lightning. "but what are we agoin' to do?" it was giraffe who broke out with this appeal, shortly after they left the neighborhood of the hollow tree that had so tempted step hen. up to this point the tall scout had been blindly following thad's lead. the quality of obedience was plainly well developed in giraffe. but now his curiosity seemed to get the better of these other traits in his character. although he did not come from missouri, and in fact had never seen the sacred soil of that grand state, still giraffe "wanted to know." nor did thad seem to take it amiss in a comrade asking such a natural question, under the circumstances. he was always willing to volunteer information. "got an idea we ought to find some ledges on the other side of this little rocky knob hill on the left," he called out. "oh," said step hen. that was the extent of his remarks, and for several reasons. in the first place he had considerable confidence in thad's sagacity, for he had seen it successfully tried under many conditions; and what the other suggested appealed to step hen as reasonable. then again, he was short of breath, and needed all he possessed in order to keep running along with the others. step hen and giraffe kept pretty well up in the van. now and then, when a particularly fearful flash came they would turn part way around, as if the fascination of that on-coming tempest were too much for them. and sometimes either one would give utterance to an excited whoop when the timber was lighted up by an unusually dazzling flash, though the cry was sure to be immediately deadened by the reverberating thunder. they also noticed with some degree of satisfaction, that they were even then rounding the low rocky elevation. unless thad had made a sad mistake in his judgment, they should know the facts before another minute passed. but so rapidly was the storm coming along now, that apparently they would have none too generous an allowance of time. with the rush of the wind another sound began to be heard that was quite disconcerting. this was a frequent crash, such as even giraffe and step hen knew must accompany the fall of trees. they were glad on this account, if for no other, that thad had led them by degrees out of the big timber, so that they now skirted the base of the singular little rocky elevation that was almost devoid of trees. the thought of being in constant danger of having one of those giants topple over upon their heads, was far from pleasant. between the flashes it had become oppressively dark, so much so that the boys had to be more careful where they set their feet. but with all that turmoil of shrieking winds, crash of falling trees, and roar of thunder, chasing along in their rear, and rapidly overtaking them, it was little wonder that at times they made mistakes in where they stepped. and presently, what thad had been fearing came to pass, when step hen shouted out at the top of his voice: "hold up, thad, giraffe's taken a tumble; and i reckon he's some hurt!" chapter xiii. the bolt of lightning. in the midst of such a confusion of dreadful sounds, and knowing that in another minute or so they would be overtaken by the storm, it was little wonder that thad's heart seemed to feel a cold clutch when step hen burst out with that announcement. what if giraffe had broken a leg in taking this tumble? he was that tall, and possessed such "spindle legs," as the boys always called them, that they often joked him on the probability of his cracking a bone when he slid to second base. and it was in dreadful fear, then, that the scoutmaster halted, to turn hastily around. to his satisfaction he saw that giraffe, helped by step hen, was already scrambling to his feet, although limping some. "all right, giraffe?" called out thad. "on deck; go ahead!" came the cheery reply. and shutting his teeth hard together, giraffe managed to once more start on a run after his chief, though his bruised leg must have hurt him considerably. they were now turning the side of the rocky elevation. and just as thad had said, it seemed to be made up of little ledges, one above the other. this was not a mere guess on thad's part, for he had noticed the same peculiar formation in connection with several other outcroppings they had passed, these being off-shoots of the foothills at the base of the rocky mountains. and so, again did that policy of observation, "noticing things" promise to prove of great assistance to the fugitive scouts when chased by the storm. it often does, and the boy who keeps his eyes about him under any and all circumstances, is the one who reaps the profit. there is never an emergency arises but he is ready with some remedy to meet it. when they saw these friendly ledges the other boys realized that for the time being their troubles were about at an end. there would be plenty of chances for them to find shelter here. thad did not accept of the very first refuge that offered, because he knew there was still a little more time at their disposal, and he had an idea they would presently come upon a ledge capable of covering them all. it turned out just as he figured. when the four crept under the outcropping shelf of rock, they found that they had no longer any need to fear the violence of the gale. the lightning could not well reach them here, the wind was powerless to do them any harm; there were no threatening trees to topple over upon their heads; and as for the rain, it would sweep past, and leave them perfectly dry. no wonder then, that step hen, in the sudden change of his feelings from dark despair to complete satisfaction, gave vent to a scout whoop; while giraffe, equally pleased, uttered several fox barks, that being the distinguishing signal of the patrol, by which members would recognize each other if approaching in the dark. "this is something like!" cried step hen, in between the thunder claps. "as comfy as if we were at home," added giraffe, who was sitting there, gingerly rubbing his bruised shin. a tremendous crash made further talk just then out of the question. and it seemed as though that thunder clap might have been the signal that the stage was all set, and the war of the elements could begin. the wind started in with a furious rush that snapped off several trees not far away from where the four scouts huddled under their shelter. these came crashing down, as though loudly protesting against their untimely fate. but the sound of their fall was really swallowed up in all the other mad noises that marked the first rush of the summer storm. how the wind did whistle through the tops of the trees, that bent before its fury, together with the downpour of rain. the ones that could prove most humble, and bow their proud heads, best, were those that came out of the turmoil with the least damage. the trees could adapt themselves to circumstances, the scouts saw; and surely there was another lesson for them all in that. after a furious rush, the storm slackened up a little, as though gathering force for a fresh outburst, perhaps more strenuous than before. but this little breathing spell afforded the boys a chance to exchange a few remarks, since it is at all times a difficult task to keep their tongues from wagging. "that was a swift one, all right!" giraffe burst out with. "did you ever hear such thunder?" said allan. "and the lightning--oh! my stars! it just made me blink, and shiver every time it flashed," declared step hen. "well, the worst is yet to come!" announced thad, seriously. "he's joking," cried out step hen. "no, i'm not," the scoutmaster went on. "i've always noticed that when a storm lets up like this, it generally hits harder the next spell. and you'll find out, if you wait a minute, for it's coming again." "but we're all right here, ain't we?" asked giraffe. "sure," replied the other, "unless it turns around." "turns around!" ejaculated step hen. "d'ye mean to say that old wind could take a kink in itself, and come back on us?" "it often happens during a storm. in the beginning it may beat down on you from the east, and finish up in the southwest. but i guess the second half of this one is coming out of the same quarter as the first." "good for that!" exclaimed step hen. "we're all so cozy under here, i'd hate to have the wind drive that wet rain in on us. there she comes, boys. whew! say, listen to that, would you? i hope that thunder don't start the rocks to rolling down this slope." "no danger of that," called out thad, for with the return of the furious bombardment talking was becoming more difficult. just as the scout leader had said it, it really did look as though this second half of the storm promised to be more violent than the one that had gone booming along its way. it seemed to the boys that some of the thunder claps would split their ear drums, so powerful did they appear. the rain again fell in torrents, too. they could hear it rushing furiously down the side of the little rocky hill. several spouts shot over the outcropping ledge that served as their roof; but despite it all, none of them so much as had a sprinkle fall upon him. never had the wisdom and sagacity of the scoutmaster been more amply proven than right then. and doubtless each of the other three boys must have been secretly saying as much, as they crouched there, gazing in speechless wonder and awe at the curious freaks shown by the zigzag forked lightning, every time it came down from the black vault above, or played tag among the piled up masses of clouds that were slowly retreating. apparently the worst was over. even then doubtless there was a break in the van of the storm clouds. furious though the tempest had been, it was to prove of short duration. but while it lasted thad reckoned that it was about as tropical in its nature as any he had ever encountered. "glad it's going!" called out giraffe. "it never will be missed," sang step hen, feeling particularly joyous over the fact that after all they had come through it all unscathed. "the rain's stopped, that's sure," giraffe asserted. "and that means the danger's over. we can go out now, when we please," step hen remarked, making a movement as if to rise. "hold on, i wouldn't do that yet," exclaimed thad. "why not?" asked step hen, but at the same time falling back. "there's a lot of dangerous electricity in the air still," said thad. "you can see that the reports after each flash are as quick and powerful as if a twelve-inch gun on a battleship were being fired. every bolt strikes just after a storm has passed. lots of people say the back action is the most dangerous time of all." "oh! all right, thad. guess i'll stay awhile longer. no need of a feller takin' more chances than he has to," and step hen settled down again; for if there was any danger of being struck by lightning, no one would find him careless. "but this is the end, ain't it, thad?" asked giraffe, still rubbing at his leg. "i reckon it is," replied the patrol leader. "wonder how our fellers in camp stood the racket. hope the tents didn't get blown away," step hen remarked. "and bumpus, i reckon he'll be put to his wit's ends to know what to do at such a time as this," but thad noticed that when he said it, giraffe really betrayed an undercurrent of respect in his manner. bumpus was no longer a complete ignoramus; bumpus had raised himself wonderfully in the estimation of his chums. just then there was an unusually brilliant flash. the thunder seemed to really accompany it, showing that the bolt struck near at hand. "wow! that hit something, as sure as you live!" exclaimed giraffe. "thought i heard branches crashing down, and i reckon it must have been a tree," remarked step hen, who had given a nervous jump at the brilliant and dazzling illumination. "it _did_ shatter a tree, and over in the very place we came from, too. to tell you the truth, fellows, it wouldn't surprise me one bit if it was that same big tree that had so splendid a hollow in its butt." step hen turned very white when he heard thad say this, and a painful silence fell upon the little group of scouts under the friendly ledge. chapter xiv. step hen looks out for the provisions. some little time passed. gradually the storm was passing away in the distance, where they could still hear the constant growl and mutter of the thunder. but those near-by crashes had really ceased. as the boys were cramped, and becoming restless, thad saw no reason why they should not get out in the open again. "first, i want to look at that leg of yours, giraffe," said the scoutmaster. "aw! guess i'll manage all right," replied the other, his pride revolting at such a thing as showing the white feather. "all the same, it ought to be looked after," persisted thad. "we can't afford to take any chances of your being lamed. a stiff leg is a constant bother. and there's no need of it when i've got liniment and salve and linen in my haversack, for just such uses. here, roll up the leg of your trousers and let doc thad take a look. no nonsense, now, giraffe. it's orders." so, protesting still that it "didn't amount to a row of pins," giraffe nevertheless obeyed the injunction of the patrol leader. "there, it is quite an ugly wound, and bleeding too," declared thad. "and you might have had a heap of trouble with that same hurt, giraffe, if you didn't let me put some salve on. it's an open cut and the liniment would bite too much. besides this healing salve is better." and so thad soon had a nice bandage fastened snugly about the hurt. giraffe frankly admitted that it did feel soothed by the application, though he still had to limp more or less when he walked, naturally favoring the lame leg. "now we can go ahead again, and find old bumpus," step hen remarked, after the operation had been successfully finished. "that's the worst of it all," said allan, with a disconsolate shrug of his shoulders, and making a wry face at the same time. "worst of what?" demanded step hen. "ain't we going to pick up the trail at the place we lost it, or back where the old cat hangs?" "there isn't any trail!" allan replied. "what?" ejaculated both step hen and giraffe, amazed by his declaration, that filled them with dismay. "the rain washed it all out, you see," allan went on to explain. "but--how are we agoin' to find bumpus, then?" step hen gasped. again the maine boy shrugged his shoulders, and there was something very expressive about the movement. "ask me something easy, please? i confess i'm all up in the air. i don't know how we can find our chum, unless by an accident, later on, we came upon his fresh trail again, made after the storm. and that's supposing a good many things, you see, one of which is that he's come out of the racket safe and sound." "whew! strikes me we've got as much chance of running across him as we'd have finding a needle in a haystack," ventured giraffe. "just about as much," allan replied, looking downcast. as long as there was any trail to find, allan was not the one to give up; he would hang on tenaciously while a shred of hope remained. but with the tracks of bumpus positively washed out by the downpour from the clouds, it was useless wasting time in looking for any "signs." even thad seemed serious now. troubles were accumulating thick and fast, for the missing member of the silver fox patrol. though thus far bumpus seemed to have surmounted his trials and difficulties, he might have been caught unawares by that furious storm. and what if he had been tempted to seek shelter in a hollow tree, not having a wise scoutmaster handy, to warn against the evil of such a thing? giraffe and step hen felt very uneasy at even the thought. they left the vicinity of the ledges, and once more entered the tall timber. but the others knew that thad was indulging in no hope that they could discover any signs of the trail, or follow it, even though an occasional footprint remained. he had some other purpose in leading them backward, and they could hazard a pretty good guess as to what it might be. there were abundant signs of the storm's passage all around them. some of the more slender trees still bowed their heads in the direction where, far away in the distance, the thunder still growled and muttered. here and there the boys could see one that had been uprooted, and either thrown flat to the ground, or else received in the sheltering embrace of some neighbor, that held it in a half reclining attitude. and presently giraffe gave vent to a loud cry. "it _did_ strike step hen's tree!" he exclaimed. "where is it? i don't see the same;" demanded step hen. "look again. rub your eyes, and wake up! don't you glimpse that pile of branches over there, scattered in every direction?" asked giraffe. "sure i do," admitted the other, "but how d'ye know now that wreckage came from my tree?" "why, that's easy," replied giraffe. "notice that shattered trunk partly standing yet? well, step this way and you can see where part, only part, mind you, step hen, is left of that hiding-place you wanted to crawl in." "oh! my stars!" ejaculated the other scout, when his staring eyes told him that what his comrade said was the awful truth. it had been the luckiest escape those four boys would ever know. they felt a great awe steal over them, accompanied by a sensation of thanksgiving, as they stood there looking at the ruin of that once proud king of the woods. "none of us would ever know what hit us, i guess," said step hen, finally. "and i reckon i've learned my lesson all right," added the tall scout. "just as thad said, what's a ducking, when you think of taking chances with a thing like this? i am for a wetting down, every time, after this." "but what had we better do--head back for camp, and give our poor old chum bumpus up for good?" asked step hen, dejectedly. "not just yet," the scoutmaster replied. "we've got some grub still," suggested giraffe, "and can make fires all right, no matter how wet the wood got." "yes, we can stay out for another day or two," said thad, "and longer than that, if we think there's any chance of finding him; because we could knock over some game at the worst." "but what's the programme?" persisted giraffe. "are we going to lay out some sort of plan, and then follow it up; or just go meanderin' around, every-which-way, trusting to sheer luck?" "we'll try and figure on what bumpus was most likely to do," said thad, "and then pattern our plan after that. and later on, you know, we could give a shout once in a while. if he was near enough to us he might hear us that way." "you're right, thad, and it's a good scheme," declared giraffe. "a dandy one," added step hen. "and if ever bumpus hears me ashoutin' he'll know who 'tis, all right." "i should say, yes," giraffe observed, with such a meaning look that the other took umbrage at once, and flamed out with: "'tain't any more like the caw of a crow than your squawk is, giraffe, and you know it, even if you used to say so. that's because you was envious because, outside of bumpus himself, i could sing better'n any other scout in the whole troop." giraffe made no answer to this taunt. he only looked appealing toward thad, as much as to say that he was not to blame for this flare-up. they walked on for a while, although the going was not so very pleasant, owing to the fact that the bushes were all so wet, they had to avoid contact with them. allan and thad conferred as they went, and apparently must have laid out their plans, for the others presently became aware of the fact that they seemed to be moving ahead in something like a direct line. although they had thus far met with no great success, step hen and giraffe still felt considerable confidence in their leaders. thad and allan seemed so able to cope with anything and everything that came along, it was no wonder the others had begun to believe they could accomplish the impossible. but when the afternoon waned, and another night stared them in the face, they had to temporarily forget about bumpus, and consider their own condition. a fire would certainly be needed, for everything around them was still wet; and as the droppings from the trees had partly soaked their garments, thad thought they must dry out. but a piece of luck came their way about this time that was as welcome as it was unexpected. step hen happened to be out on the left flank, and suddenly the others heard the report of his rifle in that quarter. as they hastily turned that way, it was to see step hen dancing madly up and down. "i got it! i got it!" he was shouting, clawing at his little repeating rifle in the endeavor to work the pump action, and render it serviceable again. "got what?" demanded giraffe, running up. "a deer!" replied the other. "yes, you have. tell us where?" asked the tall scout, incredulously. "over back of them bushes. it was just going to jump when i let go. guess it dropped in its tracks!" panted step hen. giraffe gave a mocking laugh. "we'll soon see if you put a flim-flam bullet into an old stump," he remarked, derisively, limping forward: and immediately shouting: "well, of all the world, if he didn't get the nicest little buck you ever saw; and shot straight through the heart. no wonder he went down ker-flop. step hen, you're going some. i'll have to look out, or else you'll be crowding at my heels." "beat that snapshot if you can, giraffe," said the other, proudly looking down at his quarry. chapter xv. through the big timber again. that night the boys feasted. after being without fresh meat for some little time now, that venison certainly did taste prime. and no doubt it was doubly sweet to step hen, who had made the best shot of his life when he brought the game down. at least they need no longer think of being compelled to return to the camp near the foot of the noisy rapids, on account of a lack of food. they could go a number of days, subsisting on the new supply that had stocked up their almost exhausted larder so handsomely. but there was a weight resting on all of them. they talked some, but most of the time after supper they sat there, looking into the comfortable blaze, and busy with their thoughts. what these were, as a rule, might be gathered from a remark made by step hen. "it was a good supper, all right, and that deer meat went just prime. only wish _he's_ got as good to-night." and no one asked him who he meant. no doubt every one of the four around the fire had bumpus in mind right then and there. "and we're going to keep this fire burning through the live-long night, too," said thad, later on, when there was some talk of going to sleep. "regardless of hank and pierre, eh?" asked giraffe, his eyes brightening; for he never liked to see a camp-fire go out; it was always as solemn a ceremony in his mind as the passing of a dear friend would be. "oh! like as not they're miles and miles away from here," thad went on to say. "and anyhow, one of us at a time will be on guard all night. if he hears a shot or a distant shout be sure to call me up, whoever he may be." and that, then, was the programme laid down. they would do everything in their power to attract the attention of the wandering bumpus, in case he happened to be anywhere in the neighborhood. but it was all of no avail. doubtless one or the other of the scouts, when standing his turn as sentry, may have fancied he heard far-away hails, because the wish was father to the thought; but upon listening, to make doubly sure before arousing the others, it had invariably turned out that the sound was an owl calling to his mate in the depth of the big timber, or the strange cry of the night hawk abroad seeking food. but all the live-long night that watch-fire continued to burn, although without any result. the boys went about their duties in the morning, a little crestfallen; and yet they had no reason to reproach themselves, having done everything in their power to win success. as they ate breakfast they tried to lay out the day's campaign. enough of the fresh venison was to be carried along to provide several meals. and as they went, they meant to let out a few shouts at intervals. of course they knew that, just as one of them, giraffe, had said before, it was about as satisfactory as searching for a needle in a haystack. but it was the best they could do. and boys as a rule, are very prone to put considerable confidence in what they call "luck." after the violent storm there was one good result, at least; the air was as sweet and pure and invigorating as any of them could wish. indeed, thad, as he glanced around and above him, when they stopped once that morning to rest, thought he had never seen a lovelier picture. and only for this weight resting so heavily upon his soul, in connection with the fate of the missing tenderfoot, he could have enjoyed it immensely. the sky was the bluest of the blue, with here and there a fleecy white cloud floating across it. away up could be seen a pair of eagles sailing in immense circles, and able to look directly into the face of the sun. lower down a number of other large birds were floating around, and it looked as though they might be centering over a certain spot. thad recognized them as buzzards, those scavengers of the wilds that are protected by law in most sections of the country, because of their usefulness in disposing of carrion that might otherwise breed an epidemic of disease. on one side glimpses could occasionally be had of the lofty mountains, to explore which had been one of the excuses the scouts had for making such a long journey. apparently the other boys were also looking around them, for presently step hen, pointing with his finger, said: "what are those birds away up there, thad?" "the ones up in the clouds, you mean, i suppose?" asked the other. "yes," replied step hen. "that is the majestic eagle, my son," said giraffe, pompously. "majestic humbug," laughed allan. "but they represent the american nation," objected giraffe, "every time the papers get talkin' about trouble with foreign nations they say 'now listen to the eagle scream' don't they?" "oh! it can scream, all right, and fight right hard, i admit, when it has to," allan went on to say, "but all this talk about the eagle being such a _noble_ bird makes me weary. if you'd watched him as often as i have, sitting lazily on the limb of a dead tree, and waiting till some poor, industrious fish hawk makes a haul, so he could rob him, you wouldn't have quite so much respect for the magnificent bird as you do now." "huh! p'raps not," grunted giraffe, looking crestfallen. "honest to goodness now, i always did think the old feller couldn't live up to his reputation. guess america had ought to hunt up another emblem besides the eagle." "but say, them others ain't eagles, i know," spoke up step hen. "no, they are the despised buzzard, that everybody shuns, yet no one kills, for he'd be far worse to eat than crow," said thad. "and yet a ten times more useful bird than the eagle, which lives upon its ill-gotten reputation, and as i said before, the labor of the osprey, or fish hawk," allan went on to remark. "but see 'em circle around, would you, thad," step hen kept on. "they generally do that, don't they, when they've discovered something worth while?" step hen did not wholly voice the terrible fear that had suddenly gripped his heart in a sickening clutch. there was no need, for every one of the other scouts had a spasm along the same lines. they looked at each other rather guiltily. an undefined fear was written large upon each paling countenance. thad, however, was the first to recover. "you gave me an uneasy minute with the suggestion your words conjured up, step hen," he said, firmly; "but i just can't force myself to believe there's anything to it." "but, thad----" "just hold on, step hen," the patrol leader went on to remark, "i understand what you mean, and of course we'll head that way, to make sure it's a deer, or something like that." none of them cared to pursue the matter any further, as they walked along, keeping one eye aloft to note the position of the buzzards that sailed around and around, constantly dropping lower, and with the other taking stock of their surroundings. thad smiled after a while, but he did not take the trouble to communicate what was in his mind to the others. "they'll know soon enough," he was saying to himself, "let them find it out for themselves." allan was the first to make a discovery. he threw a quick, knowing look in the direction of the scoutmaster, who answered with a nod and a smile. pretty soon giraffe began to smell a rat. "well, i declare," he remarked, "seems like i've set eyes before on that there queer old tree with the big hump on its trunk. can't be possible there could be another just like that anywhere this side the rockies." no one saying anything, giraffe went on to remark: "yes sir, it's the same identical tree, i'd take my affidavy on that. see here's where i sliced off a bit of the bark with my hatchet, as we went along. now, ain't that funny, we've made a grand circle ourselves, just like we thought he'd _do_; and crossed our own trail right here." "have you any idea where this tree is, giraffe?" asked thad, meaning to test the memory of the observing scout. "let's see, when was it i noticed the same?" and giraffe frowned with the effort to whip his memory. "oh! yes, sure, i recollect it all now. why, you see thad, it was just after we'd left that place where bumpus had hung up that dead cat." "wow! there it hangs right now; and yes, as sure as you live, the wind brings us a whiff of it, too!" cried step hen. "say, thad, was _this_ what the buzzards scented far off, and gathered here to make their dinner off?" "just what it was, and they're welcome, for all of me," replied the patrol leader; evidently greatly relieved over something. "but come on, boys, we're going to start on a new track from here, one we haven't been over yet. i'm in hopes we may have the great good luck to learn something about our chum, before we make another grand circuit. my first guess didn't pan out very well." none of them were sorry to leave the neighborhood of the dead cat, which bumpus had hung up in the tree, possibly in the hope of sometime claiming its well-riddled pelt. an hour later they were making their way through a particularly bad stretch of woodland, where the brush was dense in places, and many trees, fallen years upon years ago, forced the scouts to either clamber over, or go around. step hen was just in the act of jumping over the half-rotten trunk of one of these fallen forest monarchs, when the rest heard him give utterance to a loud whoop, immediately followed by words that struck a chill to their very hearts: "thad! allan! come here, quick! i'm snake bit, and i reckon it was a big rattler that grabbed me by the leg!" chapter xvi. the snake bite. "what can we do, thad?" exclaimed giraffe, as with the others he hurried over in the direction of step hen's voice. step hen had not kept exactly with his mates; had he done so the trouble that was now upon him might not have happened. encouraged by his success of the preceding day, when he had secured a fine deer just because he hung upon the flank of the advancing party, step hen had wandered far afield again, though careful, after a fashion, never to lose sight of the rest. it was easy to understand, under the circumstances, how the ambitious nimrod kept his eyes about him, looking for a possible deer to jump up and bound away. he had not been thinking of snakes at all, when so recklessly jumping over the dead tree; and this is always a more or less dangerous thing to do in a country where poisonous snakes may be found. they came upon the frightened step hen. he was down on one knee, and with hands that trembled so he could hardly work, was trying to roll up one of his trousers' legs, after having kicked off his canvas legging. thad was instantly at his side. "let me do that for you, step hen," he exclaimed, as he dropped his gun, and applied himself to the task, to cry out a few seconds later, "i don't see any marks where his fangs went in. where was it he struck you? oh! that red spot? wait a minute." thad, to the astonishment of the injured lad, whipped out a small magnifying glass, with which he was in the habit of examining beetles, and all sorts of things of a like nature, in whose habits he, as an amateur naturalist, chanced to be interested. this he applied to the red mark, examining the same closely. "i can see two sets of little punctures, one above and one below," he announced presently. "that's them!" exclaimed step hen. "oh! he jumped right at me, and bit me, all right! i was that scared i could hardly move. i hate snakes, you know, the worst kind. thad, tell me, did anybody ever get bit by a rattler, and live? my goodness! will you have to cut my leg off, to save me? oh! i think i'd rather die right now, than have to hop around on one leg all my life. do something for me, thad; what are you grinning at, giraffe? this is a mighty serious matter, i tell you." "keep still!" said thad, sternly. then he got down, and sucked at the tiny wounds with all his might, having first made sure that he had no cut, or abrasion of the skin about his lips, or the interior of his mouth. having expectorated freely thad got up again. step hen followed his every movement with a troubled look on his face. "think you got all the old poison out, thad? oh! let somebody else have a try, won't you? can't afford to take any chances about this. think what an awful blow it'd be to my folks if i skipped off right here and now. ketch me a jumpin' over a log again without first lookin'. where's my gun? did anybody see my gun? goodness knows where it went. i bet that snake went and carried--oh! thank you, allan, there's the little dandy, all right. but thad, don't it look like my leg's beginning to swell? i just seem to feel it twitching all the time. is that the poison going through my system? oh! i just knew some day a measly old snake'd get me. how i hate 'em." "keep still!" commanded the scoutmaster, sternly. "oh! all right, thad. i'm sure you'll do the right thing by me; but it's just awful to know you've been bitten by a rattlesnake." "in the first place, i don't believe it _was_ a rattlesnake!" said thad, positively. "but it was an _awful_ big, wicked looking snake, thad; and if you'd seen the way it jumped at me----" began step hen. "that's one of the reasons i had for saying what i did," thad went on, "a rattlesnake never attacks any one, or any enemy. it always throws itself into a coil, and with head erect, and tail rattling a warning 'don't tread on me,' waits to be attacked. this rule has no exception. a rattlesnake is almost helpless out of coil, and the very first thing he does is to curl up. he may lunge so hard at something as to throw himself half way out of coil; but as quick as a flash he's back again, for he's afraid something will get him." "oh! is that so, thad?" exclaimed step hen, still keeping one anxious eye on his bare leg, as though he half expected to see it begin to puff up visibly before his very eyes. "was this snake coiled when you first saw it?" demanded thad. "n--no." "what was it doing then, step hen?" "i reckon it was crawlin' along--yes, i know it was, because i remember how i got a fierce jolt when i was just going over the log, to see it with its old head raised, and showing its teeth." "and then it jumped at you?" thad continued. "and tried to wrap around me, after it bit me through my legging; but i guess i kicked some, because it dropped off, and ran away." thad smiled. "i'm sure now it was not a rattler," he said. "no doubt it may have been a big black snake. they're as fierce as they make them, and can whip a sluggish rattler every time, but they're not poisonous at all, step hen." "oh! i hope then it was a black snake!" exclaimed the other scout, with a sigh. "another thing," said thad, wishing to make it conclusive, so step hen might not keep on worrying about the affair. "a black snake bites, but as a general rule a rattlesnake opens his jaws until they stand almost perpendicular, so that he can lay bare his poison fangs. he sinks these two hollow teeth into his enemy, with a furious blow, and at the same time injects the poison. there is no known _sure_ remedy for a rattlesnake's poison. but this snake tried to bite you. there are the faint marks of teeth belonging to both the upper and the lower jaw. it's all right, step hen; you're in no danger. the poison would have begun to work before now, if it was there." "but you won't take any chances, will you, thad?" asked the other. "i didn't. i sucked just as hard as if i thought you were going to swell up, and have your heart affected," said thad. "but to make sure, thad, suppose you paint my leg with some of that purple stuff you carry with you," pleaded step hen. "oh! you mean that solution of permanganate of potash," replied the other. "yes, that's the stuff." "but," objected thad, "it's meant for scratches from the claws of carnivorous animals, so as to neutralize the virus that is apt to get in the blood, and give blood poisoning." "well, here's some poison it can get in its little work on," step hen insisted. "but it will hurt like sixty." "let her hurt. the more the better; because then i know it'll be doing its work. come, let's have it, thad." knowing how persistent step hen could be when he wanted to, the scoutmaster felt that he must comply with his request. it could do no harm, and at least would make the boy feel easier in his mind. "gee! don't it darken things up some," step hen declared, a little later, when the application had been made. "it stains a whole lot," admitted thad. "huh! i've got one thing to be thankful for anyhow," step hen remarked. "lots of 'em, my boy," laughed thad. "but what do you mean in particular?" "i'm glad he pinched me on the leg," the other went on, whimsically. "think if he'd jumped up and dented my nose, and you had to paint it like that! my stars! mebbe i wouldn't be a sight though." "you'd sure never a been able to go back to cranford," declared giraffe, who had been an interested observer of all that went on. "because they'd all say you'd taken to drink." "huh! nothing funny about that, because i've been drinking all my life," the other answered back. "does it hurt?" asked thad. "well, i guess, yes," replied step hen, making a grimace; "but then, i want it to just gouge me. go it, you little gripper; hope you counteract every drop of poison. that's it, hit me up again. whew! that's going some." "now there are two of us," remarked giraffe, as he vied with step hen in seeing which could limp the most. "it's your right leg, and my left one; so we've still got a decent pair between us." "but they ain't mates, by a long shot," declared step hen. joking in this way they followed after thad and allan. but as the morning was nearly done it was decided to make camp long enough to have a bite. again they talked of bumpus and his affairs, as they sat around the fire, and ate. step hen hoped that the fat scout would not have the misfortune to run across a "fighting snake," such as the one that had thrown him into such a panic. "because, you see," he went on, "not knowing any better, the poor feller would think it was a rattler, instead of just a plain, every day black snake. and it w'd give him no end of worry, because he couldn't suck the wound himself, being no contortionist like davy jones; and he wouldn't have thad and his little potash bottle handy." "yes, that's so," remarked giraffe, "there are some people who don't know the difference between a poisonous rattler, with its square head, and a long twisting black snake." step hen turned a little red in the face, and laughed; but did not venture to take up giraffe's dare, so that for once an argument that might have waxed fierce was avoided. presently they were moving on again. acting on the suggestion of thad the four scouts had formed a sort of fan formation, being within easy seeing and hearing distance of each other, but covering quite a wide stretch of ground. allan and thad had given it as their opinion, although they admitted they could not be absolutely sure, that although they must certainly have covered fully thirty miles in their wanderings, they were not more than ten from the camp by the rapids. it fell to giraffe to make a discovery this time. along about two o'clock he raised his voice and gave an excited call. this being the signal to assemble, the other scouts hurried toward giraffe, anxious to learn what he had to communicate. chapter xvii. more trouble ahead. "what have you?" asked step hen, who, strange to say, in spite of his lame leg, arrived just a little in advance of the other two. giraffe was standing there, twisting that long neck of his this way and that. he declined to say anything until thad had arrived on the scene. then, with an expressive pose, he pointed to the ground near his feet. "what d'ye call that, eh? tell me i ain't got the eye of an eagle? somebody else might have gone stumping along, and never seen it. but you can ketch a weasel asleep as easy as you can fool me." "it's a trail, all right," said thad. "say _his_ trail," persisted giraffe. "bumpus did make it, that's certain," allan broke in with. "and _after_ the storm, too?" "no question about that, because the rain hasn't washed the marks at all," was the joyous declaration of allan. "see?" cried giraffe. if he had been wearing a vest. step hen really believed the proud lengthy scout would have thrust his thumbs into the arm holes and assumed a pose, as though about to have his picture taken as a serious rival to cooper's "leatherstocking," the greatest of trail finders. "what luck!" step hen broke out with. "luck nothing," flashed back giraffe, refusing to be cheated out of any of his honors. "it's the reward of patient, plodding work, and using eyes and brain right along. now, if i'd been satisfied to limp along, looking up at the sky, and all around, but never once on the ground, like some people i know do, d'ye suppose i'd ever run across this trail? not much. give old eagle eye his due, step hen." "yes, he deserves it," said thad, "because this is a most important find. it places us on top once more." "because now we've got something to work on," added allan. "was this track made this morning?" asked step hen. allan shook his head. "no," he replied, "i don't think so." "but why shouldn't it be?" continued the other scout, bound to know. "why, you can see that the ground was still quite wet when he passed along here. that wouldn't have been the case this morning, for in twelve hours or more it must have dried out pretty well," allan explained. "that's so; i never thought of such an easy explanation," step hen admitted. "oh! there's a heap of things about this business we don't know," said giraffe; "but it all sounds so mighty interesting i'm bound to learn right along." they were following the new trail while exchanging remarks along this line. "one good thing about it," thad went on to say, "we now know bumpus must have come through the storm all right." "however did he do it?" murmured giraffe, perplexed because the tenderfoot was proving such a wonder. "three to one he found a hollow tree and crawled in," grumbled step hen. "with the luck he's got, why of course lightning never struck there; while with me it was just sure to." "well," remarked thad, "between you and me i don't believe bumpus would do that, because we were talking of lightning only the other day. he had an uncle who was killed that way when a tree was struck; and bumpus said nobody would ever get him to take such chances. i remember his asking me if it would be all right to crawl in a hollow log that lay flat on the ground, and i told him yes. so if he was able to find a log big enough to hold him, i guess that's what he did." giraffe gave a whistle. there was a little trace of envy in his manner, for giraffe was a boy, and it did seem to him bumpus was developing along the lines of a scout altogether too fast. "i see your finish as patrol leader, thad," he remarked. "that bumpus has just waked up, and there's no telling what he'll do. i expect we'll all be kowtowing to him yet, like he was a real chinese mandarin." "glad of it," laughed thad. "and it would tickle me a lot, i tell you, if a few more scouts would take a notion to wake up." "well," returned giraffe, "they may, yet. i know two that are digging knuckles into their eyes right at this minute, and stretchin' and yawnin' like they just meant to stir out of their dope sleep; eh, step hen?" "that's so, giraffe! bumpus has set us the pace, i tell you," came the reply. "what do you make of the trail, allan?" the scoutmaster asked. "about this," replied the tracker. "bumpus was leg-weary about this time. plenty to show it. and i wouldn't be surprised if we came on his camp before long. i've seen where he stepped out of his way, looking for dry wood, and then went on again, as if not satisfied." "hurrah for bumpus! he's our pard;" exclaimed step hen, glad to even bask in the reflected light of so much glory. "i wonder, now," giraffe remarked, his thoughts naturally turning in the one direction, "was he able to make a fire? lots of fellers that like to call themselves scouts wouldn't know how, when every stick of wood was soaking wet after such a rain." "oh! they ain't all such fire cranks as you've always been, giraffe," ventured step hen. "and i say it's good for the country they ain't. i reckon the whole wood supply of the united states would have been used up by now if the rest of the scouts had their minds set like you." "but wait and see," said thad. "i've got a notion that bumpus is going to surprise some of us a lot more. fact is, i believe he's just had his mind set on a hike like this for some time, because he's been asking dozens of questions of me, and setting the answers down in that little note-book of his, till he half filled it." "was one of them about makin' 'a fire after a rain?'" demanded giraffe. "just that," replied thad. "you told him how to dig out the dry heart from a stump or a log, to start his fire with, didn't you, thad?" "explained it all fully," answered the patrol leader. "oh! if that's the case i just guess he will have made a fire. it's easy, once you've been shown how," grumbled giraffe. "but you had to be told how, once, don't forget, giraffe," thad went on to say. "be generous now, and remember that bumpus has had his outdoor education sadly neglected. i'm glad he's showing new life, and i hope it will keep right along. i believe it will. that's the beauty of this scout business--once a boy gets a taste of these many things that call for self-reliance and thought, he keeps on wanting to know more. his appetite becomes enormous; but the food supply in the shape of information really has no limit, you understand." "i'm going in for it with all my heart and soul, thad," asserted giraffe, more seriously than the patrol leader had known him to be for a long time. "me too," echoed step hen. "it's a good thing to know how to save a feller's life if he gets near drowned, cuts his foot with an axe, gets shot by accident, or else has the hard luck to run up against a mean rattler." "and you can count on me to help you all i'm able to," said thad. "there are a lot of things i don't know, myself. allan, here, is teaching me a heap about following a trail, and i'm enjoying it more than i can explain. nothing like the practical experience, after all. the book-taught scout is all very well, but he has to change a lot of his ideas when he comes to see the same things really and truly done. and some of them are so different from his notion that he can hardly recognize 'em. what is it, allan?" this last was directed toward the tracker, who had suddenly shown evidences of excitement. they saw him bend down and more closely examine the ground in front. then he whistled, and turned a face toward his chums on which they could plainly read new anxiety. "it beats anything how they could have just happened to cross the trail of bumpus," he observed. thad instantly jumped at conclusions. "meaning our old acquaintances. hank dodge and pierre laporte?" he said. "here are their footprints as plain as anything," continued allan. "look for yourselves, because all of you know what they were like. here's where hank rested the butt of his gun on the ground, while he talked it over with pierre; and yes, he even emptied his pipe right at this place, knocking it on his shoe, because you can see some half-burned tobacco in this footprint." "do you think they knew who bumpus was?" asked thad. "they could guess, easy enough, after remembering what we said about our having a tenderfoot chum wandering around here by himself," was the prompt reply of the trail finder. "but then, it wasn't any of their business," giraffe went on to say. "they might have had curiosity enough to figure out who bumpus was; but they'd never seen him, and so of course he hadn't done anything to injure them." he looked troubled, though, even while thus trying to assure himself that bumpus could not be in any peril because of these two ugly timber cruisers. "but his chums had riled them up considerably," allan went on, "and perhaps they were mean enough to think they could hit us, through bumpus." step hen ground his teeth in anger, while his eyes flashed ominously. "did they change their course right here, allan?" he asked. "just what they did," was the reply. "and followed after our chum?" step hen went on. "you can see for yourself that their prints blot his out in places," the other replied. "come on!" said step hen, shaking his gun furiously. chapter xviii. still in pursuit, with the trail growing warmer. step hen was not alone in feeling angry at this action on the part of the two unscrupulous timber cruisers. every one of the scouts experienced a degree of indignation that might easily be fanned into boyish rage. "and i don't calculate, now," said giraffe, presently, "that hank and pierre are the kind of men to step out of their way ten feet to do a good deed, 'specially toward a boy they'd never yet seen?" "well, they didn't impress me that way," declared thad. "and they haven't much of a reputation for being tenderhearted, i believe," allan added, speaking over his shoulder, for he was following the trail persistently. but then, even a novice could have kept on that trail. none of the three who made it seemed to think anything about hiding their tracks. those of bumpus in particular were plainly marked, and presently giraffe began to notice this patent fact. "there seems to be a big difference in these footprints," he said. "there certainly is," allan replied. "now, i don't mean it that way, because of course bumpus hasn't got feet anywhere near as big as those of hank and pierre. but always it's the same, and his footprints look deeper than theirs. but for all he's so fat, sure bumpus can't be heavier than either of those big broad shouldered husky men?" giraffe seemed to realize that there must be an explanation which would clear up this little mystery, and he wanted it. "that isn't what makes the difference, giraffe," the tracker went on. "you know, we decided that bumpus went along here right soon after the storm yesterday afternoon, and while the ground was still soft?" "yes, i remember, allan." "well," said allan, "hank and pierre didn't happen on the scene until this morning, and by then the ground was somewhat firm again. is that plain enough?" "i should say it was, and thank you for the explanation," giraffe answered. "it beats all what you fellers can get out of this thing. why, that alone is about as interesting a fact as anybody could think up." "then bumpus had, say twelve hours the start?" suggested step hen. "right here, yes," replied allan. "but you must remember that he was meaning to settle down for the night about this time. and when he went on this morning, perhaps they'd be only a couple of hours behind." "whew! things seem to be getting mighty interesting," remarked giraffe. "i should say they were," step hen asserted. "don't i wish davy and smithy and bob white were here." the long scout went on. "huh! there's four of us as it is, and all carryin' good guns too. we ought to be enough of a crowd to hold up that pair of cowards," declared step hen, who did not seem to have a very high opinion of hank and his mate. "we did it once, all right," remarked giraffe, with a grin, "and we c'n do it again, or my name is dennis." "but bumpus hadn't camped yet, had he?" step hen asked. "i think we're coming to where he spent last night," said allan. "i had a glimpse just then of something that looked like a dead camp-fire. yes, here it is, boys, you see." "well, he did do it, all right," muttered giraffe, as he stood there, and looked down upon the ashes of a fire. "yes," thad remarked, "and here we can see where he obtained dry timber by hacking into the heart of this stump." "oh! bumpus is the surprise of this trip, all right!" exclaimed step hen. "i'm just goin' to take off my hat to him, after what he's done." "he seems to keep us guessing, don't he?" thad remarked, looking around with a feeling akin to pride, to realize that the one who all along had been termed the real tenderfoot of the patrol, should so suddenly develop such astonishing skill in taking care of himself. "no babes in the wood about this business, let me tell you." asserted giraffe, after he had examined the way bumpus had made his fire. "done things pretty near as well as an old seasoned fire builder could have made out." that was a high compliment indeed, coming from giraffe. bumpus must have felt greatly pleased, could he have heard it. perhaps his right ear burned him just about that time, for all boys know that such a thing happens only when some one is making complimentary remarks about you. "but bumpus left here this morning, of course?" said step hen; and allan went on: "he did, after passing a pretty comfortable night on that bed of hemlock boughs which he made, and which you can see there. kept his feet toward the fire, too, just like an old experienced camper, who was without a tent and blanket would do. and his going off without this last is what convinces me bumpus didn't really mean to lose himself when he started out to get his bear. he just took a lot of grub along, his hatchet, and plenty of ammunition, so as to be pretty well fixed in case he couldn't make use of his compass in finding the way back to camp." giraffe placed his hand on the dead ashes. "wet 'em down again, sure he did," he remarked. "ain't our chum just _it_ though," chuckled step hen. "he kept his fire burning all night," thad remarked, casually. "how d'ye know that?" asked step hen. "oh! the amount of ashes tells that he used a heap of wood," was the reply. "you can see he made his camp close to this fallen tree, and used his little axe in cutting up the dead branches." "bumpus deserves to be made a first-class scout," said giraffe, in genuine enthusiasm. "he's on the road there, anyhow," declared allan. "but we must be off," thad remarked. "we've had a few minutes' rest while figuring out all these things our chum has been up to. now let's put our best leg forward." "that means the right one," said giraffe. "no, you're away off there; it's the left one," remonstrated step hen, limping more decidedly with his right leg to prove that it was not "in the running." "both of you are correct," declared thad. "it all depends on the point of view you choose to take." "and of course hank and company started out on the new trail, because i can see the marks of their brogans?" ventured giraffe. "yes," allan replied, "they looked around the camp a bit, perhaps surprised to find that even a tenderfoot scout knows how to take care of himself. then they pushed on." "how far behind bumpus?" "i should say about three hours," replied the trail master, without hesitation. "he's got that much lead, then?" giraffe asked. "close on it," allan answered. "but something may cause him to stop, and then they'd overtake him. on the whole, i'd rather guess those men would make faster time than our chum." "and be slowly but surely gaining, all the while?" suggested thad. "yes." "then we've got to get a hustle on us, that's all," giraffe asserted. "already we're away behind in the race, and just as like as not another night's going to catch us before we overhaul these parties. that'll make it bad." "we can't help it any," remarked thad, "we're doing our level best, and there's a limit, you know. we've just got to leave the rest to providence." "and bumpus' luck--don't forget that," said step hen. "he's sure got it along with him this trip," giraffe avowed, "and it's been working over time for our fat chum too. seems to me these here gents are kind of rash tryin' to meddle with a feller that has everything comin' to him like bumpus has. p'raps they'll think they have made a mistake when they tackle that walkin' wonder." both giraffe and step hen chuckled a little, as though the idea rather appealed to their boyish sense of humor. and thad could not help thinking things had come to a strange pass indeed, when these two scouts, who had lorded it over bumpus so long, on account of their superior knowledge, were ready to admit that they might yet sit at the feet of the fat chum, and take lessons in woodcraft. would wonders ever cease, thad thought? but then, he knew only too well that once a scout becomes fully enthused with zeal in the pursuit of knowledge along these lines he will not only open up new pleasures daily for himself, but surprises for his friends as well. they had been gone from the camp-fire about half an hour now. there was no trouble at all about following the trail; indeed, allan more than once declared that even if a bandage were tied over his eyes he would have been able to keep right along, using his fingers to guide him, so plainly marked were the footprints of men and boy. "hello!" said allan, suddenly, "i wonder now what started him to running?" "bumpus, you mean, don't you?" asked giraffe. "yes, he began right here. you can see how his toes press down," allan remarked. "perhaps he discovered the men behind him," suggested step hen. "no, they were still more than two hours' back," allan contrived, as he walked on hastily. "and besides, bumpus never once turned to look behind; i could tell from his track if he did. something in front must have attracted him." giraffe and step hen looked at each other. "i wonder," said the former. "'twould be just bumpus' luck if he did," the other boy exclaimed. neither of them spoke their thoughts aloud further than that. for a short time they kept moving rapidly along. and then allan held up his hand as a signal for the others to stop. "well," he said, "it happened, after all these days of tramping. bumpus came across the trail of a bear, and a big fellow too. see here, you can see his tracks, where none of the others have marred them." chapter xix. another shock. "he was a buster, just as you said, allan," giraffe remarked, uneasily, after they had examined the imprint of those feet, showing the marks of the long cruel claws. "a grizzly, i reckon?" step hen ventured. "yes. and i think he must have been hurt some, because he seemed to drag his left hind leg a little." "p'raps bumpus plugged him," giraffe suggested, just as though he were speaking of some celebrated forest ranger, accustomed to meeting up with these terrors of the rockies, rather than a fat scout who, up to recently, had been looked upon by most of his comrades as something of a joke. "no, bumpus was some distance away right here," allan continued. "there is no sign of blood, so we know from that the injury was not a fresh one. and besides, whoever heard of a full-grown grizzly running away from a dozen human enemies, after being shot and wounded, much less from a single foe, and he a boy?" "you're right, allan," commented the scoutmaster. "reckon it does look that way," giraffe admitted. there was one good trait about the tall scout--no matter how strong an opinion he might have on any subject, once convinced of the error of his thinking, and giraffe would own up to his mistake most cheerfully. "so right here," step hen broke in, "bumpus was on the run, achasin' fast after the limpin' grizzly? say, giraffe, he was in your class of cripples, because allan says it was his _left_ hind leg that was hurt." "well, i ain't got but one left leg so that makes all the difference," the tall scout hastened to announce. "i wonder--" began step hen, and then paused, as though hardly daring to frame his thoughts in words. "we're all doing that," remarked allan. "how did it end?" thad remarked, straining his eyes to look ahead. "say, wouldn't it be just great now," giraffe broke out with, "if we'd just come up with bumpus asquattin' in the crotch of a tree, all his ammunition fired away, and that old bear sittin' on his haunches below, awaitin' for him to come down?" "i'd just like to see it," said step hen, making a suggestive gesture with his gun. "i'd try to drive a few dum-dum bullets into his hulking old carcase." "but perhaps bumpus mightn't be so smart about getting up in a tree, when a wounded bear was charging him," giraffe ventured to remark. all of them had a painful recollection of that other episode, when bumpus, rashly discharged his ten-bore marlin at the monster, and would have been caught trying to climb a tree, only for the help he received from one of his comrades. "but bumpus doesn't make the same mistake twice, i notice," said thad, firmly; "and if he fired at _this_ bear, i'm pretty sure he first of all had a tree picked out that he could climb, all right." "i warrant you he did, thad," giraffe added. they were all of them only too eager to believe the best. the very thought of bumpus, after all the good work he had been doing, meeting such a dreadful fate as being torn to pieces by a bear, was something they tried to banish from their minds as incredible. nevertheless, in spite of all this outward display of confidence, they continued to cast eager glances ahead as they pushed on. giraffe about this time remembered that there were others also interested in the fate of the lone scout. "i see hank and pierre are keepin' right along?" he remarked. "yes," replied allan, thinking this was really a question. "mebbe they think a nice bear skin wouldn't be a bad article to have, even if it is the off season for furs," giraffe added. "more'n likely," step hen broke in with, "they reckon as how they'd better keep along, so as to bury what's left of our poor chum, and claim his rifle and other belongings as salvage." "let's hope then they'll meet up with the greatest disappointment of their lives," thad hastened to remark, shivering at the cruel picture the words of step hen presented to his mind. "listen!" they all came to a standstill when giraffe called out. every ear was strained in the attempt to catch a sound that might be a cry for help, or the distant report of a gun. "guess it must a been that old crow cawing himself hoarse over yonder on that tree," giraffe finally admitted. "thought it was somebody callin' us to halt, sure i did, thad." "seems like you were mistaken," was all the scoutmaster remarked, as once again the march was resumed. "p'raps he didn't overtake the old bear after all," step hen broke out with, a couple of minutes later. "well, he was following the trail, all right, when he got here," allan asserted, with a positive way that seemed convincing. "but you said at first he saw the bear, when he took to running." "i thought he did," replied the trail hunter, "but since then i've come to the conclusion i was wrong. still, you can see that he kept on, for bear, bumpus and the two men are written in the tracks as plain as print." "yes, that's so, allan. but there don't seem to be any sign of life ahead. here, what's the matter with you, old eagle eye? just look beyond, and see if you c'n discover our brave chum up a tree somewhere?" thus appealed to, and complimented rather than otherwise by the title which step hen had thrust upon him, giraffe did stretch his long neck, and scan the region ahead. "don't see him a waiving to us, up in one of those trees?" the other asked. "nixy," returned the one with the keen vision, a shade of disappointment perceptible in his voice. "i c'n see heaps of trees, and p'raps there might be a boy sittin' up in one of the same; but if he's waving to us, i don't get on to his wave. but hold on!" "oh! then you _do_ see something?" cried step hen, pulling back the hammer of his repeating rifle eagerly. "not in a tree," replied giraffe, cautiously. something in his manner, perhaps in his paling face as well, gave thad a nervous chill. as for himself, he had not discovered anything amiss; but perhaps his range of vision was more limited than that of the tall scout; or possibly he did not chance to be looking in the same direction. "where then?" asked step hen. "er--on the ground," replied the other, slowly and soberly. "is--do you think it's bumpus?" demanded step hen, also losing his color. "i don't know. there's a little bush in the way, and i can't see very well," giraffe added. "but--does it move any, giraffe?" the horrified step hen asked. "don't seem to, one bit, all the time i've been keepin' my eye on the same." "oh! my stars." step hen could not command his voice to say more. he kept staring in a general direction ahead, as though he could see what attracted the notice of the chum who had the telescopic eyes. but thad was not so easily satisfied. "show me where you mean, giraffe," he said, grimly. if there was any unpleasant duty to be performed thad brewster could be depended on to go about it without flinching. he would have made a fine soldier, because discipline was so much a part of his nature. "there, follow those three trees that run as straight a line as if some surveyor had a planted the same for range finders. d'ye see that light bunch of scrub just beyond? all right, look just to the left, and----" "i see it!" said thad, quietly. a dozen seconds of dreadful suspense followed. then step hen, who had managed to recover his lost breath, broke forth with: "is it bumpus, thad?" "i don't believe so," replied the scoutmaster, steadily, and it could easily be seen that he must have just been under a terrible strain. "what makes you say that; i'm asking for information, but all the same i'm awful glad to hear you make that remark," giraffe observed. "in the first place it doesn't seem to be the color of our chum's clothes," thad began, "and then, on the other hand, it's certainly too big to be him." "guess you hit the nail on the head there, thad," giraffe hastened to declare; "now that i look closer, i reckon it is just too big." "mebbe it's only a rock after all, or an old stump," suggested step hen. "mebbe it is," replied the tall scout, meekly, for his feelings had been so recently torn by conflicting hopes and fears, that he was in no mood for argument. "let's push forward and see," suggested allan. "trail seems to lead that way, don't it?" thad mentioned, when they had been moving along swiftly for a few minutes. "yes, and we'll soon know the worst, because, unless i'm much mistaken the _thing_ is lying just at the other side of them bushes. they're thicker here, you see, and we won't be able to tell what it's doing till after we get around the same." giraffe had a habit of talking at a lively pace when wishing to keep his heart from betraying his nervousness. it was somewhat on the principle that a boy whistles as loud as he can when passing a country graveyard. half a minute later, and in a bunch the four scouts turned a flank movement around the bushes. step hen and giraffe almost dropped with sheer astonishment, and had to actually sustain each other. no wonder, when before them they saw the motionless form of a huge bear, that had evidently been shot in a dozen places. chapter xx. finding out how bumpus did it. "well, what d'ye think of that?" giraffe demanded, as, with his comrades, he presently hurried forward to examine the dead bear. "i said bumpus could do it, didn't i?" questioned step hen. "why, with the great run of luck he's camping alongside now, that pard of ours could go into the lion and elephant country of africa, and knock over more old tuskers and yellow manes than you could shake a stick at." "but how d'ye know he did this?" asked giraffe, as a new doubt assailed him. "tell me who else could?" demanded the other. "oh! i'm not sayin' they did; don't think that," giraffe went on; "but we happen to know there are a couple of men hanging around this section of the country." "meaning hank and pierre, of course?" "yes, they're the dodgers. now, you see, they just might have come up here, found the bear holdin' bumpus up in a tree, and took a notion to knock the old mountain bear silly, just so they could look our chum over, and take all he had." step hen was unable to hazard a reply to this, and so he appealed to those who ought to be able to decide. "how about that, thad, allan?" both shook their heads in the negative. "give bumpus all the credit of downing this bear," thad remarked. "there are lots of things that go to prove it," said allan. "look here, and i'll show you. see, here's where he knelt to fire, first of all, and i want you to notice what a dandy tree for climbing bumpus picked out, just alongside." "and when he'd rammed in both charges, only to see the bear coming full tilt after him, like a house afire, bumpus swung up in the tree--is that it, allan?" and giraffe looked wise as he said this. "just what he did," allan went on to say. "i reckon he had a stout cord fixed on his gun, and could slip one arm through this, so that the marlin went up when he did, all right." "ain't he the cute one, though?" step hen murmured, in admiration. "well, you can see how the bear clawed the tree," continued allan, "but he wasn't able to get up. grizzlies are poor climbers anyway, and this fellow must have been handicapped by that injured hind leg." "and then bumpus, he opened on him, didn't he?" giraffe cried. "well, i guess that's what he did," laughed thad. "i can count _twelve_ empty shells here under the tree. two bumpus used at long range, but all the rest he must have fired point-blank, with the bear not more than five or ten feet away from the muzzle of his gun." "how d'ye tell that?" asked giraffe. "why, here, and here you can see the hair on the bear looks singed around a wound. that proves the gun was only a few feet away. and notice too, boys, nearly every shot took effect either in the breast or back of the bear. the one that finished him was this in the ear. it penetrated his brain." giraffe gave one of his whistles, and then remarked: "glory! but there must have been a hot time around here, all right. i can just imagine i see bumpus perched up in that crotch, and blazing away as fast as he could load. what a circus it was, and such great luck. why, that feller could grab the first prize in the havana lottery if he ever wanted to go down to cuba and take a chance. he can sure do anything!" "he got his bear, bless his dear old heart," laughed step hen. "yes, and just like he did with the bob-cat; only this time, he hacked off the claws from all four feet. must mean to have 'em made into a war necklace, indian fashion," observed allan. "looks some like a slaughter-house around here," giraffe said. "the bear bled from every wound. they told us a grizzly could stand any amount of lead, and now i believe it. why, at that close range, them buckshot in his gun just tore in like a great big fifty-eight slug. oh! what a sight, if davy had only been here with his snapshot box." "but i can see that hank and pierre came right along in," observed step hen. "yes, and looked around, just like we're doing now," allan remarked. "i'm some surprised that they didn't capture the skin of the bear," the other went on. "bumpus couldn't take it off, because that's one thing he hasn't learned--yet. but surely hank or pierre must be old trappers enough for that." but allan shook his head. "they looked at it, and quickly decided it wasn't worth taking," he said. "first place, bumpus had hacked all the fierce claws off, and they're the best part of a grizzly pelt, i'm told. then our chum had, as you can see, just about riddled the hide; shot holes through every which way. that's probably why they didn't bother trying to take the skin off the bear." "but--did they keep on after bumpus?" asked giraffe. "i'm sorry to say they did," admitted allan, who with his customary alertness had been looking around, and taking note of things. "that means, we will be on the move again," giraffe declared. "can't be getting away any too soon to suit me," step hen said. "the things i'm sorry about are these," remarked thad. "first, it's getting along in the afternoon now, and our chances of overtaking either the men or bumpus before darkness comes on are mighty small, i'm afraid. you see they've got quite a few hours' advantage over us." "well, why not make a torch or so, and keep moving along, even after night does set in," suggested giraffe, quickly, for his mind was always inclining toward fire in some shape or style. "now, that may not be such a bad idea at all, giraffe," thad promptly declared. "and i'm glad you mentioned it. if we're not too leg-weary after we've eaten, and rested an hour or two, we might try that scheme." "if it didn't do anything else," put in allan, "it would surely cut down the big lead they've got on us, and we might be close enough when we started at dawn again, to get bumpus with the call of the silver fox patrol." "better than that, even," said thad, "if we kept moving right along to-night who knows but what we might have the luck to glimpse a camp-fire. remember how we did that before, and thought to surprise our chum; when it turned out the other way, and we got all the surprise from hank and pierre?" "whose fire would this be, d'ye think--bumpus', or hank's?" asked giraffe. "perhaps both," was the significant reply thad made. "for unless they've changed their minds, and concluded not to meddle with a tenderfoot scout who was able to kill a full grown grizzly all by himself, i take it that before now bumpus and the timber cruisers have joined forces." "like the lion and the lamb lying down together without the least bit of trouble, because the lamb was _inside_ the lion," remarked giraffe, drily. "yes, the chances are that they've bulldozed our chum, and made him wait upon them like a slave, cook their meals for them; and perhaps they will tie him up in camp to-night, so he won't have a chance to run away." step hen fairly gnashed his teeth while drawing this agonizing mental picture of the further troubles of bumpus. and even those who had the most faith in the fat scout's newly aroused ability to think, and take care of himself, could hardly see how the awkward lad might come out of such an encounter as this with any degree of credit. being up against two husky and unprincipled men, who had brains with which to plot and scheme, was an entirely different proposition from meeting animals that acted only from instinct, and often very unwisely. "but see here, thad," exclaimed step hen, "you said a while ago there were two reasons for you feeling sorry, and the first was that it was getting late, and we might have to camp soon. what was the other?" "why," the patrol leader continued; "knowing that these hard characters are abroad, between us and bumpus, even if they haven't made a prisoner of our chum, you see, we're kept from doing any more shouting out loud." "just why?" asked the other, dubiously. "it would only advertise our presence to the pair, and they could lay a trap to snare us. perhaps they'd make bumpus lure us on, or even imitate his voice and catch us napping. as it is now," thad went on, "so far as we know, they don't even suspect that we're around. if we can keep them from knowing right along, our job's going to be all the easier." "you're right, thad," said allan, emphatically. and even the other two could see the force of his reasoning. there was nothing to do, therefore, but keep steadily along, trusting to their perseverance to bring them a reward in the end. none of them dared to even dream that the astonishing good luck that had followed bumpus ever since he found himself lost in the big timber, would not continue with him to the end. the best they could figure on was that if their chum had fallen into the hands of the two husky timber spies, they would be tired enough to go into camp soon after, and make the boy do all the work of getting supper. and while they thus dallied, dreaming of no danger, the four scouts might be advancing steadily, rod after rod, making use of a rude torch in order to see the trail, and all the while drawing nearer the crisis. "you don't think they'd be apt to hurt bumpus, do you, thad?" the war-like step hen asked, for the third time, as they continued to press on. "not seriously," replied the scoutmaster. "we know they are bullies on the face of it, but really cowards at heart. if they hadn't been that, d'ye suppose for one minute they would ever have bombarded us while we slept, as they thought, with great rocks, any one of which might have broken our arms or legs? and if they've got hold of bumpus, just because he's a scout, and our friend, they'd likely kick him around a lot, and make him knuckle down to them; but i hardly believe they'd hurt him badly. but no matter what they do, they've got to settle with bumpus' chums, sooner or later." chapter xxi. caught in a trap. "i'm glad, right glad to hear you say that, thad," declared step hen. "yes, i know how you feel," the scoutmaster went on, "and it does you a lot of credit too, for scouts should stand by each other through thick and thin. but go slow, step hen, go slow. we don't want to do any shooting, if it can be avoided; and then, remember, only pepper their legs. we belong to an organization that stands for _peace_ every time, and no scout can be permitted to do any violence, unless it is to actually save his own life, or that of a chum." "oh! i understand all that, thad; make your mind easy," declared step hen, jauntily. "what i'd like to do in case those curs have kicked and pounded poor old bumpus, would be to just give 'em each forty whacks on the bare back with that bull whip we use on mike and molly, our pack mules, when they get too stubborn for anything." "now, that ain't a bad idea, step hen," asserted giraffe, nodding his head until, perched on such a long neck, it reminded thad of a wooden manikin he had seen working as an advertisement in a shop window where razors were sold. "no, it's a pretty good scheme--for you, step hen; but i can go you one better. we ought to just tar and feather such rascals, take their guns away, and ride 'em out of camp on a rail." "the last part could be done easy enough," step hen declared; "but that other about the tar and feathers is too silly for anything." "why is it, i'd just like to know?" demanded giraffe. "it's been done hundreds of times, down south, out west, and even up north." "sure, and i've no doubt it's a heap of satisfaction to them that apply the feathers. something like the old fable 'fun for the boys, but death to the frogs.' but tell me, giraffe, please where would you get the tar, up in this big timber wilderness? and how about the feathers--got a pillow handy you can rip open?" and step hen laughed in the face of the long scout, feeling that he had by far the best of the bargain. "oh, shucks! guess that did kinder slip my mind," grumbled giraffe; and he felt so humiliated over his defeat in the wordy war that for five full minutes he actually remained as mute as the sphinx; and it generally took a good deal to keep giraffe silent that long. of course they were constantly on the lookout for any signs ahead of those whose trail they followed. but they had very little hope of stumbling upon such a piece of good luck as overtaking them before night set in. according to the latest report from allan, in whom they all felt the utmost confidence, some hours had passed, perhaps four or more, since hank and his french-canadian partner had made those footprints. "but they have been catching up on bumpus right along," he had also announced in the same breath. "if they were two hours behind at the spot where the bear was killed, they've cut that down to one at the time they passed here. and going at the same rate of speed i should say they'd overtake our chum about a couple of miles away from this spot." "hope they made up their minds to camp right away then," said giraffe. "i'm not saying anything, and i can keep on as long as the next one; but this right--left, which old leg is it, anyway--feels sore sometimes, and then numb-like." "and i'm afraid mine's swelling just a little, thad," ventured step hen. "p'raps there was some poison in that snake bite after all, and you didn't suck it all out." "don't worry," remarked the scoutmaster, cheerily. "both of you are using your lame limb more than you should, that's all. but that can't be helped, because we're bound to find our chum." "yes," said giraffe, sturdily, "even if it takes a leg, as they say. but suppose, now, those men do come up with bumpus, i reckon they'll make out to be friendly hunters, sent out by some of us to find him; because they know a lot about the scouts. step hen here jabbered like an old woman, when we believed hank was the forest ranger, toby smathers, we'd been told to find." "not near so much as you did yourself, giraffe," remonstrated step hen. "that's one thing i will admit you stand in a class by yourself--talking; yes, and in the making of fires at any old time and place. but of course they'll fool bumpus that easy, he's so confiding, so free from suspicion himself." "and then, before he knows what's happening, they'll switch his gun out of his hands, give him a few hard kicks, and just treat him like a dog. oh! it fairly makes my blood boil just to think of it," giraffe went on to say, while he frowned, and gnashed his teeth in a way that must have seriously alarmed the objects of his detestation, could they have been near enough to see and hear. but unfortunately it was all wasted, for both hank and pierre were miles away at the time. "what's that yonder?" exclaimed thad, startling the others. "would you believe it, looks like an old stake and rider country fence, left alone to go to the waste years ago?" allan announced, after taking a look. "well, that's a sign we're getting near some village, i take it," declared step hen. giraffe laughed aloud when he heard this. "why, what a goose you are, step hen," he remarked, bluntly. "oh! am i? see any down coming along?" demanded the other, warmly. "sure i do--on your upper lip," giraffe went on. "noticed it only the other day; and thought then that if you keep on for a dozen years or so, we'll expect you to be sportin' as fine a moustache as the one old jerry william has been coaxing along this half century. you know, the cranford boys liken it to a baseball game, because there are nine on one side and nine on the other." "but why was i silly when i said we might run across a village up here?" step hen persisted, being just bound to know. "because we were told that there wasn't such a thing within fifty miles of this same place, except the little settlement where we got our pack mules," the tall scout went on to say, convincingly. "but that was a fence, all right," step hen avowed. "i heard allan say so; and i guess i know a fence when i see one." "oh! well, don't talk of a fence now, step hen. i think if you ask thad, he'll tell you some feller must a tried to hold out up here, and gave it up from sheer loneliness. either that, or else the injuns got him." "injuns!" repeated step hen, apparently startled. "sure," giraffe went on, for he was a great tease. "how about that, thad?" and the other scout turned to the patrol leader; because it had long ago become second nature with the members of the silver fox patrol to put all arguments up to him for settlement; and it was really remarkable how satisfied both sides usually seemed with his decisions, since they had absolute faith in thad as a just judge. "well, i rather expect giraffe is yarning a little when he says the man may have been wiped out by the indians," the scoutmaster replied, laughingly. "fact is, the chances would be, some trappers come up here each season, and likely spent the whole winter reaping a harvest, returning in the spring with their take. if we had time to look around, which we haven't, i reckon we'd stumble on a concealed cabin somewhere in the thickest of the timber." "wow! must be cold, all right, in winter. talk about your zero, i guess the bottom drops out of the thermometer up here," giraffe ventured to say. "no doubt it is cold, because we're not a great distance from the border line of the british northwest provinces. but then, these fur takers expect that. the further north you go the better the fur," thad remarked. "that's a well-known fact," added allan. "one trapper told me that the skin of a muskrat or a raccoon, taken away up in canada, was worth three of the same captured down in florida." "yes, i reckon that's so," said giraffe, "i can understand why the fur is heavier and richer. old nature provides it according to the weather. if it's a country with hardly any winter, why the fur is thin; and just the other way where it's bitter cold for many months." "but that fence?" step hen went on. "listen to him still harping on that fence business!" jeered giraffe. "oh!" thad went on to say, pleasantly, "perhaps one year these trappers tried to stay through the summer too, and put up a fence to keep their horses from straying, and falling prey to the wild beasts." step hen seemed satisfied, because the explanation appeared natural. so for a while they kept plodding on in almost complete silence. both lame boys limped more or less. thad noticed this, and concluded that they deserved a rest, especially since the afternoon was creeping along, and already the timber began to look a little shadowy. so he mentioned the fact to allan, who immediately resolved to keep a bright lookout for a nice spring of cool water, alongside of which they might stop, build a little fire, and take things comfortable for a while. luckily this chanced to appear very shortly. although they would not say as much, being too proud to complain, step hen and giraffe were secretly glad of the chance to rest. they talked valorously, however, of what great stunts they would be ready to perform after they devoured some supper, and had taken things a little easy. thad knew, however, that it would really require something of an effort to get the boys started afresh. the two hours' rest would refresh their energies, but stiffen their sore legs, more or less. giraffe attended to the fire part of the business, as usual, and step hen hovered near by, ready to assist with what little cooking they might have to do. thad sat there, examining some rough charts he had made of the country, as he knew it; and figuring on just where the camp by the rapids, occupied by bob white, davy jones and smithy, must be. allan had started to take a look around the vicinity, and it was hardly more than ten minutes when he was heard calling: "hello! thad, come here, and give me a hand, will you? i'm caught fast in a trap!" chapter xxii. the cripple business seems to be contagious. of course these words from their comrade gave the other three boy scouts quite a shock. giraffe was on his knees by the fire, and he immediately started to crane his neck, twisting his head in every direction. step hen very wisely first of all removed the little extra coffee-pot they had brought along, and set it safely on the ground, before scrambling to his feet. thad was already hurrying off. not knowing what allan meant by being in a "trap" the sagacious scoutmaster made sure to carry his gun along with him. and seeing this, the other two did likewise. in that wonderful country so close to the mountains, there was no telling what sudden necessity might arise for a means of defense. "where are you, allan?" called thad. the woods were partly in darkness. it was possible to see the tree trunks, but all else seemed vague. this, of course, was partly caused by the fact of the boys having had their eyes dazzled by the glowing fire. had they stood there for ten minutes, until used to the semi-gloom, doubtless they could have distinguished objects around them much more readily. "this way!" came in allan's voice, and rather close by. "no great hurry, boys; but i've tried to get out myself, and can't turn around so as to reach the spring, and step on it with the other foot." "spring!" echoed giraffe. "yes, because i'm held fast in the grip of an old rusty bear trap, that must have been left here last season by the trappers," said allan. "well! what d'ye think about that?" exclaimed giraffe. they were now close to where allan could be seen standing up. "are you hurt much, allan?" demanded thad, horrified at the idea of the other having a badly-mangled leg. "oh! it hurts some, but i guess the old trap must have a pretty weak set of springs, and that's why they purposely left it behind. but if it didn't get a bear, it caught me by the leg, all right." "which leg?" demanded step hen, quickly; but thad spoke up before the question could be answered. "hadn't we better have some light here to work by, allan?" he asked. "i should say it wouldn't be a bad idea, because there are two springs, and they ought to be held down at the same time," the victim of the trap answered. "how about it, giraffe?" asked the patrol leader. "do you want a torch?" exclaimed the fire builder, eagerly. "oh! just give me a minute or so, and i'll fix you out quick." with that he whirled around in his tracks, and started to go back toward the fire, with great bounds, that would have done credit to a leaping deer. when those long "spindle" legs of giraffe got to working properly, they were capable of covering ground at a tremendous rate. and if he had a few stitches of pain, because of that bad stone bruise, giraffe paid little attention to it, so engrossed was he in carrying out the order to get a torch. "i hope you're not hurt much, allan?" said thad, solicitously, as he reached the side of his chum, and began feeling for the trap with both hands. "it isn't as comfortable as it might be," admitted the other, with a nervous little laugh, "and i guess i'll have to join the ranks of the limpers for a few days; but then, think how much worse it might have been, thad." "you mean if the trap had been new instead of worn out, allen?" "yes, that's it, with the springs good, and strong enough to hold even a big bear. whew! i guess i'm some lucky at that. and then, if i didn't have a lot of splendid chums close at hand to help me, i might have a tough time getting out myself; because, you see, they staked the old trap down to the ground, and i just don't seem able to turn far enough to get at the second spring." "i warrant you've been trying, all right," suggested thad. "you just bet i have," chuckled allan, "for five minutes or so, turning and twisting. you see, i didn't want the rest of you to know how i'd stepped plumb into an old bear trap, hidden under the dead leaves here." "but of course you couldn't make it?" thad continued, watching giraffe waving a blazing brand about his head to induce it to flame up better, as he left the fire, and started toward the others. "had to own up at last," admitted allan, "because it hurt badly every time i tried to turn around. but now it will be all right; for here's giraffe and his light." "a good torch she is, too," declared the long scout, coming up just then; "burns just like that fat pine or light wood we had down in north carolina. my! what an immense trap. it must pinch that leg of yours some, allan." "get around on that side, step hen," ordered thad, "and be sure, once you stand on the spring, not to get off until i give the word; because if you did, it will close the jaws as quick as that, and perhaps do more damage." "reckon i understand, thad," said step hen, starting to follow out directions. "and you, giraffe, hold the light so both of us can see," continued thad. "there, steady now. all ready. step hen?" "sure." "then push down hard and steady. there she comes!" allan had taken hold of the jaws of the old bear trap, and no sooner did the pressure exerted by the two side springs cease, than he was able to push them wide apart. he immediately snatched his leg out of the trap, and no sooner had he done so than he rolled over on the ground. "oh! my stars!" exclaimed step hen, "he's hurt more'n he knows of. what if he's got a broken leg? wouldn't we be in a nice pickle though?" "it isn't so bad as that, boys," said allan, who was feeling of the calf of his leg as he lay on his back, "though it hurts quite some. but help me up, thad, and we'll get to the fire. by the time i've used my leg a little, and you get some of that magic liniment soaked on the spot, i guess i'll make out, and be able to start when the rest of you do." allan was full of pluck. moreover, he was an unusually hardy boy, for he had always spent a good part of his time outdoors; and there is nothing more calculated to build up a lad's system than that. he limped some, of course, as he headed toward the fire; but when allan put those firm lips of his tightly together, nothing of an ordinary character at least, could force him to groan, or even admit that he suffered. once by the fire he sat down. step hen went on with his simple cooking operations, while thad, assisted by the ready giraffe, started to look at the hurt. "lucky i had on my leggings," remarked allan. "with those, and my trouser leg underneath, it made more or less of a bumper. and then again, you know, traps are never made with teeth nowadays, like they used to be. a man told me they found that the old style lacerated the leg of the animal so much, they used to lose a third of their catch; for the fox or the mink or the otter would either pull and squirm till he'd amputated his leg, or else gnaw it off." "gnaw it off--ain't you romancing, now, allan?" asked giraffe. "not at all," replied the other. "why that's often been done, though trappers are divided in their opinion about it. some think the animal deliberately gnaws its leg off, ready to make the sacrifice for the sake of liberty. others say that an animal naturally bites at anything that hurts it; and it's while snapping at the jaws of the trap they keep on tearing at their wounded and broken leg, till it gives way. anyhow, there are always a number of poor three-legged small animals in the woods where trapping is done. i've seen a red fox that was minus a leg; and i tell you right now, the way he could get over ground was a caution." while allan was talking along in this fashion, doling out interesting information, he was rolling up the leg of his trousers, though thad could see him wince a little as though it gave him pain to do so. "only a black and blue place on each side," allan went on to say, as if surprised not to discover a worse looking wound. "funny how that could hurt as much as it does." "here, let me put on the liniment, and then bind it up," remarked thad. "you'll find it cooling; and i warrant it's going to help along a lot. these black and blue bruises are always mighty painful. that's where you got the blow, and the blood's already settling there. this stuff will help to keep it moving, for there's witch hazel in it, and that, you know, is really the extract of hamamelis. how's that now?" "feels better, yes, fifty per cent better," declared allan, as the amateur scout surgeon fastened the wet bandage snugly with a couple of safety pins, and started to draw down the leg of the other's trousers, so the outside covering of canvas legging could be replaced. after this had all been done, allan got up, and commenced to walk around. "sort of trying out myself, you know, boys," he remarked, laughingly, to hide any grimace of pain, his actions might be causing. "how is it?" asked thad, sympathetically. "better than i expected," the other replied. "excuse me if i limp around some, boys, but i think it'll let the liniment work in better, to keep it warmed up. oh! i've a lot to be thankful for, let me tell you. i'm not putting up any sort of kick." "well," remarked thad, with a good-natured smile, "all i can say is, that you fellows are working the family doctor to the limit these days. what with stone bruises, snake bites, and getting caught in bear traps, i'm making a big hole in the stock of salve and liniment i fetched along. i suppose it's going to be my turn next. perhaps you may have to make a stretcher, and carry me back to camp with a broken leg, or something like that." "for goodness sake, i hope not," exclaimed allan. "just imagine the alarm of the other fellows when a procession of limpers came in sight, carrying another. and with our chum bumpus an unknown quantity too." "what if he got lamed up too; wouldn't that just be the limit?" chuckled giraffe, who often saw humor where no one else did. "anyhow," spoke up step hen, still busy at the fire, and there was an air of satisfaction in his voice, giraffe instantly noted, "allan belongs in _my_ class." "how's that?" instantly demanded the jealous giraffe. "well! just use your eyes, and you won't need to ask so many foolish questions. don't you see how he limps when he puts that old _right_ leg down? well, it was my right one that got the snake bite. allan and me make up the right leg brigade. you'll just have to herd by yourself, giraffe--anyhow till somebody else takes a notion to drop in the fire, or cut his toe with the wood axe, or somethin' like that." thad and allan laughed at the comical way in which the peculiar condition of things was described by step hen. "well," said the scoutmaster, "let's hope that won't happen. better giraffe should stay in a class all by himself to the end of the chapter, than another fellow meet with a serious accident. we've got cripples enough." "i guess this ends the run of hard luck," declared the maine boy, still keeping up his movements, although perhaps unconsciously favoring the injured leg, as any one is apt to do under similar conditions. "why d'ye say that?" asked giraffe. "oh! you know they always say accidents come in threes," allan replied, cheerfully. "the women folks in our house used always to believe that, anyhow; and this makes three of us hobbling around. if we were at home now, perhaps we'd be wanting to use crutches; but up here in the woods we just grin and bear it like true scouts." "yes," giraffe went on, "guess you're right about women folks believin' in a broken looking-glass standing for coming trouble, and all such things; though my dad used to say he had all the trouble settle on him in paying for a new mirror. but honest to goodness, fellers, i remember once when my maw, she chanced to drop some dishes, and busted two--what does she do but walks right over to the dresser, gets out a cracked tumbler she must a been keepin' for just such a time to come along; and i give you my word, i nearly took a fit when she just deliberately smashed that down alongside the broken crockery, and i heard her say, says she: 'there! that makes _three_ now!' just as if that ended it." "supper's ready," announced step hen, when the laughter induced by giraffe's little story had subsided. the coffee tasted just as good as ever. besides, they had some venison, cooked in the hunter's primitive way, each piece having been pierced by a long splinter of wood, the other end being stuck in the ground, so that the meat was close enough to the red coals to cook without burning--too much. perhaps at home, with a white table-cloth, silver, cut glass, and all the ordinary "fixings" around them, some of those boys might have viewed the suspicious looks of those half-cooked pieces of meat with more or less hesitation. but appetite ruled here, and every one declared it was "just prime." and if a fellow found that his meat, while scorched on the outside, was nearly raw in the center, why, you know, all good cook's unite in saying game should always be juicy and underdone, rather than dry and overdone--step hen had read it in his mother's precious cook-book at home, and boldly said so. when they were done eating they just lay around talking and resting. it was very comfortable, and neither giraffe nor step hen felt in the least like making any change. but they knew that after a while, when the determined scoutmaster thought they had rested long enough, he would give the order that must once more see them limping along the trail, a band of cripples. of course the talk was mostly about bumpus, harmed. for, despite the faith thad professed to and what chances they had of finding him unharmed in the extraordinary good luck of the fat scout, there were times when even his stout heart became a prey to misgivings; and in his mind he saw poor bumpus being badly treated by those two bullies, the timber cruisers. latterly allan had been selecting several good pieces of wood calculated to burn well, and serve as torches. when thad finally gave the word, they prepared to depart. one of the splinters of wood, taken from a near-by tree that must have been riven by a bolt of lightning in the recent storm, was lighted. then they saw that the camp-fire was carefully put out, after which allan, bearing the torch, found the trail, and started off. they kept this up for over an hour. not one of them murmured, though no doubt their lame legs hurt considerably. but they remembered constantly that they were scouts; and that as such, their ability to stand pain was on trial. it was the secret hope of every heart, however, that very soon now they might discover signs calculated to tell them they were drawing near the end of their long pursuit of the lost tenderfoot. the others were glad, therefore, when old eagle eye, as step hen persisted in terming giraffe, suddenly called a halt. "i guess i've sighted a camp-fire ahead, fellers!" was what he declared. chapter xxiii. the way blocked. "hurrah!" exclaimed step hen, not in a shout, but cautious like, as became a scout when danger was near; still, he was thrilled by the information which this announcement from giraffe contained. if there was a fire beyond, the chances seemed pretty good that they would soon know the truth with regard to bumpus. of course they kept on hoping for the best; but almost anything would be preferable to this anxiety that had been gnawing so long at their hearts, it had nearly worn them out. allan thrust his burning torch into the ground, behind a neighboring tree, so that its light might no longer blind his eyes when he tried to see the fire giraffe had discovered. after all of them had been directed just where to look, by the exulting scout whose sharp vision had first located the far-off light, it was easily decided that there could be no doubt as to its being a fire. and as the trail ran about that way, in a general direction, of course they were perfectly safe in believing that some, or all, of those they had been so persistently following, would be found alongside that fire. the very thought gave them a delicious thrill. by another hour then, perhaps in even less time than that, they would likely know the worst. and if, as several of them secretly feared, those two ugly brutes of timber cruisers had dared lay so much as the weight of their heavy hands in anger on bumpus, or ventured to kick him around as though he were a slave--well, something unpleasant was going to happen to them, that was positive. "it's a fire, all right," announced thad; and giraffe breathed easier, for he had been entertaining a slight fear lest some of his laurels be snatched away. "and all of a mile from here," allan remarked. "i wonder however you discovered it, giraffe, with all these big trees around. there must be just a little opening ahead, and you hit on that avenue." "oh!" said giraffe, as if carelessly, though he was undoubtedly secretly pleased with such words of commendation from one who had had such long experience in the art of woodcraft as the maine boy; "what's the good of having eyes unless you use 'em? that was just dead easy--for me, you know." "now, the question is, what do we want to do--what would seem to be our best course?" thad went on to say. "i calculate you are referring to the torch business?" allan remarked. "yes, that's it," replied the scoutmaster, "we've got to decide right now whether to keep on using it for a while longer, or stamp on the same, and make our way ahead the best way possible." "but why not keep on with the light?" asked step hen, who was wondering whether in the darkness he might not be so dreadfully unfortunate as to step on another of those "fighting snakes," and have his _left_ leg put out of commission also, which would be a dreadful catastrophe indeed. "because there's always a chance one of those sharp timber cruisers would see it bobbin' along, and that would put them on their guard. we had one experience in that line, you know, fellers, when they heard us coming, and got all ready to receive us. i don't like ever to stamp out a fire, but if you say the word, thad, out it goes." "i think on the whole," remarked the patrol leader, "it would be wiser for us to do it. let's locate that fire by the stars, or any other old way. now, you can douse the glim, giraffe." accordingly the tall scout trampled on the partly-burned torch until the very last spark had been extinguished. "hated to do it, but orders is orders," giraffe was heard to mutter. "listen to him, would you?" said step hen, scornfully. "he feels that way about all the fires he makes, too; just hates to put 'em out. makes me think of an old aunt i have. she raises chickens, but never has any to eat. why, she says she might as soon eat a baby, as a hen she'd raised, and talked to, and made a pet of. don't ketch me being so old-womanish and silly." now that they were in darkness, it would of course make their progress slower, since they had to reckon on all sorts of obstacles. "one thing," said allan, as they started out, "i think i can come back to this same place in the morning, if we should want to find it again." "but what would we want to find it for?" step hen demanded. "oh! i don't believe we will; but it might happen, you see, that we'd have to take up the trail again from here," allan explained. "you mean in case we lost the fire, or didn't find bumpus with those two rascals?" giraffe asked. "that's it," said the maine boy. "well, how're you agoin' to find this place again?" step hen went on to inquire, "all coons look alike to me; and one part of this big timber strikes me as pretty much the same as the rest, 'specially when you see it at night time." "you wait, and allan, he'll tell you how," broke in giraffe, confidently. he felt sure from the way allan spoke that he knew what he was saying; and after seeing how cleverly the maine boy had stuck to the trail, when the marks were all greek to himself and step hen, the tall scout had come to have a sincere admiration for allan. besides, just then it happened that giraffe was feeling pretty good. he had received a very high compliment from the acting scoutmaster, and that is usually a great victory for any ambitious scout. why, he almost forgot he was tired to death, and that his injured leg had been paining him furiously. such an affect can mind have over matter. "oh!" said allan, off-hand, and in no particular hurry to speak, because they all really needed a little breathing spell before going on, "it's generally dead easy to mark most any place in the timber, if only you use your eyes. there's nearly always some odd old stump of a tree standing around that you'd be apt to know again. sometimes there happens to be a tree with a queer shape, that just catches your eye. once noticed, it's easy to remember the same." "and right now you're meaning that pair of trees that have fallen toward each other till they look like a couple of girls going to hug," spoke up giraffe, quickly; eager to show that those boasted eagle eyes of his had been able to see more than just the campfire far ahead. "sure thing. giraffe, and i'm glad you noticed them, because two heads are better than one, any day," allan went on to say. "even if one is--but i won't say it," step hen chuckled. "guess you better not," snapped giraffe. "but now that we've decided on that little tree test of memory, hadn't we better be going ahead? i'm thinkin' of our poor chum bumpus, and what he may be enduring right now." "yes," declared thad, "we've rested enough, and might just as well be putting our best foot forward." "meanin' the right leg," muttered giraffe. "you're wrong--it's the left one with allan and me, and majority rules in our patrol, you know," chuckled step hen. "come on, boys, i've got the bearings pretty well, if that star only stays out from behind the clouds that hide the moon." thad, upon speaking in this strain, started, with allan alongside to give council, and insure progress along direct lines. having had much more experience than the other pair of scouts they were not only able to keep in a fairly direct line with the fire, but managed to avoid stumbling over obstacles as well. giraffe and step hen proved less fortunate. several times they stepped into holes, or else tripped over vines. and each mishap was accompanied by more or less of a crash, as well as much grumbling from the unfortunate one, and perhaps chuckling from the other. this would never do in the wide world. either they must slow up still more, so as to give the stumblers a chance to pick their way more carefully, or else those better able to move along without trouble would have to take giraffe and step hen in tow. it was decided that the latter method would be better, all things considered. and so thad convoyed giraffe, while allan slipped a hand through the right arm of step hen. "case of the blind leading the blind, i guess," muttered the latter, grimly, "because we've both got a game right leg." "don't talk any more than you have to, step hen," cautioned the other. so they moved along for some time. at any rate it seemed to go better now. the stumbles were fewer, and of less consequence, and naturally, as the two who lacked experience in this sort of thing, became more and more proficient, their confidence arose accordingly. now and then they were able to discover the beacon light that was drawing them along. and in this particular the really sharp eyes of giraffe proved of great help. several times he was able to direct thad's attention to the light when even the scoutmaster had failed to discover it. but all this while their progress seemed to continue in such a direct forward line that both giraffe and step hen were amazed. they could not understand how it was done, with all those trees, and other obstacles, to avoid. some boys seem to be natural-born woodsmen. it comes easy to such to adapt themselves to circumstances, and learn all sorts of new "wrinkles" connected with woodcraft. with others it is a hard task, though determination to succeed is the main thing. before that will-power, few obstacles can stand. it was while the four scouts were making fair progress through the timber in this manner, that they suddenly ran up against another serious obstacle, and one that for a time threatened to upset all their calculations. allan suddenly gave the low bark of a fox, quickly repeated twice. it brought the boys to a sudden standstill, for they recognized the signal of danger. the way was blocked! chapter xxiv. the "little lightning." "what is it?" whispered step hen, suddenly turning cold with apprehension. no doubt the first thought that flashed through his mind was that those two unscrupulous timber cruisers must in some remarkable manner have learned of their coming again, as on the previous occasion. perhaps step hen had just been thinking along these lines, and was prepared to hear a gruff voice call out to them that it was no use, and that they had better surrender. "the way is blocked!" said allan, also in a low, guarded voice, as the others crowded in toward him. "in what way, allan?" asked thad, anxiously, his voice hardly louder than the soft murmuring night wind that gently shivered the leaves overhead. "look straight ahead," replied the other. "it's good i happened to glimpse the fellow before we bumped into him." "goodness gracious!" ejaculated step hen. he had of course done as allan suggested, and to his surprise discovered two glow worms, or fire flies, or something similar, only they did not seem to come and go, but just burned steadily. "what are they?" asked giraffe, excitedly. "eyes," replied allan. "a wolf?" whispered step hen, apprehensively. "more likely a panther," thad answered back. they were all half crouching there, with nervous hands clutching their guns. "that's what it is," said allan, with decision in his voice and manner. "a wolf would be too much of a coward to stay so long. and listen closely, boys." "wow! i can hear the old cat growling to himself," said giraffe. thad felt his comrade make a hasty little move. then his quick ear caught the click of a gun lock. "here, none of that, giraffe," he whispered, sternly. "but he might jump on us!" expostulated the tall scout. "how about that, allan?" asked the patrol leader, who did not like the idea of such a happening any more than giraffe. "i don't think he will, if we keep back," replied allan, coolly; "that is, if i know anything about the nature of the beasts; and i ought to. he objects to our being in his game preserves, that's all, and is trying to serve notice on us the best he knows how, that he's cleared the decks for action, and means to fight, unless we turn around and quit." "the nerve of the thing!" muttered giraffe, weakly. "how about going around, and letting the old thing alone?" suggested step hen. "oh! you'd find him on to that game," allan went on to say. "chances are he'd just keep pace with us; and when we started to advance again, we'd see his yellow eyes, and hear his warning growl." "shucks! and do we have to take water from a painter?" demanded giraffe, giving the dangerous animal the name by which it is generally known among all backwoodsmen and forest rangers. "i say let's knock him over. every one draw a bead on those yellow eyes, and thad give the word to fire. we'll pepper him so well he never can know what hit him." it was step hen who made this war-like proposal; but thad cautioned his comrades against any such rash action. "of course," he said, "we'd be pretty sure to kill the beast. he couldn't stand for such a volley at short range. but you understand, such a fierce racket would tell everybody inside of five miles that we were around." "sure!" exclaimed step hen, quite crushed. "i forgot those thieves of timber men." "but what can we do, then, thad;" pleaded giraffe, at his wits' ends to grapple with the perplexing problem. as usual it was thad who saw a way out. "we've just got to scare him off," he said, in a resolute tone. "but how can we, when we dassn't shout even, for fear of telling the fellers around that camp-fire all about us?" step hen asked. "there may be a way," thad said, quietly, just as though he might be running things over in that clever mind of his, and trying to decide whether it would pay to try the plan he had in view. "tell us?" urged giraffe. "then listen, and if any of you think it's too risky, just say so, and we'll try something else." when thad said this, the others imagined he was about to propose an advance on the enemy from all sides. confused by having four enemies approaching from as many quarters, perhaps the panther might think discretion the better part of valor, and turn tail and run. so giraffe and step hen drew in long breaths, and shut their teeth together in a firm, determined way; doubtless resolving to do their duty, as scouts always should, no matter what the risk. but they were very much surprised when thad's explanation turned out to be something of an entirely different nature. "just by chance," he went on to say, while all of them kept watching those glowing balls of yellow fire so close by, "i've got with me one of those new patent little flashlights davy has been using to take pictures with at night time. all you have to do is to hold it out, and pull the thing off. if that suddenly dazzled the eyes of the panther, i've got a good notion he'd move along. how about it, allan?" "i guess you're right, thad," chuckled the maine boy. "all the cat tribe seem to be dreadfully afraid of fire. yes, that would sure fetch him." neither giraffe nor step hen gave utterance to a single word, one way or the other. they were, as the former would have expressed it, "just tickled to death" by this bright suggestion on the part of the scout leader. and doubtless neither scout ever would believe, deep down in his admiring heart, that thad simply "chanced" to have the explosive cartridge in his possession. rather were they positive that he must have foreseen this very difficulty, and prepared for it. "the only trouble is this," thad continued, even while he handed his gun over to step hen, and seemed to be fumbling with both hands, as though getting the little new-fangled flashlight cartridge in readiness for action; "do you think the sudden illumination will be seen at the camp yonder; and if so what do you expect hank and pierre will believe?" "oh! it will be seen, all right," remarked giraffe. "sure thing," put in step hen, as though he felt it his duty to give his opinion with the rest, just to show that he grasped the situation; "because those things make a fierce flare-up." "but you ought to use it, all the same, thad," remarked allan. "if the men notice it at all, the chances are ten to one they'll think it was only some little lightning. since that storm anything goes, you know." "little lightning it is, then," returned the scoutmaster. "the rest of us had better hold ourselves ready to shoot, if the beast jumps this way instead of the other," allan suggested. "you bet we will," said giraffe. "every time," whispered step hen, gently lowering thad's gun to the ground, so he could handle his own better. now, thad knew how both of them were apt to be impulsive, and he thought it best to warn them against precipitate action. "careful, boys. the chances are, you won't have to shoot. use good judgment, and don't spoil things. keep your eyes on that spot. are you ready?" "yes," said allan. "go ahead, thad!" whispered giraffe. "go on!" muttered step hen, partly holding his breath with suspense. "all right. here she goes!" hardly had thad spoken these words than there was a dazzling flash. he had been wise enough to hold the little cartridge pistol out at right angles, so that the fierce white glare might not blind them, as he hoped it would do in connection with the panther. all of the boys were eagerly on the watch; and knowing just where to look they instantly sighted the panther. the abrupt and terrific burst of intense light had produced an effect upon the startled beast, just as thad and allan had so confidently predicted. the boys saw a long, lithe, gray body leap wildly into the air. this was the beast that had just been disputing their right to advance further into his domain. evidently the cautious nature of the panther, together with his well-known fear of fire, had combined to give him a shock; for when he made that spasmodic leap into the air, it was _away_ from the "little lightning," and not toward it. for a second or two only did that brilliant illumination continue. then darkness once more swallowed up the surroundings; and doubtless it was all the more dense to the eyes of the four boys because of that recent dazzling flash. they could hear a patter of feline feet among the dead leaves; but the sounds were retreating. there also came a low whimper. allan told them later that a panther always gives utterance to such a complaining sound when he has been whipped in a fight, and made to slink off; or else frightened in any way. "he's gone!" said allan, reassuringly. "and the chances are, he won't dare to block our path again in a hurry," thad declared. "say, that old painter must a got a shock, though," giraffe went on. "it was enough to scare anything that walks on four legs, or even two. fact is, if i hadn't been looking for it, the giddy old thing would a given me a start." "same here," admitted step hen. "now that the way's clear, let's go on, boys," remarked thad, as he took his gun again from step hen; "and we'll hope all our troubles can be chased away as easy as that." chapter xxv. "catching a tartar;" and a fat one at that. they had little trouble moving along now. somehow, it seemed as though the eyes of step hen and giraffe must be getting more accustomed to the way obstacles could be avoided; or else the woods had become a little more open. at any rate they stumbled not at all now, which would seem to be a lucky thing, because all the while they were constantly drawing closer to the fire. thad and allan knew they had need of caution. those two precious rogues of timber spies were roaming this region with the intention of locating patches of valuable trees near enough to a stream to be felled, and floated down by the next spring freshet. they were on government land, and their rich but unscrupulous employers had been long engaged in this form of robbery, by which the reservations lose many millions of feet of fine lumber every year. and such men, knowing that their work is evil, and that they are constantly breaking the law, suspect every stranger of being a government spy. no wonder then they showed dislike at the mere mention of the name of toby smathers, who was a forest ranger, at times in the employ of the washington authorities, and always on the lookout for the operations of timber thieves. thad could see some one moving about. this happened when the other chanced to come between himself and the fire. "i do believe that's our chum, bumpus;" whispered giraffe, eagerly, showing that he too had been watching the figure. they all used their eyes to advantage, as they cautiously crept along. presently they would have gained a point so near the fire that it would be necessary for them to change their mode of locomotion. instead of walking, even as they were doing now, in a bent-over attitude, they must get down on all fours, and creep, just as a panther would do when approaching a feeding deer which he hoped to pounce upon unawares. it was one of the most exciting and thrilling moments in the lives of step hen and giraffe. possibly they could not conceive of anything more typical of what must go hand in hand with scouting business, than this creeping through the woods, and constantly drawing closer and closer to a fire, about which enemies would most likely be seated, all unaware of their presence. they felt proud of the manner in which they were accomplishing these things. it reflected great credit upon their ability as scouts. nearer they crawled. why, allan was actually down on his stomach now, and he seemed to "wiggle" along just as they had seen an angle worm do, or a snake. yes, and there was thad copying the example of the expert maine boy. it would seem to be up to giraffe and step hen to do likewise. they were quick to learn, once they had a pattern to go by. and in another minute the whole four of the scouts lay fully extended on the ground, clawing their way along as best they might; satisfied to advance, even though it be inches at a time. there was no longer any doubt in connection with what might be going on just beyond. even giraffe and step hen understood it now. first of all they saw the lost tenderfoot; and it did them great good just to feast their eyes upon the portly figure of bumpus, after all this searching for him, day after day. then there were hank and pierre, too, just as hulking, and ugly as ever, or even more so. the two timber cruisers were evidently taking their ease, stretched out at full length, smoking their pipes. something about the very air of the men would have told an observer that they were enjoying the novelty of being waited on. it was not often that hank and pierre knew the luxury of having a "slave" along, to humor their every little whim; and they were apparently bent on making the most out of the opportunity. evidently bumpus was aware of the fact that he might look upon himself as a servant, for the time being. his dejected manner, as he sat there, gnawing at some bones they had evidently allowed him to have, after he had cooked supper, and waited on his captors, seemed to tell this only too plainly. even as the four scouts lay there and looked, they heard hank call out gruffly: "come here, younker!" bumpus pretended not to hear at first. evidently he dreaded to get too close to the men, for some reason or other. at that hank burst out into a string of profanity that was enough to make any respectable scout shudder. and when he ordered bumpus again to come over to him, the fat boy evidently dared no longer pretend deafness. he approached the spot where the two men half sat; and thad could see from the wary manner in which bumpus did this that he expected rough treatment. "git me a coal outen the fire, you fat fool; my pipe's gone out again!" hank said this in the ugliest way possible. indeed, to judge from his manner, one might even imagine it was the fault of poor bumpus that his pipe had ceased to burn, instead of his own laziness. bumpus forthwith stepped over to the near-by fire. as he bent over, he looked cautiously behind him once or twice, just as though the poor fellow half expected to have one of his tormentors kick him, and he did not want to have such a thing happen so that he would plunge in among the burning wood. securing a brand that was suitable for the purpose, bumpus advanced toward the two men. he handed this to hank. "stand thar!" ordered the bully, as bumpus was edging away. applying the light to his pipe, hank sent out several puffs of smoke. then, just as a smoker might wish to extinguish his match before throwing it away, he suddenly hurled the blazing torch after the now retreating bumpus. that worthy tried to dodge, but was either too clumsy, or else hank had made allowances for this. at any rate, the brand struck bumpus squarely in the middle of his fat back; and while it did not set his clothes on fire, at least it forced a grunt from the scout. hank burst out into a harsh laugh, while pierre grinned. then they went on talking as though regardless of the presence of the boy. thad had felt giraffe quiver beside him when he saw bumpus abused and insulted in this fashion. and only for hank giving that laugh, one of the men might have heard the gritting of giraffe's strong teeth, he was that worked up. "sh!" hissed the scoutmaster, close to the other's ear; and giraffe subsided, though he was still quivering all over from excitement and eagerness,--yes and anger too. if he could only have had his way right then and there, giraffe undoubtedly would have stepped out, and covering the two rascals with his gun, threatened to shoot unless they abjectly surrendered. and this time they would not get off as easily as before. after the way they had treated bumpus, they deserved something more severe. but then thad evidently was not quite ready to act. perhaps he wanted to see what else hank and his timber mate might do. perhaps--but giraffe concluded that it was foolish trying to figure these things out, when all he had to do in order to learn the truth, was to possess his soul in patience and wait. bumpus, true to his new scout training, even while he was listening to the laughter of his tormentor, and rubbing his back where the fire-brand had struck him with such a thump; turned, and deliberately put his foot upon the blaze, grinding it into the earth until it was utterly extinguished. it was really one of the most surprising examples of newly-acquired discipline that thad had even seen. nor would he soon forget it. bumpus was apparently watching the two men on the sly. when he thought they were not looking, the fat scout quickly bent over near a tree. thad had quite a thrill, for he saw that the two guns owned by the men stood against this same tree. whatever could bumpus be doing there? again and again did he turn his head to glance toward hank and pierre, just as though he might be afraid that one of them could see him. but hank was telling a story of some kind, evidently, for the rumble of his heavy voice seemed continuous; while pierre lay on his back, both hands under his head, listening, and smoking in a lazy fashion. now bumpus had quitted the vicinity of the tree, and hovered on the other side of the fire. he craned his neck several times, just as though he wanted to make sure of something. thad believed he knew what that _something_ was. he had discovered, close alongside the burly figure of hank, the ten-guaged, marlin, double-barreled gun belonging to bumpus. evidently the bully had confiscated the weapon, and meant to keep it, as something that might come in handy. now, bumpus was a poor loser. he had grown to feel quite attached to that remarkable gun, during the short period of his ownership. and doubtless it had become more precious in his sight, after the clever way in which it had worked of late, with regard to that wildcat; and later on the lame grizzly that had treed bumpus. thad believed he had designs on that gun. just then hank called out again. "git a kettle o' water at the spring, younker, an' bring me a drink! be quick, now, er i'll skin ye alive!" bumpus picked up a kettle or saucepan, the only one in sight, and of generous proportions. as hank roared at him to "dip deep, and bring her full, enough for a grown man," the fat scout hastened to do so. he approached, holding the kettle with both hands. hank half sat up, to receive it; which he certainly did, full in the face. as spluttering he started to get, first to his knees and then on his feet, bumpus, with an agility that was remarkable in one of his stout build, snatched up his trusty marlin from the ground, and hastened to put some little space between himself and the astonished timber cruisers, already jumping toward the tree where their guns stood. "'tain't no use!" shouted bumpus, gleefully. "i took every cartridge out, and you bet i ain't agoin' to let you shove any more in. sit down now, or i'll open fire on you!" chapter xxvi. "tenderfoot? well, hardly, after this." "wow! bully for bumpus!" cried out giraffe. "hold 'em tight, old chum; we're here to see you through, all right!" shouted step hen. of course there was no use of trying to hide any longer. thad and allan knew this, and that the time had come for them to back bumpus up, the minute they saw him open hostilities in that astonishing way. all of them were on their feet, now, and hurrying toward the fire. hank and pierre, being desperate men, might have even thought it worth while to put up some sort of resistance; but they had their talons drawn when, upon investigating the condition of their guns, they found that, sure enough, these were empty. while the two men lay there at their ease, never dreaming that the fat scout would have the nerve to do anything but whimper, and shiver at the sound of their harsh orders, bumpus, laying out this wonderfully clever little surprise, had amused himself by working the mechanism of their guns, and extracting the last cartridge. and it was the heavy rumble of hank's deep bass voice that had helped operations along, by deadening the "click" of the cautiously moved mechanical devises belonging to the repeating rifles. "drop those guns, you two, and be quick about it!" thad gave this order, because he knew that each of the men would be apt to have a belt of extra cartridges buckled about their waists, or slung over their shoulder. and to an experienced hunter, it is only a question of seconds, really, when he can shove a single charge into the firing chamber of his empty gun. of course hank and pierre hated most dreadfully to obey this order; but there was no use talking; the scouts had the upper hand, and if they knew what was good for them they must do as they were told. in the first place there was bumpus, excitedly covering first one and then the other; and how were they to make sure but that he might, even by accident, have a cramp in his finger, while looking along the double-barreled marlin? then, as if that were not enough, four other guns were bearing upon them, as the new arrivals advanced in a line. "it's too big odds, younkers, an' we gives in;" but hank used a good many more words than this to express his disgust, only the rest were not at all necessary. he threw his gun down angrily on the ground; pierre was just as energetic, and both men fairly glared at their boyish captors. "step hen, lay down your gun, and secure those of the enemy," ordered thad. with a wide grin decorating his freckled face, step hen proceeded to carry out the injunction of the patrol leader. and one could easily see that the boy took the keenest delight in thus having a hand in disarming the enemy. "now," continued thad, "search hank for a knife, and take it away. get his cartridge belt too; and when you've done that, give pierre a whirl. we'll just stand around, and be ready to plunk them chock full of lead if they try to resist." but the men were utterly disheartened. they seemed to realize that they were up against a tough proposition. everything was going wrong; and the philosophy of your timber cruiser under such conditions is to appear indifferent and reckless. perhaps they try to act very much on the same principle as an indian would, upon being put to the torture. after fully disarming the men thad saw to it that both of them were tied up. hank growled fearfully, but the half-breed seemed to take the whole affair somewhat in the light of a good joke. this seemed all the more strange because nearly all half-breeds, thad had been told, were surly by nature. when this duty had been well performed, thad joined the others about the fire. bumpus had had his hand shaken again and again until his whole arm began to feel the result. "the bulliest feller in the whole bunch, barring none!" step hen had declared. "he's on the way to being made a first-class scout, that's right," giraffe solemnly remarked, all his petty jealousy gone, now that he again had hold of bumpus' fat hand, and found himself looking into the laughing eyes. "all along he's acquitted himself splendidly," said thad, warmly. "and none of us ever dreamed you had it in you, bumpus." allan chimed in. it was indeed a proud hour for bumpus. forgotten were all his trials and anxieties. he would easily have been willing to undertake the whole programme again could he be sure of such a joyous outcome--yes, even to being hectored, browbeaten, insulted, and kicked about like a dog, by hank and pierre. long they sat there, talking of the many things that must of course be exceedingly interesting when looked back upon as past performances. bumpus was asked strings of questions until finally he threw up his hands, to announce that the well was pumped dry. then they set about making ready to pass the remainder of the night there. when another day came they could decide what to do with hank and his companion, who were hardly the kind of men to set free, with arms on their person, and hatred in their hearts. of course thad and allan made up their minds that they must, between them, stand guard until morning came. they dared not take any chances when dealing with such desperate men as were the two trapped timber cruisers. and when they saw that a vidette, armed with a ready gun, was to keep the fire going all the while, as well as watch them, doubtless the men decided not to try and escape, but take things as easy as possible. there was no trouble. morning came, and found them up and doing; for thad was most anxious to return to the camp near the foot of the rapids. after so many days he felt sure the three boys left at the camp would be dreadfully worried concerning the absent ones, and especially bumpus; because, of course they still considered him as a poor, ignorant tenderfoot scout, blundering along after a fashion, and hardly knowing enough to come in out of the wet, when it rained. ah! yes, there were a number of tremendous surprises in store for dave and bob and smithy, when the full story of bumpus' achievements was told by the glowing camp-fire; and mostly at that by those who had followed his trail through the big timber, reading the signs as they appeared, and observing the remarkable progress the fat member of the silver fox patrol made, once he started thinking for himself. they had enough venison left for one good meal all around, including the two timber cruisers. thad was worried about these men. he did not know what to do with them, truth to tell. if he sent them away with weapons and ammunition; there was always a chance that sometime later the fellows might again run across them, and give trouble. on the other hand, it seemed rather cruel to turn them loose in the wilderness, so far away from civilization, and without arms, by means of which they might obtain food, or defend themselves in case of trouble. upon putting it up to hank and pierre themselves, the men, quite downcast now, declared that they were done "cruising" in that section, and meant to get out of it just as fast as their legs could carry them. "let us off this time, younker," hank pleaded. "we got our lesson rubbed in good an' hard, i reckons. i'm even willin' to have fatty here kick me as many times as i did him; though i do say as how he paid it all up when he played that fine trick on us." it was not surprising, therefore, that the gratified bumpus, in the goodness of his heart, asked thad to forgive the two men. "i'll tell you what we'll do," thad decided. "leave their guns here, and take the men to the camp with us. then, if we decide to turn them loose, they'll have to come half a day's journey back to get the guns." and so it was decided to arrange matters. chapter xxvii. well-earned rest--conclusion. welcome indeed, was the sight of the two familiar tents, with a cheery camp-fire blazing in front; mike and molly, the two pack mules, browsing near by, and the three boys who had been left in charge caught in the act of cooking dinner. it was just high noon on that day when thad led his little victorious squad out of the brush, and in sight of the camp. what an uproarious welcome awaited them! the three boys, who had begun to grow heavy hearted with suspense from long waiting and watching, vied with each other in trying to see who could make the most noise, and give the greatest assortment of yells intended to take the place of a welcome. why, even the astonished mules looked up and "hee-hawed to beat the band," as giraffe declared. and when bob white, smithy and davy jones discovered that sure enough their comrades were fetching a pair of hulking prisoners along with them, their delight surpassed all bounds. "it's getting to be a habit with us, fellers," declared giraffe, proudly. "why, we just can't take a little stroll any more, without bumping up against a pair of bad men, who need attention. don't blame us; we just couldn't help it." bumpus, bless his dear old heart, was looking as "fine as a peach;" nothing at all like the woebegone, half-starved tenderfoot, whom those left in the camp had expected to gaze upon, if indeed they were lucky enough to ever see him in the flesh once more. with a beaming face he came along, his gun slung over his back by the heavy cord that had come in so handy when the grizzly chased him up a tree; and as he walked bumpus had both hands up to his mouth, making sounds that would do credit to any horn. and behold, the burden of the air, as the shouting scouts recognized, was "lo, the conquering hero comes; sound the trumpets. beat the drums." such a great time as they had, shaking bumpus by the hand, pounding him on the back, and telling him again and again how lucky he ought to consider himself because he had such good and loyal chums, ever ready to go out and succor the unfortunate, and bring them home again safely. and bumpus never once lifted up his voice in protestations or boastings, simply grinned through it all, and kept one eye on thad; who finally thinking it was time the fellows were made aware of the true state of affairs, called out: "show what you've got, bumpus!" imagine the great surprise, bordering on consternation, of bob and davy and smithy when the fat tenderfoot fished in his pocket and held something up. "the foot of a bob-cat, as sure as i live!" ejaculated davy jones. "did you kill it, bumpus?" asked smithy, awed by the very thought. "thad says so, and _he_ knows!" was what bumpus remarked; and then with even a wider grin he fished down in another pocket, this time holding up some bulky articles that made the three camp guardians fairly gasp for breath. "grizzly bear claws! great jehosophat! you don't mean to say that you found your bear, bumpus, and actually bagged him?" cried davy jones. "did i, thad; you saw where i left him?" replied the wonderful one. "you sure nailed him, good and hard, bumpus, even if it did take ten shots or more, fired into him from a tree, to do the business. if ever anybody has a right to say he killed a bear all by himself, fair and square, bumpus has. and here are three more truthful witnesses who will testify the same way," with which thad waved his arm around to take in step hen, allan and giraffe, all of whom put up a right hand, and gravely nodded approval of his words. "and even that ain't all, fellers," quoth giraffe, "what would you think now if i told you bumpus had turned the tables on these here two critters who'd captured him, and were makin' him do all sorts of slave stunts to please themselves? yes-siree, took all the shells out of their guns, and then grabbed up his own to cover 'em. we _saw_ him do it all, so there ain't any mistake. if you doubt me, ask hank there." mechanically the doubting ones turned toward the big timber cruiser, who, playing his little game of appearing to be very contrite and sorry, so as to be let off easily, made a wry face, and remarked: "jest what fatty did ter us; he give us the biggest s'prise of our lives, pierre and me. that's the time we fooled ourselves. he caught us, all right, and i ain't got no kick acomin', 'less so be he wants to pay me back that way; which i don't think's goin' to be the case, 'cause he's too fine a feller to be revengeful like." "i want to shake hands with you again, suh," said bob white, the southern boy, as he pushed up to bumpus. "and right now let me take back everything i've ever said about your being a poor tenderfoot. i reckon, suh, a heap of the rest of us scouts'll have to sit at your feet, and take a few lessons on _how to do it_." "a wild cat; a bear; and capturing a couple of--what are they, thad, pirates, or just plain hold-up men? that's going some for even a first-class scout. just as bob says, we take off our hats to you, chum bumpus, and now, while dinner is cooking, just gather around the fire and tell us the whole blooming story," saying which davy led the returned hero of the occasion to the seat of honor. the story was all told over again, both during the eating of the meal, and afterwards. in fact it took almost two hours to get most of the facts out. then they concluded to hold the prisoners until the next morning, when they would be breaking camp, to head into the valleys of the rocky mountains, the tops of which reared themselves in great granite masses against the western sky. "we'll probably have a good enough time the rest of our vacation out here," said giraffe, later on, "but you can be sure we'll never again see such a string of exciting adventures as fell to our lot, and that of bumpus, when he was hunting through the big timber for a bear; and the rest of us searching for a lost tenderfoot scout." but giraffe was really mistaken when he ventured to make this prophecy; for it was written that the members of the silver fox patrol were to meet with still another series of mishaps and adventures before they left for home. what these were, and how cleverly thad and his chums carried themselves under trying conditions, will be found set down in the pages of the next volume in this series, now ready under the title of "the boy scouts in the rockies; or the secret of the hidden silver mine." that very evening who should come along but toby smathers himself. he had been ranging through that section, really to find out what hank dodge and pierre laporte were doing; and seeing the camp had hastened to join the scouts feeling a longing for human company. thad liked the forest ranger right from the start, and was very much pleased when the other agreed to go with them as guide during the balance of the time they expected to spend in the rockies--several weeks at least. toby smathers gave the two men to understand that their every movement was being watched by agents of the aroused government. the interior department was determined to put an end to timber stealing on a large scale by men who had grown enormously rich in the business. hank and pierre professed to be alarmed; and when they went away in the morning to get their guns, which thad had left ten miles off, they declared they were going to reform, and either go into the mines, or else emigrate to british columbia. "but," said toby smathers, "they ain't goin' to do it, mark me. them critters are cut out for jail-birds, and they'll either bring up thar, or else die with their boots on." "well, all i hope is," said thad, as he gave mike, the pack mule, a touch with the whip to start him moving, "that we never cross their trail again." * * * * * * transcriber's note: obvious typographical errors were corrected without comment. dialect and non-standard spellings were left unchanged. a table of contents was added for the convenience of the reader. the boy scouts' first camp fire or scouting with the silver fox patrol. by herbert carter author of "the boy scouts in the blue ridge," "the boy scouts on the trail," "the boy scouts in the maine woods," "the boy scouts through the big timber," "the boy scouts in the rockies." [illustration: a. l. burt company new york] copyright by a. l. burt company * * * * * the boy scouts' first camp fire. [illustration: the announcement of the bear by davy jones was succeeded by a mad scramble of every boy to reach a place of safety. page . _the boy scouts' first camp fire._] the boy scouts' first camp-fire. chapter i. a halt by the roadside. "tara--tara!" loud and clear sounded the notes of a bugle, blown by a very stout lad, clad in a new suit of khaki; and who was one of a bunch of boy scouts tramping wearily along a dusty road. "good for you, bumpus! can't he just make that horn talk, though?" cried one. "sounds as sweet as the church bell at home, fellows!" declared a second. "say, mr. scout-master, does that mean a halt for grub?" a third called out. "sure, giraffe. brace up old fellow. you'll have your jaws working right soon, now. and here's a dandy little spring, right among the trees! how shady and cool it looks, thad." "that's why we kept on for an hour after noon," remarked the boy called thad, and who seemed to be a person of some authority; "when all you scouts wanted to stop and rest. you see davy, allan here, and myself made a note of that same spring the other day, when we came along on horseback, spying out the lay of the land." "well, now," remarked the boy called davy, as he threw himself down to stretch; "that's what our instruction book says,--a true scout always has his eyes and ears open to see and hear everything. the more things you can remember in a store window, after only a minute to look, the further up you are, see?" the boy called thad not only wore a rather seedy and faded scout khaki uniform; while those of all his comrades were almost brand new; but he had several merit badges fastened on the left side of his soft shirt. these things would indicate that thad brewster must have been connected with some patrol, or troop of boy scouts, in the town where he formerly lived before his father, dying, left him in charge of the queer old bachelor uncle who was known far and wide among the boys of scranton as plain "daddy brewster"--nobody ever understood why, save that he just loved all manner of young people. in fact, it was a memory of the good times which he had enjoyed in the past that influenced thad to start the ball rolling for a troop of scouts in scranton. in this endeavor he had found energetic backing; and the silver fox patrol of the troop was now starting out upon its first hike, to be gone several days. several of the eight boys forming this patrol were lagging more or less along the dusty road; for the brisk walk on this summer day had tired them considerably. at the cheery notes of the bugle, blown by "bumpus" hawtree, the stray ones in uniform quickened their pace, so as to close up. of course the stout youth had another name, and a very good one too, having been christened cornelius jasper. but his chums had long ago almost forgotten it, and as bumpus he was known far and wide. he was a good-natured chap, clumsy in his way, but always willing to oblige, and exceedingly curious. indeed, his mates in the patrol declared bumpus ought to have been born a girl, as he always wanted to "poke his nose into anything queer that happened to attract his attention." and this failing, of course, was going to get bumpus into a lot of trouble, sooner or later. his one best quality was a genuine love for music. he could play any sort of instrument; and had besides a wonderfully sweet high soprano voice, which he was always ready to use for the pleasure of his friends. that promised many a happy night around the camp-fire, when once the silver fox patrol had become fully established. and this love of music which the fat boy possessed had made the selection of a bugler for cranford troop the easiest thing possible. he actually had no competitor. presently the entire eight lads had thrown themselves down in such positions as seemed to appeal to them. some lay flat on their stomachs, and drank from the overflow of the fine little spring; while others scooped up the water in the cup formed by the palms of their hands. one rather tall boy, with flaxen hair, and light dreamy blue eyes, took out his handkerchief, carefully dusted the ground where he meant to sit, then having deposited himself in a satisfactory manner, he opened the haversack he had been carrying, taking out some of the contents very carefully. "my! but they're packed smartly, all right, smithy," remarked the fellow who had responded to the name of davy jones; "you certainly take a heap of trouble to have things just so. my duds were just tossed in as they came. threatened to jump on 'em so as to crowd the bunch in tighter. what are you looking for now?" "why, my drinking cup, to be sure," replied the other, lifting his eyebrows in surprise, as if he could not understand why any one would be so silly as to lie down and drink--just like an animal, when nice little aluminum collapsible cups could be procured so cheaply. and having presently found what he wanted, he deliberately returned each article to its proper place in the carryall before he allowed himself the pleasure of a cooling drink. but at least he had one satisfaction; being the possessor of a cup allowed him the privilege of dipping directly into the fountain head, the limpid spring itself. they called him just plain "smithy," but of course such an elegant fellow had a handle to the latter part of his name. it was edmund maurice travers smith; but you could never expect a parcel of american boys to bother with such a tremendous tongue-twisting name as that. hence the smithy. while the whole patrol, taking out the lunch that had been provided, and which one of them, evidently from the south from the soft tones of his voice, called a "snack," were eating we might as well be making the acquaintance of the rest. the southern lad was named robert quail white. a few of his chums addressed him as plain bob; but the oddity of the combination appealed irresistibly to their sense of humor, and "bob white" it became from that time on. sometimes they called to him with the well-known whistle of a quail; and he always responded. there was a very tall fellow, with a remarkably long neck. "giraffe" he had become when years younger, and the name was likely to stick to him even after he got into college. when his attention was called to anything, conrad stedman usually stretched his neck in a way that gave him a great advantage over his fellows. he was sometimes a little touchy; but gave promise of proving himself a good scout, being willing to learn, faithful, and obliging. another of the patrol had a rather melancholy look. this was stephen bingham. he might have gone to the end of the chapter as plain steve; but when a little fellow at school, upon being asked his name, he had pronounced it as if a compound word; and ever since he was known as step-hen bingham. whenever he felt like sending his companions into fits of laughter step-hen would show the whites of his eyes, and look frightened. he could never find his things, and was forever appealing to the others to know whether they had seen some article he had misplaced. step-hen evidently had much to learn before he could qualify for the degree of a first-class scout. the one who seemed to be second in command of the little detachment was a quiet looking boy. allan hollister had been raised after a fashion that as he said "gave him the bumps of experience." part of his life had been spent in the adirondacks and in maine; so that he really knew by actual participation in the work what the other lads were learning from the books they read. he lived with his mother, said to be a widow. they seemed to have plenty of money; but allan was often sighing, as though somehow his thoughts turned back to former scenes, and he longed to return to maine again. here then was the complete roster of the silver fox patrol of cranford troop, as called by the secretary, bob white, at each and every meeting. . thad brewster, patrol leader, and assistant scout-master. . allan hollister, upon whom the responsibility rested after thad. . cornelius hawtree. . robert quail white. . edmund maurice travers smith. . conrad stedman. . davy jones. . stephen bingham. of course, as the rules of the organization provided, there was a genuine scout-master to accompany the boys when possible, and look after their moral welfare; as well as act as a brake upon the natural exuberance of their spirits. this was a young man who was studying medicine with dr. calkins in the town of cranford. frequently the clever young m.d. could not keep his appointments with his boys; at such times he had to delegate to thad his duties. and to tell the truth when they learned that as the elder doctor was sick himself, their scout-master would be unable to accompany them on this, their first real hike and outing, none of the scouts felt very sorry. "pretty near time we started again for the lake, isn't it, thad?" demanded step-hen, something like an hour after they had stopped to break the march with a bite and a cool drink. "oh! please let me finish this little grub," called out giraffe, who was tremendously fond of eating; "it's a shame to waste it. you stopped me from making a fire you know, thad; and i fell behind the rest of you that way." "i never saw such a fellow, always crazy to set fire to things," remarked davy jones. "he'll burn the whole world up some day." "i expect to set the river on fire when i get in business," grinned giraffe. "give the signal to fall in, mr. bugler--but i say, where _is_ bumpus anyway?" asked the acting scout-master, looking around. "oh! he went wandering away some time ago," remarked davy. "but here's his horn; let's see if i can blow the old thing." he put the shining instrument to his lips, puffed out his cheeks, and emitted a frightful groaning sound. the rest of the scouts had just started to laugh when there came a strange, rattling noise from the woods near by, as though a landslide might be in progress. and accompanying the racket they heard a feeble voice that must belong to bumpus, though no one recognized it, calling out: "help! help! oh, somebody come quick, and save me!" with that call every member of the scout patrol leaped erect, staring at one another in dismay. chapter ii. the prisoner of the tree stump. "oh! perhaps a wolf has got poor bumpus!" exclaimed smithy, who had never had any real experience in the woods, and was therefore a genuine "greenhorn" scout. "or a bear!" suggested step-hen. thad was not the one to stand and speculate, when a comrade appeared to be in deep trouble, so he immediately cried out: "get your staves, and come along, everybody; no; you stay with our knapsacks, to guard them, bob white. this may be some trick of brose griffin and his cronies to steal our stuff. this way, the rest of you, boys!" "hurrah!" shouted step-hen, showing great animation; but cautiously falling in the rear of the procession that went rushing into the depths of the woods. "which way did it come from, thad?" asked smithy; who, despite his girl-like neatness of person and belongings, and dainty ways, was close to the leader, his face whiter than usual, but his eyes flashing with unaccustomed fire. "i think over in this direction," said davy jones, before the leader could reply. "listen!" commanded thad, as he held up his hand, bringing them all to a halt. straining their ears, each scout tried to catch some sound that would give him the privilege of being the first to point to the spot where bumpus was in sore need of assistance. "i think i heard a groan!" remarked step-hen, in an awe-struck voice, that trembled in spite of his effort to seem brave. "so did i," declared allan; "and it was over yonder to the left." accordingly the six boys went helter-skelter into the underbrush, making all the noise an elephant might in pushing through the woods. perhaps it was only the result of their eagerness to reach the companion, who seemed to be in trouble; and then again, a racket like that might frighten away any wild beast that had attempted to carry their stout bugler away. "stop again, and listen," said thad, half a minute later. "we must be near the place where that groan came from. hear it again, anybody?" "help! oh, help! they're eating me alive!" came in a muffled voice from some unknown place near by. thrilled by the words, and half expecting to see some savage monster struggling with their fellow scout, the six boys stared about them in dismay. not the first sign could they see of either bumpus or the attacking beast. "where under the sun can he be?" exclaimed giraffe. "perhaps it was a big eagle, or a hawk; and it's carried him up into a tree!" suggested step-hen; and strange to say, no one even laughed at the silly idea. "allan has guessed it!" cried smithy, who had chanced to see a little smile chase across the face of the boy from maine. "where is he, then?" asked thad, wheeling on his second in command. "i think if you move over to that big old tree-trunk yonder, you'll find bumpus, sir," replied allan, making the scout salute; for he believed in carrying out the rules of the organization when on duty, as at present. "but we can see the whole thing from top to bottom, and never a sign of bumpus anywhere?" remarked step-hen, doubtfully. "and he ain't such a little chap that he could hide under the bark of a dead tree either," remarked davy, scornfully. thad was already advancing upon the stump in question. perhaps he had caught the hidden meaning to allan's words; and could give a pretty good guess as to why the other smiled. "surround the stump, scouts!" he ordered; and the boys immediately started to obey, holding their stout staves in readiness to resist an attack, if so be some unseen wild beast made a sudden leap. "say, it's all a mistake; there ain't a blessed thing here!" grumbled step-hen, when, after reaching a point on the other side of the immense stump, he could see the entire surface of its trunk, some three feet through, possibly more. "yes there is; and i want to get out the worst kind! ouch! they're biting me like hot cakes! i'm getting poisoned, i know i am! oh! dear!" came the muffled voice that they knew belonged to bumpus. "whoop! he's _in_ the old stump!" shouted davy jones, starting to grin broadly. "that's right," replied the unseen bumpus; "but please don't stand there, and guy a poor feller, boys. do something for me before i'm a goner. oh! how they are going for me though! i'm beginning to swell up like anything! be quick, thad, allan, and the rest of you!" "but what's biting him, do you think?" said step-hen, looking serious again. "can it be rattlesnakes, thad, or bumble-bees?" "hardly," replied the other, readily; "i'd expect rather that it was ants. what do you say, allan?" "no doubt of it," came from the boy who had practical experience in the ways of the woods. "they like to make their nests in old dead trees. but ask bumpus." evidently the boy who was imprisoned inside the stump of the forest monarch must have heard every word spoken by his mates, without, for he instantly called aloud: "yes, that's what it is, ants, and they are fierce, i tell you. i'm covered all over right now with lumps as big as hickory nuts. be quick, boys, and get me out!" "how under the sun d'ye think he ever got inside that stump; for the life of me i can't see any hole down here?" davy asked, wonderingly. "he must have fallen in through the top," replied allan, casting a quick glance up toward the place in question. "the old thing's hollow, and it gave way under bumpus." "sure, that's the way!" called out the unseen sufferer, eagerly. "get a move on you, fellers. i want to breathe some fresh air, and take some stuff for all these poisonous bites." "but what were you doing up that stump?" demanded step-hen; while thad and allan were examining the remains of the once proud tree, as if to decide what ought to be done, in order to rescue the unlucky scout. "i know what ails bumpus," cried davy; "his old curiosity bump was working overtime, and coaxed him to climb up there." "well, how'd i know the old thing'd give in with me like that?" protested the other, faintly. "i saw a bee going in a hole up there; and you know i'm just crazy to find a wild bees' nest in a hollow tree, because i dote on honey. but i was mistaken about that; it's ants biting me; because i caught one on my cheek after he'd taken a nibble. oh! ain't they making me a sight, though? where's thad? i hope you don't just go on, and leave me here to die, boys. please get busy!" "just hold up a little, bumpus," called thad, cheerily. "we haven't any rope to pull you up again; and besides, allan says the top of the rotten stump would like as not give way, if anybody tried to stand on it. but i've sent giraffe back to the spring after the ax we carried. we'll just have to cut a hole, and let you climb out that way." "but be careful not to give me a jab, won't you, please, thad?" asked the other, between his groans. "i'm bad enough off as it is, without losing a leg." "don't be afraid," replied the scout-master; "we're going to let allan do the job, and few fellows know how to handle an ax as well as he does. and here's the tool right now; giraffe made pretty quick time." "but what do you want me to do?" asked the prisoner of the stump, piteously. "why, here's a hole already, big enough for me to stick my hand in; feel that, do you, bumpus?" and thad inserted his hand, to clutch the leg of the other. "oh! how you scared me at first, thad; i sure thought it was a wildcat, or something, that had grabbed me. i'm trembling all over, what with the bites, the tumble, and the excitement." "now keep as far back from this side as you can," continued the other. "is the hollow big enough to allow that, bumpus?" "it surely is, thad," replied the other, somewhat more cheerfully, as if the confident manner in which thad went about his business reassured him. "guess there must be nearly a foot of space between." "that's fine," thad went on to say; "now keep back, and leave it all to allan. he's going to commence chopping." immediately there sounded the stroke of the descending ax. "huh! went all the way through, that time," said step-hen, who was watching the operation closely; "reckon the old tree must be as rotten as punk." "make a dandy blaze, all right," ventured giraffe, whose mind was bent on fires, so that he never lost a chance for making one; and who loved to sit and watch it burn, much as the old fire worshippers might have done in long-ago times. "take care, allan," remarked thad; "don't strike so hard next time. why, you'll knock a hole in that stump in a jiffy. it's only a shell." "i could drop the whole thing in fifteen minutes, believe me," answered the boy who wielded the ax so cleverly, having learned the trick from the native woodsmen up in maine, his native state. again the sharp-edged tool descended; and the hole grew considerably larger. the prisoner kept urging them to make more haste, and exclaim that he was swelling up so fast as a result of his bites, that he'd soon be unable to crawl out, even if half the tree trunk were chopped away. but allan was a methodical chap, and could not be urged into carelessness when making use of such a dangerous tool as a keen-edged ax. he chopped close to the imaginary line he had drawn; and as large chips fell in a shower the aperture increased in size until they could see the lower limbs of the prisoner. "can't you drop down on your hands and knees, bumpus?" called thad. "i should think the hole was big enough now to let you get out." "oh! i'll try," wailed the other; "i'm willing to do anything you say, thad, if only you can patch me up, and keep me from bursting. there, i did manage to squeeze down on my knees; but i don't believe i can ever get through." "we're willing to help you, old fellow," remarked davy, as he seized hold of a hand; while step-hen took the other; and between them they pulled, while bumpus used his legs to kick backward; and finally he was dragged triumphantly out of his strange prison. but when the boys saw his swollen face they stopped their loud laughing; for although the fat boy tried to grin good-naturedly, he was such a sight that pity took the place of merriment in the hearts of his chums. the vicious ants had really bitten his cheeks so that they were swollen up very much, and bumpus looked like a boy with the mumps. chapter iii. the accusation made by step-hen. "am i going to swell up any more, thad; and will you just have to put hoops on me to keep me from bursting?" asked bumpus, earnestly. the other fellows wanted to laugh, but to their credit be it said that they restrained this feeling. it would be heartless, with poor bumpus looking so badly. "oh! don't get that notion into your head," said the young leader; for as assistant scout-master, in the absence of dr. philander, thad was supposed to take charge of the troop, and assume all his duties; "here, fellows, bring him along back to the spring. i've got something in my haversack the doctor gave me, that ought to help bumpus." "was it meant for ant bites, thad, do you know?" asked the victim, as he allowed his comrades to urge him along slowly; while he rubbed, first one part of his person, and then another, as the various swellings stung in succession. "well, he really said it was to be used in case any of us got scratched by a wild animal, and there was danger of poisoning; but it strikes me it would be a good antiseptic, he called it, in this case." having reached the spot where bob white still faithfully stood guard over their few belongings, thad hurriedly threw open his bundle, and took out a little package carefully wrapped up. it contained rolls of soft white linen to be used for bandages in case of need; adhesive plaster, also in small rolls; and a few common remedies such as camphor, arnica, and the like, intended for ailments boys may invite when overeating, or partaking too freely of green apples. "here it is," he remarked, holding up a small bottle. "how purple it looks," observed davy jones, curiously; "and what's this on the label, here. 'permaganate of potash, no. ; to be painted on the scratch; and used several times if necessary.' that's doc. philander's writing, sure." "it looks pretty tough," commented giraffe. "the remedy is sometimes worse than the disease, they say," remarked smithy. "you don't think it'll hurt much, do you, thad?" asked the victim, trying to smile, but unable, on account of his swollen cheeks. "not a bit, i understand," came the reassuring reply. "besides, i should think that you wouldn't hold back, even if it did, bumpus. you're in a bad way, and i've just got to counteract that poison before your eyes close up." "go on, use the whole bottle if you want to," urged the alarmed boy. "the only bad thing about it is that this stuff stains like fun, and you'll be apt to look like a wild indian for a day or two," thad observed, as he started to apply the potash with a small camel's hair brush brought for the purpose. "little i care about that, so long as it does the business," replied bumpus; and so the amateur doctor continued to dab each bite with the lavender-colored fluid until the patient looked as though he might be some strange freak intended for a dime museum. of course that was too much for the other boys. they snickered behind their hands, and presently broke out into a yell that awoke the echoes. bumpus only nodded his head at them, for he was a very good-natured fellow. "laugh away and welcome, boys," he remarked, grimly. "feels better already, thad, and if the stuff will only do the business i don't care what happens. besides, the fellows must have their fun. but they wouldn't think it a joke if any of them had climbed up, looking for a honey pot, and dropped through the rotten stuff that covered the hole in the top of that stump." "well," said step-hen, "if it had been our monkey, now. he'd have had a great time climbing out; but davy could have done it; he's more at home in a tree than on the ground." he said this because the jones boy was as nimble as an ape when he found an opportunity to show off his gymnastics; he dearly loved to hang from a limb by his toes, and carry on like a circus athlete or trapeze performer. "do we make a start now?" asked bob white; "exactly fifteen minutes spent, suh, in rescuing our comrade in distress." "are you able to walk with us, bumpus?" asked thad. "oh! i guess i can amble along somehow," responded the fat boy; "but please detail a couple of scouts to keep near me, in case i begin to swell again. i'm sorry we haven't got a rope along; because i'd feel safer if i had one wrapped around me right now." "where's my campaign hat?" burst out step-hen just then; "anybody seen it layin' around loose? i declare to goodness it's queer how _my_ things always seem to disappear. i often think there must be some magic about it." "huh! the only trouble is you never keep a blessed thing where it belongs," declared davy, in scorn. "now, there's smithy, who goes to just the opposite extreme; he's too particular, and wastes time, which a true scout should never do. the rest of us try to be half-way decent; and you notice we seldom lose anything. there's your old hat right now, just where you flung it when we dropped down here." "oh! thank you, davy; perhaps i am just a little careless, as you say; but all the same it's funny how _my_ things always go. hope, now, i don't lose that splendid little aluminum compass i bought the other day, thinking that it might save me from getting lost in the woods some time." "oh! come along, old slow-poke, we're going to start there's bumpus trying to screw his lips into a pucker right now, so he can blow the bugle. ain't he got the grit, though, to attend to his business with that swollen face?" presently, after the inspiring notes of the bugle had sounded, the patrol once more took up its line of march. each scout had his staff in his hand, and carried a haversack on his back. blankets they had none, for all those necessary things had been entrusted to the care of a farmer, whose route home from early market took him near the intended camping place on lake omega; a beautiful, if wild looking sheet of water some miles in length, and situated about ten from cranford town. allan and thad headed the procession that soon straggled in couples along the side of the dusty road. "what made you mention the name of brose griffin when you detailed number four to remain at the camp?" asked allan, who had evidently been thinking about this same thing. "well," replied the scout-master, "it flashed into my mind that these tough fellows might have dogged us up here, to play some of their tricks on us when in camp; and that holding bumpus was meant to draw the rest off, so they could run away with our haversacks, which they knew must contain lots of things we couldn't well get on without in camp." "smithy couldn't if his hair brush and his little whisk broom were missing," declared allan, with a chuckle. "why, that boy seems to only live to fight against dirt. he's the most particular fellow i ever knew." "oh! wait and see how he gets over that before he's been a scout two months," said thad, also laughing. "nothing like the rough and ready life in camp and on the march to cure a boy of being over-clean. he'd never learn any different at home, you know, because his mother is the same way, and brought him up pretty much like a girl. but he's reached the point now where the true boy nature is beginning to get the better of that false pride." "but seriously, thad, do you believe we'll see anything of brose griffin and his two shadows, bangs and hop?" "i certainly hope we won't," replied the other; "but you know what they are; and i've been told that they went around asking all sorts of questions about where we intended to make our first camp-fire. it wouldn't surprise me much if they did try to give us trouble." "what will we do if it happens that way?" asked allan. "defend ourselves, to be sure," replied the scout-master, promptly, as he gave a weed a snap with his staff that cut its top off neatly. "but scouts are not supposed to fight; that is one of the principles of the organization," allan remarked. "in a way you're right," replied the other, slowly; "that is, no true scout will ever seek a fight; but there may be times when he has to enter into one in order to defend himself, or save a comrade from being badly hurt. you know the twelve rules we all subscribed to when we joined the silver fox patrol, allan? suppose you run them over right now?" "oh! that's easy," laughed the second in command. "a scout must be trustworthy, loyal, helpful to others, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient to his superiors, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent." "well, in order to be brave, and helpful to others, he may even have to fight; but he is expected only to resort to such extreme measures when every other means fail. and if those three roughs come playing their jokes around our camp we'll try and speak decently with them first. then, if that doesn't work, they'd better look out." the way thad snapped his teeth shut when saying those last few words told what he would be apt to do if forced into the last ditch by circumstances over which he had no control. "i hope we can coax giraffe to quit trying to make fires all the time," said allan. "it's a dangerous thing to do in the woods. why, up in maine every hunter has to employ a licensed guide just to make sure he doesn't leave a camp-fire burning behind him when he breaks camp, which the rising wind would scatter into the brush, so that valuable timber would be burned, and heaps of damage done. i've stood my turn as a fire guard myself in the fall, and was hired by the state too." "listen, would you?" said thad, just then; "what do you suppose is the matter between bumpus and step-hen now? the chances are he's gone and lost something again and is accusing poor old bumpus of taking it. let's wait for them here, and settle the trouble." the two in question brought up the van of the trailing patrol. as they came along step-hen was venting his disgust as usual over the "mighty queer way" _his_ things had of vanishing without anybody ever touching them. "what's gone now, step-hen?" asked thad, as they came up, still wrangling. "why, just to think," called out bumpus, "he says i never gave him back that new compass of his, after he showed me how it worked, before we started on this hike; and i say i did. as if i'd want to take his silly compass, when i learned how to tell north from the mossy side of a tree, and the way the sun hangs out up there." "well, i just can't find it on me anywhere," complained step-hen; "and as i remembered showing it to bumpus, i thought he was setting up a game on me by hiding it somewhere about him. he wouldn't let me look in his pack, either, you know." "course i wouldn't!" cried the fat boy, indignantly; "because that'd look like i half admitted the charge. guess i know enough about law to understand that. just you think real hard, step-hen, and p'raps you'll remember where you put it; but don't throw it up at me, please." the other grumbled something, but made no further charge. from the suspicious way in which he looked at bumpus out of the corners of his eyes, it was plain that his mind was far from convinced, and that missing compass would be apt to make trouble during the whole trip. chapter iv. when the fire was kindled. "how are you feeling now, bumpus?" asked thad, some time later, as he once more stopped to allow all the stragglers pull up; for some of the boys were beginning to look rather fagged, though they tried to hide the telltale signs, being too proud to own up to any weakness that ill became a scout. "pretty ragged, to tell the truth," replied the fat boy, who was puffing as he came along. "it ain't the poison i've absorbed in my system, so much as a weakness that just makes me shiver all over. and thad, i've walked this far before, and never felt like this, either." "oh! i expected that you'd have that sort of a spell," remarked the other. "you see, that tumble, and the shock of feeling something biting you, that was terrible because you were in the dark, must have given your nervous system a bad jolt. but keep up if you can, bumpus. in a little while now we'll be near the lake, and our first camp." "and just think of it, boys, what a roaring old fire we'll have to-night," spoke up giraffe, craning his long neck to glance around the circle that had gathered about the leader. "you'll just leave all that to me, giraffe," said the patrol leader, sternly. "here we are about to get into our first camp, and begin to take up the duties all scouts ought to learn, so they can take care of themselves, and be of help to others in the woods. and let me tell you, the first camp-fire is too serious a thing for you to start it off-hand. so i positively forbid you to think of using a single match to-night without permission." giraffe shrank back, looking crushed. he had been building high hopes on having unlimited chances for carrying out his favorite diversion, once away from the restraints of civilization. but he must learn by degrees, possibly through sad experience, that a fire is just as terrible in the wilderness, once it gets beyond control, as in a settled community. it is a good servant, but a very bad master. "how far is the lake from here, would you say, thad?" asked davy jones. "not over two miles," was the reply. "you notice that the country is getting wilder the further we go. and around lake omega they say it beats everything, for you can't see a single house." "how does it come that this lake, lying so close to cranford, has never been visited by any of you fellows?" asked bob white, who, being a comparative newcomer, like allan and thad, could not be supposed to know as much about things as the rest of the scouts, who had been born in cranford, and brought up there. "why, you see for a long time all this country up here was owned by a rich man, who meant to make a game preserve out of it. he even had a high wire fence built around part of the tract, including the lake, and kept game keepers here, so nobody could get in to steal a single fish. but he died before he ever had a chance to finish the job; and his widow sold the ground to a lumber concern, that never cared a thing for game. chances are there'll be some high old hunting around up here this fall; and i'm going to get in on it if i can." it was davy jones who gave this information. he had a father who was said to be a very smart lawyer; and davy bade fair to follow in his footsteps. at least, the boy was never asleep when anything was going on; and he could easily subscribe to that scout injunction which requires that a boy keep his eyes and ears open, in order to learn things the ordinary person would never see nor hear. once more they took up the march, bumpus being a little refreshed from the halt. a couple of the other fellows kept near him from now on, and even linked arms with the fat boy, who was universally well liked on account of his disposition being sunny, no matter whether in fair weather or in storm. along about four in the afternoon a shout arose. "i see water ahead!" yelled giraffe, who had managed to get in ahead of the others. "well, with that neck you ought to be able to see anything," called out bumpus, from further back in the line. "i guess i could see whether a bee went into a hole in a stump, or just swung past," retorted the other. "but there's your lake, fellows; and we're right close up on the same, now. just look through that opening in the trees; see the sun shining on the little waves. say, don't it look fine, though? talking about fires--but that'll keep," as he saw the patrol leader turn his eyes quickly upon him. every one felt like quickening his pace, even the weary bumpus. step-hen seemed especially solicitous about the welfare of his stout comrade, for he kept hovering near him, offering to lend his arm, or do any other kindly act. bumpus eyed him a little suspiciously, as though he had an idea the other might have some dark motive in being so extra kind. "see here, step-hen," he declared once, when the other slipped an arm through his and helped him on his way; "i reckon you're thinking that if you're good to me i'll own up to taking that beastly little compass of yours, eh? well, just get that notion out of your head, won't you? because i ain't goin' to confess to something i never did. and don't you say compass to me again, hear?" "oh! never mind," said step-hen, very sweetly, for him, and with a curious smile that made the fat boy uneasy; "of course if you say you didn't keep it, there must be some mistake; only it seems mighty funny how _my_ things are always disappearing, and the rest of you get off scot free. but don't bother about it, bumpus; sure the thing is bound to turn up somewhere. only i hope i find it before i go and get lost in the forest. i always was afraid of that, you know. i'll try and forget all about compasses. here, lean on me a little harder if you want to. i ain't tired a whit, and can stand it." but bumpus was able to walk alone. truth to tell he fancied step-hen was trying to frisk him all over, as if endeavoring to locate the position of some object that might feel like the missing compass. "there's the stuff the farmer brought, fellows!" said thad, presently. it had been dumped alongside the road at a certain place marked by the two who had come up here on a spying trip beforehand. each boy took what he could carry, and in this way the entire equipment was carried down to a camp site on the shore of the splendid body of water known as lake omega. "that word omega means the end, don't it?" said davy jones, as they started to put up one of the two tents, and gather the provisions, blankets, cooking utensils and such things together. "i hope it won't be the end of any of us," chuckled giraffe, who had been casting furtive looks around, as if searching for an ideal spot on which he hoped the first camp-fire would be built. "well, every fellow who doesn't know how to swim has got to get busy, and learn the first thing," said the patrol leader, looking toward smithy meaningly. "oh! i want to know how, thad, believe me," returned that worthy, earnestly. "my mother doesn't believe any fellow should go near the water until he knows how to swim; but how could he ever learn in that case, i'd like to know?" "fix himself up in a tree, and strike out!" suggested davy, to whom a tree appealed very frequently as the first way out of any trouble. "now, you're away off there, suh," broke in bob white, smiling; "he should immediately proceed to get in touch with one of those schools that teach everything through the mails; and take his dives off the dining-room table." it was at least satisfying to see how, under the management of the two experienced leaders, thad and allan, the tents were soon raised. then several of the boys were set to work digging around the upper half outside the canvas. "what's all this for, mr. scout-master?" asked smithy, as he laid an old newspaper on the ground to kneel on, and began digging away with the hatchet; having actually drawn on a pair of new working gloves made of canvas, in order to keep his hands from getting soiled. "why, in case of a sudden and heavy rain, we'd be in danger of having a flood rush through the tents if we didn't make this gutter or sluice to throw it off. notice that it's on the upper side only. and while you're finishing here, boys, allan and myself will make the stone fireplace where we expect to do pretty much all our cooking. the big camp-fire is another thing entirely, and we'll let you all have a hand in building that of logs and brush." so they constructed a long fireplace of stones easily found along the shore of the lake; it looked a little like a letter v, in that one end was wider than the other. and across the smaller end a stone was placed as a support for the coffee-pot which would occupy a position in that quarter, the frying-pan needing considerably more room. taking pattern from this first fireplace some of the other scouts, ambitious to try their hand at making such a useful adjunct to camp life, fashioned a second one close by. for the patrol was to be divided into two sections, when the matter of cooking was concerned. the sun was sinking low behind the hills when the matter of supper was agitated. giraffe was calling for something to stay the terrible sense of hunger he declared was making him feel weak. this thing of not being able to sneak into the home pantry between meals was already giving him trouble; and evidently giraffe would have to lay in a greater stock when the regular chance arose, or else go hungry. finally, however, those who did the cooking on this first night, thad and allan they chanced to be, announced that the meal was ready. so, to carry out the idea of being under rules and regulations, the bugler was told to sound the assembly call, though every member of the patrol hovered close by, ready to fall to with the eagerness of half famished wolves. then came the job of making ready for their first camp-fire. that was a matter of such tremendous importance in the eyes of all that every fellow had to share in bringing the fuel, and helping to stack it, according to the directions of allan. no one worked with greater eagerness than giraffe. he was fairly wild to see the red flames dancing upward, and the sparks sailing off on the faint night air, as though they carried messages from the camp of the boy scouts to some distant port unseen from that lower world. and when finally all was ready, the young scout-master after grouping his followers around the heap, solemnly took a brand from one of the cooking fires, and with a flourish applied it to the inflammable tinder. immediately the crackling flames shot up through the stuff prepared, and in another minute there arose a brilliant pyramid of fire that caused the neighboring trees to stand out like red ghosts. and then arose a shout from eight lusty young throats, as the silver fox patrol danced around the first camp-fire of their new organization. that was an event long to be remembered, and to be written down in the annals of the outing with becoming ceremony. chapter v. an uninvited guest. what a truly glorious hour that was, as those eight lads sat around the splendid camp-fire, chatting, asking questions, and giving information, as it happened they were able. of course thad and allan were usually called upon to explain the thousand and one things connected with woods life, as yet sealed mysteries to those of the patrol who were experiencing their very first camping out. some of the other six had doubtless made fires in the woods after a fashion, and possibly tried to cook fish over the same, with poor success. bob white admitted that he had often been in the mountains with some of the men who worked on his father's place, and had spent lots of nights afoot in the blue ridge; so that he could not really be called a "tenderfoot scout." but bumpus and smithy were very green; davy jones knew but little more; and as for step-hen and giraffe, they would not commit themselves, watching every move the leaders made, as though hoping to pick up information in this way that could be used at another time, and which would stamp them as real woodsmen. to all appearances bumpus had entirely forgotten all about his suspicions toward step-hen. malice he could not harbor any great length of time toward any one, his nature being too broad and forgiving. but in the midst of an earnest discussion between several of the scouts on the subject of indian picture writing, which it is recommended all scouts should learn as a very useful and interesting means for communicating with companions who may be late on the road, bumpus gave out a roar. "hey! guess you think my eyes got closed up by that swelling, didn't you, step-hen bingham? now, whatever are you sneaking my knapsack off like that, for? want to search it, perhaps, to see if that old compass you left behind could a got in there? well, you put it back right away; and keep your hands off my property, or i'll complain to the scout-master, see if i don't. what would i want your compass for, tell me that?" "i thought you might have hid it just to tease me, bumpus," grumbled the detected one, as he hastened to hang the bag back where he had found it. "all right," returned bumpus, falling back lazily, again; "you don't choose to accept my word for it when i say i ain't got it; and so you can take it out any old way you want. but don't you bother me again about that compass, hear?" some of the boys began in due time to yawn, at first slily; and then as they saw others openly gaping, they forgot to hide it behind their hand. "pretty near time we thought of making up our beds, ain't it?" inquired giraffe; who secretly wondered how he was ever going to tear himself away from sitting there, his hands clasped around his shins, and admiring that magnificent sight of the fire eating up the dry fuel that was fed to it in liberal doses. "yes, after i've gone the rounds, to see how well our stock of provisions has been protected," replied the scout-master, getting upon his feet. "we've got it stowed pretty much in the two tents, suh," remarked bob white, to whom this particular duty had been detailed. "think any wild animal might try and raid the camp, and get away with some of our grub?" asked bumpus, a little uneasily. "oh! hardly that," laughed thad; "but one of the duties of a scout is never to just take things for granted. he must be wise enough to make provision against any ordinary happening that might come about. in other words he insures his stock of provisions like a sensible merchant does his goods. he doesn't expect to have a fire, you know; but he wants to be sure he won't be ruined if one does come." "huh! he'd have to pay a pretty big premium on insurance if it was known that step-hen bingham was around, then," remarked davy, meaningly. "i'm going to tell you more about that picture writing another time, fellows," allan remarked, as he proceeded to get his blanket out of the pile, and fold it double, just as he wanted it. "you'll say it's a fine thing too. perhaps we can get a chance to try it out at the time we send a good swimmer over to the island in the lake, to signal with the flags and looking-glass." the rest of the boys immediately busied themselves with their blankets too; for when in camp they are pretty much like a flock of sheep, and will follow their leader, or bell-wether, without questioning. presently a cry arose, and it came from davy jones. "say, look at that smithy, would you; bless me if he ain't got some _white sheets_, and a regular nightgown. now, what dye think of that, fellows? are we going to allow such sissy goings-on in this, our first camp? he'd hoodoo the whole business, sure. no luck with such baby play. use the sheets for towels when we go in swimming; i've got an extra pair of pajamas along, that i'll lend him, if he promises to be a true scout, ready to rough and ready it in camp. next thing he'll be pulling out a nightcap to keep from getting cold!" all of them were laughing by now. as for smithy, he looked as if he could not understand what all the fuss was about. "why, i always sleep this way at home," he stammered, as he glanced around at his hilarious comrades. "perhaps you do," jeered davy jones, who could take hard knocks without any whimper; "but mother's darling boy ain't home right now. a true scout must learn to sleep in his blanket alone. an old boot will do for a pillow; and he won't ever want to be rocked to sleep either. the breeze will be his lullaby, and the blue canopy of heaven his coverlet." "hurrah for you, davy; that's as good a definition of what a boy scout should accustom himself to, as i ever heard. i didn't know you had it in you to talk like that," said thad, warmly. "oh! i got that out of a book," declared davy, frankly. "and thad, do i have to give up these nice clean sheets; and crawl in between the folds of a nasty, rough, tickly blanket?" asked smithy, pleadingly. "it will be just as well for you to begin right, number five," said the scout-master, pleasantly but firmly. "sooner or later, if you stick by the silver fox patrol, you've got to learn how to rough it. and if you think enough of your fellow scouts to make this sacrifice, all the better." without a word then, smithy tossed the offending sheets across to thad; and followed with his usual night apparel. "i'll take those pajamas, davy; and thank you kindly for offering to loan them to me;" he said, bravely; but when the faded and somewhat torn night suit was immediately handed over to him, the particular boy was seen to shudder, as though they gave him a cold chill. still, he proved to be true grit, and was soon donning them, so as to keep up with the balance of the boys. thad winked toward allan, as much as to say that he felt very much encouraged at the progress being made in the education of edmund maurice travers smith, the spoiled darling of a weak mamma. "mark my word for it," he said in a low tone to his second in command; "with all his pink and white complexion, and girlish ways, there's the making of a good scout in smithy. given a little time for him to get over the cruel shock these rough ways bring to his orderly system, and you'll see a different sort of fellow spring up. the seed's there all right. and mamma's baby boy will turn into as sturdy and hardy a scout as there is in the troop." allan smiled, and nodded. perhaps he did not have quite as much faith as the young scout-master, because he may not have been as good a reader of character; but he realized that what smithy had just done was as valiant a thing for one of his nature as attacking a wildcat would be for another boy, built along different lines. for he was defying what had threatened to become a part of his own being, and with gritting teeth trying to show himself a real flesh and blood boy for once. "when we're all ready, fellows," remarked thad, presently; "the bugler will sound taps, and after that, see to it that all lights are out but the camp-fire. i've fixed that so it will burn several hours; and once or twice during the night allan or myself will crawl out, to add some wood from the pile you heaped up here. not that we need the heat, you understand; but there ought to be a lot of sentiment connected with a first camp-fire; and the silver fox patrol must never forget this one. all ready now?" "hold on!" called some one from inside the near tent; "i can't find part of my pajamas; and it'd be too cool to sleep with only half on. now ain't it funny why it's always _my_ things that get taken? just like i was going to be a target for all the fun that's going." "of course it's that poor old careless step-hen again, always throwing his things around, and forgetting where he put 'em," said davy, in a tone of disgust; then he took a peep inside, and burst out into a roar of laughter, adding: "well, did i ever see such a crazy thing? hi! fellows look here, and see him hunting around like fun for the lower half of his pajamas, when they are trailing behind him right now, fastened to the shirt part; and he never got on to it. it's right killing, i declare." "how could i see behind me?" grumbled step-hen, as he hastened to get into the balance of his night outfit; "my eyes happen to be fixed in front; but some of you smart set may be able to see both ways. all ready, mr. scout-master; let her go!" the eight boys presented a comical appearance as they stood there, awaiting the sweet notes of the bugle sounding "taps;" for their pajamas were of all sorts of patterns, from gay stripes to deep solid blues and reds. thad gave one last look around, and picking up a lantern motioned to allan to take charge of the other, so that at the last notes they could "douse the glim." then he turned toward the stout bugler, clad in the gayest suit of all, and looking like "a rolypoly pudding," as one of the other boys declared. "now!" called out the patrol leader, in a tone of authority. so the official bugler raised the instrument to his swollen lips, game to do his duty; and started to put his whole soul into the thrilling score that, heard at a late hour of the night, always brings with it a feeling of intense admiration. he had just uttered the first few notes when they saw him suddenly whirl around in consternation, and at the same time point with the bugle, as he shrieked: "oh! look! look what's coming in on us, fellows!" "it's a bear!" whooped davy jones, making a bee-line for the nearest tree, just as might have been expected of such a gymnast. and thad, with one look, realized that there was no laughing matter about it; because it was a sure-enough bear that walked into their camp on his hind feet! chapter vi. the dancing bear. the excited announcement made by davy jones was instantly succeeded by such a mad scramble as those boys had certainly never witnessed before in all their lives. indeed, none of them saw more than a very small proportion of the queer sights that took place, and for a very good reason; because every single fellow was more concerned about reaching a place of safety than anything else. davy gained his tree in about five mad leaps, and the way he mounted up among the convenient branches would have made a monkey turn green with envy. there was giraffe also, who had very good luck in picking out a tree that offered easy stages for climbing, in that the branches began fairly close to the ground. thad and allan just happened to choose the same resting-place, and met as they began to mount upward. still, as they seemed to have forgotten an important engagement above, they did not stop to enter into any conversation just then. there was no telling which one of the crowd the invader might have selected for his victim, and each boy imagined that he could feel the hot breath of the bear right at his bare heels. some were not so fortunate. for example, poor bumpus was having a perfectly dreadful time. he had had the advantage of sighting the bear first; but that did not go very far toward counteracting his unwieldy heft, and his clumsy way of always finding something to stumble over. true to his habits, bumpus tripped over one of the guy ropes holding a tent in taut shape. he rolled over with a howl of fright, fancying that now he was surely bound to become bear's meat; for you see poor bumpus had considerable to learn about the woods animals, or he would have known that as a rule the american black bear lives on roots and nuts and berries, and bothers his head not at all about feasting on fat boys, such as a tiger might fancy. bumpus, however, did not mean to just lie there, and let himself be eaten, not if he could do anything whatever to prevent such a vacancy in the hawtree family. as he struck the ground he began revolving rapidly. no doubt it was rather like a barrel rolling, for bumpus was quite round. this sort of thing quickly brought him up against the other tent. he had not meant to make for it, but as soon as his second or third revolution brought his clutching hands in contact with the canvas, bumpus had a brilliant idea. it was not often that he could boast of such an inspiration; but then a fellow may even surprise himself when the necessity is great. if he could only tear away one or two of the loops that were fastened to ground stakes, what was to hinder him from pushing his way into the tent, and possibly hiding under some of the blankets? eagerly he jerked at the nearest one; and fortunately it seemed to be a trifle loose, for it came free in his hands. but try as he would he failed to budge the next stake, which had taken a firm hold. in a panic, when he saw the walking bear still drawing nearer, poor bumpus managed to push his legs under the lower rim of the tightly stretched canvas. only the lower half of him could find admittance; the balance was of such larger girth that in spite of his frantic labor he could not push under the tent. there he lay, one half of him safe, and the other exposed to all the peril. he dropped his face on the grass. perhaps it was to shut out the terrible sight; or it may have been that bumpus was like the foolish ostrich, which, upon being hotly chased, will thrust its head into a tuft of grass, and imagine itself hidden from the foe simply because it cannot see anything. the others? well, the boy from the blue ridge proved himself no mean sprinter when a real live bear threatened to embrace him; for he had managed to clamber up a tree with more or less difficulty, and was even then astride a limb. there was step-hen on the other side of the same friendly oak, breathing hard, and casting frequent looks aloft, as though considering whether it might not be a wise thing to mount upward, so as not to attract the attention of the bear towards himself. smithy was perhaps almost as badly frightened as bumpus, only he did not meet with the series of mishaps that befell the fat boy. like the balance of the covey the "particular" boy made a bee-line for the tree that happened to catch his eye by the light of the camp-fire. had any of his chums thought to observe the movements of smithy they would have discovered that for once he did not even think of stopping to brush his hair, or pick his steps. barefooted as he was, he dashed over the intervening ground, and hugged the trunk of his tree with a zeal that spoke well for his activity. and now they were all securely seated in various attitudes, breathing hard, and gazing at the invader with various emotions. some still had their hearts going after the fashion of trip-hammers; others were beginning to see the funny side of the affair, and chuckle a little, even though confessing that they too had been more or less alarmed at the unexpected call of bruin. of course allan and thad belonged to this latter class, partly because they were built a little differently from their comrades in the silver fox patrol; and also on account of previous experiences along this line. the maine boy had come from a state where bears are plentiful; perhaps, now, it may not have been the first time in his life that allan hollister had found himself chased by one of the hairy tribe. all this, which has taken so long to describe, really happened in a bare minute of time. when thad reached a safe perch on a friendly limb, and looked around at the strange fruit those neighboring trees had suddenly taken to bearing, it was really little wonder that he felt like laughing. some were clad in red, others blue; while a few had the gayest stripes running in circles or lengthwise throughout their pajamas. what was this to a hungry bear? absolutely nothing; and doubtless the invader of the first camp of the boy scouts saw little that appeared humorous in the situation. he had entered in a friendly way, expecting to be treated to a supper; and here his intended hosts had fled wildly, as though they feared lest he meant to make a meal of them. strange enough, no doubt bruin thought, if he was capable of thinking at all. he still remained standing on his hind feet, and turning his head from one side to the other, thrusting out his nose in an odd way, as though he might be sniffing the air in order to locate the place where the food was kept. it began to strike thad as really comical, now that his own little panic was in the past. he also noticed certain things that had not appealed to him before, no doubt chiefly because he was too busy at the time to pay attention. but fancy the horror of poor bumpus when, raising his head presently, consumed by a horrible fascination he could not control, he actually saw the bear _looking straight at him_! that settled it, and he just knew that the savage beast had already picked him out as a tender morsel. oh! why was he so unlucky as to be born to plumpness? if only he could be more like the skinny giraffe, or step-hen, perhaps this awful beast would have passed him by. he let out a roar as he saw the bear start toward him another step, moving his forepaws as though growing anxious to embrace him. "keep away! just you try to get one of them other fellows! they're the ones you want, not me, i tell you. scat! get out!" but the bear only advanced still another half hesitating step, and bumpus, unable to look longer, wriggled vainly in the endeavor to withdraw within the shelter of the tent, and then dropped his face to the earth again. he believed that his time had come, and he might as well be saying his prayers before he made a late supper for a wild bear. about this time a glimmer of the truth began to work in upon thad's brain. he realized in the first place that no ordinary bear of the wild woods would act in this remarkable fashion. no doubt, had it ventured into the camp at all, it would have come on all four legs, "woofing" its displeasure that human beings had disturbed the loneliness of its haunts. and by the way, as a rule wild bears were not in the habit of going around dangling chains behind them, which was just what he discovered this animal did. he had heard the peculiar jangling sound as the beast first rushed the camp; but at the time was hardly stopping to investigate its cause. and perhaps that was why allan was laughing to himself, rather than because of the queer looks of the party perched in the surrounding trees. he had already guessed the truth. but the situation afforded no comfort to those other boys who stared, and wondered what under the sun they could do if the creature selected their tree to climb. most of them were trying to remember whether bears really did climb trees or not; and hoping that because this one seemed different from the common black american bear, he might not be able to do much in that line. he still stood there, erect, sniffing to the right and to the left. why, now that thad had guessed the secret, he could see something almost pitiful in the begging attitude of the poor bear. no doubt the animal was very hungry, and did not know how to go about finding his own meals, he had been accustomed to having them brought to him in the shape of hunks of bread or such things, most of his life. thad had a sudden brilliant idea. he saw a chance to have a little fun, and give his frightened companions an opportunity to further express their surprise. when poor bumpus tried to escape in such a clumsy fashion that he tripped over the stretched guy rope of a tent, he had let go his beloved bugle. what was music to a fellow when his existence hung in the balance. he could get another horn, but never another life. thad had by chance discovered the shining bugle even while on his way to the friendly tree, and had snatched it up; mechanically perhaps, for he could not have entertained any fear lest the bear would swallow such a thing. at any rate he had it in his possession right then, and being able to play a little, he put it to his lips and trilled a few bars of a ditty that sounded like a queer sort of a waltz. and to the utter amazement of his companions the bear immediately started to tread a lively measure with his two hind feet, extending his shorter forepaws as though holding a pole. in future years no doubt the thought of that strange picture would never appeal to thad brewster without exciting his laughter; for it was certainly one of the most comical things that could be imagined. chapter vii. smithy did it. "oh! would you look at him waltzing!" cried giraffe. "he's turning around and around, like a real dancing bear!" echoed step-hen; and then, still feeling a little malicious toward poor bumpus, whom he really believed was hiding his precious compass, just to annoy him, he could not help adding: "he feels so good, because he sees his dinner all ready for him under the flap of that tent there." that brought out another whoop from bumpus, who felt impelled to raise his head once more, even though it gave him renewed pain. "oh! now i know what it all means!" it was smithy who uttered this cry, and drew the attention of all his chums toward the tree where the boy in the borrowed pajamas sat astride a limb, just like all the rest, and which he had certainly never stopped to brush off with his handkerchief before occupying, either. "have you seen the beast before, smithy?" asked the scout-master, ceasing his little racketty waltz; which caused the bear to once more stand at attention, waiting for the piece of bread that usually came after he had performed his little trick; and still sniffing hungrily around this way and that. "that's what i have, thad," replied the other, eagerly. "why he came past our house only a few days ago, and gave us quite a performance. i made friends with him too, and the man let me even give him some bread i brought out." "sure he did, and glad in the bargain to have some fellow help keep his show bear," allan remarked, half laughing still. "hey, smithy, suppose you climb down right now then, and renew your acquaintance with the ugly old pirate!" sang out davy jones. "and there's half a loaf of that stale bread wrapped in a newspaper, left right where you c'n put your hand on it, inside the tent where bumpus is kicking his last. you're welcome to feed it to the bear, smithy." it was step-hen who made this magnificent announcement; how easy it was to think up things for some one else to do, while he clung to his safe anchorage up there among the branches of the beech tree. "only half a loaf, remember," put in the cautious and always hungry giraffe; "we don't want to run short too early in the game; and there's a lot of meals to be looked after yet." "somebody's got to do something, that's sure," remarked bob white. "this night air is some cool to a fellow with my warm southern blood; and i give you my word, suh, i'm beginning to shiver right now." "and if we don't think up some way to coax the beast to get out," declared step-hen, gravely; "why, just as like as not he'll eat up everything we've got, and then go to sleep in our blankets, with us hanging around here like a lot of ripe plums." "let davy do it," remarked thad; for that was an expression often used among the boys, davy being such a spry chap, and usually so willing. but he at once set up a determined protest. "now, i would, believe me, boys, if i only knew the gentleman, which i don't, never having been properly introduced. must have been out of town when he gave his little show the other day. so i respectfully but firmly decline the honor you want to pay me. now, it's sure up to smithy to get busy, and make up with his old chum again. here's his chance to win immortal glory, and the thanks of the whole silver fox patrol as well. smithy, it's your move." the delicate boy was pale before, but he turned even whiter now, as he looked in the direction of thad. "perhaps i _might_ coax him to be good; and get a chance to whip the end of that long chain around a tree," he said, in a voice he tried in vain to keep from trembling. thad hardly knew what to say. he understood that animals never forget an enemy, or one who has been good to them. an elephant in captivity has been known to bear a grudge for several years, until a good chance came to pay his debt. now smithy said he had fed the traveling bear at the time it danced for his amusement. doubtless, then, it might recollect him, and would be less inclined to show any vicious temper if he approached, than should a stranger try to take hold of the trailing chain. "you said you had fed him, didn't you, smithy?" he asked. "yes, with half a loaf of good bread; and i would have gone after more only just at that minute my mother happened to come to the window, and became so frightened at seeing me near the bear, she called to me to come in the house. but i shook hands with him before i went," the last proudly, as though he wanted the boys to know he was not the milksop they sometimes had imagined in the past. "and do you think he would remember you?" continued thad, only half convinced that he ought to let the other take the risk; though there really seemed no other way out of the difficulty that promised one-half as good chances. "oh! i'm sure he would, he acted so very friendly. please let me try it, thad. i really want to; and see, i'm not afraid at all; only i do wish i had my shoes on, for the hard ground hurts my feet. i never went barefooted before in all my life." "oh! let him try the trick, thad," called out davy; "i'm getting cold, too. this here private box is full of draughts you see; and my attire is so very airy. blankets are what i want most right now. give smithy a chance to show what he can do in the wild beast taming line." "it'll sure be the making of him," echoed step-hen cheerfully, from his perch. "but perhaps a quarter of a loaf would do just as well; i'd try it on him if i was you, smithy," suggested giraffe; who groaned to think of all that good food being wasted on a miserable traveling show bear that had strayed into camp. "all right, if you feel confident, smithy;" said thad; "but watch him close; and if he makes a move as if he wanted to grab you, shin out for the tree again. we'll all stand by, ready to give a yell, so as to scare him off." bumpus was staring at all this amazing procedure. slowly the fact had begun to filter through the rather sluggish brain of the fat boy that after all fate had not decided to offer him as a tempting bait to whet the appetite of a bear. he even began to pluck up a little bit of hope that smithy might succeed in chaining the ugly old terror to a tree, and thus saving his, bumpus' life. when the delicate boy started to scramble down out of his leafy bower the others tried to encourage him in various ways. "good boy, smithy!" cooed step-hen. "you've certainly got more grit than any fellow in the bunch; and i take off my hat to you, suh!" cried the southern boy, making a movement with his hand as if in salute. "try the quarter loaf, smithy; you'll find it just where step-hen said, inside the tent where bumpus is hanging out," giraffe called. "only half-way out," corrected that party; and then ducked his head as he saw that his voice had attracted the attention of the bear. so smithy dropped to the ground. thad saw that he was fearfully white about the face, and was half tempted to recall him; but had an idea smithy would refuse to obey, now that he had resolved to prove his valor, which must have been more or less doubted in the past. the tall, slim boy started walking toward the tent where bumpus was confined, unable to go or come, so tightly had he become wedged under the canvas. they saw the bear had become greatly interested. watching the movements of the boy in the borrowed pajamas he made some sort of pitiful sound that was not unlike a groan. evidently mealtimes had been a long ways apart lately for bruin; but he seemed to understand that the boy had gone to secure him something. the short forelegs began to beat imaginary time, and the bear started to again tread that queer measure, turning slowly around and around as he continued to follow out the line of discipline to which he had been brought up. he was really begging for something to stay the pangs of hunger. meanwhile smithy, though doubtless shivering like a leaf, had reached the open flap of the tent. passing inside his eyes quickly found the half loaf of bread wrapped in a newspaper. and seizing it he tore the cover away, after which he once more appeared in view. as he now advanced, slowly yet eagerly, in the direction of the dancing bear, he held out the bait, and began to softly call, just as he had heard one of the two keepers of the bear do: "bumpus! bumpus, good boy! here supper for bumpus!" "hey, quit calling him by my name," said the fat boy, indignation even making him forget his recent fear. but smithy paid not the least attention to him. he was advancing, repeating the name over and over; and trying the best he knew how to speak in tones resembling the thick voice of the man who had held the chain at the time the animal danced for him. so he presently came close to the bear, which had now ceased dancing, and was thrusting out his nose toward the coveted bread, while making a queer noise. not a fellow among the scouts moved so much as a little finger. every eye was glued on the form of smithy, and doubtless more than one of them really wondered while thus holding his breath in suspense, if the starving beast would actually seize upon the boy who came offering gifts. "oh! he took it!" gasped step-hen. "and it was the whole of that half loaf too," added giraffe, with a sigh of regret. "the chain, quick! smithy; there's a small tree right by you that ought to hold him! that's the way! hurrah for you, smithy; he's done it, boys; and you can drop down now without being afraid," and thad followed the words by allowing himself to leave the branches of his tree, landing softly on the ground. loud shouts attested to the delight of the other prisoners, when the delicate and pampered boy snatched up the end of the long and strong chain, bringing it around the tree thad mentioned, and apparently locking it securely. after which smithy staggered away from the spot, and sank down upon the ground, trembling and weak from the great nervous strain under which he had been laboring. the shouts turned into cheers, and smithy's name was given three and a tiger; so that the racket made even the hungry bear look wonderingly at the fantastic group that took hold of hands, and danced around the hero of the hour. chapter viii. a night to be remembered. "are you sure that chain will hold, smithy?" asked the still nervous step-hen, when some of the noise and enthusiasm had died away, so that the scouts could act like reasonable human beings again. they had dodged into the tents, and appeared wrapped in their various blankets; so that as they walked to and fro they resembled so many solemn indian braves. "no question about it," returned the other, in whose cheeks a splash of color had come, while his eyes were sparkling with satisfaction over the receipt of honors such as any boy scout should be proud to deserve of his fellows. "hey! ain't you goin' to help me out of this?" called bumpus just then. "well, would you ever, if he ain't sticking there under that tent, too lazy to help himself crawl out again," remarked step-hen; possibly wondering whether this might not be a good opportunity for him to sneak off with that knapsack belonging to bumpus, so that he could secure the compass he was positive the fat boy was hiding from him. "yes, i _am_ stuck here, and so tight i just can't hardly breathe," complained the prisoner. "somebody go inside, and give me a shove. if that don't do the business, then another of these here pegs has got to be lifted, that's all." allan obliged the other with a helping hand, and bumpus was soon able to don his blanket like the rest. sleep had been banished for the time being, by this remarkable happening. the boys began to speculate as to what they should do with the bear, now that they had him tied up. "it's sure a white elephant we've got on our hands," laughed thad. "we don't dare let him loose; and if we keep him here long, he'll eat us out of house and home." at that giraffe groaned most dismally. if there was anything he hated to see it was good food being tossed to the beasts. "our first camp-fire brought us bad luck, fellows!" he complained. "oh! i don't know," remarked thad. "it gave us a run for the money; and chances are, we'll never get over laughing at the funny things that happened. then besides think what it did for smithy! after what he did i guess there isn't a scout who will ever taunt him about being a coward." "no, smithy certainly made good this night; and i pass him up away ahead of me on the roll. he deserves a merit badge, suh, for his true grit," was what the generous southern lad declared firmly. "hear! hear! we'll put in an application to headquarters for a badge to be given to our comrade smithy for saving our bacon!" cried davy jones. "well," declared giraffe, "it might have been our bacon, in fact; because i saw him sniffing in the direction of the tent where it happens to be lying. a fine lot of scouts we'd be, camped away up here, far from our base of supplies, and to run out of bacon the first thing. what's a breakfast without coffee and bacon; tell me that?" but apparently none of the others were so much given to thinking about the delights of eating as giraffe, for nobody answered his question. thad had pulled allan aside. "what did i tell you about that boy?" he whispered, as he watched the emotions that flitted across the now flushed face of the proud smithy, receiving the homage of his fellow scouts. "well, you were right, that's all; he did have the pluck as you said, and he showed it too. i never saw a better piece of grit, never," was the reply the maine boy gave to the question. "his mother and aunts may have done their level best to make a sissy out of him; and we always believed they had come mighty near doing it too; but i tell you, allan, i just feel sure that his father or grandfather must have been a brave soldier in their day. there's warrior blood in smithy's veins, in spite of his pale face, and his girlish ways." "oh! it won't take long for him to get rid of all those things," said the other, confidently. "already we've seen him accept that tattered old pair of pajamas from davy jones; either of us might have hesitated to put 'em on, because of the laugh they'd raise. i think davy only fetched them along to get a rise from the boys. smithy is all right, thad. given a few months with us, and his mother won't know her darling angelic little boy." "say, thad," sang out step-hen just then; "what d'ye reckon could have happened to the fellers that own the bear? we've been talking it over, and no two think alike. some say they got tired feeding the beast, and turned him loose on the community, to browse off poor scouts, camping out for the first time. then others got the notion that p'raps some hobos might have stopped the show foreigners, and took their money, letting the bear shuffle off by himself." "we'll just have to take it out in guessing, and let it go at that," was the reply thad made. "you see, we haven't anything to go by. the bear wasn't carrying any message fastened to his collar, or anything of the sort that i could see." "now you're joking, thad; the only message he had about him was a hungry one, and it showed on his face and in the way he begged," bob white remarked. "but, oh! dear me, don't i hope then that the two foreign chaps are hot on the trail of their lost performing pet; and will show up here bright and early to-morrow morning; for just think what an immense stack of precious grub that bear can put away inside of forty-eight hours." nobody but giraffe could have had a thought along these lines. "well, he's tired as all get-out now, it seems," said step-hen; "for there he's lying down like he meant to go to sleep in the shadow of that tree. makes himself right at home, i must say. i reckon he likes us, fellows." "please don't say that, step-hen; it makes me nervous," remarked bumpus, wrapping his blanket around him after the way an ancient roman might his toga, as if, in spite of its warmth, he had started shivering again, as the significant words of step-hen awakened unpleasant thoughts in his now active mind. "but how about appointing a sentry to stay on guard during the night?" suggested giraffe, turning to the scout-master. "what for?" asked thad, winking at allan. "to watch that he don't get loose, and spread himself at our expense," the other explained. "why, if that bear overfed, and killed himself, those foreign men'd be just awful mad, fellows. i wouldn't be surprised now, if they tried to make us pay a big sum for letting the old sinner feed on our rich truck. sometimes these educated animals are worth a heap." "oh! you c'n watch all you're a mind to, giraffe," jeered step-hen; "the rest of us want some sleep. be sure and shoo him away if he does break loose, and try to wreck our cooking department. i'm going to hunt for a soft spot right now inside this tent. don't anybody dare to wake me up before the sun shows again." with that he started to crawl under the flap of the tent. his action was the signal for a general disappearance, as the boys remembered again, now that the excitement was a thing of the past, that they were both tired and sleepy. thad was the last in sight. he wanted to stroll over in the direction of the uninvited guest; and if the bear remained quiet, he meant to examine for himself just how securely smithy had made the chain. no one could question his intentions; but then at the time smithy was worked up to a degree that might excuse some bungling. the bear was lying down. he raised his head and made that queer sniffing sound when thad approached, as though possibly anticipating another feed. thad spoke to the beast in a low, soothing tone, as he used his fingers to ascertain just how the end of the chain was fastened. smithy had done his work in a business-like way, in spite of trembling hands. there was a little metal bar which was intended to slip through an extra strong ring, that in turn was connected with one of the links. this being done the bear would be held securely, unless through some accident the ring and bar parted company, which might not happen once in a year's time. so thad, quite satisfied, left the shady tree under which the prisoner had stretched his hairy form, and returned to the vicinity of the fire. here he busied himself for a little while, fixing things so that there would be no necessity for any one attending the camp-fire during several hours at least; indeed, the big back log would doubtless last until morning, smouldering hour after hour. giving one last look around, and quite satisfied with the arrangement of this, the first camp of the newly organized silver fox patrol of cranford troop of boy scouts, thad finally followed the example of his chums, crawling under the flap of the tent, which he left up for ventilation. he found three fellows apparently already far gone in sleep, if he could judge from their steady and heavy breathing. so thad, chuckling to himself as some humorous thought flitted through his mind, settled down to join them in dreamland. he knew no reason why he should deny himself the rest he sorely needed. there was no danger hovering over the camp that he was aware of; the bear was securely fastened, and apparently content to take up regular lodgings again with human companions; and the fire could not communicate to any dry brush or grass, so as to cause an alarm. and on this account thad gave himself up to the pleasure of securing his full measure of sleep, intending to awaken inside of, say three hours, when he could creep softly out, to throw a fresh log on the camp-fire, without disturbing any one. the last sounds he remembered hearing consisted of a crackling of the flames as they seized upon a particularly fine piece of fuel; and the croaking of some bullfrogs along the shore of the lake. thad lazily made up his mind to try and secure the hind legs of a few of these big green "mossbacks," as he called them; for he knew from experience what a dainty meal they would make, fried with some salt pork, being equal to any tender spring chicken he knew of. then he slept, perhaps for some hours, thad could not tell; when he was aroused by the greatest kind of shouting from somewhere near by. he sat up instantly, his senses on the alert, listening to locate the disturbance, and get some sort of line on its nature. chapter ix. lucky bruin. "oh! murder! he's broke loose, and remembers about me!" bumpus was shouting close to the ear of thad; and there was a great scurrying in that quarter, as if the fat boy might be trying to hide himself under the blankets. thad hurried outside as fast as he could; and in this he was closely imitated by bob white and giraffe, who happened to be his other tent mates. already thad had made a most important as well as surprising discovery. those yells did not appear to be given by allan, step-hen, davy jones or smithy. they were fashioned on another key from the well-known voices of these fellow scouts. of course, the first and most natural idea that flashed into thad's mind lay in the direction of the two foreigners, whom smithy seemed to believe must be bohemians. could they have followed the trail of the escaped bear, and entering the camp of the scouts by stealth, were now engaged in administering the beating to the poor animal, as they thought he deserved for leaving them in the lurch? in one way it sounded like that might be the case, for amidst all the clamor of shouts thad could detect something like roars or grunts from the bear. but no sooner was he outside the tent than he realized that this could not be the case at all. the voices were certainly not those of men, but rather sounded like cries falling from boys' tongues. and instead of being raised in anger, they were frantic with _fright_! an old moon had risen while the campers slept, so that it was no longer dark out on the lake near by. the first thing thad did was to look toward the tree where the bear had been chained at the time smithy took care of him so neatly. he was standing on his hind legs, and giving tongue to his feelings in deep rumbling roars that seemed to almost make the very air tremble. "just listen to 'em go, would you?" ejaculated a voice close to thad's shoulder, and he turned to find allan there; while his three tent mates were close behind, all worked up again over this new and exciting mystery of the first night in camp. "who in the wide world can it be?" asked bob white. "don't know; but i'm sorry for one of them," remarked thad; "because he smashed into the trunk of that tree just then; and i rather guess he'll have the marks to show for it a long while." "and listen to that splash, boys!" exclaimed step-hen. "just as like as not another of the lot slipped and fell into the lake;" spoke up giraffe, "there he goes splashing like fun, and how he does holler in the bargain!" "hark! what is he shouting?" asked allan. "why, he's calling for help, because he thinks the old bear will get him now, sure. i c'n see him near the shore there, kicking up the water like an old stern-wheel steamboat. say, ain't he the worst scared fellow you ever saw?" "don't forget there were a bunch about as bad off as that, a while back," declared thad; "but he seems to be calling for some one to come back and help him." "i got it then, and it was brose!" exclaimed bob white, who had very acute hearing. "that explains it all," declared thad. "now we know who we have to thank for making all this racket. brose griffin and his two shadows, hop, and eli bangs were going to pay us a nice little surprise party visit. perhaps when we woke up in the morning we'd have found all sorts of things gone, and have to hike back to town to-morrow. but they didn't know we had a bear in camp, did they, fellows?" "oh! my, and if they didn't stumble right on the beast!" exclaimed bumpus, who, not wanting to be left by himself in the tent, had crawled out, after taking a cautious look first. "what a rich joke on brose and his crowd. i can just see 'em scooting for home for all they're worth. never catch any of that bunch around our camp again on this trip, that's sure, boys." "i hope," thad went on to say as he stood listening; "the fellow in the lake don't go under; it must be hop; because you know he does limp some, from that broken leg he got last winter." "oh! he got out all right," observed allan. "sure thing," added giraffe; "because i saw him climb up the bank; and there, if you listen, you can hear the silly right now, going whimpering along. say, what a time we are having, eh, fellows?" "who'd ever think so much could be crowded inside a few hours?" declared smithy; who felt that he would have good reason to look back on this remarkable experience as the crowning feature of his whole life, because he had certainly lived more in the last four hours than all the balance of his years thrown together. "and boys, don't forget we owe a lot to our guest--what was that you called him, smithy--bumpus?" thad continued. "oh! let's change it to just plain smith," suggested bumpus. "but we do owe the old fellow a whole lot of thanks," remarked bob white. "and in the morning, suh, i intend to see to it that he gets a good filling breakfast, even if i have to cut down my own allowance." at that giraffe groaned dismally. "oh! say, you don't think of going that far, i hope; and for only a dancing bear; we ought to be able to feed him on the leavings, don't you think?" he asked. "he'd soon kick the bucket, then, giraffe, if he waited for any leavings from your platter," observed davy jones; "because i notice that you lick it clean every time." "listen, do you hear any more shouting?" asked thad. though they strained their ears no one could catch a single sound. "guess they've got beyond earshot," remarked step-hen. "but you take it straight from me, suh, they're running yet; and i wouldn't be afraid to say that they'll keep it up until they fairly drop," bob white gave as his opinion; and indeed, all of them agreed with him there. then the funny side of the thing seemed to strike them. first one commenced to laugh, and then, as the others looked at him they too started, until the merriment grew, and some of the scouts were holding each other up in their weakness. bumpus even solemnly declared the bear joined in the general hilarity; he did act a bit queerly, and made a series of sounds that might be construed into bear laughter. smithy remarked that the old fellow deserved another feed after such splendid service in guarding the camp. "there's that heavy cake step-hen fetched along; might try him on that; and if he likes it, we'll be saved more'n one stomach ache," davy proposed. "why, i didn't think it was so _very_ bad," spoke up giraffe; and then, seeing the others frowning at him, he hastened to add; "but if you think he ought to be fed again, to keep him quiet, why break off a piece, smithy." "a piece!" cried step-hen, "he gets the whole cake, understand. talk about base ingratitude, some persons can never feel anything but the empty state of their stomach. why, that bear saved us the whole of our grub, mebbe, by giving the alarm; and besides, he scared that bunch so bad they'll let us alone after this. the bear takes the cake, don't he, thad?" "he certainly does," replied the scout-master, laughing again. smithy found that the chained visitor was perfectly agreeable, for the way he took that heavy cake and devoured, it was a caution. "watch him eat, giraffe," suggested davy jones; "he can give you some valuable pointers on how to stow the grub away. you see, his neck ain't like yours, and it takes less time to navigate the channel." "huh! i only hope it gives him a cramp, and doubles him up," grunted the other, in more or less disgust. "now you're getting one off on me, you think," remarked davy; for he had been subject to cramps a long time, and never knew when one would attack him, making him perfectly helpless for the time being; and the boys were beginning to notice how accommodating the said "cramps" seemed to be, visiting davy just when some hard work loomed up in which the victim was supposed to have a part. "and now what?" demanded step-hen, yawning, and stretching his long figure. "do we go back to our downy couch again, fellows; or is it so near morning that we'd better stay awake?" asked davy jones. "do you know what time it is?" asked thad, who had been inside to consult the little nickel watch he carried: "just ten minutes after two!" "wow! me to get seven more winks!" exclaimed giraffe; "and please don't wake me so suddenly again, boys. my eyelids popped open with a bang. if they hadn't been fastened on as tight as they were, i'd have lost one, sure." "that's the way you wake up, eh?" remarked step-hen. "remember the irishman who heard the cannon fired when the flag went down, and asked what it was. when they told him it meant sunset he said----" "'sure, the sun niver goes down in ould ireland wid a bang loike thot!'" called out giraffe from the interior of the tent, spoiling the telling of step-hen's little story, which no doubt every one of the boys knew. soon the camp was wrapped in silence again, even the contented bear lying down, better satisfied than ever with his new friends. and that wish of giraffe's could not have borne fruit, for there was nothing heard to indicate that the bear suffered the least bit of indigestion from devouring the whole heavy cake that would have lain like lead in even a boy's strong stomach. the rising moon sailed higher in the heavens, and looked down upon the peaceful camp of the silver fox patrol. the little wavelets washed up on the shore with a sweet musical tinkle that must have been like a lullaby to the boys, seeing that even thad failed to awaken again, while night lasted; and the smouldering camp-fire had to take care of itself from the time of that second alarm. some of them would very likely have imitated their habits when at home, and tried to sleep until long after sunrise; only that they were under military rules while in camp. and so it was the clear notes of the bugle, blown by the now recovered bumpus, as he alone could blow it, that rang out over the water, telling the sleepers that they must make their appearance for the early morning dip in the clear lake, after which the various duties of the day could be taken up, beginning with the first camp breakfast. chapter x. looking to big things ahead. "ain't this fine and dandy, though?" remarked bumpus, as he stood on the shore, after a short session in the water, and rubbed his plump form with part of the fine sheet smithy had fetched along, foolishly thinking he would need it for sleeping. they had splashed, and swam about to their hearts' content, until thad timing the bathing period, ordered the last scout from the water. there was an absence of the frolicsome spirit so often seen among boys when in swimming. discipline would not allow step-hen, for instance, slapping a lump of mud upon bumpus just after he had succeeded in drying himself; though possibly he might have enjoyed doing it first-rate; since he still felt that the fat boy was playing a joke on him by concealing his precious compass upon which he depended to show him the right road, should he ever get astray in the woods. breakfast was an easy meal to get. they just had to boil the coffee, and fry several rashers of bacon for each mess; after which the appointed cooks, tried their hands at making flapjacks; which, be it mentioned here, are about the same as the common pancake at home, though never called by that ordinary name in camp. these were fairly good, though a bit heavy, not quite enough "rising" having been put in the flour. the next time, thad said, they would carry the self-raising kind of flour along, when they would be sure of having light bread. "if there are any left, boys," remarked thad, "don't forget that we are honored by the presence of a guest in our camp. he came without invitation, and is kept here perhaps against his will; but all the same we owe him a heavy debt of gratitude." "yes," spoke up bumpus, who had not cared very much for the latter end of his breakfast, as he was a light eater, and rather particular, "fussy" step-hen called it, "which we will proceed to cancel by a heavy dose of dough. give him my share, boys, and welcome. i've got too much respect for my poor stomach to cram such prog down into it." "hold on," remarked giraffe, looking up, hungrily; "perhaps everybody ain't through yet; and bob, i think those flapjacks you made are simply delicious." "thanks, suh!" returned the cook of his mess, with a pretended bow; "but i beg to diffah with you; and by the orders of the scout-master i am handing the balance over to smithy, from the other mess, who will proceed to feed it to the prisoner. our scout-master is afraid that if you did get sick so early in the outing, he might have to exhaust the medicine chest befo' your appetite returned." "oh! all right, bob, just as you say; and perhaps i have devoured as many as i had ought to; but they _were_ good, i don't care what you say. come again, bob." "hey! anybody seen my head--" began step-hen; when davy interrupted him to bawl: "anybody seen step's head; he's done gone and lost that, now. always said he would have done it long ago, only nature had it fastened on tight. but the catastrophe has arrived at last. step's lost his head, fellows; not that it matters much. a liberal reward is hereby offered to the finder. apply to step-hen bingham." "think you're smart, don't you?" jeered the lean one, as he kept on overturning all manner of things. "i was only going to ask if any one had taken my head gear, otherwise known as my campaign hat? of course i know what the answer'll be--nobody's seen a thing of it. it does beat the dutch how _my_ things are always going, the funniest way ever. now i could declare i hung that hat up on the broken branch of this tree." "well, you've been sitting on it all the time you were eating breakfast; and there it lies, as flat as any pancake that was ever cooked. now perhaps you'll learn sometimes just to put things where you c'n find 'em," said bumpus. step-hen turned to shoot an accusing stare at the speaker that made the fat boy writhe, for he knew what was passing in the mind of the other. "didn't, so there!" he snapped, as he turned away; and step-hen, looking after him, wagged his head as he muttered: "honest injun now, i really believe he _did_ take it, and the joke's gone so far he just hates to own up. oh! all right, bumpus, i'll get on to your game sooner or later; and then the laugh will be with you, just wait and see." it was the purpose of thad, in the absence of dr. philander hobbs, the real scout-master of cranford troop, to daily put the scouts through various interesting exercises connected with the education of a boy scout. for instance there was the following of a trail in the woods, observing every little item of interest connected with it, until the properly educated scout would be able to actually describe the man who had made the tracks without ever having seen him, telling his height, whether thin or stout, even the color of his hair, what sort of shoes he wore, whether new or old, and that he walked with a limp, carried a cane, and many other interesting facts in connection with the unknown. then there was photography in which two of the silver fox patrol were deeply interested, so that they kept continually in a fever of expectancy regarding the prospects for pictures that would be out of the common. one of the scouts even went so far as to propose that the boys don their fancy pajamas in the broad daylight, and hunt up the friendly trees, in whose branches they had sought refuge when the bear first invaded the camp; so that a snapshot could be taken that would preserve the event for all time. bumpus, however, put his foot down flatly against having anything to do with such an "idiotic proceeding," as he chose to term it. "huh!" he remarked, disdainfully; "all very fine for you fellows, looking so grand up in your leafy bowers, like a flock of queer parrots; but what about poor me, pinned there on the ground by that pesky old tent, that wouldn't let me back in? think i want to be the butt of the joke? count me out. i refuse to join in any such silly game." besides there were classes in tying difficult knots, which every scout in good standing is supposed to know how to do neatly. then came lessons in erecting and taking down the tents, so that every fellow might know just how to go about making camp, and breaking the same. in the water they played the game of landing the big fish, one of the boys allowing a stout line to be fastened to him; and then by swimming and struggling making it as difficult as possible for the angler to reel him in. thad knew considerable about first "aid to the injured", because, as has been stated, he had belonged to a patrol before he came to cranford. so he was able to show the others many things about stopping the flow of blood in case any one happened to be cut with a knife, or an ax, and bandaging the wound afterwards. but the drowning person being brought back to life when it seemed next to hopeless was what interested allan most of all. he had seen more than a few accidents while up in the woods of maine, and knew of the very rough means adopted by the native guides looking to resuscitating a person who has been in the water until life seems extinct. so he eagerly watched the way thad placed the supposed patient on his chest, and kneeling over him, started pressing down on his back while others worked his arms with a regular motion; the whole endeavor being to imitate breathing, and in this artificial way induce the muscles to take on genuine respiration. "that takes with me, i tell you," said allan, eagerly. "i saw a man drowned once, and i believe right now his life could have been saved if only the guide had known the right way to go about it. i'll never forget that lesson, mr. scout-master, never." "it's a splendid thing for any boy to know," said thad, "and might save a chum's life at any time. because, boys are always falling into the water, in summer while swimming, and in winter skating. i intend to practice that every day we're here. it's one of those things you may never want; but in case you do, you want it in a hurry." "how about the fire building tests?" demanded giraffe, eagerly. "yes, that's where giraffe feels at home. give him a chance to start a blaze, and you'll make him happy," laughed step-hen. "you know you're as good as licked, before we begin," replied the other, derisively. "i'm going to start on that fun right away," returned thad. "some of you may be thinking that we're spending entirely too much time with these things; but all the same they go right along with all that a boy scout has got to know. pretty soon cranford troop will be getting its charter from the organization headquarters, and i'd like to have a few merit badges come along with it. that isn't all, either." "i reckon i can give a pretty good guess what you mean by shaking your wise old head that way, thad, and looking sorter mysterious-like," declared davy jones; who seldom showed the proper amount of respect to the acting scout-master, that by rights he should. "then tell us all about it, davy; because we want to know," demanded step-hen. "that's right, and we _must_ know; so start up the music, davy," said giraffe. "why, there's been a whole lot of talk between thad and allan here about the new silver fox patrol taking a trip away from home. it's only a question of getting the money, and the consent of our parents and guardians. i guess the money part could be taken care of, all right; but when it comes to getting permission to really leave cranford, and go down to the blue ridge mountains, that's another thing. it might be done; but my father is a lawyer, and hard to convince." "you're wrong there, davy," said thad, with a laugh; "he was the easiest proposition of the whole lot to fix. there'll be no trouble in that quarter. what we can do about smithy's mother is another thing." "but why the blue ridge mountains; whatever put that notion in your head, thad?" demanded giraffe, deeply puzzled. "i did, suh," announced bob white, drawing himself up; "you see, i came from that section, and i've been telling my chums so much about it that they've become wild to make it a visit. and i invited them to drop in on my old home there, you understand. it would be very nice for me to have you all there as my guests; and to tell you the truth, my mother has been telling me that i ought to go down there right soon now on particular business. if you all could be with me, i should be mighty glad of it. and it might be a splendid thing foh me, i confess." "the blue ridge!" repeated bumpus, as if to see just how it sounded. "say, i've read a lot about the alleghanies, the big smokies, and the blue ridge mountains down there in north carolina, where bob white came from; but honest now, i never expected to find myself there, at least not till i grew up. the blue ridge! well, if so be you can win my folks over to letting me go along, say, won't i wake up the echoes in them old mountains with the merry notes of my bugle? but there goes the scout-master to start the fire building, and water boiling test. come along boys and see who can beat giraffe at his pet game!" chapter xi. the scout who used his eyes. "hold on," called out step-hen, "let's start even all around. has anybody seen my tin cup? funny how _my_ things are always the ones to take to hiding. now i give you my word, fellows, i laid that cup in a safe place after we washed up the breakfast dishes this morning. and i just can't run across it anywhere. if we're all going to take part in that water-boiling, fire-making test i can't enter unless i have my cup, can i? so if anybody's trying to play a joke at my expense, call it off, won't you, please?" "you put it in a safe place, did you, and then forgot where that place was?" laughed thad, who knew the weakness of step-hen very well by this time. "now, what's that hanging from that little broken twig up there?" "well, i declare, i do remember putting it there!" cried the other, with a wide grin, as he unhooked the handle of the tin cup, and took it proudly down. "and after this, you fellows had better go easy with me. i'm learning to keep my things where they won't get lost, understand that?" "yes, but write it down each time, step-hen," laughed smithy. step-hen turned upon this new tormentor. "oh! smithy," he remarked, pleasantly, "you're sure going to get another new suit of clothes, because there's a measuring worm right now, crawling up your back, with his tape line working over time." smithy writhed, and looked piteously at his nearest neighbor. "oh! please knock him off, bumpus; and do be careful not to mash him, because you know, it would make a nasty spot. ugh! i detest worms, and snakes, and all the things that crawl. thank you, bumpus; i'll do the same for you some day." smithy was getting on very well, thad thought, considering how much he had to "unlearn" in order to make a good scout. that morning, after the dip in the lake, the boys had had considerable fun with the tidy one. they had watched him dress in his fastidious way, and before long several of them were mocking him. he brushed his clothes with a lovely brush he had brought along, and which was better fitted for a lady's dressing table than a boys' camp. then he adjusted his tie before a little mirror he produced, spent a long time fixing his flaxen locks to suit him, with another silver mounted brush; and finally dented in his campaign hat with the greatest precision. then the boys burst out into a roar, and smithy became aware that he had been an object of great interest to his campmates for ten minutes. he turned fiery red, looked confused for a brief time; and finally snatching off his hat, gave it several careless blows, after which he thrust it on his head in any old way. at that a cheer had arisen from the other scouts. they seemed to understand that in a short time smithy would have learned his lesson. the work which had taken his doting mother and maiden aunts years to accomplish, would be thrown overboard in a week, and a new smithy arise. each fellow having taken his tin cup, they sought an open spot where the water boiling test could be carried out without one scout interfering with the work of the others. then the acting scout-master mentioned the rules governing the sport. "i'm going to give each scout just three matches," he remarked, "and he is put on his honor not to have another one about him. then you will line up here, after you have each selected a spot inside the boundaries where you mean to conduct your experiment in quick-fire making. for five minutes you can look around, so as to get your mind fixed on just where you will get your kindling, and water. then at the word you start. now, line up here, and get your supply of fire sticks." after the time limit had expired the word was given. all of the patrol save the scout-master started to get busy; and it was a comical sight to see some of them running around in a haphazard way, having lost their bearings in the sudden excitement. bumpus was early out of the game. he did succeed in getting his cup filled with water at the lake some little distance away, but of course in his clumsy fashion he had to stumble, and spill most of it on the way to his chosen station. and as one of the rules insisted that each cup should be at least three-quarters full of water, bumpus gave up the game in abject despair, contenting himself with watching his more agile companions, and cheering them on. smithy also had his troubles. he took so long to get his cup filled, actually washing it out because he discovered a few coffee grounds in the bottom, that the others were building their fires before he awoke to the fact that again had his love for neatness lost him all chance of making a favorable showing. so he too threw up the job as hopeless; but from his determined looks thad knew smithy would do better the next time. this left but five competitors at work. step-hen was doing very well, and allan knew just how to get tinder with which to start a quick fire; but even these two could not be said to be in the same class with giraffe. fires had ever been his hobby, and what he did not know about starting a blaze could be put in a very small compass. more than that, thad noticed that giraffe certainly had good powers of observation. during that period of five minutes when those who had entered the contest were given an opportunity to look around, giraffe had certainly used his eyes to advantage. while the others had hastened to the border of the lake to fill their cups with water, the shrewd giraffe had simply stepped over to a tiny little spring which he had noticed not ten feet away, and there managed to get all he needed. and the way he shaved that fine kindling was a caution. giraffe was a born yankee in that he always carried a keen-edged jack-knife, and could be seen cutting every enticing piece of soft pine he came across. why, he had applied his match to the tinder before the others returned from the lake; and the smoke of his fire blew in their faces most enticingly. then he added just the right sort of bits of wood, not too much at a time, until he had coaxed his fire into doing the very best it knew how. his four rivals were bending every energy to heat up the water in their cups, testing it now and then with disappointed grunts, as it failed to scald their fingers, when a shout from giraffe announced that he needed the attention of the judge, as his cup of water had commenced to bubble. "giraffe has won, hands down," thad said, "but the rest of you go right on, and see how long it takes each one. then another time you will learn to use the faculties that every fellow has just as well as giraffe." when the last one had finally succeeded in coaxing his fire to get up sufficient heat to cause the water in the cup to bubble, the competition was declared closed, with giraffe an easy winner, and allan a fair second. "huh!" said step-hen, "he got the bulge on us right in the beginning by filling his old cup, at that little spring right here, instead of running to the lake like all the rest of us did. don't seem fair to me, mr. scout-master." "why not?" demanded thad, while the victor smiled serenely, knowing what was coming. "you all had the same chance to look around that giraffe was given. if he was smart enough to notice that he could save time by filling his cup at the spring rather than run away over to the lake, so much the more to his credit. a first-class scout will always discover means for saving time. he will keep his eyes and wits about him to see and hear things that an ordinary person might pass right by. that's one of the first things he's got to learn. 'be prepared' is the slogan of the boy scouts; but in order to get the best out of anything, a fellow has to keep awake all the time." "i guess that's so," admitted step-hen, rather sheepishly. "giraffe is smart, and if anybody thinks to get ahead of him he must wake up early in the morning. just wait till we try this game a second time, and see." thad was more than satisfied. he believed the lesson would not be wasted on the ambitious scouts. even bumpus would use more care in making haste, and look for treacherous roots that always lay in wait for his clumsy feet. while smithy, it might be understood, would either have his cup thoroughly clean to start with, or let a few innocent grains of coffee go unnoticed. "i don't know why," remarked allan, as they were cooking a little lunch that noon; "but somehow that island over there looks mighty inviting to me." "do you know," thad remarked, "i've thought the same myself, and some of the other fellows have their minds set on it. if we only had some way of getting over, i might think of changing our camp, and going across. of course i could swim over and see what the island is like, but that wouldn't do us any good without a boat." "a boat up here is something nobody ever saw, i reckon, suh," said bob white. "it certainly does look cool and fine across the water there; and i suppose the bear could swim it if we chose to go; unless we made up our minds to turn the old rascal loose," step-hen put in. "say, i think myself he'd follow us, we've fed him so well since he came in on us," giraffe grumbled; for it certainly did provoke him to see a shaggy beast devouring good food that human beings could make use of. "why, i had to get up from breakfast hungry because of him. the island for mine, if it's going to help us get rid of our star boarder any quicker." "star boarder!" mimicked step-hen; "well, that's a joke i take it; because all of us have got our minds made up who fills that bill, all right." but giraffe pretended not to notice what was said. he did not like to have his comrades pay too much attention to his little weakness in the food line. "how about my being rewarded for coming in first in the water boiling test, mr. scout-master?" he called out. "wasn't there something held out as an inducement, a sort of prize, so to speak? seems to me you said the feller that won might have the privilege of making the big camp-fire this evening; and that would be reward enough for me, i tell you." "that was the offer, giraffe," replied thad; "and i'm going to give you that chance, on one condition only. it is that you promise not to carry a single match around with you this blessed day." giraffe knew only too well what that meant, for he understood how thad worried over his propensity for starting fires at any time the notion came upon him. he gave a big sigh, shook his head, and then handed over his matchsafe, remarking: "well, i reckon i'll just have to comply with the rules; but it's pretty hard on a feller, not to have just _one_ match along, in case he needs it right bad. but anyhow, it's me to build that big blaze to-night, remember, boys, and i'm going to make your eyes shine, the way i do it, too." chapter xii. bumpus makes a find. "i say, thad, come over here with me; i've got something to show you," remarked allan, about half an hour after they had finished lunch, and while most of the boys were lying around, taking it easy. the young acting scout-master quickly followed his chum, who led the way back of the tents and into the timber. here they discovered giraffe, bending down, and so industriously engaged with some object he had in hand that he seemed to pay no attention to anything else. at first thad thought the boy was sawing something, for there was a continuous movement to his right arm, and a sort of low, buzzing sound; but then he knew they had not brought a saw of any kind along with them, an ax and a hatchet being the only tools considered necessary in camp. presently giraffe halted, to draw out a red bandana handkerchief with which to wipe his dripping forehead, while he stared hard at the object he had before him, and looked dubious enough. thad saw now what it was, and he could hardly keep from laughing as the determined boy once more started sawing away as though his very life depended on his accomplishing the end he had in view. the object he had in his right hand was a queer sort of a little bow, made by fastening a stout cord to a piece of bent hickory. this cord was doubled around a stick that stood upright, its pointed lower end placed in a sort of hollow wooden dish where a socket had been scooped out. the upper was also kept from burning the hand of the aspiring scout by another bit of wood. of course thad knew what giraffe was trying to do. deprived of matches for the balance of the day, and feeling a gnawing desire to see a fire sparkling, the scout had started in to try and make a blaze after the old-fashioned method used by some south sea islanders. but evidently the boy did not twirl the stick fast enough to produce sufficient heat to make the fine tinder smoke, and then take fire. giraffe's ambition was commendable, however, and so thad said nothing; only crept away again, after touching allan on the arm, and beckoning. "what are you going to do about it?" asked the latter, when they had reached a safe position, where their voices might not be heard by the object of their attention. "why, nothing, i suppose," replied thad, smiling. "did you ever see such a fellow in all your life? he's a regular fire worshipper. i think he must have come down from the old aztecs in mexico. he's never happy without his little blaze." "but he might get fire after all?" protested allan. "between you and me, my boy, i don't think he will this time. evidently he's never tried that game before; and no fellow ever succeeds at it the first time. it's harder than it seems. let giraffe work away; he'll have his fingers sore with the business before he gives up." "but what do you think makes him experiment that way right now, when he knows you're trying to put a curb on his weakness for building fires?" the other demanded. "well, in the first place, i suppose he feels like starting _something_; and then again, allan, it's a part of a boy's nature, you know, to always want to do that very thing he's been told he musn't do. now, giraffe wants to show me that even keeping matches away from him won't prevent a really smart scout from making a fire, in case he feels like it. my praise of this morning must have spurred him on to let us see just what he can do." "but if the bow and spindle way turns out bad, there's an easier chance for him, if he only thinks of it," said the maine boy. "what's that?" asked thad, smiling calmly. "why, all he's got to do is to take one of the lens out of the field glasses we have along with us; and as the sun is hot enough, he could set fire to some tinder in three shakes of a lamb's tail. why, i've started fires that way dozens of times myself, when matches were scare with us in the pine woods." thereupon thad quietly drew something, from each pocket in his khaki trousers. "well, i declare, you thought of that same thing, didn't you?" exclaimed the astonished allan; "and took the trouble to remove both lens, so as to upset his calculations if he started to try the dodge. giraffe has to be pretty cunning to get ahead of you, all right, thad." "but i never imagined he'd be trying that saw method," admitted the scout-master. "there, he's given it up and thrown his bow away. next time he'll like as not make some improvement on that outfit. it must have been faulty, so he just couldn't get enough speed out of it. for the thing can be done; and i've seen it more than once, though i never could make fire that way myself." "giraffe has one good quality," admitted allan, "and that's persistance. once he makes up his mind to do a thing and he hates the worst kind to quit." "especially around grub time," chuckled the other. "oh! that's a little weakness of his. step-hen says he must have hollow legs, or how else could he stow away all he does, and never show it. but just look how the sun shines on the trees over across the water, where that pretty little island lies in the middle of the lake. i never saw a nicer camping place, thad." "and the same here," admitted the scout-master. "i've about made up my mind i'd like to investigate that island, even if we can't hope to get the whole outfit over. you're a good swimmer, allan, what do you say to going across?" "alone, or with you?" asked the other, quickly. "oh! i wouldn't think of sending any one alone," remarked the scout-master. "you know, some of the boys have already said the island had a terrible mysterious look, as though it might be concealing some wonderful secret. the more they talk about it, and speculate that way, the stronger grows my desire to explore it." "then let's call it a go. think we can leave the rest of the patrol alone for an hour or two this afternoon?" asked allan, eagerly, as he too cast wistful looks across the shimmering water toward the strange little island that lay nestling there so modestly. "if they're put on their honor to behave, they'll be all right," replied thad. "a scout must never dream of breaking his word, once given. that is a part of his creed, you know, allan; and even bumpus understands that." "by the way, where is bumpus; i haven't noticed him around in camp for ten minutes or more?" remarked the second in command. "i suppose he's wandering around somewhere close by," replied thad. "bumpus certainly has got a big bump of curiosity, and is always poking into everything he can think of. i heard him asking you this very morning when you would find a bee-tree for him, the way you used to do up in maine. he's just bound to get honey, if there's any to be found around this region." "yes, and i said i would try it out while we were up here, if the chance came. you see, perhaps there mightn't happen to be any wild bees around, for i haven't noticed 'em working." "oh! make up your mind to that," declared thad. "i've heard several farmers tell how they lost a fine swarm, no matter how much racket they kicked up with dishpans and all sorts of tin buckets. there are lots of bee trees in this region i'd be willing to wager now. and if we could find one, it would be great. i like honey about as well as the next fellow, don't you forget it, allan." "there goes giraffe into the tent; and from the sly way he looked around, i've got an idea he's suddenly remembered the lens in that field glass, and means to try one of them with the rays of the sun, to make a little fire." "yes, allan, i saw him; and just as you say, if his manner counts for anything, that's just what giraffe has in hand. but won't he be the most surprised boy in seven counties when he finds that the lens have been taken from the glass?" "there he comes out now, and say, don't he look sheepish, though?" allan went on to remark. "i can see him peeping out of the corner of his eye at you; and just make up your mind giraffe is saying to himself that it's a mean game to cheat a poor fellow out of a little expected pleasure that way." "on the other hand," remarked the scout-master, "i reckon he feels cheap to know that i'm on to his game, and have made ready to upset his calculations. but next time i'll put him on his honor not to try and make a fire in any way, shape or style. now, i don't fancy going away with bumpus absent. he might get into trouble while we were off. perhaps i'd better take his bugle, and give a few notes to let him know he's wanted." "a fine idea, thad," observed allan; "i'll go and get it for you, as i happen to know just where bumpus keeps it inside the tent here. he's just the opposite of step-hen, and never leaves his things scattered around." he had even climbed to his feet, for they were sitting at the time, when there broke out a sudden clamor that caused allan to turn quickly, and give his superior officer a meaning look. for the voice that made all that racket was only too well known to both boys; in that it belonged to the very scout about whom they had been talking. bumpus must be in some trouble again, if they could judge from the noise he was making. immediately visions of rattlesnakes, and all manner of dangers connected with the forest trails, flashed into the mind of thad. what could the luckless fat boy have stumbled into now? that bump of curiosity which he was pleased to term his "investigating spirit," must have led him into some fresh difficulty. the boys were all on their feet by this time, and several had even snatched up the stout staves which had proven so useful during their arduous tramp from home to this far-off region of lake omega. "he's coming this way!" called out step-hen, excitedly. "yes, suh, and on the full gallop, too, believe me!" added bob white, actually taking a step forward, as if ready to meet the danger half way, should there any peril develop. thad did not give the order to advance because he had 'ere now discovered that there was no evidence of fright in the shouts of bumpus. rather could he detect a note triumph, as though the fat boy believed he had accomplished something worth while, and was deserving of congratulation. and now all of them could make out what he was calling as he came stumbling along. "hey! fellers, what d'ye think, i've found--oh! that old vine nearly cut my neck in two, plague take it--a boat! yes, a regular boat, hid away in the brush where i was looking for rabbits' tracks; meanin' to learn how to follow the same. and better still, it's got a paddle in it, too. now we c'n go fishing, and have a bully old time exploring that island out yonder. don't you think i ought to get a merit badge, thad, for being so smart, hey?" chapter xiii. the mysterious island. sure enough, when the others followed the proud bumpus through the woods for a little distance, and then down close to the edge of the water, they found that he had really come upon a boat in a dense thicket, where it had evidently been hidden. "must a belonged to some of them game keepers that rich man hired to watch his property up here," declared step-hen, as he examined the craft, while they all crowded around. "looky here, got a bully old paddle under the seats too!" called out giraffe, holding up the article in question, admiringly, after they had turned the canoe over. "ain't this a great find, though?" declared bob white, who was particularly fond of the water, and boats of all kinds. bumpus smote himself on the chest, and puffed out his fat cheeks, as he looked around at his comrades. "make fun of that wonderful investigating instinct of mine, will you, boys?" he remarked; "well, see what a feller gets for being persevering, and wanting to learn all the while. now, if i'd been like, say step-hen here, and content to lay around after eating, where'd we be about the boat question? but i wanted to find out why a rabbit makes two marks with its front paws and only one with the hind legs; and so i looked around to see if there wasn't a track where we saw that bunny scoot away yesterday when we got here. i didn't find the tracks, but i did run across a boat!" "it was all right, bumpus," said thad; "and i'm going to congratulate you on it. a scout can be a bit curious, and keep on the right side, too. but allan, there's no need of our taking that long swim, now." "and no need of both of us being away at the same time," remarked the other, who did not feel easy about leaving such careless fellows as bumpus and giraffe behind, since there could be no telling what trouble might not follow. "suppose you draft bob white to do the paddling, thad; he just dotes on that sort of thing, you know." the eyes of the southern boy gleamed with delight. "i surely do the same, suh; and if so be you think to take me along on the exploring expedition i'll be proud to accompany you. depend on me to do the work, and glad of the chance. i just love to be in a boat, any kind of boat from a dugout to a cedar canoe. and this paddle isn't so bad, even if home-made." thad bent down to examine closer. then he turned to give allan a little nod that brought the other quickly to his side. the two leaned over where they could exchange a few words without the others hearing what was said. "did you notice that the boat was turned upside-down when found?" asked thad, first of all. "yes, that was done to keep the rain from filling it, i reckoned," replied the maine boy. "they do that up my way too; because you see, if water stays very long in a boat it rots it. no matter what it's built of, canvas, cedar, or birch bark, water in a boat is a bad thing." "some of the boys think this boat has been lying here since the game keepers left this part of the country; which, as i understand it, must have been quite a few months ago?" thad went on to say. "yes, that's what i heard them saying," returned the other. "and what do you think?" asked the scout-master. allan knew that he was on trial. he also understood that there must be something suspicious about the boat to make thad speak in this way. so he instantly scanned it, foot by foot, from one end to the other; after which his eyes sought the paddle which giraffe was still handling. then he smiled. "i'm on to what you mean, thad," he observed. "that paddle has been in the water not a great many hours ago, for it's still wet. yes, and inside the boat i can see signs that point to the same thing." "last night, perhaps, while we were sleeping here, this boat was being used on the lake by some person or persons," thad continued, earnestly; while the balance of the scouts disputed among themselves as to who should be given the privilege of accompanying bob white and thad on the trip to the island. thad looked a little serious. "kind of queer, any way you take it," he remarked. "our camp-fire could have been seen easy enough by any fellow who was landing here, and hiding his boat. then tell me why he didn't come into camp, and see who we were? seems to me any honest man would have been glad to do that same thing." "say, perhaps he doesn't happen to be honest, thad?" suggested allan, in rather a hushed voice; for there was something a little mysterious about the finding of this boat that excited his curiosity more or less, and caused strange ideas to form in his boyish mind. "oh! i hardly think it could be as bad as that," thad hastened to remark. "just because he avoided our camp doesn't mean that he's a thief, or a rascal, i take it. perhaps he saw we were boy scouts; and most men wouldn't want to bother knowing a parcel of boys in their first camp." "but what could he be doing, away up here in this lonely place?" asked the other. "well, of course i don't pretend to know," replied the scout-master; "but then i might give a guess. suppose one of the men who used to be hired to guard these preserves of that rich gentleman who meant to make a game park here, after the idea was given up, took a notion to come back up here for some reason. he might be getting ready to trap animals in the fall; or shoot deer out of season. then again, perhaps this same lake was stocked with game fish some years ago, and a couple of smart fishermen might take out a heap of bass that would net them a lot of money in the market. sometimes they use nets too, allan, when the game wardens are far away." "i know," replied the other. "it's just the same up in my country, i'm sorry to say. but are you going over to take a look at that island just the same, thad?" "sure thing; and as the boat is large enough, to hold three or four without crowding, perhaps i'd better pick another to go along. step-hen, how would you like to help bob white, bumpus and myself look that island over?" step-hen was about to give an affirmative answer, when he just happened to remember something. "guess i'll have to decline the chance this time, thad," he remarked, making a wry face. "thought i felt the signs of one of my fits comin' on, a while back. i'd sure hate to have anything like that happen in such a cranky little boat; 'cause it might upset, you know." "oh! all right, then just the three of us will go," returned thad, carelessly. but there was one who had heard what step-hen said, with suspicion in his heart. of course this was bumpus. he looked at the other, and catching a sly glance cast in his direction, immediately sized up the situation. so marching directly into the camp, bumpus plunged into the tent to which he was assigned, appearing with his haversack in his hands. and this he deliberately hung on a nail that had been driven into a tree, in plain sight of all who might happen to be in camp. everybody saw the act, and could guess what the motive was that actuated bumpus to do this queer thing. step-hen turned somewhat red in the face, as he felt the eyes of his comrades turned toward him. "huh!" he exclaimed, "think you're funny, don't you, bumpus? seems to me you're mighty careful of that old bag of yours. if you had a lump of gold in it you couldn't handle it nicer. and sometimes haversacks do hold all sorts of queer things. i've known lost knives, and medals, yes, and even _compasses_ to get in 'em. hung it out to air, did you? mighty afraid somebody might _happen_ to peek in it by accident when you was gone, ain't you?" but bumpus never made any reply, only grinned, and looked wise, as though he felt satisfied at having outgeneraled the cunning step-hen, and spiked his guns. the boat upon being launched was found to be water tight. this fact went far toward convincing thad that his suspicions regarding its having been recently used were based on a good foundation. had it been lying there ashore for weeks, and possibly months, it would have been leaky; and required many hours' soaking before the wood swelled enough to stop this fault. thad took up his position in the bow, while the heavy weight of the expedition, bumpus, who had been invited to go because of his discovery of the boat, occupied the middle. bob white, paddle in hand, shoved off; and then squatted in the stern to propel the craft. they soon saw that he was indeed an adept with the paddle. even the maine boy, standing there on the shore, called out words of commendation when he saw how cleverly bob white feathered his paddle, and seemed able to do almost anything he wished without removing its blade from the water. often when a hunter is creeping up on a feeding deer in the water, this proves to be a valuable quality, in allowing him to get closer than would be possible did the water drip from the blade of the paddle every time it was raised above the surface. and so they headed straight for the mysterious island. thad was turned half-way around in his seat, so that he could observe the shore they were rapidly approaching. and bumpus, squatted there amidships like a big frog, kept his eyes fastened on the same place, with a growing feeling of uneasiness. he even wished now that he had not been so greedy to take part in this exploring expedition. after all, it was much more comfortable ashore, than in a cranky boat that wobbled every time he chanced to move his weight from one side to the other. and then again, there was something rather queer about that same island; the trees and bushes grew so very dense all over it, and bumpus wondered if it might not be the home of wildcats, or even something worse. one or twice he imagined he could see staring eyes among the bushes, but was ashamed to mention the fact to his chums. the boat had arrived at a point within about eighty feet of the shore when there came to the ears of the three boys a sudden gurgling sound that sent the blood leaping through their veins much faster than ordinarily might be the case. thad turned his head to see what bumpus and bob white might appear to think of that thrilling sound; for it was not repeated; and although plainly heard, thad could not at the time make up his mind whether it was a husky voice calling aloud for help, or some bird uttering its discordant scream. chapter xiv. marooned. "w-w-what d'ye think it was, thad?" asked bumpus, presently; and the fact was very evident that his teeth were rattling at a lively rate, warm though the afternoon sun was at the time. bob white said nothing, only he tried to read the face of their leader. bob gave promise of making the finest kind of a boy scout. he was next door to fearless; or at any rate would scorn to allow his natural feelings to sway him when he believed a sense of duty required his doing something. "well, at first _i_ thought it might be somebody calling for help," replied thad, slowly; "but you notice that it wasn't repeated. and that makes me think now it must have been some fishhawk screaming. i've known them to make a queer sort of a sound." "just what it must have been," remarked bob, nodding his head in approval. bumpus, however, did not seem to be wholly satisfied. "say, it went right through me," he observed. "i just seemed to have a cold feeling run up and down my spine, like you'd emptied a cup of ice-water down my neck. think we've seen enough of the old island by now, thad? hadn't we better be turning around, and heading back for camp?" "well, i should say not, bumpus, bless your timid soul," replied thad, laughingly. "why, that only makes bob here and myself the more anxious to land, and look the island over. if there's anything queer around, we ought to find out all about it. am i right, bob?" the answer the southern lad made was very suggestive. he simply dipped his paddle into the water again, and with several sturdy movements of his arms sent the boat forward once more, headed directly for the shore of the island. bumpus drew up his plump shoulders, but he made no protest. it would not have done him much good if he did try to say anything. no doubt they would have told him that the walking back to camp was good, and no dust blowing, if he wanted to return. he simply gripped both sides of the boat, and held on, while keeping his eyes fastened on the shore they were now fast approaching. no further sounds were heard, save the water lapping among the rocks, and giving out a musical gurgling in the rising wind. "there's a good landing where that little sandy beach runs along," thad remarked, as they drew in closer. "so it is, suh," replied the paddler. "i was just making up my mind to head foh it when you spoke. here she goes, now." thad was half standing, and as the prow of the boat grated on the sand he made a flying leap for the shore. bumpus looked as though he half expected to see some terrible monster dart out of the brushwood, and seize upon the scout-master. he heaved a sigh of relief when nothing of the sort came about; and even condescended to waddle ashore himself--that is the only word capable of doing justice to the clumsy actions of bumpus when in a narrow boat like a canoe. so the three scouts now stood on the sandy beach. bumpus scanned the bushes, but thad was observing certain marks on the little sandy beach that told him others had drawn a boat up in that same place before now. in fact, to judge from the freshness of the signs, it had not been very long ago since men or boys were here. now, there is something in the makeup of certain lads calculated to draw them on, when there is an element of uncertainty in the air. thad had been curious to explore this island before; and now that he had seen signs of others having landed, he began to feel doubly anxious. perhaps it was the "call of the wild" in his composition; or possibly he had inherited some trait bordering on a love of adventure, handed down from some remote ancestor who may have roamed the world seeking excitement. "are you really going in there, thad?" asked bumpus, his face showing signs of uneasiness as he surveyed the fringe of bushes under the dense trees that overhung them. "that's just what we expect to do, bumpus," replied the scout-master, firmly. "you may pull the boat up further, and follow after us; or if you prefer staying by the boat, you can do that, just as you please. ready, bob?" "yes, suh, and more than anxious to be on the move," answered the southern boy. they turned their backs on poor bumpus, who found himself in a quandary, hardly knowing which course would be the worse for him to pursue, tag at the heels of these two adventurous comrades, and meet with what danger they might unearth; or stay there alone with the boat. he quickly decided that it would be far more risky to separate from his comrades. if the island _did_ contain savage beasts, which bumpus really believed to be the case, they would be sure to select such a nice juicy morsel as he promised to afford, in preference to one of the other fellows. and it horrified him to think of being pounced on while all by himself. "hold on, thad, i'm coming along!" he called out, hurrying as best he could so as to overtake the other scouts, who were already plunging boldly into the heavy growth. being eager to keep in close touch with the others, bumpus quickly overtook them, and panting with the effort, jogged along as close as he could get. at any rate, if trouble should spring out upon them, there was always a satisfaction in having loyal comrades along. and bumpus noted with considerable satisfaction that both of the others had armed themselves with stout cudgels, fully three feet in length, with which they would be able to give a good account of themselves if the occasion arose when defense would be necessary. "oh!" exclaimed the fat boy, when with a sudden whirr a partridge arose close beside them, and flew away with a rapid motion. he saw the southern boy throw his stick to his shoulder, as though taking aim. "oh! what a dandy shot that would have been, thad, if i had had a gun!" bob exclaimed, eagerly. "i could have dropped that beauty like a stone." "well," replied the other, "since it's the close season on partridges perhaps it's just as well you didn't have a gun. but i wouldn't be surprised if we got up more'n a few of those fellows here. the island would be a great place for their nests." "then i wish they'd let a poor feller know when they meant to scoot off," remarked bumpus, wiping his face with his handkerchief; "because that one nigh scared me to death, he went buzzing off so sudden-like." "you'll never make a hunter, whatever else you turn out to be, bumpus," thad remarked, smiling, as he turned to look at the red face of the perspiring fat boy. "i don't know," the other said, with a vein of regret in his voice; "i always wanted to roam the woods, and do all that sort of thing; but then you see nature, she wasn't kind to me. i don't seem to be made just right for tramping. and i must say some things do make my heart jump like fun. oh! well, there are other things a scout c'n do, perhaps,--findin' boats, and lookin' for bee trees mebbe." "lots of things, bumpus," replied thad. "you can't change your make-up; and so you'll have to do what suits you best. shall we head to the left here, bob; or take to the right?" secretly thad was keeping his eyes on the ground part of the time as he pushed on. he had an idea they might find footprints that would lead the way to some old cabin or hangout, where perhaps the game-keepers used to live when they were employed to patrol the district, so that no one hunted or fished against the orders of the rich man who owned the country around. "well," replied the other, after taking a glance about him, "i don't suppose it matters much which way we turn, since we propose to look over the entire island one way or another, suh. say we turn off here to the left, and circle around. or if you would rather have it, we might separate and spread out like a fan." bumpus drew in his breath with a half gasp. it looked so very gloomy around the spot which they had reached that not for worlds would he drift away from his association with one or the other of his companions. besides, they might need him in some way or other; because there were _some_ things he could do, if he wasn't cut out for an agile fellow because of his heft. "no, we'd better all keep together, i think?" thad answered, much to his relief. "you see, we're in a strange situation, and even if we put in half an hour looking this place over, what does it matter? time isn't so valuable as all that. the others will wait for us, and take things easy. allan has promised to show them some indian picture writing this afternoon, and i know he'll amuse the bunch so they won't miss us." "now, i'd be sorry to miss that same myself," remarked bob; "because he's got me worked up to top notch fever about it, and i wanted to try and read the sign he left behind him. i've sure heard a heap about that picture writing, and what fun scouts have trying to make out what it all means. but there don't seem to be anything out of the way on this same island, suh. a sure enough pretty place, and would make the finest camp-site you ever saw." "perhaps we may move over here to-morrow," said thad. "i've several reasons for thinking that way." "one of which is that you'd like to get rid of that bear," chuckled bob. "don't be too sure of that," answered the other; "we might want to fetch him over here with us. he did us one good turn when he frightened that brose griffin crowd away, and who knows but what he might repeat?" they came out on the other side of the island, and had seen no sign of any sort of human habitation. on the way back again to the other shore thad took a different route, so that he believed they would thus cover the better part of the territory that went to make up the lake island. "sure we're heading right, thad?" asked bob, presently. "oh! my goodness i hope we don't get lost!" exclaimed bumpus, in alarm. "it's all right," replied thad, with not a trace of uneasiness in his voice; "we are pretty nearly across now; and unless i've made a bungle of it, we ought to come out right on that same little sandy stretch where we landed." "i can hear the waves beating against the rocks, and they sound right loud now," remarked bumpus. "that must be because the wind has been getting stronger all the time we've been gone; and even now you notice the trees begin to thin out. tell me, isn't that our sandy stretch right ahead there, and am i a good woodsman or not?" "you brought us through as straight as a die," said bob, admiringly; "and just as you say, thad, that's the same spot we landed on." "but tell me," broke in bumpus, "if that's so, where's our boat, fellows?" the others stared, and well they might, for although they easily recognized the pretty little beach, it was now entirely destitute of any sign of a boat! chapter xv. the boy from the blue ridge. "i expected this, but not so soon!" quavered bumpus, dropping in a heap on the ground, and continuing to mop his heated face with that enormous bandana. the other two walked forward. "we must make sure that this is the same place," remarked thad. "because, you see, there might happen to be two little sandy beaches very much alike." "no danger of that, suh!" declared bob, with conviction in his manner. "i took right good notice of a heap of things, and they all seem to tally. this is the same place, i give you my word on that." "well, here's all the proof we want," said the scout-master, pointing down at his feet, as they stood close to where the little waves were running over most of the sandy stretch. "the water has washed out some of our footprints; but you can still see where bumpus tripped at the edge of the rise here, where that root sticks up a little. remember that, don't you bumpus?" "that, you're it," replied the fat boy, getting up to come forward, and stare at the marks he had made, as though they confirmed his worst fears. "and now fellers, you see the blessed old island _has_ got people hidin' on it! they came back here and hooked our boat while we were poking along through the scrub like a bunch of geese. now, how are we going to get back home? we'll just starve to death out here. and step-hen he c'n turn my bag inside-out while i'm gone, too!" that last seemed to worry him more than anything else, thad noticed, with a little surprise; because he did not believe for a minute that bumpus knew anything about the compass which step-hen accused him of hiding. they looked across the wide stretch of water. the waves were indeed dancing at quite a lively rate now, showing that a fresh breeze had started up since they started on their little exploring trip. thad suddenly conceived an idea. perhaps it was the wash of the waves against the bank that gave it to him. he turned on bumpus. "see here, how far up did you pull that boat?" he asked, suddenly. the fat boy stared, and scratched his head. "do you mean when we first landed; or afterwards when you told me to come along or stay here, just whichever i liked?" he asked; but it was only to gain a little time that he said this, because he already knew what the answer would be. "when bob and myself were going into the brush i told you to pull the boat up, and either stay here, or follow. did you do it, bumpus?" thad went on. "oh! i heard you say it, all right," admitted the fat boy, frankly; "but when i looked back, it seemed to me that the old boat was far enough up on the sand; and then you fellers were making off so fast i just thought you'd leave me alone if i didn't hurry. so i just put after you, pellmell." "well, that's what's the matter," said thad, with a look of disgust. "next time see to it that you obey orders, no matter what you happen to think." "then the boat's drifted away, suh, you think?" bob remarked, eagerly. "that's what i imagine," replied thad. "notice which way the wind is coming, and you can see that it throws the water up on this beach, which is wasn't doing when we left here. once she was loose and the same breeze would make her move along past that little wooded point yonder. i reckon that if we climb out there, we'll see the boat adrift." "but why haven't some of the boys ashore noticed it, and let out a whoop to draw our attention?" asked the boy from the blue ridge. "they may have been too busy to look this way," answered thad; "and then, besides, the boat would be carried behind the island so they couldn't see it. come on, and we'll soon find out." "but if we don't find it however am i going to get on the main land again?" complained bumpus. "well, it would serve you right if you did have to stay here alone awhile," thad told him, with a sternness in his face which the merry twinkle in his eyes belied. "after being so shiftless as to let such an accident happen, you surely deserve to suffer. isn't that right, bumpus; own up now?" "oh! i suppose it might be;" the fat boy admitted; "but i hope you won't think of leaving me out here all alone. i might get a scare, and be tempted to jump in; and you know what a poor swimmer i am, thad. oh! bully, bully, there she is, thad, and floating along just as sassy as anything!" the boat was not more than a hundred and fifty feet away, though by degrees moving further off all the while, as the wind and the waves influenced her movements. "now somebody will have to strip and go after her," said thad. "and if you were a better swimmer, i'd say it ought to be you, bumpus." "you'll have to excuse me this time, thad," declared the other, earnestly. "but are you sure it was only the wind that carried her off?" "you can see for yourself that there's no one in the boat, using the paddle," the scout-master replied. "that's so, thad, but seems as if i c'd see somethin' in the water under her bow; and it looks like two hands holding on to the gunnel above, just as if somebody might be swimmin' along and dragging the boat after him." both the others broke out into a laugh at that. "i see that imagination of yours is working overtime, bumpus," remarked thad; and then turning to the southern boy he went on: "shall it be you or i, bob?" "i hope you'll let me go after her, suh," said the other, quickly, beginning to throw off some of his clothes, as if anticipating a favorable decision on the part of his superior officer in the silver fox patrol. "go then, if you want to, bob," suggested thad, smiling; for he was being drawn closer to this gallant son of the sunny south every day; and constantly found new causes for admiring the other's self sacrificing disposition. inside of three minutes bob white went in from the headland with a splash, and swam toward the floating boat like a water spaniel. reaching the runaway he was seen to clamber aboard, after which he picked up the paddle, and started to urge the boat toward the shore again. not until then did bumpus seem to heave a sigh of relief. evidently the poor fellow had really expected to see some dreadful enemy clasp bob around the neck as he started to slip over the side of the boat. after bob had resumed his clothes, they entered the boat, and left the vicinity of the island. thad kept looking it over as they gradually moved further away, as if not satisfied, by any means, with what little he had seen of the place. "yes," he remarked, "i'm pretty much of a mind to put it to the fellows; and if the majority favors, we'll change our camp to-morrow, for a try on the island. there's _something_ about that place that seems to draw me." "well, i'm sorry to hear that," declared bumpus, dolefully; "because i just know they'll want to ferry over--allan because he's ready to do anything you say; step-hen, for he wants to meet up with all sorts of adventures, and says he means to get away out in the rockies some of these days; smithy because he's afraid you'll all think him weak and girlish if he draws back; and giraffe too when he gets the idea that mebbe we'll be leaving the bear behind; because it'll mean just so much more left for him to eat. huh! if i'm the minority, might as well make it unanimous, and be done with it. can't die but once, anyhow, so what does it matter?" of course neither of the others paid much attention to what bumpus said. he always liked to hear himself talk; and as his comrades said, his "bark was worse than his bite." bumpus often said he wouldn't, and changed his mind immediately. when they landed the others were just about starting out to have allan show how the long talked-of indian picture writing was done. they asked questions, of course but neither thad nor bob would gratify their curiosity. "we're going to keep all that for around the camp-fire to-night boys," declared the scout-master, firmly. "wouldn't interrupt this arrangement for anything. and to tell the truth we didn't find anything so serious as to warrant a recall. so go right along with the game, allan, and let the rest of us in on it; because bob here is as eager to learn as any of the boys." bumpus, however, declared he was that tired he preferred staying in the camp, to keep the bear company. "he might get loose and try to clean us out of all our grub," he suggested, with a broad smile. "sure," replied step-hen, sneeringly; "and i just warrant you've already got your tree all picked out beforehand, if he does. much good you'd be trying to defend our provisions. now, if it was _me_, i'd fight to the last gasp before i'd let him make way with a single piece of cheese, or even a cracker." "i believe you would, step-hen," replied bumpus, calmly; "and by the way, perhaps my knapsack has aired enough by now, so i'll put it in the tent again." step-hen made a face at him, and hurried away after the rest; but from the manner in which he looked back a number of times, and continued to shake his head as he talked to himself, it was plain to be seen that he still believed the fat boy was hiding something in that same haversack, which he did not wish any one, particularly a fellow named step-hen bingham, to set eyes on. and what else could that be but the missing compass, which bumpus had once so indignantly denied having seen, after he handed it back to its owner? allan did not intend going far, since there was no need of it. he could illustrate all he wished to in the way of the famous indian picture writing, which boy scouts in other troops had found so interesting a study in connection with woodcraft. even thad, who had dabbled in it to some extent in the past, was deeply concerned; because he knew that the more these boys became interested in observing things that were happening all around them, the sooner they would climb up the ladder leading to merit badges, and a right to the name of a first class scout. chapter xvi. the pictures that talked. "what's that allan's got in his hand?" asked davy jones, as the little party reached an open spot, and the maine boy came to a halt. "looks like a strip of fresh birch bark," remarked giraffe. "just what it is," allan spoke up, "and if you watch me, you'll see how the poor indian, not carrying a hammer and nails along, finds a way to leave his message so that it attracts the attention he wants, just as well as if he nailed it against the trunk of a tree." he bent down, broke off a long wand from a bush, and seemed to partly split one end of this. into the crotch he inserted the birch bark. the other end he pushed into the ground. "there you are, fellows," allan went on. "when you reach this point along the trail of your friend, you find that he has left this message for you. being an indian, or a border man used to the ways of the indians, you take the strip of bark in your hands, and examine it. to the eye of the experienced one it is as plain as so many words would be to all of us. here, look at what i've written, boys." "say, it's a cute little boy's idea of a procession," remarked step-hen; "for i take it that all these figures must be meant for men." "and i can see a fire burning, right here," declared giraffe, eagerly. "what's this four-legged critter, a wolf or a dog?" asked step-hen, pointing to the object he had in mind. "what would you say, thad?" asked allan, smiling. "well, it strikes me that it must be a dog, because you've made it have a curly tail; and no wolf was ever known to possess such a thing. besides, it always appears close to the heels of one of the men, and the same one too; so i should say it belongs to that fellow." "just exactly what i wanted to convey," allan went on, nodding his head in approval. "now, if you'll pay close attention, fellows, i'll show you how easy it is to write messages this way. just as step-hen said, it's like a boy trying to show his first skill in drawing; but in this case every little mark has its meaning." "it's interesting, all right, allan," observed davy jones. "that's right, it is," echoed smithy, who had apparently never before realized what a delightful thing it was to get out in the woods with a parcel of chums, and discover what strange things can be found there. "now, here is what the man in advance is telling the one who comes after," continued the boy who knew. "he is himself following on the track of a party of enemies, and has discovered certain facts connected with their movements, which he wishes to communicate to his comrade coming after, so as to gave him the trouble of wasting time in investigating for himself. and here's the way he does it." he held the birch bark up so all could see. six pair of eager eyes were immediately glued upon the marks which he had made on the smooth brown inside bark, with possibly the point of his knife, just as the real indian might. "first, you see, here are five figures represented," allan began. "that means the total number of the enemy, don't it?" asked davy, quickly. "just what it does, and i'm glad to see how you catch on," continued allan. "now, after telling how many foes they have ahead, the scout tries to mark each one in some way so they can be distinguished all through the letter. here's a fellow who seems to be one-armed, for he always appears that way. a second is very tall, you notice, while a third is a dwarf, and a fourth limps a little, for his leg is bent some in every picture. the fifth wears a hat; and as for the sixth, he must be feeling the effects of looking into a bottle too many times; because he wobbles some as he pursues his way. got all that, fellows?" "sure, and it's some interesting, allan," declared step-hen. "well, they've been in camp here, for you can see the remains of a fire, but with very little smoke ascending, showing that it is nearly dead. they have gone due northeast after breaking camp. here are five marks like the pickets on a fence, just alongside this cross. now, what would you think those meant?" "looks to me as if the men had gone five miles up to that cross," thad remarked. "just what i was going to say," said davy, disappointed to come in second. "both of you have hit the nail on the head," laughed allan; "for that is what the indian wants to say. and here at the five mile station the party of hostiles appear to have separated, the tall man and the one who is groggy, together with the dog, going off toward the east; while the others keep on straight. and you can see that our friend chooses to follow the three, for some reason of his own." "here's another picket fence," remarked davy; "this time only four miles." "then what?" asked allan. "there's a crooked line running across. can't be a snake they've struck, because it's too big for that," mused davy. "i know," remarked smithy. "that must be a river, because here's a boat; anyhow, it looks like one to me." "why, of course," broke in bob white; "and i must have been blind not to have glimpsed that before. they've got to a river, and found a boat there. but what do all these funny marks on the river stand for? looks like the three chaps might be in swimming. is that what it means, allan?" "in one way, yes," replied the other, laughing again, for he found it great fun to have his comrades guessing at the explanation of his crude chart. "here you see them standing up in the boat, and all of them are holding their hands over their heads. that is the indian's idea of showing fright." "and just beyond, the boat seems to have broken in two; that shows something happened, i reckon," davy hastened to remark. "well, here the three of them are swimming like ducks, and the boat doesn't appear again, so something _did_ happen. go on allan, this is just as fine as any illustrated rebus i ever struck," thad said, himself deeply interested. "perhaps the one who writes this birch bark message was himself responsible for the sinking of the boat. you failed to notice that just before the accident happened there was a _dot_ on the water close to the boat. that may have been his head, and he managed to cut a hole in the birch bark canoe." "but see here, a little further on you forgot to mark the whole three again; i can only see two, all told," davy declared. "well, evidently then the scout wants to convey the impression that there were only two of the enemy at that time," allan went on. "he must have found some means of disposing of one, either in the water, or from the shore with his gun while they were floundering there." "i guess the two chaps crawled out here on the bank," said step-hen, pointing. "and plunged into the woods too, for here are trees again, and what looks like a trail, leading toward the west, which is marked by a setting sun. an indian always designates a _setting_ sun by the spurs that stand up like spokes; while the sun rising is simply a half circle on the horizon." "well," remarked davy, his eyes round with eagerness; "i declare, this is mighty interesting; and i must get the hang of this indian picture writing as quick as i can. you'll see what stunts i'll do after a little while. i'll sure have the rest of you guessing at the puzzles i get up." "you're near the end of the picture, allan," remarked thad; "and as i can see only one figure ahead now, i think something must have happened to our friend limpy, because he doesn't appear again." "i suppose that the scout who follows must have found a chance to cut down the number of the enemy in advance to one," remarked allan; "and he wants to let his friend know he is still on the trail of that fellow. here the pursued one must have spent the night, for you can see another dead fire. away off here it looks like a village, for there are lodges and dogs and squaws. he marks that as ten miles off, and evidently expects to overtake the lone warrior before he reaches the shelter of the tepees. and so you see he has managed to tell the story of his adventure, crudely of course, yet just as well as any one of us might write it out. and once you've got the knack of reading this sort of talk, you can manage it just as fast as you would hand-writing. that's all i'm going to tell you about it to-day; but if you feel that way another time, i'll show you a lot more that is interesting." davy jones declared that he would keep the maine boy to his promise. this queer way of communicating a whole story without writing a single letter seemed to appeal to him especially. and all that evening he was scribbling away upon a pad of paper he had brought along, drawing all manner of remarkable figures, which he jumbled up in such a way that he actually forgot the key to the combinations; and had to get allan's help in solving some of them, which the others considered a rich joke. during the balance of the afternoon the boys amused themselves in various ways. several tried the fishing, with the result that there was a good mess of gamey bass caught for supper. thad, allan and bob white lay in the shade for a long time, talking. the southern boy was eagerly telling his chums various things in connection with his old home away off in the distant blue ridge; and from the way the others asked questions it was evident that the proposition to have the silver fox patrol visit the mountain region where bob had once lived must have sunk deeply into their minds. "i know one thing sure," remarked thad; "if we're lucky enough to go there, i'm going to carry my shotgun along. a boy scout as a rule is seldom seen bearing arms; but there's nothing in the rules of the organization that i can find to prevent a member from enjoying a hunt when he has the chance. besides, if we camp out, as we expect to, we must depend on getting game for part of our supplies." "and as for the money part," remarked bob, "while a scout is required to earn the money for his suit and outfit, there's nothing to prevent him from accepting a railroad ticket from his folks, or any other cash to provide him with a summer's outing. so far as i can see it, suh, the whole intention of the organization is to make its members manly, independent, helpful to others, and thrifty. i hope, suh, all of us are trying to carry out those rules. and it would please me more than i can tell you, if you decided to accompany me to that mountain country where they grow men; because i am compelled to go there for my mother, and would be the happiest fellow alive if my seven chums went along to keep me company." "don't tell it around, bob," said thad, quietly, "but really it's as good as settled that if we get back from this first little camping trip in good shape, we're going to get the chance to make a bigger tour," and then the three exultant scouts shook hands, as they saw a glorious future prospect opening before them. chapter xvii. the maker of fires. giraffe spent fully half an hour, if not longer, that afternoon, making ample preparations for his anticipated building of the camp-fire that night, after supper had been disposed of. he had his busy jack-knife at work laying in a store of shavings that would flare up in a jiffy, and set the next-sized kindling to going; when by degrees the larger logs would take fire under the fierce heat. thad kept an eye on him, and others were a bit worried lest the boy who just doted on building fires overdo the matter, and set the forest ablaze. "why, you've already got twice too much tinder, giraffe," remonstrated davy jones, as he saw the boy with the knife start in again to cut more. "do for starting the fire in the morning then," replied giraffe. "must be doing something all the time, you know; and i don't enjoy anything half so much as making whittlings for a blaze. you go along with your silly pictures, davy, and let me alone. thad's keeping an eye on me, all right. and i haven't got a single match about me, you know." supper was finally in preparation. the bass had been neatly cleaned by those who had caught them, step-hen and smithy; and for the first time in his life no doubt, the pampered son of the rich widow found himself doing the work of a cook's helper. whether he fancied it or not, step-hen declared that he did his work neatly, and fairly fast; which compliment made smithy's light blue eyes shine with real pleasure. he had entered into a new life, and was evidently resolved to pursue it further, taking the bitter with the sweet. but of course the fish did not constitute the only food they had. healthy appetites like those possessed by the eight scouts could not fare on fish alone. thad, for instance, cared very little for fresh water bass, though fond of catching them. and he saw to it that a large can of corned beef was opened, together with one containing succotash, out of which he constructed a savory dish which he called the canoeists' stew. then besides they had stewed prunes, together with a kettle of boiled rice, over which those who preferred it could sprinkle sugar, and wet down with the evaporated cream which was carried in sealed tins. given the voracious appetites which healthy boys usually carry along with them into camp, and it was amazing how this mess vanished. and giraffe, as he scraped the kettle that had contained the stew, remarked that the only mistake made on the trip had been in providing too small cooking utensils. "make your mind easy, giraffe," said davy; "next time we'll fetch along all our mothers' preserving kettles. fact is, there must be times when even a wash boiler looks about the regulation size, to you!" "that's mean of you, davy," remarked giraffe, when he could make himself heard above the roars of laughter. "just because i happen to have a better appetite than the rest of you, is no reason you should keep on joking a feller about it. you eat twice as much as smithy here, and yet you think that's nothing. well, i happen to be able to go a little further than _you_, that's all. nothing to be ashamed of, is it, thad?" "oh! the boys must have their fun, giraffe; and if you're wise you'll laugh with them," thad remarked. "when they find it doesn't bother you, the chances are they'll quit quizzing you on your eating ability. doctor philander said that the only danger lay in your putting to great a strain on your digestive powers." "well, doctor philander ain't here, and we seem to be getting along o. k. without a regular scout-master, too," remarked davy jones. "i wouldn't care if business kept on chaining him to town whenever the silver fox patrol has a chance to camp out. thad, here, keeps us subdued just about right." the bear had not been forgotten at meal times. thad saw to it that there was enough food given to the animal to satisfy its hunger; though giraffe always complained that it was just ruinous the way that animal did eat into their supplies. "lucky you laid in an extra amount, thad," he remarked that same evening, as he saw the captive make way with all that was placed before him. "guess you must have had an idea we'd have company up here." "why, no, the boys warned me that the fresh air might sharpen up some of our appetites," replied thad; "and i guess it has." "that's just it," said giraffe, quickly; "and i can't be held responsible for what this ozone does, can i, thad? why, ever since we started, i've just got an empty feeling down there, like the bottom had dropped out. half an hour after i fill up, i'm hungry again. it's an awful feeling, let me tell you." "i was just wondering," said thad, "if those two foreigners who own this beast will ever show up to reclaim him." "my stars! i hope so," remarked the other, looking horrified at the very thought of keeping bruin much longer. "but what can we do to let 'em know we've got their old hairy exhibit eating us out of house and home?" "nothing that i know of," laughed thad, "no use advertising, because papers don't circulate through the wilderness; and those ignorant foreigners couldn't read the notice if we put one in. and we can't find where to stick the message even if we printed one in picture writing, as allan had shown us the indians do. guess after all we'll just have to take pot luck, giraffe." "that means, i reckon, that we'll just have to keep on stuffing our good grub down the throat of this silly old bear, until his owners happen along. tough luck, thad! why, oh! why did the beast ever smell us out in the beginning?" "oh! the odor of our supper cooking must have done that," thad went on to say. "if you were almost starved, and got on the track of onions frying, wouldn't you make a bee-line for that camp-fire, and beg to share the meal? that's what he did, came walking in, and in his clumsy way tried to dance himself into our good graces. but the hour was late, and we all made a break for the branches of the trees. i'll never remember that without laughing. it was sure the funniest sight ever." "there's step-hen," giraffe had gone on to remark, "always talking about that uncle of his who lives out somewhere in the wild and woolly west; he says he expects to pay him a visit some day, and brags about how he'll have a chance to bag his grizzly bear then; but excuse me, if a grizzly can eat any more than this tame one; i wouldn't bag him for a gift." "oh! you mistake his meaning," chuckled thad, "when he speaks of bagging a bear he means shooting him and bringing him to bag, not capturing one. the man doesn't live who would try to capture such a monster, single-handed." "have you ever shot one, thad?" "well, hardly, seeing that i've never lived where they grew grizzlies; but the time might come when i would have the chance. i'd like to be able to say i had brought such a fierce beast down. but i want to get back, and keep an eye on that fire you've built. it's sure a wonder, only i wouldn't throw any more wood on it for a long time. those flames shoot up pretty high, right now." "oh! it's just glorious!" declared the young fire worshipper; "and i don't see how i'm ever going to get to sleep to-night for tinkering with it. when i can attend a fire i seem to thrill all over. funny, ain't it, thad, how it affects me? my folks say they'll have to send me to the city, and make a fireman out of me." "well, if they asked my advice," remarked the other, "i'd say you ought to be put on a railroad engine to stoke. inside of a month you'd be so sick of making fires you'd never want to try it again as long as you lived." "hey! don't you go to putting them up to that dodge, then," remarked giraffe, in sudden alarm, "because i don't want to get an overdose of making fires. just now it's a passion with me. i love to sit, and stare into the blaze, because i can see all sorts of things there. why, thad, honest now, they talk to me just like that silly old injun picture writin' does to allan. i read stories in the fires i make." "well," remarked thad, drily; "we'll make sure then, that this camp-fire dies out before we go to our blankets; because i'm bound to know just where you are, giraffe. and now that the bear has finished his supper, and is begging for more, let's go over to the rest of the boys again." "yes, for goodness sake let's get away from here," the other scout said. "somehow or other i just know that beast feels a grudge against me. there's bumpus, as choice a morsel as you'd like to see; yet it's always me the bear is watching. i sometimes believe that if he did get loose, he'd be mean enough to try and make a meal off me." "well, if he can understand english, or even the actions of human beings, you'd admit he's had good cause for disliking you," chuckled thad; "because all along you've put up quite a good-sized objection against our wasting any more food on him. and animals can tell who their friends are, you understand." "is that really so?" giraffe remarked, uneasily; "then me for a tree if ever he does break that chain. and i'm going to keep a way open under the edge of the tent, so i can slide out while he's searching among the lot for me. if i had a gun along. thad, we might enjoy bear steak on this trip yet." "pretty tough eating, believe me; and i'm just as well pleased that you have no rifle," with which thad threw himself down by the roaring fire, the heat of which felt good, since with the coming of night the air had become quite chilly. giraffe soon fell back on his shaving occupation again. allan was telling stories about the maine woods, and enthusing his hearers, so that even smithy was heard to declare that he hoped they would some day have a chance to visit that country, to see for themselves if it was as fine as allan pictured. "i hope it will be in the early fall, then," remarked allan; "because then you would be in time for the late fishing, and the opening of the deer season. that's the best time for going up into the maine woods." davy jones, who had gone down to the edge of the lake to listen to the bass jumping as they fed upon some smaller species of fish, as frequently happens at night time, came hurrying back to the fire just then, his face filled with excitement. thad saw at once that something must have occurred to give the scout a shock; and he wondered whether it could have anything to do with the mystery of the boat, and those footprints over on the island. "the ghost walked, fellers!" exclaimed davy, as he caught his breath again. "what's all that silly talk mean, davy?" demanded the scout-master. "well, he's been prowling around with a lantern, all right, lookin' for something; i give you my word i saw it, thad," davy declared, crossing his heart, boy fashion. "where was all this happening?" pursued thad. "why, over there on the island!" answered davy, positively. chapter xviii. the alarm. davy's words created no end of excitement in the camp of the boy scouts. every fellow jumped to his feet, and several immediately stepped out so that they could get a better view of the dark lake. the stars shone brightly, and gleamed on the tiny wavelets that purled along toward the beach close by. knowing just where the distant island lay, they could manage to locate it by the inky blur that seemed to settle upon the water at this one particular spot. but if any one expected to see lanterns moving to and fro like animated fireflies, they made a sad mistake. it remained as dark as the inside of a pocket over there. "oh! come, what sort of talk were you giving us, davy?" remarked step-hen, in disgust. "i was mighty comfortable lying on my blanket, and you just thought you'd see how you could stir us up with some fake news." "i tell you i _did_ see it!" affirmed davy, stoutly. "say, i know what he glimpsed," remarked bumpus. "what was it, then?" asked step-hen. "that star hanging low over yonder," the fat boy went on, eagerly; "if a feller saw it all of a sudden, he might think it moved. and it does look like a lantern, now, it sure does." "think everybody is a booby like,--well, some people, do you, bumpus?" demanded davy, indignantly. "what i saw waved back and forward, just like i might do, if i wanted to make a signal to somebody over here on the mainland. thad, you believe me, don't you?" before the scout leader could answer, another took up the argument. "boys," said smithy, "what davy jones says is perfectly correct, because i myself saw some sort of moving light. i just happened to turn my head, for perhaps davy said something right then, and it was out there over the dark water." "there, what d'ye think of that, smarty?" demanded davy, turning on step-hen and bumpus, who were on the same side for once, and about the only time the others could remember: "it goes," said thad, positively. "what davy told us has now been proven by a second reliable witness. then there must have been some sort of light moving over there on the island. if a light, then a human being, either boy or man. and that makes me all the more anxious to look that same island over again. i didn't get to cover all the ground when we were there last." "but there wasn't any cabin or hut there?" bob white declared. "i don't believe there could be one, and none of us sight it. still, it's a rocky island, you remember, and there might be some sort of cave on it, good enough to be used to keep a man from the rain, or housing goods, if need be." "whew! listen to thad, would you?" said step-hen, drawing a big breath, which betrayed his state of mind, and the excitement that was beginning to make his pulses thrill. "whatever do you suppose these unknown men can be doing around here?" "you remember what i said before about this country having been stocked with game, and this lake with thousands of young bass years back?" thad continued. "it is possible that some of the late gamekeepers have a neat little plan to make a pile of money out of their knowledge. and as the law would punish them if they were caught, perhaps they're hiding while we're in camp so close by." "that sounds good enough for me," remarked giraffe, taking advantage of thad's attention being diverted to softly toss another pine knot upon the fire. "perhaps it's worse than that," step-hen remarked, in a half-awed voice. "i've been reading a lot lately about some convicts that broke out of a penitentiary up in the next county. mebbe now some of 'em have located here, and are living off the game they snare in the woods, or the fish they hook." "that might be, of course, though i doubt it," thad went on to remark. "in the first place, if they were convicts they would be wearing heavy brogans, such as are always used in prisons. one of these men had on a neat pair of pointed shoes, for i saw the marks clearly. the other's shoes were pieced. i pointed that out to bob white, didn't i, bob?" "it is just like you say, suh," replied the other, readily; "and you showed me how i could tell that shoe again any time, and under any conditions; foh it had a home-made patch on the sole, running crisscross from side to side," and he made the figure with his finger in the earth beside him. davy jones had left the fire again, to go back to the lake shore, and so did not happen to hear this explanation. he seemed to be hoping another glimpse of the moving lantern would be granted to him. there was something so weird and fascinating about the mystery that davy wished it to keep up. "how about our moving the camp over on the island to-morrow; have you changed your mind about that, mr. scout-master?" asked allan. "yes, i was just hanging in the balance, when this new thing happened, and settled it for me," replied thad. "then we don't go?" asked step-hen, guessing the way things were moving from the expression he saw on the other's face. "it would hardly pay us," answered thad. "in the first place we're nicely fixed where we are. then again, if that island should be a harboring place for hoboes or some other rough men, we'd soon get into trouble with them. i don't think many of us would enjoy sound sleep if we camped over there. it would mean sentry duty every night, just like we were soldiers." the boys had voted in one way to go over, and no one would have liked to show the white feather. but this decision on the part of their scout-master let them "down easy," as step-hen afterwards confessed. and they all seemed to look pleased over the decision, even davy, who came in just in time to hear the last words thad spoke, having seen no further sign of a lantern. but perhaps there was one who remained silent, and looked glum when it was thus decided to remain in the old camp. giraffe dropped his head, so that his comrades might not see how disappointed he felt over the change of plans. for he had hoped that the bear would be set at liberty when the last scout took passage for the new island camp; and that the beast would start off hunting food in the woods after the fashion of bears in general. now they faced a panic in the food department, giraffe feared; for he seemed to be certain that some night that beast would break loose from his chain, and devour everything they had in the line of provisions. "who goes over with you to-morrow, thad?" asked davy, hoping that he might be the favored one; for davy loved adventure, and could never get too much of the same, he believed. "well, i hope he don't choose you, for one, davy," said step-hen, jealously. "why not?" demanded davy, showing resentment at once. "because you might have one of your fits in the boat, and upset the whole outfit," step-hen went on, with a grin; "you know, when we wanted you to help clean up around the camp yesterday, you said you were afraid of exerting yourself too much, because you felt the signs that always came along before you got one of them terrible cramps." davy looked a little confused. deep down in his own heart he knew that he had been playing a little game of "shirk" about that time, and taking what was a mean advantage of the good nature of his fellow scouts. and now it was coming back to make him pay the penalty. so he said not another word. "i haven't decided yet who i want to take," remarked thad, looking around at the circle of eager faces upon which the light of the glowing camp-fire shone; "and perhaps the fairest way will be to draw lots, then the lucky one will not be of my picking; and there can be no bad feeling." bumpus had been sitting there for some time now, taking things easy. he certainly enjoyed remaining quiet as well as any one in the patrol, which, considering his weight, was not to be wondered at. some thought must have struck him just about that time, for he was observed to struggle to his knees with many a grunt, and then gaining his feet vanish within the nearest tent. nobody was paying any particular attention to the fat youth, however, unless it might have been step-hen, who turned his head to see what was going on; and even he joined in the laugh when davy jones performed one of his comical antics, jumping up, and hanging from the lower limb of a tree by his toes, so that he swung to and fro like a big pendulum. "better be careful, suh, how you play that trick, if ever you go down with me into the blue ridge country," laughed bob white. "why, would they arrest me for cruelty to animals?" demanded davy, as he made a flying leap, turned completely over in the air, and landed ever so lightly on his feet, as neatly as a circus gymnast might have done. "no, but if some of the darkies were passing through the woods, suh, and saw you hanging like that, they'd positively think it was the biggest 'possum that ever was grown in north car'lina. and you'd hear an ax at the butt of that tree in a jiffy, believe me." just then bumpus came staggering out of the tent, having tripped as usual on a guy rope in his hurry. he scrambled to his feet, and although nearly out of breath, managed to grasp: "well, there's thieves broke loose in this same camp, fellows, or else the place is just bewitched, that's what!" "you'll have to explain what you mean, bumpus?" declared thad; while step-hen half started from his seat on a blanket, his face becoming scarlet as if he expected that every eye would immediately be turned in his direction. "i tell you i hung it right on the pole in the middle of the tent, and now it's clean gone. yes, i even hunted around on the ground, and everywhere, but nary a sign did i see. things have come to a pretty pass, i think, when a fellow just ain't allowed to leave his haversack around without somebody running off with the same. like to know what the rules'd say to that sort of thing. thad, is this going to keep up right along? it's downright robbery, that's my opinion; and i don't care who knows it. oh! my goodness gracious! there they come now, walkin' right in on us!" from the way bumpus spoke, one would think he meant the thieves were descending on the camp to complete its looting; and as the boys scrambled to their feet, no wonder they were thrilled to see two shadowy figures of men advancing from the direction of the dense forest! chapter xix. a good riddance. bumpus somehow seemed to keep his senses about him. frightened as he was, he never forgot that, as the chosen bugler of cranford troop, he had certain duties devolving upon him which should not be neglected. so he made a frantic dive for his precious bugle, hanging close by. seizing the instrument, he clapped it to his lips, and blew a clarion call. it was the rallying signal of the scouts, and which they knew full well. the bear immediately set up a whimpering, and then merged this into a roar that echoed from the side of the hill far away. thad wondered whether this action on his part was intended to be disgust with the music produced by the silver-voiced troop bugle; or if the coming of the two men had anything to do with it. immediately he saw that the latter was the case, for one of the men left the side of his companion, and striding swiftly toward the dancing bear, began to fondle the beast, while speaking words in some outlandish tongue. that told the story. the newcomers then, were the two men whom smithy had seen exhibiting the trained beast near his house, and one of whom he had declared asked him ever so many questions in good english about the country above, and the people living on the farms there. but the scouts had had their little scare all right. under the belief that the camp was in danger of being raided by a couple of thieving tramps, who had already picked out the bag of bumpus as the choicest prize of the lot, davy and some of his mates had gained their feet only to jump for the spot where their stout staves happened to be resting against various trees. they really presented quite a warlike front as they began to wave these sticks in a menacing manner, and ranged on either side of their scout-master. "hold on, boys, there's no need of making such a show as that," thad remarked, secretly pleased, however, to see how bold a band he had under him; "these men are the ones who own the bear; and i rather think they've come for him at last." "hurrah!" shouted giraffe, ready to dance with happiness over the sudden prospect of being rid of their "star boarder," while the stock of food still remained fairly bountiful. thad was observing the man who kept on toward them. he was coarsely dressed, and to all appearances as much of a foreigner as the one who was caressing the whining dancing bear, and speaking such strange words to him. at the same time thad, who was quite an observer, felt that there was a vast difference between the two men. this one had clear features, sunburned and begrimed it is true, but with intelligence in his manner; while his gray eyes were keen and penetrating. just now, as he surveyed the hostile attitude of some of the scouts, thad could detect a grim smile passing over the face of the other. he nodded his head to the boy whom he guessed must be the leader of the campers. "we lost the bear by accident, and my companion has been mourning ever since. you see he brought the beast over the ocean, and cares a heap for him," he said, as he pointed to where the bear and keeper were actually hugging each other, so it seemed. "he walked in on us the other night, just when we were ready to go to our blankets," thad went on to explain, "and nearly scared some of the boys out of their wits. but we happened to have a scout who had fed your bear, and talked to him. he was brave enough to get down from his tree, and offer the animal part of a loaf of bread." "half a loaf it was too, mister!" broke in giraffe, determined that the other should not be left in any doubt as to the immense hole the beast had made in their provision chest. "and while the bear was eating, smithy managed to get the chain fast around that tree," thad continued. "we hoped you'd come for him, sooner or later, because we hadn't laid in stores for a bear when we started out on this hike. and giraffe here is anxious to see the last of him, because he's afraid his rations will have to be cut pretty soon if it keeps on much longer." "thank you, boys, for keeping the bear," the man remarked, in excellent english, as he smiled, and bowed around the half circle. "if you say so, we will gladly settle his board bill right now, as we have to be off, too much time having been lost in this hunt. but he refused to do anything without his bear, and i had to give in." "that's kind of you; but i guess we don't want to ask any pay for the little he ate of our food," thad hastened to say. "little, oh, my!" giraffe burst out with; and then subsided at a frown from the scout-master. "and besides," went on thad, "he happened to do us a service by frightening away a lot of boys from town who meant to play some trick on us, perhaps stealing all our eatables; so you see we feel square. but perhaps you'd like to have a cup of coffee while you're here? we have plenty, and can fix you up in short order." giraffe could only groan. to his mind it seemed that they must be keeping open house for all the roving creatures at large in that section of the country. and besides, who could say what manner of men these two with the trained bear might turn out to be? for his part, the one who talked so well, looked very suspicious, to say the least; and why should an educated man be tramping all over the country in company with an ignorant foreigner and his dancing bear, if he did not have some sly game back of it? "that is very kind of you, boy," remarked the man, with a smile that made thad forget his soiled face and rather ragged clothes; "and as the night is cool, and we've still got a long tramp before us if we expect to make half the distance to faversham before morning, i'm going to take you at your word. but i wish you'd let me pay you something for all this trouble." thad of course shook his head, and gave orders for coffee to be put in the pot, which might be set close enough to the hot camp-fire to soon start boiling. the man sat down and began to talk to davy jones, who happened to be next him. he seemed to be asking a few questions, possibly concerning the road to the town toward which they were bound, and which was really a good many miles away. thad walked over to where the other was still chattering to his recovered pet. he found, however, that the man could not speak enough english to answer any question. if the other man was able to communicate with this fellow at all then he must be educated enough to speak russian; for that was what the foreigner's native country seemed to be, as far as thad could make out. when the coffee was ready, the man by the fire accepted of a cup, and thanked step-hen warmly. davy carried another cup to the bear keeper, who took it with some strange words, which the boy supposed were meant to express his gratitude. and after that, to the immense delight of giraffe, they prepared to depart. the bear was made to shake hands with each scout, and in his odd fashion express his thanks for the attention that had been given him. but giraffe declined the honor. "it's all right for you fellows," he grumbled, when they joked him on his timidity; "he likes you, and wouldn't do anything to hurt you; but it's different with me, you see. the old rascal's taken a dislike to me, and i'd be afraid he'd give me a sneaky bite, or claw me. just say good-bye for me, and a good riddance." thad was afraid the man who could talk such good english might show some signs of being offended by these frank expressions of giraffe's views; but instead he laughed quite heartily, as though rather tickled. "a bear can eat a big amount of stuff in a day," he remarked, "and i don't blame your friend for being afraid he'd clean you out, if he stayed longer. good-bye, boys. hope you enjoy your outing to the limit; and that the time may come when i can return that favor of a bully cup of coffee." with that they were off, the bear growling one minute, as it struggled with its chain, and looked back; and then whimpering in its joy at seeing a familiar face again. "see, he knows he'll miss the good feeds he's had since he dropped in on us," remarked davy. "you're away off there, davy," declared giraffe, drawing a big sigh; "he's ugly just because he can't get a bite at me. he's been waiting all the time to do that, and he shows how mad he is to be taken away without a chance. perhaps i'll sleep easier to-night, boys. it's an awful thing to lie awake there in a tent, and know a revengeful bear is trying to break his chain only twenty feet away, meaning to take a nip at you." but the others only laughed at giraffe, as the shadowy figures of men and bear were swallowed up in the dense darkness of the forest. still, every one was glad the bear had gone. they might have laughed at some of his antics; but his little eyes looked treacherous; and thad had given orders that nobody should be too familiar with the beast while he honored them with his company. "that one man was sure a foreign chap," remarked allan; "but the other talked as good english as any of us, perhaps better than some. i saw him speaking with you, davy; did he tell you who he was, and all about his roving life?" "well, i guess not," replied the other, "to tell the truth, he was asking questions about getting to faversham, and finding a couple of parties he seems to want to come up with mighty bad. but i couldn't give him much help, because you see, i've never been as far as that town; and i sure never met up with the men he described. but i promised him i'd keep my eyes open, and if so be i ran across 'em, i'd send him word, in care of a man up in faversham named malcolm hotchkiss." "well," broke in bumpus just then, after his usual impetuous style, "for my part, i'm believin' that they're the very two rascals thad spoke about, hanging out in this region, and taking game out of season. and perhaps now, one of 'em even sneaked in camp when nobody was around, and got away with my bag." he said this in a sneering way, and kept his eye fixed reproachfully on step-hen while speaking. the other frowned, and shook his head, in a combative way. "of course you mean it's me that touched your old bag, bumpus," he remarked; "but you've got another guess coming. i watched you hunting in the tent like you'd lost your head. reckon you have, all right, because _you took the wrong tent_! just step in the other one for a change, and my word for it you'll find your blessed old haversack just where you hung it!" and bumpus, looking rather shame-faced, did go into the second tent; to appear a moment later carrying the disputed bag in his hand, and with a rosy blush mantling his fat face. chapter xx. drawing straws for a chance. at any rate bumpus was manly enough to do the right thing. he walked straight up to step-hen, and held out his hand. "i was a fool, and that's all there is about it, step-hen," he said, frankly. "will you shake hands with me, and excuse the blunder i made when i felt sure you had hooked the old bag, just to bother me?" "sure i will, bumpus," said the other, gripping the fat hand extended so confidingly toward him, and giving it a squeeze that brought tears to the eyes of poor bumpus. "and after all, i don't hardly blame you for thinking i had a hand in gettin' away with the bag; because, you know, i've wanted to look through it this long time. don't you think you might let me have it now, bumpus?" "but i tell you i haven't got anything that belongs to you, step-hen, and you ought to believe me," protested the fat boy, firmly. step-hen looked at him queerly, as though he might be still a little undecided. then with a sigh he turned away; and bumpus knew that he had not been convinced. "here, you c'n tumble out everything i've got in the haversack, if you want to, step-hen," added the other, giving in finally. "never mind, i take your word it ain't there," said the other, over his shoulder; but somehow bumpus knew that the feeling of suspicion was only "scotched," not killed; and that step-hen fancied that he, bumpus, had only changed the hiding-place of the lost compass. thad had considerable to think about as he sat there, looking into the fire, and listening to the talk that was going the rounds. his mind was fixed upon the mystery that seemed to be hovering over the island; and in various ways he found himself trying to connect the coming of the two men and the bear, with the presence of those tracks across on the wooded territory beyond the water. he even got up, and went across to the other side of the fire, to stoop down and examine the plain footprints left by their late guest. then he shook his head as though the result failed to tell him what he sought. to make absolutely sure, he took a pine knot that had been thrust into the fire; and using this as a torch, made his way to the tree where the bear had been chained ever since coming among them. it was no great task to discover the imprint made by the heavy shoes worn by the russian. they were marked all around by hobnails such as are used by the lower classes across the water, in order to save the leather soles, for leather costs more money than a few nails. apparently thad found little satisfaction in his labors, for he was frowning when he returned to the circle. "not the same parties, eh, thad?" asked davy, who had kept a wondering eye on the movements of the young scout-master, and could give a shrewd guess as to the reason for his action, as well as the disappointing result. "i'm dead sure of that," replied thad. "different shoes make different trails, eh?" went on davy. "oh!" thad replied quietly, but conclusively; "that spluttering foreigner has hobnails in his soles; and i saw none like that over on the island. and this other man wears a shoe with a square toe; but pretty good material in it. there was no print like that either." "well, then, that proves them innocent, don't it?" asked smithy. "for my part now, fellows, i rather took to that man who sat here, and drank his coffee. he's no hobo, i give you my word. his hands may look soiled, but under it all they're decent enough to belong to a gentleman." "hey! listen to smithy, would you?" exclaimed step-hen, as if surprised. "now, i never knew he had such a way of figgering out things. if he keeps on like that, he'll leave us all in the lurch, fellers." "to tell the truth," admitted the other, smilingly; "time was when i wouldn't have thought of noticing a single thing about such a man; but you see, i've been studying up the rules and suggestions our scout-master loaned me, and it keeps on telling greenhorns and tenderfeet to always be on the lookout, so as to remember what they see. and when he sat there, i just thought it would be a fine chance to make a mental note of anything queer about him i could detect." "good for you, number five," said thad, warmly. "i said you were going to make your mark yet, once you got into the fever of things; and already you're proving a credit to the silver fox patrol." "then you saw the same things, did you, thad?" asked smithy, eagerly, and with a really happy look on his delicate face; because this practice of "doing things" was a new experience for him, and success made him feel proud indeed. "partly so; though you went me one better when you made out that his hands were white under the grime," answered the scout-master. "that sounds like you think he took on all that dirt on purpose?" remarked bumpus. "perhaps he did," replied thad; "perhaps the man is playing some sort of part, for a reason of his own." "bunking with an ignorant foreigner just to get a chance to sneak into camps, and run off with the haversacks that have been carelessly left lying around loose?" suggested step-hen, still harping on his wrongs. "well, i don't agree with you there, step-hen," remarked allan. "like smithy here, i found something about that man that interested me. if asked me point-blank now, possibly i couldn't tell you what it was that attracted me--his eyes, his smile, or his whole manner. but i'd be badly mistaken if he would turn out to be a rascal." "and i say the same," observed thad, vigorously. "oh! well, you fellows may be right," remarked giraffe; "but to my mind there's something mighty suspicious about the way they came snooping around here. reckon that party might know more about how certain kinds of wild game find their way to the new york hotels in the close season, than he'd like to own up to. and i tell you right now what i mean to do." "go on, we all want to know," urged thad. "while i'm up here," giraffe continued, loftily, "i expect to keep my eyes open to find evidences of traps and snares set in the woods to catch partridges, rabbits and the like. and some time, if anybody wants to paddle for me, i'm agoin' to go all the way around this here lake, lookin' for nets, set to haul in the game bass." "you ought to be wearing the badge of a game warden, giraffe," declared davy, with a mock bow in the direction of the speaker; "but they'd have to watch you right smart now, because some of that game would go to keep you from starving." they continued to talk until a late hour, and every boy was given a chance to air his opinion. still, no wonderfully new ideas seemed to be in evidence; and when the patrol sought the blankets, leaving the camp-fire dying down, they were about evenly divided on the question as to whether the educated tramp keeping company with the foreign owner of the bear was a smart man, or just a scamp. but a night of peace followed all these thrills. the skies above showed no sign of storm; and from the neighboring forest there issued no more bears, or any other savage beast, to raid the camp, and produce another mad scamper of the scouts to places of refuge among the branches of the friendly trees. once or twice allan came out to take a look around. it seems to be the habit of all old campers to do this, whenever they happen to awaken; not that he suspected that there would be any peril hovering around; but then possibly the fire might have worked its way through a line of dead grass, and threaten to extend; or it perhaps needed another small log to keep the blaze going, and ward off the chill of night. over the water came a weird cry at the time allan last performed this vigil; and the maine boy smiled as he listened for a repetition; because it was a familiar sound in his ears, and reminded him of his former home further north. "was that a loon, allan," asked a quiet voice near him; and turning, the maine boy saw the acting scout-master poking his head out from under the canvas of the second tent. "just what it was, thad," replied the other, when the last speaker crawled out to join him; "i think he must have just dropped down here, for i heard a splash before he gave tongue; and we know there wasn't any such bird around up to sunset. if any of the others wake up and hear that cry, they'll think it's the ghost of the island, sure." as it was too cool to sit around with such a scanty amount of clothes on, both scouts soon vanished again. the fish were jumping as on the previous night; and in the eastern sky the battered old moon had thrust her remnant of a circle above the horizon for a little peep at the world below. morning came along in due time, and of course the usual swim was first in order. giraffe was apparently in high spirits. the others saw him taking stock of what stores they had left, and evidently the big eater found that there would be an abundance to see them through. that sort of thing always pleased giraffe. he was gloomy only when he feared for the worst; and in his mind that consisted of short rations. after breakfast the question came up as to which one of the other scouts thad was to take with him. as he had stated he would do, in order to be quite fair, and keep the others from feeling that any favoritism had been shown, thad took a number of short blades of grass, each of a different length. these he mixed up in his hand, so that no one could know which was the long, and which the short ones. then he invited the boys with the exception of the second in command, allan, to draw as they pleased, the shortest straw to win out. of course there was more or less joking as the operation was carried out; for boys can hardly do so simple a thing as draw lots without a certain amount of fun being injected into the game. "now, the last belongs to smithy, because he didn't draw," said thad. "hold up the one you got, bumpus, and see if you go along with me." bumpus actually shook a little when he compared his "straw" and finding that it was longer than the other, he laughed with glee. that island did not have much drawing power for bumpus; in fact, he hoped never to set foot on it again. each one tried to show that he had a shorter straw than the one that fell to smithy, but without success. "it's smithy who goes," observed thad; and possibly he looked pleased; for he was beginning to take a great interest in the boy who had been wrongly raised by his mother and maiden aunts, to be what is known as a "sissy;" and hoped to see him turn out to be a manly, self-reliant and brave scout. chapter xxi. step-hen's strategy fails. "don't throw your straws away yet, fellows;" remarked allan, after the drawing had come to a conclusion; "thad has something more to say." "yes," remarked the patrol leader, smiling; "after talking it over with allan, who will be left in charge here during our absence, i've concluded to take a second scout along. three will be better than two, in case of any trouble." "trouble! oh! my stars!" it was bumpus who said this; and he actually turned pale as he glanced down at the short stick he held in his hand. what if after all he should turn out to be the ill-fated one chosen to cross again to the island? he thought it would be just his luck. "now, it's only right that the one who has the next shortest stick should be the second fellow in the boat with me," thad went on; "so let's compare lengths again, boys." some came up anxiously, actually hoping they might be the lucky one; while others were indifferent; because there had been an interesting programme laid out for that morning's work, and they should hate to miss the "wigwagging" with signal flags; as well as more of allan's trail talks, which were so great. "davy jones, you go!" remarked thad, after the various "straws" had been compared, and his was found to be the shortest. davy gave a pleased grunt and his face glowed with delight. if there was one fellow in the patrol whose soul seemed to crave excitement, and the element of danger, it was the jones' boy. when everything else failed he was in the habit of climbing a tree, and ascending to a dizzy height, perform some of his astonishing gymnastics there. no wonder they called him "monkey" at times. "me for another chance to hook a three pound bass, if i can get a few minnows with that little seine made of mosquito net," announced giraffe, after they had cleaned up the breakfast dishes, and the camp looked spic and span as a camp always should look when boys are being taught how to live in the woods. "of course you are; though we've got plenty to eat besides fish," remarked step-hen; "but they sure did taste mighty fine, giraffe; and i'll take a turn with you along the shore. we can get on without the boat, i reckon." "count me in that job, if allan will let me go along," bumpus declared, showing considerable interest. "if you do come, the chances are three to one you'll trip on some vine, or stone, and take a header into the lake," remarked giraffe. "well, what if i did, i know how to swim, don't i?" burst out bumpus, who seemed to be carrying "a chip on his shoulder," these days, as some of the boys declared. "course you do, bumpus," said step-hen, coming to the defense of the fat boy in rather a strange manner, bumpus thought; "i wouldn't be surprised if you could give giraffe a race, and beat him out. he never will be a first-class scout when it comes to the water tricks; though if you hung up a whole ham as a price it might make him stir himself some." of course giraffe was indignant. "why, i could beat bumpus with one hand tied behind me!" he declared. "oh! you don't say so?" mocked step-hen, who for some reason seemed desirous of arousing the feeling of rivalry between these two scouts, and egged them on as a boy who loved to see dogs fight, would sick one on the other. "mebbe, you'd be willing to back up that assertion right now, and prove your boast?" "i'm willing, if he says he wants to try it out!" snapped the aroused giraffe, who at any rate was not lacking in spunk. bumpus, too, seemed to be fully aroused. the other boys crowded around, with wide grins, because they fancied it would be rather a comical sight to see a race between the fat boy, who had only recently learned to swim, and made a tremendous splashing in the water; and giraffe, who was a clumsy water dog at best, with one arm tied down to his side. just then bumpus happened to look at step-hen. he could not help noticing how unduly the other seemed tickled at the prospect. and then and there a sudden terrible suspicion gripped hold of bumpus. now, there could be no particular reason why step-hen should want to see him enter for this queer water race, unless he had some deep motive behind it. what could that motive be? did the artful scout expect to find a chance for searching his, bumpus' clothes, while he was in the lake, engaged in an exciting competition with giraffe; and all the other fellows having their attention centered on the race? "oh! he believes he can find out something that way; and he's just pushing me in over my head so i'll leave my clothes on the bank, and he c'n search 'em!" was what bumpus was now saying to himself. indignation filled his honest soul. thank goodness he was too smart to fall into such a silly little trap. step-hen would have had all his trouble for his pains. so bumpus, looking the other straight in the eyes, went on to say: "come to think of it, we'll have to call the race off for to-day. i promised my folks that i wouldn't go in swimming more'n once each day. to-morrow morning then, giraffe, i'll promise to go you just as we said, you to have one arm working. and i warn you right now you'll have to do your best, unless you want to be left in the lurch, because i'm learning fast." step-hen certainly looked very much disappointed. there was a sneer, as well as a shadow on his face, as he remarked scornfully: "huh! you take water, eh, bumpus?" "only once a day," replied the fat boy, calmly; and yet the look he gave step-hen told the other that his clever scheme had been understood. of course the action of bumpus in calling the race off convinced step-hen more than ever that the fat boy did have his precious compass. if it was not in that old haversack then, he had, as step-hen suspected, transferred the same to one of his pockets; and was even then carrying it around, in defiance of the owner. now step-hen could have ended all this disturbance by appealing straight to the scout-master, who would have asked bumpus to tell on his honor if he had what did not belong to him. but it did not suit the boy to do this. he was naturally rather obstinate, and had a bulldog nature. "i started out to recapture that compass on my own account, and i ain't going to play the baby act now, and ask thad to get it for me, no siree. just you wait, bumpus hawtree, and see if i don't find some way to fool you. it's in one of those pockets of yours that stick out so; and sooner or later i'll prove it before the rest of the troop." step-hen was saying this to himself as he watched the three, who were to go to the mysterious island, finishing their preparations for the journey across the lake. but apparently the fat boy had already forgotten all about the trouble. he had a disposition that could not harbor resentment any great length of time. like a little summer storm it quickly blew over; and bumpus was then the same smiling, genial comrade, ready to do anything to oblige his late antagonist. thad did not have many preparations to make, however. most of his time was spent in talking with allan, and arranging for the work that was to be done that morning, in showing the balance of the patrol numerous interesting things connected with scout life. "i reckon we'll be back in time for lunch," he remarked, when davy called out to say the boat was ready; "but to make sure we won't go hungry each of us is carrying what bob calls a 'snack,' along with us--some ham between crackers." "well," said allan, who secretly wished he might be going along too; "here's hoping you learn something about the queer men who have been using that island for some purpose or other." "i hope so, too," replied thad; "because, somehow, they've aroused a sort of curiosity in me. they seem to hide from us, as if they didn't want anybody to see what kind of fellows they were. why, all the time we've been here they must have known about us, and could even see our flag flying from the pole in front of the tents; yet they've never as much as said 'good morning' to us." "never a peep," allan went on to say. "and that makes me think there's sure something crooked about 'em. i wish----" "now i know what you're going to say," broke in thad, with a smile; "you feel bad because i didn't fetch my double-barrel gun along on this trip. well, between you and me, i do, myself. it would have been a whole lot of comfort right now. but you know, boy scouts don't want to look too much like soldiers. some of the town people talked a heap about not wanting their sons to join a military company; and we had trouble convincing them that the scouts didn't have a thing to do with army life. that's why we've only been able to organize one patrol up to now. but the feel of that little twelve bore would be good this morning, even if game laws stood between me and getting a few partridges." "please hurry up your stumps, thad!" called davy, who was wild with eagerness to get moving; for he had envied those who were allowed to go to the island on the preceding day, and felt anxious to set foot on the enchanted ground, where mysterious strangers seemed to have their abode, yet could not be found. "that's all i wanted to say, allan," the scout-master concluded; "and as davy will have one of his fits soon, if i don't get off, i reckon i'll start. if we fail to show up at noon, why, don't worry. nothing is going to hurt any of us, that i can see." the rest of the scouts gathered at the water's edge to see them embark on the exploring expedition; and all sorts of chaffing was indulged in between davy and some of his camp mates. bumpus in particular was so pleased over not having been drafted to go in the cranky canoe that he seemed to be just bubbling over with exuberant spirits. when the boat had gone some fifty yards from the shore he drew out his bugle, kept hidden up to then, and sent the most mournful notes across the water after the departing voyagers. it was so like a funeral dirge that davy jones thrust his fingers in his ears; and then shook a fist at the stout bugler; who however kept on with his sad refrain until allan put a stop to it. and so the scout-master backed, by his two valiant assistants, set out to learn what the secret of the mysterious island might be; nor did any of the trio suspect right then in the beginning of the voyage what strange results would follow this invasion of the haunt of the unknown prowlers. chapter xxii. the patched shoe again. those on the shore, after the bugle's sad refrain had been silenced, gave the departing adventurers a last cheer, and a wave of their campaign hats. over the water sounds carry unusually clear; and thad and his mates smiled when they distinctly heard step-hen bawling from the interior of the tent where he had his sleeping quarters: "hey, you fellers, which one of you hid my coat? none of your tricks now; don't i know that i hung it up all right last night, when i came to bed; and blessed if i can find it now? funny how it's always _my_ things that go wandering around loose. own up now; and whoever hid it just come right in here, and show me where it is!" "the same careless step-hen," remarked thad; "always leaving his things around loose, and then ready to accuse some one else of hiding them. to hear him talk you'd believe in the bad fairies, and that they just took their spite out mixing his clothes and things up, while he slept. i wonder if he can ever be cured of that trick. he'll never pass for a merit badge till he does, that's sure. neatness in a scout is one of the first things to be won." davy was handling the paddle. while he did not show the proficiency that the maine boy, allan hollister, could boast, or bob white, who loved everything pertaining to the water, still davy did manage to keep the prow of the canoe in a fairly straight line for the island, as he dipped first on one side and then on the other. thinking the chance to show davy a few points in the art of paddling ought not be lost, the scout master took the spruce blade, which was a home-made one, from his hands. by turning the canoe around, and using the stern as the bow, he was able to illustrate his meaning easily enough. "now, it is not necessary to change from one side to the other as often as you do, davy, when you have a breeze blowing like it is now, and you're heading across it. by holding the blade in the water this way after a stroke, it serves in place of a rudder and checks the turning of the canoe under the influence of the push. and another thing, you reach too far out. that helps to whirl the boat around in a part circle. dip deeply, but as close to the side of the canoe as you can." davy was a ready observer, and not above picking up points from one who knew more than he did. and presently, profiting from these plain hints, he was able to make easier progress. "why," continued thad, "allan tells me that among the expert canoemen up in his state of maine lots of them wouldn't be guilty of lifting the paddle out of the water at all, and make swift work of it too. you see, in creeping up on a deer that is feeding on the lily pads in the shallow water near the shore, just around a point perhaps, the water dripping from the paddle when it was raised; or even the gurgle as it came out, would give warning of danger; and about the only thing they'd know about that deer would be its whistle as it leaped into the brush. so they always practice silence in paddling, till it gets to be second nature, allan tells me." "say, i certainly do hope we get a chance to see that same thing for ourselves," remarked davy; "i've heard and read a heap about maine, and always wanted to get there. since allan's been talking about his life in the pine woods that feeling's just grown till i dream of it nights, and imagine myself up there." "and i'd like to go along too, if my mother could be persuaded to let me," was what smithy said, a little doubtfully; for he had been so long "tied to his mother's apron-strings," as the other boys called it, that he could not believe she might overcome her fears for his safety enough to let him go far away. nevertheless, smithy had now had one full breath of what it meant to be a boy with red blood in his veins; and he was inwardly determined that never again could he be kept in bonds, while the smiling open air beckoned, and these splendid chums wanted his company. all this while good progress had been made, and they were now drawing close in to the island. it lay there, looking calm and peaceful in the morning sunlight. a few birds flew up from along the shore, some of them "teeter" snipe that had been feeding. davy even pointed with his paddle to a big gray squirrel that ran along a log in plain view, and sat up on his haunches as if to curiously observe these approaching human beings who intended to invade his haunts. "what's that bird out yonder on the water?" asked smithy, just then pointing beyond a spur of the island. "that's a loon," remarked thad. "allan heard him drop in here last night; and both of us happened to be awake when he gave one of his cries. you'll be apt to hear him some time or other; and if you think it's a crazy man laughing, why just remember they named that bird rightly when they called him a loon." "i don't see anything moving on shore; anyhow there's no man in sight," davy remarked a minute later, as they drew in still closer. "oh! i didn't expect to see a crowd waiting to receive us," laughed thad. "we may have all our trouble for our pains; but i just couldn't rest till i got one more squint at that imprint of a shoe on the island." "oh! yes, i remember that bob white was telling me about you being taken up with that track," davy went on; "but he didn't say just why. perhaps you'll show me, now that i'm along on the trip?" "sure i will; and tell you a few things i got from him," the scout-master went on to say, as they pushed in toward the little beach where the landing had been made on the first occasion of their visiting the lake island. "bob must have been through some stuff in his old home," remarked davy, enviously; "from the few little things he's said. things _happen_ there in the blue ridge mountains, down in the old tar heel state. up here it's as dead as a door nail; nothin' goin' on atall to make a feller keep awake. don't i just hope you get that deal through, thad, and take the whole patrol along, to pay a visit to bob's home country. i just know we'd have a scrumptuous time of it. imagine me up in the real mountains, when i've never even seen a hill bigger than scrub-oak mountain, which i could nearly throw a stone over!" then the prow of the canoe ran aground in a few inches of water. thad sprang ashore, and holding the painter, drew the boat in closer. relieved of his weight in the bow its keel grated on the dry sand, and the other two were able to step out easily enough. they drew the boat up good and far on the beach. "the wind's liable to get even stronger than it is," remarked thad, "and we don't want a second experience of having the canoe blown out on the lake." "i should say not," observed smithy, uneasily; for he had only recently learned how to swim, and the shore seemed a tremendous distance away, with the flag of the camp floating in the morning breeze, and the tents showing plainly against the green background. "now, this time i'm going to comb the whole island over, and see what's here," announced thad, resolutely. "you see, we can make a start, and keep close to this shore until we strike the other end. then changing our base, we'll come back this way, keeping just so far away from our first trail. after that, it's back again; and in that way we ought to see all there is." "going to be pretty tough climbing, i reckon?" remarked davy, surveying the piled-up rocks, of which the island seemed to consist mainly, with the trees growing from crevices, and in every odd place, so that they formed a dense canopy indeed. "that'll make it more interesting, perhaps," said smithy; and thad nodded his head encouragingly; for he liked to see evidences in the spoiled boy tending to show what his real nature must be, back of the polish his fond mother and maiden aunts had succeeded in putting upon his actions in the past. they reached the other end of the island and began to make the return trip. as davy jones had said, it was strenuous work at times, since the rocks were piled up in a way to suggest that some convulsion of nature had heaved this island up from the bottom of the lake. "just see the black holes, would you?" davy declared, again and again. "why, lots of 'em'd make the finest kind of fox dens; and i reckon a wolf wouldn't want a better hiding-place than that big one over there. say, thad, i c'd crawl in easy, myself, and i'd like to do it for a cooky now, if you said the word." "not just yet, davy," remarked the scout leader; who began to wonder himself if the men of the island might not be hiding right then in one of the cavities davy pointed out. "we want to see what the place is like, you know. come along, and in a jiffy we'll be at the end where our boat lies." "but what are you keeping on looking so close at the ground, whenever we strike any soil at all, thad?" the jones boy continued. "s'pose now, you think you might run on that footprint bob was speakin' about, say?" "just what was in my mind, davy," replied the other, always willing to give information to those with him. "i wanted you to see what it looked like, so you and smithy here could be keeping on the watch. if we found that it made a regular trail, and led to one of these same black holes, we'd know more than we do right now. there, i saw a track, but it wasn't a clear one. hold on, and let's see what this patch of open ground will show up." "this just suits me to a dot," remarked davy. "feels quivery-like, you know, just like something queer was agoin' to happen right soon. wonder if there's any wildcats loose over here. i'd like to get a whack at one with this club; wouldn't i belt him a good crack between the eyes. hello! found what you wanted, thad?" the scout-master had come to a sudden stop, and was down on his knees, examining something on the ground. he beckoned the others to drop beside him, and both boys did so eagerly. as davy jones saw the imprint of the shoe that had a patch on it, he gave a low exclamation, and his eyes sought those of thad. "well, what d'ye think of that, now, thad?" he muttered; "the same patched shoe that feller with the bear man was tellin' me about. say, listen, he said that he was lookin' for a man with a shoe just like that! yes, siree, he described it to a hair, and asked me if ever i saw a footprint like that to send word to malcolm hotchkiss up at faversham!" thad felt a thrill at these words, for he realized that they meant there must be some connection between the supposed hobo who accompanied the owner of the dancing bear, and the two men who were hiding on the island! chapter xxiii. figuring it out. "that's what he said to you, did he, davy?" asked the scout-master; and perhaps unconsciously his voice was lowered a little when he spoke, as though he felt that peril lurked close by. "yes, when we were sitting close together by the fire, and he was drinkin' his cup of coffee," the other replied, also in hushed tones; while smithy hovered as near as he could get to them, his face filled with apprehension. "and he told you he wanted to meet up with the man who had a patch on the sole of his shoe, did he?" thad continued, thoughtfully. "just what he did," davy answered, cheerfully. "i remember thinkin' that it was a mighty funny way to describe a feller, by telling how one of his shoes had been mended in that way. but, thad, you know bob didn't finish tellin' me about this track over here on the old island. if he had, i'd sure remembered; and then i c'd have spoken about it to you." "i'm sorry now it didn't happen that way," remarked the scout-master, "it might have made some difference in my plans, you see, boys." "you mean you wouldn't a come here, is that it?" demanded davy; "then i'm glad you didn't know about it; because this just suits me. whew! don't it make a feller have just the nicest cold creepy feelin' run up and down his back, though? i wouldn't have lost the chance for anything." thad was compelled to smile at the odd way the other had of expressing his pleasure in the thrill that passed over him, as he contemplated the possibility of meeting with new adventures. "oh! no, i didn't mean that," he replied; "but i'd have asked you a lot of questions before coming, and perhaps we'd have been better posted. then again, i might have brought a couple more scouts along, so we could feel stronger, in case--" and he suddenly paused, with his head cocked on one side as though listening. "in case, what?" pursued davy, who wanted to know everything. "i thought i heard a voice somewhere, but it might have been a bird in the bushes," thad continued, in a relieved tone. "why, i was only going to say in case we had any trouble with these men. but they may not be here at all now. i've got an idea they own another boat, in which they could have slipped away last night while it was so dark." "then what's the use of our hunting all over the place as we're doing?" asked davy, fanning himself with his hat; for the day was turning out warm, and it began to seem like tiresome work, and all for nothing, too. "in the first place," went on thad, with that steady glow in his gray eyes that bespoke determination; "i want to see if there really is a hidden shack or a cave here, where they could be hiding out. then i'd like to learn if they're poachers, snaring the wild game, or the bass up here, and getting it to market on the sly; or some tramps who have been breaking into a store or a bank and are hiding from the constables." "a bully good place to hide, all right," remarked davy, as he glanced around at the wild character of their surroundings, and heaved another sigh in contemplation of further scrambling over those sharp-pointed rocks. "but thad," put in smithy, who had been listening all this time without saying a single word, "have you changed your mind about what these strange men may be, since you heard what davy said about that man at our camp-fire?" "well, yes, i am beginning to, right fast," answered the other, frankly. "you don't think he was as bad as they are, and meant to join them, do you?" continued smithy, taking an unexpected interest in the matter; for he had observed the party in question closely, as thad knew, and formed rather a good opinion of him, somehow. "no, i don't," replied the scout-master, decisively. "if you asked me point-blank what my opinion was, i'd say that he might be a game warden playing a part, or else an officer of the law, looking for yeggmen who have done something that they knew would send them to prison if caught!" "whew! just keep right along talking that way, thad," muttered davy. "it sure does give me the nicest feeling ever to hear you. yeggmen now is it, and not just poor game poachers? that's going some, i take it. say, perhaps they've been and broke into a rich man's place over in faversham. i happen to know that quite a few city people own cottages there for summer use." "have you ever been in faversham, davy?" asked thad, suddenly. "well, no, i must say i haven't; but i've heard some about it from a boy who visited sim eckles, and who used to live there. it's a big place, thad." "oh! size has nothing to do with this matter," remarked the other. "i was just wondering whether you might not have heard that name before." "you mean malcolm hotchkiss, don't you?" asked the other, eagerly. "yes, the name he mentioned to you, when he spoke about the marked shoe?" the patrol leader went on to say. "hold on!" davy exclaimed, hoarsely; "now, that's queer; i never once bothered my head to think about it till you asked. sure i've heard the name before. the boy over at sim eckles' mentioned it more'n once." "who is he, then, davy?" "why, malcolm hotchkiss, he's just the chief of police over at faversham, that's what, thad," replied the other scout, almost breathless in his renewed excitement. "oh; is that so?" remarked thad. "well, how does it strike you now, davy?" "looks bad for these here men, that's what," came the reply. "you mean they must be worse than game poachers; is that it?" continued thad. "i just reckon they are, thad. game wardens are hired by the state; and seems to me it don't interest the common police if a man chooses to take a few deer out of season, or net black bass against the law." "sounds like good logic, davy," thad continued; "and anybody could see that you're all fixed to follow in the footsteps of your father, when you get through law school. that settles it, in my mind. after this i don't expect to run across any nets in the lake, or snares for partridges in the woods around here." "you mean there might be something stronger than that to be found, if only we could run up against the place they use for a hideout; is that it, thad?" "i certainly do; but i wish you could tell me one thing," the other remarked. "try me and see," grinned davy. "i'm loaded with information, like a gun is, to the muzzle; and all you have to do is to pull the trigger." "try and remember if that boy said anything about this malcolm hotchkiss that would describe him--was he tall or short; did he wear a beard or had he a smooth face; were his eyes blue or black?" davy screwed up his eyebrows as though he might be cudgeling his brain to remember. then he grinned again, showing that the result had at least been satisfactory from his point of view. "i caught on to it, thad," he declared with the air of a victor. "well, what do you think about it now, davy?" "not the same man. you remember our visitor was a tall feller, don't you? well, i heard that boy say how they played a trick on malcolm, and they was only able to do it because he happened to be a small man, with white hands, and looked kinder like a woman dressed up in police uniform. but then he's smart as chain lightnin', he said at the same time." "well, that proves one thing. our visitor couldn't have been the faversham head of police. perhaps they're in the game together, and he wanted you to send word that way, knowing that hotchkiss would be able to reach him," thad concluded. "looks like you'd got it all figgered out right, thad," admitted davy, in open admiration for the genius of his chum. "and if that's the truth, i reckon it must be a pretty big game that has made this here feller take all the trouble to hire that bear man to go 'round the country with him, just so he could ask questions, and nobody think he was anything but a common tramp." "i don't just understand what sort of officer would be doing that," thad candidly admitted. "now, if these men were what bob white tells us they have down in his country, moonshiners, i could understand it. but we've rested enough now; let's go on to the boat. perhaps after all, we might decide to leave the island to look after itself from now on." "i'd sure be sorry to hear you say that, thad," remarked davy, his face showing keen disappointment. "after all, it's really none of our business," continued thad; "and now that you know the man he is looking for everywhere is somewhere around here, perhaps it'd be best for you to start over to some place where they have a telephone, and call up mr. malcolm hotchkiss at faversham." "huh! reckon i c'd surprise him a little now," chuckled davy, falling in behind the leader, as they continued on down toward the spot where the boat had been left some time before. "we've done all that could be expected of a patrol of boy scouts, under the circumstances," said thad firmly; "and the rest had better be left to men who are used to such things. listen to that wind blow, boys? i hope a storm doesn't come up before we get back to camp again. careful, davy, don't be in such a hurry; we're nearly at the beach, and our boat." "that's just it," remarked the jones boy; "i had a look in at that same beach under the branches of the trees, thad; and believe me, i didn't see a sign of any boat!" "what's that?" demanded the scout-master, quickly, a sense of gathering clouds beginning to oppress him; for it would indeed be a serious matter if they were actually taken prisoners by these unknown parties of the island, whom they now believed to be worse even than game poachers. "look for yourself, thad; for here you can see the beach end to end," davy went on; and the others stared as though hardly able to believe their eyes; for it was just as davy said; there was the little sandy stretch, without a doubt, where they had left their canoe; but from end to end it was vacant! again had the boat vanished while they were away; and this time it was utterly impossible that it could have gone without the agency of human hands, for they had pulled it high up out of the water! chapter xxiv. what smithy found. "here's tough luck, and more of it!" remarked davy jones; but while smithy was looking excited, and rather white, the jones boy was grinning, just as if the new condition of affairs, thrilling in the extreme, pleased him intensely. thad hastened to examine the ground, as a true scout always thinks of doing when he seeks information concerning the movements of others; for neither men nor boys can well move around without leaving some traces of their late presence; and when one knows how to use his eyes to advantage, it is possible to learn many valuable things after this fashion. "did they take it, thad?" continued davy, as the scout leader arose from his knees again, his face filled with all sorts of wild conjectures as to the meaning of this new mystery. "they must have," replied thad; "because they've been around since we were. fact is, as you can see for yourselves, boys; here's where the imprint of that marked shoe has half covered smithy's track. and of course that could mean only one thing." "you're right, it could," admitted davy, easily convinced. smithy looked around at the undergrowth, out of which they had just pushed. no doubt his imagination was working at full speed, and he could see a face leering out from behind every scrub bush. smithy was at least a great reader, even if he had until lately never been allowed to associate with other boys; and likely enough he had spent many hours over stevenson's "treasure island" and kindred stories of adventure. and being of a nervous temperament, the consciousness of hovering peril acted on him to a much greater extent than it did in the cases of his fellow scouts. "but where do you think they could have taken the boat, thad?" smithy now asked, as he stared out on the waves that were sweeping past so merrily, and could see no sign of any craft. "perhaps gone around the island, hiding it in some place they know about; or it might be they've just sunk the canoe out in deep water there," replied thad. "sunk their own boat!" remarked smithy, in bewilderment; "now, please explain to me just why they would want to do so remarkable a thing as that, thad?" "so that we couldn't have the use of it to get back ashore again; and our comrades over there mightn't be able to come over," was the reply of the young scout-master. "do you mean they've made up their minds to try and keep us prisoners on this terrible island?" asked the other. "it looks a little that way to me right now, smithy; fact is they've got me guessing good and hard what they do mean by that sort of thing. perhaps they want a certain amount of time to make their escape, and expect to get it by keeping us cooped up here. the question now is, shall we let them carry that scheme out?" "not if we know it, we won't," davy spoke up, and declared in his positive way. "why, i think i could manage to get over to the mainland somehow, with that log there to help me. the wind and waves would carry me along, you see, thad; and i could do my clothes up in a bundle and keep 'em dry. seems to me that's the kind of work for a scout to try, ain't it?" "a pretty good idea, davy," admitted the scout-master, readily enough; "there's only one drawback to it, that i can see." "and what might that be?" asked the one who had conceived the brilliant thought, and who seemed to be disappointed because his chief had not immediately declared it to be a marvel of ingenuity. "well, you're not much of a swimmer, and couldn't make any headway against the wind and the waves. consequently you'd just have to let them carry you along with them. that would take a lot of time; and even if you did get ashore safely it'd be at the far end of the lake. you know the country is pretty rough between there and the camp. by sticking to the beach, where there is any, you might make it in a couple of hours; but altogether it'd be well into afternoon before you got in touch with allan and the rest." "all right, i'm willing to make the try, if only you give the word, thad," the jones boy went on, with a vein of urgency in his voice. "just the idea seems to tickle me more'n i c'n tell you. and if i kept on the other side of the log, why you see, these fellers wouldn't know a thing about it. they'd think it was just an old log that had drifted around, and was going wherever the wind wanted." "well, such talk would convince anybody, i guess," laughed thad. "then you're goin' to let me try it, i hope?" ventured davy, joyfully. "perhaps i may a little later," the other admitted. "after we've talked it over some more. and first of all, i think smithy and myself had better arm ourselves in the same way you have, with a good stout club. if the worst comes, it's a jolly good thing to have in your hand." "well, i should say, yes," davy went on; "more'n once i've stood off a savage dog with a stick like this, and dared him to tackle me. but here, if i'm going to take that little swim with the log, i won't need my club. s'pose i hand it over to smithy?" there was a method in his madness; and thad, who could read between the lines, understood it easily enough. if allowed to give smithy his weapon of offense and defense, such permission would really be setting the seal of approval on his proposition to swim ashore. and davy was shrewd enough to figure on that. "all right, give it to smithy," said thad; making up his mind that since one of them ought to make the effort to get in touch with the balance of the patrol, it were better to allow davy to go than that he leave the two boys on the island; for that might look strange in a leader. and so the delighted davy hastened to comply; indeed the manner in which he thrust the stick into the willing hands of the other seemed to indicate a fear on his part lest the scout-master alter his mind. and once the club had changed hands he appeared to believe the thing was settled beyond recall. "do you think they might attack us, thad?" asked smithy, who was somewhat pale, but showing a resolute front in this crisis. "i don't know any more than you do, smithy," replied the other; "they had some scheme in view when they scooped the boat, and hid it from us. as i said before, i can't make up my mind whether they only want to make time by cutting off all chances of pursuit; or else mean to come down on us." "what do you suppose they'd be apt to do to us for giving them so much trouble, and taking their boat?" continued smithy. "what paddy gave the drum, perhaps," remarked davy; "a beating. but if you two fellers can only manage to keep out of their hands a little while, i ain't afraid about my being able to reach shore, and the camp. then what, thad?" "just what i said--have one of the boys, giraffe perhaps, because he's a good runner, start over to rockford. i think from the rough map a charcoal burner made of this section of country for me, that town can be only about seven miles or so across country, though the going might be pretty rough. here, take my little compass, in case he is afraid he may get lost in the woods," and thad detached the article in question from his silver watch chain. "i'm glad you said giraffe," remarked davy; "because if it had been step-hen, who is also a clever long-distance runner, he'd have been sure to lose himself, because he says he's going to take the first chance, just because somebody took his old compass. then, when he gets to rockford you want giraffe to get faversham the 'phone; is that it, thad?" "yes, and tell his story to the chief--all about the queer things that have happened to us up here since we made camp,--the coming of the bear; then our finding the boat; the tracks on the island; how we had a visit from the bear man, and what his companion told you to do in case you ever saw the imprint of a shoe that had a crooked patch across the sole. i reckon mr. malcolm hotchkiss'll know what to do when he gets all these facts in his head. and then giraffe can rest up before he tries to come back to-morrow." "i got it all just as you stated it, thad," declared davy, beginning to unfasten his shoes, as if anxious to be busy; "now, if you fellers would just roll that same log into the water while i'm doing up my duds in a little package that i c'n tie on top, so as to keep 'em dry, i'll be ready in short order. then you watch me paddle my own canoe for the shore. it'll be just more fun than a circus for david, believe me." so thad and smithy took hold, and with the aid of the sticks in their hands it was found that the log could be readily turned over. each time this was done it drew closer to the water's edge, and presently splashed into the lake. "see her float just like a duck, will you?" remarked the delighted davy, who was by this time making a bundle of his shoes, hat and clothes, which he expected to secure somehow to the log, or thrust into a crevice, where the package might not be seen by watchful eyes ashore. "well, anyhow, if that boat did have to be captured by the enemy," remarked smithy, just then, as if remembering something; "i'm glad i found that stuff before it went, that's a fact, boys." thad turned on him in some surprise. "now you've got us both wondering what you mean, smithy," he remarked; "suppose you explain before davy leaves us." "oh! i forgot to say anything about it," declared the other, in more or less confusion; "the fact of the matter is, thad, when i found i was going to be your canoemate on this little adventure, i went down at once and turned the boat over to see that it was perfectly clean. you know it's a hobby of mine to want everything just so; and i noticed that a little washing would improve the looks of our boat. so i took out the false bottom that keeps heavy shoes from cutting into the thin planking; and what do you suppose i found in the cracks below?" he had thrust his fingers into one of his pockets, and now held up something at which both the others stared in surprise, that gradually deepened into dismay, on the part of thad at least. "let me look at them, please, smithy," said the scout-master, quietly; and in response to his request the other placed in his outstretched hand two bright new silver half dollars! a rather queer find, to say the least, to run across under the false bottom in a little canoe that had been secreted among the bushes bordering this lonely sheet of water known as lake omega! chapter xxv. the scout-master's scheme. smithy and the jones boy watched their patrol leader with something more than ordinary curiosity, as thad examined the two shining coins. and when the other even tried his teeth on each half dollar in turn, davy gave an exclamation of delight; while the other scout was in a measure filled with sudden consternation. for both of them could understand what this meant, and that thad felt more or less suspicious regarding the genuineness of the two coins. "he thinks they might be counterfeits, smithy," said davy, in low but thrilling tones. "now wouldn't that be a great joke if we found ourselves bunking on this old island along with a lot of desperate bogus money-makers! oh! say, things are just turning out tremendous, and that's a fact. but i don't exactly know, whether there'd be more fun staying here, or taking that little voyage with the log." "that part of it has already been settled," remarked thad, with a vein of authority in his voice; for he wanted davy to understand that as a true scout, he must always pay respect to the orders of his superior, and never try to evade a duty that had been imposed upon him. "oh! all right, thad;" davy replied; "i'm willin' enough to try the swim; but say, what if they jump on you fellers while i'm away?" you would have thought from the patronizing manner of the jones boy that upon his presence alone depended the safety of the group of scouts. thad, however, knew davy pretty well by this time, and did not take all he said seriously. "we'll have to manage to get on, somehow," he said; "and perhaps, after all, the danger may not be so very great. if there are places for these two men to hide, why, seems to me we ought to be able to keep out of their sight some way or another." smithy was not saying much, but it might be understood that he was doing a whole lot of thinking. this was certainly a novel experience for him. a short time before, and he had not really known what it was to associate with any boys save a delicate little cousin away off in a city, and who was very girlish in all his ways. and here he was now, not only in the company of seven healthy fellows, fond of fun, and all outdoor sports; but a genuine scout in the silver fox patrol, and facing danger with a bravery no one had ever dreamed he could display. that was why smithy felt pleased, even while he at the same time experienced a touch of uneasiness because of the new developments that were constantly making their situation look more desperate. as thad had discovered, under all that gentle exterior there beat a heart within smithy that yearned to have its fair share of excitement. reading robinson crusoe and treasure island might be all very well; but acting a part in a little bit of daring seemed much better. thad bent down to assist davy secure his clothes to the log. the jones boy had waded in, and upon examining one side of the old tree trunk as it floated buoyantly on the water, he found that there was just the nicest hiding-place one could wish for in the shape of a cavity well above the reach of the water. "you see, thad," he explained, "it ain't goin' to be on the side that the waves beat against, and so my duds won't be apt to get _very_ wet. the cutest pocket you ever saw; and looks like it might just have been made specially for a feller that wanted to take a tour of the lake with his private yacht now, do i go, thad? i'm ready, and only waitin' for orders." "then you might as well start, davy; and if i was you i'd keep out of sight all i could. if they happened to spy you, and believed you were going for help, so that they might be captured before night came, it would go hard with you perhaps." "i got your meaning, thad," davy replied, without showing the least concern, for he was a fearless chap; "which is, that they've got the boat, and could chase after me if they thought i was going to get 'em in a peck of trouble by flitting. never you fear, i'll keep low down, and out of sight." he thereupon proved how easy it would be to lie in a position where he could guide the floating log, and yet be out of sight from the side that was toward the island. "oh! this is the greatest thing that's come my way for a long time," he said, as he walked further away from the shore, the water getting deeper all the time until his body was very nearly all submerged; "and i'm ever so much obliged to you for giving me the chance, thad. don't bother a thing about me. if some big mud-turtle don't grab me by the toe, and pull me down, i'll come out swimmingly, see?" thad knew that he could depend on the jones boy. when a fellow can even think to joke like that when facing danger of any sort, he certainly could not be feeling in a state of panic. "now the breeze strikes me, fellows, and i'm off. i'd like to give a whoop, i feel so great; but something tells me that would be wrong. so just consider that's what i'm doing inside, anyhow. good-bye, boys, and i hope you pull through o. k." thad did not answer, for the simple reason that the log with its boyish freight was already so far away that he would have to raise his voice to make davy hear; and such a thing would be foolish, when they wanted to keep as quiet as possible, so as not to attract attention. standing there, they watched the strange argosy floating away on the dancing waves. davy was urging it from the shore of the island as well as he could by swimming, and without showing any part of his person. "he's going to make that point, all right," said thad, knowing that the jones boy's one fear had been lest he ground on the bar that put out there, and be compelled to show himself in order to push off again. "but you said it would be hours before he could even get to camp, didn't you, thad?" asked smithy. "the way he's drifting now, he'll surely be at the end of the lake in half an hour; and given four times as much to make his way round all the coves, would bring him to camp about noon, i reckon. then, if giraffe starts out at once, and has fair luck traveling he ought to get to rockford in two hours, running part of the way, once he strikes the road." "that would mean two in the afternoon, then, thad?" "about that, if all goes well," the other continued, as though mapping out the programme, step by step. "then give him a quarter of an hour to tell mr. hotchkiss the story over the wire; and after that the faversham officers would have to come on here. but perhaps they might get a car to bring them along the road. it's not a first class auto road, but could be navigated i guess. say by four o'clock they could be at our camp, smithy." the other sighed. "that means something more than six hours for us to play hide and seek here on the island, doesn't it?" he remarked; but thad saw with relief that smithy was certainly showing less signs of alarm than he had expected, under the best conditions. "well, if you were only as good a swimmer as you hope to be one of these days, smithy," he remarked, pleasantly, "we might try for the shore. but as it is, we've got to make the best of a bad bargain, and wait. you've got good sight, so suppose we try and see if we can tell what the boys are doing in camp. two pair of eyes ought to be better than one any day." "but honest now, i don't seem to see a blessed fellow there," declared smithy, which was just what thad had himself found out. "i can see the fire burning lazily, and the flag whipping in that splendid breeze; but as far as i can make out the whole pack have deserted, and gone somewhere. perhaps they're fishing." "you could see them on the bank, if that were so, smithy," remarked thad. "try again with another guess; and this time think well before you answer." "well," remarked the new tenderfoot scout presently, after he had stood there, conjuring up his thoughts; "i remember that you told them something before we set sail on our trip." "just what i did, and tell me if you can remember the nature of the task they were to handle during our absence?" the scout-master continued. "allan was going to show them some more interesting things about following a trail," smithy immediately replied; "how to tell what sort of little animal like a fox, a woodchuck, a mink, a muskrat or an otter had made the marks; what it was trying to do; and how it was captured by the men who make a business of collecting skins, or as they call them, pelts." "just so," thad observed, "only it was to be this afternoon allan meant to show them all that. if you think again, now, smithy, i'm sure you'll recollect there was another piece of scout business, and a very important one too, that they were to practice this morning." "yes, i remember it all now--wigwagging it was," the tenderfoot went on to say with eagerness, and not a little satisfaction, because he had recalled everything that thad wanted him to. "allan was to go up to the top of that little bare hill back of the camp, and two of the other fellows were to hike over to another about a mile or so away. then they would exchange sentences by means of the signal flag, waved up and down and every which way, according to the alphabet used in the u. s. signal corps. and to-night the result was to be given to you to correct." "i see your memory is in good working order, smithy, for that is exactly what sort of a task i set the boys we left behind. and now, i've just thought up a dandy scheme that if it can only be carried out, may gain us just about two hours over davy's best time, in letting our chums know what a hole we're in." smithy looked interested. indeed, whatever thad did always excited his enthusiasm; for he believed the young scout-master to be the smartest boy he had ever heard of in all his life. "it's something to do with this same wigwagging, thad, i'm sure of that?" he remarked, drawing a big breath in his new excitement. "well, there's no use wasting any more time in beating around the bush, so i'll tell you right now what the idea is," thad continued, smiling at the eagerness of his comrade. "suppose i could climb to the top of some tree, and attract the attention of allan, as he stood on that bald hill, which is in plain sight from here; don't you understand that by making use of my handkerchief, and the code, i might be able to tell him what's happened, and get him to send giraffe to rockford so as to call the faversham chief over the 'phone?" smith's face was wreathed in a smile of mingled admiration and delight as he caught the full meaning of the bright thought that had come to the mind of his companion, the scout-master. chapter xxvi. a signal station in a tree-top. "oh! that's the finest thing that ever could happen, thad;" was the way the delighted smithy put his feelings into words. "and just to think that right here you can make use of scout knowledge to tell allan what's happened. why, without the wigwag telegraph we'd never be able to let him know one single thing." "just what i was thinking myself, smithy," returned the scout-master. "and as you get deeper into the splendid things a boy scout is supposed to learn, while he climbs the ladder, you'll find that never a day passes but what he can help himself, or some other fellow, by what he knows." "i'm quite certain about that, thad," smithy went on, brimming over with satisfaction, and wonder at the cleverness of his chum. "why, i was just thinking it all over this morning, and what great chances a scout has to do things that an ordinary boy would never be able to even try, because he had not learned. right now i'm positive i know how to best stop a runaway horse without endangering my life more than is absolutely necessary." "that's the kind of talk i like to hear, smithy; it shows that you understand what the scout movement stands for; and mean to make the most of the opportunities." "then suppose a chum of mine got in the water, and was taken with a cramp," smithy went on hurriedly, his blue eyes sparking with delight; "why, after what you showed me this morning, i believe that as soon as i know a little more about swimming, i could get him ashore." "and when you had done that?" questioned thad, who was meanwhile keeping his eyes around him for the purpose of discovering the best tree which he could use as a signal tower, in the carrying out of his bold plan for communicating with the balance of the silver fox patrol. "why, i wrote down every little thing you did when showing us how to revive a partly drowned person; and thad, i practiced on a dummy when nobody was around to laugh. i'm positive i have it down pat, and could do the business." "laugh!" repeated the pleased scout-master; "i'd just like to see any scout under my control make fun of a fellow who was so much in earnest that he devoted some of his spare minutes to practicing the art of saving a human life. i hope you may never have to put that knowledge to practical use, smithy; but if the occasion ever does come along, i firmly believe you'll be equal to it. i'm more than pleased at the earnest way you've taken hold of these things." "thank you, thad," replied smithy, actually with tears in his eyes; "but if i have, you can lay it partly to the fact that up to now i've been half starved in respect to all the things that most boys know and do, and just wild to learn; and also that i've had the finest chum that ever drew breath to coach me. oh! yes, there are dozens of other things i've learned that are bound to widen the horizon of any boy. it was a fortunate day for _me_ when you coaxed my mother to let me join the boy scouts. nobody else could have done it but you, thad." smithy was growing more and more excited; and thad thought best to end that sort of talk. besides, the time and place were hardly suited for an exchange of opinions with respect to the advantages of the scout movement. "we'll talk it over another time, smithy," he said, kindly. "just now we ought to bend our minds wholly on finding the right sort of tree for my wigwag station. come along, and let's take a look at that tree just up the bank yonder. seems to me it ought to answer my purpose." so he led the way to the tree in question, which happened to be close by. it was little effort for thad to climb up into the branches, leaving smithy below; with directions to return to the beach when he heard a whistle from his chief; it being thad's idea that the presence of some one below might draw attention to his flag work above, and interrupt the message. the higher he climbed the better he was satisfied; for he found that the tree was dead from a point half-way up, and consequently there was a stronger chance that he could manage to attract the attention of allan, on the hill a mile and a half away. finding the perch that seemed to answer his purpose best, thad broke off a few small dead branches that threatened to interfere with the free use of his arm. after that he gave the whistle to let smithy know the signalman was fixed, and that he had better go back to the beach to wait. as yet he had seen nothing of allan. the bald top of the hill was in plain sight from where the scout-master sat, perched aloft, but he scanned it in vain. thad would not allow himself to doubt that presently the second in command of the patrol would show up there. he knew allan was a stickler for obeying orders to the very letter, and if his superior had said that he should reach the crown of that hill at exactly seven minutes after ten, the chances were fifty to one allan would make his appearance on the second; or there would be trouble in the camp. so, to amuse himself while waiting thad turned partly around, and looked after davy. at first he was astonished not to see the floating log on the troubled surface of the lake to leeward, where it had been moving at a pretty fast clip when the scout-messenger left the island. he experienced a sudden sensation of alarm, but immediately took a fresh grip on himself. surely the waves were not so very boisterous now, for the wind seemed to be diminishing, if anything. and davy was a pretty fair swimmer, all things considered. thad presently gave expression to a little sigh of relief; for far away, just under the fringe of trees bordering the extreme end of lake omega, he had discovered a moving object. it was the flash of a breaking wave over the same that had attracted his attention first; and he now made out the floating log. then davy must have made much better time than he, thad, had expected would be the case. no doubt he had assisted the progress of his novel craft by swimming, being desirous of reaching land as soon as possible. so thad divided his time between the bald top of the signal station hill, and the log that as he knew concealed the swimming scout. "there he goes, creeping through the shallow water and heading for the bank," he presently muttered to himself in a pleased way. "and i can give a pretty good guess that right now davy is the happiest fellow in the county; because he just loves adventure of any kind, and he's sure getting his fill. there, he pulls himself up on the shore, and ducks behind that bunch of brush! good boy, davy; that ought to count for a merit mark, all right. nobody could have done it better, and few as well." after that davy vanished from his sight. he knew that the other was making for camp at his best speed; but as he had a difficult task, with the way so rough, it must be a couple of hours at least before he could expect to bring up at the tents, where the flag floated gaily from the mast. turning wholly, so as to devote his full attention to the signal station hill, thad counted the minutes that seemed to drag so heavily. once or twice he thought he heard some sort of rustling sound down on the island somewhere. he hoped that nothing was happening to smithy; but of course it was utterly out of the question for him to call aloud, to inquire whether the tenderfoot scout was safe. "he ought to be showing up soon now," thad was muttering as he kept watch of the smooth hilltop; "every minute lost counts now. i hope nothing has happened in camp to disarrange the programme i laid out." he had hardly spoken when he started, and a pleased look came over his anxious face; for at last there was a movement on the bald top of the elevation, as if something might be doing. yes, a human figure was climbing steadily upward, now and then stopping to make some sort of gesture to an unseen comrade at the base of the hill, either with his arm, or one of the signal flags he carried. eagerly thad watched the ascent of his chum. he knew that allan was carrying the precious field glasses, for he saw the sun glint from their lens when the other stopped to take a survey. oh! if he would only look toward the island now; for thad was already waving his handkerchief up and down, and ready to make a certain signal which had often been used as a sign of importance between himself and this chum from maine. once allan detected it, he would know instantly that the person waving was the scout-master, and that he had news of great importance to communicate. but it seemed as if allan were devoting all his attention to the other quarter, where he doubtless anticipated seeing the second signalman begin to tell him that the station was ready to receive messages. still, knowing that three of the patrol had gone that very morning to the mysterious island, to investigate further into the strange things it seemed to hide, it would seem that presently allan _must_ turn his head, and sweep the shore of the same with his glasses. ordinary curiosity should cause him to do that; thad thought as he waited; waving his handkerchief and fixing his eyes on the far-away figure of the khaki-clad scout with the flags. he even found himself hoping that the one sent to a more distant station might meet with some unexpected delay on the way; so that, becoming weary of looking for a sign, allan would presently amuse himself by taking a view of other quarters. five minutes later, and thad's heart gave a throb. he could see that his wish was coming true, for the sun flashed more brightly than ever as it glanced from the moving lens of the field glass. allan was now surveying the landscape around him, and gradually his attention must be drawing nearer the island. so thad began to make the circular movement, followed by a downward plunge of his handkerchief, that would surprise allan when he noticed it, for he was bound to understand what it signified. a few seconds of suspense, and then thad breathed with relief. he had seen the other focus his glasses straight toward the tree, in the dead upper branches of which, he, thad, was clinging, and wildly waving his improvised signal flag. "he sees me! good for that!" thad said to himself; while his heart was pounding wildly within its prison, because of the excitement that had seized him in its grip. chapter xxvii. the wigwag telegraph. thad now devoted himself to the task of communicating all he had to say to his second in command, and as briefly as possible. time was a factor in the affair; and it would not pay to waste more minutes than were absolutely necessary. the full particulars must be kept, to thrill the patrol as they sat around the next blazing camp-fire, each one telling his individual part of the story. fortunately thad and allan had long been practicing this exchange of flag signals together; and in this way had become fairly expert in the use of the little telegraphic code that takes the place of the dot-and-dash of the wire process. with but his handkerchief to use in place of the flag, thad knew he would be hampered more or less; but he had faith in the ability of his chum to grasp the truth, once he caught an inkling of the peril that threatened. and now allan was signaling that he understood the chief wished to send an important message, which he was ready to receive. so thad commenced by asking: "who have you close by to send with a message to rockford?" allan asked him to repeat; and no wonder, for he could not exactly grasp such an astonishing query; but on its being waved again he replied promptly: "giraffe, bumpus; other two gone signal station beyond." "o. k. send giraffe at once. tell him to make it as fast as he can. at rockford get chief police at faversham on 'phone; name malcolm hotchkiss. tell him all that happened to us, about bear men, and that one of them asked davy to let chief know if he saw footprint of marked shoe around. believe that man on island, and that he is thief wanted by authorities. how?" this last was the query they understood between them. it meant that the sender wished to know if the burden of his message was being fully sensed by the one at the receiving end. "o. k. tremendous! go on!" came the immediate reply. such long messages took more or less time, and would have been impossible only that in their enthusiasm the two scouts had abbreviated the code, so that they were able to really exchange sentences in a short-hand way. thad went on to give the other more knowledge, believing that giraffe ought to be posted up to a certain point, so that he could urge the chief of the faversham police to hasten his movements; for if night fell, without the hidden men being captured, they could get away under cover of darkness. "davy gone ashore behind floating log. just landed at end of lake. thought of this scheme after he left. man with owner of bear we believe to be officer of law, looking for these rascals. let giraffe have your compass. give him map i left in tent. our boat taken, and we can't get ashore, for smithy not able to swim. let all practice for day drop, and keep in camp, ready to take another message." then thad made the winding-up movement that told allan he did not wish to consume more time by further talk. enough had been sent in this tedious way to let the other know the main facts of the matter; and they were surely startling enough in themselves, without the particulars that would follow later on, when peace had settled over the camp. he saw that allan understood the need of haste; for as soon as he had made that peremptory signal, the second in command commenced going down the slope of the hill with the bald top, taking great leaps as he went. eagerly did thad watch his progress. once, in his haste, allan tripped and fell headlong; and thad's heart seemed to be in his mouth with the suspense; but immediately the other scrambled to his feet again. his first thought must have been of the chum whose eyes he knew were glued upon him; for he made a reassuring wave of his arm, and resumed his downward progress, a trifle more carefully now. presently he vanished among the trees that grew about two-thirds of the way up, and thad saw only occasional glimpses of him from that moment onward; as the flying figure flashed across some little gap in the verdure-clad hillside; never failing to wave his arms reassuringly to the watcher. "he must be nearly down at the base now," thad said to himself, after some time had elapsed since he saw any sign of the hurrying scout. knowing what was apt to follow, he kept his ears on the alert for welcome sounds which would tell that allan had given the recall to the two scouts sent to the distant station, with their relay of flags, in order to receive and send messages. a minute, two, three of them glided away. thad was beginning to feel a trifle uneasy, not knowing but that some further accident might have happened to allan, in his eagerness to reach the foot of the hill. but his fears proved groundless. presently there floated distinctly to his ears, for water carries sounds wonderfully well, the sweet notes of the bugle which bumpus hawtree knew so well how to manipulate. it was the "assembly" that was sounded, and those distant scouts, upon hearing the well-known signal, would surely understand its tenor; and that for some reason the plans of the day had undergone a decided change, so that they were to return forthwith to the camp. sweeter sounds thad believed he had never heard than those that came stealing over the troubled surface of lake omega that morning, when affairs were beginning to have such a serious look for the silver fox patrol. he gave a sigh of relief. some of the strain seemed to have departed, now that his signaling task had apparently been successfully carried out. "in a short time, giraffe will be starting across for the road leading to rockford," thad was saying to himself, as he sat there in his lofty eyrie, and surveying the whole island that lay bathed in the sunlight beneath him. "with a fair amount of good luck he ought to get there by half-past one, perhaps much earlier; for giraffe is a fast runner, and has staying powers." the prospect was of a character to give thad infinite pleasure. and somehow he seemed also greatly delighted because he had been able to hurry matters along in a wonderful manner, thanks to the knowledge he and allan possessed of this signal corps work. "why, it's already paid us ten times over for all the trouble we took to learn the code," he was saying to himself, between chuckles. "and besides, it was only fun, learning. smithy was right when he said this boy scout business was the best thing ever started in this or any other country to benefit fellows. and i'm glad i had that idea of starting a troop in sleepy old cranford, so far behind the times." just then he happened to remember that he was not alone on the island. smithy would be getting quite anxious about him by now; and thad concluded that he ought to hunt the other scout up, so as to relieve his mind. he had read enough of the character of the new tenderfoot scout to feel certain that smithy would obey orders to the letter. told to wait on the little pebbly beach until his superior officer joined him, he would stay there indefinitely; just as another lad, known to history and fame, casibianca, "stood on the burning deck, whence all but him had fled," simply because his father had told him to remain there. so thad commenced to descend from his lofty perch, meaning to hunt smithy up, and not only relieve his natural suspense, but reward him for his long vigil by relating the result of the exchange of signals. that the new recruit would be deeply interested, he felt sure; for everything connected with the scouting business had a fascination for smithy; now living an existence he may have dreamed about in former days, but really never hoped to personally experience. just then the loon, floating and diving out on the bosom of the water somewhere, had to give vent to his idiotic laugh. possibly he had been observing the watcher in the dead tree-top, and was announcing his opinion of such silly antics when he noticed thad begin to descend. the sound struck a cold chill to the heart of the boy, though he laughed at himself immediately afterward for allowing such a feeling to come over him. "it's only the loon," he said, as he again slipped from limb to limb, constantly nearing the base of the tree. "i suppose the thing's been watching me all the time, and wondering what under the sun a fellow could be doing, waving his old handkerchief around as though he were daffy. he looks on me as a lunatic, and i know him to be a loon." chuckling at his little joke, thad presently reached a point where he could hang from the lower limb by his hands, and then drop lightly to the ground. he waited only a minute to recover his breath, for after all the coming down had been more of a task than the mounting upward. then he started for the shore of the lake, and the little beach that had witnessed both landings of the invading parties of scouts. twice now had that same beach afforded a surprise as unwelcome as it was unexpected, when the boat had vanished so strangely. thad hoped history would not feel bound to repeat itself. true, they no longer had a boat to lose, since it had already disappeared; but then, there was smithy! as he drew near the beach, he tried to discover the form of his comrade somewhere in the open, but without success. still, thad knew that the tenderfoot would doubtless consider it the part of wisdom to hide, while waiting for his comrade to finish his work aloft, and join him. thinking thus, and yet with an uneasiness that he could hardly understand, thad kept on, until presently he had broken through the last line of bushes, and stepped out on the little sandy stretch of beach. certainly smithy was not in sight. he turned in both directions, and swept the half circle of brush with an anxious gaze. then he called in a low tone, but which might easily have been heard by any one chancing to be hiding behind that fringe of bushes: "smithy, hello!" there was no answer to his summons. the loon laughed again out on the lake, as though mocking his anxiety; a squirrel ran down a tree, and frisked about its base; but the tenderfoot scout seemed to have vanished as utterly as though the earth had opened and swallowed him up. chapter xxviii. the trail among the rocks. of course the scout-master was given a shock when he realized that smithy could not be where he had told him to wait until relieved. all sorts of dire things commenced to flash through his head. "here, this won't do at all," he presently muttered, starting to get a firm grip on himself; "i've myself alone to depend on, to find out the truth about smithy, and to do that i must keep my head level. now, i wonder have i made a mistake about the calibre of smithy, and could he have wandered off in a careless way?" somehow he did not find himself taking any great amount of stock in this theory. why, had it been easy-going bumpus now, or even rather careless step-hen, thad fancied that there might have been more or less truth back of the suspicion; but unless his study of the tenderfoot had been wrong, smithy would not be guilty of disobedience. "well, what am i thinking about?" was the way thad took himself to task presently; "trying to find the answer to a riddle by bothering my brains, when it ought to be written here on the sand as plain as print." immediately he commenced to move about, looking for signs. of course there must be all manner of footprints there, some recent, and others made on the occasion of the preceding visit of the scouts. but thad had studied trail finding more or less under the watchful eye of the maine boy, who knew considerable about it; and hence he was able to decide what were new, and what old footprints. and he had not been at this task more than half a minute when he received considerable of a shock. "why, here's that footprint with the marked sole!" he whispered, a new thrill in the region of his heart. he could guess what that meant, for it was very fresh and new. the man whom he now believed to be some sort of criminal, had been right there on the beach since he, thad, had quitted the spot to climb the tree selected for his signaling operations! and since smithy was supposed to be waiting there, only one inference could be drawn--the tenderfoot scout had fallen into the enemy's hands! evidently matters were approaching a crisis now. the two men who hid on this island as though they feared their fellows to see them, were beginning to grow bolder. at first they had only felt annoyed by the coming of the scouts, and the making of the camp opposite their secret retreat. then, by degrees, as the boys began to infringe on their territory, they had commenced to strike back; first by causing the boat to disappear; and now by capturing poor smithy, who must be nearly dead with fright because of his peril. thad suspected the men may have begun to fear that their hiding-place was known, and that the boys would be trying to either effect their capture, or communicate their discovery to the authorities in some neighboring town. perhaps they hoped to keep matters boiling at fever heat until night fell, when they could make use of the recovered boat to slip away; or else swim from the island retreat. he looked further, and soon found marks that plainly told the story of a struggle. it had been brief, however, for evidently smithy was evidently taken by surprise, and with his breath immediately cut off by a cruel grip, must have soon yielded. thad looked around him. would the two desperate characters be coming back to find the other scout? did they know that davy had gone with that log? perhaps even at that minute hostile eyes might be upon him! the very thought caused thad to take a firmer grip on the stout cudgel he carried, and resolve that should he be attacked, these rascals would not have the easy victory they had found with his comrade, smithy. but all was quiet and peaceful around him; and by degrees his excited nerves quieted down. what should he do, now that he knew the worst? of course, being such a good swimmer, thad might easily have stripped, and made his way over to the mainland, providing the men did not take a notion to chase after him in the boat. he put the thought aside with impatience. that would be deserting smithy, who looked up to him as a faithful friend and ally; and this thad would never be guilty of doing. should he simply conceal himself somewhere on the island, and wait for the coming of afternoon, and the expected officers? suppose, for instance, giraffe lost his way while trying to make rockford, what then would become of smithy? thad felt that he could never look a scout in the face again if he were guilty of such small business. "i'm going to do my best to find smithy, no matter what happens," he said to himself, as he shut his teeth hard together, and took a fresh grip on that comforting cudgel he carried again. "perhaps they may stick close to their hiding-place, wherever that is, thinking they've scared the rest of us nearly to death; and that we'll swim ashore. here goes, then, to follow the trail." he had already discovered where the party had left the sandy stretch, plunging into the shrubbery, at a point beyond that where he and smithy had made use of. the island, as has been stated before, was so very rocky that thad, not being an expert at following a trail under such difficulties, might have had a hard time of it in places, but for unexpected, but none the less welcome, assistance. here and there, when he came to a small patch of earth, he was surprised to find plain marks of feet, and several deep furrows, as though some one had sagged in his walk, and was being half dragged along by those who had hold of either arm. this must have been smithy; and at first thad was dreadfully worried, under the belief that his comrade might have been struck on the head, and injured. but when the same thing kept on repeating itself, and invariably when there was earth to show the marks, he suddenly grasped the splendid truth. "oh! isn't that boy a dandy, though?" he whispered to himself, in delight; "as sure as anything now, he's just doing that on purpose, meaning to leave as broad a trail as he can, so i could follow. didn't i say smithy had it in him to make one of the best scouts in the whole troop; and don't this prove it? good for smithy; he's all right!" it made thad feel quite pleased to know that the tenderfoot could be so smart, with such little training. he continued to follow the tracks with new ambition. so energetic a chum deserved to be looked after; and thad was better satisfied than ever because he had resolved to hunt for smithy, rather than lie around, trying to hide from the enemy in case they were out looking for him. by degrees he found that he was getting into a section of the island which did not seem familiar to him in the least. evidently, then, in their various trips over the place, the boys had unconsciously avoided this part; possibly because of its very roughness, and the difficulty of pushing through the dense vegetation, and over the piled-up rocks. "no wonder they chose this place to hide," thought thad, as he climbed across a barrier that taxed his powers; and wondered at the same time however poor smithy was ever able to make it, tied as he must be, or gripped in the hands of his two captors. he realized that he must now be getting nearer the den where the two unknown men used as a hideout. the very solitude of the place affected him. it was as if a heavy weight had been laid on his back, that threatened to crush him. still, thad was a very determined lad. having made up his mind to accomplish the rescue of his comrade, if it were at all possible, he would not allow himself to be daunted by trifles such as these. only shutting his teeth more firmly together, he kept pushing resolutely on, eyes and ears constantly on the alert. perhaps giraffe was having just such a difficult job in making his way across the country between the lake and rockford; and if so, thad hoped he too was pushing resolutely forward, undismayed by no obstacles that loomed up ahead. now and then thad was at a loss which way to turn, for the rocks left little or no trace for him to follow. at such times he had to exercise his knowledge of slight clues to the utmost. then besides, he could look around him and judge pretty well how those he was following, foot by foot, must have gone. and finally thad saw something just beyond that told him he had reached the end of the faint trail. it was a gloomy looking hole among the rocks that stared him in the face, with the trail leading straight toward it. if ever there was a bear that had its den on that island, surely this must have been the spot; for it far excelled anything else that the scout had seen since he had started to prowl around. as he crept closer he was astonished to see what a peculiar condition existed with regard to that open mouth of the bear den. just above hung an immense stone that ordinarily several men could never have turned over, or even moved; yet by some convulsion of nature far back, this rock had been so delicately poised above the mouth of the cave that thad believed even a boy could send it crashing down, if he but hurled his strength against it. "and if it _did_ fall," he said to himself, with a sudden shiver of delight, "i honestly believe it would fill in that hole, so that not even a rattlesnake could crawl out. oh! if those men are in there, as i hope, and i could start that cap-stone rolling, wouldn't they be shut up as snug as if they were in a bottle, with the cork shoved in?" but fascinating as that possibility appeared to thad, he must remember that the men had smithy with them as a hostage. they could dictate terms of surrender so long as they held the tenderfoot scout a prisoner. and unless he could manage in some clever way to effect the release of smithy, he had better go slow about trying to bottle them up in that bear's den. he crept still closer, and lying there on his breast, listened anxiously, his ear close to the black opening. a regular sound came stealing out that, for a short time, puzzled him; and then thad decided that it must be the snoring of a man who was asleep, and lying on his back. dare he try and crawl into the cave, to ascertain how the land lay? thad was anything but a coward; but he could be excused for hesitating, and taking stock of the chances before deciding this important matter. but after a little he must have made up his mind; for he crept past the guardian rocks, and slipped into the entrance of the bear's den! chapter xxix. springing the trap. when thad brewster was thus making his way into the hole in the rocks, perhaps he may have remembered reading what old israel putnam, the revolutionary hero, did when a mere stripling, entering the den of a savage wolf, and dragging the beast out after him. well, in a way thad was doing just as brave an act. true, those whom he had reason to fear, were human beings like himself; but they must be cruel men, since he knew them to be desperate characters; and if they discovered him invading their retreat, no doubt they would attack him with the ferocity of wolves. he found himself in a passage-way among the rocks. it had evidently been well traveled by the feet or knees of the men who may have long concealed themselves in the snug retreat; while officers were searching the surrounding country in a vain quest for clues to their hiding-place. thad started when he suddenly heard a gruff voice; it sounded so very close by, that his first thought was he had been discovered. but as he caught the words that were spoken he realized his mistake. "mebbe ye'll be sorry now, ye bothered a couple of poor fellers atryin' hard to make a few honest dollars a takin' game out of season, an' sellin' the same to the rich folks what jest has to have it any ole time. jest sit up, an' tell me what yer friends are thinkin' of doin' 'bout it." then thad was thrilled to hear the voice of his chum respond. evidently, if the men had kept some sort of muffler over smithy's mouth during the time they were bringing him to their underground retreat, it had now been removed, as if they no longer feared that he would bring the others down upon them. "why, you see, we just wanted to explore this queer island, and that's all there is to it. yes, we did rather guess that somebody must have been taking fish or game when the law was shut down on it; but then, you see, that was none of our business. we're just boy scouts off on a camping trip; and nobody's employed us to bother with game poachers, or send word to the wardens." "game wardens, hey? ye seem to let that slip off yer tongue, younker, like ye might be used to sayin' the same. what we want to know is, why are ye so pesky anxious like to look this here island over? lost anything here?" "well, a boat we had seems to have disappeared in a funny way," smithy said; and thad could not notice anything like a tremble in the tenderfoot's voice, which fact pleased him greatly. "huh! thet boat belonged to us in the fust place, younker, an' ye hooked it from us. spect ye thought boats jest growed in the bushes like wild plums, when ye run acrost that un. wall, they don't, an' ye had no bizness to take it. an' what's more, me and my pal think ye mean to let the wardens know 'bout what we've been adoin' up this ways." smithy made no reply, and thad knew why. the tenderfoot was well aware of what his chum had been doing while wigwagging allan. he also knew that in all probability giraffe must even then be on his way over to rockford, to get the faversham chief on the 'phone, and give him a message that would bring the whole police force hustling over to omega lake, bent on making a big haul. "don't try to deny it, do ye, younker?" the man continued to growl; and from the fitful light that rose and fell thad found reason to believe that there must be some sort of fire around the bend in the passage. "well, let me tell ye what we mean to do about it. we'll jest keep ye fast here till night sets in, while yer friends hunt around, and git more an' more skeered, believin' ye must a fell inter the lake. then we'll cut stick out of this place, and leave ye behind. p'raps so ye cud yell loud enough to draw 'em in here. better be asavin' of yer breath, boy; 'cause ye'll have to do some tall shoutin' if ye wants to get out alive, arter bill'n me vacate. now roll over, and go to sleep. i'm hungry, and mean to cook a bite or two." after waiting for a few minutes, and hearing nothing more, thad ventured to peep around the rocky bend. he saw that he had sized up the situation perfectly. one man bent over a small fire, and seemed to be busily engaged in cooking himself some food, which already began to scent the cave. from the quarter where the rumbling sounds came, the boy could see an indistinct form huddled on a blanket. the man at the fire seemed to have a bandage around his left leg, and hobbled as he walked; from which thad supposed he must have met with an accident of some kind. this might in a measure account for their having taken refuge on the island, rather than make their safety sure by flight. he looked further, and was soon able to make out another figure lying on the rocky floor of the place. this he had no doubt must be his chum, smithy. yes, once, as the limping man threw a handful of fresh fuel on the fire, causing the flames to leap up, and for the moment illuminate the place, thad's eager eyes discovered the well-known khaki color of the boy scout uniform worn so jauntily by the particular new recruit. oh! if only he could creep across the space that lay between, and set the bound boy free, how gladly would he attempt it. and the more he contemplated the thing, the better satisfied did thad become that he could accomplish it. why, there did not seem to be any great obstacle to prevent him. surely the man who snored so deeply would not be able to interfere; and the second fellow at the fire was so deeply concerned with getting himself some lunch that apparently he had thought for nothing else. so thad decided to make the attempt. even if it turned out to be a failure he believed he could elude any pursuer in the gloom of the cave entrance, and manage to reach the open in safety. and the possible result was so pleasant to contemplate that he just could not resist trying for it. accordingly, thad started to creep around the bend. he kept as flat on his stomach as possible, and always made it a point to watch the man at the fire. if the hungry one seemed to be looking that way, thad flattened himself out as near like a pancake as he could, and did not so much as move a finger until such time as he felt convinced that the enemy had his full attention again taken up with his work. in this cautious way, then, did the scout draw closer and closer to the figure of the captive. he hoped smithy would be sensible, and not betray him by an incautious exclamation, when he learned of his presence. now he was within a foot of the other, and could hear him breathing softly as he lay there. thad had figured it out that if he kept quiet, and merely tried to feel for the other's bound hands, smithy might let out a whoop as he felt something touch his wrists, under the belief that it might be a crawling snake. so, to avoid this chance of betrayal, thad had determined to get his lips as close to the ear of the prisoner as he could, and then gently whisper his name. watching for his chance, thad found it when the man at the fire was humming a snatch of a song to himself, as though care set lightly on his shoulders. "smithy--'sh!" thad saw a movement of the bound form. smithy even lifted his head, and turned his eyes toward the spot from whence that thrilling, if soft, whisper had come. but fortunately he did not attempt to make the least sign, or try to whisper back. now that his chum had been warned of his presence thad believed he could proceed to the next step in his carefully-arranged programme. this was to reach over, find just how smithy was tied, and with the use of his pocket-knife, which he held open in his hand, effect his release. the most risky part of the entire affair must lie in their retreat. here smithy, being a veritable greenhorn, was very apt to make some blunder that would draw the attention of the hungry man, and result in discovery. but there was no need of wasting time when the choice lay only in one selection. thad fumbled around until he could locate the bonds that had been tied around the wrists of smithy. these he quickly severed, at the same time trusting to luck that he did not cut the boy with the sharp blade of his knife. next in order he crawled a little further, and managed to saw apart another piece of old rope that had been wound around the ankles of smithy. the latter knew what was expected of him. perhaps it was mere instinct that told the tenderfoot, since he had never gone through any such experience as this before. but at any rate, no matter what influenced him, smithy had already commenced to move backward. thad was greatly "tickled" as he himself expressed it later, when he saw how smithy maneuvered, keeping his head toward the enemy while moving off, as if he just knew he ought to watch the man, and lie low in case he looked. thad had waited only long enough to fix the blanket upon which smithy had been lying, so that it would look like a human form reclining there. this he did by causing the middle to remain poked up a foot or so in the air, by deftly crunching the folds in his hand. at a casual glance in that uncertain light, any one over there, with his eyes dazzled by looking into the flickering firelight, might be deceived into believing that the prisoner still lay where he had been left. foot by foot the two scouts backed away. why, smithy was doing as well as any experienced fellow could have shown himself capable of performing. smithy had certainly all the qualities in him to make a first-class scout; and thad meant to encourage the ambition of the other to the utmost, given the opportunity. now they were turning the bend, and everything seemed to still be going smoothly. it began to look as though thad had accomplished a task that at one time he feared would be beyond his capacity; and that freedom lay ahead for the late prisoner of the old bear's den. just as they reached the outlet there sounded a loud shout coming from the interior. it could have but one meaning, and this, discovery. the hungry man had possibly walked over to say something else to smithy, and found that the prisoner had taken "french leave." "this way, and give me a hand, quick!" exclaimed thad, as he leaped out of the mouth of the den, and toward the pivotical rock that hung so temptingly above. smithy seemed to have noticed the same stone, for he threw himself against it at the very instant thad did. their combined weight, added to the force with which they struck the trembling rock, proved to be sufficient to start it moving. it appeared to hesitate just a second, and then went crashing over, making the very ground tremble with the tremendous shock. and so the mouth of the old bear's den was sealed, imprisoning within, the two fugitives from the law. chapter xxx. the mystery solved--conclusion. "there!" exclaimed thad, as he panted for breath after his supreme effort which resulted in the toppling of the boulder over the mouth of the rocky retreat of the two desperate characters; "if only there is no other way out, i reckon we've got those birds safely caged till the officers come." "well," remarked smithy, who actually had some color in his usually pale cheeks, and whose blue eyes were sparkling with excitement; "from certain things they let fall when they were conversing, thad, i am of the opinion that this is the only exit, as well as entrance to the place." smithy had been fed on big words, and very exact language so long, that as yet his association with other boys less particular had failed to rub away any of the veneer. in time, no doubt, he would fall into the customary method among boys of cutting their words short, and saving breath in so doing. "yes," remarked thad, smiling broadly, "and from the way you can hear those two fellows on the other side of the stone carrying on, i guess you must be right; for they seem to be some angry i take it." "you don't think they could upset this rock, do you?" asked smithy, a little anxiously. "not in a thousand years, without crowbars to help them. there they stay till we get ready to invite 'em out. when the officers come, they'll find a way to do the trick, never fear, smithy. but how do you feel about taking a trip across to the camp right now?" smithy started, and turned an anxious face out to the water, where the waves were still running fairly high, though the wind had died down. "i'm willing to do anything you say, thad," he replied, with a sigh. "even if you never swam fifty feet in your whole life," remarked the scout-master, admiringly, for the pluck of the tenderfoot appealed to him strongly; "but make your mind easy, smithy, for i don't want you to swim, this time." "but thad, how else can i go?" pursued the other. "we have no boat; i never did learn to walk on the water, you see; and so far, my wings haven't sprouted worth mentioning; so how can i get over to our camp?" "why, i didn't think to mention it to you, and i really haven't had the chance, to tell the truth; but i happened to discover where those men hid _our_ boat in the bushes as i came along on the trail you left. and smithy, while i think of it i just want to say that was a clever dodge of yours, making all the mess you could with your shoe every time you came to a patch of dirt. it helped me a heap, and saved me a lot of time." smithy fairly glowed with pride. a compliment from the scout-master was worth more to this boy than anything he could imagine. "i don't know what made me think of that, thad; it just seemed to pop into my mind, you see. and i'm delighted to hear you say it helped some. as to my going over to the camp in the boat, i'm ready, as soon as we can launch the canoe. while i have had only a little experience in a boat, i've managed to pick up a few wrinkles, and ought to be able to get ashore safely. what do you want me to do, thad?" "explain the situation to the others, and then have allan and bob white paddle over; yes, step-hen might as well come with them to take back the boat again, for the officers will need it when they arrive." the canoe was easily carried down to the water and then smithy with a few directions from his chief, started across. he managed very well, though once thad had a little scare, thinking there was going to be an upset. in due time smithy was seen to land, with the other boys crowding around, doubtless plying him with eager questions. shortly after the boat started off again, this time holding allan, who plied the paddle with wonderful skill, bob white, who might have done just as well if given the chance, and step-hen. when they reached shore thad breathed easier. if the two men should break out now there would be four stout fellows to oppose them; but all the same no one was anxious to have such a thing happen. the boys had brought something to eat along, and they all sat down to have a bite. everything was quiet inside the old bear's den. bob white said he hoped the rascals had not been smothered; and thad declared they could get plenty of air through the crevices between the rocks. on his part he was secretly hoping that the fellows might not be able to cut their way out before help came. the time dragged slowly. again and again did some impatient fellow ask thad to look at his watch, and tell him how much longer they must wait before the officers might be expected. as the westering sun sank lower and lower, thad himself began to grow anxious; and could be noticed listening intently every time the faint breeze picked up; for it was now coming exactly from the quarter whence the assistance they expected would come. "there, that was sure an auto horn, tooting!" he exclaimed about half-past four in the afternoon. every one of them listened, and presently sure enough they agreed that it could be nothing else, though the loon out on the lake started his weird cry about that time, as though he considered it a challenge from some rival bird. "get aboard, and pull for the shore, step-hen," ordered the scout-master; and as he had been expecting this, the long-legged scout pushed off. they watched him paddling, and when he had almost reached the spot where smithy and bumpus, together with davy jones stood, a car came in sight, loaded with some four or five men in blue uniforms; giraffe, and another, wearing ordinary clothes. step-hen brought two of the officers, and the extra man over, and then went back for another pair, while thad talked with the chief of the faversham police, and the man whom he recognized as the guest they had given a cup of coffee to at the time the owner of the bear claimed his property. the story was soon told, and it thrilled the scouts as they had seldom been stirred before. it seemed that the two men were notorious counterfeiters, known to the authorities as bill dalgren and seth evans. they had been surrounded by officers a month before, at a place where they were engaged in the manufacture of bogus half dollars; but had cleverly managed to escape with some of their dies and other material. one of them had been injured in the fracas accompanying this failure to catch them at work. since then their whereabouts had become a matter of considerable moment to the authorities at washington, and one of the cleverest revenue officers was put on the case. he had disguised himself, and hiring the owner of the dancing bear, had gone around the country trying to get trace of the men, one of whom he knew wore a shoe with an oddly patched sole. this gentleman, mr. alfred shuster, assured the scouts that they were entitled to the heavy reward offered by the government to any one giving information leading to the capture of the two bold rascals; and he declared that he would see to it that this amount was paid into the treasury of the cranford troop of boy scouts, as they had certainly earned it. when the big rock was finally rolled away, with the aid of heavy wooden bars, the trapped men came meekly forth when ordered. all the fight seemed to have been taken out of them. indeed, the one with the lame leg declared he was glad that he might now have the assistance of a doctor, for he had of late begun to fear that blood poisoning was setting in. in the place plenty of evidence to convict the two men was found. so by degrees everybody was ferried over to the camp, bob white taking turns with allan in wielding the paddle. afterward the big auto whirled away, taking the wretched prisoners, as well as their exultant captors along. then the camp of the silver fox patrol settled down once more to its usual peace. until late that night, however, the boys, unable to sleep after all this excitement, sat around the blazing camp-fire, talking. from every angle the story was told until each fellow knew it by heart. and all united in praising smithy for the part he had had taken in the capture of the men for whom the officers of the law were searching. for two more days the scouts remained in camp, and during that time many were the things allan and thad showed them. no one ever missed the real scout-master for a single minute. and when the hour arrived for the tents to come down, since a wagon had arrived to bear them back home, the eight members of the patrol united in declaring that they had had the time of their lives; and did not care how soon the experience might be repeated. on the way back thad ordered a halt at the identical spot where that little spring bubbled up, and ran away with such a cheery sound. while the fellows were drinking and sitting around, thad called the attention of them all to some peculiar sort of fruit the small tree close by seemed to be bearing, in one of the lower crotches, where three limbs started out, forming a sort of cup. "why, i declare, if it isn't my compass!" cried step-hen, turning very red in the face, as he eagerly reached up, and secured the little aluminum article. "yes," said thad, severely, "i saw you put it there, carelessly, when we were all here, and said nothing at the time; for i wanted to teach you a lesson. and now, all the time we were in camp, you've been accusing bumpus here of losing, or hiding your compass. i think you owe him something, if you're a true scout, step-hen." "you're right i do," said the other, jumping up, and hurrying over to where the fat boy sat, his eyes dancing with delight over being cleared so handsomely; "and right here i want to say that i humbly apologize to bumpus, who is the best fellow in the whole lot. i hope he'll forgive me, because i really thought he was playing a joke on me. you will, won't you, bumpus? i was just a silly fool, that's what." "mebbe you were, step-hen," said bumpus, calmly, as he gingerly accepted the other's hand; "and i hope that this will be a lesson to you, as our patrol leader says. when a scout gives his word, he expects it to be believed, step-hen. but it's all right; and i hope you find right good use for that fine little compass when we get off on that trip into the blue ridge mountains." and at that every scout snatching off his campaign hat, gave three cheers, as though right then, with the coals of their first camp-fire hardly cold, they were looking forward with eagerness to another outing that would bring new adventures in its train. the end. the jack lorimer series volumes by winn standish handsomely bound in cloth full library size--price cents per volume, postpaid * * * * * captain jack lorimer; or, the young athlete of millvale high. jack lorimer is a fine example of the all-around american high-school boy. his fondness for clean, honest sport of all kinds will strike a chord of sympathy among athletic youths. jack lorimer's champions; or, sports on land and lake. there is a lively story woven in with the athletic achievements, which are all right, since the book has been o.k.'d by chadwick, the nestor of american sporting journalism. jack lorimer's holidays; or, millvale high in camp. it would be well not to put this book into a boy's hands until the chores are finished, otherwise they might be neglected. jack lorimer's substitute; or, the acting captain of the team. on the sporting side, the book takes up football, wrestling, tobogganing. there is a good deal of fun in this book and plenty of action. jack lorimer, freshman; or, from millvale high to exmouth. jack and some friends he makes crowd innumerable happenings into an exciting freshman year at one of the leading eastern colleges. the book is typical of the american college boy's life, and there is a lively story, interwoven with feats on the gridiron, hockey, basketball and other clean, honest sports for which jack lorimer stands. * * * * * for sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers a. l. burt company, - east d street, new york. the camp fire girls series by hildegard g. frey. the only series of stories for camp fire girls endorsed by the officials of the camp fire girls organization. price, cents per volume * * * * * the camp fire girls in the maine woods; or, the winnebagos go camping. this lively camp fire group and their guardian go back to nature in a camp in the wilds of maine and pile up more adventures in one summer than they have had in all their previous vacations put together. before the summer is over they have transformed gladys, the frivolous boarding school girl, into a genuine winnebago. the camp fire girls at school: or, the wohelo weavers. it is the custom of the winnebagos to weave the events of their lives into symbolic bead bands, instead of keeping a diary. all commendatory doings are worked out in bright colors, but every time the law of of the camp fire to broken it must be recorded in black. how these seven live wire girls strive to infuse into their school life the spirit of work, health and love and yet manage to get into more than their share of mischief, is told in this story. the camp fire girls at onoway house; or, in the magic garden. migwan is determined to go to college, and not being strong enough to work indoors earns the money by raising fruits and vegetables. the winnebagos all turn a hand to help the cause along and the "goings-on" at onoway house that summer make the foundations shake with laughter. the camp fire girls go motoring; or, along the road that leads the way. the winnebagos take a thousand mile auto trip. the "pinching" of nyoda, the fire in the country inn, the runaway girl and the dead-earnest hare and hound chase combine to make these three weeks the most exciting the winnebagos have ever experienced. * * * * * for sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price by publishers a. l. burt company, - east d street, new york. * * * * * transcriber's notes: obvious punctuation errors repaired. page , "granford" changed to "cranford". (bugler for cranford) page , "geniue" changed to "genuine". (a genuine scout-master) page , "calikns" changed to "calkins". (medicine with dr. calkins) page , "sop" changed to "stop". (stop again, and) page , "examing" changed to "examining". (allan were examining) page , "omerga" changed to "omega". (word omega means) page , "week" changed to "weak". (of a weak mamma) page , "conneced" changed to "connected". (connected with a) page , "befel" changed to "befell". (that befell the) page , "bumus" changed three times to "bumpus". ("bumpus! bumpus, good boy! here supper for bumpus!") page , "allen" changed to "allan". (remarked allan, as they) page , "emormous" changed to "enormous". (with that enormous) page , "sterness" changed to "sternness". (sternness in his) page , "draging" changed to "dragging". (along and dragging) page , "owuld" changed to "would". (would some day) page , "allen" changed to "allan". (master?" asked allan) page , "freigner's" changed to "foreigner's". (foreigner's native country) page , "semed" changed to "seemed". (seemed tickled at) page , "arrnging" changed to "arranging". (arranging for the) page , "remarkd" changed to "remarked". (way," remarked the) page , "haversham" changed to "faversham". (get faversham the) page , "the" changed to "he". (for he found) page , "smihty" changed to "smithy". (let smithy know) page , "yeielded" changed to "yielded". (have soon yielded) page , "conforting" changed to "comforting". (that comforting cudgel) one instance of both game-keepers and gamekeepers was retained, as was makeup/make-up. the title and copyright pages both use camp fire, while the remainder of the book uses camp-fire. this was retained. the boy scouts on sturgeon island or marooned among the game-fish poachers by herbert carter chapter i out for a royal good time "will you do me a favor, bumpus?" "sure i will, giraffe; what is it you want now?" "then tell me who that is talking to our scoutmaster, dr. philander hobbs; because, you know, i've just come in after a scout ahead, and first thing saw was a stranger among the patrol boys." "oh! you mean that thin chap who came along in his buggy a bit ago, chasing after us all the way from that town where we had a bite of lunch? why, i understand he's the son of the telegraph operator there. you know we made arrangements with him to try and get a message to us, if one came along." "whew! then i hope he ain't fetched a message that'll spoil all our fun, just when we've got to the last leg of the journey, with the boat only a few miles further on! that'd be the limit bumpus. you don't know anything about it, i reckon?" "well, our scout-master looks kinder down in the mouth, and i'm afraid it must be some sort of a recall to duty for him," remarked a third lad, also wearing the khaki garments of a boy scout, as he joined the pair who were talking. "i'm afraid you're right, davy," said the tall, angular fellow who seemed to own the queer name of giraffe, though his long neck plainly proved why it had been given to him by his mates. "but don't it beat the dutch how many times doe hobbs has had to give up a jolly trip, and hurry back home, just when the fun was going to begin, because the old doctor he works with needed him the worst kind?" "but say," spoke up the fat boy who answered to the designation of bumpus, "mebbe the cranford troop, and the silver fox patrol in particular, ain't lucky to have such a wide-awake, efficient assistant scout-master as our thad brewster, who knows more in a day about out-of-door things than dr. hobbs would in a year." "yes, that's right," replied giraffe; "but we're going to know what's in the wind now, because here's the scout-master heading this way, with several of the other boys tagging at his heels, and sure as you live they're grinning too. looks to me like stephen and allan thought it a good joke, though they look solemn enough when doc turns their way. he's just got to leave us, you mark my words, fellows." it turned out that very way. an urgent message had come that necessitated the immediate return of the scout-master. the old doctor with whom he practiced had been unlucky enough to fall, and break a leg; so it was absolutely essential that his assistant come back to look after the sick people of cranford, hundreds of miles away. while the scout-master is getting his personal belongings together, and the six boys gathered around are trying to look terribly disappointed, it might be well to introduce the little party to such of our readers who have not had the pleasure of making their acquaintance in previous volumes of this series. the cranford troop of boy scouts now consisted of two full patrols, and a third was in process of forming. the original patrol was known as the silver fox, and the six scouts who were with doctor hobbs, away up here on the border of lake superior, bent on a cruise on the great fresh water sea, all belonged to that division of the troop, so that they are old friends to those who have perused any of the earlier books. thad brewster, whom bumpus had spoken of so highly, was a bright, energetic lad, who had always delighted in investigating things connected with outdoor life. he had belonged to a troop before organizing the one at cranford, and was well qualified for being made the assistant scoutmaster, having received his credentials from the new york headquarters long ago. allan hollister, who would assume the responsibility should thad be absent, was a boy who had spent quite a time in the adirondacks before joining the scouts, and his knowledge was along practical lines. then there was another fellow, rather a melancholy chap, who had a queer way of showing the whites of his eyes, and looking scared, at the least opportunity, only to make his chums laugh; for he would immediately afterwards grin--in school as a little fellow he had insisted that his name of stephen should be pronounced as though it consisted of two syllables; and from that day to this he had come to be known as step hen bingham. the other three boys were the ones who engaged in the little talk with which this story opens. bumpus really had another name, though few people ever thought to call him by it; yet in the register at school he was marked down as cornelius jasper hawtree; while the fellow who had that strange "rubber-neck" that he was so fond of stretching to its limit, was conrad stedman. davy jones, too, wag a remarkable character, as may be made evident before the last word is said in this story. he seemed to be as nimble as they make boys; and was forever doing what he called "stunts," daring any of his comrades to hang by their toes from the limb of a tree twenty feet from the ground; walking a tight-rope which he stretched across deep gully, and all sorts of other dangerous enterprises of that nature. often he was called "monkey," and no nick-name ever given by boy playmates fitted better than his. once davy had been a victim to fits, and on this account gained great consideration from his teachers at school, as well as from his comrades. but latterly there had arisen a suspicion that these "fits" that doubled him up so suddenly always seemed to come just when there was some hard work to be done; and once the suspicion that davy was shamming broke in upon the rest, they shamed him into declaring himself radically cured. it was either that, or take a ducking every time he felt one of those spells coming on; so davy always declared the camp air had effected a miracle in his case, and that he owed a great deal to his having joined the scouts. "too bad, boys," said dr. hobbs, who was a mighty fine young man, and well liked by all the scouts in cranford troop, although they saw so little of him because his pressing duties called him away so often; "but i've got to go home on the first train. doctor green has a broken leg, and there's nobody to make the rounds among our sick people in cranford. i never was more disappointed in my life, because we've fixed things for a glorious cruise up here on old superior." the boys assured him that they deeply sympathized with him, because they knew it would break their hearts to be deprived of their outing, now that they had come so far. "fortunately," continued dr. hobbs, with a twinkle in his kindly eyes, "that isn't at all necessary; because all arrangements have been made, the boat is waiting only a few miles away, and you have an efficient assistant scout-master in this fine chap here, thad brewster, who will take charge while i'm away, as he has done on numerous other sad occasions." "hurrah!" burst from bumpus; "that's the kind of stuff we like to hear. not that we won't miss you, doctor, because you know boys from the ground up, and we all feel like you're an older brother to us; but we've been out with thad so much, we're kinder used to his ways." "well," continued the scout-master, with a long sigh, "i've got to hurry off if i expect to catch that afternoon train, and there's no other until morning; so good-bye, boys. take good care of yourselves, and write to me as often as you can. i'll try and picture the jolly happenings of this lake superior cruise as i read your accounts of it." he squeezed the hand of every one of the six lively lads; and there was a huskiness in his voice as he bade them a last good-bye that told better than words how sorry he was to leave the merry bunch, just when they were almost, as bumpus put it, "in sight of the promised water." so the vehicle passed from sight, and the last they saw of doctor hobbs was a hand waving his campaign hat to them just before a bend in the country road was reached. all of them now turned to thad to see what his plan of campaign would be. "if it's just this way, fellows," he remarked, with one of his smiles that had made him the most popular boy in all cranford, barring none; "we've got about three miles to hit it up before we reach the lake shore. then we'll make camp and spend another night, which i hope will be our last ashore for some little time. because, unless there's a hitch to the program, we ought to come on the landing where our boat is going to be in waiting, by ten o'clock to-morrow." "hurrah!" cried bumpus, who was already weary of "hiking" because his build made him less active than some of the other scouts, notably davy and giraffe. "let's get a move on, then," suggested step hen. "i can see that poor old giraffe here is nearly perishing for a little bite of supper." a rippling laugh ran around at this, for every one knew the failing of the long-legged scout, whose stowage capacity when it came time to eat had never as yet within the memory of any comrade been fully tested; for they always declared that his legs must be hollow, for otherwise it was a mystery where all the food he devoured went to, since he never seemed to get any stouter after a meal than he was before. the march was accordingly resumed, with tad and allan leading the van. the boys were going light, because they did not intend to do much camping on this trip, as it was expected that the boat would accommodate all of them with sleeping quarters. each one had a blanket strapped to his back, and with this were a few necessities in the line cooking utensils and food. most of their luggage had been sent on by another route, as had also their supplies. doctor hobbs had wished them to go to the landing where their boat was to meet them, by following this roundabout course, having had some reason of his own for visiting the country. his folks in cranford owned considerable land in this vicinity, and it was said that there were out-croppings of valuable copper to be found upon it; which accounted for the young man's desire to make inquiries while up in this region. joking and laughing, and even singing snatches of school songs, the boys of the silver fox patrol tramped along the road that was to bring them to the shore of the lake by and by. it was about half-past four when they obtained their first glimpse of the apparently boundless body of water, said to be the largest fresh water sea in the whole world. shortly afterwards they reached the shore and were looking almost in awe out upon the vast expanse of water, upon the bosom of which they anticipated making their home for some weeks during vacation time. "here's the finest camp site you ever struck in your born days, fellers!" called out giraffe, as he waved his arm around at the trees that grew close to the edge of the inland sea; and every one of the other five scouts agreed with him. they had made many camps in the last two years, for they had wandered far from the home town, down in tennessee, up in maine, and away out to the rockies on one memorable occasion; but no better place to spend a night had ever greeted their eyes. it was soon a bustling scene, with a fire being started, and arrangements made to build a sort of lean-to shelter that would even shed rain in a pinch should a storm come upon them during the night they expected to spend here. davy, as usual, was climbing trees, and spying into every hole he could find. when monkey jones had a chance to exercise his peculiar gifts like this present opportunity afforded him it was utterly out of the question to hold him in. and so he swung daringly from one limb to another, just for all the world like a squirrel, chattering at times in a way that giraffe always declared left no doubt in his mind concerning davy's having descended from the original tree-climbing tribe that sported tails. there was one very large tree close by, that is, large considering that in this section there were few that could boast a girth of more than a foot; but this one was really what bumpus called a "whopper;" and davy sported among the higher branches with all the delight of a child with a new toy; giving the others more than one thrill as he swooped this way and that with reckless abandon. but suddenly he sent out a shout that caused every fellow to take notice; and bumpus actually turned pale with apprehension, as he vainly looked around for some sort of weapon with which to defend himself; because he always believed he must be a shining mark for any hungry wild beast, on account of his plumpness. "oh!" shouted the boy in the tree, "a panther, fellers, a really true panther!" chapter ii thad goes after the yellow eyes "he says a panther is up there!" echoed giraffe, stretching that long neck of his at a fearful rate, in the endeavor to locate the animal in question. all of them became immediately intensely interested in the further doings of davy jones. the boy chanced to be in a position where he could not apparently pass down the trunk of the tree, for fear lest he come in contact with the sharp claws of the dreaded beast which he claimed was hiding up there somewhere; but then that was a small matter to one so active as the jones boy. he immediately started to fearlessly slide down the outside of the tree, making use of the branches as he came along, to stay his program when it threatened to become too rapid. the sight of davy spinning down from that height with such perfect abandon, was one none of those fellows would ever forget. when he finally landed on the ground they gathered around him with some misgivings, for davy was addicted to practical jokes, and some of his chums suspected that even now he was, as step hen suggested, "putting up a job on his unsuspecting comrades." one look at his really white face told them that at least davy's fright had been genuine. he may not have seen a truly savage panther up there in the tree, but he firmly believed he did. "where was it, davy?" demanded giraffe, who had hastened to snatch up the camp hatchet in lieu of any better weapon with which to defend himself. "did it try to grab you?" asked bumpus, with a tremor in his voice that he tried in vain to conceal by a great show of assumed bluster. "and was there only one up there?" queried step hen, anxiously, fingering the double-barreled marlin shotgun, which was the only firearm they had with them, as this expedition had not been organized with any idea of hunting; and the season for game was not on as yet, either, even in this northern country; though giraffe, who owned the gun, had fetched it in the hope that they might be forgiven if they knocked over a few wild ducks, should their rations run low. "i didn't wait to ask," stammered davy, "fact is, boys, i didn't really see the terrible beast at all, only his big yellow eyes!" "oh! is that so, davy?" exclaimed thad, turning to give allan a wink, as much as to let him understand that the truth would soon be coming now. "but see here," step hen wanted to know; "however was you agoin' to see his eyes and not glimpse the panther himself; that's a thing you've got to explain, davy jones." the other bent a look of commiseration on the speaker. "what's the answer to that?" he went on to say, recovering his voice more and more with each passing second, now that his personal safety seemed assured; "i'll tell you, step hen. you see, there's a big yawning gap in the tree up there, as black inside as your hat after night. and when i just happened to look that way what did i see but a pair of round yellow eyes astaring straight at me! guess i've seen a panther, and i ought to know how his eyes look in the dark--just like you've seen the old cat alooking at you to home, when you went into a dark room. wow! say, did you notice me acoming down that tree outside like greased lightning? i own up i expected i'd be pounced on any second, and that made me in something like a hurry, fellows!" one or two of the scouts snickered at this. the sound appeared to annoy davy, who was plainly very much in earnest. "huh! easy to laugh, you fellows," he remark, with deep satire in his voice. "mebbe, now, you, don't believe what i'm telling you! mebbe one of you'd like to just climb up there, and see for yourself what it is? i dare you, bumpus!" "you'll have to excuse me, davy; it's too big a job for a boy built like me, you understand, though sure i'd like to accommodate first rate," replied the scout with the red hair and mild blue eyes, shrinking back, and shrugging his shoulders. "then how about you, step hen," pursued davy, determined to put it to each of the scoffers in turn until he had shown them up in good style; "i notice that you're looking like you didn't reckon there couldn't abeen such a thing as a genuine panther around this region in the last twenty years and more. suppose you tumble up there, and take a look-in!" but the party indicated smiled sweetly, and laid his hand on the region of his stomach, as he went on to say: "why, really and truly, davy, i think i'm going to have one of those nasty cramps just like you used to have so often. there's agripe coming on right now, and you see how unpleasant it would be to find myself doubled-up while i was thirty feet from the ground. i'm afraid i'll have to pass this time." "then, there's giraffe who'll he sure to volunteer," continued the other, bound to take all the scoffers in by turns. "he's of an investigating turn of mind, and if he wants to, i reckon he might take that gun along, so he could have some show, if the thing jumped right out in his face!" "well, now," the long-legged scout answered, with a whimsical grin, "i'd like to accommodate you the worst kind, davy, but you know how it is with me. i ain't worth a cooky before i've had my feed. feel sorter weak about the knees, to tell you the honest truth; and i never was as keen about climbing to the top of tall trees as you were, davy. count me out, please, that's a good fellow." at that davy laughed outright. "i see you've got cold feet in the bargain, giraffe," he asserted. "well, then, if anybody's going to climb up there and poke that ugly old beast out of his den it'll have to be either our scout-master, or allen; for i tell you right now you don't catch me monkeying with a buzz-saw after i've had my fingers zipped." "i'll go," said thad, quietly. "here, take this, thad," urged step hen, trying to force the shotgun into the hands of the other, as he stepped toward the base of the big tree. thad and allan again exchanged looks. "don't think i'll need it, do you, allan?" the former asked. "hardly," came the reply; "and even if you did carry it up, the chances are you couldn't find a way to hold on, and shoot at the same time. here, let me take that thing, step hen; you're that nervous. if anything did happen to fluster you, i honestly believe you'd up and bang away, and perhaps fill our chum with bird-shot in the bargain." step hen disavowed any such weakness, but nevertheless he was apparently glad to hand over the weapon; because he realized that allan knew much better how to use firearms than he did, and if there was any occasion for shooting, the responsibility would be off his shoulders; for step hen never liked to find himself placed where he was in the limelight and had to make good, or be disgraced. thad did not appear to be at all worried, as he took a last good look aloft, as though wishing to assure himself that there was no panther in sight among the thick branches above, before he trusted himself up there. his good common sense told him that the chances were as ten to one that davy had not seen what he claimed at all; but his fears had worked overtime, and simply magnified some trifling thing. of course had thad really believed there was any chance of meeting such a savage beast as a panther he would never have ventured w make that climb; or if he did he must have surely taken the gun along with him. the others gathered around near the foot of the tree, and tried to follow the daring climber with their eyes, meanwhile exchanging more or less humorous remarks in connection with his mission. all of them, saving possibly allan, seemed to be a little nervous concerning the outcome; because davy kept on asserting his positive belief that it was a real true panther that lay in the aperture above, and not a make-believe. "i only hope thad can dodge right smart if the old thing does come whooping out at him!" was the way davy put it; at which the eyes of bumpus grew rounder and rounder, and he began to quietly edge away from under the tree, an inch at a time; for he hoped none of his chums would notice his timidity, because bumpus was proud of having done certain things in the line of bagging big game, on the occasion of their trip to the far west. "there," remarked step hen, "he's getting up pretty far now, and i reckon must be close by the place where you saw your old panther, davy." "yes," added giraffe, "and you notice that thad's marking time, so to speak, for he's hanging out there, and trying to see what's above him." "a scout should always use a certain amount of caution," interposed allan; "there are times when a fellow might take chances, if it's a case of necessity, and quick action is necessary in order to save life; but right now thad's only carrying out the rule he's always laid down for the rest of us. "be prepared, you know, is the slogan of every scout, and that's what he's doing. he wants to be sure of his ground before he jumps." "hub!" grunted davy, "if i'd stopped to count ten before i slid down, i wonder now what would have happened to me. some fellers act from impulse every time, and you can't change the spots of the leopard, they say. what's dyed in the wool can't be washed out, as took as bumpus here with his carroty hair." "you leave my hair alone, davy jones, and pay attention to your own business," complained the stout scout, aggressively. "you just know you're a going to get it when thad makes his report, and you're trying to draw attention somewhere else. make me think of what i read about the pearl divers when they see an old hungry man-eating shark waiting above 'em; they stir up the sand with the sharp-pointed stick they carry; and when the water gets foggy they swim away without the fish being able to see 'em. and you're atrying right now to befog the real case, which is, did you really see anything, or get scared at your own shadow." "hear! hear!" crowed giraffe, who always liked to see bumpus aroused, and when this occurred he often made out to back him up with approval, just as some boys would sick one dog on another, or tempt rival roosters to come to a "scrap." "you fellow's let up, and watch what thad's agoin' to do," step hen advised them at that juncture; and so for the time being davy and bumpus forgot their complaint and riveted their eyes on the boy who was up in the tree. "i can't hardly see him any more, the branches are so thick," complained bumpus ducking his head this way and that. "that's because he's gone on again," argued giraffe; "seems like he didn't find any signs of a real panther when he took that survey." "hold your horses!" was all davy allowed himself to say, though no doubt he himself had commenced to have serious doubts by now. half a minute later and there broke out a series of strange sounds from up above their heads. "listen to that, now, would you?" cried davy, bristling with importance again. "don't that sound like thad might a hit up against something big? hear him talking, will you? didn't you catch what he said right then--no, you don't grab me, you rascal; i'm afraid i'll have to knock you on the head yet! say, don't that sound like thad had found my panther, and was keeping him off with that club he took up with him. oh! what's that?" something came crashing down as davy uttered this last exclamation. the boys were horrified at, first, because they imagined it might bit thad and the panther, that, meeting in midair, had lost their grip, and were falling to the ground, fully forty feet below. "why, it's only his club," cried giraffe, quickly. "then he must have let it get knocked out of his hand!" ejaculated bumpus. "oh! poor thad. he'll be in a bad fix without a single thing to fight that animal with!" "that's where you're mistaken, because i can see him now, and he's acoming down the tree right smart!" step hen announced; which intelligence allowed bumpus to breathe freely again, for his face was getting fiery red with the suspense that had gripped him. "that's so!" echoed giraffe, "and i'm looking to see if there's any signs of a big cat trailing after him, but so far nothing ain't come in sight." the five scouts on the ground hastened to close in around the foot of the big tree, so as to welcome their patrol leader when he dropped from the lower limb. "seems to me thad acts kind of clumsy, for him," announced step hen; "now, if it'd been bumpus here i could understand it, because, well i won't say what i was agoing to, because it might make hard feelings between us; and with all his shortcomings bumpus is a good sort of a chap." "huh! dassent, that's what!" grunted the party indicated, making a threatening gesture in the direction of his fellow-scout. the arrival of the scout-master caused them to forget all other things. thad, as soon as he found his feet fixed on solid ground once more, strode straight up until he faced davy jones, and suddenly called out: "there's your panther, davy!" there was a craning of necks, a gasping of breaths, and then a series of yells broke forth that made the nearby woods fairly ring with the echoes. chapter iii the camp on the lake shore "why, it's only a big owl!" shouted giraffe. "hey, davy, shake hands with your yellow-eyed panther!" roared step hen. bumpus snatched up his bugle, for he held that office in the cranford troop, and let out a piercing series of blasts that would have undoubtedly frightened any wild animal, had there been such within a mile of the camp on the lake shore. it was a large owl that thad grasped in such fashion that the bird could not reach him with its curved beak, though it made several vicious lunges, as though anxious to fight the whole patrol at once. he had kept it hidden under his coat when descending the tree, and now gripped it firmly by its two splendidly colored wings. "well, it did have yellow eyes, all right," complained the dejected davy; "and as it stuck there in that black hole, how was i to know it was only a harmless old owl, a hooter at that?" "if you think he's harmless just try and lay a finger on him," said thad. "why, he'd snap you like lightning; once let that beak strike, and you'd lose a piece of skin as big as a half dollar. he's a savage bird, let me warn you." "oh! say, can't we, keep him for a pet?" ejaculated bumpus, who could hardly take his eyes off the bird, for its plumage was certainly beautiful, being a combination of creamy yellows and nut browns, while two bunches stuck up like horns from the region of his ears. "i've got a nice little chain we might put around one of his legs, and what fun we'd have with the thing while we were afloat on the raging lake," step hen went on to say. "allan, get on that thick pair of gloves we brought, and see if you could fasten the chain to his leg. it would be worth while to have some sort of pet along with us; because bumpus has kicked over the traces long ago, and won't let us make a baby out of him any more," thad went on to remark. when he had protected his hands in this way, allan had little difficulty in adjusting the slender but strong steel chain which step hen had brought with him, intending to use in case he managed to capture a raccoon, or some other small beast, for he was especially found of pets. when they had fastened the other end of the chain to something, the owl sat on the limb of a tree, and gazed at them with blinking eyes. there was still enough of daylight, with all that glow in the western heavens to interfere with his sight more or less, and he simply ruffled up his feathers in high dudgeon, and kept trying to pick at the chain that held his leg. "now, that's what i call a pretty good start," argued step hen, as he stood in front of the chained owl, and admired his plumage; "perhaps later on i might happen to land a 'coon or a mink, who knows. i've always believed that i'd like to have a pet mink, though somebody told me they couldn't be tamed." "yes," went on giraffe scornfully, "if you had your way the whole boat'd be a floating menagerie, you've got such a liking for pets. the mink would soon be joined by a 'possum; then would come a pair of muskrats; after which we'd expect to find a fox under our feet every time we stepped; a wolverine growling like fun at us when we made the least move; a squirrel climbing all over us; a heron perched on the garboard streak, whatever that might be; and mebbe a baby bear rolling on the deck. all them things are possible, once step hen gets started on his collecting stunt." "well, forget it now, won't you, giraffe, because there goes bumpus putting supper on the fire; and unless you look sharp he'll just cut down your ration till you'll only get as much as any two of us," advised step hen. in spite of all these little encounters of wit, and the sharp things that were sometimes said, boy fashion, these six churns were as fond of each other as any lads could possibly be. there was hardly anything they would not have done for one another, given the opportunity; and this had been proved many times in the past. while they were fond of joking the tall scout on his appetite, truth to tell every one of the others could display a pretty good stowage capacity when it came to disposing of the meals. and so they were all anxious to help bumpus when he started getting the camp supper ready. besides these six lads there were of course two others who went to, make up the full complement; of the silver fox patrol; and who have figured in previous stories of this series. these boys were named robert quail white, who was southern born, and went by the name of "bob white," among his friends; and edmund maurice travers smith, conveniently shortened to plain "smithy." these two had taken a different route to the lake, and expected to meet their six churns at a given rendezvous. they were intending also to make use of another boat, since the one engaged for the party would only accommodate seven at a pinch, and counting the scout-master they would have numbered nine individuals in all. the other two had found that they wanted to see the wonderful soo canal, and the rapids that the st. mary river boasts at that point, where the pent-up waters of superior rush through the st. mary's river to help swell the other great lakes, and eventually pass through the st. lawrence river to the sea. it is no joke cooking for half a dozen hungry scouts, and the one whose duty compelled him to be the chef for a day had to count on filling the capacity of coffee-pot and frying-pans, of which latter there were two. evening had settled down upon them by the time they were ready to enjoy the supper of boston baked beans, fried onions with the steak that had been procured at the last town they had passed through; crackers, some bread that one of them toasted to a beautiful brown color alongside the fire, and almost scorched his face in the bargain; and the whole flanked by the coffee which was "like ambrosia," their absent chum smithy would have said, until they dashed some of the contents of the evaporated cream into each tin cup, along with lumps of sugar. "this is what i call living," sighed giraffe, as he craned his neck visibly in the endeavor to see, whether there was a third "helping" left in the pan for "manners," which was another name for conrad stedman. "hadn't we better save this piece of steak for tim?" suggested step hen, wickedly, for that was the name he had given to the captive owl. "no, you don't," objected giraffe, vociferously, just as the other had known he would do; "that's the very last beef steak we're apt to see for half a moon; and i say it would be a shame to waste it on a heathen bird. besides, you couldn't coax jim to take a bite till he's nearly starved; ain't that so, thad?" they always appealed to either the assistant scout-master or allan, whenever any question like this came up, connected with bird or animal lore; and no matter how puzzling the matter might seem to the one who asked, it was promptly answered in nearly every instance. "yes, he isn't likely to take hold for a day or two," replied thad. "by that time the old fellow will sort of get used to seeing us about; and he won't refuse to eat when you put something out for him; only all of you be careful that he doesn't prefer a piece out of your hand. don't trust him ever!" "you can make up your mind i won't give him a chance to grab me," asserted bumpus, never dreaming that by accident he would be the very first to feel the force of that curved beak. "listen!" exclaimed step hen; "as sure as anything there's another! why, this must be what you might call owl-land." from far away in the timber came the plain sound of hooting. all of the scouts knew what it was easily enough, though there had been a time when they were real tenderfeet, and could hardly distinguish between the call of an owl and the braying of a donkey; but camping-out experience had done away with all such ignorance as that. "there, don't that make you feel foolish, step hen?" demanded bumpus. "me? whatever put that silly notion into your head, bumpus?" "why," the other went on to say reproachfully, "it was you that really wanted to keep the poor old bird; and just listen to its mate mourning for it, would you? i'd think you'd feel so sorry you'd want to unfasten that chain right away, and give the owl its freedom." "not for joseph, though i'll let you go and undo his chain if you feel inclined that way," step hen observed, knowing full well that bumpus did not want to see the feathered captive set free quite that bad. "besides, how d'ye know that's a mate to my bird whooping it up back there?" "well, if you want to find out, just you sleep with one eye open," bumpus told him; "and take it from me you'll see that other owl come winnowing around here, wanting to know why our new pet don't come when she calls." "huh! mebbe i will,"' was all step hen would say about it; but evidently the idea had appealed to him; and there was a chance that he would indulge in very little rest that night, for trying to "keep one eye open while he slept." after supper was all over, and the boys lay around on their blankets, they fell to talking of other days when they had been in company, and met with a great many, surprising adventures. then bumpus, who really had a very fine tenor voice, which he could strain so as to sing soprano like a bird, was coaxed to favor them with a number of selections, the others coming in heavy in each chorus. sometimes it was a popular ballad of the day that bumpus gave them; but more often a school chorus, or it might be some tender scotch song like "comin' through the rye," "annie laurie," or "twickenham ferry;" for boys can appreciate such sentiments more than most folks believe; and especially when in an open air camp, with the breeze sighing through the trees around them, or the waves murmuring as they wash the sandy shore of a lake, and the moonlight throwing a magical spell upon all their surroundings; for there is the seed of romance in the heart of nearly every healthy lad. so the evening wore on until some of them began to yawn frequently, showing that they were ready to turn in. as one of them had said, this might be the last time they would camp ashore during trip, because on the morrow they anticipated, unless something unforeseen came up to prevent it, going aboard their boat, and starting on the cruise upon the big waters of superior. they had no tent on this occasion, but really that was not going to prove any hardship to these bold lads, accustomed to spending many a night in the woods, with only a blanket for a cover against the dew and frost. it was arranged to keep the fire going. this would serve in a double capacity, for not only would they be kept warm through the cold part of the night, but if there did happen to be any wild beasts around in that section of the lake superior country, which both allan and thad rather doubted, why, the glow of the blaze was apt to make them keep their distance. the last thing giraffe remembered, as his heavy eyes persisted in closing, was seeing step hen bob up his head to stare over toward the low branch upon which the captive owl was fastened; as though he might have arranged a program with himself and meant to do this thing at stated intervals all through the night. giraffe chuckled at the idea of sacrificing good sleep in the interest of knowledge; he was willing to simply ask some one who knew, and be satisfied to accept their answer as conclusive. an hour later and the camp seemed to be all quiet, for every one was apparently sound asleep. even thad and allan had known of no reason why a watch should be maintained, for they felt sure there could hardly be a human being within miles of the camp; and even if this were not so, the chances were strongly in favor of its proving to be an honest farmer, or some miner on his way to the workings further west. the only sounds that could have been heard from time to time were an occasional peevish fretful croak from the captive owl, as it continued to peck savagely at the chain around its leg; or it might be a snore from bumpus, or some other fellow who had a fashion of lying squarely on his back. perhaps pretty soon, when one of the scouts had been kept awake by this noise until patience ceased to be a virtue, he would get quietly up, and pour a tin-cup of lake water over the one who persisted in sleeping with his mouth wide open; for that sort of radical remedy had proven effective on other occasions, and brought relief. it must have been almost midnight when a sudden change came about that took even the seasoned campers by surprise, for they had not been anticipating any such startling event. the stillness was broken by a piercing scream that caused every head to bob up, and the blankets to be hurriedly thrown aside. "my owl's mate has come in on us, mebbe!" exclaimed step hen; for that idea was so firmly lodged in his brain that it had to occur to him as soon as he heard all that row. but some of the others were wiser, for they knew that shout had surely come from human lips. giraffe was the first to call out and draw their attention to certain facts. "looky there at old bumpus dancing a jig, will you! whatever ails the feller, d'ye think! acts like he'd clean gone out of his head, and got loony!" he cried, as with the other boys he came tumbling out from under the rude shelter made of branches. chapter iv launched on the inland sea sure enough bumpus was in plain sight, for the fire still burned, and there was also a bright moon high up in the heavens. the fat scout seemed to be trying to execute all the steps in a southern hoedown, or an irish jig; for he was prancing around this way and that, holding on to his hand, which the other boys now discovered was streaked with blood! "oh! what's happened to you, bumpus?" cried step hen, as he ran out toward the spot where the other continued to waltz around in his bright red and white striped pajamas, that made him look like an "animated sawed-off barber's pole," as one of his chums had once told him. "it bit me, oh! i'll bleed to death, i reckon now!" wailed the other; "say, thad, get out some of that purple stuff you use for scratches from wild animals. mebbe blood, poisoning'll develop; and i'd just hate the worst kind to die up here, away off from my own home." "what bit you; can't you tell us, bumpus?" asked thad, though already he may have had suspicions that way. "jim did, the bally old owl!" came the dismal answer; "please, oh! please tell me whether his beak is poisonous, won't you, thad?" "well, what d'ye think of that?" ejaculated step hen, "however did you happen to meddle with my owl, tell me? sure, i did give you permission to unchain him, if you had the nerve; but i never did believe you'd go and take me up at that." "i didn't neither," bumpus declared, still dancing around. "here, let me see that wound!" called out thad, as he and allan cornered the sufferer; "all it may need is washing, and then binding up with some healing salve. but it makes a nasty cut, don't it, allan?" "i should say yes," replied the other; "but it's some lucky it wasn't his face the bird struck at. why, bumpus might have lost an eye." at that possibility the fat scout set up another roar. "just you believe the old thing meant to snap my eye out when he bit at me; and i must have happened to put out my hand--so he struck that!" he declared; while allan hastened to open a package and take out some salve and tape such as scouts should always carry along with them when in camp, because there is no telling when it may be needed badly, just as in the present instance. "but see here, what possessed you to walk around in this way, and go over to try and pet that savage bird?" asked thad. "give you my solemn affidavit that i don't know a single thing about it!" the other went on to say, as solemn as the owl that sat on the branch near by. "do you mean you don't remember getting up, and coming out here?" continued the scout-master, who always probed things to the very dregs, or until he had extracted all the information possible. "not a thing," reaffirmed bumpus, and his face showed that he was speaking only the truth. "i can remember laying down for a snooze, and then everything seems to be blank after that, till all of a sudden i felt that awful pain, and it made me let out a whoop, i'm telling you." "i should think it did," muttered giraffe; "ten injuns rolled into one couldn't beat that howl. i sure thought the panther had got you that time!" "well, likely i thought just that same thing, giraffe, when i warbled that way, because i remember now i was dreaming about gray-coated panthers. then i thought about rattlesnakes too, because you know i can't stand for the crawlers. next thing i opened my eyes with a jump, and saw that old owl, with every feather on his back standing up like the quills of a porcupine, and trying to jab me a second time." thad and allan, who had now returned in time to hear this last exchanged looks. "a clear case of sleep walking, seems like!" ventured the former. "oh! my goodness gracious! i thought i was over them tricks years ago!" exclaimed bumpus, shivering. "if they're agoing to take me again i see my finish; because some night i'll walk off a precipice, and that'll be the end of me." "we'll like as not have to tie you by the leg every night, just like jim is now; and that'll stop you prancing around loose, trying to set my pets free in your sleep," step hen went on to say, reassuringly; but somehow bumpus did not seem to take to the idea the least bit. "you let me alone, that's all, step hen bingham," he told the other, "and i'll fix my own business. that's what comes of you keeping the silly old owl. serve you about right if his mate dropped in and bit the end of your big toe off to pay you up for fastening that chain on the poor thing's leg." "say, i like that, now; when you were the very first one to ask if we couldn't keep that same owl!" step hen told him. "wow! that hurts some, let me tell you, fellows!" groaned the fat scout, when allan was putting some salve, calculated to help heal the wound, on the torn place, and then with the assistance of the scout-master started binding the hand up with windings of soft linen that came in a tape roll two inches wide. "but let me tell you it's some chilly out here, with only pajamas on," objected giraffe; "and for one i'm going to skip back under my blanket, where i can snuggle down. somebody remember to throw a little wood on the fire, please. let davy do it." of course that really meant either the scoutmaster or allan; and giraffe often had a failing for shirking some duty like this. it was so easy to expect some other to do disagreeable things; though as a rule the boys were accustomed to saying, "let davy do it," until it had become so tiresome that the jones boy had rebelled, and refused to be the errand boy any longer for the entire patrol. in half ah hour silence again brooded over the camp. bumpus must have done something to make sure he did not start walking in his sleep again, for nothing occurred to disturb their slumbers until dawn came along and, with birds singing, as well as gray squirrels barking lustily at the intruders, awakened them all. breakfast was hurried, because all of them were' anxious to be on the move. they knew that by following the shore of the big water several miles they would come to the point where there was a village, with something of a landing place in a sheltered nook; and here they expected to find their boat awaiting them. it was about an hour after sun-up that the cheery notes of bumpus' silver-toned bugle gave the signal for the start; and the six khaki-clad lads could be seen moving at a fairly fast pace along the shore of the lake. step hen had managed to bundle the captive owl in a spare sweater, so he could carry him all right without danger. the little waves came purling up close to their feet, and seemed to welcome the strangers to their domain; but thad knew full well that under different conditions these same waves would unite to threaten them with destruction. step hen having found a way to muzzle the owl, so that he could carry the prisoner, without fear of dire attacks from that sharp beak seemed more determined than ever to try and keep jim; and he frowned every time he saw bumpus observing the bird thoughtfully, because he imagined the fat scout might be hatching up a scheme for choking the thick-necked prisoner, in revenge for what he had suffered from its savage thrust. finally a loud shout was heard from giraffe, who, being so much taller than the balance of the scouts, and possessed of a neck he could stretch to an alarming degree, was in a position to see much further than the rest. "the village is in sight!" he announced, whereat there was a cheer, the owl commenced to struggle afresh, and step hen had his hands full trying to quiet his feathered prisoner. with their goal now close at hand the boys were able to step out at a more lively pace, even bumpus showing surprising gains. about ten o'clock they arrived at the settlement where they had seen some sort of dock, at which a couple of ore barges of the whaleback type were being loaded. already the eager eyes of the boys had discovered a boat that answered the description of the one they expected to find awaiting them. making straight for the place they found that they had guessed rightly. that good sized powerboat was the chippeway belle, the vessel which was to be their home for the next two weeks or more, as they pleased. an investigation revealed the fact that their stores were all aboard, as well as their extra supplies that went under the general designation of "duffel." "nothing else for us to do but go aboard, and make a bully start, is there, thad?" asked the impatient giraffe, eager to find out how the craft could go; for up to now the silver fox patrol had generally spent their outings on dry land; and this idea of a cruise had come somewhat in the shape of what thad called an "innovation." "nothing at all, giraffe," replied the other, himself looking pleased at the prospect of being about to start on such a splendid pleasure trip. "how about paying for the use of the boat; has all that been attended to?" asked careful bumpus, who was not so very much of a water-dog himself, and rather viewed the prospect of getting out of sight of land on board so small a craft with anything but exultant delight; indeed, to tell the honest truth, the fat scout was already secretly sorry he had come. "oh! yes," replied thad, quickly; "dr. hobbs attended to all that for us; fact is, this boat is owned by a friend of his, which was how we got it as cheap as we did. and more than that, the gentleman attended to packing all our supplies at the soo, and sent the boat here on a steamer, so we could start from this place. it was dr. philander's idea, you know, this coming through the copper region along the south shore of the eke. and now, if you're all of the same mind, let's get started." "hurrah; hoist the pennant of the silver fox patrol that your sister polly made us, giraffe, and every fellow dip his hat to the colors of the gay chippeway belle!" and in answer to this request on the part of davy jones they did salute the raising of the neat little burgee that had a silver fox fashioned in silken hand-work upon it. thad examined the engine carefully. he knew considerable about such things, and yet he fancied, he might have more or less trouble with the motive power of this lake superior boat; for it was of rather an ancient pattern, and had evidently seen its best days. between them thad and allan confessed this much, but they did not think it good policy to say anything to the others, though anxious bumpus watched their conference uneasily, and could be seen to carefully pick out a spot on the rail where he perched, and seemed inclined to stay--it was handy to a quick getaway in case the worst happened, and the engine blew up, as he whispered to himself. after he had, as he believed, mastered the rudiments of the working of the motor thad told them to cast off, and they would make a start. several men stood around to watch them get away, among them the party in whose charge the boat had been left, and who had only delivered it up after thad had produced an order for the same, and paid certain expenses for storage and watching. "were moving at last!" called step hen excitedly, as the machinery started to go with a rush, after thad had cranked the engine. allan stood by the wheel, and as the prow of the boat gurgled through the clear waters of the great lake, every scout was thrilled with the vast possibilities that faced them, now that their cruise had begun. "this means that we'll eat our first meal aboard at noon to-day," remarked giraffe who seemed determined that no regular feeding time might be neglected, if he could help it. "you ought to be a happy fellow, giraffe," remarked davy jones, "after taking a look over the piles of grub we've got aboard. why, do you know there's a whole big ham, two slabs of bacon, and all sorts of good things. no danger of any of us going hungry on this excursion; unless the old tub should happen to sink, and leave us marooned on some rocky island." "oh! see here, stop joking about that sort of thing, davy," remonstrated bumpus, shivering as though he felt a cold draught; "i know right well that if such a horrible thing ever did happen to us, the rest of you'd make up your minds to begin on me the first thing." "well, that's the penalty you have to pay, bum, pus, for being so tempting," chuckled step hen; "now, who'd ever think of picking giraffe out for a dainty meal; why he's as skinny as an old crow." "there are times when it pays right well to be thin," remarked the scout held up to derision, "and that'd be one of 'em, i reckon." they were by now far away from the ore dock, and the barges that were loading; indeed it was only with an effort they could see either, for a haze had crept over the surface of the lake. the chippeway belle had been going along at quite a fair pace, thought making more noise than was agreeable to either thad or allan, when all at once, without the least warning there was heard a loud report. instantly the sound of the engine ceased. "she's broke down, and we're wrecked already!" yelled giraffe, excitedly. "oh! mercy! and she may explode at any second now!" cried poor bumpus; after which, in sheer desperation he jumped deliberately overboard, clinging to the side of the swaying craft, and in momentary expectation of hearing a fearful crash, as the gasoline tank went up. chapter v the rescue "tell us what to do, thad, and count on us to follow you!" called out giraffe, rising manfully to the occasion; though to tell the honest truth he looked pretty "white around the gills," as step hen remarked later on, when they all found time to compare experiences. "just stick to your seats, and don't bother!" was the quick reply thad sent back. "then there ain't any danger?" demanded davy, drawing the only decent breath he had dared indulge in since that first alarm. "not a bit!" called allan, cheerily. "and we ain't goin' to have to swim for it then?" step hen went on. "not unless you feel like taking a bath," replied thad asked. "but what happened to our engine?" asked davy. "and will we have to pole, or row, the rest of the trip?" proceeded giraffe. "i see our finish if that comes around so early in the cruise. wow! me to hike through the woods afoot, when it hits a fellow as hard as this." "me too!" sighed step hen. "oh! don't get excited, boys," remarked thad, with a broad smile; "no danger of anything like that happening to us just yet. i was half expecting something along these lines to happen; and now that it has, we'll fix that part for keeps. it won't come around again, i promise you that." "which isn't saying something else won't," grumbled giraffe. "the blame old tub is just about ready to go to pieces on us, the first chance she gets; and that's what i think." "not so bad as that, giraffe," remonstrated thad. "this engine has been a great one in its day." "yes, but that day was about away, back in the time of stephenson," continued the tall scout, who, once he began to complain, could only be shut off with the greatest difficulty. everybody seemed to laugh at that, it was so ridiculous; but as thad was already busily engaged in examining the engine their spirits seemed to rise a little. "hey! ain't anybody agoin' to help me in?" piped up a small voice just then, accompanied by a splashing sound. the boys exchanged looks, and then followed nods, as though like a flash they saw the chance to play something of a joke on the comrade who was thus appealing for aid. "hello! where's the other fellow?" exclaimed allan, as though he had counted noses, and found one missing. "that's so, where can he be?" echoed thad. "who's missing?" thad, went on to say. "bob white was only here we'd have him call the toll and find out. there used to be six kids the bunch." "it must be bumpus!" declared giraffe, solemnly. "you're right!" said a spluttering voice from some unseen place. "the poor old silly thing, he just jumped right over into the water without saying jack robinson!" step hen observed, in such a sad voice you would have thought he was having the tears streaming down his cheeks, when in truth there was a wide grin settled there. "oh! then he must surely be drowned," davy went on to add, in a voice that seemed to be choking with emotion--of some sort. "i thought i saw the lake rising, and that accounts for it," ventured step hen. "when a fellow as big as our poor chum goes down, he displaces just an equal part of water. however will we tell his folks the sad news?" "ain't you nearly done all that stuff?" demanded an impatient voice, and there was a rocking motion to the boat; after which a very red face surmounted by a shock of fiery hair, now well plastered down, hove in sight. "hey! somebody get a move on, and give me a hand. i'm soaked through and through, and i tell you my clothes weigh nigh on three tons." the five boys pretended to be hardly able to believe their eyes. they threw up their hands, and stared hard at the apparition. "why, sure, i believe it's our long lost chum, bumpus!" gasped giraffe. "mebbe it's his ghost come back to haunt us the rest o' out lives. mebbe we better knock him on the head; they say that's the only sure way to settle spooks," and as step hen said this terrible thing, he started to pick up the long-handled boat book. "no, you don't, step hen!" shrilled bumpus, who was really frightened as long as he remained in the water, for he believed it must be a mile deep so far out from land. "you just put that pole down, and get hold of my arm here. i tell you i'm tired of being in soak so long, and i want to come aboard so's to get some dry duds on. make 'em behave, thad, can't you? i'm getting weak holding on here all this while; and pretty soon i'll have to let go. then there will be a ghost, sure, to haunt this crowd. ain't you coming to assist a fellow scout in distress?" realizing that the joke had gone far enough the scout-master himself sprang forward to give poor bumpus the assistance he craved. there was no lack of help after that, step hen even made use of the boat hook to take hold of some part of the wet scout's clothes; and with a mighty "heave-o!" they dragged him, puffing, and shedding gallons of water, on to the deck of the stalled power-boat. here he lay for a minute or two "to drain," as giraffe remarked, but soon feeling chilled, bumpus began to hunt for his clothes-bag in order to get something dry to put on. as he did not have a complete outfit for a change, the other fellows helped out; but while his soaked khaki suit was drying, hanging here and there so the sun could do the business, the fat scout presented a laughable appearance, since of course none of the things that had been so generously loaned him began to fit his stout figure. however, since bumpus was by nature a jolly chap, he quickly saw the humor of the thing. this was after he had become warmed up fairly well, when he could sit and watch those who were tinkering with the broken engine, and tell what his feelings were as he sprang so hurriedly over into the big lake. it made him shiver, though, to look around at that sea of water, and realize what an exceedingly reckless boy he had been. "next time anything happens, me to stick to the old boat, even if i go up a mile high in the air!" he declared, raising his right hand solemnly, as though taking a vow. "have your wings ready, bumpus, and you'll be all right, because you can fly," said giraffe; and that provoked another laugh; because bumpus, once upon a time, being very ambitious to learn how to swim, had purchased a pair of those "white wings," which are simply bags made of waterproof cloth that can be inflated, and used after the manner of life preservers; so that he had had heaps of fun poked at him on account of his "wings." so a full hour passed. some of the boys were growing impatient, and to relieve the monotony, thad managed to call the attention of giraffe to the fact that it lacked only ten minutes of high noon. that was enough. "i thought i was feeling pretty weak!" ex-claimed the tall scout, rubbing his stomach sympathetically, "and no wonder, with breakfast so far back i've even clean forgot what i had. come along, boys, let's get busy with lunch." "the rest of you can attend to that," said thad, satisfied that his plan had worked; "and by the time you are ready to call us, we'll have this job all done, so we can start her going." that was cheering news, and the rest immediately set to work with a will. there was a little stove aboard that used gasoline for fuel, and with this it seemed as though they ought to be able to do all the cooking they wanted when away from land. of course should they have the opportunity, they meant to go ashore many times, and have one of the old-fashioned camp-fires, around which they had sat so many times in the past, when on their outings. before long the smell of cooking that filled the air told that the laborers were making a success of the warm lunch business. bumpus in particular seemed fairly wild for things to get done. "i tell you, i just can't seem to get any warmth inside me," he complained when step hen took him to task for showing such unusual impatience. "that water was as cold as greenland, and went right through me. i want my coffee, and i know when i want it." "guess your being so badly scared had a heap to do with it," remarked giraffe. "perhaps so, giraffe," replied the fat scout, meekly; "i admit that i was frightened out of a year's growth, because i once dreamed i was burned in just such an accident as a boat taking fire. but how about you, giraffe? the first time my head came up above the coming of the deck i saw your face, and say, talk to me about a gravestone being white, that wasn't anything alongside your phiz." "you don't say!" jeered the tall scout, though he looked conscious of the fact that his face was now as red as a beet. "and chances are that you didn't jump the same way i did because you were scared so bad you just couldn't move a finger," bumpus went on, seeing his advantage. "thad!" called out giraffe, scorning to pay attention to the thrust. "all right!" answered the other. "lunch ready!" giraffe went on to say. "and so is our job done," saying this thad i gave the crank a quick turn, upon which there was a quick response; for the merry popping of the engine greeted the anxious ears of the young cruisers. "hurrah!" shouted bumpus, who was feeling fine, now that he had given giraffe a return jab, after having it rubbed in so hard by the tall scout. the chippeway belle was already moving rapidly through the water, rising and falling on the waves that came out of the southwest; and as the six lads gathered around to do justice to the spread that was to serve as their first meal afloat, they once more saw things in a cheery light, for all seemed going well with them. chapter vi the rival fishermen as the afternoon crept on, and the boat continued to keep up a merry pace, the boys began to feel their confidence return. as thad assured them he did not expect to have any further trouble with the engine, they no longer kept an anxious eye on the working part of the craft, while at the least unusual sound every fellow's heart seemed ready to jump into his throat with wild alarm. it was not the purpose of the cruisers to try and cross the vast body of water upon which their little craft was launched, and which is so immense that for two whole days they might be out of sight of land. thad knew the danger that lay in such a thing, and had promised the folks at home in cranford that he would be very careful. indeed, only for the presence of dr. hobbs, some of the parents of the scouts might have felt like revoking their promise to allow their boys to be of the party. accordingly their course was now laid in such a quarter that they could keep the land in sight upon their port quarter most of the time. of course, while the scouts had not been at sea, and really knew very little of navigation, they were ambitious to learn. and as bumpus had before hand written down all sorts of phrases used long ago on board the ships that sailed the seas in such white-winged flocks before the advent of steam gave them such a backset, he read these all out to his mates; and after that, whenever they could think of the nautical name for anything they insisted on using it, because, as giraffe declared, it gave such a realistic effect to things. "but let me tell you there's a rumpus in the navy these days," said step hen, as giraffe asked him to "step aft, and hand me that pair of binoculars, so i can take an observation." "what about?" asked thad. "why, they want to abolish some of these old terms that are just a part of sea-faring life. for instance they say that when the man at the wheel is told to 'port your helm,' it takes just the fraction of a second for it to pass through his mind that that means 'turn your helm to the left.' and so they say in our navy after this the officer will callout: 'turn your helm to the left, jack!' whew! that must rile every old jack tar, though. it's like taking the seasoning out of the mince meat." "don't you believe it'll ever pass," asserted bumpus, indignantly; "and just after i've made up my mind to learn every one of this list so i can rattle it off like i can already box the compass. no siree, every true sailorman will rise up in arms against it. you can count on my vote in favor of sticking to the old way. nothing like the old things, say!" "'cepting engines," interposed step hen, maliciously. "oh! well, i draw the line there, that's true," bumpus admitted, with a shrug of his fat shoulders, as his eyes unconsciously dropped, so that he looked down into the depths of the lake, "a full mile deep," as he always said to himself. "oh! i saw a fish then!" he suddenly shouted, showing new excitement. "get your hook and line, bumpus, and mebbe we'll have fried speckled trout or white fish for supper!" remarked giraffe, with what he meant to be satire in his speech. "huh! i ain't that green about fishing, and you know it," remarked the other, as he gave the tall scout a look of scorn. "anyhow, i can beat you a mile fishing any day in the week, giraffe, and i don't care who hears me say it." "is that a challenge, bumpus?" demanded thad, seeing a chance for some fun to enliven their cruise. "if he chooses to take me up, you can call it that," responded the fat boy, with a belligerent look at his rival. "oh! i'm ready to meet you half way, bumpus; anything to oblige," giraffe went on to say, sturdily. "i'd just like a good chance to show you up for a fish fakir. we've heard a heap about how you used to haul 'em in; now's your chance to prove that you're the big gun of this trip." "all right, just as you say, and we'll leave it to thad to lay down the terms of the contest, the loser to treat the crowd to a dinner when we get back home," bumpus went on to say, with the took of one who would die sooner than give up. "no need of that last," allan asserted, with a shake of his head. "we expect to have a spread anyhow when we arrive back in cranford, because there's plenty of money in the treasury of the silver fox patrol; but the loser must do the drudgery that always goes with a dinner, and be the waiter for the other seven fellows. do you both agree to that?" "i do!" said bumpus, holding up his right hand, just as thought he might be before squire jasper, and about to give his evidence in court. "ditto here; i agree, thad," giraffe hastened to say, not wishing to have it appear that he lagged behind his competitor a particle. "now, about the terms; what sort of fish are we to grab?" bumpus wanted to know. "you don't grab any, bumpus," giraffe warned him; "every one must be fairly caught with hook and line, and no seines or nets or guns used. ain't that right, judge?" thad immediately declared he understood that, it was to be a genuine sportsmanlike proceeding, and that no underhand tactics would be tolerated. "first the number will count," he went on to explain; "after that variety will stand for a second point. then the heaviest fish will be a third claim, and we might as well make it interesting, so let's call the smallest fish caught a fourth point." "that's four in all; can't you think up another, so's to have it five; and then three points will be a majority, and wins out?" suggested davy jones. "a good idea, davy," thad assured him; "suppose, then, we also say the longest fish when measured by inches; that would make five points, all right." "yes," interrupted giraffe, "but ain't that already covered when you say the biggest fish?" "not necessarily," thad told him, "though in some cases the two would go together, i suppose. but sometimes you'll catch a bass that measures two inches longer than the one the other fellow got, but when you use the scales his weighs more by six ounces. how does that come--well, we've got an illustration right here in you and bumpus; you call yourself the larger by nearly a foot, but when it comes--" giraffe threw up his hands in token of surrender. "that's right, thad," declared bumpus, "the longest ain't always high notch. they do say the best goods come in the smallest packages. but write the conditions down, thad, while they're fresh in our minds, and read 'em out. when i come in under the wire first, as i surely will, it'd grieve me to hear any squealing from our tall friend here, and have any dispute about not understanding the rules of the game." giraffe sniffed scornfully, but did not say anything. however, for a long time after that both boys busied themselves sorting out the greatest lot of fishing tackle their chums had seen for an age; showing that they were in deadly earnest about trying to win the wager. bumpus even managed to attach a phantom minnow to the end of a line, which he slyly dropped overboard when he thought no one was looking, in hopes of being fortunate enough to get first blood in the competition. and the others knew that if this thing kept up they were bound to have plenty of fun in watching the desperate efforts of the rival fishermen. thad was looking up at the sky occasionally. "seem to be some clouds gathering?" remarked allan, noticing this action on the part of the pilot of the expedition. "yes, but then they may not mean anything; though i've been told that storms do come up very suddenly around here. may be something about this big body of fresh water that brings that about, for the sun must draw heaps up from old superior every hot day." "i reckon, now, you're aiming to get to that cove you marked on the chart, so's to have a snug harbor for the night," allan went on to say. "just what i am," the other admitted; "this lake is a bit too big for us to think of anchoring out, and taking chances. a storm is bad enough in daytime when you can see around you; but it must be terrible in the pitch darkness." "excuse me, if you please," spoke up step hen, who had been listening to all the others said. "i hope there are aplenty of them same snug harbors; for a boat the size of ours to drop in and stay overnight." "that's just the trouble about cruising on superior," said thad, "and especially along the american shore, because there are few rivers that empty into the lake. up along the canadian side it's different, because there are some fine trout streams that extend from white fish bay along toward old fort william." "i'd like to see that last place," spoke up davy, "because i've heard about it ever since i was knee high to a grasshopper. you see, my great grandfather used to live in montreal in the days when the northwest fur company was in competition with the hudson bay company, and my ancestor was employed each spring to set out from montreal with some, big batteaus manned by french canadian voyageurs, who would row and sail all the way through most of the great lakes to fort william, where the agent had collected heaps of valuable pelts from the trappers and the injuns after the season was done. these he'd fetch all the way back to montreal again, the flat bottom boats being loaded down with the bales. and let me tell you that was taking risks some; but they raised men in them days, i reckon, men that never allowed themselves to think of such a thing as danger, because they were always facing some sort of perils." "i guess you're, about right, davy," admitted thad; "and i often sit and wonder how it'd seem if a fellow lived away back in those days before the times of automobiles, motorboats, telephones, talking machines and electricity." "huh!" grunted bumpus, "according to my mind, what dangers they faced ain't to be mentioned in the same breath as them we have hovering over us all the while. for instance, what if thad here just crooked his hand, wouldn't we be apt to run smack into that other boat that's goin' to pass us right now. "and say, fellows," remarked giraffe, in a low, mysterious tone, that somehow managed to thrill the others, as no doubt he intended it should; "just take a peek at the men in that boat, will you? somehow i don't know just why, but they make me think of pirates, if ever they have such critters up here on old superior. and take it from me, boys, right now one of the bunch is looking us over through a marine glass. like as not they're making up their minds who and what we can be, and if it's going to pay 'em to board this same craft, to clean it out. don't anybody make out like we're watching 'em; but try and remember where you put our gun, thad; because who knows but what we might need the same right bad before long?" chapter vii on heaving waters "gee! pirates! whew!" that was only bumpus talking to himself; as he lay there on the deck, and stared across the swelling water toward the black powerboat that was heading the other way, so as to cross their course. there were apparently several men in the strange boat; and as giraffe had just remarked, they seemed to be more or less interested in the chippeway belle and her young crew, for every one of them was looking that way, and one man really had a pair of marine glasses up to his eyes. thad dived into the interior of what was called the "hunting cabin," and quickly reappeared bearing the glasses they had been wise enough to fetch along, as well as a compass whereby to steer. "that's the ticket, thad!" said step hen; "let 'em see they ain't the only pebbles on the beach. we've got a marine glass, too. now, tell us what you think, are they really lake buccaneers; and will we have to put up a desperate fight to keep from being robbed, and sunk, and perhaps made slaves?" bumpus gasped for breath, at hearing such doleful things; but as, step hen gave a quick glance toward the fat chum, possibly what he said was only meant to cause the other's flesh to quiver with dread. "oh! they don't seem to be altering their course in the least," spoke up allan; "and as for them watching us, who wouldn't stare on seeing a crowd of boys afloat up here on superior waters?" "i was thinking that our uniforms as scouts might make them sit up and take notice," said giraffe. "p'raps they think we're u. s. soldiers, because the dough-boys all wear this same khaki now instead of the old army blue. and in case they're real bold smugglers or pirates, that would give them cause for a scare. do they look like they're ready to run away, thad?" "well, not any more than would be the case if they were honest cruisers," replied the other, as he handed the glasses to allan, who in turn would pass them around. "seems to me one of them wears some kind of a blue cap, as though he might be an officer of some sort." "oh! don't count on that," spoke up bumpus, "anybody can buy one like that. ain't i got one right here in my duffel bag; but i hadn't found a chance to spring it on the rest of the bunch. they, may be a tough lot, even if one does wear an officer's cap." "well, they're going right along about their own business, and don't seem to be changing their course a little bit," allan said as he passed the glasses to giraffe. "i'm glad to hear that," bumpus admitted, breathing freely again. "because, as you all know, i'm very much opposed to violence at any time; though," he continued, "i'd fight if i was hard pushed, and fight real fierce, too." "we all know that, bumpus, so there's no need of you apologizing," thad assured him, with a smile and a nod, for he was very fond of the stout chum. "but when you said smugglers, what did you mean, giraffe?" questioned step hen. "oh! don't you know that they have heaps of trouble with such law-breakers all along the canadian border?" demanded the tall boy. "you see, there's a heavy duty on a lot of things that can come into canada free, or with only a small sum to pay; and whenever men can make money taking chances, they're just bound to try it. why, i understand that millions of dollars are lost to the government every year just in the goods smuggled across the border all the way from maine to the pacific ocean." "whew! and yonder craft might be one of the tricky boats engaged in that business; is that what you mean, giraffe?" asked bumpus, again staring hard after the strange black powerboat which was larger than the chippeway belle, and apparently much better able to meet the heavy seas that must sweep across the lake when the wind reached a certain strength. "oh! i don't say that, remember," quickly replied the other; "because it's only a guess on my part, and i haven't anything to show for proof. i was just giving you the benefit of a bright thought that came into my brain, that's all. there may be something in it, and again, p'raps them fellows are just a pleasure party; or some sportsmen heading, for a favorite fishing place." "then if we followed 'em, we'd stand a show to find where the fish lie," suggested bumpus; showing that at least he had not forgotten about his recent wager, even in the midst of all this excitement. "better mind your own business, i think," remarked allan. "yes," added giraffe, "if so be they turned out to be a bad lot, they'd think we kept poking our noses in just to arrest them; and in that case chances are we'd get our fingers burned." "but what do you think they might be, thad?" persisted step hen, noticing that the pilot of the expedition had as yet not given any opinion on the matter. "oh! any one of the explanations you fellows have put up might cover the bill," thad, went on to say. "the idea came into my mind that perhaps now those men might be game-fish wardens." "w-what!" gasped bumpus; "d'ye mean to tell me they have such things on a big lake like this? why, i thought they were only needed ashore, where ponds and rivers require looking after." "that's where you make a big mistake," thad informed him. "right up among the great lakes there are millions of dollars taken out in fish every year; and if the government didn't watch sharp plenty of unscrupulous fishermen would use all kinds of illegal devices for getting big hauls. they are limited to certain kinds of nets or seines; and so the precious sturgeon, and the delicious white fish that are in these lakes will be kept from being exterminated." "thank you for telling us that, thad; it's all news to me," said step hen. "but what about the trout; i've heard there are awful big speckled trout in superior?" "so there are, as high as eight pounds; and the government hatchery at the soo has hundreds that large in their ponds, for breeding purposes, i've read," thad continued, for the topic was a favorite one with him, and he was a very accommodating boy at that; "that in michigan, for instance, the law doesn't allow trout to be offered for sale or shipped; so while they catch some whoppers in the acts they use for white fish, they have to put most of them back." "and then you think that p'raps those men are wardens, looking for poachers that are breaking the law some way or other?" giraffe asked. "i only said that might be who they are," thad insisted. "you notice they have a high-powered boat that could make circles all around, ours, if they wanted to let her engine out. and it's painted black, perhaps so they can sneak up on a dark night without being seen. but as they're two miles away from us by now, suppose we cut out talking any more about them." from the way thad turned his eyes upward, and looked at the gathering clouds it was evident that he felt he had better pay attention to other matters which threatened to cause them more or less annoyance before long. the wind was certainly freshening very fast. and of necessity the waves began to take on a size that made poor bumpus stare, and look serious, as he contemplated the possibility of a wreck. "sure you are heading right to make that cove?" giraffe asked the skipper who had the wheel in his charge. the engine was plodding away steadily, though some of the boys were worried at the quick whirr that followed the passing of each big wave, when, perhaps the propeller would be partly exposed, and the resistance so much less that it spun around, much faster than usual. "yes, no doubt about it at all, and if everything goes along right we stand to make our harbor before dark comes along," the other answered. "oh! i wish we were there already," groaned bumpus; and when thad looked at the fat scout he noticed how white he was. but then that was nothing singular, for it was certainly getting pretty rough out there on that great expanse of water, and some of the scouts were sure to display signs of seasickness sooner or later, he knew. perhaps poor bumpus was fated to be the first victim. "well," remarked giraffe, trying hard to appear indifferent, though he could not wholly hide his concern every time a wave larger than ordinary would slap against the side of the boat, and sweep along toward the stern, causing a quiver to run all through the little craft that seemed just like a chip on that inland sea; "i reckon now, it would be pretty tough if we missed connections somehow, and had to keep marking time all night long out on this old bathtub." "oh! murder! i hope we don't!" muttered bumpus, shivering. "stop that kind of talk, giraffe," ordered thad, who would rather look on the bright side of things; "don't you see you're only bothering bumpus?" "there's no need of feeling that we're going to have trouble; because the engine is working as fine as silk right now, and i feel sure i can see where that same jolly little cove lies, away ahead there." "you mean where that small point juts out, don't you, thad?" asked allan, who hovered constantly near his best churn, ready to take a hand at a second's notice, should there ever arise an occasion calling for assistance. "yes, that shows on the government chart i've marked, and the cove lies just in the shelter of it. i think a little river makes into the lake there, and if so we might pick up some fish before starting out again." he spoke this loud enough for bumpus to hear; but apparently that sad individual had lost all interest in the wager he had so recently made with giraffe, for he did not take any notice of what thad said, only continued to look far away, and press his hand up and down in the pit of his stomach; and when a boy begins to realize that he has such an organ at all, he must be in a pretty bad way. still the wind kept on increasing until it was blowing a small gale. even the confident thad felt a little nervous as he wondered what would happen should their engine suddenly give a groan and cease to labor. the situation must be anything but pleasant, left at the mercy of the coming storm, out there a couple of miles from the southern shore, and further than that away from the lovely little cove where they had hoped to pass the night in peace and safety. the next half hour was apt to settle that matter, one way or the other; and of course thad found no reason to despair, as yet, for the motor kept buzzing away cheerily, and the boat pushed through the rising and falling, billows quite sturdily, as the pilot kept her pointed toward that headland far beyond. chapter viii no end of troubles "what's that queer sound?" asked step hen, looking up suddenly. "oh, never mind, it's only me," came from the side of the boat, where bumpus was lying flat on his stomach, and leaning over. the boys looked at each other; perhaps thad and allan smiled somewhat, but for a wonder none of the others had any kind of joke to spring just then; for truth to tell giraffe, davy and even step hen himself were feeling as though if this sort of swaying motion had to keep up much longer they could not resist the temptation to copy after the boy who was so terribly seasick. "thought i felt a drop of rain just then," remarked giraffe, more to have something to talk about, and so forget his other troubles, than that he really believed it. "no, it must only have been the spray," said thad. "you notice that sometimes after a big wave slaps up against our larboard quarter, the wind carries drops of water flying past. it's a lively little blow all right, though i suppose the people up here, who are used to much worse things, wouldn't think this anything." "p'raps they might if they were out so far from land, in such a little pumpkinseed of a boat," complained step hen. "and with an old rattletrap of a motor that's threatening to wheeze its last any minute, at that," added giraffe, fiercely. "let up on that kind of talk, giraffe," said davy; "we've sure all got troubles of our own as it is, without that silly calling of names. for my part i think the engine is doing its prettiest, and i take off my hat to it. don't, you go to calling it hard names, or it might get even by kicking over the traces, and quitting on us. then we would be in a fine pickle. but i think it's better to keep lying down, all you can, when it blows like this. make room there, bumpus, can't you?" then there were two of them; and talk about your rivalry, it did seem as though both of those fellows would tear themselves to pieces, as the boat continued to swing up and down with that perpetual sickening, nauseating movement. presently step hen found a place too, and tried to outdo his comrades; seeing which giraffe apparently thought he might as well make it unanimous then there were four, leaving only the skipper and his first assistant on deck to manage the boat. "anyhow, the cargo will be lighter after all this," giraffe spoke up, after a while, showing that even seasickness could not quite extinguish his love of joking. by now they had covered considerable distance, so that the little headland loomed not a great away beyond. thad, too, had changed their course somewhat, so that they were now much closer shore than before; and unless some accident happened he believed that before another twenty minutes passed they would be able to get the shelter of that projecting tongue of land, after which their present troubles would fade away. it was time, too, for already the first dim signs of coming darkness could be seen around them; no doubt the fact that clouds covered the face of the sky had more or less to do with this early closing in of the night, as is always the case. bumpus was sitting up, though looking very white indeed. every now and then he would shake his round head in a doleful way, and heave a tremendous sigh, as though he might be wondering if his whole past would be appearing before him, since, as he complainingly told the sympathizing thad, "everything seemed to be coming up nowadays." "only a little while ago i was worrying my poor old head off for fear the boat would sink with me," he went on to say, with a dismal smile; "and now it's just the other way, and i'm feelin' bad because she won't sink." "oh! don't let yourself down like that, bumpus," said allan; "we're going in behind that headland right away, and you'll be surprised to see how quick you get over feeling bad. there, the water isn't near so rough as it was, right now; and soon it'll seem like a mill pond." "do you think so; wish i could believe it?" called out step hen, without turning his head, for he was very busy; "but seems to me the old boat is jumping as bad as any cayuse i ever saw, when we were out in the wild west. oh!" all the same allan was right, for they were passing in behind the projecting tongue of land, and already the worst was over, for the seas were not near so heavy, though of course the change was hardly noticeable to those who were feeling so badly. and so it came about that presently thad had to lessen their speed, for he did not want to run aground, or have any other accident occur that would cripple the boat, and shorten their cruise. "we're all right, now, fellows," sang out giraffe, being the first to recover, simply because he had more grit and determination than any of the other three who had been knocked out by the motion of the craft in the big seas. "yes, and our next job is to prowl around here some, before dark gets us, so as to find the best anchorage," thad remarked, as the boat crept slowly along back of the point. "why, i should think any place here would answer," said giraffe; "because that wind from the southwest ain't going to get a whack at us any longer." "but who'll guarantee that the wind doesn't shift into the north during the night, and have a full sweep at us here?" asked thad. "no, we ought to find out if there really is a little stream flowing into the lake here; and if so the mouth of that same will afford us the safest place to anchor, or tie up." "i agree with you there, thad," said bumpus, weakly; but then the fact that he took any sort of interest in what was going on announced plainly enough that he must be recovering. and the others had by this time reached their limit, for they contributed no more to the fishes of superior, but began to sit up, and take notice of things. the recovery from seasickness is usually as rapid as the coming of the trouble; given a firm foundation to stand upon, and the sufferer soon forgets his agony, so that he can even remember that food tastes good. pushing their way carefully in the scouts presently discovered that there was a stream of some kind emptying into the lake at this place; and that around several bends there was a splendid anchorage for a small boat such as theirs, though a larger craft might find some difficulty about getting in, on account of shallow water. and when they dropped their anchor over at last, all of them were pleased to feel that they had left that riotous sea behind them. "this is something like," declared giraffe, now fully recovered, and of course sharp set to get supper started; indeed all of them felt as though they could do ample justice to a good meal. so the gasoline stove was put into service again, and everyone helped get the things ready that their menu for that night called for. giraffe started a pot of rice cooking, for he was very fond of that dish, and could "make a meal off it," he often declared; though his chums noticed that even when he had plenty of the same beside him, he dipped into every other dish just as usual. besides this one of the boys opened a large tin of corned beef that was emptied into a kettle, together with a can of corn, and another of lima beans, the whole making what is known as a "canoeist's stew," and is not only tasty to the hungry voyager, but exceedingly filling as well. these, with crackers, cheese, some cakes done up in air-proof packages, and tea constituted the supper that was finally placed before them. it really seemed to some of those hungry boys as though that was the finest feast they had ever sat down to. of course that often came to their minds, because what they were just then eating tasted so very good. but with such enormous appetites as a sauce, there could never be any chance for a complaint coming. and the chief cook received so many compliments that it was no wonder his cheeks and ears burned like the fire he had been standing over so long. by the time the meal was through it was very dark all around them. they could still hear the wind blowing out beyond the point; and the wash of the big waves told that the sea was probably higher than before; so that every fellow expressed himself as glad that they had managed to get into such a splendid harbor, where they need not bother their minds what sort of weather held outside. the night was warm, and it seemed comfortable enough for them to lie around on the deck, exchanging comments. later on they would arrange just how they were to pile into that small cabin, and manage to sleep; for six boys can take up considerable room; and there would have been even seven to fill the space had not the scout-master, dr. hobbs, been recalled home at the last moment. of course bumpus had entirely recovered from his indisposition. he only hoped he would now be proof against a second attack. in fact, he had even begun to remember the terms of the wager, and was trying to get a line out on the sly, baited with a piece of meat he had fastened to the hook, in hopes of some gullible fish taking hold, so that he could wildly haul his captive in, and have the laugh on his competitor. when morning came he was determined to go ashore, and see if he could not find some angle worms; for without bait it was folly to think of catching fish on hooks; and all sorts of other contraptions were barred from the contest. giraffe, however, was not asleep, and he saw what his rival was up to; but although bumpus was not aware of the fact, the tall scout had had his line over the side for half an hour now, also baited, and with the hope of a bite. from now on the race promised to become pretty warm between them, once they got fully started in the game. they had talked over about every subject that could be imagined, including the matter of the mysterious powerboat that had passed them that afternoon, apparently heading in another direction; though thad knew that long afterwards those in the black craft had altered their course, and were really following them. it was getting along near time when they ought to be thinking about retiring so as to get some rest, when another subject came up suddenly. giraffe, who had been stretching that long neck of his for some little time, observed that he was trying to make out what a certain queer light might stand for. "it's away up the shore yonder, fellows, and seems to be a lantern, as near as i can make out," he went on to say; "every now and then it bobs up, and down; and if you asked me i'd say it was, meant for some sort of signal!" "a signal!" echoed bumpus, in almost an awed tone; "that sounds like there might be smugglers, or something, like that around here; and perhaps they take us for revenue officers trying to nip them at their work. whew! spells more trouble for us, i'm afraid. first the storm; then that awful spell of gone feeling; and now it's smugglers. whew! i say!" chapter ix "be prepared!" bumpus was not the only fellow who felt his heart beating much faster than its wont just then, though none of the others betrayed the fact; for giraffe and step hen were too crafty to show that they were worried. they seemed to be in a trap, for the heavy seas would not allow them to think of leaving their anchorage until morning came along, at least; and to remain might be exposing themselves to some unknown peril. but then these lads had done through so many things, especially since they joined the cranford troop of boy scouts, and learned what it meant to think for themselves, that none of them really displayed the white feather, no matter if bumpus, who loved peace so much that he sometimes fought to secure it, did manifest some uneasiness. they had along with them a double-barreled shotgun that had always given a good account, of itself in times past; and would again if called to show its sterling qualities. and with this in the hands of thad brewster, who was a perfectly fearless chap, according to his churns, who did not know that his boy heart could hammer in his breast like a runaway steam engine, why, they surely ought to be able to stave off any ordinary attack. giraffe felt better when he had picked up the camp hatchet, and waved it several times in the air, making vicious stabs at an imaginary enemy. "get ready for boarders, fellows!" remarked step hen, who had reached in and secured the long bread-knife, which would make a most formidable weapon, if only he had the nerve to wield the same. "not on your life!" snapped giraffe; "we've got enough mouths to feed as it is, without taking, on any more. boarders nothing. you've got another think coming, step hen, don't you see?" "but after all, fellows," thad told his followers, "this may be a false alarm. that light has gone now. it may only have been some farmer or miner letting his wife know he was on the way home. how do we know any different? and what interest would any rascals have in trying to come aboard this boat?" "that sounds all very fine, thad," remarked davy; "but i hope we ain't thinkin' of all going to sleep at once to-night!" "we ought to have a sentry on duty all the time," suggested giraffe. "i appoint you for that onerous duty, then, giraffe; consider that settled," the scout-master said, like a flash; whereupon the tall chap began to hedge, and explain more fully his views. "oh! course i didn't mean that one scout should sit up all night," he went on to remark; "but by taking turns we'd feel that the boat wasn't agoing to be carried off while we slept. sure i'm willing to stand my turn, which might be any two hours you set; and then i'll wake up the next man. you know we've done that same many a time when we were up in maine, down along the blue ridge, and out among the rockies hunting big game." "of course i understood what you meant, giraffe," the scout-master went on to remark; "and as you say, some of us will spell you, a new man going on duty every two hours. but i hope now nobody really believes that we're going to be attacked, by lake pirates, or smugglers, or anything like that. those who lie down to sleep, just forget everything. we're safe here in a splendid harbor and nothing will happen to bother us." "but if it should, thad, you'll wake us all up, i hope," urged bumpus. "i promise you that, bumpus," returned thad; "because i know just how you feel about it. no fellow likes to be kicked while he's asleep; with his eyes open he's in a way to take care of himself. oh! yes, we'll see that every one is waked up if there's going to be a row; because we'll have need of your fighting face then, bumpus, remember." it was hard to get the fat boy fully aroused, such was his customary good nature; but when he did get beyond the limit, he used to assume what he considered a terrible look, that was supposed to strike fear to the heart of his adversary. somehow no one admitted to feeling at all sleepy now. even bumpus, who as a rule could be depended on to fall asleep right after he had had his supper, was apparently as wide-awake as a hawk; and joined in all the conversation as they sat around on the deck and waited for, they hardly knew what, to happen. "anyhow, we didn't tie up to the shore, as bumpus wanted when he said he'd feel so much better if he could walk on firm ground again," remarked step hen. "and i'm glad now that twenty feet or more of water lies between us and shore," the party mentioned hastened to add. "how deep do you think it is in here, thad?" questioned davy. "all of twenty feet in the place our anchor went down," replied the skipper, promptly, "it's a regular hole, such as the trout like to lie in during the hot dog days of late summer." "glad to hear you say that," observed bumpus; but he did not explain whether his pleasure lay in the fact that any would-be boarders might find it difficult to cross over from the rocks to the boat; or that there were likely to be fish in the pool, affording a chance for a nibble at the tempting bait he had dropped overboard, attached to the concealed hook at the end of his line. "if anybody came along here just on purpose to take a good look at us, whereabouts d'ye think they'd be likely to show up, first of all, thad?" step hen wanted to know. "i was thinking about that a minute ago, step hen," replied the scout-master; "and sort of made up my mind they'd be apt to climb that pile of rocks yonder. you see, it overlooks this pool, and a man might lie there near the top and watch us all he wanted, provided the moon came out, and gave him the light he'd need." everybody thereupon cast an eye aloft. "i'm afraid that moon business is just what's going to happen right soon," observed giraffe. "yes, there isn't going to be a storm after all," remarked the skipper; "clouds are breaking night now, and it was a false alarm, you see." "well, hardly, with me," ventured bumpus; whereupon everybody tittered, because they knew what the fat scout meant; and there were three others, who, if they were as candid as bumpus, might have added: "me too!" half an hour passed by, and they were really getting tired, for it was now in the neighborhood of half-past ten o'clock, as thad told them the last time he consulted his little dollar watch that gave him so much satisfaction in all his outings. still, none of them wanted to be the fellow to first crawl under his blanket, it being only a matter of pride that kept bumpus at least on deck, blinking like an owl in the daytime, as he tried to keep his eyes open. jim, by the way, had been fastened to a cleat, and was perched on the edge of the cabin roof, no one as yet daring to touch him; though he had eaten some meat they placed within his reach, which proved that the owl did not mean to starve himself to death, yet awhile at least. all at once bumpus felt a galvanic shock. "oh!" he shouted in excitement, "it's come at last!" all the others started up in great alarm. "what ails the fellow?" cried step hen. "got a fit, i reckon!" echoed giraffe. "fit nothing!" mocked the fat scout, who was bending over, and seemed to be clawing wildly at the air, so that it was no wonder in the darkness they thought he must be having a return engagement with that sea sickness; "i've got a fish, and that's more'n you can claim, giraffe, with all your smartness!" "bah! never count your chicken's till they're hatched!" scoffed the other, as he saw the fat scout suddenly pause, as though there had come a sickening slackening of the line. "imagination is a great thing, mebbe; but next time be sure of your game before you whoop it up so." "but he's there yet, i tell you!" ejaculated bumpus, again becoming active. "hi! somebody lend me a hand here, so i won't lose him. we need this trout in our business, because we got to have breakfast in the morning." "hold on!" said giraffe, with emphasis; "don't forget that the terms of our wager state distinctly that no one must offer the slightest assistance in landing a fish. if you're after that fish solely for breakfast, why, any of us'll be glad to lend you a hand; but then it don't count. how about that, thad?" "you're correct, giraffe," replied the other; "but i hope bumpus lands his prize, all right, because fresh fish would taste fine to-morrow morn." it was a little struggle in the mind of giraffe as to whether the sportsman spirit, or the love of good feeding would prevail; but at last he also cried out: "i hope he gets it, too, sure i do! good for you, giraffe!" exclaimed thad, perhaps purposely mistaking this for a spirit of fairness that would do the tall scout credit as a true sportsman. meanwhile all of them watched bumpus tugging at his line. the fish was full of fight, and evidently objected to furnishing a breakfast for a party of boy scouts off on a vacation cruise; but by sheer strength, and not a little good luck in the bargain rather than fisherman's skill, bumpus finally man aged to haul his struggling prize aboard. "it's a trout, as sure as pop!" exclaimed step hen, as they all bent over the wiggling and flapping captive, and giraffe struck a match, the better to see its nature. "whee! let me tell you he pulled to beat the band too!" the proud angler vowed, as he rubbed his arms; and then bent lower to admire the spotted sides of the big trout, that probably looked prettier to bumpus than anything he had ever before seen. "he's a jim dandy, and that's a fact, bumpus!" said giraffe, swallowing his bitter chagrin because fortune had cheated him out of being the first in the contest to bring in such a prize; at the same time he was no doubt thinking what a tasty morsel that splendid fish would afford the lot for breakfast and wondering if there were not several of them who had confessed that they did not care for fish which would allow a larger portion to those who did. however, all thoughts of this nature were doomed to be forgotten, because just then davy had to go and throw a bombshell into the camp by remarking in a low and trembling voice: "thad, oh thad! i saw a fellow poke his head up above that pile of rocks just then, give you my word of honor i did!" "be prepared!" said the skipper, quickly; and every scout reached out for the weapon he had decided to rely upon in case of dire necessity. chapter x the queer ways of bumpus "there ain't a thing moving up there, davy; and i reckon, now, you're only just afooling us," complained step hen, after they had stared as hard as anything at the crown of the rocks, which was sharply outlined against the dark heavens. as the others had met with like poor success in trying to locate the object the scout in question claimed to have seen, they naturally turned on davy, to demand further explanations. it could easily be seen, however, from his excited condition, that the boy actually believed what he said. when giraffe and bumpus, and even allan, urged him to repeat his assertion, he not only did so, but added still more to what he had said before. "guess i ought to know what a man's head looks like, hadn't i?" davy went on to remark, indignantly; "cause i've seen a few in my day. it was there as plain as--as, well, the nose on my face, and you'll say that's right smart in evidence, i know you will, giraffe. looky up yonder--see the little peak that seems to stick up above all the rest of the old rock pile? well, it was alongside that it showed up; and right while i was asaying it, the thing disappeared like smoke. but you believe me, i saw something, and it was a man's head too, no matter if there was a bear or a panther at the other end of the same." strange to say no one chuckled at these queer remarks of davy. they saw that he was in deadly earnest; and the possibility of a strange man spying on them seemed too serious a matter to arouse a laugh. "well," said step hen, presently, when they had strained their eyes to the utmost without any result whatever, "seems like he saw you at the same time, and lit out in a big hurry." giraffe began to recover from the first shock caused by the alarm; and when he was feeling himself the tall scout could nearly always think of something quaint to say. "that reminds me of the old baby book rhyme we all used to say; p'raps you'll remember, fellows. it's been a long time since i repeated it, but i think it runs about like this: 'i saw esau kissing kate; and the fact is, we all three saw. i saw esau, he saw me; and kate saw i saw esau.' how's that?" no one answered, and for a pretty good reason; for hardly had giraffe uttered his question when, without the slightest warning, a dazzling ray of white light suddenly fell upon the group of scouts crouching there on the after-deck of the little hunting cabin cruiser, causing every one to gasp, and fall to quivering almost as much as though a flash of lightning had darted toward them. "oh!" cried some one; and while the tones of the voice could hardly be distinguished on account of the vibration caused by the speaker's alarm, no one had the least doubt but that it was bumpus who thus betrayed his agitated feelings. thad and allan, and perhaps several of the other scouts, knew instantly that the strong glow was caused by one of those handy little electric torches, for they happened to have just such an alliance along with them, and had made great use of it on numberless occasions. this told them that after all davy had spoken truly when he declared so vehemently that he had seen a man's head up there on the rocks. nobody moved, only crouched there, staring at that dazzling light, and mentally figuring what was going to happen next. doubtless all sorts of alarming theories flitted through their minds, for after their recent talk about smugglers and those sorts of law-breakers the boys were in a good state to imagine things. they were given very little time, however, to collect their wits; for a gruff voice (strange how voices are always gruff under similar condition but this one was very hoarse without any question) called out: "ahoy there, aboard the launch!" had it depended on bumpus, and perhaps step hen also, the reply must have been a long time coming, for they hardly dared trust their voices; but then thad was able to hold his own, and he immediately called back: "hello! yourself; what d'ye want?" "bring that boat ashore, and be quick about it!" the deep grumble proceeded to tell them; and somehow poor bumpus was forcibly reminded of the growl of a lion he had once heard in a menagerie, as well as several other things along the same "away down in the cellar" line. "i suppose we might as well do it, fellows?" thad remarked to his chums, in somewhat of a low tone; as though he meant to be influenced more or less by what decision the other scouts reached. "oh! can't we skip out before they get their hands on us, thad?" bumpus wanted to know. "we're full twenty feet and more away from the shore, and it'd take a champion sprinter and jumper to cover that distance." "yes, but how about running out into that storm again, eh, bumpus? feel like going through another experience like that?" demanded giraffe. "not any for me, thank you. thad, i say, do what he tells us. he can't eat us, i reckon; and we ain't got any reason to be afraid because of anything we've done." "same here, thad," remarked davy, quickly: he had been feeling very much like backing up bumpus in his request, but what giraffe said caused him to "take water" instantly, and davy was as quick to make a revolution in his mind as his body could revolve in several handsprings over the ground, when he was feeling good. "allan, how about you?" asked thad, feeling that much depended on what the one addressed thought. "no help for it, thad; we've got to throw up our hands that far, anyway; because, like as not they've got us covered right now with their guns, and while they can see us fairly well, everything all dark to us up there." "oh! my stars!" bumpus was heard to whisper to himself, in a horrified tone, as he learned about those terrible firearms that must be held with their muzzles projecting in the direction of the floating home of the scouts; but all the same bumpus, "though good and scared," as he afterwards candidly confessed, did not attempt to lie down, and shield his round body behind any of his comrades; if they could take the consequences surely he ought to be ready to face the music; and so he only knelt there and quivered and looked, momentarily to see a flash, and hear a deafening report that would stagger them all. "well are you going to do what i told you?" the heavy bass voice demanded, more or less, impatiently. "don't be so foolish as to think, you can slip away," a second unseen man told them, "because we've got you covered, and if you start up that engine we'll give you a volley that'll make you wish you hadn't. come ashore with that boat, you hear? we know you, cranston! the game is up!" thad breathed easier, somehow. what had been said seemed to tell him it might after all only be a case of mistaken identity; and that if they obeyed the rough summons they would in all probability not be apt to suffer on account of yielding. "get a push pole, somebody, and help me shove ashore!" thad remarked; and then raising his voice so that the unseen enemies might hear, he continued: "you needn't bother wasting any of your ammunition on us, mister, because, we're willing to do what you, ask, and come to land. so hold up, and give us a chance, for we've got to raise our anchor first; and the water's some deep here to use the poles in." he heard a low laugh near by, but there was no further comment from those who had the situation well in hand. every scout understood, however, that a number of heavily armed men must be scrutinizing their actions from the roll; for that strong white glow was kept closely focused on the boat all the time they proceeded to drag in the anchor, and start working the push poles, with which the little hunting cabin launch was well provided. the water in the harbor they had found was of considerable depth, but fortunately the poles were long as well as stout, and presently the boat began to move slowly in response to the energetic efforts which thad and giraffe put forth. bumpus had assisted to pull in the anchor, and was now squatted like a big frog near the bow. he knew full well that his position was very much exposed, and that in case the unseen enemy chose to actually open fire upon the boat, he would likely be the first to suffer; but in spite of this bumpus refused to budge. he had gotten over his first qualms of fear, and feeling ashamed of allowing himself to give way to such a sensation, and he a scout in the bargain, the boy was now going to the other extreme, and growing actually reckless. it made him think of the time some of his mates had declared they had seen a real boni-fide ghost in the town graveyard, and dared bumpus to lead the way in there, late at night, when they were passing. he had felt his teeth rattle together, just as they had been doing now; but summoning all his courage to the fore he had grimly said: "who's afraid?" and trembling like a leaf shaken in the wind, he had stalked into the cemetery, much to the admiration of his chums, who had expected the fat boy to back down abjectly. the boat approached the shore slowly. thad could not exactly see the forms of those who were waiting for them to come in, but since the focus of light changed from spot to spot he concluded that they were also drawing closer to the shore line, so as to be ready to receive those whom they already counted on as their prisoners. and, thad waited, in momentary expectation of hearing some sort of explosion, when the parties realized their mistake. in fact, he was so sure of this that he would not make the slightest effort to draw that shotgun closer to him, though that might have seemed good policy. finally the nose of the cruiser came smack up against the rocks with quite a little bump; and giraffe, having failed to fend off in time, was almost toppled over, but he managed to clutch hold of bumpus to steady himself, and that was like seizing upon the rock of gibraltar, because it would take a derrick to move the stout scout, once he settled down. so, when for the second time the boat came in contact with the shore, giraffe was able to give a little leap, painter in hand, and reach land. just as he did so, that deep bus voice sprang up again; and this time, as thad had expected, it told of considerable chagrin and disappointment. "well, what's this? only a bunch of kids, after all, instead of cranston and his gang of smugglers. the joke's on us, men; it is to laugh!" chapter xi the fame of the silver fox patrol "i thought so!" thad now remarked, showing what confidence he had felt in the decision that their best policy had been to obey orders, and come to the shore. several moving figures were now seen, and coming down the rocks toward them. in another minute's time these had resolved themselves into three men. they did not seem to be roughly dressed at all, but might be taken for gentlemen out to have a good time fishing or cruising. and the boys noticed, as soon as they could see anything at all, when thad lighted their camp lantern, that the largest of the trio wore a blue cap such as they had seen on the head of the man who watched their boat through his field-glasses late that afternoon. undoubtedly the black boat had turned back as evening set in, and it must have been some one connected with the party, whom they had seen waving that light from the shore. "good evening!" said allan, pleasantly, as the three men ranged up close by and evidently looked them over; "we've surrendered, you remember. now, what are you going to do with six boy scouts off for a vacation trip on the lake?" at that the big man turned to his companions, and laughed. no doubt they felt considerably disappointed, because they had somehow had high hopes of making an important capture; but after the first keen chagrin had passed they could enjoy a joke at their own expense. "you'll have to excuse our bothering you, boys," said he of the bass voice; "but you see we made a mistake. we're revenue officers, looking for a notorious smuggler named cranston, who operates around this section. we had positive information that he meant to cross over from canada in a boat that answered the description of yours to a fraction; and as it's the habit of these smugglers to adopt all sorts of disguises, from honest, hard-working fishermen, to anything else that suits their fancy, we guessed they'd taken to wearing khaki to make us believe they were a party of the militia out for a cruise." "and so we turned back, and planned this nice little surprise, when we saw that you had come in here," remarked a second man, still chuckling. "who are you, anyway, boys?" asked the third, who seemed to have more curiosity than his comrades, though his next words explained the reason for this; "because i've got two sturdy scouts, in my house, and they've become so much brighter lads since they joined the patrol that i want to tell you i'm interested in the movement wherever i run across it. and when i tell them about this blunder of ours i'd like to mention names, you know." "why, we belong to the silver fox patrol of cranford troop of boys scouts," remarked allan, promptly; "this is our assistant scout-master, thad brewster, who happens to be the pilot of the trip because dr. philander hobbs, our real leader, had to hurry back home on business; but we didn't worry a bit when that happened, because, you see, thad is capable of turning the trick; he knows more in a minute about everything in the woods than dr. hobbs could learn in ten years." "well, well, tell me about that, will you?" exclaimed the man, with some little excitement; "and which of you might be allan hollister--i reckon you're that party right now, youngster; and this stout scout here, surely he must be the bumpus who got into so many bad holes, and yet always managed to crawl out again? yes, i'm right about that; and let's see, which one might be giraffe--no need to ask that, when i look around me. then there was, another they called step hen, didn't they, not to mention davy jones, bob white and smithy? oh, i know you all, and i want to shake hands with each and every one of you. say, won't my kids go crazy when they hear that i've actually met up with that lively bunch of scouts." "w-w-what's all this mean, mister?" asked bumpus, actually trembling, not with fear any longer, but actual delight to hear himself mentioned in this familiar way by a stranger. "well, i'll have to confess that i've taken such a deep interest in what my boys are doing," continued the revenue officer, "that i even read every book they brought into the house; and that's how i came to know about the doings of the silver fox patrol, and who the eight lads were constituting that branch of the scouts. give me your hand, mr. scout-master; i'm proud to know you, sure i am; and i hope you'll send a written word back home to the two ten-year old twins, who know all about what you fellows have been doing in the blue ridge, up in maine, and even as far away as the rocky mountains." the boys were almost stunned by this remarkable information; but they hastened to accept the hand offered them, and received a hearty squeeze in return. "my name is stebbens, and the boys are daniel and luther," continued the officer who seemed not quite mind the disappointment of failing to effect an important capture, when the little adventure had give him a story to carry back home to those twins he thought so much of. "well all this is mighty interesting, john," said the man with the gruff voice, and who seemed to be the leader of the revenue men; "but we mustn't lose any more time here. the sea is nasty, but our boat can stand it, and we know where tricky cranston is apt to turn up before morning, not ten miles away; so perhaps we'd better be saying good-night to these lads, and starting out again." he, as well as the third man, insisted on also shaking hands all around before departing, and with such good will that bumpus was rubbing his fingers for quite some time afterwards, to get the numb feeling out of the same. but then no one found any fault; in fact they were thrilled by the knowledge that their exploits had been read by other scouts, who cherished a sort of friendly feeling for the members of the silver fox patrol, just from learning about their adventures in a book or so. they did not feel at all sleepy after the three revenue men had said good-bye, and vanished in the dark night. "what's the use pushing out there again, and dropping the mud-hook overboard, when we can tie up so nicely right here?" remarked step hen. "sure," echoed giraffe, "and then, in the morning i'll show you i haven't forgotten how to make the finest fire you ever heard tell about. oh i some pumpkins about that same game, ain't i, bumpus? you ought to know, because you saw me make one when we was nigh about froze to death up there in maine, and didn't have a single match along with us." "well, anyhow, wait till morning," said thad, knowing that once the tall scout got started on his favorite hobby, there was no way of stopping him until he had the fever satisfied. giraffe had once made up his mind that he could make a fire in the primitive fashion by using a little bow, and a revolving stick. once this trick is learned and it can usually be accomplished in a minute or two; but most boys find themselves unable to master the feat, and give up in despair after long trying. the tall scout had persisted even when he met with all manner of discouragements. sometimes, just when he seemed on the point of success, bumpus would stumble over him, and end the attempt; then an alarm would be sounded when he had gotten his tinder to smoking; and again he lose out. but in the end he had mastered the secret, and ever afterwards it was one of his proudest accomplishments; so that giraffe always carried that little bow, and some dry tinder along, whenever he left camp, even though it would have been muck easier to put some matches in his pocket. of course, as they sat there for a while longer, after the boat had been securely tied up to the shore, the talk was mostly about smugglers. each of the boys told all they had ever heard about, such slippery customers; and it added to the interest of the occasion to know that they had just been mistaken for a notorious character, for whom the government revenue men were on the watch. "all the same," remarked bumpus, complacently, "i ain't sorry it happened, because you see, only for their mistake we never'd aheard about them twins, daniel and luther stebbens. i'm glad you wrote out that message for 'em, thad; and after we get back in cranford i'm meaning to send 'em my picture. their daddy said they'd like it the worst kind; and come to think of it, i've got a few showing me astanding with my gun acovering them two bad men as had captured me out in the big timber, davy having snapped the picture off on the spot. mebbe they'll like that!" he fell to musing over the lively scenes that had accompanied the adventure covered by this episode; and paid no further attention to the rest of the boys, as they continued to exhaust the subject of the smuggler fraternity. finally, all of them admitted that they felt sleepy; and since they no longer had reason to experience anything boarding on alarm, it was decided on the whole not to bother keeping watch. already the hour must be near midnight, and they needed sleep, so as to be ready to take up duties of another day when morning broke. accordingly, each of them was apportioned a place where he could wedge in and in some way manage to obtain the rest of which he was in such need. bumpus, being so round, and requiring much more space than any one of the six, was given a chance to roll over in the wider territory close to the doors of the hunting cabin, which were not to be closed, as the boys felt they would need air. he could sit up, and look around, at any time he happened to be awake; but as bumpus was usually a sound sleeper, none of them expected that he would avail himself of this privilege until they scrambled over his bundled-up figure at daylight. in that cove at the mouth of the little creek it was as quiet and peaceful as any heart could wish. let the wind and the waves hold high carnival outside, nothing gave promise of disturbing the slumber of the tired cruisers. an hour, two of them and more, crept by, and everything remained as calm as when the scouts folded their blankets about them like indian warriors, and squeezed in where they had been apportioned. the clouds had broken, and the moon was shining brightly in the sky overhead when bumpus, being awakened by some sort of dream, suddenly sat upright, digging his knuckles into his eyes, as if hardly able to believe that he was not safe and sound in his own bed at home. a nasty snarl struck his ear, and gave him a shock, so that he instantly found himself wide-awake, and looking around to see what had caused the sound. what he saw must have aroused the fat scout not a little, for immediately his voice was heard in the land, arousing the balance of the sleepers, and doubtless thrilling them through and through. "stop thief! here, let that alone, i tell you! wake up everybody, and do something, can't you? he's getting away with my lovely trout, i tell you. hey! giraffe, ain't you agoing to save your breakfast?" chapter xii a call to breakfast every one came tumbling out in a great hurry. the moon was so situated that the forepart of the boat was somewhat in the shadow; and on this account they could not see plainly, save that there was some sort of an animal crouching there. as bumpus had so loudly wailed that it was trying to carry off his prize trout, which had been left hanging in the air until needed at breakfast time, the rest of the boys understood the situation pretty well. immediately they started to shout, and wave their arms, as well as hurl every sort of thing they could lay hands on. naturally enough this proved too much for even the bravest wild beast; and giving a savage snarl the thing suddenly bounded ashore, and was lost to view. they had just a last glimpse of a shadowy figure skulking off along the sandy beach near by. "oh! tell me, did he get away with it?" cried bumpus; and to hear the pain which he threw into these words one would have though a priceless treasure was involved; and so it was, the biggest speckled trout he had ever caught in all his life. giraffe scrambled forward, waving his arms in order to discourage any beast that might think to attack him, and "shooing" at a vigorous rate. "brace up, bumpus!" he called out. "is it safe?" demanded the fat scout, joyously. "yes, he didn't dare carry it off when we got to shouting so lively; and here's your trout, but i reckon we had better take care to make it secure next time. these cats can climb some, and that's right." "was it really a wildcat?" asked step hen, curiously; just as though the beast had seemed so large to his excited fancy that he would have felt safe in calling it a panther. "looked mighty much that way," admitted allan, who ought to know the breed, as considerable of his younger life had been spent up in the adirondacks, and in maine, where he must have seen many a specimen of the feline tribe. "i thought at first it was a tiger," bumpus admitted, faintly; at which there was a little laugh all around, for they could easily understand how a fellow's fears might magnify things, when suddenly aroused, and with only that deceptive moonlight to see by. "whatever it was, and we'll try and make sure in the morning," remarked thad, "it's gone now." "but it may come back, after smelling of my fine trout," bumpus observed, seriously; "and rather than run any chance, i think i'll have to sit up, and play sentry the balance of the night." "joke!" chuckled giraffe, chuckling again. "huh! mebbe, now, you think i couldn't do that same?" remonstrated bumpus. "i know i'm a good sound sleeper, which fact i can't deny; but then there's such a thing as rising to an occasion, you see." "yes," scoffed the tall scout, "if we depended on you staying awake, chances are we'd have no trout for breakfast to-morrow morning." "no need of anything like that," remarked the scout-master; "because we can fix it so that no wildcat could get that fish, let him try as hard as he wants. just you leave it with me, bumpus, and i'll guarantee that we have fish for breakfast, and without anybody having to stay up either, or lose another minute's sleep." he tied a cord to the dangling trout, once more placed where it had been before, and then announced that he meant to fasten the other end to his arm. if anything pulled at the fish it would telegraph the fact down to him; and as thad took the double-barreled shotgun to bed with him, and occupied the place rumpus had vacated, they understood what the answer was going to be should he be aroused. but evidently the beast thought discretion the better part of valor, for he did not come aboard again that night. possibly the shouts, and the whooping of the boys had given him all the excitement he could stand. he liked fish very much; as do all of the cat species, but if he must have a feast of trout it looked as though he would have to procure the same in some other way than stealing it from those on board the chippeway belle. strange to say bumpus was the first to crawl out; and his labored progress over his comrades evoked a continual series of grunts and complaints. "hurrah! it's still there, and we ain't going to be cheated out of our treat after all!" he was heard to cry, as he gained the open air. "well, here's the first case on record of that fellow ever getting awake ahead of the rest of the bunch," said step hen. "yes, and he mighty near flattened me into a pancake when he crawled on top of me to get to the doors," grunted giraffe. "say, where's my other shoe? anybody seen my leather around? i bet you now some fellow just grabbed it up, and tossed the same to that pesky old cat last night; and if so, how'm i ever to limp around with only one shoe for my both feet; because some of the things went into the water, for i heard the splash?" "if anybody threw it, you did yourself, step hen," asserted giraffe, not liking this thing of being accused of things promiscuously; "because i saw something that looked mighty much like a shoe, in your hand when you crawled out." "then why didn't, you tell me about it, giraffe?" complained the other, with a doleful groan. "i think you're about as mean as you can be, to let a poor fellow in his excitement do such a thing." "why, however was i to know?" said the tall scout, chuckling as though it struck him as a joke that step hen, in his sudden anxiety to scare the prowler away, should have thrown his own shoe at the cat. "besides, i had troubles of my own, just about that time, let me tell you. but mebbe you can find your old shoe again; because the water ain't so very deep up ahead there." "no need to bother," sang out bumpus, who was taking his trout down tenderly, and examining it to see how much damage the claws of the intruder had done, if any, "because there the shoe is right now, on shore, and all right." that gave step hen reason to say he knew he could never have been silly enough to cast his shoe in such a way as to hurl it overboard; but all the same he was pleased to be able to recover it in a dry condition, after all. "who'll clean it while i get a fire started ashore?" asked giraffe, presently, when they had finished their dressing. "no hurry," remarked thad; "for while the sun's getting ready to come up, and the storm petered out after all, i guess the lake's a bit too rough for us to go out for some time yet. such a big body of water can kick up some sea when it gets in the humor; and some of the party don't seem to hanker after that rising and falling motion." bumpus himself decided to do the last honors to his "noble capture," and taking the fish ashore, with a hunting knife that had a keen edge, he looked for a good place to sit down, on a rock bordering the little beach. here he kept industriously at work for quite some time. meanwhile the fire was a big success, for giraffe certainly was a marvel when it came to knowing all there was about making them. he had found just the finest hole to serve as the bed of his cooking fire, where a body of red embers would after a little while invite them to place their frying-pan and coffee-pot on the iron grating they carried for the purpose, and which was really the gridiron-like contrivance belonging to a cast-off stove's oven. "i say, thad!" bumpus was heard calling, after he had had plenty of time to finish his job with the trout. "what do you want now, bumpus?" replied the scout-master, cheerily. "come down here, won't you, and settle something for me." so thad hastened to accommodate him; and several of the other fellows followed at his heels, being consumed by curiosity, perhaps; or it might be they suspected something of the truth, and wished to hear thad's decision in the matter. "now what?" asked the scout-master, as he reached the spot. "i wish you'd tell me what sort of a critter that was last night," bumpus remarked, as he pointed down near his feet; "because he ran along here when he skedaddled off; and you can see the prints as plain as anything." "i should say it was a wildcat; but let's ask allan, to make sure," replied the patrol leader, and upon reaching the spot, allan instantly declared the same thing. at that bumpus appeared to be satisfied; and as the trout was now ready for the pan they adjourned to where the fire was waiting, with a hungry looking cook in readiness to get things going. just as they anticipated, that trout was elegant--no other word bumpus could conjure up would begin to do justice to the feast they had that morning. and the proud captor of the prize cast many a look in the direction of his rival, which of course the envious giraffe construed to mean; "see what i can do when i set my mind on a job; and get busy yourself." but then giraffe had just had a pretty generous second portion of the salmon-colored fish steak, and was in no humor to get huffy. he did start in right after breakfast to get several lines out, and attended to the same assiduously all morning. between the busy workers they managed to pull in five fish, of which bumpus took two. so that thus far the score was even, as regards numbers, though the fat scout was still "high notch" when the question of size was concerned. "i see that before we get back home we'll all have swelled heads," thad remarked, with a broad, smile; and upon the others demanding to know what he meant, he went on to say: "why, don't you know, scientists unite in declaring that fish is the greatest brain food going; so if these fellows keep on loading us down with trout and white fish and every other kind that lives in this big lake, why, our hats will soon be too small for our enlarged craniums." "oh! we can afford to take the chances of that!" laughed allan. as the wind had gone down, and the waves with it to a considerable extent, it was decided that they might make a start after an early lunch. thad consulted his government survey charts, and marked a place that he believed would make them a good harbor, and which they ought to reach with any reasonable luck. this being settled they got underway about half-past eleven; and when the little cruiser left the shelter of the cove, and once more breasted the rising and falling waves, bumpus shook his head dismally, and loudly hoped he would not once more have to spend all his time feeding the fishes. but his fears proved groundless, for they had apparently become used to the motion of the waves, and not one of them became seasick again that day. chapter xiii up against it again "everything is lovely, and the goose hangs high! this makes the fifth day since we started out; and things seem to be going along right smoothly at the old stand, don't they, fellows?" giraffe asked this question. he was lying on his back on top of the hunting-cabin of the little cruiser, taking what he termed a "sun bath;" but which some of his chums always called "being too lazy too move." "and so far none of us have felt the least bit seasick again," remarked step hen, with what sounded like a fervent note of thanksgiving in his voice, as though of all the mean things he could imagine, that of feeling a sinking sensation at the pit of the stomach excelled. "and i'm still leading giraffe by three fish," declared bumpus; "besides having caught the biggest fish and the longest one in the bargain. better wake up, and get a move on you, giraffe, or be counting on doing all the drudgery when we have that blow-out supper on our return home." "i ain't worrying any, bumpus," lazily returned the other; "fact is, it tickles me just to see you hustle around in your great fishing stunt. sure you're getting peaked, and as thin as anything, after such unusual exertions. i wouldn't be surprised if some show offered you a job as the living skeleton, if this thing keeps up much longer, because you're fading away right along." bumpus looked himself all over, and if there was a shade of anxiety on his rosy face it did not stay there long. "i only wished what you said was half-way true, giraffe," he sighed; "but seems like nothing is ever agoing to take off two pounds from my weight. i can't honestly see where there's a mite of a change; and i know you can't neither. stop your kidding, and get your lines out again. i had a sure-enough nibble right then, and if you don't look out, i'll be pulling in a dandy fish." "wake me up when you do, and i'll start in. you get 'em worked-up like, and then i'll show you how to do the trick. up to now i've just been playing possum, you know, but look out whenever i do get going." "bah! who's afraid?" scoffed the fat scout, finding a use for his favorite expression, to show his contempt for the threat of giraffe. "but we've gone over a heap of ground during the five days we've been afloat on this inland sea, haven't we, boys?" remarked step hen. "i'd like to, know why you call it ground, when, we've been moving over water all the time?" observed davy, who was not as happy as most of his chums, because this way of living offered him no chance to climb trees, and hang from limbs, as was his favorite habit; and therefore time hung heavy on his hands, so that he grew restless. "oh! well, it doesn't make any difference that i can see," replied step hen; "a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, they say. but we have covered a heap of distance, you'll admit, davy." "yes, and had lots of fun in the bargain," allan put in. "thanks to the weather man for keeping things nice for us, and not allowing any storm along," suggested bumpus. "well, you may have reason to change your tune soon, old fellow," warned giraffe with an ominous shake of his head. "now, what makes you go and say that, giraffe? do you know anything, or are you just trying to bother me on general principles?" demanded the stout boy, aggressively. "well, perhaps you didn't know it," remarked the other, carelessly, "but latterly i've taken a notion to study to become a weather prophet. on the sly i've been getting all the information about goose bones, and all sorts of signs, wherever i could strike the same. then i've studied up how the fellows down at washington make their guesses, and i'm getting there right smart. why, every morning now, for the last three days i've told myself it was agoing to be fair, and she was, sure pop. understand that, bumpus?" "i thought something was bothering you, and keeping you from getting as many fish as i did; but what about this morning, giraffe, did it look any different to you; and is the good weather acoming to an end?" asked bumpus. "the signs all pointed to a change this morning," replied the other. "now, don't expect me to go into particulars, because there ain't any need of more'n one weather sharp in our crowd. and say, just cast your eye over there to the southwest; don't you see that low bank of clouds along the horizon? well, when they get to moving up on us, we're bound to have, high winds, and p'raps a regular howler of a storm." bumpus' face assumed a serious look as he turned quickly to the scout-master. "what do you say, thad?" he queried, for it was never possible to know whether giraffe were working off one of his little practical jokes or not, he had such a way of looking very solemn, even while chuckling inwardly. "i don't count much on his knowledge of telling in the morning what sort of a day it's going to be," replied the other, with a shake of the head; "but what he says about those clouds is as near facts as giraffe ever gets." "then there is a storm bound to swoop down on us?" demanded bumpus, as he cast a nervous glance around at the watery expanse; for they were far out on the lake. "i'm afraid we'll have a rough night of it," thad confessed; "but if we're only safe in a harbor by evening, we won't need to bother our heads any about that." "then we won't have any trouble about making that safe harbor, will we?" continued bumpus, who could be very positive and persistent whenever he wanted to know anything, so that it was a difficult thing to shunt him aside. "if the engine holds out we ought to be there by five, i expect," thad answered. bumpus transferred his attention to the working motor; and his look of anxiety increased. "seems to me you've been pottering more'n a little with that thing today, thad," he went on to say. "yes, and right now it don't work decent," observed step hen. "it misses an explosion every third one, and acts like it might go out of business any minute on us, that's right, fellows." some of the rest began to look sober at this. giraffe, who had thought to have a joke at the expense of his plump rival, no longer lay there, sprawled upon the roof of the hunting cabin of the launch; but sat up to observe the singular actions of the engine for himself. nor did he, appear to get much consolation from what he discovered. "i declare now if it ain't a fact, boys," he said, seriously. "she acts mighty like she wanted to throw up the sponge, and let us hustle to get ashore the best way we could. of all the contrary things commend me to a balky engine on a cruiser. and dr. hobbs was thinkin' his friend was doing us the greatest favor going to loan him this old trap, that like's not he keeps heavily insured, in the hopes that some fine day she'll go down, when he can buy a newer and better, model with the money he collects." "oh! i wouldn't say that, if i were you, giraffe,"' remarked thad. "from the way the gentleman wrote to dr. hobbs i'm sure he thought he was doing us a favor; and you know it's bad manners to look a gift horse in the mouth. if he was charging us a round sum for the use of the boat we, might say something; but outside of the gasoline we consume we don't have to put out a cent." "but do you really expect the rickety old engine'll go back on us before we get to that harbor you're heading for?" demanded bumpus. "how can i tell?" thad replied. "i'm doing everything i know of to coax it to be good. if anybody has a scheme for helping along, the rest of us would be glad to listen to the same, and take it up too, if there was a ghost of a show that we could profit by doing that." apparently nobody did have any idea of bettering conditions as they now prevailed; for not a word came in reply, to thad's request for several minutes. during this time the boys sat there and watched the queer actions of the engine that thad was bending over, now doing this and again that in order to see whether he could not obtain more profitable results from the laboring motor. "i s'pose now," bumpus finally did muster up courage enough to say, "if it came to the worst, and you saw we couldn't make that harbor, why, you might head her on to the beach, so that we could get ashore, no matter what, happened to the old ship?" "yes, how about that, thad?" questioned step hen, as though somehow a thought along the same lines might have been passing through his mind just then. thad shook his head in the negative. "that would be a risky proceeding, at any time," he observed, "when you consider that the shore along here is composed of sharp-pointed rocks, and that if there was any sea on at all we'd probably be wrecked long before we could land. that must mean we'd all be thrown into the surf, and perhaps lose our lives trying to swim ashore among the rocks. no we'll have to try some other plan than that, or else stick to the boat, and hope the storm won't be so very bad after all." "well, one thing sure," said davy jones, who had not taken any part in this conversation thus far, "the clouds are coming along right speedy. since i first took note they've crept up till they look twice as big now." this news was not pleasant for them to hear, though every one realized that the speaker was not "drawing the long bow" when he made the assertion. yes, they could almost note the rising of the dark mass. if it kept on as it was doing, inside of half an hour the heavens would be obscured above, and perhaps the forerunner of the gale be upon them. bumpus quickly started to pulling in the various fish lines he had been trailing along after the boat, in hopes of meeting up with a hungry fish that might be taken aboard, and not only afford a meal for the crowd, but give him a good chance to crow over his rival fisherman once more, "rub it in," as he called it. thad got out his charts, and the whole lot bent over, while he pointed out where they were just then, and the distant harbor he had hoped to reach. "if it comes to the worst," ventured allan, "there's that lone island ahead of us, sturgeon island it's called on the chart, and we might get in the lee of that." chapter xiv the squall "sturgeon island, did you say, allan?" remarked step hen. "sounds like it might be a good fishing place. if we happened to land there, perhaps bumpus and giraffe might manage to do some big stunts, pulling in sturgeon. can anybody tell me what sort of a fish that is, anyway? i never saw one, or a fellow that caught one, either." "oh! they grow to big size, and are caught in the great lakes in this country. they take sturgeon eggs i believe to make this high-priced stuff they use in the tony clubs and call caviar, or something like that," observed bumpus, who really did know considerable about fish and fishing, though of course he did not claim to be a fly fisherman, capable of casting seventy feet or more. but the subject did not interest any of them just then. the way that bank of ominous clouds kept advancing higher and higher soon kept their attention riveted in that quarter. "about how far away from our harbor are we, thad?" asked step hen. "something like fifteen miles, i should say," came the reply. giraffe looked at the balky engine, and shook his head. "then we'd better make up our minds right here and now that we'll never get to that place this day," he said, positively; and there was no one bold enough to accept of the plain challenge his tones conveyed. "that means our only hope lies in sturgeon island, don't it?" bumpus asked. "looks that way," thad told him. "but that don't seem so far on the map; you, just put your finger on the same, thad; and if she's close enough to do that, hadn't we ought to see that island, ahead somewhere?" "suppose you take the glasses and look," suggested the pilot, who was busy with the engine that had stopped short again, and needed coaxing to take up its burden once more, "it's rather hazy, you'll notice, so that you couldn't be sure of anything more than three miles away, i reckon; but tell us what lies de ahead, will you, bumpus?" a minute later, and the fat scout cried out in considerable excitement: "i can see land ahead, sure i can, fellows!" "that must be the island, then," rejoined thad, busily engaged. "our only hope, so we had ought to call it our island," davy went on to say, as he deliberately took the glasses from bumpus, and glued the smaller end of the same to his own eyes. then in turn everybody but thad had to have a chance to look; and in the end it was the consensus of opinion that bumpus had spoken only the truth when he said there were positive evidences of some sort of land ahead. "oh! if you could only get that old junk-shop engine to working for half an hour, thad, we'd have plenty of time to circle around to the leeward side of that island, and then we could get ashore, no matter what happened to the belle," bumpus faltered, as he watched the skipper still working as rapidly as he could. all at once the machinery started up again, when thad gave the crank a whirl. "bully for you, thad!" cried davy, slapping the other heartily on the back; and then turning to look at the black clouds following after them, as though he would give fair warning that they meant to make a stiff fight for the opportunity of finding safety. "go slow!" warned the other; "don't be too sure, because she's limping already, and i'd hate to risk my reputation in saying that we could depend on that thing five minutes at a stretch," and from the way thad said this it was evident that he had by now almost lost all faith in the motor. "looks like it might be a race between the storm, and our getting behind sturgeon island," said giraffe, as he turned alternately from stem to stern of the boat, evidently trying to figure out what sort of chance they might have for winning out in the end. but they knew that it all depended on the engine; if it worked as well as it was doing right now they could surely pass over the few miles that separated them from the island; and once in its lee it would not be so difficult to gain the shore. neither the wild wind, nor the gathering waves could disturb them, so long as the storm continued to come out of the south-west, for they were now cruising along the northern shore of the great lake, where the dominion of canada held sway, and not uncle sam. so they watched it anxiously, and every time it missed an explosion bumpus would utter a grunt or a groan; only to catch new inspiration and hope when he found that it was a false alarm, and that they were still going right along. thad was doing everything he knew how to encourage the engine to keep up the good work; but he had already made up his mind to be surprised at nothing. there was a possibility that it might keep working fairly well as long as they wanted, in order to find safety in the shelter of the island; and then again it was apt to let down at any minute. thad, however, was not the one to show the white feather. he knew that there were several of his chums who might not be constituted just the same as he and allan, and giraffe--bumpus and davy and step hen; and his seeming cheerfulness was partly assumed in order to buoy their drooping spirits up; as scout-master thad felt that he had many duties to perform, and one of these was to instill a feeling of confidence in the breasts of his comrades. "i can see a white streak on the water away back there!" announced giraffe, presently. "that's where you've got the advantage of the rest of us, with your long neck, and that way of stretching the same," complained step hen; and determined to meet the other on his own grounds he clambered to the top of the cabin, where he could use the glasses he had taken from the hand of giraffe. "it's the first blow of the squall, as sure as anything," he immediately reported; which news made bumpus turn pale; for he had not forgotten what he experienced on that other occasion. "coming racing after us, like hot cakes!" added giraffe. "hadn't we better get them life preservers out, and fastened on under our arms, thad? then, if so be the old tub did take a notion to turn turtle, we'd have some show for our money." "make him stop talking that way, thad, won't you?" urged bumpus; "he just does it to make me have a bad feeling down here," and he rubbed his projecting stomach mournfully as he spoke. "no, i'm sorry to tell you he isn't saying anything too strong, bumpus," the skipper of the chippeway belle assured him; and after that poor bumpus had nothing more to say; only he clutched the cork and canvas life preserver which was handed out to him, and with trembling hands proceeded to adjust the same under his arms; though it was a very snug fit, even if giraffe had given him the largest in the lot under the seats. "if anything happens, remember," said thad, in all seriousness, as he watched the rapid way in which that ominous white line on the water was racing after them; "all of you try your best to land on the island. we're getting closer all the while to the same, and there seems to be some shore for us to crawl up, because, with the rocks i can see little patches of gravelly beach. keep your eyes fixed on that, and do everything you can to get there in case of a wreck." "wreck!" muttered bumpus, as though talking to himself, as he often did when in trouble. "didn't i dream i was on a ship that went to pieces in storm; and first thing i knew i had to swim for it, and me knowing so little about doing that. oh! i hope nothing happens, and that we ran swing around back of that bully old island soon!" "so say we all of us, bumpus," giraffe echoed; and he did not mean to draw the attention of the others to the shaky condition of the fat scout, because, if the truth were told, every one of the six boys would be found to be quivering with the dreadful suspense, while waiting for that forerunner of the squall to strike them. the engine still continued to keep them moving, although to the excited imagination of some of the boys they seemed to be almost standing still. "what do you think of it now, thad?" asked step hen, with the manner of one who hoped for good tidings, yet feared the worst. "i don't just like the looks of that first rush of wind," replied the pilot; "of course if we pull through that we may be able to hold out, and gradually force a way around the island. i'm trying to head as near as i dare, because if once we're forced past, there's nothing left for us, you understand?" yes, they could grasp that point well enough, and step hen even besought the one at the wheel to work in a little closer. "better take the chances of being thrown on the island than to be carried past by a fluke of the wind!" he declared, and thad believed so much the same way that he did change their course slightly. the boys had brought out what most they wanted to save in case of a wreck. one carried his clothes bag, with the blanket fastened to the same; another had the double-barreled shotgun; while giraffe made sure to see that his fishing tackle was safely tucked in with his belongings, which he had made up into as small a compass as possible. as for bumpus, he had gathered everything he owned, and looked as though he might be a walking peddler trying to dispose of his wares to the country people. on the other hand there was step hen who did not appear to care an atom about his clothes and his blanket; but he had managed to wrap something around the owl, and was all the while gripping the bird tightly; though bumpus said he was silly to risk his own life, when all he had to do was to cut the cord he had put around the cloth, unfasten the chain that gripped the bird's leg, and give him a toss into the air, when jim would look out for himself. "wish i could fly away as easy as he can," bumpus wound up with; but in spite of all these suggestions the obstinate step hen still persisted in holding on to his prisoner, as though he meant to accept every chance rather than let him go. "hold fast, everybody, for here she comes!" called allan, presently. the puttering of the escape connection with the engine could no longer be heard, because of the roar made by the rushing wind, and the splash of the curling water, as the squall leaped forward and rapidly overtook them. "oh; my stars!" bumpus was heard to call out, as he clung to something with all his might and main; for the little cruiser seemed to be lifted high in the air, and carried forward on the top of a giant billow, only to sink down in the trough of the sea with a heavy motion; but still keeping head on. but in that moment of time thad brewster knew that the fate of the boat was effectually sealed; because the engine had given its last throb and they were now a helpless, drifting object in the midst of those angry waters! chapter xv clever work imagine the horror of the six scouts when they realized that they were now completely at the mercy of the storm, since the last barrier seemed to have given way when the treacherous engine broke down. even brave-hearted thad brewster felt that their case was desperate: and he knew in his secret heart that if they managed to escape a serious situation it must be through a narrow gap. at the same time thad always made it a point to put on a good face when up against trouble. this was of course partly done because of his comrades, since, as the scout-master he felt more responsibility than fell to the share of the rest. bumpus had been hanging on like a good fellow. he greatly feared lest some sudden violent lurch of the boat toss him headlong into that yeasty sea; which he was gazing upon with terror. at the same time bumpus had been closely observing the actions of the eccentric motor, and was one of the first to discover that it had petered out, giving up the ghost completely, as giraffe would have said. "oh! what can we do now, thad?" shouted the stout scout, as usual turning to the quick-witted one in an emergency; but for once even thad was at his wit's ends to know what to attempt, the situation was that desperate. "everybody hold on!" was all thad called back. there was hardly any need of this injunction, for each fellow had managed to brace himself, so that unless the boat actually "turned turtle," or at least was thrown on her beam ends, they could not be dislodged. thad was straining his eyesight as best he could, endeavoring to see ahead. the furious wind of course made this a difficult task, because it not only sent the waves high, but as these broke into foam along their crests, this was actually cut off as with an invisible knife, and blown away in the shape of flying spud; so that the very air was surcharged with a fine mist, rendering it hard to distinguish anything fifty feet off. of course it was the island that the young leader was striving to see all this while. he knew as well as anything that the one slim hope remaining to them must rest upon their chance of finding some sort of shelter behind this oasis in the watery waste. at one time it had been thad's hope that if the worst came they might find themselves thrown on the windward side of sturgeon island. now he knew that this had been rendered an utter impossibility; because the storm had swept down upon them so rapidly after their course was changed that there had been no time for the cruiser to reach a position that would bring about any such result. and then besides, the surf must be dashing high over that exposed end of the rocky island, so that even though they struck, it might be on an outer reef. in such a case who could say whether any of the boys would manage to overcome the terrible difficulties lying in wait, and be thrown up on a sandy beach, rather than dashed ruthlessly against the cruel rocks? so thad crouched there near the bow, holding on desperately, and hoping for he hardly knew what, save that he seemed to have an inspiration there presently would come a slender chance for them to survive the blow. "there's the island!" yelled giraffe, pointing to the right. thad had seen it before the other thus called attention to the fact of their being so near safety, yet unable to quite reach it. "but we're going along past it!" shrieked bumpus. "thad, ain't there any way we could work in? oh! think quick, please, or, it'll be too late!" they were moving quite fast, with wind and wave joining forces to sweep the little helpless craft along. just as bumpus had said, unless something could be done immediately it must surely be too late; for once they left the island behind, the whole immense inland sea would be before them; and their hopes of surviving the storm must sink too close upon the zero mark. thad was thinking as fast as he could; indeed, his very brain seemed to be on fire, such was the mental energy he was expending. but really there was nothing in the wide world that could be done then. true, they had push-poles, but doubtless the depth of water would have rendered these utterly useless, even had they started to handle them. nothing was to be hoped for in the direction of the engine, since that had collapsed in the most cowardly fashion at the first swoop of the blow. what then? thad had made one little discovery that gave a slender promise of succor; and it is strange upon what a small foundation hopes can be built at such a time as this. he saw that the wind had shifted just a little; but this was enough to carry the drifting launch a trifle toward the side of the island. now, it did not stand to reason that they would strike, no matter how long that shore turned out to be; because there was enough current to sheer them off; but when the lower end of the island was reached, thad really believed there might be a sudden inward sweep of the water that had been so long held at bay by the rocky shore. there always is more or less of this eddy at the end of an island in a river; and upon a large lake in our country it may be found as a rule toward the eastern terminus, since the prevailing storms come from the west, southwest and northwest. the only question with the anxious lad was whether this eddy would have sufficient "pull" to drag them in behind the island. upon that one small possibility rested all their hopes. thad knew that possibly he and his chums might render some assistance at this critical moment, if so be they were ready. "allan--giraffe, come here!" he called out. the two scouts heard him above all the racket of the elements, which, what with the howling of the wind, the breaking of the waves against the boat, and the roar of the surf on the exposed end of the island, amounted to a tremendous volume of sound. "ay! ay!" giraffe was heard to cry in return, as he proceeded to make his way forward, clinging to every object that offered a stable hold, because the wind seemed trying its level best to tear him away. bumpus also heard the call, but as his name had not been mentioned he dared not take it upon himself to move so much as one of his tightly braced feet. he seemed to feel that if he did so it would be at the risk of his life; and the thought of being cast adrift on that raging sea filled him with actual terror. could those boys have had a vivid picture of that scene just then, they would never have been able to look at it again without shivering; because their faces must certainly have expressed the sensations that filled their hearts to overflowing. but davy, as the official photographer of the patrol, was too much concerned just then in holding on, to dream of making any use of his vest pocket kodak; nor would it have been possible to have obtained any sort of view under such stormy conditions as surrounded them. "what is it, thad?" giraffe asked this question as he and the other scout managed to come close to where the patrol leader clung. "we've got a little chance when we get to the end of the island, don't you see?" thad bawled, making use of one hand to serve in lieu of a speaking trumpet. "we're getting closer all the time, and will just skim past the last rock. and then is our chance, when we strike the eddy there always is beyond an island. do you understand?" both scouts nodded their heads violently, and giraffe called out: "what d'ye want us to do, thad?" "we must get the setting poles out, and be ready to try and push with all our might and main when the time comes. everything depends on that!" thad replied, also, at the top of his strong, young voice. "but it may be too deep!" objected giraffe; though at the same time fumbling with the rope that fastened one of the push-poles in question to the deck alongside the cabin roof. "we've got to take the chances of that," thad went on; "and besides, you know it always shallows where the sand is washed around the point of an island. hurry, fellows, because we must be nearly there!" he lent a hand himself, for he saw that giraffe was meeting with more or less difficulty in releasing the pole toward which he had turned his attention; though had the conditions been different, the boy might not have had the slightest trouble about getting it free. the boat was pitching so furiously, that he could only use one hand, because it was necessary for him to grasp some hold, lest he be tossed overboard, as a bucking bronco hurls an unsuspecting rider from the saddle by a quick upward movement. hardly had they secured possession of the two long and stout poles than the end of the island hove in sight. they were very close to it now; indeed, it almost seemed as though an agile fellow might have made a flying leap, and with half-way decent luck manage to alight on the sentinel rock that guarded this point. but no one tried that desperate game; in fact, it was doubtful whether it even occurred to davy or step hen before they had been carried past, and the widening gulf rendered such a movement impossible of accomplishment. but the three lads toward the bow of the drifting boat were desperately engaged in trying to swerve the cruiser more and more behind the island, ere they got so far that they would lose the benefits of the half-way calm condition existing in the lee of the shore. fortunately the water did prove to be fairly shallow at this point, just as the scout-master had predicted; for vast quantities of sand had been deposited there from time to time through such storms as the present one, and also the melting of the ice that drifted there during each breaking-up season for ages past. the poles easily reached bottom and secured a firm hold there, so that the boys were enabled to throw their full strength upon the other ends. and the chippeway bell was thus shoved around, so that the anchor, which was watched by step hen and davy jones, could be easily thrown ahead, thus preventing their drifting further away from the friendly shore. and this having been accomplished the three scouts were almost ready to drop down with fatigue, for they had worked strenuously. chapter xvi marooned "hurrrah!" shouted bumpus, who had been so worked up during this struggle between his comrades and the greed of the elements, that he had hardly taken time to breathe. davy, and step hen too, seemed ready to throw up their hats, and cheer with exultation because of their wonderful deliverance from continued perils. all of them were pretty well soaked, though it had not rained at all; so that their bedraggled condition must have come from the water that was in the air, and an occasional wave that slapped over the boat when it broke. although they had apparently secured a firm grip on an anchorage, and it would seem as though their present troubles were over, thad did not sink down like his two fellow laborers, to pant, and rest up. he proceeded to scramble aft, for he had made an alarming discovery, and wished to start an investigation at once. the boat sat much lower in the water than he had ever known it to do; and this circumstance seemed alarming. one look into the cabin told him the reason, nor was thad very much surprised to find that it was already knee deep in water. "how did this come in here, fellows?" he asked davy and step hen, who from their positions might be expected to know; "did you notice many waves pour over the stern of the boat?" "n-no, hardly any water at all came in, thad," replied step hen, astonished when he came to look into the partly submerged cabin for himself. "she kept riding like a duck, and was ahead of the waves most all the time," was the testimony davy added; which might be set down as the first words of praise given to the little craft thus far during the cruise. "why, goodness gracious, thad, we must be sinking!" bellowed the amazed bumpus, also craning his fat neck the best way he could, in order to peer into the cabin. "just what she is doing," replied the scoutmaster, composedly; because they were now in comparatively shallow water, out of the reach of the storm; and it did not matter so much what happened after this. "sprung a leak, mebbe?" suggested giraffe, joining the group. "wouldn't be surprised if that was what happened," allan added, as, he too took a survey of the flooded interior. "then, like as not she'll go down right under us, after a bit, thad!" exclaimed bumpus, in new excitement, as he contemplated the distance still separating them from the point of the island, and mentally figured whether he could float to safety with that life preserver on, and one of his chums towing him. "she will, and that's a dead sure thing," giraffe told him. "we ought to get her in closer before that happens, hadn't, we, fellows?" step hen wanted to know. "we've got to try that same, and right away!" declared thad, as he stooped to once more; pick up a push-pole. "here, you step, hen and davy, take hold in our place, because you're fresh, and ought to do better work," giraffe remarked, as he thrust his pole into the hands of the former. now, under ordinary conditions step hen might have wanted to know by what authority the lengthy, scout presumed to order him around, when they were of the same rank in the patrol; but he realized the force of what giraffe had said, and hence accepted the pole without a murmur, starting to work immediately; while, davy did the same with the one thad allowed him to take. "when you get the boat part way up toward where the anchor holds," observed the scout-master, "we'll drag the mudhook in, and stand ready to throw it out again. by pulling on the cable after the anchor gets a firm hold on bottom, it's possible to claw the boat along foot by foot. i've done that same many a time; and it'll help out more than a little." they speedily found that thad spoke truly, and under the influence of poles as well as the anchor drag the chippeway belle began to approach the shore, much to the delight of bumpus. when the fat scout, closely observing the setting poles as they were dipped repeatedly into the water, discovered that they struck bottom in a depth of not more than four feet, he was ready to shout with joy. that meant it could not be over his head; and if the worst came, he might wade to land. despite the fact that their vessel was a wreck, and about to sink, the boys had no desire to complain just then. their escape from threatening danger had been too recent for them to feel ungrateful. later on the grumblers would no doubt start to work in their customary way, and find cause for venting their disgust because things did not come out as they might have wished; but even giraffe was bubbling over with satisfaction when he realized that they had actually managed to cheat the storm after all. it had been a close shave, however, and only for that bright thought on the part of thad, they might at that very moment have been drifting far away, with their boat slowly but purely sinking, despite all the baling they could accomplish. but then, what was the good of scout-masters if they were not able to do the thinking for the crowd, the reckless giraffe would possibly have said, if the question had been put up to him. everybody was working like the busy bees; even bumpus tried to assist in hauling at the cable, having moved forward when the boat no longer pranced and bobbed on the agitated sea like a skittish horse. of course, as the water was coming in so fast, the cruiser was bound to presently strike bottom; but it was the design of thad to work her in just as far as possible, for as they had a block and tackle aboard he hoped they would be able to make some sort of rude "ways," where she might be hauled out later on, patched up, and their interrupted cruise continued. "stuck fast, thad; she's on bottom, and no use straining to try and get her another inch toward the shore!" announced allan, presently; and all of them realized that he spoke the absolute truth when he said this. "well," remarked bumpus, complacently, "we are on the wreck of our noble ship, and close enough to shore to salvage all our possessions; which i consider the greatest of good luck. who'll carry me on his shoulders, now?" strange to say, nobody offered to undertake this task, where bumpus pretended to feel very much hurt, though in reality quite merry. "i was afraid you'd all speak at once, and have a quarrel over the honor; but looks now like i might have to do the grand wading act myself, holding up my clothes-bag and blanket, to keep from getting the same more soaked than they are now. if we could only make a raft like old robinson crusoe did, it would be fine. can we get this cabin roof off, and would it float, do you think, thad?" "we'll wade!" replied the scout-master, grimly, and that settled it. "the sooner the better," remarked giraffe, "because night's going to drop down on us right early to-day, and we ought to have a warm fire started somehow, so's to dry us off," for giraffe had the utmost faith in a fire being able to do about nearly everything necessary to the good cheer of mankind, because he fairly worshipped a jolly blaze. indeed, as most of them had commenced to shiver already, owing to their wet condition, and the stress of excitement under which they had been recently laboring, the thought of sitting before a comfortable fire did seem to buoy up their spirits amazingly. "get ready to slip over, and go ashore!" ordered thad, "i'll take the anchor cable with me, and see that it's made fast to a rock or a tree. we may find a chance to mend the boat, and anyway it's just as well that we try and keep her here; though if the wind whips around no cable would hold her, i reckon." giraffe was the first to drop over. the water hardly came above his waist; but then his height was responsible for this, and cautious bumpus did not deceive himself on that account. still he found that he could easily wade, and in a short time all of them had reached the friendly rocks. here thad made the rope secure. "i'm going back for a few more things, and you might come along with me, allan," the scout-master remarked. "i reckon you think there's a pretty good possibility that the wind will veer around, sooner or later, and that the old tub won't be in sight when morning comes?" allan remarked, as he pushed out alongside his chum. "chances tend that way," was the replied thad, "and anyhow, it's better that we get all the supplies we have ashore. then if 'we have to play crusoe for a while we'll have something to go on with." "our stock happens to be pretty low," remarked allan; "and giraffe was only this morning complaining that he didn't get enough to eat, and that we'd better stop off somewhere to buy more bacon and bread and such things. too bad we didn't think of that when near duluth, which place you wanted to avoid because of certain reasons." they made the trip without accident. then it was considered that about all had been taken from the stranded and half sunken cruiser that was worth salving. already was giraffe hunting for some good place where they might find shelter, and start a fire; for while it had not rained as yet, strange to say, a flood was likely to come down at any moment, so long as the heavens remained as dark as they were still. bumpus was looking all around him. he did not wander away from the rest, because it seemed as though that mysterious island on which they had been cast might be inhabited by wild beasts of prey, for all they knew, ready to spring upon a nice, juicy morsel like him, and make a meal. that was one of the disadvantages in being plump, bumpus always insisted, because envious eyes were won't to fall upon him first of all. about that time giraffe hove in sight again, and from his happy manner it was evident that he had important news to communicate. "just shoulder your packs, fellows, and come with me," he hastened to tell them. "i've run across the boss place for us to keep under shelter; and there's aplenty of nice dry wood handy, so we can lay in a supply before it rains. after all it strikes me that with our troubles we ought to be thankful things ain't worse'n they are. with a fire a fellow can do nigh anything to make you feel good. come on!" chapter xvii robinson crusoe, jr. "there you are," said giraffe, presently. "why, that shelf of rock looks just like it was meant to keep the rain off," declared step hen, delighted at the prospect. "hold on," bumpus advised. "what ails you now?" giraffe wanted to know. "why, you see," the stout boy went on to say, "she looks kinder dark and gloomy under that same rock." "but it won't after i get a fire started; you see the night's beginning to settle down already," giraffe told him. "how d'ye know there ain't somethin' ahiding in there?" demanded bumpus. at that the lengthy scout laughed scornfully. "oh! that's the way the wind blows, does it? well, you watch me eat your old wolf up. i'm hungry enough right now to eat anything, i reckon." few of them could remember when giraffe was anything but starving, for he always had that appetite of his along, and working overtime. he immediately crawled under the ledge, for the shelf of rock was not high enough to admit of his standing erect. "seems to be all right," admitted bumpus. "of course it is, though i kind o' think a wolf, if he showed good taste, would let me alone, and wait for you, bumpus," giraffe called back. they hastened to deposit their burdens under the shelving rock. "now, thad, don't you think it'd be a good idea to have everybody hustle, and collect what fuel we could?" the fire-maker asked. "as it's apt to rain any, time now," answered the scout-master, "and we'll be glad to have a fire all night, it seems as though we'd show our good sense by gathering wood while we have the chance." "that's the ticket! you hear thad speaking, fellows, so get busy." giraffe showed them how by immediately starting in to collect such wood as lay conveniently at hand. "pile it up here, where it'll keep dry, and we can get what we need from time to time," he told them. many hands make light work, and as the entire half dozen boys busied themselves like a pack of beavers, before long they had accumulated such a pile of good dry fuel as pleased giraffe exceedingly. "that's what i call a hunky-dory lot of wood," he finally declared, when thad had announced the they must surely have enough to see them through the night, "but better bring in a little more, boys, because you don't know how fast the fire eats it up." as for himself, giraffe was now ready to get his cheery blaze started. he actually wasted a match in doing this, muttering at the time that there was no use bothering with his fire-sticks, which would come in handy later, perhaps, when the stock of matches ran low. well, every boy admitted that things certainly did take on a rosier hue, once that fire began to crackle and send up sparks. "that feels good, giraffe," said bumpus, holding his hands out toward the blaze. "sure it does," the fire maker went on to say, "and we'll all feel better still after we get some grub inside. thad, what are we going to have for supper?" nobody started making fun of giraffe now. they were all pretty sharp pushed, and could sympathize with the hungry one. "oh! look over our stock, and see what we've got," replied the scout-master. "only go slow, and don't cook too much, because nobody can tell how long we might have to stay here on this island, and we may have to come down to half rations yet." his words struck a chill to some of their hearts. giraffe, however, refused to allow himself to be concerned. "oh! don't worry, boys," he remarked, "we ain't going to starve, even if we have to be marooned here two weeks before a vessel can be signaled. why, what use are the fishing lines to us if we can't take lots of finny prizes? then, if there's ducks around, or anything else to shoot, ain't we got a gun? and last of all, i reckon we'd find lots of mussels or fresh water clams in the sand at the end of the island where we landed." somehow, his hopeful spirit did a great deal to help buoy up the spirits of the other scouts. even bumpus volunteered to assist in getting supper ready; indeed, there was no lack of cooks on this occasion, for every one seemed willing to lend a hand. after all, youth is so hopeful, and filled with animal spirits, that it takes more than ordinary backsets to dishearten a parcel of healthy boys. by the time the supper was done they were talking like magpies, and it would be difficult to imagine that these six happy-go-lucky fellows were now actual crusoes of the great lake, their boat a wreck, and deliverance a very uncertain prospect of the future. "that's the very last of the bacon, ain't it, giraffe?" asked step hen, during the progress of the meal. "sorry to say it is," came the reply. "and don't it taste finer than ever, though?" bumpus wanted to know. "that's always the way," laughed thad. "yes," added allan, "you never miss the water till the well runs dry. but how about our ham, is that gone, too!" "well, i should say, yes," declared giraffe, an injured look on his face, as if he felt accusing eyes fixed upon him, "s'pose you think one poor lone ham with six hungry fellows to chaw away at it, could last forever, but it won't. if you want to know what we've got left i'll tell you--two cans of boston baked beans, one of tomatoes, some potatoes, a package of rice, plenty of tea, sugar and coffee, three tins of milk, some chocolate, and three packages of crackers." "is that all?" gasped bumpus. "so you see right away to-morrow we've got to get busy trying to lay in some sort of supplies," giraffe went on to say. "how about that, thad?" "you never said truer words," was the scoutmaster's comment. "yum, yum, i don't know when i've enjoyed a supper like i have this one," step hen acknowledged. "i hope it ain't the last time i'll hear you say that," remarked giraffe. "hope so myself," returned the other, "because it'd be too bad if i had to quit eating at my tender age." "thad, do you think this island could be inhabited?" it was davy who asked this question, but bumpus must have been thinking along the same lines, for he nodded his head violently and smiled, as though he awaited thad's answer with interest. "of course i couldn't say," the scout-master observed. "it's only a small rocky island, you know, and people wouldn't live here the year' through." "but they might come here, ain't that so?" step hen insisted. "why, yes, to fish, or shoot wild fowl in the season," thad went on to say. "well, i sure do hope there may be some white fish netters here right now," step hen said. "or if their ain't, let's wish they'll be comin' along soon," bumpus added with a fervency that was certainly genuine. "i wonder," davy broke in with, "what we could do if our boat was carried away, or we found we couldn't mend the same?" "huh! what did old robinson do but build him a boat? here are six boys, wide-awake as they make 'em--and i'd like to know why we couldn't do as much as one man!" bumpus said this rather boastfully, not that he had so much confidence in his own ability to do things as he felt satisfied that thad and allan would be equal to almost any emergency. "well, we might, under the same conditions," the former told him. "ain't the conditions the same," inquired step hen. "he was wrecked, and so are we, you might call it." "yes, but there's no tree on this rocky island big enough to make into a boat," thad informed him. "that's a fact, they do grow dwarf trees here," step hen admitted. "and suppose there was, how could we ever chop one down with one little camp hatchet, and hollow out the log?" thad asked. "might take a year," acknowledged the other. "we'd freeze to death here in the winter time, because it gets awful cold, they say," step hen continued. "why, we could walk over the ice, and get ashore," davy suggested. "guess the old lake don't freeze over solid any time; it's too big, ain't it, thad?" giraffe went on to say. "that's something i don't know," came the scout master's answer; "and what's more to the point i don't care, because we'll never stay here that long." "glad to know it," said bumpus. "p'raps now our friends'll be looking us up, and come to the rescue." "you mean smithy and bob white, don't you?" asked step hen. "that's who." and so they continued to discuss matters from every view-point possible, as only wide-awake boys may. meanwhile the scout-master, thinking that while the rain held off he might as well step out and take a little look around, proceeded to do so. allan hollister was sitting there, resting, and listening to the arguments of the other boys, when he saw the scout-master beckoning just outside the full glow of light cast by the fire. "what's up, thad?" he asked, as he joined the other. "i think i've made the discovery that we're not alone on the island," came the answer. chapter xviii what thad found out "that sounds good to me, thad," remarked allan. "hold on before you say that," the other went on to say, significantly. "what about it?" demanded allan. "because we don't know who they may be, if there are men out here," answered the cautious scout-master. the other gave a low whistle that stood for surprise. "i see now, what you mean," he observed; "but what makes you think there are others here, when they never lifted a hand to help us, and haven't as much as dropped in to sit at our fire?" "well, perhaps they don't want to see us," thad told him. "oh! yes, we were talking about smugglers, and then we ran across that mr. stebbins who knew all about us, and he was one of a party looking up the slick men who fetch things over from canada to escape the heavy duties. but thad do you, really believe there could be a bunch of that stripe hiding out on sturgeon island?" "i don't know anything yet, allan, except that i've reason to know we're not alone out here, that's all." "well, what did you see, or hear?" asked the other. "this is what happened," thad went on to say, in a low tone, though the storm was still making such a racket that he had to put his mouth close to allan's ear in order to allow him to catch what he said. "while the rest kept up their talking i came out here to see how things looked, and make up my mind whether we were going to have any wet with this gale or not." "yes, and it don't look like it now, thad, because it's gone so far; reckon it must be what they call a dry storm; but go on and tell me the rest." "well, i was standing about here, in the dense shadow, you see, thinking, when all at once i discovered that there was something moving between me and the fire!" "whew!" murmured allan, deeply impressed. "of course, at first i thought it might be only a fox, or something like that, curious enough to want to creep up, and learn what sort of intruders had landed on sturgeon island; i could see that the bushes were moving softly, and that soon the thing, whatever it was, would come in sight of where stood here." "and it did?" allan demanded. "that's right," replied the other, softly; "and it turned out to be a man's head!" at that the other scout again gave one of his low whistles, to show that he was listening, and duly impressed by the startling information conveyed. "of course," continued thad, "i couldn't make out what he was like, very well, because his face was turned away from me; but as near as i can say he was a big man, a rough looking chap, and ugly in the bargain. more than that, he struck me like he might be a half-breed, or else an italian, for his skin was very dark." "well, what did he do?" inquired the other. "just lay there watching the rest of you for several minutes, allan. i could see him elevate his head at times, and then duck like a flash when he thought some one might be looking his way; which showed pretty plainly that he didn't want to be seen, and that he didn't mean to step forward and join the crowd." "then he went away, did he?" continued the other. "yes, backed off, and i lost track of him among the rocks and the bushes," thad went on to say, impressively. "it struck me as a queer proceeding, and i didn't lose much time in getting you out here, so i could talk it over." "perhaps there's only one, all told, and he might be some fellow who's escaped from prison, and is in hiding away off here, where he thinks no one will ever take the trouble to look for him," allan suggested. the scout-master shook his head. "i can't say just what he is, or whether there's a dozen here," he observed; "but i do know that all his actions were suspicious, for no honest fisherman would do what he did." "we'll have to be on our guard, then, thad?" "that goes without saying, until we know more about who our neighbors are," the scout-master replied. "it sort of complicates the situation some, too, don't it?" allan asked. "yes, and perhaps we'd better not say anything to the rest until we learn something more about this thing," thad told him. "how are you going to do that, when this man seems disposed to give us the cold-shoulder?" inquired the other. "i had about made up my mind to go off for a little stroll, and see what i could run across near by," the scout-master continued. "this island isn't so very large but i could find my way around; and while that storm is howling i'm not anxious to cross over to the other side. this is the sheltered part, and like as not these people, whoever they turn out to be, will have taken up their camp somewhere about here. but i wanted to warn you so you might make sure none of the other fellows wandered off." "i'll see to it, though i don't think they're apt to do anything of that sort, as they're a tired bunch right now," allan assured him. "and while you're about it," continued the other, impressively, "you'd better keep your hand on that shotgun of ours all the while, until you see me beckon to you again." "that sounds like you expected we'd be up against it good and hard before this game came to an end," remarked allan. "oh! not necessarily," replied his chum. "it's only following out our motto, 'be prepared.' you know there are a whole lot of sayings along that line, such as 'fore-warned is fore-armed,' and as the old pilgrim fathers used to say: 'trust in the lord; but, keep your powder dry!' we want to keep our ammunition ready. but while you go back to the rest of the boys i'll take a sneak." "don't think you'd better take that gun along with you, thad?" "not at all," was the quick reply. "i'll depend on the darkness, and the noise of the storm, to keep from being seen or heard. but i'm bent on trying to find out whether there's any sort of shack or cabin built here on sturgeon island. "well, take good care of yourself," warned allan, a little uneasily; for it was almost on his lips to ask why he might not be permitted to keep the scout-master company, for he did hate so much to see thad pull out alone. he insisted on gravely shaking hands before he would leave his partner, to return to the camp under the rocky shelf. they had been so much together of recent years that these two boys were exceedingly fond of each other, more so than brothers could ever have been; which was one reason why allan disliked seeing the other moving away into the darkness, and taking voluntarily upon himself the dangers such a scout involved. obeying orders he himself made his way back to where the other sat. giraffe was holding out, and explaining something that he had advanced; but evidently he must have noticed the absence of the others, for he soon asked: "what's the good word, allan; because i reckon you and our scout-master have been taking a squint at the weather? i was just telling the rest here that we won't get any wet with this blow, because all the signs point that way, and as i said before. i'm getting to be an authority on weather now-a-days. "that was about what we thought," allan told him. "you mean that thad is with me in my assertion, do you?" demanded giraffe; and when the other had nodded in the affirmative the tall scout turned to davy, bumpus and step hen triumphantly, to add: "there, didn't i tell you i could hit these weather changes on the handle every time. when i warn you next time there's going to be a storm, better hurry to get in out of the wet." "i think it's a great pity you waste your precious time bothering about what the weather is agoing to be, when we can't help it; and you might be racking that really stupendous brain of yours adoing other things worth while," bumpus went on to remark. "huh! as what?" giraffe wanted to know. "well, famines in the eating line, for one thing," spoke up the fat scout, instantly. "s'pose now you'd told us we was going to run up against hard times, in the way of a scarcity of grub two days back, couldn't we just as well have dropped in to some town along the shore, and stacked up with heaps and heaps of good things? seems to me, giraffe, you've gone and wasted your talent on the wrong thing. what good is it ever agoing to do you, to pretend to tell what sort of weather we'll get next week, when it's only a guess after all? better make a change, and predict famines and such things, so we can take the alarm, and buy out some country grocery." giraffe had not one word to say in reply. he must have recognized the force of bumpus' philosophy, and wished in his heart he had been gifted with the spirit of prophecy, so that he might have given warning in due time as to the need of replenishing their stock of provisions. the conversation ran on, other subjects being taken up. giraffe wanted to know what kept thad away so long, and was told that the scout-master had concluded to take a little look around. at that the other suggested that perhaps he too might stretch his legs; whereupon allan informed him that he was under orders to keep them all close to the ledge under which they had found shelter; and that thad had told him no one must be allowed to stray away a single yard. after that the boys did not talk quite so volubly; possibly some suspicion may have entered their minds that perhaps things were not quite so peaceful as they appeared on the surface; and that thad might know of some reason for expecting a new batch of troubles to descend upon them. allan kept sitting there, gun in hand. he was waiting to receive some sort of sign from thad, to tell him his presence was desired once again out there beside the tree where they had previously conferred. it seemed a very long time before he caught a movement there, and then saw the hand of the scout-master beckoning to him. "stay here, as thad wants to talk with me," he told the rest, after which he strode forth to join the other. "well, did you find out anything?" he asked, the first thing. "only this," replied thad, solemnly, "the island is occupied by a party of several rough men, who have a boat in a sheltered cove over there, and a cabin half hidden among the rocks and brushwood; but the mystery of it all is, what they may be doing here, and why they look on us as enemies!" chapter xix bad neighbors "it seems to be getting worse and worse, the further we go, don't it, thad?" allan asked, after he had had time to digest the startling information which his chum had imparted, as they stood there within the outer edge of the glow cast by giraffe's camp-fire under the overhanging ledge of rock. "looks that way," replied the other, seriously enough, for he did not exactly like the situation. "seems like it wasn't bad enough for us to be wrecked, and marooned on this queer island, but we have to fall across the trail of some unknown parties who may be up to all sorts of unlawful dodges, for all we know. but thad, tell me more of what you saw and heard." "when i started out from here," the scoutmaster began, "i knew that i'd probably only have to look around at this end of the island, because no sensible man was going to take up his quarters where these storms always strike in. and then i figured it out that the chances were, these parties, if there were more than the one fellow i'd seen sneaking around, and spying on us, would want to be down close to the water, for a good many reasons. you can understand that, allan?" "yes, and i think that notion would have come to me, just as it did you," replied the other promptly, showing that he was following the narrative closely. "well, that being the case," resumed the scoutmaster, "i stuck to the lower part of the land, climbing over and around such outcropping rocks as i came across. the moon wasn't helping me very much, though it's up there behind the clouds; and on that account you see the darkness is never so bad as when there's no moon at all. "it wasn't so very long before i heard something knocking softly near by, and listening carefully i made up my mind that it must be a boat that was kept in a snug cove perhaps, and yet where it got more or less wash of the sea beyond. "that was just what it turned out to be, allan, a fair sized motorboat, stoutly built, and yet something of a hummer when it would come to speed. her outlines told me this as soon as i could make her out down in the berth she occupied between the rocks where they had protected the sides of the little basin with logs to keep her from chafing too much. "now, speed indicates that the people owning that boat expect to show a clean pair of heels, as they say, at times. they want to be in condition to skip out in a hurry, and be able to outrun any ordinary craft that might try to overhaul them. wouldn't you think that way, allan?" "you're speaking my mind to a dot, thad." "but i wasn't satisfied wholly, and made another move, to see whether they had any sort of a cabin around. seemed to me that if they were using sturgeon island for some sort of shady business, they ought to have a shelter. well, i found it before ten minutes had passed, and by just creeping along what i made out to be a regular trail leading from the boat up the shore a piece." "good for you, thad; no woodsman could have done better!" exclaimed the other scout, who, having had practical experience extending through many trips into the wilderness with hunting parties, was pretty well posted on the numerous little "wrinkles" connected with woods lore. "oh! that was the most natural thing in the world for any one to do, and i don't deserve any credit, allan. but there were times when i admit i did have to almost smell that trail, for it passed over little stretches of rock, you see. at such times i had to look around, guess about where it ought to be found where the earth began again, and in that way pick it up once more." "and it really led you to a cabin, did it?" allan asked, as the other paused. "yes, and there had been a fire burning in front of the shack, though i found only the ashes, as though it had been-hurriedly put out, perhaps when they first saw us heading toward the island, just before the storm came along." "the ashes were still warm, then?" queried allan, knowing that to be the logical way a forest ranger always learns about how long past a fire has burned out, or been extinguished. "they were, and i could see that the brands had been torn apart, showing that some one was in a hurry to keep its light from betraying the fact of any person being camped on sturgeon island." "just what i'd think myself, thad." "after i saw that there was a cabin," continued the scout-master, "i wondered whether i had better take chances, and crawl up close enough to hear what they were saying, if so be there were men there. before i had gone far in that scheme i realized that it was a little too risky, because i could hear a moving about, as though several men might be passing in and out. i also caught an occasional low muttering tone; but the noise of the waves dashing against the rocks, and the rattling of the branches of the trees that overhung the lone cabin, kept me from catching more than a single word now and then. "after listening for quite a while i thought you would be getting anxious about my staying so long; and as i couldn't get any real satisfaction out of the game by hanging around any longer, why, i made up my mind to clear out. i'd learned several things, anyway, and by putting our heads together thought we might get at the meat in the cocoanut." of course that was a neat way of admitting that he wanted to talk matters over with his best chum, on the supposition that "two heads are better than one." allan took it that way, for had he not on numberless occasions done just about the same thing? "of course you couldn't tell how many of these men there were, thad?" he asked. "i tried to make a stab at it by noticing the different sound of voices; and i'm dead sure there must have been three anyhow, p'raps more," the scout-master told him. "and i think you've said once or twice that they seemed to be a rough lot?" the other went on to remark. "that's my impression, allan, from a number of things which i won't bother mentioning now. and there's something more. i told you that when i had a glimpse of the fellow who spied on our camp i thought he might be a foreigner, or a half-breed, didn't i?" "yes, i remember you did, thad." "well," explained the other, "although i heard so poorly while i was hanging out near that hidden shack there were times when i thought one of the men was talking in some tongue besides plain united states. fact is, he rattled off something in french." "oh! then it's plain who they are--half-breed canadians from the north shore. as this island properly belongs to canada they would have a right to land here, and our coming needn't bother them any--if they are honest men." "thad, they wouldn't hide out like they do if they were the right sort. make up your mind they're doing something that's against the law. honest men don't carry on this way, and spy on a camp of boy scouts wrecked in a storm. why, no matter how rough they might be, they'd drop in on us, and offer to share whatever they had. it's only fear of arrest that makes cowards of men this way." "i forgot to tell you that among the few words i did manage to pick up by straining my ears to the limit, were just three that gave me an idea they took us for a detachment of militia, either canadian or yankee, out on the lake on some serious business that might interfere with their trade. those three words were 'soldiers,' 'khaki,' and 'arrest.'" allan gave a soft whistle to indicate how his state of feeling corresponded with that of his chum. "there isn't any doubt about it in my mind, thad," he asserted, vehemently; "but that they're here for no good. that fast launch means they are in the habit of making swift trips back and forth, perhaps taking the night for it every time, so as to run less chance of being seen. and here hard luck has marooned us on sturgeon island with a bunch of desperate smugglers, who look on us as soldiers sent out by the government to gather them in. if ever we were up against it hard, we sure are right now, pard thad." "you seem to have set your mind on that one explanation of their presence here; and i'll admit that this island would be a great half-way place to hide the smuggled goods on, till the right night came to run them across to the american shore; but perhaps you're barking up the wrong tree there, allan!" "oh! i'll admit that when i call them smugglers i'm only guessing, because, so far as i know we haven't any sort of evidence looking that way. it only seems the most natural explanation of why they're so much afraid of us, believing as they seem to that we're connected with the government, one side or the other, just on account of these boy scout uniforms, which i reckon they don't happen to be familiar with. but thad, you're holding something back; i can tell that by the way you act. you learned more than you've told me so far; own up to that." the young scout-master chuckled. he liked to spring little surprises once in a while. it was just like tapping a peg until he had it set in the ground to suit his fancy; and then with one master-stroke driving it home. he had whetted allan's curiosity now, and the time had come to satisfy it. "yes," thad went on to say, "there was one little discovery i made that gave me certain information, and it was strong enough to convince me that our earlier suspicions about smugglers and all that sort of thing were away off the track." "yes, go on, please, thad." "it struck me while i was lying there not so very far away from that shanty hidden among the rocks and brushwood. most of the time the wind was blowing on my left side, but every little while there would come a pucker or a flaw, causing it to change for just for a second or two. and it was when this happened the first time i got scent of what was in the wind, in a double sense. in other words, allan, i discovered a distinct odor of fish in the air!" "oh! now i tumble to what you mean!" exclaimed the other. "and every time that wind brought me a whiff of the fishy smell the stronger became my conviction that these men must be poachers, who knew they were breaking certain game laws by taking white fish or trout illegally, and reaping a harvest that honest fishermen were unable to reach. stop and think if things don't point that way?" and allan did not have to hesitate in the least, for what his companion had just told him seemed to settle the matter beyond all dispute. "yes, thad," he said, "now you've let the cat out of the bag there can't be any question about it. these half-breed canadians are illegal fishermen, poachers they'd be called up in maine; and they believe we've come to arrest the lot. it's a bad lookout for the silver fox patrol; but we've seen worse, and always came out on top." chapter xx "hold the fort!" as a rule it did not take these boys long to decide upon their course of action. and in the present instance they had so little choice that unusually prompt results might be expected. "we'd better tell the other fellows, to begin with?" ventured allan. "yes," remarked the scout-master, promptly, "it wouldn't be fair to keep things like this from the boys. they're just as much interested in how it turns out as we are. and, besides, we may get a bright idea from somebody." "you never can tell," added allan; and some of those same other scouts might not have felt complimented could they have heard him say these words, as they seemed to imply that miracles did sometimes happen, when you were least expecting them. but having made up their minds on this score the pair walked over to the camp under that friendly ledge. upon their arrival every eye was immediately glued upon thad. it seemed as though giraffe, bumpus, davy and step hen must have guessed that the scout-master had made some sort of exciting discovery, and now meant to take them into his confidence. complete silence greeted the arrival of the two who had been conferring so mysteriously near by. of course, once thad broke the ice, and started to tell what he had discovered, this was apt to give way to a bombardment of questions; for giraffe and bumpus could think up the greatest lot of "wants" imaginable; so that it would keep thad busy explaining, until their ammunition ran out, or he had to throw up his hands in surrender through sheer exhaustion. he started in to explain what he had seen, and done, as soon as he dropped down beside his comrades of the silver fox patrol. immediately he had the attention of every one enlisted. bumpus sat there, watching and listening with such intentness that you would hardly believe he breathed at all. step hen, too, was following every word spoken by the scout-master, as though trying to grasp the seriousness of the situation, and figure out a way to circumvent the danger that had arisen so unexpectedly in their path. and the other two could not be said to be far behind in the interest they betrayed. as we have already heard thad tell allan about his first, seeing the man who was spying upon the camp; and later on how he came to find the hidden boat, as well as the concealed cabin, there is no necessity for us to follow the scout-master while he imparts this information to the quartette who, having been absent from that interview, had no previous knowledge of the facts. by the time he spoke of crawling silently away, and coming back to join the balance of the patrol, he had his chums worked up to a feverish pitch of excitement. "well," step hen was the first to break in with, "anyhow, game-fish poachers ain't quite so bad as smugglers would have been, and that's one satisfaction, i take it." "but they're bad enough," urged davy; "because they must be breaking the laws by taking fish in some way that ain't allowed. and if trapped they stand a chance to face a heavy fine, or a long sentence in jail, perhaps both. and if, as thad says, they've got the silly idea in their heads that we're connected with the canadian militia, and came here meaning to destroy their nets, and likewise haul the men over the coals, why, they'll either skedaddle and leave us marooned on old sturgeon for keeps, or else do something worse." "what sort of worse, davy?" demanded bumpus. "there you go again, saying things in a sort of half-cooked way, and leaving the rest to a fellow's wild imagination. do you mean you believe they'd really hurt us, when we ain't so much as lifted a finger to do the bunch any harm? speak out and tell us, now, you old croaker." "thad, what do you think they might do?" davy asked, under the impression that he would be wise to leave the explanation of the matter to one who was more capable of handling it than he could possibly be. "if they were sensible men," remarked the other, deliberately, as though he had given that particular thought much attention, "i wouldn't be afraid, because then we could reason with them, and explain that we were only a party of the boy scouts of america, off on a little cruise, and shipwrecked in the storm; also, that if they helped us in any way we'd just forget that we'd ever seen them here." "but explain and tell us what you mean by hinting that they mightn't be sensible men?" remarked step hen. "oh! well, that was my way of putting it," thad went on to say; "i meant that as near as i could guess they seem to be canadian half-breeds, for some of their talk was in a french patois i couldn't just understand. and i've always heard that those kind of men are mighty hard to handle, because, like italians they get furiously excited, and let their imaginations run away with them, like some other fellows i happen to know." "did you say there, were only three of this bad crowd, thad?" giraffe asked. "i wouldn't like to say for sure," came the reply, "but as near as i could make out that would cover the bill." "huh! and we count six, all told," continued the tall scout, indifferently, although thad imagined he was not feeling so comfortable as he pretended to be. "yes, six boys," the scout-master reminded him. "but husky boys in the bargain, and accustomed to taking care of themselves in tight places," giraffe went on to remark, proudly. "besides, ain't we got a gun that shoots twice? that ought to account for a couple of the rascals; and then what would one poor fish poacher be against a half dozen lively fellows, tell me that?" allan laughed at hearing the boast. "how easy it is to figure out who's going to win the next championship in the national league of baseball clubs, while you're sitting around the stove in the winter time?" he told giraffe. "but these paper victories seldom pan out the same way when the good old summer time comes along, and the boys get hustling. i suppose now, giraffe, you'll be the one to knock over those two men, each with a single shot from your faithful double-barrel. give him the gun, step hen, and let him start in right away." of course that rather startled the tall scout. "hold on there, don't be in such a big hurry!" he went on to say, holding up a hand to persuade step hen to keep the firearm a while longer. "course now i didn't exactly mean it that way. i never wanted to shoot a man, that i know of. what i had in my mind, i reckon, was that one of us could keep a pair of these rascals covered with the shotgun, and hold 'em steady, while the other five managed the third of the bunch. see?" "the trouble is," thad told them, "none of us know french, and in that case we mightn't be able to talk with the poachers, even if they gave us half a chance. they seem to have a bad case of the rattles right now, and if it wasn't for the storm i really believe they'd get away from here in a hurry." "do we want 'em to go, or stay?" asked bumpus, as though he could not settle in his own mind which one of these several openings would be best for their interests. "for my part," spoke up step hen, "they couldn't clear out any too soon to make me feel happy. i know what the breed is like, and believe me, boys, i don't care to make their acquaintance, not me." "that's all mighty fine, step hen," remarked giraffe, loftily, "but when you talk that way you don't look far enough ahead." "just explain that, will you, and tell me why i don't?" demanded the other, with some show of indignation. "well, suppose now they did jump the island, and give us the merry ha! ha! what difference would it make to us whether they upset out there on that stormy lake or not; wouldn't we lose all chance of being ferried across to the mainland, and so making our escape from this measly island?" step hen apparently caught the force of this reasoning, for he subsided, with a sort of discontented grunt. davy, however, took up the reasoning at this point. "but suppose now they wouldn't want to get out in such a hurry? what if they had a lot of valuable fish nets around somewhere that they hated to let go? don't you reckon in that case they might take a notion to try and bag the lot of us, so's to hold us prisoners till they could decide what to do with the ones they took to be government spies?" bumpus groaned as he listened to all this terrible talk. his mind was already on fire with anticipations of what the immediate future might bring forth. still, on occasion bumpus could show considerable valor; and several times in the past he had astonished his chums by certain feats which he had engineered. "it's up to me to think up some way to get us out of this terrible pickle," he was telling himself, over and over again; but even if any one of his five comrades heard what he was saying they paid little attention to it; but the fat scout meant all he said, as the future proved. "one thing sure," giraffe went on to remark, presently, "they know where our little camp is, because thad saw that spy watching what we was adoing here. and if so be they should take a notion to pay us a visit before morning, why, they wouldn't have any trouble finding us out." "not less we made a move," argued davy. "and we're too nicely fixed here for that, ain't we?" giraffe demanded, as he cast a swift look around to where the various blankets, having first been dried in the heat of the fire, were now inviting to repose, each fellow having apparently selected the particular spot where he meant to sleep, let the wind howl as hard as it wished, for that projecting rocky ledge would keep any rain from coming in upon them. "that's right, giraffe; you know a good thing when you see it!" declared bumpus, who did not altogether fancy starting out to seek another camp, where they would have to lie down in the dark, and take chances of being caught in a rain, if later on such a change in the character of the storm came about. "then, if thad says the word, we'll stick right here, and hold the fort!" the tall scout exclaimed. "in the words of that immortal scot we read about, what was his name, roderick dhu, i think, who cried: 'sooner will this rock fly from its firm base, than i.' them's our sentiments, ain't they, fellows?" "hear! hear!" came from bumpus, as he snuggled down again contentedly, believing that this disagreeable part of the program at least had been indefinitely postponed, and that they stood a good chance for staying out their time under that friendly protecting ledge. chapter xxi giraffe has a scheme "if they'd only leave us alone, why, what's to hinder us mending our own ship, and sailing away out of this, sooner or later?" bumpus wanted to know; after they had been talking the matter over for a long time. "i suppose you'll do the mending part, bumpus?" demanded step hen, wickedly. "well, i'd be only too willing, if i knew how," instantly flashed back the other, "but unfortunately my education was neglected when it came to patching up boats, and tinkering with machinery. i'm ashamed to confess to that, but it's the whole sad truth. but, thank goodness, we've got a scoutmaster who can do the job mighty near as well as any machinist going. i'll back thad, yes, and allan in the bargain, to make a decent job of it. and even giraffe here might fix things up in a pinch. so long as we've got a chance to make the chippeway belle do duty again at the old stand we hadn't ought to complain, i think, boys." "i'm sorry to tell you that there's only a slim chance of that ever coming about," thad remarked, right then and there. "then you believe she was smashed worse'n any of us thought was the case; is that it, thad?" asked giraffe. "no, it isn't that so much as another thing i've noticed lately, that's going to upset our calculations," replied the scout-master. "tell us what that might be, won't you?" pleaded bumpus, with a doleful shake of his head; as though he might be beginning to believe in the truth of that old saying to the effect that "troubles never come singly." "you may remember," thad went on to say, "that when you asked my opinion be fore about the boat staying where we left it, i said there was a good chance we'd find her there in the morning if the wind didn't shift?" "and now you mean that it's doing that very same thing, do you?" giraffe asked. "if you'd taken the trouble to notice all sorts of things, that you had always ought to as a true scout," the other told him, "you'd have found that out for yourself. the fact of the matter is that when we first reached this place under the ledge the wind seemed to find a way in here, and make the fire flare at times. look at it now, and you'll see that it's as steady as anything; yet you can hear the rush of the wind through the treetops just the same. it's turned around as much as twenty degrees, i should say." "and that's bad for the boat, ain't it?" bumpus wanted to know. "i'm afraid so," the scout-master replied; "because it will get the full force of both wind and heavy seas. long before morning it will most likely be carried out into deep water, and disappear from sight. i think we've seen the last of the chippeway belle, boys." "but, thad," observed giraffe, "how about that anchor rope? you know we carried it ashore, and fastened it to a rock. would that break, now? it was a dandy rope, and nearly new." "well," said thad, decisively, "once the seas begin to pound against the boat, with every wave the strain on that rope is bound to be just terrific. it might hold for a time; but mark my words, the constant chafing against the rock, where you fastened the end, will wear the strands until they snap; and then good-bye to our boat." "then we had better make up our minds to facing that fact, and not feel very much disappointed if in the morning we can't see a sign of the belle," allan went on to give, as his opinion; for he accepted, the theory advanced by the scout-master as though there could be no reasonable doubt about its being a positive fad. "what if them fellows took a notion to step in on us to-night, and make us all prisoners of war?" queried bumpus; for this possibility had been working overtime in his brain, and he was only waiting for a break in the conversation to advance it. "just what i was going to speak about," giraffe up and said, somewhat excitedly. "you all sat down on me when i happened to remark about getting a pair of the birds with the gun. i move that we ask thad to take charge of the firearm, and the rest can load up with whatsoever they can find," and leaning over, he deliberately appropriated the camp hatchet before step hen, whose eye had immediately started to look for the same, could fasten, upon it. "me too, i second the motion!" exclaimed davy, in turn making a dive for the long and dangerous looking bread knife, which had proved so handy for many services while on the trip, and was being constantly lost and found again. "but where do i come in?" asked bumpus, as he saw the favorite weapons of offense and defense taken possession of so rapidly. "a club will do for you, and step hen as well," remarked giraffe, complacently; "for when a fellow has appropriated the best there is, he can afford to smile at his less fortunate comrades, and assume a superior air. "oh! well, i'd just as soon arm myself that way," the fat scout told them, as he set about finding something that would answer the purpose from amidst the firewood they had carried under the ledge to keep it from getting wet. "i'm a peaceful fellow, as you all know, and think there's nothing like a good hickory or oak club to convince other people that you've got rights you want them to respect. i've practiced swinging indian clubs by the hour; and when it comes to giving a right hard smack, count me in. that's going to hurt, without injury to body or limb." at another and less exciting time giraffe would have surely insisted upon bumpus explaining the difference, between these two sources of injury; but just then he had too much else to bother his head about to start an argument. "now, let's see any three men tackle this crowd, that's what!" he went on to remark, as he swept his eye proudly over the motley array of weapons; for even allan had armed himself, having a stout stick, with which he doubtless felt able to render a good account of himself in a tussle. "but let's remember," warned thad, "that we don't want to let ourselves be drawn into a battle with these poachers, unless it's the last resort. they're ignorant men, and just now they must feel pretty desperate, thinking that we're going to break up a profitable game they've been playing for a long time, carrying their fish to some american market against the laws of canada, and perhaps smuggling their cargo in, if there's any duty on fish, which i don't know about." "if only you could get a bare chance to talk with one of the lot, thad," allan spoke up, "i'm pretty sure you'd be able to let them know the truth; and in that way we'd perhaps make friends of them. they might take our solemn promise that we never would give them away, and land us somewhere ashore, so we could make our way to either duluth, or some other place to the north here." "i'm hoping to get just such an opening, if we can hold the fort till morning; and they haven't skipped out by then," thad told him; which proved that he had planned far ahead of anything that had as yet been proposed. "and meanwhile try to be thinking up any french words you ever heard," suggested bumpus, artfully. "who knows what use the same'd be to you in a tight hole. how'd parley vous francais sound, now? i've heard our dancing-master in cranford use that more'n a few times, though i own up i don't know from adam what she means. but it might make a fellow come to a standstill if he was agoing to run you through, and you suddenly shot it at him." "thank you, bumpus, i'll remember that, though i think it means 'do you speak french?' and what if he took me up, and became excited because i couldn't understand anything he said, you see it wouldn't help much," the scout-master told him. "but say, what are we meaning to do about standing guard; because i reckon now we've got to watch out, and not let them fellows gobble us up while we're sleeping like the babes in the wood?" step hen asked. "oh! that can be fixed easy enough, if we all have to stay awake through the whole night. wouldn't that be the best plan, thad?" it was bumpus who put this important question, but none of them were deceived in the least by this apparent warlike aspect on the part of the fat scout. bumpus could play a clever game when he became fully aroused; but if thad guessed what his true reason might be for asking such a question, he did not choose to betray the fact, knowing that it would cause the fat scout more or less confusion. "yes, it might be as well for all of us to try and stay awake!" he declared. "as you seem to have settled it that the gun falls to my share, why, i'll make up my mind not to close an eye the whole livelong night; and if the rest choose to sit up with me and help watch, the more the merrier." "i will, for one," said giraffe, stoutly. "you can count on me to make the try," added davy. "ditto here," allan went on to say. "oh! i'm willing enough," bumpus observed hastily, seeing that several of his comrades were waiting for him to speak; "but i hope that every time anybody just sees me abobbing my head he'll stick a pin in me; only please don't jab it too deep, or you'll make me howl." "as for me," step hen added, "i don't feel a whit sleepy right now; and my eyes are as starey as a cat's, or jim's over yonder," pointing to where he had managed to fasten the captive owl, which he had persisted in carrying ashore, despite the fact that he had about all the burden any boy would care to carry when compelled to wade through water almost up to his neck. "well, listen here, then," remarked giraffe, mysteriously, "i've been thinking up a scheme that looks good to me, and i want to know how the rest of you stand when it comes to trying it out." "go on and tell us what it is, giraffe!" exclaimed bumpus, eagerly. "yes, if you have thought up anything worth while, we'd be mighty glad to hear about the same," added allan. the tall scout looked cautiously about him, and lowering his voice went on: "why, i'll tell you, fellows, what i thought. now, about that boat belonging to these here poachers, what's to hinder us from coolly appropriating the same, and starting out to look for the mainland ourselves? then, you see, it'll be that bunch that's left behind to be marooners on old sturgeon island; and when we get to town why, we can let the authorities know all about what they're adoing out here, so they'll come and arrest the whole kit. now, what d'ye say about that for an idea, hey?" chapter xxii the long night "good for you, giraffe!" exclaimed bumpus, ready to seize upon the idea without stopping to examine the same in order to find out whether or not it were possible to carry it out. "it ain't half bad," admitted step hen. "but how about starting to sea in this blow?" asked allan, quietly, after he and thad had exchanged winks. "oh! hang the luck, i clean forgot all about that!" admitted the tall scout, his smile of triumph disappearing immediately. "whew! i should say we couldn't!" bumpus hastened to add, showing that it was possible for a boy to change his opinion almost as speedily as a shift of wind causes the weather vane to turn around, and point toward a new quarter. "and," added thad, "that will all have to be left to the morning, anyway. if we should find a half-way chance to do something along those lines, why, we'll gladly give giraffe the credit for thinking up the scheme. but it's time we settled down for the night now; so let's fix our blankets and be as comfy as we can, even if we do expect to keep awake." "and don't you think it'd be a good plan, thad," suggested step hen, "to always keep that gun in evidence? if we could make them believe we all of us carried the same kind of weapons, we'd be more apt to see sun-up without any trouble happening; and that's what i think." "well, now, there's some meat in that idea of yours, step hen," the scout-master told him; "and it wouldn't be a bad scheme for those who have clubs, to carry them more or less this way under your arm, just as you would your gun if tramping, or on a hunt. in the firelight they may think that's what they are, and the effect will be worth something to us, as you say." all of the boys started to settling down. policy might have told them that if they made themselves too comfortable the chances of their remaining awake were rather slim. bumpus was a lad of good resolutions. no doubt he meant to stay awake just as firmly as thad himself could have done. but sleeping was one of the fat boy's weak points, and it was not long before he found himself nodding. twice he was jabbed in the leg with the point of a pin, once by giraffe, and the second time by davy; for the other boys, took his request literally, and doubtless enjoyed having the chance to "do him a to favor." each time he was thus punctured the fat scout would start up hurriedly, and open his mouth to give a yell, perhaps under the impression that he had been bitten by a snake, which reptiles he despised, and feared very much. discovering where he was in time, however, he had managed to hold his tongue, and muttered to himself that they "needn't go it quite so strong," as he ruefully rubbed his limb where the pin had entered. after each sudden awakening bumpus would sit sternly up straight, as though he had taken a solemn vow not to be caught napping again; but as the minutes dragged along he would begin to sink lower and lower again, for sleep was once more getting a firm grip upon him. when the fat boy reeled for a third time thad, who was watching operations with more or less amusement, noticed that neither step hen nor davy offered to make any use of their pins; the truth being that both of them had meanwhile gone fast asleep, and hence there were all three in the same boat. it happened that bumpus managed to arouse himself presently with a start; as if a sudden consciousness had come upon him. perhaps he imagined he felt another jab with a pin, and the sensation electrified him. first he looked on one side and then on the other. when he discovered that his persecutors were both sound asleep, a wide grin came over the good-natured red face of the stout youth. thad could see him industriously hunting along the lapels of his khaki jacket, as if for a weapon in the shape of a pin; and having secured what he wanted bumpus carefully reached out both hands, one toward step hen and the other in the direction of davy jones. then, with a low squeal of delight, he gave an outward motion with each hand. there instantly broke forth a chorus of yells that could be heard above the noise of the breakers on the rocks, and the wind rattling the branches of the low oak trees. "tit for tat," exclaimed. bumpus; "what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. after this we'll call it off, fellows, remember. it was give and take, and now the slate's wiped clean." davy jones and step hen, quite tired out from their exertions, slept peacefully, one on either side of bumpus; while giraffe dozed, and whenever he happened to arouse himself he would wave that hatchet vigorously, as if to call attention to the fact that he was "on deck," and doing full duty. the long night dragged on. once thad had some good news to communicate. "clouds seem to be getting lighter," he announced, pointing overhead. "yes," added the other, "and there's a sure enough break, i reckon, p'raps now we'll see something of that old moon before the peep of day comes." at any rate the fact of the khaki-clad denizens of the camp under the ledge being constantly on guard must have impressed itself upon the minds of the poachers, for they made no hostile move while darkness held sway. of course though, both sentries were glad to see the first peep of dawn in the far east. the wind had died down, and there seemed to be some chance that the wild waves would subside by noon, at least sufficiently to allow them to go forth if by any good luck they were given the opportunity to leave the island upon which they had been marooned by so strange a freak of fate. the others were soon aroused, and made out to have just allowed themselves a few winks of sleep toward morning, though they cast suspicious looks toward each other, thad noticed. however, neither he nor allen said a word about the hours that they had been by themselves on guard. the dreaded night had passed, and nothing out of the way had happened, so what was the use of rubbing it in, and making some of their good chums feel badly. "i think it would be possible to see the place where we left our boat, if i went out on that point there," thad remarked, while some of the rest were busying themselves in getting breakfast ready, as though meaning to make all the amends possible for their lack of sentry duty. as though he wished to make sure concerning this matter the scout-master left them, and made his way to the lookout he had indicated. he came back later on, and his face did not seem to show any signs of good news. "no boat in sight, i take it, thad?" asked giraffe, rightly interpreting his lack of enthusiasm. "it's sure enough gone, and look as hard as i could there didn't seem to be the first sign of the poor chippeway belle. dr. hobbs' friend will have to buy him another cruising boat, that's sure," thad told them. "well, he can do that, all right, out of the insurance money he collects from that old tub," declared giraffe, indignantly. "let me tell you he's been hoping we might sink the thing, somehow or other." breakfast was a bountiful meal, because giraffe happened to be a fellow who disdained half-way measures, when it came to feeding time. the idea of going around half starved so long as there was the smallest amount of food in camp did not suit him at all. so they ate until every one, even giraffe, announced that he had had enough; but by that time the frying-pans were empty, and the coffee-pot ditto, so perhaps it may have been this condition of things that influenced some of them to confess to being filled. the face of the tall boy had become clouded more or less, and it was evident to the scout leader that giraffe was busily engaged in pondering over something that did not look just right to him. "what's the matter, giraffe?" he asked, as they lounged around, enjoying the fire, because the morning had opened quite cool after the blow of the previous night. "i don't like this thing of an empty pantry, that's what!" observed the other, who could not forget that in less than five hours there was bound to be a demand from somewhere inside that he get busy, and supply another ration; and where was he to get the material to carry out this injunction when their supplies were practically exhausted. "well, we can't do anything about it, can we?" demanded step hen, trembling in the hopes that the tall scout might have thought of a plan. "that's just like some fellows," remarked giraffe, disdainfully; "ready to throw up the sponge at the first show of trouble. now, i ain 't built that way; and say, i've thought up a plan by which we might get some grub." "yes, what might it be?" asked thad, seeing that the other was waiting for a little encouragement before bursting out into a display of confidence; for he knew giraffe's ways to a fraction. "i tell you what we ought to do," the other suddenly explained; "march on that cabin in a bunch, looking mighty determined, and then demand that they supply us with what grub we need to tide us over. there you are; and how about it?" chapter xxiii where was bumpus "huh? i don't all speak at once, please. seems like my splendid idea ain't made a hit like i expected it would. what ails you all?" giraffe demanded, after a dead silence had fallen upon the little party, instead of the quick response he had hoped for. "we're waiting to hear from thad," explained step hen, as though he might himself be "up in the air," or, as he would himself have said, "straddling the fence," not knowing whether to scoff at the other's scheme, or give it his unqualified approval. "well, i wanted to figure it over in my own mind first," remarked the scout-master, slowly. "it has some good points, giraffe, but we'll have to get good and hungry before we start to holding up other people and demanding that they supply our wants, even if they are only fish poachers." "then you don't think we had ought to rush the cabin, as yet?" asked the other in a disappointed lone. "wait awhile; and see what turns up," thad told him. "but what could come along to give us a meal around noon?" giraffe flashed up, always thinking of the main chance, which meant looking after the demands of that voracious appetite. "oh! lots of things," laughed thad. "you know yourself it's the unexpected that keeps happening with us right along. many a time in the past we didn't have any idea of what was going to stir us up, till it came along. just now it strikes me all of us ought to stick together, and not go wandering around by ourselves." "bumpus ought to be here to get that advice, then," remarked davy. at that thad turned upon the other scout. "why, i hadn't noticed that he was away," he said, hastily, and frowning at the same time; "when and where did he go, can you tell me that, davy, since you seem to be the only one who knows about his being gone?" "why, you see, thad," began the other, looking a trifle alarmed himself now, "he just remembered after we'd had our breakfast, you know, that he must have dropped his belt somewhere; and as he remembered having the same after he came out of the water, he said he expected he'd be able to pick it up between here and that place; so he strolled off. why, i never thought but what some of the rest of you saw him go; and because nobody said a word i 'spected it was all right." "how long ago was that, did you say, davy?" thad asked. "why, just after giraffe here cleaned out the last piece of bacon in the pan, as he said it was silly to waste even little things; and, after all, he wasted it in a hurry, too, let me tell you," davy proceeded to say. "why, i think that must have been nearly twenty-five minutes ago!" exclaimed step hen, in some excitement, as he cast an anxious look away across the rocks and brush that interfered somewhat with their view of the route bumpus would be apt to take on his way toward their landing place. thad jumped to his feet. "this must be looked into!" he said, decisively. "you're going off to hunt for him, i take it?" observed giraffe; "how about not getting separated, like you just told us? ain't it going from bad to worse, thad, if so be you rush out by yourself and leave us here?" "yes," added davy, quickly, "if they're alooking around for chances to gobble us up, one by one, first it'd be bumpus, then our scout-master, and then another of the bunch, till we all got caught. thad, hadn't we ought to go along with you--" "just what i would have proposed, if you'd let me speak," the other assured them readily enough; "so get, ready now, and we'll start off." "but how about all our stuff here; shall we leave it behind?" questioned davy. "oh! i hope not," remarked step hen; "i've got somewhat attached to that blanket of mine, you know." "yes, we've noticed that lots of times, when you hated to get up in the morning," chuckled giraffe. "but how about it, thad; do we leave 'em here, and run the chance of getting the same took; or shall we take the stuff along with us?" "i don't believe these men will bother with such small things as blankets and cooking things; if we had a supply of eatables it might be a different matter; but we happen to be shy along that line. yes, bundle them up, and hide them 'as best you can. we may be in for a fight, for all we know, and in that case we'd want the freedom of our arms to work those clubs." "sounds like business, anyway!" muttered giraffe, as he started in to do as the scout-master recommended; for obedience is one of the first principles laid down in the rules by which boy scout are guided when they subscribe to the regulations of the troop they have joined. they were soon ready. as the five lads went forth they presented quite a formidable appearance indeed, what with the gun, the camp hatchet, the long bread knife, and a pair of clubs thick enough to give a fellow a nasty headache if ever they were brought in contact with his cranium. "first of all, it's only right we should give a hail; and if bumpus is wandering around somewhere he may answer us; and then we can wait for him to come in. i see he's left his bugle with his blanket here; pick it up somebody and give the recall, if anybody knows how." "trust that to me!" exclaimed davy; and snatching up the nickeled instrument he placed it to his lips, immediately sending forth the strident sounds that have done duty on many a battlefield. no sooner had the last note pealed forth than every boy listened eagerly; but there was no reply. "sure he could have heard that, even if he was at the other end of the island," remarked davy, ready to try again if the scout-master told him to do so. "and bumpus has got a good pair of lungs, so he'd be able to let us know he was on to the job, if he had the use of his mouth!" remarked giraffe, darkly. "but you don't hear even a peep, do you, fellows?" remarked step hen. "come on, and fetch that bugle with you, davy," said thad; "we might need it again later, you know. i wonder, now, what the poachers will think when they hear a bugle sound? if they don't know anything about the scouts, they'll think more than ever that we belong to the canadian militia." thad could understand just what course bumpus was likely to take in passing along the rough surface of the ground between their landing place and the spot where they had found the friendly ledge. that was the way he expected to go also, keeping constantly on the lookout for any sign calculated to tell him if the fat scout had fallen into difficulties. it led them down near the edge of the water, too; and this gave thad a sudden bad feeling. could it be possible that bumpus, who was always a clumsy fellow at best, owing to his great bulk, had tripped, and taken a nasty fall, so that his head had struck some cruel rock? he would not say anything to the rest just now upon that score; but all the same it troubled him not a little as he wandered along, keeping on the alert for just such a trap, into which the missing scout may have fallen. all at once thad stopped, and the others saw a peculiar look cross his face. it seemed to tell them that their guide had conceived an idea. "guessed where he's gone, have you, thad?" inquired giraffe, quickly. "well, no, hardly that," was the reply; "but i ought to tell you that right now we're close to that clump of brush that hides the little rock hollow where they've got their boat hidden." "oh! mebbe bumpus he went and took a look in there, just the same as you did, and discovered the boat, too!" remarked step hen. "well, what if he did, would that explain his absence one little bit?" demanded davy. "you don't think, now, i hope, our chum is such an idiot that he'd start to take a little cruise out there on that rough water all by himself? bumpus ain't quite so much in love with sailing as all that, let me tell you right now." in another minute they were looking at the boat that lay concealed in among the rocks and brush. thad even jumped down, and passed into its cabin; while the others listened, and waited with their hearts apparently ready to jump up into their throats, lest they caught sounds of a conflict. but presently the scout-master again appeared, and joined them. "not there, then?" asked giraffe, in a disappointed tone. "no, but i saw the print of his shoe on the seat of the boat, which shows bumpus did climb down here; but it was heading outward, so it seems he came up again. now to look a little further, and find out if he went on toward the spot where we came to land." they started off, leaving the vicinity of the fish poachers' hidden boat. for a couple of minutes, thad seemed to be having little or no trouble in following the marks which bumpus had left behind him; for the fat scout never so much as dreamed that there was such a thing as covering his trail; nor would he have known of any reason for doing anything like this had he been so far up in woodcraft. "hold up!" they heard thad say, suddenly, as he bent over more than he had been doing up to now. all of the others waited anxiously to hear what the scout-master believed he had discovered, for they could see him moving this way and that. finally thad looked up, to disclose a frown upon his usually calm brow. "well, would you, believe it," he went on to say, as free from anger as he possibly could bring himself to speak, "they've gone and done it, after all." "what, thad?" asked giraffe, who had been actually holding his breath the while. "jumped on our chum right here, and made him a prisoner," came the staggering reply; "i reckon they must have done something rough to him, or we'd have heard him make some kind of an outcry; but they got bumpus, all right, boys!" chapter xxiv loyal scouts to the rescue this assertion on the part of their leader was so tremendous that for almost a dozen seconds the boys could not utter a single word; but just stood there, and gazed at thad, speechless. but it is a very difficult thing to muzzle some lads for any length of time; and giraffe presently burst out with: "jumped on poor bumpus right here, did they, thad? and p'raps pounded him into a condition where he just couldn't give the alarm, no matter how hard he tried? oh! mebbe i don't wish i could have been there to touch up the scoundrels with this fine hatchet? what i'd a done to 'em would have been a caution, let me warn you! but how do you tell all this from the signs, thad? we're only a bunch of next door to tenderfeet scouts when it comes to reading trail talk; but we know enough to understand when she's explained to us. please open up, and tell us now." "and then we must decide what we'll do, so as to rescue our chum," said step hen angrily; "because scouts always stand by each other, you know, through thick and thin; and bumpus is the best fellow agoing, you bear me saying that?" "well, it's this way," said the scout-master, always ready to oblige his mates whenever he could do so; "you can see that some sort of a scuffle has taken place where we're standing right now. other feet than those of bumpus are marked; and then they all start away from here, heading in that direction. but although bumpus walked to this spot there's never a sign of his footprints, which i know so well leading off from here." "what's the answer to that?" asked davy. "why," broke in giraffe, quickly, "that's as plain as the nose on your face, davy. our chum was carried away! either he couldn't walk because he'd been tapped on the head, and was senseless; or else they had got him tied up that quick." "is that so, thad?" demanded step hem "giraffe has got the answer all right," came the reply. "i can see where these fellows must have been hiding, and let bumpus pass them by. then one dropped down on top of him, so that he couldn't so much as draw in his breath before they had him. this is what i was thinking about when i said we shouldn't be caught off our guard; and that we'd be foolish if we separated at all, for they could pick us off one by one, where they'd be afraid to tackle the whole bunch. it came quicker than i thought it would, though." "well, we ain't going to stand for this, i hope?" remarked giraffe. "we'd be a fine lot of scouts, wouldn't we," broke in davy, indignantly, "if we were ready to desert our chum when he was in hard luck? anybody that knows what the boys of the silver fox patrol of cranford troop are would make certain that could never go down with them. sure we ain't ameaning to keep on hiding our light under a bushel, and sneaking off, while bumpus, good old bumpus, is in the hands of the enemy, and p'raps with a splitting headache in the bargain." "headache!" echoed step hen; "just wait till we get our chance, and if they ain't the fashion among these here poachers, then i don't know beans, and i think i do. wow! you hear me talking, fellows!" and he caused his club to fairly whistle through the air, as though getting into the swing, so that he would know just how to go about laying out one of the law-breakers when they finally rounded them up. "hope we ain't meaning to waste any more time around here than's necessary, mr. scout-master?" giraffe observed, grimly, running his finger suggestively along the edge of the camp hatchet, which they kept in pretty good condition, so that it would really cut quite well. "we're off right away," said the other. "and thad," observed allan, speaking for the first time, because he was usually a boy of few words, and one who left it to some of the others to do pretty much all the talking, "the new trail, where we fail to find any mark of bumpus' shoes leads this way, which i take it is toward that shack you said you'd seen last night when you took that little scout on the sly?" "it sure does, allan," came the reply. "well, then, we must expect that was where they carried our chum; and so we'll make for the cabin now," allan continued. "we'll see it soon enough," thad told them, "because it's only a little ways from where they have their powerboat hidden. move along as still as you can, boys; and no more talking now--except in whispers." every scout must have felt his heart beating like a trip-hammer as the forward progress was continued. the very atmosphere around them seemed to be charged with electricity; at least one would imagine so to see the way they looked suddenly from right to left with quick movements, as they went stooping along. it was only a space of sixty seconds or so when thad came to a stop. they knew from this that the cabin spoken of must already have been sighted; and this proved to be the case, as was made apparent when they came to examine the territory just ahead. among the rocks and undergrowth it could hardly be seen; indeed, if they had not known of its presence there, possibly none of them would have thought a cabin was so near by. they stared hard at it, but failed to see the first sign of any living being in the neighborhood. "any signs of 'em, thad?" whispered giraffe, who was close at the heels of the scout-master; so close indeed, that thad had more than once wondered whether the tall and nervous scout were still waving that up-to-date tomahawk, and if he the leader, might be so unlucky as to get in the way of the dangerous weapon. "nothing that i can see," thad answered, softly. "but you think they're in that place, don't you?" giraffe continued to ask. "like as not they are," the scout-master replied. all of them were staring hard at what they now saw. having continued to advance a little farther they made out what seemed to be a lot of barrels; and some of them must have contained ice, to judge from the straw scattered about. well, ice was needed in order to properly pack fish for the market; and if the poachers had ever had a supply on the island, secured during the winter time, it must have been exhausted before now, because the season was late. yes, and what was more to the point, as the breeze happened to waft an odor to their noses all of the scouts detected the strong and unmistakable smell of fish, which must always be associated with every fishing camp. "are we agoing to walk straight up to that door, and knock it in?" asked giraffe, after they had stood there for a couple of anxious minutes, staring hard at the lone shack, as though trying to peer through the log walls, and see what lay within. "that might be hardly the thing for scouts to do," thad told him. "they are taught to be cautious as well as brave. if those men happen to be hiding inside there, wouldn't they have a fine chance to riddle us if we walked right up as big, as camels? no, we've got to show a little strategy in this thing, eh, allan?" "just what we have, mr. scout-master." "so let's begin by circling around, and coming up on the shack from the other side," thad said this he started off, with the others skulking along behind, about like a comet is followed by its tail. they kept a bright lookout all the while, not meaning to let the poachers get the better of them by creeping away from the shack while the boys in khaki were carrying out this evolution. nothing however was seen. if the men were still in there they kept very quiet, everybody thought; and somehow this worried more than one of the scouts. giraffe could not see what all this creeping around was intended for, anyhow; he would have been in favor of separating, and rushing toward the cabin from as many points of the compass as there were scouts. that sort of plan at least had the benefit of speed; for they would either be at the door inside of ten seconds, or have been staggered with a volley from within. but it would not be for much longer, because even now they had made such good progress that a few minutes more must put them through. it seemed an age to giraffe since they had started to creep to the other side of the shack; when he saw by the actions of their leader that thad was now ready to order the real advance. there did not appear to be any sign of a window on this side of the rude building, so that the chances were no one inside could watch their coming; which giraffe well knew had been the principal reason why thad had chosen to make this rear approach. "now listen, all of you," whispered the leader, in thrilling tones; "i'm going to call out to bumpus, and perhaps we'll get a clue regarding what's happened to him." raising his voice, he called out the name of the fat scout twice in succession, being very particular to speak it distinctly, so that any one within would have to be absolutely deaf not to hear it. there was no reply, that is, nothing in the way of an answering voice; but all of them caught a peculiar sound that kept up intermittently for almost a full minute. "now, what sort of a queer rumpus would you call that?" asked step hen. "made me think of somebody kicking his heels into the floor, or some such stunt as that," giraffe declared; while davy nodded his head, as though there was no need for him to say anything when another voiced his sentiments so exactly. "thad, are we going to stand this any longer?" allan demanded, "no, we must see what's inside that place; so come along, boys, and we'll break in the door!" with which words the scout-master ran quickly forward, the others almost outstripping him, so great was their eagerness to be "in the swim," no matter what happened. the door seemed to be fastened in some way; though there was nothing in the way of a pistol shot or even a gruff voice warning them off. thad tried in vain to find the fastening. "pick up that log, and use it as a battering ram!" he ordered; and the other four scouts hastened to do so, while the patrol leader stood ready with his gun, not knowing how soon he might have need of it for defense. as the log came crashing against the door it flew wide open, proving that it had never been really intended as a means for keeping enemies out. dropping the log, and at once snatching up their weapons, the scouts rushed to the open doorway, to stare into the cabin. what they saw amazed, and yet delighted them. there was not an enemy in sight; but some object moved upon the hard puncheon floor; and looking closer they discovered that it was no other than bumpus, bound hand and foot, gagged, and with his face as red as a boiled lobster, redder by far than his fiery hair. chapter xxv not so green as he looked the only reason that bumpus did not call out help! was because the rough gag, consisting of a cloth tied about the lower part of his face, prevented him from saying a single word. it was a sight that staggered the other scouts, although at the same time they felt considerable satisfaction at finding their lost churn so speedily, and thus learning that he had not come to very serious harm. there was an immediate rush made inside the shack, each seeming desirous of being the first to render bumpus assistance. all but the scoutmaster entered in this promiscuous way, and thad was too wise a bird to be caught with chaff. what if this should be some sort of a trap, into which the rest of the boys were rushing headlong? he did not stop to consider how they might be caught, but made up his mind that it was policy on his part to stand guard there at the door. there were more than enough hands to free the prisoner, and he would not be missed in that way. so thad, handling his ready gun suggestively, and keeping a keen lookout for signs of trouble, stood there, waiting for the rest to come out. amidst more or less confusion bumpus was unbound, after that gag had been removed from his mouth. the first thing he did was to breathe heavily, as though during his confinement he had not been able to get his wind as freely as he liked. then, when he could get on his feet with the help of step hen and giraffe, he stamped on the cloth that had done duty as a preventative of speech. "oh! what haven't i suffered, having that measly old thing under my nose for ages, and this smell of fish everywhere around me!" he exclaimed, as though fairly bursting with indignation. "how long have i been shut up here, anyway, fellows? seems like days and weeks must a passed since they took me. i kinder lost my senses i reckon, after that chap dropped on top of me, like the mountain was acoming down. please tell me what day of the week this is?" at this the others looked puzzled. "why, you sure must be locoed, bumpus, to get so twisted as that!" declared giraffe. "i should say he was!" echoed davy. "why, this is the same morning after the storm, don't you know, bumpus, really and truly it is," step hen went on to assert, with a ring of pity in his voice. "and, say, did you think it was to-morrow, or the next day, and we'd just about forgotten we had a chum who was missing? well, if this don't take the cake, i never heard the beat of it." "fetch him outside so i can ask a few questions!" called thad just then. "yes, for goodness sake get me where i can have a whiff of clean air; i'm nearly dead with this fishy smell. i always did hate to handle fish after they got over their jumping stage, and this is awful!" bumpus wailed. "it certain is," muttered giraffe, holding his fingers up to his nose. so they all bustled out of the door, where they found the scout-master on duty; and all at once it struck the other fellows how smart thad had been in holding back at the time the rush was made to free bumpus. "oh! this is a thousand per cent better!" the late prisoner declared, with genuine thanksgiving in his tones, as he fairly reveled in the clear air that had been purified by the recent blow. "i heard you asking what day this was, and from that we understand that you must have lost your senses for a while, and got mixed up?" thad remarked. "that's what happened, thad," replied the other, promptly enough. "well, it's not only the same morning after the storm," continued the other, "but just about an hour after you went off to hunt for your belt. i see you found the same, and that they made good use of it to fasten your arms behind your back." bumpus looked astonished, as though what he heard was hard to believe; for he shook his head slowly, and observed: "tell me about that, will you? well, sir, that was the longest hour that ever happened to me in all my life!" "hold on!" corrected giraffe, "you're forgetting that time you tripped in the dark, and fell over a precipice a thousand feet deep, and hung there from the top, yelling for help. we came galloping to the spot, and rescued you, about as limp as a dish-rag; and you told us how you'd suffered such agonies that you lived ten years, and wanted to know if your hair had turned white. but when we held the light over the top of that awful precipice, and showed you that the ground was just about six inches below your toes as you dangled there, why, you made out that it was all a good joke, and that anyhow you'd given the rest of us a bad scare." bumpus grinned, as though the recollection rather amused him now. "but this time it was different, giraffe, because they wanted me to tell, and i just wouldn't. then the big man who was leader, gave me a knock on the head, he was so mad at me, and i keeled over a second time. that's when i thought days had passed, when i heard you fellows talking outside, and after that an earthquake came knocking down the door. my! but i was glad to see the bunch come piling in, you can take it from me. never will forget it, i give you my word, boys!" "but see here, bumpus," said thad, "what do you mean when you say you refused to tell? of course all of us know how stubborn you can be, when you take a notion; but what could these men want to get out of you that you'd refuse to let go? not any information about us, i should think?" "well, hardly," replied the other. "you see, they had me tied up, and that horrible fishy rag fastened around my mouth so i couldn't talk; but the fellow that could speak united states bettern'n either of the others told me to nod my head if i promised to show 'em where i'd hid it; but every time i shook it this way," and he proceeded to give an emphatic demonstration of what a negative shake might be. "but what had you hid away that they wanted so badly?" persisted thad. bumpus grinned, and raised one of his eyebrows in a comical manner. "oh! that was a little trick of mine," he remarked, composedly. "p'raps the rest of you'll give me credit for being a mite smart when i tell you. but in order to make you understand, just wait till i go back to the time i left camp to look for this belt." "that's the best way, i should think," agreed giraffe, who knew from experience how hard it sometimes proved to drag the details of a story from bumpus. "oh! i ain't meaning to string it out everlastingly!" declared the other. "i'm going to be right to the point, see if i don't. well, after i picked up my belt i just happened to remember what thad had told us about that concealed boat belonging to the queer chaps who were hiding on this island; and before i knew hardly what i was doing i found myself aboard the same, nosing around. "all at once it struck me what a bad job for us it'd be if they took a notion to skip out after the wind and waves went down, and left us here by our lonely. so i made up a cute little plan calculated to block that game right in the start. what did i do? just unfastened the crank they used to start the engine agoing and hid the same under my coat. i was meaning to fetch it to our camp, so we could make terms with the men, when i thought i saw somebody slip around a tree and, on the impulse of the moment, as they say in the books, i just let that handle drop into the hollow of a stump i happened to be passing." "good for you, bumpus!" exclaimed giraffe, patting the other on the shoulder. "well, it wasn't so very good for me in one way," the fat scout remarked, with one hand tenderly caressing a bump he seemed to have on his head; "because that same little trick got a fellow of my size in heaps of trouble right away. but you know how i hate to give a thing up, boys; and once i'd done this job i was bent on holding out to the bitter end. "well, to make a long story short, the next thing i knew i didn't know anything, because that big clodhopper came down from a tree right on top of me, and one of his shoes must a struck me on the head right here, for it hurts like the mischief. "when i came to my senses i was fixed up like you saw, and inside this old fish house. honest boys, first thing, before i got a good look around, i thought i had died, and was amouldering in my grave. the three men were hanging over me, ajabbering like so many monkeys or poll parrots. then the big fellow with the black beard began to throw all sorts of questions at me, which i managed to understand. "seems like they had gone to the boat after leaving me here, p'raps meaning to take chances out on the lake, waves or no waves, because they thought if they stayed any longer they were agoing to be gobbled by the soldiers, sure pop. and then they missed that old crank. course they knowed i'd been pottering around their boat, and they wanted to find out what i did with the handle, because it happens you can't start that engine like some i've seen, in an emergency, without the crank. "we had it pretty warm back and forth for a session, him a firing questions at me, sometimes in french, and again in mixed english; and me a shaking my head right and left to tell him i wouldn't give up the information, not if he kept going for a coon's age. and sudden like, he got so fiery mad he just slapped me over the head, and i admit i lost all interest in things on this same earth till i came to, and heard voices outside that seemed familiar like. you know the rest, boys; now let's get away from this place in a hurry. i'll taste rank fish for a month of sundays, sure i will. ugh!" "wait, don't be in such a hurry, bumpus," said thad. "first of all i want to say that you've done a smart thing, even if it was reckless; because with that boat in our hands we can really leave sturgeon island any time we want, once the lake quiets down some. and on the way back to camp we'll just pick up that crank, after which all we have to do is to make sure these three frightened men don't jump in on us, and take us by surprise. but while we're here we ought to see what they've got that makes them want to avoid the officers who patrol the lakes looking for smugglers, game-fish poachers and the like." "give me the gun then, thad," said allan, promptly, as he saw the other glance toward him; "and i'll stay out here on guard while some of the rest investigate." "thanks, that pleases me," replied the scout-master, relinquishing the weapon that had proved to be worth its weight in silver to them, in that it cowed the trio of lawless men who had their headquarters on sturgeon island. chapter xxvi the skies begin to brighten it was not very light inside the cabin, so that the first thing thad did in his customary energetic way was to take a lantern from a hook, and put a match to the wick. after that they could see better. "don't seem, to be much of anything around here now that we can see half-way decent," remarked giraffe. "oh i ain't there?" said bumpus, who was, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, "now, it strikes me there's a whole lot, when you come to think." "however those men could sleep in here beats me?" ejaculated step hen, who was not looking very happy himself, as he sniffed around. "oh! mebbe you'll kinder get a little used to it after awhile," bumpus assured him, in a tone meant to be comforting. "i don't believe they did sleep in here at all," thad remarked, after he had been spying around a little longer. "you can't see a sign of a bed, or a blanket, or even leaves in a corner to tell where anybody laid down." "and outside of these few old oilskin rags that they use to wear in their business," added giraffe, "and hung up on nails along this wall, there ain't anything to tell that they stayed here. say, thad, whatever do you think this shack could a been used for?" "where's your nose?" demanded bumpus at that juncture. "yes," thad went on to say, "that's about the only thing you need to tell you, giraffe. seems like they must store their catch here until they get enough on hand to pay to stop work, and pack and ship the same out. let's look around. what d'ye call this but a kind of trap in the floor?" "it sure is, thad," admitted the tall scout, promptly. "looks like it had been used a heap, in the bargain," advanced step hen. "why, of course, because there must be some sort of well underneath the house, where they keep ice all the while, and drop the fish in as they net them. perhaps one reason why they hate to leave here in a rush is that they've got illegal nets out in different places right now, which cost a heap of money, and they hate to let them go. hand me that strip of iron, please, davy. looks to me as if they use this to pry up the trap. there, what did i tell you?" as the scout-master said this he managed to skillfully raise the square that was cut in the floor of the cabin. underneath the old building there must have been a natural well in among the rocks; for as thad held the lantern over so that all of the boys could see, they discovered what looked like a cellar of solid stone, some fifteen feet deep, and with a ladder at one side that was doubtless used as a means of passing up and down. "well! i declare! look at the piles of fine fish, will you?" exclaimed step hen. "all sorts too--trout, white fish, and even black bass, whoppers at that!" added davy, staring at such a remarkable sight. "they must take these in some way that's against the law!" thad declared. "their suspicious actions prove that, plain enough." "that's the greatest lot of game fish i ever saw together!" giraffe ventured, "and if such things keep going on, chances are even the great lakes'll be drained of decent sport before many years. it's a shame, that's what it is." bumpus was the only one who had made no remark; but all the same he seemed to be busy. they saw him dive into a pocket, and what should he fetch out brut a stout fish line wound around a bobbin, and with a hook attached. this he immediately began unrolling so that the end carrying hook and sinker fell down toward the bottom of the pit. "look at bumpus, would you?" exclaimed step hen; "he's gone clean dippy, that's what? thinks he's out on the lake, and these fish are swimming down there waitin' to bite at his bait! poor old bumpus, that knock on the head was too much for him!" "was, hey?" snapped the object of this commiseration, as he went on unreeling his line; "you just wait and see whether i've lost my mind, or if i ain't as bright as a button. see that buster of a trout alying there on top? well, that beats the record so far; and if i can only tip my hook under his gill i'm meaning to yank him up here the quickest you ever saw. guess the rules and regulations of our watch only said a fellow had to catch his fish with hook and line; it never told that they had to be alive, and swimming, not a word of it. you watch me win that championship right here!" "there's a fish pile down in the cellar," spoke up the rival of bumpus, indignantly, "and what d'ye think, bumpus here means to fetch up a lot of 'em with his hook and line, and count the same against me. hey! guess two can play at that sort of game, if there's going to be anything in it; so look out; because i'm after that same big trout myself." twice bumpus managed to get his hook where it seemed to catch upon the monster trout's exposed gill, and with a cry of triumph he started to pull in; but on one occasion the slender hold his hook had taken broke away; and the second time it chanced that giraffe had managed to fasten his barb somewhere about the dorsal fin of the fish, so that there was an immediate struggle for supremacy, with the usual result in such cases that the anticipated prize fell back, and was lost to both contestants. "tell them to let up on that silly business, and let's get out of here, thad," said step hen, when this thing had gone on for some time, with no result save a weariness to the two rivals. "but seems to me," dave put in just then, "that couple of them same trout and white fish would be mighty tasty dish for a bunch of scouts i know of who always carry their appetites with them." when giraffe heard him say that, he suddenly seemed to lose all his fierceness as a contestant for honors. "here, let's stop this business, bumpus, because i ain't agoing to let you grab up any fish that easy like; and i reckon you feel the same way about me. anyhow, i leave it to thad here if it's a sportsmanlike way of scoring in our game? if he says no, why i'm willing to let you hook up some of the beauties for our dinner; or to make things more lively i agree to climb down that greasy old ladder and put 'em on the hook for you. how about it, mr. scout-master; is it fair?" "perhaps the letter of the law might favor such a course," he said, solemnly; "but we pretend to be sportsmen, all of us, and as such we go farther than that. and bumpus, you know very well that nothing of this kind was thought of when you made your wager with giraffe. as i was counted on to be the umpire i say now and here that the fish taken have to be alive at the time they are hooked, and swimming in the lake." "then that settles it, thad," chuckled bumpus, with a grin; "anyhow, i was only fooling, and wouldn't want to count honors won so cheap as this. but drop down there, giraffe, since you were so kind as to promise, and hook me on that gay fellow i nearly had two different times. let me feel how heavy he is? i'd go myself, but chances are i'd sure collapse down there, because already i'm feeling weak again, and that's the truth." giraffe evidently did not mean to go back on his word; and accordingly he carefully climbed over the edge of the opening, found a resting place for his feet on the top round of the ladder, and then began to slowly descend. first of all he hooked on the big trout, and gaily bumpus pulled the prize up, remarking at the time that it felt as though he were lifting a grindstone. when he lowered his line again giraffe had a splendid fresh looking white fish ready, and this he sent up, after the trout. "i just can't stand this any longer," the boy below called up; "and i'm acomin' right along with the next one, which ought to be a white fish, i reckon. oh! my! hope i don't keel over before i get to the top. if i do, please, please don't run away and leave me to my fate, boys!" perhaps giraffe was only joking, but it was noticed that when he hastily clambered out of the fish pit he made a streak for outdoors, still hanging on to his latest capture. in fact, as they had had enough of that thing, all of them hastened to follow the example set by the tall and lanky scout. outside they found allan examining the prize with considerable interest, while giraffe was fanning himself, and making all sorts of grimaces as he raised first one hand and then the other to his nose. "i'll step in and take a look now, while we're here," mentioned allan; "because i may never get another chance to see what a fish poacher's storage place is like." "queer where they've gone and hidden themselves," step hen remarked, as he looked all around as though half expecting to see a bearded face thrust out of the bushes, or above a pile of rocks near by. "well, just now they're in a sort of panic, and hardly know what to try next," thad told them. "of course they must see that we're only boys, after all; but from the fact that we wear uniforms they suppose we are connected in some way with the militia, and that perhaps a boatload of soldiers is even now on the way here, obeying some sort of wireless signal we've managed to transmit. they thought to seize bumpus, and perhaps get us all, one by one; but when they found that he had rendered their boat helpless they just threw up the sponge and quit." "well, i kinder feel a mite sorry for the rascals," step hen observed; whereupon the usually gentle bumpus, who could be depended on to forgive the first one of all, fired up, and burst out with: "then i ain't, not one whit; and i guess you wouldn't either, step hen bingham, if you had a lump as big as a hickory nut on top of your head, that felt as sore as a boil, and knew one of that crowd did it to you. ain't they breaking the law of the land; and every fish they take in their illegal nets or seines means one less for the fellow that fishes for sport, or the man that does business according to the rules and regulations. sorry, well i guess not! and when we move away with their old boat we'll send somebody with brass buttons over to sturgeon island to take off the marooners." "whew! listen to the savage monster, would you?" purred step hen; but bumpus had suffered too much to be in a forgiving humor, and he continued to shake his head ominously while he kept on breathing out threatenings, like saul of old. "now let's head for our camp," thad gave the order, when allan had joined them, and declared he had seen all he wanted of the fish poachers' storehouse. "i only hope they haven't stolen a march on us, and got away with our traps," davy happened to remark, as they stepped out at a lively rate. "what a job we'd have cookin' these fine fish, if we didn't have any frying-pan," was the first lament of giraffe. "and my blanket that i think so much of, i wouldn't like to lose that," bumpus told them; but thad gave it as his opinion that after the men had fled, upon hearing the voices of the boys near by, they must have fallen into such a panic that no doubt they were now in hiding away off at the other end of the island. "now don't forget to show us where you bid that crank belonging to the boat engine, bumpus," step, hen cautioned, as they strode along. "good thing you spoke of it when you did, step hen," the fat scout declared, "because here's the old stump right now. feel down, and see if it ain't there, somebody. here, let me do it myself, because i know just where it lies." in proof of his words bumpus speedily drew out the crooked bit of steel in question. "here you are, giraffe, like to like!" he sang out gaily, as he tossed his find toward the tall scout. "i s'pose that's as much as calling me a crank," muttered giraffe; "but then, we'd take anything from you, bumpus, just now, we feel so good after your splendid work." of course upon receiving that fine compliment bumpus became contrite at once. "excuse me for saying that, giraffe," he called out; "because i reckon now you ain't one whit more a crank than some others in this crowd." and then noticing that step hen and davy were looking daggers at him, he hurriedly added, "particularly a stout feller they call bumpus for short instead of cornelius jasper hawtree." "my idea is about this," thad went on to say; "as we are going to depend so much on using this boat to get away in, we'd better make our camp right alongside; and in that way they won't have much chance to steal the same from us." "but ain't we going away soon?" asked davy, looking around him again, as though he still expected to see a party of furious poachers rush towards them, reinforcements having meanwhile arrived on the island. "not till that sea goes down a whole lot more," replied the scout-master; "and if that doesn't happen until late this afternoon i'm afraid we'll have to spend one more night on sturgeon island," which information the others did not hear with any degree of enthusiasm for they were all heartily tired of the place. chapter xxvii taken unawares, after all as there was no longer any necessity for their depending upon the shelter of the projecting ledge, since the sun was shining cheerily, the scouts set about changing camp. this did not take any great while, because they had no tents to bother with; and it was easy enough to gather up their blankets and the few things they had saved from the wreck of the chippeway belle. as none of them ever saw the first sign of that ill-fated boat again, it was always taken for granted that when the wind shifted in the night, at the time thad drew attention to the fact, the strain became so great that the anchor cable had to give way, allowing the still floating boat to be carried out into deep water before the end came. they found the anchor where it had been placed, with the rope broken part way out, and this told the story as well as words could have. and so camp was made close by the boat belonging to the fish poachers, which it must be their duty to guard, so that later on they could make use of the same in order to escape from the island. the waves did not go down as rapidly as the boys would have liked, and when high noon came they were still rolling along in a way that was dangerous to any small craft, especially on such a great inland sea as superior is, with harbors few and far between. thad admitted that the chances of their getting away that day did not look good to him. giraffe was the only real cheerful fellow in the party, and as he superintended the cooking of the delicious white fish for lunch he was heard to express his opinion several times. "well, one thing good about it is that there's enough fish on the ice down in that well to last us till christmas; and it's to be hoped that somebody with a boat comes along before then, to take us off; or we can get this chunky craft of the poachers to working some. but let me tell you, that same fish does smell grand to me. needn't make a face, bumpus, because you think you'll never eat fish again. it's either that or go hungry with this crowd." "but the white fish, like all other delicate fish, is only at its best when eaten on the spot where it's caught," thad told them; "putting it on ice for days hurts the flavor, and sometimes it's just as tasteless as so much sawdust." "then this one was fresh caught," giraffe affirmed, as he looked hastily about, took up the last bit that was in the second pan, and asked: "anybody want this; if nobody else does, i'm johnny on the spot." "well, i declare, i like that!" burst out step hen; "did you see him swing that pan around, and before a fellow could even open his mouth to say yes, he had that last big piece in his tin dish. oh! well, since you've got to be filled up, or you get to growling, go ahead and bolt, it; only look out for bones. if one ever got fastened in that rubber neck of yours, giraffe, nobody's fingers could ever reach it. and as hard luck would have it, i left my fish disgorger at home." giraffe never minded this sort of talk, for he was making away with the last of the fish with his usual speed. "bones never trouble him at all," remarked bumpus, who was always telling about dreaming of choking to death on a fish-bone. "that's where you're wrong," chuckled step hen; "they trouble him a whole lot, every time he sits down, i reckon, because nature ain't been so kind to our long friend as to you, bumpus." joking in this style they finished their meal, and the afternoon stared them in the face. it promised to be a long stretch, if they had to stay there until another morning. bumpus and giraffe presently got their lines out, and finding a place near by where it seemed safe to remain, they started to try and add to their score. "let's call it off, bumpus," suggested giraffe, who was getting weary. "what's the use of all this bother, when we've got a storehouse cram-full of fine fresh fish close at hand, so we sure don't need this sort of a job for the sake of filling our stomachs. anyhow, you can keep it up if you feel like it; i'm dead sleepy after passing such a night; and we ought to get some rest." "that's so," echoed bumpus, just as if he had been on guard every minute of the previous night, "and as like as not we'll have to be keeping one eye open to-night again, who knows?" "one?" cried giraffe, looking sharply at him; and then shaking his head he went on to add: "but i said i wasn't agoing to poke fun at you this whole day, bumpus, after what you done. course you can't help it if you get sleepy, any more'n i can about being hungry all the time. so let's call it a draw, and quit kidding." "what's that smoke over there mean?" asked step hen, a short time later; and even giraffe, who was trying to get some sleep, sat up on hearing this. "hurrah! mebbe it's a rescue boat coming out after us!" cried davy, standing on his hands, and kicking his heels in the air, just as the ordinary boy might clap his hands together. "what do you say, thad?" asked giraffe, cautiously, having arisen to his feet, and stretched his long neck in the endeavor to see better than his chums. "well," remarked the scout-master, after he had made a mental calculation; "you notice, don't you, that it comes from toward the other end of the island." "yes, that's a fact, thad," slowly admitted davy, who had now returned to his normal condition, with his head higher than his heels; though some of the boys often declared that the reverse was true, and that he seemed more natural when hanging head downward from the limb of a tree, like a giant bat or a monkey. "and there isn't enough of it to make me think a boat could be coming," thad went on to say. "in fact, the chances are those men, as badly frightened as they are, have to eat, and i think they've lighted a fire to cook something." "oh! is that all?" grunted giraffe, immediately dropping back upon his blanket; "please don't wake me up again for such a silly thing as that; though of course i can feel for 'em if they are really hungry." acting on the advice of thad the other boys managed to get some sleep from time to time, though they were very careful not to let the camp go unguarded. "we're going to be kept here on the island another night, seems like," he had told them, "and that means a constant watch. so far we've managed to hold our own, and we can't afford to get careless, and lose out." "i should say not," step hen had echoed, as he cuddled down to carry out the suggestion of the scout-master. along about half an hour before evening set in an expedition was arranged to pay another friendly visit to the fish preserves of the poachers. they wanted to get enough supplies this time to cover several meals, so that they would be able to feel that they had food for the next day, should they be able to make the start in the morning. now bumpus would much rather have remained behind; but it was a choice between two evils with him. his recollections of the harsh methods by means of which the poachers tried to get him to give up his secret were still fresh in his mind; so was his detestation of that fishy odor that clung to the shack. but thad would not let him have any choice in the matter, telling him that he must accompany the expedition, and carry home his share of the spoils, though giraffe had promised to again drop down into the pit, and send up all they wanted. they met with no adventure on the way, nor were they interrupted in their task of securing a store of fish food for present necessities, and looking into the near future a bit. giraffe managed his end of the labor manfully. he suffered a great deal, he admitted; but then, somebody had to take on the hard jobs; and as no one else volunteered he just had to be the "goat." "oh! as if we don't know the real reason," step hen declared, indignantly. "if you wasn't so crazy after eating all the time, i guess now you'd be the last one to go down there of your own free will. but that ain't saying we ain't glad of it. 'taint often we get a chance to harness that appetite of yours to something that pays. go on down a few more times, giraffe; we might toddle along under another fish apiece." "not much i will," grunted the other; "six trips is the limit for anybody with a weak stomach." "weak stomach-what, you?" cried step hen, scornfully throwing up his hands. the tall scout however did not want to be drawn into an argument just then, since that would only delay their departure from the cabin and all that it spoke of in such a distinct way. he darted in again, however, for a last visit, and vanished down the pit; to appear a minute later holding the largest fish they had as yet run across. "there, what d'ye think of that for a jim dandy, fellows?" he cried. "and bumpus, take a good look at him, because i'm bound to hook the mate to this next time we get out our lines. i'm not only a weather prophet, but there are times when i feel it in my bones that something is going to happen." he tripped just then, and took a header, whereupon bumpus, with pretended sympathy, hurried to his side, and offered to help him get up, saying; "oh! giraffe, that was the time your bones told you the truth, didn't they; and i reckon your knee joints are skinned some after that tumble, too?" giraffe may have been suffering all sorts of agonies at the time, but of course he was not going to let the others see him wince; so he smiled sweetly as he once more gained his feet, and took up the big fish, saying at the same time: "don't mention it; i'm all right, bumpus." but they could see him limp more or less as they headed for the camp by the captured motorboat of the fish poachers. of course, when they went off like this they made sure to carry the crank belonging to the engine along with them, so that even if the enemy did enter the camp during their absence they could not run away with the craft, which on account of the make of motor was practically helpless as soon as the crank was gone. "here we are, right-side up with care; plenty of grub, and no damage done except that we've decreased the stock of fish supplies the poachers have laid by," step hen was heard to declare; and though giraffe gave him a pained look, and unconsciously rubbed his injured knee, he did not make any remark to the contrary. and when it came time to get supper ready he was apparently just as able to move around as ever, barring a slight limp. of course they kept close watch all the while, not wishing to be taken by surprise, should the enemy muster up enough courage to attempt some desperate trick, possibly looking to making the scouts prisoners, so that they could once more secure the valuable crank, and go away on board their boat. thad himself had managed to secure some rest during the day, because he knew that another hard night awaited him. as on the previous occasion he told the others they could sit up if they chose, and keep both he and allan company; and just as had happened before all of them tried hard to accommodate; but before one hour passed poor bumpus had fallen by the wayside; and then soon afterward davy, giraffe and step hen all found themselves unable to hold out. since they had really undergone considerable in the way of privation and excitement of late, thad did not have the heart to blame them. he believed that with the one faithful chum alongside, he could take as good care of the camp as though the whole six were on duty. the time dragged along until it must have been close on midnight; and so far nothing out of the way had happened, though the sentries did not relax their vigilance on that account, for they were too good woodsmen to think of that. as the boat had been secured with all the available ropes, and a part of the engine dismantled in the bargain, neither of the scouts dreamed that the enemy would aim to strike a blow at them in that quarter. they could not carry the boat off; and even granting that this were possible, it would be useless, since they had no means for running the same. still another hour had crept along, and thad was just beginning to congratulate himself on the way the night was passing, when without the least, warning there came a sudden flash of light down in the rocky berth where the boat lay; immediately succeeded by a deafening crash. up into the air arose burning fragments of the poacher's boat; and this was the startling spectacle that greeted the astonished eyes of the silver fox scouts who had been sweetly sleeping, as they sat up and stared around them. chapter xxviii good-eye to sturgeon island--conclusion all sorts of loud cries and exclamations arose, as the startled boys began to dodge the falling pieces of the blown-up boat. thad, although almost stunned by the sudden catastrophe that had come upon them, in spite of their vigilance, kept a bright lookout, for fear lest the next thing they knew the poachers would come dashing among them, hoping to take advantage of the confusion to disarm them. but nothing of the sort occurred, and presently the six boys huddled there in a heap, trying to figure out what had happened, and why the three men had resorted to such desperate tactics rather than allow the seeming soldiers to sail away in the morning, and perhaps carry the news to some place where the authorities would be sure to fit out an expedition at once, looking to their capture. after a great deal of talk, and many odd ideas being advanced, which it would not profit us to mention here, they settled on what seemed to be the most plausible theory. this was that the three poachers, believing they could not make use of their boat so long as the boys in uniform held the key, in the shape of that crank, had decided to blow it up. their reason for this may have been that they would in this way compel the others to remain marooned there on the island; and perhaps it was expected that another boat, with a fresh lot of poachers, would be along after a certain time. this was the nearest they could ever come to it, for they did not have a chance to make the personal acquaintance of the three hide-out men, and therefore could not get information at first quarters. when the morning came the scouts were not so merry as they had felt on the previous evening when all things looked rather rosy. still, it is difficult to keep some fellows moping all the time; and even giraffe tried hard to look at the bright side; thought he often complained that he had consider difficulty in making up his mind which side that was. as long as the food supply held out, giraffe was not going to give up to despair; even if fish as a steady diet might pall on the ordinary appetite, giraffe thought he could stand the bill of fare for a week or two, if they had to stick it out that long. thad kept them on the watch for some sort of vessel, steamer, sailing craft, whaleboat barge or anything that would afford an asylum, if only they could by the greatest of good luck attract the attention of those on board. as the morning got pretty well along the boys were beginning to feel downcast once more, when all at once step hen, who had been using the glasses at the time, let out a joyous whoop. "would you believe it, fellows," he cried, "while we've been nearly breaking our necks looking to the east and south for a sail, why, here's a little buzzing motorboat acoming along an the same tack we carried; and ten chances to one now, it's carrying our two good silver fox pards, smithy and bob white!" all of them had to take a look through the glasses, and the consensus of opinion seemed to trend that way; though at first some of the more dubious were inclined to fear that it might only be another poaching boat, that was coming straight to the island to land a catch of illegally taken fish. "get busy right away, and let them know where we are!" exclaimed bumpus, all of a tremble with anxiety. "goodness gracious! just think how we'd feel if they went speeding past old sturgeon island, never heating us yell; because the breeze was wrong. bang away with the gun, thad, and make 'em look! do something that'll stir things up! wish i could let out a whoop that'd carry ten miles, you'd hear me spreading myself some, i tell you." but all bumpus's fears were useless, for those aboard the little motorboat that had really come all the way from the soo, starting earlier than thad and his five companions, heard the combined shouts, and signaled that they would head in without delay. "say, couldn't you hold up a little while, and let me go back after a few more of those fine fish?" pleaded giraffe, when the rescuing craft was drawing close; and when the scout-master shook his head in the negative the tall member went on: "you never know how much grub you need when on one of these here lake trips, with the chances in favor of something happening to knock the engine out. besides, remember there will be two more mouths to feed, thad; and sure i could snatch up some of them fish in a jiffy. say yes, won't you?" "no need of it, giraffe," the other assured the lean scout; "it's true that we'll have a couple more with us, but don't forget that they are expected to have a pretty good supply of food aboard as it is. then who wants to live on fish diet." "and we'll get to a place right soon," added bumpus, "where we can lay in all the stores we want." "yes," step hen thought fit to remark, "and then too, if we loaded down so with too much fish, what's ever going to become of that game you and bumpus are working? we expect to have the table supplied right along now with the product of your combined skills as anglers." "oh!" chuckled giraffe, "after all that honey, i give up, and agree to let things run as they are. but i want to warn the said bumpus here and now that i'm camping on his trail; and from this time out the fight is agoing to be just fierce!" "bah! who's afraid?" sang out the fat scout, with a shrug of his shoulders. "everybody get their things together so we can climb aboard as soon as our comrades come close enough to shore. we may have to wade a little, for the landing places are few and far between, and we don't want to take any chances." "then i hope some kind friend will have the goodness to carry me on his back; because i sure hate to get my footsies soaked again," remarked bumpus, unabashed. it turned out, however, that there was no need of this. the two boys in the motorboat knew how to manage, and brought the little vessel in close enough so that even clumsy bumpus was able to clamber aboard, after handing up his possessions. and thad smiled when he saw that the other included among these the rusty crank belonging to the destroyed boat which the poachers had used in their illegal business, evidently romantic bumpus meant to keep that as a reminder of his little adventure on sturgeon island. smithy and bob white were two of the silver fox patrol whom many readers will remember figuring largely in previous books of this series of boy scout tales. they were instantly almost consumed with eagerness to know what had happened to maroon their chums on the island; but until they had passed some distance out thad would not attempt to relate the stirring circumstances. "looky, there they are, ashaking their fists after us; and i reckon they're letting out a few remarks that might burn our ears if we heard the same, which the breeze keeps us from doing," and giraffe, as he spoke, pointed to where the trio of lawless poachers stood on a rock near the other end of the island. that was the last they were fated to see of the men. later on they happened to enter a canadian port in search of supplies, and of course thad made it an object to narrate their adventure to some person in authority. the boys heard afterwards that an expedition was at once started out by the canadian people, looking to the capture of the poacher crowd, and the breaking up of their illegal business; but apparently the other boat must have arrived before them; for while they found the ice pit, just as the boys had described to them, the fish were all gone, nor did a search of the entire island reveal any sign of human occupation. of course it did not matter at all to thad and his chums whether the three men were ever apprehended, as they did not expect to cruise in this region again and consequently there was no chance of their ever meeting any of them afterwards. they would never be apt to forget the strange things that had come to them however, while marooned on sturgeon island; and often when they pored over the government charts that thad kept, they could see again in memory many of those adventures looming up along the mental horizon the wreck of the boat; the lively time they had getting ashore; the discovery of the fish packing cabin; the mysterious disappearance of bumpus; how he was found again under such remarkable conditions; the blowing up of the poachers' boat; and last but not least the opportune arrival of their mates with the other craft. no doubt many a time the very odor of fish would carry the thoughts of those boys away back to this period in their adventurous careers. not that it marked the culmination of the good times fortune had in store for them; because before many months passed a splendid chance was going to come along that would give the members of the silver fox patrol an opportunity to enjoy another outing, this time while the north, where their home town lay, was swathed in snow and ice. the title of this next book will be "the boy scouts down in dixie; or, the strange secrets of alligator swamp." and the reader of this volume may rest assured that the adventure's befalling thad and his jolly mates, allan, giraffe, bumpus, davy, smithy, step hen and the southern boy, bob white, will afford them as rich a treat in the new story as anything that has preceded it. as to that wager between giraffe and bumpus, it kept dragging along during the balance of the cruise, sometimes one, and then the other being ahead. but luck finally favored giraffe, as on the very last day, with the score a tie, he happened to be trailing a stout line out, when his hook became fast to the tail of a big fish that came near pulling him overboard before he succeeded in landing the same, after the engine was hurriedly stopped. after that bumpus threw up his hands, and said he would wait on the crowd when they had their dinner upon arriving home; which he certainly did, and with such success that the boys voted he continue to accept "tips" in that vocation whenever they were in camp, bumpus vigorously dissenting, of course. thad learned later an that the poor old chippeway belle was fully insured, and no word of complaint ever reached them after they had furnished the owner with all the evidence he needed in order to collect the amount; so there may have been a little truth in what several of the scouts hinted among themselves, that the sinking of the powerboat cleared the air, and allowed the gentleman to replace her with a newer model. "blessings often come, in disguise," bumpus says, as he looks up at that rusty crank, tied with a red bow of ribbon, and hanging from the wall of his den at home; and then feeling of his head to ascertain whether that lump has fully subsided, he is apt to go on to remark that sometimes they even drop down from trees, and give a fellow the queerest kind of a thump; for if he had not conceived that little plan of hiding a part of the machinery belonging to the poachers' boat, things might have turned out vastly different from what they did. the end note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) transcriber's note: italic text is surrounded by _underscores_ and bold text is surrounded by =equal signs=. camp fires of the wolf patrol * * * * * primrose edition [illustration: the hickory ridge boy scouts] a series of boys' books by captain alan douglas scout master i. the camp fires of the wolf patrol their first camping experience affords the scouts splendid opportunities to use their recently acquired knowledge in a practical way. elmer chenowith, a lad from the north-west woods, astonishes everyone with his familiarity with camp life. a clean, wholesome story every boy should read. ii. woodcraft; or, how a patrol leader made good this tale presents many stirring situations in which some of the boys are called upon to exercise all their ingenuity and unselfishness. a story filled with healthful excitement. iii. pathfinder; or, the missing tenderfoot some mysteries are cleared up in a most unexpected way, greatly to the credit of our young friends. a variety of incidents follow fast, one after the other. iv. fast nine; or, a challenge from fairfield they show the same team-work here as when in camp. the description of the final game with the team of a rival town, and the outcome thereof, form a stirring narrative. one of the best baseball stories of recent years. v. great hike; or, the pride of the khaki troop after weeks of preparation the scouts start out on their greatest undertaking. their march takes them far from home, and the good-natured rivalry of the different patrols furnishes many interesting and amusing situations. vi. endurance test; or, how clear grit won the day few stories "get" us more than illustrations of pluck in the face of apparent failure. our heroes show the stuff they are made of and surprise their most ardent admirers. one of the best stories captain douglas has written. _cloth binding_ _cover illustrations in four colors_ the new york book company fourth avenue (near th st.) new york * * * * * camp fires of the wolf patrol complete roster, when the patrols were filled, of the hickory ridge troop of boy scouts mr. roderic garrabrant, scout master * * * * * the wolf patrol elmer chenowith, patrol leader, and also assistant scout master mark cummings ted (theodore) burgoyne toby (tobias) ellsworth jones "lil artha" (arthur) stansbury chatz (charles) maxfield phil (philip) dale george robbins the beaver patrol matty (matthew) eggleston, patrol leader "red" (oscar) huggins ty (tyrus) collins jasper merriweather tom cropsey larry (lawrence) billings hen (henry) condit landy (philander) smith the eagle patrol jack armitage, patrol leader nat (nathan) scott (others to be enlisted until this patrol has reached its legitimate number) * * * * * [illustration: it proved to be interesting work.] the hickory ridge boy scouts [illustration border] number one camp fires of the wolf patrol by captain alan douglas scout master [illustration] the new york book company new york copyright, , by the new york book company contents chapter page i.--in camp on the sweetwater ii.--the sudden peril iii.--ginger plays with fire iv.--a never-to-be-forgotten supper v.--what was it? vi.--the boy scouts' water-boiling test vii.--the lost sky traveler viii.--a blazed trail ix.--what the lone cabin contained x.--wigwagging from the mountain peak xi.--the hairy thief that walked on two legs xii.--laying a ghost xiii.--taken by surprise xiv.--the things that make boys manly xv.--how the trap worked xvi.--the last flickering camp fire dies out camp fires of the wolf patrol the hickory ridge boy scouts camp fires of the wolf patrol. chapter i. in camp on the sweetwater. a troop of khaki-clad boys had been marching, rather wearily perhaps, along a road that, judging from all indications, was not very much used by the natives. the afternoon was waning, so that a summer's night would soon begin to close in around them. dense woods lay in all directions, the foliage of which had afforded very pleasant shelter from the fierce rays of the august sun. "halt!" came the loud order. "hurrah! we're going into our first camp, fellows!" "is that so, mr. garrabrant?" "pull off your lids, boys, and give a salute!" "what a dandy old place for a camp. how d'ye suppose he came to pick this out, elmer?" "that's as easy to tell as falling off a log, toby. we have to use water to cook with; and just notice this fine stream running past us," returned the boy addressed, who seemed to be the second in command of the detachment of scouts. "besides," he added, "you forget that we aimed to reach the sweetwater river by evening, so that we could start up the current in our boats to-morrow morning. and this, i reckon, is the stream that we're looking for." "hurrah again, fellows! the day's hike is done. now for a bully rest!" "stand at attention, all! call the roll, secretary, to see if there are any stragglers!" the scout master commanded, as the small troop ranged up before him. this young man was mr. roderic garrabrant, who had only too gladly assumed the rôle he occupied, being greatly interested in the boy problem; and possessing a few fads and fancies he wished to work out by actual experience. his knowledge of woodcraft was not so very extensive; but the moral effect of his presence was expected to exert considerable benefit in connection with the dozen or more members of the hickory ridge troop of boy scouts. the small town of hickory ridge lay about seven miles due south of the place where they had struck the winding sweetwater; and the party had tramped this distance since noon. while it might not seem very far to those who are accustomed to long walks, there were a number among the scouts who had undoubtedly exceeded their record on this same afternoon. an exceedingly tall and ungainly lad, with long legs that seemed to just delight getting in the way at times, threatening to twist him in a knot, drew out a little pocket volume, and in a sing-song tone started to call off numerous names. each boy answered promptly when he heard his own name mentioned; and as they will very likely figure largely in our story, it might be just as well to take note of the manner in which arthur stansbury called them off: "members of the wolf patrol: elmer chenowith, mark cummings, ted burgoyne, toby ellsworth jones, arthur stansbury, and chatz maxfield. "members of the beaver patrol: matty eggleston, oscar huggins, tyrus collins, jasper merriweather, tom cropsey, lawrence billings. "unattached, but to form numbers one and two of the new eagle patrol: jack armitage and nathan scott." "we seem to be just two shy," observed mr. garrabrant, with a twinkle in his eye, as he turned toward elmer chenowith, who had recently received his certificate as assistant scout master from the national council, and was really qualified to take the place of the leader whenever the latter chanced to be absent. elmer raised his hand promptly in salute, as he made reply: "yes, sir; nat scott and jasper merriweather. they pegged out a mile or so back; and after examining their feet, and finding that they were really sore from walking, i gave them permission to ride on the commissary wagon, sir." now, of course mr. garrabrant knew all this perfectly well. he had actually watched the pair of tenderfeet only too gladly clamber aboard the wagon that bore the tents, food, extra clothing, and cooking outfit for the camp. but thus far did military tactics rule the boy scouts, that he was supposed to know nothing about such incidents until they had been reported to him in the proper manner, as provided for in the system. "suppose then you notify them, mr. bugler," said the scout master, turning to mark cummings, who, besides being the especial chum of elmer, was really a fine musician, and naturally had been unanimously chosen as bugler for the new troop of scouts recently organized in hickory ridge. when the clear, penetrating notes of the bugle sounded through the neighboring woods, there came a faint but enthusiastic cheer from some point along the back trail. in addition, the waiting scouts could catch the plain creaking of a wagon, accompanied by encouraging words, spoken undeniably by a "gentleman of color." "git up dar, youse ol' sleepy-haid, andy jackson! wot youse t'ink we's gwine tuh do up hyah in dis neck ob de woods, hey? git a mobe on yuh, jawdge washington! jes' quit dat peekin' outen de tail end ob yuh eye at me! we ain't playin' dat ere game ob politics now; dis am real, honest, sure-nuff work. altogedder now, bofe ob youse; or de waggin dun stick in de mud of dis crick!" then followed a few whacks, as the energetic driver applied the goad, some startled snorts, in turn succeeded by another relay of faint cheers from the two footsore scouts aboard the wagon. and presently the lumbering vehicle, with its sweating steeds, halted alongside the site selected by the scout master as the spot for the first camp of the scouts' outing. an opening was readily found where ginger, the ebony driver, might urge his reluctant team to leave the hard road, and enter among the trees. immediately a scene of great bustle, and more or less confusion ensued; for it must be remembered that while the hickory ridge scouts may have drilled in the work of starting a camp, that was only theory, and the present was their first actual practice on record. the contents of the wagon were overhauled, and several tents started to go up on spots particularly selected by the leaders of the patrols, who had this duty in their sole charge. here elmer had a great advantage over all his fellows, since he had spent much of his life up in the canadian northwest, where his father had held a position as manager to extensive lands that were being farmed on a colossal scale, until a year or so previous, when, being left a snug little fortune, mr. chenowith had decided to return to his native state, to settle down for the balance of his days. of course the boy had picked up a considerable amount of useful knowledge during his stay in that country of vast distances, which was likely to prove of use to him in his experiences as a scout. they had elected him as president of the troop, and he had readily been given the position of scout leader in the wolf patrol because of this wide range of knowledge pertaining to the secrets of outdoor life. it had also been mainly instrumental in securing for him the coveted certificate from headquarters, recognizing him as a capable assistant to mr. garrabrant. elmer could toss a rope, follow a trail, throw a "diamond hitch" in loading a pack horse, travel on snowshoes, recognize most wild animals just from their tracks, make a camp properly, and do so many other like tricks that made him the envy of his mates, and especially matty eggleston, who was the leader of the beaver patrol, and had much to learn concerning his duties. it was a cheerful scene, as the tents were raised, and fires began to crackle, one for each patrol, according to custom. even the two limping scouts forgot their recent lameness, and began to sniff the air hungrily when ginger started to get supper for the crowd. ginger had qualified as an expert first-class cook, but the truth might as well be stated right in the beginning that the boys quickly tired of the greasy messes the son of ethiopia flung together, and soon followed the example of the wolf patrol, doing their own cooking, an arrangement that pleased the good-natured but indolent ginger perfectly. he was always on hand, however, when the time for eating came around, being possessed of an enormous appetite that alarmed mr. garrabrant more than a little. night had closed in long before supper was ready, for things somehow worked at sixes and sevens on the occasion of the getting of the first meal, since many essential articles had to be hunted for, entailing a loss of time. but all this would be remedied as soon as they were in their permanent camp, for both mr. garrabrant and elmer were keen on system and order. the boys were almost famished after that seven-mile hike, and could hardly wait for the signal to "fall to." but there was an abundance for all, and none of them was much inclined to be what arthur stansbury called "finicky" that night. mr. garrabrant, however, while eating, looked suspiciously toward ginger, and shook his head in the direction of elmer, as if to say that if this mess were a fair specimen of the cook's best efforts along the culinary line, the sooner they started in to depend on themselves the better for their digestion. after the meal had been finished the boys left ginger to clean up while they lay around, enjoying the sparkling blaze, something that most of them were not very familiar with. for the time being all formality was thrown aside, and they laughed and chatted, just as normal boys are prone to do when out upon a holiday jaunt. mr. garrabrant showed the two laggards how they had been unwise not immediately to dislodge sundry small pebbles that had found a way to get in their shoes, with the consequence that presently stone bruises had formed that became painful. he made them easy with some lotion he carried for just such a purpose. in this and dozens of other ways the efficient scout master expected to teach the boys of the troop how to take care of themselves when away from home. but the lads who had to be told _the same thing twice_ might expect to forfeit some privilege since they were expected to think for themselves, after being shown. there was also a second colored man along, who expected to take the team back on the morrow, since the scouts would have no further need of it, once they embarked in the boats that were to meet them here. in these they expected to ascend the sweetwater to a small lake called jupiter; and from thence by way of paradise creek find a passage to lake solitude beyond, where they meant to camp and learn the numerous "stunts" a good scout should know. some of the lads had fair voices, and school songs were sung around the fire, mark doing the accompanying with soft notes on his bugle. he had mastered this instrument, and his mates never wearied of hearing him play. ted burgoyne was afflicted with a slight lisp that gave him no end of trouble; though he always insisted that he spoke as correctly as any of his companions. ted had a strong leaning toward the profession of a surgeon, and indeed was forever loudly wishing for a subject upon whom to operate. the boys had considerable fun over this weakness, but all the same they must have felt more or less confidence in his ability to do the right thing; for whenever any slight accident occurred it might be noticed that every one in camp called upon "dr. ted" to take hold; and he nearly always proved himself equal to the occasion. charlie maxfield, or chatz as he was universally called, was somewhat of a queer chap. he believed in ghosts, and was always reading stories of hobgoblins and haunted houses. of course, with such a propensity, chatz could be depended on to try and frighten his chums from time to time. he was forever "seeing things" in the dark. the rest of the boys had plenty of fun with chatz, which he took in good part; but although, as a rule, his alarms proved to be false ones nothing seemed to disturb his deep-rooted convictions. they even said he carried a rabbit's foot, for good luck, the animal having been killed by chatz himself in a graveyard, and in the full of the moon. needless to say chatz maxfield was a southern-born lad, as his accent alone proved. he was a fine fellow, taken as a whole, outside of this silly belief in ghosts, which he possibly imbibed from the small darkies with whom he played on his father's georgia plantation, years back. "i don't see any boats around here, fellows!" remarked ty collins, when there came a little lull in the conversation, after mr. garrabrant had been explaining some puzzling matter that one of the boys had put up to him. "why, that's a fact!" exclaimed "lil artha," as the long-legged secretary, arthur stansbury was called by his mates--he was a devoted amateur photographer, and even then had been busying himself with some part of his equipment as he sat by the fire. arthur was keenly desirous of learning all the various kinks that a first class scout must know. he was somewhat of a joker in his way, and at times a little addicted to the use of current slang; but a warm-hearted, impulsive lad all the same. "they are to be on hand in the morning, boys," remarked mr. garrabrant. "and of course we shall not think of leaving here until they come. make your minds easy on that score, nat and jasper. your heels will have a chance to get well, never fear." "where's chatz?" asked one of the other boys, suddenly. "he asked permission to walk back a bit over our trail," observed elmer. "said he missed a buckle from his coat, which he was carrying over his arm when he tripped. i let him take a lantern with him to see if he could find it." "lil artha" began to laugh, and several of the other boys joined in. "oh! my! what if he happens to run across one of those ghosts he's always talking about?" suggested toby ellsworth jones, whose grandfather had been a veteran, and a soldier under the colonel who died at alexandria, va., in the civil war; whence the name of ellsworth--toby was just wild on the subject of aeronautics; and while thus far everything he attempted had proven as flat a failure as the famous flying machine of darius green, still he lived in hopes of accomplishing something that would make the name of jones renowned. several of the boys struggled to their feet at this, finding themselves stiff in the legs after their long walk. "look! there's a light coming just flying along the road right now!" cried larry billings. "and that must be chatz on the full run, though he wouldn't yell out for anything!" exclaimed mark. "something must be chasing him, fellows!" declared toby, in great excitement. "perhaps it's a wildcat!" suggested jasper merriweather, who was a bit timid. "here he comes, and he can speak for himself. what ails you, charlie; what happened to start you running?" asked the scout master, as the boy came hurrying up, breathing hard, and showing signs of positive alarm. "reckon i saw something, suh, that was mighty mysterious!" replied chatz; at which the entire group of scouts looked at each other, and held their breath in awe. chapter ii. the sudden peril. "ii see you found your buckle, chatz," remarked elmer, noticing what the other was holding in the hand that was not occupied in grasping the lighted lantern. "oh! yes, i picked that up where i tripped, and nearly fell flat," replied the other, quickly. "just as i got up off my knees i happened to look alongside the road, where the trees grow so thick, and i give you my word, fellows, i saw a moving white figure that had the most terrible yellow eyes ever! i know you all laugh at me whenever i say i believe in ghosts; but if that wasn't one i miss my guess, yes suh." "i'll dare you to go back with me till we find out," said elmer, quickly. chatz hesitated; but for all his silly notions in this one line the boy was far from being a coward. "all right, if you say so, i'm willing," he declared. "i'd just like to know what that was, anyhow, if not a specter. come on, elmer." "take me along, won't you?" asked lil artha, gaining his feet, as he thrust his kodak away. "me, too!" called out several others; while a few hung back, not caring to take chances of a meeting with a real ghost. "you can go along, arthur, likewise ted and toby. the rest had better stay here with me to guard the camp, in case there happens to be a raid of ghosts," remarked the scout master, in a tone that put an end to all protestations. so the little party trotted off, followed by wishful glances from the balance of those who would have liked to be with them. down the road they went, chatz keeping in close contact with elmer, and maintaining a discreet silence. presently they arrived at the spot where he had found the missing buckle. "here's where i stooped down to hunt, boys," he remarked, in a low voice; "and when i looked over yonder, i saw it standing just back of that fringe of brush, waving its long arms at me, and staring to beat the band. do you see anything there, fellows?" "not a thing, chatz," replied artha, cheerfully. "to the foolish house for you!" "what's that?" said toby, holding up his hand, suddenly. "did you see anything move?" demanded the southern lad, eagerly, as though he wanted to prove that his alarm had been well founded. "i thought i did," replied toby, quivering with eagerness. "listen, fellows," observed elmer, with a chuckle. from somewhere back in the woods there came a weird sound, mournful enough to strike a chill to the heart of anyone not familiar with its nature. "oh! whatever can that be?" cried toby. "sounded just like some poor feller calling for help." "elmer, you know; tell uth, pleath!" entreated ted, with his usual lisp, which even the alarm that was seizing hold of him now could not dissipate. "well, i declare, i'm surprised to think that none of you fellows ever heard an owl hoot before!" laughed the scout leader of the wolf patrol. "an owl--that only a poor little dickey of an owl!" cried toby. "yes, it sounds just like the white owl we used to have up in canada," continued elmer, seriously. "and ten to one now, it was what chatz here saw in that brush alongside the road. of course it had staring yellow eyes; and in the dim light he must have fancied he saw an arm waving at him. that was only a shadow, chatz. so come along, let's get back to the fire." "well, anyway, it looked mighty spooky," declared the southern boy, stubbornly. and he persisted in this attitude, even when some of his companions, who might not have been one half so brave as chatz, if ever put to the test, began to "josh" him because of his recent alarm. mr. garrabrant, accompanied by elmer, went the rounds to ascertain just how the boys had erected their tents. he found little cause for complaint, since the young assistant scout master had drilled the members of the troop in this science, and they had it down quite pat, at least so far as theory went. while the boy-scout movement of to-day has little to do with military tactics, still discipline is taught; and numerous things that soldiers employ in their daily life are practiced. one of these is setting a guard at night, and teaching the boys the necessity of keeping watchful when in the woods. each patrol had to set a guard or sentry, and lay out a plan whereby the various members would take turns in standing duty during some period of the night. the two unattached scouts were temporarily added to the six composing the wolf patrol, so that they might come under the charge of elmer, and profit from his instruction. by ten o'clock the camp had relapsed into a condition of silence. "taps" had been sounded on the bugle, which meant that every light must be extinguished except the two fires; and each scout not on duty seek his blanket. of course there was more or less whispering from time to time; and apparently it was a hard thing for some of the boys to settle down to sleep. but both mr. garrabrant and elmer knew boy nature full well, and for this one night were disposed to overlook little infractions of the rules. but later on they would expect to hold the entire troop rigidly to discipline, when the time for skylarking had gone by. elmer had left word with the boy from the wolf patrol who first went on duty to awaken him if anything out of the way occurred. and in turn he was to transmit the order to the fellow who succeeded him. when a hand gripped his arm as he lay under his blanket elmer was immediately awakened; nor did he evince the slightest alarm. "what is it?" he asked, softly, not wishing to arouse the others in the tent, who were sound asleep, if their heavy breathing stood for anything. "something moving on the river, and i thought you ought to know," replied the one who had crept excitedly under the canvas. "all right, toby, i'm coming after you. back out!" replied elmer, as he wriggled from under his comfortable blanket, and pulled on his trousers; for the air of an august night often feels decidedly chilly, especially after one has been snuggled beneath covers. he found the fires had died down, though the boys made sure that they did not wholly go out, since they had no great love for the darkness. "listen! there it goes again," remarked toby, once more clutching the sleeve of the scout leader in a nervous hand. elmer chuckled. "well, this is a funny thing," he said, as though amused. "first chatz takes a poor old owl with its yellow eyes for a ghost, and now you imagine the dip of oars to be something as mysterious and thrilling. why, don't you make out two sets plashing at different times. those are the boats we expect. perhaps the men from rockaway down the river were delayed; or else they preferred to do their rowing after the sun set. but that's all it means, toby." "aw! well, i thought it my duty to let you know," observed the other. "and you did quite right, toby. but i'd better try and get mr. garrabrant out here without awakening the lot, if it can be done," and saying this elmer started toward the second tent, where the scout master had some four boys under his especial charge. it proved to be just as elmer had guessed. the two men who rowed the boats had preferred to do their work after the heat of day had gone by. they would not even pass the balance of the night in camp, being anxious to get back to rockaway, the town some five miles down the river. so this little excitement died away, and once more silence brooded over the camp on the sweetwater. the night passed without any further alarm; and with the coming of morning the clear notes of the bugle sounding the reveille aroused the last sleepers, and caused them to crawl forth, rubbing their eyes and yawning. mark's grandfather had been a famous artist, and the boy bade fair to some day follow in his illustrious footsteps. he was forever drawing exceedingly apt pictures, with pencil, a bit of chalk, a scrap of charcoal or anything that came handy; and as a rule these were humorous caricatures of his chums in many amusing attitudes. so he now busied himself catching the sleepy scouts in various striking postures, to the great delight of those who gathered around. between mark's readiness with the crayon and the eagerness of lil artha to use his camera, it seemed likely that little worth remembering would escape being handed down to illustrate the events of this, their first outing. "me for a bully good swim!" exclaimed the long-legged boy, as he started for the nearby river. others were quick to follow his example, for few healthy boys there are to whom the opportunity for splashing in the water on a summer morn does not appeal. "keep on your guard, fellows!" called mr. garrabrant, who was busily employed doing something near one of the tents. "the current is swift, and unless i miss my guess the river is quite deep here. elmer, you go along and watch out that no one comes to harm," and he turned once again to his task, confident that his assistant was capable of executing his wishes properly. ten minutes passed away, and mr. garrabrant, having managed successfully to complete the little job he had set himself to execute, was thinking it time the boys who were bathing should be recalled, when he heard sudden cries that pierced him like an arrow. "hey! look at jasper, would you, how funny he acts!" "elmer! elmer! come here! jasper's got a cramp! he's gone down!" hurriedly did the alarmed scout master leap to his feet and start wildly in the direction of these loud outcries. no doubt in that second of time he saw the faces of the merriweather boy's parents, filled with the agony that comes to those who have lost a son by drowning; and the mental picture sent mr. garrabrant flying over the ground. chapter iii. ginger plays with fire. at the time the loud cries had come, elmer was just leaving the water himself, having had enough of a morning bath. he saw several of the boys running toward a point down stream, where ty collins and nat scott were when they shouted, and without wasting a second elmer had sped that way. so fast did he run that he easily outstripped the rest, and reached the spot where ty and nat stood on the bank, beckoning wildly to him, while they stared out upon the eddying water. one look elmer gave. it enabled him to glimpse something white emerging from the foamy water, and a pair of arms beat wildly in the air. then he sprang in, and hand over hand made for the spot. luckily he had arrived just below, so that the chances of his reaching the drowning lad were better than would have otherwise been the case if he had the swift current against him. perhaps in all his life elmer chenowith never struck out with such intense eagerness, for he had seen that something serious must have happened to jasper, since he was under the surface of the water most of the time and undoubtedly gulping in great quantities of it. keeping his eyes fastened on the struggling figure as best he could, elmer made his way furiously through the surging sweetwater. just at this place, on account of a decided drop in the bed of the river, there was a swift current and considerable foam around the rocks that partly blocked the rapids. "he's got him!" shrilled tom cropsey. "but look out, elmer; don't let him get a grip on you! size up the way jasper is fighting to get hold of him! oh! he nearly did it, then! what ought we to do, fellows? if he grabs elmer they'll just both drown!" it was red huggins who thus gave vent to his feelings. he generally became so excited in an emergency that he could not collect his wits enough to be of any great use. and it was fortunate that all of those present were not built upon the same model as impulsive red. mr. garrabrant had snatched up a rope as he ran. perhaps, with rare wisdom the long-headed scout master had even placed it there, looking to a possible sudden need for such a thing. he had no occasion to ask where the thrilling event was taking place. every boy was staring in that one quarter, and before he even saw the two figures in the swirl of the yeasty river mr. garrabrant realized the condition of affairs. he found that elmer had managed to seize the drowning boy from behind, always the very best method of doing in such a case. had he been unable to accomplish this, and the frenzied jasper seized upon him, doubtless elmer would have broken away, even though he might have had to strike the other quite sharply in the face and partly stun him to do so. better that, than that both should go down together. so elmer was endeavoring to push the other in toward shore. sometimes the water would go over them both with a rush, for they happened to be in one of the roughest parts of the river. mr. garrabrant sized up the situation at a single glance. then he ran down the shore a dozen paces, and started to wade into the river. "here, take hold of this end of the rope, boys!" he cried, as he came upon several of the scouts who were standing knee deep in the water, seemingly half paralyzed by the terrible nature of the scene before them. mark cummings had just arrived on the scene. he had been dressing in the tent at the time the alarm sounded. regardless of the fact that he had on his clothes, he sprang into the water alongside the scout master. together they buffeted the waves, and made for the approaching pair. elmer saw them coming and redoubled his efforts to keep the drowning boy afloat, and at the same time avoid being clasped in his desperate embrace. then friendly hands were laid upon them, and with three to take charge, jasper was borne to the land. he had collapsed before the shore was reached, and the balance of the boys gathered around, staring in great fear at his pallid face. mr. garrabrant knew the theory of restoring a person who has come very near being drowned; but it chanced that elmer had more than once had active participation in that sort of work. so he lost no time in stretching poor jasper, face down, on the ground, placing his knees on his back, and having his arms worked regularly by some of the boys, while he pressed downward, again and again with considerable force, so as to induce artificial breathing. as jasper was not far gone he quickly responded to this rough but effective treatment. he belched out a small niagara of water, groaned, trembled, and finally tried to beg them to have a little mercy on him, saying that he was now all right, upon which the boys of course ceased their efforts intended to bring him to. breakfast was slow in coming along that morning. ginger had been tremendously unnerved by the exciting spectacle of the rescue of the drowning lad, and he continuously made all sorts of foolish blunders while trying to cook, so that in the end mr. garrabrant chased him away and set elmer and ty collins at the job, both of whom he knew were very good cooks. afterwards the tents had to come down, and the entire outfit be stored away in the two boats which were intended to carry them the balance of the way. ginger sent the horse and wagon back in charge of the other colored man, and announced himself prepared to accompany the troop into the heart of the wilderness. he was so good-natured, and they could make use of him to do much of the drudgery of the camp; so mr. garrabrant decided to let ginger go along, even though he was not to be trusted to get their meals any longer. the boats were stoutly built, and of a good size. both were capable of being rowed by two pairs of oars: and, indeed, this was rendered quite necessary by the swiftness of the sweetwater in parts. once they reached the first little lake and the worst part of the struggle would be over; after that the going must prove much easier. at first the scouts considered the rowing a picnic. that lasted less than ten minutes. then, as the strain of the current started to tell upon them, grunts began to be heard, and these were followed by heavy sighs and glum faces. blisters began to appear on palms that were quite unused to labor of this severe kind. true, mr. garrabrant in one boat, and elmer in the other, tried to show the greenhorns how they could save themselves much of this pain by proper handling of the oars; but like everything else, experience after all was bound to be the best guide. a number of the lads, however, were more or less familiar with rowing, even though there was no body of water close to the town on the railroad known as hickory ridge. of course elmer himself took an oar, and kept up his part of the drudgery from start to finish; and his chum mark also did his share with credit. there were places where the river widened, and the current was less savage. here those who tugged at the oars managed to rest up a bit for the next hard pull. so the morning passed with frequent rests, for mr. garrabrant knew better than utterly to weary his command in the beginning. they were, after all, out for sport; and it would have been an unwise move on his part to have sickened the tenderfeet scouts before they had had a fair chance to get hardened to it. just before noon the boy in the bow of the leading boat gave a yell. "what is it?" asked the scout master. "i just had a squint at a body of water, sir; and i think it must have been a lake," replied jack armitage, who was in the boat with the wolf patrol, ginger working one of the oars in the other craft. "that must be the first lake, jupiter they call it," mr. garrabrant went on. "hurrah! that means a rest, and lunch, fellows!" cried lil artha, who had been resting after his turn at rowing. "don't crow too soon," barked toby, mysteriously. "the worst is yet to come. remember that these two lakes are joined by paradise creek. i've heard that stream is worse than the river here to pull against." "that's where you're mistaken, toby," remarked elmer. "i talked with a lumberman, and also a sportsman who comes up here every fall to shoot wild ducks on the lake they call solitude. both of them assured me that once we got to this point our troubles would be over. so cheer up, my hearties, the pulling will be a picnic after this." then they passed out from the head of the romantic sweetwater. the lake was a pretty little sheet of water, with shores that, as a rule, were wooded; though in several places it looked as though farms ran down to the water's edge. the boys soon clamored to get ashore and stretch their weary legs; nor was mr. garrabrant in the least averse to such a change himself. it is always inducive to cramp to sit in a boat several hours. lunch was eaten under a patch of friendly trees that grew on the bank. then the troop was allowed half an hour to lounge around, ere once more embarking for the afternoon row. just where they had landed it was very wild. rocks jutted up out of the sides of the hills, and the trees grew in every crevice where earth had gathered. toby was lying on his back, looking longingly up at the bald top of a neighboring elevation that might almost be called a mountain. "say," he said to red, who happened to be sprawled out near him, "did you ever in all your days see such a splendid place as that for a starter? just think what a jolly good thing it would be to stand there on the edge of that cliff and just give one big spring off, flapping your wings as you jumped. wow! i can see myself sailing through space, and coming down as gently as a thistle ball. but how could a fellow ever get up there in the first place?--that's what's bothering me." "look here, toby, you don't really mean to say that if you had those silly old wings along with you, anything'd ever tempt you to take such chances as to jump off that high place? why, it'd be your finish sure, if you ever did. you'd come down with an awful jar. and ten to one we'd have to gather your poor remains up with a shovel. i'm glad mr. garrabrant refused to let you fetch along all that stuff you had laid out to bring." "he near broke my heart when he said that, red," sighed toby. "but we're going to be up here some time, you know, and perhaps i might get a chance to rig up some sort of flying machine. i'll never be happy till i'm sailing through the clouds, and that's a fact." "your heart, could stand it better than your blessed neck," retorted red. "and that's what would have happened to you, sure, if he'd let you try to play your game of being aviator to the troop." "sit still, fellows!" sang out the photographer just then; "i've got you in just a dandy picture, the entire bunch! there, done with a click, and thank you." mr. garrabrant sat up and looked at his watch. "about time we were moving, boys," he remarked, at which there were numerous uplifted eyebrows, and not a few groans, as the unfortunate tenderfeet looked at the red spots in the palms of their hands, unused to hard work. of course, as there was little to pack, it would be a matter of only a few minutes ere they could be on the move again, and speeding up jupiter lake toward the link that connected with the other sheet of water. "all here?" asked mr. garrabrant, as a precautionary measure; since some of the scouts had shown a weakness for wandering whenever half a chance arose. elmer had just been in the act of counting heads. "we seem to be one shy, sir," he remarked. "it's ginger," declared one of the scouts. "i noticed him walking off some little time ago, sir. he told me somebody said there was gold up in these mountains, and the poor old silly was lookin' for signs of it, i guess." "give him a call on the bugle, mark!" said elmer, looking annoyed; for it would be too bad if, after all their plans, ginger should take it into his head to delay them now by getting lost. so the bugler let out a blast that could easily be heard a mile away. then they one and all listened to discover if any answer came floating back. "i heahs yuh, suh," came the voice of ginger from the neighboring woods. "i'se jes' be'n havin' heaps o' fun wid dis leetle snake hyah. glory be, but he am de maddest critter yuh eber see, a shaking ob his tail; an' de locust asingin' in de tree." "keep away from him, ginger!" shouted elmer, jumping up; "keep away from him, i tell you! my stars! that must be a rattlesnake he's been playing with!" chapter iv. a never-to-be-forgotten supper. and a rattlesnake it proved to be, sure enough! when elmer, followed helter-skelter by every one of the others, drew near the spot where ginger stood, with a short stick in his hand, and now looking very much frightened after hearing what a narrow escape he had had, they discovered the angry poisonous reptile coiled, and buzzing away at a great rate. locusts had been singing near by during the drowsy noon hour, and that accounted not only for the common mistake of the black man, but why none of the others had paid any attention to the sound. several remembered having heard it, when their memory was jogged later. elmer quickly found a longer pole with which he assailed the coiled terror of the rocky hills, and with a lucky stroke he finally broke its back. all the boys crowded around to look at the ugly thing, shuddering as they noted its vicious fangs. "better look out, fellowth," warned dr. ted. "i've heard they often hunt in coupleth, tho' there may be another of the vermin near by!" but a hasty search failed to reveal a mate to the dead reptile. mr. garrabrant seized upon the occasion to read a lecture to the scouts, telling them to live up to their motto, "be prepared," and always keep an eye out when in the woods. "that's one danger we must never forget up here," he said; "and i've got a little phial i want every scout to carry along with him constantly. to-night i'm going to explain just how to act in case any one of you finds himself struck by a snake, which, however, i sincerely hope will never happen, because they're nasty things at best, and there's always a chance that the remedy may not work in time to save the patient." ginger begged for the rattle, to serve as a reminder of his narrow escape, and so elmer cut it off for him. "if i had time i'd like to skin the beast," the latter remarked, "for he's beautifully marked, and would make a nice tie, or a pocketbook. but in order to make a good job i'd require an hour or more, and we don't want to carry the thing along with us until night." "why do you say 'he' when you mention the rattler, elmer?" asked mr. garrabrant, who was not above seeking new information from one who had been fortunate enough to experience the actual realities of wild life. "well, you see that the skin has black diamond-shaped marks on it. if it had been a female these would have been more along a brownish order. at any rate, that's what i've been told out where i met with these things frequently," elmer stated. "and i've no doubt but what you're quite right, elmer," remarked the scout master. "i've noticed the same thing in connection with quite a number of birds, the female being coated a modest brown, whereas the male was a lustrous black. but we must be moving. i'm glad, ginger, that it isn't necessary to practice on you for snakebite." "yas," muttered the black man, "an' de wustest t'ing 'bout de hull bizness am de fack dat dey ain't eben a single drap ob snake pizen in de hull bilin crowd. so 'deed, i is right glad myself now dat de leetle critter didn't git tuh me." "and there goeth the only chance i've had this many a day to get a little anatomical practice," ted was grumbling; though of course the boys understood that although his manner of talk might seem so blood-thirsty, the amateur surgeon was only joking. but ginger, after that, often watched ted suspiciously and refused to be left alone in camp with him. ten minutes of stout rowing brought them to the mouth of paradise creek, where the waters from the other lake emptied into jupiter. joyfully they started to navigate these unknown regions. elmer's boat was in the lead, though for that matter not a single one in the party had ever before been as far up the chains of waterways as this. when even the scout master realized that those who handled the oars were becoming exhausted, he called a halt and changed around, bringing fresh recruits forward. he himself did yeoman service pulling, and ginger also made his muscles add considerable value to the progress of the second boat. "dis am suah de t'ing tuh make de appatite," ginger kept saying, as he tugged away, with the perspiration rolling down his black good-natured face. "specks i done want dubble rations dis berry night, cap'n. de laborer am worthy ob his hire, de good book say. an' dis am sartin suah hard wuk." as the afternoon slowly passed they realized that they must be getting closer and closer to the second sheet of water. nobody was sorry. and when the sun hung over the elevated horizon anxious looks began to be cast ahead. finally, almost without warning, the leading boat ran out of the creek, passing around an abrupt bend, and a shout of delight announced that the lake had been reached at last. it was indeed well named. solitude seemed to hang over the whole picture, and if it could impress them in this way while the sun was still shining, what gloom must follow after the shades of night had fallen. "look around on this shore for a good site for a permanent camp, elmer," remarked the scout master, pointing to the left. "i choose that because we will get some shelter from the wind, in case of a sudden storm. across the broad lake it would be apt to hit us doubly hard. am i correct, elmer?" mr. garrabrant went on. "yes, sir," replied the boy, quickly, "i should have done just as you did, and i think i can see a good spot for our camp; anyhow it looks that way from here. give way again, fellows, and i'll head the boat for our haven." ten minutes later, and the two boats had been run ashore. then an eager troop of aching lads tumbled out, to stretch themselves, and express delight over having finally reached their goal. quite a number of them had really never before been away from home over night, so that it required more or less assumption of gayety on their part to conceal their real feelings. but by degrees these would grow accustomed to the separation, and in the end it was bound to make them more manly fellows. once again were the tents pitched. this time more care was taken, for they anticipated a long stay, and ere breaking camp for the return trip it was not unlikely that they would be visited by one or more storms. so the stakes were driven well in, and each tent had a little gulley dug around the upper side, so as to turn water to the right and left in case of a flood in the shape of a down-pour. other of the scouts started making fire-places from the numerous stones. they had had practice along these lines before now, closer at home, and the watchful eyes of the scout leaders took note of everything that was being done. when they saw that matters were not going just as cleverly as they could, a few words, perhaps a helping hand, straightened out the difficulty. by the time the sun passed beyond an outlying spur of the mountain things began to take on a pretty decent look. several of the boys who were fond of fishing had been set to work digging bait, and going in the boats to likely spots pointed out by the experienced elmer. their excited cries presently announced that there was some prospect of the bill-of-fare that night having the magic name of "trout" among the tasty food exhibit. "and my word for it we'll need all we can get," laughed mr. garrabrant aside to his assistant, as he nodded his head to where ginger was working lustily, and smacking his lips as he kept one eye on the busy fisherman, "because ginger tells me he's awful fond of trout! it's going to keep me hustling to supply all the appetites in this camp content of ours; for they're developing most alarmingly." but really mr. garrabrant was joking. he had foreseen just such a condition as this, knowing boys as well as he did, and made sure to add good measure to the quantity of food first planned for. the fishermen presently brought in what catch they had made. every one was both surprised and delighted to see the splendid size of the trout that had taken the bait. "why, this sure is a great snap!" exclaimed lil artha, who had been looking all around for various views which he anticipated capturing on succeeding days. "we can have the toothsome trout whenever the spirit moves, and the fishermen get busy." "and they pull like a house afire, too," declared matty eggleston, who had been one of the anglers. "i've caught black bass lots of times, but this is my first trout experience. yum, yum, say, don't they just smell fine, though? look at ginger walking up and down over by the shore of the lake! he's that near starved he just can't stay around any longer and sniff that delicious odor! boys, ain't it near time to call us to the fray? oh, i'm that hollow i'm afraid i'll break in two!" "supper's ready, mr. garrabrant!" announced ty collins, who had been given a free hand as chief cook on this evening, while elmer paid attention to various other things. "call the boys in then, and we'll see if it tastes as good as it smells. sound the assembly, mark," called the scout master, himself not at all averse to the pleasant duty of satisfying the inner man's clamorings. so the bugler sent out the sweet call, and even ginger seemed to know what it meant, for he came hurrying along to serve the dinner, a broad grin stamped on his ebony face, and his mouth stretched almost from ear to ear. "this is what i call solid comfort," observed mark, as he tasted the crisp trout, and decided that it was finer than any fish he had ever eaten in all his life. a chorus of approving grunts and nods followed his assertion, for as a rule the scouts were too busily occupied just then to say much. ginger had not been compelled to wait until they were through, under the existing conditions that would have been next door to a crime, because the poor old chap was really frantic for something to stop the awful craving he had. so, after helping the entire bunch he was allowed to dip in and sit in a retired spot, where the tremendous champing noise he made while "feeding" might not annoy the rest. afterward, when everyone admitted that "enough was as good as a feast," they lay around taking things easy. ginger gathered up the cooking utensils, and the numerous pannikins and tin cups used by the troop. it was to be his duty to wash these things after each meal, and thus the boys were enabled to avoid one very troublesome part of camp life. and hence they were glad to have ginger along. as before, arrangements were made looking to a constant detail to serve as sentries. there was no danger anticipated, of course, but since the scouts wished to learn everything that was connected with life in the open, they must carry out the game in all its parts. and guarding the camp against a possible foe was one of these things. two were to be on duty at the same time, the entire night being suitably divided up into watches, as on board a ship. from ten o'clock up to five meant seven hour shifts, with two boys on duty at a time. elmer and mr. garrabrant were exempt from this drudgery if they so pleased, but the chances were, both of them would obtain less sleep, that night at least, than any of the others. even ginger was given his "spell," though it was doubted whether he could keep awake an hour, for he was a very sleepy individual after he had finished his task with the tin pans. "to-morrow we start in with some of our tests," remarked the scout master, as the time drew near for the bugler to sound taps. "that's one thing i want to drill you boys in, while we're up here. we'll pit the two details against each other, and see which can set up a tent in the shortest order, and in the best manner. then we'll start on the first-aid-to-the-injured racket, and take a step further than we've ever gone before. after that i'm going to get our assistant scout master to show us a lot of mighty interesting things about following a trail, and what the different tracks of such animals as may be found up here look like. and another day some of us will hike to the top of that mountain, while another detachment tries to climb the second rise, after which they can wigwag to each other, in signal corps language, and hold a long talk, to be verified later on in camp from the records kept. that is the program, boys. now, go to your blankets and sleep over it." they were as a rule a pretty tired lot that lay down. the two sentries had to continue moving about to keep from going to sleep on post, which might be considered a serious offense, and lose them no end of good marks. twice did elmer creep out of his tent, and make the rounds in order to ascertain whether all were going well. the last time was along about two in the morning, and the first thing he heard was a whip-poor-will calling shrilly to its mate not far away. when he came upon chatz, who had the outer post, he was surprised to find him exhibiting all the well-known signs by which he was wont to indicate that he had been "seeing things" again. and knowing him so well, elmer hardly needed to ask what was the matter. evidently the ghosts that haunted chatz must have been paying the superstitious southern boy another visit. chapter v. what was it? "iwhat was it this time, number six?" asked the scout leader, as chatz turned quickly toward him, showing considerable alarm. "oh! it's gone now. it just seemed to slide away while i was looking. but i could hear it moving all the same; and i tell you, honest injun, that it was a dreadful _squashy_ sort of sound," and chatz shrugged his shoulders with what seemed to be a shudder, as he said this. elmer hardly knew what to do or to say. chatz was not above playing a joke, given the opportunity, but this was really a subject on which he felt very deeply, so that it was hard to believe he would be likely to hold it up to scorn. he seemed to be wide-awake, too, so that there was little chance of its being a dream. sensible on all other subjects, the superstitious southern lad had a decided weakness for spooks, and he could imagine uncanny objects prowling around where no one else found the slightest indication of such a thing. "where was this?" elmer asked, cautiously. "over there, in that open spot," replied chatz, cheerfully and without the least sign of hesitation. "you can just make out the deeper shadow of the trees back further. i was looking that way and thinking of something connected with my home when all of a sudden it loomed up, staring at me in a frightfully ghastly way, and moving its white body slowly up and down, just like it was warning me of some coming danger." "sure it wasn't that owl again, are you?" questioned elmer, dubiously. "couldn't have been any such thing, because," triumphantly went on chatz, "you see, there ain't a single chance for it to roost on anything! that place is bare! i crossed it several times going for wood yesterday afternoon before dark set in. and then besides--" "yes, what else was there?" elmer asked, encouragingly, for he began to realize that there was at least no fake about the other's upset condition. "why, it made the queerest noise you ever heard--just a squashy sound that i'll never be able to forget. ugh! it was a nasty experience," and he rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, after the manner of one just awakened. somehow this gave elmer an idea. "look here, number six, are you sure now that you weren't asleep, and just dreaming that something bobbed up in front of you?" he demanded, sternly; for in his capacity as assistant scout master he was given certain privileges which the rest of the boys readily recognized. "i don't think there's any reason to believe that sort of thing," returned the other, steadily. "fact is, i was never more wide-awake in my life." "and the thing just stood there, and waved at you, did it?" elmer continued. "oh! i know what you think about it, but when i see a thing i can't deny it, can i? there was something close to me a few minutes ago, something that must have been a spook. if i hadn't had the good sense to stick my hand in my pocket, and grab hold of that blessed old rabbit foot, i honestly believe it would have jumped me! now laugh again if you want to," defiantly. but elmer was himself a bit puzzled. of course he could not think of allowing himself to dream that what chatz had seen could be anything unusual. the surrounding conditions invested the most commonplace occurrence with a mysterious atmosphere--that was all, and had it been anyone but chatz they might have found an easy explanation for the puzzle. "well," the scout leader said, finally, "we'll all have to borrow that lucky charm then, when we go on duty, if it's going to scare the spooks away. but your time is up, number six, so you can proceed to awaken the scout who follows you." "i'm glad, and i'm sorry," remarked chatz. "to tell the truth, i'd like to find out if that pesky thing _could_ crop up again. you see, there's no need of being scared about it, so long as you've got something that keeps you from getting hurt." evidently the belief of the southern lad in that magical rabbit's foot was firmly founded, and it would be exceedingly difficult to uproot it. sneers and scorn would never accomplish that result; in fact such action was apt to only make him cling the more stubbornly to his fetish worship. elmer believed in going about such things in another manner entirely. chatz must be shown the error of his ways; and to do that most convincingly the real nature of the object which he believed to be a ghostly visitant from the other world, would have to be proven. "wait a minute, number six," he said, as the other was about to head toward the tent where part of the wolf patrol slept, so he could find and arouse his appointed successor. "yes, sir," replied chatz; for, while elmer was a chum of his, there were times when he must recognize him only as a superior officer in the organization to which both belonged, and show him due respect. "remember, not a single word to the scout who is to succeed you," elmer went on. "not a word will i breathe, sir, i promise you," replied chatz, and elmer knew that nothing would tempt him to betray his trust, for his sense of honor was very high, as it is with all southern boys. "perhaps we might get a pointer on this matter if the strange thing you saw appeared to another," remarked elmer, thoughtfully. "oh! don't i just wish it would," remarked chatz, eagerly. "then perhaps the rest of the fellows wouldn't think me cracked in my upper story. and lil artha wouldn't be so unfeeling as to say i had rats in my belfry, he's the one who comes on after me. don't i just wish it would give him a _good_ scare, though!" "well, go and wake him up, then. i'll let the other sentry know that it's time for a change," and elmer walked away. a sudden idea had flashed up in his mind. could it be possible that there was anything in this wild yarn of chatz's? would the second sentry be able to throw any light on the mystery? he found him squatting on the ground, near a tree, and saw that it was jasper merriweather, the timid boy of the troop. at first elmer had half a suspicion that the other was asleep, for his head was bowed in his hands. at the sound of his step, however, jasper suddenly looked up with a violent start, and elmer saw that he was more or less frightened, for he was shivering, even though he had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. "oh! it's you, sir, is it?" he exclaimed, and there was a positive vein of relief in the tones of his quivering voice that elmer could not but notice. "why, who else did you think it could be, beaver, number four?" asked the assistant scout master, quickly. "oh! i don't know," came the rather hesitating reply. "you see i guess chatz maxfield has got me all worked up with his silly notions, because i'm seeing things, just like he does, right along. i'm ashamed of myself, that's what." "do you mean just now you saw something?" asked elmer. "well," replied jasper, rising to his feet as he spoke, with returning confidence, "i thought i did, for a fact; and i just hid my head to shut it out, but of course it was only what mr. garrabrant calls an optical illusion. there just couldn't be anything there." "of course not," the other went on, encouragingly. "h'm, what was it, by the way, you _thought_ you saw, number four?" "that's the silly part of it, sir," jasper answered. "it wasn't anything that i could recognize at all, which proves that i was only imagining things. plague take chatz and his ghosts! i never was very brave at my best, but thinking of him has just about queered me. i'm glad you came to talk to me, and show me how foolish it is to let such notions take root." "but, by the way, where was it you thought you saw this wonderful thing which you say bore no shape that you could describe?" elmer insisted. "oh! let me see, i was sitting just this way, and looking straight out yonder. it was in that open place, sir. i guess the fire must have flashed up suddenly, and dazzled me a bit." but elmer noticed that the second sentry pointed in exactly the same quarter where chatz insisted he had set eyes on the ghost! this would seem to indicate that there must be something in the story. "was it a flaming red ghost, number four?" he inquired further. "why, of course not, sir," chuckled the other. "if it had been i'd have thought it was only ty collins in that red sweater he sometimes wears. oh! no, what i _thought_ i saw was a white object. it seemed to be there when i hid my face in my blanket, but when i looked a minute later it was gone." "did you hear any sound?" elmer demanded. "well, yes; but after all it may have been one of the fellows snoring," jasper replied. "but at the time i thought it the queerest sort of noise ever. might 'a' been a big bulldog jumping into the water. i've heard something like it when i pulled my foot out of a soft oozy piece of mud." "all right, number four. your time is up, so go and gently arouse your successor. and please don't even whisper a word about this until i give you permission." "well, i guess i won't," jasper quickly mumbled. "think i'm itching to have the laugh on me? no, siree, i'm as dumb as an oyster," and with that he staggered off toward one of the tents to awaken nathan scott. elmer returned to his blanket, but he had something on his mind that kept him from enjoying any sound sleep for the remainder of that particular night. those two boys had certainly seen _something_, and while, of course, elmer was too sensible a fellow to allow himself to give the idea of a ghostly visitor the slightest credence, he found himself puzzled to account for it all. because of his lying awake so long he slept later than usual in the morning. true, he sprang up when the notes of the bugle sounded the reveille, but most of the others had been abroad before him. they took a dip in the lake, though the water was so very cold that none of the scouts cared to remain in more than five minutes. besides, the almost tragic occurrence of the previous day haunted some of them, and made them a bit timid about venturing into the water, though by degrees this fear would naturally wear off. while preparations for breakfast were being undertaken by those appointed for this purpose, elmer strolled out of the camp. he wished to carefully examine the open patch of ground at the point where the two sentries had been so positive the uncanny white object had appeared to them. disappointment awaited him there, however. numerous footprints told how those of the scouts whose duty it was to secure a fresh supply of firewood that morning had passed back and forth directly across this open place. if there had been any suggestive tracks they were surely trampled out of sight by the army of boyish feet that had gone over many times. elmer shook his head. he felt that he had been hoodwinked in one sense, but no matter, even this setback must not induce him to give up the task he had set for himself. he owed it to chatz and his infirmity to discover a reasonable explanation of that ghost theory. and while the solution might be delayed by this unfortunate trampling of the ground, he meant to persist. "nothing doing, i guess?" remarked a voice close by, and turning his head the scout leader saw chatz himself standing there, observing him with a quizzical expression on his dark face. "well, if you mean an explanation of the little affair of last night, chatz, i admit that so far i'm up against it good and hard. you see, i hoped to find some marks here that would give me a clue, but it's all off. the boys ran after wood and back again so many times, that if there was a trail it's been squashed." "oh! i don't think that mattered any," remarked the other, with conviction in his tones. "you can't very well discover what there isn't, can you? and i've always believed that spooks never leave a sign behind them when they come and go. why, a spook is only a vapor, you know, elmer. they can slip through a keyhole if necessary. and as to a trail, why, you might as well expect to see that cloud up yonder leave a track behind it." there could at least be no doubt about chatz being in dead earnest in his queer belief, and as elmer turned away he was more than ever determined to find the true solution of that strange happening, if only to drive another nail in the coffin of the southern boy's superstition. as neither of the sentries felt at liberty to mention the occurrence until the assistant scout master gave permission, the balance of the scouts ate their breakfast, and joked each other, in blissful ignorance of the fact that the camp had again been visited by a hobgoblin, and that this time not only the superstitious chatz but another had actually seen the misty intruder! chapter vi. the boy scouts' water boiling test. mr. garrabrant was full of business on this fine morning. he set about a host of things immediately after breakfast, saying that they ought to take advantage of the opportunity to get in a good morning's work. several boys were sent out on the lake to try to duplicate the good luck attending the fishermen of the preceding afternoon. mark cummings was encouraged to get numerous views of the camp, and whatever was going on--such as would afford the hickory ridge scouts the most pleasure in later days, when this series of camp fires was but a hallowed memory. with the balance of the troop the scout master proceeded to try out various interesting tests, to discover just how the boys stood in the matter of efficiency. as elmer was such an old and experienced hand in most of these matters, he was of course debarred from entering the competitions. it would be taking too great an advantage over the tenderfeet scouts, who had everything to learn as yet. first of all the scout master decided to put ten boys at the boiling-water test. this is one of the most interesting, as well as amusing competitions, the scouts indulge in, and one that never fails to evoke much laughter among those who look on. each boy was given a tin pail that held two quarts of water, and which could be carried by a bale. besides this, he was handed just three matches, and put upon his honor that he did not have another of the kind upon his person. a spot was selected that was possibly fully eighty yards away from the edge of the lake, and this mr. garrabrant did purposely, so that if one of the competing scouts was so unlucky as to upset his pail of water during the test, he would be greatly handicapped by having to run so far in order to replenish the same. lined up, they were to be given the word, when a rush would be made for the lake, the buckets filled at least up to a line midway that indicated a full quart. then they had to hasten back to the place assigned, being careful not to spill a drop of the fluid on penalty of losing marks for having less than the quart needed. wood had to be quickly gathered, and some sort of fire-place constructed where a blaze must be started without the aid of paper. then the kettles were to be seated on the stones, and the first one that had water actually boiling, as witnessed by the scout master, would be the victor, and the second called "runner-up." "ready, all!" called mr. garrabrant, and ten eager pair of eyes watched him closely; "go!" immediately there was a race for the lake. one clumsy scout fell down and had to scramble to his feet to take his place at the tail end of the procession. of course the long-legged lil artha easily outran all his mates. he had scooped up his water and was on the way back before the next best arrived. the wise ones made sure to dip up more than they really needed, so as to make allowances for any that might be spilled on the return flight. the surplus could be easily tipped out before they set the kettle on the fire. when the whole lot had finally reached the open spot where the competition was to be carried out, the picture was a lively one. mark was on hand to take a few snapshots, and catch all the humor of the scene. now lil artha had his fire going, being far in advance of the others. as they hustled to get things moving it was only natural that each fellow cast jealous glances toward those who were getting along faster. in one instance that caused the withdrawal of a competitor, for while paying more attention to what matty eggleston was doing than his own business, larry billings upset his kettle. after that he gave up with a grunt, for it was the height of folly for him to think of running to the lake for a fresh supply. two others used all their three matches and failed to get a fire started, so they also withdrew. when arthur stansbury placed his kettle on his hastily constructed fire-place, long before the rest, it looked as though he had a "walkover." all at once there arose a shout of boyish glee. in starting to get to his feet, the long-legged one had, as frequently happened, caught his ankles in a hitch, and throwing out one hand to balance he upset the kettle, which came near putting out his fire. mr. garrabrant expected to see him leaping toward the far-off lake in the hope of being yet in the running. to his surprise, lil artha snatched up his pail and _ran away from the edge of the water_! several were so astonished at this that they suspended operations for a second or two to stare after him. "oh! i see what he's after, the sly fellow," laughed elmer. "he remembers the little stream that runs down the side of the hill right there, and reaches the lake. it isn't half as far away as the edge of the big water. yes, there he comes, with a grin on his face, and a full pail. good boy, number five!" once back at his fire, now burning briskly, the tall boy hastened to spill some of the contents of his kettle, and then set the latter firmly on the stones. nor did he stop there. he had lost some ground, and several had by this time succeeded in catching up with him. so down arthur lay, full on his stomach, where he could blow his fire, and get it to burning more savagely, after which he fed it with the best small pieces of splintered wood he had been able to pick up. when a certain number of minutes had elapsed he beckoned to mr. garrabrant, who, anticipating the summons, had been hovering nearby. together with elmer, the scout master hurried up. "the water is boiling all right," he announced, "and number five wins. but keep going, the balance of you, until we learn who comes in second and third." matty eggleston proved an easy second, while ted burgoyne edged in just ahead of mark, because, as he claimed, his "blowing apparatus worked better." "but i think we ought to protest that win of lil artha," declared chatz maxfield, although he had been one of the last in the bunch. "on what grounds?" asked mr. garrabrant, smiling, as though he had expected to hear something of the sort, though hardly from one who had no chance of winning. "when his kettle upset he didn't go all the way to the lake to fill it again, as he ought to have done," said red huggins, who had also the ill fortune to overturn his tin vessel when the water had begun to steam, and who naturally felt a little "sore" as he termed it, because it was too late for him to enter again. "listen while i read the terms of the competition again," said mr. garrabrant. "i wrote them down so as to be prepared for any event; that's one of our cardinal principles, you know, boys. here it especially states that 'any competitor who upsets his kettle at any time during the test may have the privilege of filling the same again from the nearest water.'" "oh! i didn't think of it that way, sir!" exclaimed red. "that's just it," smiled the gentleman. "you failed to grasp all there was in that rule, while arthur analyzed it. he undoubtedly laid his plans beforehand, in which he proved himself a true scout, preparing for eventualities, even though he may not have expected to meet with such an accident. he remembered that little stream, and even the fact that there was a small basin scooped out where a pail could be quickly dipped in and filled. all the more credit to arthur for his forethought. he doubly deserves the honor he has won, and i congratulate him on his victory. it will be an object lesson to the rest of you. in time of peace prepare for war. and now we will turn our attention to another test. perhaps some of the rest may excel in that. i want everyone to do his very best, and earn marks that will help to take you out of the tenderfoot class and make second-class scouts." it was now the turn of elmer to interest his camp-mates. he had been looking around before this, and laid his plans, so that he was able to lead the entire bunch to a neighboring gully, where in the soft mud alongside a stream he had discovered several distinctly separate sets of animal tracks. here he pointed out to them the marked difference between the trail of a muskrat from that of a mink, and even went so far as to tell a number of things which the latter cautious animal had probably done in his passage down the ravine in search of food. mr. garrabrant listened carefully himself, and nodded approvingly from time to time, to show how much he liked elmer's way of reasoning. "you can see, boys," he remarked finally, when the lesson was over for that occasion, "what a vast amount of mighty interesting information can be drawn from so simple a sign as the spoor of a little slender-bodied mink. elmer has made a study of the animal, and knows his ways to a dot. i think he described all that the mink did on his way along here, just as it actually occurred. and the deeper one dips into such woods' lore, the more fascinating it is found. all around you are dozens of things that strike the educated eye as deeply interesting and worthy of study, but which would never be seen by the tenderfoot. and it is this power of observation that we wish our boy scouts to employ constantly. once the fever takes hold, a new life opens up for the lover of nature." after that they busied themselves around the camp doing various things until lunch time. about the middle of the afternoon three relays, of two boys each, were sent out in as many different directions. they were not to take paper or pencil along, but simply to try to impress various interesting things they happened to meet with, upon their memories, and after they had returned to camp they would be given a chance to note these down on paper. the one of each pair who could excel in his description as to the number and interest of the things seen, would receive merit marks. and later on the three victors might be pitted against each other again. while the six boys were absent, for they had a couple of hours in which to accomplish their end, those left in camp found plenty to do. mark spent some time in developing the films he had exposed thus far, having a daylight developing bath along with him. in this way he could find a possible chance to duplicate any pictures that, for some unknown cause, failed to do justice to the subject. if he waited until they returned home to get to work, the chances would have gone forever. everybody seemed happy but ted burgoyne, and he went about with an expression of gloom on his face that of course may have been assumed. "didn't think you took it to heart so, ted," remarked elmer, as he confronted the other, while the rest of the stay-at-homes were busily debating some question near the camp fire. "oh!" exclaimed the scowling one, disconsolately; "it ain't about losing my chance in that blooming old competition, by falling all over mythelf in the thtart! oh! no, that doethn't bother me one little bit, becauth you thee, i just knew i had no chance against thuch a hustler as lil artha." "then your breakfast must have disagreed with you," persisted elmer, "though it's the first time i ever knew you had a weak stomach, ted." "you're away off again, partner," grumbled ted. "fact ith, to tell the honest truth now, like every good scout ought to do, you're all too plagued healthy a bunch to thuit me, that'th what." "what's that--healthy?" remarked elmer, and then a faint grin began to creep over his face, as he caught on to the meaning of the words. "oh! i see now; your heart's just set on doing good to others, ain't it? you dream of binding up cuts, and putting soothing liniment on bruises. and so far, not one of the boys has had the kindness to fall down the rocks, cut himself with the ax, or even get such a silly thing as a headache. it's a shame, that's what it is, ted!" "well, you can poke fun all you want," grumbled the would-be surgeon, with an obstinate shake of his head, "but after a fellowth gone to all the trouble to lay in a thtock of medicine, and studied up on cuts and bruises and all thuch things till he just feels bristling all over with valuable knowledge, it'th mean of the fellowth to take thuch good care of their precious fingers and toes. what d'ye suppose i'm going to do for a thubject, if this awful drought keepth on? why, i don't believe fourteen wild boys ever kept together tho long before, without lots of things happening that would be just pie for a fellow of my build. now--" but the lamentations of poor dr. ted were interrupted at this point, so elmer never really knew just how far the matter went, or if after all it were a joke. toby jones had sprang to his feet, showing the utmost excitement, and dancing around as though he had suddenly sat upon a wasp's nest. "what ails the fellow?" remarked elmer; "he seems to be pointing up at the top of the mountain, as if he saw something there. well, i declare, if that doesn't just beat the dutch now; and to think that it was toby, the boy who is wild over aviation, who first discovered it"; and meanwhile toby had found his voice to shriek: "a balloon! look at the balloon, would you, fellows? and she's coming right down here into my hungry arms! oh! glory! such great luck!" chapter vii. the lost sky traveler. half a dozen boys started to cry out at once, as they stared at the great bulky object that was apparently settling down, after passing around a spur of the mountain above. "she's coming right at us, fellows!" shouted one. "ain't that a pilot hanging to the old basket?" demanded a second. "nixy it ain't, jasper. go get your glasses, so you can see better. that basket is plumb empty, and that's a fact. the bally old balloon's deserted, boys!" lil artha declared, and as he was known to have particularly trustworthy vision, the balance of the group accepted his word as the right thing. apparently the balloon had been steadily losing gas of late, for the enormous bag had a collapsed look. it seemed to have gotten into some circular current of air, once beyond the mountain, for it kept moving around in spirals, all the time dropping slowly but positively. so that unless a new breeze caught it, the chance seemed to be that it would actually alight on the shore of the lake, close to the camp. "get ready to man the boats if it falls in the lake, boys!" called mr. garrabrant, who recognized the fact that such a balloon must be worth considerable to his little troop in the way of salvage, and was determined to do what he could to save it from sinking out of sight. but in the end it managed to drop on the pebbly beach. the very first to touch the collapsed gas bag was the exuberant toby jones, wild with delight over this remarkable happening that had come to him. "i claim it by right of discovery, and the first to lay a hand on the balloon!" he shouted, as he fondly ran his fingers along the strong material of which the air vessel was constructed. "where on earth could it have come from?" more than one of the boys asked, as they surveyed the immense girth of silken cloth with wondering eyes. "there's a circus over at warrendale," announced ted. "perhaps she broke away from there in a wind storm, or else bucked the aviators out. whew! think of tumbling down hundreds of feet! guess i couldn't 'a' been of much use around there, if that's what happened to the air navigators; the more the pity," and ted actually looked discontented, as though another golden opportunity had slipped past him. "sounds like a good guess, ted," remarked elmer; "but there happen to be several things to knock it silly." "as what?" demanded the boy with the long legs, who always wanted to be shown. "for instance, you know where warrendale lies, off to the east from here," the scout leader explained, in the most accommodating way possible, "while this thing must have come from the west! you saw it sail over the mountain up there, and we've been having constant west winds for several days now. isn't that so, mr. garrabrant?" "every word of it, elmer," replied the gentleman, who was never happier than when listening to this wide-awake scout substantiating his claim. "and besides, here's a name sewed to the balloon--_republic_! seems to me, sir, i've seen that name before. unless i'm away off it was one of the big gas bags entered for that long-distance endurance race, which was to come off away out in st. louis, or somewhere along the mississippi river." "oh! my, just to think of it, fellows!" gasped toby, his face fairly aglow with overwhelming delight, while he continued to fondle the material of which the collapsible balloon was constructed, as though he might be almost worshiping the same. "why, that's hundreds and hundreds of miles away!" declared another incredulous one. "don't seem possible, does it, that a balloon could sail that far?" a third had the temerity to remark, when toby turned upon him instantly, saying: "say, you don't read the papers, do you? if you did you'd know that in a drifting race a balloon went all the way without touching ground from st. louis up into new england, while another passed over into canada away up above quebec, and won the race. others fell near baltimore, and such places. there can't be any doubt about it, boys, this wanderer has drifted all the way from the old mississippi. but whatever could have become of her crew?" the thought saddened them for the time being, but it was difficult for toby to subdue the excitement under which he was laboring. "oh! if i only knew how to manufacture gas so as to fill her up again, mebbe i wouldn't like to take a spin, and surprise the hickory ridge people, though! think how my dad's eyes would bulge out, fellows, when i landed right in his dooryard, and asked how ma was? ted, you know lots of things--can't you tell me how to make hot air?" ted did not answer, only grinned and looked toward lil artha so very suggestively that the rest burst out into a howl, for the long-legged boy was known to be something of an orator, who could speak for half an hour if warmed up to his subject. "none for sale!" remarked that individual, promptly, whereat toby pretended to be grievously disappointed, for he gave the tall boy a look of scorn, saying: "there he goes again, fellows; declining to make a martyr of himself for the sake of science. why, i even heard dr. ted offering to sew on his finger again so neat that no one could tell where it had been separated, and would you believe it, lil artha was mean enough to abjectly decline? but i'm going to think over it, and if i can only fill this big bag with gas i'll leave camp on a little foraging expedition, to bring back more grub. for ginger is eating us out of house and home, ain't he, mr. garrabrant?" so they laughed and joked as they continued to gather around the balloon that had seemingly dropped from the skies. elmer alone was thoughtful. he could not but wonder what the story connected with the _republic_ might be. had the brave pilot and his assistant been thrown out in some storm which they were endeavoring to ride out? if that proved true, then the history of the fallen balloon must be a tragic one. under the direction of the scout master they dragged the tremendous bag, now emptied of its gaseous contents, and piled it up close to the camp. when the time came for the return trip possibly they might find some means for transporting the balloon to the home town, and when the fact of its discovery was published in the great new york dailies, the name of hickory ridge would become famous. this new event afforded plenty of topics for conversation. as usual the boys argued the matter pro and con. they even took sides, and debated with considerable heat the various phases of the happening. some of them got out paper and pencil to figure just how many hours it might take a balloon to come all the way from st. louis for instance, granting that a westerly breeze prevailed. all sorts of ideas prevailed as to the number of miles an hour the wind had blown, ranging from five to fifty. in the end, after all theories had been ventilated, the boys were no nearer a solution of the mystery than before, only it seemed now to be the consensus of opinion that the _republic_ must have been entered in some race, and possibly away out on the bank of the mighty river that divides our republic almost in half. "about time some of our strollers turned up, i should think," remarked mr. garrabrant, as he and elmer sat in front of the tents, listening to the jabbering of the disputants, though all the argument was carried on in good temper. "speak of an angel, and you hear its wings," laughed the scout leader, as a shrill halloo came from the woods close by. two of the boys who had gone forth to observe such things as they came across, presently appeared in camp. they looked tired and hungry, and began to sniff the appetizing odors that were beginning to permeate the camp, for several messes of beans were cooking, and ginger was employed in preparing a heap of big onions for a grand fry that would just about fill the bill, most of the boys thought. but while the incidents accompanying their long walk and climb were still fresh in their memories they were made to sit down alone, and write a list of those things they could recall, and which had impressed them most of all. presently two more weary pilgrims came in sight, limping along, and only too glad to get back safe and sound. ted kept an eager watch and tally as they made their appearance. his face was seen to drop several degrees when, in answer to the solicitous inquiries of the scout master, they reported no accidents, and all sound. "there goeth another golden opportunity!" ted exclaimed, shaking his head in real or assumed disgust. "i never thaw thuch ungrateful fellers in all my life. why, it begins to look like _nobody_ would even get a finger thcratched. i expect after all i'll just have to get tom cropthey to let me pull that tooth of hith that aches like thixty. i hate to come down to it, but thomething's got to be done to thave the country!" "it don't hurt now, i tell you," remonstrated tom. "you needn't go to coaxin' me any more, because i tell you right off that i ain't meanin' to have it out when it acts decent like. wait till she gets me goin' again, anyhow. and that's straight off the reel, take it or leave it." the second couple were likewise settled off, each fellow by himself, and the balance of the troop ordered not to disturb the train of their thoughts until both had jotted down the smallest item that they had noticed. in the end the papers would be read aloud, and many interesting things be disclosed, showing what a fund of knowledge there lies all around one at any time, if only he chooses to take notice of the same. "that leaves only red and larry to be heard from," remarked mr. garrabrant, who believed he had great reason to congratulate himself, as well as his boys, on the fact that thus far so little had happened to cause trouble, no matter how much the ambitious, and only too willing, doctor-surgeon might bewail his hard luck. "they ought to be coming soon, sir, because it won't be long before dusk now. and i don't think either of those boys would care to be lost up here after nightfall," elmer observed, listening as though he fancied he had caught some suggestive sound up the steep slope, that might betray the coming of the last pair. "i wonder did any of the others happen to see them?" said the scout master. "here comes the first couple, having finished their task. this way, boys, please; i want to ask if either of you in the course of your wanderings happened to run across oscar huggins and larry billings? they are the only missing scouts, and as the hour is growing late, i would like to get a point as to where they may be." neither of the returned ones, however, could give him the least information, nor was he able to succeed any better when he asked the other couple. apparently the absent pair must have taken a course entirely different from any of their comrades. the twilight now began to gather under the shelter of the high mountain, and mr. garrabrant looked a bit worried. if the boys had been unfortunate enough as to lose themselves, he knew that they had taken plenty of matches along, and moreover they had been instructed in various devices whereby they might communicate with their comrades, by waving a burning torch, for instance, from some high elevation, certain movements standing for letters in the morse code, as used by the signal corps of the army. "i think i hear voices up yonder, sir," remarked elmer, coming up behind the scout master, who was watching the finishing preparations for supper that were going on at the several fires. "yes, i thought so myself, and what you say, elmer, makes me more positive," mr. garrabrant observed, a smile taking the place of the grave look on his handsome face. "yes, there they come yonder, looking as tired as the others. and it may be that i deceive myself, but it strikes me both lads seem to be greatly excited over something or other. i sincerely hope nothing has happened to injure them. i notice no limp in their gait, and each seems to have the full use of both arms. what can have happened to them now?" "at any rate we'll soon know, sir, for here they are," said elmer, encouragingly, as red and larry limped up to the camp, and with sundry grunts sank upon a log as if to signify how utterly exhausted they might be. "but tired or not, sir, we're just ready to go out again with you, after we've had some supper," declared red, to the utter wonderment of the clustering scouts. "then i was right in my surmise, and you _have_ run across something out of the common, boys?" remarked mr. garrabrant. "yes, sir," red promptly replied, "we certainly have; and many times we felt mad to think we came away to get help instead of staying there, and trying ourselves to investigate, so as to find out what the groans meant we heard coming from that lonely hut!" chapter viii. a blazed trail. there was a chorus of exclamations from the gathered scouts, when they heard red express himself in this startling way. eyes grew round with wonder, and more than one lad almost held his breath, as he waited to catch further particulars of the strange happening that had befallen their two chums during their tramp. "where was this at, oscar?" asked the scout master, quickly, alive to the importance of ascertaining all there was to be made known. "i think it must have been all of a mile and a half from here, sir," returned red, who seldom heard his real name mentioned save in school or at home. "and the way is mighty rough, too, sir," larry put in, rubbing his chin as if it might pain him somewhat, which action caused ted to grin, and nod his head. "thee you later, larry," he muttered. "i bet you now, i don't let thith chance get away from me. that boy'th badly hurt, and just won't acknowledge it, but wait till dr. ted geth hold of him, that'th what." "do you think you can lead us back there, in case we make up our minds to go to-night after supper?" mr. garrabrant continued. "easy, sir," came the answer, in confident tones. "you see, we made it a point to mark the trail as we came along, by cutting the trunks of trees, and breaking branches so as to catch the eye. elmer was telling us lately how he did once when lost in the timber in canada, the 'bush' he called it, and we remembered." "that's just fine, oscar," commented the scout master, as though pleased at so great a show of forethought in two of his charges. "it shows what this business is already doing for all of you--teaching you to use your heads at any and all times. that was well done, and i imagine we'll have little or no difficulty in tracing your progress back, even if you are too tired to accompany us, for we will have elmer along." "oh! but i'm bound to go, if i have to drag my game leg behind me," asserted red. "you see, both of us feel sore over coming away without trying longer to find out what it was groaning so in that cabin, and we want to make good." "does it hurt you _very_ much, red?" asked the solicitous ted, coming up with a face that seemed marked with feeling. "sure it does, ted," replied the other, promptly, "and i'm going to ask you to rub some liniment on right away. reckon i just sprained it a little, slipping down the side of the mountain." "good for you, red!" ejaculated the pleased amateur surgeon, as he clasped the other by the arm. "come right along with me, and i'll fix you up in a jiffy. only too glad to be of thervice. and red, you're the only gentleman--" he suddenly paused, gave one smiling look around at the frowning faces of his mates, and then completed his sentence: "who hath applied to me for treatment. i'll never forget this kindneth, never!" "hold on!" remarked the scout master. "we must know a little more about this matter before you drag your patient away; though of course we expect him to survive the treatment. tell us about the lone cabin, oscar. how did you happen on it?" "we had turned," red started to say, "and were heading toward home, when all of a sudden i thought i heard a plain human groan. larry said he had caught some sort of sound, too. so we began to advance in that direction, going slow-like, because you see we didn't know what sort of trickery we might be up against. then we caught sight of a cabin that was half hidden among the trees and bushes." "ugh!" larry broke in with, "it just gave us both the creeps, sir, to see how awful lonely the old place looked, run down and neglected like. if chatz had been along, he'd sure have believed his pet ghost lived there." "but surely two sensible chaps like you and oscar wouldn't think of such a thing as that?" remarked mr. garrabrant. "oh! no, sir," replied red, after shooting a swift look toward his comrade in misery. "but you see, the groans kept on acomin' out of that window, and we could hear voices too. we didn't hardly now what to do, go on and knock at the door, or hurry back here to report. larry, he gave me a cold chill, i admit sir, when he just accidentally said that it might be a ease of smallpox in that hut--you know there were some cases this last spring to the north of the ridge." "and after talking it over, you decided that the wisest thing to be done was to make your way to camp, and throw the responsibility on my shoulders?" said the scout master. "well, perhaps it was far better you did this than take chances. i have no doubt but what you might have adopted a different course if you had not had help near by." "yes, sir, that's just what i said to larry--that you'd know best what ought to be done; but that if we were all alone in the region, we'd just have to go up to the door and knock." "and so you set out to reach camp as fast as you could?" continued mr. garrabrant. "that's what we did sir, and in such a hurry that several times we slipped and barked our shins, while i got a jar when i tumbled." "oh! i'll fix that all right, in three thhakes of a lam'th tail, if you'll only come over to my tent," said ted, tugging at the arm of each returned wanderer. and unable to resist his urgent plea, they allowed him to lead them away. later on when they once more appeared, as supper was announced by the assembly call, the pair of wounded scouts admitted that dr. ted had indeed done wonders, inasmuch that their pains had miraculously vanished, and they felt able to undertake the rough journey again--after they had broken their fast. there was much speculation during the meal as to whom mr. garrabrant would select to accompany him on his trip. of course elmer was a foregone conclusion, as his natural ability along the line of following a blazed trail might come in pat. but the scout master settled all doubts by announcing toward the close of the meal that he wished red, elmer, arthur, dr. ted (in case his services were needed), jack armitage and ty collins to accompany him. no one murmured, for they knew it would do no good. larry started to ask why he had been left out; but mr. garrabrant had noted his pallor, and understood that he did not possess the sturdy physique his comrade of the tramp boasted, and on that account had better remain in camp. another thing some of the observing lads noticed, and this was the fact that as a rule those selected, outside of dr. ted, were the strongest in the troop. perhaps, then, mr. garrabrant might anticipate trouble of some sort, and wished to have a healthy band of scouts at his back, especially since none of them carried arms of any kind--though the scout master really did have a revolver secreted in his bag, which, unseen by any of the boys, he now made sure to hide on his person. there could be no telling what they might find themselves up against. rumor had it that certain hard characters at one time made their headquarters somewhere up in the woods around the lakes, and who could say that the lone cabin might not prove to be a nest of yeggmen or hoboes? "how does your thprain feel; think you can thtand it?" asked ted of red, as they got up from around the fire and prepared to sally forth on their mission of mercy. "if you hadn't reminded me of it just then, i'd sure never have thought i had a game leg," remarked the other. "you're all to the good when it comes to doctoring a fellow, ted; if only you wouldn't talk so much about sawing off legs and all such awful things." "well, i'll be along in ease you feel it again, and i'll make thure to carry a tin of that magic liniment," remarked the ambitious surgeon, as he reentered the tent, to make up a little package of things he thought might come in handy in case they found some one sick in the hut. meanwhile, acting on the suggestion of elmer, the other boys selected such stout canes and cudgels as lay around camp. "be prepared!" grinned lil artha, as he swung a particularly dangerous looking club around his head until it fairly whistled through the air. "that's the motto of the boy scouts, and i reckon it applies in a case of this kind, just as much as when stopping a runaway horse. i'm prepared to give a good account of myself, that's dead certain." mr. garrabrant had fetched out a couple of lanterns, making sure that the oil receptacles were well filled, so that they would last through the journey, going and returning. "now we're off, boys," he remarked, with a pleasant smile. "the rest of you stay here and look close after the camp. i've appointed mark cummings to serve in my place while i'm gone, and shall expect every scout to pay him just as much respect as though i were present. lead off, oscar, we're with you." red took up his place at the head of the little bunch. he carried one of the lanterns with which he cast sufficient light ahead to see where he was going. "first to take you to the seven sentry chestnuts," he said. "we named 'em that, of course, when we came on 'em. the blazed trail commences right there, sir. we didn't think it worth while to do any more slicing of bark after that, because we knew we could easy enough find our way back to that place." and he did lead the party to the seven chestnuts, with only one or two periods of hesitation, during which he had to puzzle things out. "there's the first blaze on that oak yonder," he remarked, pointing as he spoke. "we tried to make the marks close enough so as to show by lantern light, because we both had an idea you'd want to come on before morning, sir." elmer was at the side of the leader by this time, prepared to lend his experience in case the other ran up against a snag. he took especial note of the general direction in which the numerous blazes seemed to run. and when presently red confessed that he was "stumped" if he could see where the next mark ought to be, elmer had them hold up while he walked forward in the quarter where, on general principles, he imagined the blaze should be. and in another minute his soft "cooee" told his comrades that he had, sure enough, found the missing mark. many times did red have to fall back on elmer to help him out. his blazes had apparently been further apart than he had realized at the time he made them. but the boy who had lived in canada, and experienced all sorts of frontier life, knew just how to go about making the needed discovery; and in every instance success rewarded his efforts. "we're getting close to the place now," red finally announced, as he limped along, refusing to allow ted the privilege of rubbing his strained leg again, because he did not want to waste the time. "then you recognize some of the landmarks?" suggested mr. garrabrant. "yes, sir, i do that," came the confident reply. "in another five minutes i think we'll be able to see something of that queer cabin that is half hidden in the dense undergrowth." "perhaps less than five minutes," remarked elmer, quietly. "look yonder, sir, and you'll just catch a glimpse of what seems to be a tiny speck of light. i think that must spring from the window of the hut red speaks of." "you are right again, elmer, as always," replied the scout master, drawing in a long breath. "now, forward, slowly, boys. let no one stumble, if it can possibly be avoided; for we do not know what we may be up against. but if there is anyone suffering in that cabin, it is our duty to investigate, no matter what the danger. elmer, lead the way with me, please." cautiously they crept forward, foot by foot. doubtless many a heart beat faster than ordinary, because there was a certain air of mystery hovering over the whole affair, and they could imagine a dozen separate strange sights that might meet their vision once they peeped into the little window of that isolated cabin. but no one would ever confess that such a thing as fear tugged at the strings of his heart. already the discipline they had been under since joining the scout movement was bearing fruit; timidity was put aside with a stern hand, and keeping in a bunch they advanced until presently those in the lead were able to rise up from hands and knees, glueing their eager eyes upon the little opening through which came the light that had guided them to the spot. and right then and there they heard a groan, so full of suffering and misery that it went straight to the heart of every boy who had been drafted by the scout master to accompany him on this strange night errand. chapter ix. what the lone cabin contained. when elmer chenowith looked through that opening, what he saw was so entirely different from what he had anticipated discovering that he could hardly believe his eyes at first. with all the fancy of a boy, who gives free rein to his imagination, doubtless he had fully expected to discover several gruff-looking hoboes gathered there, perhaps engaged in torturing one of their kind, or some wretched party who had fallen into their power. nothing of the sort. the very first object elmer saw was a small boy, dressed in ragged clothes, and who was trying to blow a dying fire into life again. this did not look very alarming; and so elmer cast his eyes further afield, with the result that presently another moving object riveted his attention. why, surely that must be a girl, for her long hair seemed to indicate as much! what was she bending over? was that a rude cot? then the strange truth burst upon elmer like a cannon shot. the groans--they must indicate that a sick person lay there, and these two small children (for the boy could not be over six, while the girl might be eight) were trying to carry out the combined duties of nurse, doctor and cook! "oh!" it was red himself who gave utterance to this low exclamation. he was peering in at the opening over the shoulder of mr. garrabrant, and what he saw was so vastly different from his expectations that he received a severe "jolt," as he himself afterwards expressed it. perhaps the sound, low as it was, reached the ears of the little girl guardian of the sick bed. they saw her give a jump, and immediately a pair of startled blue eyes were staring in the direction of the opening. "come!" said mr. garrabrant to his boys, "there is no need of any more secrecy. i think we are needed here, and badly, too." he led the way around the corner of the lone lodge, with the scouts tagging at his heels, only too willing to follow. reaching the door of the cabin they were about to enter, when mr. garrabrant uttered an exclamation of alarm. "get on to the girl, would you?" gasped lil artha; and there was no need of his attempting to explain, since his chums could see for themselves. small though she was, the girl had snatched up a long-barreled gun, and was now actually menacing the intruders. her white face had a desperate look upon it, as though at some time in the past the child had been warned that there were bad men to be met with in those woods. as for the little chap, he had hold of the hatchet with which at the time he must have been cutting kindling wood; for he clutched it in his puny hand, and looked like a dwarfed wildcat at bay. elmer, as long as he lived, would never forget that picture. and as for the other boys, not one of them could so much as utter a single word. "hold on, my child!" cried mr. garrabrant, raising his hands to show that they did not hold any sort of weapon; "we are friends, and would be only too glad to be of help to you. one of us is something of a doctor, if it happens that anyone is sick here. please let us come in." perhaps it was the kindly look of the handsome young scout master--then again his voice may have influenced the frightened girl; or the fact that those in the open doorway were mostly boys might have had considerable to do with it. then again that magical word "doctor" must have thrilled her through and through. the gun fell to the floor, and the relieved girl burst into a flood of tears. "it's dad!" she cried, moving a hand toward the rude cot behind her; and as the eyes of the boys flitted thither again, they saw a bearded and very sick looking man trying to raise himself up on his elbow. mr. garrabrant immediately went toward him, uttering reassuring words, that no doubt did much to relieve the alarm of the occupant of the rude bed. wisely had the long-headed scout master caused one of the boys to carry some food along, not knowing what necessity might arise. he saw that hunger was holding sway in this lone cabin as well as sickness. and while red started the fire to going, ty collins proceeded to unwrap the package of meat and bread, as well as the coffee and tea he had "toted" all the way from camp. mr. garrabrant with a few questions learned the simple story. the man was a charcoal burner in the summer season, while he pursued the arduous labor of a lumberman in the winter. a few months before his wife had suddenly died, leaving him with these two small but very independent children. abe morris, his name was, while the boy carried that of felix; and whenever the cabin dweller spoke of the girl it was always as "little lou." he had hated to leave the retired home where he had spent so many pleasant years, and near which his wife was buried. and so he had managed to get along, with the girl cooking his meals and playing the part of housekeeper wonderfully well; while even felix could do his stunt of gathering firewood and looking after a few simple traps in which he caught muskrats. when the boys heard that this small edition of a lad had been able to actually outwit the shrewd animals of the marsh, they looked at each other in dismay, as though wondering whether he might not have a better right to the title of scout that any among them. things had gone fairly well with the widower until a week back, when an accident had brought him almost to death's door. managing to drag himself home, he had swooned from loss of blood. since that time he had suffered tortures, more of the mind than of the body, since he dreaded the thought of what would become of his children should death claim him. they had done wonderfully well. when dr. ted got busy, he praised the simple but clever work of that eight-year-old girl, in binding up such a severe wound. perhaps little lou may have learned how to do this from the mother who was gone, or it might be it came just natural to her. when children live away from the world, and are forced to depend upon themselves for everything, it is amazing how they can do things that would puzzle those twice their age, when pampered in comfortable homes. necessity forces them to reach out and attempt things, just as she teaches the child to use its limbs, and utter sounds. once they realized that these were kind friends who had come so opportunely to their rescue, felix and little lou found their voices, and proved that they could talk, as lil artha put it, "a blue streak." and when they sat down to a supper such as they had not tasted for many a day, both of the children of the charcoal burner were comparatively happy. as for the man himself, he wrung the hands of mr. garrabrant and each of the boy scouts as they took their leave, calling down blessings on their heads for what they had done. "we're going to see you through, abe," the scout master had said positively. "we intend being up here ten days or so, and during that time i fully expect our dr. ted will be able to have you hobbling around again. then you've got to come down to hickory ridge when we send a vehicle of some sort up here for you. this is no place for a man to think of bringing up two such fine youngsters as you possess. they must have a chance to go to school, and i promise you all the work you want, so that you can live in or near town. it may have been different so long as your good wife was with you, but now it would be next door to a crime to think of staying here, even for the balance of the summer. you will come, won't you?" "sure i will, mr. garrabrant!" exclaimed the rough man; who, however, used better language than might have been expected. "and it's the luckiest day of my whole life when those two lads discovered my shack here. heaven only knows what would have become of us only for that." they left the queer home in the wilderness with felix and little lou waving their hands vigorously after them, standing in the doorway, and plainly seen against the firelight behind. and there was not one among those boys but who felt a warm sensation in the region of his heart, such as always comes when a kind deed has been performed. mr. garrabrant had been greatly affected by the incident; nor did he hesitate to express himself warmly on the journey back to the camp, which by the way elmer managed to accomplish without even one error of judgment, much to the admiration of his chums, who watched his actions eagerly, desirous of picking up points calculated to enhance their reputation as scouts. "boys, you may have made other tramps, going skating, hunting, playing baseball, and the like; but take my word for it, you never acquitted yourselves better than on this night. i'm proud of every one of you, and i thank you in the name of poor abe morris. and if there happens to be anyone here who has been wearing his badge upside down through the day, because he failed to find a chance to do anybody a good turn, i hereby give him full permission to set it right." "hurrah! that touches me, sir!" exclaimed jack armitage. "i've been wondering all along just how in the wide world i was going to find a chance to do my little kind deed stunt. there ain't any old ladies to help across the street up here; and dooryards to clear up of trash are as scarce as hens' teeth. but you've eased my mind a heap, mr. garrabrant. perhaps you'll let me do some of the running over to abe's cabin each day, to carry him supplies. that sturdy little chap just took my eye, and when i get back home i'm going to get father to give abe a job in his flooring mill." "that's nice of you, jack," replied the pleased scout master. "and it does your heart credit. between us all, it will be very strange if we can't fix up that little family, and bring some happiness to their bleak home. think of those two brave kiddies keeping house for their father amid such desolate surroundings. no wonder they made me think of a pair of wildcats ready to defend their den as we bustled in. they seldom see a living soul but their father, now that the mother has been laid away. but we must be nearly back at camp, i should judge, elmer? at any rate, i admit that i'm beginning to feel leg weary, not being used to this work of tramping over the side of a rough mountain." "but just think of red, here, thir," broke in dr. ted, who had a helping arm around the lame member of the expedition. "he thure detherves a medal for what he's done. tramping all thith distance with that thore ankle ith--well, i wath going to thay heroic, but i guess he wouldn't like that. anyhow, i think pretty much all the credit ought to go to red." "now, just you hold your horses there!" declared the party in question, trying to repress a groan, as he had a rude twinge of pain shoot up his left leg. "i owe all this to myself, and more, because i made the mistake of running off without finding out what that groan meant. i've wanted to kick myself ever since. it ain't often i play the part of a sneak, and it makes me sore. so whenever my leg hurts i just grin and say to myself: 'serves you right, you coward, for running away, instead of investigating, like a true scout should have done!'" "you are too severe on yourself, oscar," remarked mr. garrabrant, soothingly; for he knew the impulsive and warm-hearted nature of the boy who was taking himself so much to task. "when your companion suggested that perhaps there was a case of smallpox in that hut, it was your duty to come to me and report, rather than take the awful responsibility on your young shoulders. and i mean to see to it that you get many good marks for what you have done this night--not you alone, but every boy who accompanied me on this errand of mercy." "there's the camp fire, sir!" exclaimed elmer, at this moment. "i bet you redth glad to see it, poor old chap!" remarked dr. ted. "shucks! i reckon i could have stood it a little while longer!" declared the limping one; but when he presently reached the home camp, and sank down on a blanket, the pain he had been silently enduring all the return trip was too much for him, and red actually fainted. of course he was quickly brought to, and dr. ted looked to the injured limb. "you'll have to lie around pretty much all the balance of the time we're run up in thith neck of the woodth, old fellow," was his announcement; which dictum made red do what the pain had failed to accomplish, groan dismally. of course those who had been left behind were fairly clamorous to know what had happened. so sitting there by the crackling fire, with all those bright and eager faces surrounding him, the scout master, assisted at times by elmer, ted or lil artha, described their long jaunt over the grim mountainside, the finding of the lone cabin, just as red and larry had said, and what wonderful discovery they had made upon peering in through the open window. and every boy felt that a golden opportunity had come to their organization that night to live up to the high ideals the boy scout movement stands for. chapter x. wigwagging from the mountain peak. "ianother fine day for a few more tests, and such things, fellows!" sang out chatz maxfield, on the following morning, after they had finished breakfast. the night had actually passed without any sign of alarm. although chatz had fully anticipated a return of his stalking ghost, while he stood out his turn as a sentry, he had met with disappointment, for nothing happened. still, he did not wholly give up hope of meeting up with the "misty white object" again. the jeers of his mates had begun to take effect, and chatz really wanted to have the thing settled, one way or the other, as soon as possible. either there were such things as ghosts, or there were not. and he wished to be convinced, declaring that he was open to conviction, if only they could prove to the contrary. "yes," remarked mark cummings, who was near by, with others of the scouts; "and i guess mr. garrabrant has laid out a bully and strenuous old day for the lot of us, barring red and ginger, who are to keep camp. he speaks of sending one bunch to the top of mount pisgah, as this peak is called, while another tries to climb mount horab yonder. they ought to get up there about noon, and for two hours wigwag to each other, sending and receiving messages that are to be kept in books provided for the purpose. then, at night, when we all meet again around the camp fire, we'll have heaps of fun, seeing just how stupid we've been in our signal corps work." "don't you forget, mark," said red, who was lounging on a log close by, "that you promised to let me try a few prints from those negatives you developed and fixed. i'm a pretty good hand at that work, so they tell me at home, and i'd like to see how we all look up here in camp." "all right, red," replied mark, cheerfully. "you shall do the job, and welcome. i've seen some of your work, and it's sure the best ever. i'll fix up a place in the tent here, where you can hobble if you want to, after you've done your printing and want to fix the pictures." "but you want to go easy on that leg, remember," warned dr. ted, shaking a finger at his patient, just as he had seen the old family doctor do many a time. "you and jack are bound over the side of the mountain to visit the abe morris family, i heard?" remarked chatz, speaking to ted. "yeth, it is a professional visit on my part," replied the other, pretending to look very dignified. "but mr. garrabrant hath promithed that everyone of you shall have a turn to accompany me day by day, tho ath to make the acquaintance of those two brave kiddies, as he calls them, felix and little lou." "i'm right glad to hear that, suh," remarked chatz; "from what you all tell me, i'm quite anxious to meet up with that boy and girl. and if jack falls through with his plan of getting abe employment in his father's mill, i think i know just where he would fit into a good position." the two companies left camp about eight o'clock. dr. ted and jack armitage waved them good-by, for they too were getting ready to start on their errand to the lone cabin in the woods. elmer headed one group of scouts, while mr. garrabrant had charge of the other. they carried plenty of lunch along, though it was expected that they would surely be back before evening had set in. the scout master was not at all positive about his thorough knowledge of woodcraft; for as yet it was almost wholly theoretical rather than practical with him. "i am not above getting lost, in spite of my book knowledge," he had laughed, as he selected what boys were to accompany him; "and that is why i take matty eggleston, mark cummings, and arthur stansbury among my followers; because next to elmer, they are known to possess practical ideas concerning this traveling in unknown timber. so good-by, lads; we'll look to have a good talk with you across the valley." so day after day he expected to put the scouts "through their paces," as lil artha called it. to-day it was to be the great hike to the tops of the mountains, and the wigwagging contest between the two factions. to-morrow he meant to have elmer give further lessons along the line of following a trail, showing just how an experienced woodsman can tell from many sources how long ago the party had passed; the number of which it consisted; whether they were men, women or children; white or indians; and even describing some of the marked peculiarities of the members comprising it. then later on they would have swimming contests; first aid to the injured lessons; resuscitating a person who has come near being drowned; cooking rivalry; athletics; and many other things connected with the open life. it proved a long and arduous tramp for elmer and his companions. he had had the privilege of choosing which mountain he would attempt to scale, and just like an ambitious boy, had selected the one he felt sure would be the more difficult. those who followed his lead had many times to beg of him to halt and take a little breathing spell, for the way was very rough and much climbing of rocks had to be done in order to mount upward. "wow! are we ever going to get up there?" grunted toby, who had just hated to come on this expedition at all, when he would much rather have liked hanging around camp, and examining the deflated balloon; no doubt dreaming dreams of the time when he hoped to have the chance to soar away among the clouds in one of those gas bags. "seems like that mountain top is just nigh as far away from us as ever," complained larry billings, who was puffing at a great rate, as he seemed to be rather short winded, and had to be taken to task several times for his faulty manner of walking. "oh! no, you're greatly mistaken there," laughed elmer. "distances are deceptive in the mountains, to anyone not used to measuring them with the eye. just wait a little, and all at once you're going to realize that we're getting up handsomely. look across the valley, and see how high we are right now! that proves it, larry." "hey! what's that moving, away up on that other hill, elmer?" cried jasper merriweather, the novice and real tenderfoot of the crowd; who, under the careful supervision of the scout leader of the wolf patrol, was actually doing himself proud, and gaining new confidence in his abilities with each passing hour. elmer followed the line of his outstretched finger. "you deserve considerable praise, jasper, for making that discovery," he declared, presently. "i can see what you mean now; though when i looked across before i didn't happen to notice. yes, that's our other squad, climbing up just like we are, and not making any better job of it either, i think." "ho! they ain't near as far up, for a fact," said nat scott, with pardonable pride, since he had developed into a pretty good climber. "well, that mountain is not so tall as ours; but then it may be even rougher, for all we know," observed elmer. "i picked out this one because it was so high, and i always want to tackle the hardest job, if i've got any choice. it makes you feel all the better if you win out. but come on, fellows, let's pitch in. given one more good hour's work, and i think we ought to be pretty near the crown." "i hope so!" sighed poor larry, who was puffing still, and rubbing his leg where he had hurt it a little on the previous day; though it was nothing so bad as red's injury, aggravated as it had been by his stubborn determination to return to the lone hut and accompany the relief party. once more they struggled upward. sometimes they found the going so very difficult that they were obliged to give each other a helping hand. of course the view grew finer the higher they went. "say, elmer," remarked toby, as they halted later on to get their breath; "d'ye suppose now we'll be able to glimpse dear old hickory ridge when we get up to the top of this mole hill?" "sure we will," replied the leader, cheerily. "and that alone ought to pay us for all our trouble. we've only been away a couple of days or so, but i reckon it seems an age to a lot of us, since we saw the home folks." there was an ominous silence after that remark. doubtless every scout was allowing his thoughts to roam tenderly back to that beloved home which he knew sheltered those who were so dear to his heart. and possibly, unseen by his fellows, a tear may even have rolled unbidden down more than one cheek. for they were but boys, after all, and same of them had never even been so far away from the home nest before. elmer proved to be a true prophet, for ere the full hour was up even the doubting larry was obliged to confess that they had gained a point not far from the summit. this seemed to inspire the laggards to renewed efforts, so that presently, with loud cries of delight and admiration, the whole bunch struggled to the apex and had the view of their lives around them. "ain't this just too grand for anything?" gasped larry, as he squatted down on a stone and tried to pick out the distant village on the ridge where home lay. the others were doing the same; and all manner of exclamations followed, as this one or that discovered familiar landmarks, by means of which their untrained eyes could find the one particular spot about which their thoughts clustered just then. it was not far from noon, and when elmer declared that they had well earned the right to eat the hearty luncheon carried along, he was greeted with cries of joy: for it was a jolly hungry batch of scouts that gathered on that mountain top. while they ate they discovered that their mates had also managed to reach their goal. but no communication was attempted until they had thoroughly rested. then mr. garrabrant started operations himself, after which he probably handed the flags over to the scout who was to make the first test of his knowledge along the line of wigwagging a message, and receiving a reply. it proved to be interesting work, and all the boys with elmer declared that it held a peculiar fascination and charm about it. of course, in war times, such business must carry along with it more or less danger. they could easily picture how an operator must take great risks first of all to mount to some exposed position, where his flag could readily be seen, and then keep up a constant signaling with another flagman far away, while the enemy would doubtless be making every effort to break up the serious communications that might spell disaster for their cause. "anyhow, it won't take us near so long to go down the mountain as it did to climb up here," remarked larry, with satisfaction in his voice. "all the same," remarked elmer, "every fellow has got to be mighty careful just how he goes. no rushing things, you understand. it's easier to take a tumble going down than coming up. and we want no more cripples on this trip." about three o'clock they started to descend from the peak. every boy had to just tear himself away, after one last look at the distant ridge that lay bathed in the warm sunshine. and no one had a word to say for quite a time. the descent was made in safety, though several times one of the boys would slip on a piece of loose shale; and once larry might have had a severe fall only that elmer, happening to be close beside him at the time, shot out a hand and clutched him as he was plunging headlong, after catching his heel in a root. they all breathed a sigh of relief when the bottom of the mountain was reached. after that the going was much easier, and they soon drew near the camp. "wonder if the other fellows made as quick a getdown as we did?" remarked toby, who was hobbling along, footsore, and with his muscles paining from the many severe strains they had been compelled to endure during the day; but only too glad to realize that he would soon arrive where he could once more be in touch with that wonderful sky traveler that had so fortunately dropped into their hands. "i think it will be pretty near a tie," laughed elmer; "for just a bit ago i had a glimpse of them, where the timber opened up, and i judged that they were as close to home and supper as we are. put your best leg forward, boys, and don't let on that any of you are near tuckered out. where's your pride, larry? brace up, and look as if you felt as fresh as a daisy!" larry tried to obey; but it was hard to smile when he felt as though he had been "drawn through a straw," as he declared. "listen!" cried elmer, five minutes later, throwing up his hand for silence. "it's ginger, and he's yelling to beat the band!" exclaimed toby. "oh! i wonder what's happened!" gasped jasper. "run for all you're worth, fellows!" said elmer, starting off himself at full speed. quickly they broke cover, and neared the camp, to see the other party close by, also on the run. ginger was dancing up and down, still whooping things up, while red stood just outside of a tent looking startled and puzzled. "what's that ginger's yelling?" called toby, and it thrilled them as they heard. "'twar de debble dat time nigh got me! he's gwine tuh grab us all away in de chariot ob fire! i'se a gone coon, i is! runnin' ain't no use;" and ginger threw himself on his knees with clasped hands and rolling eyes. chapter xi. the hairy thief that walked on two legs. no wonder the returned scouts stared, hardly daring to believe their eyes and ears. some of them of course thought ginger might have gone out of his head. only on the preceding night had elmer been telling them what queer antics animals out on the plains go through with, when they have been eating the loco weed. there were a few who seemed to have a hazy suspicion that possibly red might be concerned in this strange fright on the part of poor ginger. true, the boy with the lame leg had apparently just dragged himself out of the tent, and the look on his face under that fiery shock of hair would indicate astonishment as genuine as their own; but then, how were they to know but what this had been assumed? mr. garrabrant, however, made direct for the moaning and wabbling negro, who had fallen on his knees, and with clasped hands was bowing back and forth in an agony of fear. "here, what's the matter with you, ginger?" he demanded, catching hold of the other, and while ginger gave a little screech at first, upon turning his rolling eyes upward he appeared to recognize the genial face of the young scout master. "oh! mistah grabant, am dat youse?" he cried, seizing hold of the other's arm. "i'se mighty glad tuh see yuh, suh, 'deed an' i is. am it gone foh suah?" "what gone?" demanded mr. garrabrant, sternly. "see here, ginger, have you kept a black bottle hidden away all this time while we have been in camp?" for he had a sudden inspiration that possibly ginger might be addicted to the failing that besets so many of his color. "'deed an' 'deed an' i ain't touched a single drap, suh," declared the demoralized one; "'clar tuh goodness if i has. it war dar, jes' ober yander, whar de box ob crackers am alyin' right now. an' he scolded me, suh, foh interferin' wid de liberties he am takin' wid dem provisions, dat he did! ugh! tuh t'ink dat i'd lib tuh set eyes on de ole nick!" "but what makes you think it was satan? perhaps it was only some wandering hobo who thought he saw a good chance to steal something to eat?" and the scout master sought to hold ginger's roving eyes fastened upon his own orbs, so as to rivet his attention, and secure a coherent answer to his question. "sho! dat was no human animal, suh!" exclaimed ginger, earnestly. "he done hab a cover ob red hair, an' de wickedest grin on his face yuh ebber see. reckon i knows de debble w'en i sees him." "well, from what you say, ginger, this queer visitor seems to have had a very human weakness for crackers," remarked mr. garrabrant, smiling. "was he carrying that package of biscuit when you saw him first?" "yas, suh, dat an' two more ob dem same. he drap it 'case he couldn't hold de lot, an' walk away too. yuh see, suh, i war cleaning some fish dat de boys dey fotched in las' ebenin', an' which we nebber use foh breakfast dis mornin'. den i tink i hyah some queer noise in de camp, an' i starts up dis a ways. 'twar den dat de hairy ole critter steps outen de store tent, and jabbers at me. i was skeered nigh 'bout stiff, suh, 'clar tuh goodness i was." "still, you shouted, for we heard you, ginger!" said mr. garrabrant. "reckons i did do sumpin' dat way, boss," admitted the negro, a faint grin striving to make its appearance on his ebony face. "dat was jes' when de ole harry, he was asteppin' into de bushes, acarryin' two ob de boxes ob crackers in his arms." "do you mean to say he walked erect, on two legs?" asked the scout master. "shore he did, suh, right along, ahuggin' de grub wid one arm, an' shakin' his fist at me wid de udder." "now you talk as though it _must_ have been a man--perhaps a wild man who may have been living in these woods for years?" suggested mr. garrabrant. but ginger shook his head in an obstinate fashion, saying: "i knows right well dat he wa'n't dat, suh; i'se dead suah 'bout it!" "but why do you say that; what proof have you it was not some sort of man, ginger?" "_'case he done hab a tail, suh!_" cried the other, triumphantly. mr. garrabrant smiled, and gave elmer, who was close at his elbow all the while, a knowing wink. "well," he remarked, "that tail business would seem to settle one thing, ginger. unless this turns out to be the long-sought missing link, our visitor could hardly have been a human being. he was evidently an animal of _some_ sort. get that idea of the old nick out of your head. listen to me, ginger, and try to remember; did he say anything to you?" "yas, sah, he did, lots!" answered the black man, eagerly. "suppose you tell us what it was, then?" suggested the scout master, quickly. "dar's wha' yuh got me, mistah grabant," replied the other, reluctantly. "yuh see, suh, i nebber did git much schoolin' down in virginny, whah i was bawn an' brought up. nebber did go to college an' larn de dead langwidges." "oh! then this creature talked to you in greek, or possibly hebrew, did he? in other words, he chattered in an unknown tongue! well, how about you, oscar; did you happen to catch a glimpse of ginger's uninvited guest?" and mr. garrabrant turned suddenly on red, as though wishing to make positive that this were not a clever trick he might have been playing on the terrified black man. "no, sir," came the ready response. "i was busy inside when i heard ginger give that war whoop! i thought he might have burned himself at the fire, and i hurt my game pin like fun when i tried to run out. all i saw was the coon down on his marrowbones asinging that same tune about the 'debble.' that's all i know, sir, give you my word for it." "all right, i believe you, oscar," continued the scout master, plainly disturbed by this new mystery that had descended upon the camp, yet pretending to make light of it because he did not wish to alarm the boys under his charge. "and now, ginger, can you point out to me just the spot where your strange friend vanished?" "'deed an' 'deed he ain't no friend ob mine, suh, gibes yuh my word foh dat," replied the other, solemnly. "right ober yandah, suh, whah dem bushes hangs low. an' i declars tuh moses, suh, i don't know right now whedder de ugly ole sinner he jes' step intuh de bushes, or go up in a cloud ob fire like de prophet ob old." several of the more impulsive scouts started to hurry in that direction. "stop, boys!" called the scout master instantly. "come back here, please. once before you succeeded in trampling all sign out, so that elmer was unable to pick up any clue. now, i want just elmer and mark to go over there, to investigate. after that has been done they will report to me. and now, let's settle down in camp, for i know you are all tired. supper is the next thing on the program." elmer, accompanied by his nearest chum, immediately walked carefully over in the direction of the spot which ginger had indicated. they bent low, and seemed to be deeply interested in certain tracks they had found. of course the boys shot many curious glances that way, but they knew better than to disobey the positive orders given by their chief. discipline is one of the first things taught among the boy scouts. about this time dr. ted and jack armitage got back from a day at the cabin. they had much to tell about what they had occupied themselves in doing all the time, preparing things so that in a few days the family could be moved, for mr. garrabrant had fully decided to take the sick man and his "kiddies" down in one of the boats to rockaway, where they could be looked after until the expedition returned. it was getting dusk before elmer and his chum joined the others. they did not give out any information, and to the inquiries of their curious mates returned only vague smiles and nods. supper was eaten with more or less clatter of tongues. there were so many interesting subjects claiming their attention that the boys hardly knew which to discuss first. when, however, the meal was about done, mr. garrabrant asked elmer to step aside with him for a short time. "here, let us sit down on this convenient log, elmer," remarked the scout master. "and please tell me what you found." "we had no difficulty in discovering the tracks, sir," replied the boy, whose experience on a canadian prairie farm and ranch made him a valuable addition to the ranks of the boy scouts at such a time. "was it a man or an animal?" asked the gentleman, as though eager to have that mooted point settled immediately. "oh! an animal, sir, there can be no doubt of that," replied elmer, smiling. "but those tracks puzzle me the worst kind. i know what the trail of a panther looks like, also that of a fox, a wolf, a bear, a deer, a coyote, a wildcat--but this was entirely different from any of these. it resembled the footprint of a human being--a child--more than anything i ever saw." mr. garrabrant smiled, and nodded his head. "i've got an idea," he said, "but go on, and tell me what else you learned. then i'll put you wise to what i suspect." "well," the boy continued, "the queer thing about it is that ginger was quite right when he said the thing walked on two legs. i could only find the marks of that many. now, i've seen a bear do that stunt, and educated dogs, but no other animal outside of a circus." "how about a monkey?" asked the scout master, quietly. "oh! mr. garrabrant, how could such an animal get up here? monkeys live in tropical countries only. but i can see that you've got an idea. please let me hear it." "listen then, elmer," the other went on, seriously. "now, i happen to know that just a month ago a certain gentleman named colonel hitchens, living on a country place he calls caldwell, just a mile outside the town of rockaway, lost a pet monkey that had been taught to do a lot of funny antics. the gentleman was an old traveler, and had brought the animal himself from some foreign land. i remember his telling me how he caught him, by filling some cocoanut shells with strong drink, and getting the animal stupid." "oh! that must be it, then!" exclaimed elmer, laughing, while the look of bewilderment left his face. "no wonder the tracks were a riddle to me. i've never as yet had the pleasure of hunting monkeys, or barbary apes, or gorillas. yes, sir, the more i think of it, the more i believe that you've hit the truth. it must have been a monkey, hungry for some of the things he had been used to when held a prisoner at colonel hitchens'." "i saw the beast perform once," mr. garrabrant went on, "and he was really a marvel. he was a big chap, too, hairy and ugly. when he chattered and scowled he certainly was enough to give one a shiver. no wonder then that he frightened poor ginger almost into convulsions. no wonder our factotum believed he had seen the old nick. but what had he better do about it, elmer?" "that's just what i wanted to speak with you about, sir," the boy remarked, with considerable eagerness. "now the chances are that, having once made a raid on our store tent, this monkey will come again another time, perhaps even to-night." "that sounds reasonable," replied the scout master, nodding his head. "by the way, i just happened to remember the monkey's name. it fitted him pretty well, too, as you'll admit when you see him. diablo it was." "just think of it, sir, just the name ginger gave him, too. but mark and i have decided to set a trap to catch him. we'll fix it so that if the monkey tries to enter the store tent again he'll set off a trigger, and some queer results will follow. for one thing he'll find himself caught up in the loop of a rope, and held, kicking, off the ground until we can come to corral him. then, if it happens to be in the night, the falling of the trigger will set a flashlight going, and mark's camera, placed for the occasion, will take a picture of the trespasser." "that sounds fine, elmer," laughed the scout master. "now, i leave the matter in your hands entirely. do what you think best, and i wish you success." "how about telling the boys, sir?" asked elmer. mr. garrabrant thought it over a moment. "perhaps you'd better take the whole bunch into your confidence," he said, presently. "they are deeply interested, you know, and if kept in ignorance possibly some one might stumble across your plans, and upset every calculation." and so, when elmer returned to the fire, he had the entire bunch listening, their eyes round with wonder, as they learned what had been discovered, and also of the bright plans their chums had arranged looking to the capture of diablo. only ginger was evidently disturbed. he scratched his head as he listened, as if he could hardly believe what he saw had been of this earth, and the idea of elmer being so rash as to want to try and make a prisoner of the evil one gave the ignorant negro a cold shiver. doubtless he would make sure to find a snug place to sleep that night, where nothing could get at him. his mind was still filled with foolish notions concerning that "chariot of fire" in which he might be carried out of this world into the great unknown. chapter xii. laying a ghost. "iwell, elmer," remarked mr. garrabrant, the next morning, as he came out of his tent and met the young scout leader face to face, "i must have slept unusually sound last night, for the alarm failed to awaken me!" "there was no alarm, sir," smiled elmer. "meaning that we did not have the pleasure of a second visit from diablo, the educated monkey, is that it?" asked the scout master, pleasantly. "yes, sir," the boy went on, "diablo must have secured enough rations in his first raid to last him for twenty-four hours. but mark and myself do not think of giving our job up yet awhile. we expect to catch a likeness of our hairy visitor, even if the trap fails to work, and hold him a prisoner. i suppose colonel hitchens would be very glad to have the beast back, if it turns out that this is diablo?" "i'm sure of it, and as he is a wealthy man, no doubt he would willingly pay a round sum to those who would return his pet," mr. garrabrant declared. "oh! we were not thinking of that, sir, i give you my word," declared elmer; "but possibly, if we did happen to succeed, the gentleman might be willing to do something for poor abe in return for our restoring his pet." the scout master looked keenly at elmer, and then thrust out his hand impulsively. "that was well said, my boy," he remarked, with a little quiver in his voice. "i am proud to know that you feel that way toward the unfortunate. and i give you my word, if you are so fortunate as to capture diablo, i'll convince colonel hitchens that it is his _duty_ to do a lot for abe and his little flock. that boy is made of the right stuff, i'm sure, and ought to have the advantages of an education. i'm going to see that he has his chance." "yes, sir, just to think of a kid not over six years old being able to set a muskrat trap, and actually take skins. why, i know a lot about the little varmints, and i give you my word, sir, they're pretty sharp. it takes a bright boy to outwit an old seasoned muskrat. he showed me quite a lot of skins he had cured, of course under his father's directions." "and then that girl, little lou--think of her doing all the cooking for the family ever since her mother was taken away?" continued the gentleman. "she's a darling, if i ever saw one. i grew quite fond of her, and mean to see more of them all. but i ought to be laying out the program for to-day's work." "what are we to try to-day, sir?" asked elmer, who, as second in command, had privileges in talking with the scout master that none of the other lads dared assume. "well, as it promises to be a warm day, we might try the swimming test for one thing," replied mr. garrabrant, thoughtfully. "at the same time there is that feat of landing a big fish with a rod and a small line, the said fish being of course an active boy, who does his best to break away. while we're at it, we may as well go through our usual formula whereby anyone who has been nearly drowned may be resuscitated again. and last, but not least, we can have dr. ted give us his talk on first aid to the injured. he will get back in good time if he leaves after lunch for the morris cabin." "i think chatz is waiting to speak to you, sir," remarked elmer, who had been noticing the southern lad hovering near for some little time, looking queerly in their direction. "is that so?" remarked mr. garrabrant. "now i hope he hasn't been seeing more of his hobgoblins. that is about the only weakness charles seems to have. otherwise i find him a very sensible lad. if only he could be cured of his belief in the supernatural it would be a good thing." "well," laughed elmer, "some of us would be only too glad of the chance to cure him. shall i go away, and let him have an interview, sir?" "no, remain, and hear what charles has to say. it may be i shall need your services. this time the tracks of the ghost may not have been trampled out of sight, and you can give a guess at its character. i never in all my life knew of so many queer happenings inside of so short a time." the scout master beckoned toward chatz, and obeying the mandate the southern boy came quickly forward. "you wish to speak with me, charles, i imagine?" "yes, sir," replied the other, with a frown on his brow. "has something happened again to disturb you?" inquired mr. garrabrant. "yes, sir." "last night, i presume, since you would have spoken before, had it happened yesterday?" the scout master continued, quietly. "last night it was, sir. i saw it again!" remarked chatz, appearing to swallow something that was in his throat. "oh! you mean that mysterious white object which appeared to you on the other occasion, and seemed to assume all the characteristics of a supernatural visitor? in other words, charles, your pet ghost?" remarked mr. garrabrant. the boy flushed, but held his ground. "of course," he said, slowly, "i understand what a contempt you have for any such idea, sir; and indeed, i only wish it could be shown to me that this is only some natural object, and not of the other world. i'd be too glad to know it. i hate to think i'm given to such ideas, but they seem to be a part of my nature, and i can't help it, try as i may." "well, perhaps we may be able to assist you, charles," returned the genial scout master, laying a hand on the lad's shoulder in a way that quite won his confidence. "now tell me what you saw, when and where, also what it looked like." "i think it was in about the same quarter as before, sir. my watch happened to come late in the night this time, in fact just before dawn broke. i heard again that blood-curdling sound, a plain 'woof'! and raising my head i could just make it out in the darkness. it was white, as before, and it moved! then all of a sudden it seemed to vanish most mysteriously." "well, did the other sentry see anything, charles?" asked mr. garrabrant. "we had arranged it all between us, sir, ty collins and myself. and he will tell you, sir, that he saw just what i did," replied chatz, earnestly. "that sounds as though you might have seen _something_, then," smiled mr. garrabrant. "and elmer, you were so successful in picking out those other tracks, suppose you try again." "shall i go now, sir?" asked the other, readily. "i would like you to. if you find a trail, you might follow it up a bit. perhaps charles would like to accompany you." "yes, sir, i would, if you didn't object," replied the southern lad, quickly. "very well," nodded the scout master. "report to me when you are through, elmer." so the two boys went away together. some of the others, seeing them bending down as though examining the ground, made a move as if to join them, but mr. garrabrant was watching, and called them back. he saw elmer, followed by the wondering chatz, walk slowly away, his head bent low, as though he were following some sort of trail. and the scout master laughed softly to himself as he muttered: "i fancy charles is about to have a little surprise, now that elmer has found a trail to follow. because, as a true believer in ghosts, he must realize that anything that leaves traces behind can hardly claim supernatural qualities." twenty minutes afterwards, shortly before breakfast was ready, the two boys came back again. chatz was smiling in a queer way, but elmer looked like a sphinx. the latter, obeying a beckoning finger, hurried over to join mr. garrabrant. "unless my eyes deceive me, elmer," remarked the gentleman, with a quizzical expression on his handsome face, "you've been up to your old tricks again, and finding out things. how is it, do you plead guilty to the charge?" "i guess i'll just have to, sir," replied the boy, also smiling now. "then you found a trail, did you?" "yes, sir," elmer went on, "a positive one; though the ground was that hard a greenhorn could never have seen it. and while chatz kept at my side i don't think he dreamed what i was doing as we went along. then, about a hundred yards away i heard that same queer 'woof' he spoke of." "it didn't give you a shock, i warrant, elmer?" remarked the scout master. "well, you see, sir, i've had too much to do with cattle not to recognize the snort of a startled cow! and that was what we saw just ahead of us. she had been lying down, chewing her cud, and our coming had caused her to get on her feet." "did she happen to have a white face, elmer?" laughed mr. garrabrant. "just what she did, sir," the boy replied. "chatz looked at me, and turned pale, then red; after which he laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. i think we put quite a spoke in his spook wheel, sir. he won't be so ready to believe in supernatural visitors after this." "it was well done, elmer, and i thank you for it. now, let's to breakfast, for we have a strenuous day before us," and the scout master led the way to the place where a bounteous meal had been spread for the entire troop of scouts. during the morning the swimming tests were started, and mr. garrabrant, who was a splendid swimmer himself, took charge of matters. some excellent work was done, and the timid ones taught how to strike out, to float, and to tread water, as well as various races inaugurated that were full of fun. after that came the wonderful fishing contest, where the boys did what they could to land one of their mates who played the part of a hooked fish, fighting to get away, just as a monster scaly prize like a tarpon might have done. of course elmer was the leader in this game, for he had had much more experience as a sportsman than any of the rest, but there were several who proved themselves good seconds in the trial, and who would make the winner look to his laurels in the near future. that brought them to noon, and matters were allowed to simmer while they got busy cooking a lunch to satisfy the tremendous appetites that the vigorous labor of the morning had developed. ted and lil artha expected to take a tramp over to the lone cabin during the afternoon. they could not start, however, until the concluding work of the day had been attended to. as this was to be "first aid to the injured" the presence of the only budding doctor in camp would be required, in order to explain many important things connected with this valuable adjunct to scout lore. it was possibly nearly three o'clock before the two lads got started. but that did not matter much, for by this time ted had become very familiar with the way of the blazed trail, and could follow it "with his eyes blindfolded," as he boastingly remarked, though elmer knew this was hardly so. some of the scouts were out on the lake, trying to coax a mess of fish to come closer to the fire and get warmed up. the taste of browned trout haunted them, and even mr. garrabrant admitted that the way elmer cooked the fish, they were finer than any he had ever eaten. it was to have the salt pork in a hot frying pan, until it had been well tried out, then having rolled each fish in cracker crumbs, or corn meal if the former were not handy, they were placed over the fire in the pan to brown. another time elmer broiled the fish, and the boys were uncertain as to which method they liked most. when they ate the trout cooked one way that excelled, and next day when the other method was tried they believed it could not be equalled. evening was not far away when a shout attracted the attention of all those in camp. even the few who happened to be inside the tents came hurrying out to see what it meant. "that must have been lil artha," declared elmer immediately. "nobody else has so loud a whoop. yes, there they come, he and ted, hurrying down the side of the mountain. they seem to be in something of a hurry, too." "and look at ted waving his hand, will you?" exclaimed toby, beginning to get excited himself. "he wouldn't act that way, fellers, except that there's something gone wrong. gee! i hope now the old man ain't been taken sudden, and handed in his checks! that would be tough on the kids, now!" mr. garrabrant heard what toby said, but made no remark. he was waiting for the coming of the two scouts who had gone across the mountain on their errand of mercy. the long-legged lil artha could have easily outrun his comrade had he chosen, but he made no effort to do so. still, as they drew closer, it could be easily seen that both boys showed unmistakable evidences of some tremendous excitement. and, naturally, their fellow scouts almost trembled with eagerness to learn what could have happened to affect them in this way. three minutes later and they drew up in front of the group, panting, flushed--their eyes sparkling with suppressed news. chapter xiii. taken by surprise. "iwhat's the matter with you boys?" demanded the scout master, as ted and lil artha drew up in front of him. "they've come in on abe, sir, and are threatening to do all sorts of awful things to him, the great beasts!" exclaimed the tall runner, between pants. "speak plainer, please," mr. garrabrant said, sternly, so as to subdue some of the rampant excitement that threatened to impede a clear flow of words. "who came in on abe--was it animals you meant, or men?" "men, thir, and two of the toughest you ever thaw," ted managed to declare. "they were eating up all the stuff we've been at such pains to carry over, and threatened the thick man with all thorts of trouble because he thaid he didn't have thuch a thing as a drop of whisky in hith place." "two hoboes, most likely," muttered the scout master, as his firm teeth came together with a snap that meant business. "that's what i thaid, thir, but lil artha, he theemed to think he recognized the bullies as a couple of jail birds," ted went on. "you see, sir," arthur spoke up as he saw mr. garrabrant look questioningly at him, "i remembered seeing the pictures of those two rascals that broke into some house near rockaway last spring. they had it posted up in police headquarters at hickory ridge when i went in to pay for our dog license. and i don't soon forget faces, sir, or names either, for that matter. unless i miss my guess these two ugly scamps were jim rowdy and bill harris, wanted bad in rockville, with a reward offered for their capture." "you may be right, theodore," observed the scout master, seriously. "they were never caught, i remember. the strange thing about it was, that the house they entered and robbed was that of my friend, colonel hitchens." "the same gentleman who owned the lost monkey?" cried one of the scouts. "exactly. but this is a serious matter for us, boys," the scout master went on. "our new friends are in danger, for there can be no telling to what extremes such unprincipled scoundrels might go, once they started. perhaps they may have an old grudge against abe, for the boys say they were threatening him. and it gives me a cold chill to think of these two innocent children being in their power." "will you go over, thir, and try to do thomething?" asked ted, eagerly. "surely," came the instant reply. "i would be unworthy to call myself a man if i failed in my duty there. but tell us more, please, how did you first learn of the presence of these ruffians there, and did you give away the fact that you had discovered them?" "oh! no, thir, they didn't thee us a bit!" exclaimed ted. "we happened to hear loud voices, you see, sir, when we were close to the joint," said arthur, bent on having his share in the recital. "tho we crept up, as thly as any indian could have done," added ted. "and peeked in at the window, just like we did that night we went over in a bunch," the tall lad remarked. "then we thaw what it meant," ted continued, catching his breath again. "those two big bullies had been eating, and made poor little lou cook nigh everything we left there yesterday. why, they were as hungry as hogs, i guess." "and they kept on shaking their fists at poor abe, who was lying on his cot, too weak to do anything," lil artha took up the narrative. "he seemed to be atryin' to get them to let up on him, but he looked nearly done for." "then we just crawled away again," ted concluded, "and run pretty near all the way back, because we knew you would want uth to report. lil artha wanted to tackle 'em by ourselves, but it was thilly to think we could do anything against a pair of desperate jailbirds like that." "under the circumstances i commend your discretion, theodore," said the scout master, "though the readiness of arthur to take chances in a good cause does him credit too. but let's hurry and eat supper. i can be arranging my plans meanwhile, and selecting those i would want to accompany me over the mountain." "i hope you will take me, sir!" exclaimed matty eggleston. "and me, too, sir!" exclaimed half a dozen others, in a breath. even the two returned scouts were anxious not to be left behind. "i'm not tired a little bit, mr. garrabrant!" lil artha hastened to declare, and dr. ted said ditto to that. "give me time, boys, to consider," the gentleman had said, waving them away. supper was quickly announced, and they made record time in getting away with a fine meal. no one even thought to remark upon the fact that it tasted better than any meal ever eaten under a roof, which had come to be a standing saying with the scouts by this time. many an anxious look was cast toward mr. garrabrant. they saw that his eyes had been roving around the circle, as though he might be mentally choosing those who were to be favored with a place at his side during this new errand of mercy across the mountain that frowned down upon the camp. and every scout was eager to be among the lucky ones, even the usually timid jasper merriweather. "i have decided upon the following to accompany me: ginger will go, because he is a man, and will be apt to inspire more or less respect in the hearts of the two rascals. then there are elmer, matty, larry billings, arthur stansbury, charlie maxfield, and theodore. i am taking him because we may happen to have need of his professional services," and when mr. garrabrant said this as though he really meant it, who could blame ted for unconsciously pushing out his chest a bit with pride? there could be no demur to this ultimatum. so those who were fated to remain did what they could to get their more fortunate chums ready for the excursion. the stoutest cudgels possible were hunted up, and handed over, with recommendations as to their convincing qualities if once applied to a stubborn head. "however," said the scout master, as they were ready to leave, "i am in hopes that we can take the rascals by surprise, so that there will not be any real necessity for violence. the rest of you stick by the camp while we are gone. you can wait up for us, if you want." "sure we will, sir!" declared one. "we couldn't any more sleep than water can run up hill." "and don't any of you meddle with the little trap we've got set by the store tent, remember, please," elmer flung over his shoulder as he was marching away. then they were off. counting mr. garrabrant and ginger, they were eight in all, surely a strong enough bunch to overcome two men, if only they might take the ruffians by surprise. ginger was far from being a coward when it came to things he could understand. this fact was known to mr. garrabrant, which was the reason he took the colored man and brother along. besides, his heft might have considerable influence in causing the two men to submit. as before, they carried a couple of lanterns. the light from these came in very handy to save the boys from many an ugly tumble, where roots lay across their path or rocks cropped up in the way. they conversed in whispers only. and as they finally drew near the lone cabin, even this style of talk was stopped by order of mr. garrabrant, so that they now crept along in absolute silence. he had told the boys of his plans, so that each member of the little party knew just what was expected of him. presently they caught sight of a dim light ahead. then came the sound of loud and gruff voices. this convinced them that the two rascals had not left the cabin. creeping closer, they could finally see through the little opening. and thus the scout master was enabled to complete the plan he had arranged. when he gave the word, ginger and the boys were to jump in by way of the open door. meantime he expected to thrust his arm through the window and cover the pair of desperate rascals with the revolver he had brought along. mr. garrabrant gave evidence of being in deadly earnest, for he knew that was a serious matter that confronted them, and one not to be handled with gloves. when he heard elmer give the cry of the whip-poor-will three times he knew they were all in their places. accordingly, he suddenly thrust his arm through the small window that had no glass, and covered one of the men with his weapon. "stand still, both of you! the hut is surrounded, and if you try to escape or offer resistance it will be the worse for you! seize them, men!" as mr. garrabrant called this out, and the two astonished scoundrels sat there, utterly unable to collect their senses, such was the complete surprise, through the doorway tumbled a crowd that hurled itself upon them. before they could grasp the fact that with one exception these were only half-grown boys, wearing the khaki uniforms of the scouts, and not regular soldiers, the men had their hands tied behind them. as they realized how completely they had been caught napping both of them started on a string of hard words, and looked daggers at their young captors. "stop that, now!" mr. garrabrant exclaimed, as he made his appearance in the hut, "or i shall be under the painful necessity of putting gags between your teeth. not another word from either of you, remember!" perhaps they recognized the tone of authority, or it may have been that they had no desire to force him to put his threat into execution. at any rate, they took it out in deep mumblings after that. the scout master saw to it himself that their lashings were secure. some of the boys had carried along a new supply of food for abe and his family, understanding the inroads that had been made in their limited stock. the sick man was full of gratitude for this second rescue on the part of his new-found friends. he told them how these two scoundrels had come to his cabin and taken possession--that he knew who they were, but that some years back they had been honest charcoal burners the same as himself. "well," said mr. garrabrant, "they graduated from that honest class some time ago, and have made names for themselves as yeggmen and thieves. they are badly wanted right now in rockaway, where some months back they robbed a residence, and nearly killed a butler who caught them in the act, and recognized them too. boys, when you feel rested, we will be on our way back to camp with our prisoners. to-morrow i shall take them down the river in a boat, and deliver them over to the authorities." all of which intelligence made the gloom gather deeper on the hard countenances of jim rowdy and bill harris. it took twice as long for them to make the march back to camp as when they went toward the lone cabin. in the first place, some of the boys were almost exhausted, particularly ted and lil artha, who were covering the ground for the second time since noon. then again, the two men, having their arms bound behind their backs, stumbled so often that they had to be helped. but along about eleven they came in sight of the cheery camp fire, and how very welcome it did look too. the boys greeted it with a shout, that was answered by those who had been left behind. when it was seen that they were bringing prisoners back with them, red and those who had remained at home with the lame scout became thrilled with eagerness to hear the full particulars. of course the others were just as ready to relate all that had occurred, and for some time the clatter of tongues would have made one believe he must be somewhere in the neighborhood of the tower of babel. mr. garrabrant realized that they were dealing with a pair of hard citizens, and he was resolved to leave nothing undone looking to their remaining prisoners. so he personally looked to their bonds before lying down, in order to make sure they could not break loose. a double guard was to be stationed on this night, because of the unusual conditions existing. it would be too bad, after all their trouble, should any accident occur whereby these men regained their freedom. so when the camp quieted down finally, there were just four boys stationed at certain points, and with orders to keep the fire burning brilliantly all the time. the balance "slept on their arms," as lil artha called it--that is, they kept those handy cudgels close beside them, where they could be readily found in case a sudden need arose for their services. because mr. garrabrant could not be entirely positive that the two prisoners did not have friends of a like character somewhere up here in the wilderness, who might attempt their rescue. chapter xiv. the things that make boys manly. mr. garrabrant laid his plans during the night, and when morning came he announced them to his boys. "i shall take these two men down to rockaway to-day," he said, "and deliver them over to the authorities. ginger will accompany me, and between us we can pull the boat up the current again, starting possibly in the morning. if we arrive there in good time, i may get a car and drive over to hickory ridge, for there are several things i ought to see about, that slipped my mind before." "and if you happen to see anybody who asks about us, sir, just tell them we're getting along dandy," declared lil artha. "so say we all of us," sang out several others of the scouts. "tell my folks they were poor prophets," remarked jasper merriweather. "in what way, my boy?" inquired the scout master; though, truth to tell, he could give a pretty good guess. "oh! ma, she said she'd give me one night to stay away; and pa, he told her that two would see my finish. but here we're going on our first week, and i'm feeling just fine. not a bit homesick, tell 'em, mr. garrabrant, please. and bound to stay the whole ten days, or bust." "good for you, jasper, old top!" laughed lil artha, patting the real tenderfoot encouragingly on the back. "and mr. garrabrant," put in ty collins, who was a pretty good "feeder" as some of the other boys often remarked, "don't you think you might pick up a little more grub while you have the chance. you see, we didn't count on so many mouths to feed while we were up here, and the way that stuff is disappearing is sure a caution. i know, because i do a lot of the cooking, you see, sir." "why, yes, tyrus, i had that on my mind," laughed the jovial scout master. "and we'll try and find room in the boat for a nice ham, some bacon, and a few more things that boys like. i guess i'm a good provider, taken on the whole. you see, we didn't count on feeding abe morris and his family, or these two gentlemen here, besides the frolicsome monkey that has taken a fancy for our eatables. if i happen to run across colonel hitchens i shall let him know we've got an eye out for his runaway pet." the two men were allowed to eat breakfast, one at a time, and mr. garrabrant and ginger stood over them while the operation of feeding was in progress. much as both of the desperadoes might have liked to attempt flight, they lacked the nerve to start trouble when those two stalwart men were within reach. and so, although they scowled and muttered, they made no resistance when they were tied up again. mr. garrabrant had found quite a nice little assortment of deadly weapons upon the pair, which he had confiscated. these he meant to take along with him, not feeling safe in leaving such things in camp, where several of the boys were quite unaccustomed to handling firearms, and some accident might ensue, for which he would be responsible. although no one suspected it until they heard the click of his shutter, mark had managed to snap off the entire outfit as they stood there, assisting mr. garrabrant load his prisoners into the boat. and it might be taken for granted that the official photographer of the camp had seized upon an opportunity when the two prisoners' faces were in full view, so that no one could afterwards reasonably doubt their claim to having captured the desperate men so long wanted by the rockaway authorities. of course the camp was left in full charge of the assistant scout master, elmer chenowith, with a parting injunction from mr. garrabrant that the boys were to render his representative just as much respect as though it were himself. there could be no doubt about that being done, since elmer was a universal favorite among his fellows, and had hardly an enemy in all hickory ridge. "i reckon, suh, we can manage to get along all right while you are away," chatz maxfield had called out reassuringly, after the boat had left the landing, with ginger working industriously at the oars, the two prisoners huddled amidships, and the scout master seated astern, where he could keep his eye pretty much all the time on the slippery customers. "if i wasn't positive about that, charles, i'd never be leaving you," was what mr. garrabrant replied, as he waved his hand to them. presently the fast-moving boat swept around a bend, and was lost to view. several of the boys sighed a little, and looked a bit downcast. despite their assumption of freedom from homesickness they could not help feeling that their leader would perhaps be in "dear old hickory ridge" that afternoon, and might even pass by their beloved homes, which it seemed they had not seen for an age. of course elmer, who had roved more or less, was not in this class. he knew better than to make fun of them, however. between himself and mark they had many a quiet laugh over the way the fellows made out to be so free from care. "i bet you it seems like a coon's age to some of them since they said good-by to mother and father," mark managed to remark, as they stood there watching the rest gaze down river after the vanished link that was to bind them with civilization. "sure it does," elmer had agreed. "do you know that little story about the kid who ran away from home, and what an eternity it seemed to him?" "i don't seem to remember," replied the other. "what happened, elmer?" "why, he spent the day of his life, you know. he had made up his mind in the beginning that he would never come back. then at noon he determined that a whole month would give his folks a good scare. the afternoon hung on terribly. minutes seemed hours, and at last he just couldn't stand it any longer. he had spent his last penny, but it was getting night, and he had never been without a home in the dark before." "yes, i can understand that, because once i did it too," laughed mark; "but don't mind me, elmer, go right along with the story. what happened to him?" "nothing. that's where the fun came in," replied the other. "you see his folks understood that kid, and they just made up their minds to punish him by not paying the slightest attention to him. so he came sneaking into the sitting room where dad was reading the paper, and mom was knitting. neither of them even looked at him. he thought that mighty queer, when he had expected to be hugged and kissed and cried over like one who had been lost a year. "after a long time, when he had coughed, and moved about without either of them paying the slightest attention to him, the boy was struck with an idea. he would say something that _must_ make them realize the near calamity that had happened. so he bent down to stroke the back of the old tabby that was purring by the fire, and he says, says he: "'oh! i see you still have the same old cat you used to have when i was home!'" mark burst into a hearty laugh. "i get the point, elmer, all right, and i guess it applies to a few of our fellows, but on the whole they've acted just fine. a better bunch of good-hearted boys it would be hard to find anywhere. and i tell you this outing's going to do every mother's son of them a heap of good. what they learn in this camp will pay a dozen times over for the trouble it's taken. i hope mr. garrabrant gets safely down to rockaway with his boatload of human freight. perhaps there won't be a sensation in hickory ridge when the news gets out that the boy scouts captured those bad men, and sent them to the police of rockaway with their compliments. i guess that's going some for a new organization of tenderfeet scouts, eh?" "i should say yes," replied the young scout leader, emphatically. "and after all, we've only got one more mystery to solve to have the slate clear." "you mean about that monkey business, i suppose?" suggested mark. "yes; and possibly we may be lucky enough to have that settled before mr. garrabrant comes back again," elmer remarked, confidently. "you think then we are due for another visit from diablo, say to-night?" "it stands to reason," said elmer, "that he will have eaten up all those crackers long before then, and knowing where we keep our supplies, you can count on him paying another call. so many around the camp in the daytime will keep him shy. you remember there were only ginger and red at home all day, when he was here before." "all right," remarked his chum. "we'll try and have a warm reception ready for our friend diablo. he's apt to be the most surprised monkey ever, once he hits that trigger; what with the loop snatching him up in the air, the flashlight going off with a great dazzling glow, and the yells of the boys as they get on to the racket. i just hope it turns out a good picture. it'll sure be the star of the whole collection. what?" elmer took charge, and proceeded to start the ball rolling. they were not intending to have any strenuous work while the scout master was away, but some of them coaxed elmer to give a few exhibitions of throwing a rope, and doing some other little tricks that he had learned while up on that canada cattle farm. he also went deeper into the track business, and the boys were so anxious to learn all they could about this fascinating study, that they all spent hours trying to find new footprints so that they could drag elmer thither, and get him to tell the sort of little animal that had made them, what his habits were, and all about him. then after lunch some words brought up the subject of picture writing. elmer had more or less to say about that, for he had been among the indians, and copied any amount of their queer methods of communicating. "it's just as simple as falling off a log, fellows," he said. "if a little kid were trying to make you understand that three men had gone down river in a boat, if he had any sense at all he'd draw a canoe with three figures in it holding paddles. a rock sticking up would have something that looked like foam on one side. that would tell you the water was running so, and that the canoe was going _down_ the river. if they were being pursued, in the boat behind a figure would be firing a gun. then they escape, for they go ashore and make a fire. all got away, for there are still three of them. and that's the easy way it goes. it just can't be too simple. a child might read it. and that's indian picture writing. now, suppose some of you try it. if anybody can read it right off the reel, then you've made a success of the job. but remember, this isn't any rebus or puzzle." so for some time the boys employed themselves in practicing this simple art, under the directions of the young scout master. they found it lots of fun, and of course there was more or less shouting over some of the wonderful pictures drawn, which the artists themselves could hardly designate, after their work became cold. dr. ted and mark had gone off with some more food, to find out how abe and his family were, after the exciting experience of the preceding day, and to tell them that their unwelcome visitors were by that time safely locked up in the rockaway strong box. mark wished to get a few pictures of the two "kids" in their native woods. they would not look the same after they reached civilization, where kindly women would only too willingly take them in hand, and fit them out with new clothes. toby fairly haunted the spot where the balloon lay in a heap, just as they had piled it up. doubtless the boy was indulging himself with castles in the air connected with the time to come, in the dim future, when he too might have a chance to fly through the clouds in one of these big gas bags, or with a modern aeroplane, which would of course be much better. and so the day wore on. as evening approached some of the boys mentally pictured mr. garrabrant talking with the good people of hickory ridge, and in each case it was a father or mother who so proudly heard what wonderful progress the boy was making in learning to take care of himself when left to his own resources. things went on as usual. they had plenty of trout for supper, of which dainty the scouts seemed never to tire. then a huge mess of rice had been boiled, which, served with sugar and condensed milk, proved a good dessert. but before that was reached they had a stew made of tinned beef, boston baked beans and some corn, while ty collins showed his skill as a flapjack maker by turning out several heaps of pretty fair pancakes. perhaps some of the scouts ate more heavily of these last than they should, for it was noted that at various times during the night a boy here or there would get to talking in his sleep, and show signs of restlessness that could only come from indigestion. nevertheless, when the time came for retiring, elmer gave the signal for taps to be sounded on the bugle, as lil artha declared, "everything was lovely, and the goose hung high!" chapter xv. how the trap worked. before they turned in after the rest, elmer and his closest chum, mark, spent a little time doing something mysterious over in the vicinity of the tent in which the extra stores were kept. the boys understood that it had more or less connection with the expected visit of the liberty-loving monkey, diablo, but like good scouts they minded their own business. everyone had been warned to keep away from that same tent under penalty of being given the surprise of their lives, and of a most unpleasant nature at that. of course, no one knew exactly what the scout leader had arranged; but all the same they felt positive it would meet the peculiar emergency. and each boy made up his mind that during his term as sentry nothing could induce him to saunter near that marked territory. a tall and vigorous young hickory sapling had by accident started on its way toward some day becoming the king of the woods right there in front of the tent opening. and elmer, quick to grasp the opportunities which fortune threw at his feet, had made use of this same healthy and sound young tree. from time of old he knew the value of hickory when one wanted a particularly springy bow. he and mark were panting a little when they finished a certain little job which doubtless had a bearing on the game. and strange to say, the upright hickory sapling no longer pointed toward the beckoning sky; but stood there with bowed head in meek subjection to the will of man. "think the trigger will run smooth enough?" queried mark, as they stood back to gaze at the evidence of their handiwork. "i've greased it!" chuckled elmer. "that's what they do out west when a big bear trap is used, and there's danger of the thing holding too well. do you want to step inside this loop, and give it a try, mark?" "please excuse me this time, old fellow," laughed the other. "i'm very well satisfied to stand on the earth as i am just now, and don't hanker about getting any nearer the clouds. i leave all that ambition to others, and particularly animals used to climbing trees. how about the rest of the tent, elmer?" "pegged down so solid that a mouse would have trouble crawling under," came the immediate and confident response. "that means if our friend diablo is as hungry as we believe, and is determined to make another of his raids on our grub, he's just _got_ to take advantage of the open door, eh, elmer?" "that's just what he does," replied the scout leader. "and we're going to get him one way or the other, going or coming. if he happens to miss getting caught as he trips into the tent, he won't be so lucky when he comes out. you see, at that time he's apt to have his arms full of the things we left around loose. he's greedy, like all monkeys, and will try to carry as much he can. then he can't see quite so well where to step. flip! bang! and there you are! lil artha hit it closer than he thought when he said everything was lovely and the goose hung high! we expect _our_ goose to do just that same thing." "huh! i guess this is what they call putting your foot in it, eh, elmer?" chuckled mark. "we hope it will be, that's right. but as everything has been done to a turn, don't you think we'd better hunt out our blankets? perhaps diablo may be watching us right now, crazy to get started on his raid. and then again, it may be he's far away from here to-night, and we'll find we've had all our trouble for our pains." "but you don't think that last, honest now, elmer?" queried mark. "if i did i wouldn't have gone to all the trouble i did," returned the other. "take one last look over your camera, and the flashlight powder cartridge. all o. k. is it? then let's leave here, and trust to luck for the rest." "i don't believe i'll get much sleep, for expecting to hear a racket!" mark declared, as they walked conspicuously away from the vicinity of the store tent, so that the keen-eyed monkey would see them, if, as they suspected, diablo were hiding somewhere close by, waiting for his chance to make another descent on the camp where all those delicious dainties were kept, to which he had grown accustomed during the period of his captivity--and liberty without these could not be proving all it was cracked up to be. "oh! i wouldn't let a little thing like this keep me awake," said elmer. "well, you see it's different with me," declared his chum. "i've had almost no experience in such exciting things, while you have been through rafts of it. but honest now, i'm hoping that our little game pans out a success. i've laid that big bag where we can grab it up on the run, and i saw you fixing the ropes handy. let mr. diablo just give that loop a tiny jerk when he gets his hind foot in it, and oh! my, won't he be the worst rattled jabberer ever!" now, secretly elmer himself was in quite a little flutter of excitement; but he knew how to hold himself in check better than did mark. he calmly arranged his blanket as usual, and then settled himself down as though such a thing as being aroused in the middle of the night were unthought of. and having practiced the control of his powers he did go to sleep very shortly; absolutely refusing to allow his mind to become active by dwelling on any subject that might agitate him. silence came upon the camp. the fire sparkled and crackled as from time to time one of the sentries stepped over to toss fresh fuel upon it. but acting under orders, they refrained religiously from ever passing near the store tent. if one of them chanced to be particularly vigilant, he must have discovered a shadowy figure that came slipping down from the branches of a tree that grew not a dozen feet away from the apparently abandoned tent. it made not the least noise, which would seem to indicate that it must possess feet shod with velvet; but crouching low, after a suspicious look around, started toward the depot of supplies. passing around this tent, sniffing at various places, and apparently seeking a means of entrance, the dusky figure finally came to the front, where that small opening stood so very invitingly in view. elmer, sleeping soundly, was suddenly awakened by a terrific screech, angry and vehement; immediately succeeded by the shrillest scolding and chattering he had ever heard. throwing aside his blanket, he started to crawl out of the tent. mark was at his heels, laughing for all he was worth, and chortling: "it worked, elmer, the trap went off! we've got him, i guess, all right! great guns; just listen to the racket he's making, will you? oh! hurry! hurry! before all the blood runs to his head!" it was only his great impatience that made him imagine elmer dallied; for to tell the truth, the scout leader emerged from that tent in double-quick time. both of them "scooted" for the spot where all that row was sounding; no other word would so fully describe the manner of their progress as well as lil artha's favorite expression. they were not alone in this forward rush. from every tent came creeping figures, as the scouts crawled forth. and by degrees the screeching of the monkey was actually drowned in the greater clamor of boyish shouts. it seemed almost as though pandemonium must have broken loose in that camp of the hickory ridge boy scouts, for a dozen pair of sturdy young lungs can make considerable noise once they break loose. it was a ridiculous spectacle that greeted them as they reached the store tent. the bent-over hickory sapling had sprung obediently erect as soon as the shooting of the trigger had released it from the crotch in which its apex had been gripped. and swaying back and forth, attempting all manner of high gymnastics, was a grotesque figure that stretched out its arms, and made frantic efforts to reach the body of the sapling, so as to climb up. "get the bag, elmer!" cried mark, the second that he arrived. but already had the scout leader snatched that article up and prepared to clap it around the struggling monkey, taking care to avoid being caught by those waving hands. "quick! the rope!" he gasped, after he had made a forward movement, enclosing the gyrating body in the stout sack. mark knew what he was doing, and in a brief time, during which the rest of the boys stood around watching in wonder, the struggling monkey was secured. "here, toby, hold this rope end for a minute!" called mark. the other was only too willing to obey, for it gave him a chance to say he had had a hand in the great capture of the hairy thief. ten seconds later there was a sudden brilliant flash that caused some of the scouts to cry out, in the belief that a storm had crept upon them, with the lightning giving advance warning of its coming. "it's mark, and he took a snap flashlight picture of the crowd standing around in pajamas!" cried lil artha. "oh! my, what a sight that will be to chase away the blues. if only my red stripes show, i'll be the happy one." "how about the first flash--did it go off when the monk pulled the trigger, mark?" demanded elmer. "sure it did," broke in tom cropsey, who had been one of the sentries on duty at the time; "and gave me a nasty scare. i never dreamed you had fixed things up that way, elmer; and at first i thought something had exploded. but what can we do with the critter, now that we've got him?" "oh! that's all fixed," laughed mark. "elmer made a stout collar which can be fastened around his neck so he just can't get it off. to that a rope is fastened, and mr. diablo will amuse the camp with his stunts the rest of the time we stay up here on old lake solitude. ready to work it, elmer?" "yes, give me a hand here, please," replied the scout leader, who had been cautiously taking the enmeshed body of the still struggling monkey down from the straightened hickory sapling. "why, here's luck!" exclaimed elmer, presently. "as sure as you live he's got a collar on right now, with a ring for a rope. there's a trailing foot of stuff fastened to it, showing just how he got away. all i have to do is to tie our stout line to that ring so even the clever fingers of a monkey can't unfasten it." when this was done, and the other end of the rope made fast to the sapling that had assisted in diablo's downfall, by degrees the rope encircling the beast was removed, and then the bag. the prisoner was inclined to be a little savage at first, because his taste of freedom had made him somewhat wild, and besides, these were all strangers to him. but he was very hungry, and upon being offered food seized it eagerly. after that they would have very little trouble with diablo, though he proved to be a treacherous rascal, and pinched more than a few of the boys who ventured to be too familiar with him. the scouts were ordered back to their blankets, and once again did the camp relapse into silence, save for the grunting of the satisfied diablo, as he continued to feast upon the sweet cakes with which he had been supplied. in this manner, then, was the last source of trouble laid low. ghosts and thieves they had encountered, but in the end success had rewarded their efforts, and it began to look as though the balance of their stay in camp might be more in the nature of a picnic than the first few days and nights had proven. when morning came the boys were early astir, and crowded around to stare at the prisoner. but with his stomach comfortably filled diablo was lazy and good natured. he refused to be bothered, and curled up on the ground like a dog, made out to sleep, though a careful examination might have disclosed the fact that one eye was partly open, and as soon as a boy entered the store tent he was on his feet, begging. but ginger would be the one who must feel the most satisfaction over the capture, for it would ease his mind concerning the necessity for cutting his stay on the earth short, and accompanying the evil one in a "chariot of fire." so that day passed very slowly as they awaited the coming of the scout master and his "ebony galley slave" who was to row the boat up-stream. chapter xvi. the last flickering camp fire dies out. "ithere's the outpost making signals, elmer," said mark, about three o'clock in the afternoon. two of the scouts, who were pretty well up in wigwag work, had been dispatched to a knob part way up the mountain, from which a fine view of the lower lake could be obtained, as well as the zigzag course of the connecting paradise creek. "looks like they must have sighted our scout master, then," declared elmer, as he left what he was engaged in doing to hasten over to where the balance of the signal flags lay. snatching one up he began to wave it in certain eccentric movements which red huggins, who held the book, knew to be a query as to what the outposts or videttes had discovered. "there! he's starting to answer. everybody watch sharp, and write down what you make it!" exclaimed the scout leader. pencils and paper had been made ready, though most of the scouts carried small note books in which they entered such things as they wished to preserve. for some little time they watched each deliberate motion of the distant waving flag, no one saying a word. when finally the sign was given that the message had reached its end, every scout started to scribble at hot speed. then elmer walked along the line, examining the various records. "pretty well done," he said after he had completed his examination, "but of course it was the easiest of tests, for we all felt sure the report would be that they were in sight. they are crossing jupiter lake right now. that means they will be with us inside of an hour and a half, for ginger is rowing stoutly, matty says, and mr. eggleston seems to be getting ready to take the second pair of oars himself for the pull up paradise creek, which you may remember is no cinch, fellows." "that's right," declared larry billings, rubbing his arm, the muscles of which had been more or less sore ever since that strain. "it's going to be a long hour and a half," said jasper merriweather. "oh! rats, just go and play with the monkey, to kill time," laughed lil artha. "i'm just wild to see what ginger does when we take him to meet his 'debble,'" observed toby, who had of course been hovering over that magical balloon pretty much all the morning; indeed, so long as that was around they could hardly get the ambitious amateur aviator to do anything worth while. "somebody coming back yonder; i saw 'em flit past that open place," remarked nat scott, pointing upward. "yes, that's ted and chatz, returning from the lone cabin. they promised to be back early, because they didn't want to miss the fun when ginger came," declared the scout leader. within the next half hour not only did ted and his companion arrive, but the two videttes and signal men reached camp. having discharged the duty to which they had been assigned, matty eggleston and jack armitage had lost no time in heading once more down the mountain. now an hour had gone, and the half was passing slowly. all eyes were turned down the lake to the spot where the creek began, anticipating seeing the boat shoot into view. "hurrah! there they come!" shouted one who had climbed a tree, the better to get the first glimpse of the returning couple. as the boat slipped out on the silvery surface of the lonely lake, so well named solitude, the cheers that arose must have been particularly pleasing to the young man who was devoting so much of his time to the task of trying to make the hickory ridge boy scouts the best troops in the county. but it was ginger who deliberately dropped his oars, to rise to his feet, and with his black hand over his heart, make several salaams. he came near taking a header over the side of the boat in his eagerness to return the compliments which he really believed the boys were meaning for him, at which of course there was an uproarious laugh all around. then came the landing. ty collins made sure that the boat contained a lot of packages, and his eyes shone with pleasure as he saw that one of them bore the unmistakable outlines of a whole ham. "this way, mr. garrabrant, we've got a surprise for you!" laughed elmer. "you come along, too, ginger," called lil artha, "and make the acquaintance of an old friend of yours. he's been fretting like everything because you were so long getting here. diablo, here's ginger coming to shake hands with you!" of course they had heaps of fun watching the look on the face of ginger, as he found himself confronting the hairy thief whom he had seen under such strange conditions, and believed to be a visitor from a warm country where pitchforks are said to be in fashion. but it required considerable urging for ginger to actually take the extended hand of the big monkey. eventually, however, they became quite good friends. ginger was forever supplying the captive with tidbits, and on his part diablo seemed to recognize in the dark-skinned man a boon companion. of course, after they had their little frolic, and the story of diablo's capture had been fully told, the boys were eager to know whether mr. garrabrant had succeeded in turning the two bad men over to the rockaway authorities, also if he had happened to run across any of their folks while in hickory ridge. "make your minds easy, boys," he had replied, laughingly. "jim and bill are safely lodged behind the bars in rockaway jail. i saw colonel hitchens, and he paid me the reward that was offered for their capture, which goes to the troop. later on you boys shall take a vote as to what to do with the money, though i imagine i can give a pretty good guess where it'll go from what i heard you say before about abe and his kiddies." "did you happen to mention the fact that we believed we had his runaway monkey up here as a neighbor, sir?" asked elmer. "i certainly did, and he at once declared that if you could only manage to get hold of that rogue, diablo, it would be another hundred dollars reward," answered the scout master. "hurrah!" cried lil artha, boisterously, "but the honor goes to elmer and mark. they not only did the entire trick, but managed to get a flashlight picture of the monkey going up in the air, with one of his hind legs gripped in the loop of a rope. it's the greatest thing i ever heard about! wait till you see the picture, sir." "but how about hickory ridge, sir; i suppose it's still on the map?" asked elmer, who knew only too well that every fellow was just dying to hear whether the scout master had happened to run across any of their home folks, and what they had said in sending word. "well," replied mr. garrabrant, with a smile and a nod around; "i've got a pleasant surprise for you all. having some time on my hands after i had carried out my little business affairs, i just thought it would be nice if i took my car and ran around to the home of every scout who is in camp here on old solitude!" "bully for you, sir!" "that was mighty fine of you, mr. garrabrant, and did you see my folks, sir?" "three cheers for our scout master, fellows; ain't he all to the good, though?" now, mr. garrabrant knew boys and was not in the least offended by such crude ways of expressing their appreciation. he knew it sprang straight from the heart, and was prouder to have won so lasting a place in their regard than he would have been to take a city. "yes, i saw the folks of every lad, and bear messages that will please you, i am sure," he observed. "here they are, just as they were sent by mothers and fathers. and you may be sure they were delighted to learn how well things were going. they want you to stay your time out, and come back, ruddy and brown, better fitted to take up your school duties when vacation ends." after the packet of little hastily scribbled messages had been distributed, care having been taken by the thoughtful scout master that not a single one might feel neglected, there was a strange silence in camp. undoubtedly several of the boys were rather perilously near the breaking point, as they began to once more experience the grip of that terrible malady--homesickness. but mr. garrabrant knew, and he it was who began to play with the captive monkey, causing more or less sport, that presently had all the boys laughing uproariously. and so the threatened eruption was avoided. when supper time came they had managed to recover their former steadiness of purpose to stick it out to the end. but there was not a single member of the troop who did not treasure that little slip of paper, bearing only a few cheering loving words in a familiar hand, during the rest of the stay in camp. as to what else befell the hickory ridge boy scouts, and particularly those members of the wolf patrol in whom we have had especial interest, time and space will not allow my attempting to narrate here. later on the opportunity will doubtless arise, so that we shall once more make their acquaintance, and accompany them on other fields of outdoor life, where they continue to imbibe the secrets of nature that are calculated to make them better fitted to take care of themselves, and be of service to their fellows. no serious calamity came to pass as the days slipped along. they continued to take toll of the obliging trout that dwelt in lake solitude, long acquainted with the hooks and devices of civilized man. and mr. garrabrant seldom allowed even a single day to pass without endeavoring to foster in his boys the manly spirit all american lads should possess. the day before they expected to break camp a party went over to the cabin of abe morris and brought him back with them, he being so far recovered, thanks to the treatment of the proud amateur physician, dr. ted, that he could limp, with the aid of crutches, and the stout as well as willing arms of the boys to lean upon. of course the manly boy, felix, and the useful maiden, little lou, came along, for the hut was being abandoned forever. they had places in the boats when the camp was left behind. the wagon as well as a carriage awaited them at exactly the same place where had burned the first camp fire of the expedition, this latter being for the use of abe and his "kiddies," and the clumsier vehicle for the camp luggage. as for the scouts themselves they scorned such a means of travel. browned and healthy, they felt able to walk twice the seven miles that lay between the sweetwater and hickory ridge. and besides, were they not headed for _home_, with all that that implied in their enthusiastic boyish hearts? we could not, even if we would lift the veil, betray the emotion some of the valiant scouts exhibited when clasped again in the loving arms of a mother or a father. but everybody declared that the change in the boys was wonderful, and that they really seemed to have taken a great step forward in the journey toward manliness. jasper merriweather in particular hardly seemed like the same weak, timid boy. he had drawn in a big breath of "outdoors," and glimpsed the goal toward which he was now determined to set his course. and in hickory ridge that night, there was a consensus of opinion to the effect that the boy scout movement was by long odds the best thing that had ever happened to quicken the better element lying dormant in every growing lad. abe morris was easily placed in a paying position, and the boys never lost their interest in the boy felix and little lou. just as they had declared, the rewards coming to them for having effected the capture of the two bad men, as well as the runaway monkey valued so highly by colonel hitchens, were paid over to abe, and went toward starting the little morris family in a cottage of their own within the limits of the town of hickory ridge. doubtless the thoughts of those lads would many times go out to the camp fires which had marked their first outing after organizing. and as they looked over the numerous fine pictures mark had secured, they would live again the days when they experienced the strenuous life under canvas. the end. the alger books by horatio alger, jr. "the two-in-one edition" a new edition, × ¼ inches, bulk one inch, pages, from new plates, with new illustrations, two titles or stories to each volume, sewed, cloth bindings, with picture covers in colors, in several designs. the two titles or stories contained in one volume gives more reading matter and better value for the price than has been offered heretofore in cloth-bound alger books. the following volumes, each containing the two stories as listed, are ready to deliver: vol. --"strong and steady" and "strive and succeed" vol. --"bound to rise" and "risen from the ranks" vol. --"jack's ward" and "shifting for himself" vol. --"paul the peddler" and "phil the fiddler" vol. --"slow and sure" and "julius the street boy" vol. --"facing the world" and "harry vane" vol. --"the young outlaw" and "sam's chance" vol. --"wait and hope" and "tony the tramp" vol. --"herbert carter's legacy" and "do and dare" vol. --"luke walton" and "a cousin's conspiracy" vol. --"try and trust" and "brave and bold" vol. --"andy gordon" and "bob burton" vol. --"the young adventurer" and "the young salesman" vol. --"making his way" and "sink or swim" vol. --"mark mason's triumph" and "joe's luck" vol. --"the telegraph boy" and "the cash boy" vol. --"struggling upward" and "hector's inheritance" vol. --"only an irish boy" and "tom the bootblack" list price twenty-five cents a volume more alger books are sold and they are more popular than any other boys' books. their high moral character, clean, manly tone and the wholesome lessons they teach without being goody-goody, make alger books as acceptable to the parents as to the boys. the tendency of alger stories is to the formation of an honorable, manly character. they convey lessons of pluck, perseverance and self-reliance. the new york book company publishers, fourth avenue, new york, n.y. won in the ninth _a story about baseball_ by "christy" mathewson (famous pitcher of the new york national league baseball team) (copyrighted, , by the r. j. bodmer co.) the characters are college boys in everything but their ability to play baseball. each represents one of the leading players who are now playing in the american and national leagues with names slightly changed, but the reader will soon discover that he is reading the early exploits of one of his baseball favorites. the whole range of interesting features about a ball team and the game itself is covered in successive chapters. one of them contains the secrets of what is known as "inside baseball" and "signal work" with illustrations showing how to do it. through the twenty chapters are interwoven many of the stories of actual plays, famous catches, thrilling episodes of games, tricks pulled off and some that did not work, which have come within the author's experience. a good story of college life runs through the book. the hero gets into trouble and his friends get him out in the usual strenuous style of college life stories. it is a live book about baseball, with live characters, and written by the one man who knows more about the men who are playing it to-day and the methods by which games are won than anyone else in the sport. "editor's note--the daily news makes no apology for placing in this position of honor on the first page the opening chapters of a serial story dealing with baseball events and baseball heroes. "the daily news believes in clean athletic sports, believes in encouraging them and in keeping them clean. baseball is the national game. it is not only the most popular sport in the united states, but it is national in the sense that it expresses the ingenuity, the energy and the agility of the typical american. viewed in this light, baseball possesses a dignity of its own and an entertaining and informing piece of literary work about it cannot be trivial. what is elevating, what is interesting, and what is dignified cannot but make a strong appeal to the appreciation of every reader."--_=the chicago news, march , .=_ "the best baseball story ever written."--_=the evening world, new york, n. y., march , .=_ "i have read won in the ninth with much interest and it has been very entertaining."--_=charles w. murphy, president chicago national league baseball club, chicago, april , .=_ "won in the ninth is a great book, and one that every lover of the game should read."--_=charles a. comiskey, president chicago white sox american league baseball club, chicago, april , .=_ _=size full mo, pages. illustrated by felix mahoney. cloth binding. gilt back. price, cts. net. full discounts to the trade.=_ the new york book company publishers, fourth avenue new york, n. y. our young folks illustrated books (cloth-bound, sewed books) retail price, fifteen cents a copy this series contains those books for young folks that are without question conceded to be the most popular of this class. each title has a distinctive cover design in colors, and in addition to being equal to the new york book company's other cloth-bound books each volume contains twenty to sixty illustrations. _the following books are ready to deliver:_ =pilgrim's progress= =robinson crusoe= =alice in wonderland= =through the looking glass= =black beauty= =rip van winkle= =mother goose= =wood's natural history= =lives of the presidents= =arabian nights= =andersen's fairy tales= =story of the bible= ask for the new york book company's young folks illustrated books the new york book company publishers, fourth avenue new york, n. y. the oliver optic books retail price, fifteen cents a copy every boy and girl knows the oliver optic books, and the new york book company's edition is the lowest priced cloth-bound edition. it is better in many ways than some of the higher priced editions. the covers are stamped in colors, in different and attractive designs. frontispiece; decorated lining papers and title page; size, five by seven and a quarter inches. _the following books are ready to deliver:_ =the boat club= =all aboard= =little by little= =now or never= =poor and proud= =try again= =fighting joe= =haste and waste= =hope and have= =in school and out= =rich and humble= =work and win= ask for the new york book company's oliver optic books the new york book company publishers, fourth avenue new york, n.y. novels worth reading retail price, ten cents a copy magazine size, paper-covered novels. covers printed in attractive colors. list of titles contains the very best sellers of popular fiction. printed from new plates; type clear, clean and readable. _the following books are ready to deliver:_ =treasure island= =by robert louis stevenson= =king solomon's mines= =" h. rider haggard= =meadow brook= =" mary j. holmes= =old mam'selle's secret= =" e. marlitt= =by woman's wit= =" mrs. alexander= =tempest and sunshine= =" mary j. holmes= _other titles in preparation_ children's color books retail price, fifteen cents a copy books for children that are not only picture books but play books. beautifully printed in four colors. books that children can cut out, paint or puzzle over. more entertaining than the most expensive toys. _the following books are ready to deliver:_ =the painting book--post cards= =the scissors book--our army= =the scissors book--dolls of all nations= =the puzzle book--children's pets= _others in preparation_ ask for the new york book company's novels worth reading and children's color books sold by dealers everywhere the new york book company publishers, fourth avenue new york, n.y. our girls books by famous writers "the two-in-one edition" a new series, containing the best stories of the most popular writers. size × ¼ inches; bulk one inch; pages and a frontispiece in colors; printed from new plates, sewed, cloth bindings, gilt back, with decorated inlaid covers in colors. each of the following volumes, which are now ready to deliver, contains the two complete books, of which the titles are given in the list, as they were written by the authors, without condensation or abridgment. the following volumes, each containing the two stories as listed, are ready to deliver: vol. --"wild kitty" and "a girl from america," both by mrs. l. t. meade vol. --"daddy's girl" and "a world of girls," both by mrs. l. t. meade vol. --"sue, a little heroine" and "polly, a new-fashioned girl," both by mrs. l. t. meade vol. --"the school queens" and "a sweet girl graduate," both by mrs. l. t. meade vol. --"faith gartney's girlhood," by mrs. a. d. t. whitney, and "the princess of the revels," by mrs. l. t. meade vol. --"grimm's tales," by the brothers grimm, and "fairy tales and legends," by charles perrault list price thirty cents a volume the lowest price for any single title or story in the above list in any other cloth-bound edition is double our price. the two titles or stories contained in each volume gives more reading matter and better value for the price than has been offered heretofore in cloth-bound books for girls. the new york book company publishers, fourth avenue, new york. n.y. the famous fiction by great novelists "the two-in-one edition" a new series of novels, containing the great books of the greatest novelists, with either two novels in one volume, or, in the case of some of the very long novels, two volumes combined in one volume. size × ¼ inches, bulk one inch, pages, from new plates, sewed, cloth bindings, with decorated covers in colors and other attractive features. the following volumes, each containing the two stories as listed, are ready to deliver: vol. --"aikenside" and "dora deane," both by mary j. holmes vol. --"lena rivers," by mary j. holmes, and "ten nights in a bar room," by t. s. arthur vol. --"beulah" and "inez," both by augusta j. evans vol. --"the baronet's bride" and "who wins," both by may agnes fleming vol. --"staunch as a woman" and "led by love," both by charles garvice vol. --"cast up by the tide," by dora delmar, and "golden gates," by bertha m. clay vol. --"faith gartney's girlhood," by mrs. a. d. t. whitney, and "daddy's girl," by mrs. l. t. meade vol. --"soldiers three" and "the light that failed," both by rudyard kipling vol. --"the rifle rangers," by mayne reid, and "two years before the mast," by r. h. dana vol. --"great expectations," vol. and vol. , by charles dickens vol. --"ishmael," vol. and vol. , by mrs. southworth vol. --"self-raised," vol. and vol. , by mrs. southworth. list price twenty-five cents a volume the two titles or stories contained in one volume gives more reading matter and better value for the price than has been offered heretofore in cloth-bound fiction books. the new york book company publishers, fourth avenue, new york, n.y. _primrose edition_ _economical cooking_ _planned for two or more persons_ by miss winifred s. gibbs dietitian and teacher of cooking for the new york association for improving the conditions of the poor many cook books have been published, from time to time, to meet various requirements, or to elucidate certain theories, but very few have been written to meet the needs of the large proportion of our population who are acutely affected by the constantly increasing cost of food products. notwithstanding that by its valuable suggestions this book helps to reduce the expense of supplying the table, the recipes are so planned that the economies effected thereby are not offset by any lessening in the attractiveness, variety or palatability of the dishes. of equal importance are the sections of this work which deal with food values, the treatment of infants and invalids and the proper service of various dishes. the recipes are planned for two persons, but may readily be adapted for a large number. the book is replete with illustrations and tables of food compositions--the latter taken from the latest government statistics. _cloth binding_ _illustrated_ _ c. per volume_ the new york book company fourth avenue (near th st.) new york * * * * * transcriber's note: obvious punctuation errors were corrected. first advertising page, "campfires" changed to "camp fires" to match actual name of book. (camp fires of the wolf patrol) first advertising page, "chenoweth" changed to "chenowith" to match actual book usage (elmer chenowith, a lad from) page , "presenty" changed to "presently" (and when presently) the boy scout aviators by george durston chapter i serious news "as long as i can't be at home," said harry fleming, "i'd rather be here than anywhere in the world i can think of!" "rather!" said his companion, dick mercer. "i say, harry, it must be funny to be an american!" harry laughed heartily. "i'd be angry, dick," he said, finally, "if that wasn't so english--and so funny! still, i suppose that's one reason you britishers are as big an empire as you are. you think it's sort of funny and a bit of a misfortune, don't you, to be anything but english?" "oh, i say, i didn't quite mean that," said dick, flushing a little. "and of course you americans aren't just like foreigners. you speak the same language we do--though you do say some funny things now and then, old chap. you know, i was ever so surprised when you came to mr. grenfel and he let you in our troop right away!" "didn't you even know we had boy scouts in america?" asked harry. "my word as you english would say. that is the limit! why, it's spread all over the country with us. but of course we all know that it started here--that baden-powell thought of the idea!" "rather!" said dick, enthusiastically. "good old bathing-towel! that's what they used to call him at school, you know, before he ever went into the army at all. and it stuck to him, they say, right through. even after mafeking he was called that. now, of course, he's a lieutenant general, and all sorts of a swell. he and kitchener and french are so big they don't get called nicknames much more." "well, i'll tell you what i think," said harry, soberly. "i think he did a bigger thing for england when he started the boy scout movement than when he defended mafeking against the boers!" "why, how can you make that out?" asked dick, puzzled. "the defence of mafeking had a whole lot to do with our winning that war!" "that's all right, too," said harry. "but you know you may be in a bigger war yet than that boer war ever thought of being." "how can a war think, you chump?" asked the literal-minded dick. again harry roared at him. "that's just one of our funny american ways of saying things, dick," he explained. "i didn't mean that, of course. but what i do mean is that every-one over here in europe seems to think that there will be a big war sometime--a bigger war than the world's ever seen yet." "oh, yes!" dick nodded his understanding, and grew more serious. "my pater--he's a v. c., you know--says that, too. he says we'll have to fight germany, sooner or later. and he seems to think the sooner the better, too, before they get too big and strong for us to have an easy time with them." "they're too big now for any nation to have an easy time with them," said harry. "but you see what i mean now, don't you, dick? we boy scouts aren't soldiers in any way. but we do learn to do the things a soldier has to do, don't we?" "yes, that's true," said dick. "but we aren't supposed to think of that." "of course not, and it's right, too," agreed harry. "but we learn to be obedient. we learn discipline. and we get to understand camp life, and the open air, and all the things a soldier has to know about, sooner or later. suppose you were organizing a regiment. which would you rather have--a thousand men who were brave and willing, but had never camped out, or a thousand who had been boy scouts and knew about half the things soldiers have to learn? which thousand men would be ready to go to the front first?" "i never thought of that!" said dick, mightily impressed. "but you're right, harry. the boy scouts wouldn't go to war themselves, but the fellows who were grown up and in business and had been boy scouts would be a lot readier than the others, wouldn't they? i suppose that's why so many of our chaps join the territorials when they are through school and start in business?" "of course it is! you've got the idea i'm driving at, dick. and you can depend on it that general baden-powell had that in his mind's eye all the time, too. he doesn't want us to be military and aggressive, but he does want the empire to have a lot of fellows on call who are hard and fit, so that they can defend themselves and the country. you see, in america, and here in england, too, we're not like the countries on the continent. we don't make soldiers of every man in the country." "no--by jove, they do that, don't they, harry? i've got a, cousin who's french. and he expects to serve his term in the army. he's in the class of . you see, he knows already when he will have to go, and just where he will report--almost the regiment he'll join. but he's hoping they'll let him be in the cavalry, instead of the infantry or the artillery." "there you are! here and in america, we don't have to have such tremendous armies, because we haven't got countries that we may have to fight across the street--you know what i mean. england has to have a tremendous navy, but that makes it unnecessary for her to have such a big army." "i see you've got the idea exactly, fleming," said a new voice, breaking into the conversation. the two scouts looked up to see the smiling face of their scoutmaster, john grenfel. he was a big, bronzed englishman, sturdy and typical of the fine class to which he belonged--public school and university man, first-class cricketer and a football international who had helped to win many a hard fought game for england from wales or scotland or ireland. the scouts were returning from a picnic on wimbledon common, in the suburbs of london, and grenfel was following his usual custom of dropping into step now with one group, now with another. he favored the idea of splitting up into groups of two or three on the homeward way, because it was his idea that one of the great functions of the scout movement was to foster enduring friendships among the boys. he liked to know, without listening or trying to overhear, what the boys talked about; often he would give a directing word or two, that, without his purpose becoming apparent, shaped the ideas of the boys. "yes," he repeated. "you understand what we're trying to do in this country, fleming. we don't want to fight--we pray to god that we shall never have to. but, if we are attacked, or if the necessity arises, we'll be ready, as we have been ready before. we want peace--we want it so much and so earnestly that we'll fight for it if we must." neither of the boys laughed at what sounded like a paradox. his voice was too earnest. "do you think england is likely to have to go to war soon--within a year or so, sir?" asked harry. "i pray not," said grenfel. "but we don't know, fleming. for the last few years--ever since the trouble in the balkans finally flamed up--europe has been on the brink of a volcano. we don't know what the next day may bring forth. i've been afraid--" he stopped, suddenly, and seemed to consider. "there is danger now," he said, gravely. "since the archduke franz ferdinand of austria was assassinated, austria has been in an ugly mood. she has tried to blame servia. i don't think russia will let her crush servia--not a second time. and if russia and austria fight there is no telling how it may spread." "you'd want us to win, wouldn't you, harry, if we fought?" asked dick, when mr. grenfel had passed on to speak to some of the others. "yes, i think i would--i know i would, dick," said harry, gravely. "but i wouldn't want to see a war, just the same. it's a terrible thing." "on, it wouldn't last long," said dick, confidently. "we'd lick them in no time at all. don't you think so?" "i don't know--i hope so. but you can't ever be sure." "i wonder if they'd let us fight?" "no, i don't think they would, dick. there'd be plenty for the boy scouts to do though, i believe." "would you stay over here if there was a war, harry? or would you go home?" "i think we'd have to stay over here, dick. you see, my father is here on business, not just for pleasure. his company sent him over here, and it was understood he'd stay several years. i don't think the war could make any difference." "that's why you're here, then, is it? i used to wonder why you went to school over here instead of in america." "yes. my father and mother didn't want me to be so far from them. so they brought me along. i was awfully sorry at first, but now it doesn't seem so bad." "i should think not!" said dick, indignantly. "i should think anyone would be mighty glad of a chance to come to school over here instead of in america! why, you don't even play cricket over there, i've been told!" "no, but we play baseball," said harry, his eyes shining. "i really think i miss that more than anything else here in england. cricket's all right--if you can't play baseball. it's a good enough game." "you can play," admitted dick, rather grudgingly. "when you bowl, you've got some queer way of making the ball seem to bend--" "i put a curve on it, that's all!" said harry, with a laugh. "if you'd ever played baseball, you'd understand that easily enough. see? you hold the ball like this--so that your fingers give it a spin as it leaves your hand." and he demonstrated for his english friend's benefit the way the ball is held to produce an out-curve. "your bowlers here don't seem to do that--though they do make the ball break after it hits the ground. but the way i manage it, you see, is to throw a ball that doesn't hit the ground in front of the bat at all, but curves in. if you don't hit at it, it will hit the stumps and bowl you out; if you do hit, you're likely to send it straight up in the air, so that some fielder can catch it." "i see," said dick. "well, i suppose it's all right, but it doesn't seem quite fair." harry laughed, but didn't try to explain the point further. he liked dick immensely; dick was the first friend he had made in england, and the best, so far. it was dick who had tried to get him to join the boy scouts, and who had been immensely surprised to find that harry was already a scout. harry, indeed, had done two years of scouting in america; he had been one of the first members of a troop in his home town, and had won a number of merit badges. he was a first-class scout, and, had he stayed with his troop, would certainly have become a patrol leader. so he had had no trouble in getting admission to the patrol to which dick belonged. it had been hard for harry, when his father's business called him to england, to give up a all the friendships and associations of his boyhood. had been hard to leave school; to tear up, by the roots, all the things that bound him to his home. but as a scout he had learned to be loyal and obedient. his parents had talked things over with him very frankly. they had understood just how hard it would be for him to go with them. but his father had made him see how necessary it was. "i want you to be near your mother and myself just now, especially, harry," he had said. "i want you to grow up where i can see you. and, more-over, it won't hurt you a bit to know something about other countries. you'll have a new idea of america when you have seen other lands, and i believe you'll be a better american for it. you'll learn that other countries have their virtues, and that we can learn some things from them. but i believe you'll learn, too, to love america better than ever. when we go home you'll be broader and better for your experience." and harry was finding out that his father had been right. at first he had to put up with a good deal. he found that the english boys he met in school felt themselves a little superior. they didn't look down on him, exactly, but they were, perhaps the least bit sorry for him because he was not an englishman, always a real misfortune in their sight. he had resented that at first. but his boy scout training stood him in good stead. he kept his temper, and it was not long before he began to make friends. he excelled at games; even the english games that were new and strange to him presented few difficulties to him. as he had explained to dick, cricket was easy for any boy who could play baseball fairly well. and it was the same way with football. after the far more strenuous american game, he shone at the milder english football, the rugby game, which is the direct ancestor of the sport in america. all these things helped to make harry popular. he was now nearly sixteen, tall and strong for his age, thanks to the outdoor life he had always lived. an only son, he and his father had always been good friends. without being in any way a molly-coddle, still he had been kept safe from a good many of the temptations that beset some boys by the constant association with his father. it was no wonder, therefore, that john grenfel, as soon as he had talked with harry and learned of the credentials he bore from his home troop, had welcomed him enthusiastically as a recruit to his own troop. it had been necessary to modify certain rules. harry, of course, could not subscribe to quite the same scout oath that bound his english fellows. but he had taken his scout oath as a tenderfoot at home, and grenfel had no doubts about him. he was the sort of boy the organization wanted, whether in england or america, and that was enough for grenfel. though the boys, as they walked toward their homes, did not quite realize it, they were living in days that were big with fate. far away, in the chancelleries of europe, and, not so far away, in the big government buildings in the west end of london, the statesmen were even then making their best effort to avert war. no one in england, perhaps, really believed that war was coming. there had been war scares before. but the peace of europe had been preserved for forty years or more, through one crisis after another. and so it was a stunning surprise, even to grenfel, when, as they came into putney high street, just before they reached putney bridge, they met a swam of newsboys excitedly shrieking extras. "germany threatens russia!" they yelled. "war sure!" mr. grenfel brought a paper, and the scouts gathered about him while he read the news that was contained on the front page, still damp from the press. "i'm afraid it's true," he said, soberly. "the german emperor has threatened to go to war with russia, unless the czar stops mobilizing his troops at once. we shall know tonight. but i think it means war! god save england may still keep out of it!" for that night a meeting at mr. grenfel's home in west kensington had long been planned. he lived not far from the street in which both harry and dick lived. and, as the party broke up, on the other side of putney bridge, dick, voicing the general feeling, asked a question. "are we to come tonight, sir?" he said. "with this news--?" "yes--yes, indeed," said the scoutmaster. "if war is to come, there is all the more reason for us to be together. england may need all of us yet." dick had asked the question because, like all the others, he felt something that was in the air. he was sobered by the news, although, like the rest, he did not yet fully understand it. but they all felt that there had been a change. as they looked about at the familiar sight about them they wondered if, a year from then, everything would still be the same. war? what did it mean to them, to england? "i wonder if my father will go to war!" dick broke out suddenly, as he and harry walked along. "i hadn't thought of that!" said harry, startled. "oh, dick, i'm sorry! still, i suppose he'll go, if his country needs him!" chapter ii quick work at home, harry had an early dinner with his father and mother, who were going to the theatre. they lived in a comfortable house, which mr. fleming had taken on a five-year lease when they came to england to live. it was one of a row of houses that looked very much alike, which, itself, was one of four sides of a square. in the centre of the square was a park-like space, a garden, really. in this garden were several tennis courts, with plenty of space, also, for nurses and children. there are many such squares in london, and they help to make the british capital a delightful place in which to live. as he went in, harry saw a lot of the younger men who lived in the square playing tennis. it was still broad daylight, although, at home, dusk would have fallen. but this was england at the end of july and the beginning of august, and the light of day would hold until ten o'clock or thereabout. that was one of the things that had helped to reconcile harry to living in england. he loved the long evenings and the chance they gave to get plenty of sport and exercise after school hours. the school that he and dick attended was not far away; they went to it each day. a great many of the boys boarded at the school, but there were plenty who, like dick and harry, did not. but school was over now, for the time. the summer holidays had just begun. at the table there was much talk of the war that was in the air. but mr. fleming did not even yet believe that war was sure. "they'll patch it up," he said, confidently. "they can't be so mad as to set the whole world ablaze over a little scrap like the trouble between austria and servia." "would it affect your business, dear?" asked mrs. fleming. "if there really should be war, i mean?" "i don't think so," said he. "i might have to make a flying trip home, but i'd be back. come on--time for us to go. what are you going to do, boy? going over to grenfel's, aren't you?" "yes, father," said harry. "all right. get home early. good-night!" a good many of the boys were already there when dick and harry reached grenfel's house. the troop--the forty-second, of london--was a comparatively small one, having only three patrols. but nearly all of them were present, and the scout-master took them out into his garden. "i'm going to change the order a bit," he said, gravely. "i want to do some talking, and then i expect to answer questions. boys, germany has declared war on russia. there are reports already of fighting on the border between france and germany. and there seems to be an idea that the germans are certain to strike at france through belgium. i may not be here very long--i may have to turn over the troop to another scoutmaster. so i want to have a long talk tonight." there was a dismayed chorus. "what? you going away, sir? why?" but harry did not join. he saw the quiet blaze in john grenfel's eyes, and he thought he knew. "i've volunteered for foreign service already," grenfel explained. "i saw a little fighting in the boer war, you know. and i may be useful. so i thought i'd get my application in directly. if i go, i'll probably go quietly and quickly. and there may be no other chance for me to say good-bye." 'then you think england will be drawn in, sir?" asked leslie franklin, leader of the patrol to which dick and harry belonged, the royal blues. "i'm afraid so," said grenfels grimly. "there's just a chance still, but that's all--the ghost of a chance, you might call it. i think it might be as well if i explained a little of what's back of all this trouble. want to listen? if you do, i'll try. and if i'm not making myself clear, ask all the questions you like." there was a chorus of assent. grenfel sat in the middle, the scouts ranged about him in a circle. "in the first place," he began, "this servian business is only an excuse. i'm not defending the servians--i'm taking no sides between servia and austria. here in england we don't care about that, because we know that if that hadn't started the war, something else would have been found. "england wants peace. and it seems that, every so often, she has to fight for it. it was so when the duke of marlborough won his battles at blenheim and ramillies and malplaquet. then france was the strongest nation in europe. and she tried to crush the others and dominate everything. if she had, she would have been strong enough, after her victories, to fight us over here--to invade england. so we went into that war, more than two hundred years ago, not because we hated france, but to make a real peace possible. and it lasted a long time. "then, after the french revolution, there was napoleon. again france, under him, was the strongest nation in europe. he conquered germany, and austria, italy and spain, the netherlands. and he tried to conquer england, so that france could rule the world. but nelson beat his fleet at trafalgar--" "hurrah!" interrupted dick, carried away. "three cheers for nelson!" grenfel smiled as the cheers were given. "even after trafalgar," he went on, "napoleon hoped to conquer england. he had massed a great army near boulogne, ready to send it across the channel. and so we took the side of the weaker nations again. all europe, led by england, rose against napoleon. and you know what happened. he was beaten finally at waterloo. and so there was peace again in europe for a long time, with no one nation strong enough to dictate to all the others." but then germany began to rise. she beat austria, and that made her the strongest german country. then she beat france, in , and that gave her her start toward being the strongest nation on the continent. "and then, i believe--and so do most englishmen--she began to be jealous of england. she wanted our colonies. she began, finally, to build a great navy. for years we have had to spend great sums of money to keep our fleet stronger than hers. and she made an alliance with austria and italy. because of that france and russia made an alliance, too, and we had to be friendly with them. and now it looks to me as if germany thought she saw a chance to beat france and russia. perhaps she thinks that we won't fight, on account of the trouble in ireland. and what we english fear is that, if she wins, she will take belgium and holland. then she would be so close to our coasts that we would never be safe. we would have to be prepared always for invasion. so, you see, it seems to me that we are facing the same sort of danger we have faced before. only this time it is germany, instead of france, that we shall have to fight--if we do fight." "if the germans go through belgium, will that mean that we shall fight?" asked leslie franklin. "almost certainly, yes," said grenfel. "and it is through belgium that germany has her best chance to strike at france. so you see how serious things are. i don't want to go into all the history that is back of all this. i just want you to understand what england's interest is. if we make war, it will be a war of self-defence. suppose you owned a house. and suppose the house next door caught fire. you would try to put out that fire, wouldn't you, to save your own house from being burned up? well, that's england's position. if the germans held belgium or holland--and they would hold both, if they beat france and russia--england would then be in just as much danger as your house would be. so if we fight, it will be to put out the german fire in the house next door. "now i want you to understand one thing. i'm talking as an englishman. a german would tell you all this in a very different way. i don't like the people who are always slandering their enemies. germany has her reasons for acting as she does. i think her reasons are wrong. but the germans believe that they are right. we can respect even people who are wrong if they themselves believe that they are right. there may be two sides to this quarrel. and germans, even if they are to be our enemies, may be just as patriotic, just as devoted to their country, as we are. never forget that, no matter what may happen." he stopped then, waiting for questions. none came. "then you understand pretty well?" he asked. there was a murmur of assent from the whole circle. "all right, then," he said. "now there's work for scouts to do. be prepared! that's our motto, isn't it? suppose there's war. franklin, what's your idea of what the boy scouts would be able to do?" "i suppose those who are old enough could volunteer, sir," said franklin, doubtfully. "i can't think of anything else--" "time enough for that later," said grenfel, with a short laugh. "england may have to call boys to the colors before she's done, if she once starts to fight. but long before that time comes, there will be a great work for the organization we all love and honor. work that won't be showy, work that will be very hard. boys, everyone in england, man and woman and child will have work to do! and we, who are organized, and whose motto be prepared, ought to be able to show what stuff there is in us. "think of all the places that must be guarded. the waterworks, the gas tanks, the railroads that lead to the seaports and that will be used by the troops." a startled burst of exclamations answered him. "why, there won't be any fighting in england, sir, will there?" asked dick mercer, in surprise. "we all hope not," said grenfel. "but that's not what i mean. it doesn't take an army to destroy a railroad. one man with a bomb and a time fuse attached to it can blow up a culvert and block a whole line so that precious hours might be lost in getting troops aboard a transport. one man could blow up a waterworks or a gas tank or cut an important telegraph or telephone wire!" "you mean that there will be germans here trying to hurt england any way they can, don't you sir? asked harry fleming. "i mean exactly that," said grenfel. "we don't know this--we can't be sure of it. but we've got good reason to believe that there are a great many germans here, seemingly peaceable enough, who are regularly in the pay of the german government as spies. we don't know the german plans. but there is no reason, so far as we know, why their great zeppelin airships shouldn't come sailing over england, to drop bombs down where they can do the most harm. there is nothing except our own vigilance to keep these spies, even if they have to work alone, from doing untold damage!" 'we could be useful as sentries, then?" said leslie franklin. he drew a deep breath. "i never thought of things like that, sir! i'm just beginning to see how useful we really might be. we could do a lot of things instead of soldiers, couldn't we? so that they would be free to go and fight?" "yes," answered the scoutmaster. "and i can tell you now that the national scout council has always planned to 'be prepared!' it decided, a long time ago, what should be done in case of war. a great many troops will be offered to the war department to do odd jobs. they will carry messages and dispatches. they will act as clerks, so far as they can. they will patrol the railways and other places that ought to be under guard, where soldiers can be spared if we take their places. so far as such things can be planned, they have been planned. "but most of the ways in which we can be useful haven't showed themselves, at all yet. they will develop, if war comes. we shall have to be alert and watchful, and do whatever there is to be done ..." "who will be scoutmaster, sir, if you go to the war?" asked harry. "i'm not quite sure," said grenfel. "we haven't decided yet. but it will be someone you can trust--be sure of that. and i think i needn't say that if you scouts have any real regard for me you will show it best by serving as loyally and as faithfully under him as you have under me. i shall be with you in spirit, no matter where i am. now it's, getting late. i think we'd better break up for tonight. we will make a special order, too, for the present. every scout in the troop will report at scout headquarters until further notice, every day, at nine o'clock in the morning. "i think we'll have to make up our minds not to play many games for the time that is coming. there is real work ahead of us if war comes--work just as real and just as hard, in its way, as if we were all going to fight for england. everyone cannot fight, but the ones who stay at home and do the work that comes to their hands will serve england just as loyally as if they were on the firing line. now up, all of you! three cheers for king george!" they were given with a will--and harry fleming joined in as heartily as any of them. he was as much of an american as he had ever been, but something in him responded with a strange thrill to england's need, as grenfel had expressed it. after all, england had been and was the mother country. england and america had fought, in their time, and america had won, but now, for a hundred years, there had been peace between them. and he and these english boys were of the same blood and the same language, binding them very closely together. "blood is thicker than water, after all!" he thought. then every scout there shook hands with john grenfel. he smiled as he greeted them. "i hope this will pass over," he said, "and that we'll do together during this vacation all the things we've planned to do. but if we can't, and if i'm called away, good-bye! do your duty as scouts, and i'll know it somehow! and, in case i don't see you again, good-bye!" "you're going to stand with us, then, fleming?" he said, as harry came up to shake hands. "good boy! we're of one blood, we english and you americans. we've had our quarrels, but relatives always do quarrel. and you'll not be asked, as a scout here, to do anything an american shouldn't do." then it was over. they were out in the street. in the distance newsboys were yelling their extra still. many people were out, something unusual in that quiet neighborhood. and suddenly one of the scouts lifted his voice, and in a moment they were all singing: rule, rule, britannia! britannia rules the waves! britons never, never, never shall be slaves! scores of voices swelled the chorus, joining the fresh young voices of the scouts. and then someone started that swinging march song that had leaped into popularity at the time of the boer war, soldiers of the queen. the words were trifling, but there was a fine swing to the music, and it was not the words that counted--it was the spirit of those who sang. as he marched along with the others harry noticed one thing. in a few hours the whole appearance of the streets had changed. from every house, in the still night air, drooped a union jack. the flag was everywhere; some houses had flung out half a dozen to the wind. harry was seeing a sight, that once seen, can never be forgotten. he was seeing a nation aroused, preparing to fight. if war came to england it would be no war decreed by a few men. it would be a war proclaimed by the people themselves, demanded by them. the nation was stirring; it was casting off the proverbial lethargy and indifference of the english. even here, in this usually quiet suburb of london, the home of business and professional men who were comfortably well off, the stirring of the spirit of england was evident. and suddenly the song of the scouts and those who had joined them was drowned out by a new noise, sinister, threatening. it was the angry note that is raised by a mob. leslie franklin took command at once. "here, we must see what's wrong!" he cried. "scouts, attention! fall in! double quick--follow me!" he ran in the direction of the sound, and they followed. five minutes brought them to the scene of the disturbance. they reached a street of cheaper houses and small shops. about one of these a crowd was surging, made up largely of young men of the lower class, for in west kensington, as in all parts of london, the homes of the rich and of the poor rub one another's elbows in easy familiarity. the crowd seemed to be trying to break in the door of this shop. already all the glass of the show windows had been broken, and from within there came guttural cries of alarm and anger. "it's dutchy's place!" cried dick mercer. "he's a german, and they're trying to smash his place up!" "halt!" cried franklin. he gathered the scouts about him. "this won't do," he said, angry spots of color showing on his cheek bones. "no one's gone for the police--or, if they have, this crowd of muckers will smash everything up and maybe hurt the old dutchman before the bobbies get here. form together now--and when i give the word, go through! once we get between them and the shop, we can stop them. maybe they won't know who we are at first, and our uniforms may stop them." "now!" he said, a moment later. and, with a shout, the scouts charged through the little mob in a body. they had no trouble in getting through. a few determined people, knowing just what they mean to do, can always overcome a greater number of disorganized ones. that is why disciplined troops can conquer five times their number of rioters or savages. and so in a moment they reached the shop. "let us in! we're here to protect you!" cried franklin to old schmidt, who was cowering within, with his wife. then he turned to the rioters, who, getting over their first surprise, were threatening again. "for shame!" he cried. "do you think you're doing anything for england? war's not declared yet--and, if it was, you might better be looking for german soldiers to shoot at than trying to hurt an old man who never did anyone any harm!" there was a threatening noise from the crowd, but franklin was undismayed. "you'll have to get through us to reach them!" he cried. "we--" but he was interrupted. a whistle sounded. the next moment the police were there. chapter iii picked for service the coming of the police cleared the little crowd of would-be rioters away in no time. there were only three or four of the bobbies, but they were plenty. a smiling sergeant came up to franklin. "more of your boy scout work, sir?" he said, pleasantly. "i heard you standing them off! that was very well done. if we can depend on you to help us all over london, we'll have an easier job than we looked for." "we saw a whole lot of those fellows piling up against the shop here," said franklin. "so of course we pitched in. we couldn't let anything like that happen." "there'll be a lot of it at first, i'm afraid, sir," said the sergeant. "still, it won't last. if all we hear is true, they'll be taking a lot of those young fellows away and giving them some real fighting to do to keep them quiet." "well, we'll help whenever we can, sergeant," said franklin. "if the inspector thinks it would be a good thing to have the shops that are kept by germans watched, i'm quite sure it can be arranged. if there's war i suppose a lot of you policemen will go?" "we'll supply our share, sir," said the sergeant. "i'm expecting orders any minute--i'm a reservist myself. coldstream guards, sir." "congratulations!" said franklin. he spoke a little wistfully. "i wonder if they'll let me go? i think i'm old enough! well, can we help any more here tonight?" "no, thank you, sir. you've done very well as it is. pity all the lads don't belong to the boy scouts. we'd have less trouble, i'll warrant. i'll just leave a man here to watch the place. but they won't be back. they don't mean any real harm, as it is. it's just their spirits--and their being a bit thoughtless, you know." "all right," said franklin. "glad we came along. good-night, sergeant. fall in! march!" there was a cheer from the crowd that had gathered to watch the disturbance as the scouts move away. a hundred yards from the scene of what might have been a tragedy, except for their prompt action, the scouts dispersed. dick, mercer and harry fleming naturally enough, since they lived so close to one another, went home together. "that was quick work," said harry. "yes. i'm glad we got there," said dick. "old dutchy's all right-he doesn't seem like a german. but i think it would be a good thing if they did catch a few of the others and scrag them!" "no, it wouldn't," said harry soberly. "don't get to feeling that way, dick. suppose you were living in berlin. you wouldn't want a lot of german roughs to come and destroy your house or your shop and handle you that way, would you?" "it's not the same thing," said dick, stubbornly. "they're foreigners." "but you'd be a foreigner if you were over there!" said harry, with a laugh. "i suppose i would," said dick. "i never thought of that! just the same, i bet mr. grenfel was right. london's full of spies. isn't that an awful idea, harry? you can't tell who's a spy and who isn't!" "no, but you can be pretty sure that the man you suspect isn't," suggested harry, sagely. "a real spy wouldn't let you find it out very easily. i can see one thing and that is a whole lot of perfectly harmless people are going to be arrested as spies before this war is very old, if it does come! we don't want to be mixed up in that, dick--we scouts. if we think a man's doing anything suspicious, we'll have to be very sure before we denounce him, or else we won't be any use." "it's better for a few people to be arrested by mistake than to let a spy keep on spying, isn't it?" "i suppose so, but we don't want to be like the shepherd's boy who used to try to frighten people by calling 'wolf! wolf!' when there wasn't any wolf. you know what happened to him. when a wolf really did come no one believed him. we want to look before we leap." "i suppose you're right, harry. oh, i do hope we can really be of some use! if i can't go to the war, i'd like to think i'd had something to do--that i'd helped when my country needed me!" "if you feel like that you'll be able to help, all right," said harry. "i feel that way, too not that i want to fight. i wouldn't want to do that for any country but my own. but i would like to be able to know that i'd had something to do with all that's going to be done." "i think it's fine for you to be like that," said dick. "i think there isn't so much difference between us, after all, even if you are american and i'm english. well, here we are again. i'll see you in the morning, i suppose?" "right oh! i'll come around for you early. goodnight!" "goodnight!" neither of them really doubted for a moment that war was coming. it was in the air. the attack on the little shop that they had helped to avert was only one of many, although there was no real rioting in london. such scenes were simply the result of excitement, and no great harm was done anywhere. but the tension of which such attacks were the result was everywhere. for the next three days there was very little for anyone to do. everyone was waiting. france and germany were at war; the news came that the germans had invaded luxembourg, and were crossing the belgian border. and then, on tuesday night, came the final news. england had declared war. for the moment the news seemed to stun everyone. it had been expected, and still it came as a surprise. but then london rose to the occasion. there was no hysterical cheering and shouting; everything was quiet. harry fleming saw a wonderful sight a whole people aroused and determined. there was no foolish boasting; no one talked of a british general eating his christmas dinner in berlin. but even dick mercer, excitable and erratic as he had always been, seemed to have undergone a great change. "my father's going to the war," he told harry on wednesday morning. he spoke very seriously. "he was a captain in the boer war, you know, so he knows something about soldiering. he thinks he'll be taken, though he's a little older than most of the men who'll go. he'll be an officer, of course. and he says i've got to look after the mater when he's gone." "you can do it, too," said harry, surprised, despite himself, by the change in his chum's manner. "you seem older than i now, dick, and i've always thought you were a kid!" "the pater says we've all got to be men, now," said dick, steadily. "the mater cried a bit when he said he was going--but i think she must have known all the time he was going. because when he told us--we were at the breakfast table--she sort of cried a little, and then she stopped. "i've got everything ready for you,' she said. "and he looked at her, and smiled. 'so you knew i was going?' he asked her. and she nodded her head, and he got up and kissed her. i never saw him do that before he never did that before, when i was looking on," dick concluded seriously. "i hope he'll come back all right, dick," said harry. "it's hard, old chap!" "i wouldn't have him stay home for anything!" said dick, fiercely. "and i will do my share! you see if i don't! i don't care what they want me to do! i'll run errands--i'll sweep out the floors in the war office, so that some man can go to war! i'll do anything!" somehow harry realized in that moment how hard it was going to be to beat a country where even the boys felt like that! the change in the usually thoughtless, light-hearted dick impressed him more than anything else had been able to do with the real meaning of what had come about so suddenly. and he was thankful, too, all at once, that in america the fear and peril of war were so remote. it was glorious, it was thrilling, but it was terrible, too. he wondered how many of the scouts he knew, and how many of those in school would lose their fathers or their brothers in this war that was beginning. truly, there is no argument for peace that can compare with war itself! yet how slowly we learn! grenfel had gone, and the troop was now in charge of a new scoutmaster, francis wharton. mr. wharton was a somewhat older man. at first sight he didn't look at all like the man to lead a group of scouts, but that, as it turned out, was due to physical infirmities. one foot had been amputated at the time of the boer war, in which he had served with grenfel. as a result he was incapacitated from active service, although, as the scouts soon learned, he had begged to be allowed to go in spite of it. he appeared at the scout headquarters, the pavilion of a small local cricket club, on wednesday morning. "i don't know much about this--more shame to me," he said, cheerfully, standing up to address the boys. "but i think we can make a go of it--think we'll be able to do something for the empire, boys. my old friend john grenfel told me a little; he said you'd pull me through. these are war times and you'll have to do for me what many a company in the army does for a young officer." they gave him a hearty cheer that was a promise in itself. "i can tell you i felt pretty bad when i found they wouldn't let me go to the front," he went on. "it seemed hard to have to sit back and read the newspapers when i knew i ought to be doing some of the work. but then grenfel told me about you boys, and what you meant to do, and i felt better. i saw that there was a chance for me to help, after all. so here i am. these are times when ordinary routine doesn't matter so much you can understand that. grenfel put the troop at the disposal of the commander at ealing. and his first request was that i should send two scouts to him at once. franklin, i believe you are the senior patrol leader? yes? then i shall appoint you assistant scoutmaster, as mr. greene has not returned from his holiday in france. will you suggest the names of two scouts for this service?" franklin immediately went up to the new scoutmaster, and they spoke together quietly, while a buzz of excited talk rose among the scouts. who would be honored by the first chance? every scout there wanted to hear his name called. "i think they'll take me, for one," said ernest graves. he was one of the patrol to which both harry fleming and dick mercer belonged, and the biggest and oldest scout of the troop, except for leslie franklin. he had felt for some time that he should be a patrol leader. although he excelled in games, and was unquestionably a splendid scout, graves was not popular, for some reason, among his fellows. he was not exactly unpopular, either; but there was a little resentment at his habit of pushing himself forward. "i don't see why you should go more than anyone else, graves," said young mercer. "i think they'd take the ones who are quickest. we're probably wanted for messenger work." "well, i'm the oldest. i ought to have first chance," said graves. but the discussion was ended abruptly. "fleming! mercer!" called mr. wharton. they stepped forward, their hands raised in the scout salute, awaiting the scoutmaster's orders. "you will proceed at once, by rail, to ealing," he said. "there you will report at the barracks, handing this note to the officer of the guard. he will then conduct you to the adjutant or the officer in command, from whom you will take your orders." "yes, sir," said both scouts. their eyes were afire with enthusiasm. but as they passed toward the door, dick mercer's quick ears caught a sullen murmur from graves. "he's making a fine start," he heard him say to fatty wells, who was a great admirer of his. "picking out an american! why, we're not even sure that he'll be loyal! did you ever hear of such a thing?" "you shut up!" cried dick, fiercely, turning on graves. "he's as loyal as anyone else! we know as much about him as we do about you, anyhow--or more! you may be big, but when we get back i'll make you take that back or fight--" "come on," said harry, pulling dick along with him. "you mustn't start quarreling now--it's time for all of us to stand together, dick. i don't care what he says, anyhow." he managed to get his fiery chum outside, and they hurried along, at the scout pace, running and walking alternately, toward the west kensington station of the underground railway. they were in their khaki scout uniforms, and several people turned to smile admiringly at them. the newspapers had already announced that the boy scouts had turned out unanimously to do whatever service they could, and it was a time when women--and it was mostly women who were in the streets--were disposed to display their admiration of those who were working for the country very freely. they had little to say to one another as they hurried along; their pace was such as to make it wise for them to save their breath. but when they reached the station they found they had some minutes to wait for a train, and they sat down on the platform to get their breath. they had already had one proof of the difference made by a state of war. harry stopped at the ticket window. "two-third class--for ealing," he said, putting down the money. but the agent only smiled, having seen their uniforms. "on the public service?" he questioned. "yes," said harry, rather proudly. "then you don't need tickets," said the agent. "got my orders this morning. no one in uniform has to pay. go right through, and ride first-class, if you like. you'll find plenty of officers riding that way." "that's fine!" said dick. "it makes it seem as if we were really of some use, doesn't it, harry?" "yes," answered harry. "but, dick, i've been thinking of what you said to graves. what did you mean when you told him you knew more about me than you did about him? hasn't he lived here a long time?" "no, and there's a little mystery about him. don't you know it?" "never heard of such a thing, dick. you see, i haven't been here so very long and he was in the patrol when i joined." "oh, yes, so he was! well, i'll tell you, then. you know he's studying to be an engineer, at the polytechnic. and he lives at a boarding house, all by himself. not a regular boarding house, exactly. he boards with mrs. johnson, you know. her husband died a year or two ago, and didn't leave her very much money. he hasn't any father or mother, but he always seems to have plenty of money. and he can play all sorts of games, but he won't do them up right. he says he doesn't care anything about cricket!" "how old is he?" "sixteen, but he's awfully big and strong." "he certainly is. he looks older than that, to me. have you ever noticed anything funny about the way he talks?" "no. why? have you?" "i'm not sure. but sometimes it seems to me he talks more like the people do in a book than you and i do. i wonder why he doesn't like me?" pondered harry. "oh, he likes you as well as he does anyone, harry. he didn't mean anything, i fancy, when he said that about your being chosen just now. he was squiffed because mr. wharton didn't take him, that's all. he thinks he ought to be ahead of everyone." "well, i didn't ask to be chosen. i'm glad i was, of course, but i didn't expect to be. i think perhaps leslie franklin asked mr. wharton to take me." "of course he did! why shouldn't he?" just then the coming of the train cut them short. from almost every window men in uniform looked out. a few of the soldiers laughed at their scout garb, but most of them only smiled gravely, and as if they were well pleased. the two scouts made for the nearest compartment, and found, when they were in it, that it was a first-class carriage, already containing two young officers who were smoking and chatting together. "hullo, young 'uns!" said one of the officers. "off to the war?" they both laughed, which harry rather resented. "we're under orders, sir," he said, politely. "but, of course, they won't let us scouts go to the war." "don't rag them, cecil," said the other officer. "they're just the sort we need. going to ealing, boys?" harry checked dick's impulsive answer with a quick snatch at his elbow. he looked his questioner straight in the eye. "we weren't told to answer any questions, sir," he said. both the officers roared with laughter, but they sobered quickly, and the one who had asked the question flushed a little. "i beg your pardon, my boy," he said. "the question is withdrawn. you're perfectly right--and you're setting us an example by taking things seriously. this war isn't going to be a lark. but you can tell me a few things. you're scouts, i see. i was myself, once--before i went to sandhurst. what troop and patrol?" dick told him, and the officer nodded. "good work!" he said. "the scouts are going to turn out and help, he? that's splendid! there'll be work enough to go all around, never you fear." "if, by any chance, you should be going to ealing barracks," said the first officer, rather shyly, "and we should get off the train when you do, there's no reason why you shouldn't let us drive you out, is there? we're going there, and i don't mind telling you that we've just finished a two hour leave to go and say good-bye to--to--" his voice broke a little at that. in spite of his light-hearted manner and his rather chaffing tone, he couldn't help remembering that good-bye. he was going to face whatever fate might come, but thoughts of those he might not see again could not be prevented from obtruding themselves. "shut up, cecil," said the other. "we've said good-bye--that's the end of it! we've got other things to think of now. here we are!" the train pulled into ealing station. here the evidences of war and the warlike preparations were everywhere. the platforms were full of soldiers, laughing, jostling one another, saluting the officers who passed among them. and harry, as he and dick followed the officers toward the gate, saw one curious thing. a sentry stood by the railway official who was taking up tickets, and two or three times he stopped and questioned civilian passengers. two of these, moreover, he ordered into the ticket office, where, as he went by, harry saw an officer, seated at a desk, examining civilians. ealing, as a place where many troops were quartered, was plainly very much under martial law. and outside the station it was even more military. soldiers were all about and automobiles were racing around, too. and there were many women and children here, to bid farewell to the soldiers who were going--where? no one knew. that was the mystery of the morning. everyone understood that the troops were off; that they had their orders. but not even the officers themselves knew where, it seemed. "here we are--here's a car!" said the officer called cecil. "jump aboard, young 'uns! we know where you're going, right enough. might as well save some time." and so in a few minutes they reached the great barracks. here the bustle that had been so marked about the station was absent. all was quiet. they were challenged by a sentry and harry asked for the officer of the guard. when he came he handed him wharton's letter. they were told to wait--outside. and then, in a few minutes, the officer returned, passed them through, and turned them over to an orderly, who took them to the room where colonel throckmorton, who was seemingly in charge of important affairs, received them. he returned their salute, then bent a rather stern gaze upon them before he spoke. chapter iv the house of the heliograph "you know your way about london?" he asked. "yes, sir," said harry. "i shall have messages for you to carry," said the colonel, then. "now i want to explain, so that you will understand the importance of this, why you are going to be allowed to do this work. this war has come suddenly--but we are sure that the enemy has expected it for a long time, and has made plans accordingly. "there are certain matters so important, so secret, that we are afraid to trust them to the telephone, the telegraph--even the post, if that were quick enough! in a short time we shall have weeded out all the spies. until then we have to exercise the greatest care. and it has been decided to accept the offer of boy scouts because the spies we feel we must guard against are less likely to suspect boys than men. i am going to give you some dispatches now--what they are is a secret. you take them to major french, at waterloo station." he stopped, apparently expecting them to speak. but neither said anything. "no questions?" he asked, sternly. "n$ --$ sir," said dick. "we're to take the dispatches to major french, at waterloo? that all, is it, sir? and then to come back here?" the colonel nodded approvingly. "yes, that's all," he said. "except for this. waterloo station is closed to all civilians. you will require a word to pass the sentries. no matter what you see, once you are inside, you are not to describe it. you are to tell no one, not even your parent--what you do or what you see. that is all," and he nodded in dismissal. they made their way out and back to the railway station. and dick seemed a little disappointed. "i don't think this is much to be doing!" he grumbled. but harry's eyes were glistening. "don't you see?" he said, lowering his voice so they could not be overheard. "we know something now that probably even a lot of the soldiers don't know! they're mobilizing. if they are going to be sent from waterloo it must mean that they're going to southampton--and that means that they will reach france. that's what we'll see at waterloo station--troops entraining to start the trip to france. they're going to fight over there. everyone is guessing at that--a lot of people thought most of the army would be sent to the east coast. but that can't be so, you see. if it was, they would be starting from king's cross and liverpool street stations, not from waterloo." "oh, i never thought of that!" said dick, brightening. when they got on the train at ealing they were lucky enough to get a compartment to themselves, since at that time more people were coming to ealing than were leaving it. dick began at once to give vent to his wonder. "how many of them do you suppose are going?" he cried. "who will be in command? sir john french, i think. lord kitchener is to be war minister, they say, and stay in london. i bet they whip those bally germans until they don't know where they are--" "steady on!" said harry, smiling, but a little concerned, none the less. "dick, don't talk that! you don't know who may be listening!" "why, harry! no one can hear us--we're alone in the carriage!" "i know, but we don't know who's in the next one or whether they can hear through or not. the wall isn't very thick, you know. we can't be too careful. i don't think anyone knows what we're doing but there isn't any reason why we should take any risk at all." "no, of course not. you're right, harry," said dick, a good deal abashed. "i'll try to keep quiet after this." "i wonder why there are two of us," said dick presently, in a whisper. "i should think one would be enough." "i think we've both got just the same papers to carry," said harry, also in a whisper. "you see, if one of us gets lost, or anything happens to his papers, the other will probably get through all right. at least it looks that way to me." "harry," said dick, after a pause, "i've got an idea. suppose we separate and take different ways to get to waterloo? wouldn't that make it safer? we could meet there and go back to ealing together." "that's a good idea, dick," said harry. he didn't think that their present errand was one of great importance, in spite of what colonel throckmorton had said. he thought it more likely that they were being tried out and tested, so that the colonel might draw his own conclusions as to how far he might safely trust them in the future. but he repressed his inclination to smile at this sudden excess of caution on dick's part. it was a move in the right direction, certainly. "yes, we'll do that," he said. "i'll walk across the bridge, and you can take the tube under the river from the monument." they followed that plan, and met without incident at the station. here more than ever the fact of war was in evidence. a considerable space in and near the station had been roped off and sentries refused to allow any to pass who could not prove that they had a right to do so. the ordinary peaceful vocation of the great terminal was entirely suspended. "anything happen to you?" asked harry with a smile. "i nearly got run over--but that was my own fault." "no, nothing. i saw graves. and he wanted to know what i was doing." "what did you tell him?" "nothing. i said, 'don't you wish you knew?' and he got angry, and said he didn't care." "it wasn't any of his business. you did right," said harry. they had to wait a few moments to see major french, who was exceedingly busy. they need no one to tell them what was going on. at the platform trains were waiting, and, even while they looked on, one after another drew out, loaded with soldiers. the windows were whitewashed, so that, once the doors of the compartments were closed, none could see who was inside. there was no cheering, which seemed strange at first, but it was so plain that this was a precautionary measure that the boys understood it easily enough. finally major french, an energetic, sunburned man, who looked as if he hadn't slept for days, came to them. they handed him the papers they carried. he glanced at them, signed receipts which he handed to them, and then frowned for a moment. "i think i'll let you take a message to colonel throckmorton for me," he said, then, giving them a kindly smile. "it will be a verbal message. you are to repeat what i tell you to him without a change. and i suppose i needn't tell you that you must give it to no one else?" "no, sir," they chorused. "very well, then. you will tell him that trains will be waiting below surbiton, at precisely ten o'clock tonight. runways will be built to let the men climb the embankment, and they can entrain there. you will remember that?" "yes, sir." "you might as well understand what it's all about," said the major. "you see, we're moving a lot of troops. and it is of the utmost importance for the enemy to know all about the movement and, of course, just as important for us to keep them from learning what they want to know. so we are covering the movement as well as we can. even if they learn some of the troops that are going, we want to keep them from finding out everything. their spy system is wonderfully complete and we have to take every precaution that is possible. it is most important that you deliver this message to colonel throckmorton. repeat it to me exactly," he commanded. they did so, and, seemingly satisfied, he let them go. but just as they were leaving, he called them back. "you'd go back by the underground, i suppose," he said. "i'm not sure that you can get through for the line is likely to be taken over, temporarily, at any moment. take a taxicab--i'll send an orderly with you to put you aboard. don't pay the man anything; we are keeping a lot of them outside on government service, and they get their pay from the authorities." the orderly led them to the stand, some distance from the station, where the cabs stood in a long row, and spoke to the driver of the one at the head of the rank. in a moment the motor was started, and they were off. the cab had a good engine, and it made good time. but after a little while harry noticed with some curiosity that the route they were taking was not the most direct one. he rapped on the window glass and spoke to the driver about it. "got to go round, sir," the man explained. "roads are all torn up the straight way, sir. won't take much longer, sir." harry accepted the explanation. indeed, it seemed reasonable enough. but some sixth sense warned him to keep his eyes open. and at last he decided that there could be no excuse for the way the cab was proceeding. it seemed to him that they were going miles out of the way, and decidedly in the wrong direction. he did not know london as well as a boy who had lived there all his life would have done. but his scout training had given him a remarkable ability to keep his bearings. and it needed no special knowledge to realize that the sun was on the wrong side of the cab for a course that was even moderately straight for ealing. they had swung well around, as a matter of fact, into a northwestern suburban section, and once he had seen a maze of railway tracks that meant, he was almost sure that they were passing near willisden junction. only a few houses appeared in the section through which the cab was now racing and pavements were not frequent. he spoke to dick: in a whisper. "there's something funny here," he said. "but, no matter what happens pretend you think it's all right. let anyone who speaks to us think we're foolish. it will be easier for us to get away then. and keep your eyes wide open, if we stop anywhere, so that you will be sure to know the place again!" "right!" said dick. just then the cab, caught in a rutty road where the going was very heavy, and there was a slight upgrade in addition, to make it worse, slowed up considerably. and dick, looking out the window on his side, gave a stifled exclamation. "look there, harry!" he said. "do you see the sun flashing on something on the roof of that house over there? what do you suppose that is?" "whew!" harry whistled, "you ought to know that, dick! a heliograph--field telegraph. morse code--or some code--made by flashes. the sun catches a mirror or some sort of reflector, and it's just like a telegraph instrument, with dots and dashes, except that you work by sight instead of by sound. that is queer. try to mark just where the house is, and so will i." the cab turned, while they were still looking, and removed the house where the signalling was being done from their line of vision. but in a few moments there was a loud report that startled the scouts until they realized that a front tire had blown out. the driver stopped at once, and descended, seemingly much perturbed. and harry and dick, piling out to inspect the damage, started when they saw that they had stopped just outside the mysterious house. "i'll fix that in a jiffy," said the driver, and began jacking up the wheel. but, quickly as he stripped off the deflated tire, he was not so quick that harry failed to see that the blow-out had been caused by a straight cut--not at all the sort of tear produced by a jagged stone or a piece of broken glass. he said nothing of his discovery, however, and a moment later he looked up to face a young man in the uniform of an officer of the british territorial army. this young man had keen, searching blue eyes, and very blond hair. his upper lip was closely shaven, but it bore plain evidence that within a few days it had sported a moustache. "well," said the officer, "what are you doing here?" the driver straightened up as if in surprise. "blow-out, sir," he said, touching his cap. "i'm carrying these young gentlemen from waterloo to ealing, sir. had to come around on account of the roads." "you've have your way lost, my man. why not admit it?" said the officer, showing his white teeth in a smile. he turned to harry an dick. "boy scouts, i see," he commented. "you carry orders concerning the movement of troops from ealing? they are to entrain--where?" "near croydon, sir, on the brighton and south coast line," said harry, lifting his innocent eyes to his questioner. "so! they go to dover, then, i suppose--no, perhaps to folkestone--- oh, what matter? hurry up with your tire, my man!" he watched them still as the car started. then he went back to the house. "whatever did you tell him that whopper about croydon for?" whispered dick. "i wasn't going to tell him anything-" "then he might have tried to make us," answered harry, also in a whisper. "did you notice anything queer about him?" "why, no--" "you have your way lost!' would any englishman say that, dick? and wouldn't a german? you've studied german. translate 'you've lost your way' into german. 'du hast dein weg--' see? he was a german spy!" "oh, harry! i believe you're right! but why didn't we--" "try to arrest him? there may have been a dozen others there, too. and there was the driver. we wouldn't have had a chance. besides, if he thinks we don't suspect, we may be able to get some valuable information later. i think--" "what?" "i'd better not say now. but remember this--we've got to look out for this driver. i think he'll take us straight to ealing now. when we get to the barracks you stay in the cab--we'll pretend we may have to go back with him." "i see," said dick, thrilling with the excitement of this first taste of real war. harry was right. the driver's purpose in making such a long detour, whatever it was, had been accomplished. and now he plainly did his best to make up for lost time. he drove fast and well, and in a comparatively short time both the scouts could see that they were on the right track. "you watch one side. i'll take the other," said harry. "we've got to be able to find our way back to that house." this watchfulness confirmed harry's suspicions concerning the driver, because he made two or three circuits that could have no other purpose than to make it hard to follow his course. at ealing he and dick carried out their plan exactly. dick stayed with the cab, outside the wall; harry hurried in. and five minutes after harry had gone inside a file of soldiers, coming around from another gate, surrounded the cab and arrested the driver. chapter v on the trail harry had reached colonel throckmorton without difficulty and before delivering major french's message, he explained his suspicions regarding the driver. "what's that? 'eh, what's that?" asked the colonel. "spy? this country's suffering from an epidemic of spy fever--that's what! still--a taxi cab driver, eh? perhaps he's one of the many who's tried to overcharge me. i'll put him in the guardhouse, anyway! i'll find out if you're right later, young man!" as a matter of fact, and as harry surmised, colonel throckmorton felt that it was not a time to take chances. he was almost sure that harry was letting his imagination run away with him, but it would be safer to arrest a man by mistake than to let him go if there was a chance that he was guilty. so he gave the order and then turned to question harry. the scout first gave major french's message, and colonel throckmorton immediately dispatched an orderly after giving him certain whispered instructions. "now tell me just why you suspect your driver. explain exactly what happened," he said. he turned to a stenographer. "take notes of this, johnson," he directed. harry told his story simply and well. when he quoted the officer's remark to the cab driver, with the german inversion, the colonel chuckled. "you have your way lost!' eh?" he said, with a smile. "you're right--he was no englishman! go on!" when he had finished, the colonel brought down his fist on his desk with a great blow. "you've done very well, fleming--that's your name?--very well, indeed," he said, heartily. "we know london is covered with spies but we have flattered ourselves that it didn't matter very much what they found, since there was no way that we could see for them to get their news to their headquarters in germany. but now--" he frowned thoughtfully. "they might be able to set up a chain of signalling stations," he said. "the thing to do would be to follow them, eh? do you think you could do that? you might use a motorcycle--know how to ride one?" "yes, sir," said harry. "live with your parents, do you? would they let you go? i don't think it would be very dangerous, and you would excite less suspicion than a man. see if they will let you turn yourself over to me for a few days. pick out another scout to go with you, if you like. perhaps two of you would be better than one. report to me in the morning. i'll write a note to your scoutmaster--mr. wharton, isn't it? right!" as they made their way homeward, thoroughly worked up by the excitement of their adventure, harry wondered whether his father would let him undertake this service colonel throckmorton had suggested. after all, he was not english, and he felt that his father might not want him to do it, although mr. fleming, he knew, sympathized strongly with the english in the war. he said nothing to dick, preferring to wait until he was sure that he could go ahead with his plans. but when he reached his house he found that things had changed considerably in his absence. both his parents seemed worried; his father seemed especially troubled. "harry," he said, "the war has hit us already. i'm called home by cable, and at the same time there is word that your aunt mary is seriously ill. your mother wants to be with her. i find that, by a stroke of luck, i can get quarters for your mother and myself on tomorrow's steamer. but there's no room for you. do you think you could get along all right if you were left here? i'll arrange for supplies for the house; mrs. grimshaw can keep house. and you will have what money you need." "of course i can get along!" said harry, stoutly. "i suppose the steamers are fearfully crowded?" "only about half of them are now in service," said mr. fleming. "and the rush of americans who have been travelling abroad is simply tremendous. well, if you can manage, it will relieve us greatly. i think we'll be back in less than a month. keep out of mischief. and write to us as often as you can hear of a steamer that is sailing. if anything happens to you, cable. i'll arrange with mr. bruce, at the embassy, to help you if you need him, but that ought not to be necessary." harry was genuinely sorry for his mother's distress at leaving him, but he was also relieved, in a way. he felt now he would not be forbidden to do his part with the scouts. he would be able to undertake what promised to be the greatest adventure that had ever come his way. he had no fear of being left alone for his training as a boy scout had made him too self reliant for that. mr. and mrs. fleming started for liverpool that night. train service throughout the country was so disorganized by the military use of the railways that journeys that in normal, peaceful times required only two or three hours were likely to consume a full day. so he went into the city of london with them and saw them off at euston, which was full of distressed american refugees. the flemings found many friends there, of whose very presence in london they were ignorant, and mr. fleming, who, thanks to his business connections in london, was plentifully supplied with cash, was able to relieve the distress of some of them. many had escaped from france, germany and austria with only the clothes they wore, having lost all their luggage. many more, though possessed of letters of credit or travellers' checks for considerable sums, didn't have enough money to buy a sandwich; since the banks were all closed and no one would cash their checks. so harry had another glimpse of the effects of war, seeing how it affected a great many people who not only had nothing to do with the fighting, but were citizens of a neutral nation. he was beginning to understand very thoroughly by this time that war was not what he had always dreamed. it meant more than fighting, more than glory. but, after all, now that war had come, it was no time to think of such things. he had undertaken, if he could get permission, to do a certain very important piece of work. and now, by a happy accident, as he regarded it, it wasn't necessary for him to ask that permission. he was not forbidden to do any particular thing; his father had simply warned him to be careful. so when he went home, he whistled outside of dick mercer's window, woke him up, and, when dick came down into the garden, explained to him what colonel throckmorton wanted them to do. "he said i could pick out someone to go with me, dick," harry explained. "and, of course, i'd rather have you than anyone i can think of. will you come along?" "will i!" said dick. "what do you think you'll do, harry?" "we may get special orders, of course," said harry. "but i think the first thing will be to find out just where the signals from that house are being received. they must be answered, you know, so we ought to find the next station. then, from that, we can work on to the next." "where do you suppose those signals go to?" "that's what we've got to find out, dick! but i should think, in the long run, to someplace on the east coast. perhaps they've got some way there of signalling to ships at sea. anyhow, that's what's got to be discovered. did you see graves tonight?" "no," said dick, his lips tightening, "i didn't! but i heard about him, all right." "how? what do you mean?" "i heard that he'd been doing a lot of talking about you. he said it wasn't fair to have taken you and given you the honor of doing something when there were english boys who were just as capable of doing it as you." "oh!" said harry, with a laugh. "much i care what he says!" "much i care, either!" echoed dick. "but, harry, he has made some of the other chaps feel that way, too. they all like you, and they don't like him. but they do seem to think some of them should have been chosen." "'well, it's not my fault," said harry, cheerfully. "i certainly wasn't going to refuse. and it isn't as if i'd asked mr. wharton to pick me out." "no, and i fancy there aren't many of them who would have done as well as you did today, either!" "oh yes, they would! that wasn't anything. we'd better get to bed now. i think we ought to report just as early as we can in the morning. if we get away by seven o'clock, it won't be a bit too early." "all right. i'll be ready. good-night, harry!" "good-night, dick!" morning saw them up on time, and off to ealing. there colonel throckmorton gave them their orders. "i've requisitioned motorcycles for you," he said. "make sure of the location of the house, so that you can mark it on an ordnance map for me. then use your own judgment, but find the next house. i have had letters prepared for you that will introduce you to either the mayor or the military commander in any town you reach and you will get quarters for the night, if you need them. where do you think your search will lead you, fleming?" he eyed harry sharply as he asked the question. "somewhere on the east coast, i think, sir," replied harry. "well, that remains to be seen. report by telegraph, using this code. it's a simplified version of the official code, but it contains all you will need to use. that is all." finding the house, when they started on their motorcycles, did not prove as difficult a task as harry had feared it might. they both remembered a number of places they had marked from the cab windows, and it was not long before they were sure they were drawing near. "i remember that hill," said harry. "by jove--yes, there it is! on top of that hill, do you see? we won't go much nearer. i don't want them to see us, by any chance. all we need is to notice which way they're signalling." they watched the house for some time before there was any sign of life. and then it was only the flashes that they saw. since the previous day some sort of cover had been provided for the man who did the signalling. "what do you make of it, dick?" asked harry eagerly, after the flashing had continued for some moments. "it looks to me as if they were flashing toward the north and a little toward the west," said dick, puzzled. "that's the way it seems to me, too," agreed harry. "that isn't what we expected, either, is it?" "of course we can't be sure." "no, put it certainly looks that way. well, we can't make sure from here, but we've got to do it somehow. i tell you what. we'll circle around and get northwest of the house. then we ought to be able to tell a good deal better. and if we get far enough around, i don't believe they'll see us, or pay any attention to us if they do." so they mounted their machines again, and in a few moments were speeding toward a new and better spot from which to spy on the house. but this, when they reached it, only confirmed their first guess. the signals were much more plainly visible here, and it was obvious now, as it had not been before, that the screen they had noticed had been erected as much to concentrate the flashes and make them more easily visible to a receiving station as to conceal the operator. so they turned and figured a straight line as well as they could from the spot where the flashes were made. harry had a map with him, and on this he marked, as well as he could, the location of the house. then he drew a line from it to the northwest. "the next station must be on this line somewhere," he said. "we'll stick to it. there's a road, you see, that we can follow that's almost straight. and as soon as we come to a high building we ought to be able to see both flashes--the ones that are being sent from that house and the answering signals. do you see?" "yes, that'll be fine!" said dick. "come on!" "not so fast!" said a harsh voice behind them. they spun around, and there, grinning a little, but looking highly determined and dangerous, was the same man they had seen the day before, and who had questioned them when the tire of their taxicab blew out! but now he was not in uniform, but in a plain suit of clothes. "so you are spying on my house, are you?" he said. "and you lied to me yesterday! no troops were sent to croydon at all!" "well, you hadn't any business to ask us!" said dick, pluckily. "if you hadn't asked us any questions, we'd have told you no lies." "i think perhaps you know too much," said the spy, nodding his head, "you had better come with me. we will look after you in this house that interests you so greatly." he made a movement forward. his hand dropped on dick's shoulder. but as it did so harry's feet left the ground. he aimed for the spy's legs, just below the knee, and brought him to the ground with a beautiful diving tackle--the sort he had learned in his american football days. it was the one attack of all others that the spy did not anticipate, if, indeed, he looked for any resistance at all. he wasn't a football player, so he didn't know how to let his body give and strike the ground limply. the result was that his head struck a piece of hard ground with abnormal violence, and he lay prone and very still. "oh, that was ripping, harry!" cried dick. "but do you think you've killed him?" "killed him? no!" said harry, with a laugh. "he's tougher than that, dick!" but he looked ruefully at the spy. "i wish i knew what to do with him," he said. "he'll come to in a little while. but--" "we can get away while he's still out," said dick, quickly. "he can't follow us and we can get such a start with our motorcycles." "yes, but he'll know their game is up," said harry. "don't you see, dick? he'll tell them they're suspected--and that's all they'll need in the way of warning. when men are doing anything as desperate as the sort of work they're up to in that house, they take no more chances than they have to. they'd be off at once, and start up somewhere else. we only stumbled on this by mere accident--they might be able to work for weeks if they were warned." "oh, i never thought of that! what are we to do, then?' "i wish i knew whether anyone saw us from the house or if they didn't--! well, we'll have to risk that. dick, do you see that house over there? it's all boarded up--it must be empty." "yes, i see it." dick caught harry's idea at once this time, and began measuring with his eye the distance to the little house of which harry had spoken. "it's all down hill--i think we could manage it all right." "we'll try it, anyhow," said harry. "but first we'd better tie up his hands and feet. he's too strong for the pair of us, i'm afraid, if he should come to." once that was done, they began to drag the spy toward the house. half carrying, half pulling, they got him down the slope, and with a last great effort lifted him through a window, which, despoiled of glass, had been boarded up. they were as gentle as they could be, for the idea of hurting a helpless man, even though he was a spy, went against the grain. but-- "we can't be too particular," said harry. "and he brought it on himself. i'm afraid he'll have worse than this to face later on." they dumped him through the window, from which they had taken the boards. then they made their own way inside, and harry began to truss up the prisoner more scientifically. he understood the art of tying a man very well indeed, for one of the games of his old scout patrol had involved tying up one scout after another to see if they could free themselves. and when he had done, he stepped back with a smile of satisfaction. "i don't believe he'll get himself free very soon," he said. "he'll be lucky if that knock on the head keeps him unconscious for a long time, because he'll wake up with a headache, and if he stays as he is he won't know how uncomfortable he is." "are we going to leave him like that, harry?" "we've got to, dick. but he'll be all right, i am going to telephone to colonel throckmorton and tell him to send here for him, but to do so at night, and so that no one will notice. he won't starve or die of thirst. i can easily manage to describe this place so that whoever the colonel sends will find it. come on!" they went back to their cycles and rode on until they came to a place where they could telephone. harry explained guardedly, and they went on. chapter vi the mystery of bray park "i hope he'll be all right," said dick. "they'll find him, i'm sure," said harry. "even if they don't, he'll be all right for a few days, two or three, anyhow. a man can be very uncomfortable and miserable, and still not be in any danger. we don't need half as much food as we eat, really. i've heard that lots of times." they were riding along the line that harry had marked on his map, and, a mile or two ahead, there was visible an old-fashioned house, with a tower projecting from its centre. from this, harry had decided, they should be able to get the view they required and so locate the second heliographing station. "how far away do you think it ought to be, harry?" asked dick. "it's very hard to tell, dick. a first-class heliograph is visible for a very long way, if the conditions are right. that is, if the sun is out and the ground is level. in south africa, for instance, or in egypt, it would work for nearly a hundred miles, or maybe even more. but here i should think eight or ten miles would be the limit. and it's cloudy so often that it must be very uncertain." "why don't they use flags, then?" "the way we do in the scouts? well, i guess that's because the heliograph is so much more secret. you see, with the heliograph the flashes are centered. you've got to be almost on a direct line with them, or not more than fifty yards off the centre line, to see them at all, even a mile away. but anyone can see flags, and read messages, unless they're in code. and if these people are german spies, the code wouldn't help them. having it discovered that they were sending messages at all would spoil their plans." "i see. of course, though. that's just what you said. it was really just by accident that we saw them flashing." then they came to the house where they expected to make their observation. it was occupied by an old gentleman, who came out to see what was wanted and stood behind the servant who opened the door. at the sight of their uniforms he drew himself up very straight and saluted. but, formal as he was, there was a smile in his eyes. "well, boys," he said, "what can i do for you? on his majesty's service, i suppose?" "yes, sir," said dick. "we'd like to go up in your tower room, if you don't mind." "scouting, eh?" said the old gentleman, mystified. "do you expect to locate the enemy's cavalry from my tower room? well, well--up with you. you can do no harm." dick was inclined to resent the old gentleman's failure to take them seriously, but harry silenced his protest. as they went up the stairs he whispered: "it's better for him to think that. we don't want anyone to know what we're doing, you know--not yet." so they reached the tower room, and, just as harry had anticipated, got a wonderful view of the surrounding country. they found that the heliograph they had left behind was working feverishly and harry took out a pencil and jotted down the symbols as they were flashed. "it's in code, of course," he said, "but maybe we'll find someone who can decipher it--i know they have experts for that. it might come in handy to know what they were talking about." "there's the other station answering!" said dick, excitedly, after a moment. "isn't it lucky that it's such a fine day, harry? see, there it is, over there!" "let me have the glasses," said harry, taking the binoculars from dick. "yes, you're right! they're on the top of a hill, just about where i thought we'd find them, too. come on! we've got no time to waste. they're a good seven miles from here, and we've a lot more to do yet." below stairs the old gentleman tried to stop them. he was very curious by this time, for he had been thinking about them and it had struck him that they were too much in earnest to simply be enjoying lark. but harry and dick, while they met his questions politely, refused to enlighten him. "i'm sorry, sir," said harry, when the old gentleman pressed him too hard. "but i really think we mustn't tell you why we're here. but if you would like to hear of it later, we'll be glad to come to see you and explain everything." "bless my soul!" said the old man. "when i was a boy we didn't think so much of ourselves, i can tell you! but then we didn't have any boy scouts, either!" it was hard to tell from his manner whether that was intended for a compliment or not. but they waited no longer. in a trice they were on their motorcycles and off again. and when they drew near to the hilltop whence the signals had come, harry stopped. for a moment he looked puzzled, then he smiled. "i think i've got it!" he said. "they're clever enough to try to fool anyone who got on to their signalling. they would know what everyone would think--that they would be sending their messages to the east coast, because that is nearest to germany. that's why they put their first station here. i'll bet they send the flashes zig-zagging all around, but that we'll find they all get east gradually. now we'll circle around this one until we find out in what direction it is flashing, then we'll know what line we must follow. after that all we've got to do is to follow the line to some high hill or building, and we'll pick up the next station." their eyes were more accustomed to the work now, and they wasted very little time. this time, just as harry had guessed, the flashes were being sent due east, and judging from the first case that the next station would be less than ten miles away, he decided to ride straight on for about that distance. he had a road map, and found that they could follow a straight line, except for one break. they did not go near the hilltop at all. "i'd like to know what they're doing there," said dick. "so would i, but it's open country, and they're probably keeping a close lookout. they're really safer doing that in the open than on the roof of a house, out here in the country." "because they can hide the heliograph? it's portable, isn't it?" "yes. they could stow it away in a minute, if they were alarmed. i fancy we'll find them using hilltops now as much as they can." "harry, i've just thought of something. if they've planned so carefully as this, wouldn't they be likely to have country places, where they'd be less likely to be disturbed?" "yes, they would. you're right, dick. especially as we get further and further away from london. i suppose there must be plenty of places a german could buy or lease." "and perhaps people wouldn't even know they were germans, if they spoke good english, and didn't have an accent." that suggestion of dick's bore fruit. for the third station they found was evidently hidden away in a private park. it was in the outskirts of a little village, and harry and dick had no trouble at all in finding out all the villagers knew of the place. "'twas taken a year ago by a rich american gentleman, with a sight of motor cars and foreign-looking servants," they were told. "very high and mighty he is, too--does all his buying at the stores in lunnon, and don't give local trade any of his patronage." the two scouts exchanged glances. their suspicions were confirmed in a way. but it was necessary to be sure; to be suspicious was not enough for them. "we'll have to get inside," he said under his breath to dick. but the villager heard, and laughed. "easy enough, if you're friends of his," he said. "if not--look out, master! he's got signs up warning off trespassers, and traps and spring guns all over the place. wants to be very private, and that, he does." "thanks," said harry. "perhaps we'd better not pay him a visit, after all." the village was a sleepy little place, one of the few spots harry had seen to which the war fever had not penetrated. it was not on the line of the railway, and there was not even a telegraph station. by showing colonel throckmorton's letter, harry and dick could have obtained the right to search the property that they suspected. but that did not seem wise. "i don't think the village constables here could help us much, dick," said harry. "they'd give everything away, and we probably wouldn't accomplish anything except to put them on their guard. i vote we wait until dark and try to find out what we can by ourselves. it's risky but even if they catch us, i don't think we need to be afraid of their doing anything." "i'm with you," said dick. "we'll do whatever you say." they spent the rest of the afternoon scouting around the neighboring country on their motorcycles, studying the estate from the roads that surrounded it. bray park, it was called, and it had for centuries belonged to an old family, which, however, had been glad of the high rent it had been able to extract from the rich american who had taken the place. what they saw was that the grounds seemed to be surrounded, near the wall, by heavy trees, which made it difficult to see much of what was within. but in one place there was a break, so that, looking across velvety green lawns, they could see a small part of an old and weatherbeaten grey house. it appeared to be on a rise, and to stand several stories above the ground, so that it might well be an ideal place for the establishment of a heliograph station. but harry's suspicions were beginning to take a new turn. "i believe this is the biggest find we've made yet, dick," he said. "i think we'll find that if we discover what is really going on here, we'll be at the end of our task--or very near it. it's just the place for a headquarters." "i believe it is, harry. and if they've been so particular to keep everything about it secret, it certainly seems that there must be something important to hide," suggested harry, thinking deeply. "i think i'll write a letter to colonel throckmorton, dick. i'll tell him about this place, and that we're trying to get in and find out what we can about it. then, if anything happens to us, he'll know what we were doing, and he will have heard about this place, even if they catch us. i'll post it before we go in." "that's a splendid idea, harry. i don't see how you think of everything the way you do." "i think it's because my father's always talking about how one ought to think of all the things that can go wrong. he says that's the way he's got along in business is by never being surprised by having something unfortunate happen, and by always trying to be ready to make it as trifling as it can be." so harry wrote and posted his letter, taking care to word it so that it would be hard for anyone except colonel throckmorton to understand it. and, even after having purposely made the wording rather obscure, he put it into code. and, after that, he thought of still another precaution that might be wise. "we won't need the credentials we've got in there tonight, dick," he said. "nor our copies of the code, either. we'll bury them near where we leave our motorcycles. then when we get out we can easily get them back, and if we should be caught they won't be found on us. remember, if we are caught, we're just boys out trespassing. let them think we're poachers, if they like." but even harry could think of no more precautions after that, and they had a long and tiresome wait until they thought it was dark enough to venture within the walls. getting over the wall was not difficult. they had thought they might find broken glass on top, but there was nothing of the sort. once inside, however, they speedily discovered why that precaution was not taken--and also that they had had a remarkably narrow escape. for scarcely had they dropped to the ground and taken shelter when they saw a figure, carrying a gun, approaching. it was a man making the rounds of the wall. while they watched he met another man, also armed, and turned to retrace this steps. "they've got two men, at least--maybe a lot more, doing that," whispered harry. "we've got to find out just how often he passes that spot. we want to know if the intervals are regular, too, so that we can calculate just when he'll be there." three times the man came and went, while they waited, timing him. and harry found that he passed the spot at which they had entered every fifteen minutes. that was not exact for there was a variation of a minute or so, but it seemed pretty certain that he would pass between thirteen and seventeen minutes after the hour, and so on. "so we'll know when it's safe to make a dash to get out," said harry. "the first thing a general does, you know, is to secure his retreat. he doesn't expect to be beaten, but he wants to know what he can live to fight another day if he is." "we've got to retreat, haven't we?" asked dick. "it wouldn't do us any good to stay here." "that's so. but we've got to advance first. now to get near that house, and see what we can find. look out for those traps and things our friend warned us of. it looks like just the place for them. and keep to cover!" they wormed their way forward, often crawling along. both knew a good deal about traps and how they are set, and their common sense enabled them to see the most likely places for them. they kept to open ground, avoiding shrubbery and what looked like windfalls of branches. before they came into full view of the house they had about a quarter of a mile to go. and it was an exciting journey. they dared not speak to one another. for all about, though at first they could see nothing, there was the sense of impending danger. they felt that unseen eyes were watching, not for them, perhaps, but for anyone who might venture to intrude and pass the first line. both of the scouts felt that they were tilting against a mighty force, that the organization that would perfect, in time of peace. such a system of espionage in the heart of the country of a possible enemy, was of the most formidable sort. they stopped, at last, at the edge of the clump of thick, old trees that seemed to surround the place. here they faced the open lawn, and harry realized that to try to cross it was too risky. they would gain nothing by being detected. they could find out as much here by keeping their eyes and ears open, he thought, as by going forward, when they were almost sure to be detected. "we'll stay here," he whispered to dick, cautiously. "dick, look over there--to the left of the house. you see where there's a shadow by that central tower? well, to the left of that. do you see some wires dangling there? i'm not sure." "i think there are," whispered dick, after a moment in which he peered through the darkness. dick had one unusual gift. he had almost a savage's ability to see in the dark, although in daylight his sight was by no means out of the ordinary. "look!" he said, again, suddenly. "up on top of the tower! there is something going up there--it's outlined against that white cloud!" harry followed with his eyes and dick was right. a long, thin pole was rising, even as they looked on. figures showed on the roof of the tower. they were busy about the pole. it seemed to grow longer as they watched. then, suddenly, the dangling wires they had first noticed were drawn taut, and they saw a cross-piece on the long pole. and then, with a sudden rush of memory, harry understood. "oh! we have struck it!" he said. "i remember now--a portable, collapsible wireless installation! i've wondered how they could use wireless, knowing that someone would be sure to pick up the signals and that the plant would be run down. but they have those poles made in sections--they could hide the whole thing. it takes very little time to set them up. this is simply a bigger copy of what they use in the field. we've got to get out!" he looked at his watch. "carefully, now," he said. "we've just about got time. that sentry must be just about passing the place where we got over the wall now. by the time we get there he'll be gone, and we can slip out. we've got everything we came for, not that we've seen that!" they started on the return journey through the woods. more than ever there seemed to be danger about them. and suddenly it reached out and gripped them--gripped harry, at least. as he took a step his foot sank through the ground, as it seemed. the next moment he had all he could do to suppress a cry of agony as a trap closed about his ankle, wrenching it, and throwing him down. "go on!" he said to dick, suppressing his pain by a great effort. "i won't leave you!" said dick. "i-" "obey orders! don't you see you've go to go? you've got to tell them about the wireless--and about where i am! or else how am i to get away? perhaps if you come back quickly with help they won't find me until you come! hurry--hurry!" dick understood. and, with a groan, he obeyed orders, and went. chapter vii a close shave probably dick did not realize that he was really showing a high order of courage in going while harry remained behind, caught in that cruel trap and practically in the hands of enemies who were most unlikely to treat him well. in fact, as he made his way toward the wall, dick was reproaching himself bitterly. "i ought to stay!" he kept on saying to himself over and over again. "i ought not to leave him so! he made me go so that i would be safe!" there had been no time to argue, or harry might have been able to make him understand that it was at least as dangerous to go as to stay--perhaps even more dangerous. dick did not think that there was at least a chance that every trap was wired, so that springing it would sound an alarm in some central spot. if that were so, as harry had fully understood, escape for dick would be most difficult and probably he too would be captured. "i'm such a coward!" dick almost sobbed to himself, for he was frightened, though, it must be said, less on his account than at the thought of harry. yet he did not stop. he went on resolutely, alone, as he got used to the idea that he must depend on himself, without harry to help him in any emergency that arose, his courage returned. he stopped, just as he knew harry would have done, several feet short of the wall. his watch told him that he had time enough to make a dash, had several minutes to spare, in fact. but he made sure. and it was well that he did. for some alarm had been given. he heard footsteps of running men, and in a moment two men, neither of them the one they knew as the sentry, came running along the wall. they carried pocket flashlights, and were examining the ground carefully. dick sensed at once what they meant to do, and shrank into the shelter of a great rhododendron bush. he was small for his age, and exceptionally lissome and he felt that the leaves would conceal him for a few moments at least. he was taking a risk of finding a trap in the bush, but it was the lesser of the two evils just then. and luck favored him. he encountered no trap. then one of the men with flashlights gave a cry that sounded to dick just like the note of a dog that has picked up a lost scent. the lights were playing on the ground just where they had crossed the wall. "footsteps, hans!" said the man. "turned from the wall, too! they have gone in, but have not come out." "how many?" asked the other man, coming up quickly. "two, i think--no more," said the discoverer. "now we shall follow them." dick held his breath. if they could follow the footsteps--and there was no reason in the world to hope that they could not!--they would be bound to pass within a foot or two of his hiding-place. and, as he realized, they would, when they were past him, find the marks of his feet returning. they would know then that he was between them and the wall. he realized what that would mean. bravely he nerved himself to take the one desperate chance that remained to him. they were far too strong for him to have a chance to meet them on even terms, all he could hope for was an opportunity to make use of his light weight and his superior speed. he knew that he could move two feet, at least, to their one. and so he waited, crouching, until they went by. the light flashed by the bush, for some reason, it did not strike it directly. that gave him a respite. fortunately they were looking for footprints, not for their makers. the moment they were by, dick took the chance of making a noise, and pushed through the bush, to reach the other side. and, just as the cry of the man who first had seen the footprints sounded again, he got through. at once, throwing off all attempt at silence, he started running, crouched low. he was only a dozen feet from the wall he leaped for a projection a few feet up. by a combination of good luck and skill he reached it with his hands. a moment later he had swarmed over the wall and dropped to the other side just as a shot rang out behind. the bullet struck the wall, chipped fragments of stone flew all over him. but he was not hurt, and he ran as he had, never known he could run, keeping to the side of the road, where he was in a heavy shadow. as soon as he could, he burst through a hedge on the side of the road opposite the wall, and ran on, sheltered by the hedge until, to his delight, he plunged headfirst into a stream of water. the fall knocked him out for a moment, but the cold water revived him and he did not mind the scraped knee and the hurt knuckles he owed to the sharp stones in the bed of the little brook. he changed his course at once, following the brook, since in that no telltale footprints would be left. behind him he heard the sound of pursuit for a little while, but he judged that the brook would save him. he could not be pursued very far. even in this sleepy countryside he would find it easy to get help, and the germans, as he was now sure they were, would have to give up the chase. all that had been essential had been for him to get a few hundred feet from the park, after that he was safe. but, if he was safe, he was hopelessly lost. at least he would have been, had he been an ordinary boy, without the scout training. he was in unknown country and he had been chased away from all the landmarks he had. it was of the utmost importance that he should reach as soon as possible, and, especially, without passing too near bray park, the spot where the motorcycles and the papers and codes had been cached. and, when he finally came to a full stop, satisfied that he no longer had anything to fear from pursuit, he was completely in the dark as to where he was. however, his training asserted itself. although harry had been in charge, dick had not failed to notice everything about the place where they made their cache that would help to identify it. that was instinct with him by this time, after two years as a scout; it was second nature. and, though it had been light, he had pictured pretty accurately what the place would look like at night. he remembered for instance, that certain stars would be sure to fill the sky in a particular relation to the cache. and now he looked up and worked out his own position. to do that he had to reconstruct, with the utmost care, his movements since he had left the cache to the moment when he and harry had entered bray park. but the chase had confused him, naturally. he had doubled on his track more than once, trying to throw his pursuers off. but by remembering accurately the position of bray park in its relation to the cache, and by concentrating as earnestly as he could to remember as much as possible of the course of his flight, he arrived presently at a decision of how he must proceed to retrieve the motorcycles and the papers. as soon as he had done so he hurried on, feverishly, taking a course that, while longer than necessary, was essential since he dared not go near bray park. he realized thoroughly how much depended on his promptness. it was essential that colonel throckmorton should learn of the wireless station, which was undoubtedly powerful enough to send its waves far out to sea, even if not to the german coast itself. and there was harry. the only chance of rescue for him lay in what dick might do. that thought urged him on even more than the necessity of imparting what they had learned. so, scouting as he went, least he encounter some prowling party from bray park silently looking for him, he went on hastily. he was almost as anxious to avoid the village as the spy headquarters, for he knew that in such places strangers might be regarded with suspicion even in times of peace. and, while the war fever had not seemed to be in evidence that afternoon, he knew that it might have broken out virulently in the interval. he had heard the stories of spy baiting in other parts of the country; how, in some localities, scores of absolutely innocent tourists had been arrested and searched. so he felt he must avoid his friends as well as his enemies until he had means of proving his identity. delaying as he was by his roundabout course, it took him nearly an hour to come to scenes that were familiar. but then he knew that he had found himself, with the aid of the stars. familiar places that he had marked when they made the cache appeared, and soon he reached it. but it was empty; motorcycles and papers--all were gone! chapter viii a friend in need "as long as i can't be at home, i'd rather be here than anywhere in the world i can think of!" was it little more than a week, thought harry fleming, since he had uttered those words so lightly? was it just a week since grenfel, his english scoutmaster, had bidden the boys of his troop goodbye? was it just two days since father and mother had been so suddenly recalled to the states? was it just that very morning that he and his good chum dick mercer had been detailed on this mission which had led to the discovery of the secret heliographs so busily sending messages to the enemy across the north sea? was it just a few hours since the two scouts, hot on the trail, had cached papers and motorcycles and started the closer exploration of that mysterious estate outside the sleepy english village, leased, so the village gossip had it, by a rich american who eccentrically denied himself to all comers and zealously guarded the privacy of his grounds? was it just a few moments since he had urged, even commanded, dick mercer to leave him, caught in a trap set for just such trespassers as they? had he urged his chum to leave him in his agony, for the ankle was badly wrenched, and seek safety in flight? the terrible pain in his ankle and the agonizing fear both for himself and his chum made moments seem like hours and the happenings of these same moments appear as an awful dream. he could hear, plainly enough, the advance of the two searchers who had scared dick into hiding in the rhododendron bush, he could even see the gleam of their flashlights, and was able, therefore, to guess what they were doing. for the moment it seemed impossible to him that dick should escape. he was sure of capture himself in a few minutes, and, as a matter of fact, there were things that made the prospect decidedly bearable. the pain in his ankle from the trap in which he had been caught was excruciating. it seemed to him that he must cry out, but he kept silence resolutely. as long as there was a chance that he might not fall into the hands of the spies who were searching the grounds, he meant to cling to it. but the chance was a very slim one, as he knew. he could imagine, without difficulty, just about what the men with the flashlights would do, by reasoning out his own course. they would look for footprints. these would lead them to the spot where he and dick had watched the raising of the wireless mast, and thence along the path they had taken to return to the wall and to safety. thus they would come to him, and he would be found, literally like a rat in a trap. and then, quite suddenly, came the diversion created by dick's daring dash for escape, when he sped from the bush and climbed the wall, followed by the bullets that the searchers fired after him. harry started, hurting his imprisoned ankle terribly by the wrench his sudden movement gave. then he listened eagerly for the cry he dreaded yet expected to hear that would tell him that dick had been hit. it did not come. instead, he heard more men running, and then in a moment all within the wall was quiet, and he could hear the hue and cry dying away as they chased him along the road outside. "well, by jove!" he said to himself, enthusiastically, "i believe dick's fooled them. i didn't think he had it in him! that's bully for him! he ought to get a medal for that!" it was some moments before he realized fully that he had gained a respite, temporally at least. obviously the two men who had been searching with flashlights had followed dick, there was at least a good chance that no one else knew about him. he had decided that there was some system of signal wires that rang an alarm when a trap was sprung. but it might be that these two men were the only ones who were supposed to follow up such an alarm. he carried a flashlight himself and now he took the chance of playing it on his ankle, to see if there was any chance of escape. he hooded the light with his hand and looked carefully. but what he saw was not encouraging. the steel band looked most formidable. it was on the handcuff principle and any attempt to work his foot loose would only make the grip tighter and increase his suffering. his spirits fell at that. then the only thing his brief immunity would do for him would be to keep him in pain a little longer. he would be caught anyhow, and he guessed that, if dick got away, he would find his captors in a savage mood. even as he let the flashlight wink out, since it was dangerous to use it more than was necessary, he heard a cautious movement within a few feet. at first he thought it was an animal he had heard, so silent were its movements. but in a moment a hand touched his own. he started slightly, but kept quiet. "hush--i'm a friend," said a voice, almost at his elbow. "'i thought you were somewhere around here but i couldn't find you until you flashed your light. you're caught in a trap, aren't you?" "yes," said harry. "who are you?" "that's what i want to know about you, first," said the other boy--for it was another boy, as harry learned from his voice. never had a sound been more welcome in his ears than that voice. "tell me who you are and what you two were doing around here. i saw you this afternoon and tracked you. i tried to before, but i couldn't, on account of your motorcycles. then i just happened to see you, when you were on foot. are you boy scouts?" "yes," said harry. "are you?" "yes. that's why i followed--especially when i saw you coming in here. we've got a patrol in the village, but most of the scouts are at work in the fields." rapidly, and in a whisper, harry explained a little, enough to make this new ally understand. "you'd better get out, if you know how, and take word," said harry. "i think my chum got away, but it would be better to be sure. and they'll be after me soon." "if they give us two or three minutes we'll both get out," said the newcomer, confidently. "i know this place with my eyes shut. i used to play here before the old family moved away. i'm the vicar's son, in the village, and i always had the run of the park until these new people came. and i've been in here a few times since then, too." "that's all right," said harry. "but how am i going to get out of this trap?" "let me have your flashlight a moment," said the stranger. harry gave it to him, and the other scout bent over his ankle. harry saw that he had a long slender piece of wire. he guessed that he was going to try to pick the lock. and in a minute or less harry heard a welcome click that told him his new found friend--a friend in need, indeed, he was proving himself to be, had succeeded. his ankle was free. he struggled to his feet, and there was a moment of exquisite pain as the blood rushed through his ankle and circulation was restored to his numbed foot. but he was able to stand, and, although limpingly, to walk. he had been fortunate, as a matter of fact, in that no bone had been crushed. that might well have happened with such a trap, or a ligament or tendon might have been wrenched or torn, in which case he would have found it just about impossible to move at all. as it was, however, he was able to get along, though he suffered considerable pain every time he put his foot to the ground. it was no time, however, in which to think of discomforts so comparatively trifling as that. when he was outside he would be able, with the other scout's aid, to give his foot some attention, using the first aid outfit that he always carried, as every scout should do. but now the one thing to be done, to make good his escape. harry realized, as soon as he was free, that he was not by any means out of the woods. he was still decidedly in the enemy's country, and getting out of it promised to be a difficult and a perilous task. he was handicapped by his lack of knowledge of the place and what little he did know was discouraging. he had proof that human enemies were not the only ones he had to fear. and the only way he knew that offered a chance of getting out offered, as well, the prospect of encountering the men who had pursued dick mercer, returning. it was just as he made up his mind to this that the other scout spoke again. "we can't get out the way you came in," he said. "or, if we could, it's too risky. but there's another way. i've been in here since these people started putting their traps around, and i know where most of them are. come on!" harry was glad to obey. he had no hankering for command. the thing to do was to get out as quickly as he could. and so he followed, though he had qualms when he saw that, instead of going toward the wall, they were heading straight in and toward the great grey house. they circled the woods that gave them the essential protection of darkness, and always they got further and further from the place where dick and harry had entered. harry understood, of course, that there were other ways of getting out but it took a few words to make him realize the present situation as it actually was. "there's a spot on the other side they don't really guard at all," said his companion. "it's where the river runs by the place. they think no one would come that way. and i don't believe they know anything at all about what i'm going to show you." soon harry heard the water rustling. and then, to his surprise, his guide led him straight into a tangle of shrubbery. it was hard going for him, for his ankle pained him a good deal, but he managed it. and in a moment the other boy spoke, and, for the first time, in a natural voice. "i say, i'm glad we're here!" he said, heartily. "d'ye see?" "it looks like a cave," said harry. "it is, but it's more than that, too. this place is no end old, you know. it was here when they fought the wars of the roses, i've heard. and come on--i'll show you something!" he led the way on into the cave, which narrowed as they went. but harry, pointing his flashlight ahead, saw that it was not going to stop. "oh! a secret passage! i understand now!" he exclaimed, finally. "isn't it jolly?" said the other. "can't you imagine what fun we used to have here when we played about? you see, this may have been used to bring in food in time of siege. there used to be another spur of this tunnel that ran right into the house. but that was all let go to pot, for some reason. this is all that is left. but it's enough. it runs way down under the river--and in a jiffy we'll be out in the meadows on the other side. i say, what's your name?" they hadn't had time to exchange the information each naturally craved about the other before. and now, as they realized it, they both laughed. harry told his name. "mine's jack young," said the other scout. "i say, you don't talk like an englishman?" "i'm not," explained harry. "i'm american. but i'm for england just now--and we were caught here trying to find out something about that place." they came out into the open then, where the light of the stars enabled them to see one another. jack nodded. "i got an idea of what you were after--you two," he said. "the other one's english, isn't he?" "dick mercer? yes!" said harry, astonished. "but how did you find out about us?" "stalked you," said jack, happily. "oh, i'm no end of a scout! i followed you as soon as i caught you without your bicycles." "we must have been pretty stupid to let you do it, though," said harry, a little crestfallen. "i'm glad we did, but suppose you'd been an enemy! a nice fix we'd have been in!" "that's just what i thought about you," admitted jack. "you see, everyone has sort of laughed at me down here because i said there might be german spies about. i've always been suspicious of the people who took bray park. they didn't act the way english people do. they didn't come to church, and when the pater--i told you he was the vicar here, didn't i?--went to call, they wouldn't let him in! just sent word they were out. fancy treating the vicar like that!" he concluded with spirit. harry knew enough of the customs of the english countryside to understand that the new tenants of bray park could not have chosen a surer method of bringing down both dislike and suspicion upon themselves. "that was a bit too thick, you know," jack went on. "so when the war started, i decided i'd keep my eyes open, especially on any strangers who came around. so there you have it. i say! you'd better let me try to make that ankle easier. you're limping badly." that was true, and harry submitted gladly to such ministrations as jack knew how to offer. cold water helped considerably, it reduced the swelling. and then jack skillfully improvised a brace, that, binding the ankle tightly, gave it a fair measure of support. "now try that," he said. "see if it doesn't feel better!" "it certainly does!" said harry. "you're quite a doctor, aren't you? well now the next thing to do is to try to find where dick is. i know where he went--to the place where we cached our cycles and our papers." like dick, he was hopelessly at sea, for the moment, as to his whereabouts. and he had, more-over, to reckon with the turns and twists of the tunnel, which there had been no way of following in the utter darkness. but jack young, who, of course, could have found his way anywhere within five miles of them blindfolded, helped him, and they soon found that they were less than half a mile from the place. "can you come on with me, jack?" asked harry. he felt that in his rescuer he had found a new friend, and one whom he was going to like very well, indeed, and he wanted his company, if it was possible. "yes. no one knows i am out," said jack, frankly. "the pater's like the rest of them here--he doesn't take the war seriously yet. when i said the other day that it might last long enough for me to be old enough to go, he laughed at me. i really hope it won't, but i wouldn't be surprised if id did, would you?" "no, i wouldn't. it's too early to tell anything about it yet, really. but if the germans fight the way they always have before, it's going to be a long war." they talked as they went, and, though harry's ankle was still painful, the increased speed the bandaging made possible more than made up for the time it had required. harry was anxious about dick, he wanted to rejoin him as soon as possible. and so it was not long before they came near to the place where the cycles had been cached. "we'd better go slow. in case anyone else watched us this afternoon, we don't want to walk into a trap," said harry. he was more upset than he had cared to admit by the discovery that he and dick had been spied upon by jack, excellent though it had been that it was so. for what jack had done it was conceivable that someone else, too, might have accomplished. "all right. you go ahead," said jack. "i'll form a rear guard--d'ye see? then you can't be surprised." "that's a good idea," said harry. "there, see that big tree, that blasted one over there? i marked that. the cache is in a straight line, almost, from that, where the ground dips a little. there's a clump of bushes." "there's someone there, too," said jack. "he's tugging at a cycle, as if he were trying to get ready to start it." "that'll be dick, then," said harry, greatly relieved. "all right--i'll go ahead!" he went on then, and soon he, too, saw dick busy with the motorcycle. "won't he be glad to see me, though?" he thought. "poor old dick! i'll bet he's had a hard time." then he called, softly. and dick turned. but--it was not dick. it was ernest graves! chapter ix an unexpected blow! for a moment it would have been hard to lay which of them was more completely staggered and amazed. "what are you doing here?" harry gasped, finally. and then, all at once, it came over him that it did not matter what ernest answered, that there could be no reasonable and good explanation for what he had caught graves doing. "you sneak!" he cried. "what are you doing here--spying on us?" he sprang forward, and graves, with a snarling cry of anger, lunged to meet him. had he not been handicapped by his lame ankle, harry might have given a good account of himself in a hand-to-hand fight with graves, but, as it was, the older boy's superior weight gave him almost his own way. before jack, who was running up, could reach them, graves threw harry off. he stood looking down on him for just a second. "that's what you get for interfering, young fleming!" he said. "there's something precious queer about you, my american friend. i fancy you'll have to do some explaining about where you've been tonight." harry was struggling to his feet. now he saw the papers in graves' hand. "you thief!" he cried. "those papers belong to me! you've stolen them! give them here!" but graves only laughed in his face. "come and get them!" he taunted. and, before either of the scouts could realize what he meant to do he had started one of the motorcycles, sprung to the saddle, and started. in a moment he was out of sight, around a bend in the road. only the put-put of the motor, rapidly dying away, remained of him. but, even in that moment, the two he left behind him were busy. jack sprang to the other motorcycle, and tried to start it, but in vain. something was wrong; the motor refused to start. "that's what he was doing when i saw him first," cried harry, with a flash of inspiration. "i thought it was dick, trying to start his motor--it was graves trying to keep us from starting it! but he can't have done very much--i don't believe he had the time. we ought to be able to fix it pretty soon." "it's two miles to the repair place!" said jack, blankly. "not to this repair shop," said harry, with a laugh. the need of prompt and efficient action pulled him together. he forgot his wonder at finding graves, the pain of his ankle, everything but the instant need of being busy. he had to get that cycle going and be off in pursuit, that was all there was to it. "give me a steady light," he directed. "i think he's probably disconnected the wires of the magneto--that's what i'd do if i wanted to put a motor out of business in a hurry. and if that's all, there's no great harm done." "i don't see how you know all that!" wondered jack. "i can ride one of those things, but the best i can do is mend a puncture, if i should have one." "oh!" said dick, "it's easy enough," working while he talked. "you see, the motor itself can't be hurt unless you take an axe to it, and break it all up. but to start you've got to have a spark--and you get that from electricity. so there are these little wires that make the connection. he didn't cut them, thank heaven! he just disconnected them. if he'd cut them i might really have been up a tree because that's the sort of accident you wouldn't provide for in a repair kit." "it isn't an accident at all," said jack, literally. "that's right," said harry. "that's what i meant, too. now let's see. i think that's all. good thing we came up when we did or he'd have cut the tires to ribbons. and there are a lot of things i'd rather do than ride one of these machines on its rims--to say nothing of how long the wheels would last if one tried to go fast at all." he tried the engine; it answered beautifully. "now is there a telephone in your father's house, jack?" "sure there is. why?" for jack was plainly puzzled. "so that i can call you up, of course! i'm going after graves. later i'll tell you who he is. i'm in luck, really. he took dick's machine--and mine is a good ten miles an hour faster. i can race him and beat him but, of course, he couldn't know which was the fastest. dick's is the best looking. i suppose that's why he picked it." "but where is dick?" "that's what i'm coming to. they may have caught him but i hope not. i don't think they did, either. i think he'll come along here pretty soon. and, if he does, he'll have an awful surprise." "i'll stay here and tell him--" "you're a brick, jack! it's just what i was going to ask you to do. i can't leave word for him any other way, and i don't know what he'd think if he came here and found the cycles and all gone. then take him home with you, will you? and i'll ring you up just as soon as i can. good-bye!" and everything being settled as far as he could foresee it then, harry went scooting off into the night on his machine. as he rode, with the wind whipping into his face and eyes, and the incessant roar of the engine in his ears, he knew he was starting what was likely to prove a wild-goose chase. even if he caught graves, he didn't know what he could do, except that he meant to get back the papers. more and more, as he rode on, the mystery of graves' behavior puzzled him, worried him. he knew that graves had been sore and angry when he had not been chosen for the special duty detail. but that did not seem a sufficient reason for him to have acted as he had. he remembered, too, the one glimpse of graves they had caught before, in a place where he did not seem to belong. and then, making the mystery still deeper, and defying explanation, as it seemed to him, was the question of how graves had known, first of all, where they were, and of how he had reached the place. he had no motorcycle of his own or he would not have ridden away on dick's machine. he could not have come by train. harry's head swam with the problem that presented itself. and then, to make it worse, there was that remark graves had made. he had said harry would find it hard to explain where he had been. how did he know where they had been? why should he think it would be hard for them to explain their actions? "there isn't any answer," he said to himself. "and, if there was, i'm a juggins to be trying to find it now. i'd better keep my mind on this old machine, or it will ditch me! i know what i've got to do, anyhow, even if i don't know why." mile after mile he rode, getting the very best speed he could out of the machine. somewhere ahead of him, he was sure, riding back toward london, was graves. in this wild pursuit he was taking chances, of course. graves might have turned off the road almost anywhere. but if he had done that, there was nothing to be done about it, that much was certain. he could only keep on with the pursuit, hoping that his quarry was following the straight road toward london. and, to be sure, there was every reason for him to hope just that. by this time it was very late. no one was abroad, the countryside was asleep. once or twice he did find someone in the streets of a village as he swept through, then he stopped, and asked it a man on another motorcycle had passed ahead of him. two or three times the yokel he questioned didn't know, twice, however, he did get a definite assurance that graves was ahead of him. somehow he never thought of the outrageously illegal speed he was making. he knew the importance of his errand, and that, moreover, he was a menace to nothing but the sleep of those he disturbed. no one was abroad to get in his way, and he forgot utterly that there might be need for caution, until, as he went through a fair sized town, he suddenly saw three policemen, two of whom were also mounted on motorcycles, waiting for him. they waved their arms, crying out to him to stop, and, seeing that he was trapped, he did stop. "let me by," he cried, angrily. "i'm on government service!" "another of them?" one of the policemen looked doubtfully at the rest. "too many of you telling that tale tonight. and the last one said there was a scorcher behind him. have you got any papers? he had them!" harry groaned! so graves had managed to strike at him, even when he was miles away. evidently he, too, had been held up, evidently, also, he had used harry's credentials to get out of the scrape speeding had put him in. "no, i haven't any credentials," he said, angrily. "but you can see my uniform, can't you? i'm a boy scout, and we're all under government orders now, like soldiers or sailors." "that's too thin, my lad," said the policeman who seemed to be recognized as the leader. "everyone, we've caught for speeding too fast since the war began has blamed it on the war. we'll have to take you along, my boy. they telephoned to us from places you passed--they said you were going so fast it was dangerous. and we saw you ourselves." in vain harry pleaded. now that he knew that graves had used his credentials from colonel throckmorton, he decided that it would be foolish to claim his own identity. graves had assumed that, and he had had the practically conclusive advantage of striking the first blow. so harry decided to submit to the inevitable with the best grace he could muster. "all right," he said. "i'll go along with you, officer. but you'll be sorry before it's over!" "maybe, sir," said the policeman. "but orders is orders, sir, and i've got to obey them. not that i likes running a young gentleman like yourself in. but--" "oh, i know you're only doing your duty, as you see it, officer," he said. "can't be helped--but i'm sorry. it's likely to cause a lot of trouble." so he surrendered. but, even while he was doing so, he was planning to escape from custody. chapter x a good witness dick's surprise and concern when he found the cache empty and deserted, with papers and motorcycles alike gone, may be imagined. for a moment he thought he must be mistaken, that, after all, he had come to the wrong place. but a quick search of the ground with his flashlight showed him that he had come to the right spot. he could see the tracks made by the wheels of the machine; he could see, also, evidences of the brief struggle between harry and graves. for a moment his mystification continued. but then, with a low laugh, jack young emerged from the cover in which he had been hiding. "hello, there!" he said. "i say, are you dick mercer?" "yes!" gasped dick. "but however do you know? i never saw you before!" "well, you see me now," said jack. "harry fleming told me to look for you here. he said you'd be along some time tonight, if you got away. and he was sure you could get away, too." "harry!" said dick, dazed. "you've seen him? where is he? did he get away? and what happened to the cycles and the papers we hid there? why--" "hold on! one question at a time," said jack. "keep your shirt on, and i'll tell you all i know about it. then we can decide what is to be done next. i think i'll attach myself temporarily to your patrol." "oh, you're a scout, too, are you?" asked dick. that seemed to explain a good deal. he was used to having scouts turn up to help him out of trouble. and so he listened as patiently as he could, while jack explained what had happened. "and that's all i know," said jack, finally, when he had carried the tale to the point where harry rode off on the repaired motorcycle in pursuit of ernest graves. "i should think you might really know more about it now than i do." "why, how could i? you saw it all!" "yes, that's true enough. but you know harry and i were too busy to talk much after we found that motor was out of order. all i know is that when we got here we found someone i'd never seen before and never want to see again messing about with the cycles. we thought it must be you, of course--at least harry did, and of course i supposed he ought to know." "and then you found it was ernest graves?" "harry did. he took one look at him and then they started right in fighting. harry seemed to be sure that was the thing to do. if i'd been in his place i'd have tried to arbitrate i think. this chap graves was a lot bigger than he. he was carrying weight for age. you see, i don't know yet who graves is, or why harry wanted to start fighting him that way. i've been waiting patiently for you to come along, so that you could tell me." "he's a sneak!" declared dick, vehemently. "i suppose you know that harry's an american, don't you?" "yes, but that's nothing against him." "of course it isn't! but this graves is the biggest and oldest chap in our troop--he isn't in our patrol. and he thought that if any of us were going to be chosen for special service, he ought to have the first chance. so when they picked harry and me, he began talking about harry's being an american. he tried to act as if he thought it wasn't safe for anyone who wasn't english to be picked out!" "it looks as if he had acted on that idea, too, doesn't it, then? it seems to me that he has followed you down here, just to get a chance to play some trick on you. he got those papers, you see. and i fancy you'll be blamed for losing them." "how did he know we were here?" said dick, suddenly. "that's what i'd like to know!" "yes, it would be a good thing to find that out," said jack, thoughtfully. "well, it will be hard to do. but we might find out how he got here. i know this village and the country all around here pretty well. and gaffer hodge will know, if anyone does. he's the most curious man in the world. come on--we'll see what he has to say." "who is he?" asked dick, as they began to walk briskly toward the village. "you went through the village this afternoon, didn't you? didn't you see a very old man with white hair and a stick beside him, sitting in a doorway next to the little shop by the red dog?" "yes." "that's gaffer hodge. he's the oldest man in these parts. he can remember the crimean war and--oh, everything! he must be over a hundred years old. and he watches everyone who comes in. if a stranger is in the village he's never happy until he knows all about him. he was awfully worried today about you and harry, i heard," explained jack. dick laughed heartily. "well, i do hope he can tell us something about graves. the sneak! i certainly hope harry catches up to him. do you think he can?" "well, he might, if he was lucky. he said the cycle he was riding was faster than the other. but of course it would be very hard to tell just which to way to go. if graves knew there was a chance that he might be followed he ought to be able to give anyone who was even a mile behind the slip." "of course it's at night and that makes it harder for harry." "yes, i suppose it does. in the daytime harry could find people to tell him which way graves was going, couldn't he?" "yes. that's just what i meant." "oh, i say, won't gaffer hodge be in bed and asleep?" "i don't think so. he doesn't seem to like to go to bed. he sits up very late, and talks to the men when they start to go home from the red dog. he likes to talk, you see. we'll soon know--that's one thing. we'll be there now in no time." sure enough, the old man was still up when they arrived. he was just saying goodnight, in a high, piping voice, to a little group of men who had evidently been having a nightcap in the inn next to his house. when he saw jack he smiled. they were very good friends, and the old man had found the boy one of his best listeners. the gaffer liked to live in the past, he was always delighted when anyone would let him tell his tales of the things he remembered. "good-evening, gaffer," said jack, respectfully. "this is my friend, dick mercer. he's a boy scout from london." "knew it! knew it!" said gaffer hodge, with a senile chuckle. "i said they was from lunnon this afternoon when i seen them fust! glad to meet you, young master." then jack described graves as well as he could from his brief sight of him, and dick helped by what he remembered. "did you see him come into town this afternoon, gaffer?" asked jack. "let me think," said the old man. "yes--i seen 'un. came sneaking in, he did, this afternoon as ever was! been up to the big house at bray park, he had. came in an automobile, he did. then he went back there. but he was in the post office when you and t'other young lad from lunnon went by, maister," nodding his head as if well pleased. this was to dick, and he and jack stared at one another. certainly their visit to gaffer hodge had paid them well. "are you sure of that, gaffer?" asked jack, quietly. "sure that it was an automobile from bray park?" "sure as ever was!" said the old man, indignantly. like all old people, he hated anyone to question him, resenting the idea that anyone could think he was mistaken. "didn't i see the machine myself--a big grey one, with black stripes as ever was, like all their automobiles?" "that's true--that's the way their cars are painted, and they have five or six of them," said jack. "yes. and he come in the car from lunnon before he went there--and then he come out here. he saw you and t'other young lad from lunnon go by, maister, on your bicycles. he was watching you from the shop as ever was." "thank you, gaffer," said jack, gravely. "you've told us just what we wanted to know. i'll bring you some tobacco in the morning, if you like. my father's just got a new lot down from london." "thanks, thank'ee kindly," said the gaffer, overjoyed at the prospect. then they said good-night to the old man, who, plainly delighted at the thought that he had been of some service to them, and at this proof of his sharpness, of which he was always boasting, rose and hobbled into his house. "he's really a wonderful old man," said dick. "he certainly is," agreed jack. "his memory seems to be as good as ever, and he's awfully active, too. he's got rheumatism, but he can see and hear as well as he ever could, my father says." they walked on, each turning over in his mind what they had heard about graves. "that's how he knew we were here," said dick finally. "i've been puzzling about that. i remember now seeing that car as we went by. but of course i didn't pay any particular attention to it, except that i saw a little american flag on it." "yes, they're supposed to be americans, you know," said jack. "and i suppose they carry the flag so that the car won't be taken for the army. the government has requisitioned almost all the cars in the country, you know." "i'm almost afraid to think about this," said dick, after a moment of silence. "graves must know those people in that house, if he's riding about in their car. and they--" he paused, and they looked at one another. "i don't know what to do!" said dick. "i wish there was some way to tell harry about what we've found out," jack started. "i nearly forgot!" he said. "we'd better cut for my place. i told harry we'd be there if he needed a telephone, you know. come on!" chapter xi the first blow to harry, as he was taken off to the police station, it seemed the hardest sort of hard luck that his chase of graves should be interrupted at such a critical time and just because he had been over-speeding. but he realized that he was helpless, and that he would only waste his breath if he tried to explain matters until he was brought before someone who was really in authority. then, if he had any luck, he might be able to clear things up. but the men who arrested him were only doing their duty as they saw it, and they had no discretionary power at all. when he reached the station he was disappointed to find that no one was on duty except a sleepy inspector, who was even less inclined to listen to reason than the constables. "everyone who breaks the law has a good excuse, my lad," he said. "if we listened to all of them we might as well close up this place. you can tell your story to the magistrate in the morning. you'll be well treated tonight, and you're better off with us than running around the country--a lad of your age! if i were your father, i should see to it that you were in bed and asleep before this." there was no arguing with such a man, especially when he was sleepy. so harry submitted, very quietly, to being put into a cell. he was not treated like a common prisoner, that much he was grateful for. his cell was really a room, with windows that were not even barred. and he saw that he could be very comfortable indeed. "you'll be all right here," said one of the constables. "don't worry, my lad. you'll be let off with a caution in the morning. get to sleep now--it's late, and you'll be roused bright and early in the morning." harry smiled pleasantly, and thanked the man for his good advice. but he had no intention whatever of taking it. he did not even take off his clothes, though he did seize the welcome chance to us the washstand that was in the room. he had been through a good deal since his last chance to wash and clean up, and he was grimmy and dirty. he discovered, too, that he was ravenously hungry. until that moment, he had been too active, too busy with brain and body, to notice his hunger. however, there was nothing to be done for that now. he and dick had not stopped for meals that day since breakfast, and they had eaten their emergency rations in the early afternoon. in the tool case on his impounded motorcycle, harry knew there were condensed food tables--each the equivalent of certain things like eggs, and steaks and chops. and there were cakes of chocolate, too, the most nourishing of foods that were small in bulk. but the knowledge did him little good now. he didn't even know where the motorcycle had been stored for the night. it had been confiscated, of course; in the morning it would be returned to him. but he didn't allow his thoughts to dwell long on the matter of food. it was vastly more important that he should get away. he had to get his news to colonel throckmorton. perhaps dick had done that. but he couldn't trust that chance. aside from that, he wanted to know what had become of dick. and, for the life of him, he didn't see how he was to get away. "if they weren't awfully sure of me, they'd have locked me up a lot more carefully than this," he reflected. "and of course it would be hard. i could get out of here easily enough." he had seen a drain pipe down which, he felt sure, he could climb. "but suppose i did," he went on, talking to himself. "i've got an idea it would land me where i could be seen from the door--and i suppose that's open all night. and, then if i got away from here, every policeman in this town would know me. they'd pick me up if i tried to get out, even if i walked." he looked out of the window. not so far away he could see a faint glare in the sky. that was london. he was already in the suburban chain that ringed the great city. this place--he did not know its name, certainly--was quite a town in itself. and he was so close to london that there was no real open country. one town or borough ran right into the next. the houses would grow fewer, thinning out, but before the gap became real, the outskirts of the next borough would be reached. straight in front of him, looking over the house tops, he could see the gleam of water. it was a reservoir, he decided. probably it constituted the water supply for a considerable section. and then, as he looked, he saw a flash--saw a great column of water rise in the air, and descend, like pictures of a cloudburst. a moment after the explosion, he heard a dull roar. and after the roar another sound. he saw the water fade out and disappear, and it was a moment before he realized what was happening. the reservoir had been blown up! and that meant more than the danger and the discomfort of an interrupted water supply. it meant an immediate catastrophe--the flooding of all the streets nearby. in england, as he knew, such reservoirs were higher than the surrounding country, as a rule. they were contained within high walls, and, after a rainy summer, such as this had been, would be full to overflowing. he was hammering at his door in a moment, and a sleepy policeman, aroused by the sudden alarm, flung it open as he passed on his way to the floor below. harry rushed down, and mingled, unnoticed, with the policemen who had been off duty, but summoned now to deal with this disaster. the inspector who had received him paid no attention to him at all. "out with you, men!" he cried. "there'll be trouble over this--no telling but what people may be drowned. double quick, now!" they rushed out, under command of a sergeant. the inspector stayed behind, and now he looked at harry. "hullo!" he said. "how did you get out?" "i want to help!" said harry, inspired. "i haven't done anything really wrong, have i? oughtn't i be allowed to do whatever i can, now that something like this has happened?" "go along with you!" said the inspector. "all right! but you'd better come back--because we've got your motorcycle, and we'll keep that until you come back for it." but it made little difference to harry that he was, so to speak, out on bail. the great thing was that he was free. he rushed out, but he didn't make for the scene of the disaster to the reservoir, caused, as he had guessed, by some spy. all the town was pouring out now, and the streets were full of people making for the place where the explosion had occurred. it was quite easy for harry to slip through them and make for london. he did not try to get his cycle. but before he had gone very far he over took a motor lorry that had broken down. he pitched in and helped with the slight repairs it needed, and the driver invited him to ride along with him. "taking in provisions for the troops, i am," he said. "if you're going to lunnon, you might as well ride along with me. eh, tommy?" his question was addressed to a sleepy private, who was nodding on the seat beside the driver. he started now, and looked at harry. "all aboard!" he said, with a sleepy chuckle. "more the merrier, say i! up all night--that's what i've been! fine sort of war this is? do i see any fightin'? i do not! i'm a bloomin' chaperone for cabbages and cauliflowers and turnips, bless their little hearts!" harry laughed. it was impossible not to do that. but he knew that if the soldier wanted fighting, fighting he would get before long. harry could guess that regular troops--and this man was a regular--would not be kept in england as soon as the territorials and volunteers in sufficient number had joined the colors. but meanwhile guards were necessary at home. he told them, in exchange for the ride, of the explosion and the flood that had probably followed it. "bli'me!" said the soldier, surprised. "think of that, now! what will they be up to next--those germans? that's what i'd like to mow! coming over here to england and doing things like that! i'd have the law on 'em--that's what i'd do!" harry laughed. so blind to the real side of war were men who, at any moment, might find themselves face to face with the enemy! chapter xii the silent wire probably jack young and dick reached the vicarage just about the time that saw harry getting into trouble with the police for speeding. the vicar was still up, he had a great habit of reading late. and he seemed considerably surprised to find that jack was not upstairs in bed. at first he was inclined even to be angry, but he changed his mind when he saw dick, and heard something of what had happened. "get your friend something to eat and i'll have them make a hot bath ready," said the vicar. "he looks as if he needed both!" this was strictly true. dick was as hungry and as grimy as harry himself. if anything, he was in even worse shape, for his flight through the fields and the brook had enabled him to attach a good deal of the soil of england to himself. so the thick sandwiches and the bowl of milk that were speedily set before him were severely punished. and while he ate both he and jack poured out their story. mr. young frowned as he listened. although he was a clergyman and a lover of peace, he was none the less a patriot. "upon my word!" he said. "wireless, you think, my boy?" "i'm sure of it, sir," said dick. "and so'm i," chimed in jack. "you know, sir, i've thought ever since war seemed certain that bray park would bear a lot of watching and that something ought to be done. just because this is a little bit of a village, without even a railroad station, people think nothing could happen here. but if german spies wanted a headquarters, it's just the sort of place they would pick out." "there's something in that," agreed the vicar, thoughtfully. but in his own mind he was still very doubtful. the whole thing seemed incredible to him. yet, as a matter of fact, it was no more incredible than the war itself. what inclined him to be dubious, as much as anything else, was the fact that it was mere boys who had made the discovery. he had read of outbreaks of spy fever in various parts of england, in which the most harmless and inoffensive people were arrested and held until they could give some good account of themselves. this made him hesitate, while precious time was being wasted. "i hardly know what to do--what to suggest," he went on, musingly. "the situation is complicated, really. supposing you are right, and that german spies really own bray park, and are using it as a central station for sending news that they glean out of england, what could be done about it?" "the place ought to be searched at once every-one there ought to be arrested!" declared jack, impulsively. his father smiled. "yes, but who's going to do it?" he said. "we've just one constable here in bray. and if there are germans there in any number, what could he do? i suppose we might send word to harobridge and get some police or some territorials over. yes, that's the best thing to do." but now dick spoke up in great eagerness. "i don't know, sir," he suggested. "if the soldiers came, the men in the house there would find out they were coming, i'm afraid. perhaps they'd get away, or else manage to hide everything that would prove the truth about them. i think it would be better to report direct to colonel throckmorton. he knows what we found out near london, sir, you see, and he'd be more ready to believe us." "yes, probably you're right. ring him up, then. it's late, but he won't mind." what a different story there would have been to tell had someone had that thought only half an hour earlier! but it is often so. the most trivial miscalculation, the most insignificant mistake, seemingly, may prove to be of the most vital importance. dick went to the telephone. it was one of the old-fashioned sort, still in almost universal use in the rural parts of england, that require the use of a bell to call the central office. dick turned the crank, then took down the receiver. at once he herd a confused buzzing sound that alarmed him. "i'm afraid the line is out of order, sir," he said. and after fifteen minutes it was plain that he was right. the wire had either been cut or it had fallen or been short circuited in some other way. dick and jack looked at one another blankly. the same thought had come to each of them, and at the same moment. "they've cut the wires!" said dick. "now what shall we do? we can't hear from harry, either!" "we might have guessed they'd do that!" said jack. "they must have had some one out to watch us, dick--perhaps they thought they'd have a chance to catch us. they know that we've found out something, you see! it's a good thing we stayed where we could make people hear us if we got into any trouble." "oh, nonsense!" said the vicar, suddenly. "you boys are letting your imaginations run away with you. things like that don't happen in england. the wire is just out of order. it happens often enough, jack, as you know very well!" "yes, sir," said jack, doggedly. "but that's in winter, or after a heavy storm--not in fine weather like this. i never knew the wire to be out of order before when it was the way it is now." "well, there's nothing to be done, in any case," said the vicar. "be off to bed, and wait until morning. there's nothing you can do now." dick looked as if he were about to make some protest, but a glance at jack restrained him. instead he got up, said good-night and followed jack upstairs. there he took his bath, except that he substituted cold water for the hot, for he could guess what jack meant to do. they were going out again, that was certain. and, while it is easy to take cold, especially when one is tired, after a hot bath, there is no such danger if the water is cold. "do you know where the telephone wire runs?" he asked jack. "yes, i do," said jack. "i watched the men when they ran the wire in. there are only three telephones in the village, except for the one at bray park, and that's a special, private wire. we have one here, doctor brunt has one, and there's another in the garage. they're all on one party line, too. we won't have any trouble in finding out if the wire was cut, i fancy." their chief difficulty lay in getting out of the house. true, jack had not been positively ordered not to go out again, but he knew that if his father saw him, he would be ordered to stay in. and he had not the slightest intention of missing any part of the finest adventure he had ever had a chance to enjoy--not he! he was a typical english boy, full of the love of adventure and excitement for their own sake, even if he was the son of a clergyman. and now he showed dick what they would have to do. "i used to slip out this way, sometimes," he said. "that was before i was a scout. i--well, since i joined, i haven't done it. it didn't seem right. but this is different. don't you think so, dick?" "i certainly do," said dick. "your pater doesn't understand, jack. he thinks we've just found a mare's nest, i fancy." jack's route of escape was not a difficult one. it led to the roof of the scullery, at the back of the house, and then, by a short and easy drop of a few feet, to the back garden. once they were in that, they had no trouble. they could not be heard or seen from the front of the house, and it was a simple matter of climbing fences until it was safe to circle back and strike the road in front again. jack led the way until they came to the garage, which was at the end of the village, in the direction of london. their course also took them nearer to bray park, but at the time they did not think of this. "there's where the wire starts from the garage, d'ye see!" said jack, pointing. "you see how easily we can follow it--it runs along those poles, right beside the road." "it seems to be all right here," said dick. "oh, yes. they wouldn't have cut it so near the village," said jack. "we'll have to follow it along for a bit, i fancy a mile or so, perhaps. better not talk much, either. and, i say, hadn't we better stay in the shadow? they must have been watching us before--better not give them another chance, if we can help it," was jack's very wise suggestion. they had traveled nearly a mile when dick suddenly noticed that the telephone wire sagged between two posts, "i think it has been. cut--and that we're near the place, too," he said then, "look, jack! there's probably a break not far from here." "right, oh!" said jack. "now we must be careful. i've just thought, dick, that they might have left someone to watch at the place where they cut the wire." "why, jack?" "well, they might have thought we, or someone else, might come along to find out about it, just as we're doing. i'm beginning to think those beggars are mightily clever, and that if they think of doing anything, they're likely to think that we'll think of it. they've outwitted us at every point so far." so now, instead of staying under the hedge, but still in the road, they crept through a gap in the hedge, tearing their clothes as they did so, since it was a blackberry row, and went along still in sight of the poles and the wire, but protected by the hedge so that no one in the road could see them. "there!" said jack, at last. "see? you were right, dick. there's the place--and the wire was cut, too! it wasn't an accident. but i was sure of that as soon as i found the line wasn't working." sure enough, the wires were dangling. and there was something else. just as they stopped they heard the voices of two men. "there's the break, bill," said the first voice. "bli'me, if she ain't cut, too! now who did that? bringing us out of our beds at this hour to look for trouble!" "i'd like to lay my hands on them, that's all!" said the second voice. "a good job they didn't carry the wire away--'twon't take us long to repair, and that's one precious good thing!" "linemen," said jack. "but i wonder why they're here? they must have come a long way. i shouldn't be surprised if they'd ridden on bicycles. and i never heard of their sending to repair a wire at night before." "listen," said dick. "perhaps we will find out." "well, now that we've found it, we might as well repair it," said the first lineman, grumblingly. "all comes of someone trying to get a message through to bray and making the manager believe it was a life and death matter!" "harry must have tried to telephone--that's why they've come," said jack. "i was wondering how they found out about the break. you see, as a rule, no one would try to ring up anyone in bray after seven o'clock or so. and of course, they couldn't tell we were trying to ring, with the wire cut like that." "oh, jack!" said dick, suddenly. 'if they're linemen, i believe they have an instrument with them. probably we could call to london from here. do you think they will let us do that?" "that's a good idea. we'll try it, anyway," said jack. "come on. it must be safe enough now. these chaps won't hurt us." but jack was premature in thinking that. for no sooner did the two linemen see them than they rushed for them, much to both lads' surprise. "you're the ones who cut that wire," said the first, a dark, young fellow. "i've a mind to give you a good hiding!" but they both rushed into explanations, and luckily, the other lineman recognized jack. "it's the vicar's son from bray, tom," he said. "let him alone." and then, while their attention was distracted, a bullet sang over their heads. and "hands oop!" said in a guttural voice. chapter xiii a treacherous deed harry fleming had, of course, given up all hope of catching graves by a direct pursuit by the time he accepted the offer of a ride in the motor truck that was carrying vegetables for the troops in quarters in london. his only hope now was to get his information to colonel throckmorton as soon as possible. at the first considerable town they reached, where he found a telegraph office open, he wired to the colonel, using the code which he had memorized. the price of a couple of glasses of beer had induced the driver and the soldier to consent to a slight delay of the truck, and he tried also to ring up jack young's house and find out what had happened to dick. when he found that the line was out of order he leaped at once to the same conclusion that jack and dick had reached--that it had been cut on purpose. he could not stay to see if it would be repaired soon. a stroke of luck came his way, however. in this place boy scouts were guarding the gas works and an electric light and power plant, and he found one squad just coming off duty. he explained something of his errand to the patrol leader, and got the assurance that the telephone people should be made to repair the break in the wire. "we'll see to it that they find out what is the trouble, fleming," said the patrol leader, whose name was burridge. "by the way, i know a scout in your troop--graves. he was on a scout with us a few weeks ago, when he was visiting down here. seemed to be no end of a good fellow." harry was surprised for he had heard nothing of this before. but then that was not strange. he and graves were not on terms of intimacy, by any means. he decided quickly not to say anything against graves. it could do no good and it might do harm. "right," he said. "i know him--yes. i'll be going, then. you'll give my message to mercer or young if there's any way of getting the line clear?" "yes, if i sit up until my next turn of duty," said burridge, with a smile. "good luck, fleming." then harry was off again. dawn was very near now. the east, behind him, was already lighted up with streaks of glowing crimson. dark clouds were massed there, and there was a feeling in the air that carried a foreboding of rain, strengthening the threat of the red sky. harry was not sorry for that. there would be work at bray park that might well fare better were it done under leaden skies. as he rode he puzzled long and hard over what he had learned. it seemed to him that these german spies were taking desperate chances for what promised to be, at best, a small reward. what information concerning the british plans could they get that would be worth all they were risking? the wireless at bray park, the central station near willesden, whence the reports were heliographed--it was an amazingly complete chain. and harry knew enough of modern warfare to feel that the information could be important only to an enemy within striking distance. that was the point. it might be interesting to the german staff to know the locations of british troops in england, and, more especially, their destinations if they were going abroad as part of an expeditionary force to france or belgium. but the information would not be vital, it didn't seem to harry that it was worth all the risk implied. but if, on the other hand, there was some plan for a german invasion of england, then he would have no difficulty in understanding it. then knowledge of where to strike, of what points were guarded and what were not, would be invaluable. "but what a juggins i am!" he said. "they can't invade england, even if they could spare the troops. not while the british fleet controls the sea. they'd have to fly over." and with that half laughing expression he got the clue he was looking for. fly over! why not? flight was no longer a theory, a possibility of the future. it war, something definite, that had arrived. even as he thought of the possibility he looked up and saw, not more than a mile away, two monoplanes of a well-known english army type flying low. "i never thought of that!" he said to himself. and now that the idea had come to him, he began to work out all sorts of possibilities. he thought of a hundred different things that might happen. he could see, all at once, the usefulness bray park might have. why, the place was like a volcano! it might erupt at any minute, spreading ruin and destruction in all directions. it was a hostile fortress, set down in the midst of a country that, even though it was at war, could not believe that war might come borne to it. he visualized, as the truck kept in its plodding way, the manner in which warfare might be directed from a center like bray park. thence aeroplanes, skillfully fashioned to represent the british planes, and so escape quick detection, might set forth. they could carry a man or two, elude guards who thought the air lanes safe, and drop bombs here, there everywhere and anywhere. perhaps some such aerial raid was responsible for the explosion that had freed him only a very few hours before. warfare in england, carried on thus by a few men, would be none the less deadly because it would not involve fighting. there would be no pitched battles, that much he knew. instead, there would be swift, stabbing raids. water works, gas works, would be blown up. attempts would be made to drop bombs in barracks, perhaps. certainly every effort would be made to destroy the great warehouses in which food was stored. it was new, this sort of warfare, it defied the imagination. and yet it was the warfare that, once he thought of it, it seemed certain that the germans would wage. he gritted his teeth at the thought of it. perhaps all was fair in love and war, as the old proverb said. but this seemed like sneaky, unfair fighting to him. there was nothing about it of the glory of warfare. he was learning for himself that modern warfare is an ugly thing. he was to learn, later, that it still held its possibilities of glory, and of heroism. indeed, for that matter, he was willing to grant the heroism of the men who dared these things that seemed to him so horrible. they took their lives in their hands, knowing that if they were caught they would be hung as spies. the truck was well into london now, and the dawn was full. a faint drizzle was beginning to fall and the streets were covered with a fine film of mud. people were about, and london was arousing itself to meet the new day. harry knew that he was near his journey's end. tired as he was, he was determined to make his report before he thought of sleep. and then, suddenly, around a bend, came a sight that brought harry to his feet, scarcely able to believe his eyes. it was graves, on a bicycle. at the sight of harry on the truck he stopped. then he turned. "here he is!" he cried. "that's the one!" a squad of men on cycles, headed by a young officer, came after graves. "stop!" called the officer to the driver. harry stared down, wondering. "you there--you boy scout come down!" said the officer. harry obeyed, wondering still more. he saw the gleam of malignant triumph on the face of graves. but not even the presence of the officer restrained him. "where are those papers you stole from me, you sneak?" he cried. "you keep away from me!" said graves. "you yankee!" "here, no quarreling!" said the officer. "take him, men!" two of the soldiers closed in on harry. he stared at them and then at the officer, stupefied. "what--what's this?" he stammered. "you're under arrest, my lad, on a charge of espionage!" said the officer. "espionage, and conspiracy to give aid and comfort to the public enemy. anything you say may be used against you." for a moment such a rush of words came to harry, that he was silent by the sheer inability to decide which to utter first. but then he got control of himself. "who makes this charge against me!" he asked, thickly, his face flushing scarlet in anger. "you'll find that out in due time, my lad. forward march!" "but i've got important information! i must be allowed to see colonel throckmorton at once! oh, you've got no idea how important it may be!" "my orders are to place you under arrest. you can make application to see anyone later. but now i have no discretion. come! if you really want to see colonel throckmorton, you had better move on." harry knew as well as anyone the uselessness of appealing from such an order, but he was frantic. realizing the importance of the news he carried, and beginning to glimpse vaguely the meaning of graves and his activity, he was almost beside himself. "make graves there give back the papers he took from me!" he cried. "i did take some papers, lieutenant," said graves, with engaging frankness. "but they were required to prove what i had suspected almost from the first--that he was a spy. he was leading an english scout from his own patrol into trouble, too. i suppose he thought he was more likely to escape suspicion if he was with an englishman." "it's not my affair," said the lieutenant, shrugging his shoulders. he turned to harry. "come along, my lad. i hope you can clear yourself. but i've only one thing to do--and that is to obey my orders." harry gave up, then, for the moment. he turned and began walking along, a soldier on each side. but as he did so graves turned to the lieutenant. "i'll go and get my breakfast, then, sir," he said. "i'll come on to ealing later. though, of course, they know all i can tell them already." "all right," said the officer, indifferently. "you're never going to let him go!" exclaimed harry, aghast. "don't you know he'll never come back?" "all the better for you, if he doesn't," said the officer. "that's enough of your lip, my lad. keep a quiet tongue in your head. remember you're a prisoner, and don't try giving orders to me." chapter xiv the trap the bullet that sang over their heads effectually broke up the threatened trouble between dick mercer and jack young on one side, and the telephone linemen on the other. with one accord they obeyed that guttural order, "hands oop!" they had been so interested in one another and in the cut wire that none of them had noticed the practically noiseless approach of a great grey motor car, with all lights out, that had stolen up on them. but now, with a groan, dick and jack both knew it for one of the bray park cars. so, after all, dick's flight had been in vain. he had escaped the guards of bray park once, only to walk straight into this new trap. and, worst of all, there would be no jack young outside to help this time, for jack was a captive, too. only--he was not! at the thought dick had turned, to discover that jack was not beside him. it was very dark, but in a moment he caught the tiniest movement over the hedge, and saw a spot a little darker than the rest of the ground about it. jack, he saw at once had taken the one faint chance there was, dropped down, and crawled away, trusting that their captures had not counted their party, and might not miss the boy. just in time he slipped through a hole in the hedge. the next moment one of the headlights in the grey motor flashed out, almost blinding the the rest of them, as they held up their hands. in its light from the car, four men, well armed with revolvers, were revealed. "donnerwetter!" said one. "i made sure there were four of them! so! vell, it is enough. into the car with them!" no pretence about this chap! he was german, and didn't care who knew it. he was unlike the man who had disguised himself as an english officer, at the house of the heliograph, but had betrayed himself and set this whole train of adventure going by his single slip and fall from idiomatic english that harry fleming's sharp ears had caught. dick was thrilled, somehow, even while he was being roughly bundled toward the motor. if these fellows were as bold as this, cutting telephone wires, driving about without lights, giving up all secrecy and pretence, it must mean that the occasion for which they had come was nearly over. it must mean that their task, whatever it might be, was nearly accomplished--the blow they had come to strike was about ready to be driven home. "'ere, who are you a shovin' off?" complained one of the linemen, as he was pushed toward the motor. he made some effort to resist but the next moment he pitched forward. one of the germans had struck him on the head with the butt of his revolver. it was a stunning blow, and the man was certainly silenced. dick recoiled angrily from the sight, but he kept quiet. he knew he could do no good by interfering. but the sheer, unnecessary brutality of it shocked and angered him. he felt that englishmen, or americans, would not treat a prisoner so--especially one who had not been fighting. these men were not even soldiers, they were spies, which made the act the more outrageous. they were serving their country, however, for all that, and that softened dick's feeling toward them a little. true, they were performing their service in a sneaky, underhanded way that went against his grain. but it was service, and he knew that england, too, probably used spies, forced to do so for self-defence. he realized the value of the spy's work, and the courage that work required. if these men were captured they would not share the fate of those surrendering in battle but would be shot, or hung, without ceremony. a minute later he was forced into the tonneau of the car, where he lay curled up on the floor. two of the germans sat in the cushioned seat while the two linemen, the one who had been hit still unconscious, were pitched in beside him. the other two germans were in front, and the car began to move at a snail's pace. the man beside the driver began speaking in german, his companion replied. but one of the two behind interrupted, sharply. "speak english, dummer kerl he exclaimed, angrily. "these english people have not much sense, but if a passerby should hear us speaking german, he would be suspicious. our words he cannot hear and if they are in english he will think all is well." "this is one of those we heard of this afternoon," said the driver. "this boy scout. the other is riding to london--but he will not go, so far." he laughed at that, and dick, knowing he was speaking of harry, shuddered. "ja, that is all arranged," said the leader, with a chuckle. "not for long that could not be. but we need only a few hours more. by this time tomorrow morning all will be done. he comes, von wedel?" "we got the word tonight--yes," said the other man. "all is arranged for him. ealing-houndsditch, first. there are the soldiers. then buckingham palace. ah, what a lesson we shall teach these english! then the buildings at whitehall. we shall strike at the heart of their empire the heart and the brains!" dick listened, appalled. did they think, then, that he, a boy, could not understand? or were they so sure of success that it did not matter? as a matter of fact, he did not fully understand. who was von wedel? what was he going to do when he came? and how was he coming? however, it was not the time for speculation. there was the chance that any moment they might say something he would understand, and, moreover, if he got away, it was possible that he might repeat what he heard to those who would be able to make more use of it. just then the leader's foot touched dick, and he drew away. the german looked down at him, and laughed. "frightened!" he said. "we won't hurt you! what a country that sends its children out against us!" his manner was kindly enough, and dick felt himself warming a little to the big man in spite of himself. "listen, boy," said the leader. "you have seen things that were not for your eyes. so you are to be put where knowledge of them will do no harm--for a few hours. then you can go. but until we have finished our work, you must be kept. you shall not be hurt--i say it." dick did not answer. he was thinking hard. he wondered if jack would try to rescue him. they were getting very near bray park, he felt, and he thought that, once inside, neither jack nor anyone else could get him out until these men who had captured him were willing. then the car stopped suddenly. dick saw that they were outside a little house. "get out," said the leader. dick and the telephone man who had not been hurt obeyed, the other lineman was lifted out, more considerately this time. "inside!" said the german with the thick, guttural voice. he pointed to the open door, and they went inside. one of the germans followed them and stood in the open door. "werner, you are responsible for the prisoners, especially the boy," said the leader. "see that none of them escape. you will be relieved at the proper time. you understand?" "ja, herr ritter!" said the man. "zu befehl!" he saluted, and for the first time dick had the feeling that this strange procedure was, in some sense, military, even though there were no uniforms. then the door shut, and they were left in the house. it was just outside of bray park--he remembered it now. a tiny box of a place it was, too, but solidly built of stone. it might have been used as a tool house. there was one window; that and the door were the only means of egress. the german looked hard at the window and laughed. dick saw then that it was barred. to get out that way, even if he had the chance, would be impossible. and the guard evidently decided that. he lay down across the door. "so!" he said. "i shall sleep--but with one ear open! you cannot get out except across me. and i am a light sleeper!" dick sat there, pondering wretchedly. the man who had been struck on the head was breathing stertorously. his companion soon dropped off to sleep, like the german, so that dick was the only one awake. through the window, presently, came the herald of the dawn, the slowly advancing light. and suddenly dick saw a shadow against the light, looked up intently, and saw that is was jack young. jack pointed. dick, not quite understanding, moved to the point at which he pointed. "stay there!" said jack, soundlessly. his lips formed the words but he did not utter them. he nodded up and down vehemently, however, and dick understood him, and that he was to stay where he was. he nodded in return, and settled down in his new position. and then jack dropped out of sight. for a long time, while the dawn waxed and the light through the window grew stronger, dick sat there wondering. only the breathing of the three men disturbed the quiet of the little hut. but then, from behind him, he grew conscious of a faint noise. not quite a noise, either, it was more a vibration. he felt the earthen floor of the hut trembling beneath him. and then at last he understood. he had nearly an hour to wait. but at last the earth cracked and yawned where he had been sitting. he heard a faint whisper. "dig it out a little--there's a big hole underneath. you can squirm your way through. i'm going to back out now." dick obeyed, and a moment later he was working his way down, head first, through the tunnel jack had dug from the outside. he was small and slight and he got through, somehow, though he was short of breath and dirtier than he had ever been in his life when at last he was able to straighten up--free. "come on!" cried jack. "we've got no time to lose. i've got a couple of bicycles here. we'd better run for it." run for it they did, but there was no alarm. behind them was the hut, quiet and peaceful. and beyond the hut was the menace of bray park and the mysteries of which the germans had spoken in the great grey motor car. chapter xv a daring ruse harry, furious as he was when he saw graves allowed to go off after false accusation that had caused his arrest, was still able to control himself sufficiently to think. he was beginning to see the whole plot now, or to think he saw it. he remembered things that had seemed trivial at the time of their occurrence, but that loomed up importantly now. and one of the first things he realized was that he was probably in no great danger, that the charge against him had not been made with the serious idea of securing his conviction, but simply to cause his detention for a little while, and to discredit any information he might have. he could no longer doubt that graves was in league with the spies on whose trail he and dick had fallen. and he understood that, if he kept quiet, all would soon be all right for him. but if he did that, the plans of the germans would succeed. he had already seen an example of what they could do, in the destruction of the water works. and it seemed to him that it would be a poor thing to fail in what he had undertaken simply to save himself. as soon as he reached that conclusion he knew what he must do, or, at all events, what he must try to do. for the officer who had arrested him he felt a good deal of contempt. while it was true that orders had to be obeyed, there was no reason, harry felt, why the lieutenant should not have shown some discretion. an officer of the regular army would have done so, he felt. but this man looked unintelligent and stupid. harry felt that he might safely reply on his appearance. and he was right. the officer found himself in a quandary at once. his men were mounted on cycles; harry was on foot. and harry saw that he didn't quite know what to do. finally he cut the gordian knot, as it seemed to him, by impounding a bicycle from a passing wheelman, who protested vigorously but in vain. all he got for his cycle was a scrap of paper, stating that it had been requisitioned for army use. and harry was instructed to mount this machine and ride along between two of the territorial soldiers. he had been hoping for something like that, but had hardly dared to expect it. he had fully made up his mind now to take all the risks he would run by trying to escape. he could not get clear away, that much he knew. but now he, too, like graves, needed a little time. he did not mind being recaptured in a short time if, in the meantime, he could be free to do what he wanted. as to just how he would try to get away, he did not try to plan. he felt that somewhere along the route some chance would present itself, and that it would be better to trust to that than to make some plan. he was ordered to the front of the squad--so that a better eye could be kept upon him, as the lieutenant put it. harry had irritated him by his attempts to cause a change in the disposition of graves and himself, and the officer gave the impression now that he regarded harry as a desperate criminal, already tried and convicted. harry counted upon the traffic, sure to increase as it grew later, to give him his chance. something accidental, he knew, there must be, or he would not be able to get away. and it was not long before his chance came. as they crossed a wide street there was a sudden outburst of shouting. a runaway horse, dragging a delivery cart, came rushing down on the squad, and in a moment it was broken up and confused. harry seized the chance. his bicycle, by a lucky chance, was a high geared machine and before anyone knew he had gone he had turned a corner. in a moment he threw himself off the machine, dragged it into a shop, ran out, and in a moment dashed into another shop, crowded with customers. and there for a moment, he stayed. there was a hue and cry outside. he saw uniformed men, on bicycles, dashing by. he even rushed to the door with the crowd in the shop to see what was amiss! and, when the chase had passed, he walked out, very calmly, though his heart was in his mouth, and quite unmolested got aboard a passing tram car. he was counting on the stupidity and lack of imagination of the lieutenant, and his course was hardly as bold as it seemed. as a matter of fact it was his one chance to escape. he knew what the officer would think--that, being in flight, he would try to get away as quickly as possible from the scene of his escape. and so, by staying there, he was in the one place where on one would think of looking for him! on the tram car he was fairly safe. it happened, fortunately, that he had plenty of money with him. and his first move, when he felt it was safe, was to get off the tram and look for a cab. he found a taxicab in a short time, one of those that had escaped requisition by the government, and in this he drove to an outfitting shop, were he bought new clothes. he reasoned that he would be looked for all over, and that if, instead of appearing as a boy scout in character dress of the organization, he was in ordinary clothes, he would have a better chance. he managed the change easily, and then felt that it was safe for him to try and get into communication with dick. in this attempt luck was with him again. he called for the number of the vicarage at bray, only to find that the call was interrupted again at the nearest telephone center. but this time he was asked to wait, and in a minute he heard jack young's voice in his ear. "we came over to explain about the wire's being cut," said jack. "dick's all right. he's here with me. where are you? we've got to see you just as soon as we can." "in london, but i'm coming down. i'm going to try to get a motor car, too. i'm in a lot of trouble, jack--it's graves." "come on down. we'll walk out along the road towards london and meet you. we've got a lot to tell you, but i'm afraid to talk about it over the telephone." "all right! i'll keep my eyes open for you." getting a motor car was not easy. a great many had been taken by the government. but harry remembered that one was owned by a business friend of his father's, an american, and this, with some difficulty, he managed to borrow. he was known as a careful driver. he had learned to drive his father's car at home, and mr. armstrong knew it. and so, when harry explained that it was a matter of the greatest urgency, he got it--since he had established a reputation for honor that made mr. armstrong understand that when harry said a thing was urgent, urgent it must be. getting out of london was easy. if a search was being made for him--and he had no doubt that that was true--he found no evidence of it. his change of clothes was probably what saved him, for it altered his appearance greatly. so he came near to bray, and finally met his two friends. chapter xvi the cipher "what happened to you?" asked jack and dick in chorus. swiftly harry explained. he told of his arrest as a spy and of his escape. and when he mentioned the part that ernest graves had played in the affair, jack and dick looked at one another. "we were afraid of something like that, said jack. "harry, we've found out a lot of things, and we don't know what they mean! we're sure something dreadful is going to happen tonight. and we're sure, too, that bray park is going to be the centre of the trouble." "tell me what you know," said harry, crisply. "then we'll put two and two together. i say, jack, we don't want to be seen, you know. isn't there some side road that doesn't lead anywhere, where i can run in with the car while we talk?" "yes. there's a place about a quarter of a mile further on that will do splendidly," he replied. "all right. lead the way! tell me when we come to it. i've just thought of something else i ought to never have forgotten. at least, i thought of it when i took the things out of my pockets while i was changing my clothes." they soon came to the turning jack had thought of, and a run of a few hundred yards took them entirely out of sight of the main road, and to a place where they were able to feel fairly sure of not being molested. then they exchanged stories. harry told his first. then he heard of dick's escape, and of his meeting with jack. he nodded at the story they had heard from graffer hodge. "that accounts for how graves knew," he said, with much satisfaction. "what happened then?" when he heard of how they had thought too late of calling colonel throckmorton by telephone he sighed. "if you'd only got that message through before graves did his work!" he said. "he'd have had to believe you then, of course. how unlucky!" "i know," said jack. "we were frightfully sorry. and then we went out to find where the wire was cut, and then got dick. but i got away, and i managed to stay fairly close to them. i followed them when they left dick in a little stone house, as a prisoner, and i heard this--i heard them talking about getting a big supply of petrol. now what on earth do they want petrol for? they said there would still be plenty left for the automobiles--and then that they wouldn't need the cars any more, anyhow! what on earth do you make of that, harry?" "tell me the rest, then i'll tell you what i think," said harry. "how did you get dick out? and did you hear them saying anything that sounded as if it might be useful, dick?" "that was fine work!" he said, when he had heard a description of dick's rescue. "jack, you seem to be around every time one of us gets into trouble and needs help!" then dick told of the things he had overheard--the mysterious references to von wedel and to things that were to be done to the barracks at ealing and houndsditch. harry got out a pencil and paper then, and made a careful note of every name that dick mentioned. then he took a paper from his pocket. "remember this, dick?" he asked. "it's the thing i spoke of that i forgot until i came across it in my pocket this morning." "what is it, harry?" "don't you remember what we watched them heliographing some messages, and put down the morse signs? here they are. now the thing to do is to see if we can't work out the meaning of the code. if it's a code that uses words for phrases we've probably stuck, but i think its more likely to depend on inversions." "what do you mean, harry?" asked jack. "i'm sorry i don't know anything about codes and ciphers." "why, there are two main sorts of codes, jack, and, of course, thousands of variations of each of those principal kinds. in one kind the idea is to save words--in telegraphing or cabling. so the things that are likely to be said are represented by one word. for instance coal, in a mining code, might mean 'struck vein at two hundred feet level.' in the other sort of code, the letters are changed. that is done in all sorts of ways, and there are various tricks. the way to get at nearly all of them is to find out which letter or number or symbol is used most often, and to remember that in an ordinary letter e will appear almost twice as often as any other letter--in english, that is." "but won't this be in german?" "yes. that's just why i wanted those names dick heard. they are likely to appear in any message that was sent. so, if we can find words that correspond in length to those, we may be able to work it out. here goes, anyhow!" for a long time harry puzzled over the message. he transcribed the morse symbols first into english letters and found they made a hopeless and confused jumble, as he had expected. the key to the letter e was useless, as he had also expected. but finally, by making himself think in german, he began to see a light ahead. and after an hour's hard work he gave a cry of exultation. "i believe i've got it!" he cried. "listen and see if this doesn't sound reasonable!" "go ahead!" said jack and dick, eagerly. "here it is," said harry. "petrol just arranged. supply on way. reach bray friday. von wedel may come. red light markers arranged. ealing houndsditch buckingham admiralty war office. closing." they stared at him, mystified. "i suppose it does make sense," said dick. "but what on earth does it mean, harry? "oh, can't you see?" cried harry. "von wedel is a commander of some sort--that's plain, isn't it? and he's to carry out a raid, destroying or attacking the places that are mentioned! how can he do that? he can't be a naval commander. he can't be going to lead troops, because we know they can't land. then how can he get here? and why should he need petrol?" they stared at him blankly. then, suddenly, dick understood. "he'll come through the air!" he cried. "yes, in one of their big zeppelins!" said harry. "i suppose she has been cruising off the coast. she's served as a wireless relay station, too. the plant here at bray park could reach her, and she could relay the message on across the north sea, to helgoland or wilhelmshaven. she's waited until everything was ready." "that what they mean by the red light markers, then?" "yes. they could be on the roofs of houses, and masked, so that they wouldn't be seen except from overhead. they'd be in certain fixed positions, and the men on the zeppelins would be able to calculate their aim, and drop their bombs so many degrees to the left or right of the red marking lights." "but we've got aeroplanes flying about, haven't we?" said jack. "wouldn't they see those lights and wonder about them?" "yes, if they were showing all the time. but you can depend on it that these germans have provided for all that. they will have arranged for the zeppelin to be above the position, as near as they can guess them, at certain times--and the lights will only be shown at those times, and then only for a few seconds. even if someone else sees them, you see, there won't be time to do anything." "you must be right, harry!" said jack, nervously. "there's no other way to explain that message. how are we going to stop them?" "i don't know yet, but we'll have to work out some way of doing it. it would be terrible for us to know what had been planned and still not be able to stop them! i wish i knew were graves was. i'd like to ..." he stopped, thinking hard. "what good would that do?" "oh, i don't want him--not just now. but i don't want him to see me just at present. i want to know where he is so that i can avoid him." "suppose i scout into bray?" suggested jack. "i can find out something that might be useful, perhaps. if any of them from bray park have come into the village today i'll hear about it." "that's a good idea. suppose you do that, jack. i don't know just what i'll do yet. but if i go away from here before you come back, dick will stay. i've got to think--there must be some way to beat them!" chapter xvii a capture from the skies jack went off to see what he could discover, and harry, left behind with dick, racked his brains for some means of blocking the plan he was so sure the germans had made. he was furious at graves, who had discredited him with colonel throckmorton, as he believed. he minded the personal unpleasantness involved far less than the thought that his usefulness was blocked, for he felt that not information he might bring would be received now. as he looked around it seemed incredible that such things as he was trying to prevent could even be imagined. after the early rain, the day had cleared up warm and lovely, and it was now the most perfect of things, a beautiful summer day in england. the little road they had taken was a sort of blind alley. it had brought them to a meadow, whence the hay had already been cut. at the far side of this ran a little brook, and all about them were trees. except for the call of birds, and the ceaseless hum of insects, there was no sound to break the stillness. it was a scene of peaceful beauty that could not be surpassed anywhere in the world. and yet, only a few miles away, at the most, were men who were planning deliberately to bring death and destruction upon helpless enemies--to rain down death from the skies. by very contrast to the idyllic peace of all about them, the terrors of war seemed more dreadful. that men who went to war should be killed and wounded, bad though it was, still seemed legitimate. but his driving home of an attack upon a city all unprepared, upon the many non-combatants who would be bound to suffer, was another and more dreadful thing. harry could understand that it was war, that it was permissible to do what these germans were planned. and yet-- his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden change in the quality of the noisy silence that the insects made. just before he noticed it, half a dozen bees had been humming near him. now he heard something that sounded like the humming of a far vaster bee. suddenly it stopped, and, as it did, he looked up, his eyes as well as dick's being drawn upward at the same moment. and they saw, high above them, an aeroplane with dun colored wings. its engine had stopped and it was descending now in a beautiful series of volplaning curves. "out of essense--he's got to come down," said harry, appraisingly, to dick. "he'll manage it all right, too. he knows his business through and through, that chap." "i wonder where he'll land," speculated dick. "he's got to pick an open space, of course," said harry. "and there aren't so many of them around here. by jove!" "look! he's certainly coming down fast!" exclaimed dick. "yes--and, i say, i think he's heading for this meadow! come on--start that motor, dick!" "why? don't you want him to see us?" "i don't mind him seeing us--i don't want him to see the car," explained harry. "we'll run it around that bend, out of sight from the meadow." "why shouldn't he see it?" "because if he's out of petrol, he'll want to take all we've got and we may not want him to have it. we don't know who he is, yet." the car was moving as harry explained. as soon as the meadow was out of sight, harry stopped the engine and got out of the car. "he may have seen it as he was coming down--the car, i mean," he said. "but i doubt it. he's got other things to watch. that meadow for one--and all his levers and his wheel. guiding an aeroplane in a coast like that down the air is no easy job." "have you ever been up, harry?" "yes, often. i've never driven one myself, but i believe i could if i had to. i've watched other people handle them so often that i know just about everything that has to be done. "that's an english monoplane. i've seen them ever so often," said dick. "it's an army machine, i mean. see it's number? it's just coming in sight of us now. wouldn't you like to fly her though?" "i'd like to know what it's doing around here," said harry. "and it seems funny to me if an english army aviator has started out without enough petrol in his tank to see him through any flight he might be making. and wouldn't he have headed for one of his supply stations as soon as he found out he was running short, instead of coming down in country like this?" dick stared at him. "do you think it's another spy?" he asked. "i don't think anything about it yet, dick. but i'm not going to be caught napping. that's a bleriot--and the british army flying corps uses bleriots. but anyone with the money can buy one and make it look like an english army plane. remember that." there was no mistaking about the monoplane when it was once down. its pilot was german; he was unmistakably so. he had been flying very high and when he landed he was still stiff from the cold. "petrol!" he cried eagerly, as he saw the two boys. "where can i get petrol? quick! answer me!" harry shot a quick glance at dick. "come on," he said, beneath his breath. "we've got to get him and tie him up." the aviator, cramped and stiffened as he was by the intense cold that prevails in the high levels where he had been flying, was no match for them. as they sprang at him his face took on the most ludicrous appearance of utter surprise. had he suspected that they would attack him he might have drawn a pistol. as it was, he was helpless before the two boys, both in the pink of condition and determined to capture him. he made a struggle, but in two minutes he was laying roped, tied, and utterly helpless. he was not silent; he breathed the most fearful threats as to what would happen to them. but neither boy paid any attention to him. "we've got to get him to the car," said harry. "can we drag him?" "yes. but if we loosen his feet a little, he could walk," suggested dick. "that would be ever so much easier for him, and for us too. i should hate to be dragged. let's make him walk." "right--and a good idea!" said harry. he loosened the ropes about the aviator's feet, and helped him to stand. "march!" he said. "don't try to get away--i've got a leading rope, you see." he did have a loose end of rope, left over from a knot, and with this he proceeded to lead the enraged german to the automobile. it looked for all the world as if he were leading a dog, and for a moment dick doubled up in helpless laughter. the whole episode had it's comic side, but it was serious, too. "now we've got to draw off the gasoline in the tank in this bucket," said harry. the german had been bestowed in the tonneau, and made as comfortable as possible with rugs and cushions. his feet were securely tied again, and there was no chance for him to escape. "what are you going to do?" asked dick. "are you going to try to fly in that machine?" "i don't know, yet. but i'm going to have it ready, so that i can if i need to," said harry. "that bleriot maybe the saving of us yet, dick. there's no telling what we shall have to do." even as he spoke, harry was making new plans, rendered possible by this gift from the skies. he was beginning, at last, to see a way to circumvent the germans. what he had in mind was risky, certainly, and might prove perilous in the extreme. but he did not let that aspect of the situation worry him. his one concern was to foil the terrible plan that the germans had made, and he was willing to run any risk that would help him to do so. "the zeppelin is coming here to bray park--it's going to land here," said harry. "and if it ever gets away from here there will be no way of stopping it from doing all the damage they have planned, or most of it. thanks to graves, we wouldn't be believed if we tell what we know--we'd probably just be put in the guard house. so we've got to try to stop it ourselves." they had reached the bleriot by that time. harry filled the tank, and looked at the motor. then he sat in the driver's seat and practiced with the levers, until he decided that he understood them thoroughly. and, as he did this, he made his decision. "i'm going into bray park tonight," he said. "this is the only way to get in." "and i'm going with you," announced dick. chapter xviii vindication at first harry refused absolutely to consent to dick's accompanying him, but after a long argument he was forced to yield. "why should you take all the risks when it isn't your own country, especially?" asked dick, almost sobbing. "i've got a right to go! and, besides, you may need me." that was true enough, as harry realized. moreover, he had been investigating the bleriot, and he discovered that it was one of the new safety type, with a gyroscope device to insure stability. that day was almost without wind, and therefore it seemed that if such an excursion could ever be safe, this was the time. he consented in the end, and later he was to be thankful that he had. once the decision was taken, they waited impatiently for the return of jack young. harry foresaw protests from jack when he found out what they meant to do, but for him there as an easy answer--there was room in the aeroplane for only two people, and there was no way of carrying an extra passenger. it was early dusk when jack returned, and he had the forethought to bring a basket of food with him--cold chicken, bread and butter, and milk, as well as some fruit. "i didn't find out very much," he said, "except this. someone from london has been asking about you both. and this much more--at least a dozen people have come down to bray park today from london." "did you see any sign of soldiers from london?" "no," said jack. he was disappointed when he found out what they meant to do, but he took his disappointment pluckily when he saw that there was no help for it. harry explained very quietly to both jack and dick what he meant to do and they listened, open mouthed, with wonder. "you'll have your part to play, jack," said harry. "somehow i can't believe that the letter i wrote to colonel throckmorton last night won't have some effect. you have got to scout around in case anyone comes and tell them all i've told you. you understand thoroughly, do you?" "yes," said jack, quietly. "when are you going to start?" "there's no use going up much before eleven o'clock," said harry. "before that we'd be seen, and, besides, if a zepplin is coming, it wouldn't be until after that. my plan is to scout to the east and try to pick her up and watch her descend. i think i know just about where she'll land--the only place where there's room enough for her. and then-" he stopped, and the others nodded, grimly. "i imagine she'll have about a hundred and twenty miles to travel in a straight line--perhaps a little less," said harry. "she can make that in about two hours, or less. big as they are, those airships are painted so that they're almost invisible from below. so if she comes by night, getting here won't be as hard a job as it seems at first thought." then the three of them went over in every detail the plan harry had formed. dick and jack took their places in the monoplane and rehearsed every movement they would have to make. "i can't think of anything else that we can provide for now," said harry, at last. "of course, we can't tell what will come up, and it would be wonderful if everything came out just as we have planned. but we've provided for everything we can think of. you know where you are to be, jack?" "yes." "then you'd better start pretty soon. good-bye, jack!" he held out his hand. "we could never have worked this out without you. if we succeed you'll have a big part in what we've done." a little later jack said good-bye in earnest, and then there was nothing to do but wait. about them the voices of the insects and frogs changed, with the darkening night. the stars came out, but the night was a dark one. harry looked at his watch from time to time and at last he got up. "time to start!" he said. he felt a thrill of nervousness as the monoplane rose into the air. after all, there was a difference between being the pilot and sitting still in the car. but he managed very well, after a few anxious moments in the ascent. and once they were clear of the trees and climbing swiftly, in great spirals, there was a glorious sensation of freedom. dick caught his breath at first, then he got used to the queer motion, and cried aloud in his delight. harry headed straight into the east when he felt that he was high enough. and suddenly he gave a cry. "look!" he shouted in dick's ear. "we didn't start a moment too soon. see her--that great big cigar-shaped thing, dropping over there?" it was the zepplin--the battleship of the air. she was dipping down, descending gracefully, over bray park. "i was right!" cried harry. "now we can go to work at once--we won't have to land and wait!" he rose still higher, then flew straight for bray park. they were high, but, far below, with lights moving about her, they could see the huge bulk of the airship, as long as a moderate sized ocean liner. she presented a perfect target. "now!" said harry. and at once dick began dropping projectiles they had found in the aeroplane--sharply pointed shells of steel. harry had examined these--he found they were really solid steel shot, cast like modern rifle bullets, and calculated to penetrate, even without explosive action, when dropped from a height. from the first two that dick dropped there was no result. but with the falling of the third a hissing sound came from below, and as dick rapidly dropped three more, the noise increased. and they could see the lights flying--plainly the men were running from the monster. its bulk lessened as the gas escaped from the great bag and then, in a moment more, there was a terrific explosion that rocked the monoplane violently. had harry not been ready for it, they might have been brought down. but he had been prepared, and was flying away. down below there was now a great glare from the burning wreckage, lighting up the whole scene. and suddenly there was a sharp breaking out of rifle fire. at first he thought the men below had seen them, and were firing upward. but in a moment he saw the truth. bray park had been attacked from outside! even before they reached the ground, in the meadow where harry and jack had emerged from the tunnel, and harry and dick saw, to their wonder and delight, that the ground swarmed with khaki-clad soldiers. in the same moment jack ran up to them. "the soldiers have the place surrounded!" he cried, exultingly. "they must have believed your letter after all, harry! come on-there's a boat here! aren't you coming over?" they were rowing for the other shore before the words were well spoken. and, once over, they were seized at once by two soldiers. "more of them," said one of the soldiers. "where's the colonel?" without trying to explain, they let themselves be taken to where colonel throckmorton stood near the burning wreckage. at the sight of harry his face lighted up. "what do you know about this?" he asked, sternly, pointing to the wrecked airship. harry explained in a few words. "very good," said the colonel. "you are under arrest--you broke arrest this morning. i suppose you know that is a serious offense, whether your original arrest was justified or not?" "i felt i had to do it, sir," said harry. he had caught the glint of a smile in the colonel's eyes. "explain yourself, sir," said the colonel. "report fully as to your movements today. perhaps i shall recommend you for a metal instead of court marshalling you, after all." and so the story came out, and harry learned that the colonel had never believed graves, but had chosen to let him think he did. "the boy graves is a german, and older than he seems," said the colonel. "he was here as a spy. he is in custody now, and you have broken up a dangerous raid and a still more dangerous system of espionage. if you hadn't come along with your aeroplane, we would never have stopped the raid. i had ordered aviators to be here, but it is plain that something has gone wrong. you have done more than well. i shall see to it that your services are properly recognized. and now be off with you, and get some sleep. you may report to me the day after tomorrow!" the end note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) ted marsh on an important mission by elmer sherwood author of "ted marsh, the boy scout", "buffalo bill's boyhood", "buffalo bill and the pony express", etc., etc. illustrations by alice carsey [illustration: he sprang at ted and barked his delight] whitman publishing co. contents i. ted decides to accept ii. plans are made to meet ted iii. ted arrives in chicago iv. ted meets strong v. setting a trap vi. strong seems checkmated vii. the dictaphone at work viii. winckel calls a halt ix. at ottawa x. ted receives a reward xi. ted goes back xii. the marshes reunited illustrations he sprang at ted and barked his delight cautiously he prowled about ted frees the prisoners ted marsh on an important mission chapter i ted decides to accept "ted, oh ted." the speaker's hail was not altogether unexpected. the boy called ted turned about and met captain wilson half way. the familiar figure of the boy proves to be ted marsh who had come out to western canada with his friends, john dean and mrs. dean. after a number of months on the double x ranch, months which the boy had found both exhilarating and tremendously to his liking, he had been sent to wayland academy. to those of us who have read ted marsh the boy scout, the following facts are familiar. a brief resume, however, is set forth herewith for those readers who are new so that they can safely gather the threads of our story. ted marsh, a likeable newsboy, living in chicago, makes the acquaintance of john dean, a canadian rancher. ted takes him to the settlement to which he belongs. dean's interest in the boy grows. then as the boy begins to show the man the chicago that he knows, there is the startling clamor of fire engines and all the evidence of a nearby fire. it is in the tenement in which ted lives. the boy cannot be held back. he rushes into the building to try to save his mother. fortunately, his mother has already left the burning building. the boy is caught within and only makes his escape by jumping from the window on high into the firemen's waiting net below. after a stay in the hospital john dean and his wife take the boy west with the consent of his mother who unselfishly lets him go because opportunity, so she feels, is there. ted's father had left home just before ted was born. [illustration: cautiously he prowled about] strong interest centers around the doings of ted and his new-found friends both at the ranch and at the academy. adventures are many. the boy is found to be cool in emergencies. he has qualities which bring respect and liking. the end of the story finds him suggested for an important mission to chicago--and his youth is considered of great advantage by the gentlemen who wish to send him. the opening of the present story finds captain wilson hailing ted, ready to broach the subject and find out if the boy is willing or unwilling to undertake the mission: the boy saluted. he stood at attention while the captain studied him for a few moments. "ted, boy, i come to you on very important business. not as scout to scout, but as man to man. for you can safely refuse to do this--it will not count against you as scout. did mr. dean see you?" "yes sir," the boy replied. "he told me that in all probability you would wish to see me in reference to an important matter. and he told me that when you did ask me, i was to be sure to decide with no other thought than that of either wanting or not wanting to do it. he doesn't want my friendship for him or for anyone else to influence me." "that's exactly it, ted. what we are going to ask you to do, you must, first, want to do, second, feel that you can do, third, be sure it is in line with any convictions you may have. now, i suppose you are even more anxious to know what it is all about?" the boy nodded his assent but waited for the other to continue. "whatever we are going to tell you or which you may gather you do under pledge of secrecy. and now let us go to meet major church. while we are on our way, bear with me for a few minutes while i go into all this for you. "germany, we all feel, is getting ready to make war. most people cannot realize it, but we have fairly good proof gathered both in london and in ottawa that it is so. we also know that over in the states a big army of so-called german americans but who are germans in reality, men who have never severed their allegiance to the fatherland, are getting ready, preparing to invade canada. they are also to have the help of many irishmen who hate england. "the reason for this conference is to get canada to also prepare. the germans are working quietly, secretly. we cannot get the evidence to show what they are doing although we have tried. here in canada, they simply will not believe, and cite the fact that germany has repeatedly declared its friendship as the best kind of proof of our being all wrong. "is all this too complex for you, my boy?" captain wilson interrupted his discourse with the sudden thought that he was not making it clear to his listener. "i understand you, captain wilson," the boy answered. so the captain continued. "we think we have found out one source through which we can get information. we must, however, proceed with great caution. nothing would please the germans more than to show us up and give surface proof of their good will and good intentions. incidently, they would give a lot to make those of us who are watching, the laughing stock of canada and the united states. that is why we must be very careful. we must try to get washington to see the truth not through any suspicion they may have but by actual, obvious, undeniable evidence. if we can furnish such proof the government at washington will find good reason for watching these german-americans. "it is for us to get the proof. once we get that we will not have to worry as to trouble from the other side of the border. "i suppose," the captain concluded as they entered the building and made their way to the room in which major church was waiting, "you know who some of the men at this conference are. besides mr. dean and myself, major smith, our chief, is an ex-army officer. colonel graham is syd graham's father. mr. smythe comes from toronto; he is in the employ of the government. well, here we are." they entered a small room. major church put aside some papers on which he had been engaged. captain wilson introduced ted. "i have heard of you, young man," was the major's greeting. "you are a credit to the school, i find. and we have called you before us because of qualities we find you possess. "i don't know how much you do know, lad, but war with germany is near. germans masquerading as german-americans are planning an attempt against canada and they intend to carry out that attempt just before the immediate declaration of war. we believe that the meetings of the prime movers are held in milwaukee, possibly in chicago. it is important for us to know their plans." "we perhaps could decide on anyone of several men but it occurred to us that to send one so young as you are would in itself lull any suspicions they may have. they will not connect you with our work, which is in itself half the battle. but, of course, it would not do to send any one who, though young, is not also endowed with a fair amount of good common sense and discretion." ted listened. nothing that the major said escaped him. he realized the weight of the speaker's words. "i understand that you have lived in chicago. that is correct, is it not?" "yes sir," ted replied. "well, it will help in case the point to cover is chicago. with your knowledge of chicago very little time would be lost." "in the main," the major continued, "it is mostly a question of being alert--eyes, ears and mind." "captain wilson," the major turned. "is mr. smythe obtaining the necessary information, do you know?" "yes, we will soon know," was the reply, "who is the operative in that district and whether chicago or milwaukee is the point to cover. mr. smythe is waiting for the answer." major church gave ted an account of how their secret service men worked and how information was obtained. "despite the fact that we have all these men, i feel sure that you will be able to get the information we desire more readily than any of our men. in a way, you will be a temporary secret service man." he carefully outlined his reasons for believing that ted might be successful in getting information. "my boy, canada is not your country. there is no call for you to do it. you may wish to remain neutral and we do not want you to go unless you wish to, heart and soul. but should you go, successful or unsuccessful, you will be rendering us a great service." "i want to go," ted answered very quietly. "canada is second only to my loyalty for my own country." major church and captain wilson gave ted a hand-clasp which showed their feelings. "you are true blue, my lad," said major church. "we will have information as to location from mr. smythe very soon. you can understand the need of secrecy when our wires are coded. by the way, wilson," he turned to the captain, "you have an instructor in german here, have you not?" "we have," was the reply. "better watch him a bit. my theory is that all of these germans will bear watching." three hours later captain wilson and ted joined mr. smythe, mr. dean, colonel graham and major church. mr. smythe presented the following wire: "smythe, "wayland. "ekal stroper on. ecalp ees h." "as you know, gentlemen, they have used the simplest code because the information would only be information for us. it is the reversal of the letters of a word. let us see: "lake reports no. place. see h. "h is strong. no. is chicago. strong is our chief operative there. ted will have to see him to get his information and also such help as he may need. but one thing we know--their headquarters just now are at chicago." "i am glad of it," said ted. "since chicago is my home town, i can do things there and may be successful." "suppose," said john dean, "you start tomorrow, ted. you see, speed is the thing. that will give you a chance to see your mother and sister, too." "i need hardly say," said the major, "that even your mother had best not know about this, unless it should be actually necessary. secrecy is imperative." "i knew that, sir," ted replied. "one thing more," major church added, and he spoke to the men in the room. "no matter who asks about ted, he has gone home to see his mother; someone is not well, let us say. the slightest hint or suspicion as to the purpose of his trip would frustrate it. will you, mr. smythe, telegraph to toronto, and tell the chief just what has been done?" mr. smythe nodded his head. ted went out first. as he closed the door, another door far down the hall opened, a head came out, a very german head--the head of mr. pfeffer, instructor in that language. quietly and quickly it was withdrawn. ted did not observe this; if he had, it probably would not have had any meaning for him. mr. pfeffer was a very curious gentleman, he would have given much to know the purpose of the meeting; even now, he was debating with himself whether he should do some innocent questioning of ted. he decided against it. just before retiring, captain wilson came into ted's room. "it seems silly to distrust pfeffer, lucky, still when you get to a station, say winnipeg, i would telegraph your mother that you are coming. if any questions should be asked of her, she should say that she knows you are coming. see? it is best to be safe and to guard against everything." early morn saw ted on the train. it was announced to those who made inquiries that ted had been called home. mr. pfeffer received the information with private wonder and doubt. he took occasion to stroll down to the telegraph office later that same day. "hello, peter," he said to the operator. peter turned around to see if anyone was about, then brought out a copy of the coded telegram. "easy code, professor--what does it mean?" his copy already had translated the words properly. "it may mean nothing or it may mean everything. the boy is going to chicago--perhaps chicago is no. --perhaps not. peter, you had better send a telegram. better be sure, eh?" "why would they be sending a child and for what?" peter was incredulous. "did the boy send a telegram?" mr. pfeffer asked. "i had better see them all." but there was none that had been sent that morning to chicago. a long wire, also in code, went forward from mr. pfeffer to chicago. then that worthy strolled back to the academy. chapter ii plans are made to meet ted in a room in one of the west side streets of chicago, in an old-fashioned office building, which also rented rooms to lodges and societies, eight men were engaged in earnest conversation. "you are wrong, o'reilly," said one of them. "england will not dare come into it. there are men in england who would want the country to war against my land. but the powers that be, and the people, too, will be against it." "i hate england, berman," said o'reilly. "there are irishmen who are willing to lick the hand that has beaten them and has held them in subjection, but they are not true sons of erin. i am against england, but i do not despise the english as you germans do. once they are aroused, mark my words, slow as they may be at the start, they will be a mighty force." his eyes flashed. "many people call me a traitor, but ireland, not england, is my country, and all irishmen should be against the country that holds it slave. "but to business, gentlemen. will you, mr. schmidt, explain the call for this meeting?" "that i will," answered he who had been addressed. "there are two things for us to take up--the less important first. i have a telegram from our good friend pfeffer up in wayland, in alberta, canada, where he is doing our work, but is presumably a german instructor. ah, here it is--" he drew out the coded wire that pfeffer had sent. "i have figured out the code and it reads as follows: "'ference eld erecon urday h atch h oysat ed w arsh b adian t cific m eftcan erepa en l am h alledsev ome y c ther h pect b emo ssus n h ay i ee o trong w haps s as s persper ay h eekpa formation m atchin s w.' "'conference held here saturday. watch boy ted marsh, canadian pacific, left here seven a. m. sunday. called home by mother. suspect he is on way to see strong. perhaps he has papers, may seek information. watch.'"[a] there was a discussion as to the telegram. "who is strong?" asked o'reilly. "he is the chief operative--secret service man--stationed in chicago by the government at ottawa. we have him watched. we have even instructions out that if he becomes dangerous he will disappear very suddenly." "that is bad business," said a little man named heinrich. "bad business nothing!" answered schmidt. "no one must stand in the forward way. germany first, last, forever. what is strong, what are you, what am i--poof, nothing! but germany--ah--" the speaker's eyes gleamed. "it will give those who are suspicious ground for proof that their suspicions are more than suspicions," answered heinrich. "let us not wander from the point, gentlemen," another man interrupted. "as i gather from the telegram, this boy may be coming to see strong. now, we must first make sure of that fact, then find out what it is he is coming for and stop him in his attempt, if it concerns us." "o'reilly," asked mr. winckel, a man with spectacles which carried thick lenses, "can you or one of your friends, perhaps, meet the boy and pose as this man strong? schmidt, you or feldman had better go to milwaukee and try to place the boy and get such information as you can. but do not let him suspect you." "i'll go," said schmidt. "when is he due?" asked mr. winckel. "why, i should think it would be some time tonight," answered schmidt. "i'll look and make sure." "find out his home address," added winckel. "telegraph it to us and one of us will hurry up and find out if his mother really expects him. how about your part, o'reilly?" "i'll see to it," answered the irishman. "that is finished now. oh, yes, one more thing, schmidt, better have strong watched even more closely. what is the other business?" it could be seen that mr. winckel was the moving spirit. "tomorrow, eight o'clock, here--the chief will come from washington. when captain knabe comes, he will tell us just when the day will be. it is very soon, very soon; the long wait is over. then, too, he will tell us what we shall do. you will all be here? now we shall go to our work." they broke up. they were very thorough, each man had his work assigned and would see it carried through. we shall turn to john strong, who early that morning had been slipped a memorandum in code by the waitress serving breakfast to him, announcing that ted was to come and to meet him. also, ted's home address. john strong was a clean-cut canadian, hair graying at the temples. no one knew better than he how carefully he was watched. that he was able to be as useful to his government as he was, showed his ability. he decided at once that he would not meet ted. that would show one thing--the important thing to those who would want to know. how could he get to the boy's mother without being observed? to the girl who waited on him he whispered that he wanted her to arrange for two cars to wait at the main entrance of the hotel la salle at ten o'clock. he strolled out and immediately felt himself shadowed. he reached the hotel, looked at the register very carefully, as if there was something there he wanted to see, then turned to the cigar-stand. turning around, he saw another man looking just as carefully at that register. he smiled. now he knew one of those who were watching him. he pulled out some memorandum slips from his pocket and made some notations. as if by accident he left one of the slips on the case, lighted his cigar, bought a newspaper, and sat down and lounged. another man came to the cigar counter, also bought some cigars, picked up some matches, and with it the slip of paper. so there were two. at five minutes past the hour strong strolled to the door, made a frantic dash for the machine, which seemed very slow to start. a moment later two men entered the machine immediately next, gave the driver instructions to follow the first machine, which by now had dashed off. the first car went south. you may remember that mrs. marsh lived north. the second car followed. the occupants could never suspect the innocent appearing chauffeur of that second car, as he swore and raved at the policeman who had ordered him to stop to let the east and west traffic go by at the side street. the frantic men inside were assured that he would make up the lost time; that he knew the number of the car he was following. but he never found that car. he became very stupid, although always pleasant. john strong reached the home of mrs. marsh, certain that he had eluded the pursuit. "mrs. marsh, i believe?" he asked as she opened the door. "i am mrs. marsh," she answered. "i am a friend of some friends of ted. the main reason for his coming down to chicago is to see me, although i am sure he will think that seeing you will count for even more than that." "did you get word from him?" further asked strong. "yes, i got a telegram. it said he was coming to see you, but that i was to let anyone else who might ask think that he was coming because i sent for him. i do not understand." very carefully strong explained it all to mrs. marsh. "it is important that these people should not suspect that he is coming to see me, only that he is coming home, nothing more. it may even be, that one of them will be here to see you, some time today. they surely will if they find out anything about his coming, and where you live. i will say this, that i feel i am speaking for mr. dean when i say it will be a great service to him and to his country." "i shall be glad to do anything for mr. dean. you can count on me. i think i understand and perhaps will be able to help. perhaps, too, my daughter, helen, even more so." "will you have your daughter come and see me right after supper. the train comes in at : tonight, and she will meet you afterward at the station. she will go there from my office. possibly, as you say, she can help." he left mrs. marsh, confident that she understood and that she had the ability and willingness to carry her part through. [a] readers will find it interesting to study out the simplicity of this code. there is special pleasure in their working it out for themselves. it is simple and unweaves itself once you have the key. for those who do not wish to decipher the code, they can use the following method. the first syllable of any word of more than one syllable is attached to the third word following. of one syllable words the first letter is found by itself after the second word. in no case is a single letter considered a word. chapter iii ted arrives in chicago between the hours of seven and nine that night many things were happening. helen had gone down to see strong. a man, who may have been a dane or a german, boarded ted's train at milwaukee, and o'reilly was preparing to meet that same train, as was john strong. at home mrs. marsh was leaving to meet the train. we shall follow the man who boarded the train. he entered one of the pullmans, but no boy seemed to be there; another one, and there were two boys, but both seemed to be with parents. but he was successful in the third car. it was ted he saw and as he sat down very near him he pulled out a danish newspaper and started to read. pretty soon he looked up. he seemed a very pleasant man. he spoke to a man in the seat in front of him, then he turned to ted. "have you come from far?" he asked innocently. "yes, sir," answered ted, "from wayland." "so," observed the man. "do you live in chicago or in wayland?" he added, "i live in milwaukee, but i go twice, sometimes three times a month to chicago. my daughter lives there." "in chicago," answered ted. truth to tell, he was very glad to talk, the trip had been a long one. "where do you live, what part?" asked his new acquaintance. "over north, wells street." ted saw no reason why he should not tell this harmless stranger where he lived. although he had no suspicion of him, he had made up his mind that such questions he would answer, no matter who asked them. for he realized that the one way to arouse curiosity was to appear secretive. "my daughter lives up that way, too," the man said. he seemed quite interested in the idea of making conversation. "i will leave you for a minute." the train was slowing up for racine. his telegram was all ready except for the address. he rushed into the ticket office, added the address and had it sent collect, and had plenty of time to board the train. "i wonder why," thought ted, "he should have to run into that station." ted's suspicions were somewhat aroused. he decided to appear as if he had not taken note of the actions of his acquaintance. schmidt had underestimated the ability of the boy. he was so young, he thought, there was no necessity for special care. then, too, he was so very affable, so very simple. to his questions as to who would meet him ted answered that he thought no one would, the time he was coming was a little uncertain, he added. "no one is to meet me, either. perhaps we can both go up home together, eh?" "sure," replied the boy, "that would be fine." ted fancied by now that the man was a german. but, then, he had that danish newspaper. maybe he was not. "what do you do at your place--wayland, i think you said?" "i go to the academy there. i belong to the scouts--it is military and academic." the boy was quite young and quite simple, schmidt decided. "ah, that military business is bad, very bad. there will never be war anymore." ted wondered if the man really believed it. he could not make up his mind. so they talked. the man grew less and less interested. he had made up his mind that the boy was really going to see his mother. of course, that would be proven when they found out how much the mother knew about it and if she would meet the boy. probably all this time had been wasted, but schmidt had no regrets. after all, eternal vigilance was the watchword. an hour later the train came into the station. ted, who had been quite tired, no longer felt any weariness. here was chicago, here was home. as he stepped away from the train, his mother and sister ran forward. two men watched him from close by--one motioned to the other. o'reilly went forward. "my boy, are you looking for mr. strong?" helen interrupted: "looking for mr. who? why, of course he's not--he's my brother--i guess you are mistaken. come, ted, we are going home first." ted did not question his sister; he knew there was method in her outburst. he added: "sorry, sir." "i'm so glad you came, ted. how i hoped you would!" his mother said. o'reilly turned doubtfully, as the other man beckoned him away. "time lost," said schmidt. "let them go. no harm done. i pumped the boy on the way; he had no secret, apparently. he is but a child." "i was scared by that girl," replied o'reilly musingly. "my, she's a tartar. all right, then, i'm tired and i'm going home. good-night." "good-night, my friend--see you tomorrow." schmidt watched him go. "say, sis, i did have to meet a mr. strong." ted spoke in a low voice. "i know it, ted, but that man was not he. when we get away somewhere i'll tell you something about it." "let's go home. i'm crazy to be back here and it certainly feels fine." chapter iv ted meets strong there were many eager questions on the way home. the mother listened with great pride to ted's account, even though he had told many of the same things in his letters. ted painted a great picture of his new home and it made mrs. marsh very happy for his sake, even though she wished a little longingly that both helen and she could be a part of this wonderful and happy life. helen must have been thinking the same thing, for she spoke out: "i wish mother and i could go out there. if there were only something i could do there. my work here is interesting, but i would gladly give it up for such an opportunity." "it's all right, sis," replied ted. "it won't be long before you will both be out there. i wouldn't want to stay myself if i did not feel sure of that." they had reached their "l" station by now and home was only a matter of a few moments. "i guess you are tired, ted. but i think i had better tell you what mr. strong wants you to do." then helen told him of her going down to see mr. strong, how the latter had reason to believe that there was to be a meeting of the germans the very next night. he wanted to see ted, who was to go to a certain number on adams street at eight the next morning. she gave him the number of the room. ted was to wait until such time as strong came. he might be late, for often there was difficulty in getting there unobserved. he would mention the word dean and helen for identification, should it be necessary. ted went to bed and slept the sleep of the just and the weary. that next morning the newspapers printed in large headlines the ultimatum that austria had put up to servia. they speculated on the possibilities of war. to ted--refreshed and no longer weary, reading the newspaper as he made his way downtown--it brought a feeling that he was in some way involved. it made him feel quite important; it increased his respect for the men who had sent him to chicago. it was big work these men were doing; he was having a share in it. he left the elevated station with some time on his hand. it seemed so long since he had been down here in the heart of chicago. it came to ted that it would always hold a warm spot in his affections. after all, it was here he had spent his childhood; it was to the knockabouts received here that he owed much. if only he could be successful, if only he could obtain the necessary information and be able to deliver the message to john strong. without knowing very much about it all, he realized that the things for him to do were important parts of it all. a little uncertainly, because the subject was a little too much for him, and he was still a very young boy, he speculated on why nations should go to war. "hello, ted," someone greeted him. it was spot, the fellow with whom he had had that fight at the beginning of this story. "hello, spot," ted greeted him cordially. he was glad to renew old acquaintances. "how's business?" "fine," answered spot. "lots of news, lots of papers sold. what are you here for? thought you went 'way out west?" "i'm just paying a visit," laughed ted. "seeing friends." they talked for a few minutes. "see you again, spot. is this your regular stand?" "sure is," replied spot, as he turned to a customer. ted went on his way. very soon he reached the building on adams street to which helen had directed him. he turned in and when he came to the seventh floor he entered room . he accosted the man who looked up from a desk with: "want a boy?" "well, perhaps." he sounded very english. "what is your name?" "theodore marsh," replied the owner of that name. the man's manner changed on the instant. ted liked him then. "come in, ted. mr. strong is expected any minute, but of course he may not come for a while. we have just moved in here. we have to move quite often, for those germans certainly are shrewd. quick, too, and they keep us on the jump." he turned to work on an intricate little machine which had a long coil of wire, very thin, much thinner than a telephone wire. "do you know what this is?" ted did not know. "a dictaphone. we will have use for it. i am getting it ready for tonight." ted had heard of a dictaphone, but he had not yet learned its usefulness. he was to find out that night how wonderfully useful it could be, how much danger the use of it would avoid. it was almost two hours before a man entered. when he saw ted he said, with a smile: "hello, my boy. i guess you and i have met both dean and helen, haven't we? let us go into this room." ted delivered the papers he had brought for strong. strong took them eagerly and just as eagerly ted gave them up. he heaved a sigh of relief at getting rid of them. "this paper alone," strong picked up one of the papers from his desk, where he had placed them, "if trouble should come, would prove to the united states government what the germans are doing in the states and just how it affects canada. without this it would be disagreeable to be found doing some of the things we find ourselves compelled to do. i see, also, that this letter says that i may count on your help. we will need it, i am sure. "tonight, the germans are to hold a meeting. the purpose and decision reached there we must know at all costs. we must go down there, you and walker and i. walker is the man in the office. he has the necessary knowledge to place a dictaphone or tap a telephone wire. also, he, another man named bronson, and i have already made arrangements for placing that dictaphone at the germans' meeting-place." he turned to walker. "are you ready?" "in about five minutes," replied walker, with a grin. while they were waiting strong suddenly thought of something. "as i understand--am i right?--you were a newsboy up to a year ago?" "yes, sir, i was," answered ted. "good. do you think you could manage to fix yourself up as one and meet us in front of the auditorium?" "i think i can," replied the boy, after a moment's thought. "all right, i'll give you forty-five minutes," strong said, as he turned to walker, who was now ready. quickly, ted located spot. "i'll tell you what i'll do, spot," he confided to the news merchant. "i'll give you two dollars and my clothes for your clothes and papers. i want you to have a share in my good fortune and i also want to sell papers for awhile." spot grinned delight. "you mean it, ted?" "sure. where can we change?" "any place will suit me. but i'll show you a place. that's easy." a place was very easily located. spot had managed to wash his hands and face, while ted's had not yet gotten to the color they should be. they had exchanged everything from shoes to hats. "where are you going now, spot?" asked ted. "i beg your pardon," replied spot. "my name is mr. james sullivan. i would have you address your betters properly, boy." he never cracked a smile as he walked off, but ted laughed uproariously. a little later two men came out of the auditorium. "paper, sir, papers?" "no," answered one of them. the other took a second look at the newsboy and laughed. "he certainly fooled you, strong. it's ted." "good work, ted," strong said, with appreciation. "slip into that automobile while we stand in front of it." they walked toward it. "now, quick." the machine was off to the german meeting-place. chapter v setting a trap the automobile came to a stop two blocks from the german meeting-place. as the three walked toward it, a beggar stopped strong. the latter gave him some coins. ted, who was watching, saw a paper pass between the two. it was so quickly done that he was not even sure of it. he made no comment, as he knew that strong would mention it, if he thought it necessary. "the room is on the third floor," strong said. "there is someone in it now. that beggar has just been up there; he has been watching the house all morning, so that he could keep me in touch. "suppose, ted, you go up and sell your papers. go to every office. when you reach room , size it up as well as you can. see what you can of and also." "all our work and our preparations have been from ," walker added. "our friends are there." "yes," strong said, "take a look in there, even though you will meet bronson a little later." a boy tried to sell his papers in the many offices. he canvassed each floor and in due time reached the fourth. he came to room and saw a sign on the glass reading as follows: terence mcmahon insurance agent and adjuster main office--oliver building russell bronson, br. mgr. he entered. "want a paper?" he asked one of the men. the man took one. ted glanced about and then went out. he had some idea of the room. he noticed that three other doors seemed to belong to the same office, rooms , and . he soon reached the third floor. he went through the same routine, just as carefully and matter-of-factedly, as he had done on the other floors. when he reached he found the door locked and a hand pointing to as the entrance. on the glass of that door he saw a sign which read: novelties and toys a. christensen ted opened the door. a man was inside, his feet perched upon a desk and he was reading a german newspaper. "paper, sir?" ted asked him. "no," was the answer. he did not even glance up. "i have a staats-zeitung and a wochen-blatt," coaxed ted. all this time he was taking stock of the room. "a wochen-blatt? i'll take one," the man became interested. he offered a half dollar to ted. "i haven't the change, but i will get it for you." ted was fighting for time, so that he could form impressions. "and run away with my money?" the man sneered. "not on your life. i'll wait until later." "you can hold all my papers. i'll come back." the man grudgingly gave the boy the money. at the corner store ted found his two friends; the automobile had long since left. "good work," strong commented, after hearing ted. "now, how can we get that fellow out of the building for half an hour?" "when i suggested going out for the change," volunteered ted, "he didn't want to trust me and said: 'i'll wait until later.' perhaps he intends going out." "well, here is one way to coax him to go a little sooner. a german wants what he wants when he wants it, and he never stops wanting it until he gets it. when you go back, ted, insist on being paid twice as much as the paper sells for. he probably will not pay it. he will consider it a holdup. but he will want that paper and it may hurry his departure. it is almost lunch-time anyway. "walker, you go to all the news-stands within three square blocks and also any stores you may see that sell newspapers and buy up any wochen-blatts they have. that ought to keep our friend busy trying to get what he wants and so give us more time. we will all meet in room . i'll steal up while you two are wrangling over your high-handed outrage, ted. walker can come any time. there is small chance that he will be recognized. you see," strong added, his eyes smiling, "that's the value of having the ordinary face walker has. he looks like seventy-five million other folks, so no one would notice him." ted rushed back to the office. "everybody is poor around here or else they don't want to make change. my, what trouble." he was counting out the change and he now placed but forty cents on the man's desk. the man picked up the money and for a moment it looked as if he would not count it, but he did. "hey, boy, another nickel! you're short here." "no, i'm not. i took a nickel for all the trouble i had in making change." ted felt mean and he knew his argument was a poor one, but he was doing it for a purpose. "five cents, or i don't want the paper." he made a threatening motion toward ted. ted laughed at him. he threw the dime on the desk, picked up his paper and backed out of the door. the man was muttering fiercely in german. out on the street our hero watched from a nearby door. it was just mid-day and people were hurrying for their lunch. but it was at least twenty minutes before he saw his man walk out of the building. he watched him and saw him stop at one, then at another stand and try to obtain the desired paper. he was not successful and ted saw him stroll further down the street. two minutes later ted was in room . walker joined them almost at the same time. ted was introduced to the man to whom he had sold a paper a little earlier and then the party got down to business. "walker, jump down and try the door," said strong. "here is the key." but a new problem presented itself when walker reported back that the key would not fit the lock and strong, incredulous, had proven the truth of it for himself. "phew!" whistled strong. "they must have changed the lock. they figured the old one was too easy for anyone who had a mind to enter. come on, walker, we'll try the window." but they found no way of entering through the window. it was securely fastened. walker, with one foot on the edge of the fire-escape and the other on the ledge of the next room's window and holding himself secure with one hand, attempted to open that window also, but found it just as securely locked. "there is still one way before we think of any rough stuff," said strong. with the other three he went down to the third floor. "here, ted, get on my shoulders and try the fanlight. let's pray that it opens." it opened so very easily that they all laughed. but they found that neither walker, strong nor bronson could get through. but ted could. "well," said bronson, "i reckon it's up to the boy, isn't it?" "it certainly is," said strong. walker now very quickly, yet very clearly explained the workings and the manipulations of the dictaphone. ted listened carefully as he was told how the wires should be laid and connected. "you see, ted," walker continued, "the whole thing is already prepared. we knew how little time we would have when the time did come, so we did everything we could beforehand. you will find a place for these wires on the wall behind the steam-pipes. the floor moulding running along the window wall will move if you remove the screws--four of them. then count off the sixteenth floor board--you work it this way," walker showed ted how, "and it will pry loose. it is all very simple and should take no more than twenty minutes. it would take me ten. "the floor-board has a little groove into which the wires will fit. you will find that where this board ends is another piece of moulding which will most surprisingly give way to your magic fingers, and the screwdriver, as did the moulding at the other end. on the big cabinet that is there, try that corner of it nearest you and against the wall, and there you will find that your wires will fit snugly. your hands are small and can get in there, back of the cabinet. you just can't go wrong. on top of the cabinet see that the mouthpiece or, rather, the listener, is propped up so that it faces the table. if you have any doubts call out--we will be here. you will also find that it will not be seen, for the cabinet is high." "be careful, ted, about leaving things just as they were. it all will fit back snugly. be twice as careful as you are quick," strong warned him. "i shall be up here, bronson will be one flight below, and the beggar is watching in the street. walker will be up above passing the wires down to you." more than fifteen minutes had already been consumed. strong had warned ted to open the window of room and, should a warning come, hide in that room. a rope would be passed down for him from the window above. ted got to work at once. he found it even more simple than walker had told him. in fifteen or twenty minutes he called out. "i think i am through." he took another look about. he had carefully seen to everything and there was no sign of any disturbance. "wait a minute," said strong. there was a pause. then he heard strong speaking to him again, "say something right out, not too loud, just ordinary conversation." "want to buy a paper? news, post, american, staats-zeitung?" said ted to the empty air. there was another pause, then he heard walker say to strong, "it's fine and distinct, old man." ted took another look about. he lifted himself on the door-knob and then eager hands helped him out. walker ran down the fire escape to take a look around the room and strong hoisted himself up on the knob and also looked about. ted's work had been thorough and neither of them made any criticisms. "well, that's something of a relief," said walker. ted closed the fanlight. "nothing to do until tonight," and walker grinned. "let's eat," said strong. "coming with us, bronson?" "certainly," was the answer. chapter vi strong seems checkmated ted was too excited to eat. "better eat, lad," said walker. "we do not know when we will get another chance today. if no one else seemed to be following his advice, he himself considered it good enough to heed. he was eating enough for two. "i imagine it is going to be risky business tonight," bronson remarked. "i wish i could be with you." "it's either going to be that, or it is going to be very simple," strong answered. "that is the trouble with all adventure, these days," walker complained. "it's always so very simple." "i consider this extremely interesting and exciting," replied strong. "it is like a tremendous game of chess with enough elements of danger added to suit the most exacting. don't imagine that we shall not be in danger every second tonight. these germans are cold-blooded. if we should happen to be in their way, should they find out how much we actually know, we can say good-bye; the sun would rise tomorrow, but we might not." he turned to ted. "well, lad, are you afraid?" "i'm going to stick, of course," was the reply. "well, comrades, here is the plan. the keys you see here, one for each of us, are for room . we shall separate. at six-thirty we must all plan to be in that room. no noise must be made when you come; no sound must be made while you are there." "we had better make sure we do all our sneezing outside, eh?" every one laughed with walker. "it will be your last sneeze, if it's inside," strong laughingly warned him. "the least sound, a scraping chair, would be heard. stay in room ; the fire escape makes dangerous, if anyone should be curious and decide to come up and look into that room. of course, there will be no lights turned on. "should any of us fail to get there, he who does must make every effort to get the import of the conversation." "can i do anything, before i leave for new york tonight?" asked bronson. "no, i guess not. get your room into shape for us. put the chairs where we cannot stumble over them. how long will you be gone?" "i don't know. these germans certainly keep us busy. some of our optimists are turning pessimists, now that austria is declaring war against servia. they are beginning to think that perhaps there is something in this war-talk. i have to go to them and tell them just how much there really is in it. i had much rather stay--wish i could." "i know that, bronson, and there is no one i would rather have. but perhaps you will be of better service there. i shall code wright the information we get tonight, if we get it. they will have it at the new york office." strong and walker returned to the adams street office; ted went home. he was glad of the chance to see more of his mother; helen, he knew, would not be home. ted was very fond of his pretty, efficient sister, and proud of her rapid rise at the store. he found his mother there when he reached home. he explained the reason for his wearing the newsboy's clothes. ted spent a quiet, comfortable afternoon with her. many things they still had to talk about and the mother realized how much it was the desire of ted to have her and helen come out to that great west, a land where contentment and opportunity, at least, were more likely to be found than in this place, in which she had lived so many years. * * * * * about three o'clock, only a half hour after he had been at adams street, strong was called to the telephone. he had been busy at a report, the call was unexpected and could only come from his secretary or from ted, the only two besides walker who knew of this new location. it proved to be his secretary. "a messenger boy came here a little while ago with a message for you," she said. "read it." "'a meeting is to be held at w.'s house. if you will come, can get you in. : !' it is signed 'j.'," she added. there was a pause. she continued: "it looks as if it comes from jones. it is his writing, beyond doubt, but he signed his initial instead of his number." "i'll come right over," strong answered, and his voice sounded perplexed. charles jones was an operative, employed as a butler by the winckel household. he had so often given proof of profound stupidity in everything except his duties in the household that herr winckel would have laughed at any suspicion of his being anything else but a butler. herr winckel was so fond of saying and repeating that the man had a butler mind it could never grasp anything outside of that. in reality, jones was shrewd, keen, able to obtain information without creating suspicion. he had been one of strong's best men and the latter felt he could count on him. could it be a trap, he wondered? strong was uncertain as to what he should do. to miss this meeting, which perhaps was important; to go there, on the other hand, and endanger the chances of his getting to that night meeting? "i wish i knew what to do, walker." together they went over the phases of it as they walked down to the office. "i'd go," advised walker. "you say that the boy could do his part. if they do want you out of the way, should this be a trap, they will hold us until morning; they would not dare hold us any longer. and, if they do, they will not feel the need for carefulness and the boy will thus have a better chance. it works well both ways." when they came to the office, strong read the message again. "we'll go, walker," he decided. "dress up. be sure not to carry any papers." two men came out of one of the inner offices a few minutes later. they would have been taken anywhere for two english servants; they might have been valets, footmen, even butlers. each one looked the other over critically, but the disguise was thorough. at fifteen minutes past the hour they reached the winckel house, knocked at the servants' entrance. the maid answered and they asked for mr. jones. they appeared to be very superior, upper-class servants. very english, too. she escorted them in and then opened a door for them to enter. they passed through. as they did, each one of them was pounced upon. they struggled against the sickening smell of the chloroform held tightly against their noses. then they knew nothing more for a while. an hour later they awoke with a feeling of nausea and the smell of chloroform all about them. they found themselves tied hand and foot and unable to move. from all appearances they seemed to be in the cellar of the house. "are you there, chief?" asked walker, in a sick and very low voice. "yes, i'm here; going to stay awhile, i guess." "i wonder what happened? suppose they got on to----?" "they are probably gloating somewhere within earshot," strong warned him in a whisper. "they certainly have us out of the way for the time being," he added, ruefully. "well, there's nothing to do; we're caught," walker said, in his ordinary voice. then, in a voice so low strong could barely hear him, he inquired, "are you pretty well tied? can you do anything?" "can't even move," was the answer. "same here," walker said dejectedly. "they made a good job." at five o'clock ted left home for downtown. he stopped off to buy some of the late editions of the newspapers and proceeded to the meeting-place. he made his rounds through several buildings and at last reached that particular one. there was no one watching, however. with strong out of the way the germans felt quite secure. at five-thirty he had already let himself into room and was preparing to make himself comfortable. he picked up the dictaphone every few minutes, but for a long time heard nothing. things seemed quiet and he began to wonder where strong and walker were, what was delaying them. his heart was going at a great rate because of the forced quiet and the excited state of his mind. things would depend on him if the two men did not come. would he be able to carry out the plans? "i can only do my best," the boy said to himself. and there was a strong determination to make that best count. it was now half past seven. he lifted the dictaphone oftener. very soon he heard voices, very indistinct, but as he listened they became clearer and clearer. then he began making out the words and the sense of the conversation. "yes," said one voice. "we found out that this man jones, who was winckel's butler, was one of their men. he dropped a card which young winckel found. that was enough to warrant his being watched, although we did nothing for several days except to see that he got no further information. "today, at the point of a gun, we forced him to write a note to strong telling him that there was to be a meeting at winckel's house at four-thirty and that he could get him in. strong with another man came. we trapped them, bound them and they are now in the cellar out of harm's way." ted welcomed the information. at least he knew just what to expect. "it's almost time for our friends to be here, isn't it? what time is captain knabe coming?" said a voice. "at about fifteen minutes after eight. he is coming with winckel." "say, schmidt, it was a good piece of business to get strong out of the way. he is too dangerous and resourceful to suit us." this from o'reilly. "he has been a nuisance, hasn't he?" answered schmidt. "hello, friends," he said to some new-comers. "i have just been telling o'reilly about our little affair this afternoon." there was the sound of a number of voices and of some laughing. then more men came into the room, there was the scraping of chairs as men seated themselves. then there was quiet as two men entered. greetings were exchanged and ted realized that the two were winckel and captain knabe. as captain knabe was introduced to some of the men, ted wrote the names down. "let us get down to business, friends," said one, who seemed to be the chairman. "captain knabe has come here from washington, his time just now is important. even more important is the need for immediate action. captain knabe, gentlemen." chapter vii the dictaphone at work "i understand," said captain knabe, "that some of the irish gentlemen present do not understand german, and so, while i can do so much better in my native tongue, i shall talk in english." "how lucky," thought ted. "well, gentlemen, i have good news for you--war is to be declared the day after tomorrow." there was the sound of moving, falling chairs, of men getting to their feet. then a whispered toast--a whisper that was almost loud because of the number of voices--"der tag." "you, in america, who have never given up your allegiance to the supreme nation, nor to the emperor, must do your share. although war is to be declared the day after tomorrow, it will be a matter of a few more days before we are at war with england; possibly it will be more than a week. i understand you are ready." another voice spoke. "we are prepared. we will announce picnics at certain places; it is for you to tell us the locations." "i am ready to tell you that now," replied the captain. "concentrate on your picnic grounds near detroit for the taking of windsor. herr winckel has the plans. i have given him three sets--windsor, toronto, winnipeg. he also has the charts which show how to move and what railroads to occupy. our friends in canada are to see that there are available cars, engines and even motors. of course, all of you will know just what picnic grounds are to be selected, so we need waste no time on that." "how many men have you, herr winckel?" captain knabe wanted to know. "will you tell us, schoen?" herr winckel asked. "approximately, armed and ready for the call, one hundred and twenty-five thousand men. there are also forty thousand irishmen. o'reilly has them equally prepared and ready. pfeffer reports thirty thousand men in canada, eager for the call. they are so stationed that we can throw one hundred and fifty thousand men on windsor and toronto or such other points as are within one half day's ordinary travel. for montreal we would need eighteen hours' additional notice. for quebec we would need thirty. we figure that thirty thousand men will be enough for winnipeg, although we shall have more." "the fool englishmen," sneered a voice. "not such fools, schmidt. do not underestimate them." the voice was winckel's. "everything looks so easy," said another voice. "aye," said captain knabe, "we cannot help but win. but the englishman fights best with his back to the wall." "you have your commands assigned, have you not?" the captain inquired. "we have," replied schoen. "now, gentlemen, here is the thing of the utmost importance," herr winckel spoke warningly. "the facts must not leak; they must not get to the united states officials. that is so important that the whole plan will have to be dropped if there is any suspicion as to a leak." "i think a number of us will bear out what winckel says," o'reilly spoke up. "for myself, and i think i speak for the other irishmen here present and also for the forty thousand against england, but against the united states--never. not one irishman can be counted on if it comes to a showdown against the u. s. a." "nor very many germans," added winckel. "so be it," said captain knabe. "shall we go over the ammunition storehouses, those that are in canada and those that are in this country?" many of the places ted could not make out, others he did. he realized that this was valuable information. names though they were, they were clues and so might be important. much more was said by the many men and ted stored up in his mind such information as he thought would be useful. at half past ten all the men had left and from what ted heard he understood that knabe, winckel, o'reilly and schoen were adjourning to some other place to perfect plans. ted cautiously stretched himself. he was wary and still watchful. although his muscles were stiff and his bones ached, he had not dared to move. when he was fairly certain that he could move, he indulged in that luxury for at least five minutes. he had no trouble in leaving the building. once outside, he hastened to a telephone booth. he had no intention of telephoning, but he did want to find out the address of winckel. a plan was in his mind. he found two winckels in the telephone. he decided that in all likelihood it was the one on michigan avenue, the other was somewhere on the north side. when he came to the first cross street he saw a passing taxi and hailed it. the driver had some suspicion as to the ability of his customer to pay, for ted was still in his newsboy's clothes. however, ted proved he had the necessary funds and satisfied the chauffeur. ted left the taxi two blocks before he reached the winckel residence. the inside of the house was almost, not quite dark. stealthily the boy investigated. he decided that any entrance would have to be made from the rear or the side of the building. the rear windows to the basement and the door he found were locked. the boy studied the situation. he saw where he could enter through one place, but it would mean that he would have to remove a window glass. he decided against that. there was danger of being heard. though ted was seeking an entrance he had not as yet made up his mind to try to go to the rescue of his friends. to go into the building and take chances? but then, after all, his information could be of use to strong only, for he held the many threads. it would be folly to call the police, strong would not care to have the publicity, and then, too, the two men might not be there after all. he decided, come what may, he would go in. he felt fairly certain that winckel would not be in the house nor would he return for an hour or more. before making any further attempt to get inside, ted went to a nearby drug store. he obtained paper and stamped envelope and wrote the following message to strong's office, addressing it to strong's secretary, miss ford. "unless you hear from us in the early morning, you will find us imprisoned in the cellar of mr. winckel's house. i am now trying to get mr. strong and mr. walker out, but may not succeed. " : p.m. ted." having mailed the letter he hurried back to the house. cautiously he prowled about, trying to find a way into the basement. there was no way. at any ordinary time ted would have said it was impossible to get up on that ledge, but he managed it now. the house entrance was through a wide door, but one had to go down three steps and it made the floor an english basement. the floor above that was much higher than most ground floors and yet lower than most second floors. ted crept along the narrow ledge holding on to such supports as were there. he reached a big window and by careful manipulation and urging the boy managed to force it open. he crawled in. spot's suit was very useful now, for it held matches. ted did not intend to use any unless he had to, but the building was strange to him and the occasion for the use of them might arise. he knew that he would have two floors to travel, the one to the basement and the one to the cellar. he got down the one floor without mishap. he was about to begin the exploration of that floor for the entrance to the cellar, when he heard the key being inserted into the street door. his heart leaped within him. two people entered, a man and woman. they switched on a light. if these people had come thirty seconds earlier he would have been caught coming down the stairs, ted thought, as he crouched behind the turn of the staircase. "it was nice of you to see me home, mr. erkin," said the young lady. "will you be good enough to let the light burn, as some of the folks are not in yet? come and see me some time." "good-night, thank you, i will," the man answered and left. the boy thought, "well, i certainly should be called lucky. here i wonder how to find an entrance to the cellar and they are kind enough to turn on a light for me." it was fairly easy for ted to find his way now, but because of the light he had to use even greater care. the cellar seemed deserted, when he got there. it was pitch dark and it took several minutes for him to grow accustomed to the extreme darkness. then he heard the faint murmur of voices. strong and walker had slept fitfully and had been wide awake at various times. strong had again been awakened and was insisting that walker listen to him. as ted drew nearer, he heard strong say, "i don't think, the way i feel, i shall ever be able to move again. but if i knew that ted was just the least bit successful i could be forever content." "the poor child--if he did anything at all," walker answered, "it would be wonderful. it's a man's job, what, then, could a boy do?" as if in answer to the question, they heard a low voice call, "mr. strong, mr. strong!" "who is that?" the startled voice of strong demanded. "it's me, ted!" said that ungrammatical young man, a bit excitedly. [illustration: ted frees the prisoners] "god bless you, boy. is it really you? have you a match?" ted struck one. hurriedly he untied the two men, who were already questioning him excitedly and to whom he whispered assurances. as they turned the corner (having left the building without trouble) strong looked back. an auto passed north on michigan avenue. "that's winckel's car," he said. "we weren't any too soon." ted told the two men of the night's adventures and they both listened eagerly. strong was laboring under great excitement as the boy went on with his story. when ted was through he placed his hand on ted's shoulder and said, quietly and very impressively, to him: "i simply can't tell you the things i long to say. you're going to be a man, my boy! this is a day's work of which you will always be proud. "knowing what we know, we can go to sleep tonight, awake in the morning with a plan as to just what we will do. i could almost cry with contentment. this news you bring is what we have long striven to learn, and along comes ted marsh--lucky, the boy scout--and makes canada and england his very grateful and humble servants. "there are several things we know we can do now," he added. "we had best take a night to sleep it over." "you are a wonder, ted, my friend," added walker. "come, let us go," said strong. "we are all weary. i hate to leave you. i'd like to celebrate, but i guess we had better postpone it until tomorrow. see you at eight." chapter viii winckel calls a halt there were glaring headlines in the newspapers the next morning. war was on. people who had doubted all along, who could not believe it possible, now had to believe. and, although england was as yet not involved, no one was optimistic enough to imagine that she would stay out of it. around newspaper offices, everywhere, excited, eager groups discussed it all. many a man heard the thrilling call of his native land and many listened and made plans to return to either germany, russia, england or france. yet neither in headlines nor in the ordinary run of news, was there mention made of the events of our story. silent, powerful forces were at work to keep it quiet. the automobile of herr winckel stopped before his house and from it schmidt, o'reilly and the owner alighted. they made their way to the cellar, a precaution as to the safekeeping of the prisoners. o'reilly and schmidt were to be guests of winckel for the night. much work had been planned for the morning. "quiet, aren't they?" said schmidt, as winckel started to turn on the light. "i guess they are asleep," remarked o'reilly. the light glared. a moment's hush. there were astonished and wondering exclamations. the ropes which had held the prisoners tied, were strewn about, but the prisoners were nowhere. "what can it mean?" exclaimed winckel, searching vainly for an explanation. wild guesses were made by the three as to how the escape was made. "well," said winckel after awhile, "never mind how they escaped, the important thing is--how much have they found out of our plans." he showed plainly how disturbed he was. "how can they have found out about our plans? pretty far fetched to imagine that they could have obtained any information--the chances are that they did not escape until late this evening." o'reilly interrupted schmidt. "is there any way in which we can find out the last time someone in the house saw the prisoners?" "good idea," said winckel. "we shall soon find out." the household was awakened. inquiries and investigation showed that lauer, a trusted employee of winckel, had taken a last look at the prisoners at about ten o'clock. he was certain of that; he had heard their voices, although he could not make out what they spoke about. there were sighs of relief from schmidt and o'reilly, who felt that the situation was covered, but winckel was more skeptical and less canny. "i will admit that they were here until ten o'clock and later. i will even admit that they were not listening at the conference. but how was their escape managed and why after ten? did they have outside help and how did the outside help know of their imprisonment here? "both of you gentlemen may be tired and may wish to retire. please do so, if you want to. i am going down to our meeting place to see what i can see. a little late, i will admit, and it may not do us much good, but there is always a chance. it is important for us to find out if we have blundered, if our plans have been disclosed." both schmidt and o'reilly insisted on accompanying winckel and the three left the house in the next five minutes. they reached the building in about twenty minutes. no policeman was about to see them violate the speed laws on the way. an immediate and careful search of the room was made, to see if anyone had been there since they left and also for any clue as to the probable leak. "nothing seems wrong as far as i can see," o'reilly started to say. "hello, what is this?" he had discovered the cleverly concealed wires of the dictaphone. winckel and schmidt joined him on the instant. they traced the wires and soon found out the whole layout. "mischief is certainly afoot," exclaimed schmidt. the other men said nothing, but studied the proposition. "there still is a chance," said o'reilly in an unconvincing manner--as if he wanted to believe something his better sense did not permit him to do, "that this outfit was not used since strong and the other man had been kept from it." a sickening thought at the same instant came to schmidt. "o'reilly, we talked about the prisoners, how we had trapped them, where they were--and all the time someone was listening. that someone heard all we had to say and then, after we were all through, he went up to winckel's house and rescued them." winckel said nothing for many minutes; he seemed lost in thought. the other men waited for him to speak. finally he did. "we are a lot of dunces. we were so sure of ourselves, we felt we were so wise. pride goeth before a fall and we fell. we must give up our plans. it is up to both of you to get busy, we still have time to keep out of trouble. there is a ray of comfort in that, at least." "i hate to think what knabe and the others at the embassy will think," was the rueful comment of schmidt. "don't let that bother you. this plan has failed, we must plan again--when again we match wits, let us hope we shall be more careful and consequently more successful. come, enough of post mortems, let's get busy." it was a busy night for all of them. there were many men who had to be seen and who in turn had to see others. it was, so they explained to the others, a matter of life and death that all preparations cease at once, as there would be close and careful watch kept. there was much telephoning and telegraphing to the friends who were in other cities. there can be nothing but thorough admiration for the effective, capable way these men went about calling a halt to all activities. like a perfect, well oiled machine which slows down and then ceases its movements, until there is something tremendously impressive in its inaction and silence; like a well-drilled army which retreats magnificently and in its very retreat almost gains a victory, so much like all this, was the action and the work of these men at this time. they were obeyed as only the germans know how to obey. by morning, there was no sign, no clue to their plans and activities. one thing only remained to prove the danger to canada that had been. arsenals and warehouses holding weapons and vehicles of war were found at the places shown on the list that ted had copied. at ottawa and a little later in london and in washington, the powers--the men at the helm--found out that what would in all probability have been a successful invasion of canada had been checked. and they found out, too, just how and in what way it had been done. chapter ix at ottawa "come in, both of you," strong called from the inside office. ted had shown up at strong's office early the next day. he found strong at his desk and he found afterwards that he had been there for more than two hours. his secretary told ted that he was telephoning long distance and that ted should wait. when the operative was through talking, he came out and saw ted. "sit down a few minutes, ted, i shall be busy," he had said. he had returned to his office and proceeded to do some further telephoning. walker had come in a little later and the two were busy going over the evening's events when strong called out as above. "well, ted, i guess we are going to have war. at least we won the first victory, or rather you did." ted fidgeted at the praise and grinned sheepishly. "i wonder," said walker, "if they have, found the dictaphone as yet." "you can safely figure on the fact that they did. they started a little investigation when they found that the birds had flown. but it does not matter how much they know we know, now. it's a fight in the open from now on. i'm thankful for that. "i have already notified ottawa, new york, and the different capitals of the provinces. washington also knows, our embassy has already notified them as to the location of the arsenals. they are going to issue orders from ottawa to confiscate those in our own country at once. "ottawa wanted all the facts and it got them. i expect to hear further from them in the course of the day." "i wonder," said walker, "if our friends will be polite enough to return my dictaphone. they should, it does not belong to them and they probably know to whom, it does belong." "you might go over and claim it," answered strong. "i think i will, just to see old winckel's face." strong turned to ted. "dear lad," he said, "what you did isn't the kind of thing that can appear in the newspapers, but it is the kind about which history is made. it is a big job you have accomplished. the men who sent you down to us made no mistake in their judgment as to what you could do. sir robert wingate wanted to know all about you, i must have talked to him for more than twenty minutes on the telephone. "walker and i go to ottawa on a late train today. they want to see me, to go fever details. "well, let's get busy with the last threads of what happened last night--we have to put it down on black and white for future, reference. when do you want to return to wayland, ted?" "i should like to go by saturday, if it can be arranged," answered ted. "well, i think it can be done. i shall return tomorrow night or early the following morning. you will be free for these two days. have a good time; remember, we pay all your expenses--nothing is too good for you. if you can, come down the day after tomorrow. i may have some news for you." "i shall be glad to come down," answered ted, as he wondered at the news to which strong had reference. they spent a half hour or more going over the events of the evening, strong's secretary taking notes. then ted left and returned home. that afternoon he took his mother to the ball game and saw the cubs defeat the giants. he tried to explain the game to his mother, who pretended an interest and tried hard to understand. but she found her truant fancy going elsewhere--it centered about this boy of hers, her daughter and also about the husband who could not endure the troubleous times, not because of the hardship to himself so much as the hardship to her and the child. ted's interest was not divided, however, except in rare moments when he would turn to his mother and accuse her of lack of interest. she would flush guiltily and pretend that she was interested. she would ask a question or two, but her very questions convicted her, showed her inability to understand, and ted gave it up as a hopeless job and comforted himself in the belief that only men understood the game, it was too deep for women, excepting one or two, who knew something. as they rode home the boy and the mother discussed the improvement in their condition. "we will never have to worry any more, mother, not as long as i am able," the boy said, with all of youth's surety and confidence. mrs. marsh wiped an unbidden tear from her eye. "i am very happy, dear. and yet, i would give so much if your father was one of us. he was a fine man, but things were against him, too much so." ted did not answer, he felt that nothing he could say would help. after a long period of quiet, the boy spoke a little more quietly: "never mind, mother, you have helen and me." "i am happy in my riches," answered the mother proudly. when they reached home, both of them began to get the supper ready so that helen would not have to wait. a brilliant idea came to ted as they prepared. "mother," he said excitedly, "let's not eat at home tonight. we are going to the theater, so let us have supper out." at first the mother demurred, but she gave way--there was great temptation in the unusual treat. when helen came home and was told the plan she was even more excited than they; it was so unusual an adventure. you can readily believe that it was a happy party of three that repaired to one of the many nice restaurants in the loop and afterward to the theater. they did not reach home until late in the night. on the way home they discussed what the news could be that strong would have for ted. the next day ted spent at the settlement, renewing old acquaintances. miss white, who had taken mrs. dean's place, was glad to see him and gave him a hearty welcome. she was greatly interested in his story of his year in the west and wanted to know all about mrs. dean. it was a great day for ted and the pleasantest of his stay in chicago. on his way home that night ted began to wish for wayland. he had not realized how much the place meant to him until now, syd graham and the rest of the boys seemed very dear, very desirable. "i hope," he said to himself, "that nothing will keep me from going on saturday." chapter x ted receives a reward sir robert wingate listened while john strong told the story of the plotting and counterplotting in chicago. many times he made memorandums. he asked questions once or twice, but in the main he just listened. when strong finally completed his account, sir robert said: "we took immediate action at our end and the results are more than satisfying. strong, i do not want you to think for a minute that the importance of what you men have done is underestimated. the excitement of the great war, the necessity of secrecy as to what you have accomplished--all these facts may give you an idea that we do not consider your work as important as it is. we do, however. now, as to this boy, theodore marsh. he must be an unusual youngster with a good head. he will bear watching." "unfortunately for us, he is american. those are the kind of boys canada could use to advantage. not only is he american, but loyally so. "well, he shall have acknowledgment of his deed of service. tell me, is he from a family of wealth?" strong briefly gave sir robert an account of ted's past. the latter nodded his head understandingly. "i think we will also give a more practical acknowledgment of the value of his service. the government, i am sure, will be glad to give a reward of $ , . to him. when you go back to chicago, you will give him a letter from me which will also hold a check for that amount." you would think that both strong and walker were the ones who were receiving the money, they showed how glad they were. strong could not complete his work until late in the afternoon. walker and he boarded a train which brought them into chicago about three o'clock the next afternoon. "this letter and the enclosure will be a great surprise to ted, won't it?" said walker. "i certainly am glad of it; he surely deserves it." "that he does, and i am just as glad. let me manage the business of letting him know about it." when they reached the office, ted had already been there. he had left, saying that he would be back at two o'clock, when told that strong would not arrive until the afternoon. promptly at two ted showed up. strong saw him as he opened the door and greeted him warmly. "hello, ted; it's good to see you. we certainly shall miss you when you go back to wayland. but i guess you will be glad to be back, won't you?" "i certainly will. i am going by way of big gulch and shall stop off at the ranch for a day or so." "that's a splendid idea, isn't it?" commented walker. "well, ted, hear anything more from our friends, the enemy?" asked strong, laughingly. "no, sir, but then i would not be the one to hear. i thought mr. walker would, he was going to claim his property." they all laughed. "by jove, i must do that; i have completely forgotten it," remarked walker. "well, ted, they were very nice at ottawa. i understand the government is going to honor you in some way for your service; they even spoke of doing the same thing for both walker and myself." strong gave ted an outline of what had happened, but made no mention of the letter from sir robert. walker was tempted to remind him, thinking that he had forgotten, but he remembered that strong had said he wished to handle that end himself. "i suppose you will be busy packing and getting ready tomorrow. you leave at four on saturday afternoon? come down and see us before you go. when we need your services again, we'll have you come on." ted got up to go. as he opened the door, strong called to him. "i say, ted, i almost forgot another thing which probably is not very important. i have a letter for you; silly, not to have remembered." and strong smiled, while walker laughed. "for me?" said ted wonderingly, as he took the letter. then, as he opened it, he saw the check. he looked at it a little dazed. he saw his name as if in a haze--then he saw the amount. "one thousand dollars--and for me?" he stammered the words, he was almost stricken dumb. "yes, for you--to do with as you will. you certainly deserve it," said strong. "every bit of it," added walker. ted had a feeling as if he wanted to cry. he did. walker patted him on the shoulder understandingly, while strong looked out of the window and pretended he did not see. "there is a letter which you might be glad to read and which i think will be almost as welcome as the money." strong turned round and faced him as he said this. the boy opened the letter. "august , . "master theodore marsh, "chicago, illinois. "dear theodore: "mr. strong has advised me as to the service you have done canada. it has been a big service, one that canada must remember. i want you to know that it does and will. you have shown a capacity for thinking, for doing the right thing at the right time. i think even better than both these things, though, has been the simple way in which you have carried out instructions when conditions were such as to put up to you the burden of necessary action. what would have been a remarkable accomplishment for a man is a tremendous accomplishment for a boy. "i regret the fact that you are not canadian but am glad you are a loyal american. your country is fortunate in having a boy of your kind. i hope you will have the future that your present action promises. "the enclosed, in a small way, signalizes a reward for your invaluable services. "i hope to have the pleasure of meeting you at some time, and i am, "very sincerely yours, "robert wingate." "that's a fine letter, isn't it?" said ted, when he finished. he spoke in a low voice--he did not trust his feelings. "yes, it's fine. sir robert is a great man. he does things in a big way. but i think you want to go home now, so go." and ted did. chapter xi ted goes back "but, ted, it would be impossible for us to go on saturday. i am not so sure that we can go at all, it will require a lot of thinking." mrs. marsh had heard the wonderful news and ted's sudden plan for them to go out to big gulch or wayland. she was trying to show ted how impossible it was for them to do it and he was only just beginning to acknowledge that perhaps saturday would be too soon. "well, i tell you, mother. maybe saturday is too soon, but you will be ready in two weeks--that is plenty of time. i know that helen will be able to do whatever she wants to do out there--and this money, after we have repaid the deans, will help to tide over the time until we are settled. we shall hear what helen says--and i shall speak to mr. and mrs. dean when i get out there." helen was told the news almost before she passed the doorstep. she was astonished and glad and cried all in the same minute. "how wonderful!" she finally managed to say. then she was told of ted's plan. the boy had thought that she might need convincing, but she agreed almost at once. "i know i can obtain a position in my line of work out there. it is a land of opportunity and we should grasp the chance to get out there." all that remained was for ted to get the opinion of the deans. ted went down to say good-bye to strong and walker the next day. both men were very busy, but the three had lunch together and ted promised to write to both of them. "you may have to write both of us at the front--we shall go off to the war--that is, walker will. it may be my bad luck to have to stay on duty here, although i have asked to be relieved." "well, ted," said walker, "i shall see you at the train." "and i will try to do so," added strong. the boy told both his friends of the plan to bring his mother and sister out west. they agreed that it was a good plan. his mother and sister, and walker and strong saw him depart. it was just a year before that ted had left, what a big year it had been. ted's thoughts turned to the ranch. he was eager to see red mack, smiles, graham, pop, and the deans. he hoped it would be red who would meet him--and that he would bring his horse down so that they could go back to the ranch on horseback. of course, in all likelihood, it would be the packard that would come down for him, for the distance was long and it would mean a lot of extra trouble for red or anyone to lead his horse down all the way. the trip to big gulch seemed long because of the boy's eagerness to see his friends. he awakened very early on the second morning when the train was due. when the train finally reached the station, he eagerly looked out to see who was there. but he could see no one until he stepped from the train. there stood red and next to him pop. there were three horses and one of them was his. glad greetings were exchanged. "my, i'm glad you came for me on horseback. i hoped you would, but it seemed too much to expect." "well, we figured you would like it. glad you do." they started off. as best he could, ted told his story and both of the men listened with different interest. when ted came to that part where it had practically been settled that his mother and helen were to come out, a queer look came into pop's eyes which neither of them saw. the older man rode behind most of the way after that. "you should see wolf, you would not know him," said red. "i guess he would not know me, either," answered ted. "he may be your dog, but i'm kind of attached to him myself," remarked red. some time in the afternoon they reached the ranch. smiles was there and so were the other men and they gave ted a great welcome. so did wolf, who had grown wonderfully, and who, while he did not look like any particular kind of dog, showed himself to have an individuality, all his own. he sprang at ted and barked his delight. it made ted feel good to have the dog remember him. it was queer to see how the dog tried to pay attention to both red and ted, and it made the men laugh at his double devotion. ted hurried to the house where mrs. dean was waiting for him. she showed how glad she was to see him. "mr. dean will be back a little later. he has been very busy." ted thought he would wait with his news until later and merely mentioned some of the things that had happened. "ted, dear," said mrs. dean, "i want to tell you that we are going to have a little stranger in this house, soon." then ted knew why he had hesitated about blurting out his news--there was an even bigger event to happen. "i'm so glad," said he. he stayed a little while only, as mrs. dean did not seem strong. he saw dean when he came home. to both of his friends he told his news, what had been done, he showed sir robert's letter and then spoke of his plan for his mother and sister. "how wonderful," said mrs. dean, while john dean looked tenderly at her. "i'm proud of you, ted. i counted on you, but you did much more. i heard from strong, but i did not know what had been accomplished. as to your mother and sister--they must come out here--the wonderful thing is that mrs. dean will need your mother's help very soon and it all seems to fit one thing into another. helen will get a rest here; she need not worry as to finding the right kind of opportunity. when do you expect to write home?" "at once," answered ted. "the sooner they come the better, although i suppose it will be every bit of two weeks." ted started to leave his friends to rejoin red and the rest. dean caught up with him about one hundred yards from the house. "you know, ted," he started without any preamble, "i feel as if my country is calling me. i cannot think of going until the child is born and mrs. dean is well. but i shall have to, hard as it may be. that is one reason why i shall be glad to have your sister and your mother here. they will be company for mrs. dean. she agrees with me that i should go. she is the bravest, best woman in the world." he stopped for a minute. "i shall see you later, as soon as mrs. dean takes her rest. i want to know all about chicago and what happened." he returned to the house while ted joined the men. they were in the midst of a discussion of the war. ted listened. smiles and several of the other men were leaving in three days--off for the war. red was not going--he was american. "i may go later, if they need me," he said. there was to be a great shortage of men at the ranch. dean had made pop the new foreman to take smiles' place. pop was not in the conversation, he was sitting by himself and he showed every desire to be left alone. after a little while, he left the room. it made the war very near and ted felt very lonely to hear that these friends of his were going off, some of them never to return. chapter xii the marshes reunited pop entered the house. he wanted advice and he wanted it bad. he knew that ordinarily he would have gone to mrs. dean--a woman would help so much at a time like this. but dean met him in the hall. "hello, pop--what's the trouble?" asked dean. "hello, jack. i can't say whether it's trouble or not. what i want is advice. maybe you can give it to me, although i figured mrs. dean would be better." "tell me, i may be able to help." dean was surprised at the agitation of the older man. pop told his story. he did not keep any of the details from dean. the latter listened, his astonishment growing all the time. "you see, jack, it's this way. if they come here, my wife will see me. she probably hates me. i cannot hope that she will understand. on the other hand, i want so much to be with her, i am going to be foreman and that means i can support her comfortably. but i probably would make her miserable if i entered into her life again. what do you say?" "let us ask mrs. dean. she will give you the right answer." mrs. dean listened. there was no hesitation in her answer. "go to chicago at once. you need not worry about how your wife will take it, nor as to how she feels. i know. she understands better than you can ever suppose. jack, dear, whoever said that god did not weave our lives? how closely our friends here have been interwoven with our lives, how much we have been of service to each other. "go to chicago on the first train," she finished. "yes, and we shall tell ted. bring them back with you," added dean. pop left the house, much relieved. he was happy that his duty was what his inclination was--what he craved to do. he joined the other men. without giving any explanation he told smiles he would have to be away for about ten days and that he had already arranged for the same with john dean. early the next morning he was off. he asked red to take him down. to red he explained the whole thing, that he was coming back with his folks. "i understand a whole lot of things now. how queerly you acted at times. i guess i'll call you marsh, now." "yes, and it's up to you to explain. i shall wire you before you do so. if my wife should decide that she does not want me, i am not coming back. if she decides she will forgive me, i will telegraph you and you can let it out casually." "i will be glad to do so," answered red. "is jack going to tell ted?" "yes, that's the plan." "the boy will be glad. he likes you a lot. but, mostly glad, because it will make his mother happy." "i hope so much that it will," the older man answered. we are not going into details as to the meeting between the marshes. we, who are acquainted with so much of their story, can imagine what happened. bill marsh left home because he felt he could not hold his head up nor his wife's respect. he had been very foolish, and it was this foolishness, this false pride, even a lack of faith in the understanding of his wife that had made him stay away. who should have known him better than his own wife? it was harder to make helen understand. she asked some searching questions, but in the end she realized the fine manliness of her father. the two, mother and daughter, marveled at the coincidence of the father being at the same place as ted. "the world is a small place, isn't it?" said mrs. marsh. it did not take very long for them to be ready to leave. marsh helped where he could and a week after he arrived they left for big gulch. red had paved the way, in accordance with their plan. ted was too surprised to make any comment when he heard the news. at first he was furiously angry at his father. boylike, he could not forgive certain things which an older person could. it was mrs. dean, even more than red and john dean, who made him see and understand. then the marshes came to big gulch. matters adjusted themselves. it was a busy time for all. smiles was off, smiling and glad. so were the other men who were to go. brave men, all of them, doing their duty as they saw it. pop took up his duties as foreman. then the child was born to the deans. a girl, which seemed like a squalling, ugly baby, much like any other baby, to ted. but to say so to the mother or to the father or to mrs. marsh or to helen, would have been a great, an awful insult. the men came in to see the heir apparent. they seemed clumsy, uncouth, sheepish creatures and all of them were glad to get away, including pop and ted. with the excitement subsiding, things began again to take a normal aspect. mrs. dean began to sit up, the child began to look more like a human being, it had been decided that helen was to rest for a few months and then continue her studies at the nearest preparatory school, with the purpose of entering college. john dean was to leave for the front in two weeks. our story is almost complete. ted received a great welcome at the academy. the boys had heard of what he had done, of his reward and the letter he had received from sir robert wingate. for one whole day his coming made the great war an even smaller event. captain wilson had gone to ottawa, he had been promoted to be a major. some of the instructors were gone and even one or two of the older students. those who were left spoke only of the time when they, too, could go and they were bemoaning their misfortune in being young. ted heard from the folks at home. he heard from helen and somehow he got the impression that all she spoke about was red and what a fine man he was. a letter from red made no mention of helen, but he did say that he was getting down to the serious business of thinking of the future. even as young as ted was, he could guess that they had become great friends and he was glad. his father wrote him that he had placed his $ , . in the bank for him, he having settled all the debts and accounts himself. it was a fine letter and it removed what resentment still remained with ted against his father. his mother also wrote, saying she was wonderfully happy and he got a short note from john dean before he left. he also heard from walker, who told him he was off for the war, but that strong had to stay. syd graham and ted were inseparable. they did many things together and the plans for the future each of the boys made included the other. there was, of course, a great deal more of military training and many times the boys at the academy were called upon for some duty or other. so the days went. ted received a fall vacation and he went home. there was news from the front. dean had been wounded, so the report came, not seriously, but enough to disable him, and he was returning home. he would always limp. in that awful charge when so many canadians had been wounded and killed, smiles had lost his life. it made ted very sad to think that he would never see the happy, smiling ex-foreman again. helen was at school. ted pumped red mack as to helen and found his suspicions confirmed. he teased red unmercifully and it was one time when red was flustered. the dean baby was a healthy, lusty youngster of a few months. ted marsh has his life before him. this story is but one incident of his early life. but for later events we must look elsewhere. * * * * * the friendly animal series a series of books of friendly, likeable fun-loving animals, written by well known authors of children's books. each book pages, with lithograph cover in five colors and a number of full page illustrations. size - / x - / -- pages--each c. written by elizabeth billings stuart illustrations by elsie m. kroll the fairy and the bunny-tail bunny-tail is a dear little bunny, who is always finding something that turns every-boy's trouble into happiness. the fairy joy gives him a magic password, which makes him quite safe in the company of any of the forest animals or in the presence of hunters. tricky mr. fox tricky mr. fox is a sly animal, whose adventures lead him into many pitfalls and mishaps. he becomes the captive of a little indian boy and later his adoring companion. tricky mr. fox proves his devotion and quick wits by saving the little boy's life when a fire threatens. teddy bear, the toy maker brownie bunny is a harum-scarum bunny, full of mischief and merry pranks. he lives with teddy bear and makes teddy bear's life delightfully miserable until bunny-tail persuades him to become a boy scout. after this transformation he performs many thrilling and heroic deeds. lucky, the boy scout by elmer sherwood a fascinating story. its action covers chicago and the far west of canada. there comes the rumbling of the big war. german plots are many. ted's share in following these plots, his life at the double x ranch and at wayland academy, make this a book that will hold the absorbed attention of the reader. those who are readers of the lucky series know that none of the books are namby-pamby--there is in all of them the true strain of things worthwhile. honor, faith and courage hold their rightful place. whitman publishing company racine _good books for boys and girls_ the campfire girls and aunt madge the campfire girls' week-end party delightful stories that are sure to be well liked. the titles would indicate that they are purely girls' stories but boys will find them equally interesting. be sure to read them. lucky, the young navyman by elmer sherwood this book follows the story of lucky, the young soldier. it deals with ted marsh and his service to the american navy. a book complete in itself in which mr. sherwood has brought to play many of the incidents of today. great things are happening every day. ted's great fortune is to have a big share in them. a story as good as lucky, the boy scout and lucky, the young soldier. whitman publishing company racine the friendly animal series lammie and mrs. fussy-cat "if you read this book written about me," said lammie, "you will wish there were a hundred books to the series the same as mine. dear me! that was a day! read the book. you'll just laugh at the pictures. especially the one where i am riding the little wooden-legged squirrel on my back." lammie wants to learn "can you do tricks on a pumpkin, the way i can?" asked lammie. "if you don't believe i can do them, just look at the picture that warner carr drew of me the day he caught me out in the garden. my, but i was having a good time until i happened to take a big mouthful of horseradish." lammie on a frolic "doing tricks on a pumpkin is nothing compared to doing a buck-jump," said lammie. "just watch me," and he wheeled around on one toe and then jumped straight up in the air, kicking out all four feet at once. "do you see that field over there? well, that's where i go every day to eat white clover and i have the best of times, too." coming!! ted marsh & the enemy ted marsh--the young volunteer two great books of present day events. ted's coolness and daring stand him in good stead and he proves of great value in the service of the government. the lowest priced and best series of boys' books the bunny-tail series by elizabeth billings stuart with full page illustrations in color and in black and white winkie bunny-tail brownie bunny and teddy bear mr. rusty fox twinkle squirrel and muffle face fifteen little bunny-tails "oh, mother," said little goldi-locks one day as they were hurrying through a big department store, "do please stop a minute and look at these books." "which ones, my dear?" asked her mother. "the bunny-tail series, of course. all the children are reading them. even teacher told us a story out of one of them the other day. couldn't you buy them for my birthday present?" coaxed the sweet little girl. "just see this picture where the bunnies are all dressed up and are having a dancing party!" just then a dainty clerk stepped up and smiled as she saw the interested little girl. "it's really wonderful," said she, addressing the mother, "how the children love mrs. stuart's bunny-tail books. we sell so many of them, all the year 'round. i have read them all to my little nephew and he just dotes on them." five titles, cloth, size - / x - / . colored jackets, pages. arabian nights stories _retold by elizabeth billings stuart_ with color and black and white illustrations by elsie m. kroll "tomorrow is jack's birthday and i don't know what to buy him," said jill. "does he like books?" asked phil. "he reads all the time," answered jill. "then why don't you buy him a nice book for his birthday?" asked phil. "i'd love to, but i have only thirty-five cents to spend, and i couldn't get a nice enough book for that. he likes lots of pictures--colored ones, too." "i know the very book you want," said phil, all excitement. "it's called 'arabian nights stories,' by mrs. stuart. you know her, don't you? she's the one who wrote 'winkie bunny-tail' and all the rest of the bunny-tail series." "goody, goody!" said jill. "just to think what a lovely birthday present it will make, and for only thirty-five cents!" the famous animal stories (for children from three to ten years of age) _"never have animal stories made more fascinating reading"_ hazel squirrel tommy turtle happy bunny baby pony bobby bear famous rover this series is an innovation in the field of children's books. six wonderful animal stories written by howard m. famous, each beautifully illustrated with a full-page colored frontispiece and a number of full-page black and white illustrations. never have animal stories made more fascinating reading. the books are the kind that will sell all the year round--the children will demand them. mr. famous is at his very best in all these stories--and we predict that the doings of his animal folks will become known throughout the world. six titles, cloth, size - / x , colored jacket, pages.